Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

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Chapter Twenty-One: The Price of Freedom

An ordinary man would have expected the blackness to recede, but Sirius had no such illusions. He knew better. He knew what this was.

How long had he been screaming? His throat was already raw, and he had lost all sense of time. Sirius thought that he had blacked out for a moment, but there was no way to be sure--the pain made him feel divorced from the present, stuck in the past and utterly helpless. It was as if ten years of hell had wrapped their fiery arms around Sirius and were squeezing the life out of him. For a long time, it felt like nothing had changed, and all he could do was scream.

But awareness slowly crept back in. Somehow, despite the pain, he was beginning to remember. Within those memories were many things that he would rather not recall, of course, but there were others, too. There was more. Sirius would never know if it was because of willpower or something different, but then the burning blackness began to fade.

He lay on the ground, struggling for air and tasting blood. Merlin only knew where his wand was; it had flown somewhere when he collapsed, when he did not care. His body was shaking erratically, and it felt heavy, tainted, and weak. Sirius felt every breath burn in his chest as his broken ribs objected to the strain, but he felt the pain in his soul even more acutely. He felt cold.

Footsteps approached, slow and measured, controlled and triumphant. A corner of Sirius' mind screamed that the footsteps were bad, and that he had to act--but his body would not listen. All it would do was shake and convulse, and it took all the strength he had to blink the tears out of his eyes. Suddenly, he wanted the blackness. He wanted the cushion it provided, wanted to hide from the rest of the world. Sirius yearned for peace, for quiet...and he wanted to let the coldness take him, even though he knew that was not the answer.

A booted foot contacted with his ribs and he moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. Pain flared as he was pushed over to his back, but Sirius didn't even bother to focus. Somehow, he could not bring himself to fight. The fiery arms of darkness had wrapped their arms around him and it was over.

Cold laughter made him blink instinctively. Slowly, the Dark Lord came into focus, first as a blurry shape, then as a dark outline with burning red eyes. He stood over Sirius with a mocking smile, his wand pointed directly at the other's heart.

"What was it that you told me, Black?" he asked amicably. "Oh, I remember. You said that I did not own you."

A satisfied grin split the frightening face, and all Sirius could do was stare as his soul recoiled in horror. His body was made of lead; it would not move. He looked up helplessly, feeling the coldness worm its way into his soul and unable to stop it. Voldemort laughed.

"I do own you, Sirius," he said. "I own your heart, body, mind, and soul."

In the distance, someone moaned, but by the time Sirius realized the significance, it was too late. He tried to speak, to object with half a heart to the Dark Lord's words, but all that came out was a helpless croak. And then everything happened at once.

Moving too quickly for eyes to follow, Voldemort bent down, and Sirius felt a cold hand close around his left wrist. Pain flared from his arm, and coldness, such coldness--he screeched in pain. For a terrifying moment, his vision went completely black, and all he felt was pain, pain and harsh darkness.

The Dark Lord possessed strength that was hidden by his slim form. When Sirius' eyes finally began to function again, he found that Voldemort had hauled him upright and forced him to his knees. The cold hand was like iron on Sirius' burning forearm, but he struggled to hold the pain inside. Then the hand squeezed hard, making him scream again. His throat burned.

"Look, all of you!" the Dark Lord shouted. "Look at your so-called hero!"

Slowly, Sirius forced himself to open his eyes, and he blinked dizzily, unable to even contemplate fighting. His mind was a whirlwind mess of agony and coldness, of darkness... Voldemort's laughter echoed loudly in his ears.

Only then did Sirius remember the crowd. His blurred vision picked up faces, features, terrified looks and tense figures. They were staring at him every bit as helplessly that he was staring back, except he was supposed to be their protector. He was supposed to fight--and he had fought. But he had been defeated, and now the innocent souls who had been trapped in Diagon Alley would watch him fall.

"Look at what he bears!"

A horrified moan tore through the crowd, and Sirius knew what they saw. Even without ever having actually seen it, he knew--and he could not bear to look. Ignoring it would change nothing, but looking at it would not either.

Frightened whispers spread the word. Yes, that was what they thought it was, and yes it was real. Sirius could feel the blood dripping down his forearm, and knew that it was real this time, not hidden like it had been for the past four years. Even if the crowd had not reacted with such fear and horror, he would have felt the difference. This was not the dark weight that had been chained to his soul for so long. This was hell itself come to claim him. Someone screamed, pointing, but still Sirius did not look down. He did not need to. He knew what they saw.

