Rebel, rebel!

King’s Cross station is loud. Remus doesn’t do very well with that.

He’s as plastered to his father’s side as he can physically be. There are people walking in all directions all around him, and there are so many eyes pinned to his face that it’s hard to have his own on anything but the ground. Remus knows, objectively, that a lot of them mean well; he’d probably be curious too, if he saw some kid out and about with giant scars slashing through his skin. But he also knows that plenty of them feel entitled . Entitled to know how he got every one, entitled to the facts on exactly what he's faced; entitled to him . Every time he meets someone like that he has to work to hold back tears. So while his dad’s firm grip on his shoulder guides him through the train station, and everyone is looking at him, Remus very pointedly looks at the floor. It feels like ages of this, staring at the ground and breathing, before his dad stops walking.

“Here y’are,” Lyall Lupin whispers down at his son, causing him to jerk his head up. What he’s faced with is a tan brick pillar, just about as wide as four or five average people, without a sign, message, or clue to what it is anywhere near it. But Remus knows what it is. Remus has been reading up on this. 

He’s at the platform that will let him onto a train, which will let him into school. He’s at platform 9 ¾.

He breathes. In, out. He imagines he has a book to anchor him. He imagines the rhythmic, grounding feeling of flipping the page. 

His father’s hand is lightly pushing him forwards, and he can hear his trolley full of bags rolling on the cement beside him in his dad’s other hand. 

I can do this, he thinks. I have to do this.

With a leap of faith forwards and his eyes closed, Remus jumps through the pillar.

*

Lily can’t breathe . She’s just walked through a whole bloody wall . If she’s ever felt like the witch she apparently is, it’s right now.

All around her, things are practically whirling. There are kids swarmed together in huddles, laughing and exclaiming about how badly they’ve missed one another. There are younger looking kids- her age, she reckons- who are standing nervously across the station, looking around frantically and fidgeting with their hands. There are whole live owls fluttering about in cages. When she saw the note on her letter that said she could bring one, she laughed. This really, really was a whole new universe from what she knew. And somehow in this dusty, foreign, bustling train station, she’s never been more at home.

“Lily!”

Oh, thank God. She feels her heart settle a bit, the excitement and anticipation fading from near painful, near panic, to safe and good again. She turns to the boy running up to her, with straight black hair that goes down just past his ears and skin so pale it’s almost alarming, and smiles and waves to him, equally as enthusiastic as he is. “Sev!”

They both move to one another, and they’re suddenly crashing into a hug. They’re smiling, and laughing, and they’re going to go to wizard school . It’s lovely. It’s brilliant. Lily has never been so damn happy. Has never been so damn her . 

“You’re ready?” Severus asks, pulling away from the embrace. He’s smiling at her, the way he always does. It’s soft and genuine, and it just makes his dark eyes crinkle. 

Lily laughs outright, throwing her head back and crossing her arms. “Probably not. Let’s go!”

And pulling her best friend’s hand, and pushing her stuff in her other, Lily runs to join the crowd at the side of the tracks, so she can wait for her life to change.

*

“JAMES, STOP RUNNING YOU PIECE OF-”

“MARLENE MCKINNON, WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE!”

Peter is hearing a lot of people speaking, and a lot of people yelling, but his mind is laser focused on looking for one. And the owner of the voice he’s looking for just had his name screamed across the platform by a certain spunky blonde who scares the crap out of most people. And low and behold, just as his name is called, James Potter crashes into Peter’s back. 

“Pete! Mate! It’s you!” He smiles his signature James Potter smile, glasses askew on his nose, and Peter smiles right back. His best friend is… noticeable, to say the least. He really does shine, and everyone sees it. He’s so bright that it’s impossible for Peter not to stare.  It’s impossible for anyone not to. He’s so similar to the sun that he feels like he even has to look up, even though James is almost exactly his height, and sometimes it hurts to keep looking at him. Right now though, he couldn’t bring himself to be anywhere but with James. Right now, Peter Pettigrew feels honoured to be subject to the sun’s glare. To be its friend.

“James!”

