A/N: And remi fails in the first week. Oh well, there's always next time. 5k chapters a week amongst other stuff was a tad overambitious…

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The House of Solitude

Chapter 5
The First Morning

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It was quiet and Severus slept restlessly. Maybe it was because it was his first time away from everything. Not the first time away from home. He'd slept over at Lily's often enough, in their guest room. But then Lily would be right down the hall and someone always had something on: music or the news or some debate – and he'd fall asleep before the rest of the house and wake after Lily's mother was clattering about in the kitchen listen to the morning talk show.

That was nothing like home, where one could hear a pin drop and its echo before the aftermath: a worried hiss from his mother, or sharp words from a hungover father whose senses seemed heightened once he hadn't drunk anything for a few hours and all the old drinks sloshed about in his stomach and his head. In fact, it was the latter that resembled the atmosphere of his first night, because of the curtains. They were heavy with whatever spell kept them closed, whatever spell kept their little world a private one.

He would have to do something about that, he realised, otherwise he was going to sleep very poorly at Hogwarts. He didn't have the money to purchase a wizarding wireless from Diagon Alley though – they were expensive and the muggle ones didn't work in a magical castle. But there might be some sort of charm. He resolved to look in the library – perhaps ask the librarian, or even his own Head of House. Some music, or even something like the sound of wind and rustling leaves… Actually, he thought he'd prefer that the best. The sound of the forest as he drifted off to sleep.

But he didn't have that yet and it was foolishness to get attached to a mere idea. It was also foolishness to try sleeping again; he'd tried and failed enough and his patience was stretched thin. The Ravenclaw common room had lots of books. Maybe they had helpful charms ones.

It sounded like a better and better idea the more he thought about it, and he grabbed his robes and toothbrush before pulling his curtains open and leaving the dormitory.

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There was another first year in the common room, but they were absorbed in a book and ignored him and Severus did likewise. He traced the bookshelves instead. It took him a moment to find the right one because he hadn't remembered the entire brief tour from last night. But he found the charms books eventually and started scanning the index of a rather large tome. They were alphabetically organised though, and without explanations. He'd have to learn latin before he could guess at their meanings, and though that wasn't a bad idea, it also wasn't something he could do in a morning.

He started flicking through the book instead until a fifth year prefect came downstairs to see him with it. 'That's a bit much for a beginner,' he commented. 'Looking for something in particular or hoping to gain information by osmosis?'

'Looking for something,' Severus mumbled. He might've taken offense by the osmosis comment but the other's tone was like and joking. Probably, he meant more along the lines of "were you missing home and couldn't sleep and so just picked up a random thick looking book?" He didn't say what he was looking for though. Older students are liable to teasing the younger ones and he doesn't plan to take one into his confidence on the first morning. 'Is it time for breakfast?'

'Hall opens at seven,' the boy replied. 'You're expected to be down before eight thirty if you want to eat before classes, but we will only check your bed if it's five to nine and your curtains are still closed. That applies to weekends too.'

It was mostly repetition from the previous day but it helped in remembering things. Severus made a mental note to write those times down after breakfast. Ravenclaw, due to its reputation as the studious house, probably wasn't as tolerant to lateness as Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Slytherin he expected was more wary of the front it presented to the school, and he would soon find out just what sort of front they displayed.

'I can take you down now, if you like,' the prefect offered. 'A number of us like to get breakfast in early because it's quiet in the Hall then.' Which meant Lily probably wouldn't be down then.

'I'll wait,' Severus replied. 'I…was reading something interesting.'

He wasn't. Or was, but it wasn't what he was looking for. A charm that conjured birds, Avis. Entertaining but not practical, nor did he see how he'd be able to sleep through birds chirping so loudly. Or if he could even pull off that spell. Conjuring had been in his mother's sixth year transfiguration books. But he wasn't looking for anything so…ornate anyhow.

