fight to live, live to fight

nThe Death Eater just kept on delivering, didn’t they? Marlene blinked in shock as if they had just told her all of Voldemort’s world domination plans and they were much worse that she could have imagined. But no, it wasn’t that. It was implying that her hair, her hair, was just a common braid you could go and chop off just like that.

“Just hair!? Just hair!? Sure, yours might be just hair” she picked up the remains of her braid “YOU THINK IT’S EASY TO GET HEALTHY HAIR THIS LONG!?” she threw it to his face in a fit of absurdity “I’m giving my life to this damn war you and your buddies started. I’ve sacrificed time, mental health, emotional stability, even the years that are supposed to be the best of my damn life. The least thing you fuckers could do is let me keep my beautiful hair! Noooo, no. You’ve gotta take that away too. What did pretty hair ever do to you!?”

She was furious and it was stupid. Of course it was just hair. Better her braid than her head. And yet…And yet…Why couldn’t they allow her just that pretty little thing? Voldemort and his lackeys already screwed up pretty much every sphere of her life. They had even been inside her head and robbed her of her own free will. Wasn’t that enough? Why did they have to show up and rob her of her own hability to style her hair as she liked it.

Pieces of shit, the lot of them. Starting with the one in front of her. She could’ve hexed them. Given them burning feet, knocked them out, turned them into a shoe. She could’ve filled their face with boils, make the silver metal of their mask heat up and burn them, or simply blasted them off. She could’ve conjured her fire whip and slashed then with it. But when she opened her mouth, the icantation was out before she could even stop to think just how useless it was as a counter attack:

“CALVARIO”

“I’ll show you just hair, mate” she thought viciously as the Hair-Loss Curse exited the end of her wand.

The witch was really upset about her hair. It would have been hilarious if she weren’t such a formidable opponent. Even still, Sep was grinning ear to ear behind his mask and a sharp guffaw of laughter escaped him as he listened to her rant. 

“I wasn’t aiming for your hair, woman!” he laughed, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. With Marlene practically steaming with fury, he was certain a curse would be flying in his direction at any moment and he wanted to be ready to dodge out of the way. Still, he couldn’t resist poking fun at her sheer outrage. “If you’re so bothered about it, maybe you shouldn’t have it flapping about in some great bloody braid while you’re-- OI!”

Even prepared as he’d been, he barely managed to avoid taking the curse that Marlene bellowed at him straight in the face. He leapt to one side, only to collide with the wall of the Three Broomsticks, and threw his arm up to shield his head from the bright flash of magic. The spell grazed his forearm, which went briefly numb. 

Yelping, Sep gave it a shake, panicked in the moment over what effect the curse might have. He was relieved to see that the limb was still attached and seemingly in one piece. There wasn’t any pain, either, nor any sign of blood. Maybe the spell hadn’t worked!

When he lowered his arm, however, he soon realized that wasn’t the case. Out of his sleeve poured a miniature shower of his arm hair. Yelping again -- in disgust and surprise this time -- Sep gave his arm another violent shake. “Ergh! What the hell?!” It must have been some sort of Hair-Loss spell. If it had hit him in the head, he had no doubts that he would be bald now. He glared at Marlene in disbelief. That petty cow!

“Seriously?!” he roared, humour forgotten. His hair might not be some fancy golden braid like hers, but he was fond of it. He wasn’t gonna let some silly witch throwing a fit make him bald just because she hadn’t been quick enough to dodge a Slicing hex. “Crucio!” he snarled. If he came home with no hair, Aurie would keel over with laughter and Ramsey would never stop teasing him about it!

It was probably past time for him to end this anyway. The bloody Order would be filling these streets soon, not to mention the Aurors and other Ministry hounds. Hopefully the taste of freedom and violence would be enough to incite the acromantulae to join the Dark Lord’s side in a more permanent capacity. And at the very least, the townsfolk of Hogsmeade had been reminded just how close to their doorstep danger lurked. A productive venture all in all, even if the twitching heap of hairy legs and blasted thorax behind Marlene might not agree. Yes, it was time to finish this fight and be on his way. 

Her conjured hornets seemed to do the trick, thank God. Of course, she’d never doubted they would, not so much because of her talent, but because well…Hornets! Nobody liked hornets, whether they were conjured or real. She knew the stings were not real, but the pain, while temporary, certainly was. It allowed her enough time to deal with the giant spider. Or at least, draw its attention away from the innocent bystander. 

Turning back to the cloaked figure, she found herself giggling with her lips pressed together at the sight of him, all soaked and trying to shake off the water like a dog, the weight of his wet clothes making him look like a giant black blob, melting into a puddle. Merlin, this had to be the most surreal battle she’d had in a while.

But as that day was quickly proving, it clearly had no intentions whatsoever of running smoothly for her. The spider, recovered from the Stunning spell, was crawling towards her on all eights. 

She could hear the Death Eater complaining in the backgroun. “Hey, if you don’t like the show, go somewhere else!” she hissed, sounding more annoyed than anything. She currently had a feast of hairy legs crawling her way, she did not have time to deal with the Death Eater’s complains. 

The spider was almost upon her, in a way that she could either turn her back to it, or to her human enemy. Considering the hairy legs were almost wrapped around her, she wasn’t given much of a choice, and she was forced to turn her back to her enemy at the same time that she ducked to avoid the spider’s attach.

She felt the force of the slicing curse, and for an irrational moment, was certain that it had chopped off the entire back of her head. She certainly felt light headed. But when she looked to the ground, she realized her head was intact, but her long blonde braid had been sliced in half, and now two thirds of her long golden main were laying at her feet.

And suddenly, she burst into tears.

“YOU BLOODY ARSE! YOU CUT MY HAIR!” she gasped, feeling her cheeks burning with anger and the entire absurdity of the situation. She was just so tired of it all. The constant fighting, the taunting, the seemingly endless supplies of arseholes Voldemort was constantly pulling out of the sleeves of his robes. Every day a new threat. She was so fucking done with the war. Changing every aspect of her life. Even her haircut.

The Slicing spell hit its mark. Well, sort of. Sep watched the long blonde plait fall away from the back of Marlene’s head and almost winced. She might be an enemy, but she was undeniably a beautiful witch. With beautiful hair. Which he had just inadvertently and unceremoniously chopped off. Considering that he’d been aiming to maim her, though, he wasn’t about to feel too bad about it.

The way the witch reacted, however, you would think that he had maimed her. After a moment of stunned silence between the two of them, she burst into furious tears. Sep took a step back, unsettled in spite of himself by the sheer outrage in Marlene’s voice. 

Surely this would be the distraction needed to let the spider get her, he thought. Only to look past Marlene and her howling upset, to see that his Slicing spell had done more damage than he’d realized. The spell, after its brief but significant encounter with Marlene’s braid, had struck the beast. It now lay in a twitching heap behind her. It didn’t look like it would be getting up again. Sep swore. That spell hadn’t done anyone any favours.

