In Search of Sirius: The Land of the Living Dead

Chapter Eleven: Through the Mirror

Sirius stretched a disbelieving arm out towards Harry. The hand broke though the surface of the mirror and waggled in front of him. Next moment, Sirius' entire body had followed suit. It was like watching someone step through a waterfall.

"Harry!" he cried again. His grey eyes were dark with apprehension. "What are you doing here? You're not - Please tell me you're not! - "

"Dead?" Harry said with a breathless laugh. "No, not me. Just visiting. Sirius..is it really you this time? Last time I tried to hug you, you turned into a demon thing!"

Sirius gave his barking laugh, and flung back his long dark hair. It gleamed in glossy health. In fact, Harry had never seen him look so well. "Yes, it's me. Snuffles. Padfoot. Satisfied now?"

"Sirius." Harry beamed with satisfaction. Next moment, they were hugging each other fiercely. Harry felt tears welling up again, but this time in joy.

"Harry. It is so good to see you. But what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here, it's really dangerous."

But from the light in Sirius' eyes, Harry knew that really he was proud of his daring. It was an exploit worthy of the Marauders in their prime.

"So how are you?" Sirius stared intently into his face.

And then it all gushed out. Harry knew he really should save all this for later, that his friends and Snape outside would be getting anxious (well, perhaps not Snape), but he couldn't help himself. It had been so long since he had seen Sirius.

"Now listen to me," Sirius said. "I mean this, Harry. It was - not - your - fault. Get it?"

"But if I hadn't been tricked..."

Sirius shook him gently. "Then Voldemort would have found some other way to get you to the Department of Mysteries, and I would still have gone rushing after you and ignored anyone who told me otherwise. Or that toe-rag Kreacher would've found some other way to stuff me up. Look, Harry, I mean this. It was my choice. The biggest, the worst regret is that it meant I ended up leaving you. But it wasn't your fault, and I know I can trust Dumbledore and Lupin to look after you."

Harry smiled up at him, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. Sirius was going to be so pleased with the next bit! "But Sirius, it's all right, you don't have to leave me! The best part of it is, we can bring you back with us!"

Sirius looked cautious suddenly. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"Essence of Mag Mell, the potion that brought us here, we brought enough to take you back with us as well..."

The smiled faded on Harry's lips. Sirius did not appear suitably elated. In fact, he was rubbing his chin distractedly and looking at Harry with something oddly akin to pity on his face.

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Snape was pacing now, within the small circle of fire he had drawn. Occasionally he muttered under his breath. From time to time he glanced upwards, as though trying to read something in the heavens.

Ron and Hermione huddled next to each other. Time was marching on. Oh, for something to slow down time, Hermione thought desperately. But probably it wouldn't function properly in this place anyway. She had a suspicion that time worked quite differently here.

Snape's hooked nose was silhouetted against the flames. He turned towards them.

"It is time to leave, Weasley, Granger."

"But Harry -"

"We have had this conversation already, I believe."

Snape looked extremely forbidding. Ron and Hermione slowly got to their feet.

The expression on Snape's face turned to one of sheer exasperation. "And I am sure we have had this conversation already as well. Stop pointing your puny little wands at me!"

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Sirius was compassionate.

"It wouldn't work, Harry," he said quietly. "No, Harry, don't look at me like that. It won't work. Really." He gripped Harry's shoulder. "You see, Harry, I am not part of the mortal living world any longer. I can't go back, not like this, not with a potion. On the other hand, I'm not part of the mortal world of death either. I am here in Mag Mell, and this is not a proper place for us. Can't you tell? Every bone of this land resists our presence."

Harry was dismayed. It was as though Dudley Dursley had punched him, hard, in the stomach. "But - but - "

"Now," said Sirius, to distract him. "Tell me all about how you got here."

Harry obeyed. Part of his mind continued to run painfully on the fact that he wouldn't be taking Sirius back with him after all. But he was with him here, and now, and he had to make the most of it.

Sirius listened seriously to all Harry had to say. A frown was gathering on his face.

"You mean you've been sitting here with me all this time, Harry, when Lord Voldemort could be coming back any minute?"

"Er - " Harry was abashed.

"And, Harry. What you said about Snape.. I can't believe he used Avada on you, the greasy-haired git!"

Harry twitched uncomfortably. "He was trying to save us, Sirius. Voldemort was following him around so he didn't have a whole lot of choice..and he did save us from the Bane Birds as well, twice..."

Sirius looked mutinous. "I don't care. There is always more going on with Snivellus Snape than meets the eye. Don't trust him, Harry, understand?"

This advice was so exactly in line with Harry's natural inclinations that he had no trouble at all nodding his head and taking Sirius' words to heart.

