Consequences
By Neurotica
Two
Sirius pushed Snape through the door of the DMLE interrogation room with a sharp prod with the tip of his wand. He slammed the door shut and gestured roughly for Snape to sit in one of the metal chairs.
"Isn't it procedure to have two experienced Aurors question a prisoner?" Snape asked scathingly.
Sirius' only reply was to jam his wand into Snape's throat, nearly cutting off the other wizard's windpipe. "Don't screw with me, Snivelly. I am not in the mood. I'm only here because it's an emergency. Once I leave, you can rot in here with your fellow bottom-feeders for all I care," he growled.
Snape's reaction was to raise an eyebrow. "What sort of emergency, Black? Has Lupin finally put us all out of our misery and killed himself?"
Without warning, Snape found himself on the cement floor, the right side of his head throbbing horribly. Above him, Sirius was panting heavily, his face red with anger. "I warned you," he said in a carefully controlled voice, feeling a bit better from unleashing some of his anger. "Now," he said, relatively calmer, "you're either going to help me, or I'm going to add to the charges you've been brought in on. Your choice."
Snape sneered. He'd rather digest rat poison than help Sirius Black—though, he had done it many years ago when the Potter boy had been kidnapped—but he was no help to Dumbledore locked up in the Ministry... "What do you want?" Snape asked coldly, pushing himself from the floor.
"What is this?" Sirius asked, taking the goblet from the insides of his robes and practically slamming it down on the metal table. The sound of the impact reverberated dully off the stone walls.
Again, Snape merely raised an eyebrow, but reached out to pick up the goblet. He sniffed the residue without gagging as Sirius had, and raised his eyebrow higher. "Where did you get this?" Snape asked softly.
"It was on Harry's bedside table. He drank it," Sirius said, watching Snape carefully.
"He drank this?" Snape asked.
"Yes. What is it?"
Snape sighed irritably and winced as another throb of pain traveled through his jaw. "Unless I am mistaken—which I am not—this is a variance of the Draught of the Living Dead. You do know what that is, Black?" Sirius didn't answer. "Well, I will just assume you do not. The Draught of the Living Dead puts the drinker into a deep, most times irreversible sleep. This potion differs only in the sense that it kills the drinker much more quickly, and with much more pain involved. How long ago did Potter ingest it?" he asked.
"I don't know," Sirius responded quietly. "Four, maybe five hours ago."
"The potion completes its progress in twenty-four hours time," Snape said lightly.
"Is there an antidote?" Sirius asked hoarsely.
"There is," Snape answered, examining his fingernails.
Gritting his teeth, Sirius did something he never thought he would do.
"Can you prepare the antidote for me?"
"You mean, there is something the almighty Sirius Black cannot do on his own?" Snape said in mock-surprise. "Alert the Daily Prophet!"
"Dammit, Snape!" Sirius yelled, hitting the wall with his fist. "Just make the damn potion and stop being such a bloody git!"
"Well, I can hardly prepare any sort of potion in this atmosphere," Snape said, gesturing to the room.
"I'll take care of it," Sirius said through clenched teeth. "Will. you. make. the. potion?"
"As much as I know I will regret it, I don't believe I have any other choice in the matter, now do I?" Snape said.
Sirius nodded and tossed an Invisibility Cloak in Snape's direction. "Put it on and stay close to me. We can't Apparate or portkey out of here, obviously, so we'll have to go to Auror Headquarters."
Snape curled his lip at Sirius' orders. As he'd said, he had no other choice in the matter; Sirius was armed, Snape was not. He wrapped himself in the cloak and disappeared before Sirius' eyes.
Sirius led the way out of the DMLE holding area, past the young Auror who seemed quite alarmed at Sirius' sudden change in behavior, and across the hall to Auror Headquarters. There, Sirius charmed a paperweight on one of the desks to create a portkey and waited for Snape's pale, bony finger to reach out and touch it.
Sirius' feet slammed into the kitchen floor of Number Twelve as the Invisibility Cloak slipped from Snape's head. Resisting the swelling urge to hit Snape a second time, Sirius looked around the kitchen to find Dumbledore, Kingsley, Tonks, and all of the Weasleys except for Molly waiting for him.
