Fractured Loyalities

The wind howled in Sirius Black’s ears as he sprinted alongside the other Dauntless initiates, the pounding of their footsteps lost in the roar of the oncoming train. The world around him blurred—the grey, lifeless buildings of the city flashed by in the distance, but his attention was fixed on the rusted steel tracks beneath his feet and the massive metal train hurtling towards them.

This is what he wanted. The rush, the speed, the sense that every decision mattered. The world of Erudite, where every moment was planned and every risk calculated, was now behind him. But as much as Sirius tried to shake the feeling of freedom, a small knot of guilt twisted in his gut.

Regulus.

His brother’s voice calling his name at the Choosing Ceremony still echoed in his mind. Sirius had been so determined, so sure, when he’d reached out to choose Dauntless. His hand had trembled, not from fear but from the sheer exhilaration of breaking away from everything his family stood for. But he hadn’t expected the look in Regulus’ eyes—a mix of betrayal and confusion.

There was no going back. His family would never forgive him.

He didn’t care.

Or at least, he told himself he didn’t. The truth, buried somewhere deep beneath his bravado, was messier. Sirius had felt the moment his mother’s gaze had cut through him, cold as ice, when he reached out to choose Dauntless over the path that had been laid out for him in Erudite. He could still picture her tight-lipped, disapproving expression. Walburga Black had always ruled the Black family with an iron fist, and she’d expected him to fall in line like Regulus. To play the part of the dutiful son.

But Sirius wasn’t built for duty. He was built for rebellion.

There was no turning back now. His parents hadn’t even bothered to look at him when he made his choice. He was dead to them, and a part of Sirius wondered if that would be easier to live with than the idea that he had left Regulus behind.

“Keep up!” one of the Dauntless’ leaders shouted from the front, her voice barely audible over the train’s deafening approach. “If you fall behind, you’re out.”

Out. Sirius gritted his teeth and forced his legs to move faster. His lungs burned with each breath, but the rush of the wind and the thrill of the chase made the pain bearable.

James was right beside him, long legs easily keeping pace. They had hardly exchanged a word since the Ceremony, but the intensity in James’ face told Sirius that he was in it now. The same boy he used to sneak out with in the dead of night was here, by his side, ready to face the unknown. Sirius hadn’t expected that. A part of him had thought James might stay in Amity, tied to the safety of home, but here he was. Dauntless.

The train roared into view, barreling down the tracks. Its size dwarfed them, massive and intimidating. The sound of grinding metal filled the air as it hurtled past, and Sirius knew it wouldn’t slow down. The Dauntless didn’t wait for anyone. They were expected to jump.

“You better be ready for this,” James muttered beside him, his voice breathless but excited.

Sirius grinned, unable to hide the thrill that coursed through him. “This is what we signed up for, right?”

“Right.”

The train sped past, and Sirius could see the open doors ahead, a few Dauntless already reaching for them, pulling themselves up with ease. The moment was coming—the leap that would solidify his place here. He felt the tension building in his chest, not fear, but anticipation. The kind of moment he had dreamed of when he imagined breaking free from his family’s suffocating expectations.

Sirius took a deep breath and pushed off, sprinting toward the speeding train. The world blurred as the wind rushed past his ears. Time seemed to slow as the gap between him and the train grew smaller and smaller.

And then, just as the car passed, Sirius leapt.

The impact hit hard, his hands gripping the edge of the train as his body swung wildly for a second. He grunted, his arms straining to pull himself up, the iron biting into his palms. With a grunt of effort, he hauled himself onto the roof of the car, rolling to his feet.

The wind roared, and up ahead, Sirius spotted James Potter pulling himself inside the train, his glasses askew and a manic grin plastered on his face. He looked like he was having the time of his life. That was James—always ready for the next thrill.

Sirius grinned, but then his eyes caught movement to his left. A boy, small and pale, was struggling to hold on to the side of the train, his face twisted with fear. His grip was slipping, his fingers barely clutching the handle.

