CHAPTER EIGHT - The Beginning.
THE BOY-WHO-LIVED ALIVE!
HARRY POTTER KIDNAPPED BY SIRIUS BLACK!
SERIAL MURDERER KIDNAPPED BOY-WHO-LIVED!
HARRY POTTER ALIVE AND WITH SIRIUS BLACK!
The headlines screamed all across the world; no country did not know of the revelation, all the countries had reared their heads in a furious search for the murderer and the saviour.
Fear was everywhere, in the air, in the earth, in the faces of the people as they scurried about, searching faces fleetingly and hurrying away.
Sirius Black had gathered a dangerous following, he had blown up Magnes Harbour, one of the biggest trading ports in the world, he had Harry Potter, the one child who could possibly save the world from yet another madman.
A boy said to be possessed of a power so great as to be able to defeat the most powerful wizard of the century - had been, perhaps, brain-washed by that self-same man's second in command.
No, the world was no longer a safe place.
In the space of less than two weeks, the world was wrought with the same amount of fear that there had been during the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named
And one more event was set to rock the world.
It was beautiful to those gathered on a lonely shore, their faces set and dangerous.
A few miles away was the famed and feared wizarding prison of Azkaban.
-------------------------
Looking out the barred window was one woman and one man, faces haggard and blank, yet almost hopeful.
Time had come.
It was to be so much more enjoyable than the last time.
---------------------- Dear Diary,
Brazil. South America.
Perhaps the safest place for the hunted man and child. Despite the fear that had taken over the rest of the world, Brazil's people have determinedly kept on dancing and making music in preparation of their famed annual carnivale.
Of course, they still keep a wary eye out, and the magical people never go out without their wands. The muggles are beginning to sense the fear of the world, soon, there would be no secrets between the two worlds, perhaps that was the aim of the ones who attacked Magnes Harbour.
Many still hopelessly believe that this will all blow over like the last time, that some unknown saviour shall appear from nowhere and make all the bad things go away. Not so this time.
I feel it in my old bones, the world is on the brink of a cliff, teetering on the edge of something so chaotic, so different from any way of life leading back to prehistoric times that no-one, not even my dear brother, will, be prepared for it.
No, not even I. I have my theories, my beliefs, my suspicions, but if the time comes, I will be as lost as anyone. Perhaps it is for the better, perhaps the world does need a cataclysmic change, but to have such a change wrought by such people?
No good will come of it.
--
The bald, bearded and blue-eyed man who had so shocked those in Diagon Alley earlier carefully tilted his quill upwards so as not to smear the page.
He shrewdly scanned it before covering it with a sheet of drying paper and turning to face his window.
No, no good at all.
------------------
Out on the lone, cold, roiling ocean, a huge, sleek, dark boat cut though the rolling waves, proud nose lifting into the air on every roll, before slamming back into the cold merciless ocean. Inside the over-sized speed boat sat forty of the world's most dangerous men and women. Sitting in the front of the boat were the fifteen men and women who had just performed the largest and most world-changing breakout in the history of the world.
Trailing behind the fast boat was barge, and on that barge a great multitude of ominous, forbidding cloaked figures drifted about in the mist.
Azkaban had been broken.
--------------------
The Brazilian man's head turned to look as he heard approaching footsteps, the people who had been playing according to his instructions carried on on their own, today's practise was only a rehearsal and everyone knew their parts.
The clamour and noise might have made any onlooker wonder how the man had heard such a quiet noise as footsteps, but the man had been teaching music like this for so long that if it wasn't playing in the background he might have been hard-pressed to actually notice anything.
It was a man and a young boy. Both were dark haired and the man had his hand protectively on the boy;s shoulder as they approached.
The man smiled when he noticed that the Brazilian man was looking, and though the smile seemed a little sad and worn, the music director smiled warmly back.
"Hello, friend, what can I do for you?" The Brazilian man said happily, placing his hands on his wide hips, the long stick he had been using as a conductor dangling between his index and middle fingers.
Sirius's smile widened to a grin, the language spell he had cast on himself worked perfectly, he could understand what the man was saying perfectly, now for the second test.
"Hello, my name is Jonathon Yuller, I was wondering if my godson could join your classes?" Ah, perfect, he could speak the language too.
The Brazilian man's smile never wavered, though his eyes were warily watching the stranger, one could never be too careful nowadays. "But of course! Does he have any experience?"
"A bit, he plays the drums and can hold a fair beat. But he only speaks english, I've brought him over here for an extended holiday, you see."
