SECRET KEEPER
CHAPTER SEVEN
October 30, 1981
In a chamber adjourning the room that he had just left, Lucius Malfoy and two other Death Eaters, Bellatrix Lestrange (who was the sister of his wife, Narcissa) and Antonin Dolohov, were gathered around a small table pouring over a map of the Muggle suburbs.
"How can the Muggles use this bloody thing?" Dolohov complained loudly.
Lucius fixed his companion with an icy stare.
"Muggle invention though it may be," he said haughtily, "it is nothing but a simple map. I would it expect it to be within even your capabilites to read it, Dolohov."
Dolohov sneered in return. "As if you actually know how to use, it, Lucius—"
Lucius opened his mouth, about to offer a response to the other man's retort, when Bellatrix interrupted.
"There is no need for your petty arguments," she said coldly, one hand still resting on the open map.
Lucius' eyes flickered slightly from Dolohov to his sister-in-law, and then back, but wisely, he said nothing. All three Death Eaters turned back to the map that was unfurled before them, studying the intricate lines of all different colors and the various shapes and symbols that littered its ruled surface.
"I've found it," Bellatrix's cold voice announced proudly, breaking the silence between the three of them. She pointed to a spot on the map, her sharp fingernail making a tapping sound against the wood of the table. "Here's the road we're looking for."
The two men both peered over her shoulder to see the area that her finger was gesturing to.
"Perfect," Lucius said in his characteristic cold drawl. "Then let us go to number six, Chester Lane and pay our dear friend a visit..."
Sirius sighed dejectedly as he gazed at the Muggle clock hanging crookedly from a rusty nail that protruded from the shabbily decorated wall... it was nearly ten thirty at night. The boredom that hung over him was so thick that it was almost suffocating, and Sirius felt himself withdrawing from his physical being and letting his mind explore, wander. What was James doing? What was Lily doing? Had Remus found a job? How did he cope when it came time for his agonizing transformations? What about Peter? Wasn't Peter applying for some job at the Ministry? Had he been accepted? Sirius felt his mind sinking into a vaguely hazy state, what would almost be called a drunken stupor were it not for the fact that he had not touched a single drop of alcohol...
And not for lack of trying either, Sirius thought to himself wryly. I sure as hell wouldn't say no to a glass of firewhiskey right now.
He chuckled to himself over his feeble attempt at a joke, a last ditch effort to cheer himself up, but as he thought this, he realized more than ever that it was imperative that he was in his best condition; he couldn't afford to indulge in alcohol, not at a time like this—he had to be alert, on guard, ready to move... or did he? Was he just being paranoid? He tried to remove himself from the dreadful whirlpool that was his thoughts, but try as he might, he could not force himself to look at the situation from a strictly objective standpoint. He knew that he was probably worrying over nothing—after all, who would think to look for him in a place like this? Not even his friends, save Lily and James, would ever deduce that he was here, let alone some washed up Death Eater. And yet, even as he fought to reassure himself, even as he reminded himself—and rightly so—that the odds in this dangerous game were highly in his favor, a small part of him couldn't help but latch onto a sense of foreboding... that something was going to happen, and that it was inevitable. This small part of him that wouldn't let go of the irrational fear told him to run, run far away, but Sirius was too far within himself to move a muscle—he merely sat and thought.
Acting instinctively, he attempted to brush his bangs out of his face, as he always did when he was feeling worried or restless (or in this case, both), only to realize that this was quite possibly one of the more pointless things he had done lately, as his practically non-existent bangs weren't actually in his face in the first place—he was still sporting the short hairstyle that Lily had given him, albeit without the gel (he never could figure out how to use it). He ran his fingers through his hair—he was quite unused to the length (it was so short!) but had to admit that it was of some convenience not to have his hair always falling into his eyes. Perhaps the short cut was something he could get used to...
