The day after the McKinnon massacre, the Ministry legalized Unforgivables against Death Eaters. Sirius had to suppress a wave of hysterical laughter when Abraxas angrily read the article aloud for the whole household. Good to know he wouldn't be thrown in Azkaban for killing Rabastan. He suppressed more laughter when he later took the paper from a disgruntled Abraxas and saw his burning down of the Roxy Theater did not even rate the front page. The article about the McKinnons did list both Marlene and Ben amongst the deceased; he had yet to hear from Moody whether that was true.
Other Death Eaters greeted the news of Rabastan's death and the Ministry's retaliation aggressively. There was a spree of anti-muggle violence that had nothing to do with Sirius and his team, whom he instructed to stay home. There was no point in letting themselves get arrested or killed extra-judicially when they didn't even have a quota to meet. Bella called on Sirius to duel every evening, unleashing her anger and grief in a flurry of Darker-than-usual spells and advice for how he could ensure his own survival the next time he joined an execution mission. Rodolphus was conspicuous only in his absence. He was visiting other family while arranging the funeral for his younger brother, so between the silent house, wailing house elf, and manic Bellatrix, it was as if both Lestrange brothers were dead. It was a relief to return to Malfoy manor at night.
On Monday, Sirius finally heard from Moody that Marlene and Ben were safe and in hiding.
He did not tell Moody he had killed Rabastan. It was the first murder he had not confessed.
Tuesday was Lucius Malfoy's trial, which Sirius attended, both as a duty to Narcissa and, ironically, on behalf of the Dark Lord who expected the event to be something of a flashpoint with the sky-high tension in the wizarding world. He wanted a Marked Death Eater on the scene who could call him if needed, but obviously not one who was already wanted by the Ministry. Sirius was probably the only candidate who had every excuse to be at the trial as one of Lucius' extended family, and no reason to be called away from the proceedings should they drag on interminably. And so he sat next to Narcissa at the end of the Malfoy bench in the cavernous room.
It was only after he took his seat and noted that there was not one but five chain-bedecked chairs on the trial room floor that it occurred to him this was not just Lucius' trial but also Titus Crabbe's, Gaius Goyle's, Percival Parkinson's, and Amycus Carrow's. Merlin, he was a craven fool for not thinking about them.
The doors opened, and the temperature dropped precipitously as eight dementors escorted the five accused Death Eaters into the room. They all looked terrible, grimy and disheveled. Parkinson had tears streaming down his face. Goyle kept flinching and shivering. Crabbe and Carrow just looked supremely tired. And Lucius... had a blank, confused expression like he did not know what was going on. Odd. The dementors led the Death Eaters to their respective chairs, then turned to drift away. Bizarrely, Lucius appeared inclined to keep following the creatures, until Parkinson grabbed his ragged sleeve and directed him into a chair before sitting down as well. The chains slithered to bind all five. Lucius was the only one who pulled against them, repeatedly, and only with his right hand. Sirius shared a glance at Narcissa, who looked distinctly troubled. There was something wrong here.
Bartemius Crouch Sr. was presiding over the trial. He stood up to call the court to order. "Criminal trial of the thirty-first of October, into offenses committed by Amycus Carrow, Titus Crabbe, Gaius..." he listed the names alphabetically, then the long list of crimes for which they were accused. Only the first two concerned muggle-baiting. The rest had to do with fighting with the aurors come to arrest them and membership in a terrorist organization. "How do you plead, Amycus Carrow?"
"Not guilty."
"Titus Crabbe?"
"Not guilty."
"Gaius Goyle?"
"Not guilty."
"Lucius Malfoy?"
Lucius looked up and smiled with eerie politeness. "Yes?"
"How do you plead?" Crouch repeated irritably.
