Avoiding Trouble (1st year)
March 18th, 1972
The walls were covered with moving portraits of famous witches and wizards, all of them representing several degrees of boredom and disapproval as they observed the young students.
“I swear to Hecate—”
“Don’t use my name, you old man—”
“—if I hear one more of these brats calling upon my name, I will step right out of my portrait and hex them myself.”
“Shhh, Merlin. They’re just children.”
“Shut up, Morgana. They’re giving me a headache.”
Professor Barnaby Pembroke, a rather frazzled-looking wizard with an unnaturally crooked nose, stood at the front of the room, searching through his notes. He was currently teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts—or ‘DADA’ as students used to call it—after the previous professor had lost two arms and a leg during a fight with a kraken near the Atlantic sea.
Sirius leaned back on his chair, feet propped up on his desk. Beside him, James was busy staring at Lily while attempting to tame his hair. A pointless effort really, as it kept coming back into its usual state of controlled chaos.
“Need some help with that?” Sirius grinned, pointing his wand to James’ head.
James shoved it away with one hand. “Keep that out of my face. I’m rather fond of it.”
“Lily might not share that sentiment,” Remus said. He was seated at the next desk, reading “The Catcher in the Rye” by J.D. Salinger and waiting for Professor Pembroke to begin the lesson. Across the narrow aisle, Lily sat with her back straight, quill poised and ready. Mary sprawled out in her seat, her dark brown eyes examining Pembroke with mild disdain, while Marlene absentmindedly twirled her wand between her fingers.
“Today,” Professor Pembroke began as he finally found the page he’d been looking for, “we are going to practice the, uh..." He traced the page with his fingers. "Right, the knockback jinx. It’s a simple yet useful spell to repel an attacker—”
“Useful for when James gets too close,” Sirius whispered loudly enough for half the class to hear, earning him a ripple of laughter.
James shot him a mock glare before returning his attention to Lily. He leaned over his desk with a grin far too confident for his own good. “Speaking of getting close, Evans, what do you say we—”
“Not interested, Potter,” Lily said without looking up from her parchment.
“You said that in our previous class.”
“I like consistency.”
“Well, in that case, you would definitely—”
“Not interested still, Potter.”
“Strike one,” said Mary.
James straightened up but was far from discouraged. “Oh, c’mon, Evans. Don’t be like that. I’m a real good partner,” he said. “Just wait a few years and you’ll see.” He winked at her.
Lily finally looked up. “For starters, ew, gross.” She made an expression of exaggerated disgust. “Also, Potter, the only partner I need is someone who can actually focus on class. So, unless you’ve got something useful to add about the knockback jinx, I suggest you pipe down.”
Marlene snorted. “I believe that’s strike two.”
Sirius clapped James on the back. “Don’t worry. Third time’s the charm.” He tapped his chin. “Or was that a rule for potions?”
“Mr Black, is there anything you’d like to share with the class?” Professor Pembroke asked. His eyes narrowed slightly as he adjusted his glasses.
“Oh, nothing, sir. Just discussing tactics for when James inevitably jinxes himself. You know what they say, better be safe than sorry.”
Professor Pembroke sighed, clearly weighing whether to pursue this line of madness or just ignore it for his own sanity. He chose the latter. “Right, as I was saying, the knockback jinx can be used effectively in duels or as a defence mechanism against—”
“Overconfident Gryffindors,” Mary whispered to Lily.
James leaned in again. “Seriously, Evans, if we’re ever up against dark wizards, you’d want me on your side, right? I’d protect you. I wouldn’t even need a wand.”
“I think I’d be just fine without your help, Potter. Besides, you’d probably get yourself killed without even managing to draw your wand. But if it makes you feel better, you can always practice the knockback jinx on yourself.”
“Strike three,” Sirius exclaimed triumphantly, raising his hand in a mock victory pose. “And Evans wins by a landslide.”
“Game, set, match,” Marlene said, grinning as James flopped back in his seat, finally defeated but still sporting that annoyingly hopeful glint in his eyes.
