Chapter Text
Part I. Blimey, What a First Impression…
Sirius is going to tear a trench in the Hogwarts Express with his pacing.
As his best mate, James strives to be sympathetic, but it’s a damn struggle once he starts muttering under his breath and snapping his fingers. Accompanied by the squeak of his athletic shoes with every sharp turn, Sirius is becoming a mighty annoyance in the small, cramped compartment. Peter’s face is set in an ugly grimace, while Remus if he’s bothered at all, doesn’t show it. He keeps his pleasant front and even offers Sirius a chocolate frog, which gets promptly ripped apart in two bites.
They all knew this day would come.
Sirius’ younger siblings, a boy and girl twins, are starting Hogwarts. And Sirius is bloody terrified.
To be fair, he’s been nervous throughout summer, particularly the last couple of weeks that he spent with the Potters. It was a stay out of a desire to avoid his bigoted parents, but in turn, he went and ditched his siblings on their first school day.
The rest of the Marauders tried to reason with him that he wasn’t ditching them. Just. Not coming to the train station together. They could still meet at Hogwarts, most likely after the twins settled in their house dorms. No one mentioned the feast because there’d been a collective assumption on which house the twins would sort to. Certainly, a pair of newly minted snakes wouldn’t want to associate with the Black family’s black sheep publicly.
Perhaps that’s what Sirius is most worried about.
Because he adores the twins.
They were his first loves – he once eloquently explained – his first responsibilities and his first priorities.
He’d go on endless rants if they were brought up as a subject; even an accidental mention of siblings, a touch of that s-word, and Sirius would regale everyone and anything of their adorable baby cheeks and large eyes, bright silver akin to his own, their natural pouts when studying, how they’d hang onto every word of Sirius’ embellished takes on muggle folk heroes, their reactions to trying gingerbread and sod it all. There were far too many.
His stories about them were always years old. Since his wicked sorting into Gryffindor, Orion and Walburga Black had done every trick in the book to save the twins from his horrid influence.
With only a few supervised meetings during the summers and zero letters to speak of, does Sirius still know his siblings?
James knows he’s trying to be optimistic for their reunion, for an enjoyable school year without their parents breathing down their spines, but it may just be a lost cause. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black has deep-rooted beliefs in pure-blood supremacy, and two pre-teens are practically sponges. No matter how adorable and earnest they were to Sirius’ openness to muggles, to his stories and care, what defenses did they have once he was out of the picture? Especially if they were consistently force-fed by their parents to hate anyone deemed lesser and unworthy?
Just like Sirius. Like him, specifically.
Sirius has mentioned overhearing talks about stripping him of his heirship to his little brother, who’s shy and meek, more moldable for their parents’ agendas. That kind of pressure could topple whatever familial affection the three children had. After all, love is a strong emotion and may be easily twisted into hate. (Just look at Lily Evans and Snivellus.)
And him, who’s feeling a vein pop at the sudden “f*ck! Bloody hell, f*ck, f*ck –”
Blimey, forget mad mutterings, Sirius has peaked on the anxiety level to shouting expletives.
He knows Sirius is just trying to get all the nervous energy out before he comes face to face with the twins, but the train hasn’t even left the station. And again, they’re in a small cramped compartment. At this rate, they’re going to be subject to their screeching mate for the two-hour train ride and more.
Sirius is already a lot on a normal day, a right mixture of mischief and crass bravery. It’s never a dull moment with him.
But this? This is a premonition of bloody torture.
“Damn it, mate. Calm down.” James snaps.
He’d intended to color his words with reassurance, with a promise of comradeship, that no matter the outcome, he and the others would always take Sirius’ side. When Sirius claps back with a “f*ck off, bastard,” he scowls.
Internally, he winces. That wasn’t what…
Damn his bloody mouth. His parents have called him out on it before, the constant marrying of his foot in his mouth.
Thankfully, Remus jumps in, reliably noticing the mounting tension – he’s always got some sharp senses – and unsurprisingly recommending some chocolate for it; he’s got a never-ending craving that’d rival Willy Wonka’s. James bets the bloke could drain the chocolate factory dry by himself easily. The snack cart had already passed their compartment, as evident by Remus’ already full pockets of chocolate bars, but James would track down the thing himself just to seize a break from the Black’s mad pacing and shouting.
“Go on, Sirius,” says Remus. Compared to James, his voice is soft and encouraging. “There’s still time before the train takes off, anyways.”
“That’s…” Sirius trails off, and James tenses for the aggressive refusal. But the passing seconds, wherein Sirius does some weird eye contact standoff with Remus, result in him folding. He sighs heavily. “Fine, goddammit. You all want bloody anything?”
Oooh, nice.
Whoopie doo. Not just a break, where James can remain in his seat, but also Sirius becoming an errand boy? Thank Merlin.
Everyone rattles off their request, and Sirius accepts it all with begrudging grace. Of course, not without some scattered judgemental comments here and there; “chocolate frogs are not f*cking superior to honey-duke dark chocolate, take that back, Remus,” and “Pumpkin pastry, really? James, those things are flaky and get everywhere,” and “… licorice wands. Licorice. Do you even have functioning taste buds?”
With his focus now intent on the snack cart, he promptly swivels out.
Right into an unexpected turn of events.
“Siri, I found you!”
James doesn’t see who calls out to Sirius, but he fully witnesses when they tackle him – well, more like, bear hug him – back stumbling into the compartment. Sirius catches himself on the door with an “oof!” as he gapes down at his assailant. A young girl, based on the voice and dainty arms wrapped tight around his midriff.
James’ first assumption is an admirer of the budding Casanova that Sirius is.
But then that breaks when the girl lifts her head, and she bears the same silver eyes and crooked smirk as his best mate.
“... Cassie?”
Sirius’ little sister’s grin stretches, beaming, and radiating such joy that James has to squint. Both to avoid blinding himself and in disbelief that such a happy girl could come from that Walburga bit – ch, um, witch… (A subtle check that his parents are not around, which duh, but also necessary after the tongue-lashing he got over the summer when they received his less-than-stellar grades and his stellar list of disciplinary actions. Once reassured –) Yeah, that damn bitch of a witch.
“Cass, you shouldn’t run on the train. Bless Merlin that no prefects are present in this car otherwise, I fear Father and Mother would send howlers before we even make way.”
A calm voice rings as a young boy of similar coloring appears behind the girl. He’s practically a copy of Sirius, though several shades paler and with more delicate details, like with his longer lashes and thinner lips.
Sirius’ little brother gives a nod. “Brother Sirius, a pleasure to see you. It’s been a while.”
James winces. That’s not how a normal eleven-year-old speaks or holds themselves, back ramrod straight and not a crease in his expensive silk. By all means, he’s the image of a little noble, proud and reserved, an unfeeling mask except for the small frown marring his face and his twitching brows above a narrowed gaze at – huh. Snapping his head back towards Sirius, he finds the girl – Cass, Cassie? – sticking her tongue out at the little brother.
James has to blink twice at her, his brain unable to compute what he’s seeing, but that’s a tongue. A tongue being stuck out by the only daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
“Too formal, Reggie.” She hisses lowly but far too loud in such an enclosed space.
“It’s appropriate to pay respects.” He rebukes. “At least I did not address him as Heir Black as that’s the true societal expectations –”
“Good, because I would’ve gagged. We’re not at some fancy party, no need to bring your archaic 17th-century tongue here.” And she proceeds to fake a gag, all the while still curled around Sirius.
What the bloody hell?
“Archaic 17th century – ry tongue, you – what.” The boy’s brows are twitching again. “This is how I normally speak.”
“Gross.”
“Cass, you have also been taught what’s appropriate. Now release Brother Sirius so we can properly greet –”
“Not until you stop speaking like some obese diplomat.”
“Again, this is my normal speech. I speak the same both in private and public. Is there a problem you have with me…” He glances over the full compartment, in which none of the Marauders are disguising their full attention on the sibling trio. “... such that you wish to address them before a crowd?”
Despite the boy lowering his voice to a whisper, likely conscious of their audience, the girl bulldozes on through. “You bet I have problems with you. Like – oh, I don’t know – how I don’t understand you half the time? And don’t you dare say I’ve never complained about this to you before, I’ve done it at least thirty times. Thirty, you hear! I’m not a Webster’s dictionary. I’m at my wit’s end because of you – for a long time coming – so, since you obviously only listen to someone of higher standing rather than your beloved and well-meaning twin –” She looks imploringly up towards Sirius, a finger pointed at her twin. “Are you hearing this, Siri? You don’t like how pompous Reggie sounds too, right? Fix him.”