“It’s just hair,” he said with a grimace, refocusing on Marlene. “It’ll grow back. You know, if you survive.” From the look on Marlene’s face, he was a little concerned that he was the one who needed to be worried about that. He raised his wand defensively. “Could be worse,” he added, nodding over Marlene’s shoulder at the dying spider.

Hoping that she wouldn't be able to resist the urge to glance away, he quickly cast another hex, this time sending a Blasting spell her way. The state of her hairdo would be the last thing she had to worry about, if he had anything to say about it.

Walden was sure that the blow would hit. The knife was seconds away, he could imagine how it would feel when it pushed into thick flesh. At first, he believed the drug running through his system was the cause for the sense of slowing that he was experiencing, but quickly he realized it was a spell.

From the looks of things, Crabbe had also become a victim of this spell as well, freezing in a rather unnatural pose. “…Kill…You…” Walden growled at the bartender as the man strode over to them with a stern look on his face. His heart had already been pounding heavily in his chest, but he could feel it straining to the point of being painful as he felt his panic rising. He didn’t enjoy being restrained and most of his energy was going toward trying to break free of the petrifying spell.

So caught up in his panic, Walden barely registered the conversation that was happening before him. The bartender looked at Crabbe, seeming to consider his argument before nodding and giving another wave of his wand. Before he could even register that a wand was in his face, Walden was being levitated out the door and set down rather roughly. Turning to Crabbe, the man pointed warningly. “You’ll be out that door in a second once this ones away.”

A with that, the petrifying spell was broken and Walden collapsed in a heap outside the pub. A murderous rage roared through his blood and he hap-hazardly threw himself back toward the entrance before a door was thrust in his face and he slammed into the hard oak with a loud oath. 

“I will fucking kill you!” he screamed, pounding a fist against the door.

Wait

The voice rang so loudly in his ear he couldn’t help but flinch. “Wait for what?” he muttered.

Patiently

His chest was tight and painful as Walden slumped against the wall of the pub trying to make sense of Their words. “Wait patiently?” he asked the open air. Right. Hadn’t the man said something about once he was gone? Right. If he pretended to leave, he could jump Crabbe when he left the pub.

Unceremonious, he got to his feet, breathing heavily and wandered over to the alley by the pub. Walden slipped into the shadows and tried to catch his breath as he hunkered down to wait for as long as it took.

It was beyond frustrating to have to admit that Macnair was the bigger threat between the two of them, but it was better than getting murdered by the bastard. And over what? A spilled drink! Macnair was bloody insane. Embarrassing as it was, Sep was glad when the bartender took his words seriously and removed Macnair from the pub via levitation. The sight of the frozen man floating unnaturally out the door would have been comical under different circumstances.

Any humour that could be dredged from the situation would have been obliterated a moment later, anyway, when the sounds of Macnair beating on the door reached Sep’s ears. He felt a shameful spark of fear flicker through him. He’d beat anyone who tried to call him a coward, but he knew he was afraid of the other Death Eater. Macnair could be hilarious, even fun to hang around with on his good days, but only a fool would be blind to the fact that he was dangerous. And right now, listening to him hammering on the door and howling his threats, Sep was afraid.

He would be damned if he was gonna let anyone in this pub know that, though. The moment he was released from the spell, he made a show of rolling his shoulders and dusting himself off. “Bloody idiot,” he muttered, not bothering to specify if he was referring to Macnair, the bartender or himself. The bartender didn’t seem to care anyway, only offering him a pointed glare and gesturing at the exit. 

“On your way, Crabbe,” he said. “And next time you’re in here, you better not start anything.” There was a note of weariness in the man’s voice that had replaced the anger. Bartenders were used to a certain amount of nonsense, Sep supposed. He was just glad that he wasn’t getting banned. The Leaky Cauldron was far from the best pub in the country, but it was a hub and the last thing he wanted was to get barred from it. Shrugging his noncommittal understanding, he made his way towards the door. 

Then paused, his hand on the doorknob. The shouting from outside had stopped. From the sounds of it, Macnair had cut his losses and left. Maybe. Sep glanced over his shoulder, considering just disapparating from here, impolite or not, but the look the bartender gave him said clearly that if he did so, he really would be barred. Sighing, he turned the knob and stepped out into the dark.

“Well, you don’t know what New York is, mate, so your stupidity still stands in question” Marlene pointed out with a roll of her viridian eyes. Perhaps Voldemort might be aiming for purity, but apparently being cultured did not have to be included in the pack.

That day just kept on giving, didn’t it? First giant spiders, and now one of those Death Eaters that was clearly off the wagon with an appetite for chaos and not of the good kind. She enjoyed banter as much as the next fighter, but sometimes you just wanted your opponents to be quiet and give up like good little bad guys. Was it so much to ask really? Did they have to insist on trying to win aaaall the time? “It’s probably a case of the Fragile Egos” she thought ironically.

“Oh, I know they’re wicked smart. Doesn’t make them any less nasty or any less scary” she danced away nimbly from the hexes thrown her way “Easy to say when one of the sides probably offers you an endless supply of fresh human being for dinner. Is that how your precious Dark Lord plans to dispose of the bodies of all those he will commit genocide on?” Rather than firing a hex that would inevitably bounce off his shield charm, Marlene jumped on top of a cart that had been abandoned in the flee, and pushed over what looked like a barrel of butterbeer, sending it rolling over towards the Death Eater in hopes of breaking his concentration.

Normally, Marlene would’ve ignored the heads up, taking it as a cheap attempt to distract her, but she could hear the screaming behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the wizard swinging his broom around like one would to scare of a spider. Of course, a regular sized one. Not the Godzilla of all spiders.

“Bloody Hell” Marlene cursed under her breath. She couldn’t catch a breath. “Well, I’ll have to cut your show short with commercials. First we have an advertisement on how to get rid of vermin” she conjured a swarm of hornets and sent them flying towards the Death Eater’s head to keep him occupied while she sprinted towards the spider, firing hexes at it and occasionally throwing a random jinx over her shoulder in case the Death Eater managed to escape her spell. “Stupify!” she shouted, aiming her wand at the giant hairy eight-legged ball.

“Good idea!” Sep crowed cheerfully, dodging around the barrel that was sent trundling at high speed in his direction. “I’ll pass it along to the Dark Lord! Hate a mess and all!” Behind him, the barrel collided with a wall and broke apart in a great wave of butter beer.

Of course, he wouldn’t dare to actually approach the Dark Lord so lightly, but Marlene was obviously furious and it was fun to play with that. If it made her trip up, all the better, but even if she was able to keep her wits about her, it was fun simply shouting insults and jabs back and forth.

Less fun was a swarm of hornets suddenly surrounding his head. Sep yelped in alarm, swatting at the insects as they buzzed angrily around him. Within seconds they were stinging, sharp pain pricking his head and neck as they struck. 

