Fidelius Week

Fidelius Week

Part Six

by Weaver

Starring Fighting!James, Triumphant!Voldemort, Desperate!Sirius, and Snapped!Peter

In which there is a confession, a conviction, much general unhappiness and much death. Sirius is angst-ridden and angry. Peter finally gets a reprieve ... of sorts. James and Lily fight, fail and fall; Remus makes a long-awaited appearance; and Fin gets upset.

"Close every door to me

Hide all the world from me

Bar all the windows

And shut out the light...

If my life were important I

Would ask, will I live or die,

But I know the answers lie

Far from this world..."

MONDAY: BREAKING POINT

The smell of rotting fruit was heavy in the air. The orchids, that had belonged to James' family so long ago, now dropped their fruits at random and went unplucked by anyone. The grounds were thick with dead and dying shoots, and at this time of year they smelt like a graveyard of unburied corpses. Most people walking through the yard would have found it oppressive and intimidating, a fitting atmosphere for the Dark Lord's headquarters.

Peter no longer thought of it so. It was routine, to him, to pick his way unhappily among the prolific trees and into the decrepit cellars of the manor to report his latest spyings, and to bemoan his fate there. He knew the place now better than he ever had at school. The memories of playing Quidditch among the freshly pruned trees had faded as the years passed; now he barely remembered the happy summers he had spent here when James' family were alive. Now, his thoughts on walking through the dead grounds were all of Anne.

Of Anne, who lay in his arms at last - but she was not the warm, firm being he remembered. Her limbs were withered, shrunk and broken, her face drawn and cold, her eyes rolled back in her head... and the fluttering, life-sweet heartbeat was gone.

"You have done well, little Wormtail," the Dark Lord had told him. "You have earned, at last, the reward you deserve." And Peter had looked up from the ground, aching from the aftermath of Revealing the Secret to an enemy, and Voldemort had allowed him to hope for cruel, cruel minutes. Bruised and broken, Anne had been carried gently out and placed in his arms. For an endless second, the haze had cleared, and she had smiled at him - the lovely, womanly smile he remembered so well.

"Oh, one more thing,", Voldemort had gloatingly told him. "Avada Kevadra!"

Moaning, crying, Peter bent over the body in his arms again. He had hoped, for just a second, that it was he who would die - a painless end to his life. He should have known better... it was all his fault.

That statement reverberated around inside his aching head, blocking his other thoughts, clogging up the pathways of his mind till all he could see was Anne's dead eyes, staring at nothing, staring at a sky beyond his comprehension, staring into death.

It was all his fault.

The darkness in his mind split and multiplied, the clouds growing behind his eyes, threatening a storm. Gently, he laid Anne on the ground. She stared through him, heartbreakingly beautiful, heartfreezingly cold, and he turned away to avoid the sight.

I have caused this. I have caused this by being too weak. She is dead, and it is my fault.

A pit yawned before him, smooth and soft and comfortable, promising rest, promising hope, promising salvation. He could see how easy it would be simply to slip into that welcoming warmth and never to wake again - never to face the ashes of his world again... it was tempting.

No! I am too weak. Sirius wouldn't do that. James wouldn't do that. I will not give up. It isn't right. I need to be stronger. Stronger.

Rest. Hope. Forgiveness. Sleep, beckoned his weary mind. Always. You need this, Peter, it's your only hope.

My only hope. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope. He giggled to himself at the resonance. See, that Princess didn't give up either. She killed the bad guys. I need to kill the bad guys, then I can live happily ever after.

Dimly, he straightened up, and staggered towards the far edge of the orchard. I have to sort this out. Sirius wouldn't lie down and die. Sirius will be blamed for this!

The thought stopped him dead. He slumped against the nearest tree, still unsteady on his feet. Shit. Sirius will be the bad guy! Sirius the bad guy... heh...

Blackness threatened to close him in, and with an effort he pushed himself off the tree and stumbled onwards, hands blindly reaching out in the dark. Sirius wouldn't lay down and die. I have to be strong. Strong like Sirius is, or I'll lose everything I have left, I'll die. I can't give up.

Sirius doesn't give up ever. Sirius the bad guy, wouldn't give up. Doesn't give up.

Sirius is going to think I'm the bad guy. Just like they all do. But I'm not the bad guy, I couldn't help it. He's the bad guy and he'll try to kill me. I can't let him do that. Can't let the bad guy win. Even if he's Sirius and he never gives up. Can't let Sirius win.

Have to kill the bad guy or he'll never give up, he'll destroy everything, everything. I'll get rid of the bad guy, then everything will be all right again and I'll have Anne back and it will all be okay...

