A Marauder To The Last

Part Two

Sirius

The magnificent fireplace in the main parlor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place crackled in an ominous manner unique to the strange old house. With a sigh, Sirius put his feet up on the green leather ottoman and stared grimly into the flames, entertaining dark fantasies about what he would do to Peter Pettigrew and the rest of his scumbag friends- as soon as he could get out of this house, that was.

The door slammed closed, and Sirius jerked up. Could it be-? A mission, finally? But no, the footsteps were too familiar. He slumped back down into his chair as Remus trudged into the room, looking pale and weary and bleeding from a gash on one cheek. Sirius had spent all last night with him, as it had been the full moon, but it was a fallacy of days long gone. Instead of lightening the monotony, it had turned it into a deeper sort of misery.

"Doing all right, Pads?" asked Remus as he collapsed into an armchair, glancing at his friend sideways. Sirius hated it when he did that. He knew he was being handled like a bomb, liable to explode in someone's face at the slightest provocation, and the worst part was that it probably was safer to step careful around Sirius just now.

"Sure," grumbled Sirius, twisting his mouth into a mockery of a smile. "Don't mind me; I've just been cleaning this house from cellar to attic, battling doxies and that thing-" he flicked his wand at the currently silent portrait of his mother- "keeping home safe and clean for the valiant Order members, don't you know? Sitting around, passing messages and occasionally being allowed to go out for a walk... as a dog. At this point, I may have superseded even you at housekeeping. So, doing all right, Moony?"

Remus looked at him reproachfully, and Sirius felt guilt twist the knife in his gut a little more. His best friend- one of the only two people he had in his world now- was sitting across from him, scarred and gaunt from his constant battle against himself and the enemies that were hell-bent on killing them all, and Sirius sat in this house all day and then yelled at him when he returned.

But right then, he really, really hated Remus.

"I wouldn't mind trading places with you for a day or two if I could," said the werewolf in a low voice, scuffing his shoe on the wooden floorboards. "Sorry, Pads, but war isn't fun for any of us."

There was a time when he would have given voice to the cutting remarks on the tip of his tongue, but Sirius choked them back and instead said, "Here, let me get that cut on your cheek for you. Episkey." The skin on his cheek sealed itself over, and Sirius leaned over and wiped a drop of blood off Remus's face. Penitence.

Before Moony could utter thanks, the fire flared up, turning a sickly green color, and Snape's greasy face appeared. Sirius grimaced in disgust.

"Black, Lupin," said Snape, looking about as pleased to see the pair as they were to see him. Nonetheless, both leaned forward, eager for news. "I was just checking in," continued the Potions professor uneasily, craning his neck to look around. "Is everything well?"

"Yes," replied Remus, looking puzzled. "And on your end?"

"Potter's got detention again," Snape answered, lip curling slightly, "so yes, I suppose you could say all is as normal." He cast Sirius a curious look, and then vanished from the fire.

"Harry takes after his father, doesn't he?" Sirius smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Good boy. I hope he's giving that witch Umbridge hell- and Snivellus, too." He followed up with another word that rhymed with witch, and surprisingly enough, Remus laughed.

"Remember when we used to give witches hell?" Both got dreamy looks in their eyes, and fell into animated reminiscence of summer days long gone and pranks well remembered.

A couple of hours had passed, and one by one, other Order members had begun to stream in- Moody, Tonks, Kingsley. Kreacher had sullenly brought them all food, and now all five were seated around the long Black dining table, speaking in subdued voices.

Suddenly, a mist-white doe burst through the wall into the middle of the table. Tonks dropped her spoon into the soup, splashing Remus and Kingsley with the scalding liquid.

"Harry had a vision that Black was being tortured in the Department of Mysteries," spoke the doe in Snape's voice. "He and his friends have not returned from their detention in the Forbidden Forest. I believe he may have attempted a rescue mission to the Ministry, and thus will probably require a rescue mission of his own. Black- don't leave the house. Dumbledore needs to know what has happened."

Immediately, bowls were being shoved away and benches pushed back. "Apparate to the Atrium, regroup there and get down to the Department of Mysteries," growled Moody as they hurried towards the front door. Sirius stared after them, anger distorting his usually handsome features. Useless, again. Remus was the last to go, casting an apologetic glance over his shoulder as he pulled the door open.

"We'll keep him safe," he promised.

Bugger that.

As soon as the door clicked closed, Sirius was on his feet, pulling his cloak on. "Kreacher!" he shouted. The house-elf appeared with a crack, bowing and scraping whilst muttering rebelliously under his breath.

