Our Reckoning | The Marauders

Remus shut his eyes and ran straight through the wall. An overwhelming wave of sound hit him; that of animated and excited chatter, of children running about, of trunks being hauled up the train compartment entrances. He opened his eyes cautiously and he felt his jaw slack at the sheer number of wizards and witches of all ages at the platform. He didn't think he'd ever been close to so many people at once. It was thrilling, it was exciting , and yet at the same time… sickening.

Remus looked at the people around him, and couldn't help but think how he was putting them all in danger.

They didn't know , they hadn't had a choice when Dumbledore allowed Remus the chance to attend Hogwarts. They didn't know how he could hurt them, because if they had, he'd never have been here.

"He's our son , Lyall! By Morgana, what is wrong with you?!"

"I didn’t sign up for this, Beatrice! I signed up for- for a human, dammit! Not a werewolf ! Not-not a monster !"

SMACK

"He's Remus Lupin," Beatrice's voice thundered, "Our child and the pride you could never be! Now listen, Lyall; if any of the nonsense you uttered just now ever gets in Remus' head, you'll be sorry you were ever born!"

Remus pulled his mother's words to the forefront of his mind and tried to ignore Lyall Lupin as he came through the barrier behind him and chided him for standing still in the middle of a bustling platform. Still, he dragged his trunk-on-wheels to a corner for his observations.

Lyall scoffed at Remus' lack of response but took it as an excuse that the boy wanted to be alone and went to meet some old acquaintances. Beatrice came through the barrier just in time to see him leave and throw a troubled look at her husband.

She sighed and made her way to Remus, her kind eyes shone with warmth when she bent over to peck his forehead with a kiss.

"Have fun, okay, Remus?" Beatrice said, "And show them all what you're made of!" She fist bumped him.

Remus blushed, "Yes, Mum. I will."

Her expression turned a little serious, "I didn't mean that you must prove something to everyone, only that you give things your best. You know this, right?

Remus nodded.

"Well then," She hugged him.

Remus returned the hug after a moment's pause with some surprise. First the kiss, and now a hug. That was quite a bit of motherly affection in a day.

"I'll miss you," He croaked out.

She pulled back from him and grinned, "No you won't. You are going to have a great time, and a year later you're gonna say 'but Hogwarts is my home!' to the professors, begging them to allow you to stay there longer."

Remus shook his head incredulously, but the words did raise his spirits for the journey ahead.

Remus looked at her slyly, "We'll see."

Beatrice laughed, "There's my boy. Now go and have a look around while I stop your father from making a fool of himself," Her voice lowered conspiratorially, "Though truth be told, I am not much in the mood for it. Would you prefer it if I stayed?"

"It's fine," Remus said hesitantly, "I'd rather explore myself."

Beatrice's smile grew wider, if that was even possible, and she waved at him before looking around for Lyall.

Remus roamed through the crowd thronging the station, making note of as many student faces as he could. The ones that immediately caught his eye, he realised, were the ones talking happily with their families as if they had no worry in their world. He envied them, though he knew rationally that they too had problems in their life. Everyone did, and though he knew this, he envied them.

Does that make me a bad person?

A snide voice answered, was that ever in doubt?

Remus shook his head sharply, and the burning in his gut that arose when he looked at a boy some a few feet away from him calmed a little. He wore spectacles and had hair so messy it looked like he'd rolled out of bed. His everyday robes, though, were prim and proper. Something about the way he carried them told Remus he dressed to impress everyday. The boy smiled up warmly at his mother, who did the same, but something was odd about it that took Remus a moment to place.

They both had worry lines on their forehead.

Before Remus could focus on that thought any further, something else caught his attention from the corner of his eye. It was another family, except…

Everything about it screamed wrong. Remus had to force himself to look at the family for long. Their faces were just… plain sadistic. Disgustingly cruel. It was if they didn’t care who you were but would gladly enjoy seeing you writhe in agony.

It wasn't that they were ugly, no— they had artfully sculpted faces that would have been lovely in another world, but their expressions, their aura, made them unbearable to look at for too long. At least for him.

And then Remus noticed.

He hadn't earlier, because he'd been so preoccupied with the others, but now he saw a face that looked nothing like the rest; that, because it was surrounded by such harshness, seemed to glow faintly because of its own innocence. Like a bird trapped in a cage for years that had not yet given up hope of being free.

That was the first time he saw Alice Carrow.

Remus hadn't seen such a pitiful scene in his life (he had, and he was the star, but Remus had never seen himself as pitiful, only a horror); the girl looked like she wanted to run away far from here, yet was too scared to even breathe properly. Before he could think to do anything, or even realise that he couldn't , not yet anyway, he heard a voice behind him greet him.

Remus quite enjoyed reading books, and if he had to describe it, he'd say the voice was a low baritone forcing itself to be high, and yet for its weird sound it sounded awfully cheerful. As if the person was grinning when he said it.

"Hello," said the boy when Remus turned around to face him, "I'm Sirius Black. You?"

Remus was momentarily caught off guard that someone was speaking to him of all the people about.

"Er… Hi," Remus offered, "I-I'm Remus."

Great going, Remus. Now he's going to think you're stupid!

"Are you a muggleborn?" Black asked with some amusement.

Remus stiffened and jut his chin out, "Does that matter?"

"No, not at all," Black said easily, "It's just that you looked quite amazed when you first entered the platform, and you haven't run away after hearing my last name."

Duly noted, Remus thought dryly. Don't gape like a baboon and the Blacks are something to be wary of.

"You don't need to be a muggleborn to appreciate the wonders of magic," Remus said carefully.

Sirius laughed, "I agree. Still, you got a last name to go with the first, Remus?"

Remus had a sinking, odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, though he was trying to ignore it.

"Lupin," said Remus.

"Pleasure to meet you, Remus Lupin," Sirius frowned, "Your parents are fans of wolves?"

"W-what?" Remus trembled. His voice was weak, though he wished it was anything but. Did he know ? Had this all been some sick sort of joke?

"Lupin is taken from lupinus, which means “pertaining to the wolf”," Sirius said, "and usually wizarding families have some connection to what their surname represents."

The sick feeling subsided, and Remus found himself smiling ironically, "Oh, they do. I was only surprised as to how you knew. They love wolves of all kinds."

Lyall would kill Remus if he heard him now, but Remus was surprised to find he didn't care very much.

