Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter 1 - Garden Rebellion

It was a sunny, breezy day; the wind rustled the branches of the towering trees. Leaves were twirling lightly in the air, some landing on the grass and others on the teenage boy sprawled out on the stone bench below. The bench was composed of grey granite and an elaborate family crest was engraved on the front. The teenage boy had dark hair falling casually over his eyes, appearing elegant without any effort. One could go on to describe the exact shade of the boy's grey eyes or his well defined body or his charming smile, but it all came down to one undeniable fact - the boy was very good-looking.

The young man had his eyes closed, his breathing relaxed, and he appeared not to expect a disturbance anytime soon.

"Sirius Black."

The voice was female, young, and did not belong to any of the boy's relatives; and only this combination could persuade Sirius to open his eyes and acknowledge the person in front of him.

"Leila Yaxley."

"I thought you were ill."

Sirius regarded the young woman with casual detachment, seemingly aloof to her beauty. Leila Yaxley was indeed beautiful, angelic features and brown hair cascading down her shoulders; her dress robes fit in all the right places.

Fifteen-year-old Sirius had enough experience dealing with attractive girls that he was able to look Leila straight in the eyes without betraying any hint of desire on his side.

"Precautionary measure. I would have been sick if I had to spend another moment with any of my relatives."

Sirius knew why the Yaxley's were visiting; why they'd brought along their daughter under the pretense that she was visiting Narcissa, Sirius's cousin. It wasn't even a very well thought out cover since Narcissa was five years Leila's and Sirius's senior. Sirius's nerves were already on the last string, having stayed over at his aunt's and uncle's manor over the past few days.

"You might want to find another hiding place. My father, your uncle, your aunt, your father, and your brother are headed this way."

"Are they?" Sirius asked vaguely, unconcerned. He sat up.

"Your uncle kept prattling on about some statue out in the garden that's been in the Black family for generations, rumored to be a gift from Salazar Slytherin. Of course my father demanded to see it."

"Oh, it's over there." Sirius pointed to his left. "It's a statue of some famous witch, but it's so old, it really isn't impressive looking."

"I was upset to hear you were ill," Leila said softly. The statue held little interest to her.

"Were you?"

"Come now. You know why I'm here. Let's not pretend."

"I do know."

With one quick motion Sirius was on his feet a few centimeters from Leila, and he noticed with satisfaction that his sudden closeness caused her to blush. Over Leila's shoulder Sirius could see his father, relatives, and Mr. Yaxley approaching. Perhaps if the circumstances had been different Sirius would have considered dating Leila...

The approaching group was now near enough and Sirius leaned in to kiss Leila full on the mouth. He expected some resistance on Leila's part, but she returned the kiss with enthusiasm. His left hand slowly trailed down on her waist, as low as he dared venture, the other hand began slowly unclasping the top buttons of her dress robe.

There was a rushing sound and they were blasted apart, both knocked onto the ground. Druella Black, Sirius's aunt, was helping Leila to her feet; both women looked completely mortified. As Sirius picked himself off the ground, he came face to face with the enraged Derek Yaxley, his wand pointed at Sirius's chest. Sirius would have liked nothing more than to draw his own wand on the pudgy balding man. Except the privilege of carrying a wand had been taken away from him by his mother, just as it had since that summer after his first year; locked away in her desk only to be returned if Sirius needed it for a summer lesson or when Hogwarts started up again.

"Now Derek, please-" Cygnus Black, Sirius's uncle had stepped up next to Mr. Yaxley.

"I will not calm down! Your nephew was mauling my daughter!"

"She hardly seemed to mind," Orion Black, Sirius's father, remarked.

"Dear Merlin - I will not - you will not -" Mr. Yaxley spluttered in indignation.

Orion continued, "No harm was done and seeing as to why you are here, it certainly isn't undesirable...makes our lives easier."

"Let us go inside. Sit down for a cup of tea," Druella fluttered. They were all very eager to separate Sirius from the Yaxleys.

Sirius's aunt linked arms with Leila, leading her towards the house. Sirius was watching this all still a bit dazed from the kiss. She certainly wasn't as innocent as her father thought. Leila had known exactly what she had been doing with that mouth of hers.

Cygnus nodded to Derek, who looked as if somehow he'd been tricked, yet followed them back inside. Moments later Sirius was left with only his younger brother, Regulus, who had stayed silent throughout the whole ordeal. Regulus was two years younger, slighter in size, same dark hair and eyes as his elder brother, though less defined. These slight dissimilarities made all the difference; Regulus was not nearly as handsome.

