AN: Hellooo! Happy 2017! If you're here from The Light then prepare yourself for another heart-wrenching Marauders story with the same characterisation. Also, I am reusing a lot of the same scenes and interactions and motifs because they work in the original universe so, though you don't have to read The Light for this fiction to make sense, there will be many similarities between both stories if you do read them both.
This is my interpretation of the Marauders' story, and how I imagine their life blossoming. It will be sad, it will be lovely, and I would love to hear your thoughts and any headcanons or personal ideas that you would like me to include:)
Please correct me if I make any mistakes for I do want to keep as close to canon as possible.
I hope you like this, and I hope I do their story justice.
Everliah
Perhaps we are just kings,
Who once were promised gold.
Perhaps we are just boys,
Who never got to grow old.
Perhaps we are just men,
Sent to fight in somebody's war.
Perhaps we are not anything,
Though we once were something more.
Chapter One- Platform 9¾
September 1971
The platform was an explosion of life. He could hear snippets of conversation, floating past him, like snatches of a far-off dream, and laughter rang around the station. Owls hooted, children screamed, parents shouted, and all of it was like the most beautiful orchestra he had ever heard; music to his ears. The horn of the Hogwarts Express danced with it all.
The train was pulled up proudly, a vibrant red that glistened and beamed, and he felt his eyes widen at the sight, the grin pulling his lips before he could stop it. His legs stopped moving.
"Sirius!"
He tore his eyes away. His mother was scowling at him. She was a short woman, though her height hardly subtracted from her demanding presence. Her hair was blonde, and scraped back into strict curls that framed her face. Severity made her look older than she was, and her lips were perpetually pruned. She wore a period dress of the darkest purple, heavy with frills and embellishment. Walburga jerked her head, and he followed obediently.
They weaved their way through the throng of people, shoving past families to find a space where they could breathe, without being touched. Eventually, his mother stopped walking when they found his father and brother, standing a little apart from everyone else on the far end of the platform.
Walburga straightened her dress, fixing her curls, and said tightly, "Honestly. Where has the dignity gone? I barely raise my eyes and there are Muggles everywhere! It's like I cannot breathe without inhaling their mundanity. It's not right, Orion."
His father, a tall man of austere countenance whose pale, leathered face had not adorned an expression in years, stood beside his wife, though did not touch her. He was wearing long, dark robes and his hair, of a pitch black, fell to his shoulders, in stark contrast to Walburga's blonde.
"No, you're quite right, Walburga," he replied absently, his equally black eyes were roving the station, hands slipped into black gloves clutching his cane. He didn't seem too concerned about the fact, however, though Sirius knew his father agreed more ardently than what he was letting on.
Walburga raised a single, fine eyebrow at him, though opted not to comment and instead focused on her eldest son.
He was tall for his age, and wore his eleven years elegantly but boldly. His chin always seemed to be raised in defiance to something, and his eyes, though dark, glimmered with youth. It was like it drenched him, like he could never outgrow it, no matter how many more years dragged him down. Mischief seemed to run through his veins, and he lived and breathed it. The star for which he was named shone brilliantly within him, and outside in the beauty of his face.
"Sirius," his mother said, and she regarded him over the sharp point of her nose. She was all points and edges, his mother, giving the impression that if you touched her, you'd bleed.
Walburga knelt down in front of him, cupping his cheeks in her cold, bony hands. Sirius had inherited her aristocracy, and it tainted him in the shadows of his cheekbones and length of his eyelashes. The ghost of her lingered in his insolence.
"Your father and I will write to you, and we expect to hear progress reports on how you are doing," she continued, smoothing his hair back behind his ear. Though not kind, her face was not as harsh as it had been a second ago. "And remember, dear, tell your cousins that they're coming straight from school to our house for Christmas, this year." He refrained from pulling a face. She added, in a clipped voice that was slow with distaste, "Your Uncle Alphard is also coming for once. He's back in the country, which I'm sure is a surprise, though Salazar knows how long he'll be here for... With any luck, he'll be gone by New Year."
Sirius almost let his excitement show, but he was quick to stamp it down. His ears perked at the word 'cousins.' He asked, though careful not to let any hope seep into his voice, "Andromeda too?"
His mother's face tightened. "Yes. Uncle Cygnus requested. I imagine he thinks she is still susceptible to changing her mind, though your cousin seems to have made her opinions perfectly clear to me. She tarnishes the House of Salazar Slytherin."
Sirius' jaw clenched at this, though he simply looked away to avoid saying something he knew he shouldn't. The train's horn bellowed, like it was calling to him.
His mother straightened his robes, and her grey eyes were piercing and meaningful. Her lips stretched into a taut smile. She said, "Don't forget where you come from."
When Walburga stood back up, she smoothed down her dress, and wrinkled her nose at the children boarding the train.
"I can't believe the type of filth Dumbledore is letting into that school," she said coolly. "Cygnus was right. The old coot has let it go to the Muggles, as though they deserve to be there."
As his mother continued raging, Sirius tuned her out (it was a skill he learnt years ago) and turned to his brother.
He was a small boy, thin and pale, with the same dark hair and eyes. He wasn't looking at him.
"Regulus," Sirius said. His brother still didn't look at him. He moved closer so that they were stood incredibly close. "Regulus."
Finally, his brother looked at him.
