that's right, it's...*drumroll please* the LAST PART! *short pause* okay, enough rejoicing. down to business.
you guys, this is so exciting! 31 reviews on the last part--that's the most reviews i've ever gotten on *anything.* it makes me so very very happy. hokay, so virtual cookies to all of the following people:
Olive Green, Meredith (um...depends on whether anyone wants me to do a sequel. *hint hint hint* *grin* if so, then the next part will jump straight to that time period...yeah.) Thena, Shakira, stinkerbell (gah! there's another part of dark days that authoralert didn't tell me about?!?!? I HATE AUTHORALERT! it makes me want to throw things! but then stinkerbell makes me all happy again so i don't throw things. hooray for stinky stinky, saving the world once again! and yes, i'm plugging *dark days are coming* without mercy. all of you go read it NOW.) SyberKat (and anyone else who's looking for part VII....there's something truly bizarre going on, cos it's right here: http://www.fanfiction.ws/master.cfm?action=story-read&storyid=87145. and it's under the name rave. but it's not in my profile. that is most odd.) soz (i want the china doll sequel, sozzie! then again, knowing my temperamental authoralert, it's probably already up. grr.) everlastingwhy, voicelady, hermione gulliver, al (genius! al=genius! when you're done reading "dark days are coming" go read "dracaena draco." OR ELSE.) Aylihael, kali ma, jenn, arabella figg, carole (eep! carole reads my stories? *is rather starstruck* oh, and if i was still trying to write the same Anika that i began the story with, i'd be very close to killing her off. i'm glad she got better.) viola, hyphen (i wish i could say i was being subtly funny, but i fear i was just being flowery. *sigh* er...well. *cough* we'll forget my melodramatic tendencies for the moment, not that they won't show up in force in this chapter) donutgirl, yay, eve6, molly, auntie cassie, amanita lestrange, peeves_is_peeved (widgoo babywoo...), flourish (carole, hyphen, cassandra claire AND flourish?! *is EXTREMELY starstruck* ) beth, julie weasley, simon (i'm sorry! i swear, no more calling sirius "si." i went through this whole chapter and checked, just for you) sherry (of course you're not a valley girl!) and *deep breath* elise!
phewf! *wipes brow* that was really, really long. Special thanks to cassandra claire, for being marvelous.
i don't own nothin'. except sirius, of course. er--anika, i mean. heh. *blushes* Freudian slip....also sirius is a potty mouth in this part. (scandal!) now you know.
does anyone else think "high and dry" by radiohead is the most perfect Sirius theme song ever written? if i weren't so violently opposed to writing songfics, i'd write one for that. anyone who's good at songfics want to take a stab at it?
gah! i've got to stop talking, NOW.
-rave
Bryter Layter--Part Ten
Sunset
Voldemort's tongue flicked out over his teeth like a cat's, testing the air, tasting the direction of the wind. It was a good day, he thought with a feral smile; the wind was from Gorias in the east, his strength was at its peak, and Wormtail's information meant the beginning of a new day for his quest...the end of two of his worst enemies...
He surveyed the masked circle of Death Eaters that surrounded him, watching impassively. They would have something to watch, he thought. Yes, they would certainly have something to watch.
"Snape!" he called, gripping the mark on his wrist tightly with one bone-white hand.
There was a quick rustle, a shuffle of cloaks, and the dark young man stepped into the center of the clearing, quickly sweeping a low bow. "My Lord? You summoned me?"
"Snape," whispered Voldemort slowly, seizing his servant's arm tightly, fingers probing the black brand on the forearm. Snape gasped in pain, trying to pull away, but the Dark Lord's grip merely tightened until the tattoo began to smoke, sizzle, writhe under his fingertips--
He ripped his hand away, smiling gently at his servant. Blood trickled down Snape's chin; he'd bitten through his lip in an effort not to cry out. Good.
"Severus, you haven't done very well," whispered Voldemort, in the condescending scold of a preschool teacher to an unruly child. "Honestly, I expected better."
"My Lord--I don't understand--" The boy's desperate black eyes darted to the circle of wizards around him, but they made to move to help. He stared back at Voldemort, the panic, the submission growing slowly in his slack face...
"Of course you don't," hissed Voldemort, and in a sudden movement hurled Severus to the ground, where he lay staring up at his master in utter terror. "But you've let yourself become expendable. Silly of you, really..."
The boy tried to scramble away, babbling, "I'm so sorry, Milord...I never..."
Voldemort's fingers dug suddenly into Severus's forehead, shoving his head back so hard on his neck that there was an audible crack, staring straight into his servant's eyes and dragging him to his knees. "Do you recognize the names 'James and Lily Potter,' Severus?"
Severus's face twitched in confusion and panic. "We were at school together..."
"Perhaps," hissed Voldemort, "you know them better as 'Romeo and Juliet.'"
Comprehension dawned in Severus's black eyes, and with it an ever-greater fear. "What..."
