The truth about history
The weeks at Hogwarts passed in a blur, and Sirius found himself enjoying his classes more than he’d ever expected.
Some subjects were tedious, Herbology was dull, and Astronomy was mostly stuff he already knew. But others were brilliant.
English Literature was one of his favorites. He loved the discussions, the way Professor McGonagall would challenge them to think deeper about the words. He and James had taken to passing notes in class, scribbling ridiculous theories about Shakespearean witches being secret Animagi or Merlin having been a time-traveling wizard from the future.
Art was just as enjoyable. Sirius had always loved drawing, though he never let his family know, his mother thought it was a waste of time. At Hogwarts, though, he could sketch freely, filling the margins of his notes with little doodles of magical creatures, portraits of his friends, and occasionally a cartoon of Slughorn looking confused.
History though, that was different.
He had always loved history, but not because of the way Professor Binns droned on in class. He had learned most of it from his family library, where enormous, ancient books lined the shelves, detailing centuries of wizarding triumphs. He’d read about the great noble families, the powerful pure-blood wizards who had shaped history, the villains who had tried to tarnish their world, Muggle-borns and half-bloods who had supposedly threatened the magical way of life.
At least, that’s what the books at home had said.
But Hogwarts had a real library.
And when Sirius started reading the history books there, he noticed something strange.
The stories were different.
The wars between wizards and Muggles weren’t because Muggles had been savage, hateful creatures, it was because some wizards had hunted them, tortured them, and stolen from them, and the Muggles had fought back. The noble pure-blood families weren’t always great heroes, sometimes, they were the villains. And some of the greatest wizards of all time, the ones who had done the most for magic, weren’t even pure-bloods at all.
His family’s books had lied.
One afternoon, he sat in the common room, staring at an open book in his lap. His mind was still spinning from what he’d read.
James flopped down next to him, peering at the page. "Reading ahead? Merlin, you’re making us look bad."
Sirius didn’t answer.
James nudged him. "Oi. Earth to Sirius."
Sirius looked up, frowning. "Did you know wizarding history books at home aren’t the same as the ones here?"
James blinked. "What?"
Peter, sitting nearby, tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I mean, I've been reading different history. Everything, comletely diffrent. In books at home, It would say that Muggleborns would start all these wars and everything. But it was all lies"
James stared at him. "You didn’t know?"
Sirius glared. "I knew my family were a bunch of nutcases, but I didn’t think they’d rewrite history."
Remus, who had been quiet until now, frowned. "They probably think it’s the truth. That’s how propaganda works."
Sirius exhaled sharply. "Yeah, well, it worked on me for years."
James shook his head. "I knew your family was bad, mate, but that bad?"
Sirius scoffed. "Worse."
Peter shifted uncomfortably. "So... they just make stuff up?"
"Apparently," Sirius muttered. He flipped the page of his book. "I’m going to unlearn everything they ever taught me."
James grinned. "Well, you came to the right place. Welcome to actual history."
Sirius smirked, but there was something bitter in it. He still wasn’t sure what to do with this new knowledge, how to feel about it.