"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered under his breath, watching as the boy's legs wobbled, his terror clear in every shaky movement.

He didn’t know the kid—just another initiate like him. His clothes were plain, the black-and-white of Candor standing out even in the chaos. But Sirius didn’t need to know him to see that he was about to fall.

“Oi!” Sirius shouted, pushing himself closer to the boy. “You’re gonna fall if you don’t jump!”

The boy’s wide eyes met his, filled with panic. He didn’t respond—just shook his head, as if the very idea of jumping was impossible.

Sirius cursed under his breath and reached out his hand. “Come on! Take my hand, and I’ll pull you up!”

The boy hesitated, his hand trembling as he reached for Sirius’ outstretched arm. Their fingers brushed, but the boy lost his grip on the train. His feet slipped, and for a split second, he dangled in midair, a scream caught in his throat.

Sirius lunged forward, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him back toward the train. The boy gasped, his face pale as a sheet as Sirius pulled him up with all the strength he had.

“Gotcha!” Sirius grunted, hauling him inside. They both collapsed onto the train floor, the boy panting and shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Sirius sat back, catching his breath, and glanced over at him. “You alright?”

The boy nodded weakly, his eyes still wide with lingering terror. “Yeah,” he managed to croak out, his voice barely a whisper. “I—I thought I was done for.”

“Almost were,” Sirius said, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But you’re here now.”

The boy looked up at him, still trembling. “Th-thanks. I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Pettigrew.”

“Sirius,” he said, offering a brief nod. “Black. Welcome to Dauntless.”

Peter blinked, his face paling even further. “Black? As in... the Black family?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Don’t sound so bloody surprised.”

Before Peter could respond, James popped his head in from the next car, looking between the two of them. “What’s taking you so long, Sirius? We’re almost there!”

Sirius smirked and shoved himself to his feet, brushing off his jacket. “Had to save a life, mate. You know how it is.”

James grinned, but his gaze shifted to Peter, who was still sitting on the floor, trying to calm his shaking hands. “You alright, mate?”

Peter nodded again, though the fear hadn’t quite left his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks to him.”

James glanced at Sirius with a knowing look before stepping inside. “Better get used to it, Peter. Dauntless doesn’t take prisoners.”

Peter managed a weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah... I noticed.”

Before Sirius could reply, Peter—still pale and shaken—spoke up. “I’m not sure I’m going to survive this.” His voice was small, uncertain, and Sirius felt a pang of something he didn’t want to acknowledge. Compassion.

“You’ll survive,” Sirius said, more firmly than he felt. “Just keep up.”

James came closer, staring out at the blur of the city rushing past. “You really didn’t have to do that, you know,” he said quietly, nodding towards Peter.

Sirius shrugged, though his heart was still pounding. “Yeah, well. Didn’t feel like letting him fall.”

“You’re not as much of a git as you pretend to be, you know that?”

Sirius shot him a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t spread that around. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.” 

Sirius sat down on the hard metal floor of the train, his legs stretched out in front of him. The wind was still howling, but inside the train car, there was a strange stillness—a moment to catch their breath before the next challenge. James sat beside him, his eyes scanning the group of initiates scattered around the train. Lily Evans, who had jumped on just before them, stood near the door, her red hair whipping in the wind as she looked out at the city.

Sirius had always been aware of her, though they’d never spoken much. She was one of those people you couldn’t help but notice—quiet, intense, her mind always working. He knew she’d come from Abnegation, and that she had been expected to stay there, just like all the other Abnegation's children. But now, here she was, in Dauntless, surprising everyone—including, from the look on his face, James.

James was watching her now, a mix of admiration and confusion on his face.

“She didn’t hesitate,” James murmured, almost to himself. “Not for a second.”

Sirius grinned, nudging him with his elbow. “She’s not like most people, is she?”