Remus leaned closer to James, savouring the moment. “You know, there’s always next lesson. Maybe try leading with something other than your ‘charm’?”
“Yeah, like, maybe an actual charm,” Peter piped up, eager to join the banter.
James sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. Professor Pembroke cleared his throat loudly.
“Now, if we could all please focus, I’d like to demonstrate the spell. Any volunteers?”
Sirius’ hand shot up but before Professor could even acknowledge him, he pointed at James. “Potter volunteers!”
James, caught off guard but unwilling to back down, stood up with a confident grin. “Fine. I’ll show you all how it’s done.”
As James stretched his hands over his head, Sirius leaned over to Remus. “Five galleons says he knocks himself over,” he said.
“I don’t have that much money,” Remus replied.
“All right, three sickles then.”
“You’re on.”
James aimed his wand at a practice dummy, confidently muttering the incantation. To everyone’s surprise—and perhaps disappointment—he executed the knockback jinx perfectly, sending the dummy flying across the room and hitting the far wall. Remus extended his hand towards Sirius with a small smirk and Sirius sighed before reaching into his pocket and handing him the sickles.
James returned to his friends with a triumphant grin. “See, Evans? Told you I’ve got skills.”
“Not bad, Potter. But you still have to keep it up.”
“Oh, he’ll keep it up, all right. Right until he gets knocked back himself,” Sirius said.
Mary shook her head. “If only the dark wizards knew what they were up against—a smartass and an ass, constantly making a fool out of themselves. They’d surrender on the spot.”
“C’mon Macdonald, just admit that you like me already,” said Sirius and Mary glared at him.
Professor Pembroke, now totally resigned to the circus that was his class, finally stepped in. “Thank you, Mr Potter. That was… impressive. Ten points to Gryffindor.” He scratched his nose aggressively. “Now, if the rest of you could please practice without commentary, we might get through this lesson before the end of term.”
The students began to practice. James and Sirius strode to the centre of the class.
“Ready?’ Sirius asked as they were about to perform the jinx on each other.
James nodded. “All right. On three. One, two—”
“Flipendo!” Sirius cried. The spell caught James off guard and he was knocked back, landing hard on the ground and releasing a loud groan.
“Blimey, Sirius,” James exclaimed as he stood up, rubbing his arm. “I thought you’d hold up a bit!”
“Never said I would,” Sirius said with a grin. He turned to Lily who was practicing beside him. “That was for you Evans.”
“Do that again,” said Lily.
Sirius in fact, did—several times more. James finally let out a frustrated groan and knocked Sirius just as hard. But Sirius only laughed. The lesson continued with Sirius and Mary exchanging sarcastic remarks, Remus actually trying to perfect the jinx, Marlene chatting with Peter, and James stealing glances at Lily, still determined to win her over.
Professor Pembroke stepped through the scattered, but mostly unharmed students and sighed. “That will be all for today.” He glanced around with a lost expression. “Right, homework—an essay on the practical uses of the knockback jinx, due next week. You can work in pairs. And please, no creative interpretations of ‘practical’, Mr Black.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”
They exited the classroom and made their way down the corridor. James caught up to Lily.
“So, Evans, about that partnership—”
“Keep dreaming, Potter,” she said. “You might get there someday.”
“I’m counting on it,” said James, sounding hopeful.
Lily paused and glanced at the Gryffindor boys. A sly smirk appeared on her lips. “Hey, Remus,” she called. “Wanna be my partner?”
James’ eyes widened. “Wait, what—”
“’ Course, Lily,” Remus said. “I’d be happy to.”
“Traitor!” James exclaimed.
“Hey, McKinnon, wanna be my partner?” Sirius asked with a charming smile.
“Et tu, Brute?” James asked with exasperation, butchering French pronunciation and waving his hands frantically.
Before Marlene could reply, Mary stepped forward, pulling her friend away. “Over my dead body, Black.”
“Always a ray of sunshine, Macdonald.”
The girls laughed and headed towards their next class. Remus wrapped both his arms around James’ and Sirius’ shoulders, a smug expression on his face.
“Seems like I’ve got a date, and you don’t,” he said.
