Polaris Black

17

1975, 26 December.

Polaris said, 'just leave,' and he did. Sirius Orion Black left. His brother left.

He was gone, and Polaris didn't know how he was supposed to feel. Right now, he was angry, confused, sad- he was feeling every emotion he didn't want to feel, yet he was breathing like he couldn't get enough air. Perhaps the air was giving up just as Sirius had done. He felt like he couldn't breathe with his mind clouded. Memories of them together, all there, yet there would no more to be made.

He didn't care how his magic began to listen to his emotions. He didn't stop it. He didn't care how he couldn't breathe with the thickness of his magic in the air. He let it swirl around, destroying it all. He was soothing, letting his magic run wild.

Sirius had always been trouble, always looking for it. He was the definition of trouble.

When Polaris was three, he had convinced him their father was dying. He spent a whole day crying and clinging to their father, scared he would no longer be there the next day. Apparently, it had been an accident. Perhaps it was Sirius' wild imagination, hoping she did die, and he had heard it. He wasn't sure how it happened. He remembered how Sirius had hugged him, trying to get him to stop crying. He remembered how he had got in trouble for lying to him. It took a week to fully convince the three-year-old Polaris that his father wasn't planning on dying anytime soon.

When Polaris was four, Sirius had told him a story of 'The Grim'. He told the curious four-year-old of a large, black, menacing spectral dog, who was an omen of death, which brought about the demise of anyone who encountered it. He told him Grims like four-year-olds, that scared Polaris. It was silly he had believed it, but who wouldn't believe their older brother at that innocent age. All three of them were playing in the garden of the Black Manor, Sirius, Regulus and himself. That's when Sirius 'screamed,' telling Polaris there was a grim there. Polaris screamed, crying, running back to the Manor. Agin Sirius was in trouble after the adults tried consoling the four-year-old that a grim wasn't planning on eating him alive.

When Polaris was five, Sirius told him a story about a North star that was so still in the dark sky, the entire northern sky moved around it, a dog and a King with a lion's heart. First came the Dog, then the King, then last came the star. It was a story Polaris loved just as much as Regulus did. Only later on did he realise the story was about them. Polaris was that north star, Regulus was the king with a lion's heart, and Sirius was the dog, all referring to the meaning of their names.

When Polaris was six, he started to notice how his mother treated Sirius. He remembered the hushed tones of his parents when Sirius was around. I confused him. Then he realised it was because Sirius was 'different', but he didn't realise nor understand what was to be meant by that. With time, he understood. Sirius liked muggles. He liked muggle things. Sirius wanted to go to school like muggles, which Polaris didn't understand. Didn't they have to wait until they were 11 to go to Hogwarts? His mother hadn't been happy. She had sent Sirius to bed without supper.

When Polaris was seven, Sirius had somehow saved his life. It was an experience the whole family would rather just forget and pretend didn't happen. From then on, he wasn't exactly allowed to move from their side if they passed through muggle London. He couldn't really remember the details, but he knew he was about to be run over by a muggle vehicle, but instead of getting hit, he was pushed, pushed by Sirius, and in turn, Sirius had hurt his arm. Which left Polaris guilty when their mother decided not to use magic to fix it instead of letting Sirius learn his lesson even though it was Polaris' fault. His mother wouldn't have any of it when he tried telling her. Sirius just told him to leave it. It didn't matter. He was glad Polaris was safe...