Secrets Are Walls That Keep Us Alone
Chapter Eleven
September continued in much the same way, and slowly faded into October, at which point James, determined to win the Quidditch cup, increased practices to three per week. Also with October came a great deal of rain, which left Sirius sure he would never be properly warm or dry again.
As the day of the first Quidditch match approached, both James and Sirius became very nervous, though Peter and Remus assured them that it would be fine. The day before, they had both scoffed at the notion that they would be nervous at all.
"Please. I'm not nervous. I'll catch the snitch before the Hufflepuffs manage to lay a hand on the Quaffle," James had said. Nevertheless, Sirius was sure he was worried.
The night before the game, they sat in the common room in almost complete silence. Remus was busy writing a Potions essay, while Peter quietly asked him questions, trying not to elicit a fit of yelling from James, who paced anxiously muttering the different plays they had practiced.
Sirius, for his part, sat on the floor in front of the fire, staring at the crackling orange flames, considering. The team was solid, everyone worked well together. The Chasers had definitely come together, seeming almost to know the others' thoughts. James was a spectacular Seeker, as he had always been. Longbottom and Rolphen had no problems as beaters.
No, the thing Sirius most worried about was his own position. James had insisted that Sirius was the perfect Keeper, but Sirius knew he was just being nice. His flaws were obvious to him.
He wished he flew as quickly as Geoffrey Benson, was as adept at catching the Quaffle as he was. Then they would have no troubles.
"We should get to bed," James said suddenly, halting his pacing to speak to Sirius. "Good night's sleep, and all that."
"Yeah," Sirius said, slowly getting to his feet and turning toward the dormitory, immediately remorseful over the loss of the fire's heat.
Once in bed, Sirius pulled shut the hangings and lay very still. He closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep, though his stomach was in knots and his heart seemed to have climbed into his throat.
What are you so worried about? He asked himself. You've never been this nervous before. That was true. He was competitive, but always Quidditch had just been for fun. It had never actually worried him.
It's not a big deal. It'll be fine. With that thought, he fell asleep.
The rain rushed down, slicking the Quaffle, splattering in the mud already thick on the Quidditch pitch. It fell in torrents so massive Sirius couldn't see three feet in front of him.
His soaked hair was plastered down, the pieces in the front washed into his eyes so that he had to keep pushing them back, desperately clutching the slippery handle of his broomstick with only one hand.
The sky was pitch black; the only moments of sight Sirius was granted came from the flashes of lightning spearing through the clouds.
"Hufflepuff is up one hundred and seventy to ten," the announcer called, the rest of his words lost in a clap of thunder.
A burst of light and Sirius saw the large form of a Chaser careening forward, gripping the Quaffle tightly. He squinted through the storm, blinking rain from his eyes, trying to see.
A soft whoosh and the Quaffle was coming toward him, past him, his fingertips just grazing it before it soared through the hoop.
Another flash of lightning revealed the Chaser still coming closer, into the scoring area, and Sirius gasped as the features of the person cleared into those of his father.
Orion slammed into Sirius, grabbing him by the shoulder before he fell from his broom. Sirius struggled, his broom falling back to earth in the process, his father now the only thing keeping him in the air.
"You failed, Sirius," Orion hissed. "They all know your secret."
"No," Sirius said, and Orion's fist connected with his jaw.
"Look at them," Orion spat, forcing Sirius to turn towards the crowd. "They're laughing at you. They know you're nothing but a weak, filthy, fat traitor. They know the truth."
The crowd howled with laughter, listening to Orion's words booming through the stadium, overpowering the sound of the thunderous storm. Geoffrey Benson clutched his sides, gasping for breath as he laughed, nearly slipping from his broom. James gave him a long look, then shook his head, turned away…
"No," Sirius said again. "Please, no…"
Then he was falling, falling, falling, the form of his father rapidly shrinking as the distance between them grew, the laughing faces of the crowd blurring as he plunged to the earth at a sickening speed.
