Half-things
Updated 6/14/15
"What's the meaning of this Albus?" asked Lily Potter as she walked into the headmaster's familiar circular office. James trailed behind her, looking worried.
"Ah, Lily, James; Please take a seat," Albus transfigured two lemon colored chintz chairs from his beloved lemon drops. Lily sat down slowly. James looked incredulously at the chair before letting out a silent sigh and plopping into it.
"Now that we are all here…we can begin," Albus said as he sat in his own chair.
"What's happened?" asked Molly Weasely, wringing her hands, "Is….are the children okay?"
Albus nodded. "Yes Molly dear, the children are fine; I however, seem to be in a spot of trouble."
The Order stared expectantly at Dumbledore, who seemed to be waiting for someone to ask 'why'.
Sirius looked troubled and was the first to start asking questions. "Why's that Albus? What'd you do?"
Albus smiled slightly. "I continue to live," He stated simply. "I have received letters from the boy, now known as The Shadow -The one sent to kill me -" he brandished five letters in the air, "Judging by the contents of these letters I fear that the boy is…not in the right state of mind, and therefore, a danger to us all."
"You're saying he's crazy?" asked Fabian slowly.
"You'd have to be to kill without remorse," snapped Moody.
Fabian scowled at Moody. "I know that! But really! Isn't this all something we already know? It was pretty obvious at Hogsmeade that he wasn't right. Hell, Bill even told us -"
Albus interrupted, "Yes Fabian, but in light of recent events I felt it was important to reiterate this oft overlooked fact -"
"What events?" James asked as he abruptly leaned forward. He too had thought that Dumbledore had only been pointing out the obvious. "I haven't seen or heard anything, so it must have happened this morning."
Albus frowned and pushed his half-moon glasses further up his nose. "Around that time, yes. Just minutes before you arrived, and about fifteen minutes after I received the newest letter, I received a frantic fire call from Augusta -" someone gasped; James thought it was Molly, "it seems the boy taunted Neville and made absurd claims, then proceeded to fight him."
"Is Neville alright?" asked a white-faced Molly
"He's fine my dear. Perhaps a little shaken, as is understandable. The Shadow was severely injured, it will take some time to heal, making him vulnerable to attack."
"A little shaken, Albus!" Cried Minerva as he tore her gaze from the bookshelf and looked at Albus, "The poor boy must be more than a little shaken! Angry, upset, disgusted – he must be experiencing a range of emotions that none of us are even capable of understanding!"
Minerva looked around the room. Molly was nodding her head so much in agreement that James thought it was going to fall off. Lily was starring blankly at the window. Emmeline was scowling at the fireplace, clearly cursing the boy for possibly causing damage to Neville's already frail emotional state. James was surprised to see that Sirius had a look of agreement on his face.
He did not get a chance to look at anyone else, Kinglsey's deep voice drew his attention back into reality.
"Albus, do you really think the boy attacked Neville? From what I heard -" began Kingsley from his position near Sirius.
He was interrupted by Albus. "Kingsley, though you may be an Auror I can assure you that my sources are certainly more up to date than the office gossip. They have informed me that the boy did indeed attack Neville, verbally at first before escalating things to a physical fight."
Kingsley nodded shortly, his eyes tight.
"Do you think he's trying to break Neville down?" asked Fabian from his position against the bookshelf.
"It's a possibility, playing a mental game with him," answered Moody.
"A possibility? It's obviously a part of his plan!" cried Molly in outrage, turning in her chair to face Moody.
"I think it's more likely that the boy was gauging Neville's skill level," said Sirius matter-of-factly as he examined his nails. "Seems Neville got the best of him, this time. Now he knows how Neville fights, his strength, his weaknesses. At least enough to extrapolate from that fight."
James couldn't help but agree. It was a bold move, reckless, by both of them. If the boy was the Heir of Slytherin, his daddy dearest would be sorely disappointed if his son was sorted into Gryffindore.