Still, the book had many useful charms, not all in the standard texts, which may be useful at some stage or other. The next time he picked up these tomes, he'd bring some parchment to take notes with, Severus decided.

'Suit yourself,' the prefect said with a grin. 'Settling into the Ravenclaw seat nicely. I hope the rest of you baby claws are the same.'

Severus wondered how many people would grimace at "baby claws" as the a few more older students came down, and the knot left through the portrait.

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Regulus was up early that morning. Their manor was a good distance from Hogwarts but an owl could make it overnight, and he was waiting for his brother's. In fact, it could make it a little under, but some ancestor had despised being awoken by birds tapping on windows at ungodly hours and had set up a timed ward – along with a good many other wards that neither Sirius nor he understood the necessity for.

The owl was waiting at his window, to his surprise. He was expecting it down at the parlour, but that meant Sirius had wanted him to know first. Which, knowing his brother, could mean something disastrous.

Tell me you didn't actually beg for Gryffindor, he begged Merlin – which was pointless now because the Sorting had been done last night. He let the bird in, unravelled the parchment and felt himself grow pale. He had. Gotten into Gryffindor.

His letter was a mix of relief, pride and terror and Regulus found a bubbly laugh escape his lips as he re-read the words. Especially the end. "Make sure you get Sorted here too. It's bril. Way better than the stuffy Slytherin dorms Bella talks about."

The fact that Sirius expected him to wind up in Gryffindor was even crazier than the rest of the letter. If he did get into another House than Slytherin, it certainly wouldn't be that one. Wasn't he the one who hid behind his brother? The one who did the safe part of their pranks and troublemaking and let Sirius, who was glad to, take the blame. It was Sirius who didn't put a galleon on his survival in the House of Black – and he didn't need to, because he was the Heir and as much as he acted up, the social repercussions of permanently damaging him weren't worth speaking of.

But that didn't mean that if they did something that would publicly damage them anyhow, something wouldn't come of it. And the Heir of the Blacks getting sorted into Gryffindor was certainly damaging in the circles his parents clung to. Maybe it'd make them change their minds, make them tend towards other pureblood families, like the Potters. Sirius had been talking with one at the station. He read the letter again. Yep, Potter was mentioned there too. At least Sirius was saving some face, even if Potter – Potter senior that was, was a huge defender of Dumbledore. His parents were more likely to sympathise with Grindleward, especially if he hadn't come out the loser.

'Mark my words,' his mother would always say, 'there'll be another Grindleward soon enough, one that'll learn from the old one's mistakes and Dumbledore who grows more senile by the year will fall to him like he should.'

Which was perfectly logical. Victors grew complacent in their victory and Dumbledore wasn't getting any younger. In addition, he had too many responsibilities: Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. On top of that, he was half-blood and a muggle supporter, two slashes from the supremists their family and associates had long since become.

And both Regulus and Sirius, and the rest of their cousins, had grown up in that. Which was why their mother had been so reluctant to send them there anyway. But Hogwarts really had the best curriculum, and the best prestige. One who came out with good marks was almost guaranteed a position in the Ministry, or some other high standing institution. The abroad schools were smaller and had the additional disadvantage of not being on British soil. It was the lesser of the two evils in the end – just like it had been for the rest of the Black family, like Andy and Bella and Cissy…

But that was with Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Gryffindor had never been on the table. Had never been a possibility. Had never been a consideration.

Would his parents send him somewhere else? Would they withdraw Sirius? Do worse?

It was too much to hope they simply wouldn't find out. If it wasn't from this letter, it would be from one of their cousins, or their uncle on the Board of Governors, or someone in his mother's gossip circle or at the Ministry.

Lucky Sirius was at Hogwarts and wouldn't have to face the explosion of emotions right away.

He clutched the letter in his fist and lay back on his bed.

Hopefully there'd be something marginally hopeful to report back. Something like: "You're lucky, Mum's not killing you. She's only grounding you for all eternity and marrying you off to someone who can scrape your reputation off the ground."

