On Samhain night
It was a room where one of them certainly didn't want to be, and on a night like tonight. Around the house was still a damp, neglected garden. The entrances here, as always, were sealed off. Only the frightening sounds of the Whomping Willow broke the familiar silence.
Inside was a mess of sheets of paper, blackened by wind and sun, with intricate patterns and texts that, again, only one of them could understand. Nearby lay dusty old volumes from long-gone wizards who had studied animagic manifestations, sketches on the open pages. It had been a long time since the boys had returned to reading, which was an inherently futile pastime, when one night they had rushed into the thick of it for the very friend who looked the scowliest in the company today. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and the whole floor was covered with stains and twigs, which did not usually embarrass anyone, for the main place here was on the second floor.
Every piece of furniture inside was conspicuously divided into zones, or rather safe areas, which were forbidden to be crossed by others at certain hours and twenty-four hours a week when they wanted some privacy or to write another note to the redheaded witch, leaving a short message invented by sleepless nights. The room looked deserted, but signs of life were visible: angled candles glowing warmly with the flick of a wand; bright, obviously Muggle posters over one of the chairs, where a leather jacket lay carelessly; an unfinished game with the king's last move on the chessboard; and, of course, the centerpiece, where a trunk containing things that were no longer of value to anyone else stood. Next to it was a chair with a leg almost torn off, where the most inconspicuous of them had already taken a seat; not even moonlight was falling on it, through the carelessly boarded-up windows. In fact, the room was alive. But the countdown of time here went by its own rules.
"And how long do we have to stare at your sly face, Black," he broke the silence that always ensued here once the four friends were in the half-abandoned Shrieking Shack.
The gaze of all three of them was fixed on the grumbling and scattering around the already damaged objects at their hands that had not withstood the boyish experiments taken from the ancient books. Sirius was beyond excited, as if he were a child who had finally solved the most difficult puzzle of his life and now wanted to share his genius idea with everyone. But everyone here knew how his ideas usually turned out. And they were excited.
"For the rest of my life, ahem... Potter," the smile on his face took on an eerie hue when a strange worn board with barely legible symbols appeared in one hand and a small note in the other. - There it was!"
"Our adventure for tonight and punishment for the next week," the blue-eyed brunette boredly, scratching the back of his head and reaching his hand to the nearest wall he was afraid to touch. Dumbledore definitely should have tried harder when he chose a hut to hide the young werewolf within the castle grounds.
"Technically, for the next two weeks, since we still haven't closed tails with McGonagall after that run-in with..."
" ...with total assholes who once again decided to stick their tongue out of their ass and tried to say some words that magically fucking turned into total disrespect for one of our great team members. Yes, Peter?"
"Almost verbatim, Padfoot, commendable."
"Learning from the best," - Black winked at Lupin and held the board forward.
"What's that supposed to mean?" - For the first time all night, the silence was broken by James, who was obviously upset about something.
"What does your face mean when you haven't been given one by Lily again?" - Sirius poked him, dodging a punch in the shoulder.
"Oh, just shut up. Get to the point, you know we don't spend time here without an obvious need."
"Misters Moony, Prongs, and Wormtail," - Sirius drummed his fingers on James's lap, clearly looking forward to yet another debriefing," - a Ouija board.
"Padfoot, to business," - Remus sounded still bored or rather disappointed.
A small latch slammed shut, revealing the wooden field and presenting strange symbols to the sight of the foursome. The wind howled in the room for added effect.
"Good idea, where to leave a review so I don't fall for that again?" - Peter didn't show an ounce of interest, tucking into his diary, which he'd been lugging around forever and leaving notes that were just as eye-catching to Sirius, but he'd deal with it later.
"We'll summon the spirit," - there was an unnatural silence in the room, which after a few seconds was broken by loud laughter echoing through the hall and stretching even to the second floor, bouncing off the dirty and empty walls.
"Is that what you've been working on all week, Padfoot? Where did you even get it?" - James kept theatrically stroking his stomach, acting out wild spasms of bursting laughter.
"Specifically, who did you steal it from? And who do we have to cover for you again?" - Peter hadn't laughed like that in a long time, drawing attention to himself, for his smile was the rarest of all.
"I'll pass," - Remus reached up and loosened his tie, showing that he wasn't comfortable. - You know what they say about this place, don't you? You think it's funny?"
"No, Moony, that's not how you..."
"That's enough laughing now, I'm off to dinner. And clean up this mess you've made," he threw on his robe and headed for the exit of the room."
"Moony-Moony-Moony," - Black chanted, also throwing on the outerwear in the form of a worn muggle jacket he'd found on another foray into nonmagical London, having already caught up with his friend. - Look, you've got to keep up that legend about the haunted house, you know?"
"Black," - James' heavy hand rested on his shoulder, nonverbally ordering him to shut up, but Sirius continued.
