Good News!

Padfoot stood on Platform 9 ¾.. The weight of his trunk rested beside him, but his eyes were settled only on James, his very best friend.

James Potter was leaning lazily against the wall with that grin of his. The usual, mischievous gleam in his eyes was missing though, replaced by an unexpected trace of sadness.

"You sure you’ll be alright without me?” James asked, his tone light but his eyes sincere.

Padfoot chuckled, the sound full of warmth, "Of course, Prongs. I’ve got everything under control. You just focus on finishing up those credits of yours. You can join us later in the semester.”

James raises an eyebrow, “Promise?”

“Promise,” Padfoot confirms, his smile wide and playful, "don't get distracted by any other pretty girls or guys, yeah?"

James laughed, pushing himself off the wall, "I promise. You’re impossible, Pads.”

Pads; Padfoot. Not Sirius. Not ever again. Padfoot was the name that fit him better than anything else ever had, far more than the one his parents had once chosen for him. This name was free; this name kept him unburdened from the mystery and heartache of the family he’d been birthed from, but had never known.

“Try not to get into too much trouble without me,” Padfoot said, clapping his best mate on the shoulder.

James grinned again, though there was a bittersweet edge to it, "I’m sure you’ll keep trouble going even without me there to commit it with you Pads."

Padfoot winks, "Well don't you know me well, dear."

James rolls his eyes and says, "Save the flirting for whatever senior guy you set your eye on this semester. And keep me updated."

Padfoot scoffs, "I don't like them that old Prongs."

He and James exchange looks. Sirius definitely did like them that old; if not older.

Padfoot pulls his trunk closer and gives his friend a look, as though committing the image of him standing there to his memory.

“Goodbye, mate,” James said, voice quieter now, though still light, masking the sentimentality he’d been feeling for the past few days.

Padfoot felt the shift in the air around them, the familiar warmth of their friendship suddenly tinged with something that felt a little too heavy for him to describe. He swallowed the lump in his throat, shoving down the small surge of emotion that had made its way up his chest.

“See you soon,” he said, his voice lighter than it had any right to be.

James grinned again, but there was something bittersweet about it. He reached out, clapping Padfoot on the back before turning to disappear into the crowd of students headed toward the carriages home.

Padfoot stood still for a moment longer, watching his friend vanish into the mass of excited chatter and hurried steps, the distance between them already beginning to feel too wide.

He then shook his head and turned back to face the chaos of Platform 9 ¾.

Immediately, he saw about fifty pairs of eyes on him. He wasn't startled though; Padfoot tended to have that affect on people.

He smirked and made his way through the crowd, winking every now and then. His house elves followed behind him with the twenty trunks of his belongings that he wasn't carrying.

Him and his elves made a stop at the luggage cart, and they got to work putting his many possessions into the compartment.

Padfoot stood unbothered, fixing his hair in his reflection on the train window. He tightened his leather jacket around himself and cast a music spell into his ear, blasting Bowie.

As he tucked his wand into his jeans pocket, he noticed a short and stout boy glancing at him from behind.

“Uh, hey, Padfoot, right?” Says the boy, his voice high-pitched and hesitant.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Padfoot replied, spinning to face the boy. His grin widens as he discreetly sizes the boy up, "And you are…?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” the boy stammered, holding out a hand awkwardly.

Padfoot smirked, and waved Peter's hand off, "Nice to meet you, uh, Pete?"

"Peter."

"Pete."

"Uh... yeah! Yeah, Pete, heh, Pete, works too!"

Padfoot nods as his house elves finish loading the compartment. Padfoot waves them off gratefully, and tries to nonchalantly shuffle away from Peter.

The boy was, unfortunately, already following him.

“So, uh,” Peter began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he slides up next to Padfoot, "You and I... uh... can we be friends? Heh..."

Padfoot blinked, catching the hint of hopeful excitement in Peter’s voice. He gave a short chuckle, flashing Peter one of his signature grins, "Sure, Pete,” he said easily and mindlessly, "we can, uh, totally be friends."

Peter nodded eagerly, clearly overjoyed at the response, "Right! Of course! I’ll make sure to... uh, I’ll keep things cool! Thanks, Padfoot!”

Padfoot nods and turns away from Peter, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Peter simply stood there, still buzzing with excitement. Padfoot took an experimental step away, and Peter seemed to get the memo. Relieved, Padfoot continued on his walk away from the boy, glancing at his new admirers.

As he walks away, Padfoot can't help but smile.

Padfoot entered the train, scanning for a quiet place to sit. He finally found an empty compartment, one away from the hustle and bustle of the crowded hallways. He slung his carry-on leather trunk into the overhead bin and sat down, grateful for the peace. He recast his music spell, aiming to drown out the noise of the train and lose himself in his thoughts; at least until the next round of admirers came his way.

Not two minutes later, Peter’s face appeared at the door, peeking in with wide, eager eyes.

"Uh, hey, Padfoot! You mind if I sit here?”

Padfoot sighed, pulling his headphones from his ears and giving Peter a look that conveyed all his resignation.

“Sure, why not?” he muttered, settling back into his seat, doing his best to not snap.

As the minutes passed, students began filing past, each one offering Padfoot a glance, a smile, a flirtatious wave or a soft giggle. He soaked it all in with practiced ease, the attention a warm, familiar blanket. He didn’t mind being admired; it was just part of the package deal that came with being Sirius Orion Black; Padfoot.

Still, part of him longed for some peace, and it seemed that, for the time being, that was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Padfoot barely registered the compliments and pick-up lines thrown his way, too used to the admiration by now. He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him again.

Just then, the compartment door slid open, and Padfoot glanced up, ready to tell the admirer to find another seat.

This admirer however... wasn't admiring him. The boy in question was pale, short, skinny, and seemingly quite pensive.

He stepped inside, his face cool and unreadable as his eyes flicked over to Padfoot with a look of mild disdain.

“You’ve taken this compartment, I see,” the boy said, his tone stiff but oddly polite.

Padfoot’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, "Why yes, I have."

The boy nods and says, "As have I," as he promptly sits down.

The boy slid into the seat opposite Padfoot, his posture stiff, eyes still flicking around the compartment with cool detachment. For a brief, surreal moment, Padfoot considered just letting him sit there in silence. But there was something about this boy... something striking, sharp, almost… familiar? He couldn’t quite place it, but it nagged at him like an itch he couldn’t reach.

Padfoot raised an eyebrow, his usual confident smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"You sure you’ve got the right seat?” he asked, voice light and teasing, but with an edge.

The boy gave a curt nod, his eyes meeting Padfoot’s briefly before glancing away again. His features were sharp, his jawline cut in a way that looked like it belonged to someone who never smiled.

"Quite sure.”

The tension in the room thickened, and Padfoot couldn’t help but notice the way this boy’s eyes seemed to linger on him, sizing him up in a way that felt far too… calculated.

“Well, alright then,” Padfoot said, a little put off, but he decided to let it slide.

Peter sat, oblivious to this tension, and smiled at the boy.

"I'm Peter!" he excalims, sticking his hand out.

For the second time today, Peter's handshake was rejected.

"Regulus. Regulus Arcturus," the pale boy responded, unamused.

Padfoot immediately feels bile coat his tongue; he hated astronomy-inspired names for obvious reasons. And besides that fact, this Regulus Arcturus seemed otherwise incredibly pretentious and stuck-up.

Regulus didn’t seem to acknowledge Peter at all, though his sharp gaze flickered toward Padfoot again, this time, with more intensity. It felt like some kind of silent standoff; Padfoot, ever the charmer, leaned back in his seat, smiling brightly as though dismissing this tension entirely.

"The name's Padfoot," he says with a wink.

Regulus looked thoroughly unimpressed.

"Ah."

Padfoot... didn't know what to do.

Regulus looked at Padfoot's trunk, which was completely decked out in leather and rhinestones.

"You sure do like to put on a show, huh?" the boy asked.

"... Huh?"

"At the platform? Your winks and waves and smiles... it was a lot."

Padfoot’s eyes widen just slightly, surprised at the icy tone but quickly recovering.

His smirk never falters as he says, "I'm just very friendly. No need to bite my head off.”

Regulus nods, though the disinterest is clear in his face. He leans back and pulls out a book, leaving Padfoot utterly astonished with the current situation.

Peter opens his mouth to speak, (much to Padfoot's chagrin) when just then, two new boys tumble into the compartment.

Padfoot and Peter flinch back from the conjoined bodies falling into the booth, while Regulus doesn't even bother looking up from his page.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” one of the new boys says, his tone easy and carefree, flashing a grin toward Padfoot as he untangles himself and stands.

"We thought we’d find Regulus here," the other says, his voice lighter, but still amused.

Regulus, who had been thoroughly ignoring the entire exchange, looked up sharply, his lips curling in distaste. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, but nothing more.

“You’re late,” Regulus said coldly, though there was no anger in his voice. It was the sort of distant indifference that seemed to come naturally to him.

“Had a little trouble with the prefects,” the other boy, tall with an angular face and a smirk that didn’t quite match his eyes, explained.

Padfoot leaned back against the seat, casually observing the newcomer. The boy had sharp, dark, green eyes, his hair a tangled mess of brown and green-dyed curls that framed his face in a way that screamed trouble.

“This is Barty,” Regulus said, his tone flat, referring to the boy with green streaks.

“And Evan,” Regulus adds, looking at the second boy, who was a few inches shorter than Barty, with slick, blonde hair and a confident aura that seemed to match the first boy.

The two gave Padfoot quick, almost uninterested looks before sitting down beside Regulus.

Peter, not missing an opportunity to insert himself into any conversation, sat forward, clearly eager to make friends.

"Hey, I’m Peter Pettigrew,” he said with a grin, offering his hand to both Barty and Evan.

Barty eyed him briefly before shaking his hand, Evan following suit.

Peter beamed, thrilled to have finally have his invitation met, and both Barty and Evan very faintly smiled.

“Nice trunk,” Evan comments, inspecting Padfoot's rhinestone-studded leather bag with a casual glance.

“Thanks,” Padfoot replies smoothly.

A silence falls and stretches out. Padfoot studies Regulus again. He studies that face that seems unfamiliar and eerily unsettling. There was something in the way Regulus met his eyes that made Padfoot feel like he’d been caught under a magnifying glass.

Peter, thankfully, perked up in his typical, unaware manner.

"So, what are we all wanting to major in this year!?” he asks excitedly.

Barty lets out a low chuckle, his eyes studying Peter, “Charms and transfigurations."

Evan smiles... genuinely smiles, and says, "Potions."

Peter grins and says, "Muggle studies!"

Peter then turns to Padfoot, as Barty and Evan turn to Regulus.

"Defense against the dark arts," say the two voices in unison.

The two boys snap their heads up, eyes meeting, grey on grey battling.

Peter winces, Evan holds back a laugh, and Barty whistles.

Padfoot resists the urge to scoff. Instead, he hightens his voice and remarks, "You know that that class is only offered to exceptionally powerful wizards, yes?"

Regulus nods, "Mhm."

Padfoot laughs forcefully and says, "Okay. Just wouldn't want you to... you know. Be disappointed. Haha."

Regulus nods curtly, and returns to his novel.

Padfoot feels faint. He's never felt such little control over a conversation in his life.

"Well," he says, clearing his throat, "I will be listening to my music, but uh, you three feel free to continue chatting!"

Barty, Evan, and Peter return to their conversation, while Padfoot casts his spell.

He looks at Regulus one last time, only to find the boy already looking at him. He promptly snaps his head towards the window, and tries to shake off the growing pit of dread within his stomach.
____________________________________________

The Hogwarts University courtyard sprawled out before them like a magical masterpiece, its cobblestone paths lined with towering, ivy-covered spires that seemed to pierce the sky. The grounds were a mix of ancient and modern, with the grandeur of the castle blending seamlessly with the new, innovative additions that had cropped up over the centuries. Students bustled about, their robes billowing as they moved in every direction, laughing and chatting as they made their way to the various buildings and lecture halls.

Padfoot’s heart beat a little faster at the sight. There was something undeniably electric about being here. This was Hogwarts University, the place where the best and brightest wizards and witches honed their craft. He took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents of fresh parchment, magical herbs, and the distant smell of breakfast still lingering in the air. This was where he belonged, where he could stretch his wings and truly be himself.

“Well, here we are,” Peter said, his voice a little breathless, eyes wide as he took in the sprawling beauty of the campus.

Padfoot smirked, glancing at the smaller boy, "Yeah, here we are."

Barty and Evan followed Peter, both with expressions that were slightly more restrained, yet still clearly impressed by it all.

Regulus, who had been quiet since the train ride, seemed even more withdrawn now. His posture was stiff, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he took in the majestic courtyard, but his gaze was distant, as if he was mentally elsewhere.

Everyone took in the beautiful campus, and just then, a group of dark black dragons swooped through the sky, causing cheers to erupt from the students.

Except... those weren't dragons.

With a BOOM!, maybe fifty cloaked wizards landed on the ground of the courtyard. They lifted their hoods and gasps emitted. Death eaters.

The courtyard fell into stunned silence as the Death Eaters landed with terrifying precision, their dark cloaks swirling like shadows. Their faces were hidden, but the eerie atmosphere they brought was unmistakable. Gasps of fear and surprise rippled through the student body. For a moment, the world seemed to stop, the air thick with tension.

Padfoot stood rooted to the spot for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling within him. His protective instincts flared, but his heart pounded in his chest, knowing the sheer danger that surrounded them. He could see some of the more timid students shaking, their eyes wide with panic. The situation was escalating fast.

The Death Eaters made their presence known, their wands raised in threatening unison. Some cast curses in the air, sparks shooting up to signal their intent, while others simply stood, looming ominously. The entire courtyard now felt like a ticking time bomb.

But then, from the edge of the crowd, a single figure emerged. Regulus.

The tension seemed to thicken as all eyes turned to him. He stepped forward with an air of cold defiance, his posture unwavering as his sharp, grey eyes locked onto the approaching Death Eaters. A flicker of something dark flashed in his gaze... something terrifyingly powerful.

Padfoot’s breath caught in his throat as Regulus raised his wand, the movement smooth and practiced. Without a word, he launched into action, his voice low but commanding as he cast curses with deathly accuracy. The Death Eaters faltered, their spells deflected, their dark magic bouncing off Regulus’ own shields like rain on glass. With a swift flick of his wand, one by one, the attackers were disarmed and pushed back.

The crowd, which had once been screaming and running for cover, fell deathly silent. Regulus stood there, surrounded by the retreating Death Eaters, his stance resolute, his face a mask of icy control.

Padfoot was breathless, watching Regulus take each Death Eater with ease. His power was undeniable.

Padfoot could also, however, sense the unease spreading through the crowd. People were staring at Regulus, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and fear. His abilities were unparalleled, and it was clear that no one here was prepared for the full weight of what he could do. The whispers started almost immediately, rippling through the students, murmuring about how dangerous Regulus was.

Padfoot took a deep breath, steadied himself, and then ran forward to break the tension. He flicked his wand a singular time, taking down the final Death Eater, causing the group of them to apparate away.

Padfoot looked to Regulus briefly, and then back to the crowd of students. All of them were gazing at him with astonishment and... adoration.

Padfoot spoke, then. His voice rang out across the courtyard, loud and reassuring.

"Hey! It’s okay, everyone! It’s over! I have it under control, you all are safe! We’re fine! No one’s getting hurt today, I promise!"

And then an outrageous applause broke out.

“You hear that?” one of the students yelled, her eyes wide with awe, "Padfoot has saved us! He's too brave, too good for this world!"

The words spread like wildfire, and soon, students were cheering Padfoot’s name. He stood there, soaking in the attention, his heart swelling with pride. The crowd’s admiration was exactly what he thrived on, but it wasn’t just about the applause. It was about the way they all looked to him for comfort in the chaos, the way they trusted him when things got scary. It was a power all his own; one that he’d carefully nurtured over the years.

