Part Three: Black's Return
Sirius Black smiled broadly as he apparated into Harry's room. "Surprise!" he said happily. It took him a moment of looking about to realize that Harry was not surprised because Harry was not there. "Where is he?" Sirius asked Hedwig, who'd just returned as well. Hedwig only hooted and retreated to her cage for a nap.
Sirius watched the owl stretch her wings and settle comfortably into sleep and then he, too, yawned and stretched. The past few weeks had been tiring, both physically and mentally. He'd tracked down numerous friends who'd been more than willing to contact Albus Dumbledore and discuss strategies on how best to deal with Voldemort's return. He'd also found many wizards who were either unwilling to believe that Voldemort had actually returned or who'd been too frightened to even consider fighting against him. All in all, he'd traveled hundreds of miles in a very few days and was totally done in. "You've got the right idea, old girl," he muttered to Hedwig as he surveyed Harry's bed. He sat down on the edge and fell backwards, sighing at the feel of a soft mattress under his aching back.
Sirius had received Harry's letter a few days ago and decided that, rather than send a reply by owl, he would take some time to see his godson. He could tell that Harry was unhappy. Not that Harry had said so directly. It was just that over the past year he had learned that he could tell more about what was going on in Harry's life by what Harry didn't tell him. And unless he was mistaken, and he doubted he was, Harry wasn't as okay with what had happened to him during the tournament as he let on. "Who would be?" Sirius thought. "Knowing that you had been set up for failure, watching helplessly as a schoolmate was tortured and killed, seeing your parents emerge from the wand that murdered them." He sighed and closed his eyes. Everyone thought Harry was so strong. And he was, but he was still a fourteen-year-old boy. A boy who had been through some remarkable things in his life "and had lived to be haunted by them," Sirius thought morosely. He yawned again and let his head sink deeper into the pillow. He'd set a locking spell on the door when he first realized Harry wasn't there and now no one but Harry would be able to open it. This done, he felt comfortable enough to catch up on some much needed rest. "I hope Harry doesn't come home too soon," he admitted ruefully to himself. Then he chuckled. "I wonder what that Muggle woman would do if she only knew that Harry Potter's criminal godfather was sleeping right above her head." He let pleasant images of Aunt Petunia's reaction drift behind his closed eyes and quickly fell asleep.
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Harry watched as Dudley drew back his arm and threw. In his eyes, the whole thing happened very slowly. The blade arced up, turning end over end, flashing brightly. The dragon's emerald eyes glinted in the sun that filtered through the trees. Harry imagined he could hear the whine of the razor sharp edge as it cut the air in front of him. He could hear his heart racing and the excited breathing of Reginald and Milton as they followed the knife's trail. Harry watched in fascinated horror as the blade came closer. He realized with a rush of relief that knife's path would take it into the tree well above his head and he released the breath he'd been holding and closed his eyes. It was with some amazement that Harry felt something slam into his body. He opened his eyes and looked down with dawning horror at the dragon hilt protruding from his right shoulder, just under his collarbone. Bright red blood oozed onto his shirt. He stared, mesmerized, at the growing stain until Reginald's strangled scream brought him back to reality.
"Du . . . Dud . . . What did you do!? I thought you were aiming over his head! I thought you were only going to scare him!" Reginald's hysterical rantings were an eloquent counterpoint to Milton's grunts of incredulous terror as he pointed at Harry's shoulder.
Dudley could only stare as if he didn't quite believe what he was seeing. He looked at his hand and back to Harry several times with his mouth moving but no sound coming out. "I didn't . . . I mean I wasn't . . . It wasn't . . . " Dudley managed to croak after a moment. His beady eyes grew wide as he continued to stare until Harry wondered dully if they were going to pop out of his head.
"What are we going to do?" whispered Reginald hoarsely. He looked around to see if they had been observed. He and Milton looked desperately at one another, and then, as if by silent assent, they dropped Harry's arms and broke into a panicked run. Dudley watched them leave and then, without a backward glance, he followed them, leaving Harry utterly alone.
