⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✧─────────────✧⋆｡˚ ⋆

❨ chapter thirteen. ❩
❛ a taste of war ❜

⋆ ✧ ⋆

    SOMEONE WAS SCREAMING. Sirius could hear the sound somewhere near him, frantic yet muffled. He couldn't see who it was, however; darkness had enveloped him, pinning him to the rough ground which felt damp under his fingertips.

    Slowly, he became aware of the ringing in his ears, the pounding in his head. The taste of metal and smoke was thick in his mouth.

    "Sirius?"

    He turned his head towards the hoarse voice but couldn't get any words out. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe, to cling to the fragment of consciousness he'd found. And still, someone kept screaming.

    "Sirius!"

    A hand was tapping against his cheeks forcefully, another shaking his shoulder violently.

    "Sirius, get up!" This voice sounded frantic too, joining the symphony of screaming and crying that was growing steadily louder and clearer in Sirius' mind. The air, on the other hand, seemed to be getting thinner, fainter.

    "Open your eyes, c'mon."

    Gasping for air, Sirius' eyes flew open. He leaned up on his elbows and doubled over, retching violently.

    A hand began tugging at his shirtsleeves. "Come on... Come on, you dolt!"

    Sirius blinked rapidly at the man struggling to pull him to his feet and gaped. "James? What-"

    "Move!" James snarled, pushing Sirius roughly. Blood was trickling down the side of James' forehead, and his face was smudged with soot. His robes were singed in places, still smoking faintly as James steered them around the platform.

    The ringing in Sirius' head seemed to dissipate instantaneously at the sight of his best friend's haggard appearance. The haze shrouding his mind lifted, and the realization of where he was and what had happened came crashing down upon Sirius.

    He plunged a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his wand, casting a long look at his surroundings as James all but dragged him towards the opposite end of the platform, which had just moments ago been rocked by a small explosion, pulling the ground from under Sirius' feet.

    Pandemonium had engulfed platform 9 ¾. Everyone was running, shouting. Some witches and wizards were hurling spells, many others were herding crying children and agitated pets, trying to shove their way past the barrier that separated the Wizarding world from the Muggle one. Smoke and soot filled the platform in thick waves, and the acrid smell of burnt rubber was growing stronger the further Sirius walked.

    Then he saw them.

    Masked and wearing black, billowing cloaks: the Death Eaters. There were many of them, and they were storming the platform, striding along its length as one menacing group. Jets of red and purple and orange came flying from the group amongst jeers and howls. People fled from them, desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the Death Eaters.

    But there was nowhere to run. The platform wasn't wide enough, and for some reason, the crowd did not seem to be getting any smaller even though more and more people were racing towards the exit.

    As though he had read Sirius' mind, James yelled over the noise, "The barrier has been closed down. Blocked. No one can get through."

    Sirius swore.

    "Where're the guards?" James wondered out loud as the two boys swept along the length of the platform, searching for any sign of their friends and family.

    "Bet they were overpowered easily," answered Sirius, eyeing the horde of Death Eaters. There would never have been anywhere near enough guards on the platform to defend the unsuspecting families from Death Eaters.

    "Where's everyone else?" asked Sirius, trying to keep the panic burgeoning within him at bay, "Your mum and dad? Lily? The other boys?"

    A jet of purple light flew so close to Sirius and James it singed a part of their shirtsleeves.

    "Dunno," replied James, barely concealing his own fear, "Mum and dad were alright last I saw them. Mum went to help Mr. MacDonald hold off the Death Eaters, and Dad..."

    James trailed off, casting an anxious look around him.

    "I'm sure he's fine," said Sirius automatically. In the distance, through the smoke and shimmer, he saw a flash of long, red hair. He pointed at the figure and called out, "Hey, isn't that Evans?"

    "Bloody — yeah, it is her!"

    And before Sirius could say anything, James was sprinting away in Lily's direction. Sirius made to follow, but he became distracted when a man suddenly slammed into him. Sirius let out a roar of frustration and instinctively turned his wand upon the stranger.