"And another thing," Sirius continued darkly, warming to his theme, "why did Snape let you come here? And all on your own, as well?"

"Hermione convinced him - she said he owed us, and this was Mag Mell, so he had to pay."

"Won't wash," Sirius said shortly. "Interactions between mortals aren't subject to the same rules. Snivellus must have had his own reasons. I don't like this, Harry. I don't like it at all. Listen, talk to Lupin about it when you get back, OK? It's the one thing Dumebledore just has this real blind spot about - he will persist in thinking he can trust Snape."

Sirius shook himself. "Never mind. We don't want to spend our time together talking about oily old Snivelly. In fact, Harry.. I really think we'd better see about getting you back."

Sirius grinned at him, but Harry knew Sirius too well. The cheer on his face was just that little bit too forced. His Godfather didn't really want him to go.

He remembered the previous scene in the mirror, which had (he thought achingly) obviously been just a mirage. And yet, it had reminded him of something, something that woman (?) on the shore had said.

"I could stay with you," he said abruptly. "I could eat something. I'd be stuck here then, wouldn't I?"

"Harry." Sirius rumpled Harry's black hair. "You know you couldn't do that, right?"

Harry did know. He looked at his feet, and kicked a random stone out of the way.

"Besides," Sirius went on. Harry shot him a quick look. The glint of mischief was back in Sirius' voice. "You don't think I'm planning on just sitting here, do you?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. His hopes began to soar again.

Sirius considered him thoughtfully. "I really shouldn't tell you this. But when did I ever let that stop me, eh? Poor old Molly," he added affectionately. Harry was reminded of all the times in 12, Grimmauld Place when Mrs Weasley had attempted, ineffectually, to stop Sirius telling him of matters she considered too dangerous or disturbing for him, Hermione and Ron to know.

"OK, Harry, this is how I see it." Sirius was guiding Harry towards a walled garden not far away. "This isn't a good place for me to be. Oh, it's a marvellous place in its way. This is Tir na nOg, did you realize that?" (Harry hadn't. He filed the name away until he could consult with Hermione.) "That's the Land of Youth. Elysium, it's called sometimes. But it's a faerie realm, Harry. Mortals don't really fit. It's like - "

Sirius paused thoughtfully and regarded the sky.

"This is a place of ancient, heavy magic. It runs deeper than worlds. It's as if a bird had got trapped in the old, gnarled roots of a tree instead of up where it belonged, in the branches.."

They were entering the walled garden now. The air was heady with the scent of herbs and flowers.

"So what are you going to do?" Harry asked, fascinated.

"Do? One of two things! I'm just resting up a bit, and then I'll be on my way. Either I'll find my way to the mortal resting place, and join Lily and James at last, or -"

"What? Or what?"

"Or I'll find the Cauldron of Bran." Sirius' eyes gleamed. "And then, Harry, it's you I'll be coming back to. Because the Cauldron of Bran restores the dead to mortal life."

They were standing now before a door set in crumbling old stones. It was weathered and mossy, and its latch was encrusted with lichens.

Harry and Sirius looked at each other. "OK, "Sirius said gruffly. "This is what you need to do, right? I'll open this door, and you must think really hard of your mates and the Valley of the Palace of Bones. That'll get you back to Ron and Hermione, and" (Sirius tried to suppress a grimace, but didn't really manage it) "to Snape."

"You need to go now, Harry," Sirius said gently. His eyes were glistening, as well as Harry's.

He opened the door. Harry looked through. All he saw was a swirling mass of grey matter, flecked with impossible colours.

"Remember," Sirius said sharply. "Take your mind off me. You need to concentrate on where you're going. And Harry, don't come back. It really is too dangerous with Voldemort's shade floating around. Besides -"

Harry took one last, longing look at his Godfather. Sirius was laughing now, a new energy vibrating in his body.

"Besides," Sirius went on. "I may not be here. I'm off - as Dumbledore puts it - on the next great adventure!"

That was the last thing Harry heard as he stepped through the door. The Valley of the Palace of Bones, he muttered to himself. The Valley of the Palace of Bones.

He was there! He blinked in the darkness while his eyes readjusted themselves. Now, where were his friends?

He was there! He blinked in the darkness while his eyes readjusted themselves. Now, where were his friends?

"OI!" he suddenly yelled indignantly. "WAIT FOR ME!"

Chapter Twelve: You May Not Pass

Ron and Hermione swung around in relief. They had been advancing purposefully up the valley side, wands out before them.

"It's OK, Harry," Hermione said composedly. "We weren't leaving."

Harry absorbed the scene in front of him. Ron and Hermione had been stalking up the slope, wands raised threateningly. Snape lay flat on his back some distance away looking as furious as Harry had ever seen him. Harry guessed he had been hit, hard, by two violently delivered expelliarmus curses.

