The Mage of Middle-Earth - CH - 1 (Patreon)

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place was shrouded in shadows. The only light came from a flickering candle on the far end of the long table, casting an eerie glow over the room. Sirius Black sat at the head of the table, his fingers tapping impatiently on the wood, his brow furrowed in thought. His usually roguish demeanor was subdued, replaced by a restlessness that had been growing since Harry’s last letter.

"Voldemort is making moves, Remus," Sirius muttered, his voice low, but tinged with frustration. "We can’t just sit here. There’s something coming, I can feel it."

Remus Lupin, sitting across from Sirius, sighed heavily, running a hand through his greying hair. "We all know it, Sirius, but we have to be cautious. Rushing into anything now could put Harry and everyone else in even greater danger."

Sirius slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the dishes. "I can't stand this! I should be out there, with Harry. I'm stuck here like a caged animal while he’s out there, facing… Merlin knows what."

Grimmauld Place felt like a prison, not only in its cold, decrepit appearance but in how it confined Sirius. He was a man of action, not of waiting. The walls of the ancient Black family home felt like they were closing in on him, trapping him in a legacy of dark magic and secrets, far removed from the son and godfather he so desperately wanted to be for Harry.

"You know Dumbledore thinks it's for the best," Remus said gently, though his tone carried the weariness of years of fighting. "We need you safe, Sirius. Harry needs you alive, not risking everything on a whim."

Sirius pushed his chair back, pacing the floor. "I’m already risking everything by doing nothing."

Before Remus could respond, the heavy door to the kitchen burst open with a loud bang, slamming against the wall. Sirius turned sharply, his wand drawn out of reflex. In the doorway stood Severus Snape, his black robes billowing as though he had swept in on a gust of wind. His pale face was set in a sneer, as if the sight of Grimmauld Place was particularly repulsive to him.

"Sirius," Snape said in his usual drawl, though there was an urgency behind his voice that hadn’t been there before. "I’m not here to exchange pleasantries, so you can lower your wand. We have a problem."

Sirius’s eyes narrowed. "What now, Snape? Come to gloat about something?"

Snape stepped further into the room, his dark eyes glinting with disdain. "Hardly. Potter’s gone and done something incredibly foolish, as per usual. He had a vision. Of you."

Sirius froze. The atmosphere in the room shifted. Remus stood up slowly, his eyes sharpening at Snape’s words. "What do you mean, a vision?"

Snape’s lip curled slightly. "Potter had a dream—no doubt fueled by his connection to the Dark Lord—that you were captured and being tortured in the Ministry of Magic. Naturally, instead of alerting someone, the boy has decided to play hero. He’s taken some of his friends and gone to the Ministry, right into a trap."

For a moment, the silence was deafening. Sirius’s mind raced. Harry—at the Ministry—because he thought Sirius was in danger. His heart clenched at the thought of Harry risking everything for him, but the fear was quickly swallowed by action.

"No," Sirius growled. "I have to go to him."

"You fool!" Snape spat. "Don’t you see? This is exactly what the Dark Lord wants. He’s using the boy’s emotions against him, and now Potter and his friends are walking into Voldemort's hands!"

Sirius, already halfway out of the room, whipped around, his grey eyes blazing. "And I suppose you think I should just sit here and let him die, do you?"

"Potter wouldn’t even be in this mess if you hadn’t filled his head with reckless notions in the first place!" Snape shot back, his voice rising. "Always playing the noble Gryffindor. Always looking for a fight, Black. Your lack of caution will be his downfall!"

Remus stepped between them before things could escalate further. "Enough!" he barked. His voice, rarely raised, startled both of them into silence. "Arguing won’t help Harry. We need to go to the Ministry, now. There’s no time to waste."

Sirius was already grabbing his wand and cloak, throwing a look of pure venom at Snape before storming out of the room. He would not let Harry face Voldemort alone.

The dark halls of the Ministry of Magic seemed to stretch on endlessly as Sirius, Remus, and the other Order members sprinted through the Department of Mysteries. Their footsteps echoed off the walls, mingling with the distant sounds of dueling spells and the cries of Harry and his friends.

Sirius’s heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through him, every nerve on edge. They reached the Hall of Prophecies, the towering shelves filled with glowing orbs casting an eerie light over the chaos. Harry and his friends were already deep in battle, dodging curses and hexes from the Death Eaters who had laid the trap.

Sirius didn’t hesitate. He threw himself into the fight, his wand flashing as he sent stunning spells toward the Death Eaters. His eyes locked on Harry, who was struggling to keep up with the overwhelming numbers.

