Disclaimer: JK Rowling is great! And she made up this whole universe. And the song is Garth Brooks, "Do What You Gotta Do."
Someday they're going to call your name
They'll come looking for someone to blame
What's your name, boy?
Hey, you just tell 'em true
'Cause they can't take the truth from you
Do what you gotta do.
Well, they'll call you a hero
Or a traitor
But you'll find out
Sooner or later
Nobody in this world is gonna do it for you
Do what you gotta do.
Escape from the House of Black
Sirius Black stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express as it zoomed south, but was so unfocused on what he was seeing that he couldn't have even said what the weather was doing. His friends were talking amongst themselves, apparently without noticing his disinterest. Suddenly he heard his name.
"…didn't he, Padfoot?" came James Potter's voice, laughing.
"Huh?" Sirius blinked and looked around at his three best friends.
"Weren't you listening?" asked James, trying not to sound hurt.
"I was thinking, Prongs," Sirius answered.
"You've been thinking too much lately. It's not like you."
Peter Pettigrew nodded in agreement; Remus Lupin simply looked from James to Sirius, who shrugged dismissively.
"What were you saying?" he asked, changing the subject off of himself.
"Oh… We were just talking about the OWLs. Remember the look on old Snivelly's face when I dropped him out of the air, when we were messing around after the Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? After we were spinning him around?"
This humourous image popped into Sirius' head, and he let out a laugh like a bark.
"That was priceless!" he said with a grin. "He looked like he was gonna be sick as a pig!"
"A greasy pig," corrected James, as Peter laughed enthusiastically.
"It's a good thing the bell rang, though," Remus pointed out. "He was spitting mad and he was going to do something to you both."
"If we'd given him a chance," agreed Sirius. "But we're not that stupid, now are we?"
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"
They all laughed, but an awkward silence fell as the sound of it died away. Peter began to chew on his nails, Remus buried his nose in a textbook, and James peered out of the carriage with his wand in his hand. They all avoided looking at each other. Their fifth year had been a strange one for their relationships.
Having mastered the Animagus transformations, the other three had begun accompanying Remus on his monthly trips to the Shrieking Shack. The sight of what a werewolf could do had unnerved them all, and added a kind of tension to the group. By now, they were quite used to it, and having company helped Remus control himself better, but the memory of that first full moon, of watching the most purely nice person they knew ransack a house and try to kill his friends, still disturbed them all.
OWLs, too, had ostracized one of them from the others—Peter. He had never shone as brightly as the other three in academia, but the difference became more pronounced when the teachers began giving them all ratings and telling them what they would and would not be able to accomplish in their lives. Peter was the only one who couldn't say with complete confidence that whatever he wanted to do was a possibility.
Familial stresses, omnipresent is Sirius' life, had hit a new peak since he hadn't been made a prefect and had continued to associate with Gryffindors from backgrounds his family viewed as unrespectable. Although he claimed at the top of his lungs that he didn't care what his parents thought, it still hurt to know that they thought of him as a failure and a blemish on their record. Knowing what awaited him at home had kept Sirius grumpy most of the year.
For James, everything was going well. Which made him stand out. Which made him feel guilty and uncomfortable. Sirius knew this, but it was hard to feel sorry for his best friend just now, as he sat and watched Remus fidgeting absently with his red and gold prefect badge as he stared at a book. He didn't care about the badge, but every time it shone it reminded him of what he could expect when he got home for the summer. He dropped his chin into the palm of his hand and looked out the window again; he could practically hear the critical voices of his parents already...
So who was prefect instead of you? Remus Lupin? Isn't he one of the little terrors you call friends? Well, he probably doesn't spend all his time raising hell with some blood traitor… What's all this about you bullying a Slytherin boy? You waste your time torturing some poor child from a respectable family, but you don't care that Mudbloods are starting to outnumber pure-bloods… How did your OWLs go? Well, I certainly hope you did Outstanding. Did you study? You're lying. You never crack a book… You're lazy… You're shameful… Regulus is in Slytherin, so what are you doing in Gryffindor? I don't know where we went wrong with you…
A surge of reckless defiance filled Sirius.
"Come on, Prongs," he said with a devious grin, whipping out his wand. "Let's go find trouble."
"That's the Padfoot I know," said James, jumping eagerly to his feet.
Finding trouble was never exactly a problem for Sirius and James. If there was any nearby, they would sniff it out; if there wasn't, they would make it. They glanced up and down the train corridor, and saw a third-year Slytherin boy entering one compartment.
"If there one, there's bound to be more," James said quietly. "Like ants, or bacteria. They come in colonies."
Sirius nodded in agreement, then turned back to Remus and Peter, who were still seated.
"Are you guys coming?"
Remus looked up. "Oh… no," he said. "I'm a bit tired. I think I'll just stay here, maybe take a nap."
"Wormtail?"
Peter moved to stand up, but at the moment the Head Boy, a tall and particularly hulking Hufflepuff seventh-year, walked past. Peter leaned back in his seat and said, "No, I'm okay here."
"Suit yourself."
The passing Head Boy stopped in his tracks and eyes James and Sirius suspiciously. "Potter— Black," he snapped. "What are you up to?"
"We're just stretching our legs," Sirius told him, sounding as offended as he could.
"Yeah, we've just been sitting there all day," James agreed. This was true; for many hours, the four friends had amused themselves by talking about Quidditch, playing chess and Gobstones, and snacking on food from the trolley. They would be arriving shortly at King's Cross, but it had been a long day and they wanted to let off some steam before then.
Frowning, the Head Boy said, "Okay, then. But watch yourselves." James and Sirius nodded obediently as he continued on his way, then headed off in the opposite direction.
Sirius heard a familiar voice as they approached the compartment that housed the young Slytherins, and couldn't resist scowling. James looked at him sideways and asked quietly, "Isn't that—?"
"Regulus? Yeah." Sirius gripped his wand more tightly as James made an irritable noise in his throat. Next to Severus Snape, a Slytherin their own age, there was no one James and Sirius hated more than Regulus Black. Sirius' brother was two years his junior and the pride of his parents' lives, having been sorted into Slytherin. It was he who loyally aspired to the image of a true pure-blood.
"Hi, little brother," said Sirius, putting on a smile as he leaned casually on the compartment doorframe. Regulus stopped in the middle of laughing at a joke a friend had told, looking instead at his brother almost fearfully.
"Hi," he said shortly, dropping his gaze.
"Oh, come on, now, Reg. You're acting like you barely know me. Why don't you introduce me to your little friends?" Sirius smiled around the compartment at the third-years, who seemed nervous about meeting his eye. Sirius wondered if Regulus had told them horror stories about him. Of course, it was equally possible that his reputation throughout the halls of Hogwarts had preceded him; he and James were already figures of Hogwarts legend.
"You wouldn't like them," Regulus said viciously, but with fear still behind his voice. "They're not… not…" He stammered to a halt, apparently having lost his nerve to insult his brother.
"Not… blood traitors?" spat Sirius. "Not like me, right?"
Regulus' friends all snapped their gazes around to see how he would react. He had gone white.
"I— You—"
"What?" Sirius demanded. "What do you want to say to me?"
"He doesn't want to talk," James spoke up. "He's in a bad mood. Maybe we should give him something to laugh about? Here's one I always find funny!" Pointing his wand at one of the other young boys, he said, "Furnunculus!"
The boy's face instantly burst out into boils. As he whimpered and felt his skin, he friends stared, horrified and transfixed. Sirius and James laughed.
"That's a good one, Prongs," said Sirius. "Come on Reg. Don't you have a sense of humour?"
"That's not funny!" snarled Regulus, jumping to his feet. "You—jinxing my friends—it's not funny!"
"No?" said Sirius, eyebrows raised. "I bet it'd be funny if I did it to someone else, though. You, maybe?"
"You wouldn't!" Regulus stumbled backwards. "I'll—"
"Tell Mummy? Oh, no, I'm scared," he said in a mock whine, bringing one hand to his mouth. "Rictusempra!"
The tickling charm hit Regulus in the stomach, and he immediately doubled over with laughter.
"Good job, Padfoot! That lightened his day!" said James with a grin.
"Leave… me… alone!" gasped Regulus, falling into his seat.
"All right, then. We'll go." Sirius turned to leave.
"Hey… no… wait!" Regulus choked, still laughing uncontrollably.
