One Minute
We'll travel south ‘cross land
Put out the fire and don't look past my shoulder
The exodus is here, the happy worlds are near
Let's get together before we get much older
Teenage wasteland
‘Baby O’Riley’ The Who
Sirius Black first shook hands with James Potter, circa 1971.
“Potter, did you say?” Sirius had drawled, raising a very aristocratic brow before sighing with dramatic relief. “Perfect, I’m Sirius Black. Go ahead and tell me off so I can tell Mum I tried to beat you off with a stick.”
James laughed, shaking his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Black.”
“Mum won’t be pleased,” Sirius informed him with a grin, giving James an appraising look before slumping into one of the train compartment seats, the door shutting behind him. “Poor woman, she’d roll in her grave if she wasn’t alive.”
“You’re Sirius Black?” Asked the plump boy by the door, flipping his blond hair from his face.
“Regrettably. You’re a Pettigrew, aren’t you?”
The Pettigrew in question nodded gamely, swinging his legs a bit since he couldn’t reach the compartment floor.
“That’s just brilliant, truly.” Sirius finally relaxed, tucking an expensive boot onto the seat and resting his arm across his knee. There was another boy in the compartment, staring uninterestedly out the window beside him, wearing a pair of worn-out muggle jeans and a long-sleeved blue shirt despite the weather. Sirius studied him and nudged him with his other boot.
“You’re not some long-lost cousin of mine, are you?” He meant it as a joke, but the boy only spared him a glance.
Sirius waited but still the boy said nothing, and he decided it wasn’t worth the battle until he grumbled begrudgingly, “No, I’m bloody not.”
James brightened in an instant. It seemed it was a battle he had attempted as well. “Where are you from, Remus?”
But it was to no avail, the boy just shrugged and turned away again, missing the way James’ face fell.
In light of the awkward silence, Pettigrew spoke again, wringing his hands. “Haven’t you heard the rumors? About the sorting? What if the hat doesn’t work on me?”
“Don’t worry Pete, my dad says that hasn’t happened in ages.” James ran a distracted summer-browned hand through his already wild hair. He looked like a boy used to being adored and Sirius wanted to be just like him.
This did not console Pete. “Your dad was also the same one to say the hat will set you on fire if you aren’t worthy.”
James shrugged. “My dad also says rolling your eyes will make them fall out.”
“This isn’t making me feel any better,” Pete grumbled, swinging his feet again.
“Well, my parents were in Gryffindor,” James stated proudly. “And I’m going to be just like them. You too, Pete.”
“How do you know?” Sirius asked genuinely. It was on his mind-and quite frankly Sirius was afraid. Well, vaguely worried. Sirius was never afraid. But he still wondered if he was to be placed into Slytherin, just like the rest of his family. He wondered if he was no better than any of them, if the hat would see right through him. Sirius worried he was toujours pur.
“Because I want it, I suppose. I never thought I would get anything other-”
Their compartment door slid open, and a young girl with soft red plaited hair and rounded cheeks peered in. She went a bit pink as three of them turned to stare. Remus, whoever he was, remained passive in his staring contest with the window.
“Hello,” James said when she had shut her mouth into a little bow.
“Hi.” She rocked on her heels, seeming to debate something internally before it eventually made its way out. “I was looking for someone. I’m sorry for intruding, for a moment I thought I saw him.”
She made to close the door again, now completely red, but James beat her to it and called, “You can join us if you like, we’ve still got a seat.”
She paused and shook her head, drumming her fingers on the compartment door frame. “I wouldn’t want…”
“You don’t have to. I’m James.” He stuck out his hand, grinning. “If you remember I’ll see you at Hogwarts.”
She glanced back the way she had come, then sighed and shook his hand quickly. “Alright.”
She came in, and Pete begrudgingly scooted over, but they were all small enough that they still had plenty of room. Sirius found that he couldn’t relax anymore, his nonchalance feeling more of an act than he was used to.
She looked just as awkward as the rest of them, sitting primly with her back straight and freckled nose high.
James looked very pleased indeed. “Are you a first-year too?”
“I am.” She fiddled with the ends of her skirt. “I’m Lily.”
Sirius attempted to sit still but soon realized in the now crowded compartment he wasn’t allowed to move about. He started nudging his toe against the scarred boy in front of him again, who did not appreciate it and sent him a scathing glare. Sirius, delighted, continued until Remus stomped his foot on top of Sirius’ shined dragon leather boots, then retreated, pulling up his foot to rest on the seat just as Sirius had done.
“...and see here, Pete’s got all four special cards of Merlin, see? It’s sort of a wizard past time. You can have my Thomas Fitzroy card, he’s my favorite.”