"Snape's making a potion for Harry," Sirius muttered, pushing his way through the group before any questions could arise, and going up the stairs to his godson.
He entered Harry's room to find Molly and Madam Pomfrey bent over the boy, testing him with their wands, feeling his temperature, listening to his heart... Sirius pulled out a chair and sat in it backwards, his arms folded on the back, his chin resting on his arms, and watched.
In less than an hour, Sirius' world began to collapse around him again—just as it had when Harry had been stolen from him nine years ago. He wouldn't believe Remus was dead until he had more proof than just a wand. And he wouldn't lose Harry without a fight.
The potion hadn't just appeared out of thin air on Harry's beside table; someone had put it there. But who inside Number Twelve could possibly want to harm Harry? Percy came to mind, for some reason, for a split second, but the third eldest Weasley son hadn't been seen since the previous day—unless it had been him Sirius had seen in Diagon Alley during his duel with Bellatrix. But no, Percy wouldn't have the audacity that it would take to harm Harry with Sirius in the house...
Maybe one of Harry's friends tried to concoct a potion and it just went wrong? No, they would have admitted it immediately—even Fred and George. Tonks couldn't have prepared a potion without blowing all of Number Twelve to pieces. Kingsley and Arthur were with Sirius the whole night. Molly didn't do it. Kreacher was...
Sirius' eyes widened. "No way..." he muttered, standing slowly from his chair, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Sirius?" Molly asked, looking away from Harry.
Sirius locked his jaw and strode out of the room. "KREACHER!" he bellowed through the corridors of the house, setting off every angry portrait in the house.
"Master calls for Kreacher..."
Sirius stopped dead in his tracks as he heard the familiar mutterings. It was coming from a linen closet... Sirius wrenched the door open and found the house-elf crouching under a shelf. With no explanation, the wizard pulled Kreacher out by his wrinkled neck and threw him forcefully down the shadowed hallway. Kreacher, obviously injured, tried to crawl away, but Sirius was quicker. "STUPEFY!" the Auror roared. Kreacher instantly fell to the ground.
Breathing heavily, seeing only red, Sirius moved slowly to the house-elf—
"Sirius," said a stern voice. Sirius couldn't hear what else was said due to the angry buzzing that had filled his ears. A hand, unusually strong for its age, gripped Sirius' arm firmly in warning.
"Back off, Dumbledore," Sirius growled. Instead of loosening, the grip tightened around Sirius' upper arm.
"Do not force me to stun you, Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly.
Sirius turned his head slowly as a dog would when it sensed its prey and glared dangerously at his former headmaster. There were only two people in the world who would not cower under the look Sirius currently had on his face: Dumbledore and Remus.
"He did it," Sirius muttered, his resolve fading, looking back to Kreacher. "He poisoned Harry."
"That is highly probable. But I wish to speak with him first," Dumbledore said.
Reluctantly, Sirius pulled his arm forcibly from Dumbledore's grip, turned on his heel, and went back to Harry's room. Not many years before, nothing would have stopped him from completing the task he'd formed in his mind—he would have killed Kreacher without another thought. Any other time, Sirius would have cringed at the very idea of becoming a reasonable, sensible adult—that was Remus' job, after all—but Remus was not there...
Unfortunately, there were more important things to think about at the moment.
For example, how had things become so... terrible was not a strong enough word—nightmarish was closer to what Sirius was feeling at the moment...
Molly and Pomfrey had left the room to speak with Dumbledore before he left for Hogwarts. Sirius sat on the edge of Harry's bed and watched his godson's chest rise a bit and then shudder back down.
Too much was happening to allow him the ability to comprehend it all at once. Sirius looked helplessly around the room, his grey eyes landing on a photograph from years before. One from Harry's sixth birthday—the first real birthday the boy had had since his first. Remus and Sirius sat on either side of the birthday boy, smiling widely, all three of them looking happier than they had in their lives—which was true, if Sirius thought about it. He couldn't remember another time when he'd felt happier than he had when he'd been reunited with Harry.
Sirius had experienced rough times before—rough being used quite loosely—but he'd always had someone to share the pain with. Remus or Harry had always been there in the past. But now Sirius was utterly alone.
