I come round to a banging head and a stinging check. The banging head I can understand. The stinging cheek confuses me. I open my eyes. What I see is blurred so I keep blinking, until gradually everything around me comes into focus. I can just about make out the cave ceiling in the gloom, so I know I haven't been moved, when I am lifted without warning off the floor by the scruff of my neck and slammed unceremoniously against a rock. My brain rattles about in my skull and I try to move my hands up to defend myself but find that they are tied behind my back. An interesting development.
I look about dazed until my eyes find my attacker. They widen in shock and I feel my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline.
It can't be.
Before I can even begin to fathom what is happening my attacker raises his hand high into the air. I frown at it, wondering what he could possibly be doing. Then he lets it whiz it down to crack against my cheek. The sound reverberates around the room. I wince at the pain. My cheek feels like it's on fire. At least I know why it was stinging when I woke up. He must have slapped me awake.
"What the hell are you doing here?" my attacker growls.
Despite my predicament I scoff. "I could ask you the same question." I croak hoarsely, my throat raw from sea water.
The blow is fast. I don't even see him raise his fist before he sends it crunching into my face again. I note that he kindly chose to avoid my nose, but the force of the hit was still enough to split my lip. Blood drips down from it onto my chin. It tastes bitter on my tongue, as though remnants of the potion I consumed still swam within it. I cringe at the thought.
"I am in no mood for your games tonight. Tell me what you were doing here before I do something I regret," my attacker barks, his eyes ablaze with cold fury.
I let my head flop back onto the rock behind me and observe him for a few moments. I haven't him this close up in years. It's remarkable how little he has changed. Same haircut, same gloating face that I had grown to hate other the years. Looking at him now you'd never believe the heartache he had caused me and my family.
But then, he had always been a selfish man my brother.
I try to answer but my voice catches in my throat and comes out as barely more than a whisper. I shake my head. "Water," I gasp.
Sirius smirks. "Don't you think you've had enough of that already?" he says.
I glare at him. Then, to my surprise, he starts to rummage about in the pockets of his cloak. He pulls out a battered metal canteen that I recognise instantly. It was the one James Potter had bought him for Christmas years ago, when my brother had been about thirteen. It had been an ongoing inside joke turned competition between Sirius and his friends: who could get him the most mundane, muggle present. It had drove our parents mad. I can remember watching him unwrap it, face full of glee, seconds before Mother had torn it from his grasp. She'd thrown it straight into the fireplace, but he must have retrieved it later when they had all gone to bed. In fact, if I squint my eyes I am sure I can still see scorch marks surrounding the image that Sirius had describe as a 'Superman', whatever that was. How Sirius had managed to keep it safe all those years in our house, with fathers constant searches of his room, I couldn't guess. Maybe he'd sent it to Potter, or one of his other minions for safekeeping.
Sirius lifts the flask to my lips and I take a few deep gulps from it, savouring the sensation of the cool liquid running down my raw throat.
Then Sirius snatches it away from me. I begin to protest, but he cuts me off instantly. "You can have more when you start talking," he snarls.
I sigh heavily. "You won't believe me."
"Don't care. Talk," he demands bluntly.
I stare at him evenly, wondering whether it was worth even trying to lie to him. Sirius had always been able to see right through me, even as small children. No doubt he'd probably have a stash of veritaserum hidden away in that cloak of his, and I knew it would make his day if I gave him an excuse to use it. Besides, after what I had just done there was really no point in lying. I was a dead man walking once the Dark Lord heard of what I had done.
"Trying to find something," I grunt.
Sirius arches an eyebrow. "In the sea?"
I roll my eyes. "In the cave," I reply tersely.
"Did you find it?"
I nod. Speaking was making my throat burn.
"What was it?" Behind his look of supreme contempt I can see a hint of curiosity pass over my brother's face.
But I wan not giving in to him that easily. "Water." My voice is starting to crack.
The curiosity is replace instantly with the famous scowl. "What was it?" he asks more forcibly.
I look away. Out of the corner of my eye I see him clench his fist. The corner of my mouth twitches. To irk him further I pretend to become intensely interested in a small pebble that rests next to my thigh. My attempt at play-acting doesn't last long as his boot lands slams squarely against my chest, knocking the air out of me and pushing me further into the rocks. I sneer up at him.
"Tell. Me," he shouts, twisting his boot painfully into my skin.