"You ungrateful brat—"

"I didn't mean to—"

A shudder passed through him, and he locked the rebellious side of him away. It did no good.

"Werewolves?" Sirius said casually, and Remus noticed his eyes flicker towards a family not far away from them. Due to the shared features, they were easily identified as the rest of the Blacks.

"M-My father is trying to pass laws for them to be given better job opportunities," Remus said, though the trembling in his hands didn't stop. It was technically true, if half-hearted attempts to make up for his previous anti-werewolf legislation propositions counted.

At that, the Blacks' obvious disdain for him changed to filthy disgust, and Remus eyes snapped back to the boy in front of him, alarmed—

—Just in time to see the smirk on his face.

And then he realised.

And then he let out a shuddering breath.

And then he said, "You're using me, aren't you? To show up your family, who obviously disapproves of someone like me?"

He doesn't know, he doesn't know, but still he—

A monster, that's all you are. That's all you'll ever be.

Hilarious, isn't it? You don't even need to be a werewolf for people to hate you.

Silly, stupid Remus. Did you get your hopes up? You forgot: YOU are the problem.

Sirius Black's smirk immediately dropped, and his face softened, "No, I just—"

"You never would have approached me of all the people here if it didn't trouble them, right?" Remus said, and he knew his voice was sharper than it should have been, but he didn't care. 

I knew deep down it couldn't be true, I knew it, so why does it trouble me?

"I-" Black looked very uncomfortable, "It's not like that, Remus!—"

Remus had had enough.

"Please—"

He turned with as much poise as he could muster, and then decided to abandon dignity altogether and just ran, ran straight up and through the nearest train entrance, struggling to lift his trunk along with him in his shattered state.

It's going to be okay, it's going to be okay, it's going to—

Remus put his luggage into a compartment storage rack and then climbed under a seat, out of clear sight, and stifled a sob.

But if Remus had looked back, he'd have seen Sirius Black's face crumple, eyes downcast. He'd have seen the face of a boy who'd meant no harm, and had rather enjoyed meeting someone new. The face of a boy who'd tried to milk the experience for something more; a chance to spite his family: but who had wanted a good friend more than that fleeting, sharp wish.

He'd have seen Sirius Black sit on the floor, avoiding his family's eyes, and mumble,

"—don't go."

But Remus had gone too fast to see it, and so it was alone he sat, invisible to the world, as minutes passed by until the train started moving.

It was later he realised he hadn’t said goodbye to his Mum.

But by then the train had left the station.

***

James had heard such fun tales of the journey to hogwarts: the run into an illusionary wall, the train full of new people and candies, the lake ride which in later years was replaced by chariots driven by invisible horses. And every time his father had told him those stories (his mother pitching in where he forgot a detail), James couldn't help but stare in amazement.

So the fact that he would now see and feel it all for himself, was, well…

Nerves inducing.

James noticed two girls standing by the apparently solid metal ticket box dividing Platforms Nine and Ten, presumably sisters, though they looked nothing alike. They appeared to be arguing.

One had bright, fiery red hair, while the other was pale blonde. The former would have looked quite pretty, actually, had she been smiling. The latter, however, had a long, thin neck, and a vulture-like face. That wasn't what made her unappealing, though; it was the loathing you could see pulsing in her face.

She seemed to be rather rude towards the redhead, who was holding her hands up placatingly. James watched quietly, though far away enough to not overhear their conversation, which despite its setting, he knew was meant to be private.

The redhead just gave a sad smile as the former turned about in a huff, a silent tear trickling down her cheek as she waved at the blonde with longing and hurt and regret.

James felt something clench in his chest and looked up at his warm, loving parents, and thought, She has it so much worse.

He stared at her for a minute, then decided to approach her later and try to befriend her.

James's eyes had only shifted slightly from her before another caught his eye.

A greasy, scowling man with such distaste and disgust plastered upon his face that he was painful to look at. His eyes were half-lidded, and he had a firm arm placed upon a younger boy's shoulders… who, frankly, looked like an exact copy of him. Or well, an almost exact copy except something was… off.

James was eleven years old and he did not know how an underfed child looked. He was eleven and his greatest fear was losing his Dad, so it simply didn't occur to him that for Severus Snape such a thing would be the greatest gift. It didn’t occur to him to check the other boy's trembling hands.

A mistake, yes, it was to judge so quickly. Perhaps things would have been very different had he not. But he did.

Still, had another child come to the same conclusion James did about the Snapes, he might have just steered clear.

Except James was a wannabe Gryffindor.

And he'd been told that was the house of the brave. The house of the fighters.

It is easy to forget as a child that being brave is not just fighting against anything that looks remotely evil.

James would understand this, in his own time, but for now he put the Snapes under the category of the "Bad guys," and dropped the matter there for future confrontations.

With a nod to his parents, James passed through the solid-seeming illusion and arrived at Platform nine and three quarters. To his surprise, the redheaded girl came alone, and so did the other greasy kid.

Putting aside the realisation that their relatives were probably muggles and so they might simply be having trouble adjusting to magic, James thought he needed a better identifier in his head than the 'greasy kid.' Such a marker was plain rude, and the other boy hadn't earned it. Yet.

James dallied about the platform as much as he could, meeting people here and there and taking note of the many people that had come to the station. When it was too risky to delay any further, he squeezed both his Mum and his Dad (who had made it here somehow, despite being racked with some sort of pain they would tell James nothingabout) in a hug and stepped on board with his trunk. The train began almost immediately after.

"I'll write. Take care," James called out to them, waving his hand in the air, "Keep me up to date!"

His parents smiled fondly at him and waved their hand in return. James grinned, and once they were out of sight, began exploring the train for a good compartment.

That was when he heard the quiet sobs.

James didn't know what to do. Should he go and check on whoever it was? Comfort them? Or should he give them the privacy they probably wanted? Spare them any supposed embarrassment that came with being walked in on while crying?

He sighed, and stepped into the compartment.

It was empty, but no— the sobs were still audible, more clear now without the door muffling them. James stared around for a moment, then realised.

Under the seat.

James sat on his knees, but didn't peek down. The crying immediately turned to weak-hearted stammers.

"Shhh, it's okay," James said, trying to imitate his Mum on the rare occasion he cried.

Moments passed into a minute, and the sniffling stopped completely.