James tried to shove him away. “Seems like you’ll be sleeping on the couch of our common room.”
“Who knows, perhaps Lily might join me,” said Remus.
“Get off of me, you backstabber!”
March 30th, 1972
James, Peter, and Sirius were sitting near the fire in the common room, finishing their homework—well, at least Sirius and James were pretending to. Peter was struggling with his Transfiguration essay, his brow furrowed as he scratched out another poorly worded sentence. He glanced up and caught sight of Remus’ empty chair by the window.
“Remus has been gone a lot lately, hasn’t he?”
James immediately perked up, setting down his quill. He had noticed it too—how Remus disappeared once a month, sometimes for days, always returning pale, worn and with some sort of excuse that never quite seemed believable.
“Yeah,” he said. “And have you noticed how he always gets sick right before he leaves?” He glanced at Sirius who suddenly seemed very interested in his half-finished Potions essay. “He says it’s just a bad cold, but I don’t know.”
“It’s weird, though, right?” Peter said. “You’d think Madam Pomfrey would’ve sorted out whatever’s wrong with him by now. She’s the best healer at Hogwarts.”
James leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “It’s always around the same time, isn’t it?”
Sirius, who had been trying very hard to appear disinterested in the conversation, finally looked up, his blue eyes sharp. He hadn’t said anything yet though he had figured it out months ago.
Remus was a werewolf.
It hadn’t taken Sirius long. The pieces fit together far too well: the timing of the disappearances, the “illnesses” that came and went with the full moon, and the quiet conversations between Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Dumbledore. Remus himself had also given away several hints without realising: his comment about how he hated the full moon on their first day in Hogwarts Express, the aconite incident in their first Herbology class, the fact that silver burned him—Sirius had noticed that during the Sorting Ceremony when Remus had reached for the silverware, and since then he would eat at the Great Hall only using metal cutlery. When Sirius had been researching the ‘episkey’ effects in the restricted section of the library, a few months ago, his speculations were confirmed. The book he had been reading described that healing charms wouldn’t work to erase someone’s scarring if they did not possess entirely mundane blood—it specified that ‘episkey’ wouldn’t work on centaurs, lycanthropes, sirens, and all other anthropomorphous creatures that were not entirely human.
Sirius hadn’t told anyone, not even James though he trusted him with everything. It wasn’t his secret to share and he didn’t want Remus to feel exposed or betrayed. He knew James and Peter would eventually figure it out, but he wasn’t about to rush it.
“I don’t think it’s a big deal,” he said casually. “He probably just doesn’t want to talk about it. People get sick sometimes. Maybe it’s a family thing.”
James frowned. “But every month? I mean, what kind of cold is it? I'm telling you, something else is going on. I’m sure of it.”
“I don’t know any cold that makes you look like this,” said Peter. “Remus always comes back looking like he’s been battling with chimeras. Scratches, bruises and I once noticed he had bandages on his arms for weeks.”
“If it were something serious, do you really think Dumbledore would let him return to school every time?” Sirius asked.
“I don't know, Sirius... Maybe there’s something he’s hiding,” James said. He paused, suddenly feeling worried as his protective instincts kicked in. “You don’t think… I mean, do you reckon he’s in some sort of trouble?”
“Remus isn’t the ‘trouble’ type, and you know it,” Sirius said. “He’s the one who keeps us from getting in trouble. Maybe he’s just got some boring family thing going on, like—I don’t know—a weird curse passed down through generations? His father is a pureblood and you know how those things work. My family’s plagued with plenty of blood maladies because of all that inbreeding.”
James snorted. “Yeah, right. And my family’s been cursed with chronic unseriousness. It’s a nightmare, really.” He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table. “Besides, Remus is a half-blood. The chances of a blood curse affecting him are pretty slim, even with his father being a pureblood.”
“What if it’s something dangerous?” Peter asked. “What if he’s being hurt? Or—what if someone’s making him disappear?”
James turned sharply to Sirius. “You don’t think he’s being blackmailed or something, do you?”
