The Importance of Being Sirius

Chapter Two

Narcissa:

Lucius had washed his hands of the whole business: in his opinion it was both unnatural and repellent that anyone in Slytherin should want for a moment to be in any other house; he said it was nothing but a rather twisted form of wish-fulfilment, and would cause a huge amount of trouble. He was right, of course, as he usually is, although we didn't realise that at the time. So whilst Snape was in his dormitory drinking the potion, I waited for him alone in the Slytherin common room.

He had refused to let me watch him transform, which I realised was out of vanity. Severus has always loathed appearing either weak or ridiculous, and he didn't want me to see him suffering the effects of the polyjuice potion, which are widely held to be extremely unpleasant. (I wouldn't know personally, I have never had a reason to take polyjuice, as I am always completely satisfied with being myself). So I waited impatiently in the deserted common room for the potion to take effect, wondering what Severus would do once he had transformed. I had my doubts about the plan, of course, but if it jolted Severus out of his disquieting and problematic discontent then it was worth the risk. Besides, that smug little band of Gryffindors deserved a little trouble.

I knew how effective the potion was, but when I saw Severus coming downstairs I couldn't suppress a gasp. Apart from his expression - a practised sneer, as opposed to Black's usual gormless look - you would never have guessed that it wasn't Black himself. He smiled a little when he saw me gaping, but I had a feeling he was feeling rather ill at ease himself with the transformation. He walked rather hesitantly, as if he was still suspicious of his new body.

"Scary, isn't it?" he said, when he'd reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Distinctly," I replied, realising how strange it was to see Black's face wearing Severus' expression. "How do you feel?"

Severus shrugged.

"Sick," he replied shortly. Whether this was due to nerves, the polyjuice or just the fact that he now looked like Sirius, I didn't know. His eyes - (Black's eyes?) - were glittering with suppressed excitement, and as I stared at him he instinctively tried to flick the hair out of his eyes, only to find that this was impossible with Black's short hair.

"Don't do that," I ordered.

"What?"

"Try to throw your hair around in that rather girly fashion. Your hair's too short now. It's also more or less clean, which you'll probably have some getting used to."

Severus looked rather annoyed, which surprised me somewhat (most jibes on the subject of his appearance merely amused him), and turned to leave. I felt a sudden wish to say something reassuring, or to tell him that he didn't have to go through with it if he didn't want to. Or even to say good luck, and warn him not to stay after his hour as Black had worn off. But, the force of habit being what it is, I couldn't. Instead I said:

"Don't screw this up, Snape, or you'll get us all into trouble."

He smiled reluctantly.

"Considering your lack of potion-making skills, I think we're already in trouble," he replied, sounding more like himself.

"You were the one who wanted to do this, and you helped me brew the potion," I reminded him, "so if you do end up stuck with Black's head on your body, or one half of your face yours and one half his then you've only got yourself to blame."

Snape gave a shudder, presumably at the mental image I had suggested, and left without another word.

Severus:

It was a distinctly peculiar sensation, being Black. When I straightened up, still shuddering faintly from the effects of the polyjuice, and examined my reflection in the mirror, I was almost paralysed with amazement. My robes, although now slightly short, still fitted me, but I felt odd, my hands were suddenly much too large, and my neck felt bare and vulnerable with my hair sheared off around my ears. After a few minutes of almost appalled scrutiny, I turned away from the mirror, reluctant to look at myself any more.

This was what I had wanted, naturally, to pretend to be Black. To cause as much possible for the exasperating little gang who were already beginning to make my life a misery (later they progressed from ruining my life to almost ending it entirely, but I don't suppose Dumbledore will let me tell you much about that - mustn't upset his precious Gryffindors, must we, even if they are guilty of attempted murder). Despite getting my wish, however, I couldn't suppress a feeling of misgiving.

I didn't have much faith in my potions skills at that time, and although Narcissa had helped me there was always a possibility that something might go wrong. Or perhaps I was just astonished to be getting what I wanted: even in those days it was rather a rare occurrence.

