"Struggling is pointless!"

With a start, Sirius jerked his neck towards the source of the voice. His head throbbed, but the ache was fainter than the dizziness he had experienced during the failed Apparition. Where was he, and how long had he been out for? A mosaic of memories tugged at his mind— an aggressive unicorn, a dark satchel, and a tower he had climbed in before he had passed out. His mind rushed about his surroundings. Soft candlelight lit the corner. Obscure golden strands stretched around the expanse, looped through the ceiling and staircases, tying him to a chair.

"Is this hair?" He muttered, his eyes floating to the shadows the sound had come from. He looked down at his jacket, unable to feel any magical strength he did with his wand around him. "What did you do to my wand?"

"Who are you?"

"I know not who you are, nor how I came to find you, but may I just say— Hey, how you doing? The name's Sirius Black. Sirius, not Serious, for I am as serious as—"

"What do you want with my hair? To cut it? Sell it?" A girl stepped out of the shadows, a pan in the grip of her long fingers.

He gawked at her momentarily before breaking into a soft chuckle. "Your hair? Listen, blondie, the only thing I want to do with your hair is get out of it! And to find a way out of here—and to give the— wait, where is my satchel? And my wand?"

"I don't know anything about any wand," said the girl, stepping closer. Her green eyes reflected the candlelight in a dangerous gleam of golden. "But your satchel is somewhere you will never find it."

Sirius raised a brow at her. The disdain on his lips morphed into a smirk, and he tilted his head to his left. "It is in that pot, isn't it?"

Darkness engulfed him once again.

The second time he stirred, he noticed the twig-shaped creature on his shoulder, rubbing its tiny twig-like hands. It jabbed one of its sharp arms on his cheek.

Sirius yelled. "Could you stop doing that?" He said indignantly. "What even is that— ah, wait! It's a bowtruckle, ain't it? Professor Grubby Plank liked them quite a lot. Well, blondie—"

"The name's Rapunzel, and—"

"Right then, blondie, listen. I don't care about your veela hair--"

"What hair?"

"You are of veela inheritance, aren't you? How much of a Veela are you? Half? One-fourth? One-eighth?" Sirius went on. "And you are perhaps a part of Voldemort's inner circle, that's why—"

"I'd rather you speak in English, not in this foreign tongue you chose to ramble in!" Rapunzel snapped, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It is English," Sirius nodded, a smirk forming on his lips again. "But I can speak French too, mon amour."

"Alors est-ce que je peux," Amusement danced on Rapunzel's lips.

"You know French too?"

"I live in France."

"Oh." Sirius whispered, bewilderment sprouting through his mind. "So, what is this tower then? A family home or a vacation spot? Or both?"

Rapunzel looked down at him with crossed eyebrows. "I don't know what goes on outside this tower, but I know for a fact that this is France."

"We are in France?" Sirius shouted. "How did you bring me here?"

"If I remember exactly, you climbed in my tower, so might as well ask you the question. How did you find me?"

"By misfortune?" Sirius suggested.

Rapunzel scoffed, "Or to make fortune by selling my hair?"

"For the love of Merlin! Look at me—oh, you already are; I know it is quite hard to keep one's eyes off my handsome self. Now, think. Do I look like a hairdresser to you? Or like a wand-maker? Who am I supposed to sell your hair to? Ollivander doesn't even prefer making wands of veela hair, simply because he thinks they are quite temperamental. Now that I have met you, I can see why he thinks so—"

"Who is Ollivander?"

"You have never heard of Ollivander? Famous wand-maker? Where'd you get your wand from then?" Sirius rambled, "Oh, right, you might have gotten yours from a French wandmaker. Ollivander always said French wands are fragile though. Can I have a look at yours?"

"I don't have a wand, Serious Black. And I have never heard of them, except in tales, of course," stated Rapunzel, pointing a finger at the large bookshelf that framed the east of the room.

"You don't have a wand," Sirius rustled, confusion etched on his sharp features. "I have never heard of a squib with Veela inheritance— doesn't make sense, no."

"Will you stop calling me that?"

"What?"

"A veela."

"What else am I supposed to call you? Blondie? Your royal highness? Dark Lady?"

"The name's Rapunzel," she repeated.

