Chapter 15- The Deleacours
The night was thick with shadows, the moon casting long, flickering lights across the narrow, cobbled streets. Sirius Black's heart pounded in his chest as he finally cornered the man he had been hunting for over a year. Peter Pettigrew, small, trembling, and cornered like the rat he was, looked up at Sirius with wide, fearful eyes.
Sirius's face was a mask of fury. His wand was drawn, hand steady, though his eyes burned with rage. Pettigrew, always so weak, so cowardly, began to blubber. But this wasn't the time for sentiment. Sirius had a single goal: to exact justice.
"Why, Peter?" Sirius's voice was a growl, thick with barely contained anger. "Why did you do it? How could you betray them?"
Pettigrew stumbled backward, his pudgy hands shaking. His rat-like eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but there was none. He was cornered.
"I—I didn't mean to, Sirius," Peter stammered, his voice high-pitched, wheedling, almost pathetic. "I didn't... It wasn't my choice. You have to understand, there were things—things I didn't know."
"Things you didn't know?" Sirius spat, advancing on him. "You sold out James and Lily! It was only luck that they had gone to the Burrow, or else they would be dead. But you knew that Hadrian and Jules were there. Why, Peter Why? I trusted you, and you almost killed them. For what, Peter? To save your own skin? Or was it for power?"
"No!" Peter squeaked, eyes wide and panicked. His hands twisted nervously in front of him, trembling. "It wasn't me, not really. You don't know what they did to me, Sirius. The Selwyns—they forced me. They... they used rituals, dark rituals. Ancient magic. You don't understand what they're capable of."
Sirius paused, his brow furrowing. His wand lowered, but only slightly. "What do you mean? Dark magic?"
Peter nodded frantically, seizing on Sirius's hesitation. His voice dropped to a whisper, desperate to gain sympathy. "The Selwyns, Sirius. They're ancient, old blood, steeped in the Dark Arts. They know things—things about Egyptian magic, Kemetic rituals that most wizards don't even know exist. They... they broke the Fidelius, Sirius. They used me against my will. They... they read my mind, Sirius, tore into my thoughts. I had no control."
Sirius sneered, his eyes narrowing. "You expect me to believe that? That you were just a pawn?""Yes!" Peter cried, taking a step forward. "Yes, I was! I swear, I would never have done it on my own. You know me, Sirius! I'm too weak to even think of crossing Voldemort, let alone fight against him. I never wanted to betray them, never. But they—they took me, Sirius. They used me like a tool."
Sirius didn't lower his wand, but his mind began to race. The Selwyns... ancient, dark magic... He had heard of the Selwyns' dabbling in forbidden rituals. It wasn't impossible. And the idea of Egyptian magic, of Kemetic rites—there was truth to that. He had encountered enough dark wizards in his time as an Auror to know that ancient magic had powers they barely understood.
He thought back to Augustus Rookwood, the Unspeakable. Rookwood had been two years ahead of Sirius at Hogwarts, a Slytherin with a brilliant mind. Even then, Rookwood had been a prodigy. Sirius remembered the rumors: Rookwood had designed a special reflecting coat, capable of deflecting almost any spell, save for the Killing Curse. If anyone had the capability of mastering ancient, dark magic, it was those like Rookwood—and, by extension, the Selwyns.
Sirius's mind began to turn, searching for holes in Pettigrew's story. "You were always weak, Peter," he said, voice cold. "But why the Selwyns? Why would they target you?"
Peter's eyes darted nervously. His fingers twitched, his body language betraying his panic. He licked his lips before answering. "I was easy prey, Sirius. You know that. They knew I was close to James and Lily. They needed someone on the inside, someone weak they could control. I didn't have a choice. They threatened me. And then they used magic—magic that's beyond anything we've learned. They broke the Fidelius."
Sirius glared at him, jaw clenched. "I find it hard to believe that they could simply overpower ancient magic like that. The Fidelius charm is powerful, Peter.""They didn't break it directly!" Peter rushed to explain, his voice trembling. "It wasn't about brute force. They... they used rituals that interfered with my mind. They twisted the spell through me. You know how sensitive mind magic is, Sirius.
They forced me to betray James and Lily without even realizing it at first."Sirius's eyes flashed with suspicion. He knew how dangerous mind magic could be, and the idea wasn't entirely implausible. But he wasn't willing to give Peter the benefit of the doubt just yet."And why didn't you come to us, Peter? Why didn't you tell us?"Peter's lip quivered.
"I was scared, Sirius. You know what they would've done to me if I disobeyed. I thought—if I just kept my head down, if I didn't fight back, maybe I could find a way out. But there wasn't one."Sirius's sharp mind cut through the desperate pleas. "You could've gone to Dumbledore. To me. You chose not to."Peter's face twisted, his fear now mingling with desperation. "You think I didn't want to? I did! But the Selwyns, they—" He swallowed hard, his eyes darting away.
