Lost
Lost
It was a bright red beam that burst from Dear Cousin Bellatrix’s wand. Bright and brighter, coming larger and larger at me as I laughed. “You can do better than that!” I’d taunted, really hoping she’d lose her temper. Then she’d make some stupid move and I could disarm her. Great! One less Death-Eater to battle. One less enemy to stop us rescuing my Godson, Harry, and his friends from the trap they’d been lured into at the Ministry of Magic. One step closer to bring them back safe from the depths of the Department of Mysteries.
I just never thought somehow that her aim would be so good.
It was the strangest feeling when her spell hit. I didn’t hear her words, but suddenly there was something hot pushing against my chest. The sensation of being drained. Not like dementors sucking the joy out of me. More like the connection between thought and movement was unraveling. Even as I thought about leaping toward Bella and raising my wand, I saw my fingers uncurling from it. As it dropped, turning end over end, the floor rose up to meet it. My leap became a slow, spiraling tumble. From behind me, there was the brush of fabric, first against my shoulders, then the back of my head, and finally my face, as I fell through a curtained archway…
I didn’t feel myself hit the ground.
“Sirius!” I could hear a voice screaming my name. “Sirius!”
“Harry!” Was my answer a whisper or a shout?
“Sirius…!” Even as I heard my name drawn out on a desperate rising wail, the sound of it was fading, leaving only a sort of spent, black stillness.
I blinked. Once, twice. The black washed to grey and took on shapes without names.
That was some powerful curse old Bella’d flung at me! Or maybe I’d hit my head when I fell, because I couldn’t make sense of anything. I knew I was lying still, but the world around me kept doing that slow, spiraling roll.
Where ever I was, it sure didn’t look like the Ministry of Magic. Instead of a stone or carpeted floor, I felt something like gravel against my cheek and an urge to vomit rumbling up from my stomach. The one thing I knew was that my Godson was calling for me- shouting my name though I couldn’t hear it for the roaring in my ears. I gathered myself to get up and go to him, but nothing happened.
An age, maybe two, I lay there, eyes pressed shut while I pulled in cautious, painful breaths and waited for the nausea to give up and go away.
What had happened to me? There had been a light, a red flash of light and then…?
And then… I was…
Here.
I opened my eyes again. A large barrel was towering above me. A barrel and a scatter of wooden crates. From somewhere beyond my feet there was singing. Loud, off key, and with some of the voices fumbling over the words. Drunken singing. Sounded a bit like my old friend James after a butter beer or three…
The singing grew louder as a door banged open with a spill of lantern-light over what looked like cobblestones. Shadows splashed across the ground and then disappeared as the door banged shut with a loud clatter of wood. Two voices detached themselves from the others, wobbling and weaving through another verse of their song before dropping into silence. Gravel crunched close to my head and I found myself staring at a pair of scuffed shoes caked with dried mud.
“Look here, Joe! Bloke’s so drunk he passed right out, here in t’alley!”
“No, not drunk…” Words formed but no sound came, just another wave of nausea.
“’t’swhat happens to ya, Nick, when ya spend all your pay on gin.”
Gin? A Muggle drink, wasn’t it?
“Maybe he didn’t spend quite all of it!” The first voice hiccupped with laughter.
“Whatcha mean?”
“Watch carefully, Joseph, me son, ‘n’ I’ll teach you well.”
Hands pulled on my arm. “No, wait! Listen to me… I’m… not drunk…”
The words were louder, clearer in my mind, but still no sound of them came out.
“’e might still have just enough coins left over here to buy us another round or two, that’s what I mean…”
I was flipped onto my back and greeted by two stubbly faces staring down at me and a blaze of stars overhead. Quick hands prodded my chest and sides. I groaned at the touch. Oh, Bella, when did you develop such aim? And what a spell to make such an all-over ache! I wanted to stop those painful, groping fingers, but my own hands were too slow and heavy to lift, let alone push them away.
