The platform was loud before the train had even arrived.
It always was.
Steam curled thick and white into the morning air, blurring the edges of everything—the brick arches, the gleaming metal, the flicker of movement as students and parents moved in tangled currents. Voices overlapped. Luggage thudded. Someone was already crying.
And at the centre of it all, like they had decided chaos was a lifestyle choice rather than an accident, the Gryffindors had taken over a section of the platform.
James Potter was mid-sprint, hair already a mess, glasses slipping down his nose, yelling something incoherent as he dodged around a trolley.
“—you’re cheating, that does not count, that is not part of the rules—!”
“There are no rules,” Marlene McKinnon shouted back gleefully, darting past him with a laugh, her braid whipping behind her like a flag of war.
Peter Pettigrew wheezed somewhere near the luggage pile, clutching his side. “You— you said we were racing to the pillar—!”
“We were,” Fabian Prewett said, grinning, already leaning against it like he’d been there for hours. “You’re just slow.”
“I tripped—!”
“You always trip.”
Gideon Prewett was perched on a trunk, swinging his legs, watching the whole thing with the kind of amusement that suggested he was absolutely going to instigate something worse in about five seconds.
Remus Lupin stood slightly to the side of it all, book in hand, but not reading. His eyes tracked the movement, the laughter, the way the group folded in on itself like something living.
Mary Macdonald had already abandoned any attempt at composure, doubled over laughing at something Alice Fortescue had whispered to her.
Frank Longbottom was trying—and failing—to keep the luggage organised.
“Please,” he said, voice strained, as another trunk nearly toppled over, “if we lose someone’s things before we even get on the train, I am not dealing with it.”
“You say that like you’re in charge,” Lily Evans replied, arms crossed, but smiling despite herself.
“I am trying to be responsible.”
“Tragic,” James called, skidding to a stop nearby.
Frank pointed at him. “You are the reason I’m like this.”
“That’s not true,” James said immediately. “You’ve always been like that.”
“You set a fire in the common room last term.”
“It was controlled.”
“It was not controlled!”
Marlene snorted. “It was impressive, though.”
“It was,” Gideon agreed.
“It was not—”
And through all of it, one absence hung like a missing note in a song.
“Where is Sirius?” Mary asked, straightening, glancing around.
“He said he’d be here,” James said, frowning slightly now. “He never misses the train.”
“Maybe he overslept,” Peter offered weakly.
“Not likely,” Remus murmured.
Lily scanned the crowd, thoughtful. “He would have said something.”
There was a beat—small, brief—but it shifted something.
And then—
“SIRIUS!”
James’s voice cracked through the noise, sharp and bright, and every head turned at once.
At first, he was just another figure in the crowd.
Tall. Dark hair. Familiar.
And then—
He stepped properly into view.
And the world tilted.
Because Sirius Black was not alone.
He was holding someone’s hand.
A girl.
Smaller than him by a noticeable margin, her steps quick to keep up with his longer stride. She was already in uniform—black skirt, crisp white shirt, tie neatly done—but layered differently. Leggings beneath the skirt. A thick, oversized cardigan draped over her shoulders.
And her head—
Wrapped in soft fabric, neatly folded, framing her face.
James blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“—what—” Marlene breathed.
And then the entire group surged forward at once.
“SIRIUS—!”
He didn’t even notice them at first.
He was talking—leaning slightly down, voice lower, softer than they had ever heard it—focused entirely on the girl beside him.
“—and you’ll be fine, okay? Just stick with your house, don’t let anyone—”
“SIRIUS!”
He startled, head snapping up, eyes widening as the entire Gryffindor disaster came barreling toward him like a tidal wave.
“What— Merlin—!”
They crashed into him in a tangle of noise and limbs and overlapping voices.
“Where have you been—!”
“You’re late—!”
“Who is that—?!”
“Is that your—”
“—girlfriend—?!”
Sirius recoiled like he’d been physically struck.