"You said you wanted us to leave," James informed him, folding his arms. "Make up your mind."
"Counter…jinx!"
James sighed, looking to Sirius to make the judgment call.
"I guess we'd better, but only because I really don't need to give Mother one more excuse to give me hell." Sirius waved his wand casually and mumbled, "Finite incantatum."
Looking at his watch, James said, "Well, we'll be at King's Cross soon. I guess we should go get ready to unload our stuff."
"Yeah, okay. See you at home, Reg…"
Regulus, who was sprawled across the train bench, glared back at the two fifth-years, still out of breath from laughing.
Sirius made a face at him as he finished his sentence, "And here's hoping not before."
"Bye, Wormtail!"
"Bye, Moony! Some fun we had this year, huh?"
"I'll say! Bye, Prongs!"
"Bye, Padfoot! See you over the summer, right?"
"Of course! Bye!"
Sirius managed to detach himself from his friends quickly, before anyone saw them who shouldn't have.
"There you are. Where's your brother?"
His life became instantly much less enjoyable when he heard his father's voice.
"I don't know," he answered grudgingly. "I don't baby-sit him."
Mr Black frowned, but made no answer. Sirius knew he didn't want to make a public scene. They were both spared having to make conversation when Regulus turned up, dragging his bags.
"All ready to go?" Mr Black asked his son. "Locomotor trunks."
Regulus' luggage took to floating behind him. Sirius, who had bewitched his own trunks on the train to be feather light, didn't bother pointing out that as soon as they were off of Platform 9 3/4 Regulus would have to drag the trunk again. Mr Black had never been known for his foresight when it came using magic; he did, at least, think to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself since he was dressed in elegant, navy blue robes.
Their chauffeur, Carl, was waiting in a back alley to help load the trunks into the car. Climbing into the car without so much as a hello, Mr Black said, "Hurry up, Carl. Come on, kids."
Scowling, Sirius followed his father into the backseat of the car, which didn't appear externally to be the limousine it was on the inside. Regulus got in last, so that Sirius was situated between two of his least favourite people.
It wasn't fair, he thought. At school, he and James were the popular ones, god-like in the awe and respect afforded them. If you weren't friends with Black and Potter, you were no one. But at home, Regulus was the subject of much admiration and cooing over as the good son. Sirius was the misfit; even his aunts, uncles, cousins and more distant relatives frowned upon him. There were only two who were kind to him—his Uncle Alphard often told Sirius privately that they were the only sane ones in a family of weirdos, and his daughter Andromeda agreed. But Uncle Alphard was getting old, and Andromeda was grown. They had no time to sympathize with a teenage boy trapped in his own house.
"Sirius was causing trouble on the train," came Regulus' voice abruptly, intruding on the peace and quiet of the car.
"What?" asked Mr Black, glaring at his oldest son. "What was he doing?"
"I was just—"
"He put jinxes on my all friends and on me!"
"You lie!" snapped Sirius.
"It's true!"
"Is not!"
"Stop fighting!" shouted Mr Black, sounding altogether much angrier than Sirius would have felt was justified even if the accusations had been entirely true. "So," he went on, after a pause, "what happened Regulus?"
"Sirius showed up at our compartment—me and my friends' compartment—and said a bunch of stuff, insults and stuff, and then did Furnunculus on my friend, for no reason at all, and some other curses on other people. Then I said it wasn't funny, so he did Rictusempra on me! At he wouldn't take it off! I had to figure it out myself!"
The injustice of the accusations rang in Sirius' ears, but so did a strange observation—Regulus could have told the truth, that there had only been two spells and James had cast one of them, and still gotten Sirius into trouble; Mr and Mrs Black had forbade him from associating with "that blood traitor, amateur criminal Potter boy." That had been two years ago, and so far Sirius had managed to keep their friendship, which had of course remained completely unchanged, a secret. Glaring at Regulus, Sirius barely heard his father say, "Well, Sirius? What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I didn't do it, that's what," Sirius retorted, whipping around to face his father. "He's a lying brat."
"Oh, yeah?" snarled Regulus. "Then explain how Josh ended up with boils all over his face! Someone did it, and if it wasn't you, who was it?"
"I… I don't know."
For Sirius had suddenly realized what Regulus' plan was. He was trying to trick Sirius into admitting that he had done it, or that he was lying, or that James had been present. Any of those scenarios would infuriate his parents.
"It was either you or someone who was with you," Regulus pointed out innocently. "So, I thought it was you, but maybe there was someone else there that I didn't see?"
Despite how uncharacteristically clever it was of Regulus, this plan was still altogether too simple for an experienced liar like Sirius to foil. He was used to inventing stories on the spot, and would not have been hard pressed to invent a tale that would get him at least temporarily off the hook. He could outwit Regulus as long as he stayed composed... but he was still feeling unusually daring and reckless, even by his standards, and he decided it just wasn't worth it. He gave a last icy look at his brother before turning to his father.
"I'll admit I did put the second curse on Regulus, the Tickling Charm. But there was only one other spell, and I didn't cast it. It was my friend. James Potter."
The silence in the car was palpable. Regulus was staring, eyes popping, jaw dropped. He clearly couldn't believe that Sirius had given himself up so easily. My Black's face was tight with rage. He looked as though there weren't words to explain what he was thinking. Sirius looked innocently at him, waiting.
"I… This is… Sirius… Explain yourself." Mr Black was always eerily calm in his tone when he was truly irate. It was Mrs Black who screamed. Sirius found he could handle both with equal aplomb by now, since he drove both his parents to rage often. He shrugged.
"Well, you know," he explained casually. "We were wandering around the train, and we came across little Reg and his friends. I mean, Regulus."
"You were wandering… Do you mean to tell me that you were associating with that boy after your mother and I explicitly told you not to?"
Regulus stopped looking horrified, and an evil smile unfolded on his face. Yet Sirius found he was still oddly unafraid.
"That's right," he said, remaining utterly calm and composed. Then, going one step further, he added, "I decided that I want to pick my own friends."
Mr Black's facial expression was still tight, but also quite flat and emotionless. It was this fact that proved so Sirius more than anything else that trouble was coming.
Then, "We will discuss this matter at home." Mr Black's tone shivered with icy dignity.
Hearing a snort that sounded like a victorious laugh being suppressed, Sirius turned to glare inquiringly at his brother, who was still looking annoyingly pleased with himself.
"HE DID WHAT?"
Now that Mrs Black had taken charge of the discipline, Sirius changed response tactics.
"I can speak for myself! You don't need to ask Father for every detail!"
Mr Black was quite content to sit in his luxurious dark velvet armchair, fingers laced beneath his chin, and watch the scene like a king in his throne. Mrs Black paced about the drawing room in a fury, and Sirius stood rigidly in the middle, glaring straight ahead at the fireplace.
"YES! SO YOU CAN TELL ME JUST WHY YOU DARED TO DEFY ME AND YOUR FATHER! TO SHAME YOUR FAMILY AND DEGRADE YOURSELF BY SINKING TO THE LEVEL OF BEFRIENDING SOMEONE WHO—"
"Knows what he believes, and that is that all people have a right to live their full lives regardless of stupid details like parentage!" Sirius interrupted viciously.
Mrs Black whirled around melodramatically, her hands like claws as she waved them around the house at herself and all the symbols of wizarding wealth. "YOU THINK ALL OF THIS IS 'STUPID DETAILS'? YOU THINK YOUR FATHER AND I AND ALL THE GENERATIONS OF PEOPLE WHOSE BLOOD IS IN YOUR VEINS ARE 'STUPID DETAILS'?"
"When it comes to determining a person's worth, everything is a stupid detail except their own values! A Muggle-born who likes someone for their personality is better than any pure-blood who thinks the only good people in the world are pure-bloods!"
Sirius found his voice rising uncontrollably and his blood pounding in his ears. His entire body was pulsing with rage.
"NO MUDBLOOD IS—"
"NO ONE DESERVES TO BE CALLED THAT!"
"DON'T YOU TELL ME WHAT MUDBLOODS DESERVE, YOU FILTHY—"
"DON'T YOU CALL ME A BLOOD TRAITOR! I'M LOYAL WHEN IT MATTERS!"
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT MATTERS! YOU AN IGNORANT CHILD!"
