Chapter Text
Remus
Remus isn’t a bad kid. Not really.
He lets the crisp Scottish air seep into his skin as he winds the window down. His lanky legs stretch across the backseat and allow his hair to move unruly with the wind. He traces the breeze with his hand now, finding his own twisted form of humour in seeing how far he could outstretch his fingertips before they got as close as possible to being hit by the passing sign poles. The car was moving fast. At this rate, it could snap his hand right off if he stretched it just a bit further.
It took him leaning his head half out the window for the cab driver to say something.
He’s been staring at the teenage boy through the rear window half the ride, no doubt because he’s confused about him and his silent way. People always seemed to be confused about Remus recently. One of them, notably, being his uncle, not knowing what to do with him except send him off.
“Could ya put all your limbs inside for me mate?” He shot a considered look at the teenage boy before his face resolved in a grin. “Can’t have a kid die in my car. Bad for business, you know.”
Remus almost laughed. You’re already driving me to a place that’ll kill me. He thinks depressively, knowing if he said it out loud he wouldn’t really be taken seriously. Nevertheless, he silently adhered, tucking himself back into his seat.
“Why’re you going to this part of Scotland anyways? Nothing but bush here.”
Remus didn’t really feel like speaking. He was tired and thoroughly bored. A six hour train ride from London does that to a person.
“Can you turn on the radio?” Remus attempted, but the driver only widened his smile.
He was finding humour in his reluctance.
“Not till ya answer my questions,” the driver said. “So how old are ya?”
Remus rolled his eyes, secretly wondering how old the guy actually thought he was. Remus was a tall boy dressed head to toe in his grandpa’s sweaters. Neck down he could be anywhere between 20 to 60. His mum used to tell him it was his shaggy haircut and baby face that kept him looking young enough.
After he snapped out of his contemplation he realised the driver had been guessing the entire time.
“...20? 18? 17? 16? 15? Well now this is way too low, you’ve got to tell me—”
“17 years young, sir,” Remus muttered, toying with the holes in his sweater.
“Going to a new school or something?”
“Yeah… something.”
Remus hoped he wouldn’t press on because he wouldn’t know how to answer any further than that. He brought out the slip of paper scrunched at the bottom of his backpack, his hand brushing past his half empty pack of Embassy’s. Considering for a second, he slipped the pack into his slacks pocket. He’d smoke one before he entered the place. He deserved it.
Hogwarts Correction and Rehabilitation Camp for Troubled Youth
Participant Name: Remus John Lupin
Participant, Remus scoffed to himself, smoothing out the rest of the page, treating me like I’m entering in some experiment.
An exciting and exceptionally educational experience for youth to repent and reform behavioural mishaps and deviant conduct. Being heavily Christ-integrated, this programme will—blah blah blah, Remus got the gist of it.
A place where bad kids are sent to be brainwashed to turn good.
But that’s the thing isn’t it. It’s for bad kids.
Remus isn’t a bad kid. Not really. He’s just done bad stuff. Really bad, horrid stuff. It’s not completely the same as ‘being bad’ though.
There could be kids fresh out of juvie in there, having done the worst stuff he could think of. Then again, one of the worst things he can think of he’d already done himself, so who was he to be scared of them? It probably wouldn’t be that many kids there, right? Remus held in a groan. It was just like school, wasn’t it? If he was gonna get bullied here too, he might as well just ask this friendly driver to run him over now and save himself any further embarrassment.
Then again he could make friends. All the kids there are probably like minded and rebellious and Remus has always fancied himself a girl who lives life on the edge.
Nah, he thought. Who was he kidding? Girls were the least of his worries in the grand scheme of it all. He’s already consumed by his choices, one more bad one and he’s done for.
No, Remus, it wasn’t your fault, none of it was your fault, none of it is your fault.
If he thinks too much about it he may just combust, so he closes his eyes instead.
It was a short-lived nap before the car halted. They were at the end of a dead end road, a huge expanse of greenery ahead and at the point where the forest met the plains, a gated fence enclosed an area with a series of cabins. And one ornate church. Remus could see a massive crucifix sculpture at the front of it even from the car.
Remus ponders for a moment what would happen if he simply asked the driver to turn around and head back to the train. He wouldn’t agree to, of course. First, he’d only been paid for the one-way ride and he most certainly didn’t have enough for the whole way back. Second, his uncle would realise he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. And considering his sensitive state with London authorities and family court back home, it wasn’t exactly wise to try escape. Third, where in the bloody fuck was he?
“Gonna leave now?” The driver eyed him, raising an eyebrow. “Do ya need help with your trunks?”
“Nah, I’ll be right, I’ll be going in just a bit.”
Remus rolled down the window, assessing his surroundings better. There were ten cars around him, parents pulling out trunks for the kids, a silent endeavour. Remus had to keep reminding himself these were all troubled kids. So seeing there be silence as the parents and the children parted ways, no hugs or byes or anything was expected.
As Remus started to lug his own trunk out of the back, he heard the car before he saw it. It groaned but in an intense way, not sputtering like the other cabs nearby it. It was a black Aston Martin, fashioned with another logo displayed right on the front as well. It was more like a crest actually.
Some troubled kid this is to be pulling up here in this.
As the kid stepped out, he was initially shocked.You would think he was younger if it weren’t for his height. The boy was tall, not as tall as Remus, but tall regardless. He had a hollow look to him and guarded eyes, shifting from side to side as he grimaced. Considering they were spending the next seven weeks in the middle of nowhere, you’d think he would be dressed less prim and proper than he was but regardless, he’d shown up in a dress shirt.
