Born to Run

December 24th, 1971

The King’s Cross Station was drowned in chaos as students and their families hurried to and fro, laden with trunks and pets in cages. The Hogwarts Express gleamed in the background, its whistle blowing a final call as it prepared to depart. The boys stood together at Platform 9 ¾.

“Can you believe it’s already Christmas?” said James. “Feels like we just got here.”

“Time flies when you’re constantly into trouble,” said Remus.

“Oh, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad,” said James.

“You and Sirius got a detention four times—”

“Three.”

“One, for sending a howler to Mulciber, pretending to be his mother—”

“He would’ve gotten one, at some point.”

“—two, for putting itching powder on Slytherins’ flying gear, right before their match.”

James shrugged. “Well, they’d still play like shit.”

“Three,” Remus stressed the word, “for enchanting the chalk in Professor Flitwick’s class to fly around and write bollocks on the blackboard whenever he tried to use it.”

“Hey, that was your idea!”

“Well, yes, but you executed it,” said Remus.

James crossed his arms. “And the fourth?”

“You broke into the greenhouse and slaughtered Madam Sprout’s asphodels, then enchanted them to sing ‘Build Me Up Buttercup’ every time Lily came close to them.”

James scratched the back of his neck. “Oh… right,” he said. “Well, how was I supposed to know that asphodels are associated with death?”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, James, that is exactly why she punched you in the face.”

“I know, right! Next time, it’ll be roses.”

Remus released a defeated sigh.

“You forgot when they placed a sticking charm on the Slytherin table,” said Peter.

“Right, this one too. Thanks, Pete,” said Remus.

“Oi! Whose side are you on?” James asked, throwing his hands in the air with exasperation.

“Five detentions,” said Remus.

A mischievous grin spread across James’ face. “I say we make it a hundred.”

Remus rolled his eyes. His gaze shifted to Sirius who hadn’t said a word from the moment they reached the platform. He stood a little apart from the group, his shoulders hunched and his eyes staring vacantly ahead.

“You all right?” Remus asked.

Sirius blinked as if coming out of a trance and forced a smile. “Yeah, fine. Just thinking about the holidays.”

“C’mon on, Sirius, it’s Christmas!” James said. “What’s got you so glum?”

Sirius shrugged off James’ hand and looked away. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”

“You sure?”

Sirius nodded curtly. He didn’t want to ruin his friends’ excitement with his own dread of returning to Grimmauld Place. The thought of his mother’s icy disapproval, the dark, oppressive atmosphere of his family home, made his stomach twist with anxiety.

Peter as if sensing Sirius’ reluctance to talk, changed the subject. “I can’t wait to eat Mum’s cooking again. She always makes the best mince pies.”

“Wait till you taste mine,” a female voice interrupted them. They all turned around to see a beautiful woman with long, dark hair. She was wearing a sapphire blue coat with gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs, woollen trousers, and leather boots.

“Mum!” James exclaimed and ran to her side, throwing his arms around her.

Euphemia stumbled back and hugged him tightly. “Hello, love. How was your journey?”

“An agonising experience.”

She chuckled. “Of course it was.”

James let go of her and gestured towards the others. “Mum, these are my friends, Sirius, Remus and Peter.”

Euphemia smiled and approached them. “Hello, boys. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you all.”

“Hello, Mrs Potter,” said Remus politely.

Peter offered a shy smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Potter.”

Sirius managed a nod, his usual charm absent. “Pleasure.”

Euphemia didn’t miss his tone. She glanced at her son, who shook his head slightly, silently pleading with her not to pry.

“Well, James has told me everything about you three,” she said. “You’re all welcome to come home for dinner if you’d like.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs Potter, but we have to go,” said Peter. “Actually, I think I can see my mum over there. Remus, we should get going.”

“You’ll be staying with Peter for the holidays?” James asked.

Remus shook his head. “No, but my parents couldn’t pick me up, so I’ll floo from Peter’s house to mine.”

“Okay, we’ll meet in two weeks,” said James.

Remus grabbed his trunk and gave a small wave. “See you after the holidays, guys.”

“Have a good Christmas!” Peter exclaimed and they both walked away, their figures soon lost in the crowded station.

James turned to Sirius. “Will your parents pick you up?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t really spoken the past few months.”

“I’m sure they’ll show up. We’ll wait with you. Right, Mum?”

“No, it’s okay, you really don’t have to—”

“Of course, love,” said Euphemia. “We’d be happy to.” She glanced around. “James, can you go to inform your father we’ll be staying with Sirius for a while? He’s waiting in the car.”

“Yeah, sure,” said James. He made his way through the station. Once he disappeared, Euphemia carefully approached Sirius.

“You don’t seem very excited about the holidays,” she said.

“I’m not much of a holiday person,” said Sirius.

“That’s a shame. James has always been a Christmas enthusiast. Don’t let him know I told you, but when he was little, he used to plead with his father to dress up as Santa Claus for days.”

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

Euphemia’s eyes lingered on him for a moment. “Professor McGonagall has also informed me about your achievements during the semester.”

“Well, I suppose you’re not referring to our academic achievements, right?”

Euphemia laughed. “No, of course not. I must say, I was impressed.”

Sirius frowned. “You’re not angry?”

“Oh darling, trust me, I was not thrilled about that many detentions only in your first semester. Though, I must say, you’ve both been very creative with your pranks. And the showcase of your abilities in charms?” She made a chef’s kiss gesture. “Top-notch.”

“You must know, it was mostly Remus’ ideas. He deserves the credit. James and I only performed the spells, though it was mostly James. He’s very good at Charms.”

“Yes, I’m aware of Remus’ brilliance. And I can see that Peter is timid and more introverted than the rest of you. It’s really kind of you that you take care of him.”

“Again, that is James. He introduced Peter to us.”

Euphemia leaned a little closer to him. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for anything, do you?”

Sirius turned his head, avoiding her eyes. “I don’t have anything to boast about.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she said. “I’ve heard you’re quite a charmer yourself.”

Sirius didn’t reply.

Euphemia placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “Sirius, you’re always welcome to spend the holidays with us if you’d prefer. I could talk to your mother.”

He abruptly moved away from her touch. “No, no, it’s fine. Really. They wouldn’t let me anyway. But thank you, Mrs Potter.”

“All right then. But don’t be shy if you change your mind.”

Sirius nodded. James suddenly appeared, rushing to their side.

“Dad says to take as long as we need,” he said.

Sirius stood up, about to protest. “You really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense. We won’t leave you here alone,” said Euphemia.

Sirius sighed.

Minutes turned into an hour as they waited, the platform gradually emptying as families departed. Sirius shifted from foot to foot, his anxiety rising with each moment passing. He didn’t like being an inconvenience to the Potters. James tried to keep his friend distracted but it was clear that Sirius was barely listening.

“Maybe they got held up,” said James, though he didn’t really believe it himself.

Euphemia exchanged a look with her son, understanding passing silently between them. She stepped forward and put a comforting hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Sirius, why don’t you come home with us? We can drop you off at your house later. Or you can floo from there, if you’d prefer.”

 “I don’t want to impose—”

 “It’s no imposition at all! We’d love to have you. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve. No one should be alone.”

Sirius looked at James, who nodded encouragingly.

“Come on, Sirius. Mum’s mince pies are legendary,” James said with a grin. “You’ll love them.”

With a reluctant smile, Sirius agreed. “All right. Thanks.”

They gathered their things and walked through the nearly empty station. They emerged on the other side of the barrier and Euphemia led the way to the family’s car. It was sleek and black, charmed to expand inside so that at least eight people could fit in the backseats. Fleamont stepped out to help them load their trunks.

“Hello, there!” Fleamont said warmly, extending his hand to his son’s friend. “You must be Sirius.”

Sirius awkwardly took his hand. “I am. Nice to meet you, Mr Potter.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” said Fleamont charmingly. “We have a lot to discuss,” he added with a playful look and Sirius forced a hesitant smile.

The drive through the West Country of England was quiet. Sirius kept staring out the window, lost in his thoughts. James tried to keep the conversation light but there was a tension he couldn’t shake, so he eventually stopped trying. After almost an hour, they finally reached Godric’s Hollow. Fleamont turned a corner and parked the car on a narrow street.

Potters’ household was a warm, inviting mansion near the main square of Godric's Hollow. Citrus trees were planted around the mansion, and Sirius could see many roses escaping the garden fence though now they were mostly covered with snow. He could imagine Euphemia tending to her plans in the spring, James beside her helping her.

They got out of the car. Sirius offered to help with their luggage but Fleamont insisted it was no trouble. He levitated their suitcases with his wand, and they flew straight to their front porch. Euphemia ascended the marble stairs and opened the front door.

