Sirius Black Speaks After the Death of Bellatrix Black Lestrange
By Rita Skeeter and Ellen Russell
A Daily Prophet Exclusive Interview
Sirius Black is at once everything you would expect, and nothing you would expect.
Raised in the lap of luxury as a member of the influential and infamous Black family, his star fell as fast as it rose when he was wrongfully imprisoned for a mass murder within days of the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He celebrated his twenty-second birthday in Azkaban and there was no expectation that he would ever be released.
He strides confidently into the Daily Prophet office looking proper fit for a man who spent twelve years of his life in the dementors' thrall. His abundant dark hair, which he has allowed to grow past his shoulders, shows no sign of greying. While he appeared almost frail in his wanted posters, his chest is now broad and muscular. His robes are new and fashion-forward.], yet still classic. Beyond the standard markers of great good looks, Black possesses something extra, something indefinable, that makes him entirely mesmerizing.
Black is accompanied by his cousin Andromeda Black Tonks, who often functions as his de facto press secretary. Black has kept a low profile since his belated trial nearly two years ago. Tonks has often told the Prophet that Black prefers to direct all of his attention to his godson, who is none other than the famously reclusive Boy Who Lived: Harry Potter. Readers may recall that last July, Black threw a fifteenth birthday party for his godson at the very ancestral home which recently became the scene of a grizzly duel.
The presence of Tonks on this occasion is, then, a bit of a surprise to your correspondents, coming as it does in the aftermath of the death of her sister Bellatrix Black Lestrange at Black's hand.
"It's not a conflict for me at all," Tonks says when asked whether her sister's death has put a strain on her close relationship with her cousin. "I have not spoken to Bellatrix Lestrange for more than twenty years. While I mourn the woman that she could have become, and the relationship that we might have had, I understand as well as anyone that she was in Azkaban because she belonged in Azkaban. My daughter is an Auror, and the last time my daughter passed through Azkaban in the line of duty, my sister threatened to kill her. I don't doubt that Bellatrix would have been capable of it. I don't doubt that she would have killed Sirius had he not defended himself. I mourn her, perhaps, but more than that I am relieved that my family and other innocent people are safe."
Perhaps your correspondents ought not have been surprised, after all. Black inherited more than cheekbones that could cut glass from his famous family. Rumor has long had it that the Blacks have been forming internal alliances and killing one another for generations. Was this latest death, then, perhaps a mere matter of destiny?
"No," responds Black quickly when the question is put to him. "This could have been prevented by proper management of Azkaban."
Big words from the man who is said to have argued vehemently behind closed doors in favor of removing the dementors from Azkaban.
"I did want the dementors removed from Azkaban," Black snaps. His grey, penetrating eyes flash beneath his stark, expressive eyebrows. "Torture is not an appropriate or effective deterrent. Torture is not something a civilized society should condone. And dementors are not to be trusted with any sort of responsibility. That said, I certainly did not want the prisoners to be left entirely unguarded because the Ministry made the decision to confine an unmedicated werewolf for no reason."
Did we forget to mention that the recently disgraced Hogwarts professor and werewolf Remus Lupin is a childhood chum of Black's?
Black's full lips contort into an expression of disgust, revealing two rows of perfectly aligned teeth. "I slept in a bed not two feet away from Remus Lupin for seven years at school," Black says. "I think I'm in a position to tell you that he's harmless when he's given the tools to control his condition. I'd like to see the Ministry leave werewolves alone unless they actually commit a crime and devote those resources to properly monitoring the prisoners who truly belong in Azkaban. And while we're on the topic of Remus, I'd like to point out that my godson and a large number of his classmates were appalled when he was removed as their professor."
[See page 11 for a letter written in support of Remus Lupin and signed by 97 current Hogwarts students. We will be publishing a selection of responses to the students' letter in next Sunday's edition of the Prophet.]
Black is reminded that we are not here to discuss werewolf rights. Tonks quickly renters the conversation to remind your correspondents that Black need not discuss anything at all with them.
Black smiles at that: a smile that hints equally of love and danger. "Thank you, Anna," he says, charmingly addressing his cousin by a childhood nickname. Bellatrix Lestrange, we are informed, was known to her family of origin as Bella.
