Chapter 8
Minerva is pleased to see that James, Sirius, and Remus make it to breakfast the next day. The three boys trundle in only fifteen minutes before the end of the meal, but at least they make it. All three boys look tired, but Sirius looks a bit better than he did the night of the feast. There is a bit more color in his cheeks, and while he is moving stiffly, any casual observer would think it the same type of prim-and-proper posture for which the Blacks are known.
Minerva is no casual observer, however. Something is wrong with the way Sirius is moving. Something is causing him pain.
She watches carefully as James and Remus load up their plates and begin to scarf down the food. Sirius picks at some bacon and potatoes, but eats only a few small bites before a small tawny owl swoops down to Sirius’s side. The owl drops a note onto his plate, then expectantly looks at Sirius for a treat.
Sirius is much to distracted to reward the bird. The moment the letter falls onto his plate, Sirius's hand hand freezes and his eyes widen. He does not pick up the note.
Minerva frowns a bit. She had been wary of this possible reaction when she decided to send the note to Sirius. She needed to call him to her office for a private chat, and given Sirius's general distrust of authority, she figured approaching him herself would only draw unnecessary attention and make the boy more defensive. Since owls are flying in and out constantly at breakfast, no one would bat an eye at Sirius receiving a note and it would allow him some time to process the request. She did, however, take care to choose a small, light-colored owl, one the exact opposite of the Black family owls.
Despite this, Sirius seems frozen in place. He does not even notice when the small owl starts to gently peck at his hand.
Remus feeds the bird a bit of sausage, and James slowly takes the letter from Sirius's plate, saying something to Sirius as he does so.
Sirius's reaction only further worries Minerva. Something is quite wrong. She knows the Black household is full of secrets, many of which dark. She has held her suspicions as to what goes on there behind closed doors, but every child from that family has been tight-lipped and proud. Not one has admitted to anything. Not one has asked for help. Then again, not one of them has ever come to school looking as ragged as Sirius.
Maybe today Minerva will finally be able to help; she’ll be able to start building a case against one of the most powerful wizarding families in the country.
--
McGonagall is waiting patiently in her office when she hears a knock at the door. She stands from her desk to answer it.
When she opens the door, she finds not just one student, but three.
Minerva raises an eyebrow, but frankly isn’t surprised.
James and Remus are standing slightly in front of Sirius, nearly blocking him from her view.
“I should have expected you’d all be here. Right then, come on in. I’d like to have a chat.”
She guides the three boys into her office, and transfigures two additional chairs on the other side of her desk. Remus guides Sirius to the middle one, and he and James sit at either side, like two protective soldiers.
She admires their friendship; it will serve them well in years to come.
As they all get seated, Minerva pulls a tin from her desk drawer.
“Would you care for a biscuit?” she asks, offering the tin out.
Remus glares at her suspiciously, as though the biscuits might be laced with something. James, however, pulls one from the tin. “Thanks very much.” he says, cordially nibbling the corner of a shortbread before lowering his hand to his lap.
Sirius does not move at all. He does not react in the slightest.
Minerva returns the tin to her desk drawer.
“I had expected to have a conversation with Sirius alone, but since you are all here, I may as well address your absences yesterday first.” she observes the nervous shifting from James and narrowed eyes from Remus before continuing, “It should come as no surprise that I am aware the three of you neglected to attend your first day of classes. Might I ask why?”
James shifts a bit more, looking expectantly at Sirius. Remus edges his chair a bit closer in.
Sirius does nothing at all. He is completely still,
“Rough night. Wasn’t feeling well.” Remus grunts.
Ordinarily, Minerva would reprimand him for his tone, but given the circumstances, she lets it slide.
“Yes, Mr. Lupin. I understand you had a difficult moon, but that does not excuse all three of you.” she presses.
“Yes, well, we were sick too. Must have been something we ate.” James supplies, looking rather guilty.
Minerva hums skeptically. “If it was so terrible as to keep you from your first day of classes, perhaps you should visit with Madame Pomfrey, yes?”
James and Remus look to Sirius, but Sirius does not make a sound. He doesn’t seem to be paying much attention at all.
Remus puts a hand on his shoulder. Sirius winces and Remus takes his hand away, looking apologetic and sad.
“Maybe we’ll pop by later.” James adds, “If we start feeling sick again, that is.”
