The fox Patronus belonged to Snape, and, as with anything Snape-related, Sirius had a bad feeling about it.
“Hope he doesn't want an invitation to dessert,” he mumbled, watching the thing warily as it slunk up to Kingsley's chair.
“Play it out loud,” Remus suggested.
Kingsley pointed his wand at it and made a complicated waving motion; the fox dissolved into a silvery mist and Snape's voice filled the room.
“We have a problem,” it said. “Potter and several of his gang have gone missing in the last few hours. He and Granger were last seen leading Dolores Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest around sunset; I am headed there to search for them now. However, Potter was laboring under the delusion earlier that the Dark Lord was holding Black captive in the Department of Mysteries. Knowing his wont for rash and ill-conceived heroics, I suggest rounding up any available Order members and checking for him there as well. Except, of course, for Black, who can make himself useful by informing Dumbledore of these developments when he arrives. Please confirm receipt of message.”
Sirius leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair. “Voldemort!” he growled, stating the obvious. Voldemort had lured Harry to the Department of Mysteries.
He began to pace agitatedly as the others stood too, their expressions grim. This was his fault. He — he personally — should have warned Harry never to go to the Department of Mysteries, no matter what. But Dumbledore had been so sure Occlumency lessons with Snape would work....
Sirius laughed mirthlessly. That plan had been a disaster. Even if Snape was on their side — which again was looking very iffy — Dumbledore should have known his sense of duty stood no chance against his hatred of James.
Well, Sirius would have to deal with Snivelly later. Right now he had a godson to save.
“How do we get there?” he asked abruptly. “Floo? Apparate?”
“Better to Apparate,” said Mad-Eye, who was retrieving his magical eye from the goblet. “Don't want the Floo Regulatory bunch trying to trace our point of origin.”
“I'll tell Snape we've got the message and we're on our way,” said Tonks, hurrying over to the fireplace. She threw in a pinch of Floo powder and shot off a reply.
“Sirius, we will need to leave a message for Dumbledore,” said Remus quietly. “Do you have a quill and some ink?”
At least they all had the sense not to suggest he stay back, Sirius thought, scanning the kitchen anxiously. Quill and ink ... quill and ink.... His eyes landed on the door to the boiler room.
“No need,” he said. “Kreacher!”
The boiler room door opened with a creak. Kreacher shuffled out, sinking into a low bow at Sirius's feet. Sirius frowned; he'd thought the elf had been upstairs all this while.
“Master has summoned —”
“Have you been here this whole ... nevermind — listen, I need you to tell Dumbledore when he gets here that we've gone to the Department of Mysteries to look for Harry and the other kids. Got it?”
“Master's wish is Kreacher's command,” croaked the elf, a trace of amusement in his voice. “Kreacher lives to serve —”
Sirius's frown deepened. The elf was up to something. He shook his head: There was no time to worry about that now.
“What are we waiting for?” he asked, turning back. The others were gathered by the door. Tonks shrugged and led the way out.
The five of them hurried up the stairs, out the front door, and into the heavy, warm summer night air. Sirius felt like someone had lit a fire in his head — a strength and clarity of mind he hadn't known since he'd escaped from Azkaban. Snape's announcement was having the same effect on him that Wormtail's picture had.
“Hold on,” said Mad-Eye abruptly, throwing out an arm that Sirius almost ran into. The old Auror extracted a Put-Outer from one of his robe pockets, stepped up to the edge of the porch, and started clicking it, putting out the street lamps of Grimmauld Place one by one.
“Is that really necessary?” Sirius demanded. Moody ignored him. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself; every moment they stayed here was another moment Harry's life was in danger.
Finally the street was dark, and the five of them dashed across it to the vacant lot.
“Apparition point is the Ministry Atrium,” Kingsley told Sirius and Remus. “Wait here a minute, we'll make sure no one's there.” They nodded; the other three turned and Disapparated, their cracks muffled by the pounding beat of Muggle music issuing from one of the houses nearby.
“Do you think this was why Snivelly stopped giving Harry Occlumency lessons?” Sirius asked darkly, throwing Remus a significant look. “Why he waited a few hours to tell us Harry'd disappeared into the forest....”
“We can worry about that later,” said Remus, plainly skeptical.
Sirius shook his head. “I swear if anything happens to my godson....”
“We'll worry about it later,” Remus repeated firmly.
“All clear,” said Tonks, reappearing a moment later. “Aim for the fountain.”
Sirius closed his eyes and tried to remember the goofy-looking gold fountain in the Ministry Atrium; he turned and Disapparated, arriving moments later in that vast, dark, empty hallway, with Nym and Moony at his side.
The only sound that greeted them was a quiet rush of water from the statues in the Fountain of Magical Brethren.
“This way,” said Tonks, starting toward a pair of golden gates at the end of the hall. The three of them ran, their footsteps pounding off the polished, dark-wood floors and echoing around the Atrium.
