Harry winced but smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Hedwig," petting his snowy white owl, "you can't deliver this time." He lowered his voice. "We don't want Sirius getting in trouble, do we?"
Hedwig looked ruffled but also seemed to understand. With an affronted but soft hoot she flew into the air, circled near the ceiling twice, then took off to the Great Hall to fly about outside. Harry smiled after her before turning back to the brown owl. "You look a bit like Pig, you know," he murmured, tying the letter about its leg securely but not too tightly. He held out his arm and the owl hopped onto it. Its heavy, hooded eyes gave it a sleepy look. "Go to Sirius," whispered Harry and prompted with a push of his arm. The brown owl leapt into the air, flapped its wings, then soared off.
Harry watched after it for a moment, hands in his pockets, before stepping over the owl droppings and making his way back to the Great Hall.
****
No reply came from Sirius the next day. Harry hadn't expected one; logically speaking, such a quick response was nearly impossible. Still, he had hoped.
Classes started again on Monday. Hermione had to throw herself into disciplining younger students, reporting to the Head Boy or Girl, and yelling at Peeves whenever he caused trouble in front of her. Potions was horrible, as usual. It may have just been Harry, but Snape seemed consistently more out of temper than before; hardly a surprise. What i>was/i> a surprise was that Harry didn't have to bear the brunt of it. As a matter of fact, Snape never looked twice at him throughout the entire week.
"If I didn't know better," muttered Ron once, "I'd think he was scared of you."
Defense Against the Dark Arts was interesting, if not altogether comfortable. Professor 'Harrison' began going over the basics of combat with them. Harry wished she ignored him as much as Snape did; she seemed to pay special attention to everything he did, though at times it seemed so subtle Harry was sure he was imagining things.
"Watch that grip, Longbottom," she'd say crisply over Harry's head while passing by. "Thumb, pointer, middle, relax everything else but keep it firm." Harry would look down at his own hand and see that he was making the same mistake.
Hermione pointed out with satisfied amusement the way Draco sneered or glared poisonously at Rysk every time her back was turned. "His detention must have been worse than yours, Ron!" she exclaimed delightedly.
Within two weeks Rysk had sharpened her fifth year class's reflexes to a needle-sharp point. At least when it came to drawing wands.
"All right, you can get them out now. Next time we'll see if you know which end to use," she informed them coldly.
"How dare she," hissed Malfoy to Goyle, "Does she think we're dimwits?"
"Has Slytherin lost the House Cup for three years straight, Malfoy?" said Rysk with sarcastic pity, proving her acute sense of hearing once again as she didn't even look up from organizing papers. Malfoy's cheeks turned a slightly deeper shade of white. The entire Gryffindor side snickered.
Good news came in the form of a notice tacked by Hermione to a board in the Gryffindor common room: Transfiguration classes were now doubled with Hufflepuff, not Slytherin.
"Thank God," said Neville with a scornful laugh, very unlike himself. Ginny had given him a sidelong but approving glance.
McGonagall apparently shared Neville's sentiments. She had walked into class the first day after the change with what Harry swore was a spring in her step. Quidditch practice started that same day. Angelina Johnson had been made the new captain of the Gryffindor team, and during first practice Harry and the rest saw a very new--and frightening--side of her.
"Move it, move it! That's one more formation you'll have to do, don't screw it up again!"
"She's worse than Oliver Wood was," groaned Harry to Ron, collapsing into bed at an ungodly hour of the night, sore from dodging bludgers. Much as his muscles protested, he managed to fling a pillow at Ron when his friend started laughing.
The days blurred into weeks and the weeks merged into months. Harry and his friends were consumed with making mischief (during the day; Filch had posted Mrs. Norris in front of the Fat Lady and she was unmovable), homework, Quidditch games, and studying for their O.W.L.'s. (Hermione was notorious for being awake until one in the morning. "Oh, I do hope I get a decent amount of them!").
Before Harry knew it, it was two weeks to Christmas holidays. This came as both a relief and an agony that twisted his insides in a most sickening manner: Sirius's reply still had not come.
****
"Staying for the holidays again, Potter?" drawled a cold voice from behind as Harry signed his name on the sheet for staying over break. "My, I never knew one's family could hate you so much."
"They're not my family, Malfoy," said Harry, surprising himself with the calm amusement in his voice. He turned to face the Slytherin boy. "And besides, you should be the last person to be surprised--the rest of the world hates you enough as it is."
A dangerous look crossed Malfoy's face, but Harry simply shrugged and walked into the Great Hall. His eyes widened in alarm as he saw Hermione helping Ron lug his trunks across the Hall.
