Part Five: Truth and Consequence
Dudley stared in horror at the wand pointed directly at him while Reginald and Milton gaped at the man holding it.
"I'll ask you one more time, Muggle, where is Harry?" Sirius' quiet voice rang ominously in the dusty room. He enunciated each word with a razor like precision and there could be no doubting whom he was talking about. Dudley opened his mouth but no words came out, only a terrified squeak. He swallowed and tried again. "Who . . . who are y . . . y . . . you?" he stuttered, his voice cracking slightly at the end.
Sirius smiled down at the boy, a ghastly smile that promised nasty consequences. "His godfather."
Dudley stared blankly at the strange apparition in his bedroom for a moment, then the identity of his visitor dawned on him with brilliant clarity. His face became a contorted mask of terror and screamed and clawed at the wall behind him, looking for an escape. "IT'S HIM! IT'S HIM! HE'S GOING TO KILL US ALL!" Reginald and Milton tried vainly to grab Dudley's flailing arms and hold him still. Dudley's fat fists slammed into their faces, drawing blood from Milton's nose and landing squarely on Reginald's eye. Both boys yelped in pain and left Dudley to fend for himself.
"Stupify!" The spell echoed in the suddenly still room. Sirius looked at the three motionless bullies and decided that using one against the other would be the only way he could find Harry. He pointed his wand at Reginald. He seemed the most likely to tell him what he wanted to know. "Enervate."
Reginald realized with a start that he was no longer frozen in place. He looked wildly around and saw that his cousin and Dudley remained motionless beside him. He slowly raised fearful eyes at the dark specter before him. "What did you do to them?" he croaked.
"I quieted them down. I shall release them eventually, but not until you tell me where my godson is."
"Henry?" asked Reginald, trying to sound innocent.
"His name is Harry," Sirius ground out through clenched teeth, "and if you don't tell me everything you know immediately, I will leave you in the same state as these other two for the rest of your very short life."
Reginald swallowed. "He's in the park," he whispered, "in the little woods."
"What did you do to him?" Sirius was deadly calm, only his clenched hand on the wand betrayed his desperation.
"I...I didn't do anything! Honest! It was Dudley. Dudley was throwing a knife and he missed and it hit Hen . . . I mean Harry. Dudley was aiming over his head. I'm sure of it. He wouldn't really hurt him, would he? I mean I don't think he would . . . "
"SHUT UP!" The roared command stopped Reginald's rambling. "Dudley threw a knife at Harry?"
Reginald nodded.
"Harry stood still and let Dudley throw a knife at him?"
"Not exactly," Reginald admitted weakly.
"How exactly did it happen, then?" Sirius penetrating gaze pinned the boy to the floor better than any spell could have. Reginald began to sweat and panic filled his eyes.
"Um . . . well . . . uh . . . I . . . I mean we . . . "
Sirius moved the wand forward an inch or two.
"Milton and I were holding his arms so he couldn't move!" Reginald admitted in a rush. "But we didn't know he was going to do it! We only thought he was going to scare him!"
"SILENCE!" Sirius roared. He thought of Harry being held captive while Dudley used him for target practice and his stomach turned. Fighting down the urge to be sick, he took several deep breaths, his eyes never leaving the cowering boy in front of him. "Enervate."
Dudley and Milton jerked abruptly as the spell released them. They took in Reginald's hanging head and Sirius' rage and knew they had been exposed.
Sirius looked directly at Dudley. "Where did you get the knife? From your doting parents?" he sneered.
"It was given to him. By a peddler," Milton offered when Dudley didn't speak.
"A peddler." Sirius wasn't buying it. Peddlers didn't go around giving knives to people, at least he didn't think so. Wizard peddlers didn't, that was certain. He wasn't so sure about Muggle ones.
"Yes. Old Tom. He said his name was Old Tom something." Reginald was trying desperately to gain some favor with this crazed maniac. He would tell him whatever he wanted to know.
"Old Tom?" An unpleasant feeling began to take shape in Sirius' gut.
