Where Dwell the Brave of Heart

Author's Note:

Look in the notes section at the bottom (before pointing out any mistakes) if you want to know why I used certain phrases/facts, changed things around, or added extra info. If I forgot to mention anything in my notes then pm me. Anyway, to digress; the first chapter felt icky to read. This one will be much longer, as will the notes, and I'd say let's hope for the best but I don't really like using that word. So instead I say, here's to the magic of experience and learning from one's mistakes.

11:05pm December, 1968 - Offices of the Advisor to the Minister for Magic

The pleasant singe of mulled mead swirled in Cygnus Black's mouth as he contemplated the question that had just been put to him. Were they at war? The man sitting across from him leaned forward in his armchair, unable to contain his impatience. A Daily Prophet lay open on the coffee table, turned to page 15, the Tragedies column jumped out at him. Inside the report was a jumble of names and vague descriptions of events; nothing concrete, nothing remarkable. Except for the fact that a prominent mudblood politician had gone missing. Again.

"It's not a difficult question, Cygnus. Yes or No." said Bartemius Crouch. Crouch was by no means a small man, but still when Cygnus stood he towered over his colleague. It wasn't fair to use his height, he knew, but the times called. He left his chair in favour of the fireplace mantle. A single painting adorned the space above the lacquered wood; his three daughters stared back at him, accusation in their eyes. If asked the same question two years ago the man would have laughed. The signs had been there though, years before then, and still Cygnus refused to see them. Not until now. Now that he and his family were up to their eyes in filth. All of the favours they'd given away, all of the hours they'd wasted for the man who called himself a Lord.

"Anyone who bothers to read between the lines of what the Prophet is saying can tell something is going on." said Cygnus.

"You don't deny it." Crouch was never one to beat around the bush. "What do you know about this Dark Lord?" He sipped from his glass, waiting for an answer. Before the man had arrived in his offices, Cygnus had debated with himself on how much he would reveal. Too much and he could be implicated in this whole mess, too little and Crouch would discount him as a reliable source of information, possibly shutting him out entirely.

"He... he goes by the name Lord Voldemort," Cygnus said. Well, he had to start somewhere. "But you already knew that." he continued, seeing a flash of surprise on Crouch's face. "You are under no illusions about the Blacks, I assume, but I am telling you this to dispel any doubt you may have." He chose his words, employing every lesson he'd been taught by his father and mentor. "The Blacks, as with many of the pure-blood families, have always held blood-purity as a... high priority. This Dark Lord from what I have heard, is offering a way to purge this world of impurities; muggle-borns, half-breeds and blood traitors alike. He comes to us as a sympathiser to the greater cause, claiming to be a saviour, come to unite us against the mounting threat." Cygnus wanted to laugh at how utterly hypocritical the claims were. He knew for fact that the Dark Lord consorted with the giants and the werewolves and all manner of half-breed.

Crouch watched him, the smallest of changes to his posture showed the man was listening intently for any clues that would tell him which side Cygnus was on. Inhaling, the smaller man spoke; "And are you? United, that is." Cygnus knew his next words could well decide who they fought for in the coming conflict. It was the underlying insult, though, that made his next words come out in a cold sneer.

"I cannot speak for the other families, but if our ideals are to prevail in any meaningful way over that of those opposed to us then I firmly believe it must be through civilised debate, and not hostile takeover. I would like to say that the Blacks are above the vulgarities he offers, but we are not of one mind." He knew that this Lord Voldemort had the right ideas, and if the man had his way then all the pure-bloods would be much better off in the short run. It was what would happen after the dust settled that worried him. Would they be subjugated by him, as they wished to subjugate the mudbloods? Would they, the Ancient and Noble Houses be at the mercy of a merciless man? Too many risks, thought Cygnus, too many risks.

"Pollux and Arcturus?" The urgency in Crouch's tone was palpable.

"No," said Cygnus with great relief, "I thank Merlin every day that House Black's patriarchs have more control over their foolish sons than the Dark Lord could have anticipated." The fireplace crackled as a log collapsed, embers flying.

"Then who else - "

"Who else disagrees with my conclusions about the Dark Lord?" Cygnus finished, a grimace marring his features, "Why, my darling wife and my sister of course." Crouch raised an eyebrow. "Their pure-blood mania runs deep, almost irrationally so. If Lucretia were still a Black these things would not bother us - but I had the fortune of being wed to Druella, and of course Orion is similarly attached to Walburga. If things had been different perhaps we would not be having this conversation, Barty. To answer your first question; no, we are not at war. Not yet."

His companion sniffed and finished his drink. "Can I count on your door being open then, for the time being?"

