Sirius

Sirius stared solemnly at the canopy above his bed, fingers lazily running over the wooden handle of his newly-acquired wand. Waiting, as usual, for his parents to call him to attention, he had his new books packed in his new trunk with his new robes and his new potions kit. His new Owl sitting in his new cage, and his new year waiting ahead of him. Everything a young wizard could want to have, going into his first year of magical education at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was presented to this young boy of eleven except one thing. . . friends.

The door creaked ever so slightly, accompanied by light breathing. Sirius raised his wand and muttered "Flipendo". The door slammed back with a thump and his brother, Regulus, hit the rug outside with an equally dead-wood sounding impact.

"Master Regulus, are you alright?" came a wheezy voice from outside the door.

"Yes, Kreacher. Thank you, I'm fine." Muttered the young boy.

"Perhaps Kreacher should fetch master Sirius." Wheezed the elf, "And we shall see if he jinxes the door again."

The door banged open and Sirius flew from his bed and hit the floor with a slightly more resounding 'thump' than his brother had produced, "Mistress Black requests you join her in the dining room for breakfast before you depart."

Sirius shouldered Regulus as he walked by, trying to ignore the smirk and the giggles bubbling from his baby brother, grumbling something about house-elves and the day Kreacher gets to join his predecessors on the wall.

"Ah, Sirius," came the drawl of master Black's voice, " it seems even a day cannot pass without you breaking yet another wizarding law." Sirius noticed Kreacher slowly bowing into a corner with a smirk on his face to rival Regulus'. "Keep up like this, and we can hope, at least, you get a cell with a view in Azkaban."

Regulus entered the kitchen, clearly having heard his father's comment, looking sickeningly cherubic. "Toast, to accompany your eggs, young master Regulus?" asked Kreacher, presenting a tray.

Sirius reached for a piece, and pulled his wand again when Kreacher overbalanced and spilled the toast he was reaching for to the floor. "Deepest apologies," Cried the elf, "Kreacher will punish himself!" But Sirius swore he saw the elf wink to Regulus before he took his leave.

The glares from his mother and father combined were enough to lower Sirius' wand as effectively as any Expelliarmus spell could have. "Did it on purpose," mumbled Sirius, "Not like he wont beat himself."

"The Hogwarts Express will be leaving from Kings Cross Station in just over an hour," said Mistress black, icily. "We expect you to be on it, and are sending Kreacher along with you to assure you will be."

"Yes, mother." Said Sirius. He hadn't really expected his parents to accompany him, after sending him to Diagon alley with a servant and a Gringotts key to buy his own school supplies he could only assume as much attention would be given to the actual departure of their first-born-son for almost a years time, out of the country.

"You're expected to write," Drawled his father.

"Once a month, with your marks." Added his mother.

"And you are invited back for the holiday breaks," completed his father. Icy, meaningless. Sirius, at eleven years old, was used to this.

As he walked out from number Twelve Grimmauld Place into the sunlight street, accompanied by a well disguised Kreacher (to a muggle: in a suit and a bowler, with the right magic, he almost looked like an old man. . . perhaps an uncle or grandfather to the pale young boy he accompanied), Sirius held to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find some form of friendship at school.

He raised his wand, and a large Purple bus skidded to a hault in-front of him. "Kings Cross station" He mumbled, and with a snap Kreacher had levitated his luggage on-board and payed in full from a pouch on his side.

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