Fading Star

A single star behind me

A red sky burns ahead

A lonely light below me

Awake among the dead.

--New Millennium, Dream Theater

Chapter 2: Breaking

"Disgraceful . . . utterly disgraceful . . ."

Sirius groaned as a haughty voice pierced its way through the endless darkness. His eyelids felt like lead and his whole body felt like it had just been in a head on collision with the Knight Bus.

"Never in all my years would I have expected a Black to faint."

Sirius sat up a little. Prying his eyes open, a silvery shape came into focus, standing out in the pitch black room. Flowing robes with intricate designs and a sword belt around his waist floated the ghost of an imposing looking man with long hair tied neatly back. "Oh bugger."

"Awake are you?" spat the ghost.

"Yeah," Sirius said, sitting up, rubbing his head. "My head hurts like--"

"Address me with some respect boy," huffed the ghost. "I am the founder of the line that bears your name. A proud and distinguished line at that, wizards that have risen up from the very dregs of society and . . ."

Sirius rolled his eyes. What the ghost said was true; he was the founder of the Black line. Sir Elrond of Blackstone, one of the very first wizards to attend Hogwarts, a renowned knight, and through one odd twist of fate after another became remarkably rich. And like most Blacks he bore the defining characteristics and the lack of personality, but was perfectly balanced. He had a chip on both shoulders.

". . . the very line that you have DISGRACED!"

Sirius jumped, sputtering furiously. "W-What?"

"You," Elrond growled, "passed out during your father's meeting. Balor Malfoy from another prominent family whose boy did not lose consciousness, was making some sort of grand announcement and right after he offers you a great opportunity you FAINT!"

Slowly the proceedings of the meeting came back to Sirius as he felt his breath coming in short gasps. Balor Malfoy's voice--sharp and demanding--was speaking of some great honor that he and his father were about to bestow on him and--he wrinkled his nose--Lucius. Then he said it. They wanted them (Sirius and Lucius) to become . . . Sirius gulped . . . Death Eaters.

Death Eaters. His servants. His followers. His spies. The allies of Lord Voldemort. The terrible fiend that most of the Wizarding world was trying to fight against. The despot who would kill mercilessly. The reason why the Ministry was constantly on its feet, trying to keep the Muggles from finding out about them as death tolls rose higher and higher with each passing week.

Then finally it dawned on Sirius, if Orion wanted him to become a--he shuddered--Death Eater then that meant that Orion was one too. So that's what all those meetings were about, he thought. And just as the meetings increased last year so had Death Eater activity in the surrounding villages, it all made sense now. All those mumblings about the Ministry and Minister Dimple, they weren't civilian concerns, they were Death Eater concerns.

"So, that's why he didn't get on my back to pay attention earlier," Sirius grumbled under his breath. "He figured the less I did the better, probably tried to force feed James Veritaserum to see if I told him anything."

The door creaked open. A sliver of flickering orange light spread across the floor, lengthening and widening as the door opened wider and a figure stepped in. Sirius did not have to raise his head to see who it was; one look at the heavy black boots and he knew. He watched the boots make their way across the room until the owner was standing directly over him.

The door closed on its own accord and the lock "clicked."

A single candle was placed on the nightstand giving the room an eerie orange glow, casting twisted shadows on the walls.

For the first time in a long time Sirius was scared. He'd say that his Gryffindor courage faltered for a moment there, but in truth he was petrified. If had been a long time since he had felt the back of his father's hand come down on him or his belt strike him sharply across the back.

"Sirius."

The sixteen year old raised his head slightly to show that he was listening as the hairs on the back of his neck bristled at the hard voice.

"Do you know what you've done?" asked Orion.

"He has!" cried Elrond. "Ungrateful little wretch, has the dignity of a flee-bitten--"

"Thank you Elrond, but with all due respect," interrupted Orion. "I will handle this."

Elrond nodded and disappeared through the ceiling.

Sirius sighed. At least he would only be belittled by one person, er . . . living person that is.

"Sirius," Orion called, getting his son's attention again. "I suppose the Elrond has informed you of what you did when Balor made our announcement, did he not?"

"He did sir."

"I feared that this would be disagreeable with you, but I would have never imagined that you would faint."