The place had been decorated beautifully for Christmas. A massive tree stood in the living room with twinkling lights that moved on their own, jumping from one branch to another, red and gold garlands, and an angel on the top, spinning around and singing Christmas carols. Sirius felt a pang of longing. This was what a home should feel like—welcoming, bright, and filled with the laughter of people who loved each other.

The smell of cinnamon and baking filled the air. Euphemia led them to the dining room where a feast was laid out as promised. A little female elf was standing near the table, wearing an apron with festive designs. She welcomed the family with a huge smile.

“Mrs Potter, Mr Potter, I’ve prepared the table as you requested.” She turned her head towards James. “Hello, Mr Potter. Miriel is happy to see you again.”

James hugged her tightly and moved to his seat at the table. Sirius nodded towards the elf’s direction, acknowledging her presence, and moved to sit right next to James.

“Thank you, Miriel,” said Euphemia. “Really. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“No, not at all Mrs Potter. Besides, you had already prepared most of the dishes.”

Euphemia clapped her hands. “Excellent! Come along then! Please, sit with us.”

“You allow your house-elf to eat with you?” Sirius whispered into James’ ear.

“Miriel is like family,” James said. “She’s been living with us long before I was born.”

“Dig in, boys!” Euphemia said. “There’s plenty for everyone.”

They all sat at the table, and James instantly started loading his plate. Sirius was more reluctant at first but even he couldn’t resist the delicious food. James started talking about their first semester, telling his parents everything about the castle and the professors in extreme detail, and they didn’t interrupt him even though both had spent their school years at Hogwarts and already knew everything by heart. Sirius had to subtly kick James under the table several times whenever he was about to reveal some rather incriminating parts about their pranks.

“Okay, I’m sorry I have to do this but since we are all here, James I think we should talk about something,” Euphemia said after a while, letting her fork rest on her plate. James glanced over at his father who only shrugged with an amused smirk.

“Here we go,” James whispered.

Euphemia cleared her throat. “There have been some… problems due to your behaviour during this term.”

“Problems?” James asked.

“Yes, darling, problems. You and Sirius have been involved in far too many pranks. Do you realise how many letters Professor McGonagall has sent me?”

James exchanged a quick glance with Sirius.

“Five, James. Five letters,” his mother went on. “And that’s just in your first semester.”

“Effie, darling, it wasn’t that serious, really.”

Euphemia shot him a pointed look. “That’s not the point here, Monty.” She turned to her son. “James, you need to understand that there are consequences to your actions. Pranking Professor Flitwick by placing charms on his equipment to write bollocks? Really?”

Fleamont and James covered their mouths with their hands. Sirius couldn’t help it either. He snorted at the memory. Euphemia sighed and Miriel looked at her sympathetically.

“And let’s not forget the time you enchanted those poor asphodels—”

“Please, let’s do,” James muttered.

“—to recite The Foundations. Who would have thought we’ve been raising the offspring of Casanova?”

Fleamont was about to swallow a large bite of roast turkey and choked on his food as he tried to suppress his laughter. Sirius and James glanced at each other and were merely losing it. Euphemia didn’t take her eyes off them as she firmly kept patting her husband’s back.

“Seriously James, out of all the songs out there, you chose one of the cheesiest to hit on a girl. Poor girl. Haven’t I taught you anything? Don’t we have far too many records of Louis Armstrong in this house?”

Sirius choked on his drink mid-sip and sprayed water everywhere. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice shaking. Fleamont winked at James and mouthed something like good job, son.

Euphemia sighed. “The point is, James, that while we understand you want to have fun, there are limits. You must learn to respect your professors and your peers.”

“Yes, Mum, I understand,” said James.

“Good. Monty, dear, have you got anything to add yourself?”

Fleamont, with his mouth stuffed with mashed potatoes, slowly met his wife’s firm expression. “Yes, I do.” He pointed his fork at his son. “Bad James.”

James couldn’t help it. He had been holding himself for far too long. He erupted in laughter and soon the others followed. Euphemia took her head in her hands, slowly accepting defeat.

“It’s all right, love,” said Fleamont. “I suppose it’s in the blood. I remember pulling a fair few pranks myself during my time at Hogwarts.”

“Yes well, perhaps that’s where he gets it from,” said Euphemia.

“See, Mum? It’s practically a family tradition. I bet my children will also be the greatest pranksters.”

“I believe you’re getting ahead of yourself, now,” said Euphemia.

“And Sirius will be the godfather!” James glanced at Sirius. “Right? So, our tradition will pass to his family as well!”

“Should I inform Evans that you are expecting?” Sirius teased.

“You two, leave the poor girl alone,” said Euphemia. “Just promise me you’ll try to be more considerate next time.”

The boys exchanged a quick glance. “We promise,” they said.

“At least try not to get caught,” said Fleamont.

Euphemia sighed again but there was a warmth in her eyes as she looked at the boys. “All right, then. Who wants dessert?”

Sirius had never felt as light and carefree as he did at that moment. All his fear seemed to melt away in the warmth of Godrick’s Hollow. He leaned back in his chair with a smile as a profound sense of peace settled over him. The love and acceptance that surrounded him were like a soothing balm, healing wounds he hadn’t even realised were open in the first place. Fleamont’s deep, reassuring voice, James’ laughter, and Euphemia’s loving smiles made Sirius realise something. This is what family feels like.

But eventually, as the time to leave grew closer, the dread returned, settling in the pit of his stomach like a lead weight. He knew he had to return to the place he hated the most. The thought was unbearable. One thing kept him going, giving him the strength to go back. Regulus. Only his little brother could make him return to Grimmauld. He loved him more than anything in this world.

When the time finally came to say goodbye, Sirius felt a lump in his throat.

“I’m so happy I finally got the chance to meet you in person,” said Euphemia. She opened her arms, patiently waiting to see if Sirius would step forward into her embrace. He did.

“Thank you for everything, Mrs Potter,” Sirius said.

Fleamont stepped forward and patted his head, messing his sleek black hair. “We three need to hit the field sometime soon. Show me all about the moves of the French team.”

Sirius nodded. He slowly approached James, not wanting to say goodbye yet. James threw his arms around him. “It’s only two weeks. Think you’ll manage without me?”

“Please, you better worry about how you’ll stay in one piece till I see you again.”

“I’ve been managing just fine the past few years, Black,” said James. 

 “All right, fine. I’ll see you in two weeks, then.”

He walked towards the front of the room. Euphemia followed, her hand holding his shoulder protectively. The fireplace was now cold and ashen. With a delicate flick of her fingers, the flames danced back to life.

“Here,” she said. She held a small silver box with Floo powder.

Sirius took a handful and threw it to the fireplace. A few seconds later, the flames turned a bright green shade. He glanced at the family with a last lingering look.

“Thank you, again, for your hospitality,” he said. “And for your incredible mince pies, Mrs Potter,” he added with a small smile.

Euphemia smiled. “You’re welcome to stop by anytime and have as many as you like.”

Sirius nodded. “Happy Christmas.”

He didn’t wait to hear their replies. He quickly stepped into the fireplace, feeling an invisible hand clenching at his heart, suffocating him.

“At Grimmauld Place, 12,” he muttered.

And then, in a whirlwind of green flames, he was gone.

Sirius emerged from the fireplace of his house. He brushed some soot from his clothes before stepping into the living room. Heavy, velvet curtains of the deepest green were drawn tightly over the tall windows, allowing no hint of light to penetrate the large shadowy space. He glanced around the room, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, and stilled the moment he realised he was not alone.

Walburga Black was sitting on the sofa before him, her slender figure partially obscured by the heavy shadows. Her eyes met his. Sirius felt his throat go dry but tried to keep his posture straight. Walburga took a crystal glass filled with firewhiskey from the small wooden table, sipping as she examined him with indifference.

“Hello, Mother,” Sirius said, his voice carefully flat.

“Sirius,” she acknowledged curtly. “I see you finally remembered the address.”

“Yes, Mother.” He tried to straighten his back even more. “It’s good to be home.”

Walburga set down the glass. “Is it, now? Then what took you so long?” She slowly raised her gaze to him. “You should have been here hours ago.”

“I got held up at the platform,” Sirius said.

There was a certain cold menace to her look as she slowly approached him. Sirius fought back the urge to flinch.

“Are you lying to me?”

“No, Mother.”

“Look at me, Sirius.”

He did. Instantly, he knew what was coming. His mother had a way of prying into his thoughts, searching his mind for any hint of deceit or betrayal.

“Tell me where you have been. I won’t ask you again.”

“Mother, please,” Sirius began. Walburga’s eyes narrowed and she raised her wand.

