The Black Pendant

July 8, 1993, 8:10 AM, Twelve Grimmauld Place, London

Adam Clarke

I woke to the sound of something crashing downstairs, followed by Sirius’s booming laughter. Groaning, I rolled over and squinted at the small clock on my bedside table. Eight in the morning. Far too early for the amount of noise already echoing through Grimmauld Place.

“Adam! Harry! Breakfast!” Remus’ voice carried up the stairs.

With another groan, I dragged myself out of bed, almost tripping over the half-packed trunk that sat open on my floor. After the events of the past few months— Grindelwald’s escape, the tournament, the battles, destroying the Gaunt Ring and acquiring the Stone of Resurrection— a simple shopping trip to Diagon Alley should have felt mundane. Yet there was something comforting about returning to normal routines, even if my definition of “normal” had changed dramatically since entering the wizarding world.

I pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, then caught my reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes had finally begun to fade. Finally.

“Adam!” Harry’s voice this time, accompanied by a knock on my door. “If you don’t come down soon, Sirius is going to leave without us!”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!” I called back, hastily running a comb through my hair— though I decided I’d wait. Living with this family had taught me that some battles had to be postponed in the name of getting food.

When I finally made it downstairs, I saw that they were already seated. Harry and Remus were already seated at the table. Harry was half-dressed with his hair even more chaotic than usual, waiting for Sirius, who… Well, he was attempting to charm the orange juice to pour itself for Harry, with limited success— though, I had a feeling he was doing it on purpose to mess with the poor boy.

Damn performative diva that you are, Black.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” Sirius grinned as orange juice sloshed over the side of the pitcher, narrowly missing the table. “Ready for our adventure today?”

“I’d be more ready with some food in me.” I replied, sliding into the chair next to Harry, who continued to wait for his juice.

“We’ll be eating later, don’t you worry about that.”

“Anything interesting?” I asked, nodding toward the newspaper.

Harry shook his head. “Just more speculation about Grindelwald’s next move. The Ministry’s still trying to downplay how many people have joined him.”

“Let’s not start the day talking about Grindelwald, shall we? We’re supposed to be having an adventurous outing.” Sirius said, finally abandoning his attempt with the orange juice

“Right you are, Sirius.” Remus said. “A proper Potter-Black-Lupin excursion! We need a catchier name.”

“We’re not calling ourselves anything.” I said firmly, but I could see the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“Team Gryffindor?” Harry suggested with a grin, though that didn’t last long as he realized the weakness of it. “Oh, right, you’re in Ravenclaw, Adam.”

“And proud of it.”

“Bookworm.” Sirius muttered to Harry, and the two snickered.

I couldn’t help smiling. The easy banter between us felt precious after everything we’d been through.

The time passed quickly, interrupting each other with questions about what we needed to buy and debating the best order to visit the shops. Harry wanted to stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies first, of course. After his performance in the tournament, several broom manufacturers had sent him letters of offer to test their prototype brooms, and he was keen to see what was new in the shop.

Likely that he’ll pick the firebolt…

“What about you, Adam?” Remus asked. “Any particular stops you want to make?”

I thought about the list I’d made the night before. “Flourish and Blotts. I want to see if they have any interesting books on Defensive Magic so I can, well…”

I didn’t need to finish the sentence. They all knew my stake in the current matters— well, more like my obsession.

“Books before brooms.” Sirius declared, ruffling my hair as he stood. “But first, we all need to finish getting ready. Harry, do you realize you’re wearing two different shoes?”

Harry looked down in surprise, then shrugged. “No one will notice.”

“I noticed.” Sirius countered.

“You’re not exactly one to talk about fashion, Sirius.” Remus said, gesturing to Sirius’ mismatched socks.

And so began the chaotic scramble of four wizards trying to get ready at once, with one bathroom between us, and a house that seemed determined to hide items the moment we needed them. As I searched for my missing trainers— eventually found under the sofa— I couldn’t help shaking my head in amusement. A little morning chaos with family felt like exactly what I needed.

Just as we were about to head out, Kreacher appeared in the doorway, his ancient face set in its usual scowl. Despite everything we’d been through together, the old House Elf still maintained a certain grumpiness, though I’d noticed it had softened somewhat over the past year.

“Letters have arrived.” He announced, holding up a small stack with his gnarled fingers. “Kreacher was going to bring them earlier, but young masters were making too much noise at breakfast.”

His tone suggested this was a personal affront, though his eyes held a glimmer that might have been amusement.

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Harry said, reaching for the letters.

Kreacher pulled them back slightly.

“Kreacher will distribute them properly.” He insisted with dignity. He shuffled forward, examining the first envelope. “For filthy master dog.”

Remus accepted his letter with a nod. “Thank you, Kreacher.”

The House Elf sniffed, then held up the second envelope.

“For the ungrateful disappointment to the family.” This one bore the official Ministry seal, the deep purple wax catching the light.

“I am glad I ordered him to call us that.” Sirius seemed to get much enjoyment out of the title as he took the letter in hand.

My heart skipped a beat. The Ministry?

Sirius spoke, not even glancing my way. “What do they want now?”

He broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. His eyes scanned the contents quickly, his expression shifting from curiosity to annoyance. After a moment, he let out a derisive snort and tossed the letter onto the side table.

“Bad news?” Harry asked, already pulling on his jacket.

“Hardly news at all.” Sirius replied. “Just the Ministry being the Ministry.”

My curiosity got the better of me. While Sirius was busy arguing with Remus about whether or not we needed umbrellas, I casually reached for the discarded letter.