Sirius shook his head, but a flicker of amusement crossed his face. He could see where this was going, and he knew he had to nip it in the bud before it spiralled into one of James’ wild conspiracy theories. “Nah. Trust me, it’s probably just something boring, and he’s embarrassed about it.”
“Boring?” Peter echoed. “How is disappearing every month boring?”
Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms behind his head. “You’re making something out of nothing.”
“Perhaps you’re making nothing out of something,” said James.
Sirius grinned widely. “Perhaps you're making something out of nothing out of something that is definitely nothing."
"That doesn't even make sense," James said flatly.
“But you must've noticed it too, right?” Peter interrupted. “How Remus is always missing every month and... and always during the end of the month?”
Sirius stilled. Oh no, that was a very important lead. His grin faltered for just a fraction of a second—just long enough for James to catch it.
“Wait a minute,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve been paying attention, haven’t you? You know something, you’re just not telling us!”
Sirius felt panic rise in his chest. He had to be careful here. James wasn’t always sharp but was quite stubborn, and Sirius knew he couldn’t brush this off too lightly or James would never let it go.
“I’ve noticed the same things you have,” he said carefully, trying to sound indifferent. “But I’m telling you, it can’t be that big of a deal. You seriously think that if Remus was in any kind of danger Professors wouldn’t have figured it out by now? I mean, guys, we’re talking about McGonagall here. She never misses anything.”
“Except if they also know what’s going on,” said James.
Sirius scoffed. “Right. I’ll tell you what it is, then.” He leaned closer to the others, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Dumbledore has created a secret army and recruited Remus as a spy to fight goblins.”
“Don’t mock me!” James shoved him away and Sirius laughed.
“What do you want me to do then? You sound paranoid!”
James crossed his arms defensively. “I’m telling you, something’s wrong and I’m going to figure it out.”
Sirius sighed. “If Remus is actually hiding something—which I believe he’s not— he should tell us when he’s ready to. We all have our secrets, right?”
“I don’t have any secrets,” said Peter.
“Yeah, because that would require having an exciting life,” said Sirius.
Peter sulked but ignored him. “I just don’t want Remus to feel like he can’t come to us if something’s wrong,” he said. “He’s always taking care of us. We should take care of him too.”
“We take care of him by not prying,” Sirius said. “If something’s bothering him, he’ll tell us at some point. Until then, let’s not drive ourselves mad over it, yeah?”
James sighed. “Fine, fine. We’ll leave it—for now.”
Sirius mentally high-fived himself. Remus was safe for now. He knew it was only a matter of time before the others would also find out the truth but Sirius wasn’t worried about their reaction. Deep in his heart, he knew Peter and James wouldn’t mind Remus being a werewolf. The three of them would always stand by his side.
So, uncertain as he was about when Remus would finally reveal his secret, one thing he was sure of; Remus was their friend, and nothing could ever change that. Definitely not the full moon.
April 9th, 1972
James and Peter were at the Great Hall, playing wizarding chess. Inside the Gryffindor common room, Remus was sitting by the fire, nose buried deep in a book as usual. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he traced the lines of the page with his fingers. Sirius had been sprawling across the nearby couch, lazily tossing a crumpled piece of parchment in the air and watching Remus from the corner of his eye. He got up, abandoning the parchment ball, and casually walked over to where Remus was sitting. The firelight reflected off Remus’ golden-brown curls, hinting at the natural highlights of his locks, and Sirius couldn’t help but stare at him, the subtle frown on his face, the small freckles dusted on his tan skin.
“Hi,” Sirius said as he sat opposite Remus.
“Hey,” Remus muttered, without looking up from his Charms book.
“How’s it going?”
“Good, I guess.”
Sirius leaned forward, resting his cheek on his hand. “Can I ask you something?”
Remus finally looked up, blinking as though pulled out of a deep trance. He let the book rest on his lap, a small crease forming between his brows. “Sure, go ahead.”
“How are you doing this?”
Remus tilted his head. “What?”
“Reading that many books, being top of the class all the time.”
“Well, you’d be on top of the class too if you wanted to,” said Remus.
