Of A Sort
by FernWithy
September 1, 1969: It Begins
Part One: Up To No Good
Peter Pettigrew hadn't been able to find a free trolley for his trunk, and getting through the barrier unnoticed with the thing dragging along and scraping the floor and thudding had been a bit of a trick, but it was done now. With a last gasp, he pulled it around in a sharp arc, leaving tracks in the dirt on the floor of the platform. He looked around cautiously, hoping someone had seen him and would offer help (and maybe congratulations on getting through), but everyone else was involved in their own preparations for school. No one at all had seen him come through.
He sighed.
Everyone else's parents had come along (except a handful of people Peter assumed to be Muggle-born; they were huddled together under the sign that said "Hogwarts Express"), but Mother had one of her sick headaches this morning, and she wanted to get some rest before this afternoon's meeting of the Ladies' Potion-Making Association. They would be brewing something that was meant to restore gray hair to its natural, youthful color, then there was something meant to keep a slim figure (Mother had eyed Peter's slovenly shape with distaste when she mentioned this; he had most definitely not gotten her looks). Dad had gone off on Ministry business two days ago with his secretary, a nasty woman named Marcellina who always looked at Peter like he was a particularly unappetizing leftover.
He sat down on the trunk to rest, his shoulders starting to twinge from the long drag through King's Cross. No one noticed him.
All around him, students of various ages were calling one another, pulling trunks onto the scarlet steam engine that waited on the tracks. A bespectacled boy was getting kisses and packages from a number of adults who had gathered around him, seeming quite unconcerned about going off to school, though he, like Peter, appeared to be a first-year. A group of older girls were cooing over a kitten a bit further down, and beyond them a light-haired boy with a very pale face was clutching a heavy book to his chest like a shield while his parents whispered to him beside an open trunk. As Peter watched, his mother smoothed down his hair and kissed his forehead very tenderly. His father patted him bracingly on the arm. The boy gave a shaky nod, then decisively put his book in the trunk and dragged it all on board. His parents remained still, watching with worried glances.
There was a bit of a commotion on Peter's other side as a large family came through the barrier right next to him, obviously not exerting much effort to avoid being seen. A dark-haired teenage girl with a trolley bumped into Peter.
He scrambled up onto his trunk. "Sorry," he said. "Just resting."
"You're in the way of the barrier, you dolt," she said, pushing the trolley over the spot where his feet had been a moment before. "Learn some manners."
Another girl, this one with a shiny red and gold badge on her robes, pulled the first one away and gave her a warning look before moving aside. Three more adults had come through the barrier now, followed by eight house elves carrying four trunks. One of the adults whispered a Charm, or maybe a countercharm, and Peter guessed they'd been rendered unnoticeable in some way. After all, it would be difficult to hide them from Muggles, but they clearly weren't invisible. He'd never heard of a Charm to do such a thing, but he assumed it must exist.
Finally, a forbidding woman came through, one hand on the shoulder of each of two children, a boy and a girl. The boy was sharp-featured, with black hair and dark eyes. The girl looked a great deal like the boy, except she appeared to have been dropped in a vat of blanching potion, leaving her pale and blonde with eyes like ice. Judging by the expression on her face, the procedure hadn't been particularly pleasant.
She tugged on the forbidding woman's sleeve and pointed at Peter. "Auntie, that boy is staring."
The woman--Auntie--glared at Peter and pulled the girl behind her. "Direct your eyes elsewhere, filthy child," she said, then turned back to the girl. "All right, Narcissa," she said. "We've had our little talk. Go say goodbye to your parents." The girl wandered off to the adults who had come in first. Auntie continued to glare at Peter until he got down from his trunk and began to pull it laboriously toward the train. He didn't waste time hoping that they would offer one of their elves--or even trolleys--to help him out.
He wasn't even close to out of earshot when Auntie began talking again. She'd put one clawed hand on the boy's shoulder. It looked like she was digging in.
"Mum," he said, "c'mon, I was listening outside."
"You were hearing, Sirius, not listening. I saw you rolling your eyes and making your impertinent faces. You are a Black. You will behave appropriately. I do not want you mixing with... them."
"I'll make whatever friends I like! I--ow!"
Auntie was pinching his ear now, quite hard. "You listen to me, you ungrateful little--"
But Peter didn't find out what sort of ungrateful creature she was going to call her son. He gave his trunk another tug but he lost his grip on the sweaty handle, overbalanced, and fell over, landing on his backside with a thump.
