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The wolf is awakened – After what seemed like an age he came back to his normal self and looked at Kreacher with tearful but happy eyes, "I did it Kreacher, I found my core!" he ran a hand through his hair and blinked blearily as if he did not know where he was. "I talked to dear Grandpa Merlin; if he was still alive Voldemort would have been dealt with long ago. When in his presence his power was so great, it was awe inspiring, his soul, it amazed me, he was glowing, it is no wonder he is practically a God. He asked me if I was worthy, what my reason for living was, I must have passed because he unlocked my core, I am a true wizard now."
"I spoke to my magic as well. I am scared Kreacher, just a little. Power is a heavy burden, it was given to me the day I was born and has intensified every day since and was unlocked just now. I didn't know I had so much Kreacher, and probably would not know until I was as old and wise as Dumbledore himself." His voice was a wild whisper, so fast and quiet only a personal elf would be able to understand him. "One must strive to wield instead of be controlled by it," Kreacher noted his voice was getting less scared and more excited... and dark, neither of these Sirius' was his Sirius, but the powerful, excited dark one was easier to be a servant to.
"I do not know whether I have failed or succeeded when I hear it whisper to me. I can hear it Kreacher, it talks to me, it wants to be unleashed. This is why Merlin was so powerful, because he found and unlocked it by himself, his core I mean. That is why he had the power to raise Atlantis and level cities but had the wisdom not to do so. It is an incredible feeling Kreacher, it is like another limb, a wand seems so silly now, and I am going to feel like this forever." He grinned a feral grin and started laughing hard and wildly in a slightly disturbing way, "I feel INVINCIBLE Kreacher, and I am going to feel this way forever!"
His black eyes grew darker, almost haunted, "it's talking to me now Kreacher. It does not have feelings, it's... I think it is warning me. It tells me to dream, right here, right now, anything I choose, crack the sun open and paint my soul with its yolk, cast the fragments from me and turn the world into smoke, pull the tacks from the night and roll the sky up. If I want a new universe I have to but say the word and it will make a new one for me. It tells me I have the power to save the world; it hints however, that I have the power to destroy it as well." He shook himself out of daze and his nose wrinkled in disgust, "I stink," he mentioned, sounding a little bit more like his Sirius. "What's the date?"
"13th of March master."
"13th? I've been a vegetable for over a month, two months. That's weird; one would have thought I'd wake up from dehydration or hunger. You've been looking after your master, haven't you Kreacher? Thank you, without you I would not have achieved this. I'm sorry if you ever felt abandoned, it was not my intention. I am going to take a shower, fix a meal Kreacher?" He rose unsteadily to his feet, unsteady after so long in the same position and stumbled into the bathroom. A shower had always managed to solve everything for him even as a child. He could always let the troubles wash away in the hot water as it soothed his tense muscles; it left him clean in more than one way. Half an hour Sirius emerged from the shower and sat down at the table, "I might have missed their checkups on Harry, or maybe they have not."
He had never felt so lost in the world, but while helpless situations may destroy others, he had been hurt so many times in his life he had made sure he became stronger because of it. James was dead, Peter was a traitor, Remus probably hated him, he was on the run, and he was all alone. He forced himself to snarl instead of whine; he was a marauder, he was strong and he was going to make it through this. Harry was truly all he had in this world now, and he was going to have him. God damn it, if only he knew where he was. He looked out the window with his animalistic blue eyes, "Harry," he whispered, "I promise I will find you." Then suddenly the tiredness from all the exertion washed over him and he keeled over, leaving a distraught house elf to put him to bed. He did not wake up for a further two days.
"Accio Harry Potter," Sirius whispered gazing out of the smashed window of his home; apparently it had been shattered when he screamed earlier, still in a trance, knowing nothing would happen. He ran a large hand through his black hair that was now combed to perfection, something he had not had a chance to do in prison. If he had stayed there any longer he may have lost his mind, become the criminal that had been locked up, but he had prevailed, well, mostly. His magic had not diminished like he feared it might have done, it had grown in his desire for revenge and put everything right. He extended his hand towards the bottle of scotch on the table and the far end of the room and it came to him obediently without the usually required accio needed. Kreacher always had alcohol available in the house; it would be a shame to let it go to waste.
