Chapter Text
SIRIUS POV
Sirius Black.
That’s who I am. I am Sirius Black.
But when I looked in the shop window as I passed it, I wasn’t Sirius Black.
I was a stranger.
My face, my hands, my legs, my arms, my feet, my chest, my stomach, my knees, my neck, my— You get it, my entire body. It was ruined.
Now I know what you're thinking. You’ve ruined your perfect skin with some burns. What’s the big deal? How vain are you?!
I am a vain person. I can admit that.
But this wasn’t a burn or scratch. It was far, far worse.
I was a monster.
Imagine a blister. A squishy, repulsive looking blister. Well my body was covered in horrific, blister-like skin. I was the Halloween character that even the teenagers were too scared to dress up as. I was the monster under the bed. I am- No. I was.
I was Sirius Black. Past tense.
*
I turned the shop corner, trying to seem inconspicuous. I didn't know if my mother or Dumbledore had realised I was gone by now, but if they had I couldn't make a spectacle of myself. I couldn't be seen, they had eyes everywhere, and nowhere or one was safe.
The passers by ignored me, but that was probably because of how dodgy I looked, wearing all black and my hood up. They thought the hood was dodgy? They didn't realise how grateful they should be to not see the horrors underneath. But we've talked about that enough already.
Sorry, just been informed that we need to talk about my looks more in the next few scenes. I'll just shush and do what Eli says.
As I darted through the alley I couldn't help noticing the lack of doors, windows or anything that would allow me to actually get into the building. Evan had said in the letter that this was the place, but had I gotten the address wrong?
“Sirius Black as I live and breathe,” spoke a deep, yet youthful voice behind me. I recognised it instantly. I had always been good with voices.
“Barty Crouch Jr. you dirty little-” I started to growl while spinning around to face the 16, now maybe 17, year old boy who was lazily leaning against the grimy wall. I couldn't see where he had appeared from.
His dark, but not quite black hair, sharp cheekbones and jawline, tall slim frame and aristocratic manner meant he could easily be mistaken for a Black, perhaps even my brother or cousin, but he wasn't a direct relative. I think we might have been connected by our great uncles, but that was it. The main reason I knew him and his disgusting person was Regulus. Ever since they were small they had been best friends.
“Now, now Sirius, there is no need for any disagreements here. We want to help you, remember?” He drawled, grinning in a slightly more than insane way. I scowled, though he couldn't see my face. I had kept my head bowed. I didn’t need him seeing me, and making a fool out of me. It was bad enough I had been found, I didn’t need to be ridiculed too.
“We? You, Barty Crouch Jr, the pathetic little boy who can't even kill his targets, want to help me? I don't want your help. Run back to Daddy and stay out of my way.”
He laughed, but I could see the wince, the tightness in his face when I mentioned his inability to kill. He stepped forward, waving his hand, as if trying to wave the comment away.
“Yes, my name wasn’t at the end of the letter that Evan sent you, but that doesn't mean I'm not involved. You see Black, not everyone is exactly like their fathers, or in your case, mothers. I'm not a back stabbing, mindless, lonely git. Not at the moment anyway.”
I started to speak but he raised a hand to silence me. I was so intrigued and shocked he was there to actually help me, I let him continue.
“I have friends, including Evan and your own brother, so if you actually want help from us, then please, after you,” he continued, whilst tapping at the mold covered wall, looking very much like someone that had lost their mind. It wouldn't shock me.
“I am nothing like my mother, you slimy bastard, and how do I know you're not leading me into a- Evan?!”
While I was ranting, a doorway had simply appeared into the once very solid wall. A secret entrance. Interesting. But what was more interesting was the head and shoulders that popped out of the door and into view. Evan. Barty hadn’t been lying.
“After you,” Barty repeated, bowing mockingly.
I did as he said and stepped inside. I found myself in a large open room with a high ceiling and a set of stairs in one corner leading upstairs and down into a basement. In another corner was an impressive computer setup, monitors showing what looked like medical records, camera feeds and pictures of what looked like the same person with their back turned to the camera in every shot. On the desk were also three objects, something too thin to see, but had light emitting from it, a red lump of what looked like cloth, and finally a jar filled with nothing.
