The Lewis House 93 страница

He stood on all fours and began to run towards the guard station, but skidded to a halt when another man, on a broom, swooped in to land.

"Jeremy!" said the young wizard, relief evident in his voice. "Expecto Patronum!" And with that, the wizard finally made a Patronus strong enough to drive the Dementors back inside.

"Thought you could use the help, Steve," said Jeremy. "Go and grab some lunch – I'll look after things until you get back."

"I had it under control," mumbled Steve. He trudged across the rocks, towards the place where he'd stashed his broomstick, and gave a sudden scream of fright.

Jeremy ran across the rocks to where Steve was standing and Padfoot used the opportunity to position himself beside the window to the guardhouse. He'd climb through it as soon as there was an opportunity.

"It's a bone!"

"It's not a bone, you idiot – it's a shell."

"Looks like a bone to me. Isn't it true that they didn't bury the prisoners when they died – just threw them into the water? My Uncle Sidney came out here on official business once, and said he saw them doing it."

"Your uncle Sidney? That's a girl's name!"

"No it's not!"

"It is. And haven't you explored the place at all? There's a graveyard to the north - some of the prisoners were buried right here. I expect it depended on who they were."

Padfoot could smell something rotting from inside the tiny building. He didn't want to transform. But if he was going to try this spell, now was the time.

As the two guards continued to banter, Padfoot transformed. Sirius stretched his back and felt suddenly very exposed. He was a man, and he was on this shore for the first time in… almost six years. Not even half the time he'd spent here. The fact that he wasn't in danger of being kept here for the rest of his life did very little to relieve the bizarre, irrational panic that seized his heart. Azkaban. He could smell it - taste it. He had come up here several times since last summer, but he had always stayed on the shore, near the dragon camp. He had never come back to the prison. Had he been mad to think that he could stand it? His whole body hurt, and his brain threatened to sink under some terrible, invisible weight. Forgetting what he had come for, Sirius stood paralyzed for several seconds, unable to control his fear.

But he couldn't let it get to him - he couldn't. He was here to destroy the Dementors for good and for all, to rid the world of them. To spare Harry the pain of being near them. But more than that - more than that - he was here to obliterate them so that he would know, in the pit of his soul, that they would never find him again. Never keep him cold and haunted and shivering in agony in the corner of a cell, unable to fight, unable to concentrate. He wanted them gone. Dead. Forever. He had never realized the depths of his desire, but stepping foot on this god-forsaken shore brought his fury to life. His fury and his terror, and his loss. His unbearable, unsalvageable loss.

If magic was truly a manifestation of will, as Dumbledore had told him many times, then this was going to work.

He didn't dare look towards the sky, where the dragons were circling; Harry might recognize his face. If the riders noticed his hood from above, he wanted them to think he was a Dementor. Grasping his wand in one hand, Sirius pushed the window open with his other. Paint crumbled from the rotting wood into his hand, and he brushed it off on his robes. His head started to pound. He could feel them now. He knew too much about the way they worked - he knew that they could sense him. Knew that they wanted what he could give them. He stood frozen to the ground, already paralyzed by their presence.

Fight it. You've fought it before.

But it was impossible to stop the shadows of the past. They crept forward from the corners where he so carefully kept them, spilling from the tight, dark places at the back of his mind and making pictures in his consciousness. Lily and James. Hagrid. Peter. The sounds of maddened prisoners all around him, wailing like infants, begging for their freedom. For relief.

You are not a prisoner any longer.

It didn't matter. The Dementors had a hold on him so deep that he was overwhelmed by their proximity; he leaned against the outside of the guard hut and groaned.

"If you're going to be sick, Black, then do it in the other direction." Snape's voice had been not-at-all comforting as Sirius had bent over, feeling like he might retch on the silent Hogwarts lawns. "I suppose that being trusted with a duty of this magnitude makes you nauseated."

"I'll tell you what makes me nauseated," Sirius had rasped, balancing his hands on his knees and trying not to vomit. He couldn't believe that Minerva had partnered him with Snape to guard the castle perimeter, while Remus had been sent with Arthur towards the Forbidden Forest. It had been the day of Harry's commencement - Voldemort's final opportunity to fulfill his promise that he would kill him at Hogwarts before he left school - and every member of the Order had prepared to be summoned at the slightest disturbance. The only disturbance Sirius felt had been physical… but the sensations had been disturbingly familiar.

"I'm not ill, I -" Sirius had stopped and his stomach had hitched. He had heaved once, but nothing had come out.