"Feeling better?" Regulus asked.

"Much," Sirius replied with a grin.

"You're mad...if you think Mr. Yaxley will let you near his daughter ever again..."

"Such a shame...as you can see, I am overcome with misery."

Regulus narrowed his eyes. "You're an idiot. What if the next girl mother and father match you up with is a troll?"

"I'll marry who I choose."

"You'll marry who mother and father decide. You know you will. It's how things are, Sirius. Fight it all you want, but in the end, you'll do as you are told."

Sirius opened his mouth to retort. He was the first Black in Gryffindor after all - if anyone could change tradition, it was him. He stopped himself because he saw his mother hurling down the path toward them. It was impressive that she still kept her regal air, even while practically foaming at the mouth in anger.

Walburga planted herself in front of her eldest; she was no longer significantly taller than Sirius. Walburga brought her hand up and slapped her son on the cheek with all her strength.

"How dare you!" She whacked him once more in the same area. Sirius stood stiffly, his body taut; he'd already prepared himself for his mother's reaction. He had already decided that asserting himself - making it clear to his parents that they would rule no aspect of his future and that included marriage - in this way was worth any consequence.

It wasn't as if Sirius hadn't been hit before; usually it was one of their home school teachers or nannies - only when the transgression was severe or repeated too often, did his father and mother deliver the corporal punishment. Divvying out punishments was really the only thing Walburga gave leeway on with her children's caregivers. She kept Sirius and Regulus on a tight leash, dictating every minute of their day, so that their nannies and teachers could not allow their charges a moment of recess without express permission from Mrs. Black.

His cheek stinging, humiliated even though only his brother had been privy to the slap, Sirius lashed out in the only way he could, with words. "There's no need for dramatics, Mother. How does Mr. Yaxley expect us to produce lots of little heirs if I'm not to touch his precious daughter?"

"Insolent child! Enough of this. You will start behaving. I will not have any more excuses that you are young, that you are at an age that you are trying to assert yourself, that this is merely a stage you are going through. You will go inside; you will apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Yaxley for your rudeness, for needlessly upsetting them. You will keep your eyes downcast. You will not so much as glance in Miss Yaxley's direction. Then you will go upstairs, the door will be locked behind you. You will be dealt with tomorrow afternoon when we return home, severely dealt with, Sirius."

"Yes, Mother." There was not an ounce of respect in Sirius's voice. The contempt he held for his family had grown each year since he'd been first sorted into Gryffindor - that first rebellion hadn't been entirely intentional. It had been with slight hope that he'd placed the Sorting Hat on his head for a placement other than Slytherin.

Even as a small child, Sirius had always questioned things; reasons for rules, reasons for memorizing family trees, reasons for why he couldn't play with Muggles. Obedience was one of the cardinal rules of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black; noncompliance was swiftly dealt with. Sirius's parents had gotten close to taming him, suppressing his mischievous nature with endless hours of rewriting lines, memorizing names - combined with punishment when he stepped a little out of line.

At Hogwarts Sirius had met James Potter, a boy's whose childhood was so different from his own, parents who spoiled him, allowed him to do what he choose. James's day to day routine was rarely planned out - let alone his entire life. A few months of sharing a dorm with James and Sirius started to loosen up and become more carefree. They had befriended two other boys, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew forming their tightly knit group. His parents had instilled many ideas in his head about pure-bloods, blood-traitors, Muggle-borns, and Muggle filth. At first Sirius had disagreed with his parents' views and doctrines just for the sake of disagreeing, but over the years he learned how wrong their facts were. He had found that loyalty could be given without resorting to threats, real friendship could not be bought, and most importantly that the person you were mattered more than purity of blood.

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"It was wrong of you, my dear, to force Sirius to apologize to Derek Yaxley." Orion's voice floated through the door reaching where Sirius stood. He'd been called down to his father's office and he was not eager to enter it. As usual Orion's tone was cool as ice, no emotion in the words, only hardness; the 'my dear' not a form of endearment, but a claim of ownership over his wife.

"Wrong of me?" Walburga's voice was high, shrill and condescending. There was little point in Walburga bothering to keep emotion out of her voice when she was so high tempered.

"Yes," Orion snapped. "Yaxleys are below the Blacks. Sirius was the best match Derek could have hoped for his daughter. There was no need to further our family's humiliation by that apology."

"No need? Did you not see how upset Derek was? He would have left; any further contact between our families lost!"