James shook his head, still staring at Lily. “No. She’s not.”

Peter, still catching his breath, looked between them. “So... what happens next?”

Sirius shrugged, leaning his head back against the wall. “We run, we jump, we survive. That’s Dauntless, right?”

“Sounds easy enough,” James said, though his voice held a note of doubt. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

“Like what?” Peter asked.

James paused, his eyes distant for a moment. “Like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Sirius glanced at him, surprised by the admission. James was always so sure of himself, always confident. “You’ll figure it out. We all will.”

Peter shifted uncomfortably, his hands fiddling with the hem of his jacket. “What if I’m not cut out for this? I mean, I barely made the jump onto the train. What if I—”

“You’re here,” Sirius interrupted, his tone firm. “That’s what matters.”

Peter fell silent, but his expression remained uncertain. Sirius leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to push away the nagging doubts in his own mind. He’d left everything behind—his family, his brother, his entire life in Erudite. And for what? To prove something? To escape?

The guilt gnawed at him, but he couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t.

“You alright, mate?” James asked quietly, his voice breaking into Sirius’ thoughts.

Sirius opened his eyes, offering James a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Before James could respond, the train began to slow, and the Dauntless-born leaders moved to the doors, shouting instructions over the wind.

 “Alright, initiates! Time to show us what you’re made of! Get ready to jump!”

The train screeched as it approached the rooftop of a tall building. Below them, the Dauntless compound loomed, dark and imposing. The other initiates began to move toward the door, their faces a mix of excitement and fear. Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest. This was it—the real test.

The first of the Dauntless-born jumped, their movements fluid and practiced. They hit the rooftop in a roll, springing to their feet with ease. The initiates, however, looked far less confident.

Lily stepped up to the edge without hesitation. Her face was calm, determined. She turned back to look at the group one last time, her gaze lingering on James before she squared her shoulders and, with a graceful leap, hurled herself into the open air.

The Dauntless-born cheered as she landed on the rooftop, rolling to her feet like she’d been born for this. Sirius felt a surge of admiration for her. She hadn’t hesitated for a second.

“Bloody hell,” James muttered, his eyes wide. “She didn’t even think about it.”

Sirius clapped him on the back. “We’re next, Potter.”

James let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah... no pressure.”

Sirius took a deep breath, steeling himself. This was what Dauntless was about, wasn’t it? Facing your fears head-on, proving yourself every single day. He had chosen this path for a reason—freedom.

He turned to Peter, who was once again trembling at the edge of the train. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear. “You ready?”

Peter swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No. I don’t think I can do it.”

Sirius grabbed his arm, forcing a grin. “Too bad. You’re going.”

With that, Sirius leapt from the train, pulling Peter with him. The wind rushed past them, the rooftop coming up fast. Sirius hit the ground hard, rolling to his feet in one smooth motion, his heart racing. Peter landed beside him with a thud, gasping for air but alive.

They had made it.

Sirius helped Peter to his feet, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. “See? Not so bad.”

Peter looked like he was about to be sick, but he nodded. “Yeah... right.”

James landed a moment later, a bit clumsy but still standing. He groaned as he stood up, rubbing his shoulder. “That was... something.”

Sirius laughed, the adrenaline making him giddy. „We’ll just have to get used to it.”

Before they could say anything else, one of the Dauntless leaders—Fabian Prewett, a tall, muscular man with fiery red hair and a scar running down his jaw—stepped forward. Sirius recognized him from some of the parties his parents used to host. Dauntless leaders rarely appeared at them, usually too carefree and energetic to enjoy stale gatherings typical for Erudites, but when they decided to show up, they always caused a stir. Fabian Prewett, along with his twin brother, Gideon, always made themselves especially noticeable. Now, Fabian’s presence commanded attention, and even the other Dauntless-born initiates fell silent as he approached.

