BLACK SHADOW
Part 2: Road Test

His leg was on fire, but his mind was a million miles away. Sirius was never certain how he got home after that first wild ride on the Shadow. At some point he found himself at the front door. Had he been standing there long? His watch told him barely forty minutes had passed since he first mounted the beast. The fiery throbbing in his left leg gave a more painful reminder of what happened after that.

The house was locked, which meant that his father was either sleeping or out. He got out his wand with great effort; pain beat against his consciousness like waves pounding a shipwreck. It took several tries to undo the spell and he swore loudly throughout--better than crying, after all. At last, he released the spell and staggered into the house, closing the door roughly behind him.

His mind cleared and the pain receded slightly as he stood in the comfortable sitting room, leaning on a high-backed chair for support. Looking around, he felt oddly out of place. The objects in the room were all familiar: the lampshade with the drawing of a butterfly from three-year old Sirius, the sofa where he'd gotten his first kiss from Cousin Cassie, the ghastly flowered curtains made by his grandmother. Perhaps it was him. Perhaps he wasn't the same person who'd left the house a few hours before. Gingerly, he ran his fingers over the bandage that Davy had insisted upon, crudely wrapped around his leg and over his tattered trousers. Red blotches of blood blossomed through the white gauze, trailing down his thigh like raindrops splattered on a sidewalk. The Shadow had certainly left her mark on him. Would he ever be the same again?

You'll be a good deal better off after you treat that wound, he told himself. Get yourself upstairs. With a grim shake of the head, Sirius forced himself to move, hobbling toward the staircase. On the way, he glanced into the kitchen but saw no sign of his father except for the wealth of papers spread out on the kitchen table. He pulled himself up the stairs, gripping the banister for support, and made his way as quietly as he could down the hall to his parents' bedroom. It was empty. He was alone.

This discovery let loose a howl of pent-up pain that forced him back against the wall. He closed his eyes and tried to stop shaking. After a moment he was able to stagger to the bathroom, one hand on the wall for support. He clung to the door frame briefly and then lurched to the sink, leaning heavily on it to keep from falling. His hoarse, ragged breathing filled the small room. The white stillness of the bathroom--tile floor, porcelain sink and toilet, claw-footed bathtub--put him in mind of an infirmary. A breeze from the open window rippled the white gauzy curtains, so pure and untouched, unlike the soiled and ragged gauze around his leg.

Getting home and up the stairs had taken all his strength. Now he bowed his head over the sink and willed himself to go on. He managed to raise his head and was startled by the sight of his face in the mirror, deathly pale and smudged with dirt, and his coal-black hair, normally fairly neat, was tangled and spiky. He looked like a textbook picture of a vampire, perhaps worse since vampires were usually obsessively neat about their appearance.

With great care, he laid his wand on the sink. Miraculously, it had been unharmed in the crash, tucked against his back as he slid across the road and protected by his jacket. Now he noticed that the left sleeve--once silky smooth black leather--was nearly shredded. The jacket as a whole looked as if it had been plunged into a muddy ditch, which it had been, of course. He loved this jacket, having gotten it last summer at the Golden Zipper, a shop in Diagon Alley specializing in vintage Muggle clothing. At least it had not given up without a fight and had saved his arm from the same fate as his leg; for that he was grateful. Slowly, since he ached just about everywhere, he stripped off the jacket and shirt. Ugly black bruises blossomed on his left shoulder. Trousers next, he thought with a sigh, then realized that he'd have to get his boots off somehow first.

Carefully he lowered himself to the floor, keeping his injured leg as straight as he could. Even so, the pain caused him to cry out more than once. He managed to get his right boot off, but any movement of his left leg drove spikes of pain up through his spine. How was he going to manage this? Lying back on his elbows, he hooked his left boot under the clawed foot of the bathtub. He tugged, feeling ridiculous. Here he was, lying on the bathroom floor looking like a corpse trying to get its boot off. What would he say if his father appeared in the doorway now? The thought was so funny that he couldn't stop himself from laughing, even when the boot finally did come off. The sudden jerk caused his head to knock against the base of the toilet, which sobered him slightly. Maybe he shouldn't be laughing. It was probably a sign of shock. After a moment, he recovered enough to raise himself by tightly clenching the rim of the bathtub and then, balanced uncertainly on the toilet.

