Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.
a/n see bottom. Thanks for all those great reviews!
Abbsiegail - Sirius is one of my favorite characters! I can't seem to kill him… *grin*
Vmr - thanks!
*gasp* Firefairy, you put Cheating Death on your favorite stories list and me as a favorite author? Thanks! I'm so flattered! Wow….
Jenny - humm… I hate to tell you this, but I'm a reaaaally really inconsistent writer. If I have my muse, I could write out a whole story is less than a week, but if not, it'll probably take ears to finish, if ever… *hides* I'll try though!
Angel - thanks!
Cheating Death
By neutral
Chapter two - cheating fear
Flying after an owl after sun down on a broom after having several sleepless nights was a very bad idea, but unfortunately, Harry didn't realize this until after he was already trying it. He could barely keep his eyes open as followed the white form of Hedwig, cutting through the air gracefully. She was rapidly becoming a fuzzy blur in the sky. He was lucky his owl was white and not black or brown, otherwise, he would be in serious trouble.
He should be worried. He should be scared, if not for himself, at least for Sirius. But after almost an entire night of flying, any emotions were gradually being replaced by a heavy numbness. The wind was soothing, brushing his face like hands. All Harry wanted to do was close his eyes for and rest. He leaned forward a bit, and the sky tilted at a wild angle.
Harry snapped back into focus when he felt the invisibility cloak slip off. With a muffled cry, Harry realized he was rapidly falling; the ground was catching up with him as it prepared to swallow him whole. He gripped his Firebolt, seeker senses kicking in, and pulled up sharply. His toes brushed the ground as he straightened, Hedwig hooting loudly beside him. He shivered from the too-close call.
He had to rest. How would he face Voldermort if he could barely even keep his eyes open?
Harry stumbled when he got off the Firebolt. His legs were shaking from the stress, and his hands were cold and numb. He could barely close it into a fist when he picked up the invisibility cloak. Harry sighed, sinking to the ground, feeling like he would never get back up. Hedwig flew to his shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately.
"Are we there yet, girl?" Harry asked softly.
Hedwig ruffled her feathers proudly, flapping her wings. She flew in front of him again, and landed on….
A tombstone.
Harry felt his stomach twist. All the stress and weariness was forgotten as he straightened and looked ahead of him. Crosses, blocks, stones of all shape and sizes littered the graveyard, and a thin mist floated above the moist soil. Small, garbed trees were planted sparsely through the grounds. Harry shivered violently. He recognized this place. This was the place he landed right after the Triwizard Tournament.
The place where Cedric died.
Harry grinned bitterly. How symbolic. How predictable. Voldermort was rather simple minded.
Hedwig flew back to him and cocked her head as she watched him, looking slightly uneasy. The stupidity of his actions suddenly dawned on him, and Harry realized he should have at least contacted Dumbledore or Lupin about his rather compulsive decision.
Sighing, Harry fumbled around for a scrap of paper, but all he uncovered was the crumpled piece of parchment with the dark mark burned on the back. He found a cheap fountain pen in one of his baggy pockets, and scribbled quickly.
Sirius is in trouble. Voldermort has him.
Harry frowned, wondering if he should drag Dumbledore into this. He might be a strong wizard, but he was old and obviously at a disadvantage. If anything should happen to his headmaster, Harry would never forgive himself. Nor would anyone else, for that matter. Finally, he chose on a safer alternative.
He's at the graveyard where Cedric died.
Harry.
That wouldn't give away Harry's obviously stupid decision, he decided. Dumbledore would be immensely worried the moment he saw the dark mark burned on the back, so he added:
Ps. I got this paper back after I tried to write to him. Do you think there are any enchantments on this?
Feeling slightly remorseful, he tied the letter to Hedwig and sent her off again.
"Sorry girl, I know you're tired, but I promise you can rest after this, okay?" Harry whispered. Hedwig pecked him lightly, probably a bit guilty from the bleeding bite she gave him several hours ago.
He watched the snowy owl fly off, his heart sinking with her. Harry just sent away his last companion, and from this point on, he was alone. The hopelessness of his situation suddenly struck him full force, and Harry felt the desperation mirroring the fear he felt during the third task. Harry knew he was in an awkward position; there was no mother to save him, no portkey to whisk him away. He was walking into a trap of an almost certain death, and frankly, he was afraid.
What made him so special anyway? He asked himself angrily. He was only famous because he blocked the killing curse, and that was his mother's doing. His fame had all landed on the wrong shoulders, and Voldermort, by killing him, would gain nothing but petty satisfaction. There was no point with all the protections Dumbledore placed on him. Harry wasn't important. He did nothing but place others in danger, and maybe, once Voldermort had him, he might leave his friends alone. He certainly wasn't worth it. Ron and Hermione had families who cared for them. They would be devastated to lose their children. Sirius was an important contributor to Dumbledore's order. It was Harry who was the sore thumb. He always got in the way.