What was more shocking was the second boy who followed him out. For every way he looked, the second boy was the complete antithesis. Longer hair which curled and frizzed. Wide eyes and an unruly spirit about the pep in his walk.
Brothers. Remus didn’t even think about the idea of siblings being sent together, but alas, it was possible.
The cab driver was gone as soon as he closed the door and so Remus exhaled his anxieties with a breath, walking through the gate.
He would be fine.
He would walk in, take a seat, follow orders.
All he had to do first was walk in.
Marlene
“AND DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TRYING TO CALL US MARLENE ROSE MCKINNON BECAUSE WE WON’T BE ANSWERING!”
“OH PLEASE! DON’T WORRY, YOU WON’T BE HEARING FROM ME AGAIN! NOT WHILE I’M HERE AND CERTAINLY NOT AFTERWARDS!”
“LIKE YOU CAN AFFORD YOUR OWN PLACE!”
“I’LL MAKE DO TO GET AWAY FROM YOU LOT!”
With that, Marlene slammed the trunk shut, watching her parents speed off while she huffed her chest. Her eyes followed the car until it became too tiny to trace. Then they darted off to the right, where a boy was watching the ordeal go down.
“Parents, am I right?” He joked, cracking a smile, Marlene took as distrustful. He also had spiky blue hair, spurring all different directions. “I’m Barty Crouch.”
Marlene scowled, still fuming. “I didn’t ask, did I?”
Barty raised his hands, backing away and following the path to the church.
Marlene deliberated with herself whether she should go in or not. See, she didn’t deserve to be going here, she really didn’t. What she did was a matter of restorative justice and she refused to see it any differently.
She peered right through the doorway and saw kids in there already, maybe 40? More than she thought there would be. Then, she looked up, the massive crucifixion statue towering over her with judgemental stature, and, strangely, a stream of smoke rising behind it.
With a sniff, she could smell the fag somewhere, she just had to figure out where. Cornering around the church, she finally located the source.
It was a tall boy. Super skinny with a dart wedged between his lips. He had sort of dusty brown hair which seemed to blend in with his ugly sweater. Her eyes zeroed into the pack in his hand.
“Can I bum one?” she asked lightly, trying to hide her desperation.
He raised his eyebrows in deliberation with the offer. Surely this boy would take pity on the likes of her.
“... please?”
The boy sighed, passing one over and lighting it with ease.
With a drag, she sighed, joining him and sitting by the back wall of the church. “You have no idea how long it’s been for me. Wasn’t allowed matches for a good while—”
She stopped herself and the boy peered up curiously.
“Why not?”
“Uh—you know, it’s—it’s complicated.”
“Right,” he scoffed. “I’m Remus Lupin.”
“I’m Marlene Mckinnon,” she said, strangely trusting of Remus from the get-go. “The introduction thing is starting in a minute.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still debating running away.”
“Same. And well… churches freak me out.”
She could tell he wasn’t in much of a talking mood, but he implored further.
“How so?”
She took a long drag until it burnt the words from the back of her throat.
“My father’s a pastor,” Marlene said plainly. “And I’m a sinner.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Well all the kids here are, that’s for sure.”
Remus stubbed the butt of his second dart out on the brick.
“You ever been to something like this?”
Marlene shrugged.
“Sort of. Dad caught me doing—he caught me once and he sent me to this therapy programme out in the woods. All the girls there were batshit though and it didn’t… well it didn’t help like he thought it would.”
Marlene bit her lip, instantly regretting the overshare. How was she to know he didn’t think exactly like her dad? That he wasn’t disgusted by her? Before she could regret any further, though, he had nodded in silent understanding.
“Righteous prick he must be,” Remus said simply, offering a small grin. Marlene returned it.
“They all are, aren’t they?”
Sirius
Absolute fucking bullshit this was. Complete rubbish that this was what he was forced to be spending his summer doing. He just wouldn’t have it.
As he filed into the church, he slid right into the end corner of the last pew, hanging his feet onto the one in front. A group of 30 to 40 year old men stood at the front, hands clasped in front of their chests and facing the kids in a perfect line.
Cultish.
He had nothing to do but watch the others trickle in slowly, sitting scattered away from each other. Silent. His brother ended up sitting on the other side of the room, a few rows in front. Head not even turning slightly to meet Sirius’ eyes.
He fiddled with the pin on his collar, the shiny thing displaying the Black family crest. It didn’t really mean anything nowadays. The Blacks were going extinct.
Maybe from years of incestual lineages. Maybe years of perpetuated mistreatment. From the preservation of outdated tradition. It was nature vs nurture, he supposed.
The Blacks were cursed by both.
First it was Uncle Alphard, bless his soul. A timid man and riddled by dementia much too young. When he was in loop with his brain, Sirius often confided in him, joked with him. He would forget anyways, so it was quite an ideal situation.
Then Uncle Cygnus, who was well… he kept that household bruised but brushed and we’ll keep it as that. He died in his sleep, a rather peaceful death for such a violent man. Karma never seems to get to the worst of them.
Then it was Bellatrix. There was always something wrong with her, but at the ripe age of 14, it was really the bodies which got her where she is. Two dead ones under her bed, specifically, carved and scalpelled with organs organised in her closet, eyeballs under her microscope. She was experimenting. Turns out she’d broken into the morgue and stolen them. But hey, at least she didn’t kill them herself. Regardless, it got her a one-way ticket to some mental hospital. Sirius thinks she could’ve been an alright doctor or something if she didn’t have a few conditions herself.