"Here." Hermione tossed Snape's wand back over to him, and he scrambled to his feet with a menacing noise in his throat.

Harry blinked. Had he really just seen Hermione, coolly, calmly, take on Snape? A teacher?

It seemed so.

Snape recovered his poise quickly, although he still looked extremely annoyed.

"Very entertaining, Weasley, Granger. You will not make Aurors, you know, if you persist in letting your emotions overrule your judgement. You will hear more of this later, I can assure you. However, now Potter has deigned to rejoin us, the most important thing is to depart. As fast as we may."

Hermione and Ron had lost interest in Snape, however, and were looking at Harry anxiously. "Er - Sirius - ?" Ron tried tentatively.

Harry shook his head. "Couldn't bring him with me," he said flatly. "But I spoke to him, I'll tell you later. For now - we really do have to get out of here."

Snape cast his eyes towards the heavens. "Potter finally shows a glimmering of sense," he muttered under his breath. "We will need a speed spell," he told them. "And, we will - ah - need to hold onto each other."

Snape regarded them with curling lip and an expression of the utmost repugnance. He was clearly considering which one of them he could best cope with actually touching. Finally, with the manner of one picking up a man-eating spider in his bare hands, he grabbed Hermione's arm. Ron took hold of her as well, and Harry hung on to Ron.

The speed spell was dizzying. "Think - of - shore!" they heard Snape telling them repeatedly through the rushing winds and choking mists.

They did. The journey was swift, but not swift enough, and nor was it pleasant. At last (at long last, as Ron said bitterly) they flopped down on the beach gasping for breath, and feeling as if they had just been smothered by barrel-loads of wet fish.

The shore was just as it had been when they arrived. The wet sands shone silver in the metallic light, and the sea roiled darkly. There was no sign of the kelpies.

"You may now drink your potions," instructed Snape, fetching his own from under his robes.

They each drew out their bottles and all four swallowed what remained of the Essence of Mag Mell. Harry was subconsciously filling his lungs with air prior to his immersion.

This time, though, they were not plunged into the waters. Instead, the air some metres in front of them began to swirl. Round and round it went, faster and faster, until a churning vortex hung before them. Harry looked at it sideways, and could have sworn strange beings were darting about within it like silvery eels.

"We had better keep in contact with each other again when we go through," Snape said reluctantly.

They rose and approached the vortex. Before they were within six metres of it, the tall, cloaked figure they had seen before shimmered into existence in front of them. It raised its head to confront them with the shrouded depths beneath its hood, and it spread its arms to bar their passage.

"You may pass," it said to Snape, "but these three may not."

The being's voice flowed towards them, cold and dispassionate as liquid ice.

"What do you mean?" Snape demanded, his eyes hard.

"They may not pass."

She, or he, or it, said nothing more. Its silence had the implacability of a glacier.

Snape turned to Harry, Hermione and Ron. "Did you," he demanded softly, "did you by chance eat or drink anything from this place?"

They shook their heads. "No really, Professor Snape," Hermione assured him earnestly. "We didn't, not even when we were really thirsty. We didn't even use wands to conjure drinking water in case it would turn out actually have come from here."

Snape seemed marginally soothed by their response. "Did you then - did you take anything from this realm that was neither freely given nor paid for?"

Again, they shook their heads. Hermione, however, let out a sudden gasp; she clapped a hand to her mouth. Ron and Harry looked at her in puzzlement.

Snape put a hand to his brow and closed his eyes. His fingers trembled slightly.

"Even for you," he said to them in a low, even, tone, "whatever you have done, it was an act of quite staggering stupidity! Do you not understand? This realm abides by the old laws. It is a place of blood magic, of sacrificial magic. Have you never read any of the ancient tales? Did it never enter your heads to wonder why this place is considered so dangerous?"

Hermione (of course) remembered very well what Snape was referring to: ". . . what you take but do not pay for, you will forfeit in the sacrifice of your living flesh". She did not like the sound of this: at all.

Snape turned to the being.

"State the nature of the debt. If," he added rather bitterly, "by so doing, you do not decide we have incurred yet another debt."

"It is permitted to tell you of these things." The voice remained devoid of anything resembling emotion. It was pitiless as the stars. "There is one matter before us."

"What?" Snape folded his arms and glowered.

"It is a matter of advice given. Upon your entry into this place," it addressed Harry, Hermione and Ron, "you asked me how to find the one you sought. I told you."

"But," Harry stammered in indignation," I didn't realize! I didn't know! You never said!"

"You had been told the rules of this place, mortal one. And those rules were in fact, given to you freely: there was no onus on me to tell you of them. And now.. I choose to make my claim. It is long since we have had mortal flesh for the ancient Sacrifice."