"Always. Remember though, it will be open to all." Crouch nodded at his warning, even if it was unsubstantial. He stared down at his empty glass.

"Minister Diggory is being sworn in as we speak. He'll want a meeting once the ceremony is over."

"You need not be present." said Cygnus, not unkindly. "I hear your son is home for the Christmas holidays; go home to your family and enjoy the season." The other man got up and made to collect his coat.

"No, I think I'll get that report for the Albania incident finalised. I'll be in my office if you need me." Cygnus, alone now, poured himself another glass of mead and began to scribble out a letter.

Orion,

I hope your endeavours to create a civilised atmosphere in time for the Christmas season were as successful as mine, you know how our wives get. I will be late to the festivities next week as I am to attend a function with Minister Diggory. In the event that I do not make it in time don't hesitate to begin without me; Druella would have my head for causing a delay. Give my regards to Arcturus and Pollux.

Your Cousin,

Cygnus.

Roughly translated; the letter was an enquiry into whether his dealings with the Malfoys had gone well, a confirmation that he had been chosen over Crouch to attend the Ministry Christmas party with the Minister himself, and an assurance that Orion could pass the information on to their fathers without him being there.

Cygnus sent his owl away with the letter and sat down to finish his third glass of mead. The year had been long. Druella and Walburga were pushing harder than ever for betrothals. Narcissa and the Malfoy heir, Bellatrix with the elder Lestrange brother, and Andromeda with one of Druella's cousins. Cygnus pitied the girls who would soon be subjected to Walburga's eye as she hunted for suitable wives for her sons. There were going to be a lot of changes soon enough. He felt shame bubble up inside, remembering when he had fervently subscribed to Lord Voldemort's methods - before he'd found out about the mutts and half-breeds the man had employed. Orion from the very first had been sceptical, not entirely condoning the way the Dark Lord went about spreading his ideas. He once likened the man to a small child thrashing around on the floor, knocking over whatever deigned to get in his way. The alliance with those animals had been the last straw.

Barbaric and crude, Orion had remarked, and certainly not how House Black got their way.

1st of September 1971 - 1 year into the First Blood War and the Death Eater Rebellion

The students on the Hogwarts Express had long ago settled into their own train compartments; some choosing the first ones available, others going in search of their group's favourite spot. The English countryside sped by, classic scenery punctuated by the subtle rattling of train car doors and furniture. Sighing and entering an empty compartment, Sirius revelled in finding somewhere decent to sit. Before he'd been in sitting with Dromeda, but immediately after the train left the station she'd had to go to the prefect car, leaving him alone with a small group of seventh years. Sirius shuddered. He'd gotten away from that stuffy, overcrowded, perfumed festoon of hormones and make up as fast as possible. Though he'd felt sorry for the other boy who was there; some guy named Edward. Idly, he recalled the look that crossed the older boy's face when Dromeda had gotten up to leave. Poor bloke. Looking around in his new compartment Sirius saw that some magazines, a few scraps of paper, and a discarded Daily Prophet lay on the seat opposite him. On the front page of the unopened paper was his uncle Cygnus, waving stiffly at photographers only he could see. The headline read: Revolution Circa Cygnus Black*: The Tide Turns The subheading just under it: One of the men behind recent pushes for Auror policy reform tells all in exclusive interview with rising star of journalism; Rita Skeeter. The compartment door slid open. Sirius turned to look at the newcomer, ready to tell whomever it was to bugger off.

"Can I sit here?" said the boy. Sirius opened his mouth.

"N-"

"This is the first compartment I've found that hasn't been full."

Being interrupted was not an uncommon occurrence, between his willful mother and numerous cousins he was used to being cut off every now and then. So instead of being ticked off Sirius merely blinked and shrugged; a non-committal gesture that said without so many words that he really did not care. The boy sat down. He was probably in his first year too judging by his size, with black hair that stuck out in funny places, and a pair of glasses adorning his face making his eyes bug out slightly. He looked like a bit of a swot, in Sirius' opinion.

"I'm James Potter." said the boy who was apparently named James Potter. Potter. That meant he must've somehow been related to Sirius' great aunt Dorea. The memory of something blunt slicing through the air, and a voice shrieking 'Again!' came unbidden, and Sirius suppressed a shiver.

"Sirius." Just Sirius. Sirius by itself sounded quite nice, now that he thought about it. After that single exchange though, Sirius couldn't seem to get a word in edgewise. The boy certainly had a mouth on him. He went on and on for ten whole minutes, boasting of the new Nimbus 1001 he'd gotten for his birthday and the spells he already knew how to do and whatever else he pulled out of his arse (all in one sentence, and Sirius was pretty sure he hadn't taken a breath either) until a woman knocked lightly on the window. James got up and opened the door.

