BLACK SHADOW
Part 3: The Sum of the Parts

Sirius could see before he could hear. For several days, he watched the silent comings and goings of the hospital staff. At least he presumed he was in hospital. He lay in a white cocoon: white sheets, white curtains drawn around his bed. The silence reminded him of the utter stillness in a wood after a heavy snowfall in which the thick snow sucks up any and all sounds.

Nurses and Healers, all wearing the particular mint green color of their profession, came and did things. He liked best the small bird-like witch who brought his food. She was not much older than him and acted grave and businesslike when other staff were around, but sometimes when they were alone, she smiled and then she was very pretty. Sirius found he could make her smile if he tried hard enough. He made silly faces when she fed him--he still could not speak--and dropped his silverware seven, eight, nine times in a row just to see if she would keep picking it up. She smiled her sly smile each time she picked it up. But, the next meal she made him eat with his fingers. He enjoyed that, too.

An older woman with unruly gray hair, never completely tame, must have been the Healer assigned to him. She took his pulse and brought strange instruments that she placed on his head or chest, consulting them with intense concentration. A few times he glimpsed her just outside the white curtains talking with his father. He saw the pain and concern in his father's dark eyes and wondered how badly he'd been injured.

On perhaps the third day--he couldn't be sure of time--his hearing came back in fits and starts. One minute he was deaf and the next, his sheets roared at him when he made the slightest movement. He realized that he must be in a city because sometimes, when his hearing cooperated, he could hear distant traffic noises. Was it London, where his father said they sent wizards who'd suffered very bad curses? His voice came back, too, a creaking splutter at first, but soon he was able to talk reasonably well, particularly with his favorite nurse whose name (as he found out) was Charlotte. As his hearing returned, he discovered that Davy was in the bed next to him, although he had not yet regained consciousness. A bad curse seemed to linger on him and many wizards discussed Davy's condition in hushed voices that Sirius couldn't always make out.

All the while, Sirius thought about how he'd managed to end up in hospital. His memory returned with his hearing, bits of it flying into his head like puzzle pieces tossed about in a tornado. By the third or fourth day, he could replay most of that terrible scene with Elise in his mind, but the end still remained a painful mystery, a searing flash of green that made his head hurt whenever he tried to think about it.

On the fourth day, Davy began to come around. There was a flurry of activity in the morning, nurses fussing over him, but by afternoon things had quieted down. At lunch, Sirius asked Charlotte if he could have his curtains open to relieve the boredom of staring at nothing but the endless, suffocating whiteness. She scurried away to check with someone and returned to fling open the doors of his prison. Of course, he was still a prisoner. He soon discovered that the room had two more beds in addition to his and Davy's, both empty, and a guard at the door. At least he could look through the open door and glimpse a few other colors besides white and mint green.

After lunch, when no one was about, Sirius tried getting out of bed. He felt shaky but his legs could hold his weight, progress indeed. Davy's bed, with the hated white curtains drawn around it, was next to his. When he heard stirring sounds inside, his curiosity drove him to take a few steps and to peek inside the curtains. Davy tossed restlessly, not noticing him at first. He looked pale, washed out, like a shirt hung out in the bright sun for too long. I probably don't look much better, Sirius thought. Davy noticed his visitor and his face twitched with a puzzled expression.

"S-s-sirius," he stammered. Davy seemed to have a bad stutter as a residual of the curse. "What are you d-d-doing here?" He shook his head in frustration as the words stuck on his tongue.

"Ready for a change of scenery?" Sirius grinned at him. "I got sick of these blasted curtains days ago. There's not much to see outside, but it's not all white."

Davy only nodded solemnly. Sirius opened the curtains most of the way and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Ta-da," he chuckled. "How are you feeling? I just got my hearing back yesterday. It was pretty weird for a while there. If I'm deaf, I thought, at least I won't be able to hear Professor Binns' boring lectures any more. That was something."

Davy smiled, then his face turned grave again. "Wh-where are we?"

