⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✧──────────────✧⋆｡˚ ⋆

❨ chapter five. ❩
❛ a crossing of paths ❜

⋆ ✧ ⋆

June, 1978

FOR ALL THE terrors gripping the Wizarding World, it was the fear of examinations which kept sleep at bay for the students of Hogwarts. The entire castle seemed to have lapsed into a long stretch of silence and anxiety as students from all years poured over a year's worth of notes and lessons. With only ten days standing between now and summer holidays, final exams loomed over them like dark, thundering clouds. Sweet, summer breeze frequently wafted in through the windows, warm and enticing beyond reason, yet the students stayed holed up in their dormitories and common rooms, or else lingering in libraries until Madam Pince forcefully ushered them away each night.

"D'you reckon I'd pass potions if I skipped studying Amortentia?" whispered Peter as he rested his head against a large book titled Achieving Finesse in Potion Brewing, Volume XII. Sirius rolled his eyes, flicking his wand lazily to turn the page of the textbook open before him. He'd forgotten what he was supposed to be studying.

"What's there to study about a love potion, Pete?" he retorted, keeping his voice low so as to avoid being within Madam Pince' earshot. She kept lingering by the Magical Maladies section, evidently dusting the many books on the topic, but Sirius noticed her furtive glances in their direction every now and then, as though she were certain him and Peter were up to no good.

He grinned to himself at the thought, turning to tell Peter the same when he caught sight of the pudgy boy still eyeing his books anxiously. Sirius sighed audibly. "Oh, Peter. Just make something up about smelling flowers and cheese when you inhale Amortentia, and you'll ace the damn exam."

Peter glowered. "You're hilarious."

"So I've been told," laughed Sirius. Then, noticing Peter's scowl did not diminish in its intensity, he sobered up and added, "Cheer up, there's only so much you can study the night before an exam. You'll do fine."

"You will, no doubt," Peter mumbled under his breath as Madam Pince breezed past their table, tutting at their whispers. "But I don't reckon I'll pass tomorrow's exam. Never understood potions well."

Sirius merely grunted in response, unsure of what to say. They both knew Peter had never been good at potions; there was no point in him trying to master it now. The two turned their attention back to the books before them, and Sirius tried to focus on the chapter about the Bubble-Head charm. After what seemed like forever - though barely ten minutes had passed - Peter nudged Sirius.

"Where are the others?" whispered Peter.

Sirius shrugged. "James said he was going to see Evans. Haven't seen him since, and Remus..." he racked his brains to think of where Remus had said he would be. "Ah, yes. He had to go see McGonagall."

"McGonagall? What for?"

"Not a clue," said Sirius, "she stopped him in the corridor as we were coming to lunch after Arithmancy and asked him if he had a minute to spare."

"Huh... I wonder what it's about."

"We'll find out soon enough. Moony can't keep a secret from us, can he?" said Sirius, closing his book and dropping all pretense of studying. He checked his watch and grimaced. "Dinner's in a couple hours. C'mon, I'm heading to the kitchens. A sandwich sounds great about now."

Peter hurriedly sat up, his round face smiling widely up at Sirius, but then he quickly sagged into his chair again. "I can't," he groaned, "I have to finish studying for Potions before dinner so that I can get to Charms tonight."

"You're joking?" Sirius looked incredulously at Peter who shook his head.

Sirius raised a brow. He couldn't remember the last time Peter had turned down an opportunity to sneak into the kitchens or Hogsmeade. Of the four of his closest friends, it was only Peter who Sirius had always, without fail, found a willing comrade in. Even James - who, like Sirius, thrived on sneaking around the castle - had, on occasion, turned down Sirius. But never Peter. These were uncharted waters, and Sirius knew he didn't like it one bit.

However, he didn't say anything of the like to Peter who was still looking up at him blankly. Sirius shrugged, "Fine. Suit yourself, Pete."

"Sorry," Peter mumbled apologetically. "I'd-"

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius waved a hand, hoisting his bag over his shoulder, "I'll see you at dinner then."

