To Walk Through Fire
Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Harry Potter and the characters associated with him. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I am not making money off of this story. So please don't sue.
Chapter XVI: Awakenings and Silent Pleas
He was floating in oblivion.
There was no pain. No suffering.
And no thoughts.
He just existed.
Sometimes he heard voices, but they seemed so muffed, from so far away – it was as if someone was shouting at him from under an ocean of water. He could never make out the words, but he did not care to. Something told him that to listen to those voices would only bring pain. That it would quicken his departure from his dark oblivion. And he was not ready for that. He did not want to leave his safe haven, away from the world. He did not want to remember . . .
He could not remember anything. His name. His life before oblivion. Sometimes a memory would quickly flash before his eyes, people who he could not remember, but people who he must have known. But those people would quickly disappear, fading into the darkness of oblivion, leaving him behind. He did not mind. He did not want to remember – no that wasn't right – part of him, a little part of him wanted to remember. But he stubbornly refused to allow it and clung desperately to oblivion.
The blackness covered him like a comforting blanket, and he felt truly safe, from everything.
Suddenly sometime dragged him out of oblivion.
A stone cold room appeared about him. There, on a throne like chair, sat a cruel figure who chilled his soul. As his eyes met those hideous red eyes of the figure he remembered everything.
"Crucio." The figure hissed. And even as Peter Pettigrew fell to the ground in pain, Harry Potter cried out in agony.
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Sirius jumped up in the air even as Harry began to scream in agony. The chair he had been sitting on fell over with a loud crash.
"Harry," he called trying to wake his son. "Harry!" His son continued to scream in agony, curling up into a ball, his hands clasped on that terrible scar on his forehead as if trying to stop the pain. Sirius could see drops of blood leaking through his hands, which emphasized the pale colour of Harry's skin.
Sirius tried to shake Harry awake, but the boy only curled up further into a ball, tears falling out of his eyes, his mouth opened in a silent scream.
He didn't know how to calm Harry down. How to wake him up. And that absolutely terrified Sirius.
Madam Pomphrey wasn't there; she had just left for a half hour break believing that everything would be fine. Sirius did not know what to do. He was no medic – he had only the crude Auror First Aid Training, and curse scars definitely were not included in that training. Remus, who may have had some helpful hints, had left to go . . . somewhere, he hadn't specified where . . . and Sirius had no one to go to. How could he help Harry?
It tore his heart to see Harry in pain like that. He wished he could take Harry's place; his son did not deserve this.
"Harry, please wake up. Harry! Harry! Come on Harry! Please come back. Harry!" He cried desperately to the boy thinking of everything that could possibly rouse his son. He was growing desperate. What could he do? Not even as a Marauder did he know anything that could help.
"Quick, watch him before he hurts himself." A voice called out and Sirius could hear footsteps running towards them. Sirius suddenly realized that Harry had started to convulse in pain, and was moving around on the bed. Sirius quickly stopped the boy before he fell off the bed. The stranger, whoever he was – Sirius did not bother to look up at him, he was too concerned about Harry – helped to keep Harry on the bed.
It seemed like hours before Harry finally relaxed, his muscles loosening. His frail body collapsed onto the bed. Sirius relaxed a little watching his son warily, expecting – although desperately hoping against it – that his son would once again start to convulse. Thankfully Harry did not.
"He should be better now." The stranger said softly. Sirius looked up suddenly. If this stranger knew who Sirius was, he could send Sirius straight into prison, or worse to his death. And leave Harry without anyone.
The stranger was none other than Alexander Brown, still dressed in hospital clothing, but looking as regal as he had as an Auror. He looked rather pale and tired as he sat slumped on the hospital chair that had been placed besides Harry's bed. Sirius felt his heart begin to beat faster. Alexander could easily put one and one together and see the relationship between him and Harry. Not to mention that Alexander was an Auror who could take him tin to be executed by the Ministry. He snatched up his wand form the bedside table before Brown could make a move and pointed it at the middle-aged man. Before Azkaban he could easily out duel Brown, but now he was not so sure, he was completely out of practice, but he would be willing to do anything to save Harry from more pain.
Brown did not move, but watched him with a look of understanding that puzzled Sirius. "Relax Sirius, I'm not going to do anything. If I had wanted to capture you I would have done so while you were trying to help Harry.
That was true. "But . . ." Sirius began.
"No, I know that you could not have committed those murders. Not Lily and James, especially James." No, especially Lily, James had been his brother, but Lily had been his soul mate, his beloved. "And why would you be here with Harry if Albus Dumbledore did not trust you? And I know that Harry is your son. It took me only fourteen years to figure it all out, but I did. It is true isn't it?" The man blurted out in a rush, his regal appearance destroyed by the boyishly anxious tone of his voice.
