"Help Me Hurt You" chapter 4
The shaggy black dog burst from the secret passageway of the Whomping Willow and into the Shrieking Shack.
The dog began to howl, an eerie, throaty rumble of pain and anger resonated about the Shack. Slowly, the howl turned into a scratchy scream. No longer did it issue forth from the mangy muzzle of the dog, but through the cracked, chapped lips of Sirius Black.
Still screaming, Sirius began throttling every inanimate object in his path. He smashed a wooden rocking chair against a boarded window, then threw the splintered legs at a battered old grandfather clock. The dusty glass face shattered, and Sirius dragged his bare feet through the shards, unaware of the bloody footprints which now followed him like a shadow.
"IDIOT!" he yelled, loudly enough to roust several roof-roosting owls from their slumber.
"IDIOT!" he practically screeched, as he pounded his frail form against the bed chamber door. It flung open, spewing him onto the creaking floorboards in a sprawled heap.
His screams ceased abruptly. He was back in Azkaban. Back with the Dementors, living through his most horrible nightmares. This is what he had feared, and this is what had haunted him deeply. Remus not believing. Remus hating him.
But how could he not hate him? Wretched human being he was. He really did kill Lilly and James and all those muggles... who cares if Peter uttered the spell in the street, and Voldemort the one in Godric's Hollow? It was still his fault... if he hadn't switched with Peter...
Sirius' body went limp, his haunted eyes misted over and staring blankly at the ceiling. His state was nearly catatonic. Most of him was thankful for this apathy, since he was no longer being forced to deal with Remus in the present time. This was just a nightmare, a simple nightmare the Dementors unleashed upon him night after night after night. The rational part of him, on the contrary, which so often sounded like Remus ever since his school days was telling him that this was real, and that he was stupid to go into a torpor like this, even if it was only for an hour. Sirius was beyond recognition of this voice for the time being however, as his mind was wrapped up in a dirty grey cloth, wringing out any joy which may have escaped it earlier like soiled water. The cloth was no longer the will of the Dementor now that he was free, now it was the tattered hem of Remus' robe.
Several hours later, Sirius was awakened from his internal blankness by a mewl and a soft paw nudging at his nose.
"Cat..." he growled, lifting himself from the floor. The cat retreated slightly to give him room to sit, then pounced into his lap and began to lick at his sweaty face. Sirius growled again and pushed him off roughly, gaining his feet.
"Go back," he ordered the feline. "I have something to do." The cat stared at him malevolently through his amber eyes, seemingly still put out by Sirius' rough hand with him.
"Now." Sirius said, in a tone of utter finality. The cat sensed this, and quickly spun around and sped out of the room, but not before sending Sirius a defiant flick of the tail and a hiss.
Sirius sat on the canopy bed, waiting for the right moment to carry out the task he had come here to perform... the second part. Seeing as he had failed the first.
The bed cover was a moth eaten old thing, not good enough to pull duty as a tramp's shall. But he remembered when it had been new, procured by Dumbledore himself to keep Remus comfortable on the mornings after his transformation. How often had he and the rest of the Marauders lifted up Remus' torn body and placed it beneath the covers near day break before Poppy was due to arrive? They had all known that they were taking a chance by doing so. What would the nurse think when a boy lacking the energy to even lift his eyelids, somehow found the strength to tuck himself into bed comfortably each morning? Before the Marauders had become Animagi, Remus told them that Pomfrey would always levitate him into the bed to give him an energy draught before they returned to the castle. He said that she was always worried sick he may take on fever by lying on the cold floor. Remus had always found that rich. A werewolf being taken ill by severe fever.
Sirius shot up from the bed. It was time. He reached his hand in between the mattress and the floor board and brought forth a 9 inch butcher knife. Compliments of the muggle family which had left it impaled in a gruesome looking Jack 'O Lantern on their front porch. Stupidity thine origin is human.
The black dog trotted slowly and noiselessly across the grounds. All of the students and teachers would be preoccupied with the Hallowe'en feast, a perfect time for him to sneak into the school without being accosted. He rushed past the Dementors and into the castle, who overlooked this small disturbance. Too simple a mind and too drained of joy to provide a satisfactory meal anyways.
