Family is overrated
Tuesday 10th August 1971
The flat had only two bedrooms yet housed far more than two bodies; in the bathroom, living room, and kitchen. But Remus woke up to find himself tucked in bed, with no other body around. The closest were a pair of bare legs belonging to someone passed out on the floor.
Like every other summer night in the flat, there were two mechanical plastic fans on in most rooms, meaning Remus had slept with no shirt, letting the sweat fall down his bony frame. The fresh new silver lines aligned his back, stinging from the wind. After the house party of the night before, they stung even more than usual.
Remus groaned at the morning light shining through the window blinds. He’d apparently fallen asleep in the middle of one of the many haircuts people asked him for, as the scissors were laying by his feet with an armful of blonde hair. Not a new sight, sadly. He picked up his shirt from off the floor— or from the neck of a passed-out drunk who’d been wearing it like a collar the whole night and fit it on.
“G’morning, lil wizard man.” Remus was greeted when he stumbled out of the bedroom after stepping on approximately five different people. Kash stands leaning against the wall across from the bedroom door, a coffee in hand.
“Mornin’” Mumbled Remus. Kash was a muggle. Everyone other than Remus in that house was a muggle at least to what he knew. Yet many people knew he was a wizard because some people had known him for over half his life and four-year-olds were never really best at keeping secrets.
Kash and Remus hadn’t known each other for particularly long, though, only a year or so, but as a close friend of Maddy, he was around enough to be told the truth. Maddy— 19, will eat you alive, —and Remus had known each other the longest, having been born as neighbors and Maddy being a squib. He never did fancy the idea of magic so there was no big jealousy like you’d think. Though being jealous of an eleven-year-old really was not something many people would be.
“Maddy?” Remus asked while wandering through another set of bodies.
Kash shrugged, taking a sip from the cup in hand, “know how he is, either fuckin’ or dealin’. Far early for the second.”
“‘Course.” Remus muttered, “Tell ‘im got sumwhere to be, won’t be back.” His father had told him he’d have a visitor today and visits in the Lupin household were rare enough that Remus felt like he had to be there.
“Got it,” Kash nodded, eyeing the new limp Remus had gotten on his leg from the full moon three days prior. “Need a ride?” he asked, not looking away from the limp making it very clear why he was asking.
Remus shook his head, “‘m good, thanks.” He lived twenty minutes by foot after Maddy had moved. Got him a reason to be gone longer so he never did complain.
Kash raised his mug as Remus opened the door to leave, “cheers, lil wiz.”
“Cheers,” Remus called back.
And then he left.
The bums of west London weren’t exactly the prettiest place for an eleven-year-old to spend his summer days but they were also the most comfortable place Remus knew. The apartment complex he stepped out of was almost falling apart as were multiple other buildings in the area, completely different from his own neighborhood. The grassland and the few gardens around were all a withering mess, especially during the dryness of summer, the shops around were all closed off until the owners felt like opening the stores which was rarely in the early mornings.
It was a very clear change from bums over to the middle-class neighborhoods. The buildings were standing strong in all different colors, the grass was as green as it could come, and the streets were as bustling as always.
The loudness of it all made Remus’ head throb— nothing new, after a house party. They always played the music so it could be heard even two kilometers ahead, the glass beer bottles were thrown against the walls, breaking, whenever they were empty, and mostly everyone was screaming something. Remus never was allowed to drink or smoke (suppose there was still something in Maddy that was responsible), but that never stopped him from feeling as high as everyone else did.
The parties never really had been a thing until two years ago— back then they had been only small gatherings between ten or so people and now, triple that and parties most days. It had started as a coping mechanism when AJ had left who knows where and never came back, they were thrown at least twice a week for a bit and then most of the guests had always come and asked when the next one would be held so the parties never did stop. Remus didn’t mind. He liked seeing his old friends happy like that and they distracted him enough.
AJ had been a close friend. The closest age a friend had been to Remus, being only a year and a half older, meaning the two had gotten along great. Well, Remus thought they had but clearly, he’d been wrong with AJ leaving without a word or even a note. He was an orphan, too, so there was no way it had something to do with family. And from what Remus knew, he’d lived with Jaz (Maddy's younger sister) from age two and up, meaning he’d been around even longer than Remus had and Jaz was a piss of an actor and she’d cried for days after. The parties were actually Maddy's idea in hopes of making her feel better. It either worked or Jaz had become a master actor without anyone knowing.
It took longer than usual for Remus to get home since he walked as slowly as he possibly could, adding at least fifteen minutes to the normal twenty. And even longer when he noticed a familiar face coming up, entering out of a boutique.
“Oi, Mads!” Called Remus, getting Maddy to look around until he noticed the small boy approaching.
Maddy grinned from ear to ear, saluting with his hand which was carrying multiple bags from different outlets around, at least three in each hand. “Yo yo, Boom boom,” He laughed at Remus who scrunched up his nose in disgust at the nickname.
Maddy was 6 '2 but some days seemed like 4' 11, he had a grown-out red-brown mullet and bangs that were held up by his red heart-shaped sunglasses that had found their home on his forehead. He also had blue eye shadow, eyeliner, and lips as red as cherry, all this was accompanied by his light green dress that was full of pink flowers and the kind. He was the only man Remus knew who wasn’t afraid to dress like he did even with the judging stares he got everywhere he went, and growing up mostly raised by a person like that, Remus had soon stopped caring how people saw him too.
“Goin’ home?” Asked Maddy, moving his sunglasses over his eyes.