"Expendable, my dear Severus," and Voldemort blinked, slowly and deliberately, the feline narrowing-of-eyes that signaled the doom of some unfortunate small creature.
"No," moaned Severus, and the Dark Lord licked his lips again, breathing in the sweet reek of fear that filled the air.
He raised his wand.
*
Dumbledore was sorting papers in his office when there was a crack like lightning and the air in his office rearranged itself, sending papers swirling off the desk as Severus employed his personal privilege of Apparition within the wards of Hogwarts.
"He knows," gasped Severus, doubled over on the desk.
Dumbledore was on his feet in an instant. "Severus? What do you mean?"
"He knows," repeated Severus, clutching at his heaving chest. He'd never realized how painful it was to breathe, how much effort his lungs put into the simple motion of contraction and relaxation. He coughed, and pulled a hand away from his mouth to see the stain of red that had blossomed there. "Someone--I don't know who--told him who the codenames stood for. He already knew most all of them anyway, but now he knows about the Potters, and you know they were the ones he wanted the most. Dumbledore, there's someone besides me working for him--"
"Severus," and Dumbledore's voice was sharp, "what did he do to you?"
"Angry," mumbled Severus, "cos this person gave him the names before I did. Used the Cruciatus curse on me. He's going to go after them--you've got to keep them moving around--I don't know where he's going to strike--"
"You've done very well, Severus. Stupefy," said Dumbledore grimly, and Severus collapsed into a boneless heap on the ground, his pain quieted.
The ancient wizard stood up and strode to the fire, snatching a handful of black powder from the jar on the desk and tossing it into the flames. "Poppy!"
The Healer's figure appeared and grew in the blaze, spinning faster and faster as it grew until suddenly Madame Pomfrey herself stepped out of the fire, brushing dirt from her spotless, rosy robes. "What is it, Albus?"
"Take Severus up to the hospital wing, Poppy, he's been hit with Cruciatus." The woman's face went pale, but she didn't stop to ask questions; she hoisted the young man into her arms and stepped back into the still-pink fire, whirling back to the hospital.
The headmaster stood a moment in thought and then, striding back to the desk, seized another handful of powder, flung it onto the fire, and called out "Romeo! Juliet! I need you down here, now!"
"Right," said Lily's brisk, competent voice, and a moment later the two of them were climbing out of the flames, barely even ruffled by the journey. "Sir?"
"I've received word...Voldemort's onto you. Someone's told him your codenames." Dumbledore's face softened, watching the way Lily's hands tightened on the hem of her work robes, the way James's eyes hardened resolutely behind his glasses. "I want you to go into hiding."
James gasped in shock; Lily looked horrified. "Albus, you can't be suggesting we should run from Voldemort?"
"I know you want to fight him, James." Dumbledore heaved a sigh. "I understand it. But think of Harry...think of his safety...and you've got to go soon." He stared straight at Lily; the woman looked away, shaking her magnificent crimson head in resignation. "I know, Albus, I know. Above all, I don't want Harry to be in danger..."
"But we can't hide from him." James's eyes glittered, intense and worried. He looked nearly ten years older than he was; but then, Dumbledore thought sadly, James had looked old ever since Harry's birth, fatherhood bringing out a maturity and dignity in him that had always been there but had never been shown before. "There's nowhere we can hide from him."
"There is." Dumbledore ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes. "The Fidelius charm. It's the best chance you two have...but I'm almost afraid to use it..."
"But--"
"Why--"
"Because someone close to you--very close--is leaking information to the Dark Lord, and the charm requires absolute trust...whomever you choose as Secret-Keeper could be the one..."
"Call Sirius." James's voice was low, resolute, and decided.
"James..."
"Call him." There was a bitter, commanding edge to James's voice.
Dumbledore locked eyes with his former student. "It would perhaps be safer if I were your secret-keeper."
Lily shook her head, taking over the conversation from her husband. "We can't put you in danger, Dumbledore. That's a risk that's too much to take."
There was a very long pause. James's determined brown eyes bored into Dumbledore's light blue ones, and then suddenly Dumbledore sighed again and ripped his glasses off, tossing them to the desk in disgust. "Very well. Your choice." He reached for the pot of powder on the desk, snatching out a pinch of the black powder, and got up to throw it into the flames. "Mercutio! A word with you!"
"And but one word with me?" Sirius's darkly amused voice echoed out of the fireplace a moment before his tall form appeared revolving in it, and a bare second later he was strolling out of the flames, hands in the pockets of his robes, to lean nonchalantly against the fireplace. "Couple it with something, Albus; make it a word and a blow."
"Voldemort knows James and Lily's codenames," said Dumbledore shortly, turning his back to Sirius to walk slowly back to his desk. "I have informed them that the Fidelius charm is their best chance. They wish you to be their Secret-Keeper."
Sirius went very white; he stared at James and Lily, who watched him mutely, and then back at Dumbledore. "Secret-Keeper....me?"
