Fading Star

Blame it on your karmic curse

Oh shame upon the universe

It knows its lines

It's well rehearsed

It sucked you in, it's dragged you down

To where there is no hallowed ground

Where holiness is never found

--Dream On, Depeche Mode

Chapter 3: The Devil's Bargain

Long fiery locks spread around her soft, pale face. Her pale pink lips upturned, slightly parted. Her sparkling blue eyes were closed, her expression peaceful giving the allusion that she was only asleep.

"Mum," Sirius whispered, his throat constricting painfully. He sat with his long legs awkwardly to the side of him. A dull ache was starting to rise in them from staying the position for nearly ten minutes. His mouth was dry. His sandpapery tongue ran across the roof of it producing a foul taste much like the one a person gets after seeing someone throw up. A pressure point was building in his head, throbbing. The backs of his eyes burned.

He blinked.

Out of the very corner of his eye a small diamond-shaped tear rolled down his cheek followed by another and another.

His mind was a whirl with dozens of thoughts and accusations. Pain, anger, betrayal, revenge all screamed to be heard in a crazed orchestra that was quickly building to a crescendo inside his head until . . .

A crystal droplet hit the floor.

And another.

And another.

He watched as the salty water ran down into the cracks between the floorboards. Lost forever within the minute crevice . . . never again to see the light of day.

Sirius Black's fearless teenage façade began to crumble.

A silent river flowed from his eyes as he sat there. Unmoving. It was almost as if someone had wiped the life from him too.

Sirius was never completely sure how long he sat there. Long enough for him to lose the feeling in his legs though. He was startled from his stupor by a harsh voice.

"Why do you cry?" Orion asked. It was a simple question, but Sirius could not find the words to answer it. He could only stare blankly at his father, or who had once been his father. The man who stood before him now was but a mere shadow of the man he once knew when he was younger and was still "Daddy's little boy". When he, Sirius, could do no wrong. But now Sirius could hardly believe that this man's blood ran through his veins.

"You haven't answered me," Orion stated.

Sirius looked away.

"Emotions," chuckled his father. "Horrid little things aren't they? The human race would be better off without them in my opinion. But than again we'd be helpless dolts without them. Love most of all." He moved closer to Sirius. "Love along with will those are two things that should have only been granted to a fair few. Love is for vagrants and will is for the powerful.

"But anger on the other hand. Ah, anger is perhaps the best of the lot. Anger, unlike the rest, can be used for a purpose."

Sirius dared a glance up at Orion. He caught his eye for the briefest of seconds.

"Our powers," Orion continued, "are affected greatly by emotions. Especially high energy ones like anger."

A growl rose in Sirius's throat as he watched his father approach. He also felt a strange sort of warmth surge through him like when he used his wand again after summer holidays but this kind was hotter, stronger.

"Right now, you are giving off a very strong bit of power, Sirius. It can be felt throughout the room. If I chose to snuff the candles right now, you would glow." A thin smile crossed Orion's face. "And if you were to harness that power, transferring it through your wand you could probably kill me."

"Sounds good to me," hissed Sirius venomously.

"Tut, tut, tut," Orion chided, his eyes glittering maliciously, "you are forgetting one vital factor."

"And what is that?"

"Your power, raw and uncontrolled as it is, could wash over mine, setting off alarm after alarm. And," Orion leaned forward and pinched Sirius's cheek, "you wouldn't want to be blamed for the killing of your own mother, would you?"

Sirius laughed coldly, rubbing his cheek.

"Nice try, but all they would have to do is check your wand and . . ." Sirius trailed off abruptly.

Orion had straightened up and was twirling a wand between his long thin fingers. A dark wand when his own was made of a much lighter wood. Sirius watched it spin in Orion's nimble fingers when something caught his eye, a little speck of gold paint on the tip.

"Sirius, be careful, there's paint down there."
"Sure . . . whoa! Whoa!"

