The Shrieking Shack || The Marauders (Book 1)

SIRIUS

One October afternoon, Sirius found himself lounging on a chair in the History of Magic class, barely listening to Professor Binns rattling on about the settlement of wizards' society in Europe. Looking out of the window as sunshine weaved beautiful patterns on the rippling surface of the Dark Lake and he took in a deep breath. Sometimes he had a hard time believing it- believing that he was actually out of the hell hole, that he no longer had to worry about what he said or how he said it, the way he walked or the way he looked. He didn't have to worry about the dreadful worn-out black stick his mother kept at the back of her closet, reserved for Sirius every time he misbehaved.

Though Sirius Black did have something to worry about, he realized, as he looked at the tiny morose face of James Potter who was sitting beside him, frantically taking notes for the class. Sirius leaned over and looked into his parchment to see what all he had written only to find most of the page covered in doodles of brooms and a few indiscernible scribbled lines.

It had been a month since James had crashed into the Whomping Willow and he had done all his detentions with Professor McGonagall for the past thirty days. Although he did a good job hiding it, but Sirius knew that James was still quite devastated about his broken broom. The next day after what the Gryffindors had started calling the 'Whomping Incident', James had received a howler during breakfast from his mother. You could also hear his father laughing in the background from time to time although it was very faint. It had been absolutely humiliating; Severous Snape had laughed the loudest and Lily Evans had looked at them with such superiority in her eyes, both enjoying every bit of their embarrassment.

Sirius was startled back to the present by the sound of the chairs screeching against the floor as everyone got up. The period was over and Remus and Peter, who had been sitting on the very first bench of the classroom, came back to join them at their desk.

"So what are we doing this evening?" Peter asked, looking at James who just shrugged.

But Sirius smiled and with a twinkle in his eyes said- "I have an idea."

That evening Sirius dragged James to the Quidditch field through a lot of protests and fits on James's part, while Peter carried the two brooms that they had borrowed from the school's broom shed and Remus called Coach Spinnet for supervision.

They flew for hours, practising only the basics- flying in different directions and on different altitudes as Peter and Remus cheered from the stands and Coach Spinnet dozed off only to wake up every now and then to look at them for a minute or two and the dozing off again.

Soon this became a daily practice. Sirius would drag James to the field among a parade of protests from him even though he'd later admit that he had a decent time. They would borrow two brooms from the school's shed and ask Coach for supervision. The school brooms were quite faulty and old. Some would always fly a bit to the left or right, while some wobbled. And yet, they could feel themselves getting better at it.

Sirius marched into the castle with James who ruffled his already messy back hair, both soaked from head to foot, after having another go on one of the school's old brooms one rainy November evening. Coach Spinnet had given them some pointers on flying in the rain and Sirius couldn't be more pleased for James's sake because Mark Mason, the Captain of Gryffindor Quidditch team, had told him only a few days ago that Spinnet only gave his time to potentially good flyers and Sirius knew James had his heart set on being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "At this rate," said James, climbing up the marble staircase. "No doubt we'll make it to the team next year."

"Oh I don't know..." said Sirius. "Quidditch isn't really my thing."

"What are you talking about? You love Quidditch."

"Yeah, well-"

"Firsties in the corridor? Filch will like to know about it!" came the rasping voice of Peeves the Poltergeist and they looked up to find a small man bobbing upside-down in mid-air.

"We're well under curfew, what are you talking about?" asked Sirius.

"Wee Black, is it?" he asked, zooming over and around their heads and then finally settling atop a gargoyle statue.

"Peeves?" asked James cautiously. "What's that in your hand?"

A malicious grin spread over his face as he huffed up his lungs and shrieked at the top of his voice- "Vandalism! Vandalism on first floor."

He then threw the little round and black ball that he was holding in their general direction and zoomed away laughing as green smoke engulfed them. Sirius pulled his robes over his nose as he coughed and gagged.

"Ugh! Dungbomb." He heard James say as they both tried to navigate out of the intolerable green cloud.

"That's enough! That's the last time! I won't have any of it!" bellowed Filch hobbling towards them. He jumped right into the dung cloud, caught Sirius and James by the scruff of their robes and dragged them out.

"Thought you'd get smart, did you?"

"But- it wasn't us-"

"Causing a havoc! In the middle of the corridor! Dungbomd, eh?" He was now dragging them towards the marble staircase they had just climbed.

"That ought to earn you a detention! Follow me!" He let go of them and they almost toppled down the staircase as he shuffled forward.

Sirius had never even considered the idea that Filch would have his own office, even if it was basically a glorified broom cupboard. It was a little dark room lit by a single oil lamp that dangled dangerously from the ceiling. The walls were lined with large wooden cabinets which served the purpose of cramping the already small space and storing the details of all the students who had ever gotten themselves in trouble with Filch. The remaining space in his tiny office was taken up by a desk which was strewn with parchments and dusty old books, which surprised Sirius quite a bit as he didn't really think Filch could read. An impressive collection of chains and shackles hung on the wall behind his desk though some of them seemed to be missing as if taken down for cleaning or repair.

Filch grabbed a quill and a pot from his desk and then rummaged around for parchment, muttering furiously under his breath the whole time. He retrieved a long roll of parchment and stretched it out in front of him muttering. "I've had enough, make an example of it this time, I will."

"Name?"

"Peeves" said Sirius. Filch narrowed his eyes at him.

"He threw the dungbomb, not us." James explained.

"Oh, I don't care who it was, boy. A dungbomb was let off in the corridor above and I want to see someone punished!" he thundered. "Spend day and night cleaning after you little brats but I've had enough of it, I tell you!"

"But we didn't do it!"

"Names?!"

"We're not telling you. We didn't do anything," said Sirius airily.

"Tell me your names or I'll take you to a teacher, I will!"

It barely took them a minute to convince Professor Mcgonagall that they were indeed innocent by showing her their clean hands which didn't have the characteristic black grime that dungbomb left behind when handled and another minute to explain that Peeves was behind it all. Filch left her office fuming and cursing about pesky little students.

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A/N: I know its a rather awkward point to finish the chapter but it would have been too long otherwise. Anyways, please tell me what you thought about it in the comments.

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