Author's Notes:
I know that I said that there will be sections from Regulus' POV as well, and I just want to tell all of the Regulus' fans that there still will be! He's my absolute favorite character, and I have a ton already written from his POV (yet to be posted), but most of it is after he starts at school. So, fellow Regulus fans, please bear with me. I promise those sections are coming!
(I am tempted to just write one in early for the sake of throwing one in, but I am also really attached to how I bring his character's perspective into the story later on… so, thoughts/opinions?) Either way, there will be a lot from his POV; it's just coming a bit later on in the story. Thanks!
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(Sirius Black)
Sirius was in a terrible mood. He'd been in a terrible mood ever since breakfast – when his father's letter had arrived. He was getting used to his mother's daily letters, which outlined her explicit disappointment in him, in his sorting, and in virtually everything about him. His father's letters were less frequent. Thus, when Sirius opened it, he had dared to hope for a split second that it would be remotely positive – that perhaps he would have asked how school was going, and that perhaps he would have answered the questions that Sirius had so carefully written to him. That, Sirius quickly realized, was very foolish.
Orion was not any happier with him than he had been in his last two letters. Though his father didn't use the same hateful vocabulary that his mother so often chose to inflict, Orion's letter was not at all uplifting to Sirius' spirits. More than that was the fact that his father never disciplined as often as his mother, and so to read about his lack of pride was somehow a harder blow. Unlike his mother's letters, which were sent with the sole objective of venting her displeasure towards him, his father's letter had been sent with an actual purpose: a reply to Sirius' letter and a reminder to not embarrass the family any further by associating with mudbloods.
He'd immediately stood from the breakfast table. There was only one past time that would ease his anger and confusion. His father's answers had not made him feel any better, nor had they provided the insightful clarity he had so been hoping for from him.
"Where're you going?" James had asked, a huge grin on his face as he made his way through his weekly care package, a chocolate frog in one hand and a new t-shirt in the other. Sometimes Sirius couldn't stand to be around him. Stupid spoilt git.
"None of your bloody business, Potter" he'd snapped back. James had looked affronted, but upon spotting the letter scrunched in Sirius' fist, he'd let it go. By now, the third week of school, his dorm-mates had all learned to leave him alone when the post arrived.
Sirius had hurried off to the library. He found the corner section away from the windows that he'd grown accustomed to sitting in when he did his research on blood status. He wasn't about to let people find him reading up about it; he hadn't even told his roommates where he went the times he couldn't resist going to the library to seek the truth. The truth was all he wanted, but it turned out that for every book that said blood status didn't matter, he could think of at least five at home that said otherwise. It was beyond frustrating, and he knew there was no one he could talk to that would really understand.
He knew what everyone in his family thought on the issue, and it was pretty clear what the professors thought as well. So who was left to ask? Besides, he didn't want just another opinion, he wanted fact. He wanted proof. If he was going to hate more than half the wizarding population, and all the muggles, he felt that he should be pretty clear on why he should hate them. He couldn't muster that kind of hatred – the hatred his relatives exhibited – without solid reasons. None of their reasons had ever seemed good enough. They didn't look dirty and disgusting. They certainly weren't any less intelligent than anyone else. Maybe some of their ways seemed primitive, but they were also more advanced than the wizarding world in other ways. If not for their last names, he never would have known who was who just by meeting them. No; he wasn't going to write them all off for no real reason.
Yet, he wasn't about to just abandon everything he'd ever been taught, and his family's beliefs, just because he didn't quite understand them. Just because he didn't see what they saw didn't mean that they were all wrong. It couldn't mean that. He refused to accept it; his family would not hate people, especially to the extent that they did, for no reason.
Sirius had been pouring over books, trying to find the truth of whether or not blood purity mattered and to what extent if it did. But who was to say that the authors of these school books weren't just as biased – although of the opposite viewpoint – as the authors of the books in his home library? The first time he'd gone to the school library to find the answer the week before, he had thought it would be easy. He'd expected to pick up a book, read a paragraph that confirmed everything his parents said, and be closed on the matter. He'd expected to be able to tell James that he was wrong, and to know in his head that James had just been misguided by his blood-traitor parents.
But that wasn't what had happened. The book he'd picked up hadn't said anything like what his parents had told him. For the past week, he'd half-wished that he had just put that book down and never read it; but that wasn't what he'd done. He had read it – clung to it – every last word. He'd never heard of anyone talking about the "unjust prejudice against muggleborns" before, and he'd found it fascinating. That night, he'd gone to bed with even more uncertainty than he'd had upon entering the library. The next day, he'd returned to search through more and more books. Yet, the more he read on the subject, the more confused he became. His family couldn't be that wrong… not to that extent. Yet, James – for all his lectures - didn't seem so wrong either.
So, yesterday, he had worked up the courage to write a letter to his father to ask him all of the questions that had been building up in his head throughout his research.
If muggles don't know about our world, then how are they willingly oppressing us?
How are muggleborns stealing magic? If it was possible to steal magic, why don't squibs steal magic?
If half-bloods have one magical parent, then isn't it not their fault if their other parent stole magic?
The book says all blood is the same, so why do we think it's dirty? What makes it dirty?
Why are some of the muggleborns more talented than some of the purebloods in lessons?
The list had gone on and on. The reply letter he'd received at breakfast had not been particularly helpful. It was more of the same reasoning without any direct answers to his very specific questions. Moreover, his father was clearly furious that he'd even asked such things in the first place – causing him to express his renewed fury over his sorting into a house that allowed such "perverse thoughts."
What's wrong with me? Why can't I just understand? He groaned from the library chair he sat in. Why can't any of these stupid books just be unbiased? The warning bell chimed, and Sirius knew he had to leave in order to make it to class on time. With a heavy discontented sigh, he picked up the stack of books he'd acquired in the past half hour and returned them to their appropriate shelves.
(James Potter)
James sat down heavily in his seat for Charms. So unfair, he thought furiously. He'd asked Professor McGonagall if he could try out for the house Quidditch team and she'd said 'no'. He'd even explained his credentials to her… laid out how the team needed him and hadn't won the cup in three years… but she'd flat out denied him.
"Just because I'm a first year" James informed his three dorm-mates, who sat around him, for the sixth time. He didn't care that he was being repetitious. In his firm opinion, it was just as preposterous of a reason each time he said it.
"Maybe if you convince her to just watch you fly?" Peter suggested. James gave him a weak appreciative grin.
"Maybe" James groaned, sliding down in his chair so that his neck rested on the back of his chair. "It's just so stupid. … Maybe if I get my parents to write her a letter."
Sirius made a sound of clear disgust. He's been in a pissy mood all afternoon.
