Author: shyangell & MorningDawn
DISCLAIMER: All the fictional characters appearing in this fanfiction story are not mine, they're J.K. Rowling's; and they are being used with the only purpose of personal entertainment.
This story has been FINALLY revised. THIS CHAPTER IS NEWLY BETAED.
CHAPTER 7
Sirius Black trough James Potter's eyes: on the off chance, of Defense and Offence
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. ( Reinhold Niebuhr)
Everybody knew that Severus Snape was obsessed with the Dark Arts, and that he probably was the one with a wider knowledge in the field from all students currently attending Hogwarts. But if there ever was someone who got remotely close to Snape, that was Sirius. Not another pureblood canny power-thirsty cunning Slytherin, but Sirius. Well, Sirius was a pureblood.
Perhaps, upon reflection, the greatest difference between them was intent. Although Sirius practically knew, or had heard about any curse in the book, every dark creature and artefact in existence, he didn't relish the practice of the Dark Arts itself.
But Sirius, it turned out, wasn't particularly upset by the use of black magic, and definitely not as much as he should have been had he actually been normal. Most people would've been revolted by things he merely considered unfortunate. Which doesn't go to say Sirius was heartless, because he wasn't. He had merely been... desensitized.
He found himself in the awkward position of sitting in a kind of wizarding middle-ground. He cared to learn anything that would serve him, keeping to some kind of moderately strict moral standards. He cared for the Dark Arts only for how they would help his knowledge of people, of possible future enemies, and perhaps most relevantly to secure his security and that of those close to him.
Sirius arrived to Hogwarts already being capable of casting the nastiest stinging spell James ever had the misfortune of encountering. Then the Slytherin slimy smelly bigots discovered how able he was with that other spell… what's-its-name… anyways, the one that left painful scratches and red blotches all over your target. Yes, that one.
As of late, his favourite was a truly nasty Apneo curse. Apparently it left the victim unable to breathe properly for as long the spell held, although it was never meant to kill. At least it didn't unless you held it long enough. And Sirius wasn't going to do that. People mouthed and gasped when it was cast upon them, and coughed violently when released. Emmeline Vance told him it was supposed to be rather like holding someone's head underwater; air burning in your lungs, your vision swimming because of asphyxia. Not that Sirius had done it to her.
Then there was that non-verbal hex that was able to throw someone backwards a few yards. It truly was one of his favourites. He used it a lot, and it provided some fantastic dramatic flair to any episode with asshole viper Slytherins and such. He usually pulled that one out when someone's bigotry made him lose his temper (often), and possibly felt like punching them… Which really meant no-one important was harmed. And to James, that was everything.
Sirius was like a bomb about to set off ninety-nine percent of the time he was awake. You could learn to get on his right side, to could even start to predict his outbursts, to learn to deflect and avoid them… but you could never ever aspire to control them. Or suffocate them. Sirius' ire, once unleashed had to run its entire course before it died down.
His family was the key to all that barely suppressed anger. Other things as well, but it was mostly his family. Sirius' family was entirely prejudicial to his friend's health, and by extension to everyone else's. Sirius might very well be developing an ulcer soon, and everyone else might need to start wearing helmets. Sirius just didn't deal with stress and upsetting situations like any sane person. James didn't know if Sirius actually felt pain over his family. They were guys, and you just don't talk about these things. But he bottled it all up, and other people sure as hell felt pain loud and clear when a hex came their way. Most of them deserved it, but some even he had to admit were just being there.
The Black Family's uniquely prejudicial influence couldn't be appreciated better that in either the Defence Against the Dark Arts sessions or Quidditch. At least James rather thought so.
When they were in third year they'd learnt to repel boggarts. And while that was nothing new or truly exciting, a rather eye-opening episode took place that made sure James wished he never had to meet Mrs. Black.