"I'm James," James offered, when the silence was becoming too much for him, "What's your name?"

"R-Remus," the boy from underneath said timidly, and then, "If you're talking to me out of pity, don't. I don't want something fake."

James was a little taken aback, "Of course not. I heard you crying and felt it wrong to not check up on you, but that doesn't mean talking to you is out of pity. I don't have any friends here yet."

A thing that James was currently trying to remedy.

"Oh… okay," Remus said hesitantly, "Could you… move a little? I'm coming out."

"Right," said James, slightly embarrassed. He pushed himself upright and sat on the nearest seat.

Remus came out from underneath the opposite seat, and after staring at the floor for a few seconds, sat properly facing him. James was shocked at what he saw.

The boy had scars all over his face, many of which looked only weeks old. There were strange rashes across his skin, too, like those of an allergic reaction, and James realised with some horror those were the aftereffects of using some of the most potent healing charms and creams he'd heard of. His dad had them.

Was the thing that did this to Remus the reason he was crying? Either way, James was going to make it pay.

But first, there was some reassuring to do.

"Think I'm disgusting?" Remus said, his voice more resigned than anything.

"No, I'm just worried," James said anxiously, "Are you really okay? I think we have a nurse on board that you could look at if you wan—"

"No," said Remus, "I'm fine, really."

"Are… are you okay talking about what did that to you?" James said.

"No…" Remus said, and then, "But that's not why I'm upset, anyway, so don't worry."

That's not why?? What do you mean by that? Are these injuries… common for you?!

But James couldn't say any of that without disrespecting the boy's boundaries, so he just nodded.

"So, Remus," He cast about for a suitable get-to-know-you question, "What are you most excited about doing in Hogwarts?"

"Um, I don't know," Remus said, obviously thrown by the sudden turn in conversation, "Probably learning everything they can teach me? This is such a good opportunity, and I don't want to miss any chances, you know?"

James didn't know, but he thought he had a rough grasp of what he meant.

"I'm most interested in Transfiguration," James said thoughtfully, "and Flying, of course."

"Oh!" Said Remus, "Have you flown before?"

"Yes," James admitted, "we have a Quidditch Pitch at Potter Place, so I grew up with it. I really enjoy flying. It's kind of sad first years aren't allowed to join the Quidditch Teams."

Remus absorbed that and shrugged, "There's always next year. I'm sure you'll make it."

James stared at the boy who seemed to have regained his confidence amidst the normality of the conversation, and smiled.

"Thanks,"

Remus smiled back.

"Want anything from the trolley, dears?" Said the trolly witch his parents had told James about.

"Yes, please!" James said cheerfully, and peered down at the lot of candies before him, "Two Chocolate frogs, one fudge, and one vanilla cauldron cake."

He glanced at Remus, "Do you wanna take anything?"

Remus looked at the trolley with a blank expression and said finally, "Yeah, I'll take a lemon drop."

One never actually buyed just one lemon drop. They were bought in packs of four, usually, and when Remus took just the one and looked at it strangely before setting it next to a homemade meal he'd brought, James realised he might not have had too much money to spare.

Guilt clawed at him for asking. It might have been because of his inquiry that Remus bought it in the first place.

"Remus?" James said casually, and passed him a chocolate frog, "Try this."

When Remus looked like he was about to protest, James distracted him by saying, "D'you know they have a mystery card in the packet? You can play a sort of game with them. I'll show you once you're done!"

Sufficiently distracted, Remus looked down at the animated chocolate frog curiously.

James smiled a little in wonder, wondering just how different lives people were living. He couldn't imagine not being able to afford some snacks save for a homemade meal on a train ride that took all day.

They chatted affably for a some time, until the conversation turned to bigoted purebloods and the like. James didn't even remember how the topic had shifted so, but it had, and he was beginning to realise Remus knew next to nothing about which families he ought to be careful around.

Worried, he gave him a quick run down.

"So then you also have the Carrows," James shuddered, "and believe me, just stay away from them. They don't even bother trying to act good, and the only thing that's keeping them from lifetime sentences in Azkaban is the huge lump of gold they send to the Ministry whenever the situation gets particularly messy. The Ministry knows it. The whole of Wizarding Britain knows it. And yet it still works."

Remus had been surprised at first by the disgust in James' voice, but he thought he was beginning to understand where it came from.

"Erm, James…" Remus said, "What about… the Blacks?"

James' eyes widened slightly, but he just said, "They are part of the Sacred 28 too, and not the part you should get comfy with. They've been inbred to the point of madness, or so it is said, and their cruelty to those they think are inferior— which is mostly everyone —is almost unparalleled."

Remus grew rather pale.

"Remus?" James said carefully, "Did you meet one of them? Is that why you're asking?"

Remus didn't answer.

James placed a comforting arm on his thigh, "Did… they say something to you? Or do something?"

"N-no," Remus said quietly, "Not really."

There was a customary alerting knock on the door, before which it was pulled open to reveal two boys with shoulder length hair curled at the ends. They both had delicate pureblood features with grey eyes . Grey eyes with the signature sheen of House Black.

James got up and involuntarily found himself in front of Remus.

***

"Sirius?" Orion said sharply.

Sirius looked up at him unwillingly.

"I expect you," said Orion, "To mingle with the right sort. And if I find it not so… I shall be very disappointed. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

There was a tremble in his hands that Sirius desperately wished would stop, but since it wouldn't, the best he could do was ignore it.

"Of course, Father," Sirius drawled.

Walburga's eyes narrowed at the sudden compliance. Sirius wondered idly if his parents had ever heard the term " sarcasm ", then decided it was better for him that they hadn't.

A few more warnings, and then Sirius had escaped from his family's clutches. Now, to make some friends.

Sirius looked about for someone not already busy with something, and was surprised at how few weren't. He approached the first he found: a lean, sandy haired boy keenly observing the families around him.

The closer he got, the more alarm bells rang in Sirius' head. The boy before him was covered in terrible scars, many of which didn't look too old; But still he was here, like this was a part of everyday life, instead of lying at a hospital somewhere. He was trembling, and alone. He was scared, and still smiling.

Sirius Black decided he liked this kid.

The boy was staring at the Carrows with shock and abject horror, so that was a bonus. He didn't know them, which meant he didn't know the Sacred 28, so he wasn't a pureblood. That was all Sirius needed to have his dear parents gritting teeth.

