The Greater Good
by Kiana
Look at the first part if you wanna read the summery . . .
Sorry this took a bit to upload, but I've been buisy with the normal teenage life- school, homework, Karate, home life, helping my mom move into a new place, saveing the world from the Keebler Elves . . . you understand.
Thank you for reviewing the first chapter and prompting me forward -------- !
Dis not mine. Nope, nope, nope. J K Rowling owns Harry and his world. I haven't the faintest who owns the Keebler Elves, maybe some guy named Keebler? If anyone owns Isis, it's the Ancient Egyptians. All I have is Sonna Ibse, Serita Maelani, many random idiots, Gwynnadale, the Shieena, two cats, a snake, a brother . . .
Part II
A Message from Gwynnadale- continued
"Borne of fire, Carved from stone
Made of ice, Shaped by bone."
The dance of the flickering fire seemed to work in time with the chant, leaping and cracking, sending out glowing sparks to emphisize the drummer's beat.
"Willow break, Ash will burn
Waters flood from ancient urn."
The pounding footsteps from above ground faded slightly; the dancers were slowing. Inside the barred pit a pair of human eyes flicked briefly about the cage, taking in the many tonnes of packed dirt and rock, and, in the centre of the floor, a grate that covered some unfathomal well of darkness.
"Waii kalita si sirra ti tunista!" one of the Shieen cried- and the sounds from above abruptly vanished. They were gone.
A roar echoed from within the depths of the well, deep-sounding and ominous. Something was comming.
"Stay away from the grate," the murderer whispered.
"Shut up." But she moved back anyway, always staying on the opposite side of their prison from him.
* * *
"Sirius. . . ."
"They're fine, Harry. But if there's a next time, they won't be." They walked in silence for a while, heading down a side street leading off of Privit Drive. Under the flickering street lights, Harry felt strange walking along next to Black, as if the man was somehow part of a dream, and would fade away just as quickly.
He felt comfortable in both the Wizard world and the Muggle world, but it seemed odd to have a part of one world meld into the next. When he pictured his godfather, the image did not include the distant roar of street cars, and warm yellow lamps hanging overhead.
Harry's stomache growled suddenly, and he realized with a jolt that he hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday.
Sirius glanced down at him. "You too? . . .There's a place not too far away that I know of, care to give it a try?"
"Sure!"
Black switched directions, leading Harry down one alley and up another, weaving his way through the dimly lit streets with an ease and knowledge born obviously from experience.
Surprised, Harry asked, "Have you been here before?"
"Yes," his godfather replied, "I got to know the . . . less public places of your village while I was trying to figure out how to go on about contacting you. I had no idea your aunt and uncle. . . ."
"Oh." Harry said. No wonder Sirius had taken a while. But then again, what did he expect- Black to come bursting in the door, wand blazing, attracting loads of attention from Muggles and wizards alike?
"Sirius, where did you get a wand, anyway?"
"I didn't," the man replied, and the light of the crescent moon illuminated the quirky grin on his face, "I imagined, though, that one would probably be quite useful. . . ."
He handed it to Harry, who, to his surprise, dicovered that the 'wand' was in fact just a long, slender, fairly strait twig.
"Actually," Sirius admitted, "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't insisted on leaving them be. Spiders, heh."
Harry grinned back- then frowned. "Sirius . . . I forgot all my stuff at the Dursley's. What am I going to do when school starts again?"
"Well," Black said after a long pause, "well, I suppose we'll just have to go back and get it."
"Then I'm staying with you?" Harry looked hopefully up at his godfather.
But Sirius shook his head. "Harry, I'm on the run from the Ministry. I'm living as I can get by; dodging every thinking being from houselves on up. I don't think you should stay with me longer than absolutely necessary. If someone should see you in the company of an infamous convict. . . ."
"I don't care," Harry said stiffly.
Silence returned for the remainder of their walk, leaving Harry to the quiet of his thoughts
Sometime later, he found himself outside a small diner with the name "Gwynnadale's" written across the top of the door frame in peeling white letters. Sirius ran a hand through his matted hair, attempting to straiten it, and brushed a bit at his robes.
Harry stared at him in blatant disbelief. "You're going in as- ?"
