Something Interesting

As Sirius lay as though catatonic, Dumbledore contacted Artifex and asked if he would help. Judging from the cheerful pitch to Dumbledore's tone afterwards, Artifex had replied in the affirmative. Sirius felt a familiar dread steal through him, filling him with a fear so concentrated he thought he might scream at the pure terror of it. He didn't want to go to the coven and meet vampires he knew he would be afraid of; he didn't want to be embarrassed by Artifex again and most of all he was petrified of running into Ambrose a second time. He knew he had no choice in the matter however; he doubted he could even stand unsupported.

A quiet popping sound and a calming voice alerted Sirius to Artifex's arrival and he felt his muscles tense with a renewed fear, despite the relaxed tone the High Vampire had adopted. He heard two pairs of footsteps draw near and managed to open his eyes enough to see Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and Artifex standing over him.

Artifex grinned, flashing his fangs at Sirius. "Tired, are you?" he asked casually, pulling back the blankets.

Sirius made a noise in the back of his throat which was the most he could muster.

Artifex threw his head back and laughed loudly, the sound reaching for the ceiling and twirling around Sirius's soul, sheltering him and comforting him somehow.

"I could be offended," he said, eyes glittering. "Can you stand?"

Sirius moaned again and tried to move his heavy legs. The movements were feeble but they were definitely movements.

"Excellent. Do you need a hand?" Artifex leant forwards without waiting for a reply and lifted Sirius from the bed as though he was a rag doll. Sirius wobbled unsteadily as Artifex set him on his feet and tried to move away from the deliciously sweet scent of Artifex's skin and breath but only succeeded in falling. The High Vampire grabbed him around the waist and laughed quietly in his ear.

"Will you be quite alright?" Madam Pomfrey asked, gazing at Artifex in wonder.

Artifex handed Sirius to Dumbledore and turned to the nurse, his eyes wide and bright.

"My dear lady," he whispered, taking a step forwards and taking her hand in his, "I can assure you he will be fine." He then lifted her hand to his face and inhaled deeply before kissing her fingers and turning away, leaving the nurse looking rather star struck. He bundled Sirius into his arms and carried him to the fire. "He'll be back soon Albus," he said over his shoulder before stepping into the flames and disappearing.

He stepped out of a grate in a wall, next to a tall iron gate tipped with spikes. "It's just decoration," he told Sirius, setting him upright and helping him towards the imposing gates. "We can keep mortals out without such amenities."

Sirius took a deep breath and gathered his energy. "What about immortals?" he asked weakly.

Artifex chuckled, waving his hand at the gates which parted instantly. "They're a different matter," he said indifferently.

Sirius didn't think he could say anything else so he allowed himself to be supported up the long drive and towards a dark castle he wasn't able to see properly due to the angle of his head.

Tall oaken doors swung back as Artifex approached, revealing a long corridor carpeted in red with torch brackets secured to the walls. The candles inside them threw ominous shadows over the uneven stone walls but Sirius wasn't watching the shadows; his eyes had been immediately drawn to the vampires standing along the walls, waiting for him and Artifex.

"Artifex," one of them said. "Ambrose isn't best pleased, he-"

"Caius, please," Artifex said quietly.

"But-"

"No," Artifex said firmly. "Sirius needs sleep. He does not need trouble from that damned fledgling of mine."

Sirius frowned; his thought processes were slow and foggy but he was sure he should be listening to this, was sure that significant information was being exchanged.

"Artifex you surely cannot mean-" a deep voice said from down the corridor. Sirius slumped against Artifex in terror, turning his head away from the new arrival and tensing instinctively.

"You brought him here?" Ambrose hissed. Suddenly he was in front of Artifex and Sirius could feel his presence, could smell the blood of a recent hunt and could hear the malice in the snide voice.

Sirius felt Artifex take a deep breath as though to calm himself.
"Ambrose. You created him. You know the laws. He belongs here," Artifex stated simply.

"He does not belong here," Ambrose barked and Sirius found that the floor had suddenly disappeared from beneath him. He was dangling a foot in the air, Ambrose's fist entwined in the cloth of his shirt front. Sirius gasped as he found Ambrose's face inches from his own and tried to twist away but his tired body slumped with the effort. "So weak," Ambrose sneered.

"Ambrose, let him be," Artifex growled, his voice so menacing that Ambrose released Sirius in surprise. Sirius dropped to the floor like a discarded toy and lay there, shaking with shock.