“Oi! Hey! Gerroff me!” Sep shouted, stumbling back several steps as he tried to ward the hornets off. When simply flapping his arms around proved fruitless, he remembered that he was, in fact, a wizard and cast the first spell that came to mind. A deluge of cold water came out of his wand, sweeping unnaturally through the air around him and engulfing him and the swarm alike. On the bright side, it worked to knock the insects from the air, their delicate wings unable to combat the water. On the downside, it left Sep’s entire upper half completely soaked. He gave his head a shake, droplets of water arcing away from his hair. 

Luckily, all of his jumping about had apparently saved him, as he staggered to one side just in time to avoid a hex Marlene sent over her shoulder at him. “Hey!” he shouted, unrighteously furious at the way the tables seemed to have turned in the last several moments. Marlene was scarcely even paying attention to him, most of her focus on the spider and the broom-wielding man it was trying to attack. 

To his further chagrin, the Stunning spell Marlene sent the spider’s way hit its mark. The creature stumbled, but didn’t seem to be knocked entirely senseless. They had thick hides, it would seem. It turned the spider’s attention away from the man with the broom, though, and the latter took the opportunity to dash away. Pity.

Sun-Filled Days of Youth || May 30 1970

The professor appeared to accept his answer and agree with him. Alastor gave another polite nod at the man’s obvious responsibility. The statement made him wonder if Woodrose was a bit oblivious about things, not that it mattered. He got what he wanted. Despite what his boss might say about his lack of tact, he could talk his way out of situations. Being an Auror probably helped too.

It didn’t take much prompting for the other students to disperse. Perhaps they’d seek another opportunity for retribution. Luckily, he wouldn’t be there for it. Hopefully. The kid was a little less willing to just run off without trying to set the record straight. Alastor decided not to step in any further. He’d already asserted himself, and he didn’t see a need to undermine the old man. Whatever the professor said would have to stand. When Sep thanked him for the smoke, he inwardly winced, wondering if Woodrose would catch on to what ‘ciggy’ meant. It wouldn’t put him in too nice of a light if word got out that he’d been handing out smokes to children. Fortunately, the professor didn’t bat an eye at it, so he either didn’t know or chose to ignore the comment. Alastor hoped it was the former. “Keep out of trouble, kid,” he said to Sep with a nod.

Now that all the students were gone, it was just him and the old man. “Well, I should be going. Pleasure meeting you, Professor Woodrose.” Not wanting to be there any longer than he had to, Alastor pushed himself from the window and stepped around the old man. He was fairly certain he had time for a quick bite, so he set off for The Three Broomsticks. There was only paperwork to do for the rest of the day, and he wasn’t looking forward to writing yet another boring report on Mrs. Walderson.

As usual, the pub was busy and smelled like home cooked food. His stomach growled. There were a lot of students around, as well as various other residents and visitors to the village. Having been to the pub his fair share of times, he knew where some of the quieter seats were so that he could eat his lunch in relative peace. Once he’d placed his order at the bar, he looked around and spotted an empty table near the back corner. He was happy for the rest, and he’d be even happier once he ate. For now, he just sat back and enjoyed the hum of the pub.

~

Sun-Filled Days of Youth || May 30 1970

The old wizard took his time getting over to them, making Alastor wonder how the man got around the castle without being late to anything. To the  professor’s credit, calling out the students’ names did seem to put a stop to the fight. Not surprisingly, the students and Sep didn’t want any further trouble. He wished it was that easy outside of Hogwarts; the rules were more strict and kids tended to do what they were told. Adults on the other hand, not so much. At least not with the ones that he dealt with. 

Sep was now getting him involved, which Alastor had hoped wouldn’t happen. He was a witness apparently, and the kid was calling for his testimony. While he would have liked to keep out of it, he supposed just his proximity was enough to raise some suspicion. Tucking his notes away into his robes, he looked squarely at the old man. “Auror Moody,” he corrected, “And yes, Mr Crabbe and I were having a conversation.” Catching a glance at the students, he saw that some of them looked surprised. Professor Woodrose looked a little less skeptical, but not much. “The conversation didn’t have to do with my job. I’m on a break at the moment,” Alastor further explained so that there wasn’t any confusion as to the nature of the conversation. “And before you ask why I didn’t intervene, well… it’s hardly my place isn’t it? They’re students, and it’s probably best if someone from the Ministry didn’t interfere with school business. Wouldn’t you agree?” With a polite smile, he added, “So it was a good thing that you came over when you did.”

There, he hoped that was enough for the old man. Alastor didn’t like answering other people’s questions, and if he could try to cut it off before that happened, he’d definitely try. Why wait for others to lead you down a path that could be your undoing? Leading someone down a path to either get them to tell the truth or catch them in a lie was an interrogation technique, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be interrogated by a teacher.

Now that there was no fight happening, there wasn’t a reason for the professor to be there anymore. Come to think of it, there wasn’t much of a reason for him to be there anymore either; he’d probably taken long enough for a break if he wanted to try to get a quick bite to eat before heading back to the office. “Is there anything I can help you with, Professor Woodrose?

Sep smirked at the shocked looks on the other boy’s faces when Moody announced that he was an auror. Yeah, he thought. That’s right. I talk to cool people! He crossed his arms smugly, feeling like he’d somehow won, even if no actual fight had occurred. Even better, Moody didn’t make it sound like he was coming to his rescue or trying to intervene. If anything, he sounded disinterested in the situation as a whole. He really was pretty cool, Sep decided.

Woodrose looked a bit uncertain about Moody, but he didn’t ask him any more questions. There was a faint hint of redness in the old man’s cheeks. Probably feeling a bit stupid for questioning an Auror. He cleared his throat and straightened his scholar’s hat. “Right, of course,” he said, when Moody pointed out that it had been a good thing he’d come along. “My duty is to keep the students out of trouble.” Sep resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Off you go, lads. No more squabbling, eh? And Mr Crabbe, please leave Auror Moody to his business. I’m sure he’s not got the time for your pestering.”

Sep bristled. “Wasn’t pestering him, was I!” he protested, annoyed. “We were just talking.” He glanced back over at Moody, this time hoping for a bit of support, but Moody did look like he was keen to be on his way. Or, at least, Sep thought that might be the case. He wasn’t that good at reading people, except in the case of predicting violence, and Moody struck him as particularly difficult to figure out. He mostly just looked a little grumpy and maybe… bored? Stern? Contemplative? Sep wasn’t sure.

Woodrose was still eyeing him with much more discernible disapproval, however, and Sep shrugged in defeat. “Whatever,” he said. “Got places to be anyway. Cheers for the ciggy and all,” he added to Moody.

