Tough Choices
Tough Choices
Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. This.
The torch in the corner was going out, and it was too high for either of them to reach it, even if Harry stood on top of Sirius' shoulders. The walls were impenetrable, made of a dark stone.
"Do you have your wand?"
"Yeah. He didn't take it. Why?"
"Give it to me."
"What're you going to do, Sirius?"
Sirius shook his head, glancing around again for a door.
"We can't affect the room, though. What are you going to do?"
"Harry, you know if he gets a chance to torture me, he'll get the Keys."
Harry nodded miserably.
"If he gets the Keys, then everyone at Hogwarts and the Ministry is going to die."
"Yeah."
"So he can't get a chance to torture me."
"Yeah, but he's too quick. We can't hex him in time, or kill him."
"I don't want to kill him," Sirius said grimly, a determined look on his face.
"No," Harry said, eyes widening, staring incredulously at his godfather. "Sirius, you can't."
"Yes I can," Sirius insisted. "If I don't, then three thousand people will be dead by nightfall."
"No!" Harry repeated, shaking his head furiously. "There's another way. There has to be."
"We can't disapperate. I can't transform."
"If I attack him -"
"Then he'll defend himself until he can either get your wand, sheild himself, or torture me enough. But he won't attack you outright until he's killed everyone."
"Sirius, don't be crazy. I'm not going to let you kill yourself!"
"Then do it for me."
"What?"
"I said do it for me! Let the Keys be lost, don't let him get them!"
"No, Sirius. I can't do that. I could never do that."
"You could have in the Shreiking Shack."
"I'm not going to let you die!"
Sirius looked down, and sat on the cold floor. "Then Voldemort has already won," he said softly, defeat and loss in his eyes, "and I will die a worthless murderer." Harry stood stiffly across the room, shaking his head in denial.
"Harry, do you have any idea what's going to happen in exactly fifteen minutes?"
Harry stopped shaking his head and didn't answer.
"Voldemort is going to walk through that door. And then he's going to point his wand at me, or someone else's wand, even, and he's going to say Crucio. Then he's going to say it again. And again. And again. And I will break. You will watch him do it, and you will watch me hand him the Keys. And then you will watch as he smiles, and walks out of the room. And before nightfall Hogwarts will burn. Do you know who is going to die? All your teachers, all your friends, everyone you know. And the Ministry will burn. Three thousand people, Harry, and they're all going to die if you don't hand me that wand right now."
Trembling, Harry didn't answer or move. Sirius plunged on.
"Not just the students, and not just the teachers, and not just all the Ministry officials. But their families, their children. You will see it and dream of it and know that you could have prevented it. You will watch as Voldemort knocks in the door, and as he stands in front of a weeping, pleading mother who is protecting her infant child. As he kills the mother, and then as he lifts the child and holds it around the throat and digs his fingers into its tiny throat and it sqirms and screams as blood runs down its neck until it dies. Then as he turns to the terrified six-year-old standing in the corner, a Death Eater on either side of her, both smiling cruelly and holding her shoulders.
"You can watch in your dreams as she cries out and struggles and kicks, and then as Voldemort says softly to her that he is only going to say two sweet little words to her, you may see hope and uncertainty and puzzle show in her face. You can watch them smile, and see Voldemort say quietly Avada, and watch as her hope turns to terror, and as he waits to see that terror, and to let the little six-year-old girl know that she is about to die. And then you can see him say Kedavra, and watch as the child slumps to the floor, eyes wide and lifeless. And you can know that you could have stopped it. You can see the Death Eaters shoot up the Dark Mark, and Disapperate to another home to slaughter more innocents, leaving the bodies intact, or burning the house to the ground. You can see Ron and Hermione and Dumbledore and Ginny and Snape and McGonagall and Hagrid die. And then, after three thousand people have been killed, you can wake up and watch helpless as Voldemort comes into this room and points his wand at me and says the same thing he said to that little girl. You can see the same terror and betrayal in my face. Then you can see me slump dead on the floor. And then you can see Voldemort turn to you, and in that instant as the sun rises red, you can despair as you know that you damned three thousand people for no reason but selfishness and lack of foresight.
"Or you can give me that wand now, Harry."
Slowly, Harry drew his wand out of his robes and held it out, trembling as he did so. Sirius stood and came forward and looked into his eyes.
The wand clattered to the floor.
Sirius said five more words before he died.
"Thank you, Harry," Sirius whispered, and put a hand on his shoulder, not looking away as he knelt to pick up the wand. He pointed it at himself then, and a fierce pride shone in his eyes as he stared at Harry, and spoke his last two words, and fell to the floor. A ghost of three small golden keys rose out of Sirius' chest and vanished.
And Harry knelt over his body and wept, but before the door appeared where no door had been before, he stood, hatred coursing through his blood, and picked up his wand.