"As myself? Yes. I had the misfourtune of being hit accidentally by an Anti-Transfiguration charm near Cambridge. I'm lucky to have made it here."
"But you can't- " Harry motioned to the diner.
"Trust me- I have no intention of getting myself killed." Sirius waited while Harry flattened his hair over his scar, then the two of them pushed through the old door and into the diner.
Chapter III:
Capture
Immidiatly, Harry realized why his godfather wasn't worried about being spotted. Ragged, too worn robes and long coats seemed to be the trend here, as if Gwynnadale's were the waystation for the homeless, and escaped convicts. Sirius fit right in.
"Oy, Vladimir!" someone called out. Harry felt himself colour a bit in the cheeks- they were probably talking about what a kid with taped glasses, wild hair, and a faded robe, was doing in a place that could have passed for a pub.
To his surprise, Sirius jerked his head up, looking for the source of the voice. A corner of his godfather's mouth twitched upright in an attempted smile, and Harry, feeling lost, followed him to a corner of the room.
"Nathanial," Sirius greeted the man. "My nephew, Ronald." He jerked his head to indicate Harry.
Nathanial glanced at him, then turned again to Sirius. "Vladimir, where've 'ou been up to? I was startin' ta think you'd dodged out."
"Ny, it's against my principles to betray friends." He had adopted an accent that Harry wansn't framiliar with- something not quite Brittish, but not quite forgin.
The other man let out a loud, boisterous laugh, and clapped Sirius roughly on the shoulder. "Aha! A man of principle! Tess- " a waitress looked up "-bring something for my friend, on me. And f'r 'is nevew, too."
Harry gave a wan smile of thanks, and figited in his chair. He had only felt this out-of-place once before: when he was the fourth, and youngest, champion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year. It was not a welcome feeling, especiallly since Harry was still worried that he and Sirius would be discovered.
A plate of kippers, chips, and roast chicken suddenly appered in front of him, taking Harry's mind away from his line of thought. He had never smelled anything so wonderful, and had to swallow several times before reaching for his fork.
"So wha's sa kid's story, anyways?" Nathanial asked.
Sirius forced what seemed to Harry as a painful laugh. "Terrible troublemaker- always getting into a spot at the orphanage. I of course wanted to take him, but the headmistress wouldn't allow it. 'Wouldn't be good f'r him,' she said. Appearently, Ron got all bent 'round about somethin', and ran off. He found me, and I've been taking care of him since."
"Ah." The man looked like he was going to say more on the subject, but didn't. "He in?"
In what? Harry wondered, as both men turned to look at him.
"No." Sirius looked quite decided on that, and said firmly, mostly to Harry, "No, he's going to stay with his friends for the remainder of the summer."
"Yes I am," Harry agreed, grabbing hold of his godfather's stained sleeve. Sirius gave him a hard look, which Harry returned stubbornly.
"No, he is too young; it is too dangerous." Black said, while looking at Nathanial.
"I want to help fight Voldemort." Harry insisted, because he was sure that was what this was about.
"I'm not just going to sit around and watch," he said, meeting his godfather's light eyes determitly. "I may be a kid, but that doesn't mean I'm helpless, or stupid. You heard what Dumbledore said- I've had a grown wizard's burden thrown upon my back; I can handle myself fine, thanks. Look at what's happened to me at Hogwarts! And last year- look at what happened then!"
Nathanial stared at Harry as though he'd gone mad. Then, slowly, his eyes flicked up to trace the framiliar lightning-shaped scar, half-hidden by the boy's hair.
"Bloody hell . . ." he murmured, "Is this . . . it CAN'T be . . . Harry Potter?"
"I wish," Harry snorted, mentally cursing himself for his stupidity. "Harry Potter doesn't have an uncle, does he? I thought he lived with some Muggles."
"No . . ." Nathanial was still openly staring at him. "No, he doesn't have a wizard uncle, but. . ." He turned to look sharply at Sirius. Harry felt his stomach turn to water.
"Where'd you get . . . him?" he asked.
"Rescued him," Sirius said, accidentally letting his accent slip back to his normal, slightly Scottish dialect. "From the Muggles. I'm taking him to live with some friends of his."