Well no one was going to tell him where he was, he would just have to locate the boy himself. He'd be under protection, that much was certain; it was the sort of protection, that was the question. Perhaps Dumbledore had taken him in himself, although it was unlikely, although powerful he was an old man, a headmaster yes but knew nothing about looking after young children. Perhaps he'd given him to an Auror to protect, a teacher such as dear Minerva McGonagall, or heaven forbid Snape, although he had had a strong connection to Lily. Perhaps he had been given to a strong wizard like Moody, if that were the case, Remus would know, he'd want to have the boy himself, he was also a godfather to him after all. He grinned; it would seem he had his next stop.
He was going to set off straight away, but Kreacher made him have a sleep first, it would not do for him to head into a possible fight without rest. It was a good thing he had taken up the role of mother because once he had had a sleep he thought about seeing Remus logically and instead of setting out to visit his usual haunts and known properties until he found him he did so using magic. It was a feat of magic that existed, privacy did exist in the wizarding world, but it certainly sped the process along. His eyes went to the fireplace and he extended his hand "flagu," he muttered and watched as a fire roared into life. The incantation was not necessary, but he felt more comfortable saying something, it was a habit he was sure would fade in time. Sirius stared despondently into the flames before muttering the words, "Remus Lupin."
He waited with baited breath, not sure why, there was no need to be nervous. He did not know how well it would work with no floo powder and having no destination to state, just a name, but his magic was whispering for him to do it. When nothing happened for a moment, he sank in his chair and told himself that he had not been expecting anything to happen anyway. But then, in a moment, he saw the fire swirl and he knew that his head had been formed in the flames of the fire in front of Lupin. He could see his 'dear friend' sitting in an armchair sipping alcohol, staring into the flames, first in boredom now an array of emotions played across his features, shock, fear, confusion, hate, anger... and there was bit of sorrow there, but no guilt... that was a pity, he would have found it so much easier to forgive him.
No, this was why he went to Rita first, she yelled it out into the night, he was a murderer, and he'd smiled. Lupin was sipping brandy by the fire when all of a sudden Sirius' head was formed out of the flames. He was so surprised by the action he almost fell out of his chair. "SIRIUS BLACK!" He yelled, "HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET OUT OF AZKABAN YOU TRAITOR! JAMES AND LILY WERE OUR FRIENDS, HOW COULD YOU TURN TO THE DARK SIDE? HOW COULD YOU? JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING MUTT!" He ranted as he tossed the brandy into the fire, causing a small fireball to shoot up the chimney and distorted Sirius' face temporarily, but he could not feel it, he was not actually there. "I'LL RIP YOU LIMB FROM LIMB, YOU HEAR ME?" Slight drunkenness had heightened his anger and his voice.
Sirius sat there calmly and waited until he had exhausted himself and plopped back down into his armchair. He knew from experience that it was totally useless to try and stop a slightly drunk Remus when he was in the middle of a rant, just try to console him afterwards. He did not blow his fuse very often, but it was one hell of a burnout when he did. "Are you quite finished?" He asked humourlessly in an uncharacteristic calm voice. Lupin was always the calm one and he was the one with the short fuse. Yet he understood his friend's reaction, his would have been the same if he was convinced the man before him was a murderer, James and Lily flower were deeply loved by both of them. The role reversal did not pass unnoticed by the werewolf.
Surprised by his former friend's uncharacteristic calm demeanour, all Remus Lupin did was nod, wondering why Sirius had contacted him. For someone on the run for murder and dark alliance it seemed an incredibly foolish move to contact a good friend of those he had betrayed who also happened to be a powerful auror. Sirius could be childish sometimes and had made bad choices in his time, but he was not an idiot. "I thought you would have more faith in me my old friend," Sirius sighed, his sadness actually seemed genuine and there was no sarcasm in the word 'friend', well maybe a bit, a lot, he was still bitter. It was useless to plead his case to Remus, well he already knew that, he'd shown himself to be a fake friend because he was not there when he needed him, he was hiding out here, sipping brandy by the fire.
