Chapter Text
The morning of the last day of October 1969, was as ordinary as any of the thousands of mornings Sirius had lived through before it, so he never expected the day to be one he would never forget. He woke to Kreacher’s insistent knocking on his door, which he'd barricaded shut with a chest of drawers, as he'd taken to doing since his parents had broken the lock on his door, years before. Privacy was a privilege he'd proven undeserving of, apparently.
Sirius dragged himself to breakfast with his family and sat in the cold, stiff-backed chair in the dining room with his cold, stiff-backed parents. He endured his standard lecture of the morning from his father about lateness and deportment, not that he was listening, then was turned over to his French tutor. He gave his usual blank-faced, indifferent response to his tutor’s reprimands when he failed to pay attention, and bit back a wince when the tutor rapped him over the knuckles for looking up swear words in the French dictionary. By the afternoon, he was left alone to peruse the library by himself—“independent study,” his parents and tutors called it, not that there was ever anything interesting to read among the dusty volumes, at least, not anything Sirius hadn’t discovered already.
Still, despite the way the day dragged forwards as almost any other day in his young life had, Sirius was boiling over with anger by the time he’d been left alone that afternoon. It should be said, however, that this wasn’t an uncommon feature of a standard day of his, either, though the point at which Sirius became ready to tear the house apart, bit by bit, varied day by day. That day, it came early.
As the tutor’s footsteps faded away down the corridor, Sirius pushed his chair back from the table forcefully and leapt to his feet, raising his middle finger in a careless gesture to the door, at the same time as employing some of the select swear words he'd learned that day. The satisfaction of saying them aloud didn’t last long, however, and Sirius didn’t hesitate to stride over to one of the bookshelves lining the library wall.
He wrenched out a book at random, then hurled it across the room as hard as he could. It hit the opposite wall before falling to the ground, a few pages sticking out the side. Not bothering to step forward to grab it again, Sirius began to pace instead, the throwing of the book doing little to calm his temper.
It was lucky, he thought, that Regulus’ tutors held his brother’s tutoring sessions in the drawing room, so he wouldn’t be an audience for Sirius’ rage. Of course, it wasn’t really luck, but by design that they did this, not least because of Sirius’ occasional fits of rage, but also due to his perpetual disobedience of his tutors’ instructions. Both the tutors and their parents were still holding out hope that Sirius’ rebelliousness wouldn’t taint the younger Black brother. They were right to hope it, Sirius thought wryly.
Sirius didn’t dwell long on his gratitude for his brother’s absence, as he was too preoccupied with the itching, suffocating feeling that was stealing over him, which neither the damage to the book nor the pacing had alleviated. He sat down again in his chair, raking his fingers through his short, dark hair, and fought the urge to scream. Screaming could help, Sirius reasoned, but it would also wake many of the portraits along the walls, which rarely took kindly to such a rousing. And screaming, after all, wouldn’t change the fact that he was trapped in this dark, gloomy house with no hope of escaping, which was all he really wanted to do.
Sirius straightened quickly as an idea came to him, as crazy, reckless ideas often did when he was in this kind of state. It was clear even at nine years old that crazy and reckless were among Sirius’ specialties, and though the two words came with venom from his mother’s lips, and with tired disappointment from his father’s, Sirius had adopted them as his own with pride.
Standing, Sirius hurried over to where the book lay on the ground and shoved it back into a bookshelf at random, ignoring the small scuff mark it had made on the wall where it had been thrown. It wouldn’t do to have Kreacher find the damaged book and tell on him to his parents, which Sirius knew the house-elf would be all too happy to do.
Sirius then hurried towards the door of the library and out of the room, glancing around the entrance hall as he closed it behind him as quietly as he could. The hall was silent, the portraits on the walls snoozing quietly. Eyes darting left and right, Sirius made a bee-line for the hallway to the front door.
As he drew closer, his pace increased, heart thumping an excited rhythm on the inside of his chest. He was mad for trying this, utterly mad. If his parents ever found out, Sirius knew that he would pay dearly for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The closer he got to the door, the more urgent the trapped feeling became, as if there was a kettle of hot water boiling inside of him, and the whistle was growing more and more piercing with every passing moment.