"It would have been no loss. Why is it that my wife holds the Yaxleys in such high regard?"

"I do not. I was merely trying to rein in our son. Do not tell me you condone his actions?"

"You have made it into a larger deal than any of it was. Did you notice how Derek allows his daughter to dress in public? Those robes could hardly have been cut lower. Sirius behaved as any other teenage boy would have."

"Is that what you think?" Walburga laughed dryly. "You do not know Sirius at all. He was solely trying to thwart our matchmaking. Any attraction at all towards the girl was simply an added advantage."

A calloused rough hand suddenly grasped Sirius by the arm. Kreacher, the house-elf, was pushing him into his father's study.

"Mistress, Master, Kreacher found Master Sirius listening at the door."

Walburga regarded Sirius coldly. "Thank you, Kreacher. Dismissed."

Sirius bowed, clasping his hands behind his back, head down slightly. He was skating on thin ice; he saw no reason to anger them further by not following the usual courtesies. His Uncle Alphard was always on him to 'choose his battles' and it was advice when it came to authority, Sirius had trouble following.

"Lying that you were sick, violating a young girl, eavesdropping on your mother and father. What is next, Sirius? Will you be plundering stores, starting brawls in the street?"

Sirius knew better than to answer.

"Do you have anything to say, Sirius? In your defense?"

"I'm not marrying Leila Yaxley or any other -"

"See, Orion?" Her eyes were glowing manically; almost as if she wanted to be right, wanted to believe the worst about her son. "He was conniving against his own family; against the best interest of the Blacks."

"I will marry who I want!"

"Sirius, you will marry who we say." His father's voice cut through Sirius's words.

"No! You cannot force me to-"

"Marriage is not a liberty. It most certainly should not be left for the young to decide." Sirius's further protests and the stance he had tried to make were dismissed. His father was like that, barely recognizing Sirius's acts of rebellions, as if Sirius was only play acting. Somehow this was worse than his mother's outbursts and her yelling, ranting, and raving. She took everything he did personally, as if he were attacking the foundation of the Black family and her very soul. Sirius hoped that because it affected her so deeply that somewhere inside of her, there was the slightest possibility his mother cared about him; just him and not because he was heir and a carrier of the family name.

"Now let us decide on a suitable punishment."

Walburga had obviously been waiting for this moment; she wasted not a second with her idea. "We should not allow him to visit the Potters."

This was the one thing Sirius had been dreading. Knowing he had an escape from his family for a seven full days was the only way he kept sane at times. The Potters were well-connected and though had blood-traitor tendencies, were well liked and respected. By using all those advantages, the Potters had convinced, or more likely coerced, Orion and Walburga to allow Sirius a week each summer to visit James.

"That is unworkable. You and I will be away at the conference that week. We've already arranged for Regulus to stay over my brother's and his wife made it clear she will not take Sirius as well. What would we do with him?"

"Take Sirius with us. The company will be beneficial."

The 'conference' his parents were talking about was a meeting of the oldest pure-blood families, who sympathized with 'the cause.' The conference would be full of cocktail parties, elaborate dinners, and balls, all in hopes to persuade these families to publicly support and donate money to 'the cause.'

'The cause,' in the simplest terms, was about purifying all the magical bloodlines. There were multiple areas of 'the cause' and disagreements were beginning to rise about how far was too far. Should they simply lobby for a law only allowing pure-bloods to apply for the highest level jobs in the Ministry, or go as far as getting rid of the Statute of Secrecy, and enslaving the Muggles? Sirius had overheard his relatives discussing this very predicament. It was all headed by an elusive man named Lord Voldemort. This sort of movement had sprung up before over the generations, and only over the last few months was the general population realizing things were getting serious, deadly serious.

"No. It is not a place for a boy. Let us not forget, we have the meddlesome Potters to deal with as well. They will cause us trouble, perhaps dig into things we do not want unearthed, if the boy does not show up healthy and well on their doorstep. I can bring him to work with me over the next few days. He will step into my shoes eventually and I'm sure Sirius will find it all sufficiently boring. That shall serve as his punishment."

"Fine," Walburga said. Her husband's tone had finality to it and though she was not completely convinced, it was not her place to argue further.

There was a pop and Kreacher was back.

"What is it?" she demanded. It was, after all, the wife's duty to deal with house-elves. Kreacher's face was contorted in a strange grimace and Sirius realized, with a jolt, it was gleeful.