His eyebrows were knitted together, eyes narrowed and hard. His bottom lip jutted slightly out. Sirius sighed.
"I'm not leaving forever," he told him. "I'll be back before you know it."
Regulus stared sullenly at him.
"Promise?" he asked after a moment.
Sirius smiled at him. He had never been more sincere when he said, "I promise."
"Sirius! The train is about to leave," his mother trilled behind them. "I won't have you sitting with Mudbloods, simply because you were too late to find an empty compartment-"
He ignored her, however, because he noticed the way Regulus' face dropped once more. Without another second passing them by, he pulled his younger brother into a bone-crushing hug, squeezing him so tightly it was like they were the same person.
"Don't forget to practise your reading," Sirius whispered in his ear.
"I won't," said Regulus.
They only broke apart when Walburga swatted the back of Sirius' head, and he grabbed his trunk and hauled it onto the train. He paused when he boarded, looking back at his family. They were cold and scanty, empty to the eye; Orion stood beside Walburga, his hand on Regulus' shoulder, holding him back.
Sirius couldn't say he was sorry to leave them.
Except for Regulus. He would write to Regulus every day.
The Hogwarts Express rolled forward, and he was thrown into the side. He huffed, dragging his trunk away from the window to try and find a compartment. His mother had been right; many were full already, crammed with friends reuniting after a summer apart. Their laughter echoed to him, but Sirius couldn't bring himself to care. All he wanted was to find a carriage.
Eventually, after a few minutes of searching, and when the platform had become a distant memory, he found an empty one and he opened it and fell inside. Sirius lugged his trunk in, managing somehow (and with great difficulty) to shove it up onto the rafters, before he collapsed on the seat.
His heart was thumping in his chest from the effort, and excitement thrummed through his body. He felt like this was the start of something big- maybe adventure. Maybe the rest of his life.
He closed his eyes. He wasn't necessarily tired, though he felt like all the years he had spent locked away in Grimmauld Place had drained him. Being away from his family, his mother in particular, felt like being allowed to eat when you had been starved for days. It was like being able to breathe freely for the first time in forever, and Sirius gulped it down. This serenity, this quiet before the storm, where he knew anything could happen, was tense but incendiary. He found he quite liked the feeling of being on the edge, of knowing he could jump or run and nobody could stop him from doing either.
"Excuse me, you don't mind if I sit in here, do you?" a voice said from the doorway. Sirius didn't move. Maybe if he thought he was sleeping, he'd go away. The boy frowned. "Are you alive?"
He prodded his foot.
"Yes," replied Sirius irritably, sitting up completely to take in his companion.
The boy wasn't nerdy, though he teetered on being so. Square glasses framed his eyes, which were wide and hazel, and his frame was long and thin. He had black messy hair, and Sirius thought he looked like he'd just been electrocuted, or dragged through a hedge backwards, or perhaps both. Simultaneously. Whatever he was, he looked to be struggling with his trunk.
"Here," Sirius said, getting to his feet to lift the other end of it. "Let me help you."
Together, in a manoeuvre that no doubt looked as difficult as it was, they succeeded in pushing his trunk onto the rafter, and both dropped onto opposite sides of the compartment. The two boys stared at one another.
"My name's James, by the way," the other boy said, holding out his hand. "James Potter."
Sirius shook it. "Nice to meet you, James. I'm Sirius Orion Black the Third."
James' eyes widened theatrically and he repeated, "The Third? I didn't realise Sirius was such a popular name."
"My family tend to recycle names," he shrugged. "There are only so many stars you can name your child after."
"Really?" James asked incredulously. "Seems like there are a fair few to me."
"Yes, but then you start running out and get onto ones like Camelopardalis which is just ridiculous."
"I don't know, I'd say you look like a Camelopardalis."
Sirius' eyes lit up and he grinned at him. James' face broke into an ear splitting smile. He looked odd when he smiled, Sirius thought, like the very epitome of happiness. It shone as a beacon from his cheeks, starting a spark in his eyes that set his whole being on fire. There was something warm about James.
"Well, Sirius Orion Black the Third," said James. "I think we should be friends. There's only one Sirius Orion Black the Third out there, and I'd be proud to call him my friend."
Sirius felt his chest heat up. He said, "There's only one James Potter out there too."
James smiled at him again, though this smile was softer, more crooked and wonky, like the glasses on his nose. "And we can be friends even if we're not in the same House."
Sirius felt a sliver of unease coil in his gut. It was like he had been punched.
As soon as he'd stepped onto the platform, all of the fears that had accumulated in the blackest pit of his being seemed to wash away. When he'd first read his Hogwarts letter, Sirius had felt something settle in his bones, some quiet sense of pride and thrill, as though the castle offered him the escape that had always eluded him. And then his mother had stroked his hair and crooned that he was going to make a fine addition to Slytherin, and his dreams died in his mind. It felt like everything was resting on this: Hogwarts would decide his life for him, and what terrified him most was how entirely out of his control it felt. Regardless, Sirius needed hope. He slept with the letter tucked into his pillow and every night, he would dream of walking through the iron gates, through the Great Hall, and the weight of the Sorting Hat as the Professor placed it on his head. He woke up before it had the chance to call out his House. He'd stewed with the anxiety of the Black legacy looming over his head for so long but when he saw the Hogwarts Express, he was swallowed by the excitement at the prospect of being carried far, far away. Now those fears coiled tight, clenching his gut.
