Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Twenty: Heartbeat

There were moments of his ten year long imprisonment that Sirius could not remember at all. This, however, was not one of them.

This, he remembered.

Sirius was screaming, and the world held only pain.

The world had slipped out from under him, and his face had smacked against the cobblestones--his wand had bounced off someplace else, but he did not know where... All he knew was the pain. Somehow, he had collapsed as the fiery agony tore through him, and he felt his right hand instinctively grab for his left wrist--

Bad idea.

He screamed so loudly that he tasted blood. Maybe he'd bitten his tongue, maybe not--there was no time to care, no way to think, nothing to do or try or fight... There was only pain. He could not see, now, and could not even tell if his eyes were open. The pain controlled his movements, commanded his mind--all he knew was that his body was jerking and he was screaming and that he remembered what this was--

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

James would have paced had he been able. As life stood, he could only sit and stare at the far wall, sit and hopelessly stare. He'd incredulously received the call from Hagrid, had felt his jaw drop open in recognition of Voldemort's audacity--and had wished that he had felt more surprised. The timing and the location had startled him, but not the action...not now. They had all known something had to happen, and James had been waiting.

But what he had not expected was for it to be like this, for him to be stuck, helpless, while others did the work. Somehow, it had never entered the ex-Auror's mind that he would not be a part of the coming battle--that he could not be a part of that battle. Fighting Death Eaters was a risky and dangerous proposition at best, and when you couldn't move fast enough to avoid what you couldn't block...you were dead. Classical duels simply didn't happen during battles, and that was that. An Auror who could not move was a danger to his fellows. Period.

Yet, somehow, his mind had never taken his paralysis into account. James had always assumed that he'd be there to face Voldemort down--it was his job, damnit. He wasn't just a former Auror; he was the Minister of Magic. He was the one directing the damn war, and he was the one who had gotten them into this mess. It was his duty to be there.

And he couldn't.

James snarled, wishing that he could pace, wishing that he could do something, anything, to ease the tension. Duty wasn't the only thing eating at him, though that should have been enough by itself. No, the worst part about it all--he was almost ashamed to admit it, because he was the Minister of Magic and he was an Auror--was knowing that his best friends were in danger, and he couldn't do a damn thing to help them. Pain swelled up in his heart, and James bit his lip, trying and failing to force it away. Sirius was there--does Voldemort know that? Did he plan this?--and Remus had left to help him. Peter was out of the country, engrossed in rather tricky diplomatic negotiations. He had an excuse. James had none.

Except his legs. The damn legs that didn't work at all. "Damnit!"

"They'll do fine, James." A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him; he hadn't meant to speak out loud. Air caught painfully in his chest, and he had to force himself to relax. Tensing up was instinctive, but there was no battle here.

"I hate being so helpless, Lily," he finally replied. "Sirius and Remus are in danger, and I'm just--"

"I know." She squeezed his shoulders, and James felt her body lean against his from behind. "But at least we can see some of it."

"Small consolation, that." James shot a doleful look at Project Guardian, which some strange chance of fate had brought to Grimmauld Place a week before, and Molly Weasley had somehow forgotten to take it home. Stranger things had happened, but...even seeing the names moving in Diagon Alley did not help.

Two names caught his eye, two that were right in the center of the area Lily had zoomed the map in on. Project Guardian couldn't show what was happening, but James thought it would show if someone died... He had to swallow again. Not a good thought, Prongs. Prongs. Never before had thinking that name brought pain.

But it did now. It did because of those two names at the center of Project Guardian--oh, he didn't give a damn about Tom Marvolo Riddle. No, it was the other that he prayed would not disappear. Good luck, Sirius, he thought silently, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them, though, James spotted another name rushing towards the center of Diagon Alley and closing fast. Remus Lupin.

Run, Moony. Run fast.

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Hard on the heels of Lucius Malfoy, Remus struggled to push his way through the nervously milling crowd. It was hard going; everyone wanted to get away, but no one wanted to run, and that left them standing in a muddled mass without purpose. The only consolation seemed to be that Malfoy was having the same problem, but Remus' mind was still whirling under the influence of unwanted visions--

"Looks like it's just you and me, Peter."

