ALL 40 FREE CHAPTERS ON MY PATREON ALREADY -patreon/TheUncrownedKing
--
Grimmauld Place was silent when the doorbell rang. Sirius Black rushed to the entrance, heart hammering, and pulled it open.
Albus Dumbledore stood on the step, robes faintly glimmering in the early light. Beside him—Remus Lupin.
Sirius' chest tightened. "Moony—Merlin, I never thought I'd see you here." He stepped forward, arms open.
But Lupin recoiled, face carved with suspicion. "If not for Dumbledore stopping by to invite me to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, I wouldn't even know you'd crawled out of Azkaban. Tell me, Sirius—did Voldemort himself teach you how to escape? Was that your reward for betrayal?"
The words landed like knives. Sirius' jaw clenched. "I never betrayed them!"
"Enough." Dumbledore's voice was calm but cut through the tension. "And I am no longer headmaster. I was dismissed. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, Muggle-born students attacked. The Board thinks removing me will soothe panic."
Sirius froze. "Not a Death Eater plot, then? Of course—Austin. He was after something else. My rescue was part of it."
Lupin's hand tightened on his wand. "Convince me. Otherwise I'll make sure the Aurors return you to Azkaban—straight to the Dementors' Kiss."
For a moment Sirius sagged, resignation in his eyes. Then he snapped upright. "That's why I called you. I saw it myself. A man—calls himself Austin. He bent Dementors to his will. They pretend to serve the Ministry, but they're his creatures now."
He led them into the tapestry room, pointing at the enchanted wall. "I played along, pretended to agree with him, just to get out. When we returned here, I locked him in the cellar and sent for you."
Dumbledore studied the tapestry, murmuring, "A bloodline ward. Like a variant of the Fidelius Charm—effective, but flawed. A drop of blood, or a house-elf's service, and the vaults yield."
He turned back, eyes sharp. "Tell me more about Austin."
Sirius spoke quickly. "He appeared in Azkaban as if dropped from the sky. Obsessed with gold—offered to sell me Pettigrew's whereabouts. When the Dementors came, I thought he'd run. Instead, he killed one. Another, he drained like… like their own Kiss. Then he bound the rest. Every last one."
His voice shook. "His magical reserves are tiny—like a sixth-year's. But he casts without incantations, without a wand. Just gestures—and horrors follow."
Lupin scoffed. "Azkaban rotted your mind. No one kills Dementors. No one enslaves them."
But Dumbledore didn't laugh. "You're certain he named Pettigrew?"
Sirius nodded.
Something softened in Dumbledore's gaze. "Then perhaps you deserve an apology. If Pettigrew lives, then your innocence remains unproven—but possible. Once he is found, the truth will out." He glanced toward the cellar. "Let us meet Austin."
Sirius opened the secret arch. Dumbledore stepped forward—only for Lupin to block him. "Sirius goes first."
Sirius gave a bitter smile. "Still don't trust me. Look at me, Remus—I don't even have a wand. What trap could I set for Dumbledore himself? Or do you still believe I'm worse than a Death Eater?"
Lupin's eyes were flint. "You pretended loyalty before. Ask James and Lily how that ended. Dog."
The insult cut deep, but Sirius forced the rage down. "When Pettigrew is caught, I'll explain. Until then, believe what you like." He stepped into the stairwell.
Dumbledore's hand brushed Lupin's shoulder. "He didn't run. He called for me. That, at least, speaks of honor."
They descended together.
The chamber was empty. Only disturbed dust, scattered footprints, and an overturned pile of gold.
Lupin sneered. "So this is Austin? A phantom?"
But Dumbledore moved to the workbench, sharp eyes catching the faint outline of where something had rested. His voice dropped. "He was here. He took more than coin. He took what was kept on this table."
His gaze fixed on Sirius. "You said he had another purpose. Do you know what once sat here?"
Sirius shook his head. "Too long gone. But someone does." He raised his voice. "Kreacher!"
With a crack, the elf appeared, bowing low. "Master calls? Kreacher lives to serve the noble House of Black." His voice slipped into mutters. "Filthy half-bloods… trampling Mother's floors…"
Sirius ignored the bile. He jabbed a finger at the bench. "What used to sit here?"
Kreacher scrambled up, peered at the dust, and froze. His eyes bulged. He wailed, clutching his head.
"Thieves! The precious is gone! Mistress's treasure was not destroyed—Kreacher guarded it! But now—stolen!"
