In the Dark Lord's Service

"Chapter Five: Siriusly Wounded"

As the floor beneath his feet began to crumble, Sirius Black did not panic. Instead, he was clever enough to remember two important lessons from his classes at Hogwarts. One, he was able to quickly recall a defense charm that when done correctly, could create a "cushion" beneath the feet of a falling wizard. The second was the ancient knowledge that when in peril, witches and wizards could sometimes find themselves magically shielded from serious physical injury. Wrapping himself around the infant Harry, Sirius muttered his defense curse and prayed with every fiber of his being that Harry would be protected from the debris falling down around them. As the cottage collapsed upon itself, chunks of brick wall fell upon Sirius, and then bounced off, leaving only bruises or mild cuts. The two floated down to the ground floor as the floor gave out beneath them. When it was all over, Sirius' back was sore from taking the hits of debris and Harry was screaming in terror, but the two were still alive.

Sirius looked around, examining the damage done and trying to find the bodies of his murdered friends in the rubble. As he turned around towards the garden, he heard a laugh of triumph from the skies. Terrified that it was Lord Voldemort, Sirius freed his wand hand from his grasp of Harry and pointed his wand toward the full moon and stars above. Voldemort wasn't there, but Sirius did catch a glimpse of Pyrites flying into the woods on a broomstick. He grimaced and put his wand away. As he began to gently rock Harry, Sirius noticed a man's leg sticking out under a mound of rubble. James. Quickly, Sirius looked around the rest of the rubble, trying to find a trace of Lily. Sirius found her body crushed under bricks and the broken wooden slats of Harry's crib. Oddly enough, Harry once more began to cry loudly, as though he knew of Sirius' discovery and was suffering from the pain of it all.

As he tried to comfort the traumatized child, Sirius' voice shook with emotion and he, too, began to cry. "I'm so, so sorry, Harry. I'm sorry I failed your parents. I'm sorry I trusted Wormtail. I'm sorry I let Pyrites go. I'm sorry...I'm...that your...that James and Lily are dead." Those last words had been the most difficult for Sirius to speak, and had almost never come out. He was shocked-no, frozen with disbelief-that it had actually happened. It still seemed fuzzy and fake in his mind. Unfortunately, the debris, the smoke, and the crying infant in his arms made him realize the terrible truth of the loss. A child had been orphaned tonight, and that child was his godson. As alone and angry as Sirius felt, it was Harry's loss that filled him with the most despair and fury.

Sirius made a vow to his godson. "I promise you, Harry, that I will never fail you again. You will always be safe so long as you're in my charge. You will not grow up in fear of the Death Eaters or Lord Voldemort. You will be happy. I promise you, you will be happy! And I, I will do everything I can, until the day I die, to avenge the wrong done to you tonight. Wormtail will not go unpunished. Pyrites will not go unpunished. The Death Eaters will suffer for what they've done to you tonight, for what they've done to both of us. I promise, Harry. I promise."

Harry had finally quieted down. His eyes were red with tears and droopy with fatigue. Sirius once more surveyed the rubble and found, under a rock and a cracked lamp, a blanket. He gently bundled the blanket around his tired godson until he was certain Harry was as warm and comfy as he could be under the circumstances. Sirius then found a small, secure niche in the cottage's debris, located between the corpses of Harry's two parents. He carefully placed the yawning baby in the makeshift cradle, hoping it would protect Harry while he was gone.

Sirius stroked his godson's cheek, and sadly said, "Don't worry. I'll be right back. I've got work to do. Won't take long." Harry yawned once more and shut his eyes. Sirius said once more, "I'll be right back." With that, Sirius reluctantly left the side of his godson so that he could fulfill his promise, and bring justice to Antonio Pyrites.

* * * * * * * * * *

Pyrites happily let the chilled autumn wind rush through him as he swiftly soared above the woods surrounding Godric's Hollow. Even more thrilling than the sensation of flying through an inky blue night sky was the belief that he was finally free of fighting a war that had gone on far too long. He was no longer a servant of the Dark Lord, a figure who had controlled his life since childhood. For the first time since his mother had died, Antonio Pyrites felt free, safe, and most of all, happy. It wasn't a joyful happiness, but one of relief. Life would be different, now. Pyrites was certain of it.

Drunk in dizzy glory, Pyrites had shut himself off from the physical world around him. He did not notice when his leg brushed the tall top of a tree, nor did he feel the whiz of a passing flock of birds. Most of all, he never heard the roar of a motorized engine speedily approach him from behind.

Pyrites felt a sudden jerk on his broom. All velocity around him stopped, and he found himself struggling to stay on a bucking broomstick. He was swung over, sideways and around and soon found his silk gloved fingers slipping off the varnished handle. There was a brief second of confused chaos: Pyrites was reaching for the air around him and noticed nothing but the eerie silence of a cold Halloween night. Suddenly, he saw a huge, black rubber tire bound towards him. He screamed in pain as it slammed into his chest, pushing him faster to the earth below.

Everything happened so quickly. Pyrites was now lying in the middle of an unfamiliar forest. He spit out a mouthful of blood and moaned as he realized that he must have lost a tooth in the fall. Battered, bruised, and quite perturbed, Pyrites stood up just in time to see a massive motorbike fly out of the sky and land smoothly nearby. The sight of the man riding the motorbike caused Pyrites' heart to sink.

"But you-you're dead!" Pyrites cried in shock.

Sirius Black did not respond with a sarcastic or witty remark, as he probably would have done in his youth. Instead, he briskly pointed his wand at Pyrites and assuredly said, "Expelliarmus!"