Sirius was petty. Sure, he was. He had wanted to get back to Crabbe every since Crabbe got at him. Impulsive, yes, that, too, but Sirius did have some kind of sense and notion of the right time to act. Now, this early autumn morning, he didn’t feel like it. Sirius was too curious about the toy made after his liking. Surprised that someone like Crabbe hade made it. That curiosity trumped any itching need to hex Crabbe into oblivion. There would be time for that. Plenty, it seemed - The Ministry no more inclined to help end this dangerous foolery Voldemort rallied in his devotees. In Muggle studies, it always seemed it was the uneducated that was easily swayed into believing lies and falsities like this. Here, with them, it was those that was supposed to be above everything, that was supposed to be the better and most educated, that blindly followed their leader. But then, it was usually the poor sods in the Muggle world that felt threatened, in the Wizarding World it was the purebloods that feared for their existence. 

No, there would be time to put Crabbe in his place. Sirius hummed in response of the price, the question that followed making him huff. “’Course I can,” Sirius bit back, the instinctive reaction to be called poor and unable rising to the surface faster than he could try to pretend that he still wasn’t ruled by it. “Didn’t the rounds about Walburga’s anger at poor Uncle Alphard circuit in your circles?” Sirius had inherited his uncle’s fortunes after he had passed, and Sirius was forever grateful for that. First, for the money. He might pretend to love the culture of the working class, the edgy glory of barely scraping by, but frankly, he had no idea how to survive without money. He wouldn’t have been able to get his flat and get out of the Potter’s hair without the money, he wouldn’t be able to spend his time tinkering with motorbikes and devoting time to the Order if he hadn’t the money to fall back on, he wouldn’t be able to pursue his various past-times and indulgences and vices without it. The money had saved him, and Sirius was touched that someone from the horrible family had actually cared about him in some sense, at least, as to think of him in their will. 

“I’ll take him.” 

Sep shrugged. Gossip was more his sisters’ wheelhouse than his. They probably knew all about what had happened with Sirius and his fall from grace. He would ask his eldest sister Juno about it later. Or maybe Astraea, the second oldest, who was the most inclined to go to all the social events and keep up with everybody’s business. She could probably fill in all the details. All Sep knew was that Sirius had abandoned his family in favour of running around with a load of Gryffindors and then, eventually, the Order of the Phoenix. Back before Regulus had disappeared, the younger Black brother had never liked to talk about Sirius. Ashamed, probably.

Sirius announced that he would take the toy and Sep raised his brows, still a little surprised in spite of the clear interest the other wizard had shown from the start. He glanced through the shop window, but the shopkeeper was still busy. She caught his eye over the shoulder of the chatty customer in front of her and held up a finger. The universal sign for ‘I’ll be with you in a minute’. Sep shrugged his understanding, then eyed the little dog contemplatively.

He hadn’t told the shopkeeper how many toys he was delivering, so it wasn’t like she would know that he’d sold one out from under her. And it was the dragons that she was really interested in anyway, not the dogs. And hey! He’d created the things, so why shouldn’t he be able to sell them if he wanted to? He turned back to Sirius and nodded in agreement.

Sun-Filled Days of Youth || May 30 1970

Whatever the disagreement was, it looked as if Sep wasn’t very worried about it. And apparently the disagreement was over a girl. He definitely wasn’t going to get involved with school crushes. Since Sep didn’t tell him to leave, Alastor made sure to look elsewhere other than the group of students. He did still keep his hearing focused on what was going on.

One of the students asked about a Malfoy, which struck him as interesting. He didn’t know much about the family other than they were proud purebloods and that they rubbed him the wrong way. Hearing that Sep apparently hung out with one was all he needed to deduce that the kid was a Slytherin, unless the Malfoy kid somehow broke the family mould which he doubted.

Alastor wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on in front of him, though he did make sure to appear as if he wasn’t a part of what was going on behind him. To help with appearances, he pulled out a small notebook from his robes and pretended to look at his notes. Behind him, he heard Sep throw a good comeback, even though it definitely wasn’t going to defuse the situation.

Very casually and discreetly, he turned his head back just enough to see what was happening. He wouldn’t interfere, no, it was just his curiosity getting the better of him for a few moments. As he suspected, Sep’s retort didn’t help to appease the other students. Actually, it looked as if a few of them were egging one of them on. A fight, maybe. One student, he assumed it was the one who was insulted, took a swing. Alastor turned away and took a couple of steps away. He could plead ignorance to the whole thing, if anyone asked.

Looking up from his notes, he spotted an elderly wizard walking around. The man definitely looked like a professor. Round glasses, academic looking robes over a tweed suit and of course, the giveaway, a scholar’s cap on top of white wispy hair. Alastor didn’t recognize the professor; perhaps the year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher - the school never managed to keep one longer than a year. With a few discreet gestures of his hand, he caught the man’s attention and he pointed to the supposed kerfuffle behind him. Hopefully, things didn’t get too out of hand but it hadn’t sounded like an all out fight had broken out yet. His assumption that the older gentleman was a professor seemed to prove true, as the wizard slowly made his way over to the group of students.

Sep’s rebuke had the hoped-for effect and he grinned as the other boy’s face curdled into a snarl. While the other Ravenclaw had latched onto his friend’s arm and seemed to be trying to convince him to walk away, the Gryffindors in the group were already riled up, calling for a fight. Good old Gryffindors, Sep thought. Nothing if not predictable.

“Yeah, c’mon then!” he crowed back at them, forgetting in the jolly excitement before a fight just who he was standing next to. When it did cross his mind that Moody, as an auror and an adult in general, might not approve of his antics, he glanced over at the wizard. Only to find Moody had turned mostly away from the confrontation and seemed to be putting conscious effort into not paying it any mind. Good man. Sep laughed and took a step closer to the other students, squaring his shoulders in preparation for a fight. His wand was in his pocket, but he was more looking forward to punching the stupid Ravenclaw boy in the nose. 

“Mr Crabbe! Mr Fitzroy! Is there a problem here?”

The rickety voice that called out Sep’s name pulled him up short before he was within punching distance of the Ravenclaw, Fitzroy. Looking over, he caught sight of Professor Woodrose shuffling toward them, his wizened face disapproving behind his round glasses. Sep groaned. Woodrose wasn’t the worst of the professors, but he wouldn’t abide by a fight. His detentions were also notoriously boring. The last time he’d caught Sep smoking in the corridors, he’d made him spend an hour writing lines, then another hour cleaning the hospital wing without the help of magic.

Maybe Fitzroy had similar experiences to go on, because he was suddenly looking a lot less eager for a fight. Or maybe he was just being a Ravenclaw, too uptight about school to want to get in trouble. 

“No, Professor Woodrose,” Fitzroy grumbled. His Gryffindor pals looked disappointed, but they didn’t argue his backing down. Woodrose nodded, then looked pointedly at Sep, who shrugged.

“Guess not,” he said. He took a few steps back and grinned. “I was just talking to Mr Moody here. Minding my own business, you know?”

