Heart of the forsaken – "Now, I'm on a bit of a schedule so perhaps you could be kind enough to work with me here." Hagrid paid no attention to his wishes and started to scream the place down in his gruff voice, a tone he had never heard him use before, yelling for Dumbledore, dear Minerva, he had always had a soft spot for her, even calling for Snape. Sirius had a feeling this name was called purely because the man knew how much Snape hated him, although the feeling was not as mutual now as Sirius had grown up since being arrested and now felt regret, even disgust for certain things he did in his youth. In his younger years, the line between pranks and bullying became blurred to the point he was almost not sure of the distinction between right and wrong.
"Do continue screaming Hagrid," he noted dryly when the half giant stopped momentarily for breath, "I've cast a silencing charm on the area, nobody will hear you. The only thing you are doing is wasting my time and angering me," he let the volume of his voice rise ever so slightly and the end of his statement and his eyes glinted dangerously. Hagrid could never anger him; the lovable giant was a softie inside and a bit of an idiot, could not keep a secret to save his life. Dumbledore always told him so much and the marauders were always the next to know, wheedling all the tidbits of juicy information out of him. As soon as he realised he had once more said something he should not have done he always muttered 'I shouldn't have said that... I should not have said that,' to himself again and again until the next secret was revealed about two days later.
"Yer can't," the giant bellowed, "yer got no wand! Yer can't do magic!"
Sirius let this one slide without an eye roll because one tended to spout nonsense when one was scared. "I just froze you in midstride, I guess you are about to tell me you are doing that all by yourself are you? Or perhaps you need another demonstration." His voice was cold and with no hesitation he flicked his wrist and Hagrid went flying against the wall of his hut, making it shake with the force, "now do you believe?" This man's belief of his guilt was absolute, Hagrid was to feel his wrath along with everybody else.
"But yer got no-"
"Wand, I know, but neither do you, but your umbrella is a fine substitute. Now let's try again, I'm only going to ask this once and if you won't tell me out of the goodness of your heart then I shall make you tell me using other means. Where is my motorbike?"
He could tell Hagrid was confused, "yer came here for your motorbike?"
"Of course I came here for my motorbike; I know you still have it. It is clear you are not interested in a friendly chat." He threw himself down on one of the huge chairs, "I can keep that spell up all day by the way so take your time, but stop trying to escape or you will end up breaking yet more of your stuff, and you already have precious few possessions."
"I thought yer came to up your numbers. You have already killed thirteen innocent muggles and your best friends, why not one more?"
"Just tell me what I want to know Hagrid!"
"I am not gonna tell yet nothin'!"
"That is what I'm hoping for yes," he noted dryly, knowing Hagrid would not understand his use of a double negative, he was not the most learned of men, and he continued to look around the familiar hut while Hagrid tried to work out what he said. "Ooh rock cakes," he said appreciatively and picked one up off the plate and bit into it. "God, they really are like rock, how do you manage to fail so miserably at such a simple recipe?" He spat out the offending mouthful in the bin and threw the rest of the cake after it, "you're even worse than me."
"Get out of my house Black!"
Annoyed, Sirius rotated his hand so Hagrid was hanging upside down. He continued to go through the rest of his small hut. He gestured at what looked like a bottle of wine; did no one have normal soft things like fruit juice in their cupboards anymore? It flew into his hands and he studied it, "Vodka," he noted, it only had a mouthful left, "did you drink all of this last night? No wonder you're almost dead on your feet, you should grab some sleep once I go." He looked around the room more and saw the newspaper and looked at it, on the front page was a picture of him in handcuffs screaming and laughing insanely at the people dragging him away to hell. "Aww Hagrid," he said sarcastically, "were you drinking because of me?"
"You're a murderer."
Sirius froze and walked over to him and grabbed his massive chin in one long fingered hand. "You know, I have always been a disappointment Hagrid. My parents wanted me to be in Slytherin and I turned out to be a Griffindor. I was a disappointment to your precious teachers who wanted me to be conventional and turn into an academic or eventually a teacher like most people who are good at transfiguration and instead I became an auror obsessed by motorbikes and broomsticks but I took a long time growing up and wanted to have fun instead. I lived by the book, kept my nose clean, stayed on the straight and narrow, not breaking a single law; I was a best friend, almost brother to James, whom I loved, and a very doting Godfather."