    "No!" yelped the man, catching Sirius' wrist and shoving it away from his face. Half of the man's face was drenched in blood, which was gushing from a cut running from his brow to his chin. His icy blue eyes looked wild as they bore into Sirius', and a rasping sound issued from his mouth as he said, "I'm not one of them."

    Sirius blinked but did not lower his wand.

    "Ellis!" a woman's shriek rose over the din of the crowd, and the injured man whirled around.

    BANG!

    Looking over the man's shoulder, Sirius saw one of the end train compartments being blown to smithereens, shards of metal and thick black smoke filling the air around it. In what seemed like mere seconds, bright orange and yellow flames had licked their way down the entire train.

    As the Hogwarts Express burned furiously, heat and blinding light flowed from it and drenched the narrow strip of landing beside the railway tracks. Sweat gathered at Sirius' temples, and he could feel it trickling down his back as he pushed the man away and walked blindly towards where he thought he'd seen James disappear.

    As he pushed past a group of Hufflepuffs, his feet slipped a little on the floor. Glancing down, he blanched as he saw blood smeared across the dirty, ash-strewn floor.

    He saw familiar faces as he fought his way through the agitated throng of people who were all scrambling to find refuge behind the gigantic pillars and archways of King's Cross station. Mary MacDonald's blonde curls were flying wildly as she and three other Hogwarts students Sirius did not recognize fought two Death Eaters. Sirius aimed a curse at them, but the Death Eater happened to cast a shield charm that very moment, causing the jinx to rebound upon one of the students instead. The burly boy fell to the floor unceremoniously, his legs snapped shut by Sirius' leg-locker curse.

    Swearing under his breath, Sirius trudged on. There was Marlene McKinnon, standing between her brother and sister under one of the huge archways that lined the side of the platform. They were casting and maintaining shield charms to protect a group of what looked like a dozen children, all huddled together and shrinking away from the scrimmage raging before their eyes.

    Along the platform, he also spotted Mr. Potter as the older man dragged a body to safety; whether the wizard he was dragging was dead or simply unconscious, Sirius could not tell. And still Sirius walked, searching for some sign of James, Remus, or Peter. The pressure building in his chest intensified as the noise surrounding him escalated, fresh shrieks and bangs renting the summer air.

    Sirius realized with a wave of fury that the Death Eaters weren't actually attacking anyone. They were strolling the platform, jeering at and teasing the frightened crowd. Every now and then, he found a masked figure engaged in a duel with a group of students or else with a witch or wizard who was clearly no match for the brutal skills the Death Eaters displayed when dueling. A group of five Death Eaters were crowded around a man who was hanging from his ankles some fifty feet in the air. Sickened at the sight, Sirius moved forward to distract the Death Eaters, knocking into a pair of wizards who seemed to be wrestling furiously.

    Then he did a double take.

    One of the Death Eaters had Peter Pettigrew at his mercy. He had twisted Peter's arms behind his back and was holding him in place, while his other hand was clasped tightly around Peter's throat. Sirius caught a glimpse of Peter's twitching limbs, the round face tinged a sickly blue, before he caught hold of the Death Eater's shoulders from behind, tugged him away from Peter, and rammed the Death Eater sideways. The Death Eater let go of Peter as he was flung to the ground, his wand parting his hand as he fell.

    Turning his own wand upon the now wandless Death Eater, Sirius roared, "Stupefy!"

Heaving, still blue in the face, Peter pointed at something over Sirius' shoulder and gasped, "Petri – Petrificus Totalus!"

    Sirius spotted another masked figure a few paces from himself and Peter. The Death Eater was firing spells into the rushing crowd, careless as to whom it hit.

    "Stupefy!" growled Sirius, and the Death Eater toppled over. Pointing his wand to the fallen figure, he muttered, "Incarcerous!"

    Thick black ropes erupted from his wand and coiled themselves around the unconscious Death Eater. But there were more, so many more Death Eaters swarming the place. Without any platform guards, Aurors, or Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, the Death Eaters easily outnumbered those who had stepped forward to fight.

    "Expelliarmus," he heard Peter yell, and Sirius too began taking aim at any Death Eaters he could.

