Last Mistake

Chapter ten - Lessons one, two

He watched helplessly as life drained slowly away from his godson like the blood that was flowing freely from the opened wound. There was so much blood...his own hands were red with them. The bleeding wouldn't seem to stop even though the first thing he did was to conjure gauze to wrap around the ghastly wound on the left side of Harry's abdomen. The bleeding was persistently seeping through, and the redder the wound, the whiter his godson's face became. He tried calling his name, hoping that Harry would wake and open those emerald green eyes that would show him signs of life. But they never opened, not once.

Remus has gone to find help and Sirius desperately hoped that it wouldn't be too late. If he could, Harry would be at St. Mungo's now, being treated. But those damned Respitans forced everything to close down.

He hated waiting but that was all he could do at the moment. Harry was still limp in his arms. Sirius knew that each passing second meant that Harry was slipping further and further away from him. As he watched Harry's face that was marred with cold sweat, and twisted in agony and pain, he didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to do. Or what he would do if Harry doesn't make it... A sudden spasm of pain stabbed mercilessly at his heart when he imagined a world without Harry...his world without Harry. It almost felt as if someone was trying to wrench his beating heart out while he was still alive. And it hurt. It hurt so terribly bad...

He held Harry's closer, wanting to transfer the warmth from his to Harry's body. He had already taken his robe off to wrap around him, but he could still feel Harry shivering in his arms.

It was so cold. Everything was so cold.

He was devastated. The sight made him sick to his stomach. The indescribable pain he felt within his heart brought him to the brink of tears. He was helpless. He was useless, especially at a time when Harry needed him most. He'd never forgive himself if Harry died and he didn't do anything to stop it from happening. He would never ever forgive himself for that.

Where the bloody hell was Remus!

"Harry, stay with me! You've got to fight it! Stay with me-" he choked.

It seemed like forever before Remus found them again. By then, Sirius was calm and cool, and he would've seemed fine if not for the mixed of emotions in his eyes. He had allowed the rage, the burning hate, and anger take over him. It was the only way he could compose himself. It was the only way he could stop himself from breaking down into the mess he was inside. Without exchanging words, Sirius gathered his strength and had Harry in his arms as he rushed after Remus through the now opened entrance of the castle.

"I passed on the news and they've opened St. Mungo's back up as quickly as they could," Remus told him just as two men arrived through an authorized portkey.

Dumbledore was there, keeping order. His eyes landed on the young man in Sirius' arm and immediately led the two men through the crowd. Sirius reluctantly handed Harry to them.

"Be careful, he's got a wound on the left side of his abdomen," Sirius warned them.

They nodded and made quick work in securing Harry's wound so it won't be disturbed when they portkeyed to St. Mungo's.

"I'm coming with."

One of the workers nodded.

Remus began to speak but Sirius interrupted him.

"No, you stay here. They need you."

Remus began to protest but he stopped himself. Besides Sirius and him, they were the only two who knew what went on outside. The ministry would probably be sending someone soon and he knew he'd have to be the one to break the bad news--that none of the students survived.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Remus said, torn.

Sirius nodded. Remus gave him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder before Sirius rushed over to the workers. Within seconds, they disappeared to St. Mungo's.

Before he could continue on that train of thought, he was glad, for the first time, for Remus' interruption. It has been a long while since there was someone there to stop him from living those painful memories over again. And despite his outward attitude towards his one last friend and marauder, he felt better knowing that he wasn't entirely alone. He has been alone for far too long...and it was starting to take a toll on him, whether he admits it or not.

"May I come in?" asked Remus from the other side of the door.

"Yeah," Sirius replied, curtly.

Remus cautiously entered the room. He felt as if he was walking on eggshells whenever he was around Sirius, but that couldn't be helped. Their friendship was strained from all the unfortunate events that had happened. Most often, tragedy brings people together but that wasn't the case for them. Remus could only hope that it would get better and not worse.