Then, Andromeda left and it was always expected. She was the type to leave and believe it was in her right. Sirius always thought they were most alike in that way. He didn’t blame her at all for how she went about it.
Aunt Druella soon after, of course. She let Cygnus treat her and her daughters however he pleased. In the absence of the pain he inflicted onto them… she only knew to inflict it upon herself. But what truly got her hung on that rope was Andromeda leaving.
Then Narcissa, swept up with her high school sweetheart. There was always something more to that marriage, but Sirius couldn’t think of what it was.
Then the recent one. His father. Orion Arcturus Black.
His family was cursed and all that was left were his rubbish mother, weak brother and psychotic self. So there was good reason to not want to represent the logo on the pin. He had enough of it scratching his neck and finally ripped it off, pocketing it. Maybe he’d need it in the next seven weeks. Something to stab with if he got irritated enough with any of these crazies.
There were about sixty kids in there before a man at the front cleared his throat. Wasn’t incredibly necessary, considering no one wanted to talk to each other in the moment. First thing Sirius noticed was that he was bald. Incredibly bald. The second thing he noticed was that he was creepy.
“Today is the start of something new,” the man preached, hands gripping the lectern. “I address you today as children. We are all, in fact, children under god.”
Someone sitting far away scoffs and Sirius stifles a laugh.
“By the end of this programme, I hope to address you as adults,” the man continues.
“I am Tom, but please, call me Riddle,” he says with an eerie smile, all tight-lipped and ugly.
Sirius feels the need to walk right out, but he spots two of the leaders guarding the door. Great.
“Please, look around you.”
Everyone starts to flick their eyes across the room. Sirius could almost hear their brains churning, their internal monologue wondering what each other did to get here.
“These are the people you are spending the next seven weeks with, so it would be good to keep them in check. Now when I look around me, I don’t see misfits. Or criminals. Or misbehaving teenagers. I don’t. I really don’t. What I see is opportunities. Projects, if you will.”
Kids started to laugh at this. Riddle only smiled wider.
“You are all moldable,” he announced, demanding silence. “And moulded, you will be.”
“First, I’ll explain how things will work in the coming weeks. These people around me. These are your ‘leaders’, you do not need to know their names. They are ‘leader’ to you. You will be assigned a group. There are four of them. They are who you are loyal to, your comrades and the people you should trust.
We wake up with prayer and bible study. We complete rehabilitative activities and drills each day, each one teaching a valuable lesson and giving you all a sense of correct order. Some methods, and some punishments you may not see fit.”
Sirius rolled his eyes at that, as did many others in the room.
“In terms of rules—”
With that, the church doors swung open, a tall boy with round eyes and a blonde girl with heavy eyeliner rushing inside. They slid into Sirius’ row, heads down. He could smell the ash on the boy from the other end of the pew.
“I will give you two grace in your tardiness, as we have just started the program. But that will be the last time. Continuing…”
Sirius sat up now, resting his cheek on his fist and tilting his head ever so slightly to get a glimpse of the two beside him.
“You’ve got fags?” Sirius attempted, scooting over to the boy. He didn’t even turn his head to look at Sirius.
“Nope.”
Sirius scoffed. This kid blatantly lied to him. And he still wasn’t even looking at him.
“Well that’s the last smoke you’ll have in a while if you stored them in your trunk.”
He turned to him, curious. Sirius nodded to the window of the church. Through the stained glass you could see the people working at the camp filing out with everyone’s luggages.
“I’ll bet you anything they’ll confiscate the stuff people have smuggled in,” Sirius whispered.
“I must be fucking prophetic then,” the boy smirked, subtly opening his pocket for Sirius to see a pack. Sirius grinned back, slightly jealous that he hadn’t thought to keep some on him.
“You may just be.”
“Oi,” the girl sitting beside him peered over the boy’s shoulder, addressing Sirius. “What’d we miss?”
“Nothing much. Just that this bloke’s the one in charge.”
“Where’s your brother?” the boy asked.
Sirius averted eye contact, nodding over to the front of the room. “Over there.”
He then scrunched his eyebrows at the boy, passing him a judgemental look. “How’d you know I had one, creep?”
“Saw your car pull up and I just—”
“Oh.”
“Was a pretty nice car—”
“What are your names anyways?” Sirius interjected, dismissive for a reason. This boy didn’t need to know anymore about his family. He wouldn’t want to anyways.
“Remus.”
“Marlene.”
“Hah! So that’s your name, is it?” A boy from the pew in front turned around to face them. Sirius had been watching him while Riddle was talking. He’d ran his fingers through his washed out blue hair every five seconds and it was starting to get ridiculous. Sirius had longer hair than him and wasn’t that fussy over it.
Marlene groaned, glaring up at him while all the boy returned was a pert smirk. “You again.”
“Better get used to me, Marlene. We’re all stuck here the next seven weeks—”
“Hah! Not if I run away before that,” Sirius joked. He was dead serious about it though. He’d tried before.
Only one thing stopping him this time, he thought to himself, flicking his eyes back to Regulus.
“Hey, Barty, actually Bart—can I call you Bart?”
“No—”
“Fuck. Off.”
“Make me.”
“Really, really, really not interested.”
“Who said I was—”
“Turn back around.”