Reaching the entrance, Sirius reached out to touch the doorknob tentatively, as if it might burn him, but found nothing but the sensation of cool metal to greet his skin. He swung the door open slowly, terrified that its creak would alert all the portraits and Kreacher, who would come to whisk him away. The dark hall behind him remained silent, however, and as Sirius opened the door wider, a blast of cold, clear air blew past him into the house.
Sirius took a deep breath, a smile slowly spreading across his face. Despite knowing that the London air must be tainted by car exhaust and cigarette smoke and whatever else polluted the busy metropolis, Sirius felt as if he'd never breathed anything so pure in his entire life. After giving himself a moment to enjoy the cool breeze, Sirius glanced behind him furtively before hurrying out of the doorway and closing the door quietly behind him. He then took the brick steps of the house two at a time and didn’t stop running until he was two blocks away, at which point he slowed to a brisk walk.
Sirius continued to walk in the opposite direction from Grimmauld Place with an air of purpose in his steps, though he truly had no idea where he was going until he reached a bustling main street filled with shoppers. Barely anyone gave him a second look, despite the fact that he was a child without a parent in sight in the heart of London. Maybe it was the way he held his head high and didn’t let confusion or fear cross his features, or perhaps that was just London. Despite living in the city for his whole life, Sirius didn’t know much more than the inside of the gilded cage that was his own house, but he was eager to learn.
After being pushed this way and that by the crowd for several minutes as he craned his neck to look around at anything he could lay his eyes on, Sirius spotted a patch of green as he glanced down a side street, and veered towards it. After walking only a block, he reached the park nestled between the busy city streets, which was blanketed with grass and lined with large oak trees. He stopped at the gate for a moment, observing the children playing in the grass, on the play structure, and in the trees above, all apparently under the careful eyes of their parents, who sat on park benches or stood with their arms crossed, gazes trained on their youthful charges.
It occurred to Sirius only then that all of these people—the children and their parents in this park, as well as the members of the crowd that had jostled him back and forth on the sidewalk—must be Muggles. In hindsight, it should have been obvious, and yet Sirius was still taken aback by the sudden realization. he'd never talked to a Muggle before, after all, never interacted with one in any capacity, nor had he seen one so close. His family members and tutors alike had all told him stories of both the violence that Muggles had inflicted upon wizards in history and their ignorance and stupidity. Even as Sirius had grown to distrust his family’s ideas, he was still shocked by how normal the people before him looked.
Even more shocking, perhaps, was that Sirius desperately wanted to join them in the park, to open the gate and step into that non-magical world, to play with being one of the careless children who were carefully watched by their parents, not dreading the beating they would return home to if it was discovered that they were there. Sirius was so used to playing in the dingy and forgotten corners of his house on Grimmauld Place, making games with Regulus out of the dust and shadows and bits of forgotten magical objects they found there. Those sorts of games came with risk, of course—the risk of coming across something really nasty within the trinkets, which would melt their faces off or cause them to speak in riddles for the rest of their lives. This kind of game, however, felt somehow far more dangerous, as the green grass in front of Sirius seemed more of a luxury than any of the fine things contained in the Black family house. Sirius had never been one to back down from danger, however. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the gate open and entered.
The hesitation that’d kept Sirius at the gate seemed to leave him in a rush as he entered. After giving it another cursory scan, he ran over to the large metal structure where he saw several children his age sitting on plastic seats which swung from long chain links. Sirius sat on an empty seat and glanced over to the boy beside him before attempting to copy his movements, ignoring the protesting creak of the slightly rusty chain links as he moved. After a while, he got the hang of the swing, swinging in tandem with the other children beside him. He let out a careless laugh as he rose higher and higher, relishing the feeling of weightlessness—a sort of freedom.
After a few minutes, the boy next to him seemed to decide that he was an alright companion and engaged him in conversation. “What’s your name?” he asked loudly over the creak of the metal as he matched Sirius’ pace, reaching the peak of their swing at the same moment.