Everyone around him turned to look, and the dark-haired girl laughed shrilly. It echoed for a moment before movement started again. Peter just remained quiet, knowing perfectly well that any movement or eye contact would only make it worse. At last, he felt that all eyes had turned away from him, and he pulled himself back up.
The boy, Sirius, nodded. "Yes, Mum," he said in an entirely unconvincing tone. "Whatever you say."
Auntie apparently didn't find this any more believable than Peter did. "You are a disgrace to the noble House of Black. You and your cousin--you'll end up just like her." She glared at her son, her nose slightly wrinkled. "I won't have it."
Sirius said nothing, just glowered at her.
She turned impressively and strode through the barrier, not waiting for an all-clear from the witch who was watching for Muggles.
Peter gave another tug at his trunk, then nearly stumbled again when it lifted easily and came toward him. He looked up. The boy Sirius was holding the other end of it. "Let me help," he said. "The house elves got mine."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "Narcissa and Mum hated you on sight. That's usually a good sign." His face split in a sunny grin, and he suddenly looked very different from his blonde cousin. "We'll stow it by mine. I've got a sack of dungbombs in my trunk. What say we spoil Narcissa's hair?"
Peter didn't have any special interest in tormenting Narcissa, but it was something to do, and Sirius was helping with the trunk. In fact, Sirius was doing most of the work; Peter himself was just holding it steady. They made their way onto the train, passing the Blacks' house elves as they went. Sirius tapped one of them with his foot. "Hey, Kreacher. Where're our things?"
The elf glared at him. "Young Master should be careful. Kreacher will tell his Mistress about his nasty feet."
"Where's my trunk?"
Kreacher raised his arm and pointed vaguely at a compartment partway down the car. Sirius rolled his eyes and kept going without thanking the elf.
Sirius's cousins weren't in the compartment--yet--but the luggage was lined up in neat rows under the seats. He veered Peter's trunk into an empty spot beside one that had been carved with the initials "BB," done in a spidery cursive and painted green and silver. He gave it a spiteful kick. A fifth trunk in the far corner was embossed with the silver letters "LM," and a sixth had the full name "R. Lestrange" on one side. All of these trunks were of solid wood. Peter's, with its chipping veneer, looked particularly wobegone among them.
Sirius pulled a mahogany trunk (labeled in silver with "SB") from under the opposite seat, popped it open, and fished around at the bottom. Stirring up his robes, books, and underwear, he pulled up a pewter cauldron and upended it. A non-descript cloth bag fell out of it, and Sirius grinned. "I was afraid Kreacher would check," he said. "But he didn't."
Peter smiled slightly, having no idea what to say. He'd spent some time with children of Mother's friends, but they all just made polite small talk until their parents let them leave. And at Ministry gatherings, Peter had never been part of the groups of roaming children--he was their target. Normally, he was the one that the dungbombs would be hurled at. He didn't know the first thing about planning such an attack.
Not that it mattered. Sirius didn't appear to need much feedback. "We can throw some. But we can prop some up here"--he put two on the back of the seat--"and they'll just go off when someone moves wrong." He bit his lip. "No. That could be Andromeda. We don't hit Andromeda."
"All right."
Regretfully, Sirius picked up the two balanced ones and handed them to Peter. "Is the compartment across the way empty?"
"No."
"Hmm." He rummaged in his own trunk again and came up with a well-made black cloak with silver fastenings. From a distance it would look the same as the one in Peter's trunk, but up close Peter could see the way the fine cloth shimmered and the silver fasteners were cunningly worked with Sirius's initials. He threw it over his shoulders and pulled the hood up. From the back, he wouldn't be especially recognizable, though Peter personally thought it would be a little suspicious to see someone in the corridor on September the first wearing a winter cloak. "C'mon," Sirius said, pulling Peter out into the hall. He pulled two handfuls of dungbombs from the bag and held them in his straining hands, letting the cloak fall closed around them. "You're the lookout. Tell me when you see them."
The cousins didn't appear immediately, and Sirius shifted impatiently from foot to foot. Peter shrugged. "Maybe they're sitting somewhere else."
Sirius shook his head. "Lucius Malfoy won't leave his care packages unattended long. He spent a week at the lake with us this summer." He wrinkled his nose. "If he marries Bella--that's the older one, the one that laughed--I'm leaving the family. Of course, I think I'll do that anyway," he finished philosophically.
Peter had no idea how to respond to this extraordinary pronouncement from a complete stranger. "Er," he said. "I think I'll get into my robes," he said. "To save time later."
Not to mention, before I have to fish them out with your cousins around when they've seen me throwing dungbombs at them with you.
