Part 4: How Fragile We Are
"…their loss has cut us deeper than we will ever know. But their sacrifice for the good of the Light shall not be in vain …"
"Arthur! Arthur, come to the fire, quick!"
"Shush, Molly what in the world are you …?"
"Oh, Merlin, Arthur! Not them, oh God no!"
"Dad, what's going on? What's Fudge talking about?"
"Ron! Get your brothers and sister! Come in here now!"
* * *
"… Indeed, their noble and valiant last stand will be an example to us all in our constant struggle against those who would destroy our way of life. Young Harry Potter, who had barely begun to live is indeed one of …"
"I'm back, Minerva …"
"Oh, hello, Severus. I trust Master was pleased?"
"As happy as that worm can ever be."
"Then there's no hope at all, is there?"
"No. There can be no doubt that they are dead. He wouldn't make a mistake to leave them alive, and… here, Minerva. Have my handkerchief."
* * *
"How was your day, Hermione?"
"It was fine. Ron owled me two days ago and …"
"David, did you see this on the news today? They say it was a terrible gas explosion."
"Yeah I did. Killed two people just across town."
"What happened, Mum? Turn up the television, I can't hear what they're saying."
* * *
"… We will rise up and crush the rebel band of Death Eaters who have done this. The Boy Who Lived will always be in our hearts as long as the Light shines through. This is your Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, saying good night and Merlin watch over us all in these sad times."
A lone man, bereft of family to comfort him, bereft of friends to gather with, bereft of all, sat huddled by the fireplace watching with large gray-blue eyes. He was unable to look away from the fire as though he would miss the punchline if he did. No tears adorned his handsome, but prematurely aged face for some sorrows had no such easy outlet. Some sorrow was beyond all tears. Illness racked his body and the date circled in blue on the calendar finally drew to a close.
The doors were all locked and secured tight that night with enchantments so strong, none but the man himself could undo them. Wolf's Haven was a veritable fortress and as the moon sailed across the sky, the creature that dwelt inside, locked in the basement, howled more than usual. It was cold and dark in that cellar by itself. The wolf cried and wailed for its three playmates, angry to be left behind as the last, and this time, the human within did nothing to try to sate the beast. He let it howl. And he let it scratch and bite itself. And he let it throw itself against the metal doors. And he let the silver hang from the ceiling and exits. And he let the sickness rage on.
* * *
Fudge's face disappeared from the fireplaces of every witch and wizard in Britain turning from his own fire slowly. He knew what the people would be thinking. Everyone would be pointing fingers at Voldemort and whatever stability he had built in the past 13 years would be lost.
A young hit-wizard ran up to him, carrying some parchment. He was panting lightly since he had run all the way from the next Ministry building.
"Minister," he gasped, holding the parchment out to him, "Our final report."
Fudge took it from him and skimmed it over. At one paragraph he paused and stared at the young man intently, "What does this mean? No trace …"
"Exactly that, Sir," he said defensively, "We searched the place over and it's like they vanished, or were never there. The Death Eaters must have disposed of the bodies somewhere else. But the Killing Curse was used… nothing could have survived those explosions even if they dodged the Avada Kedavra. And the Dark Mark is still there; clear as day. Not even fading."
"It doesn't make sense," Dumbledore said from behind the two men. He lightly dusted off the ash from Fudge's fire.
"I didn't hear you enter, Headmaster," Fudge said, a thin smile on his face. Dumbledore seemed not to notice the less than warm welcome.
"Why would the Death Eaters not leave the bodies?" continued Dumbledore, "That's not like them. In the old days, they would leave the bodies behind as a warning. And young Derios… I don't trust him."
"But everything he told us is found to be true, Dumbledore," Fudge said, irritated, "You are looking for conspiracies that aren't there." He looked back to the parchment, "This will do fine. The Death Eaters must have taken or destroyed the bodies so they wouldn't be traced."
"Or returned them to their master," Dumbledore muttered quietly. Fudge gave him a scalding look, "Come now, Cornelius. Voldemort has made his presence quite obvious, even more obvious than the Tournament. The people need a leader who will not turn a blind eye on the deaths of two very important men in our cause."