So, were Black and "Bella" close as children?
"Sometimes," Black admits, making an ambivalent gesture with one strong, well-shaped hand. "When we were younger, I did admire her. Our relationship was never the same after I began school and was Sorted, according to her, into the wrong House."
Black was Sorted into Gryffindor and promptly befriended James Potter and Remus Lupin. Tonks and Lestrange, like the rest of the Black family, were Sorted into Slytherin.
"We graduated into a war and we were on opposite sides," Black continues. "I don't doubt that our wands crossed when she was fighting for [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named] and I was fighting against him."
[We should note that Black did NOT say He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who during his interview. When asked to do so, he simply replied "no" and continued to speak the name that is generally not spoken. Tonks occasionally flinched but made no attempt to curb her cousin's recklessness.]
"When she escaped," Black continues, "I suspected that she might come to our ancestral home to collect herself. As the house is unplottable, it would have been impossible for the Ministry to find her there, so I went there myself just in case. I attempted to stun her; I attempted to place her in a body-bind; I attempted repeatedly to subdue her using non-lethal means. I asked her to turn herself in; I offered to make her comfortable and wait with her. She refused. She had a wand and I knew that she was more than willing to kill me. She had invaded my home. So I defended myself. I did not use lethal force against her lightly or as my first choice. But as everyone knows, I have a godson who is far too alone in the world thanks to [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named] and his followers. I can sacrifice myself for Harry exactly once, and after that he will be entirely on his own. I had to defend myself before Bellatrix decided to seek out Harry, or Auror Tonks, or any other person she happened to view as an affront."
Black shines with love for his godson each time he mentions him. It is clear to these reporters that the Boy Who Lived made a wise decision when he publicly requested a new trial for his godfather two years ago. All the mistakes of Black's youth are made right in the way he conducts himself as an adult.
Bellatrix Lestrange, alas, chose not to follow in her cousin's footsteps.
Sirius dropped the newspaper to his lap as Harry approached and sat beside him in the shadow of the Whomping Willow. It was an unseasonably warm late winter day, and while other students were enjoying the castle's grounds, none but Harry seemed inclined to approach the violent tree.
"Snape read that article about you in class," said Harry without preamble. "He kept saying it was no wonder I broke Neville's wand since I was probably remembering the last time I gazed into your penetrating eyes."
"Ridiculous. It's my stark, expressive eyebrows that can really distract a person."
Harry didn't laugh. "If Bellatrix had gotten to Voldemort, she would have brought him back. Maybe he would have made 100 more Horcruxes. We wouldn't have been able to do anything about it."
Sirius didn't know whether to be proud or sad that Harry had reached that conclusion. "That's true."
"You should have let me die when you first told me what I am."
"It's not what you are," said Sirius sharply. He was well-practiced at this sort of argument; one had to be, if one had spent his entire adolescence in the company of Remus Lupin. "You're Harry Potter, fifteen-year-old wizard, Quidditch star, and all-around brilliant human being. The Horcrux is just a thing that's attached to you. Like some sort of boil we have to lance."
"We need to lance it now. Before something else happens. Bellatrix can't be the only one. I bet Lucius Malfoy—"
"Lucius Malfoy doesn't have the gumption to do anything without checking which way the wind is blowing."
"Then someone else."
Sirius sighed. "You're right, Harry. You and I will both say that to Dumbledore when we talk to him today."
"Good." Harry started to stand, but Sirius took him by the arm and pulled him back down.
"Are you absolutely positive that you're ready?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any other questions?"
Harry was silent for a long moment, but Sirius knew better than to take that as a "no." Harry had spent most of his life being told not to ask questions and being lied to when he did ask. It sometimes took him a moment to work out what he wanted to say. Sirius was more than willing to wait.
"Were the things you said to the Daily Prophet true?" Harry asked at last.
"Mostly. I simplified a few things, of course. I couldn't very well explain how I knew that Bellatrix would have been happy to kill me and that I had to approach that duel as if my life depended upon it."
