Chapter Text
September 2, 1977
It was a day like any other for the students who occupied the great hall of Hogwarts. The boys laughed and ate telling each other gossip and news and, in that sea of faces and stories, there was a group of 4 seventh year Gryffindor boys who were doing exactly what they did every minute of every other day, they were laughing.
But hidden in the shadows behind the staff table in the great hall two eyes of a mixture of shades of brown watched the scene carefully, carefully analyzing and keeping in mind everything she remembered of the young boys of that rowdy and joyous group which, however, hid stories that were anything but happy.
The first of its components was a young boy with wavy hair the color of a starless night that reached his shoulders and deep gray eyes, with marked features, his height of 6 feet, high cheekbones and a practically perfect nose, he was laughing so much he couldn't seem to breathe; yet everyone in that room knew the truth about what lay behind the cheerful demeanor of the casanova that was Sirius Black.
Until a few months earlier, heir to one of the richest and most powerful pure-blood families in the European magical community, Sirius Black had always been a problematic child, at least for his birth family, not willing to bow his head to ideals he didn't believe in and people he didn't respect and who had made one mistake too many last summer and had been thrown out of his family and disinherited and ended up living in the Potters' house. What people didn't know though, and what the few who knew refused to tell, was that Sirius had been kicked out of his house because he refused to join a group led by a madman who believed that in life, blood was All. Barely surviving his mother's torture while his father watched and his brother pretended not to see, he took the opportunity with both hands to move in with his best friend and his family, a family he also considered his for 6 years. Taken in without explanation by Charles and Dorea Potter since he lived with them and after recovering from what happened to him Sirius started to go back to what he always should have been, a child who needn't have to worry about anything else in life if not to laugh.
Next to Sirius on the bench at the Gryffindor table and another member of that famous group was another boy with short sandy hair and green eyes reminiscent of a forest in full spring, with a handsome face and high cheekbones covered with freckled Remus Lupine commanded attention with his six foot and two making him the tallest of his friends.
Despite his undeniable good looks though it was something else about Remus that always drew gazes from strangers, and it was his scars and the mystery surrounding them. With scars scattered across his face and other parts of his body, such as those that could be seen on his arms when he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, Remus carried a trail of mystery from the fact that he never really answered to people when someone asked him how he got them. With intelligent and sarcastic answers, an air of a cheeky gentleman and that pinch of danger Remus Lupine had managed to hide his lycanthropy from the entire population of Hogwarts for 6 years. Forced to suffer unimaginable pain every full moon and to carry around the fear of hurting a human being, Remus transformed into a werewolf who was no longer in control of his actions. The only positive note of these nights was the constant presence of his best friends who, having become illegal animagi during their 5th year, always accompanied him making sure that he did not hurt others or himself.
Transformed at the age of 4 to pay the price for a mistake his father made Remus had grown up thinking he was a monster, one who could kill the people he loved or even a poor innocent soul who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Raised by a father who had been drowning his guilt for years for what happened to his son in a bottle of alcohol and by a Muggle mother who, finding herself isolated and alone in a world that didn't belong to her and with a sick son and a drunken husband, she had taken her own life at the young age of 38 when her child was just 14. Life had never been kind to Remus but it had granted him a small grace in the form of friends he considered brothers.
Sitting on the bench in front of the two were the last boys of the group, one was a boy with eyes the same color as ice and dirty blond hair, with a chubby face and a skinny body. Peter Pettigrew was the shortest member of the group of friends and also the most insecure. Peter's mother ran a small shop in a wizarding town in Ireland and he had never known his father since he had left his mother when she was five months pregnant.
Growing up alone with his mother who had always treated him as if he were made of glass, the poor boy had never had what can be defined as an adventurous soul and had grown up frightened by the smallest of things and without too many friends until, on the train to Hogwarts, he had met those who would later become his three best friends, his idols. Sorted into Gryffindor after endless pleas made to the Sorting Hat to stick with the boys he'd met on the train Peter had spent his school years admiring Sirius' confidence with girls and Remus' seemingly almost effortless wit but most of all Peter admired, almost envied, the likeable personality and perfect life of James Potter.
And James Potter was exactly the last member of the group.
