❝ FOR FREEDOM.
FOR T R U T H.
AND FOR LOVE. ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍.
1978. Where a squib and a mischief-maker cross
paths at the crux of a war that would eventually
tear apart everything - and everyone - they...
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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.
