Chapter 18
"Come on, come on
Put your hands into the fire."
Thirteen Senses – Into the Fire

"Come to me, wizard."

Harry flinched as the words tried to bend his mind. Tiny tendrils tickled at his untouched corners of thought trying to bypass his strong will and sense of self. But something within him grew heavy, almost like a concern or worry, and then the power of the staff stopped cold, as if it had hit some immovable force.

A sharp intake of breath caused him to look over at Draco, now leaning against the stone wall to his side, his skin having gone pale and ghostly in the flickering light of their wands.

That heaviness within grew.

"Draco?" Harry asked, barely above a whisper.

"Don't bother me, Potter. I'm kind of busy right now." Draco looked over at Harry and offered a weak smile, a thin trickle of sweat sliding down his brow.

Crap! Harry closed his eyes and tried to build up those barriers within him, remembering those long ago lessons with Snape that never made any sense. He brought up the image of a younger version of himself and Draco as he knew him now, having a quiet, civilized conversation within him building a mental wall together. He focused on the heavy feeling and added his power to it, though it strangled him to do so.

Opening his eyes, he looked over at Draco, who wiped at his brow with the back of his arm, leaving damp splotches on his sleeve. He glanced at Harry and smiled. "Thanks," he said as he took in deep breath after deep breath. "See," he said smiling brightly, "I told you we could do this together. Just keep feeding the wall that overabundance of energy you have and I'll keep up its integrity."

Harry nodded, completely awed at the length Draco was going to help him. "But… Draco. We can't keep this up. I mean, look at you. And I have to say I don't feel all that fabulous myself."

"We'll figure something out. Let's go see about that staff."

They trod carefully across the piled remains to the pedestal and looked down upon the staff. It seemed innocent enough, until Harry really focused on it and felt pulses of energy and magic reaching out to him, insinuating and invading his own core of magic. But as he watched he could see that they never gained any hold on him, never discovered a way through the barrier that Draco had built.

Now he realised he faced a new dilemma. He needed the staff to cure Hermione and break the spell on the Ministry. Not to mention the vast number of potential other victims who could come under sway of this cursed object. How could he transport it without it wearing Draco and him down or without it trying to consume some other wizard?

Well, he guessed he'd just have to build another wall around it.

"You sure this is going to hold?" Draco asked as he stared at the staff all wrapped up in what looked like mummy's gauze. It'd been Harry's idea, to somehow nullify the power emanating from the staff, and they'd come up with a binding spell modified with an inhibiting charm. Draco mentioned an artefact he had stored in his collection, ancient mummy wraps, and Harry couldn't seem to get that image out of his head, so his magic had formed into the guise of tattered gauze. The world loved to mock Draco's sense of propriety.

"Yep… Well, I'm pretty sure, anyway," Harry said while flipping the staff from one hand to the other, causing Draco to flinch each time it slapped into his grip. Ever since he'd retreated from Harry's psyche, his friend had been in an oddly childish mood. It seemed Draco had inadvertently triggered something during his wall building session with Harry's young self. Not to mention Harry's pure relief at not having to constantly fight the staff's possession.

"Would you stop that?" Draco pleaded. He cringed at the thought of the staff somehow dropping and losing its shackles, resulting in it blowing them both up, or even taking over their minds and magic, leaving them mindless zombies, or worse—squibs.

"What's wrong, Draco? Scared of a little piece of wood?" He shook the artefact at Draco, mimicking an old witch doctor's cure or curse. He even giggled.

"That little piece of wood almost subsumed your identity, Potter," he said, admonishing the juvenile behavior. "You might want to treat it with a little respect, if not caution."

Harry dropped his arm to his side, still gripping the length of wood. He hung his head and peered at Draco through his thick fringe. "I'm sorry, Draco. I promise I won't taunt you with the evil artefact anymore."

"Oh, sod off, you immature git," Draco began, but was soon cut off by an anguished scream coming from beyond the grand, ornate door.