The can sailed through the air, flipping when it reached its highest arc. Gold paint splattering the walls.

"I do not want to know how this happened," she said, jabbing the wall with the tip of her wand.

Sirius blinked, the memory was banished, overshadowed by realization. Orion hadn't used his wand . . . he had used her own wand against her.

"So you had it all figured out, didn't you?"

Orion smirked.

"You were always a bright boy," he chuckled. "But your mother was a liability. Quite a large one. You sadly inherited her will, but now you see where being willful gets you."

"You broke her! And now you say it's . . ."

"I never broke her."

Sirius stood up slowly, his knees quaking.

"What do you mean?"

"Her will is what destroyed her. You think I did, but I never intended for her to have any part in my dealings but she was curious. Too curious for her own good. My Master decreed that I bring her to one of our meetings so he could break her personally. Her screams were few but her injuries were many."

A lump rose in Sirius's throat.

"She lived for you," Orion said thoughtfully. "She'd still be living if it was not for you."

"You killed her!"

"She died because she would not allow you being hurt," bellowed Orion.

He grabbed Sirius's shirt.

"I would have never cast if she had only given in. If she wasn't so pigheaded. If she didn't love you so much."

He released his son.

"Now who is to blame for her death? Me? Or was it the one who was the cause of it? You."

Sirius closed his eyes.

Orion was right. If it weren't for him, his mother would still be alive. It was all his fault. If only he had broken sooner. If only his will hadn't been so strong.

"You can avenge her you know," Orion said softly. "Make sure she did not die in vein."

Silence.

Orion sighed. "All right then," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "The Ministry is sending over several hit wizards. They'll be here in an hour. I'm going to change."

"Orion . . ."

The elder man doubled back. "What did you say, Sirius?"

A million potential responses flooded Sirius's head, but only four words left his mouth.

"What must I do?"

2.

"You will work."

And work he did. Every day he sweated in the smoldering dungeon. He lifted weights, lugged boxes and furniture. He slaved in the kitchens, making fires, cleaning pots. He plowed fields and tended the grounds. He worked until he thought his back would snap like the twigs he was chopping for firewood while They looked on. Laughing their scornful laughs.

"You will sweat."

The salty water poured down his face, slipping into his cuts and eyes. Making them burn and sting until tears flowed down his face and the world turned black.

"You will bleed."

Like a long black snake before its charmer, the whip uncoiled itself, and was swung through the air. Twisting, snapping, teeth barred poised to strike. With a poisonous hiss, it sank its venomous fangs deep into his tender flesh.

Again.

And again.

And again! It bit. Sinking its horrid teeth in deeper each time, slicing his back to ribbons.

On the floor ran a river of red. It faded to a murky brown as with each passing day the blood of an innocent was poisoned by a seed of evil.

"And you will break."

Again, and again the whip struck him, cutting deeper and deeper into his skin with each failure. Ragnarok's words echoed in his mind. Every insult, every curse, every slap flashed through his mind as he dueled. He ducked. He dived. He rolled. He cast. He laughed as Lucius's pale form twisted in pain while their fathers stood on and watched. He cackled as Lucius took his beating for the loss. He laughed for all the remarks the Malfoys made about him. He was no longer a skinny, weak little boy. He was now a muscle-bound killing machine.

The afternoon sun's rays filtered through the high stained-glass windows that lined either side of the dining hall. Casting huge planes of rainbow colored light down on the long table. At the far end where the light seemed only to provide an annoying glare, sat the room's only occupant, groaning.

Surrounded by books, long rolls of parchment, countless bottles of ink, several good quill, and loads of Eradicator, Sirius Black bit his lip as he put the finishing touches on his Runes translation. One of his summer assignments that was put off until the days of August. He hadn't left it to last because it was his worst subject, but rather his best. The work took a good bit of concentration and a nit-picking tendency, usually for small things. He even topped Lily Evans in it.

