Runaway
By DracoNunquamDormiens
In this chapter: Peter isn't useless, Sirius is not all there, James is freaking out, Dumbledore breaks a promise, Bella is gleeful (I'd never have thought I'd ever describe her as such, but she's as giddy as a little girl with new roller blades) and Voldemort finally gets a break (because let's have some pity on the resident dark lord).
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Part Eleven: Some Assembly Required
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Sirius was gone.
Gone.
James stared at his friend, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. He was so panicked, his hands were prickling like they'd go numb.
His Dad and Angus were hovering.
"What?"
"He's gone!" he gasped out. Sirius' hand twitched again. He was still breathing, but he just wasn't there.
"Are ye sure?"
"Yes!"
The two older wizards exchanged a look, which couldn't have been more dissimilar: Coop was panicking much like James was; Angus seemed intrigued.
"Son—"
"I don't want to hear it." James' hands had gone numb, and the rest of him was following suit.
For weeks, he had kept up a front. One of strength, for Sirius, so he could lean on him; one of optimism, for his parents, so they'd not lose faith; one for the world, so they'd stop looking for his brother. All of this had been hard and exhausting, but worth it.
James had had hope.
But now…? The floor had been yanked away from underneath, the one thing he'd not stopped thinking about, the one thing he feared the most had happened.
"James—" his father started. James glared at him.
"No! You don't get to tell me," he shot back. "You don't get to say it'll get better! Don't you get it? He's gone!"
"He's not dead."
"He got hit by the Soul-Sucking Curse! Twice!" James was beside himself with sheer loss. That lump in his throat felt like it was made of concrete. "When he came back, he was dying, he was in pain, he even stopped breathing at random — but he was still here! He was him, this—" James gestured at the bed, "this isn't him! This, is just empty, and Poops said hours ago she couldn't treat him." Hours ago. James wrenched his eyes shut to stop crying, but it was useless. "Hours ago. He's been gone for hours. And now I'll have to tell Remus and Peter that he's gone, that I got their hopes up for nothing, because he just had to relive that hell, and now I lost him again!"
He stormed out, but he didn't get far. There was a constricting feeling in his chest, so strong that he couldn't get a breath in. His knees gave way in the hallway, which is where he stayed for what felt an eternity, but was probably just a few minutes; when he finally wiped his eyes and tried to get the wheezing under control, he noticed that someone was standing in front of him.
It was Nina.
James thought she'd gone to Hogwarts.
She didn't say anything, she just offered him a hand up, and helped him all the way to his father's study.
"No," James croaked. "Remus…" he wasn't ready to shatter his friend's hopes yet again.
"Isn't here," Nina finished for him. "He and Dumbledore went to Hogwarts. Peter barricaded himself in the kitchen. I've been in your dad's study for ages."
"Weren't you helping Poo— er, Pomfrey?" James asked. His breath was coming in hitched, shuddering gasps, but at least his eyes were dry. Outwardly at least, he looked like he was keeping it together. Sort of.
"I did," she answered, in the same quiet tone. "But then she had to stay because a boy knocked himself out with a Beater's club in the hallway, so I came back here."
She sat down next to James on a sofa, looking at the Pensieve with an expression of utter sadness, a mirror to James' own.
James, for his part, was still in shock, but that was slowly being eaten away and replaced by an ever-increasing hollowness, an ache so all-encompassing that nothing would matter once it took over completely.
Nina handed him a glass of water.
"Thanks," James mumbled.
"He thinks the world of you, you know." The statement hung in the air for a few moments, during which James processed the information.
"You know him."
"Yes," she replied. "My parents were killed by Voldemort," came next. She had a quiet, kind voice, but it did nothing to offset the blow of her words. "I tried to help them, but…"
"I know the feeling." He was feeling it now.
"I'm sorry." She shook her head, contrite. "Here I am, trying to make you feel better, but I'm blurting stuff and managing the opposite. It's just— my uncle Angus took me in during the summer. I met Sirius then, Dal Riada is like a stone's throw away from Black Lodge. And," Nina added, "I was feeling terrible, and he helped me loads, through… you know."
"He does that," James responded. It came out hollow, and was he even using the correct tense here? He didn't know.
"He helped me by telling me how you helped him."
James hadn't expected that.
"What?"
"He said you saved his life when he was little, and have done so every day since."
"But… I didn't... I haven't… I don't understand. You're talking about Sirius, right? Has a big mouth, loves motorbikes, terrible at playing the Muggle guitar…"
"Avid fan of Doctor Who, staunchly defends the view that dogs are the best animals to ever exist, and insists that Puddlemere are better than the Harpies, even when he sees them losing before his eyes." Nina laughed a little, and to his own surprise, so did James. "Yes, that Sirius Black." She sobered a second later, giving James a small encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Look, I don't know how to help you fix this, but I'm sure going to help you wherever I can."
"Nobody knows how to help," James replied. "Not old Angus, or Dumbledore, or my Dad… not even my Mum." And he realised, that was what scared him the most. "And I don't know… I don't know what to do. He's there but not there, and…" And James was close to losing it on top of it all.
"Well, no, I don't suppose that he would be," Nina conceded logically, gesturing at the Pensieve. "I'm guessing a huge chunk of him is still sitting over there."
Was it dribble on the shirt day?
James closed his eyes wearily. It was all the stress that made him miss the obvious. It had to be.
