Chapter Text
What’s Past Is Prologue.
The Tempest by William Shakespeare. Act II Scene 1.
Sirius Black tightened his Gryffindor tie with a perverse sense of joy. Each year as he prepared for Hogwarts, he felt wrong in the best way donning the gold and scarlet here in his bedroom in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. His freshly pressed school robes stood out in his closet full of green, silver, and black silks. He eased his shoulders into the robes and looked at himself in the antique mirror on his wall.
Well, that’s more like it, He thought to himself. He’d grown over the summer again, and so had his hair. It was well past his shoulders now, and the potion his best friend James had recommended had made it healthy and thick, falling in loose, shiny waves.
The irony of James Potter recommending hair potion made him smile. Sure, James’ family may have made their fortune on hair products, but James’ own messy crop of dark hair eternally stood on end, even if it had been days since the boy had been on the quidditch pitch. Of course, James hardly ever spent more than twelve or so hours between rides on his broomstick, a sleek new Comet 35.
Sirius tucked his hair behind his ears and loosened the tie to that just-cool-enough-but-not-trying-too-hard level. He withdrew his wand out of the special pocket all school robes had. It felt so good to hold it again after a summer without magic. He could feel it gently vibrating with magical energy, and it was almost like an old friend had been returned to him. His hand tingled slightly.
He knew a lot of the pureblood families let their kids use magic over the summer, but his father had locked up Sirius’ wand as punishment earlier that month.
‘Alright, Sirius?’
Sirius’ little brother Regulus appeared in his bedroom door, dressed neatly in his Slytherin robes. It made Sirius a little sad every time he saw that embroidered green snake emblem sitting so comfortably over Regulus’ heart, a visible sign of all the effort Regulus put in to do things the right way--- the Black way.
They’d had a decent summer that year, their differences notwithstanding. Their mother Walburga had gone to France to visit some elderly relatives, so things had been quieter at home. Orion, their father, was too busy in his study managing Black family affairs to pay much attention to the boys other than occasionally snapping at Sirius for playing pranks on Kreacher or blasting Muggle music too loudly in his room.
The relative quiet had been good for the Black brothers’ relationship. Boredom had led to many afternoons spent in friendly, quiet reading together in the library, or playing exploding snap in the kitchen. It had almost felt like old times before Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor and befriended blood traitor James Potter. Before Regulus had built his little gang of Slytherin cronies, Snivellus and that whiny Peter Pettigrew.
But now, as they stood in their uniforms, Sirius could almost feel the divide between them growing again like the dormitory walls and house tables that would soon literally separate them.
Regulus’ solemn blue eyes met Sirius’. ‘Your tie’s crooked.’
Sirius rolled his eyes. ‘It’s on purpose, Reggie. Try to imagine being cool for one moment.’
Regulus bristled at the nickname, which Sirius knew he hated. ‘Fine, look like an idiot, I don’t care. Let’s go, Mum’s waiting.’
‘Right, wouldn’t want to upset Mummy, now would we, little one?’ Sirius teased but followed his brother down the stairs towards another year at Hogwarts.
‘Mum!’ James Potter shouted, panicked, rifling through his chest of drawers. He was already surrounded by a growing pile of his things. There were Quidditch magazines with match statistics circled in red ink, chocolate frog wrappers, the little stuffed Snitch he’d had since he was a baby, and various books and pieces of parchment stacked precariously around the boy. All this unearthing had not revealed what he was looking for.
‘Muuuuum!’ He shouted again, more desperately.
‘James Fleamont Potter, my only son, the light of my life, you’re going to burst my eardrums. I’m right here, no need to shout.’ Euphemia Potter was in his doorway, beaming at the chaos. Immediately, James felt a little better. She had that effect on people.
‘Sorry. I’m looking for my history of magic textbook. I thought it was here, but---’
‘I took all your books downstairs already, love.’
James stopped frantically searching.
‘Oh. Thanks.’ He looked around at the mess he’d made, embarrassed. He didn’t want his parents to have to clean it up.
‘Try that advanced cleaning spell we were working on yesterday!’ Euphemia encouraged.
James pointed his wand at the mess and said, ‘Emundare cubiculum! ” The items on the floor vibrated slightly, then rose and put themselves back in their correct places.
