Chapter 7
“Sit,” McGonagall gestured to four chairs and stood behind her desk, once they were all sitting she said, “This is a serious situation you have put yourselves in. Being out past nine-o’clock as first-years is against Hogwarts rules, as you very well know. The last time Mr Filch caught you out of bed all you got was a detention. This time you were not only out of your common room but out of the castle with stolen school broomsticks, be prepared for more than just one detention.”
“We didn’t steal them, we borrowed them,” James said. Sirius heard Remus groan beside him.
“Now, do you think that helps your case at all, Mr Potter?” McGonagall said, staring piercingly from each of the boys in turn.
“No, Professor,” James said, quietly. McGonagall paused, sat down, and said,
“You marauders will each receive two months worth of detention and twenty points from Gryffindor. You may go.”
Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter stood and moved toward the door.
“Without the broomsticks!” she snapped, but as Sirius turned to lean the broom against the wall he saw she was holding back a grin.
“Well at least she isn’t telling our parents,” Peter breathed, and Sirius had to agree on that one.
“What does ‘marauder’ mean?” James asked the group as they trudged up to Gryffindor Tower.
“What?” Remus said.
“McGonagall said we were ‘marauders’. What does that mean?”
“It’s like a word for troublemakers,” Remus answered, “Or it sometimes means thieves.” James nodded, in thought.
“It has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“I guess, yeah,” Remus shrugged.
As usual, the Fat Lady grumpily let them into the common room, angry at being awoken so abruptly and late at night.
Once the boys had settled down in the dormitory, James nudged Sirius,
“Do you like The Marauders?”
“For what?”
“For us. Like a group name.”
Sirius smiled and climbed into his four-poster.
“Yeah it’s cool.”
“Why do we need a group name?”
“Because it’s cool!” Peter insisted. He, Sirius, and James were explaining James’s idea for a group name to Remus. They were the last ones sitting near the dying fire in the common room, supposedly doing History of Magic revision.
“It’s a clever name,” Remus said, “I just don’t understand what we’d need it for.”
“I dunno, we could sign it on our map when we finish it,” Sirius suggested, then yelped, “Oi!” Peter had punched him in the shoulder.
“My map,” he said, indignantly, “You didn’t even want to do it in the first place!” Sirius folded his arms,
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind. Is that permitted?”
Peter rolled his eyes and picked up his quill to continue copying off Remus’s notes.
“So it’s settled then,” James said, nodding and turning back to reading about the history of self-stirring cauldrons.
Sirius sat in silence, then pulled his parchment in front of him and reached over to move Remus’s notes closer. Peter grabbed the notes and yanked them back to his side of the table. Sirius didn’t react at once, then he lifted them into the air but was too slow for Peter, who caught them.
“Right, I’m off to bed,” Remus said, standing up and tugging his notes out of Peter’s hands before they got ink spilt all over them, “And I’m taking these, too.”
“I’m using those!” Peter exclaimed.
“Copy them tomorrow,” Remus said, “Or, you know–”
“-listen in class,” Sirius finished the sentence, yawning, “You know what, I’m tired too. See you lot upstairs.”
Sirius was honestly not very tired, but he had been trying to go to sleep earlier so he wouldn’t fall asleep in class. Evenings needed to be open for map-making, they had no time for detention. So he trudged up to the dormitory, pulled his pyjamas on, and climbed into his four-poster.
Not three minutes later he pulled his curtains back, Remus was sitting up in his bed reading a book.
“I thought you were going to sleep,” Sirius said.
“I said I was going to bed, not to sleep,” Remus answered, eyes still glued to the pages.
Sirius lay back again for barely thirty seconds before deciding he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He got up and bounded into Remus’s bed. Remus pulled his pillow higher up and shifted back to make room.
“What is this?” Sirius said, tugging the book out of Remus’s hands, apparently thinking he needed the attention on him.
“A book,” Remus answered, reaching over to take it back.
“Obviously. I’m not thick” said Sirius, letting him.
“Oh, my mistake,” Remus smirked, and Sirius swatted him over the head. Then Sirius shifted over to study the pile of books on Remus’s bedside table,
“How do you have all of these books? And read them all?” he asked.
“Most of those are Muggle books that I reread,” Remus told him.
“Reread? Blimey,” Sirius looked baffled. Remus laughed,
“You can borrow them anytime. It might give you something to do over the summer.”
“Oh, let’s not talk about summer,” Sirius swung his legs off the bed and moved over to the window-seat.
“Well, we still have two months,” Remus said, trying to reassure him. Sirius got quiet, just staring out the window.
There was barely a moment of silence between them, before what seemed like a ball of fur hurtled out of the darkness and slammed into the window. Sirius jumped back and toppled off the window-seat onto the ground. Remus hurried out of his four-poster. When Sirius had gotten to his feet, a sophisticated-looking great horned owl was on the window sill clutching a letter. There was no doubt in his mind it was a Black family owl.
Sirius cautiously opened the window, letting the owl fly in, and untied the letter from its leg. When he ripped it open, Sirius felt his heartbeat speed up instantly. The parchment was not his mother’s but it did have the Black family crest stamped in the corner, and Regulus’s writing.
Sirius, I can’t remember my fourth thing.
I miss you.
Damn it.
Sirius didn’t realise he was on the ground until Remus was saying something,
“--Sirius? Who was the letter from? Sirius! Are you alright?”
“My brother,” Sirius said, now leaning himself against his four-poster.
“Is he alright?” Remus asked, concern all over his face.
Sirius shook his head manically. Remus hesitated, then said,
“Do you need anything?”
