Born to Run

October23^rd, 1971

“I can’t believe you’re dragging me into this.”

Loud cheers and conversations echoed from the bleachers. Remus, Sirius, Peter, and James were trying to push through the students and find an empty bench to sit together. It was the first Quidditch match of the season, and the Gryffindors would be facing the Ravenclaws. James and Sirius were scanning the place energetically and Peter was also quite excited, finally taking a break from the classes and homework.

Remus was bored out of his damn mind, regretting every minute that had led up to his decision to join the rest of them. Not that he had a choice. James and Sirius could be very persuasive if they wanted to and they had spent hours trying to convince Remus to join them, telling him to give it a shot and that he wouldn’t regret it. But Remus already had, his frustration evident, secretly wishing that heavy rain would fall upon them and lightning would smack a player on the head so the game would be postponed for another time. He would definitely find a convincing excuse in that case. 

Sirius glanced at him. “Stop whining. We’ve already talked about it. It’s criminal that you don’t like Quidditch.”

“No, what’s criminal is that I can’t commit murder right now,” said Remus.

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“I believe that’s a felony,” Peter muttered as he glanced around, still searching for a bench. He seemed utterly disoriented.

“No, Peter that’s not what I meant. I was trying to say—” Remus broke off with a sigh. “You know what? Never mind.”

“There!” James exclaimed as he pointed to an empty space high up in the stands. They all moved to claim their seats.

James clapped his hands enthusiastically. “Okay, we still have plenty of time before the match begins—”

“Dear Lord,” Remus muttered and took his head in his hands.

“—so, I’m gonna explain you the basics.”

“Sure, go ahead. It’s not like my refusal will stop you anyway,” said Remus.

James beamed. “Brilliant! So, there are seven players on each team. Three Chasers, two Beaters, a Keeper, and a Seeker. The Chasers handle a red ball, the quaffle. Their goal is to score as many times as possible through these hoops.” He pointed across the field, where three large hoops stood high above the ground. “Each goal is worth ten points. The Beaters use bats to hit the bludgers, two black iron balls that fly around, trying to knock players from the opposite team off their brooms.”

“Isn’t this dangerous?” Remus asked.

James made a dismissive hand gesture. “Nothing fatal. Just a few minor concussions or broken jaws, in worst case scenario.”

Remus placed a hand on his forehead. Savages, he muttered.

“The Keeper shields the hoops and tries to prevent the opposite team from scoring. And lastly, the Seeker works alone. Their role is to locate a tiny golden ball with wings—the snitch—that flies around the field at an incredible speed. If they catch the snitch, their team is instantly awarded 150 points and the game ends.”

They better catch the bloody ball the moment the game starts, Remus thought. He raised an eyebrow. “All this was just the basics?”

“You wanna hear about the fouls and the different techniques too?”

“No, I think I’ll pass.”

“Why do you despise it so much?” James asked.

Remus shrugged. “I don’t despise it, I just don’t understand the appeal of it—the noise, the chaos, the brutal moves.”

“You must be fun at parties,” said Sirius.

“I’ve heard that Ravenclaw’s chasers are terrible this year. Gryffindor’s got this in the bag,” said Peter.

“I hope so,” said James. “The Prewetts have been practising non-stop. And Fabian is the best Beater our House has ever seen.” 

Remus tried to keep up with their conversation but his attention drifted. He knew he was supposed to have fun but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d rather be in the library with a good book. He made a mental note: Bring books to the following matches.

“Welcome to the first match of the season everyone! Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw!” The commentator’s voice boomed across the pitch as the players emerged from the locker rooms. James and Sirius were on their feet, cheering at the top of their lungs. Peter joined them, his face flushed, while Remus clapped politely with a flat expression.

“We’ve seen some of the greatest players last year,” the commentator continued. “And here comes Gryffindor’s Captain, Gideon Prewett, after a remarkable season!”

The stadium went crazy, the Gryffindors shouting and whistling. Gideon waved at them, with a confident grin.

“And on the Ravenclaw’s side, Lydia Nightgale, on her best form!” The commentator said with a flirtatious smirk. Professor McGonagall shot him a warning look. “Um, I meant physically, Professor, like she’s built muscles. Okay, never mind.”