The Ministry’s letterhead was emblazoned across the top, followed by an official-looking notice. As I read, my eyebrows rose higher. It was a letter of recruitment, offering Sirius a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The language was formal but flattering, mentioning his “commendable actions during recent unrest” and “demonstrated valor in the face of dark forces.”

“They’re trying to recruit you?” I asked, unable to contain my surprise.

Sirius glanced over, not seeming to mind that I’d read his letter.

“Pathetic, isn’t it? After years of thinking I was a mass murderer, now they want me to join their ranks.” He shook his head. “Too little, too late. Besides, can you imagine me sitting in an office all day?”

I couldn’t, not really. Sirius had too much of the rebel in him, even now. The idea of him conforming to Ministry protocols and procedures was almost laughable.

Harry, clearly trying to change the subject, turned to Remus. “What’s your letter about, Professor Lupin?”

Remus smiled at the title.

“Just some requirements for the new term. Books I’ll need to order, classroom preparations…” He folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket. “Nothing terribly exciting, I’m afraid.”

“I think it’s brilliant you’re going to teach.” Harry said honestly and I agreed.

In the original timeline, Remus had been one of the, if not the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher the kids had gotten, and after the debacle with Lockhart— despite his surprising bravery during Grindelwald’s attack— I was relieved to know we’d have a competent professor this year who wasn’t a conniving, memory wiping gloryhound.

“Thank you, Adam.” Remus said, his voice warm. “I must admit, I’m looking forward to it. Though I suspect this year will bring its own challenges, given everything that’s happened.”

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be brilliant, Moony. Just try not to assign them too much homework, alright? You know how miserable that is.”

“I don’t know, Harry would like to get lots of homewo— ow!”

“Care to say that again?”

“No.” I said, smiling. “My point’s been made.”

“I make no promises about the homework.” Remus replied, but he was smiling too.

Kreacher, who had been watching this exchange with his arms crossed, cleared his throat. “If young masters and the smelly dog master are finished with their important correspondence, perhaps they would like to depart? Unless they prefer to remain talking until the shops close?”

His sarcasm was so dry I almost missed it, but Sirius barked a laugh. “Right you are, Kreacher. We’re off. Don’t wait up!”

The old House Elf muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Kreacher never does”, but there was almost a fondness to it now.

With a final check for wands and money pouches, we headed for the fireplace. It was time for a day in Diagon Alley— a normal day, if such a thing was still possible in our world. After everything that had happened, I was more than ready for a bit of normalcy, even if it came with a side of chaos.

We traveled by Floo powder, of course. Despite having done it numerous times now, I still couldn’t claim to enjoy the sensation. Sirius went first, vanishing in a whoosh of emerald flames after clearly announcing “The Leaky Cauldron!” Harry followed, then me, with Remus bringing up the rear.

I tucked my elbows in tight as I spun through the network of wizarding fireplaces, glimpsing flashes of other people’s homes as I whirled past. The dizzying journey seemed to last both an eternity and no time at all before I walked out into the familiar, dim interior of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry, for his part, wasn’t so lucky, judging by how Sirius was holding him by the arm, stopping him from falling flat on his face.

“Still not mastered the art of Floo travel, Harry.” He teased.

“I’d like to see anyone look graceful while being shot through a chimney.” Harry retorted, brushing soot from his clothes as he straightened.

The pub was already bustling despite the relatively early hour. Tom, the old barkeeper, was serving drinks with practiced efficiency, his form moving between tables with surprising speed. The air smelled of bacon, eggs, and that peculiar blend of magical ingredients that seemed to permeate all wizarding establishments— something like herbs, old books, and a hint of something that might have been dragon’s breath.

A moment later, the fireplace flared green again and Remus stepped out, looking far more composed than the rest of us had. He did a quick inspection, nodding when he saw we were all present and accounted for.

“Breakfast first?” He suggested, spotting an empty table near the window. “I think we could all use a proper meal before tackling the shops.”

My stomach growled in agreement. The hasty drinks at home hadn’t been nearly enough.

“I second that motion.” Sirius said, already making his way toward the table.

We settled in, Harry and I on one side of the small wooden table, Sirius and Remus on the other. A waitress I didn’t recognize— far younger than Tom, with a friendly smile— came to take our order. As she walked away, I found myself glancing around the pub, still half-expecting trouble.

The current peace was a fragile one— if there was one at all. If the DMLE was approaching Sirius, then perhaps things really were dire.

Still, today, the Leaky Cauldron seemed to hold only ordinary witches and wizards going about their business.

There was a family in the corner, parents trying to corral three young children who were clearly excited about their upcoming shopping trip. A pair of elderly wizards played chess at another table, their pieces audibly complaining about their moves. Near the bar, a witch in elaborate purple robes was deep in conversation with a wizard whose hat kept changing colors.

“Relax.” Harry murmured, noticing my wandering gaze. “It’s just a normal day.”

I gave him a small smile. “Is there such a thing anymore?”

“There has to be.” He replied simply. “Otherwise, what are we fighting for?”

It was moments like these that reminded me why Harry Potter was who he was— not just because of his history or his scar, but because of his unwavering belief that things could and would get better. After everything he’d been through, he still expected good in the world.

Our food arrived quickly: eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, and a pot of strong tea. As we dug in, the conversation turned to lighter topics— the upcoming Quidditch season, the books I was hoping to find, whether Sirius would ever get around to cleaning out the attic at Grimmauld Place— “It’s on my list, Moony, I swear!”