Pyrites' own wand whipped out of its owner's pocket and flew to Sirius' ready hand. Although he was disarmed, Pyrites was not without determination. He summoned all strength and ran towards his cousin. Sirius stopped him with a hex, but only momentarily. Pyrites seized a rock and threw it at Sirius' head. In the time it took Sirius to dodge the rock, Pyrites had been able to tackle him like a panther would its lamer prey. But Sirius was not a lame sheep. He was a fierce warrior, stronger than Pyrites and better equipped. Sirius wrestled his cousin off of him and stood up. He quickly took Pyrites' wand in two hands and snapped it in half. Pyrites mouth fell open as Sirius threw the pieces on the ground. Sirius grabbed Pyrites by the nape and dragged him a few feet to a tree bordering a silvery brook. He slammed Pyrites' head against the trunk and placed his free hand around the defeated man's neck while he aimed his wand directly between Pyrites' two unblinking eyes.

Pyrites still had the gall to taunt him. "Go ahead, cousin. Kill me. From what I've seen, the Avada Kedavra curse is quite painless...one zap, and you're dead on the ground." Pyrites goaded Sirius on further. "At least, it didn't seem to hurt that prig, James Potter, very much."

With a scream of fury, Sirius punched Pyrites in the face. The blow had been so hard that Sirius had heard some of the bones in Pyrites' nose break.

Pyrites bowed over in pain, clutching his bleeding nose. "Tsk, tsk, tsk...that wasn't very nice, little Sirius. In fact, it was quite naughty."

"I'm glad, Antonio."

"What?"

Sirius cocked his head and said, "In fact, it gives me a brilliant idea. The way to destroy you is not with the Killing Curse. You said it yourself...it's all a bit too merciful."

Pyrites looked at Sirius warily. His young cousin had a fanatical glint in his eye that reminded him only too much of another Black, Bellatrix, before she unleashed a wave of pain and destruction. Sirius suddenly yanked Pyrites by the hair and held his wand to his victim's cheek.

"You don't deserve the honor of Avada Kedavra! You don't deserve the same fate as a great man like James! He and Lily died defending what they loved! They lived to keep things like love and compassion alive, while you set out to destroy them. Well, you've succeeded, Pyrites! They're gone! And with them, so is my love and my compassion! No, you won't die like them. I won't give you the sympathy. Bellacosamorpha!"

Sirius kicked Pyrites to the ground. Pyrites quickly turned around to face whatever spell Sirius had flung at him, only to shudder in surprise as he saw Sirius' wand finish transforming into a long, steel sword. He could not believe that Sirius could sink even that low.

"How barbaric...You're going to kill me with a sword? Like a muggle? With blood, sweat and violence?"

Sirius laughed bitterly. "Actually, no."

"They why the sword?" asked Pyrites.

"To do this." Without any other warning, Sirius swiftly slashed the sword across Pyrites face. Pyrites let out a scream of pain that seemed torn out of some tortured soul's worst nightmare. Sirius wanted to feel good, but he didn't. The sight of his older cousin crawling like a wounded deer towards the brook only left him with nausea. When Pyrites collapsed over the water, he sobbed out in disgust, clearly horrified by his own deformed reflection.

Sirius continued to hold the sword up towards Pyrites, still hunched over the brook and drowned in misery. "Now you run. You run back to your loathsome Death Eaters and tell them it's all over. Voldemort is no more. He's gone, and Harry Potter lives. The prophecy has come true and all your false delusions of grandeur are dead. It's over, Pyrites. No more plans. No more ploys. It's all over."

Pyrites rolled over to face his younger cousin. His face shone glossy blood red in the light of the full moon and froze Sirius to the core. Pyrites said, "You're right, Sirius. You're so right. It's all over, and yet, you're wrong about one last thing."

"What?"

"I have one more trick up my sleeve."

Pyrites struggled to raise himself back to his feet. Sirius stood en garde. Though his opponent was bloodied and unarmed, he had learned long ago to never underestimate Pyrites. There was moment of tension, marked by the sounds of the two men huffing their breath heavily. Then, Pyrites rallied all the strength left in his battered body with a cry of sheer agony and flung himself upon Sirius' sword, impaling himself upon the edge and ending his suffering and degradation.

Aghast, Sirius jumped back and pulled the sword from Pyrites' chest. While Pyrites crumbled to the ground with an eerie moan, Sirius' sword melted back into a simple wand. The blood of his cousin still stained his wand and dripped off it like batter off a spoon. Sirius was horrified. Had he become a murderer? Was he no different from Voldemort? He wasn't a murderer...no...Pyrites had committed suicide. Hadn't he?

Sirius washed his wand clean in the brook and then turned towards his beloved motorbike. It had always symbolized the freedom he had earned by leaving home and escaping the grim destiny of the Blacks. Now, he looked on the bike with reluctance. What good had it brought the world? What was his so-called freedom worth now? James and Lily were dead. Pyrites was dead. Each of these deaths was his fault. Even though he had not willed any of them, the blood was still all over his hands and he would willingly take responsibility for each death. Responsibility...

Sirius gasped as he remembered poor Harry, sleeping alone in the rubble of his destroyed home. He ran to the motorbike in a rush to return to the child. Harry was now Sirius' responsibility and Sirius would make certain that he kept all his promises to his infant godson. Even as he shook with guilt and fear for what had happened that night, Sirius felt a little hope in his heart that Harry was still alive and that by caring for Harry, he could perhaps be redeemed.