Grimmauld Place.
Lucien and Sirius Black suddenly appeared before a row of old terraced houses. They stood outside Number 11, facing a building that looked no different from its neighbors.
Strangely, Number 10 stood to the left and Number 13 to the right, as though the architect had forgotten Number 12 when designing the street.
Sirius looked at the row of houses and sighed helplessly. "Do we have to come here first?"
Lucien's gaze moved between Numbers 11 and 13. "First, I need to confirm that what I want is inside this house. Then we can discuss the rest."
Sirius fell silent for a moment, his gray eyes glinting beneath his tangled hair. When he spoke, his voice was still hoarse. "So, have you seen a future where I catch Peter?"
Lucien did not look at him. He studied the houses with interest instead, trying to make out the magic behind their design.
"When the time comes, you'll know."
Sirius gave a resigned snort. Prophets had always been cryptic, it seemed. He made an odd gesture, crossing his fingers as though tying an intricate knot, then recited a spell a little awkwardly.
He had not cast it in years. When he left this house, he had never imagined he would return.
As the final syllable fell, a new house grew out of thin air between Numbers 11 and 13.
Bricks seemed to condense from the air and fit themselves together, one by one. Windows appeared in the walls, and a door took shape.
From outside, the house looked filthy and neglected. Its windows were caked with years of grime, making it impossible to see inside.
They approached the front door. It was painted black and covered in scratches, with a silver handle shaped like a coiled serpent. Two dark green