Work Text:
Detention, Professor McGonagall’s classroom, Friday, 9 September 1977, 19:04pm
It was a dark and stormy night…
No, it wasn’t really, but I’ve always wondered if people would read a story that began like that, and if they’d stop reading right away because it’s the most cliched beginning, even though I don’t think I’ve ever read a book that began that way. I’m sure there was a precedent for that somewhere, but I don’t know what it was.
Now this is beginning badly. I’m sorry, Professor.
So, you want to know what happened last night. I hope you realise my account is going to be very different from the others’, because… well, just because.
Do you know when you say, “Black,” you either take a deep breath or sigh before you say it. Do I truly make you despair that much, Professor? Really? Since you’ve just said my name and looked meaningfully at my parchment, I suppose you want me to keep writing. I didn’t mean to stop, but Peeves really is distracting. Did you see the way he came through the wall? Do you suppose it feels strange to him? I must ask him.
So, where was I? Just getting started. I’ve been here twenty minutes and it seems as if I’ve been here twenty hours. Remus has an entire piece of parchment covered, doesn’t he? I’ll bet he does.
Do you ever want to roll your eyes when people ask you ridiculous questions? Why would Peter think spelling counts on this when he knows you’ve never cared before when it comes to writing as part of our detentions? Though, maybe he’s never had to write before? I’ve forgotten. There have been many detentions, you know, and they all seem to be indistinguishable from each other. Indistinguishable. Now there’s a word we don’t use enough.
So. You want to know what happened last night.
I suppose it started when we got here yesterday. You know what happened…
Gryffindor Tower, Thursday, 8 September 1977, 7:45am
“Come on, Sirius!” James yelled, banging on the door to the loo. “You’ve been in there for ten minutes, and I have to—”
Sirius jerked the door open, grinning. “You have to fix that stupid bit of hair on the back of your head that’s sticking up.”
“Bastard,” James muttered, pushing past him. “Your hair looks worse in the morning.”
“Maybe you should try Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion,” Sirius said over his shoulder. “I hear it works wonders.”
“Where’s my wand?” James demanded, turning and heading towards his friend. Sirius darted away, laughing. “You use it too, Padfoot!” James suddenly grinned. “Every time you use it, another Galleon goes into my family’s vault.”
“I never buy my own. I use yours.” Sirius yelped and dodged the hex that James shot at him.
“Can we please go one morning without hexes and curses?” Remus said with a loud sigh. “Just one morning?”
“Anything for you, Moony, dear,” Sirius said, puckering his lips and blowing a kiss to Remus. “James, be nice for Moony’s sake.”
James glared at him and returned to the loo.
*********
Twenty minutes later, they entered the Great Hall for breakfast. As they did, a voice called out for Sirius.
“It’s McGonagall,” Peter said, unnecessarily. “What did you do, Sirius?”
“Nothing that I can think of,” Sirius replied. “Or rather, nothing that she should know about. You three go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Black, would you come with me, please?” Without waiting for an answer, she started for the stairs.
Sirius obediently fell into step behind her, then deliberately set his feet down on the floor at a different rate than the professor so they weren’t in step after all. “Where are we going, Professor? What have I done?”
McGonagall kept facing ahead. “We’re going to the Headmaster’s Office.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve done plenty that I don’t know about, but this is not the time for that discussion.”
For another flight of steps, Sirius badgered her to tell him why they were going to Dumbledore’s office, but she simply said, “You’ll find out soon enough. She finally snapped, “Leave it, Sirius!”
He fell silent. She never referred to him by his first name unless there was something desperately wrong and she felt sorry for him. After he’d been Sorted into Gryffindor and she’d asked him if he wanted to be re-Sorted as his mother wished was the first time. When he’d arrived a week ago and went to her to tell her he was living with the Potters, giving her an abbreviated version of the events leading up to that, she’d called him Sirius and offered him a biscuit. To call him Sirius now was worrying.
The Headmaster was seated at his desk with three envelopes in front of him and one long piece of parchment with an official-looking wax seal upon it. He greeted them and motioned for Sirius to sit down. “Sirius, this is for you.” He held out one of the envelopes for Sirius to take.
