Chapter 2
Sirius
Something was happening on Hallow. Something big, and Sirius was going to find out what. But to do that he'd need to get his hands dirty. So he was headed to Knockturn Hall, a black market tucked in the crevices of the Salazar quadrant.
Sirius dodged as a patrol of guards swept through the hall, one knocking him on the shoulder as he passed. Yeah, something was definitely happening. Sirius couldn't remember the last time he'd seen guards in Knockturn, at least not ones that were on duty. This was the place you came when you wanted something you could get in serious trouble for. Drugs, alcohol, extra oxygen, sometimes even weapons. The higher ups usually left this place alone, mostly because they came down here on their off time.
When you were in Knockturn you either kept your head down, made yourself smaller to look like less of a threat, or you held it as high as possible, waited like no one could stop you. Sirius did the latter, the Black family confidence spurring him forward. Even on the rare occasion Knockturn was raided, a Black would never receive any punishment more than a slap on the wrist, when others caught doing the same might be executed. Just one of the perks of having a noble name under a corrupt government.
Sirius turned a corner and entered the marketplace. Though dimly lit and grimy, it was nothing but bustling. The push and pull of deals being made settled over the large room, every few seconds voices would rise to fight over a price or quality, distinct over the droning chatter that was the default. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius spotted a hooded figure lurking in the back of the market. He watched as it rotated, ducking a small gambling room.
Sirius beelined for the room, yanking the door open and slamming it behind him. The figure turned to him swiftly as the door closed. Reaching up with long slender fingers she removed her hood, dropping her cloak to a small side table in the corner of the room, revealing a polished guards uniform.
“Black,” she said in greeting.
“Meadows,” said Sirius.
He and Dorcas had grown up together. She was two years older, but their mothers tended to run in the same circles. She looked sad. It made sense, though. Her girlfriend, Marlene, would've turned seventeen recently. She'd been in prison for some small offense, maybe stealing or vandalism, Sirius couldn't remember. Point was, she'd probably been executed already. He felt bad for Dorcas, her and Marlene had been joined at the hip for as long as he could recall. And he'd cared about Marlene when they were younger too, they were never best friends or anything, but she was kind, and bright, and Sirius liked that.
Dorcas held her hand out expectedly. Sighing, Sirius reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out five ration chips. No matter how wealthy you were, food was scarce. If the opportunity to get more rations arose, you took it. He handed the chips to her and watched as she counted them.
“They're sending the prisoners to earth.”
What. “What?”
“You heard me, Sirius.” She said, harboring an irritated tone. “Later today, they're sending the juvenile prisoners to earth, your little brother included. Lupin seems to think it'll be safe enough, anyway. The air is breathable at least.”
Sirius could feel panic setting in. He had to get on that ship.
“When?” He asked, voice shaking.
“21:00,” Dorcas lifted her cloak and swung it around herself, tying it around her shoulders. “Down at the docking bay.” She lifted her arm to look at the thin watch that sat on her wrist.
“You've got thirty minutes, Black.”
James
“Well?”
"...’Well’ what?”
Fleamont Potter squeezed his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why did you do it, James?”
James shrugged, feeling a chill creep its way up his spine. “I just…” he trailed off. If he told his father the real reason he'd set fire to the garden room, there was no way he'd get on that ship. If he told him a lie, Fleamont would see right through it. He’d always had a knack for catching James’s fibs, from stealing cookies from the jar on the kitchen counter at home, to if he was having sex or not, no matter the lie Monty would see right through it.
“I felt like it.” He finished. “I didn't mean for it to get out of hand.” It wasn't a lie. He had felt like it, for one reason or another, and he absolutely hadn't expected a fragile flame to grow into a roaring blaze of relentless destruction. If he'd known it'd go that far he probably wouldn't have done it. No matter what it cost him. At least that's what James likes to think. Maybe he's wrong though, maybe he'd do it again, just with a half second more of hesitation.
“You wasted two months of oxygen,” Monty stood, crossing his office to look out the window that took up one wall. He stared out into the sea of stars in front of him, taking in a deep gulp of air. “The Ministry won't forgive this. Not even for my son. Not when we are so low on oxygen already. You're lucky, James. You're eighteen. In any other circumstance you'd lose your life.” Fleamont’s breath hitched. “Do you understand that, son?” He said, voice trembling. “You could have lost your life. The Ministry has been extremely gracious in allowing you to make the journey to Ear–”
James could see it in his face. The moment he realized. Fleamont’s face twisted into an expression bearing all the pain and disappointment that came with being a father.