Regulus looks like he wants to smack the offending finger away, but propriety stops him at the last second. “Lies, she is lying, Brother Sirius. Please disregard her. Disregard everything about her. She understands my words, otherwise, our tutors would’ve never praised her.” Turning from a gaping Sirius, he hisses at the girl. “The true problem is that you simply choose not to listen to me.”
“There is power in speech, dear Reggie. The delivery of a message is as important as its content. Would you speak the same to Grandfather as you would to an infant? No, right? Remember this very important lesson from your older sister –”
“You are no infant, and we are twins. The mere minutes that separate us do not warrant some kind of heightened wisdom.”
“Are you calling me daft?” The girl gasps, one hand clutching her heart.
“Daft? Nonsense. That’s cute.” And here, the little lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black scoffs. He scoffs. Such an undignified sound passes his lips. “I was thinking more along the lines of a gormless little twit –”
“Why must you always adopt muggle-born insults towards me? Moreover, pot, meet kettle. You – you old meanie! You Kreacher-obsessed gold – silvery boy – with uh, a gross silver tongue! Why do you have one already? That’s gross!”
He rolls his eyes, propriety completely broken. “How is it that your vocabulary drops even further when you are incensed?”
Cassie – James slots the pet name in his head – is a bloody riot.
He knows from Sirius that her name is long and star-themed as all Black spawn are, but he can’t associate such a boring name with this adorable girl. It’d be an insult from a troublemaker to a fellow troublemaker.
The corner of his lips curls upwards despite his caution. Because even if her exuberance is a front, he can appreciate her complete disregard for decorum. For how much James has cringed at being addressed as Heir Potter, Sirius hates his title thousands more. Regardless, his super-traditional parents would still demand them of it. So, this squabble? Instigated by the Black children themselves? This isn’t something Cassie can fake, especially before all these witnesses. None of them are tattletales, but no Orion or Walburga pure-blood agenda could make her falsely act like this; this is way too self-destructive of a scheme towards their oh holy Black prestige just to get people’s guards down.
The younger brother seems to be a stickler for the rules, giving off vibes James gets from prefects – ugh, those fun-sucking seniors – but the banter appears to be the norm for the twins. There’s a teasing edge on Cassie’s lips, and Regulus shows no sign of actual aggression in his body language. Cassie seems like a positive influence in breaking him out of his shell. Even as Cassie ducks behind Sirius, using him as a physical barrier against her twin who, despite his regal demeanor, shows his irritation with an intent step forward. As if he wants to loom with his bare three centimeters height he has over her. It’s a crack in the noble visage he holds, but a crack all the same.
“You two, why, why are you…?” Mouth agape, Sirius looks well lost of words as his siblings circle him. As if something too good to be true is before him, and he’s now terrified he’ll shatter the illusion.
James understands. A whole summer of worries and worst-case scenarios, and here, the subjects of them are, breaking all that within minutes. None of them could have anticipated this.
“Cease making a nuisance of yourself, Cass. Not only will you attract unwanted attention, it is unbecoming –”
“You’re unbecoming! Stop chasing me!”
“If you simply, hah, stop and follow my advice, I would see no need to. In addition, a young lady such as yourself should not interrupt others at every o – opportunity…”
“And a nobleman should not be wearing heels higher than a lady’s!” To James’ amusem*nt, it’s obvious which twin has the better physicality as Cassie has to abort her circle of Sirius and swivel back when it seems like she is going to run toward a groaning Regulus.
“Slander! Our shoes are regulated to school standards. There are no elevations to speak of!” Regulus sputters out, panting. “You are seeking distractions with your accusations… ha, r – rather than addressing the primary topic of your faults… Even now, you choose not to listen to me. Do you see what I must deal with every waking hour, Brother Sirius?”
“Hey, now! Don’t you dare – !”
The twins both turn beseechingly up at Sirius, their words blending. “You’re on my side, right? She / He is the one in the wrong.”
Blimey.
James wishes Sirius ran the errand and grabbed more snacks; some popcorn and chocolate frogs would be a delight during this brilliant show.
For the first time since James met Sirius, he’s never seen him this speechless, this overwhelmed; still, it doesn’t surprise him when he lunges to engulf them both in tight hugs. Sirius has always moved before thinking things through and letting his actions speak louder than words.
Instead, what truly surprises him is how the twins melt into the hug, faces tucked against either side of Sirius’ shoulders. Cassie doesn’t waste time wrapping her arms around him in return, while Regulus reciprocates demurely, his pale hand gripping the edge of Sirius’ robes. Sirius is quite athletic and broad, a testament to his insane quidditch plays, such that aside from two small black crowns and dainty arms, the older brother has engulfed his siblings from view.
It’s a couple of moments later that Sirius composes himself to step away. James politely ignores his best mate’s red-rimmed eyes and stubborn close proximity to the twins. The three Blacks are practically standing atop each other.
“Anyways, uh, introductions. We should do those,” coughs Sirius.
Not necessary – the Marauders would likely recognize the twins on sight, even without their older copy of their best mate beside them – but nobles are raised on salutations.
“This is Cassie,” he says with an affectionate ruffle of her curly hair. In return, she leans into the touch with a bright grin. “And Reggie.” The boy dodges the head pat, but Sirius’ good mood goes undeterred. “He’s a bit shy.”
Shy would not be the word James would describe him, but stupidly besotted older brothers are stupid.
“And, of course, there are these prats, who are, unfortunately, my best mates. From the left, there’s Peter.” The ducking of his head is more out of awkward bashfulness than a greeting. “And Remus. He always has a stash of chocolate on him.” Showcasing his kindly nature, Remus readily takes out two bars from his pockets and extends them towards the twins; Cassie happily snatches her gift, stashing it into her robes, while Regulus refuses with a hand up.
To finish off the count, Sirius turns towards James. “And that’s –”
“Wait a bit. There’s no need to introduce him, Siri,” says Cassie. A seriousness suddenly befalls her for the first time since she intruded the compartment. It’s such a drastic change from the happy-go-lucky girl James has coined her as, that makes him blink. He can feel the other Marauders tensing. “James Potter… Yes, we’ve heard of you. Quite often. Siri literally never stops talking about you.”
And yet, none of her words imply her appreciation of it.
The contradiction seems to have carried to the little brother too, because, despite his carefully blank face, there’s a glint in those silver eyes. One that he, of all people, would recognize. It bears mischievousness and all too much eagerness to fan flames.
“Brother Sirius said you are like a brother to him,” Regulus adds.
With a gasp, Cassie pounces and wraps her arms around Sirius’ waist. “He said that, didn’t he? I remember that! But no, he can’t! Siri’s our brother first, and I don’t want another brother!”
Sirius gapes. “Huh? Wait, what – Cassie –”
“No more brothers, Siri! You and Reggie are enough. I want a sister!” Cassie wails, actually wails, into Sirius’ robes.
“That’s unfortunate because I refuse another sister. I fear Cass would excel at tainting them. Better my poor could’ve-been favorite sister remains far away for her sanity and prosperity.” Regulus’ comment does zero to help this situation, and he knows it too by the way he turns away from Cassie’s glare.
What a day to see Sirius being the mediator, to be de-escalating rather than his usual brand as the instigator of chaos. James never thought it was possible.
“Hey, hey, don’t fight,” says Sirius, with a hurried pat on Cassie’s head. “James is a nice bloke, an amazing quidditch player, and one of my best mates. You’ll like him. He can be your big brother, too. C’mon, you’ve greeted the others properly, won’t you greet James too…?”
Which, even to James can’t-read-the-room Potter, is the absolutely wrong thing to say.
There’s a reason parents ease their first child into getting a younger sibling rather than drop the baby on their lap and pray for the best. Like his fool of a best mate just did.
The outcry from both twins is very much expected and James watches amusingly as Sirius scrambles to shoot down their accusations, “No, of course not, I’m not replacing Reggie –” and “I’m not forcing anything! Ugh, damn it – how about this, you don’t have to like him right away so how about getting to know him slowly…?” and “You’re right, you’re right, I have told you about him. You’ve got a good memory, Reggie … That’s… I have said that… blimey. Okay, fine, you’re right. He’s a bloody prankster and horrible flirt and an annoying rascal and mean sometimes, but I’m kinda like that too and you like me, right? … What do you mean ‘not always?!’ I’m your big brother!”
What the bloody hell is Sirius doing?
Sirius always lovingly praises the twins to them, and in return, he’s full of complaints about him?