"Kreacher is cleaning, Mistress. Kreacher is in Master Sirius's room." Kreacher paused shivering slightly in the excitement of his revelation. Sirius saw the snide look the house-elf threw at him. "Oh, Mistress must come see!"

Sirius kept his expression undaunted and indifferent, for once thankful for all those childhood lessons on keeping your emotions masked that his father had drilled into him and Regulus.

"Do you have a confession, son?" Walburga stared straight at Sirius. He flinched a fraction, his heart rate increased, but he did not speak. Sirius knew Kreacher had discovered his new wallpaper 'decoration.' His walls were now covered in Gryffindor banners and Muggle pictures. Sirius had been lucky it had taken so long to be discovered. He did want it to be exposed eventually, he'd done it to rile them obviously; he was just waiting for the best moment to unveil it. If he had a choice in the matter, today would have not been it; not with his mother's temper so close to boiling point already. He wished Kreacher had not decided today to disobey his order of staying out of his room. The house-elf would have to punish itself later for it. Kreacher had never taken to Sirius as he had to Regulus.

Walburga threw Sirius a withering look. She chose not to force her son to answer, and instead strode out of the office; her footsteps could be heard resounding through the house.

"Go on to your room. Tell your mother if punishment is needed she may deal with you in any way she sees fit. I have business to attend to. I have no more time to deal with your misbehavior."

"Yes, sir." He bowed before leaving the room. His mother was already quite red in the face by the time he reached her. She was attempting to pull the poster of a motorcycle from his wall. Sirius's interest in this Muggle contraption had first begun when a Gryffindor girl in his year had brought back photos from her trip to France. She'd taken dozens of pictures of who she considered to be 'gorgeous foreigners' on or near motorcycles.

It was love at first sight. Motorcycles were fast and dangerous - just they way Sirius wished to live his life. Live for the moment and don't look back. It was a perfect symbol of his rebellion.

"Permanent sticking charm, I see. Undo it, Sirius."

"I can't."

Knowing his wand would be taken the moment he returned home, Sirius had enlisted his mates for help. They'd researched ways to delay the effect of a spell, as well non-magical methods to activate. In the end all Sirius had to do was sprinkle the back of the pictures with water and press the item firmly on the wall.

"You can borrow my wand. You will vanquish this filth from your walls."

"I can't, Mother. I didn't cast the spell so even if I wanted to..."

"Who cast it then?" His mother was spitting the words out in rage.

It had been Remus, but seeing the anger burning in his mother's eyes; his mother already had an unnatural interest in Sirius's half-blooded friend. The Lupins were a lower middle class family and were sitting ducks if a Black went after them.

"James," Sirius lied.

"Potter!"

The Potters were at least safe from the vengeance of his mother.

Walburga jabbed a finger at one of the bikini clad Muggle girls Sirius had hung. "Is this the filth you want to breed with?"

Sirius had no intention of doing anything with these girls, but look at them. His mother didn't have to know that though.

"Yes. Why not? They have good genes." [Author ID1: at Thu Oct 18 23:24:00 2007 ]

He knew the reference to Muggles in any positive fashion would flip his mother out.

"You dare defile this house. You dare dishonor your family. You want to talk of genes, of breeding, of blood?"

Sirius certainly did not want to discuss of any of those things. He scolded himself for even bringing up the subject.

"Let us talk of your genes, of your breeding and of your blood. You cannot hide from your family's history. It is part of who you are. You think it was by accident that we came into money and authority? You can disapprove of the Dark Arts and pure-blood idealism all you want - but remember this: because generations of Blacks aligned themselves with those principles is the reason our family is this powerful and the reason you have all those privileges that you are ungrateful for." The controlled fury in her words un-footed Sirius. He had wanted to leave his family with a permanent reminder that he was a Gryffindor and proud of his house. Seeing the anger in his mother's eyes, he wondered for the first time if it would be worth it. "You will go now to the playroom. You will do lines until your fingers cramp, until your hands are so raw they bleed. With every word you write you will remember what being a true, proud Black means. Toujours pur, Sirius, remember it well. "

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It had been ages since any recreation had been completed in the Black family's 'playroom.' It was in this room Sirius and Regulus had received their lessons before Hogwarts and where punishments were usually served. And it was in the playroom, one night before, Sirius had spent hours and hours writing out passages from books members of his family had written full of pure-blood propaganda, and also the Black family code. His mother had been correct. Sirius certainly did think of his family with each word he'd painstakingly written in perfect script. Once again forced to see the truth, reminded that the whole lot of them had been Dark Art loving blood purists and completely crazy. Times like this he was not proud to be a Black; his punishment having the complete opposite effect of what his mother had sought.