Practically spitting with sixteen years' worth of bottled up hatred of everything the woman before him represented, Sirius bellowed, "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! YOU'RE AN IGNORANT OLD HAG!
The silence in the room trembled. Mrs Black stood framed by the fireplace, flames licking around her silhouette as though hell itself supported her. Even the ever-passive Mr Black was sitting straight up in his chair, looking between his wife and his son, waiting for one of them to crack.
It was Sirius who moved first. He turned his back on his mother and walked upstairs to his bedroom. He went quietly, but slammed the door with all his strength when he reached it.
He was still so angry that he was digging the fingernails of his fists into his own palms, and thought he might explode if he didn't get something to hit, but as soon as he flung himself down on his bed, he went limp and buried his face in his hands.
They're testing you, said an unbidden voice in his head. They're pushing you to your limit. Don't let them win. Don't take it lying down. Don't let them get away with it.
Downstairs, Mrs Black was quieter than she had been, but still very loud. Sirius could make out what she was saying to her husband, but not his responses.
"I don't know what's happened to him. He used to be so good."
I was never good, Sirius thought with vindictive pleasure. You just didn't know I was bad.
Apparently Mr Black said something along those lines as well, because Mrs Black's next words were, "At least he used to listen, though! At least he didn't talk back to me like that! Did you hear him? Of course you did. Screaming his lungs out, defying me to my face… with pride, nonetheless!"
There was a murmur from Mr Black.
"Of course it is," replied Mrs Black sharply. "We should have known. I mean, Gryffindor! Of all things!"
A pause; Mr Black didn't answer. Sirius could picture him sitting regally in his armchair, staring at his tented fingers and shaking his head darkly. Mr Black did everything with a quiet elegance that was suggestive, at least to Sirius, of evil power.
When Mrs Black spoke again, it was in a voice of normal volume, so Sirius couldn't make it out. He was slightly annoyed that the rest of the conversation would remain a mystery, but only slightly.
There was a knock on the door. Its abrupt closeness startled Sirius, only putting him in a worse mood.
"What?" he grunted.
"Kreacher needs to collect Young Master's laundry," came a croaky voice on the other side of the door as an ugly, snout-nosed face poked into the room.
"Yeah, right. You tell my dear brother from me that if he wants to find out was I'm doing, he can come face me himself instead of sending his little spy with a transparent excuse like that," said Sirius. When the house-elf didn't move, he pressed, "Go on! You follow the orders of both young masters or you get out of this damn house, you sniveling pile of dirt! Go!"
Hissing unhappily, Kreacher said, "Of course Kreacher obeys Young Master." He ducked out of the room.
Sirius was still lying on his bed when the door opened again a few minutes later; it was Regulus this time. Apparently he had decided to take Sirius up on his summons.
"So," he said smugly, strolling across the room cockily to sit on the foot of Sirius' bed. "You had a row with Mum."
Sirius' initial impulse was to retort that a woman like Mrs Black didn't deserve to be called "Mum" by anyone, but he simply said flatly, "You heard what happened. What else is new?"
Regulus gave a derisive laugh. "You're challenging Mum on volume."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"I dunno. Are you trying to outdo her?"
"I'm trying to—"
Sirius cut himself off, partly because he could hear his own voice rising again in anger and partly because he wasn't sure how to end the sentence. Regulus was looking at him expectantly.
"Well?" he finally asked quietly. "What are you trying to do?"
Not wanting to admit that he didn't know the answer to this simple question, Sirius harshly pulled one of his shoes off his foot and hurled it at his brother. Regulus jumped out of the line of fire and just managed to hide on the other side of the door. When the shoe had struck the wall and tumbled to the floor, he stuck his head back in.
"Are—"
"Get out and stay out!" exploded Sirius dangerously, pulling off his other shoe.
Regulus recognized that he had crossed the line. He quickly shut the door again, and Sirius heard his footsteps hurrying away.
Sirius didn't emerge from his bedroom until Kreacher knocked on his door to say that dinner was served. At first he was even tempted to take dinner in his room, but he had to admit he was curious as to how his parents would react to the sight of him, so he slid off his bed and padded barefoot down the carpeted stairs in silence.
No one said a word when Sirius entered the dining room and sat down, although all four of the Blacks exchanged looks. Regulus tried not to meet his brother's eye for long.
A few minutes later, Mr Black broke the silence with, "Alphard and the girls are visiting tomorrow. They wanted to have a sort of… beginning of the summer get together. Do you boys see Bellatrix and Narcissa much at school?"
Both Bellatrix and Narcissa Black, Andromeda's sisters, were Slytherins; Narcissa had just graduated and Bellatrix was the same age as Sirius.
"No," said Sirius shortly. "But I imagine Regulus does."
"Yes, sometimes," muttered Regulus, who was looking at his plate.
"Dear, did you say Andromeda was visiting as well?" asked Mrs Black, trying to sound polite, though Sirius recognized her tone as one of displeasure nonetheless. She had never liked Andromeda, but would have hated her even more deeply had she known what Sirius did—before Andromeda had graduated from Hogwarts, she had been a Ravenclaw.
"Yes, she is," Mr Black answered shortly. His voice was rather too cold to be convincingly casual.
"I look forward to it," Sirius said, looking up at his mother. He put on a smile, which she countered with a scowl.
"I don't like your tone, Sirius," she told him. "Show some respect."
She was just trying to pick a fight, and Sirius knew it. He would fight back by not falling into her trap. In his most honey-sweet voice, with his most angelic smile, he said, "I apologize, Mother."
"So, Regulus," said Mr Black pointedly, "how was your term?"
"Oh… It was okay. Nothing much happened. Just classes and exams and everything."
"And how do you think your exams went?"
Mrs Black was still silent, sulking over Sirius, who drifted onto his own train of thought as Regulus launched into an explanation of his nightmarish Transfiguration exam. Perhaps the most that ever happened to Regulus at school was a few rough tests, but Sirius' life was much more eventful...
Since the middle of his first year, Sirius had been researching a single topic with James, Peter and Remus: Animagi. At first, it was just because they had heard about people who could turn into animals and had thought it sounded like a fun trick to be able to do, and no doubt useful in the pursuit of wreaking havoc. But Remus had changed everything.
It was James who had figured it all out, though Sirius had given him a crucial clue by laughingly pointing out one night that Remus was sick on the full moon.
"Maybe it makes him go crazy," Sirius had suggested. "You know, howling at the moon and all that… Arrrooo!" He paused to laugh. "Can't you just picture Remus, at the top of some hill, howling away, like in so many bad horror movies?"
James had snorted, and Peter had said, "Not at all."
"Me, neither! That's why it's so funny."
"Remus is a werewolf!" James said.
They had both found this image hilarious, but when it happened again the next month, they weren't laughing.
"Remus is a werewolf," James said again. And it wasn't funny; it was true.
They confronted their friend, who had been angry and hurt.
"Fine, I am. Happy?" he demanded, jamming his hands in his pockets and dropping moodily into his chair. His instant hostility had surprised the other three, but Sirius supposed in retrospect that it had been a cover for what Remus had really been thinking at that moment. "So go ahead and hate me for it, and for lying to you, and go ahead and never speak to me again because you think I'm—"
"Remus," Peter said bluntly.
"Yeah, what?"
"No, I mean that's the end of your sentence. We think you're Remus."
Remus frowned at them. "Is this some inside joke you guys have behind my back?"
"Don't be stupid," Sirius snapped. "Come on, do we seem like the type of guys to run away screaming from a friend just because he's a…"
"Killing machine," Remus muttered.
"Remus, if we took a survey," James said, exasperated, "I bet you twenty Galleons you'd be voted Least Likely to Be a Killing Machine."
"No, that's Peter," Remus disagreed. "Have you ever seen him get mad?"
"Well, okay, but you at least wouldn't be voted Most Likely."
"No, that's Sirius. Have you ever seen him get mad?"
They all laughed; the fact that he was joking again was a good sign that he was starting to cheer up.
"Anyway, like I was saying," Sirius went on, "Have we ever been intimidated by a little potential violence and danger? This just adds some fun to our lives!"
"Yeah? I get to maul myself once a month, and now you all know. Let the good times roll."
"I wish we could help you," Peter sighed.
"Forget wishing, Peter," James scoffed. "And forget mauling yourself, Remus. We can help, and we're going to!"
