The Snake's Eye
Chapter 62
"Kill him!" Harry heard himself screeching in a cold voice.
His vision bloomed into colour and Harry watched a large black dog right in front of his eyes, leaping out of the way just as Harry moved to sink his teeth into him. When he turned, he felt jaws clamped on his tail. Enraged and in pain, he thrashed him with his injured tail, feeling satisfaction when the dog whined in pain. The Animagus bounded out of the room and Harry gave chase, wanting nothing but to see it dead.
When Harry attacked again, he missed the dog's neck for which he had been going for by a hair's breadth, but felt triumph when he sunk his fangs into its shoulders instead. Warm, delicious blood gushed from beneath flesh and intending to finish the dog, which had turned into a man again, once and for all, he reared when the unthinkable happened. A wand had jumped into the man's hand in the blink of an eye and he bellowed, "Avada Kedavra!"
Harry saw the green rushing towards him, and felt it hit him with the force of an iron-clad punch, when there was no more.
oOo
Hestia scribbled on the scroll of parchment, striking out and revising a few bungling sentences by the anonymous writer, whose manuscript she had been assigned. Working as a copyeditor for the better part of a decade, Hestia usually managed to get most of her job done from her home. It served her well as she could spend a significant portion of her time researching or dabbling in other subjects that she found profoundly fascinating than proofreading a handbook about Fifty Venomous Toadstools and Their Uses in Potion-Making and the ilk.
Since Gwen came to stay with her however, Hestia was unable to spend much time doing what she loved. While it had only been a few weeks since she moved in temporarily, the added company was getting to her. Gwen, who was usually engaged in training for the better part of her time and the rest spent in parties and luncheons and fan events, was utterly bored by the lack of it all.
"Why don't we go to a pub tonight?" asked Gwen, who was lying flat on the couch with her legs propped up against the armrest. Hestia was so absorbed in her work that she did not respond to her comment immediately.
Gwen scoffed. "It's like talking to a brick wall," she grumbled. "I bet you wouldn't even hear me if I said I'm going to kick that idiotic cat of yours."
Hestia lifted her head up by a fraction to look at Newt, who was curled up against Hestia's leg with his eyes closed. "Don't be mean to him," she remarked offhandedly.
"Your cat decided to throw up all over my bathtub this morning," griped Gwen. "It's having it out for me."
"He does not take well with anyone, not just you" said Hestia consolingly. "You shouldn't take it personally, Gwen; it didn't mean anything, did it, Newt?" she addressed her beloved pet, which woke up and stretched lazily.
Newt gave a soft meow and Hestia smiled in approval. Gwen eyed the cat warily, "He isn't even sorry he did it, the little monster."
Hestia could not blame Gwen for her resentment towards Newt, for her cat did seem to go out of his way to annoy her in some manner since she had arrived. Hestia could not get him to stop it either and she was resigned to the fact that she would have to live with their mutual hostility under her roof. Hestia finished her work and cleared up the writing desk, yawning and stretching herself. "I think I'm going to retire for the night."
"You can't go to sleep just yet! Come on, it's Hallowe'en night! Just a pint or two 'round the pub in Lower Flagley," pleaded Gwen, sitting up. "I'm bored to tears!"
"Here's an idea," said Hestia, "You can stay in tonight and go to Headquarters first thing in the morning when I'm off to work. I'm sure it will be far more exciting than it is here."
"It would be if only Sirius stayed around," muttered Gwen, disgruntled. "He never seems to make it there outside of Order meetings."
Hestia blinked, unable to say anything further without igniting a side of Gwen that she would rather not have to deal with at the moment.
"Remus and Tonks are wonderful to have around," said Hestia reasonably. "And any day with those Weasley boys is sure to be interesting."
Gwen sighed, rolling her eyes. "Sure it is."
Hestia was distracted when she heard Newt mewing from beside the front door, probably wanting to be let outside for the night. She turned to Gwen. "We'll head out tomorrow, okay? I'm too tired tonight."
"Alright, fine," said Gwen irritably, before turning to head upstairs to her room. Newt was growing impatient, scratching against the door. "Hold on there, I'm coming," Hestia said exasperatedly, making her way towards him.
When she pulled open the door to let Newt out, she felt the door swing open with more force than she had intended, and Hestia let out a small cry of shock – someone had been slumped against the door, and they fell forward with a thump. Hestia's initial fear that it could be a Death Eater, made her stagger and pull out her wand, when the light from her porch illuminated the dark form lying on her doorway surrounded by a pool of blood. Newt was sniffing curiously while trying to stay a safe distance away from the scene.
"Sirius?" Hestia couldn't help her high-pitched voice as she crouched down to his side and lifted his head to rest on her leg, alarmed by the lack of response. With his clothes soaked in blood, it was hard to tell where he was injured. It reminded her entirely of seeing Dedalus just after he'd been murdered.