Sun-Filled Days of Youth || May 30 1970

Yes, it was definitely a good idea no one could choose what animal they wanted to be. The kid did consider a more practical choice, but it was only brief. The allure of being a large scary beast was apparently too tempting to ignore. Alastor chuckled a little. “Fair enough.” 

A few students trickled out of Honeydukes and stopped just outside the door. One of them glanced over at Sep and then at Alastor and back to Sep again before turning to his mates. The small group, four, were huddled around each other and talking among themselves. Another student turned his head and looked at Sep and then back to the group. Since the students weren’t wearing their uniforms, he didn’t know to which house they belonged. Come to think of it, he didn’t know Sep’s either but he was sure he could get it in two guesses or fewer. 

Alastor remembered the house rivalries, and sometimes they got too carried away. Most of the time, nothing serious ever happened; just a few harmless pranks here and there. Not that he would know anything about that. He took another glance at the group, trying to assess what it was they might be doing. It was difficult to tell their ages, but they looked as if they could be in the same year as Sep. He tilted his head toward the group, “Looks like some of your classmates might want to have a chat with you.”

Seeing as he really didn’t have any responsibility toward breaking up school related things, he considered leaving Sep to whatever fate had in store. Whichever professor was on duty would probably not appreciate him interfering with school business not only because he wasn’t staff but also because he worked for the Ministry. Besides all that, he didn’t have the patience of dealing with students. Trainees, sometimes. There was another thing his boss wanted him to improve on; he mentally rolled his eyes. If the recruits couldn’t handle his albeit rough and tough approach to teaching, then how were they going to make it out in the field when lives could be at stake? His boss hadn’t bought the argument. After all, why train the recruits as if they were going to be facing extremely dark wizards and witches when in reality, there were hardly any truly dangerous ones to deal with? His boss had a point. But Alastor was taught that just because there isn’t one now doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t be prepared anyway. Better safe than sorry, or worse, dead. 

“Well, should I leave you to whatever it is they want to talk with you about,” he asked Sep.

The kids hadn’t escaped Sep’s notice. Despite the impression he often gave, he wasn’t as oblivious as most people assumed, at least not to potential threats or confrontations. He’d quickly caught the way the group of students were glancing his way, though it was their whispering that had his hackles rising. He recognized them as a mish-mash of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws from his year. What did they want? Their continued sneaky looks and murmurs were rubbing him the wrong way, so he tossed a rude gesture in their direction and turned back towards Moody.

“Dunno what their problem is,” he said with a shrug. Behind his nonchalance, he was searching his mind for some reason he may have crossed them. It was less a case of nothing coming to mind and instead rather the opposite. Was it that ruckus at the last Quidditch game? That time last week when he’d made McGonagall angry enough to give everyone extra homework in the Transfiguration class the Slytherins shared with the Gryffindors? Actually-- he took a closer look at one of the Ravenclaw boys, who seemed to be glaring at him the most intensely…

“Might’ve snogged one of their birds,” he admitted. That was probably what it was. But what was the point in getting cross with him? The idiot ought to be mad at his girlfriend. Or maybe treat her better, so she wouldn’t want to be kissing other boys! It had hardly been anything anyways! Just a bit of kissing in the corridor. He didn’t know what the guy’s problem was.

Moody didn’t seem to want to get involved, which Sep couldn’t really blame him for. He shrugged again and gave a rough bark of laughter. “Don’t worry, I can handle that lot. They’re just a lot of talk.” He sneered in the other students’ direction.

This seemed to finally prompt an actual response from them. “Oi, Crabbe!” the Ravenclaw boy called out. “Got no friends, so you have to pester random blokes off the street now?”

“Yeah!” one of his friends chimed in. “Where’s that pompous little prat Malfoy? Or is even he sick of you now?”

She saw the cloaked figure disappear from the rooftop, only to pop in front of her seconds laters, but Marlene was ready to confront him. She offered hima glare filled with contempt. She remembered the times in which her heart would race wild at the sight of those dark figures with silver masks, thinking about the murderer that hid behind, about how perhaps she had crossed paths with them a thousand times and never knew. Just a year ago, that thought alone would threaten to take the heart of her, and she’d have to fight and swallow her fear like a bad pill. Now? Now she just wanted them gone so that she could enjoy one bloody day in peace without having to be called into action because they’d decided to blow something up. She was really, really getting tires of them and their stupid masks and their fucking curses.

“Where the fuck’s Manhattan?” she repeated in disbelief “Oh, c’mon. Manhattan? Seriously? New York? No? No bell? Damn, the Dark Lord really has low standards for his soldiers” she rolled her eyes “Says the one who was one spell short of summoning a bowl of popcorn while that poor woman was on the verge of becoming spider food. You’re revolting” she pointed out. Maybe she used humor and sarcasm as a bit of a coping mechanism. But in her own experience, there were worst habits to pick up as coping mechanism.

“How’d you get the nasty hairy beasts to follow your orders anyways?” she asked, genuinely curious, her tone casual, even as she fired a hex towards the Death Eater. Perhaps her casual tone of conversation might distract them, maybe not. In any case, Marlene always tried to fire first, she found that it gave her a certain advantage, if only to get her head in the game. “So, are we going to fight or exchanging friendly banter? Because I’ll admit, the second option does sound better, but unfortunately unlikely”.

Sep, who had initially bristled at the witch’s disdain for his lack of geographical know-how, snorted a laugh at her follow-up rebuke. “Well, it’d be a bit stupid of me to bring a load of spiders into the village if I was gonna be squeamish about them hurting people,” he pointed out. Ha! he thought. Who’s the dumb one now? He grinned behind his mask. He was enjoying this back and forth more than he’d expected, though he still kept a wary eye on her wand.

Not to mention their surroundings. At any moment reinforcements could show up to come to Marlene’s aid, or a spider could decide they looked like a tasty pair of snacks. He couldn’t let himself get too distracted. 

Which was for the best, as Marlene combined her next question with a hex. Sep dodged to the side and cast a Shield spell, which deflected the hex into a window across the street from them. It shattered in a flurry of glass. Sep laughed, adrenaline running through him. This was what he lived for.

“Don’t think so little of them!” he said, shooting a Stinging curse back at her. “They’re smarter than most of your lot, I’d say! They know which side is best for them!” She certainly didn’t need to know the difficulties they’d gone through to convince the spiders to help them, nor how close he’d come to getting eaten by them on a couple of occasions. He followed up the Stinging hex with another Shield charm, in case she was quick to counter the attack.

“Look, babe, I’m not the one with all the questions and comments here,” he added. Her anger was so palpable that it was almost more fun to tease her than to shoot curses her way. Sep loved a good fight, when fury hummed in the air like an electric charge and every word and step was thrumming with potential violence. It was the sort of thing that made him feel powerful. That made him feel alive.

