Sirius looked at them questioningly, his gaze moving from one to the other. Godric's comment had clearly aroused suspicion in the man, who seemed caught between surprise and bewilderment. Salazar had to take a deep breath to stop himself from going after Godric. He had to remember that, innocent or not, they were dealing with a declared criminal whose level of danger was unknown. He was not going to leave Helga alone with him, no matter how much she knew how to defend herself.
"So... are you together?" Black finally ventured to ask.
"It depends on what you interpret 'together' to mean," Salazar said in a neutral tone.
"You should take a shower and change," Helga suggested with a seriousness that bordered on dangerous.
"That's a yes! It's corruption of a minor!" Sirius exclaimed.
Helga rolled her eyes, and Salazar let out a laugh, shaking his head with some amusement. Regardless, they looked at each other; they were thinking the same thing. Society as a whole would react in the same way—their moral systems were contaminated by the Ministry's policies. This could land them in serious trouble. In a worst-case scenario, Helga could be incapacitated, which could permanently tarnish her name. Salazar did not trust this man, not until he proved himself trustworthy. He did not want his partner and closest friend to be in trouble.
"From a certain point of view, it might not be, Black. It's debatable depending on the perspective you apply. Whether it's the law dictated by the current democracy or the law of ancient magical civilizations, in which the thirteenth year marks the death of the child and the birth of the man."
"Sirius. Call me Sirius, Harry. And how long have you been together?"
"We didn't say we were," Helga stated.
"I can feel it. The way you look at each other, the way you communicate... It's as if there's a special connection."
"Tonks is an Auror," Salazar said, looking at him with a serious expression. "We prefer to talk to her rather than cause a fuss and have the Dementors decide to search every small hectare of these lands."
"Now, you'll shower, change, and tell us your story," Helga commanded. "It's either that, or you're facing a deworming spell. You decide."
Reluctantly, Sirius entered the bathroom provided by the room. Once inside, he smiled when he saw that the bathtub was full of hot water. There were different types of soap and clothes that were not only clean but completely new. There were also shaving utensils and scissors for cutting hair. Forgetting for a moment that he was a prisoner of an Auror who seemed to have just left the Academy and two thirteen-year-old teenagers, he plunged into the hot water. He was determined to enjoy a bath like he hadn't had in a long time. Meanwhile, as Sirius Black enjoyed his first bath in almost thirteen years of imprisonment, Salazar and Helga—still controlling the door to the bathroom, which was now closed to preserve the fugitive's privacy—had a whispered conversation.
"I'm going to kill Godric."
"Don't worry, don't get so worked up. Besides, Black is not in a position to say anything. As for Godric, you know why he does it."
"He shouldn't meddle in this."
"He wants his friends to be well. It's something we haven't really talked about."
They had to end their conversation at that moment. Godric had returned, carrying food for the four of them. Immediately, the room provided two tables: one medium, elongated one for three diners and another for a single diner in front of the first. Between the three of them, they used their wands to distribute the different foods. The individual serving was for Sirius, and the other three were for themselves. Salazar took the opportunity to put a few drops of Veritaserum in Sirius' drink.
"There's so much," Helga observed. "The elves have truly outdone themselves, Godric."
"They tend to do that when you show them respect."
"Our guest has decided to honour us with his neatness," Salazar said, looking in the direction of the bathroom door.
Sirius had just walked out, dressed in his new clothes, clean-shaven, and with a haircut that left behind the wild look he'd had as a newly escaped prisoner. If you overlooked his extreme thinness, he seemed like a capable person. He could recover with a few good meals and some exercise. To be honest, Salazar did not condone that kind of torture on prisoners; criminals or not, they were still people.
The three of them—Godric, Helga, and Salazar—sat down at the table, with Helga in the middle of her two friends. They gave Black a serious look, pointing to the empty spot at the individual table.
"Well, tell us your point of view while we eat," Helga said. Since she was an Auror and currently the authority figure, it was better for her to lead the interrogation. "Start at the beginning. What happened the night Voldemort attacked the Potters?" she asked as soon as the prisoner took his first sip of his drink.
