Chapter Fifty-One
Persian Rugs
July 3rd, 1976
Mia's screams echoed off the walls of the manor.
"JAMIE!"
Falling to her knees in front of Sirius's body, her skin ran cold as she saw the blood-soaked robes wrapped around him. His left arm was cradled tightly against his chest, tucked beneath the fabric, while his right hand gripped the silver chain around his neck so tightly he had lost all colour in his fingers. He did not move of his own accord, but as she leant down and put her hands on his face, he flinched and his muscles seized at the touch.
She sobbed as she realised what had happened: he had been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. She made her touches a bit firmer, knowing from personal experience that soft caresses actually hurt more. The seizing that came in the aftermath sometimes hurt nearly as badly as the curse itself, but if the muscles were held tightly in place, it took the edge off.
Mia choked back more tears as she tilted his head toward her, angling his face so that he could look her straight in the eye. "Sirius, look at me, love. Open your eyes, please? Sirius, please look at me."
"Hello, beautiful," he rasped, his grey eyes slowly opening to look up at her.
"JAMIE!" she screamed again. "TILLY!"
The house-elf appeared, large eyes widening. "Young Master Black? Young Miss, he is needing a Healer right now. Yes, right now."
James came running into the room, wand drawn, his gaze falling immediately on Sirius. "Padfoot!" he yelled frantically and fell to the floor. "What happened to him?"
"He is getting to St Mungo's," Tilly insisted. "Tilly will Apparate him."
"I'm not leaving him," Mia said, shaking her head and ignoring the way that the movement caused the tears in the corners of her eyes to blur her vision. "We'll take the Floo. Jamie, grab the powder. Tilly, go find Mum and Dad, and tell them what happened."
James rushed to the fireplace to grab a fistful of Floo powder just as Tilly vanished from sight. "Mia? What did happen?"
Sirius groaned when Mia adjusted him in her arms. "All right there, Prongs?"
Mia wiped her eyes as James returned to Sirius's side. His eyes were filled with unshed tears, looking as though pure panic was the only thing keeping him from breaking down. "What happened, Pads?" he asked with quiet urgency.
Sirius did not answer, his head lolling to the side, and the colour draining from his face.
"All right, we'll hear about it all later. Let's get him to a Healer." James nodded to Mia, kneeling down to help her adjust Sirius's weight before lifting him.
"Mia . . ." Sirius whispered.
She looked down at his face as she followed her brother to the fireplace, her lip quivering at the sight of the blood dripping onto the hearth. Forcing herself to focus, she cupped Sirius's face in her hands, wanting to kiss away every ounce of pain. If she could take it herself, she would have. "Yes, love?"
"Am I a better man yet?" he whispered desperately.
At his words, she sobbed into his sweat-soaked hair, holding onto him tightly as James yelled, "St Mungo's!" and took all three of them away at the same time in a blaze of green.
"WHERE IS HE?"
On high alert with her adrenaline pumping and paranoia at the forefront of her thoughts, Mia let her Animagus instincts take over. Even through the magical wards she had created and the hustle and bustle of the busy hospital, she could hear her mother's piercing voice echoed through the doors of the ground floor. The words echoed as though they were magically amplified through the corridors and up the lift; they probably reached the roof where a flock of pigeons took flight, terrified of the sound that reverberated off the walls and penetrated through the foundation.
The windows around Sirius's room were large, and Mia watched from the corner where she could see the double doors blown open, and Dorea burst through, using wandless magic and likely rage to move any obstacles out of her way.
One such obstacle appeared to be a frightened girl, trailing behind next to Charlus. "You can't just come up here. You need to be properly checked in.
Charlus winced at the girl's words just as Dorea turned on the girl. "I can and will come up here, and if you think that a pesky little chit like you is going to stop me, then I dare you—little girl—to try my patience!"
The girl nearly burst into tears.
Mia growled when she watched a familiar Healer move past the window toward her parents.
"What's happening?" James whispered from the corner.
"Quiet," she muttered and tilted her head to the side so that she could focus on eavesdropping.
"What's all this commotion out here? Do I need to call the Aurors?" the Healer asked, reaching for his wand.