Dumbledore nodded grimly. "I will leave you three to discuss this...there is a patient in the infirmary that I should check on." He stepped out of the office, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Sirius collapsed very suddenly into the chair by the fireplace, staring at his best friends. "You want me...but..."
"Dumbledore says someone close to us is passing information to Voldemort," said Lily softly. "The Fidelius charm is a huge responsibility, Sirius, but we trust you...we know..."
"But..." Sirius's throat was dry, and suddenly his voice broke and he buried his head in his hands, shaking it. "I can't, Prongs...What if I told him?"
"You'd never tell him," said James quietly, the force of his trust radiating into his words.
Sirius stared up at his friend, dark eyes haunted and twisted. "What if he threatened Ani?"
"What if he's allied with Ani?" and James's voice was bitter, angry. "I don't want to believe that any of my friends could ever--ever--turn to Voldemort, but someone has. I trust you with my life, Padfoot, and even more I trust you with Lily's. And Harry's. Please."
"And you can't tell Ani," said Lily, pain pervading her voice. "You can't tell anyone."
Sirius looked away from them, and James realized that he looked suddenly old, that there were lines around his eyes and mouth...
"Let me think about it," said Sirius in a leaden, hollow voice like an old, old man's. "Give me a little time."
"We have to do it soon," said James, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.
Something crossed Sirius's face that even James could not interpret. Almost inaudibly, he whispered, "All right. All right."
Lily straightened, trying to stay businesslike. "Tomorrow night, then."
"Tomorrow?" hissed Sirius, disbelieving. "How can we possibly be ready by--"
"We will be," said James resolutely, scrubbing one hand through his thick hair, feeling so tired...so tired..."We'll have to be."
*
At seven o'clock, Sirius burst into the tiny house in Godric's Hollow, wild and disheveled. "You can't use me. You can't."
Lily and James were on their feet in an instant, Harry squalling unhappily at having any attention be diverted from him. "Pads, have you gone off your conk? Who else would we use?"
"Wormtail," gasped out Sirius. "It's perfect. It's the only thing...the only way...He hasn't got anyone, a lover or anyone, to be a weakness. Ani's mine, Prongs, you know that. I'm helpless if it comes to putting her in danger. If there's one thing Peter's good at, it's hiding...if you use Peter and then let him go into hiding...I'll tell Ani it's me." He ripped the words out of a throat thick with guilt and pain, trying to keep his voice expressionless. "You tell...tell Moony it's me, also. One of them has to be the spy, and it's the perfect way to feed out false information...Voldemort will come after me...you'll be safe. Please, Prongs, you've got to do this."
"Sirius, why--"
"I can't choose between you and Anika, James." Sirius hung his head, the effort of convincing them spent. "You know I can't. This is the safest way...for you, Lily, Harry..."
Anger asserted itself in James' features. "Sirius, you can't go jerking us around like this! We had a plan, you can't just change everything at the last--we have to start in two hours--"
"You've got to change it," snapped Sirius. "This is too important."
James swore, and smacked the wall with his fist. "Damnit, Sirius! Who the fuck gave you permission to mess everything up?"
"Me?" Sirius burst out. "Why? Because I don't want you to die? Fuck you, James!"
"I'll handle that, thank you," said Lily coldly. "Honestly, both of you. James, Sirius is trying to help. Sirius, James is trying not to kill you. So calm down. I understand your point, Padfoot--James, I think I agree with him...it is true, it's a better bluff--Sirius is the first person Voldemort will go after."
James swore again, but rather more quietly. "All right. Fuck. All right."
"Good," said Sirius, and suddenly sighed. "I guess Ani and I will have to go into hiding soon."
James nodded.
"Then--" and Sirius suddenly lunged forward and hugged his friend tightly, feeling tears prick like white-hot needles at the backs of his eyes. He turned to Lily, still forcing back tears at the sight of her, small and strong, and the tiny baby who lay in her arms, glaring at him. He embraced her, rather awkwardly due to the way Harry came between them, and stroked his godson's head.
He looked back up at James. "Call Peter."
James nodded, mutely.
Sirius made a curt, final motion with his head and turned, yanking his jacket over his shoulders, to the door. He didn't look back as he climbed onto Rae, kicking the motorcycle into the dark, cold night, away from the comforting glow of the cottage and the warm baby-smell of its rooms.
*
Somehow, Sirius managed to get the bike and himself home without crashing into something or falling off. It was torture to walk up the stairs toward the apartment, knowing what would meet him...
The door flew open, and he was faced with her glowing face, her swirl of raven hair...
"I ordered all the bridesmaid dresses," she said happily, kissing him on the cheek as he entered, rubbing her smooth cheek against his rough-shaven one. "Come and see."
And what have you seen today, Anika? What secrets could have you learned, and told? Is it possible that you...that you....
Sirius dragged himself into the kitchen. "I warn you, Ani, it's been a long day, so forgive me if I act like an absolute prick."
"Oh, it's all right. This'll cheer you up..." She was rummaging in a large packing box, pulling out wads of tissue paper, and finally pulled out a long, silky confection in light purple. "What do you think?"
