Chapter 20: The Final Struggle
“Sirius, I think you should hear this. It’s about Harry.”
Sirius looked up, in shock. He was feeding Buckbeak some rats in the attic. What could have happened to Harry?
Arthur looked uncomfortable. “He, uh ... he’s just been expelled.”
Sirius blinked. “From Hogwarts?” he asked, in shock. Arthur nodded.
“Dumbledore’s trying to work it out, and I’ve just sent him a letter telling him not to surrender his wand. But ... well, I’m sure they’ll suspend it, give him a hearing. I mean, he was attacked by Dementors, he had to use a Patronus to stop them ... well, you know.”
Sirius reached for some parchment and a quill, and quickly scribbled his own message to Harry, warning him not to leave the house. He wouldn’t like it, but he knew Harry would listen to his advice.
A little later, Dumbledore appeared back at Grimmauld Place. “Do not worry too much, Harry has merely been suspended, for now. He has a hearing at Ministry on the twelfth of August. Arthur, I presume you will be able to escort him ...”
“Of course,” Arthur said, nodding. Sirius stood at the back, scowling. He had been stuck in this house for so long already, and knew that he had a lot longer to go. He had begged to Dumbledore so many times to be allowed out, but his old Headmaster had remained firm. There was nothing he could do, but continue trying to make the house habitable. He hated being stuck here. Last time, he and James in particular had been key members of the Order, part of every mission they could. Particularly after Lola died, Sirius had done what he could with such force, a lot of the other members had been unnerved by him.
And now what was he doing? He was cleaning. Even Snape was doing so much more than he was.
“I presume,” Sirius said, “that we will be collecting him, and bringing him back here?”
“Naturally,” Dumbledore replied. “But it will take a little more planning than arriving at his Aunt and Uncles, and merely walking away with him. Attention must not be brought to this house. Do we have volunteers?”
Eleven people raised their hand, Sirius included. Dumbledore look pleasantly surprised, but his eyes saddened upon reaching Sirius, who was only volunteering in protest, to be honest. He knew that he would not be on the squad who went to Harry.
“Sirius ...” Dumbledore warned, slight exasperation in his voice. Sirius lowered his hand. There was an uncomfortable air in the room.
Three days later, Harry arrived. This was evident when the portrait of Mrs Black began screaming obscenities, and Sirius and Remus had had to try desperately to close the curtains and get her to be quiet. It was only once this had been done, that Sirius was able to turn to Harry, and say, *“I see you’ve met my mother.”*
Harry had an eclectic mix of emotions on his face. Confusion, happiness, relief, and a little anger. Sirius wasn’t really surprised. He knew perfectly well how Harry must be feeling.
His own feelings of happiness at seeing his Godson again were quickly dispelled. Soon, Harry became part of the woodwork at Grimmauld Place, as Sirius, Molly and whoever they could rope into helping continued trying to clean the house. He enjoyed speaking to Harry, but had reached such a state of melancholy that he was even getting sick of himself. He had hated being trapped at Azkaban, but at least then he hadn’t had everybody else strolling in and out at leisure. At least then he hadn’t had the knowledge that the only reason he himself wasn’t leaving as he pleased, was because his old headmaster had told him not to.
But Harry being with him helped a little. In fact, he almost wanted Harry to stay suspended. They could live to together permanently, like they’d planned. He had to keep reminding himself that Harry wasn’t James. But sometimes when he walked into the room, or Sirius saw him in the corner of his eyes, his heart skipped a beat. Living with a constant reminder of his best friend was both good and bad for him.
When it came to the hearing, Sirius spent the day with Buckbeak. Molly knocked on the door to try and get him to come out, and even Remus stopped by to try and talk to him, but he was in far too much of a brooding mood.
When he heard Harry return, he went straight downstairs. From the atmosphere, it was clear that he was going back to Hogwarts in September.
Sirius began to feel a clock ticking down inside him, counting the days until he was alone again.
Around a week after Harry had left, Sirius was in the kitchen, summing up the courage to read the Daily Prophet. He hadn’t seen anyone all weekend. He got up to get himself a butterbeer, and could hear Molly tutting in disapproval as if she was really there, but it served only to make him glug back half the bottle in protest. He caught sight of himself in a wall mirror, and grimaced. He picked up the newspaper, and flicked through it, uninterestedly. His own name caught his eye, and he smiled; reading articles on himself always gave him a twisted amount of pleasure. This particular one was of note.
Apparently, someone had tipped off the Ministry that he was in London. But no one outside the Order knew where he was, and Dumbledore had made sure that they never told anyone “ he was Secret Keeper of that little bit of information, too.