"I apologise for the disruption," Charlus said, approaching the man. "We're here to see—"
"Our son! Our house-elf told us he was brought in after . . ." Dorea said, swallowing hard. "She said he was tortured."
"You're Sirius Black's parents?"
"Yes," Dorea replied immediately. "Where are my children?"
The Healer held his hands out in supplication. When Dorea looked like she was no longer on the verge of attacking, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm Gerald Wainscott; I run this floor. Come with me," he instructed and turned, leading Mia's parents into the next room and out of her sight.
She moved to the other side of the room, pressing her hand against the wall and muttering a spell that pushed her ward out into the room next door. She focused her energy on her hearing.
"I know you're not the boy's parents, but . . . you say the other two teenagers are yours?"
"Yes," Charlus said, "but Sirius is—"
"I'm sorry sir, I can't give you any information on Mr Black. That being said, we do require your assistance." The Healer cleared his throat. "Your son and daughter brought Mr Black in a half hour ago. The Healers rushed him to a room to clean his wounds, but when your children were asked to leave—they refused, and things got . . . unpleasant."
Mia huffed. That man had tried to separate her from Sirius's side. If he tried again, he would see just how unpleasant she could get.
"Take us to them," Charlus demanded.
Mia heard footsteps and a door opening, and she moved back toward the window, feeling defensive magic glide over her skin like armour. She watched from the corner window as her parents likely saw the crew outside the door. Last she counted, there were five Healers, two Aurors, and another wizard in long brown robes that Mia was certain was a Curse-Breaker.
Wainscott turned to Charlus and Dorea. "When my staff tried to physically remove your children from Mister Black's room, they were attacked."
Charlus's eyes narrowed. "Our children were attacked?"
Audibly seething, Wainscott shook his head. "No, sir. Your children attacked my staff."
Charlus looked aghast. Dorea looked proud.
"Then your daughter warded the room against everyone, saying that they would not be separated. We had to call in a curse breaker to try and get in." He gestured to the wizard in the long brown robes who looked utterly frustrated. He made the mistake of making eye contact with Mia through the window, and she bared her teeth at him.
Dorea moved swiftly to the window, pulling Mia's gaze away from the Curse-Breaker.
Somehow, her defensive magic receded, and Mia turned around, moving back to Sirius's bed where James sat. Ignoring the talking outside of the room, she went back to tending to Sirius's wounds. She did not want to see her mother's face. She knew what they all looked like, clothes and skin stained with Sirius's blood.
Sirius himself was lying in the bed, his exposed chest clean but layered with dark purple bruises and deep cuts to which Mia meticulously reapplied Dittany to from a small bottle. Sirius seized up in pain, his muscles stiffening.
James reached for his hand, burying his forehead into the side of the bed, unable to watch while Mia used her arm to wipe tears from her eyes before continuing to heal more cuts on Sirius's neck.
"We need to get in that room," Wainscott said to the Potters.
"My children won't leave," Dorea insisted.
"Only family can—"
"We are family," Charlus asserted, his temper sounding like it was getting the better of him. "That boy in there is our son. We'll get your Healers in the bloody room, but in the meantime, send someone to a Floo and contact Alphard Black." Before Wainscott replied, Charlus added, "Oh, and nothing happens to our children. They meant no harm; they're only frightened."
Mia could only assume that the Aurors and Healers nodded. She did not look up from Sirius to confirm, not until her father quietly called out to her.
"Mia, love, take down the wards."
Mia and James both looked up at the noise.
James looked relieved at the sight of their parents, but Mia was still on edge as though she were awaiting an attack. A part of her could not separate the smell of Sirius's blood and the memory of her own back at Malfoy Manor under Bellatrix's blade. She gripped her wand tightly in her hand as she carefully tried to read the expressions on her parents' faces. Her father looked calm but stern, which was not helping ease the tension in her shoulders.
Her mother placed a hand on the glass and made eye contact, offering Mia a kind smile that broke her. She acquiesced and lowered the wards with a wave of her wand, the door unlocking and cracking open.