"NO!" It echoed strangely, hanging in the air like a fog, stretching out into time.

Remus leaned forward over his knees, his head tucked low, protecting his delicate innards as he waited for the devil that walked through the arch to bite him deep and rip out his soul.

He never expected the chilled caress that brushed the back of his head, the tingly touches combing through his tousled hair. A shiver quaked his body that he could not suppress. What was this? What was happening?

With desperate fear he curled in even more, clutching at his knees, bringing them tight against his chest. He fell to his side with a soft 'thud'.

Then an explosion of light, like the flash of a Polaroid, filled the space behind his eyes. He knew it was in his mind because his lids were squeezed tightly shut, warding against the figure from the bone-white arch, hoping to banish it from existence with the sheer force of his disbelief.

"You're not you. You're not you," he continued to mutter, like a mantra defending against the Dark.

In the flash was an image, a negative reversal of a white dog in a black backdrop, tongue lolling; a goofy look about the canine.

Remus whimpered at the image.

Flash. The picture changed and now there was the white dog and a faded wolf together in a silent, still pose, the wolf ready to pounce.

Tears began leaking through the titan clenching of his eyes.

Flash. Tall man, black skin and white hair, cocky grin and dark eyes. Eyes that should be bright, brilliant almost, twisted in the odd slideshow parody.

"No…" he whimpered, whinging to the universe, hoping some divine consciousness would take pity on him and end this torment. This soul-wrenching torment.

Flash. The man again, his face closer this time, his eyes more intense, a look so full, so overtaken by emotion it caused Remus to choke on another sob.

Cringing, cowering, Remus flinched as he felt those fingers continuing to pet, to card through his hair, sending sparks of magic coursing through his body. Magic and something else. Something cold and dead and empty andhungry.

Something inside of Remus snapped. Suddenly, he stood, pushing away at the thing, gaining his feet to face this demon with the face of an angel. "NO!" he screamed.

Draco and Harry sprinted down the corridor towards the direction of the cry. "That had to be Remus," Harry sputtered with barely enough breath to speak. Draco agreed, but he felt no need to waste air on stating the obvious. Harry was already ahead of Draco, much to his annoyance, and Draco vowed he would start a new exercise regimen as soon as this entire fiasco concluded. The two darted around a corridor and Draco saw an open door before them. Something like ice chilled the blood in his veins at the sight of the innocuously open door.

Harry pulled ahead, wand at the ready, and with unprepared momentum truly worthy of any Gryffindor, he raced through the doorway.

Draco watched as Harry bolted into the room and saw something that seemed to suck out every gram of energy from the man. At once, Draco skidded to a halt just outside the door. There was no way he would charge in there like the cavalry. Draco was not the cavalry type; he was the crafty backup type.

With his shoulder to the wall, he glanced into the room, the angle only allowing him to see Harry as his friend fell to his knees, eyes wide with shock and… what was that? Fear? Wonder? Draco wasn't quite sure, maybe it was all of those combined. Or maybe it was something more basic and primal.

With a smooth wand motion, Draco cast a reflection charm on the edge of the doorframe. He had to see what had taken over Harry and caused Remus to scream like that. In that small, shiny surface he saw a ghost… no, not a ghost. A shade perhaps? He wasn't certain exactly what it was, but it looked exactly like his cousin. Exactly like Sirius Black.

And he was walking towards Harry.

"AAGGHHHH!" Draco screamed as he jumped into the room, wand aimed sharply at the phantom Black. Not the cavalry, he mentally yelled at himself. "Back off. I don't know who or what you are, but by fuck's sake if you take one more step I will disintegrate you with a flick of my wand." Draco's heart pounded in his chest causing it to tighten and convulse against his ribcage, demanding to know what the hell he thought he was doing. He realised he had no answer to that.

"Draco?" came the soft call from behind him. Yes, he realised, he'd jumped between Harry and this man who looked like Black liked a damned hero. Like a Gryffindor. Repentance was certainly due.

