A/N: Here it is: the second chapter of Butterflies and Hurricanes! Thank you so much, everyone who's reviewed. I tried to send out a personalized thank-you to each of you, but if I missed you, I'm so sorry. I've gotten such a good response from those who have reviewed—thank you, again! And I'm sorry for not updating on Wednesday, like I said I was going to. I ended up hating what I wrote on the Tuesday before that, so I had to go back and get rid of it all. But I really like what I've added now, and it's actually a lot longer—like four pages—than it had been originally. So think of it as a kind of win-some, lose-some situation.
Thanks so much to WhiteFerrets for Beta-ing :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it.
Butterflies and Hurricanes Chapter Two: Start of a Journey
Remus Lupin:
Mr. Lupin was cold and distant for the rest of Remus' time at home. He and Mrs. Lupin had had a long, rather stressed discussion (which, to Remus' alarm, had resulted in his walking in on his mother crying on more than one occasion) but it seemed that they had agreed to leave off until Remus was at Hogwarts—what would happen after that, Remus didn't want to contemplate. It made his stomach hurt just thinking about it.
But for now, Remus busily prepared for the first day of school. Due to the lack of time between his getting his letter and September first (and a lack of most sufficient funds), most of Remus' things were secondhand, borrowed from friends with older students who had outgrown their first-year things, and a few were even from his parents' times at Hogwarts. One of the only new things he managed to get, however, was his wand. He and his mother took a special trip to Diagon Alley to get it the day before school started. It was eleven-and three-quarters inches, cherry, with a unicorn hair core. It was quite possibly Remus' most prized possession, even more than his Hogwarts letter, which he kept in his pocket at all times—getting increasingly creased as the days went by.
Remus hadn't realized how much he would miss the Lupins' little house. It was a small cottage, with ivy creeping up the sides and a small, rather messy garden in the back, but it was cozy, a safe haven against the world. There was the apple tree in the back that Remus loved to climb on warm summer days, sheltering under the dappled leaves with a book and a couple of apples to munch. There was the shed in the back, as well—that he wouldn't miss so much, but it was still part of his memories of the place.
September first came accompanied with a bright, glowing sunrise, the kind that seems to reserve itself for days when it knows it will give the most comfort. Remus was already up in time to see it; the butterflies in his stomach wouldn't let him sleep past five. He passed the two hours before his parents awoke by packing and re-packing his trunk, making sure every single thing he had was checked off and accounted for. He was forced to eat breakfast by an increasingly anxious Mrs. Lupin, though he was only able to choke down a few mouthfuls of eggs before he stopped, too nervous to eat any more.
"Remus, please eat some more. I don't want you to get hungry on the way there; it's a long train ride."
Mrs. Lupin sighed when Remus shook his head, but nevertheless waved her wand and banished the dirty dishes and pan to the sink.
"Well, we have another hour or so before we should leave. Are you all packed?"
"Yes, Mum."
"Are you sure you got everything you're going to need? Your healing salve and bandages?"
"Yes, Mum, I got it all. And if I run out, Madame Pomfrey will have more."
Mrs. Lupin nodded. They stood there for several more minutes, not knowing quite what to do with themselves. Remus didn't want to say anything, as he could tell his mum was strained, and not just at his going to Hogwarts; his father had not yet come downstairs. Mrs. Lupin's eyes kept darting to the staircase every few seconds, the lines of worry in her forehead becoming deeper with each passing moment that Mr. Lupin did not show.
"Er, Mum?" Remus said, startling her, "Er, sorry. I was just wondering if I could go and… say goodbye, to the house, you know."
"Alright, that's fine. I'm going to go see what's keeping your father…" she trailed off, her expression troubled.
Remus slipped out of the kitchen as Mrs. Lupin started to make her way up the stairs. He walked around the tiny house, trying to commit it all to memory.
He saved the outdoor shed for last. Part of him didn't want to go near it—wanted to run away from it and never see it again, or perhaps smash it into oblivion. But there was another part of him—and maybe it was connected somewhat with the animalistic presence in the back of his mind—that kept drawing him towards the shed.
