"C'mon, Moony, you're not mad at us, are ya?"
"Yeah, it's not like we just landed you in detention or anything." Sirius clapped James on the back, a victorious grin on his young, carefree face.
Moony shook his head exasperatedly at his two best friends, but he couldn't repress a small smile. "There goes my perfect record. And people said hanging out with the Marauders would always lead to trouble – too bad I couldn't prove them wrong."
"I'm just proud to say I'm the one who broke that spotless record," said James, puffing out his chest and wiping his glasses on his shirt nonchalantly. "Mischief managed."
"Don't forget us little people when you're famous, Prongs," said Sirius sarcastically, "and let me know when you're willing to acknowledge your partner in crime."
"Regardless of who's responsible," cut in Remus airily, "I still wonder how they convinced me to turn Professor Gretchen's chair into a pile of dungbombs."
Peter laughed wheezily from the corner.
"Whoever did is a freaking genius!" roared Sirius, high-fiving James, who hooted wildly, and the two of them began to do a sort of spastic tribal dance around Moony.
"WE GOT MOONY IN TRRROOOUUUBBBLLLEEEE, WE GOT MOOEY IN TRRROOOOOUUUUBBBLLLLEEE….!"
If only that moment could compare to this one.
Getting into trouble for turning a chair into a mound of dungbombs was much more desirable than this kind of trouble – the kind of trouble where your life was fleeting before your eyes almost as fast as the spells. Flashes of red and green mixed with the blurred, black clouds that were the Death Eaters. They surrounded him, blinded him –
And yet, all he could think of was that moment 24 years ago.
A moment when the Marauders were all together – no cares, no worries, no betrayal. When the only time they were separated was because of different detention times and not because of…
Death.
First James – October 31, 1981. 21 years old. Murdered by the Dark Lord.
Then Sirius, defending the son of James.
Next Peter, strangled by his own hand whilst keeping James' son prisoner.
And now, Remus knew he would finally be joining them. There was no mistaking the lack of his energy, the number of spells and enemies surrounding him. His hand arm was weakening– the full moon was so dreadfully close, it took all of his stamina –
Next to him, his wife fought. He could sense her stamina draining as well. They both knew.
They both knew that they would die within moments defending The Boy Who Lived.
The arm of Antonin Dolohov rose, as if in slow motion, his mouth speaking the unforgiving words that would take Remus from his wife, son, the Order…
And right back into the welcoming arms of the Marauders.
Moony shook his head exasperatedly at his two best friends, but he couldn't repress a small smile. "There goes my perfect record. And people said hanging out with the Marauders would always lead to trouble – too bad I couldn't prove them wrong."