For the Sake of Power

I slept under the stony bed while turned into my animagus form. Ten bloody years in this place. I would have never thought Dumbledore would abandon me like a lousy vagrant, but he did, the old meddlesome bastard.

Time lost all meaning in this place. The days melded into one gigantic mess of despair, hate, and sadness.

Memories of the night haunted still haunted me. They always returned, even on the off-hours between feedings. Today would be no different. When would they come?

'Never'

I barked, but denial made its way through in the sound.

Those bloody liars. They used us and then turned on us as they pleased. James–

'You let them do it, fool. You could have saved them. You're a coward and—'

Shut up. My breathing quickened, and I heard the noises again. They were coming.

If only I could go back. I'd kill the rat; the bloody rat got away.

A feral growl escaped my throat, but it quieted once I felt the coldness approaching. It paid to not get noticed here.

Let them feed on the others first. They deserved it.

'Yes.'

The gate opened, and the dementor peaked inside. What usually followed was the hungry gaze and the surge of painful memories. This time, however, the creature had a strange posture. It was almost as if the thing wasn't really here, or it wasn't a dementor. It looked at me, staying still for merely a moment, until it vanished back into the corridors.

Did it just leave the door open?

'Run!'

I dashed through the space and towards the exit.

The way was clear, and the outer world awaited. I'd be a free man again.

The cell next to mine had a man with dead eyes and a deathly stiff mouth, still open as if screaming in horror. Why would they kill the inmates? Who ordered this?

'Run, you fool.'

The scenery on the rocks outside was much of the same. A rogue dementor had taken to cleaning house, and the others were trying to stop it. I was nearly there.

"Sirius Black."

I turned around and saw a small child with large ears.

"I have some questions for you."

Darkness consumed me.

###

"Wakey wakey doggy."

The shaggy man shivered under the ice-cold waters. He shook the stiffness from his limbs and looked around the room. My hideout mark two was much more convenient than the last, and I'd not soil it.

His eyes focused on me. The untrimmed eyebrows did a dance until they settled on general confusion.

"What?"

His mouth hung open, and I gathered he didn't understand the situation. I snapped my fingers, conjuring the previously prepared meal from my quarters, and I levitated the food in front of him.

He eyed the pound of cow, gravy, and mashed potatoes with apprehension, until his belly won over his rational mind. He set to demolishing the meal. I watched and waited in silence.

A burp signaled him finishing.

"That will probably make your stomach hurt, but I couldn't wait for answers. Tell me about the events of Halloween 1981."

His eyes looked distant for a second, until he said, "I failed. They died because of me."

"Are you Harry Potter's godfather?"

"Harry," the man said with barely a whisper.

Tears came from his eyes, and he sunk his head into his arms. I could see him crying, and judging from the reactions, he was indeed in the same position as canon Sirius.

I guess in this time line Neville got a visit from Voldemort while Potters got the rest of the gang.

"Are you going after Pettigrew?"

He looked at me from under the unkempt hair, and the rage reflecting in his eyes surprised even me. He must have wallowed in this for a decade.

"I'll take that as a yes. Do you think that's wise?"

"I'll kill him for what he did," he shouted.

His voice cracked at the end, and I could see the signs of madness in those gray eyes.

"You should think about this with reason, not with emotion. You can still be a godfather to Harry. But I'm not a fucking therapist, so I can't help you there."

"Take the advice, though. More than one life can improve if you don't go after the traitor. Let me bring him to justice, and you'll get your life back. He will die, having his soul devoured."

I could see the gears turning in his head. A near minute later he nodded, but those gray eyes never left my form. Whatever his plan was, was for him alone. I'd not give a damn about his fate. He wasn't my responsibility, but he wasn't a bad guy either, so I wouldn't kill him.

"Oh, by the way. Can you promise me your firstborn?"

He stared at me for a while until he barked out a hollow laugh.

"I'm sterile."

"It doesn't matter if you ever spawn a kid, just promise it to me."

"Why?"

"Humor me. What can you lose?"

"Only my firstborn," he mumbled, but I don't think he meant for me to hear it.

"Alright. I, Sirius Black, promise my firstborn to–" he ceased and looked at me "–Who are you, anyway?"

"Call me Dobby."

"–to Dobby."

Mission four completed. Reward: Virility x 2.

I felt a tingle down between my legs, but nothing else happened.

"Thank you."

As I finished the words, I cast a silent stunner at him.

The man dropped like a stone. I took him to the woods near a village closest to the hideout. He would figure out his way from there.

###

The weekly countdown timer still had about five days until reset. I had three more missions left to complete.

Mission Five: Get someone to call you trash, then make them give you face.

Mission Six: Say the words "You're courting death" to someone.

Mission Seven: Have seven people exclaim their awe of your performance in a single setting.

I rubbed my jaw, thinking of a solution to the remaining missions. If I had someone I could challenge, I could do the first mission. I could use confounded spectators to exclaim their awe. But first, who should I challenge?

Blood magic was banned in Britain. If it wasn't, I'd have the perfect way to clear the first mission. Still, by the looks of things, I was on the fast track to power, and these bureaucratic fuckers could shove their rules up their asses.

