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Chapter Text

The evening breeze tossed a dirty pamphlet across the illuminated cobblestones of Diagon Alley.

Sirius yawned, stuffed full of Sunday roast and relaxed by warm conversation. It was still novel, walking home to his apartment. The money his uncle had left him had all gone into the little flat. A place of his own. He was a Londoner at heart; he couldn’t stay at Godric's Hollow forever, with its big gardens and nosy muggles. Well, that’s what he told Prongs, at least. In truth, ever since he turned seventeen he’d anticipated the day he overstayed his welcome. No matter how many times Mr and Mrs Potter assured him he could live with them forever, a small part of him was convinced it was a lie. Not intentional. But a lie all the same. They didn’t know; they didn’t understand. One day, cowardice whispered, one day they will.

Sirius turned up his street, set as far from Knockturn Alley as he could manage. Missing posters crowded street poles. Another shop front had been boarded up this week. Three patrollers roamed at different points along the street. Even more Witch Watchers than usual were about, red robes billowing.

Half of them were there to watch the other, if the rumours were to be believed. The Ministry was trying to clamp down on the scandal before it broke but bad news travelled fast and these days fear nipped at its heels.

The Auror, Alastor Moody, had found three patrollers under the Imperius last fortnight. Wormtail had told him so over drinks. Pete’s mum worked as a clerk in the exchequer, which meant he knew more than most about was happening in the inner bowels of the Ministry. Crouch had introduced mandatory mind fortification training, Wormtail had said, everyone in Law Enforcement was clocking in extra hours for it. And even more to monitor the regular patrols. It wasn’t good – but what else could be done? How did they combat an enemy that turned friends into an spies without anyone noticing?

Sirius reached the print shop underneath his flat. It had been one of those places his parents would never visit. There had been an apartment by a haberdashery, another behind a Quidditch supply shop, he’d turned both down. The first to avoid his mother. The second to avoid his little brother. If Regulus had one love in the world, it was Quidditch.

It wasn’t that Sirius didn’t want to see him, just that he couldn’t imagine meeting. How could he begin to explain why he never came home anymore, when he didn’t entirely understand it himself? Sirius had left Hogwarts nearly a year ago and that was the last he’d seen of his brother. He kept an ear out, listening to the wireless whenever Slytherin played, so he knew that Regulus was doing fine without him.

Sirius reached the top of the rickety steps into his flat and waved his wand, unlocking the door and clearing the wards he’d set up. Another yawn pulled at his face. He stretched his arms high. Tomorrow, he had another day of job hunting to contend with. Half a year ago, he'd been intent on finding his passion. Now, with Alphard’s money running out, Sirius had decided eating every day was his passion and whatever helped him do that would suffice.

As he pulled out of the stretch and pushed open the door, he felt it. A wrongness that had no immediate cause but he recognised it anyway. He gripped his wand a little tighter, fully expecting to find a masked battalion on the other side of the door.

He wasn’t nearly so prepared to find what actually awaited him. Or rather who.

Candlelight flooded through the sitting room door, half ajar. Sirius edged closer until he could peer through the gap and there was his father. Seated, head in his hand, on Sirius’s favourite chair.

Sirius was suddenly furious. Caution fled and in its wake he threw the door open. It banged against the wall. He bypassed any questions and got straight to fury. “Get out.”

His father looked up. It struck Sirius, before anything else, that he had aged. Greys strands mixed with his thinning curls. Deep furrows lined his forehead. He looked old in a way he never had when Sirius had lived with him. How long had it been since they’d last stood in the same room?

“Sirius–”

“Is this our reception? I taught you how to be polite. You know better than this.”

Sirius turned to the side. Walburga Black, his mother, stood by the window. She gripped her elbows tightly. Her typical imperious stature seemed... tarnished. Her face drawn. Ruddiness under her make-up.

Something had happened, but Sirius didn’t care what. He stopped caring years ago.

“Politeness also dictates you don’t break into someone’s house,” Sirius pointed out. “But I appreciate your attempt at another etiquette lesson.”

“Son–”

“Don’t call me that,” Sirius snapped at his father. “I’m not your son. Not anymore.”

His father was still in his formal robes, the kind he always wore to the office. His lips formed a line. The fake warmth was replaced with familiar coldness. “I’ll cut to the chase then. What word have you heard of your brother?”

A jealous smile stretched across his face. “Is that it? You exiled me for him, and now you’ve come to rub it in?”

He shook his head. Typical. It was always about Regulus. Perfect, widdle Regulus who never stepped a toe out of line. Who never made the wrong friends because he never made any at all.

“This is serious,” his mother said.

“No, it’s Regulus,” Sirius replied just to be contrary. “It’s always Regulus. What have I done now to tarnish his good name? Wandered down the street? I’ve kept my head down–”

“We don’t have time for you have a tantrum,” she said.

He glared at her. “Oh? Then what’s keeping you here?”

“Your brother is missing.”

Sirius didn’t believe it. “Perhaps he nipped down to the Cauldron to get away from you two. He can look like anyone, you might have to look a look litt–”

“The tapestry,” Orion said. Struggling to get the words out, he started again. “The tapestry believes he’s dead.”

Sirius frowned, horrified for a second, before he realised at least one of them was lying. “Is he missing or is he dead?”

“Its magic is fickle,” Walburga said. She let go of her arms and strode towards them. “He is missing.”

Sirius could see in his father’s eyes that he didn’t believe that. 

“But… how?”

“You ought to know better than us,” Walburga said.

“Why?” Sirius asked incredulously. “Fath–” he looked at his father, “you’re in the Ministry. Surely you could make an inquiry. What would I know that you don’t?”

“You are a well-known blood traitor, Sirius,” he said, “with many friends of the same ilk.”

They weren’t…

They couldn’t.

“And what?” Sirius felt his composure faltering at the thought. “You think we go on wild hunts, targeting purebloods like you target muggles?”

“Perhaps not all purebloods.”

“Are you accusing me of killing my own BROTHER?” he shouted, not caring about the thin floors and the shop downstairs.

“No,” his father said softly. “But would it be so strange if one of your friends had?”

“For what reason!”

“For the obvious one, Sirius,” Walburga punctured. “Use that mind of yours for once. Your brother is missing and the Ministry has no idea where he is – so that leaves only one group left responsible for his mur– disappearance.”

“People…” Sirius took a shaky breath. “People go missing all the time.”

Especially these days.

He just never thought Regulus would be one of them. He tried to wrap his head around it again, but he couldn’t. Regulus was only seventeen. He was supposed to getting his NEWTs soon. It was his last year at Hogwarts and then he would off, following his passions of which he had a plethora. Quidditch, probably, if their parents let him. And, of course, they would. They let him get anyway with everything.

“He didn’t do this,” Orion said with a weight that left no doubt to whom he was.

Sirius frowned at him. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because Regulus was an honoured member of his company,” Walburga said – and Sirius’ was sure he’d been hit by a torture spell. A dark, malicious illusion. Because that wasn’t possible. Regulus could never be…

“A Death Eater?” The words near stuck in his throat, but he got them out. He felt like a little boy again, staring at a house elf’s head where it had joined the rest in the collection on the stairs. Faced with mortality. Faced with monstrosity. He looked at his father. “Tell me it isn’t true.”

“He joined a little over a year ago,” Orion said. “He has served the Dark Lord faithfully. There was a task he had been assigned but… we have not seen him since. There is only one conclusion to be–”

“That he went to murder someone and got himself killed? And your circles are so small that the only blood traitor you know is me.”

Sirius stepped back, into the wall, and near collapsed into it.

“If he died naturally, would you have come here? Would you have told me?”

“Must you make everything about yourself?” Orion said.

Sirius felt sick. A Death Eater? It couldn’t be true; Regulus was smarter than that.

“You’ll find out who did this,” Walburga said, “and then where he is, so we can bring him home. Then we will bring the scum who harmed him to justice.”

“Justice?” Sirius almost laughed. Wished he could. “You don’t think self defence against an active member of a murder cult is just? The Ministry is corrupt but it’s not that corrupt.”

“Enough,” Orion commanded. “Your brother is dead. You will take responsibility.”

The word lost all meaning to him. Responsibility. Once, it had been credited to keeping the House unblemished, pure and regal. To reach the impossible heights his parents set. Later, it had been to chase after his younger brother when he trod the right path – because Sirius was on the wrong one. Now, apparently, it was to accept blame for a death he had no part in.

He pulled at the strands of his hair, uncaring when his scalp protested.

“For what?” he said to his hand. “Not being a Death Eater too?”

 “No one expects that level of commitment from you,” Orion said, “least of all the Dark Lord. That being said, you have the best chance of tracking down the killer. Or, as is more likely, killers. I don’t care if you think it unjust to avenge him and I don’t expect you to have the honour to do it yourself but surely even you want answers.”

The worst part – he was right. Sirius did want answers, though probably not the ones his parents were searching for.

He cast back through his memories. It hadn’t been that long since he’d graduated. Over a year, his father had said. Sirius had still been at Hogwarts. He’d sat in the same Great Hall every day, with his brother in eyeshot. How could he have not noticed? Had there been anything different when it happened? Any sign at all?

He could think of nothing; it made him feel like a failure. He should have guessed – but even now he couldn’t see it.

Regulus had been his same withdrawn self. Despite being on the Quidditch team, a seeker at that, he had no friends. He held himself above everything and everyone that wasn’t their family. Everyone assumed it was out of arrogance, but Sirius knew it was fear. If Regulus let the vipers of the Slytherin’s nest see his soft, mushy, naïve little heart, they would have torn him apart and feasted on the pieces.

After all, that’s what their parents had done.

Beyond Regulus’ ill-suited character, Sirius couldn’t fathom why Voldemort would recruit him. Was it because he was a metamorphmagus? Was it that singular talent that had elevated him their parents’ eyes which ultimately  doomed him? There was no other reason Sirius could find. Regulus was quick on a broom, sure, but in the classroom or conversation? He was decidedly average. He wasn’t vicious or cruel or even particularly heated in his purism. No, he would much rather everyone live in hierarchical harmony, without a drop of blood spilled between them.

No wonder someone had managed to kill him.

Merlin.

What was he even thinking? Regulus couldn’t be dead. It was incomprehensible. It was impossible.

“If the Death Eaters are involved…” Sirius began, “maybe they’ve… done something and he’s in a statis or… something.”

“There are many dark spells that can give the impression of death where it can still be undone,” Walburga agreed. “Powerful magics.”

“I’ll ask around,” Sirius said and he meant it. If his baby brother was gone, he needed to know why, he needed to know everything. “But you need to leave.”

“That is not–”

“You let him become one of them! Where’s your responsibility? Are you taking the blame for your part?”

“How dare you insinuate this is our fault!”

“Who else’s could it be?”

“He joined without our guidance. He wanted to fight–”

“And you thought, what? That he’d be protected? You aren’t a stupid woman, Mother, so don’t pretend to me you didn’t know what happens in a war. You give him to a monster. You did it gladly, I know you, and anything that happens to him is your fault.”

“How dare you!”

“Walburga.” Orion stood. “We have no time for this. Sirius will search his circles, it is time we got back to ours. I do not doubt we know some of his followers. Regulus could not have found the Dark Lord otherwise.”

She must have been truly distraught because she gave up the fight. She looked away from Sirius. “Report to us when you find anything.”

Then she left. Orion right after her. They didn’t say goodbye, or thank you, or sorry.

They were gone yet their presence pervaded the empty space.

Sirius stared at his favourite chair and couldn’t imagine ever sitting in it again. The news they delivered hung in the air. Regulus was gone. Missing. Dead.

He waited for someone to arrive and tell him it was all a mistake.

But he lived alone.

Because he had grown up in the same house as his brother.

He realised as his watch clicked over the midnight, that he was waiting for Regulus. His heart imagined his little brother walking through his door and mocking him for believing their parents’ lies. Silly Sirius, truly thinking he was... but he wouldn’t. Not Regulus. He was too kind. He never mocked Sirius for any of it, merely watched him fail with worried eyes.

There had to be somewhere he could go, to be sure, to start believing it. But Regulus lived at Grimmauld; he had no one else close to him. Professor Slughorn? Sirius could certainly visit but not tonight. The old wizard would asleep and Sirius ought to bring back up. That man had always given him the creeps.

Still, it was the start of a plan, and that start was enough to unfreeze him. He made his way to his bedroom. He hadn’t bothered with a bedframe just yet; the mattress straight on the floor with a pile of sheets atop it. Living here had brought so much to his attention. There was so much he didn’t know – but his pride hadn’t shifted enough yet to let him ask the Potters. He would figure it out. How to cook. How to clean. He didn’t need anyone’s help.

But he did need to start with his plan.

He opened the old school trunk he used as a wardrobe and dug out a small mirror. It sat in his palm, reflecting the ceiling of James’s room.

Sirius sat on his bed, back against the wall. “Prongs,” he whispered. When there was no answer, he called louder, “Prongs... Prongs, mate. Wake up!”

There was a muffled grunt.

“Prongs.”

Fabric shifted. Footsteps on carpet. Then James was holding the mirror so close to his face Sirius could see up his nose. “Padfoot? Are you drunk again?”

“Where are your glasses?”

“Ah...” James looked away. “Somewhere.”

“I’m not drunk.”

I’m devastated. The feeling sat in his lungs, lodged there, untouched for now. He knew better than to prod at it, not when there was work to be done. “Will you visit Slughorn with me tomorrow?”

James frowned. “What for?”

Before Sirius could begin to explain,  James said, “Wait – I’m coming over. Let me in when I knock.”

Sirius didn’t think he could stand to be in the same room with anyone right then. Not even James.

“No, Prongs.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Just come tomorrow.”

But James wasn’t listening. He set the mirror down in his rush to go. “Be there in a tick.”

Sirius stared at the darkness in the mirror. No, he almost said, don’t come. He didn’t want to talk about this. But he heard James’ door close and it was too late. A few minutes later, there was a pop outside and James knocked loudly. Sirius didn’t move. He couldn’t bring himself to get off the bed, let alone open the front door. James made his way in anyway. Sirius had forgotten to lock it.

Prongs knocked, softer this time, on his bedroom door. There was little point, since it was halfway open already. James stepped inside, concern written across his face. “It wasn’t locked.”

“I know.”

“You should try to ward the door.”

“I know.”

“You alright, mate?”

“You didn’t have to come.”

James closed the door behind him. He flopped onto the bedside him. “’Course I did. Was it the roast? Are you sick? I’ll tell Mum if something didn’t agree with you…”

“No, it wasn’t the roast.”

Prongs frowned. His glasses were haphazardly sitting on his nose. “What’s wrong, Pads?”

Sirius shook his head. “My parents came.”

“Here?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Prongs reached out and started patting him down. “Did they hex you?”

“No.”

“What did they want? Blimey, they haven’t said a word to you in ages – why now? Because you got your own place?”

“…No.”

James pulled his hands away, having found no injuries. His concern only deepened. He knew Sirius’ avoided his family over more than just hexes and politics. He was waiting for answers – Sirius wanted to give them to him.  

“It was about Reggie.”

James’ expression hardened. He had always been Sirius greatest advocate, especially when it came to sneering Slytherins. “I won’t let him bother you.”

A laugh escaped Sirius’ lips. Unbidden and ill-fitting. “He’s never going to bother me again.”

Sirius threaded his fingers through his hair. He yanked at the strands. Needing pain. James brushed his hands away, clasping them, so Sirius couldn’t rip the hairs from his head like he’d done in third year. Worried hazel eyes watched him. “What do you mean?”

“He’s missing… They think he’s dead.” With the words out, the dam in his lungs gave out too. He shuddered through another breath as his throat closed up. “Regulus is dead.”

