Disclaimer: I do not own, nor ever will possess, the rights to Harry Potter.

Warnings: Before you begin reading this story, there are certain things you should be aware of. First, this story is rated M because of some violence as well as inferred nonconsensual acts. There is no actual description nor scenes, but there will be references to it and some discussion amongst the characters. If you are not willing or might be triggered by a mention or implied reference to such events, please do not continue reading. Thank you. Also, this will NOT be SS/SB. No romance there.

"But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto Me: for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." Luke 18:16

-x-x-x-x-x-

Sirius Black groaned aloud in dismay once more. There was no one to hear him—he was in his bedroom, and he was Black enough to have warded his room against eavesdroppers and snoopers, including his own family, with spells not exactly condoned by the Ministry. Sitting back up on his bed, back settling comfortably on the headboard, Sirius mentally listed all the things he would have liked to say or do to his family and all Purebloods at the moment. Around 103, a nasty little number involving castration for the males and some nasty rashes in unmentionable places for the females, Sirius' all-consuming anger subsided, leaving him with only the bitter gall of defeat stagnant on his tongue. There was nothing he could do. Nothing. And if it was one thing Sirius Black hated, it was being helpless.

Just this morning he'd been laughing, joking cheerfully with his best friends, and making plans to escape his stifling house for the majority of the summer to spend time at the Potter's residence just like every other summer since his second year of Hogwarts. Just this morning he'd been enthusiastic for the summer to start—if not for his return to a home he dreaded, then for the escapades he would inevitably get into with James and Remus. Now—well, now, he was certainly "home sweet home", and the summer after his sixth year of Hogwarts looked like it would be the blackest of them all, no pun intended.

When he had first been invited to James' home to stay for most of the summer after their second year, he'd been elated. Remus and Peter had also been invited, and together, they'd wrought havoc wherever they went. The fun had only continued third and fourth year, but last summer—the summer after fifth year—Peter had not been there. Instead, there was a timid brown owl bearing a bland message from his mother, stating that Peter was going to be staying at the Malfoy estates in France for the summer instead, but sent his regrets. They'd all been puzzled and slightly betrayed as well, of course. Peter had never even mentioned other plans, and he certainly wasn't on good terms with Malfoy. Malfoy, of all people! But when they had told Mrs. and Mr. Potter, both of them had abruptly gone all queer and pale as if something was wrong.

None of them had been told what the matter was, but Mrs. Potter—in the scary-stern motherly way of hers, had made it forcefully known that Peter was not at fault for breaking a sacred summer tradition, and then they would refrain from asking him what he was doing at Malfoy's French properties or what had taken place there. It had soured their summer in a way. Peter was as quiet as the rat he'd only recently conquered as his Animagus form, but he was an integral part of the Marauders, the shadow that occasionally surprised them all with an ironic quip or jab designed to deflate their egos and keep them in perspective. He belonged in their group, the same way Remus and his reliable steadiness, James and his arrogant charm, and Sirius with his mischievous nature contributed to the four-way friendship. Naturally, they'd thrown a couple inquiries his way when school began again.

Okay, maybe it was more like a lot of questions. All in curious fun, of course.

Okay, maybe it had a bit of an interrogation style feel to it.

But that was beside the point. Peter had paled, begun to tremble, and clammed up. When his tremors became so pronounced that James had to run to get Madame Pomfrey, they had known something was…off. And it had only been confirmed when Pomfrey arrived, breathless, took one look at Peter now convulsing on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, and let a startling expletive escape her lips. Peter spent a week in the Infirmary, recovering from, of all things, a seizure coupled with a nervous breakdown, and Pomfrey had threatened the Marauders and anyone else with instant death if they so much as asked about Peter's summer again. They'd taken the hint, and things had quickly gone back to normal—well, not quite. Sirius didn't understand what had made Peter so scared that summer he spent in France, but the entire year Peter had become withdrawn and moody, where once he had been a happy-go-lucky friend.

Now, Sirius had an inkling perhaps of what Peter had gone through. Because his own parents—especially his mother—was going to be doing the same thing to him. A summer in France, at the Malfoy estates—complete with lessons on how to make your bloodline proud and socializing and making connections with other Purebloods. Merlin!