Ambrose turned to stalk away but Artifex was blocking the way in a flash. "You're not getting out of this," he snarled. "He is your fledgling; it is your responsibility to ensure that he sleeps. Do it. Now."

Ambrose's face twisted with anger before he turned stiffly to Sirius, his face a picture of pure loathing. "Come then, fledgling," he snapped, bending and grasping the back of Sirius's shirt. He dragged the boy to his feet and shoved him forwards. "This way."

Sirius half walked, half tripped down the corridor, Ambrose striding behind him all the while, grabbing him as he hit the floor and righting him again but refusing to be of any more help than that.

"This one," Ambrose said shortly, turning towards a dark wood door set in the wall to their right. He pushed open the door and picked Sirius up, dumping him unceremoniously into a coffin that stood on a pedestal in the middle of the room.

Sirius yelled in fright and twisted away, his fear lending him strength as he fought to get out but Ambrose pushed him down and held him by the shoulders.

"Sleep, fledgling," he snarled before straightening and letting go of Sirius' shoulders. Sirius made one last attempt to rise but Ambrose shoved him back and slammed the lid closed with a furious bang and all Sirius knew was darkness.

With a muffled gasp Sirius's eyes snapped open and he slammed his fists into the wooden boards at his sides, quaking with terror. For a second he had no idea where he was and panic threatened to overcome rational thought processes but as he ran his hands over the silken surfaces that enclosed him, memories came flooding back with a startling speed. He forced his breathing to slow and placed his hands at his sides, ordering himself to calm down.

He knew where he was; Ambrose's coffin. Now he was thinking clearly he realised he could smell his creator; the scent was everywhere, trying to engulf him. As panic welled in his chest again, Sirius placed his hands against the lid of the coffin, fingers splayed, and pushed. The lid turned out to be lighter than Sirius expected, or perhaps he was merely stronger that he had ever dreamed, and it shot off of the box and crashed to the floor with a loud bang that rocketed through Sirius's skull.

He winced before scrambling out of the red-lined coffin and landing on the stone floor more gracefully than the lid before him. Sirius quickly scanned the room, noting the desk against the wall. He wandered over to it and picked up the yellowed parchment lying on the surface. The elegant script that covered half of one side was clearly a letter; apparently Ambrose had been called away before he could complete it.

Sirius could barely make out the words and decided that the letter was unimportant and so discarded it and hurried away.

The corridor he recognised from before his sleep was now deserted and there were fewer torches lighting the stone walls and lush red carpet. Sirius debated for a second, wondering if he should take the left or the right. He knew that the left led to the front door and probable safety but the right led somewhere new, somewhere Sirius had never before explored. Another half second of thought made up his mind and he took the right, walking deeper into the castle and wondering if he was being extraordinarily unintelligent.

Several doors lined the corridor, set into the walls with large keyholes, the kind that can be found on church doors. Sirius wondered briefly if Artifex carried the keys around in his pocket and fought the hysterical urge to laugh. He found the lack of people in the caste unsettling but he pushed the feeling away, figuring they were all out hunting together and that he was safer if they were gone anyway.

Sirius tried a few of the doors but all of them were locked and he gave up eventually, deciding instead to walk around until he found Something Interesting. Something Interesting was a concept that James had thought of and it was generally called into play during a dare, when Remus was commissioned to sneak into the staff room and listen for Something Interesting, or when Sirius was sent into McGonagall's office to bring back Something Interesting. It was a game to the four boys. As it was, Something Interesting appeared in the form of a wooden door, identical to the others he had passed only he could hear things from beyond this one; the low hum of vampire voices, too quiet for human ears.

Sirius frowned at the door, memorising the patterns and shadows in the wood, committing them to memory; he knew, somehow, that this room was inexplicably important. From the sounds he could hear from inside, he gathered that a meeting was taking place. Before he could press his ear to the door to listen however, a familiar voice called order and silence fell.

Then, to Sirius's utter surprise, he was addressed from within.

'Sirius, you may come in.'

Sirius gasped and leapt away from the door as though burned. He heard the voice again, talking to somebody else and then a harsher voice that sent chills down Sirius's spine as he backed into the wall behind him, footsteps sounded, growing louder as they neared Sirius who stiffened in fear; he knew exactly who was coming. The door was flung open to reveal the figure of Ambrose, dressed in a thick black travelling cloak and wearing a scowl.