Lee Jordan, face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange--

Red light flashed. Someone screamed.

The Dark Mark hanging over a house on a Muggle Street--

Malfoy jumped over a twitching body.

The screams echoing in Remus' ears were not his imagination. And they weren't visions, either. The witch on the ground was screeching and convulsing, writhing madly as if it would free her from the Cruciatus Curse. Remus skidded to a stop at her side. He didn't have the time to waste--but he could not simply ignore her, either. Not unless he wanted to become one of them.

"Finite Incantatum," he said quickly, and she stopped screaming abruptly. So suddenly, in fact, that Remus thought she might have lost consciousness, but the moment that he tried to step over her body, she grabbed his ankle and he fell on top of her in a mess of limbs and wands and screeches.

"You evil Death Eater!" she screamed at him, bringing her oak wand around in an attempt to curse him. Unfortunately, she miscalculated and ended up stabbing it right into his left nostril--

"No, I'm not--"

"DIE!"

Remus barely managed to roll away from the sudden and uncontrolled blast of magical power. She hadn't cast a spell at him; her anger, fear, and pain had simply tried to fry him. How nice, he thought with bitterness that he couldn't help. I try to save her and she tries to kill me.

She scrambled to her feet and towered over him. Remus blinked, staring up at her and wondering how in the world horribly ironic things like this always managed to happen to him--Snape looking him in the eye.

"I'm going to have to betray you."

"I know."

It was the visions again, damn them. Dumbledore had been right; the Font was as much a curse as it was a blessing, even if it was a necessary burden. Rarely useful, rarely understood, all it really did was drive him crazy--I don't have time for this! He didn't have time for anything, actually, and Sirius had even less. The screams he was hearing now did not come from the witch who so desperately wanted to kill him in thanks for saving her life.

Remus jumped to his feet, and without thinking, grabbed her wand in his left hand, ripping it free of her grip. The witch's wide eyes stared at him as soon as she managed to look up from staring at the ground--why was she still staring at where he had been? It was strange how no time seemed to have passed.

But he didn't have time for mysteries any more than he had time for stupid witches and rolling around on the ground. Remus threw her wand away and did not bother to see where it fell.

"I'm not a Death Eater," he snapped, and returned to pushing his way through the crowd. Malfoy was getting away, and Sirius needed him.

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Tonks cast a baleful look at her surroundings, wishing that the nineteen faces looking back didn't seem so wary. They were staring at her in the same way a child looked at bean sprouts, and that wasn't pleasant in the slightest--or even a good metaphor. Biting her lip, she barely managed to keep herself from groaning out loud, and she really wished that she could just wander off into a corner until she figured out what to do with herself.

What the hell was Weasley thinking? she wanted to demand. Leaving me in charge?

"Uh, Tonks...?" Jason Clearwater began expectantly, and his raised eyebrows were identical to everyone else's. Why didn't Weasley pick him? Jason would know exactly what to do, she thought dejectedly. He always does.

Maybe that's the point, a small corner of her mind noted, but Tonks swatted it away. The last thing she needed right now was to think too much. Doing so always, inevitably, got her in trouble.

She tried to glare at Jason, but it fell flat. "Yes?" Tonks finally asked, aware that she sounded peevish, but unable to care. I hate this already.

"So when do we leave?" His smile was blindingly white, and it made her blink. Something about the way Jason was looking at her made Tonks' skin crawl.

"Leave?" she echoed, narrowing her eyes just a little too late.

Clearwater looked at her in the same way he would study an intensely stupid child. "For Diagon Alley."

"Uh, didn't Weasley say to stay here?" Randall O'Keely interjected with a raised eyebrow. But Jason snorted before Tonks could reply.

"Of course he did. That's why we have to go."

"I beg your pardon?" Off to Tonks' right, Cornelia blinked.

This time, Tonks returned the favor and didn't bother to let Jason respond. "In case you've forgotten, we're candidates. We weren't only ordered to stay--we aren't trained enough to do anything, even if we did know the plan."

