Barriers Broken

Chapter Two

Their outlines blending into the dark, the circle of dark, hooded figures could be faintly made out. The atmosphere, prickled with foreboding, only enhanced their terror. A cool breeze grazed over them and did nothing to soothe the burning emblem on their arms.

Their leader had called upon them and they appeared. They were genuflected, one of the signs of their servile obedience.

He was standing in the centre of the circle, another reminder that he was the most tangible element that linked the men and women gathered here. He surveyed them with the utmost contempt. The oldest members knew that Voldemort was only protracting their unease. The more fanatical and newest followers were oblivious to the subtle signs of Voldemort's acrimonious wrath. Regulus Black kept his head bent slightly, just enough to appear like the respectful and dutiful servant. Bellatrix Lestrange was to his right, face plastered with a look of pure adoration that sickened him. The bitch will never learn, he thought nastily. A scream spilt the tense silence startling all of them.

Peter Pettigrew writhed on the floor as he caught the blast of Voldemort's spell.

Death Eaters stared straight ahead, like faceless and merciless wraiths. They all wore identical plastic and unfeeling expressions, knowing that one wrong move would only be their own demise. They all knew that Voldemort had been in an exceptionally foul mood these few weeks and their meetings now were only for the leader's reasons. Regulus's eyes betrayed nothing, as he took in the scene with almost a bored look on his chiselled features.

Voldemort towered over Peter predatorily with his wand raised and sneered at the look of pure terror on Peter's face. Peter was now steadily wasting away, he barely had strength to crawl or even scream. The skin on his face was now so thin; his skull was shining through in stark detail.

Just as Peter was about to accept his fate, Voldemort relinquished the spell and Peter's body took its normal form. He laid there biting back tears of frustration. He had almost been relieved, he actually thought he was going to die and leave the hell that was his life. He got up, the heat of humiliation causing him to look like an overgrown baby rat.

'Your work has been abysmal of late, Pettigrew. Need I remind you that my patience is not infinite?'

'No, Master, you are very merciful,' whispered Pettigrew lamely.

'What are the Potters up to?' stipulated Voldemort.

'They ha - have a baby boy, the Mud - Mudblood gave birth a month ago,' Peter whimpered.

'Inconsequential! Worthless scum! You do not want to test my patience! Where are they now? I ordered for their whereabouts.'

An invisible, rough hand pulled Peter's hair back. The sharp sting of the hair roots pulling made his eyes sting.

'I - I - I - I do not know, Dark King, I do not know ... yet.'

He was on the verge of crying.

He felt Voldemort's red eyes bore into his, prying his mind unceremoniously, trying to detect the lie. After a while, the spell relented and Peter felt the pull on his head give away. He practically whimpered in relief when Voldemort dismissed him, and he Dissaparated with feverish promises to find the Potter's residence.

Voldemort watched him and felt an odd restlessness. He looked around in irritation and hissed at his Death Eaters. Shoulders hunched, eyes betraying their fear, all scrambling to be part of glory they were too common to achieve themselves. Their incessant grovelling always appealed to his ego but at the same time disgusted him. They had no pride at all.

Regulus Black put everything he had to keep his mind clear, waiting for Voldemort to dismiss them.

'I want Dumbledore followed. I want to know what goes on in that damn Order. Black you will take care of your fool of a brother. I expect full details of their every plan.' In a fit of blazing anger, he considered incinerating all of them to ashes.

'Leave and wait for my call,' he hissed, anger licking his insides.

They did not need to be convinced. Had they been more astute and seen through the illusion that Voldemort lived in, they would have turned around and seen a vulnerable look about him. However, they did not. They left as quickly as they arrived, but with relief this time. Finally, alone, Voldemort mentally went over the last few days.

His unrest had been steadily growing, almost stripping him of his normal conceit. He had thought that bloody excuse of a wizard was near and was finally pre-empting him into an early war. He had placed several Death Eaters around Hogsmeade, waiting for the opportune moment to start this war. He even had several Dementors ready for The Kiss.

He had been surprised when he found out that Dumbledore was still at Hogwarts, wasting time with Mudbloods. He had immediately delved into his old spells he had learnt during those long years. Every one of them failed to give him a reason for this odd feeling. He tried using Occlumency against his Death Eaters to draw out the traitor. That revealed nothing. Completely nonplussed, he put several of them under various curses to torture them into a confession. That only left him with a group of followers who were now considering that their leader had finally gone mental and was thoroughly paranoid.

He walked around the mountain plateau, which was for now his lair. The afternoon sky was clouded and hinted of a blustery evening. He had bewitched the strange plateau so that prying eyes would see sharp jagged peaks rising hauntingly, forbidding any intruders. Instead, a smooth, flat terrain stretched out from between the two highest mountain peaks. The view overlooked for miles, a clear advantage for him. The idea of living near the majesty of Nature's work had appealed to his conceited nature.

