Chapter One

Sirius

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A/N: First chapter. This is about twice as long as the other chapters, so don't be put off by the length of this one. Hope everyone enjoys :)

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The first day of term, I missed the Hogwarts Express because I was busy killing my brother.

It started in the morning, when he had the bathroom on the third floor, and I wanted the bathroom on the third floor, and he wouldn't let me have it. So I blasted the door off its hinges because I was seventeen and I could do whatever the hell I wanted with my wand, no euphemisms intended.

Regulus yelped, and I ducked to watch him through the splintery hole in the door as he staggered backwards, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, eyes rolling in his head.

"I'll get you, you little bastard," he spat through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Watch your language, kid."

"You'd better watch your head." He picked up a piece of the bath, aimed it at me. I flicked it away with my wand, and sent it sailing into a long framed portrait of great-grandfather someone-or-other. It split the canvas with a pleasant tearing sound.

"You're in for it now" hissed Regulus, stepping towards me. "When Mother finds out that you sliced up…"

"I think I was in for it from the moment I exploded the bathroom" I pointed out reasonably.

Regulus eyed me intently through the gaping door. One black eyebrow was raised, his hair like mine only shorter; black like our name and as messy as the path of blood our family trails behind it. One year younger, shorter, less good looking (of course). Slytherin. How awful.

"Mother!" He lurched forward, ducked through the gap and shouldered past me, heading for the stairs.

I let him go. While he hurried up to the top floor where mother rested in her dark bedroom, no doubt waiting for one of us to appear and explain the latest damage to the Noble House of Black, I went into the bathroom, squeezed toothpaste onto my toothbrush, and wished to god that I had an ensuite. There were enough bathrooms in the house for someone to move one around and stick it on the end of my room, and it was a mystery as to why no one had done that yet. I put it on my to-do list for over Christmas. If I could be bothered to come back.

Mother arrived exactly one and a half minutes later. She was still in her nightdress, long maroon dressing gown pulled tight over her hips, face waxen and stiff. Her lips formed one straight line, and they barely parted as she addressed me in her clipped, almost inaudible voice.

"What is going on?"

I spat into the cracked sink. "Regulus was taking too long in the bathroom," I explained.

"I want this put right, Sirius."

I'd heard it said that mother spoke quietly only so that the people she was addressing would have to listen extra carefully, which was certainly a good observation. Even I felt myself stepping closer to her, away from the sink, just to make sure I didn't miss anything important.

"Fine then," I said.

She didn't blink. "You have ten minutes. Farrow will leave in the car at that time, taking your brother with him, and you will not go to Hogwarts this year."

I stared at her.

"I am not joking," she continued. "If you think you can get away with this, you're wrong. I think you've forgotten, Sirius, that you're not in the sordid company of your little Gryffindor friends here. You're at the house of your ancestors, and your behaviour this summer has been completely unacceptable. If you miss the car, you're not going to Hogwarts this year. I have connections, you know I'll make it happen."

With that, she turned sharply, and left through the open door, stepping over the shards of the bath with long, pale, blue-veined feet.

After she'd gone, I surveyed the mess of the bathroom; the chunks of porcelain like huge icebergs, the cracked mirror, the white dust still settling over everything. Regulus poked his head round the door, smirking.

"You've done it now," he said.

"Piss off," I said, flicking my wand and sending the part of the door that was left slamming back into his face. He backed off with a muffled "oomph."

I missed the car, anyway. So there was no point in even trying to tidy the bathroom. I stood on the empty road next to my bags, and when I turned back to the front door, I found myself locked out, and no matter how hard I blasted it and how loud I yelled, no body came. That was always the story, in my family.

Luckily, I'm a Black, and Blacks always find a way. Well, sometimes they just find the Knight Bus, but it's the same thing, really.

So not the best start to the year. But, I figured, it was best to set the bar low; at least then I'd have something to improve on. I was three hours late for school, I'd broken the house and disgraced my family. But things couldn't get worse from here on in, could they? I couldn't wait to find out.