"Stop with your ridiculous theories, Headmaster," Fudge snapped, "Return to your arena and leave me to mine."
"They were my second and third students to die in less than a year because of your blind ambition," Dumbledore seethed, his eyes narrowing dangerously behind his half moon spectacles, "I expect something will be done, Minister. Harry was not just a symbol for your damned administration. He was a boy. A boy who had a future with a godfather who loved him."
"I know what he was, Albus," snapped Fudge uneasily.
Dumbledore had a look on his face that betrayed his disgust, but he said nothing. He turned and returned to the fire, "Then if you don't mind, I'm off to find some way to protect 'my arena' from yours. Goodbye, Cornelius."
* * *
"Harry, come here for a moment." Javen indicated to a chair in front of his own. Obediently, Harry sat down, facing his new guardian. It had been 6 days since the attack at Manticore's Den, and he had not seen a glimmer of sunlight in all that time. Javen insisted that it was for his own protection, but that did not mean that he had to like it.
"What is it, Father?" asked Harry curiously. Javen had been making him practicing his dueling skills to occupy his hours. In 3 days he had learned nearly a dozen hexes and attacks. He didn't yet know why, but he hoped Javen would tell him.
"It has been nearly a week since the attack," Javen said gently, "Don't think I haven't noticed how preoccupied you are. You have yet to try to put it behind you. If we cannot form a bond with one another, then all my lessons and all your hard work will be for nothing." He drew his wand, "I suggest Contiosa Botaya. It will make everything so much easier for us both."
"Contiosa Botaya? What's that?" asked Harry.
"It's a fairly common spell used in families. It allows the two people to become more connected and act as a single being during duels. Very popular in the old days, during the first war against You-Know-Who." He hoped Harry would open up to this idea. This was a very difficult spell and needed the total concentration and willpower of both parties. So he hoped he was not pushing Harry too fast; he could not afford to lose him. But the boy was grieving deeply for his former guardian and Javen needed him to forget so he could advance Harry to the point where he was in proper condition to full-time training. And to get him to forget, Javen needed to get inside his head. And unless Harry allowed him to, he could not do that.
He was glad that Harry was not very familiar with wizarding families or he would know that this spell was forbidden to cast nowadays. The spell was too dangerous and if one died, then the other was in danger since their life forces were connected. It also gave the dominant person unlimited access to the other's thoughts with little to no restrictions.
Harry paused for a moment at the thought. He had never heard of this spell before, but certainly Javen meant no harm. All he wanted was to be closer to Harry and that was understandable. Whenever he found himself having second thoughts about Javen, he just had to remind himself of Sirius. He wanted to show that he respected Sirius' judgment and that he was an obedient charge.
"Shall we begin?" asked Javen, hiding his impatience. Harry took out his wand apprehensively; it was still warm from
the hours of dueling practice. Javen
instructed him quickly how to perform the spell and they began.
They crossed wands and chanted the words in complete unison. When they had chanted the words three times, a bright yellow mist formed from the place where the wands connected. Harry watched in mute fascination as the mist drifted upwards and thinned itself out so that each end connected their foreheads. His scar felt itchy, but he dared not lose his grip on his wand or break concentration.
The string between the two split in the center and receded into their heads. Harry saw Javen's eyes glow an eerie amber color and he guessed his green eyes also had the same reaction. Soon, the traces of the spell dissipated and Harry felt it was safe to break the concentration and wand link.
"Did it work?" he whispered hesitantly. Javen smiled at him. Not the kind smile he always associated with the young man, but a smile that seemed filled with satisfaction and triumph.
"We'll see, Harry. Open your mind to me. Let me in."
At first, Harry didn't understand. But then he found himself relaxing and clearing his mind of his worries. Javen's presence became even stronger as his own essence flowed into Harry's head. He panicked at first, associating this feeling with the Imperius Curse. It felt almost exactly the same, except that his sense of self wasn't lost with the arrival of the other. It was like a visitor just exploring. He relaxed his guard and allowed Javen to become accustomed to his mind. But Javen was just looking, not sharing anything. How were they supposed to become connected if the giving was only on one side? Sirius had never required anything like this from him.