"Witnesses say he approached Neville without his wand drawn," said Kingsley, " That makes me doubt that the boy was really after Neville; it seems as if he was on his way to do something else and just - I don't know – ran into him."
"What else could the boy have been doing? Surely not his Christmas shopping," countered Gideon.
"If what Kingsley is saying is true, then maybe the boy was trying to send a message. Have you answered his letters, Albus?"
"His reasons do not matter to us," rang out Dumbledore's voice, "he has crossed a line in attacking Neville. We must prevent the boy from accosting Neville again – No matter the cost."
James frowned and McGonagall sat even more stiffly on her chair.
"Albus?" asked Lily, speaking for the first time tonight, "May…May I read the letters?" James looked at her questioningly, but she ignored him as she retrieved the letters from Albus's outstretched hand.
Lily silently read the letters. You promised me...protected by the blood of loved ones...death-another adventure...farther than any other wizard, James read over her shoulder. James absently wondered what it all meant. It was so vague.
"Albus…" Sirius began, "when you say no matter the cost….do you mean…"
Albus interlaced his fingers and nodded gravely. "My dear boy, I am afraid so."
"Surely there is another way Albus, he is just a boy…" sighed McGonagall. Molly nodded in agreement.
"I have to agree with McGonagall," said Remus. "He deserves time in Azkaban, not …not death; no matter what atrocities he has committed...maybe even rehabilitation, he's young." Give it to Remus to find a way to remain optimistic.
"Atrocities that may be only misunderstandings in the grand scheme of things," Kingsley mumbled to himself. Sirius shifted slightly in his seat.
"Remus," Albus sighed, "the boy is simply too powerful to be in Azkaban. If he truly wished it, he could escape quite easily."
"I don't think he wants anything to do with Neville," stated James as he looked up from the letters, "All he states in these letters is that he wishes to speak with you. Perhaps Kingsley is right. He ran into Neville on accident and dealt with the situation as he was taught -"
"James, the boy was sent to kill Professor – sorry – Albus. Of course he'd 'like to speak with him!" said Emmeline.
"He calls himself 'H' in these letters; we should call him that too. It's better than 'the boy' at any rate," Lily interrupted, "And maybe he really does only wish to speak to you, Prof- Albus!"
James felt as if they were missing something big, something that would connect all the dots. His wife grabbed her bag and stood abruptly. He glanced at Sirius; he was staring at the floor.
"I cannot be a part of this group if you are willing to advocate the murder of underage wizards – killer or not. Or have you forgotten that you're training Neville to be a killer too?" she snapped.
"Lily-" began Albus
"No! I revoke my membership from the Order of the Phoenix. Good day." Lily twirled around and walked out of the oval room. James looked at the shocked faces around him before nodding towards Dumbledore and following his wife out the oak door.
"Lily, he's a killer! If it comes down to it-"
"Him or Neville-"
"-one dark wizard to replace another-"
James did his best to ignore the swaying words of his friends.
"It isn't right James. He's manipulating us -"
"I know Lily. Let's go home, we can talk to Kingsley and Remus about it after the meeting is over." James let out a little sigh, which turned into a puff of mist in the cold air.
Lily looked dubiously at James. "I don't want to just -"
"I know Lily. I don't either." James' mind wandered to Lily's attempts to save Severus. She always wanted to save people. She had some saving people complex. It was endearing though, her ability to see the good in people, to never give up on them. Speaking of Severus... he was suspiciously quiet in that room. He didn't dare voice it, not at the moment.
"I only want the truth, James -I'll find it too. Dumbledore, he…" Lily said as she picked invisible lint off of her scarf.
James smiled crookidly. "I know, Lily. They know, too."
"But they don't really know."
James looked at his wife. "Neither do we."
Harry ducked into a shadow, behind a garbage can, and pressed himself against the cold and damp brick body ached and he felt weak and clammy. He was losing more blood. He pressed his arm against his stomach. It self sticky and wet.
He could hear the heavy footsteps approaching. He held his breath and sat still in the darkness.
Outside of the alley entrance they paused for a beat before moving on, their heavy footsteps trailed away.