Sirius was unable to do anything other than nod as he sat down softly beside Harry in front of his old one time friend. "How . . ." he gaped unable to say more. If Brown could put it together couldn't someone else. No, the information was buried too deep. They had told no one. No one at all. How had Brown found out? Did anyone else know? Sirius' mind ran a mile a second as he attempted to make sense of what Brown had just said.
"It all began when I took Harry to Azkaban – "
"You what?!" Sirius jumped up prepared to grab the man's throat. Brown did not move. He only sat there motionlessly. Had Sirius looked closely at the man he would have realized that Alexander Brown was guilt ridden over what he had done to Harry. But Sirius didn't, he couldn't. "How could you?! He's only a boy! He's . . .he's innocent! How could you not see that?" Sirius screamed at the man in rage. "How could Harry have casted a spell that large with the education that he has had? And . . .and . . .his relatives never treated him kindly – how could you not see?" Sirius suddenly collapsed and started to sob. "Oh, sweet Merlin, it's all my fault, I should have taken him when summer began . . . I should have known that this would have happened, Fudge said that Harry was crazy from the start. I should have known that he'd do something like this. It's all my fault. You have your family to protect. I failed my family. First my mother, then James, and Lily – oh Lily, I failed him, I failed our son. Harry I'm sorry." Sirius sobbed into his hands. The sleepless nights and constant worry was finally catching up to him. Sirius felt an arm gently wrap around his shoulder.
"It's not your fault Sirius, it was our duty to protect him, to keep him safe. Lily and Harry saved us all those years ago and it's our duty to keep him safe. And I should have realized the truth about that family he lived with before I placed him in that nightmare. I should have known that they beat him, there was even a handprint brightly displayed on his cheek. I knew later and I tried to save him, but he ended up saving himself more than I ever could." Brown said softly.
Sirius sat there sobbing, when suddenly he realized what Brown was saying. "It's my fault. I should have known . . ." Sirius suddenly looked up at Brown, anger flashing in his eyes. "You knew that he had been beaten by his relatives and you didn't do anything?"
Brown looked at his feet, unable to look at Sirius. "I discovered it only after I put him in . . . that place. I asked his cousin for the truth and . . . and I was disgusted, to say the least, at what I heard."
"What did you hear?" Sirius asked warily, desperately not wanting to hear confirmation of what he already suspected was the truth, but needing to.
"They abused him. It wasn't so bad before this year. But I think, from what I convinced from the cousin, that this year the uncle went full out in abusing him. Those bruises on him were all from his uncle. They weren't from the explosion." Sirius felt a deep anger rise in his chest at hearing those words aloud, and confirmed by one of Harry's own relatives.
"If they were not already dead I would murder them!" He hissed, his hands clenched tightly into fists as suspicion quickly became reality. "Those . . .muggles! How dare they?! How dare they do that to my son! How could they do that to a young boy who is of their own flesh and blood? Petunia's own sister's son!" Sirius continued on ranting, unable to stop himself. The hatred he felt towards these two muggles frightened him. The abuse that his son had suffered hurt him, and he blamed himself for every small bruise that Harry received in the care of the Dursleys. It was his fault that this came about. He knew that the Dursleys hated magic. He had known that it was only a matter of time before they started to beat his son. But Harry had never mentioned anything of the sort. He had not even hinted at it. Or perhaps he had and none of them had ever listened to him. Harry had always shown his dislike of the Dursleys, and Harry didn't dislike people without a reason. No one had ever looked for the signs before. No one had suspected that Harry's relatives were more than just a little neglectful. But he was Harry's father. He should have realized that the Dursleys were abusive towards his son just from the boy's actions and words – or unspoken words.
He was a fool.
And now his son had to suffer from his lack of action.
"I'm sorry Harry. I'm so sorry." He sobbed into his hands, unable to stop himself from breaking down yet again. He was unfit to be Harry's father. He would have Dumbledore assign a new guardian for Harry, someone who would truly take care of the boy. Perhaps the Weasleys. They would take far better care of Harry than he ever could. And Molly Weasley could be the mother to Harry that Lily never had the chance to be. Ron and his siblings could be the siblings that Harry had never had. Harry would heal much faster in that environment than he would in the one that Sirius could give – running for their lives, always being chased by the Ministry. Not to mention that Sirius was neglectful and he could not provide Harry for anything. He could hardly provide for himself. And he could not take care of a child. He had proven that through his actions. He did not even seem to realize when his own son was in danger.