“Legilimens!”

Sirius felt the invasive pressure of her mind pushing into his own. Instantly, memories began to surface against his will; Euphemia Potter gently kissing him on the forehead, Fleamont and James laughing by the fireplace, all sharing dinner at the Christmas table. Walburga dug deeper. She saw James’ grinning face as he was teasing Sirius in the Gryffindor common room. She saw Remus helping Sirius at Potions class, and Peter tripping on the stairs, as the others laughed. Sirius could feel his mother’s rage hammering through his skull. She probed even deeper, forcing him to relive moments he cherished—James showing him how to throw a quaffle, Remus shoving him playfully and them sharing secret smiles at the Great Hall, Peter sneaking snacks from the kitchens. Each memory felt like a knife, twisted painfully as Walburga’s fury grew more intense.

She finally withdrew from his consciousness.

“I have seen enough,” she hissed.

Sirius stood frozen, his chest heaving with uneven breaths.

“You brought shame upon our family with your pathetic attachments. Blood traitors and half-breeds,” she spat. “You are a fool, Sirius. You repulse me.”

Sirius said nothing. He knew better than that. Walburga approached the wooden table, reaching for a white envelope, and held it up.

“I know all about your liaisons. And now I have seen their faces,” she said, her threat silently hanging in the air.

Sirius’ eyes widened. “You’ve been reading my letters? That’s why Regulus wouldn’t reply?”

Walburga circled him like he was prey. “Of course I have. I will not let you poison your brother’s mind.” She paused and cast him a short glance as if she couldn’t bear the sight of him. “Imagine my astonishment when I was informed you were sorted in Gryffindor. Never has the noble house of our family been defiled in such a disgraceful way!”

“It wasn’t my fault. The Sorting Hat—”    

His mother slapped him hard across his face, the sharp sound echoing through the room. Sirius glared at her, the sting barely overpowering his burning anger.

“It was not my choice—”

She struck him again. And again. And again.

“You dare talk back to me?”

Sirius slowly met his mother’s face. “I didn’t choose to be sorted in Gryffindor,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Silence!” Her hand latched onto his already battered cheek, nails digging into his skin with a cruel ferocity. “You will learn to behave. You will end these attachments or face consequences far worse than this.”

Sirius lifted his chin to face her. “And what if I don’t?”

Before he had time to react Walburga raised her wand, pointing at his heart.

“Dolor”

Agony enveloped his soul unlike anything he’d ever felt, followed by waves of sorrow and despair that drowned his spirit. Memories of happiness and hope were snatched away, replaced with an overwhelming sense of grief and loss. He tried to fight it, to hold onto his defiance but the pain and sorrow were too much, breaking down his defences until he felt hollow, trapped in a suffocating darkness with no end in sight. He suddenly felt like he was utterly alone in this world. The thought sent a violent tremor through him. Tears started streaming down his face against his own will, his whole body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. The merciless sneer of his mother was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“You will learn to obey,” Walburga repeated, “Now, get out of my sight.”

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek, helplessly trying to stop his body from shivering until he felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He sharply turned around and walked away, leaving his mother in the shadows of the drawing room. He ran up the stairs, stormed to his room, and collapsed on his bed.

He should have expected that. There wasn’t anything he could hide in this house.

His mother was masterful in Legilimancy, the art of ‘mind-reading’. But the spell allowed so much more than just ‘reading’ someone’s thoughts. The mind has layers, depths. It’s like a ladder, and the more one descends the more secrets can be found hidden beneath one’s consciousness. A person who could perform Legilimancy, a Legilimens like Walburga herself, would invade someone’s consciousness, searching thoroughly and forcing them to relieve their memories. The caster would be a watcher into the other’s mind, unable to interact but still present, prying over the other’s thoughts. It took great skill and practice to master the spell but Walburga had perfected it over the years.

Nothing stayed hidden in this house.

The door startled him. Sirius tensed, half expecting his mother to storm in for a second round, but instead, a smaller figure slipped into the room. Sirius’ eyes softened at the sight of his little brother.                  

Regulus was almost two years younger than him and they both shared a striking resemblance. His skin was fair, contrasting sharply with the dark hair that fell in soft waves around his face. But unlike his brother’s vibrant blue eyes, Regulus’ were large and stormy grey. And while Sirius was all sharp angles and held an unapproachable beauty, Regulus had a graceful, almost ethereal appearance. He was the delicate bloom, sheltered and pure, and his brother the thorns, fierce and unyielding, protecting them both against their harsh world.

For Sirius, his little brother had always been the only beacon of light in this house.

“Sirius?” Regulus’ voice was a whisper, barely more than a breath.

Sirius pushed himself up on his elbows and managed a faint smile. “Hi, Reggie.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, little bro,” Sirius said, forcing another smile. “There’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“I heard what happened with Mother,” Regulus said. He approached and climbed onto the bed beside his older brother.

Sirius leaned back against the headboard. “You know how she is when she’s in a bad mood. It’ll pass.”

“You shouldn’t have provoked her. She hurt you.”

“It’s not the first time. And it won’t be the last. I can handle it.”

“I wish you weren’t in Gryffindor,” said Regulus.

Sirius blinked, taken aback by the statement. “Why?”

“Because if you were in Slytherin like you’re supposed to, Mother would be pleased. She wouldn’t hurt you.”

Sirius sighed and reached out to ruffle Regulus’ hair. “Don’t worry about that, Reg. Can I tell you a secret? She’s not as strong as she thinks she is,” Sirius whispered. “Besides I like being a Gryffindor. It feels… it feels like home.”

“But this is home,” said Regulus. He looked around the room that had been theirs to share when they were younger before Sirius had been deemed old enough to have his own space. “You’re home now.”

Sirius shook his head. “No, Reg. This house—it’s no home. Hogwarts is different. The people there don’t care about blood purity or being a proper Black.”

Regulus frowned. “It’s an honour to be born in our family. Our name is important.”

Sirius sighed, lying back down on the bed, and pulling his brother with him so they were both side by side. They stared up at the ceiling enchanted to display the night constellations like they used to do when they were younger.

“It’s not as important as you think it is, Reg,” said Sirius quietly. “What truly matters is who you want to be.”

“I don’t want to be a Gryffindor, that would make Mother furious,” Regulus said. He glanced at his older brother. “But what if I wanted to be like you?”

Sirius turned his head with an affectionate smile. “You can be whoever you want to, Gryffindor or not.” He reached out and took Regulus’ small hand in his own. “But just so you know, you don’t have to turn out like me for me to love you. You’ll always be my little brother, no matter what.”

Regulus squeezed Sirius’ hand. “Don’t leave,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to go back. I want you to stay here with me.”

“I know, Reggie,” said Sirius. “But I have to. And I’ll always come back for you, I promise.”

Regulus stared back at the starry ceiling. “You promised you’d write to me,” he said. “You completely forgot about it.”

Sirius sighed and his eyes fell on the constellations on the ceiling. He could see his whole family across the night sky. For once, they looked united as they shone brightly through the darkness. 

“I did write to you,” he said. “Every single week since the moment I got there. But…”

“Mother,” said Regulus.

“Yeah.” Sirius looked at his brother, now grinning. “Guess we have to find some other way to speak with each other. That stupid owl was not that reliable anyway. How does that sound?”

“Okay. Will you tell me later about your first semester?”

Sirius smiled genuinely. “I’ll tell you everything.”

* * * * *

A firm knock sounded at the door. Kreacher, the family’s house-elf, stood on the other side. When no response came, Kreacher frowned, his large ears twitching with frustration. He waited a few moments longer, then knocked again, slightly louder this time, but nothing stirred from within the room. With an almost inaudible sigh, Kreacher grasped the brass doorknob with his gnarled fingers and slipped inside.

He hesitated by the doorway, his gaze moving over the room. The two brothers were asleep on the bed curled under the same blanket, Regulus’ small form tucked close to Sirius. Kreacher shuffled closer, his feet making no sound on the thick carpet. He stood beside the bed and cleared his throat just loud enough to break the silence. Sirius stirred first, muttering something before shifting. Regulus awoke more fully, his eyes fluttering open as he blinked in confusion at the house elf.

“Kreacher?”

Kreacher bowed low, his nose nearly touching the floor. “Master Regulus, Master Sirius. Mistress requests your presence in the drawing room. It is time to prepare for the Christmas Eve gathering.”

Sirius groaned, rolling over and pulling the blanket over his head, clearly not eager to face the rest of his family. It was bad enough being in this house with his parents. The last thing he’d wish for would be for more Blacks to stop by.

Regulus glanced at his brother before turning to Kreacher. “Already?”