Harry grinded his teeth together in determination. He was useless! He repeated over and over, trying to keep his conviction. Drawing deep, steadily breaths, Harry stood. He wondered for a moment if he should wear his invisibility cloak, but decided quickly against it. There were so many enchantments here that it wouldn't make a difference. Voldermort was probably prepared for him the moment he sent away the letter.
It was pointless to run in and try to bring Sirius with him when he escaped. He wouldn't succeed, there was hardly any doubt about that. There was one way… only one way.
He folded away the cloak, tucking it with his Firebolt under a thorny brush. Sirius would need it when he escaped, he was still a convict. Taking a deep breath, he ran.
Harry ran until he stood in the very center of the graveyard, feeling the familiar tingle of magic as he brushed past several tombstones. The alarms in his head told him he probably set off several hundred protection wards, but then, just to add to the noise, he took out his wand and filled the sky with red and gold sparks. He was being stupid and suicidal, but Harry never had any hope in the first place.
Almost instantly, there was a small pop behind him. Harry whirled around, pointing his wand at the intruder.
"What are you doing here?" a familiar voice hissed.
Harry almost dropped his wand in surprise. "Professor Snape?!"
"Always wanted to make your entrance with a bang, Potter?" his potions teacher continued angrily. "I thought you were smarter than this! Do you want to die?"
If Harry hadn't known Snape's absolute disgust of anything potter, he would have thought his professor was concerned. But then it dawned on him: Dumbledore's request, Snape's past history. A spy!
"You knew, didn't you?" Harry hissed back, suddenly angry. "You knew Sirius was here, and you didn't tell Dumbledore! I know you hate each other, but isn't killing him for some petty rivalry going too far?"
Snape's entire demeanor faltered for a moment, before his lean form straightened haughtily. "Do you think any of us could return after Black was caught? I haven't been able to contact anyone for weeks! Now get out of here!"
"What?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"Are you so dim? Get out of here before the others arrive!"
"No! You'll probably be killed." Harry whispered angrily. His words surprised both of them, and for a moment, Harry wondered why he would even care. Snape had hated him for years.
Snape was stunned into silence, he seemed at a loss for words. Harry swallowed, feeling a bit of his fear return. "I wasn't planning to leave here alive, anyway," he said quietly, hoping that his teacher couldn't hear.
But he did. Snape's body shook with suppressed anger. "You… you fool! Why does Albus even try to protect you? You're practically suicidal! Get out of here before I drag you!" Snape growled, grabbing his shoulder roughly and pushing him away.
Under the bony fingers, Harry's shoulder burst with a searing pain. He cried out and pulled away, clutching at the old bruise from Dudley's Smeltings stick. His scream wasn't loud, but the noise seemed to alert the rest. Within seconds, the graveyard was filled with black cloaked figures.
"Severus," said one closest to him. "What's taking you so long? Master's getting angry. Who….?" he stopped when his eyes alighted on Harry, pale and trembling, holding his arm protectively. "Well done, Severus. Tried to take your anger out on him already?"
Snape didn't reply, and Harry thought if he could see his face, his potions master would probably be angry and scared, and scheming for a possible escape route. Harry swallowed, fingering his wand hungrily.
"Where's Sirius?" he asked. Thankfully, his voice didn't betray the fear that he felt. It rang across the graveyard, loud and clear. The figures shifted almost nervously.
"Alive," said another, close to his ear.
Harry seethed with anger, recognizing the voice of Lucius Mafloy. He spun around to face him, but before he could turn, cold fingers dug into his shoulder, drawing a scream from his lips. Harry pushed away angrily, feeling the warm tickling of blood seep into his shirt. He drew his wand, intent on making him pay, when another hand caught it.
"Enough. Lets go," said Snape, pulling Harry away roughly.
There was a murmur of agreement in the group. Snape turned and walked away quickly, but Harry hung back. He knew, if Snape found the opportunity, he would flee with him and get him to a safe place. But that would jeopardize Sirius' life and Snape's position as a spy. Snape seemed to understand Harry's thoughts, because his pace soon slowed. He clutched Harry's wrist tightly and pulled him close whenever another glanced his way almost protectively. To the other Death Eaters, Severus might appear to be stamping Harry as his effort for praise from his master, but Harry realized much of it was concern.
His potions teacher was rapidly appearing to him in a different light. Harry wondered if that meant Snape would be nicer to Gryffindors, but that, he highly doubted.