His voice grew low, almost to a growl, "I trusted my friends, and it landed me in Azkaban. I liked you when I was in school, I could always come to you when I needed to be helped out in a pinch. My friends were my family and I did everything with them, everything for them. Dumbledore and Minerva were my heroes too, Hagrid, I admired them and they helped and guided me better than the Black family ever did. You told me you would always be there for me and I could always come to you with my problems. But where were you when I needed you Hagrid? Where were you when Lily and James needed you? Where were any of you? When the going got really tough, beyond petty schoolboy troubles you ignored all the times I defended you, laughed with you, I even saved your life once, you left me to rot!"
Sirius was almost spitting in his face by this point and threw him down so the spell broke and he fell down to the ground and he tried to get the blood to flow round the rest of his body and not just his head. "I am tired to doing things for everyone else, I am tired of breaking out of convention, and I am tired of being a failure. Well for once I am going to become what everyone expected of me in the first place! I am a Black, and it seems that I am the only one who forgot that because when I was arrested what did everyone say? It was in his blood, it was destined to be, it was bound to happen, should have been in coming. I should have seen it coming!"
He placed one foot on Hagrid's heaving chest, "you want me to be a murderer so you can justify why you did what you did. Well why not become what everyone expected of me in the first place? Call me a murderer if you want to Hagrid, let the whole world be terrified of me because for once they actually have cause to, Voldemort himself should be cowering before me by the time I'm through!" He hopped off him before he lost control, "get up," he snapped quietly. Hagrid for once did what he was told and scrambled to his feet. "Go get my motorbike Hagrid." He did not move and for some reason that made him snap. "GOD DAMNIT HAGRID!" He yelled, making him jump, "GO AND GET MY BLASTED MOTORBIKE BEFORE I DO SOMETHING I REGRET!"
He had not shouted since before he was arrested and he really did not why because it felt great, it felt liberating, it got good results, he should have done that to begin with. Eventually he was led out back where his motorbike was, he had looked after it well, even polished it, truly treating it like his own which he appreciated in some ways, he had given it to him after all. He threw one leg over it and stroked the handlebars; it was just like he remembered, it didn't seem like a whole thirteen, almost fourteen months since he'd last driven it to Godrics Hollow and made that awful discovery and given his bike to Hagrid when what he should have done was grab Harry and run. Harry. "Hagrid, I have one last question, where did Dumbledore take Harry?"
To his surprise Hagrid just let out a bark of laughter, "yer crazy if yer think I'm gonna tell yer that! Yer got yer bike, now go, I'll die before I tell yer that." Sirius looked into his eyes, yes, Hagrid was a true Griffindor too, inside, he was telling the truth, well there was no point torturing him if he was never going to tell him what he wanted. To tell the truth he was not certain if he would be able to torture him, despite being abandoned by him, he was still a friend, he still threatened him. "That could certainly be arranged Hagrid," he said in a pleasant tone as if he was commenting of the weather, "but like I've said, I've got a schedule to keep."
He did not stay behind any longer but rose into the sky and took off across the ground and into the cover of the clouds. This was a lot more comfortable than a broomstick; he reckoned the shooting star would make a good Christmas present for Harry once he got him. He arrived back home an hour after sunset which was about five o clock, he decided he would leave the other things he had to take care of until another day. He strode through the door of his house throwing off his cloak as he did and it went and hung itself up on a hook behind the door. "Dinner Kreacher," he said as he walked through to the kitchen, impressed how much of an impression the elf had made on the house already, well he was not crazy anymore, he better be efficient.