Remus rolled his eyes, “Oh, no, goin’ to teh white hart,” Maddy looked at him, amused, “Ye’, visitor at home, dad wan’ed meh home first thin’ in the mornin’”
“S’already one,” Maddy looked at the brown watch that decorated his wrist.
“Well, he ain’t say what time in the mornin’ and I jus’ woke up.”
“S’pose that true.”
“It is.”
“Tell ‘im I say hi,”
Remus looked at him like he’d just lost his mind, “He gon’ murder both o’us if he knew I still hang out with yeh lot.”
Maddy shrugged, a breathy laugh escaping his lips, “that true too.” He nodded his head in agreement and laughed again as Remus flipped the bird at the two passersby who weren’t at all even trying to hide the fact that they were whispering something about them. Both of them turned red and shuffled by them, almost running.
“Well, Boom Boom, hope to see yeh ‘round.”
Remus sighed, “I’ll come if the visit ain’t that long.”
Maddy ruffled his sandy brown hair, he always did instead of saying goodbye. AJ was also to blame for that because when Maddy said goodbye to him, they never saw him again. And now, too scared that anyone else would also leave he stayed quiet while they parted ways.
And then Remus was back on his way home, this time letting himself walk as fast as he pleased, ending up in front of his house door in less than five minutes.
Remus groaned internally as he placed his hand on the golden-colored door handle but stopped long before he could press it down. He had always had a strong sense of smell (well, since he got bitten by a werewolf) and recognized most people who came around the house scents, and there were only a few who really were interested in visiting Lyall Lupin in his 24/7 state of drunkenness. Hope Lupin never did bring anyone for visits so the visitor might have been someone from her circle though that was very unlikely with Hope’s scent being faded enough for Remus to tell she’d gone to work hours earlier.
His father was still there, he rarely did leave the house anyway though, and not being able to stop his curiosity, Remus pressed down the handle and walked through the door. He was immediately greeted by his father and this was not a sight he ever remembered seeing; Lyall Lupin in a suit.
Remus gawked at his father, he seemed bloody sober. Well, that was a first.
“Father,” Remus greeted him with a nod, eyes wandering behind him and into the sitting room where the unrecognized guest had made himself at home.
“Son,” Lyall nodded in return, signaling the boy to follow him, and he did. The father and son duo sat across from the dirty dark blue couch and sat themselves individually in old yellow armchairs.
Remus took this time of silence to take in the visitor. It was an old man with long graying hair and a beard to match it. Rip off Santa Claus, was undeniably the first thing that crossed Remus’ mind. If his thick iron scent wasn’t enough, the man also wore a bright red ceremonial-looking robe, accessories with a hat to match it. Nothing a muggle would ever wear unless they were as brave and crazy as Maddy was. And this old man looked anything but brave, crazy maybe, but not brave.
Remus may have been raised around muggles and squibs (mostly Maddy), but that didn’t mean he didn’t recognize the look of a wizard. He’d been around them not too much but enough to recognize them from non-magic folk.
Lyall bumped his shoulder into his son to catch his attention which he got immediately, “This is our visitor.” He simply said the obvious.
Remus did his very best not to roll his eyes, “figured that out already,” he couldn’t multitask meaning he couldn’t stop himself from the snarky comment.
“He’s the headmaster of the school I used to attend,” that explained the sudden soberness then, of course, he wouldn’t want to be pissed having a meeting with his old professor.
Remus' eyes assessed the older man, who gave out his hand with what some would call a warm smile, “Albus Dumbledore, and you must be Remus?”
Remus clicked his tongue, “Unless I’m clueless an’ ‘ave a brother no one told me ‘bout also named Remus, then ye’ I’m yer guy.” He shook the older man's hand.
Albus Dumbledore laughed while Lyall turned bright pink. Never knew he could get embarrassed. Remus took his hand back and leaned against the backrest.
“Hi,” Remus said with his father's glare piercing through him. “Yer a wizard?” He asked, fully knowing the answer, this was his father's headmaster after all and Lyall had gone to a school for magic folk though he never spoke much about it. So that and the odd clothing was enough of an answer, but the silence bore holes into Remus.
“That I am,” the old man confirmed, his eyes almost closed behind his smile. “Lyall, if you could?” He referenced the man, not turning away from Remus.
“Is there something you need before I go?” Asked Lyall, and Remus already knew there was something about Dumbledore that made his father act weird, which also meant he had never asked anything like that. He’d just always told their few visitors to get whatever they wanted for themselves.
Dumbledore shook his head, “No, thank you.” Lyall nodded before leaving the living room, without even a glance back at his son.
The two were left by themselves in silence and that silence would have lasted if Remus hadn’t realized the old man was waiting for him to speak, “What d’you want?”
“You already have an idea, do you not?”
“I ain’t allowed to go to school,” Remus stated plainly because he wasn’t. He had never been necessarily told so but he knew, with the way his parents acted, he knew he wasn’t. He never was even allowed to leave the town and if he hadn’t met the people he hung around years ago, he knew his parents wouldn’t let him be around them no matter the situation.
“Is that what your father says?”
“He locks me up fer days after the moons, so ain’t it obvious?”
Dumbledore seems taken aback by this and then Remus realizes he shouldn’t have said that. With the amount of respect his father clearly held for this man, Remus would be skinned alive. He never did much care for his father's opinion of what he said but the strange way he was acting meant Remus couldn’t tell what was coming next.
“But he hasn’t said anything to you directly?” Dumbledore asked, calmly, placing his foot over the other.