Sirius glanced over to him, taking in the appearance of the Muggle boy critically for a moment. He had dark hair and eyes and spoke in an accent that Sirius had never heard from any of his family members or tutors alike, but there was an air of friendliness to his voice that he rarely heard in their voices, either, and the look he was giving Sirius was earnest.
“Sirius,” Sirius replied at length, deciding finally that if his parents ever discovered that he'd left the house and ventured into a Muggle park on his own, his punishment wouldn’t differ much if he'd spoken to the Muggle boy or not.
The Muggle boy looked over at him mid-swing, a perplexed smile parting his lips. Sirius noticed that one of his front teeth was missing. “That’s your name?” the boy asked bemusedly.
Sirius’ brows knitted, not sure if he was being made fun of or not, and gave a curt nod. The boy gave a short laugh, but it wasn’t unkind, and, without prompting, offered up his own name: Jack. He also added his age (ten), which, of course, was about as important to children as their names when introducing themselves.
“I’m almost ten,” Sirius replied, recalling as he said it that his birthday was indeed right around the corner if he remembered it right. Jack seemed satisfied with the response, giving him another toothy grin. While he was remarking that he’d never seen Sirius there before, Sirius’ attention was diverted from the conversation by the sight of the sandy-haired boy on Jack’s other side launching himself off the swing at its peak and tumbling to the ground semi-gracefully. Immediately intrigued, Sirius watched the boy get to his feet and brush himself off, grinning, even as he turned his head to listen to his mother’s cautionary words from a nearby bench.
Sirius began to pump his legs harder again, trying to get more height, determined to make the same jump as the other boy had. He would land on his feet, he told himself, competitiveness roaring to life inside him. Jack seemed to cotton on to the idea Sirius had in his head, as he fell silent and watched as Sirius reached the peak of his swing and let go of the chains, propelling himself forward onto the grass in front of the swing set.
There was a moment of complete weightlessness, where Sirius felt like he was really flying, just as he had the time or two he'd tried out one of his cousins’ brooms in the countryside, before Sirius landed on his feet, back on solid ground. He stumbled slightly at the impact, which was harder than he'd expected, but managed to keep his footing, straightening proudly as he did so. A moment later, Jack landed beside him, almost managing to keep his footing, too, but falling at the last moment.
“Good one,” the boy who had first jumped commented, giving Sirius a crooked smile as he looked over at him, looking impressed.
“This is Trevor,” Jack explained as he scrambled to his feet, a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks as he gestured to the boy, who must be his friend. “We go to primary school together. This is Sirius, Trev.”
“Funny name,” Trevor commented, moving closer to them and examining Sirius up and down. “You posh?”
Sirius shrugged. “I dunno,” he said, looking down, his cheeks now burning too. When he glanced back up, however, Trevor was grinning.
“You sound posh,” he commented, but the careful coolness in his earlier words was gone. “Wanna see who can climb higher in that tree over there, posh boy?”
The challenge was something Sirius was familiar with, at least, after years of competing with Regulus, and he perked up at it, returning Trevor’s grin. “You’re on,” he said, and then they were both racing towards the tree Trevor had indicated, Jack tearing after them, his breath coming out in pants.
Sirius reached the trunk first, but this didn’t give him much of an advantage, as he paused for a moment to find something to grab onto, while Trevor, who was slightly taller than him, immediately took a running leap for a higher branch and swung himself up. Sirius scrambled after him, grabbing the knots in the trunk to push himself higher, Jack on his heels. For a few minutes, it was a battle between them, Sirius catching up to Trevor as they climbed, each taking the advantage then losing it in quick succession. Still, after a while, Trevor began to slow.
“Getting pretty high, innit?” he asked, his breaths sounding a little labored. Sirius smirked.
“Scared of heights?” he asked, pushing confidence into his tone. Trevor shot him a glare that quickly dissolved into a laugh as he watched him climb higher above him.