He was the only wizard worthy enough to match the location.

It also showed him the daily hustle of Muggle life, which he stared at for long hours when no Death Eater was around. He turned away from the glimmering lights and houses in disgust and strode to pour over his spells. There will always be darker and less attainable parts of magick that needed to be mastered.

A wave of agonising pain caused him to crumple to his knees. His breath left him completely and he was quite helpless. It was the most intense pain he had ever felt in his life. Even the agony he had felt during his transformations long ago could not compare to this. The waves continued for what seemed like a lifetime, each time stronger and longer.

A young girl with long black hair was on the floor, green eyes screaming and mirroring his expression. As he gaped at her, Voldemort realised that she was looking right through him and at something over his shoulder. Before he could look behind him, the girl closed her eyes in surrender and passed out. The vision disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving Voldemort on the floor, breathless and thoughts full of a raven-haired girl.

At the same time, in the girl's bathroom, Yenene was sprawled on the floor, unconscious.

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(A few days later)

The tawny owl was beating his wings furiously against the windowpane. Udele Lovegood sighed and went to let the creature into the small kitchen. Nero gave a reproachful look to her, as if berating her for taking so long to let him in. He landed graciously on Udele's shoulder and dropped the letter into her waiting hands. He looked at her haughtily and, with a nip to her ear, flew to his cage. Oblivious, Udele was looking at the wax seal shaped like a phoenix.

With a certain amount of curiosity, Udele began to open Dumbledore's letter. She could only see a blank piece of parchment. She smiled and blew softly on the parchment and slowly, an unmistakable spidery writing was revealed line by line.

Dear Mrs Lovegood,

I hope that this letter finds in good health. I apologise deeply for the inconvenience, but it is of pivotal importance. I kindly request your service in a matter that I feel only your considerable talent and ingenuity would be needed. It involves the private tutorial of a new student. I think you will find her quite remarkable. I would be grateful for a quick reply as she is now residing at Hogwarts under the care of Madam Pomfrey.

I request of you not to mention this to anyone. There has been a dreadful outbreak of Follicitis among the house elves; they are looking quite adorable in various truly extravagant hairstyles. However, I have been told by the Head elf that the staff are miserable, and wish for immediate intervention. I rather like them; I am told that most of the hairstyles come from the Muggle 'punk and sixties' generation. I think that you would be an excellent witch to remedy their plight.

Please give my respects to your delightful husband (I enjoyed his editorial last issue, 'Aurors and Gum Disease at the Ministry of Magic: The real reason for their secrecy').

I will wait for your reply.

Your sincere friend,

Albus Dumbledore.

She folded the letter, and with another soft blow, the letter transfigured into a thin gold chain.

'Honey, we need to talk, the elves have Follicitis!' shouted Udele as she placed the chain around her neck.

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(That night)

The ancient book hit the wall and the beaten binders finally let go. Pages and pages of useless spells fluttered to the floor.

Well, useless for me anyway, thought Regulus bitterly. He raked his hand through his hair as if trying to banish his frustration.

Sitting down heavily in the chair, he allowed himself to stare into space. The cheap lamp was the only light brightening the dark room. He heard talking and laughing coming from the busy pub downstairs. He listened to that for a while and tried to make the sounds out; the cheerful slurs between friends, soft music and of glasses tinkling. He found an odd solace in listening to people going about their lives, safe and content. Free.

He sighed and picked the next book.

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James and Lily Potter were officially going crazy. Well, at least to Sirius Black they were. Both parents were now bent over a little baby boy, peering at a small little mark on his pink cheek. Harry was only a month old but he had an indulgent look about his small face. If he could talk, he would have said to Sirius, 'here we go again; it's just a scratch dammit! I have nails and my coordination is not up to par at the moment!'

'Do you think he is allergic to his cot?' suggested James, looking at Lily.

'OH! Maybe! Do you think we should change it?'

Sirius tried to be the good friend and not roll his eyes in exasperation. He was not an expert in babies, but even he could recognise a harmless scratch from an allergic reaction. He was used to James behaving like a fool; it was his inherent legacy. What amazed him though was how the levelheaded Lily Potter could turn into a quivering mass of irrational nerves where her son was concerned.

'It could be xepheritus; I read that in some baby health book. The treatment is really painful and you need to quarantine the patient.'

Lily was near tears and James had gone deathly pale.

In fact, xepheritus was an extremely rare disease that only affected babies exposed to a certain (increasingly rare) fungi that grew only in the Pyrenees.

Sirius shook his head and went to rescue his godson, who was now looking at him imploringly.

'Would you leave the little tyke alone? He is not allergic to his cot. He does not have the ... huh ... that thing you just said and you two are going to go out as planned and leave me to my godson! We have stuff to go over.'

