Chapter Text
Harry didn't know what to expect out of the new magical school he was being sent to but so far, he was having a swell time.
"Oh, have you tried these?" Ron, the boy he met on the train, asked, holding up a small hexagon box. Harry, on an impulse, had bought the entire sweets trolley, the train carriage floor littered with wrappers, melted chocolate smeared at the corner of their lips and chin, having eaten their weight's worth in candy and yet nowhere done with the pile. "It's a chocolate frog! They come with collectible cards of famous wizard."
Harry peered closer, snapping open the box only for a brown frog to jump on his face. Startled, Harry jumped back, knocking off his glasses in the process, pressing against the seats.
"It's getting away!" Ron surged forward to grab the frog himself, the animated candy escaping through the gap between the window pane.
"Does all candy in the wizarding world jump like that?" Harry breathed out, trying to calm his racing heart, looking down at the card. Dumbledore. Harry recognised him from the Ministry Dinner, the old man oddly fixated on his scar.
"Maybe you should stay clear of the Cockroach Clusters." Ron shrugged, Harry's thoughts coming to a screeching halt. The what? Before Harry could fully process the possibility of edible insects, Ron handed Harry another sweet treat. "Try this one," he said, pulling Harry's attention back to the mini candy land they had managed to create in the train carriage.
Harry could almost hear Regulus' exasperated sigh and disapproving stare, imagining what he would have to say if he saw the mess. Be sure to thoroughly brush your teeth if you want to spare the visit to the Healers. Harry felt a painful tug in his chest. Barely two hours on the train and he already missed Regulus.
He missed home.
Thankfully, Ron's ramblings on which sweets would most likely not burn his tongue was a pleasant distraction. Ron, having learnt that Harry largely grew up Muggle, took it up on himself to explain everything in the wizarding world. "And there is this game called Exploding Snap that my brothers are wicked at. I will teach you once we reach Hogwarts—"
The door to the train carriage slid open, making Ron and Harry look up. "Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one—oh my!" A girl with curly hair paused at the door, staring at the mess the two boys made.
"Neville lost Trevor?" He had been meaning to search for the boy, having not spotted him at the station. "Again?" Harry ran a hand through his hair, blinking when the girl pinned him with a inscrutable look. Something people did a lot, Harry noticed, letting his hair fall over the scar.
"You are Harry Potter." The girl raised her eyebrows, taking a seat opposite the boys, sitting at the edge as if to avoid dirty surfaces. "I'm Hermione Granger."
"Ron Weasley." Ron introduced himself with a mouthful of Exploding Bonbons.
Hermione crinkled her nose, reigning in her disgust. "Pleasure." She turned to Harry. "Can you help me look for Trevor? We will be reaching soon."
"Yes, of course." Harry balanced his glasses over his nose, trying to squint past the cracked lens.
"Oh that won't do. We need all working eyes on the case." Hermione raised her wand and flicked her wrist. "Reparo." Harry watched, cross eyed as the glass melded and the crack disappeared, good as new. Harry had a feeling he would be needing that spell quite often.
The three set off to explore the length of the train, calling out to Trevor, Harry trying his best to console a fretting Neville, the boy a sniffling mess. "We'll find Trevor soon, Neville." Harry tried to comfort his friend.
"What if someone mistook him for a chocolate frog?" Neville cried as Harry, Ron, and Hermione cringed at the mental image, stomachs churning.
Ron had gone green, trying to expel the image out of his head. "For your sake and ours, we hope not." Ron mumbled, stamping down the urge to gag, gaze trained on the floor incase Trevor was hiding in a corner. Head ducked down, Ron did notice the gaggle of students walking in front of him, running into them head first. "Ow, watch where you're going...." The annoyance in Ron's voice trailed off as he took in the students he just bumped into.
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes when his gaze met the blond boy's. "Malfoy." He greeted half heartedly. While he had no intention of being friends with Draco, Regulus had asked him to play nice. Draco was flanked by two burly boys, a step behind the blond boy as if they were his bodyguards. Draco stared at the four with a frown, crossing his arms.
"Heir Black. Heir Longbottom." Draco spat out, scowling at Neville until the boy shrank away. He swiped his gaze across the four, arching an eyebrow. "And what do we have here? Red hair and hand me down clothes, you must be a Weasley." Draco sneered.
