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The Sacrifice by Faeries Masquerade
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The Sacrifice

Faeries Masquerade

A/N: OK, this is the part where I had to do some extreme editing for Portkey. I extend my apologies, but it simply couldn't be helped. I did my best to make the following chapter as coherent as possible. The editing is what took me so long: trying to take parts out was killer to me. This is my baby, after all. But I managed it, so here it is. I made it a bit longer than I normally do since it's been so long between updates.

Remember, I finished writing this story in January, and on other sites I've already finished posting it. Portkey is a late discovery of mine however (thanks Michie!) so we're only about halfway through it. We have so many more chapters to go before we reach the end, so never fret! There is much much more to come, and I appreciate all comments. The more feedback I get, the better. My thanks to all of you. :)Enough of me talking, lets get to the good stuff!

Chapter 22: Attack in the Night

The halls were very dark. James and Dumbledore reached the stone gargoyle that hid the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore opened his mouth to give the password when an unearthly howl split the air. Both men whipped around to scan over the Hogwarts' grounds. That was a very familiar howl, and much louder than it normally was. They both knew instantly what it meant.
"Oh my god," James whispered.

***************

Sirius felt like he'd been sitting in the dark for ages, with his head in his hands, in the comfortable armchair in Dumbledore's office. He saw nothing, he heard nothing. His mind ached with the turmoil of the past weeks, especially the past few hours. Lost in the woods, then finding Sara like he had . . . and he didn't even have Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail anymore to help him get through this. He'd never felt so lost and alone in his life.
Surely, life at seventeen wasn't supposed to be this hard! He'd thought all he had to worry about was finishing school and surviving N.E.W.T.'s. Was this adulthood, then? This massive tangled web of lies and deceit, trials and tribulations, and horror after horror? If this was what it was to be grown up, then he sorely wished Peter Pan would fly in the window and take him far, far way to NeverNeverLand, just like in the children's books. Screw adulthood and all the shit that came along with it.
Oh, how he yearned for a Time Turner. To be able to go back and do things over again. If he could change things, maybe . . . . . but why go back? What was the point of it all?
Sirius had gone through much in the past weeks. He'd experienced joy, desire, love, regret, sorrow, pity, fear, and anger. Just about every human emotion possible, he'd felt it. Now, at the final moment, he found himself on the brink of despair, with no way out.

***************

Peter knew he had one chance of escape. If the wolf's claws didn't squeeze the life out of him, his jaws would tear him to pieces.
He transformed into the creature he'd become inside and out. In rat form, he fell to the ground and wriggled into the greenhouse through a small hole between glass and the iron frame. The werewolf's claws slammed hopelessly against glass, missing Wormtail by inches.
Wormtail scuttled under the tables lined with pots of Mandrakes. Once safely inside and a good distance away from the glass walls, he returned to his simpering human form.
Remus banged repeatedly against the glass when he saw him (Peter) standing by the tables. Peter rushed over and locked the door. Phew! I'm inside, he's out. He'll wander away eventually.
An ominous silence fell. Peter turned to look; Remus had gone. Peter cautiously tiptoes back over to where he'd been. He didn't see the wolf anywhere. He leaned over the table and looked as hard as he could in both directions. It was very dark now, but he didn't see anything anywhere. Peter sighed in relief. Safe.
Peter jerked back and hit the ground just in time. The glass wall gave way under the weight of the enormous werewolf as Remus jumped through with a snarl. Glass shards fell over Peter as Remus landed on the table with a thud and howled in triumph, drowning out Peter's screams.

*******************

Lily opened her eyes. She was facing the end of the hall and saw that heavy silver chains crisscrossed the door where Madame Pomfrey had disappeared with Sara's body, locking her in the little room. Lily turned her head. Lucius Malfoy was standing by the now-locked doors leading from the outside. They were alone together, trapped. The look in his eyes was very familiar and Lily felt the fear return as he began to move towards her.
Lily rolled over and off the bed, away from Lucius. The full extent of her injuries was made known to her at that moment and she collapsed on the floor, writhing in pain. She heard his footsteps growing nearer and frantically tried to crawl to safety.
Harsh hands grabbed her hair and pulled her roughly to her feet. She gasped as the muscles in her legs gave out. She was now being held up only by Lucius' firm grasp. Her eyes watered in pain as Lucius' forced her head back until she was looking in his cold eyes.
"This time is for everything," he hissed.

