Mortem . Sirius Black

chapter one hundred and twenty-eight

July 10th - Nephera's Home 

It had been about a week since the events of Paris, and the group of five marauders could safely say that they had had enough action to last them an entire month. Despite their efforts to contact Peter, the boy only replied with one-word answers, more so to tell them that he was still alive than anything else. 

Nephera reckoned it was because he himself didn't know what was going on with him. He was probably embarrassed by his reaction, as well as confused so as to why he had reacted that way. The brunette had decided to give the mousy boy some time to figure it out himself before she explained to him why he had reacted the way he had reacted. 

That meant, however, that she could not use the wand, since she'd decided it would be best to keep it away from Peter, at least for the time being. That did not mean, however, that she was happy to have an all-powerful wand laying in the chest under her bed, rotting away. 

She figured it was a waste of power, of opportunity, to not make use of the tenebris wand, her hands itching to cast even the simplest of spells with it. 

Of course, as far as Dumbledore was concerned, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had been sick with the flu while she and James never managed to find their way inside the Chamber of the Lost Sisters. It was unclear whether or not the old wizard suspected something, he probably did, but it was not like he could come outright and say it. 

Not without admitting to everyone in the Order that he had lied about what was inside the chest. 

Once again, Dumbledore had found himself between a rock and a hard place, a situation created by none other than Nephera Winchester herself. 

That was what Sirius thought while a random movie was playing on the television in front of him, the only light in the room given the fact that night had fallen outside, and he did not care enough to open up a light. 

Nephera had fallen asleep with her head on his lap, instructing him to wake her up at midnight, for she had to go meet Nott, her supposed spy. The raven-haired boy did not like the thought of that, not in the least bit, but he knew it was necessary for the ruse to continue to work. 

The Prewetts, Frank Longbottom, and Lily, as well as a hoard of other Order members and Aurors, would be close by to the meeting point, and had been instructed to intervene at the slightest possibility of danger. If it had been up to Sirius, it would've been him and all the marauders that were therIt had been Gideon who had voiced that idea first, fearing that this might be a trap set up by Voldemort, but Nephera had refuted that idea. 

No, the girl knew Voldemort, she knew how he thought, how he operated. He wouldn't kill her as long as he thought she had been caught in his own web of tricks, as long as he thought that he had outsmarted her and she was feeding him information about the Order without realizing. 

Still, she hadn't objected to the extra protection just in case. 

Sirius took a swing out of the whiskey he was nursing in his hand, watching the amber liquid swish around the glass and reflect the light of the television, before he looked at the watch on his wrist. 

11:30

Looking down at the sleeping girl on his lap, he smiled at how peaceful she looked and almost regretted having to wake her up. Her nightmares had gotten better, they no longer plagued her mind and she was able to get a few decent hours of sleep per night. It was not the most ideal of situations, but it was better than what went on before. 

Tapping the rune on his bracelet thrice, moving carefully so as to not wake the sleeping girl, he thought of Regulus's name in his head, 'Are you sure it's not a trap?' he asked, knowing that he did not need to provide any context