"How are you doing this?" Remus asked suddenly, a true academic at heart, he could not keep his curiosity at bay for long. "I'm not on the floo network, and you don't know where I live!"
Sirius wondered whether he deserved to know. "If there isn't a spell for your needs, create one," he muttered. He remembered telling this to James when they were both children and quite successful pranksters and now he was telling Remus. His heart clenched at the thought of his late best friend whom everyone had thought he had betrayed. He must not let such feelings get to him now; he had a mission ahead of him. He had grieved already, a couple of years of it, in Azkaban and out. "'Create your own spell' that is how all great pranks were created after all. You could not look up how to cover a fellow pupil in warts or how to turn a teacher's hair bright green in any old book, these jinks are pieces of mastery one had to write oneself."
That would have to do as explanation, the days in which he would pour his heart to Remus no matter what were over. There was a time when Remus would have been the first person he'd tell about Merlin and his meditation, even more so than James because Remus could be serious when it counted whereas James was always playful. However, that was before he was betrayed, so for now it was just him and Kreacher, and Kreacher did not really count. "If there is one thing I'm good at it is writing my own spells, you just have to think outside the box." Remus still looked lost and Sirius sighed, well at least he had stopped yelling for the moment, it was time to step up the game. "Hold on, I'm coming through."
He leapt through the fire, he had barely reached the other side when Remus had his wand out and was firing at him. He had been expecting at and had the same shield he'd had up when he went to visit Rita, but with Rita it was different because he had been breaking and entering and Rita was a stranger. With Remus it was different because Remus was basically family he had said he was allowed to do this, he'd come here in good grace, because no matter what he could never bring himself to hurt his once best friend. He only had a shield up as precaution, because he refused to be brought down, but he had not expected Remus to shoot at him, be angry of course, scream and rage and maybe chuck the odd wine glass and bottle, but not raise his wand.
For some reason, coming from Remus it did not hurt him, his failure did not amuse him, it just made him growl in anger and he found himself wanting, desperately wanting to retaliate. Then his magic began to whisper to him, 'show him your power'. Sirius was tempted, he'd sent him a personal message in the Quibbler and the Daily Prophet, and so why not show him first hand just how strong he was? 'Teach him a lesson?' Well who was he to deny his own magic. His fingers flexed dangerously and the power flowed out of him so easily and into the sandy haired man. He was flown off his feet and landed in his chair. With another twitch of his mind ropes sprung out of nowhere and bound him to the seat.
Remus saw the absence of his wand and incantation and his eyes widened in fear. "Yes Remus, the last magician to do that without any silly instrument to aid him was Merlin. Are you sitting comfortably Moony?" Remus glared. "Then I shall begin, I have some questions for you."
"You have questions for me! You have no right to-" with another wave of his hand Sirius pressed the mute button and suddenly Remus' mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. He let him stutter, confused for a moment, before he took his hypothetical finger off said hypothetical button and Remus stared at him in shock and renewed fear.
"Where's Harry?"
"You have no right to ask where little-" the mute button was pressed again and Sirius kept it down for about a minute before releasing it again.
"Where's Harry?"
"I'll never t-"
"We can do this all day Remus, one more time, where's Harry!" This time Remus just glared at him in silence, the wolf in him growling, eyes glinting amber, he looked furious, well that was to be expected. "So now you do not have the spell on you, you are refusing to speak." He crooked his finger at Remus' wand and it flew into his hand, he examined it. "Birch wood," he commented, "core is rare, black unicorn, very rare. You know Hans Christian Andersen once said that he thought that shoes have a life of their own. The ones that squeak don't like to leave the shop, and the ones that hurt don't like the person that's wearing them. It takes a while to find the shoes that are perfect; they seem to choose you more than the other way round."
He smiled pleasantly. "Wands are the same; they choose the owner, not the other way round. They have a life of their own too because they do not work for another and usually cannot really hurt their master. This wand is incredibly rare, you take such good care of it, by its complexion I see you still polish it every other day. This is not something that could just be brought again, almost impossible to replace. And think of the memories, the battles you've fought, the hexes you have shot, the pranks you've played with it. This was your prize possession as a child and is probably still in your top three now, it would be just devastating if it was snapped."
