Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Eighteen: The Storm Breaks

He was on his feet before he even understood that he was moving. His left hand snaked out to grab the back of Harry's shirt while his right instinctively grasped his wand. Ignoring his godson's surprised howl of protest, Sirius shouted to the other children.

"Come on!"

Outside was not likely to be any safer than it was inside of Flourish and Blott's, but at least the building could not collapse on them if they left. Sirius hardly noticed when Fred grabbed Ron and George snatched Hermione; his mind was racing too busily. Something was wrong, very wrong--yet he had no way of knowing what. Not yet...and there was only one way to find out. Quickly, Sirius rushed through the front entrance, shoving the door aside with enough force to crack the hinges. It flew against the outer wall with a crash, but he did not hear.

The moment he stepped outside, Sirius knew that the worst had happened. A strong wind ripped down the alleyway, blowing his robes out behind him and whipping his hair back from his face. Pieces of buildings, benches, and signs were scattered all over the street, and hapless witches and wizards attempted to find hiding places amongst them when not pointing at the sky and screaming in terror. Even Molly's eyes were riveted upwards; she paid no attention as Ginny struggled out from underneath a trash bin at her side. Instead, Molly only stared, pale-faced and shaking. Her wand was not even in her hands, and following her frightened eyes made a cold chill run down Sirius' spine.

The Dark Mark burned green in the sky.

Sirius froze in mid-stride, making Harry, whose arm he still held, stumble to a stop and almost go flying after tripping over Ron's feet. A moment's concentration brought a wealth of information flowing into his mind--magic filled the very air, and it did not take an Auror's instincts to feel it. He knew instantly that no one would leave Diagon Alley until the Dark Lord permitted it; heavy Anti-Apparation spells hung over the area like a great black shadow. Also, he had no doubt that the Floo Network was similarly blocked; Death Eaters were anything but stupid. There was no way to run, nowhere to hide.

People were screaming madly, fleeing in the direction of Flourish & Blott's from the other end of Diagon alley. Terrified masses rushed towards Sirius, futilely attempting to escape the oncoming wave of destruction. They could not fight him, and ran thinking that no one would dare try.

Twisting around, Sirius grabbed George's left shoulder. "Take the others and run," he said quickly. "Run and hide--you know Diagon Alley better than any dozen adults. Don't come out unless your mother or I find you."

"But--" George started to argue, but the violently rising winds carried his words away. Sirius shook him and shouted:

"Do you hear me? Don't come out for anyone!" Seven pairs of wide eyes stared at him in terror. "Not for anyone!"

Fred snapped out of his shock seconds before his twin. "Come on!" he cried, still grasping Ron's arm. "We don't have time to lose!"

The six children bolted; only Harry lagged a step behind as he paused for a heartbeat to meet his godfather's eyes. For a moment, it looked as if the boy might speak--there was a frightening amount of understanding in his green eyes, and suddenly Sirius wondered exactly what Harry knew--but there was not time.

"Go!" he shouted, and Harry ran.

Molly grabbed his arm. Her hands were shaking, but the right one held her wand tightly enough. "Where--?"

"It doesn't matter!" A quartet of terrified wizards headed their way.

"But--"

He cut her off by shouting in her face. It wasn't exactly polite, but it was all he had. "No! I needs you to get the Anti-Apparation fields down! I need you to get these people out of here!"

"What will you do?" she asked fearfully. Sirius almost laughed, but her face was horribly pale and frightened. Pulling away, he managed a bloodless smile.

"What do you think?"

"Sirius--"

He'd managed to take two steps before the terror in her voice stopped him. "You don't have to do this," Molly whispered. "Just run."

The smile came easier this time, and the pounding in his ears seemed to quiet. For a moment, Sirius almost felt sad. And he felt oddly at peace with what he had to do. Gently, he evaded Molly's attempt to grab a hold of him once more, feeling his bitter smile soften.

"I'm the only one who can," Sirius replied.

She stared at his back while he sprinted away.

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"Dung!"

Remus burst into his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's private quarters without knocking. Fletcher, who had been seated in a comfortable armchair with an old book in hand, jumped to his feet and dropped the book, grabbing for his wand. Wide-eyed and startled, the ex-Auror backed up quickly, tripping over the end table. He stumbled, but his aim never wavered and his wand stayed pointed at Remus' face.

"Easy, Dung," the headmaster said, raising his empty hands slowly. "We've got a problem."