"Anything from the trolley dearies?"

James visibly brightened and dug a hand into his pocket. "Five pasties, five liquorice wands, three packets of Bertie Botts', and a dozen chocolate frogs." He grinned, and then faltered. "Please." He added.

The trolley lady smiled indulgently and began to dole out the snacks. James' hand resurfaced and out came a handful of gold coins, along with some lint, a button, and something that looked like it was once alive. He had obviously overpaid her, but James seemed too busy with his haul to listen to her protests. She turned to Sirius and raised her eyebrows. "Are you right love?"

"Six Sugar Quills please." He handed her the correct amount of money and thanked the poor woman, who seemed a bit distressed after the encounter. Sirius sat down again and sucked on one of his treats. The Potters, he knew from his lessons, were a wealthy family - but were they so daft that they forgot to teach their children the value of a galleon? Flashing his money around like that. It made the less wealthy uncomfortable.

As Sirius made to remark on this the door of the compartment slammed open again, this time a girl with red hair bolted in without a word. Sirius made room for her, noticing the skin around her eyes was puffy and red. A second later another boy came in, looking frantic. Sirius, sitting much closer to the window than he had before, was just glad that he'd moved before the other boy came in, concluding that he probably would have been sat upon. James was busy stuffing a pumpkin pasty into his mouth. He tried to smile at the girl with his cheeks still full of food. It looked like it hurt. The boy who'd come after the girl had greasy looking black hair, and a long hooked nose. He was trying to comfort the her. Something about flowers? Petunias?

"But this is it!" the boy exclaimed. "We're finally going off to Hogwarts!" Sirius failed to see what was so exciting about going to school. The girl sniffled at her friend's attempt at comfort (or was that a snort?), and a small smile graced her face. Sirius stiffened at his next words. "You'd better be in Slytherin." The girl nodded and looked to have collected herself.

"Slytherin?" asked James (having finally inhaled the remains of his snack). He still had crumbs all over his clothes. "Who'd want to be in Slytherin?" What a great question. Before he knew it Sirius was asking himself the same. Being in Slytherin had never felt so off-putting until then. James turned to him, obviously looking for moral support.

Sirius smirked. "My whole family were Slytherins, back in their day."

"Blimey..." James' eyes bulged, looking at Sirius in a new light, "And I thought you were alright." There was something amusing about the talkative swot, and somewhere in the conversation, Sirius decided that he liked it.

"Maybe I'll break tradition then." he retorted without missing a beat. "So where are you headed then, if you've got a choice?"

James puffed out his chest. "Gryffindor." He proudly declared. "Where dwell the brave of heart; just like my dad!" The greasy haired boy snickered and James rounded on him. "Got a problem with that?" The rest of the train ride became a blur.

There was an argument, and the red-haired girl had turned out just as stuck-up as her greasy friend. He and Snivellus weren't all that different, when he thought about it - they were both seemingly headed for Slytherin. He pushed that thought away. Snivellus was an oily, high-strung git, who had clearly allowed the expectations go to his head. James was alright though. His expectations were entirely his own. They formed a bond over their mutual disdain for Snivellus. Okay, so he was not as swot-ish as Sirius had first assumed. They became fast friends owing to his enthusiasm over Quidditch, both finding common ground in their support for the Falmouth Falcons. Though James had seemed distracted at first, going on about the girl until Sirius oh-so-tactfully brought up the subject of the great wizarding sport.

His entire family had been in the house of the snake. They wanted him there, and yet the more Sirius thought about it the clearer it became - he knew that while everybody else was fine to go along with expectations, he was not. And while everyone else seemed to have a place to go Sirius, on the other hand, didn't particularly belong anywhere.

A pair of pale green eyes fluttered open accompanied by a lethargic stretching of the neck muscles; Remus looked around at the empty compartment. Briefly, he wondered if anyone had come in while he was asleep. He stopped himself from snorting. As if the scars weren't enough to scare any fellow first years off. Remus was wide awake now though, noticing that the compartment lights were on. That meant it was nearly time to get off. He drew the curtains and quickly changed into his school robes. A few sizes too big, (he had insisted he would grow into them), they hung off him awkwardly. At least his mum had the mind to hem them so that he wouldn't trip - now if only he could learn to do it himself for all his trousers.