But London was more general than ‘Number 12, Grimmauld Place’. Anyone who spotted him could report him. But the only time he had been outside was escorting Harry to Platform 9 and ¾. And no one knew he was an Animagus ...
He shook it off, finished his butterbeer, and went to feed Buckbeak.
The day before he had received a letter from Harry, telling him of their new Defence professor: Umbridge, the woman who had made getting a job so hard for Remus. It also mentioned his scar hurting again, and a subtle hint about Hagrid. He planned to contact them through the Gryffindor fireplace, knowing how risky it would be to reply in a letter.
He managed to do this, and seeing Harry again lifted his spirits considerably. On a whim, he suggested that he visited them in Hogsmeade, in his Animagus form.
As Harry, Ron and Hermione, began to protest, shocked and afraid at the mere thought, he began to get angry again. As he stared at Harry, one thought penetrated his mind, and it crushed him.
*“You’re less like your father than I thought. The risk would’ve been what made it fun for James.”*
He made an excuse about Kreacher, and pulled his head back out of the fire.
He was back to being sullen again, and headed straight for his supply of butterbeers.
The door banged open, and Mundungus entered, to a series of protests from Mrs Black.
“SHUT UP, you old HAG!” Sirius screeched, pulling the curtains closed.
“You look awful,” Mundungus told him. Sirius raised a sarcastic eyebrow, and moved on into the kitchen. “Got any Firewhisky?”
Sirius opened a cupboard, and took out a bottle, then poured it into two silver cups. “So, what have you got to tell me?” he asked.
“How about some news on young Harry’s latest rebellion scheme?”
“His latest what?”
Mundungus grinned slowly, clearly immensely pleased that he was the bearer of this kind of news. “Well, you know I was on watch for him yesterday? Turns out it was a Hogsmeade weekend. I heard them planning to go to the Hog’s Head, and “ well, you know my history with that place. So I nipped in to see this mate of mine, who’s handy with disguises, and managed to beat them to it, dressed as a witch, like.”
“Dung, has this story got any kind of interesting point to it?” Sirius asked, gulping down the last of his Firewhisky, and pouring himself another.
“Alright, have patience. So, there I am, dressed as a witch, and the bartender has no idea who I am, of course. And then comes Harry and his two friends, and they order themselves some butterbeer, and go over to a large table. And I thought to myself, What do they need all that space for? But I soon found out when about twenty other kids come in, and order a load of drinks as well. And they all group round, and start this ... this meeting, like.”
“In the Hog’s Head?”
“The very place. Turns out they’re setting up this organisation in rebellion against that new Defence teacher of theirs. Young Harry’s going to teach a select few all he knows, as his own secret class, like. Course, the whole pub probably heard, and I won’t be surprised if Umbridge finds out anyway. Wonder how the old bag’ll take it ...”
Sirius was laughing loudly. “And they did all this at the Hog’s Head? The fools, Umbridge will know by the end of the day! Still, you’ve got to give them credit, it’s an interesting idea. Harry’s?”
“The girl’s as far as I can make out. Quite the little organizer she was. The kind of person who could sort our government out in about half an hour, if she was given the chance.”
Sirius smiled at this image. “You’re probably right, too! Come on, let’s have another drink, and toast them.”
“Right you are, mate, right you are. To naïve rebellions?”
“To naïve rebellions!” Sirius agreed, clanking his goblet on Mundungus’s.
Learning of Harry’s secret rebellion at Hogwarts brought Sirius out of his brooding state for a while, and he had a lot of fun that night, as more people found out. He was able to reminisce with Remus about their own excursions, and even though he had to assure Molly that he would insist on her part that they didn’t go through with it, he himself thought it was an excellent idea.
And he was able to tell them so as well, which made his day even more.
What he had said about James to Harry was forgotten about, it didn’t matter any more.
He was still alone a lot of the time, but he was able to close his eyes and think about the stand his Godson was taking. Even though he himself could do nothing remotely interesting with his life, he was happy knowing that the person he cared most about was doing enough for the both of them.
The house became full again at Christmastime, when Arthur was bitten by a giant snake while guarding the Department of Mysteries. Although it was horrible at the time, as soon as he was in the clear, Sirius was able to enjoy the house being full of life once again. He was the happiest he had been in a long time, and had even taken to singing loudly as he went about his business.
But a visit from Snape destroyed that. He learnt that Harry would be having Occlumency lessons with him, something that Sirius was immediately concerned about. Leaving Harry in the hands of the most loathed person that he wasn’t technically at war with, was almost too much. It was this visit that made him realise that soon, he would be alone again, and he began to feel reclusive again. He avoided company, although he managed to meet with Dumbledore at one point.
