Written for QLFC Round 6 as the Falcons' Captain.
Prompt: Angus Buchanan/Sirius Black I (chaining from my Seeker, who chose Elladora Black and paired her with Angus)
Word Count: 1947
Warnings: Implied child abuse (and possibly murder)
Much thanks to Piper (Thispiper) and Priyanka (ForeIsketParadise) for looking over. You guys are phenomenally supreme, and I owe you my life many times over at this point!
Magicless
Sirius Black, the first of his name, was born a squib. He was eight years old when he died. Few knew of his existence, and even fewer remembered him, one of them a little squib boy two years younger than he was.
-o-
Two eyes blinked back at him from under the blankets. Angus wasn't supposed to be here, Phineas had said they could only hide on the third floor, but if they didn't think he could be here, they couldn't find him, right?
He might be the littlest one who was playing the game, but he was so going to win!
Until he found another boy hiding in the room, blankets piled over him.
"Who are you? This is my hiding spot!" Angus then lowered his voice, remembering he was supposed to be hidden. "What are you doing here?"
A face peered out from between the blankets. The other boy wasn't much older than Angus, and he looked quite like Phineas, but Angus hadn't ever met him before.
"I'm Sirius." Angus winced at the other boy's voice; it seemed so dry, as if he didn't speak very often. "Who are you? This is my room."
"Oh." Angus gave the other boy a sheepish look. "Sorry, I'm hiding. From my friends, and my brothers, and my mean sister."
"You're one of Buchanan's lot, aren't you?" Sirius asked, sitting up. He looked small, maybe that's why he wasn't playing with them?
"I'm Angus, nice to meet you."
Sirius frowned. "You're not supposed to be here."
"I know." Angus bit his lip. "Why aren't you playing with us? Are you not five yet?" He lifted a hand to show the other boy five fingers, in case he didn't know his numbers yet.
Sirius' scowl deepened. "I'm almost seven!"
"Then why aren't you playing with us?"
Sirius didn't answer for a long moment, then he started burrowing back in his blankets."Go away." When Angus didn't move, he glared at him. "Get out of my room!"
Angus sighed and peered out into the hallway, then turned back to the older boy. "Can I please hide here? I won't disturb you."
The other boy seemed to contemplate, then nodded. "Fine, don't bother me, though."
"Thanks," Angus muttered, then shuffled over to the desk, sitting down in the chair. He looked around the room curiously, but it was so bare. His own room had Quidditch posters—for both the Falcons and the Kestrels, as he shared the room with his older brother Hamish, but that was okay—and a wireless, and he had a huge pile of stacks. This boy's room had just a bed, a dresser and a desk. And a huge shelf of books. There were books everywhere. On the desk, on the floor, on the boy's bed, even.
Do you like to read? He wanted to ask. He, himself, couldn't read a lot right now. He knew some alphabets, but he was learning more every day, even though he didn't quite enjoy that as much as playing with the Quidditch balls in the backyard with his siblings. Their father wouldn't let them fly, claiming they would learn that at Hogwarts.
He opened his mouth to voice the question, then pressed his lips together. He'd promised not to say anything. Angus jutted out a lip and brought his legs up on the chair, not caring that it was rude. He drew his knees to his chest and placed his chin on top, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. This was boring.
He'd just about made up his mind to go back down, even if it meant losing again, when a tiny voice cut through the monotonous silence.
"I'm a Squib." Sirius wasn't looking at him, but there wasn't anyone else in the room, so it had to be him who had spoken. "That's why I can't play with you."
Angus frowned, he didn't know what a Squib was. Was it like a Niffler who could find them by sniffing out their gold? He asked as much, and Sirius let out a startled laugh.
"No, I'm not a Niffler." The other boy snorted again, and Angus glared at him. Sirius sobered up then. "I can't do magic."
"Oh," said Angus. "I can't, either."
Sirius sat up at that. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that, okay? And for Merlin's sake, don't ever let anyone hear you say it." He was shaking like a leaf, and Angus moved to sit on the bed by his side.
"I won't. Why, though?"
"Just don't."
"Okay," Angus said in agreement, just to placate the other boy. "Mother says I'm still young, I'll get it soon."
"I hope so." Sirius' voice was thin, and then he turned away and buried himself back into the pile of blankets. "Now go away," he added, his voice muffled, and Angus complied. The room had started to feel suffocating anyway.
-o-
Angus was in Sirius' room again—he always sneaked up for a while whenever he visited—and the boy had come out of his blanket-cocoon for once. The two were playing chess—it was the only game Sirius had, and his pieces didn't move on their own. Neither of them were very good at it anyway, Angus wasn't even sure how to move half of the pieces, but it gave them something to do.
The younger boy bit his lip, considering whether or not to voice what was on his mind. Before he could chicken out, he spoke up. "I don't think I have magic either, Sirius."