As he always does, James launches into a story. It’s really just the kind of story James would have- he’s run from his mum and Marlene to come find him, after the two of them had conned their parents into buying them toffee on the drive there. He says that’s why they’re later than they were supposed to be, and that he’s saved some for Peter, and that Marlene and the two of them would all sit in a carriage together, and all sorts of things that had some vague relevance to whatever James’ main point was but generally sort of circles around it. That’s one of his most James Potter traits- he speaks with no rhythm. Which seems to work out fine really, because Peter hasn’t met a single person who isn’t absolutely charmed by the boy and his all-over demeanor. Everyone ever is charmed by James Potter.

“Are you ready?”

Peter scrunches his eyebrows. “For what?”

And with an eye roll and another James Potter grin, he laughs. “For Hogwarts, Pete. C’mon.”

For spending seven years as a dynamic duo with you? With James Potter? With the sun? “ Yeah, ‘course I am.” 

“Good, then we should go find Mar before the train leaves,” He laughs, already walking. James is good at that- just doing things. He’s the direct opposite of a procrastinator. Peter reckons that James is probably the only reason he ever does anything. The need to be like his best friend drives him, most of the time. But despite his idol’s request, Peter doesn't really want to go find Marlene. He wants to sit with James alone and keep him to himself; let the rest of the world just see him, let the rest of the world bask in the way that the sun shines.

But James wants to go find Marlene. 

So Peter is running around the platform, trying to find Marlene. 

*

“Regulus, Sirius, hurry up.”

Just ahead of him, but not ahead of their mum, Sirius is speed walking, with all the force his eleven year old legs can muster, but steadily being distracted by everything around him. It’s just about the least posh, least noble house of Black place they’ve ever been too. And behind him, from where he’s scurrying, Regulus can tell he’s already entranced. That he’s already chosen this- this busy life with people who care about furthering their happiness over furthering their power. And so he’s already mourning the loss of his older brother.

“You’re going to miss the train if you don’t walk faster.” 

Walburga has a certain way of speaking, with a slight pause between each word, that makes everything she says sound like it was carved into stone. One time, in one of the late nights where Regulus had snuck into his brother’s room, Sirius confessed how much their mother’s voice irked him. How it made him want to bite something. He’d said it as if it was a given, and of course his little brother would feel the same, so there was no need to pose it as a question. Really, Regulus did not feel the same. When his mother spoke, he just got scared. It was like ice pricks poking into his spine. But who was he to argue with Sirius? As different as they were, his mother and brother did have something in common. Something he admired in one and feared in the other. They both spoke, moved, and acted with such surety that it was like no one could ever change their minds. 

And while Walburga’s mind was always on one thing, the family legacy, Regulus knew where Sirius’ was.

He just wanted to leave. 

As they stopped before the train tracks, with swarms of kids surrounding them, Regulus had never seen his brother so excited. He was practically jumping up and down, the way he rolled from the balls of his feet to his heels. Despite his mother’s scoffing, which Sirius was ignoring quite skillfully,  he was grinning like a madman.

In that, Regulus was ready to accept that he wouldn't say goodbye. That his big brother had forgotten him. 

But as it turns out, just like he always promises, Sirius would never forget him.

“You’ll be alright, yeah?” He smiles, looking down at his brother with shining blue eyes. Regulus nods. “Good. ‘Course you will.” Then his smile broke from being polite and reasonable to a full, toothy smirk. It made Regulus smile too. “I raised you well, didn’t I? You’re gonna be fine.”

“I love you, Sirius,” Regulus smiled, and reached out his arms for a hug. His brother didn’t waste a second before reciprocating.

“I love you too, Reggie.” 

“Sirius.” Walburga’s voice pierced through their moment, sharp and pointed like an arrowhead. The brothers both turned to where she was standing, dressed in a gown most unlike the ones she wore normally- one with colour. That colour being navy blue, but still. Colour nonetheless. Her hands were clasped in front of her, the dignified way to stand while waiting, as they’d been taught, and she nodded curtly in front of her. As if on cue, the chain let out a loud, drawn out whistle, and Sirius let out a short but audible gasp. 

The Hogwarts express was there. 

There for Sirius to leave in. 

Regulus tried to push down the tears welling in his eyes. He nearly lost it, too, when his brother leaned down to ruffle his hair. Until someone crashed right into the two of them and sent them stumbling. 

