Greek Tragedy | Sirius Black's Son

Chapter One

icarus is flying too close to the sun
and icarus's life has only just begun
bastille, icarus

✧

Based on the reactions of the rest of the wizarding world, Icarus should probably have been more concerned about his father's escape from Azkaban.

Once the word had gotten out, Icarus had been pelted with letters from his friends, warning him to be careful and to watch out. Icarus had scoffed and carelessy thrown those letters into the corner of his room. What could Sirius Black do to him? Icarus lived in London surrounded by Muggles. Sure, Sirius had killed thirteen people, twelve of whom were actually Muggles, but would he really want to murder his own son?

Icarus had never done anything to wrong him; he had only been three years old the last time he saw his father. He couldn't even remember him. And Sirius had been in Azkaban for twelve years, so surely he must have forgotten him.

Icarus had seen Sirius's mugshot in the Daily Prophet, and Merlin's beard did he look deranged. He was furiously screaming, but no sound was actually coming out of his mouth. His hair looked wild and his jail number was being held out in front of him. Hands could be seen holding him in place.

That picture was the only image of his father that he had.

"You gonna get out of the car or do you plan on sitting in that seat for the entire school year?"

Icarus's mother's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, Mum," he said, getting out of the car. He grabbed a trolley and loaded his school things onto it. As he walked into King's Cross, his owl started to hoot loudly.

"Shut up, Bond," he hissed. People were now staring weirdly at him. "Shut up or I'll leave you locked in this cage for a week." That shut his owl up even though he probably knew that Icarus wasn't cruel enough to do that. Icarus redirected his attention to the onlookers and gave them a look as if to say Owls, am I right? He continued on his way to platform 9 ¾, made sure that the Muggles were no longer watching him, and walked through the brick wall.

He was greeted by the scarlet red Hogwarts Express. Families were gathered in clumps on the platform. Mothers were bidding their children tearful goodbyes, hugging and kissing them. Little kids were begging their parents to let them go to Hogwarts with their older siblings.

Icarus weaved his way through the crowd, careful not to hit anyone with the trolley. He tossed his luggage on to the train (though he gently set Bond onto the luggage rack) and searched the compartments for one of his friends. When he didn't see any of them, he quickly walked to the back of the train where the end compartment had been empty. As he sat down, he decided that his friends were either not at King's Cross yet or they were still on the platform.

He laid down on the seat, propping his feet up on the wall, and closed his eyes.

"Oh shit, are you dead?"

Less than a minute later, someone had entered the compartment and startled Icarus.

He opened his eyes to see a face peering down at him. He pushed the person away and sat up. "Do I look like I'm dead, Alan?"

Alan Michaelson. A tall and lanky boy with blond hair and an Adam's apple that seemed to be trying to free itself from his throat. Wayfarer frame glasses rested on his slightly crooked nose. He was one of Icarus's best friends.