It had been his idea for them all to become Animagi in order to keep Remus company. That had been at the end of first year, and now, nearly four years later, they had succeeded in their quest: James was a stag, Peter was a rat, and Sirius was a massive, black dog. When they had been devising their corresponding nicknames, James had suggested that the "cute little puppy" ought to be called something like Snuffles. When Sirius had pointed out that dogs hunt deer for sport, however, they had all agreed on Padfoot. Sometimes Sirius thought that if he and James hadn't been best friends, they would have been worst enemies.
At the thought of his friends and the nights they had spent wandering the castle as animals, Sirius felt a pang of longing to be with them, far away from the grandeur and prestige of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, which was stretching his nerves to the breaking point no matter what he did. The desire deepened when his father demanded of him, "And you? You wrote your OWLs. How did they go?"
With a casual shrug, Sirius popped a bite of steak into his mouth and said through it, "They were easy. I know everything." He didn't mention that Potions and History of Magic had proved challenging, because he was still sure that he had done well enough to manage E's on both of them.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," snapped Mrs Black.
Performing a swift mood swing from tolerant to irritable, Sirius snapped right back, "Sorry. Next time I just won't answer if Father asks me a question."
"That's uncalled for, Sirius!" Mrs Black was getting louder again; Sirius had given her the ammunition she craved.
As much as Sirius wanted to tell him mother everything that was wrong with her world—which was that of parties, high society, expensive art and wine, wealth, good connections—which was a world he hated and would never be a part of, which he wished he had never been born into, which he wanted to get as far away from as possible... he found he just didn't have the energy. There was no rage, only disgust smoldering inside him. He laid down his utensils and said, "I'm not hungry. I'm going up to bed."
"No, you're not. Don't be ridiculous. It's seven fifteen."
"I've had a long day," Sirius said through gritted teeth. "I'm tired."
Mrs Black was white with rage, and unless Sirius was mistaken, she was also trembling. He didn't know why she was so angry just because he had yelled at her; sure, he had been defiant and rebellious, even by his standards, but she looked as though she wished Sirius just hadn't come back from school.
Seeing her reaction, he asked quietly, "Do you hate me? Do you wish you'd never had me?"
Now she was visibly shaking, and Sirius was stunned to see that there were tears in her eyes. He had never seen his mother cry.
"All I wish," she answered as quietly as Sirius had asked the question, "is that you had some proper respect and pride for your family and yourself."
"It's hard to have respect and pride for an institution whose beliefs I don't share in any way, shape or form," Sirius growled.
"But why, Sirius? Why do you have to fight and disagree and argue and… about everything?"
There was a long silence. Then Sirius said, "Because you're wrong."
No one knew how to answer this, and nor did they move to stop Sirius as he strode out of the kitchen and returned to his bedroom.
The first thing he did when he reached his room was sit at his desk and pull out a quill and parchment. He needed to write a letter to James, to communicate with someone who understood him.
Prongs,
I know I've always said my family is horrible, but I swear they've never been worse. My parents found out that you and I are still friends, and the result was one of the worst screaming matches I've ever had with Mother. I pretty much haven't left my room since I got home.
A couple of relatives are coming over tomorrow, some good and some bad. I don't know if I'll get through the day alive. (Incidentally, if I don't, I want you, Moony and Wormtail to have all my stuff. Better you than Reg.)
Anyway, I just wanted to say "hi" to someone who won't call me a blood traitor, which seems to be Mother's favourite catch phrase, and won't say that I bring shame to the family. Write back soon, because I might go crazy stuck here by myself. I don't know how much more of this I can take.
Padfoot
Sighing, Sirius beckoned his owl, Quicksilver, to take the letter in his beak.
"Find James fast, okay?" he muttered. "And don't leave until he's given you an answer to bring back."
Quicksilver hooted, snapped up the letter Sirius was holding out to him, and glided out the window. Sirius watched him go, lost in thought.
Since the previous summer, during which the rift between himself and his family had widened, due mostly to Regulus' starting at Hogwarts, an idea had haunted Sirius. At first, it had occurred to him as a wild joke more than anything else. An empty threat. But over the course of his fifth year at school, he had come to admit to himself that it was, in fact, plausible. Perhaps it was even necessary.
Living in this house had become almost impossible for Sirius. Though he wasn't quite sixteen, he felt it was time he left the house of his family and built a life separate from their prying, criticizing and dominating. He had all but made up his mind that if he could find a place to go, he would run away from home.
It was a terrifying thought, though. He knew the decision would be unforgivable and irreversible; once he left, he would never be welcome in Grimmauld Place again, even if he became a staunch believer in pure-blood superiority. But then again, if he could get away, would he ever want to come back?
No, of course not. He only hesitated because he was young and had no means of supporting himself. Of course he would be cut out of any inheritance, so he would be saying goodbye to all the money that went with his name. As much as he despised elite society and would rather die than admit any dependence on his parents, it was undeniably true that money was important.
But there were more important things. He would be able to get away from what he hated and what smothered him, and that was the thing to bear in mind. If he starved to death on the streets, at least he would die free.
The next day, Sirius awoke to find Quicksilver perched on the back of a chair and a scroll lying on the desk. Leaping out of bed, he praised the owl lavishly and provided Owl Treats from a desk drawer. With Quicksilver contentedly eating next to him, Sirius read James' reply.
Padfoot,
Wow, I don't really know what to say. Sounds like you're having a rough time of it. I'd invite you over here for the weekend, but to judge by your letter, I don't think your parents would let you back in the house once you left.
"You read my mind, Prongs," Sirius muttered.
Still, if you think you can get away safely, you're always welcome here.
To take your mind of off things, let me tell you about my first day back home. It wasn't any less interesting than yours.
Well, okay, not much happened during the day. But after my parents thought I was in bed (that is, just a few minutes before I started writing this) I learned some very interesting information. I put on the invisibility cloak because I was going to sneak around the neighbourhood as a stag, just to see what it's like. But as I walked past Mum and Dad talking in the living room, I stopped to listen for a bit.
They were talking about someone they went to school with, someone named Riddle. I guess that's his last name, cause no one would name a kid "Riddle," but I don't know what his first is. They mentioned "Tom," but they might have been talking about his dad. Anyway, apparently this Riddle kid went missing years back, right out of school, pretty much, and everyone thought he was dead. But then things got weird. I heard Dad say something about Riddle being blamed for killing some Muggles, his grandparents, I think, but he's a Slytherin. How could a kid with Muggle grandparents be in Slytherin? And besides that, why would anyone kill their grandparents?
And that's not even all. Mum was saying that Dumbledore told them that he thinks the evidence that Riddle is dead is all a hoax—set up by Riddle! So Mum and Dad were wondering why he would want to fake his own death.
Here's my theory: He kills his grandparents because they're Muggles and he's a Slytherin, so he's ashamed of them. I'm still trying to figure out how a Muggle-born or a half-blood got into Slytherin, but that's not the point. Maybe he got made fun of for being the only non-pure-blood in his house, so he ended up going mad. Anyway, then he fakes his own death so he can get away with murder. What do you think?
Well, write back soon, and think happy thoughts! You have plenty of good memories from this year to tide you over the summer!
Prongs
Sirius laid down the letter thoughtfully. The information about this Riddle person certainly was interesting and mysterious, and if he hadn't had problems of his own to deal with, he would have been as fascinated by it as James was. As it was, there was another line in the letter which had attracted his interest more: you're always welcome here. Would he be welcome permanently?
Running away from Grimmauld Place to move in with the Potters would certainly be a nice solution to his problem, but he didn't think he could invite himself over to live. Sure, he and James would make great brothers, but would Mr and Mrs Potter want a second son? In particular, would they want one who was James' main motivation to cause trouble?
He thought this over as he changed out of the clothes he had fallen asleep in the night before, putting on robes instead. During the summer, he always wore robes. His parents required this of him; he was a wizard, wasn't he? Why would he wear Muggle clothes? Because they were more comfortable and he liked them was not an acceptable answer. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in his full-length mirror and wished he didn't look so much like the heir to a wizard fortune.
According to the stately grandfather clock in the hall, made of dark cherry wood of an impeccable grain and fashioned by one of the great wood charmers in the world, it was nine o'clock. Sirius decided to go downstairs to breakfast.
