Intended

[fourteen]

In the corridors, Sirius tries not to stare back at people who stare at him. Everywhere, he can hear the whispers, still hovering around him even though an entire term has passed.

‘There he is… the only Black that wasn't sorted into Slytherin.'

‘D'you think the Sorting Hat made a mistake?'

‘Dunno.'

A shuffling sound from somewhere ahead distracts him, and he plunges his hand into his pocket to grab his wand. Instinct. Half-a-dozen spells are on the tip of his tongue as he peers around a corner.

He can see a tight circle of tall boys who have all drawn their hoods over their heads. They are laughing and Sirius can hear a pathetic whimper from somewhere within the circle, a thin voice rising in protest.

‘What was that, Mudblood?'

The speaker is a third-year, a third-year Slytherin with sallow skin, small shifty eyes that dart around and the last name of Lestrange. The voice is familiar to him; he has heard that boy speak so many times. Sometimes it was a simple conversation with his mother, sometimes it was in his father's study. Rodolphus or something of the sort, that's what his name is, and Sirius is suddenly reminded of a welcome cloak around his shoulders and he shivers as he darts out of sight.

He could just join these Slytherins… join them in their sport. It might even make them accept him.

Again, the small voice of before stammers out a reply.

‘B-but… wh-why are you d-doing this? What have I d- done?'

‘Nothing… except if you count the fact that Mudbloods like you exist. '

The boy mumbles and even though Sirius can't hear what is being said, he can hear the fear in it and the harsh laughter of everyone in the circle. It flows down the corridor and around Sirius, a stream of hostility that he's all too familiar with and he remembers the day after the Sorting, when they had surrounded him and pushed him to the ground because…

‘You're nothing but a pathetic little rat,' he hears someone jeer, another familiar voice, and he finds his palms damp and his hands shaking and his teeth clenched so tightly that his jaw is already beginning to ache. A wave of heat licks at him, rising, it seems from the very soles of his feet until his ears burn because he's tired of hearing the taunts, he's tired of the people who had once looked up to him grinding him and his pride into the dirt, he's just tired of everything he's seen.

He could join them in baiting the Mudblood, but he finds that he doesn't want to.

He's tired of watching his cousins lord it over everyone. He doesn't care whether it is Narcissa abusing her status as a sixth-year prefect to hand out humiliating detentions to students just because they committed the crime of not being sorted into Slytherin, or Bellatrix taking pleasure in watching as a group of older boys beat down a terrified Hufflepuff until he has injuries that he's too ashamed to report to the Hospital Wing for.

He's already tired of the Slytherins, and he's only been here two terms.

He's already tired of being a Black, just like Andromeda had told him he would.

A reckless fever comes over him; he can actually hear the boy pleading and the Slytherins laughing even louder and even as he wonders why no one around him does anything he finds his feet moving of their own accord. The others abandon their whispers and watch in wonder, scattering out of his way.

He is only a first-year, but he seems so much older, so much more imposing than other first-years. His wand is out and his jaw is set and he draws up his frame as he shouts.

‘Leave him alone!'

A couple of the boys in the circle glance up at him, bemused expressions on their faces. They are first-years, the young ones who have been taken along for the ride; he is not surprised to see one of them turning away and hiding his face, Snape's muffled voice coming forth from under the hood.

‘Look, if it isn't the Black Gryffindor!'

Sirius glares at them. The only girl amongst them looks at him from the far side of the circle, and he can see Bellatrix's heavy-lidded eyes and perpetual sneer lifting from the boy who is sprawled on the stone floor to his own face.

‘Aww, the ickle Gwyffindor's come to wescue his fwiend,' she coos malevolently, her mocking baby voice infuriating Sirius even more. Her wand is still pointing at the boy on the floor, controlling him, making him fall this way and that every time she moves her hands.

‘Let him go.'

‘Whatever you say, cousin,' she says, sneering, drawing up her wand so that the spell is broken. The small boy slumps over sideways, twitching, his eyes reflecting both terror and rage, but his body refusing to respond. Sirius starts forward, only to find himself pushed back, Bellatrix waving her wand in his face, a spell already rising on her lips.

‘Don't you even dare, Bella,' Sirius threatens in a low voice, and he brings his hand up so that his wand is pointing straight at his cousin, his eyes narrowed in the fury he's been itching to let go of for some time now. Bellatrix looks at him curiously, like she is regarding an object of mild interest, then throws her head back and laughs.

‘What are you going to do, dear cousin ?' she says slowly, her voice dripping with malicious intent. ‘ Flipendo me, perhaps? Or report me to my snivelling sister, Andromeda? She's another one who lacks proper Black pride… another one like you.'

Sirius struggles to keep his composure in the face of his arrogant cousin and her peers. His hand shakes as he tries to keep his wand steady and his eyes on hers, not willing to be the first to look away. He allows himself a small feeling of victory as he notices Bellatrix glancing about her, forcing her to turn her eyes away from him, but as he follows the motion the feeling disappears.