When the Healers rushed in before her parents, James's stance changed completely, and she could feel his Animagus spirit practically being pushed from his body like an astral projection. She could feel her eyes turn amber as she glared at the group. Both lifted their wands, and Mia put her body in front of Sirius.
"Mia," Charlus said, pushing his way through the Healers. "They're only here to help. You've done wonderfully." He slowly reached for her, lowering her wand hand before pulling her into a tight hug.
Dorea did the same to James on the other side.
Charlus kissed the top of her head as she broke into tears. "You did wonderfully, my girl."
"What happened?" Dorea finally asked, watching as the Healers moved around Sirius's bed, a few muttering admiringly about Mia's healing, but one looking carefully at Sirius's left arm while another waved his wand over his body.
Looking up at her mother through her tears, Mia whispered, "They . . . tried to force the Dark Mark on him."
They had been at it for hours, but Sirius would not break.
He had known, when his parents met him at King's Cross Station, that something was not right. His friends had known something was wrong as well, and he clung to the images of their faces as his weakened body hit the floor—again and again. He looked down and watched as droplets of blood—from the recent wound to the side of his head—fell on the hardwood floors of his family home. Consciously, he pivoted his body so that his head hung over the twelve-hundred-year-old Persian rug, grinning as he bled onto one of his mother's favoured possessions, staining it with his blood.
Pure blood. He snorted at the thought. Pure blood spilt in his own home.
"You informed me that he would be ready, Orion," a chilling utterance came from the corner of the room.
Sirius had not seen the man speaking, nor had he seen the faces of anyone, save for his own family members.
He had arrived home a week earlier and was immediately thrown into and subsequently locked inside his room. It did not bother him, of course, not until it became clear that food was being withheld from him. He called for the elves, though Kreacher was the only one to come to him, instructed to only give Sirius water. By the end of the week, cut off from food and the world, Sirius was starved and barely able to stand.
They wanted him weak and broken.
But Sirius would not break.
Walburga came to his room, instructing him to bathe and dress in his finest robes. Unable to fight her when she insisted that she would have the elves do it for him if he would not, Sirius begrudgingly obeyed.
When he was led down the stairs to the drawing room, a circle of masked figures met him. His eyes widened, and he scowled at the sight of them: Death Eaters. Long, pale blond hair peeked out of the mask of one Death Eater, and Sirius knew it was Malfoy. He had lunged forward, but his cousin Bellatrix was there, all too eager to fling Sirius to the ground where she set a curse on his flesh, slicing and cutting his skin, bleeding him out onto his robes to further weaken him—a sacrifice to her master.
"He is ready my Lord," Orion insisted, his head bowed. "He is sixteen, just as you requested."
"I requested nothing. I required him to be at least sixteen, but he also needed to come willingly and offer sacrifice. I do not intend to Imperius every last follower into understanding and obedience."
"Perhaps a little persuasion is useful, my Lord?" Bellatrix cooed lovingly in the direction of the hooded figure. Sirius wanted to vomit, but there was nothing in his stomach to throw up. He turned his head to the side and watched as the hooded figure gave a short, quick nod and Bellatrix turned, her eyes alight with ecstasy and madness.
Then the Cruciatus Curse began.
Pain unlike any he had ever known filled his body, flames licking at his nerve endings while knives simultaneously stabbed into his muscles, pinning him to the ground yet forcing him to thrash at the same time. He screamed as the pain racked through him.
Still, Sirius would not break.
Behind the screams that his body made involuntarily, Sirius clenched his eyes tightly and focused as hard as he could. James, Remus, Peter, Mia. Flying above the pitch with the wind in his hair. Winning the Quidditch Cup. Ducking into secret passages to avoid Filch and his silly cat. Pranking Slytherins. Sneaking into Hogsmeade. Firewhisky and pumpkin pasties and Chocolate Frogs. Christmas at Potter Manor. Nights in the Shrieking Shack with his pack. Prongs, Moony, Wormtail . . . Mia.
Mia.
"Never!" Sirius screamed as the Cruciatus Curse ended, and he struggled to stand. In frustration, Bellatrix hit him hard on the side of his head, knocking him back to the floor where he found himself now, bleeding on his mother's favourite Persian rug.
