November 18th, 1976: Sirius Black
Sometimes, Sirius thinks he might have been better off in Hufflepuff. He knows that he doesn't belong there, per se: Lockhart and Cattermole's lot are far from his ideal roommates, and he doesn't know if he could stand to deal with Veronica Smethley's catty theatrics full-time. If there's one thing Sirius can't help but do, it's to make a statement, and to him, Hufflepuff just isn't bold enough for that.
Despite this, though, the theory seems so appealing at times. Gudgeon's a dimwit, but he's a loyal dimwit, isn't he? Maybe Sirius couldn't love them, but he could at least trust them, and considering that Moony still isn't talking about the last full moon… Sirius feels that he could use a little more faith in his allegiances right about now. Sirius may not be thick, but he knows he's not clever enough to doubt the right people. If Sirius were in Hufflepuff, his family wouldn't loathe him. If Sirius were in Hufflepuff, he'd have mates who didn't have anything to hide from him.
Sirius isn't thick enough to think it a veritable possibility, to succeed in Hufflepuff. He's the breakout rebel, the Black Gryffindor, the walking paradox, the match for James Potter and Marlene McKinnon; he's no Hufflepuff, and he knows it.
But he puts a hell of a lot of faith in people for a Gryffindor.
"A word, Sirius?" says Andromeda at the end of Defense Against the Dark Arts. He's halfway to the door, but reluctantly stops, returns, and tosses his bag onto the nearest desk. Prongs raises an eyebrow, but Andromeda adds, "Go on ahead, James; we'll only be a minute."
Warily, he leaves Prongs behind and approaches his cousin, maybe a little defensive from the outset. When the door finally snaps shut, he lowers his eyes and waits for the lecture to come.
Andromeda doesn't disappoint. "Saw you play against Slytherin last weekend," she says with borderline casualness, crossing her arms. "Must feel good to have been so instrumental in that win, mustn't it? To have landed your brother in the Hospital Wing after that Bludger he took?"
"It's a Quidditch game, not a duel to the death, Professor," says Sirius, finally meeting her eyes. (Their particular shade of brown isn't soft enough to keep out the ice after his response.) "I wanted to win the game."
"You wanted to punish Regulus," Andromeda counters.
He explodes, "Not everything I do is about this goddamned family, and it's about time you believed that!"
She wavers for a second, just looking at him with her mouth half-open. "Sirius, the only reason I took this job was to look out for you. I think I've held you back after class enough times that you've figured that out by now. After you ran away last summer…" she says finally, heaving a sigh.
With a rush of something like resentment mixed with guilt, Sirius says halfheartedly, "I can fend for myself, Andy; I don't need a babysitter. Just because I left home—"
"—I know about Marlene McKinnon," says Andromeda, silencing him instantly. "The Sirius I know doesn't treat anybody like that."
"You don't know what you're talking about," says Sirius, fuming. She doesn't understand: Marlene isn't the issue. Marlene is his safety net and the thorn in his side, Marlene is collateral damage, Marlene is the one person in his life he knows won't run away no matter how horrible he is, and he knows he's been pretty horrible, but Prongs has Lily and Wormtail has Emmeline (Emmeline!) and Moony—well, frankly, Sirius doesn't know what the hell Moony is doing, but he doesn't trust it, he doesn't trust him, and Andromeda doesn't know shit about what that's like.
He doesn't bother hearing her out, even though he's been alone with her for less than a minute. "Leave me the hell alone," he says, and her protests fall on deaf ears as he picks up his bag and jogs out of the classroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
(Sirius puts a hell of a lot of faith in people for a Gryffindor. And when that trust is broken…)
Sirius isn't much of a brooder; when life gives him lemons, he's not exactly going to accomplish a whole lot by glaring at them, is he? Maybe he's dysfunctional, maybe he's rash, but if he jumps into something and gets it wrong, well, at least he can say he made the effort. Everybody ought to be a little rasher in life, Sirius thinks; but enough thinking.