"That night, I had a bad feeling. I could feel something was wrong. We knew there was a traitor among us, and the overall atmosphere was becoming more and more rarefied. I decided to visit Peter where he was hiding, and when I saw that there was no one there and no sign of a struggle, I was alarmed." As he recounted this, Sirius looked in Harry's direction, and his expression was serious and calm. "I went to your parents' house. It was destroyed. At that moment, I only felt great despair. Hagrid was there; he had just pulled you out of the rubble. I argued with him. I wanted to take care of you, but he told me he had orders from Dumbledore to take you to your aunt and uncle, that you would be safer there. Your parents were dead, and I was confused and hurt by it. I just wanted revenge." He paused for a moment, as if it was difficult for him to talk about it. He took another drink from his glass, which was pumpkin juice. "I went after Peter. I wanted revenge; I wanted to hold him accountable. When I found him, he got ahead of me. He shouted that it was I who had betrayed Lily and James, blew up the street behind him, and cut off his own finger before disappearing into a rat. Peter Pettigrew is the real traitor, not me." He paused to eat some chicken and finish that first glass of juice.
"You said Pettigrew betrayed them, but how do you know it was him?" Helga asked, quickly grasping the most relevant point and redirecting the conversation.
"I was the only one who could have done it. Even if the rest of us knew where he was, none of us could reveal his location. Magic did not allow it. Only Peter could, because he was the Secret Keeper."
"Fidelius Charm," Godric murmured. Both Helga and Salazar nodded.
"When the Order learned that Voldemort was after Lily and James, Dumbledore suggested that they hide behind that enchantment. Dumbledore assured them that Voldemort was coming for you, Harry."
"Why would Voldemort want to kill me?"
"The prophecy, of course," Sirius replied, unable to resist doing so. The potion, and the fact that he hadn't been able to prepare for it, had compelled him. It was true that Occlumency would have served him well, but in the weakened state he was in, it was highly unlikely that he had the mind control to create an efficient shield. He opened his mouth in surprise when he realised the situation he was in. "You've given me Veritaserum!"
"Somehow, we had to know if you were lying or not," Salazar replied calmly, as if that were the most normal thing in the world. "Did you expect us to believe you by divine grace?" he asked a rhetorical question.
"Are you sure you're a Gryffindor? You talk like a snake."
"Why did Voldemort want to kill Harry?" Helga asked again, resuming the conversation.
"I don't know. He didn't tell anyone. Not even Lily or James. He only asked them to trust him. Only Dumbledore knows. In fact, I visited them from time to time to see how they were doing."
"If you and James Potter were as good of friends as the professors say and Peter was so clumsy, how did you choose Peter as your keeper?" Godric asked.
"Originally, I was going to be the keeper, but after a conversation with the Headmaster about the convenience of using decoys in wars, I changed to Peter. No one would expect someone weak to be the ultimate line of defence of those targeted by Voldemort. That was my mistake."
"Something I can't explain," Salazar said. "I read about the Fidelius after hearing about that enchantment from some seventh years. It's very complicated to make, well above the levels of an E.C.S.T.A.S.Y. How could someone as useless as Peter conjure it?"
"Well... he got 'Acceptable' in his S.C.A.M. in Charms. I suppose Lily would have conjured it. She was the best in the class and extraordinary at charms, as were Flitwick and Dumbledore."
"Albus Dumbledore has a double mastery," Helga reported, sharing her knowledge with her two companions. "Transformations and Charms. Why did you run away from Azkaban?"
"To commit the murder I was convicted of."
At that revelation, the three exchanged a look. The most serene of them was Salazar. In a way, he could understand that motivation; he didn't tolerate betrayal, either. But at the same time, he was well aware that revenge could reach a point of no return. Godric looked at him with surprise and shock; he had never contemplated revenge, even when darkness had taken away one of his friends. Helga looked at Sirius as if he were danger personified.
"Finish eating. The potion will pass in a few minutes," Salazar assured him.
"Am I your prisoner now?"
"You're not," Helga said. "But we can't let you go. We'll try to regularise your situation and make the real culprit pay, but not by your hand, my dear cousin."
"You're an Auror."
"This conversation is completely off the record. It wouldn't be happening if I had notified your capture. You've been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss."