Sirius:

I hope nobody missed what just happened: Snape has just admitted to drinking polyjuice and turning into me. With a view to either taking over my life or destroying it, depending on whose story you believe. I mean, what kind of twisted person do you have to be to come up with a plan like that?

Snape:

Spare us the self-righteousness, Black; they haven't heard what you did yet. Apart from trying to kill me of course, but being a Gryffindor I suppose you're allowed to get away with murder literally as well as figuratively.

Narcissa:

Is this intensely dull bickering really necessary, or is it merely some kind of habit you've established? Because it's becoming almost as tedious as it was when you were at school together: everyone apart from you was bored to tears with your stupid feud. You may not have realised, but there is only a certain number of times you can start a food fight or wake everyone up with some imbecilic wizard's dual without getting on everyone else's nerves. (Incidentally, have you ever wonder why they're known as wizard's duals? Clearly because something that stupid was inevitably thought up by a man).

Dumbledore:

This is becoming rather childish, don't you think? You shouldn't interrupt, Severus, it isn't fair, and it breaks up the story. And Sirius, I don't think you should portray mutual loathing in such a pleasant light. Wouldn't it have been better for everyone concerned if you and Severus had just been good friends?

Sirius:

No.

Snape:

I'm forced to agree with Black.

Sirius:

Please don't agree with me again, Snape, it scares me. Shall we continue with the story before everyone looses their grip on the plot?

Anyway, you may be wondering why exactly my friends didn't notice that there was now two of me wandering the school instead of one. Well, the truth of the matter is that on the day when Snape finally achieved his rather sick ambition and became me, I had to serve a detention chopping wood with Hagrid (it would take me too long to explain what for. Let's just say that there was an incident the previous week involving me, Snape, a magical whisk and a great deal of cucumber soup, and the upshot was that I got a detention. Snape, who actually started the entire thing, got off with ten points from Slytherin. And he goes on about favouritism!)

I suppose Snape just strolled into the Gryffindor common room (I never did find out how he learnt the password) and pretended that he was me, back from finishing my detention an hour early. I'm rather hurt that no one noticed that I'd been replaced by a Slytherin git with the personality of a bad tempered cobra, but then no one's perfect.

It took me a while to realise that something had happened. I arrived back at the Gryffindor common room around nine o clock in the evening, moaning to anyone who would listen about how awful the detention had been, whilst my friends stared at me in complete bafflement.

"What?" I said, when on finishing my rant everyone remained silent and stared at me as if I had arrived wearing a pink leotard and dancing the tango with an octopus.

"You got back from your detention an hour ago, why are you going on about it now?" James said, looking up from his copy of Which Broomstick.

"You've already said all this before," Peter pointed out, "you said Hagrid was a complete idiot making you chop wood, and James said, it wasn't fair to go on at Hagrid and well you did get a detention didn't you, and what did you expect and Remus said you didn't have to start messing around with cucumber soup, did you, and then..." he noticed my expression and trailed off.

"This is becoming rather repetitive," Remus commented.

"What else did I say?" I asked, wondering if I was going loosing my mind.

"You went on and on about how you hated Snape and how he was a handsome devil, or something (you were joking, weren't you?), and then you asked James all these weird questions about quidditch strategy, and then you helped me with my potions homework," Remus replied, looking rather puzzled. "Then you said you were going to the library, and you ran out. You were acting a bit strangely, actually, were you feeling alright?"

I sank weakly into a chair.

"Oh God, I'm going mad..."

Narcissa:

I don't think anyone would be surprised if you did turn out to be mad, Black, considering the way you acted at school. That incident with the substitute charms teacher and the batch of devilled eggs, for instance. I don't think any of you Gryffindors grasp that there's no point in concocting a brilliant (or in your case, ludicrously stupid) plan unless it's going to do you some material good, or remove or attack someone who's getting in your way. And I'm sure that all those rather pathetic pranks went a long way to convincing people that you grew up to be a serial killer. Everyone was quick to believe it was you who was working with Voldemort, weren't they? Did you ever stop to wonder why?

