James hounded them constantly about pursuing the leads that Hagrid had unintentionally given them. A secret passage to Hogsmeade! Access to the kitchens! It was a twelve-year-old boy's dream. But final exams were upon them almost immediately, and no amount of James's badgering kept the end of the school year from arriving and cutting their search short.

"Next year," James insisted, with Peter nodding along in fervent agreement. "Right when we get off the train, the search continues."

Final exams were no fun, but, for Sirius, boarding the Hogwarts Express at the end of term felt much, much worse. His parents hadn't written all semester and they hadn't sent any messages through Narcissa, so Sirius wasn't sure what kind of reception he'd be getting at King's Cross that evening.

James was the first to mention his nauseated expression. "Not keen on going home, then?" he teased gently. "You look a little green. You haven't even finished your Cauldron Cakes. Mind if I…"

"Go ahead," Sirius muttered, handing his food over to James. "I'm not hungry."

"I can't believe you won't be able to write us at all for three whole months," Peter said, hanging his head.

"Well, I'm going to try," Sirius said fiercely. "They can't keep me cooped up forever."

"Even if you can't use your mum's owl, we can write you and you can just reply on the spot," James suggested.

"Yeah, but we all tried writing over Christmas and our owls never got through," Remus pointed out. "They just kept coming back with our letters still tied to their legs. We have the correct address, right? 12 Grimmauld Place, London? I wonder why our owls couldn't find it."

"There are charms on the place to prevent intruders and unwanted post," Sirius explained. "My grandparents got heaps of hate mail from people who disagreed with their political activities until they put those charms up. Now owls can't find our house unless their owners are on the list of permitted senders."

"What if you go outside?" Remus asked. "Outside the boundaries of the charm? I bet our owls could find you then."

"Probably," Sirius mused, feeling his spirits lift a bit. "So, I should just stand on the street all day with a quill and inkpot?"

"Well, do you have anything better to do all summer?" James asked with a laugh. His mouth was full of Cauldron Cake and a little dribbled out onto his chin. Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to James with a joking grimace.

"No," Sirius admitted. "Not unless you count copying the entire contents of the Black Family Chronicle by hand onto 2,000 feet of parchment. I guess I could sneak outside once a day and sit in the square across the street from the house. If you ask your owls to wait there for me, it just might work."

The other three boys agreed, and Sirius was happy to have something—anything—to look forward to this summer.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station, Sirius expected Narcissa, and maybe Lucius Malfoy, to show up to escort him onto the platform again, but nobody appeared. Sirius wandered off the train and watched as his friends found their families in the crowd of waiting people. A stab of jealousy pricked his chest when he saw that James, Remus, and Peter's dads each swiftly and eagerly looped an arm around their sons in a hello hug. Sirius swiveled his head around, looking up and down the platform for someone he knew, but he saw nobody.

He was feeling a hot rush of angry, humiliated tears rising in his chest when he felt a small tug on the hem of his robes. He looked down. It was Kreacher, looking grouchier than ever, pushing a luggage cart.

"Kreacher is here to fetch Master Sirius," he croaked, staring at his bare, hairy feet. "Kreacher did not want to come here for Master Sirius, who is such a disappointment to his mother, but Kreacher comes, to save his Mistress the embarrassment."

"Oh, stuff it, you batty old elf," Sirius growled, trying to keep tears at bay.

Kreacher obeyed, still glaring at the ground.

"Well? How are we supposed to get home?" Sirius asked.

The elf was silent.

"Merlin's bollocks, you're impossible!" Sirius burst out. "You may speak, okay? I order you to speak. Is that what you need to hear?"

A couple of middle-aged witches who were standing nearby heard Sirius's raised voice and glanced over. Sirius watched as their kind expressions turned to distaste when they realized he was berating a house elf in public. He shrunk miserably into the collar of his school robes, wishing he could disappear altogether.

"Kreacher will bring Master Sirius home now," Kreacher said sullenly. "Master Sirius must take Kreacher's arm and Kreacher will Apparate."

"Perfect," Sirius muttered. He took hold of Kreacher's skinny, wrinkled arm. "Bloody perfect."

Hi Sirius!

I'd ask whether you're doing alright, but I know you're not, so I'll just say I hope you're still the same Sirius and the Blacks haven't sucked out your soul yet. If they did, I'd be really mad because I've been trying out some new Zonko's products since I wrote you last, and I have loads of ideas about how we can put them to good use when school starts again. It wouldn't be as fun without you.