“What… how? Why?”

“Because he was one of them.” Sirius shook his head. He still didn’t understand how this could have happened. Why his mother let her precious boy do something so dangerous. Why Reggie would choose something so evil. “He isn’t… he wasn’t a bad person, Prongs. I don’t– He’s supposed to be the one that makes it.”

He buried his face in James’ shoulder. He couldn’t hold back the tears but maybe he could hide them. James’ grip on his hands tightened.

“Someone killed him. They think he went after someone and got ambushed… They want me to found out who.” He nearly choked on his misery. “What if I know them? How can I look them in eye…”and not want to kill them?

A sob silently escaped his lungs, heaving through him.

“They’ll understand,” James said. “You didn’t choose your family. They can’t blame you.”

For the first time since they met, Sirius was struck with the thought that James didn’t understand him. Eight years of perfect synergy, broken over a single line of comfort. James thought he was afraid they would hold it against him. As if misplaced fault wasn’t a taste he’d grown up swallowing. Sirius pulled away.

“It’s Reggie, James.”

James’ hands fell away, dropping into the sheets. “But you said he was a Death Eater.”

“That’s what they said. That he was a loyal follower but… He wouldn’t–”

“But he did.”

Sirius pursed his lips.

“Anyone loyal to that bastard deserves what they get.”

No, Sirius thought, even as he logically knew James was right. 

“He chose to go on that mission; it’s his own fault if he’s dead.”

“Stop.”

He didn’t want to hear it. It rubbed like salt on the wound of his grief.

“You know what those fanatics are like.  Snivellus and his buddies. Purists want people like Lily and Mary to suffer; or better yet, never exist in the first place. Throwing slurs about, acting like they’d be corrupted just by being in the same room together. Those are the sorts of people who join You-Know-Who, Sirius. That’s who Regulus was.”

Sirius balled his fists. “No–”

“Would you be sad if Snivellus died? Or Avery? Or Mulciber?”

“James!”

“Would he be upset if you died? If a Death Eater got you instead of the other way around?”

Sirius stared at him, feeling as if something inside him was being torn apart. 

“How could you say that?”

“You know it’s true.”

“You didn’t know him!”

“I knew him enough.”

No. He didn’t. Sirius wondered if anyone had truly known Regulus. His reserved brother, who never let on what he was thinking. Their parents hadn’t known he was joining the Death Eaters until it was too late. Sirius hadn’t known until... He tried to remember the last time they’d talked, really talked – about the war, about their family, about life, but he couldn’t recall a single conversation. They had lived in orbit of each other, always going someplace else. Regulus never had any free time; there was always a book to read, a broom to fly, a sketch to draw, a poem to write, an elf to fuss over. While he kept busy, Sirius would lay about, reading magazines, dreaming up new adventures, writing letters. Just another reason why he never belonged in Slytherin; another reason why Regulus was the better son.

But he knew Regulus would have missed him. He knew, because he felt like this. He’d always been the crueller sibling, more selfish too, if he could forgive his brother’s wrongdoings, so would Regulus.

“You don’t have any siblings,” Sirius said, “you don’t know what it’s like. Yes, I hated him but I love him too. He was better than me–”

“He was a Death Eater and a Slytherin!”

“And my brother!”

“I thought I was your brother.”

Sirius stared at him. “… You are – I can have two.”

“Why would you want too?”

It was a utterly heartless thing to say, something Sirius expected from himself but not Prongs.

He gritted his teeth. His fists still curled. He got to his feet.

He shouldn’t be surprised, James always held strong convictions. Sirius had lived by them, modelling his newly minted morals on his best mate’s. Now those morals warred with his heart. Because he couldn’t abandon Regulus, not entirely, not even for James.

“The Sorting Hat put him in Slytherin for a reason,” James went on, standing to meet him. “I know it’s hard to admit it, but you don’t have to defend him just because he’s dead. He made his choice.”

“I’m not defending him.”

“Then why are you so upset?” 

Sirius took a deep, difficult breath. It wasn’t enough. “If you don’t get it, then get out. I told you not to come.”

“Pad–”

“No! Merlin! Why can’t you see you’re not helping? My brother is dead. I don’t care that he was evil. I don’t care.”

Janes’ expression darkened. “And what about the person he tried to hurt?”

Sirius had an answer – a horrible, malformed answer that rose out from the depths of his soul. I don’t care about them. But he couldn’t say it.

He pressed his palm to his forehead. “All I wanted to know is if you’d come with me to see Slughorn, but now I have my answer.”

“Sirius.”

He grabbed the door and ripped it open. “Leave! James! You’ve done enough.”

Prongs clenched his jaw. He looked angry but that just infuriated Sirius more.

“Go home. Go back to your perfect family and their perfect lives.”

“They’re your–”

“NO, THEY’RE NOT!” Sirius shrieked at him. He wasn’t he even sure if James could understand him.

The tone was enough.

James’ eyes widened. His lips shook. “Alright. Padfoot. I got it.”

He left through the door, rushing down the hall. He turned back as he reached the top step, but Sirius already had his wand out. With a flick of his wrist he slammed the door shut.

And screamed.

Chapter Text

Slughorn knew nothing.

Sirius apparated home, not caring that he’d drank more than a medicinal amount of sherry. He didn’t even like sherry. He stumbled onto his top step as pain speared through his hand. He dropped his wand, swore, and assessed the damage. He was missing half a nail and the tip of his finger was bleeding. Pain throbbed up his arm. He picked up his wand with his left hand and forced his way through the wards. He didn’t bother reapplying them.

Slughorn’s commiserations lingered in his ears as he shuffled into the bathroom. He ran his hand under the water and opened the cabinet with the other. Half a healing potion stood lonely on the shelf. He swallowed it one go and threw the bottle against the wall.

He didn’t want sympathies, least of all from a Slytherin who let the war fester in his dungeon, growing fat on desperation.

The blood slowly stopped running. His nail regrew until it was almost too long. Sirius slowly collapsed to his knees. Shattered glass waited for him on the floor, reflecting a mess of curly black hair and grey eyes. For a moment, he could see Regulus in the scattered light. Well, the version of Regulus he knew best. A face that picked out features from their family, never quite the same; Walburga never let him wear the same one twice. But that hadn’t stopped him from looking like a Black; his face, an ever-shifting collage of them all.

Sirius scowled and kicked the cabinet.

On the pitch, Regulus used his talent to outfly every seeker in the game. He made himself light and fast, before extending his body, his arm, his fingers to make the catch. The other houses resented him. He was a cheat and a freak. Sirius felt all the defences he’d ever thought of saying burn in his throat. It didn’t matter in Slytherin, he knew. Regulus won them matches; no one was going to take exception with how. The pros probably wouldn’t have cared either. Why couldn’t he do that forever? Why did he have to go off and– what? Die? Was that the grand plan?

Sirius almost wished Regulus was like Avery or Mulciber or Snape. They all crowded together, whispering threats and shouting slurs. Everyone knew where they stood – and maybe they’d know where to look if one of them disappeared. If Regulus had been their friend, at least, then Sirius would know who to interrogate.

What if no one knew where he’d gone? No one but Voldemort himself. The chances that Sirius would catch the dark wizard when all of the wizarding world couldn’t was farfetched – but Sirius had defied the odds before.

In the stillness of the room and vibrancy of his anger, he heard a knock on the door. He stood, flushed with rage. How dare James come back? He didn’t want to talk to him. He wasn’t ready to apologise; he didn’t know how. Sirius ripped the front door open, and blinked, turned his gaze downwards a little more.

Remus had a big brown scarf wrapped around his shoulders and two layers of cardigans but somehow still looked cold. He had that twist in his lips that he always got when he was on a mission he wasn’t sure he wanted to be saddled with. He’d worn the same expression the entire train ride to Hogwarts in their fifth year after McGonagall had made him prefect.

“Morning,” Sirius muttered.

“Morning... Prongs told me you had a fight.”

Sirius grimaced. “If you’re hear to tell me to apologise I'm not letting you in.”

“I’m here to get the facts.”

Against his good judgement, Sirius opened the door a little wider. He found some cocoa in the flat’s tiny kitchen and settled Remus down by the fire with a piping hot cup.

It was a week from the full moon but Remus already looked poorly. He must have gone to the Potters early. He did that, especially in his worst weeks. An attempt to make up for the favour of allowing him to transform on their property. As if they’d ever call for such a thing. Was this his self-opposed duty for the month? Resolving an impossible fight? Sirius had never argued with James, not seriously, not in a way that lingered. He resented the thought of going back to the Potters when the moon finally came but he pushed it aside, for now. He had a self-styled Dark Lord to hunt down first.

He sat on the floor and looked up at Remus. Curious, kind eyes gazed back at him. Remus didn’t demand answers but Sirius gave them up anyway. “My brother died and Prongs told me not to care.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

Sirius shook his head ruefully. “It’s exactly like him.”

Remus frowned. He knew there was more too it. Sirius owed him the truth. His wolf was always twitchier when Remus was bothered by something. He’d be especially twitchy without Padfoot. Sirius sighed. He looked Remus in the eye. “He was a Death Eater.”

“What?” Remus looked as surprised as Sirius had. “Your brother? Regulus?”

Sirius nodded.

“But he’s so...”

“Was, Moony. He was.”  

“Why would... you-know-who want him? He isn’t out of Hogwarts yet–”

“Maybe he was spying on Dumbledore. Maybe he was recruiting–”

“Recruiting?”

“Alright, probably not recruiting.” Sirius took a sip of the hot chocolate. Talking with Remus always helped. “It happened over the break. Slughorn said he never came back on the train. My mother wrote him that there was some family emergency.”

“They haven’t announced it?”

Sirius shook his head. “She still thinks he might be alive. That the tapestry is confused–”

“Tapestry?”

“Oh, right... My parents own this old tapestry, the family tree, all the way back to the 13^th century when it was first woven plus a few claims to fame: Merlin, Morgan le Fay, the usual suspects. It’s enchanted. It records everything, including,” he took a deep breath, “death.”

“Oh.”

“She thinks my brother is either brilliant or lucky enough to have fooled the thing... and I want her to be right.”

Remus sipped his hot chocolate without a word. Sirius knew what he was thinking; if Regulus was anything like the other fanatics, it was better he was gone. Certainly for Moony. But unlike James, he wouldn’t say that. Sirius felt the retort burning in his throat. Do you know how many werewolves have joined up with him? Neither of them had the exact number, of course, but the articles in the Daily Prophet were numerous. Every full moon, there was another attack somewhere. Thirty odd werewolves tearing through a wizarding village or attacking muggles. The words burned in his throat, vicious and unnecessary, but he was desperate to voice them. How could he leave his little brother's memory undefended? Dead and dishonoured? He couldn’t stand the thought.

Remus set his cup aside and slid off the chair. He sat on the floor across from Sirius. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t.”

“It’s okay to be sad, Pads.”

“I’m not sad!” He rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t come up with a word – or several – that explained how he felt.  An ever shifting tumult raged inside him. Sadness didn’t begin to describe it. Not the betrayal. Not the envy. Not the hope.

“We could go for a walk, get some fresh air. It might–”

“I’m not going for a walk.” He knew Remus was trying to help but the idea that walking about aimlessly would be some kind of comfort was outrageous. He laughed. “If I’m leaving here, it is to find the wizard that killed him.”

“And if it wasn’t anyone’s fault?”

The question threw even more emotions into his already unstable heart. Sirius curled into himself, his mind running down every dark track that question offered him. He couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t bear it.

Padfoot whined. The tumult settled, simplified. A dog didn’t feel the same as a person.

“Oh, Sirius...” Remus reached out, like he’d done countless times, to scratch behind his ears, to run fingers through his fur.

Padfoot snapped at him. Jaws missed fingers but it got the message across. Remus retracted his hand.

“James will come ‘round, you’ll see.”

Padfoot sniffed his noise of opposition. He didn’t want James to come around.

Remus stood. “Well I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

Padfoot nipped at Remus’ trousers. He was wanted, just... not right now. Sirius didn’t want to burden him, not so close to the moon. He sensed his friend’s fragility differently as a dog, by smell rather than sight, but he sensed it none the less.

Remus crossed his arms. “I’m not going to talk to you like this, Sirius.”

Remus went to leave. Padfoot followed him to the door and scuffed at Remus’ trousers. When Remus looked down, Padfoot pointed his nose to the moon and yipped softly. Take care of yourself.

Remus sighed. “I’ll be fine. Just... I’ll be fine. Good night, Sirius. Make sure you get some sleep.”

He left down the street, towards the Leaky Cauldron. Padfoot stood on the landing, watching him, not much concerned with getting caught. When Remus turned down the alley, Padfoot went back inside. Emptiness hung, tangible, between the walls. Padfoot curled up beside the fireplace, at the foot of an empty chair, and longed for Remus, for James, for Regulus, yet hated the thought of them.

He stood, hours later, as Sirius and cleared away the cups. The mess was nagging at him. Like his mother was leering over him, growing larger with every minute. He cast a cleaning spell on the mugs, slowly circling his wand in the inner reaches where the chocolate liked to stain the ceramic.

Tap-tap. The sound jarred him. He lost his grip of the mug but caught it before it hit the floor. He glared at the window where an unfamiliar owl tapped its beak on the glass. Tap-tap. More insistent. Tap-tap-tap.

He skipped fury. He skipped annoyance. He skipped anything that could be classed as thought or feeling.

He screamed and threw the mug at the creature. The cup shattered as it hit the glass. The owl hooted harshly at him before flying off.

Sirius stared at the pieces of his favourite mug. He didn’t feel like he was there anymore. You shouldn’t have done that, a little Regulus scolds him, a half-imagined memory. A phrase repeated countless times. You shouldn’t have done that.

Fix it, before someone notices. Sirius flicked his wand and reassembled the fragments until the mug was sitting in the sink, unbroken once again. It felt so wrong, that a spell could fix this but not his brother. He slammed his palm against the bench. He crouched, unable to look at the cup any longer. He pressed his forehead against the cold cabinet.

“Why?” he breathed. “Why? Why? WHY!?”

Sirius wailed at nothing, as if his brother’s ghost had come to haunt him. He wish it did. Then he could something to be angry at.

But then, Regulus really would be dead.

***

The full moon came around as it did every month. Sirius debated all day whether or not he should go. He tried to distract himself with the pile of newspapers he had scattered about his living room but nothing could fix the guilt. He apparated down the lane to a spot between two old oak trees just as the sun was setting.

His stomach twisted as he caught a whiff of Effie’s cooking. He hadn’t eaten breakfast… or lunch. Dinner last night had been a chocolate frog fished out from his old trunk. The darn thing almost go away. Sirius walked around the side of the old house, through the snow-dappled garden, and found a window. He opened it with a swish of his wand and climbed inside. Warm air flushed against his face as he stepped into the second sitting room.

Old wood beams hung over his head. The original white walls were decorated with portraits and souvenirs of countless Potters. Old wizarding homes breathed magic. Even a vault’s worth of galleons couldn’t buy a house like this. Sirius knew – he’d tried.

Voices echoed through the house, laughter and loud joy. He inched passed the door, sure to avoid the main living room. He found Effie in the kitchen, working alongside the family’s elf, and nabbed a bread roll from the cooling tray.

“Sirius,” Effie said when she spotted him. She shook her head. “What have I told you about waiting for dinner?”

“That I’m always welcome, if I’m ever feeling hungry.”

She smiled softly. “Oh, of course you are.” She pulled him into a hug. He held her for longer than he should have. “Jamie told me you weren’t doing well. I’m glad you came.”