"In there?"
Nina shrugged.
"If he's not in his body..."
James remembered how his Dad had said Sirius hadn't wanted to leave the Pensieve, what if…?
What if he hadn't left?
"Oh… Right. Gah, I'm such an idiot."
"You're allowed," his Dad's voice said from the door. "If not now, when can you be an idiot without consequence?"
"But—"
"Nobody expects you to fix him all by yourself, James." Coop looked gravely at his son. "We are all trying our best."
"I don't care what anyone expects. I just want this to be over."
"Well, it's not. Not yet, but I reckon that we still have a fighting chance."
James approached the Pensieve, where Sirius' thoughts were swimming about. What if…? What if he'd never left?
"I'm going to go look for him. If he's not in there, we don't have a chance in hell."
He plunged a hand in, before he thought better of it.
.
.
Her Master, her beloved Dark Lord, whom she had admired for years, had a plan.
It was a good plan, as plans went, but it was too… Conservative. Bellatrix didn't do conservative. She didn't even like the word. So sure, it was perhaps the thing to do to keep this war going; but Ministry workers? Weren't there enough of those already in her Master's service? Wasn't it laughably easy to sway them to the Cause lately?
Yes, it was.
She was fed up with it. So, she decided she'd do some freelancing. All in the name of the Cause.
Her Master would be very pleased if this worked out. And it would. She never failed., after all.
Never.
Well except for the matter with her baby cousin over Christmas. He was her only failure to date. But then, he had been that and more for over ten years. Her Master hadn't even been mad about it; even he recognised the Black superiority. Which was her own as well.
So, maybe she couldn't deliver baby cousin Sirius to her Master… but she sure as hell could prepare his revenge on those Potter blood traitors.
She had seen to Cornelius Fudge, as instructed, who was laughably easy to sway; getting him to help the Cause by clamouring for Sirius' capture hadn't even taken any real effort, as he was on that boat already.
So, she had time to kill, and she decided to spend it in Godric's Hollow.
She cast a simple glamour spell on herself and visited the town, not bothering to hide or even be a little stealthy. She was living a charmed life, she was certain. As long as she was true to the Cause, as long as the Cause was true to her, nothing and nobody could touch her.
Bellatrix strolled through the frozen graveyard, watching the insolent Muggle-loving villagers go about their day-to-day activities; some were wizards and witches, but others…
Bellatrix' lips curled up in a sneer.
Muggles.
They would be the first to die.
Sadly, not tonight.
Bellatrix sniffed the air, grimacing right after. The stories were right; Muggles stank.
Soon. Soon that stench would become the stench of death, which all living creatures shared once their lives were snuffed out; if these Muggle-loving fools wanted equality, that was the only kind she was willing, nay, eager to provide.
Bellatrix turned her attention to the manor house on the hilltop.
Godric's Hall was bathed in sunlight, protected by a host of protective wards, Muggle-repelling charms, Dark Reverters, Glamours (probably so nobody would see what those blood traitors were up to, sitting on their stupid broomsticks half the time).
A lot of care and generations of reinforcements had gone into giving the old manor and its grounds the most common, ordinary air.
If they got with the times, the Potters would have it ever so much easier.
But of course Godric's damned offspring had, over two thousand years, only been too happy to play along, to let those stinking Muggles thrive in freedom and believe that they ruled the world, when they should be their overlords. Take their birthright to the actual potential it had. Instead, they hid. They masked their doings. They tried to blend in.
It was sickening.
Bella swallowed back her righteous anger, and pulled out her wand.
Nobody could single-handedly tear down the hosts of wards encircling the manor, but she could, with luck, find the proverbial chink in the armour.
So she found herself a spot that was just outside the wards so as not to trigger them; secluded, so none of the wizards and witches going about their business would spot her; and hidden from view of the manor, to hide the flashes of light given off by her detection spells.
She glanced at the polished windows of the house. While she (and everyone else) had been fooled that night when Sirius had escaped from them last, and while most of the Inner Circle argued, with more logic than she would have credited them, that her baby cousin had been secreted away to Hogwarts or some other safe house, she was sure that the brat was inside.
The Potters would never let him out of their sight, they loved him too much to just let him go, even if that was the smart thing to do. Anyone with sense would have let him die or gotten rid of him. But the Potters lacked sense, everything around them was proof of that.
The fools wore their hearts on their sleeves, and that would be their undoing.
Heartened by this thought, and by many others, chiefly involving what other organs and appendages the Potters would wear on their sleeves, robes, and coat tails once she was done with them, Bella set to work.
.
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"What now?"
James was floating in fog. Next to him, his Dad was giving him a tense look.
"Give me a sec." James focused, straining to reach out, not to a memory, but to the real thing.
When he felt a tug, he grabbed his Dad's arm, which was good because an instant later the tug became a yank, and they were suddenly pulled through what felt like a blender.
They landed on wet grass. James was initially blinded by sunlight shining on the Hogwarts grounds. They were near the lake, and James felt a strangely heady breeze ruffle his hair.
"I can't believe you did that!" he heard a familiar voice somewhere behind him; one that was over half delighted squeak and years from maturing into the slightly deeper one he now — thankfully — had developed.
James turned, to see himself and Sirius, brooms over their shoulders and grinning from ear to ear, walking across the grounds.
