True Grey

Sirius hurried down the silent and abandoned streets, his steps coming even faster than his heartbeats. He hadn't slept in a day, but he had never felt less tired. He wound his way between houses and climbed over fences, taking shortcuts as confidently as though he was smelling his way towards his goal; it hardly mattered to him that he had only been there once before.

Sure enough, he rounded a corner and was immediately assaulted by a stench like old rubbish left out to bake in the sun.

"Disgusting," Sirius muttered, and pressed on.

After a few minutes of searching he found the tiny house in which he had woken more than a year ago. He took a deep breath and rapped hard on the door. While he waited for someone to answer, he glanced around nervously and rested his fingers on one of the holsters on his belt.

At last the door creaked open. The long barrel of a shotgun emerged from the crack, followed by the thin face of Wilkes. Judging from the fresh-looking gash that ran from his eye to his ear, he must have crossed Rosier again not long ago.

Wilkes's eyes widened at the sight of Sirius on his doorstep.

"I need to speak to Rosier," Sirius said, tightening his hold on the handle of his revolver.

Wilkes lowered the shotgun. He reached out with a grimy hand and pulled Sirius inside. He whispered excitedly, "You found our Keys?"

"Where's Rosier?"

"Sleeping," said Wilkes quickly. He pushed Sirius down into a straight-backed wooden chair in the tiny kitchen. "So keep your voice down, he'll be furious if we wake him."

Sirius doubted this, but thought it best not to argue, quite keen for the encounter to be as peaceful as possible.

"You found our Keys?" Wilkes repeated.

"I've kept my end of the bargain," Sirius said evasively. "Now it's time for you lot to do the same."

"What did he say we'd give you in return?"

"A ticket home. He said he could tell me how to get back through the veil. But I'm not that fussed if he's asleep--you can tell me, instead."

Wilkes snorted. "I don't know what you're playing at, Black. There's no way out of here. Believe me, if there were one, I'd have found it by now."

"Rosier said there is a way!"

"Sorry, Black, it can't be done."

"Maybe Rosier just knows more than you do?"

Wilkes considered this for a moment, and then replied, "I suppose it's possible. After all, his dad was one of the Dark Lord's first followers. I heard they were friends at Hogwarts, even. Maybe the Dark Lord taught him a secret or two--but I doubt it. Evan fancies himself more important than he really was."

Sirius said nothing. A sick feeling was starting to twist his stomach.

"What a pity," Wilkes said softly, but he did not look sorry at all. "Perhaps I can offer you something else in return for your services? A sandwich? A drink?"

He seized something from the countertop and held it out to Sirius. It was a glass of what looked like fermented pumpkin juice.

Sirius swore loudly, but his voice was overpowered by the sound of a gunshot. On impulse he dropped to the floor; but it was Wilkes who cried out in pain and clutched his leg, from which blood was streaming down to stain the already filthy carpet.

Sirius looked up, trembling against his will. Smoke dissipated from the mouth of a gun to reveal Rosier's face grinning at him from the doorway into the bathroom.

"Surprise," he said, and his smirk grew even wider. He stepped over Wilkes, who was moaning and cursing him as he writhed on the floor, and dropped into a seat opposite Sirius. "Well, if it isn't Sirius Black! I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about us! My, you look... older."

Sirius climbed back onto his own chair, heart still thumping wildly.

"So, Wilkes thinks I fancy myself more important than I really am," said Rosier conversationally. "I wonder, Black, whether you feel the same way?"

Before Sirius could answer, however, a faint noise from the hall made him start. In an instant both he and Rosier had guns trained on the source of the sound: Wyman, who had come to investigate the commotion.

"Ah. Good," said Rosier, lowering his weapon. "Wyman--make yourself useful and get this pathetic piece of shit out of my sight." He indicated Wilkes with a kick to the back of the head. "And stay away from here--I have business with Mr Black tonight."