"What?" The crazed look in his friend's eyes faded slightly. Dung blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Voldemort is attacking Diagon Alley."

Remus saw old fear spike in Dung's blue eyes. "Right now?"

"Yes," he replied, taking a deep breath. He didn't dare say much, even to Fletcher. "A friend told me."

"Snape?" the other asked perceptively.

"No. But there isn't time for that. We've got to go."

"Right." Fortunately, Dung understood too well to ask why. He knew how thin the Aurors were stretched, and had to at least guess where they were based. Avalon, after all, wasn't the most reachable of places, even at the best of times. When the ex-Auror started asking questions, he was all business and already heading for the door. "How many Death Eaters does he have with him?"

"I have no idea."

Fletcher stopped cold. "What?"

"There's no way to know," Remus said with an apologetic shrug. "But Sirius is there."

"Shit."

Together, they bolted out of Dung's quarters, rushing down the closest set of stairs. Through his unique link with the castle, Remus quickly ensured that the staircases sped them along their way instead of hindering them, but it still was a long way from the professors' private quarters to the castle's nearest exit. Fortunately, both of them were still young men, and while Remus' condition made his wind longer than the average wizard's, Dung had no problem keeping up. He'd once been an Auror, and although he'd refused to return to active service, Mundungus Fletcher was not the type of man who would allow himself to get fat

They sprinted towards the very edge of the Hogwarts grounds. There was no faster way to get to Diagon Alley than by Apparating (using the Floo Network from Hogwarts was a complicated venture), but that necessitated leaving the school's property. Or at least it meant that Fletcher would need to--Remus strongly suspected that his connection to the Font would allow him to Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, but there was no way to find out, and now was certainly not the time to test that theory. So they ran hard, tearing across the well-kept lawn and thankful that there were no students present in mid-August. Hagrid yelled after the pair, but Remus ignored him.

Sirius needed help.

There was no physical line marking where the Anti-Apparation wards ended, but every Hogwarts professor knew where that exact place was. Without passing a word between them, Remus and Dung both skidded to a stop and raised their wands.

Nothing happened.

The two exchanged startled glances. If he... Remus did not even want to finish the thought.

"A few more feet," Fletcher said quickly. "Maybe we made a mistake."

They ran another dozen yards and tried again.

Nothing.

Dung swore, this time much more colorfully and creatively than the last. But his blue eyes were frightened when he turned to look at Remus. "He's put up wards."

"Yes." Remus swallowed.

"D'you think the Floo's blocked?"

"From here it won't be," the headmaster replied, trying desperately not to think about what Sirius might be doing while they wasted time. For a split second, he contemplated calling James--but what good could James do? Even he couldn't contact the Aurors fast enough to matter. Only Sirius could do that, and Remus had a feeling that his friend would be far too busy to even think of it. Besides, every moment Remus wasted was one more in which his friend was in danger.

And a blocked Floo Network meant that no one else could reach Diagon Alley--except for from Hogwarts, which was not part of the network at all. Long ago, Dumbledore had arranged for the Hogwarts fires to be able to tap into the Floo Network without being a part of it, but doing so was not an easy process, and was not meant to be done quickly. Time, however, was not something Remus had to waste.

"Let's go."

They ran again.

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Three witches and two wizards (at least four of which he strongly suspected were Muggleborn) were suspended in the air and screaming when Sirius arrived. He'd had to sprint less than fifty yards to meet his enemy, but his appearance remained unnoticed while the Death Eaters merrily tortured their victims. Screams filled the alley, allowing Sirius to do a quick count of his opponents. He faced eight Death Eaters, but what worried him more than that was the number of witches and wizards who cowered on the sidelines. No one was fighting. No one dared resist.

Voldemort was laughing.

One of the witches abruptly stopped screaming--dead, probably, if not worse. But her four companions continued to suffer, and Sirius found the Death Eaters' display of pleasure absolutely sickening. He was not surprised to see it, of course, and recognized the absolute terror that the tactic caused--but they had to be stopped. And they had to be stopped now.

Taking a deep breath, he gathered in all the power he could muster, depending upon years of training and inborn magic. Sirius stopped and raised his wand, bellowing:

"Expelliarmus!"