Remus snorted, covering his mouth with his hand, “Bloody man talks to me once a year, so ‘course he hasn’t.” He’d already insulted his father so why hold back now, he reasoned with himself.
The smile didn’t falter on Dumbledore's face even once, a little eerie, Remus noted. “Well, your father spoke quite highly of you-”
“Did he really?” Remus asked before he could stop himself. He knew that was probably a trap because Lyall would never say anything good about Remus, but bloody hell he wants for it to be true. He wants his father to speak like they’re actually related and not just strangers living under the same roof, but that’s what it felt like.
“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded, “so I’ve come to ask you if you’d like to come to my school?”
“Told ya, already, didn’t I? Dad won’t let me,” Remus sinks down into the armchair, “and since when do headguys come ‘emselves to get students?”
“I’m certain Lyall will send you with good wishes,” there’s a pause, “and you’re a special case-”
“‘Cause I’m a werewolf?”
Dumbledore was taken aback once again but this time let the surprise fully take over his face. Remus hated what he was more than anything, but that never meant he was ashamed to admit it because it wasn’t his fault someone thought it bright to nap and bite him. The muggles he was around only knew about him being a wizard, but Maddy was the only person outside his family who knew about his condition, mostly because no one had asked him. If he was asked, he'd simply say it like it was. He didn’t care about the consequences, not really. A father drinking and a mother ignoring he existed were enough bad things because of what he was for any reaction really to scare him.
And now there was Albus Dumbledore, who seemed surprised he acknowledged he was not normal and didn’t seem at all hesitant to admit to it.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, “well, yes.” He confirmed, “I wanted to speak with you in person, to tell you we will come up with a solution for your… episodes if you do choose to come. We truly wish you did.”
Remus sat in silence, jumping back to straighten his back. He would like to go, it’d be better than where he lived now, that was for sure. But he also didn’t want to just leave Maddy because Maddy was his bloody older brother and Remus knew he gave no shits about magic but he still didn’t want to leave him for something he wasn’t blessed with even with both his parents being magical.
Remus groaned, hiding his face in his hands for a couple of seconds while thoughts circled around in his head. “Dad’ll send you in a few days' time.” He decided the best answer. Because he had to talk to people to figure out what he actually wanted.
The old man nodded and the two sat in silence, having come to a conclusion that suited both parties.
__________
Monday 16th August 1971
It was raining. It always was, the days they chose to visit his father. He liked it, no one there to stare at two lonely souls standing in front of an eleven-year-old headstone, covered in moss and dirt. It hadn’t been cleaned for years, but it was just clean enough for the name engraved into it to be made out.
OLIVER PETTIGREW
born 12 June 1934, died 29 September 1959
Peter read the words slowly, for over a thousandth time yet savoring every word. The next rainstorm was supposed to be coming in September so this would have been the last time he’d see his father until December, he’d be going to Hogwarts in only two weeks after all. He was excited, though he’d miss this place, he never had left town for such a long period of time as he was now.
He leaned his head against Marlene’s leg as she whispered silent prayers. They always came together, whether for seconds or hours, they stood and sat in the rain, speaking to Oliver Pettigrew. James would join them from time to time, but this day he’d been far too busy to come.
Peter had never gotten to meet his father, he died three days before he was born but he felt like he knew him from the stories his mother had told him. He thought he knew his father better than he knew himself with the number of details Angela Pettigrew included in all her stories, but that’s what they said about love, wasn’t it? When you loved someone, you noticed even the more intricate details about the person, details even the person in question sometimes didn’t realize.
Peter had created the concept of love around his parents and he loved it. He hoped to learn what all the feelings felt like, how it felt like to be loved by a singular person more than life itself and how to reciprocate those feelings. Yes, he loved his mum and Marlene, but it wasn’t the same as what had been with his mum and dad. He idolized them and wanted that too. That’s why he visited his father every opportunity, to speak about love and Angela. He’d been doing it since he turned six, it was tradition which was why it was so hard for him to leave now and not see his father for months.
“Pete,” called Marlene, “you’re crushing my legs and I’ve been standing here the past two hours, they already feel like noodles.” She whined, getting Peter to immediately jump away, carrying an apologetic expression.
“Sorry, are you okay?” He asked. He’d forgotten how long they had been there without moving, It wasn’t as long as some days but long nonetheless.
The blond just laughed at his franticness, “Oh no, I’m absolutely dying.” Peter suspected her of rolling her eyes but in the darkness under the rain clouds and thick fog, he could barely see her figure. “But, please, can we go back in? I was just sick last week.” She always whined but never protested no matter how long they stayed out.
Peter nodded, standing up and patting down his muddy jeans to clean them from sitting on the ground as long as he had. Marlene smiled and moved her small white umbrella to cover the both of them from the rain that grew harder and louder with every second that passed.
“Bye Pa.” Peter waved to his father's headstone.
“Bye Oli.” Said Marlene.
And then they were on their way. One good thing about being friends with Marlene Mckinnon was that it was never boring, no matter the setting and situation. She danced and skipped in the rain while leaving her umbrella in Peter's care. Marlene always made the point to tell how much she hated rain yet she always ran around in it, looking like a fairy.
Marlene and Peter had met when they were eight, not long after the rumors had started going around. The rumors surrounded Peter and a thirteen-year-old boy, Miles Cyclon. Miles, even though he was five years older than Peter, had made it his life mission to taunt the younger boy, and one day, after a very rare argument with his mother, he had been in a bad mood and couldn’t keep his feelings in check, so he snapped. He shouted, cursed, and spat. But no physical contact had come before Peter had been taken away by teachers.