"A hospital in London, I think. We've been here for at least four days that I remember. I can't get anyone to tell me anything for sure. When I've tried asking, they all clam up and say that I need to recover first. My father's been here some, but I haven't seen him since yesterday. You've been out for most of it. How do you feel?"

"C-c-can't t-t-talk well..." Davy shrugged and seemed confused.

"You'll get over it," Sirius replied, trying to sound cheerful. "I couldn't talk until yesterday and look at me now. " He grinned and Davy managed a weak imitation. The smile faded quickly, though, as Davy looked down into his lap, nervously twisting the edge of his bed sheet.

"How- Why are you- D-d-did I -" Davy gave Sirius a furtive look of terror that showed he remembered something, but he ducked his head swiftly, wringing the sheet into long, ropy lengths. Sirius sighed inwardly, not eager to continue. Perhaps the less that Davy remembered, the better off he would be.

"How much do you remember?" Sirius asked, reluctant and curious at the same time. Davy didn't speak again for many minutes, but his thin body trembled beneath the white hospital gown as if he were reliving parts of it. Finally, he began talking in a low, dull voice. Sirius inched closer on the bed to make out his words.

"After you went home, I was c-c-cleaning up out b-b-back and she showed up. Wanted a ride home. She was really n-n-nice and everything. So we g-g-got on my bike. Along the N-n-newmarket Road, b-b-by the Roman f-f-fort, she said to stop. Her skirt was c-c-caught, she said. Then she ran up the p-p-path. T-t-to see what was there. I f-f-followed her to that p-p-place where the ruins are. We t-t-talked for a while and she asked d-d-did I want to k-k-kiss her."

"Well, of course you would," Sirius snapped, then added dryly, "She has that effect, I've noticed. I even wanted to kiss her once. What an idiot I was!"

Davy seemed somewhat relieved and continued, but his voice became more agitated as he spoke. "I d-d-did. K-k-kiss her, I mean. B-b-but then she screamed at me, accused me of- and I... looked down and... her shirt was t-t-torn and she was yelling. Said that I t-t-tried to- B-b-but I d-d-didn't ...." Davy pleaded with Sirius, looking into his eyes for any reassurance. "I would n-n-never...."

Breaking away suddenly, he grabbed large handfuls of the sheet, pulling it up as if to hide his face. His whole body shook, silently at first and then with great shuddering sobs which seemed too large for his slight build. Sirius found himself shaking, too, although he tried to hide it. What Elise had done to him was bad enough--he couldn't think about their little scene together without becoming angry--but Davy... Davy had been completely unable to protect himself and was nothing to her except a trophy, a dead bird that the cat brings home. And like a cat, she toyed with Davy before moving in for the kill.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Davy!" he cried, his words rushing out in a torrent. "She tricked you! She doesn't care about you. Her family hates Muggle-born wizards. They're in Lord Voldemort's camp. My dad says they've been attacking wizards and...."

"She c-c-called me--" Davy gasped, his wide eyes staring into some terrifying place in memory, his hands finally as still as death. He seemed unable to hear Sirius. "N-n-names. All sorts of things. She said I was-- "

"Stop!" Sirius found himself nearly shouting, wanting to grab Davy and make him stop tormenting himself. "She called me names, too. And she was going to--" But he broke off, unable to tell Davy the fate which had awaited them at Elise's hands. Some things were better left unknown. Sirius found that he was leaning forward, practically ready to leap at Davy, with his fists balled into the sheets. He took a deep breath and forced himself to sit back, to assume a calmness he didn't really feel.

"Anyway, here we are, cursed but alive. Not bad, all things considered." He forced a lighter tone. Davy looked at him curiously, a shipwrecked sailor trying to decide whether to leap from flotsam to a lifeboat.

"How did you get mixed up in this?" Davy asked slowly and carefully.