“Yes, Master Regulus,” said Kreacher. “Mistress insists you are both properly dressed and on time. Your guests will be arriving at any moment.”

Sirius finally threw off the blanket and sat up, rubbing his forehead. “Tell her we’ll be down soon,” he said sharply.

Kreacher bowed again. “As you wish, Master Sirius. Kreacher will inform the Mistress.” His eyes lingered on Regulus for a few seconds, a flicker of something almost protective in his gaze before he turned and left the room as quietly as he had entered.

Regulus’ stare stayed on the door for several moments, then he looked back at Sirius, who was now staring blankly at the starry ceiling.

“It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?” said Sirius flatly.

Regulus didn’t respond.

The boys started getting ready, changing their clothes and dressing in suits, made of high-quality fabric in dark green. They had a classic cut, with silver fastenings and subtle embroidery along the edges. High-collared dress shirts in ivory, and cloaks made of fine satin, black on the outside like the midnight sky, and deep, shimmering silver on the inside, completed their appearance. Finally, they put on their polished black dress shoes. Regulus wore the Black family signet ring with a sense of pride. Sirius approached the mirror reluctantly, fumbling with his cufflinks that bore the family crest. He grimaced at his reflection in the mirror.

“I hate this,” he muttered.

Regulus shot him a sidelong glance. “It’s just one night,” he said. He adjusted his sleeves for the third time and smoothed out a wrinkle in his robes. “Try to get through it without causing any trouble.”

“Trouble seems to find me no matter what I do,” said Sirius. “Besides, I don’t intend to stay there any longer than necessary.”

Before Regulus could respond, there was a sharp knock on the door, and Kreacher appeared once again. “Masters, your guests have begun to arrive. Mistress requests your presence in the drawing room.”

“Brilliant,” Sirius muttered. He turned towards the door, gesturing for Regulus to follow.

They made their way down the grand staircase. Reaching the bottom step, the front door opening signalled the arrival of more guests. The place had already begun filling with the familiar faces of the Black family and their close associates. Tall, imposing figures dressed in rich, dark robes and elegant dresses stood in the drawing room. The whole place had a gothic elegance; the heavy curtains were drawn back, allowing the dull winter light to filter in and reflect off the ornate decorations. But despite the rich details and the flowing candles, the atmosphere was impersonal and uninviting.

Sirius and Regulus stepped into the room, feeling their relatives’ cool, assessing eyes on them. A grand chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its many crystal facets polished to perfection. Sirius could imagine Kreacher spending all day running errands to form the place to their mother’s demands. Not that he cared about whether the elf was mistreated. Kreacher was unpleasant and a grumbler, and Sirius couldn’t care less if his mother drove him to exhaustion.

He glanced at the far left. Walburga stood near the fireplace; her sharp features softened only slightly by the warm glow of the flames. She wore a deep burgundy gown and diamond jewellery. Sirius knew his mother was a beautiful woman and he knew she was aware of it; showing off her wealth and status on every occasion. Unfortunately, her beautiful face was always shadowed by her stern expression. Next to her was standing her sister-in-law, Druella Black, Sirius’ and Regulus’ aunt. Druella’s blonde hair framed a face that seemed carved from porcelain. Her blue eyes, cool and calculating, rested on her youngest daughter, Narcissa—who was talking amiably with Lucius Malfoy across the room—possibly thinking about marrying her off and expanding their bank account in Gringontts. Sirius wanted to run away from this circus.

“Well, if it isn’t our young royalties.”

Sirius and Regulus jerked around. A young girl, probably in her twenties, was facing them, her onyx eyes glistening with mockery.

“Or should I say, the royal and the peasant?”

“Bella,” Sirius acknowledged his cousin coolly, his expression carefully blank.

Bellatrix was Druella’s eldest daughter. Her long, jet-black hair tumbled down her back in wild, untamed curls—a distinct inheritance from her father’s side of the Black family. Unlike her two younger sisters, who had inherited the lighter tones of their mother—a Rosier by birth—Bellatrix’s dark locks marked her as unmistakably her father’s daughter.

“I’ve heard you’ve been causing quite a stir at Hogwarts, cousin,” said Bellatrix. She wore a velvet black gown and a silver belt with serpentine patterns. The gown flowed down to the floor, the hem brushing against it as she moved closer to the two boys, with an almost predatory expression. “Gryffindor suits you. So full of foolish courage and reckless disregard for tradition.”

Sirius felt the familiar anger rise in him but he forced it down. He subtly raised his chin. “It’s better than being a mindless snob, cousin.”

Her smile faltered for only a second before it returned more dangerous than before. “Oh, Sirius, always so quick with your insults. You do have a sharp tongue for such a young brat.” She leaned near his ear, uncomfortably close. “Perhaps I should just cut it out.”

The hair on Sirius’ neck rose with disgust. Regulus looked between them. He opened his throat to say something but the words stuck in his throat. Bellatrix’s gaze flickered to him.

“And you little prince,” she said, her tone almost sweet, like poisoned honey. “You have potential. A chance to make this family proud.” She shot Sirius a disapproving glance. “Unlike some.”

Sirius crossed his arms. “Tell me, Bella, don’t you have anything better to do than taunting children? Or have the adults in this room realised you’re entirely bonkers and chosen to stay away from you?”

Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed, her sneer never leaving her lips. “One of these days, Sirius, you’re going to regret this attitude. And I’ll be there, watching. Until then.” She bowed slightly, a mocking gesture before leaving to join her father.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” said Regulus.

“Yeah right. Like she’ll do anything about it. Bellatrix is all big words and empty threats.”

“She’s unpredictable and ruthless. You know she is.”

“Don’t worry, I can take care of myself,” Sirius said, scanning the place, trying to find a single person among the many, friendly enough to chat with. He sighed with defeat and turned to Regulus. “You know what? I think I’m gonna go get some air.”

“What? You’re leaving me here alone?”

“Oh c’mon, Reg, it’ll only be for a few minutes. The atmosphere here is suffocating. Besides, you’re going to be just fine.” Sirius grinned. “You’re with your kind, little prince.”

“Fine,” said Regulus. “I’ll go see if Mother requires my assistance in anything.”

“You do that, good boy. Make sure she takes her sedatives,” said Sirius. Regulus rolled his eyes, and his brother shoved him playfully with his elbow.

Sirius turned from the drawing room and made his way to the library. He wasn’t entirely sure why he sought solitude there, but since meeting Remus, he found that libraries made him feel quite peaceful. They reminded Sirius of him. He already missed the other boys terribly. The thought of waiting two whole weeks to return to Hogwarts felt unbearable. Writing to them wasn’t an option either. His mother would likely intercept his letters, just as she did with Regulus’. He needed to think of another way to stay in touch for the times he would be trapped at Grimmauld.

Sirius approached the heavy wooden door, only to realise it was already open, low voices coming from within. He carefully stepped closer, hidden in the shadows of the hallway. Glancing inside the library, he could recognise his aunt Druella sitting behind the desk, her eyes fixed on another woman, standing beside her.

“You wished to talk to me, Mother,” the other female voice said.

“I did,” Druella replied. She gestured to the chair opposite her. “Please, Andromeda, sit.”

“I’d rather stand, thank you.”

Druella’s vein twitched on her cheek but she didn’t insist. “Very well.” She crossed her hands on the desk, with a serious expression. “We need to discuss about Rabastan Lestrange.”

“What about him?” Andromeda asked.

“In a few months, you will be graduating from Hogwarts. The arrangements have already been made.”

Sirius eagerly leaned closer to the door.

“After your graduation, you will be wed to him,” said Druella.

“What?”

Druella grimaced at her daughter’s tone. “He is a suitable match. Pureblood, from a family of impeccable standing. Bellatrix is to be wed to his older brother Rodolphus in a year from now.”

“Please, tell me you’re not being serious right now.”

Her firm expression only confirmed that she was. Sirius wondered who looked more shocked at the moment; him or his cousin.

“You can’t do that! That man is almost fifteen years older than her! You’re planning on marrying us off to these monsters?”

“Watch your tone, daughter,” Druella warned, her voice clipped. “It is an honour to unite our family with the Lestranges. They are a respected pureblood family. The match with Rabastan is advantageous in every way.”

“Advantageous for who? Because it certainly is not for me!” She ran towards Druella and knelt before her, grabbing her hands. “Mother, they are cruel. You know that as well as I do.”

“This is for the good of our family,” said Druella, snatching her hands away. “You will make a fine bride, and your place among high society will be solidified. Bellatrix is to marry Rodolphus Lestrange and once Narcissa comes of age, she will be betrothed to Lucius Malfoy. He’s been courting her for months. You will perform your duty to our family, as your sisters will do, and that is final.”