A small part of her was wondering if he had been killed and dumped on her doorstep, but she firmly shut the thought down, when she checked his pulse which was weak and thready, but still definitely there. She noted the tear in his robes on his shoulder. The blood was warm and steadily flowing – clearly a recent injury.
Gwen, who had heard her startled cry, came thundering down the stairs with her wand out, making Newt flee. She skittered to a halt when she saw who it was. "Sirius! What—How—?"
Hestia didn't have time to respond to Gwen, for her instincts kicked in. She quickly conjured bandages that wrapped haphazardly around his shoulder and his arm to stop the flow of blood. She stood up with her wand raised and levitated him inside the house, speaking to her cousin hurriedly, "Gwen, I need you to make sure the enchantments around the house are secure. And send a Patronus to Remus immediately!"
It was a testament to how out of her depth Gwen was that she did not oppose a single word of hers. Hestia recoiled when she saw the amount of blood that had pooled near the doorway. Either his wound was too deep or he had been out here for far longer than she had assumed. She levitated him inside her bedroom which was the nearest and deposited him into her bed where she could see in full view the extent of his injuries.
She removed the makeshift strapping and immediately blood started to seep out. She took off his travelling cloak and the shirt that he had been wearing with a wave of her wand, which was nearly completely soaked in blood. She turned him on his side and wiped her hand across his shoulder, lifting away the blood to reveal the nature of his injury and gasped when she saw two deep puncture wounds – bite marks – caused by fangs if she was not mistaken.
She murmured the incantation that she was confident would heal open wounds, but to her astonishment, she found that it wouldn't heal. Hestia had heard of only one case in her life when wounds had not closed upon using the healing charm – Arthur Weasley.
Had Sirius been attacked by Nagini, the snake that Voldemort kept as a pet?
Hestia felt a growing worry. It was a good thing she supposed that she had trained to become a Healer, before she had dropped out. She could not have kept her head straight if she didn't have her training with her.
She pressed hard into his wound with one hand, and used her other to wave her wand, cleaning away the blood, which seemed to have already begun to dry on his skin. How long had he been outside her door and steadily bleeding for?
She decided to conjure bandages from thin air again and ensured they were properly wrapped around his shoulder, when Gwen appeared at the doorframe.
"Remus is on his way," she announced before glancing at him. "You don't think he's…?"
"He is holding on but only barely. He's lost more blood than he's got now and if we don't take him to St. Mungo's, he'll…" Hestia did not want to finish that sentence.
"We can't take him to St. Mungo's!" exclaimed Gwen.
Hestia knew that as well – it would be a one-way trip to Azkaban and most certainly death for Sirius.
"Can't you do something?" asked Gwen, desperately.
Hestia ignored her question and summoned her house-elf, who appeared immediately. "Teeny, get me every last bottle of the Blood Replenishing Potion that we have."
The elf disappeared with her command and at that moment, there was a sharp knock on the door and both Hestia and Gwen tensed. "It should be Remus," said Gwen, heading over to check. Hestia held her wand, just in case, but it really did turn out to be Remus, with bloodshot eyes and rumpled hair and seemingly having come straight from bed after having thrown a dressing gown over his pajamas.
Hestia wasted no time in explaining to Remus what had happened, the latter's face lined with apprehension when she suggested her assumption that Sirius could have been attacked by Nagini. Remus glanced at Sirius's half-naked prone form on her bed. "We can't take him to St. Mungo's. We will have to make do with something of our own."
"I've stabilized him for the time being with the bandages," said Hestia, "and I have got some Blood Replenishing Potion, which we're going to need a lot more of, but the wound remains open, not unless we find out what Arthur Weasley was given by the Healers."
"We cannot just barge into St. Mungo's and find the Healer who fixed up Arthur," said Remus.
"I believe it was Healer Smethwyck, if I remember correctly," said Hestia, who grimaced. "I know Smethwyck from long back and he's a Muggleborn. There's no way for us to say he still works in St. Mungo's. He's either in Azkaban by now or in hiding."
A defeated expression took over Remus' face, before he tried to keep his calm. "Alright then. What if we tried to get our hands on the patient's records? Surely, they must have notes on the exact antidote they had to concoct seeing as it was a special case?"
"Yes, they do keep a record," said Hestia nodding. "But it's not available for access by anyone without a special permission from none other than the Head of St. Mungo's himself."
Gwen spoke up, "That's perfect! You can get it then, can't you Hestia?"
Hestia felt her stomach churn at the idea. Remus glanced at her inquisitively, "Do you know the Head of St. Mungo's?"
Hestia gave a reluctant nod. "I—I studied to become a Healer before I dropped out."
Remus frowned before asking hopefully, "If you do get the record for the antidote, will you be able to make it?"