"Hell….lost 'im again…."
"Black says 'e saw 'im leavin' Diagon Alley," stated Travers as he put a mirror into his pocket. He walked up next to Rabastan. He pulled his jacket – part of his disguise – closer to his body to protect himself from the bitter wind, "said 'e was injured righ' good."
Rabastan nodded. "Then we had better watch his hideout. It'll be easy to snag him if he's injured badly enough."
The two men walked quickly toward their destination, a large, gloomy orphanage where the boy was staying. Really, they had Rosier to thank for this discovery.
They had been scouring the entire wizard and Muggle world for anything about the boy, but found nothing. At least, not until Rosier happened upon the boy in a coffee shop. Rosier then followed the boy, always keeping a safe distance, to what appeared to be his home. Upon further inspection he found that it was an orphanage. That, they figured, was why there was so little paper work about the boy – he was a muggleborn orphan. That had been the only big lead they received. They learned nothing of importance after that, at least that's what everyone besides Black thought. Black was under the assumption that knowing the boy's routines, what he ate, who he was writing to, would help them in the long run. They figured that Black was better at this kind of thing than they were, always had been too, so they did as he told them – memorized everything humanly possible about the boy.
Rabastan and Travers sat down on the heavy metal bench outside the brick building.
"D'you think Black's got some kinda of plan 'e's not tellin' us 'bout?" asked Travers as he lit up a cigarette.
"Of course he does!" scoffed Rabastan. He waved his hand in the air in an attempt to push the cigarette smoke out of his face. "Black always has a plan."
Both men sat quietly in thought, Travers occasionally tapping the ash of off his cigarette, looking out over the dreary street. Soon, a blue-clad figure walked limped them, holding his stomach tightly, and through the orphanage doors. It had been the boy.
Travers smushed his cigarette butt into the ground with his shoe and discreetly pulled the mirror out of his pocket. He tapped it with his wand, whispering Black's name. Black's face appeared in the mirror.
"Yes, Travers?" he asked, clearly annoyed with the interruption.
"The boy is 'ere. What should we do?" asked Travers. Rabastan leaned over his shoulder and looked down at Regulus, awaiting orders.
"Wait until he leaves, then contact me and follow him."
"Right," Travers nodded and cut off the communication before slipping the mirror back into his pocket. Now all they had to do was wait.
They waited a long time, they sky was now a crimson color and the moon was just beginning to appear. Travers, who fell asleep, was nudged in the face by Rabastan's elbow. Startled, Travers jumped up and began let out yelp, but was silenced by a glare from Rabastan.
"SH! He's leaving!" Rabastan said in a harsh whisper.
"Well, come on then! Follow 'im!" said Travers as he began to trail after the boy, who was just turning a corner. Blood trickled down, leaving a trail of red. "We can't lose 'im! Come on!" Not that they could with the trail of blood.
Rabastan followed Travers, walking briskly. "You've got to call Regulus…"
"Ah! Right! 'Old on…." Travers pulled the mirror out, "Regulus Black."
"Yes?" inquired Regulus.
"'Not so loud! 'E's left and we're followin' 'im."
"Where at?"
"Right now we're at…." Travers looked at Rabastan for help.
"We're heading towards Vauxhall Park," stated Rabastan, looking into the two-way mirror.
"I'll meet you there." Regulus answered and, once again, abruptly ended the connection. Rabastan snorted.
A few minutes later Travers and Rabastan had followed the boy to Vauxhall Park. The boy took out his wand and did a simple Point Me spell before continuing on his way.
Travers and Rabastan waited a few moments before leaving their hidden position. They set off at a leisurely pace, as the boy had not noticed them and was not making any effort to stay hidden. He had fallen into multiple trash bins and groaned as he steadied himself against brick walls.
"He must be be really injured," Rabastan stated, "He's still bleeding." Rabastan's eyes were focused on the blood splatter on the ground, blood that they boy spit up gaggingly.