"I'm not gonna do it here. It's Samhain, come on! We'll come back from dinner and have a ritual or two in our room, having already had a fair sip of firewhiskey to make sure we see the ghosts. Or at least bump into a pale-faced Severus," the boy went on, stepping over the threshold and dropping the plug, persuading them.
"We have Transfiguration tomorrow, as a reminder, and no one..."
"It wouldn't occur to anyone that McGonagall would ask anything of her pet James, who had clearly bewitched her. But would like a different person."
"For the other person, Black, you'll get it in the face," - James trailed off a little, accustomed to his friend's antics and just humbly awaiting the outcome of the "confrontation" between these two stubborn, perpetually arguing Gryffindors.
"Re-e-emus, come on, what's it gonna take for you to sit next to me, holding hands?"
"It'll cost me my life one day, I swear, all your shenanigans don't lead to anything good."
"What about that thing with the locker room and..."
"Tell that to Lily! She still thinks I'm a pervert," James smiled enigmatically and languidly, clearly reliving the memories of the past week. - She told me I had an incurable disease.
The boys stopped abruptly, taking James' words seriously, and waited for him to continue his sentence, expressing agreement with their silence.
"A disease called impenetrable stupidity," - the boy finished and took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes.
Second laugh from Peter tonight. That could be considered a personal victory.
"Drama King, today is not your day. I'll say it again. After dinner. Everyone be in the room. Especially you, James," Sirius was adamant about having an interesting evening.
One obsession had been burning through his mind all week, ever since he'd found the strange wood inside the chest he'd stolen from the Headmaster's room. Whatever it was, Sirius had never before seen so many ancient symbols and so many imprisoned charms inside a single parchment. Almost as many as were stored on their own Map, where he left new notes every night. Tonight would have to be skipped.
The last year of Hogwarts was supposed to be special for them, and he tried every day to remind his friends of that, no matter how he could. Even if sometimes they got it from the teachers, Sirius began to notice the unnaturally quiet James, who was just starting to get on with the redhead, but something was clearly not going according to plan; the heavily focused on business Remus, who ignored all his taunts and insults; the perpetually staring out the window or at his notebook Peter.
And he was the only one who was excited about completing another life lesson in DADA, which they would never use in life. He was the only one who kept getting his blood pumping, getting into a couple or three stories in the first month of school. He was the only one who kept putting new places on the map. Something was clearly wrong here.
At Hogwarts, his survival turned into a constant race for independence and acceptance. The only person Black could rely on was always himself. Even though he had his own gang, or rather a hellish trio of players he was willing to die for, trust was built on power. On the feeling that Sirius could control the situation. And his marauders were clearly out of control. Or just matured, who knew. But his gang needed him, Black was pretty sure of that. And he wouldn't be Sirius if he didn't make them rely on their senses in choosing how to spend tonight. They could rely on him.
Without that feeling, he was weak. He had nothing but their friendship - he was abandoned by his family, his own brother, and the girls who were always hanging around him, who, after hearing the news of the severed ties and the rumors of a scorched portrait on the family tree, avoided him. Sirius was vulnerable like the rest of them, but no one cared.
Sirius Black trusted no one. Sirius Black hadn't relied on anyone but himself for the past six years. And the last time he'd done that, it had been the biggest mistake he'd ever made. But he would deal with the house yet, and he needed to pull the boys out of the depression on his own.
James bit his lip and raised an eyebrow in surprise, composing another quip in his head that he couldn't say in front of Lily Evans. Remus was cupping his hands in his hands again, unsure of something unpleasant, judging by the look on his face. Peter seemed to be stuffing something in his coat pocket, looking around nervously. They would definitely need to talk about it, but not today. Sirius took a breath. Air trickled through his lungs, reaching the internal organ that oxygenated his body, stopping him for a second to think and start moving again, exhaling forcefully back out. Steady. They were almost at the Castle, an object in his hands that clearly held magic, and before him a trio of friends, ready to drag themselves out of the Castle into the cold October to listen to his insane proposal. Was it crazy? Definitely.
After reading out the old spell in the note, he hadn't been paying attention at first, but then he woke up with a corrosive uneasy feeling, like he should definitely try something, should definitely open it, and should definitely summon someone. It was hard to explain, especially to other people, but Sirius was sure that Samhain night had turned up for a reason. Some might have said that it was the stars in the sky shifting so to appear as an omen to him, but he didn't believe in that shit, preferring to lock away, like a prisoner in a cage, such speculation, leaning toward something more rational.
And the most rational thing was not to believe in the souls of the dead, which could be summoned with a piece of wood and a couple of words in Latin.
But he believed it. Because something inside tickled his vertebrae, pulling out one by one and swapping places.
