Hell opened up, and put on sale;
gather 'round and haggle.
For hard cash we will lie
and deceive; even our masters don't
know the webs we weave.
One world, it's a
battleground;
One world and we will smash
it down.
-Pink Floyd "The Dogs of
War"
Chapter
2: Dead Man Talking
Sirius Black was having a
fairly good day until the dead man bought him a drink.
After Harry Potter's revelation
that Voldemort had been restored to health and power, Black had been tasked by
Albus Dumbledore to reconnect with some of the wizards and witches who had
valiantly resisted Voldemort the first time around. He was aided in this work by Remus Lupin, his best (still living)
friend and occasional werewolf. Not the
least of Remus' contributions was convincing the aforementioned wizards and
witches not to kill Sirius on sight.
Due to the cowardly (but
viciously cunning) treachery of Peter Pettigrew, Sirius was believed to be a
murderous agent of Lord Voldemort himself.
He was known to the mystical and mundane worlds at large to be a murderous
escapee. The wizards "knew"
him to have escaped from Azkaban, the (formerly) inescapable wizard prison and
had marked him to be subjected to the soul-destroying "kiss" of the
vile Dementors. The non-magical persons
of the world, "muggles" as the wizards called them, believed Sirius
to be a murderer and a terrorist. If
they somehow found him, they wouldn't destroy his soul. Instead, they'd "merely" shoot him
full of more holes than Swiss cheese.
Neither of these fates appealed to Sirius in the slightest, so he was
attempting to keep a low profile. He'd
dyed his black hair a grayish-brown and cut it short. He wore rounded, copper-rimmed spectacles on his face. Instead of wizard's robes, he wore a
rumpled, brown business suit (which tended to ride up in the seat. Gods alone
knew how the muggles could tolerate such a hideously uncomfortable style of
clothing without going mad.) He looked much like a tax accountant or
bureaucratic functionary stopping off at pub for a nice Guinness Stout before
heading to his (rather dreary) home. The style of dress was deliberate. One of
the things Sirius knew was that the best disguise made the person using it look
unlike themselves and like nobody in particular.
So, wrapped in his cloak of
mundanity, Sirius Black was awaiting Percival J. Cobblepot, who worked in the
Section for the Investigation of Cosmological, Paranormal and Unexplained
Phenomenon (SICPUP). The "sicpups" (who utterly loathed the
unfortunate nickname fobbed on them by their acronym) were ostensibly a
"think-tank" funded by the British government. They supposedly
thought up ways to prevent the earth from being invaded by space aliens or
destroyed by giant meteors. In truth, the sicpups had formerly worked with
people in the Ministry of Magic to help contain dangerous situations of a
mystical nature and prevent them from becoming general public knowledge. Currently, SICPUP was "out-of-the-loop" on
matters magical in general and Voldemort's return in particular. On Dumbledore's instructions, Sirius was
here to bring them back into the loop.
Unfortunately, the group was
ridiculed by the rest of the muggle government (who weren't in the know about
the magic beneath their very noses). As such, SICPUP tended to become a dumping
ground for all the malcontents, unemployed relatives of government officials
and outright loons that the government couldn't place anywhere else. During the
last struggles with Voldemort, Sirius had found them to be the most obtuse,
ill-organized and downright insane people he'd ever met. One fellow, a rather
huge James Bond fan, had somehow requisitioned a whole load of geological
survey equipment in order to seek out Voldemort's base (which he was convinced
was in a hollowed out volcano somewhere in Scotland. It wasn't.). The last
anyone ever heard from him was in the note he'd left. In it, he'd declared his
intention to let himself be captured by Voldemort's forces, learn the Dark
Lord's plans when he bragged about them and then escape.
Although, Sirius mused. There
was a skeleton in a pit of flesh-eating beetles in one of Voldemort's
hidey holes that looked strangely familiar…
"Well, well, well, Paddy
Footen, as I live and breathe," said a jovial male voice. "Fancy seeing you after all this time."