The rumors started that day, it went around that he’d beaten the thirteen-year-old close to death, and that he threatened everyone nearby. None of it was true of course, but no one would believe Peter. It only became more believable when Miles stopped going to school after that day. Why? Peter didn’t know.
Marlene came up to him after three or four days. He’d been sitting in his spot in the corner of the class, trying hard to read aloud but he still couldn’t do that the best. She’d looked him up and down and corrected him in saying one of the words. Peter, for the life of him, couldn’t remember what the word was but he was so glad he hadn’t known how to say it, though he’d never acknowledge it out loud. Marlene already had an ego the size of a lake, it didn’t need to grow any bigger.
After that, Marlene would read aloud for Peter and help him with words he couldn’t pronounce. And then three years had passed in the blink of an eye and now they both had received their letters in order to attend Hogwarts. Peter actually felt superior for the first time in his life, Miles Cyclon, a pure-blood hadn’t received a letter from any wizarding school, yet here was Peter (a half-blood) who had the weakest magic of any person he knew but he was still chosen.
Peter stopped abruptly, seeing the nameplate with his last name engraved on the brick wall: “PETTIGREW”. “I’ll be out in a second.” He nodded to Marlene, handing back the umbrella.
“You better, I don’t wanna stand here too long.”
“Mhm,” Peter hummed in acknowledgment as he opened the rusty gate that led into his front yard. The grass was outgrown and every step he took crunched over old leaves from months ago that never had been cleaned out.
The door was already cracked open as Peter entered. He wiped his shoes on the carpet before walking as fast as he was able to without running. He stopped by the kitchen, it had plates and glasses towering over each other in the sink yet they all looked clean. He grabbed two pouches of fizzing whizzbees and then knocked on the door that stood beside the kitchen counters.
There was no answer as Peter slowly opened the door and let himself inside. There was a small bedroom, a small bed beside an open window, and a half-empty bookshelf lined alongside an office table. By the other window, on a wooden rocking chair sat Angela Pettigrew.
“Hi, Ma.” Called Peter, getting the woman to turn around. Other than her dead and tired eyes, she was a pretty woman. Her hair was long and red, her face was full of freckles, and the only part of her looks Peter had inherited. The crystal blue eyes.
She opened her mouth as if to speak but no words came out yet she continued on moving her mouth like she was talking. Peter just walked up over to her and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead, “I’ll be going out with Marls,” he spoke carefully and then he was out the door, and back outside.
Marlene raised her hand immediately when she noticed him coming out and caught the bag of fizzing whizzbees thrown in her direction. It was a habit so much so that she clearly hadn’t even thought about it and had caught it out of reflex. Peter always got them sweets from his home when they visited his father's grave, it had started as an apology to Marlene for keeping her out in the freezing cold for hours, and then in became a habit that happened every time.
Peter closed and locked both the front door and the gate, then grabbed the umbrella Marlene was once again holding out to him. She always brought along an umbrella yet never used it herself, Peter didn’t own one so he was always grateful for it.
“She awake?” Marlene asked as she started skipping again in the rain with Peter following while clumsily trying to open the candy bag with one hand.
“Yeah,” he said, voice muffled with the bag in his mouth when he tore it open, “she’s doing good.” He said, hand in the bag that he’d fit in the same hand as the umbrella.
The duo had been here just two days prior, but Angela had been asleep so there was nothing to say over how she was doing, he only saw her during the rains and fogs the same as his father. Not long after Peter’s auntie died — Angela’s younger sister — when he was nine, his mother slowly stopped talking and eating and grew so weak she barely could stand. So now she only spent her days staring out the window or sleeping, while the witch assigned to look after her by the ministry stopped by at designated times of every day to feed, clothe, and bathe her.
Peter made sure that every time he visited his mother, there’d be fog or rain so many people wouldn’t be outside, and that the witch from the ministry whose name Peter hadn’t felt like remembering was not to be around. Marlene stayed outside as watch to make sure she wouldn’t be arriving early, they’d realized their mistake the first month when the witch had found them inside and kicked them out and had warned them never to go in there without exclusive permission again.
Don’t get him wrong, the witch was actually a nice person — that's what Peter believed even when so clearly avoiding seeing her again — she was just following orders from the ministry.
The town they lived in was small and without a name, or maybe it did have one but no one knew it, so now it was known by most people as the “nameless town”. Peter liked that as did most of the children because it sounded mysterious and they liked that. The town was first build for the ministry. Offices and apartments lined the roads, most closed down or being renovated. Only ministry personnel had been allowed there until thirty somewhat years ago which was also why not many people lived there and why it had no name since before it had been named something to match the ministry.
Marlene skipped in the rain while Peter ran after her. They laughed and talked and ate. And they did so until they reached the end of the town, a twenty-minute or so walk from Peter's home. There stood a black manor with silver windows, it was twice the size of most of the houses and clearly the newest too, it looked like it was sparkling as the rain bounced off the walls.
Taking a step on the white porch under the cover, Peter closed the white floral printed umbrella and leaned it by the front door next to the two other ones, one dry while the other wet. Marlene followed up on the porch, shaking her head and sending the water from her hair flying.
Before either of them could open the door it was already slammed open and revealed a girl the exact copy of her mother except for her brown eyes. Her red hair was cut into a bob with bangs that were barely cut above her eyelids, her freckles were dark against her pale skin, and her face brightened up at the sight of the two at the door.
