Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 5
Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Beater 1
Task: Write about Sirius Black in his fifth year at Hogwarts.
Prompts Used:
(quote) 'The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge, but imagination.' - Albert Einstein
(song) Bring Him Home from Les Miserables
Word Count: 2,101
()()()()()
In my need
You have always been there
He is young
He's afraid
Let him rest
Heaven blessed.
Bring him home
You can take
You can give
Let him be
Let him live
If I die, let me die
Let him live
Bring him home
()()()()()
Sirius stumbled from the dormitory, bleary eyed and dishevelled, to find the common room almost deserted. If it wasn't already first period, the bell was going to go very soon. A minute later – or perhaps it was merely seconds; all of time seemed to blur together into an endless, exhausting stream of pointlessness as he stood there, swaying slightly – the rest of the Marauders crawled out into the common room to join him there. They all looked terrible, but Remus was without a doubt the worst looking.
His face drained of all colour and his school robes dirty, he slouched out of the dormitory hunched over like an old man, wincing at every step. Even after years and years of transformations, it never got any easier for him.
James, the only one of them with a watch, checked the time. "We've got three minutes until the bell," he stated flatly.
There was silence for a while, which was finally broken when Sirius' stomach grumbled loudly. It was like a spell had been broken, and then they were all off; tearing out of the portrait hole and down the corridor, running like madmen, their bruised and weary limbs screaming in protest. They reached the Great Hall in record time and collapsed onto the nearest chairs, their burst of energy gone.
More tired than ever, Sirius barely had the strength to pile sausages on to his plate. James didn't even bother to try; instead he muttered a summoning spell and food flew straight to him, hovering by his mouth for him to bite. Peter grumbled something about his joints on fire as he stared pathetically at the scrambled eggs that were too far away for him to reach.
However, true to James' word, the bell for first period rang a minute later - far sooner than the exhausted boys would have liked.
Murmurs accompanied the boys as they left the hall, but Sirius was too tired to shut them out. "Look at the Marauders!" "They look like walking death." "Wonder what they were doing last night." "I wonder who they were doing last night." "Professor! You can't say things like that!"
It was as they stumbled through the door to Transfiguration that the boys heard an all-too-familiar voice from behind them. James rubbed his eyes and half-heartedly ran a hand through his hair, but his heart wasn't in it. His heart – as well as the rest of his consciousness – was back in their dormitory, sleeping.
"What on earth were you boys doing last night? You look like dead men walking!" Lily Evans stormed up to the Marauders and stared at them, her hands on her hips, a defiant expression on her face. "You'd better not have been planning another stupid prank," she said, aiming a glare at James.
James looked like he wanted to say something, but Sirius pulled him over to a table. "Don't even bother, mate," he muttered, slumping on the desk and yawning. "She wouldn't believe a word you say."
Sighing, James pulled out the chair next to Sirius and all but fell into it. Remus and Peter took the two chairs on the other side of Sirius, while Lily huffed angrily and went to join her friend a few rows back.
Professor McGonagall swept through the doors and took her place at the front of the classroom. Her eyes swept over the room, resting on the Marauders. "Boys," she snapped. James jumped in his seat and Peter's eyes shot open. "Is there a reason you all look like you're going to fall asleep any moment?"
Remus glanced guiltily at the desk for a moment before joining the other three in their frantic shaking of heads. "No, Professor McGonagall," James said, his voice soundingsteady and confident, but with weariness that only Sirius could hear. "I wouldn't dream of missing one of your lessons."
McGonagall rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched upwards slightly. "Right, well, on with the lesson. I trust everyone-" her eyes flitted briefly back to the Marauders- "will be paying attention, as Vanishing Spells are particularly difficult. Now, before one can…"
Sirius zoned out as McGonagall began talking about Vanishing spells, instead trying to find a comfortable position to rest his head. His gaze drifted over to Remus, and his stomach lurched.
The boy was sitting inattentively, his quill clutched loosely in his hand, a scrap of parchment in front of him but with no notes written down. How cruel it was, Sirius thought, that Remus had to go through this every month.
For him – and for James and Peter, too – it was a way to comfort and support their friend, yes, but it was also a bit of fun. It was exciting. It was another clever idea that would leave them with some great memories.
But that's not what it was like for Remus. For him, it wasn't something fun. It was a curse; something he had to live with forever. Sirius felt a wave of affection for his friend, who had to deal with so much, but still managed to – most of the time – be a positive, friendly person. He was, arguably, the best of all of them. Just the right amount of studying and pranking, of seriousness and jovialness. How could one boy, just fifteen years old, manage to cope with so much?
"Black? How about you?"
Sirius' gaze snapped away from his friend, and to the front of the classroom, where McGonagall was staring expectantly at him. "Ex-Excuse me?" he choked out.
"What would I say if I was to make something disappear?" she asked. "I just went over it, do you not remember? Or were you not paying attention?"