Now that we just got our supply lists from Hogwarts, Mum is asking when I want to go to Diagon Alley to get books and stuff for next year. She says I can bring a friend. Can you come? Maybe your parents would be happy to get rid of you for a day. You should ask!

James

Hi James,

You're right, everything is utter rubbish. They haven't sucked out my soul yet, but Dad decided that Mum's version of icing me out isn't working, so now he's in charge of "setting me straight." Don't ask what that means – you won't like the answer. The only good news is that they're too busy fighting about me to talk about their perfect little prince Regulus every five minutes. Which means I don't have to throw up in my mouth every five minutes, thank Merlin.

Going to Diagon Alley with you is hopeless. I won't even bother asking. But what if you and your mum go to Diagon Alley on the same day that my mum takes Reg and me? I can probably sneak away. I think she's planning for next Saturday, if you can do that?

Sirius

Hi Sirius,

Sure, Mum says next Saturday is fine. Let's meet at Madam Malkin's at ten. I need to buy longer robes because I grew a couple inches and my old ones are above my ankles. Maybe Evans will like me this year, now that I'm taller. I can't wait to see her when school starts again. There, now you can throw up in your mouth.

James

Walburga took her sons by Side-Along Apparition to the Leaky Cauldron the following Saturday morning. She released Sirius's arm as soon as they landed, but kept hold of Regulus's hand. She ushered the smaller boy into the pub without a single backward glance at Sirius, who trailed silently a few steps behind.

Despite the early hour, the pub was filled with men and women chatting and eating breakfast. Walburga began to navigate the room, nodding politely to some patrons while completely ignoring others.

"Yes, Travers, we're out doing some school shopping for my Regulus today. He starts at Hogwarts this year and we couldn't be more excited."

"He looks like a fine young man, Walburga," Travers proclaimed, clapping Regulus on the back as they passed his table. He barely looked at Sirius, his gaze sliding right over and past him. It seemed that his mum's friends, like his mum, had mastered the art of ignoring undesirables.

After a few minutes of excruciating small talk, the three Blacks finally reached the brick wall at the back of the pub and tapped themselves into the entrance to Diagon Alley. As soon as the archway sealed behind them, Walburga turned to Sirius and addressed his left shoulder. She hadn't looked him straight in the eye since last winter. "Alright, you ungrateful boy," she hissed, "how much will your supplies cost this year? I'll give you what you need, and then you'll leave me and Regulus to our business."

"Er—" Sirius stammered, taken aback. He had expected an argument about going off on his own. Indeed, he thought he'd probably need to sneak away while she wasn't looking. But she was allowing him to do exactly what he wanted.

Without waiting for a response, Walburga reached into her purse and shoved a handful of gold at Sirius impatiently. "Here's twenty Galleons, that ought to be enough," she said. She was casting furtive glances up and down the cobblestone street, which was still quite empty in the early morning, as if she was afraid that someone might witness her speaking to Sirius. "Pay for everything in coin—don't charge anything to our family accounts. Hopefully nobody will recognize you. Wandering around Diagon Alley with no parents, maybe they'll mistake you for a dirty Mudblood. That would make you happy, wouldn't it? Now, go on. We'll be back at the Leaky Cauldron at four. Sit in there and wait for us if you get done early, but don't be late."

Sirius gaped, coins spilling out of his hands, as Walburga turned on her heel and walked away, dragging Regulus behind her. Sirius could hardly believe his good luck.

Hurriedly he shoved the gold into his shorts pockets, trying not to picture everything twenty Galleons could buy at Zonko's. He joked about his mum killing him and dumping his body in the Thames quite often, but his mum might actually kill him and dump his body in the Thames if he came back home with no schoolbooks, no gold, and a sack full of pranks.

James was already standing on a stool at the back of Madam Malkin's clothing shop, waiting to get fitted for his new robes, when Sirius entered. The store was deserted but for him and Madam Malkin. James hopped off the stool and raced across the store floor as soon as he saw Sirius. "Hey, mate! You made it!" He thumped him on the back, then made a big show of peering over Sirius's shoulder. "There aren't any angry harpy mums chasing you, are there?"

Sirius laughed for what felt like the first time in weeks. "No," he said, "she was actually happy that I went off on my own." He regarded James in his new robes full of pins. "You don't really look much taller. Are you sure you need new robes?"

James looked affronted, but Madam Malkin, a grey-haired matron who had come rushing after James to make sure he didn't poke himself with the pins, heard him and chuckled. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, smoothing down her apron. "Your friend doesn't look taller because you've probably both grown over the summer. Boys of your age grow like weeds, you know. Some start later, not needing new robes until fourth or fifth year, but some start early like you. Just look at the length of your shorts. And your shirt looks a bit too small as well."