Sirius suppressed a chuckle. Marlene was just cool. There was no other way about it. She had all these silver rings and a septum and bleached brows. She was cool. Remus was cool too. In a passive way, unconcerned way. With his smirk and his lack of eye contact and his cigarettes.
Shaking his head, Sirius tuned back into what the old man was saying.
“—no drinking, smoking, any sort of drug consumption. No swearing either. I will be punishing those who—”
“That’s rubbish!” A plump, golden haired boy shouted, distress apparent on his reddening face.
This ignited a string of cussing amongst the group, with Sirius joining in the mess.
“Rotten cunt!” he meddled, standing up from his seat, along with others.
“Fucking idiot.”
Along with a lot of ‘really??’s and ‘fucking hell’s.
He could see, from the corner of his eye, Remus stifling his laugh.
Barty got most irritated though. He seemed like the type of guy not to actually get angry though, he was cracking insults with a smile on his face. It made him look crazed. Maybe he was.
“Who the fuck are you mate! Baldie’s got some nerve—”
“ENOUGH!”
Riddle finally had enough, banging his fist on the lectern once, hard enough Sirius swore he could hear the wood snap a little.
“Bartemous Crouch… Junior.”
“Sir, yes sir.”
“We’ll have a chat,” Riddle spoke, menacingly, a smile creeping onto his face.
A series of ‘ooh’s erupted around the church. It was funny. It was really just like school. Just with more insane people.
It was like he was being sent to the principal. But different. Sirius got the feeling Riddle was a lot scarier, with that specific look in his eyes.
The one that Cygnus had.
The one that his father had.
James
James loves his parents. They are wonderful and sweet and kind. They’re the types of parents which makes your friends so comfortable in your home, the type of parents who make it a home in the first place, instead of just a house. They put cookies in the oven and dance to their old records while waiting for the timer and they set the table and say goodnight to him every night. They’re good.
Sometimes though, they’re not understanding. To their favour, they do try to be.
They didn’t know at first. Then it became more obvious.
James didn’t know at first either. He’d always been naturally extroverted. How could he not be growing up in the healthy environment his parents curated? But that’s sober. Drunk, he was just mean and confident.
He didn’t know how to drink and not go overboard. It was in his nature to live the fullest way through life. To not leave things unfinished. Like bottles, for example.
Maybe he liked drinking so much because of the burn down your throat. Or how it stills life a little. Just enough so that he could keep up with it. Either way, he hated himself after the buzz was gone. Which is why he decided to just never let it wear off.
When James fell in love with alcohol, taking five shots a day, they tried to help. They couldn’t.
Finally they just decided everything was just too accessible.
So they had good intentions of sending him here. Of course the alcohol wasn’t the only reason but it factored into what happened. And here, he was stone-cold sober. He had to be.
He couldn’t help but think a shot or two would help him endure this part of the camp though. They say introductions are always the worst. He was assigned to Gryffindor, the red group. Along with seven others and three leaders. A bit of an odd ratio, if James were to be honest. Surely the eight of them didn’t need three whole leaders to take care of them?
Their first activity was horrid from the getgo. They were all in a circle, and they had to rank each other, worst to least extreme crime or action done to be sent here. A hell of an introduction to each other.
“Well who’s starting then?” one of the leaders said, peering around the group.
James swallowed. He knew what he did was bad. It really was. But surely everyone else had done worse, right? He would say but he didn’t want to be first. He needed someone else to go that he could compare his crime too.
“You,” the leader said, pointing straight to the boy next to him.
His ears were pink and eyes were sullen and heavy. His hair was funny to James. Almost like it had been flattened by a hat, then with a part of it organised into a plait sticking out the end of it. He recognised him from the church that morning. He had been the first person enraged by the rules.
“Name and crime.”
The boy swallowed.
“Erm Peter. And I’m a—WAS—a drug dealer.”
“Damn, did you bring any?” another guy responded. “I’m Frank. And I am a drug enjoyer.”
James chuckled, but the leaders didn’t. They exchanged glances between each other, writing things down in a notebook.
“I’m not a dealer anymore!” Peter said, frantically, flicking between the group and the leaders. “I quit.”
“And how come?” a leader piped in, raising his eyebrows. “Peter, would you like to share why you are actually here?”
Peter dipped his head low, nervous as ever.
“All the leaders are told the exact circumstances which brought you here. Everything in your files. We can’t force you to tell everyone. But it’s in Riddle and God's favour that you are truthful.”
James almost scoffed.
“Ok well I… uh… I was going to sell… well, drugs. And I had an addiction and well—I sort of kept them for myself.”
This received a series of groans from the group.
“So you screwed over the buyer?” A blonde girl spoke up, eyeing Peter up and down.
“I didn’t—”
“That’s fucked—” a tall boy mumbled.
“Let him finish,” said the redhead.
“Well I sort of blamed the missing drugs on another dealer. He ended up biting the curb.”
“Yeah no that’s horrid—”
“Mate, you suck—”
“We’ve all done stuff we’re not proud of,” James said over the voices, feeling the urge to speak up for a fellow addict.
“Oh yeah?” A boy with curly black hair said. “You should go next then. What have you done then, huh?”
James swallowed. Everyone looked expectantly.
“I’m James. I’ve been an addict. To drinking, mostly. And it’s made me do stuff my sober self is very much against.”
This earned nods from the group. Who else would know best about the effect of drugs than a group of delinquent teens?
