Death Before Dishonor

DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR

Chapter Fourteen: Anticipation

For most of his life, Sirius Black had operated on one of two default settings around strangers: joking or dangerous. With friends, there were a slew of options and personality traits lying in between, but most strangers inevitably saw him as a carefree and often tactless practical joker. The few who had seen the dangerous aspects of his character were either dead or were still in Azkaban. They hadn´t hated him any less when he´d become their companion in the Wizarding world´s version of hell, but that had never bothered him--after all, he´d put them there. They were welcome to hate him. But aside from imprisoned and dead Death Eaters, most people just saw the clown.

At the moment, though, when he swept into the Ministry´s headquarters, he was anything but a clown. Sirius´ strides were long and certain as he approached the secretary´s desk; the witch looked up without recognition (those Azkaban photographs just did not do him justice at all), and raised one perky eyebrow, smiling politely. But he spoke before she could ask what he wanted.

"Sirius Black to see the Minister of Magic."

The effect of his words was incredible. The witch behind the desk reared back in shock and looked as if she was having an inner debate over the virtues of screaming her lungs out. Just in time, she must have remembered that the Ministry had declared his innocence; however, that certainly did not keep her brown eyes from widening to at least twice their normal size. She stared at him for a long moment, apparently reconciling the well-built and clean-cut man with the scrawny and scruffy one whose image all the papers had carried for over a year. Sirius noticed the surprise on her face as she evaluated the changes in his appearance, but, all the same, the fear did not leave her eyes. He supposed that was because the cold stare he offered her was exactly what she might have expected out of a mass murderer--or of a Death Eater. Or from a rather irritated ex-Auror, he thought to himself, knowing that wasn´t something she was currently imagining. But why bother with the truth?

"I...I´m afraid the Minister is busy right now," she finally managed.

Sirius arched one eyebrow and let her squirm for a long moment. Many people never understood how he could ever become so much the opposite of his normal and cheerful self, but Sirius Black was a man of extremes. That was why he´d made such a good Auror. Playtime and business were worlds apart--although none of his professors would ever have believed that he knew the difference.

"And how long will he be busy for?" Sirius asked emotionlessly, then quirked a cool smile. "Or is that simply your polite way of saying that he will not see me?"

"I am afraid he will be busy all day," the witch said quietly, completely unsure of how to deal with him.

"I am afraid that will be unacceptable," he said evenly, and watched shock play all over her face as the secretarial witch expected a threat. "I come bringing an urgent message from Hogwarts. I need to speak to the Minister directly."

That ought to do it, Sirius thought, watching alarm light up her face. In the wake of the attack--destruction--of Beauxbatons, there was no doubt that everyone feared Hogwarts would be next. Durmstrang might have made an easier target, but the other remaining European magical school taught the Dark Arts, which meant Voldemort stood a good chance of making allies there. Hogwarts, on the other hand, was the realm of Albus Dumbledore, the one man any Dark Wizard feared, and that meant that Hogwarts would be attacked, sooner or later. Judging from the look on the witch´s face, Sirius knew he´d guessed right and that the Ministry feared that Hogwarts would be next--and he did nothing to dissuade her of the notion that the moment had come. Perhaps it was unkind, but Sirius didn´t much feel like playing fair at the moment.

Come to think of it, he didn´t much feel like playing at anything at the moment.

"I will tell him you are here," she replied quickly. In the space of three seconds, the witch had gone from unresponsive to sickeningly helpful, and Sirius watched impassively as she shot out of her seat and scurried into Fudge´s office. Thirty seconds could not have passed before she came out again, leaving the door open behind her. "The Minister will see you now, Mr. Black."

"Thank you."

