Subpoena

Sirius tumbled into a dark, dingy hallway. It smelled faintly of mold, mothballs, and rust. Upon inspection he noticed the walls had a familiar emerald wastcotting that ended stopped at hip height, meeting silver Bonaparte wallpaper. A tightness took hold of Sirius’ lungs, his body becoming rigid as a hiss crawled into his throat. His ears perked and his head turned as he heard swearing coming from behind the oak door on his right. Sirius swallowed, willing his suddenly dry mouth to become wet again, and pushed open the entry of his father’s study.

Sirius recoiled at the sight of his earliest memory before him: it was his fourth birthday. The day his aunt had run off with a muggleborn called Tonks. 

“Do you understand me child?” Walburga screeched. “I would rather you died! I would rather you die than betray this house!”

She pointed her wand and with a slashing movement created another cut on top of the dozens in the toddler’s skin.

However, unlike the first time these events occurred, it was not a boy weeping silently into his hands before his mother. It was a girl. She was tiny, much smaller than Sirius had been at that age, with icy eyes that took up the larger part of her face. She was not crying, as Sirius had done, nor hiding behind her silvery blond hair. Instead she was looking up at Walburga with a determination beyond her years, never flinching at the deep wounds appearing in her flesh. Sirius wanted to intervene, to protect the child who had taken his place, but as he moved to do so a faint red wisp appeared in the air before him. He reached for it, but as he did it drifted out of the study door. The man turned, looking behind him before following it. His watery eyes met Luna’s fierce ones. 

“Go,” they seemed to say. 

“Crucio!” 

He turned and brushed the wisp with his fingertips, falling into another memory as the child’s screams began. 

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Sirius gazed at the frail boy before him. Broken. Bloody. And badly scarred. 

They sat in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. There was a log burning in the fireplace at the end of the row of beds, giving the infirmary a warmth similar to one’s first sip of butterbeer. Looking to his left, he saw that the blonde girl from before had aged. She no longer was a toddler, but a newly sorted Hogwarts student. Her attention was fixated on the stoic boy laying in bed before them. 

“I just don’t understand why you won’t tell us,” she spoke softly, one hand on the boy’s arm. “You don’t go home to a sick mum and come back looking like this.”

Sirius glanced out the window. It was snowing. He felt his stomach clench. It was just before the holidays of their first year at school. Just months before the marauders cracked their friend’s furry little secret.

“I told you, it’s nothing,” Remus said, refusing to look his visitor in the eye. “It’s better if you leave it alone.”

Luna’s brow furrowed as she gripped Lupin’s arm and flipped it so she could look at his wrist. There were deep crimson slashes where unbroken skin should have been; silvery scars climbed up the length of the boy's arm, some spilling onto his throat and cheeks. 

“Do they do this to you?” She breathed, wide eyed and seething.

Remus was silent for a long time before answering. A red wisp appeared at the foot of the hospital bed; Sirius stood to meet it.

Remus shook his head softly, finally meeting Luna’s gaze.

“I do this to me.”

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Sirius was in the Hogwarts courtyard now. Judging by the fresh buds on the trees and the brisk air it was early spring. His blonde counterpart sat just ahead of him on a bench, back to back with an all too familiar face. 

James. 

His heart dropped, shooting an ache throughout his body. At their feet sat Remus, nose deep in a book, and Peter, trying desperately to mimic James’ carefree body language. Judging by the volume of James’ hair and the snitch he was playing with, it was fifth year. Sirius braced himself for what he knew must be coming next. 

“Hey McKinnon, fancy a snog?” Luna called across the grounds to a honey skinned ravenclaw. She seemed shocked at the words leaving her mouth and frowned at Sirius accordingly, ignoring the laughter erupting from the other three marauders. 

“Not even if you looked like Potter, Black,” the girl retorted, flipping through her magazine without raising her head. 

In perfect unison, Sirius and Luna’s eyes drifted to the open castle hallway, settling upon a plucky slytherin who was trying (and failing) to keep something hidden under his robes. The pair of memory visitors stood and hurried to catch up with the boy. 