Yeah, it's unwise, but he never claimed to be the brightest bulb in the box. Sirius is impulsive; surely his history with Marlene and Emmeline and all the others is testament to that. In fact, Marlene's usually the one he goes to at moments like this, but carrying out all those bad ideas with her is starting to catch up to him, it seems, and he honestly doesn't have the patience to remind himself of all that baggage right about now.
So he doesn't go to Marlene. He goes to Belby.
He's surprisingly difficult to track down, even with the help of the Map, as he seems to be splitting all his time between the Slytherin common room and conspicuous public places. It isn't until Friday night that Belby finally retreats to the library—alone.
Sirius seizes his chance and hardly gives Belby five minutes to settle in before he's down there, panting, seething. He's got seventeen years of rarely released anger to unleash, and anyone who messes with Moony evidently needs to be taught a lesson.
"I'm sorry, Black, was there something you needed?" says Belby coolly, running a finger past titles on the shelf and not once raising his eyes.
Snarling, Sirius lunges for him, knocking his wand out of his hand and pinning him against the bookshelf. Belby can try to smooth-talk his way through whatever he wants, but when he's facing off a Quidditch champion in a show of physical prowess, he's bound to fall short. He chokes and splutters, mostly dramatically, as Sirius tightens his grip on his neck. "Shut up, for god's sake," Sirius spits, and Belby quiets, face purpling and eyes bugging out, but breathing. "Now tell me what the hell you did to Remus."
Belby says nothing. "Answer me!" Sirius says, a roar and a whisper all at once.
All Belby can do is cough. Sirius slackens his grip but lodges his wand between Belby's chin and Adam's apple, just to make his threat clear, and sneers, "Not so suave when you're in real danger, are you, Belby?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Belby wheezes, backing as far into the bookshelf and away from Sirius as is possible.
"Don't lie to me!" demands Sirius, jabbing his wand into Belby's throat for emphasis. "Whatever you're up to has got him so damn jumpy that he's lying to his mates and sneaking around, and it's your goddamn fault he ended up in the Hospital Wing covered in bruises breaks this week, I know it! You may be a fearful pansy ass, but if you honestly think you can get off with pushing around one of my mates-"
Belby says frantically, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, "I didn't do anything to him, I swear to god! Dammit, I'm helping him! Let go of me!"
It's all Sirius can do to keep from Cruciating his sorry arse to the grave. Unsteadily, he breathes. "Didn't look like you'd been helping him when he wound up lying half-dead in a hospital bed a fortnight ago," he says.
"He would have been all-dead if I hadn't been there before Pomfrey came to collect him," says Belby hastily. "I'm not trying to get him killed; it's just more difficult than I thought it would be—you aren't supposed to know, no one can know—"
Sirius is so shocked that he forgets he's supposed to be threatening the bloke. His hands drop to his sides, and he hisses, "You know about—about—goddamn it, I'm going to murder Snivellus!"
"Snape knows?" says Belby, though he looks considerably less shaken now that he's gathered his wand off the floor. "He didn't… I figured it out myself; I'm not thick, you know."
"Could have fooled me," says Sirius, not even bothering to think through whether the insult is honest or not. "Save yourself the trouble and don't screw around with Remus anymore, Belby. Whatever the hell you think is helping him isn't."
Belby doesn't reply at first, massaging his neck and training his eyes to the floor. After a heated silence, he raises his gaze to Sirius and says calmly, "You'd make a wonderful Death Eater, you know. Just the right mix of intimidation and ignorant loyalty."
His insolence, above all, is what sets Sirius over the edge. "Conjunctivitio!" he bellows, smirking for just a moment as Belby's hands fly to his eyes before adding for good measure, "Petrificus Totalus!"
He leaves Belby there, eyes burning and unable to do a thing to alleviate the pain. If Pince doesn't kill him, Dumbledore will, but Sirius is beyond caring. No filthy bastard is going to eff with Moony, even if Moony himself is too thick to appreciate it.
Maybe growing up toujours pur has permanently scarred him; maybe he just plain doesn't have a conscience, but Sirius feels no remorse. Sirius doesn't feel anything, save perhaps a sort of distant appreciation of his apathy, now that he's blown off steam. Belby never turns him in, probably out of terror—good riddance, Sirius figures with some satisfaction—and the week progresses as normal, or as normally as it can these days, anyway.