Before Sirius could say more, he heard James’s footsteps coming down the hall. Sirius reached for Padfoot. He dashed out of the kitchen, robes flying, just as James stepped through. “Siri–!”

“No animal forms in the house!” Effie called.

Padfoot barked and ran out of the house. The Potter estate backed onto a large parcel of woodlands. Plenty of magical flora and fauna called it their home. Some of which made their way into the garden. He stopped out by a rosebush and pounced. He dug his teeth into a gnome’s side just enough to snatch it up in his jaws and carried to the fence. He climbed up the old wall and spat out the gnome. It wiggled and complained. Padfoot barked loudly and it ran off. He sniffed with satisfaction and jumped down.

In the fading light, he spotted Remus further down the garden. His friend wore a thick leather apron and massive gloves. Padfoot bounded over, though Remus was too focused on the old statue he was cleaning to notice. Padfoot picked up the scent of sweat and wolf. Only hours before the transformation, Remus was at his weakest. Padfoot slowed to a halt and nudged his palm.

Remus glanced his way. His face was red and blotchy, like he’d been crying. The change often made him moody, and often those moods featured tears. Padfoot barked in greeting. Remus smiled and crouched down. He ran his hands through Padfoot’s fur. “You made it.”

Padfoot rubbed against him. Of course I did.

Petting Padfoot with on hand, Remus turned his attention back to the statue. Doxies had made a nest inside its crevices. They were nasty buggers to get rid off, since most jinxes didn’t repel them. Elbow grease and thick leathers were just about the only thing that worked. Padfoot nudged at Remus, trying to get him to stop. He knew the Potters hadn’t asked him to do this.  

Remus scratched behind his ears in that spot that made Padfoot’s entire body relax. “How are you holding up?”

It was like getting hit by a bucket of ice water. Padfoot growled. He wasn’t going to talk about this. He was a dog for a reason.

When he looked up, Remus had lost his smile. He gazed at Padfoot with sad eyes.

Padfoot got to his feet and walked away.

“Sirius!”

Remus called for him but that just made him go faster. He ran down the flagstone path and leaped over the back door. The others could walk Remus out.

He roamed the woods as the sun set, keeping an eye out for the rising moon. He returned to the gate, with a squirrel in his mouth, and followed Remus’ scent down the usual path. He broke into a clearing to find Prongs and Wormtail waiting. Wormtail sat inside the small satchel Remus had made for him, hanging off Prongs’ sturdy neck. The stag’s body had grown since they first transformed as boys. His antlers especially . Wormtail was even tinier by comparison.

Remus sat, wrapped up in a blanket and little else. The blanket had been torn and repaired countless times by now. His eyes were closed. His shoulders shook as he tried to breathe through the pain. Padfoot came up to him and licked his face. Remus smiled and ran his hand over Padfoot’s neck without opening his eyes. “Hey...”

Padfoot dropped the squirrel and yipped happily. A jaunt through the woods had been exactly what he needed. He let Remus pet him some more before moving off. He smelled around the clearing, double checking no muggles had come wandering through here. He picked up nothing  on the wind.

The transformation hit Remus not long after. He said he was easier than it had been, though Padfoot didn’t have much to go off. Remus didn’t talk much about how he’d been infected. He was as vague as possible when they asked about his childhood before Hogwarts. It was only in the months since they left Hogwarts – and the shelter the shack provided – that they’d seen the change. They always snuck into see Moony after the moon had risen, not wanting to get caught in their animagus forms. Remus had offered no complaints – he knew they had to be with him all night now – but Sirius knew he didn’t like it.

Remus shrieked as his body tore itself apart. He cried as it stitched itself back together. Moony didn’t move at first. His breathing became level as he lay on the grass. The eviscerated blanket was strewn across the snow. Padfoot walked over to him, crouched by his side. He sniffed at the squirrel before nudging it towards Moony.

The wolf was always hungry after transforming and Padfoot had long since discovered that Moony was a lot more pleasant after a snack. Moony lifted his hulking body off the ground and clawed at the carcass.  He ate with passion, blood going everywhere, until the squirrel had completely disappeared down his throat.

After that, they roamed the woods together. Padfoot played with him, in a creek they found, or hunting down whatever woodland creatures could be found in the dead of winter. Prongs kept a sense of their location and urged Moony away from farms and houses. Wormtail, well, Wormtail hung about. He occasionally jumped out of his satchel to go exploring on his own but it wasn’t easy for him to keep up with Moony. And sometimes Prongs forgot to check if the rat was under foot.

Finally, as dawn crested over the horizon, Padfoot led them back to the clearing. Moony was tiring by then, they all were, and he gladly kept to the small space. The wolf howled as the transformation hit him. Before long, Remus was human again. The three of them shifted back, their transitions cruelly fluid.

James found his wand and cast repairing charms until the blanket was in one piece again. He draped it over the sleeping Remus. He pulled Remus onto his back with Pete’s help.

They started the walk back, yawning and slow. Sirius let James get ahead, further and further away, until he couldn’t see him through the woods. Peter matched his pace. There was a good foot between them, which usually left Sirius at the front of the pack and Pete at the back, but today they walked in tandem.

“You look miserable.”

“It was a long night.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Last night too?”

“Yeah. And the night before that.”

“You went on a bender and didn’t invite me?”

“I thought you were trying to get a good ministry job.”

“My mum wants me to get a good ministry job. Not the same thing.”

“If that’s not on the cards, we pick up the old contacts in Hogsmeade. Are you still on good terms with Aberforth?”

Peter snorted. “Are you kidding? I can’t walk down his street without feeling his crotchety old glare. Ever since we adulterated those fizzy drinks Moony got, he’s been chomping at the bit to throw us all in Azkaban.”

“I wish him luck. He’ll never get me in those dreary halls. I’ve lived enough of my life in inhospitable prison.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s exactly what I imagine when I think of many manors of the house of Black: inhospitable.”

“You have no idea what it’s like to be the same house as my mother. She can make any room into a wasteland” He meant it to be jovial but his words soured on his tongue. “They’re both horrid. They weren’t going to tell me, you know. It’s only because they thought I might know something that they even bothered...”

He gritted his teeth at the bitter taste in his mouth.

“I’d forgotten how much I hated them.”

“Is this about your...”

“Yeah.”

“He’s probably in a better place now. At least that’s what everyone said about my dad, when he... died.”

Sirius didn’t think a Death Eater would qualify for a better place, regardless how you sliced it. But if one did, he thought it ought to be Regulus. Fuck. He probably signed up to push house elf rights or something just as charitable and ridiculous. He’d never met a muggle a day in his life, but if he did Sirius had always thought... It didn’t matter now. He never would.

“I don’t know how you did it, Pete. I...” They reached the house but Sirius wasn’t ready to go back in. “The last time I felt like this, we nearly killed Snape.”

“‘We’ is an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

“You were there.”

“Only after you told Snivellus about the twist in the tree.” Peter shook his head. “Look, how about you come to my place? My mum will probably annoy you to death, since she thinks you’re a bad influence, but it’s better than your empty apartment if you’re trying not to kill anyone.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Sirius furrowed his brow, staring at the rising dawn. “I have to find out what happened to him.”

“You and everyone else that’s had their family go missing. Look, my mum knows people in the Auror office. Maybe she’ll hear something. And if she doesn’t, they’ve opened this pub on the main street: the Three Broomsticks. Since we haven’t made an enemy of Madame Ros yet...”

Sirius smirked. “You think she’ll be open to fizzy drinks?”

“Even if she isn’t. I’d be open to regular drinks.”

“To yours it is.”

He pushed through the back door and into the house.

Chapter Text

They apparated down a side street, a block from the Pettigrews’ house. A kneazle skittered away with a hiss as Sirius landed on the cobblestones. Pete pulled his cloak a little closer. “Come on, then. If we’re lucky mum’s made breakfast.”

They pushed open a gate and stepped onto the street. No Hogwarts students wandered the village, leaving the streets were almost empty. Sirius still looked at every face, hoping one might belong to his brother. They reached a small cottage down a little lane: the Pettigrews’. Smoke spilled out of the chimney. Celestina Warbeck’s shrill vocals pierced their ears as they stepped through the front door.

“I’m home!” Peter called.

“About time!” Mrs Pettigrew shouted through the house. “You have to stop staying out all night, Peter! You’re a grown wizard now. Take responsibility for your life.”

Pete’s mother came down the stairs with a basket on her hip. “You brought a friend.” She eyed Sirius. “If you’re drunk you won’t find refuge here.”

“I’m horribly sober at the moment.”

“Eh, well, don’t get any ideas. I know what’s in my cabinets.”

She shoved the basket into Peter’s arms. “I expect these to be washed by the time I get back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see some old friends.”

She flicked her wand. A thick cloak lifted off its hook and wrapped over her shoulders. She pulled on a matching hat. “Love you, darling.” She kissed Pete’s cheek as he made a face. Then she left.

Sirius raised an eyebrow as Peter made his way into the kitchen. “No breakfast then?”

“Forgot she had some meet up today.” He pulled the record off the player. Warbeck’s warbling ceased. “Sort of glad though. She never used to leave the house after dad died. Anyway, I’m hitting the sack. You coming?”

They slept the morning away in Peter’s room. Pete on the bed, Sirius curled up in some sheets on the floor. By lunch time their stomachs were protesting enough that sleep was impossible. They made their way back into the kitchen and cobbled together their best attempt at sandwiches.

This was about the time Sirius usually went over to the Potters. It was Sunday. Effie would have the roast in oven. The entire house would start smelling of roast turkey or ham. Sirius would help with the gravy. James would snag a Yorkshire pudding just as they come out of the oven, burning his tongue.

Effie had caught him just before he left with Pete, reminding him they’d always set out a plate for him. Sirius had made an excuse. He had plans for tonight. He couldn’t make it. A lie. He wouldn’t make it.

Over Peter’s small dining table, Sirius considered the morning’s Daily Prophet instead. He scanned the entire thing for any mention of his brother though he knew, if something had reached the presses, it would be front page news.

“So...” Pete said, “I’m thinking we get drinks at the Three Broomsticks and you tell me what in Merlin’s name happened between you and Prongs.”

“We had a fight.”

“Got that much already, thanks.”

Sirius shrugged. “Not much else to say.”

“That’s because you’re sober.”

“Your mother won’t let me back into the house if you get me drunk.”

“Padfoot, you wound me. Obviously, I’m sneaking you through the window.”

Sirius grinned. “Alright, cunning mastermind. I’ll leave the planning to you.”

“Good. Now, obviously we’re not inviting Prongs or Moony, but–”

“Do you know anyone who isn’t Prongs and Moony?”

Peter puffed out his chest. The effect was rather minimised by the crumbs on his chin. At Grimmauld, he’d have been hit with a stinging hex for each wayward grain.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been talking to a girl.”

Sirius raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Has she been talking back?”

Peter twisted his lips with dissatisfaction. “Yes, she’s been talking back. We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Sirius folded the paper and set it aside, taking a moment to compose himself. Otherwise he risked laughing in Peter’s face. “And who is this delightful mademoiselle?”

“Ah...”

“I’m going to meet her tonight, Wormtail. Might as well swallow the potion now.”

Peter sat a little lower in his chair, defeated. “Her name is Sybille.”

Sirius cast his mind back to the girls he knew from Hogwarts. In all honesty, he never spent much time learning their names. “I don’t think I know her.”

Peter's face made a weird expression. “Well, you can meet her tonight.”

“If she agrees.”

“Right.” Peter took a deep breath. “Do you know anyone we could invite out? I don’t want her to get di– overwhelmed.”

“Lily?”

“Won’t she want to bring Prongs?”

“Good point.”

Sirius was faced with a dearth of people he would call friend. He knew people. Merlin, did he know people. But people he actually wanted to talk to? That list was significantly shorter.

“McKinnon?”

Peter thought about it for a bit. They had hung out with Marlene McKinnon during their seventh year. Mainly because she was on the Quidditch team with James. But still, she could be fun.

“Alright,” Peter said. “You owl McKinnon. I’ll talk to Sybille.”

A few hours after sundown they made their way to the Three Broomsticks. The pub had gone up during their school years, bringing in crowds of bright-eyed students. Sirius and his mates had mostly stuck to the Hog’s Head, preferring to brave its ancient bowels – and all the cooler for it. In sixth year, Aberforth caught onto their schemes though, so they’d shifted their habits over to the shiny new inn.

Without the tide of Hogwarts students about, the bar room was remarkably pleasant. Locals milled about, sitting around the grand fireplace or the tables. Rosmerta, a witch a few years Sirius’s senior, collected orders. Tankards of butterbeer floated above heads, finding their way to tables.

Sirius looked around the room for this ‘Sybille’ he’d heard nothing about.

He had always been about a good distraction and finding out the identity of Peter’s new paramour was enough to drag him for dreariness. At least for an evening.

He saw no likely suspects. And Marlene, like many of James’ friends, was habitually late. “Tough lu–”

Peter ducked around some rowdy wizards to the very back of the pub. There, in surprisingly well lit corner, was a witch who looked more cardigan than girl. The board brim of her hat was further exaggerated by lace flounces. Beneath that, her face was taken up by large round glasses that made her eyes look twice as big as they ought.

It was no wonder Sirius had never learned her name, he could barely make out her face!

“Is this seat taken?” Peter asked.

The witch looked up from her book – a thin tome with white pages. It looked distinctly muggle. Sirius raised as eyebrow as she put it in her pocket, his impression of her improving slightly. At least there was something interesting about her.

“Er, no... except by you. I suppose.”

Peter grinned and sat across from her. Sirius pulled over a chair and draped himself over it.

“I told you about my friend, Sirius Black. Sirius, this is Sybille Trelawney.”

Sybille gave him a thin smile and he waved his hand somewhat in her direction.

Rosmerta came over to get their order. Once upon a time, Sirius might have dumped a pile of sickles on the table and told her to keep the drinks coming. He and the boys would brew polyjuice potions and sneak out of the castle for drinks. The night before a Quidditch match, they smuggled plenty of booze back into castle, careless of the cost. Now, at twenty, Sirius had to count his knuts and could order anything from the menu without a hint of subterfuge. It was a truly depressing state of affairs and immediately dispirited him.

Sybille didn’t seem to notice his dower mood and Peter ignored it in favour of talking to her. They gabbed on and on about Divination – Sirius had passed the class with straight Os despite rarely attending. All he had to do was come with sufficiently compelling hogwash about portents and prophecies for his NEWTs exam and they’d handed him a grade with distinction. Why anyone would struggle with – or care about – Divination was beyond him.

“You’d be such a great teacher,” Peter told her, hand inching across the table. Sirius rolled his eyes and glanced at the door. Where was McKinnon when you needed her? He’d done enough third wheeling after Lily decided James was ‘alright’. Merlin.   

Sirius got up and ambled to the bar, bringing his goblet with him. After a week of nothing – really it was closer to three weeks of nothing – Sirius didn’t know what he supposed to do. His father had already investigated through the Ministry. What would Pete’s mum know that Orion Black wouldn’t?

What were you doing, Reggie?

Sirius drained the goblet and fished out another few sickles from his robes.

“You look grim.”

Marlene slid into the stool beside him and faced him.

Sirius shot her a toothy grin. You have no idea. “Marlene McKinnon.”

“In the flesh.”

Rosmerta back and grabbed their order. Sirius finished half of his before he side-eyed McKinnon. “How goes team hunting?”

“Dismal. A few Falcons got into a brawl. I heard about it through Mary who knows a Healer at Mungo’s. I went straight to the manager. Night of. You’d think all three would be on probation but it’s just the one, and the bastard told me they were just going to throw in their reserve until the Ministry decided if they were going to snap the bloke’s wrist or shake his hand.”

