Rebel, rebel!

The smell of chicken, soup, and fresh bread that’s floating through the air has quickly turned from the nicest thing it could possibly be to deeply, deeply nauseating. Sirius thinks so, at least. He feels like he’s about to burst into hysterics and promptly throw up. He’s never been so scared. He’s never, ever been so scared; and he has a mother whose name makes people flinch. Actually, that’s exactly why he’s so scared. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. This day, almost twelve years after his birth, is the point where his heart will stop and he is going to die. 

“Y’okay, mate?” James calls out to him, the food in his mouth garbling his words. What he says just sort of rings around distantly in Sirius’ ears, and his brain moves to the autopilot it always does when Regulus seems worried about him. He slashes a smirk through his face and forces a barked laugh through his throat. 

“‘Course I am,” His eyes crinkled with a smile, but anyone who saw him then would say it looked artificial. He gestures vaguely across from him to Slytherin’s table. “I’m as far away from them as I can possibly be. I’m thriving.” 

“You sure? You don’t look very… thrive-y,” Peter pipes up. Sirius internally jumps. It feels like an interrogation. Like when his mom would sit him down and pry her magic, sharp and cold as her manicured nails, into the cracks of his brain where he’d hide every feeling but anger.

Sirius isn’t really used to the kind of care that these two have to offer him. It’s blunt, and he’s never been cared for bluntly. Of course he isn’t aware of this, but it’s basically written into his gene code. It’s so integral to his being that it can’t be glossed over by any writer, historian, or random person who tries to tell his story.

“‘M fine.” Sirius nods, curt and quick, before dropping his face down at his plate, determined to drop the subject with it.

God, they’re going to kill him.

*

All around the table, there are eyes boring into her. They aren’t subtle. Then again, the unchecked assholes ruling Slytherin have never been ones for subtlety. Even still, Narcissa Black stares across the hall to a certain banner fluttering from the ceiling in flashes of gold and red. 

God, they’re going to kill him.

“This is what he gets, for being so out of line,” Lucius grumbles beside her, stabbing at his food angrily with a fork. “That blood-traitor, the fucking-”

“Hush, Lucius,” She sneers, teeth bared; and Lucius' head snaps up to defend his self-righteous honour. Narcissa reckons that the only possible reasons he doesn’t fall over with whiplash from moving so fast are that he’s very practiced in repressing his reactions, or is too angry to let the feeling hit him. Before the ‘How DARE you’ she’s expecting can be thrown at her, she whisper-hisses at his face with a finger raised, as she would to a dog jumping up to snatch her food.  “Not. Here.” 

He opens his mouth indignantly, stringy blonde hair hanging in his eyes, but Narcissa pointedly shoots her glare around to all the people who are eyeing them and whispering. Finally taking the hint, he crosses his arms and shuts up, looking back at his dish and away from her.

Ah, she thinks. A breath of fresh air. 

Finally done with the shitheel her parents want her to marry, she turns back to the Gryffindor table and starts staring at it again.

Lucius has a bit of a point, she admits, looking across the room at the slouched back and long hair that belongs to her cousin. 

He did bring this upon himself. 

She turns to her bowl, stabs a spoon into her soup, and eats daintily with a faux-oblivious expression; all while Slytherin house is whispering about what the noble and most ancient house of Black will do to little Sirius once they find out.

*

The sounds of the great hall are spiraling around her, whirring in her ears and spinning through her head, and Marlene is practically singing about it. This is her place. 

“Good god, you need to breathe,” In front of where she’s eating, a bright and strong voice laughs. She snaps her head up to a big smile and brown eyes and a head of shoulder-length black curls.

Marlene, shameless as anything, shrugs. “It’s good food.”

“And, shocker, I know- it’ll still be there if you take a pause between bites.”

With a fake gasp and dramatic hand to her chest, Marlene pulls her head back from the table in mock offense. “For shame! This is outrageous! You’re not my mother, you can’t be talking to me about–”, a shiver, “Manners.”

