CHAPTER 4
YOU'RE IN EVERYONE'S WAY
An unlikely thing though it was, circumstances tonight seemed to be aligning just right. Severus and the Death Eaters stormed the lodge, entered the grand dining hall and a few moments later, spotted Sirius Black. And Black, who was supposed to act unprepared for the attack, was doing just that, shockingly. And shockingly well. So well, that, when he emerged from behind a counter, at the far end of the room, he did so being utterly ununarmed.
Wandless and dishevelled, Balck stumbled along the wall, under a scintillating shower of sparks that drizzled down from the attacks exploding above his head. He leapt forward, snatched his wand from a wooden counter, conjured his magical shield, breathless — barely in time — blocked an purple jet of light shot for his heart.
It took some nerve to welcome four attackers without even a wand in hand, Severus had to admit. But then again, the line between recklessness and courage had always been thin, the one feeding into the other, making thoughtless people apprear braver than was due. Severus found he also had to remind himself of that.
Bellatrix attacked, cruelly frenzied, but Black parried, and his magic was infaliable. Severus followed with a curse, sharp and swift; it breached Black's protective magic and let it shatter in the shrill sound of broken glass.
Black recovered quickly and retaliated, summoned a massive table to float in the air before him, blocking one of Yaxley's blasting curses. The curse slammed against the table, and the wooden furniture fell to the ground with a thud. Quick to evade another attack, Black dodged behind it.
Curses fought to smash the toppled table to pieces, but the thing didn't budge, imbued undoubtedly with Black's protective magic.
Through the scurry of spells and the maze of tables, chairs, everything else crowding the space, Severus advanced to his left and caught a glimpse of the source of light close to Black. Behind the Death Eater mask, he smiled.
At the far end of the room, in the right corner, flames burned bright and golden in a rugged fireplace — Black's route of escape through the Floo network. It was partially hidden from the attackers' sight by a large wooden bookshelf, standing close to it, on the right side of the room. It was brilliant.
Nothing was short of perfection tonight
The fire burning, the bookshelf protecting it, the clutter slowing their advancing on Black, hampering coordinated attacks. It must have been Dumbledore's doing. It was too good to be luck and too bright to be Black's tactic.
A purple flash blinded his sight, and Severus parried on instinct, the air before him rippling like a wave of heat as his shield materialised.
Severus retaliated with a blasting curse, but Balck fended off. He followed with a smashing hex; Black still held his ground. Severus attacked fiercer each time, Black parried all and shot back.
Black was good, but Severus was better. It might have had something to do with them being four against one… but then again, Severus couldn't remember Black ever minding the undue vantage. He hexed again.
It turned out, this would be a lovely night, after all. For now, at least. Another curse and Black dived behind his makeshift barricade.
There was a commotion to Severus' right, and he saw Goyle trodding forward, a green blob of light pumping up at the tip of his wand. The clod would blast the place to ashes with that spell.
"CRUCIO!" Bellatrix cried from behind, her voice feral, and Goyle, with the grunt of a wounded boar, crumpled to a heap, the green lump on his wand fading out, as he gurgled for breath on the damp floor.
"You slob!" Bellatrix yelled. "You got IN – MY – WAY!"
"You're in everyone's way, Goyle. Keep your head down!" shouted Yaxley from the back of the room. He shot a jet of magic that grazed Goyle's hair before missing Black. "In EVERYONE'S way!"
He was.
In the packed place, they could hardly find corridors to attack. And Goyle, a hunk of meat with no brain to support self-preservation, had found the perfect spot to obstruct Bellatrix and Yaxley from lashing out freely.
Truly, the night could not have started better.
Severus attacked again, white magic sizzled electrically, smashing against Black's shield. Black retaliated, hateful and unrestrained, and Severus parried, one after another, quicker each time. Searing magic exploded against Severus's shield, again and again, sending incandescent sparks spraying through the air.
Really, Black, is that all you've got?
He retaliated.
A silver bolt dashed from the back of the room, and Black dove to the ground barely in time. He was on his feet again, a moment later, and threw a curse, an invisible force that slammed Goyle square in the face and sent him flying four feet through the air to land flat on his back.