Andromeda scoffed, standing up. “I’m nothing more than a beautiful piece in your collection, am I?" She looked down at her mother. "I only have value as long as you can profit from me.”

Druella slammed her hand on the desk and abruptly stood up, the chair scratching on the floor. “Don’t be insolent, child. The women of our family have been doing this for centuries.” She looked up and down at her daughter with an unreadable expression. “You are no exception.”

“No, of course, I’m not,” said Andromeda. “I’m just a piece of meat. Like my sisters.” Her voice dropped to a resentful whisper. “Like you were before us.”

Druella slapped her hard across her face. “Don’t you dare talk to me in that manner ever again! You will marry Lestrange even if I must drag you to the altar!”

“I don’t love him! I don’t even like him, for Salazar’s sake! My feelings towards him will never change.”

The older woman laughed. “Feelings? What do your feelings have to do with anything? This is a matter of duty, daughter. Your personal inclinations are entirely irrelevant. You will respect our decision.”

“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Duty. And what about love? What about happiness? Do those mean nothing to you?”

“Love is a luxury our kind cannot afford,” Druella said, pacing towards the fireplace. “It is fleeting and dangerous, it clouds judgment and leads to ruins.” She turned to her daughter. “What truly matters is to ensure the purity of our kind.”

“You don’t understand. I will not marry Rabastan.” She straightened her back. “My heart already belongs to another.”

Druella stopped pacing and turned sharply to her. “Who?”

 “Ted Tonks,” said Andromeda.

There was a moment of stillness in which Sirius could feel that a storm was about to unleash in the room. He knew Ted Tonks; seventh-year like his cousin, Ravenclaw, and—

“A Mudblood?” Druella roared. “Absolutely, not! You will end whatever sickening relationship is going on between the two of you before your indignities ruin your betrothal to Rabastan!”

“There—will—be—no—betrothal!”

Druella rushed to her daughter. “Hold your tongue! You will learn to obey! This union is not yours to refuse!”

“Mother, you’re not listening to me! I can’t marry Lestrange, I’m carrying Ted’s child!”

The words escaped her lips before she could suppress them. The room fell into oppressive silence. Sirius gasped at his cousin’s confession and quickly covered his mouth with a hand. Druella’s eyes widened with horror as they fell on her daughter’s abdomen. Andromeda hesitantly came closer.

“Mother, please, I love him—”

Druella lashed out again, striking her even harder. Her hand shot out, gripping Andromeda’s hair with surprising strength as she dragged her towards the desk. “You have tainted our bloodline with your filth.” She pinned Andromeda’s head to the table. “You will terminate this pregnancy! Do you hear me?”

Andromeda broke free from her grip and shoved her away. “No, I won’t!” Her whole body was shaking. “How can you even say that? What kind of person are you?”

“This is the last time I am saying this. You—will—fix—this!”

“No,” Andromeda roared. “It is my life! Mine. I get to choose who I spend it with. Ted is good and kind, and I love him. So, hear me when I say I will marry him instead.” She raised her chin. “I’m not a pawn in your schemes and I won’t appease your twisted sense of purity.”

The room fell silent as the grave. Druella’s eyes bore into Andromeda’s, a silent battle of wills waging between them. Sirius thought Druella might strike her again but instead, her face smoothed into a mask of cold indifference.

“If you choose this path, you will no longer be a daughter of mine,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “Continue with this, and you shall be cast out, erased from the family tree, disowned.” Her gaze turned deadly still. “You will be as good as dead.”

The words struck Andromeda like a physical blow. Sirius could see that even though she had her back turned on him; her shoulders slumped like all courage had levitated from her body, leaving her naked and exposed. For a moment, Sirius thought his cousin might be reconsidering.

Andromeda drew a deep breath. “If that’s what it takes,” she said, “then so be it. I choose my own path.” She didn’t wait to hear her mother’s reply. She turned on her heel and rushed towards the door, her head held high even as her heart shattered with every step.

Sirius instinctively pressed himself closer to the wall, his small frame flattening against its cold surface, as his cousin stormed out of the room and exited the main threshold of the mansion. Without hesitation, he quickened his pace and followed her, heading for the courtyard. He found Andromeda seated on a marble bench, her brown hair flowing with the cool winter breeze. She was quietly crying, her sobs shattering the silent night. Violent shivers ran through her body, and Sirius couldn’t really tell if they were from the cold or the depth of her sorrow.

Andromeda glanced up and quickly wiped her tears away. “Hello, little one,” she said quietly.

Sirius returned a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Andromeda was his favourite cousin out of Druella’s three daughters. Bellatrix was cruel and arrogant and though Narcissa had never been mean to him and Regulus, she was quieter than her sisters. She was also in her fifth year at Hogwarts so she rarely interacted with her younger cousins. But Andromeda was nothing like them. She was kind and warm, unlike the rest of the Blacks. It pained Sirius to see her in that state.

“Hi, Andy.”

“What are you doing out here? You’ll catch a cold,” she said, instinctively hugging her small figure.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, scanning her up and down. Her satin emerald dress had a fitted bodice and delicate, barely-there straps that met in a low back, making it ill-suited for the cold London weather. But Andromeda was always like that—always worrying about everyone, even now when she was the one underdressed, sitting in the chilly courtyard.

“I could say the same about you,” said Sirius, moving to sit next to her. He took his wand out of his pocket and pointed it towards her. “Calefacere Aegis,” he muttered softly.

Andromeda immediately felt warmth spreading through her body, her muscles relaxing as the chill melted away. She grinned widely at him. “Nice one. Seems like we’ve got a prodigy in the family.”

“Please, I’m only following your steps.” He bumped his shoulder into hers playfully. “Learning from the best.”

Andromeda laughed and affectionately ruffled his hair, before falling silent, her gaze drifting vacantly across the courtyard.

“You wanna talk about it?” Sirius asked.

She hesitated. “Well, I guess you won’t be seeing me at family gatherings anymore.”

Sirius followed the line of her gaze. “Yeah, I kinda heard your conversation with Aunt Druella…”

“You’ve been eavesdropping?” Andromeda asked, pretending to be scandalised.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly intentional,” Sirius said. “I was heading to the library, trying to hide from this parody in the drawing room, but you were already there.” He paused, his voice quieter now. “Are you cross with me?”

Andromeda shook her head and wrapped an arm around him. “No, of course not. Trust me, you’re the last person I could ever be mad at.” She opened her purse, pulled out a packet of cigarettes, and placed one between her lips, lighting it with a flick of her lighter. The smoke curled into the cool night air.

“What’s this?” Sirius asked.

“This,” said Andromeda as she exhaled deeply to release the smoke, “is a cigarette. Muggles smoke them, though Teddy insists I should quit it. Says it’s bad for the baby.” She shrugged. “Given the circumstances, one is required.”

“So he knows.”

Andromeda nodded. “I found out about a month ago. We were both pretty shocked at first. We didn’t mean for this to happen but I suppose we hadn’t been that careful either. I was dreading I might scare him away, but he’s been very supportive.” Her mind drifted to the day she broke the news and she smiled faintly at the memory. “He said he’d respect whatever I decided.”

“And you want to keep it?”

“In a few months, I’ll finally be turning eighteen. I’ve been with Ted since our sixth year—secretly, of course—and he would always joke about marrying me and us running away together. Now, that doesn’t seem like such a distant dream,” she muttered as if talking to herself. She touched her belly and met Sirius’ eyes. “I want to start a family with him. I want to leave all this nonsense behind.”

“Won’t you miss your own family?”

“My sisters mostly, yes. And you and Regulus of course.” Tears started to gather beneath her eyelids when she looked at him. “But I can’t chain myself in a life of misery.”

Sirius didn’t respond right away. He silently wished Andromeda wouldn’t choose Ted over their family, knowing that choice would lead to her being banished. But he also knew it would be selfish of him to ask her to stay. He only took her hand in his own and held it firmly.

“You’re real brave, Andy,” he whispered. He then smirked knowingly. “You should’ve been placed in Gryffindor.”

Laughter escaped from her lips, soft and melodic. She shook her head. “No, I think I’m quite fit for Slytherin. You, on the other hand, are a perfect Gryffindor. You know, I still remember how genuinely happy you were with the Hat’s decision during the Sorting Ceremony.” She wrapped an arm around him again, pulling him into a sideways hug. “My little troublemaker.”

“What can I say? Here’s to being the Black sheep of the family.”

“Literally.”

Sirius laughed despite everything. He leaned further into her arms, wishing he could stay there forever. “Andy?”

“Yes?”

“If you’re disowned, that means I won’t be able to see you again?”