“It’s only ever caused me to be in serious shit two months ago. I basically—uh, this guy was messing with my friend and I was pissed—both with alcohol and generally—and I pushed the bloke in a lake. Shit’s pretty deep but I didn’t know he couldn’t swim.”
The pretty redhead looked up at him with concerned eyes. “You killed a kid?”
Everyone stiffened.
“He survived, he was totally uninjured but he just got taken under the water for a little bit. I’m only here cause the parents wanted to press charges unless I got ‘correction’. And so correction I am here for,” James said, rolling his eyes.
The truth about the situation was that he didn’t regret it one bit. The boy he pushed was horrid. He’s always been rude to the people most defenseless and James couldn’t stand it. If he’d known he could swim, maybe drunk James would’ve pushed him into a more shallow body of water. Sober James wouldn’t.
“That’s not too bad,” the blonde girl said, nudging him. “You taught him a lesson without even hurting him.”
“Wish you could explain that to his parents.”
“Mckinnon, would you like to share your story?” A leader said.
The girl shrugged. “Guess so. I’m Marlene and I don’t think I deserve to be here at all for what I’ve done.”
“And what have you done?”
“I lit my science teacher on fire—”
“Holy shit!” the brown haired girl who hadn’t said a word since she got here said, eyes fixed on Marlene.
“Jesus,” the black haired boy muttered.
“Let me explain myself!” Marlene said, crossing her arms. “He touched my friend. And overall is just a massive cunt.”
James raised his eyebrows, flicking his eyes over to the leaders who surprisingly haven’t told Marlene off for her swearing. Maybe they were giving them some grace on the first day.
“Anyways I got expelled for it! Along with my general behaviour probably. It’s ridiculous, the guy only got some of his hair tinged off. He’s just got a bald spot.”
The group erupted in laughter, the redhead specifically, leaning into James’ arm in laughter.
“Alright, I’ll go after that then,” she spoke up, voice clear and chimelike. “I’m Lily Evans and I am—err was—a spray painter, but I much prefer the term ‘radical artist’.”
James wouldn’t have expected that. The boy next to him seemed to agree. It’s odd, he remembered this boy sitting near him in the church, but he looked different now. He could’ve sworn he was wearing some sort of blouse.
“Wouldn’t have pegged her for that,” the boy said, nudging James. “Then again, who are we to know.”
“Right? She’s fucking ace though,” James responded, turning to him. “What’s your name?”
“Sirius.”
“Ahh. Do you have a brother?”
“Err yeah. You noticed him?”
“Who wouldn’t?” James noted.
“Right…”
“Anyways, I live in a pretty… close-minded area and me and my best friend, Severus, decided to speak out in any way we can. In our art. We want to dismantle the oppressive systems which aim to subjugate anything deemed as ‘other’.”
Holy shit, this girl was the smartest person he’d ever met. Whatever she was saying, he agreed.
“The police were sort of after whoever was doing it. In the end, my sister ratted us out. It was either this camp or juvie. And now, we’re here.”
“Both of you?”
“Yeah, did none of you guys come with anyone?”
Some eyes turned to Sirius, who sighed.
“I’m Sirius Black. My younger brother, Regulus, came with me. We were sent because we were just bad kids. Happy?” he said, turning to the leaders.
“That can’t be it,” Peter spoke up, looking suspiciously at Sirius, who scowled in return.
“That is it. We both have done things we weren’t proud of, we both snitched to our mum about each other, we both suffer the consequences.”
“But what did you do?” James asked, innocently enough.
“Story for another day maybe.”
“No fair, I had to tell everyone my thing!”
“And mine!”
“Should we just move on?”
Eyes whizzed around the group for a moment before James spoke up.
“Should we do a vote? We close our eyes and point to whose story we wanna hear next?”
They all closed their eyes, outstretching their fingers.
“Alright open.”
Almost everyone pointed to the tall boy who hadn’t said anything, though Lily and the tall boy were pointing to Mary.
“Ok then, I’m Remus Lupin,” he said, gulping. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”
A series of groans spread.
“You’ve got to share, mate, that’s the whole process,” James encouraged, nudging him.
Remus only rolled his eyes, continuing to fiddle on the ends of his jumper.
“Not gonna. Simple as that.”
“Fine then,” Lily said, turning to the girl beside her. “Do you want to go?”
The girl immediately froze up. She had wonderfully placed freckles, James noticed.
“She’s fit,” Sirius muttered to Remus and James beside him. James snickered. He couldn’t believe that was what he was preoccupied with right now. Remus only shrugged.
“I’m Mary Macdonald. I was sent here… because my dad is way too strict for his own good,” she said, eyes flicking between them all. “He’s this politician and he doesn’t support my lifestyle.”
“Your lifestyle?” Peter pipes in.
“Yes. We’ll leave it at that.”
“Awww come on, Mary, let us in on your secrets. Can’t have Lupin and you be all mysterious!” Sirius said, moving to wrap an arm around her. She slapped his arm away.
“Money is in the mystery, darling. Maybe a few weeks in, you’ll all get to know.”
They all chuckled at this. These people were alright. Maybe he got lucky with being put in Gryffindor, but they were all seemingly right-minded. Or maybe he had only just met them. He had a habit of thinking the best of people. It often didn’t work out.
Other than Peter, James, Sirius, Remus, Marlene, Lily and Mary, there was Frank, a druggie from South Glasgow. James wasn’t even entirely sure he was sober at the moment or if his personality was naturally stoned. The entire time, he’d been looking longingly at the Hufflepuff group, gathered on a different spot on the grass.