The dark haired girl laughs again, and then she held out her hand. “You seem unique. That’s what I’m looking for. Hi. I’m Mary.”

Marlene grins, shaking the outstretched hand. Mary’s nails are somehow this shiny and opaque light pink and it makes Marlene wonder what kind of spell could give you pink nails, and if it could do it in red. “You’re an excellent judge of character. I’m one of a kind. My name’s Marlene.”

Mary cocked a brow. “Oh, I’m sure you’re just as special as you say.”

She beamed, fanning her face. “Flatterer.”

Oh hell yeah. This is her place.

*

 All Severus can see is red. Both because he’s so angry he could cry and that he’s staring at the back of Lily’s head across the room. Which is very corny, but eleven year olds don’t really have a grasp on that. So he’s angry and loves his friend. Sue him.

“Wonder who our roommates’ll be,” mumbles some boy, with pale skin and slick hair like his. Its colour is a dark brown and he’s significantly taller. His face is also plastered in a dopey grin, paired with a garnish of the soup he’d yet to clean from his mouth. The boy he’s talking to is just as tall and pale, but his hair is bleached blond and stringy. His build is fuller, like he plays a lot of sports. They don’t really look like Severus’ lot. Or act like his lot, based off how they’re laughing mindlessly at the idea of pulling pranks to start the year. He nearly scoffs out loud; you’re at a wizard school, and that’s how you want to waste your time?

If Lily were here, she’d agree with him.

She’s finally going to be near him every day, in the very same school; and she’s still so far.

“Hey, mate,” says the one with brown hair. He’s talking with his mouth full and Severus is tempted to scowl at him.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Black hair. Green eyes. Perma-scowl. What’s your name?”

Oh, they are so far from his kind of people. 

…But right now, Lily’s farther.

“Severus Snape. You are?”

He grins lazily. “Bartholomew Mulciber. And this is my friend, Cornelius Avery.”

Whoever named these guys really hated them. Yeesh.

Severus purses his lips in that I don’t really care but need to acknowledge what you just said kind of way. “Pleasure.”

And they’re back to droning about something pointless and time-wasting, and Severus is back to staring at Lily. Which, he’ll eventually learn, is probably just as pointless.

*

Being a scarred-up werewolf, Remus was never really allowed friends. In some ways, he’s grateful for that. There’s no one to stare at him the way everyone is staring at him now. There are so many eyes on him, and an almost laughable number of people whispering. As if seeing him and gawking is some new and novel thing no one's thought to do before. The way he looks isn’t exactly quiet, why is everyone trying to be quiet about it? Besides, it’s not like he can’t see them. Despite their efforts, all these people are just as blaring as Remus is. He can see them shushing each other, pointing, laughing by accident and then clamping hands over their mouths. He can see it, thank you very much, because it’s coming from everyone. Everyone, everyone, everyone.

Everyone except Lily Evans, who’s made it her personal mission to talk to him about quite literally every topic she can. She’s just as infatuated with this place as he is, and has just as many questions. Which is nice, he thinks. He won’t be the only one who’s lost in how mesmerized he is for the first little while he’s here. 

“How do you suppose they get the ceiling like that, Remus? With all the stars and the clouds– I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blue quite that jewel-toned before. It’s gorgeous. Is it a spell? Like– a hologram type of thing? Or a mirage? Or is whatever wizard-brick it’s made of just like that?”

“It’s-uh, it’s a spell.”

Her bright green eyes snap down from the ceiling to face Remus and he unconsciously flinches a bit. She doesn’t seem to notice though, just smiles in anticipation. Like she wants to drink up every fact there is about this place. He doesn’t blame her. “What kind of spell?”

“The ceiling’s, like, enchanted. So that it looks like whatever the sky looks like. It’ll change depending on weather and time and all that. If that, uhm, makes sense. Yeah.”

