The last few days of the term dragged on endlessly, full of missed meals and little sleep and heavy silences. The Marauders almost never talked to each other—Remus spent nearly all of his time in the library, studying for exams he'd already taken, while James flew around the abandoned Quidditch pitch from dawn until dusk practicing goal throws and Sirius and Peter huddled wordlessly on opposite sides of the Gryffindor common room. The fifth years threw one of the craziest parties the castle had ever seen to celebrate the end of O.W.L.s, something the Marauders usually would revel in, but not one of them attended it.
It was obvious that something had happened between the four of them, and everyone at school was curious. Sirius did his best to ignore them, though he wound up having to use the Bat-Bogey Hex to get rid of some particularly persistent second years. He didn't have the energy to try to think up a fake explanation, nor did he care to—without the Marauders, Sirius found he couldn't care about much of anything.
He was almost relieved when the Hogwarts Express came to bring everyone back home, though of course things did not improve for him once he was back with his family. Regulus disappeared less than a week after the end of school, and Sirius's parents refused to tell him where he'd gone. He assumed it wasn't anywhere good.
Sirius spent as much time as possible locked in his room, sneaking out whenever he could at night to swipe some leftovers from the kitchen or work on the motorbike he kept in a dilapidated shed on a nearby abandoned lot. Slowly the scar on his head from Snape's curse faded to a thin pinkish streak he could only see when he pulled back his hair—the sight of it was a constant reminder of what he'd done that day, and he hated it so much he could hardly stand to look in a mirror, his eyes always roving to search for it amidst his hairline.
Every couple of days, Sirius would pull out the two-way mirror James had bought him and spend a few hopeful minutes staring into it, wondering if he'd be able to see his friend on the other end. But he never did; James had left his mirror stuffed among his luggage, out of sight.
Sirius had more posters of Muggle girls in bikinis than ever before plastered to his bedroom walls, along with cutouts of motorbikes and a pair of scarlet Gryffindor banners. He had a record player as well, which he used to blare Muggle rock music throughout the house and anger his parents. One particularly dreary evening in mid-July, Sirius was halfway through "Stairway to Heaven" when his mother screeched suddenly, "SIRIUS ORION BLACK! TURN OFF THAT FILTHY DRIVEL AND GET DOWN HERE, NOW! WE HAVE GUESTS!"
Sirius was surprised enough by this that he actually complied; the house had been empty of everyone but him and his parents and Kreacher for weeks. He left his room for the first time all day and peered over the landing beyond it to find the entryway decorated with green-and-silver banners and garlands, as if some big celebration were about to take place. He slipped downstairs and pressed himself into a little hall off the entryway to observe the goings-on.
It wasn't long before the promised guests began to arrive: first Sirius's cousin Narcissa and her husband Lucius Malfoy, then the Lestranges and the Notts. A few more witches and wizards Sirius didn't know came after them, though he could guess from their dark hoods and concealing sleeves that they were Death Eaters. A shiver passed down his spine at the sight of them—although his parents had never become Death Eaters themselves, their involvement with Voldemort's supporters was increasing every year.
The final guest to show was someone Sirius would never have expected to see in his house: a scrawny, greasy-haired teenager in tattered robes, shuffling along with his head down. Snape.
For one brief, horrible moment, Snape locked gazes with the half-hidden Sirius, and all the memories of what had passed between them flashed before Sirius's eyes. Snape's expression was filled with such intense hatred that Sirius wondered for a moment if he would try to attack him here in his own house. He almost wanted him to, wanted him to try anything—but then Snape turned away and the moment was over.
Finally Sirius followed the trickle of guests into the drawing room, a lofty space with a fireplace the size of the Gryffindor common room's and a massive tapestry of the Black family tree, singed in spots where forgotten Blacks had been burnt off by Walburga or her ancestors for marrying Muggle-borns and other heinous crimes. Kreacher was serving drinks, accompanied by two other house-elves his parents must have commissioned; clearly whatever they were celebrating tonight was a big deal.
Sirius pushed through the guests and over to his mother, who was sipping wine in a corner of the room with Narcissa Malfoy. "What's all this about?" he asked her.
"Your brother, of course," Narcissa said. "He's just returned from his initiation."
"Initiation?" Sirius's heart began to pound. "Initiation into what?"
But he knew. There was only one sort of initiation so many Death Eaters would have come to the Black house to celebrate. Regulus had become one of them.
"No." Sirius said it so quietly he wasn't entirely sure the word had made it past his lips. "No."
A sudden cheer erupted across the drawing room as Sirius's father pulled open the doors, stepping aside to reveal Regulus clad in the family's nicest dress robes.
Sirius was back across the room before he'd even realized he'd moved, shoving his way up to Regulus. He grabbed his brother's left arm and yanked up his sleeve to reveal the skull and snake branded onto his skin. Voldemort's symbol, the Dark Mark.
Regulus shoved him away. "What are you doing, Sirius?"
Sirius glared up at his father. "How could you let him?" he growled. "He's fifteen! He has no idea what he's done to himself!"
"You don't get to decide what I do, Sirius." Regulus looked embarrassed—everyone in the room had gone quiet at Sirius's outburst, their eyes fixed on the three Blacks by the door. Snape's eyebrows were raised in startled surprise—God, why did he have to be here?