"Ron!" He ran up to them, grabbing a bag from Hermione. "What's going on?"
"Oh, hello." Ron gave a wan smile, but his eyes looked strained. "Dumbledore gave me early leave. Mum and Dad need me."
Harry blinked as they walked along. "How--"
"Bill's picking me up," explained Ron. "Sorry, Harry. I guess you're on your own this break."
"It's all right. Tell...tell your family I say hi."
Ron nodded. He obviously was dreading what awaited him at The Burrow and was yet more terrified of the idea of not being there. Harry and Hermione winced as they opened the doors and were greeted with a blast of cold and snow.
"Is he crazy?" shrieked Hermione over the wind, pointing. Harry and Ron followed her finger, squinting against the flurries, and saw Bill Weasley striding through the snow over the grounds to them. He was wearing nothing but a casual suit and robes (and of course a shark's tooth dangling from one ear).
"Hello," called Bill, waving, once he was within earshot. He jogged up the steps and sized his little brother up. Ron was nearly level with him. "God, Ron, you've grown."
"Wh-wh-where's your coat?" asked Harry through chattering teeth. Bill blinked.
"Oh! It's a warmth spell," he explained. "Here." Bill pulled out his wand and pointed it at Ron. "Envelop infaredus."
The air around Ron shimmered for a moment. He blinked, then abruptly stopped shivering with a slow smile. "Hey..."
"C'mon, Ron," said Bill briskly, picking a few of his bags. "Bye, Harry, Hermione."
Harry waved at Ron, who had turned back to glance at them at the bottom of the stairs, but Hermione chose that moment to fly down to him despite the freezing cold and toss her arms around him. Ron looked both embarrassed and pleased at once. The wind flung what Hermione was saying away from Harry, but Ron heard. The youngest Weasley boy closed his eyes and rested his chin on Hermione's head for the briefest moment before pulling back, saying goodbye, and hurrying after his brother.
Hermione turned and walked quickly up the stairs. "What're you smiling at?" she snapped at Harry. The intended effect was negated by the trembling of her lower lip. Harry ducked his head and followed Hermione back inside.
****
Harry felt as though his body had turned to lead. It was the day before Christmas. Hermione had left a few days before, and still no word from Sirius. Harry's worry was escalating into real fear. Oh, he'd reasoned with himself: "getting the old gang together", whatever the hell that meant, was probably taking a lot of work. After all, they were fighting Voldemort. If Harry could only follow what was happening concerning the Dark Lord, his mind might have been eased a bit. But such was impossible: the Ministry--Fudge's Ministry--had a choke-hold on the Daily Prophet, and no articles about the rise of Voldemort was allowed within a square mile of the paper. Hermione still had a hold on Rita Skeeter in the jar, but it was times like this Harry wished he could send the sensationalist writer on every lead that even smacked faintly of the Dark Arts. She'd let the wizarding world know, all right.
The Great Hall's ceiling reflected falling snow that never touched the ground and dinner was about to start. Harry was among one of the few students staying over vacation. There were but ten or twenty at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables and barely five at Slytherin. Everything was relatively quiet. Harry was grateful; his nerves were frayed enough already. He had resolved to find a way to see Dumbledore after the meal and inquire about his godfather.
"Merry Christmas, Harry," said Seamus from farther down the table. His parents were in the Bahamas. Harry smiled and nodded.
"You, too."
Movement from the High Table drew Harry's eye. Dumbledore had just stood to make his eve of Christmas speech which, if past holidays were anything to go by, promised to be interesting.
"Well," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "it seems that we've completed half a year in no time at all..." Dumbledore trailed off, his blue eyes suddenly unfocused and wandering, as if searching for something. He turned to say something to McGonagall, and Harry noticed that Snape was missing from the room.
That was quickly remedied.
"Headmaster!" The Potions master stumbled into the Great Hall from the foyer. Unmelted snow was in his long black hair and covered his disheveled robes; he must have come in through one of the side doors leading to the grounds. "Headmaster, round up the students! Get them to their rooms! Quick!" He paused for breath.
The Hall was frozen until Professor 'Harrison' leapt to her feet, knocking her chair over. "What the hell is--"
"Do it!" roared Snape.
In a flash McGonagall and Sprout were among the House tables, urging students from their chairs and ushering them out into the foyer. Harry's eyes never left Snape and Rysk as he was jostled along with the rest. He saw the latter fly at Snape and grab him by the robes, demanding what was happening.
Harry saw Snape's lips move, and there was no doubt what they said: "It's Black!"