His greeting was two very appraising looks, one from each of his parents. Then his father said shortly, "Morning, son," and his mother and asked sharply, "You remembered we're having company?"
"Of course I remembered. Where's breakfast? And where's Regulus?"
"What's left of breakfast is in the dining room, and Regulus is upstairs making himself presentable. You'd better do the same thing before ten thirty."
"Right," said Sirius, turning his back on his parents. He knew he looked fine; wasn't James always saying that Padfoot was the one the girls stared at, the one who could roll out of bed and go without so much as brushing his perfect hair? He smirked. Into his head popped the image of James, compulsively messing up his hair because he saw Lily Evans nearby. To bad Evans wouldn't give James the time of day; she only spoke to him to insult him. No one but Sirius knew how much this really bothered James, who tried to appear as though he didn't care what she thought of him. Fate had cruelly subjected James to the curse of obsessively wanting the one girl who didn't want him.
Kreacher was lurking in the kitchen which attached to the dining room when Sirius sat down to eat the bacon, eggs and toast that was left. They were starting to get cold, but he didn't care. He chewed slowly, still thinking about James' letter.
In the past several years, there had been an increase in the number of magical murders in Britain. Most of the victims were Muggle-borns, found dead in their homes, the victims of Avada Kedavra. Aurors were beginning to suspect there was a serial killer on the loose, a pure-blood targeting Muggle-borns.
Not that this kind of hatred was in any way a new concept. Since the Middle Ages, people like Sirius' family had thought that Muggles and Muggle-borns were a lesser breed; some even thought that Muggles should be reclassified from beings to beasts. There were rumours about a Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts, built by Salazar Slytherin to wipe out Muggle-borns, and many in Sirius' parents' generation recalled that it had been opened while they were at school. They said Hogwarts had nearly been closed down, but a massive cover-up had made it appear that the horrors the Chamber had caused were all results of unpleasant accidents. Official records, of course, denied this.
It occurred to Sirius that this Riddle person would have been at school when the Chamber had been opened—if it had been opened, which Sirius believed it had. It also occurred to him that if Riddle was willing to kill his own grandparents, it was unlikely that he would balk at killing others. And then there was Dumbledore's theory that Riddle had faked his own death, and James' idea that he had done it to get away with murder, and the strange fact that Riddle wasn't a pure-blood...
"Is Young Master finished eating his breakfast?" came Kreacher's low, frog-like voice. Sirius snapped out of his reverie.
"Oh… yes…"
Dropping a last, unfinished piece of toast, Sirius left Kreacher to his cleaning.
Far too soon, the hour and a half of freedom between when he had woken up and when his relatives would arrive was up, and Sirius stood next to his brother in the hall, saying hello to Alphard and his daughters. Bellatrix was a girl possessed of the same dark good looks as Sirius, but Narcissa's beauty was that of a pale, slim blonde.
As he shook hands carelessly with Narcissa, Sirius heard his mother saying, almost hopefully, "Where's Andromeda, Alphard?"
"Oh, she's coming on her own," Alphard said. "Don't worry, she'll be here."
"Worry?" Bellatrix whispered to her sister. "Don't get your hopes up, more like."
Narcissa smirked and gave a small, malicious chuckle. Sirius wished there was no social taboo forbidding him from punching his cousin in the face just because she was a girl…and his cousin.
"There's my favourite nephew!" Alphard was now saying jovially, clapping Sirius on the back. "How are you doing, Sirius?"
Sirius smiled, but couldn't honestly answer. Alphard seemed to understand, because he merely nodded and moved on.
"How's life, Regulus?" he asked politely.
"I'm fine, thank you, Uncle Alphard."
"Oh, yes? My girls say they've seen you a bit at school, but you don't talk to them. Don't want to be seen associating with your cousins?"
Sirius grinned, knowing Alphard had put Regulus on the spot on purpose. Sure enough, the youngest Black was now flushing and spluttering, "Oh… No, sir… I mean, it's not—"
Laughing loudly, Alphard waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I'm only kidding you, Regulus, my boy! It's just a little joke!"
Sirius laughed as well, to make Regulus feel even more awkward, and Bellatrix and Narcissa exchanged unreadable looks.
"Shall we move into the drawing room, then?" asked Mr Black crisply, speaking over his brother and son.
"Yes, yes, certainly," agreed Alphard, ushering his children along. He himself, however, hung back with Sirius and muttered, "So how are you really?"
"Not very good, Uncle Alphard."
"Ah?" Alphard fixed Sirius with a firm gaze. He was a short man, not much taller than his two youngest daughters, and looked rather more elderly than he was. His dark hair was salt-and-peppered with gray, his eyes were watery, his hands were bony, and his posture was slightly stooped. His wife had died at the young age of 58, but she and Alphard had always been very different people, married out of geographical convenience more than anything else. It was from their mother that Bellatrix and Narcissa got their personalities.
"I've been fighting with Mother and Father. They don't approve of my friends."
"Say no more. Don't you worry, Sirius. You're the sane one, you know you are. In the end, the whole world will know it's you and I that are right." He nodded sagely. "Yes, you'll do a great a deal for our cause. You already are. But also—" he winked, "—just you wait until Andromeda gets here."
Sirius frowned curiously at Alphard, who simply gestured as if zipping his lips closed.
They moved together into the drawing room and found themselves seats; the instant everyone had gotten comfortable, the doorbell rang.
"There's Andromeda!" called Alphard, clapping his hands together energetically.
"Kreacher can get it," said Mr Black. Then he called out, "Kreacher! The door!"
The small, slouched figure of Kreacher passed as he made his way to the door. A moment later, they heard him open it, greeting the visitor on the other side in his croaky voice. Sirius heard the voice of his favourite cousin, though he couldn't make out the words, and Kreacher answered her. Then there came another voice, a completely unfamiliar male one, laughing deeply. Sirius saw his parents raise their eyebrows at each other and saw his cousins exchange looks again; he himself looked at Alphard, who was smiling slightly as though anticipating a wonderful present.
Footsteps approached the drawing room, and in came Andromeda. She was the spitting image of her mother, a tall and stately woman with fair hair, ivory skin and pale eyes. Next to her stood a man Sirius had never seen before. He was also very tall, with short, light brown and a warm smile. Andromeda looked around the room and waved generally at everyone.
"Morning, all!" she said brightly. "I don't think all of you have met my boyfriend, Ted?"
"Hello," said Ted, waving as Andromeda had done. He didn't seem to notice the judgmental looks he was attracting from Mr and Mrs Black.
"What did you say your surname was… er… Ted?" asked Mrs Black, apparently hating that she had to address anyone by such a classless name.
"Tonks," Ted informed them.
"I'm sorry," said Mr Black, frowning. "I don't know the name. Are your people from London?"
"Further south," Ted replied. "And you've probably never heard of them, because they're Muggles. Like me."
Now Sirius understood what Alphard had been hinting at. Mr and Mrs Black's expressions were wooden.
"I see," said Mr Black icily. Mrs Black apparently couldn't open her mouth; Sirius could see a tirade swelling within her, the kind he usually invoked, and was impressed at Andromeda's daring.
"Pull up a couple of chairs," said Alphard, filling in the role of host that his brother and sister-in-law had abandoned. He waved his wand, and two chairs appeared between Mrs Black and Sirius, near the fireplace.
"Oh, thanks, Daddy," said Andromeda, beaming. She and Sirius smirked at each other as she passed him, holding Ted's hand.
Conversation began, albeit stiffly, around them as Kreacher entered with tea. Sirius spoke to Andromeda under the cover of the others' chat.
"Nice going," he said quietly out of the side of his mouth. "I've never seen Mother so mad at someone that wasn't me."
Andromeda chuckled. "Yeah, I think they had a couple heart attacks apiece, or at least cracked a rib trying to hold themselves back. If only Mum was alive to see this."
"It would have killed her," put in Ted on Andromeda's left. "But we're not done yet."
Sirius, who had been looking nonchalantly at his tea, snapped his head up to look at them. "There's more?"
"Oh, yes. Get ready for the loudest you've ever heard your dear mother shout."
"You'll have a challenge topping yesterday, when she found out I'm still friends with James Potter. I've been in touch with him behind her back for over a year since her and Father forbade me to be."
He said this to get her praise, knowing she would be proud of his efforts to bring down their family from within. She nodded approvingly and said, "Very well done, Sirius."
