Chapter 1
It was 1956. James had been living at the Bergstrom Air Force Base in Austin, Texas, where his father, then Captain ‘Monty’ Fleamont Potter, a career officer, was stationed. It was late one night on a Tuesday evening when Monty had returned late for dinner, a record album in hand that he has handed to his son.
“I got no clue what this Black guy is all about” he had stated, using his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “But he must be something special. I stood in line for about half an hour with the rest of the Air Force at the PX to get this for you and your mother; everybody wants it.”
James had taken the record out from its sleeve and placed it on the hi-fi, as they called it, where the soft tone of ‘Puppy Love’ was played. The album was titled Regulus Black. It was his first.
Like almost every other kid in America, James had liked Black but not as fanatically as many of the other teenagers he knew of his age at Del Valley Junior High. James had noticed that many of the students all wore Black t-shirts and Black hats and Black styled socks and even lipstick in colours with names like Lover Boy and Everyday as if their lives depended on it. Keep in mind, James only heard about the makeup fans from Marlene, who liked to update James as much as she could on the new eyeshadow brands these days.
Regulus was everywhere, on decks of cards and swim trunks, on diaries and wallets and pictures in frames with more colour than James seemed to know exist. James had even noticed that his mates at school had begun trying to look like him, curling out their hair with their mother’s curling irons and neat turned up collars with black hair spray.
James had even heard from Lily that one girl had gotten so crazy about him that she had been seen, from local students, running his local fan club. James had also been nagged that Lily had tried to be charged twenty six cents to join the fan club, which she oh so did, and happened to also show James the fan book she had been given for joining, which James had noticed inside was Regulus signing the bare chests of local fans, which was an unknown act back in the day.
Then later that day, James had seen him on their family television on the local music stage show. The teenager was unable to admit it out loud, but he had looked alluring and handsome, with his dark brooding eyes, soft pink lips, and long black hair. He had graced his way to the microphone, where he had taken a breath, shut his eyes, and caressed his guitar. Then he began singing, with that gentle low tone that everyone had been obsessed with for the past month. Despite how much James had tried to deny it, he was in a daze. Regulus was so irrevocably beautiful.
Despite his more youthful acts, Regulus had also been overly confident, where he had swayed his hips in such an obscene way when he performed, that back in the day it was deemed highly inappropriate. Due to this, some of his adult audience were less enthusiastic. Soon his performances were even labelled as inappropriate and undignified. This later had a toll on the parents, which James had heard from Marlene, that her mother had stated that he was a ‘bad influence for teenage girls’ and that, as the blonde girl had described, ‘he awakens the arousal in women that shouldn’t be awakened’. She had gone on to describe about how her mother would happily march against Regulus Black for the rest of the evening.
But despite all of his ‘performances’, James had found out that Regulus has come from a strict French catholic background, from which he must’ve moved overseas when he was little. He was a gentleman who didn’t smoke nor drink, who loved and honoured his family’s reputation, yet others could call it differently, and who addressed all adults as “sir” or “ma’am”.
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James had grown up being an Air Force child, a passionate, loving little boy who happily gave everything he had to each friend he made, and who became accustomed to moving from base to base every couple of years. It was unfortunate for James, who attached himself to things to quickly, who needed to move so much due to his father’s job. Yet it was the only thing that got food on the table these days.
By the time the brown haired boy had reached the age of twelve, his family had briefly moved to France for a few months due to a sudden base transfer, where James had met a black haired boy on the streets. He had been quite bruised up and dirty in the dark street lights when they had first made eye contact with each other, but by the time James had brought him home with him, as if taking in a stray pup, his mother, Effie Potter, had happily taken him in.
It was then when James had realised, that maybe he wouldn’t need to keep crying over temporary friends he were never able to keep due to when he would need to move overseas every once in a while, and that maybe, just maybe, he had a real friend who could stick with him.
It was after dinner and a good bath when the boy had walked quietly into his room, staring James in the face when he had mumbled, “My name is Sirius” in a thick French accent, the boy pointing to the window where the curtains had been opened to reveal the stars. He had looked at the sky and said “I’m named after a star.”
James had smiled in that moment, with his crooked glasses and baby teeth, that he knew Sirius and him would be best friends.