He darted his eyes back to look at Harry, who had this feeble, helpless thing about him that was just not on. Remus had fallen to his side and wept into his hands and this image of Black-- he couldn't think of a better word for it because he wasn't quite solid, almost distorted like he was made from bad TV reception--just stood and watched them all with an oddly sad smile.

"Who are you?" Draco demanded of the figure.

The figure dipped his head to the right, saying nothing, silent. Yet Remus flinched and screamed, "Stop it! Stop tormenting me!" His words trailed off into a hollow sob. Admittedly, Draco was at a loss.

Time to change tactics. "Remus? What's going on?" Remus only shrieked out at his question, like he was drowning in the Cruciatus, twitching as he lay on his side and then he fell suddenly limp. Draco cursed; guess that tactic failed.

"Sirius? Is it you?" Draco twisted around to stare at Harry, whose faint words were seeped in hope. "Sirius…" Harry stood, first pushing to one foot and then the other, when he tripped on the staff left forgotten on the dusty floor. It rolled away from him, the gauze slowly unravelling.

"Shite!" The word erupted from Harry's lips and he stared down in horror at the staff. Unexpectedly, Harry gripped at the sides of his head; his eyes crammed shut in pain and fear. "Draco. Draco! Help me!" Draco felt that tug from Harry, that draining effect as he remembered the brick wall, gave his strength to its integrity and to young Harry within. He felt a grip on that part of him left behind, his golden dragon, tight and desperate.

Draco reached for the staff, ready to wrap the cursed thing up again, when he felt the edges of that twisted magic touch him.

Mine… so tasty… so powerful. You are mine.

Crackling tendrils of invasive magic grasped onto Draco and tried to dig their way into him, into his own magical core, to eat at him, consume him. Fighting for his life, Draco slammed his Occlumency walls up, trying to ward off the power of the staff.

How the hell had it got so strong? What the fuck am I going to do?

Little by little Draco felt the influence of the staff overwhelm his defenses, tugging his wall down brick by brick. His fortifications crumbled like so much mud and straw.

A small portion of his attention not focused on blocking the staff's invasive might, watched as Harry writhed on the ground and Remus lay like a rotting corpse. The shite had hit the fan and Draco railed at how fucked up this entire night had become. They had been bested—bested by some crazy fun house operator with a fetish for dangerous toys. It seemed they would never be through with fighting against some variety of insanity.

The staticy form of Black reached down and ran his hand over Remus. Remus twitched but settled again once the hand was removed. Then the figure went to touch Harry.

"Keep your hands off him!" Draco screamed. Everything was falling apart. Everything was over. "Leave him alone!" Brick by brick.

The figure stopped and looked up. His vacant, opaque eyes settled on Draco. Draco couldn't read that expression because there wasn't one. There was nothing on that face. You couldn't even call it blank… it truly was… nothing. Blankness offered at least a sense of something hidden behind, tucked away, but here… Draco shuddered and realised there was nothing he could do. They had lost.

Wizard. You are mine.

Brick.

And Draco's mind began to slowly go blank. It didn't matter. None of it really meant much of anything anyway. He just wanted some sleep, to rest. He'd been fighting for so long and didn't he deserve an end to all of the struggle?

Didn't he deserve peace?

Mine.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Pools of blackness danced before his eyes. Peaceful vast nothingness.

It was another land in another time and he was another person all together. How long had he been here? Where was here? He remembered a room with an arch, but it seemed long ago. He remembered curling in on himself and then it was all black.

He couldn't focus on his surroundings. It wasn't really dark, but it wasn't light, either. The landscape, if you could call it that, was vast… endless. But there was nothing distinct at all. He was standing on a field of clouds in a gray wash of existence. Everything cast in shadow. He was between the worlds.

He was unfound.