Remus pulled out the book he'd been reading. It was slightly old and worn like most of his books, and at the same time the outside observer could tell it was very well looked after, the spine undamaged and the corners reinforced with leather. Remus loved this book. It was one of his favourites; a story about cities in the sky, demons and angels, armoured bears and aeronauts, and of all things witches. The way this muggle wrote witches was sort of funny - they flew on cloud pine branches broken off at random (didn't they get splinters?), and they lived for centuries and didn't use any wands. Of course it was a muggle book. Remus put his feet up and wriggled until he got comfortable, setting the book against his drawn up knees and once again immersing himself.

There was a muffled thump. Remus glanced up from his book for a moment. Nothing of significance, he concluded, and resumed reading. A second later, there came a sound that made him sit up. Raised voices filtered in through the cracks in the compartment door; something was going on outside. Remus got up and peered through the curtains. A boy and girl were arguing out in the hall, a few compartments down. Remus noticed that several people had poked their heads out to see what all the commotion was about. They both looked like sixth or maybe even seventh year. The metallic glint of a badge caught his eye - a prefect? The girl seemed to have snapped, unable to hide her face from all of the onlookers she rushed away from the scene. The boy shouted at the people who'd been watching them and they all ducked back into their compartments. He came after her then, and managed to stop her right outside Remus' door. Remus drew away from the curtain unsure about intruding on such a private moment.

"We'll talk about it later Ted." Said the girl. Her voice was thick, as if something were blocking her throat.

"I just want a straight answer from you." Remus knew that tone. Desperation. "Please." The boy named Ted begged.

"Not now. I can't." She choked out. Remus felt like he should have been blocking his ears.

"Andy... I - I love you." Ted's voice was quieter now.

"Let me go!" She cried - he heard the beginnings of tears in her broken voice. Remus had had enough of this. The boy was clearly upsetting her. He had to - to do something. Remus steeled his nerves, ignoring the voice in his head that told him he was making a mistake, and opened the compartment door. The pair outside jumped slightly once they saw him. He tried his best to look sleepy, allowing his eyes to droop and his posture to relax.

"Is it time to get off the train yet?" Remus prayed and prayed that they wouldn't see through his act. He had no idea what he was doing - but she'd just sounded so tiredand he just wouldn't stop pushing. The boy named Ted emitted a deep sigh through his nose, shook his head (Remus didn't think Ted was answering his question though) and walked away. The girl - what had he called her? Andy? She pushed some hair out of her face and smiled at him.

"No it's not time, but we'll be there soon enough."

Remus blinked. "Oh. Okay." He turned and went back into the compartment to resume reading the book he had abandoned. Behind the pages of his book Remus could hear her footsteps entering the small space. Determinedly staring at the words, he tried to give her privacy. He doubted she wanted anyone to see her so vulnerable - he knew if he were in her place he wouldn't even want people near him, let alone strangers.

"Is this your first year at Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"What are you reading?"

"Muggle book."

"What house do you think you'll be in?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know anyone already? Any brothers or sisters that go there?"

"No."

"My name's Andromeda."

"Remus Lupin."

The compartment was silent then, except for when Remus moved to turn the page of his book.

"Thank you. For what you did back there." That made him look up. She was smiling slightly knowingly at him through kindly brown eyes. "It was brave of you." Remus felt his ears grow hot and he hastily hid his face inside the book again. He'd been short with her. He was always like that with new people. New people were often like that to him though. At least he knew that the ones that stuck around were worth befriending. They sat in companionable silence. She seemed happy to read a discarded magazine on the seat beside her, and Remus continued reading his book.

He had precious few friends - a handful of neighbours. Older men and women who he sometimes weeded gardens and cleaned out gutters for, though some would say that it didn't count. It did to Remus. They liked him, despite his initial awkwardness. And they paid him fairly for his work. They had been wary of him in the beginning even without prior knowledge of his affliction (Remus knew people were instinctively going to avoid him), but that quickly faded once they realised he was willing to work hard. After a while the old women took to bringing him iced tea and biscuits after an afternoon's worth of hard work, and the old men told him stories about their youth and offered to teach him how to play chess. Remus wasn't sure he could make friends with his classmates by helping them out in their gardens though. On the whole, he wasn't that sure anyone would be up to making friends with a werewolf.

The train slowed to a stop. It was time to get off and Remus felt farther than ever from being brave, despite what Andromeda had said. What if the letter from Hogwarts had been a mistake? No. It had his name and address on it. His dad had even gone to Hogwarts the year before in order to help set things up. He tried to convince himself that things would be fine, and it worked but he couldn't help the small, poisonous thought that occurred to him; it would be so easy for someone to stumble in on his transformation, what with the hundreds of students there. The staff of Hogwarts were dwarfed in comparison by their population - they couldn't possibly keep track of everyone. Never mind if and how he'd make any friends; what would Remus do if he hurt someone?