Remus did not rise to the bait. "I won't sell out Harry for a wand." His eyes however did not leave the stick in his hands.
"We'll see about that? Why is he not with you?"
"What?"
"You are his Godfather after me, why is he not with you?"
"Dumbledore," was the only answer he gave.
"Where did Dumbledore place him, with who?"
Silence.
"Remus..." he growled.
Silence. 'Teach him a lesson'. Sirius strode over and slapped him round the face, hard, letting all that bitterness and being abandoned resound in it. Remus' face was knocked sideways and when he looked up again to glare, his lip was busted, but he was laughing like Sirius was when they came to arrest him. "You come to kill me Padfoot? You going to kill me like James and Lily and Peter? Like you want to do to Harry? Go on! Do it, now! I dare you! Kill me! Kill your best friend!" He was screaming by this point and laughing manically, making Sirius cock his head. Oh God it had finally happened, the old werewolf has lost his marbles.
Suddenly he thought about what it would be like if he did kill Remus. No, a world without Remus was almost too much too bare to think about. He had lost James and Lily and temporarily Harry to the Dark Lord Voldemort and Peter to the dark, he could not lose Remus as well, although in a way he already had. A quick look of sadness flashed over his face but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "I have not come to kill you Remus," he said quietly and his voice was the softest it had been since escaping Azkaban. "Believe it or not I do not actually want you to die. I do not like it that you abandoned me but I will always consider you a friend."
"Don't spout that rub-"
"Don't ruin the moment Remus," he said, pushing the mute button once more. "You are behaving like me, shouting expletives without stopping to consider, shut your mouth and think." As he said these words he decided to do the same thing and he stopped for a moment and looked at this man with his sandy hair hanging over his eyes and his busted lip bleeding, blood dripping down his chin, Remus not caring, barely seeming to notice. It did not ruin his complexion, it would not leave a mark, but without his wand, for it was still in his grasp, it would continue to mar his looks. That had not been Peter like everything else had been. It had not been Voldemort or a death eater; he had done this, him. Sirius Black. Rule of survival, don't feel guilt. But... this was Remus.
It was disconcerting, sure he had told Hagrid he had given up and would start to act like everyone wanted him to, expected him to, but now he was seeing the repercussions of that, he was not so sure. Remus would always be a friend, maybe not as dear to him as before but he could not help it. He had never liked his home or his family with exception of Regulus, and on that very first day on the Hogwarts Express when he met James and Peter and the man in front of him, he gained a new family. These were the people he'd been missing all his life, he felt instant kinship with him. He loved them with all his heart and they went through so much together as brothers.
Trust is where the fine line between friendship and family lay. With a friend if you abuse that trust the friendship is lost, whereas with a family member you can abuse them again and again and still be able to turn to them in need, as Regulus found out, continuously. These boys were his family, he could feel it inside, knew it. So even though he disliked Remus at the moment as he disliked his biological family, he still loved him. It was the same with Peter in a weird, twisted sort of way. Despite the fact he was going to kill him when he got the chance, he would cry when he delivered the blow, because he would be killing his brother. He loved his brothers, he really did, he just did not like them anymore.
He released the mute, "where did Dumbledore place my Godson Remus." He did not know how much Remus saw, and he was unsure if he cared, he just knew that he had the tendency to be an open book; at least, he was to his brothers, because they had learnt to be able to read one another. While he had not said much, he was sure that at least half of the different emotions and cognitions presented themselves on his face while he was thinking, watching the blood drip down Remus' chin, drip, drip, drip, and he panted like the animal he was inside, like the deadly predator he could see fighting, howling to break free as he glared up at him with glinting amber eyes through sandy hair which had fallen over them.
Remus took some deep breaths to calm himself so he could get this over and done with. "Black I... I don't know," he said eventually, "he would only let a few know, I don't even know who does." He looked at his feet, and Sirius understood, he was telling the truth, he wished he did know but he did not, and he missed him too.
"Why is he not with you?"
"I told you, Dumbledore took him."
