All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

First Year : Revenge

Regulus didn’t write him back.

Sirius waited all week for a letter, but nothing came. Worse than that—his owl never returned; after a few days, he broke down and asked Narcissa, who smirked and told him it had been confiscated. Sirius tried not to worry, but it felt like there was a stone in the pit of his stomach. More and more often, he found his thoughts wandering back to Reg, wondering how his brother was doing…

The solution, of course, was to keep his mind occupied at all times with other things. He made bets with James about who could finish their homework first. He played chess with Peter, over and over again, until he finally won. He watched Remus, who had finally begun to spend time with them, trying to puzzle out the odd boy’s secrets.

On Sunday evening, Sirius’s distraction of choice was their transfiguration essay for McGonagall. Fourteen inches of parchment—James and Sirius raced to see who could finish theirs first (Sirius) while Peter tried desperately to keep up. Remus just relaxed into the plush armchairs of the Gryffindor common room, watching them all as though he couldn’t be bothered with something as silly as homework.

“So,” James said, setting down his quill, “How are we going to get them back?”

“Get who back?” Peter asked. He was searching through his notes, looking for a page that he had accidentally elbowed onto the floor earlier without realising. Sirius sighed and ducked under the table.

“The Slytherins.” James hissed, “Keep up, Pete.”

Peter whispered back, sounding worried, “Not all of the Slytherins, only Snape and Mulciber, right?”

Under the table, Sirius rolled his eyes. “All of them,” He said firmly, sitting back up and presenting a piece of parchment, “This what you were looking for?”

“Thanks!” Peter grabbed it, relieved, “I’ve nearly finished…”

“Have you done it, Lupin?” Sirius asked casually, looking over. Remus had left his book open on the table, but he hadn’t glanced at it once. In fact, over the course of the week Sirius had noticed that Remus never seemed to look at his books. Everyone else seemed to have forgotten Mulciber’s comment about reading, but Sirius hadn’t.  

“Nah,” Remus shrugged, nonchalant, “Can’t be bothered.”

Sirius frowned. It couldn’t be true, could it? “Let us know if you need help.”

“You can copy mine if you want.” James said helpfully, pushing his essay across the desk. Sirius watched as Remus attempted to stifle his irritation—his jaw clenched, and his brow furrowed slightly.

“I’m fine. I’m not stupid.”

“No one said you were.” James replied, acting as if he couldn’t hear the bite in Remus’s tone. Sirius continued to study Remus’s expression; his entire face had clouded over. On the armrest of his chair, his fist was clenched. Sirius remembered how he had thrown himself across the potions table to punch Snape.

When Sirius looked back up, their eyes met. Remus released a short breath, unclenching his fist, and said,

“We could put itching powder in their beds.” He seemed eager to change the subject, “Or on their clothes… if we could figure out who does the laundry, anyway.”