He remembered this day well; it was that once, shortly after starting their Second Year, when they'd tried out for the Quidditch team and had been surprised to secure spots on it.
"I thought she'd kick me out before I'd even tried out," Sirius chortled.
James remembered this too: they'd been waiting for their turns to try out for Chaser, but Cynthia McRae, the captain, had left some Beater's clubs lying around and Sirius had started fooling around with one. He'd made Beater a few moments later, even before James was picked as Chaser. Knocking out two Chasers and one Beater with a spare Quaffle when they were supposed to be flying laps to warm up had achieved that.
He tuned the memory out; he was already scanning the area to find — aha.
Sirius, his Sirius, was sitting on a knoll a little ways away, arms folded over his knees and watching their kid selves from a distance.
"Thank the heavens," his Dad muttered with relief.
"You can say that again."
"I'll get him ready out there," Coop said. "Keep him here, no matter what."
"Consider it done, Dad."
James hurried to Sirius' side, overjoyed.
"Sirius!"
"Shh." the git he had chosen as a brother waved him off without even looking at him. "I don't want to miss this."
"Shh yourself," James retorted, grinning with relief as he came to a halt next to Sirius. "I thought I'd lost you!"
"I'm not lost; I'm right here."
And I'd really like to watch that over there, so shut up already.
"What are you doing here?" James asked aloud, flopping down on the fragrant, springy grass — boy, did it smell good — next to him.
For an answer, Sirius gestured towards their kid selves.
"I meant, here, in the Pensieve."
"Dunno, when I woke up I was here. Well, not here, here, but …here."
"But we got you out."
"That's nice," was the vague comment. Sirius was completely disinterested in everything but their kid selves, who were now falling onto the grass by their favourite beech tree by the lake, making grandiose plans to play for England the instant they graduated, and to sign up for the same teams for ever and ever.
"Are you even listening?"
No.
"Sure… How's that going?" Sirius seemed riveted on what was going on over there, rather than on the present predicament.
"It's not," James answered honestly.
"Ah."
"Yuh-huh."
"Can you believe we were so… so…"
"Tiny?" James finished for him.
"Yeah. I thought I was taller than that, and we sound like…"
"Little girls," James finished for him. Sirius grinned. "I hear you." He laid back on the grass, watching his friend. "Why are we here, again?"
"It's a good memory."
"One of the best, yeah."
"Worth remembering."
"Dad figured out how to help get those spells off."
"Did he."
"He reckons." James tried to make eye contact, but Sirius was more focused watching their preteen selves daydream loudly about playing for (and winning) the Quidditch World Cup, and swearing a solemn oath (a prototype of the current Marauding Oath in force) to never be apart and win matches together until they were old and toothless (and like, thirty). "If we go now, there's still time."
"James…" Sirius sounded wistful.
"Sirius," James interrupted before he could get any further. "Why are you here?"
"Can you believe… I forgot all of... this?" Sirius finally looked at him. He looked sadder than James had ever seen him. "Once you talk about it, I remember. But the next moment, it's all gone."
"Remus is on it. And Dumbledore."
"Who?" Sirius gave him a clueless look.
"Rem— look, never mind who they are just now. I solemnly swear we'll figure this out," James told him vehemently. "It's not an easy fix, but—"
"I think I'd rather stay here."
"What? No… why?"
"I'm tired." Sirius let his chin fall on his arms. "And it's nice here."
"We don't stop when we're tired, we stop when we're done." James voice came out icy, despite himself. "Not before."
"I think it's time to stop, then, Prongs… because I'm done."
"What? You can't be."
"I'm pretty sure I am. Yeah. I think. I think I'm sure."
"Well, that's not possible. Because I'm not done yet," James reasoned. "We'll get everything figured out," he promised next. "I solemnly—"
"Stop. Please."
"But you promised—"
"I don't think I'll be keeping that promise," Sirius said quietly, then gestured at their kid selves to specify. "Or that other one. I'm... James, I'm sorry, I can't. I'm… tired."
"Poops said you won't last the night if we don't get you fixed. Is that what you want? To just give up, after everything you've done? After everything we've all done?"
Sirius lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Oh yeah, because sorry just magically rights everything. And I'm supposed to go out there, and tell Remus and Pete, sorry, he's not coming out, he's a quitter." James crossed his arms over his chest.
Sirius just shrugged.
"An oath-breaking quitter."
"If you want."
"It'll break their hearts. I told them, earlier. Like you asked. And I brought them over to see you, and now they're scrambling for a cure for you, you daft bastard, and you know them, they'll bloody well find it. They're finally daring to hope again, Padfoot!"
"Remus and Peter?"
"Yeah. Remember them?"
"A little." Sirius bit his lip now, a habit he'd gotten from James. "I think. No. Not sure."
"Look, don't worry about that — I'll remind you. You'll remember soon. You can't just give up."
"But—"
"Look, if you don't want to play pro Quidditch, that's okay. I release you from that vow. But you're not letting yourself die, much less by ruddy hiding in your head. Because I'm not releasing you from your promise, in fact, I'm raising it to official Oath status."
Sirius had nothing to say to that. He seemed to be developing a lockjaw, but he wasn't budging, the stubborn fool. He turned to watch their kid selves again.
"Nina came to see you."
"What?" What, James absently noted. Not who, but what. Sirius remembered her.
