TITLE: I, Sirius

AUTHOR: Lady Sirius

PAIRING: RL/SB

RATING: NC17

FEEDBACK:

DISCLAIMER: Of course all rights to Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling

- I only wish that Sirius and Remus were mine, other than in my heart!

DEDICATION: To my glorious, talented, wondrous and everlastingly sexy

inspiration - Gary Oldman - and to all those fans whose enthusiasm and kind words keep me going!

I, Sirius

Reflections of the Brightest Star

Chapter XIII - A Big Bear Hug

First year was hard on so many of the students, basically because it represented the first time they'd been away from their parents for any length of time, and also because it was a bit of a shock to be thrust together with so many strangers and expected to live with them day in and day out, not to mention learn how to become proper witches and wizards - no mean feat, mind you - and learn to control the magic that resided inside of them. Having said that, I myself didn't find any of that bothersome per se because I had come to expect nothing from anyone at #12 Grimmauld and quite frankly anything had to be better than what I had there, which was precious damn little. Hogwarts was bigger, brighter and freer than home, with the added advantage of being many many kilometers away from it. Granted, there were some there whose presences I could definitely dispense with, having become acquainted with their families already within my relatively short life, either through blood or social connectivity, and others whom I was learning to hate with a passion - basically because he is a slackjawed, bignosed opinionated, bastardly... What, Remus? Oh, you think they get the point, do you? Very well, moving on.

The greatest wizard that ever lived was without a doubt Albus Dumbledore. I say that without hesitation or reservation, and will brook no dissenting opinions from the peanut gallery in the matter. When he died, it was the worst tragedy to ever befall the wizarding world bar none. And I don't mean just that he was a powerful wizard, which undoubtedly he was. More powerful than that lilylivered limpwristed Voldemort - and no, by limpwristed, I do not mean he was gay, I would not insult gay people in that way. What, Remus, you say of course I wouldn't, because I am gay? Au contraire, mon frere, I am not gay, nor am I heterosexual. I am Remus-sexual, there's a difference. What's the difference, you ask? I'll show you tonight.

Where was I? Oh yes...

Albus was like the father I always wished I'd had, he was much more of one to me than Orion ever was, may his soul burn for eternity. Orion Black was a weak, spineless man, one that couldn't stand up for himself, much less his children, thought only of himself and of staying out of the way of his vicious nasty wife/cousin. If ever there were an argument against inbreeding, just look at the majority of the members of the pureblooded variety - myself not excepted - and you'll see a vast array of genetic defects, a virtual alphabet soup of deficiencies. Is it any wonder that most of them ended up sorted into the snakehouse? That house was a collecting ground for evil germs, a disgusting cesspool, a veritable cauldron of undesireable genetic traits which certainly didn't need to be combined into the resultant cacophany of dimwitted, vicious, malicious warmongers which emerged from that poisonous soup. My entire family, save for myself, was Slytherin. Voldemort was Slytherin. And of course Snivellus was Slytherin. What Lily ever saw in him was beyond me, why she ever allowed his friendship, why she... What, Remus? Pssh, man, you see good in everyone. Even me. You're too tenderhearted. A hopeless romantic. Luckily for me.

As I was saying, Albus was always good to me, even when he was chastising me - and don't think for a minute that he didn't do that, because he did. A lot. And of course, looking back at the bit of a prat that I could be, I have to admit that I deserved it, even if I didn't think so back then. But even during the worst of his lectures - you'd be surprised at some of the colourful language that man could use - I always knew it was for my own good, so I bore it. Alright, maybe I wasn't always that mature, Remus, not then. And yes, I did a lot of swearing of my own as well as carrying on - and a lot of detention. James too. I don't think there isn't any form of detention that can be thought of that we didn't serve at one time or another. Not a trophy that we didn't polish. A floor we didn't scrub. Books we didn't copy verbatim til we our fingers fairly stuck to our quills.

And if Albus was my substitute father figure, there was someone else at Hogwarts that was the big brother I never had but always wanted. What, Remus, did you really just say Slughorn? That oily sycophantic wannabe social climber? Puh-lease. I'll talk about him later, but right now I'm talking about Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid. Gamekeeper and keeper of the keys at Hogwarts. But so much more, so very much more. He was a big man, and I'm not merely talking about size, although his physical presence was enormous, but rather I am speaking of his heart - he had the biggest heart, I think, of just about anyone I've ever known. Other than Remus. Yes, I do mean that. But Hagrid is a close second, believe me.

I had met him upon our arrival, of course, for it was his job to escort all the first years to the school, across the lake, in self-propelled boats, and I remember marvelling that his didn't tip over with the weight of him. But of course it didn't. He delivered us to McG, telling us all to be "good'uns" and favouring us with his warm smile which most of us were too frightened to return. Not me, of course. Or James. But we were the exception, rather than the rule, I think.

