The Summer of the Phoenix

Chapter 35

"He's what?"

But Arthur Weasley's head was back in the fire before anyone could say more.

"It's true," Mr Weasley panted. "It's official, I've just seen the letter. Harry's done magic, there's no doubt about that, and they mean to expel him."

"And Dumbledore?" Moody asked urgently, turning sharply back to the fireplace.

"Is on his way. He'll be here any minute. I'll see what more I can learn." With a little pop, Arthur Weasley was gone again.

Sirius still stood thunderstruck. A thousand questions were forming in his mind. Expelled from Hogwarts? Harry? Because he'd done magic? But why? Was it something with his Muggle family? Had they driven him so mad that he'd lost his temper and turned his wand on them?

"Why would Harry do magic?" Kingsley Shacklebolt echoed his thoughts, his deep voice as calm and reasonable as ever. "He knows he's not allowed to, why would he - "

"Well, if he did, he did, but maybe if it's something minor, they'll just let him off with a warning," Lupin said, trying to sound confident.

"Let's wait what Dumbledore can do about it," Moody muttered.

Another pop announced the return of Arthur Weasley's head. "Dumbledore's here now," he reported. "Went straight to Amelia Bones's office, they're talking as we speak. It seems they were going to send a magical law enforcement patrol to Harry's home, but they've been called back."

"What would they do that for?" Moody growled.

"It said in the letter that they were going to destroy his wand."

"What? They can't do that!" Lupin exclaimed. "Are they mad? Just because of a bit of underage magic, destroy his wand?"

"It's all right," Mr Weasley said quickly. "They're not going, and I've sent Harry an owl telling him to stay inside and not to surrender his wand to anyone, of course."

"Arthur, what kind of magic did Harry do, did the letter say?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked. "Because if it's something small, it might -"

"Oh, but it wasn't anything small," Arthur Weasley said unhappily. "Harry conjured a Patronus."

There was a tense silence. The four wizards in the room turned away from the fire to look at each other, one by one realising the implications.

"But he wouldn't - " Lupin whispered, suddenly pale.

"Unless - " Moody muttered.

"No," said Kingsley, "it can't be. It can't be true."

"I'm afraid it is," said a strange voice from the door, hardly recognisable as Minerva McGonagall's. "We've just heard it all from Arabella Figg. It is true. Harry has indeed been attacked by - "

But Sirius didn't even need to hear it.

The room went dark before his eyes. A deadly cold swept over him, a horrible, paralyzing cold that made his insides turn to ice and his blood freeze in his veins, closing in on him, drowning all warmth, all light, all sound... all sound but a hollow, rasping breath, coming closer and closer, sensing him, feeling for him with slimy, rotting hands, groping for his throat... Sirius was swaying, struggling against the hands. He had to get away from them, he had to get away... The world was spinning around him, a whirling kaleidoscope of waves and flashes of light, a rush of sounds and voices, now closer, now further away, calling his name... his name.

"Sirius! Sirius! Can't you hear me?"

The room was coming back to light, but it was still spinning. There was a face floating in front of him now. Someone had grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Sirius, he's all right!" Remus Lupin was shouting. "He's at home, he's safe, he's all right! Harry's all right!"

Harry. The spinning stopped abruptly, and another face came into focus before Sirius's eyes, a face as white as the sheets, a lightning-bolt shaped scar burning on the forehead, and the eyes, Lily's eyes, blank and empty with shock. Harry. The blow had fallen, and Sirius hadn't been there to take it in Harry's stead as he had promised he would. It couldn't be, Harry couldn't be all right, he needed him, he had to go there, to protect him, to save him, to drive them off like Harry had once driven them off to save his life. Sirius felt warmth, life, return to his body, warm blood cursing through his veins again, driving out the cold, rising into his face, pounding in his ears, prickling under his skin. Why was he still standing here?

"I've got to go!" Sirius heard himself shout. "I've got to go to Harry, let go of me!" He tried to break free, fighting like mad to shake off the hands that were holding him. Why weren't they letting him? Why were they keeping him back? Didn't they understand? Didn't they care? They were all shouting at him now, to calm down, to be reasonable, but he wasn't listening. "Don't you understand?" he yelled, "don't you get it? I've got to do something, I've got to go!"

"But you can't!" Lupin yelled back even louder, still holding him with surprising strength, shaking him as if to wake a sleeper. "You can't go, you've got to stay here, you can't leave the house!"

