Chapter 2

Fall, 1971

Sirius awoke just as the sun began to light up his bedroom. The day had finally arrived: September first.

His letter had arrived exactly on time and he had gone with his cousins and Aunt Druella to get his books, robes, and supplies. Aunt Druella had bought him a long-eared owl named Otis who seemed to dislike women and cats, but was immediately fond of Sirius.

"Eeylop said he didn't often carry Long-Ears, said they aren't commonly used for post as the owners are frustrated by how loud they are. Apparently they bark like dogs at times. Seeing as how loud you are, and your penchant for acting like a mongrel, I assumed you too would get on famously," Bella said, rudely; not that Bellatrix had any other way of speaking to Sirius. Bellatrix, it would seem, felt slighted that she was not the rightful heir to the Black family fortune since she had the audacity to be born a female. Her resentful feelings towards Sirius were no secret amongst the family and they had all, apparently, decided to ignore it.

"Now, now, Bellatrix. Otis is a perfectly acceptable pet for a first year student. This was he can tell his parents as soon as he's sorted into Slytherin, and he can keep in touch with young Regulus."

Bellatrix softened at that. Regulus was the Black brother she doted on, seeing him as someone in a similar situation as herself: losing out on the Black family inheritance due to the simple circumstances of his birth. Sirius had been chalked up as a lost cause by the time he was seven in Bellatrix' eyes, but Regulus was still seen as a possible protege in her eyes.

Sirius paced around his room, grabbing everything he could think of that he might need. He placed his wand carefully into the special pocket of his robes and stroked the wood pensively. The thrill of having his very own wand had not yet worn off and he was anxious to start classes so he could learn how to master the bloody thing. As a wizarding child, he'd spent his entire life watching his parents use theirs and had learned countless incantations and wand movements, but to do it himself was something that every young magical child looked forward to for years.

In less than seven years, he would lose the trace and be able to perform magic outside of the school and would be able to leave Grimmauld Place for good. Regulus would stay with him over the Christmas, Easter, and Summer hols, and they'd never have to deal with the Lord and Lady Black ever again. The corners of his lips turned up at the thought.

A soft hoot pulled him from his thoughts of freedom and Sirius ambled over to his oversized bed, reaching beneath it to grab out the bag of treats he had received from his aunt along with Otis. He grabbed one out before tucking the rest of the treats into his robe pocket as well. Otis took the treat almost daintily from Sirius and hopped from foot to foot in a little dance Sirius had learned meant that the owl was pleased.

Muffled voices from below began to filter through his door and Sirius' heart began to pound. After glancing around his room to ensure he hadn't missed any items he would need, Sirius closed his trunk and buckled the straps down tightly.

This was it.

He was finally going to leave the House of Black.

He was finally going to spend a glorious nine months away from home, with only brief holidays to be spent with his mother.

Lady Black was probably having Kreacher bring the Floo powder so they could go to small building beside Kings Cross Station. The walk from Grimmauld Place to Kings Cross was less than twenty minutes, but Lady Black abhorred rubbing elbows with Muggles.

CRACK

"My Lady would like the young Master to go to the parlor. She is waiting to take the young Master to the station," Kreacher said with his ingrained deference. "Kreacher will take the young Master's trunk to the fireplace."

CRACK

Sirius glanced at where his trunk had been, and saw Otis hooting indignantly, amber eyes narrowed at Sirius.

"I'd say he grows on you, old fellow. But he really doesn't."

Otis clicked his beak and flew to his cage on the top of Sirius' bed and pulled his door shut before settling onto his perch, as if to say he was ready to travel to Hogwarts. Sirius obliged by carrying his cage carefully down the stairs.

Kings Cross Station was teaming with people. Sirius was wide-eyed, trying to take in every inch of the Muggles surrounding him. There were women in what looked like underclothes instead of skirts with knee-high shiny boots, men walked around in brightly colored trousers that flared out from the knee, teenaged girls wearing glasses with lenses so dark Sirius couldn't see their eyes: all of it was a shock.

Lady Black's muttered commentary on the impropriety of Muggles never ceased as they made their way to Platform 9 ¾ while Sirius struggled to keep his mouth shut. Their whole life, the Black boys had been told that Muggles were vulgar, simple creatures who were little better than the animals witches and wizards kept as pets. Sirius hadn't believed them, but seeing these outlandish fashions made him think twice. The women were positively indecent and Sirius' cheeks were beet red by the time he was pushed onto the magic platform by his infuriated mother.