The dog's paws clicked softly on the marble floor of the Entrance Hall. He skidded past the Great Hall's open doors quickly as he was assaulted by noises of mirth and endless palaver. Up the thankfully carpeted stairs, and still not a being in site. Through a tapestry he had gone through countless times as a youth. But that was an era ago. And this was now. Again another staircase, dark corridors, candle brackets speckling his fur with dead orange light. Past a broom closet which had been a convenient place to bring a date for a bit of innocent snogging, another staircase, more malevolent orange light. Finally, Sirius emerged in the corridor which would take him to the Gryffindor Common room, if his memory served him right. Which it had.
The forever eternal Fat Lady sat in her frame, munching on chocolate liqueurs, spotting her faded pink dress with brown smudges.
And now, Sirius stood at the end of the hall, watching her. She was exactly the same. She always would be, even after so many things had changed. Blood began to boil in Sirius' thin veins, as he walked towards her slowly. The Fat Lady looked up from the blue foiled liqueur she was attempting to unwrap in her pudgy hands. It dropped along with her jaw.
"B-black!" she managed to accuse thickly through a mouth full of chocolate.
"Hello Fat Lady," Sirius said, with the air of a person greeting an old acquaintance. "Open." he demanded, in a much harsher tone.
The Lady was speechless. She swallowed the half chewed chocolate which was still melting on her tongue and managed to produce an odd, whiny moan mixed with a titter. It sounded a bit like an indignant budgey with a stomach ach.
Sirius took a step closer, and brought up his knife to eye level. "Now."
The Lady seemed to have found her voice and her Gryffindor courage. She lifted her chin into the air and fixed her hands onto her hips. "No. No Black, I would much prefer to see you detained then trying to kill out resident students."
There was almost an audible click in the air as Sirius' last thread of rationality snapped. His blood boiled and turned, his eyes misted over as he began to see red. "I'M NOT THE THREAT!" is what he wanted to yell at her, to get through her thick head, "IT'S NOT ME! IT'S PETTIGREW AND HE'S IN THERE RIGHT NOW! I CAN KILL HIM NOW! THE BASTARD WHO WAS MY FRIEND! THE BASTARD WHO MURDERED ALL OF MY FRIENDS!"
Instead, he could only articulate a large amount of screeching and intelligible words as he lifted the knife higher and began to slash at the Fat Lady's portrait.
The Lady screamed, and fled crying wildly from the mad man with the horrible look in his eyes.
Sirius continued to slash at the portrait long after he realized the Lady had left, only when he saw blood splattering his robes and tainting bits of the canvas did he stop his insane retribution against the innocent painting. Sirius looked at his hand, it was bleeding alright. He had been stabbing so furiously that he hadn't realized when the blade had slipped, lacerating his palm. His eyes cleared of mist, and he moaned softly. Stupid was this tenuous attempt at getting Peter. He realized it now, and now it was too late and all the castle would be alerted and he would just look even worse for the wear. He tucked the knife back into the tattered pocket of his robe slowly as if in a daze, then transformed back into the great black dog as he ran madly though the halls.
"Get out," was all he could think, "now now now now. Before they get you, before they learn, before you can kill Peter and tell Remus and save Harry. O but you have to do all that then let them kill you, let them take away all the hurt, but only after you finish what you started, don't be selfish now, live in the pain and let it make you stronger, like James and Lily were, and Harry and Remus are."
Outside. The dog was outside. And wasn't it great to be in the moonlight? O yes yes it was. It was great, grand. Remember the stag and the rat (bastard) and the wolf that would run with you? O yes, yes you do and it was just as grand as this.
Once more, Sirius burst into the shack. But this time, no tirade over furniture was carried out, instead, Sirius burst into laughter. And he laughed for a long, long time. Hard and deep, hysterical and genuine all mingled together with his madness and insanity. Finally at this moment, Sirius Black finally met the reputation which had heralded him for so many years; he was insane, and he hadn't felt better in an age.
A/N: Wow, so, I can't belive you read this... and I can't believe it's taken me so long to get out another chapter,,, sorry bout that, but I promise to spit out some more in better time if you review. Otherwise, I'll think it's crud and leave it at this... and I really don't want to... poor Siri...
