Disclaimer: I own none of this, except that which you do not recognize. It all belongs to the great J.K Rowling, despite the fact that she went and killed off Sirius.
A/N: Okay, so things are still a little depressing in this chapter folks, but never fear – when you hit the bottom, there's nowhere to go but up. Anyhoo, Cassandra, if you're still reading this, here's your character!! And to everyone out there, be warned, I will be starting something in this chapter that is very cliché, but please, have patience, and just enjoy the story. So…
On with the Story!
Chapter 11: Voices in the Night
On a cold, clear December night, the wind howled through the trees and most everyone slept soundly in their beds. Other than the plaintive sounds of the wind in the alleyways of London, there were no other noises that dared disturb the peace of the night. At the end of a deserted street, a huge stone mansion stood imposingly behind gates that looked as if they had been locked for at least a century. The house was silent, dead, its empty windows staring onto the street like the empty eyes of someone who has seen and lost too much.
For a while, nothing moved except the occasional dry leaf rustling across the once grand courtyard. However, if one watched long enough, they would see a slim figure seemingly appear out of nowhere as it materialized from the shadows. Stepping into the moonlight, it was now clear that this person was a woman, a young woman, with hair braided back and dressed in sleek black clothes. She stood silently for a moment, then, just as suddenly as she'd appeared, strode over to a huge stone lion, one of two guarding the elegant front door. Moving behind it, she sunk quickly out of sight, and nothing more moved in the night.
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"Sarah!"
The tired young woman turned her head to locate the owner of the voice. She smiled as she saw whom it belonged to.
"Hey, Cass." She walked over to a tall, tawny-haired woman with laughing hazel eyes. "When did you get back in?"
"Back to England or back to the Mansion?" Cassandra replied, grinning at her younger friend.
"Knowing you, they probably occurred within hours of each other, but I'll go with the former." The two women turned a corner as they strode down long, wooden panelled hallways, eventually coming to a stop in front of the smooth metal door of an elevator. Stepping inside, they continued their conversation.
"Actually, I got back to England a week ago." Cassandra shrugged her shoulders. "I was all set to get back here on the double, but Michael told me to take some time off and see my family. Good thing too, really. I was too tired to jump into anything else. I'd probably have royally screwed something up. Speaking of tired, girl – you certainly look it."
"Nah," Sarah said, even as she was fighting back a yawn. "I'm fine."
Cassandra looked at her sceptically. To an outsider, it may have looked as if nothing was amiss with Sarah. Her curls were securely tied back in a long French braid and her black leather jumpsuit was immaculate. Her boots were clean, her back straight and her face calm and composed. Cassandra, however, had worked with Sarah several times over the past three years and could see all too clearly that the usual bounce in her step was gone. She also noted, much to her dismay, that when Sarah thought she wasn't looking, her shoulders sagged slightly in comparison to her usually regal posture.
"Sure." Cassandra said, giving her a long, hard look. She sighed – unless Sarah was ready to tell you something, it was near impossible to force it out of her. "Have you gone to see any of your family recently?" she asked, steering away from dangerous grounds.
"I went to see my grandmother – and had a great vacation at the same time, so I am fine, Cass." Cassandra's musings had not escaped Sarah's awareness. "But I haven't seen my family in Canada or England for ages. And when I do see them… it feels so strange, you know."
"Yeah." Cassandra replied as the elevator door opened to reveal a corridor full of people going all about them. "Ah, MI5." Cassandra sighed. "Closest thing I have to a home, really. I do know what you mean, Sarah. We're not quite part of the rest of the world anymore, and here is only temporary. I mean, you're the only person I really know, and even then…"
Sarah smiled at Cassandra as the walked through the bustle of people. This was one of the main reasons why she'd always liked Cass; she always knew just what Sarah meant.
"It must be even harder for you – you're still caught up with that 'society', right? I guess right now life is really throwing you for a wrench."
Sarah remained silent, not sure if she wanted to tell Cassandra everything at that time. They kept on walking, crossing into another corridor, turning into another, and eventually made their way up several flights of stairs. Upon reaching the landing at the top, the two women proceeded to continue to navigate their way through the labyrinth of MI5 until they arrived at a medium sized office. Sarah immediately collapsed into a chair behind her desk while Cassandra made herself at home on a long couch against the far wall.
"Cass," Sarah groaned, making up her mind. "Oh Cass, you have no idea."
Cassandra immediately sat up. "Spill, girl." she commanded, and spill Sarah did. The situation with Remus had raised so many doubts and fears within Sarah and there was only so much of it that she could keep to herself. Although she never told Cassandra just what the 'society' she was involved with really was, she poured out all of her fears about being caught between the worlds, with no place that she really fit in. Admittedly, her non-romance with Remus was making her see things a lot worse, but she still meant every word when she told Cassandra that she had pretty much had it with things in general.
"Cass – I don't know if I can take all this anymore. I need to belong somewhere – I hate floundering about, all on my own. Unique I can take, but alone??" she shuddered. "And alone is what I am, right now."
Cassandra was alarmed. "Sarah, you're not seriously talking about quitting, are you? You can't do that! We need you! People need you! You can't leave!"
Sarah stood up and moved around to the front of her desk, gathering her coat as she did.
"And what about me?" she asked Cassandra. "Cass, what about what I need?"
Cassandra was at a loss for words. Finally, seeing that Sarah was about to leave for the night, she called out to her. "Please – at least think this over, okay?"
