Shades of Black: Part III
Title: Shades of Black
Rating: PG / PG-13
Length: Chaptered (Short Story Collection), WIP
Pairings: James/Lily, Sirius/Lily, Sirius/OC
Era: Multiple Eras (mainly Marauder Era and Vold-War I)
Summary: They were doing it together, he said. And he helped out a friend, only to have it blow up in his face years later. [A drabble written to demonstrate ‘irony’.]
~*~
A red orb was just slinking below the horizon as sunset began, the sun’s rays covering the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in their light. Students were slowly making their way back inside the castle, many heading for the Great Hall for dinner before retiring to their own common rooms. Ravenclaws climbed the staircases to their tower, as did the Gryffindors, while the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs headed to the dungeons and kitchen corridor respectively, where either homework or warm beds awaited them for the night.
But not all of the members of Gryffindor House had dined with the rest of their peers in the large hall, furnished as it was with five long, wooden tables piled high with foods of every imagining and drinks to quench any thirst. No, a few members of Godric’s House had skipped the meal to - dare such a thing even be thought - study.
Several large and worn books lay scattered on the four beds in the Gryffindor fifth year boys’ dormitory, all open to different points - some in the beginning, some in the middle, and some at the end. Pages were marked with scraps of parchment so as to prevent the readers from losing their place; other books were held open with other heavy tomes to pages filled with certain diagrams that detailed the numerous spells revealed and instructed within. Many paragraphs of the scholarly works were nearly unreadable, even, due to handwritten notes (in at least three different handwritings) marking up the margins of the text.
“All right, just try it again.”
Three boys stood (or sat) in the dormitory, their attention focussed intently on their work. One of the boys sat on the least cluttered bed, his back leaning up against the wall, and flipped continuously through pages of one of the heavy books - the black-leather covered, golden-embroidery titled one. His hazel eyes left the page for a brief moment to look at another of the boys - a blonde-haired, slightly bigger boy, who stood in the cleared centre of the dormitory, and who had his boyish face squeezed up tightly in concentration.
Such was the scene for a few moments: A scrunched up face; lips moving as if muttering or pleading; slow, calm breaths. Only the heavy tick … tick … tick … of a large clock in the room broke the silence that had come over the dormitory’s occupants. But it was destroyed more completely when the blonde boy hesitantly opened his eyes, almost like he was afraid of what might have occurred while he had them closed, and spoke.
“It didn’t work,” he said.
The third boy sighed from where he was leaning against one of the bedposts, his arms crossed over his chest. “No, it didn’t,” he muttered, running a hand through his black hair as he turned to face the first boy. “James, what else does that book say?”
James flipped through more of the thick pages filled with diagrams and vague, circular definitions and explanations, squinting through his glasses in an effort to read the miniscule print as he did so. “Nothing much,” he said, exhaling his own sigh. “All I can find about the transformation is this one chapter, and it just says - and I quote, Sirius, - ‘to look inside your core being, embracing your inner self and pulling all of the magic of your soul. Picture in your inner mind that of the magic swirling around you and through you, and imagine yourself as an animal’.”
A raised eyebrow was the only response Sirius gave to the statement that James had read. “That’s it?” he finally asked, still staring at his friend, who nodded wearily. “How can they call this book ‘An In-Depth Analysis and Study of the Innermost Workings of Advanced Transfiguration’ if that’s it? It sounds more like Divination than Transfiguration with all that ‘inner mind’ talk.”
“I didn’t write the book, Sirius,” muttered James, removing his glasses as he spoke in order to rub his eyes. “But this is the most detailed account of the transformation. The other books weren’t as in-depth as this one, so it has to have the answer -”
“I’m never going to be able to transform.” James’s words were interrupted by the soft voice of the blonde-haired boy, and both Sirius and James turned around to face him. He still stood in the centre of the dormitory. “We’ve been trying to find an answer for two months, and haven’t yet -”
“So? We’ll just keep looking,” said James. “There’s another month to go before the next full moon, so we have time.”
“You’ll transform, Peter,” said Sirius, approaching his friend and grasping him on the shoulder. “We just need to figure out how to make it easier, and the answer’s just bound to become available.”
