.
The light was so harsh, Sirius had to blink as his eyes adjusted to the glare. A million ticks a second, interspersed now and then with chimes and shrill alarms, made the air vibrate. His ears, sensitised by the time he spent as a dog, rebelled. The noise buzzed in his head and made him feel sick and dizzy.
The room was long. Rows of tables, display cases, and cabinets were arranged along each side with just a narrow walkway between them. Displayed haphazardly in every available space—packed into cabinets, standing on the floor, fixed to the backs of doors, and hanging from the ceiling—were timepieces of every conceivable and many an inconceivable description. Wrist watches, pocket watches, stopwatches, sundials, moon phase clocks, Antikythera and orreries, grandfather and grandmother clocks, mantelpiece clocks, cuckoo clocks, weather clocks, dripping water clocks and burning candle clocks, all battled to be seen and heard. But there were spaces where objects had been swept away or dislodged. Broken glass and splintered wood, clockwork mechanisms and twisted metal littered the floor. They had to scramble over a grandfather clock which had fallen across the aisle.
At the far end of the room, a huge, clear bell jar, as tall as a man, glittered, bright as the sun, throwing visible beams of light in every direction and casting long shadows behind the five of them. Inside the great jar something moved, drifting, with an occasional wriggle, from the bottom to the top.
Close to the bell jar, a tall glass-fronted cabinet fell forward. An instant before hitting the floor it righted itself and flew back against the wall, immediately falling again in a silent, repeating cycle of destruction and reconstruction. Inside it, hourglasses of all shapes and sizes spun and glittered, blinking in and out of existence.
Above the door through which they had entered, Sirius saw a gigantic clock on the wall, much like the railway station clocks he remembered from his youth. He noticed that the number twelve was where the three should be, with the one above it, and the two above that; and what he had taken to be a second hand was moving erratically and changing direction. He had a sense of slipping sideways and put his hand against the edge of a table to steady himself.
Behind him, he heard Kingsley say: "It is a common misconception that Time is universal. For you and I, it moves only in one direction, but in other wheres and other whens, who can say?"
Sirius turned to look at Kingsley's dark, inscrutable face and when he turned back to the immense clock, all the numbers had switched places.
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A loud cry drew everyone's attention. The body of a man with the head of a baby, red face screwed up in outrage, lurched mindlessly from side to side in the middle of the room, crashing into walls and furniture. Bawling, it grabbed blindly at anything that came to hand, sending more objects crashing to the floor. It had ripped a sleeve from its robes and a shoulder was completely bare.
As one, they froze and stared in horror.
"Who—what—in Merlin's name, is that?" asked Tonks.
"That," said Sirius collecting himself, "is—or was—Rabastan Lestrange. I recognise the tattoos. That's one less Death Eater to deal with. But what the hell happened to him?"
"Quickly!" Kingsley pulled them back to attention and they ran on, skirting the baby-headed man and leaving him thrashing about behind. Once through a door at the other end of the room, Sirius drew a breath of relief at being away from the infernal ticking and chiming.
Another man wearing a Death Eater's hood was slumped on the floor leaning against a wall next to the doorway. He was weeping pitifully and nursing the mangled remains of what had been his hands.
Mad-Eye yanked the hood off. "Nott," he said dismissively. "Another one down."
Sirius trod on something soft. A finger. One of Nott's, presumably. He had seen much worse in Azkaban, and kicked it away without a second thought, looking around at the room in which they stood. Lit only by candles held in irregularly placed brackets and burning with chill blue flames, the ceiling was so high that the upper part of the space was lost in darkness. Row upon row of tall wooden racks stretched away as far as he could see. Each one held a multitude of shelves upon which were arranged glass spheres of apparently infinite sizes and colours. Some were thin and delicate and glowed as if lit from within, while others enclosed moving wisps of vapour. A number appeared thick and dull and lifeless. The Hall of Prophecies. Sirius had heard about it but never expected to see it.
Kingsley strode purposefully towards the other end of the hall and disappeared around a corner. The rest of them followed him into a mess of toppled and broken racks in a field of shattered glass. A few cloudy globes remained in place but most of the shelves here were empty. Every so often little puffs of smoke burst into the air and disembodied voices echoed unintelligibly around them.