Lydia sighed with exasperation.  The players gathered in the centre of the pitch, everyone taking their respective places.

“I want a fair game, everyone. No cheating,” Madam Hooch warned. The whistle blew and the game began in a blur of colour and motion.

“And they’re off!”

The Gryffindor Chasers instantly took control of the quaffle like Peter had predicted, passing it with impressive speed and precision. The crowd cheered as they closed in on the Ravenclaw goalposts. Sirius and James were shouting instructions at the top of their lungs.

“Go, Gideon! Pass to Fortescue! That’s it!”

“Watch out for that bludger! C’mon!”

Remus watched the game with a growing sense of detachment. He tried to follow the action but the constant back-and-forth made his head spin.

“Alice Fortescue on Gryffindor is passing the quaffle to Prewett again! They move past Ravenclaw’s Chasers with incredible speed. Ravenclaw’s Keeper seems stressed and—AND THEY SCORE! TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!”

A roar from the crowd jolted Remus back to the game. James and Sirius were jumping up and down, high-fiving each other and anyone else within reach.

“Felix Sterling passes the quaffle to Silas Voss. Ravenclaw’s on the offence again! Everhart executes a flawless porskoff ploy to bypass Gryffindor’s defence. Voss closes in on the goal! And—OH, MERLIN—FABIAN PREWETT KNOCKS HIM OFF WITH A BLUDGER! Tough luck Ravenclaws.” 

The Ravenclaws booed at the opposite team and some students shouted that it was a foul.

“Madam Hooch declares that the hit was not unsportsmanlike conduct. The game is still on!”

Sirius scoffed. “’Course they demand a foul if they can’t score to save their own lives.”.

“I wouldn’t want to be in Voss’s place. Fabian is a brutal force on the pitch,” said James without taking his eyes from the field.

“Gryffindor’s turn! Shacklebolt is hot on his broom, passing back and forth to Fortescue and Prewett—Nightgale closes in, her hair flowing flawlessly, shimmering under the sunlight— oi! I’m sorry Professor, it won’t happen again—She closes in—AND TAKES POSSESSION! She dives past Gryffindor’s Beaters and makes a daring pass to Everhart. Will he score?”

Everhart moved quickly towards the hoops and missed the target by a few inches.

“Guess not.”

Lydia started yelling at her teammates. Sirius and James were grinning like idiots. The game kept going and the Ravenclaws changed their strategy: Everhart and Voss were now passing the quaffle to Lydia who kept scoring. The scoreboard eventually showed a tight race, with both sides almost matching each other point to point.

“Prewett and Longbottom are being relentless with their attacks, sending bludgers non-stop at the opposite team. The score is tied, the tension palpable. This is Quidditch at its finest, folks, a true battle of skill and sheer willpower! Yes, Professor, I just used complex vocabulary, please don’t look so astonished. Both Seekers keep searching for the snitch. Victory will be defined by whoever catches it first.”

The boys were on the edge of their seats, scanning the place for the golden ball.

“Do you see it?” James asked eagerly.

“No, of course not,” said Sirius.

“And there it is! The elusive snitch! Both Seekers have their eyes locked on it—Wood moves first—Aldridge dives as well—The crowd is holding their breaths—They’re neck in neck, their fingertips mere inches from it—They’re reaching the ground, neither seems eager to pull up—There will be a collision! Closer, closer—AND, OH DEAR MERLIN! ASTRID WOOD HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDORS WIN!”

Everyone rose to their feet. Aldridge didn’t avoid the collision, pulling up his broom too late, and he was now lying on the ground and waiting for the medics. Astrid was beaming with pride. Her teammates rushed towards her and held her up.

Sirius and James were screaming and whistling with their fingers. They hugged each other and started bouncing.

“They did it!”

“I told you so, Ravenclaw will not make it past their second game at this state,” said Peter.

“It’s a shame, though,” said James. “Nightgale’s a tough player. It’s not her fault her team is a bunch of losers.”

“She’s the Captain. So, it must be her fault to some extent,” said Remus.

“I’m sorry, what was this?” Sirius teased. “You suddenly care about the game?”

“No, I’m merely stating the facts.”