That had been a stupid move. A very stupid move.
Granted, Goyle had made himself an easy target at the centre of the room.
Severus attacked and missed. Black dodged. Bellatrix hexed, again and again, her magic seared and scorched, fierce as hell. Somewhere on the filthy floor, Goyle lay out cold or counting stars.
"STUPEFY!" Yaxley shouted, and before his attack formed, Black had the countering spell at the tips of his fingers.
"Larvaenum Invenia."
From Black's wand, green dust swirled out to a nebulous mass, engulfing the blue stunning magic, which shrunk to a sphere of light and froze in place.
The sphere flickered, like a lightbulb before it burns its last light, then erupted in a flurry of tiny, burring dots — butterflies.
Grey, brown, hectically droning butterflies — hundreds and thousands of them, multiplying with each second that lapsed, saturating the air in the frantic batting of their dusty wings.
Severus, unable to see anything through the russling flood of insects, raised an arm up to shield his face.
"What the blazing hell?" Yaxley's voice rose over the incessant burr. "What is this pest? How did—" he coughed and retched, probably having choked on a butterfly, or a few.
Inept as he was, Black had executed the spell impeccably. The diversion was flawless. The butterflies were everywhere, thick as a wool cover, and, for a moment, Severus nearly regretted their encounter having to end so succinctly. He couldn't say it hadn't been engaging.
A surge of light flashed through the room, followed by another one, glowing orange. "Get away!" Bellatrix yelled as she cast fire from her wand, bout after bout, to purge the air around her from the tiny insects.
It was impossible, through the frantic droning of butterflies, to make sense of anything other than the fiery glow spurting from Bellatrix's direction. Black and his fireplace were seamlessly covered.
Indeed, the diversion was perfect. Too perfect to be true? All Black had to do was cast the Floo powder in the fireplace and begone. Only he didn't.
Of course he didn't.
Coming from Black's end of the room, a ray of magic soared bright red through the crowded air. Bellatrix shrieked with pain and shock, and a thud shook the room as Black's attack struck her to the ground.
A second flash followed, this time silver and cold, and there were no more screams from Bellatrix, only a shrill whimper. A wounded deer would not have cried as heart-breakingly.
Her flaming magic had marked her spot, and Black had seized the moment to strike her down. Through the butterfly furor, she couldn't see from where the next blow would come, but she could be certain it would.
In a voice unlike hers, she croaked the spell to conjure her shield, "Protego!" The room boomed with the fury of the attack that hit her defence.
"Protego!" again she cried, the word a quaking inhale of terror, a flash of a second before the air roared under the force of one more attack.
A current was seething through the frenzied thrum of butterfly wings, a harsh draught, growing stronger and stronger, swirling together in the centre of the room to a vortex of wind.
The tornading wind swirled with unyielding force, and the fragile butterflies batted their wings futilely as they were sucked in and crushed by the current. Along with them, books and pans and pots and everything that wasn't heavy enough to withstand the magnetic pull were sucked into the torrent.
Severus crouched by the wall behind a cupboard, clutching his wand, feeling suddenly ridiculously nervy at the thought that the wind might snatch the wand from his hand.
Rather quickly, the air began to clear. Severus saw Bellatrix getting back on her feet. Across her left cheek, a long gash bled unsightly down her neck. She seemed otherwise unscathed.
Further behind, in the doorway, Yaxley was standing with his wand trained on the whirlwind, his contrivance to rid the place of the butterfly invasion.
The current was decreasing, the last few butterflies disappearing in the now sluggish swirl of air, which finally faded to nothing, leaving behind a room emptied of insects and filled with pans, pots, chipped ceramic, and what else scattered everywhere on the floor under a thick layer of dust.
Severus still had his wand with him.
The noisy hectic having dissolved, the silence stretched now deafening and the air spread unmoving. Before the Death Eaters, the room stood clear: of butterflies, of clutter — of the presence of Sirius Black.
Severus stared, astounded, at the empty room before him. The perfect outcome of his plan. At any rate, it could have been worse.
He let out a breath he had forgotten to release.
And then everything went to hell.
"Accio container!" A hoarse whisper broke the air, and Severus felt his stomach clench.
Black was still there.