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry- you’re the second person I've done that to today, I’m so- oh, crikey, there are two of you? I’ve really crashed into three people before school has even started? I’m so so sorry, God, here- let me help you up,” Reaching out his hands was a boy who looked about Sirius’ age, with thick, messy hair and brown skin, and glasses in front of his eyes. He was tripping over himself, movements all over, but he was being so…nice. It made the breath catch in Regulus’ throat.

“Oh, no problem mate,” Sirius laughed, grabbing one of the outstretched hands and lifting himself. Regulus quickly followed suit.

“Is this your first year?” The nice boy asked, looking between the two of them brightly. Regulus was very conscious of the way his mother was looking at the three of them, and tried to slow his breathing a bit. Instinctively, he took a step backwards.

“Yeah, it’s mine. Not Reg’s, though, he’ll be here next year. I’m, uh,” he took a gulp before his own introduction, like the words hurt to spit out. It made Regulus wince. “I’m Sirius Black. Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh, nice to meet you as well! I’m James Potter. It’s my first year too.” Ah. In his mind’s eye, Regulus could see exactly what Walburga’s face looked like. At least what it wanted to look like. The furl of her lip and the draw of her eyebrows was an expression that was permanently printed into the Black brothers’ memories. One she was very likely to make at the mention of a family like this boy’s. The Potter's weren’t… well liked, by the Blacks. Or the Lestranges. Or the Malfoys. Or anyone in any family that Walburga would let step foot into her house. 

Not sparing a glance to either Regulus or his mother, James gestured vaguely behind him at two kids. Both pale with blonde hair, but one a tall and excited girl with a choppy haircut and one a chubby and antsy looking boy with frantic eyes. “That’s Peter and Marlene. Want to join us all in our carriage?”

Regulus watched his brother’s eyes widen. “Really?”

James laughed, as if the idea that he wouldn’t want him there, a member of a family that his was sworn enemies with, was preposterous. “‘Course really. Is that a yes?”

His shocked, almost innocent expression melted into a staple Sirius Black grin. “Yeah, for sure. Totally.” He turned then, rushed, to face his little brother. “I’ll see you at Christmas, yeah?”

Regulus couldn’t repress the way his eyebrows scrunched. “And you’ll write.”

He laughed through his nose. “And I’ll write.”

Regulus had his pride, even at his ten years of age, and didn’t want to have to be the one to run up and hug him again. Which proved to work out, because Sirius charged forwards and embraced him one last time. Regulus could have sworn he heard a whispered “ love you ,” but it might have been his imagination. That or he’s the one who said it. He’s not sure which he’d prefer.

Sirius only turned back once between then and getting on the train, to give a final wave backwards with a hubris-ridden smile, and then he was gone. All around Regulus, parents and siblings and family and friends were whooping and hollering, but he and his mother stayed silent. And before he knew it, Regulus could feel long, cold nails on his shoulder, and he was walking out of the platform and back to the station In a whirl of colour, he was apparated back to Grimmauld with his mother muttering angrily about what she needed to get done. For the first time in all his life, he was stuck there with no Sirius beside him. That thought made stuffy air stick to the walls of his lungs.

*

“Lily, slow down,” Severus laughed, just under his breath. Not that he really cared, though. Lily could do whatever she wanted. She’s Lily. Of course she could.

“How are you not running around too?” She exclaimed, genuinely baffled. She’s pulling her best friend down the carpeted floor of the train, looking all around for an empty carriage. Severus is just sort of… trailing. He’s really quite content to. He’s finally in a world where he can properly show Lily Evans everything he’s been telling her about. She’ll finally understand it all; why she needs to leave things behind. 

“Well, I think that we’ll get there in better shape if we walk slowly and safely. You know, try not to bash our faces in, and all that.”

Lily laughs her brilliant, beautiful laugh, and Severus suddenly feels like he’s accomplished everything he needs to. Screw magic. He’s got Lily Evans. His lungs freeze and he’s dazed so instantly that it takes him a second to stop swaying and process that Lily has stopped moving, in front of an open carriage door. Internally, he snaps himself out of it to get ready to respond to whatever she’s saying. But when she speaks, it’s not directed at him.

“Oh, hello! I’m Lily, who are you?”