In the opposite corner was a sitting area, a battered but comfy looking sofa and two large armchairs that looked suspiciously like the ones from Mid Town High 6th form, though I wasn’t sure if either Evan or Barty went there. On the wall in front of them was a massive chalkboard, completely clean.
In the last free corner, the fourth being where the staircases were, was nothing. Weird. The room was so full, and yet that corner was so empty. I was probably just over thinking, but it was odd, right?
This was clearly some sort of base of operations, or crash pad, and I had to admit it was bloody cool. But it was most definitely not on the list of Black family camps, and the fact Evan and Barty were working together… But of course they were. Because how did I know them both? Through Regulus. They were both very close with Reg, meaning they were probably close with each other, and this confirmed it.
Barty, while I was staring at everything in deep thought, (who else is meant to give you guys descriptions?) had already closed the entrance and had sat down opposite Evan at the centre table.
“Take off your hood Black, we’ve already seen what your ugly mug looks like,” said Barty, while Evan just stared at me with a cocked head.
Haha, cocked head! Get it? Cause you give cock head? No? Goodness me lighten up guys, it's not like you're depressed Marauders, 70s music and Regulus Black lovers is it? Oh thank God I just made a joke. I was being way too deep in this chapter.
I removed my hood, staring Evan right in the eye. As my face was slowly revealed he gasped, looking quite sick. In my peripheral vision I could see Barty, looking at everything except me.
This was the truth. I was a monster.
But I hadn’t come for no reason.
Evans' letter said he could help how I looked. Maybe fix me. At least temporarily. It also contained the address to this building, and that was all. I had broken out of one of the most secure houses in Britain to get here, to get fixed, and so I had better be.
Though in reality, breaking out of Grimmauld Place hadn’t been that hard.
“Nice place boys!” I said… cheerfully. Why was I being cheerful? My emotions were not normal right now.
Evan was still staring at me, making me realise what they had just said. They had already seen my face? How? I had only been in the chamber, then my room.
“But- how have you seen my face before?” I asked. I really was quite confused now.
He continued looking straight back at me, but Evan’s face now held a different emotion. It was no longer fear and disgust, but now… guilt. Guilt and something more. Pity.
Why? Why was he looking at me like that?
Evan then looked away, shifting uncomfortably.
“Look Sirius…” Started Barty, but Evan rested a hand on his arm, gesturing him to stop. They looked at eachother, having some sort of silent conversation, and then after a few moments, they both nodded, coming to an understanding. If I wasn’t currently so scared of what was about to come out of their mouths, I would have made a stupid comment.
“Sirius,” said Evan, looking back at me. “You probably don’t remember, but after you went through whatever caused your face mutilation, you were…”
“I was what, Evan?” I spat through gritted teeth. I was getting impatient now.
“You were paraded in front of the household.” Barty blurted out, practically shouted, before Evan could answer.
Oh. Oh fuck. Of course I was. Of course I bloody was.
I wanted to scream, but I knew it wouldn’t change a thing. Not one thing.
Gods.
Why did everything have to be so fucked? Why couldn’t I just live?
Why couldn’t I just… just…
No. It wasn’t worth thinking about.
“Well, nice to know the whole family saw my new face, I must have been the talk of the evening. But anyways, back to business, yes?”
Evan and Barty finally looked away, pretty much at the same time, and I was glad they had taken the hint. Sure, I was avoiding a topic I should probably be pouring my heart out about, or at the very least making a shit talking, aimed, TikTok, but there were more important things to do right now. Prioritising my mental health was not necessary; Never had been, never will be.
“Yeah… so we have some pretty advanced technology that could hide the scars, but–” Started Evan, but I had another question. Many, many questions.
“Wait,” I interrupted.
“Yes?” Responded Barty, strangely excited about the conversation interruption. Did he even want to help me after all? Probably not.
“What… What is this? This building? Is it a known base? Is it one of your houses? What is it?”
“Reg and I set this place up when we first started working full time, in case of emergencies, and an escape. Our own place.”
“But… he never left the house, other than to go on missions. Right?”
