Acts Infernal

And those that scorned their brothers here
And sowed a wind of shame
Will reap the whirlwind as of old
And face relentless flame.
Vachel Lindsay

"No looking back," Harry kept repeating, as he ran. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..."

Satan reared up in front of him now, drawing closer with surprising speed. He was a giant of a creature, frozen up to his armpits in ice; his body was covered with shaggy, dead grey hair, and his fingers ended in tapered claws, like Hades, only a thousand times more vicious. Harry saw, with the clarity of absolute terror, small barbs covering them, stabbing the bleeding, writhing bodies he held in his hands, which had long since ceased to even resemble humans.

He had only one head, but three faces, and his mouths were fixed on the creatures in his grasp.

"Oh," Harry said, skidding across the ice before he could slam into the body of the Prince of Darkness himself. "Shit..."

He stared up in awe, at the giant chest, pocked with holes larger than Harry was, who could see that there were iron bars set into his very skin, across the gaps. He reached out to touch the bars of the nearest one, and a snarling, vicious monster leapt at him from the shadows. He jumped back, and the man -- just barely recognisable as such -- stretched an arm through, trying to grab him.

"Kid, let me out. Let me out, kid. I swear to god it wasn't my fault," the man burbled. "My name's Alberigo. I was a preacher. Let me out, kid, please."

A chorus of howls and wails rose out of the other cells as other wretched souls took up the plea.

"Have mercy!" "Oh Christ!" "Please let me out -- " "I'll do anything!" "Oh God --"

Harry looked at Alberigo's trembling, withered hand, in wonder. He reached out his own, and Alberigo tried to pull him against the bars. He jerked away just in time.

"Tell me the way out and I'll free you," he said, surprised at how calm his own voice sounded. Anything would, compared to the bedlam around them. Alberigo looked sullen.

"Go left," he said. "Under the wing. There's a tunnel. I've seen others go that way -- now let me out!" he shrieked, throwing himself frantically against the bars.

Harry felt a small smile curve his lips, although shame was filling him. "A traitor expects not to be betrayed?" he asked.

Alberigo began to scream at the top of his lungs; Harry, cautiously, stepped into the shadows behind the great shaggy limbs of Satan.

He couldn't even turn back to tell Sirius the way --

"YOU SAID YOU'D FREE ME!" Alberigo wailed, one voice among many, as Harry vanished from sight.

***

Sirius, when he heard the scream, saw Tom slide across the ice, and didn't have to double back too far; Tom was righting himself by the time he got there, and Sirius extended a hand, bracing himself on the slippery ice, grateful for the rough soles of the Roman boots he wore. He put his hand on Tom's chest to steady the lad.

"Can you run?" he asked.

Tom, looking over his shoulder, turned pale. "I don't think I have a choice," he said. Hades was almost upon them.

Sirius nearly pulled him off his feet as they started to run again -- Draco clinging to Sirius' back for dear life, Tom cursing and limping as he ran.

"Real functional wings would come in terrifically handy right about now!" Sirius yelled, over Hades' enraged roars.

"As long as we're wishing, a submachine gun couldn't hurt!" Tom shouted back. "Save your breath for running!"

It seemed like an eternity before they reached Satan, and as the demon's form began to show clearly, Tom moaned under his breath.

"I think this is where I say something smart about the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea," he shouted. Sirius, however, was already leading them aside. He pointed to Harry, just disappearing, and ignored the tormented cries of the souls trapped inside the great shaggy body.

"Follow me!" he shouted, turning, but too late; a shadow descended, and a handful of Satan's claws slammed down around them, forming a small, circular prison, filled with deadly barbs.

One of the creatures dropped from Satan's mouth to the ice, and whimpered softly.

"The boy is Mine." Satan's voice was like a rasp across their senses, more pain and hatred than actual sound. Sirius tightened his grip on Draco.

"Fight Hades for him, then," he said defiantly.

The rumbling suddenly stopped. Tom turned slowly, and saw Hades, standing not more than a few metres away, on the other side of their prison.

"The boy is Mine," Satan repeated.

"They all three belong to me, and a fourth thou let escape!" Hades shouted.

"This is My domain, not yours," Satan replied calmly.

"I am thy lord!" Hades screamed.