James continued, "I personally think I'll be in Gryffindor, 'where dwell the brave at heart.' I'm not really brave, but my dad was in that House, and he's scared of everything so I think I've got a good chance at getting in-"
"My family's all been in Slytherin," Sirius interrupted. He waited for James to recoil in disgust, or inform him that every witch and wizard the hat had placed in Slytherin turned out bad. He waited for his first friend to leave; the smoke of distrust clogging his eyes because of the blood that ran through Sirius' veins, the supremacy he had been brainwashed with since he could talk.
James broke off, sentence left hanging in the air. His hazel eyes were wide behind his glasses, but he said, "Blimey! And I thought you seemed alright!"
"Maybe I'll break the tradition," he offered, tampering the hopefulness that sparked inside of him.
"Maybe," said James. "You strike me like the type that could."
Sirius lifted his head to look at him, something between awe and disbelief choking him.
"Besides, you're not really the type of Pureblood elitist Slytherin likes to collect," he added offhandedly, making Sirius' heart warm with just one sentence. "You know, my mum was in Ravenclaw, but she said the hat wanted to put her in Slytherin, and she's much better than my dad. Dad's a bit of a nutter really, but Mum always knows what to do-"
And he started rambling again, though Sirius just let him. There was something comforting about the lull of James' voice, and the way his excitement and passion set the air around them on fire. Sirius felt much better. His heart thumped comfortably in his chest.
Being with James reminded him of his Uncle Alphard, and the warm reverberation of his presence, made all the warmer from his mother's clear disgust. On paper, his mother would love James, what with his pure blood, but he was what she'd call a Blood Traitor... She'd most likely howl in pain at the idea of her precious son mingling with such treacheries.
Sirius smirked at the thought. It seemed like this friendship was destiny, like it was written in the stars. Though he wouldn't dare voice that aloud.
The two boys spoke about everything and by that logic, nothing; they spoke about their hobbies, their favourite books and food, sweets and songs. It turned out that James was a massive Celestina Warbeck fan, which wouldn't pose too much of a problem. The real test of their blossoming friendship came about when it was revealed that James supported Puddlemere United (most likely because Celestina sung their anthem) whilst Sirius favoured The Chudley Cannons ("But they haven't won in centuries!" exclaimed James. "That's the point," replied Sirius. "If your team isn't the best, might as well be the worst. Besides, someone needs to support them!")
Their conversation was interrupted only when the compartment door slid open and two people stood in the corridor.
The girl who was closest had hair of the deepest red, reaching her shoulders, and dark green eyes. Her skin was pale, eyebrows dark and furrowed together concernedly; the dusting of freckles splattered across her cheeks were like constellations. She was already in her Hogwarts uniform.
"I'm really sorry, but can we sit here?" she asked. She had a distinct accent, her sweet voice rich with sprauncy. "The last carriage we were in was too noisy. It was hard to even think."
James stared at her, then at Sirius, who shrugged. Though he didn't particularly want company, he supposed he couldn't well say no, so he bit his tongue to avoid snapping at them and shuffled closer to the window.
The girl's face cleared, shoulders sagging in relief, and she sat beside James. "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Lily."
The smile she sent them was dazzling, and James offered a small one of his own. "James Potter."
Sirius knew they were both staring at him expectantly, though he merely raised an eyebrow. James' eyes widened in warning. He swallowed his protests and said, in a bored voice, "Sirius."
"Like the star?" Lily questioned, green eyes bright with intrigue. "Brightest star in the sky, right?"
He straightened up a tad, and regarded her curiously. "Yes. Exactly."
The two boys shared a glance, though neither one of them said anything else, nor did they have the chance to because Lily said, "Come on, Severus. Sit down. They don't bite."
It was then that they noticed the second person. He, too, was dressed in his uniform, though it did nothing to smudge or lessen the blackness of his demeanour. Lily's friend had long, greasy hair and a hook nose. His skin was pallid and waxy, and he looked more like a figurine than an actual person, though that may have been accountable for his expressionless face. He slunk into the compartment, sitting as far away from Sirius as feasibly possible.
Sirius didn't mind.
When it became clear that the boy was not going to introduce himself, Sirius rolled his eyes, shooting James a look. They continued with their conversation, discussing the Quidditch team James had pledged his undying love for.
"They look like they're wearing mud," Sirius said disdainfully. "Because they're shi-"
"They've won the British and Irish Quidditch League Cup twenty times," interrupted James. "Honestly, Cannons should change their motto from 'We shall conquer!' to 'Let's just cross our fingers and hope for the best!'"
Sirius was about to argue, when he broke off, ears catching on the other conversation currently taking place in their carriage.
The boy, the one with the greasy hair and sullen face, was murmuring in a low voice, and even James was watching him.
"-fine. Don't worry. You'll be in Slytherin, with me, and we'll be friends forever-"
"I'm sorry," said James loudly, and everyone looked at him in surprise. His hazel eyes were wide and incredulous, and he was staring at the boy. "Did you just say she's going to be in Slytherin?"
The boy opened his mouth, then closed it. Lily's cheeks grew pink and she demanded furiously, "Why can't I be in Slytherin? Just because I'm Muggleborn doesn't mean I'm any less magical than you-!"
"Because you're good," said James, as if this explained everything in the world. It didn't, but it shut Lily up. He was still staring at her friend. "You know she's too good for Slytherin. The Hat would never put her there. It wouldn't even consider it."
