Chapter Seven:

Avada Kedavra 2:

Harry looked up abruptly as the small groan of a door creaking open reached his ears. Dumbledore entered the office cautiously, momentarily holding the door open for McGonagall, who followed him into the room. The Transfiguration teacher had that usual stern look upon her and her eyes burned with something akin to fury.

Dumbledore had probably told her about Sirius' history and the circumstances of his being here, Harry assumed indifferently, but as his Head of House turned to face them, meeting Harry's eyes, her stern face melted into an expression of sorrow and pity. The hairs in Harry's neck bristled in a terrible foreboding and he quickly broke her glance and looked over to Dumbledore, who looked as sorrowful and regretting as he approached Harry.

Harry had the impression as if the ground would be pulled away from under him and he felt dizzy. Only one look into Dumbledore's expressive eyes and he knew what the headmaster was about to tell him, but he didn't want to hear it. As soon as the words were said aloud, the last fragments of his hope would be shattered into pieces.

"Harry…" Dumbledore began as he reached the couch, but his voice then broke and a charged silence filled the room. With an almost desperate look on his face the Headmaster crouched down in front of Harry, so that their eyes were level.

"I'm so terrible sorry to tell you this…" again his voice broke and instead of more words, Dumbledore only shook his head regretfully.

Harry only registered that half-heartedly. His surroundings started to blur. He didn't want to cry, but the tears that were stinging his eyelids were impossible to hold back anymore. Sirius Black was dead. The only adult who could have been close to a parent to him was dead. A thick lump formed in his throat and made it impossible to speak. The frog in his throat grew, pressing against his windpipe, threatening to suffocate him.

Only after the first tears left his eyes and flew down his face did the lump loosen with a desperate sob. As if this first sound of distress had broken a dam, something in Harry shattered and more sobs followed the first. Harry tried to control them; he was no baby anymore and didn't want to break down here in front of all those people. However, when Dumbledore took his shoulders and pulled him close, Harry lost the fight and cried helplessly against the Headmaster's shoulder. The old wizard held onto him for dear life, stroking soothing small circles on his back. "I'm so sorry, Harry. Please believe me. So terribly sorry."

Harry heard the sad words and was startled at the way the normally strong voice quivered in pain, but that didn't do anything to help stop the treacherous flow of tears, and he only sobbed harder.

He had cried enough to last for hours as the tears finally started to dry out, even though his body still shook with occasional sobs.

"It's all right, my boy. It's all right. Everything will be okay. You'll get through this." Dumbledore still sounded very sad and Harry finally found the strength to straighten up a bit. He wasn't surprised to find Dumbledore's face wet with tears too.

He also realized that Hermione and Ron's hands were on his shoulder, and that they were both crying as well.

"Better, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Harry, not trusting his voice, nodded weakly.

"Why?" he finally croaked, ignoring the pain in his chest. One word without another breakdown wasn't so bad, he figured.

The headmaster sighed sadly. "We'll figure it out my boy."

"Where is he?" Harry asked, his eyes downcast.

"Who?"

"Si…Sirius." This time, Harry was not successful in stifling another sob.

"In the hospital wing."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore with a determination that he wouldn't have thought he'd be able to muster in this situation.

"I want to see him!"

"Harry," McGonagall cautioned doubtfully, but Harry just glared back. "I. Want. To. See. Him."

"It's quite all right, Minerva. It's his right to do so," Dumbledore answered tiredly.

With as much determination he was able to gather, Harry pushed off the couch. His two friends and the Headmaster stood as well and he felt a supporting hand between his shoulder blades as the old wizard steered him out of the office.

Harry was grateful that the gangways they crossed on the way to the hospital wing were deserted of other students. He wouldn't have been able to handle the curious looks and suspicious whispers they were no doubt uttering right this minute.

When they entered the hospital wing, Harry registered with dismay how bright and friendly the atmosphere here was. To him, it felt like a mockery. It shouldn't be bright here, but dark and depressing – the same as it was looking like inside his soul. Once again tears threatened to surface but he blinked them away.

"Headmaster? What are the children doing here? Is anyone hurt?" the voice of the older med witch, who was hurrying towards them, pulled him out of his thoughts.

"We want to see Sirius Black," the headmaster responded.