And without another word, Sirius had swept through the library and headed down the stairs towards the kitchens.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

AS ALWAYS, SHE didn't know what brought it on. One moment, she had been munching on chips and strolling through St. James - a muggle district that her neighbor, Penelope Bones, had mentioned while the two attempted to paint the walls in Juliette's living room - and watching amusedly the sight of two girls playing catch around an out-of-order, bright red telephone booth. But the next minute, just as Juliette had managed to carefully swerve around a pair of tall, suited men who kept whispering to one another rather conspiratorially, she found herself stumbling as a familiar, cold feeling washed over her. Caught unaware, she stumbled, reaching out blindly for support and finding purchase against a streetlight as bright red and white flashed before her eyes at a numbing rate.

Her stomach lurched; once; twice; it kept churning. Leaving a burning trail behind it, bile rose up her throat, bitter and cruel. A loud buzzing filled her ears and began drowning the din of cars and pedestrians around her. Higher and faster it climbed until all she could hear were the odd, shrill sounds that she could swear were familiar, yet she could not place where she'd heard it before.

And then, as suddenly as it had come over her, the dreadful feeling melted away.

"You alright?"

Juliette opened her eyes – when had she closed them? – and saw a woman with golden curls peering at her anxiously.

"Are you okay?" the woman repeated herself, holding out a bottle of water, "Here."

"Uh, thank you, no," mumbled Juliette, shaking her head. She felt the heat coloring her face. "I'm fine. I'll just..."

She trailed off, unsure of what to do. Shaking her head again, Juliette pushed past the Muggle woman and let herself be dragged by the throng of people walking along the sidewalks.

Juliette gulped.

The familiar feeling of dread washed over her as she rounded the corner and turned into a new street. No, no, no, no, chanted her mind as she walked, barely registering where her feet were taking her. She had been fine that morning, as fine as she had been for weeks prior to now. Why was it happening now? She wanted to weep.

Her hands were clammy, slipping against the leather when she tightened her hold on her satchel and weaved through a dense crowd along Whitehall. Its cobblestone sidewalk was packed with Muggles who scrambled in all directions, walking as fast as their feet would carry them. Some chatted loudly with their partners, while others panted as they ran across London; then there were Muggles who strolled casually, sipping something from brown paper cups or smoking cigarettes. Juliette felt her stomach lurch; the fresh surge of nausea made her dizzy as she tried to see where she was headed.

"Oi! Watch out you nutt- ah, sorry miss," a man grumbled under his breath as he collided with Juliette and pushed past her in haste. He was gone before she could say a word.

She had scarcely walked two feet when she found her path being obstructed by Muggles again. This time, a small group of middle aged men had stepped right in front of her; they were all slim and balding, wearing tan and gray Muggle robes. Suits, Juliette recalled distractedly, they're called suits. A waft of woody, citrusy, perfumes invaded her senses as the men awkwardly shuffled around to walk past her, narrowly avoiding brushing against her shoulders. She glanced over her shoulder to see they were all holding a leather bag in one hand and a small, white paper bag in the other.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Juliette, her shoulder suddenly throbbing in pain. Another man had bumped into her. This one was tall and hefty, particularly around the middle, and he left her shoulder aching where his body had collided with hers. He was wearing bright red pants and a very floral patterned shirt with the top few buttons undone so that a considerable portion of his hairy chest was on display. Juliette tried masking her grimace, but the man wouldn't have noticed anyway - he was deeply engrossed in a newspaper, his dark eyes roaming across the page as he offhandedly mumbled, "Sorry about that," and walked on.

Juliette clenched her jaw as she walked towards a small cafe. It seemed empty, and there was cool air wafting from inside its open doors. She stumbled inside as red and white began dancing before her eyes again.

"Wha-"

"Hey, watch where you're going!" snapped Juliette, rubbing her temples angrily as she felt herself collide with someone yet again.

"Someone's having a bad day," said a man who sounded very amused. "Two Earl Grey's, and how about a slice of battenberg, Mr. MacDonald?"

"Aye, thank you," another man rumbled. By the sound of his wheezy voice, he must have been considerably old. Juliette turned to see him but spun on the spot, her vision blurring around the edges. Seeing scarlet, she reached out and gripped the back of the nearest chair.