Sirius thought about it,
“No,” he stood up suddenly and, keeping the letter tightly in his grip, stalked out of the dormitory and down the stairs, his heart pounding in his ears. Remus followed close behind.
James and Peter looked up at the noise on the stairwell.
“I thought you two were off to bed–” Peter started, before seeing how pale Sirius looked. They stood up and hurried over to him, but he was already halfway across the common room.
“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.
“Letter from my brother,” Sirius said, still clutching Regulus’s letter.
“Is everything alright?” James asked, though he could tell everything was not alright.
“Someone get me parchment,” Sirius didn’t acknowledge the question.
“Where are you going?” James carried on.
“Owlery,” Sirius said, about to push open the portrait hole. James grabbed his arm,
“At least take the cloak,”
“Thanks, but no,” Sirius tried to walk forward but James stepped in front of him, blocking the way, “Let me go.”
“Not until you tell us what’s going on,” said James, deadly serious now. Sirius just shoved Regulus’s letter into James’s hands. His eyes scanned over it, then he said, desperately trying to understand,
“What does it mean? Is this bad?”
“I don’t have time to explain,” Sirius shook his head and took the letter back.
“Wait, wait. Breathe for a moment,” James said, laying his hands on Sirius’s shoulders to try to ground him.
“No, no, you don’t get it!” Sirius shrugged him off and started pacing slightly, his voice rising into something like hysteria, “I have to do something! They’re hurting him! I’m the only one who will do anything!” He felt tears pricking his eyes, but roughly blinked them away, refusing to cry in front of Remus and Peter, and for the second time in front of James.
“What are you planning to do?” Remus said, sounding worried about what the answer might be. Sirius sighed in exasperation, wringing his hands,
“I don’t know…write my mother,” he said, “Tell her to keep away from him.”
“Would that work?” Peter asked, sceptically.
“No,” Sirius admitted, feeling the tears coming again, “But I have no other choice, do I?”
“Well–” James started,
“Don’t tell me to leave it,” Sirius warned.
“Of course not. I was going to say you should go to Dumbledore,” James said.
“He won’t do anything,” Sirius’s shoulders slumped. He started pacing back and forth, the others following his movements with their eyes. James shared a glance with Peter and Remus then said,
“I don’t know–”
“Wait.” Sirius cut him off, eyes wide, “Floo!” he hurried toward one of the common room fires and dropped down to his knees in front of it, searching the bricks and small crevices surrounding it. There must be floo powder around somewhere. There wasn’t. Sirius let out a groan of hopelessness.
“I have floo powder upstairs,” James said, already taking the stairs to the boys dormitory two at a time. Seconds later, he was barrelling back down with a small pot of bright green powder. Of course James had floo powder.
“My mum made me bring it in case I needed to contact her in an emergency,” he said, blushing slightly, as he passed it to Sirius. Sirius thought, as he scooped up a handful of floo powder, that that was nothing to be embarrassed about and actually quite nice.
Sirius threw the handful of the powder into the fire, making a small mess around the hearth but he didn’t care. Green flames replaced the orange ones at once. Sirius stuck his face straight into the flames and said, determinedly,
“Regulus Black’s bedroom, 12 Grimmauld Place, London.”
Sirius felt his head spin and saw dozens of strange rooms flash past before, coughing up a bit of soot, he was peering into his brother’s bedroom from very low down. Extensive bookshelf, dust under the bed, large silver bedknobs, ornate chandelier, and all. Regulus himself was laying back across his armchair clutching a book.
“Reg,” Sirius hissed, carefully, in case Kreacher was lurking somewhere. Regulus started and whipped his head around. He almost toppled off the chair on his way to kneel in front of the fire.
“I hope you know how much of an unbelievable invasion of privacy this is,” was the first thing Regulus said.
“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Sirius babbled, wishing he could reach out to make sure for himself.
“What do you..” Regulus said, slowly, something seemed to dawn on him, “Oh, the letter.”
“The letter,” Sirius repeated, “What was that all about? What are they doing to you? I’ll stop it.”
Regulus sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek,
“About that…it’s fine. False alarm.”
“Reggie…” Sirius could just tell the look on his face probably looked so pitiful because Regulus leaned closer.
“What if they’re listening?” he whispered, fretfully.
The thing is, Sirius couldn’t promise they weren’t. For all he knew his mother could have linked all the fires in the house together, it wouldn’t be outside of her realm of capabilities or creativity. So Sirius said,
“I don’t know. But I need to know what happened, Reg, please.”
Regulus took a shaky breath,
“Mother was in one of her moods and she accused me of being in contact with you, which I was. And she saw it.”
“Damn it. We have to learn Occlumency,” Sirius hit his fist against the bricks of the hearth but instead of quenching his feeling of guilt, pain vibrated through the bones in his hand.
“It’s my own fault,” Regulus hung his head.
“Stop it,” Sirius said, sharply.
“Besides,” Regulus continued, “Bellatrix gave up on teaching you, remember?”
“Yeah, well, I’ll try to catch her at a good time this summer,” Sirius said, sighing, “Do you want me to stop writing to you, then?” Regulus immediately answered,
“No. But no more of this fire business, you could catch Kreacher. Plus…” he gestured around at the portraits snoozing in their frames on the walls of his bedroom.
“Oh, piss off, all yours do is sleep,” Sirius said, “Alright, I’ll go.”
“Promise to write,” reminded Regulus.
“I promise.”
Regulus stood and moved away from the hearth, but looked back around when Sirius said,
“Violet. Your fourth thing is your favourite colour, violet.”
“Yeah,” Regulus rolled his eyes, “ I remember now.”