The cool night wind was chilling him to the bone, even though Moony had warned him to wear something over it, but his rebellious spirit hated school robes that looked completely ridiculous on his trim body over his bomber. I think that was what James, clearly more versed in Muggle fashion, had called the article of clothing. The wind was colliding with his hot breath today in the nervous anticipation of Halloween night. They were almost approaching Hogwarts.
The night of Samhain was only hours away, and Sirius, as a member of an ancient family, believed in the ancient customs of the wizards who regarded this night as the veil between the world of the living and the dead. On the night of Samhain, people used to prefer to wear masks, hiding from the spirits and tossing their unfulfilled hopes into the fire. That was what attracted him to the Celts - Sirius wanted to suggest that the Marauders set fire to what had bothered them all the past month, and start November on a whole new page. They all needed that. And the Ouija board and spirit summoning nonsense was only meant to amuse them by distracting them from the real reason for such rituals. He couldn't tell them he was worried, could he?
He's already ahead of Peter at the door, reaching forward to open it in front of them, leaning in in a gentleman's pose before getting another kick in the stomach from James' elbow. Not in time to dodge it this time.
"Hey, ready to give a Sickle for your thoughts," - Potter always noticed him at times like this, should Sirius relax a little.
"So tell me you're more interested in me making millions off you. And who wouldn't want that?"
"Why didn't he tell me about going off on his own to hang out in that creepy Shack?" - Potter was clearly in the mood for a serious conversation as they walked to the Great Hall, filled with noisy students. - "I noticed that the books weren't in their place."
"You want me to reveal all my secrets? I thought that's what attracted you to girls, you know, their mystery."
"You're such a jerk today! - James flicked his finger across his forehead, ignoring his chuckle and continuing to insist. - I thought we were done with all this crap over the summer, when you snuck into the Ministry and stole that orb without waiting for my signal. You brought it back to the castle, too? Where is it?"
"Touché! You were too slow to keep up with me, Prongs. So I'll see you in the Common room later, and I'll show you exactly what I stole and for what purpose.
"Children's tales are hardly the goal, Padfoot," - he threw his leg over the bench, sitting down next to Remus, who was already reaching for a piece of something sweet.
"Don't you like reading those The Tales of Beedle the Bard?" - Peter took a sip of pumpkin juice and wiped his face with the sleeve of his white shirt.
"Phew, you've got aristocrats in front of you," - Sirius pointed to his face with a wave of his hand.
"Aristocrats burned out of the portrait," - I heard from a nearby Slytherin table. - "What's up, Black? You're penniless, and you're reaching for the Potters for some gold? Did you blow him today, or do you have an hourly..."
"Padfoot, don't," Moony said softly and ingratiatingly, blocking his view of the table.
"It seems like someone really wants to rip off a piece of James, since so much of your attention is on the Gryffindor half of the table. At least they have a chance,» - I heard from the side of the double door, where none other than Lily the Future-Potter entered the Hall. That's what James called her.
The students whistled, clearly approving of her caustic comment, and glanced over, slapping an arbitrary rhythm on the table with their palms a few times.
"I take it back, you definitely had something with her, and you didn't say anything. What, it's that bad?" - Black stared at Potter, oblivious to the recent outburst in his direction. Lily Evans walked past them and sat down next to another group of guys, escorting the younger classes closer to the pumpkins at the festive table.
The air turned dark and the school ceiling was draped in glittering candles as the high and long voice of the principal invited everyone to join in the Halloween celebration, not forgetting to mention going back to their rooms after dinner.
James just shook his head, letting out a short chuckle and staring into the green eyes of his lady of the heart, while Remus was already finishing his portion of steak. A few mentions of newspaper articles, loud headlines, and sports news drowned out the recent thoughts of Black, who was looking forward to going to the Room. About twenty minutes later, after exchanging brief glances, the friends rose from their seats, said goodbye to everyone, and left for Gryffindor Tower.
"Salazar, Sirius, what have you turned the living room into?! " - Remus threw his arms forward and shrieked, staring in shock at the floor, where white signs had already been scrawled, several parchments stacked and a strange bowl filled with water stood in the center. Or was it? The fire wasn't crackling in the fireplace, and the atmosphere wasn't pleasant, though that was how it felt on normal days. The strange decorations that the girls had put up around the room in preparation for tomorrow night's party were creepy, too.
"Just made room for us," - Sirius tossed at him as he sat down in front of the bowl, retrieving a pomegranate, some claws, a few dried leaves and some chrysanthemums from a pouch on the floor.
"Cute little craft kit. Do we have art class today? I didn't bring my graphite pencils, too bad," - James was in a clearly good mood now.
"Sit in a circle," the voice came harshly, and no one dared contradict it. The four of them were in front of a board, a bowl, and a strange parchment. Black drew a knife.
"Did someone say it was a bad idea yet?" - Peter felt uncomfortable, pulling his legs under him and leaning his elbow on the nearest sofa.