Sirius is the bad guy, so it's all Sirius's fault.

Have to get rid of Sirius.

*

The sun rose over the twisted lane that was Diagon Alley, stretching long rays out through all the east-facing windows of the Ministry's main building. The holding-room that Fin was seated in had all the warmth of a dungeon, so the gold light was more than welcome. She put out a thin hand towards the golden glow.

A rapping on the door made her jump, and hug her thick cloak more closely around her. The guard who entered was bulky and pug-faced, and the scowl he wore boded no good for her.

"Danaan?" he barked, staring at her, obviously wondering how someone so fragile could be so dangerous. When she nodded and rose to her feet, he ordered "In front of me. Two doors down. Behave."

She walked obediently down the hall, feeling the prodding of his wand in between her shoulderblades. The door was thick oak, intricately carved with patterns of vines and grapes. The room she found herself in on the other side lacked any kind of ornamentation: it was no more than a square room with a single table. On the table was what appeared to be a conch shell, and behind it was a man she knew only by reputation: Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
The Dark Lord's voice flashed into her mind. The time is not yet right to kill Crouch. He will die in pain and in misery, at the hands of his own son, as soon as that son is ready for the task. Not until after we triumph, whatever happens. Hear me and obey!

Fin slammed up mental barriers against the pervading voice, not knowing whether it was her own memory or Voldemort's current presence, and almost beyond caring. The strains of the past few days were beginning to tell on her. It took a lot to resist Voldemort. He was persuasive, enticing, and strong, and although Fin could match wills with the best of them, Voldemort was different. She no longer wondered what had happened to the others who had expressed discomfort with the organisation; she knew. If she let herself rest now, she would be wholly consumed, a mindless prisoner in her own body. If she didn't rest, she'd collapse, and then he'd take her. Testing the strength of her barriers, she decided she had maybe five minutes.

Crouch was speaking. "...a Death Eater, Findabhair?"

"Yes, I am."
"Are you aware of what you're confessing to?" Crouch hissed, his small eyes sparking. "I want to make absolutely sure of this, Findabhair of the Tuatha de Danaan. You knowingly and willingly consented to become part of the most evil, demonic, murderous band on this earth. You tortured and murdered people without fear or regret or conscience. You used Unforgivable Curses on good men and women, and most probably children as well. And you're now throwing yourselves on our mercy?"

Fin winced away from the tiny drops of spittle flying from Crouch's mouth. "I'm not throwing myself on your mercy. I just want to do something to make up for what I've done."

Crouch, who was standing now, planted both fists on the desk in front of him. "Do you honestly think anything can possibly make up for what you've done, you subhuman nothing?" he demanded, breathing hard. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just get an Auror in here to kill you now!"

Voldemort's presence pulsed against Fin's mental barriers, and she staggered. The burly guard seized her arm and pushed his wand further into the small of her back. "Answer the question!" Crouch screeched.

"I know what he has planned!" Fin said hurriedly, forcing her mind blank against Voldemort.

With a satisfied "Hah," Crouch sat slowly down again, the redness of his face lessening. "Then you can tell me all about it, and maybe I won't have you fed to a Quintaped."

Murderer! Fin's inner voice shrieked at her again. You killed David Wilkes! You murdered Anya Goldberg! I'll tell you nothing!

Crouch raised a single perfectly groomed eyebrow. "I'm waiting, you thing. I hope it's worth something."

Her breath came heavily. Her posture was forced unnaturally straight by the twin pressures on her arm and in her back. And inside her head, the warring voices raged on.

Tell him! Tell him, and then you have a chance at reaching Sirius in time! You can even save him!

But what about Danielle? If you speak, she's going to die. She, and Elaine, and Severus, and all those you've shared your life with these last two years. Can you really face that, just for a chance at seeing Sirius?

Yes! If you have to, you can do it. They took just as much pleasure in murdering Anne, and Manora, and William, and endless numbers of Aurors and ordinary Good people. Crouch is a murderer, but so are your friends. So are you, for that matter.

Yes, and even more so if you give in and tell them.

That's not true. Think how many innocent lives you'll save.

There is no such thing as innocent lives. Who do you value more, some unborn child, or your closest friends?

Your closest friend is SIRIUS!

It's been two years. How can you be sure he still cares about you? How can you be sure he still loves you? What if he's over you - what if he's shacked up with some other woman?

He hasn't! When you saw him - he loves you! And you love him, don't you?

Or do you? Are you kidding yourself?

You're not.

What if?

"Findabhair! Answer me!"