For a little while, we were just a family having breakfast, not people who’d been forced to endure far too much in life. I was halfway through my second helping of eggs when a voice louder than the general din of the pub boomed from the direction of the bar.

“Mornin’ to yeh, Tom! Busy day ahead, but thought I’d stop in fer a quick bite first!”

We all turned at once, recognizing that distinctive rumble immediately. There was Hagrid, massive as ever, his wild hair and beard perhaps even more untamed than usual. He was leaning against the bar, which seemed to groan slightly under his weight, as he chatted animatedly with Tom.

“Hagrid!” Harry called out, waving to catch the half-giant’s attention.

Hagrid’s beetle-black eyes scanned the room before landing on our table, his face breaking into a broad smile that disappeared somewhere into his beard.

“Well, if it isn’t the Blacks!” He boomed, making his way toward us. The other patrons instinctively shifted their chairs to make room for him, some eyeing him with a mixture of awe and wariness. “An’ Remus too! Erm— Perfessor Remus!”

He reached our table in a few giant strides, clapping Harry on the back with enough force to make him choke on his food.

“All right there, Harry?” Hagrid asked, apparently oblivious to Harry’s watering eyes as he nodded weakly.

“Hello, Hagrid.” I said, grinning up at him.

“Adam!” Hagrid beamed at me. “Good ter see yeh lookin’ so well! Much better.”

I felt my cheeks warm slightly. During one particularly bad night after the battle, I’d gone to Hagrid’s hut, unable to sleep and desperate for someone who might understand my jumbled thoughts about everything that was happening. He’d made me rock cakes and tea, then listened without judgment as I talked through my concerns.

“Thank you.” I said. “The time to focus and think has been invaluable.”

Hagrid nodded sagely. “Yes, take the time t’ really und’rstand things, I always say.”

“Join us, Hagrid.” Remus offered, gesturing to an empty chair that looked comically small for Hagrid’s frame.

“Don’ mind if I do.” Hagrid replied, squeezing himself into the space and signaling to the waitress, who approached with a slightly nervous smile. “Just a plate o’ whatever they’re havin’, an’ a large mug o’ tea, if yeh please.”

With Hagrid at the table, we suddenly seemed like a much more conspicuous group. His presence changed the dynamic entirely— not just because of his size, but because of the sheer life force he exuded. Hagrid had always been larger than life in more ways than one, with his booming laugh and boundless enthusiasm for even the most dangerous creatures.

I still remembered how he’d reacted when I told him about making a deal with Aragog. Instead of disbelief or concern, his eyes had lit up with pure delight.

“Knew yeh had a special way with creatures!” He’d declared proudly, as if I’d fulfilled some potential he’d always seen in me.

Now, as he settled in with us at the Leaky Cauldron, that same warmth radiated from him. Despite everything— Grindelwald’s rise, the battles, the uncertainty that still hung over the wizarding world— Hagrid remained steadfastly himself. There was something incredibly reassuring about that.

“So what brings yeh all ter Diagon Alley today?” Hagrid asked, accepting a mug of tea that looked like a teacup in his enormous hands. “School shoppin’ already?”

“Just general shopping.” Sirius replied. “Thought we could use a day out.”

Hagrid nodded, his expression sobering momentarily.

“Been a rough time, no doubt about it. But yeh all handled yerselves brilliantly. Specially you two.” He added, looking between Harry and me. “Fighting dark wizards at yer age.”

“I had help.” Harry was quick to say.

“I did, too.” I added, giving him a wan smile. “From everyone.”

“That’s what makes a great wizard.” Hagrid said seriously. “Knowin’ when ter ask fer help an’ who ter ask. Not everyone has the sense ter see that.”

His food arrived then, a plate piled significantly higher than ours had been. As he dug in with gusto, I caught Harry’s eye across the table. I gave him a small nod, and Harry gave a small smile. He turned to Hagrid, curiosity shining in his eyes.

“What brings you to Diagon Alley today, Hagrid?” Harry asked, pushing his now-empty plate aside.

Hagrid finished chewing a massive bite of sausage before answering.

“Flesh-eatin’ slug repellent.” He replied. “The cabbages in the school gardens are gettin’ decimated. Need somethin’ stronger than what I’ve been usin’.”

Harry paused for a moment, utterly baffled.

“If they’re flesh-eating slugs.” Harry asked, and the look on his face was almost comical. “Why are they eating cabbages? Shouldn’t they be going after… well, flesh?”

I shook my head, remembering having asked the exact same question a year ago.

Hagrid’s laugh boomed through the pub, causing several nearby patrons to jump. “Yer right to ask! They’re omnivorous, see. Prefer meat if they can get it, but they’ll settle fer vegetable matter too. Clever little blighters.”

The admiration in his voice was unmistakable. Only Hagrid could find something to respect about garden pests that most wizards would simply exterminate without a second thought.

“Are they dangerous?” Harry asked, more curious than concerned.

“Only if yeh fall asleep in the cabbage patch.” Hagrid replied cheerfully. “But they could give yeh a nasty bite if yer not careful. Their saliva’s got a mild numbin’ agent in it, so yeh might not even notice ’til they’ve eaten a fair bit.”

Sirius grimaced. “And on that appetizing note…”

“Oh!” Hagrid suddenly exclaimed, turning to Remus. “Nearly forgot to congratulate yeh properly! Professor Lupin comin’ to Hogwarts— great news!”

Remus smiled, looking both pleased and slightly embarrassed by Hagrid’s enthusiasm. “Thank you, Hagrid. I’m looking forward to it, though I expect things will be… different than from my own days.”