Remus seated beside him looks like he’s going to blow, barely disguising his snickers as coughs behind his hand. Peter just looks constipated, eyes darting between him and the Blacks like an overactive snitch.
If he isn’t the main subject of the siblings’ back and forth, James suspects he’d be drop dead on the ground cackling, but James is a good best mate. He can’t be losing his brain laughing in case he needs to step in to help Sirius. (He’s too used to being a shield for Sirius before the other Blacks. He can’t just drop all caution despite the bursts of amusem*nt and fondness.)
“... I understand, Siri. It seems we may not convince you otherwise of this relationship.” Ignoring Sirius’ sputter – “Relationship? What relationship? Me and James, that bastard? No, no, no, don’t call what we have a bloody relationship, that sounds so wrong.” – Cassie turns towards James with a determined look. “James Potter. My name is Cassiopeia Nebula Black, the only young lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. You may address me as Miss Black, not the Cassie that Siri introduced me as. That is a pet name privy to just family.” As if James hasn’t already called her by that in his head multiple times and has no intentions to stop. “If you desire to be my brother’s brother, then you must know all there is to know about him. Do you acknowledge that?”
“Of course,” James answers. He has no idea what’s going on, but it’d be against his very nature to go against chaos. And Cassie is the most chaotic incarnate being since Sirius, perhaps more.
“I admire your lack of hesitation and pray you maintain that for the questioning. In consideration of Siri’s constant flattery of you, I shall start easy so answer me well.” Sucking in a deep breath, Cassie demands. “What are Siri’s favorite foods? His preferred tea? And the dessert to pair with it?”
What.
Of all things –
James wants to laugh. Oh, Merlin, he wants to laugh so much. But the eleven-year-old girl looks so serious. Straightened posture and squishy scowls, she’s just a doll playing dress up as a hardened judge. It’s bloody adorable.
But her questions, blimey, he doesn’t –
“Must you always be ruled by your stomach?” Of all the people to save him, he doesn’t expect Regulus. “Anyone with eyes can see it’s a filet mignon, stuffed with truffles and topped with a red wine sauce variety, black tea mixed with creamy vanilla oolong and lavender, no additional cream or sugar, and shame on you with the trick question. Brother Sirius doesn’t go for desserts. He’d consume a bag full of honeydukes dark chocolate instead.”
“Shut up, Reggie! He could have not known that!”
Which, Cassie’s right. They’re best mates, ride or die ‘till the end, but James has little care for what Sirius likes on his plate as long as the fool doesn’t steal anything from his own.
Rolling his eyes, Regulus says. “Brother Sirius is constant and predictable with his cuisine choices. I suggest another topic for the questioning.”
“Fine.” Cassie huffs, pondering for a moment. She brightens with a snap of her fingers. “I got it, then, then, tell us of when Siri braved the winter storm to secure us a master’s prized gingerbread dessert. If you know him well, you must know of this classic undertaking.”
Oh yeah, James knows this story. All the Marauders have heard it at least ten times.
It’s a common instance of the rebellious older brother wanting to give new experiences to his sheltered siblings. Except, what master? Sirius just bought a muggle’s dessert sold aplenty during Christmas; the common British-born could make a stellar gingerbread man in their sleep. What winter storm? That winter didn’t even have ice on the ground, just dreary cold rain, though James isn’t surprised by the embellishment. The only people he’d puff up like a peaco*ck for other than a voluptuous lady would be the twins.
James dutifully recites Sirius’ story, grinning at Cassie’s pinched face.
At its end, practically verbatim to his best mate’s telling, she grouses. “Not bad.” She places her hands on her hips. “However, as I said, that was a classic. Even Siri’s acquaintances would know of it. As such, surely you would know when Siri conquered a violent sentient tree and was rewarded its golden branch in acknowledgment of his reflexes and strength?”
James knows this, as well.
Bloody hell, he was bloody there when the knob climbed the Whomping Willow in their first year. The dangerous thing was golden then, the autumn season bringing out brilliant colors.
And Sirius, the daft sod, thought the twins would just love one of its branches.
Partly out of a desire for adventure, he suspects, and the rest is fueled by desperation.
His disastrous sorting into Gryffindor brought with it the complete absence of letters from his siblings. Fearful of being ostracized from his first loves, with shaking and bruised hands, he had sent the hard-won branch into a letter that never received a response. A glance at Sirius’ surprised delight tells them that the twins at least received it all those years ago. If they purposely didn’t reply or their horrid parents interfered, James doesn’t know. His best mate was a pitiful sad sack back then, but hearing Cassie bring up the story herself is a balm to first-year James’ righteous anger on his behalf.
Therefore, he regales them on Sirius’ incredibly stupid decision to combat a tree famous for breaking bones without a damn wand. Remus chimes in with Sirius’ hilarious impression of a cicada when he scaled the tree’s trunk, complete with the bug’s loud exclamations that somehow didn’t attract the entire student body. James would’ve loved it if this stunt had been plastered on the front page of the school’s newsletter; more people should know of Sirius’ dumbassery.
James observes Cassie as she listens. She’s obviously trying not to portray how engrossed she is, not wanting to acknowledge James’ close relationship with her beloved older brother, but the eleven-year-old girl is an open book. She just can’t stop breaking out in a wide grin every so often.
Cassie coughs. “I – I see. First and foremost, thank you for bringing Siri to the infirmary following that, um, excitement.”
“If you are curious, our house elf placed a preservation charm on the golden branch,” says Regulus. “Though how it was acquired less than preferable, it stands beautifully amongst other furnishings within our private study room.”
Sirius laughs delightfully. “You two kept it,” wrapping an arm around Regulus’ shoulders, “Thanks for taking care of it, really –”
“You’re absolutely welcome! We really love it, but no fluffy feelings yet.” Cassie interjects, wiggling between her siblings and placing a finger on Sirius’ chest. She looks imploringly up at him. “I just need one more test, okay? If he knows this, he’ll be an, ugh…” Here, she looks actually sick to promise. “James Potter can be y – your brother and… and an honorary Black, I guess. If he knows this story, though! And not any time sooner!”
“Sure, whatever you want, Cassie.” Sirius acquiesces easily, more relaxed than James has seen in years, perhaps ever since they met.
“Great! Then, prepare yourself, James Potter!” Twirling on her heels, she stands before him with her brothers behind her, a pint-sized wall protecting them from the evil, evil interloper that is James. “Do you know Siri is a friend of a were-co*cker spaniel? Of the English royal delegation, even?”
… Of the bloody what?
Royal dele-what of the were- what?
It’s not often that James finds himself dumbfounded, head an empty nest blown from just a headline. At his slack-jawed expression, Cassie grins with far too many teeth showing, such a vicious smile on such a tiny thing, highlighting her similarities to his best mate, especially when he embodied the infamous Black madness.
In turn, he notices Sirius instantly losing his smile, though he’s unable to ponder why when Cassie’s scoff resounds in the cabin.
“As expected,” she says. Shaking her head, her voice drops into a condescending croon. “It is not a title Siri brags about often, but I would’ve thought his supposed best mates and brother from another mother would know.”
“Your pettiness is unbecoming, Cass.” With obvious amusem*nt reflected in those silver eyes, Regulus scolds. “Just tell the story, already.”
“Gladly,” and here, she launches into a tale of a beautiful autumn day. Of Sirius somehow sneaking the twins out of their heavily surveyed home to Mould-on-the-Wold; the wizarding village’s fresh air tinged with a wintery crisp, people bustling about with their children and pets. Of the twins grabbing Forfar bridies, only to return to Sirius leaning handsomely over a park bench and chatting up a woman with golden braids. Of the immense surprise to find that woman being a f*cking dog – Reggie interjects, “I thought Brother Sirius had gone crazy.” – and past Sirius quickly explaining that it – “She,” Cassie emphasizes. “It was a her, okay.” – was actually a great conversationalist and interested in the common folk. The braids marked her as royalty of the were-co*cker spaniels, whatever the f*ck that is, capable of understanding human speech though the ability to turn human was diluted out of her species. Sirius knew how to speak dog through this super secret heir training, thus able to strike up an unlikely friendship, a friendship that continues to this day, though kept from the public because she snuck away from her bodyguards and needed to keep this outing a secret. It doesn’t diminish their friendship, Sirius assured.
Cassie is a good storyteller, her cheery energy making each word engaging. James acknowledges that while also acknowledging that there’s no bloody way that it’s a true story.
James would eat his f*cking wand, otherwise.