All eyes were on him. That was the trouble with being a Marauder; people expect you to have something funny to say, all of the time. "If you were to make something disappear," he said, "You would say… 'Go away'?" he smirked. Next to him, James let out a bark of laughter, while McGonagall sighed.
"No, Black. That is incorrect."
Sirius sat up a little straighter, all trace of tiredness hidden by a mask of laughter. "I know you think me stupid, Professor, but don't you think that the true sign of intelligence is not knowledge, but imagination?"
Professor McGonagall didn't even bother to reply. "Evans?"
"You would say 'Evanesco', Professor," Lily Evans recited dutifully, shooting a dark look at Sirius, who rolled his eyes in response.
Nodding at Lily, Professor McGonagall smiled. "Very good, miss Evans. It's good to see you're improving." Lily blushed and looked down at the floor; everyone knew Transfiguration was Lily's worst subject. "Mr Black, Mr Potter, Mr Lupin and Mr Pettigrew – I want a word with all of you at the end of class. So, when you have your target…"
All of the Marauders glared at McGonagall as she began talking again. Remus sighed and went back to a drawing on his parchment. It took a minute for Sirius to work out what it was, but then he realised – Remus had drawn a full moon, with barbed wire encircling it and blood dripping from a sword which was-Sirius' heart thudded painfully in his chest-embedded in the stomach of a werewolf.
How could he have gone so long without truly realising how bad his friend had it? Before last night, he had been painfully unaware of how much this this terrible affliction haunted Remus, even when he was human and safe. Studying his friends' face, Sirius saw worry lines etched on his forehead; they were there so much, even when he wasn't frowning, the ghosts of them remained – ghosts that reminded him that even when life seemed good, it was only a matter of days until it would get very, very bad again.
Sirius knew that as far as families went, he had it bad. But here, at Hogwarts, he could almost forget about all of his troubles and worries and pains.
Remus couldn't. He carried his scars wherever he went – his curse was inside himself.
In that moment, as Sirius watched his friend drop the quill and scrunch up his drawing, the creases in his forehead deepening as he thought about Merlin-knows-what, he wished with all his heart that he could cure his friend.
He was just a boy. They all were. It sickened Sirius to think that Remus would go his whole life in fear that his curse would be discovered; that he might hurt someone. He would be constantly afraid of himself and what he might do in those times when he completely loses control.
Please, Sirius prayed silently – to who, he didn't know – he is so young. He does not deserve this. Let him rest, let him have a normal life.
Sirius knew that he would give anything to rid Remus of his disease, if only for a little while. He would lay down his life for his friends, any day, any time – and if he could cure Remus by sacrificing himself, he would. In a heartbeat. Such was the extent of the pain it caused Remus, Sirius would do absolutely anything to help.
Class ended without Sirius noticing, and suddenly the four Marauders were the last ones left in the room. Pofessor McGonagall walked up to their desks and stood in front of them, turning her gaze on each of them in turn.
"Did you set off dungbombs last night?" she asked finally, after a long stretch of silence.
The boys looked at each other, genuinely baffled. "…No, Professor," James said slowly. "We didn't set off any dungbombs last night." They all frowned at her.
McGonagall thought, then her eyes lit up. "Did you set off dungbombs this morning?" she asked. They all shook their heads. "Did you do something with Peeves?" – they shook their heads – "Did you vandalise school property? Did you vandalise someone's personal property?"
She fired question after question at the confused boys, all of which merited a shake of the head. Finally, understanding dawned on Sirius. "Professor," he said slowly. "Are you trying to find out if we broke any rules last night, as we are so tired?"
"Well…" McGonagall sighed wearily. "Yes, I was. But I give up. Run along to your next lesson – what is it?
The boys all looked to Remus, who was the only one who had memorised their timetable already. "We have Charms next, Professor," he said wearily, his head lying flat in the desk.
The boys stood up to go. "Wait!" McGonagall called. "I'll write Filius a note, hang on," she scribbled something on a piece of parchment and handed it to Peter. "Okay," she said. "You are all dismissed."
They all turned and walked in single file to the door. When Sirius – the last boy – had just reached the door, Professor McGonagall called to him again. "Black," she said. Sirius turned. McGonagall had a strange look on her face; almost pride, but not quite. "He's a strong boy, Sirius," she said quietly. "Don't underestimate him. He wouldn't appreciate you thinking of him as weak or broken." She gave a small smile. "And try not to stay up so late next time, Black."
Sirius stared at her. She knew. She knew he'd been thinking about Sirius and- and did she know about last night?
How could she?
If she did… Surely she would turn them in. It was illegal. And yet…
Something in her expression, just then, made Sirius sure that if she did know they had accompanied Remus last night, she was not planning to do anything about it.
"Run along, now," McGonagall barked to Sirius, who was still stood in the doorway. "You don't want to be any later for Charms."
Sirius snapped back to the present and nodded hurriedly. "Yes, Professor," he stuttered. "Sorry, Professor."
He looked back at her just before he turned the corner. She was watching him with that same expression. "Thanks, Professor," he whispered, and though she gave no reaction to these words, Sirius knew she had heard him.