With round glasses resting on a straight and somewhat long nose, curly brown hair with darker highlights, eyes a hypnotic mix of different shades of brown and his six-foot-tall and athletic body James was the picture of the typical good guy. Portrayed though that fell apart once one got to know him a little better. Though James was quite a sight to behold and his grades, along with Sirius and Remus, were among the highest of his year what made James someone everyone seemed to depend on was his personality. Witty like few others and self-confident he managed to attract everyone's eyes with the mere act of entering a room, without the need to speak or laugh. Every time James Potter crossed a threshold with a sure step, his head held high and his unfailing smile it was as if everyone were automatically aware of it by turning to observe him.
Known by all as the "golden boy" he was captain of the quidditch team, heir to an ancient and very rich pure-blood family who loved him as if he was not capable of make any mistake and had grown up having it all. Yet, despite his appearances, James Potter had been carrying on his shoulders for some years the burden of having to be exactly as people thought he was. A boy who grew up like this, with all his fortunes, his good looks and his intelligence, could not help but always smile, be nice and alert but with a good soul. James Potter never got angry, he always held Sirius' temper and Peter's insecurities in check, made sure Remus didn't study too much or isolate himself. Everyone expected him to be brilliant without being self-absorbed, funny but not mean and James was so tired of being what everyone expected him to be. Only Sirius and Remus saw him for who he really was, a boy who was anything but perfect.
Growing up without ever having received too many no's from his parents, it was difficult for him to accept rejection, that things didn't go the way he wanted. He spent half the day angry at some idiot who thought was better than everyone else or some stupid little girl who thought she only had to bat her eyelashes to get the Potters' ring on her finger. However loved he was, he had been raised all the same in a family that belonged to the sacred 28 and therefore could never really express his thoughts, not being able to antagonize people who might one day become his allies in the political struggle in the ministry.
Being able to content himself only with passing off some of his thoughts as a joke of little value for years the desire to be himself had been growing within him, the desire to be able to get angry and scream, to behave without thinking of the consequences, of judgments, of passing hell to all those who dared to put a spanner in the works of his best friends. In order to survive, James needed an excuse by now, just a tiny little excuse, to be able to stop being the golden boy at least a little.
But James was far more calculating than anyone gave him credit for an so as mean or sneaky as he could be, he needed someone who didn't have an important last name or money and power, and who was actually an asshole like Snape, who he could use to simply be mean, almost cruel. After all it was widely known in the castle that James could be particularly vicious to people he felt deserved it, as demonstrated time and time again with all the things he had done to Severus. Yet everyone always found an excuse for his behavior, a joke or a smile was enough to go back to being the perfect and good James Potter.
The only true thing about his character that he showed to the world, beyond the loyalty to his companions, was the love he had felt for years now for the one and only Lily Evans. Girl of a beauty as simple as disarming Lily with her red hair and green eyes was a force of nature trapped in a human body. She was intelligent and full of ideals and she was always ready to defend who she thought needed it, always keeping her head up in front of people who thought her inferior to them for the simple fact that she was a Muggle-born.
Lily that James would do anything to make happy and see smile. Lily who was the reason that, on just the second day into the year, James had found another person to use to deal with stress in the only way he knew how, by being everything the world didn't think he was.
It was a day like any other before Dumbledore got up to get his students' attention by clearing his throat "ladies and gentlemen if you could please lend me a minute of your time I would like to inform everyone that, starting today, Hogwarts will be delighted to host a seventh year student. I kindly ask you to give a warm welcome to the new addition to Gryffindor house" said Dumbledore in a clear voice before pausing to nod to a person hidden behind the teachers' table and then continue by saying "I am pleased to introduce to you Miss Hermione Jane Granger ”.
And so , immediately after the headmaster's words, a girl who could not be taller than five foot, with curly brown hair with red highlights and two splendid eyes of a mix shades of brown, a color so particular as equal to that of another student of that school, which raised in everyone a different set of questions.
With firm steps and an emotionless face Hermione stopped briefly beside the headmaster before walking, without looking at anyone, to a vacant seat at the end of the red and gold table to sit down and start eating regardless of the stares of the rest of the student body and whispered words. All eyes were looking at her yet no one seemed to notice the immense sadness that that soul lost in time and in life carried with her.
Hermione Jane Granger was for many just yet another quirk of the headmaster but for a group of 2 boys she was a mystery, for a girl an object to fix, for one boy she will be love and, finally, for a boy with glasses and her own identical eyes, a feeling that he couldn't explain.
Everyone knew that James Charles Potter was many things but no one could have ever imagined that day that he would become Hermione Jane Granger's worst nightmare and she his worst regret.