Chapter 17: The Skirmish
Sirius exited the shrubbery with the others, breathing the cold autumn air. They all stood there, wands drawn, bathed in the eerie green light of Bill and Charlie's disarming spell, waiting for… something to happen, but they were instead met with a pregnant silence. It felt like a trap, a pause before a storm. Sirius swallowed hard and gripped his wand tighter, every muscle coiled for action.
"Too quiet," muttered Kingsley, his voice low and tense. "Where the bloody hell is everyone?"
"Be silent," hissed Mad Eye from behind. They could not Lumos with their wands, so the only light came from two large lanterns at Rookwood's front door.
"Maybe they knew we were coming," Tonks suggested, her voice uncharacteristically subdued.
The other members were anxiously behind them, and Sirius could feel Remus' tall lanky presence close by.
"Let's tell them we are here then" grumbled Moody and with a large bang the front door of the manor fell open. Resounding through the noise of the large wooden door falling.
Aperio Maxima!
They fanned out, illuminating the dusty rooms with Lumos charms, searching for any sign of life, any hint of the artefacts Moody had spoken of. Nothing. Just cobwebs and shadows. It felt wrong, too easy. Where were they?
"Confringo!" A voice was suddenly heard and a series of explosions rocked the manor, shaking its foundations. Shouts and screams echoed from outside.
The distraction hadn't worked. It was as if the Death Eaters expected them.
Alastor Moody's voice boomed through the chaos. "They're trying to draw us out!"
"Let them," Sirius growled, a surge of adrenaline banishing the lingering unease. "We'll be waiting," he added, his eyes seeking Remus, who was near a large door that led downstairs, where the screams could come from.
And then it hit them. A wave of cold air and Augustus Rookwood materialised from the shadows, a sneer twisting his pale lips. But he wasn't alone. A few figures shuffled behind him, their movements stiff and jerky, their eyes vacant and lifeless. Three hooded Death Eaters made their way in, their wands ready to strike.
They were not alone, though. Inferi started entering from the windows, the doors all around the large hall. Bloody hell.
An array of hexes flew their way, and Sirius gripped his wand tighter, ducking to avoid the chaotic assault of curses and hexes, while everything around him was suddenly a blur: wands and bodies colliding, screaming, and curses filling his ears.
Rookwood was rounding Kingsley, as Sirius went after Moody and Hestia, who were warding off the Inferi.
"Well, well," Rookwood drawled. "Look what the cat dragged in. How's Albus Dumbledore these days, Kingsley, old colleague?" But Kingsley ignored him, his tall frame flying over a coffee table, avoiding a hex within an instant.
"Scatter and search!"Moody's voice thundered through the upcoming chaos.
"Giving up already, Moody? You're getting slow," shouted another Death Eater whose head was almost hit by a flying chair, thrown by one of his fellow Death Eaters at Moody, whose abrupt movements helped at that instance.
"Slow? I'll be slow roasting your backside if you don't get out of my way!" growled Moody, his wand moving in two swift motions, the remaining doors and windows of the large room all open in an instant.
Sirius bent his head to avoid another hex and ran toward one of the doors. The vaults, they needed to get to the vaults.
Rookwood's laughter was full of death and echoed through the large room, now fully lit by pieces of furniture burning. He raised his arm, a wiry serpent tattoo emblazoned on his forearm, and hissed a single word. "Morsmordre!"
They knew what that meant.
The air shimmered, and more figures materialized from thin air, their faces masked, their wands raised. Death Eaters. More of them poured in from every doorway, flanking them.
Still running for the doorway to the stairs, Sirius parried a curse aimed at Lupin. And then, just as the Death Eaters seemed to be gaining the upper hand, a wave of reinforcements crashed through the front doors. The rest of the Order, Arthur Weasley, Fred, George, Dedalus Diggle, and Sturgis Podmore entered the large hall, their wands blazing, and quickly surged into the fray.
"About time!" bellowed Hestia, her face flushed with exertion as she sent a stinging hex towards a masked Death Eater.