"With her uncle Angus. She's waiting for you right out there."
"Oh."
"She's worried sick."
That seemed to elicit a reaction. It didn't seem to be the one James was hoping for, though.
"Tell her that I'm s—"
"I'm not telling her jack," James snapped. "You're telling her yourself."
"I… can't."
"Sure you can." James' tone brooked no argument, and to his credit, Sirius didn't test him. "C'mon." James hauled him up by his arm. He was nearly weightless, and not quite solid. James decided it was high time they left, before Sirius dissolved completely.
"If it doesn't work," Sirius said, just as James was about to haul him to the spot where he'd appeared in the memory, "you won't try again."
"You know I will."
"Don't," Sirius advised.
"Would you listen to that amount of horseshit if the tables were turned?"
"No," Sirius admitted, smiling a little. He had the grace to look bashful. "No, I wouldn't."
"So there's your answer. Now hold on tight," James advised. In the distance, his Dad was calling, telling him that they were ready. "We're leaving."
James heaved. Nothing happened.
"What the—"
"I don't know."
"Sirius— are you…?"
"Hey, I'm holding on to you, like you said."
"Then why can't we get out?"
"Maybe if you go," Sirius suggested. "I'll just stay-"
"Shut up, Sirius."
"Well, I don't want you stuck in my head too."
"I said—" James started heatedly, but what he was going to tell Sirius — a variation of "shut up" — never made it out.
"Boys."
Dumbledore was standing next to them all of a sudden.
"What are you doing here?" Sirius' tone was suddenly accusing.
"I've come to get you both out of here," the Headmaster said patiently.
"But you promised —" Sirius tried to argue, but Dumbledore cut him off with a wave of his hand. Sirius acquired a sulky look.
"James, kindly give me a hand, and hold on to Mr. Black here…" James did, and immediately there was a tug, a yank, and that blender sensation again.
There was a wet sort of squelch next… and James found himself standing on his Dad's rug. Right by his side, Sirius was lying on a floating stretcher.
The Pensieve was empty.
James immediately knelt next to him.
"Sirius?" he asked softly, but in his mind he was reaching out… He let out a relieved sigh. Sirius was asleep, but he was there.
James looked up at the others' expectant faces.
"He's back," he informed them.
"All of him?" Nina asked. He hadn't noticed that she was right there too.
"All of him," James confirmed.
.
.
It wasn't until a while later — dawn had finally broken, thus ending the longest night in creation — that Sirius woke up. It was relieving, because James had feared he'd sleep right through everything, and it was necessary for Remus and Pete to know, without a doubt, that he was, in fact, lucid… sometimes.
It was just the four Marauders in the room; everyone else was getting ready to cast spells and preparing potions, and bandages, and salves and whatnot, so they had a few minutes to themselves.
Peter looked like he'd been in — and lost — a food fight; his straw blond hair was greasy and matted in a decidedly Snape-like manner, and there were rings under his eyes, just like the rest of them. Remus seemed ashen, his lean face more haggard than usual. He looked like he'd been through a terrible full moon last night… when it had in fact been last week, and he'd been so depressed that as a wolf, all he'd done was howl for hours, until James thought he'd go deaf. Or nuts. Or both.
They were all tired, and, James found, the waiting was the worst. Even with his friends there, even exhausted as they were from working their arses off all night, it felt like time had slowed down while they waited and watched.
Until Sirius' eyes opened, giving the world a bleary, unfocused look and fixing themselves on James' almost at once.
James looked at him, and for what felt like ages, Sirius stared back. There was no recognition there, not yet, but that had become commonplace.
And then, James decided to break the silence.
"The first one to blink has to kiss Poops," he said.
Sirius just continued staring at him uncomprehendingly.
"On the mouth."
Sirius' eyes began to water at once, and then…
"James…?" It was as uncertain as it had been a month ago, but James grinned. At least he wasn't freaking out because the last thing he recalled were Death Eaters trying to kill him.
"Yeah. That's me."
"What's a Poops?"
"Something that comes out of your... Never mind, there's no way I can make that sound good. Welcome back. You can blink now." Next to him, Remus and Peter were holding their breaths, and he was sure Sirius couldn't put names to their faces, so James decided to have pity on them all and help him along. "Remus and Pete have been waiting to see you all night," he told Sirius, gesturing at each of them in turn.
Grey eyes widened in recognition at last, and Sirius smiled at them. They beamed back.
"You're …" Remus started, but then Peter blurted, "Not dead," and they all laughed.
"Not yet, no." Sirius didn't get to say anything else; he was getting tackled by the other two Marauders.
It was as if time suddenly sped up in time with their rising moods, and James found that this was exactly what they'd needed. For a while it was all, welcome back and we were so worried, and do you need anything, and here, have some chocolate, and aren't dogs allergic to chocolate? and, no, he's had the stuff all his life.
They didn't touch on any upsetting topics, much less the worst of them right now, which was the attempt of the older contingent to undo the memory spells while Sirius was knocked out by that sleeping potion.
Maybe they, like James, sensed it would be easier if Sirius didn't know about it; he certainly didn't seem to have any recollection of the plan, and they weren't about to trigger one. They'd worry about it for him.