“You would risk it all?” He said quietly, “For that boy?” He shook his head. “You're out of your mind."
“He's my best friend.”
“He's a traitor!” Flesmont snapped. “He betrayed his family, his nation.” He collapsed into his chair, defeated. “There's nothing I can do now.”
A knock sounded at the door, and it opened, revealing two polished soldiers. “James Potter,” barked the one on the left. “Please come with us.” Fleamont sighed and James pretended he didn't see his father fighting tears.
James stood, legs shaking in fear. He met the soldiers at the door, feeling their fingers wrap around both arms. He stepped out of his fathers office, glancing back inside one last time. Flesmont wasn't looking at him.
He matched the soldiers’ long stride, waiting for the sound of the office’s metal door slamming shut to rip his arms away from their grasp.
“I don't need you to guide me.” James sneered. He was not an angry person, but at that moment he had no kindness to spare. “I'll go with you anyway.”
James’s eyes scanned the ship as they walked through the deathly silent halls of the Hallow. He held his head high, sometimes offering a nod to a destitute passerby. He took deep breaths, quelling his terror into only a spark. He turned familiar corners, not needing the soldiers to guide him to the hangar.
In another life James would've been a pilot. He would've flown small missions to old decaying spaceships for spare parts and scrap metal. It would've been a smaller life than his father had expected for him, but James would've been happy. He had been training to get his license, and was only two months away from it when…he was arrested. After his arrest James couldn't bring himself to do something that brought him so much joy. Not when his best friend was on death row.
James blinked, adjusting to the bright lighting that occupied the Hangar. He gasped as he processed the massive ship that lay in front of him. It was the shiniest, newest thing he'd ever seen. Its door was open, hinging from the bottom to create a ramp into the ship. Other teenagers were being ushered into it in a single file line, and being seated in rows and rows of black seats with extensive straps to hold them down as they departed and landed.
James tripped as he was shoved into the line, in front of two tall boys, one was blond, and built, the other was lean, though not quite scrawny, with dark hair and a malicious smile.
“The Minister’s son?” Spat the malicious one. “What could the prince of the Hallow have done to land himself here?” His voice was spindly and haunting. James felt his shoulders tense, uncomfortable at the sound.
“Maybe his daddy sent him.” Said the blond, menacingly. Though his voice was not quite as grating, it didn't bring any comfort to James. “Maybe he got tired of the nice kid act.”
Wait. Did James know these two? ‘Nice kid act’ sure sounded like James, he was often teased in school for being a goody two shoes and a teachers pet. He didn't recognize them, had they been in prison for too long. James wracked his brain for their names, tuning out their jeering behind him to think.
Suddenly the person in front of him whipped around with a cold look. James startled, fearing he'd already done something to get on the bad side of these kids, kids who already knew each other, and saw each other every day. Kids who hated James and his father for their money, though James could understand why on this point. He felt his heart speed up, pounding in his chest until he realized the boy wasn't looking at him. He was looking past him, glaring at the two boys (who had quieted) behind James.
James recognized the boy with a start.
Regulus Black.
Walburga Black’s second child. Most people in the Hallow didn't have two children, and those who did were very very rich. Like richer than the Potters rich. He'd been caught with a buttload of opioids two years ago, not a buyer, who would get a lesser punishment, maybe even no punishment if you were a Black, but as a seller. Even the Black family vault couldn't save him from that type of crime. He was arrested with two associates of his, Barry Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier, who must've been the two that stood behind James.
James smiled lightly at the boy, “Thank you.” He said softly. Regulus just rolled his eyes and turned back around. Before James could find it in him to be offended by Regulus’s distaste for him, he was distracted by a familiar face in the distance. A boy stood, next in line to board the ship, with lanky limbs, sandy brown hair, and a grim, hopeless expression. James’s best friend. James’s worst mistake.
Remus Lupin.
Marlene
Marlene's fingers fumbled with the pins in her hands, turning them in the lock on the belt that strapped her to a cushioned chair on the ship. Grimacing, she found the mechanism she needed and pushed down hard. She'd known she could do it, having years of practice from getting into her mothers stash of firewhisky, but she still felt pride from her accomplishment. Now she just had to wait for the right moment to escape.
Truthfully, if Marlene had thought out her plan a little more, she probably would have realized that it was insane to believe that Dorcas would harbor her, a fugitive, for who knows how long. And she would've realized that she would most likely have to find an alternate hiding space. Instead of thinking it through, though, she sat with an open lock and the fragments of a plan.