They saw the Dark Mark, burning red and angry upon his forearm, bleeding as if it had been cut in with a knife. They saw Voldemort's brand on him, the symbol under which he had waged war on innocents for almost twenty years. And unknowingly, they saw the stain upon his soul, the dark secret Sirius had carried with him ever since his escape from Azkaban.

Voldemort squeezed again, and Sirius screamed, his body convulsing against the Dark Lord.

"Not so strong now, are you, old friend?" the voice whispered in his ear.

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, not even knowing how he was going to reply, but was cut off when the cold fingers tightened on the Mark. Helplessly, Sirius screamed again.

"You were almost a hero," Voldemort continued cheerily. "Almost their savior. You were so close..." he chuckled. "So close."

Suddenly, the rounded point of a wand dug into his neck. For some reason, Sirius had not been expecting it, and it made him tense. "You were almost the ideal hero. Always so courageous. Always so strong." The wand twisted, making Sirius gasp. "But not any more.

"Now you will die. And you will do so on my terms, while they watch their only hope break."

"I haven't broken," Sirius rasped, finally finding his voice.

A soft laugh. "You will."

"Nev--"

He screamed as hard fingers tightened on his arm once more, and felt the darkness rise to meet his defiance. It felt as if Voldemort's cold hands were gripping his soul, and Sirius fought back, even though he knew it was pointless. The analogy came closer to the truth than Sirius would have thought possible.

A long moment passed, as the pain ripped through his body and the freezing darkness warred for control of his soul. Sirius knew not how long it was, only that the agony robbed him of strength, of vision, of will to resist...but something deep inside him simply acknowledged those losses and drove on. He was gasping for air amid screams of pain, but Sirius suddenly knew that he had to act. With a wand pressed to his neck and a burning hand on his throat, there was no way to move, there was no chance--Sounds just like the rest of my life. Fighting an uphill battle against hopeless odds.

The bitter thought cleared his mind, and as Voldemort loosened his grip on Sirius' arm, the Auror acted almost without thinking.

He shot to his feet and spun left, forcing his battered body to move through the weakness and the pain. His wind was shattered and his limbs unresponsive; Sirius knew that he only had one chance, and he could not afford to waste it. Feeling him twist, Voldemort reacted quickly--but not quickly enough. He was still thinking in terms of magic, and though the Dark Lord's hand tightened on Sirius' arm and agony tore through him, momentum carried Sirius through. His right hook caught Voldemort square in the face.

They both fell backwards, Voldemort reeling as blood spurted from his nose, and Sirius collapsing in pain. Finally free, the Auror rolled right on instinct, ignoring the way his body tried to object. There wasn't time to think. There wasn't even time to feel. There was only time to act.

His fingers closed on wood. Dark wood, to be exact: twelve inches of ebony with a phoenix feather core, wood he knew well. Holding onto it for dear life, Sirius rolled into his dueling crouch, feeling his broken ribs scream and pain shoot up his back from something else. But there was not time for pain.

Red light flashed through the air before he'd even started to think of a spell--and it was not a spell, per se, just a personification of his pain, rage, and fear. The flash of light was like a child's uncontrolled magic, raw and unintentional, but dangerous all the same. The light took Voldemort high in the chest and knocked him back several feet; the Dark Lord landed hard on his back, leaving Sirius to maliciously hope that he'd broken something. But his opponent scrambled up quickly, blood streaming form his broken nose and eyes burning with fury.

If there was one thing Sirius was sure that no one else had ever done, it was punching Lord Voldemort in the face.

For a split second, he grinned, but the humor of the moment faded when he had to throw himself out of the way of a killing curse. His body burning, Sirius shot off a reply, but it was of no use--he was too slow and too weakened. It was only a matter of time, now. There was no denying what years of training made clear. He could play cat and mouse with Voldemort for a few minutes, but the outcome was assured.

Sirius rolled again, wishing that his body would move faster as he caught the edge of an Imperius Curse and had to waste precious seconds countering its muted affects. A hasty shield barely managed to block whatever Voldemort threw at him--what was that, anyway?--and then Sirius staggered out of his crouch and to his feet.

"Extundo!" he bellowed, desperate to get through before his body collapsed. Sirius knew that he only had minutes to waste, knew that despite the pain and the Dark Mark, the Quick Heal Spell was still in effect and it would not last much longer. Without it, though, he would have been unable to move, and Sirius knew it.