Sirius wondered what it would be like. It had to have some sort of Dark Arts tied to it, since Peter had come back so terrified. But Peter had always been a nervous chap, not exactly cowardly but not one to charge into anything dangerous. Great. Just what I need. A summer of nothing but rich, snobby Purebloods and their rich, snobby children. Mother had said—no, screamed—at him for what seemed hours, ranting about how if it had been up to her, he would have been going to these Summer Gatherings since childhood.

"But no, your father pleaded with me to wait until you were older. This is your last summer with us before you go off as an adult, and I will not have you disgracing the Black name as you have been doing! It is excusable in a child, but I refuse to endure it when you are clearly almost of age and an adult. You have no choice. Either you go, or I will drag you there by your absurd hair, and chain you to the property. Do you understand me?"

"Walburga, perhaps you are being too harsh—"

"Oh, do shut up, Orion. You are close to being a disgrace to your own name as well. When I married into the Black family, I did not intend for it to fall into the mud the way you and Sirius have been trampling it. I have bowed to your wishes. Regulus will not attend until the summer before his seventh year as well. But Sirius will go and make us proud, if it's the last thing I do!"

"I'm not going, Mother. I'm going to be staying at James' home—you know, like every other summer?"

The voice dropped low then, and into the hiss that struck fear into the Black men: it was the tone Walburga Black used very rarely. It always signaled your choice of obedience or excruciating pain. "You will be going to Chateau Malfoy in a week, and you will be conducting yourself with proper Pureblood manners. Pack what you wish to take with you. If you are not ready to leave in a week, you will find the Potter residence one less in number to greet you. After all, your little friend—the shabby half-blood—is quite a menace to society, the way he is."

Sirius couldn't breathe. How had his mother found out about Remus? Walburga's eyes shone manically. "Oh darling, did you think that I would neglect to research the backgrounds of anyone connected to my wayward son? The Black name and influence still holds much influence within the Ministry, and it was not so hard to coax your dirty little mongrel's secret from the man in charge of Werewolf Regulation. Perhaps…" her tone became almost loving, lighthearted in a way that made Sirius shiver and his father take a hasty step back. "Perhaps I could let him live, and merely let something slip by accident at my next encounter with the Minister, or one of the students' parents. They are so concerned for the safety of their children, and I for one would not want a mangy creature and devourer of humans loose in a school full of innocent children. Nor would I want a Headmaster who willingly let one such animal in to threaten the health and safety of hundreds. No, that would never do at all."

And so, it came to be that Sirius Black was sullenly packed and waiting his Portkey for France in three days.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The sickening lurch of Portkey travel, along with the tumult his stomach was already in from the circumstances of his visit and his mother's threats to his friend and the Headmaster made for a very green-faced boy by the time he had arrived at the impressive front entrance to Chateau Malfoy. A house-elf ushered him in, transporting his trunk ahead of them as he was taken through miles of gleaming marble hallways and imposing doors to mysterious rooms until they reached a large parlor-type space.

"Ah, Mister Black! So good to see you here at one of our gatherings at last," Abraxas Malfoy said smoothly, rising to his feet. Beside him, his wife peered down her nose at Sirius.

"Welcome to our humble abode here in France, Monsieur Black," she murmured, her voice a hum that should have been gentle and pleasant but somehow reminded Sirius of a hissing serpent. Not that it was a surprise, not in the home of the notoriously Dark Malfoy family.

"Thank you for having me, Madame and Monsieur Malfoy," he acknowledged grudgingly.

"You must be queasy from that Portkey still, it is never easy to travel such long distances in one jump, Mister Black. My wife and I will not keep you. Ila will show you to your quarters. I do hope you don't mind living in the West Wing. Many of the younger set live there, including quite a few of your classmates, I believe. Just a few instructions—do not go into the South Wing at all, and please refrain from exploring the cottage that stands a little ways from here. Otherwise, you are free to look around the grounds and the manor, and you may call for Ila if you somehow become lost or turned around. I'm afraid lunch is over, but dinner will be served at promptly seven. Just follow anyone down to the Dining Hall, you are the only one new to this establishment so the rest should know their way around the place."