He stared at it, taking in the bizarre, crisscrossing straps and flaring skirt. It looked weirdly asymmetrical. He couldn't picture it at his wedding, and certainly not on six threatening females. "I don't like it."
Her face fell. "But why not? It's the only color that suits all the bridesmaids, and anyway it isn't really your business."
"Look, it's my wedding too!"
"I know, but you said you didn't want to muck about with dresses and things, so I thought I'd..."
"Well, you could at least have asked me--"
"Why?! You don't know the first thing about dresses!"
"It's not just the dresses! First you sent out all the invitations without asking me--"
"I did ask you! Anyway, Sirius, if I wanted any shit from you I'd just squeeze your head."
"That's so immature, and anyway you didn't ask me! And you sent them to all those insufferable uncles of yours, and you know I wanted it to be a small wedding!"
"I got them back before anyone even received them, didn't I? Sent out seventy retriever owls! Cost me a fortune!"
He made an exasperated motion with his hands. "That's not the point!"
Her eyes started to sting with anger and repressed tears. "Well, what is the point, then?"
"That you should stop trying to control everything! You act like you're the only one making a giant commitment here--"
"Look, Sirius Black," and she sprung to her feet, breathing heavily, smoldering, "you told me you didn't want to get too involved in this 'arrangement stuff,' that's exactly what you said, so why shouldn't I arrange things? It's not like you've been exactly panting to help me--when you haven't been a thousand miles away on business, you've been trying to get into my robes! It doesn't really help me plan things!"
"I am not some--some kind of--of absentee sex maniac!" This was getting out of hand. All he'd said was that he didn't like the dresses--she was being ridiculous--"It's a job, do you want to starve in the streets?!" Do you think I like being away from you? Do you think it doesn't kill me inside? he almost said, but bit down hard on the words.
"I support myself!"
"Anyway, you've not been exactly the loving fiancée when I was here, O Ice Queen Maxime--"
"This whole goddamn engagement was a huge mistake!"
"Damn straight! I can't understand why the fuck I asked you in the first place!" He, too, was on his feet, yelling at the top of his lungs.
"I hate you!"
"Well, I hate you too!"
"Fine!" bawled Anika furiously, her face red and hot. She hurled one hand, trembling with rage, towards the door. "Just get out!"
"Fine!" Sirius yelled back, clenching his fists and nearly spitting with temper. "I'm going!"
"Good! Go on!"
"Manipulative bitch!"
"Self-absorbed pig!"
"Weepy, controlling--"
"Conceited, arrogant--"
"I'm leaving!"
"Then go!"
"I will!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"And don't come back!"
"I'm not going to!"
Slam. Stomp stomp stomp.
"Who needs you anyway?" Anika screamed at the closed door, hurling a vase in its general direction. The china splintered with a satisfying crash; one sharp piece nearly flew into her face. She shrieked something at the door, not even a word, just something that sounded obscene, and kicked a chair.
Outside, in the hallway, he strode, seething, out into the cold October night and sat in front of the building, fumbling for a cigarette in his pockets. In just a minute, she'll be running out here to apologize. And I'll say 'I just need to be alone, thanks,' very pointedly and get on my motorcycle and exit beautifully. And then I'll drop my cigarette at her feet so she'll know it's all her fault I've started again.
There wasn't even a pack of smokes in his pockets--only tissues and a couple of peppermints. She'd probably gone through all his clothes and trashed his tobacco--interfering bitch!--and he hadn't even had the sense to pick up his wallet when he stormed out. He swore under his breath and kicked a passing dog, taking malicious pleasure in hearing it yelp.
Upstairs, Anika planted herself on the sofa, having bolted the door firmly and torn all the photographs of him down from the fridge. Any minute now, he'll come running up and bang on the door to apologize and I won't even answer. And then I'll sniff, very pointedly, so he can hear it and he'll know he made me cry.
She stared at the ceiling for several minutes, then rolled over and buried her face in the couch, fuming. Ice queen, indeed, she thought fiercely, punching a pillow. Asshole.
The clock ticked.
The door did not open.
She fiddled absently with the black opal ring on her finger and thought dark thoughts.
Outside, Sirius was getting very cold. He hopped awkwardly from foot to foot, longing to just get on Rae and ride away, but unwilling to miss the inevitable apology. His fingers itched for a smoke for the first time in weeks, but he quelled the urge, hand straying instead to the gold band around his ring finger.
Soon enough, she'll come out.
Soon enough, he'll come up here.
*
At midnight, Anika opened the door to go downstairs at the exact same time that Sirius had been raising one hand to knock humbly for admission.
They stared at each other for a few moments, then looked at the floor, then looked back up again.
"Sorry."
There was a short pause. It was a good pause.
"Come help me pick up these photographs?" asked Anika, smiling weakly.
"All right," he said, but made no movement towards the door. "Ani, I wanted to tell you why I was...you know..."
She regarded him silently.