Hestia did not like the fact that Remus had already mentally agreed with Gwen's suggestion that she ought to be the one to go to St. Mungo's. But a more sensible part of her, knew that it was the logical choice. She glanced back at Sirius, whose skin was so pale that he appeared grey against the stark white sheets. She could hardly make out his chest rising or falling with his shallow breathing and the thought that he could very well die if she did not do this, was what strengthened her resolve. She nodded.
oOo
Saturday, November1
Rage. Inundated by blinding rage, he glanced at the fallen house. Two Hit-Wizards who had been on the scene blanched at the sight of him. They did not have the time to scream or Apparate for they fell in two swift slashes from his wand. He cast aside their worthless corpses and made his way into the open door, glancing around him – the house where his nightmares began and ended, seemingly abandoned for years judging by the thick layer of dust which had settled over everything.
There were marks on the floor where it seemed like the grime had been disturbed – human footprints, large paw prints – and there by the base of the staircase lay the scaly length of his beloved Nagini, coiled over a pool of blood, right where he had murdered James Potter all those years ago on the very same day.
He let out a scream of fury, and felt the end of his wand spit out a shower of angry green sparks.
He knew who had done it; he had seen him do it.
He will pay for what he did.
When Harry woke up with a throbbing headache, he was momentarily unaware of where he was and what he was doing in a rundown cabin instead of the house he had been in. It took him a few precious moments for him to recognize that he was indeed in a familiar place, seeing as he had been living here for… however long it was.
He sat up on the bed, trying to recollect what he had seen, the pulsing in his scar making itself known rather insistently. He had the fuzziest inclination that he had attacked someone but he couldn't remember if it had been himself or if he had been looking into Voldemort's mind again. He would pin his hopes up on the latter, since he was certain that it would seem more likely. Still, there was a distinct feeling that he ought to know the man he had attacked in his dream. He buried his face into his hands, trying to recall, but all he could hark back to was a blinding flash of green light aimed straight at him. The resulting panic made his heart beat a violent tattoo against his chest, his breaths growing heavier.
He willed himself to calm down when he began to feel his heart flutter errantly, and slowly his breathing evened. He had broken into a cold sweat and thinking to take a shower, he undressed himself and went into the small bathroom. The cold water stung like icy needles on his skin, but Harry didn't mind the discomfort. It made him feel grounded in reality instead of panicking about imaginary attacks. He didn't know when he sat down, but he found himself on the dark floor, deep in his thoughts, water raining down all around him.
Even though Harry had realized that there was something going on within his mind and Voldemort's, he still could not understand exactly what and more importantly, why it was happening. One thing alone was clear: Harry's nightmares were getting progressively worse, so much so that sometimes, Harry would be wide awake and sitting up, but he would be unable to see anything of his surroundings except for what he could perceive inside his head.
Demelza was growing fearful when she couldn't snap him out of it as easily as she could earlier. Harry had grown increasingly agitated by her insistence that he go back home, that the previous night he snapped and locked himself inside the single bedroom, not heeding when Demelza alternatively apologized or yelled her head off at him from the other side of the door, before relenting and leaving him in peace.
It wasn't that Harry did not understand her concern – but Harry was afraid of what would happen to him if he did let someone know of what was going on inside his head. Would everyone know how deeply he had travelled into Voldemort's mind? Would they be repulsed by the fact that a part of him was beginning to look forward to his trips into the other's thoughts even though it put him in terrible pain, even though he hated what he was seeing? What did that say about him?
He didn't have answers to any of that and he did not think anyone would understand the yearning he felt to slip into the other's mind, the feeling of rightness – he knew it sounded bizarre and possibly quite dark, but Harry didn't think it was harmful. Voldemort did not seem to have noticed his presence inside his head and he reckoned it would be useful for him if he maintained the connection with his mind. With no clues leading to the Horcruxes, Harry was banking on the fact that he would be able to find it in his own mind, someday or the other. The only thing Harry was more intrigued about at the moment was the Elder Wand. He had seen Voldemort searching for it, travelling out of the country the previous evening – the daydream that had made Demelza anxious. Though Harry presumed it was an all-powerful wand, he needed to know more about it and was planning on visiting The Archive once more.
He would have to take Demelza with him this time – of that he was certain. He did not wish to have another one of his time lapse, not when he was in Knockturn Alley.
Speaking of whom… Harry got up, wondering where she had gotten to. He turned off the shower and had only just stepped outside, when he heard someone rapping against the door.
"Harry? You're not still angry with me are you? Please, I've said I'm—"
Harry opened the door to his room, and Demelza jumped back with a small scream. She stammered, averting her eyes, "W-what the bloody hell are you—?"
Harry glanced down at himself alarmed, assuming that he might have come out unclothed. He sighed in mild relief when he saw his towel wrapped around his waist.
"Come off it!" he exclaimed. "It's not like I'm here stark-naked."
Demelza had covered her eyes with one hand and edged around him. The uncertain, pleading tone in her voice only moments earlier was replaced with a sharp edge. "You don't get to expect the same from me! Out!"
She shoved him out of the room and with an almighty bang, she shut the door, leaving him standing outside in nothing but his towel. He thumped across the door in frustration, "Hey, Demelza! I need to take my clothes!"