Ron jutted his chin out, refusing to be intimidated by him. "We don't have time to entertain you, Malfoy. So move over will you?" Ron tried to walk past them, the two boys pushing him back in place, forming a human wall, blocking the pathway.
"Not so Weasley, where is the fun in that? And who is this?" Draco turned to Hermione. "Which family do you belong to?"
Hermione squared up her shoulders, chin up. "Granger. Hermione Granger."
Draco narrowed his eyes, mouth curling in disgust. "Oh gosh, you're one of those, aren't you? A Mudblood?"
"Draco!" Neville breathed out. "That's too far....."
Hermione bristled, looking down at her feet, earlier confidence melting away as she looked out the window, blinking away tears. Harry's blood boiled, knuckles turning white as he fisted his robes, trying to keep his arms to himself. Draco reminded him of Dudley and his friends, stomping around the place, shoving people into the ground, talking down on them. Nobody should make someone feel that small.
Draco scoffed and pushed past to crowd into Neville's space, towering over the boy. "You watch your mouth, Longbottom."
A hand on Draco's shoulder grabbed him, almost slamming him into the carriage door, two identical boys rounding up on a disoriented Draco, using their height to back him into the wall. Two boys, who looked awfully similar to Ron, stared down at Draco with a mischievous grin. "What do we have here? A bunch of first years causing trouble?"
Draco's voice strained, keeping up the bravado, struggling to not stammer. "Oh great.....more Weasley pests. You drive one out, two more replace them."
"Fred, George." Ron breathed out in what sounded like relief with a twinge of annoyance. Harry figured they were brothers, remembering a whole platoon of red headed boys getting into the train with Ron.
Fred and George grinned down at the kids, waving before turning back to Draco and his lackeys. "Piss off Weasleys!" Draco lifted his chin, snarling at the twins who only laughed at Draco.
"Haven't even set foot into Hogwarts and the house rivalries have started, aye?" George grinned, waggling his eyebrows at his brother. "Fred, are you thinking what I am thinking?"
"Why of course, George, this simply cannot go unpunished." Fred said, pointing out the window for the first years to see the magnificent castle come into view, their stop near. "Getting into fights even before you get sorted into your houses, tch tch." Fred clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Our elder brother is a prefect now, you wouldn't want to cost your houses some points before even getting sorted now, would you?"
The first years bristled, looking down guiltily. "Come on, Crabbe, Goyle." Draco slithered away with his lackeys, not before shooting the four a dirty look over his shoulders. Something about that look told Harry that this was far from over.
"Bloody Slytherins." Ron scoffed under his breath.
Harry blinked. "My guardian was in Slytherin."
Ron jerked, flailing his arms. "I'm sure not all Slytherins are bad! It's just...they have a reputation of, you know, being evil."
Harry remembered the warm hand on his head when Regulus ruffled his hair or the soft smile he gave him while he said goodnight and had a hard time associating Regulus with the word evil. Instead of dwelling on it, he turned to the twins, tie nowhere in sight. "Which house do you both belong too?"
"Why Gryffindor of course." Fred shot him a handsome smile. "No other house I'd rather be in. Our family has been sorted into Gryffindor through generations. Not gonna break our streak are ya, Ron?"
Ron opened his mouth to retort when Neville suddenly shrieked, "Trevor!" Neville crouched down to pick up his toad, the little creature unaware of the chaos he just caused. "Hufflepuff wouldn't be so bad either." Neville murmured, to himself or Trevor, Harry did not know but heard it nevertheless.
"It's useless pondering over this, it's for the Sorting Hat to decide." Hermione brushed her curls out of her face, speaking up only after Draco had left, turning to Harry. "Why did that blond boy call you Heir Black? Aren't you Harry Potter?"
Harry felt his shoulders tense up, five sets of eyes staring at him, even the twins interested. "My guardian is Regulus Black."
Ron tilted his head. "The one at the station? What does he do?"
Harry blanked. What did Regulus do for a living? Harry belatedly realised that the times Regulus left him with Kreacher or Remus was probably when he was at work, but it never occurred to him to ask what exactly he did. He had no idea what Vernon Dursley did either. Or Remus for a fact.