He halted behind the boy and greeted him. The boy introduced himself as Remus.

And then Sirius ruined it.

He knew it wasn't fair to use Remus to push his parents' buttons, but he couldn't help it.

They were right there, in hearing range, scowling in open distaste at his behaviour, and all Sirius could think was you don't control me anymore. You thought I'd make friends with people like the Malfoys? That I was too scared to disobey your orders? Watch. Me.

And he asked Remus his blood status. He could see his father's approval, and the second it vanished when Remus asked if it mattered. Sirius suppressed a smirk.

He would have dropped it there. He did drop it there, except when he heard Remus' surname, he couldn't help but push. The last time Sirius had been cursed by his father happened because he had told him a werewolf was less a monster than him. 'Lupin' was linked to wolves. It wasn't really connected, but he knew it was the sort of taunt that would have his father frothing with rage.

And Sirius would do anything to see it, now that there was a train he could escape into to hide. He knew it was stupid, he knew his parents could just withdraw him from Hogwarts if it came to that, but somehow the thought of months away from them was giving him foolish courage.

And then Remus had realised, only he'd assumed the worst. Sirius couldn't blame him, because he understood.

But… But it hadn't been the truth. Sirius would have met him, talked to him and gotten to know him even if his parents hadn't been there watching. Even if his surname wasn't Lupin. Even if he hadn't thought him a muggleborn. Because those things didn't matter.

What mattered was making a true friend. What mattered was being a good person. It was just that, to Sirius, hurting his parents for all that they had done to him, for all that they did to those that they didn't consider ' human enough' mattered too.

But Remus didn't know that, and Sirius couldn’t explain fast enough, so he just felt his face crumple as the boy who might have been his first friend ran up one of the train entryways with his trunk creaking behind him.

He stared at the floor for a few minutes, blinking away the stupid moisture that was threatening to condense into water.

You idiot , The voice in his head said, You absolute idiot .

First real chance at friendship you ever had and this is how you mess it up.

Maybe you should just give up.

He slowly walked to a corner and leaned by a pillar, suddenly tired.

Sirius didn’t know how long he sat there, just staring at the floor and blinking the stupid, stupid tears away.

Suddenly someone crouched in front of him, and Sirius looked up, startled, straight into the grey eyes of—

Reg.

"Sirius?" Regulus asked, concerned.

Sirius let loose a breath. For a second he thought he'd been looking into his father's eyes. For a second he'd forgotten to breathe.

He quickly pushed himself upright, "Reggie? What are you doing here?"

Reg raised his eyebrows, "Um, I was looking for you?"

Right.

Sirius mustered a smile, "Thought you'd forgotten me."

"I'm pretty sure it was the other way round."

Sirius barked a laugh at that.

"So, wanna find a compartment?" Reg asked.

Sirius had a slight pain in his chest as he realised — "Will it have company our parents would approve of? 'Cause I'm sorry, Reg, but I can't…. Not with those bigoted mess of a—" He started muttering.

Regulus just raised an eyebrow, "Well, it won't be company our parents would completely disapprove of, but I wasn't planning on sitting with the Avery nutcase either."

Sirius stared at him. Reg's shoulders reached closer to his ears.

Sirius burst out laughing.

"Who-" — another laugh — "are you, and what have you done to Regulus Black?" Sirius wheezed out, still laughing, "Reggie Black doesn't call people nutcases. He doesn't make fun of Mum's precious regular guests, either."

To another, the words might have been rude, but to Regulus it was only eye-opening about himself. It was something that made him regret in a good way,, but feel a little prideful, too. He suspected that Sirius knew this, however clueless he may seem to other's feelings. Sirius, for all the eccentricities and jest in his pick of words, knew what to say to who.

He just, Regulus thought amusedly, didn't use the ability much.

Not as much as Regulus would have. Not enough to keep him out of trouble. It was exasperating, but then again, Sirius always was; he chose to be. And in the end his jester aura always managed to work out, so who was Regulus to complain, really?

"Do I really seem so… submissive all the time?" Reg asked him.

"Don't take it from me, Reg. Do I look like I know the meaning of that word?"

"Sirius, I'm being serious—"

A pause.

"No, not that joke again—" Reg growled at the same time Sirius said,

"But Reggie, you can't be Sirius! I'm Sirius!"

"You know what, I'm outta here—"

Sirius lunged forward and squeezed Regulus' palm, "Ok, sorry. Let's go find a compartment."

Reg was surprised at the sudden apology. He'd only been joking and Sirius should have known that, so why was he—

Oh.

He was scared.

He didn't want to be alone.

Regulus ran his other hand across his forehead and wondered why fate hadn't made him the older brother when it expected him to act like one.

Still, as he steered Sirius past compartment after compartment, idly commenting about how their parents would throw a fit when they found out they passed right by the Carrows and Malfoys without greeting them, Regulus found he didn’t mind.

As for Sirius, he just watched his little brother fondly and with a strange sadness, a small part of him wondering what he would do if it was night out, and there was no Regulus star to light his path.

"—They've been inbred to the point of madness, or so it is said, and their cruelty to those they think are inferior— which is mostly everyone —is almost unparalleled," Said a voice from inside a compartment.

"Remus?" It said again, "Did you meet one of them? Is that why you're asking?"

There was no response, and Sirius found his heart hammering hard in his chest. Remus. It was that boy he'd hurt. Were they talking about the Blacks?

Were they talking about him?

Sirius had stopped walking, automatically stopping Regulus, who turned to look at him quizzically. His gaze sharpened when he saw Sirius waiting for the next words they would hear coming from within the nearest compartment.

"Did… they say something to you? Or do something?" The first boy asked.

"N-no," Remus said quietly, "Not really."

Sirius swallowed. He had to clear up this misunderstanding, hehad to—

He did a perfunctory knock at the door before stepping in, looking every inch remorseful as he felt.

Behind him Regulus muttered, "Annnd we're back to company that'll send us howlers at best. This just keeps getting better and better. "

Sirius' eyes had asked him a silent question that he only caught a moment later: is this fine? We'll go away if it isn't.

Regulus stared. He stared, swallowed, and gave the smallest of nods.

They turned and faced the other two boys as one.