But if that really did happen – and honestly, that was the best case scenario, short of their family being happily accepting – Sirius had seven years largely free from the family influence to enjoy.

Why couldn't Sirius had been the quiet, bookish sort as well?

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Sirius groaned as he felt peace and sleep abandon him. The sounds of bustling were quick to fill his ears, which meant at least someone else was up, making noise and ready to start their day – and drag everybody else up as well.

Which was unavoidable, seeing as it was a weekday and therefore they were starting classes. But before classes meant breakfast, and morning post.

Even if there was little way his parents could have gotten a Howler to him already, since he'd sent his letter off as late as possible, and given the owl strict instructions to give the parchment only to Regulus. That should delay them a little. Though it also meant his poor brother was going to be a conduit for a good amount of yelling from their mother.

I'll buy him something extra special for Christmas, Sirius promised himself. Doubly special since he wouldn't be there for company as well. Poor Reg wouldn't be able to knock on his door when he wanted something, or hide behind him with company – subtly of course, because a Black didn't hide their noses especially in respectable company… But Reg didn't like that sort of company any more than Sirius did. All stuck up and no fun. All sort of scary underneath. Sort of mad. Not all mothers screamed all the time like Walburga. They knew because she'd scream all the time about them, about those "fools". Honestly, Sirius would rather his mother be a bit more like those women he called fools. He would rather his mother talked less about how this person or that weren't worth the freedom and they had, weren't worth being alive. It frightened him sometimes, and Reg even more. 'Does that mean if we'd be born to a different Daddy, we'd be slaves or dead?' Reg would whimper.

And it probably did mean that, because Sirius honestly couldn't say Walburga Black would care an atom's worth about her children if they weren't pure in blood, never mind what circumstances might've led to things being otherwise. Nor would their father, though he was quieter in his displeasure. But it was the Blacks who blasted all those unsatisfactory for their name from the family tapestry – the burn marks were rough and so many times his father had shown him the marks, made him touch them, made him understand the threat, that his own name could be similarly replaced by a little burn, similarly forgotten.

They were all too depressing thoughts to be having on the first day of school. Sirius took a deep breath, held it as long as he dared, and then snapped his eyes open and sat up.

Pettigrew was the one scurrying about, on his toes as though he were tiptoeing but really being too loud in doing it. He saw Sirius part the curtains and he squeaked. 'I'm sorry. I was just – ' He showed the pyjamas he was holding, bunched in his arms. 'Changing.'

Sirius shrugged. What did he care about that? Pettigrew drew his curtains with a last, furtive, stare and Sirius leaned over to rummage in his trunk. His clothes looked uncomfortably new – the sort of new that would be stiff and scratch under the neck and in all those other annoying places for a few weeks until some good washing broke them in. And the Black family house-elves would take great pains to make sure they stayed that way for as long as possible – and his parents would take great pains to make sure they did not scratch or fidget and thus "embarrass their standings" in proper society.

But Hogwarts was a mixed pot. Maybe the house-elves here wouldn't be like that.

Or maybe he was simply expecting too much, too much freedom. That was always a possibility.

But his mother had been sniffing about poor behavioural regulations or something like that, amidst the rubbish subjects like Muggle Studies and Defence Against Dark Arts – "what foolish prattle," she'd rant. "They should be done with the farce and just teach the arts instead. What better way to be protected but to be knowledgeable? And what better way to be able to stand?"

Muggle Studies was a third year elective and he was putting his name down for it if he survived his first two years at Hogwarts. DADA however was a core from the first year – and he was looking forward to it.

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By the time Severus decided Lily would be up and ready for breakfast and thus left for the Great Hall himself, the tables were about a quarter full. Ravenclaw's was the most crowded and Gryffindor was in second place – though with the noise their chatter produced, they could have easily led observers to think otherwise.

