Part Two
Disclaimer - Blast you, J.K., I said I don't own it, and if you sue me, I'll turn you into a four-foot prune!
Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! I'm too lazy to check for names now. No insult meant to anyone. You're all wonderful and I'm overjoyed to have an audience at last!
Ten minutes until the door would appear.
The torch burned lower. Harry crouched by the still form, feeling the tears like acid pour down his cheeks, eating into him, eating into his heart and his soul.
"I can't do it, Sirius," he whispered, feeling a sob rise in his chest. "I can't do it. I can't. And now -" He took a ragged breath as the torch spluttered. "Now I'm all alone, and even if I succeed, even if I do get out, the Keys are gone. They're gone. How am I supposed to get back? I won't be able to."
He heard Dumbledore's voice echo inside his head, but it didn't seem to echo. It was quiet, as it had been when he said it, inside that warm room - it's so cold here, Harry thought, and grasped Sirius' hand. So cold - with all its little whirring contraptions, and Fawkes sitting on his shoulder. "Anyone who leaves will be unable to return unless they have the Keyholder."
"Me," Sirius had said quietly, and Dumbledore had nodded. There had been something in his eyes, something sad. Had he known? Harry didn't care. "But there's one thing I don't understand. How would someone else get a Key from me? The Key to the Ministry, or to here, or to the other homes?"
Harry stopped listening. He forced the voices to stop.
Just before the torch finally went out, Harry looked down at Sirius' face. There was a glistening bright drop on his cheek. A tear. That's my tear, Harry said to himself. It's mine. But he couldn't help imagine that it was Sirius', that perhaps he wasn't really dead and he was crying. Maybe he would open his eyes then and tell his godson yes, yes Harry you can do it. I'm here with you, Harry.
He closed his eyes, praying to hear Sirius' voice. He heard a soft sob, and opened his eyes, and squeezed Sirius' hand.
Then he realized he had been the one who had sobbed. The fantasy vanished, and he was left with the body of the last member of his family. Remus. Oh, God, how will I tell Remus?
Or maybe, oh, God, how will they tell Remus? I'm all he's got left now. He can't lose me too. Hermione - Ron - the Weasleys - Dumbledore - I've got to win this. For them.
Harry glanced down at Sirius and used the sleeve of his robe to wipe his tear away.
And for you.
The torch spluttered again, and died. Darkness fell over them. Over him.
Five minutes.
Disclaimer - Blast you, J.K., I said I don't own it, and if you sue me, I'll turn you into a four-foot prune!
Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! I'm too lazy to check for names now. No insult meant to anyone. You're all wonderful and I'm overjoyed to have an audience at last!
Ten minutes until the door would appear.
The torch burned lower. Harry crouched by the still form, feeling the tears like acid pour down his cheeks, eating into him, eating into his heart and his soul.
"I can't do it, Sirius," he whispered, feeling a sob rise in his chest. "I can't do it. I can't. And now -" He took a ragged breath as the torch spluttered. "Now I'm all alone, and even if I succeed, even if I do get out, the Keys are gone. They're gone. How am I supposed to get back? I won't be able to."
He heard Dumbledore's voice echo inside his head, but it didn't seem to echo. It was quiet, as it had been when he said it, inside that warm room - it's so cold here, Harry thought, and grasped Sirius' hand. So cold - with all its little whirring contraptions, and Fawkes sitting on his shoulder. "Anyone who leaves will be unable to return unless they have the Keyholder."
"Me," Sirius had said quietly, and Dumbledore had nodded. There had been something in his eyes, something sad. Had he known? Harry didn't care. "But there's one thing I don't understand. How would someone else get a Key from me? The Key to the Ministry, or to here, or to the other homes?"
Harry stopped listening. He forced the voices to stop.
Just before the torch finally went out, Harry looked down at Sirius' face. There was a glistening bright drop on his cheek. A tear. That's my tear, Harry said to himself. It's mine. But he couldn't help imagine that it was Sirius', that perhaps he wasn't really dead and he was crying. Maybe he would open his eyes then and tell his godson yes, yes Harry you can do it. I'm here with you, Harry.
He closed his eyes, praying to hear Sirius' voice. He heard a soft sob, and opened his eyes, and squeezed Sirius' hand.
Then he realized he had been the one who had sobbed. The fantasy vanished, and he was left with the body of the last member of his family. Remus. Oh, God, how will I tell Remus?
Or maybe, oh, God, how will they tell Remus? I'm all he's got left now. He can't lose me too. Hermione - Ron - the Weasleys - Dumbledore - I've got to win this. For them.
Harry glanced down at Sirius and used the sleeve of his robe to wipe his tear away.
And for you.
The torch spluttered again, and died. Darkness fell over them. Over him.
Five minutes.