As the group marched slowly on, Harry began to notice a large, three story house that looked neglected from disuse. The windows were broken, and the paint was peeling; it looked like the perfect muggles' version of a haunted house. Just as he was about to look around for the rest of the village, a hot, branding pain escaped from his scar. Harry cried out as his legs buckled beneath him, clutching his scar. The fire was white hot, and it blinded him and slit his head from the inside. Distantly, he heard a gasp of surprise, and bony arms catch him as he fell. Around him were shouts of laughter, and Harry flushed in humiliation. He grinded his teeth, trying to get the pain back into control. He scrambled back to his feet unsteadily, but Snape still had to catch him as he swayed sharply in a particular direction. He let himself be half dragged, half carried the rest of the way to the house.
Harry couldn't quite remember the direction through the corridors, or the number of doors that he passed. He spent the majority of the time with his eyes closed, willing the pain to go away and trying to get some well deserved rest. Snape grunted in protest once in a while as he dragged Harry's dead weight along with him in the hallway, arranging it so that it looked like he was hauling the boy against his will. Harry was still rather light, a bit too light for his age and size, but he was still exhausted when he reached his master's throne room (the power-hungry bastard, he thought).
Voldermort was already waiting for him.
Harry snapped back into focus when he was dropped unceremoniously onto the cold floor. From the pain in his head, he knew immediately what was going on. With a sinking heart, he looked up.
Voldermort's amused red eyes watched him hungrily. Swallowing, Harry stood up shakily, half blinded by the pain in his scar.
"My, my," he whispered, sounding incredibly gratified. "You really did think you could rescue Black by yourself?"
"No," Harry whispered, mimicking his tone and fixing him with his eyes unwaveringly. His stomach seemed to be battling itself, tossing and turning in his body. Harry desperately hoped his face didn't betray him.
"No?" Voldermort sounded only mildly surprised.
"No, I'm here to trade myself for Sirius."
Around him, the Death Eaters rustled in disbelief, but Harry focused only on Voldermort. He tried to distract himself from the pain by trying to imagine his wand running through one of his beady red eyes, and Tom howling in pain and anger.
Voldermort smiled widely with thin lips. "Really." He waved his hand without turning away from Harry's eyes. "Bring him in."
A small door on the side was flung open. They were already waiting, Harry realized, trying to decide whether he should be worried or not. They knew he was coming all along. But all thoughts faded from his mind when he noticed the limp figure that was dumped carelessly on the floor.
Sirius' hair, although previously trimmed, hung in matted strands across his face. His arms were thin, covered with so many bruises that it was hard to tell what color his skin was. His robes were tattered and caked with something that looked suspiciously like dried blood, and his form was so skinny that it made his Akzakan body look fat. Harry bit back tears, but couldn't help the cry of anger from escaping. At his voice, Sirius stirred and lifted his head painfully.
"Harry?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from ill use. He looked up, squinting as he tried to focus.
Harry ran forward at his name, dimly noticing the arms that tried to stop him. He dodged them all, and fell to his knees beside his godfather, choking back sobs.
"What have they done?" he asked softly, gently turning him over and resting Sirius' head against his lap. "I can't believe… Oh god, I'm so sorry!"
"Harry?" Sirius' voice was suddenly clear as he focused on the boy above him. "What are you doing here?"
He struggled to sit, but Harry shoved him down quickly. "I had to come. Listen Sirius, at the eastern edge of the graveyard, right where there are some trees, I've hidden the invisibility cloak and the Firebolt underneath a thorny bush. Do you think you can still fly?"
"What are you talking about?" Sirius looked alarmed. "What are you planning, Harry?"
But Harry wasn't listening. He turned, holding Sirius' hand reassuringly, and looked to Voldermort for a response. The man watched him with an amused smile, looking much calmer than he could remember.
"Voldermort, do you agree with my request?"
Sirius stiffened in shock. "Harry, what are you talking about?"
Harry's hand tightened around his for an instant, and he looked down at Sirius with an apologetic smile.
"Of course, it was my plan all along," Voldermort said calmly. "That is, if Black agrees. He has five minutes."
"Ten!" Harry said quickly, realizing that it would probably take a lot longer to convince Sirius to leave him to die.
Voldermort waved it aside carelessly, looking bored and uninterested.
"Agrees to what?" Sirius asked, sitting up sharply. He resisted Harry's demands to force him back down and stared at him angrily.
"Sirius, you better go." Harry said quickly. "They're going to let you. You need to get medical aid quickly, you look pretty hurt. Can you fly?"
Sirius swallowed, rather embarrassed by the concern Harry was showing him. "I'm alright. But if I'm going, you're coming with me."
