AN: Thanks to those of you who reviewed! It's true, my grammatical skills
leave a lot to be desired . . . Anyway, onward with this kind of
disturbing chapter. It deals with semi-mature themes. Perhaps I should up
the rating. bursts into tears Poor Sirius....
Harry was beginning to get a headache. He had never been stuck inside a Pensieve for so long. Lupin had grown increasingly silent as the memories had progressed, and Harry was feeling inexplicably guilty. He somehow felt that he was intruding on Sirius's life, even though Sirius was dead. Unfortunately, that thought made him feel even worse.
Harry and Lupin were now inside one of the bedrooms in Number 12 Grimmuald Place. Sirius was sitting on a large, ornately carved bed with a dark wooden frame, deeply absorbed in a letter he was writing. The heavy, velvety, black curtains surrounding the bed were pinned up with thick silver clasps.
Harry guessed that it must be summer, and the Sirius couldn't have been more than 12 or 13. There were a number of large, stately paintings on the dark green walls, but Sirius seemed to have covered them, and most of the walls, with various posters of Quidditch teams and a rock band called "The Green Goblins". There was a shiny racing broom propped up in the corner. Harry bent over and examined the broom. The words "Nimbus 600" glinted in gold lettering on the handle.
Finally satisfied with whatever he was writing, Sirius jumped off and bounded out of the room so fast Harry had run to get up with him. Lupin followed behind them, moving reluctantly. Sirius leapt through the door to the living room and came to an abrupt halt.
"Mum, have you seen Salazar?" asked Sirius. Harry decided it wasn't surprising that the Blacks had named their owl after the founder of the Slytherin House. "I need to send this," added Sirius, holding the letter aloft. Harry noticed the letter was addressed to James in very messy handwriting.
Mrs. Black was sitting in a high-backed chair in the center of the room. Harry recognized her from the portrait, which currently hung in the front hall of the modern Grimmuald Place. She was still wearing the same hideous bonnet over her black hair and was staring at Sirius with her roving, slightly mad eyes. There were a number of open letters piled on her lap.
"Why?" demanded Mrs. Black shrilly. "So you can send more letters to your filthy half-breed friends?!" She was clutching a letter in her pale, bony hands. For someone still quite young, she looked pale and withered, like a plant that hadn't gotten enough sun.
"Have you been reading my mail?" said Sirius, the shocked look on his face quickly turning into a look of rage.
"Half-bloods!" she shrieked, not answering Sirius's question. "Blood traitors! How can you associate with such filth? It's bad enough, being in Griffindor! Now you have to soil the family name even further—"
"I can associate with whoever I want to!" yelled Sirius furiously. He stomped over to his mother and snatched the letters out of her hands. "These are mine!"
Mrs. Black slapped Sirius hard across the face. He backed away slowly. "Wait until I tell your father what you've been up to!" she screeched, her eyes bulging slightly.
"I hate you!" said Sirius venomously. "I HATE YOU! What family honor?! You're just a bunch of pure blood maniacs and I wish I had never—"
Mrs. Black pulled her wand and shrieked out a curse. There was banging noise and Sirius fell backwards onto the ground, a streak of blood trickling down his cheek.
"How dare you speak to me like that!" she screamed. "Go to your room! Don't come out until you can apologize for your behavior!"
"Well than I guess I'm never coming out!" yelled Sirius furiously. He turned and ran out of the room, tears sparkling in his eyes.
Harry was in shock. The Dursleys had always tried to make him miserable, but he couldn't imagine Uncle Vernon hitting him, especially not to the point where he was bleeding.
Sirius was halfway down the dark hallway when Harry spotted a small, wrinkly figure step out in front of him, blocking his path. Kreacher was younger, but still hunched over. There was an evil grin on his tiny face.
"No, supper for the Young Master tonight?" he inquired, cackling. "Pity, pity...You're breaking poor mistress's heart, such a little brat..."
"Shut up, elf," growled Sirius. "Get out of my way!" Kreacher stepped aside and bowed low in a mocking fashion.
"As you wish, Young Master," he replied, smirking.
Sirius let out a frustrated growl and continued down the hall. He entered his room, slammed the door shut, and threw himself onto his bed, cursing loudly as he went. Sirius hadn't moved from that position when the scene once again began to dissolve.
