Six weeks. Forty-one days. Sirius Black was just working out in his head how many hours forty-one days contained when he heard a door slam and the sound of running feet. He looked up to see Andie's long black braids flying wildly as she bounded toward him. She was the sort of ten-year old who never went anyplace without running.
"Mum says to come 'cause we're leaving." She stopped short and stood looking down at the jumble of parts spread on the grass around him.
"What's all this, then?" she puzzled.
"Parts," he sighed while collecting the various pieces he had been cleaning and tossing them into a box.
"Where do you get all this Muggle stuff?" she asked as she made a face and poked at a bit of metal with her toe.
"I found this in a rubbish heap, if you must know," he replied shortly. The fact that he even bothered explaining it to her was a symptom of his enormous boredom. "I want to see if I can put it all back together."
"You building another Muggle machine? I hope it's more interesting than the last one that just burned bread. What was it called?"
"A toaster," he snapped as she giggled back at him. "This is going to be a scooter. Muggles use them for getting around from place to place."
"Oh. Does it fly or anything?"
"No." He scowled as he stood up. "It's got two wheels and a little engine-"
"Ooooh. What's that black stuff all over your hands?" Andie took a step back from him.
"Grease," said Sirius, grinning and advancing on her, "and it doesn't come off--" He raised his hands and lunged. "--without a special potion made under the light of the full moon."
She shrieked, laughing, and pelted toward the back door of the house. Sirius dropped his arms and picked up a rag, laughing too as he wiped his hands.
Only a bit of grease remained under his fingernails when he entered the sitting room. His mother stood fussing with his sister's bag. Her normally neat brown hair seemed in disarray and her face held a worried look that she covered with a smile when she saw him.
"There you are," she sighed and shook her head with resignation. "Andie and I are off to Kent."
"How long are you staying?"
"I'm not sure, dear," she replied looking about the room distractedly. "Aunt Bathilda is recovering slowly from that dreadful curse." She dropped her voice as Andie came bounding down the stairs. "She's lucky to be alive at all, you know."
Andie sat down cross-legged on the floor and began to paw through her bag as her mother clucked in consternation. "Mum," she whined, "Pinky's not here!"
"Did you look under your bed? In your closet?" her mother recited as if by rote. Before she could finish the long list of places, Andie jumped up, crying "Oh, yes, closet!" and vanished up the stairs again.
"Your father's just come home," said his mother, her green eyes regarding him in concern. "He's been up all night on some business for the Ministry. See that he gets something to eat, please." She looked down at his fingernails and rolled her eyes, then said, "You'll be in charge while we're gone. Working on the Curse-Breaking Squad is keeping your father very busy these days."
"If Dad's not going to be home much..." Sirius began hopefully. "I mean, there's not a lot for me to do here and James invited me to stay with them...."
"I know you wanted to spend more time with your friends this summer," she said as she picked bits of grass from his shirt and smoothed the fabric. "But we need you at home. And travel is, well, not a good idea just now."
"Yeah. Okay." Life didn't seem very fair. Each year he'd been at school, things got more unsettled, the power and influence of Lord Voldemort grew, but it touched him little while he was at Hogwarts. He hadn't noticed things getting a lot worse for the two weeks of summer holidays he just spent with Remus in Wales, but since coming home to Bickenham, news of curses and catastrophes appeared daily. If visiting James was out of the question, he supposed that he'd have plenty of time to work on that scooter. But it seemed like a poor second choice.
"Got him!" squealed Andie, braids floating high as she took the stairs two at a time. She clutched a faded pink stuffed animal. When at last Andie's bag was re-packed, his mother took some powder from a small dish on the mantlepiece and flung it into the fireplace, saying "You first, Andie, dear." Still clutching Pinky, Andie stepped in and vanished while making one last face at her brother.
"Take care of yourself, dear," said his mother and kissed him. Then she, too, was gone.
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, frowning as he sauntered toward the kitchen. He didn't really have a clue as to what she wanted him to do but at least he could fix breakfast. His father, a large man with broad shoulders and the same jet black hair as his children, sat at the kitchen table with his head resting in his hands.
"Dad," Sirius began tentatively. "Do you want something to eat?"
He heard a low rumbling sound which might have been a response.
"You okay?" Sirius faltered as his father looked up at him in confusion, a fleeting memory of terror in his eyes as if still seeing something very far away. Sirius looked on, fascinated and concerned, as recognition flooded back into his father's face and he attempted a smile.
"I'm as well as can be expected, son," he grinned darkly. "For not having slept in...I don't know how long really."
"Cup of tea, then?" Sirius asked, hurriedly moving toward the kettle on the counter. After pouring boiling water into the teapot, he got out bread and jam, his best attempt at breakfast.
"They're keeping you busy," he said, setting a plate and cup in front of his father. "I've hardly seen you since I got back from Wales."
