Disclamer: All your base are belong to Rowling.
~~(_^7 ~~(_^7
A rat was scurrying around in the corner. The smell of old damp hay was everywhere, causing his whiskers to twitch with displeasure time and time again. There was no food to be found and his last meal, a few crumps of bread and a tiny bite of meat, was not enough for today. He had to eat more, but it was too dangerous. He was too scared for his life. His worthless life.
~~(_^7 ~~(_^7
My life was the thing I treasured more than many other things. Perhaps that was just the way my brain ticked; perhaps it was just a reflex. Living was all I was good at and live I did. Perhaps my mother was to blame, with all her muggle diseases and troubles. My father was not a cheerful man, hardly ever talking and never smiling. He loved my mother, at least once, and he did kind of love me too. When my mother died, there were no more smiles in the house. We even left her world. Meaning I lost most of my friends. There weren't many, but even those few counted. I had nobody to play with. I lost all the people who showed me affection. But I lived on. I always did.
My father had me take etiquette lessons for purebloods. When I think about them now, I feel that he was harbouring an illusion, that a nine year old boy will find himself a pureblood mate and stick with her for his life. Needless to say - I didn't. I was eight, and why would he expect something from me already, was the question I never got an answer to. In hindsight, he probably thought to save me from his fate – associating with muggles meant you had to watch them get sick, old and die in pain, as your lips are salty from tears and untold healing spells that work only for wizards.
I did gain something from this, though. He was not a friend in full, but he was a valued acquaintance. He was outgoing and I was shy, he was smiling when I never did. He was excelling at the class, when I was just there and listened. He almost thought me to laugh again, like I did when mother was with me. He told me that she would always be with me if I remembered her. I almost believed him.
And one day I went to the lessons with half a smile. I believed myself that day. I wanted to tell him that I wanted to be his friend. That I was grateful for his kind words. And instead of finding him there, I found his father. A high, upstanding man, I had seen him exactly once before and his image burned into my brain as a prime example of a pureblooded aristocrat. He wasn't, but he was a good and strong man according to my friend. I did call him that in my mind that day, "my friend's father". And my friend's father looked like he was dying, his eyes bloody red from staying awake, his hands shaking, and I almost didn't recognise him at first. Still, being a child, and probably braver than I should have been, I walked up to him and asked a simple question. I never thought, that "Mr. Lupin is your son coming today?" could make him stagger as if he was hit with a hammer. He regained his composure minutes later and explained to the staring handful of children and our witch professor that he and his family were dropping out of the lessons due to the need to visit relatives in France, and that we shouldn't expect to see him or his son anytime soon. And so I had lost a friend I did not have.
~~(_^7 ~~(_^7
There were silent steps nearby but the rat woke up, and was ready to dart at any second. No danger came, and he tied settling down and sleeping, but he couldn't, he was hungry. Finally, after listening to the steps again, he got out of the smelly hay and peeked outside from a crack in the wall. And the man was walking towards him. Shivers ran through his tail as he smelled fresh blood. He froze.
~~(_^7 ~~(_^7
The platform was easy to find if you knew where to look. And, even if my father was at home, working, I knew enough about the platform. I was at the express, which would take me to even more lessons. I hated it. It was kind of amazing though. The crowds, the magical families present. It was as if all was good. My trunk was small, I had no pets, and because I was as silent as I could be, no one paid even a glance to me. I don't remember doing it, but I got on and found myself a compartment. It already had a boy in it, so I prepared to greet him adequately, but as I opened my mouth for a simple greeting, I couldn't make a sound. And I think I dropped my trunk, because the next fifteen minutes were spent putting my things back inside. All this time we were silent, moving as if we were not alive.
"Remus", I finally managed.
"Peter?"
He didn't smile. That was weird. He was always smiling. Perhaps I should have noticed the bags under his eyes, or his clothes, which looked a bit creepier than I had seen two years ago, but all I saw was the lack of smile. This Remus was wrong. It was not fitting. I didn't know what to do. So I just shook his hand, finally closed the trunk and slid it to the side of our compartment. We listened to the sounds surrounding the train, to the goodbyes everyone were saying, and remembering the lack of those for us. Finally, something clicked in my mind. I managed half a smile:
"Wait here, I have some old unfinished business to attend to."
That was our old code for a bathroom break, but he just nodded at that showing no emotion. I ran off as the train started moving. The plan was simple, and a golden galleon in my pocket agreed wholeheartedly. There is a trolley of sweets in the train, or so my father had told me. And Remus liked Sugar Quills, he always did. And he rarely had some. It should have worked. I carefully ran past a little redhead and a pale greasy haired boy and after a few more seconds my luck ran out, as not only I found myself the trolley but crashed into it. Sweets scattered everywhere, she was looking murderous and I was shaking, having dropped the golden coin somewhere in the collision.
"Boy!"
She tried to start a rant, as nearby compartment doors opened to reveal two heads, both smiling at us. In a few seconds they were roaring with laughter like mad, and I gave in to the merry mood for the first time since my mother. It wasn't even funny, but I don't think I had laughed this much since I was born. The witch, however, looked insulted and waved her wand to put everything back in the trolley.
