Crucio

Chapter 24: And There's No Way of Knowing

Sirius frowned as soon as he opened his eyes--Harry wasn't next to him on the settee. Realizing they must have fallen asleep sometime after their strategy session, Sirius quickly sat up, ignoring the protesting twinges from his muscles.

"Harry?" he called, even as he pushed open the door to the small study off the sitting room--it was as dusty as it always was, and as empty. "Harry?" he called again a little louder as he headed toward the stairs, though he couldn't imagine why Harry would have gone up there with Snape.

He paused at the kitchen when he heard a muffled scraping sound. He pushed open the door and drew in a sharp breath. Harry was sitting on the floor, surrounded by a mess of jagged china.

Crouching down immediately, Sirius gripped his shoulder. "Harry, what's happened?"

Harry looked up, confused to see Sirius in front of him. He shook his head slowly.

"What's the matter?" Sirius demanded, his voice rising in worry. He shook Harry's shoulder lightly; the clouded green eyes finally cleared.

"It was Snape," Harry croaked.

"Snape?" Sirius echoed in confusion. "What was Snape?"

Harry swallowed. He shook his head again; his eyes were shiny now, and his hands were trembling in his lap. "He's the one who told Voldemort the Prophecy..."

Sirius stared at Harry, unsure he'd heard correctly.

"He told me," Harry said miserably, gazing down at his hands as they twisted together. "He told me... so I that wouldn't stop him."

"Stop him from what?"

Harry closed his eyes. "From taking a vial of poison..."

Sirius' hand slipped from Harry's shoulder. Stunned, he sank to the floor, barely feeling the sharp edge of china that pierced his leg.

His head swam. He had no idea which horrible pronouncement to address first.

Snape had been the one... Lily and James...

Poison.

Sirius had known the other man might offer to sacrifice himself--but Snape had barely had time to consider it... Lily and James...

James...

And Snape had known he and Lily had a son...

The fury that suddenly welled up in Sirius' chest almost blinded him as he imagined wrapping his hands around the other man's neck and strangling him--Snape's eyes bulging out until he stopped breathing.

But Snape wasn't here. Only Harry...

Harry, who was sitting in front of him, looking miserable. It was no wonder...

"Snape poisoned himself?" Sirius finally breathed, the words clumsy.

Harry bowed his head, curling into himself. After a brief silence, he shook his head. Barely. "I left before he could do it."

Sirius curled his quaking fingers into fists. He had no idea what to say. He wanted to scream in frustration that Snape hadn't managed it. But relief overwhelmed him; Harry hadn't had to see Snape kill himself.

"You did just as you should have," Sirius said gently.

Harry opened his eyes. "It's not enough," he said hoarsely.

"You prevented him from taking his own life," Sirius said softly, as neutrally as he could manage. He cleared the floor of littered bits of china with a quick wave of his wand. Pushing himself to his knees, he stood up jerkily. He reached a hand down for Harry, but Harry was staring up at him, studying him almost.

"I have to try to merge the realities," he said quietly.

Sirius nodded, though he couldn't have been more disconnected from the problem of the shifting realities.

"I know." He tugged Harry upward. "We'll have to get more of that potion, and you can rest a bit first; have something to eat before--"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head sharply. "I mean, right now. I don't want Snape to have a chance to take that potion again!"

"You can't try it now," Sirius argued as Harry opened his mouth to protest again. "Unless you're willing to give it up at the first sign of trouble."

"We're running of time, Sirius--"

"Maybe you haven't really noticed what it does to you when you try to merge the realities," Sirius interrupted impatiently, "but the first time, your heart rate increased so drastically, we were afraid blood vessels would burst."

"The second time, it wasn't as bad--"

"The second time, you took Snape's potion and went to sleep," Sirius reminded him, doing his best to keep his tone from betraying his emotions as Harry set his jaw. "We need that Sleeping Potion, Harry... as a safety precaution--"

"I didn't have as much control over the streams when I used the Sleeping potions," Harry told him sharply. "And Snape is ready to off himself. We don't have time to be careful."

"My concern is for you, not Snape!"

Harry's eyes snapped.

Sirius breathed deeply to calm himself, shifting as he prepared to explain. "I don't mean Snape should go through with his plan," he tried again, "but he obviously doesn't believe you'll have success in bringing the realities back together otherwise."

"So we're just supposed to let him kill himself?"