“Me mum’s gonna kill me if I break me arm falling out a tree,” he said, finally seeming to admit defeat and stopping to catch his breath on a lower branch. Below both of them, Jack was nearly at the same level as Trevor, heaving himself up on a branch beside his friend and looking up bemusedly at Sirius high above.
When Sirius looked back down, he could see the looks of slight fear and admiration on their faces, or perhaps that was just what he wanted to see, and he smiled, driven on not just by the thrill of the height, but also by their reactions. he'd only had Regulus as an audience for so long, it felt good to show off, and for his performance to land well.
Sirius stopped for a moment to catch his breath and looked out over the park below. The park looked smaller from this vantage point, and he could see over some of the rooftops of the shorter surrounding buildings, too. London was huge, Sirius realized for the first time. For all of his life up until this point, his world had felt so small. Today, it was like London had grown around him as he watched it, popping up out of the ground to greet him and swallowing him in its vastness. Somehow, it wasn’t a bad feeling.
As Sirius reached up to climb higher, however, a sharp crack emanated from the branch above him, and it gave away, sending him tumbling out of the tree with it. He fell past the other boys, who shouted in alarm as they watched him tumble past in a blur towards the grass below. Despite the large height he'd fallen from, however, Sirius’ fall was not as fast as one would expect, nor was the ground as hard as he might have guessed when his feet were firmly planted on it minutes before. In fact, Sirius managed to land squarely on his feet, though he was immediately knocked to his knees by the impact. Still, he doubted that he would have anything more than bruises to show for it. Even more surprising to the boys above was the laugh that Sirius let out as he hit the ground, because to Sirius, the fall had felt about the same as the jump from the swing, weightless and free.
As Sirius pushed himself up from his knees to his feet, still smiling at the experience, he heard a frantic rustling sound from behind him and turned to see Trevor and Jack scrambling down the trunk towards him.
“Are you alright?” Jack demanded, his eyes wide as he jumped the last few feet to the ground, Trevor landing beside him easily.
“Fine,” Sirius replied, still smiling.
“Christ, mate,” Trevor said, his shocked look quickly replaced by a smile stealing over his face. “How come you didn’t break your neck? You got some magic looking after you or summat?”
He began to laugh, Jack joining in, and though Sirius tensed at first, he began to laugh with them, too, after a moment. It was a strange moment, standing in this park in the middle of Muggle London and laughing with these sort of rude, sort of friendly Muggle boys who were now looking at him like they’d never seen anything like him. Part of Sirius knew that it would be transient, but he clung to the dregs of the experience.
After only a moment, however, Trevor stopped laughing, nudging Jack, who instantly sobered, adopting an expression that might be more appropriate at a funeral than in a park. Looking behind him, Sirius spotted several adults approaching quickly, anxiety in their expressions. Still, Sirius was taken aback by the first words out of the mouth of the woman who reached him first.
“Are you hurt, dear?” she asked, her eyes trained on Sirius, rather than Jack or Trevor, who were looking sheepish behind him. She had dark brown hair and a round, friendly face, and the expression upon it showed nothing but kindness and concern. Her eyes seemed to flit over his frame, as if searching for injuries. Sirius shrunk away from the hand she reached out, as if to grasp his shoulder.
“I’m fine,” he replied, the smile melting off his face as he tried to inch away from her warmth, both confused and wary.
“That was quite the fall you took!” she exclaimed, though she didn’t try to touch him again, just examined him from afar. “You should be careful not to climb too high in the future—I always tell Jack that.”
“Come on, mum,” Jack whined, his voice full of embarrassment. “He said he’s fine!”
A man stepped forward behind Jack’s mother. “Where are your parents, son?” the man asked, looking at Sirius in the same concerned manner as the woman. “I’m sure they’d be concerned about the fall you just took, just like Helen and me. Are they around?”
Sirius’ heart began to beat faster, and he swallowed. He knew, without quite knowing how he knew, that telling this man the truth would be a bad idea.
“My mother and father are at the bank,” he replied, the lie forming easily on his tongue. “They told me to wait for them here.”
Helen and her husband exchanged a worried glance. “They left you here alone? Well, I suppose we can just assure them when they come to collect you that you’re alright.”
