Chapter 9: Babysitter
"Have a good evening, Jan."
"You too, Matthew," the woman nodded to her coworker behind the counter as she headed out of the bank's open door, one hand fumbling inside her purse for her car keys. It had been yet another repetitive and uneventful day at work during her shift at Regent's Bank, and now Janice Wittenmoore found herself eager to get home; at least there was never a dull moment with her two children running around creating havoc.
She stepped out into the parking lot and into the darkening night. The luminescent glow of the streetlight reflected orange off of the silver vehicle ahead as she paused next to its driver's side door. The tips of her fingers brushed against cool metal and Janice closed them around the elusive set of keys. Reaching her arm out to unlock the car, she stopped briefly, though she did not know why at first. That was when she heard it.
It pierced the silence of the night with a shrill, unwavering note almost like the whistle of a kettle, only ten times louder and more threatening. For a second, Janice thought it was a police siren, but she quickly dismissed the idea—this sound was constant, never once deviating.
Heart hammering inside her chest, she pushed the key in, turned it, and flung the door open. She was out of the parking lot before she even realized she had started the ignition. The young woman ran the red light on the adjacent street, but it did not matter—there was no one else on the roads, no sign of life anywhere she looked. Relax, Janice reminded herself, forcing her trembling hands to loosen their grip on the steering wheel. Her attempt at composure ultimately failed however when the volume of the horrible whistling grew enough to be audible inside her car, despite the rolled up windows and the whine of the engine as she barreled down street after deserted street.
She turned a corner on her left and gasped, slamming her foot on the brakes. Her wide eyes absorbed the entire scene all at once, thought it took her mind several seconds longer than usual to comprehend exactly what she was witnessing.
The petrol station further down the street was engulfed in ferocious orange flames, and thick black smoke streamed up from their tongues, billowing into the sky and causing the night to become pit-black. The shriek was deafening now. The crowd that had gathered was filled with frightened faces, and many hands were clasped over pairs of ears. Obscured by the impenetrable veil of smoke, the blue and red flash of police cars and fire engines could be faintly seen, their sirens blocked out by the dreadful whistle.
Janice scrambled out of her car, the key still hanging in the ignition, long since forgotten. Bursts of red and green light flared across the scene, though Janice could not begin to guess what they were. She sprinted forward, lips parted and concern etched into her face. Everything was wrong—the people were too close; she wanted to call out, to warn them, to tell them to get back.
Suddenly, the crowd broke. Figures scattered wildly in various directions, and the area became more chaotic. Screams sprang into the air, as did another blast of strange green light, only this one was enormous. It rose higher and higher into the darkness, so bright that the smoke could do nothing to hinder it, and there it hovered, far above the roaring fire and black ash. Janice stared, aghast, in disbelief as the light changed, seemingly shaping itself, becoming more solid. It sat there, emblazoned in the night, an omen of evil: a piercing green skull with a serpent twisting out from its gaping mouth.
Then, the ground heaved. Tremors shook the area, and many people fell in their wake. There were out shouts now that mixed with the ones of fear, cries of amusement followed by angry answers. Janice opened her eyes and found herself collapsed in the dirt; the smoke was everywhere now, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Doing her best to block the earsplitting whistle from her pounding head, she tucked her knees under and began to crawl away from the danger, hoping that her car was waiting in the direction she was heading.
There was the commotion of voices nearby and Janice's vision was momentarily blinded by more spouts of red and green light, intense and extremely close at hand. A blast of green followed by a reply of red, and then a cry of pain.
"I've got one!" someone called triumphantly.
"It's about time! I thought your aim was getting rusty." The answer was playfully teasing, though strung with graveness. "Where are you? I can't see a thing."
"Hold on a minute, I'll get—"
Janice let out a startled yell as she felt the first speaker trip over her. Before she could react, she found herself blinking as a sharp white light was thrust into her soot-covered face. There was a tense pause of silence and then the person lowered the point of light, reaching out to grasp her under the arm.
"Sirius, are you all right?" the second voice shouted, concerned and uncertain.
Janice peered up into the ashy countenance of the young man in front of her as he helped her to her feet. His black hair ran down to his shoulders and he was covered from head to toe in black powder from the raging fire. The man was a complete stranger to her, and yet his warm and reassuring gaze from deep brown eyes erased all trace of fear.
"I'm fine, James!" he answered. "I've found another bystander—a Muggle—"
Her strength faltered slightly and Janice felt herself tip sideways, but the man quickly caught her and let her support herself against his shoulder. It was then that she noticed what he was holding in one hand; it appeared to be a long, straight stick illuminated at the end with the same white beam.