"We had to make it convincing, Diggle!" Tonks' voice, sharp and clear, cut through the chaos. She disarmed a Death Eater with a flick of her wand, sending him sprawling to the ground.
The clash of wands echoed everywhere, dominating the soundscape. Rookwood stood in the middle, defending his home, his face contorted with rage, fought like a man possessed, his spells vicious, relentless. It was not an easy task for Sirius to get to the staircase, and he kept looking for reinforcements, making his way through the crossfire and parrying each blow.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught another glimpse of Remus and Kingsley locked in a fierce duel with Dolohov, their wands flashing, their movements a blur of motion.
"Not tonight, werewolf!" shouted Dolohov, his familiar face showing through his fallen mask.
Moody was also formidable in their quest, as he quickly pressed his attack, forcing Rookwood back towards a large, ornate window. He stumbled, his concentration faltering for a moment, and Sirius seized the opportunity. A stunning spell, aimed true, caught Rookwood square in the chest. He gasped, his eyes wide with surprise, and then he was falling, tumbling backwards through the window, the heavy velvet curtains billowing around him like a shroud.
"Good one!" slurred Mad-Eye, his eyes looking in all directions.
But before Sirius could move on to the staircase, a cry of pain pierced the chaos. Hestia Jones, her face contorted in agony, clutched at her arm, a dark stain blooming on her robes. Tonks rushed to her side, raising her wand and firing a volley of spells at the Death Eater who had struck Hestia.
"We're surrounded!" Arthur Weasley's voice strained with exertion, rang out above the din. More Death Eaters, their faces masked, their wands raised, poured into the room, flanking us, cutting off our escape.
"Jugson!" one of the newcomers barked, his voice harsh and gravelly. "Take the north wing! Don't let anyone escape!"
"For the Order!" someone roared, but Sirius thought this was their best chance to descend downstairs to the vaults. If Voldemort was hiding something precious at Rookwood's it had to be guarded. "Kingsley, with me!" Sirius shouted, his voice barely audible above the roar of spells and the clash of wands.
They descended the narrow stairs frantically, as the first spells flew toward them, a blinding array of jinxes and curses that illuminated the room in a kaleidoscope of colours. Sirius kept ducking, his wand a blur of motion, deflecting hexes, returning fire with a vengeance. A Stunning Spell whizzed past his ear, narrowly missing its mark, but then Kingsley immediately retaliated and soon they were only hearing a shriek of surprise and a loud thud, as some Death Eater must have fallen down the stairs.
"They're falling back! Don't let them escape!" Tonks' voice rang out, she was also descending downward into the bowels of the house with Charlie Weasley, exploring the array of rooms.
"Hold the line!" they could still hear Moody from upstairs, his voice booming above the din.
When they finally arrived at the vaults, they burst through the door, the sounds of battle fading behind us as Sirius and Kingsley were plunged into the darkness.
The heavy oak door leading to the vault stood before them, its surface etched with arcane symbols that pulsed when approached. Sirius, his wand gripped tight, stepped forward, his face a mask of tense determination. "Let's get this over with," he growled, jabbing his wand at the door. "Alohomora!"
Nothing. The door remained stubbornly shut.
Kingsley, his tall frame radiating quiet strength, moved beside Sirius, his voice steady despite the adrenaline thrumming through his veins. "Perhaps a more forceful approach?" he suggested, raising his wand, its tip glowing with a warm, golden light. "Aperio!"
The door shuddered, a low groan echoing through the vault, but it refused to budge.
Sirius, his irritation spiking, tried a barrage of unlocking spells, his frustration growing with each failed attempt. "Damn it!" he swore, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his grey eyes blazing with impatience. "There has to be a bloody way to open this blasted thing!"
Kingsley, ever patient, tried a different tack, murmuring incantations in ancient runes, his wand tracing intricate patterns in the air. But the door remained impervious to their efforts, the arcane symbols pulsing with a mocking defiance.
Sirius snapped his voice tight with tension and a rush of adrenaline. He pressed his ear against the door, listening intently, his senses on high alert. "I can't hear a damn thing! We need more light, Kingsley, now!"
