Fanaticism and Betrayal
On the second floor of Sirius Black's house, in an improvised office the Order of the Phoenix had adapted for investigations, the air was thick with frustration. Open scrolls, maps floating with tracking enchantments, and a magical board covered in red threads filled the space.
Tonks had a quill in her mouth and a deep frown as she flipped through dusty documents. Cedric, more focused, stood in front of the board, connecting dots with mechanical patience. It looked like a punishment meant for misbehaving students.
"Sometimes I wonder if Moody actually hates us..." Tonks muttered, taking the quill out of her mouth. "He gives us all the most annoying work while everyone else is out there chasing real leads."
"At least we're not knee-deep in some cursed swamp like Shacklebolt," said Cedric, pinning another marker onto the map. "Although, honestly, I'm not sure which punishment is worse."
Then, without warning, a female voice cut through the room:
"What are you doing?"
Tonks and Cedric jumped and turned quickly. At the door stood Runa, calmly eating an apple, chewing slowly as if nothing were out of place.
"Runa! I told you not to do that. You're going to give me a heart attack!" Tonks groaned, clutching her chest.
"Tsk, tsk... If I were a real assassin, you'd be dead already," Runa said casually.
"You are an assassin," Cedric muttered without looking at her, still drawing lines across the board.
"Aren't your brothers arriving today?" asked Tonks, folding her arms. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for their big welcome?"
"Then you clearly don't know how brothers behave… at least not ones raised in the frozen lands of Skyrim." Runa smiled with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm pretty sure the moment they see me, they'll want to fight. Probably with swords."
"Your brothers actually do that? Fight you for fun?" Tonks asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes. Even Master Einar wasn't spared. They saw him once and attacked him without even saying 'hello'. That was their way of showing respect."
Runa dropped into a chair like it was her personal throne. "So... what are you two doing?"
"Work no one else wants," Tonks replied with a groan. "Moody has this lovely habit of making us go through maps, books, and build timelines. And if we make a single mistake... even a missing accent mark... he makes us start over from scratch."
"Reminds me of my training with Nazir," Runa said, biting into her apple again. "I had to trace a target's daily routine: where they ate, what they ate, what time they slept, who they spoke to, whether they had enemies or powerful friends... Everything mattered. Even if they were cowards, if their best friend was a skilled warrior, the bounty would increase. You had to consider all their allies."
Tonks gave her a dry look. "You do realize you're telling all this to an auror, right?"
"I never killed anyone. I was just trained... in case I ever needed to protect my brothers." Runa shrugged like she was commenting on the weather.
"That's still pretty extreme. Though I always preferred Babette's style. She acted like a ten-year-old girl, and just when you least expected it—bam—she'd strike. Then she'd go back to being an adorable little girl... with blood on her robes."
Cedric blinked. "She acted ten?"
"Babette is a vampire. She always says she's over three hundred, but honestly, she behaves like a spoiled child."
Tonks, still skeptical, returned to the previous point. "Wait... did you say Nazir made you train like that as a routine?"
"Yes, connecting points. I did it so many times it became automatic. Now, when I see someone, I notice who they talk to most, who they like, whether that person likes them back, and how strong their friends are. You never know if you'll have to face the whole group."
Cedric glanced at her sideways. "You're weird."
"And you're boring," Runa shot back with a grin.
Tonks sighed, pushing some papers to the center of the table. "Alright then... let's do it properly. Let's show that paranoid old man we can actually analyze things."
"We have to do it anyway," Cedric grumbled, continuing to jot down notes with clear irritation.
Runa leaned toward the board, tilting her head. "Why are you writing 'fanatic' on every single spot? Literally. Every. One."
"Moody made me redo the whole thing last time because of that," Tonks said, grabbing the eraser with resignation.
"There's just no better word to describe Bellatrix's madness," Cedric defended, rubbing his temples.
Runa shrugged. "Then if she's that much of a fanatic… why are you looking for hidden places? A fanatic doesn't hide what her master gave her. She shows it off."
That sentence froze the room.
Tonks frowned. "Are you talking about her Gringotts vault? Dumbledore already found the cup there. He even fought the goblins to get it."
"That cup? She didn't even know what it was. But the locket… she asked for it specifically. She protected it like a treasure. So her master must have entrusted it to her. And what would a fanatic do with something that holds her master's soul?"
Cedric's eyes widened as the realization hit him.
"She'd display it... Or put it up like a trophy."
Tonks looked at him seriously.
"You mean… Bellatrix, knowing her master's soul was inside that object, placed it somewhere it could be venerated... but also protected, in case it was ever needed to bring him back?"
"A place that fulfills both," Cedric replied, walking toward the maps marked with connections to the Black family. He ran his fingers over one in particular, between red lines and magical annotations.