And honestly, Severus, were you planning to get caught, or didn't you think they were intelligent enough to work it out? You didn't tell me you said all those (admittedly true) things about the Hagrid and so on, you just said that you'd subtly questioned them about the next quidditch match. I've no idea how you ever survived as a spy. I even don't know what you expected to find out, considering that none of them were on the team. Surely it would have been more sensible to behave with a vestige of normality? And what was the point in helping Lupin with his homework? It wasn't like you; it wasn't even a very Slytherin thing to do.

Severus:

I gave him the wrong answers, actually.

Narcissa:

Oh, excellent. I apologise for misjudging you. If you hadn't deserted the Dark Lord in favour of the "good" (i.e. weaker) side under the leadership of a senile and poorly coiffured old man, then I'd feel almost friendly towards you.

Severus:

You're always so kind, Narcissa. I hope Dumbledore caught that flattering description of himself. Besides, what was I supposed to say? Lupin actually asked me to help him, I couldn't exactly say no. I had to pretend to be Sirius, didn't I?

Sirius:

You didn't make a very good job of it.

Dumbledore:

I'm sorry to interrupt this fascinating conversation, but this isn't an appropriate time for dialogue. You're meant to be telling the story, not bickering. In fact, perhaps I can demonstrate how it should be done. (Incidentally Narcissa, thank you so much for that lovely description of me. I haven't been so flattered since Rita Skeeter called me an obsolete dingbat).

It became obvious to me that young Severus was something of a problem student fairly early in his career at Hogwarts. (Don't interrupt, Severus, you know it's true so there's no point in trying to deny it). With his history, it was perhaps inevitable... I had heard all the rumours of his past of course; people would shake their heads over it in the Three Broomsticks, and say that that was what happened when a bright witch picked the wrong muggle to marry. I had hoped that away from his mother's influence Severus might sever (excuse the pun) all links with the darker side of the wizarding world. But this was regrettably not to be. Not at that time, at any rate.

Whenever he was summoned up to my office (and this happened on more than one occasion, I can assure you; the marauders may have received all the "bad press" as I think the muggles phrase it, but young Severus had an almost equal talent for getting himself into trouble) he would be sullen, barely lifting his eyes from the floor, and his face wore a barely-suppressed expression of resentment. So I was slightly concerned when I realised that he was beginning to associate with the likes of Lucius and Narcissa.

Lucius and Narcissa...they were always spoken of like that. Even in their schooldays, their names were constantly linked together, the Hufflepuff first years used to refer to them in one breath as LuciusandNarcissa, as if instead of two people they were a single terrifying entity. I have had few students more intelligent, and unfortunately for Severus, few students more amoral. I could see he was dazzled by them, and I would be the first to acknowledge that they were charming, and attractive, and calculated to appeal to a boy of Severus' temperament. But it was unfortunate.

I also noticed that he both loathed and admired Sirius, Peter, Remus and James, which was also very natural. So I was not particularly surprised when trouble began. Small scuffles became full-scale fights, and more and more complaints began to reach me of their behaviour. It was something of a worry, for the Gryffindors were well-liked and apt to involve their friends in their battles, and the Slytherins were too fiercely loyal to allow Severus to fight alone. And just as I began to think that the inter-house rivalry was becoming serious, it suddenly stopped.

Severus' expression changed, and I could see some hope or expectation simmering beneath his sombre expression. I once passed him in the corridor carrying a weighty tome of which he was careful to conceal the title, and when I greeted him I saw something in his eyes that worried me. He became paler, and he began to look I had seen on other faces, in other decades, but never expected to see on the face of an eleven year old boy.

He began to wear the expression of an addict.

Severus:

May I speak, or are you planning to continue with this character assassination?