He missed his friends. He wanted to be back in school where none of this rubbish mattered. In Hogwarts he was surrounded by friends who liked him despite of all the faults his parents would list whenever given a chance. His world at Hogwarts was filled with friendship and laughter; his world at home with family obligations and formality. Two very different worlds that constantly clashed with each other; there were so many instances he was in trouble at home because of something he'd pulled with his friends, yet he needed these friends, the mischief they played, to stay strong.

Of course Sirius was capable of getting in trouble on his own without any help from his friends. Right now he was getting ready to serve his punishment for just such a thing -kissing Leila in his aunt's and uncle's garden. They had arrived at the Ministry of Magic via one of the spacious fireplace-like portals. The moment Sirius and his father stepped out numerous witches and wizards were Apparating behind them bustling by in a hurry. Sirius was dressed in stiff formal robes. The robes themselves weren't stiff; made of the finest fabric; it was that Sirius felt stiff in them. They made him feel constrained, as if he had to act snobbish and like his father when wearing them.

Sirius's father worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, level two of the Ministry. Orion Black had an important, cushioned job - with a lot of power and little actual responsibility. Orion spent most of his time ensuring that matters and ideas he considered important -that were in his self-interest- were being dealt with, and doing all he could to prevent anything that did not benefit pure-bloods, even when it didn't overlap with his Department.

Sirius noticed a lot of the wizards and wizards greeted his father in a hurried manner, eyes never quite meeting Orion's and these people never so much as glanced at Sirius. Clearly they were wary of his father and by Orion's demeanor, Sirius knew he expected this sort of royal treatment in the halls of his work from those he deemed inferior. Once they actually entered inside the area where his father's office was located, quite a few wizards (no witches) approached them; these men shook his father's hand and were very interested in Sirius and why he was present.

"Blimey, is that your son?" The words came from an overly enthusiastic twenty-something year old carrying a black leather-bound book.

"Yes, this is Sirius. Sirius, this is my assistant, Greg." There was a distinct emphasis on assistant and Greg did not miss it because he sobered up quickly giving Sirius a formal nod.

"I've an important meeting to attend to."

"Yes, yes, sir! In the Harper room. I was hoping-"

"Greg, I'll need you to look after my son."

"After your son? The meeting, sir, I thought-"

"There'll be other meetings. Sirius needs supervision. Set him up in my office. Have him write out neatly my itinerary for the month; he's underage, no magic."

"This may be out of line, sir, but one of your secretaries could do that with a swish of her wand."

"If I want your opinion I'll ask for it. I want my son to handwrite it. It will familiarize Sirius with the sort of responsibilities and names of people I deal with."

"Very good, sir. This way, Sirius."

Sirius mentally prepared himself for what was sure to be a monotonously boring day. He was already sick of lines in general from the other punishment. He never wanted to see a quill and parchment ever again. This busy work was, however, the better alternative to being brought to the meeting.

Orion's office was medium sized and only minimally decorated. The only personal adornment was the Black Family crest that hung on the wall. Greg did not sit Sirius at his father's large ebony desk with the comfortable leather chair, but at the smaller desk with the wooden chair. Sirius had a feeling this was the desk Greg used. Greg tonelessly explained Sirius the task, handing him the messily written appointment book he was to copy neatly. Greg looked miserable at being reduced to a mere babysitter. It had probably taken him years to work up to the position he now held

"I need to - fetch- something," Greg stated nervously. He'd been pacing the room watching Sirius's slow progress.

"I won't run off," Sirius said.

"Hmmm," Greg murmured. He did not sound reassured, but whatever pressing matter must have been important. As soon as he was alone, Sirius threw down his quill. He hadn't been lying; he wasn't going to run off, but that didn't mean he'd do actual work either.

There were two windows in the office, the curtains both drawn, Sirius stood walking toward it, wanting to open it. Let in some light. His father and mother kept Grimmauld Place in semi-darkness most of the time. Sirius wrenched it open only to find it was - raining?

"Enchanted windows," a voice drawled. "If they are having a gloomy day, it seems we all must suffer."

Sirius turned to see Lucius Malfoy, engaged to his cousin Narcissa, entering the room.

"Sirius, it's simply splendid to see you."

"Lucius, how are you?" Sirius said with forced politeness.

"Busy. Very busy. Where is your father?"