Satan laughed. Sirius clapped his hands to his ears, releasing Draco, who slid to the ground, standing quite still.

"If Myself had wanted a lord," he crowed, "Myself would have remained an angel."

Tom and Sirius, still recovering from the sound of the laughter, didn't notice Draco reaching into his cloak.

"I think I resent that," Tom said, under his breath. "I'm an angel and you don't see me with a lord."

"Anymore," Sirius murmured.

"Point."

"When I run," Draco said suddenly, "Go where Harry went. Don't argue," he added. "Just do it."

Draco turned to the claw, almost as tall as he was, and leaned forward, sinking his teeth into the furred flesh above it. Satan screamed in rage, and his fingers twitched. It was all the slim blond boy needed to slip through; all the opportunity Sirius and Tom needed, to roll under the raised claw and begin to run on the hard, frost-crusted ice.

"I remember a story," Draco said, standing next to the pocks in the ice where Satan's claws had been. Sirius dodged Satan's attempt to catch him in his claws, and continued on. "I remember this story about a serpent and an apple..."

He saw Sirius and Tom vanish, and took his hand out of his cloak. A small red apple sat in it, shining in the light.

"You want me? Come for me," Draco shouted, and hurled the apple at Satan, roaring in rage. The apple arced up and over, and Draco's aim was true; it flew straight into the screaming mouth, and the noise stopped, suddenly, as the monster choked.

The other two traitors' bodies fell to the ground as Satan put both hands to his throat, barbs tearing his own flesh. Hades stared in horror and Draco began to run, past the strange, misshapen bodies that were beginning to push themselves up, to howl with fury and go after Hades, effectively blocking the Lord of the Underworld's path.

He darted around the way that he'd seen Sirius go, and was faced with the huge, freezing, flapping wings of a panicked Satan. There were no entrances; just chill wind and darkness.

And then light, the real yellow light of the upper world, spilled out from behind the membrane of his wings, and Draco felt it hit him, and he laughed.

"Yes," he said softly, dodging towards the rough rock gateway. He was almost there --

A wild swing of Satan's wing caught him in the back of the head, knocking him forward into the brightly-lit cave, and he saw stars.

"He defied Satan," he heard Tom say, as he passed out. "I think that's one for the record books."

***

Grey dawn was beginning to rise.

Remus Lupin slept, sitting on the ground, back against a fencepost, knees drawn up against his chest. The carving he'd been working on lay on the fencepost, almost finished; a little figurine of a dog, not deftly done but somehow elegant in its purity of shape. The Smithy entrance was dark, except for the strange blue half-light that is cast just before sunrise.

Remus lifted his head, sleepily, as something woke him; a change in the light, from blue to an odd sea-green --

The Smithy was moving.

His eyes widened and he stood, stumbling a little, moving forward to catch a figure coming out. Harry fell into his arms, a wide cut across his face bleeding, the cheekbone purple and ugly.

"Harry?" Remus asked, cupping his chin. He dragged him away from the entrance, helped him to stand fully. "Are you all right? You've been hurt -- "

"It's nothing, I'm fine," Harry said quickly, coughing up dust and phlegm. "I'm all right."

"What happened?"

Harry drew a hand across his face, smearing the blood. "We had to run," he said, coughing again. "I don't know if they made it or not. I can't look, I'm not allowed." Another fit of coughing. "You look."

Remus did look, then, at the green-lit mouth of the entrance to the Smithy. Another figure emerged -- a silhouette, too slim and delicate to be Sirius, carrying a boy in unfamiliar clothing, who could only be Draco, even under a mass of strange marks on his face. His blond hair glinted, even in the dim light.

The man -- it was a man, in a ragged green shirt, dusty trousers, and of all things, a Quidditch glove -- lifted one arm and put a finger to his lips in an exaggerated gesture for silence. He moved forward, laying Draco on the ground, and another man emerged.

Remus caught his breath as the green glow faded.

"You can turn now, Harry," said the strange boy. "Who's your friend?"

Remus was still staring, stricken, at the final figure that had come from the Smithy.

"I'm Tom," the boy added, holding out a hand. "This is Harry and that's Draco," he said, as though speaking to an idiot. "And that's -- "

"Sirius," Remus breathed. Harry turned, finally, and the pair of them stood there, both staring. "Oh, Sirius," Remus repeated.

