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The Best Thing Ever


“....and then they told me about how Mrs. P was almost married to my dad and on the wedding day Mr. P showed up in the invisibility cloak to save her and he fought my father and stole her away. They erased everything about her being Mia so that the Blacks could never find her, so she’d be safe with him and they could live happily in peace and have James - the bugger - and all that!”

Sirius was ecstatically hissing the whole tale to Remus and Peter as they sat in the alcove off the Trophy Room Passageway with the 1953-54 yearbook open to the page of Charlus and Dora at the Yule Ball in their seventh year. James had been brought off to McGonagall’s office to talk with his parents as well and the moment class had let out, the other three Marauders had charged at full speed for the privacy of the passageway alcove to go over what had happened. “My dad was apparently really pissed when he heard Mia was seeing Charlus in school,” Sirius continued, looking down at the photo. “He was long since finished Hogwarts, but he heard about it and he threatened to kill Charlus for seeing his betrothed and Charlus apparently broke up with Mia not long after because of it.”

Remus stared at their happy faces in the photo. “Wow.”

“So wait.” Peter looked confused. “Are you and James brothers, is that what’s happening?”

Remus said, “Cousins, Peter.”

“Nearly the same bloody person by the sounds! If it hadn’t been for Charlus -- she would’ve married my dad and then neither James nor I would have existed. Some weird hybrid kid would be here!” Sirius paused, a memory flitting through his mind from years and years ago… he smirked, “A Jiriamus or a Sirames, if you will.”

Remus smirked, remembering the comedic team that had been James and Sirius in third year.

Peter said, “Weren’t you cousins already?”

“Most pureblood families are,” Remus said, “But more distantly than this.”

“Besides, Pete, it’s just cool, alright? What a bleedin’ fantastic story that is, isn’t it? Like fairy tale-esque. My dad’s the bloody dragon and Mrs. P’s the princess and Charlus the knight in shining armor and --” Sirius was very excited about the whole thing - so much so that this summary made him shiver with glee. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. The ultimate fuck you to my father! I wonder what he thought when I ran away from home and he found out I was living with the bloody Potters - with Charlus Potter, the very one he’d lost Mia to.”

Remus said, “It makes them even more brave for helping you.”

Sirius remembered the hesitation in Charlus Potter’s voice, the worry he’d had that very first night, so many years ago, when he’d showed up in snow-soaked trainers on the Potter door step. He remembered Charlus worrying about the Blacks coming to call on the Potter house. The danger of that was even more real than he’d ever known then.

Peter was leaning over to look down at the photo. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Why couldn’t it have been Honey that had this sort of connection to James’s parents? Or Cecil Pettigrew that had rescued Dora from Orion? The last thing that James and Sirius needed was another reason to be closer, to exclude him, Peter. And this was only tightening up what was already such a very close friendship. Between how close James and Sirius were and Remus shagging Sirius, there was no hope of him, Peter, ever getting any closer than he already was. It made his belly knot up and his palms sweat to think that this was just one more way that he was the outsider looking in. Never one of them, just someone who tagged along with them. That’s all he’d ever been.

Suddenly, there was a great commotion in the passageway and James came running into the alcove, his eyes wide and he threw himself at Sirius and wrapped his arms about him tightly, squishing Sirius to him and thumping his hand against Sirius’s back. “THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER!!!” he was shouting, “We’re blood related, Sirius! Tracabley blood related! I’m so bloody excited!”

“Me too!!” Sirius shouted and he hugged James even tighter. “We’re practically brothers!!”

James said, “We already were. This has just made it official… more official than that time we became bloody brothers, that is,” he smirked, thinking of how he and Sirius had sat upon the end of his bed, pricking their fingers, and smushing the blood together. He smiled as he released Sirius and patted his shoulder, then - “Oi, mum said she’s given you grandfather’s watch. May I see it?”

“Oh yeah!” Sirius pulled it out of his pocket and laid it across his palm for James to see. Remus and Peter scrambled to look as well.

“Wow!” Peter murmured, staring down at it, “That’s a nice one, Sirius.”

“It’s a Black family heirloom. See, look.” Sirius turned it to the side, “That’s the family crest right there, and that’s the family motto, too. Soyez toujours pur de cœur. It means always pure of heart in French. Most of the Blacks shorten it to just the toujours pur - always pure - but… but I really like that this one has the whole phrase upon it. Like the watch my brother will probably get when he turns seventeen - oh it’s a beautiful watch, my father’s, I always wanted that watch when I was a kid and they always said I’d have it one day before I got blasted off the tree - well that watch only says tourjours pur on it.” He smiled at the watch in his palm, “But this one is so much better.”

“Always pure of heart,” Remus said, nodding. “It’s fitting for the Black Sheep.”

Sirius smiled, “Yeah. Like we’re the ones that got it right. You reckon the original Blacks, the ones that go way, way, way, way far back, the ones that thought that phrase up… you reckon they were alright? That maybe… maybe we aren’t the ones that would disappoint them, me and Mrs. P and Dromeda? Maybe we’re the ones that are honouring the family after all?”

Peter nodded, “Absolutely.”

Sirius smiled and hugged Peter’s shoulders.

James reached over and turned the watch over, smiling at it, “I’m glad she’s given you the watch, Sirius. I’m really happy for you.”

Remus said, “Bloody hell, look at you, old enough for the traditional watch!” He smiled and said, “Or… nearly anyway. Still got a week to go being a baby like the rest of us.”

Sirius smirked, “I’ll need a watch pocket… blimey, I need one of those fancy vests with the little pockets for watches sewn in!”

“Because that’s punk rock,” James mocked.

“It is if I make it punk rock!” Sirius announced and he started dreaming up badges to stick to the imaginary vest.