"Er, Hi," Sirius said to Remus, "I- earlier, I-I wasn't-I didn't approach you just to prove a point. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I genuinely wanted to be friends. Still want to, if you are okay with that. It's just—"

"—It's just that he's an idiot and sometimes forgets not to play two cards at once when each are important enough to be given their own time," Regulus finished.

Sirius shrugged sheepishly, "What he said."

Remus looked at them both with surprise and obvious disbelief, so Sirius tried collecting himself a little better. It was unlike him to get this tongue-tied. Then again, his only interactions with children his age before had been at pureblood galas; everything stifled and 'proper,' and he'd thrived there because of his witty charm, until at some point his parents stopped pushing him to suppress it. At that point, Sirius started hating that charm.

It was foolish to change yourself because a quality of yours was something a person you dislike respected. If the cruellest, or most delusional person thought the sky blue, it didn’t make it green.

And Sirius was, well, working on that, but he wasn’t quite there yet, so anything his parents would like him to be, or approve of him being, he baulked at becoming.

Sirius looked at Remus, ignoring the other boy in the compartment who'd been disparaging the Blacks temporarily, and said, "I really am sorry if I came across like that, Remus. I was in a bad headspace, and I don't get along well with my parents and their beliefs in general, as you might have noticed. I just… wanted to show them that I'm not afraid of being friends with you."

When Remus looked puzzled at the last statement, Regulus clarified, "Some of seemingly prejudiced pureblood family heirs actually do make friends with muggleborns and half bloods, only they choose to keep it a secret to avoid strong backlash from their parents. Other times the entire family decides they want no part in prejudice, and so are branded "blood traitors." It is very, very rare that an Heir would declare open disagreement with their families' beliefs, and usually doesn't end well,'' Regulus swallowed, "You'll find that most of those Heirs come back to Hogwarts after a summer home broken and defeated."

Sirius' head immediately snapped to Regulus', and saw his hands shivering.

Hell. What have I done?

"Regulus, no !" Sirius had whispered urgently, even as Walburga opened door after door, looking for him, "It's a no, you hear me? Don't do anything."

The door slammed open, Walburga's smile steely sharp, "Oh, Sirius. You should have known this was coming."

Sirius was supposed to protect him. It had always been about protecting him, so what had gotten into him recently, that he'd started pushing Reg to join in on his defiance? Had he forgotten where it could take one? Had he forgotten— pain. Stop hurting. Make it STOP— the agony that could come with it?

How had he?!

What had he been going through his head—

Nothing had, Sirius realised. He had just wanted him around.

He hadn’t wanted them to split like they would have to, if Reg became what Walburga and Orion wanted him to be. He didn't want that hurt, on top of everything else.

He is all I have, Sirius thought, how could I be so stupid that I would risk having him hurt , for keeping him with me?

How could I be soselfish?

"Just a minute," He said to the boys who had been sitting in the compartment earlier, until he'd barged in for his selfish need for forgiveness and dragged Reg along with him.

Sirius took Reg's arm, and steered them out of the compartment and into another, empty one.

They both sat, but for some reason, neither could get a word out.

You'll find that most of those Heirs come back to Hogwarts after a summer home broken and defeated .

They stared and stared, until one of them— it didn't matter who —broke into sobs, and the other followed a second later.

"I'm…Sorry…" Sirius managed, "Just. Stay. Safe."

That apology doesn't cut it you MORON—

What was he going to do, if word of Regulus passing by the pureblood heirs and their compartments without acknowledging them reached Mother and Father? What could he do?

Regulus gave a half-laugh half-sob, "You idiot. If I want to stop, it's not too late for it. Missing some greetings and stepping into the wrong compartment can be excused easily enough."

Sirius stopped sniffing, "But…?

"But I don't want to stop." Regulus said, "Y-You're right, you were always right. I've-I've never felt this free before in all my life."

Sirius didn’t know what to say, so he just pulled Reg in a hug.

When he pulled back, there was some of his old charm back on his face.

"So. What do you wanna do?"

"How about we go back, seeing as you said we were only going for a minute."

"Getting cheeky, are we?"

That moment had changed their lives, and both of them knew it.

***

Peter shot his grandmother a look, and she finally stopped snapping courtesies to follow and manipulation techniques to remember under her breath.

Really, Peter thought, how was he supposed to bring back the Pettigrew name if this was the current state of the House?

"I understood, Grandmother," He said, and she sniffed.

"Go along, then," Kaylee Pettigrew said imperiously, "And chin up, boy."

Peter did just that before making his way into the train.

Once in, however, he let his chin drop and his bangs fall over his forehead. Now much more comfortable, he thought back to the bustling platform behind him.

He'd have liked to stay, perhaps explore a little, but then Grandmother would be there, watching and judging him not-so-silently.

But he did remember his first impression, and he held onto that: there had been so many people, all different in their own way, yet still grinning at random strangers and nudging others into making friends. There might not have been the decorum and grace Kaylee expected, for that was something only a select few old lines chose to maintain. But it was warm, and it was welcoming, and Peter enjoyed that.

He wished he could have stayed.

Peter decided to not upset himself over it further and explore the train for a seat. He passed compartment after compartment, discarding it for some excuse or the other. He was just nervous, in truth, not that he would ever admit it.

Peter was nervous, and so he didn't realise someone stepped out of a compartment the same time he passed it, causing them both to bump into each other. Looking back, even without the nerves it would have been difficult for him to notice and pause in time to prevent it. Peter stumbled back.

"Watch where you're going," A voice said sharply, and Peter recognized it as the person he'd bumped into. The girl was tall and menacing, with a green and silver tie that had been set loosely against her uniform, upon which hung a badge with the silvered words "PREFECT".

"Sorry," Peter said genuinely.

The girl looked at him for a moment, and it took no genius to realise that she was disgusted at what she saw, "Whatever, rat-face."

How awfully rude.

That would have been what Peter had thought, had his grandmother not just said something similar to him before parting. That would have been the kind of cool, even response he wished he could muster.

But all he could think was: What?

No.

Not here.

Not ever again.

His thoughts were jumbled but somehow that was grounding him. It was going to be okay, that was just one person—

Peter stumbled blindly into a carriage until he realised it wasn't a carriage because it was too small— too small—

Peter blinked, and realised he was in a bathroom stall. He took a good look at his reflection.

He splashed some water on his face and gasped.

A fresh start.