Experience had taught Sep to leave 'Auntie' Gladys' birthday gifts unopened until the actual date of his birthday -- something she miraculously always seemed to remember, despite consistently getting his actual age wrong. He wasn't about to argue her thinking him a handful of years younger than he was, though. Especially with the big 3-0 looming on the horizon of the following year. Luckily, he didn't have long to wait to open the present, and on the morning of September 25th, he tore it open with a grin.

Summoning his admittedly limited good manners, he composed a reply:

Dear Gladys (and Jeremy),

Thanks very much! Birthday's good so far. Gonna meet up with Ramsey later for drinks. Don't worry, I'll keep all the brandy for myself!

Aurie and Wee Vinnie say hello.

-Septimus

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius agreed off-handedly. He might not be a Black heir anymore, but money was no problem for him, and having to pay for a toy wouldn’t make a slightest difference to his finances. The haughty airs flew away as soon as Sirius got what he wanted, and he studied the dog with the focus he only afforded stuff that did genuinely interest him. 

“It’s really well made,” Sirius offered, no back-hand compliment this time. It was well made. The toy itself carved and done beautifully, the charms making it appear like a real dog where it padded along Crabbe’s palm. And Crabbe had managed to capture Padfoot too. The shagginess of his fur, the curiosity that always filled Sirius so intensely with the added layers to explore the world with through Padfoot’s senses. And the guardianship, the alertness and awareness of it’s surroundings, learned not only through the hard lessons offered by, amongst others, Crabbe but through the efforts of keeping Moony at bay. 

Sirius reached for the toy. “How much for it?” 

Sep reluctantly let Sirius have a closer look at the dog. The little toy showed no distress at being handed over to a potential threat, simply wagging its tail and barking silently. A tiny pink tongue lolled from its mouth. The toys were designed with children in mind, so they were hardier than they first appeared, so Sirius would have to try fairly hard to damage it. Still, Sep didn’t trust him not to try. The memories of past encounters with the other wizard were flitting through his mind. Were he in Sirius’ shoes now, he likely wouldn’t pass up the opportunity for petty revenge.

To his surprise, no such pettiness seemed imminent. Instead, Sirius’ interest seemed genuine as he leaned forward to inspect the little dog. Sep still didn’t trust him -- he was a bloody Order of the Phoenix member, after all! Not to mention a blood traitor -- but he was starting to suspect that Sirius might actually be impressed. Which shouldn’t matter to him one bit, of course.

But deep down, it did. Not because it was Sirius Black, whose opinion Sep normally wouldn’t even think to consider, but because when it came to his work, Sep lapped up any and all praise. “Ta,” he said grudgingly. “It is.” He worked hard on each and every one of his creations, putting more effort into his work than he’d ever put into school or the private studies of high society.

His brows rose toward his hairline at the request for a price. Sirius actually wanted to buy one? Why? What was his game here? Sep was so surprised, he blurted out “Six Galleons,” before it occurred to him that he could have made up a higher price. It was the price he knew they sold for in the shops, give or take a handful of Sickles and Knuts. Expensive for a toy, but not when all the long-lasting charms worked into it were taken into account.

Sun-Filled Days of Youth || May 30 1970

Sep’s imagination was…well, imaginative. Alastor couldn’t think of another way of putting it. The kid seemed to know a number of different beasts, particularly the large ones. Clearly he’d done his research or really liked Care of Magical Creatures. A large hairy spider called a Hairy MacBoon? That one he was going to have to look up so that he would be able to identify it and stay well clear of it. He didn’t really like beasts; not outwardly hated them or anything like that but he sure as hell didn’t want to have to deal with one if he didn’t have to. Then of course there was the manticore and a dragon thrown into the mix. The choices tossed out reaffirmed his assumption about the kid.

His knowledge about Animagi was limited, but he was sure that the form couldn’t be chosen. He’d heard of a patronus changing under very special circumstances, but he didn’t know anyone who had a different one than what they started out with. Maybe it was the same with animagi, but he wasn’t sure. “Don’t think you choose, unfortunately.” It was fortunate they couldn’t. All the beasts running amok, even if there weren’t that many of them, would be a nightmare. Speaking of nightmares, Sep had singled out the manticore for his choice. “Yeah, not many people would be picking on you,” he chuckled.

Alastor scratched his chin, thinking about what he’d choose. Finally, after a few moments, he answered. “Maybe some sort of owl. A great horned owl, yeah. Large enough not to be bothered, and ordinary enough not to be noticed. Excellent hearing and night vision.” There was also an advantage of flying too, which would be very useful for following or trying to find someone. Sometimes the best disguises were ones that were in plain sight.

Having given his answer, he wondered how long it took for someone to get used to their animal form. Something like a cat or dog might be easier to get used to, but flying or having five legs would definitely take some time getting used to. Maybe if he ever got the chance, he’d ask the transfiguration teacher what the whole process was like.

“So, you being a manticore, what would you do,” he asked. He couldn’t imagine there was a whole lot a manticore could do, except scare the shit out of several people. Admittedly, he could see how someone would find that entertaining for a while. Sep would probably have to find somewhere pretty secluded to avoid attracting unwanted attention by the Ministry’s beasts division. Of course, someone could cause a lot of damage if they wanted to. All the better that animagi had to register themselves.

Sep groaned at Moody’s answer. So there really was no choosing which animal you became. That at least answered the question of why more people didn’t become Animagi. Who wanted to go through all the trouble if you ended up turning into an earthworm or a sea cucumber or something else totally rubbish? At least Moody seemed to approve of his hypothetical choice. 

Better yet, he seemed up for playing along and considering what animal he would become, too. Sep raised his brows at the choice. An owl? His first instinct was to scoff. Owls were common as toast! What would be the fun in that? But he managed to hold his tongue as Moody explained his choice. It was still a bit dull -- who cared that you could hear and see well? -- but it gave him a chance to think of other qualities being an owl would include. You’d be able to fly, for one. That would be pretty fantastic. And he supposed that being able to see at night would be pretty cool. On the other hand, you’d probably always be dealing with witches and wizards trying to get you to deliver their mail. That’d get annoying fast.

“I guess that could be cool,” he said generously. Moody was an Auror, so he guessed it could be handy. No one in the magical world looked twice at an owl hanging around, because they were so commonplace. It would probably make for pretty good spying.

Despite the fairly intriguing avenue of thought this opened up, Sep was still happy to return to imagining his life as a manticore. He laughed, enjoying the mental image of running around as the massive scorpion-tailed beast. “I dunno! Just run around, I guess. Scare anyone who was being a nuisance.” He didn’t add that the first people he would turn his newfound power on would be his father and uncle. Those two bastards would think twice before they ever raised hand or wand to him or his sisters ever again. Probably best not to mention that to some random bloke, let alone an auror.