Sirius, who'd been lost in
recollections, felt a brief moment of panic at the sudden greeting. Especially considering the name that had
been used. Raising his gaze, he saw a
tall, white-haired man whose steel-gray eyes glittered with a kind of malicious
amusement. The man's tan overcoat was
open and revealed a well-tailored, pinstriped business suit. He was leaning on an ornate, dragon-headed
cane. He carried a brown, leather
briefcase in hand, which he set on the seat opposite Sirius. Then, without waiting for an invitation (or
even a reply to his first words) Martin Deveraux sat down.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Black cursed himself. The whole point
of picking the corner booth was so he could watch the door and be able to slip
out the back if someone (such as, for example, an absolute prick of a
self-squibbed wizard whom Black had happily thought dead for twenty years or
so) he didn't like the looks of
happened to come inside the pub.
Questions fired through Black's mind at the speed of light, even as he
twisted his wrist to let his wand slide into a hand he held below the
table. Could he get out the back? Was it being guarded? What did Deveraux
want? How did he know about Black being
Padfoot? And, finally, how in God's
name had he known where to find Sirius?
A couple of Black's questions
were answered in a dismayingly short time.
As he looked around, he saw several people whose manner screamed
"military" lounging not-so-casually around the pub. As though to underscore his predicament, a large, thickly muscled
man with mud-colored hair and emerald green eyes came through the back door,
nodded to Deveraux and then leaned against the doorpost.
"Barkeep!" Deveraux called out.
When the bartender looked up, Deveraux continued. "Bring us a nice bottle of
Scotch and three glasses. One for me,
two for my friend. He's probably going
to need them."
When Deveraux turned back
around Sirius saw him smiling so contentedly he almost thought he saw canary
feathers between the man's thin, bloodless lips.
"So,
Sirius, how've you been lately? Seems
like the circumstances are a bit different from the last time we saw each
other, eh?"
20-odd years ago in the
Hogwarts Great Hall
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was
empty of tables but filled with students.
Albus Dumbledore had called them together to mark a far more solemn
occasion than usual – the public expulsion of a student.
"Can you believe that they're
actually going to toss out 'Smarty' Marty?" a much younger Sirius Black asked
his three companions and occasional "partners-in-crime."
"Too bad they don't include a
few more Slytherins," Remus Lupin agreed. "I wouldn't mind seeing the back of
Snape, Malfoy and the rest. 'Trusted
head boy' or no trusted head boy, there's no way in hell Smarty pulled this one
all by his lonesome. Heck, he was practically
a Squib even before all this happened."
The student, one Martin Joseph
Deveraux, had apparently broken into the school's library one night. As Head Boy, he had much greater access than
many of the other students. After he'd
broken in, the sixth year had managed to locate several very powerful tomes of
Dark magic before being caught by the Librarian and several teachers. That was all that the students had been
told. However, rumors had been flying
fast and thick about some sort of magical accident in the Library and even
darker deeds.
"W-Well why would he cover for
them, then? I mean, if he gave them up,
Dumbledore might've let him off with a suspension," a smaller boy, Peter
Pettigrew put in.
"Maybe he's not willing to pay
the price to stay," James Potter said thoughtfully. "If it was us that'd done this, I'd like to think I wouldn't sell
you guys out just to stick around here."
"Yeah," Remus replied. "But
we're us, and they're them!" He hooked a thumb toward the Slytherins,
especially Malfoy and his crew. Lucius
Malfoy and company looked about the same as they usually did. Rumor had it that Malfoy was in the running
to be Head Boy, though it was unlikely he'd get it. Albus Dumbledore was supposed to be older than God, but nobody in
the school believed he was that senile.
"Huh?" Sirius noted. "Looks
like Snape swallowed something nasty this morning, doesn't it?" Indeed, Severus
Snape looked nervous, perhaps even worried.
While Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy came from wealthy wizardling families,
Snape did not and seemed to depend on the "kindness" of Malfoy's crew for the
luxuries he enjoyed. As a "poorer
relation" in the family of wizards, Snape had no powerful family to protect
him. As such, he would be the logical
scapegoat if further punishments were to be handed down based on evidence
Deveraux might give.
"Maybe he sucked a lime instead
of his usual lemon," Peter suggested.
"Maybe he's got a guilty
conscience," Remus opined.
Sirius snorted. "That assumes
that stuck-up sneak has a conscience.
Which I doubt. Gods, I hope they
start soon. I cannot wait for
this. Do you know how many times we've
taken crap from Dev 'cause he was Head Boy?
Like it was a game to see how many times he could score off us. And those tricks, too. Hell, I still get queasy when I
remember how he slipped that muggle medicine, Ex-Lax, into my Levitation
potion! I rose into the air on a
magical wind, all right. Bastard!"