It was a few minutes before he could emerge from the loo, but when he did, he was much calmer. Peter went on with his search for a good seat. The train had departed during his… break, so there wasn't too much time to spare.

He passed by a particularly loud compartment, and wondered if he could ever fit in with such a rambunctious crowd. He peered through the window set in the door and saw four boys seated. Two of them looked like brothers, while another bespectacled boy listened to one of their stories with interest. But it was the fourth boy Peter spotted first, all the more because he was so quiet, only smiling at what was a good joke or an enthusiastic retelling. He had scars all over his body, Peter realised with some horror. Whatever had caused it, it must have hurt like hell.

He debated on whether or not to join them, if only to know that kid, but ultimately decided to explore more and come back again if he couldn’t find something better.

By something better, he meant more quiet.

This resolve broke almost immediately, as a few compartments later, Peter was compelled to stop when he peered through the compartment window.

The compartment was decidedly not quiet.

But one person there was .

The children, Peter realised, were the Carrows triplets, two of which were talking sharply to the one seated in between them— a girl. She, like her sister, had light brown hair, though hers seemed to be leached of colour and… dried? Lifeless? Peter didn't know. And then he blinked, and the hair looked good as new. Peter frowned.

He focused again, and once more the hair resumed its older, miserable form.

A glamour!? Peter thought with surprise. He had always had a keen interest in such spells, for for whatever reason, he was… immune to them. Or at least, less susceptible than most. When Peter had found out, he'd buried himself in books on the topic. He'd tried to witness as many glamours in action— most from the Pettigrew vault in Gringotts —and now he knew to detect the feel of them.

This was a glamour.

And it hurt to think why it was needed.

The girl looked like how Peter thought he would look around his grandmother if he let his guard down. If he thought it was okay to show it.

She'd rather be anywhere but here.

He couldn’t leave her alone there after seeing that.

Peter grit his teeth at himself before putting on a polite smile as he opened the door after a traditional pureblood knock to announce an entry: two swift raps followed by another two done at half the speed.

Immediately the three siblings stiffened, and Peter slid open the door.

"Ah, the Ancient House of Carrow," Peter said suavely, and in a rather creepy imitation of Abraxas Malfoy at their rare shared dinners (grandmother always had to beg), "How interesting."

That had them keeping their mouths shut. Though Peter might not look like a pureblood Heir, he had just perfectly imitated both their customs and style of speech. They didn't know who he was yet, so they wouldn't dare take the risk of offending him.

At least, that's what Peter hoped.

Oh this is so not going to work…

Peter felt like a silly boy trying to play pretend, but showing such a feeling wouldn't help, so he did his best to keep it in.

"Which House are we addressing?" Amycus, the only boy of the three, said gruffly.

"Ah, my apologies," Peter said (too many 'ah's. Seriously, how are they buying this act?!? Did all pureblood families really sound like this?) "You are before the last scion and Heir to the Exalted House of Deventier."

He couldn't get away with naming any of the ancient and noble houses, as the Carrows would know each family member of a House by heart, but he could claim to be of an exalted house.

Exalted Houses were Houses elevated in social standing and offered a great deal of Wizengamot votes for service rendered to the community. Certain martyrs. Powerful leaders. That sort of thing. Peter's grandfather, Deventier Pettigrew, fell in the former category, but the Carrows needn't know that. Not yet, anyway.

Besides, this was pure guesswork on Peter's behalf. Grandmother had always gone on about how Grandfather had contributed greatly to the war against Grindelwald and paid with his life for it. An Exalted House was named after the person who'd earned it, and while the number of Wizengamot votes offered to them wasn't as much as an Ancient and Noble House, it was equal to that of an Ancient House. Like the Carrows.

The Carrow triplets might not have known all of this, but they knew what their father had told them: to respect anyone with as much or more political power as them, lest they earn his ire when disrespect came to bite them back.

And Peter? He was just internally chuckling at how well his frantically thought of idea was working. When he had time later, he would really have to see about claiming his supposed-Exalted House heirship.

It was a wonder that despite being so obsessed with fame and social power, Grandmother had never talked about Exalted Houses more than a quick overview of what they meant.

"Ah," said the girl at the right neutrally ( again with the ' ah 's! ), "Take a seat, Heir Deventier. What brings you to our cabin?"

Peter racked his brain hurriedly, "Need I a reason, to meet potential future allies?"

Gosh, he hated this fancy talk and the way it tasted on his tongue.

Think. Focus! Give some excuse to get that girl out of here!

"Perhaps even future family, " Peter said, curling his lips and sending a not-so-veiled look towards the girl slumped in the middle, looking at him strangely.

Unsurprisingly, Amycus and the other triplet smirked at the proposition, disgusting beings that they were.

What was wrong with them?!? They were eleven for Merlin's sake—

Peter returned their smirk, and feeling like vermin himself, said, "Pardon me, but I'd like to take some time to get to know this lovely young woman. Her name?"

"Alice," the Carrow girl next to her said, "Be a good girl and go and entertain our new acquaintance."

Alice stared at him for a moment, before standing gracefully and placing her hand in his proffered one.

"I shall take your leave," Peter said to the other two, before making his way out of the compartment.

One step out.

The sound of the door sliding shut.

Two steps away.

Three…

Out of sight.

Peter let loose an audible breath and distangled himself from the girl. Alice Carrow stood by his side, her lips tugging upwards a little.

"Not bad acting," she said, and her voice was very, very timid. Small. "But how did you know? That I needed to get out of there? Actually, why did you help me?"

"No offence, but you aren't exactly subtle about it," Peter said, then softened at her withering face, "A caged bird recognizes another, I think. And as for why, well, what sort of person would I be if I didn't?"

He realised how much he meant those words as he said them.

A caged bird recognizes another.

It showed in how Alice knew he had been putting on an act.

I have lived in a cage, haven't I?

Would he ever be able to break free?

"Ah, well," Peter said, adding the 'ah' for humour, "Let us find a compartment, fair lady."

Alice's half-smile was back, and they trudged past a couple of compartments, discarding them for the fact that several other bigoted purebloods were already seated there.

Peter paused once again at the compartment where he'd seen the scarred boy. He remembered wishing to go in there.

But if Peter had paused, Alice had frozen. She was looking through the window with fear.

"What is it?" Peter asked.