"Thank you," Sirius said again, unable to think of anything else to say. Something passed between the Malfoys, but it was fleeting and Sirius was unable to catch any hint of what it might have entailed. He hoped it didn't have anything to do with him. Staying the summer here would be bad enough as it was without having the Malfoys angered at his apparent lack of politeness or something. Not that he cared about their opinion, but it was preferable not to infuriate or provoke his hosts for the summer…

Dismissed, Sirius followed the silent house-elf out from the Parlor, and proceeded to get thoroughly lost as it marched him down corridor after corridor, up a flight of stairs, and yet another maze of hallways. The architecture of the place was cold, almost like a graveyard of marble and oak doorways, Gothic arches and fancy carvings embedded in massive pillars. The ceiling almost rivaled the height of the one at Hogwarts, but possessed none of its comforting scenes of the sky or echoes of children's laughter. In fact, the enormous place was like a tomb—deathly quiet.

Abruptly, Ila stopped in front of a slightly smaller dark wooden door, the fourth door down a darker and carpeted hallway. There was only one more door past this one. "Master is putting you heres," the house-elf croaked. "Master Black's quarters for summer. Others staying in other rooms here too, if Master Black becomes lonely." Wiping palms slightly sticky with sweat on his robes, Sirius reached out and felt the cool metal of the bronze doorknob turn easily. He stepped inside and stared.

It was large—larger than his bedroom back home at Grimmauld Place, of course. The Blacks had fallen on hard times and been forced to sell their larger mansion three generations ago to move to the small house at Grimmauld Place. It was perhaps almost the size of the Gryffindor boy's dormitory, except this room held only one huge antique bed with four dark posters rising menacingly towards the perfectly white and smooth ceiling. A massive wardrobe and matching set of drawers stood at attention across the room from the bed, pressed against the wall that the door was set into. An impersonal bedside table of a wood matching that of his bed and wardrobe completed the image, overall, of a guest bedroom in an old and moneyed family's mansion. Funny, since that is precisely what it is, Sirius thought ironically to himself. When he stepped forward, his shoes were hampered by the carpeting—thick, luxurious, and chocolate brown. The color and richness brought an unexpected wave of misery to Sirius' throat. It reminds me of chocolate, and chocolate reminds me of Remus. Remus, who might die or be forcibly expelled and outed to the world as a werewolf if I don't stay here this summer and try to fulfill Mother's wishes. Remus, who is probably wondering with James why me of all people is ensconced in Malfoy's snooty French house. James' parents probably know why. Maybe they'll tell James and Remus I had no choice. On that note, I wonder if Peter is here? That gave Sirius a jolt of hope. He'd hate to have Peter return to a place he obviously dreaded, but maybe, just maybe, he might find his friend here as well. That thought alone carried Sirius through until dinnertime.

-x-x-x-x-x-

At 6:53, having sent Ila off, unpacked all his things, snacked on a bag of Bertie Bott's Beans that he'd snuck with him, paced around his extravagant guest room countless times, peered down the dark corridor of his living quarters, decided that he really didn't want to explore or knock on any doors, played numerous games of naughts and crosses and hangman with himself, changed his clothes twice, and collapsed in the soft mattress to stare at the ceiling and curse the Malfoys for keeping the place up so well that there weren't even cracks in the paint that he could count, Sirius finally slipped on his shoes and opened his door to make his way down to dinner.

The first thing he noticed was that the door right at the end of the hallway was also opening. Yes! Another human being! At this point, Sirius, having had no human contact for hours, was close to insanity. He was a people-person, damn it! He couldn't deal with the ringing silence that pervaded the place! He would wither away and die without actual human conversation and contact!

But when the door was fully open and the person obviously inhabiting the room at the end of the West Wing's third corridor stepped out into the shadowy light, Sirius was not so sure he was grateful for that human sighting anymore. Because the person who had just come out of the room practically next to Sirius' was the one person Sirius did not want to see at all.

"Snivellus."

The dark boy's head snapped up, a wand appearing in his hand faster than Sirius could blink.

"Oh. Black. What an unpleasant surprise," Sirius' most hated nemesis intoned, black eyes blazing up in familiar contempt. "What brings you to Chateau Malfoy this summer instead of diddling with your fellow imbeciles and—animal—as you usually do?"

"Shut up, Snape. You're more of an animal than any of my friends, hands down. It certainly isn't my choiceto be here and have to see your ugly mug more than necessary. All year at Hogwarts is bad enough, and Lily certainly isn't here now to stop me from hexing you silly like I've wanted to do all year."

Something like this would have sent Snape flying into a rage at Hogwarts. Sirius knew it, knew just where to push Snape's buttons for the greatest effects. So it was supremely shocking and puzzling to Sirius when, instead of shouting or attacking, Snape simply sneered, closed the door to what was presumably his own room for the summer, and tucked his wand back into his robes. Was he crazy? Sirius could have had his wand from him in an instant with a simple Summoning spell!

