You’re trailing behind Sirius as he strides confidently through the dimly lit hallways of Blackthorn Hall, his leather boots echoing against the stone floors. He’s carrying a battered map, muttering to himself as his silver eyes scan the faded parchment. Every so often, he pauses to inspect the walls or poke at an oddly-shaped sconce.

“Admit it,” he says without looking back, a smirk audible in his voice. “You’re having fun.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Oh, yes, absolutely. Wandering around a potentially cursed manor with you is exactly how I imagined spending my evening.”

He spins around, walking backward now, the grin on his face making it impossible to stay annoyed. “Cursed? That’s such an ugly word. I prefer ‘charmingly mysterious.’ And besides, you wouldn’t have come if you didn’t trust me.”

“Trust might be a strong word,” you reply, though the truth is, you do trust him. Maybe too much for your own good.

Sirius laughs, his head thrown back, hair tumbling loose from the knot he’d tied it in. “Fair enough. But trust me on this—there’s something worth finding here. My great-great-grandmother was a lunatic, but she was also a genius. Rumor has it she hid something valuable—something powerful.”

You sigh, watching him turn back around and continue his relentless march. There’s a lightness to his step, an energy that’s contagious. It’s rare to see Sirius like this—genuinely excited about something.