Sirius looked at the front of it and noted that it was from his Uncle Alphard’s solicitor. Confused and a little concerned, he opened the letter and read it through. He read it through a second time, and to keep from crying, scanned it a third time, noticing all the flourishes and tiny smudges in the letters. His chest felt as if it were stuffed with sand, making it hard to breathe.
“Sirius, I’m so very sorry about your uncle. Alphard Black was a good man, and I enjoyed talking to him every time I had the honour of doing so,” Dumbledore said softly. “I very much enjoyed his sense of humour.”
“I did too,” Sirius whispered. Silence fell--and it wasn’t the good kind where friends were busy reading or doing something together in peace and harmony. No, this was the kind where everything seemed to be frozen, waiting for the next moment to fall like bricks from a collapsing building. “He was going to let me join him in France next year, after school was done.” He felt a hand on his shoulder: McGonagall. He’d almost forgotten she was there. He was glad she didn’t say anything. There was nothing that would make a difference, and anything said right now would only drive the knife of grief deeper into his heart.
Dumbledore seemed to know what Sirius was thinking. He held out the parchment with the seal. “It seems as if your uncle wanted to be sure you were provided for, even if he didn’t realise it would be so soon. His solicitor sent you a copy of the will. He said an official reading happened this past week. He decided to leave you out of it because he was worried your family would be… upset.”
Oh, Sirius had no doubt his family had gone into hysterics once they’d learned Alphard had left him money. He reached for the will and scanned down through it. It took him two times through for it all to sink in. “He left me everything?” he asked breathlessly.
“From what I could tell, he left you everything in his vault—which I’m sure was a substantial amount,” Dumbledore replied. “His house in the country and his flat in Paris, however, those belong to your family, as well as most of his possessions.”
It was so unexpected and so generous. Sirius realised there were tears in his eyes despite trying to ward them away.
“The solicitor will be here at the end of the week to discuss the will with you,” Dumbledore said. “You can choose whoever you’d like to be with you at that meeting. As you are still underage but estranged from your family, you’ll need an adult to be there. I’m sure Fleamont Potter would gladly be there, if you choose.”
Sirius nodded, not trusting his voice.
Dumbledore watched him for a moment then said, “You can be excused from classes today, if you’d rather have some time…”
Sirius shook his head. “No point to it.”
And there wasn’t. He hadn’t been there when his uncle died. He hadn’t known about it until now, and it had happened two weeks ago. He supposed he hadn’t known because he’d been disowned. He would have gone to the funeral if he’d been given the chance. Unless… “Headmaster, how did he die? Do you know?”
Dumbledore, for the first time, looked uncomfortable. “Does it matter, Sirius?”
Sirius lifted his chin. “You know what my family is like, Headmaster. I want to know if they were the ones to do him in. I’m sure they probably knew he was still talking to me, and they wouldn’t have been pleased about it.”
Dumbledore pursed his lips then said, “He was going through one of your family’s warehouses when something went wrong. I heard there was Fiendfyre involved, but I have no official confirmation of that. The solicitor merely said he died in the fire.”
Sirius felt his chest constrict even more painfully. It would have been a horrible death, though considering how hot it burned, he doubted his uncle suffered for long. Still… He closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered. Neither adult chastised him. They knew.
“If there’s anything you need, Sirius, please let us know right away,” Dumbledore said softly.
Sirius got to his feet, stumbling a little as he did. He nodded to the Headmaster and left.
Detention, Professor McGonagall’s classroom, 9 September, 19:17pm
You know how it went yesterday, or so I’d suppose. I couldn’t concentrate at all yesterday. I made my cauldron explode in Potions, which made Slughorn declare he didn’t know how Walburga Black’s son could be so hopeless. I wanted to remind him that Walburga Black had disowned me, but Remus was almost to the point of being sick on the fumes, so, you know. Priorities.
Things didn’t get much better in Runes or History—and you know how good I am at History. By the way, when is the Headmaster going to exorcise Professor Binns? The only good thing about him is that I can nap through his class and still get Os and Es. I could do a better job teaching it. I’m glad I didn’t have Transfiguration yesterday. I know Alecto Carrow would have done better than I would have, and that just will not do.
