─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
As August wore on, the square of unkempt grass in the middle of Grimmauld Place shriveled in the sun until it was brittle and brown. The inhabitants of number twelve were never seen by anybody in the surrounding houses, and nor was number twelve itself. The Muggles who lived in Grimmauld Place had long since accepted the amusing mistake in the numbering that had caused number eleven to sit beside number thirteen.
And yet the square was now attracting a trickle of visitors who seemed to find the anomaly most intriguing. Barely a day passed without one or two people arriving in Grimmauld Place with no other purpose, or so it seemed, than to lean against the railings facing numbers eleven and thirteen, watching the join between the two houses. The lurkers were never the same two days running, although they all seemed to share a dislike for normal clothing. Most of the Londoners who passed them were used to eccentric dressers and took little notice, though occasionally one of them might glance back, wondering why anyone would wear such long cloaks in this heat.
The watchers seemed to be gleaning little satisfaction from their vigil. Occasionally one of them started forward excitedly, as if they had seen something interesting at last, only to fall back looking disappointed.
On the first day of September there were more people lurking in the square than ever before. Half a dozen men in long cloaks stood silent and watchful, gazing as ever at houses eleven and thirteen, but the thing for which they were waiting still appeared elusive.
Sara, Ron and Hermione were in the kitchen when Harry's voice yelled at them from the hallway; he had just come back from one his patrols at the entrance of the Ministry.
The kitchen was almost unrecognizable. Every surface now shone: Copper pots and pans had been burnished to a rosy glow; the wooden tabletop gleamed; the goblets and plates already laid for dinner glinted in the light from a merrily blazing fire, on which a cauldron was simmering. Nothing in the room, however, was more dramatically different than the house-elf who hurried toward Harry, dressed in a snowy-white towel, his ear hair as clean and fluffy as cotton wool, Regulus's locket bouncing on his thin chest.
Harry brought them news of how Snape became headmaster and Mr. Weasley looking fine as he went to work.
Ron nodded his appreciation at the news of his father. They had agreed that it was far too dangerous to try and communicate with Mr. Weasley while he walked in and out of the Ministry, because he was always surrounded by other Ministry workers. It was, however, reassuring to catch these glimpses of him, even if he did look very strained and anxious.
"Dad always told us most Ministry people use the Floo Network to get to work," Ron said. "That's why we haven't seen Umbridge, she'd never walk, she'd think she's too important."
"And what about that funny old witch and that little wizard in the navy robes?" Hermione asked.
"Oh yeah, the bloke from Magical Maintenance."
"How do you know he works for Magical Maintenance?" Sara asked curiously, putting a spoon full of soup into her mouth.
Ron shrugged. "Dad said everyone from Magical Maintenance wears navy blue robes."
Hermione gasped. "But you never told us that!"
Hermione dropped her spoon and pulled toward her the sheaf of notes and maps that she, Sara and Ron had been examining when Harry had entered the kitchen.
"There's nothing in here about navy blue robes, nothing!" she said, flipping feverishly through the pages.
"Well, does it really matter?"
"Ron, it all matters! If we're going to get into the Ministry and not give ourselves away when they're bound to be on the lookout for intruders, every little detail matters! We've been over and over this, I mean, what's the point of all these reconnaissance trips if you aren't even bothering to tell us—"
"Blimey, Hermione, I forget one little thing —"
"You do realize, don't you, that there's probably no more dangerous place in the whole world for us to be right now than the Ministry of —"
"I think we should do it tomorrow," Harry announced; the three looked at him in shock.
"Tomorrow?" repeated Hermione. "You aren't serious, Harry?"
"I am," Harry spoke slowly. "I don't think we're going to be much better prepared than we are now even if we skulk around the Ministry entrance for another month. The longer we put it off, the farther away that locket could be. There's already a good chance Umbridge has chucked it away; the thing doesn't open."
"Unless," said Ron, "she's found a way of opening it and she's now possessed."
"Wouldn't make any difference to her, she was so evil in the first place," Sara gagged at the mention of their least favorite toad.
Hermione was biting her lip, deep in thought.
"We know everything important," Harry went on, addressing Hermione. "We know they've stopped Apparition in and out of the Ministry. We know only the most senior Ministry members are allowed to connect their homes to the Floo Network now, because Ron heard those two Unspeakables complaining about it. And we know roughly where Umbridge's office is, because of what you heard that bearded bloke saying to his mate—"
"'I'll be up on level one, Dolores wants to see me,'" Hermione recited immediately.
Sara decided to leave the kitchen at that point, leaving her food unfinished. She knew that when her brother wanted something, it would happen so the three would indeed go to the Ministry the next day while the ginger agreed to stay back at Grimmauld Place.
She wasn't on it at first since it was unfair that the three would be risking their lives and she would stand back, worrying if they would come back or not.
But just as she said, her brother was very stubborn and Sara eventually dropped the argument in favor of doing her own little investigation.
The next morning she saw them off pretty early, making Harry promise that they would come back safe and sound.
"Would the Mistress like anything in particular?" Kreached asked from the kitchen's doorway. The elf looked funny, changed as he was, but the ginger had learnt to enjoy his stories about the late Regulus Black.
"It's alright, Kreacher, thank you," she offered him a little smile. "I'll be upstairs if you need anything, okay?"
The elf nodded, hurrying back to the kitchen while Sara made her way upstairs.