Kreacher had cooked him ratatouille, an old favourite of his and Regulus. He was glad to have something that was not protein for once, he had had a lot of meat when staying with Arnold, that reminded him, he should start planning a way to pay him back. "I'm going to take an early night Kreacher," he said around bites. Well done on the excellent job on the house, I am going out again tomorrow; carry on with the house while I'm gone." He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, "and I want you to make a delivery. Don't be seen though." He left the parchment on the table along with the plate and briefly touched Kreacher's head on his way out, just catching the 'yes master, goodnight master' from behind him.
Hagrid knew he should have run to alert Dumbledore as soon as Black left but he could not get out of his head what the man had said and how true it was. Black had not been given a trial and he did deserve that and if their positions had been reversed he did have to admit that Sirius probably would have done all he could to get him reprieve. In fact, if Sirius had not done that he would have felt let down, well nobody came to Sirius' aid, not even Remus, and they had been good friends, it was just the evidence was so well stacked against him and they were all in shock after losing James and Lily, two great aurors and almost little Harry, but Voldemort had also been defeated and the war was over, at least for now.
He could not help but feel disappointment that after only a year and a bit of peace, a notorious villain had broken out of Azkaban and the wizarding world was in uproar about it. But the hurt in his eyes when Hagrid had said the word murderer would not leave his mind. He had not actually pled guilty, not under unbreakable oath, not under veritaserum, he had just laughed, and no one knew why and if the small cognitions turning in his mind were true he owed somebody the biggest apology. Unable to think about it anymore, lightheaded from being hung upside down and shaken from a run in with someone believed at least to be very dangerous he only just managed to crawl to bed, not able to walk across the grounds to Dumbledore, "great man, Dumbledore," he muttered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up it was to an appealing smell coming from his table. Heaving himself out of bed he made his way to it and found there on the table was a plate of freshly cooked rock cakes, still warm. He picked one up and bit into it before really thinking about it, it was soft and fluffy and the fruit had been soaked in brandy or something before being used, it tasted delicious, much better than he could ever hope to. Before he'd even noticed the note that came with them he'd eaten the whole plateful. Then he noticed the scrap of parchment and opened it up, 'Thanks for the bike Hagrid – SB' his hands went immediately to his throat in worry but although he was waiting for the poison to set in all day, no dizziness struck.
Rita Skeeter was about to collapse into bed when a voice she did not recognise behind her mentioned, "about bloody time woman, I've been waiting here for ages." She turned around in fear and shouted 'stupefy' on instinct, for some reason beyond her comprehension she had a lot of enemies. She was to be disappointed however as the spell simply dissolved against the invisible shield the stranger had up. Frightened she shouted it again and again until she was out of breath. The stranger did not move from his cross legged position on her bed and just sat there still grinning as she worked herself into a state. "Please do continue to shoot at me, it is obviously making a huge load of difference," he noted dryly. She got the message and stopped before giving him a look asking him to explain, he obliged.
"This spell is one of my own inventions," he boasted, "it is a modified version of Protego; it is not formed by my own magic but by what is shot at it. Shouting Stupefy is only going to strengthen it as will any other spell you try, only physical exertion such as stones or weapons or big weights is going to destroy it, but I think fifteen stupefys has strengthened it quite nicely now, thank you." He stood up, using his intimidating height to frighten the woman, "sit," he ordered in his quiet voice, and as expected the cowardly woman did as she was told. Although his words were clear he did not seem to be rising above a whisper, his voice was unrecognisable no matter how hard she tried to place it, this was a stranger and she could really do without another enemy.
The figure drew something out of his robes and she flinched thinking it was weapon of some sort before realizing that this was a stupid thought as if he wanted to hurt her surely he would have done so without putting up a shield, thinking about it he did not seem he had a wand at all. He threw it down at her feet; she recognised it immediately as her magazine. "You've written a lot about me, I can't believe I have a fan," he said dryly. He was sitting in the shadows; it was only when he said this that she realised who he was. Her throat closed up in fear, he toyed with his food, just because he had not hurt her yet did not mean he was not going to, and he smiled when he noticed, showing his white teeth, "yes Rita, it's me."