Anyhow, I know my mates were worried about me. Remus offered to let me look off his Runes homework, so you know how bad it must have been. After dinner, though, James came up with a brilliant idea. And it was brilliant…
Gryffindor Tower, 8 September, 19:15pm
“Gentlewizards, pardon, gentlewizards and Sirius…” James paused as Sirius flipped two fingers in his direction. “I have a brilliant idea.”
Remus groaned. “No. No, no, no. I have the rest of my Transfiguration to do.”
“Oh, come now, Moony, my lad. Transfiguration should be a snap, considering the genius that surrounds you,” James proclaimed. “Now listen. Our good friend Padfoot is grieving mightily for his uncle—as are we all.”
“I didn’t know him,” Peter contradicted.
“Doesn’t matter, Wormtail. When Padfoot is happy, we are all happy. When he is sad, we all are. When he is at peace, we all are. When he grieves, we all do.”
“Our very moods are all dependent upon Sirius?” Remus asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Why, of course,” James replied in a bewildered tone. “Have you not noticed this?”
Remus was silent for a moment then sighed. “That is not untrue.”
James nodded once, sharply. “Then we must help him get through this terrible time.” He reached under his bed and pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky. “It will dull the pain, my dear Padfoot.”
Sirius, who had been lying on his bed, sat up. “I would not say no.”
Remus started rummaging through his trunk. He pulled out a bottle half full of vodka.
“Moony! I am shocked at you!” Sirius exclaimed.
“It was yours. You stole it from your father and brought it back with you after the Christmas hols in January. I merely stashed it away for a, a,” he struggled for the right words, “an appropriate time.”
“You are my favourite lycanthrope ever,” Sirius announced.
“You are an idiot,” Remus said in return.
“Is that any way to talk to a man grieving his favourite uncle?” Sirius asked, pouting a little.
“Yes,” Remus said decisively. “Cups?” He seated himself back on his bed.
James stopped him. “Oh, no, Moony. We’re leaving. It’s a beautiful evening, especially for Scotland. No rain, no fog, not too cold… We’re going into the Forbidden Forest tonight.”
“Oh, come now, James,” Remus protested. “We’ve just come back, you’ve been made Head Boy, which still is a source of astonishment and dismay to me and makes me question Dumbledore’s sanity… Why would we go out when we could just stay safely here?”
“Because Padfoot needs to get out and howl a bit,” James said. “We’re going to give Alphard a grand send-off. We know the rest of the bloody Blacks wouldn’t have done it.”
“I say let’s go,” Sirius said, reaching for his shoes.
Detention, Professor McGonagall’s classroom, 9 September, 19:36pm
Under normal circumstances, I would have denied that there was alcohol involved, but as you caught us and have judged and condemned us, there’s no point. I had bottle of brandy that I added to the mix as well. Peter brought some crisps and two bottles of butterbeer. If we’d have invited you, would you have come with us? Would you be mad at us now? I think not. We are a fun lot.
Anyhow, we managed to sneak out of the castle—I refuse to tell you how—and followed one of Hagrid’s trails deep into the Forest. Since you’ve made us help Hagrid during detentions, we know the Forest. Aren’t you sorry? There’s a clearing that we found that’s the perfect size—big enough to move around, small enough that we can use warming charms on colder nights to be comfortable and also small enough that we can put up shielding spells to keep some of the more dangerous creatures away. Though the most dangerous creature in the Forest last night was probably Remus. I joke. He wasn’t one bit dangerous last night. Having said all that, it was unusually quiet, and we decided to build a small fire. A fire can be a great comfort, don’t you think?
Forbidden Forest, 8 September, 21:34
“He was the only one to tell my mother to back the fuck off,” Sirius said, his words slurring a little. “A good man, my uncle.”
“A great man,” Remus agreed.
“Altogether brilliant,” sobbed James.
Peter raised an empty butterbeer bottle. “To Uncle Alphard.”
“To Uncle Alphard!” the other three repeated, raising their own bottles.
Sirius leaned over and put his hand on James’ shoulder, partly to comfort him, partly to keep himself upright. “Prongs, mate, pull yourself together.”
“He was such a good person,” James said, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.
“I know, I know,” Sirius said, patting his shoulder heavily.