“Let me guess. You always had a considerably smaller amount of assignments than him?”
“Yes, always, but— Oh I see. He wasn’t always on missions.”
“Barely ever. We spend more than half our time here.”
“Doing what exactly? And how were you never discovered? And why is Evan here? And why wasn’t I ever told? And—“
“Woah, calm down.”
“Sorry, but I know practically nothing here. You can’t expect me not to ask questions.”
“I suppose not, but please don’t bombard me, I’ve got a killer headache.”
“What, from the sound of your own voice?” Sniggered Evan. Barty hit him across the head.
“Look, we use this place as a home where we can actually relax, and do… Other research. We don’t know if we’ve been discovered, but if we have, no one’s made their presence known. Rest assured, we are very, very careful.”
“And Evan? Me?”
“Evan, well Evans our mate, and we trust him, so he’s part of the gang. As for you, I have no idea. Ask Reg, he’s the boss.”
That was a lot of information, but I suppose I had asked for it. Some of it made sense, the place being somewhere to relax, Evan being their mate, me not being included, but the fact they hadn’t been shut down? Discovered? That was odd. Very odd. But there were more important matters.
“Right, well onto my face, yeah?”
“Well Evan did try—“
“Shut up Barty. Yes, about that. We don’t have a permanent solution, we’ve had very little time, but there is something Reg has had in the works for a while that could be perfect.”
So Reg had been scheming and living in this safe place for years. Without me. Good for him.
I didn’t really know what to say. I wasn’t angry that he had this place, I mean if I had been able to make this, I would have too, but he… He didn’t tell me. Why?
That’s all I wanted to know. Why? But I wasn’t going to find out, was I. Because Regulus wouldn’t speak to me, not recently anyway. Probably because of me, it was always me. I was the problem.
It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it's me. Yes, I’m a swiftie.
But in all seriousness, or should I say Siriusness, (sorry i’ll stop now), I did know why. Me and Regulus hadn’t been ‘brothers’ in a long time, even when we conversed, we just couldn’t be civil. Maybe it was our own faults, for not spending enough time with each other, or maybe it was our parents. They, particularly our mother, had always made us compete, never letting us realise we don’t need to beat each other or have more kills or more missions. We just needed to be brothers. But no, we were turned on eachother from our births, and although the brotherly bond remained for a time, it couldn’t hold under the pressure, and it broke. It broke and shattered into a million pieces.
Maybe this would be the perfect opportunity to put the pieces back together. Fix us. Or maybe not.
“Right then, let’s see! What is it? Perception filter? Mechanical glamour? Alien stuff that needs to be injected into my blood?” I said, breaking the silence that I had used to think. Thinking was never good. Speaking was better.
“Well… you're not far off,” Said Evan, chuckling, walking over to the computer setup and picking up something. It looked like a face mask. I would know all about those. My skincare routine has over 6 steps.
“Not far off? I’m not being injected am I? And seriously, you think a face mask will fix this? I think we might need something more radical Rosier.”
“You're not being injected with anything. Maybe we’ll need to take a skin graft or something… but no needles. I wouldn’t be able to cope anyway,” answered Barty, shivering as he said the word needles. It was so weird that the most fearsome of people whose jobs are to literally end lives, though Barty hadn’t done much of that if the rumours were true, can be scared of the smallest things like needles. But I guess it’s not that weird when you think about it. But no, no, no, I wasn’t going to start thinking again, that was always a bad idea.
“Thank god. But seriously, that facial will not work.”
“It’s not a facial Black, calm down. This is one of the most advanced pieces of tech Reg has ever created. It scans the required face, either from a photo or live individual, and copies it down to the hairs on the nose. It can then be placed on someone else, and they basically wear the selected face. It’s far beyond what the Black Family has. It's world changing," explained Evan, placing it down carefully on some sort of pad that lit at the contact. That's what had been on the desk.
I paused, taking the information in. It sounded… incredible. Incredible and dangerous. Like most good things.
“So you're saying I could wear my old face? And no one would notice the difference?” I asked, starting to grin insanely. Sure I wasn’t friends with my brother, but at this moment I wished I could hug him. I wished he was here so I could even just thank him. Evan smiled and Barty laughed. I wondered what Regulus would have done.