Kingsley raised his wand high, his voice resonating with power as he uttered a single word: "Lumos Maxima!"
A blinding white light erupted from the tip of his wand, bathing the vault in an almost painful radiance. The arcane symbols on the door flared brightly.
It was a large Gringotts-like vault with a series of artefacts and stacks of gold. The vault was a treasure trove, overflowing with ancient artefacts, glittering jewels, and mountains of gold Galleons. Sirius, his initial excitement fading into frustration, stared at the sheer volume of objects with a grimace. "There's enough stuff here to bury a giant!" he exclaimed, kicking aside a pile of gold coins that clinked and scattered across the floor. "How are we supposed to find anything in this mess?"
"Quiet, Padfoot, and start looking," Kingsley commanded, his voice firm but calm. He raised his wand, its tip glowing with a silvery light. "Specialis Revelio." A wave of shimmering energy washed over the vault, causing several objects to hum and vibrate, their magical auras exposed. "This will help us identify any dark artefacts."
Sirius's mind pounded with a mixture of urgency and dread. He shoved aside stacks of things, his grey eyes scanning everything with a desperate intensity. His focus was solely on finding the Horcrux, a task that felt like searching for a single grain of sand in a vast desert.
"What are we even looking for?" he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. How was he supposed to know what a Horcrux looked like? The image of Voldemort, his snake-like face contorted in rage, flashed through his mind, fueling his sense of urgency.
"Well, well, well. Look what the nargles dragged in," a cold chilling voice sliced through the silence and echoing noises of the vault.
Sirius whirled around, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand, his grey eyes scanning the shadows for the source of the voice. Kingsley also reacted instantly, his wand snapping up, a bright bolt of white light shooting from its tip, illuminating a shadowy figure perched atop a towering stack of ancient tomes.
The woman was tall and slender, clad in flowing black robes, her face obscured by a hood. But Sirius would recognize her everywhere.
"Bellatrix," Sirius growled, his voice laced with venom. He recognized that voice, that mocking tone, anywhere. His grip tightened on his wand, his knuckles turning white. "What brings you to this little party?"
Bellatrix let out a low, throaty chuckle that echoed through the vault, sending shivers down their spines. "Why, I couldn't resist the opportunity to see my dear cousin again," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She did not make a move toward them, but Sirius and Kingsley were prepared for this standoff.
"Come to die, cousin?" she said and let out a shriek that barely resembled human laughter.
"Don't flatter yourself." Sirius leaned against a nearby pillar, his wand held casually, a mocking glint in his eye. He looked at Bella with the same familial arrogance. "You always were a bit slow on the uptake, weren't you? Took you long enough to find me in the first place," he taunted her.
"Sirius–" warned Kingsley, noticing the distraction, the rash decision his fellow order mate was about to engage in. Sirius ignored him and kept looking at Bella with disdain.
Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of rage. "You think you're so clever, Sirius Black," she hissed, taking a step closer. "But you're just a pathetic, washed-up has-been. A traitor to your blood, a disgrace."
"Funny, I was just thinking the same about you," he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain.
Kingsley shifted uneasily beside me, his wand raised, his expression wary.
"Sirius, let's not. We have a task!" He reprimanded his friend, but Sirius ignored him again, his attention focused solely on Bellatrix.
He let out a harsh laugh, his grey eyes burning with contempt. "You've lowered yourself, haven't you? Grovelling at the feet of a half-blood bastard? The Blacks must be turning in their graves."
Bellatrix, her skeletal hand tightening around her wand, hissed, "You dare insult the Dark Lord, you pathetic traitor?"
"Oh, I'm terrified," Sirius drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But tell me, Bella, is it blind loyalty that keeps you tethered to him, or something a bit more... personal?" His gaze raked over her, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "I've always wondered what draws a woman like you to a creature like him. Perhaps he's more charming than he appears... at least to a certain type of witch."