Now, he just had to get at the wound and fix it. I should be able to heal this, he thought. After all, we studied this in Charms class last year. The theory, at least. They hadn't actually practiced on living creatures but he felt confident he could master the art, although he never dreamed he'd be the first subject.

As he began to unwrap the bandage, he winced at the sight of the mottled red abrasion, growing longer with each turn of the gauze. He let the bloody bandage fall to the floor. The angry wound, about an inch wide and eighteen inches long, glared at him like lava oozing through a rent in the earth. The sight left him feeling faint, so he grimly focused only on the task of stripping off his trousers and then cleaning it, picking out the bits of thread and gravel. Unfortunately, he hadn't learnt any way to do this by magic.

At last, he was ready. He reached for his wand, hoping he would be able to apply all that theory from class before he passed out. He pointed the wand with only a slight tremor and spoke the words of the spell through clenched teeth. When it was done, he let the wand fall to the floor with a clatter. He closed his eyes and grabbed the edge of the bathtub for support. Waves of something--non-pain, perhaps--rippled down his leg, as when silence begins to win out over an ear-splitting noise that persists in echo and then vanishes.

He had done it! He sat for many minutes, relishing the newly won freedom from pain. Cautiously he felt the side of his leg. Mostly done it, he concluded as his fingers traced the long, sinuous line of a scar. Opening his eyes, he saw the faint line, not angry-looking any more but part of him forever, the Shadow's mark.

He stood and grinned at himself in the mirror while running water into the sink. I should have paid more attention in class, he mused. He washed his face and made an attempt to tame his wild hair. Anything more would have to wait because he began to realize how hungry he felt. At least he didn't look like a vampire any more, a tremendous improvement.

Sirius left the bathroom in considerably less pain than when he entered, although without the leg wound to pull at his consciousness, he now felt as if every muscle in his body were aching and bruised. After he dressed in his room, he was very tempted to lie down--sleep called to him seductively--but he knew he should see whether his father had come back and find something to eat.

Late afternoon sunlight poked into the kitchen, splashing the table and counters with buttery squares of light. Sirius assembled an enormous tongue and tomato sandwich while snacking on pickled pumpkin rind. He filled a bowl with some of his mother's self-cooking soup. Before she went to his Aunt's house, she made gallons of it, which had seemed excessive, although now he was glad. Because he was too tired to stand while eating, he decided to clear the papers from the table. As he stood munching his pumpkin pickle and trying to decide how to rearrange all the stacks of paper, his attention wandered to an unfinished report sitting in the center of the mess. His father must have been working on it before he left on whatever errand had taken him out of the house. His bold and precise script was recognizable. Something caught Sirius' eye, a familiar name. What was it doing in his father's report to the Ministry?

"Numerous members of the Malfoy family have been observed entering and leaving Longstoke Farm," read the report, "which was rented under the name of Sanders, according to information received from a London estate agent. Since attacks on Muggle-born wizards have increased locally in the past two weeks, the activities at Longstoke Farm may be connected with other, similar incidents throughout the county that have been attributed to partisans of Lord Voldemort. Continued surveillance of Longstoke Farm is therefore recommended."

He crossed his arms and leaned one hip against the counter, supper momentarily forgotten. He thought he knew who Elise's grandparents were now. That cousin of hers had looked vaguely familiar, too. Sirius remembered a Malfoy who had been up at school when he first got to Hogwarts. Lucius, maybe. He wasn't sure because there was usually some Malfoy at Hogwarts, but always in Slytherin house. Sirius tried to stay clear of Slytherins. That was why he hadn't connected Elise with the Malfoys, he realized, because she was in Ravenclaw. Even so, she was probably trouble and he didn't need that kind of trouble.

Hunger won out, forcing him out of his reverie. He straightened up and remembered his supper waiting on the counter. With his wand, he coaxed the plate and bowl to float into the sitting room and hover near the sofa. There he stretched out, knowing his mother would not approve, and attacked his soup and sandwich. His mind kept returning to the afternoon's events, feeling again the bone-jarring excitement of riding the Shadow, replaying the spill onto the pavement. How could he have avoided it? How could he have controlled her? Thinking of that pothole reminded him of surging over it for the first time and of the intoxicating feeling of flying. With the right enchantment, the Shadow might really fly. Now that would be cool. Could he do it? Sirius had messed about with charming smaller Muggle objects, but nothing so complicated as a motorcycle. Sleep crept over him, pushing away even thoughts of the Shadow. He would think about it another time, when he wasn't so tired. He lay on the sofa, supper eaten and the empty plate resting on his chest. As he drifted off, he saw the image of Davy's face lighting up at the thought of a ride on the Black Shadow.