"Of course it is different," Javen chided in his head, "You must stop comparing us, Harry. We are different people. We teach differently and that is how it should be. You must learn how to adjust or this is all in vain. I have so much to teach you if you would only let me…"
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, what?" Harry winced as Javen's disapproval shot through him.
"Yes, Father." He felt Javen's presence calm itself down. He found it was harder to use that word in his mind than physically. It still felt as wrong as the first time he tried using it a few days ago.
Javen continued his search of Harry's head until he knew everything. When Harry felt that he was not ready for Javen to see something, the man's silent will pushed through it. He had gained access to things that were very personal; things that made him vulnerable; things no one else knew. Cho, his guilt still lingering over Cedric, his fear of Dementors… Javen knew it all.
Somehow, Harry felt he should be receiving as much as he was giving. Perhaps something was wrong. "Father? I can't feel you. I don't see anything."
"Of course, Harry. Let me show you something." Harry was let into Javen's mind for a reciprocation of what just occurred. He was shown through various doors in his guardian's mind, though he was shut out of most of Javen's thoughts. He could see he was ambitious. Ambition was a good trait as long as it was used properly. Javen was also hungry for control and knowledge. Also possible admirable traits.
He felt entirely drained from head to toe. Was this how normal families bonded? He had never heard Ron speak of this, and surely Hermione would have mentioned it. Sirius surely had never demanded to know everything about his godson…
"I told you to stop comparing us, Harry!" Javen snapped, making Harry wince with the power he thrust his mental words with, "Don't you trust me? What good are all my efforts if you don't trust me?"
Harry felt sorry he had brought upon these feelings in Javen, "I'm sorry, Father. I do trust you. It's just hard."
"I know, son. But you must try harder." Javen's mental voice went back down to its soothing tone. The sharing finally ceased; leaving the two entirely exhausted. Javen nodded to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder, "Now, everything is right between us."
The boy nodded, not really feeling as though everything was right. It felt so wrong, but why would Javen do anything to harm him? He could trust him; he was the only one he could trust.
* * *
Sirius sighed in exhaustion and frustration. That damned Wormtail had cast a charm over him, leaving him stuck in his dog form. And between the random Cruciatus and Imperius Curses, his willpower was slowly leaving him. He knew that if given the chance, he could easily rip Peter's throat out and be done with it. Peter may be a poor excuse for a wizard, but he was not stupid. He fashioned a chain muzzle and leash for Sirius, and kept within yelling distance of the other Death Eaters in case anything should happen. He kept the dog in a half-drugged or tortured state almost constantly as well. He relished in his prize and became almost drunk in his superiority over his former best friend.
Sirius tried to lick a sore that was on his hind leg, but the muzzle and short leash prevented him from turning around. He was chained to the wall of Peter's small room, with the rat snoring away on his cot. Asleep, Wormtail didn't look nearly as evil as Sirius knew him to be. More like an ugly, overgrown, balding cherub. But looks were deceiving and it did not lessen Sirius' hatred for him. He could not even bring himself to feel pity for the wretched man when he was made fun of and tormented by the other Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort. The demise of the hated Boy Who Lived did nothing for improving Peter's popularity among the Death Eaters. They believed it was just dumb luck he even had his wand pointed in the right direction. He deserved every curse sent his way, Sirius thought angrily.
Since his enslavement, Sirius tried not to think of Harry. It was hard enough to convince himself that he needed to live without the knowledge that he killed Harry. And where was Javen or Remus? Surely they would be looking for him by now. When they found Harry's body and no trace of him, wouldn't they try to look for him? Remus certainly would.
The door to Wormtail's room opened and a tall black figure entered quietly. It would be so easy to race out the door before anyone noticed if only those damned chains weren't so tight on his neck and face. Sirius mentally groaned and placed his head between his paws. Patience, Padfoot. Your time will come. Just wait for the right opportunity. He repeated these phrases to himself like a mantra, knowing his temper and patience levels were not at their peak right now.
The figure roughly shook Peter as though the touch disgusted him. Wormtail jumped with fright and stared up at the figure. "What is it?" he asked in his usual nervous twitter.