Bellatrix's face contorted with rage, her eyes blazing with fury. "You disgusting, filthy blood traitor!" she shrieked, her voice echoing through the vault. "You know nothing of the Dark Lord's power!" she roared.
"Funny," Sirius shot back, his voice cold and sharp as a blade. "I seem to recall him running away with his tail between his legs the last time we met. And you, Bella, were right there with him, clinging to him like a lovesick puppy."
Kingsley, sensing the situation spiralling out of control, stepped between them, his voice a low growl. "Enough! We're not here to play childish games,
"Crucio!", a jet of blinding red light shot from her wand, aimed not at Kingsley, but at Sirius. Kingsley reacted instantly, but Bellatrix was quicker. She had anticipated his intervention, her hatred for Sirius burning hotter than ever.
Sirius, caught off guard by her sudden attack, barely had time to raise his wand before the curse slammed into him. A strangled cry escaped his lips as the full force of the Cruciatus Curse ripped through him. His body arched back, his limbs contorting as waves of unimaginable pain flooded his senses. He crashed to the ground, his wand clattering away, his face twisted in a mask of agony.
"Sirius!" Kingsley roared. He launched himself at Bellatrix, his wand spitting sparks, determined to prevent her from inflicting further pain. Bellatrix, her eyes gleaming with a manic triumph, ducked the attack. But before she could unleash the same curse at Kingsley, a blur of motion cut through the tension. Kingsley, with a speed and precision that belied his imposing frame, flicked his wand in a swift, elegant movement. A disarming spell, perfectly aimed, struck Bellatrix's wand, sending it flying across the vault.
The effect was instantaneous. Her eyes, wide and wild, darted around the room, searching for her wand, for a way to regain control.
"You dare?!" she screamed, her voice raw with fury. "You dare interfere?!"
Kingsley, his face grim, his wand still raised stood between Sirius and Bellatrix.
"Stand down, Bellatrix," he commanded, his voice calm but firm. "It's over."
"Over?!" She spat the word like a curse. She lunged for Kingsley again, her fingers clawing at his face, her movements wild and uncoordinated. But Kingsley, with a practised ease, sidestepped her attack, his wand never wavering.
Sirius gritted his teeth, forcing his eyes open. He had to get up. Had to help Kingsley. His trembling fingers scrabbled across the floor, searching. His wand. He grasped it, the familiar wood a comfort in his hand.
Pushing himself up, ignoring the dizzying wave that washed over him, he staggered to his feet. Through blurred vision, he saw Kingsley locked in a deadly dance with Bellatrix, spells flashing and clashing like lightning. He raised his wand, his arm shaking with the effort. He wouldn't let her escape. Not while he still drew breath.
"Stupefy!" he roared, pouring all his remaining strength into the curse.
Sirius's Stunning Spell hit Bellatrix square in the chest. Her eyes widened in surprise, her laughter cut short as she was flung backwards, crashing into a large table laden with ancient artefacts. The table splintered under her weight, sending a shower of broken wood and glittering treasures flying through the air. Bellatrix lay sprawled amidst the wreckage, blood trickling from a gash on her forehead, her wand clattering away across the stone floor.
"That's for the Cruciatus, you mad cow," Sirius snarled, his voice hoarse with exertion and lingering pain. He staggered toward her, his wand still raised, ready to deliver another blow if needed, but she was out of it for good. "Come on, we need to keep looking–"
But Kingsley wasn't moving. He stood frozen, his eyes fixed on a point beyond Sirius, his face pale with alarm. "Smoke," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the ringing in Sirius's ears. "Fire. Upstairs."
Sirius whirled around, his heart plummeting to his stomach. Acrid smoke was billowing down the staircase, thick and black, obscuring the upper levels of the manor in a choking haze. The smell of burning wood filled the air, sharp and pungent. The fire, whatever its source, was spreading rapidly.
"Fuck!" yelled Sirius, looking frantically
"The house is on fire! We have to go!"
But Sirius was transfixed. They had failed. Bellatrix had distracted them and they found nothing at Rookwood's vaults.