Great, he thought sarcastically to himself, interrupting his own train of thought. I'm now reduced to spending my time thinking about how to style my hair... next thing I know I'll be reading bloody Witch Weekly... damn. It was quite a depressing prospect. Sirius sighed again as he propped his elbows on his thighs and cradled his head in the palms of his hands, wondering where the hell his life had gone so wrong.
The first time that Lucius, Bellatrix, and Dolohov attempted to Apparate to six Chester Lane was not met with success.
"Ow," Dolohov exclaimed loudly as the three of them were thrown onto their backs.
Quickly righting himself, Lucius straightened his disheveled robes and quickly replaced the wince of pain on his face with his usual look of oily smoothness.
"Anti-Apparition charms," he said shortly, brushing dust off his sleeves. "Would be just like Black to think of something like that."
"Thank you for stating the obvious, Lucius," Bellatrix said coldly, tucking a strand of shiny dark hair behind her ear.
Lucius ignored his sister-in-law's remark and said, with no loss of dignity, "The question is, what are we going to do now?"
Bellatrix's dark eyes met his in a frigid stare. "It's simple, isn't it?"
"How so?"
Bellatrix summoned a rock off the ground with her wand.
"Portus."
Moments later, the three Death Eaters vanished.
He was bored.
In fact, he was not only bored, but he was bored. He was very bored. Besides that, he was also bored, and above and beyond all—he was so bored!
If he had not already lost his sanity (as everyone had always claimed), he was sure as hell losing it now.
Sirius had always fancied himself as being resourceful and very innovative when it came to finding ways to entertain himself (or was 'destructive' the adjective that he was looking for?). Now, however, he had completely exhausted his mental capacity in trying to keep himself amused. The result—he was dying of boredom.
It was rather funny—in school, Sirius had never been bored. There had always been teachers to annoy, people to prank, passages to explore, Slytherins to hex (he remembered Snivellus with a fond smile...). When there had been nothing to do, Sirius had always been the expert at making something to do. He was wild, he was energetic, he was creative—the 'life of the party', as Lily had often said (James, however, had not been nearly as complimentary: "A chimpanzee with trousers and a wand," he had said in describing his friend, though not without affection). He was not the one who let things happen; he was the one who made things happen. In fact, in almost ten years of his life, the word 'bored' had not even been a part of his vocabulary—there had always been a way to turn a lackluster situation into something funny (the one exception to this rule was Binns' History classes—nothing could have ever made those interesting). He suspected that his friendship with James contributed greatly to this; as Minerva McGonagall had once put it, "Where Potter and Black are, chaos and insanity inevitably follow."
Even chaos and insanity would have been better than the awful monotony of the past few days.
Sirius had even once resorted to passing the time by making shadow-puppets on his bedroom wall. He had only tried it once—he never tried it again.
When he had first arrived at six Chester Lane, Sirius had supposed that he would explore every nook and cranny of the house and examine all the gadgets; after all, Muggles were such fascinating people, and so creative as well (how else would they have invented something as remarkable as the motorbike?). He had been sorely disappointed; the house was filled with shelves of boring tomes, old book with titles such as A Tale of Two Cities (he had read two pages before slamming the books shut) and Jane Eyre (who wanted to read about an orphan girl's miserable childhood? His own pre-Hogwarts past was equally depressing, but a couple hundred times more interesting). Judging by the crispness of the paper and firmness of the binding, he conjectured that the books had never been read before—he scarcely needed to wonder why.
What Sirius Black didn't notice was that three shadowy figures had appeared out of nowhere across the street from the house in which he was currently residing.
"Stupid fool," Bellatrix snorted, looking at her surroundings with an expression of contempt. "As if anti-Apparition charms could really keep us away... it was all too easy to get here."
"Your cousin never was a smart one," Lucius agreed, his pale gray eyes sweeping around malevolently as he examined the numbers of each of the houses. He pocketed the Portkey in his robes. "It's that house. Number six."