"I didn't ask for your opinion, so don't give it" James shot at him with a sideways glance. Both he and Sirius were currently being too stubborn to turn their heads to face one another, so instead they faced forward at Peter and Remus.
"I didn't" Sirius replied curtly.
"As good as" James argued. "You've been a prat all day." Sirius crossed his arms across his chest, choosing to ignore him.
This git.
"Just because you got some letter you didn't like-" James began hotly, but he stopped as Sirius turned on him so fast, looking absolutely livid.
"You ignorant spoilt git, Potter" he said in a low infuriated tone, glaring at him. "Why don't you just eat your sodding chocolate frogs and stop complaining about how the rules apply to you."
James was taken aback, but not for long. Sirius may have a fierce temper, but he wasn't scared of him.
"Oh yeah? Wasn't it just the other night when you said that I should make a donation to the school in order to get them to make an exception? I believe your exact words were 'rules don't apply to people like us'. Wasn't that what you said, you sodding hypocrite?"
Sirius didn't answer.
"That's what I thought" James said angrily. "So keep your mouth shut if I want to write a damn letter to my parents."
James looked over at Peter with a 'can you believe him' expression. Peter, who sat directly in front of him, looked like he agreed with James. It was then that the bell rang to signal the beginning of the Charms lesson.
I'm definitely sitting next to Peter next lesson.
"Today, we will be learning the Flippendo charm. This charm will knock objects over. Let me demonstrate." Professor Flitwick, who stood atop a stack of large books behind a wooden podium, aimed his wand his desk. "Flippendo." The small vase of flowers – which had clearly seen better days – tipped over instantly onto its side. Flitwick quickly righted the vase and cleared away the spilt water with another clean swish of his wand. "Now, let me get into how it is done. Firstly, - uh… yes, Mr. Black?"
James hadn't noticed that Sirius had raised his hand.
"Excuse me, Professor?" Sirius asked politely enough.
"Yes, Mr. Black. What is your question" Flitwick asked, happy to help a student despite the fact that he had interrupted.
"I already know how to do this. Is there something else you could teach today?" His tone was innocent enough, but James knew him well enough now to know that he was acting that way because he was in a mood. Professor Flitwick looked taken aback.
"I-I beg your pardon?"
"I've known how to do Flippendo for about three years now. Is there something else you could teach those of us who already know this one?"
Professor Flitwick stared at him in absolute shock for a moment before blinking a few times to recover himself.
"You are likely the only pupil who already knows this charm then, Mr. Black. I'm afraid you will have to bear with us."
But Sirius looked disbelieving. He looked around the room and addressed the class loudly.
"Who else already knows this one?"
James gaped, looking around the room. No one raised their hands.
"Mr. Black, that is quite enough. When you are in my classroom, you will conduct yourself in manner befitting of a respectful pupil."
"I'm not trying to be disrespectful." Sirius argued back, in a manner that was truthfully quite disrespectful. "But I value my time just as much as you value yours, and I'm telling you respectfully that I already know how to do this. I already sat through all your lessons on Wingardium Leviosa, which I've known how to do for ages, by the way. Why should I have to sit here while you teach everyone else when I could be –"
"Mr. Black" Flitwick snapped, "I do not want to have to take house points from Gryffindor. Now please sit quietly and stop disrupting the class."
"Well can I go then, Professor?" Sirius asked. Seated beside him, James was gaping open-mouthed. Sirius didn't seem to notice. In truth, he didn't even seem to realize that he was saying or doing anything wrong. "I've got a lot of homework, and since I already know this –"
"You are weighing on my patience now, Mr. Black" Flitwick warned in his high-pitched voice.
"Then you must understand how I feel trying to sit here day after day" Sirius said earnestly, though the slightly condescending entitlement was still present in his speech. "At home, I tell my tutors all the time when my time could be better spent learning something more productive. Isn't that the whole point? To learn as much as possible."
"You may not speak to me as if I am one of your tutors. I am not on your parent's payroll." Flitwick turned on his heel and returned to his podium and began lecturing once more, clearly choosing to ignore Sirius.
"Yeah, only technically you are" Sirius muttered angrily under his breath.
"Bloody hell, Sirius. Shut-up" James hissed, still in shock at his new friend's insolence and sense of entitlement.
"He is" Sirius whispered back, looking beyond contemptuous. "My parents donated half a million galleons to this school last year. I'm the heir, so technically that's my money too. I'm paying his salary. I shouldn't have to sit here and waste my time."
Oh Merlin… Is this seriously coming out of his mouth right now? James could not even comprehend the level of disrespect – not to mention the height of the horse Sirius clearly had himself on – that his friend was exhibiting to a professor. What was more, was that Sirius still didn't even seem to realize that he was in the wrong. The Professors don't work for you Sirius, no matter how much money your parents have donated.
(Remus Lupin)
"You're a sodding slob!" James hollered at Sirius later that day as Sirius re-entered their dormitory. Where he had been, they didn't know. Sirius often seemed to disappear, or to say he was just running to the loo, and then not show back up for hours. "I can't live looking at your mess every day."
Remus tried not to look weary, but they'd been going at each other all day, and he really wanted to finish his Herbology assignment that evening.
Sirius did not look much affronted by James' outburst. It wasn't the first time James had told him that he needed to clean up his area of the room. Remus half wondered if Sirius was electing not to straighten up on purpose, just to be stubborn. Sirius strolled into the room, slipped off his outer robe, and tossed it onto the steadily building pile of dirty clothes on the side of his bed.
"Anything to say?" James demanded. Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking amused in a rather condescending sort of way.
"I don't clean" Sirius said flatly. "If it bothers you so much, feel free to do it yourself."
"I'm not going to trail around after you, hanging up your clothes every time you take something off. You're a lazy arrogant spoiled sod."
Sirius gave a laugh.
"I'm not the spoilt one."
"Are you suggesting that I am?" James exclaimed, rising to his feet.
"If the care package fits…"
"Clean up your side of the room" James demanded, ignoring Sirius' latest retort.
"No" Sirius said stubbornly, daring to smirk condescendingly back at James. "I don't take orders from you."
"I'm through coming back to that mess every day" James shouted. James narrowed his eyes and took a couple steps nearer to Sirius. "It amazes me how you so easily correlate muggleborns to being unclean when you live like this!"
Ah, so that's what this is about. It had been rather bad. Sirius had made a very inappropriate prejudiced remark the day before, seemingly without realizing how it sounded. James had quite literally thrown a fit, and then he'd forced Sirius to endure a twenty minute lecture on how such remarks were inexcusable. Sirius had consented to hearing James out as long as no one else was around to witness his chastisement, and when Remus and Peter had been allowed back into the room, both boys were quiet and very sulky. Sirius had openly ignored all of them for the rest of the evening while he wrote out the first letter they'd seen him writing all year.