“There’s no need. I can tell them what happened and that I’m fine,” Sirius said, his hackles rising defensively. He distrusted the concerned looks on the Muggle couple’s faces. He could never imagine his mother showing this level of concern for any child that wasn’t her own. Come to think of it, he couldn’t even bring up any memory of his mother showing this amount of concern for him or Regulus. Sirius wondered briefly if this was some sort of trap that the Muggles were setting for him, as if they knew he wasn’t one of them.
Sirius glanced at the watch which lay on the Muggle woman’s wrist, and read upside down that it was a quarter to three. He'd been away from his house for more than an hour. If he didn’t get back soon, Sirius knew that his absence would be noted.
“I’m going to go and see if my parents are done at the bank,” he declared, knowing even as he said it that his words were abrupt and rude. If he’d have brought that tone out at a dinner party, he knew that his mother would have screamed at him for it. Trevor and Jack both waved after him as he began to back away towards the gate he'd entered through.
“Come around again sometime, Sirius,” Jack yelled after him, as Trevor added: “Oi, posh boy, you gotta teach me to land on my feet like that another time!”
Sirius shot them a smile before turning away, though he doubted that he would ever see either of these Muggle boys again. As he walked towards the gate, Sirius heard the sound of Helen telling Trevor off fade into the background, a note of affectionate exasperation evident in her voice.
Sirius exited the park as fast as he could without running, hoping that neither the Muggle woman called Helen nor her concerned husband would follow him. When Sirius found his way back to the high street he'd walked down before, he looked around, trying to retrace his steps, then headed to the left, hoping that this was the way that he'd come. After only a few minutes, he began to see familiar landmarks and finally turned back onto Grimmauld Place.
Stopping in front of his house, Sirius took a deep breath before beginning to ascend the stairs. He felt as if the oppressive weight that he’d shed when leaving the confines of Number Twelve was being heaped back onto him with every step he took towards the door, in addition to the dread of what would happen if anyone had noticed his absence.
Sirius turned the doorknob as softly as he could, knowing as he did so that it would open for him without a key due to the magic of the house. As it creaked open, he felt a moment of relief in seeing that the corridor beyond was empty, no snarling face waiting for him just inside to catch him in the act of sneaking back in. Closing the door softly behind him, Sirius tiptoed into the hall and was relieved again to find the entrance hall deserted, too.
Sirius mounted the stairs with as much haste as he could without alerting every member of the household of his presence, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the landing on the fourth floor and hurried to open the door of his bedroom. As he dashed inside and closed the door behind him, Sirius let out a great sigh of relief, relaxing for the first time since his return before striding over to his bed and collapsing onto it. He was safe.
Lying on his vast bed, which dwarfed his nine-year-old frame, Sirius’ mind began to process the events of his excursion. It was not only the vastness of London but also the breadth of knowledge he'd gained from his brief trip outside which overwhelmed him. He felt he'd learned more in an hour and a half in Muggle London than in all of his tutoring sessions combined. As it turned out, the whole world had been out there all along, with Sirius being none the wiser to what it offered him that this dark, formal house lacked.
Just then, Sirius heard a creak of floorboards outside his door. He lifted his head, startled, and scrambled to grab a book from his bedside table, opening it hastily and pretending to read. The doorknob turned slowly before the door opened to reveal the eight-year-old form of his brother, Regulus, standing in the doorway and eyeing Sirius suspiciously.
“Where have you been? I looked all over,” Regulus demanded, reproach and accusation evident in his voice. Sirius did not waste a second to hitch a well-practiced casual and unconcerned expression onto his face, giving a bored shrug.
“I dunno. I was downstairs for a bit, reading and stuff.”
“I looked downstairs!” Regulus said accusatorially. Sirius grinned at him.
“You must not have looked properly, then, Reg,” he replied, a teasing note in his voice now. He pushed away a twinge of guilt for lying to his younger brother, as he knew he couldn’t risk telling him the truth. Regulus had a big mouth, and anyway, Sirius wanted to keep this excursion as something of his own.