"He must work with the Ministry. We met at the Ministry dinner, right?" Neville piped in when Harry took an uncomfortable pause, giving him a lead.
"Our father works at the Ministry too." George helped, tossing pieces of candy to each of the kids. "Which department?"
Harry was at a loss for words, shoulders tensing up as he felt the heavy gaze on him, wanting to melt into the floor. "I....I don't know. I met him just a month ago."
"You met him a month before getting to Hogwarts and he named you his heir?" Ron narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Don't you trust him a little too much?"
Harry felt a wave of irritation curl inside his chest, but he knew how it sounded. Raised muggle all his life and out of nowhere a stranger whisks him off to a world where magic exists did sound very suspicious. And any answer he sought out was effectively locked away until his fifteenth birthday.
Before Harry could reply, Fred reached out to smack the back of Ron's head. "Behave. Or I'm sending Mum a letter the minute the train stops."
"It was a valid question!" Ron argued, rubbing his head.
Harry simply shrugged. "Regulus, he was the only adult that cared about me. He's family, I trust him. Besides, it's not like I would understand any magical terms yet." Ron nodded, remembering Harry being raised a Muggle, Hermione offering to loan some reference textbooks that taught her about the Magical world, written specifically by Muggleborn wizards, the first years gathering their luggage as the train halted.
They were here. The mythical school everyone kept talking about. George clapped Harry's shoulders. "You kiddies are going to love it! Best seven years of your life!" The twins winked before joining the rest of their class, leaving the first years huddled together.
The dark forest was grim and quiet, Hedwig's chirping distracting Harry from the creepy shadows the branches cast on the forest floor. The uneasiness melted away when a familiar face came into view, jolly and bright, holding up a tiny lantern. "Hagrid!"
"Hey Harry, how are you doing? You look much better than the last time I saw ye." Hagrid smiled at him, pulling his cheeks. "Mr Black taking good care of you, ain't he?"
Harry winced at the sting left behind by Hagrid's affection, rubbing his cheek but smiling nevertheless. "He did. So did Moony, I mean, Mr. Remus. He was a friend of my father."
"Ah Mr. Lupin, brilliant young man." Hagrid's loud voice rumbled over them, the gamekeeper leading them through the boat towards the main steps. "All yours, Professor McGonagall." He said with a flourish, depositing the first years on the threshold of the magical school, McGonagall ready to receive them.
McGonagall stood tall and poised, dressed in a set of deep green and black robes, hair carefully pinned back, a pointed hat balanced atop her head. "First Years, follow me." The professor walked briskly, heels clacking against the marble floor as she led them through a corridor, stopping before a huge wooden door. "Now, get into order, we will start with the sorting soon." She explained the origin of the four houses, what each represents and how they would be sorted. "It is a collective effort to uphold the values expected out of a Hogwarts student. To foster that, the houses will engage in a year long competition to acquire the most points. These points can be awarded or deducted by teachers, the Head Boy and Girl and through winning Quidditch games, competing for the House Cup at the year end."
"Bet you, Slytherin will win the House Cup this year." Draco and his lackeys hovered around the four, sneering now that the older Weasleys weren't around to shoo them off. "Last chance to switch teams, The-Boy-Who-Lived."
Harry pinned Draco with a bored look. "The only team I'll be switching to is the one you aren't on, Malfoy."
"Then, care to wager?" Draco arched an eyebrow, extending a hand. "Whichever house you get sorted into, it wouldn't last in front of Slytherin."
Harry stared at the hand that extended towards him for the second time, this time, offering a competition instead of a friendship. Harry bit his lip, million thoughts racing through his mind. "I'll make that bet, Malfoy." Harry took Draco's hand, shaking it.
"May the best house win. I'm no seer but- it will be us." Draco grinned, leaning forward to whisper. "Loser does whatever the winner wants."
Harry felt the corner of his lips tug upward. "Don't get ahead of yourself. We have the whole year."
Their hands fell as McGonagall stepped aside as she finished explaining the rules of sorting, giving the First Years a short smile. "And lastly, welcome to Hogwarts."
And the doors opened.