He nodded to her, but put the witch´s presence out of his mind the moment he entered Fudge´s office. There were only around a thousand things Sirius would have preferred to be doing at the time, and talking to Cornelius Fudge had dropped off his list of things to do with his life around about the time Fudge had arrived to arrest him with Barty Crouch. The two of them, ambitious and arrogant bastards that they were, had decided that a trial would be too good for Voldemort´s second in command--and had doomed him to hell because of that. Of the two, Sirius hated Crouch more by a slim margin, mostly because he´d counted on the other as a professional colleague and had assumed that Crouch would have at least listened to him and given him a chance to explain. Fudge, however, he still dismissed as a political monster, interested only in anything that kept him secure in the fiefdom he´d built in the Ministry of Magic.

Regardless, though, he was there, and Dumbledore was counting on him. He had a job to do. Failure, Sirius had learned a long time ago, was not a feeling he enjoyed, nor was it a fault he accepted from himself, so fail he would not. Business time. He tried to keep the hatred out of his voice. "Minister."

Surprisingly enough, Fudge actually rose to greet Sirius, coming around from behind his great oak desk. "Mr. Black. You come from Hogwarts?"

"I do." As Sirius met the older man´s gaze, he could not help but notice that Fudge was actually shaking slightly. Fear filled the Minister of Magic´s eyes, and Sirius knew that the other expected the worst. That, however, was not the only thing he noticed. He jerked his head toward the still open door and the wide-eyed secretary filling the doorway. "You might want to have that door shut. I suspect you will not want others overhearing what I have to tell you."

A glare from the Minister closed the door and sent the witch fleeing back to her desk, and Fudge gulped, lowering himself slowly back into the chair behind his desk as if his legs would no longer support him. Fudge´s voice came out in a scratchy whisper.

"Hogwarts is gone, isn´t it?"

"No," Sirius replied levelly, helping himself to the seat Fudge hadn´t bothered to offer him. "I assure you that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is perfectly intact and will remain that way for some time to come. It will take more power than Voldemort can currently muster to breach the defenses."

For one moment, he thought Fudge was going to faint. "But you said that you brought an urgent message from--"

"And so I do. It is not, however, my fault that your secretary chose to mislead you." Or, at least not that I´ll admit to, anyway. Shaking Fudge up was probably the best way to accomplish his mission, assuming that it could be accomplished at all, which meant that Sirius did not give a damn about protecting the Minister´s tender feelings from harm. "I have come on behalf of the Headmaster, who regrets that he cannot leave the school at this time. More important matters demand his attention."

"Like what?" Fudge´s face reddened at the implied insult.

"The safety of Hogwarts. The war against Voldemort." Sirius let his gaze burn into the Minister´s. "And the future of our world."

"Now see here, Black--"

"No." While Fudge´s voice had risen to a near shout, Sirius kept his level and cool. But his flat tone abruptly quieted the politician, who stared at the Hogwarts professor in disbelief and with an ever-reddening face that revealed his anger all too well. Before the other could respond, though, Sirius plowed forward in the same emotionless voice, refusing to get in a shouting match with Fudge.

"It is you who must see, Minister. I am here on behalf of Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. I come, for the last time, to request that you reconsider your policies and tell the truth behind the attacks. You can no longer deny that the world is at war. You cannot hide the threat that Voldemort has become. To do so is criminal, and endangers the very people you should be protecting." Sirius met the older man´s furious gaze without blinking. "It is time to tell the truth. The public deserves to know."

"You have no right to walk in here and tell me how to run my own Ministry!" Fudge snapped, too angered at Sirius´ blunt words to catch all the nuances behind them.

"Perhaps I do not," he agreed coldly. "But I come here with a warning, and a statement of fact: should you continue to deny the truth, Dumbledore will announce to the Wizarding public that Voldemort is alive and call for support against the Dark Lord."

Under any other circumstances, the look on Fudge´s face might have been amusing; at the moment, though, it was merely sad. The Minister did look as if he was going to explode (and, failing that, have an instant stroke), but Sirius was beyond caring. There had been no gentle way to approach the truth, so he´d slapped Fudge in the face with it. Perhaps that was not the most diplomatic approach, but if the headmaster had wanted diplomacy, he´d have sent Remus. And the smile on his face told me that he wanted anything but good manners from me, Sirius thought. All in all, I think I´ve behaved myself very well.