“Regulus,” Luna whispered through clenched teeth once she was behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, “Why haven’t you answered my letters?”

The boy turned to face her, a sneer upon his lips.

“Mother doesn’t approve of our correspondence,” he said loftily, “as I’ve told you many times.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t minded her before. What’ve you gotten yourself into?”

“It isn’t your business!” Regulus replied, jerking away from her touch and towards the building. “Sod off!”

“Not until you tell me. I want to help you, Reg. You don’t have to spend your life taking orders from them.”

“And what, end up like you?”

“Yes. Alphard’s left me a bit of gold. I’m leaving this summer. You could come with me.”

The two measured each other silently, Sirius biting his bottom lip as he watched the scene play out before him. He could see the red wisp begin to form as Regulus opened his mouth to speak. 

“I’d rather die than betray this house.”

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“Shit shit shit,” he heard the girl hiss.

Everything around them was engulfed in flame. The smoke was thick, nearly too thick to see through. The splintering crack that rang through the air was a warning; this building would not stand for much longer. 

“Prongs! Prongs! Jam-“ Luna’s screams were cut off by smoke invading her lungs. She and Sirius dropped to the ground: the younger of the two had begun to shake and contort violently. Sirius squinted to see a man army crawling in the embers towards the witch, dragging an unconscious figure behind him. 

“Fuck, Padfoot!”  James cried, letting go of the man behind him and shaking Luna’s now still form. Sirius crawled to meet them. 

“Rennervate,” James cast the spell, wand waving over the witches body. Luna gasped for air and sat up.

“We gotta go!” James said, helping her to stand, elbow covering the lower half of his face. 

“What about Marlene?” 

“NOW! We gotta go now! Help me!” James said, throwing an arm of the unconscious man over Luna’s shoulder. 

Luna and Sirius looked to the person the witch and James were struggling to support. It was a war torn man who had chunks of his face missing. Blood spewed down his neck; its source was a thick shard of glass protruding from his left eye. 

Sirius clenched his eyes shut and ignored his lurching stomach as he grabbed the wisp that appeared before him. 

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When Sirius’ feet hit the ground, he immediately began sprinting through the darkness. Autumn leaves sloshed under his feet, the earth slick with rain and mulch. He could see Luna’s blonde hair swaying several paces of him; she too was running, though Sirius was the one who knew why. They came to an iron fence, the gate ajar. Ahead, Godric’s Hollow was still smouldering. 

“Fuck!” Luna cried, increasing her speed. She ran inside, but Sirius did not follow. This was one memory he had lived through enough times. He turned his back on the Potter’s home with tears spilling from his grey eyes, silently begging for a wisp to take him away. From the ruins, a wail- almost inhuman- cried out in anguish. The red light appeared before Sirius Black once more.

 It was welcomed with shaking hands. 

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Sirius hurriedly wiped away the wetness stinging his cheeks. When he exhaled to regain his composure his breath could be seen. Dread climbed up his spine. 

They were in a cell, if you could call it that. There was barely enough room to crouch on the frigid cement floor. He could hear Luna’s stomach growling from where he sat beside her. His wrists and ankles began to ache with the memory of the chains he knew were on her now. He breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm himself, a decision he regretted immediately. It smelt like piss. And vomit. And rotting flesh. 

“How far along is this?” Luna muttered. She peered at him from behind matted hair; her right eye was swollen shut. 

“Wha-me?” Sirius replied, looking between the witch and the barred window 

“How long?” She repeated 

He thought hard, trying to recall the reason his eye-and now Luna’s- had been swollen. 

“Let’s see...I think I was tired of starving half to death and gave a guard a piece of my mind. Hit me with his baton...so this would be year two, nearly three.” 

The witch started at his statement, curling into a tight ball as if to hold herself together. Her quickened breath became audible and tears overtook her owl-like eyes. 

“I can’t do Azkaban all at once,” Luna said, her voice cracking, “Get me out. Get us out. Now Sirius!” 