Charlus Potter had not come solely for the purpose of visiting Sirius with Dora and the story of Mia Black. Rather, he had ulterior motives as well. Ulterior motives that he’d been putting off for some time. He was pacing in McGonagall’s office after James had left, while they waited for a house elf to return to the office with Edgar Odair.

“You should sit,” Dora pleaded.

“I can’t.” He answered, turning at the corners of McGonagall’s hearth. “I’m sick with worry. I don’t know that this is the right thing to do and - I’m afraid.”

Dora frowned.

McGonagall sat with her fingers peaked before her, staring at the desktop.

The door opened slowly and Edgar Odair walked into the room. He looked about at Charlus, Dora, and McGonagall, and he pushed the door closed behind himself. His eyes were already damp, knowing from the moment he set sights upon Charlus Potter that this was concerning his brother. His voice cracked, “Is Jasper -- is he okay?”

Charlus didn’t know how to tell the boy that once a prisoner was sent off to Azkaban, unless they died, there was no way to know what was happening with them.

“As far as we are aware, Jasper is alright,” McGonagall answered, nodding.

Edgar looked relieved.

Charlus cleared his throat, “Edgar. We have a very… very serious matter to talk with you about, and it’s… it’s important that you listen carefully.”

McGonagall waved for Edgar to sit in one of the chairs.

Charlus paced some more nervously as Edgar stared up at him. Finally, having come to a choice about how to word what he had to say, Charlus turned and knelt before Edgar’s chair, staring up at him. “You remember me, don’t you Edgar?”

“Yes Mr. Potter,” he whispered.

“Do you remember telling us about what happened - about - about how your father died?” Charlus asked.

Edgar nodded slowly.

“Edgar, that night, you said that you hadn’t told because Jasper said you musn’t tell anyone about your father abusing you… but Edgar… Edgar, Jasper didn’t know about some of the things that might come up when he told you that. He didn’t know this stuff would happen and that he would be sent to Azkaban. He didn’t know that the Ministry for Magic would be involved and that telling them about it might save him from the sentence he’s been given.” Charlus stared into Edgar’s eyes. “I need you to come and tell the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement the whole truth. And if you do, if we tell him everything that’s happened, he might let Jasper free.”

The small boy stared into Charlus’s eyes and he shook a little.

“Can you be very brave and do that for me? For Jasper?” Charlus asked.

Edgar nodded.

Charlus let out a breath he’d been holding. His voice shook, “Excellent. Excellent! We’ll go now. Today. Right now.”

“Right now?” Edgar asked, and he looked very afraid and he whispered, “May I please just go and get my jumper first?”

“Of course,” Charlus answered, “Of course you may. Don’t want you being cold on the way!” he smiled.

Edgar nodded. He slid off the seat and hurried for the door. The three adults watched him go and he pulled the door shut and ran down the corridor at full speed, his little heart racing in his chest as he dashed up the stairs toward Gryffindor tower. As he ran, he looked about at the paintings, at the skylight windows far above, and the lovely wallpaper. He shouted the password to the Fat Lady and ran up to his dormitory, passing the second year, Wally, on the stairs - and into the first years’ dorm. Micah King was laying on his bed, his charms textbook open before him, attempting to make it fly, when Edgar came in.

“Hullo Ed,” he said, sitting up. He looked him over. “What’s the matter, you look rather ill??”

Edgar stood at the foot of his bed and opened up his trunk, staring down at his things. “I’m going away.”

“Going away?” Micah asked, concerned. “What do you mean, going away?”

Edgar pulled his jumper out of his trunk. “I mean I’m… I’m going some place just now and… and I’m not coming back. Probably not ever.” He felt dizzy as he spoke the words.

Micah asked, “Where are you going?” He paused, “Are you going alone? You ought not to go alone. Do you want me to come?”

“No.” His voice was sharp with firmness. “No you don’t want to go with me, Micah, you don’t.” Edgar was tugging his jumper over his shoulders. “Have you ever… ever heard about Azkaban, Micah?”

“The wizard prison?” Micah asked.

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it guarded by demons?”

“Dementors,” answered Edgar, nodding. “And they suck all the happiness out and drive the prisoners mad and they - they die, eventually.”

Micah frowned.

Edgar said, “That’s… that’s where I’m going, I’m afraid.”

“Why are you going to Azkaban prison? Are you going to save your brother? Like a rescue mission?”

Edgar shook his head, “Sort of. I’m going to prison so my brother can be free.”

Micah looked sad. “But then you’ll be in prison.”

Edgar was finishing buttoning his jumper up the front and he looked down at the rest of the things in his trunk and he wished them all a silent goodbye and closed the trunk. “You lot can divide up my things,” Edgar offered. “Seeing as I won’t be needing them anymore. I don’t have a lot in there but… but what I have is yours if you want it.” He hesitated. “I… I had a good time with you lot this month. Can you tell Patton and Coby and Chris I said so?”

“Yeah,” Micah said.

“Thanks.” Edgar replied and he turned toward the door, pausing in the frame. He looked back. “Bye, Micah.”

Micah looked sad, “Bye Edgar…”

And Edgar went out and back down the stairs. He walked slowly this time, taking everything in as he did, seeing it for the last time. He reckoned that going to wizard prison and facing those horrible dementors would be worth knowing Jasper was alright and free. He tucked his hands in his pockets, wondering what prison was like - if it was as dismal as prisons in telly programs looked to him, if he would really be fed nothing but bread and water for the rest of his life… He was shaking as he returned to McGonagall’s office, tears pouring down his cheeks as he bid farewell to everything he cared for.

He knocked on the office door again and McGonagall called him inside and Edgar closed the door behind him and stood for a moment, building the bits of bravery he would need… and then he stepped forward, “I’m ready,” he said, and his voice was solemn and unsteady with nerves.