"Sirius, weren't you saying you found your OWLs quite easy?" came Mr Black's voice, catching him by surprise. "Bellatrix here thought they were a bit of a challenge."
Although he was a blood traitor and a source of endless shame to them, Sirius' parents still derived great enjoyment out of bragging about his accomplishments and grades, particularly to rub them in the faces of people like Alphard and point out the inferiority of his children to theirs. Sirius didn't have a problem with getting an excuse to lord himself over cousins he hated.
"Oh, really? I can't imagine why," he said, putting on the same sweet voice that he had used the day before, that he always used when trying to thinly veil malice. "They were very simple if you know the material. If I get less than an 'E' on any of them, frankly, I'll be shocked. I think first-years could have written that Herbology one."
He smiled pleasantly in response to Bellatrix's glower. "What subjects are you taking?" she asked him sharply.
"Well, besides the core, there's Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. You?"
Bellatrix looked angry, and he knew she had been hoping for him to list off easy classes. "Divination and Arithmancy," she said shortly. "Divination was quite difficult... but you wouldn't know."
"No," Sirius admitted. "Although, to be honest, I've never understood the use of that class. Tell me, can you predict the mark you'll get on that exam, Bella?"
Her face darkened. Bella was a nickname she only let her closest friends use. She replied coolly, "We learn to See more important things than simply grades and superficial achievements, Padfoot."
Sirius stopped smiling. There was something about the way she had slipped his nickname into the sentence that made him suspect she wasn't just copying what she had heard his friends call him. She knew what it meant… but no, of course not, he was just being paranoid. She couldn't know.
Perhaps Andromeda sensed the sudden aggression in the air, because she jumped into the conversation with, "Well, then, Bellatrix, can you See what news I have to announce to you all today?"
Bellatrix blinked and looked up at her sister, who had risen to her feet. Composing herself, she replied, "I sensed an aura of unpleasant secrecy about you since you arrived, but I chose not to trespass into your consciousness."
She was clearly trying to be impressive. Sirius rolled his eyes visibly.
Andromeda smiled around the room. All eyes were now on her. "Then allow me to end the suspense. I brought Ted here today so I could tell you all… we're engaged."
"You're WHAT?"
Mrs Black was on her feet, too. Sirius was hard pressed to conceal his glee at the impending fiasco.
"Engaged, Auntie," repeated Andromeda, still smiling. "You know. To be married."
The effect of this news was comparable to that of an earthquake. The room did indeed tremble with Mrs Black's wrath.
"HOW DARE YOU SHAME THIS FAMILY BY BRINGING MUGGLE BLOOD INTO IT! YOUR CHILDREN WILL BE MUDBLOODS, AND I WILL NOT HAVE OUR GOOD NAME ATTACHED TO THEM! WHEN YOU GIVE UP OUR VALUES, WHEN YOU REDUCE YOURSELF TO MARRYING THIS FILTH, YOU ARE NO LONGER A PART OF THIS FAMILY! YEARS AGO I SHOULD HAVE DONE IT, SEVERED ALL TIES WITH A BLOOD TRAITOR LIKE YOU! I'VE KNOWN FOR AGES THAT YOU'D DO SOMETHING TO BESMIRCH OUR FAMILY NAME, BUT NEVER DID I IMAGINE YOU'D GO SO FAR AS THIS, THAT YOU WOULD BE SO UTTERLY THOUGHTLESS! THIS IS THE END, ANDROMEDA!"
Ted was on his feet, too. He had taken his fiancée's hand again, and they both looked quite unafraid. All the Blacks in the room knew what was coming next when Mrs Black drew her wand, brandishing it wildly. Her target was a large, sprawling tapestry hanging on the wall behind her. It was headed "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," and tracked their family back seven centuries. Across the bottom were the names of Sirius, Regulus, Andromeda, Bellatrix, Narcissa, and all their cousins.
"Reducto!" cried Mrs Black. With a small blast, a hole exploded in the tapestry; Andromeda's name was gone.
"GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE!" shrieked Mrs Black now, still waving her wand hysterically. "NEVER DARKEN OUR DOOR AGAIN! BECOME A TONKS, AND NONE OF YOUR LINE SHALL EVER BE WELCOME IN THIS PLACE! I THOUGHT I'D SEEN THE WORST TREACHERY THIS FAMILY COULD PRODUCE, BUT NOT EVEN SIRIUS—"
Mrs Black stopped yelling and sucked in her breath, eyes wide with horror. She had never admitted aloud in front of anyone that Sirius was a source of conflict. He felt he ought to speak.
"What about me, Mother?" he asked calmly. "Not even Sirius… what?"
"Not even… you, the most intelligent person in this room, could possibly understand why she would do this, I'm sure!" she finished lamely. The cover up couldn't have been more transparent.
"That's not what you were going to say," Andromeda hissed acidly. "More likely it was something like, not even Sirius would do something like that. Not even Sirius would sink as low as you. Not even Sirius is that much of a blood traitor. Am I right?"
Before Mrs Black could answer, Mr Black stood up to speak. "I think your aunt has made her point clear," he said in a tone of dangerous calm that Sirius knew all too well. "You and your Mudblood fiancé are unwelcome in the company of this family, and you will kindly leave immediately."
"With pleasure," Andromeda told him, practically spitting venom. "Come on, Ted."
"Of course." Ted was scowling more darkly than Sirius would have thought he could with such a friendly face.
"I'd invite you to the wedding, but you wouldn't want to come, and we certainly don't want to have you, so do everyone a favour and just stay locked in your own little universe here until you're ready to evolve into decent human beings."
"OUT!" roared Mrs Black.
Not another word shattered the silence as Andromeda and Ted stalked out of the house. Then, unexpectedly, Alphard said, "What gives either of you the right to speak to my daughter that way?"
As Mrs Black stared at him, stunned, Mr Black said, "We have the right to be forceful with any unwelcome guests in our home."
"I see," Alphard said crisply. "Well, in that case, I suppose I'm unwelcome as well."
"What on earth—"
"If your object to my daughter, you object to me, since I'm the one who taught her to be herself. So I'll be going, and I doubt I'll ever return. Good riddance, to be honest. The only one here I'll miss is Sirius."
Sirius stared in transfixed horror at his uncle. If Andromeda and Alphard both walked out of the Black family, he would be left with no one.
"Don't worry," Alphard said, catching Sirius' eye. "I'll keep in touch with you. I know you need someone to turn to in this family of maniacs."
"Alphard, don't make me blast you as well!" shrieked Mrs Black, pointing her wand at the tapestry.
"For what?" demanded Alphard.
"Leave him," Mr Black said quietly to his wife. "We don't want to alienate him if we don't have to. He did produce two good daughters, after all."
"You'll only keep me in the family because you're certain two of my girls will marry people like you and continue the pure-blood Black line," Alphard said grimly. "If that's the case, then that confirms what I've always thought. I don't want to be a part of this family. I've wanted to escape for years."
"So have I," Sirius heard himself saying loudly, standing up to contribute his own opinion. "And as soon as I can find a way, I will!"
Both his parents snapped their faces toward him, his father's glare murderous, his mother's flabbergasted, but he didn't respond. He stomped upstairs yet again, with the intent of writing a letter to James.
As soon as he opened his bedroom door, however, he was startled to hear James' muffled voice within.
"Padfoot!" he was hissing. "Hey! Padfoot! Where are you?"
"Prongs!"
Sirius dove across the room to his backpack, pulling out of it a mirror. James' face was reflected in it, and he smiled at the sight of Sirius.
"There you are!"
"Hi, Prongs. You have no idea how great it is to see you."
"I figured you might like a friendly face, after your letter. So how's it going?"
"Are you sure you want to open that can of worms?"
"Spill, Padfoot."
Sirius launched into an explanation of everything that had just happened downstairs—Andromeda's engagement, Alphard's abandonment, and his own unexpected revelation.
"I can't take this family, Prongs," he finished. "I have to get away."
"You mean… for good?"
Sirius hesitated; telling someone else would be a confirmation of all the crazy ideas that had been darting around his brain. But then, hadn't he just announced it to all his direct relatives?
"Yeah," he said heavily. "I do. If I could find a place to go, I'd leave tonight and never come back and be glad of it… but I can't take care of myself. I don't have any money."