Kingsley and Mad-Eye were holding a lift just beyond the gates. They all piled in, Kingsley hitting a button marked nine, and a pair of golden grilles slid smoothly shut. The lift descended slowly — too slowly in Sirius's opinion — its chains clattering and jangling loudly while its occupants stood in anxious silence.
It came to a halt one floor down. “Department of Mysteries,” said a cool female voice, and the golden grilles slid open again.
They stepped out into a dungeon corridor lined with torches, the nearest of which were flickering in the rush of air from the lift.
Sirius tried to remember everything Dumbledore had told them about the Department of Mysteries as Kingsley led them down the hallway toward a plain black door. They studied the great mysteries of the universe — time, the mind, love, death.... And they kept records of prophecies, one of which Voldemort believed would tell him how to destroy Harry.
The plain black door swung open as they approached. Everyone automatically slowed down, even Sirius — who gripped his wand rather tightly, registering for the first time how inexplicably eerie this place was. One by one, they filed cautiously over the threshold.
On the other side was large, circular black room: black floor, black ceiling, and a dozen or so handleless black doors set at intervals around a circular black wall. Between the doors were branches of blue-flamed candles which flickered spookily, reflecting in the polished black floor so that it looked like they were standing on dark water.
“Well?” said Sirius, turning to Mad-Eye, whose magical eye was slowly revolving in its socket, peering through each of the doors in turn.
Mad-Eye turned abruptly, pointing with two gnarled fingers. “Those two — Death Chamber — Potter, Longbottom, ten Death Eaters!”
Tonks burst through one of the doors, Sirius hot on her heels. Kingsley, Mad-Eye, and Remus came hurtling through the other. Some twenty feet below them, on a raised dais, stood Harry, surrounded by Death Eaters.
Sirius and the others were instantly raining down spells on the Death Eaters. Sirius recognized the white-blond head of Lucius Malfoy — who, it appeared, had been reaching out toward Harry to take something — just as it got hit by a Stunner. Malfoy keeled over.
“Sorry, Uncle Lucey,” Tonks muttered, as they started jumping down the stone steps.
“Nice one, Nym,” said Sirius, grinning. He ducked a jet of green light; the Death Eaters were starting to return fire.
Harry had already dived off the dais and taken cover. Sirius knew he had to find him and get him out of there as soon as possible. He jumped from stone step to stone step, aiming and dodging hexes, scanning the room for that familiar shock of untidy black hair.
He reached the floor. There was Harry, on his right ... and a masked Death Eater bearing down on him from the left....
Sirius had no choice but to engage. He ducked and parried the Death Eater's spells, throwing back a few of his own. Harry was in this goon's line of fire, he realized — he stepped up his offensive, pushing the man back. Soon they were dueling so fast their wands were blurs.
In spite of the danger, Sirius couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so alive. He deflected a steady stream of curses back at their caster, who nearly tripped trying to avoid them. If only he could get Harry out of there, he thought, he might even start to enjoy himself.
First he needed to turn this guy around and get a better view of Harry. Easier thought than done though, he discovered, as he began to lose ground in the attempt....
He and the Death Eater lurched past Harry. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius noticed his godson had just felled another of these morons — and he had the prophecy.
Atta boy, Harry.
But moments later, another Death Eater was bearing down on the kid. Sirius redoubled his efforts against his current opponent, aiming a Trip Jinx at the man's legs, followed by a Stunner to the chest. The guy went down. Sirius added a Confundus Charm for good measure, leapt over him, and rammed Harry's attacker out of the way with his shoulder.
Harry was on the floor, sprawled across a pair of twitching legs, but otherwise okay it seemed. Sirius sent a string of hexes at his attacker, who turned out to be Antonin Dolohov, the man who murdered the Prewetts. Sirius ducked a curse and Dolohov drew his wand arm back, as if to make a slashing motion —Â
“Petrificus Totalus!” Dolohov's arms and legs snapped together and he keeled over backward, landing with a crash on his back. Sirius turned back; Harry was on his feet again.
“Nice one!” he shouted, forcing his godson's head down as a pair of Stunning Spells flew toward them. The twitching legs, he noticed, belonged to Neville Longbottom, whose face looked very much like his mother's. “Now I want you to get out of —”
They both ducked again. A jet of green light had narrowly missed Sirius. He looked across the room to see where it had come from and saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone seat to stone seat. His mouth went dry. Who had she been fighting?
Then he saw the very smug-looking answer running back toward the fray — Bellatrix.
“Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!” Sirius yelled, dashing to meet his cousin.
He fired a Trip Jinx that grazed her ankle. She caught herself and, in one fluid motion, spun back around and fired several hexes at him. Her eyes lit up with malicious pleasure when she saw who it was.
“Wittle Sirius has come out to pway!" cried Bellatrix, making an impressive leap backward onto the dais as she deflected his onslaught of offensive spells. “Here to save the bitty baby Potter brat, are you?"