She started to wonder whether she'd ever had a fling with him because he was speaking to her like an old friend, in a slightly sarcastic way as if he was doing it to intimidate. That's what people did you know, the use of first names is to intimidate more than gain trust... or was that just something she wrote? "Most of it is rubbish but I don't think you have ever written something that was truthful so I'll gloss over that. Now down to business you'll be pleased to know I have job for you, it has been a month and a half since I escaped from jail. For your Christmas issue I want you to write a statement from me, get your quill and you will write exactly what I say, or I will hunt you down, I hope I make myself clear, now let's get started."
He stretched out on the bed once Rita was seated at her desk, arms under his head, legs slightly bent because the bed was small. "I have been out of jail for a while now and the ministry has seen neither hide nor hair of me, it is obvious that they are incompetent especially since I have proven their unbreakable jail is not so inpenetratable after all, they might want to tighten up security before any more dangerous criminals escape. Release the news of my escape the press, alert the muggle prime minister to my release too. Get the whole world to look for me and see if I back down. A special note to Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall and Peter Pettigrew, I am a lot more powerful than I was, and when I find you, I shall make sure you pay."
Rita Skeeter stopped writing and looked up confused, "Peter Pettigrew? But you-" A transfigured knife struck the wall a millimetre from her face without the figure on her bed even moving a muscle, she did not even see him wave a wand. Rita swallowed fearfully.
"Write, Rita," he said in that same soft voice, "don't talk or ask questions." She nodded and carried on doing what he wanted, she planned on getting out of this with all her limbs. "Elaborate it as much as you want along with this confrontation if you want, add things in, I really do not care, if you make me sound more threatening then that is just a bonus, but do not change the information I gave you, write for the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler if you so want. But if you anger me then I shall find you myself and crush you underfoot like a bug." Once his business there was done he was struck by another need, he walked over to her and grabbed her face in both of his, staring into her eyes, "call me a murderer, Rita."
"What?" she was startled, he'd admit it was a strange request.
"You heard me," he said in a quiet but not threatening voice. "Do it. Look into my eyes like you are now and call me a murderer."
"I don't understand."
"I didn't ask you to understand," his voice started to go cold as she continued to defy him, "I am telling you to obey me."
"What do you hope to gain from it?"
"DO IT!" The strange thing was, he did not know whether he wanted her to cave in and say it or remain resilient, Hagrid certainly did not hesitate and Hagrid was close to him, Rita was not close to anyone, she was married to her work.
"You're – you're a murderer." There was a slight stutter but utter conviction in her voice, her eyes did not waver when she said it, and the stutter was just because she was scared but then he had just sent a knife flying at her which had now turned back into a pencil and was sticking out of the wall via its lead. He closed his eyes, his fingers loosened slightly but he didn't let go of her face, he had to get over this, nobody was going to believe him, he'd be guilty until proven innocent, he had to get used to it. It hurt from Hagrid, it would hurt even more when he heard it from Remus, and he was bound to run into him eventually, after all, he did plan on getting him to pay his just desserts and he could not do that well from a distance.
"Say it again," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers."
"You're a murderer," she did not stutter this time. He felt the darkness surrounding his heart like a shield, a blanket protecting it. He felt like the warlock in the hairy heart from tales of Beetle the Bard, but he was not quite as crazy. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, feeling the contact of a human for a little longer before pulling away. He noticed that even though he was holding her face steady, she was not moving to pull away.
"You're getting off on this," he accused.
"Are you going to take advantage of me?"
"I would be lying if I said I didn't think about it," he lied. He took hold of her chin in one hand and tilted her face up so she was staring into his face again, "you want me to," it was not a question.
She shook her head, "I'm resigned."
"That's why your voice is so husky of course." A girl like her would feel attraction for someone like him, but he had not lain with someone since 7th year and did not plan to find himself someone now he had more important things to take care of. "I only respond to a yes," he smirked, opening the window; he kissed her forehead, not quite that desperate for human contact. "Just do your job; I have just threatened your life twice." He jumped out of the open window and landed onto his motorbike, he did not look back at her as he flew away but he heard her scream after him, "YOU'RE A MURDERER!" This time it just made him grin.