The door opened a smidgen and his rucksack flew out of the room before slamming shut again. Grumbling under his breath, he picked it up and pulled it open, searching inside for a t-shirt and jeans while wondering how Demelza managed to be endearing but also downright infuriating at times.
Fully clad, he headed downstairs and found Twitchet, announcing that he would be heading out with Demelza. Harry went ahead and prepared himself, stuffing his invisibility cloak into the jacket he would be wearing. He pulled out the flagon of Polyjuice Potion he had in his rucksack and transferred some of its contents into two vials he had conjured. He stoppered them and slipped them into his jacket as well, when Demelza traipsed down the stairs, her hair sopping wet.
"We're heading out for breakfast," he announced without preamble, pulling on his rucksack.
Demelza was taken aback before she gave a proper smile. "Really? Oh, I'd love to stretch my legs for at least a little while! Why the sudden idea though?"
"I need to go to Knockturn Alley."
Demelza's smile faltered. "Knockturn Alley? Harry, I'm not sure that's a good idea…"
"Look, I have to go there, with you or without. But since the last time I ventured out, I think it's better if you came along with me. I don't want to end up having those lapses and wandering somewhere I shouldn't."
Demelza gave a curiously relieved smile. "You're right, Harry. I'll come with you. I can't be left behind here and keep worrying myself to death anyway."
Harry nodded, grateful that they could agree on something. "Breakfast first. Come on then."
He led her out to the boat tied to the pier, bobbing against the relatively calm waves and helped her onto it before he hopped in as well. Harry waved his wand and the boat set off.
"Where to in Knockturn Alley?" Demelza asked.
"A very old library," answered Harry, keeping his wand aloft and concentrating on his Locomotion charm.
"A library," Demelza repeated quietly to herself. "I don't suppose you'll let me know why we need to go to a library?"
"Why does anyone go to a library? To gather information of course," said Harry easily.
Demelza huffed. "Of course," she muttered. She glanced around at the sea quietly for a moment before she spoke again. "We will be disguised, right?"
"I have Polyjuice on me for the both of us," said Harry, tapping his rucksack with his wandless arm. "We'll grab a quick bite in some Muggle place close by and find someone to impersonate."
Demelza nodded, looking rather anxious. "I've never taken Polyjuice Potion. What does it taste like?"
"Like whoever you're impersonating," said Harry, snorting when Demelza's eyebrows flew into her hairline.
"That sounds disgusting," she groused.
They made it to the shore and Harry ensured the boat was tied up and concealed with a few Muggle Repelling charms, before they set off together.
They Apparated to a café that Harry had known would be close by and had a full English breakfast, much to Demelza's delight. She seemed inordinately pleased to be outside, happy to simply watch the Muggles go about their business.
"This is surreal," she remarked, watching a Muggle couple just across from their table. Harry raised an eyebrow at her and she explained, "To think that there's a war going on and they don't even know it."
Harry looked at the Muggles as well: a young, blonde girl who had an upturned nose and dressed in a tan coat and the man, presumably her boyfriend, was lanky with auburn hair and wore layers of jumpers. Fleetingly, Harry thought the man reminded him of someone familiar, but he couldn't place a finger on it. Harry said to Demelza, "I'll be right back."
He stood up, when Demelza asked him with a hint of fear. "Wait, where are you going?"
"I need to get the hairs for our Polyjuice."
She nodded in understanding and Harry headed to the empty loo, where he put on the invisibility cloak. Making his way out and ensuring he was well alone in a corner of the café, he pointed his wand at the boy. He summoned a lock of hair from each of them, vaguely amused when the boy rubbed his head absently. He headed back into the loo and stuffed the cloak into his pockets before he made his way back to Demelza. He paid for the food and they left the café, strolling along to find a disused alleyway, where they both took their Polyjuice Potions.
"That actually didn't taste as bad as I thought," stated the blonde girl, who was Demelza. She glanced at him and grinned, "You look like you could be one of Ron's family! You could pass for a Weasley."
Harry flinched. It sounded odd hearing his friend's name after a very long time, yet Harry couldn't immediately recall a face to the name. But he ought to know that! How could he not remember? Why could he not remember?
Demelza looked up at him, concerned. "Why are you looking peaky all of a sudden?"
Harry automatically said, "I'm fine," before shaking his head. There would be time to worry about that later.
"We've got to change into robes," said Harry, pulling out a set of robes for himself and Demelza. "We need to look and act like purebloods so we don't draw suspicion."
"Why do you have girl's robes in your rucksack?" asked Demelza, giggling.
"That's mine," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "Twitchet charmed it for you."
"Oh," she said simply before looking around herself. "But where do we change?"
Harry was undressing right in front of her and Demelza stared aghast. "There's no effing way, Potter!"
Harry pulled out his Invisibility cloak and tossed it to her. "You're welcome," he said unceremoniously.
Demelza looked at him and then at the cloak in awe before she disappeared underneath it.