Lucius blinked and assumed a puzzled expression which soon cleared. "Ah yes, we're thrilled you know, baby expected in early June. It's a good birth month, I'm sure you'll agree..." he blathered irrelevantly, jumping from inane topic to inane topic. The other four chained Death Eaters stared at him in mixed confusion and suspicion. Sirius glanced at Narcissa again. She looked worried, as did Lucretia. Abraxas looked horror-stricken. Crouch attempted to speak again, but Lucius' prattling continued unabated. Crouch slammed his gavel down, and Lucius startled and giggled. "Goodness me, was that a lightning strike?"
Abraxas leapt to his feet with an expression of undiluted rage. "I demand a recess! There is something wrong with my son!"
Crouch sneered at him. "The only thing wrong with your son, Lord Malfoy, is a distinct lack of moral character and well-deserved dementor exposure."
Abraxas gestured wildly. "This isn't dementor exposure!"
"Of course it is. That or an underhanded ploy to plead insanity and escape justice."
"You cannot be sure. Will someone please check?"
There were enough disconcerted mutterings in Abraxas' favor, Crouch consented to this, with obvious reluctance, and nodded to someone Sirius could not see.
"Lucius Malfoy, do you consent to use of Legilimency on your person, for the sole purpose of diagnosis of mental disability and not for determination of criminal guilt?"
"I so admire the strides you have made in protecting our fair community from those dangerous hooliga-"
"Lord Abraxas Malfoy, do you authorize emergency use of Legilimency on your son and heir, Lucius Malfoy, for the sole purpose of diagnosis of mental disability and not for determination of criminal guilt?"
"Yes."
"Proceed."
To Sirius' surprise, he recognized the harried Obliviator, Wayne Entwhistle, that next walked down to the floor. He supposed Mulciber had dropped the Imperius by now. Yes, the curse could be sustained for weeks and months at a time, but that was tricky to do and often not worth it, according to Bella. Sirius had never had reason to try. Entwhistle gently took Lucius' jaw in his hands and guided his gaze up to meet his eyes. "Legilimens..."
Lucius abruptly stopped talking, instead stared slack-jawed straight ahead as he had when he first entered the room. It did not take long for Entwhistle to let go and stumble backwards, blanching paler than the Azkaban inmates.
"What is it?" Abraxas called down anxiously.
Sirius leaned forwards. Entwhistle slowly turned and stared up at Crouch with an expression of horror.
"Well?" Crouch asked impatiently.
"The... the last thing he clearly remembers hearing, you honor, is... 'Imperio.'"
Anything else he might have said was lost in the Wizengamot's angry shouting that Crouch completely failed to contain. Sirius fell back on his bench, shocked. This didn't make sense. Lucius could not have been under an Imperius this whole time... could he? He dimly registered a sobbing Narcissa grabbing his hand. He embraced her automatically. Maybe Entwhistle was still cursed himself and was lying? That must be it. Sirius shuddered. That must be it, because if not, if Lucius really was insane now, it was Sirius' fault for getting him sent to Azkaban in the first place. There was a reason the Imperious curse was such a solid defense for getting out of Azkaban. It wasn't because it was always believed. It was because sending someone to the dementors while under Imperious, Confundus, or other mind-altering enchantments or potions that inhibited one's ability to resist the creatures' effects was itself a crime, and the Imperious could only be detected once it started to obviously malfunction. Even then, there was no way to confirm when the curse was lifted, because the damage could persist for months or years...
Eventually, Crouch banged his gavel loud enough for people to notice when he called a recess. Six dementors escorted four Death Eaters back to their holding cells; the Wizengamot did at least vote not to return them to Azkaban pending further investigation and completion of the trial. The Malfoy family, and Sirius, escorted unresisting and unaware Lucius to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
The Dark Lord was furious at the meeting that night. Sirius arrived late, almost an hour after his arm started to burn, because he had still been at the hospital with the Malfoys, at first for moral support and then to fend off reporters attempting to harass Narcissa and Lucretia while Abraxas was tied up with the bureaucracy of admitting an accused Death Eater to the hospital.