…

I arrived at Hogwarts three hours late. Some old lady on the bus needed to stop off at Germany. They dropped me off at the gates and I walked all the way up the drive, levitating my trunk ahead of me. It was fully dark now, and the night smelt like smoke, and the sharp, cold pinch which comes in early autumn. A waning moon was coming up above the trees. It would be old Moony's time of the month soon, and my stomach leapt at the thought. Oh, to be running through the woods again with my three best friends, the trees creaking above us and James snorting sweetly in my ear. I spent most of the summer with James and Peter at James's house, lying around in the garden and getting an awful sunburn, but I hadn't seen Remus for about a million years. Which sucked. I decided to creep into his bed when he was half asleep that night and thinking I wasn't going to turn up, just to give him a little surprise. Again, not a euphemism.

I walked across the empty courtyard, coughing loudly to break that weird silence that falls over the school when there are no kids about, and it's night, and then I pushed open the door and headed upstairs to the Gryffindor common room. There was no one about. The feast was over and the corridors were dark, filled with echoes and pale light from the moon outside. My trunk scraped along the floor every time my concentration lagged, making a long, loud scraping sound on the stone tiles, like someone was following me with a wooden leg.

I heard the kids before I saw them. The hum of male voices coming from round the corner, the words impossible to make out but the tone unmistakable. They were in my line of sight within a moment, standing in front of the Gryffindor portrait hole, their wands raised and illuminated, speaking in furious whispers, scuffling against something. Someone. I stepped closer.

The kids, there were four of them, were vaguely familiar, and I realised with a nebulous sense of disgust that they were fifth year Gryffindors, and they were beating the hell out of a eleven-year-old. Well, in reality, they were only knocking him about a bit, but it wasn't great, because the kid was crying, and his stuff was scattered all over the floor.

It wasn't even like turning round and pretending I hadn't seen was an option, because that's just not what I do. Instead, I decided to exercise a bit of my new-found seventh year power, and remove these hooligans from the poor youth.

"What are you doing with the kid?" I said, striding forward with my arms folded across my chest. The tallest of them was a good half-head smaller than me, which felt alright. As soon as they heard me speak, the boys leapt to attention like someone had licked them with a whip, wands raised in front of their faces, mouths curled into threatening little sneers. Seriously adorable.

"What does is look like?" the tallest one hissed. Tall kid was obviously the ring leader, and when he spoke, a ripple of mirth spread through the group. I couldn't quite make out his face in the darkness, but I knew he'd know me; I wasn't exactly the sort of person who you might overlook. I let my trunk come to rest on the ground next to me, and let my wand arm hang casually at my side, loose and ready to move. Inwardly, I grinned. This was just too good.

"It looks to me like you're beating up a nine-year-old, but whatever" I replied, shrugging. Tall kid narrowed his eyes.

"He's not bloody nine you idiot. He couldn't be at this school if he was bloody nine."

"That's pretty good" I said, casually flicking a spot of dust from the sleeve of my black-and-white stripped jacket. "I'm kind of astounded it came from your brain. Now let him go, and I'll forget this ever happened."

All trace of a grin had dropped from the faces of tall kid and his crew. The shadows under their eyes and their noses glared in the wandlight, their teeth black in the gaping holes of their mouths. The corridor was heavy with darkness, and I vaguely wondered how I would get into the common room tonight, if I didn't know the password. I supposed I'd have to contact James through some form of telekinesis. Or maybe just throw stones at his window. Tall kid's grip still hadn't loosened on the boy's collar.

"Why is it even your problem? And what's with all the sarcasm?" His voice dropped a little lower as he said this, and I could see his fingers twitch a little at his side. But he didn't want to make a move on me until he really has to; that much was obvious. Although it was about four-to-one, age-based hierarchy would still win out. It's like with a wolf-pack; the Alpha wolves are generally the elders. When you're an Alpha wolf, you're allowed to bite the babies and bury them in the snow, but no one does that to you. Age brings with it a sort of sacred preservation and innate respect, which hovers around you no matter how sharp your wit, or brave your will. Even Remus would stand a chance against these thugs.

"I'm not sarcastic" I replied. Leaning against the wall, I twirled a lock of hair idly around my finger. "This is just my body's natural way of dealing with your stupidity."