They had been practicing with a real boggart, in an empty old classroom. A rather unique opportunity. I didn't look like Sirius appreciated it much
James remembers it, mostly because it was that memorable, not because he's the sort to remember every itsy-bitsy tiny little thing. He remembers Alice Dowell coming forward, the boggart turned into a hulking hideous troll. The Fabian Prewett, who apparently was afraid of vampires. Then Michelle Fenton was who was horrified at the sight of a big fat rat. Lily Evans came forward, and the boggart turned into a bee's swarm. When it was Remus' turn it turned into the fat pale face of the full moon, although luckily nobody noticed or seemed to gleam its meaning. To Mary MacDonald there was nothing more terrifying than a ghostly bangshee. Jocelyn Wright was sacred of rabid dogs. And it was then, when they were the only two left, Sirius and him. Sirius came forward, the boggard seemed for a moment suspended in time and sizzled in place noticeably struggling in mid-air against something entirely invisible.
"It is forbidden to use occlumancy in my class, Mr. Black" the voice of Professor Merrythought impatiently called out over the heads of her curious students. All eyes seemed for one terrible moment to be centered on Sirius, whose eyes were tightly shut. He peeled an eye open and looked at the now frizzy fluffy lapdog with bug-eyes. His face fell, shoulders slumping ever-so-slightly. You could almost hear the resigned sigh coming out of his lips.
Snap!
The rabid dog turned lapdog disappeared, giving place to a tall beautiful woman. She was dressed in dark and rich blue robes with a generous cleavage that fell smartly and embellished her lithe body and pale complexion. Her neck sported a series of ostentatious necklaces with shining diamonds, and her heavy earrings shone with the force of a thousand suns. She was very pale, rather like the dead. Her slender hands with long fingers were those of someone who hasn't worked to earn their keep in their life. Her hair was midnight black, verily like raven's wing. She was elegant and stern, her delicate facial features would have been beautiful if the contemptuous smile she was sporting hadn't done everything possible to change that. She bore her grey eyes upon a very pale Sirius, her finger raised to point at him ominously. He was so pale you could've taken him for a ghost. He froze.
Her mouth opened and an ear-splitting shriek poured forth. "You, shame of my flesh! You are not worthy of carrying the surname Black! You are the shame of your family!" the terrible yelling only augmented in volume in each passing second. "I'm ashamed of having to call you my son! Have you not listened at all?! Associating with mudblood-lovers and…"
They weren't allowed to hear her rant to completion because Sirius seemed to shake off his the grip of paralyzing terror and bounded forward shouting "riddikulus!" At once a very shocked Mrs. Black was holding her throat unable to produce a sound, she was also dressed in dirty rags and her hair was matted; her beauty prematurely aged.
After a few shocked moments of silence James burst out laughing. Which, okay, nobody ever accused James of being sensitive. A few sniggers from others than himself were heard.
"Sirius is afraid of Mummy!" James breathed while drying the tears from his eyes. Laughter, full-bellied laughter soon spread through the class, and Professor Merrythought did little to prevent it. "James." And James just couldn't stop laughing. "Oh, come on. I mean, your mother?" The look Sirius sent him could've pulverized diamonds.
"Shut up James, or for Merlin's Frizzy Beard, I swear I'll hex you to next week and back." James of course didn't stop. "I mean it!"
Then, the boggart exploded.
By lunch that very day, all school knew with varying shades of accuracy what had happened. Which of course seemed to give carte blanche to everyone and anyone to comment on it. "Charming lady your mother, mate!" People started stopping them in the corridors, people stopped by in the Great Hall.
Sirius was pretty much expeditious, of course. With Sirius you couldn't expect anything less. If anything, he knew how to take care of a reputation.
He charmed James' glasses to flash him outrageous nonsense at odd intervals, leaving him practically blind and forcing him to beg for forgiveness before the next Quidditch match. He put two fourth years in the Hospital Wing by the end of the week and curses flew whenever someone looked at him sideways. That pretty much convinced everyone that whatever the hell happened to Sirius' Blacks boggart wasn't their damn business. And that was that.