"A meeting."

"I must speak with him, but it can wait. It is a happy coincidence to bump into you. Going into fifth year now?"

"Yes."

"From what Severus tells me, I wouldn't get high hopes on being made prefect."

"You still speak to Snivellus?" Sirius asked with a laugh. Snape was the same age as Sirius and in Slytherin; a slimy, greasy haired boy, who was famous in school for his interest in the Dark Arts. Simply put, Sirius and James did not get along with Snape. They had clashed with Snape on their very first day on the train to Hogwarts, and their dislike had grown exponentially over the years.

"Talented boy - sadly though his blood is lacking. Useful though."

"No one could pay me enough to accept the position of prefect."

"You'll have to grow out of your troublemaking tendencies eventually. No matter, though, you still have all the qualifications they are looking for."

"They?" He'd taken the bait.

"A group I am acquainted with."

"Death Eaters?"

"Splendid. You've heard of them?"

Who hadn't, unless you were locked away in a broom closet? Voldemort, the man who headed the 'the cause' was also assumed to be leader of the Death Eaters. The term 'Death Eaters' had begun sneaking into more and more stories in the Daily Prophet over the past year - all suspiciously related to the mysterious disappearances and murders; and thus in more and more daily conversations.

"Voldemort's lackeys? Yes, I've heard of them."

"Lord Voldemort or the Dark Lord, if you prefer," corrected Lucius. "Show some respect, boy."

"He's done nothing to earn my respect."

"He is finally doing what our ancestors started long ago. Protecting the interest of pure-bloods. Ensuring our survival - that our traditions and laws will stay intact - not diluted by filth - by Mudbloods who do not deserve a place in our society."

"And killing them all is the answer?"

"Who said anything about killing them? Putting them in their proper place, yes. They should be serving us."

"It's wrong."

"It's not right or wrong. It must be done for the greater good of all witches and wizards. I want to offer you a membership. You'll be sixteen soon the age of induction. It will be expected of a Black to join, and as heir it is your responsibility to fulfill that expectation. You'll be given a spot- you won't even have to compromise those Gryffindor morals - just your allegiance. Eventually your loyalty will be tested, but by then I'm sure you'll have a taste of the power and will be more than willing to do whatever is required to keep it."

"Have you told your boss that you're a Death Eater?"

Lucius laughed. "Did I ever say I was? I'm just passing along information. Think of the future. 'The cause' is gaining strength - be on the winning side. Think about it and we shall speak again."

Greg entered the room mumbling and almost dropped the stack of papers he was holding when he saw Lucius. "Mr. Malfoy! Dear me - can I be of assistance?"

"No, no. Young Sirius was more than helpful. Do think over what we spoke of, Sirius. Good day.'

Greg opened the door to let Lucius out. Lucius turned his eyes, gazing at Sirius in a calculating manner. He then left the room, though not before giving Greg a condescending smile.

Greg turned on Sirius. "Your father will be back soon. What have you accomplished so far?"

Sirius shrugged and poor Greg paled at his progress. "That's all you've done"

"I was entertaining Lucius. Surely my father would have been angrier if I had rebuffed him to simply copy down a schedule."

"Be as that may, please sit and continue."

Sirius complied and Greg did not stray from the office after that. His father returned from the meeting with a bundle of other menial tasks for Sirius to do once he finished the schedule. After lunch which Greg brought to them - Sirius wished his father had allowed him to go to the cafeteria - Sirius was allowed an unsupervised bathroom break.

Walking to the bathroom, his mind was going over the conversation with Malfoy. He was still astounded that Lucius would be so frank in his offer; that Lucius even believed he would give such a thing a second thought. In front of him two old men were walking at such a snail pace, he felt he'd never reach the bathroom. Their slow pace was driving Sirius crazy; what was so bloody hard about putting one foot in front of the other? The two men were approaching a corner and Sirius picked up his speed to pass them. As he turned, he collided straight into another person coming the other way, causing the poor witch to drop the pile of folders she'd been carrying.

The witch looked very flustered. Not only were the folders scattered, but the papers inside the folders as well. "Merlin's beard, what a mess!"

"I'll help you," someone near her offered. The voice of the bystander had a familiar ring and he was already helping the witch pick up her things.

Without glancing at the witch or the other person, Sirius bent down as well to help; after all it had been his fault really. Handing over the stack of papers he had collected to the red-faced witch, Sirius finally looked at the helpful bystander and a smile instantly lit his face. "James!"