‘Nice one, James!’ His dad said, stopping to watch. ‘I can see why you’re first in Charms.’
James smiled. ‘Only barely. Sirius got one point less on the exam last year.’
Euphemia shook her head. ‘You and Sirius and your competitions.’
‘You’d better watch out for that Black boy though.’ Fleamont winked. ‘We Gryffindors have a way of winning in the end!’
James rolled his eyes. He knew his parents were proud of him regardless of his house placement, but his father never missed an opportunity to tease him about being sorted into Hufflepuff.
‘Hush, Monty.’ Euphemia admonished, ‘You know when we were at Hogwarts you were never first in anything but detentions.’
‘I’m trying to live up to that legacy, too, Dad!’ James smirked.
When James finished packing, his parents magicked the trunk downstairs and the whole family felt a bit of sadness in the air. James loved Hogwarts, and he knew his parents were proud to send him, but they still missed him terribly when he was gone. He missed them, too, despite their frequent letters.
‘You ready?’ His mother asked.
‘Yeah.’ James said. ‘Bye, Dad!’
‘Give the other teams hell this year,’ Fleamont said. ‘Go badgers!’
James gave him a warm hug and reached out to hold onto his mother’s arm as she side-along-apparated with him. They appeared in the bustling station, already on platform nine and three-quarters. James hugged Euphemia again and then ran off to find Sirius on the train. He was dying to tell him about his father’s magic cloak he had hidden in his trunk.
To his horror, Peter Pettigrew had a bright pink lipstick stain on his cheek from where his mother had kissed him.
‘Okay, enough, Mum!’ He squirmed as she wrapped him in yet another hug. Other children on the platform were looking at them, smiling.
‘I love you Petey! Have a good year!’ His mother said, finally releasing him.
Fervently wiping his cheek, Peter rolled his trunk down the platform and deposited it near the luggage car. Why can’t my mum be cool? He thought, like Regulus’ mum?
Regulus’ parents were so elegant and refined. They always looked like they were overdressed everywhere they went, and when they spoke to their kids it was all very posh and grown-up, like they were business associates instead of a family. Not like Peter’s mum, who liked loud floral patterns and wore her hair in a ridiculous curly mop on top of her head, and still treated Peter like a baby even though he was fourteen years old.
As he got on the train, Peter smoothed down his blonde hair and shoved his hands in his pockets. He’d had to get up early that morning to pack, and resented the loss of sleep. As he walked down the length of the Hogwarts Express, he heard loud laughter coming from a compartment to his right. Glancing in, he saw Regulus’ brother, Sirius, with that Potter boy.
Not for the first time, he thought about how different the two Black boys were. Ironically enough, Regulus was the serious one. He could be bitingly funny, of course, when he was around friends, but he was quiet and careful about presenting himself as a model student whenever teachers or students he didn’t know were nearby.
Sirius, on the other hand, seemed determined to be as noncompliant as any student had ever been at Hogwarts. He was loud, bawdy, and occasionally dangerous. Peter had been annoyed by him ever since first year, when he had Transfigured Peter’s cauldron into a parakeet during a Potions lesson as one of his little jokes. It was doubly irritating that it was such an advanced spell and Sirius had mastered it so easily. It seemed to Peter that nothing was difficult for a Black.
Peter came to his usual compartment, pleased to see his fellow fifth-year, Severus Snape, already sitting inside. He and Sev had become close in their second year, when Regulus had arrived and seen the two older loners as potential followers. Both boys lived in Regulus’ shadow, and both had something to prove to their fellow Slytherins.
For Sev, it was because he was a half-blood. For Peter, it was because everything seemed to come slower to him. Magic, friendships, even growth spurts. He was always just a little bit behind.
‘Good summer, Pete?’ Severus asked, looking up from the book he’d been reading. His thick black hair covered part of his face, but Peter could still see that he looked extremely tired. He had dark circles under his eyes.
‘Alright.’ Peter shrugged. ‘You?’
‘Not really. I’m just glad to be going back to Hogwarts again.’ Peter knew Severus didn’t get on with his dad, so summers were never easy. He was going to ask him about it and try to see if he could help when someone spoke up behind him.