James grinned from ear to ear. “C’mon Remus, you have to admit, it was brilliant.”

“It was something,” said Remus.

“We’re gonna make a Quidditch fan out of you,” said James.

Remus shook his head. “Well, good luck with that.”

“We’ll see. But for now, how ‘bout we celebrate our first win? Surely there’ll be a party afterwards.”

“Now that,” Remus said, “I can get behind.”

November 3^rd, 1971

The boys were sitting in the Great Hall. It had been pouring since early morning, the muted sunlight trying to sneak through the thick, grey clouds that blanketed the sky. They had a few hours until their next class—Astronomy which was typically held late in the evening, whenever the weather allowed it, of course. 

“What are you two doing?” Peter asked as James and Sirius took out their quills and parchment.

“I’m writing to my parents,” James replied almost mechanically, too focused on his letter.

“To my brother,” said Sirius.

“Regulus, right?” James asked, without glancing up.

“Hmm.” Sirius nodded, biting the edge of his quill. “I’ve sent him multiple letters since we first got here but he replied to none.”

“Perhaps he’s been busy.”

“Yeah...” 

Sirius knew that something was wrong. He and Regulus had promised to write to each other every single week. At first, he thought that his brother would indeed be quite preoccupied—their mother would insist on homeschooling them until they would start their first year at Hogwarts—and maybe that would have been the reason for his unresponsiveness.

But as the days went by Sirius couldn’t shake the anxious feeling clawing at his gut. Their mother was a cruel woman, and Sirius hated that he had to leave his little brother behind, alone in that house. Their father was also strict, cold, and imposing, but unlike his wife, he rarely engaged physically to discipline them.

Sirius had always felt the pressure to uphold their legacy. From the moment he was born, he was first appointed heir to the Black family, and then he was given his actual name. At only five years old, his mother showed him their family tree tapestry. It hung on a large wall in the drawing room; its rich, dark emerald fabric was woven with shimmering threads, spreading like twisted vines, flowers blooming near the female names. At its heart was Walburga Black, the matriarch of Sirius’ family. Her embroidered portrait was magically moving on its own, her name beneath it, framed by tangled branches with other portraits and names, each one stitched in silver and gold—her sons, Sirius and Regulus, her parents, grandparents, siblings, and their own families. It was their whole legacy, written down over the centuries.

Among the many names, male and female, some were faded, lost in the darkness, and their portraits were burned. Scorched threads marked those erased from the narrative. Blood-traitors, his mother had said with disdain. Family members who had abandoned the blood purity ideals, married half-bloods and Muggle-borns, or were born ‘squibs’—with no magic. Those were disowned and cast away, their names faded into oblivion, serving as a cruel warning to the rest. Sirius could still remember the uneasy feeling settling in his stomach as he’d read Iola Black, PhineasBlack, MariusBlack, and CedrellaBlack, all burned and scratched off the tapestry. 

Walburga would never allow her children to meet such fate. She would do everything within her power to ensure that both would be made in her image. She fervently believed in blood purity and its superiority. Her loyalty to their traditions and her hatred for those she considered inferior or traitorous was fierce, and she started imposing her beliefs and expectations on her children from an early age.

Sirius was not influenced by her as much as Regulus was. Perhaps it was his rebellious nature and his tendency to doubt any authoritarian figure. Perhaps, it was his own complicated feelings for his mother, due to her cruelty and the fear she evoked him. Every time James spoke about his parents, Sirius would feel envy and disbelief. He had never known such unconditional love from his own family except from his brother. So he kept writing letters in hopes they would reach him despite getting no reply.

“I’m done,” said James. He licked the envelope of his letter and stood up. “I’ll head to the owlery. You want me to wait for you?”

“No, go ahead. I’m not finished yet,” said Sirius.

“Mind if I join you?” Peter asked. “It’s not like I have anything to do here.”

“Yeah, sure. Guys, we’ll meet you later.”

The others nodded and James headed with Peter for the entrance of the Hall. Sirius glanced over at Remus, who had been unusually quiet, frowning as he kept reading a large book in his hands.

“Do you always have to study?”

“Shhh... I’m trying to get the hang of something.” 

“Wanna tell me?”