“Ew—no—what is wrong with you—?!”
The girl beside him blinked.
And then—
She smiled.
Small. Sharp. Amused.
Sirius dragged a hand down his face like he was reconsidering all of his life choices.
“This,” he said, grabbing her hand again and hauling her slightly forward, “is my sister.”
Silence.
Utter.
Total.
Silence.
“You have a sister?” Peter said faintly.
“Yes,” Sirius snapped. “Obviously.”
“You never said—” Lily started.
“You never asked—!”
“That is not how that works!”
Regulus Black tilted her head slightly, watching them all with quiet interest.
“Hi,” she said.
Her voice was soft—but not shy.
There was something deliberate in it. Controlled.
James blinked again.
“Hi,” he echoed.
Marlene squinted. “Wait—how old are you?”
“Eleven.”
“First year?” Remus asked.
She nodded.
“And you’re—his—” Gideon gestured vaguely at Sirius, like he couldn’t quite believe it.
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know.”
Sirius huffed. “Can we move on—?”
“No,” Mary said immediately. “Absolutely not. We need to discuss this.”
“Why is she dressed like that?” Fabian cut in, pointing—without any subtlety whatsoever—at her outfit.
“And what’s on your head?” Marlene added.
Regulus didn’t flinch.
Sirius did.
He straightened slightly, something shifting in his posture—sharper now. Protective.
“That,” he said, voice flat, “is a hijab.”
Blank stares.
“What’s that?” Peter asked.
Sirius inhaled slowly, like he was preparing himself for a level of stupidity he had not emotionally budgeted for.
“It’s part of our religion.”
Another pause.
“Our—what?”
“Our religion,” Sirius repeated, enunciating like they were all particularly slow. “We’re Muslim.”
The reaction was immediate.
“What—?!”
“Since when—?!”
“You’re joking—!”
“I am not joking!”
“You never said—!”
“Again,” Sirius snapped, “you never asked!”
James ran a hand through his hair, staring. “You’re—Muslim?”
“Yes.”
“Like—properly?”
Sirius stared at him. “What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know—!”
Regulus snorted softly.
And then, in a tone that was far too innocent to be genuine, she said something in Turkish.
“Onlar gerçekten çok aptal.”
Sirius choked—and then burst out laughing.
“What—what did she say?” Mary demanded.
“Nothing,” Sirius said immediately, still grinning.
“That was not nothing—!”
Regulus just smiled.
“Why does she have to wear that?” Marlene pressed, gesturing at the hijab again, frowning slightly now.
Sirius’s amusement faded—just a little.
“It’s modesty,” he said. “It’s part of our faith.”
“Only girls have to do it?” Alice asked.
There was a flicker of something in Regulus’s eyes.
Sharp.
Sirius caught it.
“Everyone has rules,” he said, voice cooler now. “Men and women. Different ones.”
“That still sounds—” Marlene started.
“Don’t,” Regulus said, softly.
And somehow, that one word carried weight.
The air shifted.
“It’s not your place,” she added, tilting her head slightly. “You don’t understand it.”
Marlene hesitated.
“…I just think it sounds unfair.”
“It’s not,” Regulus said simply.
Sirius glanced at her, something approving in his expression.
“And for the record,” he added, looking back at the group with a sharp edge, “none of you are allowed to see her without it.”
The boys blinked.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why not?” James asked, baffled.
“Because you’re not mahram.”
Silence.
“…what,” Peter said again.
Sirius grinned.
Slow.
Dangerous.
“That means,” he said, stepping slightly closer, voice dropping just enough to carry weight, “you are all potential marriage options.”
The effect was immediate.
James went red.
Peter made a strangled noise.
Gideon choked.
Fabian looked like he’d just been hit with a physical object.
“I—what—no—!”
“Relax,” Sirius said, mockingly. “She’d never pick you.”
“I didn’t say I wanted—!”