Sirius frowned, unsure of where to start and how much to tell. "When I got home that day, I found out that Elise was a--a Malfoy." Davy squirmed uncomfortably, perhaps at the sound of her name. "What's more, they've been attacking Muggle-born wizards. At least, that's what my father thinks. Only I don't know if he has enough evidence to prove it. I came back to the garage to find you, to warn you not to talk to her again." Because I told her you were Muggle-born in the first place, he reminded himself. "Mick and I took the Shadow and went looking for you. When we found your bike, I saw a flash of green in the woods. Must have been her cursing you. Then, I found her--you were knocked out--and we... fought, only she managed to curse me." His hand drifted to his cheek, recalling how she scratched his face, but no trace of it remained. He couldn't bring himself to say that he'd been disarmed by a girl. "I don't remember much more."

Davy took all this in with wide eyes. Sirius couldn't tell if he believed him or not. It was a pretty fantastic tale, after all.

"Uncle Mick... was there?" Davy said at last.

"Yeah. He was waiting, out on the road. Just before I--one of the last things I remember is hearing the Black Shadow start up, but I don't know what happened after that." He shook his head, grimacing at the memory. "I've tried asking them here, but they won't tell me anything." Surely Mick was all right, he thought. But, why wouldn't someone tell him then?

"What do you suppose happened to..." Davy asked, gazing into his lap and taking up the twisted bed sheet sculpture once again. He did not have to finish the sentence. Sirius knew who he meant but could only shake his head with frustration and a trace of anger.

"They won't tell me that either. In fact, they get these funny looks if I ask about her. Weird. And I'm not sure I like it."

Thinking of Elise again sent Davy into renewed distress. Uncontrollable tremors returned to torment him and he wrung the edge of the sheet yet again.

"Hey! It's over!" Sirius responded quickly, not raising his voice this time but speaking urgently. "We'll be back at school soon and everything will be-"

"N-n-no!" Davy shouted in anguish, his stutter returning with a vengeance. "I c-c-can't- I d-d-don-t ever want t-t-to...." He put his hands up, cradling his head as if to keep it from coming off entirely.

"Of course you'll be back at school soon." Sirius tried to sound reasonable.

"Easy for you. You're b-b-braver than... and you're not a M-m-mudblood. I hear them saying those things at school, the same things th-th-that she said. I t-t-try not listen... I c-c-can't go b-b-back." Davy would not meet his eyes and Sirius fumed incoherently for a moment.

"But you have to go back," he said finally. "Don't you get it? If you don't go back, then they win! All those Slytherins and her family and the lot. If you don't stand up to them, they'll just figure they can do this to more people." Sirius pounded on the bed with clenched fists. Davy looked up at him momentarily.

"G-g-go away!" he cried. He turned away from Sirius, his voice fading as he spoke, and pulled the sheet over his hunched shoulders with terrified resolve. "J-j-just l-l-leave me alone."

Sirius stared at Davy's back and then down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Well, Sirius. I see you've found your voice." Startled, he turned and saw his father leaning against the door frame, arms folded, a peculiar smile on his lips. How long had he been standing there?

Aeneas Black straightened up and sauntered easily into the room. Sirius noticed that he was freshly shaven and looked as if he had slept, a decided improvement over the last two weeks. He sat down on the corner of Sirius' bed with his back to the door.

"Dad," was all Sirius managed to croak after a moment. Davy turned and stammered a weak greeting.

"Your mother sends her love, Sirius," his father said casually. Only his sharp eyes, assessing both boys' conditions, gave any hint of concern. "How are you boys feeling? Well enough for visitors? There's someone from the Ministry who wants to see you. And I've brought your mother down from the village, Davy." He hesitated, watching Davy brighten up, then continued, "She'll be here in a bit. She's just down the corridor-"

"What is the meaning of this?" came an irritated voice from outside the door. "Your orders are to keep visitors out." The voice belonged to a small man in a mauve suit and bowler hat who finished scolding the guard and bustled into the room, a pin-striped cloak over one arm and a briefcase in the other. "This room is off-limits! Please leave immediately," he clucked importantly.

Sirius saw a momentary look of irritation cross his father's face, but it vanished as he turned to the man and said, "Cornelius, may I not visit my own son?"

"Oh. Oh, yes. Didn't know it was you, Black," replied the man quickly, shutting the door with a precise click. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties with thinning black hair plastered horizontally across his forehead, in anticipation of a balding future.