James though, never gave true importance to Sirius' occlumancy skills until much later.
James committed the imprudence of taking divination during his third, fourth and fifth years. Then Professor Baxton tried to teach them the complicate subtleties of simple legeremancy. Talking about reading someone's mind like you'd talk of reading a crystal ball was a bit stupid. He was firmly convinced legeremancy had nothing to do with Divination. He was never any good at divination, much less mind-reading; in fact he was quite lousy at it.
He had to practice on someone, so he asked, naturally, his best friend Sirius, who, lucky bastard didn't take Divination.
After many attempts James was very frustrated. For a long while the only thing he saw was a thick mist, not unlike when you gazed into the crystal ball. After a while he began to see something, and he felt relieved. His exhilaration passed as he realized it was a pink flowery teapot. When his attempts to move on to pastures new failed him for a good half-hour, he exclaimed.
"Sirius you cannot be thinking about my mother's teapot!"
"Why not, Prongsie?" he said with a smug expression about him.
"Aaaargh!" James gave up frustrated and went up to dear Ol' Moony, tearing a book out of his hands: "Remus, you don't know how to use occlumancy, don't you?"
The same reason that made Sirius good at cursing people, mostly aim (Pads could hit a guy in the eye at the end of one very long corridor from the opposite end), made him wonderful beater.
He was a brilliant and valuable player and was in the team since his fourth year. He was a problematic member though, because he was very temperamental. He became irreplaceable in short time, as he was a whirlwind who appeared to be at all places at once and he managed to imprint a bone breaking force to the bludgers.
Playing against Slytherin he showed a special viciousness. His hatred to his adversaries traduced into a very troubled game for the opponent team.
When Regulus Black joined the Slytherin Quidditch team Fabian Prewett, the new Keeper, asked jokingly if Sirius would be able to hit his brother with the bludger. Later on he proved to be more than able of doing so. Poor Reggie's first match ended, more than predictably to James, in the infirmary.
In fifth year he hit a very nasty Slytherin commentator with the bludger to. It was an allegedly accidental occurrence that got him a three months sanction from Professor MacGonagall. James, the newly appointed captain, was so furious with him that almost kills him.
When Sirius ran away from home it was the bloodiest match in Hogwarts History. The game they played against Slytherin was long and brutal. You could almost hear the crackling sound of tension in the air. Sirius' rage adopted the form of a shower of bludgers upon any member of the Slytherin team, and specially Regulus, with a truly malicious aiming.
It was irrelevant how many times James told and pleaded with Sirius to excersise restraint.
"Please try to avoid sending your brother to the infirmary in a matchbox, you big ponce!"
Gryffindor didn't usually play dirty, save for occasional mistakes. Chivalry and honour, and all that stuff. Slytherin did always play dirty. But Sirius proved he could play dirtier still.
James himself finished that mach out of sheer stubbornness, because they broke his leg. If he wasn't mistaken they were very close to breaking the totality of the seven hundred rules of Quidditch.
As it was a proved fact that Sirius hit the bludgers harder when he was angry, and significantly better aimed when he was pissed at his family. James found himself praying for a letter from home to arrive just before the matches against Slytherin on occasion.
He even tried to get Regulus Black to piss dear Sirius off. Not that he got what he wanted but it was worth a shot. Maybe not, because he would have had to stop him from spending all that pent-up anger in an impromptu duel with some Slytherin arsehole… which he would have invariably won, satisfying his need to bang someone's head open.
The woes of a Quidditch Captain. James had to endure what you wouldn't believe.
Anger and adaptation. Besides being capable of building himself into impressive rages, Sirius could also be incredibly slippery. The adaptability that made him an ace in transfiguration, how his wristjob took profit from the flexibility of that slender wrist and long nimble fingers could be observed in biggest proportions when he took to a field in which he was a natural.
They started duelling two years ago, after the O.W.L.s. Sirius had been defter in that field than anybody he had ever seen, since the first moment Professor Merrythought said "you may begin" for the first time. He was fast and had good aim and even better footwork.