“And if any of you try anything,” Sirius continued, smile sharp as glass, “I will kill you.”
“Okay—!” Frank said quickly. “Right—good—great—moving on—!”
Remus rubbed his face.
“This is a lot.”
“Also,” James said faintly, still recovering, “you can see her without it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not fair.”
Sirius smirked. “Life isn’t fair.”
“What does her hair look like?” Gideon demanded suddenly.
Sirius’s grin widened.
“You’ll never know.”
“That’s evil.”
“I know.”
Regulus leaned slightly toward him, murmuring something else in Turkish.
“Saçımı merak ediyorlar, sanki hakları varmış gibi.”
Sirius laughed again, bright and unrestrained.
“Stop doing that,” Mary said. “You’re talking about us.”
“Maybe,” Regulus said sweetly.
“And what about you?” Lily asked Sirius, folding her arms. “You said you have rules too.”
“Yes.”
“Like what?”
“Prayer. Five times a day.”
“You pray?” James said.
“Yes.”
“Properly?”
“Yes, properly—what do you think that means—?”
“Okay, okay—!”
“And fasting,” Sirius continued. “Ramadan. No food or drink during daylight.”
“That sounds awful,” Fabian said.
“It’s not.”
“It is,” Regulus said immediately.
Sirius shot her a look.
She grinned.
“And I don’t even have to do it all the time,” she added smugly.
“Why not?”
She looked Sirius dead in the eye.
“I get my period.”
There was a pause.
A very specific kind of pause.
James looked like he wanted to disappear.
Peter made a choking sound.
Gideon turned violently away.
“—okay—!”
“Right—!”
“Moving on—!”
Regulus beamed.
“So I get to eat,” she continued, delightfully. “And I will. In front of him.”
Sirius groaned. “You’re evil.”
“I know.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“…no I don’t.”
The group stared.
Because Sirius Black—loud, reckless, impossible Sirius Black—
Looked softer.
Different.
Like something had shifted into place that they hadn’t known was missing.
“And we go to Turkey,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “For holidays. Family.”
“You speak Turkish?” Remus asked.
“Yes.”
“Both of you?”
“Yes.”
“Say something,” James said immediately.
“No.”
“Come on—!”
Regulus leaned closer to Sirius again, whispering just loud enough for him to hear.
“Onları biraz daha kızdıralım mı?”
Sirius snorted.
“Absolutely.”
“What did she say—?” Lily demanded.
“Nothing,” Sirius said again, far too pleased with himself.
Steam hissed louder as the train finally began to pull in.
The platform shifted—movement surging, voices rising, the moment breaking apart into motion.
But something lingered.
Something new.
As Sirius adjusted his grip on Regulus’s hand—subtle, instinctive—and she stepped closer to his side without thinking.
The Gryffindors watched.
Still processing.
Still reassembling the shape of something they thought they understood.
Conversations hogwarts has overheard between the blacks.
R;regulus S;sirius
Outside the great hall entrance, 7;00 a.m., August 15th
S, running down hallway: Reggie! Reg! Regulus wait up!
R, turning around: What sirius?
S, coming to a stop: you are a really fast walker ya know that?
R, prepares to turn around:
S: Wait, No reg hold on. I need to ask you a question.
R: What is it siri, im hungry.
S: Why is your robes not pink?
R, eyebrows scrunch: What do you mean? Im a slytherin, my robes are meant to be green, and they are. Are you okay sirius did you hit your head on something?
S: No its just, there was a charm over all of slytherin that when they looked at the slytherin statue their robes would slowly start to fade to pink.
R: What do you- *pause* sirius did you prank my house?
S: Noooo?
R: *sighs* Sirius, why do you have to hate slytherins?
S: Because im a gryffindor and a marauder, its what we do.
R: A marau- ya know what never mind. Its probably because I dont usually look up when im walking.
S: What do you mean you dont look up? What do you just let yourself bump into walls?
