Dedication: To Tara. Look, I did it!
Author's Note: This *should* be the last of the itty-bitty chapters. Everything's set up now, it's time for the action to start. :-)
Sirius
They were all idiots. Each and every one of them. Why didn't they see it? Snape was going to get them all killed. An army. A fucking army. And they, stupid sheep that they were, would follow blindly. Lambs to the slaughter, all of them.
He was the only amongst them who had any sense left. Despite all that had happened, it was *him* who retained a shred of sanity. How ironic. How very fucking ironic.
Down the hall, to his room. The door slammed. He had half a mind to throw a fit. It would make him feel better. He had done it many times, behind his closed door. Yelled and screamed and beat his fists and feet against whatever surface lent itself to him.
But now was not the time. He was enraged beyond words. How could they have given themselves over so easily?
But he knew. His mind knew, deep in places he hated to go, that it was all they had. The Gryffindor in him refused to give up. He would not lay down and die, a beaten dog.
But to follow Snape...the bastard! The self serving, know it all, pain in the arse bastard! To follow him, to serve under him, it irked him.
Train. Train who? Train what? Battle magics. As if he were the only one capable! But, out of all they had, he supposed he was.
//I'm not a fucking teacher!// He sank down in a chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. He was prone to fits of anger, now.
//Damn it!//
They didn't understand. They weren't beat because of Harry's death. Not directly. They were beaten because of what it meant, because of the toll it had taken on all of them. Not to mention Dumbledore...
But they didn't see. Or they wouldn't admit. Snape didn't care, he never had. Just another casualty, to him. And Moony had defended him. Traitor.
//Why?// Sirius laid his head down on his desk. Why had Moony stood up for him like that? They were the only ones left, really. The only ones that mattered. He should stand by him. It was What Was Done.
But no. No, he had supported Snape. Snape. They were all going to die.
//Fine. I'll play his little game. I'll play the happy little soldier.// But he didn't have to like it. And he wouldn't. He'd hate every minute of it. Oh, but how he looked forward to seeing the greasy git fail. They'd all see who had been right.
But they never listened. He knew what they thought about him. That he was mad. That he was missing a few quills in his case. Azkaban rattled him. He never recovered. And now, losing Harry....he was useless.
They didn't know anything. He was fine. He was thinking clearly, more clearly then anyone else.
Using children. What sort of sick fuck used children? Only one. Sirius didn't trust him. How could anyone? He served Voldemort, and people like that...
//He's not on our side. He's setting us up. The tide's turned again, and he's gone back to his master.// They always did. Once a snake, always a snake. //
And when, exactly, was this training supposed to start? And would his ranks be full of children? Was he supposed to send children off to die? *He* had a heart. Not that they'd care.
War. What did they know about war? They were far removed from the last. But he remembered. He had relived it, for twelve years. Each and every atrocity played over in his mind, again and again. He couldn't shake them, couldn't let go. He was the only one who *understood*.
They were going to die.
And none of them cared.
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