Disclaimer: All belongs to JKR. Song that inspired the fic is 'Pyres of Varanasi'. Check it out, by Thirty Seconds to Mars, it's Siriusly awesome (heh heh). Enjoy…
A flurry of movement and a flash of silver followed by a red fountain of blood. Sirius pulled his sword from the fallen soldier and turned to see James still fiddling with the chains across the entrance to the holding facility. Sirius turned back to the deserted courtyard, lifting his blade in anticipation, fingers tightening on the grip as sweat trickled down his wrists.
"Anytime now, man." He called over his shoulder. James made a distracted grunting noise and continued to work on the locks. Sirius' head snapped around when he heard footsteps thumping through the gravel, hissing when the movement pulled painfully on the shallow laceration on his chest. He muttered a curse under his breath as he watched no less than five more chain mailed men thunder around the corner. With a shout over his shoulder for James to hurry his work, Sirius charged forwards with a hoarse battle cry, blade lifting to attack.
Ducking under the sword of the first soldier, the raven haired rebel swept his own weapon out with one hand, slicing through the backs of the second's knees. The wounded man crumpled to the ground with a pained cry as Sirius spun on his heel with the momentum of his strike, sword spinning on the palm of his hand, ready for the attack by the first man. A thrust, always faster than a swing of a two handed sword, was all that was needed to cut the soldier open and have him at Sirius' feet.
Head lifting, he realised the three remaining men had him surrounded. With a practised eye, he saw two closing in to deliver what they hoped would be the final blow as the third hung back, waiting to attack when he was unable to defend himself. In a situation where most would panic, Sirius dropped and swept a leg under the feet of one man to trip him. His sword swept up next and then down, thrusting into the fallen man's chest to silence his shouts. The blade ripped from between the mail and spun in his hand. Without taking his eyes from the last soldier, Sirius plunged the blade backwards and into the both of the other's legs, tearing through muscle and flesh.
The last man let a pleased smile curl his lips as his comrade fell with a piercing scream. They both knew Sirius had no time to defend himself from a killing blow. James, creeping up silently behind the soldier, was too far away to come to his aid in time. He bowed his head, not ready for his end – not when the rescue mission had not yet been successful – but not willing to go out without honour and pride.
But the blow never came. Sirius lifted his head in time to see his would-be assailant stumbling backwards, his cries of pain coming out as a disturbing gurgle, the arrow head lodged in his throat disallowing him to express his agony and anger. Both Sirius and James turned and looked up to see a red head and a longbow crouched atop the seized battlements. The men both lifted a grateful hand to the female archer and went back to their tasks – but before they could go very far, the sight of more soldiers stopped them in their tracks
At least one hundred men stood in formation in the courtyard behind the prison camp, their leader stood before them holding a chain in his hand that was attached to a metal collar around the neck of— Sirius crouched in position to strike or defend, sharp grey eyes fixed on the unconscious face of their captured comrade, red hot fury shooting through him, tensing his muscles and clenching his jaw.
"How disappointing." The man clutching Remus' chain tutted with a sigh. He lifted mocking eyes to meet Sirius', "Losing, Sirius? You showed much more promise as a child."
"Hand him over, Riddle." Sirius snarled, eyes fixed on the tall man clad in a simple black cloak. The lack of mail to match his men showed a level of confidence he was all too eager to take down a notch. Riddle laughed, the low sound sending a shiver rippling through his followers.
"Come," the wraithlike man smiled threateningly, spreading his arms, "Take him. End me."
Sirius ground his teeth at the laughing suggestion from Riddle and started forwards at a brisk march. James' call from behind him and Lily's shout from the battlements did nothing to stop him. The only thing he heard was the rattling of the chains as the grinning man pulled harder, ripping a pained grunt from Remus' unconscious state. The soldiers raised their weapons, on guard, but their master lifted an imperious hand and they stood down. Once he was in front of the man, Sirius lifted his sword so the blade glinted between their faces in the moonlight and the flickering sconces. Riddle lifted his chin and Sirius snarled.
The snarl morphed into a cry filled with rage as he brought his sword down and then drove it back up and further, carving through the soft flesh under his jaw with ease. Riddle's face collapsed on itself as blood and pieces of severed flesh from within his cranium burst forth, the eyes popping, a river of red pouring from the gaping mouth, splattering Sirius and coating him with the stench of death. The body still stood, swaying slightly on its feet, so Sirius released the grip of the sword and hammered his fist into the pommel with strength he hadn't known he had possessed forcing the tip and then the weak of the blade through the top of the skull. Pieces of greyish flesh spurted from the rupture and, finally, the body fell backwards, weighted by the greater part of the sword. It landed on the ground with a dull thud that rang of finality.