Fin swayed on her feet, realising her eyes had rolled back in her head, and her mental barriers were weakening. She could feel Voldemort battering at her; the scar in her arm burned fiercely, and there were flecks of light at the corner of her vision. "Potters," she forced out, weakly.

Crouch leaned forward. "What about the Potters?"

"Tonight - attack - Harry, James," Fin moaned, swaying. "Pettigrew in danger - stop them getting him... stop him telling..."

"Speak up!"

"Final triumph - it's his Plan - he wants them all dead... Peter Pettigrew, listen..." The world was blacking out, a patch at a time. Blearily, Fin could tell she didn't have much time left as master of her own mind. "I - guilty - please?" she asked, desperately.

"Don't think you're getting a trial, if that's what you're after. You're condemned by your own words. You'll be in Azkaban by nightfall."

"Sirius?" whispered Fin, desperately, quietly. "Can I see Sirius?"

"Black? Nobody knows where he is." Crouch's words fell with the finality of a door slamming shut on a prison cell. And the last of Fin's mental defences collapsed, and Voldemort roared in on a black river of darkness, rapidly eroding all thought.

*

"Oh, who's a little lunatic, then? Who's just like his daddy, hair and all?"

Harry giggled and batted at Lily's hands, his chubby fingers tangling in the hair that hung over his face. Lily swiped it out of his reach. "Oh no, you don't, dear heart," she said sternly. "Mine."

The room was in disarray; boxes of furniture and goods were stacked head-high around the walls, and dust motes floated cheerfully in the rays of bright morning sunlight that flowed through the wide-open windows. A stray fallen leaf drifted slowly to the ground, and Harry struggled to his feet and toddled around after it.
Lily joined James on the couch, collapsing theatrically across his lap. "Your son, Mr Potter, is insane." She laughed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and rubbed her nose in the hollow of his throat. "Just like his father."

"It's the hair that I worry about," said James, solemnly. "It's a terrible curse, to be born with the Potter hair. He may never recover from the trauma."

"I like your hair," Lily protested. "It's lovely and easy to pull." She suited action to words; James tickled her; she retaliated; the end result was a furious tickling match which Harry watched with wide-open eyes and a toothy smile. Eventually, the combatants separated, and Lily flopped down exhaustedly on the floor.

"I'm going to miss this place," she said, eventually. "It'll be nice to live in the country, of course, and it'd be great for you to be back where you grew up, but ..." She sighed. "This place, you know, we bought it with our own money and our own hard work. I'll miss it."

"Yeah... Yeah, I know what you mean."

The sombre mood was lightened when Harry clambered unsteadily onto James's lap and began pulling at his hair. "Paff? Paffoo?"

"Paffoo gone, Littlest One," said James, disentangling himself. "How about we see Mouse instead?"

"Mow?" Harry looked around hopefully. "Mows?"

"Yeah, he'll turn up. We're waiting for one last visit from him before we go. How about that, then? You can see Mow and then go to a brand new home!"

Harry's wide green eyes filled with unhappy tears, but none spilled. "No!" he said, his lower lip trembling in what Lily thought was a most adorable manner. "No go!"

"Reckon we could just leave him here?" asked James, hopefully. Lily smacked him.

"Where Harry goes, I go," she said sternly.

*

Danielle stared into the depths of the Showstone, watching Fin. The faerie girl lay in a crumpled heap in one of the Ministry´s holding cells, motionless, face-down on the grey stone. Despite Danielle´s vows to the Dark Lord and to the Dark Side in general, it still hurt somewhere inside her to see a childhood friend reduced to such a state.

Findabhair had revealed nothing of the Plan, of course. Elaine and Lucius had been onto her the minute she revealed herself to those damn Aurors last night, and those two made the deadliest team in Britain. Danielle would not have wanted to be in Findabhair´s place for the world.

Sighing heavily, she discarded Fin´s image from the Stone, and sent the viewpoint skittering along the planes of the world, until the grey expanse of the Showstone was filled with sandstone cliffs and sharp sprays of salt water. Home. And she was going there, tonight. She fought the urge to wriggle.

"Yes, it will be good, won´t it?" a husky voice asked from behind her, and it took every bit of Danielle´s self-control not to jump. Instead, she turned slowly and nodded politely to Elaine.
"So many pothibilities," she said, gesturing at the jagged cliffs and the windy, desolate dunes that lay behind them. "It vill be wonderful to be there again."
"Yes," said Elaine, thoughtfully. "Yes, so many possibilities..." She tapped her wand against her thigh slowly. "But I think it is time for you to be on your way already, Danielle Wilgarr. We have things to do, in the sunlight."
Danielle knew a dismissal when she heard one, although she was tempted to ask just what they planned to do with the few hours of sunlight remaining. Surely, they didn´t have anything left to organise? Not with the Plan coming off tonight?
Oh well; it would be Elaine´s neck on the line, not hers.