Sirius shrugged. “Obviously,” he said, grinning. “But that’s not what I mean. Look at me and James. We’re not exactly slacking off, but you’re on a whole other level. And I know I never asked you before but you told me you’ve got that—” he paused, lowering his voice, “—that dyslectic thing, right?”
Remus stiffened, but only slightly. Sirius always seemed to pick up on his struggles more than the others. It made Remus feel special, though he still hated sharing the things he was going through. Dyslexia was something he’d learned to navigate, but it wasn’t easy, and it certainly wasn’t something he felt comfortable talking about.
“Yeah,” Remus said slowly, closing the book and setting it aside. “I’ve got dyslexia. So?”
“What is it, exactly?”
Remus exhaled a deep breath. “It’s a Muggle learning disability. It’s not the same for everyone, but in my case, it affects my ability to read and spell. Well, it’s not that serious, really. I’m mostly struggling when I have to read out loud.”
“Why?”
Remus shrugged. “When my eyes scan the page, the letters on the paper seem to shift and move—it’s as if the words on the page are playing tricks, constantly rearranging or slipping away.”
“But you’re always flipping through these books,” Sirius said, “And not just for class. I’ve seen you reading several Muggle novels and everything. If I were you, I’d be hopeless with all the letters flying around.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So how do you do it, then?”
Remus hesitated, looking down at his hands. “It’s not easy,” he admitted, glancing up at Sirius.
Sirius didn’t say anything, just nodded, urging him to continue.
Remus sighed. “When I was younger before I came to Hogwarts, I could barely read at all. My mum, she... well, she spent hours trying to help me. And eventually, we found ways around it. Little tricks.”
“Tricks?”
“Yeah. At first, she would read for me out loud. Then we found more practical ways for when I’d have to read on my own, like using different coloured pencils over the text—helps the letters stay still, you know? Or breaking things down into smaller parts. I’ll read a paragraph out loud if I have to or trace the words with my finger to keep words in place. Sometimes I have to re-read things several times just to get the meaning.”
“But that must take you forever,” Sirius said. “I mean, we all joke you’re some sort of human library but if you have to go over things that many times how do you keep up? And how you’ve read that many books?”
Remus smiled faintly. “It does take time, but I’ve had plenty back home. I didn’t have anything else to do, really,” he muttered, sadness creeping into his voice as he thought about the lonely days at Portballintrae when he would stay at home while all the other kids were outside playing. “Books have always kept me company. That’s why I’m always reading. I have to work harder than everyone else just to keep up. But once I understand something, it sticks. And—” He broke off, glancing at the fire. “I like reading. Even if it’s hard. There’s something about books, you know? The way they let you escape for a bit.”
“Do the Professors know?”
“Some of them do,” Remus said. “Dumbledore knows, obviously. He made some accommodations when I first came here, like giving me some extra time on exams. Slughorn too figured it out, but he doesn’t make a big deal about it. McGonagall’s never said anything, but I think she knows.”
Sirius let out a low whistle. “Blimey, I had no idea. I always thought you just liked showing the rest of us up.”
Remus snorted. “Hardly. It’s not about showing off. When other things work against you, you learn to adapt.” He paused, his mind drifting to his lycanthropy. He didn’t have to mention it—he wasn’t ready to confront Sirius about it, and he knew Sirius had thought about it too, from the look in his eyes. “Dyslexia, well it’s just another part of it.”
Sirius looked at him. He’d known about Remus’ condition for a while, of course. But he hadn’t truly understood how much Remus was going through until that moment. He was always dealing with everything on his own, and he never complained, never asked for sympathy. Sirius couldn’t help but feel a new level of admiration and respect for him.
“You’re amazing, you know that, right?”
Remus felt himself blushing and was thankful for the rising heat from the fire beside them. “Uh, thanks,” he muttered awkwardly.
“Well, if you ever need help with anything, don’t hesitate,” Sirius said. He straightened his back, a grin on his lips. “Maybe I could read some of these boring books for you, eh? I’m sure you’d love my reading voice.”
“Yeah, like you’d read anything that isn’t full of hexes.”
