Welcome to the Void Who: Sirius Black What: Sirius wakes following the Halloween attacks. When: 7 November Where: London, England Status: Complete Warnings: Mentions of blood, pain, and the Halloween attacks.
When Sirius Black awoke, he wished he hadn’t.
The first thing he became aware of was an incessant beeping. A sharp, truncated bleat, pitched high enough to torture any dog, Sirius searched the darkness for its source. But no matter where he turned, an endless void awaited. A vast nothingness occupied only by Sirius’ consciousness, and the endless, increasingly obnoxious bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep echoing through the oubliette of his mind.
The longer he searched, the more frustrated he became. Mental agitation morphed into the physical, and as Sirius’ body began to shift against its figurative restraints, he became aware of a second haunting presence: pain.
It burst forth from every angle of the void, assaulting senses and praying on his vulnerability until at last, overcome by the invasion, Sirius succumbed. His eyes fluttered open, battered immediately back into darkness by a violent bright light. Squinting against its vanguard was hopeless, as the pain flanked his defenses and Sirius let out a groan, attempting to sit up and escape. Everything in his mind told him, “Move!” He needed to move. To get up. To run.
Get up, or she’s going to murder you. Move, Sirius. You have to move.
“Sir… Sir, don’t move… Lie back down, you’ve been injured, and you’ve had surgery. Please stay still, Sir.”
It would take several minutes and two nurses to restrain Sirius, coaxing him back into bed with another dose of morphine. Only when every limb felt the way a Dalí painting looked - melting through the sheets until flesh and bone were one with the fabric - did Sirius begin through the gauzy haze to decipher truth from surrealism.
There had been an attack. He remembered that now. Remembered exiting the Ministry an hour shy of the full moon rising, giving him just enough time to apparate to Hogsmeade and make his way to the Shrieking Shack to accompany Remus through the evening. Only, he hadn’t made it that far. Death Eaters had been awaiting; more specifically, his cousin had been waiting. Bellatrix Lestrange: a woman who liked to play with her food. The attack had caught Sirius completely off guard.
Naturally, the Order had expected a move by the Death Eaters that evening. In fact, Sirius had been at the Ministry checking in with members of the DMLE in preparation. However, never would he have labeled the Death Eaters bold enough to attack in muggle London.
That miscalculation had cost him dearly, and as Sirius listened to the kindly NHS nurse explain his injuries and subsequent surgeries required to save his life, he suspected many others had paid a similar - if not steeper - price.
“You’re very lucky we found you when we did, Sir. With those injuries, it’s a miracle you survived. Rest now. Is there anyone we can call for you?”
With gut flipping realisation, Sirius cleared his throat, and quietly croaked out, “No...”
He was alone. Injured in a muggle hospital with an incision from stem to stern - with no wand.
There was no one to contact. And no one was coming for him.
~ * ~
Several days of top notch drugs and the flirtatious care of charge nurses saw a wee twinkle return to Sirius’ gaze. But even their doting attentions could not keep him in bed for long. There was a war to return to, people to check in on. Besides, a wizard could only go so long without a wand before the magic, with no other outlet, started sizzling out his fingertips.
No. Sirius Black was not a good patient. Laying helplessly in bed for days on end the exact opposite of how he was wired, it couldn’t last.
~ * ~
So it was exactly one week after his cousin had painted the streets with his blood that he left the NHS against medical advice.
Transfiguring into Snuffles was perhaps the stupidest idea he’d had in rather quite a long time, but there was nothing for it. He couldn’t very well sneak out the NHS in a patient gown, arse flapping in the breeze, clutching at his stitches and expect to make it to the front door. But as a dog? They couldn’t kick him out quick enough.
From the street, it was barely a blessed three miles to St. Mungo’s, but those three miles felt a continent. Every step agony, every breath eerily reminiscent of his last.
But Sirius’ hidden superpower would see him arrive alive - despite Bella’s better efforts - to the department storefront that served as the entrance to St. Mungo’s. Stubbornness could do wonders for a person. And for someone like Sirius who was hardheaded as he was handsome, even critical injury could not stop him from surviving.
He would pay his dear cousin back, tenfold. Even if it took a lifetime, she would regret her actions on Halloween.
Transfiguring back into his human form did, however, nearly do Sirius in. The first thing Sirius felt was his skin ripping apart before being joined by the hot, sticky sensation of blood oozing down his front. The pain he’d became numb to, except for the tight clenching of his teeth as if they might shatter right there in his mouth under the tension.
“Fairly sure I need a healer,” came a chortle as Sirius stumbled into the lobby of St. Mungo’s. How fitting that his last words were a joke, before he dropped to the marbled floor like a felled tree.