"My grandmother says they want to make an example of you, Sirius," Godric added. "So we'll need to figure out what to do so you don't even have to show up."
"I'll stay in the Shrieking Shack from now on. At least it has a very spacious inner courtyard. I hate being locked up," Sirius said.
"We'll make sure you don't lack sustenance," Godric promised. "But you'll have to promise not to intercede or go back into the castle."
"Are you going to make me pronounce an Unbreakable Vow?"
"Don't tempt me," Salazar said in a somewhat dangerous tone of voice.
The room began to construct a new room, into which the three of them locked themselves, completely ignoring Sirius. At least for the moment, they had more serious matters to deal with. Sirius could not leave the Room of Requirement unless they gave him permission to do so; the room answered to them, and they had ordered it not to let him leave. That should be enough. Once they closed the door, Helga took care of the pertinent privacy charms.
"Because I have the impression that Dumbledore is involved in everything," Salazar murmured darkly, with a coldness he hadn't dared to manifest so far. He didn't like to be played with. And if they had played with him, who knew how many more lives had been played with? Dumbledore knows why Voldemort attacked my family, but he didn't say anything at the time, nor did he tell me when I asked two years ago. Dumbledore suggests hiding and using that convenient charm. Dumbledore interacts with them on a daily basis, but does not intercede for Sirius with the Ministry or ask for his trial."
"We already knew there was something murky about all this," Godric said. "But this is a front that is best put aside until we can deal with it. Regardless, I feel like telling him a few truths to his face."
"To go to your parents' house, the Secret Keeper must have given him the location, either verbally or in writing," Helga pointed out. "If it was written, he might not have known that your suggestion of the decoy was so."
"I know. As I also know that there are only two people who could have cast that enchantment," Salazar said.
"Flitwick is ruled out. He would have spoken up," Godric commented. "He has a reputation as a person of integrity and incorruptibility, although many dismiss him because of his goblin ancestry. That ancestry gives him a special mental barrier. He cannot be manipulated or have his mind modified by the magic of wizards."
"We're either facing a conspiracy or a concatenation of misfortunes," Salazar summarised with a sigh. "We can't just catch the rat. We have to force him to reveal himself. If possible, with adults who aren't just you, Helga. Your classmate and some other teacher will have to do."
"Then the time has come to start studying the plan of action," Helga said.
---
They had spent the next three weeks preparing for the ritual. Rituals were a type of magic that was increasingly falling into disuse, as they had discovered. Many had been lost to oblivion, and many others had been forbidden by law, branded as Dark Magic. Not everything labelled as 'dark' was actually dark magic; most of the time, the intention mattered more than the magic itself. However, many of the practitioners who had attempted these rituals lacked the preparation and experience required, which had led them to lose their minds. This impatience and a dwindling number of teachers created the perfect environment for the current negative view of such practices. It was something the three of them regretted—all that knowledge lost and, in many cases, corrupted. The sad thing was that it would be very difficult to change.
The specific ritual they needed, given the perversion of the magic they were looking for, walked a thin line between light and darkness. It was a path Salazar had always walked, and he knew that in his previous life, without his friends, he would have become one of those souls lost to darkness. Between the three of them, they had gathered all the materials needed: salt, a purifying element; seven candles—three white and four of different colours; and maps to reflect the markers of what they sought.
"Are we only going to use a map of the United Kingdom?" Godric asked. "If this ritual shows us the locations of the rest of the soul fragments, wouldn't it also show us the host?"
"According to Dumbledore, Voldemort is currently in Albania," Salazar said, looking at them meditatively. "It's possible that the host might show up, after all, a fragmented soul is still a fragmented soul."
"We'll need a map of Europe, too," Helga murmured. "With the maps, if they change location, we'll know."
"This ritual won't destroy the Diadem," Godric said.
"Yes, it will," Salazar assured him. "The Soul-Marker Potion requires a special ingredient: basilisk venom. The amount of venom won't be enough to kill a living being; in case of an accident, it would only make them very ill. But... it is capable of reaching a fragmented soul and destroying it in a matter of minutes. That's why we'll only have one chance."
"You're going to take it from Rhea's body, aren't you?" Helga asked with a small, sad smile. The two of them had already told her what had happened with the Chamber's guardian and the difficult decision they'd had to make.