"Ah, of course, by the way, my name is Michealio, call me Mike." The man had been wondering why the young boy had been looking up at them so bemusedly, and so he switched to english. "Hello, little one, I understand you wish to join my music classes?"
The boy nodded emphatically.
"What is your name?"
"Harry, sir."
A FEW WEEKS LATER
"Do you remember what I taught you about the basics of magic, Harry?"
They were sitting in the small, modest apartment Sirius had rented for them, in two second-hand arm chairs in front of an empty fireplace. Harry was sitting in a lotus position, the over-stuffed chair engulfing his lean frame. He nodded solemnly, green eyes lit with curiousity.
"That we have magic inside of us, but that magic needs to have a magical element to focus through to understand our needs and wishes and so to do what we want." He said, the words coming out with the exact same nuances and tones Sirius always used when he told Harry.
"And remember how I promised I would get you a wand and teach you real magic when you were old enough?"
"Ya-huh."
"And you know all the bad things that have been happening and they think that it's me doing them?"
"Ya." This time a more serious voice.
"Well, that means I can't get you a wand yet because every wand store - and pretty much every other store - is looking out for a man and a young child like you and me."
"But can't you just put a glamour on like you did at that other shop?" Harry's eyes were huge and limpid, why couldn't he get a wand? This was the day he had dreamed about in his sleep, the day when he could try and be like Padfoot and do cool magicks and see what the big deal was all about.
"No." Sirius's voice was tired, "Almost every shop nowadays has an anti-glamour charm on the door, especially since Azkaban was broken out of. With so many real dangerous criminals at large, no-one can take chances. We're just lucky that Brazil isn't as fussed about it as all the other places."
"Oh."
The sad, almost devastated tone of Harry's voice broke Sirius's heart. Harry had always wanted a wand, ever since he found out about magic he hadn't been able to contain his excitement about exploring this amazing 'toy' that Sirius seemed to be able to do so many things with.
"But I can teach a different kind of magic."
"What?" The change in Harry was amazing, his slumped figure straightened as he flipped his long, dark hair out of his eyes and unfolded his legs, swinging them over the edge of the chair. "What kind?!"
"Special magic." Sirius grinned at Harry's puzzled gaze.
"You know how you make things happen accidentally happen when you're angry, sad, happy and so on."
"Yeah, but I can't make that stuff do what I want it to do." Harry looked balefully at Sirius, if that was the kind of magic Sirius had been getting his hopes up about...
"I can teach you how to control that."
Harry was still sceptical, he pulled at an almost-dreadlocked piece of hair as he narrowed his eyes at Sirius. "You sure 'bout that?"
"Well, how about we start now?"
"Pa'foo' I have dance class soon."
"Don't matter, I'll just start teaching you how to concentrate."
Harry's face contorted into a mask of horror at the dreaded 'C' word. "Concentrate?" He whispered in a terrified voice.
"Focus, meditate, breathe, relax, understand." Sirius hurriedly filled the silence with many other words.
Harry raised an eyebrow, a skill he had worked very hard at, and pursed his lips.
"Okay then." He sighed heavily, as if about to make a huge sacrifice, "I guess magic in return for concentration might be worth it."
"Right, now, remember that special feeling you get just when something magical happens when you're feeling strongly?"
"Yup."
"I want you to sit comfortably and think of that feeling, and nothing else."
Harry loved that special feeling; he had no trouble at all remembering it at all, it was like the thrill of thunder rumbling through your being, of fire dancing in your fingertips, of a wave of something that built inside of him until it suddenly released.
He smiled as he closed his eyes, thinking of that feeling.
Sirius watched as Harry sat on the ground for minutes on end. In truth, he was shocked, he had never seen Harry this ... quiet before. His godson's face, usually so animated, had fallen still, the last traces of baby-fat giving his cheeks a full roundness. A smile lurked around the boy's mouth, darting around furtively from corner to corner and occasionally lifting his mouth.
Sirius checked his watch, and realized with a shock that twenty minutes had passed. "Harry! You'll be late!"
Harry's green eyes snapped open as he clambered to his feet hurriedly, "Well hurry up then!" He exclaimed, making for the door, but threw a reproachful glare over his shoulder, "I expect more time next time." He said primly, with the self-assuredness of a young child, and walked out the door.
-------------------------------
Bellatrix Lestrange sat to the left of the head of the table, a few seats down from it. eyes no longer heavily hooded and sallow from hunger and lack of sleep, but darkly alive, brimming with newly-re-found power. She cast appreciative eyes down the heavily ornate table, and the people seated at it. Each had an aura of power, that was for sure, and many, if not all, wore expensive and magnificent body adornments, the finest silks of Arabia, the softest, most svelte satin, gold and silver that was brimming with finely shaped rare stones.