Some of that shock must have shown on his face, because Snape raised a jeering eyebrow and began walking down the corridor. Passing Sirius, he murmured in a low, silky voice, "I wouldn't mention any of your idiot friends in this place, if I were you. The walls have very avid ears, even eyes if they wish it. I would be careful." And Sirius was left, staring at the back of Severus Snape as it rapidly walked away from him, vanishing as the lanky boy turned right, presumably heading to the Dining Hall.

What was that? A threat? Or a warning? Sirius couldn't decide, and his head was beginning to ache, and he was beginning to feel rather peckish…Oh drat. Dinner. I don't suppose I'd get off to a good start if I am late to dinner. And your potential guide just walked away from you. "Blast it!" Sirius strode after Snape, but it was too late—the boy had disappeared.

"Black?" At the sound of another male voice, Sirius spun around. A boy Sirius recognized vaguely as a Slytherin in their year had just emerged from the second of the rooms. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm learning how to yodel for a living. What do you think I'm doing here?"

The blond boy had the grace to look slightly abashed. "My apologies, Black. I was startled at your presence at the Summer Gathering this year. You haven't been to any before."

"No, I haven't—my mother wished me to come here and learn what I could this year before I left her home," Sirius said cautiously. He didn't know much about this boy, only that he was just as popular with the girls as Sirius himself was, and considered one of the greatest catches of his year for Pureblooded witches.

The boy—slightly shorter than Sirius, but with an air of confidence that seemed to make him three feet taller—smiled at him. "Well then, I do hope you find your stay here an enjoyable learning experience. I've been coming here since I was twelve. Lord and Lady Malfoy are very generous to extend such hospitality to us, and it is a time of wonderful opportunities." His voice was low and pleasant, and Sirius was rather taken aback at how…well…nice this Pureblooded Slytherin seemed to be. He had no mocking undercurrent to his tone, no threatening darkness, and no all-consuming arrogance Sirius associated with the Purebloods who would come to such an elite congress. Blinking, he found himself smiling hopefully at the boy.

"I hope so. I would not want to…" to get Remus killed or expelled—"to disappoint my family."

"That is very filial of you. Your parents must be proud of you, Sirius Black." A musical laugh punctuated and underscored the sincerity in the boy's words. How had he gotten into Slytherin? He was too nice!

"I hope so," he responded, and then—uncharacteristically of him, he blushed. "I'm sorry, you know my name but yours seems to have slipped my mind…"

"Oh, no worries at all. We weren't in the same House and never really spoke, so I don't expect you to remember it. It's Rosier—Evan Rosier, but do call me Evan."

"Well, it's very nice to 'meet' you, Evan. Please, call me Sirius. I'm not one for much formalities either."

"Thank you, Sirius. Now, shall we head down to dinner? I believe the others are already there, and we might be a little late."

"Oh no!" Sirius gasped, frantic. "This isn't exactly the good impression I wanted…"

He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud, but Evan's calm voice slowed his pattering heart and suddenly clammy hands. "Please, don't worry. I'm sure the Malfoys will understand. I'll show you to the Dining Hall, shall I?" Evan glided ahead, easily navigating the confusing web of corridors, until they found themselves at what was obviously the dining room. It was huge. Three large tables ran side by side, filled almost to capacity—one, Sirius noticed as all the heads turned to greet the latecomers, was filled entirely with adults. The Malfoys and their son, Lucius, presided at that table. The other held younger faces. Sirius caught a glimpse of a carefully blank Snape near the end, and grimaced. The third table held children—some of them in the early years at Hogwarts, Sirius noted, and some still too young to go to Hogwarts yet.

"Rosier, Black, you are both six minutes late," Mister Malfoy noted.

Sirius opened his mouth to explain, but before he could, he felt a warm, soft hand curl around his shoulder. "Lord Malfoy, my apologies. I met Sirius in the West Wing and distracted him from dinnertime with my surprise at his presence. It is hardly his fault."

Lord Malfoy looked over at another man, two seats away from him—Evan's father, Sirius realized. They looked the same, only different age-wise, and everyone held their breath as father and son exchanged a look that Sirius couldn't even begin to interpret. Then the man—Mister Rosier—inclined his head gravely. "If Lord Malfoy accepts, I see no reason to punish either you or young Mister Black this time. Do keep an eye on the time in the future, Evan."