“Different, ‘course. The students need someone who knows what they’re talkin’ about, especially now.” He leaned in conspiratorially, though his whisper was still probably audible several tables away. “Between you an’ me, I’m hopin’ to make some changes meself this year.”

“What kind of changes?” I asked, immediately interested.

Hagrid’s eyes twinkled. “Well, Professor Kettleburn’s been talkin’ about retirin’ for years. Think he’s finally serious about it. Dumbledore hinted— just hinted, mind you— that I might be considered fer the Care of Magical Creatures position.”

“Hagrid, that’s brilliant!” Harry exclaimed.

“You’d be perfect for it.” I added sincerely. The hours I’d spent with Hagrid learning about Thestrals, Hippogriffs, and even Acromantulas had taught me more than any textbook could have.

“Yeh really think so?” Hagrid asked, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

“Absolutely.” Sirius chimed in. “Who knows more about magical creatures than you?”

“I’ve learned so much from you already.” I said. “About Absol, about the creatures in the forest… You taught me how to approach them with respect instead of fear.”

Hagrid’s cheeks reddened above his beard. “Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? Most wizards are too quick to label creatures ‘dangerous’ without tryin’ to understand ’em. If I could teach the students a bit o’ that…”

“You absolutely should.” Remus said firmly. “Hogwarts would be lucky to have you as a professor, Hagrid.”

Hagrid beamed at us all, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Means a lot, comin’ from all of yeh. Especially you, Professor Lupin. Yeh were always one o’ the best at the school.”

We spent the rest of breakfast discussing what kinds of creatures Hagrid might introduce to his classes, if he were to get the teaching position— “Start small, Hagrid.” Remus advised gently. “Perhaps not acromantulas in the first lesson”— Hagrid’s enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself getting excited about returning to Hogwarts despite everything that had happened there.

Finally, with plates cleared and tea drunk, it was time to head our separate ways. Hagrid drained the last of his tea and stood, making the floorboards creak beneath him.

“Best be off to get that slug repellent before it gets any later.” He said. “Got a new shipment o’ bowtruckles comin’ this afternoon too.”

“We should get to our shopping as well.” Remus agreed, signaling to Tom for the bill.

“Flourish and Blotts first?” I suggested hopefully.

“Then Quality Quidditch Supplies.” Harry added quickly.

Sirius laughed. “We’ll fit it all in, don’t worry.”

We all stood, and Hagrid gave Harry and me each a bone-crushing hug before shaking hands with Sirius and Remus.

“See yeh at Hogwarts in a few weeks.” He said cheerfully. “An’ if either of yeh want to visit before term starts, yer always welcome at me hut. Absol too.”

“Thanks, Hagrid.” I said, genuinely touched. “I might take you up on that. I want to make sure Absol has been doing well, of late.”

I didn’t really need to, of course— I’d only ridden her less than a week before this, so I knew she was perfectly fine, but it would always be nice to see her again.

“She’s doin’ well.” Hagrid said. “Last I saw, she was happy among her herd, though a little down— misses you, lik’ly. Still, maybe I’ll see you at Hogwarts early, eh?”

With a final wave and nod, Hagrid headed for the door, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the frame. We watched him go, his massive form disappearing into the crowded street outside.

“Shall we?” Sirius asked, gesturing toward the brick wall that concealed the entrance to Diagon Alley.

As Remus tapped the specific bricks with his wand, I felt a flutter of anticipation. The bricks rearranged themselves, opening to reveal the winding, colorful street beyond. Shops glittered with magical displays, witches and wizards bustled about with packages, and the air hummed with that distinctive blend of magic and commerce that was uniquely Diagon Alley.

“Ready?” Harry asked, glancing at me with a grin.

I stepped through the archway into Diagon Alley, the familiar hum of magic washing over me as the bricks sealed shut behind us. The street buzzed with life— witches haggling over cauldrons, owls hooting from perched cages, and shop windows flashing with enchanted displays.

Sirius strode ahead, his grin wide as he scanned the storefronts. “Right, where to, first?” He asked, voice brimming with that reckless energy I’d come to associate with him. “There’s a new place selling charmed gadgets I’ve been dying to poke around in.”

Remus adjusted his robe, looking more composed than the rest of us after the Floo trip.

“I’ll leave you lot to it.” He said. “I need to pick up some supplies for magical creatures at Beastly Baubles. Hogwarts prep waits for no one.”

He gave Harry and I a small smile— probably knowing how much I’d have loved to tag along— before disappearing into the crowd.

Harry nudged me as we trailed Sirius.

“Not much I need today beyond Quidditch.” He said, hands in his pockets. “Just here to look around. You?”

I hesitated, then admitted. “I don’t really need it, but… I’ve been thinking about getting one of those multi-compartment chests. You know, for my books and stuff. They’re piling up at home.”

Sirius overheard and spun around, clapping me on the shoulder.

“A chest, eh? Good call— very practical. There’s a shop past Gringotts that’s got those. We’ll swing by later.” His eyes glinted with a sudden idea. “But first, I need to check my vault. Been a while, and who knows what’s moldering in there?”

“Gringotts it is, then.” Harry said, smirking at Sirius’s enthusiasm.

I nodded, falling into step beside them as we wove through the bustling street. Sirius led the way, his long strides cutting a path toward the bank’s marble towers, and I couldn’t help but feel a quiet thrill. A normal day— well, as normal as it got for us— was exactly what I’d needed.