These were the people who had once made up the highest inner circle of the Dark Lord.
At the head of the table, in all his glory, sat Lucius Malfoy.
"Welcome, friends, and I thank you for your faith to me in accepting my invitation tonight."
There was polite, scattered applause.
The tall man smirked, "I believe you have all heard of the attack on Magnes Harbor and the break-out of Azkaban Prison by now?"
Louder, slightly more enthusiastic applause.
"Thank you. You are here tonight to either join me and restore yourselves to your old power and riches, or leave, and fade into existing again. I believe that we can build what the Dark Lord built once again, and this time succeed!"
His assuredness could only come from a plan, everyone seated knew, and everyone knew that he would not disclose this plan to them until he was sure of their loyalty.
"Anyone who wishes to leave may do so now."
There was a long pause, in which Bellatrix tossed her short hair (which she had cropped after seeing it's state from Azkaban) imperiously and tapped her long, sharp nails impatiently across the heavy wood of the table.
No-one left.
Gods, she couldn't stand that self-satisfied smile of his.
"Will you all kindly join me in the Drawing Room. Bellatrix, Narcissa, perhaps you should stay here and talk, for old time's sake."
Bellatrix fumed inwardly, so women weren't good enough to hear the plans now? The Dark Lord had always favoured her, and playing second fiddle to the rest of the men was unbearable to her.
But she smiled demurely and looked down, "Of course, you are too kind Lucius."
He swept from the room, and Bellatrix turned to her sister in the now-empty room.
She looked icily back, long blonde hair glittering in the fire-light.
"Cissa."
"Bella."
-
Long into the night did the men talk. And long into the night did the tinkling laugh of a beautiful, blonde-haired ice queen and the low soft purring chuckle of a darkly seductive witch echo through the grand dining room.
-----
A/N Gods, I thought I'd never get that done. Sorry for the long wait. Did you guys like it? looks up I'm not sure I did. nn
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, I need them, truely, even just one or two words seriously makes my whole day seem better and helps to vanquish writers block. Thank you again.
btw, I am going to write a list of everyone who has reviewed and return with my own comments one of these days, but at the moment I just don't have enough time, sorry all.
THE BOY-WHO-LIVED ALIVE!
HARRY POTTER KIDNAPPED BY SIRIUS BLACK!
SERIAL MURDERER KIDNAPPED BOY-WHO-LIVED!
HARRY POTTER ALIVE AND WITH SIRIUS BLACK!
The headlines screamed all across the world; no country did not know of the revelation, all the countries had reared their heads in a furious search for the murderer and the saviour.
Fear was everywhere, in the air, in the earth, in the faces of the people as they scurried about, searching faces fleetingly and hurrying away.
Sirius Black had gathered a dangerous following, he had blown up Magnes Harbour, one of the biggest trading ports in the world, he had Harry Potter, the one child who could possibly save the world from yet another madman.
A boy said to be possessed of a power so great as to be able to defeat the most powerful wizard of the century - had been, perhaps, brain-washed by that self-same man's second in command.
No, the world was no longer a safe place.
In the space of less than two weeks, the world was wrought with the same amount of fear that there had been during the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named
And one more event was set to rock the world.
It was beautiful to those gathered on a lonely shore, their faces set and dangerous.
A few miles away was the famed and feared wizarding prison of Azkaban.
-------------------------
Looking out the barred window was one woman and one man, faces haggard and blank, yet almost hopeful.
Time had come.
It was to be so much more enjoyable than the last time.
---------------------- Dear Diary,
Brazil. South America.
Perhaps the safest place for the hunted man and child. Despite the fear that had taken over the rest of the world, Brazil's people have determinedly kept on dancing and making music in preparation of their famed annual carnivale.
Of course, they still keep a wary eye out, and the magical people never go out without their wands. The muggles are beginning to sense the fear of the world, soon, there would be no secrets between the two worlds, perhaps that was the aim of the ones who attacked Magnes Harbour.
Many still hopelessly believe that this will all blow over like the last time, that some unknown saviour shall appear from nowhere and make all the bad things go away. Not so this time.
I feel it in my old bones, the world is on the brink of a cliff, teetering on the edge of something so chaotic, so different from any way of life leading back to prehistoric times that no-one, not even my dear brother, will, be prepared for it.
No, not even I. I have my theories, my beliefs, my suspicions, but if the time comes, I will be as lost as anyone. Perhaps it is for the better, perhaps the world does need a cataclysmic change, but to have such a change wrought by such people?
