An Unconventional Grouping
Chapter 1: An Unconventional Grouping
This may be the strangest situation I’ve ever been in, James thinks. Which is quite a feat considering how often he has wound up in strange situations over the course of five and a half years of marauding. But this is different.
He’s standing slightly in front of his friends, with Remus and Peter on one side and Sirius and Lily on the other. James can’t see them, but he knows that they are all likely mirrors of himself– standing tense, eyes focused on the group of people in front of them, holding their wands at their sides, ready to raise them as soon as they’re given a reason.
Across from them, in a very similar formation, are five Slytherins with Regulus Black at the center. Regulus has his hands folded in front of him, away from the wand in his back pocket, but his friends all have theirs firmly in their palms and are glaring at the five Gryffindors.
“Thank you for coming,” Regulus says, seemingly the calmest person in the room. But James knows that his calm always hides a storm.
“Yeah, no problem,” is James’s response. He’s trying to match Regulus’s nonchalance, but it’s hard to do when he has no idea what’s going on. “Why exactly are we here though?”
James thinks back to six hours ago. He was out wandering the halls before dinner, pretending to be patrolling for Remus but really just taking the opportunity to get some peace and quiet, when Regulus’s hand shot out of an empty classroom and grabbed his arm.
“I need your help,” Regulus had said. Given that he and Regulus hadn’t spoken a single word to each other all term, James knew it was important, whatever it was, and agreed to help before he even knew what Regulus needed from him. Of course, what he asked didn’t make any sense to James, still doesn’t. “Meet me at midnight in the west wing of the seventh floor. There’s a room there, a little past the astronomy tower entrance.” Regulus looks down at his shoes, unable to look James in the eye
“Yeah, I know where the room of requirement is Reg,” James says, rolling his eyes. As if I’ve never been there before*, he had thought sarcastically.*
“You and your friends. Peter, Remus, Lily,” Regulus pauses. “And Sirius.” Regulus finally looks up, meeting James’s eyes through a curtain of black curls that fell in front of his face with the abrupt movement. Ah. Sirius. That’s why he’s being weird.**
“Okay Regulus” James had said. And there was a hint of a smile on Regulus’s face. Not on his lips, but in his eyes, now a little brighter than the moment before.
“Fair question,” Regulus says. “I asked you all to meet me here because I need your help. And you need mine, I think, even if you don’t know it yet.”
“Oh that’s not cryptic at all Reggie,” Sirius says venomously. James moves his gaze from Regulus for the first time to glance at Sirius. His hands are shaking and the venom in his words is even more prevalent on his face. James reaches his hand out to touch Sirius’s wrist. His eyes don’t leave Regulus and the venom doesn’t lessen, but he leans ever so slightly into James’s touch, letting it ground him as he has been since they were eleven.
“It’s kind of a lot to explain,” Regulus continues, as if Sirius hadn’t spoken at all, “And I wanted to do it all together.” James looks to Regulus’s left, to Pandora Rosier. James can tell now that Regulus’s friends are just as confused as he is, they just don’t want to throw him under the bus by asking questions in front of the enemy. She glances to her right, at her brother Evan. Despite being Regulus’s roommate, he doesn’t seem to have any answers either. On the far side of the Slytherin ensemble, Barty Crouch has the same masked confusion. The only one of his friends that doesn’t seem confused in Dorcas Meadowes, but whether that’s because she knows the answers or because she doesn’t care about the answers, James isn’t sure.
“There’s a war being fought, has been for years now,” Regulus states.
“Gee thanks Regulus. We never would have figured that out on our own,” Remus interrupts, just as calmly but dripping in sarcasm. Regulus takes a deep breath and seems to be fighting not to roll his eyes. Whatever is going on must be important for him to not engage.
He continues “Right now, we’re on opposite sides. I want to be on the same side.” Regulus’s eyes move to Sirius, but he quickly glances away, eyes falling to James instead. In his peripheral vision, James can see the Slytherins shift uncomfortably beside Regulus.
“Well we’re not joining the Death Eaters, Black” Lily says sharply.
“I know,” Regulus replies, meeting her gaze. James has been on the receiving end of that icy glare and he could never hold it for long. Regulus meets her ice with his storm. “And I’m not joining Dumbledore’s Order.”
“So what exactly are you proposing, Regulus?” Crouch asks exasperated. He is not a boy known for his patience, even with his friends apparently.