“But what’ll you do now?” James asked, turning his teary eyes towards Sirius.
Sirius sat back. “I’ll do what I planned and be an Auror. I’ll arrest every one of my relatives and lock ‘em up in Azac—Azcan—Azbacan. They deserve it.” He nodded with resolution and drank the last bit of vodka in the bottle.
The boys fell silent, staring into the fire they’d built. Remus suddenly looked down at his watch. He winced slightly and reached into his jumper pocket for a small bottle.
“Whass that, Moony?” Peter asked.
Remus sighed. “The potion my parents got from that potionmaker in Lithuania. You know. The one they took me to over the summer.”
Sirius sighed loudly. “Moony, why don’t you just tell ‘em to leave you alone? They spend all their money on this shite that never works.”
“They think there’s a cure out there somewhere,” Remus gave a one-shoulder shrug. “They might be right.”
“The cures only make you sicker,” James pointed out.
Remus unscrewed the lid and stared sadly at the bottle. “I know. But I hate to waste them after they’ve paid so much for them.”
“Tell ‘em to just stop,” Sirius said firmly. “It’s doing no one any favours and, Godric’s balls, Moony! Is it that stuff that reeks?”
Remus cringed. “It doesn’t smell pleasant, no.”
Sirius reached over and plucked the bottle from Remus’ fingers. “Give it. They want you to die from the smell alone?”
“It’s not that bad,” Remus protested.
Sirius waved the bottle under James’ nose, and James gagged. “How do they expect you to drink it when it smells like something rotten?” James choked out.
“It’s really not that bad!” Remus insisted more loudly this time.
“Do you have to drink the whole bottle?” Sirius asked.
“Yes, and I have to do it before midnight,” Remus said, reaching for the bottle.
“How many bottles have you had already?” Peter wanted to know.
Remus pondered. “There were eighteen, and there’s this one and one more left.”
“And nothing has changed.” Sirius peered more closely at the liquid in the bottle. “Is this shite green?”
“It looks a little like something lime-flavoured, yes, but—”
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never asked. Give it.”
Sirius stared at him, blinked once slowly, then said, “Moony, I want to do something for you.”
“Oh, gods, Sirius, please. Just give the bloody bottle back to me so I can drink it and get it over with.”
Sirius shook his head. “I couldn’t save Uncle Alphie. I shall save you this bit of torture, Moony.” And with that, he drank the contents of the bottle down.
“Oh, bloody hell,” Remus groaned.
Peter and James were staring at Sirius with wide eyes. Sirius stared back. “What?”
“You don’t know what was in that,” James said, looking less tipsy than he had a few minutes ago. The tears had dried up as well.
“Couldn’t be that bad if it hasn’t killed Moony yet.” Sirius pointed to Remus and swayed back and forth.
“You don’t look so good,” Peter said after another moment.
“Don’t sick up all over me!” James shuffled over towards Peter, widening the distance between him and Sirius.
“Or me,” Remus said, doing the same.
“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested. “I’m not going to let that stuff—” He pressed his lips together tightly, but already he knew it was going to be a lost cause. He’d had too much alcohol, and the potion very definitely was not in favour of that. He got up and sprinted for the surrounding trees.
Detention, 9 September, 19:49pm
I am usually much better at holding my liquor. Don’t ever fear I will let Gryffindor down for being a lightweight at drinking, Professor. I shall do Gryffindor proud every time! But that damn potion… And here’s the strange thing about
Wait. How is Peter done already? You’re not going to
You did. You let him go! What the hell, Professor? He couldn’t possibly have given you enough detail about what happened last night to make you happy. You said you wanted the entire story, and I’m only about halfway through! He’s such a rat. I know he’s my friend, but honestly, who finishes their detention essay so quickly and then leaves his friends behind? It’s a travesty! It’s wrong, is what it is! I’d never do that.
As James and Remus are still here, it should be obvious that he couldn’t have written everything out well enough to please you. You are more discerning than that! You are letting me down, Professor. What a disappointment when your heroes disappoint you!
Well, that was a bad sentence, wasn’t it? Maybe I’m not completely over last night.