Regulus let out a huff of annoyance and slumped onto Sirius’ bed next to him. “I’m bored,” he declared, Sirius’ previous whereabouts appearing to leave his mind completely. Internally, Sirius let out a sigh of relief.
....
Despite Sirius’ fear of punishment, he left the house again a couple of days later. He did not return to the same park, but wandered more freely about London, observing a great many things. He was endlessly fascinated by the Muggles’ habits, from their conversations to the places they shopped. He even ventured into some of those stores, sometimes slipping items he fancied into his pockets and always leaving each time a clerk asked where his parents were. Over time, Sirius became skilled at making up excuses to answer these types of prying questions.
After returning home, he perused the large library in the Black house, looking for books that would give him some insight into the inner lives of the Muggles he observed. After skimming some, he only confirmed what he'd predicted all along: none of the tomes held anything other than the same limited view of Muggles that his parents spouted continuously. If Sirius wanted to find out more, he had to find another source of information.
The next time Sirius left the house, he followed signs toward a Muggle library. There, he pulled out books at random from the shelves, devouring their contents greedily. He read stories similar to the ones that his tutors had read to him as a young child, but which contained a different type of magic than he was used to. He perused fairy tales, fantasy, history, and everything else he could reach. He even examined some self-help books curiously, not quite understanding their purpose but fascinated by them all the same. He came back, week after week, during the hours when he knew his parents wouldn’t notice his absence.
Sirius was fascinated with the way that Muggles wrote about witches and wizards. They had varied accounts, from fairy tales where witches had warts on their noses and cast curses, to fantasy novels where magic saved the hero from death. Clearly, magic was not all demonic in Muggles’ eyes anymore, not like his parents had said.
Though Sirius wouldn’t know the first thing about getting a library card, he got up the courage after months of visiting the library to “borrow” some books by hiding them under his shirt and spiriting them back to his house, where he concealed them under his mattress until he was finished with them. Most, but not all of them, he returned afterward. He relished the freedom it gave him, meaning that he could devour some of these books in his bored hours in the house on Grimmauld Place while using more of his stolen hours outside to explore rather than sit between the shelves and dodge questions from the nosy librarians, who had begun to recognize him. He wasn’t sure whether they were just suspicious that he was stealing books or if they held genuine concern for a child who always came in alone, but either way, it made him uncomfortable.
Despite the convenience of taking library books home, however, there was another element of risk to be considered in this arrangement, and that was the evidence of all his secret excursions over the years, neatly hidden beneath his mattress. As the months stretched into years and Sirius continued to sneak out of the house whenever he could, he began to get more confident, but the fear remained. After all the years of lies and excursions, he knew that if he was discovered now, the punishment would be monumental. As much as Sirius hated to admit it, he still dreaded his parents’ wrath, almost as much as he dreaded having the one part of his life he had control over taken away from him.
One night in the summer before Sirius was set to start Hogwarts, when his family was having his cousins over for dinner, the possibility of being caught almost became a reality. At a quarter to seven, Sirius sat in his bedroom, reading one of his forbidden library books with absorption, so much so that he'd failed to notice the sounds of people arriving downstairs. Sirius didn’t even hear the sound of the footsteps outside his door on the landing, only looking up as he heard a sharp knock on his door. He froze, looking up towards the entrance, the book still clutched in his hands.
After a moment, where Sirius’ terrified brain scrambled to make his hands move, the door opened to reveal his second-oldest cousin, Andromeda, standing in the doorway and peering in at him. Six years older than he, Andromeda would be starting her seventh year of Hogwarts as he began his first in the fall. She had long, light brown hair, wide grey eyes like Sirius’ own, and despite her well-bred and proper manner, exuded an air of kindness that neither her older nor younger sister had ever managed.
Sirius hastily shoved his book under the covers of his bed, but not quickly or casually enough for it to not look suspicious. Andromeda raised her eyebrows, giving him a wry smile.