“Dumbleodore and Voldemort are playing a game of chess with the wizarding world. They don’t care how many pieces they have to sacrifice as long as they win in the end. I do not intend to be a piece on the board, a pawn for them to move as they see fit. I’m going to become a third player, with your help. We. We’re going to become a third player. They’re so obsessed with beating the other that they’ll never see us coming.”
“Like a triangle?” Peter asks, genuine confusion evident in his tone.
“Yes” Regulus says. “Though hopefully they don’t notice us until it’s too late.”
“Why would we do that?” Sirius exclaims, stepping forward until he’s slightly in front of James, only two steps from his little brother. “I’m all for fighting Voldemort, and I never thought the day would come that you see the error of our family’s ways, but why the hell would we abandon the greatest wizard of all time, a wizard who is already fighting him, and fight them both instead?”
“Merlin, Sirius,” Regulus responds, stepping towards him, dropping his mask of calm, like he always does when it’s his brother standing in front of him, “Can’t you just stop and think for two seconds before exploding? I know that you hate our family, I know that you hate me, but can’t you see that that means he’s got you right where he wants you? Can’t you see–”
“Woah okay,” James interrupts suddenly, putting himself between the Black brothers before the fists clenched at their sides fly into each other’s faces. He puts a hand on each of their chests and gently pushes, trying to guide them into putting some space between them. Regulus does so quickly, and James lets that hand fall to his side. Sirius hasn’t moved and James pushes again, harder this time, forcing Sirius to look him in the eye, until he caves and moves back towards Lily.
“I think Sirius has a good point,” James says.
“Of course that’s what you think,” Dorcas mutters, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“But Regulus does too.” James finishes, gaze shifting back to the younger Black. “Explain,” James demands. Regulus’s eyes get just a touch brighter
“Let me show you,” he says earnestly.
Regulus turns around and walks towards the other end of the room, and the Slytherins all turn to follow immediately. Now that the threat has dissipated, James takes a moment to look at the room he’s in. It’s different than all the other times he’s been in it. For starters it’s much, much bigger, possibly the same size as the great hall. By the door where they walked in is a set of stairs, indicating a second floor to the room. James didn’t realize that was possible, but he guesses it makes sense. It’s a magic room, what’s not possible? The next thing he notices is the wall behind him. It’s completely blank and smooth with no decorations or paintings or even seams to break it up. The door and stairs are behind him on the very far corner of that wall to his left and to his right is a large section of the room that is empty, save for mats strewn across the floor. Along the wall directly to his right, is a series of doors with unlabeled plaques across the front. The portion of the room ahead and to his left holds a round table with ten chairs followed by a small kitchen. All the way across the room, the far wall holds large windows, nearly floor to ceiling in height, looking out across the grounds. James can just make out the shadow of the whomping willow and the ripples of the lakewater in the dim moonlight. And in the far right corner, the portion of the room to which Regulus is heading, is a few shelving units holding empty vials and something that looks like a birdbath.
The Slytherins all crowd around the birdbath and Regulus looks up at James and his friends, who have slowly made their way only half way across the room. He doesn’t glare at them or tell them to hurry up. He just watches them take in the room and accepts that they will get there when they get there.
Suddenly, James doesn’t care about the room. He just wants to know whatever Regulus wants to tell him, to show him. And if the answers are in a birdbath, then James is going to go look in the birdbath. He makes a beeline for Regulus, his friends falling into step behind him. He can practically feel Sirius’s rage rolling off him in waves, and Lily’s incredulity rivaling Sirius’s intensity. He can feel Peter fighting the urge to turn around and go back to the dorm and pretend this never happened. And he can tell Remus is on the same wavelength as him– he wants to know what Regulus knows.
James and his friends fill in the missing half of the circle surrounding the birdbath. He meets Regulus’s eyes and nods. Show me, James thinks.
The room is eerily quiet, with only the sounds of ten children breathing, and honestly they all seem to be holding their breath a little bit. Regulus slowly puts his hands in front of him as if to say ‘don’t freak out’ and holds them there for a moment before slowly reaching for his wand. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Sirius, he can feel the other boy tense immediately. James quickly grabs his hand and twines their fingers together before Sirius can get that far. James squeezes his hand. Try to relax. Sirius squeezes back, a little harder than necessary. Fine, that squeeze says, but when this goes wrong, I’m blaming you. James chuckles and gives a small nod for Sirius, earning him questioning looks from most of the room who are unaware of their nonverbal conversation. Remus and Peter both roll their eyes, having been their friends for long enough to know a whole conversation just happened even if they don’t understand the specifics.
Regulus pauses for a moment to look between James and Sirius before raising his wand to his own head.