My first actual encounter with him, and the beginning of our relationship, comes after that. It was just a few weeks into school, I think, and things were moving along rather swimmingly. I'd had no further contact with the inhabitants of #12 Grimmauld, which neither surprised nor disheartened me - at least not directly. Slughorn pulled me aside one day to confide that my mother had sought his help in getting me reassigned to his house - did I mention that he was the head of Slytherin as well as potions master? - and that he was taking the matter to Dumbledore himself for intercession on my behalf. How I trembled to hear that, how my heart fairly stopped beating within my breast as I stumbled back to the table I shared with Remus, terrifying him in the process. He was so concerned over me that he made me sit with my head between my legs, thinking I was about to faint. Is that really the proper procedure for that, Remus? You always did know more about first aid and such than I did. Here, let's test that theory. No, I want to put my head between your legs, see if it works that way too... Ouch, now why did you slap me, was that called for?

Yes, yes, back to my point.

Once Slughorn told me that I feared for the worst, expecting every moment to receive an official missive informing me that I was to pack up and move to the dungeons. I could barely eat, and Remus seemed to share my affliction, although I'd not told him what was happening, not wishing to alarm him. But he figured it out somehow. So that the morning in question, when the mail flew in and I saw that there was indeed one for me, I was rather actually relieved to note that it was a howler, which made it unlikely to be anything sent by Albus Dumbledore. But just to be safe, I grabbed the damn thing and raced out of the Great Hall, leaving my food untouched, until I had gained the privacy of the outdoors where the screeching commenced.

Sirius Black, can you do nothing right? I can find no other explanation for this outrage than that you are working against me, against your own family. What can you be thinking, boy? I found a way for you to redeem yourself, to repair the damage that was done when you were wrongly sorted into that lowly Gryffindor, so that your poor brother will be able to hold his head up when he too attends the school. But no, no, you cannot cooperate, even though your own potions master spoke up for you. That miserable headmaster refused to make the change, said that it would not be in your best interest. If you think the matter is done, you are sadly mistaken, and be aware that if you dare to bring any of those filthy animals you room with to this house, they will discover what lies in the lower regions of the house, and perhaps you will too...

I was trembling by this time - a combination of outrage, relief, and pain - her caustic voice driving me to run, to run blindly, in my vain efforts to get beyond the agonizing sound, a futile attempt as I still held said missive within my hand. Heated tears stung my eyes. I was not yet completely inured against her callous indifference, her matriarchal viciousness. Somewhere inside of me I still cared - I was but eleven years old, Merlin help me - and I hurt. I hurt a great deal. Searing pains that surged through my body and forced me to move, as if by so doing I could outrun my pain. I didn't care where, I didn't care how, I simply wanted it to stop.

My headlong impetuous flight came to an abrupt halt when I slammed into something rather huge and unyielding, and my first thought was that I had hurtled myself into one of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. But that notion was neatly dispelled when a pair of arms went immediately around me, keeping me from falling backward onto my arse - no tree, not even those trees, were capable of such an act. I wiped at my eyes, hastily sniffling, attempting to regain some of my dignity as I peered up to be met with the kindly eyes of Rubeus Hagrid. If he noticed my distress, he kept it to himself, nor did he take any notice of my dangerous proximity to forbidden territory. Dumbledore had made it very clear that first years were not allowed in the Forest, no exceptions. But as you'll discover, Hagrid was one to, although not break the rules, bend them just a bit, for what he considered to be a good cause.

"Sorry 'bout that," he apologized, "hope I didn't hurt you any." He began to brush his huge hands over me, as if seeking to dislodge whatever he may have inadvertently covered me with when I so negligently banged into him, but his touch was very gentle indeed.

"N-no," I gulped hastily, shaking my head, "I'm not hurt."

"Good," he said, ceasing his ministrations finally, and giving me a shrewd onceover with his intuitively cagey eyes. He looked as if there were a question upon the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it, instead saying, "I'm in the middle of sumpin, why don't you give me a hand, you look a sturdy enough lad." And without waiting for a response, he turned and began to walk a little ways, parallel to but not entering the forest. It was then I realized that I had managed to run all the way to his own little hut.

I stood there for a minute, indecisively, before I swallowed what was left of my distress, hastening after the retreating figure of the gamekeeper, catching up with him only because he stopped in a field about a hundred yards or so beyond his hut. He put his fingers to his mouth, giving a piercing whistle that reverberated through me, and which was quickly answered by the sound of thudding feet and baying, as his boarhound, Fang, joined us there.

"There you are, you daffy dog," Hagrid muttered. I hadn't noticed before but hanging from the enormous belt which girded his rather large waist were various small cages, while hung about his neck was a shiny object upon a sort of a rope. He seemed to scan the area where he stood, why I wasn't sure, as if searching for some sort of sign. Apparently he found one, pointing out a particular spot to Fang. "There," he said, "dig there..."

The large dog began to do just that, huge paws scrabbling into the soil, burrowing in as if looking for something. I was baffled as to what that something might be, or what my purpose here might be, but it kept my mind occupied and helped me to forget my hurt. Hagrid handed me one of the cages, opening the door. It was lightweight, appeared to be made of some sort of wood or bamboo. "Here," he said, "when they come up to see what's going on, talk to them gently and let them in there..." He was preparing another cage for himself even as he spoke.

"When who do what?" I asked, confused, "what am I looking for, Hagrid?"