"And you let him? You just stood by and let it happen, you did not even try to get custody of him?" His voice did not rise but he let the man know he was unhappy with him. "I do not trust the old fool, but then, I do not trust anyone anymore." He shook his head sadly, "oh Remus, I am disappointed in you even more, you do remember Harry don't you?" Remus did not answer, having the sneaking suspicion that he would have been silenced if he tried, he was right. "Well it looks like I shall have to ask another, I would appreciate it if we could keep this conversation strictly confidential, but if it happens to make its way to Dumbledore's knowledge, so be it." He dropped the wand and apparated, ropes dissolving with his departure.
Harry sat alone in the darkness of his cramped cupboard watching the exposed light bulb as it swayed back and forth on its chain. His punishment had ended hours ago and his aunt and uncle had just tossed him into the cupboard as carelessly as they would a broken vacuum. These punishments were getting more and more frequent as he grew older and he never knew what it was he was supposed to have had done to deserve them. He tried to be good, to apologise even for the things he hadn't done, to be respectful, to love his family despite the fact they loathed him and clearly favoured Dudley. He wanted to run to them for comfort when he had bad dreams or when he was not feeling well or was frightened, but it soon became apparent they did not care and the root of these bad dreams and illnesses and injuries and frights were them.
Soon enough the only nightmares he suffered were those which had the Dursleys in it and when he was ill his list of backbreaking chores were only longer. He didn't know when he would be allowed to enjoy the freedom of the outside world. Would he only be imprisoned here for a few days... weeks... a month? Would he be allowed to eat? When and how much? No, Harry didn't know the answer to any of these questions, although he suspected that he wouldn't like the answers when he received them. Nevertheless, Harry couldn't bring himself to care. As a matter of fact, he couldn't bring himself to do anything. Soon enough he stopped wanting to gain their affection and his life became one of fighting for survival instead of seeking for acceptance. Acceptance was a thing of the fairytales Petunia read to Dudley, as was love.
He just sat on his cot, allowing the broken spring to press into his battered back. It was painful, but his emotional grievances were far more painful than anything his mammoth of an uncle could subject him to. He allowed himself one small sniffle but he couldn't cry, if he cried it would be double, he learnt that the first time he'd been beaten. Every night he prayed for someone to come and take him away from the Dursleys. He prayed that he would wake one morning to discover he had a rich uncle somewhere far away who loved him and had been looking for him ever since his parents died in that car crash but the Dursleys had hidden away. He prayed that this kind uncle would find him and adopt him and raise him and love him and then severely punish the Dursleys for hurting him the way they did.
Then one day he received an answer to his prayers, someone visited him in his dreams. It was a tall, muscled man with shaggy black hair and blue-grey eyes. He was dressed in black robes with a black cloak and was wearing a signet ring. He looked majestic and despite seeming rather dark and powerful, when he looked at Harry there was benevolence in his eyes. He held him close and said he was going to come for him. He told him to hold tight and be strong and not to worry, he was going to come for him and take him away and raise him the way he deserved and love him. But he wasn't here, and Harry had been beaten worse than ever before and he was lying in his cupboard, broken and he could feel some illness creeping into him.
He was cold, he was finding it difficult to breathe and he tried to stay awake but it was not working, he just kept feeling his eyelids drooping. He tried to conjure up the image of the man who said he was going to take him away, save him, but the face would not come to him, the only thing he could remember of him was his blue-grey eyes. "He lied to me," he muttered darkly for the thousandth time as he rocked back and forth in his little prison, arms wrapped around his knees that were drawn up to his chest. "He promised to protect me and to take me away and he lied!" now he was hurting and he was scared and he was ill and there was nothing anybody was going to do about it. He blinked back the threatening tears once more.
He tried to reason with himself that this man had come to him in a dream, nothing more, the one who had promised to save him was just a figment of his imagination, he could not be angry at that. Nobody actually ever came and promised to take him away; he just wanted to believe they did because he hated the fact that he was all alone in this world. He liked to think there was someone out there who gave a damn about him, who would love him the way uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia loved Dudley. Nobody actually came, it was a harsh truth but he was alone in the world, that was the way it had always been and it was about time he accepted it. But still, he could not escape from the crashing waves of abandonment wracking his little body.