In the next memory Harry and Lupin found themselves back at Hogwarts, in the middle of what appeared to be Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall was standing in front of the classroom, looking much younger but still quite stiff and severe.
"Transforming rabbits into hats is quite similar to transforming armadillos into slippers, but slightly more specific..." she explained curtly. "The wand motion is more of a half-oval than a regular circle...."
As far as Harry could tell, James and Sirius weren't listening to a single thing she was saying. They were doodling on a piece of parchment and snickering loudly. Professor McGonagall was continually throwing disapproving glares in their direction, clearly hoping they would stop goofing off before she had to interrupt class and yell at them.
Harry leaned over James shoulder and inspected the drawing that was apparently more engrossing than class. James was drawing an extremely sloppy sketch of a stick figure on a broomstick holding a figure labeled "Snivellus" upside down by his feet. Sirius was drawing what appeared to be a werewolf chewing on "Snivelly's" head. Adult Lupin looked at the drawing and frowned.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Black!" said Professor McGonagall, finally losing her patience. "Would you care to demonstrate?"
Remus, who was sitting directly in front of his friends, looked up from his notes for the first time. Harry couldn't see how James and Sirius could possibly demonstrate whatever she wanted them to, but the two Marauders merely smiled.
"Pedalus," they said together, pointing at their wands at the rabbits in front of them. They soon had two identical white bowler hats, which they placed on their heads. James and Sirius grinned broadly at Professor McGonagall.
"Excellent job," she said in an extremely irritated tone. "Everyone else, please follow their example."
"Don't we get any points?" complained James.
"No," she replied, growing more irritated as the rest of the third years failed to properly transfigure their hats.
Snape was glaring at them, muttering something about arrogant fools under his breath. Harry noticed his parchment was covered with notes, but his bowler hat was still covered with fur.
"Severus was never particularly good in Transfiguration," explained Lupin, following Harry's gaze. "However, he did excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And Potions, obviously. I expect that could be attributed to his extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts themselves..."
"Mr. Pettigrew!" said McGonagall sharply. "What are you doing? I said a half-oval, not a jabbing motion." Harry smiled grimly as Peter shrunk in his chair, trying to appear insignificant. "Honestly, where is your head boy?" she scolded as Pettigrew's bowler hat, which had six legs, jumped off the table and scurried across the room...
AN: Haha, this is fun. What other memories should I do?
Harry was beginning to get a headache. He had never been stuck inside a Pensieve for so long. Lupin had grown increasingly silent as the memories had progressed, and Harry was feeling inexplicably guilty. He somehow felt that he was intruding on Sirius's life, even though Sirius was dead. Unfortunately, that thought made him feel even worse.
Harry and Lupin were now inside one of the bedrooms in Number 12 Grimmuald Place. Sirius was sitting on a large, ornately carved bed with a dark wooden frame, deeply absorbed in a letter he was writing. The heavy, velvety, black curtains surrounding the bed were pinned up with thick silver clasps.
Harry guessed that it must be summer, and the Sirius couldn't have been more than 12 or 13. There were a number of large, stately paintings on the dark green walls, but Sirius seemed to have covered them, and most of the walls, with various posters of Quidditch teams and a rock band called "The Green Goblins". There was a shiny racing broom propped up in the corner. Harry bent over and examined the broom. The words "Nimbus 600" glinted in gold lettering on the handle.
Finally satisfied with whatever he was writing, Sirius jumped off and bounded out of the room so fast Harry had run to get up with him. Lupin followed behind them, moving reluctantly. Sirius leapt through the door to the living room and came to an abrupt halt.
"Mum, have you seen Salazar?" asked Sirius. Harry decided it wasn't surprising that the Blacks had named their owl after the founder of the Slytherin House. "I need to send this," added Sirius, holding the letter aloft. Harry noticed the letter was addressed to James in very messy handwriting.
Mrs. Black was sitting in a high-backed chair in the center of the room. Harry recognized her from the portrait, which currently hung in the front hall of the modern Grimmuald Place. She was still wearing the same hideous bonnet over her black hair and was staring at Sirius with her roving, slightly mad eyes. There were a number of open letters piled on her lap.
"Why?" demanded Mrs. Black shrilly. "So you can send more letters to your filthy half-breed friends?!" She was clutching a letter in her pale, bony hands. For someone still quite young, she looked pale and withered, like a plant that hadn't gotten enough sun.