Caught by surprise, eight Death Eaters flew backwards, and eight wands sailed in Sirius' general direction. He did not bother trying to catch them all, however; he was content to know that the wands were no longer in their owners' hands. Besides, he had bigger problems to worry about, and the street had gone silent as the Death Eaters' former victims crashed into the ground. Had he been able to do so, Sirius would have helped them...but a furious pair of red eyes was staring at him. The Dark Lord had not expected him, Sirius realized, and the thought made him smile coldly. Here we go...!

"Are you going to play sick games all day, Voldemort, or are you going to fight?" he challenged.

The winds stilled as the Dark Lord stepped forward. His cold voice was inhumanly calm. "Well, well...we meet again, Sirius Black."

"And so it begins." His heart beat rhythmically in his chest, constantly, readily. Sirius was mindful of their audience, of the innocent witches and wizards who were stuck watching this surreal moment, but they did not matter. Eleven years ago, who would have thought I'd be here? I never expected this to happen. Yet he was calm. Unsurprised.

You knew, Sirius. For at least five years, you have known.

"You will die." Slowly, Voldemort's wand came up, pointing directly at Sirius' heart. "You will die now."

Sirius grinned. "Do your best."

They spoke in the same moment.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Extundo!"

Both dodged at the same time, but even as Sirius rolled into his familiar combat crouch, he knew that something was different. Voldemort seemed faster, stronger. Something has changed. The link from Azkaban had muted, faded. He could still feel the Dark Lord's presence, but could not predict--

"Imperio!" Voldemort thundered.

"Protego!" He would not waste energy by using the actual counter to the Imperius Curse; a simple shield worked well enough if it had enough power behind it. "Incendio!"

Voldemort batted the jet of flames aside. "Come now, Black!" he laughed. "I thought better of you!"

"I'm just getting warmed up," Sirius retorted.

"Droll, Sirius. And quite disappointing," the other replied contemptuously. His confidence was unnerving. "If you're going to stand up to Lord Voldemort, you're going to have to be faster."

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Sirius countered. "Despite your best efforts to change that."

"Oh, yes. For the moment." The wand twitched. "Crucio."

Flash of light. Sirius dodged and shot a spell back almost without aiming. "Everbero!"

The Strike spell was countered with ridiculous ease. "Debullum!"

"Capitiscindo!"

Spells impacted, sending showers of sparks everywhere. The duel became thrust and motion, with spells cast so quickly that it was often impossible to think, and even more so to speak. Half the incantations were left unspoken, or only muttered--it was the Azkaban duel in broad daylight, fought where dozens of witches and wizards could see. Off to Sirius' right, the front door of Gringotts had burned off and lay smoldering on the steps, and the street was a mess of uprooted cobblestones and bent lampposts. It felt like forever had passed before the Death Eaters finally picked themselves up off the ground, although Sirius knew that only a minute or two had passed.

And then a spell broke through his defenses.

"Venderum!"

The dark spell hit Sirius full in the chest and sent him sailing backwards into one of the few standing lampposts. He almost lost his wand when he hit, and felt ribs break. Rolling instinctively to the left and gasping for air, Sirius had no time to block the next curse.

"Crucio!"

He screamed, and only training kept his wand between shaking fingers when his back arched off the ground in pain. But the same training made him roll again, and twist so that his aim was true. "Vindireperio!"

Somehow, Sirius doubted that anyone had ever managed to throw the Cruciatus Curse back at the Dark Lord, but if Voldemort was surprised, he did not show it. The curse did not hit him, of course--Voldemort was far too fast for that--but it did distract him. Also, it gave Sirius precious moments in which to struggle to his feet, holding his left arm against his chest and trying to count how many ribs were actually broken. Three. Damn. Voldemort, however, had turned slightly to face a masked and ready Lucius Malfoy.

"My Lord?" Malfoy was saying.

"He is mine," was the dark reply. "Go to the Floo Entrances," he ordered. "We are about to have company."

A cold shiver shook Sirius' body. He should have been relieved to know that help was on the way, yet...who was it? And how did Voldemort know? As eight Death Eaters headed out to stop his allies, a very bad feeling formed in the pit of Sirius' stomach. Something is very wrong.

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"Hagrid!" Dung shouted as they rushed back into the castle, almost careening straight into the half giant, who jumped several feet off of the ground in surprise.

"Professor Fletcher, yeh--"

"No time for that," Remus cut him off urgently, grabbing the big man's arm. "Call the Ministry and get Aurors to Diagon Alley."

"Wha--"

"Because Voldemort's there, Hagrid!" Dung snapped, cutting him off. "Call James now!"