'Fledgling. In!' he barked. Sirius stared at him for several seconds before whirling around and starting to sprint. He heard a laugh and suddenly could feel stone arms locking him in a prisoner's embrace.

"Come now," Ambrose said smoothly, gripping the back of Sirius's neck and dragging him forwards. Sirius felt once again the desolate feeling that struggling was futile, only this time he accepted that and allowed himself to be pulled into the room and shoved into a chair.

"Sirius, welcome," Artifex greeted him from the head of the table. He was wearing much the same dress as Ambrose, only it was accompanied by a smile rather than a sneer.

Sirius gritted his teeth and shrank back into his chair.

"This is Sirius?" a short man sitting beside Sirius exclaimed. "The Sirius?" The man reached forward and grabbed Sirius's hand, shaking it vigorously. "Pleasure to meet you," he babbled excitedly, "Artifex was telling us about you, about your fight. Do you know, once I had a fight with a werewolf, when I was only about 50 years a vampire. Only, I fought rather better than you seem to have," he said, noting the faint scar along Sirius's jaw and the lines across his hands. "I remember, he swiped at me, but I ducked and he-"

"Tacitus," Artifex interrupted gently but firmly. "Can we get back to matters of a more political nature?"

"Matters. Political. Nature. Yes, right, of course," Tacitus said quickly. "We're having a meeting you see," he said, turning to Sirius.

"I gathered," Sirius muttered, shrinking away from the gazes of at least thirty vampires seated at the long table.

"Yes, there was one memorable meeting, in 1826, which I remember clearly because that was the year Beth and I got married. It was a marvellous wedding, let me tell you. There were flowers and china patterns and suits and dresses and meals and wine and dancing and-"

"Tacitus," Artifex called.

"-guests and rings and vows and make up and-"

"Tacitus," Artifex repeated.

"-presents and music and there was this funny little man who-"

"Tacitus!" Ambrose barked sharply. Tacitus fell silent at once.

"Thank you, Ambrose," said Artifex dryly, noting the terror in Sirius's form and expression at the sound of Ambrose's voice. "Now, as you are all well aware, the minor fight between young Sirius and his werewolf friend has caused dispute among our kind and the Packs. Several of our more influential covens have suggested starting the war; however it is Cruis Gens who will have the final say. You are aware of my opinion on the matter, however I will not act without first hear your views."

"We fight," said Ambrose immediately.

"And disrupt the peace that has held for these past five centuries? No, we're better off calling truce once again," countered a blonde vampire not far from Sirius.

"No, this war has been in the making for dozens of centuries, why not start it now? We have the upper hand; we can win this!" called another.

When every vampire had had his say, Artifex turned to Sirius.

"And what is your opinion, Sirius?" he asked.

"You...you want to start a war over Remus and I?" he asked, horrified.

"Who?" Ambrose asked, quick as a flash, picking up on Sirius's slip.

"No...No one," Sirius stammered hurriedly, terrified. "I said, I said, 'over I'."

"Well that is terrible grammar," Tacitus began. "You know-"

"Tacitus, will you HUSH?" Ambrose snapped, gliding along the length of the table. He placed two fingers under Sirius's chin and forced the boy's face upward so that he could stare into Sirius's eyes. "I think you are lying," he said slowly, deliberately. "Now, tell me, Fledgling, who is 'Remus?'"

"He's no-one. I don't know him. He's like...an entity. An invisible person," Sirius babbled, thinking furiously.

Ambrose smiled cruelly and reached into his pocket, never taking his eyes from Sirius's, never removing his fingers from Sirius's chin. He placed something onto the table in front of Sirius, his eyes glinting. "Tell me, is this Remus?"

Sirius, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, turned to look at the object on the table. It was a photograph, taken just before the summer, on Hogwarts grounds. It showed four students, all in Hogwarts uniform, standing arm in arm and laughing at the camera. Sirius's own face jumped out at him, laughing contentedly and gazing at the camera with his hair blowing in the slight breeze.

James was standing on his left, glasses glinting in the afternoon sun, unruly hair an explosion around his head. On Sirius's other side stood Peter, looking almost painfully happy to be included. On James's right, with Ambrose's long, pale finger obscuring half of his face was Remus, smiling awkwardly at the camera and looking peacefully at ease, his robes rippling in the same breeze that had caught Sirius's hair .