Luckily, he spied Lily's red hair at the end of the table and she beamed and waved at him. Her hair was in a tight bun and her eyes were a little red, but she looked genuinely happy to see him. Maybe even a little relieved.

And why not? It was her first time being away from home. Not his though. He'd stayed at her house plenty of times and his own wasn't much to miss in any case. But she'd had a mostly happy home life. Except Petunia. But he didn't think he could have liked her even if she hadn't been so mean. She had a detestable manner. Even though Lily always said she loved her.

And so Lily still had cause to miss the life she'd left behind. So of course she would be relieved to find something familiar in all of it again. Even if she wasn't wholly ignorant of magic she was ignorant to the ways of a wholly wizarding place – and so was he. And to the both of them it was a dream-like place.

But unnecessarily flashy on the exterior. He didn't care so much about how the sky looked without a window as to the charm or group of charms that created it. And maybe that was its purpose, to be a forever present sign as to what one should aspire towards. To be like a muggle magic trick, flashy and the sort of thing everyone wants to able to do but thinks is impossible, and then there turns out to be a learnable method to it. He doubts it's a first year spell – surely it wouldn't be a constant and in History of Magic if it were, but maybe by seventh year they'd gain that prowess and knowledge. Not that he cared to have a changing ceiling above his head at all times – but it could perhaps be applied to other things.

And he wondered if a spell to attach sound to something inanimate was similarly complex, and that thought was a little disheartening. He'd have to ask someone else to apply it then and he wasn't particularly keen to do so. Especially not from a student. Especially not if they were anything like Petunia. At least an adult would brush him off and then forget. Children scorned.

Lily gave him a smile and a wave. He waved back and then glanced at the two tables. Were they allowed to eat at other tables? Were they welcome? But Lily was sitting between two people anyway. He returned her wave and went to his own table.

Breakfast was elaborate, but not as much as dinner had been. Much of it was unfamiliar though, so he grabbed what wasn't. Toast and eggs and juice – which turned out to be cranberry and cinnamon, and somewhat sweeter than he cared for, though the bitterness balanced it somewhat. Though not enough.

He was done quickly enough and Lily took only a little longer and they began to wonder away before a prefect called to them. 'You two first years?'

'Yep,' Lily replied brightly. Severus, if he'd been allowed the chance, wouldn't have been so kind in his reply.

'Then you need to stay in the Hall. Your Head of House will be coming around with the timetables soon.'

Severus groaned internally at that. The Great Hall was too spacious to be a good place for two people from different Houses to chat a little and now they had to wait for their timetables. 'Let's ask our Heads,' he suggested. 'That way we won't have to wait.' He didn't see why they should have a problem in doing so. It wasn't like the first year timetables were any different from one person to another in a House. And they should be glad some students took the initiative in getting up early – even if not all of them would keep it up. Two more Gryffindors had wandered into the hall, ties and robes askew – and glasses too. James Potter and Sirius Black.

Lily frowned as well. The two had done a good job in making a bad first impression on her. 'Let's go,' she said. Her eyes scanned the hall. 'Professor Flitwick first?'

Severus assumed she meant to avoid her housemates. 'Have they done anything?'

'Beyond the train?' She snorted. 'They didn't exactly endear themselves to me. But not in particular. All the boys of Gryffindor are a tad on the loud side though. Nothing like you.'

'I should hope not,' said Severus lightly. 'You'll miss me less.'

'I wouldn't.' She took his hand. 'I grew up with you, not them. And you taught me about the wizarding world, and were my first friend. They won't ever replace you.'

He felt a grin stretch across his face at those words.

She laughed. 'I didn't get on my knees and propose to you, you know.'

'That'll be my job,' Severus replied.

'Maybe,' Lily replied. 'Or maybe we'll find other people. Or maybe I'll be the one to propose…later.'

They drifted over to Flitwick.

