( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊 ) — sirius orion black

Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can, and your Charms Professor.

The expression on Harry, Ron, and Hermione's faces was priceless as they handed over the letter to Evangeline. They weren't aware Evangeline knew the truth, much more concerned by the fact that Sirius was asking to bring her along.

''You know Sirius?'' Harry asked, peering at his favourite teacher curiously.

The pure-blood shook her head in an effort to keep her face neutral. ''I know of him,'' she replied, choosing her words carefully. ''Believe me, I am just as surprised by this request as the three of you are.''

''Did you go to school with him or something?''

Hermione turned to look at Ron, her expression resembling something of disgust. ''Are you listening to yourself, Ron? She was only in seventh year last year.''

It was an odd realisation that hardly registered itself in Evangeline's brain; she was only four years older than the three teenagers in front of her. Only four years seemed like a lifetime from her perspective, after everything she had been through to get to where she was now.

''Then maybe you two are in like, a secret society together, or something. You're both disgraced pure-bloods from families in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, after all.''

''Ron!''

''I have already told you I do not know him, I only know of him,'' the brunette repeated. ''Perhaps we crossed paths at a ball when I was only a baby, but it is highly unlikely.''

''Well then, in that case we'll have to see, won't we?''

They left the castle at noon the next day to find a weak silver sun shining down upon the grounds. The weather was milder than it had been all year, and by the time they arrived in Hosgmeade, all four of them had taken off their cloaks and thrown them over their shoulders. The food Sirius had told them to bring was in Harry's bag; the three fourth-years had sneaked a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice from the lunch table.

They went into Gladrags Wizardwear to buy a present for Dobby, where they had fun selecting the most lurid socks they could find, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly. Only a year ago, Evangeline would've bought anything her heart desired, and although she had secured her inheritance money she hardly had the luxury of spending it on the entire store.

At half past one, the quartet made their way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out towards the edge of the village.

Evangeline had never been in this direction before. The winding lane was leading them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then they turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth . . .

''Hello, Sirius,'' Harry greeted the animal.

The black dog — who had turned out to be a wrongfully-convicted mass murderer — sniffed Harry's bag eagerly, wagged its tail once, cocked it's head at Evangeline, then turned and began to trot away from them across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. The four of them climbed over the stile and followed.

Sirius had led them to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him, with his four paws, but the humans following him were soon out of breath. They followed him higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour they climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius' wagging tail, sweating in the sun.

Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when they reached the place where he had vanished, they saw a narrow fissure in the rock. They squeezed into it and found themselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a large rock, was Buckbeak the Hippogriff. Half grey horse, half giant eagle, Buckbeak's fierce orange eyes flashed at the sight of them. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all bowed low to him, before Evangeline quickly followed their lead, having forgotten the Care of Magical Creatures lesson from third year. After regarding them imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck.

Harry, however, was looking at the black dog which had just turned into his godfather. Evangeline was startled when she noticed the man stood behind her; he didn't look as bad as he had in the ❛HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WIZARD?❜ posters.

Sirius was wearing his ragged grey robes, the same ones he had been wearing when he left Azkaban (the same ones Pollux's father still wore on a day-to-day basis). His black hair was even longer, untidy and matted. He also looked very thin.

''Chicken!'' He said hoarsely, after removing the old Daily Prophet from his mouth and throwing it down onto the cave floor.

Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread.

''Thanks,'' Sirius muttered, opening it, grabbing a drumstick and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. ''I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself.''

He grinned up at Harry, but the Potter boy only returned the gesture reluctantly.

''What're you doing here, Sirius?''

''Fulfilling my duty as godfather,'' he replied, gnawing on the chicken bone like a dog. ''Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray,'' he grinned, but changed tack as he noticed the anxiety on Harry's face. ''I wanted to be on the spot. Your last letter . . . well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried.''

He nodded at the yellowing pile of Daily Prophets on the cave floor, and Ron picked them up and began unfolding the pages. The pure-blood brunette shuffled to stand beside him, her eyes frantically scanning over the black ink titles.

''You three, Dumbledore, and now Evangeline are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus.''

There were two issues that caught her attention, and Ron's as he nudged Harry and passed him the paper. The first bore the headline ❛Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch❜, the second being ❛Ministry Witch Still Missing — Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved❜.

''They're making it sound like he's dying,'' Harry said slowly. ''But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here . . . ''

''My brother's Crouch's personal assistant,'' Ron told Sirius. ''He says Crouch is suffering from overwork.''

''I would not be so sure,'' Evangeline remembered. ''Although he is from a Sacred Twenty-Eight family, he was very against the Dark Lord and his work. My father always talked badly about Bartemius Crouch, including being a workaholic. Why would it only catch up to him now?''

''Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close,'' Harry recalled, still reading the story. ''The night my name came out of the goblet . . . ''

''Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?'' Hermione spoke up, an edge to her voice. ''I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now — bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him.''

''Maybe so. But a family like that, I would be pleasantly surprised if they did not have an army of house-elves to make up for the loss.''

Ron rolled his eyes at the Granger girl, but Sirius looked interested.

''Crouch sacked his house-elf?'' He asked Evangeline.