"I am sorry sir," Sirius said earnestly but his voice betrayed him, fear showing through. "I did not mean to bring shame to you and--"

"But you did," said Orion grimly. "I am afraid it caused me to make a decision that I am sure we will both agree, in time, was for the best."

Sirius did not move, his back stiffened, muscles tensed, his ears perked for his father's next words.

"I stood up for you, and gave Balor the answer on your behalf . . . I accepted his offer."

No! Sirius's mind screamed but not a word left his mouth. He raised his head to face his father, silently imploring him to reconsider. The candle light flickered off of Orion's sharp almost menacing features, his cold eyes and emotionless face. Sirius's heart plummeted.

"Father I . . .," he began.

"Not another word," snapped Orion. "You have shamed the family name enough for one night." He reached out awkwardly and squeezed Sirius's shoulder, "You will see in time that this was for the best." With that he picking up the candle and began to leave the room. The last thing Sirius heard him say was:

"Your breaking begins tomorrow at dawn."

2.

The sun's yellow rays slowly crested the mountains filtering down to the little village below. Bakers and store owners rose from their bed to begin work as the light worked its own way up to the mansion on top of the hill just a few miles out of town. Up the lawn it spread causing the morning dew to glisten like a thousand diamonds on the sea of green surrounding one small, human shaped island.

A particularly loud island at that, its snores could be heard from several miles away. It was also moving, or rather being kicked.

"Wake up you useless piece of shoe leather," snarled a harsh voice.

Sirius cracked an eye open. Standing directly over him was a burly man, perhaps in his early thirties with a thin black mustache and whose neck was a thick as Sirius's thigh.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Your worst nightmare," growled the man.

Sirius gave him a quizzical look.

The man was not amused. "Get up, we've been waiting for fifteen minutes and we will not wait a moment longer."

"Fine," Sirius grumbled sitting up. His clothes were soaked through, and the back of his shirt was covered in grass stains. "What am I doing outside anyway?"

"That's where the dogs belong," grunted the man.

Insulted, Sirius leapt to his feet. "Who are you calling a dog? Who are you anyway? I could have you thrown out! Hey! Come back here!" he shouted as the man started around toward the back of the house. Getting no response Sirius went after him still shouting. "Are you going to answer me?! Hello? Have you suddenly go deaf you overgrown son of a--" Sirius suddenly found himself dangling several feet in the air, face to face with the man.

"My name is," sneered the man through a row of yellow rotted teeth, "Ragnarok."

He let go of Sirius's collar and watched the boy fall to the ground in a crumpled heap. "Pathetic," he scoffed as Sirius got to his feet and continued on.

Feeling rather disgruntled Sirius followed him around to the back of the house where he received his second shock of the morning.

Dressed in designer sweatpants and t-shirt, blonde hair slicked back with so much gel that the sun glinted off it causing a glare and wearing his customary sneer was Lucius Malfoy.

"Please let this be a nightmare."

"If it was Black I'd already be awake," said Lucius.

"Awake are you?" said a cold voice.

"Good morning to you too Father," Sirius said sweetly.

"We are ready if you are Mr. Ragnarok," said Orion.

"I am."

"Follow me then," Orion said leading them across the yard.

"What is all this breaking business about anyway," Sirius hissed, walking alongside Lucius.

Lucius looked at him as if he had just asked who the Queen was.

"If you must know," Lucius said finally. "It is a training period that takes before we are presented to the Dark Lord."

"Then why is it called a breaking?"

"Have you ever seen a horse being broken?"

Sirius nodded.

"You're the horse and he's," Lucius jerked his head toward Ragnarok, "holding the bit."

Sirius jumped went he heard a grunt as Ragnarok pulled up a heavy iron door that was concealed within an overgrown clump of bushes. He led them down a long, narrow, spiraling flight of smooth stone steps. After what seemed like hours of walking the stopped in front of an oak door. The wood was warped with age and the heavy black padlock was covered in rust. Ragnarok took a large bronze key from an inside pocket of his cloak and shoved it in the lock, turning hard until it "clicked" open.

Ragnarok lit his wand before entering the dark, damp room. Sirius guessed that this was one of the dungeons. The smell of decaying flesh hung thick in the musty air. Thick layers dust that had accumulated over a century rose up in dense clouds around them as they walked across the cobblestone floor. There were little piles of molded hay bunched up in all four corners that Sirius had the sneaking suspicion had been used to sop up blood.

