Chapter 32: Didn't See That Coming
I did my waiting! Twelve years of it in Azkaban!
~Sirius Black~
Sirius had finally decided that he would simply attend the Malfoy ball as Padmus McGrimm, to establish his charming, flirtatious, mysterious persona amongst the society he was trying to change. No flashy pranks, no throwing down the gauntlet, no dramatic declarations of war. He had contemplated setting nifflers loose on the party-goers but decided the risk was not worth the reward.
They had arrived fashionably late. Arcturus was dressed in a feathered raven mask and robes that resembled wings. Sirius wore a mask that resembled his animagus form, the Grim. They immediately sought out their hosts who were enjoying the company of other masked revelers near the doors leading out to the spacious gardens in the back.
Malfoy and his son Lucious were easy enough to locate, as they were in a huddle with Cygnus and Druella, Persephone, Abraxas's wife must have been on the dance floor, or entertaining other guests.
Abraxas smiled at Arcturus, "Ahh, Lord Black! I'm so glad you decided to come. Where is Dorea? You know how much she energizes a party!"
Arcturus nodded regally to Abraxas, "Lord Malfoy." He smiled, "Lady Black asked that I send her regards, but she was feeling a bit under the weather." A complete lie, as Dorea actually couldn't stand Abraxas or his son or his wife. They all were people she went out of her way to avoid. You met my nephew, Mr. McGrimm?" He then said, "Padmus has graciously agreed to become my estate manager. He may even be my proxy at times until Sirius reaches his majority." In other words, Don't mess with him. He's family. The message was sent and all turned speculative and calculating gazes upon Lord Black's nephew. Sirius could feel Cygnus's malevolent glare but ignored it.
Sirius AKA Padmus turned his attention from greeting the group, charming Druella and the more curious and perpetually doomed to disappointment Cygnus, before finally turning his attention to his cousin Narcissa. Narcissa's mask was adorned with swan feathers. She was quite beautiful in long flowing, white and silver silk robes. Her two-toned platinum and black hair was braided in an intricate up-do.
He greeted her by kissing her gallantly on the back of the hand, just as the music from the gardens shifted to a more intimate song, and invited her to dance. She agreed and he escorted her out towards the gardens following the music and leaving the rest of the group to sort themselves out.
The landscaped garden had been transformed for this evening. A massive bonfire stood in the center of a pillar of rune-carved stones, reminiscent of Stonehenge. The stones helped amplify the music, coming from a live band that had been set up off to the side on a small stage. The surrounding orchard was ready for harvest and the smell of ripened apples and wood smoke from the bonfire perfumed the air. Long tables were laden with food and drinks, and a contingent of house elves kept it coming.
The pair joined other dancing couples as they weaved their way through and around the stones, skirting a fair distance from the heat of the fire. Magic seemed to pulse in the air, as wizards and witches celebrated with abandon.
Sirius smirked each time he caught Lucius's or Cygnus's glare and decided to give them something to glare about. Sirius, otherwise known as Padmus McGrimm was an accomplished dancer. The young witch in his arms was beautiful and her smile was charming. "Why Miss Black, are you flirting with me?" He asked playfully.
Narcissa chuckled, "Of course not." She lifted her head proudly, "I'm flirting with a very mysterious dog." Padmus's mask was that of his animagus form, a black dog. His robe was lined with black faux fur.
Sirius chuckled darkly, "Bow-wow." he teased spinning her around and caught sight of the Malfoy heir glowering in their direction. He couldn't blame the young man for his jealousy. Padmus was handsome, roguish, mysterious, and everything he wasn't. "I think your intended is quite jealous." He pulled her a little closer than was appropriate given the difference in their 'apparent' ages. "I know I would be." whispering softly in her ear.
Lucious looked murderous and only Abraxas at his elbow kept the young Malfoy heir from charging to Cissy's rescue. He chuckled darkly seeing her blush even with the swan mask obscuring her features.