"Wa. Ter," I demand, my voice barely audible now.
Sirius shouts in rage, but the boot is removed and he thrusts the flask into my mouth again. It clangs painfully against my teeth but I am too in need of relief to care.
When I have drank nearly all the water in the flask Sirius pulls it back and shoves it into his pocket roughly. He crouches so his face is mere inches from mine. "Now, either tell me what it was or I'll throw you back in there," he says, jerking his head towards the water behind us. The ferocity in his eyes tells me he's not joking.
I lick my lips nervously, and wince as my saliva brushes against my cut. "A locket."
Sirius blinks. "What?"
I repeat myself.
"A locket?" he frowns.
"Yes," I say through gritted teeth.
"You almost got yourself killed over a piece of jewellery?" It looked like he was struggling between severe disbelief and raucous laughter.
I say nothing. I don't want to give him the satisfaction.
"Why?" Sirius inquires, his eyes narrowing, apparently choosing disbelief.
I shrug. "It's important."
"To whom?"
"The Dark Lord."
Sirius smiles, as though my words had solved the mystery for him. "So you were taking it for Voldemort?"
I shake my head. The frown returns to Sirius' face.
"What then?" he asks incredulously.
"I was stealing it."
"Fuck off," Sirius laughs, turning away his face away from me in disbelief.
"I was!" I insist, indignant.
"Why would you steal from Voldemort?" he says looking back at me, though I get the feeling he is talking more to himself then to me so I choose to remain quiet and save my voice. Sirius' eyes flicker between mine, and I can see the cogs turning in his head as he tries to understand the situation. Then he looks around. "Where is it then?"
I shrug again. "Kreacher has it."
"Kreacher?" Sirius asks, working the house elf's name like it was some kind of unpleasant food he'd been forced to eat, his face a picture of upmost disgust.
"He came with me. I told him to take it away and destroy it," I explain.
Sirius looks at me as if I had just told him that The Dark Lord had decided to give up his life of tyranny in the pursuit of becoming a ballerina. "You had an item of extreme importance to Voldemort and you trusted it to Kreacher?"
It's my turn to smile, which I do vehemently. "Yes I did," I say, taking great pleasure in knowing the fact that Sirius had always hated and mistrusted the elf.
He backhands the smile from my face and storms away. He kept his back towards me for a few moments, and though I can't see his face I know it will be creased deep in a scowl. I suppress a sigh and try to ignore my cheek, which is throbbing as a result of my brother's rough handling.
Sirius turns back towards me and observes me for a few moments more, a whole world of questions swimming behind his eyes.
"Right," he says and strides towards me.
The sudden movement alarms me and I try to scramble away, completely forgetting about the fact that my hands are tied and there is a rock behind me, so all I accomplish is a sharp whack on the head which causes me to groan. Sirius stoops down, grabs me by the collar of my shirt and hauls me up until I am standing. My heads spins and I stagger slightly, my shoulder bashing into his chest.
"What are you doing?" I stammer.
He ignores my question and takes out his wand from his pocket. I flinch on instinct. He notices and smirks.
"You're coming with me," he says and suddenly I realise what he intends to do.
"It won't work," I blurt out.
"What won't work?" he snaps.
"You can't apparate in here," I say. Sirius scoffs and brandishes the wand with more confidence. "The cave's protected against it. If you try it you'll get us splinched or worse. Believe me, I know," I splutter frantically.
Sirius' eyes rake over my face in contempt. "How did you get in here then?" he asks, looking around for an explanation.
"The boat," I say, nodding my head towards it, somewhat surprised that it hadn't glided back to where it came from by now.
Sirius exhaled dramatically and shoved the wand back into his cloak. He dragged me towards the boat, and was about to step inside when he let out a harsh shriek, and snatched his foot back. He let go of me and I stumbled away from him, crashing into the floor once more.
"What?" I shout in alarm.
Sirius stares into the boat with a look of such intense rage that makes even me, who had grown used to his moody outbreaks over the years, nervous. When it became clear that he wasn't going to tell me, or help me back to my feet, I start to shuffle along the floor until I reach the boat. Clumsily I manoeuvre myself onto my knees, which is hard to do when your hands are tied behind your back, and look over the side. I understand my brother's reaction immediately.
Cowering behind one of the oars, as though it would offer him any protection what-so-ever, was Kreacher.