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Later, they sat on the stairs that oversaw sloping hills and compared their timetables. 'We have History of Magic first,' said Lily. 'That sounds smart. And…ooh, we share the class with Ravenclaws.'

Severus looked down at his own timetable. She was right. He marked it with a biro from his pocket and scanned the rest. 'Potions after it with Hufflepuff.' Slytherin for Lily.

'Then lunch, then Transfiguration, and Herbology to wrap up the day.' Lily pouted a little. 'We're with Hufflepuff for both.'

'So we share classes with all four Houses within a single day. Bit tough to avoid a person in the same year level,' Severus remarked. Not that he had any cause to avoid particular people. On the plus side, it meant he had classes with Lily – but it was only History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts. He'd marked both those classes, then counted the rest. Astrology was done with each House on a different night. Lily had Wednesdays. Severus had Tuesdays. And then there was Potions, Charms and Flying with Hufflepuff, and Transfiguration and Herbology with the Slytherins.

'What's this class?' Lily asked.

Severus looked over her shoulder. There was a class on Friday afternoons not on his. 'Magical Education… maybe it's for students that didn't grow up with magic? To get them used to wizarding world customs and all that.'

'Hmm…' She hummed. 'Makes sense I suppose. Though there must be heaps of people with magical blood without magical backgrounds.'

Like him, Severus thought. But if it was a class specific for muggleborns, it would be embarrassing for someone with a wizarding background, especially if a parent had gone to Hogwarts. 'You can just tell me how it goes,' he said.

'I'll take notes for you,' Lily said brightly. 'Hmm… how much parchment do you think we'll need on the first day? I packed as much as would fit just in case – should be able to work out how much notes I'll be taking in each subject and then tailor the stuff I carry around to that.

Severus took a good look at Lily's bag, which he'd been unconsciously ignoring for the owner before that. 'You brought your textbooks as well?' It seemed rather thick. Then again, his bag was filled and quite heavy as well. Looking at Potter and Black on the other hand… it didn't look like they'd even remembered to bring a quill. First days were like that, people on all places of the spectrum, trying to work out where the happy medium was as the days progressed.

'Gorgeous sun, isn't it?' Lily looked up. 'It's almost like wizards don't have pollution to worry about.'

'They have Dementors,' Severus pointed out.

Lily shivered. 'I guess they're a consequence of pollution all on their own. But are they really made from people's bad thoughts and dreams?'

Severus shrugged. 'It's a fairy-tale.'

'But Dementors exist.' They'd had this discussion before, in different guises, different settings – mostly in the park, dreaming about a world made up entirely of magic. This world they were in now, years later. As prepared as they could be – but not prepared at all. Not a good night's sleep…though Severus couldn't speak for Lily. He could however assume. Her first time away from home, and on top of that he'd been a tower away…

'Let's talk about something else,' said Severus. 'We're at school now. Living up to your expectations?'

Lily laughed. 'The dormitories were rather tame, surprisingly,' she said. 'Though the prefect told is the stairs turn into a slide if a boy tries to get up them.'

Severus snorted at the image. That was a much better thing to talk about.

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The Gryffindor table was great. Mannerisms were tossed out the window and there was no-one to jab him hard with their elbows and promise a jinx or hex or worse for misdemeanour. Even better, no-one could, or would, use a leg locking curse to keep him uncomfortably in the chair. It made a few of their table grimace but once the feeling of glancing over his shoulder for the first spell wore off, it was too much fun to regret.

And there was no owl waiting for him. Even better. Tomorrow might be another story though, but there were plenty of distractions. Everyone talking. The food. And the timetables when they came around.

Though he grimaced when he realised he had classes with the Slytherins on the first day. Though anyone in his immediate family wasn't amongst the first years, there were family friends – or family acquaintances. People whose parents were oh so important in the social echalons.

'You look like you swallowed a sour lemon.' James clapped him on the back.

'Something like that,' Sirius agreed. 'We've got Potions with the Slytherins.'