"Why," Snape was hissing at them under his breath, "can you never do as you are told!"

The being raised its silvery arms towards the skies. A weighing scale appeared before them. One side of the balance pans was heavily weighted down with a dark, pulsating mass. Curiously, this dark mass seemed to be composed of emptiness itself. It put Hermione in mind of the essence of the void.

"See," it whispered fluidly. "This is what you owe to us."

It folded its arms and gazed into the distance.

"And what," Snape demanded, "would you estimate this debt to be worth in weight of human flesh?"

It assessed the scales. "A leg from one of these children here should suffice. You may choose amongst yourselves as to which. It matters not to us." The gleaming figure might as well have demanded a handkerchief, or a spare pencil, for all the feeling in its words. "Or, if you prefer, you may offer your arm instead. It is not your debt, but we would accept it from you in lieu."

From the look on Snape's face, Harry guessed this option was not high on his list of priorities.

"Well," Ron said to Harry in a sickly voice, "Madam Pomfrey is really good, isn't she? Not much she can't heal! And, and there's always St. Mungo's!"

Harry had a suspicion that regrowing entire limbs lost in this fashion might be beyond even magical healing abilities. Otherwise, so many of the Aurors would not still bear such deep scars of conflict. His thoughts flicked to Mad-Eye.

"Take my leg!" he blurted out, before he could spend too much time considering the consequences of what he was saying. Snape was regarding him strangely again. "It's all my fault; no-one would even be here if it weren't for me! So take it from me." Almost, in the corner of his eyes, he could see three snake-haired women with bleeding eyes.

"As you wish." The figure shrugged, indifferent. It stretched out a hand. A long silver blade began to coalesce from the silver mists. "Lie down. It will be easier to attain a clean stroke."

At least it looks sharp, Harry thought miserably, bracing himself. And he'd still be alive, it could have been worse. Harry's knees were trembling so much that he sank to the sands almost with relief. His heart was thudding against the walls of his chest.

It all happened very quickly. Harry did not have time to dread what was about to come. Snape had only just begun to extend his hand as if in protest, and Ron and Hermione to exclaim in horror. Then, abruptly, it was already over. They stood frozen. Harry thrashed and jerked on the sands, blood gushing from his upper thigh, uttering thin and incoherent screams. Hermione was pressing her fist hard against her mouth, and Ron was absolutely white beneath his freckles.

The ball of emptiness drifted out from the scales. These now hovered in perfect balance. Snape sank swiftly to his knees besides Harry and started muttering charms to stem the spouts of blood. Like Ron and Hermione, he looked quite ill.

"I have this correctly, don't I," Hermione spoke up shrilly. Everyone turned to look at her in surprise. "Everything has its price, right? For whatever is taken, payment must be made?"

"That is correct," the figure said, almost absently. It looked at Harry, and stretched out a hand to pick up his leg.

Hermione was speaking again.

"Then," she proclaimed with an odd note of triumph in her voice, "you may take your pounds of flesh, but with it, not one drop of blood!"

Everybody froze. The figure paused in the very act of gathering up Harry's leg.

"In fact," Hermione continued; her voice was quavering, but she drove on with determination, "you are in our debt now. You have wronged us. You have taken from us something you are not entitled to. Harry's leg, that is: not only flesh, but also blood and bone. We want payment."

The being lowered its sword. "And what payment would you seek for this supposed error?"

Hermione smiled grimly. "Heal him. Return his leg."

The being made no reply. Merely it knelt by Harry's side, and rejoined his leg to his body. To Harry it was as if he could feel flesh and bone and sinew putting out new tendrils and twining together. It was a peculiar sensation, but it did not hurt. The pain vanished as swiftly as it had been inflicted. He lay flat, shock rendering him immobile.

"Pass, then," the being breathed. "Debts have been paid. You may pass."

The figure dissolved.

Harry managed to sit up, and found Hermione had flung herself down beside him to hug him fiercely. He grinned shakily at her.

"All better, Potter?" Snape inquired. His hands were entwined in his robes as if to hide the fact that they were still trembling.

Harry nodded, and proved the truth of it by getting to his feet. He still felt very wobbly indeed, but his leg seemed just as it always had done.

"Hermione," breathed Ron. "How brilliant are you! How did you think of that?"

"Shakespeare. It's how Portia gets Antonio off in A Merchant of Venice." Hermione smiled modestly. "It's a very well-known story."

"Whew."

Ron shook his head in awe. Even Snape was looking at Hermione with something approximating to approval.

"And now, let us finally depart before the Gate closes."

Holding on to one another, one by one they stepped through the vortex.