bloodandflowers | (no subject)

Sirius has stormed across the breach no less than five times since first getting stuck there. He's grown more frantic with each visit, his missing wand like a missing limb and Harry--

It's not the other Darrow he heads for now, but Kell's little room. Sirius isn't without all of his magic, but his power is greatly limited without his wand. He's not usually in the habit of asking for help, even when he knows it's necessary, but he's run out of options and finding Harry (and his wand) is far more important than any bit of pride. A large part of him isn't expecting to actually find Kell in the little room anyhow seeing as the last several times Sirius has tried, he's not been in.

But this time he is, stretched out on the little cot against the wall, a bottle sat beside him as he fiddles with the ornament Sirius had got for him only weeks ago.

That gives him a bit of a pause, a little flash of warmth that's quickly subsumed by panic.

"Right, there you are," He doesn't wait for a response, but rather marches right over to grab Kell by the front of his shirt and yank him to his feet. Which is when he notices the miserable look upon his face and he stops short, stomach plummeting. "What's happened?"

Kell had nearly grown used to Lila's spontaneous entries to his apartment. Even after the silence of the last few weeks, even after her curt dismissal only hours before, he's half expecting to see her, but it's Sirius who hauls him to his feet.

"What?" Kell asks, just drunk enough to wobble. It takes a moment more to realize how he must look, with swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks. Kell sighs and sinks back onto his cot. "Lila," he croaks out. "She left."

Kell sways the smallest bit and Sirius quickly rests a hand to his side, steadying him with a deeper frown.

"What do you mean?" he asks, that lurking sense of dread rearing its head once more. Leaving isn't the same as disappearing, of course, but sometimes it's all one and the same. And what's she left exactly? The city? Her and Kell's relationship? His scowl doesn't waver any as Kell slides out of Sirius's hold to drop back to his cot. Sirius shakes his head. "Where's she gone?"

"To the other Darrow," says Kell, his chin trembling as he says, "To the other Kell. She says he's training her, that together they can summon the magic to go home, but it's madness."

Kell pushes an arm beneath his eyes. "That sort of magic takes years to learn. I'm not afraid to teach her. I'm afraid she'll take on too much, and now she has. And she - she wants him."

"There's another you?" Sirius remarks first without thinking, perplexed. As many times as he's been there, Sirius feels certain he would've noticed.

Then again, he's been a bit focused each time.

And anyhow, Kell's continued on, burying his face against his arm and moaning in a way that sounds far too much like James through half of seventh year to be pleasing. "Oh, well that's ridiculous," he snipes then, once again reaching to grab Kell by his shirt and haul him to his feet. "Why on earth would she want another you when there's, well-- there's you?"

He doesn't wait for a response to that, just keeps one hand fisted in Kell's shirt as he glances about the room, spotting Kell's ever-present jacket draped over a chair and grabbing it as well. "Let's just go after her then, shall we? Talk some sense into her. And maybe find my wand while we're at it."

Internally, Kell recoils at the thought of Lila stripping him bare a second time. She hadn't wanted to see him at all, that much is clear. She was only at the wedding for her friend, never for him, and Kell can't bear that humiliation twice. Thankfully, he is spared in the next moment as Sirius continues to speak.

"You've lost it?" he asks. "In the other Darrow, are you sure?"

"I've not lost it, it was stolen," Sirius insists because there's a very distinct difference.

And it's, by far, not the worst thing he's without right now, but it's a much easier thing to focus on than his missing godson. Sirius shoves Kell's jacket it into Kell's hand before taking him by the wrist and, without another word, Apparating them both into a little room nearly identical to the one they'd just been in, though with notably fewer bits and bobs and not a single map in sight.

"And you can help me look for Harry," he continues, ignoring the voice in the back of his head, the one shouting that Kieren's right after all. That he reason Sirius hasn't yet found him is not because he's lost or stuck in this other place, but that he's truly gone. He stops short of the door, turning to look back at Kell. "Do you have your own magic for that?" he asks with a blossom of hope. "For finding people."

Kell reels in the wake of Sirius' sudden and bloody awful traveling magic. As ever, he feels compressed and uncomfortable even after the enchantment fades, and even more egregiously, a touch more sober.

His look of outrage fades, however, as Sirius mentions his godson. "I do," he says, though he has used it only once. He steps after Sirius with a frown. "Has he disappeared into another Darrow as well?"

Sirius doesn't miss the shift of Kell's expression from irritation to perhaps something like concern. Sirius's stomach twists anew, the ever-present uncertainty under his skin flaring bright as he shakes his head.