"Thank you, Father."

"Very well. Both of you are excused for your lateness. Please take a seat. Rosier, may I entrust young Black's care to you? You can teach him the ropes of the place, perhaps, and show him around a little."

"I will, Lord Malfoy. Thank you for your graciousness." Evan bowed gracefully, his lithe body making it seem like a dance and not a gesture of submission from younger to older. The slight pressure on his arm jolted Sirius out of his contemplation, and he quickly mimicked Evan, bowing slightly from the waist. It was much more awkward that Evan's, and Sirius felt his cheeks go hot at his clumsy inexperience. Stupid Pureblood etiquette! I can never remember all the rules or get them right! Nor do I want to, he thought petulantly.

At least it had seemed to be the right thing to do, because the tables relaxed a little and began conversing with each other again. Evan, who hadn't let go of Sirius' shoulder, guided Sirius to the table containing ages from third year up till as old as Sirius and Evan. There was a chair down at the foot of the table, and one right at the head. Sirius began to make his way to the one at the foot, only to have the manicured and masculine hand gently propel him towards the head instead. Confused, Sirius threw a look at Evan, who only smiled.

Turning to the boy at the right hand of the empty chair at the head, Evan addressed him in an authoritative tone. "Rodolphus, take Avery's seat. Avery and the rest of you, move down one." The table went silent. After a long pause, the brown-haired muscular Rodolphus stood and crossed to the left side of the table, where a sulky-looking sandy-haired boy with a dark complexion sat: Avery. Avery shoved his chair back and turned to his right, where the next boy down promptly got up and vacated the seat. And so on down the line. Sirius didn't know much about Pureblood seating arrangements for dining, but he could discern that something monumental was happening and that somehow, Evan was very much the leader. Just what did I get into by making friends with Evan? Sirius watched as the line of boys shifted, the last boy grumpily plonking down onto the seat at the foot of the table. Sirius noticed that Snape was the only other one whose name he knew, other than the ones whom he had just met. Snape didn't look up at either Evan or Sirius the way almost all the other boys had done, but instead quietly took his new position—third to last at the end of the table, among all the younger ones sitting at that table. Peter isn't here. Did his mother let him go to James' house this summer? Damn, there goes my one friend hope. Although Evan might not be so bad for a Slytherin, nothing like Snivellus at all.

Evan patted Sirius' shoulder. "There now. Please, sit. You must be starving." Sirius found himself in the right hand seat, next to Evan, and gradually the conversations rose again, leaving Sirius with an interesting problem: just what had happened, and how was he going to be affected?

After dinner, Malfoy Senior stood up majestically, and all speech stopped at once. "With the appearance of Mister Black today, our number is complete and the relaxation is over. Tomorrow, lessons start, so enjoy your freedom tonight. You'll be too tired by tomorrow night to do anything!" A ripple of polite laughter answered him. "Lady Malfoy and I will be retiring to the South Wing now, so any questions you have must be directed to my son, Lucius." The carbon copy of his father tilted his chin even further up, and Sirius had to stifle chuckles at what James would have had to say about the notorious narcissist. His engagement to Narcissa Black is no surprise at all, really. They match each other, and her name definitely suits Lucius' tendencies! As the adults slowly trickled away, Sirius heard his name being called.

"Sirius. Sirius!" He glanced over. "Sorry, Evan, my mind was wandering a little. What did you want?"

The fair-skinned boy smiled again. Really, he has a very friendly smile. No wonder all the girls like him. He's just as gorgeous as Lucius Malfoy, without the haughty I-am-better-than-you air. "No problem. I was just going to tell you that we younger ones have a little tradition, our last free night before lessons start. You'll be joining us?"

"What? Oh…sure, why not? It's not like you're going to torture or murder me or anything, right?" Sirius joked, grinning.

"I only save the torture for those who deserve it," Evan informed him, muted green eyes sparkling with good humor.

"I've been a very good boy this year," Sirius cried, pretending to cower from him.

"I do hope you have, Sirius Black, or you'll find out that it's bad to lie," Evan threatened him with an exaggerated stare. The last two adults exited, and Evan bounced up out of his chair, throwing his arms out wide recklessly. "My dear friends and fellow Purebloods! The time has come! Let us greet the summer! Let summer officially start, and let the games begin!" With that, the lights blinked out dramatically, leaving them in total darkness. Sirius might have gasped, but no one heard it so it didn't count. At least, that's what Sirius told himself. No one else seemed to react.