Roughly, he wiped away the tears that began to fall from his eyes, stood from Harry's bed, and began to pace. It would be a long twenty-four hours.
Albus Dumbledore was highly distraught, though one would not know this just by looking at him; he seemed as calm as he ever was. He walked swiftly down the deserted corridors of his school, his midnight blue robes billowing behind him as he made his way to the dungeons.
Kreacher had been questioned carefully and thoroughly regarding his knowledge of the night's events. The information that had been gathered had made the Headmaster quite pleased—in a horrific kind of way—with his decisions regarding Order recruitment, though one could not go on the word of a lunatic house-elf alone—even Dumbledore had to admit that Kreacher was more than a little off.
Only one other time could Dumbledore recall feeling as apprehensive as he did at this moment: when the Potters were forced into hiding and they'd insisted on using Sirius Black as their Secret-Keeper. Dumbledore had, obviously, been wrong in his assumptions about Sirius, and he was trying not to jump to conclusions in this case as he had then. One could not be too careful, however, when it came to the well-being of those he cared for.
There were only so many things any wizard—Albus Dumbledore not excluded—could deal with at any single moment. The Boy-Who-Lived dying at the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix and two highly respected Order members missing was that limit for Dumbledore.
Stepping quickly down the stone dungeon stairs, taking a sharp right, Dumbledore found his destination. Slowly, he pushed open the wooden dungeon door as to not startle the wizard inside—that had happened once before, and Dumbledore had not been able to look Severus in the eye for a week.
Severus, as to be expected, was bent low over a steaming cauldron; the smell of the purple smoke was that of a wet dog and rotten eggs. How Severus could handle the smells day in and day out remained a mystery to Dumbledore.
"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly.
Severus didn't turn away from his cauldron, but answered the Headmaster's silent question. "The potion is coming along well, Headmaster. However, it still requires eighteen hours to simmer before it can be ingested."
"What do you know of this poison, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.
Severus sliced up a bezoar carefully and dropped the pieces into the cauldron before answering, as if pondering how much to tell Dumbledore. "It was developed by the Dark Lord in the first war," Snape began quietly. "The effects are immediate, but seem trivial to the untrained eye—fever, clammy skin, loss of color; much the same as the Muggle flu.
"Within four hours, the symptoms remain the same, but the poison has already begun to take a most terrible effect. The victim experiences violent stomach cramps and convulsions, and in some cases, hallucinations.
"By the fifteenth hour, the potion is acting as an acid, burning though the victim's organs. At the twenty-fourth hour, the potion will have reached the brain, and it is irreversible at this point." Dumbledore's face remained impassive, but he was feeling more than a little anxious as Severus continued. "According to Black, Potter has only reached the convulsion stage. Fortunately, it is still possible to save the boy."
Dumbledore ignored the sarcasm in his Potion Master's voice. "Your help is very much appreciated, Severus." Severus nodded once to show he understood. "I suspect it is pointless to ask of the whereabouts of Remus Lupin and Emmeline Vance?"
Snape visibly stiffened. "I know nothing about that, Headmaster," he said softly.
Dumbledore resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. He thought he had heard a slight trace of worry in the younger wizard's voice. Dumbledore did not press the subject. "Thank you, Severus. I will be at Headquarters if you need me. Please bring the antidote the moment it is finished," he said, leaving the potions lab.
Sirius' eyes snapped open suddenly as a ray of the morning's sun hit his face. Blurrily and squinting slightly, he looked around his surroundings. His eyes stopped on a poster of the Chudley Cannons just as the Seeker slammed into the stands; the snitch seemed to be taunting him as it flew off. Sirius chuckled mentally. The Cannons never could catch a cold...
But then another thought hit him: Since when did he have a Cannons poster in his room?
Sirius turned from where he lay on his side and found Harry curled up next to him, his breathing still shallow, and his complexion still deathly pale.
Wasn't a nightmare then, Sirius thought, wiping some sweat from his godson's cheek. Damn.
A timid knock sounded on the bedroom door and Molly entered, followed by Madam Pomfrey. The witches moved to Harry's side of the bed and began to check his vitals. Sirius sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, watching.
"Well?" he said quietly.