Voices woke him. From the kitchen, he heard his father talking with someone. Fuzzily he looked at his watch. He had dozed for only ten or fifteen minutes, but felt the bewildering disorientation of being woken suddenly from a deep sleep. Slowly, the sense of the words being spoken burrowed into his brain.

"The evidence is all here," his father was saying with a note of irritation in his voice. "I was going to submit my report tomorrow, but that may be too late." Sirius heard the sound of papers shuffling. "Here. Look at these photographs."

"Quite right," said the other man. "Severian Malfoy and his son Lucius. We haven't heard much from this crowd over the summer. I suppose it's possible they've been lying low out here."

"Of course they have," responded his father sharply. "What's more, I've documented a pattern of activity connected with the attacks at Newmarket and Peterborough."

"Look, Aeneas," the other man sighed, "your job is curse-breaking. Aren't you going out on a limb with all this spying?"

Sirius, fully awake now, shifted slightly so he could hear better. The plate which had been on his chest bounced onto the rug with a dull thud. He winced, hoping they hadn't noticed from the kitchen. He was becoming very interested in this conversation and knew he probably wasn't supposed to be listening.

"My job!" His father exploded with frustration. Sirius could feel his rage, even hidden on the sofa. "My job is cleaning up messes and I can't say that I enjoy it! Were you there at Peterborough? One person dead and five people with curses so bad we had to send them to London. We still haven't found Harlan Eckbreth. I'm not sure we ever will, not in any recognizable form, that is. I'm trying to prevent this from happening again. That's why I'm asking for help from the Aurors."

"Hmmm," replied the other. "And you think another attack is in the works?"

"I've laid it all out," his father replied and there came the sound of more papers being shuffled. "Take a look at this."

Silence fell as the other man read whatever Sirius' father had given him. Sirius tried to make sense of it all, tried to imagine the horrors his father must face. How could wizards do this to one another? He knew lots of Muggle-born wizards. They weren't any different. Davy, for example, was a decent enough fellow. Sirius shifted uncomfortably. Thinking about Davy reminded him of something... something connected with this business. Elise, he thought with a start. Davy had met her in the village this afternoon. And what else? What had Davy said about her? Sirius paid little attention to his babble at the time. He had thought that Elise must be bored to bother with Davy. Was there more to it? He felt foolish suddenly for thinking such sinister thoughts. Anyway, he had tried to warn Davy about her, hadn't he? He couldn't exactly remember what he said; the eagerness for that motorcycle ride had blurred his memory. Voices from the kitchen interrupted, crashing through his muddled thoughts.

"Some of us have suspected the Malfoys," the other man began cautiously, "but nothing has ever been proven and they have, er, the ear of some powerful people in the Ministry. What you've got here is ... persuasive." Sirius could imagine his father tensely waiting, wound up like a coiled spring, in the silence which followed.

"I could," the man continued, "take this to the head of department. He might listen. I'll send an owl tomorrow."

"No!" answered Sirius' father harshly. "Can't we talk to him tonight? Florian, lives are at risk if we delay."

"Very well, Aeneas," the man sighed heavily. "If you're wrong about this, though, I'm going to look like a fool."

"You won't regret this," came the excited reply, the voice drawing nearer. "I'll just get my cloak and we can be off." As his father breezed past the back of the sofa on his way to the coat hooks, Sirius sat up suddenly.

"Dad," he whispered urgently.

"Sirius!" His father stopped short, regarding him with surprise.

"Something wrong?" the other called from the kitchen. Sirius could now see a short, powerfully built man who looked vaguely familiar.

"No, Florian," his father replied, keeping his voice calm but glaring furiously at his son. "It's just my son. He's been sleeping." He emphasized that last word heavily.

"I just woke up," Sirius called. Pitching his voice lower, he spoke only for his father's ears. "Dad, I need to ask you something."

"Not now, Sirius," whispered his father roughly. "I'm in a bit of a hurry. Surely it can wait."

"I read your report." That got his father's attention. "Someone from my school, who lives in the village, he's ... Muggle-born and I want to know if--if he's in any danger."