“You came back sooner than I thought,” She smiled, hugging Marlene as she made herself inside. “How’s Ma?” She asked then, eyes turning to Peter.
“Good,” Peter says, stepping inside and wiping his shoes on the carpet, “more energetic.” He smiles, giving the girl a side hug.
Jacqueline Angela Pettigrew. Peter’s younger sister by exactly two minutes and the exact opposite. Maybe that was why they got along most of the time, actually being different people rather than the same as most people thought the first time they heard they were twins.
Peter closed the door behind him, took his shoes off, and wandered into the kitchen following the stench of food. In the kitchen, he found the kids. Most begging to help to make the food while the other half there only for the smell.
A small house elf was stood by the stove on a step stool, tasting the soup from the metal pot while more than one kid was trying to jump him, and he dodged every attempt. It took a while until one of the children noticed him, “Pete’s back!” He screeched, getting the attention of everyone else.
Ian smiled heavily as he ran into Peter's arms. The children were victims of the war, the ones who didn’t have any family left and so the Mckinnons had taken them in just as they had with Peter almost a year ago now.
“Welcome home, Master Peter.” Spoke to the house elf.
“Hi, Bing.” Answered Peter.
Peter reached into his pocket to find the fizzing whizzbees and when he did, he handed the half-eaten bag to Ian whose face brightened up instinctively. “Happy birthday.” Ian was seven from today on.
And then Peter was out of the kitchen after a few more hello’s to the others. He wandered up the stairs more and more until he reached the fourth and highest floor which only had two rooms (three, if the loo counted). One room was shared between Peter, Jacqueline, and Marlene while the other was for four older ones around the ages of thirteen to fifteen.
Knowing that neither of the girls was in the room, he barged in and almost ran to his bed. He reached under it and took out a small envelope enveloped in dust that had fallen from the underside of his mattress. He opened it, reached inside and took out the letter, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming because he never knew when he could trust himself and when he couldn’t.
But no, it wasn't a dream, there was his name at the top and then the next words,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Peter really was going there.
__________
Sunday 21st August 1971
“Arrêt.”
Sirius’ hands stopped, floating above the piano keys.
“Tu traînes,” the tutor's bad accent along with the terrible French made Sirius want to claw out his ears.
He went through the keys in his head again and again and then whispered a small, “sorry.”
Clawhouse, the tutor, clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly, “Encore un faux mouvement et ta mère en entendra parler.” Sirius never understood why all the tutors insisted on speaking French when Sirius himself was fluent in English and it only made things worse when he more than half the time, had no idea what they were saying.
“Sorry,” he muttered again. G, G, Em, Am7, D7. He repeated in his head, over and over, stretching his fingers while his eyes rushed from key to key. A deep breath.
He played the piano with Cissy. She maked even the biggest mistakes look intentional. She’d listen to Sirius play and would guide his fingers to the right ivory, she’d let him continue with his mistakes and would show him the right way after listening, and then when Sirius would panic over not playing the right chords she’d say, “mistakes tell the personality of the person who makes them.” And then they’d play again and Sirius would —
“Vous êtes pressé !” He wasn’t here with Cissy. He was here with Clawhouse who didn’t know French, Clawhouse who whipped his hands when he made a mistake. But it was alright— he’d get away soon.
He was whipped when he didn’t stop. Another scar to add to the many others that no one would heal so he would learn his lesson. He never did. So he got whipped more.
“Sorry,” he let out again, in almost a whisper. “Sorry,” He repeated. G, G, Em, Am7, D7. There was a knock at the door and Sirius felt like he was being punched in the lungs as all the air came up in an instant when Clawhouse places the whip down and walked to the door.
She switched words with whoever was there but Sirius couldn’t understand. His eardrums were ruptured. They always were after his lessons. But it’s okay now. He’s okay. It’s all okay. It’s—
“Master Sirius,” Oh, Someone was there. Someone who wouldn’t let it slide if they heard Sirius be addressed informally. “Your father needs you.” She says, letting it out like a hate word. “Go now, you.” She says, disgustingly, to the house elf at the door while waving her to leave.
The house elf, Raj, bowed and then was gone to whatever other part of the house she was needed in. In the midst of being both happy and terrified of finally getting to leave the awful lesson but having to be face to face with his father, who wasn’t the nicest of people even while he was a hundred times better than Walburga, Sirius almost ran out of the room.
He didn’t glance back at Clawhouse at all, even with her yelling something after him. The house was big— not as big as the Black Family Manor back in France, but still big and unfamiliar enough for Sirius to get lost in the dark halls, most walls covered with skulls and old wands which didn’t help the eerie feeling Sirius already felt.
The halls only seemed to grow longer with every step he took, not too different from home. It always happened when Sirius was called in by his parents, it was so rare it made him nervous and thus— the never-ending halls. He was happy to be called in, of course. His parents wanting to see him usually meant that he’d done good. They’d praise his work would ask him to play them a song, he’d been saving one for months now just to show them. Maybe they’d give him something for his work when they heard how good he was.
If that wasn’t what he was called in for then it would have been about him doing badly in his classes and that would have been impossible, he was excelling in all his classes. Clawhouse would be the only tutor to complain about Sirius’ work but that would mean his parents would find out about the way she treated their heir, and after once going through it, she would not want it again.
So the only option was the former making Sirius feel slightly giddy. He liked getting praised, it was so rare he knew he had done well when his parents acknowledged his worth.