"Don't tell me you're on about that again now?!" Sirius groaned.
"You're impossible!" James spluttered in astonishment. "You still don't even realize how disgusting that was for you to say!"
"Oh I understand perfectly! You prattled on about it forever!"
"So you understand but you don't care?!"
"I never said-"
"Or is that you're just like those awful cousins you pretend you don't know?"
"Don't insult my family!"
"Your family is vile!" James hollered "They're a bunch of bigoted, self-proclaimed -."
"You don't know anything about my family!" Sirius shouted, and unsummoned sparks flew from the tip of his wand.
"I know that they're prejudiced and that everybody hates them!" James shouted. "And that they must live in filth because they 'don't clean'" he added as an afterthought.
"Everyone's just jealous of my family because we're-!"
"Ha! You are just as delusional as they are! Nobody is jealous of your family!" James interrupted.
"What would you know about it!?" Sirius screamed. "Your family are blood-traitors! You're a disgrace to the wizarding world!"
James whipped his wand out very fast.
"Punctum Alica!" James shouted, but Sirius blocked the stinging hex with a quick wave of his wand.
"Don't start a duel you can't win, Potter" Sirius warned darkly.
"You take back what you said about my family" James glowered at him.
"You take back what you said about mine."
"Never" James said confidently.
"Fine. Then your family are blood-traitors, and so are you."
"Your family is evil! They're vile and prejudiced, and too obsessed with themselves to realize that everybody else is laughing at how stupid they are, and that everybody else hates them!"
"Shut-up!" Sirius shouted, and Remus noticed that his hands were shaking. He looked over at Peter, who was watching the scene open-mouthed, cross-legged on his bed.
"You say you're nothing like them but then you go and call muggleborns filthy and you call me a blood-traitor! You're just like them!"
"Stop." Sirius was no longer shouting. Remus could see that he was getting an entirely different kind of upset, but James apparently could not detect it.
"There's a reason everybody here hates your family, Black! And I promise you, you arrogant ignorant git, that jealously has nothing to do with it!"
"I – hate – you!" Sirius screamed in anguish.
"That's what you Blacks are best at!"
"Like you would know, you fucking blood-traitor" Sirius shot back, but his voice was shaking.
"Gryffindors don't use that term, Black" James said angrily. "Nor do they call muggleborns 'mudbloods', or compare humans to dirt."
"Are you saying I'm not a Gryffindor?" Sirius asked angrily. James shrugged condescendingly at him. "Fine. I don't want to be a Gryffindor anyway."
"Why don't you leave then? Go back to wherever you just were. Probably hanging out with your awful family. That's why you're so secretive, isn't it?"
Sirius hesitated for a brief moment, staring at James in what looked like disappointment, and then he walked straight out of the dormitory, slamming the door loudly behind him.
Remus and Peter exchanged a nervous look before turning back to stare at James. He was fuming. They'd never seen him get so angry before. He and Sirius usually got along well; they bickered and their alpha personalities clashed sometimes, but for the most part they got along very well. But James never had any patience for him when Sirius mistakenly made prejudiced remarks. Remus often wondered how much Sirius was aware of what he said actually meant. Sirius did seem to think and act like he was better than other people, but how much of that was just arrogance? He didn't treat muggleborns any differently than purebloods. He treated everyone with the same level of entitled importance and authority. He tended to be confused when James would get suddenly furious after a comment. He never acted particularly understanding and apologetic, but he never argued for prejudice either.
Regardless, Remus thought that James may have crossed the line that time. True, Sirius' part of the room was a disaster area, and he had made a rather awful comment the day before, but it was still a lot of mean things to say to a friend. Sirius had, after all, consented to letting James lecture him the day before.
"Can you believe him?" James asked in exasperation. Peter and Remus exchanged glances again, both wanting to stay out of it.
"I think you both said some …stuff" Peter said bravely. James looked shocked, and then hurt. His hand rushed up to his already haywire hair, and he nervously messed it up even more. James gave a sigh, looking upset.
"I guess. I don't want to talk about it." James retreated to his bed, pulled his potions homework out of his bag, and began to do it without another word. Remus could sense the awkward tension in the room. He and Peter decided it was best to quietly do homework then as well.
(James Potter)
James couldn't sleep. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt too guilty to sleep. I shouldn't have said those things to him. I know he's not like them. He really is just too ignorant to realize what he says is so awful.
.
"But, James, how am I supposed to know? How do I know what is bad to say and what isn't? I don't mean anything by it really. I'm just talking…I'm just talking normal and then I find out that what I said was bad. …It was just an expression."
"It was a prejudiced slur that no one uses. It's not an expression" James replied hotly.
"How was I supposed to know that?" Sirius had asked him desperately. "Everyone I know talks like that. I didn't know you'd take offense."
"How about the muggleborns? Did you think they'd take offense?"
Sirius looked guilty.
"…I…I didn't really think about it. …James, I don't hate muggleborns. It was just an expre- I mean phrase. I just said it without thinking. I didn't mean anything by it."
.
James took a look at his watch; it was well past two in the morning. Despite the fact that it was a Friday and so they would not have to be waking up early the next morning, it was still way past curfew. Sirius should have been back by then. It was making James feel worried. What if Sirius had gone and done something reckless; he was the type to do so. James heaved a heavy sigh and decided that he might as well go and search for him. I'm not going to get any sleep otherwise.
He pulled the cloak out of his trunk as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the other two. He didn't bother changing out of his pajamas, though he did slip on his shoes and grab his wand. Then he headed down to the common room. The room was empty, but the fire was still crackling soothingly. James wrapped the cloak around himself and headed out of the common room.
If I were Sirius, where would I go? Truth be told, he had no real idea where the other boy would go. How well did he know him really after only three weeks? James searched for nearly an hour. He looked in every door he could find, but he didn't come across anyone. Sleepiness was finally catching up to him. He stared out at the long corridor before him. There was only one door left that he hadn't tried in it. One more door. Then I'm calling it a night. For all I know, he could be back in our dorm.
James walked towards the last door; he was half-asleep. It was unlocked, and he went in. At first glance, the room appeared to be empty. But then he saw it: a massive golden mirror with a pointed top. The mirror was at the far side of the room. Mesmerized, James approached it, not taking his eyes from the inscription at the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. (I show not your face, but your heart's desire). He couldn't read what it said.
As he drew mere feet from the mirror, he noticed the small figure of a boy with longish black hair at the base of the mirror. It was unmistakably a sleeping Sirius. He was curled up, facing the mirror, one hand still extended, touching it, as if he had fallen asleep trying to keep his hand on it. James' chest gave a pang of guilt and remorse. He's sleeping on the floor.