Andromeda frowned sceptically as she considered his question. The familiar smirk returned to her youthful face. “I believe I said we won’t see each other at family gatherings. I did not say at all.” She gently tapped the back of his hand, her fingers brushing softly against his skin, before she let her hand rest lightly on his. “Sirius, I need you to promise me something,” she said.

“’ Course, anything.”

She cupped his face and stared right into his eyes. “Don’t let them change you,” she whispered. “You are bright and radiant. It’s no coincidence you were named after the brightest star. Just—just don’t let them fill your heart with all this darkness. And do whatever you can to protect Regulus too. He is young and soft but your mother always had a talent for bending everything at her will, just like mine.”

Sirius placed his hand on top of hers. “I won’t let anything happen to him,” he said fiercely.

“Care for you as much as you care for your brother, little one.”

“I will. I promise.”

Andromeda let go of his face and threw her arms around him. “Good,” she murmured, the tears finally rolling down her cheeks. “I love you. And I’m so proud of you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“I love you too, Andy,” he said, his hands tightening around her waist.

They stayed in the embrace for a while longer, neither wanting to break the connection. Finally, Andromeda released him, letting her arms fall to her sides. “You should go back inside,” she said. “They’ll be looking for you.”

“I doubt that,” said Sirius, “but I’ll go anyway. I promised Reg I wouldn’t leave him alone for too long.”

Andromeda nodded and Sirius reluctantly stood up, giving her one last glance before leaving the courtyard. Entering the house he realised his mother and Druella were nowhere to be seen. He leaned to the wall, scanning the place in search of Regulus. 

“Good thing you’d only be gone for a few minutes.” 

Sirius turned his head. Regulus was sulking, arms crossed. “Sorry, something happened,” said Sirius.

Regulus’ annoyance melted into curiosity. “What?”

“It’s about Andy. I’ll tell you later.”

Regulus didn’t press him for more. “Well, you didn’t miss anything, really,” he said with a shrug. “Only the usual. Uncle Alphard got drunk, Father’s still locked in his study and Mother introduced me to at least seven relatives I swear I’ve never seen in my life. She’s angry by the way, with you.”

Sirius scoffed. “Shocker. Whatever for?”

“She couldn’t find you. Said it was disgraceful you were gone since, you know, we are the hosts.”

“Right. Well then, maybe I should retreat to my room since she’s already mad.”

“Don’t you dare! You want to cross her again? Didn’t you have enough earlier this evening?”

Sirius shrugged. “At least she cares about my existence when she’s furious.”

 “You are the firstborn. The heir of our family. She cares about you—”

“Well, she surely has a funny way of showing it.”

“—but you’re always giving her a hard time.”

“I give her a hard time?” Sirius shot back. “Have you seen what she does to me?”

Regulus’ face remained blank. “I have. She never hurts me like she does to you because I’m not disobeying her all the time. You should try that for once.”

Sirius stared at him. “You’re unbelievable,” he said and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Regulus called after him.

“My room. I can’t stand the sight of any of you right now.”

Regulus sighed. He walked to the drawing room to join the rest of their family. Walburga was surrounded by the other guests, holding her goblet to make a toast.

“To the Black family,” she said. Her eyes swept over the room, searching for Sirius. They rested on Regulus instead. “May we continue to uphold the values that have made our name great.”

Druella’s hand clenched around her glass.

The clock struck twelve.

* * * * *

“Merry Christmas!”

A sharp pop echoed through the room as Herny Evans opened a champagne bottle, a light mist of flowing bubbles running down his hand. His wife, Margaret, approached, beaming and holding two glasses.

“Merry Christmas, my loves,” Margaret said to her daughters.

Henry ruffled Lily’s hair affectionately. “Now, who’s ready to open their presents?”

“No, no! After dinner,” said Margaret, shoving him playfully. “Lily, dear, can you help me bring the dishes to the table?”

“’Course, Mum,” said Lily, already following her mother to the kitchen. A few minutes later Margaret emerged in the living room holding a platter with roast chicken. Lily carefully placed the cranberry sauce and the salad on the dining table while Petunia was folding napkins into neat triangles. She wore a simple yet elegant dress that made her look older than her fifteen years. There was a tightness in her expression, a coldness in her eyes that seemed like her permanent features for the past few months.

“That looks lovely, Tuney,” said Lily.

Petunia’s hands paused for a moment before she continued folding. “Thank you,” she said.

Lily bit her lip, feeling the familiar sting of her sister’s coldness. She had expected this attitude from Petunia but that didn’t make it any easier. They had once been very close, sharing dreams and secrets and silly crushes on boys. Then things changed when Lily got her letter from Hogwarts. Petunia had grown distant, almost resentful as if Lily’s magic had built an invisible wall between them.

“Oh God, everything looks delicious,” said Henry. “Well done, my girls.”

Margaret sighed. “I hope there’s enough for everyone. Everything was so overpriced, and we’re already tight for this semester.”

“Yeah, ’cause we had to spend a fortune on her stupid things,” Petunia muttered.

Henry hugged his wife. “Don’t worry, love,” he said. “There’s always hot chocolate.” He winked at Lily who forced a smile though she didn’t feel like celebrating Christmas that year. Not when so much had changed.

The family sat down for dinner. The conversation was light, filled with plans for the new year and Lily’s stories about her time at Hogwarts. With each memory Lily shared, Petunia’s detachment grew stronger and she responded only when directly spoken to, her tone polite yet forced. After dinner, they gathered near the fireplace and took turns opening their presents. Lily unwrapped a book of advanced spells that she had been eyeing for months and felt gratitude wash over her, knowing her parents didn’t have money to waste but still bought her something she had longed for the whole semester. Petunia unwrapped her own gifts with indifference. Lily reluctantly approached her, holding a small package.

“This is for you,” she said.

Petunia tore the colourful paper and opened a small wooden box, revealing a delicate silver bracelet with tiny, glistening charms. “It’s actually quite pretty,” she said, her voice tinged with suspicion, as she took the bracelet in her hands.

Lily beamed. “I enchanted each of its charms for you!” She stepped closer and touched a little silver star. “This one shimmers with a golden light. And this plays music when touched—” She gently brushed her fingertips on the charm and a soft melody filled the room.

“Lily, darling, it’s wonderful!” Margaret said.

Henry leaned closer over Lily to get a better look. “Can you enchant my keychain? With Beatles preferably,” he said.

Lily smiled. “Yes, Dad, but we seriously need to do something with your Beatles obsession.” She returned her attention to the bracelet, still in Petunia’s hands and pointed to yet another charm. “And this—”

“Let go of it,” said Petunia

Lily was taken aback by the harshness in her voice. “I only wanted to show you how—”

“I don’t want it,” Petunia said, tossing the bracelet back inside the box. “You always have to show off, don’t you? To make everything about yourself.”

“Tuney, I—”

“Save it,” Petunia said sharply. “I don’t want your bracelet. It’s just as weird as you are.” She threw her gift to the floor, stormed out of the living room, heading upstairs and banging her bedroom door. Lily could feel her heart sink once again. Stupid, so stupid, she thought about herself. Tears started forming in the corners of her eyes.

“This attitude is unacceptable. I’ll talk to her,” said Henry.

Margaret grabbed his arm. “Don’t. Give her some time.” She stroked Lily’s hair. “Don’t mind her, sweetheart. You know how she is. I’m sure she’ll wear it.”

Lily just nodded, brushing her tears away. Her father looked at her sympathetically. “Hey pumpkin, don’t mop, you’ll ruin your makeup,” he said. Lily snorted and wiped her eyes. Henry wiggled his eyebrows. “Right, wrong daughter,” he said, smiling. “Perhaps some hot chocolate will cheer you up?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks, Dad,” Lily said. “I’m gonna go to my room if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is,” her mother said. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Good night and happy Christmas,” said Lily.

“Good night, love.”

“Happy Christmas pumpkin,” her parents called.

Lily dragged herself to the second floor. She paused outside Petunia’s bedroom, battling whether to enter or leave her alone. She opened the door of her bedroom instead and slumped onto her bed. The night had taken an unexpected turn for sure. Lily had only wanted to make her sister happy, spending hours working on that bracelet, searching for the right spells for each charm with Mary and Marlene and she even added Petunia’s favourite perfume to it. In the end, her sister didn’t seem to appreciate the effort.

Lily knew Petunia was jealous of her. But it was something deeper than that. Last summer, when Lily got her letter from Hogwarts revealing she was a witch, everyone was thrilled—even Petunia. Lily would be the first magical child in her family. Petunia believed her own letter would arrive soon. She had waited and waited for the school’s owl to come but it never did. Of course, it wouldn’t; the letters were distributed with great precision to all magical children selected once they reached eleven years old, though Petunia hadn’t known that back then.