He comes of age. It reminds him of the relatives that aren't his family and the house that's not his home, and he doesn't like to talk about it, and the Marauders know better after this many years than to celebrate it, so his birthday passes largely unnoticed.
Quidditch is the following Saturday, Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw. They made plans weeks ago to all go together, the Gryffindor sixth years and he, but it falls apart at the last minute, spiraling after Lily backs out. Prongs and Marlene aren't happy, but as she puts it, "This weekend is my last class with Brinn for my internshp before the International Confederation of Wizards meeting coming up two weeks from the game. You think I'm going to pass that up for a Quidditch game that none of my mates are even playing in?"
From there, Mary and Alice decide it's all right for them to skip the game for their own internships, too. Emmeline denies ever having been interested in the first place but, to everyone's surprise, agrees when Wormtail asks if she'll go to it with him, "just as a chance for us to finally figure all of this out," of course.
In the end, the only ones going are himself, Moony, Prongs, and Marlene. Sirius is none too happy, but he keeps his emotions in check and his mind on the game.
"Kicking off the game here, Kirley McCormack from Hufflepuff takes possession of the Quaffle, to no one's surprise—Hufflepuff Captain Elisabeth Clearwater has put her efforts into building a strong Chasing/Keeping front for the season. With all four house team's Seekers being especially talented this year, her strategy is to cancel out the unpredictability of Seeking outcomes by scoring as many goals as possible before the Snitch is caught, the net effect of which Hufflepuff hopes will win them the Quidditch Cup in the spring." After her dissatisfaction with the commentary on the game last fortnight, McGonagall's replaced Mike McKinnon with a pudgy-looking girl that Sirius doesn't know, though judging by her narrative style, she's probably a Ravenclaw.
Moony seems to have gotten the same impression. "She's a good commentator," he remarks as Hufflepuff scores its first goal. "It'll be interesting to hear all the back-story on strategies and everything, don't you think? Gives you a feel for the context of the game. She's smart to approach it like that… in Ravenclaw, probably."
"And it'll help us prepare for our match against Hufflepuff in February," muses Prongs. Sirius tears his eyes away from the action to glance at him. He's narrowing his eyes like he does when he's been struck for a prank idea. "If Liz has been focusing on her Chasers, I almost wonder if we should pull Fabian out and make Meghan our Keeper for the game…"
Frowning, Marlene says, "The Prewett twins have been on the Gryffindor team since they were third years; you really think that replacing Fabian with an inexperienced fifth year Seeker is going to improve our chances against Hufflepuff's strongest Chasing front in years?"
"It'll be risky," Prongs admits, "but think about it. Meg's always wanted to play Keeper; she's been practicing at it for years at home by playing Kirley. On the one hand, Kirley will know all her techniques, but if he doesn't know that we've switched her position until game day, it might throw him off… and she'll know how he plays, so won't that give her an advantage in blocking his goals? And she can get us familiar with how the Hufflepuffs play beforehand so we'll know what to expect from them during the match, whereas they'll be practicing to beat Fabian's Keeping style and won't be prepared for Meg when they learn about the switch," he explains, keeping his voice low in the hope that no one overhears.
Unconvinced, Marlene presses, "You'll have to be so careful not to let the word spread before the game, if you're going for the element of surprise… and besides, even if putting Meg on as Keeper does help us win more goals than the Hufflepuffs, it still means losing our Seeker and giving Benjy a much better shot at catching the Snitch. Meg's never lost a game yet as Seeker, and even if you did pull it off by replacing her against Slytherin this month…"
They're silent for a minute now. It's a dreary day for a game, all muggy and overcast and unusually hot for November. Humidity stifles him; sweat bubbling across his skin dizzies him, and every couple of seconds, he reaches to swipe the wetness out of his eyes and off his temples, struggling to breathe clearly.