“Your mum asked me to bring you down for supper,” she said. Her eyes drifted to the patch of covers that hid the book, and, after giving a quick glance back to the landing, she edged in through the doorway and shut it behind her. “What have you got there?” she asked, gesturing towards the lump on the bed.
Sirius gulped, his brain, though well-practiced at fibbing, suddenly drawing a blank. “Nothing,” he blurted out, and Andromeda gave him an amused look in response, almost as if she was asking him to try again.
He fumbled over a better excuse, but she only strode towards him, ignoring his words, and extended her hand for the book wordlessly. Sirius’ blood ran cold, but he dug around under his covers and placed it in her waiting hand nevertheless, hanging his head in defeat. He wondered what she would do—if she would tell his mother. If she did, would he even be allowed to attend Hogwarts in September, or would he be locked in this house for the rest of his life?
There was a moment of silence, where he didn’t dare look at her, then she spoke. “The Chronicles of Narnia were my favorite when I was your age, too,” she said. Sirius’ head jerked up at her words, staring at her in abject disbelief. Her eyes were twinkling, and she was giving him a soft smile. Sirius could only gape at her for a moment before finding his voice.
“You were allowed to read Muggle books when you were my age?” he demanded in a stage whisper. Andromeda shot him a mischievous half-smile and a wink.
“Of course not. And I gather you aren’t, either?”
Sirius shook his head, dumbfounded. Andromeda gave him a reassuring but slightly reprimanding look.
“You should be careful when you read those and hide them well,” she said, handing the book back to him. He tucked it under his mattress for safekeeping, and Andromeda watched him do it before offering him her hand. “Come on, let’s go downstairs before we both get in trouble with your mum.”
Sirius took her hand, still shocked by the exchange. “Thanks, Andromeda,” he said. Andromeda glanced back at him as she opened the door and waved him out onto the landing ahead of her.
“Anytime, Sirius,” she replied and gave him another small, mischievous smile. “And you can call me Andy if you want.”
Sirius nodded, still shocked by the exchange, and began to descend the staircase. he'd never been close with any of his cousins due to their age difference, and the fact that none of the children were allowed to speak much during family gatherings. Still, this interaction with Andromeda alone made him wish desperately that he could talk to her for longer. It had never occurred to him that any member of his family had ever defied the strict rules set to them before him, which had only added to his deep sense of isolation from the rest of his relatives. Now that he knew Andromeda had bent these rules, too, he felt a strong urge to tell her about his adventures and what he'd learned about the world outside Grimmauld Place. Perhaps she even knew more than he did. Unfortunately, he had no opportunity to speak to her that evening, or at any other point that summer.
Sirius’ secret excursions felt like another life he lived, unknown to any member of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Still, the more time he spent in Muggle London, the greater his discontent became with his lot, and the more trapped he felt when inside the confines of his home. By the end of the summer and with the looming prospect of escaping to attend Hogwarts at last, Sirius was exploding with rage against his family. He was tired of biting his tongue at every family dinner and in every conversation with his parents.
He'd learned by then, by observation and by reading, that not every family was like his. He'd seen parents in parks watch their children with concern and love in their eyes, and run after them to care for them as they fell down or scraped their skin on the dirt. He escaped into stories of children who grew up in families that tucked them into bed every night, and didn’t meet minor missteps with beatings and screaming.
Sirius didn’t know how to communicate any of what he'd learned with Regulus; he had no idea how he would even begin. Sirius was terrified that if he shared any of his adventures with Regulus that his brother would go to his parents, or, even worse, that he might begin to repeat what Sirius said and be punished for it. Sirius knew that Regulus hero-worshiped him and had always had a habit of following Sirius around, copying him in both word and action. Sirius had never minded this before, as he loved his brother, and the two lonely boys found much-needed company in each other in the face of their parents’ indifference and outright cruelty, but this was different. Sirius was taking the risk of sneaking out of the house and reading all these forbidden books on his own, and he would make sure that Regulus couldn’t be harmed by it.