"We're not sitting here, right?" Alice said quietly and seemingly calm, but he could hear the plea in her voice.

"Why?"

"The Potters. They're…" Alice's voice dropped so much he had to strain to hear it, "blood traitors. I don't know what Sirius and Regulus are thinking sitting with him. Do they want to die?!— "

"Shh," Peter said when he realised she was working herself into a fit.

"It's your choice," He said calmly, "but tell me, what do you think happens if you go and find one of the sacred 28 which your father won't hate you sitting with, but you find a little more bearable in your family? Is that the kind of life you want to live?"

Alice had no answer. Or rather, she did, but she couldn't say it.

"No, of course not. Scratch that," Peter answered his own question, 'But I said a caged bird recognizes another. How long are you going to be in that cage because you are frightened of falling in the process of learning how to fly?"

Peter knew it wasn't fair, that one couldn't just overcome years of ingrained fear, that Alice was trying…

But sometimes saying you were trying wasn't enough.

He knew he was talking about himself, too.

Peter realised with a sharp intake of breath that he'd made her cry.

Dammit–

Alice wiped her tears away and clutched his hand tightly, before sliding the door to the compartment open.

"I-uh-hello," Alice said to the group in front of them, looking at them assessingly.

" Ah, " Peter said, thoroughly enjoying the word, "Sorry for the disturbance. Can we join you?"

" Is that the Carrow girl?! " Two out of four said. The other two just stared in befuddled horror.

Peter stepped right in front of her, "Yes. She's not with her family, though, or she wouldn't be here with us. Got a problem?"

***

"Petunia, please, " Lily said softly, but she knew before she finished that it wouldn't work. She had begged before, crumpled to the floor even, but Tuney, her sister, hadn't listened. "Don't let this be the end. I know things have been messed up for a while between us but we can still mend this —"

"You decided what you wanted when you packed your bags for this freak school," Petunia said bitterly, "And now you say it's not too late?"

"It's never too late," Lily said, "I'll forget everything so far, Petunia, just, let's be like before. We're strong enough to not be broken apart by something like this." Please. Tell me I'm right.

Petunia's throat was choking up, "...Fine."

Lily's heart rose, " Thank you, Tuney–"

"Don't go to this freak school," Petunia ordered, "And I'll try and forget everything up until now."

Her spirits, which had been rising with disbelieving yet joyous hope, turned and twisted into something nasty.

" What? " Lily whispered sharply.

"You heard me, Lily," Petunia said, and now her voice was strangely desperate, "It can be like it was, just, don't give yourself up to this witchcraft nonsense—"

"It's my life, " Lily said incredulously, "It's who I am, Petunia! You-you want me to hide that part of myself in a boot cupboard somewhere out of some petty jealousy? "

Petunia's fierce scowl was back, "I could never be jealous of being a freak like you.  But I was foolish, yes. I thought I could expect better from you. I was wrong." She took a menacing step forward, "Go to your little school, Lily. Go to your little school, and tell me I'm right. They will step on you and crush you, because you don't belong in either world. That's what I hadn't realised. So go, freak. Go and cry and never come back! "

Petunia huffed and turned about leaving her standing there, shaking, a silent tear trickling down her cheek. Lily hurriedly wiped it away.

She's wrong, she's wrong —

Lily took a deep breath, and then another. She felt oddly light-headed and disoriented. She shook the feeling off as her parents, who had been looking at wizards and witches passing through the platform barrier with awed interest, came closer to her.

"This is amazing, Lily!" Paul Evans said, "Just amazing!"

Julie Evans, Lily's mother and the shocked man's wife, squeezed her shoulder and said, "We'll miss you."

Paul smiled even wider, "Have a great time, yeah Lily?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"Say, where's Petunia?"

Lily didn't answer.

Julie sighed, "I'm sure she'll come around, Lily. For your benefit, not hers, don't take her words to heart, okay?"

Lily managed a nod.

They both kissed her forehead.

"We love you, child,"

"Your mother more than I— Ow!"

Lily hid a smile with her hand, before waving to them and taking a deep breath.

A second before setting off on a run towards the barrier, she stole a glance with Severus. He was a little way off standing next to his father, who had a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Lily tried not to grin, her sadness over her argument with Petunia forgotten for the time being.

His father could not cross the barrier— only wizards could. Severus would be free after this. His Dad couldn't hurt him.

Lily was then innocent, so she did not know that it would be some time before Severus Snape would know any freedom at all.

She ran at the barrier— and straight through.

And not a minute later, Severus followed.

"Sev!" Lily exclaimed, pulling him in for a hug.

"Lily," Sev said, a small, embarrassed smile gracing his features, "How are you?"

“I’m well, as you can see,” Lily said, beaming, “and very excited!”

“Me too,” He said, the smile not quite growing, but not shrinking, either.

“Let’s go find a compartment,” She said, holding his hand and looking for an entrance not yet crowded. Severus pointed to just such a carriage door, smirking at the huff she released. He really was too observant.

They hauled their trunks up and climbed the few steps into the train, still grinning like idiots.

“So,” Lily said.

“So.” said Severus.

“Well…” She looked around, “I can’t believe we’re really here. This all seems like a dream.”

“It isn’t, though,” Severus said, and though she knew he meant to be dry, she could hear a plea in his voice too. Please don’t let it be a dream.

She knew he had a terrible home life, but it was times like this that reminded her that she could never understand it, unless she had lived it herself. Which was why Lily never pretended she knew what it was to live Sev’s life, only encouraged him to believe in himself and was there for a hug when he needed it.

“I know,” she said warmly, “and I'm glad for it. C’mon, let’s go find a compartment.”

They did just that, stepping into the first one that still had room for two.

“I hope you’re in Slytherin,” said Severus after they’d been seated, “I’m not sure I could go to any other house.”

“Slytherin?”

One of the boys sharing the compartment, who had been engrossed in another discussion, looked around at the word, while three others stiffened (Remus and Peter the only one who hadn’t, though the latter looked wary on account of the young girl still clutching his hand), “Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” James asked no one in particular. His face only grew more dark as he recognised the boy from the scowling father-son pair he’d seen by the platform barrier.

“Our whole family has been in Slytherin,” Regulus Black said a little sharply.

“Blimey,” said James, smiling even though his head was a whirlwind of confusion, “and I thought you and your brother seemed all right!”

Sirius grinned, “Maybe we’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?”