"Charming." Snape had taken several steps away in obvious distaste. "She should have paired me with the werewolf. You're clearly going to be useless."

"I'm dizzy."

"My sympathies."

Sirius had stood up and glared at him, ignoring the pain in his gut. "Look, you stupid bastard, I'm not ill. I have a… strong feeling…” His throat had gone dry and he had fought for balance. "Dementors," he had finally said. "Nearby."

Snape had pulled his wand and peered down the lawns, towards the gates. "They're here then," he said softly. He did not look afraid. "I wondered if he would make good on his word to do it here."

"He's not going to do anything here," Sirius had said vehemently, trying to ignore the horrible, clammy feeling that had settled on his skin.

"Oh, but he is." A cold smile had flickered across Snape's hook-nosed face. "Win or lose, there will be… significant damage." He had looked almost satisfied, and his fingers had clenched more tightly around his wand. "You are certain you sense the Dementors?"

Sirius forced himself into the present. He sensed the Dementors here and now, and if he didn't keep his wits about him, they would take him by surprise. Twelve years had practiced him in the art of keeping sane by clinging to one thought - one truth - and he had to do it now. Had to find something to wrap his consciousness around. For years it had been his innocence, and then, at the end, he had narrowed his mind to think only of Peter. Peter and Harry. The desire to destroy Peter and protect Harry. For months he had repeated one mantra, and that focus, however mad it had been, had saved him from sinking into oblivion.

"He's at Hogwarts," Sirius whispered now - any thought to get his strength back - and his mouth moved effortlessly around the familiar words. "He's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts…" A strange sort of relief came almost at once; protecting Harry was the right thought. Keeping his mind on Harry would make this possible - Sirius concentrated his energy on that. He was here for Harry. This was his duty. To test this spell, to prove that it was ready for use so that the Ministry would use it, and to end the half-lives of the creatures who kept Harry from beginning his life. James and Lily had given their lives to ensure their son's survival, but survival wasn't good enough. They would have wanted him to live.

Quickly, before he could lose his energy, Sirius went over the spell in his head and conjured the map in his brain. It will only take a minute, he reminded himself. If he cast the spell quickly, then he wouldn't have to suffer long.

Several yards away on the rocks, two guards continued to argue about shells and bones on the Azkaban shore. They did not notice when Sirius Black climbed through the window and disappeared into the guard station.

*

Harry's stomach grumbled and he reached into his pocket for the cheese sandwich he'd made that morning. He finished it in three mouthfuls and reached into his other pocket for the bag of pumpkin crisps. Just one more hour, he reminded himself, yawning. His body seemed to be full of cement; he wanted nothing more than to slump back in his harness and pass out. But he could hold his eyes open for one more hour.

Another Dementor came gliding forth from the direction of Joe's skyscape, but Joe was over by Mick, helping him with the throng of Dementors who had decided to take advantage of the guards' shift change. Harry sent Norbert into a dive towards the Dementor, glad that there was only one. It was odd though - Dementors didn't usually come through the doors near the guard station - and upon closer inspection, Harry realized that it wasn't the only one, after all. There were several others hovering along the shore, their hoods turned towards the guard station. They were not moving towards the water, however, and Harry was grateful for that. He swooped closer to the one that was escaping and gathered his strength for another Patronus.

Norbert's energy alone was enough to send the Dementor gliding backwards to he guard station. Harry didn't even have to raise his wand. Norbert gave a mighty snort, as if he knew that he had done something right, and Harry had to smile through his exhaustion. He thought he was probably as fond of Norbert as Hagrid had been, and he was grateful to Ginny for restoring his natural personality. The Healing had made an amazing difference. She really was amazing.

Harry reached again for the letter in his pocket, both sick and excited at the idea of telling her so. More sick than excited. He knew he couldn't. Yet.

But he suddenly had the energy for another Patronus, and so he picked up his Omnioculars and scanned the prison shore, unsettled by what he saw. Dozens more Dementors had come to at the doors and windows of the prison, all of them facing the guard station. Harry wondered if they were up to something - if they were planning some kind of massive escape, or if they even knew enough to plan a thing like that. He took note of two guards already on shore; they stood together on an outcropping of rocks.

It was quiet and calm at the moment, but that meant nothing. Trusting his instincts, Harry urged Norbert to go lower, and he tapped his wand to his throat. "Keep an eye out," he called to the guards, whose heads snapped up. At the sight of him, they both looked awed, and Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They'd worked here for a week. He wished they'd stop looking at him like that.