Something in Harry sagged almost imperceptibly. "Part of me was always afraid that you'd die because of me the way you did in Lupin's memories."
"Part of me was afraid of that, too," Sirius admitted. "But it wasn't the same situation as all. Bella had only been out of Azkaban for about twelve hours when she attacked me. She wasn't in practice. I was. I've been preparing for this for over a year and I wasn't going to underestimate her the way I might have once. She was magnificently magical and incredibly powerful, but Remus put his thumb on the scale, hard, in my favor."
"What you said about only being able to sacrifice yourself for me once… I don't want you to sacrifice yourself for me at all."
"I agree." Sirius tried to keep his tone light. "I'd prefer to stay around and meet your wife and children and grandchildren."
"What will you do if I'm the one who dies? If I'm the one who sacrifices myself for everyone else?"
"I can't answer that, Harry. I don't know." Harry looked unsatisfied. "Is there an answer you'd like me to give you?"
Harry shrugged. "What spell did you use to kill her?"
"Avada Kedavra."
"That's an Unforgivable Curse. They aren't going to send you back to Azkaban?"
"No. They didn't look very hard at what killed her. She was a dangerous Azkaban escapee who came into my home uninvited and fought with me. All of that was abundantly clear, and that was all the Ministry really wanted to know."
"Doesn't using that curse rip your soul? Like Voldemort?"
"Well, I certainly didn't make a Horcrux after I'd killed her!" Sirius snapped, even though that wasn't what Harry had been implying. "I don't know whether it damaged my soul, and I don't think I care. If I could have stunned her and disarmed her and trussed her up for the Ministry, I would have. I missed my first few chances and I didn't want to take any more when I knew she wouldn't hesitate to kill me and turn you over to Voldemort. If I suffer because that decision ripped my soul, I'll accept it. The satisfaction of knowing I've done everything I can for you in the face of the completely unfair hand you've been dealt is all I need for the rest of eternity."
"Do you think it hurt her to die?"
Sirius froze at the shy innocence of the question. Remus had told him that, in the memories he hadn't been able to share, Harry had asked whether it hurt to die and Sirius had promised that it was easier than falling asleep.
"You don't have to answer," said Harry quickly.
"I want to answer. I didn't expect the question. I thought perhaps you'd ask me what it felt like to kill, the way you asked Tonks last year."
"That was when I'd almost killed Cedric by accident. That was when I reckoned— I reckoned that maybe you were all preparing me to kill Voldemort, not to be killed by him."
"We think you'll survive," he reminded Harry brusquely, as if that made the plan any less heinous. "And if we're successful, Voldemort will be vanquished forever because of you."
Vanquished. It was such a nice word. He tried it on in his mind. He hadn't killed Bellatrix, he had vanquished her.
It didn't make a difference. It was cheating with semantics.
"Tonks told you that killing Karkaroff made her feel helpless," Sirius recalled. "But that wasn't how I felt. I was angry at Bella for putting me in that position. I was sad at her wasted potential. It made me sorry for the years I missed and sorry that I wasn't able to speak to Regulus before he died all over again. But it was, as I said, also satisfying." A sudden image of a glowing ball of light rose unbidden in his mind's eye, a ball of light like the one Félicité had used. Félicité had always asked him to break the elements of his worst memories down to their tiniest details. He supposed that now he did it naturally.
He remembered the dust of the dead house-elves beneath his feet and Bellatrix's lifeless body on the floor beside the chicken sandwiches he had vanished instead of eating.
"But to answer the question you asked me, Harry, no, I don't think she suffered when she died. There are curses that will kill you slowly and painfully, but Avada Kedavra is too fast. Bellatrix didn't have time to feel pain. Avada Kedavra usually leaves an expression of surprise on the victim's face even if he or she knew it was coming." He swallowed hard as he thought of James and Lily. He didn't need to tell Harry where he'd gotten his first-hand information; he could see that Harry knew.
"Okay," said Harry. He stood up again, and this time Sirius didn't stop him. "Let's talk to Dumbledore."