"Nasty little beasts, all of them. Didn't I tell you, Sirius? The gall of them, to reveal so much skin in a public place. Ghastly."

The sharp, grating sound of his mother's voice made Sirius grimace. The older he'd gotten, the more he knew he never wanted to be anything like her. He was sure to meet muggleborns in Hogwarts. It would suit his mother right if he came home with one as a friend. In fact, the more Sirius thought about it, the more determined he was to befriend a muggleborn. It might be difficult seeing as every Black he'd ever known was a Slytherin, and Slytherin certainly wasn't going to be a hotbed of muggleborn students. However, Sirius was nothing if not stubborn, a fact his mother ranted about constantly.

Sirius was tempted to grip his mother's hand as they went through the brick onto Platform 9 ¾, however the glare, and inevitably loud scolding he was sure to receive should he do such a thing, made him square his shoulders and walk onto the platform as confidently as if it were an open archway. The sleek black and red engine, spouting steam and hissing angrily, awaited him on the other side.

"Twelve until departure. Narcissa and Andromeda should be here with your Aunt- Ah, there." Lady Black made her way towards her sister-in-law without checking to see if Sirius was able to keep up with his trunk or not. Otis hooted indignantly at the sudden about-face Sirius had taken and ruffled his feathers as he trundled towards to the Black family in his cage atop the trunk.

"Walburga, dear!"

Sirius couldn't remember his aunt ever looking quite so cheerful. Were all parents this happy to send their children off to school?

"Druella, there you are. Sirius! Apologize to your aunt for being late," Lady Black snapped.

"My apologies, Aunt Druella."

Sirius heard his aunt give some platitude about the first year always being the hardest, and then his mother and her sister-in-law prattled on about all of the tidbits they'd heard since seeing each other at dinner. He saw his cousins stepping into the first car with all of the other prefects. Andromeda did, in fact, appear to be wearing the slightly larger Head Girl badge, an emerald shield emblazoned with silver. A first year, not even sorted, would never be allowed in the first train car so Sirius put on his mask of indifference, learned from a young age, and told his mother he was going to board the train.

"Yes, yes, dear. I do wish we could have sent you with a Slytherin scarf or something, but that Dumbledore is adamant about students having no house garments until after they are sorted. We'll send one with Viktor, if his wing has properly healed, tomorrow."

Sirius nodded and turned to join the stream of students boarding the Hogwarts Express.

"Adrian, Harold!"

A burly young boy who clearly had easy access to treacle fudge, made his way to the stool and a middle aged, pretty professor placed the patchy hat upon his head.

"HUFFLEPUFF"

Sirius rolled his eyes. Of course he was Hufflepuff. Then, realizing his thought, Sirius shook himself. That was exactly the kind of thoughts his mother would have, and Sirius had decided to be nothing like her.

"Ashton, Rebecca!"

Sirius watched the sleek blonde girl make her way to the stool. She was pretty, with mischievous eyes. Sirius didn't recognize the same so he assumed she would be either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.

"HUFFLEPUFF"

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as the Hufflepuff table burst into applause. Perhaps the stereotypes were wrong.

"Barney, Basil!"

An awkward looking boy tripped up the stairs, pushing his glasses up his nose with the heel of his hand.

"RAVENCLAW"

Maybe the stereotypes weren't.

"Black, Sirius!"

Sirius sauntered up to the stool, his mind whirring with thoughts of his family and how eager he was to prove that he wasn't like them. He did not want to be like them. He refused to be the kind of parent who beat their children and berated them constantly. He wanted to be better, to be seen as better. Sirius hated his tutors so he knew that Ravenclaw was no option, but what else was there? He was no bleeding-hearted Puff, he wasn't suicidal like a Gryffindor, but he wasn't the pompous ass he associated with Slytherin either.

"Ah," the hat said in his ear, making Sirius jump. "Very conflicted, very conflicted. You don't want to be like your family, but don't have the drive for education either. Much too much anger for Hufflepuff and not enough gentleness. The desire to be unique and prove yourself better would fit into a cunning house like Slytherin, but your desire to break from their beliefs would make it uncomfortable for you, as well as everyone else. Well, if nothing else is available, I guess it better be...GRYFFINDOR!"

There was silence in the Great Hall, then an onslaught of whispers.

"Didn't Professor McGonagall say he was a Black?"

"Blacks are the foundation of Slytherin, blimey..."

"Wouldn't mind hearing the howler he'll be getting tomorrow..."

"Never thought I'd live to see the day..."

"Wonder if Blacks disinherit non-Slytherin kin?"