Sirius looked down at himself, bewildered. He hadn't noticed until now, but it was true, his summer clothes were fitting more snugly than he remembered. "You think I need new robes, too?" he asked the matron.

She smiled. "Well, it can't hurt. Maybe we should ask your mother. Where is she?"

Sirius scowled. "We don't need to ask her. She gave me gold, so it's fine, I'll get fitted." He led the way back to the fitting area. "Where's your mum, anyway?" he asked James.

James shrugged. "Knick-knack store across the street. She loves looking at old furniture and stuff. We'll find her when we're ready to head to Flourish and Blotts."

It wasn't long before Madam Malkin finished James's fitting. "Now, I'm going out back to finish up the sewing," she said. "I'll only be a few minutes. In the meantime, dear," she told Sirius, "please stand on that stool and put these on." She flicked her wand and a set of robes behind the counter flew toward Sirius, who caught them with a muffled oomph. "If they're too tight on your shoulders, then try these." Another set of robes whooshed over the counter and zoomed toward him as Madam Malkin disappeared behind a set of swinging doors.

James howled in laughter while Sirius tried to disentangle himself from the piles of fabric. Each set of robes seemed to have at least four or five arms. Finally, he yanked himself free and stomped huffily onto the stool, grumbling, "Glad I entertain you, mate."

He tried to put on the first set of robes, but they felt too small and he was having a hard time finding the second armhole. He twisted around on the stool, and by the time he felt the hem of his too-small shirt rise, exposing a few inches of his belly…it was too late.

"What is that?" James demanded, his smile quickly fading.

Sirius yanked his shirt back down, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. His throat had suddenly closed up.

"What. Was. That." James asked again, sounding angry. He leaped to his feet and strode to where Sirius stood, frozen. Without asking permission, he reached out and yanked the hem of Sirius's shirt back up, revealing a crisscrossing pattern of welts across his stomach and sides, some healing into bruises and scabs, a few fresh and still ringed by a nasty red glow.

"Turn around," James growled. When Sirius didn't move, James pushed the robes aside and examined Sirius's back, which was peppered with the same wounds.

"It's nothing," Sirius managed to whisper. "Just a bad accident—"

"Bollocks!" James hissed. "An accident? What am I, some kind of idiot? Your dad did this to you, didn't he?"

Sirius swallowed hard as James bore down on him, his usual goofy grin replaced with a furious, terrified expression. This, above all, made Sirius uncomfortable. Sirius had spent the entire summer convincing himself that it wasn't such a big deal—dads had to discipline their kids sometimes…it was just the way families worked. But Sirius knew that something had to be very wrong, for James to take it so seriously.

James showed no sign of letting the subject go. "This isn't right, Sirius! We need to tell someone! You shouldn't have gone back there this summer! One of these days he might kill you!"

"Please keep your voice down," Sirius muttered. "I don't want Madam Malkin to hear you."

"It wouldn't be so bad if she did hear me," James spat. "Then she'd write to the Ministry and get you removed from that house. Actually, speaking of, come on." He forced Sirius off the stool and Sirius stumbled forward. Numbly he allowed James to drag him across the empty store floor, out the door, across the cobblestones, and into the knick-knack shop on the other side of the street, still wearing the unfitted school robes by one arm.

Mrs. Potter spotted them almost instantly through the rows of candlesticks and vases. "James!" she exclaimed. "What's going on here?"

James shoved Sirius down the aisle toward Mrs. Potter. "Mum, this is Sirius, I've told you about him," he panted, red-faced. Mrs. Potter began a friendly greeting, but without warning or permission, James again reached down and pulled on Sirius's shirt. "Mum, look at this! We have to do something!"

Sirius wanted to wriggle out of James's grasp and run away, but his feet were rooted to the floor. He couldn't move. He couldn't even think. He could only thank Merlin that this shop, like the rest of Diagon Alley, was still deserted at this hour. By noon, every shop would be brimming with witches and wizards.

Mrs. Potter examined Sirius's bruised and injured torso, her face unreadable. She glanced around to check that nobody was in a nearby aisle, cast a Silencing Charm for good measure, and then bent down to look him in the eye. "Sirius, dear, who did this to you?" she whispered.

It was too much for Sirius to make eye contact with Mrs. Potter. He looked away. "Dad did, I guess," he muttered. "But it doesn't happen all the time…just every now and again. It's not that big a deal. Really."