Marlene sighed and took a long swig from her tankard.

“No one wants me. I’m a dam good flyer. I know I am but I can’t get myself on the pitch to prove it. It’s so frustrating. They think because I’m a witch, I shouldn’t be playing with them. What kind deranged muggle mentality is that?”

“You’re blaming muggles?” Sirius raised his eyebrows.

“They’re the ones with men’s and women’s teams.”

“Whatever for?”

Marlene shrugged and took another drink. Sirius was always surprised by how little he knew about muggles, especially how they thought. He’d strolled through muggle London a hundred times back when he still lived with his parents, fascinated. He expected the allure to wear off at some point but it never did. Muggles were unfailingly bizarre.

“What have you been up to these days?” Marlene asked.

Sirius stared into his drink, suddenly reminded of what he was trying to distract himself from. “I’m trying to find my brother.”

“Hm? Where's he gone?”

“That’s the problem. No one knows.”

Marlene’s expression softened. “Oh. Sirius.”

“No.” He couldn’t stand that look. Never could. Pity – sympathy. He didn’t want the first and didn’t deserve the second. “Marlene. I...”

Sirius had noticed a wizard enter out of the corner of his eye, but he’d dismissed him just as fast. Not everyone had. Three men stood from their table and ambled over before the poor bloke could reach the bar.

“Now, my good man. What do you think you’re doing?” one of the men asked. “Coming in here dressed like a mudblood?”

Marlene looked over with a frown. The newcomer was indeed without his robes. A muggle style shirt was tucked into his slacks. He’d pulled off a thick windbreaker and hung it on a hook by the cloaks. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have stuck out, but times had changed.

“Just here for a drink,” the newcomer said. “I don’t mean any trouble.”

“You’ll bring it anyway. You know what’s prowling out there and the types they hunt. You don’t want the good folk about here hurt unfairly, do you?”

“That’s–”

“The truth of things. Don’t deny it. For the good of everyone else, you ought to stay away.”

“Hey now,” Sirius slipped off his seat. “What took you so long?”

He strode through the three wizards. His confidence had them stepping aside without a thought. He set a friendly arm on the newcomer’s shoulder. “We’ve already started. Let me get you a drink to apologise.”

The newcomer hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Ah– yeah.”

Sirius pushed through the wizards but they weren’t so obliging this time.

“Alright, mate?” the leader said, stepping into Sirius’s way. “No need to start trouble.”

“Trouble? I assure it’s not I who would be troubled if you ruin my night.”

One of the other wizards scoffed. “Think you’re something special, lad?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said without shame.

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” Peter asked from over their shoulders. Sybille was nowhere in sight. “Because I really don’t think you want to pick a fight with Sirius Black.”

The wizards frowned at the name. Everyone in the wizarding world knew the name ‘Black’. The muggleborn next to Sirius stiffened.

“Sirius Black?” The third wizard said. “I’ve heard of you. They kicked you out. Disgraced their good name, you did. If anything we’d be doing society a service hexing you.”

“I’m sure you would. But then again you’d have to actually land a hex.” Sirius stepped up the man. Towering over him. He wanted this fight. He wanted an excuse to hurt someone. To do something. To wreck everything. Maybe someone would kill him too. If he died now, he’d end the House of Black for good. Wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t that be something? Wouldn’t that just ruin his parents’ day?

The wizard reached under his sleeve and Sirius knew he was going for his wand. Sirius palmed his own from where it hung from his hip and withdrew it like a sword. He didn’t bother with an incantation. He’d been disarming people for laughs since second year. The wizard’s wand flew out of his hand just as he got it out. Sirius smiled. “Fetch.”

The wand rolled under a table. The wizard backed up, suddenly unsure. His friends weren’t so cautious. Now someone had cast the first spell, they raised their wands and attacked. 

“Stupefy!”

“Petrificus To–”

Sirius batted the wizard casting stupefy just as he finished it. The spell missed its mark, flying passed Sirius and striking the other wizard friend instead. Sirius jammed his heel into the moving wizard’s foot. He gasped, temporarily stunned like his mate.

Sirius flicked his wand towards their table. “Oppugno.”

Their flagons lifted in the air. Then upturned and dumped their contents on three men. Firewhiskey splashed into their faces, their eyes. They surely knew they were outclassed now. They surely got the message. But Sirius wasn’t done. That fight hadn’t lasted nearly long enough. “Come on, you were going to hex–”

Peter stepped in front on him. He squeaked – like he'd forgotten he wasn’t in his rat form – “Don’t!”

Sirius ignored him. Let’s see how much they like fire in their firewhiskey. Sirius pushed Peter aside.

Just then, the pub doors opened and two Patrollers walked in. Ugh. Not now. For a stupid second Sirius thought about fighting them instead. They’d put up a proper challenge – right?

“Let’s go!” Peter shouted and scurried off. It jolted Sirius off his train of thought – right, getting out of here. Sirius waved his wand and summoned a cloud of smoke. He held his shirt over his face and ran after Peter. There was one thing you could always count on Wormtail for: knowing where to make a hasty exit. They scampered out of the back-door, Marlene on their tail, and found Sybille outside in the alley. She looked curiously at Peter. “Is there a fire?”

“Not quite,” Peter grunted. “Come on.”

They ran down the side-streets, doubling back a few times to throw off any pursuers and eventually came upon the winding path up to the Shack. Sybille had been running with her hat off, which she now primly donned on her head. “Ghost watching, then?”

Sirius scowled at her. “Ghost watching?”

She pointed up the path. “The Shrieking Shack. I heard it haunted.”

“It’s not.”

Sybille frowned.

Sirius smirked. “Where do you think we kept all our merchandise?”

“What merchandise?”

“Pete... don’t tell me than this lovely witch here thinks you’re an upstanding, law-abiding citizen.”

“I am.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“When you’re not around starting fights.”

“It was for a good cause.”

“If you say so.”

“You wouldn’t?” Sirius challenged. Peter was growing a thicker skin these days, and a stronger spine. It made him all the more amusing to prod. Especially if it doctored Peter into something more than James’ sycophant. These days, Sirius thought he might actually like the guy.

“Rosmerta would have handled it. She throws out people who cause a ruckus.”

“Sure, but that’s not the point.”

“There was a point?”

“Of course. You of all people should know that.”

Peter shoved his fists into his pockets and turned away. “Not every muggleborn is my dad.”

Sirius shrugged. “He could be someone’s dad.”

“Well,” Marlene said, “as lovely as this has all been I’m reminded why I never talk to you lot.”

“What’s this, McKinnon?”

She ignored him and faced Sybille. “And you shouldn’t either. I know Pettigrew seems alright but he’s as bad as the rest.”

Sybille blinked at her. “Ah... well. I read his palms, so...”

“His palms?”

“I’m going to live a long life, apparently.”

“In Azkaban, maybe,” Marlene said.

“Nah,” Sirius slung his arm over Peter’s shoulder. “Pete wouldn’t last a day in Azkaban.”

“Hmph. Pot calling the kettle black.”

“I’d never call anyone a Black. I have restraint.”

“You?” Marlene scoffed. “Whatever. I’m going. You should join me– Ah. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m Marlene.”

“Sybille...” The other witch said with a frown. “I don’t mind them, really. I’ll stay.”

“Suit yourself. See you around, Peter.”

Peter waved. Sirius scoffed at the obvious provocation. This is what he got from snogging her that one time. In his defence, they’d both been very drunk. 

Without much direction to their evening, the three of them roamed through whatever shops still opened at this hour. Sybille got distracted by crystal balls and seemed to entirely forget they existed. Sirius shook his head. “Poor Peter Pettigrew. Outdone by a rock. It’s a wonder if you’ll ever kiss a girl.”

“I’ve kissed plenty of girls.”

“Sure you have.”

Peter tapped an astrolabe with a nervous strength that told Sirius it was less out of boredom and more because he was stalling. “Out with it, then.”

“With what?”

“Don’t be obtuse.”

Peter sighed and glanced at Sybille. “I had an idea.”

“Don’t do that. You might strain yourself.”

Peter faced him. “I don’t think we should look for your brother.”

“Genius, Wormtail. Find him without looking for him. Wish I’d thought of that.”

“No, I meant: we should try to look into what the Death Eaters are up to, where they target, where they’ve been recently. If he was on a Death Eater mission, we can start narrowing down our options.”

Sirius stared at Peter, a little surprised he’d thought of that. It was smart. Sirius nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, say he was attacking some muggles and got injured. He–”

“Muggles can't hurt wizards.”

“Ah, they definitely can.”

“How?”

“Not the point, Padfoot.”

“Get on with it then.”

“If he was hurt, by muggle or friendly fire, then he might be in a muggle hospital or cemetery. Muggles have these weird medicine things that beep. They can keep you alive even if you never wake up.”

“And no one would know who he is...”

“Exactly.”

“But would they bury a person they can’t identify?”

“They’re muggles. Who knows what they do?”

“Well it’s a plan.” Sirius nodded. “Good one, mate. Might just keep you around.”

Chapter Text

The stars winked above a carpet of dusky clouds. Wind snapped at his robes as he flew. An engine rumbled. Sirius rode an old motorbike. It was a muggle contraption; though no muggle bike would be flying through the clouds. Sirius had been dreaming about owning one of these since he was thirteen. He’d even tried to buy one, only to find out muggles didn’t accept galleons.

He’d transfigured a Hogwarts carriage into one at sixteen, only to have it confiscated after he’d been caught driving it around school grounds. A month of detentions later and he’d moved onto more important things. Like maps to sneak out of the castle without dobbers like Snivellus stalking them. But he’d never forgotten the feeling.

Sirius twisted the handle and the engine roared. He loved these dreams. His consciousness encouraged him to look to the side. Someone sat, back turned to him, in the side car. Curls of black hair danced in the wind, a tangled mess in the making. As if feeling his gaze upon them, his passenger looked back.

Regulus had a smaller nose than Sirius. His eyes were more blue than grey. And the scars – Sirius’ greatest regrets cut across his brother’s face. The damaged skin stretched as Regulus smiled. White, puckered lines where Sirius’ was porcelain smooth. Walburga was paranoid that Regulus’ face would one day settle. So she consistently marred his hands, his hair, his face. Sirius had resented the attention she lavished on him. The private lessons. The constant surveillance. Regulus had stolen his mother from him – but Sirius soon discovered the best way to win it back: misbehaving.

“It’s okay,” Regulus said.

“What is?”

“I don’t have to pretend any more.” Regulus looked forward. “We can just fly.”

Before Sirius could respond, he woke up. Tears leaked from his eyes. Devastating melancholy hit him as he realised the dream was over. And that, no matter what he did now, it would never come true. Even if Regulus was still alive, he’d never step foot on such a muggle contraption. He’d never smile at Sirius. He’d never stop pretending.

Sirius forced down a sob and dragged himself out of bed.

He stopped by Pete’s place. Even through the front door, Sirius could hear the yelling. “I won’t have a lazy lout stay under my roof! Go get a job or so help me I’ll turn you out on your ear!”

“I’m trying, mum,” Peter shouted back. “If you hadn’t noticed there’s a war going on! No one trusts anyone. They won’t even talk to me. Let alone hire me.”

“There’s plenty of work at the Ministry.”

“I don’t want to work at the Ministry! I’m not you.”

Sirius stepped back from the door, ironically reassured. The arguments weren’t the same – no one hexed anyone at the Pettigrews’ – but at least they argued. They shouted and yelled. The worst part of living at the Potters had always been their calm understanding, their insistence that things could be talked out around the table. Some days it was a balm, other days it just made him more furious. He wanted them to scream back at him – the soft pity in Effie’s eyes or the concerned sigh from Monty consumed him with guilt. It made the jagged parts of him feel unwelcome.

“Fine! I’m going!” Peter shouted back through the front door as he left.

“Stay safe!”

“I will. Merlin.” Peter slammed the closed and jumped when he noticed Sirius. “Merlin! What are you doing here?”

“We agreed to meet.”

“Oh, right.” Peter sighed. “You’d think Mum would run out of things to be angry at me about.”

“Not in my experience.”

Peter groaned and fixed up his robes. “Where to then?”

“Diagon Alley.”

They headed back to the high street and through the Three Broomsticks. Peter dropped a couple knuts into the tip jar for the floo and they stepped through to the Leaky Cauldron. The drab bar was mostly empty this early in the morning, which meant the dim corners were free. They ripped off their robes and switched into muggle clothes. Sirius pulled on his favourite muggle jacket – leather with weird metal bits that looked like teeth – to match the tight-fitting jeans that he’d hidden under his robes. He found the jeans much more comfortable without breeches beneath (thank you, Lily).

The shop bell rang as they stepped onto the busy street. It was like night and day. A grim fog hung over the wide, crowded street as dark carriages and massive red buses trundled past. People pushed down the street, dressed up in all sorts of odd garments. There were no signs of the war here.

Pete had elected to wear a far more conservative collared polo, knit jumper, and plain trousers. He blended in much better. But honestly, what was the point of that?

“So...” Sirius began, before sliding a look at Peter.

“So?”

“How do we find muggle records? Do they have a ministry?”

“Well... I don’t know. They probably have a Daily Prophet, right? We can start there.”  

They wandered down the street, peaking into store windows. One shop had a muggle wireless playing and displays spilling out the front. Dull papers like the Daily Prophet sat alongside brightly coloured magazines. None of the photos moved, though that spooked Sirius much less than it had his first time out on these streets. The people had seemed lifeless but he’d brought home a poster anyway. Then a dozen more when his mother had gone berserk. Regulus had always commented on their creepiness whenever he stepped into Sirius’s bedroom. Not that it happened often. “I swear they move when I’m not quite looking at them.”

“Nope.”

Sirius flipped open one of the papers. BRITISH RAIL WORKERS ON STRIKE. Sirius frowned at the unfamiliar word. What in the world was a strike? Had the Death Eaters attacked one of the train workers?

“This might be it,” Sirius said and walked into the shop. More papers were available inside. And snacks. Sirius selected an unfamiliar type that sounded intriguing – though, on the whole, he’d been disappointed by muggle confectionary. It always tasted nice and never zapped him or left him slightly singed.

Sirius wasn’t familiar with the song playing over the wireless but he thought he recognised the singer from one of Remus’ records. He waved at the muggle at the counter. “What’s this strike business?” he affected his best muggle accent as he spoke.

The woman, perhaps thirty maybe forty hard to tell with her make-up, scowled at him. “Are you on something?”

“Only my shoes.”

“Wha – look, buy something or get out.” She pointed at the door, clearly preferring the latter. Sirius sent a questioning look towards Pete, who shuffled into the store to save the day.

“Sorry, he’s new to London.”

“Right,” she said with a tone that said she couldn’t care less. Sirius went back to peruse the offerings. He was shocked by the number of options. How can there be so much news? Sirius wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking–

“You need to buy that.”

Sirius looked over his shoulder at the muggle.

“We’re not a library.”

Sirius set down the paper he’d been flipping through. “Perhaps you can help me make a selection then.”

The woman frowned at him. Sirius knew his natural accent sounded strange to muggles. He’d been asked if he was from the West Country, from Scotland, from the United States by the rare curious inquirer. None of them believed him when he said London. Still, there was a gravitas it conveyed that made everyone listen.

“I’m looking for news. Of attacks, disasters, or strange happenings. You wouldn’t happen to have anything like that, would you?”

The woman scrutinised him for a moment before clearly deciding she still didn’t care. “Headliners are out the front. World news is over there. Special interest and the occult on the shelf in the corner. Take your pick.”