In addition, Regulus had never learned the same kind of caution Sirius had growing up, and in the past, Sirius had often claimed responsibility for Regulus’ blunders, taking the punishments himself to spare his younger sibling from them. Sirius wondered sadly sometimes whether it might be a kindness for Regulus to be in the dark about the misery of their lives compared to those of most other children. It was not as if either brother could change the circumstance of their lives, and so perhaps it was better for Regulus to be kept in the dark. Therefore, Sirius resolved to keep his rage inside and bite his tongue, even when it took all of his effort to do so.
In later years, Sirius would regret his silence as much as he regretted the shield he'd become between his parents and his younger brother. He couldn’t help but wonder whether, if he'd spoken his mind earlier, or let his brother learn the cruelty of his parents himself instead of shielding him, things would have turned out differently for the two boys. He would never know.
Once Sirius received his letter from Hogwarts with his school list, Walburga consented to oversee his trip to Diagon Alley to get his school things, which she did mostly without comment, either positive or negative. Sirius, though extremely excited, knew that he couldn’t show it in his mother’s presence, so he bottled his feelings inside as they went about collecting his school supplies.
It was difficult, however, to keep his delight hidden when his mother bought him a handsome barn owl, commenting: “This is the only acceptable pet for someone of your station.” Sirius tried hard to fight the enthusiasm in his voice as he thanked her.
The trip to Ollivanders, however, was Sirius’ favorite by far. After trying out several wands, he knew the one that was right as soon as he picked it up, as a feeling of pure electricity ran down his arm into his entire body, making him pulse with power. Sirius couldn’t contain his grin this time as the wandmaker clapped his old hands together and declared it the perfect match, ignoring his mother’s presence in the background. For a fleeting moment, he imagined turning on her with it and transfiguring her into a toad, helpless and croaking before he trapped her in a glass jar and told her: How do you like it? He relinquished the vision quickly, however, allowing his mother to pay for the wand and hurry him out of the shop.
....
Sirius’ parents said goodbye to him on the morning of September 1st, 1971 with a curt reminder to “remember his station while he was at Hogwarts,” letting Kreacher apparate him to a secluded spot outside of King's Cross Station. As the house-elf disapparated again, leaving Sirius to find his own way to the platform, Sirius felt the freest he'd ever felt in his life. He remembered what his father had told him about platform nine and three-quarters, quickly finding the barrier between platforms nine and ten and striding through it with his trolly after looking to see if any Muggles were watching. As he appeared on the platform, his elation grew.
The place was packed with students, who were running around greeting friends, putting their things onto the train, and allowing their parents to give them tearful goodbyes and last reminders. It was loud and thrumming with warm energy, the kind of environment Sirius knew he would thrive in, unlike the cold silence of Grimmauld Place. A wide smile split his face as he realized that he wouldn’t have to see his parents, or be in that house, for three whole months.
Sirius heaved his trunk onto the train and leapt up after it, dragging it into the luggage compartment. Once he'd deposited his luggage, he walked down the corridor of the train, trying to resist the urge to skip, and slid open the door of the first compartment he spotted, which was empty. He settled down in a middle seat and glanced out towards the platform, surveying the scene with glee. A feeling of possibility spread through his body, and he grinned.
When the whistle on the train blew, the platform began to empty rapidly as the other students clambered into the train, not wanting to be left behind. After a few minutes, the compartment door slid open, and Sirius turned his head to see another boy who appeared to be his own age at the threshold. He had warm brown skin, very messy black hair, and hazel eyes behind round-rimmed glasses.
“Alright if I join you?” asked the boy, a friendly smile spreading across his face. Sirius grinned back.
“Of course!” he exclaimed, then hoped he hadn’t come off too strong.
The messy-haired boy threw himself into the seat across from Sirius, surveying him curiously before introducing himself and engaging him in conversation. Another whistle sounded, and the train lurched into motion, gaining speed as it moved out of the station, leaving London behind.
Sirius gazed out of the window as the train sped quickly into the countryside. He looked out past the expanse of green fields towards the horizon, bright with the midday sun. Never before, Sirius thought, had anything looked so hopeful and promising in his life. Whatever adventures were in his future, he felt sure they would be even greater than any he'd had thus far.