Once they were both fully dressed, and Harry had briefed her about their fake identities and the story that they ought to keep up, they Disapparated together to Knockturn Alley.
oOo
The Archive was as unwelcoming as ever, despite the contrary to its librarian. The old warlock however, was not as cheery as he had been the last time Harry was around. Though Harry would have liked to have met the warlock again in his old disguise and save the need to create a new story for himself, it was startlingly clear that the old man was not as jovial this time around.
He seemed more suspicious of Harry than he had been earlier, probing for his family history. Harry had stuck to the story that he and Demelza were Zabinis – (Liam and Maya as Demelza had happily named them), the only name Harry could think of that would not make them out to be Death Eaters, but still keep their names in the clear.
He gave a sigh of relief when the old warlock finally believed him and he ushered them into the inner portion of the building, Demelza sticking close to him. "That was daunting," she whispered in his ear. "Can we please find whatever we need and get out of here fast?"
Harry agreed with her sentiment. He asked to be guided on books about wands and the Librarian steered him to the relevant section, leaving them to it.
Demelza was eager to help and Harry thought it wouldn't be so bad if she helped speed things along. With the barest details about the Elder wand and the fact that it could be a very powerful one, they set off perusing the shelves, sieving through books to find anything they could.
It was a long while later that Harry stumbled on a book called Modern Magical Myths by Ianto Adalbero that was published in the early nineteen hundreds did he finally have a clue as to what he was searching for.
Harry was engrossed in the story of the Deathly Hallows and the knowledge that it stemmed from a children's fairytale. The lore of the Wand of Destiny, the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility which made up the Deathly Hallows spoke of the objects to be of unimaginable power and had captured the imaginations of witches and wizards for centuries. Adalbero remarked that there were witches and wizards who still believed in the legend and the idea that it could make someone Master of Death had been coveted since. While the stone and the cloak seemed to have been lost, the Elder Wand or the Wand of Destiny had been around for just as long as the tale, which was the only real clue that the story could possibly be true.
Harry did not know how to feel about it all and he had the stirrings of a headache coming on. He felt groggy and his eyes were getting heavy. He rubbed his temples, still trying to hold on to his train of thought.
Was Voldemort searching for all the Hallows or only the Elder Wand? Harry reasoned that it would be ludicrous to go on a wild goose chase in an attempt for power, when he already had the Horcruxes. He would not be defeated by even the most powerful wand that existed, since he had the Horcruxes. But, what if he wanted to be the one to wield it? Would Harry even stand a chance?
The Elder Wand – a wand that was notorious for having caused the deaths of countless wizards and witches throughout history who had claimed that they had found it. Harry thought back to what he had seen in Voldemort's mind – Voldemort had suspected Gregorovitch to have it. Though Harry still thought he had heard the name somewhere, it wouldn't be of much use now. Gregorovitch didn't have it anymore as it was stolen by the merry-faced thief.
He glanced up from his book, pondering. Voldemort was yet to find who it was and Harry lamented the fact that there was nothing much he could do to find the thief's identity. He glimpsed a blonde girl just a few seats away, perusing a book avidly. Harry wondered when she had seated herself close by – he certainly had not seen her turn up there.
There was nothing much he could find now about the Elder Wand and he was spent. Thinking of heading back home, Harry stood up and placed the book back in a shelf before he headed to the front. He was only thanking the Librarian and leaving when he heard fast footfalls behind him, "Liam! Liam, wait!"
Harry frowned, wondering who this Liam was, but turned nonetheless as there did not seem to be anyone else around. The blonde girl was huffing and puffing, "You could have told me we're leaving!"
"Er—Why?" asked Harry, puzzled.
The girl looked at him, flabbergasted, when the Librarian tutted, "You oughtta keep your family together, Liam! Not the best of times to leave your sister behind."
Harry stared at the man in disbelief. Liam? Sister? Obviously this man had got it all wrong. He was Harry, not Liam.
"Thank you, sir," the blonde girl smiled nervously, before she dragged Harry out to an abandoned alleyway. Harry hissed in annoyance. "Who are you and what the bloody hell do you want with me?"
The girl muttered through gritted teeth. "Seriously Potter, if you think you're being funny, I'm going to kick your arse!"
Harry froze. "How do you know my name?"
The girl stared at him, equal parts annoyed and alarmed. "What the devil do you mean, Harry? Have you forgotten that I've been Polyjuiced?"
Harry couldn't understand a word she was saying. Polyjuiced?
"You brought me here! I'm Demelza, you prat!" she whispered, rather desperately.
Demelza. Demelza – he knew that name. It was like his head had been deep under water and someone had finally hauled him up to break the surface of it to breathe in a lungful of air.
"Demelza?" he whispered back, still quite skeptical.
"Yes, it's me!" she hissed, before shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you forgot that we've been Polyjuiced."
Harry could not remember that he had been Polyjuiced as well. He glanced down at his hands and felt like he was looking at someone else's hands. Those certainly weren't his.