Harry gasped as he was pushed past the arched egress into the foyer. He immediately wheeled about and began plowing with all his might through the other students, violently knocking any who stood in his way aside with his elbows.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter, come back here at once!" McGonagall shrilled. Harry paid her no heed.
He dashed out into the Great Hall in time to see the tail of Snape's black robes disappear through the doors on the far side. Already breathing heavily, Harry broke into a full, unchecked sprint, wrenched the doors open, and ran outside into the snow.
A burning pain flared in his upper arm as he ran, looking for any sign of the teachers. He must have torn a muscle.
The howling wind quickly froze his skin and flaked his lips. A muffled shout reached Harry's ears; he stopped and looked sharply around. There by, the lake, were Rysk, Dumbledore, and Snape, all staring up into the sky. With a sinking feeling of dread Harry followed their gazes.
High, high above the ground swooped three broomsticks. Brilliant red flashes of color streaked between the faint dots that were the riders up in the dark winter sky. Harry felt like vomitting--that was the color of the Crutacious Curse.
He was absolutely certain it was Sirius on one of those broomsticks, dodging the curses as best he could.
A body suddenly tumbled from the sky, an unconscious woman in hooded black robes. Harry watched with bile rising in his throat as she plummeted to the frozen lake with a sickening crack. The ice split and the dead woman's broken body sank into the cold water.
"Fucking Christ!" he heard Rysk swear, carried to him on the wind.
One of the broomsticks suddenly dove at a nearly-vertical angle to the ground. After a brief hesitation the other one pursued at breakneck speed. The two riders grew larger until Harry could see that the one who had initiated the dive was indeed his godfather.
The wizard chasing him had his wand out. Harry saw him scream a curse that leapt from his wand in red lightening.
This time, it hit.
Sirius Black screamed in impossible agony and tumbled off of his broom, twitching and flailing in a way that made Harry sick to his stomach as he fell nearly thirty feet to the ground.
"NO!"
Dumbledore wheeled about at the sound of Harry's shriek. Sirius landed on the edge of the lake; Snape flinched as something snapped loudly. Black continued to twist and writhe, screaming his voice hoarse.
The Death Eater landed safely, an insane look of glee in his eyes as he held the wand on Sirius. He had barely stumbled off of his broom before Snape yelled, "Expelliarmus!"
The Death Eater's wand flew from his hand, but the wind blew it away from Snape's grasp. Sirius jerked once and lay still like a macabre parody of a stringless puppet. Blood began to rapidly stain the snow around him.
"Accio wand!" Dumbledore commanded, recovering the wand. At that moment Harry came plowing through the snow, shouting wildly. The Headmaster caught hold of the young boy's arm.
"Let me go!" cried Harry, fighting to free himself and go to his godfather. Snape roughly caught hold of his other arm. "Let me go!"
Only Rysk saw what was happening in time: Voldemort's servant had produced a long, wicked blade and was already lunging at the helpless Black. Rysk launched herself at the Death Eater with unnatural speed. One brutal kick to the back of the knees and she was on top of him. The dark wizard snarled and slashed with his knife at her heart. Without the leverage to block it, Rysk twisted to the side.
It saved her life. Instead plunging into her chest the knife only bit deeply into her side, slicing through her robes and Muggle clothing. Blood spilled instantly.
The young witch shouted in pain, one hand clutching at the wound. With the other she pinned the Death Eater's wrist down into the snow. A terrifying, vicious light bordering on insane had entered those emotionless grey eyes. Harry saw her bloody hand flash down to her leather belt and grab something he couldn't see, but her fingers were definitely wrapped around something solid.
Dumbledore seemed to know what she had drawn. "No, Carmen! Expelliarmus!"
Nothing happened. Shock and then horrified realization passed over Dumbledore's features.
Snape acted. He let go of Harry's arm and flew at Rysk, slamming into her and knocking her to the ground beside Sirius. "Stupefy!" roared Dumbledore, pointing not his wand but his hand at the dark wizard. The Death Eater's head fell back and his body went limp.
Harry pulled out of Dumbledore's grasp. "Sirius!" He fell to his knees beside his godfather, not feeling the way the cold snow burned into his skin. Sirius's eyes were still rolled to the back of his head and he was struggling to breathe. White bone protruded from an arm and a leg, both of them bent at sickening angles. Harry cradled Sirius's head and the injured man slowly looked up into his eyes. "Harry..."
"Shit," he heard someone snarl. Rysk was pushing herself up on her hands, apparently ignoring the ghastly wound in her side. Her blood spread over the snow to meet that of Sirius's.
Sirius's eyes focused on her. "Rysk," he gasped after a moment. "Heard...you were here..." Then he passed out.