Sirius didn't point out that James was contradicting everything he had said before about Houses not mattering. The putrid colour 'Severus' was turning was far too amusing. Besides, he figured James had seen something in him that was lacking in Severus Snape. He hoped so, anyway.
The boy seemed to finally find his voice, and he raised an eyebrow at James. His voice was a droning drawl, as though he could scarcely find the effort to waste his breath talking at all, though there was an obvious constriction to his words, like he was spitting out the question. "And what House do you expect to be put in?"
James' chest swelled and he said defiantly, "Gryffindor, of course. After my father."
Severus sneered, lip curling. "Gryffindor? That disgrace of a House? Only the rejects go there- those who aren't ambitious, kind or intelligent enough to go in any of the others."
"Severus," said Lily quietly, looking between the two boys. "Just leave it-"
"Yeah, Snivellus," snarled Sirius, standing up abruptly. "Why don't you listen to your girlfriend?"
Lily's face flushed a bright red, and she glowered at him. She grabbed her friend's arm and hauled him to his feet. "You know, I think we'll go find a different compartment. Noisy is much better than arrogant."
She and Snivellus left with a slam of the door, and the carriage was drenched in silence. James was frowning at the floor.
"I'm not arrogant," he said.
"Of course you're not!" exclaimed Sirius, going to sit next to him. He put a hand on his shoulder. "Believe me, that greaseball is trouble. He reminded me of my parents, and they're not what you'd call nice people… That poor girl doesn't even realise what sort of a world she's stepping into, and he'll be filling her airhead with all sorts of ideas!"
"She won't be in Slytherin," said James, taking notice of nothing else. "She's too good."
"Where will she be?" Sirius asked.
James shrugged. "I dunno." He added glumly, "I just hope she's not in Gryffindor. We haven't even made it to Hogwarts and already, she hates our guts!"
"Oh well," said Sirius, jumping back up, and clapping his friend on the back. "That's what school is for. You make friends, sure, but it's more fun to make enemies."
James scrutinised him. "I think that's the Slytherin in you."
Sirius froze. There was a knock on the compartment door and he spun round, tripping on his robes and flying into the glass. James howled with laughter.
"And there's the Hufflepuff."
Sirius shot him a glare but righted himself and flicked his robe behind him, before he slid open the door-
"Hello. I'm awfully sorry to disturb you, but do you mind if we sit here?"
There were two boys standing in the hallway. The one that had spoken was almost washed out, pale and fading, and flimsy enough that the movement of the train beneath his feet threatened to upheave him. He had shaggy golden hair and amber eyes and a lick of an accent to his words, though he spoke so quietly that Sirius couldn't yet place it. If Sirius had blinked, he would have missed the second boy, cowering behind the first. He was smaller, and dumpy, with watery blue eyes and large ears that protruded from the side of his head and he gave Sirius the impression that he would very much like the earth to swallow him whole, if only it opened wide enough.
James raised his eyebrows. "Are you aware your ears are spotty yellow?"
The smaller boy looked like he might cry. The taller said, matter-of-fact, "Yes. The older boys seem to find it amusing to turn him different colours."
As if on cue, a spell whizzed from somewhere further down the train, ricocheting off the windows. The smaller boy jumped out of his skin. The taller never even flinched.
"Oh," Sirius said. "Now they're purple."
"Come on," said James kindly, coaxing them to sit down. He said, "What are your names?"
"P-Peter," the smaller boy with the purple ears managed to get out. "Peter Pettigrew."
James smiled at him. "Well, Peter Pettigrew, I'm James Potter and this here, is-"
"Sirius Orion Black the Third," finished Sirius, shutting the door and sitting back down.
"He's the first Black to ever be sorted into Gryffindor."
Sirius looked at him, but James didn't even seem to notice. Peter offered him a shaky smile. He reached up to touch his ear, wincing when it smarted a bit. James watched him.
"Do you want me to fix those for you?" he asked. Peter looked at him with wide, eager eyes and nodded fervently.
James retrieved his wand and though Sirius had the utmost faith in his new friend, he still shuffled slightly out of the way. Just in case.
James said, in a clear voice, "Finite Incantatum."
Miraculously, Peter's ears returned to their normal colour and the relief was thick and tangible in the air between them.
"Thank you," he said gratefully, impressed.
"Dad taught me," James explained, but he seemed bashful at the fact. "When I got my wand, the only thing it could do is change things multi-coloured. On accident, I swear! I'd be scratching my nose and the next thing I know, it's bloody pink and six inches long! Mum found it hilarious. She refused to turn it back for a week! Eventually, Dad said he couldn't stand the sight of me looking like a Niffler so he changed it and taught me the counter spell."
"A Niffler?" Peter asked, frowning.
James nodded seriously. "Yeah. Right sneaky things. Dad loved them, wanted one for a pet for ages but when he finally got one, it stole all his money and ran off. Bloody mole. He was just lucky it couldn't get into the safe, otherwise Mum would've killed him!"
Peter laughed, and he squealed a little bit when he gasped for breath, Sirius noticed, like a mouse. The smaller boy seemed relaxed now and he melted into the seat. The taller boy had sat down quietly and watched both James and Peter with a small smile. He was already in his Hogwarts robes, and Sirius saw that, much like the boy who wore them, they were fraying at the edges.