Sirius groaned. "Get me out of this mayhem, will you? I don't have time for your vague riddles and games when the world has a Riddle to deal with. And return my satchel, and my wand if you are hiding it. They are not children's toys. They are of no use to you."

"You want to get out of my hair?" Rapunzel asked, placing her hand on Sirius' shoulder to let her bow-truckle cling to her finger.

Sirius let out a fake cough. "I can repeat myself in French if I was unclear." "You can, but only if you agree to my proposal."

"That's the third proposal I have got this week, and though I find you pretty, I would have to say no. I hope I can find a way to make it up to your broken heart?" Sirius ended with a grin.

"Not a wedding proposal, roi de cons!" Sirius rolled his eyes, tugging at the hair that was pinning him to the chair. If only he had his wand in his pocket, he might as well have performed a wandless spell and untangled himself out of the tresses; most likely by cutting them apart. Would have served the part-veela right, he thought bitterly.

She leapt over to the opposite of the bookshelf. With an elegant wave of her hand, she withdrew the amethyst draperies framing what Sirius thought was the window he had climbed in from.

It wasn't.

An array of yellow and orange lights flashed against a purple wall. "So," Rapunzel turned to face him. "I turn eighteen tomorrow."

"You want a birthday gift? What do the lanterns have to do with all of it?" Sirius interrupted, pulling at the bindings.

"Kind of," replied she. "Every year on my birthday these uh, lanterns light up the night sky and I—  You are going to show me these," Rapunzel breathed.

Sirius stared at the painting for a while, marvelling at the intricate outlines. "No could do, blondie," he said carefully. "For one, I don't know where you can see lanterns in France, or even in Britain for that matter. I have never seen them before myself.

"You haven't?" Disappointment laced Rapunzel's voice.

"I haven't," agreed Sirius. "I don't even know where on Earth I am—"

"Technically, you are in France."

"—and how I ended up here. I have a lot on my plate than ruddy romantic sight-seeings at the moment, so you are going to give me the satchel and tell me how to get out of this place. There's something shady going on here--"

The bowtruckle jabbed his face again.

"Oww!" Sirius tugged at the tresses again, trying to get out of them to rub his stinging cheek.

"This is unfair!" He grumbled dramatically.

"So, will you?" Rapunzel questioned.

Sirius took a deep breath. The only way to get out of the web the damsel had spun was to agree to her terms. And so, even though he didn't know where he was supposed to find his wand, or the sparkling lanterns, he whispered, "Yes."

"They say they spotted Gothel Lestrange in Alsace."

Mars Lavigne took a swig of Elderflower wine, running her free hand through her brown locks.

"They say she was seen in Avignon too, Sati," she replied, taking a smaller sip. "All the rumours are vague. And if she really is responsible for the ruckus at the Ministry, we need to find her."

Sati Patil, who was three inches shorter than Mars, and sported slightly darker hair, let out a snicker at her friend's words.

"You know there are quite a lot of rumours floating around. The latest ones include the infiltration of France by You-Know-Who's inner circle."

"There have been such rumours?" Mars drawled.

 Oh, and did you hear the one which states that Auror Sati Patil may or may not be engaged?" Sati tucked a loose curl behind her ear, flaunting the sapphire ornament that embellished her ring finger.

"Mon dieu!" Mars exclaimed, taking Sati's palm in hers, "It looks lovely on you! Is it from the same Muggle boy you have being seeing for a while now?"

Sati nodded, a gentle red diffusing through her tanned skin. "He is perhaps the only one who feels like home in these dark times."

"Ouch," whined Mars, placing a hand on her heart. "Who am I then?"

"Oh, shut up," said Sati, rolling her eyes. "You are just a dramatic wrench. And Merlin knows what stuff is keeping you this busy! If there wasn't such an emergency, you wouldn't have come to meet me even now!"

Mars sighed, slamming her glass on the counter with a clink. "I know," she said softly, "And yes, I have been dealing with stuff lately, but I promise I am back now. We will be seeing each other more than usual."

"That's perfect then!" Sati exclaimed, standing up. "I hope I'd see you at the Ministry tomorrow?"

"You will," Mars nodded at her as she watched her friend leave. Then she shuffled to the table at her right and hunkered on the unoccupied seat. As her fingers tapped the rugged oakwood of the table, her eyes met cold ones.

"So we finally meet, Regulus Black."