Harry didn't respond, unsure of what to say. The chances of Sirius leaving willingly was looking rather distant. "How long have you been here?" Harry finally asked, face somber as he looked at Sirius' battered face.
"Around one or two weeks, I'm not exactly sure," he mumbled. Catching the look of horror on Harry's face, he quickly added, "No, they've been ignoring me until a few days ago."
The look of horror was rapidly replaced by guilt "My letter! Oh god, I'm so sorry. If I had known…"
"You didn't," Sirius said sharply.
Harry nodded, but didn't look very convinced. He knew arguing who owned the fault was a rather pointless debate. Instead, in examined Sirius' arm, where a particularly nasty cut could be seen through his tattered robes, swollen and still bleeding. Blinking away tears,, Harry tore the sleeve of his oversized shirt. Sirius looked at his questioningly, but his expression soon turned into a grimace of pain as Harry bandaged his arm. Harry was being careful, but the movement teased all the bruises and it was impossible to avoid them.
"Sorry," Harry whispered. "it'll have to do for now. Do you think you can still fly?"
The realization suddenly dawned on him, falling like a ton of bricks into his stomach. "Harry, tell me you didn't…" Sirius swallowed, mouth dry. "… trade yourself for me."
"Sirius…"
"You fool! What were you thinking? Do you want to die?" Sirius almost yelled, his fear for his godson's life rapidly turning into anger.
Harry would have laughed at the reminiscent of Snape's words, but the gravity of the situation took any humor out of it. "It's too late," he said instead. "Tell Ron and Hermione I'm sorry. Say hi to Professor Lupin for me, and tell Dumbledore that it wasn't his fault. All my stuff is under a lose floorboard in the smallest bedroom."
Harry paused, looking at Sirius' almost guilty expression, and gave him a timid hug, afraid that he would agitate his wounds. Sirius returned it full force, pressing Harry's face into his bony chest and shaking with quiet sobs. "Don't do this, Harry. You're going to make me feel like I should have died."
"No!" Harry pulled away quickly and fixed him with a glare. "You're going to live. Hurry, get up, they're not going to give us much more time."
He pulled Sirius to his feet, stumbling when the taller man leaned against him. But Sirius was intent on staying.
"Harry, do you have any idea what you're doing?" he asked angrily, pulling away from the boy and almost falling in the process. Harry steadied him quickly, but refused to meet his eyes.
"Yes! Do you think Voldermort'll let me go? Leave, Sirius! It's better one than the both of us!" Harry urged.
"Do you really think I'd leave you alone?"
"Yes, you have to. I faced him three times alone, and I can do it again!"
"That's precisely why I'm not leaving!"
Harry's expression flattered for a moment, and confusion filtered into his eyes. But it vanished in an instant, and he began dragging Sirius to the door. Although his godfather was almost a foot taller, the past few days had drained him, and Sirius could barely struggle against a skinny fourteen year-old.
"You'd do the same for me, you know it," Harry whispered.
"I'm your godfather, a parental figure, Harry. Parents are suppose to die for their children, not the other way around!"
Harry stilled at those words, his hands still on Sirius' arm from when he had been trying to drag him across the room. Sirius paled, realizing what those words must have meant. But Harry shook his head, looking more determined than ever.
"I've lost too many people like that, and I'm not going to lose another!" Harry said firmly. Then his face softened, looking almost pleading. "Please Sirius, you can't die. Leave, I'm begging you."
Sirius felt his eyes watering under Harry's gaze, realizing for the first time, how mature Harry had become without his guidance. He never really need him, it was the other way around. Sirius always thought of Harry as a miniature James, but they were so different in their personalities. Harry was never a replacement, and could never be. He was just Harry, and for some reason, it made him want to protect him more than ever before.
Sighing, Sirius enveloped him into a tight hug; Harry only returned it hesitantly, obviously afraid that he would cause him pain by touching him. He rested his head against the unruly mop of hair, wishing that he could hide him from the burden on his shoulders, away from the pain and frustration that he didn't deserve. And for a moment, all the dark cloaked figures who wanted his guts spilled on the floor faded; it was just him and his godson, free from all the worries of the world. An ex-convict and a wronged boy, who always seemed to have the knack for attracting trouble, dangerous, life threatening troubles.
Reluctantly, Sirius pulled away, pushing some wild strands of hair from Harry's face. He grabbed his shoulders firmly, and calmly met his eyes.
"No."
*
Apparently, the original plan for this chapter turned out waaaaay too long. Either that, I made one scene waaaay too long. This chapter was suppose to end after a battle (surprise surprise), but instead, I had to cut it more than halfway. Even then, this one was more than twice as long as chapter one. Damn. Looks like my hopes for following the original story plan is not working. Suggestions, anyone?