That was sure some curse all right, Cousin…
“Nothing in his pocket here…”
“Odd lookin’ bloke, ain’t he, Nick? Strange clothes he’s wearin’, ain’t they? Like nothing I’ve seen ‘round here before…”
“Stupid foreigner, most likely. Must’ve come in off a boat. Could be a sailor. They’re always getting’ drunk aren’t they? Ah, he’s as broke as an old china jug. C’mon, Joe… What’s say we drop over to old Mike’s place… That bloke still owes me a farthing or two from last week. Maybe we can shake him down for some of that…” The voices grew smaller and further away.
Farthing? Another Muggle word. But the lights, as I slowly turned my head and stared at my surroundings, weren’t the glaring yellow-white of Muggle towns. They were the familiar lantern-gold of Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley.
But those were Muggle words, “gin”, “farthing”…! And what did he mean? “Like nothing I’ve seen round here before…” “Stupid foreigner….”
Where ever I was, it was no safe place. I had to get back to…?
To Harry. He’d called my name- “Sirius!” He was in a big candle lit chamber, right? With my friend Remus, wasn’t he? And Ron and Hermione too? They’d been-
We’d been-
-Been what? Battling Death-Eaters, right? Including Bellatrix, right? So that was why she’d zapped me, right?
Yeah, yeah, it made a certain kind of sense, didn’t it? Except- there had been no stars. I hadn’t been outdoors! So how had I gotten here anyway? Had Bella blasted me out a window or something? Had the rest of them finished up the fight while I was laying around out here in the alley? But wait- Just where had she sailed me off to, anyway? The buildings on either side of me looked all wrong! Not like anything in the neighbourhood of the Ministry of Magic…
Should I try and find my way back there? By the time I got there- especially since I wasn’t sure where it was from here- where ever here was- the battle would surely be over. I could go to my house on Grimmauld Place. Disgusting thought. But no, my family’s old House Elf, Kreacher, would be there, spouting his dark pronouncements. My head hurt too much to put up with his noise. Maybe Remus’s place would be better. Quieter, anyway. He could tell me all that had happened. I could borrow an owl. Send a note to Harry at school… Make sure he’d gotten back there okay, that he was all right. Make sure his friends were too.
But first I should stand up.
Yeah, good idea, Sirius. Once I gained my feet I’d get my wand and apperate back-
Again, I saw my fingers uncurling, my wand tumbling end over end.
A Wizard can apperate without a wand, with a great deal of strength and concentration. Right now I was lacking in both.
Simply getting myself upright took a long, rickety time. I toppled onto the barrel on my first try, knocking my nose and setting it bleeding in a warm flood down my chin. On the third go, I made it to my feet, turned around and sat down quick and heavy on the barrel’s sturdy wooden cover, panting and sweating.
I waited as my breathing slowed, the sweat dried, my nose quit dripping. and a plan took shape. Whether by accident or intent, my cousin had sent me here. I must get well away in case she decided to follow.
So hard to put one thought behind another. They kept tangling round each other, but gradually they took on a sort of rhythm. Almost like a conversation flowing back and forth. Like when I left Azkaban.
Walk to the corner.
Must stand up first.
Take it slow, mate.
Is that you, James?
There was no clear sound of him in the words or the idea or whatever it was. But the thought of my iron-willed old friend encouraged me to my feet. Pressing a steadying hand against the wooden wall, I staggered, rubber legged, to where the alley opened onto a dirt road. It was narrow and winding with lanterns in some windows on either side of it. Letting go the wall, I stepped forward and raised my eyes to some words written on a board hanging on a post.
Read the street sign.
Harrington Street.
Don’t know that one…
Travel on then.
Don’t recognize it… Don’t recognize any Harrington Street.
Follow the road then…
Okay, James. If that’s you, okay, I can do that...
I glanced around. Even with that unfamiliar sign, this place wasn’t crowded enough to be an offshoot of Diagon Alley, and the street was made of dirt, not bricks or cobbles. Great, I was probably in Hogsmeade then, though I still had no clue as to how I’d gotten here. Once I knew for sure where in the village I was, I’d plot a course along the back roads to Remus’s. Then Bellatrix couldn’t find me and zap me again with her wand. And the Ministry of Magic wouldn’t be able to catch me up and send me back to Azkaban Prison…
So, get moving then…
I can do this…
So, do it then, Sirius, I told myself. You’ve stood here long enough planning to plan. Sort the rest of it out as you walk.
