HP: The Duelist of Hogwarts - 450

Chapter 450: Verbal Lashing

Sean frowned down at the letter in his hand.

He had miscalculated.

In his memory, the breakout had happened sometime around the middle of January. With that assumption lodged in the back of his mind, and with everything else demanding his attention lately, he had let the matter slide. He had simply told himself he would go to Azkaban in January and deal with it then.

Instead, barely into the Christmas holidays, a message had arrived from the Order of the Phoenix. It laid out the situation in brief and asked Sean to come to Number 12, Grimmauld Place for a meeting.

“Do you really have to go?” Yadel asked.

Sean nodded. “Dad, do not worry. I will be fine.”

“Do you really have to go?” Yadel asked.

Sean nodded. “Dad, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“Be careful, then,” Martha said. “And if you pass anywhere that sells them, bring me back two cartons of eggs.”

“All right, Mum~~.”

“Don’t call me ‘Mum’ in that tone! I’ll box your ears!”

“It’s been three years, and you’re still putting on the raging‑new‑mum act,” Sean said calmly. “Careful, you don’t scare Caesar.”

“You little brat, are you begging for a beating?”

Sean caught the cushion Martha flung at him and promptly dumped it into Yard’s arms.

Under Yadel’s worried gaze, he smiled and nodded again. “Really, it is all right. I told you before, Dad. Even in the wizarding world, I am right near the top now. You can relax.”

“Just be careful,” Yadel repeated.

“I will.”

Sean left the house and Apparated straight to Grimmauld Place. He stepped into the narrow gap between Numbers 10 and 11 and gave his wand a casual flick. Number 12 Grimmauld Place swelled into existence between them, its soot‑black front and grimy windows appearing in front of him.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Harry and Mrs Weasley were waiting in the hall.

“Harry, Mrs Weasley. Happy Christmas,” Sean said.

He reached into his Undetectable Extension Bag and drew out two enormous turkeys and two bulging bags of food. Molly Weasley’s eyes widened in delight.

“Oh, that is wonderful, dear. We can have a proper roast turkey feast for lunch.”

“I am very much looking forward to it, Mrs Weasley,” Sean replied. “The last time I tasted your cooking, I could not get it out of my head.”

Molly pressed a hand to her mouth, laughing, then whisked everything away to the kitchen with a wave of her wand and set to work.

Sean smiled after her, then walked further in with Harry.

“So, Harry,” he asked, “how does it feel, not having to go to class?”

“I thought it would be great,” Harry said wryly. “But…”

Seeing Harry’s forced smile, Sean could only sigh.

“Harry, I do not want to rub it in, but I did tell you before,” he said quietly. “Those dreams of yours might not be real.”

Harry flushed, shame flickering in his eyes. His mouth opened, then closed again. Whatever he meant to say, he swallowed it.

Sean clapped him on the shoulder. “All right. This is not all on you. Hermione told me what happened. You did not actually do anything wrong. The one who really made the mistake this time is…”

He broke off.

Across the room, in a corner of the dining room, Sirius Black sat hunched like an abandoned stray dog.

The degree to which everyone was ignoring him could be measured by one simple fact: even Remus Lupin could not be bothered to speak to him.

The moment Sirius saw Sean come in with Harry, he flinched.

Right now, the person Sirius feared most in the Order was Dumbledore. Sean Bulstrode came a very close second.

Sean squeezed Harry’s shoulder again, then turned to face Sirius. His expression chilled, his face taking on a cold, detached look that would not have been out of place on Snape.

“Sirius,” he said softly, “once, I thought that having Harry as your godson would at least make you behave like an adult.”

He shook his head.

“But clearly I gave you far too much credit. With goblin‑like arrogance and a brain like a mountain troll’s, you thought it was a good idea to sneak out alone in the middle of the night, drag Harry with you to the Ministry, and go poking Death Eaters to see what fell out, all to investigate that idiot Fudge’s death. Your brilliant little adventure was the finest Christmas present you could possibly have given Voldemort.

“Until then, things were going well. The Order of the Phoenix had Voldemort and his Death Eaters firmly on the back foot. And then you decided to help. Thanks to your handiwork, Voldemort and his followers have turned the tables. Now, Dumbledore and Harry are both wanted criminals. Tell me, Sirius—how does that feel? Is this the result you were hoping for?

“Outwardly, you are a member of the Order. Behind the scenes, you might as well be working for the Death Eaters. At this point, I am seriously wondering if you officially joined them in Azkaban. Otherwise, how is it that you, a grown man and Harry’s godfather, managed to do something so catastrophically stupid that even a first‑year Gryffindor would know better? What exactly is wrong with you?”

“Enough! Sean Bulstrode, that is enough!” Sirius exploded.

He shot to his feet, yanking his wand from his belt and levelling it at Sean.

He never got the chance to raise it.

Sean’s wand was already in his hand. A jet of scarlet light blasted from the tip.

“Expelliarmus.”

Sirius’s wand flew from his fingers and clattered onto the table in front of Sean.

“Useless in a duel on top of everything else,” Sean said coldly. “No brains, no—”

He broke off.

Two hands had closed gently around his arms, settling on his shoulders.

Sean turned his head.

At some point, Dumbledore had come to stand behind him. Harry was at his side, clutching at his sleeve.

“Sean,” Harry said quickly, “Sirius did not mean… He just wanted to help. Just like I did.”

“Sean,” Dumbledore said, “Sirius acted recklessly, yes. But there are deeper issues at work here. And while the Order has been forced to lower its profile, we have also slipped fully into the shadows. We still have room to move. Voldemort and his Death Eaters are far from winning.”

Sean was silent for a moment.

Then he nodded. “All right. I understand.

“Professor Dumbledore, about what I am doing…”

Dumbledore lifted a hand, stopping him.

“Sean,” he said, “you have your plan. I have mine. We can move on two tracks at once. There is no need for you to tell me what you intend. Sometimes, that sort of independence can produce very interesting results.”

“In that case,” Sean said, “I will leave it at that.”

He turned back to Sirius, hesitated, then flicked the man’s wand back to him.

“Sirius,” he said, “we need to talk.”

“If you just want to go on shouting at me, do it here,” Sirius said hoarsely. “I can take it.”

“It is about Harry,” Sean replied. “We should talk.”

Sirius stared at him for a heartbeat, then, still looking uncertain, got to his feet and followed Sean out of the dining room. Together, they climbed to the study on the third floor.