Secret Keeper

Chapter Five:

October 26, 1981

James Potter sat at the table in his dining room, drinking a cup of morning coffee and anxiously leafing through the Daily Prophet. Ever since the events of last night, he had been extremely nervous about Sirius’ safety.

“Anything interesting, dear?” Lily queried.

James shook his head. “Don’t think anything major happened. Either that or the Ministry is doing a good job covering it up, because the news seems fairly normal to me.”

Lily nodded. “Good. I was worried about Sirius.” She had just voiced James’ unspoken concerns.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” James said soothingly. “He can take care of himself, knows more hexes and spells than anyone,” he added, although it seemed that this was to reassure himself more than anyone else.

“You’re right, he’s probably laying in bed sleeping, or thinking of new ways to terrify young children,” Lily said jokingly.

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted as the flames in the fireplace erupted into a bright emerald green. Lily and James both stared. They weren’t expecting any visitors today, and certainly not at this hour. They looked on apprehensively as a revolving figure appeared in the fire. Who could this be? James shot Lily a questioning glance as the figure began to emerge from the flames. Lily merely shrugged back and looked just as bewildered as James was.

A man stepped out of the fire.

It was Snape.

“What the hell are you doing in my-” James began, but Snape cut him off.

“Is Black here?” he said tensely.

James was dumbstruck; this was not what he had been expecting at all. “What?”

“Is Sirius Black here?”

Even more confused, James could only shake his head. On his right, he could see Lily’s face out of the corner of his eye. She had an equally puzzled look on her face.

“Oh sh-” Snape cursed under his breath; then, with a pop, he stepped back into the fire and disappeared just as suddenly as he had come.

“What was that about?” Lily asked nervously.

“No clue,” James replied. He was still staring at the fireplace; why would Snape come to the Potters’ house looking for Sirius Black? James had just begun to ponder this when the shape reappeared in their fireplace. James groaned. Severus Snape was definitely one person he did not need to see twice in one morning.

However, this time, it was Dumbledore.

The old wizard emerged from the fireplace, one of the many to do so within the past few days, and brushed ashes and dirt off his robes. He raised his head and looked at Lily and James Potter; there was none of the usual twinkle in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth were turned down in a most uncharacteristic frown. He glanced at the couple silently for a moment before speaking.

“Severus has just informed me that Sirius isn’t here with you, is that right?” Dumbledore asked, a note of anxiety in his voice.

Lily frowned. “Why would he be here? Didn’t Sirius tell you he was staying at a Muggle place?”

This was obviously not what Dumbledore wanted to hear. The frown on his face deepened and his eyebrows furrowed. “I see. Has he had any contact with you since he left here yesterday?”

“Nope,” replied James. “Yesterday afternoon was the last time we heard from him. Why?”

“Oh my.” Dumbledore sighed deeply. “Then it is him...”

“What?” asked James urgently. “What’s him? What’s happened?”

“Have you two been keeping up with the news, James?”

“Yes, of course,” James replied, gesturing toward the copy of the Daily Prophet lying abandoned on the table. “I alw-”

“Ah yes, but this particular incident was not reported in the papers,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Apparently neither of you has been informed. Well then, I suggest the two of you sit down.”

“What is it?” Lily asked tensely. “Has something happened to Sirius?”

Dumbledore sighed. “This morning, when I was speaking to the Minister of Mgaic, he told me quite an interesting story.” He took a deep breath. “It so happens that last night, the Improper Use of Magic Office had, er, quite an interesting and highly unusual case. A violation of the International Statute of Secrecy. Apparently, a Muggle, an old lady, was bathing her cat when she saw something very interesting out of her bathroom window.”

James felt his shoulders tense. Did this have anything to do with Sirius?

“According to her,” Dumbledore said, “there was a man fitting Sirius’ description climbing on the roof of the house. He was apparently being followed by three unidentified people. She said that they seemed to be shooting bright jets of light at this man. She also claims to have seen the man fall off the roof.” Here, he paused.

“And?” James asked sharply. “What happened to the man?” What does this have to do with Sirius? The man could have been anybody.

Dumbledore looked at him closely through his half-moon spectacles before beginning again. “She – she says she left her house and went down to check on the man and send him to the hospital. But, when she got there, no body was found. The three unidentified people had also disappeared.” He drew in a sharp breath. “The only things she found at the scene were a pair of sunglasses and an item she described as a ‘polished, pointy stick.’”

“Oh no,” Lily gasped. “Where was this, Professor?”

Dumbledore bowed his head. “I believe the woman was a resident of number five, Chester Lane.”

“Damn,” James whispered. It had to be Sirius. It couldn’t have been anybody else. The sunglasses – those were the same sunglasses that he had been wearing yesterday at the Potters’ house. And the stick – his wand...

“We’re not absolutely sure that this man was Sirius, James,” Dumbledore said gently. “We’re still working to confirm this.”

James shook his head. “No... no, it couldn’t be anyone else, Professor. Sirius was wearing sunglasses that day, those sunglasses were his. And his... his wand... my God,” James said, his voice hoarse and dry.

Lily reached out and grabbed her husband’s hand.

