29 June 1975

12 Grimmauld Place

TWELVE DEAD IN LONDON, DOZENS WOUNDED IN ATTACK. AUTHORITIES STUMPED.

In a shocking turn of events, Minister Jenkins calls for stricter border restrictions… has issued a warrant for Italian national accused of aiding suspected attacker… American MACUSA President under diplomatic pressure after refusing to uphold extradition treaty…

Leaning slightly forward, Sirius squinted to read the rest of the paper detailing yet another attack carried out by werewolves… or was it, vampires this time? From this distance, it was anyone's guess. Although infrequent, those headlines still left a bitter taste in his mouth. It just didn't make any sense. An attack there, another over here. There was no discernable pattern to pick at and analyze for some meaning. It was just senseless murder. Even worse was that it had become increasingly clear over the past few weeks that no one in the Ministry had a single clue what to do with the inconvenient truth that killers were hiding among them. At first, it had started as a rumor whispered in the back of pubs, but it finally reached his ears after an attack on an Unspeakable. How was it possible for these people to disappear without a trace every time the Aurors were dispatched?

And all the Wizengamot seemed to do these days was argue whether the attackers were Grindelwald fanatics overlooked during the mass arrests in the 50s or some disgruntled werewolves. They preferred the latter, and so did the Minister who announced that some poor ministry worker had been killed in the chaos, and though tragic, it was just another case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. All was not well, but Sirius would never know it in Grimmauld Place. His family continued on with their lives as if none of it mattered.

"—Hmmm." The creases around Aunt Lucretia's eyes deepened as she flipped through the pages with more vigor than Sirius had seen from her in a long time. With one final sigh, she crumpled the paper and tossed it aside without even the slightest sense of decorum. Though she remained as silent as the dead, his mother's judgement rang loud and clear even to Sirius, who sat across from her. What was it that clued him in? The scowl gracing her lips (a telltale sign he'd grown familiar with over the years) or was it the almost undetectable twitch of her left eye when Aunt Lucretia let out another groan.

"Finished, are we now?" His mother said dryly and beckoned Kreacher forward with a lazy twirl of her hand. The house-elf needed no more instruction before ridding the crumpled pages scattered across the floor with a quick snap of his fingers. "That was hardly necessary. Orion met with him shortly after Sirius was discharged. You know how diligent your brother is with these types of matters."

"Did he now?" Aunt Lucretia arched her eyebrow. "Whatever for? Does Orion truly believe that senile wart has the gall to publish anything about our family after that little incident with the Malfoys? Unless… you don't think that—"

"It's too early to say, but only a fool would bite the hand that feeds him. Hutchins ought to have realized by now that he wouldn't be employed, much less Chief Editor had it not been for my father's generosity."

"Here, I thought he'd last another year at least."

Nodding her head in agreement, his mother kept her composure. "It is only a matter of time before he's ousted. The Wizengamot has been most displeased with how those marches were covered. I'm told the old man's even lost Crouch's favor."

"You don't say!" Aunt Lucretia gave a conspiratorial smile. "I thought Crouch had lost his touch. Have you told Druella yet? She's rather fond of Hutchins, you know."

With a scoff, his mother remarked, "Cygnus will inform her in due time. I doubt your brother will be too pleased with another bout of her hysterics."

"I, for one, quite enjoy her hysterics." Aunt Lucretia let out a hearty cackle. "I don't think she'll kick up a tantrum this time around. Have you not heard about what happened with the Vaughn girl? It is all anyone can talk about."

"Who? I don't believe I know anyone by that name?"

"How cruel of you, Burgie. Was it not last summer our dear Cissy nearly cursed her hand off for trying to snatch Lucius from right underneath her?"

His mother's lips twitched. "As I recall, she nearly lost her head."

With a pursed smile, his mother visibly puffed up in pride at Narcissa's homicidal rage. It didn't come as a surprise to him that Narcissa had nearly maimed someone; it was just another instance of a Black losing their temper, after all. Stifling a snort behind his hand, Sirius's eyes met those of his mother. Though he had yet to utter a single word that day, it appeared that his mother had already had enough of his antics. Pushing her any further would simply result in another one of their hour-long screaming matches. If that was the case, Sirius hoped that his mother would at least have the decency to wait until Aunt Lucretia left. He didn't want a repeat of last year. It was bad enough that Uncle Cygnus and Alphard had borne witness to his mother throwing a fit over him piercing his ears, but who could forget the murderous scowl on his father's face as Aunt Druella wailed on about ungrateful children and how they would be the death of them all. Family reunions were just the best.

