All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Second Year : A Birthday Engagement

Friday 3rd November 1972

Of course, James Potter forgave easily, and when Sirius finally did congratulate him, it was as though the entire meltdown had never happened. It still stung a bit, seeing James go off to practices without him, but Remus had given Sirius a lot to think about. He didn’t want to push away his friends, or let his own emotional turmoil spill over onto other people. A victory for one marauder was a victory for them all; by the time his thirteenth birthday rolled around, Sirius was determined to enter his teenage years with a more mature outlook.

The day kicked off with a rowdy round of “Happy Birthday” at breakfast, which by this point had become a tradition for the marauders. The Potters’ owl flew in to drop off a huge basket of chocolates from Fleamont and Euphemia, and James had ordered half of the Zonko’s catalogue as a birthday present. Even more exciting was Remus’s gift; he shyly passed over a small stack of muggle magazines, Melody Maker and NME. They were full of articles about muggle music, artists that Sirius had never heard of before, and one even had an interview with Marc Bolan. They spent most of breakfast flipping through the pages, laughing at the unmoving pictures and admiring the strange and gaudy outfits that the rockstars wore.

Sirius was in high spirits as they finished their meal, grinning as they made their way to their first lesson. But it wasn’t to last—as they went to leave the Great Hall, they found their way blocked.

“Sirius.” A familiar voice said.

The last time Sirius had spoken to his cousin was during her sister’s wedding that summer. At fifteen, Narcissa still had a good six inches on him, and she looked down her nose at his friends with disgust. She’d dyed and straightened her hair, one long platinum sheet, which still threw him off every time he saw her. It wasn’t—well, very Black of her, trying to stand out like that.

Even worse, Reggie was skulking at her side, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. He’d started hanging out more with Snape and that Crouch kid, which infuriated Sirius to no end. He’d tried to talk to his brother about it a few times, but their conversations now always seemed to end with one of them yelling at the other. Eventually, they’d just stopped speaking.

“Cissy,” Sirius nodded briskly, refusing to acknowledge Reg. His cousin flinched at the nickname.

“It’s your birthday,” She said, in the same tone of voice someone might use to say, It’s time to muck out the owlery, or It’s flobberworm-dissection day.

“Well, I was aware.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t snap at him the way Bellatrix would have. Narcissa had always been less intense than her sister.

“You’re to eat with us this evening.”

“Come and sit at the Gryffindor table if you absolutely have to.”

“No.” She narrowed her grey eyes, “Your mother has given strict instructions. We’ll eat privately, in the Slytherin common room, like last year.”

“No!” Sirius insisted, frustrated, “I want to eat with my friends.” His parents weren’t even here—Narcissa could just lie and say they’d eaten together if she really wanted to! He hated the way his family kept trying to push him around.