His Word
by Kiana Unei
'Does Ginny have a role in this?' Yes. Something happened to her that becomes a plot issue. 'Does Sirius really look *that* bad?' Well . . . what kind of a judge can he be if he hasn't seen himself in a mirrior since before he went to Azkaban?
Chapter XVIII:
Breaking Point
"HARRY!" Sirius took the old staircase three steps at a time, feeling ill. He reached the top and whirled around, trying to figure the lay of the sprawling rooms. A light was on, coming from undernieth a door down one hall- Sirius beat at it with his fist until the occupant allowed him enterance. "Harry?"
The boy looked startled. "Sirius? What's wrong?"
"I don't know. Something happened to the Weasley girl."
"Ginny?" Harry shrugged into his jumper. "Where? What?"
"In the garden. I don't know. She's unconsious." He looked the boy over, solidifying his knowlage that Harry was, at least for the moment, safe. "Come on, kiddo- let's head downstairs where there's more light."
He took the boy by the arm, keeping a firm grip on him as they decended the steps, afraid Harry might vanish at any moment.
The girl was lieing streached out on the Weasley's battered couch, eyes dark slits against her pale skin, being attended to by none other than Mme Pomfrey. The doctor looked up when the two entered. "Hello, Harry. Black." The last was said with more than a little contempt, spawned most likely from not only years of distrust, but also the man's recent conviction. From her cold gaze, Sirius realized that the woman figured him as a more-than-likely suspect for the youngest Weasley's ailment.
"What happened?" Harry made his way across the soft carpet to Pomfrey's side, where he was given an impatient look.
"I don't know. She's suffering from the after-effects of a mild seziure, shock, and is now comatose. The cause is unknown, but it seems to be a poison."
"Poison?" Mrs Weasley's voice was tight and pained. Her husband squeezed her arm gently. "Who would do that? Why?"
Pomfrey shook her head. "I've no idea." She snuck a glance at Sirius. "What questionable strangers have been around her recently?"
"We can narrow it down furthur than that," a cold voice emerged from the lit fire, and seconds later, so did a man.
"You," Sirius hissed, glaring darkly at the Hogwarts Potion's Master. Snape gave him an equally detesting look.
"What are the symptoms?" Mme Pomfrey quickly related them, and Snape knelt by the girl's side. "Could be any number of things. You said she just collapsed?"
Mrs Weasley shook her head. "I don't know . . . I wasn't there."
"Was she acting peculiar before . . ?" Snape continued his questioning. "Showing any unusual behaviour? Over-alert, excited, subdued?"
"She was hanging upside-down from the stairail," Sirius put in helpfully. Snape gave him a withering stare. Quickly, he added, "She seemed to be moving around quite a bit; figiting. I thought-"
"You thought?" Snape sneered with faux amazement. "Good God, Hell must be going through an ice-age."
"Shut it, you stupid bugger," Sirius made to give the man a guesture, but ran the hand through his hair instead, catching sight of Harry. It wouldn't do to give the boy any ideas.
"'Figiting'. The girl is what? Fourteen? Children figit, Black; it's one of the annoying little games they play to occupy themselves around less- than-agreeable company." He shot the man a nasty look.
"And I'm sure you're the expert on watching children figit," Sirius sneered back.
"I spent seven years around you, the moron, the werewolf, and that coward, so yes, I do know quite a bit about the subject."
"You-"
"ENOUGH!" Mrs Weasley planted the palm of her hand against Sirius' chest and shoved him backwards, keeping him from going after Snape. "My daughter is very ill, and I WON'T have you bickering with eachother like children!"
"Quite." Snape peered down his long nose at the other man, smiling triumphantly. He had, once again, gotten the score. "Thank you, Madam, for shutting up that irritating bugger- he never knows when to stop. Think, Black, you wouldn't have been arrested without a trial had you not gone after Pet-"
"Oh, shut it!" Sirius spat out the words, working hard to keep his diamond-hard facade from breaking. Childishly, he wished for something hard to throw at the other.
"Proffessor," Snape spoke coldly to Pomfrey, "I can't begin to test the girl's body for poisoning with that idiot hovering over me."
"Black, if you don't mind," Pomfrey motioned to the door. "You've an apartment, haven't you?"
"No," Sirius gave her a dark look, "the Ministry is waiting to compensate me until AFTER they throw me back in prison."
"Then, please, go lock yourself in Azkaban; you'll get out a day earlier," Snape hissed from between the eight brightly coloured bottles he'd retrieved from a pocket of his robe.
Sirius' eyes narrowed to slits carved in the blank look of his face. With a curt, mockery of a bow, he spun on his heel and strode almost iso metricaly to the door, then turned back. "Good night, Mr, Mrs Weasley. Hope she is all right. Ta, Harry."
He closed the door softly behind him.
