a faith forgotten land
Sirius was cold. Really, really cold. The night sky loomed above him, vast and unfriendly as he sat on the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place, the most miserable townhouse in all of London. He ached all over, and blood dribbled down his face from the cut above his eyebrow made by his father’s signet ring. He clung to the leather satchel slung over his bruised body. Small mercies.
If it could be considered a mercy that his mother hadn’t yanked the bag away from him before turning him out on the doorstep; cast out. Battered and beaten with nowhere to go. The worn stone of the step dug uncomfortably into his thighs, and the frigid air of the night wormed its way into his bones as he sat shivering. Each shudder wracked his body with pain, and he knew he couldn’t sit there much longer.
The was only one place he could think of going was to James’ house, except James’ house was a farmhouse, in the middle of absolutely fucking nowhere, in yorkshire. Sirius had never been further north than st Albans, and he had no phone number for James’ parents. But..
But he was cold, and sore, and he knew the name of the farm, and he had quite frankly no other choice, unless he wanted to be homeless at age sixteen and wander the streets of London before he died from exposure.
Groaning, Sirius stood and headed in the direction of King’s Cross Station. The first thing he did when he arrived was find a bathroom. A sorry sight stared back at him from the mirror of the disabled loo. His face was puffy and crusted with blood. His eyebrow was split, and a black eye was forming. His hair was falling out of the elastic he had twisted it into, and hung limp and straggly around his face. His shirt was ripped, his trousers dirty. He knew the minute he tried to approach anyone they would call the police on him. He cleaned himself up as best he could, wiping away blood with loo roll and using the antibacterial soap to scrub the blood stains out of his trousers.
Eventually, he was passable, and he went in search of the ticket office.
“Good evening, Sir. I’m terribly sorry to bother you, only I was just mugged and I could really do with some assistance.” Sirius put his best manners on for the grumpy looking man sat in the ticket office, lying about being mugged in the hopes that it would explain his injuries.
“Where do you need to go?” the man asked, gruff and uninterested. He didn’t even see if Sirius needed medical assistance, which Sirius thought was spectacularly rude.
“Potter hall farm. It's in Yorkshire, only I’m not really sure where.” Sirius said, and the man rolled his eyes, before pulling out a massive tome, which looked like a sort-of yellow pages. The man consulted the tome for hours, flicking through the pages slowly, licking his forefinger and thumb to turn each once. Sirius wanted to strangle him.
“The next train to Hogsmeade leaves in an hour. Someone’ll be awake there to tell you how to get to the farm. Tickets are £35.” Sirius nearly sobbed with relief. He pulled out a wad of crumpled notes that he had been squirrelling away for weeks, and passed the man the money and received a little orange and yellow square of cardboard in return. Clutching it in his pale, shaking hands, Sirius made his way to the platform.
He was woken up by the thunderous sound of a train approaching the platform, and Sirius leapt up off the frozen metal bench he had been dozing on. The train slowly came to a stop, as the conductor announced “the train now approaching platform thirteen is the 02:34 train to york.” The conductor then listed all the stations the train would pass through, and Hogsmeade came almost at the end of the list.
Too tired to feel any fear or anxiety, Sirius clambered onto the train and located a table around which was grouped four chairs. He sat next to the window, cradling his satchel close to his chest, and stared out of the window. In the blackness, all he could see was his own face reflected back at him. His face was gaunt, his skin yellowing, deep purple crescent moons under his eyes. He’d seen healthier looking corpses.
**
The air felt like a blanket of ice as Sirius stepped off the train onto the tiny platform of Hogsmeade station. The large clock embedded in the red brick station building told him it was nearing five in the morning, and the sky had gone from peat black to a watery grey, like gruel. Sirius stepped into the station building, and saw there was a woman sitting in the single ticket booth, dressed in a crisp white button down and little blue ‘national rail’ cap, and he slowly made his way over to her. Over the course of the journey many of his bruises had developed, and he knew he looked worse than he did when he left london. He hoped he wouldn’t scare her.
“Excuse me?” he said hesitantly, standing a safe distance from the booth window.
“Alreet, pet? What happened to your fine face?” the woman asked, her accent shocking Sirius, who had never experienced a northen accent before.
“I uh, got mugged in London. I was hoping you could help me get to Potter Hall farm?”