"How'd you meet him?"
"In Hogsmeade. Near his school."
"Who are you?"
"What?" Sirius' face took on a surprised, insulted look. "Vladimir Thomas, you met me three nights ago!"
"What happened to yer accent?" Nathanial looked suspiciously at him.
"It vanished into the Fourth Dimintion, along with all my socks." Harry noticed with a jolt that his godfather was barefoot.
"What?" Nathanial looked blank.
"Muggle thing . . ." Sirius sighed, looking very weary.
"Are you . . . I thought-" Harry looked at him.
"What? Oh. I'm half-blood. Muggle father. Plus one of my best friends was Muggle born." He rested his head against a hand, staring distractedly into the dirty, soot-choaked fireplace.
On impulse, Harry shifted his weight, leaning up against his godfather. It was a very child-like act, and he imidiatly felt foolish for it. Harry straitned, and found Nathanial staring at him again.
"Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived," he said, in either real or mock reverency- Harry couldn't tell. "Never thought I'd be meeting you. Nathanial Wesson, drunken, soon-to-be-rich thief at yer service." He made a lavish, sweeping gesture with his hands, then turned to face Sirius.
"And, surprise, surprise, Vladimir Thomas, poor acter and powerfully dark wizard. 'N't that right, Black?"
Sirius jumped, sending his cup spilling across the wooden table. The liquid soaked into the cracked surface, spreading almost to toutch the handle of the wand Nathanial held pointed toward the fugitive's chest.
"I may not have murdered thirting people, Black, but make no mistake- if either you, or whoever this kid is moves, I will kill you. Understand?"
Slowly, Sirius nodded.
"You can't, he's inno- " Harry's protest was cut short by the insertion of another wand undernieth his jaw- also held by Nathanial.
"Told you I was a thief, didn't I, boy," the man said, in a tone a parent might use whilst correcting a misbehaving youngster. "As soon as you sat down I took the precaution that you might object to this arrest."
Harry stared at the weapon. He didn't have his wand with him, so if the Nathanial . . .
Sirius must have reached the same conclusion about the second wand; his hand snapped forward, striking the other's face, then snatched the wand- like twig still pointed at him out of the man's grasp.
Nathanial cupped his hands about his broken nose, using his weathered thumbs to wipe the tears and blood away from his eyes. Then with a yell he threw himself at Sirius, catching the man on the side of his jaw. The stick flew out of his hands, skittering harmlessly (yah think?)across the floor.
He landed another punch against the convict's ribs- Sirius stumbled and slammed his back against a nearby table, landing on it hard as the legs gave way.
The few other occupants of the diner scattered away from the fight; Harry picked up someone's half-empty goblet and brought it down hard on Nathanial's head- to his dissapointment the man failed to lose consiousness. Instead, he grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt and tossed him away like a stuffed toy.
Harry scrambled to his feet in time to see both his godfather and Nathanial yanked apart by several people dressed in uniform green robes- Hit Wizards.
"Stop it! Stop it! Break it up, you two!" The woman planted an arm across Sirius' chest to keep him from going after Nathanial again- which was just fine for Sirius. What little colour he had gained back from Azkaban had already left him as he spun around, attempting to make the exit.
"Hold it right there!" A wizard stopped him, grabbing him by his long- since-ruined tunic. "You an' this bloke here are gonna shake hands, got it? And- HOLY SHIT!!"
"Well- it's a shirt actually, but, yes, I s'pose it does look like shit." Sirius broke into a cold sweat, knowing very well that the man wasn't talking about his tunic.
"He- he- he's SIRIUS BLOODY BLACK!! Oomph-!" Harry had tackled the wizard, knocking him to the ground.
A second Hit Wizard grabbed him around the waist, yanking Harry upright.
"STUPIFY!"
A/N: Sorry that's all, but my brother wants to use the computer RIGHT NOW. I promise to get another chapter uploaded within the week. I really LOATHE cliff-hangers, so don't expect me to use many (if at all) more. This just seemed like a (Yes, Nick, just a minute!) good place to stop, as Harry gets knocked out. And about the first part- you'll see.