“I would, for you."
Remus felt an awkward feeling spreading through his chest. “I doubt that,” he said quietly, shaking his head.
Sirius laughed, raising his hands defensively. “Hey, I can read books! I just prefer to spend my time more…creatively,” He grinned. “Besides, it’s my job to keep you lot entertained. Imagine if I were always in the library like you.”
“That would be terrifying,” Remus said. “I’d never have peace. And it wouldn’t be you.”
“I know, I’m such a badass,” Sirius said, leaning closer.
Remus swallowed hard and leaned back. For a moment, neither of them spoke. “You know, you help more than you realise,” Remus said.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Me? Help?”
“Yeah. Just by… being there. Making me laugh, keeping things from getting too heavy. It’s good to have that balance.”
“Well, if balance's what you need, I’m your guy,” Sirius said. “You just stick to your books, and I’ll make sure you don’t turn into a boring old scholar or something before your time.”
“Deal,” Remus said, and they both fell into a comfortable silence.
April 18th, 1972
“Dear Merlin, I think I’m gonna die.”
Sirius reached the top of the Astronomy Tower, slightly sweaty and completely out of breath. He pretended to collapse over the railing, earning an eye-roll from Remus.
“We’re not at the summit of Everest, Sirius. Get a grip,” Remus muttered, leaning against the cool stone wall, and rubbing his temples. He didn’t particularly mind Astronomy, but it was late and after spending half the day at the library, his brain was begging for a pillow not for star charts.
“Ev-everest,” Sirius groaned, sliding down and dramatically clutching his heart. “We’ve been climbing for ages. This is the end. Tell my brother I died heroically.”
James shoved Sirius with the tip of his foot. “I’ll make sure he knows you died of dramatic overacting,” he said.
They filed into the open, circular classroom and set their telescopes and star charts down at one of the many tables arranged in rows. Professor Qadar Shafiq was already scribbling something on the blackboard. She was beautiful, with long black hair, a sharp nose, and thick eyebrows. Her dark eyes were slightly narrowed to adjust to the dim light.
Peter approached the railing and looked up at the sky. “I always forget how small things look up here. You can see everything,” he muttered, looking over to the twinkling stars.
“Yeah, and it’s the only class where falling asleep doesn’t get us a detention,” James said, taking a seat next to Remus and adjusting his telescope.
“Correct me if I’m wrong but I distinctly remember you getting a detention for that very thing about a month ago,” said Remus.
“All right, well, it would have been fine if Shafiq didn’t catch me snoring,” said James.
Sirius snorted, finally dragging himself up and plopping into a seat across from them. “The only reason you got away with it last time is because you were drooling on your chart and it sort of looked like constellations.”
James shrugged. “Creative Astronomy.”
"If I had a galleon every time you and Sirius came up with something ‘creative’, I’d be rich by now,” said Remus.
“And that’s why I’m never placing bets against you ever again,” said Sirius.
“Good evening, everyone,” Professor Shafiq interrupted them. “Tonight, we are privileged enough to be observing the planetary conjunction between Jupiter and Saturn. It’s rare, so you should pay attention. It’s definitely something worth adding to your exams.”
Every student groaned softly and some slumped onto their desks.
“Now, if everyone has adjusted their telescopes, we shall begin.”
“Shall we go?” Sirius asked James, leaning closer to him.
James stared at him. “Go where?”
“Anywhere but here.”
James rolled his eyes. “Yes, Sirius, of course. Should we inform Shafiq on our way out? Perhaps she cares to join us.”
“Pleeease, James. This is torture,” Sirius whined. “I mean, I appreciate the view and all, but who actually cares about planetary conjunctions?”
“People who want to excel in their finals, probably,” James said. “Not us, obviously.”
“Maybe if you two actually focused, you’d realise it’s fascinating,” said Remus. “Two massive planets, side by side in the sky. You’d see just how chaotic their gravitational pulls are.”
“Please, Remus, spare me the swot talk,” Sirius said. “I just want to look at the pretty stars and pretend I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, and then copy my essay after,” Remus said dryly.
