Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Sorry. Wish I did, though. Then Sirius would be alive and so would Dumbledore and Voldie would be cool. But he isn't. So I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: Hey, here I am, with an idea I cooked up not too long ago. Next chappie will be up shortly. Review, if you want, or just read. Dedicated to my little sister, Purpledragongirl, who happens to be the inspiration for Mel.
The Minstrel of Diagon Alley
Chapter 1 - It Hurts
"Sirius?" called the seven-year-old as she knocked on her cousin's door. There was a moment of fumbling, along with a thump and a string of curses. Menalippe winced, guessing that Sirius had just fallen out of bed. She didn't blame him; it was just a bit past midnight and he would be quite groggy from sleeping for about three hours already.
The small girl settled herself near the door, still standing, for it hurt to sit. She gently cradled her left arm, which was bent at an unnatural angle between the elbow and wrist. Bruises decorated much of her visible body, and one long scar was laid on her right cheek. She was used to the nightly beatings, from her father when he came home from work. Normally, they didn't result in anything major; she was just seven, after all.
Just then, the door opened, and a rather tired-looking Sirius Black opened the door. At age 16, he was just below six foot, and had the muscles of a Beater. His long, black hair lay in a rumpled mess, covering his gray eyes. He blinked for a second, looked around, and finally saw his cousin.
"Mel?" He took one look at her appearance before ushering her into his room. Closing the door behind her, he murmured 'Lumos'. Eight candles immediately lit. "Mel, what's wrong?"
Menalippe sniffed once. "Siri... it hurts..." She sniffed again.
Sirius knelt down. "Your arm?" Mel nodded. "Can I see it?" Mel nodded again, trusting her cousin. He reached out and took her arm with the utmost care, barely putting pressure on it.
Inwardly, he swore. Damn you, Corvas, for doing this to her. She'll never trust anyone after you, you damn bastard. Damn you to hell for what you've done. Looking back into the gray eyes similar to his own, Sirius made a decision. She can't stay here. She'll get killed, at the rate this is going. He gave her back her arm, than made her sit on the bed. When she winced, he had her lay down.
Sirius knelt down so that they were at eye level. "Mel," he began, "do you want to leave here?"
She sat up. "No! You can't stay here alone!" Tears pricked her eyes again. Sirius winced. He hated it when she cried. I also hate it when she gets hurt. Mel winced once and her right hand twitched toward her broken arm.
"Mel, no, I'll be coming, too. Do you want to go?" The teen brushed the girl's dark brown hair from her face. Mel's eyes were lit with hope. She deserves so much better than this, thought Sirius grimly.
"Really? We can go?" As Sirius nodded again, she squealed. The gleeful look in her eyes was quickly replaced, however, by the former pain.
"Listen, Mel, just stay in here and be quiet." Mel nodded quickly. "I'll go and pack your things, then come back here and pack mine. After that, we can fly on my broom to..." he trailed off, wondering where they could go. Sirius would hate to impose a young girl on Mrs. Potter, his first idea, but where else was there? The two fugitives would certainly be searched for; a public place would not do. Remus' house was too small, and his family didn't have enough money to support another two children, and Peter's was out of the question. Deciding that he could easily pay back Mrs. Potter for the money she might spend on them, "We can fly to James' house. Would you like that?" Mel blinked uneasily, than nodded. Sirius carefully opened the door to the hallway and crept out and down the hall to the girl's room.
Just after, another wave of pain and nausea swept over Mel. Whimpering quietly, she doubled over and willed herself not to throw up. She clamped her eyes shut against the growing throb of her arm and lower back. Nothing besides the pain penetrated the growing darkness; as the arms of unconsciousness wrapped around her, she blearily whispered her cousin's name, than all was black, and she knew no more.
Sirius returned a few minutes later to Mel curled up in a tight ball, seemingly sleeping. Setting down her small blue bag, he gathered what school supplies he had, a few sets of clothes, his wand, and anything else deemed necessary and irreplaceable. Carefully fastening these two packs together with string, he set off to find his broomstick, a Silver Arrow. It appeared in a closet two floors up; he brought it down and went back into his room.
Hoisting the two bags on his back, he went to wake up Mel. "C'mon, we're leaving, now." When he got no response, he carefully poked her head. She didn't respond. "Mel? We're going. You need to wake up." Sirius shook her slightly, careful of her broken arm and numerous cuts. When he still got no response, Sirius began to panic. "Mel? Mel. Mel... Mel! Menalippe!"
What happened? Why isn't she waking up? Oh, God, Mel... Sirius' panicked mind searched through everything he knew in hopes to solve this new problem. Alright... fretting won't do anything. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Sirius immediately did as his mind told him and felt better for doing so. Now, what do we know, why could she not be waking up?
She's dead... A shudder ran through Sirius' body at the thought; he quickly pushed it away, before his over-imaginative mind went haywire. No. She's breathing. Did she faint?
No. She would have woken up by now.
Then... she must have blacked out. But why?
Remus' voice shot through his mind like a shot in the night.
"It's the pain that's the worst, though," said the golden-haired boy as he lay in his bed in the hospital wing. James, Peter, and Sirius sat by him, having witnessed for the first time their companion's monthly transformation. "It feels like... thousands of knives tearing at your skin, and all of your bones breaking at the same time, and your muscles feel like they've just been through a meat grinder. Sometimes, it hurts so badly, that I just go unconscious, and don't wake up again until the moon's set."
Did Mel black out from the pain?
"Mel, come on," he whispered, even though the girl could not hear him. Gently lifting her in his arms (for he was not allowed to use magic, being underage), Sirius threw open the window in his bedroom. He held his hand out over his broom, and it immediately shot up, knowing its owner's whims. Sirius mounted the broom, set Mel in front of him and steered himself toward the window. Carefully ducking the top of the frame, they slid outside without a problem. Sirius turned; he shut the window before setting his sights towards the stars. They glided noiselessly through the clouds, Mel back in his arms, their packs on his back, the countryside passing below him, old life of sorrow behind them, a light of hope ahead in the clear night.