Like the two prior stories, he acquiesces that there may be a grain of truth, an itty bitty one, but it’s drenched so thoroughly in Sirius’ wicked brand of fictitious embellishment that he’s unable to pinpoint it. More than likely, the truth must be damn embarrassing for Sirius.
As evident by the present Sirius breaking out in cold sweat. Back ramrod straight, his hands twitching towards Cassie every other moment as if wanting to shut her up.
James’ suspicion that Sirius mistook a dog for a pretty blond-braided lady is swelling.
Please let it be so, he thinks.
He’ll pry the truth out of his best mate’s gritted teeth; any bite marks he may receive would be worth the blackmail material.
“– and that’s why you are unworthy of being Siri’s brother, James Potter!” Cassie finishes, her voice rising in volume the more excitedly vindicated she becomes. “A friend of a royal of the were-co*cker spaniel, that he is! Discovering a new species and building bridges with the wizarding community, all within one afternoon, one conversation, before he came of age. Isn’t my big brother amazing? And yet as his acclaimed best mate, how dare you not know –”
“Ah, ha ha ha! HA, Well! I think this has been quite an eventful introduction. I’m sure everyone is tired,” Sirius finally cracks.
They’re making a bloody scene in this enclosed space, in this very old train with thin walls.
“But, Siri, he needs to know. They all need to know – !”
Slapping a hand over Cassie’s mouth, “That’s enough out of you, little missy.” Sirius’ face is a stark scarlet.
Regulus jumps in then, a silent observer no longer now that his twin is censured. “Brother Sirius, we are aware of your humble nature –” his f*cking what, James thinks “– but as heir, it’s imperative that your achievements are known amongst your peers.”
“It bloody does not,” Sirius snaps. He wraps his free arm around Regulus, manhandling them towards the cabin’s door. Regulus follows sedately, while Cassie squawks out muffled protests. And because the fool enjoys balancing tippy toe atop the hill of his embellished lies, he says lowly, hushly like compulsively feeding a toddler’s belief in ol’ Saint Jolly, even though the twins are pre-teens. “I thought I told you two my title was a secret. The fair lady would gut me if she knew.”
Regulus’ brow rises. “Nevertheless, your inner circle should at least be aware –”
“Nope, nada, these bastards especially should not.”
Without a backward glance, Sirius promptly and brazenly kicks the door open and drags the twins out. James catches the start of more dialogue from Regulus, but Sirius’ sudden laughter drowns it out. It’s loud and wild and full of panic.
The Blacks stumble over each other down the corridor, Sirius drawing attention left and right for his very loud and very nonsensical ranting about his older brother’s privileges and his oh-so-important image. Not just James is peaking out of their cabin to follow the walking howler, though it’s likely just him that focuses on the twins, too. As such, he notices when Cassie turns over Sirius’ shoulder towards him to stick out her tongue; in comparison, Regulus smiles like a cat that got his cream.
How crazy, James huffs. It’s a damn good tactic, provoking Sirius like that. He doubts Sirius will return to their compartment for the rest of the trip.
… If that was planned to lull everyone into a false sense of security, that no pureblood manipulation will be coming from them, he must spare applause for that.
Because that was a stellar act of two crazy younger siblings.
Well played.
(He won’t let down his guard that easily, but he can acknowledge the twins are fixtures to Sirius’ happiness; though embarrassed, his best mate left the cabin on cloud nine.)
Anyways, James will most definitely reap the benefits of their antics. Sirius, a friend of the royal were-co*cker spaniel delegation, ha! He thought he’d been exposed to the worst of Sirius-brand storytelling, but he’s clearly been missing out. This sh*t? This blackmail material would last for lifetimes.
Part II. Slytherin Sun and Moon.
“Cassiopeia Black,” comes Professor McGonagall’s commanding voice. She doesn’t even need the sonorous spell for it to resonate across the entire Great Hall.
Sirius’ adorable little sister makes her debut before the Hogwarts entourage with a cheerful “Present!” and skips with a bright smile towards the sorting hat.
Just that’s enough for a curious hush to spread. From what was probably a quarter of the student body and staff projecting polite attention to the new students to everyone snapping their heads towards Cassie. And Sirius meant legit everyone, even the Headmaster with his twinkling eyes, though most notably those from the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. Their faces betray their inner thoughts. Oh, Merlin, could it be another black sheep? An atypical, non-brooding, non-devious Black? What are the chances of having two non-Slytherin Blacks in the same generation?
And despite his best efforts, a spark of wonder within Sirius makes itself known. Filling him with thoughts of a housemate from his family, of the many adventures he could pull Cassie into, and of various nooks and crannies in this castle they could decorate in red and gold.
But then he catches Reggie’s eyes and quickly shunts those ridiculous thoughts away.
Bad Sirius. Stupid him.
How could he forget? A black sheep should be a lone sheep.
Call him a misogynist understander, but noble society has weird stipulations over women, and his family is no exception. As long as Cassie behaves within the realm of a respectable noble lady, smiles prettily for potential suitors, and does well on her bridal lessons, she’s disregarded. She’s allowed to pursue her hobbies and a social life. Amongst other pureblood nobility, of course, maybe… maybe even be forgiven if she’s sorted into a non-Slytherin house. It may affect her value, but he can still see their parents twisting that into her unique quirk, a cute little trait of a prized bride that a buyer can either accept or… or, and he hates how his mind wraps around the very real possibility of Cassie’s husband beating what makes Cassie out of her.
He’d never allow that ‘till his dying breath. But that’s a worry years into the future. For now, she can be spared that level of freedom. It’s just a house sorting.
Not for Reggie, though.
And not for Sirius, then. The heir and spare heir could never be afforded that luxury.
As such, he won’t fool himself. What kind of good big brother would he be if he could only daydream about one-half of his siblings? One Gryffindor housemate would never be enough.
“Hmm, what an interesting child you are.”
The aged voice of the sorting hat pulls Sirius from his thoughts, its creases curious and contemplating.
“Plenty of courage, I see, and otherworldly intellect you wield. Admirable is your loyalty to your family as is your ability to extend that grace to others. You are a greater conundrum than all the previous Blacks combined.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” Cassie smiles upon the stool, kicking her little legs cheerily.
Cassie falls silent following that, though every other breath has her humming or shrugging or even giggling, presumably from a conversation privy to just the two, a conversation passing the five-minute mark. When he thinks it’s finally at its end, with the hat taking a deep breath to announce its decision, Cassie chirps out “Not that one, please, and thank you.”
The hat instantly goes blank, though it certainly kickstarts whispers amongst the audience.
Five more minutes.
Once more, the hat prepares itself only for Cassie to pair her “Nope, nada, no way,” with a head shake and crossed arms this time. She looks adorably frustrated up there.
What the bloody hell.
It’s close to the fifteen-minute mark when, “You are making this exceedingly difficult, child.”
“And you are being needlessly dramatic.” Without missing a beat, Cassie quips back. “I’m a Black if you haven’t noticed. A letter B, good sir, ma’am uh, magical elder thing, only second in the alphabet. I am very much looking forward to the welcoming feast before my bedtime.”
Sirius nearly faceplants into the empty plate, as James chokes on nothing beside him. Of all things she could, ugh…! Bloody sassing the centuries-old magical hat created by one of Hogwarts’ founders is only making her sorting more of a circus act. He thought he was the talk of the town, and yet she’s somehow determined to beat that.
With a hearty bellow from the magical hat, its wrinkled expression amusingly acquiesces. “Alright, little queen, I concede and eagerly look forward to the waves you’ll make. SLYTHERIN!”
And… oh.
It’s expected, yet he can’t stop the little pang of disappointment. Nor does he doubt anybody forgetting the crazy journey to get there.
The snakes erupt in cheer.
And Sirius finally breathes, hands shaking.
Cassie jumps out of the stool, twirling back to enact a perfectly noble curtsy towards the line of staff and again towards the hat, who chuckles and sends a wink towards her brothers – a wink for each of them – while making her way towards Slytherin’s table.
“The sorting hat…” Peter’s voice comes out no louder than a whisper. “I – It looked like it was going to sort her into Hufflepuff, and then Ravenclaw, r – right? I, uh, o – others saw that… right?”
Remus nods, expression pinched. “The sorting hat does tend to pronounce each house clearly, each having a distinct mouth shape.”
“Then she chose the bloody den of snakes herself?” James asks incredulously. “Why would anyone,” cutting himself off, he frowns and voices Sirius’ fear. “... because of your parents?”
There are many expletives he could respond with and confirm what literally anybody with eyes could assume. Cassie doesn’t fit with the whole broody Black purist aesthetic. She’s a black sheep like Sirius. Of course, she’s far more adorable and pretty and kind, but there’s really only one reason a cheery girl like her would choose to honor the Black family tradition.