A twig snapped behind Travers, who whipped around in surprise
Regulus stared back at the pale man. "A bit jumpy aren't you? How's things been going?"
Travers let out a relieved sigh. "You scared me Black!" he whispered loudly as they started to walk once more.
"He hasn't noticed us yet, so I suppose that's good," shrugged Rabastan, answering Regulus question.
"Do you know where he's going?" asked Regulus.
"No. He's fairly innjured. Probably finding a nice secluded place to die."
"Well then, think it's about time we let him know we're following him," Regulus said with a smirk. Neither Travers nor Rabastan questioned him; they knew he had a plan.
Shortly after making their tracking of the boy more obvious, by doing things like knocking over trashcans and sniggering loudly when the boy tripped on the pavement, the boy began to try and shake off his followers.
The Death Eaters closed the distance between them and the boy, making the boy cast furtive glances back towards them and quicken his step, lumbering forward. He was fast, despite the blood left across the pavement. He would be very fast if he weren't injured, hard to keep up with. Every so often he would weave in and out of an alley and the men would act as if they had lost him before fading back into the darkness and continuing to stalk the boy unnoticed.
Regulus's plan centered on wearing the boy's nerves down, and surely this game of cat and mouse would.
The boy ducked into another alley way. The three men walked towards the opening, Travers sighing theatrically and adding a "We lost 'm again," for good measure. They paused at the mouth of the alley, grinning slyly at each other before moving on. They waited in the shadows for the boy to reemerge.
Harry strained his ears against the eerie silence that made more noise than he thought possible. It rung in his ears. It had been five minutes since the men following him left.
He poked his head out of the alley and looked up and down the street. It was all clear. He was almost to the hospital. But his legs started to falter under him and greay edges tugged at his vision. He was losing too much blood too quickly.
Harry walked to the edge of the sidewalk and stuck his wand out in front of him, calling the Knight Bus.
The double-decker bus popped into existence right in front of him. Harry pulled his hood further over his face, hiding him in darkness. A man Harry had never seen before began Stan Shunpike's usual spiel about the bus. Harry paid his fair, stated his destination, and walked onto the bus, sitting in a seat near the back. He grasped his stomach and watched blood drip onto the seat.
A cloaked figure sat down next to him, and Harry's heart leapt to his throat.
"Who are you?" asked the boy nervously. Regulus was slightly surprised that the boy the Dark Lord feared so much was so….low class and uncouth. And that accent - dear lord was the boy from Surrey? There were no wizarding family's there, he knew that. The sound of the words falling from the boys mouth, and the nagging feeling the boy was a Mudblood, made Regulus want to vomit.
"Well?" snapped the boy, interrupting Regulus's thoughts.
Regulus let his hood drop and watched silently as the boy seemed to choke on air before whispering 'Sirius' so quietly that he thought he must have misheard.
"How did you- I thought – dead-another - stupid mutt," the boy muttered incoherently, blood dribbling down his mouth. Regulus just nodded politely, letting the boy ramble.
"I missed you, Sirius."
So the boy did know Sirius. Regulus smiled reassuringly, the way he always saw his brother do. Inwardly he was disgusted at his uncanny resemblance to his treacherous brother. He could use this, along with the boys shocked state, to his advantage. Regulus had always known that he and his brother looked alike. If he could keep up a charade as Sirius long enough then he could get some useful information out of the boy.
"I missed you too."
The boy smiled. "You look good - still kinda skinny and sick," Regulus frowned.
"So do you. Neville got me. Defodio."
The boy would die without intervention. He knew a far amount of healing spells. He always wanted to be a healer, and his Uncle was one.
"Let me see," he said. It wasn't a question. He pulled the boys shirt up surveying the damage. It was deep. A creative use of the spell. He didn't think Longbottom has it in him. He didn't have any potions with him, but did his best to stop the bleeding and rebandaged the wound. He didn't want to close it yet kest the bleeding continue internally. This would at least keep the boy alive until the Dark Lord could see him.
The boy sighed and quickly changed subjects, "Was it you following me, Snuffles?" the boy grinned.