‘Good morning!’ A familiar voice said from the entrance to the compartment. Regulus stood there, taller and deeper-voiced than he had been just a few short months ago. ‘How are my boys?’
‘Great!’ Severus lied. He was never as honest with Regulus as he was with Peter. Regulus was perfect, so his friends had to appear perfect, too.
‘Glad to hear it.’ He privileged them with one of his rare grins, which lit up his whole face and made him look a great deal more like Sirius. ‘I’m afraid I can’t stay and chat, I’ve got to go to a meeting.’ Regulus said, tapping the silver Prefect badge on his chest.
‘Wow, congrats!’ Peter said, trying not to let jealousy creep into his voice.
‘Oh, you’re a prefect too?’ said a female voice from outside the compartment. ‘Nicely done, Regulus!’
Lily Evans entered the compartment, her bright red hair caught up in an elaborate braid that fell to her waist. She, too, had a silver prefect badge, with the Hufflepuff badger on it, pinned to her robes.
‘Hi Sev, Hi Pete!’ She said, giving Severus a quick hug and waving at Peter.
It didn’t surprise Peter at all that Evans was chosen as a prefect. She was the embodiment of her house: friends with everyone, even Slytherins. Evans was almost certain to be head girl in two years.
‘We’ll catch up later,’ Evans waved, ‘Regulus and I have got to go. Official duties begin!’
Evans and Regulus walked off, leaving Peter to chat with Severus about the upcoming year as the scarlet steam engine pulled away from the station.
Remus Lupin was not on the Hogwarts Express this year. He’d arrived by floo powder the previous evening, awkwardly brushing soot off his patched trousers in the headmaster’s office. Dumbledore had arranged it; since the full moon was on the night of the feast, he’d felt it would be best if Lupin came to the castle a day early so he could be in the Shack well before moonrise. The headmaster had feared any delay on the train could have disastrous consequences.
So, Remus had spent the night in his little bedroom, and he was still wearing his pyjamas at noon. He was lying on his stomach, a book spread out in front of him on the floor, and using his wand to lazily turn the pages, enjoying being back at Hogwarts where there was peace and quiet. He liked his parents fine, but ever since his second year he and his father had quarreled more and more, and this summer had been especially bad. Remus didn’t know if it was regular teenage father-son tension or if it had something to do with the full moons getting so much worse lately and Lyall’s associated guilt. Either way, he was happy to have a little extra time away from home.
He thought about how lucky he was that the Ravenclaw dormitories were separated into individual rooms for quiet study. He’d heard once that the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors had four or six beds all in one room. It would have been impossible to keep his secret if he’d shared a room with someone. Surely they would have noticed him go missing every month.
Remus had made it his life’s mission at Hogwarts to go unnoticed, and he’d done a good job of it so far. He had excellent marks in all his classes except potions, so his professors liked him, but he never raised his hand to speak up during lessons or volunteered for practical demonstrations. He didn’t spend winter evenings cosied up in the Ravenclaw common room or bright spring days lying out on the grass by the Black Lake. He was happiest when he was indoors and alone. Or, if not happiest, then safest.
There were a few students at Hogwarts Remus quite liked: his fellow Ravenclaw, a seventh-year named Benjy Fenwick, had always been kind to him. Lily Evans, who made an effort to befriend everyone, even loners. Dorcas Meadowes, who was really brilliant at potions and really terrible at Defense, so they helped each other with homework in the library sometimes. These people were all acquaintances of Remus’. Not friends. Friends were dangerous for Remus. Remus was dangerous for friends.
Remus shifted to a seated position and felt a familiar ache in his muscles. He sighed. At least I’ll have Poppy’s potions tonight. His parents did their best during the summer months to care for him after the moons, but no one could brew a healing potion or sleeping draught quite like the Hogwarts school nurse.
He knew he should probably get out of bed, but his cat, Eirwyn, had jumped up onto his lap and was gently purring.
‘Fine, then,’ he said, stroking her soft white head and lying back on his pillows, enjoying the silence of the castle empty of children.
It wouldn’t hurt to get a little more rest. Tonight he would use up all his energy in the Shack while the rest of Hogwarts was having a feast.
Fifth-year was not starting on a high note.