The piece in Sirius' hand clattered down onto the board, then rolled over onto the bed, taking along three more pieces. "What? Why would you even say that?"
"All my siblings can move stuff around, even young Leo, and he's just over four. And the potions won't work on me, and the broom never jumps to my hand whenever Flora lets us touch hers, and—" Angus paused mid sentence, frustration building up inside of him. "I know you don't want me to be a Squib, but I can't feel it, Sirius. I know I don't have magic."
The other boy gaped at him, and Angus scowled. "Okay," Sirius breathed. "I believe you." Angus knew he didn't, but he nodded.
"I'm a Squib," he said again, just to stress upon the fact.
"Angus, if you're one, you can't let anyone know, okay?"
"But why?"
Sirius scowled at him. "Do you ever see me at the lunches or the dinners? Or with you lot, when you come over to play? I'm always just holed up here, hidden from the world. I'm an abomination, and they hate me for it."
Angus felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Why hadn't he ever thought more about Sirius' situation? He stood up, feeling the urge to leave this room that always felt stale, the air stifling. Did Sirius just live in this prison all day, all night, forever?
Would he, too, have the same fate, if someone were to know?
"I gotta go," he said. Sirius' eyes were wide and wet, and Angus wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the words. He turned around and left.
-o-
The next couple of times after that incident, Angus hadn't snuck up, but today he knew he had to.
"Oh, it's you." Sirius' voice was flat, and even though just the boy's face was poking out of the blankets, he looked more exhausted than ever.
"Yeah," Angus said, "my older brother and sister know."
"What?" Sirius scrambled to sit up, and his voice was the loudest Angus as ever heard. But as the blankets fell away, Angus flinched back at the frail figure that came into sight.
"What happened to you?"
"Why do they know?" Sirius asked urgently, completely ignoring Angus' question. "Why would you tell them?"
"It's fine," Angus said, and Sirius flailed his arm around at that.
"No, it's not!"
"Hey, hey, Sirius. It's okay." Angus shuffled forward and squeezed the boy's arm. "They figured it out, and they'd already suspected. They say they'll protect me."
Sirius had still been protesting in his hold, but at that, the fight seemed to leave him. The older boy looked up at Angus with fearful eyes, and his voice was small when he asked, "Are you sure?"
Angus nodded fervently. "Very. They keep all my secrets, and I keep all theirs. It'll be alright."
"You have to make it work, Angus." Sirius' words were laced with anguish and worry. "You have to," he repeated. "You can't let them know. You gotta live."
Angus nodded, even as Sirius kept repeating the same words over and over. He stayed there for longer than he ever had, leaving only when the other boy had fallen into a fitful sleep.
As he walked out of the door, Angus' heart felt heavy. He would keep his word to Sirius.
-o-
It was months later that Angus returned to the Black family home. The few times he had played with Phineas, his friend had come over to their house. He hadn't exactly told the other boy he knew Sirius, just like he'd kept the other thing a secret.
When he sneaked up to the fifth floor after lunch, the hall felt too quiet. Not that there had been any noise earlier, but everything seemed too… abandoned. Two doors down the hall, the door to Sirius' room stood ajar, and Angus felt an ice-cold claw grip his heart. He ran to the door he had stumbled upon more than a year ago, not caring if someone caught him.
The bed was made, just one blanket folded in the corner. All the books were back on the shelves, and they, too, looked abandoned. Everything was so pristine, the staleness of the air gone, and Angus felt his throat choke up.
You cannot tell anyone. They will disown you and leave you on the streets, if they don't kill you.
That was what Sirius had once said. Angus stood in the room for another moment, chewing his lip hard to keep the tears in, then shoved his trembling hands inside his pockets and walked out. He wouldn't let his parents know. Hamish and Flora had already promised to help. He wouldn't ever tell anyone else that he couldn't do magic, until he couldn't keep it a secret anymore.
Right now, though, he just hoped they'd made Sirius leave, and that he would see the boy someday.
-o-
Angus walked and walked and walked, dragging his trunk behind him. He'd already ditched all the magic spell-books, and the wooden stick that wouldn't work for him. He'd dried up all his tears, and his legs had fallen numb on the journey from Hogwarts to the place he used to call home.
Now, he was running on sheer emotion. He didn't have a family, or friends, or money. He was eleven, and he was all alone.
He thought of Sirius, the boy whose warnings had let him have a good life until now. Where was he now? Had he been abandoned, too? Was he even alive? Would Angus ever find him, now that he was going to be a Muggle?
He shook his head. That was all uncertain. For now, all he could do was make a life for himself. So what if he didn't have magic? He was going to live.
-o-
Angus Buchanan was born a squib. He was eighty years old when he died. He died a famous man, and both the Muggle and the Magical world remembered him. But as he breathed his last, he thought of a little boy who had saved his life.