“That's right,“ said Sirius, jumping up after her. As Bella made a quick mock bow, his eyes darted to the crumbling stone arch, hung with a tattered black veil, that stood in the middle of the dais. It was this, unless he was much mistaken, that gave the Death Chamber its name.
“That's too bad," said Bella with a theatrical pout, hurling several hexes at him. “He's as good as dead.“
Sirius parried her spells with ease. He knew her style, his instincts were built on them. And dueling, like riding a broom, was something you never forgot.
“Funny, last I checked he was still alive," said Sirius conversationally, knocking a few more of Bella's spells back at her. “And he had the prophecy. What's the matter, couldn't ten big bad Death Eaters get it out of him?"
Bella looked slightly disgruntled. “Well if Lucius —"
As if on cue, Malfoy came smashing into the dais. Bellatrix was momentarily distracted, but managed to throw up a Shield Charm before Sirius could land a spell.
Sirius laughed. “Don't tell me Voldemort put Lucius in charge? I thought you were his favorite, cousin dearest?"
He'd hit a nerve, he could tell by the clench in her jaw, which was even more prominent now that Azkaban had hollowed her face. Her next shots flew wide.
“Bloody shame," Sirius pressed, smirking. “All those years you spent rotting in Azkaban for him, while Lucius sat cozy at home, denying everything, not even bothering to look for his Master." He clicked his tongue. “And still Voldemort chose him over you?"
Bella's face hardened at the name; she looked furious but kept her mouth shut. The two of them had slowly begun to circle the dais, the noise around them fading to a dull background roar in Sirius's ears.
He feinted left, threw a spell from the right; Bella blocked it, returning her own. They were watching each other's every twitch, looking for that split-second advantage....
Sirius really was enjoying himself now; it almost felt like they were kids again, doing underage magic in the stuffy old attic, training for a pretend war before lunch — rather than notorious outlaws, fighting in a real battle of life and death raging deep within the Ministry.
Bella threw a jet of red light at him, but he ducked it, laughing.
“Come on, you can do better than that!“ he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room. Suddenly he noticed how quiet the place had gone.
It only distracted him for a second, but that was all she needed. Her second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.
Sirius hadn't even stopped laughing and suddenly he was falling.
No! he thought. He'd been standing in front of the veil. He was going to die. No, no, no.
Harry ... he couldn't die, his godson needed him....
But an icy vacuum, cold as death itself, was pulling him back towards the veil, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His body curved in a graceful arc.
There was nothing he could do to save Harry ... he didn't even get to say goodbye....
Time seemed to be slowing down around him, a rushing noise filled his ears. Then, as his head brushed the curtain, as Sirius Black lingered on the threshold of being and non-being — it happened.
Like a flash of white lightening it filled his head, a truth so stunning and beautiful he knew that it was what would kill him, for surely no human being could experience such a thing and live to tell the tale. Suspended in the moment before his death, he knew that there could be no death — only change.
And there was nothing to fear in change, because it was all he knew. What part of him hadn't been changing all his life? His body had, his mind had — so what did it matter if they changed once more in death? Because if, in an instant, they ceased to exist, this was only another type of change.
But his soul, that would be preserved, by the most powerful and ancient magic known to humankind: Love. He had loved Harry, fiercely, and that love was reflected in Harry's love for him. And so, when he disappeared bodily, a transformation would begin — a transformation that would leave an imprint of his soul on the earth — inside Harry.
A feeling of profound and deepest calm swept over him, and Sirius knew — knew that souls fused by love were immeasurably strengthened, and that this inner magical strength was the most important gift he could ever give his godson, the boy who would one day defeat Voldemort.
And that, he thought, as time began to flow again and his body slid past the ancient veil, was something worth dying for.
••••••••••••
A/N — In PoA, Dumbledore says to Harry, "You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself most plainly when you have need of him."
My idea is that when a wizard dies for someone they love, they can leave part of their soul earthbound in them. This is much more powerful than a lonely ghost wandering the earth forever, because souls can do a lot more when they are in bodies, and because the fusion of the dead person's soul with the living strengthens and reinforces both.
So in my story, Sirius continues to exist as something like a magical memory, hidden in Harry. It's a bit like the diary horcrux, but rather than murdering to split the soul and keep it in an object, Sirius sacrificed himself for someone he loves, and a bit of his soul is fused with and kept in Harry. And unlike Tom possessing Ginny against her will, Sirius is simply waiting to be called into Harry's service whenever Harry most has need of him. Like James manifests as a Patronus and Lily as a love-force in Harry's blood. My guess is he'll show up as a reflection in a certain two-way mirror, or a voice from beyond the veil.
With James, Lily, Sirius, and Dumbledore all having died, I believe, out of love for Harry, and having left a bit of their souls in him, I think Harry has much greater reserves of magical power than he even realizes. And I don't see how Voldemort's shattered, scattered soul can stand a chance against him in the end.
Anyway, stop by the feedback thread to pay your last respects to Mr. Black.