“Welcome to Dauntless,” Fabian said, his voice booming over the rooftop. “You’ve made it this far, but don’t get comfortable. This is only the beginning. You want to survive here? You’ll have to prove yourself. Every. Single. Day.”

The initiates exchanged nervous glances, the weight of his words sinking in.

Fabian pointed to the edge of the building, where a massive hole yawned open into darkness. “Your first test starts now. Jump.”

The air grew thick with tension. The initiates looked at one another, fear flashing in their eyes. Sirius could feel the uncertainty creeping back in, but he forced it down. This was why he was here. To push his limits. To prove he wasn’t just another Black, bound by his family’s expectations.

Fabian crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. “Any volunteers?”

For a moment, no one moved. The silence was deafening. Then, slowly, Lily stepped forward, her face calm and unreadable. Without a word, she walked to the edge, her footsteps steady and deliberate.

Sirius watched, his heart pounding. There was something almost unreal about the way she moved—like fear didn’t even touch her.

Lily glanced back at Fabian, who raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. Then, without another word, she turned and jumped.

The world seemed to freeze for a moment, everyone watching in stunned silence. Then, Fabian’s smirk widened.

“Not bad.”

Sirius felt a strange sense of pride watching her disappear into the darkness. And then, before he could second-guess himself, he stepped forward.

“I’ll go next.”

Without waiting for a response, Sirius walked to the edge, his heart racing, and threw himself into the abyss.

* * *

Mary Macdonald had always heard stories about Erudite—the pristine streets, the towering glass buildings, the way everything seemed to gleam under the midday sun. But seeing it up close was something entirely different. As she, Remus Lupin and the rest of the new Erudites were led through the massive gates of Erudite headquarters, she couldn't help but stare. The walls were made of sleek, reflective glass, their surfaces so clean she could see her own wide-eyed reflection staring back at her.

“Well, this is different,” Mary said aloud, her voice breaking the quiet tension that had settled between her and Remus.

He didn’t respond. Of course he didn’t.

Mary had never been good with silence, especially awkward silence. She glanced over at Remus, who was walking beside her, his eyes ahead, his expression closed off and distant, just like it had been since the Choosing Ceremony. 

Still, Mary thought, it was better to say something than to let the silence suffocate them both.

“Y’know,” she began again, her voice a little too loud in the echoing halls as they walked inside the headquarters. “I heard Erudite’s all about logic and facts, but this place—” she waved a hand at the marble floors and the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling “—looks like it was designed by someone who really liked to show off.”

Remus didn’t look at her, but she saw the faintest twitch in his jaw. “It’s practical,” he muttered. “Efficient.”

Mary snorted. “Efficient? This place looks like it costs more than the whole of Candor put together. They could've at least spent it on something useful. Like... chairs. Or food.”

“They have plenty of chairs and food,” Remus replied tersely, his eyes still forward. “It’s not about excess. It’s about creating an environment that reflects order.”

“Order, right,” Mary said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because nothing says ‘order’ like chandeliers and spotless windows.”

Remus clenched his fists at his sides, his pace quickening.

She knew she was pushing him. She didn’t really mean to; it was just... well, Remus had been so closed off ever since they’d left the Choosing Ceremony. His face had been a mask of calm, but Mary suspected he was just hurt. She didn’t blame him—all through the Ceremony he kept looking away from a redhead girl in grey clothing standing among the Dauntless. Mary didn’t know the full story but she was guessing that loosing somebody important to a Faction you never expected them to choose was a tough pill to swallow. 

Still, he didn’t have to be so broody about it.

As they turned a corner, they were led into a vast atrium filled with rows of desks and people working silently, their heads bent over tablets and computer screens. The room was eerily quiet, save for the soft tapping of fingers on keys. Mary suppressed a shudder. It felt too quiet here.

“Welcome to the Erudite central hub,” their guide, a sharp-eyed woman dressed in crisp blue robes, announced. “This is where research, analysis, and all major decisions regarding the Faction take place.”