To Sirius, it felt like an hour, in reality, it was five minutes until he made it to his father's office doors. The doors were a very dark brown with a golden handle carved to take the form of a snake (for now. It changed shapes depending on the hour).
A knock and another and another and— the door opened a small crack. A sign you could enter. Sirius straightened his posture, threw away the excitement painting his face, cleared his throat, and then put his hand on the handle, pushing it open. “Father?” He called out.
His father was sitting in a silver office chair, face in the day's daily prophet. Sirius’ gaze followed the line of sight to the identical golden two chairs sitting opposite Orion Black. On the right, sat Regulus, fidgeting with his hair as he always did when he didn’t know what else to do. His eyes had snapped away from the nervous glances he was giving their father, the moment the door had been opened.
His face clearly lit up at the sight of Sirius and Sirius returned the sentiment. He then glanced back to their father, whose gaze hadn’t moved from the paper. Regulus noticed that and immediately his face turned stone cold, remembering their father was in the room.
Regulus had picked this up from Sirius and copied it every time. Sirius felt bad that his brother acted with no emotion at ten, but he thought it better than having him reprimanded the same Sirius had been.
“Father,” Sirius greeted as he sat next to his brother, “Reggie.” He added, smiling at the scowl he received at the nickname.
A minute, then two, and then three passed before Orion placed the paper neatly on his desk, and looked over at Sirius, “How are your classes going, Sirius?” And that completely canceled out even the smallest possibility of that latter choice.
“They’re going well,” and before he forgot, he added, “Thank you.”
Orion nodded, accepting this answer, and then turned to Regulus, “And yours?”
Regulus’ eyes lit up at being addressed, “Great!” He answered almost immediately and then remembering Sirius, he also went, “Thank you.”
Orion eyed the younger of the two boys for a bit longer before leaning back in his chair, “When are you leaving again?” He directed at Sirius, eyes half closed.
“Two weeks.”
Orion nodded, “your mother wanted you to know that while you are gone, Regulus is going to take up all of your responsibilities, including classes, feeding the little things,” — little things meant the house elves — “and all your responsibilities as the Black heir.” Those responsibilities weren’t many, but Sirius only nodded.
The only things that had to do with Sirius being the heir were the few extra classes (mostly about spells and wandless magic). Regulus was smiling from his spot. He had always been happier about doing things for their parents than Sirius did.
Especially when he idolized Sirius as much as he did, Regulus was happy to do the things he did to become even the slightest bit more like his brother.
“And,” their father continued after a pause, “Sit next to Narcissa after you are sorted and she will guide you through the year.”
Sirius nodded and felt relief in knowing Cissy would be there. Through her arrogant front persona, she may as well have been one of the softest people Sirius was aware of on the planet. If you got to know her and she trusted you enough, you would understand what Sirius saw.
“Pars maintenant.”
Oh.
Oh, that was it? No praise or punishments. No compliments, no smiles, just a leave now. Just a message from their mother about Regulus taking up his (non-existent ) responsibilities. Just about Narcissa having given the plan to give to Sirius. Just—
“Partir.” Orion repeated.
But— the song. Didn’t he want to hear the song? It was his favorite. He often had the house elves play it for him. He’d asked Sirius to learn it before so couldn’t he ask to listen to a song? A small word of praise at least?
“Did you not hear me?”
“No, I—” Sirius panicked. “Father, would you-”
Orion raised his finger, pointing it at the door, and making Sirius fall quiet.
Sirius slumped his shoulders down as he stood up and headed out the door. Regulus was about to follow when their father said, “not you, Regulus.” And oh.
Why did Regulus get to have more time with their parents every time? Sirius was supposed to have that time because he was the heir, was he not? Why couldn’t their parents awkoledge that? It wasn’t fair that Regulus got more time, it really bloody wasn’t fair.
Sirius stomped his way through the same hall he had twenty minutes ago but now it seemed small. So small and scared and it annoyed Sirius. He stormed past Raj, making her fall over but he was in a mood. And when he was in a mood he didn’t care. And when he didn’t care he just continued on his way.
He walked past the room Clawhouse was waiting for him to return to finish their session but he still didn’t stop. Not when Clawhouse called his name both informally and formally when she noticed him walking past. When he finally made it to his room is when he stopped.
He slammed shut the door and almost jumped on his bed. And then he screamed. He screamed into his pillow, into his hands, into his mattress. He screamed into the mirror, at himself, and at Regulus and his father. And he screamed. He screamed until his voice was gone, until all he could let out was a whisper.
And then he fell asleep.
__________
Thursday 1st September 1971
It would take a new acquaintance for James Potter to realize he was no longer in a small backed-up corner of the world where everyone knew everyone. He was no longer the smiling poster boy people asked to take pictures with.
He was searching for the candy trolley to buy something for Peter Pettigrew's motion sickness. He’d never been good with vehicles and the lengthy train ride would certainly make him feel worse. And with not having learned any healing spells yet, James had decided to see if the trolley had a candy that could help with motion sickness.
What he didn’t expect to find was a boy being held up by his throat against a compartment door. Around the same age as James was and that only left the question, what could a first year have already only done on the train to have earned himself an enemy?
And the enemy looked really dumb too. With his blonde flowing hair and a cane in his left hand. He looked like a stupid young girl or a stupid old grandma. And in the span of 0.5 seconds, James had already decided that the stupid ugly old grandma sucked and didn’t deserve his presence.
So what did he do? Leave a stranger to keep getting strangled? No. Getting his wand from inside his boot he’d placed it in, he pointed it at the ugly frog-faced boy and whispered, “Skontapto.”