She had forgotten about Findabhair entirely by the time she reached her quarters.

*

Peter had fallen into a heavy doze and was dreaming. He was in a forest, running endlessly, chasing something white that flickered just barely ahead of him. He caught it and it was James, but a pale ghost of the James he knew - a wispy, smoky being who stared at him with soulful brown eyes, saying You can still put this right.

"No, no, no!" Peter choked. "Sirius is the bad guy! Sirius has to die!" The words were on the tip of his tongue. He had a vague feeling he´d been saying them for hours, so easily did they roll off his lips.

Peter,said the James-thing, and then morphed into Anne. Peter, she said, desperate and pale and scared, listen to me. I love you.

"Dead," Peter mumbled, miserably. His teeth felt thick with mould.
You are innocent, said one of the voices in his head. It isn´t your fault. You did what you had to do.

Me,said Anne. You did it to save me. How can that be bad?

"S´not," said Peter. "S´good."
Sirius isn´t good, said another voice, this one sounding suspiciously like Severus Snape. He tried to kill ... he´s a murderer, Professor! You can´t trust him...
"Yeah..."
Peter, I love you, said Anne.
Kill the bad guys, that´s how all the stories end, something in the back of his mind insisted. And with that, he woke up, and the noontime sun was burning the skin of his arms through the tears in his shirt.

*

"Peter was supposed to check on us today, wasn´t he? Did he say if he was coming today?" Having put Harry to sleep, James was anxiously pacing the kitchen. "I don´t like being around here... I feel useless. We´re finished packing, aren´t we?"
Lily glanced up at him, and surreptitiously added another pinch of calming herbs to the tea she was brewing. "Dear heart, have you ever known Peter let us down before? He´ll come, and if he doesn´t he´ll have a good reason, you know that."
"I know. I just ... don´t like sitting around doing nothing any longer than we have to. I want to get back into it. You know how tight it is, Lil - they need me." A scowl creased his brow. "I just can´t relax here."
"There´s nothing we can do, though." She handed him a mug of hot tea. "Not till Mouse comes and we can go."
He sighed heavily, and folded his lanky figure into a chair; a wry grin didn´t completely remove his scowl, but it came close. "I suppose I´m just spoiling for a fight."

*

Slowly, the sun slid down the sky, and the afternoon passed away. Cold stars appeared one by one over Godric´s Hollow and over Birmingham, where Sirius lay sedated in St Mungo´s. It was past eleven o´clock when he snapped out of unhappy dreams and into full wakefulness, as suddenly as if he´d been doused in cold water. It took him seconds only to realize where he was; he flung himself out of the soft bed and out of the window in rapid succession, leaving alarm bells ringing behind him as he scrambled over the fences and ran with long strides across the lawns to the road. Once outside the warding spells, he knew exactly where he was: barely two miles from Peter´s house. Peter´s house, where Peter was sleeping peacefully! I have to warn him, I have to get there now!

Remnants of the sedation spells clung to his mind, leaving his thoughts fogged and difficult to handle, but one thing was crystal clear - his friends were in danger, and only he knew it. Two days of magic sleep had rested his body, if not his mind, and the silent streets flew past his pounding feet.

But when he arrived at Peter´s, Peter wasn´t there. His door, which looked as though it had been recently replaced, creaked in protest when Sirius slammed it open, but there was no other noise in the house. Peter´s distinctive snores were absent, and a sudden fear chilled Sirius. Slowly, dreading what he might see, he moved on down the hall. No alarms shrilled in his ears, nor had any gone off recently - no traces of broken magics hovered in the air. But Peter wasn´t there. No broken furniture, no damaged spell-wards - but the hands on the Auror-spelled clock were spinning aimlessly in circles.
He´s gone into hiding, Sirius´s heart cried. He´s gone somewhere safe. He already knows they´re after him, and he´s gone into hiding.

But he couldn´t believe that for long, and when the truth finally hit him, he stood stunned and weak for several seconds. He´s betrayed them - he was the spy all along! Memories of Peter avoiding company, making excuses from parties, spending most of his time supposedly alone flickered through Sirius´s head. We thought he was grieving for Anne - but he was supporting Voldemort! He´s betrayed them!

