𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍 | 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘺

Chapter 51 - A Phantom from the Past

Quickly recovering, Betelgeuse turned to him, "Uncle, he is waiting for us in the drawing-room." She turned around and walked at a leisurely pace towards the grand staircase that led to the upper floors of 12 Grimmauld Place. Betelgeuse heard Sirius' footsteps behind as he followed her, and a strangled noise as he laid his grey eyes on the row of shrunken house-elf heads, mounted on the wall on plaques.

As they landed on the first-floor, Betelgeuse led the way to the drawing-room. It was exquisite, with large windows overlooking the street in front of the house, a large fireplace flanked by two ornate glass-fronted cabinets, and an entire wall covered with a tapestry of the Black family tree. Betelgeuse admitted to herself that the room needed a good cleaning, as she had an inkling the heavy burgundy curtains housed some Doxies. The writing desk had been the dwelling of a Boggart that now resided in the attic; the dark items in the cabinets — from snakeskins to bottles of blood to boxes of Wartcap Powder — were old family possessions neither one of them were ready to part with.

Sirius was so engrossed in his scrutiny of his father favourite room that he did not see the man standing in the corner of the room, half-hidden by the shadows of the night. But Betelgeuse did see him. She met the panicked look of the tall, dignified man with a reassuring nod. Betelgeuse proceeded farther into the room, stepping on the ancient and priceless Persian carpet without making any noise.

If someone had observed from outside the three figures, he would have seen a young girl, tall and proud, with her mysterious grey eyes set on the two men, positioned between the two like a safe barrier. Sirius, with long black hair, thin but attractive, with his clear grey eyes dancing between an object and another, lost among memories long forgotten. And lastly, another man was present, younger than the first one, tall and of noble bearing, with hair darker than a starless night and eyes of pure liquid silver.

Betelgeuse stood still as an ancient Greek statue; stolid, but ready to spring into action.

"Sirius," came the sound of a masculine voice, elegant and firm, and yet with a note of deeply felt relief, as if he had longed for that precise moment all his life.

Betelgeuse saw her uncle flinch, startled by the sudden voice; he lowered his stance as if ready to battle the unknown foe. His eyes were frantically searching around the room as Betelgeuse took a step towards the startled man. She wanted to comfort him, tell him he was safe now, but it was too late. Sirius' wild grey eyes settled at last on the stranger in the corner. The man was protected by the embrace of the darkness, but Sirius could never mistake the eyes of the man he was now facing.

Mercury grey eyes.

He took a step back, frightened.

No, it could not be.

His long imprisonment in Azkaban had finally claimed the last ounce of sanity he had tried to guard. Sirius was trembling by now; Betelgeuse could see it. He was on the verge of a panic attack.

The man in the corner took a cautious step forward.

"NO!" Sirius shouted, pulling his long hair with his hands. "S-stay back!"

"Sirius," the man feebly called out, his own voice broken by looming tears.

"N-no, please," Sirius implored, collapsing against the dainty working table. The man took another calm step towards Betelgeuse's shattered uncle. The girl had silent tears descending from her large, puffy grey eyes. They fell on the expensive carpet like the heavy rain of a summer storm sank on the awaiting soil.

"N-no, no," Sirius continued, shaking his head, "It cannot be."

"Sirius," the man continued. The deep masculine voice Betelgeuse knew had shrunk to a fragile thread of sound. "Siri."