Harry just couldn't fathom what had happened to him, it made no sense. He didn't want to believe it, but every time he managed to trick himself into believing the attack was all just a bad dream, the excruciating pain of his mutilated body would force him back to the grim reality of his lost childhood. Soon questions of 'How', became questions of 'Why'. His visitor in his dreams had seemed so outraged by Harry's abuse as a child and he had promised time and time again as he wrapped him in his arms and hugged him close, lovingly, that this would never happen again. His promise had seemed so sincere, and there was conviction in his soft but powerful blue eyes, but this was the reality, he was lying here broken in his cupboard again, nobody had come for him.
Even before Harry had met this man of his dreams, he had always been extremely careful about whom to trust and before now he would have considered himself a good judge of character, experience had taught him not to trust easily. He seldom let anyone in, in fact this man who may not even exist had been the first person he had let close to his heart, the first person he had relied on and trusted and he'd been let down. The tears came streaming down in cheeks as he cried silently, a skill he had grown talented in as it was the only way he could safely express his pain. Of all the questions running through his mind, one seemed to overpower the others and constantly returned to the forefront of his brooding; 'how could I have been so easily fooled?'
Harry racked his brains, desperate to find a sign he may have missed in the past, but there was nothing. His memories taunted him. He tried to think of a reason that would explain his would be saviour's absence. He made up excuses as to why he had been abandoned, trying to work out why he had been forsaken, the man who loved him was buying him presents first, or maybe he could not find the Dursley's house. He started to pray to all known and unknown deities that the stranger would come. He started to apologise and swore he'd be good, praying so hard his head hurt and the tears pooled around him, he was not sure what he was apologising for or how he had been bad and praying that unlike with his uncle, it would work and he'd be saved.
Harry found himself in a hopeless predicament. The more he tried to find something that would justify hating the missing member of his family for not coming for him like he said he would, for that was who he must be to him, he surmised, the more Harry ached for him.For most of his life, Harry had struggled to quash his desire to have a mother just like all the other children around him. This was rather difficult, considering that poor Harry was subjected to excessive displays of motherly affection almost daily when he watched his Aunt Petunia fawning over Dudley, a constant reminder of what he was missing out on. Despite the challenges, Harry managed to suppress his wish for a mother quite well. it was so much easier to carry on when one stopped wanting, when you detach yourself from your desires, you cease becoming disappointed when you receive nothing.
Except in times like these, when he had been hurt so badly that all he wanted was his mother to come and hold him and rock him in her lap and run her fingers through his hair and tell him that everything would be alright. Harry felt the tears streaming steadily down his face and wiped them away angrily because it was a futile dream, it was something he learnt to without and would continue to do so. He had no mother, or father, they had both died and left him all alone to go to these monsters who did not care about him and took great joy in tormenting him. His one ray of hope had been that nightly visit from the man with the black hair and the blue eyes and it seemed now that he had been nothing more than a dream to keep him sane.
Even though he felt more injured than ever in his young life, so much so he was not sure if he was going to pull through, for indeed he was in no doubt that he was falling very ill with the growing difficultly to draw breath and the unexplainable cold, no one was coming. Saying please was not going to work because no one was listening, it never did work with his family and it was not going to work with creatures of legends and dreams either. Apologising for deeds he had not done was not going to ease the pain and praying was not going to alleviate the illness and make him well. Whoever had told him that anecdote about dreams were right, dreams were like rainbows, only fools chased them, hoping to find a pot of gold or some ray of light at the end.
Only fools chase dreams, he could whisper it to himself again and again and it was going to make no difference. He knew dreams were only in your head and that they don't come true, but he didn't care, because he wanted that dream so, so badly. It was the only things he had ever wanted in his life and would chase it to the corners of the universe to gain it, and if that made him a fool so be it. He was already broken and abused and he may well die tonight, so there was no need for him to be smart and to look up, so why not become a fool as well? He would unashamedly become the biggest fool the Earth had known just to gain one glimmer of that brilliant dream.