They did not wait for his reply; instead, the two professors tore back up the stairs towards Dung's office. There were fireplaces in all the professors' offices, but Dung's was the closest, especially when the castle cooperated. And when a headmaster was desperate, there were few constants as strong as Hogwarts itself. The link was there, and doubly strong because of the Font--Remus and Dung reached Fletcher's office within seconds, tearing the Anti-Floo Spells down as they ran.

Three quick strides carried the ex-Auror to the fireplace while Remus was still shutting the door. Without hesitation, Dung grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and threw it into the fire.

"You realize that we're going to be sorely outnumbered," he said calmly.

The fear had almost completely faded from his eyes, and Remus had never seen Dung Fletcher so cool, so focused. He hadn't known him well in the days before Fletcher had been captured by Voldemort, but somehow the headmaster understood that he was seeing the Auror that Dung had once been, the man he had buried beneath memories and pain. For three years, Fletcher had hidden from his past. Now, though, he seemed to remember the man he had been before.

They would need that man today.

"I know," Remus said quietly. "But what choice do we have?"

Dung nodded with understanding. "None whatsoever."

"Let's go."

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He straightened with an effort, pulling his left arm away from his chest. I will not show weakness. Not before him. Sirius took a deep breath, and did not allow his face to show fear when he let it out. He was acutely aware of the many eyes upon him, could not miss how many witches and wizards were within distance to stare. The innocent had stopped fleeing to watch the duel, and dozens of eyes held heartbreaking hope... No weakness. Not like this. Squaring his shoulders, Sirius adopted a classic dueling stance. The time for taunting and baiting was over; this was not the type of duel he had fought before. Sirius raised his voice and called:

"Let us finish this!"

Voldemort laughed. "Are you so ready to die, Sirius Black?"

"Do your worst."

"Oh, I shall!" A long sweep of the Dark Lord's wand sent a greenish-blue spell sailing at the Auror; even as Sirius dodged by taking two quick steps to the right, the spell tracked him and sought to envelop him in a semi-translucent sphere of coldness. Icy wind buffeted him, freezing his robes against his skin. His wand felt like an icicle between his fingers, and it hurt so much to hold it that he would have dropped it had he been able. A standard shield spell did not dispel the sphere, nor did the more powerful one that Aurors learned to use. Finally, Sirius dug deep within himself and destroyed the spell with a wave of sheer power, and Voldemort's mocking laughter stopped.

Sirius smiled grimly as the cold disappeared. Alastor Moody taught me that, you bastard, he thought bitterly. And I will remember him when this ends. He did not bother with words to cast his next spell; Sirius was now functioning at a depth of magic that was dangerous to duel from but was also extraordinarily powerful. Moody had done it sometimes, and had taught him how--but his Mentor had warned Sirius not to use it unless the situation was truly desperate.

I'd say this qualifies, Alastor.

A vortex of fire appeared out of nowhere and wrapped itself around the Dark Lord. The flames crackled and roared vigorously, but Sirius smelled nothing burning and jumped into motion a split second before Voldemort broke free of the fire. Immediately, the Dark Lord cast deadly power in Sirius direction, but the Auror was running left already, firing spells as he went.

The advantage to casting without words was that spells could be created as quickly as they could be thought, and Sirius was not foolish enough to fight this duel by classical means. Hundreds of witches and wizards had died trying that, and even the Azkaban Duel had been anything but normal. So he stacked three curses almost on top of one another, hoping that at least one would break through Voldemort's defenses. A moment later, Sirius cast a fourth: a Reductor Curse to follow a Conjunctivitis Charm, a Strike Spell, and a Hammer Curse. Still moving, he watched the spells' multi-colored process as they sped towards Voldemort. Well, it worked for Dumbledore against Grindelwald, Sirius thought, hoping that this Dark Lord had never read the Aurors' dueling case studies.

Either he'd read them, or Voldemort was just fast--he managed to bat the first three spells aside with a contemptuous wave of his wand, and scoffed at Sirius' Reductor Curse. Still, it almost crept through his shields, making Sirius grin slightly--until a park bench reared up and almost slapped him in the face.

"Avada Kedavra!"