We reached Gringotts faster than I’d expected, its white marble façade towering over Diagon Alley like a stern sentinel. The double doors loomed ahead, flanked by Goblins in crisp uniforms who eyed us with their usual mix of disdain and indifference. I’d never quite gotten used to the place— its grandeur felt cold, almost oppressive, a far cry from the cozy chaos of Diagon.

Sirius marched straight up to the nearest counter, leaning against it with a grin that dared the Goblin clerk to challenge him.

“Morning! Need to pop down to the Black family vault.” He said, tossing his key onto the polished stone. “Been a while since I’ve rummaged through the old junk pile.”

The Goblin— hook-nosed, with fingers like knotted twigs— peered at the key, then at Sirius, his thin lips curling slightly.

“Very well, Mr. Black.” He rasped, voice dripping with something that wasn’t quite respectful. “Follow me. Try not to touch anything you shouldn’t.”

Sirius winked at me and Harry as we trailed behind.

“They love me here.” He muttered, loud enough for the Goblin to hear. I stifled a laugh, catching Harry’s amused glance.

They don’t like any wizard, it seems. I thought, but kept it to myself. Their barely concealed hate of wizardkind was nothing new. Goblins wanted to reign supreme as wizards did, but we kept them at bay.

I shook these thoughts away as we were led to a rickety cart waiting at the tunnel’s edge, its wheels creaking ominously. I climbed in after Harry, my stomach already twisting at the thought of the ride. Sirius plopped down last, sprawling like he owned the place, while the Goblin took the front. With a lurch, we shot downward, the damp air rushing past as torches flickered in the dark.

Sirius whooped, his voice echoing off the stone walls, while Harry gripped the edge, grinning despite himself. I clung to the side, half-convinced I’d tumble into the abyss if I let go, though still enjoying myself. The cart rattled and swayed, clattering over tracks that twisted deeper into the earth. I caught glimpses of other vaults— iron doors, glowing runes— before the speed blurred them into streaks.

As we barreled along, Harry leaned close, his voice cutting through the wind.

“Hey, Adam.” He said, nodding toward the darkness ahead. “Last time I was in Sirius’ vault, I saw something— a flame symbol, like one I spotted before. Remember?”

My curiosity spiked, sharp and sudden.

“A flame symbol?” I asked, straining to hear over the cart’s clanking. “Oh, yes; the sketches! In his vault? Sirius’?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, now we have to find it.”

Before he could answer, the cart screeched to a halt, jolting us against the seats. We’d arrived— Sirius’s vault door loomed ahead, heavy and ancient, its surface glinting in the torchlight. I exchanged a look with Harry, my pulse quickening. Whatever that symbol was, I had a feeling we were about to find out.

The vault door groaned open as Sirius twisted the key, revealing a cavernous space that seemed to swallow the torchlight whole. I stepped inside after him, my boots scuffing against a floor dusted with centuries of neglect. The air hit me first— thick with the musty scent of old parchment, tarnished metal, and something faintly bitter, like dried potions gone stale.

Piles of Galleons glittered in uneven stacks, their golden edges catching the dim glow, while shelves sagged under the weight of oddities: a cracked crystal orb, a silver goblet etched with serpents, a velvet pouch that twitched faintly as if something inside still lived. Cobwebs draped the corners like tattered curtains, and I half-expected Kreacher to pop out, muttering about the mess.

Sirius wandered toward a heap of tarnished candelabras, kicking at them with a snort.

“Bloody useless junk.” He grumbled, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

“My family always did love their gaudy trinkets— probably thought this lot made them look important.” He picked up a chalice, turning it over with a grimace before tossing it back into the pile with a dull clang. “Wonder if there’s anything worth using to hold my toothbrush in here.”

I barely heard him, my eyes roving over the vault’s chaotic splendor. It was overwhelming— less a treasure trove and more a mausoleum of forgotten things. Harry nudged me, his expression sharp with purpose, and tilted his head toward a shadowed alcove near the back.

“Over here.” He whispered, slipping past a teetering stack of leather-bound ledgers. I followed, my heart thumping louder than it should’ve, curiosity pulling me like a thread.

The corner was darker, the torchlight barely reaching it, and the air felt cooler, heavier. Dust motes danced in the faint beams as Harry crouched beside a low shelf cluttered with small boxes and faded velvet bags. He brushed aside a layer of grime, revealing a pendant— no bigger than a Sickle, but striking in its strangeness. It was bronze, weathered to a dull sheen and utterly unremarkable, save for my gut instinct telling me that there was something truly off about it.

I knelt beside him, my breath catching as I examined it with my white eye. The pendant didn’t just sit there— energy hummed across its surface, a vibration I felt in my fingertips before I even touched it. When I did, brushing the edge with a hesitant finger, a prickling sensation raced up my arm. I yanked my hand back, startled, and met Harry’s eyes.

“That’s it.” He said, voice low but certain. “The flame symbol— I see it clear as day. I didn’t think much of it then, but…”

I didn’t see it, but I knew one thing.

“It’s got some kind of power.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t explain it, as I didn’t. The pendant seemed alive, its energy coiling beneath the surface, waiting. For what, I couldn’t guess.

Harry nodded, his scar faintly visible in the dimness.

Sirius’ voice cut through the vault’s stillness.

“Oi, what’re you two huddled over back there?” He called, his boots thudding against the stone as he ambled over. The clatter of a dropped candlestick echoed behind him, followed by a muttered curse about “bloody heirlooms.”

