Beautiful Day
Beautiful Day
By Margot -
cherry@time-stranger.net
A/N: Chapter two, off without a hitch. Okay, maybe
one hitch: Hagrid's accent. It's messed up, I know. Don't blame
me, I wrestled with it for several hours and finally consulted
the books, only to find that his accent keeps changing. Thanks
tons to my beta readers Nicole (my skepticism about how anyone
could possibly like Snape THAT much shall live eternal ^^) and
Alex, who will always be my beta reader *sings*. Also to the reviewers:
Aira, Black Goddess (keep reading and you'll find out ^~), ~Skydancer,
ZunPad (thank you ^^), Hazel Oculare, Pleiades (thanks ^^), and
Orange Girl. THANK YOU ALL
*
Chapter Two - The End of the
Road Part I
*
"It is possible to provide
security against other ills, but as far as death is concerned,
we live in a city without walls."
**
He was unsure of how long he
had been kneeling with the child cradled in his arms, only that
the seconds had stretched themselves into days and the days into
eternity. If only those precious seconds could go backwards instead
of forwards. If only he had gone directly to the Potters' instead
of wasting precious time at Peter's. If only he had realized what
a fool he had been, if only he had kept his promise.
If only.
He shifted the baby's position
in his arms so that its head overlooked his shoulder and held
it close to his own heart, his eyes clamped tightly shut. How
he wished for his tears to flow, but they would not. There were
none left.
A sudden sound of cracking wood
came from behind him and his eyes flew open. With surprising dexterity,
he shifted the baby into one arm and pulled out his wand with
the other, then whipped around and aimed it directly at the stranger.
"What do you want?"
Sirius tried to shout but failed miserably, instead only rasping
the demand. The figure in the shadows was enormous, and Sirius
realized, when the figure came into the light, that it was only
Hagrid.
"Sirius," Hagrid said
softly, two enormous tears sliding down his cheeks and into his
great black beard, "James an' Lily... I can't believe it,
I jus' can't."
Sirius looked up remorsefully
at Hagrid but felt no inclination towards comforting him. He had
nothing to say.
He doesn't understand. He
could never understand.
"Is that Harry?" Hagrid
asked, noticing the bundle in Sirius' arms. Sirius nodded mutely
and shrunk back a little, feeling a sudden need to protect both
the child and himself. Hagrid did not notice as he began to step
towards them.
"Poor kid, can't be more
'an ten months old an' 'is parents are gone... can I hold 'im?"
Sirius glanced down at the child,
who had fallen asleep in his arms, and clutched him tighter. He
looked back up to Hagrid, an expression of absolute fear on his
face.
"Please?" Hagrid repeated,
moving closer to Sirius and holding out his enormous hands. Meekly,
Sirius placed Harry in them. Hagrid pulled the boy close to his
chest, mumbling quietly.
"Poor Harry, di'nt even
have a chance to know 'is parents."
Sirius got to his feet and dusted
his hands on his cloak, feeling a sense of awkwardness mix with
everything else. His hands left behind dull streaks of white dust
that contrasted sharply with the blackness of his cloak. He barely
noticed them.
"Poor kid," Hagrid
repeated for the third time. Then, with an uncharacterized sense
of importance, "I've got ter take 'im ter Dumbledore."
Finally, Sirius awoke. "No,"
he rasped.
"Dumbledore's orders."
"No," Sirius
repeated. His words lacked the force that he wanted, but they
were louder, stronger than the first time.
"Dumbledore's orders,"
Hagrid repeated, as if the repetition emphasized the point in
Sirius' mind any more, "'e's got ter live with 'is aunt an'
uncle."
"No." Finally,
the vehemence that Sirius had begged for came out full-force.
He had regained his composure, if only for the moment. "NO."
Hagrid looked sympathetic but
resolute. "Sirius-"
There was a sound of pleading
in Sirius' request that he couldn't remember having ever used.
"I'll take him. I'm his godfather. Let me take him."
"Sorry, but it's not fer
me ter decide. 'e's got ter live with his Muggle aunt in Little
Whinging in Surrey, Dumbledore says. It's fer the best, you know
'at's true."
Sirius couldn't reply. His arms
fell limply to his sides and swung there like heavy clubs. Never
had he experienced such an immense feeling of loss, of despondency;
everything was slipping away. His eyes fell and he looked away
from Hagrid and Harry, to...
To...