"No problem, Mr. Potter," one of them called back, but the sound was nearly carried away in the wind. He turned red and tapped his own throat with his wand. "NO PROBLEM, MR. POTTER," he repeated hastily.

Harry shrugged and nodded, not sure how to respond. He turned his attention back to the Dementors and narrowed his eyes. More of them had already gathered, and they were pressing closer to the guard station. Something was happening. He only hoped that he would be able to sort it out before it went out of control. "Mick," he said, after he activated the Communication Charm. "Joe. Come here for a minute, there's something wrong."

*

It was dim in the guard station; the only light filtered in through the window, and lit the room in a dusty shaft. It was almost like sunset, although it was only three o'clock. Sirius backed against the wall and pulled his wand, squinting into the dark corners of the room until he saw them. His heart began to race.

"I sense them." Sirius had marshaled every scrap of his self-control. If it was going to happen now - if the Dark army had finally chosen their moment - then there was no room for weakness. They could not succumb - he could not succumb. Not now that they had all come this far.

"Is that… Weasley?" Snape sounded honestly bewildered. It was a tone Sirius had never heard from Snape; he had followed Snape's gaze down towards the gates and tensed with apprehension.

Even from that far away, the Weasley hair had been hard to miss. It had been too short to be Ginny's hair and the person had been taller than Ginny - it had to be Ron. But why had he strayed so far from the castle? What had brought him to the gates?

"He was told to stay with Potter." Snape had glanced up at the windows of the Great Hall, and real anxiety had creased his face. "Foolish. Always foolish…" He had begun to stride away from the castle's perimeter and towards the gates, a look of determination on his face. "Alert the Order. Now."

Sirius hadn't needed the direction; he had already been muttering the spell that would bring the Order to Hogwarts, and he strode with Snape towards the bottom of the lawns, preparing himself for whatever was coming. The closer they had come to the gates, the more acutely aware Sirius became of the Dementors - there must have been an army of them - though it had been June, the air had been damp and chilled, and he had felt disturbingly at home in it. Azkaban.

Azkaban was in the present - he was here. He had to concentrate. There was no time for the shadows of the past, but they had suddenly gained abnormal strength and power, as horror always did when Dementors were near. Sirius panted and worked to clear his mind. He pressed his back to the wall and fought down the bile that threatened to rise.

Three Dementors. In front of him. Sirius's vision began to blur - he thought he had prepared, but the closeness of the creatures was more than he could bear. He wiped his forehead - his sweat was cold - and an old, inescapable anguish washed over him. He knew that he only had seconds to work.

The Dementors stayed in their corner, the dark sockets of their hoods turned towards Sirius as if they were studying him. Perhaps they were so ill that they had truly confused him for another Dementor.

Taking advantage of the pause, Sirius raised his wand. The Dementors turned their enormous cloaked heads towards one another in silent communication.

"Do I know you?" Sirius taunted, his voice very low. "Were either of you good enough to be guards in my section? I was a high security prisoner."

The Dementors remained still. And then, slowly, very slowly, one of them began to lift his arm. A bony, gray, slimy hand protruded from the sleeve of the decaying robes and pointed straight at Sirius.

The floor seemed to disappear from under him and he could feel tears falling from his eyes.

A cacophony of voices from very far away spiraled closer and closer to Sirius. It came from inside his head and from the main gates of Hogwarts. He had transformed and bounded closer to the gates, just in time to see them fly open in an explosion of horrible green light. The Dark army had broken through.

"NO!" Sirius shouted. He steadied his wand. "Expulso Animus!" The guardhouse filled with a bright, bright light.

The lights were coming from the Dementors. Spots appeared on their robes as bright pinpricks of light emanated from them and shot towards the ceiling. The dots grew less distinct as everything began to blur together and concentrate around the Dementors, and a rush of unnatural warmth filled the room. For a moment, Sirius was exhilarated. The spell must be working. The souls they had swallowed were bursting free, and the Dementors would be left without life. And if it worked on these Dementors then it would work on the rest of them - maniacal laughter erupted from Sirius's throat and he watched in furious satisfaction as the lights began to die. As the Dementors died. And he had killed them, he had destroyed them. He, who had more right than anyone to make them suffer.

For one last moment, the light was so bright that the Dementors looked almost like statues, and then the light exploded towards the walls and ceiling, clearing a dark space around the three hooded figures that still stood, their hoods focused on Sirius.

Sirius held his breath and waited, not sure what he was waiting for. Would they collapse, would they vanish, would their robes crumble into dust?

