A Very Sirius Christmas Carol

Chapter 5

Sirius snored in his sleep, and woke himself up with the offensive sound. He shot up in bed, and seemed to hear the gears of the clock churn just before they reached the hour. One toll rang through the room and Sirius rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t get the scene the he had fled from out of his head and it was eating at his brain. Lily and James. Watching them die, seeing the terror that Lily must have felt moments before the door blew open. He shook his head and tried to clear his mind with the last of the clock chime.

He knew now that this was no dream he had been locked in. Nothing was going to erase the image of his former friends from his mind, there was no way he could stand to be surprised right now. He cowered in his bed and waited, knowing that something was to come tonight, and he was going to be ready for it. No hiding under the covers this time, he was going to face it head on.

There’s a manner about a man who has been taken by surprise and given an awful fright. He waits, staring at all shadows of the room, waiting for an unseen stalker to leap into the open, taking any shape. A stalker with the mind to scare the wits out of him again for sport. Sirius did just that. Sat in his bed, with the covers to his nose, peering all about the room, ready himself to pounce on anything that sought to disturb him that night. And one that is on edge like that, waiting for something to happen; he is taken even more by surprise when nothing happens.

The clock ticked and nothing. A quarter past. A half passed. Another quarter. But still Sirius’s eyes stayed scanning the room, looking to the window, the closet, the armoire, the shadows in the corner, all for nothing. Nothing happened.

But something was coming. He knew it. There was no doubt after that vision that something was amiss. It didn’t fade like a normal dream does, fluttering away as his mind became more conscious; this vision became clearer and clearer in his mind as he waited the minutes away. He became aware of an unearthly light that seemed to emanate from the clock itself. That light hadn’t caught his attention before and he looked for the source of it. The closet.

He got up and made his way to the door, knowing that each step he took was probably bringing him closer and closer to whatever malice waited for him that night. His heart started thumping in his chest and his hands were trembling as he reached for the closet door.

Before he could grasp it, a voice called to him. “Sirius Black. Enter.” It said. Sirius’s hackles rose as the voice struck a chord within him. He knew that voice, long had he known it. The sound of it made a well of fury bubble up in him and for a moment his vision was blurred. He entered the closet, but to his amazement, it was a mirror image of his own room. As he crossed the threshold and looked back over his shoulder, the door vanished, leaving only the dusty wall in its wake.

He turned and looked back to the room. His mother had always made the house elves decorate for the season, even the rooms that they slept in. Garland, holly and mistletoe adorned the walls and there was poinsettias spread throughout the room. There was a raging fire in the hearth, one that he had not seen since before Kreature had lost his sanity. It was so amazing, that for a moment he seemed to forget the voice that had summoned him through the door.

“Come in and know me better, Man.” The figure said. Sirius took notice of him for the first time. He was a stout man, dressed in green to match the livery in the room, and Sirius realized that his attire was the reason he had not seen him upon entering the room. This was not the face of the man since he had last seen him.

Peter Pettigrew’s eyes did not bear the nervous twitch that they did when Sirius last saw him. They were warm and kind, peering at Sirius with an alien expression on his face. It radiated kindness, but Sirius’s heart recoiled. This was the face that had betrayed them all. This was the man who had taken his freedom and the lives of many of his friends through his deeds. Sirius could not meet the eyes of the visage before him. He lowered them to the floor and clenched his fists.

“I am the ghost of Christmas Present.” Peter said. “Look upon me.”

Sirius raised his eyes, feeling the anger welling again, but forcing it to it’s place. Peter was clad in green robes, with a white fur trim, hanging off his plump body. Where the robes didn’t drag on the floor, Sirius could see that his feet were bare. On his balding head was a crown of Hawthorne, ringed with icicles and shimmering in the dim light. Held in his hand was a broken wand, rotted with age and dangling by it’s core.

“You have seen the likes of me before?” He asked Sirius.

“Never.” Sirius replied. “The Peter I knew is alive, and never before smiled or radiated peace the way that you do before me.”

“Have you walked with my brothers in arms before, known the face of my associates?” The spirit asked.

“I doubt I have.” Sirius replied. “How many brothers have you?” He asked.

“To you, I have three. We share two. But to others I have many. Faceless and countless, they hide in the shadows and await their call. We are countless and restless.” Peter responded.

“That’s a large family to account for.” Sirius said.

“If only you knew the scope of it.” Peter said as he rose.

Sirius rose with him and regarded his former friend. There was something in the face of the specter that made him wish to speak candidly. There was nothing he felt he had to hide from this being, and he faced him in all honesty.

“Peter.” He started, “Take me where you will. I left here in haste last night. And I have learned a lesson and seen many things that have stayed with me to this night. I am hounded by them, and learning the depth of what I face. Tonight, if there is a lesson for me to have, teach it to me. So I can embrace it with full understanding.”

“Touch my robe.” Peter replied, his face not changing.

Sirius did as he was told, and held on tight.