James felt giddy. It might have been the sugar, or the lack of sleep (he'd tossed and turned the previous night), but he simply couldn't stop shifting and fidgeting. People began to move off and grab spots on the boats. Snapping to attention, he rushed to an empty vessel and plunked himself down. Sirius took the seat next to him a second later. When they had gotten around to a conversation on the train, James had found that Sirius possessed a very cynical and dark sense of humour, that and their shared devotion to the Falcons had earned the boy a place in James' "alright" books. James was ecstatic about making a new friend already. Sure his mum, dad, and Colonel Tufty were good company, but James had never really been around kids his age. The society dinners he sometimes got suckered into attending with his parents consisted of being talked down to by musty smelling, balding, and altogether dull men, along with whomever their escort for the night had been (the women were usually young, superficially pretty, and from what James could tell, quite empty-headed). Whenever children of the guests had attended they all were in nappies, or much too old to be living off of their parents - meaning James was left to fend for himself.

A small boy stood at the edge of the crowd looking a little lost. He looked no more than eight years old, with small watery eyes and wispy brown hair. James pursed his lips. "Oi, you over there!" He saw the boy hesitate and give him a questioning smile. James made his decision. "Have you got a boat yet? We've still got room." The boy rushed over and hopped aboard.

"Thanks, I wasn't really paying attention before... When er, Hagrid was telling us about the boats." he laughed a bit awkwardly.

James grinned. "Me neither." Next to him, Sirius let out a short cough of derision. "How'd'you do. I'm James. James Potter. This here's Sirius."

Encouraged by his friendliness, the boy perked up. "I'm Peter." There was little about him in terms of stature, but the boy knew how to talk. James struck up a banter, as it wasn't yet time to cast off, pleased to discover that they agreed on a lot of things.

"So. What house d'you think you'll be in?" Peter was much more open it seemed given the opportunity.

"Gryffindor!" James bellowed. His enthusiasm caused both of his new friends to laugh. Another boy showed up next to their boat. James was slightly taken aback by the scars that criss-crossed his face, and a feeling of general apprehensiveness that made him pause. He ploughed through the uneasy pull of his senses and stuck out his hand.

"James Potter." he said glibly, ushering the boy the on to boat after a brisk shake of the hand. You can tell a man's worth by the way he shakes your hand, son. Charlus Potter had once told him. If that was true, then this boy must have been worth something.

"Remus Lupin." He settled in the spot next to Peter. James pushed off from shore when he saw some other boats doing so. They made their way across the lake, and soon collective gasps were heard as the castle came into sight. James had never seen anything half so large. The feeling of grandeur was not lost on anyone. It loomed, and jutted, and went every which-way; a startling shape that rose above the ground around it - a sentinel that promised protection and knowledge. James was nearly overwhelmed by an urge to shout and clap his hands together stupidly (something he hadn't done since Colonel Tufty came into the family). Hogwarts was beautiful.

A cursory glance at the others on his boat told him they thought much the same. Remus had put his book down, (a book outside of school?) unable to read in the fading light, but also because he couldn't stop staring. He seemed to want to drink in the school with his eyes, the level of wonder only rivalled by muggle-borns. James would have suspected that Remus was a muggle-born too, if he hadn't briefly remarked on his family apothecary. But then, James wasn't sure if muggles had those or not - they probably did seeing as they didn't have magic to help them out with cuts and bruises - but surely they wouldn't be named something so... wizard-ish? Peter looked as if he was going to burst any second how. Sirius tried to look nonchalant - and failed. Eleven year olds didn't look nonchalant. What kind of expression would that even be on someone so young, anyway?

From the corner of his eye James saw a great splash of copper catch what was left of the sunset. It was that girl; the one on the train. A mixture of annoyance and outrage (and something else that was as far unnameable) filled James, remembering how easily she had batted aside his attempts at friendship in favour of that greasy, smarmy, no-good git. The thought of Snivellus - even his name - left a bitter taste in James' mouth. How dare they both? James had been entirely polite until it became clear Snivellus would sooner jump off the train than be civil. And the way she had looked at him. Spurned him. The both of them deserved each other, as far as he was concerned. Though quietly (James would deny it to his last breath if asked at that moment) he reckoned she would have been very pretty had she not been scowling.