Harry glanced at me, then pulled the pendant from its spot, holding it up so the torchlight caught its bronze surface. The subtle pulse of power still thrumming faintly— I could feel it even from a step away, a tingling that prickled my skin like frost on glass. Sirius squinted at it, leaning closer, his dark hair falling into his face. For a moment, I thought he might sense it too, that he’d catch the same strange pull Harry and I had.

Instead, he snorted, a sharp, derisive sound that bounced off the vault’s walls.

“That old thing?” He said, plucking it from Harry’s hand with two fingers, like it was something distasteful he’d found under the sofa. He turned it over, the chain dangling and glinting faintly, then let out a bark of a laugh. “Belonged to my great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black. Miserable git— ran Hogwarts back in the day, all pomp and sneers. He thought this was the ugliest piece of junk he’d ever seen. Only kept it in here so he wouldn’t offend whichever batty aunt or cousin foisted it on him. Couldn’t just chuck it, you see— family pride and all that rot.”

He handed it back to Harry with a smirk, brushing his hands on his robes as if wiping off the memory of it. “Gaudy, isn’t it? Looks like something Kreacher’d polish to death out of spite. Keep it if you want, Harry— better you than me.”

I blinked, caught off guard by how easily he dismissed it. That hum, that energy I’d felt— it wasn’t just my imagination, was it? I glanced at Harry, who tucked the pendant away, his expression unreadable but his fingers lingering on his pocket. Sirius didn’t know— or didn’t care— and that gnawed at me. Phineas might’ve hated it, but this wasn’t some tacky trinket. It meant something. I could still feel its echo in my bones, a whisper of magic that didn’t match Sirius’s shrug.

“Right, let’s get out of this dust trap.” Sirius said, already turning toward the vault door. “Gringotts gives me the creeps after too long.”

He waved us over, the key jangling in his hand, and the heavy door creaked shut behind us with a thud that rattled my teeth. The cart ride back was a blur— clattering tracks, cold air whipping past— but my mind stayed on that pendant, its mystery growing sharper with every jolt, even as Diagon Alley waited above.

We stumbled out of Gringotts’ cool shadows back into Diagon Alley’s warm bustle, the sun glinting off cobblestones and shop windows. The air smelled of fresh ink, roasted chestnuts from a nearby cart, and that faint, electric tang of magic that clung to everything here. Sirius stretched his arms with a groan, shaking off the vault’s dust like a dog after a bath.

“Right, chest-hunting time.” He declared, clapping me on the shoulder. “Promised you we’d get to it, didn’t I?”

I nodded, grateful he’d remembered. The pendant still nagged at me— its hum a quiet itch in my mind— but the day’s normalcy felt too good to let it take over. We wove through the crowd, past witches haggling over cauldron sets and a gaggle of kids pressing their noses to Quality Quidditch Supplies’ window. Sirius led us beyond Gringotts to a narrow shop squeezed between a florist spilling with fluttering blooms and a dusty apothecary. The sign above read Trunk & Tickle’s Enchanted Storage, its letters curling like vines.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of polished wood and old leather, shelves groaning under stacks of trunks, chests, and satchels that whispered or creaked as we passed. A brass-bound suitcase snapped its lid at Harry, who dodged with a laugh, while a velvet-lined box hummed a faint lullaby. I ran my fingers along a sleek oak chest, its surface warm and smooth, etched with runes that glowed faintly when I pressed them.

“This one.” I said, popping it open. Drawers unfolded like an accordion— some deep enough for books, others shallow for quills or vials— and a charm lightened its weight to a feather’s touch. Perfect for my growing pile of research notes and collection of books.

“Turning into a pack rat, eh?” Harry teased, leaning against a trunk that growled softly. “Next you’ll be lugging Hogwarts around.”

“Better than losing everything under my bed.” I shot back, grinning.

Sirius haggled with the shopkeeper— a wiry man with spectacles perched on his nose— tossing in a few extra Galleons for a charmed lock that sang when tampered with.

“Can’t be too careful.” He said, winking at me. We left with the chest in tow, my arms full but light, and paused in the street, the day’s warmth settling over us.

“Quidditch shop next?” Harry suggested, eyeing the broom displays down the lane.

“Or Butterbeers.” Sirius countered, rubbing his stomach. “Vault-diving’s thirsty work.”

I hesitated, the pendant’s weight in Harry’s pocket tugging at my thoughts.

“Quidditch, and then Butterbeer.” Harry decided, craving the simplicity of it. I nodded; the boy had earned that much, at least.

And so it was that we spent the next hour going through the Quidditch store, with Harry walking out, a wrapped Firebolt in pocket and a wide smile on his face. We didn’t head straight home after shopping— our stomachs had other plans.

The Leaky Cauldron welcomed us back with its familiar din: clinking tankards, the low murmur of witches and wizards, and the crackle of a fire that seemed to burn no matter the season.

I felt my mouth water again as we claimed a table near the bar, where Remus was already seated, greeting us with a nod and a smile.

“Got what you needed?”

“I believe so. Food?”

“Food.”

With that out of the way, Sirius flagged down the young waitress from earlier, ordering shepherd’s pie for us all, with treacle tart to follow because, as he put it. “A day out deserves a proper finish.”

The food came fast— steaming plates of pie, rich with gravy and tender beef, and a golden tart that glistened with syrup. We ate mostly in comfortable silence, though Sirius couldn’t resist joking about Harry’s two-shoe fiasco from that morning, earning a mock glare. I savored every bite, the warmth settling into me after hours of wandering Diagon Alley. My new chest sat by my feet, its oak finish catching the firelight, and I couldn’t help smiling at how normal it all felt— lunch with family, no dark wizards in sight.