"Does the boy love anything?" the stranger asked. "His family perhaps? Would he join our cause should their lives be threatened?"
Sirius panted heavily, licking blood from his lip before spitting it onto the rug. "Not . . . even . . . if you let me kill them . . . myself."
"Kill the brother."
"No!" Walburga screamed and fell to her knees before the hooded figure. "My Lord, I beg you, kill this whelp instead." She gestured to Sirius's shaking, bleeding, sweating body adding, "My Regulus is as noble and pure as you could ever require. Even at his young age, he would willingly seek your approval and bear your mark."
"Is that so?"
Walburga bowed her head. "I will fetch him for you, my Lord."
"No need." The man shook his head. "Bring him to me when he turns sixteen; in the meantime, what will we do with this stubborn heir?"
"Break him."
At the sound of Lucius Malfoy's words, Sirius growled; he felt his body go stiff before he could do anything else. It was not a Full Body-Bind Curse, as he was still able to struggle, but Malfoy had his wand trained on him, forcibly extending Sirius's left arm.
"Willingly or not, he will be marked; he can prove himself worthy of it later," Lucius hissed, walking forward and stepping on Sirius's hand to hold him in place. "My Lord, if I may do the honours?"
The hooded figure seemed to ponder the request for a moment before nodding.
Lucius turned and stared down, silver eyes so wide Sirius could almost see the grin behind them. Malfoy leant down and pressed the tip of his wand into the flesh of Sirius's arm.
Sirius let out a howl as the skin began to burn. Knowing he had to do it to stop the Dark Magic from touching him, he turned violently, snapping the bones in his arm and breaking the contact with Lucius's wand in the process. The pain was cold and sharp, but it was bearable compared to the Cruciatus.
"Stubborn, stupid Gryffindor!" Lucius hissed.
"I tire of this travesty," the stranger said, and he stood to leave the room. "Do not call me again, Orion, Walburga, until you have a worthy child." He Apparated with a booming CRACK!
"You rotten blood-traitor!" Bellatrix screamed, throwing another Cruciatus that made the cold pain in Sirius's broken arm feel like fire.
"Bella, enough!" Walburga shouted. "Leave him. We have to make plans. I'll deal with this stain on my House later."
In response, Sirius defiantly spat more blood onto her ugly, expensive rug.
The drawing room emptied slowly, as the occupants left one by one.
Sirius remained, bleeding on the Persian rug, watching as it slowly stained red. He could not help but smirk at the sight as he fell in and out of consciousness. Gryffindor red, he thought with a chuckle.
"Salazar," came a whisper from a dark corner. Sirius looked up to see Regulus cautiously approach. "Are you even still alive?"
Sirius coughed in reply, the metallic taste of blood burning the back of his throat. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.
Regulus's eyes widened. "Why didn't you just do it?"
Sirius tried to smile, but his muscles seized, and he grimaced through the pain. "You know me, Reg. I've always been a trendsetter—not one to follow blindly." He fought for a breath but it took several tries to fill his lungs. "Besides, you saw their robes. Fucking hideous. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing those ugly things."
"You're out of your mind."
"Nope." Sirius swallowed hard as relief came over him at the feel of cold silver against his chest. He had not had a moment to think about it until now, but when he remembered Mia's gift, he almost cried. "I'm out of here. Reg, come with me. Come with me, get out of this place . . . 'cause you're next."
Regulus shook his head. "I'm not like you, Sirius. I'll go willingly. They won't hurt me."
"They will. One day," Sirius said regretfully, pulling his broken and burned left arm to his chest, hissing at the sharp, stinging pain. He looked up at his brother one more time and sighed, gripping the silver chain around his neck. "Portus!"
The Healers had been able to put a stop to Sirius's seizing, but when one caused him to involuntarily flinch while applying a burn paste to his arm, Mia and James both stood defensively, drawing their wands. It was the last straw for the Healers who—after a sizable donation by the gracious Potter family—allowed Mia to tend to Sirius on her own.
James eventually fell asleep in the corner of the room, and she took the time to send a message through the charmed Galleon to Remus to let him know what had happened and to insist that he not come. She and James were having a hard enough time keeping their own tempers in check, the last thing they needed was an overprotective werewolf roaming the halls of the hospital.