"They planted... triggers. If I had told anyone, if I had even thought about betraying them, they would've known. They'd have killed me, Sirius. You know how Voldemort operates."Sirius clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. "How convenient," he said with a sneer, though he could feel a small part of him beginning to doubt. "So you're telling me you were an unwilling pawn in all of this? That you never meant to betray James and Lily?"Peter nodded frantically. "Exactly! They used me, Sirius. I never wanted any of this."
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Sirius could see the panic in Peter's eyes, the way his hands twitched nervously. It was plausible. Too plausible.
And that's what made it dangerous. Sirius's instincts told him that Peter wasn't entirely innocent, but there was enough truth in his words to make Sirius question his assumptions.The thought of Rookwood resurfaced in Sirius's mind. The Unspeakable had once been a brilliant wizard, and even Sirius had admired his intelligence—before Rookwood had been caught working for the Death Eaters.
If people like Rookwood were involved, then the Selwyns' manipulation of Peter wasn't beyond reason. Dark rituals, mind magic, ancient spells... Sirius had seen enough in his time as an Auror to know that anything was possible."I should kill you," Sirius whispered, his wand still trained on Peter. Peter flinched, tears welling in his eyes.
"Please, Sirius. I didn't want any of this. You have to believe me."Sirius's grip on his wand tightened. His anger surged, but it was mingled with doubt. Peter had always been weak, but could he have been manipulated so completely?"You'll never be free, Peter," Sirius growled. "Not from this. But if what you say is true, then maybe there's more to this than I thought."Peter's face lit with hope.
"You—you believe me?"Sirius didn't answer immediately. His sharp mind continued to sift through the possibilities. Rookwood, the Selwyns, dark magic—it fit, but it was still too convenient. And yet, Sirius knew how far dark wizards would go. He'd seen it firsthand.
"Run,"
Sirius finally said, voice low and dangerous. "Run, and never let me see your face again. If you're lying, Peter—if I find out that any of this is a lie—I'll kill you myself."Peter let out a sob of relief and scrambled to his feet. "Thank you, Sirius! Thank you—""Get out of my sight," Sirius hissed, and Peter didn't wait to be told twice.
He scurried away like the rat he was, leaving Sirius alone in the darkened street, his mind racing, torn between his fury and the nagging doubt that Peter's story had planted
Sirius Black was staring at his godson.
Who, quite ironically was lying in a bed in St. Mungos
And it was all because of him.
He should have been the one who had rescued Hadrian.
He should have been the one who had raised Hadrian.
But no, he ran off after the bloody Selwyns.
He remembered his reaction when he had came back to find that Hadrian, his godson, and the light of his life, was gone.
Sirius stormed into the room, his face flushed with anger. The sound of his boots echoed off the stone walls of Potter Manor. His sharp, intense gaze locked onto James and Lily, who stood near the fireplace. James turned around, surprise and confusion crossing his face. Lily's hand instinctively went to her wand, a nervous habit from the days when war and danger were constant companions.
But this time, it wasn't a Death Eater or some dark creature standing before them. It was Sirius, their best friend, and his rage was like a storm brewing, barely contained beneath the surface.
"You—sent—him—to—the—Dursleys?!" Sirius spat out, each word carrying the weight of betrayal. His fists clenched at his sides, the veins on his neck pulsing with fury. He took a step forward, his voice rising with each syllable. "To *them*? After everything we've been through? After everything *he's* been through? You left Hadrian—your own son—with those—those *monsters*!"
James shifted uneasily, his eyes darting to Lily, hoping for some kind of support, but Lily's face remained unreadable, her posture stiff and defensive. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "Sirius, you have to understand—"
"*Understand?*" Sirius cut him off, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "What exactly am I supposed to understand, James? That you thought it was a brilliant idea to dump Hadrian with those horrible people while you coddle Julian, the so-called 'Boy Who Lived'? That's what you want me to understand?"
Lily stepped forward, her voice calm but tinged with guilt. "We didn't have a choice, Sirius. We had to protect him—both of them. You don't understand the dangers we were facing, the enemies we made."
"Enemies *you* made," Sirius shot back, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between the two of them. "Hadrian was just a boy. He didn't make those choices. He didn't ask for any of this. And yet, you cast him aside, sent him to live with people who hate everything he stands for."Lily's hand tightened around her wand, her eyes flickering with an emotion Sirius couldn't quite place—guilt, shame, or maybe something darker. "It's not as simple as you think, Sirius," she said softly, though her voice trembled just slightly. "We thought it would be best for him, that being away from us—"
Sirius barked a bitter laugh. "Best for him? To be away from his *parents*? To be treated like dirt, like a freak in his own home? You call that best for him? You could have sent him to me!" His voice cracked as he slammed his hand against a nearby table, the sound reverberating through the room. "I would've taken him, loved him, raised him like my own! But no—you didn't trust me, did you?"
James opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to fail him. His eyes flickered with something Sirius couldn't quite place—regret, hesitation, and something deeper, darker. His fingers twitched at his side, a nervous habit Sirius recognized from their days as Marauders. But this wasn't the old James Potter—the reckless, brave friend Sirius had once known. This James was...different, colder, more distant.
"You couldn't trust me," Sirius continued, his voice lower now, but no less intense. "You thought I was still a child, didn't you? That I wasn't mature enough to raise Hadrian. But you trusted *them*—the Dursleys—people who hate everything about magic, everything about your own son. That's who you thought was best for him?"
James finally spoke, his voice firm but strained. "We didn't want to risk it, Sirius. You're unpredictable. You've always been reckless—"
"And *you* haven't?" Sirius shot back, his eyes blazing with anger. "You're the one who took risks with the bloody Elder Wand, James! Don't you dare lecture me about recklessness." He stepped closer, his face mere inches from James'.
"You're the one who got tangled up in that cursed wand, the one who couldn't see the damage it was doing to you. But instead of protecting Hadrian, you cast him aside because you thought he wasn't part of the bigger picture, because you believed in some twisted prophecy about Julian."
Lily flinched, her eyes darting away from Sirius. Her shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, Sirius saw the old Lily Evans—the one who would stand tall and defiant in the face of danger. But now, there was something broken about her, something haunted. Her hands twitched nervously, and she bit her lip, as if trying to hold back her words.
"It wasn't like that," Lily whispered, but the conviction in her voice was gone. "We—We were trying to protect them both."
Sirius's voice softened, but his anger still simmered beneath the surface. "Protect them from what, Lily? From yourselves? From the dangers you brought into your lives because of your obsession with power, with that damned wand? You were so caught up in your own fears, in your own guilt, that you abandoned your own son. Don't you see what you've done?"
James's jaw tightened, and for the first time, Sirius saw something flash in his eyes—shame. But it was fleeting, buried beneath layers of pride and denial. "We made the best choice we could, Sirius. You weren't there. You didn't see what we saw."
"And whose fault is that?" Sirius shot back, his voice rising again. "You didn't even give me a chance! You didn't even *tell* me what was going on. You just made your decisions and left me out of it."
James's hand clenched into a fist at his side. "It wasn't your fight, Sirius. You weren't ready—""Not my fight?" Sirius's voice broke, the pain in his words cutting deeper than any curse. "He's *my godson,* James. How could it not be my fight?"
The room fell silent for a long moment. Sirius's breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his emotions. James looked down at the floor, his expression unreadable, while Lily stood frozen, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
"You could have dropped him off with me," Sirius said, his voice barely above a whisper now. "But you didn't. You didn't trust me. You thought I wasn't good enough. And now—" He paused, swallowing hard, his throat tight with emotion. "Now, I don't think I can forgive you for that."Lily took a step forward, her voice trembling. "Sirius, we didn't mean to—"
"Don't," Sirius said sharply, holding up a hand to stop her. "Just—don't. It's done. The damage is done." He turned toward the door, his shoulders slumped as the weight of everything seemed to crush him all at once. "I won't have contact with either of you again. You made your choice.""Sirius—" James started, but the words were hollow, empty, like he already knew they wouldn't be enough.
Without another word, Sirius stormed out of the room, his anger and hurt following him like a shadow. The door slammed behind him, the sound echoing through the house, leaving James and Lily standing in silence.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, but the warmth in the room was gone, replaced by the cold weight of guilt and regret. Lily sank into a chair, burying her face in her hands as the tears finally fell. James stood frozen, his fists still clenched, his mind racing with the consequences of their choices.
But it was too late. Sirius was gone, and with him, any hope of mending what had been broken. The curse of the Elder Wand, the dark magic haunting Lily's mind, and Dumbledore's manipulations—all of it had led to this moment, and there was no turning back. The deed was done. The damage was irreversible.
And in the end, they were all left to bear the weight of their decisions alone.
----
Today was a very important day, they would be meeting one of France's most influential and powerful families, the Deleacours. After being discharged from the hospital, Sirius had suddenly remembered that he had an important meeting with Sebastien Deleacour. So here he was now.
Hadrian Potter stood before the mirror, his reflection a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The clothes he wore were the finest he had ever owned: a crisp white shirt with intricate silver embroidery, a dark green velvet jacket that fit him like a glove, and matching black slacks that seemed to shimmer slightly under the light. His polished black shoes completed the ensemble. The elegance of his attire contrasted sharply with his rough past, making him feel both sophisticated and out of place.