Wyman hesitated only long enough to glare daggers at Rosier, before obeying him.

Rosier turned back to Sirius. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? Has your angelic brother turned the Key?"

Sirius hesitated, suddenly gripped by a powerful premonition. Now that he was in Rosier's presence, a deep sense of unease had settled in him; he found himself unwilling to part with this piece of information, his only bit of leverage and his only hope for success.

"No," he lied, "not yet."

Rosier's face darkened. "I see."

Sirius continued coldly, "Regulus warned me about you. Said I ought to get what I need from you, before giving you what you want."

Rosier laughed uproariously, and the nervous churning in Sirius's stomach gave way to a pulse of hatred that seemed to travel from his toes to the tips of his fingers.

"Said that, did he?" Rosier said, still snickering. "Warned you, did he? What a good boy. He always was... too good for his own good, in fact."

"Shut up," said Sirius, who was surprised to find his fists clenched around the edges of his seat.

Rosier raised an eyebrow. "What an unexpected conversion! To think, that you would ever come to his defence! Good, young, Regulus, who loved nothing more than to abuse his traitorous elder brother at length to anyone who would listen--"

"How dare you talk about him like that!" Sirius growled, leaning forward in his chair. "He may have died young but he was more of a man than you ever were! Did you even watch Voldemort kill him?"

"Did I watch the Dark Lord kill him?" repeated Rosier, his mouth spreading in a malevolent smile. "Of course not--I helped the Dark Lord kill him."

Sirius dove across the table and hit Rosier hard across the jaw; Rosier struck back, sending him crashing to the floor. Sirius swung his leg around, toppling both Rosier and his chair. As he fell through the air, Rosier grabbed hold of Sirius's hair and yanked down; Sirius shouted and retaliated with an elbow to Rosier's eye. The blow sent the Death Eater flying backwards, and he hit his head on the corner of the counter with a resounding crack.

Sirius crawled over to the dazed Rosier. Like Sirius, he had several guns in holsters dangling from his belt; Sirius groped for each one, and threw them across the room and out of harm's way. He withdrew a small switchknife from his own pocket and pressed it to Rosier's throat.

"Get out of it, Black," Rosier said as he came to. He was frowning, looking shrewdly at Sirius. "You won't kill me, not till you've got what you came for."

"Or, not till it's clear that you haven't even got what I came for," Sirius corrected him. "So I'd hurry up and tell me, if I were you."

"There is no hurry. Of course, I cannot die... right, Black?"

"Right," Sirius lied. "But that doesn't mean that a slit throat won't lay you up for a very long time. Just tell me how to get back through the veil, and I'll get Regulus to turn your bloody Key."

"Very well. Let's walk--I don't want those two twits listening in."

Sirius felt entirely in control of the situation as he guided Rosier out of his own house and into the street, lit only by a few flickering streetlamps. A cold wind blew from behind, tossing his hair into his face; in front of him, Rosier ambled slowly and aimlessly, arms crossed against the chill of the autumn air.

Emboldened by the knife still clenched in his fist and by the reassuring weight of many weapons under his robes, Sirius called ahead to Rosier, "The sooner you speak, the sooner you can leave this place!"

Rosier said nothing, but continued to wander away from the house until it was entirely out of sight.

Sirius followed him. "I said, speak!"

"You want me to speak?" said Rosier dangerously. He turned slowly to face Sirius. "I shall speak... once you tell me what's going on."

"What's going on?" repeated Sirius. "I think it's quite obvious--I'm waiting for you to tell me how to get back through the veil."

"Ah," sneered Rosier, "and am I supposed to believe the Brothers Black will be true to their word?"

"Of course. You've no reason to mistrust us."

"Hmm." Rosier breathed on his hands to warm them, and then thrust them into his pockets. He appeared to be deep in thought, and when he finally continued, it was as if every word was weighed and delicately placed in order. "You come from quite a noble family, Sirius Black."

"What about it?" said Sirius, perplexed.