"I'm sure he'll be here soon,
Sirius," said Peter, who tended to get nervous whenever others got too
agitated, as though he feared being stepped on by his larger, stronger
companions (which had almost happened once when James had turned into Prongs,
his elk form, while Peter was on the ground as a rat).
"I heard that Deveraux only got
out of the medical wing today," James informed them. "Anybody know what really
happened to him?"
"Nobody knows what
happened to him," Remus informed them all. "I asked Hagrid, the
groundskeeper. Some folks say he's
close to the Headmaster. Anyway, he
says that they're not even going to say what Marty was trying to do. Said they were afraid it'd give other
students ideas. Anyway, except for
Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic, nobody knows what happened."
"Um, almost," Peter said in a
self-satisfied voice.
"What? No. No way!" Sirius said. Once he, James and Peter had achieved their
secret animagus status, Peter had become even more the "scout" of the four. Thus, the "Marauders" as they called
themselves, had access to a great deal of supposedly secret information. Still, the idea that Peter had been able to
find out a secret as huge as this was almost unbelievable.
"Well, come on then. Spill!" urged James. While he was consider by many to be one of
the more mature students, especially among the other fifth years, James Potter
was no more immune to the pull of curiosity than any of them.
Peter pursed his lips. "I don't
know…" he said, preening a little. It
wasn't often that he was the center of attention and he wanted to enjoy it for
all it was worth.
"Oh, come on!" James said as
they all moved to one side for a bit of privacy.
"Well, okay then," Peter said,
beginning his tale for his eager listeners.
Anyway, I'd decided to, you
know, practice changing and such, so I could do it more quickly. Never know when being small might come in
handy in a getaway. Okay, so I was
going through the vent pipes when I heard voices and I went to go check it
out.
No Sirius, not to spy on the
girls' shower room! Gods, is that the
only thing you think of? I'm surprised
I don't see you humping somebody's leg, as horny a hound as you-
All right, fellows, all right,
let me finish. Okay, so the voice I
hear are Marty's and Dumbledore's and that Minister Guy whose name I forgot.
And they were talking, see?
I'm getting to the about what
part, guys. I swear, sometimes you
guys're as bad as that Crouch guy we heard about that works at the
Ministry! Now, you wanna pull out the
pincers and hot irons or can I please finish?
Fine, Sirius, the longer you think it over the loner it'll take to get
my story.
Thank you! So, anyway, the Ministry Guy's yelling at
Marty and Marty's not talking're anything and then Dumbledore kinda suggests,
if you know what I mean, that maybe the Minister should leave and cool off for
just a bit and then it's just Dumbledore and Marty and then Dumbledore asks
Marty real gently to tell what happened. So then I hear Marty say something
like:
"Sir, it's like this. I want to get into the Ministry of Magic and
be an Auror, but I just don't have the power for it. I'm muggle-blooded on both sides of my family. So, I decided to try and get more
power. Anyway, I got into the Library
and into the forbidden section. Then, I
looked up the Severing Charm."
It's what they used before, you
know, Azkaban and the Dementors. I
mean, they couldn't very well just lock a wizard up someplace where he could
just Apparate out or something, Sirius.
So, they'd do the Charm on him and he couldn't use magic again. Ever.
Made him a Squib, just like that! Maybe you oughta read your History
of Magic book instead of sleeping on it.
Ow, Sirius! Leggo my ear! Thanks James.
So then Dumbledore asks him why
that one and Marty says he had an idea.
"The thing is, we've learned some Dismissal and Reversal spells in
"Defense Against the Dark Arts" and I thought about combining the Severing and
Reversal spells together. I figured
that way, instead of wiping my power out, the Severing would be reversed in
nature and make me more magical than
ever. So that way I'd be an Auror for
sure. I, uh, know it was wrong and,
well, it rather got out of control somehow."
I'm
getting to that part, Remus! So
Dumbledore says that the effect rebounded off Marty and started going after the
school. The Severing Charm starting
sucking out all the magic in Hogwarts, including some of the Dimension spells
that make Hogwarts bigger inside than outside.
Dumbledore tells him that if he and the other teachers hadn't been able
to shut it down the effect, it would've sucked all the magic out of everyone
here at the school! Possibly even
thrown us all into another whole dimension or something!
"That stupid, selfish, evil
bugger!" Sirius exclaimed in horror.
