All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

First Year : Secrets

Friday, 17th September, 1971

James’s owl returned empty-handed (empty-taloned?), not even a scrap of paper tied to her leg. Sirius tried not to show how much this upset him. Surely Reg wasn’t ignoring him—probably, their parents had forbidden Sirius’s brother from writing to him, further punishment for his failed Sorting. But this line of thought didn’t make Sirius feel any better, as it only set him wondering how Reg was doing, and whether he was alright all by himself.

It was the first time in either of their lives that the boys had been separated (well, aside from one year when Sirius was a baby, before Reg was born, and he didn’t remember any of that), and even at Hogwarts, surrounded by other students, Sirius missed his brother. He would find himself thinking about a joke he’d heard that Reg would particularly enjoy, or about how scared Reg might be if he heard the rumours about the monster hidden in the castle. His little brother had always been a bit of a cry baby. Sometimes, lying alone in his bed at night, Sirius would remember how when he and Reg were little they’d sneak into each other’s rooms, whispering until they fell asleep next to each other. On those nights, Sirius felt hollow with loneliness, even surrounded by three other boys.

So although he did his best to hide it, Sirius was in a sour mood all day. He had never been very subtle with his emotions—he snapped at Peter in the morning, and was snippy even with James. Remus seemed to sense his bad mood and steered clear of him, hardly saying two words to Sirius throughout their classes and eventually abandoning them for another one of his detentions.

Finally, after a particularly snide remark towards Peter during a game of exploding snap, James had had enough.

“Oi, either play nice or tell us what’s bothering you, but you can’t keep sulking all weekend!” The words were spoken firmly, although Sirius had a sense that James was trying not to be too harsh.

Still, it stung. Sirius huffed, feeling very sorry for himself—first his own brother refused to speak to him, and now James was having a go!

“Fine,” he stood angrily, “I’ll piss off then!” He stormed off to their room, waiting for James to come after him—but he didn’t.

By the time they were all getting ready for bed, Sirius could see that he’d been a bit of a prick, and was feeling embarrassed about the whole thing. Tell us what’s bothering you, James had said. And while he certainly wasn’t going to tell Peter, Sirius realised that he did want to talk to someone.

He waited, once more, until the other boys were tucked into bed. After all the curtains had been shut, he tiptoed over to James, pulling back the curtain sheepishly.

“Sirius?”

James sat up, blinking, and fumbled for his glasses, “Alright, mate?”

“Yeah, sorry, er…d’you mind if I…”

“Yeah, yeah, come in!”

Sirius let the curtain fall shut behind him, closing them in. For a moment, the two boys only looked at each other. Sirius turned away first, glancing down and fiddling nervously with a crease in the blanket.

“I just, um…Just wanted to say sorry, I s’pose. For being a prick.”

“Thanks mate, I know you didn’t mean it.” When Sirius looked back up, James was smiling encouragingly. He attempted a weak smile in return.