FIRST YEAR | Chapter One
001. SIRIUS BLACK.
The Hogwarts Express & the Overdramatics of a Train Ride
THE TRAIN TO HOGWARTS took a while, Sirius realised after fifteen minutes of standing at Platform 9¾. (The platform seemed to be an oddly secure area at the very back of Kings Cross Station, where bouncers were asking for the letters from Hogwarts and the student's tickets to board the train, which Sirius had given.)
Inattentive, Sirius dug out the Walkman from the pocket of his robes. He had downloaded his favourite songs on the Walkman like Life on Mars?, Tiny Dancer, Moonlight Mile and loads of other songs that Sirius had on record. He had bought a Walkman.
'Stand up straight.' His mother hissed as Sirius popped the headphones into his ears as Paint it Black started playing. With a bit of reluctance, Sirius did as he was told. His posture had deteriorated after he began reading-- which he found surprising, him reading --however, he mainly read memoirs of rock stars and such, whatever rock-related things he could buy with his small portion of his family's fortune, Sirius got them.
From the corner of his downcast eye, Sirius could see Regulus picking at the bandaid he had put on his once-bleeding cheek. Sirius hadn't remembered to ask how he got it, and now he certainly couldn't, with the judgemental eyes of their mother somehow fixated on them both. So that meant that Sirius couldn't ask Regulus how he got hurt until after the semester, the next break, which would be winter, and by then, the cut would likely heal.
Well, Sirius thought, increasing the volume of the song as the chorus came in blazing, it's not like it matters much anyways.
His mother cleared her throat, and Sirius looked up at her. From the look on her face, she was most certainly going to say some lecture about getting into Slytherin, or it was the equivalent of certain death if Sirius didn't. 'I suspect you are aware by now,' His mother began, and Sirius visibly rolled his eyes. 'Anything — '
' — Anything besides Slytherin is unacceptable, I know, mother, I know. All but Slytherin are bad, and I shouldn't get them, yada yada, even though I don't really have a choice in what I get sorted into, do I?' Sirius hissed. His mother grabbed him by the shoulder, her long painted nails digging into the fabric of Sirius's expensively tailored robe as she yanked Sirius towards her.
'What did you say?' She spat. Sirius sighed under his breath and stiffened under his mother's harsh touch as he glared at the ground. For a moment, he didn't want to answer, didn't want to say he didn't mean it or that he was sorry — because he wasn't. You filled out a survey, and you got the answers. Sirius knew he wasn't going to be a Slytherin, so why say he would be?
Nonetheless, he blinked hard and decided against saying all that, and he instead took the high road.
'I take that back.' Sirius muttered, even though he didn't want to take it back, from the angry look on his mother's face, he suspected that it was the right decision, and his mother let him free with a huff.
'As you should.' His mother agreed bitingly as Sirius rubbed his shoulder, irritated. As Sirius put his headphones back in once again, he could see Regulus look at him with a slightly concerned expression, which was completely uncharacteristic, mind you. Sirius gave his characteristic smirk and arched an eyebrow as if to say, 'And what exactly are you staring at?'
Regulus smiled a little but remained silent. They both turned away.
Finally, the train came. Sirius removed one of the headphones in case his brother or mother said goodbye, but Regulus just looked at him oddly, and his mother just glared, turning on her heel and dragging Regulus away a moment later. Unfazed, Sirius hoisted his trunk into the train and lugged it across the narrow hallway until he reached an empty compartment.
At least, he thought it was empty.
On the bench south of him was a boy with messy black hair and light brown skin, paired with brown doe eyes that peered at Sirius like some judgemental kid's. His black, circular glasses tipped onto his freckles nose as he looked at Sirius. He smirked slightly.
Sirius hoisted the black and gold engraved trunk — that was, for the record, filled to the bring with meaningless memorabilia he cared little for, save his guitar he had managed to safely stuff in there — and placed it up into the overhead compartment.
The boy tore a hand through the messy, albeit oddly clean-looking hair and glanced at Sirius through cracked circular spectacles. 'Need any help?' He asked politely. The boy was in his first year, it was obvious.