Sirius stifled a sneer as she gestured to most of the store. This woman might have been useless but he wasn’t his mother. He refused to be–

“We’ll get these.” Peter dropped a stack of papers on the counter. He snagged Sirius’s snack from earlier and set it on top. “This too.”

The woman poked out register. Peter nudged Sirius’s side and Sirius parted with most of his muggle money. He trusted the woman to hand him back the correct change and took the newspapers. They stepped out of the store into the street once more. Sirius sighed. “That was needlessly painful.”

“Funny though.”

“Funny,” Sirius said flatly.

“You met your match with her. Middle-aged muggle woman: immune to the charms of Sirius Black.”

“She wouldn’t be immune to charms,” Sirius muttered, “mine or anyone else’s.”

“Well, whatever. These had some promising stuff. Let’s get back to the Leaky Cauldron and make notes. I reckon we can get some leads and some drinks.”

“What happened you getting a job?”

“It’s fortification.”

A motorcycle blitzed passed and Sirius recalled his dream. “Yeah. I could use some fortifying myself.”

*

Getting to Lily Evans’ house was headache inducing.

Sirius peered down at the flimsy map she’d drawn up for him – it didn’t help much at all, considering the streets looked the same. The buildings around here were crowded, dirty things and Sirius found it unlikely a witch of such brilliance would be born in such a dingy place. And his mother complained about Grimmauld Place going to the dogs.

Sirius sighed and turned up another street. The Knight Bus didn’t run around here and flying was strictly forbidden above cities. Since he’d never travelled here, apparating into town was liable to get him splinched on a fence or a wall – or Merlin, a muggle. That left Sirius with the unpleasant solution of walking. He had gone through the nearest accessible fireplace on the other side of town and done his best to follow the river.

At last he spotted the chimney Lily had described. An immense tower of blackened brick reared up into the dim sky, shadowy and ominous. It coughed up smoke, darkening the clouds. Sirius covered his nose and mouth on instinct. Not that he was likely to inhale smoke from down here.

He turned down one of the nicer streets in the area – the same size but with clean windows and frills upon the sills – and looked for number 34. Here, he found a door with two yellow bulbous things floating in the air, tied to the handle with twine. Sirius would have thought the objects charmed, but with so many muggles about he doubted it. Besides, he was under strict orders to do no magic while visiting.

He strode up to the door and knocked.

A few moments later, the door sung open. Music spilled out from the house and an imperious young woman peered up at him. She looked a lot like Lily, but for her brown hair and gaudy makeup. This will be Lily’s sister... what was her name again?

The woman scowled at him. “And you are?”

“Sirius Black. I’m here for Lily.”

“Your name is serious?”

“That’s it.”

“Hmph. Freak.”

She stepped away from the door and disappeared into the front room. Sirius hung his coat up on a free hook and pulled the door closed – though not without poking the strange floating orbs first.

Just as he was figuring out the lock, Lily came down the stairs. “Sirius! You made it.”

“Of course I did.” He wrapped her in a hug. “Happy birthday, Red.”

Lily went on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. As they pulled away, Sirius held out her gift. “Probably don’t open it in front of the magically uninclined.”

Lily raised an eyebrow at the package. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a warning.”

“Oh, definitely.”

She grinned and snagged his arm. “Come on, James is already here.”

Sirius didn’t let his smile fall. He hadn’t spoken to James since their fight – but he wasn’t going to ruin Lily’s party. Besides, he was fairly sure he was in the wrong. Even if no one had said as much. Moony’s letters were awkward at best and Wormtail, well, Wormtail was taking full advantage of Sirius’ suddenly lack of best friend. Yes, they investigated Regulus’ disappearance but they also spent several evenings going out with Sybill and whoever Sirius could round up. One of these days, Peter would find the courage to ask her out on a proper date.

Lily’s house was buzzing with muggles and magical folk alike. It was fairly easy to tell the difference. Sirius knew all of Lily’s wizarding friends. The music and cigarette smoke and brightly coloured wallpaper churned together into a fuzzy feel-good atmosphere. It was so unlike any home Sirius had ever seen – he loved it immediately.

Lily took them into a bedroom upstairs with two beds crowded into the same space. Posters and plants cluttered the walls. The second bed had been temporarily converted into a makeshift couch with eclectic cushions. Mary MacDonald lounged on the couch while James leaned against the foot board. “Look what the cat dragged in,” Lily said by way of announcing his arrival.

James pulled on a fake smile but didn’t  saying anything. Sirius shifted his gaze away from his best mate and nodded to Mary. “Holding in there, MacDonald?”

“I’d like to think so.”

James’s expression soured for a moment but he held back whatever thought it had inspired. Lily looked between them with a frown before a ringing sounded from the front of the house. “Oh, Merlin that’s the door. I better get it – Tuney might start telling everyone they’ve got the wrong house.”

She clapped a hand on Sirius’s back and dashed out if the door. Just before she left, she spun back and eyed James. “Remember: no magic.”

Then she was rushing down the stairs and the three of them were left to awkwardly stand in her cramped bedroom.

“Right...” Sirius said. “Best introduce myself downstairs. James, want to come?”

James frowned at him before pushing off the foot board and following. In the hall, he whispered, “I thought we weren’t talking.”

“It’s Lily’s birthday. I’m calling a truce for today.”

“I’m not taking my words back.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Then–”

Mary joined them in the hall and James broke off. He sighed and went down the stairs first. Sirius smirked at her. “Coming to be our liaison?”

“Sink and drown, Black.” MacDonald headed down.

Excellent.

Sirius tried the front room first, which turned out to be a sitting room. Beside the window was a television box – a truly marvellous bit of muggle innovation – with some kids biking down a street. A few mousy haired children watched the show with rapt delight. A dozen tea cups sat on the coffee table in the middle of the room, not all of them filled with tea.

“...I’ve not met this one,” an older man was saying to James.

Sirius extended his hand. “Sirius Black, a friend of Lily’s from school.”

“Ah, the infamous Mr Black. I’ve heard much about you. I’m Harold, Lily’s dad.” They shook hands.

“Good to finally meet you, sir.”

After that first introduction, Sirius didn’t meet many others. Outside of Lily, James was the star of the show. Everyone was curious about Lily’s boyfriend. James had met her close family already but the extended sort were eager to get a bite of him. One bloke with a southern accent got in his head he should try to one-up James Potter, of all people. He was several years their senior and seemed to think being an ‘assistant manager’ of a ‘drill’ company was something to boast about.

James just looked at him with a frown. “Sorry. What’s a drill?”

“What’s a drill? Are you daft? What do they teach at that boarding school of yours?”

“The usual stuff,” James said.

“And armed with this education, you do what, exactly?”

James pondered that. “Well, I thought about doing some travel, like my dad when he was young: Greece, Egypt, Rome. But things are a little hairy right now so I’m holding off.”

“So you’re unemployed.”

“Oh, is that what an assistant manager is? Your job?”

The man sniffed. “Yes, and I’m in line for a promotion soon. The head of the factory is looking to retire. He’s training me up to replace him.”

“Oh! You’re an overseer!” James slapped his forehead. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Assistant overseer,” Sirius added.

The man shot him a grisly look. “For now.”

“My father always says that a good overseer is invaluable to a company,” James said. “He’d have never gotten Sleekeazy's off the ground in the States without Madame Crewe.”

“Sleekeazy’s is...?”

“My father’s invention. It’s a... product. For hair.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“And I’ve never heard of drills. But I’m sure you do a great job overseeing everything. How many factories do you look after?”

“Just the one,” the man begrudged.

“Oh. Well, you’ll get there one day.”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say in the burly man’s book as he pursued his lips tightly. “At least I’ll be getting somewhere.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. This man could manage a dozen factories for the rest of his life and never see the sums James was set to inherit between Monty’s potioneering and Effie’s paintings.

Sirius’ tea had gone cold. Which usually wasn’t a bother, since he could enchant it hot again, but just as he reached for his wand, he remembered Lily’s rule: no magic. He stood and carried his cup into the kitchen to get refill.

Just as he stepped into the hall, the cake came out. Lily’s sister, Petunia, carried it down the corridor, candles flickering, into the sitting room. Sirius stood out of the way, on the stairs, as Petunia and the women with her began singing. “Happy birthday to you...Happy birthday to you...!”

Sirius joined in with the rest. Petunia set the cake on the coffee table and hugged her sister as the song ended. Lily grinned, gripping the sister’s arm across her chest. He’ll never be nineteen. The grief hit Sirius so hard and forceful, he nearly burst into sobs then and there. Sirius couldn’t help but be jealous of Petunia – who was horrible to her sister but still got to hug her. Lily still smiled back. And the house, for all its cramped confines and years of wear, felt cosy.

And just sudden as the grief and jealousy, came the guilt.

Even today, he mourned a Death Eater. A wizard hell-bent on wiping out people just like Lily. A person who could well have died trying to kill her. His days were consumed with research. He pooled information from muggle newspapers and libraries; he asked around in every sizable wizarding community around the UK, spending his coin on other’s drinks to tempt them to talk. What were the Death Eaters doing last Yule? How do you think has sworn to them? Where has You-Know-Who been spotted?

Now, his actions made him feel sick.

Sirius climbed back up the stairs and hid in Lily’s room. He struggled to control his breathing. He stared out at the road below with its endless dingy grey. He wished he’d never had a brother. It was Regulus’s fault he was feeling like this. Everything would have been so much simpler if he could throw his entire heart in with James and the Potters.

Sirius flopped onto Lily’s bed and stared at the ceiling, unable to return to his previous good cheer. He knew from experience it was best he stayed away from everyone and anyone when he was this miserable, this conflicted.

Too bad, the world didn’t care. Marlene came upstairs and offered him a slice of cake. He grunted. She lay the plate down next to him and sat on the couch. She cut the cake with her fork and took a bite.

“Is your brother still missing?”

He’d forgotten he’d told her about that.

“Yeah.”

“That’s tough. My parents have been volunteering at the church in Godric’s Hollow, helping aggrieved muggleborns and victims of the Death Eaters. You wouldn’t believe how common it is... these days. I could introduce you. There’s a lot of people in the same situation.”

“I’m not a victim.”

She nodded. Ate more cake.

He forced himself to sit up and do the same.

“Are you worried? About them?”

She met his gaze and nodded. “All the time.”

Sirius felt ashamed at how willingly he shared in her fears. For a moment, he could pretend he lost his brother to something noble.

Then the door opened and Mary joined them. Bit by bit, the room filled with wizards and witches. Sirius shared the bed with Remus and Peter, while James tucked himself between Mary and Marlene. It was almost like being in the Gryffindor common room again.

At some point, Lily dropped in – and never dropped out. She laughed and joked with them, showed off the dress she’d bought with her money from working at ‘the local’. Marlene and Mary were enamoured.

Despite the festivities, it was inevitable they stumble into the topic of the war. Remus talked about his parent’s new house in Wales. Now that he was an adult and out of the house, they were thinking of selling their country property and moving onto a wizarding street in a nearby town. “The Death Eaters attacked a few months ago and everyone there is still rattled... You know what people are like these days.”    

“They won’t strike there again,” Sirius said. “That’s not where they’re focused.”

Eyes flicked over to Sirius.

“What do mean?” Lily asked.

“I’ve been… looking into it. They’re movements.”

“If you want to track down dark wizards,” James said, “you should become an auror.”

“Me? An auror? Really James it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“Alright,” Lily said, “you two have been acting strange all day. What is it? What’s going on?”

“Go on, Padfoot. Tell her why you’re suddenly interested in Death Eaters and the war.”

“I’m not doing this right n–”

“Regulus was one of them, did he tell you, Lily? Now he’s gone missing and Sirius is looking for him. Aren’t you?”

No one talked. No one moved.

Sirius couldn’t muster the same argument he had all those weeks ago. Not in front of Lily.

“I’ve never made my family’s politics a secret and I don’t condone any of it. But I need to know what happened to him.”

“It won’t have been good,” James said. “Whatever he was doing.”

Sirius nodded. “I know.”

“Then why are we still fighting?”

“Because you don’t get it – and I don’t think you ever will.”

“What’s there to get?” James demanded.

“If he’s dead…” Sirius held onto his composure like a lifeline. A hollow part of him was tempted to become Padfoot; but he was stopped by Lily’s rule: no magic. “I…”

“If he’s dead,” James pressed, “it’s one less person on the streets trying to hurt the people we care about.”

“I know.” Sirius shook his head. “That’s not that point.”

“What other point is there, Pads?”

“If he’s dead,” Sirius took a deep breathe. He knew James wouldn’t accept them, but he had to say them anyway, “then I can’t save him.”

James reached out but Sirius batted his hand away. “There was no saving him.”

“No. I could have– I could have tried.” His careful facade fractured. He felt a sob claw up his throat. “I could have introduced him to you rather than just pretending he didn’t exist.”

“He joined the Death Eaters, Sirius. People don’t just decide to do that on a whim. You were an absolutely wanker when we first met, but you decided to be different. Do you think Regulus would have helped Moony – or would he have handed him off the ministry?”

“What?” Sirius glared at James, tears burning where he refused to let them fall. “Like I tried to?”

James blinked at him. “You… that was different.”

“How is it different!?”

“Well, because… It just is! You’re a good person, Sirius, because you decided to be. Regulus didn’t.”

“You don’t know him!” Sirius threw himself onto his feet. “You will never know him. Because I left him there! With them! I left him to die.”

He gripped James’ polo shirt and twisted it in his fist. “I want to hate him, Prongs. But I can’t. He was my baby brother. What’s the point of being a Gryffindor if I couldn’t protect him!”

“Standing up for what’s right.”

Sirius let go of the shirt, shaking his head, and stormed out of the room. He doubted any of them wanted to be around him after that. He yanked his coat off its hook and threw open the front door, and found the nearest abandoned alley to apparate from.

“Si–” Lily called, coming around the corner, just as the spell went off. He didn’t get a good look at her face. For that, he was thankful.

Chapter Text

Sirius stared at the broomstick in the window. People jostled passed him. Diagon Alley was fairly lively today; though nothing compared to the crowds he remembered as a kid.

Sirius knew he should walk away – he had come down this street for a reason – but the broomstick held him in place. It had a gorgeous black polish; just the kind Regulus would have favoured. Regulus had always liked darks. The deeper the colour the better. He had walked around like a constellation come to life, with broaches of silver and emerald rings. There was no reason to stay, staring. It wasn’t as if Sirius had the money to buy it, even if Regulus was still alive.

Get on with it, Sirius ordered himself. He forced his gaze away and started walking, even as his throat tightened until he couldn’t breathe.

BOOM!

An explosion ricocheted through the street from behind him. Sirius was thrown to the cobblestones with the force of it. He caught himself, rolled. His ears sung with a piercing pitch. He looked over his shoulder, bewildered. Three doors down, one of the apartments above the shop had lost all its windows. Glass was scattered everywhere. Black fire curled along the panes. Screams lit up the street. Witches and wizards fled. No need to wait for the dark mark in the sky, everyone knew when to run.

Sirius came to his feet. He never thought he’d be so relieved to see a Death Eater attack. He dashed towards the building. He needed to get there before the Witch Watchers.

Sirius figured his parents were right about one thing: Regulus must have known someone in the Dark Lord’s circle. And chances were, Sirius knew them too. All he had to do was rip off their mask before they apparated away. He drew his wand and sprinted into a small alley.

A cloaked figure ran towards him. Sirius readied a stunning spell. Then– Just before the words left his lips, Sirius thought, why are they coming toward me? He hesitated as the figure froze. They stood by the stairs the back stairs. The person threw back their hood. Sirius blinked; he recognised that face. It belonged to the muggleborn he’d saved from a pub fight. Well. Mostly saved.