The Hammer Curse ate through the Dark Lord's shield and struck, made stronger by Sirius' determination and pain. It struck Voldemort hard enough to make him sway but not fall, and Sirius gritted his teeth. That had very nearly been the best he had to offer, and it hadn't even knocked his opponent off of his feet. His body felt like it was moving in slow motion compared to Voldemort, and Sirius barely blocked the retaliation curse. I'm fading fast, he realized. My lack of focus is going to kill me.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about that, either.

Suddenly, Voldemort's wand ripped around, sending silver chains swirling in Sirius' direction. For a moment, the dizzy Auror was mesmerized by the shiny and twisting links, but his instincts screamed warning just in time, and he dodged to the right, almost collapsing in the process. A desperate and badly aimed Disintegration Curse missed the chains entirely, then he managed to connect with a Blasting Curse that tore the chains into pieces. Then a Strike Spell hit him full on and sent Sirius sailing backwards.

Something cracked when he hit the ground, and Sirius wondered if it might not be another rib or something more important. But he was almost beyond pain, and he hauled himself upright once again, staggering and barely lifting his wand in time to block a Reductor Curse. Dizzy and trying to blink his way out of the vortex he'd wandered into, Sirius took one unsteady step to the right and immediately regretted it. The world spun, and he almost fell, stumbling to keep his balance.

"Imperio!" Voldemort thundered, and Sirius could not move in time. Immediately, he was enveloped in warmth, and the pain went away--

No! His tattered soul had not given up yet, and somehow he managed to throw the curse aside.

"Conteriaco!" he shouted, staggering again.

Voldemort blocked it with ease, but then all hell broke loose.

"Stupefy!"

"Imperio!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Everbero!"

A light show flashed in the sky, and the only thing that saved Sirius from the Killing Curse was the fact that his right knee had once again refused to support his weight and collapsed out from under him. The crowd screamed and shifted with sudden terror, no longer paralyzed by the duel as they had been. Several people in its front ranks flew without warning, and Sirius saw one fly several feet as if pushed by an invisible giant. Then red light flashed from behind the Dark Lord, and a familiar voice cried:

"Look out!"

Snape. How lovely. More Death Eaters were exactly what Sirius needed, and if he hadn't been doomed before, he certainly was now. And then from his left, Lucius Malfoy emerged from the crowd, rushing towards Sirius--it was his Killing Curse that had almost connected, the Auror realized belatedly, and forced himself to his feet once more. But he didn't dare turn to face Malfoy--doing so would expose his back to Voldemort, and that meant certain death.

Without warning, another flash of red light came from behind the Dark Lord, and Sirius saw the edge of Snape's robes catch fire where the curse almost connected. The Death Eater dove out of Knockturn Alley, then, with Frank Longbottom, Bill Weasley, Hestia Jones, and Kingsley Shacklebolt right on his heels.

Sirius would have cheered if doing so wouldn't have taken up so much energy. How the Aurors had gotten there, how they had known, did not matter at the moment--Sirius was no longer facing this alone, and that was what counted. For the first time, he even started to think he might survive the day.

Malfoy targeted him again, though, and Sirius barely blocked it in time, half-turning to face the Death Eater even as his broken--it was definitely broken--right knee tried to collapse again. But even as he moved, Voldemort fired another curse at him, and Sirius jumped back without thinking. Landing, however, proved to be impossible, and he fell again. He landed on his knees just in time to see Malfoy take aim once more.

A jet of light hit Malfoy between the shoulder blades, and the Death Eater fell right on his face. Remus jumped over the prone body without missing stride.

"Sirius!" Remus' wand pointed at his head, and Sirius immediately threw himself to the ground as red light flashed over him. Although he could not see it, Sirius could tell from the noise that his friend's spell had hit Voldemort, infuriating the Dark Lord.

Remus reached his side even as Sirius rolled to his knees once more. "I've never been so glad to see you," Sirius rasped, taking the offered hand and glad for the help. He doubted that he could stand on his own.

"You always were the trouble maker," Remus replied with a tight smile just as movement caught Sirius' eye.

"Get down!"

He did not wait for his friend to comply; Sirius simply let his body collapse and dragged Remus down with him, watching green light flash overhead yet again. Mulciber and Flint had chased Remus through the crowd, and Dung Fletcher was right behind them. Sirius fired off a spell and saw it hit Flint, but the pair kept coming--and he had been aiming at Mulciber.