"Somehow, I doubt anyone has a plan other than getting the hell there as quickly as possible," Dana pointed out. But Tonks felt her eyes widen, and she could not help staring at her friend.

"You think we should go, then." She managed to keep her voice level, but just barely. Dana too? She didn't want to look betrayed, didn't want to feel betrayed, but she did.

"No." Dana glanced at her in surprise. "Not at all."

"Oh." Great, here I go, sticking my leg down my throat yet another time. "Right." Tonks took a deep breath, then started. "All right. Weasley said that we need to post watches and keep the island safe, so--"

"So we stand here and parrot his orders until they all die?" Calvin Waters asked, making the others all jerk back in surprise. Even though a few of them might have agreed with Jason's argument, Calvin's abrupt way of putting it shocked them. Disagreements were one thing; outright antagonism was another, and it made Tonks' temper finally snap.

"And what would you have us do?" she demanded furiously. "Apparate to Diagon Alley and die with them--or worse yet, obstruct whatever plan they have, and get our instructors killed? We are not Aurors, Calvin! There is a reason why we are still in training."

"Yes, training." He rolled his eyes. "Training. Training to be decisive. Training to act. To fight. To--"

"To follow orders when we have to, even if we don't like them," Tonks interrupted him, glaring. "D'you think I like this any better than you do? D'you think that I want to sit here and wait? But we can't do anything other than make things worse, and I refuse to do that."

"I think you're afraid."

"Now, that's enough!" Surprisingly, Jason intervened, grabbing Calvin by the arm and shaking. "I think just like you do, but no one here is a coward. And if we do act, we have to do so now. We've already wasted enough time arguing."

Tonks felt her eyes narrow. If there was one thing she had learned through being a part of the massively dark Black family, it was to fight for what she believed in. "There is no argument. We stay."

"Not if--"

"Unless you have a plan for getting out of here other than Apparation, it's not going to happen," Horace suddenly said, making every head turn.

"Huh?" For once, Jason was taken aback.

Horace gestured, his face unusually drawn. "The Apparation Area. There's a wall between us and it."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Calvin demanded.

"Have you ever been there?" Horace replied, earning himself blank stares from everyone except for Tonks. As exhausting as training was, the majority of the candidates spent all of their spare time sleeping, studying, or practicing--only Horace and Tonks liked to explore. Together, they had covered the entire island, even wandering into places where they knew they shouldn't be: the combination of an inquisitive former Ravenclaw and a sneaky former Slytherin meant that they could sneak almost anywhere, and they never got caught.

Except for that once, but Weasley let us off easily. She resisted the urge to grin at the thought. The others wouldn't understand at all.

"Of course I haven't been there," Calvin scoffed.

"Well, I have. And so has Tonks," Horace replied reasonably. "You can't get in unless the 'walls' are keyed to admit you--and I'm willing to bet that you can't Apparate out, either, unless you're a full Auror. Regardless, that's what Tonks was trying to tell you, if you'd have bothered listening."

"Exactly." Well, it's what I would have said if I'd remembered to, anyway. "We can't leave."

Jason's brown eyes narrowed, but he nodded in Tonks' direction, silently conceding this round to her, yet letting her know that it was in no way the end of the fight. "Well," he sighed. "I guess we might as well be thankful that some of our classmates enjoy wandering around after hours."

"I still think we should try it," Calvin replied.

"No. Tonks is right." The smile he flashed her wasn't nearly as friendly as it could be, and Tonks saw Dana bristle. "We've got watches to set and an island to secure. Let's get to work."

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Screams echoed off the walls, and the crowd pushed back into itself, struggling to back away from whatever horrors Voldemort had unleashed. There had been a sudden silence, and Molly had heard two words, but they were not ones she recognized. From inflection alone she had known that they had to be a spell, but what did "Mors Extoum" mean? What had he done?

Molly was too short to see through the crowd, but she heard Sirius screaming. She did not know for sure how she knew it was Sirius, but it had to be--and he was screaming like a dying man, screaming like someone beyond sanity. The crowd shifted, terrified, but Molly could feel the sick curiosity that permeated the group. They wanted to see, wanted to know, wanted to...wanted to what? She did not know, but knew that none of them would run. No one would flee, not until the end, even though the Anti-Apparation Fields were down.