The Dark Lord hit him with a Cruciatus the moment he entered the meeting room, dropping him to the floor. It was more intense and lasted longer than the other time he had experienced the curse. As soon as it lifted, the only thing he could see was the Dark Lord stooping over him menacingly, breath hot on his face. Where had Sirius' mask gone?
"Did you know?" Voldemort hissed.
"My lord?" Sirius gasped, struggling to pull his thoughts back to cohesion.
"Did you know Lucius would claim the Imperius defense?" Voldemort clarified, no less angry.
Sirius shook his head. "No, my lord!" He was rewarded with more pain. "I swear I didn't know!" The Dark Lord invaded his mind with Legilimency then, and Sirius frantically offered up his feelings of shocked confusion whilst watching the trial, as well as the horror and guilt that had developed at St. Mungo's, though he meticulously concealed the true reason for the guilt. Sirius cried out and jerked involuntarily when the mental contact abruptly ceased.
Voldemort growled, lifted him up with wandless power, and half-dropped, half-threw him at a chair next to Bella. Bella was also unmasked and bore the haggard appearance of torture. Looking around the room quickly, Sirius saw half the Death Eaters present had bare faces. He did not recognize all of them, but the ones he did were members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, men and women Lucius would have known well and had frequent contact with. He committed every face to memory as best he could.
The doors opened again, and in walked a masked Death Eater with Wayne Entwhistle. The Dark Lord whirled around to snarl at them. "You! Did you lie before the Wizengamot, Obliviator?"
"No," he said dully.
"Drop the damned Imperius, Mulciber," Voldemort spat. The Death Eater escorting Entwhistle flinched and bowed obsequiously. The Obliviator blinked several times and swayed in place, then his eyes widened in fear and alarm. He started hyperventilating and tried to back away. Mulciber conjured ropes around him but did not let him fall. "Did you lie before the Wizengamot today?" Voldemort repeated, eyes narrowed.
"N-n-nno." He stiffened suddenly, and his mouth gaped open in a silent scream. Sirius realized this was the Dark Lord's Legilimency at work. It was awful. When it ended, Entwhistle toppled forwards. Mulciber fell on top of him, now shrieking and twitching himself under Voldemort's Cruciatus.
"The Ministry man does not lie," Voldemort said, softly and viciously. "Did you do this, Mulciber? You have such an affinity for mind magics. Did you curse Lucius? Or cast a Confundus and implant a false memory, perhaps?" Mulciber did not answer, still panting and sobbing and unable to speak from the torture curse. "Crucio!" The screams resumed. Sirius wished he could block out his ears. He did not particularly like Mulciber, but he doubted the boy had cursed Lucius. Why would he have done it? When would he have had the opportunity? The Cruciatus lifted, thank Merlin, and Voldemort again got his answers through aggressive Legilimency. Mulciber was deposited in the chair next to Sirius, trembling, terrified, but alive and exculpated. Still gasping for breath, the young man ripped off his suffocating mask with shaking hands.
The Dark Lord paced the room, fuming. No one spoke. No one moved. Entwhistle whimpered now and then when Voldemort trod on him.
He stopped pacing quite suddenly and looked directly at Sirius. Mulciber subtly leaned away from him, and Sirius did not blame him for that. The Dark Lord took his seat at the head of the table and steepled his fingers. He said quite calmly, "One of our own has been mentally violated. This is an unacceptable transgression. The question is who did this, and when. The why will follow. Sirius, you accompanied Lucius most frequently of our gathered fellows today. Come. Sit by me." He beckoned with long fingers. Sirius did not dare disobey. He got up, moved a few places down the table and sat back down. "Show me what you remember of your time with dear Lucius," he commanded. Sirius moistened his lips and nodded. He met Voldemort's eyes and let him into his mind. The contact was much gentler this time. Voldemort silently sifted through Sirius' memories of the summer, all those carefree lunch meetings, and that last fateful day in August. He offered up as well his whispered conversation with Narcissa in the hospital, both of them wracking their brains for any hint of what had happened to Lucius. Even after dredging up all this memory, he was still perplexed. Sirius or at the very least Narcissa would have noticed a change in Lucius' behavior over the summer, and access to prisoners in Azkaban was highly restricted, with even men like Abraxas needing hefty bribes to see their own family. If this nightmare was real, and Lucius was under the Imperius curse, then most likely it had either been placed a very long time ago, or it was placed by someone in the Ministry. Neither of which made much sense, unfortunately...