“Exactly. Unless someone punches you with an iron fist, which is very unlikely, it will stay on. Oh and it doesn’t react well to water or other electrics. So don't be underwater in any hot tubs ok?”
“Got it. So how do we get started?”
“Well Reg has given us a picture of you from a few weeks ago, we can use that as a base. But Reg mentioned something else, something important. I can’t remember,” said Barty, frowning, looking at Evan for help, who sighed.
“God Barty, why is it you can remember my mum's number off by heart, but not this? He said that you can’t fight in the veil, it could damage the nanographic cells, and we don’t have a replacement as of yet, so no fighting while wearing it.”
“What?!” I shouted. I couldn’t fight in it? What the hell? That was the entire point, to get my ass kicking revenge in my actual, beautiful, face!
“We know that it’s inconvenient, but we can’t do anything,” said Evan, shifting nervously. I wasn’t going to hurt either of them, but I really felt like it. I could. But I wouldn’t.
“Regulus knew you wouldn’t like that… so obviously he had a plan,” said Barty, his memory evidently coming back to him. “To hide how you look, you could wear a mask.”
“No shit sherlock! Hadn’t figured that one out!”
It was meant to come out as a joke, but I was still shouting.
Even Barty looked nervous now, his hands shaking ever so slightly. I had no idea how I noticed something so small, I’d never been able to in the past. Maybe it was because I was so incredibly angry. Or maybe it was my new powers. God they were annoying. And helpful. And–
“Reg designed the mask, if you want to see it?” Asked Evan, moving towards the table in the middle of the sofa area.
“Yes, obviously I do. Hand it over.”
Evan picked up the red clothes on the desk I had seen earlier. He hadn’t just picked up a mask, for he was holding a heap of fabric. But… that meant…
“IS THAT A SUPERHERO COSTUME?!” I shouted, actually clapping my hands together like a 6 year old, and grinning madly.
Evan laughed softly and Barty just looked around, seriously confused, putting his head in his hands, walking over to the sofa and lying down on the floor rug. Don’t question it, that’s what I do.
My change in attitude and emotion was odd even to me, but I didn’t linger on the thought much longer. Who cares.
“Perhaps… Reg did most of the work, the design and stitching. Barty and I just made coffee and shouted encouragement.”
I didn’t even respond to the fact that Regulus had put so much time and effort into making something for me, because that thought alone would have blown my head off my shoulders in happiness, but what I could do was admire the costume. It had everything, a dark red body with black shoulder pads and details, multiple holsters, gloves, a knife holder on the calve, tight on the crotch: It was perfection in a full body tactical suit.
“It’s fucking glorious! Thanks dudes!”
Evan just nodded, smiling, and Barty gave a thumbs up from the floor. They showed me to the bathroom upstairs, which was surrounded by shut doors which I imagined could be bedrooms, to try on the suit. After a few minutes of working out how to actually get it on, and trying to cause myself as least pain as possible, which was impossible because the pain of my skin, just like the pain in my head, was permanent and constant.
After putting it on and finally being able to look at myself in the large mirror in the room which I had successfully avoided until the suit was on, I felt… Well I don’t want to say ‘empowered’ or ‘confident’ or any of that utter shit you hear in documentaries, but being able to look at myself and think ‘That dude is hella cool!’, did make me feel some kind of power. It made me feel like now I had a mask on, people would be able to cope with seeing me, and I’d be able to cope with myself. It was for the people, but also me. Wow that was deep, I should stop.
After trying it on, I kept it on, and walked back downstairs to show Evan and Barty the look. After they commented on it (Barty said I looked like a prostitute), I was politely asked to leave or have to stay there alone (Barty threw a chair at my head). I chose to stay, as I didn’t actually have anywhere else to go at the moment, and I didn’t care if I was there alone.
“Just don’t go on any of the other floors unless you need the toilet, okay?” Said Evan, as he was just about to leave. I nodded, and then I was alone.
This gave me the horrendous opportunity to actually think. And yes, I know what I've said a million times. Thinking is bad! But what else was I meant to do?
