The Loyal House of Greye

Chapter Five

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a pale, silvery light over the dense forest as Christopher Greye moved silently through the underbrush, his wand drawn and senses sharp. Around him, the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig marked the presence of the other Aurors under his command. They were spread out, sweeping through the area with focused precision, but Christopher knew they wouldn't find what they were looking for—not tonight, not ever.

Beside him, Kingsley Shacklebolt moved with the same deliberate, practiced ease, his tall, imposing figure blending into the shadows. Every now and then, Kingsley would glance at Christopher, a subtle, knowing look passing between them. They had been working together for years, and they understood each other well enough to communicate without words. Tonight, that understanding was more crucial than ever.

They were supposed to be leading a hunt—a relentless, all-encompassing search for Sirius Black, the man everyone still believed was a dangerous fugitive, a murderer, the one responsible for betraying James and Lily Potter. But Christopher and Kingsley knew the truth, and that truth had changed everything.

Christopher's thoughts drifted as he pushed aside a low-hanging branch, his wand casting a faint, bluish light over the ground ahead. It had been Remus, and then Dumbledore, who had explained everything—how Sirius had been framed, how Peter Pettigrew was the real traitor, still alive and skulking in the form of a rat. Christopher could hardly believe it at first, but the evidence was undeniable. After all these years, after all the hatred and betrayal, the truth had been right there, hiding in plain sight.

A pang of sadness washed over him as he thought back to his days at Hogwarts, when things had been simpler. He had been part of their group, part of the Marauders. Not as a prankster like James and Sirius, but as someone who admired their unbreakable bond. Christopher had always been close with Remus, and over time, he had grown to consider James, Sirius, and Peter as brothers. They had been inseparable—sharing laughs, adventures, and secrets that seemed like they would last forever.

But that was before everything fell apart. Before Voldemort, before the Order, before the war that took everything and twisted it into something unrecognizable. The night James and Lily died, the night Sirius was taken away in chains... those memories were still as vivid as if they had happened yesterday. Christopher had mourned them, mourned the friendship that had been shattered. But now, after all these years, he realized he had been mourning a lie.

He glanced over at Kingsley, who caught his eye and gave a barely perceptible nod. They both knew this was a wild goose chase, but they had to make it look convincing. The Ministry was breathing down their necks, and they had to play their part—had to make it seem like they were doing everything in their power to catch the supposed fugitive. But deep down, Christopher hoped that wherever Sirius was, he was free, even if just for a little while longer.

Kingsley's deep, steady voice cut through the quiet. "We'll check the east perimeter next," he said, loud enough for the other Aurors to hear. "Keep your eyes sharp. If Black is out there, we need to be ready."

Christopher nodded, playing along. "He won't slip past us," he replied, his tone firm. "But keep it tight. We can't afford any mistakes."

The other Aurors moved to obey, splitting off into smaller groups as they continued their search. As they drifted further away, leaving Christopher and Kingsley alone for a moment, Kingsley leaned in slightly, his voice low. "We'll keep them occupied here for another hour, then report back to the Ministry," he said, his tone calm but resolute. "If Sirius is smart, he's already miles away."

Christopher allowed himself a small, weary smile. "He's always been good at slipping out of tight spots," he murmured. "It's... kind of his thing."

Kingsley chuckled softly, a sound that seemed oddly out of place in the dark, tense forest. "Yeah. Let's hope that hasn't changed."