He sighed again, stretching his aching fingers as his face was reflected in the glass doors. He was still lean, but his well developed muscles showed through even the baggiest shirt. He hated them. He hated the reason why he had them. They were what he had to show for being broken.

He reached over, picked up his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and took a bite. Next to his plate was another sympathy card. They keep arriving in droves ever since the funeral. This one had a vase of lilies that was knocked over on it. The flowers spilled out on the purple cloth with fancy gold letters under them, spelling out Sympathy. Inside was some clever saying that was supposed to encourage hope. That was a laugh.

Needless to say, Orion's plan for arranging his mother's death as a suicide went on without a hitch. The bumbling fools that called themselves hit wizards were keener on inspecting the house than Aurora's body. They had of course known of the Black fortune, and hoped to make off with some of it. Too bad a house elf had stumbled on them and screamed so loud that one of them wet himself.

The funeral, on the other hand, was perhaps the most depressing thing Sirius had ever been to. Everyone would surround him like a pack of hungry wolves. He had never heard so many fake sympathetic comments in his life. Old ladies fussed over him, and men kept telling him to "Buck up."

James was there, of course. He was the only person who offered the least bit of real comfort especially when they overheard one large booming lady claim that Aurora was always off her rocker and she saw it coming. (She also had some choice things to say about Sirius, but James dragged him away in time.)

The only thing he could really remember of the day was when James and him went walking around the grounds just talking about whatever subject came to mind. Girls, Quidditch, Severus Snape's underwear. Whatever. It was the most fun he had had all summer.

Ironic, he thought as his eyes wandered back over to the card. Hope had been driven out of him a long time ago.

His head shot up the second the doors opened with a slight creak. He lowered it again. He knew who it was long before the person even reached the doors. The clunking of heavy boots was a dead give away to his sensitive ears. (A trait that had intensified throughout his Animagi transformations and Breaking.)

"Sirius," his father said cheerfully. Sirius looked up at him long enough to assess that he was wearing black summer robes, and was sporting a less than dark demeanor.

Uninterested, Sirius went back to work, the steady scratching of his quill blocking out a good portion of Orion's one-sided conversation.

"I visited the Potters today."

The quill stopped.

"Jack seemed agitated, as did Sarah. I suppose they've realized that their meddling has not gone unnoticed."

He had his son's attention now.

"Meddling?"

"Yes," affirmed Orion. "They've been smuggling valuable information from some undercover spies at the Ministry. This has put several of his followers in great jeopardy."

Every muscle in Sirius Black's body tensed.

"The head of their Alliance has suggested some protection spells."

Sirius knew about protection spells. Rather he knew their effects. People disappeared. Pure and simple. Only a selected few knew of their whereabouts and wouldn't reveal them, even on penalty of death. Not always but usually, and it was a well known fact that when a family went under a protection charm they vanished from the face of the earth, forever.

"He put special emphasis on something called a Fidelius Charm," Orion continued, noticing the bemused look on his son's face. "It is amazingly complex. It consists of instilling one's whereabouts in a single individual. Only they and anyone they care to inform can see the family. You couldn't see them ever if you had your nose pressed up against their sitting room window."

"They've settled on that one then," Sirius assumed.

Orion nodded. "They are casting the day after James returns to Hogwarts. They say he has not participated in their dealings and should not be punished, for this, my son, truly is a punishment."

Sirius's face remained emotionless.

"To separate one's self from all of humanity, from their child, their friends, their very lives is perhaps, the worst punish of all. But," he paused, "there is still a greater punishment."

"And what is that?"

"To be the one responsible for their lives."

"What do you mean?" Sirius snapped.

"Well," Orion said, leaning against the table. "Imagine how it must feel for that person? Holding the life of a living, breathing person in their hands, and with one small slip of the tongue and . . . poof. Gone forever. Never to return again. My, all that pressure, a weak person may not be able to hand the . . . responsibility that such a task enthralls."