“Luna-“ Her sudden change of tone there Sirius for a loop; he was unsure of what to do. He would have thought her unshakeable before now.

“There’s no wisp! They’ve been coming at the end of the memories. This one didn’t even have a beginning, we just showed up!”

“I’ve been here every. Single. Second!” Luna cried, her voice breaking, “You may have gotten a break, but someone had to be there to relieve you. Get us out now!”

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Hermione tiptoed back into the study, dinner tray in hand. It was nearly three am, making it twelve hours since Luna and Sirius had ventured into the wizard’s mind. In that time, Ron had not left his wife’s side, instead laying her in one of the transformed infirmary beds and tending to her. He kept busy, smoothing her hair or holding her hand while working on arrest reports. Hermione had tried to talk with him, distract him, get him to do anything else to no avail. An hour ago she called for Tooley and asked for his assistance in preparing a meal. It was roast beef and potatoes with blanched string beans she carried with her now. Ron perked up when she entered, the redness in his tired eyes spilling onto his cheeks

“Thanks Hermione,” He said, mouth watering, “Smells wonderful.”

“That’s because I had help,” she replied modestly. 

She waved her wand, dishes plating themselves and landing gracefully in their laps. Ron forked down his food, not noticing her pointed frown. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a meal together,” she said between dignified bites, “I’d forgotten the experience.”

“Una sent ind,” Ron replied around a mouthful.

Hermione waited, her eyebrows raised.

“Luna doesn’t mind,” he repeated once he had finished his plate. “She’s normally hurrying as much as I am. Or takes her meals out to the grounds,” he continued, plopping a heaping helping of potatoes onto his plate. 

“I don’t know how many of the creatures she talks about are real, but we certainly have the space for her to find the ones that are.” 

“She’s changed a bit since school,” Hermione said, summoning two flutes of pumpkin juice. “She seems more grounded.”

Ron shrugged, gulping down his drink.

“I don’t think she was ever more eccentric than dad, we were just too young to realize it,” He smacked his lips and looked to Hermione, who wordlessly refilled his glass. 

“I’ll tell you what though, she’s always been this perceptive. Bloody brilliant, just in her own way,” he smiled at his sleeping wife and set his glass down on the side table next to him. 

“I’m ruddy lucky Harry brought the pair of us to Ginny’s matches. Might’ve missed her completely otherwise.”

“She’s helped a lot of people,” Hermione said with a smile, “A lot of lives are going to change because of what she’s doing.” 

“They’ve been at it a while,” Ron said frowning after a glance at his watch, “Harry didn’t take much longer than this, I don't think.”

“I know you’re on mornings right now. I can stay up with them if you want to get some sleep before work,” Hermione offered.

“You have been with her this whole time,” she added at his hesitation.

Ron stood, stretching his arms with a dragon-like yawn. “I’ll take you up on it. Wake me when they’re done, if you would.” 

“Of course.” 

“Night ‘Mione”

“Goodnight Ronald.”

At his departure Hermione took her place between Luna and Sirius’ beds, slipping her shoes off and propping her feet on Sirius’ pillow with a smirk. She pulled a book from her small beaded bag, a thick biography Ginny had gifted to her titled Witches in the Wizengamot: A Look at Britain’s Finest and reclined further into her seat. 

She read leasurally, glancing up from the pages to check on her charges every so often. It was several hours later when a sudden gasp for air startled her and sent her novel flying to the opposite end of the mirrored room. 

Sirius had turned sheet white, eyes open but vacant. He had grabbed her leg tightly, his nails digging into her skin so deeply she was certain they'd leave marks. His mouth hung open and a gutteral sound escaped from it; he seemed to be choking on his own tongue. It was when Hermione turned to look at Luna her face drained of color to match Sirius’. 

The blonde witch laid perfectly still, but her face was contorted, perfectly mirroring Sirius’ own, except for a thick red liquid coming from her mouth. 

Between her legs, a pool of blood seeped through the bedding and dripped onto the floor.

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