Remus wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back, his expression shifting to something more serious.

“I hate to cut this short.” He said. “but I’ve still got to get to Hogwarts. Meeting with Dumbledore— probably about my duties this term.”

He paused, glancing at us. “Might be some talk of Ilvermorny, too— coordinating with them if they stay in Britain. With everything going on…”

He trailed off, but I knew he meant Grindelwald.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Sounds thrilling, Moony. Don’t let him bore you to death.”

Remus chuckled, standing.

“I’ll manage.” He ruffled Harry’s hair— earning a groan— clapped Sirius on the shoulder, and turned to me with a quiet nod. “Take care, Adam. I will see you all later.”

I nodded back, feeling a pang as he stepped to the fireplace, tossed in Floo powder, and vanished in a whoosh of green flame.

Huh. I thought. Had I grown that fond of the man?

“Guess that’s our cue.” Sirius said, stretching. “Homeward bound, lads.”

We gathered our things and followed suit into the Floo, the Leaky Cauldron fading as Grimmauld Place’s grim walls spun into view. Lunch had been a good pause, but Remus’s words lingered, a reminder that normalcy was still fragile.

The fireplace spat us out into Twelve Grimmauld Place’s parlor, soot clinging to my robes as I stumbled onto the rug. I brushed myself off, clutching my new chest, its oak surface still warm from the Leaky Cauldron’s firelight. Harry shook ash from his hair, grinning despite the mess, while Sirius emerged last, coughing dramatically.

“Home sweet home.” He said, dumping his bag of odds and ends— some charmed gizmo and a bottle of Ogden’s— onto a rickety table. He yawned, stretching so wide his joints popped. “Think I’ll catch a kip. You two behave, yeah?”

With a lazy wave, he trudged upstairs, leaving the echo of his boots behind.

Harry caught my eye, tilting his head toward the stairs.

“C’mon.” He said, voice low, like he’d been waiting for this. I followed him up to his room, my chest tucked under one arm, anticipation prickling my skin. His door creaked open to a familiar chaos: Quidditch posters peeling at the edges, a broomstick propped in the corner, books and parchment strewn across the bed. A faded Gryffindor scarf hung over the chair, and the window let in a sliver of gray London light.

He shut the door, then fished the pendant from his pocket, holding it up between us.

I frowned. “…Are you sure you picked up the right pendant?”

“Yeah.” Harry said, though he looked just as confused as I felt.

“Well that’s not what we took…”

And it was not: black as midnight, with the House of Black coat of arms etched into its face. A shield gleamed faintly, studded with three silver stars, the motto Toujours Pur curling beneath in sharp script. Harry traced a spot near the center.

“There’s the flame.” He said, squinting. “This is the same locket. It must have… transfigured itself?”

I leaned closer, but where he saw the flame, I saw something else— a pulsing knot of power, dark and restless, swirling like ink in water. It wasn’t just a symbol; it felt alive, pressing against my senses the way Absol’s presence did in the forest. My throat tightened.

“I still don’t see the flame.” I admitted. “But there’s… something else in it. Magic, I think. Strong. It feels like the same pendant. Maybe it self-transfigured after we came into the Black ancestral home?”

Harry’s brows lifted, surprised but not doubting me.

“Yeah?” He turned it over, inspecting the smooth back. “That does sound like something a Black would do, doesn’t it?”

“Can you open it?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I needed to know— needed to see if that power would spill out or stay caged.

Harry nodded, gripping it tighter. “Let’s find out.”

Harry gripped the pendant tighter, his knuckles whitening as he pressed his thumbs along its edges, searching for a seam.

“C’mon…” He muttered, twisting it in frustration. I watched, my breath shallow, the knot of power inside it coiling tighter in my mind’s eye— like a snake waking up.

He tapped it with his wand, whispering “Alohomora“, but the black disc stayed stubbornly shut, its surface glinting mockingly in the dim light of his room. I opened my mouth to say it wasn’t working when I felt it— a shift, sharp and sudden. The power twisted, tightening into a pinpoint, then pulsed outward, warmer, heavier.

Before I could speak, the pendant jerked in Harry’s hand, yanking downward and slightly left with a force that made him stumble.

“Whoa!” He yelped, clutching it as it tugged again, insistent. My heart slammed against my ribs, and I stared at him, wide-eyed. “Did you— ?”

“Yeah.” He said, voice shaky but edged with excitement. “It’s… pulling.”

We locked eyes, the air between us crackling with the same unspoken question: What now?

“Should we tell Sirius?” I wondered, glancing toward the door, half-expecting him to barge in, nap forgotten.

Harry hesitated, then shook his head. “He’d just laugh it off— call it more Black junk. Let’s see where it goes.”

His grin was reckless, the kind that all children seemed to have. I swallowed, my curiosity outweighing the flicker of caution, and nodded.

I could handle it; if I could destroy a Horcrux, then I could deal with this, too.

“All right; let’s go.”

We crept out of his room, the pendant leading like a dowsing rod, its pull steady and unyielding. Grimmauld Place felt alive around us— floorboards groaned underfoot,sconces flickered as we passed, and the air grew colder the lower we went. Down the main stairs, past the shrouded portrait of Walburga Black, through the kitchen, until we reached the basement/training area.

The pendant pointed left, straight at a nondescript wall— gray, chipped, nothing special. I stepped closer, Harry beside me, and the tugging grew frantic, vibrating in his grip. Then the wall moved. A ripple spread across it, like water disturbed by a stone, and plaster dust sifted down as an indentation formed— shallow at first, then deepening, shaping itself into a perfect match for the pendant’s outline, coat of arms and all. My breath caught, a chill racing up my spine.