His whole body trembled. He
pleaded it to stop but it paid him no heed. His arms began to
shake and he immediately flung them around himself, his cloak
no longer protecting him from the cold.
With a single stride, Hagrid
crossed over to him. "Sirius... I'm sorry." Out of the
corner of his eye, Sirius saw Hagrid move his free arm towards
his face, then put it back to his side. "Don't worry, when
we find the bastard who ratted 'em out to You-Know-Who, we'll..."
Sirius quivered involuntarily.
"We'll make sure 'e gets
what's comin' to 'im. But fer now I've got to take li'l Harry
to 'is aunt's house. Dumbledore'll be waitin' there fer me."
Sirius didn't respond as Hagrid
turned his back to him.
"Dammit, 'ow am I goin'
ter get there?" he wondered aloud. Sirius turned. A strange
expression had curtained his face, the only evidence of the sudden
transformation that had occurred inside him.
We'll make sure he gets what's
coming to him.
"Take my motorbike,"
he said quietly. Hagrid turned again to face him. "Take it.
Do whatever you want with it. I don't care."
"Really? Yeh're sure?"
Hagrid's face lit up as he clearly took no notice of the bitterness
and rage in Sirius' voice.
"Yeah. I don't want it.
Don't need it. You take it."
"Thanks!" Hagrid exclaimed.
In only a few strides, he moved towards the fallen motorcycle
and lifted it onto its wheels with a single sweeping motion, carefully
cradling Harry in his arm. He swung one leg over it.
"It'll take you a while
to get there," Sirius called miserably. Hagrid simply gave
him a brief wave and, with a quick rev of the motorcycle, went
roaring into the air and zoomed out of sight.
Sirius' eyes lingered on it
until it finally disappeared. They drooped miserably, desperate
for sleep and relief. He moved a finger up to touch the skin just
below them. It felt puffy, inflamed. As he expected. Inside, however,
he was not crying out for sleep or relief.
But for revenge.
He threw one last, quick look
at his fallen friends, afraid of what would happen if his glance
had lingered any longer. Besides, it was not how he wanted to
remember them.
Not like this.
The top of the golden sun had
already started to peek over the horizon, spreading shades of
blue, purple, and red across the sky, forcing them to bleed into
the soft white clouds. Sirius glared at it bitterly.
When would they ever get
to see a sunrise again?
Never.
His hands balled into tights
fists.
Make sure he gets what's
coming to him.
He walked away from the Potters'
house, a bottle of mixed emotions of the worst kind, up the hill
and down the empty streets of Godric's Hollow.
*******
London.
With a quiet pop, Sirius appeared
in Diagon Alley. He barely acknowledged his surroundings, ignoring
the signs perched above the shop doors that swung mockingly at
him in the cool breeze. Few people were down the Alley at seven
in the morning and even fewer paid him any attention.
Never mind, it didn't matter.
His mind was set; no distraction would prevent him from what he
had come here to do.
Peter will be here.
With a quick swing of his arm,
he pushed open the back door to the Leaky Cauldron. It was dark,
dank, and nearly empty except for Tom behind the counter and a
tired-looking goblin in the corner. Neither one paid any attention
to Sirius. He crossed the small pub in ten paces and lifted his
arm to push open the Cauldron's front door, but quickly stopped
himself as the door swung open by itself.
"Peter. Knew I'd find you."
An expression of absolute terror
fell across Peter's face, but his eyes sparkled with a murderous
glint. "S-Sirius! I-"
"Shut up!!" Sirius
shouted, exploding with rage. He could feel the eyes of the Cauldron's
one patron on his back but he ignored it. He lifted his arm again
and pushed Peter out of the pub and onto the sunny London street,
considerably busier than Diagon Alley.
Sirius opened his mouth to condemn
Peter, but the rat beat him to it. "Sirius!!"
He shrieked loudly, ensuring the attention of all within hearing
range. "How could you?! James and Lily, our best friends!!
How could you!" To his old friend's ears, his familiar painful
shriek sounded contrived and imaginary.
Sirius' eyes widened as he quickly
caught on.
A set up, this was all a
set up...
"You bastard," his
voice quieted. "I'll kill you."
"A spy for You-Know-Who?!
Sirius Black, how could you?! The Potters made you their Secret-Keeper
and you betrayed them!" Peter raised his voice, ensuring
that any passing wizards would immediately pay attention and take
note. Several people stopped and a number of small cries could
be heard. Sirius' eyes widened frantically.
This can't be happening.
"Shut up, you rat!!"