Dumbledore:

Please go ahead, Severus, but lets try to steer clear of needless conversation, we don't want to delay the plot.

Severus:

I think describing me as an addict is a little unfair, don't you? Besides, it gives away what happens next. So yes, as Albus has already ruined the suspense, I admit it: I did take the polyjuice again, whenever I could be sure that Narcissa and Lucius were out of the way. It took longer to brew, without Narcissa's help, but I managed it perfectly. Well, almost perfectly: I realised later that I had been adding a slightly too large quantity of Boomslang skin every time I brewed it. But that is not relevant at the moment.

Dumbledore seems to have forgotten to explain why I continued putting myself through this. Would you mind awfully if I was allowed to give my version of what happened the first time I drank the polyjuice, or do you want to spend more time running me down?

Sirius:

Just get on with it, Snape. You're being even more irritating than normal. And any "humorous" insults about James or Remus and you'll be extremely sorry.

Severus:

Very well. Please excuse my burst of justifiable outrage, Clearly I shouldn't have dared to even contemplate the thought that I might be permitted to feel some vestige of hurt on being described as ... oh very well, back to the story.

I was apprehensive, I admit, the first time I walked into the Gryffindor common room. The Gryffindors may be too soft for full-scale lynching (one of the reasons why they had had so little success in winning the house cup before the advent of Black's repellent godson), but I had no way of knowing what they would do to me if they discovered who I was. It was likely that they might work out what had happened afterwards, but this was a risk I was prepared to take. My main hope lay in the fact that they wouldn't have heard of the polyjuice potion, as in my time we were only taught dangerous potions of that sort in seventh year. With all this running through my mind, I took a deep breath and stepped through the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

Making an attempt at Black's usual arrogant swagger, I sauntered up to where Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew were sitting, and flung myself into an armchair.

"How was detention?" Potter asked, looking up at me from the pointless quidditch magazine he was reading.

"Awful," I said gloomily, suppressing a mad desire to laugh, "Hagrid had me sawing logs for an hour straight, the big oaf."

Potter looked rather surprised, and I realised I had made a mistake in assuming that they despised Hagrid as much as Lucius and Narcissa had taught me to. Lupin, lying sprawled on the rug in front of the fire, looked up and stared at me, and I felt myself automatically shrinking backwards into my chair. He might have been a soulless monster who preyed on the weak and innocent and had no right to live, but he wasn't entirely stupid...

Narcissa:

Just what I always used to say about you, Severus.

Severus:

Very clever, Narcissa. If I weren't so awestruck by your dazzling wit I'd be crying with laughter at this point. You're wasted as a trophy wife, you really are.

"You were on detention, Sirius," Potter said sanctimoniously (he was unbearably irritating even when he was treating me as his friend) "what did you expect? Cake?"

I decided that some kind of scornful snort was my best response to this.

"You didn't have to start messing around with cucumber soup," Lupin added, clearly deciding to join in the mass berating session. I decided it would be appropriate to defend myself.

"Well, Snape started it," I said (not without a secret satisfaction). "Damn him, the handsome devil," I added, unable to resist the comment, before wondering if I had gone over the top. My nerves, combined with the strangeness of the situation, were making me behave recklessly. Or perhaps looking like Black had started me thinking like him as well. However, nobody batted an eyelid. Maybe they were used to Black talking complete madness.

"So what are we going to do to get him back?" I asked after a small pause. It was worth a try, after all; if I found out what prank they were going to pull next, I could devise a brilliant counter-stunt and leave them looking like utter idiots.

"Who?" asked Pettigrew, the least intelligent of the bunch.

"Snape, you festering idiot," I snapped furiously, forgetting for a moment that I was meant to be posing as one of the always-perfect-and-nice-except-when-they-try-to-kill-you Gryffindors. Lupin glanced up at me with a look of astonishment, and I felt a sudden chill of fear. I had anticipated being found out, and it was a risk I was prepared, but for some obscure reason at that moment I suddenly, frantically didn't want to be found out.