"Visiting a school friend, were you?" mumbled his father, starting in on the bread.
Sirius nodded as he pulled a chair from the table and swung it around backwards, sitting astride the seat with his arms resting on the high back. His father seemed famished and Sirius wondered how long it had been since he had eaten.
"The Lupin boy, right?" his father inquired, then he paused and shook his head. "Such a terrible shame about his father."
Sirius looked at the floor, his chin propped on his arms. Lord Voldemort seemed to have had a hand in ruining everyone's summer. Every wizard family he knew was touched in some way. Still he did not see why it should keep him confined to Bickenham. He'd try again.
"Dad," he began as he looked up. "James -- James Potter -- invited me to stay with him for a few weeks, and I--"
With a grimly determined shake of the head, his father put an end to any hope Sirius had for the rest of the summer. "No," he said heavily, "Your mother and I have discussed this. We want you to stay close to home until it's time to go back to school."
Sirius scowled but said nothing. After polishing off the bread and draining the tea cup, his father sat back. His face, although still drawn and pale, relaxed slightly. He stroked his neat black beard thoughtfully and considered carefully what to say next.
"Lord Voldemort has stepped up his, um, recruiting efforts recently. He has given quite a lot of power to certain families, families that want to eliminate the pollution, as they see it, from wizards who are not pure blood. We've seen an alarming increase of attacks on Muggle-born wizards this summer. Ambitious men like Ravenstone and Malfoy are only too happy to do Voldemort's dirty work, though you won't find them admitting to it publicly. They want to win over some of the old wizarding families and terrorize Muggle-borns." He shook his head with evident frustration. "And it's working. We've had our hands full coping with all the curses but even more alarming are the disappearances." He halted and made a conscious effort to lighten his mood. "Your marks at school are good, Sirius, although they could be higher if you'd apply yourself. After you graduate next year, we could really use you at the Ministry."
"Yeah. Maybe," Sirius said, rising and pushing the chair back against the table. "You should get some sleep, Dad."
"You're right," he replied, standing and stretching, then he looked his son in the eye. "And what will you do?"
"I guess I'll work on putting that Muggle scooter together," Sirius replied, turning for the door. "I may go into the village and look for a part I need to fix it."
"Sirius." The tone in his father's voice halted him in his tracks. "If you go out, take your wand with you."
Sirius looked puzzled. Underage wizards weren't supposed to do magic or carry wands on school holidays. Not that he hadn't broken that rule a few times.
"I'm going to put a locking spell on the house while I sleep and..." His father searched for words, suddenly sounding much wearier. "I'd like you to be careful as well."
Seeing the village with new eyes, Sirius ambled down High Street. Saturday morning usually brought out shoppers and today was no exception. In spite of overcast skies that threatened rain, the street and shops bubbled with parcel-laden adults and darting children, escaping their parents for as long as they could. Which of these people, he wondered, knew the name of Voldemort? Which of them was not who he seemed? You're far too paranoid, he told himself as he left High Street for a quieter side street. Nevertheless, he did have his wand tucked into his belt, concealed under his leather jacket.
Davy Hollerith, the only other person in Bickenham who went to Hogwarts, would probably be able to help him find the magneto cap he needed for the motor scooter. Davy's father operated the only garage in the small village and Muggle-born Davy was endlessly tinkering with machines. During holidays, Sirius often spent time with him, although they were not particular friends at school. Davy was a good enough sort of person, a bit timid perhaps. Anyway, he was a year behind Sirius and in another house at Hogwarts.
Hollerith's Garage, said the faded red letters of the sign above the open building, big enough to hold two Muggle cars. One was currently up on a lift when Sirius entered, although he could see no one working underneath it. The interior of the garage was poorly lit by a couple of bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. These threw fantastic shadows of the car onto the wall, giving the appearance of a large beast lurking in the darker recesses of the garage. Sirius idly wondered what sort of enchantment would be needed to make the car float on its own, instead of resting patiently on the lift.
He saw no one at all inside the garage. Along one wall were wooden cabinets with many drawers, a few half open and filled with tools. A table contained more tools and assemblies of car parts. Some of these looked like little tiny mechanical creatures, just born, spawned perhaps from the larger car the way frogs spawn. Sirius was poking at one such creature, which he thought was really a carburetor, when he heard voices just outside.
"Now, Davy," said a gruff voice, "I want you to finish with that carburetor. After dinner I'll be wanting to put it back as soon as I finish with the--"
Into the garage came an older man, thickset and dressed in grease-stained coveralls, and a taller boy in similar coveralls, thin with sandy hair and freckles. The boy's long face split into a broad grin as Sirius turned to face them.
"Sirius! Good to see you. Where've you been?" Davy spluttered in obvious excitement. "Dad, this is Sirius Black."
