Chapter 14: Finite

For Harry, the night had crept by with agonising slowness. Every slight noise, every creak of the house, or the echo of footsteps in the courtyard outside seemed to ring like thunder in the air. Fenrir had apparently not thought it important to check back in on the teen and had, thankfully, left Harry by himself. Not that that made the situation any better.

The horrible aching in his scar and the noticeable lack of magic around him had kept Harry's nerves on edge. The last time had felt this vulnerable was several years ago after he made his first kill. He had sworn to himself that he would never allow himself to experience the same feeling ever again, and yet here he was in the same situation as before.

Even without Fenrir's absence in the room, Harry found it nearly impossible to relax. The thought of being awoken by the repulsive feeling of the werewolf's tongue on his forehead made sleep evade him. Every time his eyes would drift shut, a noise would cause them to spring right back open again. It was a never-ending cycle of misery.

Harry groaned as the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the black forest that stood behind the manor walls. Had that much time already passed? He didn't even know what day it was that had just begun. All he knew was that he wanted to sleep…he needed to sleep.

Fuck you, Fenrir, Harry thought angrily, forcing his eyes closed again, fuck you. This is all your fault.

Part of the young wizard had begun to wonder if this was, in fact, all part of the werewolf's plan to torment him. The Death Eater had never liked him and if the dark lord had truly left Fenrir in charge, then he was certainly taking the opportunity to torture Harry. However, the teen couldn't think of any situation where his father would have decided that this was in his best interest. There was no conceivable world in which the Dark Lord would leave his son in the care of a psychotic werewolf.

For hours, Harry had been running through all of the things he would say to his father when he saw the man next. His fingers twitched with the thoughts of the spells he would use to punish the stupid Death Eater. He would make the man scream. He would make the man fear him. And then…he would kill the fucking half-breed.

Harry let out a frustrated groan before rolling over to glare out of his window, furious that he could call not his father to him. He desperately wished that his magic would heal itself faster so he could alert the Dark Lord of his current situation. But until the time that his magic was whole again, the Dark Mark on his forearm was effectively useless to him. He could be called by his father, but he could not use it in any helpful way.

As the hours began to drift past and the sun's rays grew stronger and brighter, Harry began to wonder if he had actually been wrong. What if the Dark Lord knew exactly what Fenrir had done to him and just didn't care to come and check on him? It simply didn't make sense why his father would choose to stay away from him for so long, not when he was in his current state. He couldn't remember exactly what had happened toward the end of the raid or what he had said to this father upon his return, but he was starting to worry that he had done something extremely wrong. What if Fenrir had been part of his punishment all along?

Father's probably trying to clean up another one of your messes, a voice in the back of his hissed, You just can't stop making mistakes, can you? He probably doesn't even care what happens to you now because you're just one big liability. Always fucking things up. He probably wants to see you suffer.

Harry groaned and rolled so he was no longer looking outside. On days like this, his life felt like some kind of living hell. And it was probably all his fault…somehow, someway, he had managed to fuck it all up again.

After several minutes, Harry began to notice that the usual hustle and bustle around the manor had seemed to vanish. A deep stillness had started to settle over the entire grounds, leaving a loud ringing sound in Harry's ears at its absence.

Maybe this means that Fenrir has left the manor and I can finally find some rest. Harry tried to convince himself as he closed his eyes with a deep sigh.

Already, he could feel exhaustion rising from his very bones. He just needed to sleep and when he awoke he would be able to figure everything out. He would be able to figure out what he had done wrong and how he could fix it.

With this last thought, Harry felt a comforting darkness start to drift over his mind. But before sleep had a chance to fully set in, a sudden biting pain cut across Harry's forearm, the likes of which he had never felt before in his entire life. The teen's eyes flung open as any remnants of rest were driven from his mind.

What the hell?

Gritting his teeth against the sharp burning sensation, Harry struggled to sit before yanking up the sleeve of his sleeping shirt. What he saw took his breath away. The snake tattoo looked like it was writhing under his skin. Its scales seemed to ripple as it felt like it was squeezing tighter and tighter around the muscles and tendons in Harry's forearm and wrist.

Shit, the young wizard thought, What the fuck does this mean?