"Ye alright, lass?" the wheezy voice asked.

She shook her head, unable to say anything.

"Is she okay? She dinna look okay," the same man said to his companion. "I-"

"It's alright, Mr. MacDonald, don't worry yourself," the first man replied smoothly. He had a rather sonorous voice and spoke in a very posh accent, Juliette noted. "You'll be late for the meeting with the M- uh, the Minister. I'll see to it that this young lady here gets help."

"Oh, would ye be so kind?" the man called MacDonald breathed in relief. "I really must get going if I'm to be there on time. Best not keep the Prime Minister waiting."

"Of course, sir. Shall I leave your tea with your secretary, back at the office?"

"You dinna worry about that. I'll ask Rosie to make me another one. Just... help this lass, eh? And then get back to work," MacDonald replied, adding, "Good man ye are, Augustus, good man."

"It's absolutely nothing, sir," the deep-voiced man replied. "I'll see you at the hearing this afternoon."

A soft clicking sound indicated that the other man, the wheezy one, had departed the cafe. Juliette was taking in gulps of cold air when a pair of brown, gleaming shoes swarmed into her view as the man she'd slammed into came to stand before her.

"Shall I call someone?" asked the man shortly. He almost sounded bored. She blinked up at him, finding him standing closer than she'd assumed. He was tall and slim, with a long face and sharp jaw, and tiny lines forming around his steely eyes. His dark hair had been combed and set meticulously, and he wore a dark muggle suit. She noticed the smell of sage and pepper lingering in the air as he took a step away from her.

Her mind seemed to be whirring at an agonizing pace, whilst slowing down incredibly at the same time. She searched for words but none seemed to reach her tongue. Juliette gripped her head in pain and frustration.

"Sit," the man ordered quietly. She glanced up at him again and saw his face contorted into a grimace. His hand jerked forwards, hovering above her elbow but he did not grasp it.

"Sit down," he repeated, a bit more firmly this time.

Juliette sunk into the chair she had been leaning against; her head was throbbing so painfully now that she was certain she'd pass out soon. Hunched over, she saw Augustus' feet shift. Then –

"Hey, you," he snapped sharply. The sound made Juliette's head spin. Moments later, a server came totterring over.

"Sir?" a timid, soft voice asked.

The man pointed to Juliette as he said, "this girl's not well. See to it she gets help, will you?"

The server mumbled something quickly before she hurried away and returned with a glass of iced water which she thrust into Juliette's shaking hands. Juliette took a small sip and as the icy water ran down her parched throat and cleared her head a little, she heard the steady tap of Augustus' shoes against the pristine floor, growing fainter as he walked away.

"Thank you, sir," she called after him weakly, still unable to see clearly.

If he had heard her, he didn't reply.

The cafe door shut behind the tall stranger with a soft chime, and for the second time that day, Juliette felt the sickness pass as quickly as it had come over her.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

BY THE TIME Sirius left the Hogwarts kitchens, it was nearly time for dinner. He hadn't meant to stay that long, but somewhere between the copious amounts of ham sandwiches and fruit tarts brought to him by the house elves, and the comfortable corner by the fireplace where he'd sat, Sirius had lost track of time. He'd sat there listening to a couple house elves talk about preparation for the end of term feast, munching on his sandwiches and tinkering with the Marauders Map. It was only when one of the older house elves, Tilsy, called for the other house elves to begin readying the food to be sent upstairs did Sirius realize he'd been in the kitchens for far too long.

The sound of students milling about the Entrance Hall above drifted down, sounding much like a faint buzzing. The kitchen door concealed itself behind him once more as Sirius peered around the corridor.

Apart from a group of Hufflepuff first years who stood under one of the candelabras reading something that looked like the Muggle picture books Peter had been so fond of, there were hardly any students around. Sirius strolled past the group of Hufflepuffs, nodded at one of the prefects walking in the opposite direction, and turned into a large corridor, at the end of which stood the grand staircase that led to the Entrance Hall above.