James looked up into the mirror at his own reflection. James Potter, you were a real prat this time. He took a step closer to Sirius and the mirror; he couldn't leave him there asleep on the floor. Then he saw it, and the shock of it hit him quite suddenly. The reflection in the mirror had changed. It was, he could tell, still him…only he was older. He was perhaps seventeen, and he was wearing Quidditch robes of his favorite team, the Montrose Magpies. He was smiling triumphantly, clutching a broomstick in one hand and a trophy in the other. James stared at it in awe. The trophy read the Quidditch World Cup.
What in the world kind of mirror is this? Does it show the future? He looked back up at the inscription, trying to make sense of it. He couldn't even venture a guess as to what language it could be. James stared at his older self once more; the James in the mirror was beaming back at him, still smiling broadly. James took a step closer. He had to figure this mirror out. He took a few more steps towards the other James. He could almost reach out and touch him now. One more step…
A muffled groan came from his feet. James looked down to see that he had walked right into Sirius' back. He had completely forgotten that he was even there. Sirius sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asle-" he caught sight of James, and abruptly ended his apology, which had clearly been intended for a professor. "What are you doing here?"
"What is this mirror?" James asked.
"Why are you here?" Sirius asked again stubbornly. He was scowling at James, but James was too preoccupied by the mystique of the mirror to notice.
"I was looking for you obviously. Now what in the world d'you reckon this mirror does? Do you think it shows the future?"
"The future?" Sirius asked in complete confusion. "No. Why would you think-? …Oh."
"What d'you mean 'oh'? It's got to be showing the future, hasn't it? I mean it showed me exactly what I'm planning for myself. My future looks great." James smiled happily.
"It doesn't show the future" Sirius repeated, sounding sullen. James took another step towards the mirror. He reached out and touched the reflection of his older self. It feels like a regular mirror. He leaned in to examine it closer until his nose was almost touching the mirror.
"Then what does it do then? What did you see?"
"I…I saw…" Sirius began as he turned to look back at the mirror. He shook his head slowly. "It doesn't matter what I saw. It isn't real and it isn't the future. And it's none of your business, Potter."
"How do you know it wasn't the future? Just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean that it isn't real."
"I was younger than I am now, okay. Is that clear enough for you? Unless I'm going to drink a permanent de-aging potion, it doesn't show the future" Sirius snapped back.
"What? …That can't be right. It has to be showing the future" James protested. He really wanted to solidify that that handsome, Quidditch-cup winning teenager was going to be him in the future.
"It's not. Mine would never happen. Not in a million years."
"You could de-age I suppose…" James mused, grasping at straws.
"Shut-up, will you?" Sirius said annoyed. James broke his transfixed stare at the mirror and turned to look at Sirius, who had just stood up.
"What did you see?" James asked curiously. Sirius' eyes flicked over to the mirror as if subconsciously, and for a minute he too stood utterly transfixed by what he saw. James waited patiently.
"It's not the future" Sirius repeated softly. "I'm going back to bed, and I don't fancy another detention so d'you mind if I share the cloak with you or am I too much of a hated bigoted Slytherin?"
Ugh…I'm sorry I said those things. I know you're not… You're just ignorant is all. Sirius was glaring at him; it was clear that he expected to hear an insult.
"I'm sorry" James admitted, and Sirius' expression changed to surprise. "I didn't mean what I said."
"You did" Sirius said quickly.
You aren't making this any easier.
"I do think you say stupid prejudiced arrogant things, but I do believe you that you don't realize what you're saying is so bad because your family says them. And I do think you belong in Gryffindor."
Sirius stared at him rather warily for a moment and then said
"I'm not like my family. I'm not. You don't even know them, and I'm telling you that I'm not. …Regulus maybe…a little…but that's all." He was staring defiantly at James, as if daring him to contradict him.
James had an odd feeling in his stomach. It was unusual, but he recognized it. It was the same feeling he'd gotten the first time he'd ridden a real broomstick and not a child's one. It was the feeling he'd gotten when he'd received his Hogwarts letter. It was the feeling that he was at a turning point and that somehow his life was about to be changed. Somehow, things would never be the same.
James looked at the boy in front of him. He was taller than James was by at least three inches, and he was practically glaring at James. But James could see it behind his hard-set expression…in his eyes he was desperate. James had hit it off with Sirius almost as soon as they'd met. He'd never met anyone quite like him before. He was beyond entitled, exceedingly judgmental of others, utterly naïve to life outside of aristocratic pureblood society, overly dramatic about even the smallest of inconveniences… and yet he was thoughtful enough to watch his tone around Remus, reckless enough to speak his mind to the professors, and unbelievably funny and charismatic. And here he was staring at James with a look on his face that screamed 'please accept me' behind his 'I-don't-care-what-anyone-thinks-of-me' facade, and James just couldn't dream of doing anything otherwise.
"You're not like them" James assured him. "I know that. I didn't mean it when I said it." Sirius folded his arms across his chest and bit his lip nervously. He gave James a small nod. "I'm sorry" James said again. "I know you said last night that it's hard for you to know." Sirius nodded again.
"I'm sorry" Sirius mumbled.
"So are we…er…good then?" James asked him cautiously. Sirius looked up from where he was staring at the floor and gave another small nod. "Alright, well let's go back then. But remember where this room is so we can come back." They covered themselves with the cloak and walked silently back to the common room. Luckily, there were no obstacles in the form of professors or caretakers in their path. Wish there was a way to know where the caretaker and every professor was… that way we'd never get caught.
When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, James wasn't surprised to see that she was sleeping. Their night escapades usually ended with them waking her up at all sorts of hours.
"Canis Major" James muttered. He hoped to speak just loud enough to wake her without waking any of the other portraits. "Canis Major" he said again. Beside him, Sirius stood silent, his arms folded. Much longer and he'll lose patience and start yelling. "Canis Major."
To James' relief, the Fat Lady opened her eyes with a flutter.
"Hello boys. It must be you, yes?"
"It's us" James whispered cheerily. "Will you let us in to bed, please? Canis Major." She swung open and James and Sirius went inside. Sirius immediately stepped out from under the cloak and away from James. James pulled the cloak off and noticed his friend's sullenness. "Are you alright?" Sirius gave a nod and looked towards the fire. James gave a sigh. Despite knowing him for only a short time, he knew Sirius well enough to know that he was upset. "D'you…er...want to talk or something?"
Sirius looked back at him, his face stoic.
"I'm fine" he said firmly. "I just…I don't like that mirror. I thought I did, but I don't. I don't want to go back there."
What? How could you not love that mirror? Don't you want to figure out what it does?
"Aren't you curious about it though?" James asked him imploringly. Sirius hesitated.
"I am…but I don't want to see it again."