He let out an explosive sigh, closing his eyes. "Voldemort's learned Lily and James's codenames."
Anika went chalk-white. "What? How?"
"Someone told him. Someone close to the Potters." He stared straight into her eyes, trying to force a reaction, but their stormy gray depths told him nothing. "Dumbledore told them to use the Fidelius charm."
You're going to betray her the instant you say those next words. Don't say them, Sirius, please don't say them...please...
"I'm their Secret-Keeper."
Her eyes went wide, and her face had gone from white to the sickening gray of illness. "You...? But Sirius--why did you--that's--"
"I know," he said expressionlessly, staring at the ground.
Anika swore, under her breath.
There was another pause.
"It was very brave," she said, in a small voice.
"Thank you," and he kissed her softly, feeling something empty and weighty in his chest. Is this a broken heart?
"Come back in," she whispered, and she drew him inside, out of the cold of the hallway, closing the door.
*
Something brushed against her ear, rousing her into muted, languid awareness. It was Sirius; he was already pulling on a shirt, a pair of pants, despite the fact that the light was still grey and shadowy through the huge window.
"Mmf," said Anika groggily, rolling over on the well-stuffed pillow and entangling her ankles in the sheet. "Sirius...wha..."
"I've got to go out, Ani."
She made a soft, sleepy sound and raised herself on one elbow. "Where? Why?"
"Oh, you know. Work. Don't worry about it, love; I ought to be back in an hour or two, don't fret." He finished buttoning up the shirt, kissing her affectionately atop the head as he did so. "But don't worry too much if I'm late, either. I might be delayed, you know."
"But it's so early." She held out her arms invitingly, smiling with the warm drowsiness of the just-awakened. "Come back to bed."
"Love to, but can't," said Sirius briskly, reaching for his boots. "I promise you, when I get back we can spend plenty of time there. Very well-spent time."
"Promise?" she pouted, folding her arms across her chest.
"Cross my heart and hope to die," he said, spreading his arms winningly and smiling that wide, disarming smile that always melted her insides into a slow, squiggling pile of mush and blissful glop. "Love you always?"
"You too. No starlets now," said Anika, even in her sleepy state remembering the ritual.
"You know they're extinct," Sirius returned promptly, yanking on his leather jacket with a creak and a jingle of studs.
"And not that horrible--" but he had shut the door before she could get out the word "motorbike," and a moment later she heard the smooth purr of the engine as Sirius revved "that horrible motorbike" and kicked off into the morning sky.
"Damn you, Sirius, when you get back you'd better give me a proper kiss," said Anika into her pillow, and pulled the white comforter over her head.
*
Sirius jogged briskly up the apartment steps, his boots scuffing each stair and squeaking into the echoey stairwell. Peter's flat was all the way up on the sixth floor, but that wasn't so bad...it was a good workout, as Anika used to say.
He knocked on the door, yelling, "Wormy? Wormy, it's me, Padfoot!"
There was no answer. Somewhere down the hallway, there was the sound of a wireless being turned on.
"Wormtail?"
Still no response.
Feeling panic bite at the back of his mind, he thumped more emphatically on the door. "Peter! Open up!"
Silence.
He's been attacked, thought Sirius, his stomach twisting itself into knots of fear. He's been attacked! He's been captured!
Hands trembling, he pulled his wand from his jacket and aimed it at the keyhole. "Alohomora!"
Obligingly, the door clicked, and Sirius tried to force it again, but the chain bolt was drawn.
The chain bolt?
Now the fear was so bad it rushed into his ears and pounded in his brain...everything seemed so far away...he threw his whole body into the door and it burst open, the flimsy chain snapping under the onslaught. And then he was standing on the doorstep of Peter's little flat...
Everything was so tidy. The lights had all been turned out; the floors, he noticed, were bare...the carpets had been rolled back, tucked neatly against the walls. Dread quickening his steps, he fairly flew into the bedroom...the mattress had been stripped, and the closets--he ripped them open, jangling the coat hangers on their metal rack, reflecting his eyes, wide with horror and gradual realization, in the dark mirrors behind them--were emptied of clothes. There was nothing left in the apartment, realized Sirius, and the terrible truth slammed into his stomach.
The bastard. He had this all planned out!
The voices were gibbering, panicking in his head, drowning all the outside sensations as he raced out of the flat, throwing himself onto the motorbike as though by his own urgency he could beat it into a faster pace.
I've got to get there before he does! Somehow I've got to get them out--I could still save them--somehow I could--
He knew he was too late when he saw the thin, twisting column of smoke, rising into the grey sky. No no no no! screamed his mind, but there was nothing he could do...
He nearly crashed the motorcycle as he landed, not even seeing that Hagrid stood by the ruined fireplace, holding a cloth-wrapped bundle...not seeing anything except the ruins of stone and flaming wood that had once been the Potter's home. "No," he whispered, tripping over the motorcycle as he tumbled off, his heart thumping painfully against his ribcage...they can't be dead, they can't be...oh God...