"What's your name?" he asked.
The boy smiled but it was a little strained at the corners. Sirius pretended not to notice. "Remus Lupin."
Sirius smiled courteously, holding out his hand. "Well, Remus Lupin. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Sirius."
"The first Black to be sorted into Gryffindor," said Remus. "Or so I'm told."
There was something so unassuming about him, something that Sirius couldn't put his finger on. He liked this boy. He didn't know why yet, or if his gut feeling was right, but there was something about the way Remus would smile the smallest of smiles, and yet it would still find a way to light up his eyes.
They continued their conversation, laughing so loudly Sirius was convinced they could hear it at the opposite side of the train. It turned out Peter was rather funny in a conventional kind of way, with an inexhaustible store of jokes, though he couldn't say that he would have picked the meek and jumpy boy for a friend under normal circumstances. Remus was quieter. He trembled when it got silent.
The trolley witch was the only thing to break their euphoria, sliding back the door to ask if they wanted anything sweet. Peter looked tempted but he emptied his pockets and all that fell onto the cushion beside him was a squashed cheese sandwich, a spool of wool and a penny. Remus eyed the chocolate but glanced out the window quickly.
James noticed. He dipped into his robes and pulled out a handful of galleons. "Can we have a bit of everything?"
Peter gaped. The trolley witch took James' money and handed the boys their sweets. James immediately handed Remus the bar of chocolate.
"I can pay for this-" began Remus.
James waved a hand and gave him a chocolate frog. "It's my treat to you. All of you. For making the train journey bearable."
Sirius watched as his friend dove into his own chocolate frog, more concerned with the free card so he didn't see his frog jump onto the window and slip away with the wind.
"Oh," James complained. "Flamel! I've got about ten of him!"
Sirius didn't think he realised the impact his wealth had. He threw it away as though it was nothing more than bird seed to be scattered. Walburga would riot if Sirius so much as thought about touching their money for anything of the sort.
The boys carried on, though this time with sugar. James told them about the time he flew his broom all the way over Dorking and the Muggles in the village swore they saw an alien.
Sirius stared out the window. "We need to get into our robes. We'll be arriving soon."
"How do you know?" James demanded sceptically, though he got to his feet and started pulling his trunk down.
Sirius shrugged. "Intuition. Call it a… feeling." He didn't quite know how else to describe it, only that it started in his bones and spread outwards in every direction. "Besides, I've been staring at your ugly mug for hours. I don't think I can take much more!"
The only response he got was one of James' socks to his face, and he stared at the owner in offence before he threw himself at him and the pair of them went down on the compartment floor, rolling over one another, play fighting, and laughing, because they were just kids, and kids were allowed to have fun. Peter laughed at the pair of them. Remus rolled his eyes.
Sure enough, whatever feeling Sirius had, he was right, and the Hogwarts Express rolled into Hogsmeade station with a final toot of the horn within the hour. The four boys, all fully dressed, jumped off the train, lugging their trunks behind them. They dragged them over to the side, out of the way of the older students, who were bustling by.
The greasy boy, Snivellus, still managed to barge into James, sending him flying over his trunk. Sirius scowled at him.
"Is it just me or does he strike you as a major prick pudding?" Remus asked, lips pursed.
Sirius let out a bark of surprised laughter. He didn't think he'd ever hear such vulgar words slip from someone as ordinary and golden as Remus Lupin. James choked on his annoyance.
"You're Welsh, aren't you?" said James. "That's where I've heard that accent before!"
"Half," admitted Remus. "On my mother's side."
Sure enough, Sirius heard the trip of his tongue over certain sounds. There was something charming about it.
"Where do we even go?" Peter questioned, wiping his sleeve along his forehead.
"I'm sure they'll send someone to collect us," said Remus. Sirius glanced at him, and although he seemed calm, Remus was holding his trunk so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He was shaking.
But Peter didn't reply. He was staring just past them, and could only point silently to something behind him. James frowned, following his finger. His eyes widened and they started at his boots, as large as dogs, dragging up to his moleskin jacket, tangled beard until he was craning his neck back to take in the kind and mellowed face of the man stood in front of him.
"You're giant!" he exclaimed in awe.
Hagrid said, "Half, actually."
James' eyebrows pulled together and he cocked his head, but Hagrid didn't give him chance to ask any questions.
He waved the lamp in the air, shouting, "Firs' years! This way, please! Firs' years, over 'ere!"
"Excuse me, sir," said Lily, coming up to stand beside James. She shot him a nasty glare, and he decidedly looked in the other direction.
"Made friends, I see," said Remus. Sirius grimaced.
Lily's face softened with wonder when she switched her attention to Hagrid. "What do we do with our trunks?"
Hagrid looked down at her, and he scratched the back of his neck. "Why, I've- er, never been called sir before," he said, almost embarrassedly. His thick accent clipped his words. "Leave yer trunks! Someone'll worry about 'em. Firs' years, this way!"
When the rest of the school had disappeared, and only a sizable crowd of first years remained, Hagrid said, "My name is Rubeus Hagrid and I am the Keeper o' Keys at Hogwarts. I'll be takin' yer to the school so if you'll follow me."
They all reluctantly abandoned their trunks on the platform, and followed him a little way further down the hill to the banking of a black lake. The crescent moon stared longingly at itself in the surface, and the stars twinkled with each ripple of water. Remus glanced at the water but his eyes skirted way just as quickly. Sirius made sure to stay close to him just in case he fell in.