But none of those things happened; in fact, nothing happened at all. Sirius wondered if the Dementors were frozen, or petrified - perhaps he had merely paralyzed them. That would be a beginning.

And then, from the darkness within the nimbus of light, there was a low, rattling moan. The Dementors tilted up their faceless hoods and, to Sirius's horror, the life force he had expelled from them began to rush back into their rotting mouths, draining the room of all light, filling them again with what they needed to survive.

It hadn't worked. The spell was not strong enough. Sirius began to shake - they had survived and he was trapped here with them. He had to Disapparate - but no, of course. He couldn't Disapparate from here. He gave a breathless, terrified laugh, and quickly launched himself towards the window, but gave a cry of terror and backed away from it at once. Through it, he could see a crowd of hooded creatures, waiting for him - starving for him - sucking the remaining light from the room and stealing it from their fellows.

They'd Kiss him next.

Sirius turned back on the three Dementors, trembling from head to foot, and could not stop the moan that broke from him. "No…" he whimpered, and his wand hand faltered and dropped to his side. He had been such a fool. "Nooooo…" He had to defend himself - had to try a Patronus at least - but he could not piece together a single thought. He could do nothing but watch in panic and abhorrence as the Dementors began to glide towards him, reaching up their bony hands to push back their hoods.

*

Harry hovered above the shoreline, craning to see over Norbert's enormous back so that he could watch the Dementors. Their strange behavior chilled him; they were crowded around the hut, and Harry could have sworn that he had just seen a light pour through the window to which their hoods were pressed.

"What's happening, Potter?" Mick shouted. He and Joe had steered around to this side of the island, leaving their sections to the guards.

"I don't know..."

Harry's voice trailed off. From below, he heard a sickening sort of wail. He had never heard a Dementor make a noise like that, and a cold stab in his gut told him that it wasn't a Dementor at all. It was… it had to be a human. One of the guards, perhaps - had the Dementors dragged one of them into the prison, in order to feed on him? The thought made Harry ill. He watched as the two guards on the rocky outcropping turned and ran towards the guard station - apparently they had heard the noise - but they stopped dead when they saw how many Dementors they were up against.

"Effractum Domus!" It was a man's voice, hoarse and panicked, coming from within the guard station. "Corruo Moenia! Corruo Domus!"

"EMERGENCY," Harry shouted, activating the Communication Charm so that everyone at the dragon camp would hear him. "EVERYONE OUT HERE NOW!"

"What's happening, Harry?" Charlie's voice was immediately in his ear, but Harry couldn't answer - he had to concentrate.

There was a terrible noise, and the roof came flying off of the guard station. It shot into the air and over Harry's head, landing in the choppy waters behind him. Weak beams of light trailed out of the hut as its four walls collapsed. It only took a moment for the dust to settle. The floor to the guard station was all that remained, and it was bathed in a sickly green light. The guards on the ground inched closer to it, and Harry pulled on his Omnioculars again.

There were four Dementors in the guard station. One of them crouched low to the ground, covering its head with its sleeves while the other three made a circle around it. Dozens of others began to glide over the ruins of the shattered station walls, closer to the surrounded Dementor. From a healthy distance, the two guards began to shoot Patronuses at the Dementors, but they seemed to have little effect.

Harry couldn't understand it. There was no man after all - were the Dementors trying to Kiss one of their own? Were they capable of spells - of speech, when threatened? Was the rumor that they'd start eating each other going to come true? Harry felt a glimmer of hope at the thought that the Dementors might actually be on the way to destroying themselves - and then the crouching Dementor fell backwards.

It wasn't a Dementor at all. It was a man. A man with dark hair and pale skin, whom Harry had seen like this before. Just like this. His face was slack. He was unconscious. And they were all around him.

Harry thought he was going to be sick.

Without a second thought, he unfastened his harness, grabbed his Firebolt, and sped towards his godfather.

*

Sirius could not fight. He lay motionless, watching the worst moments of his life flash like a Kinolia, making pictures against his closed eyelids. Remus, staring at him in unconcealed disgust when he discovered who had let Snape into the Whomping Willow. James's face, pale and wide-eyed, lying amongst the ruins of his house. Lily, collapsed on the floor of the nursery. Peter's empty-eyed leer in the middle of the Muggle street where Sirius had given away his freedom. The gates of Hogwarts bursting open to admit a host of evil - Ron Weasley's obvious hair disappearing into the onrush of Death Eaters, giants, Dementors…

"Ron!" Sirius had shouted, but the noise was too great and the army too dense. Knowing that he had little time - if any - to get to Ron, Sirius had transformed, ready to bound in among the Dark wizards.