Dumbledore ushered Harry and Sirius into his office with a polite wave. "Before we begin our scheduled meeting, Sirius, I must inform you as Harry's godfather that several professors have brought it to my attention that Harry's marks have been slipping. They are most concerned. Harry's academic work improved greatly when you entered his life and has become progressively stronger even as the assignments have grown progressively more difficult. It was difficult for them not to notice a sudden regression just before the OWLs."
"I can't say I'm surprised," said Sirius. "As I know Harry has been skipping Quidditch practice too."
"Not skipping," Harry injected. "If I skipped, Voldemort wouldn't be able to kill me because Angelina would do it first."
"But you've been spending less time on the pitch than your teammates."
"I'm a Seeker. It doesn't matter if I'm there." Both Sirius and Dumbledore let the silence stretch as they observed Harry. "Fine," said Harry at last. "I might be dead before the Quidditch final and before the OWLs. And since I can't even fight Voldemort— I just have to submit to him— that makes revising twice as useless."
"And if you aren't dead a month from now?" Sirius asked. "Won't you wish that you practiced and studied? Don't you have ambitions of becoming an Auror, which would require you to qualify for almost all of the NEWT-level classes?"
Harry didn't answer.
"Harry," said Dumbledore gravely. "I truly believe that you will live if we do this correctly. I would never have bothered you about your marks, and certainly not in front of your godfather, if I believed otherwise."
Harry shrugged.
"Do you want me to take you out of school until we're ready for the… confrontation? We can go everywhere you've ever dreamed of, Harry. Would you like to see Paris? Japan? The North Pole?" Sirius found himself wishing that Harry would say yes.
"No," said Harry. "I want to stay here with Ron and Hermione."
Sirius had expected that. "In that case, I know that it's unfair and difficult, but try not to give up on your classes."
"I haven't given up. I've hardly skived off at all." Harry sat up a little straighter, suggesting to both Sirius and Dumbledore that the matter was no longer open for discussion. "So where's Voldemort? Or whatever's left of him?"
"I've been observing him in Albania for some time," said Dumbledore. "He has received a visit from a friend of mine almost every night. This friend has convinced Voldemort of his loyalty—"
"Not Snape!" Sirius objected. Snape had been responsible for orphaning Harry in the first place. Sirius wasn't about to hand him the last Potter because he had told Dumbledore that he was sorry.
"Who would you prefer?" Dumbledore's frustration was palpable and almost frightening. "Lucius Malfoy, perhaps? Peter Pettigrew? There are very few individuals who have any chance of gaining Voldemort's trust. Severus performs the job admirably, and he will be joining us in a moment to make his report."
"I don't like it," said Sirius.
"You don't have to," said Dumbledore. "But unless you can offer me a superior agent, you will behave in a civil manner toward Severus."
"The way he behaves civilly toward his students? I understand that he read a Daily Prophet article about me to his students today."
"I read that article as well," said Dumbledore. "I was most interested to learn that— come in, Severus."
Sirius hadn't heard a knock; Snape must have used Legilimency to announce his arrival. Snape's lip curled with distaste as he looked at Sirius and Harry, but he turned his attention to Dumbledore. "He is nearly strong enough for me to brew him the potion that will return him to his body."
"And he continues to believe that you are his loyal servant?"
"He hasn't a choice. His other options are in Azkaban or dead. He is quite pleased that I never deserted my post here— he always wished to use me as a spy inside Hogwarts, as you know— and that I can give him sixteen years' worth of information on you."
"He isn't angry that you didn't help him steal the Philosopher's Stone?" asked Harry.
Snape glowered, but, to Sirius' shock, he answered. "No, Potter, he isn't angry that I did not help him steal the Philosopher's Stone. He did not reveal himself to me at the time. I informed him that I saw nothing but a greedy and unworthy wizard in Quirrell attempting to steal the stone and I did all I could to thwart him."
"You see," said Dumbledore quietly to Harry, "Voldemort's unwillingness to trust anyone is a weakness we can counter by working together."
Harry nodded. Sirius, who knew that Dumbledore's lecture in miniature was directed at him rather than at Harry, politely refrained from snorting.