"Oh, God! Please take us back to the cabin, Harry," she said. Harry nodded dumbly, unaware that he did so. He caught hold of her hand and Disapparated, right to the shore where the boat was tied, the water glinting in the afternoon sunlight.
The journey back was quiet, the girl (Demelza, Harry corrected himself) shooting odd glances at him. When they got inside the cabin, Harry headed straight to the bathroom upstairs and shut the door, ignoring Demelza's hesitant calling.
He leaned against the sink and glanced into the small, grimy mirror that Harry hardly ever used. What he saw looking back at him was an entirely different person that Harry jumped back in alarm. His heart was beating rapidly and it took him a long moment to remember Demelza's words that he was Polyjuiced.
Harry screwed his eyes shut, and huffed, willing himself to calm down. He was unable to control his racing thoughts, the need to understand what was happening to him, and why he couldn't quite control the anger and fear within him. It didn't help that someone was pounding on his door, "Harry, you alright?"
Harry felt a sickeningly mad urge to choke the life out of her so she would never make a sound again. The thought made him feel revolted with himself and he banged the heel of his fist against the same door bellowing, "Piss off!"
The clatter ceased at once and all became quiet. He could only hear the sound of his heavy breaths for a long moment, before he heard the distinct sound of quiet footsteps, scurrying away.
Harry closed his eyes in relief, ignoring his aching fist. He didn't know for how long he stood there like that, but he awakened when he felt a tugging and pulling sensation all over his body. He glanced down to see his hands were transforming and in a few uncomfortable seconds, he was staring at a different pair of hands, just as unrecognizable as the other.
Spooked out by the thought, Harry looked into the little mirror again and found his eyes glued to what he was seeing: a boy with a mop of untidy, black hair reaching just past his ears was staring back at him. His face was thin and his skin lifeless; there were dark smudges below his eyes, which were almost hazel and his colourless lips were pulled into a grimace, as if he had long lost the habit of smiling.
If Harry had not known that he was standing in front of the mirror, he would not have believed it himself. He glanced down at his hands again, trying to commit it to memory, if he ever should forget how they looked like.
He thought back to the scene at the Archive when he had seemingly forgotten Demelza and left her behind. He could not understand how that had happened, yet he didn't have the energy to ponder as to the why either.
With deliberate effort, Harry made his way outside the loo and collapsed into the bed, fast asleep before his head even hit the pillow.
oOo
"Sirius?"
The man in question did not want to awaken just yet. He was comfortably warm and felt much rested than he had been in quite a long time.
"Are you awake, Sirius?"
All thanks to you, he thought sardonically. Sirius simply hummed to let the insistent voice above know that he had heard him but was not quite ready to wake up.
"Hestia put you under the good spells I see."
Sirius frowned. Hestia? What was she doing here?
"You really need to stop getting yourself hurt quite often, you know that?"
Sirius was growing annoyed with the incessant questioning. He opened his eyes to find Remus hovering over him, his face pinched in worry.
It took him a moment to take in the room he was in. It wasn't Potter Manor or the Combe Abbott, but the leaded windows and the ivory coloured draping were vaguely familiar. He glanced around curiously when Remus asked him, "Don't you remember Apparating here?"
Sirius blinked, thinking back to what had landed him in this place. His brain was working rather sluggishly, but he still remembered flashes of what had happened. "Nagini," he said shortly.
"Hestia was right then?" asked Remus, eyes furrowed in concern. "She seemed to think by the look of your wound that you could have been attacked by Nagini, just like Arthur had been at the Ministry."
Sirius nodded his head imperceptibly against the pillow and watched as Remus looked back at him flabbergasted. "Where did you – how did You-Know-Who's snake know where to find you?"
Sirius stared at the ceiling, unwilling to be the recipient of his friend's scrutiny. "Godric's Hollow," he said quietly.
There was a pregnant pause and though he was not looking at him, he imagined Remus gazing at him with some amount of pity. He saw Remus shake his head deliberately out of the corner of his eye. "You should have known better than to go there alone."
Sirius blinked, frowning. "I think he set it all up to capture Harry," he said, thinking out loud. "He must have assumed, like I did, that Harry would visit the place."
"To capture Harry?" repeated Remus, staring at him open-mouthed before he nodded in comprehension. "That does seem quite a plausible idea now that I think about it. I'm assuming Harry didn't come?"
Sirius' face must have shown how he felt about it as Remus said decisively, "And we should be glad he didn't!"
Sirius supposed that was true and so he did not retaliate.
"How ever did you escape if Nagini was waiting for you?"
"I killed her," said Sirius blithely. Remus made a sound between amazement and horror. "You – what?"
"I killed his snake." Sirius closed his eyes, feeling a measure of relief flow through him at saying those words aloud. He had destroyed a Horcrux – it had been quite a fruitful trip after all.
"I suppose congratulations are in order?" said Remus after a moment, shaking his head in disbelief.
Sirius snorted before looking around him. "Who else is here?"