Severus hears a light startle from inside the carriage, someone dropping their feet down and gasping, before the person clears their throat. A male voice speaks up tentatively. “...uh, hi. I’m Remus.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you,” she answers, her voice bright and oh so Lily . “Sev, come say hi!” She exclaims, finally turning back to him and flapping her hand towards herself. “This is my best friend, Severus. We’re all first years, then?”

He moves up to be in front of the door, and nearly jumps backwards. He represses it enough that it’s just a flinch and a swallow. The guy in front of them, Remus, is littered in scars. Three slashes through his tan face, and countless others scattered over the rest of his visible skin. He’s practically curled into himself, in the back corner of the seat he’s in, and his coffee-brown eyes are staring at the friends in front of him warily. Severus feels a protective surge telling him to grab Lily’s arm and run down the train, and pray that they never have to cross paths with this scarred-up Remus boy ever again. But Lily seems less than inclined to act like that, and she’s showing off the full, searing force of her beautiful smile at this… this freak sitting in front of him. That makes bile rise to the back of his throat.

He doesn’t deserve her smile.

Lily, very clearly, doesn’t think the same. She smiles anyways.

Remus, eyes still bouncing all over, leaves just a little pause after Lily asks what year he’s going into. He looks to be taking deep breaths. That makes Severus scrunch his face- why in the world would he be so scared of these people he’s never met?

Maybe he’s scared we’re like whatever gave him those, Severus thinks. The voice in his head sounds more biting than it usually does. Especially when he’s with Lily. He’s thinking in the same voice his brain uses to cuss out his father. 

“... yeah. I’m going into my first year too.”

“Oh, lovely!” She exclaims, throwing her hands together. “Do you mind if we ride here with you? It looks like every other carriage is full.”

I mind, Severus thinks, I mind very much.

Remus seems to as well, but it’s more in an anxious way than Severus’ we just met and I already hate you way. Severus Snape knows he’s a petty person, he simply doesn’t care enough to change it. He finds that it helps him in most situations. Maybe not ones like this, though. Remus forces an awkward smile, gestures in front of him, and attempts to open his book again. Good. Severus thinks. He just wants to talk to her . But Lily, as wonderful as she may be, doesn’t seem to get that reading means that Remus probably doesn’t want to talk to them. They’ve barely sat down, and she’s speaking up before his eyes even start moving down lines. “How exciting is this, Remus? Do you know what house you’ll be in? Are your parents muggle? Or magic?”

“Uh, Lily, I don’t think he wants to talk to us,” Severus laughs awkwardly. He didn’t really mean to speak, but the words practically threw themselves out of him. His voice is harsher than he usually hears it.

“OH! Merlin, I’m so sorry, I’ve interrupted your reading. We’ll leave you be, promise. I’m so sorry,” Lily panics, hands suddenly in front of her mouth. That’s one of the most notable things about how Lily Evans talks- she’s always moving her hands. Severus loves it.

“No, no- I don’t mind- I’m pretty excited. I want to try and learn all I can. I figure I’ll be in… Ravenclaw, I guess? Like my dad was. He’s a wizard, but my mum’s not. I was raised by her side of the family, though, so I’m not too sure how much of the magic stuff works,” he finishes his sentence with another awkward  laugh. It’s work for Severus not to scoff.

“Oooh, I’m excited for the learning too! That feels so weird to say about school. My parents aren’t magic, so I’ve got just about no clue what goes on here. Minus what Sev’s taught me.”

He nods at us. “That’s cool. Are your parents wizards, then?”

“...Mum is,’

“Ah. Cool.” Severus assumes that Remus can tell he’s being wary. And that he’s suddenly inexplicably angry. If the crouched boy’s posture, expression, and way of speaking was anything to go by, he definitely, definitely does. To be frank, Severus doesn’t quite care. 

Immediately, Lily picks up the pace again. She’s talking, elated, between Remus and Severus. He actually learned a lot about the curly haired boy in front of him; that his full name is Remus John Lupin, that his parents are called Hope and Lyall, that his favourite things to read are Greek tragedies. Nothing about the scars all over him. Every time Lily asks him anything, turns to him, smiles his way, a prickle of something burning and smoky flares up in his lungs. Every time they speak to each other, and he isn’t in the conversation, Severus Snape starts to like the idea of this school a little less.