He would not let Harry know the truth. He would reapply the illusion spells that had been woven around Harry and leave it at that. No one would ever know, except for the few who did now. Harry would be far safer that way. Voldemort would never discover the truth.
"Sirius!" Alexander's voice broke through his thoughts. "Listen to me. It was not your fault that this happened. You could not have known. How could you have known? Harry never told you, and from his actions, not even the Headmaster of Hogwarts, or any of his professors suspected anything."
"But I'm his father. I should have known. I should have seen it through what he did not say or do. The fact that he hated the Dursleys so much . . . I should have realized it before this summer. Albus had other affairs to deal with, and the professors had other students. They paid Harry as much attention as every other student, and considering the number of students it was not very much. It was my fault. I should have realized it. Harry was my only concern last year, aside from hiding, and I failed him. I couldn't even help him with any of his tasks. I couldn't help him when Voldemort attacked him a second time – "
"So it's true?" Alexander's voice broke into Sirius' ramblings. "Harry truly escaped He Who Must Not Be Named a second time? There were rumors of it, but you can only take what everyone says with a grain of salt. Even if Albus Dumbledore claimed that was the truth, I didn't dare believe him. Not when it was a second or third hand account of the events. Sweet Merlin. Your boy is special Sirius. There is something about him that . . .that is not in anyone else. Don't abandon him Sirius, he's going to need your help." Alexander whispered in awe.
"No, he's going to need me to stay away from him. He doesn't need to be hurt. I – "
"He knows you, right? And he loves you?" Alexander quickly interrupted. Before Sirius could even nod he continued. "Well of course he does, he probably met you in . . .well the year you escaped. Right?" This time Sirius was able to nod. "Then you need to stay with him. Tell him the truth. All of it. Even that nasty part about Voldemort, he will find out eventually and it's better that you tell him than anyone else. And he will need your support. He needs a parent, someone to guide him." Alexander raised his hand. "I can't imagine that he would have very many, if any, parent figures in his life." Alexander paused for a minute. Sirius couldn't help but sit and stare at the man. "I think he will need your love – the love of a parent – to heal. I saw it Sirius. It was the worst thing I think I have ever seen in my life. I saw the will to fight, to live, leave him – or at least become so deeply buried that none can see it. He'll need all the love that you and his friends can give him to begin to heal."
Sirius sobbed softly into his hands unable to stop himself. Oh Harry! He knew what had happened to his son. He knew what it meant to have no will power to live. He had gone through that in Azkaban knowing that he had killed his best friend and wife and lost Harry forever. After his mother had died. It would take something short of a miracle for Harry to heal from the wounds inflicted on him, both physically and emotionally. He could not help his son. He was still healing from his own emotional wounds. Harry wouldn't receive the attention that he needed from Sirius, nor the words of wisdom and hope. Remus would be a better father for Harry. Or even Albus Dumbledore would have made a better guardian than Sirius.
He was going to tell Albus tomorrow to discover some way to bring Harry back to life – or some other explanation that would allow him to enter Hogwarts – and send him to the Weasleys where he would be taken very good care of. It would do Harry far more good to go there than to be with Sirius. Yes that was what he was going to do tomorrow.
Sobs racked his body more at the thought of losing his son a second time. Why, if this was the best idea, did the decision feel so wrong? Weren't parents supposed to be happy when their children had a chance to grow and be happy? Why did he feel so awful?
He could hear Alexander speak, but he could not make out the words. Tears continued to flow down his face.
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Alexander gently rubbed the man's back with soothing motions, much like he did for his son when the boy was little. Sirius just continued to sob into his hands.
"It's not your fault Sirius. It's not your fault." He whispered soothingly to the man, although he doubted that Sirius heard him at all. He could hardly believe how broken Sirius was. The man had once been so full of life, even after the war had started to become nearly hopeless with more deaths by the day. He would stand there laughing with Remus, or James, or just about anyone who would make a joke. Even when he was serious the man still seemed full of life. If Alexander had not known Sirius before this he would have believed that this man was not Sirius Black, but some broken street beggar who has just lost his family everything.
Why?
Why did this have to happen to Sirius? He did nothing to deserve it. True, he had tormented Hogwarts nonstop since the day he entered the school, but he did not deserve this. He was not his biological father. He had never murdered anyone in cold blood, although Alexander suspected that he might have attempted to kill Peter Pettigrew, or would attempt if he ever met up with that lying rat. Not that Alexander blamed him of course. He probably would have hunted the rat down before even allowing anyone to know who he was, even if he risked his freedom to do so.