“No, not really.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Why? You think I’m incapable of helping you for once?”

Remus sighed. “Fine,” he said, closing the book. “I’m trying to understand why the ‘episkey’ doesn’t work on my scars.”

Sirius tilted his head curiously. “Why would you need to use ‘episkey’ on your scars?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious? To erase them, of course. I know the spell is used to heal wounds but my book says the spell is effective in minimising the scarring as well even after the wound has healed. But every time I cast the spell nothing happens.”

Sirius’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You wanna hide them?”

“I’m sorry, isn’t it what I just said?” Remus asked a bit annoyed.

“No—yes, shut up, I heard you. Why on Merlin’s name you’d want to cover your scars?”

Remus shifted uneasily in his seat. He slightly lowered his head and fidgeted nervously, avoiding eye contact. “They’re hideous,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Sirius froze and a deep frown etched on his forehead.

Remus exhaled a deep breath. “Look, just leave it. You were the one who asked in the first place, so—”

“They’re pretty,” Sirius blurted out.

Remus blinked. “What?”

Sirius’ face flushed a deep crimson. “I—I mean they are pretty neat, you know? Very badass.” He managed a small grin.

Remus suddenly tensed up. “Don’t mock me,” he said.

“I’m not! Really, it’s like you’ve been in a hell of a fight and now, look at you!” He pointed at Remus with his arms wide open. “You’re alive and thriving.”

Remus’ eyes darted away. He leaned back, putting distance between them. His expression was unreadable.

“You don’t have to hide them, Remus,” Sirius said. “It’s part of who you are.”

“And what exactly am I?” Remus whispered, partly to himself, partly questioning Sirius.

“Well, that’s for you to find out,” Sirius said, rising to his feet. “I’m gonna head to the owlery to send my letter. See you later?’

“Yeah.”

Sirius nodded and headed for the grand staircase. He ascended to the upper floors, turned towards the West Tower, and climbed the west stairs. The owlery was a circular stone room filled with perches and ledges for the school’s many owls and large windows that allowed the birds to come and go freely. Sirius glanced once again at the letter in his hands and gave it to a large black owl with gleaming eyes. It would mail it by the next day. He secretly wished he would finally get a reply.

Hey Reggie,

I hope you’re doing all right. You haven’t been replying to my letters. Don’t worry, I’ll be coming home for Christmas in a few weeks. I have so much I want to tell you. The Quidditch season is still on and despite not making it in the team, James and I never miss a match. He was right, you know, when he said our House has the best team. Our House. Still feels surreal, to be honest, to be in Gryffindor. I’m sure Mother didn’t like it much?

The classes are fine, but I think Defense against the Dark Arts is my favourite. After flying, of course. You should see Remus. The bloke is incapable of even holding his own broom. But he’s top of all the other classes, the show-off. And he is quite funny when he lets himself catch a break. Peter still tries to go unnoticed by everyone but I think he’s finally starting to loosen up around us.

We pulled a prank on Snape and Mulciber last week. Merlin, you should’ve seen their faces. We placed sticking charms on the chairs of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall and their asses got stuck to their seats. They struggled so much to free themselves, that their pants eventually tore apart and they had to walk all the way to their common room in their briefs! I can’t say that Professor McGonagall appreciated the joke. It cost us ninety points. But it was worth every single one. The rest, I’ll tell you at home. Please, give me a sign that you’re alive, you little prick. I love you, little brother.

Yours,

Sirius

November 10th, 1971

Remus was sitting alone near the Black Lake. The weather was cool, typical for late autumn with a chilly breeze that rustled the remaining leaves on the nearby trees. The water was calm, reflecting the dull sky, disturbed only by the occasional splash of the giant squid—a magical creature that had been living in the lake for years and eventually had become Hogwarts’ peculiar pet.

Remus leaned on a flat, moss-covered rock, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains, deep in thought. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself, not so much for warmth, as for comfort. He had chosen this spot deliberately; it was a quiet place where he could finally find some solitude.

The past few days had been rough. He had already faced two full moons at Hogwarts, and though his experience was far better than all the past years in Portballintrae, his scars were worse than ever, marring his tan skin. That was something that didn’t go unnoticed by his classmates. From the side looks in the corridors to the whispers behind his back, Remus always felt like the centre of attention and it was driving him crazy.