“I’m Frank, and me and my other half, Alice, have been separated after being told we could go through this process together,” he said, pointing to the short haired brunette a while away. “We were told that we’d have to get sober one way or another, and so we chose to do it together.”
“Wow, romantic,” Lily said, rolling her eyes.
“Can you blame the guy for being in love,” Sirius defended, patting Frank on the shoulder.
“I’m not particularly fond of people with shared addiction, sorry—”
“We’re not… it’s deeper than that.”
“I’m not one to judge.”
“Yet here you are, judging.”
“Everyone’s judging. That’s sort of what we’re supposed to be doing prick—” Marlene started.
“Don’t call him that, cmon,” Lily attempted.
“Really?!”
“Really what?”
“Guys, it’s not that serious,” Peter tried, much too ineffectual to be taken seriously. “Whatever your arguing about.”
“I think that we’re all annoyed,” Marlene brought up, looking around the group. “I think that everyone is downplaying what they did—”
“Or not sharing at all. How are we going to rank Mary and Remus’ stuff if they’re hiding it from us?” Lily noted.
“And Sirius, he didn’t go into specifics,” Remus said, shooting a glare at the boy next to him. Sirius returned it with confusion and a slight pang of hurt.
“We’re just going to have to go off how bad we think what they did was then?” James offered.
“That’s not sufficient enough proof though! I won’t judge someone based off assumption,”
“It’s just a ranking, everyone, relax!”
“What if it isn’t though! What if this is the first one of Riddle’s lessons and the one ranked least heinous crime is allowed to go home!”
“If that were the case, I’m arguing more for them just telling the truth,” Lily said.
“I’m not doing that!” Mary yelled. “None of you know me! I don’t know you!”
“Bloody fuck, that’s the whole point of telling us, isn’t it!”
“Just judge me how I appear.”
“We can’t judge based on nothing though! Lupin could’ve fucking killed someone, but we don’t know—”
“Make assumptions about me again, Black, and I’ll give you something you can judge me by!” Remus threatened, moving to stand just inches away from Sirius, and frighteningly, towering over the boy. Sirius only smirked and raised his hands, a sense of overconfidence within that boy.
“Fuck, Lupin calm down. Why act so threatened—”
“I’ll do you over, just say one more word—”
Sirius’ whole demeanour changed in an instant, stepping forward to close the gap between the two.
“I’ll give you two. Fuck. Y—”
Sirius was cut off by Remus quite literally tackling him to the ground, the leaders standing by and watching. James quickly interfered, pushing them apart, though they didn’t actually seem like they were going to start punching.
The leaders were watching the entire interaction go down. James suddenly felt a pang of embarrassment. They were test subjects being watched, and they just continued to feed the adults with more things to judge them by. That’s what they wanted.
One of them gave a sickening smile.
“Are we ready to rank each other then?’
Mary
Everyone was quieter now, in thought. The leaders gave them five minutes to cool down after the Remus/Sirius debacle and everyone sat apart. It was so dramatic and highly ridiculous though. Mary didn’t even know how it got to turn physical, they didn’t know each other enough to hate each other that much. They shouldn’t want to know that much.
You want to know what I did to get here? Mary wishes she could say, pursing her lips. The thing so so terrible that MP MacDonald, the picture of the perfect family man had to send his only daughter away for?
She could be addicted like Peter or James or Frank.
She could have set someone on fire like Marlene.
She could be vandalising like Lily.
She could have stolen.
She could have killed someone.
She could have hurt someone.
Instead, her crime was not for hate. It was for love.
It’s funny, how people were so willing to admit to near murder and to breaking the law but she couldn’t admit to loving another girl. They were right to be a little annoyed at her.
But how could they blame her? Hiding herself was something she was conditioned to do, now they’re telling her the complete opposite? Mary wondered whether it was her father’s guidance not letting her speak her sexuality into existence, or if it were her own. With every conversion camp, every argument, every reminder of who her father was, she felt embedded within what people thought of her. Her father. The church. Society. Their opinions and her own became merged somewhere along the way.
“Line up, straight row,” the leader said, watching the lot of them slot into place. “Discuss the order.”
When no one immediately spoke, James did. Mary was garnering that he was a boy of initiative.
“I think that Lily has by far done the least bad. In my opinion,” he said. “I think we can all agree she’s doing what’s right.”
Everyone nodded and she walked over to the very right of the line.
“Then who?”
“I’d say me,” Frank said, raising his hand. “I haven’t actually hurt anyone or anything. Just myself.”
They all agreed. They also all agreed to put Sirius next. Mary wondered about him though. Something told her that just being a ‘bad kid’ wasn’t enough for his mum to send both him and his brother to a place like this.
Then there was dispute over whether Marlene or James’ actions were worse. Marlene was intentional in her harm. She meant to hurt the teacher. She supposed James was intentional too though. But both for righteous reasons. Who's more right though?
“I didn’t know he couldn’t swim! How could I know?”
“It’s the principle of it—”
“Oh come off it, Lily, I only meant to teach him a bit of a lesson.”
“Well what did the boy do to deserve it?” Mary asked.
“Made fun of my friend—”
“For what—”
“For being gay.”
Mary quieted at this, everything feeling a bit too close to her. Instead, she gouged everyone else’s reactions. Most were shocked, the leaders shook their heads. Marlene looked down. Remus’ eyes widened.
“I think James’ was worse,” Mary said, finally.
“What so you think I shouldn’t have spoken up for him?”
