Chapter Text
At first, Sirius hadn’t realised there was anything really wrong.
He had assumed the dull ringing in his ear would go away, like it always had before. As for the pain, well, he was used to that. It wasn’t until nearly a month after his mother’s spell had hit him in the chest, and he had flown backwards, hitting his head on the ornate gold of his bedroom door, that he began to worry.
The only time he could hear anyone almost clearly was when his parents were yelling. When his brother, Regulus - sweet-tempered, soft-voiced Regulus - spoke to him, Sirius often didn’t realise until his brother moved into his line of vision. It was Regulus who finally suggested to their parents that Sirius might need to see a healer.
That was how, at the age of ten, Sirius Black came to be declared legally deaf.
Technically, the healer said he was ‘hard of hearing’, but the trauma to his head meant that, over time, his hearing would get progressively worse, leading to total deafness at some point in his early adulthood. Until then, Sirius would have to learn to sign, and would have difficulty hearing and understanding things unless they were said directly into his ear, or said very loudly.
Sirius couldn’t think of anything worse.
He was due to start Hogwarts the following September. Making new friends was going to be difficult enough without trying to explain to those people why he couldn’t hear them. But the alternative would be staying at home, with a tutor, and Sirius found that to be the worst of the two options.
Over the summer, he and Regulus threw themselves into learning to sign, and were soon able to communicate with limited issues. Regulus, to Sirius’ annoyance, picked it up even quicker than his older brother. It made Sirius desperately wish his brother was coming to school this year, too. But Regulus was a year behind him and wouldn’t start until the following Autumn.
When September rolled around, he dutifully packed his trunk and set off for the school. The night before, as he always did when he was nervous about something, Regulus climbed into Sirius’ bed beside him.
“Promise you won’t forget me.” Regulus signed in flickering candlelight.
“Forget you?” Sirius laughed incredulously. “I’m more likely to forget my own name.”
On the platform, Regulus stood beside their stoic mother, and signed to Sirius, who was half hanging out the window to catch a final glimpse of his little brother. “Write to me. Please.” Sirius promised he would. His guilt over leaving Regulus there was so all-encompassing, he was sure he’d be fighting back tears for the whole journey.
But something miraculous happened instead.
Mere seconds after pulling away from the platform in London, the train whistle sounding cheerily to those left behind, the door to the compartment Sirius was sitting in slid open, and a boy with unruly dark hair and glasses stuck his head inside.
“Can I sit with you?” He asked merrily. Sirius stared intently at the boy’s face and managed to lip-read, even with the noise of the train drowning out any of what he had actually said.
Sirius nodded and then, scared he wouldn’t find a time to do it later, announced, “I’m deaf. I might not always catch what you say.” He knew his voice was too loud, and that his tongue had slipped awkwardly around some of the sounds in the words. He had barely spoken, except to Regulus, since the accident, and since he and his brother had been trying to learn to sign, even they had not said much verbally in months.
His cheeks burned as he waited for the boy to smile uncomfortably and make some excuse as to why he needed to sit somewhere else. But to Sirius’ utter surprise and pleasure, the boy lifted his hands and formed the words, “Oh, cool! My cousin is deaf, too. We can sign if you like.”
Sirius grinned and signed back. “I’m still learning how. I only lost my hearing…” He thought for a second and then signed, “Six months ago.”
The boy’s wide smile didn’t falter even a little bit. “I can help you learn. Just tell me to repeat myself if you need me to.” The boy smiled still wider. “How did you lose your hearing?”
“I hit my head. It was an accident.” Sirius added this last part as quickly as he could. As he had been instructed to do.
The boy nodded. “Oh. Can you hear at all?”
Sirius shrugged and signed, “If the room is quiet, and somebody speaks clearly, I can usually hear them okay. But most of the time I need help.”
“Who helped you at home?”
“My brother, Regulus.” Sirius spelt his brother’s name on his palm with a pang of sadness.
“That’s a nice name. Much more interesting than mine. What’s your name?” The boy asked before Sirius had time to dwell.
Sirius smiled, realising they hadn’t introduced themselves properly yet. “Sirius Black.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m James Potter.”
The two signed happily for the next few minutes, and Sirius could not believe his luck in having found a friend so quickly. Not only that, but a friend that could actually talk to him. He was ecstatic.
Then the compartment door opened again.
A tall, thin boy with sandy hair and deep scars cut into his face and neck stepped inside. He had a stained duffel bag slung over his skinny frame and he looked exhausted.
“Can I sit in here?” He asked, for what sounded like the hundredth time. Sirius knew, immediately, that he had been turned away from the other compartments because of his scars. Before Sirius could try and say anything, James stepped in and saved him the trouble.
“‘Course you can.” He said to the boy, whilst simultaneously signing for Sirius’ benefit. “We were just starting to get to know each other. I’m James, and this is Sirius. What’s your name?”
“Thanks.” The boy flopped down opposite Sirius. “I’m Remus. Why are you doing that with your hands?”
“I’m using sign language. Sirius is deaf.” Remus looked interestedly at Sirius, who found he couldn’t quite meet his eye. He stared out of the window instead. A few seconds later, he felt someone pat his knee and glanced up to see James signing at him. “Come on, Remus wants to learn sign language. Talk to him with me.”
They started slowly, teaching Remus a few phrases, until he had cracked a small, shy smile and directed it at them both as his long fingers formed the letters and words. He had a huge scar on his right hand, as if a star had landed on his palm and shot fire down his middle and ring fingers. It made it difficult for him to form some of the letters, and Sirius learned quickly where Remus’ muscles stiffened painfully so that he could still make out what he was saying.
Neither he, nor James, asked Remus what had happened to his hand, or why the rest of his body was similarly scarred. Nevertheless, when they had broken the ice, Remus asked them if they had grown up in Wizarding families. They both said that they had been, and asked the same question of him.
It turned out that Remus had grown up with his father in the Muggle world, although his father was a wizard. His mother, who had died when Remus was seven, had been a Muggle and they had preferred the simplicity of that world. His father, apparently, only practised magic when it was absolutely necessary, and preferred to pretend that he was a Muggle-Born wherever possible.
“Why did he send you to Hogwarts, then?” James asked.
Remus shrugged. “I still have magic, even if he’d rather I didn’t. I have to learn to control it.”
James and Remus apparently heard voices approaching, as they both turned to look towards the compartment door. Sirius looked too and, a moment later, a dark-haired boy and a red-haired girl were walking past, laughing together. Sensing eyes on them, they looked through the windows in the compartment door and both smiled shyly at the three boys. Then, they carried on their way and disappeared from view.
Remus turned back immediately, but James kept staring after the two strangers. Then he looked back at his two new friends and grinned. He formed the words slowly with his hands, making sure Sirius didn’t miss a thing.
“One day, lads, I’m going to marry that girl.”