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Standing before a badly damaged rack, Kingsley tapped a yellowed label still fastened to an empty shelf. Sirius peered at it. SPT to APWBD. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter.
"Unless it's in this unholy mess," Kingsley gestured around, "Harry must have taken it. Let's hope he's still got it. But they've been and gone. Back to the entrance, everyone!"
Not watching where he was stepping, Sirius felt a sharp pop underfoot and a grey cloud erupted before him. Inside it was a disembodied mouth. Hypnotised, he could not tear his eyes away. The hoarse male voice sounded almost familiar, like someone from his childhood. It reminded him a bit of his uncle Alphard.
". . . For twelve years and for twelve years . . ." it said, ". . . he will walk the Shadow Path. But if he answers to the one who calls the first time, another gate will open; and if he seeks his home the second time he may return . . . "
Tonks grabbed his arm, breaking his trance. "Don't hang about, mate. Come on!"
They gathered in the entrance room once more. Kingsley seemed to be listening to his earring again. "They're in the Death Chamber." He pointed at Sirius, Remus and Alastor. "You three, through that door. Tonks, with me. Wands ready. On my word."
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Simultaneously, all five of them readied their wands."Now!" shouted Kingsley and threw the two heavy doors open, bursting through onto the top level of a chilly, dimly lit tiered chamber, much like a theatre in the round. The tiers dropped steeply into a central well, in the middle of which, mounted on a dais, was a high stone arch which drew Sirius's attention from the melee which was taking place among the tiers.
Although he had never seen it, he knew what it was. Knew his own ancestors had been instrumental in bringing it to this deep place, and knew something of what was said to wait beyond. The carved stone archway, pitted and cracked, was ancient beyond memory. Tattered shreds of dark material hung inside it, drifting as if moved by a faint breeze—or by great heat.
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He forced his attention back to the chamber trying to make sense of what was happening around him. Tonks had already engaged in combat with Lucius Malfoy who, unlike most of the other Death Eaters, was not wearing a mask. With an admirably efficient spell, she sent him spinning along one of the tiers before turning her attention to her aunt Bellatrix who was some way lower, near the arch. A masked Death Eater she hadn't noticed aimed his wand at her, but Sirius disarmed him easily with a yell of "Expelliarmus!
Kingsley was duelling two Death Eaters at once but seemed to be in control of the situation. Behind a pillar, Mad-Eye was fighting with someone Sirius could not see. He had no idea where Remus had gone.
Mechanically evaluating the progress of the battle, he searched desperately for any sign of Harry and caught sight of him below, near the dais, where a boy he recognised as Neville Longbottom was crawling along the floor. Sirius saw Harry throw himself to the ground behind Neville as a loud spell narrowly missed them, cracking the flagstones on the floor. Then, to Sirius's horror, he saw a large, masked Death Eater leap down and grab Harry from behind, his hands closing around the boy's throat.
Sirius vaulted desperately down the tiers towards them, but a faint sound instinctively made him look aside just in time to see a Death Eater fire a blast of light at him.
"Protego!" Sirius spun and blocked the spell, countering with "Confringo!" but the Death Eater dodged and the blast hit one of the tiers with a sharp crack, sending splinters of red hot granite slicing through the air. Risking a glance towards Harry, he saw that the two boys had disabled the Death Eater who had lost his mask. Macnair was yelling in agony with a hand clapped over one eye and blood running between his fingers. Sirius gave Harry the briefest nod as he passed and concentrated again on his opponent.
From somewhere off to the side, another spell hit the Death Eater he was fighting, sending him flying to the bottom of the chamber and sliding across the floor to lie still at the bottom of the dais. Sirius looked over to see Remus saluting with his wand. With a grin, he raised his own wand to his temple and ran back towards Harry.
Another unmasked Death Eater—the ruthless Antonin Dolohov—had Harry's friend in a helpless, tottering tangle. He had his wand trained on Harry who was holding the glass prophecy sphere precariously in his fingertips.
Terrified, Sirius thought Harry was finished, but the boy just managed to shield himself from the worst of the spell that shot towards him. Dolohov lifted his wand again.
As if wings had sprouted on his feet, Sirius launched himself through the air, knowing that if Dolohov dodged in time, he would crash on to the stone tiers and almost certainly put himself well and truly out of action. But Dolohov was not expecting such an unsophisticated assault and Sirius knocked him sideways, winding both of them. Dolohov recovered his balance almost immediately, and blocked the spell Sirius fired at him without difficulty. Gleefully recognising his attacker, he gave a sneering laugh.