He dodged, roiling and hoping to move fast enough to avoid both the bench and the Killing Curse. Cobblestones exploded to his left as Sirius careened right, and suddenly Voldemort was back on the offensive. Even as he rolled up into his old crouch, it was all Sirius could do to block the crisscrossing rainbow of curses coming his way. Not far behind him, Florean Fortescue's exploded, and he heard several people scream. But there was no time to look, or even to care. Sirius managed to stop every spell that attacked him, but he had no chance to cast his own; operating with deep and silent magic, Voldemort was far too fast.

Mind racing, Sirius finally took a chance and thrust his wand forward. "Suffocoum!"

It had been a calculated risk, and he had known that it would cost. A Strike Spell broke through his tattered shields, hitting Sirius full in the chest and sending him flying backwards. This time, he was fortunate enough to land in the street, but the impact still knocked the wind out of him even as Voldemort blocked his attack with apparent ease. Sirius rolled desperately, and watched green light flash where his head had been a mere moment before.

Broken ribs aching, he levered himself back to his feet and paid the Dark Lord back in kind. "Avada Kedavra!"

Far to the side, he heard someone scream in shock and terror. It was nice to see Voldemort dodge, but it would have been far too easy to end the war that simply. Power arched out at him, and Sirius dodged right, only to be hit by an Impediment Curse as soon as he realized that the other spell had been a feint. He staggered, barely managing to stay on his feet and feeling like he was moving underwater. There was no way to move in time to avoid a Cruciatus Curse.

Sailing backwards, Sirius screamed. He landed hard on one of the few upright benches, bouncing off its back edge. Pain flared up his back, making him scream even louder. Still, Sirius' Auror-trained mind noted that something else broke and cracked sharply, but there was no time for him to even guess what. As he hit the ground, his body convulsed wildly, and it only took moments for Sirius to be aware of nothing but the pain. His vision blackened, and a gray haze overwhelmed his already strained mind; there was nothing but the pain. Nothing but blackness. Nothing but... No! He rolled desperately, unable to even breathe through the agony.

The curse followed him.

"Econtra Cruci!" Sirius gasped, struggling to speak through the horrible weight on his chest. But nothing happened. Nothing at all.

The Cruciatus Curse was one of the hardest of all spells to block, but Sirius had been trained to do so, and to do so every time...but his wand shook and his body jerked it out of line. He didn't have the concentration, any concentration... Not like this.

"Vindereperio!" he bellowed, throwing all his strength into that single incantation. What had not worked the first time got through the second, and the scorching pain retreated immediately when the curse rebounded back at the caster.

Voldemort howled in pain.

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"Diagon Alley!"

The shout echoed in Remus' ears while he spun through the multi-colored vortex of the Floo Network. Still, the journey did not last longer than a heartbeat, and when he rolled out of the Public Floo Entrance at the Leaky Cauldron end of Diagon Alley, Dung was waiting. The ex-Auror was crouched against the far left wall with his wand in hand, looking calm--but his scarred face was tight.

"Someone's coming," Fletcher said shortly.

Remus found that his own wand had somehow ended up in his hand by itself. "Are you certain?"

His transfiguration professor shot him a look that Fletcher usually reserved for particularly dense (and often Slytherin) students, but Remus could only shrug in response. His sensitive ears were still adjusting to the chaotic noise level of Diagon Alley--screams filled the air, amplified by the roaring sound of burning buildings. His visions had been bad enough, but Remus had not known that it would be like this. The sounds, the sights, the awful smells of burning flesh and bone...it was sensory overload for a werewolf, especially for one who had so recently transformed. And his connection with the Font of Power only made matters worse; even now, he could feel its presence lurking in the back of his mind. Something important was at hand--

The Dark Mark in the sky--

A scream of pain, the Mark on a bleeding forearm--

Two pairs of eyes, one red, one blue, locked in mortal hatred.

Head spinning, Remus staggered, gripping his wand desperately and struggling to clear his double vision. Leave me alone! he ordered the Font. I don't have time for you!

Miraculously, the visions retreated at his command, leaving Remus with a strangely empty feeling. Suddenly, he felt cold. What do you want of me?

There was no answer.

"Quite sure," Dung answered Remus' already-forgotten question grimly. "I cast a Dark Detector, and we've got at least three Death Eaters coming. Maybe more."

Fletcher had come through the Floo all of thirty seconds before Remus, yet had managed to assess the situation and indemnify the most immediate threats. And he'd done so without blinking an eye, without flinching or hesitating.

The Auror was back.

"Get ready," he said harshly. "Here they come."

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