"What's his name?" asked his father. Sirius told him and his father nodded thoughtfully, then replied, "There aren't many wizard families in the village. He should be safe for now, although I don't recommend that you tell anyone he's from a Muggle family." Shaking his head with a sigh, he turned to go. "I'll be happiest when you're both back at Hogwarts."

"Dad," Sirius said haltingly. "One more thing?" He received a dark scowl in reply but continued quickly, "A girl I know from school, her name's Elise de Mornay, she's staying our there, at Longstoke Farm. I saw her in the village this week and--"

"Sirius, I don't have time for your problems with girls," his father interrupted. "Stay away from this girl and from Longstoke Farm." With a swirl of his cloak, he strode back to the kitchen. He exchanged a few quick words with the other man and both vanished, leaving Sirius alone on the sofa, his mind filled with a cacophony of confused thoughts. He cradled his head in his hands, elbows pressed painfully into his knees. Of course he shouldn't go around broadcasting the fact that Davy was Muggle-born. But he had. He told Elise. How could he have been so stupid? She'd made it clear that she didn't care for Muggles or for Muggle-born wizards.

Sirius stood and paced restlessly from the sitting room to the kitchen, coming back to the question of why she had bothered to talk with Davy today. A possible answer to this riddle occurred to him. Now, in the empty and silent house, the answer seemed once again too fantastic. First thing tomorrow, he resolved, I'll go over there. Still he paced uncomfortably, realizing that he wouldn't rest until he had seen Davy, and given him a proper warning. He found his hand on the knob of the back door. He might as well use the fastest way to get to Davy's house. Although it would involve breaking more rules than usual, it would be more fun. He hurried out the door, rapidly performing the locking spell while his mind raced ahead.

Once outside in the long, late afternoon shadows, Sirius stopped and cleared his mind enough to perform a much more difficult enchantment, made harder by the dull, throbbing aches spilling from every muscle. He closed his eyes, reached out with his mind in precisely the right way, and vanished.

There, in the small yard, stood an enormous dog, black coat glistening in the dappled light and large eyes darting about. As Padfoot, his senses were always subtly altered, hearing and smell expanded somehow. He knew, for example, that the neighbors had recently killed a chicken and that two dogs and a cat had passed through the yard. In fact, the same cat peeked out from under a bush, eyes widening in surprise. Padfoot growled at the sight of the cat, who hissed at him in return. No time for chasing cats, he told himself as he bounded over a hedge, leaving behind a very surprised cat.

Cutting through the fields south of the village and then looping around was the shortest route back to Hollerith's. Padfoot could also run faster over open ground than Sirius could manage with two legs. And so he ran. For a time, the feeling of raw power surging through his legs drove all other thoughts from his mind. He bounded across hay fields, jumped ditches, and leaped over hedges, slowing only as he approached the outskirts of the village.

He became more cautious as he entered the lane leading to the garage. He hadn't actually considered what to do when he arrived in the form of a large black dog. Previous experience taught him that neither Muggles nor wizards reacted favorably to Padfoot, although for different reasons. Certainly no one must connect Sirius with this particular beast. The best course, he decided, would be to take a pass behind the garage first, see if Davy were there, and then find a private spot to transform.

There was no one behind the garage nor was Davy's Triumph anywhere to be seen. He stopped abruptly, casting about frantically for the little silver motorcycle. The larger Black Shadow glared at the intruder in her territory and he, without thinking, growled in return. His keen ears heard footsteps approaching. He transformed swiftly just as Mick stumped around the corner of the garage looking puzzled and angry.

"What the devil--" he began gruffly, then noticed Sirius. "Lad, you gave me a start! Did you see a bloody great dog run by?"

"Just got here," Sirius gasped, still a bit winded from running.

"We was just sittin' down to supper when I saw this black monster of a dog come runnin' down the lane and 'round the garage." Mick eyed Sirius suspiciously. "Dunno why but I had a feeling the bloody beast was up to no good." He paused, frowning at a recollection, then continued, "Guess it put me in mind of somethin' Alfie told me about once, called the Grim, it was."

"Oh, no," replied Sirius quickly. "Probably just a stray. We have lots of strays around here."

Mick grunted, not convinced. "An' what in the hell are you doin' back here, lad?" he growled. "I'd ha' thought you'd be wanting a bit of time to recover from that tumble you took today."

"I came to--I need to speak to Davy. Is he around?"