"That's not a good idea," Remus confirmed his hunch, stretching his legs out in his chair but leaning down, showing his involvement. And only James remained on his feet, just standing in the circle.
"Sit down, Prongs," their appeals like that always had that effect, as if unwittingly reflecting the seriousness of their intentions. Black swiped the palm of his hand with a swift, confident motion, dipping it into the bowl and leaving drops of his pure blood there.
"Fuck, here we go," James knelt down, taking the baton and the outstretched knife. Another drop of pure blood ended up in the bowl. A couple minutes later, the entire space was ready for the ritual, the true essence of which only one person in this room knew. Did he?
"On the night of October 31 to November 1, in many ancient cultures there was a custom when nations addressed the dying Sun God and opened the gates between the worlds. During this period of chaos on earth, the spirits of people who had died or had not yet entered the world of the dead could return to their homes. The ritual not only drew the soul from the other world, but also cleansed the thoughts and souls of the magicians involved. This is not dark magic, but it is powerful. You need to take it seriously," Black had never read lines from books almost by heart before. - The cleansing ritual must be accompanied by "wrong" or "charged with bad energy" objects. Here, I've got them ready," Black pointed to several items from their bedroom, the absence of which the marauders clearly hadn't noticed.
"Seriously, Padfoot? My book?" - Moony was indignant.
"That's the way to do it, don't be silly," Sirius quickly shut him up, making another motion with his wand in the air and crushing the prepared ingredients that lay on the board in front of them. - We'll write our names and then think about who we'd like to summon. The spirit will latch on to the stronger energy and end up in the center. But first we have to set it on fire," the flames inside the bowl erupted, illuminating their faces with an eerie but warm glow, and objects from the floor flew into the looters' hands.
"We should throw them in the fire," Sirius began. Honestly, he liked the performance that these jerks, who were clearly taking his antics seriously, believed in. - Before the ritual, sit still and think of loved ones, perhaps those you've lost. Or about what you've lost lately. The material world is not the only reality that..."
"Fuck, Black, cut the shit, I'm sick of your speeches. To business," James threw his pendant into the bowl, and the altar flashed red.
"What would you ask the dead if they answered?" - Peter threw his question to a group of friends.
"Are they talking? Sounds creepy," James smiled dreamily, his thoughts remaining in the Great Hall.
"I would ask, what would it be like to die?" - Remus answered his friend.
"Quicker than falling asleep," Sirius threw in their unaccustomed silence.
Their eyes drifted to the center of the room, where the inscription "Memento mori" appeared around the edges of the board.
"Remember death?" - Remus asked first.
Sirius touched the chalkboard in the meantime, casting the last line of the spell to himself and hoping that the ghosts he had bribed at Hogwarts this morning would not miss the right moment.
The space between them suddenly erupted, and the board scrolled right across the floor, making an unpleasant grinding noise. Well, not a bad effort. The air grew colder. The sounds went silent. All that could be heard was the short gasp of his friends, who were clearly tense, and James' gaze was already fixed on the wand in his hand. Sirius heard a scream.
"What the hell?" - Peter said somewhere toward the window, where the rain was drumming on the eaves.
Another scream. And another. Black's palms erupted in a cold sweat, and his hands slid across the board in an obviously uncontrollable motion.
"James...? - Sirius said softly just before everything around him suddenly went wrong. The room swirled before his eyes, the lights grew dimmer, the curtains on the windows began to convulse, and the sharp jolts of wind began to push him closer and closer to the board, as if to force him to dip his palm into the bowl and burn his hand, which he just did. Something was clearly not going according to plan.
"Fuck, Black, you're going to set the room on fire, stop it," James moved forward trying to wave his wand, but was thrown back by the air current. Remus shouted something, Peter tried to use Aguamenti to extinguish his hands. But Sirius couldn't hear them anymore. All that sounded was a scream. It wasn't even sounding, it was cutting. He could only feel the sharp pain piercing his arm, and that organ pounding in his chest was suddenly getting slower... and slower... and slower. And at some point, as if a cold wave tossed Sirius back onto the shore from the depths of his consciousness, and he felt someone's warmth in his hand. It was a hand. A hand in his hand. He opened his eyes as if he'd just woken up from another night out, and his eyelids were still heavy.
Girl. There was a flesh-and-blood girl sitting in front of him, putting her palm in his hand and staring completely insane and unfocused ahead of him, oblivious to anyone else beside him.
It's not real. It can't be real.
It was as if time had stopped. His heart was beating out its former rhythm again, and the lights flickered in the room, letting the other Gryffindors inside. A girl with brown hair and brown eyes burned a hole in him, not averting her gaze.
"Who the hell is she? - He heard James scream in the distance, stunned, but he didn't pay attention.
"Sirius," the stranger said with tears in her eyes.