"He would not dare," Fudge finally choked.

"It´s not a question of daring," Sirius responded. "It is a question of doing what has to be done. Will you announce the truth and lead the fight against Voldemort, or must another do it for you?"

"Dumbledore would never break with the Ministry," the politician replied quickly, trying to convince himself more than Sirius. "We have worked too closely for too many years..."

"For the past five months, Minister, you have done everything but work with him," Sirius half-snarled, unable to believe that the man´s self-delusions were actually so strong. Oh, he´d known, but seeing it in person was something else entirely. "For five months, Dumbledore has fought a war with no help from you or the Ministry--instead, you persist in lying to the very people whom Voldemort will hunt! You have done nothing to stop the Dark Lord, and the time for lies has ended. The Order of the Phoenix cannot fight this war alone. Our battles can no longer be conducted in the shadows. We must unite, or Voldemort will take us apart one by one.

"But to do that, the Magical world has to know the truth you have denied it. Make the announcement, or Dumbledore will."

Fudge stared at him. Sirius looked back, having delivered the ultimatum and caring to say no more. He already felt contaminated enough just by sitting in the same room with the man. An extremely uncomfortable silence filled the office for several minutes, but Sirius remained perfectly still. However uncontrolled he could act, Sirius Black was actually a very disciplined individual, and he knew that his motionless stare unnerved Fudge a great deal. Accordingly, he faced the Minister, waiting for the other to reply, even though he knew how disappointing that answer would be. All of them had known--but they´d had to try. If they hadn´t tried to work through the Ministry one last time, the Order of the Phoenix would have proven itself to be no better than Cornelius Fudge. Finally, the diminutive Minister of Magic spoke.

"I cannot believe that Albus Dumbledore would make such ill-conceived decisions, Mr. Black," Fudge said with a semblance of control. "Accordingly, I can only interpret that you are here without the Headmaster´s permission and are seeking to serve your own reprehensible ends. I shall now ask you to leave my office before something...regrettable happens."

As Fudge rose, Sirius stared at him with curiosity. That certainly wasn´t what he had expected...And hang it all, did he just threaten me? Almost unable to believe ears, the professor-turned-messenger asked calmly, "I beg your pardon?"

"You are not welcome here, Mr. Black," Fudge began. "You may take your lies--"

The room shuddered, and suddenly everything spun out of control.

--------------------

"Well, what do you think?"

Remus took his time before answering. "It´s obviously not an accident."

"Tell me something I don´t know, Lupin," the other professor snapped impatiently, earning himself a dark look from the History of Magic teacher.

"You asked for my help, Severus." Remus Lupin struggled to keep his voice level; he could understand Snape´s irritation and the worry that the Potions Master was trying not to show. Snape had sacrificed a great deal in the fight against Voldemort, but was, in Remus´ opinion, still struggling with how to deal with his newfound freedom. Remus suspected that Snape had been a spy for so long, had spent so many years lying to both himself and to others and hiding his true personality, that even Snape wasn´t sure how to present himself. So, even though the attitude could be hard to stomach at times, Remus tried to understand when Snape resorted to sarcasm to hide his concern.

"I know," Snape sighed, then suddenly shot to his feet, pacing around Remus´ office like a caged animal. His right hand, Remus noticed, clutched convulsively at his left forearm, but he doubted that Snape realized that. Abruptly, the Potions master stopped, forcing himself to be still with obvious effort. "I apologize."

"No apology is necessary," Remus replied softly, slightly surprised by the other man´s sincerity. "I´ve been researching everything I can find since you mentioned the problem, but I haven´t found much. It seems that the Dark Mark is unique to Voldemort. Our information on Dark Wizards is sketchy, at best, but I haven´t found anything that even remotely resembles the Mark. No one has used one before, not even Grindelwald, who seems to have influenced many of Voldemort´s other actions. Needless to say, then, I haven´t any idea why it is acting like this. Then again, I am not an expert in this field, either."