When he woke up a couple of days later he realised the lounge had been decorated with gold and red tinsel. It was Christmas day. Christmas he believed was destined to be a time of pain for him, and loneliness. He was going to spend every Christmas with James and Lily and Harry and had done for every holiday since he turned sixteen. He would spend it laughing and joking with Remus and playing with Peter. Then before his friends there had been his family – Regulus, who despite everything was always good to have around. But now it was just him, his family and James and Lily and Harry were dead or otherwise unattainable, Peter was a traitor and Remus had forsaken him. All in all, already it was shaping up to be a pretty shabby Christmas.
He made his way downstairs to where Kreacher had set up a tree and was sitting under it smiling at him. A turkey dinner was waiting at the table, there were no presents, but he did not really mind, he had not been expecting anything at all. "Kreacher, you decorated the house and brought a tree, and cooked turkey," he could not help but mention it whilst taking it in. "Did you – did you do all this for me, because you did not have to?"
"Do you not like it master? I thought you would enjoy it because you haven't had a Christmas here for ages, although I am afraid we shall have to skip the part usually hosted here. Your Christmas in prison cannot have been nice."
"I do like it, I am in awe, although I wish had Harry, but I don't know where he is yet, I will soon though. Now I am free, the order will send continuous checks on him to make sure I haven't found him, Remus might even go himself, Rita will make it sound like I am out for his blood, I'll do nothing to dissuade her, it will make them more urgent. I just need to keep tags on some of the members and then I will know. Today it will just have to be the two of us, come here," he beckoned; nervously the elf did what he was told. Once he was close enough Sirius drew him into a brief one armed hug, "thank you, Kreacher. You know you didn't have to."
"Hmm, is that so?" He asked, "it is though my duty to make sure you are happy. Besides, what would the world become, master… if everyone merely did what they had to do?"
Sirius stared into his servant's large eyes with shock. Finally, he shook his head and giggled. "I don't know what to make of you anymore, Kreacher. I mean, you're not acting like a total git, but neither are you crazy."
"Drink your tea. This git has a dinner to serve and you need to relax after the stressful days you've had, everything will fall into place one day I'm sure."
"No, you sit down at the table, have Christmas with me as a friend, not a servant, I don't want to be alone, I'll carve the turkey."
Rita Skeeter had done a good job, by the end of December both the wizarding and muggle world were on alert for him. He was considered delusional seeming as he had mentioned the rat, but she had included him, probably did not want to be crushed, and he would. Of course only about a paragraph was dedicated to what he wanted to say, the rest was about the confrontation. Apparently he had tried to take advantage of her but she had valiantly fought him off. He wrinkled his nose in distaste, not because the idea of having a fling with her objectionable to him because despite her questionable personality, she was rather attractive. However, the idea that she could fight him off had he indeed wanted to violate her was practically insulting.
He debated paying her a visit, but rape was beneath him and he certainly would not do it just to teach her a lesson. He was a convict, what exactly had he been expecting, that she pay him respect and sing his praises? No, she had done what she had to and if there were doubts about his power then heaven help the soul who decided they could face him. If he was outnumbered then he would be taken down, possibly, or if he was targeted by Dumbledore, this was the man who had taken down Grindlewald. But he did not want to beat Dumbledore; he wanted to gain his acceptance and pardon, if he could forgive a real death eater, Snape, then he could accept him. But the wounds for them were rawer and he had promised to protect them.
In January there was a huge blizzard that lasted the whole of the month. He had visits to make, but they were not essential, seeming as the only one he needed to find in any urgency was Peter, but nobody knew where he was but Peter. So he did the only thing he could do and meditated. Maybe once he was powerful enough he could use a 'point me' spell and follow it until he found him, but that would take time. His musing was disturbed by Kreacher walking into the room holding a bottle of fire whiskey, looking pale. "Do you think I like that stuff Kreacher, or are you just trying to get me drunk?" He asked with a small smile when he realized he had not brought a glass, wondering also what possible reason he could have for wanting to get him drunk.
