A Push in the Right Direction – Chapter 19 – emersli1!

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They were on the clock now.

Corvus turned to the Dementor Chief waiting patiently at the door of the cell.  “See us to the shore.  Remain here three more days, that none will look too closely at the timing of this.  Then come home.  All of you.”

The Dementor Chief nodded and moved off again, not up as Corvus had expected but down.

Cafall followed along and quickly they came to the bottom of the prison.  A long tunnel led out to a cavern that opened onto the North Sea.  This must be how they brought in supplies, and perhaps how they disposed of bodies.

Holding the body tightly in his arms, Severus nodded in farewell to the Dementor Chief.  “Three days.  Then go home.  Leave no one behind.”

And then Cafall was off.

Severus was barely conscious of the movement and speed at which they must be moving.  He was concentrating on two things.  The body in his arms, and staying atop his mount.

The sudden stop right outside the muggle hospital startled him, but he jumped off immediately, running towards the lights.  “Help!  Someone help me!”

Corvus ran through the doors into Emergency calling out.  It was late, but not yet so late that there weren’t plenty of people about.  A nurse came running, followed by other staff.  Someone took Sirius out of his arms and placed him on a gurney.

Checking for a pulse the nurse shook her head.   “No!  No, he was just talking to me.  Please…”

“You say he was just talking to you?  Do you mean that literally?  Like, just before you got here?”  Someone, probably a doctor, was questioning him.  Corvus nodded frantically.  

“Yes!  Yes, I could see the lights.  We were right at the edge of the carpark.  Please.”

“Alright.  CPR.  Let’s go!”  The medical team sailed into action, one member pressing rhythmically on Sirius’s chest while another blew into his mouth.  A third wheeled some sort of device into the area, turning it on and putting some sort of goop on the paddles.

“Clear!”  Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and raised their hands.  Corvus was about to protest, when the man touched the paddles to the body, causing it to convulse.  Another machine in the corner began beeping steadily and the medical team smiled at each other.

“There, that’s got him back.  Sorry.  I’m sure that looked horrible, but I assure you, your mate is the better for it.  Now, what happened?  How in the world did he get into that condition?”  The nurse was asking him questions while preparing to write his answers on the clipboard she held.

“I’m not sure.  I think he’d got lost up in the forest.  I was setting up camp when he came staggering into my campsite.  Said his name was Steven Barnes and asked what day it was.  Said he’d lost track.  Been wandering around looking for the way out.  He said his mates took him up there and left him as a prank.  Bloody poor prank, you ask me.”  Corvus had carefully prepared a story that would match with the facts of Sirius’s condition without raising too many questions he couldn’t answer.

Apparently he sold it, because the nurse nodded in understanding, and then shook her head in dismay at the idiocy of youth.  “Ay, that’d do it.  Well, we’ll hydrate him and watch him for the night to make sure he doesn’t arrest again.  If he’s stable through the night, we’ll probably let him go.  Thanks for bringing him in.  Seems you’re a better friend to him than his mates.”

“D’ya mind if I just …”  Corvus gestured towards the man in the bed.  “I’d kinda like to …”

Her face filled with understanding.  “Just make sure you don’t touch anything or get in the way if the alarms go off.  If that happens, back up into the corner and don’t move until somebody tells you to.”

“Thank you.  Thank you so much.  Not what I had planned for the night, but at least it’s ending right.”  Corvus smiled slightly while dropping into a chair in the corner.

Slowly the medical personnel cleared out, leaving Sirius sleeping in the bed.

Every half an hour, someone came to check on them.  After two hours of this, Corvus felt confident enough to approach the bed, pulling out one of the vials he’d been keeping in stasis.  Originally the Lady had planned to administer the potion herself, but concerns about an eldritch presence in the area during what would no doubt eventually be a manhunt had caused them to revise.

Breaking the stasis field on the vial, Corvus prepared to pour it into the unconscious man’s mouth while massaging his throat to induce swallowing.

He was unprepared to see Sirius looking at him through haunted eyes.  “Severus Snape.  And James and Reg didn’t ‘entreat’ you.  You volunteered.  Why?  Before I forget everything, just … why?”

“You weren’t guilty.  I was there that night, upstairs in the nursery.  I heard you arrive.  I never understood.  It didn’t make sense, your reaction, if you’d been the one to betray them.”  Severus looked at his former tormentor.  “And Regulus loved you.  I knew he would want …”  He shook his head.  “I couldn’t just leave you there.  I’m sorry it took so long.”