"This just keeps getting better and better," he snarled. Speaking made his chest burn.

"Stay down." Remus jumped to his feet and engaged the pair of Death Eaters.

"Like hell." Sirius managed to force himself into his old crouch, and hoped that no one noticed that that was as far as he could get.

"Sirius--"

"No time for that." He grabbed Remus' arm and dragged him into a crouch just in time to keep another curse from hitting his friend. Malfoy was back on his feet again, but the curse hadn't come from him.

Damn.

Another half turn brought him face to face with Voldemort once again, and the Dark Lord was firing off curses rapidly, not seeming to care who he hit. As Sirius watched, helpless and trying to shake off the vertigo, three people in the crowd went down, dead. All because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fury suddenly cleared his vision.

"Everbero!" he shouted, and watched the Strike Spell hit hard, blasting Voldemort straight back into Snape. But the Death Eater/spy/Why are you always in the right place at the right time? reacted quickly enough to keep the Dark Lord from falling.

Cold red eyes focused on Sirius alone. "Avada Kedavra!"

He threw himself aside, rolling purposefully into Remus so that the curse didn't miss him and take out his friend instead. Remus yelped in surprise and cobblestones exploded, pelting both of them with rubble. Sirius twisted painfully, sending himself in the opposite direction as soon as he could--he last thing he needed was for Voldemort to target the two of them together, in which case he would undoubtedly hit at least one. But another curse did not come, and as Sirius gasped for air, he noticed that the street had grown strangely quiet.

Slowly, he lifted his head, and realized that Voldemort was gone. Malfoy, Mulciber, Flint, and Snape were gone, too--it was over. It was well and truly over.

Sirius hauled himself to his knees again--well, to one knee; his right did not want to respond at all. For the first time, he noticed the smoke in the air, the holes gouged in the street, and the smell of burning wood and flesh. Flames still danced in the burned-out remnants of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, and the fire had spread east to the magical instruments shop where it was currently in the process of lazily eating at the roof. Hapless pedestrians wandered to and fro, completely ignoring the flames despite the fact that any one of them could have extinguished the fire with a spell. Many of them sported burns or bruises of some sort, and Sirius could see the outline of several charred bodies that hadn't escaped before Fortescue's had exploded.

People were beginning to move around. As Sirius stared at the gaping entrance of Gringotts', which looked strangely like a mouth without its outside doors, the silver inside doors opened, and a large group came creeping out. They looked around nervously, taking in the carnage with wide and frightened eyes. Several people pointed in his direction, but Sirius could not bring himself to care.

"Sirius?" It was Remus, who towered over him like some strange goliath. Sirius blinked and turned his head slowly, blinking as colors started to run together.

"Yeah." He managed a half smile. It was the best he could do.

His left arm was still throbbing, sending continuous waves of fiery pain through his body. The rest of his aches and pains had formerly seemed pale in comparison, but now they were beginning to be felt with a vengeance, and Sirius could feel each broken bone shifting with every breath he took. Still, he was almost numb, and he knew that the pain wasn't as bad as it could be.--or as bad as it would get. He was coming down off of an adrenaline high, Sirius realized, and the combination of that and the Quick Heal Spell was why he could still force himself to move.

"Can you stand?" Remus asked quietly.

"I think so." Sirius took a deep breath, and willed his vision to stop swimming. "But not for long. I used a Quick Heal," he explained. "I probably have fifteen minutes before it wears off.

"All right." Remus frowned worriedly, but he kept his peace. "Here." He offered a hand to help Sirius up, which the Auror took gratefully.

"Thanks, Moony." Sirius winced despite himself, trying not to breathe hard. The crowd was creeping closer.

"You're a mess, mate," his friend replied.

The sudden need to cough assaulted him, but Sirius held it back. He had no idea what coughing would feel like, and had no desire to find out. "No kidding."

Gingerly, Sirius tested his right leg out, and found that it felt surprisingly numb. Unresponsive, yes, but more numb than painful, which he immediately took as a bad sign. The only time his leg had ever acted like this was when he'd escaped from Azkaban, putting enormous amounts of strain on an already broken bone. Sirius sighed to himself. I've got to stop doing this to myself. Quickly approaching footsteps made him look up from his futile stare at his leg, and Sirius forced a half smile. The Aurors, led by Frank Longbottom, stopped directly between Sirius and the crowd.

