Chapter Thirty-Six: Counting the Cost
Amanda had warned him that it was coming, and Sirius had told a few others. Thankfully, he'd not wasted any time in doing so; as matters turned out, he had only a few days to spare. But he did spend a few hours first thinking quietly on Avalon, sitting in his rooms there and asking himself honestly what his options were. Refusal wasn't one of them, so when he did share the information Amanda had leaked, he did so with his mind made up.
Alice, Frank, Bill and Hestia were coolly analytical about it and helped Sirius work the details of his plan out. James, Peter, and Remus were horrified and frightened, but after several hours of arguing and agonizing…they understood. James even conceded that Sirius' plan was better than available alternatives, painful though it would be. But Julia—Julia was devastated. She was collected and quiet, of course, but Sirius could see the fear in her eyes. Julia understood far too well.
But he had to go, and she understood, that, too. And Julia wasn't a bit surprised by the delivery method. No, her smile was bitter and hurt, and Sirius felt her hand tense in his as the cool voice interrupted the Weird Sisters' newest single playing on the WWN.
She wasn't so much worried about what was said as who said it, and Sirius could see the question in her eyes. The fear that everything an old friend had once told her had become a lie.
Which side is he on?
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Severus Snape laid down the cold ultimatum in clipped tones, demonstrating no emotion whatsoever. His announcement overrode every program on every wireless station, and the talk shows played it and replayed it a hundred times over again by the end of that first day. Speculation ran wild, and by the end of the day, radio personalities and reporters alike were calling Severus Snape "the Voice of the Dark Lord." But that was only after they'd worn out the other question.
Will he go?
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The ultimatum was simple. Straightforward. Unforgiving. There were no questions to be asked save the one, and only one man could answer that. Only one man knew what was going to be done about:
The Dark Lord holds one hundred and twenty-one children in Azkaban Prison.
Their ages range from four to twelve years old.
He requires Sirius Black or they will all die.
Mister Black will surrender himself to the Dark Lord's messengers at two o' clock tomorrow afternoon.
If he does not, a child's body will be delivered to the Ministry of Magic. One will be delivered every hour until this requirement is met.
The Dark Lord's messengers will await Mister Black in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
That is all.
Voldemort's ultimatum created silence on the wireless like the Wizarding community had never experienced before. Shocked, reporters and commentators stayed silent. Theme music wore down to a stop. Everyone just…stared.
And no one dared tell Sirius Black what to do.
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A crowd gathered outside the Ministry of Magic almost immediately, quiet and civilized—not an angry or violent group at all. Mostly, they wanted to see what would happen. What Sirius would choose. But no speeches were made. No ministers emerged to reassure the crowd, to ease the knowledge of such a horrid choice: loss of their hero, their hope…or the deaths of children, of the future. Opinions were divided. No one could decide. No information was forthcoming.
Press secretaries at the Ministry spent the day issuing various versions of "no comment" to every reporter in Wizarding Europe and many concerned citizens. They had no further answers to give, anyway; no one had seen Sirius Black since before the ultimatum had been issued. Lily kept a close eye on them (after all, the press secretaries were just as curious as everyone else) while James struggled to pretend that life went on. Fought to contain his worry. Tried to tell himself that everything would turn out all right, that the friend he'd sent to Azkaban once before would come out again.
Had James thought Voldemort would even consider it, he would have offered himself instead. Anything not to watch his best friend walk into hell again.
Eventually, he headed out to Avalon for the briefing.
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"Operation ICEBREAKER TWO." Alice was giving the pre-mission briefing herself, which told every Auror in the room how important the mission was. Looking around, James saw anticipation on every young face. Even most of the old timers looked ready to do, expecting the operation to take place that evening or night. After all, one of the Aurors' oldest maxims was to do anything other than what the enemy wanted you to do. If Voldemort wanted Sirius tomorrow, they figured that they'd give him an attack tonight.
"Those of you who were in the Aurors for the original Operation ICEBREAKER remember our target: Azkaban." There was no smile on Alice's face. Usually all business, Alice took seriousness and focus to a new level that day; something in her seemed to crackle dangerously. "ICEBREAKER TWO will have the same goal." A line drawing of the prison complex appeared on the wall behind Alice.
"Upon gaining access to Azkaban, we will split into four teams. Team One will be led by Hestia Jones and will be responsible for overall security and capture of any and all Death Eaters we come across. They will kill as necessary and keep the other teams safe.
"Team Two will be led by Frank Longbottom. Their focus will be rescuing the children and evacuating as soon as that is done. This team will be split into three subgroups, one for each of the three main cell blocks. Each subgroup leader will carry a Portkey that will transport the children directly to Avalon. Healers will be here on the island waiting for them and any Aurors who are injured in the assault. Auror Candidate Class 4906 will supervise the healers. Class 4907 will assist with the children as they arrive, providing food, blankets, and a change of clothes. Candidates Blinkey and Dantes will take names as the children arrive."