Even though she'd shouted herself hoarse trying to tell them to escape, no one was going to leave until this was over. She knew that now. The crowd was drawn to this battle by the same thing that drew her--the knowledge that the fate of their world hung in the balance.

For a moment, she wondered if Percy was somewhere in the crowd. A effort to see over the heads of those surrounding her proved futile, even when she stood high on her toes, and Molly had to force back worry for her son. While she knew--or rather, prayed--that Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny were safe (along with Harry and Hermione, of course)--Percy hadn't been in the bookstore with them. Uncharacteristically, he had hurried through buying his school books, and then promised to meet them in an hour, saying that he had to purchase something else for someone. When pressed, her quietest son had only blushed and mumbled, and Molly had let him go, chuckling to herself. At the time, she had reflected that Percy was the one and only Weasley that she could be trusted to stay out of trouble, anyway.

But now trouble had found them, and Percy might be in danger. Knowing that hurt enough, but being unable to do anything--and unable to even shake free of the panicky crowd--only made things worse. Molly had done her part; she had brought the Anti-Apparation Fields down. Now she just wanted to be a mother, and to protect her children.

Molly swallowed hard, and the screams continued.

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"Watch yourself, Harry," Ginny grumbled. "You wouldn't want to put your foot in my mouth."

"Oh. Sorry." Harry blinked furiously; looking through his glasses was beginning to be like trying to see through a cloud of dust. "Was that your mouth?"

"No, it was my left elbow," she replied dryly, making him chuckle despite the tension. To Harry's right, though, Ron was much less amused.

"Did you have to pick such a small place to hide?" he complained, glaring at his older brothers.

Hermione sneezed. "I have to agree. Isn't there somewhere...cleaner?"

"Of course there is," Fred replied promptly.

"Only if you don't mind the Death Eaters and the blood. They're really just there for effect--I hear they do wonders for the decor," George added.

"George!" Ginny glared at him, but both twins ignored her, turning serious.

"Think of it this way, Hermione," Fred continued. "If you don't like this little hole, odds are the Death Eaters won't like it either."

"And Death Eaters have a lot better things to do than crawling around underneath Quality Quidditch Supplies," the other finished.

"Is that where we are?" Ron asked, even as Hermione sighed under her breath.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ginny demanded.

"Oh, not you, too." Hermione groaned, making the twins laugh.

"Yes, Hermione. You are officially the only non-Quidditch fanatic in this...whatever it is," George gloated.

"Hole," Fred supplied.

"Yes, hole. That is the word I was looking for."

"Will you two be quiet?" Hermione hissed. "At the rate you're going, someone is going to hear us."

George snorted. "Speak for yourself. With the way the two of you are arguing, it's a wonder we're not all dead already."

"We weren't arguing--" she objected even as Ron growled,

"You want to be dead?"

"That was really lame, Ronniekins," Fred grinned.

"And you--"

"Shhh!" Suddenly, it was Ginny, who was wearing a pair of glasses that Harry had never seen before. "Someone's coming!"

"How do you know?"

"Because I can see them, that's why," she whispered. "Now shut up, Ron."

Dumbfounded, Ron fell silent, leaving Harry to wonder if he'd ever heard 'little' Ginny speak in such a commanding tone of voice. Harry certainly hadn't; but then again, he hadn't known her all that long. Now, however, Ginny was their eyes--Harry guessed that it had something do to with the glasses, but there was no way to know.

She finally let out a relieved breath. "Oh. It's just the storekeeper and a few others," she whispered. "No Death Eaters."

The pounding in Harry's ears lessened to a dull roar, and he let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding. Everyone was quiet for a long moment, trying to calm racing hearts and pretend that they weren't afraid, and Harry let out a long breath before asking quietly, "You can see them?"

"With the glasses." Ginny nodded. "Dumbledore gave them to me."

"Nice," Ron breathed.