    Pointing his wand at a Death Eater's back, Sirius barked, "Impedimenta!"

    "Immobulus," yelled Peter.

    "Hebeto Hostillis."

    "Diffindo."

    "Protego."

    Standing with their backs to each other, Peter and Sirius fired a plethora of spells into the dueling crowd around them. Some of their spells found their mark on hooded figures, others ricocheted off the brick walls and showered everyone in sparks.

    "Sirius!" bellowed Peter, and Sirius noted the fear in Peter's voice. Not the fear that overcame Peter when faced with the prospect of getting caught out of bed after curfew or riding a broomstick. It sounded like the fear that seeped into Peter's voice when the Dementors got too close, or when Moony, deranged and not himself during a full moon, behaved a little too viciously for any of them to feel truly safe.

    Sirius looked around and saw Death Eaters bearing down upon them from all sides. He backed away, as did Peter, and the Death Eaters — seven of them in all — drew nearer.

    Out of the corner of his eyes, Sirius caught Peter's eye, who looked at him warningly. The pain in his head was making it harder to focus on anything, and Sirius blinked owlishly at Peter who tilted his head slightly.

    Go, Sirius understood through the haze of pain. Run.

    Sirius barely managed to register Peter's wand, which was still clasped in his hand behind his back, move in a circular motion, and had only just begun to dive sideways, when he heard Peter shout, "CONFRINGO!"

    There was a blast like a cannon being fired, a wave of heat washed over him, and Sirius was thrown into the air.

    He supposed he must have been knocked out because when he opened his eyes, he was lying in a heap on the ground, though he did not remember ever hitting it. He figured he must not have been out for longer than a few seconds because the fight was still raging around him; he could hear it. He tried shifting his aching limbs, but they would not cooperate. It was only then that he became aware of a pressure upon his chest and rolled his head up to find a Death Eater bearing down upon him, a torrent of spells racing overhead.

    "Let's go!" A voice drawled nearby, "It's done. Quickly, now."

    There was an increased amount of voices echoing around the platform, and he could hear what sounded like sirens in the distance. Something had happened in the few seconds he'd been unconscious, he was sure of it.

    Frantic to get away from the Death Eater still pinning him to the floor, Sirius thrashed around with as much force as he could muster. One of his hands collided with the edge of the Death Eater's beaten silver mask. He curled his fingers around the cold mask and wrenched it away. It went flying in the air and landed some ten feet away.

    Chaos still reigned all around him: spells were being fired in every direction, people and pets alike screeched. Sirius, however, couldn't have cared less: Bellatrix Lestrange's haughty face was peering down at him.

    Sirius could not breathe. Shock flooded his veins, numbing everything else, including the pain in his temple and left thigh. He had known for a while now that his family was obsessed with the Dark Arts, that they held Lord Voldemort in high esteem. Yet it still came as a shock that his cousin — his own cousin, who had once sent him exquisite robes and scarves every Christmas, whom he had sat opposite at family dinners, and who had even come to see him off to Hogwarts during his very first year — was now a Death Eater. Here, right before his eyes, was the proof that they'd gone over to the dark side. Finally. Inevitably.

    Feeling as though he'd been doused in iced water, Sirius understood why his uncle had been at the platform. Why Regulus seemed so tense as he gazed up at the giant clock. Why the Slytherins had looked so elated as they stood heckling Sirius and his friends just a few hours ago.

    "You?" he gasped, horrified.

    Bellatrix grinned unabashedly. "I told you to choose your side carefully, didn't I?"

    She pressed the tip of her wand at the nape of his neck, and Sirius felt heat bloom where it met his skin. It burned against his skin, but he didn't even flinch. Something unrecognizable flashed through Bellatrix' eyes. Then she withdrew her wand and, with a last, disdainful look at him, hissed, "Go. Run, before I change my mind."

    With a wave of her wand, the silvery mask flew smoothly back onto her face. She drew up her cloak over her head and within moments had disappeared into the crowd.

    Numbly, Sirius staggered to his feet. Something heavy and harsh was bubbling inside him. He felt sick.