"Late for supper is what he is and his mother's none too pleased," Mick answered as he limped closer to the boy, peering at the evident confusion blossoming on his face. "Somethin' wrong, is there?"

"Where is he?" Sirius demanded, afraid that he already knew the answer.

"Went off with some girl to give her a ride home," came the reply. "Pretty girl, from that school of your'n."

The news he'd been dreading hit Sirius like a blow. He staggered back, holding his hands to his forehead for a moment, then running them roughly through his hair.

"How long?" he asked, looking into Mick's dark, unreadable eyes.

"Ten, maybe fifteen, minutes ago." Mick watched Sirius shiver slightly and then begin pacing. "Bloody hell, lad! Will you tell me what's the matter?"

Sirius shook his head at first, then stopped and faced Mick directly, clenching the back of one of the metal garden chairs. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, his knuckles whitening.

"I hope that I'm wrong.... I can't really explain how I know, but I think Davy may be in danger."

"What? From a girl like that?"

How could he explain? That last statement of his sounded crazy, even to himself. He paced more intently, running over all the scattered facts in his mind, making absolutely sure they fit. After a minute of indecision, he said, "Wizards have... gangs, too. And there's a gang, you could call it, that doesn't like people like Davy, wizards from Muggle families. Not pure enough blood, they think. It's rubbish!" Sirius cried in frustration, shoving the chair against the nearby table with a clang and resuming his pacing. "This gang, they want to make an example of Muggle-born wizards to... to--"

"Show how strong they are?" finished Mick with an edge of anger to his voice.

"Yes, that's right," breathed Sirius gratefully. "Just now, when I went home, I found out that the girl you saw, Elise, her family is part of this gang. She wouldn't even give Davy the time of day when we both met her last week. Now I--" He shook his head at the fantastic suggestion he was about to make. "If Davy takes her home... I'm not sure it's a good idea for her family to meet him."

Mick swore softly. Peering deeply into Sirius' eyes, he asked, "Yer sure about this?"

Sirius nodded, an icy heaviness seizing him as if he'd been plunged into arctic waters. He had not been entirely sure when he arrived, but somehow in explaining it, he convinced himself of the real danger.

"I have to go after him," Sirius resolved, making ready to leave, although not knowing what he would do exactly.

"You'll take the Black Shadow," Mick stated flatly. Moving swifter than Sirius thought possible, he scooped up a helmet lying on the ground near the motorcycle and tossed it to the boy. He hobbled over to his makeshift workbench and rummaged, producing a second helmet which he put on his own head.