She was watching and waiting for her moment when the seat next to her was filled. She didn't even take the time to look at her neighbor, too focused on her task. The person next to her cleared their throat. When she didn't react, they did it again. Marlene looked up at them, irritated until she realized who it was.
Her face broke into a bright smile, “Remus!” She exclaimed, taking his hand in hers.
He chucked lightheartedly and squeezed her hand, interlacing their fingers. “I thought…” he said, smiling, “I thought since you're seventeen already you'd be…”
“Me too!” She whisper-yelled. “But come my birthday I was preparing myself and all, I'd kind of accepted it, and they come to my cell saying ‘Change of plans you have two more weeks.’ I didn't know what to think! But Earth. I never expected…”
Remus bent himself, albeit at a bit of an awkward angle due to his height, to knock his head against hers. “Me neither, Marlene. Me neither.”
Marlene leaned into him, her task at hand largely forgotten, she soaked in the warmth of her childhood friend, listening to his strangely steady breathing. “Why are you so calm, Remus?” She asked.
He took a deep breath before answering. “I woke up this morning thinking I was going to die today. This is–”
“Wait, but it's not your birthday.”
“Yeah, I counted wrong.” Remus wrinkled his nose. “Either way I much prefer this to execution.”
Marlene nodded. “Me too. But we don't know what's down there, Remus. We could just be prolonging our–”
She was interrupted by the sound of gunshots and screams ringing in the hangar. Marlene peered over the heads in the seats in front of her. She saw an older man, dressed in an official uniform, caught in a headlock by someone holding a gun to his head.
“Is that…James’s dad?” Marlene asked rhetorically. She knew exactly who it was, Minister Potter had helped raise her after all. Holy shit. The minister had a gun to his head. His attacker wore a nice suit, the type Marlene's dad liked to wear. He had long black hair, a sharp nose, and striking gray eyes.
“That's Sirius Black!” Someone shouted from the other side of the ship.
“Stay back!” Sirius cried at the guard who pointed their weapons at him and the Minister. “Stay back or I'll shoot! Close the door, let me go and no one gets hurt.”
The door began to close, slowly, groaning, as though it moved with great effort. This was it! Marlene's chance. She tore the restraints off of her and jumped up. She raced toward the door ignoring Remus’s calls for her. She bounded off the ship, praying the guards were too occupied with Sirius to notice her slipping out. She landed on the hangar floor, immediately beelining to the nearest vent. She ripped off the vent cover, pausing for just long enough to see Sirius settle into the seat she had just abandoned before shimmying into the cold dark space.
Marlene moved with practice, shifting her body back and forth like a worm, digging her elbows into the metal below her to propel herself along. She knew the vents like the back of her hand, having often explored them as a child with Dorcas. They were not the best children. Marlene crawled her way through the square tunnels. Left. Right. Right. Left Right. Left. Left. She reached the end.
Grunting, she kicked open the vent cover, not caring to check before if there had been anyone to witness her arrival. Luckily for her no one was around. She emerged to the familiar sight of Dorcas’s hallway. After replacing the vent cover she strolled over to Dorcas’s door.
She tested the handle just to be sure, though she'd guessed it would be open, Dorcas had enough confidence in her defensive abilities that she often left her doors unlocked. A challenge of sorts. Like Dorcas was saying ‘Try me.’
Marlene pushed the door open and closed it, locking it behind her. Dorcas looked up from the couch with…sadness? That wasn't very ‘Dorcas’ of her. The Dorcas Marlene knew was fiery, but this Dorcas seemed sad, and tired. Marlene's heart skipped a beat when her eyes met Dorcas’s. Fuck. No matter how sad she looked, Dorcas was still the most beautiful person in the universe.
Dorcas stood swiftly, crossing the room with a newfound determination. She hesitated two feet before she reached Marlene. Dorcas reached her hand up to Marlene's face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Marlene drew in a shaky breath, and then Dorcas was crashing into her.
They fell to the floor, and Dorcas cradling Marlene in her arms, her tears wetting Marlene's cheek. She took Marlene's face in her hands, lips touching every inch of it she could. Her eyes, her nose, her forehead, her lips. Then she encircled Marlene in her strong arms, burying her face in the crook of her neck.
“I thought you were dead.” Dorcas said, her voice muffled and cracking. “I thought I'd never see you again.” She sobbed at that, somehow pulling Marlene closer. Marlene stroked her hair, planting kisses on her girlfriend's temple.
“Yeah.” She said, “I thought I was dead there too for a moment.”