There, under one of the tumbled walls...
A hand.
Nothing more, just one forlorn, still strong-looking hand, still with a gold band around one long finger, reaching out from beneath the pile of stone as though still clutching at life.
"No!" howled Sirius, and he threw himself at it, the grief and the horrible, horrible rage building up into an uncontainable storm within him. He seized at the hand in his own and pulled on it with all the strength in his lean, sinewy body, screaming words he could not even understand in a voice that was not his own, as though he could pull James out from beneath the rubble and he might somehow still be alive, somehow...
Strong hands grasped him firmly but gently about his middle, pulling him away from James's limp remains as he kicked and sobbed unintelligibly, like a child, and there was a rough, broken voice in his ear. "Come on now, Sirius, there's nothing yeh can do..."
"Get off me! Get off me!" bawled Sirius, striking impotently behind him. This is my fault...this is all my fault...Peter, that stinking traitor...that coward...And then he was sobbing, tears streaming down his face so fast he hardly even noticed they were there. "Get off....me..." And over there, by the wall...a tumble of auburn hair, a slump of green dress...Lily...
Hagrid turned him forcibly about, still holding his arms fast to his sides. There were tears in his beetle-black eyes, but he was containing them somehow...Hagrid, who sniffled over dead birds and weddings, even he could be strong in the face of this death, and Sirius who laughed at misfortune and suffering and death was nothing better than an infant..."Get ahold of yerself, Sirius!"
"No!" sobbed Sirius, fists thudding uselessly over Hagrid's chest and shoulders, feet swinging a foot from the ground. "Get off me! Get off--"
"Sirius!" roared Hagrid, shaking him very sharply this time. "Enough!"
Startled into silence by the roughness of the giant's movements, Sirius dropped his hands to his sides.
"There, then," and Hagrid's voice dropped to rough gentleness. Sirius felt his feet touch the ground, and a moment later Hagrid had enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug and Sirius, still childlike, was crying into the broad chest--a puddle of tears and snot the same way he had been on the day his mother had died...
"I know, Sirius, I know," said Hagrid softly, patting his back.
"James," whispered Sirius, feeling a dull ache begin to pound in the back of his mind. "James is dead...and Lily...and Harry..."
"Not Harry," said Hagrid, and for the first time there was almost a smile in the rough voice. "Harry's alive, Sirius."
Sirius's eyes widened and he pulled away from Hagrid, staring at him with a rush of hope in his heart. "Harry's still alive?"
"Not only alive, but he's a hero," said Hagrid with gruff pride. "And You-Know-Who...he couldn't kill tha' little boy. He tried, but he couldn' do it." He shook his enormous, shaggy head in wonder. "And now he's gone."
"He's gone?" It was too much, it was all too much...
Hagrid nodded, still mystified. "I don' know how it happened...nobody does...but somehow, when he tried ter kill Harry, his...power broke somehow. He's gone, Sirius...and look at young Harry's forehead..."
He released Sirius and bent over the wall, picking up the small, swaddled bundle and handing it to its godfather.
Hands shaking, Sirius pulled back the fabric. Harry, with his shock of black hair so like his father's, his eyes, green and wide, so like his mothers...it almost broke Sirius, almost sent him to his knees, but he forced himself to stay upright.
Across the baby's forehead, right where the soft, thick hair fell, was a great long slash, bleeding and scorched around the edges. Sirius ran a finger over Harry's soft, snub nose; the child giggled and snatched at his godfather's hand, crying "Pazzie...Pazzie..."
"You've got to let me take care of him," said Sirius suddenly, feeling an overwhelming love for this child that was almost his own. "You've got to let me. I'm his godfather, Hagrid, Ani and I will raise him like our own..." Ani will raise him. I've got to take care of Peter. I'll kill him. And then I'll live with the consequences, as long as I can see him dead.
Hagrid was obviously tempted, but he reached over Sirius's hands and pulled Harry gently away from him, ignoring the child's indignant mewling and squirming at being separated from his friend. "I would, Sirius, yeh know I would...You an' Ani would be the best parents young Harry could ever 'ave. But Dumbledore...'The boy's to go to his uncle and aunt,' 'e says. Muggles, they are." Hagrid's eyes betrayed the disbelief he felt, but his utter trust in Dumbledore was obvious from the tone of his voice. "I don' know, Sirius, but I'd trust Dumbledore with me life. He's got ter have a reason ter do things this way. I'm to take Harry to Dumbledore straight off."
"But--you can't give him to Muggles!"
Hagrid sighed. "I know, Sirius, but what's to be done? Dumbledore's orders..."
"Hagrid--"
"I'm not goin' ter argue with yeh, Sirius. Dumbledore knows what 'e's doing. It's not my place to second-guess 'im."
"Yes," said Sirius expressionlessly, his stomach dropping in defeat. After he killed Peter, they'd never let him see Harry again...this was his last chance...