Harry gulped as his name was called out, shaky knees walking up to the sorting hat. Behind the chair was a long table, Dumbledore at the centre, flanked by professors on either sides, watching him with curious gazes. The black haired professor on Dumbledore's left specifically, the one Regulus warned him about, black eyes drilling into Harry with a look so intense it made bile rise up the back of his throat.
Harry tore his gaze away as he sat on the chair, letting McGonagall place the sorting hat on his head. He had wondered how an old ratty hat would determine the house he was supposed to spend the next seven years in. He glanced down at the Gryffindor table where Ron, Hermione and Neville were already seated, looking quite happy with their sorting. Well, Neville looked queasy but he did let out a sigh of relief as he walked past the Slytherin table.
"Hmmm, interesting." A voice echoed in Harry's mind, almost jerking him out of the chair, frantically looking around. "Stop fidgeting, or I'll fall of your head. I'm the Sorting Hat."
The hat talks? Harry's head spun. In all the conversations he had with Regulus, Remus and Ron about Hogwarts Houses, none of them thought to mention that an inanimate object was going to judge his character and sort him into a house that will be associated withhim for the rest of his life.
"You are one interesting lad, aren't ya? Born of Gryffindors but raised by a Slytherin." The hat mused, Harry slightly miffed at the thoughts intruding straight into his brain. "Nature vs. nurture. Which path will you tread on, Heir Black?"
Before stepping into Hogwarts, Harry didn't really have much of a preference when it came to Houses. But the thought of spending seven years in close proximity to Draco Malfoy gloating about his father was enough to change his mind. "Please not Slytherin. Please not Slytherin." He mumbled, eyes squeezed shut.
"Hmm. So you've made your choice." The Sorting Hat contemplated before yelling out, "Gryffindor!"
Harry felt a knot unravel in his chest, sighing in relief as Ron and the Gryffindors erupted in cheers. Hands reached out to ruffle his hair or pat his shoulder as he walked past the table, welcoming him to the House, Ron scooting to make space for Harry. Harry tried to ignore the heavy gaze on him, unblinking since he walked down from the dias to the table, scrutinising him.
Regulus had warned Harry of people who wouldn't take to him kindly at Hogwarts, specifically because of his scar. The Boy Who Lived was bound to have many enemies. But why a professor? And why would Regulus be wary of a fellow slytherin? Harry had no idea what he did to fall into the mysterious professor's radar, the man staring at Harry, as if trying to set him on fire by mere gaze alone, which, after his lessons with Regulus, he knew was entirely plausible.
Harry tugged on Fred's sleeve. "Who is that professor? The one on Dumbledore's left?"
Fred followed his line of sight. "Oh that's Professor Snape. Housemaster of Slytherin."
Harry turned around, the room dark and cold. There was a person in front of, facing away from him. Harry inched forward, dark shadows falling like curtains around him.
The man in front removed his turban, the bald back of his head morphed and dented. Two eyelike slits snapped open, making Harry jerk back. A mouth like form peeled open, mumbling.
Green. Blinding lights, a bloodcurdling yell. "You should have chosen Slytherin."
Harry gasped awake, sweat drenching his sleep shirt, damp and uncomfortable. Harry threw his covers aside, walking down to the common room, sitting by the window. The midnight breeze felt cool on his forehead, anxiety loosening his grip on his racing heart, breathing becoming easier as the minutes ticked by. Harry bought his knees close to his chest, trying to ignore the burn behind his eyelids, sitting in the dark common room, alone.
Alone. Something Regulus made sure Harry never felt since he left the Dursleys.
Had he been at home, Regulus would have heard him wake up. He would have stayed up with him, brew him a cup of tea and waited by his bedside until he fell asleep.
Harry felt his throat clam up, resting his forehead on his knees. I want to go home.
A dull crash and a muffled yelp made Harry's neck snap up, swivelling his gaze around the room to find Neville hopping on one leg, clutching his knee, freezing when he noticed Harry. "Sorry, I didn't mean to cause a ruckus."
"It's fine." Harry choked out. "I was up anyway."
Neville shuffled his way through the dark room, lit only by moonlight, settling into a seat opposite Harry's. "Couldn't sleep in a new place?"
Harry shrugged. The unfamiliar environment wasn't the problem. His first night had Grimmauld's had been the most peaceful sleep of his life. The problem was Regulus' absence. "I....had a nightmare."