I couldn't manage eight people under imperius, but I could do one. I hummed. This called for a public show, and the best place for it was in Diagon Alley.

It was still early in the morning, so there weren't many people walking about. I select a few reputable but gullible-looking individuals who'd be my cheerleaders, and then I began the search for my unwitting challenger.

The Daily Prophet in the shop window had a striking headline. My previous exploits were all over the front page. The investigators, however, didn't figure out it was a third party. Instead, they blamed my dementor.

Fudge blamed Sirius Black, the already infamous mass-murderer, for the killing spree. Apparently, in his eyes, Black bewitched the dementor to attack and kill everyone. I stopped reading after the first few paragraphs. They could write endless tripe, but no one asked the relevant questions; things like "How did it take him ten years to do it?" or "Did he shake his dashing hair, flutter his eyes, and charm the creatures?"

I snorted, reading the utter make belief shit.

Someone's boot hit me in the thigh.

"Who the fuck?" I said while I went for a tumble.

I didn't notice the guy being so engrossed in reading. It was a middle-aged man dressed in fine clothes. He walked past me with a sneer worthy of a Malfoy.

"Elves walking around without invisibility. What's this world coming to? It should be beaten for such insolence."

"Hey you, uppity maggot with the stick up his ass."

The man turned around, and his eyes narrowed to slits. I smirked.

"You're courting death, old man. I challenge you to a duel."

Mission Seven completed. Reward: The illusive young master robes.

The baby blue robes began materializing around my body. I waved my arms around like I was conjuring it from thin air. It was quite the show.

The whole garb looked like flowing water. It reflected light, making me look akin to a chameleon. It wasn't my style really, but I'd take it for now.

Before he came out of his stupor and answer me, I confounded him to have a predisposition for certain words.

"Someone of my prestige wouldn't take a challenge from trash. Denied."

"Are you scared I'll win, then take your woman and have my way with her?"

The man paused, and his face looked like it was granite. I could see murder in his careful eyes. He despised my existence, and he felt insulted by my challenge. This was going to be good. I checked my minions. They were in place.

"I accept," he said.

He mumbled something to his companions. All I heard were the promises of torture and humiliation. He was going to put me in my place, apparently.

The alley wasn't a place for duels, and it was likely once the fight began, the magical authorities would be all over it. I didn't care, but I needed the rewards for my next mission.

We did the official introduction, took our positions, and got ready. Some passerby, a man of dueling experience, directed things from the side. He laid down the rules of the fight, which boiled down to no unforgivables.

"Duelers ready?"

The man nodded, and so did I. He began the fight with a sweeping gesture, and some half muttered words. I saw the purple light coming at me. I didn't know what it was, so I dodged.

My wand cut into my skin, drawing blood. I brought it out and began the strange mutterings for the only magic I'd mastered.

The blood formed into a dozen impossibly sharp daggers and converged on the man. He blasted the ground and transfigured it into a stone wall, but he didn't account for my control of the daggers. With nothing but sheer intent, I curved their paths around the obstacles and back on track towards their target.

"Is that blood magic? Such talent!" said a minion.

"Oh my, such power!" said minion two.

"Is this the greatest elf in the world? Yes!" said the third one.

At least four daggers pierced his torso, going deep into his chest. Two of them must have pierced his lungs or heart, as he stopped breathing almost immediately in favor of coughing blood. The rest of my temporary minions exclaimed their nonsense while everyone else watched the man struggle to live.

With a devilish smile, I commanded his gushing blood to form a noose and wrap around his throat. What small strength and mental faculties he still possessed allowed him to understand the situation. I spotted the signs of despair. He knew he was going to die, and it mattered fuck all now who or what did the killing.

His life ended with a gurgling breath and the devastating shriek of his female companion. There was his second, a portly fellow, who stepped up to fight, but he gave up immediately. I guess he wasn't one for dying to keep his pride.

I'd already abandoned the scene by the time the spectators turned my way, and now their post-fight clamoring threatened to deafen everyone. Even the goblins had to act to maintain order at their bank's steps.

Mission Six completed. Reward: Charisma x2.

The other mission failed because the man died. It was becoming imperative that I learned to control my magic or learn something less deadly.

I fled to the apparition point and went to my hideout. There, I conjured a mirror.

Once again, the charisma multiplication had changed me. My ears were sleeker and more refined, looking less like those of a bat, and more like the Elven ears from the Lord of the Rings. I no longer had a bald head, but a small tuft of brown hair. It would grow, or so I hoped. My fingers and legs once again shrunk, becoming better proportioned to the rest of my body. And last, I'd gained another two feet of height. Now, I looked more like a normal man of six feet, albeit one with elf ears. As a side note of the refining, my face also changed.

"Fuck. I'm becoming a pretty boy, ain't I?" I said while inspecting my form in the mirror.

Charisma would not cut it if I wanted to do the Malfoy manor raid. For that, I needed more power and more knowledge. I had money, courtesy of Lucius' purse, and I knew where to get books. Knockturn Alley, here I come.