Review review review!! I write faster that way, really I do.
a/n see bottom. Thanks for all those great reviews!
Abbsiegail - Sirius is one of my favorite characters! I can't seem to kill him… *grin*
Vmr - thanks!
*gasp* Firefairy, you put Cheating Death on your favorite stories list and me as a favorite author? Thanks! I'm so flattered! Wow….
Jenny - humm… I hate to tell you this, but I'm a reaaaally really inconsistent writer. If I have my muse, I could write out a whole story is less than a week, but if not, it'll probably take ears to finish, if ever… *hides* I'll try though!
Angel - thanks!
Cheating Death
By neutral
Chapter two - cheating fear
Flying after an owl after sun down on a broom after having several sleepless nights was a very bad idea, but unfortunately, Harry didn't realize this until after he was already trying it. He could barely keep his eyes open as followed the white form of Hedwig, cutting through the air gracefully. She was rapidly becoming a fuzzy blur in the sky. He was lucky his owl was white and not black or brown, otherwise, he would be in serious trouble.
He should be worried. He should be scared, if not for himself, at least for Sirius. But after almost an entire night of flying, any emotions were gradually being replaced by a heavy numbness. The wind was soothing, brushing his face like hands. All Harry wanted to do was close his eyes for and rest. He leaned forward a bit, and the sky tilted at a wild angle.
Harry snapped back into focus when he felt the invisibility cloak slip off. With a muffled cry, Harry realized he was rapidly falling; the ground was catching up with him as it prepared to swallow him whole. He gripped his Firebolt, seeker senses kicking in, and pulled up sharply. His toes brushed the ground as he straightened, Hedwig hooting loudly beside him. He shivered from the too-close call.
He had to rest. How would he face Voldermort if he could barely even keep his eyes open?
Harry stumbled when he got off the Firebolt. His legs were shaking from the stress, and his hands were cold and numb. He could barely close it into a fist when he picked up the invisibility cloak. Harry sighed, sinking to the ground, feeling like he would never get back up. Hedwig flew to his shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately.
"Are we there yet, girl?" Harry asked softly.
Hedwig ruffled her feathers proudly, flapping her wings. She flew in front of him again, and landed on….
A tombstone.
Harry felt his stomach twist. All the stress and weariness was forgotten as he straightened and looked ahead of him. Crosses, blocks, stones of all shape and sizes littered the graveyard, and a thin mist floated above the moist soil. Small, garbed trees were planted sparsely through the grounds. Harry shivered violently. He recognized this place. This was the place he landed right after the Triwizard Tournament.
The place where Cedric died.
Harry grinned bitterly. How symbolic. How predictable. Voldermort was rather simple minded.
Hedwig flew back to him and cocked her head as she watched him, looking slightly uneasy. The stupidity of his actions suddenly dawned on him, and Harry realized he should have at least contacted Dumbledore or Lupin about his rather compulsive decision.
Sighing, Harry fumbled around for a scrap of paper, but all he uncovered was the crumpled piece of parchment with the dark mark burned on the back. He found a cheap fountain pen in one of his baggy pockets, and scribbled quickly.
Sirius is in trouble. Voldermort has him.
Harry frowned, wondering if he should drag Dumbledore into this. He might be a strong wizard, but he was old and obviously at a disadvantage. If anything should happen to his headmaster, Harry would never forgive himself. Nor would anyone else, for that matter. Finally, he chose on a safer alternative.
He's at the graveyard where Cedric died.
Harry.
That wouldn't give away Harry's obviously stupid decision, he decided. Dumbledore would be immensely worried the moment he saw the dark mark burned on the back, so he added:
Ps. I got this paper back after I tried to write to him. Do you think there are any enchantments on this?
Feeling slightly remorseful, he tied the letter to Hedwig and sent her off again.
"Sorry girl, I know you're tired, but I promise you can rest after this, okay?" Harry whispered. Hedwig pecked him lightly, probably a bit guilty from the bleeding bite she gave him several hours ago.
He watched the snowy owl fly off, his heart sinking with her. Harry just sent away his last companion, and from this point on, he was alone. The hopelessness of his situation suddenly struck him full force, and Harry felt the desperation mirroring the fear he felt during the third task. Harry knew he was in an awkward position; there was no mother to save him, no portkey to whisk him away. He was walking into a trap of an almost certain death, and frankly, he was afraid.
What made him so special anyway? He asked himself angrily. He was only famous because he blocked the killing curse, and that was his mother's doing. His fame had all landed on the wrong shoulders, and Voldermort, by killing him, would gain nothing but petty satisfaction. There was no point with all the protections Dumbledore placed on him. Harry wasn't important. He did nothing but place others in danger, and maybe, once Voldermort had him, he might leave his friends alone. He certainly wasn't worth it. Ron and Hermione had families who cared for them. They would be devastated to lose their children. Sirius was an important contributor to Dumbledore's order. It was Harry who was the sore thumb. He always got in the way.