Sirius' cheeks flamed, he couldn't help it. What would his family think? What would his mother think? As sure as the sun would rise, his mother would send a Howler with the morning post, he knew it. Sirius stared at the ground, refusing to look up and see what was sure to be twin looks of shock and shame on his cousins' faces. He walked to the table decked out with red and gold and sat at a chair that was purposefully as far as he could from everyone else.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and continued to read off the names as the rest of the first years were sorted into their new houses. Amycus Carrow was put into Slytherin, no surprise there, along with a handful of other names Sirius recognized from other pure blooded family lines. As Professor McGonagall reached the X, Y, and Z names, he overcame his embarrassment enough to look about and see his fellow Gryffindors. There was a lanky boy with black hair and glasses who looked like he'd spent the entire ride to Hogwarts with his head out the window. A small mousey boy who looked scared of his own shadow did his best to take up as little room as possible while shooting glances of interest at Sirius. One person who did catch his eye was a pretty little thing with fiery red hair. At first he thought she was a Weasley, but her robes looked too new to be hand-me-downs.

The sound of a throat clearing made the students of the Great Hall silent immediately and look up at the podium. Professor Dumbledore stood there, his eyes twinkling down upon them, and began to speak.

"Welcome, students, to another year here at Hogwarts."

"Oh, no. I hope he doesn't drone on again," a girl whispered under her breath.

"Hogwarts has long been a place for learning many things. Whilst you will learn much in your classrooms, the lessons learned amongst your peers will be equally important. House unity is a must if you are to succeed here: you are not an individual but a team. But remember this too: you are sorted based on your strengths. Look at the other tables. See students with strengths that are different than yours. You are all much stronger together."

"Blimey, he does this every year. Why can't he just say a few words and let us eat, I'm starving."

This time it was a boy, a seventh year if Sirius had to guess. Dumbledore spoke for perhaps another five minutes in his soothing voice before clapping his hands, making Sirius jump. Then, the food appeared.

It was just as he had always imagined. There were roast chickens, crown pork roasts, London Broil, roasted potatoes, potatoes au gratin, mashed potatoes, roasted carrots, yorkshire puddings, steaming dinner rolls: it was every young adolescent boy's dream. And, even better, there was no Lady Black around to shoot stinging jinxes at his hands when he reached for seconds. Bliss!

The messy-haired boy was tearing into a chicken leg while the red-headed girl glared and cut the meat off of her own. A thin, pale boy with a large scratch on his neck was enjoying an incredibly rare cut of meat and Sirius shoveled into his various types of potatoes with gusto. Even the mousy boy's persistent glances couldn't lessen his appetite. He had food and no fear of being stung while eating for lack of manners or posture. This was Sirius' version of heaven.

Sirius ran down the halls, dodging around other students, trying to make his way to Transfiguration. It was only the second week of classes and a moving staircase had sent Sirius on a wild goose chase trying to find his way to the correct floor and wing of the castle. He finally made it to the door and leaned over to catch his breath before walking in. Behind him, he heard someone sprinting down the hall and coming to a halt beside him.

"You late as well? Brilliant! McGonagall will have to divide her anger between us, eh?"

Sirius looked up to see a goofy grin on the messy haired boy, whose name he'd since learned was Potter.

"Staircase moved on me," Sirius muttered.

"Excellent excuse! I may use that one as well. Shall we?"

Sirius didn't have a chance to tell him it wasn't an excuse before James swung open the door.

"Terribly sorry, professor. Black, here, and I were unfortunate enough to have been misdirected by one of those sneaky staircases. Wily ones, they are. It's like they knew he and I were trying to get here early and were determined to keep us behind. I mean, honestly-"

"MISTER Potter. Mister Black. Please be seated, there are chairs for you both at the front."

Sirius walked quickly to the table and Potter swaggered. Sirius rolled his eyes as did Evans, the red-headed girl. She was a muggleborn and Sirius had toyed with the idea of using her as the muggleborn friend who would prove to the world that he wasn't his family, however she was something of a bookworm and didn't appear to have interest in anyone except for a surly Slytherin boy with greasy black locks.

Sirius took out his parchment and quill, both looking worse for wear from his race to the classroom.

"Gor, is that an eagle plume?" Potter asked. "Mum won't get me one of those. Says I'd destroy it before a got a class worth of work from it. Guess she was right, eh?"

Potter waggled his eyebrows behind his glasses and Sirius and he choked back a laugh, fearing the repercussions of McGonagall noticing.

"I've got a box-full. Something about Black's only using the best or some rot. You're welcome to them," Sirius whispered.