"What did you see in it? What did it show you?"
"What did it show you?" Sirius was quick to turn the question around, but James was eager to share the image he'd seen.
"It was me. Only I was older. And I was wearing a professional Magpie's uniform and holding the Quidditch World Cup." Sirius chuckled.
"Wish I could have seen you like that."
"Maybe you will. If it's the future then-"
"It's not the future, James. I already told you. Mine was the past. Only it wasn't… I mean I was younger so it was the past, but it wasn't real. It wasn't what really happened. It wasn't really me."
"What d'you mean? Explain better. What did you see?"
"It was me" Sirius said shrugging. "And Regulus and my parents…only it wasn't really any of us. We were…different."
"Different how?"
"Just different, okay?" Sirius snapped.
"But I don't understand" he protested. Sirius rolled his eyes.
"We were different. Smiling. Happy. I don't know, it just wasn't really us. I mean, it could be us I suppose if my family was... different, but it's not. So, it wasn't really us. And it's never going to be us."
James hesitated, feeling guilty and not knowing what to say. Sirius hated talking about his family. When he did speak of them, he was usually criticizing his cousins, or saying how much he couldn't stand his mother. Sometimes he'd talk about his little brother, and then his words were kinder – usually when he was telling a story – "Reg and I…". Yet, no matter what, he would jump to their defense, as he had done that night, in a flash. Now he was pretty much admitting that his family wasn't happy. James didn't know what to make of it.
"So…" James said cautiously, "what do you think it does then?" Sirius gave a sigh and let himself fall backward over the armrest of the couch so that he was laying with his legs curled over the arm.
"I don't know" he said, sounding upset still. James went and sprawled out on the floor in front of the fire. Odd how this is almost always alight…
"What language do you think that was up at the top of it?" James pressed.
"No clue."
The two boys stayed up for nearly another hour discussing the potential actions of the mysterious mirror. Sirius had been reluctant at first, but James had managed to get him intrigued enough to shoot off ideas with him. They supposed, by the time they decided to call it a night, that the mirror had some way of showing them things that they wanted or wished for.
Over the next few days, James wanted to see it again to test the theory. He went back several times, and every time saw the same reflection of his older Quidditch-cup-winning self. Remus and Peter accompanied him for a couple of the night escapades to the mirror. They too, saw things that they wanted, though Remus' didn't make much sense to James. Remus saw himself standing outside in the moonlight under a full moon, just smiling and happy. It was odd, James thought, but Remus had simply mumbled something about liking full-moons. Peter flushed bright red when he told them that he saw himself taller and muscular, and well-liked.
Sirius stubbornly refused to return to the mirror on all but one of their trips. As it was, he stared transfixed at the mirror for a good five minutes and then abruptly left to go back to the dormitory without even waiting so that he could travel back under the cloak. They thought it was odd, but they didn't pester him about it. None of them seemed to be as enthralled by the mirror as James was; yet, after several trips James decided he'd rather explore other areas of the castle than keep returning to "vainly stare at his own reflection" – as Sirius had so mockingly put it. Coming from the boy who takes a half hour to get ready each morning! James had thought back. He hadn't said it back aloud though, knowing Sirius well enough to notice when he was only putting up a taunting front to hide the way he was really feeling.
(Peter Pettigrew)
Peter was alone in the dormitory with Remus; he was struggling to complete the transfiguration essay that professor McGonagall had assigned them. It was a challenging assignment, and it was taking him quite a while.
"Remus?" Peter asked his new friend. Remus had come a little more out of his shell in the past week as they had spent time exploring the castle and visiting the large golden-framed mirror. For one thing, he spoke at an audible tone around them now. He also seemed more comfortable speaking around them, no longer waiting to be specifically addressed in order to give his thoughts. What they'd learned was that Remus was very intelligent and well-read. He might not have had the same natural abilities that James and Sirius had in lessons, but he could give them a run for their money anyway with the amount of studying he did.
"Yes, Peter?" Remus asked, putting a finger on the page where he left off as he looked up from his own bed.
"Do you understand the Transfiguration assignment?" Peter asked, not wanting to come across as stupid or needy. To his immense relief, Remus didn't look at all condescending.
"Yes. It was a tricky one though. Would you like some help so you'll finish faster?" He asked tactfully. Peter gave him a guilty smile.
"If you wouldn't mind."
"I don't mind at all" Remus said cheerfully, getting up from the bed to join Peter on his. The next hour or so was spent with Remus patiently explaining the theory behind the spells to him. It made a world of difference to his essay.
I definitely had this wrong.
Peter was just finishing up the conclusion when the dormitory door burst open and James and Sirius came bounding in, talking so loudly that they were yelling.
"I just wish I had a time-turner so I could see his face again and again" James shouted, laughing. Sirius made a ridiculous expression that was clearly meant to be the impression of whomever they were referring to. James burst into a new fit of laughter, doubling over.
"Who's face?" Peter asked, eager to join in on the fun.
"Filch" Sirius said through a smirk. "We… we…" but he couldn't get the words about. Apparently the mere memory of what they had just done was enough to send him into hysterical laughter as well.
Remus was looking apprehensive as he got up and crossed back over to his own bed. He'd told Peter before how he liked the idea of pranks well enough, but that he didn't like it when anyone was too put out by them.
"He got what he deserved for making us polish all those trophies by hand" James laughed.
"We made his cat talk" Sirius managed through his laugher.
"How?!" Peter asked, a huge grin spreading across his face.
"Carina" James laughed. "We charmed the cat so her voice would come out of its mouth."
"He fell for it. He's probably still talking to her now." Sirius adopted the grisly voice of the caretaker. "Say it again, my sweet. Talk."
"What did Carina have the cat say?" Remus asked, though he sounded more like he was concerned with damage control than the hilarity of the prank.
"Loads of stuff" James replied, flopping down onto his bed. "That she was really a sorceress, and that she'd turn him into a cat for the rest of his life if he wasn't nicer to the students… that she was secretly in love with him… that Gryffindors were the best and he shouldn't ever give them detentions again."
All four of them were laughing now, even Remus.
"Carina was brilliant" Sirius added, swinging from one arm from one of his bottom bedposts. "She had James crying, he was laughing so hard."
"An' ole Filch clung to every word. Didn't even think for a moment that it was off that his cat just started talking to him."
"I knew you'd open up to me some day, my sweet" Sirius imitated Filch's words again, making all four of them laugh even harder.
(Remus Lupin)
The first few weeks of school passed in one surreal blur. Remus could hardly believe his almost immediate acceptance as a friend to his three dorm-mates.