Harry grinded his teeth together in determination. He was useless! He repeated over and over, trying to keep his conviction. Drawing deep, steadily breaths, Harry stood. He wondered for a moment if he should wear his invisibility cloak, but decided quickly against it. There were so many enchantments here that it wouldn't make a difference. Voldermort was probably prepared for him the moment he sent away the letter.
It was pointless to run in and try to bring Sirius with him when he escaped. He wouldn't succeed, there was hardly any doubt about that. There was one way… only one way.
He folded away the cloak, tucking it with his Firebolt under a thorny brush. Sirius would need it when he escaped, he was still a convict. Taking a deep breath, he ran.
Harry ran until he stood in the very center of the graveyard, feeling the familiar tingle of magic as he brushed past several tombstones. The alarms in his head told him he probably set off several hundred protection wards, but then, just to add to the noise, he took out his wand and filled the sky with red and gold sparks. He was being stupid and suicidal, but Harry never had any hope in the first place.
Almost instantly, there was a small pop behind him. Harry whirled around, pointing his wand at the intruder.
"What are you doing here?" a familiar voice hissed.
Harry almost dropped his wand in surprise. "Professor Snape?!"
"Always wanted to make your entrance with a bang, Potter?" his potions teacher continued angrily. "I thought you were smarter than this! Do you want to die?"
If Harry hadn't known Snape's absolute disgust of anything potter, he would have thought his professor was concerned. But then it dawned on him: Dumbledore's request, Snape's past history. A spy!
"You knew, didn't you?" Harry hissed back, suddenly angry. "You knew Sirius was here, and you didn't tell Dumbledore! I know you hate each other, but isn't killing him for some petty rivalry going too far?"
Snape's entire demeanor faltered for a moment, before his lean form straightened haughtily. "Do you think any of us could return after Black was caught? I haven't been able to contact anyone for weeks! Now get out of here!"
"What?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"Are you so dim? Get out of here before the others arrive!"
"No! You'll probably be killed." Harry whispered angrily. His words surprised both of them, and for a moment, Harry wondered why he would even care. Snape had hated him for years.
Snape was stunned into silence, he seemed at a loss for words. Harry swallowed, feeling a bit of his fear return. "I wasn't planning to leave here alive, anyway," he said quietly, hoping that his teacher couldn't hear.
But he did. Snape's body shook with suppressed anger. "You… you fool! Why does Albus even try to protect you? You're practically suicidal! Get out of here before I drag you!" Snape growled, grabbing his shoulder roughly and pushing him away.
Under the bony fingers, Harry's shoulder burst with a searing pain. He cried out and pulled away, clutching at the old bruise from Dudley's Smeltings stick. His scream wasn't loud, but the noise seemed to alert the rest. Within seconds, the graveyard was filled with black cloaked figures.
"Severus," said one closest to him. "What's taking you so long? Master's getting angry. Who….?" he stopped when his eyes alighted on Harry, pale and trembling, holding his arm protectively. "Well done, Severus. Tried to take your anger out on him already?"
Snape didn't reply, and Harry thought if he could see his face, his potions master would probably be angry and scared, and scheming for a possible escape route. Harry swallowed, fingering his wand hungrily.
"Where's Sirius?" he asked. Thankfully, his voice didn't betray the fear that he felt. It rang across the graveyard, loud and clear. The figures shifted almost nervously.
"Alive," said another, close to his ear.
Harry seethed with anger, recognizing the voice of Lucius Mafloy. He spun around to face him, but before he could turn, cold fingers dug into his shoulder, drawing a scream from his lips. Harry pushed away angrily, feeling the warm tickling of blood seep into his shirt. He drew his wand, intent on making him pay, when another hand caught it.
"Enough. Lets go," said Snape, pulling Harry away roughly.
There was a murmur of agreement in the group. Snape turned and walked away quickly, but Harry hung back. He knew, if Snape found the opportunity, he would flee with him and get him to a safe place. But that would jeopardize Sirius' life and Snape's position as a spy. Snape seemed to understand Harry's thoughts, because his pace soon slowed. He clutched Harry's wrist tightly and pulled him close whenever another glanced his way almost protectively. To the other Death Eaters, Severus might appear to be stamping Harry as his effort for praise from his master, but Harry realized much of it was concern.
His potions teacher was rapidly appearing to him in a different light. Harry wondered if that meant Snape would be nicer to Gryffindors, but that, he highly doubted.