Biting hard into his lower lip, Sirius aches and stays silent. There’s a familiar helplessness lodged in his throat, though its all-encompassing presence usually stayed at 12 Grimmauld Place. He curses the thought that perhaps, sooner than later, it’ll bleed permanently into Hogwarts. He’s already necessitous at securing his safe spaces.
“Regulus Black.” Professor McGonagall calls.
Reggie’s sorting is a blink in comparison.
It’s evident that the sorting hat talks to him too, his expression going through a myriad of curiosity and exasperation, only to finish with a small smile. When the expected “SLYTHERIN!” gets announced, he too performs a respectful bow and then joins his twin at the snakes’ table.
Cassie grins with far too many teeth in greeting. Sirius has only a moment to prepare his poor heart, before she grabs Reggie’s hand and very publicly and very scandalously, turns to wave with their joined hands at Sirius from across the Great Hall. Before an entire audience of pompous nobles and muggle-borns and snakes and lions out for each other’s blood.
Sirius’ jaw drops.
His hand raises in reflex, though it stutters in its returning wave.
… Oh.
Oh, bloody hell.
There’s no way she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but against all adversaries, here she is.
Deliberately drawing the line, a line connecting them.
She couldn’t have spoken louder of their relationship, of their continued relationship, despite their clashing colors and ensuing political nightmare.
Even as the twins turn towards their housemates, their expressions a mixture of bemusem*nt, curiosity, and disdain, Sirius remains frozen.
That is, until James mumbles out, “What a crazy little lady.”
“Cassie is not crazy,” says Sirius more on reflex. That’s his darling little sister, a little sister who regularly snoops into his and Reggie’s heir lessons, who is hyper-sensitive to someone’s emotions and political stance, and who is far more mature than what she portrays.
He shouldn’t have been surprised at her sorting.
She disguises her madness and intelligence best amongst the living Blacks.
(Sirius is aware she has… agendas. She has personal outings. Her familiarity with a new place when Sirius sneaks them out is obvious compared to Reggie’s quiet astonishments.)
“Mate,” says James. “What do you want to do?”
That prompts Sirius to turn towards his best mate, a heavy gaze shared between them. Their acquaintanceship may have started just three years ago, but their similar positions – kindreds despite their families aligning in opposing blacks and whites – allow their thoughts to click. They are the same faces on either side of a coin.
What does he want to do, James asks.
Sirius hears, how should they treat his little green and silver-robed siblings moving forward?
What an easy question.
It should be obvious, but lions can be a bit dense.
Breaking out in a shaky grin, “Those two are my adorable little siblings.” With a passing glance upon the attentive Gryffindors, “I hear any of you pricks messing with them, and there will be a bitter pill to pay. Even the Fat Lady herself wouldn’t be able to guard you from my fist sinking into your nose.” His voice carries across the table, his housemates’ eyes alight with excitement at the new gossip though with hints of caution. Smart blokes. A promise from Sirius Black is not one to be taken lightly.
James snorts but nods, nonetheless. It’s a silent assurance that he’ll follow Sirius’ lead on this.
Remus smiles as Peter ducks his head to focus on building trenches through his food.
None of them have any misgivings about the cancerous bigotry within the Blacks, about his parents’ poisonous claws around his little siblings’ necks. Like a master yanking a leash, they’re as willing to throw Cassie to the highest-paying beasts as breaking and reconstructing Reggie into their perfect puppet.
It’ll be a battle of their wills against Sirius’ then.
The twins are the only reason he returns home during summer. If he must construct a home away from home to remain in their lives, let it be done. Sirius has never forgotten the first time he walked through Hogwarts’ doors, this magical place wherein abandoned boys may find a home.
Three Blacks should have little problem carving one out for themselves.
It starts with whispers of Cassie’s and Reggie’s names passing through a train of students’ mouths, regardless of the colors of their robes. They range from a variety of topics, from the ever-acclaimed house sorting to their performance in classes to whom they choose to associate with.
At first, it’s “Miss Black did this,” and “Mr. Black did that, y’know mate, the little one.” Then, “Did you hear what Miss Cassiopeia just said to Miss Evan Rosier?! She was flushed up to her hairline!” to “Mr. Regulus debuted with the top exam scores across all his classes. Even the advanced ones the professors moved him to. It’s just the first round of exams, and Slytherin gained 50 points from him alone. From just that! Bloody hell, you thinking what I’m thinking? If he continues this streak for the remaining school year, the snakes might not even need to win the quidditch tournament to win the House Cup –”
And most recently, the “Slytherin Sun and Moon, just now, they – hey, quiet and listen, everyone –”
Sirius can appreciate the flattering and fitting nicknames for them. It’s nearly as good as the Marauders he and his group of misfits chose for themselves. Only months after starting Hogwarts, both of his darling little siblings have become a household name. And not just within the house of snakes.
He’d known Cassie was a social butterfly through and through, but there’s no more evidence than her somehow seating red and gold and green and silver-robed students together along with kaleidoscopes of blue and bronze and yellow and black in the Great Hall, in semi-outdoor lounges, and the library corners. The latter even for extended periods, while surrounded by focused stares of librarians haltingly waiting for screaming clashes.
It’s not just the mixture of colors she’s accomplished.
But also the attraction of pureblood and muggle-borns alike, somehow wielding her Black surname as cat nip to both bloodlines despite it usually being a deterrent for the latter.
How has she performed such a miracle?
According to a snooping Peter, the standing invites she’d secured from professors and seniors for tutoring – turned into regular tea times outside of exam season – are the primary reason. She generously shares study material and gossip without hesitation, greeting those curious with bright grins and those hesitant with a waving hand. Even third and fourth years are going to this little first year for course material. Following the initial meeting, it’s simply Cassie being herself. Her kind words, encouraging actions, and ever-clear eyes as she looks upon them make them stay. Sirius’ little green and silver sun attracts all those that’d wish to bask in her warmth.
She is the epitome of a leader, of how a powerful family should act in uniting factions, and Sirius has caught James muttering under his breath about how his parents would surely hear of this and nag about him taking a page out of her book.
On the other hand, Reggie mostly remains solitary but has been spotted providing tutoring whenever seated with Cassie and inevitably pulled into the group she’d gathered. With his specialty in potions and charms, he poses a logical and no-nonsense tutor while Cassie offers the sweet chaser after his oftentimes blunt words until eventually, he too is being approached by his peers without needing Cassie there as a buffer or Reggie-translator.
The twins don’t spend every waking hour together, but they never fail to gather in the Great Hall to end the day together. And sometimes –
“Siri,” Cassie plops down upon his adjacent seat, grinning as she leans against his shoulder. From James’ face behind her, she had bullied him out of his usual spot.
– the Gryffindor table gets just a bit more cramped.
(Cassie was adamant about their continued relationship at sorting, and it warms Sirius every time it’s exhibited.)
“Did you hear about the new dinner menu today? Apparently Hogwarts’ house elves got an anonymous recipe for something called scouse.”
Reggie huffs as he occupies the seat on Sirius’ other side, thick book in hand as usual. Securing James’ second choice and ignoring his narrow-eyed grumbling. “Based on this dish’s lack of mention in any noble dinery, I already question its quality.”
“Now, now,” sing-songs Cassie. “I’m sure it’s got lots of meat and plenty of fatty nutrients a growing boy like you will enjoy. Don’t let your sensitive tongue draw you away from trying a good meal, dear Reggie.”
With a raised brow, “You seem quite knowledgeable about it.” Reggie says leadingly, “Perhaps you also have an inkling about this supposed anonymous sender.”
Cassie winks and then swivels towards Sirius. “Anyways, how was your day Siri? Made any new professors chase you down the halls yet? You really should give Professor Slugborn a break, our poor Head of House, his olden legs will only be getting more leaden with every chase following you breaking one of Hogwarts’ cauldrons.”
Sirius squawks at the unfair reprimand; the bloody bastard with a rat’s nest that he calls hair across him does as much if not equally more damage. He explains it as such, much to James’ betrayal, who instantly claps back. Of course, Remus has to throw in a few embarrassing anecdotes of him here and of James there.
All the while, Cassie ducks her head and shares commiserating grins with other Gryffindors enjoying the commotion. Reggie instead shares commiserating sighs and shaking of his head.
At least, until the dishes are apprated in right at the height of their bickering and James grabs the first thing in reach – a meat stew that’s likely the new scouse – and sends it flying. Her smile gets wiped off instantly, a mournful cry echoing in the Great Halls. “Ah, no, not that! James Potter, you meanie!”