"Sirius!" Kingsley's voice was closer now, his hand gripping his arm, pulling him away from the alluring door. "We have to go! Now!"
"Let me go!" Sirius snarled, wrenching his arm free. "We have to see what's in there!"
"You're insane!" Kingsley roared, his face a mask of disbelief. "The house is burning down around us!"
"We can't leave!" Sirius shouted, his voice tight with urgency. "Not until we find something!" He turned back towards the wreckage of the table, his eyes frantically searching for any sign of the cursed object.
"Sirius, damn it, listen to me!" Kingsley grabbed Sirius's arm, his grip like iron, and spun him around. His face was grim, his voice laced with a rare anger. "The entire manor is going up in flames! We have to get out, now! That's an order!"
Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but Kingsley cut him off. "There's no time! We can't Apparate out – the manor's charmed. We have to run! NOW"
He dragged Sirius towards the smoke-filled staircase, their eyes stinging from the acrid fumes. They scrambled up the steps, coughing and choking, their lungs burning with each breath. The heat was intense, the air thick with the smell of burning wood and crackling flames.
They burst onto the upper level, engulfed in a swirling cloud of smoke. Visibility was almost nonexistent, the air thick and suffocating. They stumbled forward, their hands outstretched, feeling their way through the inferno.
"Kingsley! Sirius!" Charlie Weasley's voice, hoarse and strained, called out from behind them. He emerged from the smoke, his face blackened with soot, his clothes singed. "We searched the upper floors and found nothing. No sign of any artefacts."
He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in alarm. A piercing scream, filled with terror and pain, cut through the roar of the flames.
"Remus!" Tonks' voice, high-pitched with panic, cut through the din. She was kneeling beside Lupin, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror. The Weasley twins, their faces grim, were holding Lupin down, his body wracked with tremors, his face contorted in agony. A gaping wound, raw and bloody, marred his chest.
"Silver," gasped Bill, his voice tight with urgency. "He's been hit with a silver chain. We need to get him out, quickly!"
"We have to get him out of here!" Moody roared, his voice barely audible above the roar of the flames. "It's not safe! Get him back to headquarters, now!"
Sirius surged forward, his heart pounding against his ribs, Kingsley and Charlie close behind. He knelt beside Remus, his hands hovering over his wounds, his mind racing. He had to get her out of there, get them all out. "Moony" he barked, his voice commanding. "Moony, come on! Let's get you out of here!"
Arthur Weasley, his face drawn and haggard, appeared at Sirius's side, his wand already drawn. Bill Weasley, his face grim, followed close behind. Together, they carefully lifted Remus, his limp body cradled between them.
"We need to get out of here," Kingsley said, his voice urgent. "The fire's spreading too quickly."
As they made their way back through the smoke-filled corridor, the rest of the Order rallied around them, their wands blazing. A protective circle formed, and shields and barriers were erected against the heat and flames. Moody barked orders, his voice gruff but reassuring. "Keep moving! We're almost there! Just a little further!"
They emerged from the inferno into the cool night air, gasping for breath, their lungs aching. Tonks cradled Hestia Jones, whispering soothing words against her ear.
"Apparate!" Kingsley commanded, his voice ringing out over the crackling flames of the burning manor.
"Go! Go! Go!" Moody bellowed, ushering them towards the front door. "We'll hold them off! Just get out of here!"
The atmosphere at Grimmauld Place was thick with tension. Emma sat in a small chair next to the fireplace, waiting for the others to return from the mission. It was the first mission and she was waiting, staying behind, ready to patch up anyone who returned injured. She would be lying to herself if it did not scare her.
Across the room, Eulalia Shacklebolt stood next to Molly Weasley. "Don't you worry, Molly," Eulalia said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "They'll be back before you know it. Those Weasley boys are tough as nails. Hard to keep down."
Molly, who looked pale, gave a watery sniff. "I know, I know," she replied, her voice shaky. "It's just... every time they go out, I worry it'll be the last."
Fleur Delacour, Bill's French fiancée, sat beside Emma. She glanced over at Molly, her delicate nose wrinkling slightly, and muttered something under her breath in French.
