Sirius Black, in his Animagus form, emerged from the cave where he had been hiding and made his way toward Hogsmeade Village. He intended to scavenge for breakfast and perhaps pick up a copy of the *Daily Prophet* to keep abreast of developments in the wizarding world. However, as soon as the sole escapee from Azkaban caught sight of the rising sun, he froze in his tracks: the dawn was a deep crimson.
"Blood has been spilled this night," Sirius thought, observing the unsettling hue of the sun just breaching the horizon. Normally indifferent to such omens, he couldn't shake the conviction that something significant had transpired. A nagging feeling told him that someone he knew well might have died. Moments later, he finally tore his gaze from the burning sky and glanced at the magnificent silhouette of Hogwarts Castle in the distance. "I hope Harry is safe from that rat." Shaking his head, he reassured himself that Peter wouldn't dare make a move with Dumbledore around, ensuring his godson's protection. With this reassuring thought in mind, he set off toward the village in search of food to last him another day.
~/ *** \~
Meanwhile, Hogwarts students began their Sunday morning like any other. Just before nine, Harry and his comrades who were already awake made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Everything seemed typical until the owl post arrived: amidst the usual flurry of birds, one particular owl stood out. It was a majestic eagle owl adorned with Gringotts' crest, carrying a letter in a stark black envelope.
Harry, while still getting accustomed to the intricacies of wizarding society, couldn't recall what the black envelope signified. He nudged Neville to get his attention, nodding toward the Gringotts messenger that circled above the Slytherin table in search of its destined recipient. After a moment of contemplation, Neville replied, "Oh, those are rare. I'm not surprised you don't know what they mean. It's the first time I've seen one myself, but Gran explained it to me before my first year. Gringotts sends black letters to clients aged eleven or older whose family member, or someone bound by a contract, has died recently." A few seconds later, the eagle owl landed gracefully in front of Draconica.
Raised in a pure-blood household, Draconica was well aware of the significance of a black envelope. When the eagle owl deposited its message before her, dread gripped her heart—had something happened to her family? Her father might be distant, but he was still her father. The thought of anything happening to her beloved mother was unbearable. Glancing around the Slytherin table in fear, she was relieved to see that her brother Basilius had received no similar letter. If he was unharmed, then perhaps her own family was safe.
As she carefully opened the letter, Draconica's worst fears were confirmed:
*Dear Miss Malfoy,*
*It is with deep sorrow that we inform you of the death of Frederick Maximilian Gamp, with whom you were under a marriage contract. He was confirmed deceased at 1:45 AM on Sunday, March 27, 1994. Gringotts Bank extends its deepest condolences for your loss.*
*Due to the nature of the marriage contract and the absence of any known surviving members of the Most Noble House of Gamp, the contract is considered null and void from the moment Mr. Gamp's death was officially confirmed.*
*In accordance with the Treaty of 1467, we advise you to contact the Inheritance and Wills Department of Gringotts at your earliest convenience for the private reading of the late Mr. Gamp's will.*
*Sincerely,*
*The Head of the Contract Department, Gringotts Bank,*
*Bendblade III.*
So, her fiancé was gone. Draconica sighed, knowing that he had likely met his end while engaged in some dark and probably illegal activity. Lacking any emotional attachment to Frederick Gamp, she found it hard to mourn him. Sure, she would have to feign grief for the mandated thirteen weeks, but beyond that, she felt little.
What truly concerned her was the broken contract and its implications. Although pure-blood customs protected her from an immediate marriage for the next seven months, what would happen after that? With her reputation tarnished by her fiancé's untimely demise—even though she carried no blame—her bride price would likely diminish, endangering her chances of a favorable match.
Avoiding an unwelcome marriage to a less desirable family was her priority. The taste of freedom and happiness was so close now—perhaps it was a newfound spirit of rebellion emerging, but she couldn't allow her future to be dictated by her father without putting up a fight. Despite feeling helpless at the moment, she had seven months to plot her next move. With a determined shake of her head, she folded the letter neatly and tucked it into her robe pocket, returning to her breakfast.
Draconica's receipt of the black letter didn't escape the notice of her Slytherin peers, though most soon stopped thinking about it once they realized they were not the intended recipients. The Greengrass sisters and Tracey, who were Draconica's friends, chose to observe their friend's reaction rather than immediately consoled her. This prudent choice proved wise, as Draconica showed little sign of distress over the letter—she would receive their condolences, but only out of obligation, as she hardly seemed affected by the event.