The suit felt good. Really good. The measurements were just right, the colour scheme was excellent to hide any blood stains, and the mask gave the perfect impression. Something like, ‘I can murder you right now but I may also drag you to bed!’, so just my vibe.
Even though some of my thoughts were positive right now, the majority were not. I was usually pessimistic, but the past few days had much too much information in my head, and it felt like I was drowning in negativity. The whole mutant thing, Dumbledore, hurting James, running from Grimmauld Place, not being able to wank for the past week, not knowing where Regulus was; It was all flooding it at record breaking speed and I just couldn’t anymore.
Couldn’t cope, couldn’t do anything, couldn’t help myself or others, couldn’t get the answers to my questions, couldn’t look after myself, couldn’t look at myself in the goddamn mirror.
I just couldn’t.
But maybe I could. Maybe.
*
For some reason, unknown to even me, I went into school the next day. I could have been discovered so easily, but I still went.
Well thinking (so dangerous, I know) about it, I did have reasons, but they didn’t really outweigh the fact I could be killed by my family who I had successfully hidden from so far.
The first was to test the mask, the one that made me look like me. I had only tried it for the first time this morning, and to be perfectly honest it made me more upset than happy. Yes it would serve a great purpose. Yes it would allow me to live my life without being seen as the monster under the bed. Yes it made some part of me a bit more Sirius again. But looking in the mirror, all I saw was what I was missing. All I saw was the reason I had to wear it in the first place. And it killed that small part of me that felt more me.
The second, arguably more important reason, was to see James. I didn’t know if he would be in school, it hadn’t been that long at all since I had shot him in the fucking eye. For all I knew he could be in hospital, completely fine, dead, or any other possible state of being. But I couldn't go to his home, I’d be found straight away. At least in school I was hidden by the other hundreds of children, and it was the only other option I could think of.
Walking through the halls, I was unnoticed. I was nothing. In school, you are only one of so many. You are probably not important to any more than 10 people. Which is very depressing when I think about it. But right now it was exactly what I needed. I needed not to be seen.
But rarely what I needed was what I wanted. I didn’t want to be found, but I also desperately needed to see a familiar face. Even seeing the greasy face of bloody Snape would help me right now. Cannot believe I just said that…
Seeing someone I loved would help more. My brother, who was another reason for coming here of all places. He should be here. Should. Remus, who was just a friend from a couple of classes that I didn’t even know that much about at this point, but I desperately wanted to know more. He was hot. Did I just write that out loud? Does this even class as me writing? Shit… Am I the author right now? Wait no I’m being written about. But this is the first person and I do love to break the fourth wall of your screen…
The following sentences have been redacted.
Anyways, I wasn't in luck. I went to all of the classrooms James should have been in, but I couldn’t find him. The teachers had no information, and I couldn't trust anything other children said, so I gave up. I’m not known for my resilience.
I wasn’t sure what I would have preferred, to be honest. Seeing him would ensure he wasn’t dead or seriously injured, but then I’d have to explain and apologise and tell him about my mutation… Overall it would be a lot of talking, a lot of shouting, and far too much explaining in such a short amount of time. The fact that he wasn’t in avoided that whole conversation, but didn’t tell me he was safe. It didn’t tell me anything on that front, but it made me assume the worst.
The gun had been experimental, and I hadn’t used it before. I knew only that the rays had hit him straight in the eyes. Would it matter? How strong was it? Would he be blinded? Did it not matter where he was hit? Would he be dead?
I hate not knowing. Hate it with a passion. But the only people who knew were the Blacks. And coincidentally, Regulus was also missing from all his lessons, so he couldn’t find out for me. But I didn’t believe in coincidences.
So many things had been broken and fixed these past few days. I had gained powers, great. I had escaped Grimmauld Place, great. I had a solution to being able to go out in public, and fight people, great.
I had scars for life, not great. My brother had been chilling with his friends for years without me, not great. That same brother was missing, not great. I had shot my best friend, not great. He wasn’t in school either, not great.
The main issue I had right in this moment was that many of the things that weren’t so great, could only be made great, by going back to the place I had been desperately avoiding. Shit.
Guess it was time to go visit Mummy dearest.