The Bewlay Brothers

January 3rd, 1972

Regulus wasn’t allowed to see Sirius off at the train. Not after the incident, or the healing potion Sirius had so foolishly placed—in plain sight, mind you— on his younger brother’s table. The boy had begged mother to relent, to allow him to see the big red train depart and perhaps to savour his last moments with his older brother for many months to come. But of course, she only scowled at his wet cheeks and blunt display of emotions in the living room. In those moments,—to his horror—he wished for nothing more than to reach Hogwarts, for the monster lurking inside him to finally let him go.  He knew it was cruel to wish to leave his brother in the very moments the young boy was clutching at his robes, begging. 

Nevertheless, the crying boy was yanked away and the world began whirling away before his eyes. So with the vain promise of many letters and perhaps a treacle tart, he departed for the train station. Making sure to keep his posture—every season he was getting better at apparitions, as much as he wanted to hurl—he walked towards the station and his lips spread into a small smile as he felt the monster slip into a far away home in his mind, not to return for long months ahead.

But as Sirius boarded the grand red train with his trunk in hand, a new type of dread came over him. Over the vacation, he’d ruined his birthday present. According to Regulus, the small jar full of mushy liquid was shattered by his mother’s heel as soon as she’d stomped into his room. He’d tried not to think of the million pieces scattered on the floor, or the long, thin cuts that streaked his younger brother’s skin. Later, when the stuff had dried and all that was left was grass, Regulus, that fool, began to pick up the pieces with his own bare hands—’Kreacher can’t do it! He’ll get hurt!’. 

He tried not to think of the blood on his arm and Looney's face when Sirius told him that his present had gone to waste because of his own foolishness. His stomach churned at the thought. 

“Sirius!” the olive-skinned boy called with his signature grin shining as bright as the sun on his face.

He mustered a smile as he came closer, trying not to gasp as James handed him a sandwich. Sirius knew it was something small and insignificant, but he couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest as he handed it to him with that smile of his like it was second nature, like he hadn’t known anything else. 

He took a bite. “Mum made it.”

It was almost better than the first time he’d tasted it. It melted on his tongue better than any lobster, and it was no doubt his new favourite food. “The Dahi sandwich?”

James grinned. “My favourite.”

The olive skinned boy took another bite. “Still reading, are you, Loony?”

“S’ a good book,” he defended. It was strange how his accent always came back after a few weeks away.

“Nerd,” James teased. “I reckon we can turn him to the darkside by the end of this year can’t we, Sirius?”

He just hummed. As he munched on the frankly godly sandwich, he desperately tried to stop thinking about the boy beside him. The strange boy sat beside him, devouring a thick book of old parchment and stains.

Remus huffed. “I’ll swim with the great squid before I give up my books.”

James raised a brow. “You’d be surprised what we can arrange given the right motivations.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, Loony. You better watch out.”

He didn’t look up from his book. “I’ll sleep with one eye open, thanks.”

Huffing at the boy’s sarcasm, he huddled with Peter, whispering something indecipherable under their breaths. “C’mon, Sirius, we’ve got to come up with a plan to switch Loony.”

“Yeah, sure, James.”

“Sirius,” James whispered to him.

“What?”

“Did you fight with Loony?” 

“No,” he answered immediately. “Why?”

“Oh,” he said. “Just seemed off, is all.”

 For the rest of the ride he allowed himself to be carried away with talk of quidditch and magazines and candy. For the most part it was easy to ignore Loony, as he was often very quiet. But Sirius was annoyed to find that his peculiar silence was often what made him most intriguing. Sirius always found himself wanting to ask about the book he was reading or his summer or Kira or if he had any new prank ideas.

But always his stomach dropped as he remembered his own summer, and the jar that laid shattered on the floor of his brother’s room. And then the strange boy caught his eye. Blank eyes and an eyebrow raised in question. He quickly looked away. Remus didn’t say anything else after that.

Even as they followed Professor Mcgonagall through the jagged rocks leading up to the castle, Loony strayed behind with Peter, as if he knew—though it could also be chalked up to the fact that Remus hated the noise. Either way, Sirius was thankful.

 James told him about the latest quidditch games and his summer and the fantastic holiday he had and soon he found himself smiling that big grin he always found himself wearing when he spoke to James.

But as they reached the Great Hall for dinner, he couldn’t help his eyes straying over to the strange boy. As always, Loony ate like a starving man. He piled up second servings onto his plate until he was sure they would overflow, and he was the first to leave for the dormitories after dinner.

“Do you think he’ll disappear again?” Peter asked as the boy’s steps faded into the distance.

“I don’t know.”

“I hope not.” Peter took a bite of a chicken wing. “He’s always in a mood when he comes back.”

When they entered the dormitories, Remus was missing, not even his trunk in its rightful place as his four-poster.

James gave him a dejected look. “Guess he’s gone again.”

The blond haired boy just rolled his eyes. “Of course he is.”

Sirius’s gaze shot over to Peter. “What do you mean?”

“He was always kind of weird, I guess,” he said. “Always disappearing, sometimes for full days, always snappy when he comes back.”

Rage stabbed at his chest. “What are you on about, Pettingrew?”

He deflated a little. “I’m just saying, don’t we deserve an explanation for all this? We're the ones getting snapped at all the time, after all.”

“I guess he might be a little strange,” Sirius amended. “But he’s our friend now.”

“You gotta admit there’s something wrong with him though,” the boy said as he propped his new books open on the table. 