The shed was small and simple—four wooden walls, a tin roof, one tiny window—but it seemed to loom up, blocking out the sunlight, as Remus approached. He hardly ever went near here in the daytime. Usually, it was only once a month, for his trip to hell.
The door didn't creak when Remus nudged it open, though it was rusty and ill-used. This was thanks to the powerful silencing charm his father had cast over the place—even Remus' footsteps made absolutely no sound. He stared around at the shed's dark, depressing insides, hazy memories of past moons coming back to him as he looked at the numerous bloodstains that littered the floor. There was even a paw print painted in blood on the wall—Remus turned to go as soon as he saw that. It was time to put these things in the past—that was what he said to himself as he shut the door and locked it again. But in the back of his mind, a vicious, muffled presence howled.
o.0.o
James Potter:
Potter Manor gleamed in the morning sun that shone through the freshly washed windows, having just been cleaned by the three cheery house- elves that staffed it. The freshly waxed banisters gleamed enticingly…
"James Potter! You walk down the stairs like a normal person! No! Don't— JAMES!"
A small, raven-haired blur came zooming down the banister, flying off the end and landing on the entryway carpet with a loud thump. His anxious mother hurried forward, just as he sprang to his feet, roaring with laughter.
"James, don't do that again! You could have hurt yourself!"
"Aw, Mum, I'm okay," James said, grinning at her and straightening his oval glasses.
"He's fine, Helen, stop worrying so much! Let the boy have a bit of fun."
Mrs. Potter turned to glare at her husband, who was standing by the front door, watching the whole scene and laughing.
"Charles, you're not helping anything! Honestly, don't encourage him!" She turned with a toss of her coal black hair and went back to brushing off James' shirt. She squinted, examined his face for a second, then licked her thumb and scrubbed at a spot of dirt on his chin.
"Mum! Don't do that!" James cried. "Argh!"
James tried to wiggle out of her grasp, but Mrs. Potter grabbed his chin and forced him to stand still; when she finally freed him, he scowled in annoyance and stomped into the hearth room. One of the house-elves was waiting by the fireplace, clutching a small jar of glittering powder.
"The Floo is ready, Masters and Mistress!" squeaked the elf, bowing low after handing Mr. Potter the jar.
"Thank you, Henny."
Henny beamed and scuttled away. Mrs. Potter reached out to straighten James' shirt and attempted to smooth his hair, though she gave that up quickly.
"We'd best be getting along," said Mr. Potter, holding out the jar. James took a pinch and threw it in the fireplace; green flames sprang to life, crackling merrily. He stepped in, yelled, and with a whoosh, he was gone. Henny reappeared in the parlor, a trunk and owl cage floating after her. Mr. Potter caught them and stepped into the floo, disappearing with a word like his son. Mrs. Potter was the last, smiling her thanks to Henny as she went.
The exit point where the family met again was in a small, dusty room at King's Cross station. The people passing by, Muggles the lot of them, paid the little family no attention as they stepped out into the crowd, making their way towards Platform Nine and Three Quarters. James ran ahead of his parents, weaving in and out of the crowd, and disappeared through the arch way before they could catch up.
James grinned as he burst through the veil between the wizarding and Muggle train stations. The difference was so… well, different, that it was almost shocking. Where the Muggle side of King's Cross was grey and rather dreary, filled with stressed businessmen and tired mothers dragging screaming children, the wizarding side was almost buzzing with energy, the excitement of the new and returning students floating on the air, nearly tangible. Bright colors were everywhere—the robes the parents and some more stuck-up pureblood children (who would never be caught in Muggle clothes) wore, the bright scarlet of the train. Even the steam that wafted over their heads had a faint blue tint to it. Noise was everywhere—students shouting greetings to friends they hadn't seen since the last school year, owls screeching, parents giving last minute instructions. And speaking of parents…
"James Potter!"