"Come on," he placed his other hand on her back, leading her forward. "We've got to get you out of here." Her rescuer's voice was encouraging but filled with urgency, and Janice observed that his eyes glanced warily from side to side and he never showed a sign of dropping his strange glowing stick.
Hundreds of questions wheeled around in her mind, but Janice was too exhausted to ask them—besides, she didn't think she had enough energy to talk over the earsplitting shriek of the eternal whistle. She groaned and screwed her burning eyes shut, wishing beyond hope that it was stop. Then she gasped in horror, for it was at that second that she realized what the noise must mean.
Another dark figure grew out of the smoke encasing them and approached the man named Sirius.
"Get her out, now!" the second man from earlier shouted over the sound. "I have to double-back—I'll meet up with you later—"
"James, we're outnumbered!" Sirius interjected. "You can't go back alone! Who knows how many of them are still out there. Wait a minute and I'll head back with you."
"Padfoot," James replied, placing a hand firmly on his companion's shoulder; the seriousness of his tone was impressive. "There isn't time. The pressure is mounting; it could blow any sec—"
Then, the world itself burst. The earth rippled and split; fire, smoke, and debris shot through the air in every direction; waves of searing heat whipped the area, and screams were abruptly stifled. Something hard struck the back of Janice's head and all turned to darkness.
The first thing that Sirius Black was aware of was the ominous silence. The whistle had gone, the shards of glass and chunks of cement had settled, and all sounds of life had disappeared. He opened his eyes and gave a sickening series of coughs, his lungs protesting against the gulps of ash and smoke they had inhaled. He stumbled to his feet and stood still, waiting for the dizziness leave his head. How long he had been lying there unconscious he did not know.
Sirius glanced out onto a foreign landscape; the neighborhood was scarcely recognizable in its current state. Dust and shreds of metal coated everything in sight, flames raged violently, buildings were reduced to rubble, and whole sections of the road had been ripped up and flung through the air.
He then remembered the woman. His dark eyes scanned the environment for any sign of the Muggle or his friend, James, but he knew it was in vain. It was utterly impossible to make out much of anything underneath all of the destruction, and Sirius was sure that the force of the explosion had knocked him far from his previous location.
A new noise rose out of the night, sharp and painfully loud after the dead stillness. Sirius felt the anger and frustration building inside of his chest and his clenched fists shook as he wheeled around to pinpoint the source of the awful laughter. No less than thirty feet away, a small cluster of black-cloaked figures was rapidly approaching, the thick layer of soot smeared on their robes and masks hinting at the horrible role they had played that evening. Spotting the upright form of Sirius, one of them gave an exuberant cry.
"There's another one!"
A chorus of jeers followed, each ringing with sick amusement and malintent. Sirius glared at the advancing outlines of the Death Eaters, forcing his body to remain calm for the moment, not to spring into an attack too early. He was clearly outnumber five-to-one, and he kept his wand hidden by his side—obviously they assumed he was just another poor defenseless Muggle…. He didn't want to burst their bubble just yet.
"Aww, is the wittle Muggle lost?"
Sirius gritted his teeth shut as he recognized the deranged voice of his cousin; thankfully, the dirt and ash plastered to his skin, hair, and clothes were effective at disguising his true appearance, and she seemed to not have realized his identity for the time being.
"Maybe that was the wife we found dead over there."
Again, Sirius struggled to keep his fury under control. He rolled his eyes and frowned in disgust at the reply of the second Death Eater. Great, he thought, another happy family reunion. The tone of his younger brother's comment equally surprised and disturbed him for the usual hesitancy and reluctance Regulus expressed was replaced by a cold indifference.
Bellatrix reverted her attention to the lone Order member standing in front of her, removing her silver mask to reveal a malicious smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Well then, let us not keep them separated any longer."
Her right hand half raised to execute the final killing curse, his cousin stopped and blinked, the laughter in her eyes vanishing in an instant.
"You," she hissed suddenly, as an old animosity returned and twisted her features.
In a flash, Sirius had whipped out his wand, but too late.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Death erupted in a jet of green light from the end of Bellatrix's wand, but before it could reach its intended target something solid collided with Sirius and pushed him out of the spell's path. He landed hard onto the ground and, likewise, the thing fell even harder ontop of him, successfully knocking the air from his strained lungs.
"Dammit, Padfoot! Can't you manage to stay out of trouble for one minute?"
Half surprised, half relieved, Sirius looked up into the dirty face and round glasses of James Potter. As always, his friend's messy black hair was just as unruly as ever.
"Right, Prongs," Sirius answered sourly as he and James hastily rolled to their feet, wands ready, "Suppose next time I'll get a better babysitter."