Sirius' sobs continued endlessly. The poor man. As if it was not enough that his family died, surly Lily and James were his family, and his son taken away from him, and on top of that his friend's betrayal, but he had been sent to Azkaban to relive those horrid memories over and over again. Then after he had escaped from Azkaban, he couldn't just go and remove his son from those Dursleys, but had to stay on the run. At least he still had Remus. Or at least Alexander hoped he did. Sirius would definitely need his friend, especially to help with Harry. If that was not enough, he discovers that his son had been abused by his relatives, and the boy was sent to Azkaban for a crime that he did not commit. Now his son was critically injured. What a sad life this man had. Alexander did not envy him any comfort that he could take. Nor did he scorn Sirius for his tears. His friend – at least he hoped that Sirius was still his friend – was completely exhausted if the bags under his eyes were any indication of his condition. Not to mention that Sirius was far too thin, as if he had not eaten properly in months, which, Alexander grinned bitterly, he must not have. If . . .no when Sirius and Harry were better he would invite them over for a good home cooked meal. They both needed it.
Sirius seemed to be calming down even as Alexander continued to whisper nonsensical words into his ear. He looked around for Madam Pomphrey. If only he could get some sleeping potion into the man. Sirius desperately needed sleep. Harry would survive the night. If he could survive Azkaban, he certainly could survive the night. However the witch was not around, anywhere. Fortunately Sirius seemed to be falling asleep even as he cried.
It took only a few minutes before Sirius had become completely limp, falling asleep right where he sat. Carefully Alexander lifted the man, who weighed too little, but was still heavy, especially since his muscles ached after being hit with those curses.
Moving with a skillful grace he slipped through the curtains and quickly dropped the man into the bed beside Harry's, unable to carry him any further. Harry would need his space when he woke up, especially after what his relatives had done to him. He was just tucking the covers around Sirius, as he would if Sirius had been a child, when Madame Pomphrey came into the room. At the sight of him standing, she came storming over.
"What are you doing – " She began to whisper loudly at him and then realized who exactly was in the bed. "He finally fell asleep did he? How ever did you manage that? He would not take any of the sleeping potions that I offered him, nor would he just lie down and rest for a moment. He even refused food until Mr. Lupin convinced him that if he did not eat he would be no help to Harry." She whispered at him as she herded him back to his hospital bed on the other side of the room.
"He was exhausted and finally collapsed. How long has it been since he slept?" He whispered, allowing the woman to tuck him in bed. It was useless to protest with her, he had learned that the hard way when he was still a student at Hogwarts. Better that he cooperated with her now.
"I am not quite sure. I would say several days by the looks of him. The poor man hasn't left the boy's side since they first arrived here. Even helped with some of the simple healing spells." She shook her head. "He sure does love his son." Then she stopped her gossip and returned to 'nurse' mode. "Now you should sleep, you will feel much better tomorrow, you should be well enough to leave then."
Alexander watched as the school nurse walked away, quickly checking on Harry and Sirius before she departed to her office. He wondered if she knew who they were. He suspected that she did – she had certainly seen Sirius and James enough times in the hospital wing to know them. Would she tell anyone? Alexander doubted it. That woman was more concerned with everyone's health than the world around her. And anyone could see that as long as no one dared to threaten him or his son, Sirius was not dangerous.
Alexander heard footsteps enter into the infirmary. He quickly closed his eyes just incase Madame Pomphrey had decided to check up on them yet again. He did not want to be caught by her wraith, his wife had a temper enough for him, he did not need an enraged nurse. However the footsteps did not sound like those of Poppy Pomphrey's, instead they sounded vaguely familiar, ones that he had not heard in years.
Unable to stop himself, Alexander opened his eyes, and stared up into a bright pair of glittering blues eyes from his youth. He blinked and sat up.
"Professor?" He gaped.
"Alexander Brown. It's a pleasure seeing you again, although the circumstances are not quite what I would have wished for." He said pleasantly. "When it is convenient for you, as I was told not to bother you for very long, could you please come up to my office. The password, as of today, is gobstoppers."
"I can talk with you right now if you wish, sir." Alexander sat up straighter just like he did when he was younger to report to the minister.
"No. I do not wish an angry nurse on my hands, and you look as if you could use a few hours rest. It is not urgent however, I would like to know what happened." The twinkle in the old man's eyes seemed dimmed; actually it was much diminished from the days when Alexander went to Hogwarts.
"Yes sir." Alexander nodded and fell back into bed.
He must have been more exhausted than he thought for he fell asleep even before the headmaster had left the room.
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Oblivion was beginning to disappear from his grasp. He could feel it. He remembered now. He remembered everything. He did not want to return to consciousness. He deserved it though. He did not want to return to the torment that had assaulted him in Azkaban. There was nothing in life for him. Despite his desire to remain in oblivion, he could not. He knew that he could not even as feeling began to come back to him.