"I can still hold my own in a fight, lad," he said grimly, "An' you might be needing someone to watch yer back."

~~~~

The Shadow bounced down High Street through the village center, tamer than she had been earlier. Double the normal weight of the rider and it would certainly dampen the suspension, but Sirius wondered if she sensed his concern and urgency. Mick hung off the back; his cast stuck out at an odd angle, making balance even trickier than before.

"Where you headed?" Mick shouted as they tilted precariously, circling the town common.

"Newmarket Road," Sirius yelled hoarsely over his shoulder. In truth, he had no plan. He didn't think he would get a very warm reception if he rode up to Longstoke Farm and said, "Excuse me, but are you hiding any Mudbloods here?" He still clung to a shred of hope that they would meet Davy coming toward them on the little Triumph. They pulled onto Newmarket Road and left the village behind. Long shadows fell across the road as they passed lines of trees, crowding near the edge of the pavement. His hope grew fainter with each mile they covered.

Some five miles out of the village, houses were fewer. Horse pastures and hay fields, some already mowed and stacked with bales, made up the landscape, hedges or trees marking the borders. The road began to curve and Sirius remembered that there was a little forest up ahead with ruins of some historical significance, Roman or Norman; he couldn't quite recall which in his distracted state of mind. As they came around a sharper curve, a thick stand of trees appeared on his right, a remnant of the time before hay fields. Sunlight flashed from something metallic in a ditch on that side of the road. Mick saw it, too. He put a hand heavily on Sirius' shoulder and pointed.

With a rough jolt, he stopped the Shadow. Her brakes were much trickier with two people on board and they skidded slightly before coming to rest. Impatiently, Sirius waited while Mick awkwardly dismounted and then fairly leaped off the motorcycle himself. After he coaxed the Shadow to a safe spot at the side of the road, he joined Mick standing before what was obviously Davy's Triumph.

"Doesn't look like there was any accident," Sirius said as he took off his helmet. Mick grunted a reply.

A flash of something green--the wrong color for nature, too--caught Sirius' eye. He looked up, peering through the trees. There it came again, muted through the woods, but nevertheless familiar to him from more than one wizarding duel with Slytherins.

"Something's going on," he began as he tossed down his helmet and took out his wand, " And there's magic involved. I'm going to have a look."

As he jumped across the ditch and slipped between the trees, Mick called, "If yer not out in five minutes, lad, I'm comin' in after you."

A path led from the road to a clearing about fifty yards into the woods, Sirius remembered, but he wanted to avoid detection for as long as possible. He tried to remain silent as he wove between tree trunks and wished desperately for James' Invisibility Cloak. The clearing came into view, as did the figure of Elise, back turned toward him, her white hair and bright clothing standing out amid the green and brown of the surroundings. What about Davy? Then, when he was almost to the edge of the clearing, he saw a body sprawled on the ground at Elise's feet. The adventure lurched further into nightmare territory.

Sirius hoped she hadn't heard him as he circled her, staying just inside the trees, so he could get a better look at Davy. She stood with her wand in hand, looking down at the motionless body. Alive or dead, Sirius could not tell. A loud snap, an obvious misstep, caused him to jump. Elise turned her head in his direction, so there was nothing for it but to step out of the trees, his heart pounding as loud as that branch he'd stepped on. She saw him and gasped once, a handful of emotions playing across her face: fear, hatred, relief, and some he couldn't grasp. Fear and relief seemed to win out as she addressed him.

"Sirius! What are you--I'm so glad to see you!" She sobbed and began to shiver, her eyes riveted on his face. "It was awful! I've never been so--"

"What happened?" Sirius kept his voice level as he stepped into the clearing. She rushed toward him, but he moved away from her, trying to get closer to Davy's inert body.

"He attacked me, that's what!" She halted and cried, a mixture of fear and indignation in her voice. "I asked him for a ride home because my cousin didn't show up to get me. After we got this far, he stopped. Said he wanted to show me something, but once we got here..." She put one hand over her face as tears flowed down her cheeks, her body wracked with sobs. But she didn't let go of her wand in the other hand, Sirius noticed.

"Is he okay?" Sirius moved closer to Davy, noticing a green tinge to his skin. The boy's eyes were half-closed and his jaw hung open slackly. He looked neither dead nor alive. Was he breathing? Sirius' mind raced through the catalog of spells he knew which could produce this effect.

"Please, Sirius," she pleaded in tearful gasps, "take me away from here!"

"What did you do to him?" Sirius asked, anger creeping into his voice as he inched closer to Davy. He stared hard at the body for a moment and detected a faint movement of the chest, a glimmer of hope that he wasn't too late. Elise continued to back away from him. They stood about six feet apart from one another with Davy's body in the middle. He looked up to see a quick movement as she raised her wand.

"Expelliarmis!" shouted Sirius and her wand flew from her hand. He reached up and plucked it out of the air. At first, she looked surprised, then enraged.

"Why don't you believe me?" she cried with an attempt to force a pleading tone back into her voice.

"I think I'd like to hear Davy's side of the story first."

"But, Sirius, he's just a--a Muggle-born," Elise pleaded with more conviction this time. "You and I are purebloods. There are some things that--"

"Save it for someone else," Sirius interrupted curtly. He felt angry and foolish at having been taken in by her tears and obvious lies.