He’s not one of them. Sirius guess, but he didn’t have time to ask questions. He rushed up the stairs and onto a small landing, leaving the other wizard behind.

The entire apartment was aflame now. Sirius waved his wand to send the door flying wide, a counter curse on his lips. He stepped into the front room and caught a glimpse of a robed figure turning in a circle. No, you don’t!

“Stupefy!”. His spell hit hard, ending the Death Eater’s motion. Someone swore. Sirius thought he recognised that voice. It can’t be. Just as Sirius rounded a burning bookshelf, the second Death Eater levitated his ally. Throwing up a shield, the dark wizard shoved his comrade out the window and went crashing down into the street.

Black flames chewed at the walls, despite Sirius’ attempt to curtail their magic. Heavy smoke coated the ceiling and tried to push into his throat. With a cough, Sirius held his collar to his nose and cast a water-making spell to fend off the fire. The wizard from the side street came in behind him and tried to hit the Death Eaters with an entangling rope. He missed.

Another explosion ripped through the building as the dark mages hit the lower floor. The flames flared violently. The wizard beside Sirius jumped away from the hungry fire and nearly lost his footing. Sirius caught him before he could fall out the window after them.

“Let’s get out of here.”

The wizard nodded. They fled the way they’d come. Naturally, the main street was already filling up with Watchers and Patrollers. Not that they’d arrived in time to catch the Death Eaters.

 “This way,” the wizard said. Sirius followed after him through a warren of backaches and empty shops. They stepped back onto Diagon Alley most the way to Gringotts.

The wizard heaved a sigh. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Nor did I,” Sirius said. “Did you know who lived...?”

“No. I was just... here. In the area.” The wizard tucked his wand away. “I’ve been wanting to speak you, actually. But you’re a tough man to pin down.”

Hand now free, he held it out. “I’m Benjamin Fenwick, by the way. I don’t think I mentioned that last time.”

“And why are you looking for me, Mr Fenwick?”

“Please call me Benjy. I’ve heard you’ve been asking around. Looking for... people in the know.”

Sirius surveyed Benjy with renewed interest – and suspicion. He blamed his mother for his fundamental wariness but, despite common opinion, Sirius had no reason to think only pure-bloods we siding with Voldemort. Especially not these days. If that second Death Eater was who Sirius thought it was, admissions had to be open to anyone.  Just because Benjy dressed like a muggle didn’t mean he wasn’t suspect. The Imperius curse could turn anyone to the dark side.

But for all the reasons Sirius had not to trust Benji Fenwick, he recognised that he was even more suspicious. If he wasn’t a dark wizard with an agenda, then maybe he could assume Benjy wasn’t either. Besides, Benjy hadn’t stunned him behind before – Sirius had certainly given him the opportunity.

Sirius shook his hand.

“Would you like to get a drink?” Benjy asked.

Sirius offered him a lazy smile. “As long as you buy the round.”

*

Sirius knocked on the Evanses’ door and braced himself for an encounter with Lily’s older sister. But it was her father who answered the door. “Ah, you’re the lad from Lily’s birthday.”

“Sorry to bother you, Mr Evans. I was looking for Lily. I thought she might be here.”

“Oh, no. She’s got a shift.”

Sirius frowned. He didn’t think Lily wore shifts. Not since they left school. They wouldn’t fit beneath jeans. “She’s doing laundry?”

“What?” Mr Evans laughed. “Oh! No, no. She works at the local. She won’t be back for a few hours but you’re welcome to stay.”

“I am?”

“Of course.” He held open the door. “My wife isn’t home, so it’ll just be us.”

“Petunia isn’t here?” Sirius followed the man inside. The house was exactly as he remembered it, minus the boisterous house guests.

“Oh, no. Tuney has got a job as a secretary in London. We thought Lily might pick up some work there too, on your end of things. But from what I hear, work has dried up...”

He said the last part like a question. Like he was entertaining hope Lily had been exaggerating.

“Yeah, you could say that.”  

“Well, I sympathise at least. Layoffs haven’t spared Cokeworth, by any means. ‘Crisis? What crisis?’ If Callaghan wasn’t out before that comment, he is now.”

Sirius had no idea what Mr Evans was talking about, but he made a sound of subdued agreement. He guessed Lily hadn’t told her parents how bad the war was getting – or maybe as muggles they couldn’t grasp it. Mr Evans took him into the kitchen, where he admitted he was hopeless at cooking and jovially asked if Sirius had any tips. “I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I can do tea.”

“Tea sounds great.”

The man turned a few knobs on the stove and set a kettle atop the flames. Sirius had seen this before, but rarely enough that the process still fascinated him. He stepped closer to what the even ring of blue burn.

“Lily just charms it hot these days. She’s brilliant. Always was.” Mr Evans sighed. “Sometimes I worry we stifled her. Before we knew about Hogwarts and your lot... my wife thought the folks on the street might report her somewhere.”

“She wasn’t stifled. Not by you.”

Sirius knew what that kind of house felt like, suffocating and cold, even on the hottest day of summer. This place was nothing like that. This house was a home.

Mr Evans smiled. “Milk?”

“No thanks.”

They carried their cups into the sitting room, where the box of moving pictures played a program. Sirius couldn’t help but be drawn to it. At the party, it had been the domain of children. He hadn’t had a chance to ask about it. “Is it like a wireless?”

His mother used to have a radio in the house—forever tuned into wizarding society’s only station. Britain didn’t have many singers, so they often imported songs from overseas or hosted shows to fill in the time. When they weren’t playing music reporters discussed the lasted news, comedians performed their sets, or actors read off a script.

On Sirius more reckless evenings, he snuck into the morning room at Grimmauld Place and worked at the radio. He fiddled with in night after night, converting the thing over to a muggle station. He got it to work for about three minutes before his mother realised what had happened. She blasted the thing to pieces. She never got it repaired or replaced.

Not that it would have changed much. These days, the wizard’s station was mostly silent. No one wanted to make themselves at target. 

“Well... a little,” Mr Evans replied. “You don’t have tellys in the wizarding world?”

Sirius shook his head. “We have plays sometimes. Nativities and the like... We can apparate or use the floo network to get just about anywhere, so long as we know where you’re going. Distance doesn’t matter much to us.”  

Mr Evans made an impressed sound and sat down on an old armchair. The man searched his pocket for a moment then pulled out a small white box. He flicked out a couple cigarette from the packet and plucked out the longest. “Lils never tells me much. She used to –  she would bring things home from school just to show me: frog spawn, little glass spheres, potion bottles.”

He smiled and held out the cigarettes. Sirius leaned over and snagged one. He pressed his finger to the end and set it alight with a hint of magic, taking a drag before it could go out.

Mr Evans chuckled. “That’s mighty convenient.” He got out a small tube and pressed his thumb against the top. The metal flicked open and a steady light, like a candle, glowed a hair’s breadth away from his skin. Mr Evans pressed the end of his own cigarette to the flame and breathed in. He let the fire go out and exhaled a pool of smoke.

“Can I see?” Sirius held out his hand. Mr Evans handed the tube over. Sirius examined it for a moment before attempting to get the candle going. After his third attempt, he got the trick and stared at the flame. “Huh.”

“We muggles have our inventions, eh?”

Sirius grinned and handed back the tube-candle, flame once more put out. “Endlessly.”

They smoked and chatted. The telly remained a point of fascination, especially when Mr Evans showed him how to change between the channels. There was a show on the air about animals – not magical ones, obviously. Muggles struggled to see magical creatures, much less comprehend them. But the mundane sort. Sirius had never realised how interesting someone could make the life of a bird sound.

As Mr Evans promised, Lily came home a couple hours later. “I’m back!” she called, though the sound of her going through the door had been enough to announce her arrival. She was hanging up her coat as Sirius stepped into the hall. Her auburn hair hung in a braid from the back of her grey flat cap.

“’Evening, Red.”

Lily startled and missed the hook. Her coat dropped to the ground. She spun to face him, mouth falling open. Recovering swiftly, she glared at him. “Black.”

Sirius picked up the coat and set it on the hook. “How was work?”

“Terrible. Why are you here?”

“Terrible? I should’ve come another day.”

She pulled off her gloves and dropped them on the old bureau. She sniffed at him. “You’ve been smoking with Dad.”

“Guilty.”

She shook her head and grabbed his sleeve. “Come on.”

He followed her upstairs – via Mr Evans, “Thanks for letting him in, dad,” – and into her room. She closed the door. “What is it then?”

Sirius stretched out on the couch, which he recognised now as Petunia’s old bed. “Did you like my present?”

Lily frowned. “Is this a social visit?”

“Can’t it be?”

She sat down on her bed and peered at him. “Last time we spoke, you ran out here in a tiff. You haven’t answered my owls. I went over to your flat but you weren’t there. Where have you been, Sirius?”

“Out.”

Lily sighed. “Great. You come all the way here and you tell you’ve been out. You know, we can’t be here for you if–”

“This isn’t about me.” Sirius crossed his legs and hung his feet off the end of the bed. “I figured you should be the first to know.”

“Know what?”

Sirius took a deep breath, fully prepared to be blasted out of the house. “Snivellus is a Death Eater.”

Lily went very, very still.

Sirius gazed at her, waiting for her verdict. Either she believed him or she didn’t.

She glanced off, eyes set. Toward his house, Sirius realised after a moment. “Where did you hear that?”

“There was an attack in Diagon Alley today. I was almost hit the blast.”

She looked at him incredulously. “Do not tell me you–”

“I’ve been I’m investigating them. I figured they’d strike the place eventually. My luck it was so soon.”

“Sirius!” Lily stood. “Death Eaters are–”

“I know what they are.” He sat up. “They’re also my best bet at finding my brother. I didn’t catch any but I did hear one of them cast a spell. Too panicked for a non-verbal, his mistake. I’d know that reedy voice anywhere. It was Snape.”

She dropped back onto her bed. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Sirius shrugged. “I thought about not telling you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“You believe me?”

“Yeah.” Lily’s eyes darkened. “I do.”

Sirius relaxed a little. Snape was always a testy subject with Lily. A couple years ago, if he accused the lousy git of being a Death Eater Lily would have given him the cold shoulder for weeks. Now she pursed her lips and stared at the floor. Sirius was well acquainted with the feeling. She knew Snape could be bigoted; Sirius knew Regulus had more than passing interest in the Dark Arts. That didn’t mean either of them were given members of Voldemort’s murder crusade.

“I guess I should have...” Lily sighed, “expected it. After everything.”

“I always thought Reggie was a different kind of bastard.” Sirius made a face. “That sounds stupid out loud.”

“That should be a familiar feeling,” Lily quipped.

Sirius stuck out his tongue at her.

Lily smiled. “You have a big heart, Sirius. You don’t like listening to it but it’s there, beating away. James hears it. I hear it. Regulus probably heard it too. I’m sure he’s glad that you’re looking for him.”

Sirius shrugged. “Better than having my parents hunting down every muggleborn in Britain. I swear they looked ready to start an inquisition when they told me – seemed to think I’d know who did it.”

“Sirius. That’s terrible.”

“That’s my parents.” Sirius brushed back his bangs. “So, do you know where Snape is at these days?”

She shook her head. “He’ll never come back here. He despises Cokeworth. Always has.”

“Damn.” That was his one and only lead arriving at a dead end.

“His mother might know.”

Sirius sat up swiftly. “She’s alive?”

“… yes?”

“Huh... I always assumed he was an orphan or something. He dressed like one.”

“Sirius.”

“What?”

“You’re reminding me that you’re a horrible person.”

“Well, I’ve got to sometimes, Red. I can’t have you under any illusions about who your friends are.”

Lily snorted. “Get your jacket. I’ll introduce you to her.”

They bid farewell to Mr Evans on the way out. As Lily closed the door behind her, she sighed. “This is why I didn’t invite you around.”

“Hm?”

“He loves you already.” She huffed. “I have no idea how you do it. You’re a mean, shameless egotist yet somehow everyone likes you.”

Sirius smiled. “I’d heard a rumour you don’t mind me either, Red.”

She rolled her eyes. “You wore me down.”

“You’re plenty charming too, you know.” Sirius strolled down the steps onto the pavement. “You wooed James away from Quidditch.”

She laughed. “You need your memory checked. He asked me out first.”

“Nah, that wasn’t real. He thought you were pretty, sure, but he wasn’t serious. Seventh year... you won him over, Lily. He fell head over heels for you and he hasn’t gotten his balance back yet. You’re a miracle worker, I’m telling you.”

She smiled and started down the street. “Come on, the town gets rough after dark.”

Sirius doubted the local muggles could do much to a pair of capable wizards – certainly not if they were anything like the ones in London – but quickened his step regardless.

They tracked through a concrete park filled with kids, down another street and around a corner. Along the way, buildings stopped looking haggard and became downright dilapidated. Sirius couldn’t imagine anyone living in a place like this – at least not for long. They’d die from the stench.

Lily elbowed him. “Be polite or I’m taking you home.”

Sirius winced at the pain in his side but nodded. He did his best to affect apathy rather than contempt.

Lily turned down a narrow alley  halfway down a dead-end row. It opened out into a cramped concrete square. A breeze caught the smell from the smallest buildings and Sirius nearly gagged. All about them ugly brick houses faced the yard. Clothing hung from lines above their head. Several small children played, skipping ropes or kicking a ball. Lily continued, unfazed, over to one of the doors. She tapped its grimy doorknocker a few times and waited.

Sirius wasn’t sure where he ever pictured Snape living when he wasn’t at Hogwarts, but he was fairly sure he wasn’t muggle enough to imagine this. A part of him was convinced he was staring at some kind of enchantment, much like the one at his parent’s house on Grimmauld. He tried to peek through the curtains but they were drawn up tight.

After a moment, the door swung open and an old crone of a woman leered over the threshold. She had the same waxy, dull hair as her son but for the colour: a cheerless grey.

She brightened when she saw Lily. Remarkable on a face so alike to Snape’s – Sirius was fairly certain Snape was incapable of looking happy. The moment she saw Sirius, Mrs Snape retracted her smile and peered at him like a crow might a rotten carcass. Sirius tucked his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and stared back at her expectantly.

“Is this a bad time?” Lily asked.

“No. Not for you.” Mrs Snape retracted her look. “Come in.”

Sirius followed Lily inside.

The front room might have passed as a modest sitting room but for the myriad of things crammed into every corner. A table took up most of the space, piled high with plates, boxes, and an old record player. There was a small bookcase with leather bound tomes just inside the door. Sirius scanned the titles and recognised several textbooks from his school days. They looked distinctly like Snape’s ratty old ones – he couldn’t believed they’d survived the journey home.

Mrs Snape set a kettle on the tiny stove against the wall and flicked on the gas without asking if they wanted tea. Sirius squinted. He could have sworn Snape was a half blood. Snape certainly wasn’t a wizarding surname, so Sirius had always guessed his mother had been a witch. Perhaps Snape was a dirty liar on top of everything else.

“Please sit. It’s been a while since you popped in, Lily. I’m afraid Sevvy isn’t here.” Mrs Snape started hunting for teabags in her over packed cupboards.

If Sirius hadn’t matured in recent years, he might have chuckled at the nickname. As it was, he could think of several things better to say when he saw Snape next. Though few would be considered legal. Lily shot him a warning look anyway; he waved his hand, dismissing her concerns.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been round,” Lily said. “It’s been hectic since I started at work.”

“It’s good to see you grow into an independent young woman.” Mrs Snape eyed Sirius with another narrow look.