Voldemort withdrew from Sirius' mind and reached a hand back towards Entwhistle, who slid across the floor to his grasp. He lifted the man up to eye level. "Show me exactly what you saw. You will not resist this time if you want to live." He stared into the man's panicked eyes for several minutes, then smiled. "Thank you for being so cooperative. Avada Kedavra." He let the Obliviator's body fall back to the ground. He settled back in his chair, looking disgruntled but somehow satisfied. He did not explain what he had seen in Entwhistle's mind. "Sirius, you will convey our sympathy to the Malfoy family and tell Abraxas I would speak with him privately at his earliest convenience." Sirius assumed that meant tonight, or else. "As for the rest of you... Tomorrow we mourn. There shall be no public retaliation for this or for the death of our dear Rabastan. This travesty is an opportunity for the Ministry to learn it must be unfailingly humane with the treatment of its citizens. We shall make no moves that could prevent our government from seeing the light. Mulciber, please dispose of your pet. Dismissed."
The only thing Sirius could think as he left the place was what hypocrisy. This war was making less and less sense the longer he was involved. He had a feeling the blood purist propaganda he had heard the most at Hogwarts, the story that had seemed to define the Death Eaters, was just that - propaganda, and only one of several campaigns. Blood purity was not the reason to slaughter a family like the McKinnons. Blood purity couldn't be the message that won someone like Audrey to the cause. It wasn't even what Bella had used to recruit him. Voldemort didn't care about muggle deaths, only about the strategic violence, which he used to massacre a household that surely contained mostly noncombatants, leisurely playing with their victims. What was the point of it all? Power, he supposed. Mindless sadism? The Ministry must be unfailingly humane with the treatment of its citizens... Fuck. Off.
No relief for the wicked. Rabastan's funeral was the next day, Samhain.
The funeral of a Death Eater was an odd thing, a mirror of the fractures in their society. For a family as prominent as the Lestranges, this event should have disrupted half the wizarding world with pomp and ceremony, but no, it had to be hidden as if in shame. Someone had to go to the Ministry to collect the body, but it couldn't be Rodolphus or Bellatrix. Instead, the closest living blood relative who wouldn't be arrested on sight was a younger first cousin, Maximillian Pucey. The funeral was invitation-only, and anyone un-Marked who wanted to attend, including Narcissa and Lucretia, not sure about Abraxas, had to sign a binding magical contract not to reveal the identities of other mourners nor to attack other mourners. Sirius thanked his stars he was Marked and so wouldn't further complicate his life with a contract limiting his usefulness as a spy.
There could be no public processional. Instead, the entire event took place within the warded grounds of Lestrange Manor. The ballroom was draped in funerary black. Rabastan's aunt and Bella had cleansed, dressed, and laid out the body in the center of the room in an open coffin. As one of Rabastan's comrades-in-arms on the night of his death, Sirius had the dubious honor of being pallbearer, along with Rodolphus, Maximillian, Yolande Mulciber, Corban Yaxley, and Evan Rosier. Sirius felt extremely discomfited with the arrangement as Rabastan's actual murderer, but at least it gave him an excuse not to sit with his parents, who had joined up with the Malfoys just behind the last of Rabastan's second cousins. He sat in the front row next to Bella instead, who took his hand, squeezed it viciously, and then wouldn't let go. Voldemort sat right behind him, unfortunately. It rather felt like the Dark Lord was breathing down his neck the whole time as Rodolphus gave his eulogy in a slightly strangled monotone. Sirius honestly felt for Rodolphus, even though the man was evil. He knew what it was like to be the older brother, and Rabastan was eight years younger. Sirius wouldn't know what to do with himself if something happened to Regulus, and he would probably die if something happened to Regulus on his watch.