"Yes," he says because he still wants to believe that. "And what's more I've met a friend of his here. Another version of a friend, I should say. In her world Harry's a Death Eater. Can you believe it? Harry." It's still a completely ludicrous notion as far as Sirius is concerned though he supposes alternate dimensions and universes and worlds can only contain an infinite number of possibilities, including ludicrous ones. "And I've not been able to find Harry in our Darrow for weeks now so he must be here. Maybe held at the hands of his evil twin."

Sirius doesn't mention that he's looked countless times himself, most of them as Padfoot trying desperately to catch a sent to no avail.

He's trying not to think about that himself.

Sirius has only spoken in fragments about the Death Eaters of his world, but he knows enough to find the idea of Harry joining them repugnant. "If he is here, I will help you find him," he promises. It's an offer he made once before, one that Sirius ultimately turned down, but his need is greater today.

It's no small bit of magic, either, but after the wedding, after Lila, Kell wants to try. He isn't weak. He's certainly not afraid just because he has the good sense not to kill her with ambition. "Do you have something of his?"

"What, like a token?" Sirius replies with a frown, immediately patting his hands against the pockets of his black leather jacket.

He's been looking after Hedwig since Harry's been missing, but he hardly thinks she'd count. Plus, he doubts Kell's very keen on apparating again quite so quickly. "I've some money he lent me the other week. Would that work?" he asks, pulling out the little pouch of coins and bills and tugging it open.

"It would be easier with something that holds meaning for him, but it is better than nothing," Kell replies, reaching into the pouch for a coin. At least, he hopes it will be enough. He has only done this once before, and he can't be certain it wasn't his love for Rhy that made the enchantment work. But he loves Sirius, too - if that's all it takes, then Kell can find his godson if he is still here.

"It could have had some meaning," Sirius argues lightly. "He's without a bit of his fortune in this place; every coin is important."

Of course, Sirius is also without his fortune, a fact he's been forced to face more than once. He's only lucky that Kieren has let him starve to death a time or two.

"I suppose you need to bleed for this," he adds with obvious reservation as Kell retrieves a coin from the little purse. His frown deepens into a faint scowl as the ever-present dread in his belly twists sharper, that familiar sting of guilt pressing in. "And I haven't even got a wand to patch you up this time."

"I am used to bleeding," says Kell with the ghost of a smile. It never troubled Maxim or Emira to bleed him - not for the first time, Kell considers how nice it is to have a friend who cares for him. "It will be fine."

He settles near the wall and draws out his silver knife, cutting a short but deep line in his forearm. Blood wells immediately, and Kell drags the coin through the streak of red, placing it against his palm which he presses to the wall.

"As Tascen," he says, pouring his magic into the coin, the wall, willing it to bend for him. It remains as sturdy as ever beneath his hand, and Kell exhales, funneling more, but nothing changes. He pauses for a moment, breathless, but doesn't dare to turn and behold Sirius' stricken face. This will work. It has to work.

"As Travars," he tries, in case Harry is in the other Darrow. "Please."

Kell's idea of fine and Sirius's were very different, he'd learned, but for once, Sirius doesn't argue. He'll not let Kell bleed himself dry, of course, but he supposes a little bit of blood shed in an effort to find Harry isn't so big a deal. Though he'd much rather it were his own.

As entranced as ever, Sirius watches Kell perform his magic, painting the coin in the crimson red of his own blood before pressing it to the wall.

Unlike nearly every time before, nothing at all happens. But Kell doesn't move, his shoulders hunched as he tries a different incantation next, one Sirius easily recognizes from numerous times previous.

And still nothing happens.

"The coin's not good enough," Sirius decides because he refuses to consider the alternative. "He has an owl. Hedwig. She's back at the little cottage Harry moved into a few months back. Could you pluck a feather and use that?"

Kell steps away from the wall, a prickle of sweat on his furrowed brow, but he nods. "Anything dear to him is best," he says, reaching for Sirius' arm. As loathe as he is to venture back with Sirius' uncomfortable travelling magic, whatever of his own he uses now he cannot use to find Harry.

He does not say so, but it is also easier to stand straight with the use of Sirius' arm.

"Take us there."

There's a trickle of sweat along Kell's temple and Sirius stares a moment as Kell holds onto him tight, using Sirius as a steadying force when he rights himself. It's clear this has put a strain on him already, but Sirius only nods quickly and slides his hand to Kell's wrist, holding tight as he Apparates them both the little nook Harry's made his home in the past few months.

Sirius has been here himself a dozen times since his return back from that other Darrow, since Kieren had told him of Harry's disappearance. It's looked the same every time, with not a single item displaced, no indication whatsoever that anyone's been here but himself.

And it's the same now.