For a few weeks now, she had debated whether she should try and truly investigate Regulus' room for any clues regarding the Black family ring. The night before she had finally cleaned the room, putting everything into place and getting rid of the dust that coated every surface.
The Slytherin colors of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bed, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto, TOUJOURS PUR. Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. They were about Voldemort and things he had done while her parents were still at school so she doubted she would find anything important written there.
It was not only the ring that clouded her thoughts, it was also the old letter stored safely in her own little bag that Hermione helped charming, currently hidden safely in her boots; she wouldn't take any chances. Dumbledore had said that she was crucial and that the letter would help her get done what needed to be done.
In each of the outcomes, Sara had an impression that she would need to die.
What a funny way to tell her that she had been raised only to die as a sacrifice.
She opened every cupboard, felt for any hidden compartment under them, looked at every piece of the old clothes that were still hanging up in the dresser, examined each old piece of parchment or textbook and used a charm to detect invisible ink, if there was any.
So far, she hadn't found anything that would match with the ring and no clues were hidden either.
Maybe Dumbledore just decided to taunt her until she had to eventually take her last breaths.
The ginger layed down on the bed and as her head hit the pillow, there was a creaking sound from what was underneath the mattress. Sara raised a brow, jumping straight up and getting rid of the green covers.
After struggling a little, the mattress was on the floor, revealing the wood underneath. Sara touched the plank she believed had made the sound and it creaked again, leaving the ginger to hum in victory.
Her wand was forgotten somewhere inside her bag so there was only one thing left to do, use her geminent powers to break the wood.
Since she found out what she truly was, Sara had only used her invisibility powers instead of deciding to blast a whole town with what she could do; there had been no one to teach her how to control them and she wouldn't dare hurt the people she loved.
A part of the wood crumbled to ashes after she set it on fire, careful not to start a fire inside the building. A letter, similar to the one hidden in her purse, lay down on the clever little compartment made by Regulus.
Sara took it, congratulating herself on not setting it on fire as well. With shaking fingers, she got the yellow parchment out of the envelope, sending it flying across the room.
Dear brother,
It's funny how this family is truly doomed, isn't it? I've made the worst mistakes I could and I regret not being your biggest supporter after you got sorted into the 'wrong house'.
I can't change it now, I wish I could and I really want you to find this letter so you can understand. Our parents are shit and made me do this, join him, eventually finding my doom.
Because tomorrow, whether I want it or not, I'll probably be dead, my body at the bottom of the water.
There are some things you really need to know such as Horcruxes, parts of souls that can keep someone alive through terrible dark magic even after they're dead. I have found one, I don't doubt that there are more since this man is sick beyond anything, even his bones are rotten, his mind spinning in the clusters of insanity.
So, you need to stay alert and even if you and your gang of little warriors defeat him, he should be bound to come back unless you destroy all of his little soul holders. Tell anyone who's capable of that, in the meantime, one of these things will probably remain with Kreacher and I'll order him to destroy it, but if he fails to do so, please help him.
I wonder why we were created to die, I wonder why everything suddenly becomes more precious to us before we realize that we don't have much more time. I've realized how wrong it was of me to drive you away, to listen to my parents instead of you, to be obsessed with blood purity.
It was all shit in the end and now I'm left with nothing.
So I hope you find this letter and pass it around, making sure you save the Wizarding World just like you used to save me from mother's wrath.
You're still my hero, Sirius, and you will always be even when I can't breathe anymore, even when I have passed onto the next world.
You should also beware of Peter Pettigrew, he has joined the Dark Lord and is feeding him precious information, so you should get rid of him before any of your forces die.
I love you, big brother. I haven't been capable of love in a long time, but I know that I still love you.
See you when you fall asleep, preferably of old age.
R.A.B.
Sara felt tears running down her cheeks as the letter caught on fire, crumbling to ashes in her hand. Regulus had been one of the sacrifices necessary to set everything in motion, it seemed, someone who had realized his mistakes and made up for them.
"Sirius would be so proud of you," she whispered, looking at the framed moving picture standing on one of his dressers where it showed the Slytherin Quidditch team what felt ages ago; he was standing in the middle, the position assigned for the seeker.
There was a sudden noise from downstairs and Sara wiped her tears away, noticing that the Sun had gone quite down since she arrived in the room. The others were probably back, maybe even with the damned locket.
She closed the door, making a mental note to go back there as soon as she could, walking down the stairs in a rush, Mrs. Black starting her usual cursing and screaming at the noise that was made.
"Guys?" Sara yelled as she finally had the kitchen door in sight, lingering at the top of the stairs.
She should've kept her wand with her, but the universe always decided to hit you right where you were the weakest.
It wasn't either of her friends that walked out of the kitchen, but a Death Eater who she had fought before, during the night of Dumbledore's death. All the color drained from Sara's face as he made eye contact with her.
He froze for a moment, his wand held in his grip, watching her curiously and hungrily and then realization seemed to wash over him as Sara sprinted up the stairs with all she had.
"Don't run, Potter, you have nowhere to hide now!" Yaxley shouted from behind her, his steps loud upon the creaky stairs.
Sara jumped into the drawing room, trying to reach for anything with which she could hit him in the head to make him unconscious, but he was taller and faster and before the ginger could do anything, his wand was trained on her and she had nowhere to run.
"Well, well, well. I've come here in hopes of catching your brother, but you'll certainly be enough to make him come out of hiding, won't you?" his grin was terrifying. "Stupefy!"
And with that, Sara's world turned black.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
surprise?:D