When the time came, Sirius and the other five pallbearers lifted the coffin and carried it out into the garden. They followed veiled Bellatrix on a winding course through the gardens and woods, far enough to ensure the line of mourners all made it out of the house. Bella and four other witches lit the enormous Samhain bonfire and threw the prepared sacrifices of bones and blood onto it, hopefully not human but Sirius wouldn't put it past this crowd. The pallbearers marched thrice around the bonfire, which burned ever higher with each circle, then they trooped back around to the front of the manor and right back inside. The ceremony may have all the trappings of Samhain and old money, but in the end they were still just walking the perimeter of a little quarantine.
Only the closest family descended with them down to the crypt below the solarium that used to be an ancient and disused chapel, converted sometime in the nineteenth century. They set Rabastan's coffin on a plinth next to his parents. Rodolphus and Bella took hands to chant the spells that would slow the decay of Rabastan's body to a crawl. Sirius decided he'd rather be cremated when he caught a glimpse of Rabastan's and Rodolphus' great-great-grandfather, who had been laid to rest in a time when glass coffins were fashionable. He had to force himself not to lean away from its gross, desiccated, open eyes sitting in a somewhat papery but otherwise surprisingly plump and life-like face fifty years later.
Then it was back upstairs to the reception. Sirius joined in the several ritual toasts to the dead, then spent the rest of it hiding from his parents. His father Lord Orion Black was fairly easy to avoid, since the man was quickly swallowed in a crowd of sycophants that rivaled the Dark Lord's. Sirius ended up planting himself in Voldemort's shadow and then never leaving his vicinity, merely shifting position to keep as many people as possible between himself and his mother. Bella, Narcissa, and even Uncle Cygnus must have found this hilarious since they were obviously helping him, intercepting Walburga multiple times as she attempted to corner him.
His definitive salvation from talking to his parents came in the form of Rodolphus getting fed up with all the extra people imposing on his grief. The older man stomped over to Sirius and invited him to join him in the parlor "for a smoke." At first, Sirius was confused because Rodolphus didn't smoke, but he followed along anyway. When they reached the parlor, Rodolphus closed the floo, asked for Sirius' remaining half pack of cigarettes and tossed all of them onto the smoldering fire. The room rapidly filled with smoke, and the two of them sat in silence with bubble head charms. The door only opened once, and whoever it was quickly slammed it shut again, coughing loudly. They stayed there for over an hour before Posy came to inform them the guests were getting ready to leave and Rodolphus needed to come see them off. She could barely get the message out whilst blubbering dramatically as only an unhappy house elf could. Sirius lingered to open the flu and force the cloud of smoke back up the chimney where it belonged, then followed Rodolphus back to the ballroom.
The first to depart was Voldemort himself. Sirius was not surprised to learn the Dark Lord disliked funerals. Orion and Walburga Black left soon after and without a scene or even a last attempt to get to Sirius, but only after a somewhat heated-looking discussion with Uncle Cygnus. Sirius figured Narcissa had probably put Uncle Cygnus up to it for Bella's sake, even though Bella probably would have welcomed the distraction of a Black shouting match. The crowd thinned fairly quickly after that. Sirius rejoined Bella and Narcissa's circle just as the Malfoys were saying their goodbyes. Sirius was about to follow suit when Bella grabbed his hand. "Stay a little longer won't you, Siri?"
Sirius shrugged and waved Narcissa away. "Sure thing, Bella." He stayed next to her while the last of the matrons passed by to say their formulaic condolences and kiss the air over her cheeks. When it was only Rodolphus and some of his cousins and uncles left in the hall, Bella turned to face him, all her controlled, ladylike façade falling away. She tore off her lace veil and dropped it on the floor.