Sirius wasn't blind...mentally, that is. He could sense Remus' hesitation since the day he arrived here. He also knew that Remus' hesitation was justified. It was him who kept pushing Remus away. It was him who disappeared off the face of the wizarding world. And it was his fault that things were the way they were between the two of them.

It wasn't his priority then and sad to say, it isn't now. But that doesn't mean that he didn't or don't care for their friendship. It just means that he has more pressing matters than their friendship in his mind. If Remus couldn't understand that, then he wasn't going to moan and groan over it.

"I brought you tea. Thought you might want something warm after all that alcohol you've consumed," he said, walking over the desk.

"Thanks," Sirius said, absentmindedly.

"So, have you figured it out?"

Sirius sighed heavily as Remus conjured two cups and pour tea into them.

"No, but I have a few ideas. Maybe you can confirm or deny them some of them since you've been around more than I have."

Remus pushed one of the teacups into Sirius' hand and took a seat on the bed.

"Alright, go ahead."

"Gringotts?"

Remus thought about it for a moment before answering.

"No. As far as I know, all of his personal and monetary possessions were already withdrawn and distributed according to his last will and testament. So, I doubt that key will do any good there. Any other ideas?"

"Have you been back at the house?" asked Sirius, referring to the one they both brought together.

"Not since the term started."

"I was wondering if he could've left something in his room that requires a key to open."

"There might be. I haven't really gone into his room since..." Remus trailed off.

"Maybe it's time we go back," said Sirius, almost reluctantly.

He had to find out what the key was for. Even though he knew it would be hard to step foot in that house and Harry's room after so long, he had no other choice. It was going to be a test of his emotions. He would handle that just as he has been handling it, by being emotionless.

"Maybe it is," Remus agreed.

Remus knew it must be hard for Sirius to even suggest that, but it was a start at acceptance. He wasn't going to scare Sirius away by being too forward or by making it seem like a big deal. But it was. Oh, it was.

"I'll go with you. We can travel by floo. Just let me know when you want to do this and I'll make arrangements."

"I'll let you know," Sirius replied.

Remus knew when he was being dismissed. Sirius could hear Remus' footsteps and the door as he walked away, closing it shut behind him.

Sirius sighed. He wished things weren't this way between them. They were almost like strangers. What ate at him most was that he knew exactly where the fault lies.

----------

"Nice work, Weasley."

"Yes, well done indeed. We've waited long enough to hold another Quidditch Cup here at home."

Ron Weasley beamed at the compliments. For the last month, he'd been working nonstop, talking, sweet mouthing, and negotiating for the British community to once again host the Quidditich World Cups. And for what it's worth, his efforts finally paid off. It was decided and set in stone for the next Quidditich World Cup to take place here, in London.

Despite the promise he made to himself to not be overzealous in his hopes, his imagination couldn't help but shift to the private office and higher income that would follow the promotion he had longed to have for so long. That is why he must be modest on the outside.

"I can't take all the credit, sir. A team effort, that was. Everyone here in the Department of Magical Games and Sports contributed in this accomplishment."

"Yes. Quite right, Weasley."

"Ron here is quite the modest fellow, isn't he?" a voice boomed from behind him. His boss. Bloder Haicher.

"Ah, the big man himself!" one of the ministry officials exclaimed. And a big man the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports was.

"Toleman, good of you to be here," he greeted the man, shaking hands. After shaking off the people gathered there, Bloder placed a hand lightly on Ron's shoulder, leading him away from the crowd.

"I swear I wasn't trying to steal the credit, sir," Ron said with a good natural smile.

"Sure you weren't Weasley," his boss grinned back. "Tell you what, take the night off. I'll handle the press."

"Don't bloody lie to me," said Ron. Bloder Haicher was a slave driver and Ron was more than justified to his doubt.

"I've never been more honest. You better go before I change my goddamn mind, Weasley."

"Thank you. Goodbye sir," Ron said hurriedly, rushing out of the office without another word.