Most of the group around her are older students, a few third-years but mostly fourth and fifth-years…

Most probably know more curses individually than the whole of first-year put together.

Bellatrix smiles at the figure on the ground, and the boy gets to his knees, wispy straw hair all over his red face. He hopefully returns the smile, but Sirius has already seen her eyes twinkling, the corner of her mouth lifting into the familiar Black smirk and even as she kicks out at the boy on the floor, Sirius is ready. He clutches his wand tightly, his muscles tensing as he draws his arm back in a dueling stance as he has been taught; his arms, lips, feet move in one fluid motion as he lets the spell fly.

‘ Incendio!' he yells, the bluebell flames leaping from his wand and straight onto Bellatrix's robe. She tries to avoid it but it catches her just as she turns and suddenly the black erupts in a burst of fire. Abruptly the air is full of shouts and screams and curses; Sirius narrowly ducks as Bellatrix blasts off a hex, the words silent but the flash of white light hissing over his head and burning out as it hits the wall opposite.

‘Is that the best you can do?' he shouts, now smirking at the sight of the boys next to her trying to put out the fire that has leapt from Bellatrix's robes to their own. A couple of other people have joined in the dueling, firing off hexes at the Slytherins, and out of the corner of his eye, Sirius can see the small boy crawling away to safety, barely visible in the rising smoke. Just as he reaches the opposite wall, a burly fourth-year notices and gives chase, but this time the boy is ready.

‘ Flipendo!'

Sirius hears the bellow and dives out of the way, the jinx hitting the Slytherin boy and knocking him into the air. Two pairs of eyes glance at the falling body in both amusement and astonishment.

‘Who would have known?' Sirius hears the boy marvel. Now that he is closer, he can see his face properly and recognizes him as Peter Pettigrew, a fellow Gryffindor first year. He opens his mouth to say something, but Peter's eyes widen and Sirius whips around in time to see Bellatrix fire off another curse at him. This time he barely dodges it.

‘Sirius-‘

'Go!'

‘B-b-but Sirius-‘

‘Just go!' Sirius snarls over the fray, a little more viciously than he intends to, and the patter of Peter's feet is lost to him as he turns back to face the corridor battle.

‘ Reducto!'

‘Diffindo!' Sirius retaliates as he dodges the spell, and he lets out a short bark of a laugh as Bellatrix's robes split up the side and she fumbles to hold them shut. A wave of her wand repairs them, and she glowers at Sirius before ducking from another spell he shoots at her.

All the other action has stopped; teachers are descending upon the two duelers but even then, one throws out an arm to stop the others. All are watching the fight in spite of themselves, marveling at the cold grace each of the Blacks exudes. Both are beautifully and evenly matched, trained to the finest.

‘Stupefy!'

Sirius avoids the jet of red light, practically dancing away from it as best he can while he laughs.

‘Come on, you can do better than that!' he shouts, his voice echoing around the corridor.

Bellatrix glares at him, her eyes smoldering, even more than her robes, and she screeches a spell that echoes around them, bouncing off the roof and the walls like the various curses.

This time, Sirius isn't quick enough, and the spell hits him squarely in the chest. It knocks him off his feet and sends him flying into the wall behind him, his laughter still echoing, his eyes widening in surprise before he loses consciousness. He is not aware of the sickening thud as he crashes into the wall, or of his arm, bent at an unnatural angle beneath him, but when he wakes up in the hospital wing a week later, James tells him that most thought that it was kinder to keep him stunned until he had been tended to sufficiently.

‘… Pettigrew thought you were dead! The git actually ran all the way up to the common room, yelling… you should have seen him after you were brought in, he almost went hysterical! Lupin had to hold him back when they were bringing you in!'

‘It was that bad?' Sirius asks, gingerly touching the sore spot on the side of his head where it had smacked into the wall.

‘You were a sight, mate! That still didn't stop McGonagall from taking away points for use of magic in the corridors- she figures that it ought to become an official school rule before there's another war ,' James says, rolling his eyes but still smiling.

In spite of himself, Sirius grins back.

‘You've also got detention for a month, with Professor Kettleburn, but…' James pauses, and Sirius glances at him, puzzled. The look on James's face is both of hesitance and ill-concealed glee, with the latter finally winning out. ‘Bellatrix has to spend the rest of her year having detentions because of instigating first-year students and attacking you… you wouldn't believe it, but after Pettigrew had calmed down, he goes up to McGonagall and tells her that Bellatrix made the first move. Pity he neglected to mention that it wasn't with a wand…'

Sirius sighs happily and settles back against his pillows.

‘You know, there's only one thing that could make all this perfect… even if I don't think anyone's going to do it,' he says out loud, glancing at James with eyes full of mischief.

‘What?'

‘You think there's any chance that they'll feed Bellatrix to the giant squid?' he asks, and the two of them burst into laughter.

*