The game was over with an abrupt Gryffindor defeat and we were on the ground again, running to our injured seeker. He lay in a mess of ginger hair and a broken broom beside him, his arm beneath him was a right mess. It jutted out awkwardly from its rightful socket and in many places bone protested against skin so that it almost poked through. I felt my stomach lurch and looked immediately away, thanking the lord that he was out cold so I wouldn't have to deal with his screams as well.
Alice landed next to me and threw her bat down on the ground, running to the boy with much healthier legs than Madam Pomfrey, getting there first. She grimaced and took hold of his arm and shoulder, and with a massive exertion of force slammed his shoulder back into place. It locked with a crick.
Next, she set about setting his arm, tenderly feeling for the bone underneath and righting the bone into a straight line so that it was no longer visible through his pale skin. Most of the players looked away as she did this, wincing at each crunch, but even the Slytherins looked impressed.
"James," she said suddenly, and I looked back at her to find her holding the arm together, her hand covered in blood from a long gash left by a protruding bone which had now found its rightful place. I gagged but nodded. "Pass me my bat and your shirt."
"My what?" I asked incredulously, almost afraid to open my mouth lest I throw up all over her.
"Your shirt, Potter, quickly!" I nodded, taking it off and throwing it to her along with the bat. I looked around me to find that nobody else had offered to relinquish their shirts, and realised that I was the only one she knew, the only one who knew well enough to trust her. Madam Pomfrey had joined the group now and leaned on Rick's other side, lifting his head to check for damage.
Alice in the meantime had ripped my shirt to shreds and was using the long strips to attach his arm to her bat on one side, a long part of the broken neck of his broom on the other to form a makeshift splint. Finding nothing externally, Madam Pomfrey took the rest and placed it under his head. She gestured to the stunned Slytherin beaters, who nodded and lifted him onto the stretcher they hadn't noticed had appeared, taking him to the hospital wing.
As they hoisted the thing up there was a groan from the stretcher.
"What happened?" Rick asked disorientated.
"You were knocked from your broom, we're getting you to the hospital wing now but you have to hold still or Madam Pomfrey can't fix your arm right," she said in an even voice, "don't worry, if you stay still it should only take a spell."
"Did we win?" he asked, disheartened.
"Let's just focus on you getting better," Alice answered with a sad, forced smile as they disappeared off the pitch, heading to the castle. When I turned back the pitch was chaos. The Slytherins had all gone to congratulate their star seeker on his performance, whereas the Gryffindors were storming on to protest the violence. At their forefront was Sirius, eyes boring holes into his little brother.
When the Gryffindor crowd descended on the Slytherins, Regulus was thrown rather unceremoniously down onto the ground and landed right in front of his brother, who immediately pushed him to the ground. I was close enough to hear their conversation.
"What are you doing, Reg?" asked Sirius through gritted teeth. Regulus threw himself back to his feet and shoved Sirius right back. Though Sirius was tall they stood at equal height.
"Just winning a Quidditch match, Sirius, if you'll kindly get out of my way," he said haughtily, though his voice was laced with a threatening tone. Sirius didn't budge, neither did Regulus, and they stood facing each other for quite some time before Sirius spoke again, after casting a glance around.
"I thought we weren't gonna do any of this, not in Hogwarts," he growled. Regulus' eyes darkened.
"Any of what, Siri?" he teased, but again the threat resurfaced. "Hurting your little friends? Oh that's right, you promised to take the brunt of it for them didn't you?" Sirius looked around again to check if anyone had noticed, and locked eyes momentarily with me. I shot a questioning look at him quickly but he ignored it, turning back to glare at his brother like he never saw me. "I guess you shouldn't trust a Death Eater to keep his promises next time," Regulus said.
"You're not a Death Eater." Sirius protested with heartbreaking conviction, all he wanted was for his brother to not be like the rest of his family, and yet before his eyes he was morphing into one of them.
"Not yet, but I will be," he said with an ironic chuckle, and at his words with no warning Sirius suddenly had his wand out and Regulus was hurtling across the pitch, landing stunned in a heap a few meters away. Whatever other racket was being made stopped instantaneously as everybody turned to the one bearing the wand.
"BOY!" a yell ripped through the pitch as through the waning crowd marched the formidable Orion Black, a dark expression on his face as he made his way to his least-favorite son. Sirius shrank in his shadow. This was no boggart, he could not laugh it back into a wardrobe. "Expelliarmus." The spell was said so coldly hearts froze right in their bodies as Sirius' wand clattered to the ground. The remaining students scattered, Peter and Remus were nowhere to be seen. The only people left were me, Regulus, Sirius and Orion. I backed up so that I was less noticeable and sat in the stands, unwilling to leave my friend completely to the mercy of his father and brother, even if we were in the middle of some stupid fight.