James lifted an invisible sword.

“’Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!’ Like my dad.”

Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

“Got a problem with that?”

“No,” said Severus, though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy—”

“Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

“What’s wrong with Slytherin?” She said sharply, and her tone was no-nonsense.

“’There wasn’t a single wizard who turned dark who wasn’t in Slytherin’,” James said, “That’s a quote taken word to word from The Rift of Lions and Snakes ,”

“Clearly, that’s the only book you’ve ever read,” Lily said, “Because it is expressly stated in the Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, a bestseller, by the way, that Emeric the Evil, one of the most feared dark lords to ever be, was a Gryffindor. Ekrizdis, the guy who created Azkaban, was a Ravenclaw. Even Hufflepuffs have created dark wizards, they just don’t like to admit it. None of  you do; which is why you’ve picked the easiest scapegoat: a house which values ambition and cunning and knowing when to keep your head down instead of bandying about with a hero-complex. It doesn’t mean we can’t be brave, loyal, or clever— it just means we know when to be.”

She took a deep breath, “Your house doesn’t decide whether you’re good or evil. That’s just you. And it’s also you who decides whether a simple school sorting is something you’re going to let get in the way of getting to know good people.” Her voice softened, but it still seemed to resonate in everyone’s head, “Might I remind you, Merlin was a Slytherin. And if it means more to you, so was Albus Dumbledore’s mother.”

Lily was breathless, but never had she been so exhilarated. All that study about wizarding history, their beliefs and stigmas had paid off. She’d been troubled, at first, when she’d learned about the bias against muggleborns, but here she was, reminding them of their own history, and the ones that weren’t too busy being stunned were actually considering her words.

“Your name?” she asked the bespectacled boy who’d started all this.

“James Potter,”

“So was your bias anything more than that; a bias, Potter?” Lily asked, eyebrows raised, “Or is there something else you’d like to tell me about Slytherin House?”

“I… agree that the quote might be wrong,” James said, “But that doesn’t redeem the house. Maybe the idea of a Slytherin house isn’t bad, but its current state definitely is. You could swap its name with the house of bigots and no one would notice the difference, and that’s the current reality. Maybe you didn’t know that, and maybe you just valued the same values Slytherin house boasts, but that is the truth. So yes, what I have is more grounded than a bias, and I was telling the truth when I said I’d rather leave.” He realised his voice had hardened and humbled it, “No one deserves to be treated like they are not human. And your friend over there,” He nodded at Snape, “Will either become every bit the bigot Slytherins are now, or regret his choice should he go to Slytherin.”

Lily didn’t know what to say. She now realised that the look in the boy’s eyes wasn’t malice, but a slightly misplaced concern.

Severus looked shaken, and Lily knew what he was thinking.

No one deserves to be treated like they are not human.

That was what she’d told him when he’d tried to defend his family’s actions against him. She knew how much those words meant to Sev.

“And your friend over there will either become every bit the bigot Slytherins are now, or regret his choice should he go to Slytherin.”

“I hope you’re in Slytherin. I’m not sure I could go to any other house.”

What would Severus do? Lily didn’t know, so she took his arm gently and pulled him out of the cabin.

“Now now,” She said softly, “Deep breaths, c’mon.”

Inside the cabin, James stared at his hands, not sure what he was supposed to think anymore.

Emeric the Evil, one of the most feared dark lords to ever be, was a Gryffindor.

…which is why you’ve picked the easiest scapegoat: a house which values ambition and cunning and knowing when to keep your head down instead of bandying about with a hero-complex .

What was he supposed to think?

To his left sat Sirius, to whom the conversation hadn’t meant much; both sides had been right, but his venom for Slytherin House hadn’t diminished in the slightest. He didn’t care what Slytherin House was supposed to be; what it was now mattered, and his parents and the Carrows and every snot-nosed sacred 28 that went there was the perfect example of what it was. He had voiced it as a simple maybe to James, but the truth was much more clear: he would never go there.

To Sirius’s other side was Regulus, who was just shaking.

Maybe the idea of a Slytherin house isn’t bad, but its current state definitely is. You could swap its name with the house of bigots and no one would notice the difference, and that’s the current reality.

Sirius had been right, but Regulus knew there was no way he could go anywhere else—

It doesn’t mean we can’t be brave, loyal, or clever— it just means we know when to be.

He’d be damned if anything had ever fit him better. Reg put his head in his hands and tried not to peek at the brother who would surely hate him after all was said and done.

Opposite them sat Remus, who just stared out the window and wondered at how prevalent bias was in the wizarding world. You didn’t need to be a monster like him to earn it, you could get it just because of the circumstances of your birth or the house you wanted to enjoy at Hogwarts. Those people didn’t deserve the hate by that label alone. The redhead had been right— it was the people that defined themselves.

Well, that was not true in his case, but it worked for the others, he knew. They wouldn’t automatically be prone to hurting others and scarring or killing them for life because they weren’t of ‘good’ blood or house.

Remus sighed and tried to ignore the headache building behind his temples.

Alice Carrow, on the other hand, had completely shrivelled up when the conversation took a turn to criticise Slytherins. The more her company opposed what her family stood for, the harsher her punishment would be, she knew.

She was trying to calm her panic and desperately failing, and—

Peter Pettigrew was reassuringly squeezing her hand in silent question, and Alice took a moment to understand, and—

—the two of them got up from their seats, Peter making a grand show of remarking, “We prefer company with better taste,” to the seated boys, and left out the door.

They caught up with Severus and Lily soon enough, and even though the company wasn’t those of purebloods, Alice knew Peter had just saved her from terrible backlash. When the word of the argument would spread— and it would, this was Hogwarts —Alice would not be counted on the other boys’ side in her parents’ eyes.

James Potter had said terrible, terrible things about Slytherin, and to her parents she had not agreed.

The sickening feeling hadn’t gone away, however, because every. word. had. been. true.

Still, she smiled in thanks at Peter, who had helped her twice today, and indulged in timid small-talk with Lily Evans (Severus Snape grumbling in the background). She was very nice once you got to know her.

Peter stared at her, before shaking his head slightly.

He didn’t know what was right or what was wrong. He didn’t really care. Let the others argue over it all; he was just here to learn and grow.

He glanced back at Alice again and felt his lips curve upwards when Lily drew a smile out of her.

And make friends.