“You can’t give Snape that job, Professor!” he argued, heatedly. “It would make so much more sense for you to teach him! He and Snape will get nowhere together, and you know it.”
“Sirius, you know all too well that I “”
“Have your reasons for trusting Snape, I know. But I personally haven’t ever been given any proof that he’s stopped working for Voldemort. And I don’t see why you can’t just teach him yourself!”
“I have my reasons for that matter, also. But I do not wish to discuss them at the moment. If I were you, Sirius, I would go home and enjoy the time you have left in Harry’s company. He won’t be staying at Grimmauld Place forever. In fact, he only has a day before he must return to School. Do not waste it.”
Sirius glared. “What happened to you, lately? It’s like you don’t care about anyone anymore. It would be easy for you to teach Harry, and if it’s so important he can do Occlumency, it makes a lot more sense to pair him with a teacher he doesn’t hate, and who doesn’t hate him in return.”
He left, apparating home. He then spent hours searching for something, so that he barely even saw Harry. He knew how much it would hurt him, so instead, he tried to find something that he hadn’t laid eyes on for a long time. If he could only find it, everything would be so much easier ...
Eventually, he did, just in time, and presented it to Harry wrapped in brown paper. It was one of the mirrors that he and James had used in their school days. He stared at the place where the Knight Bus disappeared for what seemed like forever, a horrible sense of foreboding growing inside him.
Between then and Harry’s OWLs, a lot seemed to happen, and Sirius remained feeling helpless about it.
There was a mass Azkaban breakout, and seeing Bellatrix’s face on the front of the Daily Prophet haunted him.
He remembered all the times she had bullied him in his early childhood.
He remembered her and LaLa turning up at the Quidditch shop, and killing Mr Humphrey. How they had only just managed to escape.
He remembered her killing Lola in front of him, and the sick smile that had crept across her face as she had done so.
He remembered her coming to his flat, and taking her him and LaLa hostage, where LaLa had later been killed also, the night of Lily and James’s own deaths.
He remembered seeing her being brought into Azkaban, shrieking that she would always remain Voldemort’s most loyal servant.
The amount of death connected with her made his skin crawl. And now she was released into the open again. How could that monster be free? How could the Ministry still deny that Voldemort had returned, when evidence seemed to be mounting daily?
A while after this, news came from McGonagall that Harry and his Defence Association had been caught in the act, and as a consequence, Dumbledore had been forced to leave Hogwarts, and Umbridge had somehow managed to become Headmistress.
Harry appeared in the fire, asking desperately about James. He had apparently fallen into the Pensieve, and had seen the afternoon when they had taunted Snape by the lake after their Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL. He was confused as to why Harry wasn’t using the mirrors, which would be far safer, but didn’t get the chance to ask.
They heard from a delighted McGonagall that Hogwarts was in disarray, thanks to Fred and George sparking the largest student rebellion against authority that anyone could ever remember, with Peeves joining in for all he was worth, and all the staff except Umbridge and Filch doing absolutely nothing to help.
And then, Harry was doing his OWLs. Sirius was in a reasonably good mood, knowing of the destruction happening at Hogwarts. His only grievance was that he couldn’t be there helping things along. The Marauder that remained inside him was begging to have a hand in the chaos. He imagined what it would be like if all four of them were there, in their youth again, and the thought made him laugh every time. Umbridge would be a quivering wreck.
His hatred for the woman he had never even met deepened when McGonagall was admitted to St Mungo’s with her injuries. He couldn’t visit her, although he wanted to, so had to content himself with writing a letter to her. He had always had a respect for her, and it had grown during the last year. His need to fight was mounting.
On the evening he knew Harry had taken his final exam, he was planning on finding a way to contact them, and congratulate them on the end of their OWLs. He hoped it would serve as a distraction from wanting to be doing something drastic.
Instead, he heard from Snape that Harry had gone to the Department of Mysteries.
He was told to stay while the Order went.
He refused.
He left Grimmauld Place with them, and he was finally able to release all his energy.
It felt so good to finally be in the thick of battle.
It was there that he duelled against Bellatrix.
It was there that he died.
Quote Notes:
* - From chapter “Number twelve, Grimmauld Place”, page 75, UK hardback
* - From chapter “Percy and Padfoot”, page 273, UK hardback
AN: Well. Well. Now I know how JK must feel coming to the end of book 7. No, this isn’t the end. But there’s only one chapter left, and that’s more of an epilogue. I’ve been working on this fic for about a year. It’s so bizarre that his story is finally ending. Please review.