*

Across the train from the wizarding world’s most cursed trio, James is thinking about how the black-haired boy in front of him was without a doubt the coolest person he has ever met. Fortunately, everyone in their carriage seems to agree. 

“Y’know, Sirius, my Dad told me you’d be coming to school this year,” Marlene spoke from her spot in the moving Hogwarts express, her words garbled by what was likely a nauseating handful of every-flavour beans.

Sirius laughs at that, sprawled lazily with his head against the train window. His laugh, his stance, his speech; everything about the boy is so… effortless. Like he was easily the most awe-inspiring person in the room, without even trying to be. “What’d he say? That I’m bad news?”

Marlene laughs back. “More or less.”

“You’re a McKinnon, right?” Sirius asked, a dark eyebrow quirked. Marlene nodded. “Ha! My mother mentioned you too. Something about your family being one of insolent fools. ”

“Insolent fools? Yikes,” she snorts, and Peter and James both take in a hiss of breath. “That’s a little harsh.”

Sirius shrugs. “Yeah. He’s a bit of a… harsh man, t’be honest,” at the silence that followed his response, he laughs once again. “Hey, if he wasn’t, how would I have become so charming? I have to contradict him in every way possible, you know. So now you’ve been blessed with a delightful presence to bask in.”

James takes a second to reel at those words. It’s a bit of a foreign concept to him, and the possibility of parents like Sirius’ brings fear and anger pulsing to his chest all at once. But part of it also entices him. It makes him want to get close to Sirius and learn everything, fix everything. It was conflicting and addicting to converse with Sirius Black. Their silence has Malrene’s chewing of various disgusting candy flavours and the wheels running as white noise, and everyone just sort of sits in that for a minute. But if Peter Pettigrew has done one thing for James, it’s swooping in to interrupt whenever he got out of rhythm. 

“Do you have any idea what house you’ll be in, Sirius?”

The boy groans in response, slumping further in his seat across from James with a hand flicked dramatically over his forehead. “Ugh, yes. I’m from the damn house of Black, you know. I’m genetically predisposed for Slytherin.”

Instinctively, James pipes up. “You haven’t been sorted yet, though. Maybe you won’t be.”

Sirius whips his head around, blue eyes staring at brown ones shielded behind too-big glasses. For the second time that day, the first being when James asked him to join them in the carriage, he looked thoroughly shaken.  But that shock evaporates in seconds, and Sirius clears his throat. “Guess not, yeah.”

In some weird way, that made him feel inexplicably guilty, James kind of revelled in the sense of accomplishment that came with being the only one who’d been able to surprise him yet. He could surprise Sirius. The thought made him nearly giddy, made him swell with pride. 

He was going to become friends with Sirius Black. He could feel it. 

*

The kids Dorcas is sitting with are… really boring. And she’s thanking God for that. Or, she's trying to. But she’s a bit busy trying not to fall asleep. There isn’t a single thought, gratitude or otherwise, floating around her brain. Which meant no thinking about the devastating disappointment her parents would undoubtedly feel for her once she got to school. She likes that they can drown it out.

To her dismay, or maybe her comfort- she hasn’t quite decided, the kids sound just like her parents. They speak with almost comical predictability- Gryffindor, valour, chivalry, Dumbledore, honour, repeat. Dorcas thinks that they sound like characters in children’s plays reading off of lazily written scripts they don’t really have memorized. But she’ll admit, it’s just consistent enough to put her to sleep.

“Dorcas?”

“...”

“ Dorcas ?”

Oops. “Hu-hm? Yeah?”

“What’re you excited for?”

Oh, phew. She doesn’t need to think about that question. She doesn’t even need to lie. “Quidditch.”

To her credit, that really sets them off on a tangent. All of a sudden, they’re rambling to each other about the teams they cheer for and what players have been pulling what risky stunts, and Dorcas is falling back asleep. And it doesn’t matter what anyone says, if asked, she’ll say that she was pointedly not dreaming about any family members of hers, nor their reactions to how she’s sorted.