Sirius leapt to his feet, sending the huge wooden chair to the floor with a deafening crash. "Are you saying what I think you are?" he growled. "Are you saying what the bloody hell I think you are?!"

Orion smiled coyly.

"You are a smart boy, Sirius. Not just book learning, oh no. You have street smarts, don't you, boy?"

"Tell me what you mean," snarled Sirius, his body trembling with a mix of fear and fury.

"You mean have the Potters' . . ." Orion let the sentence hang. He watched Sirius's face pale, skin become ashen. "You couldn't imagine the look on Jack's face when I went to meet him about it. He didn't even look that worried when he was staring down Balor's wand. Little arsehole got away though. The Calvary wasn't late enough that time, but he gave him a good scare. Sarah was of course anxious as well. So scared that she might lose both of her boys, or worse."

"You bast--"

"Tut, tut, tut," Orion said, wagging a finger in front of Sirius's face like he was a naughty child. "You're forgetting one, small thing, Sirius."

"Which is?"

"I first have to have the charm placed on me, and then I have to make sure my tongue doesn't, shall we say, slip?"

"You're going to give them away the minute Voldemort asks you," Sirius snapped.

His father sighed heavily.

"You think you have me all figured out, don't you, Sirius?

"Yeah, well you know what they say about snakes and their scales . . ."

"But snakes do shed their skins."

"But in time the new one is shed as well," Sirius countered.

Another smiled crossed Orion's face.

"You see Sirius," he said softly, "you are looking at things in only black and white. Odd for one who has walked the gray line many a time . . ."

"What do you mean?" asked the teenager.

Orion's smile broadened a little.

"Life is a two-way street, boy; you scratch my back, and I will scratch yours. That's how it goes these days."

"You mean you want to strike a deal," Sirius hissed.

"Not a deal, more of a bargain."

"There is no difference."

"I am afraid there is. A rather large for, you see, Sirius, in a deal people go their own ways to achieve their ends. But in a bargain, I will keep mine for as long as you keep yours."

Sirius brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He read his father's coal-black eyes, all the cunning of a Slytherin.

"And what would be my end of the bargain?" he asked, voice steady.

"Yours will be a mere trifle compared to mine," Orion chuckled. "A token even when you consider the great personal risk I am putting myself into."

"Somehow I doubt that," Sirius grunted.

"You will not be crossing the Dark Lord, my boy. I will. I will be staring my own destruction in the face in order to protect the precious Potters. But one slip of the tongue, Sirius, and ..." He drew a finger swiftly across his neck.

Sirius's face darkened.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Collect information."

Sirius blinked. "What kind of information?"

"The useful sort," Orion ticked the options off on his fingers. "Ministry raids, over cover resistances, talk of preparing traps for our kind; you know how fickle teenagers can be. Always snooping around corners, being where they are not wanted, picking up bits and bobs of valuable information."

"You mean spy," said Sirius, his hands gripping the edge of the table.

"Why must you always put such a negative spin on things? Just like your dear Mother, the glass is always half empty."

"Don't talk about Mum, you have no right," Sirius sneered. "You never loved her. She was only a trophy wife. You're not a Black."

"I'm more of a Black than you'll ever be, boy," growled Orion, grabbing Sirius's wrist, twisting it. "Caring for your little friends is a sure way to get yourself killed. They would never do the same for you, no matter what they say. Your naïveté will only get you one thing, a six foot deep plot in the Hogsmeade cemetery. Now you listen to me. I'm putting my neck on the line for your little friends, and you should be thankful." Their faces were so close by now that they could feel each other's breath. "All I'm asking is for you to send me a nice little packet once a month until the time when you are presented to the Dark Lord, and I will keep Jack and Sarah's precious secret. Understood?"

Sirius nodded.

"But what about after I am presented to Voldemort?"

Orion chuckled.

"By then Jack and Sarah will be as safe and as content as you or I could ever wish them to be."

Orion extended a hand to his son.

"So do we have a bargain?"