Eventually, she decided to take the matter into her own hands, sending Hogwarts a letter to ask if she could attend the first semester with her sister. A few days later, an owl was sent from the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Petunia was over the moon—until she read his letter. He informed her that unfortunately, she couldn’t study at Hogwarts as she was not selected. She didn’t possess magic like her sister did. Petunia was furious. Unlike her, Lily had shown signs she was different from an early age. She would play with flowers, changing their appearance or giving them peculiar abilities. Strange things happened when her emotions intensified; a glass spilt without being touched, and things she needed appeared magically out of nowhere when she couldn’t find them. Animals also seemed to communicate with her in a different language; one only she could understand. Petunia would plead with her to teach her. To show her how she did all of those wonderful things. But it wasn’t that simple. Magic couldn’t be taught to anyone. And not every Muggle child was chosen to attend Hogwarts.

Wizards and witches were selected by two magical objects of utmost importance, that existed since the school was founded: the Hogwarts Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance. The Book recorded the names of all magical children born in Britain as soon as they displayed any signs of magical ability even as infants, ensuring that only children truly possessing magical potential were written down. The Quill was paired with the Book of Admittance, hovering beside it. It would attempt to write down the name of every child who showcased magical ability, even if their names were not registered in the records. But the Book was picky. It would only open for children destined to attend Hogwarts. If the Book didn’t open, the child’s magic was not strong or consistent enough, and the name was left out.

The Headmaster tried to explain all these things to Petunia to justify Lily’s selection, but Petunia didn’t want to understand. She thought it was stupid—that the Book was wrong about her. That she deserved to become a witch like her sister. Over the weeks, her excitement gave way to resentment. She couldn’t stand the sight of Lily. It only reminded her that she would never be enough—unique enough, special enough. What she didn’t understand was that she was already enough. Just different.

A sharp tap on Lily’s window broke her from her thoughts. Someone appeared behind the foggy glass, his dark hair dusted with snow. Lily quickly stood up and approached the windowsill.

“Severus?”

“Hi,” he said as Lily opened the window. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said. “What are you doing? How did you climb up here?”

“I enchanted the vines,” said Severus, brushing the snow off his hair. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, let me help.”

Lily extended her hand, and Severus grabbed it, allowing himself to be pulled into her bedroom. He stood awkwardly near the window, glancing around the small space. Lily had hung magical pictures all over the walls, of herself, Marlene, and Mary, their figures moving on the page like a video. Small pots with magical plants were lined up on the shelves above her desk. Her Hogwarts uniform hung on her wardrobe, her dark red Gryffindor scarf matching the blankets on her bed. Lily approached the door, locked it, and cast a silencing charm to prevent her parents—or worse, Petunia—from discovering she had a visitor.

“I like what you did with the décor,” Severus said.

Lily sighed. “What are you doing here, Severus?”

“I—I just wanted to see you.”

“Really? That’s new.”

“And also, I wanted to give you your Christmas present.”

Lily blinked. “You got me a present?”

“I always get you presents,” Severus said, grinning. He stepped closer and gently took her hands, placing a small package wrapped in gold and red paper; Gryffindor’s colours. Lily’s head snapped at him. Opening the package, she saw a small snow globe with a beautiful hillside. Two figures were lying on the snowy grass. It was them.

“It’s beautiful,” Lily said, her voice full of emotion.

“It’s a replica of our spot near the lake, outside Cokeworth,” said Severus. “The weather in the globe changes with the seasons. So, if I cast the spell correctly, there should be flowers on the grass in spring and those little colourful butterflies you like.”

Lily kept staring at it. Suddenly, the little Lily inside the snow globe stood up and little Severus followed her as they made their way towards the old willow tree on top of the hill.

“They’re moving!”

His grin widened. “’ Course they are. Listen, I wanted to apologise for my behaviour this semester. I missed you.” He paused, swallowing with difficulty. “So, I figured that you should have this. In that way, no matter what happens, we’ll always have that place. We can always stay there.”

Lily threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s wonderful.”

Severus hugged her back, his hands pressed tightly around her waist until she let go of him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “So… how did dinner go?”

“Take a wild guess,” Lily said, dragging herself to her bed and slumping onto it.

“Mmm… let’s see,” Severus said, moving to lie next to her. “Your father surely asked you if you wanted hot chocolate.” He pointed an accusing finger and Lily chuckled. Severus grinned and rolled his eyes. “’ Course he did. And you wonder where your sugar addiction comes from.”

Lily shoved him playfully. “Go on.”

“Petunia was being a pain in the ass, and your mother very discreetly took her side?”

“Well, she didn’t exactly take her side,” said Lily, her hands playing with the globe. “She just didn’t scold her.”

“I believe that’s the same thing,” said Severus.

Lily shrugged. “I don’t really care. She always does this anyway.”

“And you let her,” said Severus.

“Oh, what a coincidence,” Lily said mockingly. “You speak from your personal experience?”

“I just don’t understand why you allow her to treat you that way. You could do anything about it. Turn her hair bright purple, spread itching powder on her sheets, seal her mouth for days—that last one would actually be phenomenal,” he said with a sly smirk.

“We are not allowed to perform magic in the Muggle world until we graduate,” said Lily.

“No one has to know,” said Severus, staring lazily at the ceiling. “If Petunia can’t admire you, make her fear you.”

“I don’t want people to fear me. I want them to be comfortable around me,” Lily said. Her brow creased as memories of Severus’ actions with the other Slytherins during the semester flooded her mind. She abruptly stood up from the bed and faced down at him. “Seems like we don’t have that in common anymore, right?”

Severus tensed and straightened his back to face her. “I just don’t want you to hurt over people who don’t deserve your time.”

“And you do?” Lily challenged. “Deserve my time?”

“Lils, we’ve been friends since we were five.”

“Yes, yes we have. But you so easily forget every time you’re with Mulciber and Avery.”

Severus sighed. “Not this again. I thought I explained it to you and that you understood—”

“Oh yeah, I understood,” she said. “I even let you ignore me for months. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t bother me.”

Severus stared at her, his expression blank. “I don’t know what you want me to do,” he said.

“Of course you do, you’re just too afraid of doing so.”

“Lils—”

“Severus, just leave it,” she said quietly. “I can get past the fact that you avoid me at Hogwarts. But I won’t tolerate you being a bully.”

Severus finally stood up, frowning at her. “What do you mean?”

“Remus Lupin,” said Lily.

“What about him?”

“I’ve seen how you lot treat him. Remus is a kind person and he doesn’t deserve this.”

“He’s friends with Black and Potter,” Severus spat.

“Yes, and?”

“Oh, so you suddenly like them?”

Lily crossed her arms defensively. “I never said I did. They are immature and annoying. But Remus is the silent one and you pick on him just because you can’t harass Sirius and James.” She tilted her head. “I’ve heard that their families are quite important.”

Severus huffed. “Now it’s Sirius and James.”

“I don’t understand why you get like this. They’re my housemates, after all. Point is, leave Remus alone.”

“Or what?” Severus said.

“Or you’ll have to deal with me too.”

Lily had that look on her face; the kind of look that could alone move mountains if she wanted to. Strong and steadfast. Stubborn and absolute. Severus could only stare at her.

“I should go,” he finally said, sounding equally distant.

“Yeah, you’d better.”  

He opened the window and grabbed the vine. This time, Lily didn’t stop him. She didn’t know what else to say, anyway. She closed the window with unnecessary force and lay down on her bed.

Worst bloody Christmas ever. 

January 9^th, 1972

“Again,” Walburga commanded. Her voice was clipped, leaving no room for disobedience. It was the voice of a woman used to being obeyed without question, a tone that had crushed the wills of many lesser souls. “This time, use ‘Confringo’.”

Sirius nodded curtly and took a deep breath. He had been practicing for over two hours with no break and his arm ached from the repeated hexes and jinxes but there was no sign of fatigue in his mother’s face. He raised his wand—his right hand moving instinctively, naturally as it had the first time he held it. The spell formed on his lips, his voice steady and firm. With a sharp flick of his wrist, a burst of red light shot from the tip of his wand, striking the target with incredible force. The dummy exploded and then magically reformed.

Sirius smirked. He had executed the spell flawlessly, with mastery and power that belied his young age. The satisfaction, however, was short-lived as he turned to face his mother, hoping to catch a rare glimmer of approval in her eyes. Walburga’s expression remained unchanged. Her eyes focused intently on his right hand, still clenching his wand tightly. Sirius swallowed hard and raised his hand, ready to strike again.