“This is my friend, Sirius,” Lily said. “Sirius, this is Eileen. Eileen, Sirius.”

The woman looked him up and down, then her eyes flew wide. “Sirius like the star?”

The question would not have rattled him but for the location and the woman who asked it. He couldn’t imagine any the muggles around here knowing the names of stars, but the ‘dog star’ was first year work at Hogwarts. “Yes. Like the star.”

“Oh...” the witch looked about. “This place is in such a state.”

Sirius couldn’t argue with that.

The witch patted her pockets, as if looking for something, then started hunting through her cupboards. “Lily, you should have warned me!”

Lily frowned at her. “You really don’t need to fret. Sirius doesn’t mind.”

“Uh! To have a Black in my house and I’m not even dressed in proper robes.” She straightened and set a small box onto the table. “I’ll get out the good china.”

Merlin, she is a witch.

She poured out the contents of her kettle into some porcelain cups with generic pastoral patterns. The ‘good’ china, apparently. Despite his furtive looks her way, Lily offered no explanation for the strangeness of this witch – her lack of wand being only the start – and he was forced to theorise. He guessed she might be a criminal of some sort. Her actions must not have been bad enough to get her into Azkaban, but the Ministry was known for breaking wands over middling crimes. Unless she got a new one through illicit means, she wouldn’t be about to source a replacement.

Then again, she could just be a squib.

Sirius didn’t which fate would be worse.

Over tea, Eileen treated him like an honoured guest. She insisted he take the nicest seat and set down a white dolly over its threadbare cushion. Sirius didn’t understand why she didn’t cast a mending spell upon it but he accepted the seat and the tea without comment. He couldn’t help but resent her deferential attitude – it grated more than Snape’s antagonism. “You needn’t trouble yourself, Mrs Snape. I’m here unannounced.”

“It’s no trouble.” Eileen smiled sadly. “It’s been so long since I had guests. I used to work for the Malfoys when I was young, back then I.. Well, it was a long time ago.”

“The Malfoys?”

Was that why Lucius put up with Snape in first year?

“Yes, my father put in a good word for me. Did you ever meet him? Coriolanus Prince. He used to be on the same Quidditch team with Mr Malfoy.”

Sirius thought he recognised the surname, but the Princes couldn’t have been that important if one of their own lived like this. “I can’t say I have.”

“Well, I suppose you’re young.”

Sirius nodded. “I went to school with your son. We were all in the same year.”

“Oh? That is lovely. I’m sorry he’s not here.”

“We were wondering if you knew where he was staying now,” Lily said. She set down her tea. From elsewhere in the house, Sirius thought he heard shouting. Mr Snape, perhaps?

Eileen looked momentarily defeated; all the sadness of her life had suddenly packed itself into the bags under her eyes. “Oh, he’s too old for his mother now. I have no idea where he is... Even if I do miss him.”

“If he comes around, would you let me know?”

Eileen furrowed her brow. “I don’t think he’s coming back, Lily.”

“...Right.”

“But – I have the robe he left here. If you see him, could you pass it on?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll be back in a tick.” Eileen climbed the stairs.

Sirius stood, leaving his gritty tea on the table, and circled the room. At the far end, he peeked through the door and frowned. The rickety steps filled the tiny space and lead to what he guessed was the cellar. A damp draft seeped through the gap.

Lily pressed the door closed and glared at him. “Please stop acting like a tourist.”

“How many people live here?”

“These days? Just one.”

Sirius frowned because someone was definitely in the other room... Oh, he realised with a dull horror. Those are the neighbours.

Grimmauld Place shared its walls with their illustrious muggle neighbours, of course. But they also had half a dozen bedrooms and several more for entertaining, an ample garden, and a mews house. This was... He almost asked Lily to explain how a family were supposed to squeezed into two rooms without murdering each other but just then Eileen came back down the stairs. She carried an emerald green cloak and handed it to Lily.

“You see he gets it, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Eileen nodded. She smiled at Sirius. “And you’ll take care? I’ve heard things are getting heated among our kind. No one knows who to trust.”

“We’ll be careful. It was lovely to meet you, Eileen. Thank you for the tea.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome.”

They made their way out, back into the courtyard and through the alleyway. Lily sighed as they reached the street. “That was depressing.”

“I thought she was rather nice, once she forgot to call me ‘sir’.” Sirius shuddered.

Lily slapped him playfully. “She is nice.”

“Hard to believe Snivellus is her son.”

“It wasn’t her fault.”

“No. It was Snape’s.”

“Well...”

“It was his choice to turn out how he did. Mean, selfish, conniving...”

Lily sent him a hard look. “He didn’t have it easy.”

“He had you.”

“I know.”

Sirius let the argument drop. “She seemed rather sure he wasn’t coming back.”

“He was here over the summer.” Lily kicked an old bottle down the street. “He left before the funeral though.”

“Whose?”

“His dad’s.”

There was something in her tone that piqued his interest. Like his death wasn’t a simple ‘passing’.

“How did he go?”

Lily shook her. “It’s better not said.”

Sirius didn’t need to hear more to guess why someone like Severus Snape had paid a final trip home. “So, am I invited to dinner?”

Lily sighed. “You’re incorrigible.”

Chapter Text

Padfoot waited in the woods. The setting sun robbed colour from the leaves and leeched the last snatches of warmth from the air. Padfoot, with his thick black coat, was unperturbed. He sniffed at the wind every so often – though telling time was harder as a dog – until he caught Remus’ scent. He rushed after it. Padfoot lacked the reservations of a human. He had missed his friends more than he could bear.

He bounded across their little clearing and barked happily at the three of them. Oh! To be a dog. Sometimes he wondered why he ever bothered being human at all. He licked at Remus’ hand.

“Hi to you too.” Remus ruffled his fur with a sigh. He looked horrible, as usual. He struggled across the grass and eventually sat on an old fallen log. The other too busied themselves with preparations for the evening. Peter waved to Padfoot but James refused to acknowledge him.

Remus let Padfoot rest a head on his shaking legs. He ran a weak hand down Padfoot’s neck. “I wish you would make up already.”

Padfoot growled his response.

“Do you know how we resolve fights, the four of us?” Remus asked softly.

Padfoot peeked a curious eye up at his friend.

“One of us gives in. We swallow our anger and pretend it never happened. But you and James haven’t done that. You’re both stubbornly waiting for the other to give in. But you won’t. You don’t know how.”

Padfoot rolled away. The second part wasn’t news to him. And if Moony thought Sirius would apologise, he was an idiot.

“Sirius... please.”

Padfoot looked back at him. And slowly let his form change back to human. “Someone has to stop this war, Moony.”

Remus gazed at him with desperation. He looked like he was on the brink of transformation. By avoiding them, Sirius had forced him to say this now, at his worst. What a terrible friend he was. He searched himself for regret and couldn’t find it.

“Since when has this been about the war?”

“Since my brother became one of his minions at sixteen and died for it.”

“Sirius...”

“That’s how you’re justifying this?” James strode across the meadow, arms swinging wide. It was moments like this Sirius understood why he was Prongs too. Sirius held back a snarl. He wasn’t Padfoot right now. “How is tracking down your dead brother going to help the war?”

Sirius arched his brow. “I’ve been talking to a bloke. Goes by Benji. He’s going after them, doing what the Ministry can’t. I’m joining him.”

“Joining who... Who is Benji?” James shook his head. “Why would you trust some wizard you barely know?”

Sirius glared at his best friend. “It’s better than doing nothing. What have you done to help, James?”

“I’ve helped!”

“Your parents’ donations to the Ministry don’t count, Prongs.”

James’ eyes widened and his back snapped deadly straight. “I’m not the Death Eater sympathiser here!”

“That’s not what I am!”

“It sure sound like it! I thought we were brothers, Padfoot. Regulus avoided you like you were a stain! You think I didn’t notice how much he hurt you? And now I’m supposed to feel bad that he’s gone? We’re supposed to trust each other, Sirius! You’re supposed to be the best man at my wedding! Now you want to go crusading after these people – when everyone who runs into them dies? Including Regulus! Am I not allowed to think that’s absurd?”

“Of course it’s absurd.” Sirius walked up to him until there was barely an inch between them. “But has that ever stopped us? It was absurd to befriend a werewolf. It was absurd to become animagi. It was absurd make a map of Hogwarts castle! We did it anyway.”

“This isn’t the same at all!” James threw his arms up in exasperation.

“James...” Peter said, “what do you mean ‘best man’? You’re getting married?”

James froze. He gaped at Pete.

“You didn’t notice the ring, Wormtail?” Sirius asked. “I sniffed it out the moment you got here. Antique. Gold. Was it your grandfather’s?”

James took a sharp breath. “I was going to tell you... But instead, it’s all falling apart.” James stepped back. He threw up his hands. “Would you even come to the wedding?”

“You asked Lily to marry you?” Remus asked. He seemed unreasonably baffled by the concept. Maybe it was the moon. Poor Moony.

“And she said yes?” Peter added.

James threaded his fingers through his hair. “Yes and yes she did.”

“All the more reason for me to fight,” Sirius said. “Your fiancé deserves to live in a country where she feels safe.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” James said.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I thought you grew out of your naiveté. They’ll come for her, James. You can’t protect her. Not from people like them. Not until they’re all in Azkaban.”

James’ eyes shone. “But why does it have to be you?”

“I don’t know. But I’d rather ask the question: why can’t it be us?” Sirius gestured at the other three. “We’ve been looking for a new adventure. This time, we can be a force of good. And it’s more my style than volunteering at St Mungo’s, that’s for sure.”

James smiled. “You can say that again. But this Benji, I need to meet him first.”

“Sizing up the competition?” Sirius smirked.

“If I thought he was competition, I’d be challenging him to a duel, not buying him a round.” James grinned. “Those I guess I could do both.”

Without hesitation, they slammed into each other. Sirius squeezed his best mate close, refusing to leave any space to separate them.

“Challenge away,” Sirius said as they pulled out of the hug. “I think he might beat you.”

James shoved lightly. “Knob.”

“Ah.... guys?” Pete said. “Moon’s up.”

Sirius didn’t bother looking Moony’s way. He dropped into Padfoot and sniffed the air. Wolf. A painful howl ripped through the air as the transformation hit Remus’ insides first.

*

Sirius helped Remus staggered down the garden as James opened the back door. After a night of cold, damp air the lounge was cozy and warm. James tapped the kettle on the bureau, filling it with water then bringing it to boil. He floated cups from the cupboard for each of them.

Fire already burned beneath the mantle. Sirius set Remus in the chair closest to it.

Slumping into couch beside him Peter lit a cigarette and held it out to Remus. Hands still shaking, Remus took it and took a deep drag. Any other time, Remus would have rejected it softly but full moons always destroyed his reservations.

Sirius went to the other side of the room. He would never tell the others but he couldn’t stand the smell. It reminded him too much of his father’s snuff and Pollux’s cigars. He pretended to look at the street instead.

James came over. He offered Sirius a tea cup and saucer. “Three sugars and a dash of milk.”

Sirius put on an easy smile. “Good man.”

James smiled back. He turned to the others. “I don’t know about you three but I’m famished.”

James flicked his wand, casting a ringing charm. At the bell like tinging, one of the Potters house elves popped into view. Sirius turned away. It was hard to view any elf as benevolent anymore. Maybe the ones owned by the Potters were different. Sirius doubted it. Elves had more free-will than most wizards gave them credit for. Sirius smiled darkly. Like how Kreacher would cover for Regulus but never for him. Voldemort had recruited a myriad of magical creatures to his cause, why not elves?

The house elves brought out breakfast while James but on a record. “It’ll be fun,” James said. “The fighting in the war, I mean. And with us four against him, I reckon we could have You-Know-Who defeated before the wedding.”

“Not with that attitude,” Sirius poked. Remus’ worse lingered in his mind. James had given in. Sirius knew he should be thankful but all he really wanted to do was push harder. He couldn’t say why, only that the words gave him a little thrill. After weeks of misery, anything felt better. Even cruelty. “You sound like my parents. The Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. It’s pathetic. We’re never going to defeat Voldemort–”

Peter took a sharp breath.

“–if we can’t even say his name.”

“Great,” Peter said, “now you’ve summoned the bloody brigade on our heads.”

“Let them come. Maybe I’ll finally get some answers.”

“Padfoot,” Remus said in his hands, “you don’t need to light answer fire just because you put out the old one.”

Sirius stared at him. No words came to his lips to deny the accusation. He rolled his eyes. “It’s been a long night. I should head home. Unless you want to swing by the Cauldron, Wormtail?”

“Can’t. I’ve got work.”

Sirius spun on his heels to fix his gaze on Peter. “Work? Since when do you work?”

“Since I got a job. At the printers for the Prophet.”

James nodded. “He always knows what they’re sending out the next day. Wormy gets the news before anyone else.”

Peter leaned back into his armchair. “It’s dangerous, so Mum doesn't approve. But she wanted me to work, so... She can’t complain that much. No one but me wanted the job.”

Sirius gaped at him, half convinced it was a lie. Worse, if it was the truth then where did that leave him? Pete was his unemployed brother in arms. James had his father’s business. Lily was working as a potioneer. Remus make coin affixing protective charms on things... That just left him. Sirius forced himself to smile through his embarrassment. “Sounds like I need to be calling you bright and early for the latest on the Death Eaters.”

Peter laughed nervously. “If we printed stuff like that, they’d actually kill us.”

Disappointment and mirth swirled inside Sirius in equal measure. “Oh. Is that so.”

Chapter Text

“Sirius?” Peter’s voice quivered through the fireplace. Sirius shouldn’t have even been awake. Three a.m. had come and gone already. He ought to face the dreams that beckoned him. He was supposed to be courageous.

Sirius had thought having James back would lift his mood. It hadn’t. Most of James’ time was taken up with wedding plans. As a group, they had visited various venues for the reception, wandered around several Cokeworth churches, and tried countless cake samples.

James dragged Sirius along, as best man and – horridly enough – voice of reason. Lily hadn’t seemed to consider that marrying a Potter would make her very, very rich. James, for his part, only now seemed to realise Lily’s family were muggles and only Lily’s immediate family knew about magic. That made all wedding plans an order of magnitude more complicated. The happy couple were stressed out of their minds. Sirius tried to put his best efforts into his role as mediator. It wasn’t as if Petunia, Lily’s maid-of-honour, was up for the task. But everything just felt so... farcical.

First, there was the war. While James panicked over being expected to wear a muggle suit, rather than a proper wedding robe, Sirius couldn’t help but feel his time was better spent.

Then there was the grief, always. James’ engagement did not stop Regulus from being dead. It only showed how little the world cared. Time moved on. Only Regulus would stay forever as he had been.  

The third snag to renewed happiness, Sirius found at the bottom of a bottle of brandy. Three weeks after agreeing to be James’ best man, Sirius realised that he did not want them to be married. When James first started fancying Lily, it felt like a joke. James pined. They teased. Lily was none the wiser. When James finally came out with a confession and Lily threw it back in his face, Sirius had honestly thought that was it.  

James said he was going to focus on Quidditch and Sirius believed him. And once his best mate had stopped crushing on Lily, Sirius had seen to reason not to befriend her. Not that he had gone out of his way but they had both ended up in Advanced Astronomy when none of their friends had continued the subject after their OWLs.

For the first time since his schooling began, Sirius had actually started to find his classes difficult. And so, he had terrorised Lily Evans into being his study partner. He knew she had a good head on her shoulders. But instead of letting him mooch answers off her, she had sat him down and actually taught him how to study. There were very few people who could make him do much of anything and for that, Sirius decided he very much liked her.

Sometimes, Sirius thought maybe he should have dated her himself back then.