James Potter and Sirius Black, although both overly confident and self-righteous, were quickly becoming the most fun and entertaining people he had ever met. Their constant witty and comical remarks and jibes at one another, along with their inherent disregard for rules and authority, had allowed them to gain an almost immediate reputation among the professors. Yet, despite their incessant need to talk back to the prefects and professors, and the frequent harmless pranks that they pulled in their classes, the professors still seemed to enjoy them. It was clear from the start that both James and Sirius were some of the brightest and talented students in their year.
The two boys, although easily poking fun at others they barely knew, were quite kind to him. Remus seemed to be exempt from the worst of their jokes and pranks on account of the fact that he shared a room with them. Peter on the other hand, despite the fact that he too shared their dormitory, tended to be the source of Sirius' jokes a little too frequently for Remus' comfort. Peter was permitted to sit with them, and they stopped others from mocking him – which often occurred on account of Peter's rather slower than average thought-processing skills -, yet Peter was often the subject of Sirius' jibes back in the dormitory.
Their respect for Remus however - and Remus did not quite understand how he'd earned the respect of the two boys that the rest of the school rather admired yet feared to cross - was quite evident. The first time they had consulted Remus for his opinion, Remus was so shocked that he could only stammer out his response. But they seemed to take his shyness as endearing, and they appeared – much to Remus' delight and surprise – to be rather fond of him. Remus was so blissfully happy to meet and get to know other boys his own age for the first time. James, Sirius, and Peter were all very kind to him - a luxury he had never dared to hope for before attending school. Over the last few weeks, he had grown to know each of their personalities in turn.
James was rather self-righteous. Despite often pranking others himself, he more than often took it upon himself to attempt to defend others from real - or imagined - injustices. James often spoke of Gryffindor as if it had been his life's ambition to prove his loyalty and courage so that he was worthy of such an honorable house. Furthermore - as Remus would have noticed without Sirius' somewhat frequent assertions – James was rather spoilt by his affectionate mother and father. They sent him weekly care packages of sweets and homemade baked goods. In addition, they had also conceded to him insisting on getting a new faster broomstick, so that he could practice on it by the time he was home for break. Nevertheless, James was very kind; his pranks never harmed anyone, and his jokes were made only in good fun. He cared very much for his fellow Gryffindors, and he treated each of them as warmly as if he'd known them for his entire life. He was loyal to his house and to his friends, and he seemed to feel responsible for protecting anyone who could not protect themselves. He was prone to mischief in the spirit of seeking adventure, however. Yet, James' recklessness seemed to have met his match in Sirius Black.
Sirius was similar to James in many ways. Unlike James, although equally as bright, he did not spend much time at all on his studies. Instead, he explored the castle, planned elaborate pranks, served almost daily detentions, and generally went around the dormitory being as unconducive to everyone else's' studying as he could possibly be. Yet, despite the wild and friendly side he showed his friends, he walked about the castle with an air of entitlement that even James – as un-humble as he was - did not possess. Other students most definitely feared to get on his bad side, for although he was not mean, he had an unusually quick and formidable temper, and more than a few of his pranks were not quite as harmless as James'.
Nevertheless, Sirius seemed to reserve a very different attitude for his interactions with Remus: during which conversations he seemed to be consciously aware of the fact that to speak anything but mildly might unnerve his shy friend. And then of course there was the side of him that only presented itself when he was forced to interact with the Slytherins that he had grown up with. It was at those times when he sounded and acted as if he truly did believe that he was better than everyone because of his family's fortune and pureblood lineage. "You have to hit 'em where they think it matters." Sirius had tried explaining "It's the only thing that'll shut them up."
Then there was little Peter. In Remus' opinion, Peter was by far the kindest and most considerate of the three. He was noticeably insecure about himself, which was perhaps another reason why Remus felt more comfortable around him than he did the other two. Peter didn't go about yelling and jumping around making a spectacle of himself, nor did he go out of his way to prank others. He was often the first one to catch on when Remus had been wondering if he was welcome around them during the earliest weeks of school; he could be counted on to offer a friendly smile and a thoughtful "let's sit together in class again, Remus", which Remus was beyond grateful for. Peter already seemed to idolize James and Sirius - especially James, who seemed to have a considerable amount more patience for him than Sirius did. He followed them around with fierce admiration. Remus enjoyed Peter's company, for he was sweet and friendly, and not at all intimidating like the others.
The four of them were taking supper in the Great Hall when the now very familiar large black owl arrived beside Sirius' plate. There was a thick envelope in its talons. Sirius snatched it up off of the table as the bird took flight. He looked positively livid as he opened his daily letter and scanned through it. As he read, he seemed to grow paler, and he sunk lower into his seat.
"You alright, mate?" James asked.
"Incendio," Sirius muttered, setting the letter ablaze in front of them. "So glad I learned that one. Quite." They had seen Sirius destroy nearly all of his letters in various ways over the past weeks, so they knew already that he was not going to say more on the subject. They resumed their dinner, but Remus thought he could hear a very small pained sound from the boy to his left.
(Remus Lupin)
Remus was jolted awake to the sound of a loud familiar chorus. He opened his eyes to see that his bed curtains had already been pulled back. Three boys stood at the foot of his bed belting out the Happy Birthday song. Remus was shocked, but he was instantly smiling. I didn't tell them that today is my birthday. He wondered how they had found out.
"….To You!" they finished, not all quite at the same time.
"Th-thank you" Remus said in surprise. He'd never had friends to share a birthday with before. "How did you know?"
"After this one" James nudged Sirius "didn't tell us when it was his birthday, I made a point to find out when the rest of yours' were." James was grinning triumphantly.
"That was really nice of you" Remus replied.
"Tosh!" James said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Now get up and open your presents." Plural? Remus sat forward and saw that there were in fact four presents sitting on top of his trunk. The neatly wrapped one was easily recognizable as being from his mother and father. The other three, which were all wrapped in the same golden gift wrap, were clearly from his friends. They got me gifts. He was so happy, so surprised, and he felt so fortunate to have such kind friends.
Remus sat up and James scooped up the four presents and placed them on Remus' bed. Then he sat down on the foot of Remus' bed. Peter knelt on the now cleared trunk, watching Remus expectantly. Sirius leaned against the bottom left bedpost, his arms folded, with a satisfied grin on his face. Remus looked down at the gifts, not knowing which to open first. Yet, since he didn't know which gold present was from who, he didn't have to worry about offending anyone.
"Here" James said impatiently. "Open the big flat one." Remus reached for it and was surprised at how heavy it was; it had to be ten pounds at least. He ripped off the gold wrappings as a wide smile crossed his face. It was a chess board, a beautiful thick marble chess board.
"Do you like it?" James asked eagerly.
"I love it" Remus said breathlessly and running his palm over the smooth cold surface.
"It was my idea" Sirius put in.