Mr. Hollerith, considerably less excitable than his son, regarded Sirius carefully. "Black," he intoned after a moment, his eyes narrowing, "You from around here? I don't believe I know your father."
"They live over on Chesterton Road, Dad," Davy piped up. "Sirius has lived here all his life."
Sirius laughed and said easily, "We don't have a car, though. My father works in London, takes the train and all that."
In reply, Mr. Hollerith shrugged his shoulders and grunted, as if it were inconceivable that a family wouldn't own a car. He seemed to dismiss Sirius entirely as he moved to one of the open tool drawers and noisily searched for something. He turned sharply, however, as Davy said, "Sirius is at school with me."
"Well," he drawled, appraising Sirius anew. "Right. I remember you now. Always taking stuff apart with the boy on holidays." He took his tools in hand and moved toward the floating car, calling over his shoulder, "Davy's got a bit of work to do today. Mind you don't keep him from it."
Davy gave Sirius an exasperated look. Taking up a screwdriver, he adjusted something on the carburetor lying on the table. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands quickly, and then set it down, saying, "It's nearly finished, Dad. Can I show Sirius something out back?"
His father growled an answer which Davy took as 'yes', motioning Sirius to follow him out the door. As they walked along the outside of the garage, Sirius explained that he had just found a banged up scooter; the frame was crushed but the engine seemed in good order. He hoped to put the engine on a frame they salvaged the previous summer. The cap from the magneto looked cracked, however.
"Definitely cracked," Davy said after examining the part Sirius pulled out of his jacket pocket. "But I know I've got another around here somewhere. Oh! Wait till you see what I've-- a little Triumph that I'm-- I've had to re-wire it, but it's almost done--" Davy had a tendency to babble when excited. He stopped, however, as they rounded the corner of the garage. There on the grass stood his Triumph, a small silver motorcycle with wires sticking out of the frame like snakes escaping a dense metal maze.
The Triumph did not hold Sirius' attention for long. A much larger black motorcycle rested against the back wall of the garage under an awning made of several canvas tarps strung together. Afterward, Sirius was never sure what it was about the first sight of that motorcycle that made him stop short, forgetting entirely about Davy's renewed chatter and his surroundings. Perhaps it was the strong impression of a wild animal, fierce and lustrously black, eyeing him disdainfully and whispering, 'Tame me, if you can.'
He might have stared for quite a long time but for the rough voice that said, "Hey, now, lad. If you'll be staring at me bike much longer, I'll have to charge you for it."
Momentarily confused, Sirius looked around for the source of the deep rumble and saw the speaker sitting on a battered metal garden chair, paint cracked and peeling, with one elbow resting on a once-matching table and one leg propped up on a similar chair. Even seated, the man looked large. His heavy-set build threatened to overwhelm the flimsy chair. Deep-set eyes glittered up at Sirius from a ruddy face which had seen many years out of doors. His thick hair and beard were reddish in color, shot with white, and tangled like the hedge of thorns so often found guarding the castle in a fairy tale.
"This is my friend Sirius," Davy chirped. "He goes to my school."
"Ah. Does he, now?" The man's dark eyes drilled into Sirius.
"Sirius, this is my Uncle Mick, He's staying with us for a bit... recovering."
The man, Mick, rose slowly, grasping a cane and leaning heavily on it, prompting Sirius to notice that his left leg was sheathed in a smooth white cast from knee to toe.
"Summer hols in the country," Mick said with a grimace, "same as you'n. Know a bit about motorcycles, do you? Course you must if you're here with this lad." He jabbed his cane at Davy who grinned in response.
Sirius found his tongue again, fetched from a far-off land of fantasy. "Yeah. Davy's taught me most everything I know about engines. This is yours?" he asked, trying not to sound as excited as he felt.
With a snort, Mick hobbled toward the enormous, hulking machine, trailed by the two boys. "You won't find too many of these no more." Pointing to the sleek black metal with his cane, he continued. "Vincent put out this here motorcycle, the Black Shadow. Only twelve thousand of these was made, all hand-assembled. This beast is a 1952 Series C, the best ever. Got a one liter V-engine worked into the frame-" He outlined the engine with the tip of his cane. "--so she'll really fly."
"I know a bit about flying myself," Sirius remarked casually, squatting down to look at the engine. "Is this thing fast?"
"Fast? She was the fastest in her day and she's no slouch now, 'specially if you don't count those Japanese--" Mick gave a loud snort. "Why, 'fore me accident, we had her doing over 125 miles an hour. Needs a bit of work now, though, to get her doing that again, but I'll get this beast running by the time this thing comes off." He tapped his cast lightly with the cane, then continued, "It's stopping that's tricky on this beast. Her brakes have killed more'n one man."
"Where did you get this, Uncle Mick? You never said." Davy inquired as Sirius continued to stare at the beast, his thoughts a jumble of engines and flying and speed.
