A dagger from the court of the Timurid Sultan Husayn Bayqara. The blade was made in Herat (in present-day Afghanistan) in 1496-97 CE and the chalcedony hilt is a 19th-century addition. Now part of the Wallace Collection in London
Minerva McGonagall would never explicitly say she had favorite students, but if anyone ever asked such a question, her eyes would twinkle a bit at the thought of four particular boys. In fact, by the end of September of 1971 after having the boy with wild hair and wired glasses, the boy with love in his eyes and scars all over, the boy with so much eager to be included, and the boy with a family legacy resting on his shoulders all sorted into her house—each boy having spent more nights in detention together than in the common room—Minerva McGonagall knew one thing; no matter how much hell those four boys would raise, they would always be her boys.
So six years later when one of her boys kept his head down the entirety of her lesson, not even lifting it once to pass a note to the boy at his side—his boyfriend for Merlin’s sake—Minerva knew something was up. She knew all of her boys quite well, but she especially knew the one with the long black hair after having spent the most amount of time with him.
“Sirius, no passing notes—”
“What? I wasn’t doing anyth—” He began, his head shooting up at once.
“I shall see you tonight at 5 o’clock for detention.” She continued. She narrowed her eyes at the boy when she could have sworn she heard him mumble a curse word under his breath until he quickly apologized.
The rest of the day tended to drag on as Tuesday’s normally did. They tended to be the longest day for Minerva as she had the most amount of classes that day, so by the time 5 o’clock rolled around, Minerva had forgotten all about the detention she had given. So she peered over her glasses as the boy with the long black hair walked in with slumped shoulders all the same as though she had been expecting him.
He threw himself into his usual chair without saying a word, a seemingly uncharacteristic choice. She raised a brow as she cleared her throat, hoping his head would perk up, but it didn’t.
“You’ve been awfully quiet this week.”
“It’s only Tuesday.” He snapped, his grey eyes still fixed on his hands in his lap. “Why do you care? This is detention. Aren’t I supposed to write lines or something?”
“Sirius—”
“I didn’t even do anything and you gave me a bloody detention, but go on! What’s the punishment?” He continued, this time throwing his back against the chair, his head finally looking up. He tried to tilt his chair back, but the witch knew him all too well to not charm her chairs to the ground. “Oh for fuck’s sake, can I just tilt my chair for once?!”
She barely moved her wand at the exact moment he forcefully attempted to move the chair and Sirius tumbled backwards, a string of curse words quickly following. She waited as he muttered even more curse words as he scrambled to get up. It wasn’t until he had stopped grumbling when she finally began.
“This wasn’t an actual detention. It’s more of an impromptu Tea with Minnie.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” He huffed with narrowed eyes as he crossed his arms.
“You should know by now that I have a reputation to maintain.” She said with the slightest smirk. He rolled his eyes and kept his arms crossed. She pursed her lips before she began to fumble around in her desk drawer. She passed over a a blank sketchbook, to which he simply raised a brow. “You don’t have to say anything. You can spend the entire time drawing if you want. I have papers to grade.”
The boy’s demeanor seemed to calm as he carefully grabbed the sketchbook along with the assortment of writing utensils she managed to find in her desk drawer that she had previously confiscated from other students. It wasn’t long before he began to draw, and though Minerva had stacks of assignments to grade, she found it nearly impossible to bring herself to do such a thing when Sirius had started to draw.
Everything about Sirius drawing was quite captivating. He could write with both hands—she remembered him telling her one day many years ago that he was forced to write with his right hand but learned how to write with his left hand out of spite—but he only ever drew with his left. She watched as he repositioned himself in the chair and brought one of his legs up as he rested the book on the arm of the chair. The muggle pencil glided across the pages and though she knew each stroke was meticulous, Minerva had no idea as to what Sirius was drawing.
“He’s taken the mark.” He softly spoke, bringing Minerva back to reality. Before she could even raise a brow, the boy continued. “I haven’t spoken to him, but I just know it. If I’m wrong, which I doubt I am, then he’ll take it soon.”
Minerva sighed and leaned against the back of her chair, her fingers tapping against her chin. Some days they would discuss mundane and simple things, others were more serious and intense. She never found herself wishing for one over the other, but at that moment, Minerva temporarily wished today’s topic would be something trivial about Remus not sharing his chocolate or hogging all the blankets at night, rather than Sirius’ younger brother taking the Dark Mark, thus standing for everything Sirius had spent six years fighting against.