Once again, Sirius feels his heart plummet even as he steps toward the little perch where Hedwig sits, watching them with some skepticism. "Hello there, Hedwig," he says as he reaches a hand out toward the beautiful creature. "Do you think you can help us find Harry?"

Kell follows him across the floor, resisting the urge to pop his ears after another magical journey. Sirius is intent on a large, white owl. She is lovely, but Kell's eyes drop to the bottom of the cage where a white feather has molted.

He takes it up and carries it to the wall, reopening the cut on his arm. The feather will work better. It has to, for Kell can't bear the thought of giving Sirius bad news.

"As Tascen," he says again, letting the wall take his weight as he pours everything he has into the enchantment. Again nothing happens, and Kell opens the wound even more, pressing the feather to the wall with the gash itself. "As Enose," he says, knees quivering. Find.

But his magic does not. "Sirius," Kell whispers.

Kell intercepts his steps toward Hedwig, grabbing a fallen feather from the bottom of her cage and using it for his magic before Sirius can so much as say another word.

Again, he speaks the incantation Sirius has heard frequently in the past along with another he has not. He waits, looking intently from the wall to Kell and back again, hoping for the sight of his godson to come tumbling through.

But there's nothing, not so much as a waver in the wall, not so much as a sound.

"Is it still not enough?" he says because that has to be the reason. "Perhaps a piece of clothing. Or a hair," he says, immediately looking about the room as though he might spot a fallen shirt or stray strand. His heart is pounding, dread climbing up his throat and Sirius swallows it down. "Or maybe we need to try in the other Darrow -- I've a feeling he's over there. Perhaps your magic can't push through the breach."

Either the feather is not enough, or Kell isn't. The latter thought renews the ache behind his eyes, and Kell squares his jaw, straightening despite the brief flecks of black in his vision.

"Take us to it," he says, holding out his hand again. Kell will not let Sirius lose Harry without doing everything he can to find him. If they cannot, it won't be because Kell was too weak. "We'll try on the other side."

Without a thought, Sirius nods as he grabs Kell's hand and spares barely another glance around them before Apparating directly into the other Darrow. They arrive in Kell's little room again, still tidier than it has any right to be and Sirius nods at the far wall, still fresh with Kell's blood from the first attempt.

"Please," he says, fear threatening to clog his throat, heart pounding in his ears. Kell is listing, his magic already taking its toll and, selfishly, Sirius can't bear the thought of not trying again.

Can't bear the thought that perhaps Kieren is right and Harry truly is gone.

Kell gives him a ragged nod and turns to the wall. His left arm is a ruin, and Kell turns to his right, hesitating a moment before he presses the knife down to slice deep. Blood doesn't well this time, it pours, and he presses the feather to the wall.

He can feel it now, a sturdiness beneath his touch that is more than wooden paneling. He can't reach through, because there is nothing to find, but Sirius' strangled plea haunts him. He tries again, and again, and the wall remains as solid and unforgiving as steel.

"Sirius," Kell exhales, fighting to stay upright, "He's not here. There's nothing."

Kell's arms are covered in blood, his hands pressed to the wall just as before only now with the feather clinging to his bloodied fingers. He whispers the incantation, presses against the unforgiving wall.

And still nothing changes.

When he speaks again, Sirius hears the words as though he's under water. His vision swims, knees threatening to buckle. Before him, Kell is a mess of blood, still swaying in place and surge of anger rises up inside him. After everything, after everything--

"No," he breathes with a quick shake of his head. Panic wraps tight around his throat and his heart pounds louder. "No, he's-- It's the magic. It's not strong enough. If only I had my bloody wand."

The words hit Kell like a slap, a hand his grieving friend never meant to form, Kell knows, but he snarls and rights himself, grabbing Sirius to press his hand to the bloody wall. He is not too weak, and neither is his magic.

"As Enose," says Kell, concentrating his mind on that slim little stick that means everything to Sirius, "As Travars."

The wall ripples and allows them through, and on the other side Kell finally topples, landing loose limbed next to a long, elegantly crafted stick of wood.

A look passes over Kell's face, an expression Sirius isn't certain he's ever seen on him before, as he grabs Sirius by the wrist and presses his hand to the wall. Smears of blood fill Sirius's vision as he hears Kell spit another incantation and the world suddenly tilts and ripples around them.

They spill into an alleyway, dropped hard onto wet pavement where upon lies Sirius's wand in a muddied puddle.

Or at least what remains of it.

"Merlin," Sirius breathes in horror, grabbing the upper half of what was once his wand, still etched in intricate runes, the core of it missing entirely. It feels impossibly light in his hand and not merely because it's been broken in half. His stomach twists, the dread in his belly boiling over into a wave of panic as he looks up.