He swirled and dodged without loosing his composure one second. Spinning on his heels and making sharp turns that kept him safely out of harm's way. Not a hair out of place while he cast shield charms, curses, counter-curses and thought of creative ways of unbalancing his opponent.
Sirius made duelling look rather like a deadly dance. It had a dangerous mesmerizing beauty to it that was sometimes hypnotic. Like the cobra rocking way and forth before it bolts and sinks her lethal fangs on her victim's neck.
Not that James himself was bad at Defence. But he knew that he wouldn't be able to beat his friend in a one-to-one real duel. He was fast, but so was Sirius. And while he tired easily after a while, Sirius was able to keep a frenetic pace for a long while, forcing his opponents to loose ground, falling more and more into defensive positions, until he cornered them and they were at his mercy.
And merciless he was. James had the distinct impression that Sirius liked to play with what James mentally called his victims. Sirius played the cat and the mouse for a long time. He often saw how he could've finished the duel in little time, taking advantage of an opening on his incautious rival's defences. He could finish a duel in short, attacking with lightning speed, before no-one noticed what had happened. More often though, he taunted and played with them. He allowed his companions to think that just maybe this once, they had a real chance. He feinted, falsely retreated… And then started pressing. Ruthlessly firing curse after curse, while the other slowly realized that they had no way out, and their features changed to something close to despair.
Because they were on the verge of a war, and they were all very conscious that had it been in a real duel, they wouldn't have survived.
James felt a bit scared of Sirius at times like this. When his friend's features set, eyes the only thing alive on a blank face that was a dead mask… he felt shivers run down his spine. They were features he knew very well, how the slight curling of his upper lip was the only show of physical exercise. The hair fell gracefully over his eyes, obscuring them from view and veiling their scorching intensity.
They were eyes of a mercurial nature. They looked like pools of quicksilver when pulling a prank or shinning with amusement. They were almost translucent in their silvery white when were filled with worry. Steely grey showed contempt, disdain, and cold, quiet anger. But when anger unleashed and all that struggling energy and barely concealed magical power went loose, his eyes were like stormy clouds.
Sirius had a volatile energy, constrained into some invisible and fairly fragile bonds; and with great effort barely kept in check. His personality contained something explosive, irrepressible, that could be released at any moment. And the violence of duel fighting unleashed that energy. The feral movements showed true mastery in this primitive gamble for survival.
James watched Sirius feint and dodge Jocelyn Wright's curse in the empty space in the middle of the room. Sirius hadn't made yet a true effort to take her out, limiting his movements to dodging and confusing her for a while. Her hair clips had falled, her blond hair was all messed up and she looked harried. Then Sirius' eyes took sight of him as he rolled his eyes, and he sprang into action.
In a series of quick steps and a succession of curses he sent her stumbling backwards, clearly unable to properly contain the sudden fury of Sirius' attack. He had the look upon him now. The one which told you there was no mercy left.
His hands are a blur. His wand swept rose and fell; changed from hand to hand, confusing his adversary with attacks from both sides. Because Sirius was ambidextrous. Correction: he was left-handed but for practical reasons he'd been forced to learn to both hands with equal precision.
Jocelyn had already stopped trying to attack, and was barely able to contain the onslaught. The stunning spell caught her on the chest and she fell backwards. Sirius had won this time too, but he didn't look satisfied.
The mask fell, and he was the Sirius they all knew and loved. As Professor Merrythought reanimated the poor girl, he squatted down to her level, and politely asked if she was right. She smiled, and James could tell she was not afraid anymore. He'd been forgiven.
James wondered if he was going to be seeing Sirius like that more frequently in the future. He didn't know what future was out there waiting for them. He didn't know how long was this war going to last. He didn't know how it would affect them. But he knew that neither of them would sit crossed legged waiting for Doom's Day. And he was very grateful that he and Sirius would never have to fight on different sides.