No good will come of it.
--
The bald, bearded and blue-eyed man who had so shocked those in Diagon Alley earlier carefully tilted his quill upwards so as not to smear the page.
He shrewdly scanned it before covering it with a sheet of drying paper and turning to face his window.
No, no good at all.
------------------
Out on the lone, cold, roiling ocean, a huge, sleek, dark boat cut though the rolling waves, proud nose lifting into the air on every roll, before slamming back into the cold merciless ocean. Inside the over-sized speed boat sat forty of the world's most dangerous men and women. Sitting in the front of the boat were the fifteen men and women who had just performed the largest and most world-changing breakout in the history of the world.
Trailing behind the fast boat was barge, and on that barge a great multitude of ominous, forbidding cloaked figures drifted about in the mist.
Azkaban had been broken.
--------------------
The Brazilian man's head turned to look as he heard approaching footsteps, the people who had been playing according to his instructions carried on on their own, today's practise was only a rehearsal and everyone knew their parts.
The clamour and noise might have made any onlooker wonder how the man had heard such a quiet noise as footsteps, but the man had been teaching music like this for so long that if it wasn't playing in the background he might have been hard-pressed to actually notice anything.
It was a man and a young boy. Both were dark haired and the man had his hand protectively on the boy;s shoulder as they approached.
The man smiled when he noticed that the Brazilian man was looking, and though the smile seemed a little sad and worn, the music director smiled warmly back.
"Hello, friend, what can I do for you?" The Brazilian man said happily, placing his hands on his wide hips, the long stick he had been using as a conductor dangling between his index and middle fingers.
Sirius's smile widened to a grin, the language spell he had cast on himself worked perfectly, he could understand what the man was saying perfectly, now for the second test.
"Hello, my name is Jonathon Yuller, I was wondering if my godson could join your classes?" Ah, perfect, he could speak the language too.
The Brazilian man's smile never wavered, though his eyes were warily watching the stranger, one could never be too careful nowadays. "But of course! Does he have any experience?"
"A bit, he plays the drums and can hold a fair beat. But he only speaks english, I've brought him over here for an extended holiday, you see."
"Ah, of course, by the way, my name is Michealio, call me Mike." The man had been wondering why the young boy had been looking up at them so bemusedly, and so he switched to english. "Hello, little one, I understand you wish to join my music classes?"
The boy nodded emphatically.
"What is your name?"
"Harry, sir."
A FEW WEEKS LATER
"Do you remember what I taught you about the basics of magic, Harry?"
They were sitting in the small, modest apartment Sirius had rented for them, in two second-hand arm chairs in front of an empty fireplace. Harry was sitting in a lotus position, the over-stuffed chair engulfing his lean frame. He nodded solemnly, green eyes lit with curiousity.
"That we have magic inside of us, but that magic needs to have a magical element to focus through to understand our needs and wishes and so to do what we want." He said, the words coming out with the exact same nuances and tones Sirius always used when he told Harry.
"And remember how I promised I would get you a wand and teach you real magic when you were old enough?"
"Ya-huh."
"And you know all the bad things that have been happening and they think that it's me doing them?"
"Ya." This time a more serious voice.
"Well, that means I can't get you a wand yet because every wand store - and pretty much every other store - is looking out for a man and a young child like you and me."
"But can't you just put a glamour on like you did at that other shop?" Harry's eyes were huge and limpid, why couldn't he get a wand? This was the day he had dreamed about in his sleep, the day when he could try and be like Padfoot and do cool magicks and see what the big deal was all about.
"No." Sirius's voice was tired, "Almost every shop nowadays has an anti-glamour charm on the door, especially since Azkaban was broken out of. With so many real dangerous criminals at large, no-one can take chances. We're just lucky that Brazil isn't as fussed about it as all the other places."
"Oh."
The sad, almost devastated tone of Harry's voice broke Sirius's heart. Harry had always wanted a wand, ever since he found out about magic he hadn't been able to contain his excitement about exploring this amazing 'toy' that Sirius seemed to be able to do so many things with.
"But I can teach a different kind of magic."
"What?" The change in Harry was amazing, his slumped figure straightened as he flipped his long, dark hair out of his eyes and unfolded his legs, swinging them over the edge of the chair. "What kind?!"
"Special magic." Sirius grinned at Harry's puzzled gaze.
"You know how you make things happen accidentally happen when you're angry, sad, happy and so on."
"Yeah, but I can't make that stuff do what I want it to do." Harry looked balefully at Sirius, if that was the kind of magic Sirius had been getting his hopes up about...