"Friend of mine from the docks," Mick replied slowly. "Worked with him nearly thirty years. Now he's - well, he don't need it no more." Mick broke off and hobbled to the table, weighted down by more than his broken leg. He settled heavily in the chair, muttering to himself.
"What's that, Uncle Mick?" Davy asked with concern.
"Don't mind me, lad." Mick shook his tangled mop of hair. Forcing a more cheerful tone to his voice, he said, "It's time you got that bike of your'n working. Tell you what, you boys go round to the Plough and bring me back a pint. Jack'll let you have it, if you say it's for me. I'll have them wires back in 'fore you get back." He took some coins out of his pocket and handed them to Davy.
"Sirius, lad," he called out. "Yer welcome to come back and stare at the Black Shadow. I'll not charge you."
Outside the Plough and Stars, Davy held a paper sack, the mission having been successful. The little town common, dominated by an enormous copper beech that overspread the grass, benches and tiny bandstand, contained strolling shoppers and running children. How normal it all seemed, Sirius thought once again.
"Look," Davy said, a little excitement in his voice, "I think that's someone from school."
"Where?" Sirius broke out of his reverie.
"Under the tree, talking to someone, I think." Davy pointed toward the shadows underneath the beech tree to a girl with white blonde hair, bright against the dark trunk and leaves, who appeared to be alone now.
"She does look familiar," Sirius pondered.
"That's Elise de Mornay." Davy blushed as he said her name. "She's in Ravenclaw, a sixth year like you."
Sirius narrowed his eyes, recognizing her as she turned and noticed them for the first time.
"She's really pretty," Davy stuttered slightly and colored more deeply. Sirius had never given her much thought, although Davy clearly had.
Sirius hadn't given much thought to girls in general, until recently. In his limited experience at school, girls either blushed and stammered a lot when he came near or threw themselves in his way. This interested him, although he had not yet met a girl who looked at him in the way that Lily looked at James. There was something between those two that he could not quite grasp, something he found himself longing for without knowing why. Was he in love with Lily or just with the way she looked at James? Best not to worry about it, he usually concluded. He was the first to admit that he didn't understand girls and he didn't really care to. Now, watching Elise saunter slowly towards them, he found himself wishing that she would look at him in that way.
"She left school before the term was out," Davy said. "I heard that she got sick or something."
"Well," Sirius murmured appreciatively, "she looks fine now."
Davy laughed nervously. Both boys fell silent as they watched her emerge from the shadows and cross the street. Her creamy blond hair, long and loose, swirled around her shoulders much the same way that her long skirt, a deep magenta, swirled about her hips and fell to her ankles. She had a heart-shaped face, accentuated by a widow's peak in her fair hair. In one hand she carried a brown shopping bag and in the other, a turquoise umbrella swung provocatively at her side. As she crossed the street, she fixed pale blue eyes on the boys. They were both staring at her and she knew it.
Drawing near, she addressed Sirius in a soft voice with a hint of marble underneath, "Well, Sirius Black, what a surprise to see you in this little..." She made a vague gesture with her head. "...village. I'm sure I didn't expect to meet any wizards at all when I came in this morning."
"Hello, Elise," Sirius replied coolly. Davy, tongue-tied, was content to let Sirius speak. "Weren't you just talking to someone under that tree?"
"What? No." She gave a sharp little laugh. "Men are always bothering me, it seems. I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, you know. I'll make an exception in your case, though."
Sirius laughed, too. He enjoyed challenges of all sorts.
"We happen to live in this little village," he countered archly. Hastily he added, "This is Davy Hollerith."
Elise seemed not to recognize the other boy as she glanced in his direction briefly, taking in his grease-stained coveralls but making no comment. Instead she turned her attention back to Sirius.
"How do you stand these long summer holidays in the country?" She made the last word sound like purgatory. "I'm utterly bored out of my mind."
"Visiting the neighborhood, are you?" Sirius asked.
"My grandparents have rented a house for the summer," she answered. "I've come to stay with them for four weeks. Fresh country air and all that. I can't wait to get back to the city where there are proper shops and ... things to do."
They stood in silence for a moment as it began to rain lightly. Davy, who grew increasingly uncomfortable, stammered, "I should be getting back now. I've got to give this to my uncle." He clutched the paper bag tightly, folding and refolding the edges. "And my dad wants me to...I've got some work to do, you know...."
"Sure," Sirius answered in an offhanded way. "I'll stop by later and see how your bike is coming along. Maybe you can help me put my engine back together."
Davy nodded wordlessly and, with a furtive glance toward Elise, scurried off down High Street. She seemed to dismiss him entirely, frowning as she noticed the rain. She handed her umbrella to Sirius, expecting him to open it for her, which he did. The rain fell harder and they both drew under the umbrella.
