After some time, Sirius woke with a sharp gasp and pushed himself upright, breathing hard as his eyes darted around in confusion.
For a brief moment, he seemed unable to understand what he was looking at. Above him were dark branches instead of stone walls, and there were no Dementors, no prison bars, and no freezing cells waiting to greet him.
The only thing surrounding him was the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.
A small light illuminated part of the clearing.
Turning toward it, Sirius found Victor sitting against a thick tree root with his wand raised, the tip glowing from a Lumos charm. Not far away, Harry was asleep beneath a cloak Victor had thrown over him after the Dementor attack.
"You woke up," Victor said, glancing in his direction. "Those Dementors really did a number on you. Then again, after spending years in Azkaban, I suppose your body is more used to them than most people's."
Sirius immediately tried to stand. The attempt lasted all of two seconds before his balance wavered. He caught himself before he could fall, but the weakness left behind by the Dementors was impossible to hide.
"Uh-oh," Victor remarked as he watched him sway slightly. "Sit down. I have something to say first. After that, you can do whatever you want."
Sirius ignored the suggestion and remained on his feet. His eyes narrowed immediately.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
The distrust in his voice was impossible to miss.
Victor couldn't exactly blame him for it. The Malfoy family had spent generations building enemies.
From Sirius's perspective, there was absolutely no reason to trust someone carrying that name—not when the family openly supported blood purity and not when so many of them had associated with Voldemort and his followers.
Victor studied him for a moment before asking a completely different question.
"What exactly can you give me?"
Sirius frowned.
Before he could answer, Victor continued.
"Money?"
The silence answered for him.
"Political influence?"
"A respected reputation?"
Victor's gaze swept over him.
"Definitely not."
A look of annoyance crossed Sirius's face.
Victor remained entirely unimpressed.
"You are currently an escaped convict hiding in the middle of a forest," he said calmly. "So stop overestimating your importance in this conversation. The only reason I'm involved at all is because Harry deserves to know the truth."
The wind rustled through the trees while neither of them spoke for several seconds.
Eventually Victor leaned back against the root behind him and glanced toward the sleeping Harry.
"To be honest, I don't even particularly like your generation."
That caught Sirius completely off guard.
Victor continued before he could respond.
"You and your friends were disasters when you attended Hogwarts. From everything I know, you spent years making Professor Snape's life miserable."
A trace of disgust entered his voice.
"Compared to your lot, even my brother looks well-behaved."
Sirius stared at him.
Victor met his gaze without flinching.
"So don't judge my family as though you and your friends were saints," he said. "My father may be an unpleasant person, but at least he never pretended otherwise. You, James, and Lupin spent years tormenting someone and still expected everyone to see you as heroes."
Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Merlin, you're worse than Snape."
"That's impossible," Victor replied. "Professor Snape is a professor. His job is teaching students, and he does it. You're the one still judging people by school grudges from over a decade ago."
Sirius let out a tired sigh and rubbed his forehead.
"Fine. Believe whatever you want."
Victor accepted that immediately.
"Good. Then I need your help."
The change in subject was abrupt enough to make Sirius suspicious.
"What kind of help?"
Victor glanced toward the sleeping Harry before answering.
"I want every supporter of Voldemort removed."
Sirius stared at him.
"Removed?"
"Dead. Imprisoned. Broken. I don't particularly care which." Victor's tone remained calm. "If Voldemort ever returns, I want him coming back to an empty table. No loyal followers. No hidden network. Nobody waiting to welcome him."
For a moment Sirius wondered whether he had misheard.
"You're serious."
"Completely."
The answer arrived so quickly that it made the conversation worse.
"You're thirteen."
"Technically."
"That wasn't the issue."
Victor looked mildly confused.
Sirius shook his head.
"What is wrong with you?"
"A long list of things," Victor admitted, sounding almost bored. "Stay on topic."
Sirius stared at him in disbelief. "No. Normal children don't sit in forests planning how to get rid of entire groups of people, and if they do, there is something seriously wrong with them."
Victor didn't react to the accusation.
"I want to deal with the problem before it becomes a disaster," he said. "Or would you rather wait for Voldemort to come back? We both know he isn't the kind of wizard who stays dead forever. Sooner or later he'll return."
His gaze shifted toward Harry's sleeping form.
"And when he does, the first thing he'll do is finish what he failed to do thirteen years ago. Harry will be his first target. After that, he'll gather whatever followers remain and start another war."
The words were delivered calmly, without emotion or hesitation, as though he were listing the inevitable consequences of a bad decision.
"I want to prevent that from happening. I want to make sure there is nothing left for him to return to—no network, no supporters, no loyal servants waiting in the shadows."
The forest was silent except for the distant rustling of leaves.
"But I'm still a kid," Victor continued. "There are limits to what I can do right now. That's why I need you."
Sirius opened his mouth to respond, only to find that he had absolutely no idea what to say.
The frightening part wasn't the plan itself.
It was the way Victor spoke about it.
There was no anger in his voice, no desire for revenge, and no satisfaction at the thought of people dying. Most adults hesitated when conversations drifted toward subjects like this. They stumbled over their words, searched for excuses, or tried to convince themselves they were doing the right thing.
Victor did none of those things.
He sounded like someone discussing a practical problem that required a practical solution.
That calm certainty unsettled Sirius far more than hatred ever could.
For several moments he simply watched the boy sitting across from him, illuminated by the faint glow of the wandlight.
"You keep calling yourself a kid," Sirius said eventually, his voice quieter than before. "But that's exactly what's bothering me."
Victor looked up.
Sirius held his gaze for a long moment.
"Because I've met grown men who were less comfortable talking about death than you are, and that's not something I find reassuring."
*****
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