Chapter 16 Nine Sparrows
Nine Sparrows
Their feathers red-tinged
Nine Sparrows
That no longer sing
�You can�t kill fire, Mat.�
�Mahmoud!� his voice still had a rather hysterical tinge to it she didn�t like at all - which was probably why she hadn�t understood his last statement.
�What?�
�It�s not Mat,� he explained through set jaws, �Not really. It�s Mahmoud. Mahmoud Tarik.�
Hannah wished she could actually pronounce that. It sounded so beautiful the way he said it, even though his jaw was still set and his eyes pained. She put her hand in his and opened her mouth to try and say it, to correct herself.
�You don�t get it, do you?� he was almost yelling now, but she sat still and kept her hand firmly in his, �I�m different, I�m not like you; I don�t even belong here. I don�t bloody belong anywhere! I�m different.�
Hannah could not help the bubbly laugh that escaped her lips. He said the word different as if it was the end of everything. But he didn�t know that Hannah�s parents had been killed because they refused to be prejudiced against Muggles and Muggle-borns just because they were born �different�. �I knew you were too good-looking to be a Mat,� she said suddenly wondering if that stringy boy in Slytherin was called Mathew Nott or something else, �But I really can�t pronounce your name.�
�What?� he was looking at her like she was mad, �You don�t get it, do you? They think I killed my own parents.�
Hannah shuddered at the thought. There was no more laughter left in her as stared into those tortured eyes.
�They think I murdered the entire neighborhood,� he continued, �I�m on the run, I�m a wanted man.�
�But you didn�t,� she said firmly. That much was clear, �You�re not a murderer; you�re an artist!�
His eyes followed her arm as she motioned around the room and he was about to open his mouth in protest but she pushed him back to the armchair and set about making some soup with the meager provisions they had.
�Do you think it�s because you�re different?� she asked at length, sincerely wondering if Muggles had such prejudices as well.
�I suppose it made it more belivable for some people and it�s probably why I ran from the police without a second thought, but that�s the thing,� he replied, his voice quivering slightly, �I sort of wish it was prejudice so I could be angry at someone, but it was really the only logical conclusion they could come up with. I was the only one, except for a couple of ten year olds, whose body wasn�t found. And it�s really weird that there were no signs of forceful break-ins so they concluded that someone from the neighborhood must have helped the gang.�
�Well that doesn�t actually prove anything.� Except that they were clearly Wizards: Death Eaters, Hannah thought.
�I know,� he whispered, �I was at bloody school late doing some blasted project!� bitterness was seeping into his voice at the mention of school, she made a note never to mention it if she could help it. Not that she would want to, Hogwarts wasn�t exactly the easiest topic to broach with Muggles. �I wish I hadn�t been.�
�If you had been at home that day you wouldn�t have been able to save me.�
�Well maybe I would have been able to help them!�
Hannah looked straight at him with what she hoped was a piercing, McGonagall-like stare. �Do you honestly think that you could have done anything against whoever cold-bloodedly murdered all those people? Do you honestly think you could have done anything more than all of your neighbors put together?�
He settled back into the chair with a sigh. It was clear to Hannah that he wasn�t accepting this logic or letting go of the guilt. He still wished he could have been there to die trying to save his family. She turned away and pretended to busy herself with poking the fire, wishing that she could tell him how fast the Killing Curse was. He wouldn�t have had time to even think of fighting if Voldemort�s Death Eaters wanted to kill him. She swallowed hard and willed herself to stop thinking about it.
�
Mat- Mahmoud, he reminded himself, watched Hannah slip into the Hospital for her training session. Whatever it was that had happened to the girl before, she had been able to get past it and now she was doing something to help save lives.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned around. He would do something too; he would stop this madness even if he was still on the run himself. He was surprised that there were no more thoughts of revenge in his weary mind now. A gentle smile and a bubbly laugh made their way to the forefront of his mind. Perhaps it was because there was still justice in the world, he thought, and sense.
He finally reached the same antique shop he had seen that night and let himself inside. The old bell jingled but no one came out from the back so Mahmoud just looked around, hoping he would find what he was looking for.
He spotted it just as an old woman appeared behind the counter. It was almost the same size as the one the old man held and there were some half-faded designs in the handle. �Can I help you?�
�Yes,� he replied picking it up slowly, �I�d like to buy this please.�
�Ah yes,� she said, �Nothing seems to be working even on batteries anymore. Would you like some candles as well, dear? They�re less expensive than refilling this thing for when you�re at home.�
�Yes thank you ma�am.�
�You�re welcome dear, and here�s your change. Have a nice da- night!�
Mahmoud smiled grimly back at her and made his way back to the old abandoned house he now called home. Even though it was very near he could not stand to go back to his old neighborhood. It was a place of the dead now. He let himself in and set the lamp down on the table. It was dark in here and they had put out the fire in the fireplace so it was cold. He resisted the urge to relight the fire and picked the book up carefully.
The words rolled more easily off his tongue, he was getting accustomed to the language again and bit his lip as he remembered the disrespect and disinterest he had blatantly shown in his parent�s lessons. They had been very patient with him, and now he knew why.
Comforting warmth spread through his chest and he stood up and closed his eyes. He knew what he had to do now. Mahmoud picked up the carefully woven cloak and held it to his chest briefly muttering a small �thank you� before pulling it over his shoulders and lighting the lamp.