Oh of course. Why should this jumped up half-blood receive any thanks when he’d made the mission a success? Why should the great Septimus Crabbe, probably not first of his name given how purebloods worked, have to sully himself with gratitude. Bastard. Snape spat again, half muttering the last word of his internal diatribe.

In fairness, he had mucked it up, but only as much as Crabbe no doubt would have mucked it up if he’d been the one doing the talking. So he thought at least. But regardless of who had and had not caused the dangerous frisson they had felt in the woods, they were clear now, mostly. Severus noticed a fallen tree a little away from them and remembered his running battle in these same woods. He was thinking far too much about things and he felt sick and he didn’t like the aura Crabbe was giving off and he wanted to go back to Spinners End and sit down or lie down in a dark room and never think of spiders again. Alright maybe not Spinners End then.

“I calmed my emotions.” He didn’t know if he should try to show off his skill as an occlumens to Crabbe. If he had freely mentioned Goyle’s alleged patronus, and Severus wasn’t sure how common he wanted the knowledge that he could conceal his thoughts being. It was always good to prove his abilities, but aside from the Dark Lord, every other member of their organisation might view it as a threat. “It is a form of mental magic, One that is likely far beyond your ken.”

His superior sneer was quickly cut short as karma force-fed him some more humble pie. He had another bout of nausea and paused until the sick feeling stopped swimming in the pit of his stomach. A small groan escaped the tight press of his lips at the thought of that ‘worse’.

“Very chatty now, aren’t you.” He muttered waspishly, angry at himself for feeling weak and Crabbe for not doing so.

“Mental magic,” Sep scoffed. Snape hadn’t uttered an incantation or even raised his wand, so what sort of magic could it have been? He was probably just trying to sound impressive. Who did he think he was? The Dark Lord? Like some scummy little rat like Snape could manage magic akin to what their leader did. He’d probably just managed to calm himself down through sheer force of will and was now trying to make it sound like a bigger deal. “Sure.”

It was especially difficult to believe that Snape would be capable of something so impressive when Sep glanced over his shoulder at him, only to find the other wizard once again hunched over and retching. His scoff had a distinctly laugh-like edge to it this time. He was in much too good of a mood now to be much bothered by Snape’s sharp words. “Well, we’re out of the woods now,” he said, gesturing around them. As he did so, he stepped out into the open of the field, leaving the trees behind him. He wondered if the invisible ward was right at the treeline. Had he just stepped through it? He hadn’t felt anything. No tingle on his skin or even the slightest sensation of resistance. Then again, Dumbledore’s magic was surely as subtle as it was powerful. He wondered what else it was keeping contained within the forest. How did it differentiate between what was allowed through and what wasn’t? He had no idea how a powerful ward like that might work. Knowing Dumbledore, the old bastard had probably invented the bloody spell himself.

In any case, now that they were away from the forest, they were truly safe from the spiders. Sep’s spirits rose further on the wings of relief and he laughed. “And now we’ve got a plan! The Dark Lord’s gonna be pleased when we tell him the spiders will help!” As long as they could hold up their end of the deal. But Sep wasn’t worried about that. There wasn’t anything the Dark Lord couldn’t do, so breaking a hole in a ward would be child’s play for him.

“Plus,” he added, “We have a whole month before we have to see that lot again.” He tossed an exaggerated grimace in the direction of the trees behind them. “All in all, coulda gone a lot worse.”

Why Did It Have to Be Spiders? || Septimus & Marlene || Sep. 28th 1980.

Spiders! Why did it have to be spiders? Marlene already hated them well enough when they were tiny and meant her no harm at all. But giant spiders who were constantly gloating about what a nice meal they’d make out of her was a whole new level of “ICK!”.

Though compared to the many other atrocious attacks Voldemort and his followers had unleashed in the past, this one seemed almost childish (if it wasn’t for the human-eating part of the spiders), Marlene found herself almost wishing she could face a couple of lose dementors instead (and dementors were particularly brutal to her fragile emotional stability!). At least they talked less and weren’t covered in hair.

“I swear on Merlin and the All-Mighty God!” she hissed, blasting a couple of smaller acromantulae from her path “I’m going to fully dedicate myself to develop a spell that shoots spider repellent out of my wand! Ugh! Bloody Hell!”. She raised her left foot after stepping on the discarded body of one of the nasty little beasties and swore loudly. Now her favourite pair of combat boots were ruined.

She heard a scream a couple of streets ahead, so she stopped wasting time on the unfortunate incident with her boots, and rushed towards the sound. A spider, far larger than the one she had blaster a few blocks back, was looming above a cornered woman, with the dark cloaked figure of a Death Eater lurking close by. Marlene slipped her fingers into her mouth and emitted a well-tuned whistle.

“Oi! Fly-breath! How would you like a little hot on your arse?” she screamed, catching the attention of the acromantula and drawing it away from the terrified woman, giving her the chance to escape. Marlene did not waste time either, and before the spider had even started walking towards her, she fired a stunning spell followed by an exploding charm. The spider squealed, froze and then blew up in bits and pieces. Marlene made a disgusted face, and kicked a hairy limb out of her way, before turning to face the Death Eater.

“Nice little stunt you lot have pulled this time” she pointed out, almost casually, while uncoiling her favourite fire whip from the end of her wand “Really wish I had seen Voldemort’s face when he announced you would be unleashing spiders in town like the plot of a lame Hollywood movie about giant creatures attacking Manhattan or something”

@crabbeapple

Things were going surprisingly well. Sep had apparated to the relative safety of the roof of The Three Broomsticks and was watching the chaos unfold. The spiders seemed to be sticking to their word and weren’t attacking the Dark Lord or any of his followers, but Sep was still keen to stay out of their way as much as possible. For all he knew, they might get over-excited and forget who was on their side and who wasn’t. He’d lost sight of Lord Voldemort for the moment, as well as Snape and the other Death Eaters, but he wasn’t too worried, distracted by the sight of the massive spiders running riot. Every now and then he spotted a black-robed figure in a mask, but had no sure way of knowing who was who from his perch on the roof. 

He’d been nervous leading up to this attack. The Dark Lord had been confident that he could dismantle Dumbledore’s ward around the Forbidden Forest enough to let some of the Acromantulae who lived within the trees through, but Sep hadn’t been able to stop his heart from hammering at the thought of coming face to face with the beasts again. They’d been pretty keen to eat him both previous times he’d met with them and he wasn’t sure how many more times his luck would hold out. On top of that, Snape had seemed even grouchier and sullen than usual, which had only further put Sep on edge. 

His mood was much improved now, though, and he hummed a jaunty little tune as he watched a medium-sized spider chase a witch down the street below. The creature soon had the woman cornered in the doorway of the pub, right below where Sep sat. He leaned forward, interested to see what the kill would look like. 