"Riddle." Sirius turned abruptly to face Dudley, not certain he had heard the small sound escape the boy's lips.
"What did you say?" he demanded.
Dudley's eyes darted around the room. His fear was a living thing but for some reason he couldn't stop himself from speaking. "Riddle. His name was Tom Riddle."
Sirius' heart stopped. His breath congealed in his chest and his head swam. Voldemort had given Dudley a knife to kill Harry. It was as certain as daylight. Dudley, Reginald and Milton noticed the wizard's sudden hesitation and as a whole, tried to move toward the door. Sirius stopped them with a look.
"Since you so enjoy practicing with knives, I shall give you some more to play with. I hope that you will learn a lesson from this but I doubt it." Sirius voice whispered eerily in the boys' ears. At once they were held up, as if by unseen arms, and pinned against the wall. From nowhere came a whizzing sound and daggers of all shapes and sizes loomed out of the dust toward them. They struggled frantically as the sharp blades came closer but the invisible bonds were unmoveable. One by one the knives slammed into the wall, catching pieces of the boys' clothing until they were tacked up like posters.
Sirius took in the three helpless forms and nodded with satisfaction. Then he approached Dudley and leaned into this face. "I will be back for you, have no doubt." He then turned to the other two. "If Harry isn't where you said he was, if he's not alive when I find him, I will return for you as well." And with that he turned and was gone, leaving only the settling dust and the smell of Dudley's soiled pants.
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Harry stared at Glynnis. "How do you know my name?" he asked incredulously. Glynnis laughed. "It's a small world, Harry. Have you ever heard that?" Harry nodded. "Well," she continued, "I know a friend of yours. Quite well, actually."
"A friend of mine? But I don't have any Muggle friends."
"A school friend," Glynnis said meaningfully.
Harry's mouth hung open. "You know about Hogwarts?"
She nodded. "Yes. I know quite a lot about it actually. I know that you won the Triwizard Tournament. I know that Ron Weasley is one of your best friends. And I know that you excel in Quidditch. I also know that you hate a certain potions professor and your godfather is a dog."
"He isn't a dog. He can turn into a dog," Harry replied dully. "But how do you know all this? Do you know the Weasleys?"
"No, not the Weasleys. Someone else. Someone who fights for the underdog. Or should I say underelf? Or underhippogriff? Does this sound like anyone you know?" Glynnis beamed as she saw understanding dawn in his eyes.
"You know Hermione," he stated.
"Yes! Not only do I know her, I'm her aunt, and, unfortunately, she gets her teeth from my side of the family."
"You're Aunt Lynn!" Harry said wondrously. "Hermione's talked about you."
"Nothing good, I hope," Glynnis laughed.
"Then you know about wizards."
"Yes." Her smile vanished. "And I know that this thing," she pointed to the dragon's head which was eyeing her warily and shuddered, "is way beyond my understanding. Harry, I need to get help. Where should I go? Whom can I call?"
Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. "There's no one," he said sadly. "I don't know where Hedwig is. She's my owl. She could take a message to the Weasleys or to Professor Dumbledore. I thought about going to Diagon Alley but . . . " Glynnis interrupted him. "Diagon Alley? Isn't that the wizard street?"
Harry nodded.
"Could I go there for you? I could bring back help."
"I wish you could," Harry sighed. "But you won't find it. Only wizarding folk can see the Black Cauldron, that's the entrance from the street. And I don't think I could make it myself. Glynnis, I feel very weak. Have I lost that much blood?" Harry's anxious eyes glittered with tears of pain and frustration. Glynnis' brow furrowed with concern and her tone became professional.
"You have lost some blood, but not that much, really. Tell me about the pain Harry. Is it sharp, dull?"
Harry centered his thoughts deep in his shoulder. "It's a pulsing pain."
"Pulsing. Like with your heartbeat?"