'No, no, I'm quite alright.' Sirius replied, his voice slightly strained as he nigh tossed the trunk onto the compartment. He felt short now, and he despised that feeling.
The boy arched an eyebrow yet glanced out the train car window once again, and Sirius grimaced as he noticed the dust that stuck stubbornly onto his robes. To be fair, the chests hadn't been used in a long while, so Sirius should've expected it. 'You got anyone here with you?' He asked thoughtlessly. Sirius brushed the dust off himself.
'Oh. Um, no. I walked here myself. Is it your first year, too?' He asked. Sirius hadn't ever met anyone his age, save for maybe Regulus, if the younger boy counted, and Sirius felt oddly intimidated, though this stranger seemed nice enough. Well, maybe not intimidated, but it was an odd, unfamiliar feeling.
The boy — Glasses, was the nickname Sirius would call him until an inevitable introduction occurred-- smiled cheekily. 'Yep. Came here with my mum n' me dad. They're mighty proud of me, y'see. I went to a shabby elementary and didn't get proper grades, so they were surprised I got accepted here. 'Ogwarts is a proper ponce school if I'm, to be honest. I'm glad to be here, though.' He said with a sigh. Sirius smirked, he liked Glasses already.
Sirius couldn't help but smirk at Glasses; he seemed like the type of person that he would get on well with, or at least Sirius wanted to get along with. The boy took a seat across from Sirius, and Glasses offered Sirius a bag of chocolates he had in his coat-- Glasses frowned slightly as Sirius refused, claiming he usually would eat them on the train, and it was 'mighty odd that Sirius didn't.' Sirius found that amusing, but he wasn't too fond of sweets on a regular day, save for chocolate, really, and he was feeling sort of queasy, so he passed.
'What's your name anyway? I'm Sirius.' Sirius said as he watched Glasses eat the chocolates. He hadn't met a single person in Hogwarts yet, and he was getting nervous.
Glasses popped a chocolate in his mouth and swallowed before saying, 'Ah, sorry, I'm James.' He said as he rubbed the cacao off the side of his cheek. 'Pleasure, Sirius.'
Sirius glanced at James's finger, which was stained slightly with melting chocolate, he hadn't noticed how hot it was on the train (even though it was the beginning of September, so basically still summer.) Nevertheless, Sirius did notice that James was polite-- something that was odd to Sirius, as even though his family was nauseatingly aristocratical and decent to other people, politeness evaded them. -- usually, everyone Sirius knew, which was his family, either made up inane stories about him or hated him, but here he was, having a kind conversation with a stranger on the Hogwarts Express. It felt nice but also confusing, God, everything was confusing at that moment.
'Same with you, James. Do you know what house you're going to be sorted into later?'
From what Sirius knew of Hogwarts's supposed "sorting system", there would be a survey presented to you after you were ushered into a quiet room. You'd complete the survey, and during supper that evening, the Headmaster would announce your house. Seemed basic enough.
James shrugged. 'Anything but Slytherin would make me just peachy. Hate Slytherins, my family and I. I'd rather resign than be in Slytherin, honest.' James said. Sirius winced slightly. He didn't want to be assigned Slytherin either; however, it was the tactical choice-- with his family being Slytherins and all, and there being some sort of unspoken punishment for getting into any other house, not to mention an even greater punishment for being sorted into Gryffindor. James snapped Sirius out of his somewhat frantic thoughts by saying, 'How about you? Any house you think you'd fit in well with?'
Sirius had almost choked on his chocolate hearing the words "I hate Slytherins", and while Sirius himself wasn't a Slytherin, his familywas-- if he was sorted into Gryffindor, which would be the worst possible outcome for certain or Ravenclaw, god forbid Hufflepuff, no one would be happy-- not his parents, nor his uncle and cousins, who he loathed and wished ill upon-- but his brother Regulus would certainly be a Slytherin, and he wanted to be with him. A friend in Slytherin meant a friend in Regulus.
