Chapter 16: Shadows Before Halloween

POV: Arcturus Black

Arcturus Regulus Black sat alone in the dim light of the Slytherin common room, his face illuminated by the flickering green flames in the hearth.

His fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against the armrest of his chair as he stared into the fire, thoughts racing faster than he could keep track.

Halloween was only days away, and with it came the haunting certainty that the Chamber of Secrets would soon be opened. It wasn't just a hunch; it was a pattern he had pieced together from old Hogwarts rumors and the timeline described in the books he had once read in another life.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The shadows cast by the flickering fire seemed to dance mockingly around him.

His great-grandmother, Eliana Black, was close to death. The thought sent a pang of both guilt and dread through him.

He had been planning for months to ensure the family's future, to secure Alya Black's release, and now time was slipping through his fingers like sand.

Pulling out a piece of parchment, Arcturus dipped his quill into the ink and began to write.

Dear Mr. Tonks,

I trust this letter finds you well. I am writing to request your assistance with a matter of utmost importance. As you are aware, Alya Black has been wrongfully imprisoned for over a decade. While public opinion may still lean against her, I believe there are avenues to challenge her conviction—or at the very least, secure her transfer to a less hostile environment.

Time is of the essence. My great-grandmother's health has declined sharply, and she is unlikely to recover. Her passing will leave a void in the Black family's leadership, and ensuring Alya's freedom would provide stability and solace during these difficult times.

Please let me know how I may assist in expediting this process. Your discretion in this matter is, of course, appreciated.

Sincerely, Arcturus Regulus Black

He read over the letter twice, making minor adjustments before sealing it with the Black family crest.

It would need to be delivered discreetly, but he trusted that Ted Tonks would understand the urgency and gravity of the situation.

Folding the letter carefully, he placed it in his bag and stood, pacing the room as he considered his next move.

Securing Alya Black's release was only one part of his plan. The other involved unmasking Petra Pettigrew—a task fraught with danger. He had read about her cunning and ruthlessness in both lives.

Pettigrew may have been seen as weak compared to other Death Eaters, but she had survived in Voldemort's inner circle for years, mastered Animagus transformation, and orchestrated events that led to her survival while others perished.

Arcturus would need to approach her carefully. One misstep, and he'd be dead before he could even think to raise his wand.

The next morning, Arcturus found himself seated at breakfast, surrounded by the chatter of his housemates. The tension he carried must have been visible because Astoria Greengrass slid into the seat beside him, her gaze sharp and questioning.

"You're brooding again," she said, her tone light but her eyes probing.

He glanced at her, unsure of how much to reveal. "Just… thinking."

"You're always thinking," she replied, smirking. "What's eating at you this time?"

"Family matters," he said evasively. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Astoria's smile faded, replaced by a look of genuine concern. "You know, you don't always have to handle everything alone. It's okay to… share the burden, sometimes."

He shook his head. "This isn't something I can share."

"Suit yourself," she said, leaning back. "But don't forget, Arcturus, you're not the only one who cares about what happens to you."

Her words lingered in his mind long after their conversation ended.

Later that day, Arcturus slipped into the library, seeking solitude and answers.

He navigated the towering shelves until he found a secluded corner with tomes on advanced defensive magic.

Pulling a heavy book from the shelf, he flipped through its pages, searching for spells that might give him an edge against Pettigrew.

As he read, he heard the sound of soft voices nearby. Turning, he saw Cho Chang and a group of younger Ravenclaws seated at a nearby table, their heads bent over an animated discussion.

They seemed to be debating the merits of various dueling techniques, their laughter ringing softly through the quiet space.

"Damian was saying that move works better in close quarters," Cho said, pointing to a diagram in one of their books.

"Only if you're quick enough to block the counter," another student argued.

Arcturus couldn't help but listen in, the camaraderie and ease of their conversation stirring an odd pang of envy. He'd never been one for large groups or casual friendships; his responsibilities and secrets kept him at arm's length from most people.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Aurora Malfoy standing a few meters away, her gaze fixed on someone.

She wasn't reading or pretending to browse the shelves; she was simply watching, her expression unreadable. For a moment, their eyes met, and she quickly looked away, retreating behind a row of books.

He frowned, dismissing the interaction as nothing more than coincidence. Aurora Malfoy had no reason to take an interest in him—or so he thought.

By the time Arcturus returned to the common room that evening, his plan was beginning to take shape. He would need to lure Pettigrew out into the open, perhaps by exploiting her paranoia. If he could use her fear of discovery against her, he might stand a chance of capturing her without risking a direct confrontation.

Sitting by the Black family tapestry, he traced the embroidered threads with his fingers, his mind heavy with the weight of his responsibilities.

Eliana's impending death, Alya's imprisonment, the threat of the Basilisk, and the shadow of Pettigrew all loomed over him.

Yet, despite it all, he felt a spark of determination.

He needed to free Alya (female Sirius) to give his great grandmother peace of mind before her passing.

He would protect his family. He would unmask Pettigrew. And he would survive.

As he climbed into bed that night, a whispering hiss echoed faintly in his ears. He froze, straining to hear, but the sound faded as quickly as it had come.

Lying awake in the darkness, he knew one thing for certain: time was running out.