Alphard Black stood out in the hallway with her parents, Mia listening to every word.
"As Head of your House, Alphard, you have the ability to do it," Dorea whispered.
"Of course, Dorea, if it's not too much trouble."
"Sirius is no trouble to us," Dorea insisted, and Charlus chuckled softly. "Well, he's nothing but trouble, but he's been our trouble since he was a young boy." After a moment she added, "You're certain Walburga and Orion won't come for him?"
Alphard sighed. "Absolutely. When I got to Grimmauld Place to find out what happened, he'd already been blasted off the tapestry. Walburga has lost her mind. Here's Sirius's wand. I found it on the floor next to a rug that was . . . I feel that if I took him in, it would only cause more problems. Cygnus, Orion, and Walburga have been fighting with me since father put me in charge. Merlin knows why the man did it."
"He's a smart man," Dorea insisted.
Alphard gave a sad laugh that carried weight and burden despite his youthful age. "Sirius will be safe with you when he's not at Hogwarts."
"Be realistic, Alphard," Dorea responded irritably. "Death Eaters tried to mark a sixteen-year-old boy against his will tonight. In his own home, at the behest of his own parents. No one is safe. We're officially at war."
"That may be true. Forgive me, Dorea, it has been a long night for all of us. I will set the guardianship papers in order tonight and send them to the Ministry immediately Monday morning. I still think it would be safer were you to officially adopt him, but you're right; he is still the heir to our House, despite the fact that I've already received several urgent owls from Walburga insisting that I give Regulus the title."
Mia could only imagine the dark look on Dorea's face that would have been interpreted as a threat if he was stupid enough to go against her.
"Tell Sirius I will be in touch. Please, thank your children for taking good care of him. Your daughter seems to be especially protective."
"Maybe she'll become a Healer," Dorea said. "Mia, dear? Would you be a love and get your mother a cup of tea?"
Sighing irritably at being caught eavesdropping, Mia nodded, knowing her mother was just tricking her into leaving the room. If I get her tea, she'll figure I'll get some for myself. Well, she decided despite her dislike of being manipulated, I could use some tea.
As she moved through an open corridor on her way to fetch the drinks, Mia caught a familiar smell and turned toward the direction of the scent. Suspicious, she moved forward and growled when she caught sight of Lucius Malfoy stepping out of a room, his trademark sneer on his face and long pale hair flowing behind him as he stormed away from an open door. She moved to follow him but stopped to peek inside the room he had vacated.
A stricken Narcissa Malfoy sat in a hospital bed, hands over her eyes, weeping into her palms.
Mia raised a brow, her feet leading her into the room on their own. "Narcissa?"
The blonde's head shot up, eyes wide. "What are you doing here?"
"Are you okay?" Mia asked, genuinely concerned for the witch.
"Obviously not. I'm in hospital!" Narcissa snarled.
"I saw your husband just leave," Mia said, ignoring Narcissa's sour attitude. She did not have the energy for it, and knowing that Sirius had always taken kindly to his cousin—for some reason—she felt it would be in bad taste to be rude to the woman. "Did he hurt you?"
"Not today, dear," Narcissa said with a light tone and a roll of her eyes. "Are you following him or something?"
"No. I'm here because Sirius was almost killed tonight," Mia replied, her tone hard and cold.
Narcissa gaped, eyes briefly softening. "He . . . They . . ." She inhaled sharply. "Is he . . . I mean to say, he lived?"
"Barely."
Mia glanced around the room, catching sight of the phials left on the table beside the bed: Pain Relief Potion, Blood Replenishing Potion, and Calming Draught. "If you mix rose thorns with red clover it creates a fairly helpful fertility potion. Though, you should wait to be fully healed before you use it. It works best if brewed in the autumn and drunk under a full moon."
Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "How did you . . . ?"
Mia indicated the phials. "Your potions. Plus, you look fairly pale, more so than usual. Also, Lucius Malfoy seems like the type of arsehole who would leave his wife alone at a time like this."