"Doesn't look like the rain's going to let up. Do you want to go inside or something?" he asked with some reluctance. He didn't really mind sharing an umbrella with her.
"I have to wait for my cousin to pick me up," she replied looking up at him with pale, inviting eyes. "You don't mind waiting just a bit, do you?"
"No. Not at all." Trying to think of something to say, he asked, "Where is it you're staying?"
"A dreary little farm. Longstoke Farm, it's called." She rolled her eyes as she said this. Sirius merely nodded. Longstoke Farm, on the Newmarket Road, had been vacant for some time. Formerly a racing stable, it was supposed to have a large and elegant house.
"You must really be bored if you have to spend your time with Muggles," she continued, smiling up at Sirius with a conspiratorial expression.
"D'you mean Davy?" Sirius gave a small laugh. "His parents are Muggles, but he's a wizard like us. Didn't you recognize him? He's a fifth year--sixth I should say now--in Hufflepuff."
"Oh. Who could recognize anyone in those dreadful Muggle clothes? Although," she said, pitching her voice lower and running a finger down the front of his leather jacket, "this is quite nice." Sirius began to wish that it would keep raining all afternoon.
"Davy's a good sort," he said. "We both grew up here, although he didn't know he was a wizard until primary school."
"I don't pay much attention to Mudbloods," she sighed dismissively. She felt Sirius stiffen slightly and draw back. Hastily she said, "Mud- I mean - Muggle-borns are all right, I suppose, if there's no one else around."
Wishing to change the subject, Sirius asked, "I heard that you left school before the end of term. Were you sick?"
"You heard that I was... ill?" She paused for a beat, confusion evident beneath the silky words. She reached a hand up to push her hair behind one ear, continuing to smooth it as she talked. "Some family problems. That's all." Her voice trailed off as she dropped her hand and forgot to look at him, forgot where she was entirely, biting her lip and gazing past his shoulder.
Rain fell on the pavement in a chaotic staccato. They stood alone on the street now, all the other shoppers having long since retreated to better shelter. She could have been made of marble except for the tiny drop of red glistening on her lower lip like the winter trace of a wounded animal staggering through the snow.
"I didn't," Sirius began, distracted by the look on her face. "I mean, Davy said something about it, but I...."
As if a frozen statue had come to life, her face colored again and she smiled. When she looked up at him, the glint in her blue eyes drove the former picture of anguish from his mind.
"Well," she drawled, forgetting his previous question and moving closer to him in the odd turquoise light of the umbrella. "You know, since I'm stuck in this prison for another few weeks, perhaps we can have a little fun. Anything to--"
She broke off as a lemon-yellow Jaguar sailed into the village center, stopping across the street from them. Sirius saw a man with the same white blond hair, her cousin presumably, reach over and open the passenger's door with a sharp snap. A look of impatience was evident on the man's face through the curtain of rain.
She murmured something hurriedly as Sirius handed her the umbrella. Dodging puddles, she crossed to the car. She talked with the driver as she wrestled with the umbrella, turning back to look at Sirius once before getting inside. The man stared at Sirius as well, a cold stare which made him angry for no reason. He thought he heard his name as Elise and her cousin began to argue loudly, but the slamming of the door prevented him from hearing anything else. Elise gave him one last icy look as the Jaguar pulled away, disappearing through the murky drizzle like an enormous lemon drop melting in the rain.
He stood looking at the phantom of the car long after it was gone. What was the argument about, he wondered. Maybe Sirius Black wasn't good enough for Elise de Mornay. Perhaps he should be angry. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed as the rain continued to cascade around him.
Sirius wasn't laughing by the time he arrived home, however, out of breath and drenched. He collided with the front door, squeezing against it to find shelter under the narrow eaves of the house. The wet doorknob slipped through his fingers and wouldn't turn. He grabbed it with both hands and tugged hard several times before he remembered the locking spell on the house.
The sound of water pouring from the eaves and drumming at his feet mingled with the swelling sound of rain falling on pavement. Never, in all his memory, had the house in Bickenham been locked. He had not really believed his father's parting words. Now, as he pulled out his wand to undo the spell, possibilities seeped into his mind like the errant raindrops dripping down his neck and soaking his skin.
Sirius and Davy spent the next week absorbed by engines as Sirius' scooter was coaxed into working. Mick often gave advice while he tinkered with his beast, as he called it. He told them fantastic stories about working on the docks, riding up and down Britain and through Europe, and more besides. Sirius, not being too familiar with the Muggle world or with Mick, didn't always know how much to believe and he scoffed more often than not, but enjoyed the tales anyway.
His father continued to work long, irregular hours. Frequently, Sirius came back to find him at the kitchen table, surrounded by stacks of reports. He wouldn't discuss the reasons, but he seemed to be working from home, receiving reports by owl and pacing about the small house as if waiting for something.