A bolt of amber light shot out of Ragnarok's wand, and circled around room igniting the stone torches that hung there. The fire crackled merrily, casting a warm glow around the room as. Sirius felt nauseous.

"Would you like to begin?" Orion asked, shifting from foot to foot.

"Yes," said Ragnarok shortly.

Orion stepped back into the shadows, giving Ragnarok the floor.

"Sit," he growled.

Both boys remained standing.

"Sit," repeated Ragnarok.

Once again the boys did not move.

"SIT!" the man thundered.

They fell to the floor, shocked.

Ragnarok laughed. His laugh was cold and sharp like the jeers of your fellows when you make a stupid comment or trip over your own feet. It lingered in Sirius's ears long after it was replaced by a scowl.

"Will," he said. "Is the single most dangerous thing in the world. Your will is what sets you apart from everyone else in the world. Your will is what you make your decisions with. When you agreed to join our ranks . . . that was the last soul decision you will ever make." He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "From now on your will is bullshit."

Sirius's head jerked up.

"You have no will. Your ability to make your own decisions is gone. From now on you follow orders." He looked at Sirius. "You will come when I call, and leave when I say. You will sit, stand, think and talk as I see fit. And if you defy me," he looked straight at Sirius, "I will break you."

3.

Sirius quickly learned that breaking was an altogether a nasty business. It involved getting up very early every morning, going down to the dungeon and being more or less taught how to follow directions.

"ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!" echoed off the walls as Sirius was flung through the air. He hit the floor with a "smack!" His skin seared like it was on fire as he was hauled to his feet.

"Look at me," hissed the Breaker in his ear.

He looked straight ahead.

"You will look at me you worthless son of a bitch."

Sirius's eyes never wavered from the ground. The floor was stained. Among the dirt, the sludge, the slime. Amongst all the grime he could make out dark crimson blood. His blood.

"LOOK AT ME!"

Pain shot through his head as was yanked up by his hair, being forced to look up at Ragnarok's twisted face and crazed eyes. "Let's get something straight here and now boy," he snarled, his rancid breath hitting Sirius in the face. "You are nothing. You are worth as much as a scrap of rusted sheet metal. You can do what ever you like when you're alone in your room with Mummy and Daddy a call a way, but in this place you obey me. I could snap your spine with my bare hands and it wouldn't faze me in the least." He looked into Sirius's eyes. What he found there was fear. Complete and total fear. His insides were positively giddy.

"You're just a little boy," he taunted. "A scared weak little boy. Never had to lift a finger in your life, right? Never were told you couldn't do something? You're nothing more than a spoiled snot-nosed wanker."

Without warning a fist shot through the air, landing solidly on Ragnarok's face, sending him stumbling backwards.

Sirius fell to the ground, his knuckles dyed red. He never saw Ragnarok clamber back to his feet, stunned. He never saw him draw his wand. He never saw him cast. He never even saw the spikes until it was too late.

Pain ripped through his hands, as he was held, suspended in mid-air, his hands forced out flat as the spikes tore them to shreds. Blood squirted through the air but not one scream, not one shout of pain left Sirius Black's lips as the spikes dug deeper and deeper into his hands.

4.

"Why must you be so defiant?"

Sirius raised his head slightly. Lucius and the "Breaker" had look since gone and he was busy tending to his wounds. The spikes had caused long jagged cuts and scratches across the palms and backs of both his hands. He had bandaged them sloppily, often burning himself with Sulfur's Skin Sealing Serum (The Healers' Choice! Clinically proven to mend any cut, scrap, or gash in a matter of minutes. A little goes a long way!).

"Sirius," Orion called to get his son's attention while observing a house-elf scrub the floor.

Sirius grunted in acknowledgement.

"Answer me then."

Sirius shook his head.

"You heard me Sirius and I am not going to repeat myself."

"You won't like the answer sir," Sirius replied.

Orion laughed coldly. "And why wouldn't I?" he pressed. "Am I not your father? Have I not sworn to always protect you? Do I not tolerate your like of Muggle contraptions?"

"Yes you do sir," his son admitted.

"Then why, may I ask, will I not like the answer to my completely valid question?"