"Black?" Pomfrey let her gaze swift over the students with irritation. "Dear, Albus. Those children really shouldn't be here."

"Poppy, please. It's all right. Let them see him," Dumbledore said.

After another doubtful look towards the teenagers she finally nodded and led the group to an adjoining white door to the right side of the main room. They followed silently, Dumbledore's hand never leaving its place on Harry's back.

The door let them into a small, cool and almost empty room in the middle of which stood a solitary narrow bed. On this bed, covered up to the chest with a white sheet, lay the motionless body of Sirius Black .

Almost as if they had a life of their own, Harry's feet moved him to his godfather's side and he just stared dully at the lifeless body. For as long as he had known his godfather, Sirius could never have been called handsome. The long years in Azkaban had drained the man so much that only a shadow of his former good looks remained. Lying there now, with no mischievous sparkle in his eyes or a smile to soften his features, he looked even scrawnier than ever before.

Hesitantly, Harry lifted one hand, lightly touching one of the gaunt, fallen cheeks. He jerked back instantly as he felt the unnatural coldness of the skin. The coldness of death had fallen over Sirius. His chest was still, as were the man's features. Black's face seemed eerily still. It was just so -- lifeless. This was no longer his godfather. Just a cold and empty thing that would soon be gone, rotting away in a cold grave.

Harry looked dully at the hand with which he had touched the body; the hand itself now starting to shake, but it wasn't simply his hand. His whole body was trembling and he felt the urge to run away from this place of horror and pain, but something held him captive and prevented his legs from moving. A sick fascination held his eyes on the corpse in front of him. Corpse – Not Sirius... Never again Sirius…

With incredible force of will he pulled his eyes away from the dead body and turned back to the others. Hermione was crying hard and Ron was holding her close in comfort, even though his face was equally wet with tears - just like Dumbledore and Hagrid's. McGonagall and Pomfrey didn't cry openly, but their looks were full of compassion.

Those looks of sympathy though, broke something in Harry. Sirius Black was gone. Severus Snape had killed him in cold blood. Snape. The numb pain inside of Harry begun to morph into hot hatred. It mutated and grew like a fire in dry grass until it threatened to consume him whole. He clenched his fists and the trembling in his body grew as he tried to get hold on this new feeling. "Where is Snape?"

"Harry," McGonagall begun, "You shouldn't…"

"WHERE THE HELL IS SNAPE. I'M GOING TO KILL THAT SON OF A BITCH WITH MY OWN HANDS, I SWEAR IT!" he interrupted his Head of House with such vehemence and volume that Hermione jerked back, looking at him in disbelief. The others present stared at him as if he'd just announced his plans to become the next dark lord himself. All except Dumbledore, whose eyes only became sadder.

"Harry, please leave Professor Snape to us. I've already confiscated his wand and he's confined in his quarters for now. I can promise you that he will be held responsible for this."

"Bullshit!" Harry swore loudly, still upset and angry. "You've heard Snape. Sirius was a wanted criminal and nobody will blame that bastard for his murder. The Ministry will pat his shoulder, congratulate him and award him with a medal. You too are always taking his side, Headmaster, defending him. You're not really going to punish him. You always showed clearly that greasy ex–death eater was more important to you than Sirius ever could have been."

The sadness in Dumbledore's eyes changed into something like hurt and Harry felt a short flash of shame because his words were the reason for this hurt, but it did nothing to dimmer his fury.

"Harry, that's not true, and you know it. Professor Snape has done a terrible thing and will have to face the consequences for it. You have my word."

Harry gave a sharp, humourless laugh. "And what are you planning to do, Headmaster? Fire him and send him away from the school? He would run straight to Voldemort, revealing all your secrets. Or do you plan on sending him to Azkaban for killing a wanted murderer? He'd never be convicted."

"You are terribly wrong, my boy," the old wizard whispered, every one of his many years seeming to weigh heavily on his shoulders. "Severus has used one of the Unforgivable curses and the Ministry will not overlook this fact."

Harry only gave a sceptic snort.

"Yeah, right… I want justice. No matter how, and I will get it too. One way or another," he swore bitterly before edging his way passed the others, stalking out the room and the hospital wing as fast as possible.

T.B.C.