    Through a gap in the smog that curled and swelled around the station, his gaze landed on Lily, James, and Aspen, who were huddled together in the distance. They were all fighting a single Death Eater whose wand slashed through the air so rapidly it was taking the combined efforts of all three of his friends to keep the brute at bay.

    A voice at the back of his mind reminded him that he was supposed to help them, that it was what he needed to do.

    Unable to wrap his mind around what was happening around him, Sirius moved towards his friends rather blindly, but stopped abruptly in his tracks. Everyone else had halted too.

    All around the station, black figures — dark and smoke-like — were rising into the air as one. They remained stationary in the air, ugly yet mesmerizing at the same time as the dark smoke around the figures coiled and uncoiled elegantly. Several feet below them, students, parents, siblings, and pets all watched the dark mass, afraid of what was surely coming their way.

    Then, as suddenly as they had arisen, the dark shapes began streaking along the length of the platform, jets of light emitting from its center. Sirius, like the others around him, ducked and shielded his head with his arms. Glass and metal rained over them amidst the soot and smoke still billowing from the burning train.

    BANG!

    For a third time that day, Sirius felt his feet part from the ground as he was flung into the air again and thrown across the platform. This time, as he collided with a wall and slid down it, Sirius registered the excruciating pain burgeoning in his shoulder. Gasping for air, choking on the fumes from the fire and spells, Sirius slumped against the wall. Blackness was closing in on him again, and something hot and warm was trickling into his eyes, making it harder to see. He struggled against the oncoming oblivion, but his feeble efforts were no match for it.

    He heard a scream, a shout, something that might have been his name. Another bang ripped through the air and made his insides vibrate due to its sheer force.

    And then, Sirius knew no more.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

    NO MATTER WHERE she looked, there was nothing but darkness surrounding her, closing in on her as she attempted to escape its relentless clutches. But even as she felt her feet shuffling along the dark floor, desperate to find a way out, a small part of her knew there was no escaping what she could not see. She was alone, as always, and desperate.

    "Juliette. . ."

    The voice was soft but deep; she knew she had heard that voice before, though the sound of it did not stir a face in her memory. She turned towards the voice, hoping to see who it was, only to be greeted by more darkness. She could not see anything, not even a fleeting shadow, not even her own hand when she held it up to her face. The air rang with the sound of frenzied footsteps, its noise reverberating deep within her, but she could not see what that meant.

    The darkness seemed to grow thicker, darker. Stronger.

    She gasped, choking on air that tasted like smoke and fear.

    Help me, she thought desperately, someone help me!

    But help did not come. It never did.

    In its stead came — as she had known from the moment she'd stepped into this familiar darkness — pain. White hot pain blazed through her veins, lighting her insides on fire, burning her. She doubled over with a yelp of pain, barely aware of the tears streaming down her face. She shut her eyes tightly against the onslaught of pain as it rolled over her once more.

    "Open your eyes, Juliette . . ."

    She did.

    She wished she hadn't.

    The moment she opened her eyes, the darkness seemed to disappear, melting from her sight like ice on skin, quickly and easily. But in its wake lingered the brilliant red and white flashes that had haunted her dreams for days now. No, she thought, what are you? What is this?

    And just like every other time, the answer did not come to her.

    "Juliette!"

    With a gasp, she opened her eyes, for real this time. Horror struck, she found herself still surrounded by white light. It took her a few moments to realize it was the overhead tubelight. She did nothing but blink blearily against its offending brightness. Her head throbbed painfully, as did her arms when she tried to shift them. The floor underneath her was cool, almost comforting against her clammy skin. She let her tired eyes fall shut again. The next thing she knew, someone was tapping her cheek incessantly. She opened her eyes quickly again and turned to find an unusually elegant face looming over her.

    Penny.

    "What. . ." croaked Juliette as she struggled to sit up. Penelope helped pull her into a sitting position. A quick look at her surroundings told her she was in the lobby of the building that housed their apartments.

    Juliette blinked. She had no memory of how she got here.

    The light was too bright, the smell of rain and smog and dettol too thick; the feeling of foreboding was still worrying her senses.