Finally, the song came to a conclusion and he escorted her back to her fuming family. His grandfather was looking on in exasperation, but he seemed to have used the opportunity to speak with Lucious about the betrothal. Lucious graciously claimed Narcissa back on his arm and quickly escorted her away from the group to dance. It was such an Alpha male thing to do.
Sirius smirked and let his gaze sweep across the grounds and that's when it happened. A small group of older wizards who were gathered off to the side caught and held his attention. The group was adorned in Death Eater regalia. He wasn't sure if they had just arrived or if they had been there the whole time.
Suddenly, as if something or someone else was in control of his actions he began moving in their direction. It was the strangest sensation. He wondered if he had been imperiused but didn't think so. It was more like… he was possessed. He walked through the crowd, which seemed to part before him like an insubstantial mist. He felt like his steps were being ordered by a higher authority. Destiny was his path, but Fate was pulling the strings.
A masked Voldemort in a golden snake-like mask was standing among a small group of wizards, smiling. Sirius could feel their awareness of his approach. He was reminded strongly of pawns surrounding their King on a chessboard. A Death Eater stepped between him and the man his eyes were drilling into.
Viscerally he was aware of his grandfather moving towards him, but he'd never reach him in time. He tore his gaze from Voldemort to glare at the one that stood between them. He took another step forward and the man's wand tip was touching his chest and he could smell the wine on his breath. He took another step forward, forcing the man to retreat a step. He came to a stop and simply stared at him and he visibly gulped.
"Let him pass." Voldemort's voice was soft and smooth, like snakes. He must have perfected that voice for years to make his whispered words sound so commanding. The man hesitated as if he would dare disobey an order from his master. A smirk at the edges of his lips infuriated the man who he thought he recognized as MacNair. Finally, the Death eater stepped aside and Sirius pushed past him, making sure he felt it.
It was a public venue here. Voldemort wouldn't want to make a scene. Oh, he was sure that he was being marked for death or worse, but Voldemort didn't have the power to act openly yet. Sirius took three more steps to be within punching distance of Voldemort and he felt his inner circle of friends draw in closer, felt MacNair's wand tickling him between his shoulder blades.
He grimaced a bit and said, "Lord Voldemort I presume?"
The man was tall, handsome, in a vampiric sort of way. His dark hair was swept back stylishly. He had pale skin that looked starved of the sun's affection with chiseled features; a strong and aristocratic face. At least what he could see of it that wasn't hidden by the mask of snake scales that he wore. It was his eyes that made an impression though as they glowed with a red-hued murderous light.
Sirius sketched a bow, "Padmus McGrimm, at your service."
When he straightened he met Voldemort's gaze and felt the full unbridled power of Voldemort's mental assault. It was so quick that Sirius was almost taken by surprise. But Fate wasn't surprised. Destiny wasn't. Death wasn't. He felt the world spin away. He felt magic rise up from his gut and darkness swept in. Time seemed to completely stop.
He blinked and looked around frantically. Voldemort was no longer standing before him. The Death Eaters at his back were gone. The bonfire, the revelers, the musicians, the stars in the sky… all gone. He was standing in a familiar place. A misty gray place. He spun in a circle, his wand springing from its holster to his hand.
"Where am I?" He called out, his voice seeming to echo through the room coming back to him thrice, Where am I? Where am I? Where am I?
A soft breeze blew through, and he inhaled, an aroma that reminded him of the ocean. An excerpt from Pat Conroy's book Prince of Tides for some reason came to his mind as he breathed in the heady scent.
' ... A bold, fecund aroma of the tidal marsh, exquisite and sensual, the smell of the South in heat, a smell like new milk, semen and spilled wine, all perfumed with seawater…'
Lily had gotten him the book for Christmas and it had left quite the impression.
The mist parted like a curtain before him and he saw he was standing before a raised dais that was seated in the center of an ancient yet somehow pristine outdoor theater space that was carved out of the mountain. A beautiful ocean glistened like flawless sapphire far below him. The temperature was warm, and it was the middle of the day.
