Chapter 122: The Secret Passage

Edward sent Dumbledore a written version of the plan that same night. He separated facts from assumptions, listed Sirius's intended movements, and stated the conditions of the Vow exactly. He also admitted what they did not know. Peter's missing toe and Animagus form were strong leads, but neither proved where his loyalties now lay. 

The reply arrived before breakfast. Dumbledore approved observation but rejected the idea that Sirius should roam Hogsmeade without limits. The passage from Hogwarts to the Shrieking Shack remained under school wards, and using it would not make anyone invisible to the castle. Dumbledore could authorize Sirius's dog form as a known presence without revealing his identity to the staff at large, but every crossing had to be arranged in advance. 

Sirius read the letter twice. "He always did know how to say yes in a way that felt like extra homework." 

"He is giving a wanted man access to the edge of a school," Edward said. "Conditions are reasonable." 

"I know. I just reserve the right to complain." 

That glimpse of his old humor pleased Edward more than any declaration of gratitude. Azkaban had not taken everything. He pushed a plate of toast closer and waited until Sirius had eaten before asking about the passage. 

"It runs beneath the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack," Sirius explained. "The school arranged it for Remus so he could endure full moons away from other students. James, Peter, and I discovered where it ended, then learned how to stop the tree long enough to enter." 

"You became Animagi to accompany him." 

Sirius's expression tightened. "Yes. Reckless, illegal, and more dangerous than we admitted. We also kept him from being alone. Both things are true." 

Edward unfolded a rough plan of the Hogwarts grounds. "If Dumbledore authorizes the route, you can remain near the Shack between arranged meetings. You do not enter the village to follow people. You do not approach Ron or Peter without witnesses. If the mirror fails, you withdraw." 

"And Harry?" 

"You may see him in public if chance allows. You cannot engineer an encounter while he believes you betrayed his parents." 

Pain crossed Sirius's face, but he nodded. "I don't want his first clear sight of me to be another lie." 

They spent the morning turning those limits into a simple schedule. Sirius would use the Shack only on dates acknowledged by Dumbledore. Edward would report any sign that Scabbers behaved like a wizard rather than a pet. Dumbledore would choose two adult witnesses before any attempt to seize the rat. Ron's safety came first, since a frightened Peter might use the boy as a shield. 

The evidence plan received its own page. Witnesses had to see the rat become Peter, his wand had to be secured before questioning, and its recent spells had to be examined. Any use of Veritaserum required Ministry authority and a healer's supervision. Sirius's testimony would be recorded separately so no one could claim the witnesses had merely repeated his story. Edward also listed the unresolved weaknesses: they did not know whether Peter carried another wand, whether he had allies inside Hogwarts, or what escape spells he had learned during twelve years in hiding. 

Kreacher listened from beside the sideboard with his arms crossed. "And if the traitor runs?" 

"Sirius follows only if doing so does not abandon a child in danger," Edward said. "I alert Dumbledore. Hogwarts staff seal the exits." 

"Young Master puts much faith in Hogwarts staff." 

"I put specific duties in writing. That is more reliable than faith." 

Sirius looked at the small family mark Kreacher had pressed into the bottom of the plan. "You have changed the House of Black more in one summer than we managed in twenty years." 

"Changing a document is easy. Obeying it when angry will be harder." 

The mention of anger led them back to Peter. Sirius admitted that seeing him might tear through every careful promise. The Vow prevented a planned attack, but magic could not supply judgment. They therefore rehearsed what Sirius would do: name five objects in the room, take three slow breaths, speak through the mirror, and put distance between himself and Peter until witnesses arrived. 

It sounded almost childish. Sirius tried it anyway. 

"Table, window, dreadful wallpaper, your father's chair, Kreacher pretending not to listen," he said. 

"Kreacher is not pretending," the house-elf snapped. 

Sirius laughed. The sound was rusty and brief, but real. 

After lunch, Edward brought out a certified photograph of the broken locket and the approved copy of the relevant passage from Secrets of the Darkest Art. The dangerous original remained under joint adult custody. They already knew what the object had been: a Horcrux containing a separated fragment of Voldemort's soul. What remained unknown was the number of fragments, the objects chosen to hold them, and whether destroying the diary and locket had altered the surviving maker. 

"We cannot let the search for Peter become a distraction from this," Edward said. "But we also cannot treat every old object as a Horcrux and tear Britain apart looking for them." 

"Dumbledore has the memory and contacts for that search," Sirius replied. "You are thirteen. Your part can be noticing what adults overlook, not carrying the whole war." 

Edward disliked the statement because it was true. He closed the copied book. "Then we give Dumbledore everything we have and keep only a record of what we surrendered." 

"Two records," Kreacher said. "Stored separately." 

"Three," Sirius added. "One outside this house, in case someone decides to burn the family archive." 

Kreacher looked offended, then thoughtful. "The traitor has made one sensible suggestion." 

They agreed that Dumbledore would retain the full investigative copy, while the original dangerous text remained sealed at Hogwarts under controlled access. Knowledge of how to make a Horcrux would not be shared with the Flame Serpent Alliance. Its members had joined to study defense and reform, not to inherit every atrocity an ancestor had preserved. 

Near evening, Sirius transformed into the black dog and padded once around the courtyard. He was still too thin. His coat had begun to recover its shine, but a tremor passed through his hind legs after several minutes. Edward ended the exercise before pride could turn it into punishment. 

"No Hogsmeade until you can hold the form without shaking," he said. 

The dog bared its teeth in theatrical outrage, then changed back. "You are alarmingly like McGonagall." 

"I will take that as praise." 

They finished the day by testing the Two-way Mirrors from opposite ends of the house. Stone walls blurred the image but did not break it. Edward wrote down the exact point at which the sound weakened, while Sirius suggested short emergency phrases that could not be mistaken for ordinary conversation. 

By midnight, their plan was less daring than it had been that morning and far more likely to work. The secret passage was no longer a way to evade every safeguard. It was a controlled route, known to Dumbledore, useful only because each person understood its limits. 

Sirius stood at the study window and looked north, toward a castle too distant to see. "I can wait," he said. "I have done enough rushing toward the wrong thing." 

Edward joined him without answering. For the first time, waiting did not feel like helplessness. It felt like preparation.