"Sirius, Davy, this is Mr. Fudge from the Department of Magical Catastrophes. He wants to ask you some questions," he explained evenly, although Sirius detected a hint of displeasure in his voice. Fudge took off his hat and laid it, along with his cloak and briefcase, on Sirius' bed. His brilliant yellow tie put Sirius in mind of a chimpanzee with a banana pressed to its chest.

"Quite right," bustled Fudge as he shuffled papers out of his briefcase. "Terribly shocking business, what? The Ministry wants to get it cleared up as quickly as possible, of course. I'll need a statement from you boys for the report."

Fudge finally located a parchment scroll that he unrolled and began reviewing, making little comments to himself while ignoring the others. "Now, then. Yes. Here it is." He cleared his throat and continued, "On the evening of 26 July an attack on Miss Elise de Mornay took place at the-"

"Hey!" Sirius interrupted. "That's not right! She attacked us! Davy first, then me."

Fudge looked over the edge of the parchment at Sirius and frowned. "Indeed? Hmmmm." He consulted his scroll again. "I understand that you are recovering from a very bad curse, young man. Are you certain that your memory is accurate? We have information concerning the use of magic in the, er, alleged attack. I will remind you that the use of magic by underage wizards is a serious and troubling business...." He let the words hang in the air so that even Sirius in his anger saw how much trouble he could get into.

"I didn't use any spells! My wand got...."

"Cornelius," his father interjected calmly, although with an edge of irritation, "I believe that you also have a report from Florian Dingwell and myself. As first to arrive on the scene, naturally, we looked for whatever evidence we could find. If you'll recall from our report, Davy here did not have a wand and Sirius' wand was found in a tree some twenty feet away. Miss de Mornay was holding her wand when we found her. Is that not some indication of the use of magic on her part?"

"Yeah," Sirius said excitedly, "and Mick saw it, too. When we first got there. He saw the flash from the woods."

"Let me see," Fudge muttered to himself as he went to his briefcase and sifted through papers. Sirius exchanged glances with Davy, who was now twisting his bed sheet into a nearly complete replica of a suspension bridge, and with his father, who had a dark scowl on his face, hidden from Fudge. The little man bustled back to stand between the two beds, wrestling with an untidy stack of papers.

"So many reports and with a Muggle involved, it will double the usual amount of paperwork," he continued, clearly expecting their sympathy. "Yes, yes. We must get this cleared up and establish the facts, particularly what spells were involved. Miss de Mornay was injured in this course of this, er, incident. She continues to suffer serious after-effects, according to her family, and has not recovered her memory."

"How convenient," interjected Sirius sarcastically. His father gave him an exasperated look as if to remind him that this was not being terribly helpful. "Look. It's simple," he continued. "She asked Davy for a ride home from the village, she lured him into the woods, then she cursed him."

"And is this correct, Mr. Hollerith?" Fudge frowned as he advanced toward Davy's bed with his bunch of papers before him like a shield. Davy nervously pulled the sheets about himself and nodded wordlessly. "And you, young Mr. Black, just happened to be in the neighborhood in the company of a Muggle... a Mr. Michael McKutcheon?"

Sirius felt momentarily confused, having forgotten that Mick might have a real name. Angrily he responded, "No. We went looking for Davy because--" He broke off, suddenly realizing that he ought to pick his words carefully. In fact, a few well-chosen lies might be called for. His father regarded him with considerable interest as he fumbled for what to say next.

"Because he was late for supper... and we were worried that his bike might have broken down. It's not that reliable. Right, Davy?" Again, Davy nodded without speaking, his eyes growing even wider still, if that were possible.

"Ahem," Fudge continued, clearing his throat yet again. "That is your story, yes. There does seem to be certain, er, evidence for the use of magic on the part of Miss de Mornay." He gave a furtive acknowledgment to Aeneas. "But, I can see no motivation for Miss de Mornay to attack you two boys, as you claim. And, well, sometimes boys such as yourselves can be perhaps a bit too... rambunctious toward members of the opposite sex. Yes? Was she perhaps defending herself...."

