"Bellatrix—I've heard some rumors. She's your relative, isn't she?"
Melvin closed the observation window, turning to Tonks.
In the dimly lit, enclosed space, Tonks scratched her pink hair. "Bellatrix is my aunt, my mother's sister. They grew up under the strict teachings of my grandfather, Cygnus Black III, and grandmother, Druella Black, proud of their pure-blood lineage and name…"
As a young Auror fresh out of training, Tonks lacked seasoned instincts. Distracted by the professor's question, she didn't notice his subtle movements or the fleeting shadow that slipped from his coat pocket.
Tonks sighed. "Later, my mum defied their wishes. Instead of marrying into a pure-blood family, she wed my dad, a Muggle-born wizard. She was disowned by the Blacks and cut off completely."
"Pure-blood families and their foolish, stubborn traditions," Melvin remarked.
"Exactly! They have no idea how great my dad is!"
Tonks huffed indignantly. "Mum proved her choice was right! Bellatrix married Rodolphus, the Lestrange heir, and joined the Death Eaters with him, following You-Know-Who. During the war, she racked up a bloody toll—many Aurors and Hit Wizards fell to her wand, some crippled for life."
Unlike Malfoy's sneaky Death Eater ways, Bellatrix never hid her allegiance or her brutal cruelty. Her notorious tortures of those who opposed the Death Eaters made her infamous.
"When You-Know-Who fell and vanished, she went after the Longbottoms, torturing them for his whereabouts until they lost their minds. She was caught, tried, and sentenced to life in Azkaban, still proclaiming loyalty to him, swearing she'd wait for his return."
Melvin listened quietly, his expression complex.
Bellatrix, among the Death Eaters, shared similarities with old Vinda of the Wizarding Purity Party.
And there was a blood connection. Tonks' grandmother, Druella, was a Rosier before marrying into the Blacks, related to Vinda and Corvus.
With Bellatrix's crimes, she deserved the death penalty a hundred times over, yet she got life imprisonment.
The wizarding justice system was archaic, lacking any respect-for-life philosophy. The Ministry's structure was even cruder, having abolished the death penalty earlier than Muggles—not out of mercy, Melvin suspected, but to keep feeding the Dementors.
Stepping back, Melvin caught a glimpse of Scabbers slipping into the room. Unfazed, he turned and walked deeper inside, asking, "Are the conditions here harsh?"
Tonks recalled the old hag gnawing on moss and shook her head. "There's a kitchen with house-elves providing meals. Not lavish, but sufficient—black bread and mushroom soup, at least. The food's decent enough, but the Dementors' torment kills their appetite.
"Life prisoners are Azkaban's 'valuable assets.' To prevent depression or suicide, they're allowed outdoor time on clear days and given newspapers or books to manage their emotions."
Melvin said nothing, the sense of livestock rearing growing stronger.
As they walked down the corridor, Tonks explaining, Melvin scanned the prisoner nameplates. One caught his eye, and he stepped closer.
Sirius Black
"That's another Black, Bellatrix's cousin," Tonks said, shrugging, her opinion of the family souring further. "A hidden Death Eater spy who betrayed the Potters and brutally killed Peter Pettigrew. Life sentence."
Melvin opened the observation window.
The cell was spacious, likely near the fortress's outer wall, with a small square window. A gaunt, haggard wizard with unkempt hair and a scruffy beard leaned against the wall, a tattered blanket of rags, straw, and cotton across his lap. He stared at the window, eyes vacant and numb, exuding a faint melancholy.
"Did he confess at trial?" Melvin asked.
Tonks sensed something pointed in the question, frowning as she thought. "I don't think so… Things were chaotic then. That batch of prisoners was jailed without trial, right after capture."
It was the day after Voldemort's fall. Wizards were basking in victory, Death Eaters making their last stand, and Britain was in chaos. The Ministry was busy maintaining order and rounding up Death Eaters.
As the Potters' Secret-Keeper, Sirius Black had shown no flaws, trusted by all—until their deaths exposed him as a spy.
No one knew where he'd hidden, assuming he'd flee. No one expected brave Peter Pettigrew to confront him, sacrificing himself to stall the ruthless Death Eater.
They said an entire Muggle street was blown apart, a dozen Muggles killed, Pettigrew reduced to a single finger.
When the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes arrived, Sirius stood silently among the crowd, never speaking again.
"No wonder Dumbledore didn't intervene…" Melvin murmured, his face unreadable as he peered through the window.
The voices outside didn't stir the prisoner. He remained still, leaning against the wall.
Azkaban's security was lax; an Animagus could evade Dementors. Sirius was here willingly, enduring their torment, likely to atone for guilt.
James Potter had chosen him as Secret-Keeper, but Sirius, thinking himself clever, passed the role to Peter Pettigrew.
Who could've guessed the timid rat was a venomous snake, triggering the tragedy?
After the Potters' deaths, Sirius realized the truth, chasing Peter in a rage. But, still foolish, he believed Peter dead without seeing a body, sinking into despair. He didn't fight the false charges, hiding in Azkaban to numb his guilt with physical suffering.
It wasn't until this summer, when The Daily Prophet published Harry and Ron's photo, that Sirius would see Scabbers, realize his mistake, and remember his godson…
This guy's got a screw loose.
Melvin glanced at the prisoner, closed the window, and turned. "It's almost lunchtime. Let's end the tour here. Thanks for the guide, Miss Tonks."
That's it?
Tonks found it abrupt but said polite farewells, leading him to the fireplace.
Melvin took the Floo powder she offered, a faint smile on his face. "This is where we part. Hope your rotation ends soon."
"And I hope your paper gets published soon. If you can, mention me in the acknowledgments."
"Will do."
Melvin smiled, promising.
Green flames flared, and the young professor vanished into the fireplace.