Once he was out of the Ministry of Magic, he finally let himself truly enjoy the moment, jumping up with a 'woohoo!' After working on it for weeks with sleepless nights and endless letters to send and read, he couldn't wait to tell his family. His dad will be so excited and his mum...he could just imagine how proud she'd be. It was time his family had some good news. Before he disapparated, Ron decided he'd surprise them.

Unfortunately, he didn't realize that the real surprise was going to be on him.

----------

Remus returned to his office shortly after his encounter with Sirius, his estranged friend. Ever since he returned from wherever he came from, Remus was more stressed than before. He shouldn't have been surprised that nothing is ever boring and uncomplicated when Sirius Black was around. He shook his head at that thought and decided to spend the rest of his afternoon to do some good o' paperwork.

Only he ended up grading two parchments of his fifth year class assignment before an unexpected guest dropped in. The golden red creature landed on Remus' desk with a sort of grace that normal birds do not possess. Its presence radiates a power and mystical knowingness that resemble that of its owner.

"Fawkes, what brings you here?" asked Remus.

The phoenix nestled its head against Remus' hand and unknowingly ease some of his sorrow. After a few minutes, Fawkes lifted his head and raised his leg to Remus. Seeing the letter, Remus removed it from the phoenix's leg and opened it.

Remus,

Please meet me in my office at your earliest convenience.

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster

"Another private session, I presume?"

Fawkes flapped his wings as if he understood.

"I'm on my way," said Remus, watching as Fawkes promptly fly out of his window.

----------

As intended, Ron landed steadily in the sizable garden behind the Burrow. It wasn't much of a night off since the skies were already dark with untouchable shadows. Ron used those shadows to hide behind as he neared the back entrance. Light pooled on the ground diagonally below the windows as the creatures of the night sang in his ears. Hoping these sounds would cover those of his footsteps; he got closer until he reached one of those windows. Peaking inside, he was surprised to find it empty and silent.

'Did they go out? And if they did, why were the lights still on?'

Ron opened the backdoor and entered into the kitchen. As he walked further into the living room, he pondered over the possibilities. 'Perhaps they know my good news and want to surprise me like I want to surprise them.'

With a small grin on his face, Ron cautiously walked about, anticipating one of his family members to jump out at him. However, when he reached the end of the stairs, the grin on his face died off and the last of his happy thoughts melted away as intense panic seized his heart.

----------

"Punch me."

"What?"

"I said, punch me."

"Punch you?" he asked, skeptically.

"Yes! Punch me!"

Harry shrugged and threw a straight punch at Eaven's midsection. As he expected, his arm was now lodged in her transparent body. Annoyed, he pulled his arm back with a jerk.

"What was the point of that?" Harry asked, rubbing the odd feeling in his hand.

"What were you thinking of when you punched me?" she asked.

"That it wouldn't work," he answered.

"And...?" she prodded.

Harry stared at her, his lips sealed. She stared back, impatience written on her face.

"It was stupid," Harry finally stated.

"Right. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" she asked, teasingly. "But-" she began, noticing Harry's short fuse, "I was trying to demonstrate the first mistake that you should not make again when attempting to achieve a level of solidity. And that is to lack conviction and belief in your attempts. If you don't believe it'll work, then it most certainly won't. If you do believe... well, let's just say it'll make things hell of a lot easier. So, let's try that again."

"You're not afraid that I might carry through with a solid punch out of one of these punches?"

"Uh, at the rate you're going, I've got nothing to be afraid of," she said, confidently.

Eaven smiled at the effects her words were having on Harry. Despite the lack of emotions on his face, she didn't fail to notice the tightly clutched fists by his sides and the determined stance of his body.

'Nothing motivates more than wounded pride. Men.'

----------

"Albus-" Remus began, but was interrupted by the large headlines flashing on the Daily Prophet in front of him.

Remus sat down at the chair opposite Dumbledore's and took the papers in his hands to read.

Murders Resurfaces: Return of the Still Unknown Vigilante

Remus sucked in a breath as he read the last sentence of the article that described the brutal murder of one, Belletrix Lestranges.

