A/N: Set between James Potter and the Immortal Icon (Year One) and James Potter and the Shrieking Shack (Year Two). Although you can read the interludes in any order, this one is chronologically first, followed by Wormtail's Story and then Moony's Story.
Interlude: Summer 1972
They were perfectly civil on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. They greeted him with bland smiles and questions of How was your year? and Did you make lots of friends? and What would you like for supper, dear? Anyone who didn't know better would think them a perfectly normal, perfectly happy family.
Anyone who mattered knew better.
But appearances had to be maintained. Orion and Walburga Black understood that better than most, as did their younger son, Regulus, who flashed his brother one warm smile before adopting a practiced, neutral expression and positioned himself half a step behind his mother. The Blacks, after all, were one of the oldest and purest wizarding families in Britain, and it wouldn't do for their reputation to be tarnished further than it already had been. That meant no arguments, no insults, no children acting like children… Until they returned home to Grimmauld Place.
Sirius, too, knew that family disputes were best kept within the family. The whole world already knew that he opposed his parents' blood-purist attitude; he could hear whispers skittering here and there in the gathered crowd as he followed his parents toward the barrier, so it wasn't as though he had to make a scene.
"Is that…?"
"No! You think so?"
"I can't believe it!"
"…only rumors?"
"A Black? In Gryffindor?"
Sirius didn't know whether to grin in triumph or cower in fear as a vein pulsed in his father's neck, so he settled on a bored expression as he let his eyes and mind wander. He didn't for one moment regret his Sorting. After all, if he hadn't been in Gryffindor, he wouldn't have met the three best friends in the world.
A few feet away, round-faced and twitchy as always but chattering excitedly to his smiling parents, was Peter Pettigrew. Sirius wondered idly whether Peter had already asked to have his friends over, and whether his parents had agreed. Since the Pettigrews were purebloods, there was a chance, however slim, that Sirius would be allowed to go if he didn't antagonize his parents too much between now and then. He would have to remember to thank James for keeping him from pranking Cissy and Malfoy on the train, for that certainly wouldn't have improved his odds.
Sirius shot a furtive glance at his parents, who were thoroughly ignoring him in favor of their high-bred friends – the Malfoys, the Lestranges and the Rosiers, among others. Satisfied that his parents were sufficiently distracted, Sirius scanned the crowd for a glimpse of unruly black hair.
There, in the middle of a group of wizards rivaling the Blacks' cohort (except that this other group was actually smiling), stood the Potters. As Sirius watched, James nodded politely at something a witch said, then rolled his eyes as soon as she turned away. Mrs. Potter saw this and scowled at her son, who put on an innocent grin. Sirius couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as Mrs. Potter's disapproval melted away into a fond shake of her head.
"Rather unfortunate, isn't it, Walburga, dear?"
"Yes… unfortunate." Mrs. Black's voice was carefully controlled, but Sirius didn't miss the venom in the tone and he turned to find her gazing at him with a dark fire in her eyes. "But that's in the past now. We'll just have to make the best of the situation."
The other witch – Rolanda Wilkes, Sirius thought, though he'd never been able to tell Mrs. Wilkes and Mrs. Avery apart – went on talking, but Sirius ignored her, as did Mrs. Black, who was staring at her elder son as though daring him to argue. Her expression promised severe punishment if he insisted on continuing to defy the family.
Sirius adopted what he hoped was a convincingly innocent expression. (Once, he would have gone for apologetic, but he thought that might be overdoing it a bit at the moment, after all the trouble he'd gone to to prove that he wasn't sorry for his Sorting.) Mrs. Black eyed him critically for a moment before turning pointedly back to Mrs. Wilkes.
Settling into his public persona, which Sirius had privately termed his Prank Face, Sirius resigned himself to a long wait. His spine was straight, his shoulders back, his face a carefully neutral, respectful mask so any adult glancing his way would be assured he wasn't thinking of causing trouble. This, Sirius had discovered through long years of boring social functions, was the best way to avoid notice— and thus, to avoid punishment, deserved or otherwise.
The crowd around the Potters was moving toward the barrier now, breaking apart with promises to get in touch over the summer; Peter's family was nowhere to be seen. Sirius allowed himself the smallest of sighs.
Regulus' brows pulled together ever-so-slightly as he peered at his brother. Sirius scowled and turned away.
And then, after an agonizingly drawn-out series of farewells, Mr. and Mrs. Black led their sons through the barrier, out of King's Cross, and to the nearest apparition point. Never mind that Grimmauld Place was only a short walk away, Sirius thought as his mother held out her hand to Regulus, while Mr. Black grabbed Sirius rather more roughly. Never mind that by apparating they were only saving about a quarter hour. Merlin forbid the noble Blacks actually stoop so low as to walk, like ordinary muggles.
Mr. Black's fingers dug into Sirius' arm as the man turned on the spot. There came the familiar, uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed and twisted and spat back out, and then they were standing just outside Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. A few of their muggle neighbors were out enjoying the warm weather, but none of them showed any sign of having seen the family of four appearing from thin air. They wouldn't have; Sirius' parents had paid handsomely to have Ministry wizards create a licensed apparition point for the Blacks' personal use just outside the front door.
All four Blacks were stiff and silent as they entered the house, but as soon as the door shut behind them, Sirius knew all bets were off.