After a few seconds, the hand was no longer on the throat, instead along with his face, it was on the floor. James couldn’t be more grateful for listening to his father's rant about teaching him the spell.
The boy who had been kept by the throat had fallen, one hand at his throat and the other in his black curls, his eyes fell onto James who was not too certain what he should do now but it all almost clicked into place when he received a smile from the stranger. “Luci, darling, say hello to Cissy for me.” He said through coughs and a weirdly steady voice.
James was moving. He took one step when he usually would have taken five, and offered his hand to the boy whose legs were shaking so. “James Potter.”
“S-I-R-I-U-S.” The boy responded, a strong accent James couldn’t recognize, and grinned at James’ confusion, “Bloody perfect you are. Sirius. The star kind, not the mood.”
James’ eyes lit up in recognition as he repeated the spelling of the name in his head. S-I-R-I-U-S. Sirius. Sir-i-us. “Hope I didn’t have a moment of wrong judgment.” He tilted his head towards the male who groaned his way back into a standing position.
Sirius laughed, shaking his head, “No worries, still better to leave before he murders the both of us.” James acknowledged this and agreed, grabbing the smaller boy's hand and starting to run towards the compartment his old friend was waiting in.
Noticing the blonde angrily following, James ducked into an open compartment, dragging Sirius behind. He closed the door, and thankfully, the blinds had already been placed down on the door window so no one could look in.
Sirius fell onto the floor, under the window and James follows. And then they’re laughing. They laugh until they’re red in the face and until they can’t breathe. Sirius with a red mark around his neck and James with his wand still out that had just cast its first spell, the trip jinx. And James wouldn’t have had it any other way.
They’re still holding hands when they stop laughing. And then they realize they have an audience. The compartment isn’t empty, there are three people sitting there, staring right at them.
There’s a boy sitting in the corner with a book in hand and freckles that looked like snow had fallen on his face and sand-brown hair, his book was laid on his knees he has pulled up to his chest. He eyed them for a moment before settling back to read his book.
Next to the boy was a girl with red hair and deep green eyes. Her face was also filled with freckles but on her, they’re more visible. On her face is maybe the biggest smile James had ever seen on a person. His first thought upon seeing it was Pretty.
The last one was a boy with greasy black hair who sat across from the girl. He had a small thin nose and his lips were almost invisible but noticeable enough for the scowl to be seen that had appeared the moment the two new additions had barged in.
“Sorry about—” Sirius had moved to cover James’ mouth with the hand he’d been holding just seconds ago. There was some bustling and footsteps behind the door and then a voice. Then it was quiet again.
Sirius didn’t seem to be breathing when his hand fell from James’ hand and when he peeked through the window behind the curtain. He let out a long and deep breath when he plopped back down next to James on the floor and gave him a thumbs up.
And then they were laughing again. Laughing. Laughing. Laughing.
The greasy-haired boy's clearing of throat was what made them both stop. He was glaring at them with angry void eyes and James decided then and there that he didn’t like him.
“If you’re done, you can leave.” Even his voice was annoying. It was high-pitched and deep at the same time, and when he spoke he lifted his chin like he was above everyone.
“Sev!” The girl scolded, “Are you alright?” She asked and it took James a moment to realize she was talking about the bruises on Sirius’ neck.
Sirius nodded nonchalantly, “Family sometimes hug too tight.” Was his explanation. James knew he was lying yet Sirius looked like the purest form of art, like you would believe any word that came out of his mouth, so James almost believed it himself.
This explanation however seemed good enough for the girl, “Oh, I know what you mean. My friends sometimes complain that I hug them so tight they can’t breathe.” James wanted to feel one of her hugs. “A sign of affection, you know?”
Sirius smiled and nodded. Smiled and nodded as if James hadn’t just minutes ago found him being strangled in the air.
Right, minutes ago… Where was James going minutes ago?
He sprang up to his feet, making Sirius jump, “Sorry, mate. I was on the way to get some candy for motion sickness. See you, yeah?” He was already half out the door after Sirius had said his goodbyes when a tug at his sleeve stopped him.
His eyes fell on the boy who’d sat in the corner. His book was placed under his arm and his eyes were trailing on his feet. His hand was in his pocket, searching for a minute until he pulled it out, holding onto something.
James’ eyes lit up, “thank you!” He accepted the melted half-eaten chocolate bar. The boy continued avoiding his gaze but nodded before returning back to his seat.
James looked back and took note of the compartment number that was right next to the door with big bold golden letters; 144. He wasn’t that far from Peter. He placed his wand back into his boot and turned to Sirius, “Time me.” And then he was gone.
---
Peter was breathing heavily when they returned to the compartment. The chocolate worked surprisingly well and James made a note in his head to thank the boy over it again. Marlene had been gone when James came back and instead of waiting, he’d just taken a hold of Peter, forced him to eat the chocolate, and made him run.
They ran even faster when James saw the blonde from earlier in one of the compartments that they passed. Thankfully, they did go unnoticed.
They ran the whole way back and when they slid open the door, everything like the first time seemed to just freeze in time. The chocolate boy sat in the corner, reading. The redhead was smiling her smile and the greasy-haired boy was still frowning. Sirius was this time sat next to the greasy one, though pushed up against the wall like he was trying to be as far away as he could.
This time unlike before, James was fully able to take in the small room. He’d never been on a train before at least from what he could remember so everything to him looked new. The compartment was slightly bigger and different than the one he had just fetched Peter from.