    She felt sick.

    "Juliette, can you hear me?" came Penelope's dulcet voice. Snapping out of her stupor, Juliette turned to see Penelope's ashen face, her brows knitted together, her mouth pressed into a fine line. Hazily, Juliette gathered her thoughts enough to feel bad for collapsing on the other woman like this. "Are you alright?"

    "Fine, fine," answered Juliette instinctively, though she knew she had seldom been less fine. "I'm fine."

    Penelope seemed to think so too for she scoffed lightly. "No, you're not. That was a silly question."

    "What happened?"

    "You fainted," said Penelope, still watching Juliette with an anxious expression on her face, "collapsed, really."

    "Oh."

    "We were waiting for the lift and talking about that new Chinese place that opened up near the station when you," Penelope hesitated, casting a look around the empty lobby, then continued, "you sort of gasped, like you were in pain or something. Then you said something about. . . something being red and. . . well, then you fell to the floor. Knocked out stone cold before you hit the ground, if you ask me."

    Juliette swallowed. It wasn't the first time she had had one of these spells. She had had such episodes, as her mother called them, for as long as she could remember. At first, her family hadn't realized what triggered it, but once they did, Juliette found herself spending more and more time holed up inside the family's stately home and grounds. It was in part due to that why Juliette had been so eager to move to London herself. Now, however, it seemed like she had been childish in her ambitions, naive in her hopes. So foolish.

    "You need to see a doctor. I'll go hail a taxi," Penelope was saying as she pulled Juliette to her feet. "St. Hilda's just down–"

    "No," interrupted Juliette, waving a hand towards Penelope. "Let's just go upstairs."

    "But," began Penelope, but Juliette shook her head.

    "It's nothing," said Juliette sharply, wincing to herself as she registered the annoyance flickering across Penelope's face. Taking in a deep breath, Juliette willed her mind to stop racing enough to say: "Thank you, Penny, but I just need to go home and lie down. It's just exhaustion, nothing more. I haven't been sleeping well, and. . . I just need rest. I'll be good as new tomorrow, you'll see."

    A blatant lie, Juliette knew, but Penelope need not know that.

    Penelope said nothing but regarded Juliette with those piercing dark eyes, as though she could hear exactly what Juliette had been so careful to not say.

    Eventually though, and much to Juliette's relief, Penelope sighed, "If you're sure. . ."

    With a shaky smile from Juliette, the two women gathered their belongings and trudged their way into the dank elevator, their shopping bags jostling as they moved. Juliette still seemed unsure on her feet, and Penelope seemed reluctant to let go of the younger woman's arm, lest she collapse again.

    She would not say it ever, but Juliette was thankful for the support. Only now was it dawning upon her that she had never faced this without her mother before. Nightmares, she could deal with. These episodes? Juliette had no idea what to do.

    All the way up the building and across the fifth floor, the back of Juliette's neck continued prickling. An itch that would not go away no matter how hard she endeavored.

    By the time the elevator doors slid open again, Juliette had managed to control her breathing and was no longer dependent upon the cold elevator walls to keep her upright. She even smiled as she mumbled a clumsy 'I'm so sorry' and 'goodnight, don't worry about me,' to a thoroughly bemused Penelope who looked as though she wanted nothing better than to drag Juliette away and to the nearest Muggle hospital. It was clear from the expression on Penelope's sharp features that she had rather begrudgingly left Juliette alone at her doorstep.

    It was only after she had locked the front door behind her and dropped her shopping by the sofa, did Juliette allow herself to cry.

    It had been foolish, really, of her to think she could start anew in London; to think she could escape her fate so easily.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✧─────────────✧⋆｡˚ ⋆

A/N.
Dun dun dun. Any guesses as to what's up with Juliette? Act 1 is almost over now; I think there are like 5 more chapters at best, and then it's onto the fun (and angsty) stuff. And yes, that means Juliette will indeed be meeting Sirius and everyone else at long long last.

Thank you for reading this chapter of Broken Crown!! Do consider voting and leaving a comment or two :)