They’re only children. They shouldn’t be forced to choose sides on a war. Minerva had found herself thinking this ever since her four boys determinedly told her at the end of their fifth year that they would be joining the Order once they finished Hogwarts. These children shouldn’t have to fight in something bigger than themselves, especially not her children—her boys.
“Even if he hasn’t taken it yet, I can’t change his mind.” Sirius softly continued, his eyes not leaving the sketchbook before him. “I doubt he’d listen if I tried. He’s quite stubborn—”
“Sounds like someone I know.”
This time, his grey eyes flicked up, a glint of humor in them.
“I know, James can get like that sometimes.” He slightly smirked then turned back to his drawing. “Speaking of James, the git won’t shut up about Evans!”
“Is this supposed to be news?”
“No, but Evans won’t shut up about him either—”
“Really? She finally confronted her feelings after six years?”
“That’s what I said!” Sirius shot up, throwing his hands in the air. He brought a hand through his hair and sighed then tied it up with his wand before going back to his drawing. “Neither will shut up about the other. S’pose this is payback for when Moony and I went to Evans back in fifth year when we liked each other but didn’t know how the other felt, but I’m not too fond of being the middleman, especially with those two.”
“I always thought Remus would be the middleman between James and Lily—”
“Minnie! How dare you!” Sirius shot up, and brought a hand to his chest to be offended, but the smirk playing at his lips said otherwise. “I’ll have you know that James Potter is my brother—”
“I know that—”
“And Lily Evans is my best friend—Don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true!” Sirius rolled his eyes at the witch, who merely shook her head and leaned back in her chair. He smiled and turned back to the sketchbook. “Everyone knows that Remus is James’s best friend and I am Lily’s best friend. It’s common Gryffindor knowledge! I reckon it’ll be on Lily’s chocolate frog card some day.”
Minerva smiled and listened as Sirius continued to ramble, occasionally glancing up when she’d have a particularly good one liner. She listened and nodded at the appropriate times as he ranted about his friends and voiced his concerns for his brother. She listened as he listed off all the things he and his friends would have on their chocolate frogs some day—she had to agree that they would all eventually be found on chocolate frog cards someday for they would definitely change the world. She listened just as much as she watched him draw—the absentminded drawing seemed to preoccupy him enough to feel comfortable rambling and it made her pay attention—and her began to swell as she finally realized what her boy had drawn.
But as he gently tore the page from the sketchbook and passed over a beautiful and incredibly accurate portrait of herself, Minerva didn’t find her boy sitting before her when she set the page on her desk. Sitting across from her wasn’t a boy with long black hair and hopeful grey eyes looking up at her, but rather a young man. She wasn’t able to pinpoint what it was, whether it was his posture or just the way he now carried himself, but Sirius Black was no longer the loud mouthed, free spirited 11 year old child that had determinedly marched to the Gryffindor table on the first of September all those years ago. Sirius Black was still determined and opinionated, though a bit more cautious, but was now a young man who was just as ready to fight for what he believed in at 18 as he had been at 11 and Minerva McGonagall could not be more proud of her son.
Funny thing is that I doodled this comic out on valentine’s day and just never did anything about it. But then recently I got a bunch of followers who liked my cheerleader+nerd girl ideas so I thought I’ll finish this comic out for you guys!
Also they have names now!
Valerie (cheerleader) and Emma (nerd). I want to think of an official series title for them but nothing is coming up at the moment but I will eventually!
Sam Wilson is gonna be the funniest Captain America like. Steve Rogers used to just let the villains Monologue and talk shit for 4 whole fucking minutes before doing anything which means all the Bad guys meeting Sam are boutta be SO shocked…… They open their mouths with this whole Badass Villainous Speech prepared but as soon as they say the first vowel Sam is immediately just like ‘God shut the fuck up already’ and shoots them in the teeth
Villains: you can’t…you can’t just SHOOT ME that’s not how this works!!! Let me talk!! Rogers always let me have at least a minute of monologuing before he engaged-
Sam, already shooting him again: bitch do I look like Steve Rogers to you
