Mindreader

The inside of the building was even less inviting than its exterior. The walls were lined with decayed portraits, their inhabitants whispering as Seraphina passed, hurling insults that polluted the silence. With each of her steps, the quiet transformed into a low murmur of chaos. Dumbledore walked ahead, impervious to the curses spewing from the painted mouths. Seraphina’s eyes wandered to the golden plaques beneath each frame, reading the names engraved there.

She paused in front of a particularly severe portrait of a woman seated upright, her posture rigid and imposing. Her eyes fell to the plaque, and she read the name aloud, her curiosity piqued:
“Walburga Black…”

Their gazes met, hanging in a moment of tense stillness.
“A Grindelwald,” Walburga sneered. “At last, this house sees a resurgence of pride in the purity of its blood. Your ancestor must be—”
“I am nothing like Gellert,” Seraphina cut in firmly. “He and I have nothing in common.”

Walburga’s face twisted in horror, as though she’d just been told of her death for a second time. Then she began to shriek, her piercing voice wringing a grimace from Seraphina.
“TRAITOR! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! LEAVE BEFORE I ORDER YOUR NAME BURNED FROM THE TAPESTRY, JUST AS I DID THAT UNGRATEFUL SIRIUS!”

Seraphina startled and stepped back, bumping into a solid figure who caught her before she stumbled further. Rough hands rested on her shoulders, steadying her.
“Shut it, you old hag,” said a dry, mocking voice behind her. “You’re scaring the guests.”

Dumbledore turned back to glance at the commotion, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, barely audible over Walburga’s furious tirade.
“Ah… Sirius, what a pleasure to see you again,” said Dumbledore.
“Apologies for my mother,” Sirius replied, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “She was never known for her hospitality.”

Seraphina turned to face the man who still held her shoulders, his firm grip wrapped in the heavy folds of her Siberian cloak. Slowly, she raised her gaze, meeting a pair of steel-grey eyes brimming with ironic amusement, yet carrying a peculiar warmth. Sirius Black offered her a lopsided smile, a mix of mischief and apology. His features, though weathered by years and hardship, retained a certain elegance.

His dark hair fell in unruly strands around his face, framing the faint shadow of a beard that hinted at a man caught between carelessness and natural charm. He wore a long, dark coat, its frayed edges suggesting a life of adventure, and his entire demeanour exuded a peculiar blend of nonchalance and nobility—an echo of the Black family, but devoid of their signature frost.

Still holding her shoulders, he let out an exaggerated sigh, as though well-practised in dealing with such absurd situations.
“Welcome to the House of Black,” he quipped, his tone mocking. “A real treat, isn’t it?”

He cast a disdainful glance at the portrait of his mother, who continued to scream obscenities, her fury reaching a fever pitch. His grey eyes softened slightly as they returned to Seraphina, studying her with polite curiosity.
“I must say,” he went on, leaning in just enough to add to the intimacy of his jest, “it’s not every day this house welcomes… a Grindelwald.”

He pronounced the name with a blend of surprise and amusement, though his lips curled into a faintly provocative smile, as if testing her reaction.

Seraphina shivered, though not from Walburga’s hostility—it was the man before her who sent a strange thrill down her spine. A rebellious Black, so different yet tied to her by the same poisoned lineage. She inhaled deeply, preparing to respond, but Walburga’s shrill voice erupted once more.
“YOU TRAITOROUS SON! DEFENDING THIS GRINDELWALD HARLOT? YOU ARE NO LONGER A BLACK! YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A DISGRACE, A TOTAL DISGRACE!”

Sirius rolled his eyes in exasperation, finally letting go of Seraphina’s shoulders and crossing his arms over his chest.
“See what I have to deal with?” he said, looking skyward as though appealing to some higher power. “Even in death, she’s insufferable.”

Seraphina let out a small laugh. Sirius seemed amusing—flippant yet astute. The balance of humour and gravity. He motioned for her to follow him further down the corridor. Now sandwiched between Dumbledore and Sirius, she allowed her curiosity to wash over her. The light filtering through the cracks of a door ahead signalled that others were waiting beyond it.

Sirius and Dumbledore continued speaking in hushed but heated tones, paying her little attention, as though she were already part of this slightly less dismal world.
“Do you really think it’s wise to introduce her today? I mean, that nosy git Snape is here, and he can’t keep his greasy nose out of other people’s business,” Sirius muttered, scowling.

Seraphina half-listened to their conversation.
“I know how much his presence irks you,” Dumbledore replied serenely, “but he is an integral member of the Order. And besides…”
“…it’s important that he knows,” Dumbledore concluded in a calm yet firm tone.

Sirius groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair.
“Right, because nothing says trustworthiness like Severus Snape,” he grumbled.

Dumbledore’s enigmatic smile was his only response before he turned to Seraphina, who watched them with growing curiosity. She didn’t yet understand the layers of their exchanges, but it was clear they were speaking of her.
“Don’t worry, Seraphina,” Dumbledore said, noticing her inquisitive expression. “The Order is… let’s call it a diverse group, but everyone here is united by the same goal.”

Sirius chuckled dryly, crossing his arms.
“Diverse is a polite way of saying we even accept snakes.”
“Snakes have their role to play, Sirius,” Dumbledore replied with infinite patience.

The corridor widened, revealing a set of double doors, slightly ajar, allowing golden light to spill into the gloom. Seraphina hesitated instinctively, glancing nervously at Sirius, who raised a teasing eyebrow.
“Don’t worry,” he said, pausing with her. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Unless, of course, Snape’s in one of his moods, which, to be fair, he always is.”

“You’re not helping, Sirius,” Dumbledore murmured with a smile, placing a reassuring hand on Seraphina’s shoulder.

She took a deep breath and nodded. Dumbledore pushed the doors open slowly, almost theatrically, revealing a warm room lit by a roaring fire. Several faces turned to greet them, their expressions a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Seraphina immediately felt their gazes scrutinising her—some intrigued, others mistrustful. A thin man with long, black hair and a hooked nose sat apart from the others, studying her intently as though trying to decipher her very thoughts. She guessed this was Severus Snape.

Sirius stepped past her, throwing a disdainful look at Snape before addressing the room:
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present… the descendant of Gellert Grindelwald.”

A frigid silence fell over the room, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Dumbledore stepped forward, his calm demeanour a sharp contrast to the growing tension.
“She is not here because of her ancestor,” he declared firmly, “but because of what she can bring to our cause.”

Seraphina’s heart pounded. She had anticipated this moment, but she hadn’t expected the weight of her name to feel so tangible, so oppressive. The man with the hooked nose spoke, his voice slow and deliberate:
“Let’s hope she doesn’t share all of his ideas,” he murmured, a sarcastic smile tugging at his lips.

Sirius stepped towards him, his grey eyes flashing with irritation.
“You’re hardly in a position to judge, Snivellus.”

Dumbledore raised a calming hand.
“That’s enough, gentlemen. We are here to work together, not rekindle old grudges.”

He turned to Seraphina and offered her a reassuring smile.
“Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Seraphina.”