❝ FOR FREEDOM.
FOR T R U T H.
AND FOR LOVE. ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍.
1978. Where a squib and a mischief-maker cross
paths at the crux of a war that would eventually
tear apart everything - and everyone - they...
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Hogwarts. 7:00 pm
A CACOPHONY OF voices erupted at the sight of him.
"Hallelujah!"
"He's alive!"
"Where have you been?"
"Don't tell me sneaked off to the Three Broomsticks without me, Padfoot!"
"Can you, just for a day, not break a dozen school rules?"
"Let him live a little, Evans?"
"Oi! Did I hear Potter correctly? You went to Hogsmeade, mate?"
"How'd you do that?"
"Forget them. Did you get me some jellies? I told you to get me some the next-"
"Are you ever going to be on time for something?"
"Don't fling your bag like that. Jesus!"
"No, the name's Sirius," the boy panted as he slid into his seat beside James. "Sorry, McKinnon, didn't poke your eye out with the bag, did I?"
Marlene McKinnon glared at him then turned back to her doe-eyed friend, Susan Ollerton. Or was it Sarah Ollerton?
Sirius found that he didn't care. She might have been the Singing Sorceress Celestina Warbeck herself, for all he cared. His eyes moved to the Slytherin table, seemingly of their own accord; Regulus was busy shoveling his dinner while Silas Nott kept whispering to him. A fresh wave of anger washed over him at the sight.
Gritting his teeth, Sirius reached for a glass pitcher nearby and poured himself a goblet of cold water.
"Did I miss anything?" he asked distractedly, mumbling a thanks to Peter who laddled a hearty serving of mashed potatoes onto Sirius' plate.
"Nah," replied James, pushing a plate of chicken drumsticks towards Sirius who piled some before him, "It's been boring as usual. And surprise, surprise. Dumbledore's not here again."
Sirius glanced up at the teachers table, and sure enough, the Head Master's seat remained empty. Sirius had occasionally seen the old man at breakfast these past couple of weeks, but more often than not, Dumbledore's chair remained unoccupied.
Sirius reached for the basket of bread, buttering it rather aggressively.
"What d'you reckon he's up to? Hasn't been around much this year, has he?" remarked James.