"The Family Rosier, though not quite as ancient, is just as honourable. Perhaps even more so; it lacks the three great blemishes that have so tragically marred the name of Black in recent years: Sirius, the treacherous; Regulus, the cowardly; and your cousin, the blood traitor--what was her name?"

"Andromeda," said Sirius through clenched teeth.

"Yes, indeed, Andromeda Tonks. How lovely."

"What's your bloody point?" Sirius snarled.

"My bloody point, Black, is that very few can boast of purer blood than I."

He took another step towards Sirius, who eyed him warily, determined to betray neither his lie nor the fear that was rising slowly from the pit of his stomach. Rosier's behaviour was unfathomable; something seemed very wrong, indeed...

Rosier leaned in close, so that their faces were mere inches apart.

"Do you really think I didn't notice, the instant your pathetic brother turned the Key, when magic returned to my veins at last?" he hissed. "Do you really think I noticed nothing, after years of shameful existence like a filthy Squib, when the power of generations of ancestors was restored to my blood?"

"He turned it?" said Sirius quickly, to hide his disappointment at the news that his only piece of leverage was now worthless. "That's great! He must have done it without telling me. Well, now you don't have to worry about us going back on our word--"

"Liar," Rosier breathed. "You and that yellow-bellied rat you call a brother are up to something, I know you are!"

"What are you on about?" Sirius asked, though he thought he knew what was troubling him; but he could not, would not, tell Rosier the truth about the Sisyphean Keys.

Rosier muttered, "My blood is pure once again, it's true, but something else is amiss. Why, if the Key has been turned, were you able to hit and injure me? No resident of heaven has to feel pain, nor put up with any annoyance--you, for example--that he does not wish to suffer. Why, then, are you still here?"

Sirius replied with the first idea that came to mind. "Perhaps you've got to be within the boundaries of heaven, to get all the benefits."

"Perhaps," said Rosier, his stare colder than any Sirius had ever seen. "Or perhaps my Key has not been turned at all, but you and your snivelling brother aim to trick me!"

Sirius could tell from the fury in his voice what Rosier was about to do, and he scrambled to prevent it; but as he was still clutching his knife, he could not draw his wand before Rosier had Summoned it from his pocket. Sirius responded by drawing the Glock that Dearborn had lent him, and pointing it at Rosier's chest.

"Tell me how to get back through the veil," he said, both voice and hand shaking.

Rosier grinned; the sight of it made Sirius feel slightly ill.

"We had a deal! You promised to help me get back through the veil!"

Rosier pocketed Sirius's wand and whispered, with relish, "I lied."

Without hesitation Sirius fired at Rosier's stomach, but the bullets bounced off the Death Eater's Shield Charm, as harmless as pebbles. Rosier roared with laughter.

"Magic beats Muggles every time, Black!"

Rosier turned round and ran down the long alleyway. Sirius thundered after him, blood pounding in his ears; he fired again and again but Rosier, looking over his shoulder, easily deflected every bullet that flew towards his back.

"You might as well give up now, Black!" he called. "I don't know how you can get back through that bloody veil--I never knew!"

"We had a deal, you conniving bastard!" roared Sirius.

Rosier laughed again and crowed, "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater--even in death!"

He turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Sirius sprinted after him; but the first thing he saw when he turned his head was not his quarry's retreating back, but a jet of red light soaring from behind a skip, where Rosier was crouching and sneering at him.

The shocking truth hit him before the Stunning Spell did...

I've been outwitted and out-duelled by a Death Eater, again.

At least it's not green.

I've set Rosier loose in heaven, made Regulus forgive him, for no reason.

My only hope was never a hope at all.

I will never get back through the veil.

I've let Remus and Harry down--

He was spared from his torturous thoughts when the spell coursed through him at last. He heard his gun fall to the pavement with a clatter, saw Rosier walking away to freedom, before silent darkness enveloped him.