Remus cringes at himself, because wow that was awkward, and he was choking on his words so bad it sounded like he wasn’t breathing, but oh. Lily’s face lights right up, and her hands clasp together. “Oh my God. That’s insane. I could die here. How is this real. Oh my God.”

Remus nearly laughs. “Yeah. Me too.”

Well, he thinks. That was probably kind of terrible.cBut maybe it’s working?

He’s never had someone his age to talk to. At least not since he was four, but that doesn’t really count because four year olds don’t really talk. He’s abysmally socialized and doesn’t know what he’s doing.

But he finally has someone to talk to. 

“How do you know all this? It’s like- oh, sorry, ‘course. Your  Dad’s a wizard. Haha!”

“Oh. I didn’t learn anything from him, really. Only that it exists and needs a wand, I guess. I just read a lot.”

Lily laughs. She has a very bright laugh. She seems to be a very bright person. “I wouldn’t even know where to start with that.”

Finally has someone to talk to.

“Oh! Uh- I could help? If you want, I mean. I can show you what I started with and all that stuff. Sorry, maybe that’s weird, you don’t really know me-”

“Oh my gosh, Remus Lupin, would you really?”

-Finally. Has someone to talk to.

For the first time that day, he properly smiles. “Uhm- yeah. ‘Course.”

She smiles back. “You’re already a great friend, Remus.”

Friend. Friend friend friend.

“So are you.” 

Lord above, Remus Lupin has a friend.

*

“-And you’ll all follow the head boys and girls of your respective houses to be shown to your common rooms and beds. I trust that you’ve found your dinner enjoyable, and that you’ll see the rest of your year in a similar light. Thank you all, and welcome to Hogwarts!”

Everyone, but particularly the kids in older years, burst into a thunderous applause for the bearded wizard. Dumbledore sets awe into all their eyes and drive into their hearts, just by giving them a good night toast. That, along with the whole of the building he’s in, is horrifying to Peter. And not in a good way, like it apparently should be, because he’s supposed to be brave; but in a bad let-me-hang-out-with-my-friend-without-this-bougie-over-exaggerated-loud-stuff kind of way. Everything is big and intimidating and he really wants to curl in on himself. 

But James seems to be really enjoying it. 

Which is bugging him, if he’s being honest.

“Alright, kids– Oh my god, look at you all!” A boy, who really couldn’t have been much older than them, smiles their way. He’s standing behind Sirius and Marlene, so they have to crane their necks, and facing towards Peter, James, and some girl who Mar had started chatting with. His hand is on his chest as if his feelings need to be contained there and his eyes are bright with something close to pride. Which Peter thinks is weird, given he doesn’t know them. “So young. So full of potential and wonder. Truly, an incredible sight. So inspiring. I’m so lucky to be in front of you.”

“Oh, cram it Longbottom. Stop pulling their legs.” Suddenly, behind Peter and his group, is a girl with bangs and short brown hair. She looked strong and muscular, but about the same age as the other guy. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she turns from the boy she’d called Longbottom to the new first years in front of her. “I am terribly sorry about him. I don’t really know why he does this. We’re only third years, not grandparents.”

“Oh, fuck off, Ali-”

“Ah-ah-ah! Nope! No swearing in front of their innocent little kid ears! You’re supposed to be a role model, Frank! For shame! Shame!”

Across from Peter, Marlene mumbles a defiant I know swears; and the boy, Frank, shrugs at the girl standing behind them. “Whatever. Sure. I’m Frank Longbottom, and that’s Alice McLoserface-”

“Prewett. I’m Alice Prewett.”

 “Sure. We’ve been sent to keep an eye on this section of you little guys while we walk upstairs.”

“Are we allowed to ask you questions? About the school and stuff?” The girl Marlene had been talking to inquires.

“‘Course you are! I wouldn’t ask him, though. He’ll probably answer his own name wrong.”

“Oi! I’ll have you know that I’m quite proficient in the memory department.”