Alice paused and looked around for questions. There were none; only intense faces staring back at her. Everyone knew that this was a pre-mission brief; each team would go over the particulars later amongst themselves. But it was important for every Auror to know the overall plan, because oftentimes the smallest confusion was deadly. As the image on the board behind her zoomed out to show Voldemort's palace in addition to the prison, Alice continued:
"Meanwhile, Team Three will hunt Dementors. I will lead this team. We will take out other targets of opportunity as the situation allows. Our secondary duty is to support Team Four.
"Team Four will be led by Bill Weasley and Sirius Black, if Sirius is available. If Sirius is not, Team Four will fold into Team Three and hunt Dementors. If Sirius is capable, Team Four will hunt Voldemort."
The hush was sudden. James felt the tension flooding into the room, thick enough to taste in the air. And slowly, inevitably, all heads turned to stare at Sirius, who was leaning on the back wall. After a long moment of silence, the head Auror shrugged away from the wall and walked to the front of the room. He spoke as he moved:
"Voldemort will expect an attack tonight. He knows our tactics and our operational procedures as well as we do. Much of his ultimatum is designed to draw us out and into a place and situation of his choosing. By assaulting Azkaban tonight, we would play right into his hands. And we would die."
Everyone stared. James felt sick. There's no avoiding it now.
"I will turn myself over to Voldemort's 'messengers' tomorrow afternoon. Stage One of ICEBREAKER TWO will commence when I do so. Stage Two will commence three days later when the rest of you hit Azkaban."
James could not believe how level and businesslike Sirius' voice was. Not too long had passed since James had been an active Auror, but he could not imagine facing Azkaban so calmly…especially given Sirius' previous experience. Judging from the look on the other Aurors' faces, they agreed with James.
Oscar Whitenack spoke up.
"What if he kills you during those three days?"
Sirius smiled slightly, knowing that he appeared more light hearted than he was. Knowing that he had to. "I'm betting that he won't. If he does, Stage Two will have to be scrapped and ICEBREAKER TWO will have to be reconfigured for employment on a later date," he replied. "However, I doubt he will kill me during the first three days. Three days should be enough to convince him that any plans we have working have failed and he has what he wants."
"Three days is an awful long time to spend in Voldemort's hands," Jason Clearwater pointed out quietly.
"True. But it's better than the alternative of letting children die." Sirius folded his arms across his chest and looked out at the worried faces. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm not at all eager to hand myself to him. Frankly, I probably want to be there less than you want me to be. But this is our best chance to save lives and get into Azkaban. So I'll do it. I'll still be functional after three days."
He met James' eyes briefly and flashed his friend a quick smile.
"I will be your Portkey for the entrance to Azkaban. Experience has proven that Voldemort can and will identify any objects we can hide on a human being, so I will be going in without my wand. Bill will bring it with him for the assault.
"Your entrance point is variable because I am not certain where Voldemort will keep me. However, I will probably be in one of the highest security cells…here." Sirius turned and tapped the bottom row of cells on the map. "The other end of the Portkey will be my wand, which is why Team Four and Bill will be the last ones in. You will have to use the Key by teams or my cell will get awfully tight."
James noticed that Sirius skipped very neatly over what Sirius probably saw as the most trivial part of his brief. Every Auror in the room, however, knew that creating a Living Portkey was one of the most difficult spells to manage, and doing so without a wand almost guaranteed failure. Creating any Portkey was difficult (not to mention highly regulated by the Ministry, which certainly wouldn't be an issue in this case), but creating an exterior link to a person was extremely advanced magic. Sirius continued:
"The Portkey will not work unless I am in the cell. The assault is tentatively scheduled for midnight or later because even Death Eaters must sleep. But…we'll find out when we get there.
"Alice has briefed the rest. Are there any questions?"
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She created the inevitable scene, kicking and screaming and hollering that she'd worked at the Daily Prophet for so many years and they had no right to dispose of her in such a cavalier manner. Looked at objectively, her diatribe was rather poetic, perhaps even worthy of publishing. But at the end of the day, Rita Skeeter no longer worked at the most prestigious of Wizarding Britain's newspapers.
She turned west and went immediately to the offices of The Quibbler. There, she was told that The Quibbler only printed facts and wasn't interested in unscrupulous reporting. After throwing another tantrum, Skeeter Apparated back to Diagon Alley and tried Witches Weekly for one last try. There, too, she was turned away. Even laughed at a bit.
The Wizarding publishing community was a close one, though Rita Skeeter had always been a bit of an outcast. Her self-absorbed arrogance assured thatBesides, though there were few rules—reporting was mostly a free for all—their tight-knit fraternity could only tolerate so much. For years, Skeeter had fabricated scandals for her own benefit. But now she'd crossed the unbreakable line.