Sirius mulls it over while watching the game, listening to the in-depth commentary: "And a Bludger from Ravenclaw prevents Jones once again from shooting! Ravenclaw's strength this year is in its Beaters: Bernhardt has experience, Flynn raw talent, whereas Hufflepuff's Beaters are both new to the team this year and seem to be having a hard time finding their footing. This is the third time that Bludgers have kept Hufflepuff out of the scoring area, and out of the four attempted goals Hufflepuff has made, Shacklebolt's blocked half—not bad against this team of Chasers. Even if Ravenclaw's Chasers will struggle to score, the supporting players are stopping Hufflepuff from gaining the early advantage they'd been hoping for."
"That's it," murmurs Sirius suddenly, realizing. "That's it," he says again, louder, to his fellow Gryffindors. "It's all about the long-term strategy, isn't it? Dorcas Meadowes is good—if anybody has a real shot at blocking most of Hufflepuff's attempted goals, it's her, and you have to admit, my brother's a good enough Seeker that he'll be able to catch the Snitch with the Carrows' help. Hufflepuff is a strong team, might even be the strongest team at Hogwarts this year, but they're not infallible. Ravenclaw's holding their own against them, Slytherin can hold their own against them—Prongs is right. Fabian's good, but Hufflepuff, sorry to say, is probably better; if we're going to stop their Chasers, Meg is the person to do it. She'll throw them off."
"And the Snitch?" prompts Marlene, crossing her arms.
Sirius says shortly, "I'll see to it myself that Benjy Fenwick gets nowhere near the Snitch this February. Bring it up to Gid at next practice, James; I'll back you up."
"I don't like it. Using deception as your strategy… it feels dishonest," Moony says softly.
The crowd roars; Hufflepuff's scored again, bringing the game total up to thirty to nothing. "We're well within our rights to keep our tactics a secret," defends Prongs.
"It's not deception; it's thrill tactics. You can't rely on schemes like that if you're serious about winning," says Marlene, still suspicious.
"There's nothing wrong with a little risk," breathes Sirius. "Nothing wrong with a little deceit."
Grinning, Prongs says, "You're up to something, Sirius."
He keeps his eyes fixed on the pitch, unsmiling because Prongs doesn't understand. "Just thinking of a little talk I had with Belby last week. It's nothing. I've already taken care of it," he says in clipped tones.
Sirius doesn't look, but he doesn't have to. He knows Moony; he knows that his friend's bound to turn pale. "Belby?" Moony asks, voice wavering. "Why would you want to do something to—to Belby?"
This is it, Sirius thinks, composing himself. Hufflepuff scores a fourth goal. When he knows he can keep his face straight, he turns to Moony and says calmly, "Only because I know he did something to you."
No one knows quite what to say to that, so Sirius goes on, "Sneaking around, keeping secrets… it's not like you, Remus, and don't think that none of us have noticed how afraid of him you are lately."
"So you went to teach him a lesson?" says Moony, his voice unnaturally high-pitched. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I've put him in his place, that's what I've done," says Sirius gruffly.
"No, you haven't. Dammit, Sirius, you…" Moony is breathing heavily, closing his eyes, visibly upset. "He's enough of an arse that you probably haven't stopped him, but from now on, Sirius, stay out of it. It isn't what it looks like."
Sirius snorts, "Oh, so he's not trying to kill you and land you in the Hospital Wing?"
"He's trying to keep me out of the Hospital Wing from now on. If what he's doing works…"
Taken aback, Sirius and Prongs exchange a glance. Out of the Hospital Wing? He can't possibly mean that…
"Does one of you want to explain to me what the hell you're on about?"
Marlene. Of course. "Back off, McKinnon, this isn't your problem," dismisses Sirius.
"The hell it isn't my problem, Black. Don't expect me to stay quiet and play the part of your ignorant bitch; if Lupe is in trouble, I have the right to know about it, especially when you don't seem to have a shred of patience and insist on flaunting your knowledge about it right under my nose!" she snaps, turning redder and redder as she speaks.
Sirius moves to fight her, but before he can get a word out, Moony says quietly, "I'm sick, Marlene. I've been sick for a very long time, and Belby's trying to—to cure me."