Harry gurgled happily, as Sirius carefully picked him up in his arms. He tried to grab a lock of Sirius's hair, but kept missing it. He almost had a frown of concentration as he made for the lock of hair again. Sirius looked at him affectionately and kept giving him pointers.

By now, James and Lily had taken it for granted that their son and Sirius had a special connection, a bond beyond the godfather and godson relationship. Harry would be screaming to the high heavens, but a simple gesture from Sirius would calm him down or usually make the both of them giggle uncontrollably. Ever the insightful one, Lily had said that Harry was another version of James that Sirius could count as family and as a best friend.

'No, I think it is best if -'

'You two are going out as planned,' cut in Sirius interrupting Lily. 'You have been in this house way too long. Come on Harry, I have to tell about the time the Marauders put a polka dot tutu on Mrs Filch!'

He hefted Harry to face level and they both giggled absurdly.

'Sometimes I think he can actually understand you,' said Lily softly, touched beyond words at the scene between two of the most important people in her life.

'You sure, Padfoot?' James came behind Lily and massaged her shoulders absentmindedly. 'Are you sure Harry will be okay? You have the restaurant's phone number, don't you? And you know our names for this time -'

'Mr and Mrs Smith,' interrupted Sirius still playing with a gurgling Harry. 'Middle aged couple out for dinner at the 'Bon Appetit', the French restaurant over at Charing Cross.'

He looked at Harry sombrely and like a fashion guru recited, 'Lily will be wearing an awful magenta dress that clashes with her blond hair and the hat she wears should simply not be allowed in public. As for James, well he'll just look like he normally does: a total wreck!'

'Wanker.'

'James! Language please! Not in front of Harry!'

'Come on Lily, he is a baby! Prongs, we will go but I am taking the mirror with me to check in ok? We'll be back soon enough.'

'Ok,' conceded Lily hesitantly. 'I'll go change my hair. James, can you transfigure the dress into a different colour? Pink or beige would be good for blonde hair, don't you think? You two are no help with blending colours, Remus was -'

A silence fraught with anger and deep hurt settled over the room, making the air difficult to breathe.

James was clenching his hands so hard he felt sharps cuts into his palms. He was staring at an invisible spot on the floor as if keeping in check his volatile anger. A hard and bitter rage darkened the happy light in Sirius's face. Lily looked at everything except the two men.

Harry's hiccups cut the silence like a knife and gave everyone a much-needed distraction.

'I'll get his milk,' whispered Lily, desperate for fresh air.

It had been two months but the bitter sting of betrayal by a brother was only blunted. The shock and disbelief had subsided, as had the confusion. It was now replaced with anger and, although they loathed admitting it, a heart wrenching sadness. Remus Lupin, once a proud Marauder and their brother, had deceived them. He had forsaken their friendship to the one wizard they had thrice fought and defeated by a hair's breath. James and Sirius were brothers and would remain so. However, they both were keenly aware of the void that could never be filled by anyone other than their friend.

James and Lily disguised themselves with a different image this time. Leaving Harry was the hardest; both men had to resort to extremely convincing reasons as to why Lily needed to leave the house for a few hours.

Two months has passed since they were urged by Dumbledore to go into hiding in Muggle London. The couple were a sure target for Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. Therefore, instead of protecting their friends and fighting against this slow invasion, James and Lily were hiding away from everyone.

This was not how the couple had planned to spend their first years of marriage.

Lily had never begrudged the decision to become part of the Order, but being in hiding and watching her every movement was gruelling, with no respite in the near future. Both James and Sirius had seen the pale and haggard look that had crept over the months since Remus's betrayal and replaced Lily's usual cheerful countenance. She was also now spending every time with Harry as if it could be her last.

It broke James's heart every time.

Sirius held Harry in his arms, as if he were made of glass, and went to the door with the two parents. After she had pressed loads of kisses on her son, James and Sirius ushered a middle aged and blond Lily outside the door, and she slowly descended the stairs from their small apartment.

James turned to his son and kissed his forehead, staying there a bit longer to breathe in his baby scent. He straightened and fixed shining eyes on Sirius. They shared a look laden with meaning. Sirius smiled at his now sleeping godson and looked up to James with a fierce glint in his eyes.

'With my life, Prongs.'

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Lily and James walked down the street. James's hand automatically closed over Lily's hand. She held on and matched his slow pace, copying his casual manner.

James looked straight ahead but Lily knew that he had already scanned his surroundings and located the two Aurors, cleverly disguised as 'Big Issue' sellers. She had seen them the minute she had step out onto the street.

The detached atmosphere continued throughout dinner. The couple looked at each other over the romantic candlelight. They glanced away whenever their eyes met, refusing to acknowledge the wedge between them. They barely said anything to each other. It was almost a relief when they finished their main meal.

'Would you like to see our dessert menu?' asked the waiter.

The answer was undivided.

'No.'

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