Davy gave a strangled gasp and began shaking, on the verge of tears. Sirius tried to hold himself in check, but he couldn't take it any longer. "That's complete dragon dung! She attacked Davy! She didn't like the fact that he's Muggle-born. Her whole family's like that." He looked to his father for support, but Aeneas shook his head.

"Some of us suspect," he said carefully as Fudge pursed his lips and looked decidedly uncomfortable, "that something might have been about to happen, something having to do with the Malfoys, but with all the alarm bells you set off, we didn't have a chance to check it out. As it was, we arrived there on Newmarket Road just a little too late."

"But she did attack Davy!" Sirius cried in frustration as Fudge made little disbelieving tut-tut noises. "Look. She's not so innocent. She was expelled from Hogwarts last year. Did her family tell you that? Did they tell you why?"

Fudge consulted his papers again, relieved to escape Sirius' fuming glare. "Her uncle did say that she had a, er, nervous condition which necessitated a rest-cure during the spring. Be that as it may," he cleared his throat pointedly, "let us return to determining the facts of this incident."

Voices could be heard just outside the door, growing strident. Fudge spoke over the noise, seeming doubly peeved, "Whenever there are Muggles involved, we must document everything carefully, of course." Two women were shouting something at the guard, Sirius realized. Fudge attempted to continue," And when a Muggle is--"

All of a sudden, complete pandemonium broke out. As the guard cracked open the door and attempted to interrupt politely, a booming voice from outside yelled "He's my son!" causing Fudge to scatter his untidy bundle of papers all over the floor and Davy to sit up excitedly stuttering "M-m-mum!" Then the door opened, teetering like a see-saw, as the guard continued to argue with two women, Davy's mother and the Healer with the wild gray hair. It seemed that the guard had taken his scolding from Fudge to heart and was determined to prevent anyone's entering.

"Here, now," the guard pleaded. "You can't go in just yet."

"Listen, here," barked Mrs. Hollerith, who resembled her brother Mick in size and in voice, "this is a hospital, innit? Well, I never been in a hospital where a mother couldn't visit her own son!"

"There's no reason--" piped up the Healer in a softer voice, soon drowned out. She attempted to lend support to Davy's mother, but no-one was destined to hear it. Fudge abandoned his mess of papers and bustled to the door, attempting to shoo the women out into the hall with his most officious manner.

"Madam," he pronounced crisply, "We are conducting an investigation. If you'll just wait-"

"I don't care what yer doin'," barked Mrs. Hollerith, "I come to see my family! I seen my brother and he's none too well in this funny hospital. Now I want to see my son!"

While Fudge continued to argue, inching backward as Mrs. Hollerith slowly forced the door open, Sirius and Davy exchanged worried glances.

"Dad," Sirius asked urgently as the argument raged, "Is Mick here, too?" His father nodded solemnly. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Sirius," began Aeneas with a pained expression on his face, "I'm sorry. I didn't have time to-"

"He's okay, isn't he? I mean, he's recovering like we are, right?"

Something about the hard look on his father's face, greeting his own crumbling expression of hope, made Sirius fear the worst. The answer, however, was interrupted by the door swinging open and slamming loudly into the wall as Davy's mother made her entrance. She barreled into the room wearing her Sunday-best dress and swinging a large black handbag, an angry mother bear looking for her cub, trailed by Fudge, the Healer, and the guard. Sirius got up as quickly as he could from his seat on Davy's bed at the approach of Mrs. Hollerith.

"He rode his motorcycle into the clearing," his father told him gravely as Fudge spluttered in the background, "right into the path of the curse. He wasn't killed instantly because the motorcycle seems to have absorbed... and even reflected some of it back, although I've never seen anything like it." Sirius sat down slowly on his own bed, not taking his eyes from his father's face while Davy's mother noisily occupied half of the next bed with the Healer looking on nervously.