Mary let out a low whistle. “Fancy.”

Remus shot her a look, his eyes cold.

The guide continued without acknowledging Mary’s comment. “You’ll be spending much of your time here, learning the ways of Erudite, developing your knowledge, and contributing to the intellectual advancement of the city.”

Remus looked around the room, his face impassive but his eyes flicking over every detail. Mary knew he was already analyzing everything, taking it all in, fitting himself into this place.

Not that she cared. 

Mary crossed her arms, rocking on her heels as the guide led them to a small, isolated office tucked away behind the atrium. It was dimly lit compared to the rest of the building, and sitting behind the desk was a man who made the room feel even colder than it looked.

He was tall, with pale skin and long black hair that hung limply around his face. His sharp black eyes flicked up at them with a mixture of indifference and disdain.

“This is Severus Snape,” the guide said, her voice reverent, as though the man before them was some sort of oracle. “One of the senior leaders of Erudite.”

Snape barely acknowledged them as he spoke, his voice low and drawling. “New recruits, I assume.”

Something about the way he looked at them—like they were beneath him—rubbed Mary the wrong way. She was used to blunt honesty in Candor, but this wasn’t honesty. This was arrogance. 

“Yep, that’s us,” Mary said cheerfully, popping the ‘p’ in her words. “All ready to be molded into little Erudite scholars.”

Remus shot her another glare, but she ignored it. Snape’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if irritated by her flippant tone. “Your contributions here will determine your place among us. We have no tolerance for incompetence.”

Mary raised an eyebrow. “No pressure, then.”

Snape’s gaze turned colder, if that was possible, and he looked away from her dismissively, focusing instead on Remus. His eyes lingered on him a little, and then his lips curled into a sneer. “You’ll need to do more than follow orders to succeed here.”

Remus nodded curtly, clearly uninterested in making any conversation.

“Well, this is delightful,” Mary said, her voice cutting through the tension. “But if you don’t mind, maybe you can show us where we’re actually staying?”

Snape didn’t even look at her. “You will be assigned quarters based on your initial performance. For now, you are dismissed.”

Mary turned on her heel, giving a mock salute to the guide as they were led away. The moment they were out of earshot, she let out a frustrated sigh. “Blimey, what a ray of sunshine that bloke is. Is everyone here like that?”

Remus had been quiet throughout the exchange, but now, as they walked in silence through the polished halls of Erudite headquarters, he stopped suddenly and turned to her, his face tight with barely contained frustration.

“Will you just stop?” he snapped.

Mary blinked, taken aback. “Stop what?”

“Talking,” Remus said through gritted teeth. “You don’t always have to say something.”

“Well, someone has to! Have you seen this place? It’s like a tomb. No one’s even breathing without permission, and I’m supposed to just sit here and—”

“Yes,” he interrupted, his voice low and sharp. “You’re supposed to be quiet. That’s how things work here. They don’t need your opinions, and neither do I.”

Mary stared at him, stunned. She hadn’t expected him to snap like that. Sure, she knew he was dealing with a lot, but...

“You don’t have to be a complete git about it,” she said, her voice softer now.

Remus looked away, his hands clenched at his sides. “I just... I need quiet. Okay? Just—stop pushing.”

She frowned. She hadn’t realized she’d been pushing. But now that he said it, she could see it. The way he held himself, tense, always on edge. Maybe this whole Erudite thing wasn’t as easy for him as he made it look.

“Fine,” she muttered, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “But don’t think being here makes you better than anyone else.”

Remus shot her a look. “I never said it did.”

“Good,” Mary said, raising her chin defiantly. “Because I’m not going to just blend into the background like the rest of these Erudite clones.”

“Some of us don’t have that luxury,” Remus muttered under his breath, turning away from her again. But Mary caught it, and it stung more than she expected.

They walked in silence after that, the heavy weight of their new world settling around them like an invisible cage.