As the group marched slowly on, Harry began to notice a large, three story house that looked neglected from disuse. The windows were broken, and the paint was peeling; it looked like the perfect muggles' version of a haunted house. Just as he was about to look around for the rest of the village, a hot, branding pain escaped from his scar. Harry cried out as his legs buckled beneath him, clutching his scar. The fire was white hot, and it blinded him and slit his head from the inside. Distantly, he heard a gasp of surprise, and bony arms catch him as he fell. Around him were shouts of laughter, and Harry flushed in humiliation. He grinded his teeth, trying to get the pain back into control. He scrambled back to his feet unsteadily, but Snape still had to catch him as he swayed sharply in a particular direction. He let himself be half dragged, half carried the rest of the way to the house.
Harry couldn't quite remember the direction through the corridors, or the number of doors that he passed. He spent the majority of the time with his eyes closed, willing the pain to go away and trying to get some well deserved rest. Snape grunted in protest once in a while as he dragged Harry's dead weight along with him in the hallway, arranging it so that it looked like he was hauling the boy against his will. Harry was still rather light, a bit too light for his age and size, but he was still exhausted when he reached his master's throne room (the power-hungry bastard, he thought).
Voldermort was already waiting for him.
Harry snapped back into focus when he was dropped unceremoniously onto the cold floor. From the pain in his head, he knew immediately what was going on. With a sinking heart, he looked up.
Voldermort's amused red eyes watched him hungrily. Swallowing, Harry stood up shakily, half blinded by the pain in his scar.
"My, my," he whispered, sounding incredibly gratified. "You really did think you could rescue Black by yourself?"
"No," Harry whispered, mimicking his tone and fixing him with his eyes unwaveringly. His stomach seemed to be battling itself, tossing and turning in his body. Harry desperately hoped his face didn't betray him.
"No?" Voldermort sounded only mildly surprised.
"No, I'm here to trade myself for Sirius."
Around him, the Death Eaters rustled in disbelief, but Harry focused only on Voldermort. He tried to distract himself from the pain by trying to imagine his wand running through one of his beady red eyes, and Tom howling in pain and anger.
Voldermort smiled widely with thin lips. "Really." He waved his hand without turning away from Harry's eyes. "Bring him in."
A small door on the side was flung open. They were already waiting, Harry realized, trying to decide whether he should be worried or not. They knew he was coming all along. But all thoughts faded from his mind when he noticed the limp figure that was dumped carelessly on the floor.
Sirius' hair, although previously trimmed, hung in matted strands across his face. His arms were thin, covered with so many bruises that it was hard to tell what color his skin was. His robes were tattered and caked with something that looked suspiciously like dried blood, and his form was so skinny that it made his Akzakan body look fat. Harry bit back tears, but couldn't help the cry of anger from escaping. At his voice, Sirius stirred and lifted his head painfully.
"Harry?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from ill use. He looked up, squinting as he tried to focus.
Harry ran forward at his name, dimly noticing the arms that tried to stop him. He dodged them all, and fell to his knees beside his godfather, choking back sobs.
"What have they done?" he asked softly, gently turning him over and resting Sirius' head against his lap. "I can't believe… Oh god, I'm so sorry!"
"Harry?" Sirius' voice was suddenly clear as he focused on the boy above him. "What are you doing here?"
He struggled to sit, but Harry shoved him down quickly. "I had to come. Listen Sirius, at the eastern edge of the graveyard, right where there are some trees, I've hidden the invisibility cloak and the Firebolt underneath a thorny bush. Do you think you can still fly?"
"What are you talking about?" Sirius looked alarmed. "What are you planning, Harry?"
But Harry wasn't listening. He turned, holding Sirius' hand reassuringly, and looked to Voldermort for a response. The man watched him with an amused smile, looking much calmer than he could remember.
"Voldermort, do you agree with my request?"
Sirius stiffened in shock. "Harry, what are you talking about?"
Harry's hand tightened around his for an instant, and he looked down at Sirius with an apologetic smile.
"Of course, it was my plan all along," Voldermort said calmly. "That is, if Black agrees. He has five minutes."
"Ten!" Harry said quickly, realizing that it would probably take a lot longer to convince Sirius to leave him to die.
Voldermort waved it aside carelessly, looking bored and uninterested.
"Agrees to what?" Sirius asked, sitting up sharply. He resisted Harry's demands to force him back down and stared at him angrily.
"Sirius, you better go." Harry said quickly. "They're going to let you. You need to get medical aid quickly, you look pretty hurt. Can you fly?"
Sirius swallowed, rather embarrassed by the concern Harry was showing him. "I'm alright. But if I'm going, you're coming with me."
Harry didn't respond, unsure of what to say. The chances of Sirius leaving willingly was looking rather distant. "How long have you been here?" Harry finally asked, face somber as he looked at Sirius' battered face.