Lily’s lips curled into a gentle smile. “Thanks. The Ballycastle Bats…isn’t that a sort of quidditch team?”
“Only the best one around,” James said excitedly, but Lily only frowned.
Hesitantly, she pushed the card back to a disjointed James, saying, “Sev said the cards are childish.”
“Childish?” Sirius interjected, making her jump as Peter dropped the cards to the compartment floor. “Only wizards who don’t get the good ones say that.”
He and James shared a look as Lily bit her lip. “It’s just—well, I wouldn’t know! Sev’s the one that’s mostly told me everything.”
“And he said chocolate frog cards are rubbish.” James reiterated.
She shrugged.
“Well, Sev sounds like a complete git.” Sirius mimicked her shrug, to which James let out a soft snort.
Lily bristled instantly, leveling a glare their way. “He is not a git.”
“Blimey, could’ve fooled me.” He looked her up and down. He could spot a muggle blouse anywhere, with her muggle trainers. “You're a muggle-born, aren’t you.”
“Sure am,” Lily shot back vehemently, but the longer they stared at each other the more she grew weary. “What about it?”
Sirius closed his mouth, hesitating. As he did, James Potter glanced into the side of Sirius’ face. What was he to say? Why had he said it? Sirius knew the extent of the things his relatives said about people like Lily, knew the extent of what was drilled into him from birth, but he was here to begin anew. No mother waiting for his floor-kissing reply towards his father’s inane politics. No cousins to appease with nods and evasive laughter. Although he never did, how easy would it be to give in? To give in and be loved?
“Nothing. Just asking. Nice gold.” She reached a tentative hand to the small earrings dangling from her freckled ears, eyebrows furrowed.
“Oh. Thank you.”
They gave each other a nod, and that was that.
The car continued in lively conversation, with James holding court to inform Lily and Peter (who already heard it twice) about how Godric Gryffindor came to wield the infamous sword. Sirius, in a series of evading boredom, switched between James' theatrical tales to torturing the quiet boy in the corner. There were only so many moments he could handle being ignored until the compartment door opened not too long after his third attempt at asking him questions and Sirius was effectively distracted.
A boy, hidden behind a curtain of greasy black hair, poked his nose into their humble abode. Sirius didn’t miss the way Lily’s eye brightened or the way this boy upturned his nose as he surveyed the lot of them.
“Sev!” She cried, hopping to her feet. “I had been looking for you!”
Sev looked at her skeptically. “Apparently not for very long. I’m a few compartments down, Mulciber said he saw you when he passed by.”
Sirius watched as her smile strained, before being distracted by Peter’s swinging feet again. The end of his boot almost narrowly missed James' knee and blocked Lily’s trek to the door.
“Oh. Sorry, Sev, I really thought I wouldn’t find a seat.” True to her word, she really did sound genuine. Sirius couldn’t find it in him to understand why she would be. And Mulciber? That was a surname Sirius remembered, just to avoid. If there was a Mulciber devil’s pawn waltzing about the compartments, he couldn’t imagine what sort of damage would be done in the Slytherin common room. All the more reason to be a Hufflepuff, Sirius thought.
“Well, I saved you one.” He leaned away as if it was enough of an invitation and Lily glanced around the apartment, fiddling with her earring again.
James shared a glance with Sirius, eyebrows raised.
She gave them a pointed look, but when none of them introduced themselves, she did it for them. “I thought you might like to meet them, Severus. This here's Peter, James, and…”
Sirius fought an eye roll. “Black. There’s Remus.” He said, nodding towards the sulky git.
Sev said nothing, letting her talk and fill the space. It was obvious how much he wanted to take her and run.
“Yeah. Anyway, they were telling me all about Gryffindor and the–”
Sev’s eyes widened so big Sirius could have fit a gallon in them before he sputtered, “Gryffindor? Oh please. C’mon, Lil, let's not stay.” He reached out to take her arm and Peter finally stopped his swinging.
“Not with the likes of us, huh?” James asked with a frown.
“He didn’t mean it like that,” Lily assured.
Sev looked instantly defensive. “Well, we all know Slytherin is the best.”
“Who says?” Sirius grinned, the same smirk with a history of mistakes behind it. “Take a breath, Herpo the Foul. What Salazar doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Severus turned several shades of red. “What, and like that isn’t your legacy? Good luck getting anything else, Black. Potter over there will be left to live with the bleeding hearts and half-breeds.”
“Stop!” Lily took Severus’s hand, stopping him from entering the compartment and nearly squishing Peter in the process. “Both of you! I mean it.”