"It is a big deal," Mrs. Potter said firmly. "It's illegal to hurt a child as punishment! Outlawed by the Wizengamot two decades ago."

"We're gonna do something, right, Mum?" James cut in. "We'll tell the Ministry, and the Aurors will arrest him! And then Sirius can come live with us!"

"What about your mother?" Mrs. Potter asked Sirius. Her lips were beginning to tremble. "Does she do this, too?"

Sirius shook his head. "She mostly stays downstairs when it's happening. Sometimes she comes in and reminds my dad to stay away from my arms and face. She doesn't want him to leave marks that my clothes can't hide."

Mrs. Potter made a strangled noise and reached out to pull him into a hug, the first kind touch Sirius had received all summer. He hugged her back gingerly. "I'm sorry, dear, I'm so sorry," whispered Mrs. Potter. "You don't deserve this. You don't deserve this." She took his face into her cool hands and brushed his long hair out of his eyes, and it was such a motherly gesture that Sirius felt his throat closing up again.

"We can't get the Aurors involved, James," Mrs. Potter said with a heavy sigh when she and Sirius finally broke apart. Sirius saw that there were tears in her eyes.

"Why not?" James demanded. "Aurors catch evil wizards, and Sirius's dad is evil."

"Unfortunately, dear, it's not that simple. I don't expect you to understand, but with Ministry hearings, it's all politics. I know the Head of Magical Law Enforcement and he wouldn't take kindly to an accusation against Orion and Walburga Black. I fear his involvement would make things worse, not better, for Sirius in the end."

"How do you know?" James argued.

"Because I know things about how the Ministry works that you don't," Mrs. Potter replied, her expression sad.

"I can't believe Aurors don't know the difference between right and wrong," James said, kicking at the air impatiently. "We have to do something. This isn't right."

"I know, James. Of course we'll help." Mrs. Potter dug in her purse and extracted a scrap of parchment and a quill. She scrawled something onto the parchment, folded it up, and handed it to Sirius. "Sirius, dear, here's our address. If it ever happens again, if you ever need a safe place, you're welcome at our house. Day or night, come over, I mean it. Flag down the Knight Bus—go out to the street and fling your arm out—and show the driver this address, and he'll take you to us. Do you understand?"

Sirius nodded.

"Now, let's go to the apothecary and get some dittany for those wounds. That'll heal you right up. Just write if you ever need more, and we'll send another bottle by owl right away."

"That's it?" James asked incredulously. "But what if he's too hurt and can't escape? There has to be a way to check on him and see that he's okay. Maybe there's something in this store!" He glanced around wildly, but there was nothing on the shelves around them but porcelain plates. Before Mrs. Potter could say anything, James bolted away and rounded the corner into the next aisle.

Mrs. Potter put her arm around Sirius and he leaned into her, feeling warmth spread through his limbs. Sirius was grateful that nobody was asking him to speak anymore. Together, they followed slowly after James.

"Hey, Mum, I think I found something!" his voice came from several aisles away. When he emerged, he was carrying two simple hand mirrors. "Look, Two-Way Mirrors! This might work!"

Sirius took one of the mirrors and held it up. To his surprise, rather than seeing his own face reflected back at him, he saw James's delighted one. Sirius watched as the James in the mirror opened his mouth to talk. "Can you see me?" he asked Sirius.

Sirius nodded and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Can you see me?"

"Yeah!" the James in the mirror cried. "Perfect! I can keep one, and you can keep the other, and we can talk everyday over the holidays now. That way, if you're ever in serious trouble, I'll know and we can come rescue you!" And then he disappeared.

Sirius put down the mirror. James had also set his mirror down and was pleading with Mrs. Potter to buy them.

"Relax, James, I think it's a great idea," she said, smiling. "It'll keep you two boys connected and it will just look like a normal mirror if Sirius's parents ever find it."

While Mrs. Potter went to purchase the mirrors, Sirius looked down and realized he was still trailing Madam Malkin's robes by one arm. "I guess we should go back and apologize to Madam Malkin for running out on her," he said to James sheepishly. "But can you—can you promise not to say anything about this to anyone else?"

James nodded. "As long as you're okay and we found a way to help you. It…it really bothers me when I can't help someone who needs it." He sighed. "Sod your family, Sirius, I mean it. You should come live with me. You could be my brother—I've always wanted a brother."

Sirius thought about his own brother Regulus, guided along by their mother like a silent little shadow. Regulus, who had barely said five words to Sirius all summer, and who turned his head the other way whenever he saw Sirius's welts.

"Brothers," Sirius mused. "I like that."