James winced and turned slowly around to see his mother standing behind him, arms crossed, an 'I-am-SO-not-amused' glare on her face.
"Er, hi, Mum," he said as his father came through the wall right behind his mum. Mr. Potter was panting, clutching both the trunk and owl to him. James felt a rush of guilt; he'd forgotten that his parents had had to carry his luggage when he'd run off.
"James, just what did you mean by running off and leaving your father and me with your things? I'm of half a mind not to let you on the train at all."
"I'm sorry, Mum! Honestly! I just forgot, is all."
Mrs. Potter snorted; it was a strange thing to hear from the small, motherly, rather domineering woman.
"You forgot. Well, be sure that it doesn't happen again, alright?"
James nodded earnestly. "I promise!"
Mrs. Potter chuckled and shook her head. "Honestly, James, sometimes I just don't know what to do with you."
"Well, getting him on the train would be a good start," said Mr. Potter, coming up behind her, having just placed James' trunk on the train. "They're going to start letting people on in a few minutes."
Mrs. Potter looked suddenly as though she were about to start crying, much to James' alarm.
"Mum, I'll be okay, it's just Hogwarts," he said, when she grabbed him up in a hug so fierce he was sure his ribs would never be the same.
"I know you will," Mrs. Potter sniffed once she had released James. She reached up to wipe a stray tear off of her cheek, and smiled tremulously when Mr. Potter also caught James up in a hug (this one not nearly as fierce as hers).
"Be good, son, alright? Make friends, get good grades, and try not to get up to too much trouble, alright?"
"Yes, Dad. Bye, Mum. I'll write, I promise."
Mrs. Potter could only nod and smile as James broke away and dashed to the train, ran up the steps, and turned for one last grin and wave before he disappeared into the train car.
o.0.o
Sirius Black:
Departures were always odd things in the Black household. Sirius, at least, could never truly feel any remorse for his or their goings, so any proclamations of "Oh, I'm going to miss you so much," or "Come back soon," went promptly out the window. Combine this with the fact that the outright showing of any 'weak' emotion (basically, any emotion besides disdain or cruelty) was severely frowned upon, and you get some very strange good-byes.
The only person that Sirius felt even the slightest bit of remorse for leaving behind was Regulus. He really was a pretty good brother, if a bit naive. One couldn't really blame him, though; after all, he was only nine years old, and lacked some of Sirius' stronger, more rebellious qualities. Sirius could only hope that what strong qualities Reg had were enough to get him through a year of being alone in that godforsaken house and end up relatively unscathed.
Currently they stood on the platform, in as isolated a spot as they could find with all the people milling about – "Riffraff and Muggle scum," his mother had sneered—and were having a last minute good-bye before he got on the train. Reg was staring up at him, his dark eyes sad and resigned.
"Don't forget me, Siri, okay? You promise?"
A wave of regret rose up in Sirius before he could stop it. A thought of maybe I don't have to go… flashed through his mind for an instant, before he shook it off.
"Of course I won't forget you, Reg. I'm going to write you every week, don't worry."
An impatient, disdainful sound had him looking up and glaring at his cousin Narcissa, who stood a few feet away next to her dark green-colored trunk, her eyes—haughty, proud, everything a Black should be—stating clearly what she thought of their discussion. She had never liked Sirius, though it was no skin off of his back, to be sure. He supposed her dislike had something to do with the time when he was five, and she eleven, and he had somehow managed to tangle a giant bullfrog into her hair so thoroughly that his Uncle Cygnus had been forced to cut most of it off. But as much as he hated Cissy, she had nothing on Bellatrix. Bella just scared him, plain and simple—she was the absolute epitome of what it meant to be a Black, and crazy, to boot. Of course, the craziness probably came from years of inbreeding, but it seemed to make her cruelty even more focused, not less. He'd even seen her once, at a family reunion, practicing her Cruciatus on mice she'd found in the cellar.
"Siri?"
Sirius jumped and realized that Regulus had been saying something to him.
"Sorry, Reg, what?"