"Bloody hells, I'm glad he's a Squib now! He deserves it for that!"
"Sirius, keep your voice down!"
James hissed. "Do you want us to join
Martin in being expelled from here?" If other students heard him say that, then
so might some teachers. And the
teachers would wonder how he'd found out, since only a very few people knew
what had happened in the library. From
there, it was quite possible that James, Peter and Sirius would be unmasked as
secret animages. After this incident
with Marty, they would quite likely be expelled themselves
Like flaming torch set to
gasoline, the news that Deveraux had somehow become a Squib, a wizardborn
without the magic of his birthrate, swept through the Great Hall on a firestorm
of gossip. The only saving grace was
that no one seemed to be able to determine that Sirius had set it first.
"Guess
everybody knows now, huh?" Remus said in a light voice that belied his concern.
"Okay, then what happened?"
Okay, so anyway, Dumbledore
says that he knows that Martin couldn't have done it alone, 'cause he wouldn't
have the power to get past the wards.
It's not just 'say the password and the wards lift.' You've got to use your magic to push the
wards away like they were some type of heavy rock. So, not student alone, especially not Marty, could've done it
alone. Then he asks about the books.
The books I'm fixing to tell
you guys about! Dumbledore says
that there were some books of Dark Magic actually stolen and still
missing. Yeah, I figure Malfoy or maybe
Snape got 'em too. Then Dumbledore said
that Marty had to come clean or face public expulsion. Marty says he did it alone. Dumbledore says he understands being loyal
to friends, but this is for their own good, that those books are dangerous to
everybody. Marty says he did it alone
and the books were probably just destroyed.
He says and I remember this part, he says "Sir, I swore an oath to be
loyal to Salazar Slytherin and those in his house. You might call me a snake, and I may deserve that. But I'll be damned if I'll be called
a rat!" Yeah, I felt a bit insulted at
that one.
What,
he's coming? Lemme see!
As Sirius and the others
watched, Albus Dumbledore quietly entered the room. The old magus looked every year of whatever advanced age he'd
reached. Instead of a merry twinkle,
his eyes were filled with sadness and resignation. His robes were a subdued, dark gray and seemed to hang on him
like a funeral shroud. He reluctantly
approached the speaking podium.
"My students, my colleagues, my
friends," he began. "Traditionally, this Great Hall is a place of joy and
celebration, but not this day. This day
one of us is leaving forever. This one
has-, has betrayed this school and its principles, he has dishonored his House,
he has abused his position of responsibility.
He has done a thing that some," Here Dumbledore looked at the
Minister of Magic, whose name Sirius had still failed to remember. "might say,
is unforgivable. Martin Joseph
Deveraux, please come forth."
A door opened and a solitary
figure came forward. His hair was white
and his gray eyes seemed frozen. He
held no wand, bore no books and did not even wear his wizard's robe. Instead he wore the odd,
uncomfortable-looking clothing that the muggles had termed a "suit." The impact of his hard-soled shoes echoed
hollowly through the vaulted room. He
seemed to ignore the disapproving mutter of voices from the other students
concerning his choice of attire. His
expression altered only once when he glanced over at his former Slytherin
associates. A half-smile filled with
bitterness and secrets rushed like quicksilver across his thin lips.
Yeah, they were in on it
with him, thought Sirius, simmering with anger at justice being denied,
even while watching Malfoy's crew. They
seemed tense but confident. Of them
all, Snape was the only one who'd looked away from the smile. Rumor had it that Deveraux and Snape had
been friends of a kind due to their somewhat similar temperaments. Finally Deveraux reached the end of the
hallway and stopped before Dumbledore's podium.
Dumbledore took a faintly
ragged breath and began to speak again. "Martin Joseph Deveraux, you know the
crimes of which you have been accused and found guilty. It is therefore the ruling of the Board of
Governors of Hogwarts School that you be expelled. You are cast out from this place. You are no longer a member of the Hogwarts family. You are," again emotion briefly overpowered
Dumbledore. "are now dead to us all. Do
you understand this ruling?""
"Yes sir," Deveraux said. His voice was a thing of empty ash.
"So understanding, have you
anything else to say that might alter this decision in any way. Understand that this is your final chance to
speak to those whom you once called brothers and sisters in magic. After this moment you are dead to them and
dead to me, for all the days of our lives.