By the way, you'll see why it was called a 'message from Gwynnadale', too, in the next part.
by Kiana
Look at the first part if you wanna read the summery . . .
Sorry this took a bit to upload, but I've been buisy with the normal teenage life- school, homework, Karate, home life, helping my mom move into a new place, saveing the world from the Keebler Elves . . . you understand.
Thank you for reviewing the first chapter and prompting me forward -------- !
Dis not mine. Nope, nope, nope. J K Rowling owns Harry and his world. I haven't the faintest who owns the Keebler Elves, maybe some guy named Keebler? If anyone owns Isis, it's the Ancient Egyptians. All I have is Sonna Ibse, Serita Maelani, many random idiots, Gwynnadale, the Shieena, two cats, a snake, a brother . . .
Part II
A Message from Gwynnadale- continued
"Borne of fire, Carved from stone
Made of ice, Shaped by bone."
The dance of the flickering fire seemed to work in time with the chant, leaping and cracking, sending out glowing sparks to emphisize the drummer's beat.
"Willow break, Ash will burn
Waters flood from ancient urn."
The pounding footsteps from above ground faded slightly; the dancers were slowing. Inside the barred pit a pair of human eyes flicked briefly about the cage, taking in the many tonnes of packed dirt and rock, and, in the centre of the floor, a grate that covered some unfathomal well of darkness.
"Waii kalita si sirra ti tunista!" one of the Shieen cried- and the sounds from above abruptly vanished. They were gone.
A roar echoed from within the depths of the well, deep-sounding and ominous. Something was comming.
"Stay away from the grate," the murderer whispered.
"Shut up." But she moved back anyway, always staying on the opposite side of their prison from him.
* * *
"Sirius. . . ."
"They're fine, Harry. But if there's a next time, they won't be." They walked in silence for a while, heading down a side street leading off of Privit Drive. Under the flickering street lights, Harry felt strange walking along next to Black, as if the man was somehow part of a dream, and would fade away just as quickly.
He felt comfortable in both the Wizard world and the Muggle world, but it seemed odd to have a part of one world meld into the next. When he pictured his godfather, the image did not include the distant roar of street cars, and warm yellow lamps hanging overhead.
Harry's stomache growled suddenly, and he realized with a jolt that he hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday.
Sirius glanced down at him. "You too? . . .There's a place not too far away that I know of, care to give it a try?"
"Sure!"
Black switched directions, leading Harry down one alley and up another, weaving his way through the dimly lit streets with an ease and knowledge born obviously from experience.
Surprised, Harry asked, "Have you been here before?"
"Yes," his godfather replied, "I got to know the . . . less public places of your village while I was trying to figure out how to go on about contacting you. I had no idea your aunt and uncle. . . ."
"Oh." Harry said. No wonder Sirius had taken a while. But then again, what did he expect- Black to come bursting in the door, wand blazing, attracting loads of attention from Muggles and wizards alike?
"Sirius, where did you get a wand, anyway?"
"I didn't," the man replied, and the light of the crescent moon illuminated the quirky grin on his face, "I imagined, though, that one would probably be quite useful. . . ."
He handed it to Harry, who, to his surprise, dicovered that the 'wand' was in fact just a long, slender, fairly strait twig.
"Actually," Sirius admitted, "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't insisted on leaving them be. Spiders, heh."
Harry grinned back- then frowned. "Sirius . . . I forgot all my stuff at the Dursley's. What am I going to do when school starts again?"
"Well," Black said after a long pause, "well, I suppose we'll just have to go back and get it."
"Then I'm staying with you?" Harry looked hopefully up at his godfather.
But Sirius shook his head. "Harry, I'm on the run from the Ministry. I'm living as I can get by; dodging every thinking being from houselves on up. I don't think you should stay with me longer than absolutely necessary. If someone should see you in the company of an infamous convict. . . ."
"I don't care," Harry said stiffly.
Silence returned for the remainder of their walk, leaving Harry to the quiet of his thoughts
Sometime later, he found himself outside a small diner with the name "Gwynnadale's" written across the top of the door frame in peeling white letters. Sirius ran a hand through his matted hair, attempting to straiten it, and brushed a bit at his robes.
Harry stared at him in blatant disbelief. "You're going in as- ?"