Minerva McGonagall paused at the doors to the Great Hall, turning to face the freshest batch of first years. They were a typical bunch; a group of around thirty students with varied backgrounds - with the single exception of the quiet boy who stood slightly apart from his classmates. In all her years she had never met one in person before. A werewolf that is. What could the Headmaster be thinking? If something were to happen the Ministry would be all over him like dragon pox. She felt herself tense when their eyes met. Lupin. That was it. His eyes were green. Minerva hadn't known what to expect, but felt silly - and then ashamed - for being confused by how human he looked. She had expected yellow eyes, that much she knew; the eyes of a beast. But they weren't; they were green and excited, and perhaps a little afraid - just like every other first year. Albus said she'd know it when she saw him - the werewolf - the boy. The scars were telling, of course. Minerva had a feeling though, that even without any scars she would have known. Their eyes met and she knew. And he saw that she knew. The boy flinched. Another unexpected turn. He is more a frightened rabbit than a wolf. The novelty soon wore off though, when Lupin's eyes refocused and held her there in defiance. A subtle raising of the eyebrow was all Minerva's face betrayed of her surprise; every time she settled on a conclusion, a box to stick him into, Lupin did something that changed her mind. So the boy had a backbone. She hoped it would serve him well during his Hogwarts career.

"When you enter the Great Hall you will do so with order. Sit on the stool when I call your name and after the Hat finishes sorting you into your respective houses you may go and sit down. You may call me Professor McGonagall, I am the head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress. It is my pleasure to welcome everyone to Hogwarts be you Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff or Gryffindor." She opened the doors with a sweep of her hand and led the first years inside.

"Black, Sirius."

The stool was warm. The hat was warm. Everything felt so thick and warm and nice for once, and all Sirius wanted to do was go back to that cold place he used to reside and breathe in the thin air he had lived on, been raised on. That changed as soon as the familiar sensation of something gliding through his mind set in. He hadn't expected this sickening reminder of what he had finally left behind.

"Ah... Another Black." Sirius froze, following the smallest stiffening of his spine. An intrusion into something private, something hidden... and yet it didn't feel all that bad. Different, by far, to the stinging and probing violation he remembered. But still the panic set in. He shut it down, just like he had taught himself. Suppress. Empty. Compartmentalise. Every thought was a neat little singularity that went into a locked box. "I see you know some tricks Mr. Black... Very adept; indeed were this anyone else then your secrets would be quite safe... No, you cannot hide from me." The Sorting Hat. Sirius wanted to laugh. It wasn't some cruel teacher, some unseen assailant - it was just the Hat. "I see great potential Mr. Black. You could go far in the house of the snake. Such intelligence, such cunning..."

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. No.

"No?" The Hat paused and seemed to sift through his head without restraint. Sirius was reminded inexplicably of James. He'd been so free; so uninhibited. Standing up for himself in the train, barging his way in without fear of rejection. "I see drive. Desire for change. Loyalty. Uncommon talent. Hmm... Then it had better be; GRYFFINDOR!" Those sat at the Gryffindor table murmured to each other. Sirius glanced over at where he presumed the Slytherin table was. Andromeda sat near the front with Narcissa and her boyfriend and a few of the girls he'd seen on the train. She looked surprised, and then offered an encouraging smile.

James Potter broke into raucous cheers and applause, and all eyes turned on him. His claps echoed in the Great Hall like a beacon, as if signalling to all that it was okay. Slowly there were claps, and then all at once things felt right and people were patting him on the back and nodding their heads in acceptance. Sirius sat himself down at the head of the Gryffindor dining table, unable to hide his relief. His face hurt from smiling so much.

More names were read and some new Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws joined their respective houses.

"Evans, Lily." Severus watched gleefully as Lily made her way to the stool. Through everything that had occurred in the last three years she was his sole comfort, other than the prospect of Hogwarts. Hogwarts. Seeing it today was something Severus would never forget, and when Lily slipped her hand into his as they sat on that boat, he knew he was home. The Hat was on her head and scarcely a minute later the rip in the brim opened. "GRYFFINDOR!" Severus saw Lily get up. She bounded down, red hair flying. She was going to the wrong table. He tried to call to her, tell her that Slytherin was the other way, but she wouldn't listen, her new house was already welcoming her into the fold from afar. Lily kept on walking toward the table under the red and gold banners, and Severus' world went a little bit darker.

More sortings. More lives changed irrevocably as friends became divided.

"Lupin, Remus." Remus' knees wanted to give way under the scrutiny of the Hogwarts teaching staff, but his traitorous brain would not let them. He saw it when they looked at him. Werewolf. Their eyes, their posture, their breathing; he was the predator, and yet he'd never felt so small.

"Lupin... Lupin... I remember sorting your father, Mr. Lupin. Yes... Interesting man. Ravenclaw, he was. I see the same thirst for knowledge... A strong desire to prove yourself..."