What have you to say this one, final time?"
Sirius saw the Minister glaring
daggers at Dumbledore, who was apparently going "off the script" with his last
question. Darting his eyes to the
Slytherins, he saw Malfoy's gang, Snape included, tense like coiled springs. Come
on, come on, he urged his soon to be "dead" brother-in-magic. Just spill
it here and they'll give you another chance!
After a pause that seemed
eternal, young Martin Deveraux spoke, "I have nothing further to say, sir."
Dumbledore seemed to sigh in
disappointment, "Then, as Headmaster of this noble school, I command you to be
gone from our presence."
Without a word, the boy began
walking from the Great Hall.
He was about a quarter of the
way down when it started. Someone,
perhaps even Malfoy himself, called out "So long Squib!" That final insult seemed
to make the cast out boy stumble. As if
scenting blood in the water, others, like sharks, took up that chant. Then yet others. The whole school began crying out the call as Dumbledore vainly
shouted for order. Sirius was adding
his own voice and looked around. Remus
was saying it as well, though his heart didn't seem to be in it. Peter Pettigrew was more than making up for
him. He rarely had a chance to strike
back at one of his tormentors without risk.
James Potter was silent, a look of disgust on his face. A look pointing at Sirius.
"What?" Sirius asked in a shout
to be heard. "Come on, he deserves every bit of this! He was king turd of Crap Mountain as Head Boy. Made our lives a living hell as much as he
could. Now look at him and what is he?"
He gestured at the hunched and lonely form making its way toward the Hall exit
as though fighting a windstorm.
"He's better than we are,"
James responded. Then, with a look of disappointment at those around himself,
James Potter muttered the words of a Bellow cantrip to be heard.
"The Slytherins can eat one of
their own if they want to," James called, his voice filling the Hall without
even seeming to shout. "But as a Gryffindor, I see no reason to join them for
dinner!"
Sirius winced from the shame in
his heart. James Potter had always had
a near-uncanny way of seeing the right way in any situation. And he tended to follow that way no matter
what it threatened to cost. Remus had
quit speaking just before Sirius had.
Peter saw that his friends had stopped and, after almost seeming to mull
his options, stopped as well. A few
other Gryffindors glared at James for being a "spoilsport" but they fell
quiet. Then the rest of the
Gryffindors. Then the Hufflepuffs. Then the Ravenclaws. Then the Slytherins themselves faltered and
became still. Sirius thought he saw
Severus Snape shoot James a look that might have been gratitude. With a single
sentence, James had drained the room of the hateful energy filling it. Then, save for the footsteps of the banished
student, the Great Hall was silent once more.
Martin
stepped at the edge of the door, shoulders hunched. Sirius thought he was going to break down and weep then, but he
didn't. He just stood there a long
moment, like a skeleton whose flesh and innards had been burned away. Then, seeming to draw strength from some
unknowable source, he turned back to face the crowd. And smiled something that
might have been triumph. Then, he
tipped a goodbye salute to them all, turned back around and walked out the gate
into the darkness beyond.
"So, I guess things changed
after all, don't they, Martin?" Sirius asked through gritted teeth and feeling
his wand slip further into his hand.
"Some things, Sirius, but not
all. You're still damnably easy to read
when you're trying to be sneaky. That's
how I always caught you when I was Head Boy.
I'd just look at your face and know when something was in the offing,"
Deveraux replied. "Which is why I want you to lift your arms out to the sides
very slowly."
The other customers in the pub
along with the staff, had left by this time, having been ushered out by some of
Deveraux's people. The others had those
muggle-weapons, guns, pointed at him. Sirius
hesitated.
"So, what's the plan, Martin?"
he asked. "Going to turn me into the Ministry to buy your way back into their
good graces?"
"Nay, laddie," grumbled the
Scottish accented voice of the man-mountain by the door. "Th' plan issat yer goin' ta do like th' boss
tol' ya or we're gonna splatter yer guts all o'er that booth."
Seeing little choice at
present, Sirius complied with the orders.
A large black man moved in from the side, taking care not to block the
aims of the others pointing guns at Sirius.
Sirius felt a bubble of dismay.
Whoever these people were, they weren't amateurs. Or fools.
Sirius tried to tip the wand back up his sleeve but it was spotted. The black man gripped his wrist and slipped
his sleeve up his arm. His wand sheath
and a small dagger were revealed to their gaze. Quickly, professionally, Sirius was stripped of his weapons.