"Harry!" Sirius shouted, rushing to his godson's side. "We’re getting you out of here!"

Harry looked up at Sirius, relief and determination flashing across his face. "I thought—you were captured—I—"

"No time to explain," Sirius barked, deflecting a curse with a quick flick of his wand. "Stay close to me."

The battle intensified, spells lighting up the hall in rapid succession. Sirius dueled fiercely, moving with the grace and power of a man who had spent years fighting for his life. He caught a glimpse of Bellatrix Lestrange across the room, her wild laughter echoing as she sent hex after hex toward the Order members. Sirius’s blood boiled at the sight of her. His cousin. His enemy.

With a roar of fury, Sirius charged toward Bellatrix, his wand aimed directly at her. She met him with a wicked grin, sending a barrage of curses his way. They fought, locked in a deadly dance of spellfire, their duels echoing with the hatred of years of bitter enmity.

The air in the Department of Mysteries was thick with the acrid scent of magic. Spells clashed in bursts of light and sound, but everything seemed distant to Sirius as he locked eyes with Bellatrix Lestrange across the battlefield. The madness in her eyes reflected his own growing fury. She laughed, her wild cackle echoing off the stone walls, sending chills down his spine.

For the first time since Azkaban, Sirius felt it—the Black madness surging through his veins, a shadow that had always lurked just beneath the surface, restrained only by his iron will. Now, in the heat of battle, it threatened to consume him.

Bellatrix danced around a fallen statue, her wand flicking elegantly as she hurled a jet of green light toward him. "Oh, cousin! Come play, won’t you? You’ve been away far too long!"

Sirius snarled, dodging the killing curse with ease, his own wand flashing as he countered with a curse of his own. "Playtime’s over, Bella. I’ve been itching to shut that mouth of yours."

Bellatrix’s eyes gleamed with dangerous glee as she twirled her wand, deflecting his curse with a sharp motion. "You’ve always been the disappointment, Sirius. The heir to the noble House of Black, yet you fought for the wrong side! You always were too soft."

Sirius gritted his teeth, fury bubbling beneath his calm exterior. "Soft? Is that what you think?"

A flick of his wrist, and a dark, jagged curse erupted from the tip of his wand. The spell cut through the air with a sickening hiss, aimed directly at Bellatrix’s chest. She barely managed to deflect it, but even so, the sheer force of the spell sent her stumbling back.

Blood boiled in Sirius’s veins. Bellatrix had always been like this, taunting, cruel, and utterly mad. But there was something deeper here. Something primal. Something dark. He could feel it rising within him, threatening to take control.

For years, Sirius had fought against the legacy of his family. The Blacks were known for their dark magic, their ruthless ambition, and their madness. Even as a child, Sirius had rejected it, choosing instead to fight for the light. But now, standing in the heat of battle, he felt that same darkness clawing at his mind. Azkaban had changed him. The years in isolation, the cold, the despair—it had left him raw, vulnerable, and angry.

Bellatrix lunged at him, her wand flashing as she sent a Bone-Breaking Curse toward his legs. Sirius sidestepped just in time, feeling the curse graze his robes.

"Don’t pretend you’re better than the rest of us, Sirius," Bellatrix hissed. "You may have run away from the family, but you can’t run away from your blood."

Sirius’s eyes darkened, his face twisted in anger. "I’ve spent my life running away from you. From what we are. But not anymore."

With a savage swipe of his wand, he unleashed a spell that few dared to use, even among dark wizards. "Crusare!"

The curse, known as the Blood-Boiling Curse, was ancient, dangerous, and lethal. It hit Bellatrix squarely in the shoulder. For a brief moment, her face contorted in pain, her skin turning an unnatural shade of red. The curse was designed to literally boil the blood of its victim, burning them from the inside out.

But Bellatrix only laughed through the pain, her voice high and unhinged. "Oh, you’ve learned a few tricks in Azkaban, haven’t you, cousin? How delightful!"

She retaliated with a rapid barrage of spells, her wand a blur of motion. Sirius was forced to go on the defensive, his wand moving with deadly precision as he blocked and countered her attacks. But his mind was slipping. He could feel it. The madness, the darkness that had always been part of him, was taking over. And he wasn’t sure he could stop it.

"I always knew you had it in you, Sirius!" Bellatrix taunted, her eyes gleaming with malice. "The Black madness. It’s in our blood, you know. You can’t escape it. You may pretend to be a hero, but deep down, you’re just like the rest of us. Dark. Twisted. Rotten."