'Yuck,' James grimaced as well, but for a different reason. 'The Potions Professor is the Head of Slytherin too. He'll probably favour them.'

'We have McGonagall after that.' Sirius cheered up a bit. 'Do you think she'll favour us?'

James shrugged. 'She didn't lay down too many Common Room rules, so we'll see.' Then he grinned. 'I heard the Ravenclaws have wake up calls. You think they have bed times as well?'

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Remus heard the alarm go off, and then noise. The charms on the curtains had come off. 'Everybody up!' the Head Boy called. 'Anyone who's not up in five minutes – '

'Give them ten,' said another prefect. 'It's their first day.'

'Ten minutes,' Amos amended, 'will get a personal presentation of the Aguamenti charm.'

Remus didn't know the charm, but he recalled what had been said the previous night and was changing out of his pyjamas and into robes in a flash. There was a bit of a line to use the bathroom though. Most of the other first years had stumbled out of bed. He counted the heads – they were missing only two of the boys. One already gone, the other still asleep.

He tagged on to the end of the line just before Remus got his turn, dripping with water.

The prefect and Head Boy smiled indulgently, and the first years took that as an example.

'Actually,' Amos grinned. 'We've got worse stuff for the higher years. Rumour has it that the seventh years used to be put under the Cruciatus for being late.'

Unfortunately, he'd picked a bad time to give that little titbit of information. Remus' wide eyes were staring at the other side of the bathroom door, and the two boys left were muggleborn and just made noises of confusion. But when everyone was collected in the Common Room, ready to be led down to the Great Hall for the last half hour of meals, Amos repeated the urban myth – and explained the curse.

The first years vowed to learn the alarm spell as soon as possible to avoid that fate.

Even though the other prefect said it was just something some prefect from long ago had made up against a stubborn batch of first years.

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Regulus was still clutching the letter from his brother when Kreacher popped in to say breakfast was ready. And he was still clutching it as he made his way downstairs. There was no point hiding it somewhere. Someone in his parents' social circle – or the Ministry – would tell them. And if they found out he'd known, it would be that much worse for the both of them. At least, at the moment, there was no reason for them to be disappointed in him. Just in his brother.

And he didn't even need to feel guilty about it, because his brother hadn't asked for him to keep it a secret. Maybe he knew it would be impossible and decided to remove a bit of the weight. Sirius did care. But sometimes he forgot about the consequences. Or the smaller things. He was probably out of his mind wondering what their parents – and their mother especially – would do. Regulus was as well. Worried for his brother, and himself. But it was too late to do anything about it now – except try and save a little face.

'Mother?' he said quietly, pausing at the end of the table.

She glanced at him. 'Have you gotten a letter from your brother?' She scowled. 'At school for one night and he's tossed his manners out the window, has he?'

She was disappointed already. And a shade angry. Her tone said it all – and she would only be worse once the news came out.

He wordlessly handed over the letter.

She scanned it, her black eyes darkening further as she read. Then she flicked her wand and watched it burn.

Regulus didn't bother protesting. Most of him didn't want to protest because if he didn't have the letter anymore, he didn't need to think about what else was written on it. Maybe it was easier that way. He wouldn't go back to that letter every morning and wonder if he really could fit into Gryffindor, if his brother would really fit into Gryffindor, if their parents would somehow see that as a good thing – if it even was a good thing.

'Gryffindor,' his mother spat. 'Of all the Houses. Even Hufflepuff would have been better. And suited that dunderhead of a son. Not an ounce of cleverness or family honour.'

His father said nothing. Didn't defend his son. Nor did Regulus defend his brother. Because Regulus knew that the family honour part, at least, was true. Even as he'd fought against this decision, he'd made it long ago. Every half-hearted argument had just nudged him a little closer and once the explosion it caused was over and done with, he'd be free to reap his rewards.

But what sort of rewards they'd be was the question. And how damaging the explosion before it.