"Yes I can!" He was sick of this, sick of being a prisoner, sick of people telling him what to do, what was best for him, best for Harry. "I'm sick of it, sick!" he yelled. "Now let me go!" And with an almighty wrench, he broke free from his friend's grip, stumbling backwards, off-balance for a moment. Lupin shot forward, but Sirius brought up his arm to ward him off. He would not let them stop him, not when Harry needed his help. Sirius caught Lupin square in the face with the back of his hand, and Lupin gave a yelp of pain, clutching his hand over his mouth.

"Now that's enough!" thundered a deep voice behind Sirius, and a strong hand grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him around so roughly he almost fell. Sirius caught a glimpse of Mad-Eye Moody's lopsided face, contorted with fury, and then something hard collided with his left cheekbone with such force that the impact knocked him backwards into the wall. Sirius landed on the stone floor in a heap, a sweet taste of blood in his mouth and his head throbbing with pain, the pain of a sudden shrill, cackling laughter on the air, a mad, triumphant screaming, boring into his brain.

"Someone stun him!" Moody roared over the infernal cackle.

"STUPEFY!" thundered another voice.

Sirius instinctively closed his eyes and raised his arm over his head, knowing full well that it wouldn't block the spell anyway. A red jet of light shot out of a wand and whizzed past him, and the mad laughter broke off from one second to the other.

There was a dead silence.

Sirius opened his eyes, surprised that he still could, turned over and found himself looking up at Alastor Moody standing over him, the tip of the old Auror's wand only inches away from Sirius's face.

"Now," Moody said icily, "not one more word. And don't move."

And that, finally, brought Sirius back to his senses. Where ever else the rest of his common sense had gone, he still had enough of it left to know that when you had Alastor Moody squaring up to you with his wand telling you not to move, you had better not.

Sirius stayed down on the floor where he was, swallowing blood, trying to steady his breathing, waiting for the pain to subside and for Moody to be satisfied that his orders were being obeyed. Moody glared at him for a while longer, then he lowered his wand and, giving Sirius a last disgusted look over his shoulder, turned and walked away.

Only then, Sirius pulled himself up into a sitting position. He put his back against the wall for support, his elbows on his knees and his face into his shaking hands, and wished fervently that the ground would open beneath him and swallow him whole.

"So," Minerva McGonagall's voice said in a grim business-like tone. "Perhaps we can discuss what is to be done now. Harry is no longer safe at his aunt and uncle's house. We must remove him to a safer place as soon as we can."

"It will take a while, though," Moody replied, calm again. "We've got to make sure the Ministry doesn't keep track of his movements. Then we've got to come up with something to keep his Muggle family from asking stupid questions and raising an alarm."

"We'd better wait for Albus to discuss this in detail," said Lupin, the words coming out slightly muffled.

"And in the meantime, we must make sure Harry's protected by someone with a wand twenty-four hours a day now," Moody continued. "One of us should always be there, until we can get him out. I'd better go straight away."

"I'll come with you," said Minerva McGonagall. "Albus will want to hear how things stand there now. Harry mustn't leave the house again, under any circumstances. Someone has to make sure he knows that, and understands."

"We'll take care of that," said Lupin, still in that strangely thick voice.

"And I'd better go and relieve Tonks," Kingsley Shacklebolt cut in. "As a matter of fact, I was supposed to be there half an hour ago."

"Right," Moody agreed. "Better keep your eyes open and your wand ready. The attack on Harry could have been a diversionary tactic. I suppose I'll see you in the morning. Oh, and someone make sure that idiot either pulls himself together now, or keeps out of our way."

Three pairs of footsteps crossed the room to the door and ascended the stairs to the hall. When they were gone, someone came walking over to where Sirius was sitting, and stood there waiting for him to look up.

"Go away," said Sirius hoarsely.

"No."

Sirius took his hands away from his face, looked up at Remus Lupin, and saw that his friend was smiling at him with very swollen lips.

It was more than painful. That, Sirius realised with a fierce stab of guilt, had been his more than pathetic way of repaying his friend for keeping a cool head when he had lost his own. It was Remus who had kept him out of trouble, who had done the thinking for both of them when Sirius had failed so miserably to do any of it at all. No, Sirius had not made a good job of looking after himself, and an even worse job of looking after Harry. It was Remus, too, who had saved Harry's life in the first place, by teaching him how to conjure a Patronus strong enough to chase off a hundred Dementors at once when it came to it. Remus had done everything for him and for Harry. And Sirius had found no better way of thanking him for it than hitting him in the face. How could his friend still bear to even look at him? And yet, there he was, and he was even smiling. There was nothing in the world that was harder to face than that bruised smile.

Sirius sank his forehead down on his arms. "Go away," he said again, this time almost pleadingly.

But Lupin didn't. "Come on," he said quietly, and held out his hand to pull Sirius to his feet.