𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍 | 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘺

Chapter 80 - Priori Incantatem

Betelgeuse and George rose to their feet as a contrite look took over Minerva McGonagall's face. "I am afraid the invitation is addressed only to Miss Black, Mr Weasley. I am sorry."

Betelgeuse saw George slowly nod as he embraced her once again. The Black followed with her grey eyes her best friend's figure become smaller and smaller as he approached the Castle.

"This way, Miss Black."

The grounds of Hogwarts appeared quieter than ever; not a single soul roamed the Castle. A kind of numbness and a sense of complete unreality were upon her. She could not think about anything that had transpired since the Triwizard Tournament had begun. She did not want to have to probe the memories, fresh and sharp as Muggle photographs, which kept flickering across her mind.

The sickeningly cheerful music of the orchestra.

Sirius' frantic screams.

Cedric's pallor.

Mr Diggory's lacerating cries of despair.

The Dark Lord return.

Her father's safety.

Her father—

"Professor," Betelgeuse murmured, "where are Mr and Mrs Diggory?"

"They are with Professor Sprout," Professor McGonagall replied as her voice shook slightly. "She was Head of Cedric's house, and knew him best."

They had reached the stone gargoyle. McGonagall gave the password, it sprang aside, and the two women went up the moving spiral staircase to the oak door.

It slowly opened.

Betelgeuse regarded Dumbledore, sited behind his desk, take his eyes off a pale and shaking Harry as Sirius stood motionless in front of Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait.

"Dearest," the older Black exhaled, taking long steps towards Betelgeuse; his face was white and gaunt as it had been when he had escaped Azkaban. In one swift moment, he had crossed the room. "Dearest, are you all right? I knew it — I knew something like this would happen — how?"

His hands shook as he held his niece tightly against his chest.

"What happened?" Betelgeuse inquired, borrowing her head into Sirius' chest and inhaling his familiar and comforting scent.

Dumbledore began to tell the younger Black everything that had transpired hours prior.

How Barty Crouch Jr had escaped from Azkaban with the help of his dying mother and desperate father.

How he had been serving as the most devoted and trusted follower of Voldemort.

How he had stunned the real Alastor Moody and brewed the Polyjuice Potion with the help of the fugitive Peter Minus and transformed the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey to make Harry meet his master.

Betelgeuse was only half listening. She felt Potter's thoughts run wild inside his mind as if he was speaking in clangorous outcries. The boy was so tired; he wanted nothing more than to sit there, undisturbed, for hours and hours, until he fell asleep and did not have to think or feel anymore.

There was a soft rush of wings.

Betelgeuse raised her head from Sirius' chest and watched, transfixed, as a phoenix left its perch, flew across the office, and landed on Harry's knee.

" 'Lo, Fawkes," Harry greeted quietly as he stroked the phoenix's beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. The mystic animal blinked peacefully up at him.

There was something comforting about the scene, Betelgeuse thought.