He could barely force words past the lump of fear in his throat threatening to strangle him. "Help me!"
And then he knew no more.
"Help me!" The words ripped from his throat as he sat up suddenly, gasping for breath.
"Just a dream. Just a dream," he mumbled to himself, trying to slow his breathing. His chest and stomach ached horribly.
He stood shakily, holding one of his bedposts for support as the room lurched sickeningly. Still gasping for breath, he stumbled into the bathroom and was sick for a few minutes, though he hadn't really eaten much the previous day.
When he finished, he went over to the sink to rinse out his mouth, clinging to the sink for support as he did so. He caught sight of his face in the mirror, pale, drawn, dark circles under the eyes. He looked awful, he thought, then shook his head. What else is new?
He walked back into the dormitory, peering at his friends through the darkness. As far as he could tell, he hadn't woken them.
He silently dressed and crept out of the dormitory, downstairs to the common room, where he sat once more on the floor in front of the fireplace.
The fire had been nearly extinguished, as it was two in the morning and no one was supposed to be down there. A wave of Sirius' wand produced a crackling blaze, and he stared into the glowing flames, thinking.
He felt himself shivering, despite the warmth of the fire. His father had plagued his dreams increasingly, leading to many sleepless nights. He was unsure of why exactly that was, knowing as he did that he wouldn't see his father again until the next summer.
This past summer, his father hadn't done anything unusual, not really. He had been acting that way for years. So why was it that Sirius felt his stomach knot in anxiety at the mere thought of Orion?
I hate him. I hate that son of a bitch. He ruined everything. Nothing had changed at home, Sirius knew. But something about Sirius himself had changed.
Sirius was known for many things. Confident, funny Sirius Black: brilliant wizard, Gryffindor Keeper, genius prankster, excellent friend. He didn't feel like any of those things. He struggled in his classes, he missed easy saves during practice, he hadn't pulled a prank in months, and he had been a rather lousy friend of late. He sure wasn't confident.
The old Sirius Black hung on by a thread, a Patronus to shield the real Sirius from the world by showing everyone only what they expected, instead of what he really was.
"Sirius?" He whirled about at the sound of his name to find Remus.
"Moony! Scare me half to death!" Sirius grinned, though his heart still raced.
"Sorry." Remus came over and sat down on a chair near him. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing, really. Why are you up?"
"It's almost eight," Remus replied. Sirius glanced at his watch, surprised at how quickly the time had passed. "Are you okay?"
"'Course. Why wouldn't I be?" Sirius faked another smile.
"I heard you being sick earlier." Remus scrutinized him, waiting for a response.
"You- you did?" Sirius faltered.
"Yes. You talked in your sleep, and I woke up."
"Oh. Yeah, I had a really weird dream," Sirius said, not lying at all.
"What about?"
"Just Quidditch. I guess I'm a bit nervous about the first match." Sirius laughed a little, hoping to diffuse some of the tension he was sensing.
Remus shook his head. "I'm worried, Sirius."
Sirius frowned. "You shouldn't be."
"You've lost weight," Remus said, and Sirius felt elated. He had? Really?
"Not really," he said, hiding his joy.
"Yes, you have. You hardly eat."
"I eat fine," Sirius mumbled, turning back to stare at the fire again.
"You have nightmares."
"Everyone does," Sirius said, looking back at his friend. "I'm fine, Remus, really. You're making a big deal out of nothing."
"Are you sure?" Remus asked carefully.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Everything's fine," Sirius said, giving a small smile, which Remus returned, though still a little uncertain.
"If you're sure," he said.
"What are we talking about?" James asked, coming down the staircase, followed by Peter. "It'd better be Quidditch."
"What else would it be, Prongs?" Sirius asked, standing up. "What with our immensely important match today."
"That's what we like to hear," James said, clapping him on the shoulder and then ushering them all out of the portrait hole.