Sirius stood and panted, staring at the body on the ground. He had won. Riddle was dead – the leader of the enemy of the Order was defeated. So why did something feel so very wrong? Without sparing another thought for the feeling of dread twisting his insides, Sirius ignored the stunned, confused soldiers and bent to lay a hand on Remus' shoulder. The brown haired man was starting to stir. James and Lily came to a running stop behind him as Sirius looked over at the destroyed body of Tom Marvolo Riddle, at the blood running between the gaps in the gravel.
His eyes snapped back to Remus' – he started when he saw that the other man's eyes had opened, revealing bright yellow irises and dilated pupils that Sirius could have fallen into. His comrades' words faded in the background of unimportance, he scooped the smaller man up and got to his feet, throwing the weight over his shoulder. The sound of the chains rattling brought him back into the present. He glanced around, finding the soldiers drawing their swords again, starting towards the small group of rebels uncertainly.
"We should run." Sirius stated with a thick gulp.
"Err, aye. Aye, we should." James agreed with a quick nod, sheathing his blade and grabbing Lily by the hand. Within seconds, they were free of the walls, two of them unhindered by heavy chainmail, the third spurred on by sheer, frantic adrenaline under the weight of his friend. As they hit the forest on the outskirts of the city, Lily put her fingers to her lips and whistled. In a heartbeat, two dark steeds were running beside them, urged on by the thundering feet and clanging shields behind them as much as their humans were.
"Onwards, men!" Lily called into the night. The men shouted an 'aye' in response as James grasped the reigns mid stride and swung himself up onto the saddle, Lily jumping up behind him. It took Sirius a moment later to manage the same feat, struggling with his extra weight, hopping up and nearly trapping his foot in the stirrup sideways and losing his balance momentarily. Safely in the saddle, he gasped the horse's mane tightly and settled Remus in front of him, one hand holding him secure as the other reached instead for the reigns.
"Good show!" James grinned across at him as they weaved through the maze of trees, the wind whipping around them and loosing Lily's hair from its bindings, letting it stream behind them like a flame in a fair breeze. Sirius laughed and once he started, he couldn't stop. James and Lily joined his mirth as the soldiers dropped further and further behind until they could no longer be seen. The giddiness and adrenaline that usually rushed through them after completing a mission was tenfold with Remus safely back with them, Sirius' unease quickly forgotten in their heady and clever success.
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"We're home!" Sirius sang as they entered the underground tunnels on the edge of the country's border belonging to the rebellion, the Order. Guards appeared from around the corner, swords raised and ready. The weapons fell when they recognised Sirius Black and Lily and James Potter, but the expected smiles and congratulations did not come when they saw Remus in Sirius' arms, who had fallen unconscious again once he had been pulled from the scent of blood.
"Come," one of the guards said urgently, "Albus wants you in his chambers."
"What, no celebratory ale?" James grumbled as they followed the guard through, into the complex labyrinth of tunnels and underground chambers of the Order's camp. They were shown into their leader's rooms and left there. Lily frowned, looking around the empty chamber.
"Someone needs to see Remus." she told Sirius, just as someone entered behind them. The three turned to watch Albus Dumbledore stride past them. Instantly, they knew something was wrong; he was a cheerful man, even with the war taking place, and his appearance only helped the image, what with the long white beard tucked into the belt that cinched his mail. The problem was his eyes. They were hard and flat as he stopped before them, no trace of a smile or a twinkle to be found there.
"Welcome back home," the old man said gravely, "I am afraid that—"
"I don't want to hear anything before Remus is seen to." Sirius interrupted firmly. Albus met his eyes dead on, something that not many were willing to do since the war had deadened them and given them an unnerving cold quality that all but his friends met. The man nodded silently signalled for Sirius to bring the unconscious man over to his cot.
"He has been given something to keep him incapacitated," Albus said as soon as he touched two fingers to the side of Remus' neck. The lined hand moved up to lift the lids of his eyes, "His pupils have dilated. Has he been exposed to blood?"
"Only for a moment," Sirius answered brusquely, "He will recover?"
"He will be recovered on the morn." Albus nodded, straightening, "I believe they only rendered him unconscious to prevent him from escaping. He would have been able to tear the collar off had they not debilitated him."
"Thank you, God." Sirius sighed, closing his eyes in momentary prayer.
"The only reason he smelt blood was because Sirius killed Riddle." James interrupted, folding his arms, "Is this not welcome news? Is it not reason to celebrate? It isn't, no, because we were given no chance to sing our victory to the people."
"Something is not right." Sirius said suddenly, remembering the odd feeling that had chilled him at the sight of Riddle's decimate body, at the words inviting him to strike through and destroy. Rage had provoked him to do as his enemy had suggested without allowing him to think about whether or not he was playing into the man's hands or whether he was doing something that benefitted his cause.
"Quite." Albus said gravely, examining Sirius over his half-moon spectacles, "A raven arrived just before you did. My dear friends, Riddle is not dead."