"Only me, besides Hestia and Gwen," said Remus, moving to pull up the chair closer to his bed before seating himself in it. Sirius made the mistake of shifting to look at him better. He made a sound between a moan and a hiss when he felt the acerbic sting on his heavily bandaged shoulder.
"Don't move!" chided Remus, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back. "It's not healed yet."
"Hang on a second," said Sirius through gritted teeth, huffing out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "This isn't exactly like Arthur's wound, is it?"
Remus grimaced, "Unfortunately, it is."
Sirius mirrored his expression. He ought to have expected that – Arthur's wound had not closed due to the venom in Nagini's fangs, not until the Healer had whipped up a special antidote.
"I don't know what in Merlin's name you were thinking but it's a good thing you Apparated straight here to Hestia's," said Remus with a measure of frustration. "I shudder to imagine what would have happened if you had Apparated straight back home or even headquarters. With the Fidelius around, we would never have found you in time if you had collapsed outside the gates."
"I figured that."
"Then I'm glad to know you had some common sense even when you were bleeding to death," remarked Remus drily.
"Where is she?" asked Sirius.
"Hestia is visiting St. Mungo's. She says she knows the Head of St. Mungo's from a long time ago and if all goes well, she should be back anytime now."
Sirius felt his eyebrows knit together. "I'm not sure that's very wise, especially at the present time."
"We have no choice, do we?" said Remus, raising an eyebrow. "The last time Arthur was injured, the Healer who dealt with him, Smethwyck, concocted a special antidote just for him. But he was a Muggleborn and nobody knows where he is now. Hestia reckons she can pull a few strings and find the records for the antidote in St. Mungo's. Once she gets her hands on it, she thinks she should be able to make it herself. I never knew she had any experience in Healing before."
Though Sirius felt warmth spread through him on hearing that, he could not help but wonder if she was risking herself unnecessarily for him. If she was caught…
"I know what you're thinking," remarked Remus, glancing at him. "But she should be fine."
Someone interrupted them. "She's the only one of us who can show her face out in the open without being caught anyway." Gwenog Jones appeared in the doorway opposite to the bed Sirius was in. She gave him a brilliant smile. "It's nice to see you awake. You gave us quite a scare last night."
Remus explained, "Gwen contacted me as soon as they had found you outside their house. Hestia thinks you had been out for at least fifteen minutes before you were discovered, and that too only because she went to let her cat out for the night. How lucky was that?"
Lucky indeed, thought Sirius. He watched a willow tree swaying outside the window, and judging by the purple streaked sky, it seemed to be dusk or dawn, he couldn't tell which. "How long have I…?"
"Just a little under a day," answered Gwen. "My cousin thinks you'll have to stay at least until the antidote is found. That's a nasty bite you've got there. I think you nearly bled to death on our front door."
"Which reminds me," muttered Remus, waving his wand and conjuring a goblet of potion, making a motion with his hand for Sirius to sit up. "You have got to take it every hour," he explained when Sirius grumbled.
"You're the one who said I wasn't to move."
"And I am also the one saying otherwise."
Sirius sighed irritably. "The last thing I want to do is sit up."
"Quit being difficult and get up Sirius," Remus snapped causing Gwen to chuckle. Though his words were sharp, Remus' hands were gentle when he helped him to sit up against the pillows. Sirius narrowed his eyes when the entire world tilted and swayed, and a sharp burning sensation shot up the entirety of his left arm and back. He pressed his lips together, unwilling to make a sound, very much aware of Gwen still in the room.
Remus thrust the goblet under his nose and Sirius took hold of it with his uninjured hand.
The potion was as bitter as he remembered it and he grimaced, allowing the low voices of Remus and Gwen talking amongst each other to wash over him. Sirius sipped at the vile potion slowly when he thought he heard the faint sound of a cat mewing somewhere in the house.
A moment later the sounds of the front door clattering open made Remus and Gwen take notice. "That's probably Hestia," said Gwen, and the former made her way to their room.
Tired and in dishevelled robes, she still managed to draw his eye. Hestia caught sight of him sitting up and gave a small smile of relief despite the worried frown marring her features. "You've got terrible luck," she said by way of welcome.
"You couldn't get the antidote?" Remus asked from beside him, sounding like something had caught in his throat.
"Oh, I found the record alright," said Hestia wearily, waving a scroll of parchment in her hand. "But sourcing the ingredients and making it? I'm not sure if I'm the right person for the job."
Sirius smiled wryly, feeling the conversation sounded entirely familiar.
"We don't have any Potions prodigies in the Order, do we?" asked Remus aloud. "Until last year, only Snape would—"
Sirius shot Remus a nasty glare. "He'd sooner poison me than heal me. Besides, if anyone can do it, it should be Hestia."
"We could ask Cecilia Abbott's help…" suggested Hestia, seemingly not having heard him. "Edmund Abbott's mother. She's a Healer, or was before she retired…"
"No," cut-in Sirius. "Any outside help is a risk I'm not willing to take and not on my behalf. You're the only one of us with any Healing experience. No one could be more qualified than you."