"He wants to see you," the person answered curtly. Sirius' ears pricked. That couldn't be who he thought he was, was it? Had he really gone mad and was imagining it?
"Who?" Peter rubbed his eyes, looking very much like an overgrown baby.
"Our Master, stupid," the person snapped. Peter paled a few shades and scrambled out as fast as he could to meet his master's request. The robed person moved to leave, wrapping his Death Eater cloaks around him tightly.
'No!' Sirius let out a pitiful whine. 'Don't leave me!' The person paused and turned to him as though seeing him for the first time. Of course he wouldn't know that Sirius was here. He was in Voldemort's Inner Circle and they rarely associated with Wormtail if they could help it.
"That can't be …" Snape's voice was filled with shock and disbelief. Sirius let out a bark of the affirmative, silently vowing that if his old nemesis were to get him out of there, he would never have another harsh thing to say about him ever again.
Snape approached the dog, an odd expression on his face. Sirius' heart leaped in joy for the first time in the past 8 days. Even the trademark greasy hair and perpetual sneer was a welcome sight to the poor dog. Surely Snape would help him…
"Sirius Black," Snape said finally finding his voice. The dog yipped again and wagged his tail slightly. "Master of escape."
'What is he playing at? Peter could be back at any moment.' He struggled against the chains that held him. He had to get out now! He had to make Snape understand.
Snape's sneer returned to his face, "Well, well, well. This is an awkward situation. You were supposed to be dead. At least, that's what everyone told me. You and Potter both. I suppose I should forgive and help you like the noble person I am. But would you have done the same for me if roles were reversed?"
Sirius whined again. They could talk later. He had to be free from these Death Eaters. One could not get revenge if one was tied to the freaking wall!
"Why should I help you?" asked Snape, not getting any closer to the dog like he was revolting, "After all, you once tried to kill me. We have been enemies for our entire lives. I've no reason to bring you back to life and ruin that touching eulogy Fudge made for you two."
'Are you still on about that Whomping Willow prank? I'm sorry, then! Let me out!' The days of confinement, sorrow, and torture finally broke through the calm persona Sirius put over himself. He was nearly frantic now. All thoughts of patience and cool tempers were lost. He could hear movement above him. Why wouldn't the bloody git just let him out?!
"I rather like you here, Black. Besides, I would blow my cover if I were to accidentally let you go. Perhaps later, but not now." With that, Snape spun on his heel and glided out of the room, his sneer still on his face. Sirius continued barking and struggling with his chains. Damn, damn, DAMN him! No childhood grudge could be worth this. But he knew it was. Snape was ready to give him to the Dementors knowing he was innocent only a year and a half ago. Why did he expect this time would be any different just because his godson was dead and he was in danger?
His loud barking brought the presence of Wormtail. He was shaking slightly and Sirius had no doubt he had been experiencing the Cruciatus earlier. He had heard from one of the rat's mutterings how he had failed in something or other. Sirius had been drugged at the time, so he wasn't too sure what exactly had passed. Not that he was particularly interested anyway.
"Shut up, Padfoot!" yelled Peter pointing his wand at him shakily, "You'll just get us in trouble."
'Good, you stupid prat!' Sirius' barking got only louder. Somehow, the knowledge that everyone thought he was dead brought on a higher sense of determination to escape. He didn't care if everyone in the Riddle house heard him. He was angry. Angry at Snape. Angry at himself. Angry at the world for taking Harry away from him and placing him in this stinking mudhole.
"Pettigrew," a soft, angry voice hissed in warning. Sirius paused his barking spree to stare at the newcomer. It was that Malfoy git he had the misfortune of sharing Potions, Herbology, and Divination with at school. Behind him, the younger generation of Malfoy stood uneasily in his father's shadow. Young Draco, Sirius believed his name to be, looked out of place in his Death Eater robes. His normally calm exterior now betrayed his frayed nerves. He was probably just initiated, Sirius thought momentarily allowing himself to feel sorry for the boy.
"L--Lucius," sputtered Wormtail.
"We are trying to have a meeting upstairs, you miserable rat," seethed the elder Malfoy, "You may not be in the Inner Circle, but we are. So shut your bloody pet up or we will shut him up for you."