"Well, well, Pretty-boy Black! Where is your protector now, dirty pidaras?"
Just a couple of weeks ago, the taunts would have sent Sirius into a blind, unpredictable rage, but now the words bounced off him. He grinned, and Dolohov looked taken aback.
"It's not me that needs protection now, Antonin! Ferio!"
Dolohov parried with a poorly aimed, "Crucio!"
Sirius leapfrogged to the next tier and blasted a stunning spell, but Dolohov twisted away, raising his wand to slash downwards. Then Harry shouted "Petrificus Totalus!" and Dolohov, with an expression of astonished dismay, stiffened in paralysis and keeled over.
Sirius leaped down to Harry. "Nice one, mate!" Two spells sparked towards them from above, and he put his hand on Harry's head, pushing him out of the way, feeling the softness of his hair and the life beneath. So like James.
"You've got to get out of here, Harry! Bugger!" He ducked as a green flash only just missed him. He caught sight of Bellatrix dashing down the tiers and spotted Tonks' motionless body slumped between two tiers.
"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!" Wand pointed, he ran to meet his cousin. Jumping up on to the dais, he shouted "Stupefy!" but his aim was off and it missed her.
She crowed with furious joy. "Oooh, Pwitty-boy Siwius! Come and get me Pwitty-boy!"
Standing before the stone arch, he was so close that he could hear voices coming from the other side of the tattered Veil and thought he heard James saying something. He wanted to stop: to listen. But there was no time. Bellatrix was aiming her wand at him.
It was like a game; they were children again, play-duelling in one of the long corridors of the house at Grimmauld Place. He laughed as he skipped playfully sideways and effortlessly ducked a flash of red light, retaliating with a neat "Eludus!" that caught her off- balance.
"Come on, Bella, is that the best you can do?" He blew her a kiss and raised his wand to finish the job and . . .
. . . he heard someone shout his name. Not the whispering he could hear from behind the veil but a strong, clear summons from above. The voices behind him changed and whispered '. . . blood; remember. . .' Quickly he looked up and for a split second thought he saw a grey-haired, bearded man up on the very top tier. The man leaped down towards him, light and agile, balancing on the stone benches. Sirius shivered uncontrollably.
No one was there. What a terrible time for someone to walk over his grave. The distraction had been fatal. Bellatrix had reached her wand.
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Bellatrix, he thought. My cousin, my blood. She wouldn't— Then her wand flashed again and everything turned red.
.
Is that how it happens? he thought in surprise, as his heart stopped and he fell backwards. Just a split second of hesitation. Something so easily avoided.
Remus, he thought. Harry. James. Julia. I'm sorry.
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Julia emerged from the staircase on Level Eight and cautiously scurried towards the main corridor. She had just edged past an open door and was by the lift when a vice-like grip on her shoulder and a voice in her ear made her freeze in terror.
"Look who we have here, where she has no business being. Our little Muggle. Some light relief. How very timely."
In the corner of her eye she saw a tall figure with a hood covering his face. But she did not need to see him to know it was Otus Yaxley. She could hear the smile in his voice as he poked his wand into her chin and whispered, "Imperio." For a fraction of a second she fought the urge to drop to her knees but then she let her body go limp and slid to the floor in front of him, kneeling with her head bowed, staring at his finely tooled leather shoes. "Look up, Muggle bitch"—he grabbed her hair, yanking her head back—"and open your mouth. I've got something tasty for you." He reached into his robes.
There was a sharp clatter as the lift door opened and a thin, wild-eyed woman with dark, stained teeth emerged and screeched with manic laughter. "Put your bloody dick away, Yaxley!"
Julia had only seen the woman in pictures but she recognised Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Bella!" Yaxley protested, "your timing is abominable. Can't you see I'm busy?"
"We have more important things to do. We must get the prophecy from the Potter boy before the Dark Lord arrives. But Dumbledore is here and the traitor Black is dead."