“Aye, that I can. Our Frank’s driving tha’ way round six-ish for deliveries. In t’ meantime youse can stay with me. And I’ll get thee some arnica for the bruisin’.” the woman stood and disappeared for a moment, before a near-invisible door cut into the wall opened and she beckoned him in. her face was round and kind, and Sirius felt all his muscles relax, and the tendrils of anxiety curling in his stomach lessened. He followed her through to what must be the staff break room, letting her sit him down on an aged, decrepit sofa, and fuss over his face, rubbing arnica gel into the sore spots with gentle fingers.
“You have a nap now, pet, and I’ll let thee know when our Frank arrives.” she said.
“What's your name?” Sirius asked as he lay down, fingers holding onto the clasp of his satchel in a deathgrip.
“Pomona, lovie. What's yours?”
“Sirius.” he replied, eyelids already heavy, sleep tugging at his mind. Whatever she said in response was lost to him as he slipped into oblivion.
He was awoken by a gentle shake to the shoulder, and for a few disorienting moments he couldn’t remember the events of the night before, but then as his eyes focussed on Pomona’s kind face, it all came rushing back- the beating, the train, the fact that he was in fucking yorkshire.
Fuck.
Sirius scrubbed his face and sat up, yawning.
“Alreet, lovie? Our Frank’s here, an’ he’ll take you in his van to t’farm.” Pomona said, taking Sirius out of the station and onto the street. The sun had fully risen by now, and Sirius could see that Hogsmeade was a quaint little village. The houses he could see were all squat little cottages, with window boxes full of flowers and little statues of dogs guarding the front doors.
A slightly dented but gleaming white van sat idling in the street, with a young boy sat in the driver's seat, with a mop of brown hair nearly covering his eyes.
“Hiya, Frank. This here lad wants to get to Potter Hall Farm. you don’t mind dropping him of for us do ya?” Pomona asked, a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time an adult touched him like that- gently, because they liked him.
“Thank you, Pomona, for all your help.” Sirius said, hoping his feeble words could convey the depth of his gratitude.
“Don’t mention it.” Pomona said, smiling, pushing a small paper bag into Sirius’ hands.
“Yeah, alreet. Hop in then.” the boy said, seeming bored. Sirius opened the door to the passenger side of the cab and climbed in. He opened the bag and saw it was full of breakfast pastries. Now faced with food, Sirius also couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten properly. He thought it was maybe the day before, but he wasn’t sure.
“You look like you need tha’.” Frank said, jerking his chin at the bag. “Eat all you want, but try not to get crumbs, or my da will go crazy at us.”
“Thanks.” Sirius said, before digging in.
“What happened to your face?” Frank asked as he started up the engine.
“Got mugged.” Sirius grunted, and Frank clearly took the hint that Sirius didn’t wish to speak about it and didn’t ask any more questions about it, instead focussing on steering the van through the narrow streets of Hogsmeade.
“So. do youse go to that dead posh school Jamie goes to?” Frank asked about ten minutes into the drive. They had well cleared the village, and Sirius was surrounded by countryside. In the fields that blanketed the countryside, horses and cows and sheep grazed and lazed about, and birds soared overhead.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I do. James’ is my best mate.” Sirius said, jolted out of his daydreaming.
“Oh, aye, he’s of a good sort.” Frank nodded, before the two of them lapsed into silence again.
In about another ten minutes, the van crested a hill, and nestled in the valley below, Sirius could see a collection of buildings.
“Tha’ there is t’farm.” Frank said, gesturing to the buildings. “We’ll be there in no time. I’m sure monty’s awake, but he might be out in the fields.”
Sirius just nodded. He had no idea how farms worked. In fact, when James’ had first told him he lived on a farm Sirius had naively assumed he meant he lived on an estate with lots of land like many of the other rich wankers at their private boarding school. He hadn’t really realised before that James meant a working farm.
Frank dropped Sirius off a stone’s throw from the farm house, which was large, but looked like it had seen better days. Sirius’ panic set in properly as he approached the door. He went to knock, but it just swung open under his fist, creaking as it did so.
“James, is that you?” came a voice that Sirius knew to be Effie’s. “James? Don’t you be tracking mud into my house again, you wretched boy.” her voice was so full of care and fondness, and Sirius remembered how his mother had been the last time he interacted with her, and he froze in the doorjamb.
“James?” the sound of footsteps came, and suddenly Effie was standing in front of him. She was dressed in a casual salwar kameez, the garment an elegant turquoise that gently hugged her body.