The shaggy black dog burst from the secret passageway of the Whomping Willow and into the Shrieking Shack.
The dog began to howl, an eerie, throaty rumble of pain and anger resonated about the Shack. Slowly, the howl turned into a scratchy scream. No longer did it issue forth from the mangy muzzle of the dog, but through the cracked, chapped lips of Sirius Black.
Still screaming, Sirius began throttling every inanimate object in his path. He smashed a wooden rocking chair against a boarded window, then threw the splintered legs at a battered old grandfather clock. The dusty glass face shattered, and Sirius dragged his bare feet through the shards, unaware of the bloody footprints which now followed him like a shadow.
"IDIOT!" he yelled, loudly enough to roust several roof-roosting owls from their slumber.
"IDIOT!" he practically screeched, as he pounded his frail form against the bed chamber door. It flung open, spewing him onto the creaking floorboards in a sprawled heap.
His screams ceased abruptly. He was back in Azkaban. Back with the Dementors, living through his most horrible nightmares. This is what he had feared, and this is what had haunted him deeply. Remus not believing. Remus hating him.
But how could he not hate him? Wretched human being he was. He really did kill Lilly and James and all those muggles... who cares if Peter uttered the spell in the street, and Voldemort the one in Godric's Hollow? It was still his fault... if he hadn't switched with Peter...
Sirius' body went limp, his haunted eyes misted over and staring blankly at the ceiling. His state was nearly catatonic. Most of him was thankful for this apathy, since he was no longer being forced to deal with Remus in the present time. This was just a nightmare, a simple nightmare the Dementors unleashed upon him night after night after night. The rational part of him, on the contrary, which so often sounded like Remus ever since his school days was telling him that this was real, and that he was stupid to go into a torpor like this, even if it was only for an hour. Sirius was beyond recognition of this voice for the time being however, as his mind was wrapped up in a dirty grey cloth, wringing out any joy which may have escaped it earlier like soiled water. The cloth was no longer the will of the Dementor now that he was free, now it was the tattered hem of Remus' robe.
Several hours later, Sirius was awakened from his internal blankness by a mewl and a soft paw nudging at his nose.
"Cat..." he growled, lifting himself from the floor. The cat retreated slightly to give him room to sit, then pounced into his lap and began to lick at his sweaty face. Sirius growled again and pushed him off roughly, gaining his feet.
"Go back," he ordered the feline. "I have something to do." The cat stared at him malevolently through his amber eyes, seemingly still put out by Sirius' rough hand with him.
"Now." Sirius said, in a tone of utter finality. The cat sensed this, and quickly spun around and sped out of the room, but not before sending Sirius a defiant flick of the tail and a hiss.
Sirius sat on the canopy bed, waiting for the right moment to carry out the task he had come here to perform... the second part. Seeing as he had failed the first.
The bed cover was a moth eaten old thing, not good enough to pull duty as a tramp's shall. But he remembered when it had been new, procured by Dumbledore himself to keep Remus comfortable on the mornings after his transformation. How often had he and the rest of the Marauders lifted up Remus' torn body and placed it beneath the covers near day break before Poppy was due to arrive? They had all known that they were taking a chance by doing so. What would the nurse think when a boy lacking the energy to even lift his eyelids, somehow found the strength to tuck himself into bed comfortably each morning? Before the Marauders had become Animagi, Remus told them that Pomfrey would always levitate him into the bed to give him an energy draught before they returned to the castle. He said that she was always worried sick he may take on fever by lying on the cold floor. Remus had always found that rich. A werewolf being taken ill by severe fever.
Sirius shot up from the bed. It was time. He reached his hand in between the mattress and the floor board and brought forth a 9 inch butcher knife. Compliments of the muggle family which had left it impaled in a gruesome looking Jack 'O Lantern on their front porch. Stupidity thine origin is human.
The black dog trotted slowly and noiselessly across the grounds. All of the students and teachers would be preoccupied with the Hallowe'en feast, a perfect time for him to sneak into the school without being accosted. He rushed past the Dementors and into the castle, who overlooked this small disturbance. Too simple a mind and too drained of joy to provide a satisfactory meal anyways.
