https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-527-Sirius-Black-vs-Lucius-Malfoy/13685638/
Chapter 526: The Black Dog in Following
Draco Malfoy’s face paled instantly. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He watched as his father and mother exchanged a quiet nod, then turned and walked away. The father of Crabbe waited nearby, and the two men met, slipping past a tent and vanishing into the darkness.
Moments later, Draco felt a sudden tug on his wrist. Narcissa had gripped his arm and was pulling him swiftly toward the forest. He looked up, struck by how pale her face was—almost glowing in the night, like a ghost. Her fingers were icy cold.
"Mom..." Draco whispered, his voice trembling. "D-does that mean... they’re going to... kill someone?"
Draco wasn’t particularly brave, nor was he cold-hearted. The word “kill” sent a chill through him. He lowered his voice even further, his tone thick with fear.
"No," Narcissa said, glancing at her son. "They can't... they won't go that far. Not here. Not now. It's probably just... a bit of a prank."
She shuddered at the memory of what Death Eaters had done to Muggles decades ago—acts so cruel that even death would have been mercy. But as long as no one died, the incident wouldn’t be serious enough to attract Ministry attention. It could be covered up.
"But you look terrified," Draco said, tightening his grip on her freezing hand. "You’re not scared of what your husband is doing..."
"No," Narcissa murmured. "I’m not afraid of what he’s doing."
"Then what?"
She only pressed her lips together, refusing to say more. She kept pulling him forward, her steps quick and relentless.
Suddenly, Draco thought he caught a glimpse of a dark shape in the corner of his vision—a figure so large it resembled a bear. He turned sharply, but all he saw was a shadow sliding past the side of a tent, like a massive dog.
He opened his mouth to tell his mother, but then he froze. A Boggart had landed atop the clover-covered tent, writhing silently, clutching its face in agony. Its expression twisted into something grotesque, and its body seemed to swell, growing larger and more monstrous by the second.
The camp was full of strange creatures tonight. Draco shivered and looked down, quickening his pace. He just wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.
A few golden and green lights shot straight into the sky, then exploded with dazzling bursts of fireworks. The colorful light scattered across the cloud layer, turning the pitch-black night into a kaleidoscope of brilliance.
Laughter and music filled the air. A giant campfire burned bright, and people danced around it in celebration. Even those who weren’t fans of the Irish Quidditch team couldn’t help but join in the revelry.
Draco turned his back on the light and the joy, following his mother deeper into the pitch-black forest.
For some reason, the woods felt unnaturally distant tonight. Maybe it was just the tension—time always seemed to slow when fear gripped you.
He was lost in thought when Narcissa suddenly spoke, her voice sharp with alarm.
"Something’s wrong."
"What?" Draco asked, startled.
Narcissa crouched, scooping up a handful of ash between her fingers. She rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, then stood, her eyes wide with disbelief as she scanned the area.
"What is it?" Draco asked, his voice tight with dread.
"This was supposed to be the forest," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We should already be inside it..."
Draco’s breath caught. He stared at his mother, then at the open, flat expanse around them.
—What happened? Where did the forest go?
"Move!" Narcissa gasped, tugging him forward with sudden strength. She strode toward the remaining trees, her face frozen in a mask of icy determination, as if she were carved from darkness itself.
…
Sirius Black flicked his tail, following the mother and son for a short distance. When he realized they had stopped talking, he turned and darted off in pursuit of Lucius Malfoy’s trail.
Thanks to the Malfoys’ refined sense of aristocratic style and taste, Lucius had sprayed a faint but distinctive perfume—easy to track, even in the dark.
Thud!
Something landed on Sirius’s head, making him jump. He snapped his head around to see a Boggart rolling on the ground. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl, then simply stepped over it.
Ireland Boggarts were like sprites—dim-witted, harmless, and mostly harmless. But they were temperamental, ugly, and prone to doing bizarre, unsettling things that made no sense to humans.
Sirius stood alert, ears pricked, tail high, nose twitching as he sniffed the air.
Soon, he caught the scent he was searching for. He halted abruptly and ducked into the shadows.
A group of about seven wizards had gathered nearby. All wore hoods and masks, moving silently through the crowd toward the edge of the camp. The atmosphere was tense, charged with a wild, restless energy.
They kept walking until they reached a stone hut at the camp’s edge. One of them raised his wand and pointed—then the door swung open, though it had been locked.
Two wizards entered, returned moments later, and whispered low: "The house is empty. The Muggle administrator is missing."
The group paused. Then two more wizards went inside, returned, and nodded in confirmation. The first report hadn’t been a lie.
Sirius Black curled his lips in a silent grin.
"What now?" someone asked, voice thick with innocence. "Should we look for another administrator?"
"What if the other Muggles aren’t in their houses either?" another said sharply. "Then we change our target. Find a Mudblood instead."
Sirius’s teeth ground together. Even though the voice was low, he recognized it instantly—Lucius Malfoy.
The group drew closer, huddled in silence, then turned and began walking back toward the camp.
The celebration continued—people danced, sang, laughed. But some families with children were already packing up, preparing to sleep. A couple held their child and stepped toward their tent—only to freeze at the sight of the cluster of masked, strangely dressed wizards.
Fear flashed across their faces. They scrambled into their tent, fast.
"Look!" a masked wizard called out, pointing at a passerby. "Bobby Suarez! He’s a Mudblood!"
The man, mid-forties, flinched at the word. His face darkened instantly.
"Fuck—!" he spat.
A dozen wands were raised in an instant.
The man screamed, turned, and bolted—only to be lifted into the air as if by an invisible rope, unable to control his body.
"Expelliarmus!"
The spell struck Suarez. His wand flew from his hand, vanishing into the dark.
(End of Chapter)
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