“Good god, Sirius. What happened to you? How did you get here? Does your mother know you’re here? Jesus Christ, come in, come in!” Effie was talking a mile a minute and Sirius couldn’t process any of her questions, so he stayed silent as she gently took him by the arm and led him inside. She brought him into a spacious kitchen, and sat him down on the end of a large trestle table lined with two benches.
Effie was muttering under her breath as she set about doing something at the stove, and Sirius lost himself in his mind, listening to her indecipherable muttering.
“Drink this.” she said, coming to sit opposite him and pushing a large steaming mug at him. He wrapped his cold fingers around the mug and let his skin soak up the warmth. He took a sip, and it was the sweetest, creamiest hot chocolate he had ever tasted. He took another sip, and another, and soon enough the mug was empty. Effie just stared at him.
“How did you get here?” Effie asked, quietly.
“Train.” Sirius said. He gripped the mug in his hands to stop them shaking. The fear that Effie would send him straight home drenched him like a tidal wave.
“Overnight?” she asked, and Sirius nodded.
“Have you slept? Eaten?” Sirius shook his head.
“Okay. Okay. Okay.” Effie repeated the word to herself, before rising and gesturing to Sirius to follow her. She led him up the stairs, and into a spacious room with a large, unmade bed and a dresser. The room was bare, with another door on the wall opposite to Sirius.
“Through that door is a bathroom. I will run you a bath, and whilst you bathe I will make up the bed for you, and you can sleep as long as you need. Then we’ll decide what to do.” Effie said, ever practical, her hands on her ample hips.
The last sentence broke something in Sirius.
“Don’t- don’t make me go back, please Effie you can’t make me go back there, you can’t, you can’t. I won’t go. I’d rather die than go back there, you can’t make me-” Great, heaving sobs tore themselves from Sirius’ chest, and he found himself being wrapped up in strong arms, his face shoved into a soft chest. He cried, and cried, and cried, as Effie held him, rubbing his back in soothing circles.
Eventually, he calmed down enough to pull back, and saw dark patches of tears and snot across Effie’s front.
“Well. I hadn’t even considered sending you back there, so don’t you worry. You’re one of my boys, Sirius. You have been since the day I met you as a scrawny little eleven year old.” Effie smiled at him sadly, cupping his face with one of her hands, the metal of her rings cool against his overheated skin.
“Let me draw you a bath, and when you wake up we can discuss what to do, but regardless of what we decide, you are staying here, with us. Okay?”
“Okay.” Sirius mumbled, feeling embarrassed by his emotional outburst. He sat on the closed lid of the loo as Effie filled the small enamel tub with steaming hot water, and poured all manner of scented soaps and oils in. She left him there to soak, and as he stepped into the bath and felt the scalding water sooth his bruises, he heard her humming and moving around in the room behind the door.
Sirius closed his eyes as silent tears dripped onto his cheeks. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them, tucking his body in tight. He tried to rest his cheek atop his knees, but pain bloomed across his face, so he tilted it back to stare at the ceiling instead. He stayed in the bath until the water went cold.
When the shivering re-ignited his aching muscles, Sirius accepted defeat and eased his stiff body out of the bath. There were fluffy towels waiting for him on a hot radiator and it felt like wrapping himself up in a warm hug. Once dry, he shuffled into the bedroom, and found a pile of folded clothes on the edge of the bed. They were clearly James’ pyjamas, and they hung off Sirirus’ body alarmingly. He hadn’t realised how much weight he’d lost during his time spent at home. Rolling over the waist band of the thick flannel pyjama bottoms a few times so they wouldn’t fall off his hips, Sirius clambered into bed and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of clean linen and sandalwood that reminded him so much of James. Despite the warm clothes and the heavy duvet, the cold of the night before felt like it had sunk into his bones, and Sirius tucked himself into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest in an effort to warm himself up. The wound above his eyebrow throbbed and pulsed, and each surge of pain seemed to roll around his skull, and the last thing Sirius thought before he fell asleep was whether the scar would ruin the shape of his eyebrow or not.
When Sirius awoke for the second time that day, he was in darkness. A glimpse at the window showed someone had come in and drawn the curtains whilst he was asleep. He turned his head slightly, and came face to face with James, splayed out on his back, fast asleep. He was surprised that James’ entry didn’t wake him up, but the sight of his best friend asleep in the bed with him filled Sirius with warmth that poured through the cracks in his broken heart, and Sirius fell back asleep with a smile on his face, even though it hurt.