"When I heard she ran off, I didn't think much of it. I mean, who could blame her? If I had a mother like that, I would not dare show my face in public. She was missing for a week until that awful Goyle woman saw her in Vienna not a week after the engagement was broken—"

"How riveting." His mother interrupted, seemingly unamused by Aunt Lucretia's antics. Then again, when was the last time Sirius had ever seen her laugh? Not in his lifetime at least.

"Listen to me—" Aunt Lucretia teetered with excitement. "They said it was a mutual separation, but no one was stupid enough to believe that. You think Nott would go through all that trouble for them to break off the engagement." She lowered her voice. "The truth is that the girl eloped with some muggle!"

"A muggle?" That caught his mother's attention.

"It was a scandal waiting to happen when they sent her away."

"I expected nothing less from a family like that," his mother said stiffly. "What's odd is how desperate Nott was for them to wed. Were they truly so desperate they'd stoop to such filth? Eight squibs in less than two generations. That alone should have served as sufficient warning to their pedigree." Then sniffing, she added, "one does not make a wife out of the ill-bred."

Pedigree was such an ugly word, yet those three syllables defined him. It was all about upholding the pride of dead ancestors who turned in their graves every time he breathed. Every action he took was dictated by that vile word. His mother wasn't fooling anyone, much less Sirius with all her talk of pedigree and blood status. All it did was bring them one step closer to madness. One wrong move and they'd fall over the edge just like House Gaunt. Which pureblood family hadn't heard of that walking, talking disaster? The last heir locked up in Azkaban, disgraced, penniless, and so unremarkable that no one could quite remember his name.

For all their blood superiority, the demise of the Gaunt line ended on page ten, buried under stories about the muggle war. Even his mother, a fresh-faced debutante when the scandal broke, looked down upon them with such disdain that one would think they were blood traitors. They were so utterly pathetic and useless that they couldn't even die out with some sort of macabre dignity.

"His son is not much to look at," Aunt Lucretia droned on. "He is not even pleasant to be around. Ghastly boy, if you ask me. It would not surprise me in the least if that girl was Nott's only option. Merlin knows all the good ones are being snatched up. Besides, who would want to be married off to such a brute?"

"Is that so," his mother said softly, a contemplative look on her face. "He could have waited for a better prospect. Isn't the Greengrass girl due to debut this year?"

"She is set to be the most promising one this season," Aunt Lucretia said with a mischievous glint in her eye. "It would be a shame for her to be wasted on the likes of Nott."

"What about the Carrow girl? I am told she is yet to make a match."

"Poor thing came out four years ago. No one's called on her yet, and I doubt that—"

The conversation bore on, and it was suffocating, to say the least. It felt even more uncomfortable than those early morning practices that had Sirius clinging onto his broom with nearly frozen fingers. He fiddled with a loose thread dangling from his sleeve, silently hoping that they'd spare him of another hour of utter boredom. The stiffness of his collar only worsened the growing pit in his stomach as Sirius watched them nibble on pastries. These robes, though elegant, were outdated and much to his displeasure, one of the many ways that his mother asserted her authority over him.

"I daresay this an opportune moment for all of us."

Drifting off to thoughts of his friends and the mischief that awaited him come September, Sirius only half-listened to his mother's cold voice.

"Who told you that?"

How long would it take Filch to find all their stashed dungbombs? Between the four of them, they had more than enough for the entire castle. Not even Evans could resist smiling after witnessing a particularly loathsome sixth-year Slytherin flee the bathroom with one hand pulling his trousers up while the other plugged his nose. That had landed them in detention for nearly a month, but it was worth seeing them push and tug at each other to get out. Speaking of Evans, would she finally crack this year? He wholly doubted it, but there was only so much Sirius could withstand hearing about how green her eyes were without wanting to bash his head into the nearest rock.

"Do you expect to find a better match somewhere else? I don't know why you're so resistant—"

Remus would probably send word as soon as that shiny prefect badge landed in his lap. Sirius could imagine it now – the lanky mousy-haired boy showing up to the platform with a shy smile that would soon turn to gloating as soon as he laid his eyes on Sirius. He'd lean toward him and announce how this year he wasn't going to let Sirius and James run wild, but like always, Remus would never keep his promise.