Kell stands before him bloodied and worn, exhausted and shredded by his own magic. A magic that could bring them to Sirius's wand but not to Harry. Not for any failing of Kell's magic but simply... simply because there's no longer a Harry to be found.

The realization crashes down upon him, blood draining from his face as he stumbles back, crashing against the brick wall behind him and crumpling to the ground.

Kell drags himself up on an elbow, and any joy or justice he might have found in locating Sirius' wand is snuffed like a light when he sees Sirius' face. He crawls forward, crouched before Sirius with an expression of agony that can only touch on the pain on his friend's face, for his mind has made the same connection.

He could find the wand, because it is still here to find. Not so for Sirius' godson. "I'm sorry," he says. "Sirius, I'm sorry."

Sirius can only shake his head again, hands wrapping tight around his broken wand as the panic builds in his throat. It's a sensation he hasn't felt since he was last at Godric's Hollow, when he found the little bungalow aflame and James and Lily...

"No," he says, his voice trembling as he meets Kell's worried eyes. His friend is a bloodied mess, his arms in shreds because of Sirius and for no reason at all. Sirius shakes his head, hair falling into his watering eyes. "No, he's-- He can't be gone. Kell."

And yet he is. Kell knew it on that very first try, he just didn't want to admit it to himself. He'd wanted to save Sirius from this, but he can't. All he can do is sit next to him, shoulder to shoulder on the dirty alley floor.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "They say it happens all the time here, I - " Kell falters. "He couldn't have wanted to leave you."

Sirius is well aware it happens, he's heard talk of it himself from a number of sources. But it's not something he's let himself truly think about for some time. After all, if he's to leave this place, where would he go but to Azkaban? Even if it isn't a matter of choice, even if what Kell says is true, Sirius can't help but wonder. Harry at least has something to return to, a glorious future of sorts.

All Sirius has are steel bars and Dementors.

He opens his mouth in protest again, but the words stay stuck in his throat. Harry's presence here has long felt like a second chance, a redemption of sorts. And that's not fair, is it? Harry welcomed here with open arms and no ill feelings despite being perfectly entitled to more than a few. And what Sirius done but cling to him, to the boy whose parents he killed? Foolishly, Sirius had convinced himself that he could protect Harry here, that he could in some small way right his egregious wrong. But Harry's required no protection; at only eighteen years of age, he's ten times the man Sirius could ever hope to be.

It's difficult to swallow he notes, difficult to breathe and Sirius's chest hitches when he sees the utter mess Kell has made of himself. The mess Sirius had selfishly begged him to make. "Your arms," he whispers, nearly drowning now in guilt and grief both. "Kell, I can't-- without my wand, I can't even--"

"I'll heal," says Kell, for he will, albeit much more slowly without magic. He will bind his arms and apply his salves, and though it won't be a pleasant recuperation, he'll hardly die.

Kell looks at Sirius' wand, and broken though it is, he can understand the shape of it now - the hollow space meant to be a vessel to contain and focus magic. All that's missing is its center.

"What makes a core for these?"

Will he? Kell seems sure, but Sirius still can only stare at the shreds of skin, each cut made at Sirius's request.

And for nothing.

It takes him a moment to realize Kell's asked a question, and his gaze drifts to where his wand lies useless and broken upon the dirty ground, as gutted as Sirius himself. "Mine's dragon heartstring," he explains, his voice dulled now. Empty. "Not all are." It's not exactly replaceable is the thing. And still means next to nothing compared to Harry.

There are no dragons in Kell's world, but after this long in Darrow, he understands the term, what it means. "There are unicorns here," he says. "Other magical creatures."

It's no fix for the hole in Sirius' life where Harry should be, but it's something. "There's me. An Antari's blood is more rare than any dragon."

There are magical things of all sorts, Sirius knows. Kell isn't wrong. But no dragons so far as he's aware. And he's fairly sure there's no wand maker to recreate what he's lost.

Or perhaps there is and he's simply had no need to search them out until now.

"Yours?" Sirius replies then, eyes widening at the suggestion. There's no denying that Kell is a magical thing, and precious, but Sirius has never heard of using blood of any sort before, human or otherwise. He knows of hairs and feathers and heartstrings and he remembers at least reading about bone in one or two, but blood? How might such a thing alter his magic? Would it even work at all?

It's a compelling thought if nothing else.

"Do you know of any wand makers?" he asks, sitting up a bit straighter, the idea enough to momentarily pull him out of his melancholy before he quickly shakes his head. "No, of course not. Why would you? Harry's little shop might have books, though. And I know it has wands, just not my wand."