"No change," Pomfrey said business-like. Sirius massaged his temples. "That's good, though," the nurse continued. "He's not getting any worse."
Sirius nodded. "Any news?" he asked Molly.
Molly shook her head sadly. "Dumbledore wants to speak with you. He's in the kitchen."
"Right," Sirius sighed. "You'll let me know if anything changes?"
"Of course, dear," Molly assured as Pomfrey shooed Sirius out of the room.
Realizing defeat, Sirius left Harry's room with a worried glance over his shoulder as the door was closed in his face. He didn't have the strength to fight with Pomfrey and Molly. If Remus had been there, it would have been different. But as it happened, Remus was not there, and Sirius didn't feel like being cursed by the two mother hens in Harry's room after an argument over whether he could stay with his godson.
Down in the kitchen, Sirius found the odd group he called his friends: Dumbledore, Arthur and Tonks—they must have owled in sick to work, Sirius thought—Moody, and Dung.
Sirius sat in his usual spot at the table, noticing immediately that Remus' spot had been left vacant. He looked around the group while they looked exhaustedly back. They'd probably been awake all night, while Sirius had fallen asleep upstairs. His eyes stopped on Dumbledore and the Auror raised an expectant eyebrow.
"How are you feeling, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked softly.
Never better, Sirius thought sarcastically. "I'm all right, Albus. What's been happening?"
"Severus has just owled." Sirius sat straighter in his chair. "He is experiencing difficulty in finding one of the final ingredients for the antidote. Mundungus has had one of his, er, contacts search for it and he will contact Mundungus when it is found."
Sirius nodded, thankful that Dung was who he was. "How much longer will it be?"
"Depending on when the ingredient is delivered, Severus can finish the antidote in eight hours," Dumbledore said.
Sirius did the quick math. Harry had gone to bed at eleven o'clock last night. It was 10:30 a.m. right now. Twelve and a half hours was all they had to save Harry... "Okay," Sirius said tensely staring at the table.
"I was able to retrieve information from what was left of Remus and Emmeline's tracking charms," Dumbledore went on. Sirius' head snapped up. "The last visual we have is of them laughing and smiling as they walked up the mountain side before the hologram faded."
"So there's no way to know what happened to them?"
"Unless we can find them, no," Dumbledore said.
"I see," Sirius said in a forced calm. "And Kreacher?"
"Will remain at Hogwarts. There are still things I wish to question him about."
"Did he admit to poisoning Harry?"
"He insists, and I am inclined to believe him, that another placed the potion beside Harry's bed."
"What?" Sirius said loudly, causing Tonks to start. "Who in their right mind would dare—?"
Sirius thought he saw Dumbledore's eyes flicker quickly to Arthur, but couldn't be sure. A half-second later, the Headmaster looked back to Sirius. "I am still investigating the matter, Sirius," Dumbledore said in a final tone. Ask no questions and I will tell you no lies, was the silent message passed between Headmaster and Auror.
Sirius let that mass for the moment. "Who's searching for Remus...? And Emmeline," he added hastily.
"Kingsley's got Dawlish, Evans, Johnson, and Burrons with him. They left when you went into Harry's room," Tonks answered.
"Anything?"
"Not yet."
Sirius' immediate thought was that he should be a part of the search for Remus and Emmeline. He shouldn't be locked up in the kitchen, waiting for news. He almost instantly recalled himself having the same thought in the Hogwarts kitchens years ago, but Remus had at least been there that time...
He could faintly hear Dumbledore talking in the background, but Sirius' mind was blank again. He didn't know what to think anymore, or what to feel or do. He was lost... and he didn't like the feel of it one bit.
The seconds were dragging on. Every one that passed, Sirius felt his chest grow tighter, as if time was trying to suffocate him.
Just as he was thinking things couldn't get any worse, the doorbell rang above them, followed by the inevitable shrieks of his mother's portrait. Arthur, Dung, and Moody sprinted up the stairs to stop the noise and to see who'd arrived. Sirius was left with Tonks and Dumbledore.
"It'll be okay, Sirius," Tonks whispered.
Sirius nodded, stood, and walked to the pantry. When he returned to the table, ignoring the raised eyebrows from the other two, he opened the new bottle of firewhiskey and drank it straight without retrieving a glass.