“Everyone is flawed,” James countered.

“He’s just, I think it’s something else. There’s just something wrong about him. I know it.”

To their surprise, Remus, in fact, hadn’t disappeared. Only an hour later, as Sirius squinted over a particularly challenging game of wizard chess, he walked into the common room with his trunk in hand.

“Loony!” The olive skinned boy called. “Where have you been?”

Peter smiled. “We were starting to think you’d disappeared again.”

“Just got caught up with Professor Mcgonagall,” he said, if a bit wearily. “I asked her a few questions about the books.”

James cackled. “Nerd.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “You’re the one with glasses.”

“Excuse me?” he exclaimed. “Just because I have glasses doesn’t mean I’m nerdy!”

“Yeah it does,” Sirius said.

“I can’t believe this!” James shot him a betrayed look. “I thought you were on my side!”

He shrugged. “Can’t help what’s true.”

“Erm, Loony, help me out with this,” James called.

“That’s not fair,” Sirius exclaimed. “You can’t call Loony!”

James smirked. “I believe I just did.”

He gasped. “Bastard.”

The strange boy had to crouch down to James’ level as he peered over at the chess board and Sirius tried his best not to look at him.

“You’ll owe me some damn good chocolate, you know.”

James grinned. “I know.”

With Loony by his side, the match was won and his king was torn to shreds, and Sirius was pouting but harbouring a warm feeling inside he’d almost forgotten he could feel. Finally, after what felt like forever he could sleep in his warm-toned four-poster with the comforting lull of light chatter luring him to sleep. But apparently sleep had other plans because Sirius was left awake and sprawled across his bed, waiting for the morning to come.

Because it was in the nights that the monster was the strongest; when there was no loud laughter or bustling of a crowd in the common room. It was just quiet enough for the monster to whisper in his ears and just dark enough to paint illusions of black brick walls and empty shrieks. Only a steady bustling kept him there, tucked in the red blankets and not the black ones. Someone furrowing out of bed; the trace of a wand light peeking through the cracks in his curtain. It was then he decided that the itching in his poorly bandaged arm was painful enough as he lay down on it and that the monster on his lungs was just too tight and he just needed the light. Yes, that was what he needed.

So he aroused from the covers and crept over to the common room, dark except for the fire blazing a warm light. A silhouette sat on the maroon couch and for a moment Sirius was sure he saw Regulus’s hollow cheeks and sullen eyes staring back at him.

His heart hammered in his chest. “James?” 

“Why are you ignoring me?” the shadow asked. Loony looked up at him with those bright hazel eyes; an emotion Sirius couldn’t quite recognize coming over him.

“I’m not ignoring you,” he lied.

He looked back at the thing in his lap. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Look Loony- I’m sorry, alright?”

He scoffed. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I- I ruined your birthday present, okay?” His voice was louder than he’d intended, just short of echoing off the stone walls.  “I know it’s stupid, but I ruined it, and I didn’t know what to tell you.”

The boy blinked and all traces of the scoff from before disappeared from his face. “You mean the jar?”

Sirius averted his gaze. “I ruined it.”

The strange boy shook his head, a sound between a scoff and a laugh slipping his lips. 

He scowled. “What is it?”

He shook his head again. “No I just thought- Is that why you’re injured?”

“How do you always know?”

A trace of a smile graced his lips. “I told you, a magician never reveals his secrets.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sirius, it’s not a big deal,” he insisted.

A beat passed.  “It wasn’t much of a present anyway,” Remus mumbled.

“Loony-”

“Are you going to let me heal you or not?”

He nodded eagerly. The pain in his arm had been steadily growing ever since he’d left Grimmauld; a bitter reminder of  the monster he was so eager to escape. The balm was cold as an iceberg as it brushed his bruises, and Sirius had to grit his teeth against a flinch. But he found himself holding back a gasp instead as the bruises staining his skin grew invisible upon touch with the salve, with all that’s left being memory.

“Better?” he asked.

“Loads.” Sirius found himself grinning. “That stuff is wicked, you know.”

“I know.” He smiled, but something in the boy’s eyes told him that he knew deeper cuts than a scrape; lived through harsher bruises than what could be fixed with a mere salve.

“So, any new prank ideas in that brilliant mind of yours?” Sirius found himself asking.

He shrugged. “Not really a reason to prank anyone, is there?”

He feigned a scoff. “There’s always a reason to prank someone if you look hard enough.”

“James is rubbing off on you,” he complained.

Sirius beamed. He loved being compared to the olive-skinned boy. It gave him a warm feeling; made him feel as if he too had spent his life surrounded by beautiful things like quidditch and smiles. As if he didn’t carry a shadow in his step. As if he carried himself as lightly as James did, warmth instead of cold behind his winning smile.

“That isn’t a good thing.” Remus rolled his eyes, but the twinge of his lips told him it was all in good humour. “We don’t need any more James’s  around here.”

“You act like you aren’t worse than all of us combined.”

“Rude.” He laughed as he screwed the top onto the glass jar. Once all of his wounds were gone, the strange boy handed him the jar. “Here.”

“I don’t need this anymore. You know that.”

He shrugged. “Just in case.”

With that, he left. In later years he would acknowledge just how much he admired the boy’s ability to leave a room with such impact. Perhaps it was his height, or just a part of his strange charm, but whenever he left a room it was profoundly felt by Sirius, with his presence lingering in the room like a shadow strewn upon the bathroom floor.