He, Bellatrix, and Dolohov stalked quietly towards the front door of a plain, somewhat washed out looking house.
"Just like Black to choose to live in an old Muggle place like this," Bellatrix sneered.
Dolohov glanced over at his companion with amusement. "I find it so interesting that you address your own cousin by his surname."
"You would too if you had that for a cousin."
Lucius recalled Sirius Black as a boy: incredibly unmannered, extremely big-headed, terribly annoying—a blood-traitor who had no proper wizarding pride. Looking at the boy, it would have been hard to believe that he was even a pureblood, let alone a Black.
"Your aunt must have been devastated with him," Lucius commented.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes.
"There never was a day gone by when my aunt and uncle wouldn't complain about him." She wrapped her hand around the doorknob. "How he was ruining the family name, consorting with Mudbloods, letting his plethora of talents go to waste..."
She yanked on the door.
"It's locked."
"Allow me," Lucius interjected smoothly. "Alohomora!"
Nothing happened.
Bellatrix glanced disdainfully at her brother-in-law. "If he thought of anti-Apparition charms he obviously thought of that," she sniffed. "You'll have to break it open by force."
Lucius raised his wand...
BANG!
Sirius sat up with a jolt, jerking out of his reverie as he heard a loud splintering noise issuing from downstairs. It was undeniably the sound of a door being forced open. Nimbly, he dashed out of the room, and into the hallway, careful to keep his footsteps silent as he peered down the stairwell. Three figures clad in black robes and donning white masks were walking through his doorway, wands drawn and held in front of their faces in an ominous manner.
Death Eaters.
Oh Merlin! Sirius thought desperately. How had the Death Eaters managed to find him here, here of all places? Not that it mattered too much now. Now, the only thing that mattered was getting out of the house. Preferably alive.
He looked around, his eyes quickly darting from side to side as he scoped out his situation. There was nowhere to go, no exits save the door through which the Death Eaters had entered. He silently cursed himself for putting anti-Apparition charms on the house—what the hell was I thinking? For a moment, he wondered if he could make it to the fireplace and escape by Floo—he had brought some powder with him—but his hopes were dashed as he realized that the Muggle house wasn't connected to the Floo network. Frustration rising inside him, he bit down on his tongue in order to refrain from cursing aloud, as was his natural instinct. He wasn't exactly an advocator of clean language (as his friends knew all too well), but it wouldn't do for the Death Eaters to hear him, not yet. He knew he was stuck, trapped, but as long as the Death Eaters didn't know exactly where he was, he still had the element of surprise on his side. Not that it'll help much.
He peered down again. The three Death Eaters had already begun to climb up the stairs. Sirius scowled. Damn. They were coming closer and closer, and as good of a dueler as he was, he had some doubts that his skills were sufficient to take out three Death Eaters at once. His heart began to beat faster as the sound of the impending footsteps grew louder and louder. A wave of panic washed over him, and he felt the muscles in his arms and legs tighten. Where to go, where to go... Time seemed to be coming to a stop. It appeared as though he were left with only one option...
Quickly, he darted back into his makeshift bedroom. He dashed over to the window and with a swift thrust of his right leg, kicked it open, ignoring the shards of glass that rained down on him and cut into his skin as the pane shattered.
"What was that?" he heard one of the Death Eaters ask in a voice that was undoubtedly Lucius Malfoy's.
"It was Black!" a female voice shrieked.
Sirius groaned. The last person he needed to see right now was his Death Eater-cousin Bellatrix Lestrange, formerly Bellatrix Black, and one of the few he'd encountered that could ever best him in a duel.