"No. Like the blade is pulsing, like it's alive." Harry looked away. "I think its Voldemort's doing." At the very mention of the dark wizard's name, another stab of white-hot agony shot through Harry's body. He cried out, his good hand reaching unconsciously for Glynnis. She grabbed onto him and he clutched at her. Blackness dimmed the edges of Harry's sight and cruel laughter echoed through his head. The scar on his forehead began to pulse in time with the blade, sending waves of misery through his head. He heard someone yell and then the blackness took over.
Glynnis felt Harry's hand go slack in hers and she laid shaking fingers against his neck, sighing with relief at the steady pulse she found. She put her head in her hands and leaned back, the sound of Harry's shout ringing in her ears. "He's laughing. I can hear him." She didn't need to ask who 'he' was. She heard enough stories about "he-who-must-not-be-named" from Hermione to know. Harry's parents dead, Harry's life threatened time and time again, Harry bringing back his friend's lifeless body, Harry lying dead here on the ground with her sitting by helplessly. These images came unbidden to Glynnis' mind, as clear and focused as if she'd witnessed them herself. "Glynnie, you've always had too active an imagination," she chided sternly as she mentally shook herself. A slight moan was all she needed to snap herself entirely back to the present. She laid a hand gently on Harry's cheek, calling his name softly as his eyelids fluttered open.
He looked up at Glynnis' pale, anxious face and tried to smile reassuringly. "Oh, that hurt. Remind me not to say his name again, alright?" Harry's at a light tone brought a faint answering smile to Glynnis lips. "That would probably be best," she agreed with a nod. Harry sighed and tried to shift slightly in an endeavor to relieve some of the ache that was settling into the rest of his body. He winced as Glynnis, knowing he must be getting uncomfortable, eased her arms under him and helped him move a little. When she'd settled him into a better position, Glynnis' eyes settled on his and her face took on a serious look.
"Harry, I want to try and get your shirt open. I think you are bleeding again but I want to see for certain. If there's enough blade showing, I might be able to pack some bandages around it, without touching the hilt. Do you think you could manage if I ripped your shirt a little, near the knife?" Harry wanted to tell her no, but his hand squeezed hers gently. Glynnis smiled reassuringly and released Harry's hand. In all the years she'd been a nurse, nothing had fazed her. She had watched people die, watched people in pain, watched all kinds of surgeries done to all kinds of people and nothing, nothing had affected her like this. Was it because this boy was a friend of her dear Hermione? Was it because she knew his past, knew how awful his life had been? Or was it because this wizard made knife scared her to death? Glynnis wasn't sure. All she did know was that Harry had, in the last few minutes, touched a part of her she thought long buried. She was certain their destinies were linked somehow. And she couldn't let him die. She took a deep breath to steady her shaking hands and reached out toward Harry.
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Sirius cursed inwardly as he ran in the direction of the park, his black shaggy form generally ignored by the people he passed. He wished he'd had the courage to kill Dudley back at the house, but he had resigned himself years ago to the fact that he wasn't a murderer at heart. He hated himself for allowing Dumbledore to talk him into sending Harry back to these Muggles. He should have demanded that he stay with the Weasleys or himself, or even at Hogwarts for that matter. All of them should have realized that Voldemort at full power was strong enough to find Harry anywhere, even on quiet Privet Drive.
Not for the first time in his life was he grateful he was animagi, and his form a dog. The powerful nose of his current shape allowed him to track Harry with very little difficulty. Unfortunately, as he got closer to the park, his nose picked up the unmistakable smell of blood. Harry's blood. He stopped momentarily and honed in on the scent, then bounded off at tremendous speed toward a small copse of trees. Sirius slowed when he reached the perimeter of the small wood and crept forward on silent paws toward the place he knew Harry to be. Someone else was here.
He came through the trees and saw a young woman kneeling over Harry. Fear burned through Sirius like lightening when he saw her hands working near the knife. He leapt forward in a surge of power and bowled the woman over. They tumbled together for a few yards and stopped when her head loudly connected with a tree. She lay unmoving beneath him and as he stood over her, growling, he heard Harry yelling.