Professor McGonagall lets her stare linger a bit longer on the boys. It is quite clear that they are hiding something, which is not unusual for this group of boys, but this does not seem to be some childish prank or game of hooky. No silly triviality like that would leave a student as gaunt and haunted as Mr. Black, or as angry and sad as the other two boys.
She sighs and leans back in her chair.
“I am not a fool.” she says, pausing a moment to make eye contact with each boy. “I know when something is bothering my students. Let me be clear, skipping classes is not an acceptable way to deal with things. I do not approve of what you did yesterday, but you are not here because you are in trouble. I ask only because I want to help.”
She notices the glances that James and Remus flick again toward Sirius. Their loyalty will be their downfall, someday.
“Sirius,” she tries, going directly to the source, “It is not uncommon for my students to come back from summer holidays a little bit different than they left. I know the break is not easy for all of my students, but I must admit, the change I am seeing in you is rather alarming. I am concerned, as are your friends.” She nods to the bodyguards sitting at either side of him. “Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it, but if you do not ask, if you do not speak up, there is nothing I can do. You have to ask. You have to speak up."
The speech does not seem to rouse Sirius in the slightest.
Minerva puts on her warmest, most welcoming face, an expression her students do not get to see often.
"Tell me Sirius, what’s wrong?” she prods.
It feels as if the whole room is holding its breath. She does not take her eyes off of the Black heir, but she can feel James’s and Remus’s anticipation as they, too, look at Sirius.
It is a long pause before Sirius answers, and when he does, the words are slow and heavy, as if dragged to the surface of a deep pool.
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.”
Minerva feels herself frown. It is a lie, of course, and a most upsetting one, at that. She’s not disappointed that Sirius is lying, he and so many others of his ilk have learned that lying is how you stay safe, but she is disappointed that he feels like he has to. She had thought he trusted her more than that. She should have done better.
“I assure you, Mr. Black, anything you say in this office is of complete confidence. You have my word.”
It does not escape her notice that Remus takes Sirius’s hand and James scoots ever-so-slightly closer to Sirius’s chair.
Sirius, however, does not answer. His face is completely blank.
There is a disturbing emptiness behind his eyes, an emptiness that wasn’t there before. It’s as if he weren’t really in the room at all.
“Mr. Black?” she presses. “Are you quite certain there is nothing you wish to tell me?”
It is heartbreaking to see the once-lively boy so broken in front of her, but what is perhaps equally heartbreaking is the endlessly hopeful faces of his friends. James and Remus look so expectant as they lean forward, silently urging Sirius to open up. They look as though they truly believe everything could be fixed, if only Sirius would admit what has happened.
If only it were that simple.
“There’s--nothing.” Sirius chokes out, an unnatural pause between each of the words.
James purses his lips.
Remus looks angry.
A dark hollowness twists in Minerva’s chest, and for a moment, she feels as though Sirius is completely correct. There is nothing. There is nothing in the entire world.
She swallows back the nothingness and turns to James and Remus.
“Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin, how about you, is there anything I can help you boys with?”
“No.” Remus answers staunchly.
James, however, looks at Sirius for a second before answering.
“No, professor.” he finally says, sounding more dejected than usual.
Minerva lets the silence sit a few seconds longer. She has found in her years as a professor, that often students will confess what’s really on their mind given a few seconds of tense silence to sort it out. She has gotten both criminal confessions and heartfelt admissions this way.
These boys, however, hold firm in their stance. They stand by their friend.
Minerva sighs again. She can’t help it. She had so hoped she’d be able to do more.
“Very well then. I will dismiss you back to class. But my door is always open. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”
She makes eye contact with each of her students again. Remus glares angrily at McGonagall as though she is the enemy, but she gets the feeling that he is angrier in a much broader sense. Sirius seems completely oblivious to the fact that McGonagall is looking at him at all, and James averts his eyes entirely.
Minerva stands from her desk, and guides the boys out of the room. She notices how Remus hovers by Sirius as he slowly stands up, and how James carries his schoolbag for him. She sees how his walk is somewhat stilted, and how Remus is exaggerating his own ever-present limp as if trying to distract her. She is aware of the vigilance of Sirius’s friends, as though they half-expect him to collapse at any second and are ready to catch his fall. And she notices how Sirius-- a proud, independent, spunky kid-- lets them hover, lets them take care of him. He does not tell them to shove off. He does not make a joke. He does not reject their help. He is not quite Sirius at all.