"Have you been reading my mail?" said Sirius, the shocked look on his face quickly turning into a look of rage.
"Half-bloods!" she shrieked, not answering Sirius's question. "Blood traitors! How can you associate with such filth? It's bad enough, being in Griffindor! Now you have to soil the family name even further—"
"I can associate with whoever I want to!" yelled Sirius furiously. He stomped over to his mother and snatched the letters out of her hands. "These are mine!"
Mrs. Black slapped Sirius hard across the face. He backed away slowly. "Wait until I tell your father what you've been up to!" she screeched, her eyes bulging slightly.
"I hate you!" said Sirius venomously. "I HATE YOU! What family honor?! You're just a bunch of pure blood maniacs and I wish I had never—"
Mrs. Black pulled her wand and shrieked out a curse. There was banging noise and Sirius fell backwards onto the ground, a streak of blood trickling down his cheek.
"How dare you speak to me like that!" she screamed. "Go to your room! Don't come out until you can apologize for your behavior!"
"Well than I guess I'm never coming out!" yelled Sirius furiously. He turned and ran out of the room, tears sparkling in his eyes.
Harry was in shock. The Dursleys had always tried to make him miserable, but he couldn't imagine Uncle Vernon hitting him, especially not to the point where he was bleeding.
Sirius was halfway down the dark hallway when Harry spotted a small, wrinkly figure step out in front of him, blocking his path. Kreacher was younger, but still hunched over. There was an evil grin on his tiny face.
"No, supper for the Young Master tonight?" he inquired, cackling. "Pity, pity...You're breaking poor mistress's heart, such a little brat..."
"Shut up, elf," growled Sirius. "Get out of my way!" Kreacher stepped aside and bowed low in a mocking fashion.
"As you wish, Young Master," he replied, smirking.
Sirius let out a frustrated growl and continued down the hall. He entered his room, slammed the door shut, and threw himself onto his bed, cursing loudly as he went. Sirius hadn't moved from that position when the scene once again began to dissolve.
In the next memory Harry and Lupin found themselves back at Hogwarts, in the middle of what appeared to be Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall was standing in front of the classroom, looking much younger but still quite stiff and severe.
"Transforming rabbits into hats is quite similar to transforming armadillos into slippers, but slightly more specific..." she explained curtly. "The wand motion is more of a half-oval than a regular circle...."
As far as Harry could tell, James and Sirius weren't listening to a single thing she was saying. They were doodling on a piece of parchment and snickering loudly. Professor McGonagall was continually throwing disapproving glares in their direction, clearly hoping they would stop goofing off before she had to interrupt class and yell at them.
Harry leaned over James shoulder and inspected the drawing that was apparently more engrossing than class. James was drawing an extremely sloppy sketch of a stick figure on a broomstick holding a figure labeled "Snivellus" upside down by his feet. Sirius was drawing what appeared to be a werewolf chewing on "Snivelly's" head. Adult Lupin looked at the drawing and frowned.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Black!" said Professor McGonagall, finally losing her patience. "Would you care to demonstrate?"
Remus, who was sitting directly in front of his friends, looked up from his notes for the first time. Harry couldn't see how James and Sirius could possibly demonstrate whatever she wanted them to, but the two Marauders merely smiled.
"Pedalus," they said together, pointing at their wands at the rabbits in front of them. They soon had two identical white bowler hats, which they placed on their heads. James and Sirius grinned broadly at Professor McGonagall.
"Excellent job," she said in an extremely irritated tone. "Everyone else, please follow their example."
"Don't we get any points?" complained James.
"No," she replied, growing more irritated as the rest of the third years failed to properly transfigure their hats.
Snape was glaring at them, muttering something about arrogant fools under his breath. Harry noticed his parchment was covered with notes, but his bowler hat was still covered with fur.
"Severus was never particularly good in Transfiguration," explained Lupin, following Harry's gaze. "However, he did excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And Potions, obviously. I expect that could be attributed to his extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts themselves..."
"Mr. Pettigrew!" said McGonagall sharply. "What are you doing? I said a half-oval, not a jabbing motion." Harry smiled grimly as Peter shrunk in his chair, trying to appear insignificant. "Honestly, where is your head boy?" she scolded as Pettigrew's bowler hat, which had six legs, jumped off the table and scurried across the room...
AN: Haha, this is fun. What other memories should I do?