Narcissa's bottom lip quivered, betraying her cold façade. "He's just upset because he wants a child, and I am incapable of holding onto one."
"He wants an heir," Mia corrected her. "You'll give him one: a son. I promise. He'll be spoiled rotten." She rolled her eyes as the image of a young Draco popped into her head. "For the love of Merlin, Narcissa . . . do not let Lucius control your son the way he controls you."
"And how exactly is that?" Lucius Malfoy asked, reappearing in the door and glaring down at Mia.
She inhaled sharply, and her eyes widened as she recognised a scent: blood.
Sirius's blood.
White hot rage flooded her. Before she had a chance to think about what she was doing, she reached out and swiped at Lucius's face as though she were in her Animagus form, claws extended. She smacked him good and hard—so much harder than she had ever hit Draco or Snape. One of her fingernails cut into his flesh and actually drew blood. She grinned as she remembered an older Lucius Malfoy carrying around a small scar. It thrilled her to know that she had done permanent—though very mild—damage.
Lucius growled, cupping his face. "You filthy little—"
"Careful there, Malfoy," Mia snarled. "I might be tempted to speak to some Aurors downstairs. See, they're very interested in finding out what happened to Sirius tonight."
She shook with fury, and it only made it worse when he smirked at her.
"Oh? Something happen to the little blood-traitor? Maybe I should go downstairs and speak with the Aurors myself, as I was just assaulted."
She feigned innocence, blinking wide eyes at him. "I doubt they'll arrest me. See, I was under the Imperius Curse at the time. I have no memory of what happened."
"As though they would believe you?"
"You're right. Perhaps the Aurors should investigate. Are you familiar with the Imperius Curse, Malfoy?" she asked knowingly, not blind to the way that Narcissa visibly stiffened.
July 30th, 1976
Sirius was brought back to Potter Manor after a week at St Mungo's where Healers had closely monitored his progress. Eventually, Mia relented and left his side, but only under the condition that a Potter be with him at all times; the family had taken rotating shifts. When he was finally allowed to come home with them, Dorea had already converted his original guest room into a full bedroom, complete with Gryffindor banners, a closet full of new robes, and pictures of his friends on the walls.
Still recovering, Sirius was forced to stay in bed most of the time by an irate little house-elf, who now politely called him "Young Master Sirius" and tucked him into bed each night.
Mia fought tooth and nail with Tilly over helping nurse him back to full health. The house-elf finally relented, allowing Mia to bring him his meals and to visit, so long as Tilly was still allowed to clean his room and cook.
Remus and Peter eventually came over to see him, and Mia had to force herself to leave the room to allow the boys time together. Sirius and the boys talked about Quidditch, played Exploding Snap, and planned pranks for the upcoming year, but never once did Sirius open up about what had happened to him.
However, he did have nightmares.
"I'll take care of it," Mia said one evening when she and James both woke up to the sound of Sirius moaning in his sleep. It was the fourth time that week, and she knew Sirius had been refusing to take the Dreamless Sleep Draught that St Mungo's sent home with them.
James sighed irritably. "Force it down his throat if you have to," he said and then turned around, walking back to his room while muttering, "Stubborn mutt," under his breath.
She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Not wanting to wake her parents or rouse Tilly, she put up a strong Silencing Charm around the room before she made her way to Sirius's bed, frowning as he tossed and turned, covered in sweat with an angry look on his face. She approached slowly, moving his wand out of his reach to forestall any accidental hexing if she woke him too quickly. He would hate to hurt her.
"Sirius?" she whispered as she sat down on the edge of his bed, reaching out and gently stroking the side of his face. "Sirius, wake up."
His breathing quickened at her touch, and he bolted upright, grey eyes wide and dangerous. She was reminded of the man she met in the Shrieking Shack: he looked broken and wild and threatening. She inhaled sharply at the sight of his crazed stare, cursing herself for how she felt her face flush at the sight.
"Sirius?"
He growled, low and quiet, and she thought for a moment that he might still be lost in the nightmare and try to strike out at her.
She gasped when he reached out and grabbed her arms, pulling her forward. She barely had a chance to half-mutter his name before he crashed his lips against hers in a raging, bruising kiss.