He had been given the dark mark only a couple of years ago and it had never, in all of that time, hurt in such a manner. At one point, he had overheard a conversation between several senior Death Eaters about how the Dark Mark could be used as a way to summon or even punish his father's followers. Maybe this was one of those occasions…but which one, Harry didn't know.

He's trying to punish you again, the voice hissed in the back of the teen's mind, He wants to see if you can take pain like a man or if you'll start blubbering and crying like a baby. He's testing you.

But there was something about the way that the mark was moving and writhing that made the teen doubt that this was the case. His father knew that the best way to discipline his son was through pain directed through his scar. A punishment like this just didn't make any sense. It wasn't anywhere near as strong enough for it to cause sufficient pain.

He has to be calling his death eaters for something, Harry decided as the mark continued to burn fiercely, but then why is he also trying to call me?

The teen stared transfixed at the black mark for several moments, until he decided what he needed to do next. He felt certain that this was some kind of test of his loyalty and that his father wanted to see if he would come when called…no matter his physical condition. He was, after all, a Death Eater and a servant to the Dark Lord, and he didn't want to make the man more angry with him than he already was.

He would just have to hope that Fenrir was not among those called. He wasn't sure that he could deal with seeing the slimy git at that exact moment. In fact, the next time he wanted to see the werewolf was when he killed the man.

Harry managed to crawl his way over to the edge of his bed, the muscles throughout his body protesting loudly. He tried to ignore the shock that ran through his body as his bare feet touched the ice-cold floor. He didn't have time to be weak. He had somewhere to be. The mark on the teen's forearm continued to burn and throb as Harry made his way over to his washroom. He was surprised to see that a clean set of clothes had already been laid out for him.

House elves, he figured as he began to dress himself.

This process took much longer than usual and left Harry more frustrated than ever. If he had access to his magic then he would have just been able to spell the clothes directly onto his body, not painstakingly having to put them on one at a time, like some retarded muggle.

With a clean set of clothes finally on, Harry turned his attention to the next part of the process. He needed to find his cloak and mask.

These two items had been missing from the pile of clothing that the elves had prepared for him. He wasn't sure if that meant that they had been destroyed somehow in the battle with the aurors or if the house elves had confiscated them for some reason. Either way, time was ticking by quickly and every second that passed made the burn in his arm grow greater and greater.

"Stupid, fucking house elves," Harry growled as he made his way out of the adjoining washroom, still fighting to get his boots on correctly, "Can't even do one single thing right."

But as Harry stumbled back into his bedroom, he came to a sudden stop. There, laid out on the chair next to his bed, were his death eater robes and mask. Atop the smooth, black fabric lay a familiar item. His beloved wand.

Harry dove forward and grabbed the eleven-inch holly stick. As his fingers closed around the smooth wood, he instantly felt a rush of relief fill him. He hadn't noticed before how much the absence of his wand had been affecting him.

I wonder how they got here…

A brief mental image of Fenrir bringing them into his room flashed across the teen's mind, but Harry quickly shook his head and pocketed the wand. It didn't matter who had brought it in. It just mattered that he had them now. His father needed him, that was what he needed to focus on.

The young wizard grabbed the cloak and mask and made for the door to his room, painfully aware that he would not be able to apparate in his current state. The fireplace in his room was also not connected to the floo network of the manor so he would just have to find the dark lord using the muggle method.

Harry had just wrapped his fingers around the door handle when a soft pop behind him made him freeze. The boy spun around and glared at the tiny house elf who stood in the centre of the room. The creature instantly dropped into a low bow, stuttering,

"M-m-master said that y-y-you are n-not to l-leave your ch-chambers."

"What?"

The elf looked petrified from its position on the floor and it once more repeated,

"M-master said that you can't l-leave the m-manor in your c-condition. Y-you have to s-stay h-h-here. In y-your room a-a-and rest."

Harry felt his anger instantly ignite. So his father had banished him to his chambers? Was that also part of his punishment?

"You lie," the teen spat at the creature and turned back to the door.

He wasn't going to stay imprisoned in any room, no matter what his father had said. He wasn't a prisoner that the dark lord could keep locked up. Harry's hand closed around the handle and moved to open it.

The door didn't budge. It was locked. Tight.

"Shit."