He leaned over and kissed his godson on the forehead, right above the gash. "You tell him I loved him, when he gets older," whispered Sirius, his voice almost cracking with despair. "You tell him I would have been a good godfather."
"What are you on about, Sirius?" asked Hagrid, perplexed.
"Promise me you'll tell him!" It was so stupid, so sentimental...but Harry had to know...
"Aye, I'll tell him if yeh like..."
Sirius stared up at him, and Hagrid nearly fell back at the hate in the normally laughing purple-black eyes. "And take my motorcycle to get Harry to Dumbledore...you'll take good care of her--it--won't you? I won't be needing it anymore, I don't think..." Hagrid started to protest, but Sirius silenced him with a glance. "Just...take it."
"Aye, I'll do that," said Hagrid in surprise. "Where're yeh going?"
"I have business to take care of," said Sirius, very softly. James might have recognized the look in his eyes, could he see it; it was the look he had worn on the night of the Willow incident, the dangerous blankness, the total lack of either mirth or sadness...
He turned to gaze at Harry. The boy was regarding him with eyes that were almost frightened, and "Pazzie?" faltered Harry, shrinking back into his swaddling clothes.
"So long, Spots," whispered Sirius, trying to smile, the effort making his head and jaw hurt. He touched his godson's head, almost as though blessing him, and Harry fell silent, the long-eyelashes resting softly on the fat baby-cheek. "You're going to look just like your father, you know."
"Pazzie," said Harry drowsily. "Pazzie doggie snuffle nose."
And then Sirius whirled and ran, pounding down the street at an impossibly fast pace..
"Good doggie," said Harry sleepily, waving at the night sky, right where Canis Major twinkled above his head. "Good doggie."
"Aye, good doggie," said Hagrid gently, hoisting Harry onto his shoulder.
*
Ani stared out her window, one hand resting on the gentle swell of her stomach. Sirius had told her that morning that he'd be going out to check on something work-related, but that had been four hours ago...she was starting to worry...maybe something was wrong. But he'd told her not to worry if he was late...
I should get dressed, she thought without much conviction. It's real morning now. But then again, it was Saturday, and maybe he would get back and bring her breakfast in bed...
The fire that was always lit in the grate flashed abruptly yellow--Dumbledore's color.
Ani sat up, the covers dropping off her body, and then, abruptly embarrassed, yanked them back up. "Ophelia here."
"Ophelia?" Dumbledore's voice, sounded both sharp and tired. "There's been an attack in Muggle London...Iago's dead. So are Romeo and Juliet."
The color drained from her face...it couldn't be true, there had to be a misunderstanding...she was automatically reaching for the clothes that always lay draped over the chair near the bed and tugging them on. "What...who..."
"I can't talk," said Dumbledore, and she realized that he even sounded sad. "You've got to get down there, now."
"I'm on it," said Anika grimly, hoping she wouldn't splinch herself in the process. They're wrong, I know they are, there's been a mistake...Lily and James couldn't be dead, they just couldn't be.
Sirius was their secret-keeper, and he'd never have let that happen.
*
Anika Apparated onto a scene of utter chaos. Blood stained the streets; people were screaming; the bodies of what seemed like hundreds of people lay scattered over the cobblestones, some of them moving slightly, others completely still.
She felt the deceptively gentle eddy of the River around her ankles. There was so much death here, so much...
"I don't believe people ever really die," said Lily softly, stroking Harry's downy head. "Anyway I don't think I shall ever die; can you imagine how furious James would be with me? I know I would absolutely kill him if he went and died without telling me."
"I'll try to let you know," said James, and he laughed, his eyes sparkling like stars as he looked at her, and the love he felt for her almost palpable in the air...
She felt the bile rising in her throat as she knelt beside the nearest corpse.
It was just a girl, no more than seventeen, pretty...only a Muggle, thought Anika in horror, innocent...this hadn't been her fault...she was so blameless, and she was dead, and her blue eyes still stared blankly at the sky, cruelly identical in shade.
A sharp pain clogged her throat as she closed the sunny eyes with one hand, dragging her gaze upward to see who could have been responsible for so much death.
Only about ten feet away from her, the street was cracked right through, a deep chasm breaking it straight in half, a chasm that ran clear down to the sewers. There were bright splashes of blood all around it, so bright they could hardly be real. And there, standing over the abyss with wand in one crimson-stained hand, staring into its depths with inscrutable eyes...
Sirius.
"No," whispered Anika, unable to believe what her eyes told her, refusing to believe it. And then her voice rose into a scream, denying the inevitable yes as he looked up and those hollow eyes, black in the strange shadows that the buildings cast over his sculptured face, met her own--"No! Noooo!"
There was something helpless in those eyes, beyond the simple matte-blank skeletal emptiness...something that pleaded with her, for a moment almost caught her. It triggered a sudden spasm of nausea; Anika screamed, tearing the black-opal ring from her finger so hard that it ripped a long gash in the skin and flinging it at the man she thought she loved, the one she'd thought had loved her. He was just using me...he...it was all a lie...