"I was going to ask if you were all right, but I can see the answer," Frank said quietly.

"I've been better, yeah," Sirius replied, gently pulling away from Remus' supporting grip. His friend shot him a worried glance. "I'm okay."

Frank's eyes scanned the crowd. It was amazing how well only three Aurors could keep curious onlookers back. "What do you want us to do?"

Sirius almost asked why in the world he should know, but he stopped himself. Like it or not, Sirius was the head of the Aurors, and, despite his own desires on the subject, was also the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. It was the first time in decades that the two jobs had been combined, but the Ministry wasn't exactly at its best. He let out a quiet breath.

"Coordinate damage control," he finally said. "Get a hold of James and have him send someone from Magical Accidents and Catastrophes--hopefully not Fudge or Umbridge--and get their help dealing with this. Also, see if you can't get any volunteers to help clean up this rubble and put the fires out."

He took a deep breath. "Anyone who doesn't want to volunteer goes home. Period. Clean the whole area out, except for shopkeepers, volunteers, and Ministry employees. You also might want to bring the candidates here to help."

"Right." Frank nodded immediately. "I'll also have Alice contact all the active Aurors and send them here."

"Good idea." Sirius coughed, and felt ribs rattle around in his chest. For a moment, the world spun, and he thought that he might fall, but his vision cleared after a few seconds, leaving him with a familiar lightheaded feeling. The Quick Heal was beginning to wear off.

Frank saw it, too. "I suggest you head to Avalon," he said quietly. "It's the only place we know for sure is safe."

"I agree." Oh, he hated to hide, but Sirius knew he had to. Remus, however, frowned.

"You need to go to St. Mungo's, Sirius."

"I can't." Slowly, he turned to look his friend in the eye, speaking softly. "I won't endanger anyone else, Remus, and if he chases me there, I won't stand a chance."

For a long moment, Remus studied his face. Finally, though, he nodded. "Be careful, Padfoot."

"I will."

"I'll see what I can't do to help here," the other continued, turning to look at Frank. "I assume that you can use another hand?"

"Most definitely," Longbottom replied emphatically. Then he looked over his shoulder and called, "Bill!"

Weasley jogged up, leaving Shacklebolt and Jones to deal with the now-inquisitive crowd--which included, Sirius noticed, several reporters. Including Rita Skeeter. Oh, joy.

Weasley's green eyes flickered over Sirius for a moment, and he winced slightly. Sirius wished that he wouldn't, but the younger man had already had his share of encounters with Voldemort, so he held back the remark he might have otherwise made. Bill looked at Frank. "Yes?"

"Go back to Avalon with Sirius," the senior instructor ordered. "Bring fifteen of the candidates back with you and leave the other five to keep the island secure."

"Got it." Bill glanced at Sirius just as the world tried to take another spin. "Can you Apparate?" he asked quietly.

He gritted his teeth. "I can if we leave soon."

"Then let's not waste time."

"That's the best idea I've heard all--"

"Mr. Black!" a voice suddenly shouted. "Sirius!"

"Hey! Get back here, you!" Hestia Jones was right on Skeeter's tail, but the ugly witch was sprinting towards Sirius. Another reporter tried to follow her, but was dissuaded by Kingsley's bulk and nasty glare.

Skeeter rushed forward, waving her Quick Quotes Quill in the air like a sword. She only stopped when faced with three raised wands--everyone in the small group had pointed one at her, except for Sirius. And he definitely would have done so if he hadn't been so damn tired. She glared, then opened her mouth to bombard them with questions.

Longbottom got in first. "Can we help you?" he grated.

"Well, no." Skeeter gave him a nasty look. "You can't."

Sirius resisted the urge to groan. Bill didn't.

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask your questions another time," Remus interjected before tempers could fly. He lowered his wand, and after a long moment, Frank and Bill followed suit.

"I'm afraid that I don't have any questions for you, Remus Lupin," Skeeter retorted imperiously. "Although at another time, I might be interested in asking Hogwarts' elusive werewolf about any accidents involving the student body."

Remus didn't even blink, but she smiled nastily at him anyway, then turned her attention to Sirius.

"I was just leaving." He returned her nasty smile, aware that his was tight with pain, but unable to care.

"But--"

"Maybe in another lifetime," he cut her off rudely, then turned to Bill. "You ready?"

"Let's go."

Raising his wand, Sirius closed his eyes and concentrated on Avalon.

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