So what if he did? "What to do, what to do..." Remus was assaulted with the memory of the train, the boy - Ted - and the girl - Andromeda. "He has courage..." He was annoyed by the Hat's tone of surprise, and at the same time he scrambled to refute it's claims; he had been terrified on the train. "Do not deny it Remus Lupin. There is more to bravery than being fearless." The Hat was silent for a time. Remus wanted this to be over with. Mum would be closing the shop around now, probably beginning to wrap up parcels of herbs for their mail order service; he hoped that she was alright by herself. "Ah; I see kindness too, so rare to find in the cruelty of youth. Yes... you certainly belong to GRYFFINDOR!"

Remus stopped listening after that. Every sound came muffled in his ears. He sat down after being waved over by Sirius, a boy he'd met on the boats. When the cotton in his ears cleared, Peter, the cheerful boy whom he'd also shared a boat with, sat on his other side. There were only a handful of students left to sort.

"Potter, James." James'd gone on and on about the house, so it wasn't much of a surprise when the Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" With all the confidence of somebody famous he walked to his spot beside Sirius and bowed to his new house mates using flamboyant hand gestures that earned himself a few chuckles from the teacher's table. None of the boys bothered listening to the Sorting Ceremony any more.

"We made it. We're in Gryffindor." said James.

Sirius grinned liked they'd planned the whole thing. "Where dwell the brave of heart."

Notes:

General opinions and explanations, read if you want (These are getting a bit long, but they aren't essential to the story. Just for anyone who wants a look.)

On previously unseen events (otherwise known as the stuff that I've made up); Well I'm not going to lie. There will be a fair amount of it. Not just interactions between the Marauders, not just James and Lily, not just Sirius and Remus - more unexpected than that I would say. I wouldn't write anything absolutely impossible, like James and Severus becoming friends - but if for instance I wrote a scene between Orion and Walburga, or Lucius and Severus, or like in this chapter a scene between Remus and Andromeda. It isn't unbelievable that Ted and Andromeda were having issues, what with him being a muggle-born and her being a Black, coupled with the fact that they were graduating that year. The leap from one to the other isn't far. Any scenes that I write that are non-canonical I want to keep believable.

On shifting the omniscient perspective; I'll be doing that sometimes. Maybe without warning.

On Ted Tonks; Ted Tonks' first name is Edward. "Ted" is merely a nickname. His grandson is Edward Remus "Teddy" Lupin. Not Theodore, as some are wont to claim. Amazing, the things you can find out with a bit of research.

On Cygnus Black; I believe the Blacks, like other pure-blood families have always had their claws in high politics, maybe even more so than the others. I reckon that's partially why they owned Grimmauld Place, and spent their time there rather than in a stuffy old manor like the Malfoys (who preferred to exercise their influence on the Ministry through money) - to have a base of operations close to the Ministry of Magic. Cygnus is said to have been born in 1938, but doing the maths this puts him at around the age of 13 when his daughter Bellatrix was born. So either this is another mathematical error on Rowling's part, or she is not so subtly telling us that the wizarding world is fraught with teen pregnancy. This Cygnus Black will be a year younger than Orion who was born in 1929 (who's wife was born apparently when her father was 13 also) which would make him 41 (and have him be 21 when he had Bellatrix). Do not misunderstand the way I've written him. In no way does he believe that muggle-borns can ever be his equals, he just knows that things won't go well if Voldemort were to seize power. Anyway, Cygnus is a cool name. I love it.

On Rita Skeeter; I'm sure she was around back then as a journalist. According to Rowling (and my maths) she would have been 20 years old in 1971. I can imagine it now. Fresh out of Hogwarts, with a reputation as the local gossip monger. She writes some feature articles on a few B-list celebrities and manages to drum up publicity for them with careful suggestions about their possible night-time forays. Her talent for stirring up the average reader does not go unnoticed, and before long the offer of an internship at the Prophet is up in the air. And so begins her rise to infamy as the quickest, most biased quill in the game. Her loyalties, I feel, lie with drama that is life above all, and they'd best stay there - I mean can you imagine a world where Rita Skeeter could be bought off? No one would be safe. Anyone who went against her employers would have their name shredded in the papers (how cool is that though, to have that much power over somebody's standing). I've always felt that she writes because she enjoys it, to quote Hermione "Anything for a story, anyone will do.", rather than because she is paid to do it. Even if no one else likes her much I actually find her fascinating. Maybe I'll write something.