Everything became still and quiet. The fear turned to pain. It could surely not be true, but a fury like nothing Julia had ever experienced ignited in her belly. It gave her the strength she needed to try out the self-defence move she had previously—and in a polite and restrained manner—practised only on a middle-aged but heavily built neighbour called Elaine. She dismissed the remnants of the Imperius curse and grabbed swiftly at the unprepared Yaxley's wand hand, using it to pull herself to her feet; and in the same move with all the speed and force she could muster, brought her knee up into his crotch. As Yaxley gave a high-pitched squeal and sank to the floor clutching at his vital parts, she snatched his wand and threw it as far along the corridor as she could.
Laughing scornfully, Bellatrix raised her own wand. Sickly green light flashed from it but Julia's fury burned with such intensity that she absorbed the curse almost without noticing. Bellatrix's face filled with horrified astonishment.
"Oh yes, you mad cow, you weren't expecting that, were you?" Putting another of her theoretical self-defence moves into action Julia jabbed Bellatrix in the face with her elbow and felt a most satisfying crunch. Bellatrix howled and reflexively put her hands to her face. Seizing Bellatrix's wand too, Julia sending it skittering along the floor after Yaxley's. For good measure she walloped Bellatrix hard across the head with the rucksack, knocking her over. The lift rattled again as it started to rise from the floor below
Yaxley was still curled up on the floor gasping. Without a shred of mercy, Julia kicked him between the legs again and he screamed like a pig at slaughter. Then as the lift started to open, she ran blindly, turning off down one corridor then another until she was quite lost.
Slowing to a walk she noticed blue sparks popping from the ends of her fingers. Her hair was standing up on end, and her heart was thudding as if it might fly from her chest. Shaking uncontrollably, she thought she might actually be about to die. She needed water. Feeling so terrible that she no longer cared if anyone saw her, she looked into one door after another, until at last she found a toilet. Ramming the bolt home, she dropped her bag, turned on the tap and plunged her head into the washbasin feeling the powerful charge she was carrying dissipate. Her heart slowed.
Sirius, she thought, dead? No, it didn't make sense. It couldn't be more than an hour since he had left her up on Level Three. She concentrated on keeping her head under the running tap until the cold water streaming over her neck and face became painful, then she lay down on the floor resting her wet head on the rucksack. For some time she stayed there, absently scratching at the itchy spots that had developed on her neck and the backs of her hands, listening to shouting and footsteps running past outside. Once, someone knocked and turned the knob but Julia groaned loudly and the person on the other side of the door muttered an embarrassed apology and retreated.
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Eventually she got up and retraced her steps until she was in familiar surroundings, then she headed for the Atrium and stepped into a scene of complete devastation. In shock she sat down on the dismembered golden arm of a centaur that lay on the ground amid the shattered remains of its own body. Hardly able to take it in, she surveyed the ruined Atrium. A few witches and wizards were weeping hysterically while others were stony faced with shock and fear. The now headless statue of the wizard that should have been at the centre of the fountain lay on its back, arms stretched up towards the ceiling. The polished floor was awash with water, and half a dozen goldfish flapped helplessly, suffocating in front of her. Not knowing what else to do she started collecting the slippery creatures in her hands and putting them back in the now perilously shallow pool. Then she sat down on the low wall surrounding the ruined fountain and wondered what to do next. Someone came and sat beside her, putting an arm round her. She looked up in joyful relief, but it was Remus. His face was streaked with dirt and blood.
"Remus?"
"I'm sorry, Julia. Sirius didn't make it."
She was confused. "Didn't make it where?"
Remus took her hand and shook his head wearily. "Julia, Sirius is dead."
An icy rock in her middle settled against her heart. She was numb and cold. "But he can't be," she explained. "He was fine when I left him. I want to see him."
Remus squeezed her hand tight."No, Julia, you can't. He fell behind the Veil."
"The Veil? But . . . then how do you know he's dead?"
"That's just how it is."
"No! You don't know that. No one knows!"
"Julia, please. Sirius is dead. He really is."
Julia remembered the first time she had seen Sirius, leaning casually against the ancient stove in his kitchen; and the last time she saw him, less than an hour ago, alive with the light of battle in his silver eyes. She remembered him lost in misery, and chasing a flock of pigeons into the morning sky, and laughing as she took his picture. Below her, above her, inside her.
Now Sirius was dead.