"The young lady," continued Aeneas in measured tones out of place with the chaos around them, "got some of her own curse back, it seems. The motorcycle is in pretty sad shape, too. Overall, I'd say that some combination of the motorcycle and Davy's uncle saved both your lives."

Sirius sat stunned for a moment, heedless of the other dramas taking place in the room: Mrs. Hollerith crying over Davy and Fudge fussing at the guard to pick up the scattered papers. He stood suddenly, forcing his weak and shaking legs toward the open door. His father did not try to stop him, nor did the others seem to notice.

Once outside, Sirius experienced a moment's confusion at the many identical doors confronting him along the corridor. Then, he noticed the only other door with a guard next to it and headed in that direction.

"What's going on here?" asked the other guard as Sirius approached. He probably had been watching most of the little scene with Davy's mother back there. Sirius did not answer but doggedly made for the door being guarded.

"This room is--" began the guard, but he broke off, looking beyond Sirius. His father had followed and nodded to the guard to let him pass, allowing Sirius to enter alone.

The room, another stark white landscape, had a single chair and one bed which seemed distant yet enormous, dwarfing the man wreathed in its tangled sheets. Mick lay on the bed, a mottled greenish-yellow cast to his face. A remnant of the curse, Sirius guessed. He was beginning to understand the horror that sometimes stole across his father's face in odd, private moments.

"I been waitin' for you to show up, " Mick wheezed with difficulty. "They tol' me you was not put right yet, but I knew you'd come." Mick's eyes tracked the boy's movements as he drew near the bed and sat down, pulling the chair as close as he could.

"Are they treating you okay?" Sirius asked.

"Well, they fixed me leg, lad. Don't have that bloody cast no more," grinned Mick weakly, "but I reckon there's more they can't mend."

"No," Sirius said softly, then more forcefully, "they can-- they have to heal you."

"I hear them wizard doctors talking..." Mick waved a hand and let it fall on the sheet with a soft thud, almost a sigh, the only sound in the room. "They fixed you up...and Davy, too, I hear tell."

"Davy's fine, just fine," breathed Sirius, eager to have something positive to say. "He's going to be fine and so are--"

"How's the beast then?" Mick interrupted, a note of urgency in his hoarse voice.

"My Dad says she's a mess." He shook his head and then smiled weakly. "I'm sure you can fix her. Maybe I can help."

"Nothin' would please me more, Sirius, lad. Nothin' in all the world." Mick's voice trailed off as he took a huge breath. For some time, merely breathing occupied him, as if this were burden enough. Each breath seemed to carry him farther away from the hospital room and from Sirius. City sounds filtered through the windows and tightly drawn curtains. Muggle sounds: cars, buses, ambulances, and motorcycles, too. An entire city of Muggles, millions of them, surged outside.

"Mick," he began, the words tumbling out as he tried desperately to fill the chasm yawning between them. "after we get the Black Shadow fixed... I've been thinking that I could do an enchantment that would--I mean, I could make her fly, really fly with magic." Mick looked at him with interest, although only his eyes moved in response. "I've made smaller things fly, never anything so large, but I--"

With great effort, Mick reached out and grasped his arm, stopping the boy's babble. His grip was surprisingly strong.

"Listen to me, lad," he rasped, his words coming to Sirius from far away. "I want you to have her, that beast of mine. I told Betty so, and I'm tellin' you now." He stopped, exhausted by so much talking.

"No," Sirius protested, staring intently into Mick's dark eyes glittering like uncut gems in his pallid face.

"I can't very well give the bloody thing to Davy," he coughed weakly, attempting a laugh. "She'd kill him within a week." Sirius tried to laugh, too, but failed. Mick drew a huge, rattling breath, still clasping Sirius' arm. His eyes roamed the room, searching for something, but he could no longer see the boy.

"I'd like to see that beast fly..." he murmured, so softly that Sirius could barely make out the words. Then, his fingers relaxed, strength and will flowing out of them like the ebbing of the tide. Without understanding how or why, Sirius knew he was gone. He sat motionless for a minute or two, as if any movement would force him to acknowledge what had taken place.