Neville nodded. "I understand. I get a lot of them too." The boy looked skittish, as if hesitant to voice his thoughts but peddling forward anyway. "Talking about it helps sometimes. I'll listen if you want."
"I.....don't quite know how to explain it? It was....obscure. A lot of yelling, flashes of green." Harry didn't recall much from the nightmare, the images fading once he woke up, but the unsettled feeling lingered.
"I get those sometimes. But in red. Gran says that certain powerful," Neville leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper, "curses shoot out with colourful flashes. My parents.....they suffered from an Unforgivable that lets our red flashes when used."
Harry sat up straighter. "Unforgivables?"
Neville picked at the stray thread of his pajama bottoms. "My parents fought You-Know-Who. They were tortured by him. They don't recognise me anymore. Gran raised me all by herself."
Harry stared at the boy in front of him, not expecting their past to be this similar. "Your parents must have fought valiantly."
"As must yours." Neville gave him a small smile. "Goodnight, Harry."
It was not comparable to a nightly talk and tea with Regulus but Harry felt a little less lonely, lips quirking up in a half smile. "Goodnight, Neville."
"He made the team? In his first year?" Regulus raised the cup of tea to his lips to hide a smile as Remus stared at Harry's letter, a grin splitting across his face. "On a direct recommendation from Minnie?! And seeker at that? Oh you must be simpering."
Regulus raised an eyebrow with a half shoulder shrug, yet the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him. Regulus was positively beaming with pride. Hedwig had stopped by Grimmauld Place an hour before Remus', Regulus almost choking on his tea when he read the letter. "This boy is proving to be more troublesome than the four of you combined."
Remus chuckled at that, still staring at the letter. "Better mail him his broom."
Regulus picked up his quill, already one step ahead.
Congrats on making seeker Harry. I'm proud of you.
Harry smiled to himself, eyes tracing over the words repeatedly, pocketing the letter as he unwrapped his broom, the one Regulus gifted him when he first came to live with him. For his birthday.
Oliver ruffled his hair as he passed by him at the Gryffindor table. From the professors table upfront, McGonagall nodded at him with a small smile. The Quidditch robes felt tight around his neck, stomach churning as Neville managed to coax him to have a toast and glass of orange juice.
A pointy elbow knocked into him, making the glass clank against teeth painfully. Harry hissed, wet coughs wracking out of him as some of the juice went up his nose.
"Whoops. Didn't see you there, Potter." Draco smirked, elbowing the Slyhterins as they laughed at the orange juice stain on Harry's Quidditch robes, sauntering away.
"Don't mind them, Harry. They are just jealous, they can't make the team just yet." Ron reassured him, shooting the Slytherins a nasty look over his shoulder. "No pressure, but you must not let Slytherin win today."
"No pressure?" Harry repeated weakly, nose burning as Hermione waved her wand, lifting the stain with an easy spell. She knew a lot of spells for someone who knew about the wizarding world for just as long as Harry did. And without a magical guardian at that. Within the first few weeks, the boys had learnt that it was best to not question Hermione.
"Don't scare him, Ron." Hermione chastised, giving Harry an easy encouraging smile. "It's more important to have fun."
"And win the House Cup."
"Ronald Weasley!"
Harry and Neville tuned the two out with practiced ease, letting them bicker as they headed outside, splitting as Harry moved towards the Quidditch pitch with the team while Ron, Hermione and Neville made their way to the stands.
"Ready for ya first game, Harry?" George asked as Harry searched through the stands. Regulus had written that he would attend, wanting to see his first match.
"Hmm? Oh, I won't lie, a little, yes." Harry answered, distracted. The letter kept getting heavier in his pocket, imagining the words in Regulus' voice. I'm proud of you.
"Don't worry, we the beaters solemnly swear to protect you form the bludgers." George spread his arms in a dramatic proclamation, earning a small smile from Harry.
When Harry turned his attention back to the visitors stand, there he was, raising his hand in a slight wave, the man who only wore neutrals donning colours. For him.
Regulus stood in the front, dressed in all black except for the red scarf around his neck, Harry's house colours.
He came.
"Has it started yet?" Remus asked, short of breath as he sided up beside Regulus.