His eyes broke from hers, moving to the band that rolled to his feet and spun, with a silvery tinkle, into the chasm before his feet. And then he looked back up--a sudden, final movement of the head and spine, the corners of his mouth twitching convulsively. And he started to laugh, laugh until he was breathing in pained, ragged gasps and Anika could only hear the sound she'd used to love so much twisted and perverted, the smell of blood...the current tugged insistently at her ankles; she was too weak to resist it, and almost slipped, but something like hatred kept her breathing and she threw herself at him, screaming. But then there was a whoosh of air and someone Apparated in behind her, grabbing her arms and twisting them behind her. A worried voice--"That can't be young Donelan?"--and in her state she did not even recognize Cornelius Fudge's voice, the young incompetent from the Department of Magical Catastrophes. Her eyes were still swimming on Sirius, and then there were six armed men descending on him--and he was still laughing, his head thrown back, throat open to the sky, gulping in the cold November air.
"Take her," came Fudge's voice, and suddenly it was sharp and businesslike, and "Nooo!" screamed Anika, but there was a rush of wind in her ears and the scene dissolved.
*
The man sat in the corner of his cell, staring at the wall. Now and again, he started to laugh, a sound so utterly hopeless and grieving that it almost sounded like a howl.
In another cell, a woman shuddered, her whole body racked with sobs, her breath ragged and uneven. "Sirius," she whispered into the stone floor, and then she curled herself into a ball, nestling her head against her knees as the pain shot through her again.
The sun was setting on Azkaban; bloody fingers of light shot over the reddened sea, casting dark, blue-black shadows over the spiked walls and empty courtyards.
*
Remus stood in front of the desk, the hollows under his eyes more pronounced than ever before, but he held himself as tall as he could.
The official pulled a wand, tapped the quill lying on the desk, and muttered, "Transcripio." The stylus sprang to attention, skating across the paper. Upside-down, Remus could read: "Interrogation of Remus Lupin, November 3, 1981."
The official looked down at the papers spread in front of him, then up at Remus. "State your full name and occupation for the record."
"Remus John Lupin," said Remus expressionlessly. "Researcher and translator." The quill sketched furious lines across the parchment.
"Age?"
"Twenty-one."
The officer regarded him in obvious disbelief--but the Veritas potion held him, and despite how much older he looked, Remus could not be lying. "Place of residence?"
"Hogwarts castle, east wing."
"And you were a...friend...of Sirius Black and Anika Donelan?"
"Yes. I thought I was."
"I see." The man peered back down at his papers, and then suddenly shook his head, running his hands through his light hair, and let out a breath of wondering air. "Do you believe that Donelan and Black were working together against the Ministry and Dumbledore's alliance?"
"I find it...difficult...to accept, sir."
"But you do agree that Black was a spy for...You-Know-Who?"
The Veritas potion forced the answer past lips that were suddenly dry. "I...I think I have to."
"And you agree that Donelan and Black were quite inseparable? Real...soulmates?" The man chuckled darkly.
"Yes," whispered Remus. No....Ani couldn't have been... "But surely--there's no evidence that she--"
"Nothing but the evidence of her obvious connection to Black, evidence that cannot be ignored....They were engaged?"
"Yes."
"And living together?"
"Yes."
"But did she know of the Fidelius charm being performed?"
"We had agreed not to tell her. We knew there was someone tracing our movements, especially Lily's, and James's. Sirius flatly refused to believe that Anika was the spy..."
The officer pounced. "So he defended her?"
"Yes. He was all for telling her. It was Peter who convinced him not to let anyone know outside the five of us and Dumbledore..."
"Peter Pettigrew? The wizard Black killed?"
"Yes," confirmed Remus bleakly. Thinking about Peter, his kind round face and wide, innocent blue eyes, was painful.
"Do you believe she knew?"
"I believe Sirius would have told her. But I suppose I don't know Sirius as well as I...thought I did."
"I see," said the official again. He checked his notes. "You are a...a werewolf, Mr. Lupin?" and all of a sudden his voice was very cold, as though even under the influence of the Veritas potion Remus's word could not be trusted.
"Yes."
"So. So." The official glowered at him, and Remus found that he could not meet his gaze. "Finite Venenum."
Remus let out a breath of relief as the Veritas effects wore off, and managed, "What's--what's going to happen to Ani?"
"A month in Azkaban, no more, for questioning. As an accomplice, you understand. But there's very little evidence against her, so we probably won't be holding her for long."
"Can you--could you possibly tell me when she's released?"
The officer glowered at him. "We have a confidentiality policy on prisoner release. I'm sure you can appreciate why."
"Of course," said Remus hoarsely.
The man made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "You may go, Mr. Lupin."
But Remus was already gone, walking blindly out of the dark station into the night, ramming past celebrating wizards on the street, numb. And he was whirling through the clouds, past the moon and into the black expanses of space, up and up and up, away from the gray city that stretched out, caught between twilight and dawn, oblivious and unfeeling.