"How will I know if they're coming?"
"Maybe they'll come from the other direction," Peter suggested, slipping back into the compartment. His heart was beating furiously. He pulled his trunk back out, retrieved a set of school robes from the top, and put them on over his clothes. He felt safer behind them.
"Who are you?" someone demanded.
Peter's heart leapt up into his throat and his head jerked up. In the window, he could see the ghostly reflection of Bella, a tall blonde boy, and another large boy. The blonde one looked alert and dangerous. The other looked like he could break Peter's arm with a simple twist, as long as someone reminded him exactly what an "arm" was and that it was filled with things called "bones."
He turned around.
"Oh," Bella said. "It's His Gracefulness from the platform. What are you doing in here? Did my sister the prefect adopt herself another pet failure?"
Peter shook his head dumbly.
"I invited him," Sirius said. Bella stepped aside, and Peter could see Sirius beside her, not looking impatient or amused anymore. The bag of dungbombs was slung over one wrist, and his arms were crossed over his chest. "I thought there would be room for his trunk here."
"Well, you don't think the two of you are going to sit with us, do you?"
"Like I'd want to." He crooked his finger. "C'mon. Let's find a place to sit."
Peter nodded and took a step toward the door. He caught the flash of a smile on Bella's face, and in later years he would have known to hurry at that point, but he paid no attention at that moment. He was leaving the compartment anyway. She had no reason to--
"Prolapsio!"
Suddenly, Peter's feet felt like they were on ice. He slipped forward, tried to catch himself by leaning backward, and ended up flying into the air and landing hard. He scrambled to get up, but Bella said, "Lubricus," and suddenly the floor seemed to be covered with grease.
Bella laughed and laughed, then something thudded and banged, and she started sputtering.
A different voice laughed, and Peter looked up to see Sirius, his hands full of dungbombs. One had gone off right in Bella's face. Narcissa, who had appeared at some point while Peter was struggling on the floor, got a splatter from it as well.
Sirius waved the remaining dungbombs at his cousins, then lobbed the three in his right hand and reached down for Peter in the same movement, pulling him out into the corridor. One of the boys made a disgusted sound, and Narcissa screamed prissily.
Peter felt himself dragged down the corridor behind the laughing Sirius, thinking only, Wonderful. And they have all my school things in there with them.
He was yanked back roughly, his robes tearing at the hem as the thick-looking boy dove for him from one direction while Sirius continued pulling him in the other.
"Hey!" he yelled.
A door opened from a side compartment and another boy came out. He stepped deliberately in the way and his foot found its way onto the boy's hand, forcing him to let go of Peter's robes. "Oops," he said. "I can't see where I'm going without my glasses." He smiled. "Oops, I seem to be wearing them after all."
Sirius laughed again and stopped pulling at Peter.
"Oh, get up, Rodo!" Bella said impatiently. "Do I have to tell you to do everything?"
Rodo got up dutifully and stood with his shoulders hunched, apparently waiting for new orders.
The new boy shook his head. "Nice smell," he said to Bella. "Really suits you."
Peter didn't wait to find out what spell she would throw next. He barreled into Sirius, who was still laughing, and pushed him into the next car. The new boy, now also laughing and dodging a spell, followed along. He raised his wand and said a charm that Peter didn't know (which was most of them), and Bella and her friends appeared to run into a barrier. Rodo fell down again. Peter felt wild laughter coming up, seeing the older students stopped up like that.
All of them were casting glances over their shoulders to watch the spectacle and see how long it would take to break, so they weren't paying much attention to where the were going. Peter was less comfortable than the other two not looking where he was running, so he was the one who saw the greasy-looking boy first.
"Hey, Sirius--" he started to warn, but they were moving too fast to stop. Sirius's left hand was leading, loaded with dungbombs, and he drove it straight into the boy's chest. The dungbombs exploded out onto the threadbare robes, splattering the boy entirely from his greasy hairline to his knees.
Sirius was still laughing. "S...s...sor..." he gasped, tripping around the other boy, who was glaring after him with real hatred. Peter wanted to stop, but he was being dragged along again. The bespectacled boy who'd stepped on Rodo's hand passed the dung-splattered one with a jovial shrug.
"Cruento!"
"Hey!"
Peter was going to keep running, but Sirius stopped and turned at the sound of the other boy's voice. Something was all over him, red and...
"That's blood," Peter said, disgusted.
The boy in glasses (now with finger smears to clear the gory mess) was no longer laughing. The other one--the one covered in dung--had an unpleasant smirk on his face, and his wand was still raised. Glasses-boy raised his own.