�
It flickered and did strange things in the light of the lamp and Mahmoud wondered, with a gasp, how the girl had managed to weave those fiery strings into the white material so that they only showed at certain angles.
The color was beautiful, he thought as he walked determinedly down the street. He tried to keep his eyes on his surroundings rather than the warm cloak he was wearing. It felt like something out of a book or legend. Thankfully, however, he was able to concentrate when the time came.
He wished the time had never come.
Screams echoed through his mind and he flew into action. He had never been an athlete, true, but his tall, slender body was good at flitting in and out through small spaces and his arms were strong enough to carry these tiny precious bundles that the murderers seemed to like to target.
Anger surged through his veins and his mind was filled with a blur of large, pleading eyes and fire and screams and taunting laughter. He kept his limbs moving, not sparing a second for weariness or any negative thought and he ran and jumped and ushered frightened people away from the scene. He didn�t miss the suspicious glare of the tall frazzled father or the worried eyes of the young teenager who gripped her bundle more tightly to her chest upon seeing his face, but there would be time to clench his jaw and bemoan the unfairness of the world later. Not that he hadn�t wasted enough time being ashamed and self-conscious about who he was before today.
There were others fighting the black-clad lunatics, he knew, and he wasn�t interested in that sort of thing, so he stuck firmly to getting the bewildered people out. The one thing that puzzled him, though, was that they tended to jump nervously when he made a sudden movement or yelled out. He had been a lot of things in his short life, but frightening had never been one of them.
When the black-clad men disappeared and everyone hurried home trying to avoid the foolish reporters and the frazzled police, Mahmoud walked past the ambulance and suddenly remembered Hannah. He would only make it in time to walk her home if he headed towards the hospital now.
�Sir,� a young woman�s voice stopped him in his tracks, �Would you like a drink of water or something before you leave?�
�No thanks,� he said slowly before continuing on his way. He suppressed a stream of silent curses that begged to be let out as he wondered how on earth this could possibly be half-past noon in the busiest part of town. The world truly was messed up and he wouldn�t dwell on the wanted signs plastered all over the buildings around him. He could keep himself out of the police�s clutches; that was no problem, he just wished he could have been able to smile at the young nurse and accept the blasted cup of water rather than walking off like that. But she wouldn�t even have wanted the smile if she had seen his face.
Hannah was standing by the door, smiling, and waiting for him. She let out a small gasp when she saw him and he thought it must have been the cloak.
�You wore it?� she said disbelievingly when he drew close enough to hear.
�Thank you!�
She put her arm hesitantly though his and they walked for a few minutes in silence. Mahmoud broke it when he felt her small shiver. �You should make one for yourself too, it�s very warm.�
He wrapped the material around her shoulders with the arm that wasn�t holding the lamp and they continued on their way.
�Would you let me come with you if I did?�
He wasn�t surprised; not really, he just wished she could have waited a few days. He wished she could have let him keep up the illusion that he was protecting her, protecting someone, for a few more days.
�Would you listen if I said no?�
She didn�t respond, but the answer was quite obvious and he huffed at her determined expression. She laughed.
�It�s called the �don�t-mess-with-this-badger look���
�I see,� he said tightly, but she only laughed more and her shoulders shook with mirth.
That mirth was soon replaced by horror as they both stared at the scene before them. It wasn�t a battle with screams and flames and chaos, it was much, much worse. There were six of the bloody bastards and the small shivering girl didn�t stand a chance. She never had. Mahmoud jumped into action, but a small hand held him back.
�Wait, Ma�wait!�
She threw the cloak back around his shoulders and told him to be careful in a barely audible whisper.
�Alright,� he said, patiently waiting for her to clasp the thing in place, �But you�ve got to stop calling me Ma, because I�m not your mother.�
He didn�t wait to see her reaction and flew towards the group. His movements were quick and he would have to rely on that because there was no way he could stand against one of them in a test of strength let alone all six. He hit one of them on the back of the head as hard as he could, knocking him out and then swerved around quickly and came face to face with the others.
The girl was backing up slowly behind him, but her movements were too slow. She would never be able to escape like this; he wondered how much they had hurt her before his arrival.
He raised the lamp higher and swung his fist at the nearest one as hard as he could. It barely grazed the man�s cheek, but they all seemed to be holding back for some reason. He didn�t question his luck. Quickly stooping down he pulled the girl into his arms and jumped back to his feet. The lamp swayed dangerously in his hand and their eyes mirrored fear.
Mahmoud ran for his life. For all their lives. He shoved Hannah roughly as he passed her by and they flew quickly as the men began shouting from behind them. Hannah suddenly lagged behind and he turned around as he heard her shout hoarsely.
Whether it was the way his cloak fanned out behind him, looking for all the world like it was on fire, or Hannah�s oddly hoarse voice as she stood there staring at the attackers with her back to him, or a combination of the two, Mahmoud would never know, but something made the men suddenly turn tail and run.
They stood there for a while and then Hannah turned back to him and they continued to run to the hospital. The girl in his arms was whimpering in pain and she was bleeding very badly.
They ran as quickly as they could. Hannah reassured him that no one else would have been able to run faster, but the doctor soon came out of the room and shook her head sadly. Mahmoud silenced Hannah with a wave of his hand and made his way slowly out of the hospital with a bent head. The cloak looked grey now and it hung limply off his shoulders as they made their way quietly in the dark. His voice was laced with grief and Hannah barely caught his whispered words.
�That�s nine.�
