Strangers in a familiar place
Sirius
Sirius Black had experienced many strange things in his life—breaking out of Azkaban, being blamed for his best friend murder, not getting to meet his godson growing up—but walking into Gryffindor Tower as a fifteen-year-old student again might just top them all.
McGonagall had given him strict instructions: "You are Sébastien de la Rue, a transfer student from Beauxbatons. Do not slip up."
Easy enough, right? Except the castle felt different, and his mind… his mind was playing tricks on him. He remembered being older, chasing after Peter, but the details were growing hazy.
Had he really been an adult?
That thought unsettled him. Shaking it off, he climbed the steps toward the boys' dormitory. McGonagall had told him where to go—fifth-year room, sharing with some students named Fred and George Weasley, and one more.
He pushed the door open and came face to face with a boy already unpacking his things.
Sirius paused.
The boy had light brown hair, slightly tousled, and an air of exhaustion about him that felt oddly familiar.
For a second, Sirius felt something stir—a flicker of recognition. But then, just as quickly, it slipped away.
The boy turned, eyes sharp and wary. “Oh. You must be the transfer student.”
Sirius forced a grin. “Yeah. Sébastien de la Rue From Beauxbatons.” He forced a French accent into his words, hoping it sounded convincing.
The boy gave him an odd look before shaking his head and extending a hand. “William J.Moore. Transfer student as well.”
Sirius blinked. Another transfer? That seemed odd, but Hogwarts was a strange place.
He clasped the boy’s hand, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. But before he could dwell on it, the door burst open, and two identical redheads strode in.
“Ah-ha! The new blood!” one of them declared, clapping Sirius on the back.
“You must be the French one,” the other added, eyeing him with amusement.
Sirius barely had time to react before they turned to William.
“And you’re the—what was it? American?”
Julien rolled his eyes. “British, actually.”
Fred (or was it George?) whistled. “Blimey, they’re multiplying. Next, we’ll have transfer students falling from the ceiling.”
Sirius found himself grinning despite everything. The twins reminded him of James, in a way—mischief in human form.William, however, looked less amused. He was still watching Sirius, brow furrowed slightly.
For some reason, Sirius had the sudden urge to make a joke. “If we’re going to be roommates, I hope you don’t snore.”
William smirked. “Only on full moons.”
Something in Sirius’s brain twitched.
He didn’t know why, but the phrase full moons sent a jolt through him. Like he was supposed to remember something.
Something important.
But when he reached for it, the thought wasn’t there.
---
Remus
Remus—William, he reminded himself—was used to adjusting quickly, but this was different.
Walking through the castle, knowing he wasn’t a professor anymore, knowing he was now just another student… it was surreal. And unsettling.
Dumbledore had assured him that the cover story was secure. William Moore, transfer student. Fifth year. Ordinary.
Except he didn’t feel ordinary. His mind was foggy, slipping in and out of memories that didn’t quite fit.
He was older. He was sure of it. But when he tried to remember why he was sure, the details blurred. He knew he had been searching for something—no, someone—but the name danced just out of reach.
Shaking off the unease, he had entered the dormitory and begun unpacking.
Then the French boy had arrived.
Something about him tugged at Remus’s memory, like a tune half-remembered. The dark hair, the easy grin—there was a familiarity there. But when he tried to place it, the thought was gone.
Still, the boy—Sébastien—seemed harmless enough. He had a certain energy about him that reminded Remus of…
Of who?
It was maddening.
Then the twins arrived, loud and full of jokes, and the moment was broken.
Remus found himself smirking despite himself. They were sharp, quick-witted—troublemakers, for sure. They reminded him of…
Again, the thought slipped away.
He barely registered the conversation until Sébastien quipped about snoring, and Remus, out of habit, responded without thinking:
"Only on full moons."
The words were out before he could stop them.
Sirius—no, Sébastien—froze. His expression flickered for just a second, as if something had clicked.
Remus felt his chest tighten.
Did he know?
No. Impossible. He had barely said anything. There was no reason for this boy to react like that.
But then, why did it feel like they had just stumbled onto something important?
The moment passed, and Fred and George started a new conversation about Quidditch.
Remus let out a slow breath and turned back to his trunk.
Something was wrong.
Something was missing.
And he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what.