"Around one or two weeks, I'm not exactly sure," he mumbled. Catching the look of horror on Harry's face, he quickly added, "No, they've been ignoring me until a few days ago."
The look of horror was rapidly replaced by guilt "My letter! Oh god, I'm so sorry. If I had known…"
"You didn't," Sirius said sharply.
Harry nodded, but didn't look very convinced. He knew arguing who owned the fault was a rather pointless debate. Instead, in examined Sirius' arm, where a particularly nasty cut could be seen through his tattered robes, swollen and still bleeding. Blinking away tears,, Harry tore the sleeve of his oversized shirt. Sirius looked at his questioningly, but his expression soon turned into a grimace of pain as Harry bandaged his arm. Harry was being careful, but the movement teased all the bruises and it was impossible to avoid them.
"Sorry," Harry whispered. "it'll have to do for now. Do you think you can still fly?"
The realization suddenly dawned on him, falling like a ton of bricks into his stomach. "Harry, tell me you didn't…" Sirius swallowed, mouth dry. "… trade yourself for me."
"Sirius…"
"You fool! What were you thinking? Do you want to die?" Sirius almost yelled, his fear for his godson's life rapidly turning into anger.
Harry would have laughed at the reminiscent of Snape's words, but the gravity of the situation took any humor out of it. "It's too late," he said instead. "Tell Ron and Hermione I'm sorry. Say hi to Professor Lupin for me, and tell Dumbledore that it wasn't his fault. All my stuff is under a lose floorboard in the smallest bedroom."
Harry paused, looking at Sirius' almost guilty expression, and gave him a timid hug, afraid that he would agitate his wounds. Sirius returned it full force, pressing Harry's face into his bony chest and shaking with quiet sobs. "Don't do this, Harry. You're going to make me feel like I should have died."
"No!" Harry pulled away quickly and fixed him with a glare. "You're going to live. Hurry, get up, they're not going to give us much more time."
He pulled Sirius to his feet, stumbling when the taller man leaned against him. But Sirius was intent on staying.
"Harry, do you have any idea what you're doing?" he asked angrily, pulling away from the boy and almost falling in the process. Harry steadied him quickly, but refused to meet his eyes.
"Yes! Do you think Voldermort'll let me go? Leave, Sirius! It's better one than the both of us!" Harry urged.
"Do you really think I'd leave you alone?"
"Yes, you have to. I faced him three times alone, and I can do it again!"
"That's precisely why I'm not leaving!"
Harry's expression flattered for a moment, and confusion filtered into his eyes. But it vanished in an instant, and he began dragging Sirius to the door. Although his godfather was almost a foot taller, the past few days had drained him, and Sirius could barely struggle against a skinny fourteen year-old.
"You'd do the same for me, you know it," Harry whispered.
"I'm your godfather, a parental figure, Harry. Parents are suppose to die for their children, not the other way around!"
Harry stilled at those words, his hands still on Sirius' arm from when he had been trying to drag him across the room. Sirius paled, realizing what those words must have meant. But Harry shook his head, looking more determined than ever.
"I've lost too many people like that, and I'm not going to lose another!" Harry said firmly. Then his face softened, looking almost pleading. "Please Sirius, you can't die. Leave, I'm begging you."
Sirius felt his eyes watering under Harry's gaze, realizing for the first time, how mature Harry had become without his guidance. He never really need him, it was the other way around. Sirius always thought of Harry as a miniature James, but they were so different in their personalities. Harry was never a replacement, and could never be. He was just Harry, and for some reason, it made him want to protect him more than ever before.
Sighing, Sirius enveloped him into a tight hug; Harry only returned it hesitantly, obviously afraid that he would cause him pain by touching him. He rested his head against the unruly mop of hair, wishing that he could hide him from the burden on his shoulders, away from the pain and frustration that he didn't deserve. And for a moment, all the dark cloaked figures who wanted his guts spilled on the floor faded; it was just him and his godson, free from all the worries of the world. An ex-convict and a wronged boy, who always seemed to have the knack for attracting trouble, dangerous, life threatening troubles.
Reluctantly, Sirius pulled away, pushing some wild strands of hair from Harry's face. He grabbed his shoulders firmly, and calmly met his eyes.
"No."
*
Apparently, the original plan for this chapter turned out waaaaay too long. Either that, I made one scene waaaay too long. This chapter was suppose to end after a battle (surprise surprise), but instead, I had to cut it more than halfway. Even then, this one was more than twice as long as chapter one. Damn. Looks like my hopes for following the original story plan is not working. Suggestions, anyone?
Review review review!! I write faster that way, really I do.