His stomach turned.

There, near the foot of the stairs, stood a group of sixth year boys, all of whom he knew by name. Even in the dim candle light that bathed the basement, Sirius could see the green ties fastened around their necks.

The boys didn't seem to notice Sirius loitering at the corner of the corridor for they seemed to be busy arguing about something, whispering urgently and pointing to each other. Then, one of them - a tall, brown haired boy with an angular face, Silas Nott - swore loudly and turned towards the staircase. The other boys began to follow him, though their whispers did not cease.

Sirius hurried forward.

"Reg?" he called out loudly, albeit a little hesitantly. Vaguely, Sirius was glad that at least his voice didn't waver like it had the last time.

A lean, black-haired boy whipped around, his steely gray eyes meeting Sirius' in surprise. He looked at Sirius for a moment before turning back to his friends.

Sirius was undeterred, calling his brother again, "Reg? Have a minute?"

His brother looked over his shoulder, his face impassive. Sirius knew he was hesitant to talk to him in front of the other Slytherin boys. By now, most of the people in Slytherin would have heard of what he'd done last summer.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sirius added, "Please?"

The boys all turned to look at him now. Regulus's blank face cracked for a moment, and surprise shone through. Then Sirius blinked, and the stony mask had slipped back on his brother's face.

They looked at one another for a long moment, then, with a very visible sigh, Regulus turned to his friends and said something, gesturing towards the staircase lazily as he did so. The other boys all scowled at whatever it was Regulus had said to them but left without another word, though not before throwing reproachful looks in Sirius' direction, who somehow managed to refrain himself from rolling his eyes.

As he drew closer to the younger boy, the first thing Sirius noticed was that his brother had gotten taller over the past year. A silly observation, he knew, but it was true. The last time he'd stood this close to Regulus, his brother had been a whole head shorter than him. Now, Regulus was almost as tall as him. It was disconcerting, a painful reminder of the fact that they were separated by more than just school Houses now; that they hadn't spoken to one other in nearly a whole year.

"How..." Sirius faltered, a wave of nervousness washing over him. He wanted to say many things, ask even more questions. But none made their way to his tongue. Regulus seemed oblivious to the tumultuous thoughts racing through Sirius' mind.

"How are you?" he finally asked when nothing else came to mind. It seemed like a good place to start, a polite question. Too polite, a voice in his head whispered, he'll see right through you.

A hollow laugh, cold and empty and far too similar to their father's, reverberated in the corridor as Regulus sniggered. A pair of Hufflepuffs gave them odd looks as they passed by. In an oddly stiff voice, Regulus replied, "Very well, thank you. Yourself?"

Sirius gulped. "Reg... I-"

"You're looking well," his brother interrupted, a frown lining his pale face. He searched Sirius' face for a long moment, then said, "I have to go."

Regulus had already walked several feet towards the staircase when Sirius, his mind made up, ran after his brother.

"Wait. Wait! Wait!" said Sirius, skidding to a halt behind Regulus and tugging on his arm. "Listen."

"Oh, right. That's my job, isn't it. To listen? Well, I did just that! I heard everything last summer," Regulus spat, his eyes burning. "Or have you forgotten all about that?"

Sirius blanched. "You don't understand..."

"I don't understand?" Regulus' voice dropped to a whisper, "Me?" He looked angrier than Sirius had ever seen the younger boy; Regulus was the one to not have inherited the family temper, or at least he hadn't inherited their penchant of displaying it.

Shaking his head, Regulus said, in an even tone, "You know what, fine. I never understood before, and I never will. So stop trying to make me understand, and leave me alone."

He took a step back, fully intent on fleeing the corridor, but Sirius was quicker.

"Why won't you listen to me?" hissed Sirius, seizing his brother by the shoulders and shaking him. "I keep trying to talk to you, but you won't listen."

"Listen to what?" exclaimed Regulus as he fought feebly against the hold Sirius had on him. "Look. You had a choice and you made it, for you and for me. You look happy with what you did, and I'm happy for you. But you can't force me to-"

"Reg, they'll destroy you," Sirius cut in. Time was short, as it was. "You don't understand what you'll be getting into if you..."