The Death Eaters were now in the hallway and making their way towards Sirius' room. Sirius placed one hand on each side of the window and hoisted himself up, trying not to wince as some of the remaining glass fragments pierced the tender skin on the palms of his hands. He felt an odd constriction in his throat as he stood in the windowsill. As a young child, he had always had a strange habit of liking to stand in open windows—a habit that had always unnerved anyone who witnessed it. He didn't feel he was any different from those who enjoyed climbing trees—he liked the feel of the open air moving across his body, and the strange sense of liberation that it seemed to give him. But now was different; now was a matter of life and death, and he could not shake the heavy sensation of apprehension that draped itself over his shoulders. He looked out onto the slanting roof of the house and wondered if his balance was good enough to walk across it, jump off, run to the next house, and Apparate. I'll just have to find out the hard way. Gingerly, he placed one foot out in front of him and took a step forward. One wrong move and he would fall.
"He's climbing out the window!" shouted a male voice that Sirius didn't recognize.
"Yes, I realize that, Dolohov!" Malfoy hissed coldly. "And it's our job to make sure he doesn't escape that way!"
Sirius' shoulders tensed slightly as he heard this. Struggling to keep his balance, he tottered forward, determined to make it. If I can just get to the next house, he thought, I can Apparate on out of here. Feeling slightly more panicked now, Sirius began to move faster, his legs wobbling slightly as one of the shingles came loose under his left foot. Can't let them get me.
Malfoy, Bellatrix, and the man named Dolohov followed Sirius onto the roof.
"Give it up, Black!" Malfoy snarled, pointing his wand at the other man as he steadied himself with his other hand, grasping one of the top shingles of the sloping roof.
"Crucio!"
Sirius fought the instinct to roll his eyes. The man was entirely too predictable. Grasping part of the roof with his right hand in order to keep his balance, Sirius ducked as Malfoy's curse went whizzing by his shoulder, grazing the sleeve of his shirt and tearing a small gash into it. He rolled over slightly, his firm grip never leaving the roof as he shifted on his other side and reached for his wand in his back pocket with his left hand. His fingers curled around the handle, but before he could completely draw his wand from the pocket, he was forced to duck in order to avoid a Cruciatus curse from Dolohov.
He stumbled slightly as he lowered himself, skinning his knee and tearing a hole in his pants. Wincing, he whipped his wand out in front of him and sent a hex flying at the Death Eater who had tried to curse him—his aim was true.
"Ahh!" Dolohov yelled as he staggered backwards in pain, but he didn't fall. Sirius barely had time to smirk triumphantly when Malfoy and Bellatrix both tried to curse him simultaneously. Nimbly, he moved to one side and could hear loud cracking noises as both missed spells hit a tree off in the distance. He tried not to remind himself that that could have been him as he brandished his wand.
"Stupefy!"
He aimed his Stunning Spell so that if Malfoy dodged it, it would hit Bellatrix instead—to his delight and slight surprise, the tactic worked, and he watched as his cousin's body crumpled and went stiff. One down, two to go, he thought to himself, but he was sadly mistaken—even as he prepared to curse the other two Death Eaters, Malfoy had pulled Bellatrix's body into an upright position and-
"Ennervate!"
His head swiveling at the sound of the shouted spell, Sirius shot a couple of nasty hexes at Dolohov, groaning as he noticed that his stricken cousin had regained consciousness. Thinking quickly, he aimed his wand towards where both Malfoy and Bellatrix were standing side by side, intending to try to hit both of them at once, but before he could-
"Impedimenta!"
Dolohov's caucus voice rang through the air as he shot an Impediment Jinx at Sirius, who then raised his wand and cast the only spell he could think of.
"Protego!"
It wasn't really a very effective Shield Charm, but was better than nothing at all—he managed to avoid the brunt of the spell. He felt a sweeping gust of wind blow past the front of his body as the charm worked to deflect the spell. A small amount of impact hit him in the chest, winding him slightly and forcing him to stagger back a few steps, but he quickly recovered and steadied himself. He raised his wand arm again, prepared to fire more spells at the three Death Eaters. He had barely managed to choke out the incantation to a Stunning Spell, however, when Malfoy and Dolohov simultaneously shot Imperius Curses at him. Dodging, he quickly threw himself down, his right hip and knee grazing painfully on the wooden roof. He flung his arms out to steady himself and felt his fists make contact with the shingles on either side of him, a couple of splinters piercing into his skin. He craned his head slightly to the right trying to assess the amount of damage done to his hip, but this turned out to be a deadly mistake, because-
"Incendio!"
