I, Sirius

TITLE: I, Sirius


AUTHOR: Lady Sirius

PAIRING: RL/SB

RATING: NC17

FEEDBACK: shelley_runyon@yahoo.com


DISCLAIMER: Of course all rights to Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling

- I only wish that Sirius and Remus were mine, other than in my heart!


DEDICATION: To my glorious, talented, wondrous and everlastingly sexy
inspiration - Gary Oldman - and to all those fans whose enthusiasm and kind words keep me going!



I, Sirius
Reflections of the Brightest Star

Chapter VI - New Beginnings, New Friends

Lest you think that I entered Hogwarts an ignorant unlettered savage, let me dispel that illusion right now. Regulus and I were tutored, starting from when I was about six or so. A succession of mealymouthed wizards, who cowered before my mother and were not exactly what I considered to be mines of information. There was a classroom set up on the third floor for our use, and to this very day I despise that room. I have never enjoyed being in it, not now any more than I did then. I suspect that Walburga gave each guardian of our education permission to do what was necessary to instill learning into our skulls (make that my skull, as I never saw my brother treated harshly, ever, unless that is simply the perspective of a child who refused to fit into their mold and cooperate in any way), although nothing nearly as harsh as that dealt out by my mother, later. Looking back, I concede that perhaps I was a bit.... difficult. But I didn't see it that way at the time. I already knew how to read. Numa says that I taught myself to do so about the age of two; I cut my teeth on the books contained in the Black family library - no happy primers these about playful children and their frolicking pets, but rather volumes on the dark arts, the history of the Black family as well as the wizarding world, tomes on alchemy and magic, etc.

I admit that I was probably a handful at times. And together Reg and I were probably sheer hell. But such is the nature of children, isn't it? I do remember Nymphadora as a very young girl - she was mischievous, and I encouraged her to morph - yes, even at times when she was forbidden to. But it came naturally to her, and I never saw the harm in it. Alright, I was an indulgent cousin. But until Harry was born, she was the closest thing to a child of my own I'd ever had. And I spoiled her something fierce. Remus did too, whether he admits to it or not. We babysat for her every chance we got, more so once I had left home (more about that later), took her riding on my motorcycle, carefully sandwiched between myself and Remus. Sometimes what Andromeda didn't know didn't hurt her, you know?

At any rate, Reg and I went through a few tutors in our time. We would go out of our way to see how fast we could get rid of each one, for Walburga invariably picked the most disgusting, spineless, boring twits she could find - we kept records of each one's coming and going, trying to outdo ourselves with the rapidity of their leaving. I think the shortest length of stay was maybe an hour? And she was the simplest to get rid of, too - a well placed snake in her handbag and she was out the door as if we'd lit a rocket up her ass. Of course we got punished for that. But it was worth it. I knew she was a horror the moment she stepped foot in the door - she was clad in pink, for Merlin's sake. And she had the most annoying twittery laugh.

But this all stopped on my eleventh birthday. The same day I lost my nanny, I was told that as I was going to Hogwarts, I had no more need of a tutor. So Reg and I were separated even more, because he now spent his time alone with the latest offering - and this one was still there when I left for school, maybe he didn't want to play the game without my active participation? It probably wasn't the same, I imagine. But I found myself left to my own devices. So I honed my cooking skills. And I read. And I pondered on the injustices of the world (ie my life, of course) and prayed that going to Hogwarts would be a good thing. Anything that took me out of Grimmauld had to be good, right?


And now I come at last to what was to become the single most important day in my entire life. Not that I realized it then, of course. I was just eleven, how could I be expected to understand such things? I hoped it would be important, of course, it was the day I was to go to Hogwarts, that mecca of magic for all young wizards, that much aspired to place where theoretically all one's hopes and dreams could come true. Maybe I exaggerate just a little bit, but I was hoping for a great deal from the school - the chance to learn real magic, to fulfill myself as a wizard, hopefully to make friends, and perhaps to do something that would earn some sort of recognition from my family, while at the same time removing me from the orbit of their day to day existence.

August 31, 1970.

Little did I realize when I awoke that morning the true significance which that date was to attain. I was excited and nervous both. Butterflies claimed my stomach to the point where I simply could not eat, and I pushed aside any thought of doing so, rationalizing that I could always eat on the train. I'd heard that there was food attainable there, so that seemed reasonable.

No one was to go with me to the station. King's Cross isn't all that far from Grimmauld, only about a mile or so. Easily walked, especially by a young sturdy lad, such as I was. My trunk was packed and ready to go and I simply dragged it along on its wheels. I did not expect to be seen off by any member of my family, and thus was not disappointed when they did not appear. I had a feeling my brother was watching me, though, and when I turned back once toward the house, glancing up at his window, I thought I saw the curtain rustle, nothing more.

I had packed everything I thought I would need, reasoning that I could send for anything I'd forgotten, but I couldn't imagine what that might be. This is an adventure, I kept telling myself, an awfully big adventure. The adventure of a lifetime. In my pocket I carried the best wishes of the only family member who had thought to remember the occasion - a small silver coin engraved with the words good luck, sent to me by my Uncle Alphard, one of my mother's brothers, but a decent one. He had owled it to me the day before, so I wouldn't set off for school emptyhanded, nor completely forgotten by my family. I thought that was rather decent of him, and I occasionally put my hand into my pocket just to ascertain its presence, taking comfort in the feel of the cool metal against my fingers.