"Personally I think we should spike his pumpkin juice with something," James said, (unsurprisingly) oblivious to the sudden tension. Like most so-called quidditch stars, he was absolutely hopeless at everything else -

Dumbledore:

(Don't say anything, Sirius; I'll deal with it. I don't want this to degenerate into a brawl.) Now then Severus, that comment isn't quite true, as I'm sure you'll be the first to admit once you think about it.

Severus:

Hmm. No, I don't think so.

Dumbledore:

Well, I think you could treat James with a bit more fairness don't you? There is nothing to be gained in insulting the dead. (Besides, I don't want you and Sirius to start another slanging match). Please carry on.

Severus:

I've lost track of where I was now.

Dumbledore:

We're all waiting, Severus.

Severus:

No. Sorry, I've lost my thread. It doesn't matter. You wouldn't have been interested anyway. You never did listen to me about anything. Quirril, for instance, I kept telling you he was a homicidal maniac, but would you listen? Of course not. Or Lockheart, I always said he was a vain and self-obsessed idiot, but nobody ever listened to me ...

Narcissa:

Well, as Snape is having a characteristic sulk, I'll carry on, shall I? We wouldn't want to lapse into dialogue or anything like that. Besides, I don't think I really want to hear the details of his little trip chez Gryffindor. Let's just establish that Severus had a brilliant time being subtly ironic, and move on.

I was feeling rather pleased with myself (as well I might) as I waited for Severus' return. The plan, after all, was simple yet brilliant. Severus would have got all the suppressed longing to be included out of his system, and no one would ever be the wiser. He could return to being secure in his Slytherinity (don't stare at me like that, surely nobody is stupid enough to wonder what the word means), and everything would be fine.

I feel inclined to burst into a fit of sardonic laughter when I remember just how simple I thought everything was going to be. Because when Severus arrived back in the Slytherin common room, flushed and out of breath, I had a most unpleasant surprise. Instead of looking disdainful yet satisfied, possibly with a touch of cheerful irony, Severus was looking as happy as I had ever seen him. Something in his eyes told me he was far from satisfied. And I realised that I had started something that would be extremely difficult to control.

"You want to go back, don't you?" I demanded, after one horrified glance at him.

He stared at me, looking surprised and also slightly guilty.

"Of course not," he said. The transparency of the lie grated on me - Slytherins are meant to be adept at deceit, after all. I made a mental note to give Severus a few acting lessons in lieu of his soon-to-be-terminated extra potions classes. I considered raising an eyebrow, but decided this would be a rather clichéd way of expressing scepticism. Instead I looked at Severus with an unconvinced expression.

"Really?" I said to enforce my point. Severus shrugged uncomfortably.

"Well, I suppose it might come in useful, I could find out something more..." he began, trying to conceal his eagerness. I felt a sudden surge of revulsion. This was becoming unnatural, and I wished fervently that I had never suggested polyjuice in the first place. But how was I to know he would react like that? I decided it was time to nip the imminent obsession in the bud before it caused more trouble.

"Well I'm afraid that's impossible," I said sternly. "You can't keep going back, they're bound to find out it's you, and then we'll all be in trouble. Besides, it's not right. You're a Slytherin, Snape, this is where you belong."

He looked at me beseechingly -

Severus:

I most certainly did not. I would never lower myself to the extent of begging. Severus Snape demeans himself for nobody. I simply glanced at you to make sure you were in earnest, decided it would be useless to make a fuss about it, and agreed, promising never to drink polyjuice and become Black again. Then I went upstairs to my dormitory to see if it was possible to make the potion by myself.

Sirius:

You see my point? Completely twisted. And by the way, Snape, referring to yourself in the third person is widely accepted as one of the first signs of insanity. Just so you know.

Unfortunately, it turned out that Snape could make the potion. Just not very well.