On an unusually sunny afternoon, the two boys sat at the little table behind Hollerith's Garage talking about magic, instead of motorcycles. Sirius was polishing an apple on his shirt and thinking about the Black Shadow. A large book and Davy's partially written Potions essay, summer homework from Hogwarts, lay between them.
"What does Professor Leary expect?" Davy squirmed and pointed at the parchment. "I can't seem to come up with fifty uses for monkshood in potions!"
With a ferocious crunch, Sirius bit into the apple and pointed toward the book with the half-eaten fruit, saying, "Bit of a trick, really. Monkshood is also called aconite. Look that up."
Davy enthusiastically began searching the book as Sirius lazily finished the apple, his eyes straying toward the Black Shadow. He stood and casually tossed the apple core into a metal trash bin where it gave a satisfying thump against the side. He drifted toward the slumbering beast, lying in the shade under the makeshift awning, and laid his hands on the cool, black leather seat. He was so absorbed that he failed to notice Mick stumping heavily around the corner. Davy jumped up noisily and stuffed the essay into his book, closing it with a sharp clap, and then dropping it nervously on the ground.
"Mighty big book you got there, lad," Mick said, pointing to the Potions text with the tip of his cane. Davy looked confused and mumbled something incoherent while stooping over to pick it up. Sirius, now paying attention to something other than the motorcycle, suspected that Mick was teasing Davy, who hadn't figured that out.
"Yer dad wants to see you," Mick continued. "He needs you to run somethin' over to Mr. Tinker. Seems his truck broke down and he's carrying eggs or chickens --not quite sure which--an' he needs some part right away."
Davy's face brightened, his mind starting to work, and he bubbled excitedly, "I'll have to take my bike, then, if it's that much of a hurry." Mr. Hollerith didn't like Davy spending time riding his motorcycle; he considered it a complete waste of time. Any excuse for taking out the little Triumph was a victory in Davy's eyes. He shoved the book at Sirius, who grinned at him in response, and ran to the Triumph, pushing it along toward the garage and out of sight.
"Ah. He's a good lad," Mick ruminated amiably as he limped to one of the chairs, positioning the other with his cane so that he sat down on one and threw his broken leg up on the other. He looked up at Sirius, still clutching the Potions book, with narrowed, unreadable eyes. "And you'd be a wizard, too, eh?"
"Yes," replied Sirius warily.
"Surprised that a Muggle like me knows about the likes of you?" Mick chuckled.
"I suppose... because of Davy that you would know something," Sirius answered. But he was surprised. Muggles weren't supposed to know that they were Muggles. As far as he could tell, the Ministry of Magic went to great trouble to keep it that way. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, the book still pressed against his chest.
"You have naught to fear, lad," Mick replied pleasantly enough, yet seemed to be holding something back.
"Afraid? I'm not--" Sirius hesitated. The conversation was taking a weird turn. He set the book down on the table, edge on, still gripping the top of it, saying, "It's just that the Min- I mean, we're supposed to protect Muggles from--"
"Protect?" Mick gave a great laugh which shook the table, sending the heavy book to the ground with a thump. Sirius didn't bother to pick it up. "Why I met me first wizard twenty years ago, down on the Thames, when a bloody great water demon come out of the river and attacked the poor fellow. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it meant to harm him, so I wrestled it back into the water. Alfie Crockford, that was the wizard's name. I been friends with him ever since."
"You have?" Sirius looked around for someplace to sit, finding a wooden crate and dragging it to the table. This was definitely the weirdest conversation he'd ever had.
"Sure," Mick answered with obvious amusement at creating so much confusion. "Me, Alfie an' Doris, she's Alfie's wife, we sit down for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron or they have me over t' tea sometimes." Sirius could think of nothing to say in reply but Mick continued on cheerfully. "When Davy got that fancy letter from yer school, Betty--my sister, she is--showed it to me and asked me what to do. Well, I asked Alfie and he told me it was the best school for wizards in England, a real honor to get asked an' all. I'm proud of that lad, although I don't suppose Betty and George knows what to make of him."
"He does okay in classes, I guess. And he's taught me a lot about Mug- machines and things. We're always scouring rubbish heaps for parts and trying to make them fit," Sirius laughed. " I'd give anything to work on something like that beast of yours. It's fantastic"
"Weren't always so, lad," Mick rumbled. "Me an' Rabbit found the beast in about the same condition as that scooter of your'n. Rabbit, he recognized it for what it was. Said we had to haul it home. I thought he was crazy, but after a year or so of scrounging parts from everyplace, we made her run again." Noticing the grin on Sirius face, he growled, "An' what's so funny, lad?"
"The name, I guess," mused Sirius. "My friends and I have some funny names for each other, too."