****************

This is it. Goodbye, cruel world. Under normal circumstances, Peter's dramatics would have seemed ridiculous as usual, but in this instance he wasn't far off. Peter opened his eyes to see the cold, snarling face of the wolf bearing down on him, his snout mere inches from Peter's nose. Vicious eyes gleamed as the lips drew back to reveal sharp, glistening teeth. Spittle drooled onto Peter's face.
Remus was seconds from tearing apart Peter's chubby face. Peter whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the moment those razor-like teeth would rip into his skin. It never came.
There were noises in the darkness, a crash. Peter heard what sounded like a whimper from Remus, then a thud. The werewolf's hot breath was no longer blowing in his face. Peter chanced a peek with one eye. The table Remus had been on was overturned. The wolf was on his side, breathing deep. His eyes were closed.
Peter turned and saw Dumbledore and James striding over to them.
"Wormtail! Are you all right?" James stretched a hand out and helped Peter to his feet.
"Yeah," Peter gasped. "I'm fine. Maybe. I think my heart's gone and run off on me, did you happen to see it around anywhere?"
James gave a shaky laugh. The sight of the huge wolf bearing down on tiny Peter had been terrifying. They looked over to where Dumbledore was leaning over the apparently unconscious wolf.
"Is he--"
"He'll be all right," Dumbledore said. He enchanted the wolf to float in the air, much like Peter had done, unbeknownst to the others, to his fellow students last night. "I'll take him to the Shrieking Shack. Go to my office, both of you," Dumbledore ordered. His gaze fell on James, who nodded, and on Peter, whose insides were squirming.
"I promise you, Remus will be fine," Dumbledore said softly. "Now go."
Damn. You couldn't have finished him off for me Peter thought savagely. James, completely unaware of Peter's thoughts, put what he thought was a comforting arm around Peter.
"We heard the howls and came running," James said. "You sure you're all right, mate?"
Peter nodded, his eyes on the retreating figures, shadows in the dark now. He had a huge problem to fix now. Lucius was going to kill him for this.
"C'mon, let's get out of here," James said. "Sirius is waiting for us in Dumbledore's office." Peter snapped to attention.
Sirius! Shit! What if he . . . dear god. Peter was near frantic. This could mean very big trouble.
"You should never have been out here, Pete," James said. "What if Dumbledore and I hadn't come along? You'd be werewolf food by now, my friend."
"I can take care of myself," Peter shot angrily. James quickly removed his arm from Peter as though he'd been shot.
"All right, don't get mad at me," James said, stung.
"I-I. . . sorry, Prongs." Peter changed tacks swiftly; it wouldn't do for his true feelings to emerge. "I'm just a bit frazzled, I suppose."
"Sure, Wormtail, who wouldn't be?" James' voice told Peter all was not quite forgiven, but it didn't matter. Damage control had to be done about Sirius, and fast.

Calista plunged the knife straight into Sara's heart. Sara's eyes opened wide and her scream echoed through the trees. She was not the only one.
Peter turned, hearing another voice ring with Sara's. Sirius was awake, though bound and gagged as he was, his cry didn't have the effect as Sara's did. But the look on his face was no less terrified. Sirius' eyes left the dais and scanned the faces of the people surrounding it. His eyes locked with Peter's. His stomach squiggled inside him, but he did not look away.
A thousand emotions seemed to gleam in Sirius' eyes: shock, hurt, reproachful ness, fear. 'Yeah, so what?' Peter thought. 'I'm not so little anymore no am I?'
Peter turned away and refocused his attention to the dais. Sara was squirming under the knife, crying out in pain for someone to help. Calista wrenched the knife from the girl's chest, raised it high and brought it swiftly down again, this time into Sara's abdomen. Over and over Calista repeated the ritual, seeming fueled by an unknown fire inside her.
Peter heard heavy breathing. He glanced over and saw Severus; his eyes alight with glee as they focused on Calista's face.
'He enjoys this,' Peter thought. 'Sick.' The others were just as bad. Bellatrix was almost dancing with joy, indeed, laughter bubbled from her lips.
Only the hooded figure behind Calista seemed calm. He made no movements, spoke no words. He simply watched as Calista slashed the life, body and soul of Sara Brown to pieces. Long after the girl's screams stopped Calista still delivered her blows.
Peter looked down. The rats he had gathered for the bringing were scampering at the edge of the wave of blood pouring off the dais. He looked closer. They were licking at the blood with their pointed tongues, squeaking excitedly. peter felt nauseous.
Calista finally stopped. Watching her face, it seemed she was waking up from a dream. Her eyes focused on the scene around her as she gasped for breath. The knife fell onto the stone dais with a ringing 'clink' and she stepped away, looking around her in growing horror. She backed straight into the arms of the shadowy figure behind her. Startled, she looked into his face.
Peter almost felt sorry for her. He remembered looking into the same face after performing this exact ritual on Lauren O'Henry two years ago. It was not a pretty sight.
"Well done, my dear. Well done indeed." The sound of his voice still sent chills down Peter's spine. Voldemort stretched out one long finger and brushed Calista's left arm. Suddenly, it clamped on her forearm with what Peter knew to be surprising strength. Smoke filtered out from beneath those skeletal fingers as a hissing sound filled the air. Calista was the one screaming this time, trying to wrench herself free from Voldemort's grasp.
It was over soon, and he let Calista go. She slumped on the ground, clutching her arm and sobbing."
Voldemort's hood turned in the direction of Severus.
"Teach her," he said. Severus nodded, a lewd smirk on his face.
In a wisp of smoke, Voldemort had vanished. A raven flew high into the air. As its wings flapped, one feather floated gently down and landed near Lucius.
As the others turned to Sirius, Peter heard a chirping and glanced at Lucius. Where the feather had fallen, a small featherless baby bird now lay. No, not featherless. It was changing before Peter's eyes, feathers sprouting from its pink skin, growing larger every second. Lucius scooped the bird up and placed it gently in the folds of his robe. He winked at Peter, who could only look back in awe.
A groan brought Peter's attention back to the circle. He turned, Rodolphus had sucker-punched Sirius in the gut, and the slammed a right hook into his face. Sirius was knocked out again.