"How can Kreacher help Master? Traitor, scum, disgrace to his mother-"

"Shut up," Sirius cut him off. "When Dumbledore gets here, tell him we've all gone to the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort laid a trap, and Harry and his friends have fallen into it. Got it?" Kreacher nodded sullenly, and the last of the Blacks gripped his wand and strode out the front door, turning on his heel.

With a crack, he Apparated into the Atrium, deserted at this hour. The others were halfway into the lift, and Sirius sprinted to catch up with them, sliding in just as the doors closed.

"What are you doing here, Black?" demanded Moody as they descended. "You were told to stay at headquarters. You're a wanted man; you can't just show up at the Ministry." His magical eye whizzed anxiously in its socket, scanning the confined space.

"As if," snarled Sirius. "This is as much my fight as yours. More, even. I left Kreacher with the message for Dumbledore." No one else bothered arguing. Remus shot him an irritatingly worried glance, somehow mixed in with gratitude.

Ding. The lift doors slid open, and the quintet stepped out into a gloomy corridor. Sirius shivered, remembering the last time he had been in the crypts of the Ministry, and quickly followed the rest down the hall as the sounds of battle reached their ears. A giddy tingle, a mixture of rage and euphoria, began to creep from his wand hand up to his brain, down into the rest of his body. They stepped through a door and found themselves within a large cylinder, surrounded by identical doors. Immediately, the room began to whirr, spinning dizzyingly until the door that they had come from was lost. Friendly place, this.

Shouts and crashes were loud in their ears now, coming from two doors, side by side. "Split up," ordered Moody. "Black, Lupin, with me. We'll take the left door. Kingsley, you and Nymphadora take the right. On three." He and Kingsley placed their hands on the door knobs. "One, two... three."

All five burst into another circular room, lined with steps and Death Eaters. Harry stood alone in the center, below an archway set upon a dais, looking awfully small. The Longbottom boy was lying on the floor, twitching and sobbing.

"Stupefy!" screamed Tonks as Lucius Malfoy turned. The Order needed no other cue. Sirius leapt into the fray, brandishing his wand at a masked Death Eater.

His enemy was shooting spells at him so quickly that he had no time to say the words- just think it, and slash his wand, and hope for the best. Deadly light zipped back and forth, and sweat ran down their faces.

A hesitation. Sirius leapt upon it, Stunning the Death Eater into oblivion, and whirled around, searching for another opponent. There- Harry and Neville were prone on the ground, Dolohov standing over them with his wand raised. Sirius charged, slamming into the swine and knocking him off his feet. Immediately, the Death Eater leapt up and began to duel him even more ferociously than his other adversary had.

From behind: "Petrificus Totalus!" Dolohov went rigid and fell backwards onto the marble, face frozen in shock. That was going to leave a nasty bruise. If they were lucky, he might even be concussed. Behind him was Harry, glasses askew and wand out, a fiercely proud look on his face.

Sirius grinned. "Nice one," he said, and ducked, pulling his godson down as beams of red light shot towards them. "Now I want you to get out of-" down again; those Death Eaters really never let up, did they?

No, they didn't. Poor Tonks- she was tumbling down the stairs now, either dead or about to be. Moony would be unhappy. Where was Moony, anyway? Wait, no time to think about that. The Longbottom boy was still on the ground, legs twitching madly, and somehow the glass ball in Harry's hands was still intact. Priority one: "Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!"

With that, he jumped up and ran towards Bellatrix, the raging c-u-you-know-what. Insane joy lit up her face as he charged. "Cousin!" she shrieked in that awful voice, bringing him back to Christmas holidays spent in silver parlors with his sadistic relatives. "How nice to see you!" She cackled as they fought, and Sirius felt glee and wrath mix together in his blood, lending him wings. His wand was impossibly light in his hand, an extension of his arm that jabbed and slashed with superior strength and speed than anything he had ever known before. He felt that if he stopped even for a moment, his heart might float up out of his throat.

Bellatrix was the epitome of everything he loathed. She was mad, hateful, impossibly cruel, blindly worshipful, and generally slime. She made the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black proud; he would make the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black dead.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he taunted, ducking under a curse and shooting another off with a flick of his wand. He laughed, and her next blast hit him in the heart.

He froze, numbness spreading outwards from his chest, fingers weakening. Everyone else seemed to have slowed down: Moody was still dueling with someone- Yaxley?- and the brilliant colors between them were fuzzy and sluggish. Kingsley was panting, standing over a defeated Death Eater. Remus wore the same focused look that he had when he was taking a test and didn't know Sirius was looking at him- biting his lip, brows furrowed. Bellatrix was in convulsions of laughter at her triumph, no surprise there. And Harry- Harry was staring at him, his own shock and disbelief mirrored.

Sirius fell, his wand clattering to the floor from nerveless fingers.