“Are you?” Alice tilts her head. “Strange. I do recall you managing to call me by your own name, just now, when you introduced us to these kids. Careful, McLoserface, they might think we’re married at the age of thirteen.”

Frank scoffed and turned his head down, but his cheeks were a bright pink. “Tsk. You wish.”

Ugh. These guys are snarky. And it’s in the same way James is, but it’s not James doing it, so Peter just kind of wants to sleep.

He turns to James like he always does when he gets bored. In fact, back home, every time he did this, his friend was looking back with an identical exhausted expression. He always hated the lavish parties their parents dragged them to, and talking to people he didn’t already like was something that James Potter just didn’t bother with. But now, Peter’s facing his best friend, tired and ready to listen to music and escape from everything he’s finding annoying, but James isn’t bored.

Peter doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so excited.

His brown eyes are all glow-y, and his mouth is parted in this awestruck pose he doesn’t think James even realizes is a smile. He’s infatuated. Peter is exhausted and wants to make jokes with his best friend, and for the first time since he’s known Peter, James doesn’t.

And pettily, for the first time since he’s known James, Peter feels just as distant as he has everywhere else.

*

The Gryffindor head boy is some tall and lanky seventh year. He’s explaining everything with passion and fervour, like the walls are made of gold and the tables of ruby, and Lily finds herself relating to him on a spiritual level. She’s just sort of gawking at everything and pointing it out to Remus, even when they haven’t left the great hall yet. And they’re still in the hall, at the entrance where all the houses are starting to merge, when she hears it for the first time. 

I’m so glad we’re not in, like, Hufflepuff or some crap. It’s all Mudbloods, at this point, I swear. Wouldn’t be able to get anything done, they’re all miles behind us.

It’s some Slytherin girl, with sharp liner on her eyes and dark brown hair. She’s whispering to another girl with a pixie cut who’s laughing dryly. Like she finds it funny, but doesn’t have enough of an actual personality to really care about the joke. Lily’s head tilts.

“D’you know what that means?”

Remus’ eyes snap up. He’d been looking very pointedly at any spot that didn’t have a person standing in it. “Hm?”

“That girl. She said, uh, something about Hufflepuff being full of… Mudbloods? What’s-”

“Did she call you that?” 

Lily’s mouth snapped shut. Remus’ eyes had blown all wide and he was looking at the girls she’d pointed out with furrowed brows. “No. Just said it. I’m not Hufflepuff, that was literally just established.” She laughs, trying to lighten the mood, but his expression doesn’t change. As they finally step out of the Great Hall and turn down the corridor, Remus looks caught between angry and sick. “Remus? What’s Mudblood mean?”

“It’s… it’s something quite… derogatory,” Remus says, sort of whispering, and then Lily starts thinking oh crap, what wizard oppression did I just repeat, before Remus continues and answers that for her. “Some wizards have this, uh, weird obsession with something they call blood purity. A pureblood family– that’s a family of all wizards, straight back to the beginning of magic’s existence. Which can get pretty messy actually, because there are very few totally pureblooded wizards left, and most of them are related on like, a first-cousin basis, and then they end up marrying each other over and over, and it’s just a lot of- anyways. That’s not the point. But most wizards don’t care about that as much as some, because most wizards have some muggle blood, but people reserve… that word, typically, for half-bloods and muggle borns. Means our blood is-”

“Muddy?”

Remus winces. “Yeah. Muddy.”

Lily takes a deep breath. She remembers punching that guy, Matt was his name, flat in the nose when she was nine.

Just give us back the ball, Evans. You're a girl. You can’t play our game, you’re miles behind us.

Crunch.

Okay. So the wizard oppression she was repeating was against herself. Noted.

“Uh, are you okay, Lily?”

Oh, I’ll be okay. If I run straight back and break that girl’s nose like I did Matt’s. 

Crunch. 

Nope! Nope nope nope. Nopers. No thank you. Nope.