Instead, he reintroduced her to his friends. A year later, James and Lily were an item. It had changed them – the Marauders. She learned their secrets one by one: the map, the illegal magic, the werewolf. Sirius hadn’t minded, not as much as Peter. Lily had slotted herself into their group, but she never learned to transform into an animal. They never invited her to the Forbidden Forest on full moons. That was for them.

Marriage was different. Marriage was obligations and children and festering grievances. It was the kind of change that was irreversible. It would break them apart and stick them together anew: the lovely Potters; their old friends. A line drawn with two rings. Sirius was happy for them. He was miserable for himself.

There was no one that might fill that place for him. Resentment scratched at his heart, scarring his words. They got the supportive families. They got a disagreeable sibling with a life ahead of her. They got each other.

Sirius stared into the bottom of the bottle and wondered if he could love someone or if that was impossible for a Black, disgraced or otherwise.

“Sirius!”

He cast one bleary eye at the fireplace and found Peter’s face leaning through it. “Are you—” he coughed “—there?”

Sirius looked up at the ceiling. “What do you want?” He wasn’t in the mood for this.

“It’s your dad. You have to see this.” Peter tossed something through the fire. “Come here.”

Sirius’ entire body tensed and suddenly he felt very much sober. He staggered to his feet. Maybe he shouldn’t have opened that last bottle...

“Shit,” Peter squeaked, then disappeared. The green flames returned to a low, red ember.

What? It took a moment for Sirius’ brain to catch up to what was happening. He knelt and snatched up the note on the floor. It was some address in Hogsmeade. What did that have to do with his dad? Sirius wanted to ignore it. Instead, he crumpled up the note in his hand and grabbed a handful of floo powder. He tossed it into the flames and muttered the address.

When he walked through, nose filling with smoke, he found himself inside the brightly lit office of a workshop. Printing presses worked loudly on the other side of an internal window. Sirius didn’t need to see more to guess where he was standing. Peter’s new workplace. Sirius looked about for Wormtail. He heard his friend’s voice before he saw him.

“It won’t happen again, sir.”

“Make sure of it,” another wizard grunted.

“Yes, sir.” Peter ducked his head humbly. The wizard moved off. Peter made a rude gesture at the man’s back before scurrying into the office. He spotted Sirius. “Bloody bastard that guy. Not like he can fire me. No one else is going to put up with this.”

“Was that your supervisor?”

“Yep. Seems to think a print jam is my fault even when I’m on break.” Peter rounded the desk towards him. “Sorry if I woke you, I thought you’d want…” He sniffed. “Have you been drinking?”

Sirius made a dismissive gesture. “Just a glass or two.”

Peter frowned. He looked like he might say something, then decided against it. He positioned himself behind the desk and grabbed a folded stack of papers. “This is what we’re printing. I’m guessing you’d would want to know.”

Peter unfolded it to show the front page in full.

ORION BLACK CONDEMNS MINISTRY EFFORTS: “UTTER INCOMPETANCE!”

Sirius did not read the rest. His brain stopped working before he could.

“Apparently, he stormed into Minister Minchum’s office demanding he do more about the ‘rampant corruption’ within the Auror department,” Peter said. “He left the door open.”

Sirius shook his head. It wasn’t possible.

“He said Minchum should be more even more ruthless against ‘this scourge of utter incompetence’.” Peter bit his lip. “He wants recruitment doubled. Says Minchum should be fighting fire with fire. That he should license the use of Dark Arts against suspicious individuals…” Peter modulated his voice to recite, “‘This divisive force must not be allowed to fester,’ so he says. You can guess who he means.”

“But why…?” Sirius breathed. His parents would never say this.

“Because his son is dead. He says that You-Know-Who is a threat to everyone.” Peter held out the page. “They’ve planned the funeral, Sirius. It’s tomorrow… today I guess.”

“But they don’t have a body.”

Right?

Would they have told him, if they did?

“I think they’ve given up on finding it.”

Sirius managed a single, strained breath. “Merlin.” Then another. “He’s going to get us all killed.”

“But isn’t this kind of good thing? Your dad finally agrees–”

Rage flashed through Sirius. “Good!?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Shh! I’m not supposed to have anybody back here.”

Sirius lowered his voice but didn’t lose his fury. “Nothing has changed. My father is simply shifting the blame. If it can’t be me, might as well be the Ministry.” Sirius saw the disbelief in Peter’s eyes.

Sirius pulled away. He wouldn’t have this argument again. He’d gone in circles with Remus too many times already. No, he wasn’t going to reach out. No, there wasn’t going to give them ‘one more chance’. No, he did not miss them!  Remus never understood how many times Sirius had tried. How long he had held out hope that they might accept him for himself and not tally all his failings against their expectations.

This changed nothing.

So his brain knew. His heart, ever willing to be broken, fluttered with renewed hope.

“Merlin’s Beard.”

He knew, even if he would deny it to anyone who asked, he was going to go home.

Peter said nothing else.

Sirius set a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Wormtail. You’re a good mate.”

“I thought it was good news.”

“Good is relative when it comes to my family. At least its news.”

Peter’s expression lifted a little. “Yeah… Are you going to the funeral?”

“No.” And it was half true. “Mind if I take this?”

“That’s the proof. We’re not supposed to let that leave the office… but the first branch should be done, if you want an early copy.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah. I’ll take that.”

*

Against all good sense, Sirius strode into Grimmauld Place as the sun peaked over the horizon. He hadn’t slept much. He had agonised over the news. Staying clear of this place was all that was keeping him sane. Yet here he was, pealing back the protective charms and facing Number 12 all over again.

His childhood home hadn’t changed much from the outside. The same fine marble façade looked back at him. The same old curtains were pulled closed in the windows. He pushed through the wrought iron gate and went up to the door. It wasn’t locked; the wards did more to protect the house than any lock could.

He stepped instead and immediately tripped over Walburga’s umbrella stand. He caught himself before he could fall over and kicked the stupid thing. Just the kind of welcome he expected from a house that had always hated him.

Sirius expected to find the interior buzzing with family, even so early in the morning. When he had been a boy, before he had started at Hogwarts, the house had never been empty. His aunts and cousins had all shared the space while the country house underwent much needed renovations. Even after they had fixed the place up, only Uncle Alphard had wanted to stay there. Too many ghosts.

Now, it was like no one lived here at all. Sirius noticed with no small amount of confusion that the mantle on the fireplace hadn’t been dusted recently. Some of the portraits were in need of a new varnishing, stained yellow from years of grime and smoke. Little things, but they spoke of a degradation Sirius had never ascribed to his family.

His confusion brought him further into the house. He climbed the staircase, passed the beheaded elf collection Walburga had inherited and added to. Lamps burst to life as he passed closed doors and wide corridors.

He peaked into Andromeda’s old room and wasn’t surprised to find it filled with junk. Morning light slunk through her window from the street. Furniture crowded around her bed. A family of fairies buzzed around the ceiling light, throwing shadows on the rosette. Outside, muggle London was waking up.

Sirius closed the door softly and continued his ascent. He could hear his mother’s snores from down the hall. Her bedroom door was mercifully closed. He padded up the final flight and came to face his own name.

Sirius Black written with a flourish, inscribed on a golden plate. Its presence didn’t match the rest of the house at all. He reached for the handle, half turned it to open, before he thought better of it. No. He didn’t want to see what they had made of his old life. Better to keep it as it had been in his memories: a sanctuary against their ridicule.

He almost couldn’t face Regulus’ door. When he did, the state of the wood shocked him. Deep scratches bored through the paint. The old plaque was gone, replaced by a simple card. Sirius stared at the lengthy message, penned in Regulus’ hand.

Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black

Sirius pursed his lips. “How am I supposed to get your permission now, idiot?”

He pressed his hand on the door, then turned away. He went downstairs, all the way back to the drawing room. It was the largest in the house and could serve as a ballroom in a pinch. A large chandelier filled the space with light, flushing everything with a warm gold hue. Several sitting places filled the room. Books slept on shelves. His father’s desk overlooked their private garden.

A tapestry filled the entire wall to his left. Curling golden script proclaimed every ancestor his family had ever claimed. Tiny black marks hid the names of those they didn’t. Sirius’ gaze fell to the bottom, finding his own name easily. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl when he realised it was still there. He expected it to be blackened just the same. He almost burned it himself, just to spite them. Just to rid himself of this foul association at last.

Sirius Orion Black. Born 1959. Only a few inches away, Regulus’ name shimmered gold, and beneath it… 1961 – 1979.

Sirius turned away. He felt like Walburga, swept up by disbelief of a reality laid bare. The rest of the room told a story of stagnation. Nothing else had changed here. Sirius would get no answers in this room. He closed the door behind him.

As Sirius plodded down to the ground floor, he came across Kreacher. The aging elf looked haggard. Ill, even. His wrinkly sick was marred with self-inflicted injuries. His skin was waxier than usual. He wore the same disapproving grimace long reserved for Sirius. “Master Sirius has returned,” he choked.

A flash of rage sparked in Sirius’ lungs. “I’m no master to you!”

The elf shied back but did not lose his look of condemnation. “Master Sirius invites himself into places where he is not wanted. Lawless as he is, even common politeness is lost to him.”

Sirius scowled at him. Why Regulus had ever liked his two-faced fey Sirius would never understand. Then again, Sirius didn’t understand anything Regulus had done lately.

“You know something,” Sirius accused. “He trusted you.”

“Kreacher does not know what Master Sirius is referring to.”

“My brother, elf. You know what he was doing.”

“Master Regulus did many things. He was a diligent boy. Ambitious and hardworking. A proper son for the Noble House of Black.”

Sirius huffed with derision. Of course that’s what Kreacher would say. “I see you’re as useless as ever.”

Sirius shoved the house elf aside and finished his descent. He knew he should leave – he shouldn’t have even come – but his conversation with Kreacher had only stirred up his need for a confrontation. He sauntered into the dining room to make use of the family China and discovered the one thing that had changed in this tired old house.

Across the walls, hanging from silver frames, were countless photographs. Sirius remembered when there had only been a few. The family preferred to pose for portraits than have their picture taken, but Regulus loved cameras. Ever since Uncle Cygnus had bought him one for his ninth birthday it was like Regulus hadn’t been able to put the thing down.

Regulus had a knack for it. He noticed little things. That’s what made him such a good Seeker, shapeshifting abilities aside. There were probably thousands of photographs, tucked away somewhere. Only these warranted being hung up.

There were several gaps, likely the ones depicting the family, swept away for the funeral. Sirius looked over each picture. The sun rose over a mountain somewhere Sirius didn’t recognise. Walburga gazed out the window in her boudoir. A hand played in lake water, creating patterns with the ripples. Sirius lifted it off the hook and stared at the distorted reflection. For an instant, he caught Regulus’ eyes before his hand traced over them.

No matter how hard Sirius tried to make sense of Regulus’ life after their estrangement, he couldn’t. How could the person who took photos of sleeping dugbogs and insisted dementors weren’t inherently evil turn into a Death Eater?

Sirius peered at the photo of his brother, trapped in a moment of peace. Where was this? What did he take it? Who… who was standing behind him? Sirius held the picture closer, trying to make out the person’s face in the dark reflection. If Sirius could just recognise their face, maybe Sirius could track them down and learn what was going through his brother’s head.

The more Sirius discerned though, the stranger her presence in the photograph became. The curves of her body leaned towards female. Her hair framed her face in the way Mary MacDonald sometimes wore hers. Sirius didn’t think Regulus knew anyone like that. But that wasn’t what was so unnerving about her–

“Merlin,” Sirius breathed as he realised what was bothering him. The girl was wearing muggle clothes. They both were. Sirius dropped his hands and backed into the table. “What were you doing?”

The photograph didn’t answer.

Sirius gazed at the others on the walls. He realised now just how many pictured muggle London. The tall tower muggles had built nearby. A café. A butterfly perched on the local church gate. Why? Sirius couldn’t decode the answer.

He set his jaw and opened the back of the photo frame. He slipped the picture out of the glass and tucked it into his pocket.

“Kreacher said you were here.”

Sirius spun around, instantly braced for a fight.

Walburga stood in the doorway. A silk dressing gown cloaked her body. Her hair was pulled back in a low, austere bun. Her skin was swallow; her eyes were red.

“I didn’t think you would come,” she said.

“That happens when someone isn’t invited.”

Walburga sighed. “Might you not fight me, just once? Just for today? We are wounded enough.” She crossed the door and began preparing a pot of tea.

“You could have sent an owl.”

“You wouldn’t have answered.” Walburga poured the tea into two cups. She held one out to him. “I do know you, Sirius. You wouldn’t have come if I called. That’s why I told your father to announce the funeral in the paper.”

“He did more than that.”

Walburga frowned. “Well. I imagine there was some embellishments. Regulus was…”

“Father chose a side.”

Walburga’s hand froze. She looked at him. She didn’t know.

“My friend works at the paper. He had this wild notion that you two had come around to my side. That we would resolve our differences. I see I was right – you, at least, are not that fickle.”

Walburga didn’t allow herself to be baited. She pulled her lips into a thin, neutral line. “Take your tea, Sirius. Do not stir things up today.”

Sirius dearly wished he could. She looked so despondent. But today was only special for one reason. “How could you give up on him? I’m looking. As hard as I can, I’m looking.”

“He can’t be found.”

“Who told you that? Who? Father?”

“It’s obvious. We’ve searched. We’ve searched and we’ve searched and I… Somethings must be accepted. Like I accepted, long ago, that you were a lost cause. As good as dead to us.” She sighed. “At least Regulus died fighting for something.”  

“Oh. I’m going to fight for something. Don’t you worry, Mama. And so, apparently,” Sirius brandished the paper, “is dear Papa. It’s all over the front page. Reggie’s funeral will bring you no peace. You’ll be lucky if they don’t storm the chapel and kill everyone there.”

Walburga glared at him.

Ah.

There was the mother he knew.

“He can’t accept he’s to blame so offsets his guilt by pointing fingers at someone else. May as well be the one group of people actually trying to do something.” Sirius shone a wide, manic grin. “Of course, if he thought about it of a minute, he would recognise that if anyone outside this family is to blame not the Aurors. He should be going after the real villain here: Voldemort.”

She laughed. A shrill, jagged sound that pierced him with every note. “Is that what brought you here? You thought he – what – suddenly became a disgrace like you?”

“Regulus wouldn’t be gone if either of you had listened to me!”

“How vindicated you sound. Today is your brother’s funeral and all you can do is claim your victory? How absurd. No, how obscene! Have you no grace?” She set her tea down to face him fully. “How long have you wanted to say that? You have spent your life trying to prove your parents wrong.”

Walburga’s expression stretched with a mirthless smile. “Oh, I’m sure you think that’s what has happened here. That you are justified for the hearts who have broken and the hopes you destroyed. But one man’s folly does not change what is good and right and pure! Magic is power and we are MAGIC! The greatest of all. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Nothing – nothing – will ever change that.”

“You still haven’t realised it, Mama? A smart witch like you? Time will change that but maybe I’ll enlighten you. This line will end with me. We’re all going die and there will be no one else to carry on our foul name. Regulus would have, for you. And you let him go to Voldemort! Now you won’t even wait until I find his body to bury him, you pathetic witch.”

“Get out! Leave this house!”

“Gladly!” Sirius pushed passed her, more furious than ever. He stomped through the house, wanting her to hear. Wanting his words to ring in her ear.

“I banish you!” she shouted down the hall. “You are not welcome in this house ever again!”

Sirius seethed with his hatred as he ripped open the front door.

“You will never find him!” She screamed. “NEVER!”

He slammed the door closed.