Veiled Emotions {Marauders Era}

IN REPAIR

Thunder and darkness struck down the alley Sirius Black had taken refuge for that day. Passers-by moved swiftly by him as if he was nothing more than a mere shadow; a flicker of dark light, substantiating the existence of blackness altogether. It was his desired effect: to be there and no longer acknowledged, to be seen and no longer worthy enough for the raise of a hat or even the stop of a smile. It took him days to finally reach this goal— cruelly well-achieving it.

The anger sounding in the skies above normally could have jolted him from the spiralling hole he was no longer able to escape. It could have given him some sense to stop the tracks of his thoughts, allow him to backtrack for his own goodness. But there was no noise louder or angrier than his own mind. The sonority consumed every thought, every flame of sound and fire. Even the mythical god of thunder fell short in comparison.

With every new crash of noises, more people rushed against the unnoticed man in black. The warning in the air seemed to venture within every nook of space available, and all they could do was escape the harsh change in atmosphere to the dull lights of Knockturn Alley’s dank shops and diners. Still, he waited, and waited a while longer while no one cared he existed, until he finally spotted the man he had been waiting for; prestigious and vicious against the thundering roars.

He moved, in both darkness and light interwoven, up until he reached behind him; the tall man, with a long, twisted face mirroring all what was wrong with life. In a shuddering moment Sirius acknowledged how he had to resort to people like him, that the information he desperately needed resided in filth like…

Like Antonin Dolohov.

As swiftly as the pouring rain above them, Sirius took out his wand and petrified the Death Eater, and just as swiftly did the man collapse. The flicker of satisfaction that went through Sirius as he listened to the man’s bones crashing against the bricks did not go unnoticed.

Still in noticeable pain and unable to bend down, Sirius dragged Dolohov to the narrow alley on his left, a creak just as abandoned as the soul he was seeking. Slowly, he crouched down and released his grasp on the Death Eater to revive him.  Dolohov’s eyes began to open in confusion, more bewilderment loading them as he was shot with a much more powerful spell; one that had no place for the reverse of situations.

“Imperio.”

The spell felt wrong on Sirius’s tongue. From all the vows he had taken on himself, using the Imperius curse was one of the most dearly unbreakable, never believing in the power of holding the life of another human by the tip of your wand. How cruel; to slay a human with a syllable– to take away their dearest possession of all.

But Sirius now knew no lengths.

“Tell me what happened to Regulus Black.” Sirius immediately questioned; his voice raspy from disuse. It had been days and days of silence, of only speaking when aiming to interrogate. The cords inside were tired. The dark locks of his hair were falling from the length of them, slick and greasy unlike their consistently elegant nature. Even the blood in his veins moved slowly from weariness.

Empty eyes spoke back as Antonin had no choice but to respond. “He was murdered. The Dark Lord disposed of him.”

“Why, you miserable piece of trash?” Sirius shot back, furious to receive the exact same response as the other Death Eaters he had crowded before him.

“No one cared enough to ask.”

And it was ice, and hollow glassiness, that consumed Sirius at that moment. He was able to handle it when the others replied I wasn’t there when the news was given, or I wasn’t allowed to know or even cold feet, but this gave the whole situation a broader length; one that spoke of finality and endings. One that perfectly depicted the life of a very young boy, young by age but senile in soul.