"I can teach you how to control that."
Harry was still sceptical, he pulled at an almost-dreadlocked piece of hair as he narrowed his eyes at Sirius. "You sure 'bout that?"
"Well, how about we start now?"
"Pa'foo' I have dance class soon."
"Don't matter, I'll just start teaching you how to concentrate."
Harry's face contorted into a mask of horror at the dreaded 'C' word. "Concentrate?" He whispered in a terrified voice.
"Focus, meditate, breathe, relax, understand." Sirius hurriedly filled the silence with many other words.
Harry raised an eyebrow, a skill he had worked very hard at, and pursed his lips.
"Okay then." He sighed heavily, as if about to make a huge sacrifice, "I guess magic in return for concentration might be worth it."
"Right, now, remember that special feeling you get just when something magical happens when you're feeling strongly?"
"Yup."
"I want you to sit comfortably and think of that feeling, and nothing else."
Harry loved that special feeling; he had no trouble at all remembering it at all, it was like the thrill of thunder rumbling through your being, of fire dancing in your fingertips, of a wave of something that built inside of him until it suddenly released.
He smiled as he closed his eyes, thinking of that feeling.
Sirius watched as Harry sat on the ground for minutes on end. In truth, he was shocked, he had never seen Harry this ... quiet before. His godson's face, usually so animated, had fallen still, the last traces of baby-fat giving his cheeks a full roundness. A smile lurked around the boy's mouth, darting around furtively from corner to corner and occasionally lifting his mouth.
Sirius checked his watch, and realized with a shock that twenty minutes had passed. "Harry! You'll be late!"
Harry's green eyes snapped open as he clambered to his feet hurriedly, "Well hurry up then!" He exclaimed, making for the door, but threw a reproachful glare over his shoulder, "I expect more time next time." He said primly, with the self-assuredness of a young child, and walked out the door.
-------------------------------
Bellatrix Lestrange sat to the left of the head of the table, a few seats down from it. eyes no longer heavily hooded and sallow from hunger and lack of sleep, but darkly alive, brimming with newly-re-found power. She cast appreciative eyes down the heavily ornate table, and the people seated at it. Each had an aura of power, that was for sure, and many, if not all, wore expensive and magnificent body adornments, the finest silks of Arabia, the softest, most svelte satin, gold and silver that was brimming with finely shaped rare stones.
These were the people who had once made up the highest inner circle of the Dark Lord.
At the head of the table, in all his glory, sat Lucius Malfoy.
"Welcome, friends, and I thank you for your faith to me in accepting my invitation tonight."
There was polite, scattered applause.
The tall man smirked, "I believe you have all heard of the attack on Magnes Harbor and the break-out of Azkaban Prison by now?"
Louder, slightly more enthusiastic applause.
"Thank you. You are here tonight to either join me and restore yourselves to your old power and riches, or leave, and fade into existing again. I believe that we can build what the Dark Lord built once again, and this time succeed!"
His assuredness could only come from a plan, everyone seated knew, and everyone knew that he would not disclose this plan to them until he was sure of their loyalty.
"Anyone who wishes to leave may do so now."
There was a long pause, in which Bellatrix tossed her short hair (which she had cropped after seeing it's state from Azkaban) imperiously and tapped her long, sharp nails impatiently across the heavy wood of the table.
No-one left.
Gods, she couldn't stand that self-satisfied smile of his.
"Will you all kindly join me in the Drawing Room. Bellatrix, Narcissa, perhaps you should stay here and talk, for old time's sake."
Bellatrix fumed inwardly, so women weren't good enough to hear the plans now? The Dark Lord had always favoured her, and playing second fiddle to the rest of the men was unbearable to her.
But she smiled demurely and looked down, "Of course, you are too kind Lucius."
He swept from the room, and Bellatrix turned to her sister in the now-empty room.
She looked icily back, long blonde hair glittering in the fire-light.
"Cissa."
"Bella."
-
Long into the night did the men talk. And long into the night did the tinkling laugh of a beautiful, blonde-haired ice queen and the low soft purring chuckle of a darkly seductive witch echo through the grand dining room.
-----
A/N Gods, I thought I'd never get that done. Sorry for the long wait. Did you guys like it? looks up I'm not sure I did. nn
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, I need them, truely, even just one or two words seriously makes my whole day seem better and helps to vanquish writers block. Thank you again.
btw, I am going to write a list of everyone who has reviewed and return with my own comments one of these days, but at the moment I just don't have enough time, sorry all.