There was a well-known axiom in the publishing business: no one was untouchable. Politicians were fair game. Famous figures made good targets. Children were easily exploited, and Quidditch players never knew when to shut up. Genuine heroes, however, were to be respected. Such figures came along rarely, and oftentimes the various sides of the media quadrangle could not even agree on what was defined as 'heroic'…let alone who was a hero. But when they did agree, that line existed. It was not to be crossed. Real heroes were untouchable.
And the Wizarding media was through with listening to Rita vilify Sirius Black. Enough, Daily Prophet editor Barnabas Cuffe was heard to say, was enough. If Rita wanted to continue her Black-bashing, she could go become a Death Eater and make a profession out of it.
She might have. Upon leaving the Witches Weekly offices, no one was sure where she headed. Only that she was gone.
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"You're crazy, you know." Bill spoke as he approached where Sirius stood on the old Receiving Dock, looking northeast across the water.
Towards Azkaban.
Sirius smiled slightly, not bothering to turn as Bill stepped up to his side. "This is new?"
"I've tried this before, you realize. In the first ICEBREAKER. He found me out right away and played with me the rest of the time."
"I know, Bill." Sirius finally turned to face the younger Auror. He answered seriously because Bill deserved to have his concerns addressed—he had gone through a lot to try to make this mission work the first time around. "And I know he'll expect me to try something. But I have a few advantages you didn't then."
"All the same, it's one hell of a risk, Sirius. If we lose you…"
Sirius cut him off. Didn't want to hear the rest. "Yeah, it is. But this is also a chance to kill Voldemort, and I'll risk damn near anything for that. He's been avoiding me for months, been staying safe." He spat the last word and felt a predatory grin crease his face. "But not this time. Voldemort wants me, and he's going to get me."
"That's definitely the truth." Bill smiled wryly. "I didn't think I'd talk you out of it, but I figured that I'd try."
"James beat you to it." Sirius returned the smile and then looked back out over the water. James had also pointed out that Sirius was inhumanely calm about this and had been a bit worried about that. And not worried without cause. Yet this was the chance Sirius had been waiting for. The chance to get in close and maybe end the war once and for all. Voldemort feared him. Sirius had known that for some time but now the public did—or would. Sooner or later, the rest of the world was going to realize what Voldemort's ultimatum really signified: Sirius was a threat that Voldemort had to remove.
He didn't have a death wish, but Sirius figured that Voldemort's fear indicated that Sirius had a fighting chance. He'd take that.
James was nervous about that. Bill seemed to be, too. But Sirius saw no reason to keep putting off the inevitable encounter. He was as ready as he'd ever be, and it was time to do the job. Before I lose any more of my friends to that monster.
"The sun's out," Bill said abruptly, jerking Sirius away from his darker thoughts.
Sirius jumped. "Is it?" He'd not noticed.
"Yeah. Strange."
For months, Avalon's weather had been exclusively gloomy, tending towards violent storms. The night before had hosted a mammoth thunder storm, with wind and rain pelting the Aurors' Island mercilessly. In fact, the weather on Avalon had vividly reminded Sirius of Azkaban ever since the storms had started during the previous fall, dark and gloomy, oppressive to an extreme. Even when the Aurors had managed Azkaban, the weather had been lousy. The prison and the Aurors' Island had been polar opposites back then: Avalon, clear and sunny; Azkaban, dark and miserable. This truth had held until the threat of Voldemort grew greater. As the war grew even more harsh, Avalon's weather began to mirror that of Azkaban. Now, after so many months of gloom, the Aurors were used to the darkness. But this—this was different.
He was suddenly reminded of reading Rowena Ravenclaw's On Avalon long ago, back when he and Moody had returned to the island for refresher training. It had seemed like the least-read book in the library, so Sirius—still in his rebellious stage—had picked it up. No one ever expected him the rash and obnoxious "Black Sheep" to read a scholarly work, so of course he did. But he'd forgotten everything he'd learned over time.
Until now. Until the sun broke over Avalon and Sirius remembered that the Isle of Light's history ran deeper than the Aurors' presence upon her shores. The Aurors had existed in Britain since the Romans came forty-three years into the first millennium of the current age, but they had not come to Avalon until centuries later. Ravenclaw had only hypothesized about Avalon's origins and the isle's history, but she had maintained that the island was older than the Aurors and had a far deeper significance. One phrase stuck out in his mind, remembered from that long ago reading: "Avalon is a barometer. As goes the World, so goes the Isle."
So goes the Isle.
The sun was shining. He could hear birds singing.
As goes the world.