"I'm well aware of our options, Lucretia. You think I don't know how often that woman—"

What would James think if Sirius let his hair grow out like Brian May? A bold stylistic choice for sure, but it couldn't be any worse than that messy mop that James insisted on calling hair. An added benefit would be watching his father fret over it. He would put on a façade at first as if it didn't bother him in the slightest, but he would gradually lose that fight.

"I admit the woman is insufferable, but her daughter would be perfect for—"

Then there was the second week of October to consider, the inevitability of Peter trying out and failing to make the team for the fourth year in a row. Sirius wanted his friend to succeed, truly, but it was exhausting having to cheer up Peter while he moped around. The stout boy simply didn't have the skill to play Quidditch. He had nearly been knocked off his broom last time by some tiny second-year girl. Peter already struggled to stay upright on the ground, yet the boy insisted that making the team was the first step in his ingenious plan to get a girlfriend.

"Listen, you have until Yuletide to decide. If you don't act by then, the vassals will—"

"Is that a threat I hear? I have underestimated their stupidity."

What was it with his friends obsessing over girls? Even Remus had spent the last few weeks of school penning love poems to some older Ravenclaw he'd met in the library. Girls were more trouble than they were worth. Well, at least, the ones chasing after him with their love potions and heartfelt sentiments all wrapped up with a shiny bow.

"Walburga, they are desperate. They have even suggested an American for Merlin's sake—"

"You are not serious, are you?"

He could not forget about MacDonald either. That relationship had been doomed from the start, and Sirius should have known better than to drag her along for months. The dreadful truth was that he had first sought her out as a way to enrage his mother. It had been after a particularly awful fight that Sirius had put his foot down. No more talk about Cassandra Selwyn, the gap-toothed, portly ten-year-old that his mother had considered for the title of his future bride. MacDonald deserved better than that, but he had been so willfully ignorant that Sirius had missed the obvious. They just were not compatible as anything more than friends. Maybe he could make it up to her, but Sirius sorely doubted that Mary was eager to speak to him again.

"Even Alphard agrees… they already think there is something wrong with—"

Snapping him out of his half-asleep stupor, his mother hissed. "I'll have you know that I hardly care what my dim-witted brothers think. Orion and I will decide on one very soon, and you will be informed as will the vassals."

"We just want the best for our family." Aunt Lucretia stared ahead as if in deep thought before finally offering up a quasi-smile that did not reach her eyes. "You have until Yuletide, Walburga. Not a second more." She hesitated as if unsure of herself, and Sirius braced himself as Aunt Lucretia's glance turned toward him. "Your grandfather will summon you very soon. He's been rather grouchy lately, so do try to behave."

With another half-hearted grin, Aunt Lucretia slowly rose to her feet. Whatever she had come to accomplish had failed so spectacularly that not even the usually boorish woman dared to argue any further. "I suppose I will see you at the wedding then." She eyed him again. "Don't forget to pack him some new clothes. I'm told the Americans are rather picky about all that. Some rubbish about assimilating with the muggles."

A wedding? Sirius hadn't been told anything about that. Typical. He didn't even the energy to be annoyed anymore.

"How kind of them." His mother said, stone-faced. "I look forward to seeing your husband again. How long has it been this time? Two years?"

"Do not get me started!" Aunt Lucretia bemoaned. "The end of a five-hundred-year-old blood feud and that ridiculous man says he would rather spend the rest of the summer with his niece and her little band of miscreants."

"They have two boys, don't they?"

"And trying for another," Aunt Lucretia sneered. "You should see how they live! It is utterly appalling! There are mice everywhere. I cannot believe I spent all that time helping her find a respectable husband, and who does she choose? Arthur Weasley! The last thing this world needs is more Weasley blood."

13 July 1975

Unknown

Sirius had spent the last two weeks in his room, debating whether he should run away and lie low in some muggle village until his family was out of the country, but that presented too many logistical problems. First of all, he didn't have any muggle money, and it was too risky to go to James's as that was the first place his mother would look. Well, it didn't matter in the end because his mother had ordered Kreacher to keep an eye on him. Wherever he turned, that nasty house-elf was there mumbling to himself. Their first mistake was sending that dreadful creature ahead with the rest of the Black clan. Now here they were lost in a forest that seemed to indefinitely stretch on in every direction.