The searing glare of Professor McGonagall stops the food war before it can commence. The immobulus she fires is much more effective and highlights nearly ten lions who’d risen in the influence of James’ temper.
“10 points from Gryffindor,” she says, disappointment laced in every word.
And other times –
“Hello,” comes an unexpected bell-like voice.
“Oh,” Lily Evans blinks confusedly at the girl who’s taken the seat beside her. “Hello, Miss Black.” The first year at this point is a common appearance at Gryffindor’s table but rarely instigates a conversation with those outside her older brother or his peers.
She appears alone today, without her Slytherin Moon or those self-acclaimed Marauders.
“Cassiopeia or just Cassie, please. You seem nice, so I grant you the privilege to call me that.” She puffs up in all her eleven-year-old glory, hands on her hips like she’s granting some monumental favor. “You are the first after Siri and Reggie, y’know.” Unlike other nobles, somehow – and Lily is observing closely – the act doesn’t come across as arrogant, likely attributed to her constant direct eye contact, clear silver eyes locked onto her striking green, which doesn’t hint at any condescension.
Lily could only smile, charmed despite her caution, at it.
“After all, I wanna get along with James Potter’s beloved more than him.”
The rubbish of a statement nearly makes Lily choke.
Holding a hand over her racing heart, she could only muster out “I, uh, I beg your pardon? There’s no way… Potter doesn’t – to me, he can’t –”
With a firm nod, Cassie says seriously, like a wizened elder disappointed at the younger generation. “Of course, you do not know. He is a stupid boy, that’s why. He would rather tug your pigtails to get your attention than confess.”
But that’s… impossible?
Lily gapes at the mental image, but now that it’s in her head, she can’t not think about it.
Because there’s some truth to it. First and foremost, he has actually yanked her hair. Only once. And she’d retaliated mercilessly. That hadn’t been her first playground jeering where people found offense for some reason or another with her natural ginger hair. Unlike others, though, Potter came back. He goads her endlessly about her grades, her appearance, her muggle-born background, her relationship with Snape, her second-hand books, robes, and pauper tastes, and oh.
A stupid boy, Cassie said.
Lily is inclined to trust that. The little lady has a vastly different perspective and likely interacted much more in the past months, by proximity, than the past three years Lily did with said stupid boy.
“Oh, blimey… Merlin.” She moans into her hands. “This is the worst.”
“Oh, you don’t like him back?” Cassie asks guilelessly. Tilting her head back and forth, pondering, she finishes with a shrug. “Oh, well, that stinky James would benefit from a difficult courting.”
Lily laughs helplessly.
She makes it sound like a guaranteed occurrence.
“Because I don’t like him right now, I’ll tell you a bunch of gossip about him, okay?” Cassie leans in excitedly, hands twitching around her robes like she wants to wrap them around Lily’s arm instead. The senior witch… feels slight disappointment that she doesn’t and then looks curiously at herself as to why she’d feel such a thing for a Slytherin, a noble pureblood lady; a secondary thought comes, wondering how they even got here. She wonders further if a muggle-born like her should be feeling honored by the gifts of a pet name and conversation.
Said subject of Lily’s dilemma doesn’t seem to care much for complications.
Quickly launching into her tale with a toothy grin, “I heard this from Siri, but James the other day, y’know, he did something stupid in the library. He charmed all the books from the potions section to sing whenever opened. Obviously, he didn’t charm each book individually, but they still can’t find the focal point where he placed the spell.”
“No,” Lily gasps. Amused despite knowing better; that’s a section she frequents, and the prank would most definitely be a hindrance to her later.
“Madam Pince nearly had a conniption. The poor lady, just a year into her employment, and James just had to pull this on her. Not that she knows it’s him who did it,” says Cassie leadingly.
And oh, Lily can see Sirius Black’s penchant for mischief in those similar silver eyes.
She finds it coming from this little lady far more delightful.
“I will keep that in mind,” she promises. She is not a vindictive person, but some empty threats of reporting him to prefects to combat James’ goading would satisfy a petty part of her gearing for revenge. “Would you be willing to tell me more?”
Perking up at the request, Cassie crows. “With pleasure, here, another story from Siri. So you know there are lots of haunted places in Hogwarts, right? Well, I’ll tell you now the ones outside Slytherin’s dorms aren’t one of them. Our house’s ancestors like to haunt out of sight and out of mind, but that meanie James fed a bunch of ridiculous rumors. This one spell he did, he made it so when someone’s walking down those halls, their footsteps echo like someone’s following them.” She blows out a raspberry, her darling face scrunched adorably. “This happened a year ago, thankfully but all my housemates told me back then, it drove them up all the walls. I would’ve gone and yanked his hair for it! Some of them lost precious sleep because of imaginary stalkers and vengeful ghosts and shadowy magical beasts! I swear if he dares do anything similar while I’m here, I –”
The sudden appearance of the Marauders entering the Great Hall doesn’t interrupt Cassie, only allows her to swivel and point accusingly at the one Marauder she’s grieved with, and Lily suspects it’s more than the potential pranks; the commotion with the scouse only occurred yesterday, after all.
“I swear I’ll make you bald, James Potter!”
“What.” Potter pauses in his steps, brow rising. “What did I do now…?”
Until he really looks over their seating arrangement.
The double take upon Lily and the immediate flush of his face has her equally gaping. Oh, oh, Merlin. Definitely some truth to it, then. She can only stare blankly as Potter rushes towards them, a mixture of embarrassment and panic etched across his features.
“Cassie, what are you doing?” Potter hisses.
“That’s Miss Black to you,” Cassie snaps back.
Grabbing her arm with enough force and readiness to pitch her across a quidditch field, “No games, seriously, tell me. Why are you with – no, more importantly – what have you been telling her?”
Cassie slides with the movement, her legs askew on the seat and – now that Lily’s noticed, has a – tight grip around Potter’s tie keeping her off the floor. Her face is pinched in annoyance at either the interruption or manhandling. “Nonyabusiness, but if you must know, just securing myself a nice sister because Siri’s and Reggie’s tastes can’t be trusted, and despite my immense disapproval, Siri wants you in his life. You gross non-honorary Black. As such, I am simply preemptively introducing myself to your intended –”
“Ack, intended? What intended? There’s no bloody intended!” Potter releases quite a truly magnificent Mandrake impersonation.
“Well, of course, there’s no bloody intended if you keep being a stupid butthead –”
Noticing that the yanking’s only intensifying, Lily reaches over with placating words ready to break the two up before any robes are ripped or before Gryffindor’s star seeker gets choked by a little first-year or –
“Oi, oi, you bloody Potter bastard! Hands off my sister!”
– a red and gold Marauder civil war occurs.
Lily’s stomach sinks at the thundering footsteps, its volume only increasing along with the shouted demands of release – “Who the bloody hell do you think you are to be rough with her,” and “Not even the entire Potter vault could convince me to allow you to touch her” – and quite a colorful illustration of consequences if such demands were ignored.
Potter instantly pales. Raising his hands in surrender brings forth the unfortunate result of Cassie finally collapsing onto the floor. “Oof.”
And what a war that triggers.
Dishes are the first thing to go flying, followed by random trinkets, then jinxes, then hexes, when Potter – in ill-timed fashion – displays that star athleticism to escape his fellow star quidditch teammate.
None of his housemates appreciate their newfound usage as human shields to an incensed Black.
Much less the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws when the chase angles itself sharply away from the end of Gryffindor’s table. The snakes look all too ready to fire or scream at the ever-nearing splash zone. Except just when Lily thinks she’ll be witness to a vengeful badger or unique curses from a ruffled crow, a low but commanding voice submits the enter Great Hall into silence.
There Professor McGonagall stands, atop the professor’s platform, visibly peeved despite her constant scowl at the lack of peaceful dining. “20 points from Gryffindor.”
It’s another three or so similar incidents, wherein either Sirius or James would lose points for Gryffindor, that Cassie makes the mature decision to have family bonding time only between the three. “Away from trigger-happy lions,” said Cassie, especially from that quote, unquote “chaotic evil, food-wasting bird nesting Potter butthead.” In the same breath, “Lily is super nice, though. I like her. I’m going to make her my sister.”
Despite Sirius, and more loudly, James’ protests.
Why the bastard even cares is a disaster Sirius fervently avoids.
As a further showcase of her maturity, she doesn’t weaponize any food during their bi-weekly tea time when the other Marauders intrude and run away with one of the exquisite sweets she somehow always procures.