Peter smiled for a moment at his friend’s reassurance, but the expression soon faded as reality settled over him. “But how?” he asked. “If the answer’s not in one of these books, then it wouldn’t be anywhere, right? Besides, it’s fine. I don’t need to come along; you and James can be with Remus -”
“No,” interrupted Sirius, glaring at Peter as he spoke. “We’re doing this together.” Fire seemed to burn in his eyes, and both James and Peter knew what such a thing meant in Sirius. He was absolutely determined, now. Letting go of Peter’s shoulder, Sirius walked over towards one of the beds - his own - and picked up another book - the one that they had deemed the ‘Slytherin Book’, due to its emerald green cover and title embroidered in thin, silver lines. Taking a seat at the head of the bed and leaning against the wall, he flipped through its pages quickly, turning them at such a speed it seemed almost impossible that he was really reading the words.
Suddenly, Sirius stopped, the book held open to a page near the very end of the tome, and he glanced up at Peter. There was a large smile on his face, and the black-haired teen’s eyes were alight with success. “I think I found the answer,” he said. “Peter, try this …” And he turned the book around so as to let the other two read the passages.
Five minutes later, the three boys had disappeared from the dormitory, only to have a stag, a dog, and a rat take their places.
----
There was nothing odd about that day at first, the only sounds in the crowded street being nothing out of the ordinary. People hurried to work, to school, to shops, to home. Each person was tied up in their own busy lives, and really, what reason did they have to be thinking that today would be different? It was simply the first day of November - nothing odd about that, of course.
Not even the strange people that seemed to be wandering through the cities today attracted much attention. After all, major cities always tended to attract a certain level of eccentric people, and if there happened to be people who wanted to walk around Britain in robes and cloaks, there was nothing terribly wrong with that. It was odd, yes, and citizens may have turned twice to look at the cloaked people more than once, but such things were soon put out of the minds of most.
But people had a way of being attracted to possible confrontation. There must be something about an argument, a fight, that causes people to gather just to watch. And the two, oddly dressed men on that crowded street weren’t exactly pouring forth levels of peace and calmness, and although their words could not be heard, the crowd still sought to pause on the sidewalks and watch.
----
“Why, Peter?” he hissed. His heart hammered in his chest as he glared at the man in front of him. A cool, autumn breeze caused his robes and hair to blow in the wind, but he paid the stray bits of black hair no mind. His fingers were wrapped around the cool, ebony wood of his wand, the tool held at his side but ready to be raised in an instant. Spells and incantations were already swirling through his head, each becoming more destructive and deadly as the seconds ticked by. And each would be a fitting end for the coward in front of him.
But first, he wanted to know. He wanted to hear the traitor admit to his actions, wanted to hear him confess. “Why did you betray them?” he said.
The shorter man’s voice was deathly quiet as he answered, the reply not precisely what his opponent - and former friend - had been expecting. “I didn’t betray them,” he said, his eyes meeting the steel-coloured orbs of the tall figure before him in a show of strength that many would never have attributed to the blonde-haired man. “You did.”
“What?” But the question had barely escaped Sirius's mouth before Peter's next words echoed loudly around the crowded street, filled as it was with spectators and passers-by. And every one of them heard every last word of the blonde man’s exclamation. All seven words in all of their condemning glory.
“Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?”
The words barely registered in Sirius's mind before he felt a large, sudden force of magic explode in the street, sending him flying backwards and falling - hard - on to the cold concrete. The air was instantly knocked out of him, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up, an effort that resulted in failure at first. Sounds of yells and screams rang in his ears, intensifying the pain in his head originally gained from its impact with the street, and the smell of smoke and burning flesh assaulted his nose. Eventually, he succeeded in slowly pulling himself to his knees, several hisses and groans of pain escaping him as his injured body protested the movement.
What Sirius saw, however, made him want to fall right back down and close his eyes. After all, if he shut his eyes, he would soon wake up from the nightmare, right? For that was what the sight before him could only be … A horrible nightmare.
He saw the burning storefronts with their black smoke and orange flames towering upwards towards the sky. He saw the piles of rubble and debris that had gathered on the walkways. He saw the screaming and crying people huddled on the street’s edge, hands clutched over mouths in horror and fingers pointing into the street. He saw the giant crater that had been blown into the solid concrete only a few metres in front of him. He saw the bodies of the dead and injured sprawled around it, blood and dirt covering their frozen or barely-moving forms.
And he saw the single, dark brown rat scuttling away from a tattered cloak, a tattered cloak with a single, bleeding finger lying on top of it.