Remus sniffed the air, trying to catch some scent, some kind of characteristic to this realm, but he could sense nothing. The air was empty.

He stood for ages--time held no power here--and finally he could see something upon the horizon. A dim speck slowly growing in mass, gaining size and dimension as it closed in on him.

It was a dog. A large, black and shaggy dog loping his way, large, pink tongue dangling from a grinning muzzle. Remus threw his head back and howled and was shocked to notice he was Moony. He was the wolf. When had that happened? He looked up into the sky and searched for the moon, but there was nothing, only that same muted gray.

A large weight landed on his side and he heard a slight 'huff' in his mind. No, not heard… just sensed. Knew. He flipped around and tackled Padfoot in response, gripping his throat between his strong jaws. The body below him went slack and submitted to his dominance. Satisfied, Remus (no, Moony) stood and ran, ran for the edge of the endless clouds, ran for joy and freedom, yipping for Padfoot to follow. He sensed the dog behind him, racing and full of life and the two sped across the fields of shadow.

Power and strength and bottomless vitality pumped through him with each stride he took. He never grew tired. Eventually he stopped to play, to reconnect with the dog (man), his companion forever. Even death could not separate them. Not even death.

"Moony." Again, the word was implanted as knowledge.

"Padfoot?" Remus said, or growled… or thought. He wasn't quite sure in this land of purgatory.

He was tackled again and licked all over, a happy, loving caress that stirred Remus' blood, brought about feelings he, as Moony or as Remus, had never felt before. He growled in the back of his throat, a growl that turned to a moan that no wolf's throat could really produce.

This was Padfoot. This was Sirius. His pack mate. His best friend. Would he… could he be more?

But he was dead, gone, dust in the wind.

But he wasn't. He was right here. Flesh and bone.

And then he was man again, lying below Sirius, whose curious expression and cocked smile bubbled a delighted laugh from Remus. The sound echoed into forever.

Sirius leaned forward, slowly, inch by inch and Remus stopped his laugh, the echo fading into silence. An anticipatory weight filled the air and Remus waited, holding completely still as Sirius closed the distance between the two.

Sirius.

Remus reached up and ran one finger from the corner of his friend's eye to his chin. Yes, this was Sirius. Real. Solid.

Sirius smiled and drew closer, softly landing his lips on Remus'.

Something clicked. This was right. This was the way things were always meant to be and always would be and eternity would be found in every minute with Sirius by his side. With Sirius in his arms.

But eternity meant nothing in purgatory.

A sudden sense of anxiety struck him. He searched for where it stemmed from… From Sirius? No. He felt nothing but love and comfort from Sirius. It came from out there. Somewhere beyond these barren fields. Out there.

"We must return." Remus received a splash of images of Harry and Draco struggling, fighting, and a growing sense of dread built in his bones. He also sensed that Sirius wanted to, no, needed to protect them.

Sadly, Remus nodded, and slowly, with the motion of paint sliding down a vertical wall, the world dripped away.

Immediately a scent of placid obscurity reached his nose and he jumped to his feet in an instant. Where was the fear, the desperation he had smelled here before? He noticed Harry and Draco slowly walking from the room. Harry gripped a long stick and something about that stick stripped Remus of all that lofty courage his House was reputed for. It seemed to tingle and tickle, taunting him to come forward and grip it as well… to give in to it. To give up to it.

Moony rose high within Remus, offering his strength and anger and sheer will and he pulled away from the temptation.

To his right Sirius stepped forward, quickly catching up to the two men. Remus followed, watching the crackling image as it reached forward and gripped the staff.

"No!" Remus ordered, lurching forward to pull Sirius away, to keep him from the tremendous power of the artefact.

But he was too late. Sirius gripped the long staff of wood and pulled it from Harry's grip, pulling it into his insubstantial form, absorbing it, and slowly he sunk to his knees.

Remus howled… this wasn't a dream, or a vision in some other land, far, far away; he howled in anguish as his friend fell once again.