For his part, Sirius wasn't allowed to lapse into his usual quiet, brooding mindframe. He was made to laugh and smile and kept busy with his friends' antics instead, and by the time Dumbledore, McGonagall (she had been drafted by the Headmaster and received the full story earlier), McAlpin and James' Dad came upstairs to start on their brand of healing, Sirius looked loads better, as did they all.
"Hello, boys. It is time," Dumbledore said, effectively interrupting Remus' — hilarious, though it hadn't been so at the time —account of all the broken hearts Sirius had left scattered across the Hogwarts hallways, who had taken to tripping them up and chasing them to hug them, cry on them, and hug them some more.
"It's the closest Pete's gotten to getting a date," Remus was saying, but then his mouth snapped shut.
"Time for what?" Sirius asked, suddenly wary.
"We're getting those spells off you, honey," Betty told him, sitting down on his bedside. "Peter made you some Draught of Living Death. You'll be asleep for a little while, and I'm sure that when you wake up, you'll feel much better."
"Er..." Sirius was visibly tense now. "Hold up a second. What?"
"Wait!" All eyes turned to the door, where Nina was standing. She had had the sense to go to get some sleep earlier, but it appeared that someone had just woken her to let her know Sirius was awake. James had plain forgotten about it.
"Just… one minute, okay?" She didn't wait for an answer, but rushed to Sirius' side instead.
"Nina?" Sirius wasn't hesitant, like when he asked for confirmation on a name; he sounded surprised, and James knew why that was all of a sudden.
It was impossible to overlook, even with his bad eyesight.
"You're alive," she tackled him in the fiercest, most careful hug in existence. Sirius' expression dispelled any doubts James could have had. He liked her. Scratch that, he more than liked her. And she more than liked him, too.
That was news.
"I'm so, so sorry." Sirius was saying into her shoulder, and was he apologising for being alive? The look he gave her when she pulled away was priceless, James dubbed it the Puppy Padfoot Heartache Stare(TM pending), but it became clear why the next moment; she was crying.
"Don't be. I didn't believe you were dead. And you're not. I'm just... happy that I was right."
"How long ago did your dad adopt him?" Remus asked out of the corner of his mouth.
"Three days ago, now." James answered. "Why?"
"Your genes sure work fast; he's already got the PISS."
This made James snigger, but Remus was right; Sirius was giving her this disbelieving and enthralled stare, which James had only seen him bestow on a few select motorbikes and one broom prototype before. Like he couldn't believe his luck.
Nina cupped his face in her hands, caressing his fringe. Next to her, Betty cleared her throat delicately. Sirius' eyes wandered to hers, and he acquired a decidedly more apprehensive expression.
"You'll be all right," Nina told him next, drawing his attention back to her. "I know that the Draught of Living Death sounds ominous, but it's nothing but a strong sleeping potion. It'll help them get those spells off without you even noticing. You won't feel a thing. And you need a break; I know you're tired."
"I'm not that tired," Sirius said at once, belying his chief complaint for ages. Nina smiled.
"I'm sure you aren't. But if you're awake for the spell removal, you'll fidget and squirm like a fish out of the water, and uncle Angus says you need to be very still for a bit." She was running her fingers through his hair, and never mind the sleeping potion, James could see him drifting off now.
"Just… don't go."
"I won't," she promised, and Betty gave her the phial with the dose of potion.
James and the others said their goodbyes and see you laters, and watched tensely as Sirius downed the Draught of Living Death. "It tastes funny," he said… and not a moment later, he fell back against his pillows, eyes open and completely limp. And damn, he did look quite dead.
James' Mum closed his glassy eyes, then turned at Nina and the three boys, looking like she had a head cold.
"Come you lot, you need to get some breakfast, and get ready for class. We'll let them get to work now."
"Class?"
"You've got to be kidding!"
"Why can't we stay?"
"Because I am not covering for you, Mr. Potter," McGonagall interrupted. She was smiling, but she wasn't going to budge. "So off you go, you may return after you have finished your lessons."
.
.
"I can't believe they sent us back," Remus huffed, as they walked down the spiralling staircase from the Head Office. James wasn't sure he'd ever heard Remus huff before; that was his own department, or maybe Peter's. Remus tended to just take things as they came, rarely ever lapsing into anger or bitterness. He couldn't really afford to, which James was well aware of; he really must be angry if he was huffing over going to class.
"At least they're letting us return after class," James answered. "I thought they wouldn't."
"True, but we helped them with the potions and the spells, the least they could do was—" James cut Remus' tirade off; a pair of third year girls were staring at them with wide eyes.
"Pay up," James said, "but that's Slytherins for you. They never hold up their end of the bargain." The girls hurried away, and James let out a breath. "We need to be more careful. He's supposed to be dead."
"You should be going to Potions, and you're late on your homework!" a shrill voice exclaimed, making them all jump and breaking the tension.
"Gods, Moony. Why haven't you binned that blasted watch?"
"I got it for Christmas, Prongs. And I happen to like it."
"It's driving me up the wall. Who would be so cruel as to give you that thing?"
"Sirius," Remus answered. "It's a reminder watch. It listens in on stuff you have to do and then reminds you of it," he told them. "Like homework assignments, or it even tells you what you haven't noted down in class. It's also usually more quiet, but usually I actually do what I'm supposed to. I guess it's just mad at me for ignoring it."
"Sirius gave you that?" James shook his head.
"Yeah. He said that he charmed it himself."