James smirked. “Obviously.”
Peter was busy trying to align his telescope. “Oi, how do you—what’s the difference between Jupiter and Mars again?”
“Mars is the red one, Pete,” Sirius said. “Honestly, did you sleep through all of our first year?”
Peter scowled. “It’s hard to tell when they’re all just glowing dots.”
Remus, with an exasperated sigh, leaned over to adjust Peter’s telescope for him. “Here, let me help you. You’re looking in the wrong part of the sky. Jupiter’s over here.” He pointed towards the southeast. “It’s brighter and larger than the others.”
Peter looked into the eyepiece, nodding slowly. “Oh… yeah, I see it now. Thanks, Remus.”
“You know,” James said thoughtfully, “I don’t know why they don’t make this more interesting.”
Remus gave him a look. “It’s Astronomy, not Quidditch. How exactly would you suggest they make it ‘more interesting’?”
“Maybe some interactive elements? Like, I don’t know, send us up there on brooms. First one to Jupiter wins.”
“Now you’re talking,” Sirius said. “I’d be the first wizard on Saturn. I could even plant a Gryffindor flag there. Think of the bragging rights.”
Remus shook his head, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’d suffocate before you even got close. You know, space and all.”
“Details, details.” Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “I’d find a way. Besides, I reckon I’ve got more lung capacity than the average bloke.”
“More hot air, maybe,” said James.
Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but Professor Shafiq was making her rounds, peering over her shoulders to inspect their work. The boys immediately adopted looks of intense concentration, pretending to be fully invested in the night sky. Professor Shafiq leaned over Sirius’ shoulder.
“Mr Black, are you actually taking notes or just drawing stars in the margins of your parchment?”
“Both, Professor. I’m multitasking.”
Shafiq gave him a long, unimpressed look before turning to the rest of the group. “I expect serious observations from you lot. This conjunction is significant.” Her eyes lingered on James’ messy scribbles, Remus’ neat ones, and Peter’s mostly blank parchment.
“Understood, Professor,” Remus said quickly, nudging James and Sirius with his foot under the table.
Once Shafiq moved on, Sirius smirked. “You know, I think she likes me.”
“She doesn’t. No one does,” James shot back with a grin. “First McGonagall, now Shafiq. Female Professors of Hogwarts, beware.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Sirius. “I’m delightful.”
“Maybe you’d be delightful if you actually focused on anything for more than five minutes,” Remus said.
“Five minutes? Please,” Sirius said, leaning back and balancing on the back two legs of his chair. “That’s far too long. I like to keep things exciting.”
Remus didn’t bother to continue the banter. Instead, they all fell into silence, waiting for the conjunction. One of them would point out a constellation, and Sirius would share the myth behind it. His voice was soft as he talked about the adventures of Perseus and Hercules, the many lovers of Zeus, and the tragic tale of Callisto who was immortalised after being set among the stars as ursa major. He deeply enjoyed uncovering the mythology woven into the constellations. It was the only thing he felt grateful to his mother, whose tutoring lessons had provided him with knowledge.
Walburga was particularly insistent on teaching both of her children the history of constellations and celestial beings, as it was a long-standing tradition in the Black family to name their members after them. She disapproved of how Astronomy was taught at Hogwarts, complaining that the subject had acquired a more scientific, Muggle-like turn that completely ignored the stars’ mystical properties—the way they whisper the fate of all things yet to come, their ability to shape one’s character and deepest desires. Walburga was a practitioner of ancient dark arts—blood magic, elemental magic, shadow magic, and necromancy and tried to teach everything she knew to her sons as well.
Sirius would never admit it to his mother, but he was fascinated by ancient magic, especially anything related to the stars. Every summer, when his family visited their country house in Brearton, North Yorkshire, Sirius and Regulus would spend hours lying on the grass of the sprawling grounds, stargazing and identifying the constellations above them. Now, whenever Sirius stared at the night sky, he could almost feel his brother’s presence, knowing Regulus was probably looking up at the same stars. It was a comforting thought, despite the many miles between them.