"It's beautiful, thank you. It was a brilliant idea."
It was much nicer than the one his parents had at home, and Remus tried not to think about how much gold his friends must have spent on it. The second gift was revealed to be the white and the black chess men, and the third gift was a large box of assorted candy.
"This is incredible. Thank you all. It's too much, really..." Remus said, the likely cost of his gift beginning to sink in.
"Don't be daft" Sirius replied flatly. "Once James and I decided on a chess set, we weren't about to get you a bad one. We have to play on it too, after all." He gave a wink.
"Yeah, figured we'd lose to you in style" James added with a chuckle.
"The candy is from me" Peter added quietly. "I know it's not as exciting as a new chess board and set…"
"It's perfectly exciting, Peter" Remus assured him truthfully. "I can't wait to eat it." This made Peter smile broadly.
As his friends busied themselves getting ready for the day's lessons, Remus was left to open the gift from his parents without them watching. He was thankful that he was no longer the center of attention. He opened the card first; it was written in his mother's hand.
.
Dearest Remus,
Happy eleventh Birthday to the most wonderful son any parents could ask for! Your father and I are so proud of you and all that you have accomplished! We've been missing you so much these past few weeks since you left for school. I can hardly wait until the Christmas holiday so that I can wrap my arms around you again. (No getting any taller while I am not there! No growing up without me!) Oh, Remus, we love you so much. You deserve to have the greatest birthday in the world, darling. We hope you enjoy your birthday gift! Happy Birthday!
Love Always,
Mum and Dad
.
Remus felt so much joy from his mother's words, but they also made him miss her very much. It was hard living with his secret each day, fearing that he'd be found out, and having no one to confide in nearby. He appreciated her including his father in her words, though he knew what she said about him being proud of him wasn't true. Lyall was ashamed to have a werewolf for a son; it wasn't something he had managed to keep a secret from Remus and his mother. He wasn't a bad person. He tried to remain a good husband and a good father. He had stood by them and supported them, and he had never been cruel to either of them. Remus knew his father loved him – or, at least he loved him as the human son that he was before he was bitten at the age of four. To Lyall, his real son died that day along with all of Remus's chances at a normal, healthy, happy, successful life.
Still, he smiled, folding the letter and putting it in the drawer of his night table. He turned to his gift, already having a pretty good idea as to what it was. His guess was confirmed when he unwrapped two novels by his favorite author. Promising himself that he'd find time to read them despite his intense homework load, Remus set them on the night table and began to get ready for the day.
(Sirius Black)
Sirius gave a laugh at something James had just said about that strange sallow-looking Snape kid in Slytherin – the one they'd pranked earlier that year.
"I think that's a perfect name for him, James" Sirius agreed. "Snivellus the slimy."
Beside him, Remus staring down at his plate, evidently not approving of them making fun of anyone. Nevertheless, beside James, Peter was choking on his food through his laughter, as he showed his high approval of the nickname.
"What's so hilarious?" Anne asked from somewhere behind him. Sirius turned his head back a little to see that the first year girls - Anne, Carina, Lily, Rene and Violet - had just arrived at the table. The girls joined the table. Lily, Rene, and Violet were a little father down from them than Anne and Carina, and they were having their own conversation.
So that's how they've divided themselves then.
Carina sat beside him on his left – Remus was on his right – and Anne sat beside her.
"Nothing" James said, suddenly conscious of the fact that not everyone would approve of him being mean to Snape, especially since Lily was so close with him.
The mail arrived mid-way through their meal. Sirius could feel his stomach sinking lower as his mother's owl flew down to him. He took the letter, intent on keeping his face inexpressive. Around him, his new friends were reading their mail as well.
James… he thought with a jealous huff. James and his foot-long letter about how wonderful he is. As if he could have forgotten…
He broke the wax seal, which was embedded with his family's crest and motto – Toujours Pur – and began to read his mother's elegant script. Her handwriting had always been lavish and neat, as if the amount of flourish she put into her writing directly correlated to her level of high class. Her writing was practically microscopic, so that even though the letter was only six inches long, she'd managed to fit the amount of words that would one would normally use to fill a foot. Over the month he'd noticed that her penmanship seemed to get even smaller when she was growing from angry to furious to livid. Today, he judged the size to be somewhere between angry and furious.
I hope you're happy with yourself. What a way for a letter to begin. She didn't bother to address him formally with a greeting in her letters now that he'd been sorted into Gryffindor. He could practically hear her sarcastic hateful screeching voice screaming inside his head as he read on.
.
I hope you're happy with yourself. Your revolting, pathetic, disgraceful behavior disgusts me! When I get you inside this house again, you will regret the day you ever had the unfathomably selfish audacity and carelessness to be sorted into that filthy traitorous house! How such a vile shameful stupid creature ever came from my flesh and blood remains a mystery to me. Have you no ambition?! Have you no pride?! No honor?!
Your brother is beside himself at your lack of consideration for this family. Your father could not be more ashamed to have you for an heir. You are a worthless, pitiful, horrible child! You are a waste of the noble Black blood. Your poor grandparents are still in shock that such a thing could have happened.
"Where did I go wrong?!" they asked me. Where did I go wrong, as if it was I who had permitted you to be such an abhorrent little abomination. I suppose, because I bore you, that somehow makes me responsible for your traitorous nature? I think not. When I get my hands on you, you will rue the day you were born. I could not be more mortified to call such an atrocity of nature my own child.
Your father and I remain outraged and repulsed by your incessant consistency to disappoint. I am sick and tired of your scandalous behavior. I wish that I never had to look upon you again.
You have disgraced this entire family, and all of your noble ancestors. You are a detestable, worthless excuse for an heir. I hope you're happy with yourself.
Your exceptionally displeased Mother
.
Just like all her other letters, it was filled with her rage and disappointment over what a shameful traitor he was for his sorting. None of them care that it was the hat who sorted me, not me.
In some ways, they maybe thought that that was worse. He hadn't just been impudent and rebellious and chosen Gryffindor; instead there was something fundamentally wrong with him – he truly wasn't a Slytherin, and the hat knew it.
Sirius looked up from the letter, folding it quickly so that no one else would see it. James was still reading his own letter, smiling broadly, and occasionally letting out a laugh. Jealousy poured through every ounce of him. He didn't want to feel that way towards James; James was his friend. Yet, he couldn't help it. It wasn't fair that James' parents – that seemingly everyone else's parents had been thrilled to have their son or daughter in Gryffindor, but not his. No. Not my parents. My parents think it's the worst thing that I could have ever done…and it wasn't even something I did on purpose.