Sirius has never been more embarrassed by his best mates.
Those are his bloody sweets, the bastards. The retaliatory wrestling match he’ll commence in the privacy of their tower will be sweet and vicious.
Part III. Metamorph – who? WHAT?
It’s a beautiful weekend. The birds are chirping, and students, professors, and ghosts are enjoying the nice fall weather. Most years have just finished a round of preparatory tests for the midterms, so gatherings consist of studying or taking a well-deserved break in between stressful periods.
And amongst the students, there are two Blacks, plus a Potter, dashing through Hogwarts’ hallways.
Sirius Black howls out. “You stop right this instant! I’ve got questions, young lady!”
The Potter, the only Potter currently in Hogwarts and one constantly embroidered in mischief snorts. “Mate, that’s Regulus.” The twins share the same coloring and are practically the same height, but there’s no long flowing hair from the younger Black, who’s keeping her distance from them surprisingly well, considering what looks like three thick textbooks under their arm.
“Shut up, you bloody bastard. I know my own siblings.” Sirius snaps back. With a quirk of a brow, “Why are you running with me, anyways?”
“Did you forget I was with you when you –” Twirling on his heel, he just barely avoids colliding with a Hufflepuff. Sirius doesn’t bother dodging as he bulldozes through a group of Slytherins. Outraged cries and a pompous “my father will hear of this” resound in their wake. “– when you greeted Regulus, got a polite nod, and just bolted after him for no reason?”
Sirius huffs at that.
Oh, there’s most definitely a fun story about to play out; James can smell it. He’ll be a thorn in his best mate’s side and do cardio exercises to see this through.
Especially if it’ll explain why the younger boy’s running away from Sirius.
James didn’t think the uptight mini-noble knew how to ghost his family’s heir. Or even run. Much less be able to vault out a window – what the f*ck – ? Regulus just bloody jumped out of a window!
Sirius and James follow, close on his heels out onto the open fields. Whereas the two Gryffindor quidditch athletes manage to land on their feet with practiced ease, the uneven ground causes a stumble to their target. Instead of catching himself, Regulus juggles the textbooks into his chest to be shielded by thin arms and robes. The weight of the books must be too much for him, though, and he stumbles again.
Luckily, Sirius closed enough distance to lunge forward and snap an arm around the younger.
That sends the two siblings tumbling to the ground, Sirius twisting to cushion Regulus with his body. Only to yelp as all air in his lungs rushes out when Regulus’ near face-plant into the dirt turns into a face-plant into his chest. Along with the textbooks’ added weight. Even so, Sirius doesn’t roll Regulus off, just holds him protectively against him as he groans.
“Bloody hell, why didn’t you catch yourself?”
James echoes that question as he skids to a stop beside them, wiping at the break of sweat across his temple.
“... Reggie would kill me if I damaged his books.”
James’ brow rises at that, curious at the weird wording.
Rolling into a more comfortable position atop the older brother, Regulus asks. “How did you know?”
Sirius shakes his head and shifts his arms to accommodate the embrace, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Nice try. Your transformation may be perfect, but there was a split second where you didn’t react to me calling for Reggie. Took a whole second call for you to respond, and you know perfect little Reggie would never need that.”
Regulus huffs. “Damn it.”
“Hey, language. Even if it’s funny hearing you curse with Reggie’s face and voice –”
“Uh, Cassie?” James interjects, dumbly.
It’s his best guess. Regulus still got a pre-teen high pitch, making it similar to Cassie’s. Though while he’s constant in his delivery, a bare step up from a monotone drawl, Cassie tends to stress certain syllables or audibly end her sentences that make it clear of her current mood. Regulus turns to pout up at him. Since when does Regulus pout – oh, oooh, sh*t – yeah, that’s not Regulus. Must be polyjuice, then, which is super illegal but nothing a Marauder can condemn Cassie for; they’d be bloody hypocrites, otherwise.
Except.
“Cassie’s a metamorphmagus,” comes the bombshell from his best mate.
Oh…
That’s… Oh, Merlin.
And James should be amazed at this rare ability reemerging within the Black bloodline, should count himself lucky that his generation can bear witness to it, should be exclaiming at the mischief Cassie may enable, yet all he could feel is… dread, literal cold sweat down his spine.
It’s a horrible feeling to have especially towards his best mate’s sister but… but he can’t not think it.
Because what if such ability fell to the Dark Lord? The power Voldemort would gain from having an elusive spy loyal to him…
Despite his careless attitude, he’s the Potter heir; he’s been lectured countless times on the shifting political tides, on creeping shadows curling around their small wizarding community once more, and on the importance of tracking key players. Students that may cause waves for potential recruitment or… are susceptible to turning sympathetic and need to be preemptively removed. (He’s fought hard for Sirius’ allegiance and their friendship before his family. There’s little favor he can still extend, most definitely not enough for more Blacks.)
Voldemort’s already got a connection to Cassie, a ghastly hand wrapped around her throat through her dreadful parents. Reluctant she may be to Voldemort’s cause now, but broken human strength can be. There are spells designed for that.
And there’s physical ease to perform them. The twins are under the guardianship of those horrid parents, under their roof, who have control of the wards and authority and legality to welcome anybody twisted enough to perform them.
A pragmatic strategist would already mark the Black twins as the Dark Lord’s assets.
James’ parents would most certainly do, and their heir, whose Light-aligned family is an ally of many in the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, should adhere to that.
“Why,” and James applauds himself for keeping his voice steady. “Why are you going around looking like Regulus?”
Cassie shrugs and sits up, remaining on the ground comfortably in Sirius’ hold. The cutesy action looks odd yet endearing with Regulus’ face. “He pulled an all-nighter since he was apparently on an,” here she does bunny quotes with her fingers, “exciting part in his first edition book on charms. Y’know, the one he started three days ago? You saw it during dinner, almost got sauce on its pages, and he hasn’t put it down since. As such, I am being a good big sister and a good member of society, letting him power nap before he attempts any charms in his sleep-deprived state.”
Yes, thank Merlin, because Hogwarts doesn’t need any magical incidents from Slytherin’s most brilliant first year.
Sirius hums, “And how are you excusing your absence, young lady?”
“Womanly troubles.” She deadpans. “I’m in incredible pain from bleeding down there and very freaked out thus I am bedridden for the entirety of today.”
James snorts, amused.
“And are you in pain, dear Cassie?” The overprotective big brother double checks, even though the amused twinkling in Cassie’s eyes – well, Regulus’ eyes, and that’s still a mind trip – are a tell in itself.
“I’m not a bloody baby.” She says, unimpressed; now, this is a familiar expression for Regulus.
Only then does Sirius allow his cackles to pass, finally reassured to jump in on the mischief. Nevertheless, he’s gentle in assisting her. Tucking the textbooks under his arm, he allows Cassie to grasp onto the other.
It’s an unusual sight, having the Slytherin first years’ most brilliant and brilliantly antisocial star hang onto the Black’s black sheep and Gryffindor’s resident playboy; the majority of eyes track their merry group of three as they cross the fields towards Slytherin’s dungeon. Not that Cassie cares. She’s happily broadcasting Sirius’ close relationship with the twins through Regulus. James can already picture it, the Slytherin Moon can smile and it’s not a girl who accomplished it, upon the front pages of tomorrow’s Hogwarts newsletter.
It’s not all flowers and chirping larks in James’ head, though.
“So, uh…” James coughs, “You go around as him often, Cassie?”
Bloody hell, he’s not made for subtlety.
He needs to know, though. Cassie may parade as her twin out of kindness and mischief at this moment, but who’s to say that’ll keep down the line? Similarly, Regulus may be hyperfocusing on charms at this moment, but who’s to say it won’t turn into the dark arts? Could Cassie… become an alibi for him as Regulus dances at He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s commands?
James hates himself a bit more for thinking this, averting his eyes when his best mate turns towards him with a knowing look.
She hums. “Eh, kinda? Whenever either of us feels like switching. There are some lessons I’m curious about that only Siri and Reggie get, which,” clicking her tongue, “sexist much? He lets me sit in on those, but other times, he wants to be a boring super nerd so he skips lessons to lock himself in the library.”
With a devious grin, “I make sure he pays me back generously for those. I trained him well. He’s quite accustomed to fitting in my dresses now.”
Both third years choke on their spit, pounding their chest in desperate need of air.
Cassie looks on with bright eyes, eyes surrounded by happy creases, and holds her brother from collapsing onto the ground. Bloody hell, the little lady knew exactly what she was doing, dropping that juicy tidbit about the elusive Slytherin Moon.