Sirius roared in fury, sending a Bone-Breaking Curse hurtling toward her. The spell cracked through the air, aimed with brutal precision. It struck her leg, and there was a sickening crunch as her bone shattered. Bellatrix let out a scream, but her laughter quickly followed.

"Yes, Sirius!" she shrieked, her voice filled with manic glee. "That’s it! Embrace it! Embrace the darkness! It’s who you really are!"

For a moment, Sirius hesitated. His breathing was ragged, his mind clouded with rage. She was right, wasn’t she? He was a Black. No matter how much he had tried to distance himself from his family, from the dark magic they wielded, it was still part of him. He had been raised in it, trained in it. And now, after all these years, it was calling to him, tempting him with its power.

Bellatrix saw the hesitation and grinned wickedly. "You can feel it, can’t you? The madness. The power. You’ve always had it, Sirius. You just didn’t want to admit it."

Sirius’s grip on his wand tightened. His mind flashed back to his years at Hogwarts, the defiance he had shown his family, the way he had fought against everything they stood for. But Azkaban had changed him. It had stripped away the layers of resistance, leaving him raw and vulnerable. And now, in this moment, with his cousin taunting him, he could feel the darkness creeping in.

"No," Sirius growled, shaking his head as though trying to clear his thoughts. "I won’t be like you, Bellatrix. I won’t become what you are."

Bellatrix’s grin widened. "But you already are, Sirius. You just don’t know it yet."

With a scream of fury, Sirius raised his wand and unleashed a flurry of curses, each one more dangerous and vicious than the last. The spells cut through the air like knives, crackling with dark energy. Bellatrix dodged and deflected, her laughter echoing through the room as she reveled in the chaos.

But Sirius wasn’t holding back anymore. The ferocity in his attacks was palpable. Every curse, every spell was laced with the anger, the pain, and the madness that had been building inside him for years. And as he fought, he could feel himself slipping further and further into that dark place he had always feared.

The Black madness.

For a fleeting moment, Sirius’s world became a blur of rage and magic. He wasn’t fighting for Harry anymore. He wasn’t fighting for the Order or for the light. He was fighting because he needed to. Because the darkness within him demanded it.

Every spell felt like a release, a way to channel the madness that had been simmering beneath the surface. His mind was consumed by the need to destroy, to hurt, to break. Bellatrix’s mocking laughter only fueled the fire inside him, pushing him further into the abyss.

He had escaped the Black madness for years, but now, with the weight of Azkaban pressing down on his soul, it was consuming him. The darkness was no longer something he could run from. It was part of him, and in this moment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight it anymore.

Bellatrix, sensing the shift in him, continued to taunt him, her voice dripping with malice. "You’re just like me, Sirius. You always have been. You can’t escape who you are. A Black. A murderer. A dark wizard."

Sirius let out a guttural roar, his wand flashing as he sent another Bone-Breaking Curse hurtling toward her. It struck her arm, and she howled in pain, but still, she laughed.

"Yes!" she shrieked. "That’s it! Give in, cousin! Give in to the madness!"

Sirius’s heart pounded in his chest. His breathing was ragged. His vision blurred. He was on the edge, teetering between the man he had been and the darkness that had always threatened to claim him.

But in the distance, through the haze of battle, he caught a glimpse of Harry. His godson, fighting valiantly against the Death Eaters. And in that moment, something clicked inside Sirius.

No.

He couldn’t give in. He couldn’t let the madness consume him. Not for Bellatrix. Not for his family. Not for the Black legacy that had haunted him his entire life.

He was Sirius Black. And he would fight for the light, even if it meant battling the darkness within himself.

With a final burst of energy, Sirius raised his wand and sent a powerful Stunning Spell toward Bellatrix. It hit her square in the chest, sending her flying
Sirius stood there, panting, his chest heaving with the effort of the fight. His entire body trembled, not from exhaustion, but from the storm that raged within him. He could still feel it—the darkness, the Black madness, gnawing at the edges of his mind, whispering to him to give in, to unleash everything he had kept buried for so long.

But he had control, for now. The sight of Harry—his godson, his reason for staying sane all these years—had pulled him back from the brink. Harry was fighting too, struggling, just as Sirius had all his life. And Sirius couldn’t fail him now. He couldn’t give in to the legacy of the Black family. He had to be better. He had to win.

Bellatrix, still grinning wickedly despite the pain Sirius had inflicted upon her, staggered to her feet, blood trickling from a cut on her temple. Her dark eyes glittered with malice as she wiped the blood from her face with the back of her hand.