"If Sirius remembers anything, I've got big problems," Peter muttered quietly. James didn't hear. Peter had to ditch him somehow. He needed to find one of them, fast.

********************

Calista buried her head into her soggy pillow. Hours of tears had soaked into the cotton, making it smell like fish, oddly enough, but she didn't care. What were luxuries to her when her life was a ruin?
The locked door burst open. She didn't feel like talking. Luckily, the green velvet curtains that adorned her bed were drawn so no one could see her. She stayed quiet, hoping that whoever it was would leave her alone.
Her arm was burning where he'd touched her. Calista pulled up the sleeve of her robe to gaze upon the black burn the Master had scorched into her skin.
The Master. . . her mind had already forgotten the use of his true name. She was too afraid to use it.
"So, you've joined the club." It was the other girl. It was a familiar voice, Calista screwed up her face trying to place it. It had to be someone close to one of the others; they obviously knew what was going on. The voice continued, low and velvety soft.
"Did you kill her then? The Brown girl? Served her right, consorting with Mudbloods and werewolves and the like."
Calista's face burned at the mention of Remus. He's better than all of them combined.
"You did a good thing, Calista." The last nerve had been struck. Calista tore open the hangings of her bed.
"What do you--" she stopped. The girl was sitting at a vanity table, a silver comb brushing long blonde tresses. Narcissa. Her piercing hazel eyes met Calista's in the mirror.
"I'm not one. I will be soon enough.," she smiled. Her smile was beautiful, yet cold, empty. Sad. It was the smile of one who has no choice but to either live the life that has been chosen for her, or not live at all.
"Lucius." Calista said simple. Narcissa merely nodded.
"Why do it then?" Calista wanted to know. Something in her told her Narcissa was a kindred spirit, drawn into this life against her will.
"What choice do I have?" Narcissa was not unkind, but her voice told Calista she was a simpleton not to have seen the obvious.
"Why don't you run?" Calista said softly. If Narcissa can run, maybe. . .
Narcissa laughed hollowly and put down her comb. "Run? Where to? Where on earth can I go that the Blacks will not find me?" There was silence as Calista took that in.
"And where, too, can you run that the Dark Mark will not follow you?" Narcissa's velvet voice invaded Calista's ears. She was almost distracted by the musical resonance Narcissa's voice held, but the words cut deep.
"Close your heart, Calista, or you will just give them one more thing to destroy. They're like locusts, destroying everything in their path until there's nothing left to ruin. Only then will they finish each other. Then, maybe, the world will find peace. Until then, survive. Do what you have to, cut out whom you must. Caring about anyone will only ruin their life. That's what we are now." A single tear coursed its way down Calista's cheek. She'd never known this side of Narcissa; she'd always thought her a younger version of her sister, Bellatrix. Surely this wasn't to always be her life?
"We're trapped, you see. Isn't it something to be the pawns in the grand designs of others?"
Calista just stared into Narcissa's sad eyes in the mirror.
They held each other's gaze for moments before Narcissa blinked and broke the connection. She picked up her brush again, running its fingers through her hair. Now her eyes were cold and hard, nothing in them but the pure-blood snobbery that was the Black family disease.
"Live with it."
A sob choked Calista's throat. "I can't," she whispered. Narcissa met her eyes again in the mirror and odd expression filled her face. Was it pity?
Calista watched as she reached into a drawer of her vanity and pulled out a long, thin blood red leather box. There was silver stitching on it. Narcissa stood and walked over to the bed where Calista sat. She stood, looking down at the shivering Calista who gazed back with eyes that glistened with tears.
"Then do the one thing I haven't the strength to do." Narcissa said softly. She held out the box to Calista, who took it cautiously and turned it over in her hands.
"Don't live." Calista looked once at Narcissa's expressionless face, then back at the box. She opened it and saw: its handle jeweled in tiny emeralds and adorned with the Black family crest, the pencil thin dagger glistening on silver silk.