“Confri—”

“Stop!” Walburga hissed, her voice like ice cracking across a frozen lake. “What are you doing, boy?”

Sirius froze, his wand still pointed at the dummy. He looked at his mother, confusion briefly crossing his features before he schooled them into a mask of indifference. “What do you mean? I hit the target, didn’t I? And I was about to do it again.”

“With your right hand.”

Shit. “Well, I’m right-handed, you know that,” Sirius said carefully.

“Not in this house, you’re not!” Her voice rose, sharp. She reached out and grabbed his right hand with a grip that shot a sharp pain through him. “This,” she sneered, raising his hand so that it was level to his eyes, “is not how a true Black wields their magic. The right hand is for mundane tasks, for the trivialities of life. It’s Muggle-like,” she spat with disgust. “Magic flows from the left hand, from the heart, from the core of what it means to be a wizard of noble blood. Now, try again.”

Sirius winced as she forcefully let go of his wrist but refused to let her see him falter. He raised his wand.

“Confringo!”

The spell exploded from the tip of his wand, missing its target by a few inches and leaving a blast of smoke on the wall behind the dummy.

“Again!” Walburga screamed.

“Confringo!”

The spell hit right next to the previous blast, creating another hole in the tapestry.

“Again!”

“Confringo!” Sirius yelled, pouring every fibre of his will into the incantation. But it didn’t do anything good. He missed the target again. He didn’t wait for his mother to scream her orders. He started casting the spell again and again and again, each time more intensely than before, and each time he missed the target.

“Stop, stop, stop!”

Sirius’ hand stilled mid-air. He was panting, sweat running down his forehead as he glared at the dummy across the room with the most hateful expression. The past few hours he had managed to perform the other spells without using his right hand but the blasting curse required precision and control that he couldn’t force on his left. 

Walburga rushed to his side and forcefully grabbed his cheeks, yanking his head to make him face her. “This is pathetic. You’ve been using your right hand at Hogwarts, haven’t you? That’s why you are so useless with your left.”

He didn’t reply. He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling the familiar, bitter taste of blood.

“You are a disappointment.”

Sirius could feel his blood boiling within him. He couldn’t help it. She provoked him and he bit back. That was their dynamic—a vicious circle. “I believe I’m better than any of you were at my age,” he said. “It’s just a hand, the magic is the same.”

“You, arrogant, little—” She raised her hand as if to strike him, but abruptly stilled, reconsidering. Sirius didn’t turn his head the other way. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, bracing himself to take the hit. When it didn’t come, he reluctantly opened his eyes, blinking.

“As you seem so confident about your abilities,” Walburga began, her voice low, “let’s see what you can do if you can’t use your right hand at all.”

She flicked her wand—a subtle, almost imperceptible movement. Sirius bit back a cry and lurched forward, feeling a sudden, searing pain in his right hand as if it had plunged into a bed of burning coals. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as he looked down to see his skin split open, deep cuts crisscrossing it. Blood welled up from the wounds and dripped onto the floor. Walburga had used this curse on him before. The pain was overwhelming. But it was also familiar. He had memorised every single one of its effects; the way it made his heart race and his stomach churn. He had seen the blood before and watched the wounds heal into faded scars. He had grown intimate with the pain and embraced it like an old, persistent friend.

Sirius forced himself to meet her eyes. Is this all you can do? Walburga slightly lowered her head as if greeting her opponent in a duel, accepting his silent provocation. She flickered her wand with a sharp motion.

“Fractura Bracchium!”

A wail escaped Sirius’ lips before he could suppress it. No. Walburga’s lips formed an evil, self-satisfactory smirk. Sirius grimaced and cursed himself for exposing his agony. She didn’t deserve the pleasure. His knuckles were white from the pressure as he tried to hold the shattered bones of his right hand steady. Walburga circled him, tapping her wand in her palm.

“See, each time you think you have the last word, I’ll always have the right spell to put you back in place,” she said. “Now try again. Before I break your other one as well.”

Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He released his broken wrist and let it drop lifelessly at his side. The pain was enough to make him vomit. He held it down. Feel the pain.Claim it as yours. If it belongs to you, she can’t hurt you. He opened his eyes, fixing them at the dummy across the room, and raised his wand firmly.

“Confringo!”

January 10^th, 1972

Sirius woke up early in the morning. In a few hours, he would be leaving for Hogwarts. Finally.

His wrist hung limply at his side, swollen and bruised. The skin was raw where the spell had torn at it, the blood already drying in long lines. Sirius stared at the wound, a numbness spreading through him. The pain didn’t shock him as much as it should have, after last night’s events. It was just another in a long line of injuries, another scar that would serve as a reminder. It was something familiar. But beneath the numbness, rage was rising that he could barely contain.

His thoughts were a blur of the past two weeks, jumping from one memory to another—his mother’s cold voice, the way his father always turned his back when she was hurting him, the burning sensation of her curses. He wanted to scream, punch something, lash out, do anything to release the pent-up frustration and fear trapped inside him. Instead, he forced himself to focus on something he could actually do. Wash the blood off. Clean the wound. Bandage the wrist. Take control of something in this wretched house.

He walked to his bathroom and turned on the tap with trembling fingers, letting the water run until steam began to rise. The hot water scalded his skin, but he welcomed the sting. This kind of pain was something he could choose. He pressed his back against the cool tiles and closed his eyes, tilting his head back. If only he could stay there forever, let the water wash everything away. When it finally began to cool he stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist, looking away from his reflection in the foggy mirror.

He was tired, so very tired. The thought of returning to Hogwarts was the only thing holding him together.

After he was fully dressed and done with packing, Sirius reached for a small leather-bound book on the nightstand, a matching one lying beside it. The diaries were supposed to be a gift, something he had spent hours working secretly on for the past two weeks, ever since he’d learned that his mother would keep his letters to Regulus. He slipped one diary into his trunk, hiding it beneath his clothes, and closed the lid with a snap.

The clock ticked on the wall. He still had some time before he needed to leave, just enough to do what he had been putting off.  Grabbing the other diary, he took a deep breath to steel himself for what came next and headed down the hall and to Regulus’ room. The door was slightly open, and Sirius stepped inside. Regulus was sitting on his bed, hunched over a book. He looked up as Sirius entered, his expression brightening before it clouded with sadness.

“Leaving already?”

“Not just yet,” said Sirius, closing the door behind him. “I wanted to say goodbye first.”

Regulus set the book aside and stood up, crossing the room to stand in front of his brother. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

Sirius’ chest tightened. Leaving Regulus behind in this house always felt like a betrayal. But he couldn’t stay. Not here. Not with them. “I know,” he murmured. “I’ll be back for the summer.”

Regulus’ eyes flickered to the bandages on Sirius’ right wrist. “Your hand—what happened?”

“It’s nothing,” said Sirius, “Just some scratches.”

There was a pause. Sirius knew his brother had questions—questions he was too afraid to ask, or perhaps too afraid to know the answers to.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Regulus said.

Sirius flinched away at his brother’s words. He reached into his robes and pulled out the diary. “I’ve got something for you,” he said, holding it out with a small smile.

“A book?”

“Not just any book. This one’s special. There’s actually two of them. I enchanted them so whatever you write will appear on mine. And when I write, you’ll see it in yours.”

“You mean—” Regulus broke off, his eyes widening slightly. “We can talk to each other even when you’re at Hogwarts?”

“Exactly.” Sirius’ smile widened. “No matter where I am, we can still talk. Just don’t let anyone know about it and we can say whatever we want. Just us.”

 “You did this for me?”

“For us,” Sirius said, placing his hands on Regulus’ shoulders. “I don’t want you to be alone either. So if you ever need to talk, write to me. Anytime.”

“Thank you,” Regulus said.

Sirius wished he could do more, he wished he could take Regulus away with him. But this was the best he could do for now. Besides, Regulus was supposed to attend Hogwarts next year. Just a few months ahead.

“Promise you’ll be back?”

Sirius pulled his little brother in a tight hug. “I promise,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ll always come back for you.” They held on to each other as if trying to prevent the inevitable. Sirius was the first to pull back. “Remember,” he said, “no matter what they say or do, you’re not alone. You’ve got me. Always.”

“I know. And you’ve got me,” said Regulus.

He gave Regulus one last, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before heading for the door. “Take care of yourself, Reggie. I’ll see you in summer.”

“I will. You too.”

He exited the room with no other word, unable to trust his voice. Regulus watched him as he left, the door closing behind him echoing in the quiet that followed. Sirius descended the stairs, glancing around to see if his parents would be in the drawing room to say goodbye to him. They weren’t. He opened the front door and stepped out into the cold London air. With his trunk in one hand and his wand safely tucked inside his robes, he made his way to the station.