The first years stopped when they saw what was waiting for them.
"Now, no more than four to a boat, please! And make sure yer stay still," the Groundskeeper said loudly. Then said in his normal voice, "Can't 'ave anyone drowin' already."
"Oh, that fills me with confidence," James said in a high voice. Sirius just grinned at him.
Just as they were about to climb into the little rowing boats, Hagrid added, "Oh, an' keep yer hands an' feet inside the boat at all times. Don't know what blighters lurk in those depths."
James' eyes widened and he gulped. Sirius couldn't hold back his snort of amusement.
"I read there are Merpeople down there," a girl said. She had brown hair and eyes, and tanned skin that suggested she grew up somewhere warmer than England for the English sun could never be so kind.
Hagrid nodded wisely. Lily watched the exchange, and her eyes lit up.
"Merpeople?" she asked. "Like Muggle mermaids?"
"Well, yeh, I suppose," replied Hagrid, scratching at his chin. "If Muggle mermaids rip yer face off if yer get too close."
Lily's eyes widened. Her hope dropped.
The boat ride was somehow smoother, and less traumatic, than what Hagrid had set it up to be. A lantern stretched from the middle of each boat, lighting the way and casting a yellow glow on the water. Lily kept her eyes fixedly ahead of her.
The castle came into view in an instant; one second, there was only the shadow of night, and in the next, Hogwarts towered above them. It was like magic. The many turrets were littered with orange windows, little pinpricks of fire, so tall they looked to pierce the stars. It sat atop sloping lawns, kissed by forest and lake, wearing the sky as a crown. The mountain range enveloped the school, and it really was such a magnificent sight. There was something that rendered you breathless about it, something that invoked a speechlessness so profound you could think only one thing:
Home.
I am home.
The inside was no less grand than its exterior, and the stone walls, lined with torches in rusted brackets, were vast and yet oddly cosy. As they were led through the castle, their eyes tried to take in as much of it as they possibly could, despite knowing they'd get the chance to explore properly later. Everything was ancient and interesting and magical. It all made you feel like you belonged there.
Sirius had not expected it to be like this.
They were stopped by a tall, thin woman, with grey hair tied back in a bun that was tighter than his mother's curls, and face aged with deep lines. There was a knowing glint in her eyes, however, and her Scottish accent left no room for discussion. In all honestly, he barely listened to a word she said, for his eyes could find only portrait and statue and-
Was that a ghost?
And then, suddenly, the wooden doors behind her were opening and they were walking down the middle of the Great Hall, between the tables that were swarmed with students. Sirius noticed his cousins immediately.
There was Narcissa, sitting beside Lucius Malfoy. He had only met Lucius once, at a dinner party, and he knew that they'd been betrothed since the day it was known Cygnus Black was having a daughter and Abraxas Malfoy was having a son. They both had hair of the whitest gold, and their eyes were icy blue. Really, they could've been related. Sirius almost snorted because they probably were. Narcissa was watching him coolly and she raised a blonde eyebrow when he met her gaze.
His eyes found Andromeda next and his heart warmed at the sight of her. She was in her final year at Hogwarts and was the polar opposite of her younger sister. Her hair was light brown, falling midway down her back, and her eyes were dark but kind. She was very pretty but it was a different kind of pretty to Narcissa. Whilst the latter exhibited a sort of untouchable beauty, Andy was the very definition of lovely, with high cheekbones and fair skin but a humbleness too. Though her tie was Slytherin, her ideals were anything but. Sirius admired her with all his heart. She was his favourite.
They stopped at the edge of a dais where, just in front of the teachers' table, there was a three-legged stool with a mouldy hat sat upon it. He wrinkled his nose at the sight of it. For such a prestigious tradition, he thought it would've been better taken care of, maybe washed now and again. Or would washing it remove its magic?
Professor McGonagall retrieved a scroll of parchment, and lifted the hat up. She began to read off names, though none that particularly caught his interest, and one by one, the first years all ascended the stairs, let the teacher put the Sorting Hat on their head and joined the table of the house they had been allocated. As they went down the list, he felt his stomach churn and whirl, and he swallowed thickly, wiping his sweating hands on his trousers and hoping nobody saw.
"Sirius Black."
This was it. Though he knew his name would have to be called eventually, he wished he had a few more minutes. He already knew where the hat was going to put him, and he wanted a few more of James' smiles to drown in, a few more untouched moments of being gold.
Still, he strode to the stool, grin easy but forced on his face (not that anyone could tell). James seemed to see through him. He was watching him with a deceptively straight face, but the colour had all but drained from his cheeks and his eyes were keen and creased with worry.
"Ah," the hat crooned, and Sirius almost jumped. He hadn't expected it to talk. "There's a lot in your head, Mr Black. You're the latest in a very long line to wear me, and I've always had an easy decision with your kind… But you seem hesitant… You know Slytherin is where you ought to be."
"Is it?" he whispered bitterly.
The hat hummed in thought. "You don't agree?"
Sirius kept quiet, not daring to answer, though it was fruitless. The old thing could see inside his head- what was the point of talking? He caught Remus' eye and the boy looked like he was going to be sick, but he still managed to nod his head just once, and Sirius knew he'd be okay.