"Run!" Sirius called, pulling both Peter and the other boy along. That was when Peter noticed that Bella had broken through the barrier and was coming down the corridor toward them again.
The three boys ran madly into the next car (Bella was temporarily tripped up by the dung-covered boy, and the younger sister, Narcissa, appeared to stay back with him), and into the one after that. Sirius shot a look backward, then ducked into a compartment.
There was only one person here, the pale boy from the platform, his book out again, now spread out on his lap. He stood up, alarmed at the blood-covered, sweating newcomers. "Er... hello?" he tried.
Peter gave a weak smile.
"Damn!" Sirius said. He was looking out the glass window in the door. "She's still coming. Checking doors." With a desperate turn of his head, he reached a decision. He grabbed hold of an overhead rack and pulled himself onto it. "Toss us the blanket," he said to the bookish boy.
Peter shrugged at the boy's inquisitive look, and the blanket was duly handed up as the bespectacled boy climbed up beside Sirius. They hid themselves.
Peter looked longingly at the opposite rack and tried to lift himself up into it. He wasn't too fat to fit in it--at least he didn't think so--but he couldn't seem to pull himself up.
Something wrapped around his ankles.
He looked down to see the pale boy grinning. With an easy move, he gave a shove and gave Peter enough momentum to roll himself onto the rack. For a sickly-looking boy, he seemed to be extraordinarily strong.
He'd barely covered himself with a patched cloak the boy tossed when the compartment door sprung open.
"Where are they?" Bella demanded.
Peter peeked out carefully from a hole in the cloak.
The boy had picked up his book again and was reading it casually. "Who are you looking for?" he asked.
"The ones who left the bloody handprint on the door!" Bella exploded. "My cousin and the other two!"
"Oh, them. They moved on. Sort of slapped the door and kept going. Probably trying to trick you." He looked down at his book again.
"Don't lie to me. They've been running and one of them is covered in blood. I can smell them."
Bella came into the compartment and began turning up spare blankets on one end of the seat. "Get out here, Sirius," she said. "I mean it!"
"Honestly, Miss--?"
"Black."
"Miss Black. I think they went right on down to the end of the train."
"They did not. I'm telling you, if you lie to me, I'll--"
"Stop it, Bella."
Bella's words were cut off sharply. "I don't see where this is your business, Andromeda."
"I'm a prefect, Bella. You're not. Now, let up on Sirius."
"Did you see what he did?"
"I really don't care. Let up."
Bella gritted her teeth, but backed out of the compartment. Andromeda lingered at the door, looking up at the luggage rack. "Dungbombs?" she said to the blanket on the far side. "Really, Sirius. You're going to make my life difficult, aren't you?" She shook her head and left the compartment.
The blanket fell to the floor and Sirius and the other boy extricated themselves from the rack, dropping gracefully to the floor. Peter struggled with the cloak, finally freeing himself only to realize that he had no idea how to get down without falling. He must have looked confused. The others grabbed his hands without asking, the strong, pale one guiding his legs down to the seat.
"Thanks," he said, looking at them. There wasn't anything immediately to say. The four of them just looked at each other, smiling slightly. Peter bit his lip. "I'm Peter Pettigrew," he offered.
Sirius laughed. "Oh, right! I forgot I didn't know. I'm Sirius Black."
The other boy had taken his glasses off and was trying to clean them on his bloody robe. Peter offered him a clean handkerchief, which he took gratefully. "James Potter," he said. He looked at the fourth boy, who was still sitting with his book open on his lap. "And you?"
"Me?"
"No, the other person in the compartment who just saved our skins."
The boy with the book smiled brightly. "Remus," he said. "Remus Lupin."
James looked at Sirius. "Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but your cousin's a nutter."
"You don't know the half of it," Sirius said, shaking his head and planting himself on a seat. "You don't want to."
"Probably not," James agreed. He put his glasses back on, looking at them with distaste. "Don't suppose you know the cleaning charm?"
They all shook their heads. Looking around, Peter hoped they would all find someone who did before they had to meet the whole school.
James looked at Peter. "Are you going to sit down or not? I mean, you don't mind, do you, Remus? I think I wore out my welcome where I was before." James frowned, looking confused and irritated about something.
Remus shook his head.
Peter sat down by Remus, and then James looked around. "Well," he said casually, "we're all here."
A chill twisted down Peter's spine, but no one else seemed to notice anything at all odd, so he didn't comment.
James pulled a pack of cards from under his robes. "Who's for Exploding Snap?"
To be continued... in another compartment.