"Let's mourn Rabastan, Siri. Properly."
"What did you have in mind?" Sirius asked cautiously.
Bella grinned and extracted a familiar paperweight from the pocket of her black velvet dress robes. "I think my dearly departed brother-in-law deserves a whole set of these. I have some victims in mind I think he'd approve of, but feel free to suggest a few of your own."
Sirius stared at her. He couldn't grin and go along with her insanity, not this time. "No Bella, we can't."
She pouted. "Of course we can. He deserves it! How can you think otherwise?"
"That's not what I meant."
Her expression brightened, and she said soothingly, "I get it, you're worried someone else might get hurt, but you don't have to be! Rodolphus will come, and we can ask Evan and Walden." Who the bloody hell was Walden? "Not Antonin, he's a bore..."
Sirius shook his head. "No, I mean we can't because the Dark Lord wouldn't want us to."
She scoffed. "Of course he would! He loved Rabastan!"
Sirius highly doubted that. The Dark Lord had been far more visibly upset about Lucius Malfoy possibly being Imperiused not-on-his-orders than he had at losing Rabastan the other night. He had looked more uncomfortable than saddened at the funeral today. "You were at the same meeting yesterday I was. The Dark Lord specifically said there was to be no public retaliation."
She looked down for a moment, then her gaze snapped back up. "What if they're muggles? He can't complain about them. That wouldn't count as public retaliation. That would just be... letting off steam."
Fighting against simultaneous urges to roll his eyes and gag, Sirius took her hand again. "Dear Bella, didn't you tell me once it was meaningless to go after random, ignorant, terrified muggles who can't fight back?"
She glared at him. "Well, yes, but come on, you can't think it's meaningless, that's been your whole job!"
Sirius nodded sagely. "And I do find my job meaningful, but not because I'm hurting and killing random muggles. The meaning is in furthering the cause and foiling the Ministry. You were right before, though. The fight and the death itself is only truly meaningful when you choose the target for a reason. Would Rabastan want meaningless deaths in offering?"
Bella's lip trembled. "Maybe?"
Sirius shook his head. "No, he wouldn't. He died for the Dark Lord. He would want us to follow our Lord's command, to the letter." Actually, Sirius figured the frequently drunk younger Lestrange brother probably cared less about his duties as a Death Eater and more about his kicks, but that was neither here nor there. Bella was a proper fanatic for (her version of) the cause, so his best hope of preventing her from going on a killing spree tonight was to get her to agree it was against the Dark Lord's wishes and plans. He could see her wavering, her sense of duty warring with the wildness of her constrained grief and anger. He tapped her shoulder. "Let's duel tonight. That way you can 'let off steam' without disobeying orders."
She smiled slightly. "Let's. Thank you, Siri. I do still have a lot to teach you about how not to get killed like my idiot brother-in-law."
Sirius grinned. "Careful, I'll get whiplash if you keep swinging your opinions of him so far and so fast."
She shrugged. "He was always an idiot, if a loveable one. It'll be awhile before I can forgive him for dying on me."
Sirius offered her his arm. "To the lawn?"
She linked their elbows and practically dragged him from the room. "To the lawn!"
Sirius regretted offering to duel Bella. She had been more aggressive than usual all week, but that was nothing compared to today. The duel started out normal enough, the two of them trading off curses and counter-curses, Bella occasionally shouting off advice for him to improve. The trouble came when he let a hex actually hit him. He had been in the middle of the annoyingly complex wandwork for the Gemino curse and didn't want to stop. He was aiming the Gemino at the grass Bella was standing on; he was curious to see if he could bury her in turf with it, and if so, how quickly.
Bella was not amused, following up her original hex with a powerful knock-back jinx that blew him off his feet despite his hasty Protego. "What were you thinking, Siri?" She yelled, kicking off her shoes in order to escape the little mound of grass encasing her ankles. "Do you want to get yourself killed? This isn't a game! You can't let yourself be hit! You have to dodge! What if that had been an Avada?"
