Chapter 673: Secret and Guardianship
“You’re still young. No need to start wearing the masks of old men too soon.”
Standing outside the Door, Sirius Black’s anger had softened considerably. His voice was low, almost gravelly. He gripped Wade’s arm, slowing his pace as they moved forward, eyes fixed ahead. His fingers twitched involuntarily—tightening, then releasing—leaving faint creases in the boy’s sleeve.
Wade glanced sideways. Time hadn’t eroded his handsomeness, but it had etched the shadows of Azkaban into the fine lines around his eyes.
Something flickered in his mind. Sirius Black’s voice suddenly dropped to a rough, raw whisper:
“When we were your age, me and James Potter… and of course Remus… we spent our days outwitting Filch, plotting midnight wanderings, or hatching schemes to prank a few sneaky Slytherins…”
A faint, wistful smile touched his lips—before twisting abruptly into something deeper, darker.
“Back then, war still raged outside. But we… we rarely thought about it. You’re only fourteen, yet you’ve had to watch people be tried, listen to… to all that….”
He turned sharply away. Wade caught the faint, grinding sound of teeth.
“Damn maturity. Damn weighing the costs!” Sirius Black suddenly exploded, voice sharp with fury—though it was unclear who he was raging at. He cursed for several minutes, then turned back to Wade.
“Listen, kid. Leave that to the old hands. You’ve got the right to be foolish, to care nothing, to charge headfirst—just like we did.”
A soft whisper drifted from the corridor’s portrait gallery.
Wade looked up at the man—thirty-something, still bearing the reckless spark of youth. His throat moved slightly. A pure, gentle smile curved his lips.
“Sirius Black…”
The boy’s voice was soft, bright. “I’m not Harry. I’m not some ordinary child who needs protecting. I chose to be here.”
“I know,” Sirius Black said, voice rough with emotion. He reached out, ruffled Wade’s hair—rough, but warm.
“Just as long as I’m alive, you can still be reckless little fools for a few more years. No need to rush into the darkness just yet. Let me have my moment to be the cool godfather, huh?”
Wade stared into his eyes. He opened his mouth, but no words came. The weight on his head felt heavy, burning.
“Sirius Black!”
The familiar voice made both men turn. Harry came sprinting down the corridor, breathless, adjusting his crooked glasses.
“I thought I saw wrong… What are you doing at Hogwarts?”
Sirius laughed, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Well, I came to see our Champion. And give Dumbledore a hand with some… minor business. Oh, how’s your Third Tournament project coming along?”
“Oh, I’ve learned two new useful spells recently—Hermione says this’ll keep me from getting lost in the Forbidden Forest…” Harry chattered excitedly. Sirius smiled and nodded. Wade only occasionally chimed in.
After a while, Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Alright, lads. Curfew’s almost here. Better head back before some professor catches you.”
Harry looked disappointed, but glancing at the clock, he reluctantly said goodbye and left with Wade.
As the two boys vanished around the corner, Sirius Black’s smile slowly faded. He leaned against the cold stone wall, pulling out a crumpled chocolate frog from his pocket. He tore open the wrapper and stuffed the candy into his mouth.
Somewhere in the distance, Peeves cackled, teasing a late-night student.
Sirius stood motionless, his gray eyes swirling with complex emotions.
Fragments of clues swirled in his mind—but they refused to form a whole picture. Yet for a Gryffindor, he didn’t need proof. He trusted his instinct.
—Was it you? The one Little Barty Crouch spoke of.
He ran a thumb over the crumpled wrapper, the paper whispering between his fingers.
He remembered the moment Little Barty Crouch had confessed to killing Muggles—the flicker of something on the boy’s face. Was it rage for the innocent victims? Or was it the fury of someone who couldn’t bear to see the boy’s suppressed pain, and so unleashed his own emotions like a volcano?
—After today, Dumbledore will just sigh again, shake his head, and think I’ll never stop being reckless.
But…
Who cared?
“Hmph.” A dry chuckle escaped through his teeth. His canines ground together. The torchlight danced across the stone wall, casting his profile in flickering shadows.
The chocolate had long melted—sweet syrup mixing with bitter cocoa on his tongue.
Dazed, Sirius Black saw James Potter leaning on the railing, fiddling with a Golden Snitch, his messy black hair glowing in the sunlight, a wild, defiant grin on his face.
His eyes blinked.
The image blurred—then shifted into Harry.
Green eyes, clear and bright, always smiling, always trusting. His kindness was so deep it bordered on self-sacrifice—something forged in childhood pain.
Another blink.
The illusion vanished. Only silence remained. The corridor was empty. Students had returned to their dormitories. The castle felt vast, hollow.
“Madness…” Sirius muttered, shaking his head.
He’d meant to question Wade further. But now, he abandoned the thought. No need to ask.
Some truths don’t need proof. Just like how, before James ever learned to become an Animagus, he never questioned Remus about his full moon secrets. Or how, when they took in a runaway Sirius Black, no one asked why he’d severed ties with his family.
Just the memory of that boy’s suppressed fury—burning in his eyes—was enough. The kind of fire that only comes from sympathy for strangers, from anger at injustice. It couldn’t exist in a cold-blooded heart.
So—whether Wade was the one who’d once killed Voldemort or not… Sirius Black didn’t care.
He only needed to know the boy was worth believing in.
And yet, this quiet, cynical, silent boy—so unyielding on the outside—had a heart far softer than anyone would guess.
And some people… when they smiled gently, one couldn’t help but wonder if their hearts were as cold as stone.
Sirius took a deep breath. The icy air filled his lungs.
He licked his teeth, turned, and walked back toward Filch’s office.
The door creaked open. The interrogation was nearing its end.
Little Barty Crouch slumped in his chair, a ghastly smile frozen on his face, his voice slurred and feverish:
“The Master’s plan… it’s about to succeed… He’ll be stronger than ever… the entire Wizarding World will kneel at his feet… And me… I’ll receive rewards beyond any wizard’s wildest dreams…”
His voice trembled with manic obsession, the last words barely audible.
Then, his head lolled sideways. He fell into unconsciousness—yet the smile remained, fixed in place.
(End of Chapter)
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