"He's a monster, Reg," Sirius said, slightly quieter. "He doesn't give two single shits about you; he'll send you to your death as soon as it's to his advantage. Think about what you're doing, Regulus."
"Regulus has brought honor to our family by taking the Dark Mark," Orion Black said, placing a firm hand on his younger son's shoulder. "Just like his cousin Bellatrix before him. The Dark Lord is the most powerful wizard of his generation—you should be proud he chose your brother to be one of his disciples."
"So why haven't you joined him, then, Dad?" Sirius's blood was searing through his veins. "You're too much of a coward to become a Death Eater yourself, but you'll let your son join up before he's even finished school? You bastard—you make me sick." Sirius had loathed his father for as long as he could remember, but never like this. His parents had molded Reg into a hateful fanatic just like them, and now it seemed he would have no way out.
Orion had gone very still at Sirius's words. "How dare you speak to your father like that?" he said through his teeth. He raised his wand, and Sirius braced himself for whatever curse would come out of it, already willing himself not to scream; then something flickered across Orion's face and he lowered the wand again. He turned to Regulus. "Regulus, deal with your brother for me."
Regulus blinked up at his father, startled. A wave of nausea twisted Sirius's stomach. He wouldn't dare….
Clenching his jaw, Regulus drew in a shaky breath and pulled out his wand. The two brothers locked eyes, gray on gray. They looked so much alike; perhaps Sirius would not have recognized the terror on Reg's face if it had not so resembled his own.
"Use mine, Regulus," said a voice from among the gathered crowd. Snape's voice. "The curse I taught you."
Regulus's mouth tightened. His eyes dropped from Sirius's, and he slashed suddenly with his wand. "Sectumsempra."
Sirius's chest was instantly sliced open, the force of the spell tearing through his shirt. He cried out in pain and shock and collapsed to the ground, stars swirling in his eyes. The curse hurt like hell, and even worse than that was the knowledge that Regulus had cast it, Sirius's scared, sensitive little brother…. And the spell was Snape's spell, the one that had ruined everything, and Snape had taught Regulus how to cast it….
The guests gave a scattered applause interlaced with murmurs of approval. Walburga had come over to join her husband and sons by the door; she stroked Regulus's hair affectionately. "That's my son," she said to him. "My one good son."
Sirius couldn't take it anymore. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced himself back onto his feet and glowered at his parents. All the years of abuse and ridicule and fear came welling up from within him, strong enough to make the air around him crackle with magic. His family had hurt him for the last time.
"Sectumsempra." He slashed his wand through the air as Regulus had, and Orion and Walburga fell over with a pair of shrieks, oozing blood all over. Regulus gasped.
"I'm getting out of here, Reg," Sirius said quietly to him. Walburga was screaming, and a commotion had arisen among the guests behind them; Sirius didn't have much time. "Come with me."
Regulus's eyes flitted anxiously between Sirius and his parents, finding the blood that covered all of them. Slowly he shook his head. Sirius had known he would, but he'd had to try.
A pair of hooded Death Eaters came to kneel around Orion and Walburga, tending to their wounds; another reached for Sirius, but he sent him flying backwards with a hasty "Depulso." And then he was off, running through the darkened halls of the house that hadn't truly been his home for years. A couple of people shouted after him, but he didn't listen; he wrenched open the door to 12 Grimmauld Place and slammed it shut behind him, refusing to look back. He never wanted to see this place again.
Night had fallen, and it had begun to rain outside, turning the earth under Sirius's bare feet to mud. He ran across the street, its asphalt biting against his heels, and towards the shed where he kept his motorbike—he blasted open its door with a Reductor Curse and dragged out his bike. He could hardly feel the gash in his chest, so wrapped up was he in his own emotions, though he could see it had stained his shirt almost entirely red.
Sirius had been working on his bike all summer, trying to enchant it to fly like a broom, but he'd never actually tried it out; Grimmauld Place was, after all, full of Muggles who'd find a flying motorbike quite peculiar. Tonight, though, Sirius didn't care. His bike was his fastest way out.
Squinting through the rain, he started the bike and raced it across the unkempt grass of the lot, splashing through puddles and mud; just as he was about the reach the road, he leaned back and pulled up forcefully on the handlebars, prompting the bike to take to the skies. With a massive roar, its wheels left the ground one at a time and brought Sirius into a steep upward climb through the air. He held on as tightly as he could with his hands and knees as the bike rose above the homes of Grimmauld Place and into the open sky beyond. It wasn't until the neighborhood had vanished into darkness that Sirius finally allowed it to level out.
It was then that he realized he had absolutely no idea where he was going. He had no money and nowhere he could stay, at least not until school started again in September. He was homeless, and he was bleeding, and he needed help.
His bike seemed to know what to do before he did; it swung around to point north, the direction of Lincolnshire and Lindsey Wolds and James Potter. Sirius had been to James's house so many times before, and he knew his way to it by heart. Other than Hogwarts, it was the only place he had ever really felt at home.
Sirius just had to hope that, after everything he'd done to ruin their friendship, James still cared enough about him to let him in.
