A Push in the Right Direction – Chapter 16 – emersli1!

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9 Minutes

Corvus Quinn was getting ready to do something he hated.

He was preparing to ask for help.

It had been a wonderful year.  The boys had grown and developed so much, both physically and verbally.  They now played and shouted and laughed like any other children their age.  The house was full of life and noise, at least until bedtime.  One of the rooms upstairs had been converted with space expansion spell work and the boys had been given free rein to express their desires as to paint colors and fabrics.  The result was a colorful, exuberant space full of life and creativity.

Likewise, Corvus himself had grown in his craft.  The first year of his Level 1 training had gone very well.  He had met with his Board in Rome three weeks ago, and they had pronounced him ready to move on with his modification of existing potions and ready to begin to explore the creation of new potions.  As a Level 2 Master, he had the right to sell what he brewed and he and Pare had been talking about what that might look like in the coming year.

As members of the ellylon, the elves of Wales, Corvus and his family were now considered cousins to all the elvish races of the world.  Three days after getting his wand, he had gotten a knock at the door.  The chief of the elf clan living in the mountains above them had been at the door with a young she-elf.  K’Sern explained that his niece was looking for a position where she could look after children without having to dodge their parents’ unwanted advances.  A cousin’s home would be perfect, and since he just happened to have two young lads…

Destra was a lovely young fada, and both boys adored her.  Over the year she’d made her home with them Corvus had come to view her as a younger sister.  The boys were thriving in her care, and being away from her overbearing mother had given the she-elf room to spread her own wings.

And if K’Sern occasionally dropped by to check on her, and happened to stay for a glass of wine with Corvus … well, that was between them now wasn’t it?

Things were going so well … but there was one tiny little fly in the ointment of his life.

An innocent man was still in prison for a crime he’d never even been tried for, much less convicted of committing.

Corvus had studied the problem from every angle he could think of, but so far had come up blank.  He could not access Azkaban without being detected, and he could not remove a person from Azkaban.  He needed help.

So here he was, barefoot in his family ritual space preparing to entreat his Lady Cerridwen and Lord Arawn for guidance.

“May the Lady bless my purpose here tonight.”

“Well, finally!”

A tall, thin figure with a crown of horns hovered in the space above the altar.  “I thought you were never going to ask.”

Corvus gave the god an unimpressed glare.  “I like to take care of my own business.”

Arawn’s face softened.  “Son, I appreciate that you are responsible and industrious.  Goodness knows we get entreated often enough by lazy sluggards who don’t want to have to think critically or creatively.  Asked to manage situations from missing keys to missing kids.  But sometimes you need help, and there’s no shame in asking for it.”

Corvus sighed.  “I’m asking for it.  I keep hitting two obstacles … I can’t get in and I can’t take Sirius out.  Until I can come up with a solution to those two problems, none of my other plans for the situation will matter.”

“I have some ideas about getting you in …”  The horned king had barely begun when he appeared to have been … jolted?   Moved to the side, anyway.

“Move over, brother.  You’re taking up all the space.  Now Corvus,” The Lady’s white hair billowed out around her.  “I have an idea or two about getting Sirius out, and what needs to happen afterwards.”

“Sister!”  Arawn drew himself up in offended dignity.  “We were having a conversation.”

“Yes, and I want to join the conversation.  You just jumped in while he was entreating MY blessing.  He hadn’t even gotten to you yet.”  The Lady frowned at the fae King.  “Now then,  I think the answer to getting Sirius out is obvious.  You can’t take a living person out of Azkaban.  But the wards and the Dementors wouldn’t notice a dead body being removed.  Clearly Sirius needs to die before he can live.  The greater problem is moving forward…”

“Well, if the man can’t get in, then it doesn’t matter how he gets the fellow out, does it?”  Arawn looked at the Lady with exasperation.  “Corvus, I think I can get you in.  I don’t know if I could get Sirius out as a living person, but my hound Cafall could get you into and out of the prison unseen.  The Dementors probably wouldn’t bother you anyway.  They should be able to tell you’re one of mine, and I’ll have their ratty old cloaks if they threaten you.  But the wards would definitely record your presence.”

A huge white hound with a long, silky white coat and red ears appeared beside Arawn.  “You can ride Cafall into the prison and carry Sirius out with you … once he’s not a living being anymore.”

“Alright.  Thank you My Lord and Lady, for a way into the prison.  And I appreciate the thought of killing Sirius as a means of removing him.  I’m sure I’m not the only one Dumbledore marked, and that would break any potential bonds.  The problem is that Azkaban is on an island.  The closest muggle town that might have emergency services is almost an hour away.  He’d never survive that long, and I’m really not equipped to bring him back myself.”  Corvus just wasn’t willing to trust in his own efforts at resuscitation.  And while Sirius might prefer death over the hell he was currently enduring, Quinn didn’t want it to be death at his hands.