Peter looked at the watch, then smiled and nodded appraisingly, and he looked, James thought, a little smug.
"What did you get for Christmas, Pete?" James asked, as they made their way to the dungeons. He hadn't opened his present from Sirius. All he knew was that it was heavy.
"I can't tell you," Pete answered smugly. "Or rather, I can't tell the resident Prefect." This, of course, sparked their curiosity.
"Och come on," Remus prodded. "What did he give you?"
"It's either girls' knickers or a book," James guessed, making Peter laugh.
"Neither. You won't like it, Remus. And I won't part with it. So… you'll have to solemnly swear."
"Okay okay, sheesh. I solemnly swear that I…" he looked inquiringly at Peter.
"Won't report, confiscate, forbid the use of or in any way damage Peter's awesome present."
"What he said," Remus lowered his hand. "You had it all planned out, huh?"
"It's just… a fabulous present," Peter said excitedly, showing them… a ring he wore on a chain around his neck.
"Is it the One Ring to drool them all?" James asked mockingly.
"You know Prongs, if you read the story you'd love it."
"I don't need to read it, I've got you nerds to quote passages at me all the time." James snorted. Remus had given Sirius copies of the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, and ye gods, were they both hooked.
"It's not Sauron's ring," Peter replied, thus proving that he too, was a fan of Aragorn of a thousand names. "This, my fiend, is a cheat ring."
"He didn't!" Remus exclaimed. He looked quite scandalised, which told James that his furriest friend was reaching the end of his tether for some reason. It worried James, more than he'd want to admit.
"Hand charmed, just like your watch!" Peter grinned. "Only way more awesome."
"You're not using that," Remus crossed his arms over his chest.
"Am too!" Peter replied. "And might I remind you that you, my Prefect friend, swore a Marauding Oath not to forbid the use of this item."
Remus dragged a hand down his face. In the end, he chuckled in defeat.
"Fine, but I'll have to tell—" James elbowed him in the ribs, "Ow! I was going to say "the caster", James! Anyway. I'll tell him to un-charm it."
"No, you won't."
"You betcha I will." Remus gave Peter a toothy grin, but little Pete didn't back off.
"He won't listen. Because it's the best thing ever made."
"I'll convince him."
"You got nothing."
"So how does it work, Wormy?" James asked, to end the argument before it dragged on longer. Peter beamed at him.
"See, as long as I study for it, the ring will guide my hand to write the correct answers," he said. "So it's not a way to cheat really, since I have to work for it, but I can stop worrying about failing all my OWLs now."
"That doesn't sound too bad, now does it?" James nudged Remus, who looked a bit less sour. Peter wasn't stupid, but he got awfully nervous during tests and messed up the simplest things; they'd all tried to help him overcome that for years. It was hard, since Remus was a very strict bookworm and James and Sirius hardly even opened any books for their top marks.
"No it doesn't. It's kind of like my watch, when it reminds me to complete my notes," he admitted just a little grudgingly.
"Only infinitely betterrrr." Peter was smug as he put the ring back under his robes. James laughed, but now he was wondering what he had gotten. He'd never opened any of his presents, on account of worrying himself to death… but that was ages ago, and he'd never even thought of it since.
He decided that he'd have to change that.
.
.
How they made it through the day was lost on James. During class he was distracted, worrying about how the spell work was going back home; between classes he and Remus broke up a few scuffles between students, but he didn't have a mind for pranks, or even doing what Dumbledore had asked him to. Even the insults from the Slytherins washed over him without any reaction whatsoever.
He kept glancing at Remus' watch — which had indeed stopped yelling at them once they actually did what they were supposed to — but that wasn't making time move any faster either.
"I'm going to take a shower," he decided abruptly during lunch, which he had hardly touched. "See you in Charms later."
He didn't notice the figure following him out, until he was yanked into a side passage on the fourth floor.
"What the hell?" James asked, squinting at the blinding light issuing from a wandtip.
"Sorry. But I can't be seen around the likes of you. It's bad for business."
"Regulus?"
Regulus lowered his wand. He looked like he, too, needed some holidays from his holidays.
"What do you want?" James shot at him, shoving him away. He had heard that Regulus was actively spreading rumours about Sirius, which put him in the same box as the Death Eaters, and he was instantly incensed.
"I've got a warning for you. They're planning on hexing you, then portkeying you out of here."
"What? Who?" James hadn't expected that. Regulus rolled his eyes, scoffing.
"Can you honestly not think of anyone who's itching to do you in?"
James didn't answer; of course he could.
"Why?"
"Because he wants you. And they want to give you to him. Because he didn't get Sirius, like he wanted."
"Yeah, that's got to hurt, doesn't it?" James glared at the younger boy.
"It does," he admitted, but he clearly wasn't talking about Voldemort just then.
"Were you in on it?" James asked coldly.
"No. If I'd known, I'd have told you, like I'm doing now. He was my brother, you know. That counted for something."
James didn't have a comeback to that.
"So look out, yeah? I won't be able to help if you get yourself into trouble. I'm not him, I won't risk it. I won't help them either, but that won't make a difference."
Regulus was gone the next moment, leaving James to worry about one more thing. Or not quite worry. That was too strong a word.
Let them try, James decided. He'd wanted to kick their collective arses for ages. And thanks to the heads-up, he'd be ready.
Come what may.
.
.
"…breathing?"