Snuffles? Regulus let out a bark of laughter, the laughter that haunted his dreams and rang in his ears. "Who else? Glad to see you were on your toes though, even with that hole in you."
"Yeah…just like Moody says, 'Constant vigilance'."
Regulus nodded, as if remembering some particularly poignant moment with Moody. Regulus wasn't really. He was still contemplating the nickname Snuffles. So the boy knew Mad Eye Moody, too? Then he must have some alliance with Dumbledore.
"Listen Sirius," the boy paused. Regulus looked at him intently, silently urging him to continue. "Well…I guess you aren't going to believe anything I tell you….but….I need help. The Aurors -"
Regulus ruffled the boy's hair. The boy was giving him a perfect opportunity! "Doesn't matter what happened, does it? You know I'll always help you, no matter what."
Regulus watched as the tension slowly drained out of the boy's shoulders. "Yeah…yeah."
"Look, lets say we get off this bus and we can head to my place….and chat about whatever's got you so antsy."
The boy nodded and stood to pull the stop string. The bus hurtled to a halt, sending the other occupants rolling about. Regulus and the boy stepped off of the bus and into the dark, wet street somewhere in the county of Berkshire.
"Right then," said Regulus as he cracked his knuckles – a habit his mother still reprimanded him for – and extended his arm to the boy, "I'll apparate us from here."
The boy grabbed a hold of Regulus's arm. Regulus turned on the spot, whisking the boy with him through the black tube-like experience of apparition.
Harry knew he must be hallucinating. Sirius, his dead godfather, was standing next to him in a lush forest. Maybe he really did die, drowned by Inferi.
"Where are we?" Harry asked as a feeling of unease settled into his stomach.
"In the forest. This way," Sirius said sharply, as if it was obvious. He started down the path with long, quick strides. Harry trotted after him, his stomach still aching and his head still dizzy.
Funnily enough, Harry felt as if, somehow, Sirius was a cheap imitation of his godfather. Sure, this imitation looked a lot healthier, but it wasn't the same. Not once had he called Harry by his name, or playfully punched Harry in the arm. He was not quiet as carefree or happy, much more cool-headed and businesslike, but he still had the jaunty step and air of confidence. Harry couldn't repress the niggling suspicion that this was an actor, someone sent to unhinge him from reality and lure him into a trap.
Yet, try as he might to call the imposter out, Harry could not. He latched onto this unknown man as if it truly was Sirius returned from the dead, hoping that his only family really was back, that – Harry bumped into Sirius's back. They had reached the edge of the forest
Sirius seemed to start sneering at him before quickly turning the ugly expression into a smile that did not reach his eyes. "We're here."
Harry looked at where Sirius was motioning to. Across a small field sat a familiar handsome looking manor.
"Have I – Have I been here before?" Harry asked.
Sirius furrowed his brow. "I don't think so, I just found out about it a few days ago. It was Uncle Alphard's home." Sirius shrugged and continued to walk towards the manor. Harry quickly followed.
Unease further gripped Harry as they walked through the manor. It was too empty, cold, but seemed as if someone had been living in it for some time.
"I thought you said you just got this house," Harry stated as he looked at Sirius, who raised an eyebrow.
"What makes you think otherwise?"
"Well…it's so …clean. Not at all like Grimmauld Place was," Harry trailed off as he realized how ridiculous he must have sounded. Sirius stopped next to a large cherry door and gave Harry an odd look.
"The house elves have kept it clean," he said in a tone that ended the conversation, as he allowed the heavy door to swing open and ushered Harry inside.
Harry froze at the sight before him, only faintly aware of the ominous thud created by the closing door.
Before him sat Voldemort in a regal straight backed chair, Nagini draped around his shoulders. Masked figures encircled Harry. Sirius strode past Harry to stand in the open position at Voldemort's side.
No one spoke. The only noise was that of the ticking grandfather clock. Voldemort stroked Nagini's head lazily, bored. At last Voldemort spoke, his icy voice chilling Harry. "Good work Regulus."