“You came.  My friends all fell away.  Left me to rot, the ones still alive.  But you.  You came.  That’s all that matters now.  And I know it’s the most awful cheek, to ask you for anything when you have risked so much for me.  But please.  I’m the last of Remy’s pack.  Without any packbonds, he’ll go insane.  If there’s any way to find him, could you see him to a new pack?”

Corvus could not believe these men, the strength of the bonds between them.  And Pettigrew had thrown this away for what?  Sighing deeply, he reluctantly nodded.  “Fine.  I’m about to start a mail order potions business.  I’ll hunt the wolf down and make him an offer, but I can’t guarantee he’ll accept it.”

“Thank you, Papa.  I’m ready now.”  Sirius closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

Corvus poured in the potion and watched as it took effect.

Sirius first seemed to grow.  His body fleshed out, wounds closing.  Then he began to shrink, faster and faster, until a small boy lay on the gurney.  He looked to be about two years old, which had been their target age.

Waiting a moment to make sure the effects had stopped, Corvus picked up his new son.  “Shhh little one.  Papa’s got you now.”

Peering up and down the corridors outside the cubicle, Corvus slipped out as their nurse entered a cubicle further down the way.  Walking nonchalantly to the exit, Corvus looked at the scrap in his arms.

“Now then, little man.  We have a train to catch.”

It was gut-wrenchingly, stomach-twistingly wrong.  

Yes, those terms meant the same thing, but Corvus stood by them.  They had made their way to the train station and caught the night train heading North.  An hour later, they were disembarking at a rural stop with one bench and one streetlight.

And for the entire hour and bit, Sirius hadn’t made a peep.  Not one sound.  And he shivered in Corvus’s arms.  Corvus had wrapped his sweater around the mite, thinking perhaps he was cold.  It was only April 30th, and the nights were still crisp.

But the shivering continued.  And the child made no sound.

Thinking of the map, Corvus started off into the wooded area, following the light of the moon.

After about a half hour of steady walking, Quinn found the stone circle glowing faintly in the dark.  Moving inside the circle, he prepared to make his plea.

“May the Family Magick lingering here accept that my intentions are pure.  May the Lady bless my purpose and find it pleasing.”

Corvus felt the weight of the original Family Magick that consecrated this circle in the 1100s, using a site that had been venerated since the Early Bronze Age.  A man appeared above the cairn to the east of the circle and moved to hover above the altar.

“And who might ye be that asks to use our space?  Most who come here now do as they will, with no regard for the true Magick held here.”

“My name is Corvus Myrrdin Quinn ap Gaiar of the Balfour Family Magick.  I seek to blood adopt this one into my line and my Family Magick.  My only purpose is the protection of this one who has been so grievously wronged.”  Corvus had not anticipated being confronted by the avatar of another Family Magick.  

“You’re a little far from home Corvus ap Gaiar.  Roman name in the Welsh form.  Interesting.  And apparently no imagination since they’ve called ye Raven Blackbird Wise.  Tell me you’re not givin’ the poor lad such a name.”  The man’s wry voice was becoming stronger as they spoke, and the moon rose higher into the sky.

“No.  He will be Nathaniel Rhys Quinn Balfour, if the Balfour Family Magick accepts him.”  Corvus hadn’t really given much thought to the translation of his own names.  He supposed it would sound funny, and unimaginative, to someone from the twelfth century.

“And what if the de Peverel’s wish to place a prior claim?  What then?”  The man smiled sharply at him as he goggled in amazement.  “What?  Did ye not know whose circle ye were using?”

“No, Lord de Peverel.  I did not.  But I would ask that your Family Magick stand aside.  The Peverell legacy is a heavy one to bear.”  Corvus absolutely did not want his son to be tied to the Deathly Hallows.  Dumbledore was far too interested in that old story.

Now the man scowled.  “Are ye talkin’ about those three idiots and that tale-teller Beedle?  Drug me good name through the mud, they have.  No lad.  The de Peverel family is more than just three cowards afraid to die.  I was a bastard son of The Bastard himself.  And me lion rampant would shred those three idiots if he could catch them.  Certainly, Beedle learned to regret drawing his attention.  Hmph!”