The voice sounded as though it was coming through a few metres of water, muffled and with a strange distorted echo.
"Of course he's breathing, didn't Dumbledore say he'd start on his own like, an hour ago?"
"Well, it doesn't look like it."
"Come closer, then, you'll see." All the voices sounded garbled. It was hard to tell them apart, much less decipher what they were on about.
"Yeah Pete, it's pretty obvious from here, see?"
"What if I messed it up and—"
"Come off it, Wormy," and were these voices familiar? Or had he only been hearing them for so long, that it seemed to him that he'd heard them before? Sirius' brain didn't seem to want to cooperate. He decided against pushing it, and he would have decided to go back to sleep if the voices around him would just shut up. But they didn't, and so, he didn't either.
"Your potion was perfect. Didn't you see how dead he looked when we gave it to him?"
"Yeah, Prongs is right. It was a very convincingly dead look."
"Yeah, but shouldn't the effects have passed by now? It's been days. And your Mum gave him the antidote this morning. She told me. What if it didn't work?"
"Just give it time…"
Wait just a tick. That last had sounded much clearer.
Sirius' brain decided it was time to stir. While it engaged in callisthenics, Sirius absently wondered where he was now.
"That's right, Prongs. He's looking less waxy, don't you agree?"
For once, Sirius' mind was forthcoming with information. He'd been at James' house, hadn't he? For like, ever, too.
"Ohmigod!" One of them suddenly exclaimed.
"What?" The other two voices yelled.
"He moved!"
"What?"
"When?"
"Just now!"
"You sure?"
"Yeah, look!"
Sirius cracked an eye open. The room he was in was dark, only dimly lit by a few candles. He blinked a few times, into three very blurry, vaguely familiar faces.
They're either going to eat me, or they look happy, he thought, whilst trying to focus.
"Sirius!" they chorused. "You're awake!"
Happy, they're happy. Good.
"How are you feeling?"
Sirius watched them blearily for a moment, then screwed his eyes shut as the light increased. The sound quality was better too, he noted.
"Uh…" it was just a whisper, but the faces around him began bobbing up and down, and shoving each other and grinning more widely. "Hi."
Yes. Definitely familiar.
"Padfoot, you're back!"
"Yeah, back." Sirius swallowed thickly.
"How are you feeling?" That was James, Sirius was like, seventy per cent certain, even if everything was out of focus. He always repeated questions until he got an answer. But was he really?
He decided he'd try.
"Hi, James."
"Hi yourself." But James looked ecstatic. He was grabbing the other two boys by the shoulders and pushing them closer to the bedside. "Do you know them?"
There was a bit of a tense silence, during which Sirius looked long into the half hopeful, half bracing expressions of two people he knew now, he had missed sorely. Two people he shouldn't have forgotten, but had.
"Yeah," he said at length, and smiled sleepily. "Pete…" at this, the blond Marauder gave a small excited jump. "And… not-Pete." Remus' face fell, and his other friends' smiles wavered.
Sirius smiled a bit more widely, looking at his werewolf friend.
"I'm kidding," he told him, vaguely aware that that just surprised a few months out of them. "You're Remus… and you're… not-Remus."
He let his eyes drift shut, and the next moment, he was fast asleep.
.
.
When he opened his eyes again, it was light out, sort of. He could see the sun setting through the curtains. Some more people had joined his friends while he wasn't looking. To Sirius, it was as though he'd blinked, and an extra handful of people had appeared out of thin air. One of them, Mrs. P., was closest.
"I missed something, didn't I?" he asked no-one in particular. He felt very thirsty.
"You've missed ever so much, honey," Mrs. P replied, but she was smiling at him, which made things right in so many ways. "Three full days, in fact. It's Saturday. How are you feeling?"
"Dunno."
"Well, does it hurt anywhere?"
"No, Mrs. P."
"That's a start. Boys, give him this, and eat your dinners." Sirius saw some trays float across the room. "I'll get Poppy."
"Three days?" Sirius wondered. It hadn't felt longer than a few minutes.
"Yeah, Padfoot."
"That wasn't nice of you at all," James informed him.
"Why?"
"We had to go to school the day before yesterday, and again yesterday." Remus didn't sound like he minded that too much.
"School?"
"Uh-huh," Pete was examining the contents of a steaming bowl. Sirius wasn't sure what it contained, but his stomach rumbled. "So inconsiderate. I probably failed that quiz."
"Quiz?" Gods, he was in parrot mode today. And so, so lost.
"Yes, for History of Magic. Binns did a surprise quiz, and since we've been having kittens over you, I didn't study at all."
"But…" Sirius was so confused. Doubly so, because… "Didn't I make you a ring for that?"
"Yeah, but you didn't put any answers in it!" There was no reproach in Peter's tone, and they all laughed. Sirius managed a smile.
"Need anything, Padfoot?" Ah, James. Ever the dependable one. For catering at least.
"Water."
"So… what was it like?" Remus asked. Upon seeing Sirius' clueless look, he elaborated. "They gave you the Draught of Living Death a few days ago. What was that like?" Sirius thought back on it for a minute. Then he shrugged.
"Like falling asleep," he decided. "Faster and easier than that, even."
"So… you remember nothing?"
"Not really. Just that it was nice," Sirius offered. "Kind of like… dunno. It was dark and warm… and nothing."