And then the next thought hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. No, I betrayed them.
No! There´s still time! He was halfway through the Disapparation spell when he realised he didn´t have the control to handle it; but Peter´s Floo Powder was in the usual tin beside the mantelpiece. James and Lily were disconnected from the network - but his own home wasn´t, he could get there, and then - and then what? How could he get to Godric´s Hollow?
He landed heavily, face-first, in the dusty floor of his own kitchen, and felt his hip slamming painfully into something thick and metallic lying there - a spanner. He scrambled to his feet. The Bike! He hadn´t touched her since Fin had died, but surely she would understand?
Some fuzzy thought about Fin entered his mind, but he brushed it away impatiently. It could wait. This couldn´t.
The door to the garage was closed and locked, but his spare wand hung in its holster beside it; the door dropped into ashes with a shrieked spell, and the Bike was waiting for him, gleaming under the dust and cobwebs still. He kicked it into life, blasted the garage doors apart and took off into the sky.

It was a quarter to twelve.

*

Danielle watched the Dark Lord emerge from the shadows at the far end of the hall. Elaine and Lucius strode beside him, one at each elbow, both dressed immaculately in midnight-blue Auror´s robes. The length of the hall, Death Eaters stopped and bowed to him, Danielle included.
He acknowledged their bows with a brief glance, and then turned his snakelike face to Lucius and murmured something in his ear. Lucius, with a sketched half-bow and a flicker of ash-blonde hair, vanished into the shadows again; the Dark Lord strode to the centre of the hall and raised his hands.
"Tonight," he announced, a note of triumph in that inhuman voice, "we conquer. You all know your places. Tonight, we drive out the last pathetic remnants of their Ministry, we defeat for all time the last resistance groups, and," he paused briefly, savouring this triumph above the others, "and I finally have Potter and his family in my hands. Tonight, Death Eaters, we begin our rule!"

Death Eaters did not cheer. A rustle of excited movement swept through them, a scattering of nods, and then, one by one, they Disapparated, leaving Danielle and her team alone in the hall, preparing for their own mission twenty-four hours hence.

*

In Godric´s Hollow, Harry woke up and began to cry. It was eight minutes to twelve when a sleepy Lily padded down the corridor in her nightshirt and scooped him up, her wand still in its holster beside her bed. James rolled over into the warm spot she had left and sank back into sleep. Harry´s wails quieted as Lily rocked him to and fro.

*

The roaring of Sirius´s motorbike shattered the quiet of Godric´s Hollow. Nothing seemed out of place in the town lying spread out beneath him, and yet there was an air of quiet menace permeating the still night. He wheeled the bike around in the air and forced it into a steep dive, plummeting towards a single house slightly out of town, set on the side of the hill. Two minutes to twelve, and the shadows were growing.

*

Lily, soothing Harry still, heard the bike and went quickly to the window, recognising it for Sirius´s. It was miles up in the air, so that all she could see was a faint dot of light, not much brighter than the cold stars that dotted the sky. And then -

A flash of light, a crash of power being released, and the house twitched beneath her feet as the dark-robed figure stepped through the front gate and smashed the weak wards that were the only ones the Fidelius would permit -

A roll of thunder echoed through the cloudless night, and Lily felt the wind touch her face and knew the Fidelius was broken too -

James, wearing pyjama pants, flung himself past her and began weaving defenses in the air, calling to her to run -

And Lord Voldemort calmly stepped through their front door.

*

Sirius felt it, heard it, knew he was too late. James´s familiar voice cried spells and hexes and desperate words of defiance, and then the side of the house split open in a blinding flash of scarlet flame. There was a flash of green light and a moment of soundlessness, despite the crashing rubble of the walls, and then James´s voice ceased. Sirius shrieked aloud and forced the bike downwards with all his strength - too far, too far away!

Lily screamed, a sound that pierced his eardrums with pure misery. He was close - close enough to leap the last few feet to the ground and sprint to the gaping hole that was the entrance to the house now, close enough to hurl himself up the splintering stairs and towards the last door, before the green light and the silence came again, and Lily was quiet.
And once more the green light flashed, as Sirius´s hand clasped the doorhandle, and the great invisible rushing thing that was death flew.
Midnight struck.
And with it, a powerful wall of force, rebounding off the centre of the darkness and forcing everything out - walls, bricks, chairs, tables, doors. Sirius felt it hit him, felt himself flung backwards and out and away from it, and saw the remains of James´s house float beside him. But he did not feel or see himself hitting the ground.

*

12th January 2003

Thanks to Amanda, TAK of TWAK, and Rowe - for inspiring me to get off my butt and finish this chapter. I promise, the next one won´t take four months.