Sirius shouted, partly from rage, partly in an effort to get Peter
to keep his voice down. "It's you, it's always been you!"
Peter gave another loud shriek.
"I'll kill you. I'll kill
you!!" Sirius immediately yanked his wand out of his dirty
cloak, but again, Peter beat him to it. In a fraction of a second,
the entire area was engulfed in thick gray smoke. Sirius could
see nothing... until Peter's face loomed into view once again.
The expression of terror was gone from his face, replaced by a
smug grin.
"Close, Padfoot, but not
close enough."
"Fuck you," Sirius
spat, half choked by the smoke. He lunged for Peter, his hands
locking around Peter's neck and quickly tightening. Peter, however,
didn't look uncomfortable. In a split second, his wand arm pointed
at the ground beneath him and a sick grin on his face, he whispered,
"Mora Oblittero." He dissolved from Sirius' grasp
as he changed into his Animagus form and scampered away. Sirius
barely had time to flinch before an explosion knocked him off
his feet. Instinctively, he covered his face with his arms. He
could hear distant-sounding screams but blocked them out.
This can't be happening.
The dust cleared and still Sirius
lay crouched on the ground, his arms shielding his face. He could
still hear screams and loud voices surrounding him, but he paid
them no attention. He buried his face in his arms and dissolved
away, away from the piercing stares of the crowd and the fact
that was inevitably on its way.
This can't be happening...
He felt something nudge his
back. He ignored it.
"Sirius Black, get on your
feet."
He ignored it.
The same thing nudged his back
again, harder. He slowly moved his face away from his arms and
pushed himself to his feet, only to find himself staring blankly
into the eyes of a dark blue-cloaked man with large yellow letters
reading "HIT" across his chest and back. His eyes held
Sirius' unflinchingly and his black hair was tucked messily beneath
a blue cap, allowing his pale skin to appear even whiter. He looked
angry indeed.
"It's all over," Sirius
whispered quietly. The man seemed slightly surprised by Sirius'
words but appeared to quickly shake it as he pointed his wands
directly at Sirius' hands and bound them with handcuffs.
"Sirius Black, you are
under arrest for the murder of-"
Sirius stood in his place but
allowed his eyes to wander. Bodies lay everywhere, several having
already been wrapped in black bags. Dark, crimson pools of blood
stained the asphalt underneath them and slowly trickled their
way towards the nearest drains. Hit wizards were catching frantic
Muggles and shouts of "Obliviate!" could be heard
from all directions. At the same time, a horrified crowd had gathered
nearby, watching Sirius and the hit wizard in horror. Despite
all the activity, there was a strange, lingering stillness in
the air that filled Sirius with a sense of calmness and complacency.
No point in fighting now,
they're already got you.
He became conscious of everything
around him except his own body, as if he were playing a part in
a tragic play- understanding his situation but still knowing it
was somehow unreal.
"Come on, then," the
hit wizard said impatiently, "got to get you to the courthouse."
"What?" Sirius asked
quietly, suddenly coming back to his own body.
The hit wizard narrowed his
eyes. "You're responsible for the deaths of these people
as well as being an alleged Death Eater. You've got to be tried,
or don't you know how the legal system works?"
It's real.
"Is this a joke?"
"You wish," the hit
wizard growled. As an afterthought, he added, his voice narrowing
bitterly, "Let's just hope they put you away for a good long
time, you fuck."
Sirius starred at the hit wizard.
He looked about twenty-two or twenty-three, couldn't possibly
be older than Sirius himself... and still his face was covered
in wrinkles.
The things he must have seen...
Finally, it dawned on him. The
things he'd seen were all around them... and he thought it was
Sirius' fault.
Sirius Black? Responsible
for these deaths?
"That's hilarious,"
Sirius muttered.
"It's bloody well not."
Sirius chuckled quietly in disbelief,
not knowing how else to react. They think I did this.
That this is my fault. He begin to laugh louder.
"Is this a joke
to you?" the hit wizard shouted angrily, stepping back from
Sirius as though insanity was contagious.
"No," Sirius spluttered
between fits of raucous laughter. Despite his handcuffs, he clutched
at the newly-formed stitch in his side.
I murdered these people.
I'm going to jail.
Several more hit wizards hauled
Sirius away.
*******
The room was lit only by the
sparsely-placed torches along the walls. Everything was brown:
the walls, the torches, the seats in the gallery, the bench. Shadows
danced in all directions in tune with the wavering of the torchlight.