"As myself? Yes. I had the misfourtune of being hit accidentally by an Anti-Transfiguration charm near Cambridge. I'm lucky to have made it here."
"But you can't- " Harry motioned to the diner.
"Trust me- I have no intention of getting myself killed." Sirius waited while Harry flattened his hair over his scar, then the two of them pushed through the old door and into the diner.
Chapter III:
Capture
Immidiatly, Harry realized why his godfather wasn't worried about being spotted. Ragged, too worn robes and long coats seemed to be the trend here, as if Gwynnadale's were the waystation for the homeless, and escaped convicts. Sirius fit right in.
"Oy, Vladimir!" someone called out. Harry felt himself colour a bit in the cheeks- they were probably talking about what a kid with taped glasses, wild hair, and a faded robe, was doing in a place that could have passed for a pub.
To his surprise, Sirius jerked his head up, looking for the source of the voice. A corner of his godfather's mouth twitched upright in an attempted smile, and Harry, feeling lost, followed him to a corner of the room.
"Nathanial," Sirius greeted the man. "My nephew, Ronald." He jerked his head to indicate Harry.
Nathanial glanced at him, then turned again to Sirius. "Vladimir, where've 'ou been up to? I was startin' ta think you'd dodged out."
"Ny, it's against my principles to betray friends." He had adopted an accent that Harry wansn't framiliar with- something not quite Brittish, but not quite forgin.
The other man let out a loud, boisterous laugh, and clapped Sirius roughly on the shoulder. "Aha! A man of principle! Tess- " a waitress looked up "-bring something for my friend, on me. And f'r 'is nevew, too."
Harry gave a wan smile of thanks, and figited in his chair. He had only felt this out-of-place once before: when he was the fourth, and youngest, champion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year. It was not a welcome feeling, especiallly since Harry was still worried that he and Sirius would be discovered.
A plate of kippers, chips, and roast chicken suddenly appered in front of him, taking Harry's mind away from his line of thought. He had never smelled anything so wonderful, and had to swallow several times before reaching for his fork.
"So wha's sa kid's story, anyways?" Nathanial asked.
Sirius forced what seemed to Harry as a painful laugh. "Terrible troublemaker- always getting into a spot at the orphanage. I of course wanted to take him, but the headmistress wouldn't allow it. 'Wouldn't be good f'r him,' she said. Appearently, Ron got all bent 'round about somethin', and ran off. He found me, and I've been taking care of him since."
"Ah." The man looked like he was going to say more on the subject, but didn't. "He in?"
In what? Harry wondered, as both men turned to look at him.
"No." Sirius looked quite decided on that, and said firmly, mostly to Harry, "No, he's going to stay with his friends for the remainder of the summer."
"Yes I am," Harry agreed, grabbing hold of his godfather's stained sleeve. Sirius gave him a hard look, which Harry returned stubbornly.
"No, he is too young; it is too dangerous." Black said, while looking at Nathanial.
"I want to help fight Voldemort." Harry insisted, because he was sure that was what this was about.
"I'm not just going to sit around and watch," he said, meeting his godfather's light eyes determitly. "I may be a kid, but that doesn't mean I'm helpless, or stupid. You heard what Dumbledore said- I've had a grown wizard's burden thrown upon my back; I can handle myself fine, thanks. Look at what's happened to me at Hogwarts! And last year- look at what happened then!"
Nathanial stared at Harry as though he'd gone mad. Then, slowly, his eyes flicked up to trace the framiliar lightning-shaped scar, half-hidden by the boy's hair.
"Bloody hell . . ." he murmured, "Is this . . . it CAN'T be . . . Harry Potter?"
"I wish," Harry snorted, mentally cursing himself for his stupidity. "Harry Potter doesn't have an uncle, does he? I thought he lived with some Muggles."
"No . . ." Nathanial was still openly staring at him. "No, he doesn't have a wizard uncle, but. . ." He turned to look sharply at Sirius. Harry felt his stomach turn to water.
"Where'd you get . . . him?" he asked.
"Rescued him," Sirius said, accidentally letting his accent slip back to his normal, slightly Scottish dialect. "From the Muggles. I'm taking him to live with some friends of his."