"What are you talking about, taking care of yourself?" laughed James. "Ten months a year, Hogwarts takes care of you!"
Sirius hadn't thought of this, although it now seemed obvious. "Yeah, but what about during the summer, and after graduation?"
"I'm sure you'll find a job right out of school, you're practically top of the year. And as for during the summer… er… well…"
Sirius laughed bitterly. "Exactly. And my family's gonna disown me, so I can kiss the Black family fortune goodbye."
James didn't answer. He was chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully and messing up his hair with one hand in a compulsive gesture. The two friends sat in silence. It was James who spoke first, slowly.
"You know… I was telling my parents about, you know, how rough it is for you at home… They said you're always welcome over here if you need to get away for a while… I wonder if they'd be willing to let you live here?"
"That'd be brilliant!" Sirius said, beaming, delighted that James had suggested it so promptly.
"Hold on, I'll go ask."
James' face disappeared. Sirius was now looking at James' bedroom ceiling, listening to him calling up and down the halls, "Mum! Dad! Mum!"
"Yes, James, honey?" came Mrs Potter's voice.
The rest of the conversation was quiet. Sirius waited, trying to make out from the tone of voices what Mrs Potter was saying. He heard Mr Potter's voice join in, which he took as a good sign, because he doubted he would need a say if the answer were a flat-out no. Still, there was a knot in Sirius' stomach when he heard James' footsteps hurrying back. The view of the ceiling tipped askew as James dived into sight, grinning.
"Guess what!"
"I can live with you?"
"Mum said she couldn't stand the thought of you being stuck in that house with a bunch of pure-blood idiots, and Dad agreed, so you can move in whenever you're ready!"
"For real? I can't wait!"
"Yeah, I know! She said she and Dad had been trying to think of a way to help you out for a couple weeks now."
"Your folks are the greatest, mate."
James grinned. "I know."
Sirius started the process of moving out the next day. His possessions were still all packed from the journey from Hogwarts back to Grimmauld Place, so he simply sent his trunks along to the Potters' with Quicksilver and James' owl, Hibuon. He also sent a note to Alphard.
Uncle Alphard,
It's been clear to me for a long time that I don't belong in this family, and because I know you've always supported that, I wanted you to be one of the first to hear: I'm leaving this house and moving in with my best friend, James Potter.
Give Andromeda and Ted my best, and tell them where I've gone. I'm sure they'll be glad to hear it. Hope everything's going well for them, and I hope I see all of you soon.
Sirius
The day after sending this letter, Sirius talked to James again through their two-way mirrors.
"It's all set, Prongs," he said. "Tonight. I'm leaving. Are you ready for me?"
"If you mean are we set up for you, then we're ready when you are. If you mean are Mum and Dad ready to cope with the pair of us… well, we'll see," James replied, grinning.
Sirius found he, too, was unable to stop smiling. There wasn't a single thing about this house he would miss; he had spent several hours over the past days trying to come up with anything, without success.
"All right, then," he said. "I'll see you in a few hours."
"See you."
James' face faded from the mirror, which Sirius tucked into a bag of the few possessions he hadn't sent ahead to the Potters' yet. He stomach was flipping over itself excitedly as he double-checked everything. All his things were gone, Quicksilver had instructions to go straight to their new home after delivering the letter to Alphard, and there was a short note to the Blacks on the desk. Sirius looked it over.
I've left for good. I'm not coming back. You don't need to know where I've gone. Probably I'll never see you again.
Sirius
It was blunt, but he didn't feel much like wasting words on his parents.
For what he sincerely hoped would be the last time, Sirius quietly closed the door to the room that had been his for sixteen years but would be no longer. He crept past his parents' bedroom, making no noise lest he wake them up, and into the main hall. There, he received an unpleasant surprise.
He heard quiet voices coming from the adjacent living room; they were those of his mother and father. They weren't in bed, as he had thought. Suddenly he felt sick. Even worse—his stomach lurched—they were coming closer to the hall.
He froze, still the length of the hall away from the front door and the sweet freedom on the other side. His mind was blank, registering only that they were going to catch him, that his escape would not be as quick and smooth as he had counted on. Some dim part of his mind did realize that he needed to devise a cover story, but for the first time in his life of petty crime, he had no ideas. The few seconds he stood there dumbly seemed eternally long.
"Sirius?" said his father's bewildered voice, breaking into his blind horror.
Mr and Mrs Black stood there, having entered the hall from the living room, staring at their son. Only then did he realize how suspicious he looked: he was dressed in Muggle clothes, holding his small suitcase in one hand and his jacket in the other. He was sure his face was gaping guiltily, too.
"I… er…" he choked out. Not being ready with a lie was a new experience, and not one he was enjoying.
"Are you going somewhere?" asked Mr Black slowly, his eyes locked on those of Sirius, who Mrs Black was surveying menacingly.
"Well… I sort of…"
Run.
The thought struck Sirius like a blow to the head, and there was nothing else for it. He bolted to the door.
In seconds, Sirius was slammed up against the wall face first; he let out a grunt of pain, and heard his father swear in frustration. Dizzy from the blow of his head against the wall, Sirius was hardly aware of someone wresting his bag from his grip and twisting his arms behind his back, but he fought back nonetheless.
"You… ungrateful… swine… blood traitor…" his father snarled, breathing heavily as they struggled against each other.
"No… leave… don't…" Sirius panted in response.
Suddenly his father roughly turned him around and slammed him into the wall again, this time against his back with his arms pinned to his sides. He felt a slight trickle of blood from his nose as vision swam into focus. His mind was spinning, too; neither of his parents had ever so much as spanked him or Regulus, no matter what they did, and God knew he had done enough in his life that at one time or another he had suspected he earned a beating. Still, he couldn't believe that it was actually happening now. But the pain was real.
"Where do you think you're going?" demanded Mr Black, shaking his son hard and thumping him against the wall.
"Leave me alone—"
"Not while you're under my roof!"
"Let me go!"
"Where are you trying to go?!"
"No—"
Sirius felt a blow to the left side of his head, and as he reeled from it, his father pulled him into the living room and threw him into a chair. Mr Black leaned in towards his son, hands gripping the arms of the chair so that Sirius couldn't get away.
"So," snarled Mr Black in a low voice. "What do you think you're trying to pull?"
Mrs Black was standing in the background, breathing heavily. She was clearly in a towering temper, at least as angry as her husband. And Sirius found that he, too, was as angry as he had ever been in his life. The shock had subsided, and now he was livid that his father had dared to lay a hand on him. This was absolutely the end; he wouldn't take this for another minute.
"I'm leaving," he said. "I'm getting out of this house, I'm getting away from you people, and I'm never coming back. I hate this family as much as you hate me. Why do you even was to keep me here?"
"YOU CAN'T ABANDON YOUR FAMILY!" screamed Mrs Black, pointing a finger that trembled with rage at her son. "WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS!"
"No, you brought me up to hate people who aren't like me!" he roared. "Or you thought you did— You tried to. But you just made me hate people who are like you!"
"DON'T YOU DARE SHAME OUR FAMILY—"
"I don't care about this goddam family! How many times do I have to say it?! Blast me off your tapestry if you want! See if I care!"
"You will not run away from this!" bellowed Mr Black. "I'll break your damn legs if I have to—"
He stopped in mid-sentence, because Sirius had just whipped out his wand in an impulse of fury. The Ministry wouldn't care if he had to use magic to escape the tyranny of his parents… his father standing there threatening him…
Apparently Mr and Mrs Black were thinking along the same lines. They glared at the wand nervously.
"I'll do it," growled Sirius. "Don't tempt me, because I swear to God I'll do it."
There was a moment when none of them moved. Sirius had the wand at his father's face. He slid it over towards his mother, and the instant he did, Mr Black's wand was out and pointed at him. It would have to end with a duel.
"Impedimenta!"
"Protego!"
The first spell was that of the father; the second, that of the son. Sirius sent Mr Black's own spell back against him, and he was frozen where he stood. Mrs Black drew her wand with a cry of rage, but Sirius had expected it.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted at her, though he didn't look to see if her wand had gone flying. "Accio!" he shouted at his bag, which lay in the hall where Mr Black had dropped it. Sirius was running for the door again, but Mr Black was already starting to regain movement…
"SIRIUS!"
