ᴅɪsᴘᴇʟ ᴍʏ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅᴏᴍ | ᴍᴀʀᴀᴅᴇᴜʀs' ᴇʀᴀ

Chapter 54: Following The Trail

Blackshire

James was like an angry, cornered animal, but he didn't lose faith. Remus looked no better. They barely slept, they barely talked, and like hounds, they were following the trail.

Diagon Alley didn't give them any clue. Andromeda and Peter returned in torn clothes, in cuts, with bruises, looking like they were in hell.

The seller from the pharmacy seemed to have disappeared from the globe. They never broke into Malfoy Manor, continuing to circle around it and trying to think of a way to get inside without extra noise. None of them was afraid to be discovered. They knew that as soon as Malfoy sensed the danger, he would run away through many secret passages, taking Emily along.

If she ever was there.

Their raids lasted two days, but they inevitably returned to Blackshire where Sirius got hammered just to get up the next morning with black circles under his eyes and another insane plan.

It can't be said their efforts were useless. Several times they repelled attacks of Death Eaters. Several times they even injured them and, apparently, quite seriously. Once they seemed to cross Voldemort himself and barely escaped with a whole skin. But it still could not bring Emily back.

The culmination was the letter that came to Lily Evans early in the morning. When she unwrapped it under the watchful eyes of her friends, her face drawn out of surprise and horror.

Silently, Lily handed the letter in a circle, pointing to the careless, flying handwriting of Narcissa.

"What does the Hunt mean?" Remus asked, absorbing the lines for what seemed like the tenth time. The words in the letter blurred because of how often he rubbed the parchment with the letter "B" in his hands.

"I suppose this is one of the pureblood entertainments," Lily whispered. "We know that it's likely to be held near the Mulciber Manor, but we don't know when."

"Is there such a place near the Mulciber's?" Marlene asked.

"All estates of purebloods are secluded. There is no problem in finding a dense forest to kill people in quietly," Sirius replied in a voice hoarse from cigarettes. "Hunting all woods makes no sense. This is a huge territory. We need to know where to look."

"And who can give us this information?"

"Those who arrange the Hunt. I guess our favorite Slytherins. They always walk together. Nott, Rosier, Avery, Mulciber, Lucius," Sirius grimaced. "Avery is the weakest of all. If we push on him, he'll crack. But if he disappears, it will stir up the community, and they will postpone the Hunt."

"And what do you suggest?"

James's question hung in silence.

Beata was not among them. Sprinkles went to Cavendish's residence, and since then they have received no news from her. If Sirius was worried, it was impossible to say so.

They didn't quarrel. They didn't say "be careful" to each other, they didn't cry, they didn't hold hands like Lily and James every time when Prongs went on another scout. Nothing like that. They looked into each other's eyes. Then Beata cocked her head, and Sirius nodded.

And released her fingers.

The feeling was as if someone had pulled out his kidneys. Sirius did not know what Beata felt at that moment — his head was spinning. He looked after her: on her back in the black leather jacket, strong and beautiful legs in rough grinders and tight leather pants. He looked and for the first time felt what it was like when it's not you who's leaving. And all you have left is stupid blind faith. And nothing more.