"How'd you meet him?"
"In Hogsmeade. Near his school."
"Who are you?"
"What?" Sirius' face took on a surprised, insulted look. "Vladimir Thomas, you met me three nights ago!"
"What happened to yer accent?" Nathanial looked suspiciously at him.
"It vanished into the Fourth Dimintion, along with all my socks." Harry noticed with a jolt that his godfather was barefoot.
"What?" Nathanial looked blank.
"Muggle thing . . ." Sirius sighed, looking very weary.
"Are you . . . I thought-" Harry looked at him.
"What? Oh. I'm half-blood. Muggle father. Plus one of my best friends was Muggle born." He rested his head against a hand, staring distractedly into the dirty, soot-choaked fireplace.
On impulse, Harry shifted his weight, leaning up against his godfather. It was a very child-like act, and he imidiatly felt foolish for it. Harry straitned, and found Nathanial staring at him again.
"Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived," he said, in either real or mock reverency- Harry couldn't tell. "Never thought I'd be meeting you. Nathanial Wesson, drunken, soon-to-be-rich thief at yer service." He made a lavish, sweeping gesture with his hands, then turned to face Sirius.
"And, surprise, surprise, Vladimir Thomas, poor acter and powerfully dark wizard. 'N't that right, Black?"
Sirius jumped, sending his cup spilling across the wooden table. The liquid soaked into the cracked surface, spreading almost to toutch the handle of the wand Nathanial held pointed toward the fugitive's chest.
"I may not have murdered thirting people, Black, but make no mistake- if either you, or whoever this kid is moves, I will kill you. Understand?"
Slowly, Sirius nodded.
"You can't, he's inno- " Harry's protest was cut short by the insertion of another wand undernieth his jaw- also held by Nathanial.
"Told you I was a thief, didn't I, boy," the man said, in a tone a parent might use whilst correcting a misbehaving youngster. "As soon as you sat down I took the precaution that you might object to this arrest."
Harry stared at the weapon. He didn't have his wand with him, so if the Nathanial . . .
Sirius must have reached the same conclusion about the second wand; his hand snapped forward, striking the other's face, then snatched the wand- like twig still pointed at him out of the man's grasp.
Nathanial cupped his hands about his broken nose, using his weathered thumbs to wipe the tears and blood away from his eyes. Then with a yell he threw himself at Sirius, catching the man on the side of his jaw. The stick flew out of his hands, skittering harmlessly (yah think?)across the floor.
He landed another punch against the convict's ribs- Sirius stumbled and slammed his back against a nearby table, landing on it hard as the legs gave way.
The few other occupants of the diner scattered away from the fight; Harry picked up someone's half-empty goblet and brought it down hard on Nathanial's head- to his dissapointment the man failed to lose consiousness. Instead, he grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt and tossed him away like a stuffed toy.
Harry scrambled to his feet in time to see both his godfather and Nathanial yanked apart by several people dressed in uniform green robes- Hit Wizards.
"Stop it! Stop it! Break it up, you two!" The woman planted an arm across Sirius' chest to keep him from going after Nathanial again- which was just fine for Sirius. What little colour he had gained back from Azkaban had already left him as he spun around, attempting to make the exit.
"Hold it right there!" A wizard stopped him, grabbing him by his long- since-ruined tunic. "You an' this bloke here are gonna shake hands, got it? And- HOLY SHIT!!"
"Well- it's a shirt actually, but, yes, I s'pose it does look like shit." Sirius broke into a cold sweat, knowing very well that the man wasn't talking about his tunic.
"He- he- he's SIRIUS BLOODY BLACK!! Oomph-!" Harry had tackled the wizard, knocking him to the ground.
A second Hit Wizard grabbed him around the waist, yanking Harry upright.
"STUPIFY!"
A/N: Sorry that's all, but my brother wants to use the computer RIGHT NOW. I promise to get another chapter uploaded within the week. I really LOATHE cliff-hangers, so don't expect me to use many (if at all) more. This just seemed like a (Yes, Nick, just a minute!) good place to stop, as Harry gets knocked out. And about the first part- you'll see.
By the way, you'll see why it was called a 'message from Gwynnadale', too, in the next part.