"I said, will you write to me after the Sorting to tell me what house you get into?"
"Of course I-"
"Don't be ridiculous."
Sirius bit back a groan and looked up, into the tight-lipped, cold-eyed face of his mother. Walburga had never been one for warmth and affection, evident in the way she gripped her eldest son by the shoulder—Sirius' mind was filled with thoughts of vultures and talons- and looked directly into his eyes as she spoke her next words.
"Of course Sirius will be in Slytherin, and uphold the Black Family name. Because if he is not, and brings shame upon our household, he will be a disappointment. And he knows exactly what happens to those Blacks who are disappointments."
Her nails—talons—bit harder into his shoulder and he tried not to wince. He remembered earlier in the summer when his mother, the first flames of insanity lighting her eyes, had blasted his wonderful Cousin Andie off the family tapestry, and for no worse crime than marrying a Muggleborn. Sirius supposed that, with his upbringing, he should be as shocked and angry as the rest of them had been, but he just couldn't find it in himself to be angry. He'd even sent a letter to Andie in secret, congratulating her.
The train's piercing whistle sounded, and as if on cue all the doors on the train flew open to begin admitting students.
"Remember, Sirius, that while you at Hogwarts you are to conduct yourself in a manner befitting the Heir of the House of Black. If we find that you have been acting in ways that reflect poorly on your house and your family, there will be severe consequences. Do you understand?"
Sirius had to resist the urge to gulp in fear. Instead he nodded and said in as normal a voice as possible, "Yes, Mum."
"Good."
She retracted her claws from his shoulder and straightened, the 'Haughty-Black-Matriarch' look back on her face.
"Bye, Siri. You're gonna come home for Christmas, right?"
"Yeah, Reg, I will. I'll miss you, though."
Reg smiled slightly and the boys hugged swiftly, awkwardly, unable to say or do anything else under the stern glares of their mother, aunt, and cousin. Narcissa swept past, her nose high in the air, and stepped gracefully onto the train. Sirius followed suit, sparing Reg one last grin before he started down the aisle between compartments. There was no way he was sitting with Cissy or any of the other pure-blood stuck-ups he'd been forced to socialize with before. No, he was choosing his own friends, for now at least (until he got to Hogwarts and the Sorting Hat ruined all that).
Most of the compartments were already full, or were occupied by older students who turned their noses up at the prospect of sitting with a first year, so it took Sirius ages until he finally found a compartment that had just one other boy sitting in it—and he was a first year too, judging by the looks of him. He was thin, with wild hair and crooked glasses that gave him the look of a windswept owl. He was absorbed in something, a book of some sort, and jumped when Sirius rapped on the compartment door.
"Can I sit with you?" Sirius called through the glass. "Everywhere else is full."
"Sure," was the reply, and Sirius gratefully slid the door open and tugged his trunk in from behind him. With the other boy's help he managed to swing it up into the luggage rack, being careful not to squash the owl cage that was already there.
"Thanks," Sirius said as he sat down across from the other boy. "I didn't want to have to sit with my cousin and her awful friends. By the way, what's your name?"
"I'm James," said the other, flicking a stray piece of raven-colored hair away from his eyes as he spoke. "James Potter."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Sirius Black."
James frowned slightly, as if remembering something rather unpleasant.
"Black? But aren't you all supposed to be, like, Muggle-haters?"
Sirius scowled, which somehow seemed to reassure James.
"I'm nothing like my family. They're all a bunch of blood-obsessed morons."
James grinned.
o.0.o
A/N: So, this chapter's actually longer than I thought it would be, but it's still not quite done. However, I'm going to put the remainder of it with the next chapter (the sorting!), as a kind of apology, and so that you can get this faster. That okay with you guys? :)
Oh, and I'm not going to beg for reviews. That said, if you would like to review, I only ask that you take the time to tell me what you liked and what you didn't like, and what you think I should change. And if you have any, I could really use suggestions for pranks to use. I've got seven Marauder-filled years ahead; I need as much prank material as I can get. Thanks!