“No need to be jealous.” Sirius shot back, “Not all of us are brave enough.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?”
“Let’s just go, Sev. It’s not worth it.” Lily tugged on his arm but the boy remained, sneering at them until Lily made a noise in the back of her throat and tossed a braid over her shoulder, slamming the compartment door shut.
Sirius snickered, but something in his stomach twisted, like a python wrapping around his spine and up around his throat. Severus Snape didn’t know anything. So what if Sirius had a history of dark wizards in his family? That meant nothing to Sirius–really, it was generational progress that Sirius wasn’t possessed by his ancestors to kick every orphan and spit at babies.
James leaned back into his seat, sighing, “My dad would hate him.”
Sirius blinked at the empty compartment door window.
My Mum would love him.
They lapsed into silence, with Peter shuffling through his cards and Sirius shifting restlessly. The row had lit a fire in him, its gnawing itch to keep going still chasing through him. Sirius always had that problem, having to be removed from rooms or parties or dinners to be locked, alone with his thoughts, as he had to fight to not tear the walls down.
Peter had just opened his mouth when the boy by the window asked quietly, “What’s wrong with half-breeds?”
Sirius whipped his head his way as the anger ebbed, meeting the hard gaze there. In the sun-sinking sky behind him, his eyes looked like pools of ink.
James' face darkened. “That lad was a git,” He reiterated, “It’s just a crap bias.”
“Some are dangerous though,” Peter supplied offhandedly, but he wilted at the incredulous look on James’ face. “Sometimes!”
“It’s nothing,” James said to Remus, who pinched his lips and shrugged.
They waited as Remus looked around at them, as though gauging their very marrows. Sirius attempted to compartmentalize his expression as those dark eyes assessed him. The scars across his skin caught the warm compartment lights, like sunken trenches of a battlefield.
Pockmarked down the scope of his jaw, Sirius wondered what they were from.
Remus hesitated once, but something about their silence opened his lips to tentatively say, “he seemed like a dodgy bloke.”
It was the best olive branch they had been offered this whole time, and a small part of Sirius’ heart fluttered in success.
For some reason, he wanted to be liked by this mysterious and quiet boy.
James laughed out loud, grabbing Sirius’ shoulder and shaking it. “I knew you were of sound judgment. Pete, do you still have your snaps?”
Peter did, digging through his pockets for the cards which he laid out before them on an upended trunk. Sirius scooted forward, excited.
James offered a set to Remus, but the boy only shrugged and watched them begin.
The closer they got to Hogwarts, the further Sirius felt from home. Starring around the compartment, at James, Peter Pettigrew, and even that boy Remus, he knew relief like a stranger. It ran through his veins and pooled right in his gut, and at the moment the snapping card blew up in Peter’s face, he knew he wasn’t leaving. Definitions were shifting right before his eyes, and cold hallways and cold people became three faces and a compartment.
And Sirius smiled, for no reason at all.
That night, once the boys had gone through their belongings, messed around with their curtains, and stopped their ceaseless talking, Sirius lay in his bed but imagined that his body was filled with air.
The bed was unfamiliar but soft, the curtains around his four-poster a deep Gryffindor red. His heart thrummed so hard he could feel it against the fabric of the blanket as he listened to the others settle down.
The surreal feeling swallowed him, the darkness at the top of the wooden frame sinking like a shroud around his body.
He felt like a fraud. His cousin's eyes had followed him from the stool to the other side of the Great Hall, the whoops and cheers from his table coming from the sheer shock that Sirius Black had made the biggest mistake of his life. His mother and father would be informed before he even had the gall to send an owl. By morning, Sirius would have to pay for the hat’s damnable choice. Or was it his? Sirius didn’t want to know.
Hmmm…another Black, eh?
If you couldn’t tell when I walked up then you’re not half as smart as I thought you were.
Hats do not have eyes, young Black.
They also typically don’t have minds either, but I’m sure you already figured I’d say that.
Ha! Perhaps I did. You remind me of your father. And what an interesting mind you have, young Mister Black. I sense that there’s a determination in you that burns and a bravery that insures unfathomable risk…You are desperate for a chance to prove your worth, but always at war between your loyalty and your inherent rashness. You are worried if that is not enough to stave you from fate?
Fate, parents, call it what you want.
I see.
It’s what they would want, if I’m not.
Too bad I am only a hat…GRYFFINDOR!
The gravelly voice still rang in his ears, whispering into his head all the things that rotted in Sirius since birth. All the years giving his parents grievances, breaking rules, and doing as he pleased. All the years saying he was going to get him and Regulus out of there, even if Regulus said he didn’t want to go.