Suddenly there was sound and movement from the door as the Healer entered the room with a gasp. Sirius did not look up, but heard his father's voice calling her from the door, telling her to wait. Instead, she came swiftly to the bed, taking the other hand of her patient to search for a pulse. Leaping up, Sirius knocked her aside roughly.

"No!" he raged. "Get away! He doesn't need your help anymore."

She retreated for the door rather than argue with what was in his eyes. Sirius stood looking down at the bed, dizzy from standing so suddenly and teetering unsteadily. Mick looked even smaller now, the white linens and pillows about to swallow him, sending him away across a great gulf that Sirius could not bridge. Poised on the edge of that terrifying chasm, Sirius wanted to follow... if only he had the strength to drag Mick back. He stopped seeing else in the room and blindly reached his hands out--the blackness, the void, called to him. He fell to his knees next to the bed and gripped Mick's arm, bowing his head and thinking desperately: if only I had the strength.

"You can't bring him back," came the quiet voice of his father from the door, sounding a universe away.

Sirius looked up with empty eyes, only partly in the world of the living. Why had he been called back when he was so close?

"He's gone," his father said with a muted urgency which sounded distant and alien, "and we need you here."

Sirius pulled away from the bed, withdrawing his arms and crouching on the floor. He trembled violently and both his father and the Healer moved toward him in concern. All of a sudden, he sprang up. Howling with rage and frustration, he attacked his father, pummeling him with clenched fists and raving incoherently. But he was weak and his father, still the larger man, seized his arms and pinned them to his sides. Sirius struggled, ever fainter. Finally, he was spent and could only stand shivering, kept from collapsing by his father's firm grip.

"Sirius, stay with us," he whispered. "We need you here."