Kreacher said nothing but handed it over. "You look rather pale Kreacher, are you sick?" He racked his brain thinking of a case in history where he could recall a house elf ever falling ill. "If you are under the weather you can take the week off, I know the common cold just won't go away. If you want I can get you a potion, I think there are some left." He was worried for his house elf, he had always been protective over someone being ill, especially now, because in Azkaban nobody cared. If it was serious then either you died and were left to rot or you had to deal with it and with the miniscule food you received it took a lot longer to recover. After Kreacher had just returned from insanity he did not want him to immediately fall to some other malady.
He'd had flu in jail once and not only did he have to deal with it, but it sunk into his chest because it was so cold in that hell and Gate Master had come over to jeer on top of it all. He had thrown stuff at him and hit him with spells and he could not even block because he should not have been able to do any sort of magic and he was too weak anyway. He had not even been able to move and he was left broken and bleeding and was able to do nothing about it. But he had learnt an important lesson – no one cared, and now he knew he could rely on no one but himself, but had a burning need to survive, he had come out stronger because of it.
"I was cleaning out the master bedroom sir and found the book of baronetcy."
"You know I don't care for it."
"Have you ever read it?"
"Has it been magically updated to have me the rightful owner of this place?"
"Yes sir, but the reason I came to find you was because I made a startling discovery I think you have the right to know. I looked at the beginning out of curiosity." He handed the book to his master and Sirius opened it to the very first page. Because it was a magical book it was still preserved and the ink had not even faded the very first name written, clear as day was Merlin Black.
"Well, well," Sirius said with a wry smile, snatching the fire whiskey and downing a couple of gulps, "who would have thought. You know what this means though don't you Kreacher? I have the potential to become the most powerful magician to ever live, better than Voldemort, better than Dumbledore, once I unlock my core, I could become a legend, I'm destined for it, I can feel it. I need to meditate more, that way I can become as great as I was meant to be." Kreacher just stood there and listened to help him organise his thoughts like Regulus did, it always helped to say it out loud, it was one of his attributes he really valued.
"Shall I invest in candles and calming music for you as well master?" Cheek was the other.
Sirius crossed his legs and threaded his fingers together. "Piss off Kreacher," he said with no venom behind it, still, the elf did what he was told. He breathed in a deep gulp of air as if he was getting ready to sing and let himself relax, and there he sat and did not move.
Two days later Kreacher was getting worried, he knew that Sirius being a weathered wizard could live for a week without water and even longer without food, but it can't be healthy. He did not want to lose the wizard who brought back his sanity so soon. He walked into the room and shook his arm and tried to rouse him but no matter what he did he would not listen. He decided to leave it another day, he checked on him again but no matter what he tried he remained comatose, a deep vibrating sound coming from his sinuses. There was only one thing left for him to do, he forced Sirius' eyes open and put him under a weak imperius curse to make him eat and drink something, and then he was back to meditating.
Kreacher knew that he was not sleeping, but he was at peace if the expression on his face was anything to go by. Every morning and evening he would check on him and brush his unruly hair and wash his head and hands, he was not going to strip his dignity without his permission after all. He would put him under an imperius curse and force him to eat and drink something and then he would leave him to meditate. He did not even stir when he was in control of his body; his eyes were glazed over and shut as soon as he was done. It was boring without Sirius, so when he was done with cleaning he would just sit by his master's side and imitate his position or curse the baronetcy book that had pushed him into this state.
Then suddenly Sirius let out a pained gasp, after so much silence it shocked the little elf into jumping up. Then he let out a low moan and fell onto his back and started to convulse, it was horrid to watch, heart wrenching really, but there was nothing he could do, he already knew this. Then suddenly, finally, his eyes opened. However there were no pupils or irises, just whites and they shone like beacons, power and a huge soul beaming from them like stars in the night sky. He tipped back his head and roared, but it was not in pain, it was in... triumph maybe, just power, he could feel the soothing electricity run through him and it forced him to his knees to be in the presence of someone with such a huge core of unlocked power.