Dumbledore returned his attention to Snape. "Have you promised Voldemort that you will bring Harry to him so that Harry's blood can be used to make the potion as strong as possible?"
"I have."
"Then you shall tell us the nearest date that you can bring Harry to Voldemort so as to restore his body."
"Easter, perhaps," said Snape. "The Dark Lord will appreciate the symbolism." Sirius squirmed inwardly. Easter had been his first suggestion, too. He didn't like to agree with Snape about anything, not even something so mundane as a date. "But Headmaster, as you know, the instant that the Dark Lord returns to his body, he is likely to cast the killing curse on the Boy Who Lived."
"Exactly," said Dumbledore.
Sirius almost laughed. He and Harry might not have known that Dumbledore planned to use Snape to resurrect Voldemort, but Snape clearly had not known that Dumbledore planned to permit Harry to submit to Avada Kedavra. Dumbledore had kept secrets from all of them.
Snape, though, was not laughing.
Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"On the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill Harry, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the killing curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort's soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsing building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die."
"So the boy…" Snape looked again at Harry, but he seemed to look through him. "The boy must die?"
"And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential."
"I thought… all these years… that we were protecting him for her. For Lily. But you have kept him alive all these years so that he can die at the right moment? I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily's son safe. Now you tell me that you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter—"
"What do you care?" Harry interrupted. "Do you want me to live just so you can keep trying to humiliate me in class by reading articles about Sirius?"
"I thought that the students might need to be up to date on whether your godfather's cheekbones can cut glass," said Snape. "And this has nothing to do with you."
Harry laughed. "I'm the one who's about to stand in front of the killing curse, so I think it does have something to do with me. I know that you and my mum were friends—"
Snape whirled on Sirius, his eyes full of hatred. "You told him?"
"I wasn't planning to, but I saw an opportunity to force Petunia to behave herself and I took it."
"Leaving him with Petunia in the first place was a terrible decision if you wanted him to grow up to be willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good," said Snape.
"I actually agree with that," admitted Sirius, almost physically uncomfortable with the sensation. He didn't know what was worse: agreeing with Snape, or defending the decision to hand Harry to Voldemort while Snape raged against it.
"And you?" Snape asked. "You, for all of your protestations of love for James Potter's son, are willing to watch him die?"
"James believed that there were things worth dying for, and so do I, and so does Harry."
"Because you've spent two years brainwashing him!"
"No one brainwashed me!"
"Silence!" Dumbledore raised his wand, and Sirius wasn't certain exactly what sort of jinx the headmaster managed to cast on all three of them simultaneously, but it achieved its intended effect. His lips pressed themselves together, unwilling to let him make another sound.
"Severus, what I was unable to tell you because none of the three of you chose to hear me or each other out, is that I believe that when Lord Voldemort casts the killing curse on Harry, he will permanently destroy only the piece of his own soul rather than Harry himself. Harry will revive. Sirius and Harry have independent reason to believe the same. If Voldemort is permitted to curse Harry, Voldemort will become mortal and your debt will have been paid. You need no longer, as you say, feel any obligation to spy for me or lie for me. You will be welcome to continue on at Hogwarts if you choose the life of a professor, but the choice will be yours— not mine, and certainly not Lord Voldemort's. If we succeed on Easter, we all all be free. You from your promise to protect Lily's son, Sirius from his agreement not to assert formal guardianship over Harry, and most of all Harry himself from the burden of carrying a piece of Voldemort with him. Now, can the uneasy truce between the three of you last long enough to achieve these ends?"
They all consented silently.
To be continued.
Auxiliary Disclaimer: The conversation beginning with "on the night" and ending with "pig for slaughter" is rather obviously borrowed from Deathly Hallows.
Author's Note: I hope that you and the people you love are safe and healthy. As always: feel free not to review. Feel free to tell me what you enjoyed if you are so inclined. Don't feel free to be a jerk.
Recommendation:
A Familiar's Work is Never Done by Triscribe. It is story number 13574190 on this site.
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Um, as one of the authors of one of the time travel fix-it fics that litter this dang site, I can't really argue with that summary. The fic is a rather wholesome if cracky 9000 words.