And yet, in the midst of all the cheers and admiration, Padfoot couldn’t help but glance at Regulus, who remained distant. His posture was still stiff, his eyes darkened by a coldness that now seemed to distance him from the world around him. His brief moment of victory was met with a chilling silence from those around him. His powers had been feared, not celebrated.

As the applause for Padfoot continued to echo through the courtyard, a new wave of tension began to simmer beneath the surface. The fear for Regulus that had initially gripped them had now turned into suspicion, even disdain.

Regulus, standing alone amidst the crowd, felt the weight of their stares pressing down on him. His chest tightened, and though he tried to maintain his composed façade, he couldn’t ignore the sting of their rejection. The whispers started immediately.

“Did you see that? He’s one of them, isn’t he?” a student muttered to their friend.

“Yeah, I heard he has no family... No one to teach him right from wrong..." another voice hissed, clearly disgusted.

The air felt thick, and the weight of their judgment was suffocating. It wasn’t just fear they directed at him now; it was something far colder, far more isolating.

Padfoot, basking in the admiration of the students, caught the shift in the crowd’s energy. He saw how their smiles faltered the longer they looked at Regulus.

Barty and Evan, who had been standing just behind Padfoot, exchanged uncomfortable glances. Barty, who had always held a certain respect for his best friend's power, now looked almost ashamed to be associated with him. Evan was visibly tense, his shoulders stiff as he looked around, taking in the atmosphere. Without saying a word, they both slowly moved away from Regulus, gravitating toward Peter, who was still buzzing with excitement over the spectacle. They stood with Padfoot now, chatting enthusiastically, trying to distance themselves from Regulus, but their eyes kept darting back toward him, as if they couldn’t shake the weight of what had just happened.

Regulus’ eyes darkened even further. It felt as though the entire campus had turned against him in the span of a few moments. His best friends of over a decade, who had always stood by his side without question... now seemed like strangers, unwilling to even acknowledge him. Padfoot’s gaze flickered to his friends as they surrounded him, their laughter and light-hearted banter only deepening the wound.

Padfoot.

Fucking. Padfoot.

Regulus’ heart sank as he looked at the charming, leather-clad boy, but his expression remained unreadable.

Regulus had always known that his power came with a price. He had never cared much for the opinions of others before, but now, standing there amidst a sea of students who feared him, it felt different. It was as if all the carefully cultivated walls around him had come crumbling down in an instant.

Padfoot finally turned his gaze back to him, offering a forced smile.

"You... good, Regulus?” he asked cheerily... tauntingly.

Regulus didn’t answer. He simply nodded stiffly, the mask of indifference firmly back in place.

The crowd had already forgotten Regulus in the wake of Padfoot’s heroism. Padfoot was their champion now. The boy who had saved them.

Evan and Barty exchanged another look, a silent conversation passing between them. Evan’s eyes were still darting back to Regulus, a hint of unease in his expression, while Barty seemed lost in thought, his gaze lingering on the retreating figure of his friend.

“Come on, let’s go,” Padfoot said with a grin, already turning to lead the way toward the Great Hall. Peter was quick to follow, practically bouncing on his heels, still caught up in the adrenaline of the moment.

Barty hesitated for a moment, eyes flickering between the growing distance between them and Regulus. But the ever-present pull of Padfoot’s charm, of his strength and confidence, made it hard to resist. With a slight sigh, he followed suit, stepping into stride beside Padfoot, his hands tucked into his pockets.

Evan, though, lingered for a second longer, watching Regulus standing there, a lone figure in the courtyard, his posture rigid, his face unreadable. There was a tension in the air, an unspoken rift that seemed to stretch between them all. But the pull of the group was strong. Evan forced himself to look away, giving one last, almost apologetic glance before he too began walking.

And the entire student body followed after the group, all still chattering of Padfoot's bravery and goodness. Regulus followed from the very back, silent and resigned, as the newest class made their way to the Great Hall of Dear Old Hogwarts.