The Choices We Make

Chapter 3—Fading to Black

Sirius was going to be even later for dinner than he'd expected. Three blasts from the Crucius curse was hard for anyone to get over, especially coming from Voldemort. Sirius knew that the only reason he'd been able to make it home to Grimmauld Place had been from sheer stubbornness and pride. The moment he was in his living room, Sirius had collapsed to the floor, unable to force himself to move any further. He awoke an hour later, in his bed. Clearly Kreatcher had moved him. Sirius remained motionless. Searing pain was shooting through his entire body, immobilizing him. The Death Eater grimaced.

It was getting worse. Sirius was the highest ranked and most feared Death Eater for good reason. He was Voldemort's pet. The only one who could stand up to the Dark Lord time after time, and not be killed. Sirius worked on his own schedule. If it happened to overlap Voldemort's plan's that was an added bonus. For that, the other Death Eaters feared, if and respected him. Not surprisingly, Voldemort didn't view it that way, and for his transgressions, Sirius was always punished. Always the same way.

Gingerly, he tried to sit up, and was quickly rewarded with icy fingers of pain driving through his entire body. Again, he lay back against the pillow. The Crucius curse did not cause permanent physical damage. Never in history had it done so, but then again, never in recorded history had anyone felt the brunt of it as often as Sirius had. He was starting to realize that even someone as strong as he was could not withstand it forever.

The curse was starting to have long term effects on him. He could feel his body failing from the inside out, and it became worse with each exposure. He was slowing down, simple things were straining him more, wearing him out more quickly, hurting him more easily. Lucius had no idea how right he'd been when he'd said that Voldemort would kill him one day. Although it wouldn't be the Avada Kedavra that would do it.

Sirius closed his eyes, trying to at least escape into sleep for a couple of hours before he'd have to deal with any new effects the curse had on his body. He could feel his heart still racing, which was something he'd have to check on as soon as he could get up again, as it was the most likely part of him to fail at this point.

He hadn't been asleep long when a deformed, old house elf hobbled into the room, waking him again. "Master is getting himself hurt again," he muttered to himself. "The boy is going to die if he isn't careful."

The Death Eater gritted his teeth, and tried to ignore him.

"Master should know better than to upset the Dark Lord. He thinks no one knows what's happening to him, but Kreatcher notices things. Kreatcher knows."

"Shut up, house elf," Sirius snapped, forcing himself to move. "Was there a point to your visit?"

Kreatcher sneered at his master, but bowed low. "Of course, Master. So sorry to wake Master up."

"I'm sure you are," the wizard muttered, relieved to find that he could pull himself to a sitting position without too much pain.

"Master has slept a long time. Mistress Narcissa has fired the house, and would like to know if Master intends to come for dinner sometime before breakfast."

Sirius nodded, and stood. He still needed to lean against the wall for support, but it was better. He took a deep breath before responding. "Fire her back, and tell her I will arrive shortly."

Kreatcher nodded and hobbled out of the room, still mumbling to himself. Sirius watched him leave, grateful that he was gone. Honestly, he hated the bugger and hoped he would die, but he'd made a promise to his mother not to help the process along, no matter how much he'd wanted to. Sirius was starting to think that promise had been a bad idea. Maybe it wouldn't count as breaking it if he just set up an accident. Accidentally tell Kreatcher to play in traffic or something…

Slowly, Sirius walked to his closet, feeling more like himself with each step. That was good, because one thing was for certain, no one could know what was happening to him. If they found out, he'd be fed to the wolves.

A ghost of a smile flickered upon his face, as a very old memory surfaced briefly. No, it was the other horrors of the night he had to worry about.

Wolves, he could deal with…

"Absolutely not," Barty Crouch, the Minister of Magic boomed across his spacious office in the Ministry. Before him sat two individuals: a young boy and a thin and faded man who claimed to be his uncle. Crouch knew who the boy was. He knew what the boy stood for, probably better than the boy did, himself, but that did not mean that the Minister of Magic of all people had to bow down to their every whim.