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
After an awkward pause, Marlene moved next to Sirius, with James next to her.
“Well I’m certainly not bottom two,” Peter said, hesitantly. “It’s only fair they didn’t say what they did so we can only assume the worst.”
“Unless any of you want to speak up,” Sirius offered one last time, raising his eyebrows at Remus specifically. Remus held his eye contact for a moment, Mary watching his eyes squint to a glare at Sirius.
In the silence, Remus started to walk over to the furthest right of the line, placing him as having the worst crime.
“Remus are you sure—”
“Very.”
They all looked between them and almost immediately, Mary felt a pit at the bottom of her stomach. They’d ranked each other most to least harmless and everyone had to act like they were fine with their position.
Writing down the order in their notebook, the leaders grimaced at them from where they stood. “Right, everyone. Time for dinner then. Head inside.”
The group of them started walking when Mary felt Marlene’s warm hand pull her to walk in line with her. Her rings slid against the curves between her fingers and it reminded Mary all too much about someone she left behind.
“Oi,” Marlene started, whispering in her ear. Mary felt her lips against her curls. “They’re weird, aren’t they?”
“Everyone is, that’s the point of this—”
“No, not the other kids, the so-called ‘leaders’.”
“I agree,” Lily said, listening on the other side of Mary. “They’re creepy. They hardly address us, weird considering that they’re supposed to at least be reprimanding us.”
“And they don’t tell us their names. Sick sort of power trip it is to get us to call them ‘leaders’ in the first place.”
“Oh well, I’m just happy they seem to mind their own business. They didn’t even stop Remus from full on going for Sirius—”
“They’re not minding their own business. Something tells me that’s not how things work around here,” Mary muttered, putting her head down.
“What?”
“I’ve been to things similar to this and this one’s completely different. This is… just…different. Even that first activity was horrid.”
“Agreed, it was a ploy,” Lily said.
Marlene wasn’t following. “Ploy for what?”
“To make us feel bad. Put all the shit we’ve done on a pedestal for everyone to mock and judge us by.”
Mary nodded, avoiding eye contact as Marlene searched hers.
“And the ploy’s working.”
Dorcas
It honestly offended her that she wasn’t considered more of a threat in this group. Within the ‘Ravenclaws’, she’d been wedged between two complete nutters. Her wrongdoings were considered more high level than one-time shoplifter Nora but less than narcotic obsessed Luke.
But then again, if they were ranking based on impressiveness, Dorcas would push more to be higher. The authorities didn’t even know half of the shit she’s successfully stolen. And all of that not getting caught. Right until the end. Even then, it was impressive how she evaded jail time. All she had to do was go to this camp, endure seven weeks of discipline and attempts to indoctrinate her into Christianity, and then she was off scot-free.
Of course she didn’t deserve to be here in the first place, though. She was a teenage girl, for god’s sake. She indulged. She misbehaved. She also just happened to have forty thousand pounds worth of borrowed clothes and jewellery stuffed in her closet and a stolen Peugeot parked in her driveway. Was it truly her fault that the world has a reliance on materialism and that her taste is too expensive for her wealth?
“I love your bracelets,” the girl who introduced herself earlier as Pandora said, speaking in her soft-toned voice.
She sounded so delicate for her strange obsession with sharp objects. That’s what got her stuck in this place. Even when she recounted to the group all the people she had accidentally, or Dorcas would rather think ‘accidentally’, stabbed. She sounded awfully proud that she could make a knife out of any object. She was slightly psycho but she would be a good ally. Everyone else in their group were irrelevant.
“Thanks,” Dorcas responded, looking her up and down. “I love your entire style, and all the crystals in your ears.”
It was true. She had this brilliant array of gems in her piercings, all looping around through each hole in a wild yet synonymous way. Dorcas could immediately sense that they would be close. They had similar styles, but for every choice that Dorcus chose for a more elegant style, Pandora chose a more eclectic one. Dorcas admired that about her, even from first meeting.
“Well all my clothes are yours. Especially once we start rooming,” Pandora said, smiling. “Even if I didn’t share, maybe you’d steal them anyway.”
“Oh you already know me so well.” Dorcus grinned. “Please don’t stab me in my sleep.”
“Only if you’ve done something worth stabbing you for,” Pandora laughed, nudging her.
As they walked to dinner, Dorcus shook her head, ridding herself of any deviant thoughts and trying not to flirt with anyone on day one of the camp. She didn’t need anything else unpredictable in her life. Because as soon as she left this dump, she wouldn't return home. She was going to travel. Scam and steal her way through life like she always intended.
“Anyways,” Pandora said, walking in line with her, then suddenly leaning in close. “The leaders are watching us.”
“They always are.”
“Yeah, but look, they write stuff down in that little notebook. I was looking around the other groups, they all have one notebook too.”
“Wasn’t particularly paying attention to them to be honest.”
“Aren’t you curious about what they’re always writing in them?”
Dorcas paused in thought. She’d assumed it was just recounts of the day.
“Hmm, could be an interesting read.”
She winked at Pandora, offering herself a small indulgence.
“It’d be a shame if they lost it.”
Severus
Severus feels out of place. An understatement.
Also a common recurrence which he seems to be experiencing.
Throughout his entire life.
Unfortunately.
At home, no one felt in place. Nothing and no one was comfortable with each other. His father was angry, his mother was sad. From them, he’d become a combination of both. He felt guilty he had to leave his mother there, all alone. But he’d also remember every time Tobias beat them, and her promise, every time, that they’d leave. He’d remember that he always had a packed trunk ready at her word and she never gave it.