She shrugged. ''I am not sure. I got knocked out not even half-way through the attack.''

''Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup,'' Harry began, launching into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, Winky being found with Harry's wand in her hands, and Mr Crouch's fury. By the time he had finished, Sirius was pacing back and forth in the cave.

''Let me get this straight,'' he said after a while, brandishing a fresh chicken leg. ''You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?''

''Right.''

''But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?''

''No. I think he said he'd been to busy.''

Sirius stalked around in silence. ''Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?''

''Erm . . . no,'' he said finally. ''I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars,'' he stared at Sirius. ''Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?''

''It's possible.''

''Winky didn't steal that wand!''

''The elf wasn't the only one in that box,'' Sirius said, his brow furrowed. ''Who else was sitting behind you?''

''A lot of people, including me. There were some Bulgarian ministers, too . . . Cornelius Fudge . . . the Malfoy family — Merlin, that one was a tense reunion—''

''The Malfoys!'' Ron said suddnely, so loudly his voice echoed and Buckbeak tossed his head nervously. ''I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!''

''Anyone else?''

''No one.''

''Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman,'' Hermione reminded.

''Oh, yeah . . . ''

''I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps. What's he like?''

''He's okay,'' Harry voiced. ''He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament.''

''Does he now?'' Sirius asked, frowning deeply. Evangeline could've sworn she heard a tinge of jealousy in his tone. ''I wonder why'd he do that.''

''Says he's taken a liking to me.''

''It is quite odd now that you mention it,'' the Rosier girl hummed. ''The rules specifically said that there is to be no interference from teachers and other staff in terms of the tournament.''

''We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared,'' Hermione told Sirius, before glancing at Ron and Harry. ''Remember?''

''Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?'' Ron pointed out. ''The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite.''

''How d'you know?'' Hermione shot back. ''How d'you know where he Disapparated to?''

''Come of it. Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?''

''It's more likely he did it than Winky.''

''But then again,'' Evangeline interfered. ''Bagman was one of the main organizers of the Quidditch World Cup. Why in Merlin's name would he conjure the Mark at a Ministry event, much less his own?''

''When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?''

''Went to look in the bushes, but there wasn't anyone else there.''

''Of course,'' Sirius murmured. ''Of course, he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf . . . and then he asked her.''

''Yes,'' Hermione said heatedly. ''He sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled—''

''Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf—''

Sirius shook his head. ''She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.''

''I, for one, agree.''

The Black man ran a hand over his unshaven face, thinking hard. ''All these absences of Barty Crouch's . . .  he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too . . . it's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak.''

''D'you know Crouch, then?'' Harry asked.

Sirius' face darkened. Suddenly, he looked as menacing as a murderer. ''Oh, I know Crouch all right,'' he said quietly. ''He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban — without a trial.''

''What?''

''You're kidding!''

''Unbelievable.''

''No, I'm not. Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?''

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all shook their heads whilst Evangeline racked her brains. She remembered bits and pieces from when she was younger, but not in such great detail.

''He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical — and power-hungry. Oh, never a Voldemort supporter,'' he added at the look on Harry's face. ''No, Barty Crouch was always very-out spoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side . . . well, you three wouldn't understand . . . you're too young . . . ''

''That's what my dad said at the World Cup,'' Ron huffed. ''Try us, why don't you?''

''All right, I'll try you . . . '' Sirius began, a grin flashing across his thin face. ''Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing . . . the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying to. Terror everywhere . . . panic . . . confusion . . . that's how it used to be.''

Evangeline bowed her head. During this time, she could only imagine how different things were on her side. Except it wasn't her side, not anymore. It was the wrong side.

''Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning — I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers — powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the Dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorised the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you — plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamouring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened . . . ''

Sirius smiled grimly, looking over at Evangeline to see if she remembered. She did, having heard the story many times from her parents, yet only once from Pollux.

''Crouch's son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. One of my old friend's father included. Apparently they were trying to find the Dark Lord and return him to power.''

''Crouch's son was caught?'' Hermione gasped.

''Yep,'' Sirius affirmed, tearing the loaf of bread in half. ''Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he. Ought to have left the office early once in a while . . . gotten to know his own son.''

''Was his son a Death Eater?'' Harry asked.

''No idea,'' Sirius said, stuffing down bread. ''I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in, but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf.''

Evangeline shook her head. ''If my memory serves me right, he was. I saw him once in the foyer of my family home, at least. I was only six years old when the war ended, and even younger when I saw him, but I did. Meetings were frequently held at Rosier Manor,'' she sucked in a deep breath. ''My parents were loyal followers, and I was raised by my house-elf, Pinky, until the Dark Lord was thwarted. Only then did they seem to remember they had a daughter, and began to dote on me.''

''Did Crouch try and get his son off?'' Hermione whispered.

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. ''Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again — doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy . . .  then he sent him straight to Azkaban.''

''He gave his own son to the Dementors?'' Harry asked quietly.

''Sounds about right,'' Evangeline shrugged. Recounts of her childhood were increasingly uncomfortable to listen to, but for a long time, it was the normal she knew. ''My parents always spoke of the Dark Lord coming back. All he had to do was ask, and they would have offered me up on a silver platter.''