"That isn't what I said," Sirius snapped.

Harry looked away.

Sirius closed his eyes briefly, and ran a hand through his hair. "Harry, all I'm asking is that you be sensible about this. Rest for awhile and then we'll try it. Nothing can happen to Snape if you're here, and I'll stun him when you merge the realities together--to give you more time." He tried a smile at his pathetic attempt at humor, but Harry just nodded.

"Fine," he mumbled after a short silence. He stuffed his fists in his pockets before he looked up again. "I think Snape wanted me to hate him," he said thickly. "But even if I do... I can't let him do it."

Sirius' throat ached as he nodded. "No, we can't."

Tentatively, he put a hand between Harry's shoulders. Sighing heavily, Harry leaned forward until his forehead fell against Sirius' chest. Sirius rested his cheek on the top of Harry's head and wound his arm fully round his godson's slumped shoulders. They stood their together as Sirius combed his fingers through the dark hair, both of them lost to their thoughts.

--

Sirius massaged his temples as he stirred the lightly simmering pot of brown soup--one of the only things, besides porridge, that was still in good supply in the pantry.

Harry had been upstairs for the better part of the past hour, resting as Sirius had asked him to do, and since Sirius wasn't certain his godson wouldn't be in the mood for another argument, he was hoping to use the smell of dinner to lure Harry into the kitchen again--and to distract him. But so far, it wasn't working.

Sirius sighed, and pressed his fingertips a little more firmly against the headache gathering behind his eyes. He rested the handle of the spoon against the iron pot. He couldn't be a coward forever, he supposed, and it wasn't as if Harry hadn't agreed to wait until he had at least rested a bit before trying once again to merge the realities--even if he had agreed with rather bad grace.

Though he had accepted Sirius' comfort only moments later without hesitation. Feeling marginally more confident with that realization, Sirius decided that Harry wouldn't be still be feeling moody over the entire subject--the kid was mature beyond even his own years.

After lowering the heat below the bubbling pot, Sirius turned--too swiftly it seemed. A moment of dizziness rolled over him; he caught himself with the edge of the stove. He had to shake his head slowly to regain his equilibrium and when he looked up again, he nearly lost his balance again.

Snape was on his knees on the floor, shaking his head in exactly the same disoriented manner that Sirius just had. Two halves of a glass vial were sitting near the tips of his fingers--in a spreading pool of yellow liquid.

"What the-" Sirius managed to breathe before Snape's acid tone cut him off.

"Where's Potter?"

Sirius snapped his mouth shut on his almost-automatic answer. His fists curled by his side. "Harry told me about the Prophecy."

Snape pushed himself to his feet; Sirius watched him swaying unsteadily. But even as Snape swayed, his sneer stayed firmly in place.

"Shocking," he drawled. "And as much as I'd like to chat with you in detail about my years in the Dark Lord's service, perhaps you should be more concerned that the realities have merged once more."

Sirius glowered at him. "I'm sorry you smashed your potion. All of us would have been better off if you'd succeeded." Snape didn't react. "Get out of my way," Sirius growled.

Snape moved aside without a word. Sirius stalked past him, keeping his threats of bodily harm and gruesome deaths mostly to himself with great difficulty.

Once he was on the stairs, he began to wonder why Harry had not come downstairs--he must have felt the shifting realities as well. Worried now, Sirius took the rest of the step at a jog. Regulus' room was empty, so Sirius went past quickly and veered into his own. His heart nearly stopped beating.

He vaguely heard a low oath behind him as he fell to his knees in front of Harry. Harry, his eyes bright with exertion and sweat dripping down his brow, grimaced back at him.

"Harry," Sirius breathed as he grasped his godson's upper arms in a fierce grip, "what are you doing?"

"Snape," Harry gasped, though he didn't seem to have noticed the other man. "I'm controlling the streams... can't.... take the potion," he gasped out. Snape was suddenly beside Sirius. He was shaking a vial of the Sleeping Potion in front of Harry's face.

"You are being a fool, Potter," Snape hissed. With what looked like a great effort, Harry turned his eyes to his professor.

"I can... control it this... way..."

"You'll kill yourself," Snape snapped; the words chilled Sirius.

He grabbed the vial from Snape's fingers and popped the cork off. "Take it, Harry," he ordered, giving his godson a sharp shake when Harry shook his head jerkily.

