All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Second Year : Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

Sirius liked attention. Hell—he loved it. He loved the rush of knowing that people were watching him, looking to him, noticing him. He loved performing, and he loved an audience. Normally, if the entire school was whispering about him, he’d hold his head high and strut through the halls with a smirk, drinking it in.  

By the end of his first day back after Christmas break, that could not be further from the truth. Everyone knew about his new hairstyle (lack of hair to style), and Sirius wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” James lied, watching as he scrutinized his reflection. They were hiding in the empty second floor girls’ loos during lunch to spare him from the staring.

Sirius knew that James was just trying to be nice, so he refrained from rolling his eyes. It was really bad; anyone with eyes could see that. Sirius had never thought of himself as particularly vain, but he had always known he was good-looking—he just hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed knowing that he was good-looking until it was taken away. Without his hair to frame his face, he was too pale, eyes overlarge, features too sharp. He hated it.

Sirius continued to stare at himself, reaching up absentmindedly to rub his head. Peter let out a nervous laugh,

“You look like Lupin.”

James nodded quickly, latching on to anything that might make his friend feel better,

“Yeah, you do a bit.”

Despite himself, Sirius smiled. He liked the idea of having something in common with Remus, like the two of them were in a club that set them apart from everyone else.

“Oh yeah, I think I see it,” he joked, reaching out to pull his friend over into the mirror’s frame. They stood side by side, staring at each other. “We could be brothers.”

Remus laughed, distracting Sirius from his own reflection.

His real brother was waiting outside the Gryffindor common room later that evening. Reggie was sitting on the floor, knees folded against his chest, staring into space. His creepy little friend, Barty Crouch, was leaning against the opposite wall. He seemed bored, lazily levitating a paper aeroplane with his wand.

Sirius frowned. He didn’t like his brother’s friend—Crouch had a mean streak longer than the tables in the Great Hall, and usually seemed happiest when he was tormenting one of his classmates. He was a bad influence on Reg, who’d become more sullen and judgmental since they’d started hanging out.

His brother stood up as they approached, lifting his chin haughtily as he eyed Sirius’s friends. Sirius scowled at him, and the arrogant expression faltered slightly,

“There you are,” Reg said, trying to sound imperious—but he was nervous, Sirius could tell. He kept glancing over at James. Crouch sent the paper plane circling around their heads, staring.

“What d’you want?” Sirius asked, gruffly. He was in no mood to talk with his brother.

“Just seeing if you’re…seeing how you are.”

“No different from last night.”

“I didn’t see you at dinner.”