R: *sighs* no sirius, I read while I walk, and I dont look up because I have enough spacial awareness not to bump into things. Like using my peripheral vision and stuff.
S: thats so stupid
R: it got me out of your prank.
S: ya I guess.
R: can we make a deal sirius?
S: sure?
R: I wont tell mother and father about your pranks, and ill even tell you the password to the dorm room, but you leave me and my dorm mates out of your pranks. Except for Selwin, you can prank him all you want. Oh and no pranking dorcas meadows, shes nice, I think we might become friends.
S: ya sure, who are your dormmates?
R: barty crouch jr. and evan rosier.
S: hmm, ya okay. I dont really like crouch but I guess making all of your roommates hate you would probably be bad. And I don't have a problem with rosier. What did selwin do within the first day to piss you off though?
R: *mumbles* he sad I wst a rby
S: What?
R: *sighs* He said i wasn't a real boy.
S, blinks:
R: Ya know because I wasn't born a boy, and I know I dont have the right parts, but I feel like a boy, and I even tried to remind him that I was in the boys dorm because the girls dorm wouldnt let me passed the barrier, but it didn't work and I just-
S: That. Little. BITCH!
R, head snaps up and eyes jump to sirius: *stunned silence*
S: how dare he insult my little brother. Don't you worry reggie, I'll make sure he gets pranked so hard that he never things of insulting you again.
R: no sirius, I dont need you to defend my honor i-
S: Who cares, im your big brother, im meant to protect you.
R: Just listen for a bit siri, I already have a plan to make him regret it.
S: oh, whats the plan.
R: I cant tell you here, meet me by the gardens after 4th period and ill tell you.
“Mr Black, could I see you for a moment?” McGonagall asks. Sirius glances at James before standing up. “Uh, yeah. Do I need to bring my books?” She shakes her head. “No, come along, quickly now.”
Sirius follows her dutifully from the Charms classroom. “Er, am I in trouble?” he asks after a few minutes of walking. “No, I just need to speak with you and your brother,” She leads him down to the dungeons, stopping in front of the potions classroom. “Wait here.”
Sirius shifts uncomfortably, pulling at the threads on his robes. A minute later, McGonagall steps out of the room, Regulus trailing behind. He gives Sirius a questioning look, and Sirius shrugs.
“Follow me to the hospital wing, please.”
When they reach the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey leads them all into her office.
“All right, do either of you now why you’re here?” Pomfrey asks gently, gesturing for them to sit. They both shake their heads, taking a seat.
Madam Pomfrey hums, sitting across from them. “Well, as you know, Regulus broke his arm last week during a flying lesson. While I was healing him, a noticed a bit of scarring on him,” She pauses, watching the way Sirius scoots his chair a little farther in front of Regulus’s. “I also noticed that when I was healing Sirius’s leg before Christmas, you also had quite an accumulation of scars up the back of your legs. Now, at first, I thought perhaps you’d been harming yourself, but when I looked closer, I realised that they’re magical. Sectumsempra scars is what they look like, in fact-” Sirius stands, pushing his chair back and interrupting her.
“What are you suggesting?” he asks angrily. “I’m not suggesting anything dear. We simply need to know if someone has been using this spell on the two of you, and who,” Madam Pomfrey explains gently. “We’re concerned for your well being.”
Sirius scoffs, pulling Regulus up. “We’re not being hurt, right Reg?” He glances at his brother, who’d began shaking slightly. “No, no of course not.” “Exactly, we’re fine, we were just clumsy children. Maybe you should get your eyes checked. Now, if you’re done accusing my brother and I, we’ve got classes to be in.” Sirius snaps, putting an arm around Regulus’s shoulders and pulling him out of the office.
Minerva and Poppy glance at one another, sighing softly. “Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa responded the same way.” Poppy murmurs, rubbing her eyes tiredly.
“There’s nothing we can do until one of them admits it, or we have substantial proof...” Minerva says quietly.
