Paisley Higgs | (Sirius Black)

Chapter 13- Death Machine

For Matty's 11th birthday, I went with his parents and thousands of sisters (okay, there were only 5) to this gigantic, flashy, no-maj circus in Dallas. Unfortunately, it was actually a pretty awful trip for reasons that may or may not have had something to do with me accidentally breaking the international statute of secrecy— again, accidentally.

That not-so-lovely birthday extravaganza was memorable for many a reason, but the circus act that etched itself into my long-term memory more vividly than any other was the clown car. I remember being so confused on how they jammed 30 people into one teeny tiny, fluorescent pink Volkswagen Beetle. To this day, I stand by my initial assessment that magic had to have been involved, no matter what his mother said.

A similar phenomenon occurred outside of the concert venue that drizzly London night. Only, instead of sweaty clowns it was Lily, Marls, Alice, James, Remus, and countless others, and instead of a pink Volkswagen it was a beat up station-wagon riddled with bird poo poorly parked along the sidewalk. I followed after them, naturally, curious what it would look like inside the vehicle (did the people turn tiny or was the inside ginormous?) when a hand steered me away by my leather jacket clad shoulder toward a creepy dark alley.

"Wrong way, Higgs."

I looked up at Sirius, or attempted to. I hadn't truly grasped how tall he was until this moment. "What are you talking about? I thought you said we were going to the party?"

"We are going to the party."

I side stepped a brown paper bag that was squeaking suspiciously. "Are we taking a portkey?"

"No, no ministry doesn't usually make portkey's for underage partying."

I shrugged his arm off of me. "A floo then?"

"Only public floo open at this time of night is at the leaky cauldron and I doubt they'll let a couple of teenagers wander in there. Dodgy place."

"Well, then how are we getting there?" And why couldn't he just give me a straight answer?

Sirius glanced down, lips tilted in a crooked smile. "We're driving, of course."

"Then shouldn't we go back? They're going to leave without us..."

"Let me clarify. I'll be driving."

It took three seconds. Three horrible lingering seconds for me to connect the dots. I crossed my arms over my chest. "No."

Sirius smirked and put a hand on my back, leading me further down the creepy damp cobbled alley, past a giant dumpster that was probably infested with raccoons or hobos or trash dragons. "This way, Higgs."

A dark shape appeared beneath a flickering lamp. The motorcycle. He couldn't really expect... "Sirius, this isn't funny. Can we please just go back?"

"So that you can risk life and limb with Davey's brother at the wheel? Not likely. I told you I planned to keep you out of trouble." Sirius reached the motorcycle and began digging around in the side satchel thingies.

"So you plan to make me ride on this... this death machine instead?"

Aforementioned death machine was glimmering ominously in the lamplight and reeked of exhaust. "Her name is Cassandra." As he rummaged around, I noticed something was different from the last time I'd seen the bike... No side car. "And she's not a death machine."

"I don't care if it's name is Queen Elizabeth the third, I'm not getting on this... this thing!"

"Of course you're not," he said much too casually. "Not without a helmet."