"Very nice," Fred agreed. "Unless you use them to watch your brothers through the walls, of course."

"That's disgusting, Fred." Ginny rolled her eyes, and Harry found himself grinning.

"Speaking of disgusting," George said suddenly, "You can see the Death Eaters, right?"

"Sort of. I can see through walls, but the glasses only work for a certain distance. I can't see any Death Eaters, which means none of them are close," she replied.

"Thank goodness," Hermione said quietly.

"Definitely," Ron agreed. "That means we can get out without being seen."

Harry's head snapped around so fast that his neck hurt. He gaped at his friend. "What?"

"That means we can get out and help," Ron said.

"Help who?" Hermione demanded.

"Why, Sirius, of course. And Mum. And everyone else." Fred nodded emphatically. "We have to do something."

Harry felt his chest clench into a knot. "We can't."

The others turned to stare at him, even Hermione--Harry wasn't known for being careful, or cautious, or not taking risks. He'd always had a habit of charging into situations without pausing to evaluate the dangers involved; poor Hermione was always holding him back, and even that didn't work very well. But today was different, and he had a rock stuck in his stomach.

"We can't," he repeated quietly. "Do you realize what Sirius is doing out there? Do you realize what he's risking?"

"Yes, and that's the point," Ron said urgently. "We can't just sit here--we need to help."

Hermione shook her head to cut Ron off before he could continue. "What are you saying, Harry?"

He sucked in a deep breath and then took the plunge. "I'm saying that there is nothing we can do." Harry couldn't believe that he was even thinking these words, let alone saying them. His voice dropped to a whisper. "We're kids."

"We can still help. Anyone can help," George argued.

"No." Harry shook his head. "Not today. He killed Dumbledore, remember? Killed countless others...what good can we do, other than be next?"

Ron stared at him, aghast. "Harry...?"

"Are you alright?" Fred asked. "You sound..."

"Strange, I know." But Harry could only shrug. "But I think, I know, that this isn't a battle that we are meant to fight. I don't think that anyone is. Except Sirius."

"He's facing Voldemort, Harry," Ron pointed out nervously.

"I know. And I hate it, too." Harry swallowed. "But we can't help."

Hermione suddenly nodded in quiet agreement. "All we can do is hurt."

"I hate doing nothing," he admitted. "But Sirius wanted us to stay safe. The least we can do is make sure that he doesn't have to worry about us, too."

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

He could hear their breathing behind him. It was steady and controlled, despite the breakneck pace he was setting, and Snape grimaced as he realized that at least three of his pursuers were younger than he was, and all of them were undoubtedly in better physical shape. But he'd never been an athlete. He'd never needed to be.

And the damnedest part of it all was that he needed every bit of athleticism that he possessed to run from people he was trying desperately to save. Idiots! He wanted to scream that back over his shoulder at them, wanted to tell them that he was on their bloody side, for Merlin's sake! But doing so wouldn't have helped, even if they did believe him--it would probably only end up with them all dead, despite his best efforts.

Just my luck. I manage not to kill any of them, then try to lead them to where they can actually do some good, and one of them will probably hex me from behind because I run too damn slow! Snape was surprised to find himself laughing bitterly. But he stopped immediately; laughing and running were, apparently, not a good combination.

I'm too old for this shit.

Something exploded to his right, and he thought it was the Giant Spider Shop, but there was no time to look. Someone had missed his head by an inch or so, for which he was exceedingly not grateful. Probably Jones, he thought clinically. She always was the impatient type. Almost immediately after the thought crossed his mind, Snape heard her voice shouting:

"Stupefy!"

He barely dodged in time, and ended up bouncing off the wall where Knockturn Alley bended left to meet with Diagon Alley. Snape hit the wall, rolled right, and jumped to his feet as quickly as possible. The last thing he needed was to be killed by one of his own allies--and it was a rather flimsy excuse to think that she was only trying because she didn't know. At the moment, minor details did not matter at all to Snape. All that mattered was staying alive long enough to let the idiotic Aurors do their jobs.

One step later, he froze.

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Updated: 03 January 2005 to reflect the deletion of Prelude to Promises.