Mutatrum: Blackheart

4- The Better Spy

Arell was flitting around the room when Blackheart returned, jumping from one perch to another. The small scroll that was attached to his leg banged against everything he landed upon.

"Been like that since he got back," Sirius pointed out as he wandered into the sitting room, munching on something from a tin. "Won't settle down. Two more scrolls just like it came in earlier this week."

Blackheart sighed and sank down onto one of the sofas, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

"You can say no, you know," Sirius said. "Nobody knows who you are, or even where you are."

"But there are so many who need help," Blackheart said.

"There always are," Sirius said. He set his food down on one of the tables and wrestled for control of the scroll from the dark owl. Arell preferred to have Blackheart remove the scrolls, but, if necessary, he would allow Sirius, or even Dobby, to relieve him of his burden.

"Bung him an owl treat," Blackheart said as he lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes. Two weeks in France had worn him down. He felt the constant need to be on the go, doing something, even if he wasn't sure what the end result truly was. He might be helping people, and his Gringotts account might be overflowing with gold, but what was the purpose in it all?

"Get on with it, then," Sirius said, and banished the scrolls to him. "At least read them. Maybe something will interest you."

Blackheart sighed, but fumbled for the first scroll, splitting open the seal. He let his eyes trace over the words and then dropped it to his chest.

"Worthless."

"Must be a good one."

"Nothing I'm doing," Blackheart said. "I don't kill people. Well, I mean...I'm not against it, just not… It would have to be…."

"You have your principles," Sirius said firmly. Blackheart knew he was smirking, could practically feel it from across the room.

With a sigh, he opened the second scroll and peered at the writing there. It was familiar, and the signature was one he knew. The case didn't interest him, in itself, but he'd worked with this client before on several occasions and it had always proved...entertaining."

"Must be a good one."

"Missing person," Blackheart murmured.

"Boring."

"Yes," he said, "But I actually like this client."

"Another witch?" Sirius sat up, his expression changing.

"No, but I still like them anyway."

"With the war on, a simple missing persons case should go to the Aurors. It's a bit...below your paygrade."

"Perhaps," said Blackheart, "but I'm still going to do it." He stood, scanning the letter once more, and prepared to get started on the search.

"Is it anything that Padfoot could assist on?"

"Not this time."

It was the standard answer and Blackheart scolded himself for feeling so guilty. It was really for everyone's good that Sirius stayed hidden away. The Ministry would like nothing more than to recapture him and sentence him to the Dementor's Kiss. And then Blackheart would be all alone again.

"Are you at least going to open the other scroll?"

"It'll keep," he called as he bounded up the stairs and to his room.

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The coffee house was nondescript, unrecognizable from any other small doorway on the street. Blackheart scanned left and right, watching for anything suspicious before entering. The man he was looking for sat at table in the far corner, his back to the wall, eyes on the windows and doorway. He glanced at Blackheart, but his eyes showed no recognition. And they wouldn't. He'd never seen Blackheart before.