In school his alienation was a given. His oily hair, his sullen eyes, his spiteful demeanour. He was aware he made it so easy for them. He was also aware that he was made for bigger things than them. He had his passions for science and his belief that there was more to life than the institutions which kept him bound and condemned to his own brokenness.
They should honestly be grateful that Severus isn’t doing much worse stuff as a result of all of the shit he’s been put through and all of the shit he was born into.
Maybe he would have been doing worse if he hadn’t met Lily.
That’s a whole nother thing. Lily Evans.
The girl with flowers tucked into her hair and eyes as green as their stems. The girl with passions so strong they superseded her impatience. He was nothing and she is everything. With her, he felt like something.
When she asked him to join her cause, he knew, despite the risks, he would be all in. He’s grown a lot since then. Turns out chemistry helped particularly in developing spray paint which is more durable and permanent than the standard sort. It also turned out that he was also decent at art. Especially in the form of protest. Another result of their secret ideal is that the more he fell in love with Evans, the more he fell in love with the cause.
He’d hope she would someday reciprocate.
Now Lily was pacing back to the church, already chatting away with her group. As soon as he wondered whether she’d look back at him, she turned her head, ever so slightly towards him. He cringed, feeling his pathetic eyes widen at her gaze, but disregarded his own embarrassment at the sight of the small smile she offered him. Before he could return it, she had already turned back.
“You gonna help with the order, Snape?” Mulciber said, snapping his fingers in front of Severus’ face and smiling at him flinching. He’d seemed to be the one to take leadership in the absence of the ‘leaders’ talking.
He was not particularly fond of the group he’d been assigned. Slytherin. All of them gang members and addicts or just being elusive. This boy, Regulus Black, was being a right prick about whatever he’d done to get here, refusing to share and going mute every time he’s pressed about it. But that wasn’t even bad considering there was an absolute nutter who was actually completely mute here, who the leaders informed them was named Evan Rosier. Other than that, there was the loud boy missing, Barty, who was probably being reprimanded by Riddle as of now. Severus, truly, did not want to share a room with these people.
“I have nothing to add.”
“‘Course you don’t,” Wilkes chimed in, glaring at Severus and spitting at his feet. He was in a gang back in his hometown, like the others in the group, and was under the impression that they were top shit in this camp too.
“You know how I think we should settle this?” another boy, Rodolphus suggested. “Fight.”
Severus scoffed, unable to contain his judgement. This boy was a heroin addict, didn’t take much fighting skills to do that. Severus wasn’t too sure why he was suggesting this out of all the people.
“What? You think I couldn’t smash your head in? You wanna go then, huh, Snape?”
He progressively got closer and closer in Severus’ face.
“This is stupid,” Regulus cut in, stepping in front of Severus, unexpectedly. “Let’s just randomise the order. What’s it matter to you?”
“What’s your face matter to you?”
Severus barely had time to register the words before Mulciber’s fist crashed into Regulus’ cheek. The sound was sharp and ugly, knuckles against bone. Regulus staggered sideways into Severus, who caught him automatically by the arm.
Mulciber laughed.
“There. Now we’re done talking.”
Everything broke apart at once.
Avery lunged for Regulus before he could recover.
Wilkes grabbed Severus by the front of his shirt and slammed him backward into the packed dirt. Rodolphus stepped around behind them, cutting off the only easy way out of the clearing.
The camp leaders sitting beneath the shade were just a metre away from them.
Then, Evan drove into Wilkes with his shoulder hard enough to tear him off Severus. Wilkes stumbled backward, swore, and swung wildly. Severus barely got his hands up before the first punch landed across his mouth. Pain flashed through his jaw. He swung back out of instinct, catching Mulciber on the temple. It wasn’t enough.
Mulciber landed a heavy blow across Severus’s face.
Then another.
Severus stumbled, vision blurring.
Severus tried to straighten.
Mulciber’s fist connected squarely with the bridge of his nose.
Warmth flooded instantly down his upper lip. It poured through his fingers, splattering onto the front of his camp shirt, dripping onto the dirt between his shoes.
“That nose needed it anyways,” Mulciber cackled.
One of the leaders finally stood. “That’s enough.” One of them blew a whistle which shrieked across the clearing.
Surprisingly it worked. They stepped back. The damage was done.
“You,” a leader said, pointing at Evan. “Take Snape to the first-aid cabin. Now.”
The leader turned to the others.
“The rest of you—dinner. Straight to the largest cabin, there, next to the church, for dinner.”
Evan guided Severus toward the first-aid cabin as the night turned across the camp, and behind them the others disappeared inside the cabin, as though the fight had been nothing more than another inconvenience.
“Bloody fuck,” Severus swore. Mostly to himself, considering Evan still wasn’t speaking. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”
Severus really hated blood. It just reminded him of his mothers face and his father’s fists.
Severus also hates having to depend on someone. Even having to lean on Evan’s arm, staggering while blood drips from his nose feels like death.
But the thing Severus hates the most, that irks him _ is people seeing him so weak and incompetent they feel superior over him. The types of people who have righteousness because they feel you have none.
The fascists and the privileged and the enablers and the bullies.
They were all the same and they all treated people like Severus the same.
First day in this place and Severus couldn’t avoid being treated like he’d always felt.
Out of place.
He felt it.
He feels it.
He will continue to feel it.
And if he has to feel it, so will everyone else.