"Mudlover!" she spat angrily. Her face, an ever-changing canvas of emotions, brimmed with hatred and disgust. "That's what we call people like you, people who help those filthy little--"

"That's enough!" he raged back at her. Then, trying to find a place of some calm, he said, "I know about your family, Elise. But why? Why Davy? He's no threat to anyone. He means nothing to you. You didn't even recognize him, until I pointed it out to you." She wrapped her arms around her chest and rocked on her heels slightly, regarding him more coldly than before, all tears banished.

"My family!" She laughed cynically. "You don't know about my family. Not the half of it."

"I know you're related to the Malfoys."

"I am a Malfoy, whatever my last name might be. Didn't get into Slytherin, though. Oooh, that made them furious. I thought my cousin Lucius was going to kill me right on the spot when the Sorting Hat put me in Ravenclaw. But after he graduated, no one at school remembered I was a Malfoy. Just sweet little Elise from Ravenclaw. It was actually quite useful. I convinced them that it could help their cause, and they stopped being so angry with me."

"What do you mean useful?" Sirius was confused and horrified by her sudden change of personality.

"Sweet little Elise can find out lots of interesting things," she crooned. "Boys love to talk to me, you know. It's so easy when all they want to do is kiss me. Ha! Sometimes I make them beg. Then they tell me all sorts of things about their families, about who they're loyal to, for instance. My uncle--even Lucius is afraid of him--has been very pleased with some of the stuff I've turned up and I've been rewarded for it, too."

At that moment, Davy moaned and his eyes opened wider, although he remained insensible. Sirius made the mistake of looking down at him for an instant. With a wild scream, Elise dived at him, raking his face with her fingernails and taking both wands. Stunned, Sirius tried to grab her, but she squirmed away from him, scrambling over Davy. She stood facing him once again with Davy's limp body between them, this time with a wand pointed at his chest. She casually tossed his wand over her shoulder. He didn't even hear it land.

"Now, mudlover," she gloated triumphantly, "I've got to finish this and get home before I'm in worse trouble. I guess I'll start with you."

Something about the look on her face convinced Sirius that this was no idle threat. He took a wild stab, just to keep her talking while he thought furiously about a way out.

"Why did you leave school before the end of term, then, if you're so useful?" he taunted.

"I didn't leave, I was expelled," she said bitterly. "There's a certain amount of sneaking around involved in all this. I got caught one too many times and with something that I--I shouldn't have had. Oh, I was punished at home for it, let me tell you. Sent out here for the summer with Lucius as my watchdog."

Sirius thought suddenly that he could have seen her at school on the Marauder's Map, if he'd ever cared to look her up. He could have found out whom she was sneaking around with.

"Dreadfully boring out here. The family's so busy with all their little Mudblood schemes," she continued. "I wanted to have a go at you, after I saw you in the village, to find out all about what your father in the Ministry was doing. That would have been so, so easy, but Lucius thought it was too dangerous. He got very angry with me for even talking to you. I was punished for that as well."

"And your family? They sent you after Davy?" Sirius could scarcely believe he had come to this point, able to ask such a question in a rational manner. An hour ago he would have thought all this was a sick fantasy.

"Hardly," she snorted. "I'm still being punished for flirting with you. But today everyone was busy with some new plot and hardly noticed me. I had to get out of that dreadful house! When I saw your little Mudblood friend in the village, I hatched my own little plot. I might get back in their good graces at home, you see, if I could deliver this to them." She kicked Davy with the toe of her boot so that he groaned and rolled over. Then she slowly stepped backward, still eyeing Sirius warily.

Sirius thought he heard voices out on the road. Mick's voice, perhaps, and others. He talked louder, hoping she wouldn't hear.

"You think you can kill us?"

"Of course, I can. I've learned quite a lot from Cousin Lucius, more than he realizes."

The sound of a motorcycle engine starting came through the trees. Elise paused. She had heard it, too. The trouble was, Sirius didn't know what it meant.

"But I'm not going to kill you, Sirius. Oh, no. I'd get in too much trouble." She laughed cruelly. "Only the Mudblood. I'll just knock you out with a Sleep Spell and then use a Memory Charm on you. You won't remember a thing. Maybe I'll even let you kiss me one day."

Sirius began to shake, uncontrollably. If she did what she promised, Davy would be dead and he would never know that he could have prevented it, never know that he was responsible for that death. Being alive and not knowing was somehow much worse than death. The thought galvanized him to action.

As she leveled her wand at him, he did the only thing he could think of. He crouched down and, as she backed up in surprise, he performed the Animagus charm. Padfoot gave a fierce growl and leaped at her. She still had time to curse him, but the spell did not strike him full on. He howled, blinded and numb, and fell to the ground beside Davy. As he struggled to rise, he noticed two things in rapid succession: he had hands, which meant that her curse had somehow knocked him back to human, and the sound of the motorcycle was getting louder. She didn't seem to notice, so intent was she on preparing a spell aimed at Davy.

As she raised her wand to begin, the Shadow burst into the clearing with Mick astride it, aiming directly at them. Sirius marshaled all his strength and threw himself in front of Davy. Everybody seemed to be yelling at once as a supernova of green light exploded inside and outside his head, and he remembered no more.

End of Part 2

Revised 5 March 2004: More endless tinkering to improve the product...

~ CLS