But the last straw was his interaction with Severus and the rest of his crew the other day. He was walking down the corridor when Ixion Avery grabbed him by his robes and pinned him to the wall. They started laughing at him, questioning him about his scars. Severus was calling him a monster and Benedict Mulciber punched him in his stomach. Remus tried to fight them off, snarled, and even threw a few nice kicks but the others eventually outnumbered him. Thankfully, Argus Filch, the castle’s caretaker, appeared and broke them off. Remus hadn’t told the others about the incident but since then, he had been trying like a maniac to find a way to erase his scars.

Footsteps crunching in the gravel path nearby broke his reverie. Remus turned his head slightly, recognising the familiar stride.

“There you are,” Sirius said. “I’ve been looking for you. I found why ‘episkey’ wouldn’t work on someone’s scars.”

Remus stared at him with an almost bored expression. “Oh, really? And how did you do it, may I ask?”

“I went to the library.”

“You went to the library,” Remus repeated flatly.

“Oi! I happen to visit the library from time to time,” said Sirius defensively.

Remus leaned back against a tree with his arms crossed.  “’Cause it’s the quietest place in the castle to take a nap?”

“For your information, no, I go mostly to annoy James while he keeps stalking Evans, and—that’s not really the point here. Wanna hear what I’ve found or not?”

Remus sighed. “Sure, go ahead. But I must inform you, I’ve already checked at the library.”

Sirius tilted his head. “Did you also look at the restricted area?”

“No? It’s called restricted for a reason? Wait—” Remus paused, catching the mischievous glint in Sirius’ eyes. “Did you?”

Sirius’ grin widened.

“How?”

Sirius shrugged. “I used a disillusionment charm.”

“YOU DID WHAT?”

“Keep your voice down!” He brought his finger to his lips, leaning over Remus. “Are you gonna keep questioning everything I say, or should I just tell you?”

Remus was too astonished to reply. That gave Sirius the lead to go on.

“Brilliant. So, I was at the library, searching every book on healing spells and charms, and I found a citation from a specific book that caught my interest. Don’t give me that look, I can be interested in books too, you know. Anyway, when I searched for it I saw it was registered in the restricted area. So, I figured that if I waited for everyone to leave and cast a disillusionment spell, I could find it. End of story.”

Remus ran his hands through his curly hair. “End of story he says,” he muttered. He abruptly stood up, brushing his hands on his robes. “Let’s get this straight one more time. You performed a charm that is quite complex—let’s just admit it, even for you, and you broke the rules to go to the restricted section of the library to find a book about my scars?”

Sirius bowed. “Tada!”

“No tada! What if someone had found you?”

“Oh c’mon Remus, cut me some slack. I’m too skilled to be caught,” Sirius said. “Besides, I didn’t do it only for you, you know. It was also for educational purposes.”

“Yeah, like you give a damn about your education,” said Remus.

“Okay, fine,” said Sirius. “I’m just gonna go then, leave you alone in your ignorance.” He moved past him as if to leave.

“No, wait!” Remus exclaimed.

Sirius paused, still grinning.

“Tell me. What did you find?”

Sirius whirled around theatrically. “So, there are three reasons why ‘episkey’ or any other healing spells won’t work on someone’s scars to make them disappear. First, when the scars were made by a cursed object or any object containing dark magic. Second, if someone cast a dark curse and their hatred at the time of the incantation was so intense, it imprinted on your skin, in the form of scars.” He paused.

“And the third?” Remus asked eagerly.

“If someone doesn’t possess one hundred per cent human blood,” said Sirius.

Remus’ expression darkened slightly with suspicion but he tried to keep it guarded. “And what exactly would that mean?”

Sirius shrugged. “I’ve no idea. The author didn’t really specify what he meant. I just thought I’d let you know.”

They kept staring at each other in silence. Remus was not sure if the other boy was telling the truth but he was unwilling to press any further. Suddenly, Sirius turned to leave.

Remus called after him. “Sirius, wait—”

Sirius paused once again and turned around to face him.

“Thank you,” Remus whispered.

Sirius nodded with a faint smile and headed back to the castle.