Everything seemed so strange here right now, but maybe that wasn’t really so odd. When I’d wandered these roads a year ago, it was always in my dog form. That would change the look of things more than a little bit. I’d’ve been down lower to the ground. Following smells more, shapes and colours less.
That’s it. Get moving. In a minute you’ll figure it out. Can’t be too far to the Three Broomsticks or the Hog’s Head. Even if you can’t go in without a disguise, you’ll get your bearings and start for Remus’s house. There’s time for rest when you get there, and he can tell you about Harry. Let you know he’s all right.
Good plan. Unless… Even better, I might see Hagrid first. (Not hard to miss is our Hagrid!) He could get a message to Harry for me, better yet, take me back to his cottage on the Hogwarts grounds. Let me sit and gather up my strength while he goes to bring Harry to me.
I pulled a careful breath through the ache in my chest and stared along the street.
Shadows jittered and swayed as the wind tousled the trees on the edge of the street. I moved from one sturdy trunk to the next, leaning for a time on each, willing the wobble out of my legs and watching for familiar faces.
It must be very late by now. There were very few people about. Of those I saw, there was nobody I knew. And where was Owl’s Roost Way or Copper Cauldron Crossroads? Hogsmeade wasn’t a large village. My progress was unbelievably slow, but I should’ve reached one of those places by now! Where was Zonko’s Joke Shop or the Three Broomsticks? Even the desolate old Shrieking Shack would be a welcome sight right now. Might even be able to find my way in there. Have a lie down…
The Muggle words poked into my thoughts again… Strange looking… Foreigner…
I wasn’t really wearing anything all that odd, was I? My robes were a little old and thread-bare. I’d put them on to clear some gnomes out of the back garden at Grimmauld Place before the emergency that summoned us to the Ministry. They might be grubby, with bits of dry leaves from when I’d crawled under a hedge to capture a particularly crafty gnome, but that was hardly odd. Was it the old jeans with one knee coming through that I’d worn beneath them? Could it be the black Harley Davidson T-shirt Harry gave me last Christmas that was strange? Why would that be any odder than the blazing orange Chudley Cannons sweatshirt Ron Weasley liked to wear?
But… Gin…? And farthing…? They weren’t Wizarding words. Had old Bella overshot Hogsmeade and zapped me all the way to a Muggle town? If so, it was certainly like none I’d seen before. Not that two years of Muggle Studies and a few trips round London with James made me any sort of expert on what to expect. Still, there was something about the place that seemed as odd to me as I had been to those men in the alley. What was it? If I could figure that out, I’d be halfway back to my Godson again.
No ideas came. No answers to the puzzle. Only a sizzling ache in my head and the knowing that I didn’t have all the pieces to solve it. Worse than that was realizing that, I wasn’t holding onto the pieces I’d been sure I had a few streets back. What exactly was it I was searching for anyway as I walked through the darkness toward one lantern light, then the next and the next? Why did going forward seem like such a big deal when the brains inside of my head and the area around the pit of my stomach both felt like they were sloshing back and forth with every dragging step and my feet were getting so, so heavy? When it was so much work to move across ground that wanted to tip and sway?
Maybe it was because the night was growing colder and I wanted to find a place where I could get indoors. I shivered and pulled my robes tighter around me as the first raindrops began to fall, turning my hair to sodden streamers and running cold down the back of my neck. Maybe it was as simple as knowing it wasn’t wise to lie down in the middle of the road…
There was a hedge to my left. Tall. Full of crickets, singing louder, louder, louder amid the cold, spattering drops. One step, two, three, and I was sinking down into its shadows, burrowing into a dry spot beneath its leafy branches, on ground that swayed and soft grass that was wet but still gave me welcome. The chirr and thrum of the crickets shimmered in my ears, even as I knew they’d gone silent at my approach. The sound swelled, filling my head and drowning out the last of my questions.
Forget the Three Broomsticks. Forget Zonko’s and the Shrieking Shack. Forget the next lantern or the next or whatever I think they might lead me to…
Too tired to think about it now…
I’ll figure it…
All out…
Tomorrow…
I thought, and had just the presence of mind to change into my dog form before the darkness took me…