"I stand by that decision, Mr Black. Slytherin is where you ought to be..." Sirius could feel the stares of the other students like they were burning holes into his skin and he wanted to just get it over with. His heart felt like it might leap from his chest. The disappointment and dread had settled itself deep within him, before the hat said something else, "And yet, it is not where you belong… In that case, better make it… GRYFFINDOR!"
The Great Hall was silent. In that stolen minute, you could hear a pin drop. McGonagall lifted the hat from his head, though Sirius was glued to the stool. She gave him a little nudge, and he swore he saw the hint of a smile. He started walking numbly to the Gryffindor table, who were rendered just as shocked and numb as the rest of the school.
He chanced a glance at Slytherin. Narcissa's eyes were wide, her face looked whiter than usual. A few seats down, Andy was trying to hide a grin, though he could see right through her. Sirius smiled.
James was the first to react. He started clapping. Loudly. Pride shone in the hazel of his eyes, and Sirius grinned at him as he passed. The smile he got back was full of pure awed bewilderment; it was like all they needed was a spark for the Gryffindor table exploded. Peter got caught up in the hysteria, following the crowd. Remus was clapping politely but Sirius saw the smirk.
When Sirius sat down, he had older students shaking his hand and patting him on the back and introducing themselves, though he was deaf to it all. He felt like he was engulfed in a whirlwind, and he didn't care about how his mother would react, though he knew it would be bad, nor what the school would think about the first Black not to be sorted into Slytherin. He was too happy, too euphoric, too free. Still in line, James caught his eye and grinned at him.
All Sirius could do was grin back.
Remus and Peter were both sorted into Gryffindor too. Peter looked as though he was going to pass out and the Professor had to pat his back to send him on his way. Remus was a bit more controlled, but he collapsed onto the bench and Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He convinced himself it was to congratulate him but when the other boy sagged, his arm remained.
"James Potter."
His friend went white as a sheet. Sirius watched him, for some reason wanting nothing more than to clap him on the back and tell him to have faith- if he was as much of a Gryffindor as he claimed, if his heart was as red as it was golden, then destiny would sing its song and the rest would be history. It had already connected the thread to Peter and Remus, but there was a loose end. James seemed to feel this, and he glanced over. Sirius swallowed but nodded. James nodded back. He took a deep breath and walked confidently up to sit on the stool.
If he hadn't known him for little under a day, Sirius wouldn't have seen the worry swimming behind his wonky glasses, but he had and so he did. There was nothing to worry about though, for the hat didn't even brush his hair when it cried, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Their table was definitely the loudest, and it roared as James, grinning in relief, joined them. He winked at Sirius as he sat down next to Peter, and the euphoria came back tenfold. Vaguely, Sirius wondered how many of James Potter's smiles he would drown in. He could feel the buzz from his new friend, charged and electric, reaching out to breach the space between them, and wondered how gold his own heart must be.
It was only when the boy from the train, Snivellus, was called that he tuned back in.
The hat had barely touched the top of his greasy head before it called, "SLYTHERIN!"
The table on the far end of the hall cheered, though there was a definitive unresponsiveness from the rest of the hall. A jovial, walrus-like man sat at the top table clapped cheerfully. James muttered, "Shock," under his breath.
He spied the slight frown sewing his friend's eyebrows together, and the dark eyes that followed Snape all the way to the Slytherin table, and nudged his shoulder.
"Hey," he said. Sirius looked at him and his face cleared. James offered him a small, wonky smile. "You broke tradition. I told you you could."
And Sirius had never felt so sure of anything as he did in that moment, with James Potter looking at him like that, like anything was possible, and Peter Pettigrew laughing and squeaking, and the warmth of Remus Lupin against his body, but he knew his blood was red and his veins were golden and they would be for a long time to come.
oOo
Much later on, the four boys sat in the corner of the Gryffindor Common Room. It was a small space, with everything the colour of crimson and embellishments of gold. The fire was crackling in the grate, casting everyone in a warm, orange glow.
"Honestly, it took ages to sort you," James told him. Peter nodded vehemently. "Was it, you know, saying stuff to you?"
Sirius swallowed. "Yeah."
James leaned forward and whispered, "Like what?"
"It said I ought to be in Slytherin, but I don't belong there," he said. James' eyes widened, and he pushed his glasses further up his nose. Peter gulped.
"I don't think it's ever taken that long," he said. Then, sensing the unease his friend seemed to be feeling, added, "You may be the third Sirius Orion, but you're the first Black ever to be in Gryffindor. That's got to mean something, right?"
Sirius pulled a face, suddenly unconcerned. "Like what?" he demanded, unconvinced.
"Well I dunno!" said James. "Maybe it's destiny."
Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically and started wailing, making a long, irritating sound as he flopped onto the side of the armchair he was sitting on. He neglected to remember that he had thought the same thing mere hours ago.
"What?" James asked.
Sirius didn't reply, merely continued making the noise. He covered his face with his hands.
"What!"
"I can't believe I've made best friends with a ponce! A ponce who believes in destiny! You know, they're the worst-"
James threw a pillow at him.
"For this friendship to work, you have to stop throwing things at me," Sirius said solemnly. James went to throw another pillow but Sirius kicked out his leg to deflect it.
"You alright, Pete?" asked James once he'd given up his assault. "You're a bit quiet."
Peter was frowning deeply. He pulled a face and said, haltingly, "Does Dumbledore's beard really come off at night or does he just magic it on every morning?"