"... can do this,"

Sirius could feel Harry's rapidly accelerating heartbeat--already beating at dangerous levels. Harry's face was gray, and his body was beginning to droop.

"Damn it, Harry!" Sirius exploded.

"Spell it into him," Snape hissed from beside him. Sirius fumbled with his wand, and then watched in horror as Harry's hand shot out and sent the vial smashing to the floor. Sirius' head snapped back to Snape.

"Do you have another?"

"No."

Knowing that he was probably bruising Harry's skin, and unable to stop, Sirius' fingers clamped roughly around his godson's biceps, shaking him once more.

"Stop it!" he said furiously.

"He's vital signs are weakening," Snape warned tersely beside him.

"For fuck's sake, Harry, I won't let Snape kill himself!" Sirius said desperately. "You don't have to do this right now!"

"... have... to..." Harry breathed slowly, his lips flaccid. And then his eyes rolled back into his head.

Snape caught him as he crumpled backward.

"Harry!" Sirius cried, moving with his godson as Snape laid Harry against the hard floor. He bent close to Harry's face, instantly relieved at the slow breaths he could feel on his cheek--even as cold as they were. Sirius turned quickly to face Snape, but all hope that Snape had slipped in a Deep Sleeping Spell instantly left him. Snape was staring grimly at Harry.

"What's wrong with him?" Sirius demanded as Snape waved his wand over Harry's quiet form.

"The realities appeared to have overwhelmed him," Snape said. "He is in a coma."

Tears obscured Sirius' vision. He turned back to gaze at his godson--who looked as white as the few men that Sirius had seen in death. "No..."

Snape stirred beside him. "I do not have another vial of poison," he said in a low voice. Sirius looked up sharply. Snape held his wand toward Sirius, the tip pointed toward himself.

Sirius could only stare.

Snape sneered at him, but it did nothing to raise Sirius' hackles.

"You have wanted to do this since we were boys, I think," Snape said coldly. "And even more now, I am certain." He nudged the wand forward. "Potter does not know the vial broke. He never has to know."

Sirius swallowed; his fingers twitched against Harry's forehead--ached to reach forward and take Snape's offer. He glanced down at his godson; his fringe had fallen into his eyes. Sirius brushed it aside softly.

"No," he finally whispered. "Harry..." he had to swallow again as he shook his head, "... he wouldn't want me to."

He looked up again. Snape's lips had parted--only slightly and as soon as he found Sirius' gaze, they pressed together again. "You are a fool."

Sirius didn't answer as he turned back to his godson.

--

Harry could feel the streams as they poured over him; moving upward too swiftly for him to get away. His arms flailed as he tried to drive himself upward, above the water. But it was no use. The water rushed faster and faster until he was pushed down with the force of it--completely submerged beneath its weight.

Harry closed his eyes; his lungs felt like they were being crushed. Even though he knew there really wasn't any water--it was all in his mind. These rushes of hot water, contrasting sharply with the icy sensations.

But even thought it wasn't real, he was drowning... could feel the realities slipping away, just as quickly as Sirius' furious, terrified face had vanished from right in front of him.

And all that was left was the water.

Hot and cold writhing around him.

Two separate realities wanting his attention, even as they tried to merge together--to snuff the other out, or kill Harry trying.

Frigid water, close by his feet--he could feel it; shivered with it.

Warmth near his face, enveloping him.

Separate. He could sense them. Feel them as if they were alive--a part of him.

Cold water brushing his knee--not nearly as cold as Snape's reality. And heat twining his neck like a noose.

Four distinct streams....

Dozens more....

.... thousands.

All of them merging together to form the vast ocean... reality as it was supposed to be.

And Harry could sense each individual stream. Each individual person. They were all here.

He let the water glide through his fingers, caressing it.

Each stream a separate life.

He wouldn't allow Snape's to be crushed by the others--or to slip away as fate had ordered. He was in control here, he realized.

He wasn't drowning. He was guiding these waters--these streams... these lives.

It was ironic, Harry realized with a languorous smile. Your life is in my hands, Snape had told him, that very first day in the infirmary after he'd awoken from Umbridge's curse. But Snape could not have been more wrong. Snape's life was in Harry's hands--very literally as Harry brushed his fingers through the icy jet.

All of their lives were in Harry's hands.

Every single person...

Harry smiled. Fate was his to determine now.

He flipped himself toward the deep ocean. And with determined strokes, Harry went to find Voldemort.