A woman, wearing ancient greek inspired robes of gray and silver, lounged upon an ornate golden throne. Her eyes were milky white. Her long black hair was captured in a single braid that fell across her shoulder. A circlet of silver and sapphires graced her ageless brow. Her features were cold and aristocratic.
She was blind but he was pretty sure she didn't need her eyes to see... everything. She was beautiful and cold, aloof and looming. She terrified him. She tilted her head, studying him like he was nothing more than a potion ingredient with those pupilless orbs. He dropped his gaze to her sandalled feet, "My lady." He bowed properly.
'I am… displeased.' She spoke but her voice was in his mind. Painfully so. He pressed his hand to his head and sank to his knees with a cry of pain. Fear stilled his tongue.
'You have meddled with my plans wizard. Magic has meddled with my plans. Death has meddled with my plans!' She slammed her fist down on the arm of the throne and so far she hadn't asked him to speak so holding his tongue seemed prudent.
"You have spoken a prophecy. You are giving it, even now. Like all seers, you will not remember speaking it. But this prophecy will be heard by every wizard and witch with ears to hear." Fate, (for who else could she be?) sneered. "Would you like to listen?"
As this was the first time she'd asked him a direct question he whispered, "Yes my lady."
Soon the outdoor amphitheater was filled with his magically amplified voice eerily echoing around him thrice. It was disorienting hearing everything in triplicate.
The one with the knowledge to defeat the Dark Lord is hunting
Seeking to undo Fates plans
By Fire, By Venom, by Curse, By sword, By Laughter, By Life, By Love
shall his souls
Burn.
Death is a hungry mistress and she hunts with her servants;
The Grim, The Wolf, The Stag, The Dove, The Raven, The Snake, The Fox, The Phoenix,
What was is tomorrow
What will be is yesterday.
The one with the knowledge to defeat the Dark Lord is hunting
Seeking to undo Fates plans
Sirius felt shock ripple through him, "Wait? I gave a prophecy?" Sirius, still on his knees before the goddess, asked.
Silence greeted him and he looked up, and the world tilted sickeningly again and he felt grass beneath his hand and could hear screaming and shouts. He shook his head to clear it and when he could focus saw that he was staring into Voldemort's gleaming red eyes. "Did I?" Sirius asked. Then his grandfather was there his hand on his shoulder helping him rise. He felt as if he'd been hit in the head with a bludger.
Arcturus kept a firm grip on his grandson's arm and glared at Voldemort and his goons who were all currently glaring at his grandson, who thankfully still retained the Padmus disguise. "It seems so lad."
No one really knew what to do right then, so Arcturus smiled dangerously, causing several of Voldemort's cohorts to step back in pure self-preservation. "I assume if you want to hear the prophesy again you'll be able to visit the hall of prophecy in the Department of Mysteries." Arcturus shrugged,
"I'll hear it again now!" Voldemort hissed angrily.
Arcturus sighed, "Seers have no memory of prophecies they give. If it was a true prophecy a sphere will have appeared in the DOM." He glared, "And you yourself will be the only one able to retrieve it. Unless it wasn't about you at all."
His eyes raked the large crowd that had witnessed Padmus go into a trance, had watched his eyes turn milk-white, his voice had reverberated with power and was projected with magic and the prophesy had echoed eerily three times. "Or you can simply view your memory of it in a Pensieve."
Voldemort glared at Arcturus and then his eyes moved viciously to Sirius who was still feeling like he'd been concussed. "I would have the truth from this…" He scowled, "Seer."
"I'm afraid only Death holds the answers you seek. Now if you will excuse us, I think we have overstayed our welcome." With that he steered Sirius out of the circle of danger he was in and escorted him to the apparition point. It was amusing to watch guests leaping out of their way as if leaping out of the way of an unforgivable. No one wanted to be anywhere close to the pair who had at least a dozen wands pointed at their backs.
Once they were safely ensconced in Arcturus's study, Sirius let the Padmus disguise go, returning to his 11-year-old self. "He's gone," Sirius said in shock. "Padfoot is gone. I… I'm alone."
Then he collapsed in a heap with Arcturus barely able to catch him before his head hit the floor.