"What's this place?" he asked, pointing at an old manor southwest of London.
Tonks frowned when she saw the name.
"My foolish grandfather's mansion—Cygnus Black. He disowned my mother when she married my father. He lived there until he died in '92. Then Narcissa—my aunt and last heir—claimed it, but since she moved to the United States after the Dark Lord fell, most of the mansions were put up for sale by Gringotts."
Cedric looked up.
"So that was Bellatrix Lestrange's father's house?"
"Yes. Technically, yes."
"Which means her childhood room… could still be intact," Cedric deduced.
Tonks widened her eyes.
"You think she hid it there? In a place she lived in as a child?"
"If it was a sacred trophy to her… it makes sense."
Cedric was already putting on his jacket and fastening his wand and daggers to his belt.
"Let the others know. But we go first. If that place is connected to Bellatrix, it has to be protected—or worse, watched."
"I'm going with you," said Runa, standing up calmly. "I've got nothing better to do anyway. Besides, if there are magical traps, I might even enjoy myself."
The three of them left the office in a hurry, rushing down the stairs of the old house.
"Hey! I'm making the welcome dinner!" shouted Molly from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a large bubbling pot behind her.
But when she saw the serious faces of Tonks, Cedric, and Runa, she froze.
"What's going on?" she asked firmly.
Tonks quickly handed her several papers.
"Mrs. Molly, alert everyone. We believe the piece might be in the old Cygnus Black mansion. The address is on this map. Tell them to hurry."
Before Molly could reply, Tonks was already stepping into the fireplace.
"Cygnus Black Mansion!" she called out. A flash of green fire swallowed her, and she vanished.
Runa and Cedric followed, leaving behind only a faint scent of ash in the air.
Molly pressed her lips together, smoothed her robe, and rushed to the meeting room.
There, a massive orb floated half a meter off the floor. It measured a full meter in diameter and was etched with magical communication runes.
The orb glowed at the touch of her wand, and dozens of faces began to appear across its surface, layered one atop another: members of the Order scattered across the country, all connected through their own orbs.
"Tonks and Cedric found something!" Molly announced. "Hurry. Here's the address—"
She dictated the location clearly as the others nodded with serious expressions.
But in the middle of all the faces… one caught her attention.
"Ron Weasley!?" she exclaimed sharply. "What are you doing with one of the orbs?"
Ron swallowed on the other end of the connection.
"Sorry, Mum… it's the one Sirius dropped. I haven't returned it yet."
"Turn it off right now! And don't say a word to anyone about this, you hear me?"
"Yes, Mum. Don't worry…" Ron said before disappearing from the connection.
Molly stared at the spot where his face had been, her brow furrowed.
Harry, Hermione, and the others never said anything about Ron being the one who sent the false signal that led them to the Ministry, thinking Sirius was in danger.
He did it out of fear.
To protect his family.
Perhaps, because of old friendship, they let him live with the guilt in silence.
Fred, George, and Ginny kept quiet too. After all, he was their brother.
But maybe…
Maybe they should have doubted him sooner.
Because the Ron walking among them now…
was no longer the same Ron they once knew.
Meanwhile, on the Hogwarts Express...
In a quiet compartment, Harry, Hermione, and Neville were talking in low voices, happy to be going home. Next to them, Lucia had fallen asleep mid-conversation, lying across the seat, lightly drooling while hugging a pillow.
"Keep your voices down," Hermione whispered, smiling fondly at the sight.
Just then, the compartment door slid open.
"Hello, Professor," Hermione greeted when she saw Einar.
"Enjoy the trip. I'll take her to her brothers so you can chat in peace," Einar said, as calm as always.
With smooth movements, he picked up Lucia in his arms. The little one didn't even stir, asleep like a fairytale princess. Her hair fluttered slightly as Einar walked down the corridor.
Hermione watched him for a moment, almost absentmindedly.
Harry noticed.
"What?" she asked when she saw his look.
"You can't be jealous of an eleven-year-old," Harry teased with a restrained laugh.
Hermione softly hit him on the arm as Neville tried not to laugh too loudly.
In the hallway, Einar walked calmly, nodding at the students who recognized him. Most of them greeted him back in silence, seeing the sleeping girl in his arms.
Then he passed a compartment at the far end.
Inside, Ron Weasley sat alone, staring out the window.
Einar glanced at him briefly as he passed. Ron looked up and gave him a calm smile.
A peaceful smile.
But once Einar turned the corner and was out of sight...
Ron lowered his gaze to his hand.
He was holding the magical communication orb.
And his lips curled into a different kind of smile.
A mocking one.
Almost filled with contempt.