“Do you have any idea where he might be now, Professor?”

Dumbledore looked at her sadly, shaking his head. “I only wish we did...”

Sirius, James thought desperately, Sirius, where are you?

Sirius Black had just begun to awaken. A dense swirling fog seemed to be covering his eyes; he couldn’t see anything beyond the black veil of smoke that seemed to be obscuring his vision. A sharp pain shot through the back of his head.

He shook his head a few times to clear his mind; he wasn’t seeing right, he wasn’t thinking clearly. Christ, he thought, where the hell am I? And what am I doing lying on the ground?

“Ah, Mr. Black, nice to see that you are finally awake.”

The cold hissing voice brought Sirius back to his senses. Voldemort. He wiggled, tried to move, but soon realized in horror that he was unable to. He had been bound. Thin black ropes cut into his flesh as he squirmed in vain, attempting to stand.

“I would advise you not to try to stand up, Black.” The high cold voice was speaking to him again. “You will only hurt yourself,” Voldemort added, a note of cruel amusement in his voice.

Sirius tilted his head up, trying to look his captor in the eye, but the bonds around his arms and shoulders prevented his head from rising more than a few inches off the ground.

“Well, Black, now that you are here, you might as well begin by cooperating,” Voldemort said, a slight sneer curling around his mouth. “For starters, why don’t you tell me exactly where your dear friend James Potter is hiding? I would love to hear it, especially from you.”

Sirius spat on the ground. “And what makes you think I’ll ever tell you that?” he hissed. “You can go to hell for all I care!”

“You won’t tell me.” Voldemort raised an eyebrow. “So, is that a ‘no’?”

“That’s a ‘hell no’!”

Voldemort shook his head, a terrible smile beginning to creep on to his face. “A ‘hell no,’ Mr. Black? Perhaps you need a bit of... persuasion?” His red eyes glittered dangerously. Raising his wand in his right hand, he pointed it at Sirius and shouted “Crucio!”

It was pain, a horrible pain unlike anything Sirius had ever felt before. It was as if his very insides were on fire, his bones seemed like they were burning, his skin felt as if it were being pierced by thousands of sharp needles. With every jerking motion his body made, it felt as if a long dagger was being plunged into whatever body part it was that had moved. The pain consumed his entire body, but he didn’t scream, he wouldn’t scream. He wouldn’t give Voldemort the satisfaction of knowing that he had made him scream...

Voldemort lifted his wand. The pain stopped.

Sirius laid on his side, gasping for breath, his body still aching from the Cruciatius Curse. He tasted the coppery tang of blood filling his mouth, and realized was it was. He had bitten his tongue in order to keep from screaming.

“What is your answer now, Black? I trust it will be more well-thought-out this time?” He smiled nastily.

“My – answer-” Sirius gasped for air, “- is – the – same – as it – always – was...” He spoke as if every word that left his mouth was costing him great effort and causing him great pain. “I won’t – betray – th-them...”

“Still haven’t learned, have you, Mr. Black? I’ll give you another chance to reconsider, shall I? Tell me where the Potters are. Tell me, and I will spare your life. There is nothing that I want from you, save the information that you possess.”

“Never!” Sirius spat. “Who the hell do you think I am?” His voice quavered slightly, but was strong and resonant.

“I think you are a fool, Black,” Voldemort remarked amusedly. “So unlike your brother, I see... but then, he was a fool, too...”

“Regulus Black was not my brother,” Sirius said through gritted teeth. “They were not my family. I hated them.”

“Well now, Black, that’s hardly a kind way to speak of your relatives,” Voldemort said with relish. “Why, your dear cousin Bellatrix is here too; in fact, she’s watching us as we speak, right over there.” He gestured toward a dark corner where several Death Eaters stood, watching. Sirius’ eyes narrowed.

“I do not consider her to be any relation of mine,” Sirius said bitterly.

“A most interesting outlook you have, Black,” Voldemort remarked. “But then again, we are not here to discuss your views on life, as interesting as they may be... I want to know something that you know, and I will ask one more time, where are Lily and James Potter?”

“And I will tell you one more time, you can go to hell.”

“If you insist then,” Voldemort said airily. “It was your choice...” And again, he raised his wand.

“Crucio!”

And again, the terribly pain engulfed Sirius’ body... this time, it was unbearable... he wanted it to stop, anything to make it end... Sirius wanted nothing more in the world than to die, to die right here and be out of this misery... his head felt as if it would split open any second now... and again, it ended.

“Have a change of heart yet, Black?” Voldemort asked lightly. “It’s quite alright if you haven’t... just know that until you tell me what I need to know, this will be happening... quite often.” He chuckled softly to himself. “We have all the time in the world...”

Sirius lay limply on the ground. He was unable to see clearly, unable to think clearly, barely able to breathe. His body ached all over from the Cruciatus Curse, the pain was still there, all over his body. He couldn’t move at all. Blood was beginning to fill his mouth, but not just from his bitten tongue. He coughed weakly a few times, coughed on to the ground, realized that he was coughing up blood... Jesus Christ, he thought, I must look lovely right now.

And with that thought in mind, Sirius Black passed out.