Sirius's shoulders slumped in defeat, "Because I'm just like you."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Orion sounded slightly hurt. "Lucius at least pretends to be honored to be compared to his father. You, on the other hand, make no effort not to wrinkle your nose at the notion."

"Maybe it's because I never asked for this," Sirius said, wrapping his hand in another bandage.

"Hmm?" asked Orion, lifting his head a bit.

"I never asked to be a Death Eater."

"What do you mean?" There was genuine surprise in Orion's voice.

"You heard me. I never asked to be one of Them."

The older man whirled around, "Repeat that?"

"I never asked to be one of Them," Sirius said, phrasing every word clearly. "That was your decision Dad, not mine. I passed out, and you said yes because you knew I would never had. Probably thanked Merlin that I did. Knew I would have gone through the roof, right?"

"Now just listen here for one minute," Orion said, coming toward him.

"No," Sirius snapped. He had had it. "I've been good up until now. Always doing what you've wanted me to, but I've had enough. I can't see my friends, I can't go into town, and you won't even let me send Audra out unless you screen my letters. Why did you become one of Them anyway? Because it was honorable?"

Orion's eyes flashed dangerously as if daring Sirius to say another word.

Sirius took that dare. "Wasn't it Dad?"

Smack!

Sirius's upper body lurched forward as a sharp pain shot across the back of his head and down his neck. Out from under his shirt fell a thin silver chain with a seven-pointed star charm dangled from. He had worn both since birth, never leaving his neck for one moment. He watched as Orion crouched in front of him and grabbed the star.

"You see this?" he snarled, holding it out for Sirius to see.

Sirius made a small head motion in understanding.

"Do you know what this means?"

Sirius avoided his eyes.

"This is your birthright boy," Orion's voice came out in a wolfish snarl. "Without this you are nothing. You are not a Black. Not a wizard. Not a man."

The firelight glinted off the star.

"Without this you are something lower than a squib. Lower than a Trycannite. Lower than a Muggle street rat."

Orion gave the chain a little jerk. "Got it?"

Sirius nodded.

"Good," Orion let go roughly of the star, and straighten up. He strode toward the door leaving his son to nurse his wounds alone. "And Sirius," he added as an afterthought. "Mark my words, you will break soon or I will make you."

5.

The late afternoon sky was quickly turning from a bright blue to a splendid mixture of oranges and golds. Amongst the clouds flew a great gray owl. It circled Blackstone once before landing on a balcony outside Sirius Black's room.

Sirius at the moment was spread out on his stomach reading. His hands ached as he turned the pages. His whole body ached in fact. Damn Ragnarok.

He rubbed his head while he tried to concentrate on the small print as shouts from below echoed up. "They're at it again," he sighed to himself, turning a page.

An insistent tapping at his balcony door gave him cause to raise his pounding head. What he saw made him smiled. He swung his legs off the bed and hurried over to the doors, opening them.

"Hey Glenfeather," he said as the owl alighted on his arm and allowed itself to be brought inside the room. Sirius untied the letter from his leg and let the owl perch on Audra's cage. He broke the seal and took great comfort in seeing James's familiar, slightly illegible handwriting.

Dear Siriu--no I mean Padfoot--no wait Sirius--dear god who are you anyway?

I have one small, seemingly unimportant question to ask: WHERE ARE YOU?

It's been a month mate, and not even a casual note saying that you're shagging Bertha Jorkins because even though she's as dumb as dirt you find her strangely attractive. Or did you simply fall off the face of the earth? (And if you did you could have at least warned me, think of poor Glenfeather flying all around creation looking for you.)

Anyway assuming that you get this and all your fingers are still intact as to write a cheerful reply back, did you get your O. W. L. results yet? I just got mine yesterday, and apparently it was done alphabetically. Why is everything done alphabetical anyway? And it's only the stuff you "want" to see/know about. (Although during homework collection I don't envy you a bit, ha-ha. Just kidding.) I got thirteen by the way; not bad considering the full moon was the night before our Potions exam.

Have you seen the Prophet lately? It seems that ole Voldie's out and about, making his presence know again. Mum and Dad are really edgy. Mum especially, "Don't break curfew James!" in her prissy I'm-your-mother-and-you-better-listen-to-me voice. I don't exactly have anywhere to go. My broom bucked me yesterday because I haven't let it rest.

