Declared missing. Presumed dead. That was Sirius status in the wizarding world, but the man is very much alive nor missing. He was good at hiding.
Dumbledore wasn't the only wizard capable of casting wards—Sirius had learned to shield himself long ago, ensuring that no one, not even Dumbledore's most loyal followers, could track his movements. He had no doubt that the old man had tried.
Ever since that night, Sirius wouldn't have been surprised if Dumbledore kept tabs on him, watching from the shadows, waiting for a misstep—something that could justify taking action against him. After all, Sirius was a liability.
They must have regretted letting him into the Order. He had been privy to too much—confidential war strategies, secret meetings, classified intelligence—because James had always been open with him. Trusted him. Sometimes, Sirius wondered if Dumbledore had only tolerated his presence because he and James had come as a package deal. After all, the Potters have longed been part of the light faction for generations. He was Dumbledore's poster boy and now probably Charles, the poor kid.
A year had passed since he vanished from the wizarding world, slipping into the anonymity of muggle life. It was easier to hide here, easier to disappear. After all, the people he sought were muggles, and it made sense to look among them among their people.
Twelve long months he had spent searching for Harry and Nathan, yet still, they remained beyond his grasp. And it infuriated him that, in the end, Dumbledore had been right. He would never find them. The man was a hypocrite, but an undeniably powerful one.
Sirius took a slow swig of his pint, his fingers tightening around the glass. He sat hunched behind the bar; thoughts tangled in frustration as he weighed his next move.
"Gin and tonic, please."
The voice came from beside him—smooth, deliberate. Sirius didn't turn, but he caught the accent immediately. Foreign. American, if he had to guess.
"So, found your godson yet?"
Sirius froze, his pint halfway to his lips.
Slowly, he turned to face the stranger. "What?"
A man in muggle attire slid into the seat beside him, his brown hair slightly tousled, hazel eyes gleaming with amusement. He looked older than Sirius—though not by much.
Sirius had never seen him before.
"I'm sorry. Who are you?"
The stranger gave a knowing smile. "Excuse me." He snapped his fingers.
The background shifted. Voices melted into a muted hum—present but unintelligible, swallowed by the spell's strange, selective silence. Sirius raised an eyebrow.
"Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
The man smirked. "It's both. Muggles won't hear what we're discussing, and we won't be distracted by their chatter."
He extended a hand. "Lieutenant Isaac Thornwick."
"Sirius Black," he said, gripping the offered hand and giving it a firm shake.
"I know." The man said. "Your reputation precedes you." Not that Sirius was surprised. Even though the Black family has declined, they are still known around the world but he highly doubts everyone around the world knows what he looks like.
"Also, Lieutenant?" Sirius echoed, scrutinizing him.
"Yes. From the ICW."
"The ICW has Lieutenants?" Sirius asked.
The man shrugged as he took a drink from his glass. "If your part of the Custodians, yes."
The ICW, also known as the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW) is the wizarding world's equivalent of the United Nations. They were tasked with enforcing international magical laws, overseeing trade regulations, managing magical creature policies, and even organizing global events like Quidditch tournaments. Yet, above all, its most crucial responsibility was maintaining the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, the foundation upon which the magical world was safeguarded from Muggle interference.
Within the ICW existed a specialized security council—a force dedicated to upholding magical law and order. They were known as The Custodians.
Unlike Muggle nations, wizarding countries did not maintain formal armies. Instead, they relied on specialized groups for law enforcement and defense. The absence of a centralized military stemmed from deep-seated distrust—a wariness forged through centuries of exploitation and atrocities committed by Muggle armies.
The impact of global conflicts, particularly the World Wars, had only reinforced this stance. Wizards had suffered alongside Muggles, from the horrors of witch burnings to the devastating reach of atomic bombs. Many had come to an alarming realization: while wizards possessed powerful magic, Muggles had developed weapons capable of mass destruction—forces so formidable that even magic had little defense against them.
This growing concern led some within the ICW to question whether a wizarding military was necessary. Yet, any attempt to establish such a force was swiftly shut down—most notably by Albus Dumbledore.
Instead, The Custodians were created.
A compromise.
A force designed not for conquest, but for protection—for ensuring that magical law remained intact, that wizardkind did not fall into chaos.
The Custodians serve as more than enforcers of international magical law.
Beyond their primary role in maintaining order, they also provide humanitarian aid to wizarding nations suffering from poor governance, economic instability, and internal crises. Their duties also to investigating international and war crime and they hold the authority to intervene with force if necessary—but only with explicit permission from local Ministries of Magic.
Voldemort's reign had raised significant concerns within the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW). Haunted by the past influence of Grindelwald. Many believed his unchecked rise to power warranted intervention, and the Custodians had seriously considered stepping in. However, Great Britain, along with several other nations, refused to seek assistance—too blinded by their pride to acknowledge the threat before them.
So, despite the global influence of Voldemort, they never intervened.
"Huh." Sirius took another sip of his drink, brow furrowing in thought. "I forgot about that one."
As the former heir of the Black family, he was well-versed in international relations among wizarding nations. Noble families had long influenced the government in Great Britain, shaping policies behind closed doors. And, as a historian, Sirius had made a point to study such matters extensively.
Top of his class in History of Magic, he'd even surprised his peers—and Dumbledore—by pursuing the subject at N.E.W.T. level, the only student in his year to do so. If he hadn't chosen the life of an Auror, he might have taken a different path altogether—one centered around uncovering the secrets of magical history rather than enforcing the law.
"I just didn't realize that the Custodians followed Muggle military rankings," Sirius remarked.
The man shrugged, the amusement still glinting in his hazel eyes. "Technically, the Custodians do follow a structured hierarchy. Given that we dress like Muggles, it's easier to move between the magical and non-magical worlds when necessary. It keeps us from accidentally slipping wizarding terms into the wrong conversations." He leaned back slightly, a casual confidence in his stance. "Besides, Muggles have grown more 'high-tech'—if you know what I mean."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "That's extremely cautious of you, Lieutenant."
The man chuckled. "Please, call me Isaac."
Sirius set his glass down. "Alright, Isaac. What do the Custodians want with me?"
Isaac leaned back slightly; his grin unwavering. "Well, you worked with Albus Dumbledore."
"Formerly. I formerly worked with Dumbledore," Sirius snapped.
Isaac didn't seem the least bit bothered by Sirius' sharp tone. If anything, his amusement deepened, making Sirius itch to yell at him.
"Well, that's the first time anybody—" Isaac let out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head. "—has reacted like that to hearing Dumbledore's name."
There was a pause.
His amusement only made Sirius' irritation flare. He set his jaw, gripping his glass a little too tightly. "Well, there's a first time for everything."
"Not the first," Isaac said, shaking his head. "But rare. Most people don't openly admit they hated him."
Sirius frowned. "Why are you asking about Dumbledore anyway?"
"Mostly because the ICW has some concerns about him."
"Concerns? He's the Supreme Mugwump, isn't he?"
"He is. But that doesn't mean everyone supports him. Still, he's not the main reason we're here. Just a bonus."
"A bonus? What is this, some Yankee nonsense I'm supposed to understand?"
"Working with Dumbledore made you sharp. But disagreeing with him? That means you're not blind to everything he's done."
Sirius frowned, a flicker of confusion and concern crossing his face. "And what exactly do you want from me?"
Isaac smirked, leaning forward slightly. "How would you like to join the Custodians?"