Sirius thought for a moment. 'I'd say maybe Ravenclaw? I'm not sure, really. I don't have a preference.' To him, the lie was obvious, to James, he knew it was concealed far better. A stranger couldn't tell when another was lying; it was a plain fact.
'I would like to be with Regulus — he’s my brother, so, uh…' Sirius trailed off, 'so, preferably Slytherin.'
James scoffed. 'To each their own, mate.' Sirius smirked at James's moxie and glanced out the window. 'Even if "your own" is absolutely baffling and stupid.'
'Reg'll be attending next year, he's got the same, if not better, grades as I did,' Sirius replied, looking brisky at the people who ran into the train, waving all the while. 'My family's pretty — erm, strict. They'd be mad if I didn't get Slytherin, though, to be frank, I'm not a fan.'
Sirius chuckled at his own words. Strict was an understatement, his family was downright evil, but James didn't need to know that just yet — perhaps when James was a bit more comfortable with Sirius, Sirius might disclose his family's true nature because the two had just met, regardless of if this was the closest to Sirius having a friend that wasn’t his relative — not that any of his relatives were the least bit fond of him.
Honestly, Sirius would rather never tell anyone about his backstory. He once told someone at his private school, and he never looked at him the same. Sirius didn't want that, and anyway, James could survive without knowing the information. Hell, it hadn't even come up.
'Yes, my family are very-- erm, harsh about that sort of thing,' Sirius said to James, 'I'd hate to upset them and end up with a black eye or two.'
James turned to him, a momentary expression of concern (or was it confusion?) flashed on his face, then disappeared into normalcy. 'You're kidding, right?' he asked. Sirius grinned, and though it felt forced, James seemed to believe the faux cheer.
'Uh, duh. Come on, really, who would lie about that?' Sirius lied, and James smiled uncomfortably. There was a long silence between the two, and
Sirius cleared his throat. 'So what extracurriculars are you going to choose, since I hear the Headmaster makes us take at least one.'
James clapped his hands together. 'Sports. Rugby, specifically. But from what I heard from me mum 'n dad is that Hogwarts Rugby is jolly odd, and they have a whole name for it. Quadpitch or something, I never remember.' Sirius smirked.
'Quidditch. Do you know how to play it?' He questioned. James arched an eyebrow.
'Of course. I might not know its bloody odd name, but I can play,' There was an odd undertone of challenge in James's voice that Sirius found quite amusing, and when the boy with the cracked glasses spoke again, it was almost in a taunt-like voice, 'How about you? Can you play?'
Sirius scoffed, playing along in the challenge — though he had a nagging suspicion that James was almost stubbornly sincere. 'Of course I can. Is that a challenge, Potter?' James grinned.
'I think it is Black.'
Sirius's snarky retort was interrupted by the frantic sound of someone opening the door to the compartment. James and Sirius turned. There was a boy, lanky, to an alarming extent, with blonde, unkempt hair and wrinkled robes. He smiled nervously at the two. 'Ah. Sorry, the train's moving, can I sit here?' He asked, though, to be completely honest, the words were more of a squeak, if anything.
James nodded. ''Course you can, if you can handle Quid-- is it Quidditch?' He asked Sirius. Sirius nodded. 'Yeah. If you can handle Quidditch talk.' The squeaky boy — Mousey, as of that moment — glanced around.
'I can, thank you, mate.' He, with some effort, hoisted his battered and scratched trunk into the compartment and sat beside James, though closer to the door. 'I suspect you two are First Years?'
'How'd you guess? Do we look shockingly youthful?' Sirius quipped, and James grinned. 'Fabulous, we. Anyhow, yeah, I'm a first-year, and James here is one as well. Speaking of, I'm Sirius, a pleasure.' Sirius leaned forward and shook Mousey's bony hand. Mousey smiled slightly, looking more comfortable and less close to an anxiety attack.
'Peter. Nice to meet you both.' He leaned away and looked at the door. 'Awful crowded out there.'
James arched an eyebrow. 'Really? We didn't hear much from in here, and the walls are bloody thin.' Peter looked around, squinting at the walls, as if testing his 'x-ray' vision. Really, Sirius thought with a smirk, what in the world was this boy doing?