The Lady Cerridwen glared at her brother.  “Is it my turn now?  Oh good.  Yes, yes.  Well done for coming up with a way to mask his presence and get him in.  Now, Corvus.  Once you get the man back breathing, you need a way to break him away from the Black Madness that has consumed the Black Family Magick.  The corruption has spread so deeply that the only Black’s who aren’t affected are the ones who’ve been ritually disowned.  And despite Walburga’s temper tantrum, Arcturus never ritually disowned Sirius.”

Corvus sighed.  This was starting to feel more and more as though Sirius was having his agency stripped from him.  “Pssst.  Sev.  Over here.”  

Looking up past the squabbling Lord and Lady, Corvus saw James Potter crouching at the very back edge of the family altar.  Cautiously eyeing the deities, he sidled around to where he was close enough to hear whatever James wanted to tell him.

“Listen, Sev.  Sirius hated being a Black.  Even before the Madness took him.  And he always swore he’d kill himself when he felt it begin.  He thought he’d have enough time to see Harry grow up, but he knew it would strike him down before he reached fifty.  He even had a method all planned out.  They say the Madness already has him in its grip, probably because of the Dementors.  He’s not going to object to you killing him, even if he stays dead.  But if he doesn’t…”

The man sighed, trying to decide how much of his blood brother’s personal torment to reveal.  “He would be absolutely joyful to be adopted into another family’s Magick.  The Potter Magick would have accepted him, but my father was afraid of being accused of line theft and stealing another Family’s Heir.  You could adopt him.  But only if you were willing to raise him.”

Corvus pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Seriously?  NO James … don’t you dare!  But, I’d have to regress him so far … he’s twenty-four.  Almost twenty-five.  No one’s ever regressed a patient more than a year.  I was working on a way to up that to five years … to try to get around the dementor-exposure and prison trauma, but even that is extreme.  And we don’t even know for certain the memories wouldn’t tag along, assuming we could regress the … body…”

The two men suddenly became aware that they were the focus of two intense stares.  Looking up at the Lord and Lady standing above the altar, both mortals gulped.  The Lady Cerridwen dusted her hands together as if it was all a done deal.  “Right.  I’ve got the cauldron, so I’ll brew the regression potion.  I may consult with the Dagda on how to add an Obliviate to it.”

The Lord Arawn responded immediately.  “Cafall and I will get him in and them out.  Then we’ll have Cafall run them to the nearest trauma center.  It’ll have to be Stafford.  I know that’s a hell of a run, but the hound can do it.  You’ll meet us there with the potion as soon as he’s back.  I’m not sure how we’ll sneak him out…”

Corvus snorted.  “It’s a muggle facility.  When it loses a man, it’s not going to look at every babe in arms just in case.  They’ll be looking for a grown man.  He’ll still be a Black at that point, and there’s no telling when they’ll notice he’s missing or who might be looking for him that could do a search on the Family Magick or line.  So, we can’t wait and do the adoption at home.  Where…”

James lit up.  “Doll Tor.  It’s about forty miles from Stafford, and at night it wouldn’t be populated the way sites like Stonehenge would be.  It was originally a family circle.  It might like to be used for a family ritual again.  You can make your way there by the last train if we time things right.”

Corvus looked at the three spirits hovering expectantly above the altar.  “Alright.  Alright, if you can brew that potion, I’ll brew the adoption potion, and I guess we’ll leave it up to … whoever … who’ll make up the other half, since both Walburga and Orion are Blacks.  Give me three weeks.  That’s how long it will take me to get a birth certificate in place for him in the muggle world.  Then we’ll go get him.”

“Excellent.  I’ll go start consulting right away.  You are doing so well, young Raven.  Blessed Be.”  The Lady faded out first, obviously having things to do.  The Lord was next.  “Be well, Corvus.  Cafall will be waiting for your call.”

James was last, and as he began to fade said quickly, “I can’t thank you enough for being willing to do this.  This is going way beyond what you even agreed to attempt.  Oh, and Sev?  Welcome to the Marauders!”  With a cheeky wink, James faded from sight.

Corvus closed the ritual feeling as though he’d run a marathon.  Or maybe been run over by a … no, no.  He knew what that felt like.  Never mind.  He was tired.  Let’s just leave it at that.

Picking up his shoes and socks he stumbled wearily up the stairs.  Fumbling across the great room toward his bedroom Corvus became aware of a steadying arm.  A soft lilt.  He tried to speak, to tell his father about the visitors.

But the older man just laid a blanket over him on the bed.  “Tomorrow, Corvus.  Time enough tomorrow to tell me of  yer plans.  Sleep now.”

He knew no more until morning.