He was about to turn himself over to one of the most evil wizards in history in hopes of killing him. He was taking yet another rash chance and holding on for a miracle.
So goes the world?
Could that mean that the war was finally going to end?
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He desperately wanted to talk to Julia. Needed to talk to someone who understood divided loyalties, conflicting obligations, and the base desire to survive. He'd recruited her for the Order, once. He had taught her to play both sides, sympathizing with his old friend when the decisions grew harder and harder. He'd understood, then, and badly needed someone to return that understanding now.
But Julia wouldn't understand. Couldn't. She'd chosen her side, for better or for worse. She'd stopped lurking on the line and had made her stand. They were no longer alike.
Not for the first time, Severus wished he hadn't stabbed Remus that stormy night. Wished he'd not believed himself when he'd known what he had to do.
Yet—he closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. "Regrets," Severus whispered to himself, "are for the weak minded."
Things had to be bad if he was talking to himself. Perhaps it was a sign of impending madness—Severus would not have been terribly surprised if that was the next stage of his life. He was accustomed to living under extreme pressure, but his present stress level had even him ready to buckle. The reaction was probably due to loneliness, Severus knew. No one really understood—least of all him. He had questions, but never any answers.
But he could take pen to paper.
Julia,
Please do not disregard this letter because I am your enemy. I hope that
being your loyal friend will always come first.
I know you love him, though I may never understand why. Do not let him
go. The Dark Lord will kill him if he comes. I know Black well enough to
understand that he assumes that he will have time. He will not. The Dark
Lord grows more desperate every day.
If you love him, do not allow this. Please understand that this is no idle
threat. I fear for you.
Your old friend,
Severus Snape
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They ate a quiet dinner together at Grimmauld Place, secreted away from reporters and curious stares. Sirius had thought about taking Julia out to Salamander's, but realized how cavalier that would look and changed his plans. Besides, the Floo had been going non-stop with requests for interviews, and Sirius wanted this one last night to be just them. Even the other Marauders stayed away. They understood. Just in case.
Julia was nervous, for understandable reasons. So was Sirius, and he knew that he'd be plagued by nightmares that night, if he managed to sleep at all. But Julia covered her unease rather well, managing to smile a little and even laugh from time to time. Still, tension simmered under the surface. There was no point in denying what tomorrow might bring.
They talked little about his choice. Julia knew Sirius well enough to only try talking him out of it once; she understood that this risk would have to be taken sooner or later… Like Sirius, however, she wished the day for it came much later. Earlier, Bill might have gotten the impression that Sirius made the choice flippantly, that he was eager to face death and sacrifice everything. And maybe he was. But sitting on the couch with Julia, he was only conscious of how very much he stood to lose.
Conversation centered on innocent topics for hours, but as the evening wore on, the focus was inevitable.
"I wish you wouldn't go," Julia said softly, one last time. She was nestled in crook of his arm, held comfortably against Sirius' chest.
"Me, too." Sirius kissed the hop of her head, struggling to keep his tone light. "But I'm coming back. I promise."
"I—" Her voice finally cracked. "I'm afraid to hope."
"I know. But I know I'm coming back. Do you know why?"
Her laugh was somewhat forced. "Because you're stubborn, obnoxious, and indestructible?"
"There is that." Sirius smiled. "But also because I'm going to marry you. If you'll let me."
Julia gasped. Her entire body jumped against his.
Sirius slipped off the couch, dropping to one knee and taking both of her hand sin his own. "I know it's not a conventional proposal. I know it's bad timing. But I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I don't want to wait until I come back to let you know that it is my intention." He stared into her startled gray eyes. "And that's my promise to you. I'll come back. For you."
"No." The longest heartbeat of Sirius' life ticked by as the devilish smirk creased Julia's face. "Not unless you give me a ring, anyway."
A wild laugh escaped Sirius until he cut it off by kissing her. He felt drunk, numb, and like he was flying. But this was better than flying. Julia always had been.
She pulled back to grin in his face.
"The ring, you overgrown adolescent."
And Sirius gave it to her, the product of two months of searching and being shot down by Lily every time. He'd finally settled on a Aesalon family heirloom that he found buried in his Gringotts' vault. The Aesalons were long extinct. But both the Malfoys and Blacks had strong blood ties to them. The ring was over four hundred years old, yet looked brand new. It seemed a good summary of everything Sirius and Julia had grown into…and all their blood demanded they be. A ring from a time before lines were drawn and wars began. Unity mattered.
The ring was perfect. So was the moment.
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Julia didn't get the letter until the next day.
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Ye Other Author's Note: Thank you for all the wonderful feedback on the last chapter—it certainly encouraged me to make time and get this one out sooner than I might have! Stay tuned for PD37: "Losing What You'll Never Get Back," and please continue to let me know what you think! ReviewsCookies for Authors. And me like cookies.