"No, you've made it just in time. I didn't think you'd make it, Lupin?" Regulus said, spotting Harry on the opposite side of the pitch, raising his hand to wave at the boy. After years of being alone, the three managed to create a small village of sorts for themselves. A family stitched off a double agent, a werewolf and an orphaned boy. Unconventional yet unsurprising. Nothing about the Marauders or their lives had been conventional.
"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss it for the world. Little lion's first Quidditch match. I even got the camera." Remus pointed to the device slung over his neck before noticing Regulus' own little accessory. "Are you wearing a Gryffindor scarf?" He asked with a teasing glint in his eyes.
Regulus refused to look at Remus, eyes trained forward on the pitch. "No. It is just a red scarf."
Remus's eyes softened. "This scarf, it used to be James', wasn't it?"
"It's mine. It was a gift." Regulus claimed stubbornly. "It hasn't been James' since my fifth year." Regulus pinched the fabric between his thumb and index finger, the wool worn out, well loved, messily mended at the fraying edges. The man who hated colour was wearing a bright red scarf, all for the child who wormed his way into his heart with a toothless, gummy smile, eleven years ago.
To a stranger, it looked like a parent supporting their child's team. But to Remus, who recognised the scarf instantly, knew the history. The scarf anchored them back to a time when things were simpler. Happier.
September, 1976
"Black, wait up!" Regulus sighed, pivoting on his heel, letting a breathless James catch up to him. He had long given up on knocking some sense of decorum into his brother's best friend, instead answering to the uncouth yells nowadays.
"What is it, Potter?" Regulus asked with a bored voice, arching an eyebrow when James rocked on his heels, eyes darting all over the place, looking everywhere but at Regulus. Regulus didn't know why that bothered him.
"Will you....I mean, I wanted to ask if you would...are you....um." James kept backtracking his sentences, the usually confident and boisterous boy stumbling over his words.
"Spit it out, Potter. I haven't got all day."
"Will you come to the match?" James blurted out, cheeks heating up as he hurried to explain. "The Quidditch match tomorrow. I'm playing against Ravenclaw."
Regulus tilted his head, confused. "I think you might have gotten the wrong Black brother." Regulus turned to leave, only for a warm, calloused hand to grab his wrist. "What in the— unhand me!"
"I don't need to tell Sirius, he will be at the stand screaming regardless of what I say." James said wryly, a dash of fondness sprinkled in his voice. A green envy hissed from Regulus' chest at the boy who stood in his place, beside his brother. Regulus knew he was jealous, he was self aware but sometimes the lines blurred. Who was he really jealous of? James who replaced him and got to stand by Sirius' side like a loyal brother?
Or Sirius, who possessed the attention of James Fleamont Potter.
"I'm inviting you." James managed to get the words out, Regulus blinking as he processed the request, James hesitant, searching his face for answers. Worried that Regulus would say no.
As if, Regulus held the strength to turn down James.
"Why?" Regulus managed to choke out. "Why do you want the enemy watching you, Potter? We have a match in two weeks."
James shrugged and shot him that darned charming smile that made Regulus' knees weak, fingers still wrapped around Regulus' wrist, thumb rubbing circles over his pulse point. "It can't hurt to scope out the competition, now can it?"
"And why would you want that?"
"Oh I don't care. All that matters is that your eyes are on me." He said smoothly, having absolutely no clue or regard for the effect he had on Regulus's poor staggering heart. James let go of Regulus' wrist to reach up and remove the red scarf, wrapping it around Regulus' neck. "And will you wear this? It will be easier to spot you in the crowd. Wearing my colours, that is." James smiled, devilishly handsome and ran off when his name was called by some Gryffindor, not waiting for Regulus' reply.
Regulus tossed and turned that night, feet dragging him towards the stands against his will, wearing the blasted scarf, the idiot having no idea about the effect he had on Regulus.
Or maybe, in hindsight, James knew exactly what he was doing, because it wasn't long before he managed to wear down Regulus, chasing after him and won a date to Hogsmead six months later. Regulus sighed, a familiar bittersweet ache flooding his veins, something that happened often when he thought about James or got lost in the memories. It was his sign to distract himself before he went down the road of what-ifs and spiraled.
Madam Hooch's shrill whistled was strong enough to jolt Regulus out of the past as the game started and Harry soared.