Back to the story (because I want to get out of here and find out what Peter is up to. The rat.) I almost got sick, but when I got deeper into the woods, I didn’t feel so sick. That wasn’t the strange part though. I sat down and leaned up against a tree and closed my eyes for a little bit. It was cooler where I was, and it felt good. So, I was enjoying the peace and quiet. Yes, I know what you’ll say, that I never give you a moment’s peace when I’m at school, and I don’t deserve to have a moment’s peace for myself. Tell me that I don’t make your life a little more interesting though.
Here's where the strange part comes in. As I’m sitting there, I hear something moving through the woods behind me. I know I should have been more alarmed than I was, but at that point, I was of the mind that I felt so terrible that getting killed by something like an Acromantula might be preferable. (Remus swears he saw an Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest once. I told him he’s out of his wolfy mind, but he insists.) So, I sat there and waited to be eaten. Whatever it was came closer to me, and as it came closer, I swear I head music when it put a foot down on the ground. Instead of actual footsteps, I mean. Very strange, right? I heard it come close and stop right beside me, and by this time, I realised it was something with four legs. I thought it might be a centaur, but when I opened my eyes, it was a unicorn.
Now, Professor, I’m not going to pretend that magical creatures are my strong suit, but I’m reasonably certain that unicorns aren’t supposed to be pink and fluffy. I’m talking candy floss pink and candy floss type main and tail. It even smelled like candy floss. What kind of unicorn do you know that smells like sugar? I swear to you that’s how it smelled. I remember thinking I wanted to lick it to see if it would dissolve on my tongue, but I didn’t. It felt too much like a real unicorn’s fur to risk it. Not that I know what it’s like to lick a unicorn, but I’m sure it would be disgusting.
This unicorn, this pink and fluffy unicorn lies down beside me and puts its head in my lap. Professor, have you ever had this happen to you? If you haven’t, let me be the first to tell you that this manoeuvre requires a lot of manoeuvring in order not to get impaled. I was nearly skewered more than once as the thing settled onto my lap. You can’t help but pet it though. They are soft—and this one was fluffier than most, I think. Anyhow, I was stroking its neck when James came to find me.
Forbidden Forest, 8 September 1977, 23:47pm
“Sirius.”
“James”
“Sirius.”
“James.”
“Sirius!”
“For Godric’s sake, James, we have established that we know each other’s names. What do you want?”
James gawped at him a moment longer. “You have a unicorn sleeping on your lap.”
Sirius peered down at the unicorn. “She’s not sleeping. Her eyes are open.”
James waved his words away. “Semantics. You have a unicorn’s head on your lap.”
“True. Aren’t we glad that the rest of the unicorn is still attached?” Sirius asked, grinning.
“Why is there a unicorn on your lap?”
“She wanted a place to sleep, I suppose.”
James stared at him for a moment. “Sirius, you do realise that unicorns prefer virgins.”
Sirius felt his face go warm. “I don’t remember Kettleburn ever saying that.”
“I think he thought it wasn’t worth mentioning it since everyone knows it,” James said.
“It could be a rumour,” Sirius stroked the unicorn’s neck. “James, does this unicorn look and smell like candy floss?”
James blinked at him. “It’s not a rumour, it’s a well-known fact, and what are you talking about? It’s a unicorn. Unicorns don’t look and smell like candy floss.”
Sirius leaned down a little and breathed in deeply. The unicorn grunted a little as if laughing at him. “It’s not pink?”
“Have you gone blind, Sirius? It’s a unicorn. It’s as white as the purest snow. Which, brings me back to the question: after all this time, are you really still a virgin? You told me…”
“Shut up, James.”
“What about Marlene MacKinnon?”
“What about her?”
James rolled his eyes. “You waxed rhapsodic about her tits—”
The unicorn lifted its nose, as if peering up at Sirius. “You know I’m a leg man,” Sirius protested.
“What about Bess Finnegan?”
“By the gods, James!” Sirius exclaimed. “Can we discuss my love life—”
“Or lack of one—”
“Fuck the hell off!” Sirius snapped.
“So, you are a virgin.”
Sirius smacked his hand over his face. When he lowered his hand, he said quietly and dangerously, “James, I have a unicorn on my lap that looks and smells like candy floss, all pink and fluffy and… cute. You say it’s a typical white unicorn. Why are I seeing and smelling pink candy floss? And why are there Doxies flying around your head?”