A howl of grief burst out in a flood of boiling tears. "It's my fault!" she wailed. "I brought him here! He said if I asked him not to go then he wouldn't. And I didn't ask! Remus, I couldn't ask that of him! But I should have!"
"Julia. Remus." They both turned to see Albus approaching. "Remus, I have to take Julia away now."
"Julia," said Remus standing up, "I wish you the very best in your life. I fear we won't meet again."
"Remus—what?"
He shook his head sadly. "I wish so many things had been different. Take care, Julia." He gave her another quick hug, turned, and hurried away without looking back.
"Julia," said Dumbledore, "we must get you back to Grimmauld Place without delay. Hold tight."
There was moment of deep, suffocating nausea, the world briefly turned inside out and then they were on the step of Number Twelve, and through the door. This time Julia knew there would be no great black dog to greet her, but she couldn't help looking up the empty stairs as if she might see him. A fresh wave of misery broke over her in terrible racking sobs. "I could have asked him to stay, Albus! I should have done, and then he would still be alive!"
Albus took hold of her shoulders firmly. "Julia, think about this. If Sirius had stayed here with you, then yes, he would still be alive now. But there is a high probability that one or more members of the Order—even one of the children—would have died. How do you think he would have taken that?"
After a few seconds she whispered brokenly,"He would have hated me for it."
"I believe in the course of time he would," said Dumbledore. "He was too fragile. And he understood, as I know you do, that the world at stake here is greater than any one person. Julia, you must be brave. Braver, perhaps, than you have ever been. We cannot stay here. With Sirius dead, the safety of our headquarters may be compromised. I need to know, did he give you anything from the house?"
"Oh. Yes, he did."
"Ah," the professor's voice was approving. "He had a sense of duty; he was just too headstrong. Will you get it for me?"
"But it's mine! He gave it to me!"
"I know he did, and it is indeed yours. I do not want to keep it, but there is something I need to do. Please make haste. Our time grows short."
Julia raced upstairs and retrieved the heavy enamelled egg from the bottom of the wardrobe where it was wrapped in the orange sweater. She hurried back to Albus who folded it into his robes. "You will have it again soon enough, my dear. In a few days you will find it in a desk in the cottage you have unexpectedly inherited. You will be travelling to it within the hour." He handed her an envelope.
She opened it. "A train ticket. To . . . Upper Layford? I don't even know where that is." She unfolded the letter and read it.
Prewett, Prewett and Strange: Solicitors.
Dear Ms Fenwick, It appears that you are the sole living relative and residuary legatee of Reginald Black Esquire, and therefore are the rightful owner of Layhill Cottage, Layhill, Staffordshire. You may collect the keys and deeds at your convenience from I. Prewett Esq, Mistletoe Cottage, Hillside Lane, Layhill.
"But this can't be right! I've never even heard of Reginald Black—" she looked at Albus, and the first glimmer of comprehension came to her. He wore an expression of great compassion.
"No! Albus, please! Not my memories! Not my memories of Sirius! Please! I promised him!" Realisation hit her. "He knew, didn't he? He knew you wouldn't let me remember."
"Your knowledge puts you in grave danger now. Both of you."
"What? How did you . . . ?"
"I know many things Julia; some indeed I would rather not. Voldemort will want to know why Bellatrix's curse didn't work on you. You should be dead. If he found you, Julia, your ability to absorb magical energy would soon be overwhelmed."
"But I'm no threat to him!"
"I suspect he will not see it that way."
"Will I . . . see you again?"
Albus looked sad. "I fear not, Julia. The war with Voldemort and his Death Eaters will be long, hard fought, and bitter. He will take many casualties. But remember, Julia; only the living grieve. The dead feel no pain."
He lifted his wand and she bowed her head before it.
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Julia shook her head to clear a momentary dizziness in the first light of a new day. Her cheeks were wet with tears. How strange, she thought, aware of a faint wash of a deep but unexplained grief and unease. It must be pregnancy causing the peculiar mood swings. Glancing up the quiet street, she checked her pocket to make sure she had her train ticket and the solicitor's letter, and felt something flat and hard. Her little brass plaque. You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps. How could she have forgotten? She'd had it so long she couldn't recall how she had come by it. Why was it in her pocket?
She shrugged and put it back, hitched her rucksack up on to her shoulders and set off briskly for the station; nervous but excited about the new life waiting for her.
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