The proper-looking older man stared them down from his chair. The boy looked away, but interestingly enough there was something hard and firm in the man's amber eyes that would not allow him to break eye contact. Frail though he appeared, Remus Lupin was made of stronger stuff than that. And clearly he did not intend to back down.

"Minister Crouch," Lupin said quietly. "Perhaps you don't understand the situation. Harry will be attending Hogwarts this year. The headmaster himself has determined that someone needs to be there to protect him. Black is dangerous, and if he decided to go after Harry, then I'm not sure even that place would be safe."

Crouch seemed to puff up at that. "Preposterous. Hogwarts falling to one man. Next you'll be saying that Black is more dangerous than You-Know-Who. And even he could never breech the school."

Remus glared at him. "Minister, I'll remind you that when Voldemort last attacked the school, it was under different circumstances…"

Crouch winced at the use of the Dark Lord's name, but continued. "Targeting this boy," he snorted, motioning to Harry. "If he were so important, then Black would have taken him by now. It's as simple as that." He glanced over at the auror sitting in the corner, serving as witness to this ridiculous conversation. "Isn't that right, Hampton? You've dealt with Black before."

Stanton nodded shortly, managing not to cringe at the slaughtering of his name. "Black isn't exactly predictable, but if he were currently after Harry, we could guarantee getting wind of the plans. However—"

Crouch cut the older auror off before he could get much further. "You see? I would suggest that if the headmaster feels that young Harry here needs a guard, that perhaps he can provide one of his own."

Lupin's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he said darkly, "That is not acceptable, Minister. At least talk with the headmaster…"

"Perhaps, Mr. Lupin, you don't understand that currently we are at war. And we are at war with You-Know-Who, not one of his generals. In a war, we have to make sacrifices, but sacrificing experienced fighters just to watch over every child with a sad story is ridiculous."

"So, you would rather sacrifice the child, then," Lupin said.

Harry scowled. "Hey, I'm not just some kid," he spat.

Lupin laid a gentle hand on the young boy's shoulder to quiet him. "This boy is under my care. I—"

"Then by all means, take care of him," Crouch growled, cutting him off. "But take him out of this office."

"Minister." Stanton's voice was unexpected from the sidelines, silencing both men. "Might I offer a suggestion?"

Crouch grunted, and Stanton took that as an invitation to continue. "Might I suggest giving them Miss Tonks as a guard for the boy? She is a first year auror, and not experienced enough to be any real loss to the division. Not to mention the fact that she is still recovering from her last brush with Death Eaters, so she isn't going to be in active auror duty any time soon. She sounds as though she would be an appropriate option." The auror fell silent, allowing the Minister to consider his words.

Lupin opened his mouth to protest at the exact moment Crouch responded. "Excellent. Yes, that would work. She is an auror and would be a respectable babysitter for the boy."

"I don't need a babysitter!" Harry shot back.

His uncle tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder. "Harry's life is worth more than a wounded, inexperienced auror," Lupin snapped.

The Minister leaned forward again, stating, "This is your option. It's either Miss Tonks, or you leave my office and let the headmaster know that he needs to find the boy a guard on his own time. Consider it." He leaned back in his chair. "Hampton, please show these two out. If they decide to take your advice, they can make arrangements with your division leader."

Stanton nodded and led Harry and an enraged Remus out of the room.

"This isn't acceptable," the werewolf growled to Stanton as soon as they were in the hall. "Even if you haven't gotten wind of Black's plans, that doesn't mean he hasn't made any. Black is more intelligent than that. I don't know how you get your information—"

"Neither do we." Stanton said simply.

Lupin stopped ranting. "What?"