The silence from the gallery began to pound in Sirius' ears.
"Sirius Black, approach
the bench."
Sirius stood up from his single
uncomfortable chair and stepped towards Bartemius Crouch, perched
behind a protective wooden desk. It rose above everything else
in the room; when Sirius approached it, he found his eyes met
just below the top of it. Crouch looked down at him, an expression
on his face as though he was watching someone vomit.
"This court finds you guilty
of the murder of James and Lily Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and twelve
as yet unidentified Muggles. You are hereby sentenced to a lifetime
in Azkaban. Anything to say for yourself?"
Sirius' eyes bulged in their
sockets. "Don't I get a fair trial?"
The room suddenly filled with
hushed whispers from the gallery. "No," Crouch announced
loudly over the other voices, "there are over a dozen witnesses-
order! - over a dozen witnesses, it would be - order! -
would be a waste of our time - ORDER!!" He was now shouting
and banging his gavel against the bench, frantically trying to
get all present to stop talking. They lowered their voices but
adamantly refused to stop altogether. Sirius hadn't had a chance
to see who was present. He was unsure if he wanted to know who
was watching.
"More importantly, we are
in a state of martial law." Crouch muttered something under
his breath that sounded distinctly like, "Not that you
deserve a proper trial anyway."
"Return to your seat,"
he announced, gratified at the return of the silence. Sirius took
two steps backwards and fell into his chair, slouching forward
like a rebellious teenager, although there were nothing he felt
less like.
"Bailiff," Crouch
resumed, indicating that the gruff-looking wizard to his left
should approach the bench. "You may take the..." he
coughed lightly, "the 'prisoner' away."
The bailiff stepped towards
Sirius and beckoned to him like a master towards a dirty slave,
but Sirius refused to move. Instead, he wrapped as much of his
arms as he could around the arms of his chair and glared defiantly
up at Crouch's bench. "No."
Crouch stared at Sirius, looking
utterly scandalized. "Excuse me?" Again, voices
rose from the gallery, but this time, Crouch made no attempt to
silence them.
"I'm not going to Azkaban."
Crouch raised his voice slightly,
temper flaring. "Mr. Black, I will not-"
"I didn't do it!!"
Sirius shouted, leaping to his feet. His cheeks flushed with a
furious red and his fists trembled through their cuffs. The voices
in the gallery continued to rise.
"Sir, either you go willingly
to Azkaban or you will be taken there by force!!"
A tense silence fell over Crouch
and Sirius so thick that it could have been cut with a rusty blade.
The people in the gallery refused to keep their voices hushed
any longer. Finally, Sirius tore his eyes from Crouch and looked
towards the gallery.
There were dozens of darkly
robed people seated on the benches, all turning to each other
and whispering or talking loudly, occasionally throwing furtive
glances at Sirius. Only two people were not exchanging theories
and judgments.
Albus Dumbledore. There, perched
in the middle of the back row, he sat watching Sirius with no
expression on his tired, wrinkled face. His white beard glistened
slightly in the torchlight but otherwise he showed no signs of
movement.
And Remus Lupin. Sirius caught
his heart in his throat. Remus was seated near the front and off
to the far left, slightly separated from the others. His dirty
blond hair fell exhaustedly around his face as it usually did
at this time of the month and his cheeks were dark and sunken,
a sharp contrast to his pale skin. The bags under his eyes were
lined with darkness as if someone had drawn on them with charcoal.
His eyes, however, were what truly made Sirius choke.
Until that point, Sirius thought
that being able to see emotions through another's eyes was something
only found in irritating romance novels. Remus' eyes, however,
proved otherwise. He sat with his arms crossed, an otherwise blank
expression on his face, but his eyes flashed a million things.
Betrayal, distrust, anger, hate... complete and total disgust.
Sirius' legs nearly buckled.
Impact was finally beginning to settle on him. He'd lost everything.
Everything.
He stared directly at Remus,
desperately hoping that his old friend would be able to see the
fear and regret in his face, but Remus didn't even flinch. He
continued to hold Sirius' own gaze, the same horrible emotions
flashing in his eyes... betrayal, distrust, anger, hate, disgust.
The bailiff grabbed a newly-subdued
Sirius' shoulder firmly and steered him out of the court, all
eyes on them. And still, his own eyes lingered on Remus, the emotions
still flashing in his old friend's eyes.
Betrayal. Distrust. Anger. Hate.
Disgust.