Harry stared after them, his arms tingling from the sudden release of pressure. He looked down at his shoulder again, still not sure he wasn't just dreaming this. He raised his left hand and gingerly touched his fingers to his blood-soaked shirt. "This isn't real," he thought, "this can't be happening." Harry's knees felt weak and he slid down the tree and landed with a jarring thud on the ground. Sensation ripped through his shoulder and he gasped at the intensity. He looked down at the protruding dragon hilt and blinked in surprise. The dragon was looking at him. Harry blinked again but the emerald eyes never wavered from Harry's face. Harry slowly moved his hand up toward the dragon's head. He flexed his fingers and grabbed the hilt, determined to pull the blade out. He cried out in alarm and pain as the dragon's sharp teeth dug into his hand. He yanked his hand away and stared at the jagged wound between his thumb and finger. He looked again at the dragon and it bared its teeth in challenge. It was then that Harry realized that this was not any ordinary dagger. It was wizard made. And there was only one person he could think of who would go to such trouble.
"Voldemort." The name escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it. And as if it had been waiting for Harry to utter that very word, the dragon snarled and the blade became a piercing shaft of white-hot agony. Through the pain that seemed to tear him apart, Harry heard someone screaming, and then there was only blackness.
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Sirius Black awoke with a start. The same sharp instincts that had kept him alive since his escape from Azkaban warned him that danger was near. Several sets of feet were running up the stairs. He sat up and reached for his wand. Then he heard the door to the next room open. There was a shuffling of feet and the door closed with a bang. Sirius forced himself to relax and tuned his ears to the sounds around him. He picked up a furtive whispering coming from the next room but couldn't make out what was being said. "Vox amplificatus," he whispered as he pointed his wand at the wall.
"Dudley, what in hell were you thinking! We are going to be in so much trouble. I mean my mum, my dad, for God's sake, they'll kill me when they find out!"
Sirius listened curiously. "So, the wonderful Dudley has really gotten himself into something this time," he thought gleefully.
"I should've known you really didn't know what you were doing! Come on Reggie, let's get out of here before his parents find out, else they'll blame us."
"Milton, we can't. I mean we have to go back and help him!"
"NO!" Sirius jumped as the amplified voice resounded in the room. "I won't go back! I won't! Suppose the police are there. Suppose he's told them. I have to stay here and so do you. You have to say we've been here all afternoon . . . that it couldn't have been us!"
"Who'd believe us?" Sirius recognized Milton's voice.
"Who wouldn't? I mean it's his word against ours and no one will listen to him! He's always been strange and I know my mum and dad hate him. They'd never believe anything he said. He's done awful stuff to us anyway, and they'd say he deserved it." Something about the way Dudley said this brought Sirius surging to his feet. The hairs on the back of his neck tightened and he leaned forward, willing the boys to say more. There was silence in the next room and all the amplification spell picked up was the three boys' ragged breathing.
"Are you sure?" Milton asked.
"Oh, yes. Quite sure. If we just stick together and get our story straight no one will ever know."
Dudley sounded quite convinced and Sirius could almost hear the other two boys thinking it over.
"I don't know, "Reginald chimed in, "we really should go back. I mean you stabbed him, Dudley. He could die! We ought to at least call someone and tell them where he is." Sirius' blood froze. Dudley laughed, a cold laugh that was hard and bitter. "Him die?" Dudley snorted. "He can't die. Didn't I ever tell you? He's a wizard."
Sirius felt the blood drain from his face and he sat down hard on the bed. "Harry's been stabbed. Harry's been stabbed," repeated like a litany through his head. He couldn't think. He couldn't move. He could only picture Harry, who had been through so much, lying in his own blood somewhere with Sirius helpless to find him. Suddenly Sirius was filled with a rage borne of his own helplessness. Everything he'd done wrong screamed at him at once; his mistake that led to Lily and James's murder, his not fighting to get custody of Harry when it happened, his absence when Harry faced Voldemort his first year at Hogwarts and again this year, his failure to be around when Harry needed him most. Sirius raised his wand and let all the anger and frustration boil out of him in one loud cry. The wall between Harry's room and Dudley's disintegrated in a shower of plaster. Dudley, Reginald and Milton all yelled in terror and ran, cowering, to the opposite side of the room, trying to put as much distance between them and the falling debris as possible. They stared in stunned fascination at the billowing dust that had once been Dudley's wall. It was Reginald who first raised a shaking finger at the diminishing cloud. "What's . . . that?" he croaked, his eyes wide with terror. Milton and Dudley slowly turned to look and saw a tall, cloaked figure approaching through the jagged opening. Their mouths gaped open as the strange man came closer. His long, matted hair and wild eyes gave him a fiendish quality in the dust filtered light. It only when he stood before them that they noticed the long, slim wand he held in his hand. Dudley cried out in fright and tried to press himself behind his friends. The nightmare looked directly at him and spoke. "Where is Harry?"