"Three! Two! One! Commencer!" A mass scrambling did provoke a gasp from Sirius, but almost immediately he felt a reassuring hand clutch at his arm. "Sirius, my friend, follow me and try to be quiet. The objective of the game is to scatter around this part of the manor and try and remain undetected, while finding and disabling any other person you can. Use any means necessary to immobilize the others and take their wands."

It sounded like a spiced up game of Hide and Seek—Sirius followed Evan as silently as he could manage. They made their way down to a dark nook, where Evan pulled him in and cast a spell Sirius didn't know, with a wand that was suddenly in his hand. "Okay, we can speak now—I've used a spell to muffle our voices, no one else will hear us. We have a five-minute grace period to find a place to lair up in, and then when you hear a beeping noise, the real game begins. Disarm and stun, or do anything to get the other players down. Always take their wands. After thirty minutes, the lights will go on again and we'll retrieve everyone and congregate to see who has the most wands. We're allowed to work alone or pair up, but no more than groups of two."

"Cool. Hey, can you teach me that spell later on? I've never heard of it." Evan laughed.

"Of course. It's a useful spell. I'll teach it to you another time. Right now, I believe it's about to be show time—" and a beeping sound indicated that yes, it was indeed time to start the game. Evan cancelled the spell and almost immediately shot a silent bolt of red towards something Sirius couldn't see—and a thump told him his spell had made contact with a body. Oh dear. Silent casting? I don't think I can…Sirius gulped. Well, you never knew until you tried. He trotted to keep up with Evan as the boy Accio'd the wand of the Stunned person.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Sirius had never felt so exhausted in his life, magically and physically, as he did when the lights finally went back on. He had, only thanks to Evan, not been taken down. Evan had had to save him a couple times though, and the spells, other than the Stunner at the beginning, were increasingly alien to Sirius—and, he suspected, grey. Evan seemed to be in good spirits though, as they trudged down the hallway, rescuing Stunned, bound, and wandless players. There were quite a few of them. Back at the Dining Hall, Evan sat on the table and surveyed the troops, all of whom looked rather worse for the wear. "How many of you went down?" Almost all of them looked down, or shuffled their feet embarrassedly. "I see. Anyone younger than fifteen shouldn't worry, it's all part of learning the right spells and practice, which the us older ones have had." Evan smirked; the younger children raised their heads a little, evidently appeased.

"Who was not, in any way shape or form, taken down?" Sirius raised his hand—so did several others.

"So, Avery, Nott, Rodolphus, Sirius, and Snape. Oh, and of course, me. Well, that's better than last year. Congratulations to all of you." Sirius glanced at the others Evan had named. Avery and Rodolphus had been the ones ordered to move, and Nott was one of the few girls present. Anna Nott—she'd been one of the girls he'd admired from afar but refused to talk to. She was a Slytherin, after all, and two years younger than he besides. Snape? Well, I suppose he's as sneaky as they come.

"And how many wands did you take?"

"Ten." Avery.

"Eight." Rodolphus.

"Fourteen." Nott.

"Eleven." Snape.

"Eighteen, between Sirius and I. That's nine each, so Anna, it looks like you win this round." Evan graciously nodded at the curly-haired brunette, who nodded back solemnly. "Here's your prize—" Evan beckoned with his wand, and something shot out of the half-obscured cupboard tucked away in the corner. He handed it to the girl, and her eyes lit up with undisguised delight as she turned a small, plain silver knife over and over in her hands.

"It's from Destiny's Weaponry and Tools," she remarked reverently. Sirius blinked. Even he had heard of the renown shop, in fact the only respectable one located in Knockturn Alley. They had a reputation for well-honed and solid, reliable magical weapons and aids. A silver athame was essential to almost every wizard or witch who wanted to perform more than household charms the rest of their lives—most powerful rites and some potions required the use of an athame in one way or another. Harvesting certain ingredients, cutting runes, the like. Silver athames by themselves were expensive but fairly easy to buy, but the ones sold by Destiny's were desired because once they bonded to their new owner, only that person could wield it forever. Handy, if you want to ward off thieves. No one will even think of stealing something bonded like that, it tends to have nasty side-effects on the thief up to and including killing the thief. Sirius, like all other Pureblooded children, had heard horror stories of bonded objects ripping themselves out of a thief's hand and stabbing the would-be criminal to death without any outside intervention."Thank you, Rosier!" Sirius looked at the plain knife in her hand with more respect. Remus said that it was extremely expensive to get anything from Destiny's. Wonder how much that little knife cost? How rich is Evan anyway? Or did Malfoy supply it maybe?