Struggling to control his temper, he set the letter down beside him. He wasn't going to replay her words in his head today until he had them memorized; he wasn't going to take it out and re-read the parts about his brother and his father being so unhappy with him; he wasn't going to let her threats give him nightmares again. … Then why aren't I ripping up this letter right now? The letter lay to the left of his plate, unharmed.
I will rip it up. I will. He asserted, but as he looked down to get the letter, it wasn't there. In a split second of panic he noticed that Carina was holding it – reading it! Her eyes were scanning the page quickly. He wanted to lash out at her, grab back the letter, scream at her, and tell her that if she ever told anyone what she had read he'd kill her. But he couldn't move. He was frozen in place – in horror and mortification – as he watched her finish reading and look up at him.
He couldn't find words. Without even looking apologetic, she ripped the letter in half herself and then handed him the pieces.
"You always destroy your letters. I was curious. Here." To his surprise she nonchalantly handed him her own letter from home. He was glaring at her, but was still too mortified to speak. He took her letter and stared down at it. It's not the same. My letter was awful. It's not alright just because you let me read your mail. Your letter is probably fine.
The script of the letter was elegant and light and characteristically feminine. Surprisingly, it was written in dark blue ink instead of black. He began to read.
.
Carina,
I've no time for formalities. We are displeased. Your father, brothers, and I are astounded that you weren't sorted into Ravenclaw. I've appeased them on your behalf, however…you're most welcome. After all, what does it matter if you are unintelligent? Your duty to this family is to marry well and bear sons; one does not need brains to do so adequately.
Furthermore, it seems Lord Gray has taken ill and will therefore be searching for a more immediate suitor for his son. Rest assured, your father will find an appropriate match for you before you become too old for any man to find appealing. Accept this hard blow with the grace and dignity that is expected. We will at least be receiving a large sum from Lord Gray as penance for his breaking off the engagement. We will likely add it to your dowry.
Lastly, remember to restrict your diet to the simplest and healthiest of foods. Beauty is so very important for a young woman to uphold. Thus, it is particularly critical for you since you now do not even have the promise of intelligence to add to your repertoire. Oh, and do try to restrain the use of your witty tongue, Carina. A lady should be seen and enjoyed, rather than heard…as you very well should know.
Fondly,
Your Mother
.
He looked up at her in surprise. Sure, he had heard his own family members speak of similar to matters to his female cousins, but they had never been talked down to in such a way. His family had always been run much more by the women than by the men. Women were to be put up on pedestals, not traded and bargained for money. Of course his family used dowries as well, but still…that was to be expected in high society.
Then there were the instructions to stay thin, beautiful, and keep her mouth shut. He couldn't imagine anyone saying such a thing to the women in his family. The speaker would likely have their head sliced off. Carina was already a very slight delicately framed girl; it surely wasn't possibly for her to get any thinner without beginning to look ill. If Carina was supposed to be keeping quiet at school, she was doing the exact opposite; she was witty and outgoing; she always spoke her mind no matter who she was speaking to. The recent cat prank rose to his mind.
What was more was that her parents too were unhappy with her sorting into Gryffindor. She hadn't let it show of course – then again, neither had he. Perhaps he was not as alone as he thought.
"Do me a favor, will you?" She asked him matter-of-factly when she saw he'd stopped reading. Sirius looked up at her, his eyes filled with a multitude of emotions over learning more about Carina's family. She shoved a camera into his hands.
"Take a photo for me. Make sure you get my plate."
Sirius looked down at the plate that she'd piled six inches high with pastries. Then she picked up a doughnut in her right hand and a Danish in her left hand, smirked recklessly, and took a bite out of the doughnut. Sirius snapped the photo.
A puff of smoke erupted from the camera, and a photo slid out of the front near the bottom. She took the camera back and looked at the photo eagerly. Sirius watched as the Carina in the photo continued to make her way through all of the pastries, eating each one.
Carina gave a small laugh. Then she took out a quill and ink and wrote on the back of her mother's letter.
.
I've received your letter, Mother. I assure you that I will take this tragic news with the upmost dignity and grace. Tell Christian that if he dares to hold my intelligence in question again, he will find himself in more than just a battle of wits. Hoping you are all enjoying your time without me as much as I enjoyed these pastries.
Your Gryffindor daughter,
Carina
.
With that, Carina stuck the photo and the letter into an envelope and sent it off with her mother's owl.
"Tragedy indeed" she said with a sarcastic smirk. She pushed the plate of food away from her. "I think we're probably the only ones; don't you?"
Sirius knew exactly what she was referring to, because it was what he had been thinking as well. Only he had now seemed to recover a bit since the initial shock of her reading his letter.
"You can't just read someone's mail" he said forcefully. Luckily, no one else around them seemed to be paying them any attention. Anne and James were engaged in some type of debate, and Peter and Remus were listening.
"You'll find that I always do what I want" she said unapologetically. "At least here" she added in reference to the school. "I assume that you can understand that desire?"
"You shouldn't assume anything about me" Sirius snapped. "You don't know anything about me, and you had no right to read my letter."
"Perhaps assume was the wrong word. I should have said I 'all but know', for despite what my family seems to think, I am not a clueless little doll. I'm perfectly perceptive, and I know that you and I a lot alike. We aren't the same, but we're alike. I won't apologize for sneaking through the barrier you've put up. One day you'll be glad I read your letter."
Sirius gawked at her bold unwavering confidence. What she did was wrong. She can't just go around reading people's personal mail.
"You're unbelievable" he scoffed, wanting to be angry, but his fury was overshadowed by her utterly astounding self-assuredness.
"I know" she replied as if he had complimented her. She effortlessly rejoined the others in conversation. Sirius sat there astounded for several minutes until he finally came to his senses. She can't tell anyone.
"Carina" he said flatly, and she turned. "You can't –" he began, but she cut him off before he could finish. This time she was empathetic. Her blue eyes softened as she took in his desperate expression.
"I won't." Then she smiled, "As long as you don't ever tell my mother that I didn't actually eat all of these pastries." He wanted to smile at her joke, but realty was crashing down on him.
She knows. This girl knows about how my mother is. She knows about who I really am…weak, worthless, bad.
"Sirius" she whispered calmly, staring into his eyes. "I understand. I really do. I won't tell anyone. I'm quite skilled at keeping secrets."
All he could do was stare back at her, hoping more than anything that she was telling the truth. He felt sick.
After breakfast, she and Anne took their usual seats behind him and James in each of their classes. As the day went on, he realized that she wasn't treating him any differently now that she knew: she wasn't treating him like he should be mocked, or worse - pitied. On the contrary, she smiled at him as if they were bonded. They both knew each other's secrets - at least some of them - now. As the day went on, she didn't try to force a conversation about either of their letters or their families. She acted friendly and natural the same way that she always had. Maybe she's alright. Maybe we are alike. Maybe she could understand.