He flung himself out of the door and darted around the corner of the house into the bushes, where he instantly transformed into a huge, bear-like dog. He was bristling and growling, waiting for his unsuspecting parents. How he would love to attack them both.
Neither Mr nor Mrs Black came around the corner. Sirius saw them standing in the doorway of the house, their shadows melted into one, cast out long and framed in a golden beam that lay across the lawn, shouting, "Sirius! Get back here, Sirius!"
Do they really expect me to answer? he thought, with the canine equivalent of a rueful laugh.
"Where is he going to go?" came Mr Black's voice, sharp and irritable.
"No doubt to some hole, to live with some Mudblood scum. It's as though he's trying to be some worthless, pitiful, orphan brat, living on the streets when he could be living in a mansion…"
No, I'm going to live in another mansion. Where people care about me.
"We went wrong with him somewhere. He's a lost cause now."
"He's trying to kill us!" cried Mrs Black in a carrying, melodramatic voice. "He's breaking my heart!"
You don't have a heart.
"How can he do this to me?" she wailed on. "My own son, my flesh and blood!"
You're not my parents. Blood means nothing.
As if this thought had carried, Mr Black said darkly, "He's no son of mine, as far as I'm concerned."
The silence was broken only by a breeze rustling the leaves of the bushes where Sirius lay in wait.
"No," Mrs Black growled finally. "He's not a part of this family."
Good. At last, something we agree on.
"Come inside, dear," Mr Black was saying now. Sirius saw the bright light of the shrink away as they closed the door behind them. He crept around the corner to peer through the drawing room window, where he saw, as he had expected, his mother angrily flourishing her wand in the direction of where he knew the family tapestry to be. He could just imagine his name, which he was so used to seeing in gold embroidery next to Regulus', being reduced to a burn mark. The thought did not disturb him at all.
With his bag in his teeth, Sirius snuck down the block. He blended in with the night so well that no one looking outside would have seen him. He trudged through London as a dog, exploring, and savouring the freedom of knowing that he was no longer bound to his family.
It was past midnight when he suddenly realized that there was a long walk ahead of him to the Potters'. They lived in London, but on the other side of town from where the Blacks did, and the neighbourhood he was in now looked only vaguely familiar. He also realized that he was more injured than he had noticed in the adrenaline-pumping fury of his escape. Hidden in an alley, he transformed back into his human form and winced in pain. His nose was still bleeding, his head was pounding and spinning so hard he thought he would be sick, his knees were badly bruised, and he strongly suspected that he had a black eye and a dislocated shoulder. The fight hadn't felt that violent at the time, but apparently he just hadn't been paying attention.
As much as he always hated to admit weakness, he knew that he needed help. He began digging in his bag for his two-way mirror, feeling his shoulder move unpleasantly as he did.
"James Potter," he said into the mirror, gritting his teeth. Now that he had acknowledged the pain, it struck him with more force.
James' bedroom ceiling came into sight, darkened now for the night.
"Prongs!" Sirius hissed. "Prongs, it's me!"
Someone moaned in exhaustion, and a hand groped over the surface of the mirror before pulling it up. Half of James' face came into view, sleep lines over the right side of it, his eyes barely open, his hair a mess even by his standards.
"Wuzup?" he mumbled blearily, blinking his eyes that were heavy with sleep.
Sirius frowned at him. "Weren't you going to wait up for me?"
"It's nearly one in the morning. I figured something came up and you weren't coming."
"Something came up all right! Look at me!"
James opened his sleepy eyes fully and focused them of Sirius. Suddenly he was much more awake.
"Sirius, mate! What the hell happened to you? Who's been beating you up?"
"My father,"
"Your… What?"
"You heard me. I need help, James, I can't get to your house by myself."
"Yeah, of course! I think Mum's still up. Hang on."
Dropping the mirror so that Sirius' view was now a half sideways one of pillows and blankets, James got up and out of bed. Sirius heard him calling for his parents, but was thinking about his throbbing headache too much to think about the conversation. He was now beginning to feel faint. He was barely aware of James returning to the mirror to say that he and his parents were going to find Sirius.
"Yeah…" he mumbled vaguely. "Hurry… Majora Street…"
"We're coming Sirius, hold on."
Then it was all blurred shapes and confusion, James' voice in the distance calling his name, and Sirius felt a last sharp pain as his head struck the concrete and he dropped into unconsciousness.
Gradually floating back up, waking up, Sirius felt as though his head would explode from the pain of the repeated blows he had suffered. He was too weak even to groan; moving was out of the question. His eyelids fluttered.
"Hey— His eyes moved!"
It was James' voice. Sirius became aware that he was lying on something soft.
"Really?"
It was Mr Potter's voice.
"Yeah," said James. "Look, I think he's waking up… Sirius?"
How he ached all over. He twitched his fingers and made a small noise.
"Sirius?"
"Mm-hm…" Sirius managed. Slowly, hoping it wouldn't be bright, he opened his eyes.
All he took in of his surroundings was that the window was letting in the pale light of the sky just before sunrise, and that James Potter and his father were sitting on the bed. Both smiled when Sirius looked at them.
"He's a trooper," said Mr Potter.
"Oh, is he coming to?" asked a new voice. Mrs Potter entered the room and crossed to his bedside.
Sirius felt oddly content, as though he was really home, surrounded by his real family. He moved to sit up, but Mrs Potter gently pushed him back down.
"No, no," she said. "You're still in rough shape. I wouldn't be surprised if you had a concussion."
"Have you seen yourself?" asked James quietly.
Sirius shook his head rather than put the effort into making words, and instantly regretted it as his head throbbed even harder in protest at being disturbed.
"Here," said Mr Potter solemnly, handing Sirius James' two-way mirror. As soon as he saw his reflection, Sirius' heart stopped with shock.
There was blood clotted beneath his nose and at his hairline near his left eye, surrounded by bruises; his right eye was black and nearly swollen shut. Beneath all the horrible discolouration, he was white as a sheet. Rubbing his head softly, he felt two bumps which he was sure were the results of being thrown into a wall by his father and passing out in the alley. When he put down the mirror, he felt a dull, throbbing pain in his left shoulder. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.
"What happened to you, Sirius?" asked Mrs Potter, sitting on the bed next to her husband.
Sirius looked around at the three Potters; James looked more apprehensive than his parents, who were watching their patient gravely.
"My mother and father didn't want me to go," Sirius began. "They tried to stop me… by force… It was Father who…" He paused to think of the right words, then went on, "Father pinned me against the wall to try to get my bag away from me… we struggled… I had to use magic to get away from him…"
There was a stunned silence. Mr Potter finally broke it to say, "Your father did this to you?"
"Yes."
"Has he ever… before?"
"Never."
"Not to your mother or your brother, either?"
Sirius let out a small, bitter laugh. "Of course not. I'm the only one who brings shame to our family. That's why I had to get out. I…" he swallowed, "I want to thank you… for giving me this chance."
Mrs Potter put on a cheerful smile and tone again. "Don't be silly. Our door is always open to you."
"Now, all you have to worry about is getting better—"
"And the trouble I'm going to be in for using magic, once they track me down," Sirius pointed out.
"I'll pull some strings," Mr Potter assured him. "They'll forget all about it when I tell them the story."
"Thank you." Sirius wondered whether he had ever meant those two words more. They seemed hugely inadequate.
Sunlight was now beginning to slip through the window into the room. Sirius squinted against the orange sunrise rays.
"Oh, it's nearly breakfast time and we've been up all night, all of us! Sirius, James, you both need your rest. I'll have your breakfasts sent up. We'll just go and leave you two boys to get some sleep."
She took her husband by the arm, and they left quietly. James yawned loudly.
"Wow," he commented. "Mum's already treating you the same way she treats me. You'd better not take my place as her favourite son."
Sirius smiled feebly. He was glad James was behaving normally, but he didn't have the energy to laugh.
"You can start getting concerned when you think I'm trying to replace you as her only son," he retorted. "But that won't be for a good few years yet."
James smirked. "Your sense of humour isn't broken, anyway."
Sirius managed to widen his smile, but knew it probably looked forced and not genuinely happy.
"Are you going to be okay, Padfoot?"
The look on James' face, however, was genuine. He was frowning at Sirius with his brow furrowed in concern. No one in the Black household had ever looked at Sirius as though they really cared about him.
After a moment, Sirius said, "Yeah."