With a new set of black robes, polished shoes, and more product in his hair than ever before, Sirius trekked further along the path, watching his father stop and glance around as if he would somehow recognize their surroundings. For all he knew, they were on the wrong side of the world. Sirius's eyes darted back-and-forth from the radiant sunshine that cast itself over the tops of the trees, shrouding the leaves in a green-golden luminesce, to his mother stumbling ahead with her hand wrapped tightly around Regulus's bony arm. Even for the normally, pale boy, Regulus looked rather peaky, and Sirius didn't know whether that had to do with his nerves or the series of portkeys that had brought them to the middle of nowhere.

"Orion, we're lost," his mother scowled, lifting her muddied skirt as they traipsed through a thick section of brush. "I knew we should have gone with your sister."

"My sister doesn't know her left from her right," his father snapped back. "If I'm right, there should be another portkey just ahead."

Trudging forward, they walked closer to the spot his father had indicated, but by then, it had become clear that there was no portkey or sign of civilization, for that matter. It had been hours since they had started walking, and they were nowhere closer to finding their way out. These woods reminded him of the Forbidden Forest with its eerie silence that seemed to follow him. Sirius just couldn't shake that sinking feeling in his gut as they began to ramble up an incline that took them past a wide, mossy boulder. His father clearly shared the same sentiment, seeing as the older man's hand hovered over the pocket where he kept his wand. There was no way that Orion Black would let them die here. At least, not without a fight. For that, Sirius was grateful, but it was still his father's fault for bringing them there. The allure of acquiring a newly patented brewing method had been too strong for his father, who had brought them all here with the sole purpose of wooing the inventor. Had it not been for his father's greed, Sirius could have been at home sleeping in his bed at this very moment. A much better alternative to listening to Regulus moan about the holes in his new azure blue robes.

"Any more brilliant ideas?" His mother asked with distaste, unsuccessfully pushing strands of loose hair back into the braided updo that had taken her more than an hour to do. "Look at us," she lamented to no one in particular. "Our new robes are ruined."

"Mother, I'm sure Mr. Graves won't mind letting us freshen up before the banquet," Regulus said, his tone casual enough to express his own displeasure at the situation while still holding a semblance of calm for the sake of their mother.

"What about our luggage?" She exclaimed loudly; it echoed against the forest floor.

"I doubt anyone would want to steal your robes," Sirius muttered, feeling even more despondent as the path grew rockier. "Perhaps, they'll do us a favor and toss them out."

That earned him a sharp glare from his father, who now stood on the edge of a beaten, dirt trail that slithered downwards in the direction of a gurgling creek. Sirius joined his father and looked out to the horizon, feeling the cool breeze brush up against his sweaty, flushed face. His stomach turned as a sudden wave of fatigue hit him; Sirius staggered forward onto a patch of weeds underneath a large tree. As his hands touched the damp, cold ground, Sirius let out a groan as he felt another sharp pain in his abdomen. He did not know whether it was hunger, anxiety, frustration, or a mixture of all three. He clung onto the gnarled roots of the tree, deeply breathing in and out as drops of dew fell onto him from the tangled branches above. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath – an earthy scent of pine and wet dirt filled his lungs, but it did little to alleviate the tightening of his chest.

Sirius listened to the crisp snap of a twig underneath his father's dragon-hide boot. "We need to turn back," his father declared. "It will take us at least an hour to get back to the last portkey."

"Another hour?" Sirius heard his mother gasp. "It is nearly dark. Will you have us wandering around all night to find it?

"What would you have us do then?"

"Why don't you summon—"

"I would if I could—"

While the two continued to argue, Sirius stumbled to his feet and once more looked out to the red-and-orange horizon The sun had nearly set, it would grow dark soon, and though turning back was their only option, it did not seem very hopeful. For the briefest moment, he felt a strong urge to run down that dirt path and keep running until he found a spot where he could rest his head and drift off to the soothing whispers of the woods. He was brought back to his senses by Regulus's whining about his blistered feet. With an exasperated huff, Sirius turned back to the noises around them – the wind blowing past him, the rustling of leaves, the gentle bubbling of the creek, and a soft, mellow voice swelling with a wave of emotion.