Mick stretched up a hand and wrapped thick fingers around a tangle of hair, tugging as if to release a stubborn memory. "His name was Henry. Can't say as I remember exactly why we called him Rabbit, 'cept he was always kind of small and nervous-like. But, he got me through some pretty tough spots." Mick fell silent, adrift in a far country where Sirius could not reach him.
"If you don't mind me--" Sirius faltered. Then, catapulted by some strange compulsion, he blurted out, "What happened to Rabbit?"
At first, he didn't think that Mick would answer. The older man got heavily to his feet, forgetting about his cane, and limped to the Black Shadow. He leaned on the handlebars for support, his back toward Sirius, for such a long time that he seemed to have forgotten the boy. Sirius stood at last, on the point of leaving and sure that he had made Mick angry, when he heard the deep voice answering in a raspy whisper.
"I miss Rabbit somethin' awful." He turned to look at Sirius and something in his expression drew the boy toward him.
"Me an' him worked the docks." Mick looked back down at the Black Shadow as Sirius approached. "He weren't strong nor particularly smart neither, but he could always make you laugh and he put in an honest day's work. Down there--London, I mean--we got unions, but it's always some gang what really calls the shots. Rabbit, he didn't like what they was doing, putting their own blokes in charge of crews and skimming money off jobs by working light, working with too few men. He complained to the union 'cause he was sure someone was going to get hurt by it, but they done nothing." He shook his head, anger and disgust rippling down his neck and shoulders.
"I told him--I told him to lay off. They was out to get him and I couldn't watch his back all the time, but Rabbit, he wouldn't--couldn't maybe--stop speakin' out." Mick gave a great shudder that took his tongue away. The beast creaked as he rocked it back and forth obsessively.
Sirius, still gripped by the craving to know although fearing what he might hear, spoke for him, slowly putting the pieces together. "The gang ... found Rabbit ... and--"
"He's dead," cried Mick in anguish, shoving the motorcycle hard against the garage wall, sending shudders through the wood. "I couldn't save him! He was a better man 'n me and my friend--" His frame exploded in great, heaving sobs. "And I couldn't save him."
Heavy, summer silence fell, broken only by Mick's ragged breathing. Sirius couldn't move or think of anything to say. Slowly, a tide went out somewhere inside Mick. He turned abruptly and dragged his broken leg to the table, the chair groaning in protest as he sat.
"So, me best friend's gone, I got this lovely thing," he growled and thumped his cast. "An' a summer holiday in the country." As Sirius came back to the table and silently took a seat on the crate, Mick asked him with forced and painful cheerfulness, "You think I should go back, Sirius lad, to that bloody mess on the docks or take the beast and run for it?"
"I think you will go back," Sirius stated quietly, looking at Mick's face for the first time in what seemed like ages.
"Would you do it, lad?" Mick eyed him suspiciously.
"Yes. Yes, I would," he responded without pause, although he didn't know until that instant what he might answer.
"Well, then," Mick fussed while reaching down to pick up his cane. "You'd be right. If nothin' else, I want to spit in their faces. 'Though," he said with a wink," I'm going t' watch me back a bit better from now on."
The distant sound of a motorcycle engine drawing near washed away any lingering tension in the air.
"Tell you what." Mick brightened. "You and Davy can have a bit of a go on the beast, if--" He wagged a finger at the explosion of excitement on Sirius' face. "--you have a care to not wreck her."
Soon, although not soon enough for Sirius, Davy came around the corner of the garage, pushing the little Triumph. He started talking excitedly before Sirius could even begin and before he got his helmet off. Sirius missed the first part of what he said as Davy shook his sweaty hair out of the helmet.
"...I was going down High Street," he tripped over his words in a rush. "And she was--she talked to me--remembered my name and--showed her the bike--"
"Davy, what on earth are you talking about?" Sirius asked irritably, eager to move on to more important things.
"Elise. I saw her and she talked to me," he stammered, his face flushed and his hair plastered on with sweat. "Said she might even like a ride on my--"
"Forget about her. She's not worth your time," Sirius cut him off, thinking that Elise must have grown even more bored during the last week. Davy's face fell and lost some of its high color.
"Mick says he'll let us take a spin on the Black Shadow. You can go first." Sirius jumped up excitedly. Davy, too, caught his enthusiasm.
Davy's trial run on the Black Shadow, to the end of the lane and back, was a mixed success. Being on the timid side probably saved him from serious injury. Mick had warned him that the brakes were a bit touchy. On his return, he almost pitched over the handlebars as Sirius grabbed them to bring the beast to a halt. Still, Davy's face filled with unrestrained joy as he jumped off. He continued to babble incoherently as he took off his helmet and handed it to Sirius.
"Now, lad," Mick limped over and addressed Sirius, "I got a feeling yer going to want to go further than the end o' the lane." Sirius swung his leg over the seat and ran his hands over the controls on the handlebars. "Remember that this beast has an engine four times bigger than that little bike of Davy's. She don't corner well, she don't stop well, and she don't take bumps well. She's faster than anything, and they don't call her a man-killer for no good reason. You listenin' to me, lad?"
