Carry You Over To A New Morning
Remus had managed to stop Sirius's bleeding quite quickly but, sadly, he hadn't managed to stop the effects of whatever was affecting Sirius. He'd been here for hours; Remus had half-expected Mrs Black to appear shortly after his arrival, demanding to be told what was going on, but she wasn't heard from at all.
Remus didn't know which was worse.
Regulus had not returned, either. Remus suspected Sirius's younger brother hadn't been allowed to take Sirius to St Mungo's, and wondered idly in what state he was going to find the boy next. Apart from the Silencing Charm his Mother had cast on him when they had returned from the Visitor's Tea Room the very first time Remus had met the Blacks, however, he'd never had the type of injuries Sirius had had. And if he did, Remus had certainly never treated them.
Sirius's breathing was faint, if it was there at all. The diagnostic spells he'd cast after Sirius had fainted indicated magical damage to so many different body parts, Remus didn't even know where to start. And every time he fixed one of them, another worsened. He had been racking his brain for spells that might cause this sort of damage, but couldn't think of anything, not even when he went over all five-hundred pages of Moste Darke Magick in his mind. He'd come to the conclusion fairly shortly after that that whatever spell was affecting Sirius, it had been invented. And it was slowly killing him.
'Wish you could tell me what's wrong,' he told Sirius, softly. 'I'm trying, but it's not looking too well.'
Sirius's hand twitched, as if hearing him. Remus sighed, and covered the boy's hand with his own, squeezing in what he hoped was a comforting way. He noticed, for the first time, that Sirius's fist was clenched around something and he frowned, gently prying Sirius's fingers apart.
Was that – money? Remus took the coins from Sirius's hand, surprised, looking down at them. A silver Sickle clicked against his fingers cheerfully, but Remus was distracted by the Knut. Usually a blinking shade of bronze, this one was oddly discoloured, almost like – Remus's head whipped up sharply.
'Sulphur,' he whispered in surprise. 'Sulphur,' he said again, standing up, walking around the room in a bit of a panic. Copper reacted to sulphur in the body, discolouring the material. God – he wasn't – he needed Alice.
Alice responded immediately when he summoned her, appearing in the room in a flurry of robes. She made a soft noise of discontent upon spotting Sirius – who looked small and ill – and looked up at him with bright, blue eyes.
'What?'
'Sulphur,' Remus babbled. 'Sulphur poisoning, the coin, it was discoloured –'
Alice's expression darkened and she made her way over to the bed. She traced her fingers softly over the burn marks surrounding Sirius's mouth, which looked to be etched into his skin.
'This can't be sulphur,' she told Remus. 'It doesn't burn –'
Remus glanced down at his hand. '– silver,' he interrupted quickly, squeezing the Sickle. 'Silver polish does. It can burn through the oesophagus, cause trouble breathing, result in damage to the stomach, cause burns –'
Alice looked like she was about to throw up.
Remus's mind raced. Sirius had somehow been magically forced to ingest both sulphur and silver polish –
'But wouldn't there be a lot more damage to his mouth if he'd ingested them?' Remus said, thinking out loud.
Alice didn't respond, her attention focused instead on Sirius's Gryffindor jumper. She sniffed the fabric around his neck, at which Remus blinked, but then she looked up at him.
'Soap,' she said. 'Someone washed out his mouth,' she added, at Remus's blank look.
Remus felt a dangerous swell of nauseous, all-consuming anger in his stomach. Someone had magically washed out Sirius's mouth with sulphur and silver-polish, and then had either forgotten to take off the Spell or had left it on, deliberately. And Sirius – Remus realised with a jolt, when he felt he cold metal of the coins press against his hand – had recognised the spell, had known, and had told Remus in the only way possible.
Remus made a disgusted noise in his throat and grabbed his wand. Together, he and Alice spent the better part of three hours undoing the damage to Sirius's body.
Remus had other patients to take care of, but he checked on Sirius for the rest of the day like clockwork. Every time he saw Sirius's chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, he breathed a sigh of relief. There was no sign of Mrs Black, or any of the other family members, but Remus wasn't expecting them to show up, really.
So when he popped into the room after his final shift for one last check on Sirius before he headed home, he was shocked to find Regulus sitting on a chair next to Sirius's bed, Sirius's hand clasped in his. The house-elf was sat, brooding, in the corner.
Remus opened his mouth.
'It's my fault,' Regulus said, softly, not looking up at him, his eyes focused on Sirius's sleeping form. 'He did it for me.'
Remus sucked in a breath. 'What happened?'
Regulus looked at him, letting go of Sirius's hand. 'Is he all right?' he asked. The boy's concern and guilt were evident, but he didn't look like he was going to answer Remus's question.
'For all intents and purposes,' said Remus shortly, waving his hand. 'The damage will take a while to heal. My guess is two, three days. It was quite severe.'
Regulus's shoulders stiffened, but he gave no other indication that he'd heard Remus. 'I've to take him home,' he said, looking sleepy. Remus realised, all of a sudden, that it was two in the morning, and that Regulus was only nine.
'I can't –' Remus said, but Regulus didn't listen to him, ordering the house-elf to grab hold of Sirius's hand, and grabbing onto the creature's other hand.
'Thank you for your care, first assistant-Healer Lupin,' Regulus said.
Remus bowed automatically, then realised his mistake when, with a sharp crack, the three disappeared.
It took forty minutes of careful promises of drinks and dinner, but then the girl who was responsible for managing the patient files let him borrow the file labelled "Black, Sirius" for the night.
'See you Tuesday, then. And I'll need it back first thing tomorrow,' she called after him, and Remus smiled what he hoped to be his most winning smile at her, promising to do just that.
Back upstairs, in his research room, he pushed aside his research materials and opened the file to the middle. It opened like a book, and Remus flipped all the way to the beginning. Healer Wilkes' disembodied voice echoed up from the page.
'Age two. Sirius Black admitted to hospital with both front teeth run through his top lip. Performed correct charms; no lasting damage. End of report,' the first entry read.
It got progressively worse: 'Age four. Sirius Black admitted to hospital with a broken shoulder after run in with tree. Performed correct charm; no lasting damage. End of report.'
Wilkes never had anything to add, his voice finishing each report without any emotion. Even if Wilkes had suspected what Remus was now suspecting, he hadn't noted it down. That man would always, always, look out for only himself.
'Age five-and-a-half. Sirius Black admitted to hospital, having broken both hands and feet. Performed correct charms; no lasting damage. End of report,' Wilkes's voice said.
'Shut up,' Remus said, snapping the file shut, feeling sick. He drew in a sharp breath, and then looked up at the ceiling. He'd just have to ask Sirius again next time he came in.
If he was still alive by then.
Author's Note: The spell is one I came across in my notes for another unfinished story, in which it was equally horrible, but all in all, I've found it to be better suited to this one.
The effects of each component of the spell are true in real-life up to a certain degree, but I did take some liberties.