Potter cocked a brow. "Mummy won't get mad at you sharing?"

"I'm a Gryffindor now. Doubt she still considers herself my mother."

Sirius meant to say it nonchalantly, but the ingrained lessons of upholding the House of Black with honor rang in his ears, cause an unintentional catch in his voice. It was the first time he'd admitted it out loud. Sirius wasn't certain what would become of him at the Christmas break. At this point, he wasn't certain if he'd be allowed to go home for Christmas.

No Howler had arrived, as Sirius had dreaded, the morning after the sorting. Instead, Jasper, the oldest and most decrepit owl of the family's owlery, had been sent bearing a note with his father's slashing scrawl stating simply, "The Family has been informed of your sorting."

What did that mean? Sirius wasn't quite sure. He'd expected anger, hysterics, rants on blasphemy and dishonor. The cold, curt note was the only correspondence he had received. Otis had had no mail to deliver thanks to the nonexistent communication with his family and lack of people to write to outside of the family, so Sirius had taken to visiting him in the Owlery and bringing him treats.

Sirius glanced over at Potter who was staring at him intently. While he'd expected a look of pity, which he would've hated, he instead felt like a specimen being examined by a magizoologist.

"What?" Sirius asked curtly.

"That sounds bloody awful." Potter replied. "You need a better family. You can borrow mine, if you need. My parents always wanted more children, but they only got me. They'd be thrilled with another one."

Sirius did his best to keep his jaw from dropping while Potter grinned at him. Imagine, a family that accepting! Sirius couldn't fathom it. His family would have adopted a dragon as a housepet before allowing a non-Black to consider themselves "family". In fact, Sirius thought it significantly more likely that they'd adopt a dragon.

Sirius grinned back.

"MISTER BLACK! MISTER POTTER! You will pay attention in this class, or you will receive detention. Five points from Gryffindor."

"Would ya look at the mouth on that one?!"

"Those eyes are mediocre at best."

"I didn't know noses could be that large!"

Sirius and James were pointing out the best and worst of the jack-o-lanterns floating above the Great Hall while shoveling Pumpkin Pasties into their mouths. Evans was glowering at them and brushing nonexistent crumbs from her book, a behemoth of a tome on the history of charms. Sirius grinned at her, determined to get her to smile. She was practically attached at the hip with Snape, the Slytherin boy. Sirius didn't see the draw: he was a sour-faced potions nerd with the greasiest hair Sirius had ever seen. The name Snape didn't mean anything to Sirius, which meant he wasn't a pure blood, though his placement in Slytherin meant he was at least a half blood.

James was reaching for a helping of treacle fudge and knocked a glass of pumpkin juice over.

Evans screeched and pulled her precious book from the table and shot daggers at the bespectacled boy. James shrugged his shoulders whilst a sixth year, a Longbottom Sirius thought, cleaned up the juice with a wave of his wand.

"Do you respect nothing, Potter?" she fumed.

"I wouldn't say nothing," James replied, "I respect my mum and dad. And I respect how red your skin is able to get when you're angry…"

Evans spun around and stormed off, Snape getting up to follow her out like the dutiful dog he was.

"That wasn't very nice of you," came the steady voice of Remus Lupin. He was quite reserved for an eleven year old. His words were few but almost always perfectly chosen to answer questions or make comments succinctly. Sirius thought he was a miserable bookworm, though less huffy about it than Evans.

"I thought it was rather funny."

Pettigrew was an obsequious kind of person, constantly laughing too enthusiastically at James' and Sirius' jokes. He'd done his best to integrate himself into Sirius and James' budding friendship and they let him. It was nice to have a personal cheering squad to applaud and laugh as needed.

Sirius smiled, looking around at the table. He fit in here, surprising as that was. He'd started to make friends, he was finding he had an apt hand at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms, and the lectures from teachers were far preferable to the lectures Lady Black had given.

Yes, Sirius thought, my life is quite good.

A/N: How do you all like the introductions of the Marauders?

I'm trying my best to get into Sirius' head and see things the way he would after eleven years of being force-fed Purist propaganda. There are a number of things that end up ingrained in your way of thinking that take time to get past, which is what I am hoping to work through with him.

Please, please review and let me know what you think. This is a WIP and reviews are what keep me motivated to continue writing. As I hope you've noticed, I'm doing a season per chapter. Going up through the death of Voldemort gives me 39, plus a possible epilogue would be 40. That's a lot of chapters, and my longest fic to date. So, yeah. Review. Please.

Edit: Realized my page breaks weren't in here so I added them!