Remus watched Sirius with fondness and silent admiration as he talked, and he joined the conversation with some facts of his own—little details from the lectures that no one else seemed to remember.
After a while, James stretched his arms over his head, stifling a yawn.
“All right, I’m bored,” he said. “When’s this conjunction supposed to happen?”
Remus glanced at the star chart. “It should be starting soon. Just keep an eye on the southeastern sky.”
Sirius lazily peeked through his telescope again. “Oh no, I think I see it.” His voice carried a mock sense of urgency. “Jupiter’s moving to the left… wait, no. It’s a fly.”
James snorted. “Great observational skills.”
Peter was staring intently through his own telescope. “I actually think I can see Saturn!” He bounced with excitement.” Oh… no, wrong alarm. That’s just my reflection.”
“You’re doing great, Pete.” James patted him on his back. “Real top work.”
Remus finally set his telescope down, leaning back and rubbing his eyes for the hundredth time. “You’re all hopeless.”
Suddenly, the sky shifted, and the whole class gasped. Jupiter and Saturn slowly began to move closer together, their glowing orbits almost touching as they aligned perfectly in the dark night.
“Now that,” James muttered, adjusting his telescope to get a better look, “is actually kind of cool.”
Sirius peered through his own. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
For once, the boys fell into an awed silence as they watched the celestial event unfold, the planets glowing like twin beacons of light in the dark. Even Peter managed to adjust his telescope and focus on the conjunction. He let out an appreciative whistle.
The night wore on and the sky returned to its usual state. Professor Shafiq gave her final instructions, reminding them of a project for next week. The boys gathered their things and Sirius stretched his arms and yawned loudly.
“Well, that was a night well spent,” he said.
“See? Maybe you care about the stars after all,” James said.
Sirius slung his bag over his shoulder. “Not when it comes to exams. It takes away their beauty.”
“That’s actually one of the few clever things you’ve ever said,” Remus smirked. “It’s quite rare, really.”
Sirius shrugged, grinning. “Apologies Astronomy, but you’re just not my thing. I don’t quite feel the connection, you know?” He said in his most exaggerated British accent. He then scratched his chin playfully. “Still think I’d make a great astronaut though.”
“You wouldn’t last a minute,” said James. “You’d try to hex a planet and get sucked into a black hole.”
Sirius struck a dramatic pose, staring up at the sky. “Sirius Black, the first wizard-astronaut, lost to the cosmos in an epic duel with the stars. Tragic, really.”
“We’d be lucky if you made it that far,” said Remus. “You can barely get to class on time.”
“I’d be legendary either way.”
They descended the spiral staircase, the air in the castle finally warming their faces after being up in the open tower for so long. Peter was already half-asleep as he stumbled after the others.
“At least it’s our last class of the night,” Remus said, rubbing his eyes. “I swear, this schedule is brutal.”
Sirius abruptly grabbed Remus’ shoulders and shook him violently. “Dear Remus, are you feeling quite all right?” He placed his palm on Remus’ forehead as if checking for his temperature. “Godric have mercy on us all, he must be burning! He just denied classes and homework!"
“Sod off,” Remus said, shoving him away. “I’m too tired to deal with you.”
“Ouch,” Sirius said. He placed his hand over his heart with mock hurt. “You wound my feelings. I’m never gonna be the same again.”
Remus glanced over at James. “Tell me again, why is he being that energetic?”
“I don’t know,” James shrugged. “Perhaps it’s his enthusiasm for finally getting over with Astronomy.”
“And without getting into trouble,” said Peter.
Sirius stopped in his tracks, blinking. “Hold on,” he said. “Are you telling me we’ve gone an entire night without a single incident or detention?”
James smirked. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”
“But it feels…wrong. Like we’ve forgotten something,” said Sirius.
“How about forgetting to do your actual assignment?” Remus said.
“I’ll just copy yours later,” said Sirius.
Remus sighed. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Sirius echoed, grinning.
They finally reached the Gryffindor Tower. Peter muttered the password to the Fat Lady and once the entrance opened, they all stepped inside, practically crawling to their dorm from exhaustion.