𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 - the wizarding world

XII. INIGO'S PROPHECY

XII. INIGO'S PROPHECY
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Sirius walked through the dingy alleyway, streetlights flickering behind him. The stench of piss and something rotten was almost too much for him to bear. But he trudged on. He had to.

He had talked with the bartender at one of the dodgiest bars in London—he had been pointed in that direction by someone who had said that Inigo frequented that place—but the bartender had told him that Inigo had moved on a while ago. One of the other customers had reluctantly revealed to Sirius that Inigo was planning to spend some time in Dublin. So, that's where Sirius now found himself; in Ireland, at ten o'clock in the evening, with no idea if the oracle was even still here.

Sirius found the address he was looking for; a rusted, broken down steel door with a closed latch. He knocked rapidly thrice, and then twice slowly. The latch opened.

"Business?" a rough voice said.

Sirius gripped his wand tighter; he had no idea what he was walking into. "I'm here to see Inigo. Tell him it's Sirius Black, he'll know me." Well, Sirius hoped Inigo would know him, by reputation at least.

The latch closed again, and he could hear scuffling from inside. Then, a shout, a lot of cursing, and a lot more scuffling.

"Shite," Sirius muttered, running out of the alleyway, towards the front of the dodgy pub. Just like he had expected, a man was stumbling out of the front door, trying to make a break for it. He was clearly drunk, tripping over his own feet. It didn't take much for Sirius to catch up to him.

"Awh, come one, man! Whattayawan?" the man slurred when Sirius grabbed him by the collar, dragging him back into the alleyway.

"You're Inigo?" Sirius didn't mean to come over doubtful, but the man looked up with an offended expression.

"'Scuse ya? Why'd'ya say it like tha'? Yeah, I'm Inigo." Inigo pushed Sirius off him and straightened himself, looking a lot more sober than before. "You the famous Sirius Black, then? Poshboy, more like it."

"Alright," Sirius huffed, pushing his hair back. "D'you know why I'm here?"

"Bloody fuck would I know tha' for? Y'are the one ambushin' me."

"I need you to think back to a prophecy you wrote thirteen years ago—"

"Man, I was a right dosser those days—barely remember anythin'—"

Sirius pushed him back up against the wall, his wand against his chin. "Think a little harder, won't you, oracle?"

"I'm tellin' ya! I don't bloody remember!"

"I'll give you a hint," Sirius said. "It's about Voldemort."

Inigo froze in his spot, blood draining from his face. "What'd ya say tha' name for?"

"Because I need the rest of your fucking prophecy so my fucking niece doesn't fucking die!" Sirius yelled in his face. He stepped back, breathing heavily. Tonight was the third task, and he hated himself for not being able to make. Instead, he was having a useless conversation with a drunkard in an alleyway in Dublin.

"Calm your tits, Black... Bloody 'ell," Inigo muttered. "I think I remember somethin' about a Dark Lord, or whatever ya wanna call 'em. Come on, grab ma arm, I'll take ya to ma gaff—now, I don't usually do tha' kinda thing on a first date, but you're a fine enough thing—"

"Just bloody apparate already."

With a crack, they landed in the middle of a grimy, run-down apartment. There wasn't much there except for a bed, a couch and a table.