"It's incurable, Remus," says Prongs as gently as he can. "Belby may be arrogant enough to think otherwise, but—"
"You don't know that!" Moony explodes. "I've been dealing with this for half my life; it's worth a shot, isn't it? Maybe it's curable if people would stop treating it like it… like it's not worth curing, all right? He spent months developing the potion, and I tried it one time, and it didn't work, but of course it didn't work, these things take time, there's a whole process, and I've seen the recipes, he's not faking me out. I know he's an arrogant arse, but he's not going to kill me, so can you all just back off and let me try and get better?"
He's pushing his way away from them now, bowing his head with embarrassment and shoving his way past the crowd. "Where are you going?" Prongs calls after him, half impatient, half concerned.
"Crashing Em and Peter's date," Moony yells back, whipping his head around to glare.
"Don't let them hear you calling it that—" Prongs tries to warn him, but Moony worms his way past a clique of fifth years and is gone.
Ravenclaw wins, a hundred and sixty to ninety. Hufflepuff seemed bound to win it for sure, demolishing the opposition at the goalposts, but Dirk Cresswell edged out Benjy Fenwick for the Snitch, and that was that. On the one hand, the strongest team of the year lost its first game, giving Gryffindor an advantage and making Prongs's plan to switch Meghan McCormack's position that much more likely; on the other, it just goes to show that Sirius ought never to count on anything anymore.
He catches up with Mary after that (because Prongs is love-struck and Alice wouldn't understand and Lily doesn't know him and everyone else is part of the problem), tracking her down after dinner and taking her for a walk across the grounds. It's still too hot and humid, but he loosens his robes and brushes his hair off the back of his neck and tries not to mind, and Sirius wants to tell her, tell somebody, that his family broke him and Marlene weakens him and Emmeline is an old sore reopened, but he can't find the words, and Mary is staring at him with impatient mouth agape, so he just shakes his head and says, "You're smart for spending so much time with the Hufflepuffs."
She clearly doesn't know what to say to that. "And why's that, exactly?" she prompts, shifting from foot to foot.
"Less drama," he answers.
When Mary bursts out laughing, he realizes how absurd it sounds. "Less drama? Like, have you met Veronica Smethley before?"
"Yeah, but it's petty drama; it doesn't count for anything, doesn't affect anything," Sirius explains, backtracking. "When you spend a lot of time with Smethley, you just hear about other people's dramas. Spend too much time with your own housemates…"
"Did something happen with Marlene?" asks Mary with concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"
He doesn't say anything. Then, finally, "Not with Marlene; not specifically, anyway. Just…" He thinks back to the Quidditch game, how Moony doesn't trust his judgment, how he cut Marlene down and then Moony left and she looked at him and it…
"There's hundreds of wizards in this school, thirty-three sixth years, eight other Gryffindors in our year, and most of the time, I still feel totally alone," says Mary. She doesn't meet his eyes.
Cattermole, Sirius recalls. "I'd tell you to give it another shot with him if he makes you happy, but I'm not really in a position to talk," he says with a little self-deprecating snicker.
"Does Marlene make you happy?" Mary asks, her eyebrows furrowed and voice solemn.
He sighs and throws back his head for a moment, the air falling heavily on him, the enormity of his mistakes sinking in. "I dunno. Not anymore… not really. Not like that. It's just easier, sometimes, to go to her than it is to deal with all the rest of it."
"Then you need to end it," she advises, giving him a sympathetic smile.
Sirius refutes, "No need; it's already over."
"Not properly it isn't. You need to end it for real, with, like, actual closure this time. The two of you can't keep doing this, Sirius," says Mary. He flicks his hair out of his eyes and doesn't say anything; she gives his hand a supportive squeeze.
Abruptly, Mary plants herself in front of him and stops walking, nearly causing him to run into her. "It would be a terrible idea for me to ask you out right now, wouldn't it?" she asks, looking mostly amused but a little hopeful, too.
And he hates himself for seriously considering it, even if only for a moment, before he turns her down. "Yeah," he mutters, "yeah, it would," and as he leans in to kiss her on the forehead, he holds himself over her, just for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of her hair.
Screw Hufflepuff. Screw all of it. Sirius is done with faith.