“I just… don’t know who I'm looking at. How you can possibly be my daughter. You’ve changed, Dorcas. I don’t know how me and your father can handle it. I just don’t-

*

Mary MacDonald is being quiet, like she usually is. Curled up into the corner of the carriage, while two of the kids- one in front of her and one beside her- babble about bravery and whatnot. There’s one other girl across from her diagonally, with dark skin and long locs, who’s asleep while curled up in a way that eerily parallels how she’s sitting. The cart is like a playing card, where the top half has one eccentric boy talking with his hands flailing about on the left and a tired, quiet witch on the right, with a mirrored picture flipped on the bottom half. And Mary is just sort of sitting and watching these very righteous kids and their very righteous spiels. 

“Gryffindor is just, like, objectively the best house. Bravery is so clearly the most important trait someone could have, like, what would we even be if no one was brave enough to step up and do things? How can you even be a wizard if you’re not brave? ” The mousey-brown haired boy says, the same roundabout point in the roundabout conversation they’ve been having.

“Exactly. It’s not even up for debate.” The blonde boy replies, hands in the air.

“But there are so many Gryffindors who just… don’t do what it’s supposedly in their nature to be doing. It’s a house of cowards, now. Needs people like us to bring it back.” The first one continues, voice loud with indignation. Mary tunes into the conversation a bit more. 

Blondie snorts. “Yeah. What’s up with that? It’s turned into a house of Mudbloods.”

She doesn’t like the way they spit that word. Before she can even think, the irrepressible sense of justice in Mary pipes up for her. “What’s that?”

Both boys turn to her with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. The other girl stays asleep, her breathing steady. Mary tries to focus on that. “...What?”

“What does… what mean?”

“The word you just used.” She replies, voice steady. “Mudblood.”

An awkward pause, before the blond laughs. It’s almost like a bark, and it’s sharp and pointed. The laugh has teeth. “Is there any chance your parents are muggles ?”

He puts so much emphasis on the word muggle, and the brown haired boy snorts. A cold sense of guilt shoots through Mary’s veins for a reason she can’t explain. Like she’s wrong. Like she doesn’t fit. Even in the place where she’s supposed to be normal. She almost doesn’t answer him. “...yes?”

Both boys break into unrestrained cackles, and Mary’s breath grows tight. They laugh and laugh for too long, and Mary doesn’t really know what to do with herself so she just sits and watches them. Then the brown haired guy speaks like he’s part of some sick inside joke. “You’d best hope you aren’t in Gryffindor, girl.”

*

Marlene is a bit out of her element here. She doesn’t know where to start with this. With the group in front of her.

The entire train ride so far, which has been just about seven hours, mind you, has been pointless, ridiculous banter. She gets along with the boys in the carriage just fine- well, even. Her and James have been friends since they were toddlers, and she’s known Peter for years too. And Marlene thinks that it’s pretty bloody impossible not to get along with Sirius Black. Her problem isn’t that she doesn’t enjoy her company, nor that they don’t enjoy theirs. It’s that the three of them feel like a whole other world from her. Like some kind of platonic love at first sight. Peter, James, and Sirius all get on like wildfire. They just talk and talk and talk and it’s impossible for Marlene to keep up. Which is certainly saying something, because if she’s good at anything it’s talking and talking and talking. She doesn’t really feel bored, or left out, she just feels kind of… entranced. Like she can’t tear her eyes away from the people around her. Because she can’t.

It’s like they’ve found a perfect dynamic, she thinks. James is loud and full of heart, Sirius is louder and full of snide, and Peter is quiet and eager to follow. So every conversation they’ve had so far is just so fluid. She doubts she’s ever seen James smile so big. Sirius is probably the first person Marlene has ever seen Peter look at with anything close to the admiration he looks at James with. And she just met Sirius, but given what he’s said about his family? She doubts he’s ever had a chance to laugh as much as he’s laughing now. 

“Oi! Watch it, you wankers,” She laughs, dodging a chocolate frog that Peter had opened precariously and launched across the carriage. Beside him, James is cackling as his oldest friend looks at Marlene in petrified shock. He’s always been a bit overly-anxious about how people are viewing him, she thinks. Next to her, Sirius is laughing too, and he reaches up to the wall between them to snag the frog and throw it back to the scared, mousy-haired boy across from them. 

“Jesus, Pete,” James snickers. “Easy.”