Said it wasn’t possible, that family was blood and there was no escape from what they were meant to become.
But Sirius was proof. But the concept of escape made him feel terribly alone.
Sirius threw off the covers, sliding his legs over the side to patter over to James' bed beside his, grabbing the curtain and peering in only slightly.
James’ was cross-legged by his pillow, an array of photographs laid out before him under the lowlights of a lamp on his bed frame. He looked up, spotting Sirius, smiled, and patted the spot in front of him.
Sirius clambered in, careful to not disturb the photographs, and leaned forward on his knees. “Can’t sleep?”
“Nah,” James whispered, “Dunno why. You too?”
“Yeah.” Sirius swallowed, looking at the pictures upside down. “What are these?”
His face brightened instantly, his finger pointing down at the ones closest to him. “That there’s my Dad, see, with the square glasses? Here, come closer.” Sirius scooted to James' side, watching the photographs with awe. “That’s my Mum, with the brown hair. They were arguing over what spell to use on the badly charmed pie before it exploded in their faces.” Sirius smiled softly, seeing their open mouths in shock as the purple goop slid off of their noses. He saw James in them, in the skin and the height and the kind eyes.
Merlin, they looked so happy.
“And this here, Pete and I did a quidditch game on my quidditch hoops, and we dressed Dad in gold robes and made him our snitch. I think it's the only game in history where the snitch scored 400 points.” Sirius knew who Fleamont Potter was in passing–all the Black’s knew any aspiring witch or wizard with some power to their name, but Sirius had only seen the man once while visiting the Ministry with his parents.
His father had leaned in and said, his gold isn’t worth a gallon, Sirius. We Black’s understand where our wealth comes from, and it is ancient and powerful. He’ll be eaten alive by the end of the century.
Fleamont looked like none of that wealth was worth shit compared to everything else, passing little James a Christmas box as Euphemia raised a toast to the house elf that had helped make Christmas dinner. She winked at them when Sirius stared for too long, remembering his own desolate Christmas spent punished in his room.
“We vacationed in a remote spot in Italy a couple summers ago. That was me dueling a magicked statue of armor with a medieval sword. I lost, but I only had a broom to fight with since I didn’t have a wand then.”
“That sounds exciting,” Sirius said, but he was fighting the bitter taste of jealousy. He wanted that. He wanted parents like that. The pictures became an army against Sirius’ cold heart.
“I know! And that was Peter and I getting ice creams in town, and that’s me and Mum at a quidditch parade in Diagon Alley.” James looked up at Sirius’ face and paused. “You okay?”
“Yeah!” Sirius cleared his throat, eyes burning. “Yeah, James, I’m alright.”
“D’you have any pictures you brought?”
Sirius glanced away. “Not really.” Other than one of him and Reggie, and a family posed portrait where he was dressed in formal robes and forced to place his hand on his cousin Bellatrix's shoulder, there was nothing to bring him fond memories of home. “It’s not something we really do.”
“Well, my mum’s going to want pictures of this year,” James said firmly. “You’re going to have to deal with it.”
Sirius scoffed. “I’ll be sure to hide my grimace.”
James knocked his knee against his as they grinned at each other. “What is your family like?”
Sirius stared down at the red covers, picking at his silk pajama pants. “Let's just say it's no place for a Potter.”
James frowned, and Sirius knew he was watching him with a look Sirius didn’t want. “Really, Potter, what do you expect? It’s the noble and ancient House of Black. We’re not infamous for nothing.”
“Are they bad to you?” The question was so quiet, so genuine. Sirius hated it and craved it at the same time.
“They’re bad to everyone.”
“I’m sorry, mate.”
“Reg’s pretty good though, when he’s not kissing the ground my Mum walks on. And Andromeda and my Uncle Alphard are definitely better than average.” He said defensively. James raised his hands as though to soothe a skittish dog.
“I believe you. Really. And now you’ve got us.” James dropped a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius looked at him, eyebrows furrowed.
“Us?”
“Me, Mum, and Dad. And Peter, and I’d say we’ll get Lupin to come around.”
Sirius smiled despite himself. “Being friends with me is going to draw a lot of unwanted attention, you know.”
“But I’m so dashing it’ll happen anyway.”
“Oh, shove off.” Sirius pushed away James’ face with his blinking dramatic eyes, scooting to the edge of the bed to go back to his, now feeling infinitely better. “‘Night, Potter.”
“Just you wait, Black,” James said, tossing his photographs on his side table and sliding under his blanket. He crossed his arms beneath his head, the lamp light dying. “This is the start of the rest of our lives.”
Sirius was inclined to believe him, and he almost did.