"You'll want to pay your respects to him," Salazar replied.
"Alright, while you go and get that ingredient, I'll finish preparing the maps and get the lab ready for Helga," Godric said. "We have class soon."
It was very early. They had arranged to prepare everything for the night, as the ritual had to be performed during the hour of the wolf. The potion they needed had to be prepared that day, as it had a very low effective range of only twelve hours before it degraded. They left Godric in the Room of Requirement, and the two of them headed to the second-floor bathroom—what had once been Salazar's private laboratory.
"Ingenious, camouflaging the entrance as a toilet," Helga said. "Who would do that?"
"A Gaunt, for sure," Salazar replied, checking that Moaning Myrtle wasn't around. "All clear." He turned to the sinks, standing in front of them. "Open." As if it had an internal mechanism with gears that responded to a single password, the drain began to separate, and the sink sank into the floor, revealing a wide, inclined pipe that disappeared into the depths like an underground grotto. "Stairs," he requested, refusing to get his clothes stained with mud again.
They both lit their wands with a Lumos charm, and Harry made sure to tell the entrance to close until further notice. Last year, he had revealed the entrance to Dumbledore and McGonagall—something he would never have done if he had been fully awake at the time. He couldn't be sure they had kept that information to themselves, and he certainly didn't want to arouse suspicion. Going down to the Chamber of Secrets, he knew, wouldn't be well-received.
When they reached the bottom, the stairs returned to being the same smooth pipe as before. Salazar and Helga observed the room. It had a musty smell and was full of mud and small rodent bones. Further on lay the basilisk's skin, its last molt. Salazar thought about collecting it to use for potions or clothing. Over fifty metres of it was enough for a lot, and it had barely begun to degrade.
"Another day," Helga told him. "The important thing now is to make sure the tunnel doesn't fall on us. If it collapses, it could damage some parts of the castle."
"If it hasn't already," Salazar said.
He was pleased with her. They had to fix all that damage before it became an even greater danger. They would repair the walls and ceilings using the magic they had used in the past. The damage was significant, but the area was not extensive, so the two of them were enough to deal with the problem. Concentrating and making quick, precise wand movements, they soon left the tunnel as it had been before—neat, safe, and somewhat shiny. It was as if life had never passed through it. With the path clear, they advanced to the Chamber's entrance. The tunnel had only been the welcome corridor.
"Open."
The door allowed them to enter. The room was brighter now, thanks to the glow of the enchanted marble that brought light to the place. The basilisk's body occupied a large part of the chamber, and on the floor, in one corner, was a large stain of ink—the blood of the diary. The Horcrux that, without knowing what he was truly doing, he had destroyed last year.
"Aren't you going to check for eggs?" Helga asked, pointing to the cavern of the basilisk's lair, which had some communication with the outside world so that vermin could enter and feed Rhea.
"No. There are Acromantulas in the forest. They might want to claim this territory. In fact, I'm about to seal it completely," Salazar said seriously as he filled a small glass flask with the venom they needed. "Here, here it is. Keep it safe."
Salazar walked to an office he had in the Chamber, which he could only access after pronouncing a specific combination of words. In that office, among other things, he kept many books. He took a jar and a twenty-centimetre goblin-made dagger. He handed the antidote to Helga, the two of them communicating with their eyes as they often did. He then turned to the basilisk and impregnated the dagger with its venom.
"Goblin-worked metals are imbued with everything that makes them stronger, of course," Helga murmured.
Once the dagger was impregnated with venom, he let it rest, allowing the rest of the venom to dry. Finally, he put the dagger in its sheath with a satisfied smile; they already had an infallible weapon against those anchors. All that remained was to locate and destroy them, one by one.
"You'll agree this is better than Fiendfyre, my friend. Easier to control and less flashy."
"Let's go back. They shouldn't notice you're gone."
"True. Since Halloween, both teachers and seventh-years have been watching me, as if they were protecting me from something."
"An alleged murderer, perhaps?"
The two held each other's gazes for a few moments before exchanging a smile. It was time to leave and attend to their current obligations. The ritual would take place that night, and while they were in class, neither Salazar nor Godric could be in charge of preparing it.