Bellatrix shot a stream of flames towards Sirius' left hand, which was still curled into a fist around his wand. Gasping in pain as the fire grazed his skin, he reflexively loosened his fingers, causing his wand to fall from his grip and roll down the angled roof, clanging as it hit the wooden shingles on its way towards the ground.
Shit. Holy shit. He swore very colorfully and creatively as he mentally berated himself for his stupidity. He was stuck on the roof of a Muggle house, barely able to stand up straight for fear of falling. He had three Death Eaters after him, numerous cuts and scratches over his skin, and a small burn on his left hand—and now to make matters worse, he was wand-less. If Lily could have heard the language he was using he would have been in very, very deep trouble, indeed.
Not that I'm not already in deep trouble, Sirius grumbled to himself as he dodged another Cruciatus Curse and two Stunning Spells, twisting his right ankle in the process. Biting his lower lip to keep from crying out in pain, he staggered slightly, but recovered, forcing his legs to carry him forward, toward the next house. He felt another wave of read hot pain shoot through his entire right side and up to the aching bone in his hip, which he was now fairly sure was dislocated. He was closer now—a few more feet and he would be able to leap over to the next rooftop and Apparate.
He took a few more bumbling steps towards the edge of the roof, narrowly avoiding being hit by a Stunning Spell and an Impediment Jinx.
"Trying to run away, are you, dear cousin?" Bellatrix's taunting voice floated towards him. "Don't delude yourself into thinking that you'll actually make it—but then again, you are pretty experienced in running away, aren't you? It's nothing that you haven't done before—just like the wimp that you are."
He knew that she was alluding to his leaving home when he was sixteen, and though he was quite proud of the fact, her reference to such a sensitive matter stung him more deeply than he was willing to admit—not because he in any way regretted leaving his family, but because she had used it to accuse him of bearing the one trait that she knew he hated most: cowardice.
"Fuck off, Bella," he shot back for lack of anything better to say; his shoulders tensed as his twisted ankle crumpled, and he sank into a partial collapse, further agitating his other injuries. His fingers were turning white from gripping the shingles of the roof in order to keep from falling off. Straining his arm muscles, he pulled himself into a standing position, but immediately realized that this was another bad mistake—his posture left his body vulnerable to attack, and without a wand, he could not defend himself against hexes that would be flung his way.
"Oooh, nice language you're using there, Sirius," Bellatrix sang mockingly as she raised her wand again. "Surely that isn't something you've picked up from all those Mudbloods and blood traitors you've been associating with?"
"I would rather associate with Muggle-borns and decent people than with the likes of you."
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Clearly, our ideas of what makes a person 'decent' are very different, wouldn't you say?"
"Like hell I would."
"You always were a blind fool—even when you were young."
"At least I'm not the one with my head shoved up my ass," Sirius retorted as he straightened and moved slightly to the right in order to avoid a Stunning Spell, but he had no sooner pulled himself upright before a jet of red light shot out from the end of Malfoy's wand, and Sirius had to bend over backward in order to avoid it... but as he did so he was forced to shift his weight onto his injured right foot... his hip ached in complaint, screaming in its socket... he felt his leg buckle in pain... his foot slipped out from under him... his back arched, almost painfully... he heard his cousin's triumphant shriek, heard Dolohov's shout of mirth... he saw Lucius Malfoy pull something out from inside his robes... a rock?
Sirius tumbled off the roof of number six, Chester Lane.
His body never hit the ground.
*
"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it... I thought it was the perfect plan... a bluff... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak talentless thing like you... It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."—Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Scholastic Edition, pg. 369