Slowly the dark nothingness disappeared. He felt a soft surface beneath him. There was something lying atop his body, something light. And for the first time he could remember since entering Azkaban he was warm. It was a strange feeling. He liked it. Harry loosened his hold on oblivion.
Suddenly pain slammed into him. His whole body ached. His chest ached with every breath he took. Every muscle in his arms and legs ached. Especially the arm that he had wounded . . .before oblivion.
The shock of the pain completely broke his fragile hold on oblivion.
And for the first time in days Harry Potter's eyes opened.
A bright light assailed his eyes nearly blinding him. Harry quickly closed his eyes unable to stand the brightness. Unable to float in oblivion, Harry just did not think, unable to do so as his senses overwhelmed him. The pain in his chest increased with every breath he took. He could see light even through his closed eyelids. His head hurt even as the light seemed to dim a little. He did not move. He did not dare move. Not yet.
Where was he? He could not possibly be in Azkaban. It was colder in Azkaban, much colder. And . . .gloomier. There were no memories bombarding him. He was not reliving the past over and over again. He did not deserve this peace from Azkaban. Wherever he was, he did not deserve it. The agony that had once dominated his body was gone and in its place only a light throbbing pain remained.
Harry twitched his fingers lightly. He was fearful of moving lest this all be a dream. Nothing changed. His fingers did not ache with cold when he moved them. Slowly he began to feel the area about him. There was a blanket covering him, a rather heavy blanket. The mattress upon which he was laying was not very big, hardly large enough to accommodate two people, but it was huge compared to his tiny bed at the Dursleys.
Freak.
The words rang out in his mind even as he remembered them. He could feel invisible pain shoot up and down his body as if his uncle was beating him at that very moment. Please no. Please. He'd do anything they asked.
Harry whimpered softly.
Kill the spare.
Harry could stand no more and wrenched his eyes open. A bright light assailed him, but he did not care even as he lay there panting. It should have been him. He should have died instead of Cedric.
It took Harry moments before he realized what he was seeing. There high above him was a vaulted ceiling. He turned his head to see a white wall . . . No that wasn't a white wall, that was a curtain. Slowly Harry turned his head about looking around his surroundings. A white curtain surrounded him at all sides except for behind. Behind him there was a stone wall. If he did not know any better he would say that he was at Hogwarts. But that wasn't possible. The last thing he remembered, as if it was a ghost dream, was running through a forest chased by Voldemort himself . . . No it hadn't been Voldemort, it had been Wormtail and Voldemort. Hadn't it?
If this wasn't Hogwarts, then where was he?
It just had to be Hogwarts.
But how was it he was here then? There was no one who would care for him. He did not deserve anyone's love or care. He was a freak. He was a murderer.
If someone had brought him there why were they not there now? Sirius would have stayed with Harry wouldn't he?
No. He wouldn't have. It would have risked his freedom. That was a selfish wish. Harry felt terrible for hoping it, and yet still a part of him hoped that Sirius was here.
There was no black haired man within his limited sight that he could see.
With that the small bubble of hope that Harry had within him was crushed. Why would Sirius want to risk his freedom for a murderer? Why would he want to risk his life for Harry? Why had Harry even hoped that Sirius was? Sirius did not love him. Sirius had never loved him. He had always been just James' son to his godfather.
The Weasleys did not have time for a young orphan boy – no he was a murderer and did not deserve to have the sympathy of people such as the Weasleys. They would not give him sympathy now. Not after they had known that he had killed Cedric. They had only put on a brave face at the end of the year so that he did not kill them as well. What would they care what happened to him? Certainly not because he cared about them.
He did not deserve to live. He should have died. Or remained in Azkaban.
What about that man who had saved him from Azkaban? What had happened to him? The last thing that Harry had seen was the man assaulted by many different dark shadows, even as he had run as the man had instructed him to do so. There was no way that the man would have survived, Auror or no, the man had died to save Harry.
It was his fault the man had died. He should have just killed the man himself.
It was suddenly too much. Harry felt exhausted. He decided that the possible nightmares that he could have would be no worse than his waking thoughts. With that Harry closed his eyes and began to drift off.
Even as he began to drift off the soft sound of footsteps could be heard approaching Harry's little sanctuary . . .
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End chapter 16
A/N: I hope that this chapter was alright and I'm very sorry for the long wait. I would like to thank all those who offered to Beta for me. Thank you to Sarah who betaed this chapter for me. And thank you so much to all who reviewed. Hope you had a happy holiday.