Tough Choices
Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. This.
The torch in the corner was going out, and it was too high for either of them to reach it, even if Harry stood on top of Sirius' shoulders. The walls were impenetrable, made of a dark stone.
"Do you have your wand?"
"Yeah. He didn't take it. Why?"
"Give it to me."
"What're you going to do, Sirius?"
Sirius shook his head, glancing around again for a door.
"We can't affect the room, though. What are you going to do?"
"Harry, you know if he gets a chance to torture me, he'll get the Keys."
Harry nodded miserably.
"If he gets the Keys, then everyone at Hogwarts and the Ministry is going to die."
"Yeah."
"So he can't get a chance to torture me."
"Yeah, but he's too quick. We can't hex him in time, or kill him."
"I don't want to kill him," Sirius said grimly, a determined look on his face.
"No," Harry said, eyes widening, staring incredulously at his godfather. "Sirius, you can't."
"Yes I can," Sirius insisted. "If I don't, then three thousand people will be dead by nightfall."
"No!" Harry repeated, shaking his head furiously. "There's another way. There has to be."
"We can't disapperate. I can't transform."
"If I attack him -"
"Then he'll defend himself until he can either get your wand, sheild himself, or torture me enough. But he won't attack you outright until he's killed everyone."
"Sirius, don't be crazy. I'm not going to let you kill yourself!"
"Then do it for me."
"What?"
"I said do it for me! Let the Keys be lost, don't let him get them!"
"No, Sirius. I can't do that. I could never do that."
"You could have in the Shreiking Shack."
"I'm not going to let you die!"
Sirius looked down, and sat on the cold floor. "Then Voldemort has already won," he said softly, defeat and loss in his eyes, "and I will die a worthless murderer." Harry stood stiffly across the room, shaking his head in denial.
"Harry, do you have any idea what's going to happen in exactly fifteen minutes?"
Harry stopped shaking his head and didn't answer.
"Voldemort is going to walk through that door. And then he's going to point his wand at me, or someone else's wand, even, and he's going to say Crucio. Then he's going to say it again. And again. And again. And I will break. You will watch him do it, and you will watch me hand him the Keys. And then you will watch as he smiles, and walks out of the room. And before nightfall Hogwarts will burn. Do you know who is going to die? All your teachers, all your friends, everyone you know. And the Ministry will burn. Three thousand people, Harry, and they're all going to die if you don't hand me that wand right now."
Trembling, Harry didn't answer or move. Sirius plunged on.
"Not just the students, and not just the teachers, and not just all the Ministry officials. But their families, their children. You will see it and dream of it and know that you could have prevented it. You will watch as Voldemort knocks in the door, and as he stands in front of a weeping, pleading mother who is protecting her infant child. As he kills the mother, and then as he lifts the child and holds it around the throat and digs his fingers into its tiny throat and it sqirms and screams as blood runs down its neck until it dies. Then as he turns to the terrified six-year-old standing in the corner, a Death Eater on either side of her, both smiling cruelly and holding her shoulders.
"You can watch in your dreams as she cries out and struggles and kicks, and then as Voldemort says softly to her that he is only going to say two sweet little words to her, you may see hope and uncertainty and puzzle show in her face. You can watch them smile, and see Voldemort say quietly Avada, and watch as her hope turns to terror, and as he waits to see that terror, and to let the little six-year-old girl know that she is about to die. And then you can see him say Kedavra, and watch as the child slumps to the floor, eyes wide and lifeless. And you can know that you could have stopped it. You can see the Death Eaters shoot up the Dark Mark, and Disapperate to another home to slaughter more innocents, leaving the bodies intact, or burning the house to the ground. You can see Ron and Hermione and Dumbledore and Ginny and Snape and McGonagall and Hagrid die. And then, after three thousand people have been killed, you can wake up and watch helpless as Voldemort comes into this room and points his wand at me and says the same thing he said to that little girl. You can see the same terror and betrayal in my face. Then you can see me slump dead on the floor. And then you can see Voldemort turn to you, and in that instant as the sun rises red, you can despair as you know that you damned three thousand people for no reason but selfishness and lack of foresight.
"Or you can give me that wand now, Harry."
Slowly, Harry drew his wand out of his robes and held it out, trembling as he did so. Sirius stood and came forward and looked into his eyes.
The wand clattered to the floor.
Sirius said five more words before he died.
"Thank you, Harry," Sirius whispered, and put a hand on his shoulder, not looking away as he knelt to pick up the wand. He pointed it at himself then, and a fierce pride shone in his eyes as he stared at Harry, and spoke his last two words, and fell to the floor. A ghost of three small golden keys rose out of Sirius' chest and vanished.
And Harry knelt over his body and wept, but before the door appeared where no door had been before, he stood, hatred coursing through his blood, and picked up his wand.