It had been too late. His way through had been blocked, and members of the Order had already advanced from the Forbidden Forest and begun to fight, making it impossible for Padfoot to see what was happening beyond them. He could tell that many of the Order were having problems with the fact that so many of the enemy appeared to be students - but the students were vicious… and where had they all come from so quickly? Still panicked for Ron's sake, Padfoot had turned and bounded up the lawns between them, amazed at how many seemed to have turned on their fellows. Students had been leading students, who had appeared paralyzed, out of Hogwarts in long lines. The frozen students' eyes were wide and some of the younger ones were sobbing silently - Padfoot had searched among them for Harry, and seen him nowhere.

As he had continued to run towards the castle's entrance, Death Eaters had swarmed around the perimeter of the castle and raised their wands. As Padfoot had looked on, unable to prevent it, the ceiling of the Great Hall had started to collapse. The ground beneath his paws had begun to shake.

And then there had been a terrible crashing noise, followed by a high-pitched scream of suffering.

Don't let it be Harry…

But it couldn't have been Harry, for moments later, Harry had appeared in the entrance doors, along with Hermione and Ron -

Ron. Ron had flung the doors open. Padfoot had stared for a moment at the shock of red hair, unable to comprehend it, and then, knowing that he needed all his faculties, he had transformed again into Sirius and pulled his wand. If Ron was with Harry, then who had the Dark Army absorbed, down at the gates?

It hadn't mattered. The war - possibly the end of the war - had begun around him, and everywhere his help was needed; Sirius turned to free the first frozen student he saw, but before he could take a step his legs locked and he toppled forward.

"Haven't seen you since Azkaban, Black." Lestrange had stood over him, laughing.

Azkaban. That's where I am now. Sirius tried to force himself to open his eyes, but he couldn't. Something clammy and revolting brushed his cheek. It was over. His soul belonged to them.

"And I haven't seen you since Percy Weasley's murder, Lestrange." Snape had appeared behind him, and Sirius had never been so glad to see his sallow face. He held the tip of his wand to Lestrange's throat, and if Sirius hadn't known better, he would have thought that Snape was smiling.

"A pity we won't be spending more time together in the future, Severus." Lestrange seemed to have forgotten about Sirius for the moment. Sirius had struggled to sit up on the lawn, but a hex kept him still, and Snape must have seen it.

In a flash, Snape had taken his wand from Lestrange's neck and muttered a counter-curse, but before he could regain his advantage, Lestrange whirled on him, wand out, and threw a curse so violent that Sirius feared for Snape's life.

"Lacero!"

Snape had deflected it and stepped aside, his breath coming quickly, his black eyes alight. "A valiant effort," he had hissed, and beckoned for Lestrange to try again. "What else?"

Sirius had staggered to his feet and pulled his wand, but it was too late. Lestrange's mouth had already been open in a curse.

"Minuo!"

Snape had already been laughing as the curse had flown back on Lestrange, who had begun to bleed from the nose and ears. "Have we had this duel? I seem to remember… ah yes. The day we were Marked." Snape had leered. "But you must have learned something since then. Or didn't they teach you new tricks in Azkaban?"

Lestrange had made a noise of animal fury, his dank hair swinging across his forehead, blood running in rivulets past his mouth and dripping onto his robes. "Excorio!" he had howled.

Snape had sent up a shield with such efficiency that Sirius had been grudgingly impressed, and again the curse had deflected on Lestrange, whose skin had begun to peel at his hairline, exposing the red flesh beneath, as if his whole face was a mask about to be removed. But he had raised his wand again, his eyes burning.

Sirius had held up his wand to help Snape block whatever else was coming, but Snape had only shaken his head.

"Go, Black. I have things to discuss with my old friend."

And, as the battle had raged around them, Snape and Lestrange had continued to duel, backing each other down the lawns and back towards the gates, locked in combat. Sirius had known that he had to move - to help the others - to join the fight - but he had watched Snape go until he could not see him. Until the chalk-white, insufferably arrogant face had disappeared into the raging ring of Dark wizards at the Hogwarts gates.

Until he had heard Harry calling for him… calling his name…

*

"Sirius! SIRIUS!" Harry shouted from his broomstick, but Sirius did not stir. "Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! EXPECTO PATRONUM!” He soared down behind the Dementors. Ignoring the danger, he plunged in between them, but they seemed impervious to his spells; Harry had never seen the Dementors so resistant – they must have been so starved for human emotion that they were refusing to disperse.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04