"Regulus, darling," said Mrs. Black tightly, her eyes fixed on Sirius. "Go wash up. We'll have supper in a bit."
Regulus shot Sirius a sympathetic look but, perfect son he was, he put up no protest as the trudged toward the stairs. His footsteps on the stairs, however, carried too easily to the entryway, and his bedroom door closed just a hair too quickly, which meant, no doubt, that Regulus was hiding somewhere out of sight to eavesdrop on the conversation his mother so obviously didn't want him to hear. Sirius smirked.
"Wipe that insufferable smile off your face!" Mrs. Black snapped, towering over Sirius. Her face had lost its cordial, refined expression and was instead twisted into a furious scowl. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Sirius feigned confusion. "Whatever do you mean, Mother?"
"DON'T GET CHEEKY WITH ME, YOUNG MAN!" Mrs. Black screamed, loud enough that Regulus probably would have been able to hear it from the attic, let alone the second landing. "Eleven years of raising you to be an upstanding wizard, and look what happens the instant I let you out of my sight! You go and get yourself Sorted into Gryffindor— Gryffindor!"
"In my defense," Sirius pointed out bitterly, "that was kind of the Sorting Hat's fault." Never mind that I threatened to feed it to a dragon if it put me in Slytherin…
"YOU BE QUIET WHEN YOUR MOTHER IS SPEAKING TO YOU!" Mr. Black roared.
Sirius snorted, but shut his mouth. He slouched against the immaculate wall, fixing his eyes on the silver serpent chandelier, which the house elf, Kreacher, must have polished recently, for it cast glittering reflections on the emerald walls.
Mrs. Black went on, drawing herself up to her full height as though to make her next words seem more important. "As if your disgraceful Sorting weren't enough," she spat, "the very next thing you do is run off and make friends with that blood-traitor brat! Potter! Coarse, ungrateful blights on all of wizardkind, and I'm sure the boy is every bit as miserable as his father— DON'T YOU MAKE THAT FACE AT ME!"
Sirius' fists were clenched at his side, his lips parted in a snarl, his eyes blazing. He wanted to scream, to shout at his parents as they always shouted at him. James is nothing like that! He's the best friend I've ever had!
But even as he opened his mouth to say as much, Sirius thought of Peter's promise to have them all over that summer. Sirius needed to be in his parents' good graces if he would ever be allowed to go. For a fleeting minute, he thought, To hell with that! I'm not gonna let them bad-mouth my friend to my face!
Then go ahead and scream yourself blue, said a voice in his head, a wry, playful voice that sounded remarkably like James. Tell them what's-what! And then sit back and enjoy your victory as they lock you in your room for the rest of the summer.
I can't just agree with them, Sirius argued.
He could almost hear James laughing, could practically see the mischievous gleam in his eyes. You could pull one over on them, the voice suggested impishly. You could make it the biggest prank ever. Six years playing the reformed Gryffindor, pretending to be doing what they want you to… Just think of their faces when you move out and you tell them we've been friends all along! It'll be great!
Sirius hesitated.
Besides… the voice added slyly. It would be good practice for lying to McGonagall.
At that, Sirius grinned, although he quickly turned it into a contrite expression. "You're right, Mother."
Mrs. Black's voice faltered, and she scrutinized her son for any signs of sarcasm. Sirius tried to look earnest. "What?"
"You're right," Sirius repeated. "I apologize for my conduct and for bringing disgrace on the family."
His parents stared at him in shock and suspicion, and Sirius reminded himself not to overdo it.
"But I am in Gryffindor," he went on, letting a note of defiance seep into his voice. "I can't go around making friends with Slytherins. It just isn't done!"
"You can't go around making friends with blood-traitors is what you can't do!" Mrs. Black retorted. "Think what that says about us! I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THAT!"
Sirius crossed his arms. "Well, then, what am I supposed to do, make friends with the other Gryffindors?"
"IT'S GOT TO BE BETTER THAN CONSORTING WITH A POTTER!"
"You can't tell me there aren't any other purebloods in your year," Mr. Black growled, looming threateningly over his son.
Cringing in a way that was only partially feigned, Sirius stared at the ground. "Well..."
"Yes?" Mr. Black pressed. "Speak up, boy!"
"There's Frank Longbottom and Peter Pettigrew."
Mr. Black's face lit up. "Longbottom!"
But Mrs. Black was already shaking her head. "The Longbottoms have been getting awfully friendly with the Potters lately. If he larks about with one, it's only a matter of time until the other comes along."
"Pettigrew, then. They're a bit... middling..."
"A far sight better than a Potter," Mrs. Black pointed out.
Mr. Black nodded, and turned back to Sirius. "Very well. From now on, Peter Pettigrew can be your friend."
"What?" Sirius cried, feigning indignation, even as his heart leapt. "But—"
"That's final! Now go wash up. Supper is in ten minutes."
Scowling, Sirius turned and stomped up the stairs. He heard Regulus dart into his room, but paid his brother no mind. Once he reached his room, he slammed the door behind him and flopped down on his bed, grinning triumphantly. They bought it! I can't believe they bought it!
Yeah, said the James-like voice in his head. Now you've just got to keep it up the rest of the summer.
And he would. He would stay out of trouble, only defy his parents in small ways - ways that wouldn't upset his chances of staying over at Peter's house. It would be tricky, no doubt, but Sirius loved a challenge. And if he managed to pull it off, it would be the best prank ever.