Only to be disappointed when the prey promptly escaped, as the spider was distracted by a furious screech. A familiar blonde witch was making a beeline for the spider, firing a quick pair of spells at it. To Sep’s dismay, the spells hit their mark and he barely had time to lean back out of the way before the spider violently exploded. A dismembered leg flew through the air where Sep’s head had been a moment earlier.

“Oi!” he shouted, unjustifiably irked by this development. With a snap of Apparation, he disappeared from the rooftop and reappeared down on the street, wand raised and glare aimed at the witch. Her name was Marlene Something-Or-Other and he recognized her not only as one of Dumbledore’s lot, but a Hit Witch, too. A dangerous opponent, but no one that Sep didn’t think he could take in a pinch. She was snarling at him now and Sep prepared himself to cast a Shield charm, lest she try to blow him up, too.

“Yes, I can see that,” Sirius responded in a slow, soothing tone to the announcement that the things were toys, as if speaking to someone that was quite slow and easy to temper. Well, it was Crabbe, so. He withdrew his hand back to his side as Crabbe stepped to shield his creations, eyes rolling as only a child spoilt and denied what he fancied for the moment being could. “I want to look at ‘em. Gonna deny the nice shop-lady a chance for a paying customer, eh?” 

Sirius looked through the shop window just as Crabbe had, hands digging into the pockets of his leather jacket as he too noticed the lady being busy at the moment. Fun. Sirius took a step to the side, steel grey eyes scanning the dogs padding around in their boxes. It was him, indeed. If Crabbe only knew that. Sirius laughed. “Gotta say, Crabs, never would expect a troll like you being able to make something so intricate.” Sirius smiled in the same condescending air he had just spoken to Crabbe with when he had agreed to that it was yes indeed toys. “Kudos, man.”

Sep bristled. What was it about Sirius that he could rankle him so much with so few words? He had a snotty way of talking, like he was certain he was better than Sep in every possible way. It wasn’t an uncommon tone to hear amongst Purebloods, but it was especially irksome coming from someone who had effectively been booted from proper society. He was a blood traitor, so what right did he have to act like he was superior? Sep considered knocking some sense into him.

Unfortunately, the little shite had a point. He didn’t want to upset the shopkeeper. She was one of his main suppliers and if she decided not to do business with him anymore because he started a fight outside her door, his business would undoubtedly suffer for it. Far more than hers would. Sirius Black wasn’t worth the trouble.

“You break it, you buy it,” he said grudgingly, picking up one of the little dogs and holding it up for Sirius to see. It padded around his palm, sniffing the air and wagging its shaggy tail. Like the beast that had inspired it, it was black-furred, looking almost like the Grim. It was that association that had caught Sep’s interest, as he loved the idea of the death omen dog, to the point that he’d given the name to his own dog. Grim was a rottweiler, though, and didn’t look nearly as much like the actual omen as the dog he’d spotted had. He wondered what breed it had been. Maybe it was a mutt of some sort. He hoped he’d spot it again at some point.

Toys Are Us | Sirius&Septimus

Time: Morning

Timeline: September, 1980

Location: Diagon Alley

Place: The street

Who: Sirius Black, Septimus Crabbe: @crabbeapple

“Oi!” Sirius’ voice called out in the autumn morning, a sharp sound dripping with the natural assumption of getting the attention of the one he called. Septimus Crabbe, Sirius noted as his gaze lifted from the toy that had caught his attention to take in the one delivering it to the toy shop. Sirius knew Crabbe was in the toy business, of course - try as he might, it was difficult not to be in the know in about the Who’s in the British Wizarding World in the level of society that he once had belonged to and now fought to cut all ties with. It was more difficult than Sirius had anticipated. The world was small, and even if he wasn’t a part of it anymore, a walking pariah of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he was still there, no matter how much his family might wish he was indeed blasted off the earth. Hopefully, Sirius would manage to crumble their world before he left it behind. 

“Wha’s that there?” Sirius gestured to the toys that looked all too familiar, a large black dog with features he had gazed upon plenty of times in the mirrors of the lakes and springs of the forests. Padfoot. Him. A curl of slight amusement lifted the corner of Sirius’ mouth, strengthening the air of arrogant expectation to get answers from Crabbe: however much Sirius had tried to leave his old life behind, some of the characters values his parents had tried to instil in him lingered. Curiosity and the assumption of having the right to anything he wanted, Sirius began to reach for one of the dogs to take a closer look, the fact that it was Crabbe’s wares not being a big enough hindrance to stop the motion. Sirius wasn’t the little boy that had tried to avoid Crabbe and Goyle and Bellatrix anymore. The ongoing war had brought even to Sirius some sort of maturity underneath his air of carefree flippancy and still, at large, immaturity. He was more confident in his person, in his stance, in that he had skills that could match, or even maybe rival, those that had been his childhoods’ tormentors. One of many. Crabbe wasn’t perhaps just a dumb bully, it would be dangerous to assume stupidity in any person, but he was a bully all the same, cowardly finding amusement in toying with a much younger child. 

Well. Sirius was no child any longer, and his shoulders set as he reminded himself that and pushed away from the lingering emotions from a childhood he did his best to ignore. “Well, c’mon, lemme have a look.”

It wasn’t entirely uncommon for Sep to be greeted with a sharp ‘Oi!’. He’d come to be able to read well the many possible nuances of the monosyllabic word, judging in a matter of seconds if it was happy, annoyed, angry or simply a call for his attention. It was, more often than not, the second or third option when it came to him. This time, however, it sounded more like the latter. He looked up from the front table of the toyshop -- a temporary set-up on the cobbles outside the shop itself, in a bid by the owner to take advantage of the nice weather -- to look over in the direction the call had come from. At the sight of a familiar face, his eyes narrowed. Sirius bloody Black.

“What d’you want?” he asked, moving to stand between Black and the toys he’d brought for drop-off at the shop. The owner had told him to wait there until she could get back to him with payment, but a glance through the window showed that she’d gotten waylaid by the demands of customers. Great. Now he’d be stuck out here with the shame of the whole Black family.

It had been a while since he’d last seen Sirius and longer still since he’d actually spoken to him. Years, probably. He’d spotted him in various attacks, fighting alongside the rest of Dumbledore’s lot, but the last time they’d properly interacted escaped him. Probably at one of the countless high society parties their families had dragged them to when they were younger. In Sep’s mind, Sirius would always be a petulant little kid, a prime target for him and Ramsey and occasionally Bellatrix to pick on. Bothering the younger members of the Sacred 28 had been a great way to fend off the boredom of those stupid soirees.

Sirius wasn’t a kid anymore, though, features sharpened and made rugged by dark scruff and a head of hair that Sep’s own short dirty-blond hair couldn’t hope to compete with. He felt his dislike grow the longer he looked at him. “They’re toys,” he said, slightly defensively. “I make them.” Though he was in the process of dropping them off now, he was protective of his creations and wasn’t about to pass one over to Sirius so easily. He’d probably just break it.