Sirius growled at Lucius and barked again in defiance. Who was he calling a 'bloody pet'?
"He's not my pet," Peter said, an ounce of pride coming into his voice, "That's Sirius Black. I took care of his brat and took him as my slave."
Sirius' hackles raised and he growled lower in hatred. If it was the last thing he did, he swore to kill Peter. Nothing, not even the vivid memory of a pleading 13-year old could save Wormtail now. He was vaguely aware that the boy named Draco was staring at him strangely. He was fidgeting even more and looked nervously at the dog, pale as the moon.
"Black?" snorted Lucius, "The Ministry said he was killed. That they found both him and the brat."
"Ask our lord, Lucius," Peter gloated, "He was the one who gave him to me." He held up his silver arm in emphasis, "Doesn't he ever give you gifts?"
"Unlike you, rat, I do not need to be bribed for my services. Come Draco." Lucius swept his son out of the door and slammed the door shut behind him.
Wormtail glared at Sirius, "I can dispose of you whenever I want, Padfoot. One more mess like that and I'll blow your bloody head off."
'I'd like to see you try, old friend,' Sirius thought raising his hackles again, 'And when I get out of here, it'll be your head that will roll.' He gave a harsh bark laugh to let the rat know exactly what he felt about him. Peter gave him one last scalding look before leaving the room. Sirius paced what little distance he could until his fiery temper was properly managed. He lay down again with his head on his paws. He could wait for as long as it took. After all, he was once again the responsibility-free Padfoot. No one to depend on him… and no one to care.
End Part 4
Woah, that was considerably darker, wasn't it? For those of you who have read this story before, do you recognize the new scenes I put in? And also for those who are ready to lynch me for not updating CV, the last chapter is up now. ^_^ BTW, I'm playing around with a new idea here. Don't kill me if it's a bad one, but I am an artist. As such I love the art of others. I was wondering if anyone could submit any of their artwork to me based off of my stories. It could be a contest and the winner could get the same thing that my 50th reviewers get. Good idea? Bad idea? Anyone up for it? Anyway, to the responses!
Darkphoenix: Swift and brutal retribution works too. I suppose he doesn't need ALL of his limbs, but… well, fine. You can take him home and torture him so long as he's back in one piece for his grand exit. And I'll take your word for it about chapter 2. I suppose you're right on those calls. And since I got my last chapter in at midnight, it still counts as Monday and so you have to leave me my big fat review now so nyah! :P Yes, I most certainly DO need all those limbs thank you very much! Peter was only in a position of power because A) he knew Sirius the best and could corner him easier B) Hey, who knows? Maybe he could die in the attempt? And C) He's not a COMPLETE moron. Any idiot can hold a wand straight.
Lily Skylo: See? I told you he wouldn't get killed off so easily. No one trusts me. Humph! I hope this chapter answers your questions, but if you have any more, let me know and I'll tell all.
Someone Reading: *Wakes up from faint * woah, that was trippy… *shakes head * ok, I'm up! Wow, I do hope I don't cause your family to worry about your health. You poor poor person, maybe this fic isn't good for you to read. Maybe you should stop reading it for your own good. Jk ^_^ Yeah, Sirius' Friend Radar is a bit faulty. It needs a tune up. But like Wormtail, he's known this guy for a good long while. Oh, he was definitely planning this all along, who do you think tipped off the DE's about Sirius and Harry's whereabouts? And yes, I believe if he had to, he would have killed him himself though he would not have allowed Harry to believe he did. He's bloody brilliant when it comes to things like that. Yeah, Sirius will not be the easiest to control. Wormtail pretty much has to give up on the slave bit and just keep him around like a trophy instead. And thanks for letting me aboard, matey! I'm liking the set up. The anchor is perfect. Lovin the chocolate and great great granddaddy in the living room. For all his bad talking about Sirius in the book, am I the only one who noticed how upset he was to learn that Sirius kicked the bucket? Where will we be settin our sails, cap'n? Drink up me hearties, yo ho! Sorry, too much Jack Sparrow. Hehehe
Vesper Lunen: I'm chugging em out as fast as I can edit em!