Snape snorted. "Unfortunately," he replied dryly, "all the experts on the Dark Mark are not individuals whose presence I care to be in at the moment, thank you."

"I can´t blame you for that." Remus smiled slightly. "Actually, though, I was thinking of you. You´ve obviously got suspicions, Severus, or you wouldn´t have asked me to see what I could find out. What do you think?"

For a moment, the Potions master stared thoughtfully at the wall, but Remus watched with interest as Snape´s eyes were drawn unwittingly downwards. Only then, it seemed, did Snape realize that he´d been grasping his left forearm, and he yanked his right hand away when he did. The grimace on his face was hard to miss, and the frustration and anger in his eyes made Remus pity Snape, something he had never thought he would do. However, he knew that Snape did not want pity; in fact, the other man hated to ask for help--his life had been the product of loneliness and suspicion, neither of which made for easy trust. Remus supposed he should have been flattered, then, by the fact that Snape had turned to him at all. He knew it wasn´t easy.

"I think," Severus said slowly, "that this is a message." He was still staring at his arm. "But it has never done this before. It is hard to explain the different ways in which the Mark can burn--the commands are intuitive, really. You can´t describe what they feel like; you just know what they mean. But it´s never been like this."

"What was it like after Voldemort knew you´d betrayed him?"

"At first it was hell," Snape replied honestly. "The Mark always burns painfully in the Dark Lord´s presence, though, if he is displeased with you." There was a slight hesitation, then, as if Snape was reliving moments that he would rather forget, and Remus regretted having reminded him of the hell he must have been through in Voldemort´s hands. Having seen Snape upon his return, Remus knew that he´d narrowly escaped with his life--only sheer stubbornness had kept him alive long enough to reach Hogwarts. Finally, the former Death Eater continued. "Then everything stopped."

"What do you mean?" Remus hated to ask, but he knew he had to.

"There was nothing--it felt at once as if a cancerous growth had been removed from my soul and like I was missing an integral part of myself. It was a strange sense of freedom, but unusual, something I hadn´t felt in a long time...but the Mark didn´t fade. I don´t think it ever will."

Resignation filled Snape´s voice, and Remus stared at him as he spoke, taken aback by the other´s openness. This was a side of Severus Snape that he´d never seen before, never even guessed had existed--but he supposed that it must have always been there, because the intestinal fortitude that had driven Snape to betray Voldemort and follow Albus Dumbledore had to be accompanied by a very special kind of courage. For the first time, Remus understood why Dumbledore had always trusted Snape: the man on the inside was far different from the image shown to the world. That was a gift that Dumbledore seemed to have; his ability to see inside a man´s soul was unparalleled, and the headmaster was rarely wrong. And in Snape´s case, he hadn´t been mistaken at all.

"But it started burning again this morning."

Remus frowned. "And you can´t figure out why."

"No." The Potions master shook his head. "This isn´t a calling. I´m the last person he wants in his presence right now, unless it´s to kill me, and he knows I won´t answer. But it´s not like Voldemort to simply do this out of spite. He´s not that petty--or perhaps petty is the wrong word. Rather, I would think that as a traitor I am beneath his notice now, until he decides I must die."

The lack of emotion in Snape´s voice was nearly appalling, and Remus wondered how he could face a gruesome death so readily--except, wasn´t that what waited for each of member of the Order of the Phoenix, should they lose the war? Like Snape, Remus did not fear death, and although he did not precisely court it, either, he knew that death could come. Snape´s acceptance of death was what horrified him, though, even though he realized that it should not have. He´s been a double agent for years now, Remus reminded himself. He´s been living for half of his life with the fact that Voldemort will kill him. In truth, Snape was probably surprised that he had lasted so long.

"I think it´s burning for some other reason."

"Can he force you to him with it?" Remus wondered suddenly.