Sirius didn't look even remotely amused now. ''I saw the Dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though . . . they all go quiet in the end . . . except when they shriek in their sleep . . . ''

For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them.

''So he's still in Azkaban?''

''No,'' Sirius replied dully. ''No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in.''

''He died?''

''He wasn't the only one. Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the Dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, practically carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The Dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it.''

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask of pumpkin juice and drained it.

''So, old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made. One moment, a hero, poised to become the Minister of Magic . . . next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonoured, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic towards the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father had never cared much for him. So, Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.''

There was a long silence, in which Evangeline re-evaluated the past eighteen years of her life.

''Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark Wizards,'' Harry told Sirius.

''Yeah, I've heard its become a bit of a mania with him,'' he nodded. ''If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater.''

''And he sneaked up to search Snape's office!'' Ron exclaimed.

''He did what?''

''That doesn't make sense at all.''

''Yeah, it does!''

''I am not one to defend Snape, not after one too many comments at the teacher's table,'' Evangeline rolled her eyes, ''but realistically speaking, if Crouch wanted to investigate Snape, then why has he not been attending the Tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him.''

''So, you think Snape could be up to something, then?''

''Look,'' Hermione started, ''I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape—''

''Give it a rest, Hermione,'' Ron said impatiently. ''I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him.''

''Why did Snape save Harry's life in first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?''

''I dunno — maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out—''

''What d'you think, Professor Rosier, Sirius?'' Harry said loudly, putting the bickering to an end.

''I am not saying Snape is or is not single-handedly behind all of this, but it does not do well to trust blindly, either. Especially someone as strong-minded as Dumbledore.''

''I think they've both got a point. Ever since I found out Snape was teaching, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was. Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters.''

Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names.

''Rosier,'' he glanced at Evangeline. ''Wilkes, too — they were both killed by Aurors they year before Voldemort fell.''

''Evan Rosier, right?'' She asked, to which Sirius nodded. ''When he was not at Hogwarts, he was the ancestral Rosier home in France. I had only ever seen him at pure-blood events and Christmases.''

''The Lestranges — they're a married couple — they're in Azkaban. Avery — from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse — he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater — not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble.''

''Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet,'' Ron added.

''Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face yesterday when Karkaroff turned up in Potions!'' Harry exclaimed. ''Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was.''

''He showed Snape something on his arm?'' Sirius repeated, sharing an alarmed glance with Evangeline, before shrugging at the children before him. ''Well, I've no idea what that's about . . . but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers . . . ''

Sirius stared at the wall, then made a grim face of frustration.

''There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort.''

''You do not have to trust Snape just because Dumbledore does,'' Evangeline reminded him. ''Snape's past is shifty, sure, but until he poses a serious threat to Harry or anybody else I think we should keep this to ourselves.''

''Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?'' Ron demanded stubbornly.

''Like Sirius said, Crouch could just be looking for an excuse to sentence a supposed Death-Eater. As for Mad-Eye, we all know what he is like — he takes his Defence Against the Dark Arts seriously, and it seems he does not trust anybody at all. I would not have put it past him to search every teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts, especially mine.''

Sirius finally looked up at Ron. ''You say your brother is Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?''

''I can try,'' Ron said doubtfully. ''Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy's practically in love with him.''

Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes. ''What time is it?''

''Half past three,'' Evangeline replied, suspending her pocket watch in front of the man, which was engraved with the elaborate House of Rosier crest.

''You'd three better get back to school,'' Sirius got to his feet. ''I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.''

''No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows.'' Harry joked, but Sirius scowled at him.

''I don't care . . . I'll breathe freely again when this Tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay? Now, I'll walk you to the end of the village, but first I need to have a private word with Evangeline.''

Harry, Ron, and Hermione glance at each other curiously, but obeyed nevertheless.

''Snuffles,'' Evangeline laughed. ''It was you who sent me the letter at the start of last year?''

Sirius nodded, smirking. ''A little birdie told me you always spoke highly of Remus during your seventh year. Next thing I knew, and you were disowned. So, I thought he could do with a mini-me to help him out.''

''A mini-you?'' She repeated, raising a perfectly plucked brow. ''In some ways, I suppose so.''

''I've also been keeping in touch with him,'' Sirius lowered his voice in case the intrigued fourth-years outside were listening. ''He talks about you a lot, Evangeline. Thank you for taking care of him.''

''Oh, it is no problem, really. Remus helped me make a lot of decisions, so I am happy to help him in whatever way I can. Besides, we are also friends.''

''Friends,'' the Black man repeated, as if he knew something she didn't. ''Interesting. I don't want to ask too much of you, but I'd also appreciated it if you kept an eye on Harry.''

''You do not have to even ask. I have been looking out for him ever since Dumbledore appointed me as Charms Professor. Although, there is something I think you should know.''

''What is it?''

''During the second task, Dumbledore started asking me all these questions. Long story short, he wanted to find out on which side I would stand, should something like the First Wizarding War repeat itself. I was only a child back then, but I can safely assume that this conversation was not a good sign.''