Sirius' temper ran hot—twelve years of Dementors had burned patience out of him. When Kreacher wept and muttered on the workbench without giving a straight answer, Sirius' fists itched for violence.
Dumbledore intervened before he snapped. Producing a bar of chocolate, he handed it over. "Eat. Then order him to speak plainly."
Sirius devoured it, bitterness easing as warmth spread through him. He turned on the elf, voice sharp. "Now. Tell me what Austin took."
Kreacher froze, then whispered, "A locket, master. The most wicked object in this house. Master Regulus commanded me to destroy it. Kreacher tried—drills, axes, fire—but nothing worked. Kreacher failed him."
Dumbledore's brows lifted. "A locket. Describe it."
For the first time, Kreacher noticed the old wizard. He bowed low. "Good evening, Albus Dumbledore, greatest of white wizards. The locket bore a serpent in the shape of an 'S.' Master Regulus stole it from the Dark Lord. Inside lies the Dark Lord's secret."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "A serpent. A locket. Voldemort's hand in it. Could it be… Slytherin's relic?"
Sirius' face twisted. "Austin's greed was a mask. He saved me for leverage. He knew the vault held something tied to Voldemort."
Dumbledore's tone grew grave. "If that's true, he cannot be left unchecked. Think carefully—did he drop any hint of where he might go?"
Sirius raked a hand through his hair. "Nothing certain. Only… he seemed fascinated by enchanted vehicles. He might hunt for parts to build one. And he left with pockets full of gold."
Remus finally spoke, voice low. "If he's still in London, he'll need a bed. Magical inns are few. The Leaky Cauldron tops the list."
"Good," Dumbledore said. "I'll go to Azkaban myself, learn how the Dementors bent to him. Remus, Kreacher—you search London. Sirius, stay hidden. The Ministry doesn't yet know you've escaped."
On the street, Dumbledore added quietly, "Remember—he casts wandless, silently. Do not engage. Watch only."
Remus nodded and raised his wand. With a bang, the Knight Bus screeched to a halt.
The conductor eyed him. "Evening, sir. Thought you were that Chinese fellow again—the one who chased us on foot."
Remus froze. "You saw him?"
Minutes later he was back at Grimmauld, face taut with urgency. "Professor, I know where he is. He boarded nearby. Rode straight to the Leaky Cauldron."
Dumbledore's expression darkened. "The Leaky Cauldron… curious. Why hasn't he rushed to Voldemort with the locket?"
"Maybe he already has," Remus said. "Or maybe he's no servant at all. Maybe he just saw an artifact and pocketed it."
Dumbledore considered, lips pressed thin. It was possible. Mystery always tempted the bold.
Sirius had no patience left. "Kreacher. Go. Watch him. Report back when Dumbledore returns."
The elf's ears twitched. "Gladly, master." With a crack, he vanished—then reappeared in the inn's corridors.
He followed the sound of snores to a door. Pressed close. "Yes. His voice. The thief who stole the locket."
Reason whispered that watching from the hall wasn't truly watching. Better to stand inside.
The moment Kreacher appeared in the room, the snores cut off.
Li Feng's instincts, honed by world-hopping, never slept. In one fluid motion he sat up, sword drawn. His eyes locked on the elf. "Kreacher? Sirius send you?"
The elf ignored the tremor in the air as wards cracked. He hissed, "You stole Master Regulus' locket."
Li Feng jabbed toward the scroll-wrapped bundle nearby. "Relax. I know how to destroy it."
That word snapped something loose in Kreacher. Years of torment under Regulus' final order, years of poisoning under the locket's aura—suddenly, clarity.
But with clarity came calculation. "Respected Master Austin," he said cautiously, "what are your terms? I serve the House of Black. If you name a price, I will weigh it."
Li Feng tapped his brow, then smiled. "A translation tool. Something that turns wizard script into Muggle text. Preferably Chinese."
Kreacher blinked. Of all demands, this was laughably simple. "If it is only a few books, I can translate. But if many—buy a Translation Quill. It will render wizarding texts into Muggle languages. Expensive, yes, but real."
Li Feng chuckled. Of course. Obsessive Muggle-watchers would have invented such a thing. With gold in his pocket, he could own one by morning.
His eyes gleamed. Soon, even the deepest wizarding secrets would open to him.
--
Read extra free chapters on Patreon! at patreon/TheUncrownedKing