Hestia shook her head. "That was ages ago…"
Sirius wisely noted that she did not disagree with his statement. Honestly, she ought to give him more credit than that – not all witches and wizards could say they were smart enough to research into the rarest incurable diseases known to wizardkind and claim that they were anywhere near a breakthrough.
"I'm afraid we don't have a choice," said Sirius.
Hestia gave him a look that was between exasperation and anxiousness. "Do you even understand how dangerous it could be if I messed up, Sirius? I can't ply you with Blood Replenishing potions forever, you know."
"I'm sure you won't make a hash of it," he said. Why she kept second-guessing herself was anyone's guess, but Sirius would not have her lack of confidence be a reason to shirk her duty when it came to matters of the Order. Because, it was just that – a matter of the Order, which meant they needed all hands, both willing and unwilling.
"You're the best we have for now. And besides, Cecilia Abbott is in hiding as is their entire family. Edmund says they were already targeted last year even under Scrimgeour's ministry and they won't take any risks. We shouldn't be the ones responsible for getting them into more danger by getting involved with us now, should we?"
Hestia wrung her hands together, upset by the information. "I won't lie and tell you I'm terrible at Potions. I'm certain I'll get the antidote right somehow. But you should know that Blood replenishing Potions work only to an extent. Its potency wanes over time since your body could become immune to its effect. And at the rate at which you're losing blood, there's a definite possibility of that happening within a couple weeks or even sooner. The longer it takes for me to brew the potion, the greater the chance that you're…" she trailed off uncertainly.
"At risk of dying," finished Remus, his jaw tensing.
"And you'll be unable to Apparate," added Gwen solemnly, "which means you're stuck here. If something were to go wrong, you wouldn't even be able to escape or fight back."
"Then, we'll do the Fidelius here," said Hestia suddenly, as if it had only just occurred to her.
Sirius was already shaking his head. "If you do that, you're putting yourself on their watchlist."
"Hestia's house isn't being watched," pointed out Gwen. "They won't even know about it if the Fidelius was done here."
"Not straightaway, no. But you will stop receiving post – newspapers, messages from work or friends. It will be loud and clear for the Ministry to understand what's going on and they will suspect you have something to hide. It won't be too difficult to connect you with Dedalus either."
Remus began to say, "Sirius, if it saves your life—"
"Let's not rush into the Fidelius, at least not yet," said Sirius wearily and with an air of finality that would brook no argument. "The last place anyone expects me to be is here. Our protective enchantments will hold for now."
"I agree with Remus though," said Gwen.
Remus, who had been holding Sirius' gaze and contemplating his words, addressed both the women. "But Sirius is right. It is not viable if every single one of our homes was under the Fidelius. If it had been, then Sirius might not have been able to get the help as he did last night, could he?"
Sirius nodded in relief, glad that Remus understood his reasoning.
"We will work on strengthening our protection here. I can get Percy and Proudfoot to help with that," said Remus, before turning to Gwen. "Are you coming with me, Gwen? This should be the right time as any for you to learn how it is done."
Gwen departed with him, though Sirius saw her glance back at him dolefully. He watched them leave and shook his head, amused at Remus having subtly ushered Gwen out of the room. The sly git.
Hestia glanced back at him, raising an inquiring eyebrow, but her voice was pleading. "You won't change your mind then?"
"About what?"
"The Fidelius? Cecilia Abbott? Everything!" she said apprehensively. "I don't like any of this."
"I have full faith in you," said Sirius sincerely, before adding with a smirk. "And I'm not just saying that to get you to fancy me."
Hestia made a sound between amusement and disbelief, her tense posture relaxing. "You're very good at doing that," she said, pressing her lips together, containing her smile.
"I'm flattered," he smirked and Hestia rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
Sirius absently turned to set aside the goblet on his bedside, completely forgetting Remus' warning and the movement jostled his shoulder. The stinging felt sharp and white-hot and his vision went completely black for a few moments. He swore under his breath and ended up dropping the goblet which shattered on the floor.
Hestia was at his side, waving her wand and the broken goblet and spilled potion vanished from the floor. "You need to lie down," she said before remarking, "You're as white as a sheet."
Hestia helped to manoeuvre him to lie back and Sirius, still with his eyes screwed shut, muttered, "Not a very good look on me, I agree."
Hestia spoke rather grimly. "It's a right sight better than you bleeding all over me. Turn to your side; your bandages will need to be changed."
Sirius did, as he was told, feeling rather drained all of a sudden. He was already drifting to unconsciousness when he heard Hestia saying something to him, the details of which he could not make out. And if he felt something feather light brush against his cheek, it was surely his own fanciful imagination.
oOo
A/N: Reviews let me know what my readers are thinking when you read my chapters :)
Virtual cookies to the 600th follower – I Love Professor R.J. Lupin. Me too, my friend, me too.