“Regulus!” Evan whispers worriedly. Regulus turns to give the boy a pointed look before turning back to face the birdbath, then closing his eyes. Regulus murmurs something that James can’t make out and squeezes his eyes shut tighter in concentration as a silvery substance starts to come from his temple, where he has his wand. He pulls his wand back a little, elongating the silvery strand before it pops free of his head and Regulus lets out a small gasp. He moves his wand to the water in the basin below and the silver strand falls into it, turning the water into liquid silver. James glances at Remus, but he’s just looking at the basin curiously, not uncomfortably. Not real silver then I guess, James thinks.
“This is a pensieve,” Regulus explains. “You put memories in it so that you can watch them back. I don’t know how to explain this right so that you’ll believe me, so I’m going to show you instead. Okay?” Regulus looks to James with the question in his eyes. James nods
“Okay,” Regulus sighs in relief. “As soon as you touch the memory, it’ll pull you into it. It’s a little disorienting, but not as bad as a port key. And you can get out anytime by just reaching your hand up and thinking about getting out. On the count of three, stick your hand in the water.” Regulus looks around their circle, making sure to catch everyone’s eye, landing on James last. James nods again. “One. Two. Three!”
James's fingers barely graze the surface before he feels a tug in his gut and his feet no longer seem to be in contact with the ground. There’s a sensation of falling and of being upside down before his feet find new ground and he’s standing in the same circle he was two seconds ago, but this time there’s no pensieve between them. Oh and they’re no longer in the room of requirement at all.
They are now standing in a hallway made of dark stones, lined with portraits. The one behind Regulus shows a young man with dark hair, gray eyes, and sharp cheekbones. Sirius, who is still holding James’s hand, is now gripping it as if his life depends on it. “Fuck,” Sirius mutters. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” That’s when it clicks for James.
This is Grimmauld Place. This is the house Sirius grew up in, the one he never talks about, tries his best not to think about. This is the house Sirius finally escaped this past summer, though he did so bleeding and broken. Remus must have come to the same conclusion, because he steps closer to Sirius and reaches out to take his other hand. James looks to Regulus, but Regulus is looking at the floor, deflated, seeming like he wants to be anywhere else but here.
Regulus looks to the right side of the hallway, where Regulus– memory Regulus– appears. He has his head down, reading a book, his feet shuffling slowly down the hall and his shoulders hunched. He doesn’t look any younger, so the memory must be pretty recent, this past summer maybe. Just as he is about to run into their circle, a door opens to the left . Memory Regulus stops in his tracks, snaps his head up, straightens his back, and closes his book, all in one quick motion. The real Regulus flinches against the wall and Sirius squeezes his hand so hard James thinks he might be cutting off the blood flow. Evan, Pandora, and Barty all wince. All in an instant, before enough time has passed for the door to even close. James doesn’t think he’s ever once been as aware of a door opening as half the kids in this circle are. His chest tightens.
The door closes as a shadowed figure enters the hallway. As he steps down the hallway towards their circle, towards Regulus, the first thing James notices is that he’s quite tall. Even taller than Remus, though not as lanky, even though it’s hard to be sure with the long black robes the man is wearing. He takes a couple more steps until he nearly bumps into Peter. Peter scrambles out of the way and their little circle shifts into two lines against the walls between the man and Regulus.
“Good evening Regulus,” the man says. His voice has an interesting quality that James can’t quite name, an interesting cadence too, like he has all the time in the world to say what he wants to say.
“Good evening my lord,” Regulus replies with a tip of his head. He then looks directly at the man, at the man who must be Lord Voldemort, though from what James can tell, Regulus is probably looking at his forehead rather than into his eyes. James stops breathing.
“Regulus,” the man says, “On the rare occasions we have spoken directly to each other, you have been remarkably honest.” Regulus doesn’t respond. He looks calm, slightly bored even. He waits for the man to get to the point. The man’s lips curl up slightly at the interaction, or lack thereof. “I would like for you to continue to be candid with me.” He pauses again. Regulus hasn’t shifted his gaze once and he doesn’t start now. “Regulus. I think you have a question for me. One that you haven’t asked, possibly because you think it is inappropriate to request the answer.” Pause. “I would like you to ask your question, Regulus.”
Regulus blinks. He doesn’t move his gaze and he doesn’t open his mouth. He blinks again. The man tilts his head slightly and raises his hands out in front of him, palms up. ‘Your move, Regulus’ those hands say.