"If I what?" prodded Regulus, his nostrils flaring, a brow rising into an elegant arch. He looked as if he was daring Sirius to finish his sentence.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "If you join Voldemort."

Regulus flinched, and Sirius felt his stomach lurch at the unwelcome confirmation of his worst fears. For a moment, it seemed as if his brother too was upset, bemused even; he looked even paler than usual. But then Regulus quickly regained his composure and, clearing his throat, he said, "You don't know what you're talking about, Sirius, or what I'm going to do."

"I'm not stupid," hissed Sirius, taking a step closer to his brother and watching apprehension flicker in those gray eyes. "I see you hanging around those Mulciber boys and that Nott kid, you know? I've seen you whispering with Avery and Carrow-"

"Don't you have better things to do than spying on me?" interrupted Regulus exasperatedly, but Sirius ignored him.

"Do you think I don't know what they're planning to do this summer?" Sirius pressed on, searching his brother's face for some sign of confusion, any sign to reassure him that Regulus was not, after all, as ignorant or foolish as the rest of their family. "They aren't exactly keeping it quiet, are they? Tell me you aren't as thick headed as the rest of those idiots."

"What they do is none of your concern," retorted Regulus in a curt tone.

"No, but you are–"

"I'm not," said Regulus firmly. Sirius wanted to protest but something about the way Regulus was staring made him stop. Taking a shuddering breath, Regulus added, "I'm not your concern anymore. You made sure of that when you left and ran to Potter."

"You can't blame me for–" began Sirius but Regulus pressed on.

"And you don't get to play victim all the time! Stop pitying yourself," Regulus half-yelled, his voice echoing down the now empty corridor. "You never even tried to get along with everyone, Sirius. You never tried to fit in, to do the right thing."

"The right thing?" It was Sirius' turn to laugh. "You think what our parents are doing is the right thing? You think supporting Voldemort — oh stop flinching, you ninny! You think supporting him is the right thing? He's a murderer, Voldemort is. That's who you're supporting. All that nonsense about blood purity? Yeah, bullshit."

Regulus scoffed. "You know so little about what the Dark Lord wants, what he means to do. He means to free us, Sirius. He means to give us the freedom we deserve, but people like you can't see beyond the present, can't imagine a world where-"

"Where muggleborns are dead and witches and wizards can kill as they like?"

"A world where we don't have to hide. Where those from magical bloodlines can practice true magic without it being tainted by muggle ideas."

"Are you even listening to yourself, Reg?" asked Sirius, horrified, "Or is it a part of the Death Eater induction ceremony that you surrender all common sense?"

In the distance, a loud bell echoed, signaling the start of dinner. Above them, the castle seemed to come alive as hundreds of footsteps made their way to the Great Hall.

"You think you're above us, don't you?" snarled Regulus, "You think you're so different, so special from the rest of the family because a stupid hat decided to have some fun when sorting you? Hate to break it to you, but you're wrong." Regulus was breathing harder now, his face red with anger. Sirius knew he looked the same; he could feel the rage burning through his veins. "You're more like us than you think, Sirius."

Looking both affronted and thoroughly disgusted, Regulus straightened his robes and moved away from Sirius who did not follow this time. He stood rooted to his spot, pale and clammy. He could feel his heart thundering against his ribs as though he'd run a dozen laps around the Quidditch pitch. His brother's words swirled around his head, vicious and poisonous, hissing and taunting him again and again. He wanted to scream at his brother, to defend himself, to make Regulus understand that he'd caught the wrong end of the stick. But more than anything else – and it hurt to even admit this to himself – Sirius wanted to know if Regulus was right after all.

"You'll see," said Regulus finally, sounding oddly calm, "You never belonged in our family, but you're woefully mistaken if you think you belong with Potter's or the rest of that lot."

With one last, searing look at him, Regulus turned on his heel and disappeared up the staircase, leaving Sirius with nothing but the bitter thoughts that would keep him company for the rest of the week, perhaps even longer.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✧──────────────✧⋆｡˚ ⋆