The two boys stared at him.
Sirius clapped James' shoulder, getting to his feet. "Well, James, I'm going to leave this one to you. I have- stuff to do."
James made a noise but Sirius managed to escape into their dormitory, barely keeping his laughter in. The commotion of the Common Room cut off rather abruptly and he was doused instead in the serenity of the darkness. All the curtains were already closed.
Remus appeared from the bathroom. He stopped and offered Sirius a small smile when he noticed him. "I thought I'd better unpack."
Sirius swallowed.
"Do you want some help?" he asked.
Remus looked at him in surprise, moving over to the chest of drawers by the furthest bed on the right, opposite the bathroom. "Oh no," he said. "It's fine, thank you-"
Sirius ignored him. He shouldered off his cloak and threw it onto the next bed over before moving to stand beside Remus. He reached into the other boy's trunk to pull out a pair of socks which he folded in the same way Remus was doing.
Remus just stared at him.
"Well, come on," said Sirius. "I don't want to end up folding all of your manky socks."
Remus scoffed. "They're not manky."
It was yet another one of those surprising expressions that Sirius hadn't expected of him, and even the boy looked startled to hear it. They stared at one another for a second or two, before Remus hastily looked away, hiding his face. Sirius wished he wouldn't.
"I have scars too, you know," he said.
Remus froze, hands pausing in the air. He looked at him, and those very scars were prominent in the starlight. His golden eyes were wide and afraid.
Sirius stopped, looking back at him. He noticed the other boy had freckles too.
He said, "I know a spell that hides them. If you want."
Remus didn't reply, lips parted as though he had been struck silent, and every word lay forgotten on the tip of his tongue. After a moment, he swallowed, shaking himself, and nodded. He licked his lips nervously. "Yes please."
Sirius slid his hand into his pocket, drawing it, and Remus didn't close his eyes, but kept them fixed on him as he said, "Celaverimus."
The smooth skin of his face knitted over the scars, sewing away as though creating a blanket to cover them up with. Neither one of them moved until the breathless whisper of magic faded, and Remus lifted his trembling hands up to touch his face. His eyebrows creased, hope plummeting.
Sirius saw it all happen and was quick to say, "You can still feel them because they're still there. The spell only covers them up. I can't see them anymore."
"Really?" Remus asked.
"Really. Your face is as fresh as a baby's," he replied, trying to crack a smile. "It was the only spell I could do. The healing stuff was too complicated."
Remus did indeed smile, and it was genuine, this time. Though still small, there was a smudge to the expression which Sirius quite liked. "Thank you."
Sirius shrugged. "Don't mention it."
"No," said Remus, frowning. "There must be something I can do to pay you back. I- anything."
He considered this for a moment, before saying simply, "Be my friend."
Remus blinked. "Pardon?"
"Be my friend," said Sirius.
He was still sceptical, evident in his narrowed eyes, but there was something melted about it, as he gauged the sincerity of the request.
"Are you being serious?" he asked.
"Technically, I'm always Sirius."
Remus' eyes widened in horror at the pun, as though he couldn't quite believe Sirius had said it, but Sirius just grinned. Then, a short laugh escaped Remus' lips, and another, until he was laughing properly. It was breathless and high-pitched and completely unguarded. Sirius just watched him. Finally, Remus smiled and nodded. "Okay. I'll be your friend."
They continued to fold socks. After a moment, Sirius said, "Is that why you were so nervous?"
Remus froze. He was imperceptible. But Sirius was good at reading people- he'd gotten good at it over the years with his mother, gauging when she was going to blow and at what point he needed to run. He read his brother like a book. Remus swallowed and Sirius heard it.
"Sorry," he said quickly, starting on the shirts when he ran out of socks. He didn't know why he was still folding. "I just- I was nervous too."
Remus fumbled with his clothes and a shirt slipped onto the floor. He didn't stoop to pick it up. "I'm fucking terrified," he whispered.
"Why?" Sirius whispered back.
Remus looked at him. He was holding back tears, Sirius realised. He shook his head slightly and said, "I just didn't think I'd make any friends."
"Remus," Sirius laughed. "You called a boy a- a prick pudding!" The swear tasted foreign but it also made him giddy. "How could we not like you?"
"I'm glad you have such low expectations," said Remus, but his relief was tangible and his entire face lit up with that light in his golden eyes.
Sirius shook his head. "That's not it. You're just much more extraordinary than you realise."
oOo
When Sirius lay in bed later that night, the darkness seemed to wrap around him like a warm embrace, not a shroud for monsters, lurking in corners. There was a warmth to everything, a sense of purpose to each breath. He could hear Peter snoring over by the bathroom, and in the next bed over, James was a mound of blankets, dead to the world, barely distinguishable unless he squinted. Remus slept more fitfully, occasionally kicking out, and he wondered what he was dreaming about.
This was odd, he thought. Sirius had never felt cushioned like this, protected.
He thought maybe the Sorting Hat had a point. Maybe this was where he belonged. Maybe this was home.
AN: No hate to Hufflepuffs. My sister and best friend are Hufflepuffs and I love to tease them. I've changed this up since I first wrote it because one of my friends (the aforementioned Hufflepuff) told me he always imagined the four boys met on the train and that's why Remus took the train back to Hogwarts as a Professor- because it made him feel closer to his best friends.