The dog's paws clicked softly on the marble floor of the Entrance Hall. He skidded past the Great Hall's open doors quickly as he was assaulted by noises of mirth and endless palaver. Up the thankfully carpeted stairs, and still not a being in site. Through a tapestry he had gone through countless times as a youth. But that was an era ago. And this was now. Again another staircase, dark corridors, candle brackets speckling his fur with dead orange light. Past a broom closet which had been a convenient place to bring a date for a bit of innocent snogging, another staircase, more malevolent orange light. Finally, Sirius emerged in the corridor which would take him to the Gryffindor Common room, if his memory served him right. Which it had.
The forever eternal Fat Lady sat in her frame, munching on chocolate liqueurs, spotting her faded pink dress with brown smudges.
And now, Sirius stood at the end of the hall, watching her. She was exactly the same. She always would be, even after so many things had changed. Blood began to boil in Sirius' thin veins, as he walked towards her slowly. The Fat Lady looked up from the blue foiled liqueur she was attempting to unwrap in her pudgy hands. It dropped along with her jaw.
"B-black!" she managed to accuse thickly through a mouth full of chocolate.
"Hello Fat Lady," Sirius said, with the air of a person greeting an old acquaintance. "Open." he demanded, in a much harsher tone.
The Lady was speechless. She swallowed the half chewed chocolate which was still melting on her tongue and managed to produce an odd, whiny moan mixed with a titter. It sounded a bit like an indignant budgey with a stomach ach.
Sirius took a step closer, and brought up his knife to eye level. "Now."
The Lady seemed to have found her voice and her Gryffindor courage. She lifted her chin into the air and fixed her hands onto her hips. "No. No Black, I would much prefer to see you detained then trying to kill out resident students."
There was almost an audible click in the air as Sirius' last thread of rationality snapped. His blood boiled and turned, his eyes misted over as he began to see red. "I'M NOT THE THREAT!" is what he wanted to yell at her, to get through her thick head, "IT'S NOT ME! IT'S PETTIGREW AND HE'S IN THERE RIGHT NOW! I CAN KILL HIM NOW! THE BASTARD WHO WAS MY FRIEND! THE BASTARD WHO MURDERED ALL OF MY FRIENDS!"
Instead, he could only articulate a large amount of screeching and intelligible words as he lifted the knife higher and began to slash at the Fat Lady's portrait.
The Lady screamed, and fled crying wildly from the mad man with the horrible look in his eyes.
Sirius continued to slash at the portrait long after he realized the Lady had left, only when he saw blood splattering his robes and tainting bits of the canvas did he stop his insane retribution against the innocent painting. Sirius looked at his hand, it was bleeding alright. He had been stabbing so furiously that he hadn't realized when the blade had slipped, lacerating his palm. His eyes cleared of mist, and he moaned softly. Stupid was this tenuous attempt at getting Peter. He realized it now, and now it was too late and all the castle would be alerted and he would just look even worse for the wear. He tucked the knife back into the tattered pocket of his robe slowly as if in a daze, then transformed back into the great black dog as he ran madly though the halls.
"Get out," was all he could think, "now now now now. Before they get you, before they learn, before you can kill Peter and tell Remus and save Harry. O but you have to do all that then let them kill you, let them take away all the hurt, but only after you finish what you started, don't be selfish now, live in the pain and let it make you stronger, like James and Lily were, and Harry and Remus are."
Outside. The dog was outside. And wasn't it great to be in the moonlight? O yes yes it was. It was great, grand. Remember the stag and the rat (bastard) and the wolf that would run with you? O yes, yes you do and it was just as grand as this.
Once more, Sirius burst into the shack. But this time, no tirade over furniture was carried out, instead, Sirius burst into laughter. And he laughed for a long, long time. Hard and deep, hysterical and genuine all mingled together with his madness and insanity. Finally at this moment, Sirius Black finally met the reputation which had heralded him for so many years; he was insane, and he hadn't felt better in an age.
A/N: Wow, so, I can't belive you read this... and I can't believe it's taken me so long to get out another chapter,,, sorry bout that, but I promise to spit out some more in better time if you review. Otherwise, I'll think it's crud and leave it at this... and I really don't want to... poor Siri...