Regulus shifts his eyes ever so slightly down– I was right, James thinks, satisfactorily. He was looking at his forehead– and opens his mouth. “Why us?” he asks. There is no hint of accusation, no bitterness, or shock, or anything at all. He asks the question as if the answer has no value to him. But James knows that Regulus values every piece of information he can get his hands on, in any context. And the man must know that too, since he wanted Regulus to ask in the first place. He hates that the man knows anything about Regulus.
“Ah,” the man sighs. “Such a simple question. Simple to ask, at least. Complex to answer. I will do my best to explain.” Pause. God, James thinks, how is this the guy that’s the greatest dark wizard in the world? He takes forever to finish a fucking thought. James glances at Sirius, whose stare, focused directly on the man, has turned from fear back to hate. Remus has his head turned to Sirius, whispering in his ear so quietly that James can’t even hear him. James turns to Regulus– the real Regulus– whose eyes haven’t left the floor but they don’t look fearful or hateful. They just look empty. James looks down and sees that Regulus’s pinky is linked with Pandora’s.
“It must seem short sighted, maybe even unreasonable to care so much about the allegiance of children. But the thing you have to understand, Regulus, is that you, your generation, that is, are this world’s most valuable resource.” The man waits for Regulus to respond. Regulus does not. He doesn’t even react, just keeps on staring, looking vaguely bored. “You have so much life in you. You are so eager to learn, and passionate. No one is passionate like the young. Our enemies know this, Regulus. There is a reason Dumbledore has chosen to be a headmaster rather than a minister.”
The man keeps talking but his words are becoming harder and harder to understand. The hallway walls are becoming less and less solid until they swirl away and their two lines are standing in the bright chaos of the Great Hall rather than the dark hallway of Grimmauld Place.
They’re standing at the far side of the hall, behind the Slytherin table. They rearrange their two lines from the hallway into one along the wall. Sirius has finally stopped strangling James’s hand and it’s tingling with pins and needles as the blood flows back in. He looks around, trying to figure out what year this is. He spots the familiar black curls and straight back on a small boy in a green tie. James looks up at the ceiling and spots banners in Slytherin green and silver covering the hall. What the hell? he thinks, Slytherin hasn’t won the house cup for as long as we’ve been at Hogwarts.
Dumbledore rises at the front of the room, ready to start his end-of-year speech but James looks to the far side of the room where the Gryffindor table is instead. He spots himself and his friends sitting in the middle of the table, laughing and waving their arms wildly. I take it back. THIS is the strangest situation I’ve ever been in. He watches as his younger self demands Lily’s attention and she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms and turns back to her friends. But with her back to him, she lets herself smile and her cheeks are tinged slightly pink. Has she NOT hated him this whole bloody time?!James thinks.
Dumbledore clears his throat at the front of the hall, capturing everyone’s attention. “Before we announce the winner of this year's house cup, I have a few last minute points to award.” The Great Hall erupts in whispers. The shoulders directly in front of him, those of the Slytherins, immediately hunch over in defeat. He awards ten points to Hufflepuff, and three sets of ten points to a few Ravenclaws before clearing his throat again. “And finally, I award twenty points each to four Gryffindors who remind us all that laughter plays an important role in living and learning.”
Across the room the jaws of all four young marauders drop in excited shock. This must be James’s second year then, he remembers now. They won eighty points for Gryffindor at the last minute, stealing the house cup right out from under Slytherin. The first time around, James was too busy celebrating to notice anyone else’s reaction. From here though, the most obvious reaction is that of the Slytherins right in front of him. Or maybe more accurately, a lack of reaction. As soon as Dumbledore opened his mouth they all deflated a little, like they all knew this was where it was going. And now that they were proven right, they’re just resigned to it.
“Fuck him,” a voice says, rather calmly despite the foul language. James looks to find its source and his eyes land on blond hair. Lucius Malfoy, talking to a group of younger years including Regulus. James gets the strong urge to find out if he can land a punch on a memory. Sure, Malfoy, the real Malfoy, would never feel it, but James would get to watch him bleed. That might be worth it, he thinks.
“Try not to take it personally,” a seventh year slytherin girl says, “Dumbledore just hates slytherins.”
“No,” Lucius counters. “Do take it personally. Every wizard Dumbledore has ever feared came from Slytherin. He’s pitting the whole school against us, the whole wizarding world against us, has been for years, so that when one of us calls him on his bullshit, he has a whole army of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to stand in front of him. Take it personally. And when the time comes, make him pay for it.”
And then the walls are fading and the ground becomes less stable until James is upside down and tugged upright, with his feet landing on the solid stone of the room of requirement floor.