Minerva holds the door open for the trio.
“And be sure to go right to class.” McGonagall reminds as they exit, “I will not dismiss your second absence so easily.”
Sirius and Remus begin down the corridor, but James pauses for just a moment with his hand on the door.
Minerva is just about to ask him again if there is anything he should like to say, when he takes a visibly deep breath, smiles at his professor, and heads off after his friends.
She watches them go sadly. If only she could do more.
---
By the end of classes, the pain potions are all gone and Sirius is feeling every inch of his body. The boys make their way back into their dorm room.
“I’ll try getting more from Pomfrey.” Remus says, helping Sirius sit down on his bed. “Steal them if I have to.”
"Don’t bother.” Sirius grunts. The faraway look is back in his eyes, like he isn’t quite in the room anymore. “Don’t need them.”
“Bullshit.” James scoffs. “Look at you, Pads! You can barely speak!”
Sirius raises his eyes to glare at Potter, but his expression is too deadened to be intimidating.
“Will you please let us take you to the hospital wing?” James pleads softly as Remus drapes a blanket over Sirius’s legs.
“No.” Sirius grunts as he pushes the blanket away weakly. Remus frowns, but stops fussing and sits on the bed next to him.
“Why not?” he asks. “It’ll make you feel better.”
Sirius is looking down at his hands, not making eye contact with his friends. His voice is so tired.
“Because then they’ll know. Can’t let them know.”
Something hot burns through James’s veins.
“Who?” Remus asks, “Your parents? Poppy wouldn’t tell them, I swear. She’s good with secrets.”
A scary expression contorts Sirius’s features. Anger, fury, annoyance, disgust. It is a mixture of everything terrible James has been feeling since he first saw Sirius in that train compartment. Except Sirius’s anger isn’t directed at his parents, his family, or the world. No, his anger is directed at his friends.
“No. You don’t get it.” Sirius snaps with more emotion than he’s shown in days, “I can’t let anyone know what they...what they did.” he swallows. “What they do. No one can know. Not Poppy, not McGonagall, no one. No one.” His look is filled with vitriol and desperation. Like he is both threatening and pleading.
Remus tries to take Sirius’s hand, but Sirius pulls it away.
“Ok, Pads.” Remus whispers. “Ok. No one needs to know.”
James feels like throwing up.
A long moment passes. Remus looks like he wants to reach out to Sirius again, but doesn’t. James fidgets uncertainly, not knowing where to go from here.
Sirius breaks the silence with a tiny whisper.
“I have to protect him.”
Remus’s hands tighten into fists, but he quickly takes a deep breath and forces himself to relax again. “You don't have to protect anyone.” he insists in a barely-controlled growl. “They sure as hell didn’t protect you.”
Sirius doesn’t look up. “I didn’t need protecting, but he—Reg—" Sirius sniffles a bit as tears start gently rolling down his cheeks.
“They should be in Azkaban for what they did to you.” Remus says coldly. “Your mother, your father, Regulus, the whole damn Black family.”
Sirius cringes at the words. “I am the Black family.”
The words hang for a second, and James is trying to figure out what he can possibly say to convince Sirius that he’s more than his family name, but before he can, Sirius wipes a hand across his eyes.
“You don’t know what I did, what I’ve done. How I failed.”
James wants to wrap Sirius in a hug and make it all go away. He wants to pull him into his arms and tell him over and over how special and wonderful he is until he believes it. But he can’t hug Sirius, because his body is so battered that it will only hurt. So James puts a hand on Remus’s shoulder instead, because he can’t stand alone in this minute.
“I don’t need to know what you did or didn’t do.” James assures. “I don’t care. I know who you are, Sirius, and for all the trouble you are, you are warm, and kind, and lovable. You are brave. So resilient. And I am so happy to be your friend. Do you hear me? I am so happy.”
Sirius stares at his lap, focusing as if every breath is a concentrated agony, some unwelcome obstacle he has to push through.
“We love you.” Remus adds. “No matter what.”
It is a long, long moment before Sirius finally speaks.
Tears are dripping onto his robes, making wet little splotches on his robes.
His voice is just a whisper when he answers, so quiet it is as if the words are not a sentence, but an exhale—a natural part of being alive.
“I should’ve done better. I should’ve done so much better.”
And in that sentence, James has never felt more lost in his entire life.