Peter gulps. “S-sorry, Marlene,”

She waves him off. “Nah, don’t worry about it.” Then she turns beside her, and looks between James and Sirius. “You two should lay off him. You’ll give him a bloody heart attack.”

Peter nods fervently. “Yes. Lay off him.”

Recovering from his rib-shaking laughter, James clears his throat, and reaches over to muss with the frog-launcher’s hair. “Maybe he should be more careful, then.”

Sirius’ reply is a snort, while Marlene doesn’t miss a beat between chuckling and saying, “Who’re you to talk about careful, Potter?”

James lets out an indignant gasp, hand clutched dramatically at his chest, and Sirius answers for him. “Yikes. She got you with that, actually. I can’t save you there.”

“You don’t exactly give off the vibe of someone who really values safe outcomes either, Black.”

This time Sirius gasps. Everyone laughs, though Peter’s is less enthused.

She does feel that something’s missing from them, though. No offence to the boys, but she feels like they need an anchor, for their own good. So that they don’t accidentally set anyone on fire. Or so that they don’t purposefully set anyone on fire. She internally cringes at the prospect of James Potter being left without supervision, because a boy who’d do anything for him and his more punk carbon copy don’t really count.

“She called you a wanker, Pettigrew, so I’ve no idea why you’re the one laughing at me.” Sirius shoots back, rolling his eyes.

“If I remember correctly, she said wanker s. That’s all of us.” Peter pipes up, and the other boys groan; prides wounded.

“ We didn’t throw food at Mar,” James sighs. “What does it take to get some proper respect here?”

“I’m pretty sure that not throwing food at someone is more of a bare minimum practice than something warranting respect,” Sirius adds, unhelpful to his own cause.

“It certainly doesn’t warrant being called a wanker, though.”

Sirius shrugs. “You’re probably a wanker for other reasons, in her defence.”

“Oi! That makes you equally wanker, then. You’re also part of this.” James shouts, laughter seeping into his voice once again.

“And I wear that title like a badge of honour.”

“Still, it’s all about context, Sirius. In this context , I did nothing wrong. I’m not guilty of anything. And therefore should not be called names.”

Peter tilts his head up, having finally gotten to finish his finicky chocolate frog. “You didn’t stop me. You’re guilty by association.”

Both boys turn to Peter, still indignant as ever. “Oi!”

And the banter goes on, and on, and on. For nine hours, the boys babble, and Marlene joins in from time to time but mostly just watches. There isn’t really a spot for her to jump in. It’s like an art, honestly; watching them weave together conversations that you’d think had no relevance to one another. Marlene isn’t upset by it. She doesn’t feel left out. She’s witnessing one of the funniest and most engaging interactions she’s ever seen; she’s having a great time. She is, however, dimly aware that there’s something like jealousy swimming through her veins. There’s a part of her that craves a connection like they have- something effortless and easy. But she doesn’t dwell on that. She’ll be at school soon, she’ll make her own best friends. So she simply watches and laughs at and sometimes joins in on the conversation in front of her. 

*

Sirius might actually explode. He might. Either his lungs will blow up from how full of laughter they are or his face will rip from how much he’s smiling. Regardless, he’s so happy. So, so happy; that the side of him that belongs to his mother is making him feel like he’s going to fall apart. 

Already, at the end of this train ride, Sirius is mourning James Potter. Because he’s the nicest, boldest, and most admirable person Sirius has ever met, and it doesn’t take a lot of effort to figure out that he’s destined for Gryffindor. And Sirius can’t be that. He knows he can’t. He has the house of Slytherin written into his genes. So he’s getting ready to have to look at this guy in the halls and lament over how badly he wants to be his friend. Oh well , he thinks. I’ll always have this train ride. 

“How in the world can you be sitting like that?” Peter asks, gesturing vaguely in Sirius’ general vicinity. Not exactly an uncalled for question, he’ll admit; he’s in some sitting/laying hybrid with his head propped half against the window and half in his hand. Even still, he scoffs sarcastically in response.

“Come on, Pettigrew. I’ve got to keep the people on their toes. Sitting normally is for conformists.”

James and Marlene laugh, causing a bloom of pride to erupt in his chest. That’s been happening a lot over the last few hours- more than it has in his whole life, he reckons. Peter continues, his voice full of genuine intrigue and concern. “You’re going to give yourself back pain at eleven years old, if you keep that up.”