A/N: Next chapter: Sirius uses his fifteen hours to locate Wesson, and other things develope. The Ministry is actually trusting him to show up at ten o'clock so they can throw him back into Azkaban?? Stupid of them. Sorry it's short- but I've got to do my homework.
by Kiana Unei
'Does Ginny have a role in this?' Yes. Something happened to her that becomes a plot issue. 'Does Sirius really look *that* bad?' Well . . . what kind of a judge can he be if he hasn't seen himself in a mirrior since before he went to Azkaban?
Chapter XVIII:
Breaking Point
"HARRY!" Sirius took the old staircase three steps at a time, feeling ill. He reached the top and whirled around, trying to figure the lay of the sprawling rooms. A light was on, coming from undernieth a door down one hall- Sirius beat at it with his fist until the occupant allowed him enterance. "Harry?"
The boy looked startled. "Sirius? What's wrong?"
"I don't know. Something happened to the Weasley girl."
"Ginny?" Harry shrugged into his jumper. "Where? What?"
"In the garden. I don't know. She's unconsious." He looked the boy over, solidifying his knowlage that Harry was, at least for the moment, safe. "Come on, kiddo- let's head downstairs where there's more light."
He took the boy by the arm, keeping a firm grip on him as they decended the steps, afraid Harry might vanish at any moment.
The girl was lieing streached out on the Weasley's battered couch, eyes dark slits against her pale skin, being attended to by none other than Mme Pomfrey. The doctor looked up when the two entered. "Hello, Harry. Black." The last was said with more than a little contempt, spawned most likely from not only years of distrust, but also the man's recent conviction. From her cold gaze, Sirius realized that the woman figured him as a more-than-likely suspect for the youngest Weasley's ailment.
"What happened?" Harry made his way across the soft carpet to Pomfrey's side, where he was given an impatient look.
"I don't know. She's suffering from the after-effects of a mild seziure, shock, and is now comatose. The cause is unknown, but it seems to be a poison."
"Poison?" Mrs Weasley's voice was tight and pained. Her husband squeezed her arm gently. "Who would do that? Why?"
Pomfrey shook her head. "I've no idea." She snuck a glance at Sirius. "What questionable strangers have been around her recently?"
"We can narrow it down furthur than that," a cold voice emerged from the lit fire, and seconds later, so did a man.
"You," Sirius hissed, glaring darkly at the Hogwarts Potion's Master. Snape gave him an equally detesting look.
"What are the symptoms?" Mme Pomfrey quickly related them, and Snape knelt by the girl's side. "Could be any number of things. You said she just collapsed?"
Mrs Weasley shook her head. "I don't know . . . I wasn't there."
"Was she acting peculiar before . . ?" Snape continued his questioning. "Showing any unusual behaviour? Over-alert, excited, subdued?"
"She was hanging upside-down from the stairail," Sirius put in helpfully. Snape gave him a withering stare. Quickly, he added, "She seemed to be moving around quite a bit; figiting. I thought-"
"You thought?" Snape sneered with faux amazement. "Good God, Hell must be going through an ice-age."
"Shut it, you stupid bugger," Sirius made to give the man a guesture, but ran the hand through his hair instead, catching sight of Harry. It wouldn't do to give the boy any ideas.
"'Figiting'. The girl is what? Fourteen? Children figit, Black; it's one of the annoying little games they play to occupy themselves around less- than-agreeable company." He shot the man a nasty look.
"And I'm sure you're the expert on watching children figit," Sirius sneered back.
"I spent seven years around you, the moron, the werewolf, and that coward, so yes, I do know quite a bit about the subject."
"You-"
"ENOUGH!" Mrs Weasley planted the palm of her hand against Sirius' chest and shoved him backwards, keeping him from going after Snape. "My daughter is very ill, and I WON'T have you bickering with eachother like children!"
"Quite." Snape peered down his long nose at the other man, smiling triumphantly. He had, once again, gotten the score. "Thank you, Madam, for shutting up that irritating bugger- he never knows when to stop. Think, Black, you wouldn't have been arrested without a trial had you not gone after Pet-"
"Oh, shut it!" Sirius spat out the words, working hard to keep his diamond-hard facade from breaking. Childishly, he wished for something hard to throw at the other.
"Proffessor," Snape spoke coldly to Pomfrey, "I can't begin to test the girl's body for poisoning with that idiot hovering over me."
"Black, if you don't mind," Pomfrey motioned to the door. "You've an apartment, haven't you?"
"No," Sirius gave her a dark look, "the Ministry is waiting to compensate me until AFTER they throw me back in prison."
"Then, please, go lock yourself in Azkaban; you'll get out a day earlier," Snape hissed from between the eight brightly coloured bottles he'd retrieved from a pocket of his robe.
Sirius' eyes narrowed to slits carved in the blank look of his face. With a curt, mockery of a bow, he spun on his heel and strode almost iso metricaly to the door, then turned back. "Good night, Mr, Mrs Weasley. Hope she is all right. Ta, Harry."
He closed the door softly behind him.
A/N: Next chapter: Sirius uses his fifteen hours to locate Wesson, and other things develope. The Ministry is actually trusting him to show up at ten o'clock so they can throw him back into Azkaban?? Stupid of them. Sorry it's short- but I've got to do my homework.