I just got here.

She wanted a fresh start. A new beginning. Where she wasn’t too big or too loud to have friends. 

Slytherin girl and her friend are turning the corner.

Lily breathes. She thinks her hands are shaking. Balled in fists for sure. But she lets them turn. And she takes a breath. It doesn’t slow her heartbeat, at all, but she does it anyways.

She smiles.

“I’m just fine. I’m at the coolest school in the world. People are proper annoying though, aren’t they?”

Remus stays quiet for a second, looking worried, but eventually he relents with a sigh. “Absolutely. Proper annoying for sure.”

And she walks slowly, in a mostly uncomfortable silence with Remus, all the way until the common room.

*

Oh, Dorcas hates this. She hates this so much.

She’s ambitious. Definitely resourceful. Very, very determined. Clever for sure. She’s had her moments of cunning. She should have been more ready for this than she was. But she wasn’t. And now, in this room full of people, she’s all alone.

Slytherin common room is… very nice, actually. She’s never seen anything quite like it; the flames in the fireplace burn a lime green, and the whole place smells like fresh-cut wood and rain. There are black leather chairs, couches and stools; and every accent colour was either a rich brown wood varnish or a deep green velvet. The walls are dark grey cobblestone, and in the two far corners are steps leading up to archways, one labeled ‘BOYS’ and one labeled ‘GIRLS’. It’s chilly in a way that makes you want to grab a blanket and curl up with a book and hot cocoa. Which is, admittedly, her whole vibe.

What is not her vibe, is the angry letter she’s already anxious about. She’d much rather be in a too warm and too bright Gryffindor common room, with her parents talking about how proud they are; than be in this nice room with her parents wailing about how they don’t understand. God.

Even more than that letter, she’s thinking about the other Slytherin kids in her year.

She wants to leave.

“Alright next… Dorcas Meadowes?”

“Here.”

“Meadowes… is that the same Meadowes I’m thinking it is?”

Slytherin’s head boy is called Lucius Malfoy. He’s very tall with platinum hair that just touches his shoulders, and Dorcas has noticed that he’s only ever scowling or smirking. He’s in his sixth year. He’s supposed to be a model student.

“I don’t know any other Meadowes family, Malfoy.”

He nearly snarls, and Dorcas fights the urge to raise an eyebrow. “I’m in charge here. You’re all to call me sir.”

“Alright, I don’t know any other Meadowes family, Sir.” 

He huffs. “You live up to them, then. Annoying and arrogant? Your parents are picture-perfect little Gryffindors, are they not?”

People are snickering all around her. She’s very proud when her words don’t come out choked. “Yes they are, Sir.”

“Hm. Why do you think you’re here then?” He gives a faux pout. “Sorting hat mix up?”

Dorcas feels her shoulders steel. “ I’m not my parents.”

He snorts without humour. “Clearly. How do you think they’ll react to their only heir being such a deviant? Will they yell? Will they cry? Oh, heaven forbid, will they disown you?”

Nearly everyone, including Lucius, is laughing dryly. Dorcas stays very still until some guy beside Malfoy speaks.

“Probably the same way that Walburga and Orion will react when they hear about their eldest is some kind of bloody… bloody blood traitor.”

Lucius sneers, and opens his mouth to speak. But a girl from the couch speaks for him. “That’s enough, Lucius.”

He turns to a lady on the couch, who looks roughly his age, with straight hair long enough that it’s far passing her shoulders. It’s coloured black and white, and her skin is strikingly pale in the green light. She’s slim, and sits with her legs crossed underneath the book she’s reading. She’s very pretty, as well as almost… haunting. `

Lucius sighs. “At least you’re the right kind of blood traitor, Meadowes. Your room is up in the girls section, third door on your left. Welcome to Slytherin.”

He continues to call on, belittle, and then send off the new first years.

She thinks it’s fitting that Slytherin is in the dungeons. Because this is going to be her prison for the next seven years.