Having learned the meaning of the black letter from Neville, Harry resolved to offer Draconica his condolences and support should she need it. After finishing his meal, he exited the Great Hall and waited just outside its grand doors for her. It wasn't long before she emerged, flanked by Daphne, Tracey, and an energetically bouncing Astoria.
"Harry?" Draconica inquired, tilting her head in silent curiosity about his presence. The other girls remained quiet, recognizing that Harry's business was with their friend. Taking a deep breath, Harry struggled to find the right words, and finally opted for something straightforward: "My condolences."
"Thank you, Harry," Draconica replied, her tone polite yet dismissive. It was evident to him that her reaction to the letter offered little need for comfort.
Nodding in a sort of farewell gesture, Harry began his walk back to the Gryffindor Tower, reflecting on Draconica's increasing tendency to call him by his first name in public. Surprisingly, he found he liked it.
~/ *** \~
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was known for his patience—a necessity for someone in his position of power within the magical community. However, unease began to creep over him as he waited for a report from Remus regarding his inquiry into Sirius Black's trail. Late afternoon had come and gone without any word, raising alarm bells in Dumbledore's mind.
While he valued timely and accurate information, it wasn't the delay that concerned him so much as the absence of the report itself. Remus, to his recollection, had never once failed to provide his updates when he had the capability to do so. He hoped that bad weather or a longer recovery from a recent transformation was to blame, yet a darker whisper in his mind stirred, suggesting that events were not as they should be.
The arrival of the black letter earlier in the day—alongside Draconica's stoic reaction—only compounded his worries. To his suspicions, it seemed young Gamp had met an unfortunate fate during a werewolf hunt. Although Dumbledore desperately wanted to believe otherwise, the signs he was seeing pointed toward the worst outcome.
~/ *** \~
The following morning began ominously for Harry as he received a missive from Gringotts' Department of Inheritance and Wills—he was named one of the significant inheritors of some man named Remus Lupin, a name that meant nothing to him. The letter urged that it would be wise for someone he trusted to attend the will reading on his behalf, although he grappled with the notion of being present for a man he had never known.
After deliberation, Harry decided to ask Violet to represent him during the reading. She was far more versed in magical law, and he trusted her to handle any legalities that might arise.
At the professors' table, Albus Dumbledore strained to maintain his genial demeanor, hiding the sorrow that gripped him as his worst fears about Remus had been confirmed. The goblins, as always, were reliable—if they declared someone dead, it meant they were truly gone. While Dumbledore took solace in the knowledge that Remus had fought to make the wizarding world a better place, he couldn't help but wonder how that man's last moments had been. Surely he didn't go peacefully; Dumbledore suspected a curse aimed at him might have manifested during Remus's final breath. Yet, he reminded himself of the weight of his responsibilities—to protect his students from his own grief, as their education was paramount to shaping the next generation.
Seated nearby, Professor Minerva McGonagall grappled with similar sentiments. Although she had always endeavored not to show favoritism, Remus had been one of her favorite students, and the emotional toll weighed heavily on her as she struggled to maintain composure for the students she currently taught.
Severus Snape, too, found his thoughts consumed by Remus's unexpected death. They had never seen eye-to-eye, but Snape nevertheless held a modicum of respect for him. Remus had known when to step back, even if his soft nature had kept him from effectively guiding the other Marauders. Snape reflected on his own life in the wake of this loss—he remained a survivor, a double agent playing a dangerous game. Yet, he pondered whether he should reevaluate the balance he was striking. Surely, Voldemort's presence still loomed somewhere; the war might have ended, but the dark forces remained, lurking just beyond the horizon...
~/ *** \~
Back in his cave, hidden among the mountains encircling Hogsmeade Village, Sirius Black found himself startled by the arrival of an eagle owl. At first, he feared it signaled his capture, but recognizing the Gringotts emblem on the bird, he allowed himself a moment of relief. As long as he adhered to the human-goblin treaties, he remained out of their crosshairs. Still, the reason for the owl's visit was cause for concern. Gritting his teeth, Sirius unsealed the letter and read its contents...
Upon finishing, he crumpled the letter and cast it aside into the darkest corner of the cave. He couldn't reconcile the notion that he was now the last remaining Marauder and that Remus was truly gone. Deep down, he knew the goblins were never mistaken in such matters, but his heart clung to denial. Tears streamed down his face as he grappled with the reality crashing in around him...
The regal eagle owl offered Sirius a final, sympathetic glance before taking flight again, returning to London now that its mission had concluded.