The seats were a yale blue and so low that there was only a small crack between them and the floor. There were paintings over the seats too, of what James thought to have been the school. It looked like a castle, like something he’d find in a fairytale picture book.
The window directly opposite the entrance was huge, twice the size of James almost. Half the wall was covered by the same fabric as the seats, while the other half was an old worn-out white wall. And on the wall right below the window, which was neither white nor covered in the same seat fabric but blue nonetheless were carvings. James couldn’t make out what they said exactly as lines had been carved over them but what he could make out made them seem like names. Far too old to have been carved recently though.
“Time?” James breathed, dragging Peter behind him as he sat down next to Sirius.
Sirius seemed relieved at their arrival as he let himself relax and pulled himself a little farther from the wall, “5:42.”
James’ eyes lit up and he did a victory fist bump in the air. He’d done it faster than he expected. “Right, this is Pete— oh!” He stopped mid-introduction and turned to the boy sitting across from them, “The chocolate helped. Thanks a ton!”
It seemed to take a bit until he realized he was being spoken to, the boy slowly lifted his head from his book and gave a slight nod, his eyes falling onto Peter when he was offering his hand. “Thank you.” He smiled, his dimples showing.
The boy nodded again, taking the hand, shaking it, and pulling back almost immediately.
The redhead laughed then and James immediately turned to her. “I’m Lily Evans, this is Severus Snape.” She smiled and gave her hand out to shake. Peter and James took it, Sirius was off in his own world staring out the window to not notice it.
“James Potter,” James nodded, not being able to take his eyes off the green ones looking at him. “This is Sirius Black and Pete.”
“Pete? No last name?”
“Oh, right. Pettigrew.” Peter didn’t even try to step in and just let James do the introduction for him.
That was all the words they switched between each other before the greasy bastard— Severus Snape — was pulling away all Lily's attention.
James couldn’t even think about that much though as Sirius was pulling away his attention too. They went over the introductions again. Sirius the same way as he had introduced himself to James. S-I-R-I-U-S. The star kind, not the mood. And then Peter with his death glare when James introduced him as Pete.
Marlene had introduced him to James the same way when they’d first met, so it had just sort of stuck. Pete. Peter didn’t say anything about it so James only remembered the hatred after he received the death glare each time.
Time went by. Hours, maybe, with the two groups not paying attention to the other. Sirius and Peter and James talked about what they were excited about when they arrived, the chocolate boy had fallen asleep, and Lily Evans and Severus Snape talked in almost hushed tones.
“You’d better be in Slytherin,” Severus Snape spoke in a less hushed voice, surprising James that his frown was long gone. “We could—”
“Slytherin?” James spoke before he could stop himself, “Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” He looked to Sirius who was curling himself up into a ball, back up against the wall.
His eyes narrowed, “yeah…” His voice was trailing off and he seemed uncertain of himself. “You for Gryffindor, then?”
James puffed out his chest proudly, “Yep! Just like my dad.”
Severus Snape made a noise that sounded like muffled laughter.
James shot him a glare, “a better place than choosing to kill people, for sure.”
Lily let out an audible gasp, while Severus Snape shot up from his seat, “Aren’t glasses supposed to mean you’re smart? Must have sold your brain for those golden frames.” He scoffed, “You’ll fit right in with those brainless muscles, no doubt.”
Peter stood up then, before it could escalate any further, “We’re done. Please, be done.”
“No, no, Pete. Let the guy continue.” James spoke from his seat, “Gotta say, I’m really curious to know how this guy lives with jelly for a brain.” He sported a laugh, Peter following in kind while deciding to not even try and stop whatever was going on a second time.
Lily abruptly stood from her seat, putting her hand around Severus Snape’s, “Sev.” She scolds, turning to James with a glare that could pierce a thousand suns, “Let’s find another compartment. I’d rather not sit the next six hours next to trolls.” She emphasized the last part before pulling the boy behind her out of that compartment without even a second look back.
“Goodbye, Snivellus.” James found his eyes landing on the boy with the chocolate. His voice had been quiet and hoarse and soft in a winning type but James was certain it had come from him nonetheless.
The boy looked up from his place leaning up against the wall and his eyes widened at the realization he’d spoken out loud. There was a silence that fell upon the four before Sirius bursted out laughing. He was laughing and through heavy breathing, he spoke, “Snivellus! Oh, you bloody genius!”
The boy's face grew red and he hid his face behind his knees but James saw the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.
Peter was then laughing too as he fell back into his seat and then James laughed. Because what had just happened? Something amazing, that was for sure.
“James Potter.” James got through his laughter, giving the boy his hand to shake.
The boy's smile vanished as fast as it had appeared. He eyed the hand and slowly accepted it, letting James shake it but not doing anything himself.
Peter appeared next to them and smiled, his dimples showing again, “Hi! I’m Peter.” He introduced himself but only received a nod as acknowledgment.
Sirius was still laughing, “Snivellus. Oh, Snivellus!” He was muttering to himself after every breath. Realizing the stares of everyone in the compartment he tried calming down a bit, “Oh, right.” He looked at the chocolate boy, who was eyeing Sirius like he was a specimen in an experiment. “Sirius. Sirius Black. S-I-R-”
“I-U-S. The star, not the mood. I ‘eard yeh teh first time.” He had a strong accent and it took a few minutes until the words processed themselves into James’ brain. The boy this time, was the first to offer his hand, “Name’s Remus Lupin.”
Sirius blinked and then grinned, taking the hand in his.