Sirius cleared his throat. 'Anyway, back to the Quidditch discussion, I'll beat your arse, Jamie, best prepare for my wrath.' Sirius sneered, and James let out an almost maniacal laugh. Sirius leaned away slightly, somewhat disturbed.
'Your wrath? Oh, well, prepare for my — uh, vengeance!' James arched an eyebrow, acting as if vengeance was cooler than wrath — it wasn't.
'Really? What did I do to you that evokes a need for vengeance, Potter?' Sirius questioned, tearing a hand through his hair absentmindedly. 'Kill your pride?' James scoffed.
'I got a lot of pride where that came from, Sirius. It's almost limitless.'
'Humble, James. Very humble.'
'Oh shut your trap.'
Peter was smirking, clearly amused by this display. 'Do you two know each other?' He asked politely. James and Sirius paused, and then both turned to Peter in unison.
'Nope, not one bit.' James said at the same time Sirius said: 'Of course, we're bloody enemies.' James looked at him. 'Actually, I change my mind. We're enemies, I agree. Complete enemies.'
Sirius smirked.
'Exactly, this rivalry has gone on for whole minutes now, it's astounding we haven't broken out into one of our daily fist-fights. Speaking of, if that happens, Peter, you'll have to throw one of us out the window. Preferably not me.'
Peter snorted. 'I'd rather just watch this play out, thanks.' He smirked. James scoffed, visibly feigning offence.
'It seems Pete here is a bloody maniac, not to mention a sadist. Whatever will the madman do next, kill me?' James sighed dramatically, and Peter gasped.
'I am no murderer, James. If anything, I'd help someone else kill you; I'm not getting my hands dirty.' Peter grinned, and James clasped a hand over his clothed heart.
'I'm hurt, Pete. Sobbing. Wounded. Bleeding, but I believe you get the point.'
Sirius cracked his knuckles and jumped at the sound of the loud train whistle. He had expected it to be muffled by, well, the fact Sirius was in the train, and the sound was only amplified. It was oddly irritating. In the corner of Sirius's eye, he could see faceless families waving at their children, and soon enough, the train was chugging forward.
'I've never been on a train before,' Sirius realised, voicing his epiphany. The two boys looked at him with incredulous looks.
'Never?' Peter asked. 'That's odd. You look high class.' Sirius snorted at that. Peter had to be kidding.
'I'm sorry, I look high class?' Sirius laughed. 'I understand that we've just met, but I assure you, I'm far from a proper, snobbish little brat.'
James arched an inquisitive eyebrow. 'You're attending a prestigious boarding school. Seems mighty proper to me.' He smirked. Sirius tried not to glare; for whatever reason, the whole idea of Sirius being even close to being callous made him squirm. He hated the subject.
'And so are you, so don't act all hypocritical.' Sirius hissed. James blinked, surprised by the sudden change of voice, and quite frankly, so was Sirius. 'Ah. Sorry, I just don't like being called upmarket is all.' James nodded, the motion accompanied by a shrug.
'Understandable. Nearly all of the rich, minted folk are rotters.' James said as he glanced out the window. They were out of the station now, and the city was blurring with the motion of the train. Sirius couldn't help but smile at that.
'Complete, utter rotters. You're quite right.' He nodded in agreement with James's words. Truly, he did believe them. All high-class people were bastards, regardless of whether Sirius was living proof of that not always being true, he was a witness to the fact it generally was accurate.
All rich, snobbish, aristocratic families were idiots.
Sirius, of course, not included, as hypocritical as that may be, Sirius Black was, by all definitions, a black sheep — pun severely intended.
Sirius smirked, and the chatter continued, Peter, adding his input here and there. Sirius was beginning to like the two blokes, in total honesty. James was a riot, and Peter was a good listener-- to James, mainly. Sirius looked out the window, staring for a moment as the city disappeared on the horizon and the train moved closer and closer to Hogwarts.
To a change.
Too, finally, some excitement.