Severus:

As I have already admitted, I simply added too much Boomslang skin, a very easy mistake to make. Especially for a beginner. Anyway, I'm certain there was something wrong with the scales.

Sirius:

Oh of course, it could have happened to anyone. Keep telling yourself that Snape.

So Snape started becoming me more and more, until I became convinced that I was loosing my mind. I seemed to be blacking out incidents that everyone else remembered. At first I thought I was just being forgetful, or maybe it was a practical joke from the others, you know how adolescents love to convince each other they're going mad, but it went on for so long that I gradually realised that it was impossible. I decided there were only two other possibilities: either I was going insane or there was something magical going on.

I began doing some research. Not with the others, I didn't want to scare them, or make them think I was mad. I started trawling through the library whenever I could slip off, and looking up spells to produce memory loss. Ironically, this probably gave Snape more opportunities to pretend to be me, which in turn made the "black-outs" more and more frequent. I even asked Madam Pince for suggestions, inventing a friend who was suffering from worrying memory loss and apparently appearing at two places at once.

"If you're loosing your memory you'd better go to the hospital wing," she replied dourly, seeing through the deception instantly. "The only way you could be in two places at once is if someone was using polyjuice, and that's impossible."

"Why?" I asked eagerly. Too eagerly. Madam Pince gave me a deeply suspicious glare.

"Because the instructions for making polyjuice are found only in the book "Most potente potions", which is kept in the restricted section of the library," she replied coldly. "Now if you don't have anything better to ask then I suggest you leave."

I couldn't think of reply that didn't feature a sizable amount of swearing, so I said nothing and beat a hasty retreat, thinking rapidly. Despite my irritation at being chucked out of the library, I was in a fairly good mood as I hurried through the corridors of Hogwarts, certain that I was finally onto something. I was too relieved that I wasn't going insane to wonder much about who had been pretending to be me, and how, and why. (If I had I would have instantly guessed that it was Snape. I mean, he's the type, isn't he?)

Now that I knew that I wasn't going insane, the first thing to do was to go and tell the others. James would tell me half irritably, half good-naturedly that I had been an idiot keeping it to myself, Remus would think up some brilliant way of proving whether someone was using polyjuice, and Wormtail...well, he would probably explain at incredibly tedious length about the properties of the potion (he was always keen to show off the fact that he was good at potions, possibly in a deeply pathetic attempt to compensate for his complete lack of talent at everything else).

So when I reached the Gryffindor common room I gabbled the password as quickly as possible and rushed inside, eager to tell my friends what was going on. Inside I found Remus, Peter and James sitting by the fire, deep in conversation. I went over, feeling a sense of deep relief that I would no longer have to deal with whatever was going on by myself.

As I came over Remus stared up at me, and I glanced at his face first cheerfully and then in shock. He wasn't crying, it would have been better if he had been. His face was white, his eyes glittering with a sadness that I didn't understand. As I moved towards him he shrunk away from me, as if he couldn't bear for me to be near him.

"What is it, Moony?" I asked. Remus didn't answer. James stood up abruptly, and put himself between us. His eyes were full of rage, I noticed with shock that he was shaking with anger. I took a bewildered step back from him, wondering what on earth had happened.

"Come back for more, have you?" he demanded. I stared at him.

"What is it?" I said, with a growing sense of unease.

"I can't believe you have the nerve to come back here after what you did," James replied. I felt a surge of baffled panic.

"This is my common room, Prongs, I live here..." I began in bafflement, before realising that I wasn't helping the situation. I took a deep breath.

"What did I say?" I asked unsteadily. No one answered. "What did I say?" I yelled frantically to the silent common room. Then James moved towards me, and would have hit me if Remus hadn't suddenly stood up and caught his arm.

"It won't help," he said softly. I recognised the defeat in his voice with a pang of fear I hadn't felt when James had almost hit me. "Just go, Sirius," Remus added to me, his eyes on the ground.

"Remus..." I began unsteadily.

"Go!" Remus yelled, snapping.

I turned and fled.