When her words finally register in James’ brain, he asks. “Regulus, he – you use polyjuice in your own home?” Despite the illegality of it, a part of him is tickled by its usage.
“What happens under Black roof stays under Black roof,” she sing-songs.
Well, then.
James has never teased Regulus before, but this is too good to pass over.
Their journey flows into a less stressful conversation about their coursework then. With Cassie ignorant or consciously ignoring James’ flickering tension, the fine but short distraction quickly loses its potency; his worries over the underlying issue return with a vengeance, even after they arrive at their destination.
Plenty can be said about Cassie that she carelessly recites the password to Slytherin’s private dormitories in front of them. Another that not one passing Slytherin bats an eye as Cassie, as Regulus, waltzes right towards the ladies’ section. Well, not at her but at her company. James catches a few snakes double-take, most definitely straining their necks at that speed, once they realize there are two lions in their dungeons, though none speak up, and that really nails the coffin of the immense influence the Black twins wield within their house.
All achieved within less than half a year.
James is equally amazed and terrified, the latter nearly making him sick.
Entering a dorm room with four-poster beds at each corner, drowned in green and silver to a staggering degree – seriously, these snakes and their devotion to their house – Cassie skips towards the only one with curtains drawn. She mutters under her breath, incomprehensible, but easy to figure out; there’s a subtle but familiar wash of privacy wards as James nears the bed, surely just updated to welcome him and Sirius, and Cassie carelessly swipes the curtains away.
And there Regulus is, with zero disguises, peacefully asleep on Cassie’s bed in the middle of the Slytherin girl dorms with a large book open beside him.
Long lashes flutter at the dip of the bed at Cassie’s intrusion, silver eyes cracking open slowly. Soft and drowsy even as seconds tick by, even as they pass by each person present; it makes him look young, well, even younger than he is, without that frosty noble attitude.
So the little Black young master has difficulty waking up.
As someone with a bare acquaintanceship with the twins, James can still admittedly find that adorable.
Sirius has no reservations, openly cooing at Regulus, teasingly tweaking his nose and ears in a bid to wake him.
Cassie meanwhile drops her transformation, James shamelessly staring at the seamlessness of it that polyjuice could not replicate; not that there’s much of it, what with the twins’ hair length being their major difference, but it’s still fascinating to witness. She settles right beside her twin, their bodies pressed together, comfortable and familiar with the shared space.
“… nh, stop,” grumbles Regulus. Halfheartedly waving off Sirius’ hands, Regulus takes to rubbing his eyes and blinks up, then blinks twice more. “Brother Sirius…? Why are you here?”
“Found Cassie masquerading as you and couldn’t resist finding out why,” with a sly grin at James, “and this prick wouldn’t bugger off.”
James could only stick his tongue out at him.
Regulus hums. “I see…”
Not that he seems to be seeing or caring, not even twitching at Sirius’ gentle runs through his sleep-mussed hair.
Sirius smiles, “And what has my darling little brother been so enraptured in recently?”
“Mm, been reading up on the Fidelius Charm…”
Regulus blindly reaches out for the book, assisted by Cassie shifting it towards him, then precariously handles it over his face. With eyes still half-lidded, James suspects amusingly that he’s not comprehending any of the text, more an action done out of habit.
“… an immensely complex spell involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. It is beyond our current course lessons, but curiosity seized me…” With a squeaky yawn that the other Blacks share fond grins at, he continues, “Such as the clarity of secret, what could that pertain to specifically? Would that allow a student, at best unintentional and at worst malicious, to cause an examination question’s answer to be lost to all…? No, perhaps not one, but at least two, three… must be in the know. Regardless, take an example where they claim the correct answer to be a secret. How would that affect other examiners’ background knowledge when tackling the question, then? What about those who got the correct answer before that student? Would it even affect the professor’s perception when grading the exams?”
The book wobbles, its thickness and weight difficult for Regulus at the moment. It’s captured by Sirius’ quick hand before it can make a print of Regulus’ face.
Ignorant of the near incident, Regulus grumbles out. “It’s all conjecture even within this intellectual source… understandable, to prevent mass cheating of our education system, but quite annoying that my curiosity would go unsatisfied…”
Oh, blimey.
James holds back a snort.
So a sleepy Regulus is a talkative Regulus.
“Naturally, there are proper use cases for such a charm… not confirmed, understandable again, but I suspect it’s used during witness relocation. With the subject’s identity as the secret. Given a new identity, the old identity would cease to exist, effectively causing the subject to ‘die.’ Practical for those wishing for a clean slate… but incredibly reliant on the integrity of the chosen person… this Secret Keeper. But what if this Secret Keeper perishes? The secret would be lost with them. Unless the organization documents that somehow… no, but that would defeat the spirit of the Fidelius Charm to have a paper trail at all…”
Groaning, Regulus squeezes his eyes shut and rolls over. The book drops heavily onto the bed sheets, nearly hitting Cassie, had she not too rolled over just in time. “Mh, ugh, too complex, too many means for this charm to backfire… to lead to difficulties…”
A lapse in Regulus’ word dump prompts James to trade looks with Sirius.
Well… what to do now? Bastard better take the lead here because they’re currently stuck in the dungeons because of him.
“… or would this charm allow a Death Eater to escape servitude from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? What if vice versa, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named took advantage of it, using the charm to erase the conviction of one of his but without truly?”
Only for James to choke, snapping his head back at Regulus. “What the f*ck.”
“What the bloody hell, Reggie?” Sirius rasps out. “This the kinda thing you two just casually think and talk about?”
At Sirius’ shaky stare, Cassie shrugs. “Reggie likes to think,” is her thoughtless answer. “It’s nonsense most of the time, but you should stay if you’re interested.”
At that, she yanks at Regulus’ robes and shuffles them towards the bed’s edge; Regulus’ even breathing doesn’t even stutter. She grants just enough space for one person to slip onto the bed beside them, which Sirius promptly occupies.
It leaves an irked James to stand awkwardly, his gaze flickering between the shut doors, just awaiting the return of little snakes and mentally preparing himself with excuses for the reason of Sirius’ and his presence here, and rolling his eyes at Sirius’ silly attempts at interrogating a sleepy Regulus and an evasive – “you think I understand half the things Reggie reads?” – Cassie.
Cassie was quite accurate; more nonsense pops out of Regulus than anything –
“… faking death… as Stubby Boardman…”
“… image manufacturing… true nature, secret… goblins are really pleasant, happy, and trusting…”
“… balding, buck-toothed man…” With a grind of his teeth, “That disgusting poor excuse of a man. Never picking up his books ever again, worse than some of Brother Sirius’ embellishments… better as fire starters…”
“… everything the Quibbler publishes… is the truth…”
“… mm, cookie jar… I don’t actually eat cookies.”
– which, while vastly entertaining, is not what they are here for. Or, more specifically, what James is here for. Because his brother from another mother, his same face, opposing side of the coin best mate bloody doses off just fifteen minutes in.
Leaving James to stare incredulously at three asleep Blacks.
The f*cking audacity.
No way dorm beds are that f*cking comfy, not for nobles used to spacious and luxurious silk sheets.
There’s a dainty arm curled around Regulus’ waist, overlaid by Sirius’ more muscular one. Cassie is using Regulus’ shoulder as a pillow, chubby cheeks squishing her face into a fishy pout, and Sirius’ nose is buried in his little brother’s hair.
They still have classes later in the day, and James knows by experience that nothing less than Professor McGonagall’s jinxes could wake Sirius. He can only assume that it’s a genetically shared trait. Oh, oooh, James is so bloody reporting Sirius for missing classes. The bastard left him alone to sneak out of the snakes’ dungeons; had he known beforehand this dilemma, he would’ve brought his invisibility cloak and Marauder’s map.
He’ll milk his revenge, and he’ll throw the bloody bastard under the bus too if he’s caught on the way out.
Then, he’ll milk the favors while dangling a pensive of his memory of the siblings curled up together. Sirius hoards the sweet moments of his horrid family as much as Remus with his chocolate treats.
James exhales heavily.
Fine, this is fine.
His stomach is still churning uncomfortably from the revelations today, and he knows he must report Cassie’s ability and Regulus’ theories to his parents.
But maybe, James thinks, he could attach a few pensives to the letter. They should know more about the rambunctious little lady than just her ability and more about the charming little young master than just his parents’ perverseness.
With the plan solidifying in his mind, James leaves with surer steps.
Now, to perform an escape heist that he could hold over his best mate’s head for years to come.