Sirius opened his mouth to argue that obviously the bright pink spell wasn't a killing curse, then rolled to the left instead as she threw the Avada Kedavra right at him. He rolled up against a stone lion statue.
"No, you idiot! Don't get yourself pinned against something. Dodge better!" she screeched. She cast two more killing curses in rapid succession. Sirius twisted his wand towards the statue, and the now animated lion leapt to his defense just in time to catch both spells. Its head and foreleg broke off with the impact, and Sirius dove to the side again. Bella just kept casting and casting, though mercifully she switched from killing curses to non-lethal options. Sirius fought her off as best he could, but she was too fast for him to do more than defend.
Eventually, he failed to parry or dodge fast enough, and she hit him with a vicious bone-breaking curse. She wasn't holding back, and the field was wide, encompassing his whole left arm as well as his shoulder and multiple ribs on that side. He was lucky she didn't hit his spine. He bellowed in pain and raised a silent Protego, which Bella sliced through almost instantly. "Bella stop, I'm hurt," he protested.
"You have to be able to fight when you're hurt if you want to live!" She lobbed another curse, and he twisted away even as his broken ribs ground together. He couldn't breathe like this. He broke into a staggering run, hoping to buy himself time to heal or at least immobilize some of his shattered bones, but she clipped his trailing leg with another bone-break. He fell to the ground, whimpering in pain. "Expelliarmus!" His wand flew out of his hand. "This is pathetic, Siri. Why aren't you listening to me? Protect yourself! Dodge!"
"You've won, Bella," he gasped. She didn't listen, and he rolled away from yet another Avada. Merlin, she was so out of control she might actually kill him tonight. He had never been more afraid of his cousin, never even as afraid of Voldemort. He couldn't keep dodging either, squirming around on the ground like this. He focused his intent and started muttering, "Neneha'i Modessen. Neneha'i Modessen. Neneha'i Modessen..." I can never fall to their knives.
The shield chant successfully blocked Bella's next three curses, but still she wasn't satisfied and kept banishing his wand farther away from him. "The Ministry legalized Unforgivables, Siri. Shields can't save you! If you can't remember that, you'll die! Why can't you get it into your stupid head?! Work through the pain! Dodge! I'll show you. Imperio!"
Sirius fought off the Imperius curse faster than he ever had before. No way was he going to stop the shield chant, and no way was he going to try to stand up with his broken leg.
"I'm trying to help you, Siri! Crucio!"
Bella must have poured all her anger and pain into the torture curse, because he felt the psychic wound of her raw grief and fulfilled fears just as strongly as he felt the physical agony of the curse. That was a component Voldemort's curse completely lacked; leave it to Bella to somehow surpass one of the darkest wizards in history in the art of causing pain. He could still hear her yelling at him. "Yes, drop your stupid shield. Fight through the pain. Fight me! Come on!" But Sirius couldn't fight this. At the same time, Bella wouldn't stop, wouldn't let him concede, wouldn't let him lose. In her twisted mind, she cared about him and needed to make him able to survive her, because if he could survive her, he could survive anything.
As the pain went on, and on, and on, Sirius couldn't hear her anymore. Devoid of her constant demand, he decided quite suddenly that no, he didn't want to fight anymore. If he had to take this pain in order to merely stay alive, it wasn't worth it. So he didn't take it. He withdrew from it, locked his awareness of the torture, of Bella, of his body away like errant thoughts to hide from the Dark Lord.
Of course, the human brain doesn't actually function very well with half of it shut down, but that was a small price to pay to end the torment. Or so Sirius would have thought, had he been capable of consciousness.
Author's note: Surprise! And so we begin to move even farther away from canon. Updates will continue to be sporadic for a bit, depending on my schedule. Thanks as always for the reviews.