In short I'm going mad here! Rescue me whoever reads this! Send me a Dungbomb for Merlin's sake.

Sincerely Going Insane

James

(Who still isn't entirely sure who he's writing to)

A laugh escaped Sirius as he finished reading James's letter. "He is really going mad without me," he said to Glenfeather who was cleaning his feathers. Grabbing the nearest sheet of parchment from his pile of half finish summer essays that he was putting off until August, and a quill he scribbled back a reply that went something like this:

Dear Truly Incompetent Person Who Can Not Remember the Name of the Great Sirius Black,

You wish to know where I am, do you? Well oh, honored one I shall tell you. I'M BEING BORED OUT OF MY BLOODY MIND! Yes, quite like you I'm stuck at home being forced to do homework and other equally boring things. I can't even go out flying for fear I'll fly straight to your house. (Which I probably would. My Dad is starting to get onto me. Egad!) I swear sometimes I think our parents have late-night meetings about us. Needless to say mine are edgy too. They've been going at for a good two weeks now. Shouting at all hours of the night and the dodgy thing is my name comes up a lot. Wait! Before you jump to conclusions I haven't done anything to anger them this time. Every toilet seat is intact and Elrond hasn't been stuffed up any chimneys lately. I've been such a model son that I'm giving the supreme golden boy Clarence Shine a good run for his money. But knowing my family it could be anything, even my . . . hair.

As for the O. W. L.s I got about the same give one. Ha-ha! I finally beat you in something. Thank you Ancient Runes. Oh, don't scowl you'll kick my sorry arse in exams this year and I'll cut my hair if you don't get top N. E. W. T.s (Don't tell my Father that though, he'll bribe you NOT to study.)

I would send you a Dungbomb but unfortunately mine sort of flew . . . right out the window, across the yard and down the street to be exact. So in short, I'm also going out of my mind--or should I say into it, I've been out of it for age. Save me from terminal boredom whoever reads this! And send my Father a personality while you're at it.

Sincerely Going Sane,

The Powerful, the Pleasurable, the Indestructible Sirius

Sirius re-read his letter twice before calling for Glenfeather and tying it to the owl's leg. He watched as the owl soared out the window, wishing that he could do the same. But he knew it was impossible. One of the first things his father had done was to lock up his broom. And as for climbing down the balcony, he laughed at the idea. The Springboard Spell would shoot him straight back into his room the minute his foot touched the wall.

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT ORION!"

Sirius sighed. More muffled shouts echoed up through the floor. He wondered faintly if it was going to turn into an all out brawl this time 'round as he flopped ungracefully back onto his bed.

"HE WILL NOT BREAK!"

This made Sirius sit up straight. What the hell were they talking about? It was true that he had not yet broken to Ragnarok. Although last time he barely escaped with his arm still in its socket.

The shouts went down to pleas. From what Sirius going tell very tearfully pleas at that. Curious, he headed downstairs at a jog. As he neared where his parents' voice were coming from he stopped to listen.

"It's the only way Aurora," said Orion scornfully.

"But it's one of the Unforgivables," said Aurora. It sounded like she was crying. "For heaven's sakes he's your own son."

"He's someone to carry on the family line, nothing more nothing less."

"How can you . . ."

"I gave him a chance, he did not take it. He's left me no choice."

"Stop it!" sobbed Aurora. "I will not let you hurt my son."

"You didn't seem effected by the Cruciatus now were you? Still got the same old iron will you always had." Orion laughed coldly making a shiver ran down Sirius's spine. "Most people would consider you a bitch my dear."

Fury rushing through his veins like blood, Sirius launched himself at the door pounding against it with all his might. Break, he thought as his fists slammed against the heavy oak. The voice continued, the shouting didn't cease no matter how hard he pounded.

Crash!

His fist stopped as a terrified scream followed the crash.

"The boy left me no choice," his father said. His voice scornful and slurred as if he was drunk. Drunk on his own power that Sirius could feel radiating through the very walls. "And neither have you."

Sirius's ears strained to hear Orion's next words . . .

" . .. Kedavra."

The door blast open, flinging Sirius back against the wall as he was blinded by a bright green light.