~*~
That concludes this one.
~Megan
Rating: PG / PG-13
Length: Chaptered (Short Story Collection), WIP
Pairings: James/Lily, Sirius/Lily, Sirius/OC
Era: Multiple Eras (mainly Marauder Era and Vold-War I)
Summary: They were doing it together, he said. And he helped out a friend, only to have it blow up in his face years later. [A drabble written to demonstrate ‘irony’.]
~*~
A red orb was just slinking below the horizon as sunset began, the sun’s rays covering the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in their light. Students were slowly making their way back inside the castle, many heading for the Great Hall for dinner before retiring to their own common rooms. Ravenclaws climbed the staircases to their tower, as did the Gryffindors, while the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs headed to the dungeons and kitchen corridor respectively, where either homework or warm beds awaited them for the night.
But not all of the members of Gryffindor House had dined with the rest of their peers in the large hall, furnished as it was with five long, wooden tables piled high with foods of every imagining and drinks to quench any thirst. No, a few members of Godric’s House had skipped the meal to - dare such a thing even be thought - study.
Several large and worn books lay scattered on the four beds in the Gryffindor fifth year boys’ dormitory, all open to different points - some in the beginning, some in the middle, and some at the end. Pages were marked with scraps of parchment so as to prevent the readers from losing their place; other books were held open with other heavy tomes to pages filled with certain diagrams that detailed the numerous spells revealed and instructed within. Many paragraphs of the scholarly works were nearly unreadable, even, due to handwritten notes (in at least three different handwritings) marking up the margins of the text.
“All right, just try it again.”
Three boys stood (or sat) in the dormitory, their attention focussed intently on their work. One of the boys sat on the least cluttered bed, his back leaning up against the wall, and flipped continuously through pages of one of the heavy books - the black-leather covered, golden-embroidery titled one. His hazel eyes left the page for a brief moment to look at another of the boys - a blonde-haired, slightly bigger boy, who stood in the cleared centre of the dormitory, and who had his boyish face squeezed up tightly in concentration.
Such was the scene for a few moments: A scrunched up face; lips moving as if muttering or pleading; slow, calm breaths. Only the heavy tick … tick … tick … of a large clock in the room broke the silence that had come over the dormitory’s occupants. But it was destroyed more completely when the blonde boy hesitantly opened his eyes, almost like he was afraid of what might have occurred while he had them closed, and spoke.
“It didn’t work,” he said.
The third boy sighed from where he was leaning against one of the bedposts, his arms crossed over his chest. “No, it didn’t,” he muttered, running a hand through his black hair as he turned to face the first boy. “James, what else does that book say?”
James flipped through more of the thick pages filled with diagrams and vague, circular definitions and explanations, squinting through his glasses in an effort to read the miniscule print as he did so. “Nothing much,” he said, exhaling his own sigh. “All I can find about the transformation is this one chapter, and it just says - and I quote, Sirius, - ‘to look inside your core being, embracing your inner self and pulling all of the magic of your soul. Picture in your inner mind that of the magic swirling around you and through you, and imagine yourself as an animal’.”
A raised eyebrow was the only response Sirius gave to the statement that James had read. “That’s it?” he finally asked, still staring at his friend, who nodded wearily. “How can they call this book ‘An In-Depth Analysis and Study of the Innermost Workings of Advanced Transfiguration’ if that’s it? It sounds more like Divination than Transfiguration with all that ‘inner mind’ talk.”
“I didn’t write the book, Sirius,” muttered James, removing his glasses as he spoke in order to rub his eyes. “But this is the most detailed account of the transformation. The other books weren’t as in-depth as this one, so it has to have the answer -”
“I’m never going to be able to transform.” James’s words were interrupted by the soft voice of the blonde-haired boy, and both Sirius and James turned around to face him. He still stood in the centre of the dormitory. “We’ve been trying to find an answer for two months, and haven’t yet -”
“So? We’ll just keep looking,” said James. “There’s another month to go before the next full moon, so we have time.”
“You’ll transform, Peter,” said Sirius, approaching his friend and grasping him on the shoulder. “We just need to figure out how to make it easier, and the answer’s just bound to become available.”
