All the young dudes

Chapter 3: Transformer

***

For as long as he's known him, Remus has understood that Sirius doesn't like being home. It becomes especially apparent over the summer. Their group of four has taken to writing letters by sending one long piece of parchment around for each of them to add to. They've got a system worked out— James, in Cornwall, gets it started, then it goes to Sirius and then to Remus, both in London, before heading up to Peter in Lancashire. Sirius' branch, despite being the closest in proximity to the one after, always takes the longest to arrive. It seems he's never home to get letters.

What Sirius' parents think of their twelve-year-old roaming around London all day Remus doesn't know, but that's apparently what he does. His two main haunts are a record shop fairly close to his house in Islington and the Lupins' flat, which isn't close at all. Remus wonders how he gets there; he never asks.

There are a couple of weeks in July when Sirius goes to visit James for the first time. When he gets back he sits with Remus at the table in the flat's tiny kitchen and tells him all about it, about their adventures in the Potters' sprawling country estate and in the neighbouring Muggle village. Sirius also talks a lot about how fantastic Mr and Mrs Potter are, how they're just what anybody could ever want in a mum and dad. Judging from his stories they adore him as well, and have taken his status as their son's new brother in stride.

Remus smiles as he listens. Sirius deserves to have adults in his life who love him, even if they can't be his own parents.

Apropos of nothing much, Sirius says, "He's convinced he's gonna think of something to help."

"Help what?"

"You know what."

Remus sighs. "He's not still on that, is it?"

"More than ever." Sirius leans back in his chair, tilting it on two legs as is his habit. "Wouldn't stop talking about it. 'Black'," and he goes into a dopey voice that's supposed to approximate James, "'there are two things I'm gonna do this year: get on the Quidditch team, and help Remus.' Always on about it. I expect you'll hear all about it as soon as we get back."

Remus looks at the floor, studies the yellow and tan tile. "What, exactly, does he think he's going to do?"

"I dunno. Neither does he. He's convinced inspiration's gonna strike."

"And you told him that he's kidding himself, right?"

"You ever tried telling James Potter he's wrong?"

***

It's all Lily Evans' fault.

James was having a great day before she got involved. It was Quidditch trials this morning, and weather conditions were perfect: a clear, crisp September day with the lightest breeze. James scored fourteen goals and outflew all the competition, most of whom were years older than him. He was feeling great when he headed up into the stands to join the onlookers, accepting praise and high-fives with his usual humility.

"Did you see me out there?" he said as he dropped down next to Remus, shoving aside somebody or another. "I'm a bloody shoo-in! Unfair to all these other wannabes, really."

"Very impressive."

"Point one on my to-do list was easy. It's on to the second, now."

"Don't tell me—"

"You watch," James said. "I'm gonna think of something for your, er. This furry little problem of yours."

And of course it just bloody figures that the person on his other side happened to be—