"You've earned it, Anna," Evan said warmly, and the crowd watched breathlessly as she slowly drew a thin line of blood down her palm. She grit her teeth, but made no sound as bright red sprang to the surface, and the blade flashed once, brightly, before becoming once more an ordinary dagger. Nott's palm was unmarred. Everyone let out a whoosh of breath in awe, and Rosier continued on into the silence as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "Severus, you did almost as well with eleven. Congratulations on your improvement."

"You are too kind, Rosier." It was the first words Sirius had heard out of Snape since the corridor incident. The tone was bland, the words polite, Snape's face blank. Nothing, not a single emotion, showed, but there seemed to be a certain apprehensive tension between Evan and Snape. Sirius wondered what it was.

"Lestrange—Rodolphus Lestrange—and Avery, I'm disappointed in both of you. Last year both of you had twelve wands. You're getting sloppy." Both boys ducked their heads and muttered an apology.

"And, of course, Sirius." Evan turned to him, and his voice went from coldly unemotional—the kind that Sirius hadn't known Evan possessed, which made him slightly uneasy—to the familiar approving tone. "You've done well for your first game. You kept yourself from becoming irreparably hexed, and you managed to keep up with me. You're not bad at moving around silently. Good job." And with that, the atmosphere of tenseness broke, and Evan beamed a big smile around the room. "Please, everyone, go get yourself unhexed if you've found your way to the business end of someone's wand. Dismissed!"

The crowd immediately broke into chatter as some of the group began removing obscure hexes like giant boils or hair that seemed to have taken a life of its own and was attempting to strangle them, while others moved towards the doorway and headed for their rooms. Evan turned to Sirius with a charming smile, and remarked, "So, would you like to learn that muffling spell now?"

Author's Notes

You may query why such a title, and what the purpose is of the quote from the Bible at the beginning of the story.

It is rather obscure and not completely linear or logical, but bear with me if you're interested. The title "Suffer my Children" is a bastardization of the verse printed at the top of the chapter, particularly when Jesus says "Suffer little children to come unto me…" and this particular scripture refers to an instance in his life when his disciples tried to turn away the group of mothers who were seeking blessings for their children. He rebuked his disciples for turning away the children and told them that only if they could receive the kingdom of God in a childlike manner—with innocence and simple faith—would they be able to enter the kingdom of God. "Suffer my Children" began as a single concept: childhood innocence, and morphed rapidly into the story of the maturation of Sirius Black as he goes from being a childish prankster to a (gasp!) responsible adult. Because no story is complete without Snape in it, I began thinking about the childhood of those growing up on the other side—the "wrong" side. The ones who got Sorted into Slytherin, the ones who are expected to become Dark wizards and witches, the ones whose parents, family, and respected peers for the most part raised their children to be concerned about blood, money, and power.

Thus, Summer Gatherings for Purebloods to teach their children their ways and traditions and views and allow them to socialize with 'the right kind'. And the darker side of childhood…you see, centuries ago Jesus taught that innocence and simple faith should be cherished and encouraged. But too many times, people and circumstances combine to rob these children of their innocence and trust far too early. It happens in our world. And it happens in Rowling's Wizarding World. Perhaps you can think of this story as the battlefield of the last days of childhood and the first steps as a pragmatic adult for some—and a memorial for those children who were already adults long ago. Even the corrupted, already-turned-evil ones.

Again, as I've mentioned, the path of my thoughts that went from scripture to title to story is rather convoluted and possibly untraceable, but I did somehow get from point A to point B and you somehow stuck with me through the entire chapter and the Really Long Author's Note, so well-done you! If I have offended you in the use or mention of the Bible verse, please accept my apologies, I do not mean any insult to any religion, faith, or as might be the case, non-religion. The actual story itself is nonreligious in itself, unless you wish it to be. If you wish to discuss my views on religion, I would be more than happy to reply a polite pm, but not a review please as that sort of conversation is rather off-topic and more suited to private conversation.

Thanks everyone! Please tell me what you think.

The chapter title comes from a Swedish proverb that goes, "A life without love is like a year without summer."