Snape shook his head. "If I was anywhere but Hogwarts, perhaps. Doing that is like Apparating someone else--technically impossible, even with the Dark Mark burned into my arm. I suppose, though, if he had enough power--more than even he possesses himself, so he´d have to be drawing on someone or something else, as well--he could do it. Even against my will."

Remus shivered. That wasn´t a nice thought. "So is it a warning?" he speculated. "Is your Mark acting as Harry´s scar does, now that you have been severed from Voldemort?"

"I´ll never be free of him, if that´s what you mean," Severus corrected him darkly. Then he shook his head. "But I don´t think it´s a warning. The burn feels more like anticipation...like something is coming."

--------------------

Glass shattered. Power crackled in the air. The floor buckled and shook under him, even as Sirius instinctively dove out of his chair. Dust filled his lungs, and for the first time in many years, Sirius actually felt pain. He felt death.

Distantly, he heard Fudge scream, but Sirius did not have time for the Minister. He felt like he was experiencing his own private earthquake; the world shuddered and seemed to tip on its axis. Suddenly, his perception of up and down became wrong, and what had previously been to his right became downwards--Sirius crashed into the far wall with a thud, and saw Fudge´s desk sliding to meet him through the murky air inside the office. Somewhere, seeming from very far away, he heard more screaming from other voices. Too late, he tried to twist out of the path of the incoming furniture, but Sirius realized it was going to hit and knew that once it did, he´d pass out and it would be over.

Then the world tilted again, sending him back the other way. Throwing out a desperate hand to break his fall, Sirius bounced off the same chair he´d occupied only seconds before. He tucked his head to his chest and managed to avoid all but a glancing blow to the shoulder, from which there wasn´t even time for the pain to register. His awareness was sharpening, defining itself as he struggled to figure out what was happening, but the ex-Auror did not have time to dissect the situation. Foolishly, he figured that there would be plenty of chances for that later; he had to concentrate on the moment. Rolling away from the downed furniture, Sirius started to get his feet under himself but found nothing to stand on as the floor collapsed out from underneath him.

Falling. The sensation was like flying, but less invigorating, and the landing promised to be a lot less fun. He was falling. This is going to be bad--he hit. Crunch. Sirius did not know if the sound came from his bones breaking or from the panel wood flooring that had been in Fudge´s office, but didn´t really care to find out, either. Something hard and heavy landed on him. Pain. Blackness crept in, but he instinctively knew that waking up would be far worse than staying conscious. Years of training and hardship kicked in. The mass on top of him was unyielding, but he had no idea if it would hide his presence. In truth, he did not know if he needed to hide, but instinct and training screamed for him to act before someone else did it for him. Move.

With a grunt, Sirius threw the flooring, ceiling tiles, and chair remnants (along with god only knew what else) off of his body and stood. He blinked, glancing around and trying to get his bearings through the dust cloud that had settled over him. Finally, a vague light worked its way through the haze, and he traced it back to the small window in a wall to his right. Good. That meant they were still above ground, and he remembered that Fudge´s office had been on the fourth floor of the spacious Ministry of Magic headquarters--death.

His head snapped around as he felt it. The sensation came from close by, perhaps a hundred feet away: towards the building´s main entrance. It was a crackling of magic, a small twinge of darkness that Aurors were trained to search for--but few every truly felt it. Most just did not have the appropriate sensitivity, but Sirius always had. Usually, he´d felt only its remnants, the residue left behind of Dark Magic, pain, and death. This was fresh, current, happening, but he knew it all the same. This was the same power, darkness, and death that he had felt almost fifteen years ago at Godric´s Hollow as he bent over the bodies of his best friend and his wife. He had felt it many other times, of course, before and since that moment, but that day had always been the strongest. And he knew why.

Voldemort is here.

A sudden groan reminded him that he was not alone. "Fudge?" Sirius called. His voice sounded muffled in the unnaturally thick air, even to his ears. He listened carefully, but there was no response. The only sound came from the noise of wreckage still raining down from the floors above them.

"Fudge?"