Sirius stood next to the unconscious Draco, a cat in his arms; he was still wearing the Roman armour, and he looked vaguely alien, in the green, tree-grown landscape.

"Well done, Harry," he said. "Hallo, Moony." He held up the scrawny animal. "Draco nearly left his cat behind."

Remus was still staring in silence, too stunned to speak.

"You know," Tom said, breaking the tension, "It's been a while since I was here last, but I'm nearly certain we ought to do something for the silver boy. Nasty blow he took."

Remus, swallowing, dropped to his knees next to Draco and reached out to take his pulse, Sirius crouching nearby. He lifted his eyelids, held his mouth open, listened to his heart.

"I think he'll be all right," he said. "I can feel the bruising. We should take him to St. Mungo's."

Remus lifted him, standing, and one hand held Draco's head against his shoulder. Sirius faced him, still carrying the cat.

"Don't disappear," Remus said softly. "I might think it was just a dream."

"If you go, I'll know it is," Sirius answered. Remus shook his head.

"I have to take Draco."

"Then I'll go with you." Sirius glanced at Harry, who smiled tiredly and shook his head. With a curt nod, Sirius turned back to the brown-haired man. Tom and Harry watched as they Disapparated, both at once.

Wind blew through the trees, gently, and the first true gold light began to dawn on the countryside. Harry's fingers drifted over a bit of carved wood that someone had left on the fencepost, thoughtfully.

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" Tom said brightly. "Bit of a jaunt, eh?"

"Don't make me hurt you, Tom," Harry replied.

"And you're very welcome for helping save your friend."

"He's not my friend."

"No, but you're his."

Harry scowled as Tom led the way out of the clearing, onto the winding dirt road that would lead them towards the highway.

"Guess we walk, eh?" Tom asked. "Never hurt anyone. Say, it's cold out, isn't it?"

"See you've still got your wings," Harry replied. Tom stretched them, then folded them slowly against his back. The skewed wing seemed to have healed; perhaps some injuries healed quickly in the Aboveway, Harry thought, wiping blood from his cheek.

"Reckon that brown-haired fellow knows what he's doing?" Tom asked, as they walked through the poppies.

"As much as anyone does," Harry answered.

"What do you suppose I ought to do, now that I'm back amongst the living?"

"Anything you want, I should think."

"What do you think your man Black is going to do? My apologies, by the way. I underrated the man. Vastly."

"Dunno. Wait for us at the hospital, I suppose."

They walked in silence until they reached the dusty parking lot, and the exit off the paved roads, Tom peering at a passing lorry with interest.

"How are we going to get where we're going?" he asked, stretching again. Harry shrugged, watching the wings snap out lazily.

"Knight Bus, I suppose," he replied. "I can't exactly walk around Muggles wearing Roman armour."

Tom nodded, and snapped his wings down as he finished his stretch; a second later he landed by the roadside, hard, skidding backwards. Harry stared at him.

"Do that again," he cried.

"What, fall down?" Tom asked, struggling up.

"Flap your wings again!"

Tom, hesitantly, let his wings stretch, and stroked them through the air. He shot off the ground, laughing, and managed -- after a few jerky strokes -- to hover a little above Harry.

"Brilliant!" he shouted. "I love the Aboveway!"

He took off, twisting and turning through the air, while Harry watched in amazement. Finally, kicking up prodigious clouds of dust, he landed and stumbled into Harry, laughing.

"Hold still," he commanded, and Harry obeyed while the other boy ran his hands under his arms and around his chest.

"If you tell me to drop trou, I'm going to cold-cock you," Harry threatened. Tom grinned, and Harry felt a sensation of movement, of heaviness. They shot off the ground, Harry tensing, Tom glorying in the speed with which they climbed.

"Where are we going?" Harry demanded.

"St. Mungo's, of course!" Tom laughed. "Faster than trains or buses! What have you got in your pockets, bricks? We'll never get there in time to see your friend, if you don't stop struggling," he added.

"He's not my friend," Harry protested, falling limp.

"Whatever you say, Potter," Tom answered, and after a few minutes of experimentation, he settled into the long, steady glide of a cross-country flier, the wind chilly and brisk on his face.

***