He and Dumbledore have had this discussion for quite a while. There were numerous numbers of former Death Eaters murdered in the same exact manner before, but all of them were those that only played minor roles on Voldemort's side. However, as time wore on, it seems that the Mysterious Vigilante was finally catching on to those who were part of Voldemort's inner circle.

Despite the fact that the Vigilante's targets were mainly those with a less than honest criminal record, Dumbledore and him agreed on one thing. And that happened to be the pure instinctual feeling that something was off about this Vigilante. There were a number of possibilities behind this Vigilante's motives, but the one that seems to make the most sense was the suggestion that this Vigilante is someone that is out for...revenge.

What takes away most from that possibility is the very meticulous and precise way these murders were carried out. It was almost as if they were done by a professional assassin and not by someone who was only out for mad revenge. From these murders, never once did they find potent evidence that could help track this person down.

Chills ran down Remus' spine just imagining being an Auror or an investigator at the crime scene and not finding a trace of the murderer, but the bloodstains and the lifeless body left behind.

"Albus! Albus!"

Remus was snapped out of his thoughts at the voice of a hysterical Molly Weasley through the fireplace.

"Molly!" Dumbledore replied, surprised.

"Albus! Oh, Albus!" she sobbed.

"Arthur's not here! I don't know what to do! Oh! They've hurt my poor Ron! I need Arthur... Oh Merlin, there's so much blood! St. Mungo's!Got to get him to St. Mungo's!"

"Molly!" Dumbledore called, but the fire burned out.

----------

After attempting to punch for who knows how long, Harry lost track of the amount of punches he had thrown. It must've been over a hundred jabs and he was surprised that he didn't feel the least bit tired.

"That's because you didn't do anything during all this time."

"How'd you-" Harry began. He swore he didn't say that out loud.

"Read your mind?" she finished for him.

'She better not be able to read my mind!' he thought.

"Don't worry, I can't read your mind," she said. Eaven almost laughed at the sourness making its way onto Harry's face.

"Are you bloody kidding me!"

"Look, don't worry. I can only read surface thoughts. No, I won't find out anytime soon your deep dark secrets and stuff," she tried to reassure him.

"Why didn't you tell me before this? What other skills do you have that I should know about?"

"Well, I'll have to save these questions for another time." She swore Harry almost scowled. Almost. "Let's keep on trying your punches."

"It's not working," Harry said, plainly.

"Of course not. One clear indication of that is that you're not tired. Believe me when I say this solidifying business is supposed to wear you out if you do it correctly. Alright, lesson two. Solidifying your movements does not necessarily mean the solid that you understand as a living being."

"As I've said before, you are a spirit. While living beings are alive, they also contain spirits. When you have a body to occupy this spirit, they become one. Meaning if you can control body, you can control the spirit or at least affect it. And same goes for the other way around. If you can control the spirit, even to the smallest extent, you can control the body. Of all people, I think you understand when I say that pain is not only physical."

"At the moment, you're in a very underdeveloped stage. The reason I know that is that you can go through yourself."

And sure enough, when he tried to touch his own arm, he went right through it, one arm overlapping the other.

"I'm not physical either, like you. By developing your control and concentration, you should be able to touch me without going right through. And truth be told, even if you did managed to punch me, for real, the worst that could happen would be me being shoved a few feet away. But to use your power on someone with a body... you could do so much more."

"I appreciate you explaining all this to me after I've done all those punches without a sickle of understanding of what solidifying means," Harry said, bitterly.

"You're welcome," she grinned.

But the next question Harry asked caused her grin to slowly fade away.

"Do you mean to say that if I could choke someone's spirit, I can kill him or her physically?" he asked, not a hint of emotion on his face.

Eaven tried to read his mind, but it was blank...or he had found someway to hide his thoughts from her.

Harry remained stoic as he stared her in the eye with a look that forced her to say nothing but the naked truth. After what seemed like tension-filled hours, he got his answer.

"Yes."