Peter smiled for a moment at his friend’s reassurance, but the expression soon faded as reality settled over him. “But how?” he asked. “If the answer’s not in one of these books, then it wouldn’t be anywhere, right? Besides, it’s fine. I don’t need to come along; you and James can be with Remus -”
“No,” interrupted Sirius, glaring at Peter as he spoke. “We’re doing this together.” Fire seemed to burn in his eyes, and both James and Peter knew what such a thing meant in Sirius. He was absolutely determined, now. Letting go of Peter’s shoulder, Sirius walked over towards one of the beds - his own - and picked up another book - the one that they had deemed the ‘Slytherin Book’, due to its emerald green cover and title embroidered in thin, silver lines. Taking a seat at the head of the bed and leaning against the wall, he flipped through its pages quickly, turning them at such a speed it seemed almost impossible that he was really reading the words.
Suddenly, Sirius stopped, the book held open to a page near the very end of the tome, and he glanced up at Peter. There was a large smile on his face, and the black-haired teen’s eyes were alight with success. “I think I found the answer,” he said. “Peter, try this …” And he turned the book around so as to let the other two read the passages.
Five minutes later, the three boys had disappeared from the dormitory, only to have a stag, a dog, and a rat take their places.
----
There was nothing odd about that day at first, the only sounds in the crowded street being nothing out of the ordinary. People hurried to work, to school, to shops, to home. Each person was tied up in their own busy lives, and really, what reason did they have to be thinking that today would be different? It was simply the first day of November - nothing odd about that, of course.
Not even the strange people that seemed to be wandering through the cities today attracted much attention. After all, major cities always tended to attract a certain level of eccentric people, and if there happened to be people who wanted to walk around Britain in robes and cloaks, there was nothing terribly wrong with that. It was odd, yes, and citizens may have turned twice to look at the cloaked people more than once, but such things were soon put out of the minds of most.
But people had a way of being attracted to possible confrontation. There must be something about an argument, a fight, that causes people to gather just to watch. And the two, oddly dressed men on that crowded street weren’t exactly pouring forth levels of peace and calmness, and although their words could not be heard, the crowd still sought to pause on the sidewalks and watch.
----
“Why, Peter?” he hissed. His heart hammered in his chest as he glared at the man in front of him. A cool, autumn breeze caused his robes and hair to blow in the wind, but he paid the stray bits of black hair no mind. His fingers were wrapped around the cool, ebony wood of his wand, the tool held at his side but ready to be raised in an instant. Spells and incantations were already swirling through his head, each becoming more destructive and deadly as the seconds ticked by. And each would be a fitting end for the coward in front of him.
But first, he wanted to know. He wanted to hear the traitor admit to his actions, wanted to hear him confess. “Why did you betray them?” he said.
The shorter man’s voice was deathly quiet as he answered, the reply not precisely what his opponent - and former friend - had been expecting. “I didn’t betray them,” he said, his eyes meeting the steel-coloured orbs of the tall figure before him in a show of strength that many would never have attributed to the blonde-haired man. “You did.”
“What?” But the question had barely escaped Sirius's mouth before Peter's next words echoed loudly around the crowded street, filled as it was with spectators and passers-by. And every one of them heard every last word of the blonde man’s exclamation. All seven words in all of their condemning glory.
“Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?”
The words barely registered in Sirius's mind before he felt a large, sudden force of magic explode in the street, sending him flying backwards and falling - hard - on to the cold concrete. The air was instantly knocked out of him, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up, an effort that resulted in failure at first. Sounds of yells and screams rang in his ears, intensifying the pain in his head originally gained from its impact with the street, and the smell of smoke and burning flesh assaulted his nose. Eventually, he succeeded in slowly pulling himself to his knees, several hisses and groans of pain escaping him as his injured body protested the movement.
What Sirius saw, however, made him want to fall right back down and close his eyes. After all, if he shut his eyes, he would soon wake up from the nightmare, right? For that was what the sight before him could only be … A horrible nightmare.
He saw the burning storefronts with their black smoke and orange flames towering upwards towards the sky. He saw the piles of rubble and debris that had gathered on the walkways. He saw the screaming and crying people huddled on the street’s edge, hands clutched over mouths in horror and fingers pointing into the street. He saw the giant crater that had been blown into the solid concrete only a few metres in front of him. He saw the bodies of the dead and injured sprawled around it, blood and dirt covering their frozen or barely-moving forms.
And he saw the single, dark brown rat scuttling away from a tattered cloak, a tattered cloak with a single, bleeding finger lying on top of it.
~*~
That concludes this one.
~Megan