"You think you’ve won, cousin?" she spat, her voice full of venom. "This isn’t over. You might be able to fight the madness for now, but it will take you. It always does."

Sirius glared at her, his wand steady, though his heart was racing. "I’ve spent my whole life fighting it, Bella. And I’ll keep fighting it. Unlike you, I won’t let it consume me."

Bellatrix threw her head back and laughed, the sound high-pitched and chilling. "You’re wrong, Sirius. You always were. You may not wear the Dark Mark, but you’re just as dark as the rest of us. You can’t change what you are!"

Before Sirius could respond, she raised her wand and aimed directly at his chest. "Let’s see if your precious Harry can save you now!"

"Protego!" Sirius shouted, summoning a shield just in time to block her curse. The spell crackled against the invisible barrier, sending sparks flying, but Sirius held firm.

For a moment, they were at a stalemate, their wands pointed at one another, the tension thick in the air. Sirius could feel the sweat trickling down his back, his muscles aching from the intensity of the battle. But he couldn’t stop now. He couldn’t let her win. Not when Harry was watching. Not when this fight was more than just about him.

Then, in the corner of his eye, he saw Harry again, struggling against another Death Eater. His godson was fighting bravely, but he was outmatched, outnumbered. Sirius’s heart lurched in his chest. He had to help him. He couldn’t let Harry face this alone.

In that split second of distraction, Bellatrix saw her opening.

"Expulso!" she screamed, her wand slashing through the air.

The curse hit Sirius square in the chest. He felt the impact before he registered what had happened—a force so strong it sent him flying backward, his body hurtling through the air. Time seemed to slow as he was thrown off his feet, his arms flailing, the world spinning around him.

And then he saw it.

The Veil.

The ancient archway loomed behind him, its ragged curtain fluttering as though caught in an unfelt breeze. Sirius had seen it before, had stood near it many times in the Department of Mysteries. It had always unnerved him, that faint whispering sound, the inexplicable pull toward it.

Now, he was falling toward it. His back collided with the stone floor near the dais, the pain ripping through his spine, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was sliding toward the Veil, the strange, ethereal magic pulling him closer and closer.

He scrambled to find something, anything to hold on to, but there was nothing.

And then, there was Harry.

Sirius’s eyes locked onto his godson as he lay sprawled on the ground, his body hurtling toward death. He could see the panic on Harry’s face, the sheer terror as he realized what was happening.

"No! Sirius!" Harry’s voice was a scream of desperation, cutting through the chaos of battle. His arm was outstretched, as if he could somehow pull Sirius back, as if sheer will alone could defy the magic that was dragging Sirius toward the unknown.

Sirius reached out, too, his fingers stretching toward Harry. His heart twisted painfully in his chest. Harry, the boy he loved like a son, the boy he had sworn to protect. He had been too careless, too consumed by the fight with Bellatrix, too overwhelmed by the darkness in his own soul. And now, Harry was watching him die.

"I’m sorry," Sirius whispered, though he wasn’t sure if Harry could hear him over the roar of battle. He wanted to say more. To tell Harry that he loved him, that he had always been proud of him, that he would do anything to stay by his side. But the words caught in his throat as the Veil’s pull grew stronger.

Sirius’s hand slipped, his body tipping backward, the cold, strange magic wrapping around him like a shroud. The whispers grew louder, voices calling to him from beyond the Veil. He fought against it, but the magic was too strong.

For one final moment, he locked eyes with Harry. The boy’s face was a mask of horror, of helplessness. Sirius wanted to tell him to be strong, to keep fighting, to never give in to the darkness the way he had.

But then, there was nothing.

Sirius fell through the Veil, the curtain swallowing him whole. The last thing he saw was Harry, his godson reaching out, his face twisted in grief and rage.

As he passed through the Veil, Sirius’s mind was oddly calm, as if the pull of the mysterious magic dulled the pain, the fear. There was no longer any sensation of falling—just an overwhelming, eerie quiet. The voices on the other side were soft now, faint whispers he couldn’t quite make out.

The weight of his failure hit him, a deep sadness flooding his chest. He had fought so hard, tried so desperately to protect Harry. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. Azkaban had changed him, drained him. He wasn’t the man he used to be. He had let his family’s madness, the darkness he had always resisted, slip in. And now, Harry was left alone, without the one person who had vowed to always be there for him.

He could still see Harry’s face, etched into his mind, that look of pure devastation.

"I’m sorry, Harry," Sirius thought, as the whispers grew louder, pulling him further away from the world he had known. "I’m so sorry."

And then, everything went dark.