"Now explain to me, boy," his father began, projecting for an imaginary audience, "why you attacked your brother?" he gestured to Regulus who was staggering to his feet, wiping dirt off his Quidditch kit. Sirius mumbled something I couldn't hear from where I sat, something Orion wouldn't stand for. Such scenes of his had to be performed with a measure of bravado, and his voice took on a theatricality. He didn't like it when his insolent son wouldn't play along. To express this, he struck him in the stomach, sending Sirius to his knees, winded. I made to stand but crouched again, he didn't need me yet.
"What was that again?" Orion asked, putting a hyperbolic hand to his ear, "I couldn't hear you." Sirius stood in answer.
"You promised," he spat, "the both of you did. You'd leave the violence out of Hogwarts," Sirius came from a thick voice, and were followed by an onslaught of coughing. "If I..." he continued, but fell back to his knees coughing again. I saw red on his fist as he drew it away, but I would not come to his rescue, not yet. I needed to hear what they had to say first.
"Oh yes, our agreement," Orion chortled to his son, who laughed half-heartedly with him. "No hurting your little frendy-wendys as long as Regulus here could use you as target practice instead. But I must say, Sirius, some of them are asking for it. A buffoon, a werewolf and a troublemaker, all people undeserving of magic in the eyes of the Dark Lord, wouldn't you say?" Regulus eagerly nodded his agreement, but Sirius only glowered at him.
"They are three of the best people I know," Sirius shot back defiantly, "and you will not hurt them, or anybody else in this school."
"Oh of course not," Orion laughed again, a laugh which chilled every bone in my body. I shivered at the baritone. "Nobody else, only you." With that, he raised his wand and before I knew it I was standing.
"Stupefy!" I yelled, sending Regulus down to the ground for a second time.
"Serpensortia Multus!" Orion shot back, releasing a rain of snakes onto both me and his son. A dozen immediately attacked Sirius, who was reaching for his wand, desperately hissing bits of Parseltongue he had heard from sketchy relatives, to no avail.
I cast a Freezing net quickly, as Bella had done with the bludgers, then ran to Sirius to survey the damage. There were a few scratches but no bites. I thanked my stars before turning back to Orion whilst Sirius grabbed his wand and battled with his legs to stand.
"Potter," he said, looking oddly pleased to see me. He extended a hand, "We were just talking about you." I didn't take it, so he withdrew it and the cold air returned to his manner. He looked at me with darkened eyes. "Did nobody teach you to treat your elders with respect?" he spat, raising his wand, which immediately flew from his hand into that of someone behind me.
"That's quite enough terrorizing the children, Orion. The match is over, I think Walburga will be wanting you back." Dumbledore suddenly stood by my side, his wizened, kind face disintegrating the fear I felt for Orion's, the very opposite.
"I'm not done here, Albus."
"Oh, but I think you are. Sirius here has to take care of that bite on his wrist he's been covering up to look brave, don't you, Sirius?" he asked, and Sirius nodded, sighing and taking his hand off his wrist. The bite was on the side of his arm and swelling by the second, turning an angry purple.
"You will not tell my son what to do," Orion protested. "Sirius, you will stay here and continue our discussion-"
"I'm afraid," Dumbledore interrupted, "that I really must insist he get that seen to. Sirius is on my grounds, he must do as I say." With that he waved Sirius off and he stood gratefully, clutching his wrist again and racing to the hospital wing to join Rick and probably the rest of the Quidditch team.
Orion scowled as his son disobeyed him, scampering off, and stepped angrily forward to Dumbledore, shooting daggers at him. Dumbledore stood his ground with the same kind, placid look on his face.
"He's mine," Orion said. "the moment he steps off the grounds of this school, he is mine again. And I can do whatever I want to him." Dumbledore, though allowing Orion the dignity of the last word, still seemed to have won this particular battle. The words were words of defeat as Orion stalked off to go home.
"You have a brave friend," Dumbledore said to the air where Orion had stood, the statement meant for me, "to live with a man like that and take it without complaint. But he is a boy nonetheless." I nodded, understanding, and watched as Dumbledore made his way back to the castle until it was only me and Regulus left.
"What do you want, Potter?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.
"I watched them hurt you." I told him simply. "You know what pain feels like. Why do you want to do it to him?" Conflict fleeted across Regulus' expression for a moment before he shook it away and regained that cool, blank one he wore when he watched his brother tortured.
"Pain makes us stronger."
"Pain breaks people."
"That's a matter of opinion," he argued, but I could still see somewhere in some darkened corners of him that still small voice, crying against the cold creature he was turning into, crying for his brother. I shook my head and turned away to leave him alone on the Quidditch pitch, heading to the Hospital wing to reconcile my argument over loyalty with the most secretly loyal man I had ever met.
A/N: Told you the fight wouldn't last long. I love writing about the Blacks, they're so messed up it's wonderful. I mean, I hate every last one of them (except for the rebels of course) but they're interesting to write. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, more'll be coming your way! Do review, won't you?