James turns to him, eyebrows furrowed. “You do realize that we’re wizards and could cure whatever back pain Sirius gives himself in seconds, right?” 

Sirius chuckles, but Peter doesn’t sway. He throws his arms out into the air in a frenzy. “It’s the principal of the matter!”

“What does that even mean here?”

“That he needs to straighten out his spine before he contorts himself into a bloody pretzel!”

“I don’t think anyone said he was a pretzel, mate,” James cackled.

“And frankly, I’m insulted you’d compare me to one.” Sirius hmphs, turning away from everyone and holding out his hand before Peter in attempt to shun him.

“Oh, crap!” Marlene juts in, suddenly, and everyone whips around to her in question. “We’re like, here. At the school. Crap.” 

Crap indeed, Sirius thinks, pouting internally and preparing himself to end the most fun he’s ever had and knows he ever will. With a sigh, he answers. “Guess we’d best clean up, then.”

And that they do. Everyone picks up wrappings for all the food they ate (which James vanished cockily with a spell he’d bragged about learning), grabbed black cloaks from their bags, and threw on their new clothes. And then naturally, they turn to the window, and watch the fast approaching castle before them.

Against the deep blue evening sky, Hogwarts is a dark silhouette of towers and turrets over sharp, intimidating rocks that pop out from the lake before it. Dotting this image are hundreds of glowing gold windows, poking through the night sky like beacons, and looking to Sirius every bit as bright and mysterious as he imagines his future years at school will be. Oh, God- it’s everything. It’s everything Sirius wants it to be and he’s so, so happy. He could explode.

The only thing that isn’t bright about what he’s imagining is that he knows it can’t be with the lot in the carriage with him. He’s going to be stuck with snotty, blood-purist bigots who can’t see past their own egos, and it’s going to be torture.

Oh well, he thinks. It’s not Grimmauld.

Slowly, he hears the chugging of the train slow to silence, and the click! Of doors popping open. The train ride’s over.

He turns to the people he’s spent the last nine hours having the time of his life with. I’ll miss you, he thinks. Oh well, I’ll find other friends. But I’ll miss you. “Well, I’ll see you?”

Peter and Marlene look at him funny. James straight up snorts. “What, you think we’ll let you go that easy? You’re coming in with us.”

…

Blink.

Blink.

… What?

Before he can reboot his mind enough to stop his mouth from running, Sirius thinks out loud. “You want me with you guys?”

“What?” Peter squeaks, looking thoroughly worried. In his defense, that seems to be his natural state. “Why would you think that?’

“Course we want you with us,” Marlene adds, blond brows knit together. 

“You're our friend!” James exclaims surely. Too surely, in Sirius’ opinion. He throws an arm around the boy’s shoulders with a blinding, sun-bright smile. “Besides, I’ve got so many ideas for ways to get at the wanker students that involve you. There’s no escaping us here.”

There are whole entire tears prickling Sirius’ eyes. They… want him with them?

Oh well. They won’t for long.

“Thank y-”

“Weren’t we the wankers? Are you going to be pranking us?” Peter interrupts, raising a joking eyebrow at James.

“Oh, shut it,” James answers, and even though his words are some that Sirius has never heard used lightly, the way James says them makes them weightless. Sirius wants to analyze it. Wants to embody it.

“You’re bloody marauders, you are.” Marlene scoffs, walking out the door with a mocking eye roll. Sirius hums in acknowledgement. 

“She might not be too far off with that.”

“So we’re the three marauders, then?” Peter breathes, sounding exhausted. “How brilliant. Just got here and we’re already labelled as bloody scoundrels?”

“Three is such an ugly number, though. No fun there. There’s always an odd one out” Sirius says. Peter groans.

“You’re impossible,”

James gasps an honest and thrilled gasp. “Hey! If we have four roommates, we could all be together with another guy and become best friends with him. Four marauders.”

Lovely idea. Only I can’t be your roommate. Oh well. There’ll be an even more admirable bloke in my place.

“Good plan, that.” He grins. 

With James and Peter bickering behind him, Sirius steps off the Hogwarts Express, finding his feet on the grounds of the first place he’s ever seen as home.