Emma bit back a smile.
The sudden whoosh of the Floo network shattered the silence. Emma flew from her chair, along with Fleur following her shortly, looking expectantly at the fireplace.
Order members, battered and smoke-stained, stumbled out of the fireplace in twos and threes.
"Make way! Remus is hurt!" cried Tonks, who was covered in ash.
Emma searched for the room, to identify where Lupin was and what had happened, grabbing her magical healing bag, and heading toward the group that had just entered. It was very hard to miss.
Sirius Black and Bill Weasley carried Remus between them, his limp body a dead weight in their arms. "Help! He needs help!" Sirius roared, looking at Emma urgently.
On the other side of the room, Eula rushed to Hestia's side, her eyes widening as she saw the raw, festering gash on Hestia's arm. Hestia gasped, her voice weak. "It's bad, Eula, it's bad."
Emma hovered above Remus, her hands outstretched, trying to assess the situation. "What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling. "What's wrong?"
Bill lowered Remus gently onto a nearby sofa, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Silver curse," he said, his voice hoarse. "We got the chain off him, but he got burned."
Emma knelt beside Remus, her fingers hovering over the wound, her brow furrowed in confusion. A silver chain? Could it be cursed with something, she thought frantically. She muttered a diagnostic spell, her eyes scanning his ravaged form.
"What's happening?" cried Molly, her voice near. "Remus, is it—is it changing him?" she panicked, but Sirius motioned her to be quiet.
He instead grabbed Emma's arm. "It's a silver wound, you have to give him the antidote. NOW!" He urged her.
In her panicked state and being unable to process the information around her, Emma's quick hands removed Lupin's shirt to see more clearly what they were dealing with.
Then, with a sharp intake of breath, she staggered back, her face drained of all colour. "Oh, Merlin," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Remus's scream ripped through the tense atmosphere, a raw, animalistic howl. He thrashed against the sofa, the shape of a heavy silver chain biting into his flesh.
Emma stared at the wound, her mind reeling. The flesh around the wound rippled, the muscles beneath spasmed, and the bones shifted and reformed. Only in one case, simple silver could cause this pain, this agony–and then it dawned on her.
Black's panic and Molly's cry from before: "Is it changing him?"
Lupin was a werewolf.
Emma was frozen. She recoiled involuntarily, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a scream. The scars, his private demeanour, his illnesses as a schoolboy, when he was friends with Peter. It all made sense now.
She tried to snap out of it but was unable to move and Remus Lupin was writhing in pain before her, people around her looking stunned, shouting incomprehensible instructions at her.
One's anger was stronger than the others.
"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you, woman?!" Sirius roared. His grey eyes were blazing, as he gestured sharply towards Lupin. He saw the look on Emma's face, the shock, the fear, and misinterpreted it as disgust. "Move, treat him, are you deaf?!" he shouted at her roughly.
Emma blinked, the harshness of Sirius's words cutting through the fog of her mind. She needed to act and act fast.
"Hold him steady!" she snapped, her voice regaining its stability. With a muttered summoning charm, her medical kit flew to her side. She worked swiftly, her hands sure and precise, her brow furrowed in concentration as she assessed the wound. It was deep, the silver burning like acid.
She worked quickly, applying a soothing balm, her fingers gentle despite the urgency of the situation. Then, with a flick of her wand, she conjured bandages, wrapping them securely around the wound. Finally, she uncorked a small vial, holding it to Remus's lips.
"Drink this, Remus," she said, her voice firm but kind. Remus, his breathing still ragged, his body trembling with the receding wave of pain, swallowed the potion. The tension in his muscles eased, and the tremors subsided.
But as she met his gaze, she couldn't help but notice the flicker of fear in his eyes, the unspoken question that hung heavy in the air. Would she still be able to look at him the same way, knowing his secret now, knowing what lurked beneath the surface?
Her heart sank rapidly, as Remus Lupin fell into unconsciousness before her, exhausted from the pain.