Stanton began leading them down a twisting labyrinth of hallways and ramps. "At first, we believed they were just rumors. Just before an attack, somehow, we would get word. But it was too regular. Rumors always have a grain of truth to them, but when it came to Black, they were never wrong. And the only people privy to this information are those close to Black. One of his Black's own Death Eaters is betraying him." He sighed. "It would be a great help if the Minister of Magic would take the warnings seriously, but to him, these rumors are no more accurate than the Quibbler. If we could get our hands on the Dark Lord's traitor, maybe we could get somewhere." They turned a few more corners, and went through a door.

Harry was already getting dizzy and confused. The Ministry was worse to navigate than Gringotts.

"So, someone's betraying Black?" His uncle murmured, drawing Harry's attention from the corridors. Remus couldn't mask the bitter expression on his face. "How ironic. The traitor has a traitor."

Harry blinked up in surprise at Remus' dark tone.

Stanton chuckled. "Exactly." He didn't say any more until they were through a small group of witches and wizards taking a break in the hall. "Don't worry. We'll get him eventually."

"He'll be sent to Azkaban, won't he?" Harry asked. Azkaban was known to be the worst prison in the wizarding world. Prisoners didn't last long there, going mad from the isolation, silencing and blinding spells. They said in Azkaban, you didn't need torture, because you could torture yourself. Without the ability to hear or see anything around them, the prisoners quickly became lost in their own minds. No one ever escaped. Few even survived a year. It was the worst sort of punishment imaginable.

Stanton nodded to the boy. "Most likely. That is, if he isn't thrown into the Death Chamber. Some killers are considered too dangerous even for the prison."

Pain flickered in Remus' eyes. "Hopefully, that's what he'll get," the werewolf said quietly. "It's kinder than Azkaban. No one deserves that place."

Harry's expression hardened. "He killed my parents. He deserves it."

Remus shook his head, but wouldn't make eye contact with the boy. "No, Harry. I've seen that place. No one deserves that. Not even the worst… and Black wasn't always…" He swallowed and broke off. "Forget it."

"Uncle Remus?"

Remus wouldn't look at him, turning instead back to Stanton. "So, the aurors have received no message about Black concerning Harry? And that's enough to assume he's safe?"

"We have no word about it. But that's no guarantee. It's always possible that Black has already found his traitor and disposed of him."

"And knowing this, you suggest an inexperienced first year?"

The auror smiled. "I understand your concern, but you don't know the Minister as well as I do. If I hadn't suggested Tonks, you wouldn't have had anyone at all. And, I think you'll find more use in this auror than you'd expect." His secretive smile quieted Remus, and drew Harry's interest.

"Why?" the boy asked.

"Because, what the Minister fails to realize is that the wounds Nymphadora Tonks is recovering from came from Black himself. She was one of the survivors of the Gringotts attack, and she is the only person I've ever seen that Black hesitated to kill.

Remus blinked back his surprise. "He… hesitated?"

Stanton nodded, turning a corner and reaching a wall lined in elevators. He pushed the up button. "We still don't know why, but if you can't get someone experienced enough to kill him, I would think your next best bet would be to get someone lucky enough to survive him." An elevator door opened, and after three witches in heels and power suits strode off, Stanton led them in. "The choice is up to you, of course, but at least consider it."

Remus nodded shortly. "Thank you… for all your help."

Stanton smiled. "Floor eight gets you out of here. Floor six brings you to the head of the aurors. Wish I could do more." He winked. "And remember, I never told you anything. Auror business is top secret." With that, he let go of the doors, so they slid shut with a whoosh.

Harry looked up at his uncle. "Well?" he asked.

Remus didn't answer. He just pushed six on the panel, and hoped he was making the right choice.

Author's Note: Thanks again for the great reviews, and thank you for reading! I'm having waaay more fun with this story than I'd ever imagined. Sorry again for the short chapters and long gaps between updates. I'm used to being more regular about this, but this Sirius keeps surprising me, and I find that I'm forced to adapt to his personality far more often than usual. I hope you will understand. As usual, please review. Good reviews with thoughts, opinions and such really help motivate me to write!