Corvus couldn’t help but notice how the posh tones fell away as the man became irritated.  But then if he had been a bastard son, courtly ways had probably come dear, and with much practice.  Severus himself had been at great pains to bury his northern lower-class accent with the polished tones of a higher born man.  He could completely sympathize.

“My Lord, I must tell you.  There is one who is this one’s enemy.  He wore the guise of a friend and mentor, but savaged him and threw him into a pit to die.  This fiend is preternaturally interested in those three cowards, possibly for the same reasons they initially treated with death.  I seek only to protect this boy.”  Corvus was careful not to claim Sirius was a child.  The spirit would detect any falsehood within the circle, and until the Family Magick accepted him, he was in a bit of limbo, still tied to the Black Family Magick.

“Very well then.  I accept that ye are pure of purpose here tonight.  The de Peverel Family Magick will allow the use of this ritual space for the blood adoption of Nathaniel Rhys Quinn into the Balfour Family Magick.  Should the Balfour Family Magick decline, we will take him for our own.  Ye know he’ll be better off with us than the family he’s currently tied to.  I can’t tell which Family it is, but their Magick is savaging him.”

“Thank you my lord.”  Corvus removed the second potion and broke the stasis field.  He took the silver knife Pare had given him for this purpose, and nicked his own thumb dropping five drops of blood into the vial.  Swirling it gently to mix it well, he began the Blood Adoption Ritual.

““Great Lady may our purpose here be pleasing to you.  Bless our endeavor, and grant us to always walk in your paths.”  The wind here was colder, but just as welcoming as back home, teasing around the edges of the circle.

“May the Family Magick find my son, Nathaniel Rhys Quinn, worthy, that he may in turn strengthen the Family Magick.”  Tipping the goblet up, Corvus encouraged his son to drink.

The child obediently swallowed the potion, and held still as Corvus pressed the knife to his small thumb.  Three drops of blood fell on the borrowed altar stone.

Then Corvus held his breath, and waited.

It took a count of seven, but slowly, as though it had taken them some time to find their way, the Balfour Family Magick responded.  The forest floor bloomed out in a carpet of violets, and a shape slowly formed above the altar.  As he watched, Corvus couldn’t help but notice that the moon had slipped past the half, and it was after midnight.

That being the case, perhaps he should not have been so surprised to see the woman who formed above the altar stone.  Red gown, blonde hair.  A red-gold torque.

He bowed low.  “My Lady Olwen.”

The White Lady looked at him, and then at the child he held.  “This one is a child of Fire and Earth.  I had to argue fiercely with the Lady Pele, but I won in the end.  It is not easy to bear elements that straddle the line between the Practical and the Divine.  Do you still swear to guide him, son of Arawn?”

“I do so swear.”  Corvus wasn’t sure how he’d guide someone with a strong Fire element, but he’d figure it out.  After all, he was fairly certain Thad was going to wind up straddling Air and Water.  What was one more to round out the group?  

Anyway, he couldn’t imagine turning away a child because of the elements they favored.  No, his children were more likely to have to be pried out of his old, arthritic hands.  A delightful laugh sounded from the woman above the altar stone.

“Yes, so my father also thought.  But I convinced him, when the right one came along.”  She winked at him.  Then taking one of her rings, she wrapped a white trefoil around the shaft.  “As you are Father, I am Mother.  I will be watching, my child.”  The ring and trefoil fell gently onto the little boy’s head as the May Queen departed the circle.

“I name you my son, Nathaniel Rhys Quinn.  May you always walk in the ways of our Lady Cerridwen, and your Lady Olwen, seeking their guidance in times of struggle..  As I will, so mote it be.”  

“Thank you, Lord de Peverel, for the use of your circle.”  With that, Corvus stepped out of the stone circle with a sleeping child in his arms.  He wished he could curl up on the ground and go to sleep himself, but he still had to get home.

“Steady on, son.  I’ve got you.  I’ve got you both now.”  A wild wind seemed to carry him up, and then Corvus was falling into his own bed in the cozy little room with the fireplace.

A familiar voice spoke softly as a well-known touch covered he and Nathaniel up with a blanket.  “I’ve got ye now, son.  Just rest.”  Sure hands took the baby, and recognizing them even in his nearly-passed-out state Corvus allowed it.  The soft voice began to hum an old, old lullaby.

Corvus slept, exhausted, but triumphant.