"Why, nifflers, o'course," he replied as if I should have known all along. "They like to burrow a bit, they do, but Fang is good at finding them, he is. When they pops their heads up to have a looksee, just talk to them, tell them that they are nice fellows and put them into the cage. Not very hard at all, not really, Sirius."

I shouldn't have been surprised to find he knew my name, it seemed that my reputation - and my family's - invariably preceded me, but I gave him an anxious look, unsure as to just what he might have heard. He returned my gaze levelly, his eyes warm and friendly, no hint of prejudice in them, no predisposed tendencies that I could discern, so I was able to relax, even as I wondered what a niffler was. I didn't remember reading anything about them in any of my textbooks. But, to be fair, I seldom opened them either, even then. So I was more than a little curious, and quite interested, my questing mind kicking in and overriding my sore heart.

At that moment, Fang began to yelp, and we turned as of one accord toward the sound of his barking. I spied several small heads - actually I saw long snouts first - sniffing cautiously before emerging from the dirt which the dog had disturbed. As I learned later nifflers live in lairs, some of which can be up to twenty feet underground. Obviously the lair which Fang had uncovered was closer to the surface than that.

I felt Hagrid nudge me, a gentle push which quickly had me down on my knees, as sometimes he does forget his own strength. "Talk to them," he encouraged me, "coax them into that there cage, Sirius."

What does one say to a creature one has never set eyes on before and of whose nature one is completely ignorant? I wished Remus was there, he would surely know what to do and say, he had an affinity with everything - human and creature. But he wasn't, and the situation was mine to deal with. So I decided simply to give it my best shot. "C'mere, Mr. Niffler, it's a lovely day for a stroll, don't you think? I have something for you, I do..." and I tentatively shook the small cage in his general direction.

The niffler, as I now took the time to discover, was black and fluffy, with shiny black eyes, and long claw-like toes. The creature sniffed the air with its long snout, or perhaps the correct term is niffled. Yes, I do believe it is. It niffled as it began to move toward me. Another nudge from Hagrid, and I hastily set the cage before it, coaxing it along with sundry remarks upon the weather, and how fine Mr. Niffler looked, until he walked into the cage with a rather pleased look at me, followed, I noted with pleased surprise, by a few of his friends.

Hagrid then removed the shiney object about his neck and waved it above the hole from which the creatures had issued, setting another cage within reach, and sure enough more of the nifflers appeared, and soon he had talked another half dozen into captivity. "There, that should do," he said with a satisfied nod, as he shut and latched the doors to both cages, taking mine from me, and hoisting both up into his strong grasp.

"You're not going to... I mean..." I began hesitantly as it occurred to me to wonder for the first time what his intentions were, and what I had just helped him to do, hoping that it was nothing harmful to the nifflers. They seemed rather friendly creatures, after all, and had given us no trouble.

As if he could read my mind, he hastily began to deny any such unspoken charge. "Oh no, no," he assured me, "these little fellers are not going to be hurt. They're going to work."

"Work?"

"Work," he chuckled, as he motioned me to move toward his hut. "Gringott's - that's the goblin bank, if ye'll recall - they place orders for them when they need them, and I send them to them. Treasure hunters, they are. Damn good ones. Attracted particularly to shiney things, they are. People with lots of jewelry should stay clear of them, though, sometimes they bite when they're overexcited."

From behind us, I could hear shouts that were obviously meant to gain our attention, familiar voices, and I glanced up to see that we were being overtaken by my three compatriots - James in the fore, because that boy invariably had to be first, Peter right behind him, and Remus serenely in the rear, a worried expression upon his face which cleared when he saw me smile and realized I was alright.

"Ah, your friends've found you," Hagrid murmured, "good, good. Come, gentlemen," as they drew nearer, "how about some tea?" And he ushered us into his hut, setting the cages onto the table which fairly dominated the room, where we could both admire and communicate with the inhabitants while he put on the kettle, and Fang settled down on the floor near us, taking a nap.

And that, as they say, was the start of a beautiful friendship.

There were many such times, good times, to be had there in that little hut, with that most compassionate man. He never judged, never censured, never complained. He enjoyed his job, loved the school, and thought the world of Albus Dumbledore. It almost killed him when Albus died...

Hang on, give me a minute.

Damn, I hate when I do that. Must be allergies. Yes, allergies, Remus, never heard of them? What do you mean, what do I mean? Making my bloody eyes water so. Yes, thank you, I would appreciate that handkerchief, love, you're very thoughtful. Was that the door? I thought I heard something.

Oh bloody hell, woman, do you have to make an entrance like that, have you never learned to walk properly? What? Well, no, I guess I haven't, have I?

I've just been reminded that I've completely left out all mention of someone who claims to have played a major part in the story of my life. Be reasonable, I'm still on my first year, you're not even born yet. Yes, I know I've skipped around a bit. A little. At times. No, no, no! Do NOT jump in my lap...

NYMPHADORA! What the bloody hell have you been eating? I feel like I'm holding an elephant. Alright, alright... Next chapter, I promise. Yes, coming attractions - lo and behold, I'll give you the story of Nymphadora Tonks.

Dammit, you didn't have to hit me like that. Remus, stop laughing.