Blindly, Sirius took a step forward and fell into his father's enfolding arms. Wordlessly he shook, but could not bring himself to cry.

~~~~

Plink. Plink. Plinkety. Plink. Sirius heard the sound of metal bouncing on metal as he walked along the side of the garage toward the back. The last time he had trodden this path he'd been a dog, and he had the strong urge to do that now, to let Padfoot run free, far away from the village and from Hollerith's Garage. But he continued walking. It was probably going to rain soon anyway.

Crash. The sound of many bits of metal clattering against the ground and each other came to him as he rounded the corner. There was Davy standing on the grass amid a sea of small parts: bolts, nuts, washers, other things Sirius didn't know. Several half-filled cardboard boxes were arrayed on the ground, including the one that had just spilled its contents at Davy's feet. The younger boy gazed forlornly at the mess around him. His expression did not change when he looked up and noticed Sirius.

"Hey, Davy. I heard you were home," he called. When he got no reply, he continued, "I got home the day before yesterday and... my mother's back, so at least we don't have to eat my cooking any more."

Davy stared at him with glum incomprehension for another minute, then looked down at his feet. "Funeral's t-t-tomorrow." His stutter still hadn't worn off completely.

"Yeah," Sirius replied quietly. Neither of them spoke for a time until Sirius recollected himself and addressed the metallic jetsam on the lawn, "What're you doing with this junk?"

"My dad wants me to clean all this up." He waved a hand at the rough work area behind him consisting of a plank table and various half-finished motorcycle projects. "He never liked the mess back here."

Sirius knelt on the ground and helped to pick up parts as Davy showed him the various boxes for sorting. They worked in relative silence for a while. The clinking sound of metal against metal was all that either of them could tolerate.

After a time, Davy sighed and said, "He wants me to get rid of my T-t-triumph, too. Of course, he'd like to blow that thing to pieces..." He nodded his head toward the pile of tarps, now covering a large motorcycle-shaped lump, too large to be the Triumph. Noticing it for the first time, Sirius rose slowly, putting his hands out as he walked toward her.

"I tried to start it, just to see if it would, you know... but nothing happened," Davy said as Sirius snatched at the tarps, struggling to free the beast.

Sirius ran his hands from the handlebars to the metal logo and over the leather seat. The once shiny black metal was scorched, if that was the right word, and a faint iridescent sheen covered everything. As he stroked her, Sirius felt his hands tingle and the hair on his arms rise.

"Still cursed," he murmured to himself. He looked back at Davy. "My father said this might happen. She took a lot of the curse on herself. Dad says that he can show me how to break the curse, though. Runs in the family, I guess." He attempted a smile.

"Uncle Mick wanted you to have it, her, I mean," Davy said solemnly. "Mum told me what he said."

"Yeah... he told me, too." Sirius sighed and shook his head. "Look, Davy, he was your uncle and I-"

"No. You keep her," Davy responded in a surprisingly sharp tone as he joined Sirius next to the Black Shadow. "He liked you. A lot. I could tell and... I'd probably just kill myself anyway." Both boys grinned at the thought.

Sirius whistled softly to himself, then addressed Davy, excitement growing in his voice, "I'm sure after the curse is lifted there'll be other things wrong. You can help me fix her up."

Davy's face lit up at the thought, reminding Sirius of how he'd looked after his first ride on the Shadow. He was reminded of something else, too.

"I think," Sirius said, resolve bursting upon him, "that I might be able to enchant her and make her fly. Wouldn't that be cool?"

"Is it legal?" Davy asked hesitantly, intrigued nonetheless.

"Not exactly. I mean, I don't think so... but it would be very cool. Maybe I can convince Professor Tesla that it's my term project for Muggle Studies." They both laughed at the thought.

"I don't know if I can figure out the spell on my own," Sirius pondered, "but if I can get her back to school, James and Remus can work on it, too. We should be able to do it.... Yeah. I'll have to find a way to get her up to Hogwarts, maybe stash her in the village."

He paced around the Shadow as he talked, growing more excited with each word. Davy continued to stare at the motorcycle, touching the Vincent logo with tentative fingers.

"I'd like to see that," he replied dreamily. "It'll probably be a big secret and all, but when you get it to fly, will you let me see?"

Sirius stopped his pacing and a smile stole across his face.

"You mean you'll be back at school next month?"

"Yeah," Davy said, ducking his head and talking to his feet. "You were right about- about what you said. And I think that Uncle Mick-- Well, he never ran away from anything and I don't reckon I should either."

"Great!" Sirius grinned the largest grin he could remember in a long while.

Davy's face seemed happy, too, but then clouded over as he said, "Oh. But do you think we'll be allowed to go back? The way that Mr. Fudge talked, I thought we were going to be expelled or something."

"Don't worry," Sirius laughed. "I think my father's finally got them convinced, although it took some work." He sighed. "We're not supposed to talk about any of it, though. Too bad... a few of my friends would find this whole thing mighty interesting."

Thinking about the return to Hogwarts made Sirius wonder if Elise de Mornay would be back at school. He hoped, for Davy's sake, that her memory was really gone and that her family would send her away on a long, long rest-cure. Shaking his head to clear those thoughts, he resumed his animated pacing.

"And if any Slytherins or anyone else, for that matter, bother you, I'll fix them," he winked at Davy. "No, better yet, I'll teach you a few things that might come in handy. Want to know how to make someone's clothes vanish and reappear three feet away? That's a good one! And then there's the usual slime and muck charms, but you probably know those...."

Davy stared at him gratefully, as if glimpsing a door into an alien world. "I would like that," he replied with a grateful smile.

"Sure," Sirius countered with a wave of his hand. "Now, let's get started on the Shadow. There's lots to do. I can't believe there's only four weeks left until school starts!"

The End

Sirius Black had a large, black flying motorcycle that he loved. That's all we find out from JKR on the subject. It got me thinking…

Often the things we love are those for which we pay most dearly. What did it cost Sirius to get the motorcycle? That's how this story was conceived. In the writing of it, I got lots of great feedback and reviews. Many, many thanks to all reviewers, particularly those who ask hard (and interesting) questions !!! Keep 'em coming!

Okay, anyone want to see a sequel in which Sirius and his friends at Hogwarts make the Shadow fly? Should Elise come back into it? Let me know what you think…

Revised 5 March 2004.

- CLS