On the Black's reputation; Last chapter, Sirius made a passing comment about his family's reputation. This chapter shows that his uncle Cygnus is gaining media attention and is in a powerful position in the Ministry. This might be a bit confusing. While some may say that getting a bit of media exposure is hardly damaging to one's reputation, Sirius sees it as something of an embarrassment to be a stooge of the government. The Blacks were also well and truly established as a 'dark' family, with deep connections to the Dark Arts. Their great wealth and station most likely drove jealous members of society to spread rumours about them, probably questioning the legitimacy of the money and power they possessed. Plus, everybody knew that Walburga was off her rocker (it was a wonder they let her go outside), which you could blame on the centuries of inbreeding.

On James' Nimbus 1001; Nimbus Racing Broom Co. released their first broomstick, the Nimbus 1000 in 1967, since I can't find anything else about dates, I'm going to assume the 1001 was manufactured soon after. Considering that the Nimbus 2000 was a new broom when Harry had started at Hogwarts it's safe to say that the time between the release of each new model of broom was relatively short. I'm thinking 2-5 years? It won't be making an appearance until second year though, since first years aren't allowed to bring broomsticks to school.

On James and Lily's first encounter; I ended up skipping most of it, and editing some, and only wrote it in order to get Sirius' point of view out there. James would have looked like a bit of a nerd. Messy hair, glasses, weirdly enthusiastic - does that not scream nerd to you? Nothing against nerds of course (nerds are the bees knees. Sirius, after this, may think so too).

On James' sorting; I honestly had no interest in writing how he was sorted. He had his moment to shine when Sirius was sorted anyway. Why give him more screen-time when I know it will only serve to slow me down?

On the Falmouth Falcons; The name struck me - as many names do. The team exists in canon.

On the Lupin family apothecary; One of the changes I've made is the addition of a family apothecary, which Lyall and Hope have maintained together since Lyall left his position in the Ministry. Canonically speaking, the Lupins constantly moved from village to village after the residents began to notice their son's strange behaviour. In this, they do not move, so much as keep it very hush-hush. I wonder why they got found out so often though, considering Lyall was a fully grown wizard capable silencing charms and magical wards. And okay, if "strange behaviour" is enough grounds to be accused of lycanthropy then people like Luna Lovegood would have been chased out of town long ago. Honestly? Canon doesn't make much sense to me on this topic.

On Remus' eyes; They are actually green, canonically, so no gripes please. Fanon has them amber coloured usually. (Is it the werewolf thing?)

On Remus' book; Being slightly naughty here - the book that Remus is reading hasn't actually been published yet, in fact it doesn't get published until 1995.

On Hogwarts' school uniform; Robes, as described by Rowling in her books, are loose-fitting garments worn by every member of wizarding society. I have looked it up and apparently Hogwarts students don't wear anything but underwear underneath their plain black school robes. The movies had Harry and co. wearing pretty much standard private school uniforms under open robes, and later on the robes had coloured lining and trims along with house crests. I've decided to keep the canonical plain black style robes without crests, but have the students wear pants/skirts and dress shirts underneath (Plus scarves, beanies, jumpers that are house colour themed).

On the Sorting Hat; In the books only the wearer is able to hear the Hat talk to them, and then the whole school gets to hear when it announces the house. The Sorting Hat interests me. Does it read your mind or read your heart? Or does it do both and consider them one and the same? I firmly believe it has the ability to see your memories and thoughts though, or else how does it sort anyone?

On Colonel Tufty; My OC. He's a very large white Norwegian Forest cat. And he is quite terrified of wands. (Ha.)

On the Minister for Magic; There is a gap from 1968 to 1980, in which Nobby Leach had no successor, and Millicent Bagnold had no predecessor. I will be taking advantage of that gap (so conveniently placed right around the beginning of the First Wizarding War and sandwiched just before the end), and inserting Minister Eldritch Diggory into place (distantly related to Amos and Cedric possibly). It is not specified when he served his term as Minister, so therefore it is perfectly plausible for him to have been Minister during this time. I'd have used Lorcan McLaird, but my sources say he was a bit of a nutter. Who chooses the Minister, anyway?

On the Sacred Twenty-Eight;The Sacred Twenty-Eight is a list of the existing pure-blood families at the time it was made. The list includes the Weasley, Shacklebolt, Longbottom, and Prewett families. Strangely, the Potters are not included in this list though they are a very old and wealthy family.

*"Revolution Circa Cygnus Black": As written on the front of the 1971 September 1st Daily Prophet (it wasn't actually, I took the liberty of making that bit up). 'Circa' is what precedes a date when you describe an event i.e. "The church was built circa 1820." In this case the play on words literally means "The revolution was built around Cygnus black." This is referring to something that we'll get to later on.