I could tell I'd done it with that one. Tall kid dropped the boy, who stumbled a little and then bolted down the corridor to safety, and he then began to advance on me, as did his little group of idiots who closed together to form a tight-shouldered semi-circle.

Now, I don't mind admitting that I wasn't really one for physical fights. I'd go for a verbal one at any time, because I knew I'd invariably win it, but I'd never really fancied a black-eye or a split lip, or a tentacle growing out of my head. So I would usually take what some might call "the coward's way out," but what I called "being damn smart." In this case, it was certainly very, very damn smart. One of my best in a long time, I would have said. Taking a deep lungful of air, I gathered one last gloating look at the boys' furious little faces. Before driving my arm backwards with full-force into a suit of armour, which was standing conveniently behind me against the wall.

There are very few personal problems which cannot be solved by the suitable application of loud noise and chaos. The boys had dispersed in seconds, panicked and flapping like a flock of geese, and I was left alone in the corridor with the armour still spinning and clanging around me, the sound of it echoing around the corridor. I took some time out to enjoy my handiwork, trying to decide whether it was one of those things which is good enough to tell people about, or whether the trouble I'd invariably get into eclipsed the pride of the achievement. It took me less than a second to decide upon the latter, and then it took me another half second to realise that in that case, I should really be moving before I was found, marinating in my own guilt, by the offending suit of armour. The Gryffindor common room was already beginning to stir; I could feel it even though I couldn't hear it yet. Soon, bleary-eyed teenagers would begin to spill out of the portrait hole, and, even more worryingly, teachers would appear around corners and from cracks in the walls. So I turned, ran a few steps, and crashed headfirst into a boy.

Seventh year, medium height, oversized jumper, small shoulders. Weird fringe. Obviously new, because if he wasn't I would have remembered his face. And right then, it looked as though he'd seen everything. He was staring at me with one eyebrow raised, his head cocked on one side, his grey eyes made bright by the wandlight assessing me coolly.

I considered my options. My best bet in situations like these is often to charm myself out of it, but I had perhaps two and a half more seconds before I was discovered. All the same, I figured, it was worth a shot.

"Well hi there. I'm Sirius Black; I don't think we've ever met. Now listen, what you've just witnessed here may look bad, but in all honesty, I…"

He didn't give me time to finish. I hate it when people do that. But in reality, I suppose it was a good thing, because up in the common room, doors were opening, people were coming, and footsteps were resounding loudly down a nearby corridor. And it was also a good thing, because from the moment that Kit Conrad grabbed my hand and whisper-yelled 'run' in my ear, I knew that he was on my side. And I might not have got that otherwise.

…

So the Gryffindors didn't get much sleep that night, which no one found very fun.

It was pretty fun though; after waiting a few minutes with Kit in a broom cupboard three corridors down, I reappeared and joined the rest of the Gryffindor throng which had congregated around the fallen suit of armour, oohed, ahhed and speculated earnestly for a bit, and when Professor McGoogly turned up, I slipped through the open portrait hole and laughed with James and Peter for at least half an hour, while Remus lay with his head under a pillow, all bunched up under his blanket. As for Kit, he disappeared off to his own corridor after explaining to me that he was in a different house. I took it for granted that he'd be a Ravenclaw; first impressions had been a little hasty, but he seemed like the quiet, brooding type; not fluffy enough to be in Hufflepuff and not evil enough to be in Slytherin. So it was with some surprise when I saw him at breakfast the following morning, seated on the table on the far left of the Great Hall, wearing a green and silver striped tie.

"You're in Slytherin?" I asked incredulously as we stood together outside the potions room. He'd left early from breakfast, and I had followed him. Consequently, I discovered we were both in the same potions class, and also what it was like to be on time for a lesson. "You? In Slytherin?"

Kit nodded, his mouth twitching slightly. "Why? Where'd you think I'd be?"

"I don't know, like, somewhere not crappy? A nice respectable Ravenclaw? Or a cuddly Hufflepuff?"

He clacked his teeth at me in a brief smile. "I'm certainly not cuddly. And I'm not sure about respectable, either."

"My brother's in Slytherin." I kicked behind me at the wall I was leaning on. "Do you know Regulus Black? In sixth year?"

"Yes, actually. I've seen him."