Sirius Black and Andromeda Tonks stood nearby, their expressions reflecting their mixed feelings. Sirius, ever the playful one, looked at Hadrian with a broad grin. His eyes, usually alight with mischief, held a touch of warmth as he teased, "Look at you, all dressed up like a proper gentleman. Let's see if the Delacours can handle your charm." His gaze flitted to Andromeda, a silent communication passing between them. Sirius's playful demeanor masked the concern he felt for Hadrian's well-being.
Andromeda's expression, however, was tinged with sadness. Her eyes, a soft grey, darted to Sirius before returning to Hadrian. The corners of her mouth turned downward in a faint frown, a reflection of her concern. "You look wonderful," she said softly, her voice betraying her worry. The disparity between Hadrian's current luxury and his harsh past was palpable to her, and it weighed heavily on her mind.
Hadrian took a deep breath and gripped the portkey, the cool metal pressing into his palm. The device activated with a brief, tingling sensation, and he felt himself being whisked through space. When he landed, he was greeted by the grandeur of the Delacour manor. The imposing stone walls, draped with ivy, and the sprawling gardens created a picturesque scene that left him breathless.
As Hadrian approached the manor, he was met by the Delacour family. Fleur Delacour, her blonde hair cascading in soft waves and her icy blue eyes sparkling with curiosity, offered him a warm smile. Her gaze lingered on him with a mixture of interest and a hint of guardedness. She adjusted her posture slightly, the delicate movement a subconscious sign of her awareness of the importance of this meeting.
Fleur's father, Sébastien Delacour, stood beside her. As the head of the French Unspeakables, he exuded an air of authority. His posture was rigid, his movements precise, yet his eyes softened with a flicker of welcome. He extended a firm hand to Hadrian. "Welcome, Mr. Potter. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." His voice was deep and measured, though there was a subtle tension in his shoulders, hinting at the weight of his responsibilities.Morgan Delacour, Fleur's mother, greeted Hadrian with a gracious smile. Her blue eyes were warm, but there was a trace of concern in her gaze as she looked at Hadrian. "We're delighted to have you," she said, her voice gentle but firm. Her hands, though elegant, fluttered slightly as she gestured for him to follow, revealing her underlying nervousness about this important occasion.
The dinner was a feast for the senses. The long dining table was set with golden plates and crystal glasses, each dish more exquisite than the last. The aroma of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and exotic fruits filled the room. Hadrian's eyes widened as he took in the array of food. He reached for a dish, his voice filled with awe. "Just for me?"
The question hung in the air, and the Delacour family exchanged uneasy glances. The abundance of food highlighted the stark contrast between Hadrian's previous life and his current surroundings. The sadness in their eyes spoke volumes about the difficult life Hadrian had led.
Sébatien, sensing the discomfort, cleared his throat and addressed Sirius. "Sirius, perhaps you'd consider staying with us for a week? Hadrian might benefit from a bit more time to acclimate."Sirius's playful demeanor shifted to a more serious tone as he considered the offer. "A week in such luxury? How could I refuse?" He flashed a charming smile, but his eyes softened with genuine concern. The underlying gravity of the situation was evident, even in his light-hearted response.
As the evening wore on, Hadrian found himself engrossed in conversation with Fleur and her family. Fleur, with her poised demeanor, asked, "So, Hadrian, how are you adjusting to everything?" Her eyes, though curious, held a hint of caution as she sought to gauge his reaction.
Hadrian's response was measured. "It's a lot to take in," he admitted, his voice steady but his eyes darting around the room, taking in the luxury he had never experienced. He was careful not to reveal too much about his past, his gaze flickering between the various members of the Delacour family.
As the evening drew to a close, Hadrian was shown to his room. The space was nothing short of enchanting, with rich furnishings and a large, comfortable bed. For the first time, he lay on a mattress that was soft and yielding, a stark contrast to the hard floors he had grown accustomed to. The novelty of the experience made it difficult for him to sleep.
Unable to settle, Hadrian stepped out onto the balcony. The view before him was breathtaking: the moonlit sea stretched out to the horizon, the gentle lapping of the waves creating a soothing melody. He leaned against the railing, the cool night air brushing against his face, and let himself relax for a moment.
The calmness he felt was a rare and cherished sensation, free from the constant fears and struggles that had plagued his past.
But as Hadrian gazed out into the distance, he failed to notice the pair of red eyes watching him from the shadows of the garden. The eyes gleamed with a malevolent light, a silent promise of danger lurking just out of sight.
The sense of peace Hadrian experienced was fleeting, overshadowed by the dark presence that observed him from afar.