"Yeah," Sirius replied in a distracted voice which didn't convince Mick.
"Where's the kickstarter, then?" Mick barked at him.
"Um." Sirius looked down hurriedly at his feet.
"Here." Mick pointed to the right side of the bike, shaking his head. "I hear wizards got magic for healing broken bones. You might need it. Start her up, then, lad."
Watching and listening to Davy ride the Black Shadow did not prepare Sirius for the deep, throbbing rumble that rolled through his body when he started the engine. He thought of the machine as a beast in some abstract sense until now. As he rolled out into the lane, he knew it was alive underneath him, purring with an edge of menace. He also knew that only one of them was going to win.
He kept the speed low on the dirt lane. Sirius actually had been listening to Mick say that the bike didn't take corners or bumps well. He thought that he had gotten the feel of her by the time he made the shift onto paved road, flying for a bit and then landing with a bone-jarring impact. He laughed nervously and almost had the wind knocked out of him. The engine whined as he shifted into higher gear and let out the throttle, too intoxicated to look at the speed. Fast was enough for him.
The engine throbbed, reverberating up through his hands and feet, nothing like the smooth ride of a broomstick in which the wind might buffet you from the outside, but you and the broomstick were a calm, almost fluid, core. He and the beast were anything but calm as they battled through the still air, creating a hurricane as they went. It felt like riding an enormous black panther.
He crouched low, finding the right position to reduce the drag and cut down on the howling wind. As he merged onto the Fen Road, he decided to make for the Little Thumping roundabout, about a mile up ahead, just to see how she took curves. Almost too late, he remembered the enormous pothole coming up; it was village lore that it could not be fixed and swallowed entire cars. Unable to dodge it in time, he and the beast left the ground and soared over the chasm. He looked down to see their combined shadow, not that of a boy or a motorcycle but of some fantastic flying creature swooping toward ground. This time he prepared for the backlash, shifting his arms and legs with the beast when her suspension groaned and popped as they met the road.
More confident now, he twisted back the throttle. The road ran straight until the roundabout and there were no cars in sight. He backed off on the throttle as they approached the entrance, leaning to the left as he came to the circle of road. He fought the Black Shadow for control; she wanted to fling them out onto the grassy verge but he wouldn't let her. He whooped with joy as he completed several circuits of the roundabout. Then a car entered and Sirius reluctantly thought about returning.
He straightened up as they got back onto the Fen Road. He meant to avoid the pothole, but suddenly a truck was coming at him with the same thought. He swerved, leaning left. The beast seized the opportunity and they slid across the road, out of control, as the truck honked angrily. He let go, not wanting to be pinned underneath the motorcycle, and continued to skid over the pavement and into a ditch.
He lay stunned for a time; whether it was one minute or ten, he couldn't tell. The sound of Davy's little Triumph roused him to roll over and prop himself up on his elbows. Davy jumped off his motorcycle and cried out when he saw the Black Shadow--miraculously she did not seem to be harmed--lying on her side, an angry and indignant black beast. Sirius watched him wrestle with the beast, sure that he could not right her by himself.
She thinks she's won, he thought as he forced himself to rise. Pain shot down his left leg where a long, red streak extended from hip to knee. Davy looked up at the sound of movement, his tense face flooded with relief. Sirius wasn't certain he could take a step yet, so he stood with hands on hips and eyed the beast, looking like a long and bulky shadow splashed across the road.
She thinks she's won, he chuckled inwardly, but I'm the first one to get up. Suddenly this seemed the most hilarious thing in the entire universe. Davy's face knotted in concern as Sirius began to howl hysterically. He ran to Sirius who limped painfully, though still laughing, toward the hulk, brushing aside any attempt to help him walk.
The motorcycle lay sprawled on the pavement at his feet. Afterward, Sirius would always think of her as the Shadow, his Shadow. When they got her upright, he convinced Davy, with much argument, to get back on his own Triumph and start home for the garage.
Sirius stood for a moment, one hand on the seat and one on the handlebar, looking over the motorcycle: I've won and you know it. He winced, stifling a cry of pain, as he swung his leg over the bike. Luckily for him, the kickstarter was on the right-hand side. She started up on the second try, the thrum of her engine speaking to him in a new way. Now we'll fly, my Shadow, he thought.
In case you don't know what a roundabout (or rotary) is, it's a place where a lot of roads come together and cause confusion, formerly used to drive cows to market, now used to drive Muggles crazy.
The Black Shadow is a real bike. More information about her can be found at or . Thanks again to Dave, motorcycle expert supreme, who gave a kickstart to Sirius' first ride.
Revised 5 March 2004: more tinkering...I think it's better...you be the judge of that.
~ CLS