"Thank you, my Lord."
It was in that moment that Harry was both horrified, and ready to kick himself for not following his instincts. He had known, known, that there was something decidedly off about Sirius, thought that he had been an actor sent to cripple him. He had known that the dead do not come back, but he threw all rational thought out the window when confronted with the face of his 'godfather'. Worst of all, Harry noted as he searched for an escape, he allowed himself to be lured into a trap. He watched the imposter whisper something into Voldemorts ear, causing a feral lip-less smile to cross his face.
"Have a seat, boy." Voldemort commanded, transfiguring a chair and placing it beside Harry. When Harry made no move to take a seat Voldemort grinned lazily. "No? But I must insist – Crucio!"
Voldemort shot the spell so quickly that Harry didn't have time to react. His body felt as if it was on fire, every muscle burning as the miniscule fibers snapped and contorted beyond repair. Voldemort lifted the curse and Harry saw little white lights dancing in his grayed vision. He swayed slightly, and rested his hand on the back of the chair in order to maintain his balance.
"See? I think you need to sit." Said Voldemort, his voice filled with mock concern.
"No." Harry said, his voice coming out louder and stronger than he expected. He grabbed for his wand but caught only air. Harry looked down at his pocket to see if he really had missed his wand. There was empty space where his wand should have been.
Voldemort laughed as Harry felt a sudden jolt of pure panic. "Missing something?"
Harry's breath was raspy as he slowly looked up at Voldemort. Beside him Regulus - if it truly was him, hadn't Sirius told him that Regulus was killed? - stood with a feral smile on his face, twirling Harry's wand in his fingers.
Harry lunged toward the man, his hand outstretched, knowing he had no chance. Regulus stepped lightly to the side, dodging Harry, and sent a cutting hex at Harry's face.
Harry fell to the floor, his glasses slipped down his face, which now oozed blood. Regulus kicked him in his side, making his ribs emit a rather disturbing crunching noise.
Above him, Regulus said lightly, "May I suggest you take a seat?" A quite laughter echoed through the room.
When Harry did not move he felt two hands grip his arms and pull him up. Once Harry was back on his feet Regulus kicked Harry towards the chair. Harry stumbled and fell next to the chair.
"My, my," began Voldemort, "It seems you have bled on my floor. Crucio."
Harry could taste blood in his mouth as he bit down hard on his cheek to keep from screaming in pain. He decided that he did not like the taste – it was as if he had eaten a handful of pennies – before he blacked out.
Savage grunted as he watched Dawlish pinch the bridge of his nose and Mustang sigh heavily. Neville wasn't telling them anything.
"Listen, Neville. You need to tell us what happened." Said Inspector Mustang.
"I am telling you what happened; you just don't believe me!" Snapped Neville.
Mustang stood, his hands pressed flat against the steel table. "You're saying that The Shadow did nothing. Did not attack you; did not fight back; just ran away. Obviously you are hiding something."
"I swear – I told you everything. I want to leave now." Neville crossed his arms.
"You can't -"
"Actually – sir – he can. According to Cygnus Black, Neville is free from any trauma and we cannot, legally, hold Neville against his wish…" Dawlish stated slyly as he flipped through a manila folder. Mustang glared at Dawlish before nodding.
"Fine. You can leave." Mustang grabbed the folder from Dawlish's hands before walking out of the barren room.
Savage moved from his place against the wall. "So, now that the bad man is gone, are you gonna talk?"
Neville looked darkly at Savage. "You've been here. You've already heard what I've got to say."
Dawlish raised an eyebrow. "That's interesting. I swore I saw Shadow talking to you…"
Neville's face paled.
"Neville, Neville, Neville," began Savage, "the more you tell us the easier it will be to catch and put this hoodlum where he belongs. With your full account he'll have no chance in court. Think of all the lives you'll be saving by striping Voldemort of his number one man."
Neville smoothed down the collar of his shirt and leaned his elbows against the cool tabletop. "Well…"