"Oh, that's...um...that's Richard," Sirius muttered, trying to wrench his eyes from his human form. He hadn't noticed the changes in himself but, staring at this blatant evidence, they were impossible to miss. His hair was now slightly longer and silkier than before, the colour two shades darker than its previous jet black so that it was now a solid, coal colour that didn't shine in the light so much, rather it had a dark glow and he was also several inches taller but it was the smaller differences that were significant; his skin, once pale but with a healthy flush high on his angular cheekbones, was now the same shade as a corpse cold in the grave and had a odd, stone-like quality about it. The way he now held himself was different, more graceful and more aware, his body always ready to fall into a crouch and his yellow eyes were alert, conscious of every movement nearby.

"Richard?" Ambrose repeated scathingly.

"Yes," said Sirius, trying not to let his voice shake. "Richard...Lancelot."

"Richard Lancelot?" Ambrose said, a smile curling around his lips. "Not, say, Remus Lupin?"

Sirius gasped, unable to hide his surprise at Ambrose's knowledge. "What about the others? This one," he pointed at James, "this one I recognise. James...Potter, isn't it?"

Sirius nodded, too shocked to do anything else.

"The third, I believe, is a young boy by the name of Pettigrew, correct?"

Yes," Sirius whispered, dumbstruck.

"And the fourth, of course, is yourself. All of them are in Gryffindor house, fifth year. The werewolf has an interest in Arithmancy, I believe, and he has a peculiar taste for Marmite and chocolate spread, together on a piece of bread? The Potter boy is a Chaser for your House Quidditch team and has scored more goals than any Chaser at Hogwarts for a decade. Pettigrew's parents are deceased and he lives with his aunt and uncle, correct? Friends, are they?"

"Yes they are," said Sirius, rising slightly from his seat. "And if you do anything to them-"

"Relax, Fledgling, young Potter and Pettigrew are safe," Ambrose said, eyes alight with malice.

"What about Remus?" Sirius demanded through clenched teeth.

"The werewolf's safety I cannot guarantee," Ambrose continued, relishing in Sirius's fury. "With a war looming, there could be...accidents," he hinted darkly.

"Ambrose, leave him be," Artifex ordered sharply. "A truce will be called," he added, raising his voice slightly. "There will be no war."

Ambrose sent the High Vampire a murderous look but strode back to his place in defeat.

"The next matter we must deal with is, of course, Sirius's learning," Artifex continued.

"I'm doing fine at Hogwarts, thanks," Sirius muttered.

"Hogwarts?" Tacitus exclaimed. "I went to Hogwarts. Best years of my life they were. On my first day, I had Transfiguration, Charms and Potions. And on the second day, I had Herbology, Charms again, History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts. On the third day we had flying and the broom I was riding was just terrible. It swayed and slowed and dipped and turned and -"

"Tacitus," said Artifex. "Now is NOT the time."

"Yes, right, okay, sorry, I mean, I just get carried away. Do you remember that time when I was talking about that house I was having built and I talked about the bricks and the windows and the foundations and the colours and the layout and the rooms and the gardens and-"

"Tacitus."

"Yes?"
"You're doing it again."

"Oh, sorry. Really, I'm shutting up now. You won't hear another word out of me for the rest of the day. Promise. Well, maybe a few, if you ask me a question or something...maybe..."

Tacitus fell silent under Ambrose's glare.

"Anyway, Sirius, we do not mean your learning of school subjects. I am referring to your education concerning the laws of our kind, lessons teaching you control and demonstrations of how to use your powers."

Sirius blinked. "Oh...well, you know, I'm really fine..."

"It is compulsory," said Artifex. "Traditionally, the Creator teaches the Fledgling," he added, turning to Ambrose.

"No," said Ambrose sharply. "I refuse. I will not teach him."

"Ambrose-" Artifex began.

"NO!" Ambrose said loudly before turning and storming form the room.

Artifex pursed his lips and sighed. "I was afraid this would happen," he muttered.

"What will be done?" asked an educated-looking man, glancing at Sirius. "The boy

cannot be left untrained, but it is clear nothing is going to convince Ambrose."

There were several moments of silence during which Sirius wondered exactly what he had done to make Ambrose loathe him so, a question to which he would never receive a satisfactory answer.

"I will teach him," Artifex stated calmly.

Sirius turned to stare at the High Vampire.