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Sirius blinked once and then again when no one else seemed to notice. Did he imagine it?

Well, I've been afraid of changing 'cause I've built my life around you.

As soon as the insouciant voice began the next note, he took off with a leap down the path and ignored the shouts coming from behind him. He tore down the trail with sharp, painful breaths, and as he turned past the final curve, an open meadow filled to the brim with vibrant pink, yellow, and purple wildflowers came into view. His feet clambered to a stop right as a tall, dark-haired girl in a white blouse and red bell-bottom pants called out, "Georgie, don't forget to pick the purple ones!"

Sirius watched, breathless, as another girl emerged from the field with a basket full of flowers. This one wore a moss-colored dress with large pockets and a matching belt tied around her waist. Just like the other girl, she had long dark hair tied back with a white ribbon. "Did you find all of them?" This new girl asked. "I don't want to come back tomorrow. Make sure that Georgina doesn't forget about—"

"I just reminded her," the taller one said. "I think we have all of them anyway."

The other one nodded appreciatively before calling out again, "Georgie, hurry up! We're leaving you here if you're not done in the next minute."

There was more rustling and out of a bush came out a young girl, red-faced and covered in dirt. "Stop playing around, Josie! I'm going to tell mother."

"You can't tell mother if we leave you here," the one with the ribbon cackled. "We'll tell her that the fairies stole you. Isn't that right, Theodora?"

"The fairies," the little one said with a pout. "They don't live around here."

"How would you know? You've only been up here twice."

"There are no babies to steal."

"Not all fairies steal babies," the girl sang, dancing in circles around her sister. "Besides, if we switched you out for a changeling, I bet mother wouldn't even notice the difference."

The taller one, who Sirius assumed to be the oldest sister, watched in amusement as her younger sister crushed a purple flower with her foot and shouted: "No fairies live up here!"

"But they do," the older one said with a grin, joining in on the fun. "They live up the mountain, waiting until you've let your guard down and then…"

She pounced on the younger girl who squealed. "Let me go!"

The young girl squirmed out of her sister's grasp and ran from them. "Just you wait! I'm telling mother. You won't be laughing then."

"Don't go too far, or the fairies will get you!" The young girl disappeared behind a tree.

The girls erupted into giggles, and Sirius finally seized the moment to speak. "Excuse me?"

Their heads snapped toward him; the girls stared at him. He had just begun to lose his nerve when the girl in the dress spoke with a hesitant smile. "You lost, friend?"

He spluttered, his breathing still uneven, "as a matter of fact, we are."

"We?" The girl inquired, stepping closer to him. Her head barely reached his shoulder.

"Josie!" Her older sister snapped, eyeing him suspiciously.

"My family," Sirius clarified and pointed toward the trail that he'd just come down. "Up there."

"You looking for someone?"

"Alexander Graves?" Sirius said, unsure of himself. Would these muggles even know him?

A flash of recognition crossed her face. "You're not gonna find him here."

"Is this not New York?"

The older girl began to laugh as if Sirius had said the stupidest thing she had ever heard. "New York," she gasped. "You're a long way from New York."

"Where am I then?" He said rather shortly.

"You're not in New York; I can tell you that." She grinned, showing off a row of white straight teeth. "Did you hit your head or something?"

He could feel his face flush, "California?"

The girl roared in laughter, "He said California! Try again, kid."

"Theodora, shut it!" The shorter girl frowned, peering up at him. "You do look pale. Those fairies did a number on you. I just hope they didn't obliviate you. Can you remember your name?"

Just as he was about to introduce himself, the distant echo of his mother's shrill, loud voice pierced the silence. "Sirius Orion! Where are you?"

"It's nice to meet you, Sirius Orion." The girl stuck out her hand, which Sirius reluctantly took. Her hand was soft, a sharp contrast to the mud splattered on her face. Now that he was closer, he could see that someone had mended her dress with several brown patches. "I'm Josephine Lancaster, and you're about ninety miles away from Denver."

"Right, Denver," Sirius said, though he still had no idea where he was.

"I thought you British wizards were supposed to be smart." The older girl, Theodora, interjected.

"Well, you thought wrong." Sirius muttered, feeling a sharp pain in his temple. "You know, you're exactly how I pictured an American."

"Stunningly beautiful?"

"You read my mind."