Ch 116 —
"You really deserve it," Malfoy thought as he silently studied Sirius Black.
Years in Azkaban had carved deep lines into Black's face, yet they hadn't destroyed his handsomeness. Instead, they gave him a weathered maturity, the sort that told stories without words. Even the trace of weariness between his brows had turned into something dangerously attractive—exactly the kind of look that would make naïve schoolgirls lose their heads.
He's practically the tragic hero type, Malfoy mused, then immediately banished the ridiculous thought.
Enough nonsense. Time for business.
"Your trap is better than Azkaban's," Black said suddenly, his voice calm and steady. There was no anger, no panic—just cold appraisal. It was the first thing he had said since returning to human form.
"Thank you for the compliment," Malfoy replied lightly.
"I've cut ties with that family," Black continued, eyes fixed on him. "So don't bother treating me as an elder."
"But for what I need from you next, you'll have to admit you're still a member of the Black family," Malfoy answered, shaking his head.
"I have no obligation to help you."
"Shouldn't a respectable elder lend a hand when a junior asks for help?"
"Then that junior should at least show some manners."
"Forgive this rude junior for now," Malfoy said calmly. "I still need to confirm the truth. Until then, you're just an escaped criminal in my eyes."
"The truth?"
Confusion flickered across Black's unshaven face. Then understanding dawned—his Animagus identity was known only to a handful of people.
"Did that rat tell you? Or Lupin?"
His eyes suddenly burned with fierce light.
"You already know the answer, don't you?" Malfoy tapped the cage with his wand.
"Where is Peter?"
Black exploded. Calm vanished in an instant. He seized the iron bars, shaking them violently, his thin face twisted with hatred and remorse.
"Help me kill him. I'll give you anything—even my life!"
"Why would I want your life, respected elder?"
Malfoy watched him without emotion.
"Even with the Dementors gone, I have no desire to see Azkaban. That place isn't meant for normal people."
Black opened his mouth, but Malfoy continued.
"What I want is wealth—more wealth. You're the sole heir of the Black family, aren't you?"
Realization spread across Black's face. He retreated to the corner of the cage and let out a bitter laugh.
"Of course. Just like the rest of them."
His voice was thick with contempt.
"Obsessed with money and power—exactly what I'd expect from a Malfoy."
"My family isn't short of gold," Malfoy replied calmly, waving his wand. "But my father has a fondness for antiques… and for houses with history."
He bent down, meeting Black's gaze.
"For example—Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."
Black laughed again, harsher this time.
"You know more about it than I do, outsider."
Family glory? Could it bring Lily and James back? Could it erase Peter's betrayal?
"Pen and parchment," Malfoy said sharply.
A blank sheet and quill flew from the desk into his hands, then hovered in the air as the quill began writing by itself.
Black watched in silence as lines filled the page.
"You don't mind signing a transfer contract, do you?"
Malfoy caught the parchment and held it out.
"In exchange, I help you."
Black looked at him for a long moment—then, without hesitation, signed his name.
He had no choice. And to him, trading something meaningless for even the smallest chance at revenge was worth it.
"Thank you for your generosity," Malfoy said with a bow, taking the parchment.
Then his tone shifted.
"But have you thought this through?"
Black frowned.
"You escaped Azkaban in a hurry. I doubt inheritance law was on your mind."
Malfoy smiled thinly.
"Your immediate family is gone, correct? If so… there's a simpler solution."
He snapped his fingers.
"If I killed you, who would inherit the Black estate? With no will, it would pass to the nearest eligible line."
His words fell softly, like poison.
"I wasted all this time negotiating when murder would have been easier."
He raised his wand.
"So, respected elder—ready to meet your end?"
Black stared at him expressionlessly. No fear, no pleading—only empty acceptance.
Malfoy sighed.
"Pity. I hoped for a better reaction. It was only a joke."
Silence remained.
"Still, one last piece of advice," Malfoy said quietly.
"Power tastes better than wealth. Possess the former, and the latter follows. Possess only wealth, and it's a castle built on air."
He lifted his wand.
"Sorry, Mr. Black."
A blinding flash erupted from the tip.
Sirius Black collapsed unconscious onto the floor of the cage.