I had heard stories already about the school, so I did have some idea of what to expect. I knew that there were four Houses, and that all students were sorted on the first night into one of the houses, the house which you were sorted into being determined by what sort of person you were. Ravenclaw was for those who preferred books to life, Gryffindor was for simpletons who considered themselves to be brave, Hufflepuff was for the misfits who didn't belong anywhere else and the only house that was worth a damn was Slytherin, where the loyal and the courageous were sorted. At least that is what I was told. But then again, consider the source - this was coming from my delightful cousin Bella and her slimy husband Rodolphus.

Which reminds me, I have completely neglected to mention the wedding of the summer which, o joy of joys, was held at - can you guess? - #12 Grimmauld Place. Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange were finally joined in unholy matrimony, for what that's worth, in the front parlour, family only (but with purebloods that covers a lot of territory, you know). And Him. The one and only Lord Voldemort. Let's hear it for Voldie, folks. The bastard. Acting as if he created the wizarding world himself, and was its one and only saviour. And the way they all fawned on him was sickening. The parlour was magically enlarged for the occasion, to hold all the guests, and to allow for dancing as well. What stands out in my mind most is watching Bella dance with him, and how everyone cozied up to him as if he were something special. That and I snuck my first taste of firewhiskey. Wine I was used to, but this was something completely different. Cissa and Reg and I got delightfully blitzed, and no one paid attention - and then I got my first kiss. And it was from Narcissa. I remember her giggling, and pulling me behind some statue or other and then she kissed me, plain and simple. Surprised, aren't you? Well, so was I, believe me. How did it feel, you ask? How do you think? It didn't. Feel, that is. Like anything. Which I put down to the fact that she was my cousin, after all, and I let it go at that, and I didn't really care, and I forgot about it for a long time afterwards. The bride and groom had left Hogwarts the year before, so at least I wasn't faced with running into them in the hallways, which I was grateful for. Andromeda was in her last year of school, being seventeen now, and Narcissa was fifteen and a fifth year. Both were in Slytherin, of course.

I had been told I'd be sorted into Slytherin, all the Blacks were, every generation, which didn't exactly fill me with great joy. I was sure that if the rest of the house were anything like Bella and Roddy, I'd be in trouble for sure. But it wasn't as if I would be given a choice in the matter, as it simply seemed destined to be, so what could I say? Que sera, sera. And maybe, just maybe things would turn out for the best. At least that's what I told myself when I reached the station. I already knew how to access Platform 9 3/4 - one advantage of having cousins that had already gone through the process - so I simply walked through the barrier and beheld the Hogwarts Express for the very first time.

The sight of that magnificent train, gleaming and shiny even in the midst of filthy London, was as a beacon to me, giving me hope for my future, that it might be a bright one. Maybe being a Slytherin wouldn't be so bad, right?

"Sirius! Sirius Black!"

I jerked my head around as I heard my name being called in a voice I did not recognize. A tousled head was sticking out of one of the train windows, and the face attached to it wore a mischievous grin. "Thought it was you," he added, as I began to scan my memory for some clue as to who this was.

And then it came to me, although of course he had changed in the few year's interim from when I had last seen him. James Potter. This wasn't so bad then, I thought, as a straw-colored head hove into view beside his, seeming to glance anxiously about as if he expected someone to yell at him for something. "James, I don't think we're allowed to do this...."

"Then don't, Pete," James said simply, winking at me. "Come on, we've got a car already snagged. Hoist that trunk and get a move on, why don't you mate?"

Why not indeed? I did just as he'd directed, for no other reason than I had nothing really better to do. Besides, I remembered that I'd liked him before, we'd gotten on well, so maybe I would have two ready made friends before we even reached the school. Hopefully we could all be sorted into Slytherin together.

I lugged my trunk onto the train, unsure once I was aboard just which direction they had hailed me from. But I was saved from being forced to randomly open doors along the corridor by James suddenly appearing , embracing me like a longlost friend. "Good to see you, mate," he cried, while the boy addressed as Pete hovered uncertainly in the doorway behind him. James couldn't help but notice the other boy's trepidation and he tried to reassure him. "Don't worry, they're cowards, they won't try to bully you again, especially now that Sirius is here." To my puzzled look, he added, "A couple of blokes were picking on Peter, I chased them off, no big deal."

Nothing fazed James Potter, he was always the confident one, the brash one, the undisputed leader - he could charm people and bend them to his will with just a smile or a few choice words - it was unbelievable. Amazing to watch even. He should never have been taken from us so soon. It wasn't right. But life doesn't always follow the rules, does it? Far from it. Far fucking from it. He should have lived to see his son grow up, maybe had other children, lived to rock his grandchildren in his arms, hear them call him granddad - he should have fucking lived.

James took my trunk and shoved it in the overhead compartment as we spilled into the car. Peter seemed to breathe a bit more easily once the door into the corridor was closed once more, as we settled ourselves for the ride to Hogwarts. "How's life at your house?" James asked sympathetically. I merely shrugged. Who wanted to talk about home? Surely not me.

"My parents were very excited that I got the invite to Hogwarts," he went on, "bet yours were too. I hope we get sorted into the same house, that would be cool, don't you think?"

"You want to be in Slytherin?" I asked hopefully. This wouldn't be at all bad, then.

"Slytherin?" he replied disdainfully. "No way. Gryffindor, of course. I wouldn't be caught dead in Slytherin, I've heard stories about that lot."

My heart sank at his words. I hoped he would at least speak to me once I was sorted into a different house.

But before I could reply to his words, the door slid open, and I heard the most amazing voice I'd ever heard as it asked, "Is there room for one more?" I glanced up, even as James replied in the affirmative. And that is when I beheld an angel.