James looked around quickly, waving a hand around in the air as if to swat off the creatures. “There are no Doxies, Sirius.”
“Your hair looks like grass,” Sirius suddenly realised. “Why does your hair look like grass?”
“What in the name of Merlin is wrong with you?” James demanded. “My hair looks the way it always—” He suddenly stopped.
“What?” Sirius asked, not really liking the expression on his friend’s face.
“Remus’ potion. I wonder if there was something in it that is making you see hallucinations.”
Sirius poked at the unicorn’s neck. It snorted with disdain and sat up. James and Sirius had to dodge to keep from getting impaled. “You’re really not pink?” Sirius asked the creature.
The unicorn snorted again and stood up. Apparently, it had had enough of being insulted, and it ambled away into the woods.
“Who knew unicorns were that smart?” Sirius asked rhetorically.
“You would have known that, if you paid even the slightest bit of attention in class,” James pointed out.
“Hey!” Sirius protested. “I paid attention in that class. Mostly. Sometimes.”
“Come on, mate,” James said, sighing as if he were vexed. He stood up and held out a hand to pull Sirius to his feet. “Let’s get back to the others.”
Sirius glanced around. “There are bubbles floating around us.”
“No, there aren’t.” James slung his arm over Sirius’ shoulders and began to steer him back towards the fire. “You’re seeing things.”
“The purple rabbit?” Sirius pointed.
“A patch of flowers.”
“The sparkles in the trees?”
“Dew, I would say, but nothing more than that. I can’t see anything sparkly.”
“The rock shaped like a pumpkin?”
“Oh, well, that’s real enough.”
Sirius inhaled deeply. “Does it smell like pumpkin juice?”
“No. Maybe we should take you to Madame Pomfrey. These hallucinations are very strange.”
Sirius nodded. “That might be wise. We can find out what is causing them.”
“We can,” James agreed.
“And then take it more often so you can see what I’m talking about!” Sirius exclaimed.
James groaned. “No, Padfoot! This isn’t normal! You shouldn’t want to do this again.”
“The candy floss unicorn was very pretty. I wouldn’t mind seeing it again. I also wonder what I would see if I looked at a centaur right now.”
“Let’s not discuss that,” James said firmly.
They’d stumbled into the clearing by that point, and Remus and Peter were staring at them.
“Did you just say you saw a candy floss unicorn?” Remus asked tentatively.
“I did,” Sirius agreed.
“He’s hallucinating, probably because of that potion of yours,” James said.
“Should we take him to Madame Pomfrey?” Peter asked.
“That was my thought,” James admitted.
“Let’s not,” Sirius decided. “She’ll be angry that I drank Remus’ potion. Which is ridiculous, because it isn’t as if the potion was going to make him not be a werewolf anymore.”
“We don’t know that for certain,” Peter said, his tone sceptical.
“Fuck all, we know it,” Sirius scoffed. “Nothing ever works. Moony, it’s about time you asserted yourself a little and tell your parents—Moony, when did you get purple freckles?”
Remus slapped his hands onto his cheeks. “What do you mean--?”
“Hallucinating,” James reminded Remus. “Padfoot, his freckles are the regular colour.”
A purple freckle on Remus’ cheek seemed to glisten in the light of the fire, so Sirius reached out to touch it. It didn’t feel wet or anything, so he pulled his finger away. As he did, though, it seemed as if the freckle was stretching between Remus’ cheek and his finger. “Weird,” he muttered.
“What are you doing?” Remus asked hoarsely.
“It’s stretchy,” Sirius commented. He moved his hand up and down and the purple opalescence followed. He increased the speed until the purple jiggled like it was a thin string of gelatine or mozzarella cheese. He giggled.
“You did not just giggle like a little girl,” James said, even though it was clear to all of them that he had.
“It’s funny!” Sirius insisted.
James grabbed his arm and tugged at him, trying to get him away from the obviously distressed Remus. He lost his balance and fell, but he fell into a bed of soft grass punctuated with flowers coloured as no living flower ever had been. Neon blues and pinks and yellows floated free from the flowers and rose into the air, disappearing into the sky.
