All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Sixth Year : The Big, Bad Wolf

Sunday 15th January 1977

Sleep did nothing to cool his anger. If anything, it made it worse—Sirius woke the next morning with rage calcified, like bone, in his chest. He slammed the bathroom door, brushed his teeth until his gums bled, spat blood down the drain of the shower. His magic crackled just beneath the surface of his skin, and he nearly singed his eyebrows off when he used a heating charm to dry his hair. When he stormed back into their room, scowling, James shot him a reproachful look.

“Come on, mate, Moony’s sleeping.”

“I don’t care,” Sirius growled, yanking his school robes out of his wardrobe and slamming the door shut. James tutted.

“Right. Let’s go down to the common room, then, come on.”

“I don’t want to go down to the—”

“Black.”

James was frowning at him, arms crossed and brows raised in an expression that was painfully reminiscent of Euphemia. Sirius deflated, slightly.

“Fine,” he grumbled, grabbing his school bag off the floor and casting one last furious glare back at the drawn curtains around Remus’s bed before stomping down the stairs after James.

The common room was mostly empty—just a few fifth years in the corner, talking quietly about a Transfiguration essay. Peter was already sitting near the fireplace, setting up a chess board, and he glanced up when they walked through the door.

“Oh, you got him to come down.”

James smiled, tightly, and Sirius’s scowl deepened—Peter gulped and turned quickly back to his chess game.

Sirius began to pace in front of the fireplace, magic still buzzing in his blood—he wanted to smash something. James, settling down in the armchair across from Peter, frowned, as if he could sense Sirius’s thoughts.

“You alright there, mate?”

“No,” Sirius spat, whirling. He didn’t understand how his friends could be so calm. “I can’t believe he bloody left like that!”

James nodded sympathetically, moving a pawn absentmindedly on the board. Peter’s eyes lit up, like he knew he had already won.

“I mean, it was a right shitty thing to do, going off on his own…what the hell did he think he was playing at??”

“I know, mate,” James said, watching Peter move a bishop, “We were all worried.”

“And then just—going to sleep, not even fucking talking to us—”

“Check!” Peter shouted, gleefully. Sirius spun on him, glaring,

“Shut up Peter, nobody cares about your stupid obsession with chess!”

“Oi!” James said sharply, as Peter shrank back.

“Well, it’s true! He’s acting like nothing even happened!”

“I was worried, too,” Peter protested, defensively.