"Good," said Deveraux
approvingly. "Now then, place your hands palms down, flat on the table. Do not speak unless I specifically give you
leave to speak. My team is quite familiar
with certain protocols in dealing with our, well, your kind."
Again, seething, Sirius
complied.
"You know, I remember every
detail of that evening in the Great Hall.
I remember you and Pettigrew. I
remember all of you very, very well," Deveraux said in a seemingly nostalgic
voice.
"It took everything I had to
walk that walk, you know. After it I
pretty well gave it up. Ended up down
in Brazil bent on drinking myself to death."
"Pity y-" Sirius was going say Pity
you didn't succeed but before he could really begin he felt someone seize
him by the hair and slam his head into the wooden table, making him see stars.
"Wha' part o' "Dinnae be
talkin'" did ya nae understand, fellow?" asked the Scottish giant who'd just
put him up close and personal with the wooden table.
Knowing he'd need his wits
reasonably intact, Sirius did not reply.
"Fortunately for all, I came to
my senses," Deveraux said, gesturing for Sirius to reply.
"Such as they are," Sirius said
grimly. "You seem to have gone up in the world. In some ways."
"Oh yes, quite. I eventually came back to England. Joined the army. Won some friends," Deveraux gestured at the hard-looking men with
him and smiled. "Influenced some people.
Made rather a good life for myself, one I expect to get even better
quite soon."
Sirius mulled that and a stark
realization hit him. "You betrayed us to the Muggles, didn't you? You've told them everything about us! God, Martin! How could you-"
"Betray Wizardkind? Betray "my
family?" Deveraux snorted with icy contempt. "What family there? I'm dead to you all, remember? Cast out
forever. I know who my family is. But for what it's worth, the line barring
the living from the dead is thinner and fuzzier than you might think."
"What now, Martin? You've obviously got a reason for being
here."
"That? Don't worry about that, I've got something
interesting in mind," Deveraux said cheerfully. "Too bad James got himself
killed. I always rather appreciated
what he did for me that day and never got a chance to tell him properly. Still, I'm not surprised at what happened to
him. It's the noble ones that always
come to nasty ends."
"You piece of dung," Sirius
said, rage filling him at this Slytherin snake mocking James' sacrifice. The big fellow started towards him, but
Deveraux waved him away. Sirius didn't
care either way. "James Potter was the very best of us. And if you dare to speak of him with
disrespect again, I will kill you now no matter what the cost!"
Deveraux's response, when it
came, was puzzling. He seemed to smile
with secret satisfaction, as though some unknown goal had been reached. "I expected no less from you, Sirius. You always were loyal to the end. That's one reason, among several, that I
knew you never betrayed the Potters."
With that, Deveraux grabbed his
briefcase and stood up, moving away from the booth.
"So now what? Is it back to Azkaban for me?" Sirius asked
bitterly, torn between feeling shock that Deveraux believed in his innocence
and utter frustration that the cast-out mage didn't care. "You going to use me as your ticket back
from the dead? Maybe you'll get the Order of Merlin! Damn you, you self-righteous, vindictive bastard, look at me!"
So Deveraux turned and looked
back at him. "Oh, relax, Sirius, I spent a lot of effort having Lupin's house
watched and waiting for you to get back here.
I'm certainly not going to waste that by turning you over to Corny
Fudge. Little prig'd probably get all
the credit. As usual. Besides, I suppose I owe James Potter a kind
of debt. I certainly wouldn't want to
repay that by letting his best school chum get his soul eaten, you know."
"Y-You're not turning me in?"
Sirius said, astonished hope springing up within him. "You're just going to let
me go?"
"Certainly not. I can't have
you running around loose, either," Deveraux informed him in a seemingly sad
voice. "No, Sirius, I'm afraid there's only one solution to this problem. I'm just going to have to kill you."
He nodded to his people. Sirius tried to dodge, to move, to do
anything, but there was nothing to be done.
There was a sound like a hundred thunderbolts and he felt his body
crushed by a dozen hammerblows. The
impacts pinned him to the booth and then smashed him down into darkness.
"Right then," Deveraux said,
lighting a cigarette and looking at Sirius Black's unmoving form with satisfaction.
"Pack him up and let's go," he
ordered his people. "We've got a
schedule to keep."