"Okay. Well, stay away from him. And his girlfriend, Margo, she's no good. And Walter and Sammy and Peggo… Bastian too. I can make you a list, if you want?"

Kit declined with a polite flicker of his eyes. We stood in silence for a while, both of us thinking.

"Last night was good though," I said finally. "Thanks for that."

"No problem," Kit replied.

"So where did you come from all of a sudden? I mean, not last night, but in general. I've never seen you before."

"Me and my family moved here from Australia. Charlie got a job in England and we just had to go."

"Who's Charlie?"

"My adopted dad."

"Oh. So you're adopted then." It was one of those things which Remus would smack me round the head for, saying I was being tactless, but I was only setting the record straight. You needed too, with those Slytherins.

"Yeah." He didn't look away.

"Alright then. And why don't you have an Australian accent?"

"Because I lived in England until I was nine. Then I moved to Australia. Now I'm back."

"I see." I stroked my beard. Well, my almost-beard.

Kit grinned tentatively. "You're a nosy bastard, if you don't mind me saying," he said.

"I don't mind at all," I replied amicably.

The rest of the class arrived gradually, and I listened with vague amusement to the various mutterings about the mysterious goings-on outside the Gryffindor common room the previous night. Unfortunately, Remus didn't share my enthusiasm for the deed. He was the sort of person who seemed to like going to lessons, and he said he was mad because I made him too tired to concentrate. He said he knew it was me, even before I'd told him, James and Peter back in the dormitory.

"How could you tell?" I wined, pawing at his shoulder. He tossed a lock of red-brown hair off his forehead and narrowed his eyes.

"Because you were doing that face which means you've done something bad. The one that makes you look like you're some kind of nodding dog in the back window of a muggle car."

"I was going more for wise old sage…"

"Well, you didn't pull it off."

Remus and I argued most days, but that was why he was such good fun. I grinned, and nudged Kit. We were sitting in potions on a desk at the back, with a cauldron between us and the instructions for a fire-belly draught we were meant to be brewing. Normally it was just me and Remus - James and Peter didn't do Potions – but today, I'd let Kit join us, just to show him a bit of Gryffindor chivalry. Anyway, he might bring some extra talent to the table. Not that we were getting much work done. Remus was too busy being angry.

"I can't believe you Sirius" he said. He was pressed right up against his chair like he was somehow accentuating his point by being extra straight. His arms were crossed and his teeth flashed every now and then from under his taught lips. "It's the first day of school, and already you've knocked over everything and caused absolute chaos." I shushed him quickly, and attempted to smother him with my hand. Remus was having none of it. He shoved me back and I land painfully on my coccyx.

"So you're a bit tired. I don't get what's so bad about that" I said, rubbing my butt dolefully.

"I wanted to make a good start. Because, in case you hadn't noticed, there are some of us around who actually want to get good NEWT results this year. Just because you're not one of them, it doesn't mean you're allowed to disadvantage others."

Kit had been watching the exchange with quiet amused eyes which flickered from my face to his like he was watching a tennis match. He had been like that all lesson; watching everyone and taking it all in, as if he was trying to store up enough information in his database before he figured out how he was going to play it. He was like a burnished shell you could find down at the beach, all closed up but temptingly so; like the sort of closed up where you want to shove a penknife in him and prise him open. He spoke now though, in a low, static voice which I had to strain to hear over the noise of the classroom.

"But if you think Remus," he said, "he saved a little kid. Sure, it kind of wasn't the best way of handling things, but it was all for the greater good." Remus sort of shrank a bit when he rememberd he was there. He didn't like to look angry in front of strangers.

"Still" he continued a little more restrainedly "Sirius could have resolved it in another way. For one thing, he could have got a teacher."

Kit and I exchanged glances. We both knew what that meant.

I let Remus finish. He has this thing where he thinks he's right a lot of the time, and the best thing to do in those situations is to just let him get it out of his system. I didn't stop thinking about Kit all through the rest of the lesson, and then after lessons had finished whilst doing my homework, and eating my dinner and brushing my teeth. He was different; different and interesting. I couldn't quite pinpoint it at the time, but there was something about Kit - something which told me that this year was going to be very interesting indeed.