Without his magic, a locked door suddenly appeared to be an insurmountable obstacle. Harry kicked the wooden door with all his strength. Pain blossomed in his toes as the lock remained secure. The teen whirled around to demand that the house elf let him out, but the creature had already vanished. And without his magic, Harry could even call the being back.

Harry was alone, locked in his room like a misbehaving child.

The snake on Harry's forearm gave one last shudder before it fell still. Whatever the Dark Lord had been planning had clearly just started without him.

The giant red door of the building across from him was starting to piss Sirius off. He had been stationed toward the edges of the town alongside one of the many small side roads. Hill Street it was called, or some other lame-sounding name. Frankly, he thought that the muggle system for naming things was rather stupid…almost as stupid as the bright red colouring of the building across from him. The words 'FIRE STATION' were written out in obnoxiously large, black print above the offending door, but this meant nothing to the auror. Why muggles would try to store fire in a building was beyond him.

"Probably should've paid more attention in Muggle Studies," Sirius grumbled, fidgeting with his cloak.

He made a mental note to ask Lily about the exact function of a 'FIRE STATION' when he saw her and the twins later that day.

The low growling sound of a muggle automobile suddenly caught Sirius's attention. He glanced up the narrow street and saw a rusty-looking blue car making its way slowly toward him. The auror's fingers tightened around his wand. Finally, there was some movement in this unbelievably boring town.

From his current location tucked in next to the side of a brick house, Sirius watched closely as the car rattled down the uneven pavement. Part of Sirius desperately wished that the muggle would spot him so he would have an excuse to use magic, but this hope was dashed when the old man in the diver's seat didn't even look over at him. After only another minute, the vehicle had already disappeared around the far bend of the road, leaving Sirius in silence once more.

The auror sighed deeply and glanced down at the portkey at his hip. He almost wished that the small metal device…almost. The silence of his current location was driving him crazy. If something interesting didn't start happening soo-

Sirius's thought was cut off by a loud explosion from somewhere close by. The auror looked down the quiet street towards the centre of the village and saw a large plum of black smoke starting to pollute the blue sky. The auror's mouth opened in shock at the sight. He didn't even register the muggles who had just run out of their houses to see what was happening. A second later another, larger, explosion shook the earth…and then the screaming began.

Sirius was forced back into reality by the sound of people yelling nearby. This cacophony of noise was accompanied by a familiar high-pitched screech. Sirius's eyes widened as the metal portkey on his hip started to vibrate frantically, turning an ugly shade of red. A colour not unlike the red of the FIRE STATION door, he thought numbly. The device screeched again and this time Sirius sprung into action.

The auror looked around, noticing the large group of muggles who had come out of their houses. He also saw the ugly red doors to the FIRE STATION start to open, revealing a large, equally ugly vehicle inside.

Shit.

With several quick charms, Sirius sent the muggle neighbours back into their brick houses, with confused looks on their faces. Another second later, the FIRE STATION was full of equally befuddled men. Sirius paused as he checked the street one last time for any stray muggles who could get in the way of what, he was sure, was about to happen.

Satisfied with his work, the auror reached down and activated the portkey on his hip. The quiet street and the hideous red door quickly faded into a swirl of colours as Sirius was pulled away toward the location of the alarm.

A split second later, the auror found himself standing in a scene of absolute chaos. The portkey had brought him to the corner of what used to be the main street of the village. He recognised the location from their briefing the night before and immediately his face went pale. This was close to the library…James was supposed to be stationed here.

Sirius ducked as a red stunner spell flew over his head, missing him by mere inches. He cursed as he looked ahead into the swirling clouds of smoke and dust to see black robes.

The Death Eaters had finally arrived.

Two things immediately became crystal clear in Sirius's mind. He needed to make sure the children were safe and he needed to find James.

There was a series of cracks off to his right as the last few aurors began to arrive. At least, Sirius hoped that they were the rest of the aurors. He was too busy trying to deflect the slew of curses that had been thrown at him to look over and check.

The air seemed to now be full of spells being thrown from both sides. There were loud cracks as defensive shields were hit by particularly strong curses, accompanied by bright flashes as the magic fizzled out. Sirius could now begin to make out the mass of death eaters that stood on the destroyed street in front of him. Rocks and flaming bits of debris lay all around, no doubt a result of the explosions. But what caught Sirius's attention was the tall, pale figure who stood at the back of the swarming mass of black.

Fuck. This is not good.

"Black!" the loud voice came from right beside him, starting the auror, "Get your head out of your arse and get out of here!"

Sirius glanced over at Dawlish who stood beside him, face already covered in sweat and dirt.

"What?"

"I said get out of here!" the head-auror paused to block an incoming curse, "You, Tonks, and Weasley are supposed to make sure the kids have all activated their portkeys and are safe. Don't you remember anything from our briefing?! What the fuck are you waiting for? A personal escort from You-know-who?"

The mention of the dark wizard caused Sirius to stiffen. Right. He had almost forgotten what his assigned task was. Sirius gave a quick nod to Dawlish before he darted away, dodging spells and dueling aurors as he went. He needed to find Bill and Tonks. That was the first thing he needed to do.

Almost instantly, he spotted Bill's red hair in a nearby alleyway. The man was engaged in a fierce duel with a particularly large death eater.

Shit.

Sirius jumped out of the way of an incoming killing curse before he apparated directly to Bill's location…but nothing happened.

Fucking hell, Sirius thought, Anti-apparation wards.

The auror quickly steadied himself before resuming his desperate dash to the alleyway.

Only he never made it.

An explosion rocked the ground directly to his left, knocking Sirius off of his feet. The auror landed face-first in a pile of rubble with a loud groan. He was never going to make it to Bill at this rate, let alone get to the Apothecary where the Hogwarts students should've been. Not with the anti-apparation wards in place, at least.

With a frustrated yell, Sirius pushed himself back up to his feet and began to fire a torrent of violent spells at the death eaters who were quickly advancing on him. No mask-wearing bastards were going to get in the way of him finding his godson. As a diffindo thundered out of Sirius's wand, a movement at the corner of the street behind the Death Eaters caught his attention.

Two masked men were standing over a figure who lay next to a demolished muggle car. Sirius recognised the distinctive colour of the robes. It was an auror. He watched in disgust and anger as the two Death Eaters kicked the downed man in the chest before casting a red spell on their victim. Even in the din of battle, Sirius could hear the scream that was ripped from the poor auror's mouth. It sounded vaguely familiar…

Fuck…James.

Sirius ignored Dawlish's frantic calls and took off running toward his friend's fallen body.

James never had a chance.

The instant the alarm at his hip had been activated, the cracks of portkeys rang through the air. For a second, James thought it was his fellow aurors, coming to see what had happened, but when he dragged his eyes open he found himself looking at a sea of black cloaks and hideous white masks.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

James scrambled to his knees and looked around frantically trying to find his wand in the rubble that surrounded him. He caught sight of the pale piece of wood, but before he could make a grab for it, a spell hit him in the chest and knocked him to the ground. Pain overwhelmed the auror's senses for a moment as he landed hard on his already bruised back. Everything went a sickly shade of grey as he tried to come to terms with what had just happened. His back and chest were throbbing like one large, open wound and his head was spinning.

The auror lay still on the ground, trying desperately to think of what to do next. He was alone, without his wand, and cut off from his fellow aurors. James was hoping beyond hope that the death eaters would forget about him or think that he was already dead. If they would leave him alone, then he would be able to get to his wand and…

"Hurt like a bitch, didn't it," a voice hissed in James's ear, causing the auror to flinch away instinctively, "But don't worry. There's more where that came from."

"Get away from me, Lestrange," James growled as he found himself looking up into the face of the infamous Death Eater, "If you even dare-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the man delivering a harsh kick to James's stomach. All of the air was forced out of the auror's lungs by the blow.

"If I dare do what, Potter? Your ministry friends are too far away to be able to save you this time and without a wand…well…"

James was still gasping for air, but he managed to glare at Rabastan.

"Now, now, now, we can't have any of that. Especially not when you are in the presence of such a great wizard."

James snorted and ground out, "You're no great wizard."

Rabastan just grinned down at him.

"I wasn't referring to myself."

James just stared, confused at the death eater. He wasn't sure what the man meant by this. As far as he was aware, the only wizard Rabastan had considered to be a great wizard was…shit…surely that didn't mean that…images of You-know-who torturing Harry's little body instantly sprang into James's mind.

He felt his blood run cold. He needed to make sure that William was safe. He needed to get to the apothecary.

James began to try and struggle to his feet, fear and adrenaline burning in his veins. He didn't make it very far when a hulking figure came up beside Rabastan. A swift kick from a pair of thick boots put an end to James's attempts to stand. The auror fell back to the ground with a groan. A second kick to his stomach made pain tear up through his abdomen, turning his vision white.

But this feeling only lasted for a moment.

He didn't even have a chance to regain his vision before his entire world erupted into fire and all-consuming pain. Agony ripped through his veins pulling a piercing scream from James's dry throat. It was pain worse than he had ever felt in his entire life. It was too much…too great…

And in that instant, James Potter accepted that he was about to die, and for the first time in his life, he actually hoped that he would.

James was too lost in his pain-filled mind to even fully register when the spell was lifted. His mind was still wrapped in a swirling fog of misery and agony. His very bones seemed to be on fire still.

It wasn't until a cool hand was placed on his hot face that James finally realised that the spell had ended.

"James! James! Can you hear me?"

With a huge amount of effort, the auror pried his eyelids open. What he saw made him want to weep with relief.

"Padfoot," he croaked out, "You…have to…Will."

"I know," his friend's face seemed to waver and flicker as his body continued to shudder with the after-effects of the curse, "I'm confident he's gotten out with the others. Bill and Tonks will make sure of it, but right now I need to get you out of here before more of them come."

James tore his gaze from Sirius's face and turned his head to look around. He was still lying by the car. Broken glass and bits of rock littered the street all around him and for the first time, he could see the battle that was taking place on the once peaceful road. The group of ministry aurors were huddled into a tight group, at the far end of the road. They were fighting to hold back an enormous wave of death eaters who continued to put them further and further back toward the edges of the town. Flashes of spells were flying all around. James allowed his friend to help him sit up before he lifted a shaking hand and ran it through his hair muttering,

"Fuck, Sirius. This is bad."

"I know," his friend's gentle voice responded, "Do you think you can stand? We have to move before anyone notices us."

Sirius positioned himself behind James and helped guide him to his feet. Somehow found himself standing on shaky legs only a minute later. His gaze was immediately drawn to the two bodies of the two Death Eaters, lying unconscious in the rubble next to him.

"H-how did yo-" James started, but was cut off.

"It's not important right now," Sirius said quickly, "Here, take your wand in case someone sees us."

A familiar smooth handle was shoved into his hand. James looked down to see his trusty wand, dirty, but surprisingly unharmed. He had never felt so relieved to see it. Turning the end of the wand toward the two Death Eaters, he found himself muttering,

"Should kill 'em."

But his friend ignored his ramblings and started to try and drag him back down the street.

"'s not important right now. The ministry will get their hands on them soon enough," Sirius's voice was loud in his ear, "Dawlish has already called for backup. Death eater will be i-"

The rest of the explanation was cut off when James stumbled on a rock. The auror fell forward, dragging his friend down with him. The two landed in a heap in the ruble. Sirius mumbled some kind of apology, but James was too distracted to notice.

The fall had brought both of them incredibly close to the unconscious death eaters. Rabastan lay just in front of James, the man's black cloak had fallen open, exposing a glistening device. The metal ball appeared to have fallen out of a pocket in the death eater's cloak when he fell. However, what interested James was that it was the exact same object that he had seen in the alleyway before the fight had begun.

If he was correct, then this might very well be some kind of magical explosive device. If he could get his hands on it then he would be able to use it against the death eaters. They would be able to catch the bastards off guard by attacking them from behind…they could win this.

As soon as his friend's weight lifted off of him, James scurried over to the still body of Lestrange, ignoring Sirius's confused exclamation. He reached out to grab the metal device just as he felt Sirius's hand grab onto his shoulder. As his fingers wrapped around the warm metal, James felt a jerk behind his navel and, instantly, the two aurors vanished with a soft crack.

The last thing that James thought before Dufftown disappeared around him was how much he hated portkeys. All the two friends could do was watch helplessly as a dark, stone room spun into focus.

The portkey deposited the two men onto the hard floor before it rolled out of James's limp hand and out of sight in the shadow of a large, empty, fireplace.

"Shit," Sirius breathed, picking himself up off the dirty floor, "I think we just found the Death Eater headquarters."