"You don't remember getting up and walking around yesterday?" Remus asked. Had Sirius been more awake, he'd have picked up on the evil glint in his eye. But he was very groggy, so he missed it.
"Nekkid to boot." Peter chimed in matter-of-factly.
"You scared the house elves," James supplied, bringing a glass of water to Sirius' lips and helping him drink it. And was it him or were they trying to hold back laughs?
"You're taking the Mickey." Sirius said, but the water was deliciously fresh and cool, so he focused on that.
"Are we?" Remus asked. Sirius wasn't sure.
"Are we?" Peter leaned forward a bit.
"I..."
"Don't worry about it; my parents and even the elves are used to seeing you in various stages of undress by now." James gave him a light pat on the shoulder, and sat down on the chair closest to the bed. He took the bowl from Peter, and spooned something up for him. "They had to explain things to old McAlpin and Nina, though…"
Sirius felt his heart skip a beat. He stared at James, who held out the spoon, his expression unreadable.
"Don't worry, they didn't seem to mind." James said bracingly, while Sirius was busy coordinating his mouth to chew and swallow without choking on his stew.
"She didn't, at any rate," Peter supplied, and the three of them laughed.
"Nina?" Sirius asked. His brain had ground to a halt at the mention of her name, and had he had any more blood in him, he'd have blushed crimson.
"Yeah, she went home, to—"
"Scrub her eyes with Skower's Magical Mess Remover—"
"But she'll be back later."
"Wearing a blinding charm."
"You're lying," Sirius groaned.
"Are we?" Remus and Pete chorused, grinning.
"Here, eat up," James urged.
"What's the hurry?" Sirius wanted to know.
"Poops."
"There's a loo right down the hall."
"He did a funny."
"Eat up, Pads; this is getting all cold and nasty."
"Pete can have it, then."
They chuckled. Pete tried to snatch the stew, claiming it was good stuff, even cold.
"Poops will probably kick us out, but we'll come back tonight if we can," James informed him a while later. "If not, we'll be here tomorrow after Quidditch practice. And don't forget to use your mirror whenever you want."
"I won't," Sirius answered. "Forget, I mean… at least I don't think I will."
"And if you do, we'll remind you."
.
.
Night had fallen once again, signalling the close to yet another day in the secret war being waged. Unseen by most, the battles were fierce, yet short-lived.
Tonight was no exception.
Voldemort, formerly known as Tom Riddle, smiled with the certainty of victory.
Three houses they had attacked tonight; in Cardiff, Edinburgh and Dover, three Dark Marks were hovering in the sky.
"Ready, my Lord," Yaxley informed. They were on a rooftop, watching the fourth house, where the family of dissidents was getting ready for bed.
By tomorrow, there would be no doubt: if your blood was pure (or pure enough) and you refused the Cause, the consequences would be… inevitable and insurmountable.
"Any word on Bella?" The Dark Lord asked. It was not like her to miss a raid, much less the fourth on the same night.
"No, my Lord. We have not received any messages since…" Lucius trailed off, clearly having learnt his lesson regarding the repetition of known information. "Would you wish to send for her?"
"No, Lucius, I am confident that whatever is keeping her, she shall return as soon as she has dealt with it."
"Yes, my Lord."
"However, I do wish you would send for one Bartleby Trent," the Dark Lord added. "With his corresponding entourage."
"Yes, my Lord. Gladly, my Lord."
One thing might be said about his Death Eaters. They were inspired when it came to fetching him things.
Vase fiasco aside, once they were given a less slippery target, they invariably managed to exceed his expectations.
Voldemort allowed himself a thin, cool smile.
Oh, they would learn, all those wee magical folk of the Kingdom.
Tonight, the lesson the Dark Lord had prepared for those purebreds sitting on the sidelines would be displayed for all to see: the Dark Side was not going away, so better join up while there was still a chance of surviving the invitation.
.
.
"My Lord!" Bella strode through the hall and bowed low to Voldemort.
"My dear Bellatrix. I have missed you these past few days." Voldemort let Nagini slither down and find herself a snack. "I trust you had good reason."
"I cracked it, My Lord!" She answered excitedly. "It took me days and days, but I found a hole in the defences of Godric's Hall!"
"You did?"
"Yes — the blood-traitors didn't notice — there's an old ward to let in the mail owls," she informed. "It was built on another, which allows pets to come and go as they please, but it was failing and had not been renewed." Bellatrix looked very pleased with herself. "I did so, using a Dark Mark curse on the house's defences."
"How so?" Voldemort was intrigued now.
"It's got a Mimic Charm on it, growing as we speak, corrupting the older wards to bend to your will, my Lord. In just a few days, the snake… Nagini, will be able to enter. She will open the door for us, when the spell has opened the path."
"And when will that happy event occur?"
"This Tuesday going on Wednesday, right after midnight."
Voldemort summoned his calendar, marking Tuesday, the twenty-seventh of January, in red. He put a big X on Wednesday twenty-eighth.
"Good. We shall attack at three in the morning on Wednesday. Get everyone together and let them know; you and I shall visit Godric's Hall tonight and we shall strengthen that spell, together. And when it's ready, we will burn those traitors alive."
.
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TBC. Reviews welcome.
Next up: Sirius gets better, Narcissa does her bit, and things get better before they get worse, and worse yet before they get… even worse.