Sarah nodded, then slipped out the door, heading back the way they'd came.
"Damn!" Cassandra muttered. "I need to see Michael."
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Sarah walked briskly along beside her godfather as they strode through the Ministry of Magic. Although he was well over a hundred years old, it almost seemed as if he glided across the moonlit floors. Sarah was finding herself hard put to keep up.
"Uncle Al, if you don't mind – why exactly are we here tonight?" At that time Sarah wanted nothing more than to be asleep in her bed, but Dumbledore had insisted that she accompany him to the Ministry as soon as she was available. True, he'd said that if she needed the rest, they could come another time, but Sarah could tell by the way he'd asked that it would be something better done sooner than later.
Her godfather turned twinkling eyes to her serious ones. "Why, Sarah," he began.
"And here I was, labouring under the impression that my goddaughter was a telepath!"
Sarah laughed softly. "Yeah, but you know, for some reason, I seem to recall that the last time I attempted to read your mind I ended up in bed for the better part of a week!"
"You were just starting out then." Dumbledore observed mildly. "I wager that you would have considerably more success this time around."
"Are you saying what I think you're – oh! Oh – oh – what…what is that!" Sarah clutched her hands to her ears. Although it had gone unnoticed at first, which she strongly suspected was due to her godfather's neat sidestepping of her original query, she now heard thousands of voices whispering all around her.
"Ah, we are almost there, then." Dumbledore looked kindly at Sarah. "I suppose some explanations are in order."
"Yes, please." Sarah said through gritted teeth, fighting to regain control. Dumbledore waited until she had done so, then continued.
"You see, my dear, in June of
this year, as I'm sure you already know, there was a fight here in the
Ministry. Some died in that fight, and, especially in the room that we are
going to, many others have died here before them."
"Oh, this is just great." Sarah muttered. She could see exactly where this was headed.
"Let me guess," she said dryly. "The echoes of their thoughts as they died should be floating around, no?"
"Yes…" Dumbledore gravely answered. "But you know how these things work. There will be echoes of living people's thoughts as well…"
"Because they will have been trapped by the other echoes." Sarah finished, understanding the purpose behind their visit. "And if I can get a lock on what their minds feel like here, later on I can find their present location… Why didn't we think of this sooner?"
Dumbledore smiled approvingly at Sarah's quick grasp of the situation. "Truth be told, I've been asking myself the same thing. "Ah, here we are. Are you ready?"
Sarah took a deep breath and nodded. "All good" She said, and they stepped into the room with the veil.
Despite all her mental preparations, the sheer volume of noise instantly overwhelmed her and she dropped to her knees, covering her ears. It seemed as if each whispering voice was trying to drill into her very being regardless of her best efforts to hold them at bay. The room about her began to spin, blur, and fade away, darkness swallowing everything until she felt a firm hand on her shoulder and heard her godfather's voice, calm and commanding.
"Breathe, Sarah, breathe."
Sarah grabbed onto his voice like a lifeline, holding onto it with all her strength. Slowly, she managed to force the voices down into submission, and got shakily to her feet, leaning on Dumbledore for support.
"Okay." She said after a few seconds. "Now, I'm alright."
"Very good then." Dumbledore replied. "Now, these are the minds that I want you to look for."
As Dumbledore told Sarah the various persons she was looking for, she reached out, sorting through the voices for that particular echo. After what had seemed like hours, she had finally made her way methodically through all the people, finding everyone she was supposed to. Sarah wanted to try and start to look for them while it was fresh in her memory, but her godfather insisted that she get some rest after all the work she had just done.
They were turning to leave when Sarah felt an echo drift by her. Instinctively listening, she stiffened as she heard the voice in her mind. Dumbledore, who had been watching her closely since she'd entered the room quickly rushed to her side and asked if there was anything wrong.
"Uncle Al." she said, her voice strangely detached. "You do know that I can tell right off whom an echo belongs to, right?"
"Yes, I am aware of that, Sarah." Dumbledore cautiously replied. "Did you just hear an interesting one?"
"Well, I never met the man, but from what I've heard about him and what I'm hearing right now – well, yes, this one is definitely interesting."
"Sarah." Dumbledore patiently waited as Sarah was obviously lost deep in thought. "Sarah," he tried again, a horrible suspicion forming in his mind. "Whose is it?"
"Oh!" Sarah said, breaking out her reverie. "Oh, right. Yes, well, it's Sirius Black."
Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. Sarah seemed rather agitated, but why should she be? She'd never known Sirius, although she'd heard a great deal about him.
"Ah." was all he managed to say. He waited, knowing there was more to come.
"That's not the point, Uncle Al." Sarah looked intently at him. "Echoes of the dead are solitary voices, with no connection to anything. They are nothing but echoes."
"Yes?" Dumbledore prompted, but he suspected he knew what was coming.
"Echoes of the living, however, almost have a pulse – you can feel the life of the person they belong to, just that they are someplace else."
"What, Sarah," Dumbledore asked, his voice low and serious. "What are you trying to tell me?"
"Uncle Al," Sarah sighed. "This echo – Sirius – it's…it's alive."
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A/N: YES I KNOW IT'S CLICHÉ!! But I love Sirius waayy too much to cut him out of the story. I can't do it! I'm just in too much denial! Let me know where you think Sirius should have been all this time! Is he just behind the veil, or is he someplace else?? Review and let me know!
-Laren