Harry didn’t hesitate. He pressed the pendant into the slot, and it clicked, fitting like a key. The wall shuddered, a low grinding filling the air as stone parted, revealing a dark stairway plunging down into blackness. Dust swirled in the faint light, and the air from below smelled old— earthy, metallic, ancient. I stared into it, heart pounding, the pendant’s power still echoing in my chest.

Harry turned to me, his wand already in hand, eyes bright with the thrill of it. 

What is this?” He whispered.

I shook my head, words failing me. The day had been so ordinary— lunch, shopping, home— and now this. New knowledge never seen before in the original story— a secret carved into Grimmauld Place, waiting for us. I gripped my own wand, the wood familiar and steadying.

“Only one way to find out.” I said, a deep excitement in my voice, though I quickly tried to temper it with caution. There was not much success.

“Maybe Kreacher knows something?” Harry suggested, and I stopped, nodding at his suggestions.

“Yes, good idea.” I said, my voice echoing slightly. Harry nodded, and I called out. “Kreacher!”

The word bounced off the walls, sharp in the silence.

A soft pop sounded behind us, and there he was.

“Young masters making noise again.” He grumbled, his gravelly voice laced with irritation. “Kreacher was polishing the silver— what— “

His bulbous eyes landed on the stairway, and he stopped mid-sentence, mouth dropping open. For once, the scowl vanished, replaced by a look of pure shock, his ears twitching like a startled cat’s.

“Have you seen this stairway before?” Harry asked, stepping aside so Kreacher could get a better look.

Kreacher shuffled closer, peering down into the black.

“No.” He croaked, shaking his head slowly. “Never. No Black ever spoke of such a place— not Mistress Walburga, not Master Regulus…”

His voice faltered, and he glanced at the pendant, still nestled in the wall. “Kreacher knows nothing of this.”

The admission seemed to rattle him, a loyal servant blindsided by his own house.

I exchanged a look with Harry— his jaw tight, eyes gleaming with resolve. “We’re going down.” He said, and I nodded, gripping my wand tighter. Kreacher muttered something I couldn’t quite hear, but didn’t protest, hovering behind us like a begrudging shadow.

The added protection soothed me, however little I thought Kreacher would be of help if something dangerous was down there. I supposed he could teleport us out immediately, if necessary.

I took the first step, the stone cold and slick beneath my shoe, and Harry followed, his wand tip glowing with a soft Lumos. I raised mine too, expecting shadows and threats— spiders, curses, anything after the Forbidden Forest— but then the stairway came alive. Purple flames flared along the walls, bursting from unseen torches with a crackle like snapping twigs. The light was cool, unearthly, casting long shadows that danced across the rough-hewn steps. It wasn’t fire as most knew it— too steady, too strange, its hue shifting between violet and indigo.

“Blimey.” Harry breathed, pausing to stare. I couldn’t blame him; it was beautiful, in a haunting way, like magic distilled into flame.

“This is Gubraithian Fire. Rows of Gubraithian Fire torches.” I breathed out in awe. “Whoever made this place is a genius beyond most geniuses.”

The stairs spiraled down, each turn revealing more purple glow, the air growing thicker, tinged with that old, metallic scent. My pulse thrummed, half-expecting a trap, but the light felt… welcoming, almost protective. Whatever waited below, it wasn’t hiding anymore. We descended together— two wands and a reluctant House Elf— into the unknown heart of Grimmauld Place.

The stairway leveled out, and my feet hit solid ground, the purple flames’ glow spilling into a chamber so vast it stole my breath. I stopped, wand still raised, its Lumos unnecessary now— the torches bathed everything in that strange, violet light, sharp enough to pick out every detail yet soft against the stone.

Harry stepped up beside me, his gasp echoing faintly, while Kreacher shuffled in last, his muttering silenced by the sight.

Treasure glittered everywhere— piles of gold coins spilled across the floor, some stamped with crests I didn’t recognize, others dulled by age. Jeweled goblets teetered in stacks, their gems winking like trapped stars, and a silver chest gaped open, spilling chains and rings that gleamed despite the dust.

Along the walls, shelves towered to the arched ceiling, groaning under leather-bound books— spines cracked, titles faded into illegible gold scrawl, some pulsing faintly as if alive. I itched to touch them, to see if they held magic lore or something darker, but my eyes snagged on the center: a wide, empty space, its stone floor worn smooth, scuffed in patterns that hinted at long-gone footsteps. No furniture, no markings— just a void that felt deliberate, expectant.

“What is this place?” I said aloud, my voice small in the cavernous room. A vault? A library? A ritual chamber? The treasure screamed wealth, the books knowledge, but that empty stretch— it unsettled me, like a stage waiting for its players.

Harry turned in a slow circle, wand lowered, his scar catching the purple light.

“Dunno.” He murmured. “But it’s been here a while. Look at the dust.” He nudged a coin with his shoe, sending it skittering across the floor.

Kreacher edged closer to the shelves, his gnarled hands hovering but not touching.

“Kreacher never knew.” He rasped, almost to himself. “Mistress would’ve bragged of such riches…”

I glanced back at the stairway, the pendant still lodged in its slot above, its power quiet now, spent. Whatever it had unlocked, this was it— a secret the Blacks had buried, maybe forgotten.

“It’s more than riches.” I said, half-guessing. “It’s… something else.”

But what? The question hung there, unanswered.

Always more questions… I thought, though this time it made me smile. Damn it, this is great!