“Pretty,” he whispered, stretching a finger out to try to touch a bright orange flower that drifted past his nose.
He was vaguely aware that the others were arguing about what to do with him. He let them argue, content with lying in the grass and watching the flowers blink out in the darkness above him.
Suddenly, something flew across the sky. Sirius would have thought it was yet another hallucination until Peter asked excitedly, “Did you see that?”
“A shooting star!” James exclaimed just as Remus said in a more subdued tone, “A falling star.”
Sirius’ eyes remained anchored on the part of the sky where the star had vanished. “A falling star,” he repeated. “Like me.” Sobriety flirted with him as he thought about how he’d fallen literally and how he’d fallen away from the Black family figuratively. His uncle came to his mind. “My uncle is a fallen star now.”
His words made the silence around them deepen. He could feel the truth of his words sink into his chest, and his heart exploded from the grief of lost possibilities and the only true affection he’d ever had from a family member other than his brother. He rolled over so his friends couldn’t see his tears.
It was Remus who knelt down beside him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Padfoot. Let’s get you back to the dorm.”
Detention, 9 September 1977, 20:02pm
We got out of the Forest safely enough. I was still seeing strange things: glowing leaves, a couple of spiders bigger than dinner plates, and at one point, James had the head of a deer. I think Peter had a rat’s tail sticking out of his trousers, but I wasn’t going to look at his bottom close enough to see. There was a tree singing to us too. It was singing “Seven Drunken Nights” and doing a bloody good job of it too. We sang it through two or three time. Maybe it was five times. I don’t know for sure.
There were strange things happening with the paintings: strange colours and strange beings that never existed in them normally. That painting of Cassandra in the east wing on the second floor? Bubbles were floating out from it.
I would have told this all to you last night, but honestly, when you stepped out from the shadows, you scared every bloody bit of sense out of my head. And then as I kept staring at you…
Professor McGonagall, I’ve told you about our night. Considering everything that I’ve told you, can you blame me for what I was seeing? I never in a million years meant any disrespect. I never wanted to see what my treacherous eyes were seeing—or what the stupid, fecking potion told me I was seeing. (Notice how I changed the spelling so it wouldn’t be as offensive as it might have been.) Anyhow, it was an innocent mistake. Yes, I understand I shouldn’t have taken Remus’ potion, but I did truly want to spare him one bit of suffering. Can’t you talk to his parents, Professor? Surely, they respect you enough to listen to your advice. Mr Lupin is still a tiny bit afraid of you because of something that happened in his fourth year, though he refuses to tell us exactly what happened. All he’ll say is that is that it involved a ball of yarn. I won’t press you for details, especially now, obviously, but I’m as curious as any cat. You understand that completely, right?
I see James and Remus are gone now, and you’re giving me that look. You have several, actually. The one you’re giving me now means you’re not sure what to make of me. Does that mean you thought I’d shirk this assignment or give it short shrift? I feel as if I need to break out my better vocabulary to prove to you that I’m truly sober and taking this detention seriously. I need to, because otherwise, you’ll never believe me when I say I am truly, truly sorry for what happened. Will you ever forgive me? I hope you know that if there were a way to remove that memory from either of our minds, I would take that step. I have no desire to remember you as you were last night—or as my potion-addled brain remembers you. Not that you weren’t properly imposing, emerging from the shadows as you did—even if it did look as if you were wearing a bikini. Why the hallucinations chose to make me see you like that is beyond me. Remember, Professor, I was seeing pink candy floss unicorns. My brain would never have been able to come up with the image of you in skimpy swimming attire at any other time, I assure you. I never in my wildest dreams would have even had the barest thought of the possibility of it happening. Never. Gods, that was a badly constructed sentence as well, wasn’t it? That’s all because this has now become very awkward, and you’re staring at me openly. I shall close this essay with another apology and a promise—I am very, very, very, very, very, very, very sorry, Professor, and I will never do it again, never ever. I have learned my lesson about taking potions that were not made for me or recommended by a healer or Madame Pomfrey.
I can’t, however, promise I might not try to sneak out of the castle after curfew again. I must be honest about that, and I think you know me well enough to know I will. I will try very hard not to get caught.
Oh--and if you could speak to the Lupins, that would be much appreciated.