"Boys, do you want something, or will you move away?"
I stopped laughing and dove in my pocket. The galleon was gone, and I started to panic just as much as I had been merry.
"Well... Yes, I... I'd like... Sugar... Quills... For a friend... But..." I stuttered lamely. The witch still didn't smile:
"How many would you like, or if you'd rather, how much can you..."
"I... Um... Had..."
The messy haired boy stepped to my side:
"I'll take two boxes."
The other one winked and flanked me from the other side putting his hand on my shoulder, adding a bit pompously:
"Make that four, I'm starving."
My two new friends paid for me while I was standing stiff and unmoving.
"James Potter", said one of them handing me one of the packages he now had, "for your friend."
His mate repeated the gesture "Sirius Black. And this one is for you."
I was staring at them mouth agape, hands on two boxes of quills, that I didn't even thank them. They didn't mind.
"You know you can tell us your name?"
"Or we would have to think of one for you ourselves"
"Peter. Peter Pettegrew", I managed, "look, guys, this is much, and if we would look around there should be my coin rolling around here somewhere, and I could, you know, pay you back?"
They exchanged glances at each other behind my head, and then both leaned in closer:
"Haven't you heard us? I'm a Potter and he's a Black, you really don't have to repay us anything. Noble and rich families and all that other nonsense."
"Or, you could consider this as a payment for the show. And what a good view that was. So, what got you running so fast you forgot to steer?"
~~(_^7 ~~(_^7
The man slumped near the wall of the barn. The smell of blood was immense, and the rat was getting even more uncomfortable. The man twitched a few times, let out an almost inaudible gasp and stilled. The rat gathered it's courage and got out through the gap and bravely strolled in front of the man. He had bite marks all over his face and arm. But that was not important, as the rat felt something more, something he had felt before and had almost forgotten. It was a terrifying moment, because for that second he remembered again that he was not, in fact a rat. And that made all the guilt come back.
~~(_^7 ~~(_^7
I was struggling in a losing battle against my laughter. So far, I held. I had just returned to Remus compartment and James was with me. We left the door open and as we entered, Potter suddenly stopped.
"Excuse me for asking, but are you by any chance The Remus Lupin?" James was gaping open mouthed at Remus, who was starting to feel uncomfortable, but nodded in agreement.
"Incredible", James let out a delighted gasp, "you truly are!", his voice was getting lauder "I am in the same compartment as Remus Lupin, can you believe it?".
The question was directed at me, so I feigned surprise, although there was a hint of inner laughter in the voice, "wait, so that wasn't a joke? You are The Lupin? I really have been sharing a compartment with you?" I let my voice turn into a squeak, "oh Merlin, you helped me put my stuff back into the truck?"
Potter turned back to Remus, face completely serious and concerned:
"Messier Lupin, I'm so sorry for my friend here, he apparently has lost his marbles. It can't be that you honoured him this much? Now everyone will be jealous, Messier Lupin having touched his books. Everyone will want to swap!"
Messier Lupin was staring at us as if we were mad.
"Messier Lupin? INCREDIBLE!" Sirius was shouting from the corridor, visible through the open door, his pocket betraying a simmer of silver, his face shining with a smile, "Would you give a signature for me to send to my mother?"
Messier Lupin finally regained a drop of composure, and managed a response:
"What do you mean?"
"Are you not the Messier Lupin, who tickled and then defeated the dragon at mere age of seven? "
Sirius exclaimed, stepping inside and closing the door. Then, James, Sirius and I quickly started shooting questions, one after the other:
"Are you not the Messier Lupin who swam around the British Isles with your hands tied behind your back?"
"Are you not the boy who can do all the spells after seeing them once?"
"Are you not the boy who can fly without a broom or wand?"
"Are you not the youngest animagus on earth?"
"Are you not the Minister of Magic?"
"Have you not been offered the position of Supreme Mugwump this summer?"
"Do you deny having being elected the co-headmaster of Hogwarts?"
"Will you not be teaching us defence against the dark arts?"
"Have you not been on the highest mountains and under the deepest seas?"
And finally we all chorused:
"Are you not the creator of Sugar Quills?"
The compartment was silent, except for muffled sounds from outside.
"None of those" Remus was already smiling, obviously thinking what was the point of all this nonsense, hints of annoyance in his face. I stood up, and pointed behind him.
"I am so sorry, but why do you have all this then?"
Remus jumped and turned around, staring at the wall and the huge, glittering golden letters.
"This compartment is reserved for Messier Remus Lupin and his friends"
Under the slogan there were multiple of certificates proving everything we accused him off. (Including the "president of the dragon tickling club") When he saw the four boxes of Sugar Quills, marked as "Created and manufactured by Messier Lupin himself" he turned around, his face an angry scowl, wand in his hand, and roared:
"OUT, you peasants! You are not worthy! You..."
We all broke into uncontrollable fit of laughter. When a prefect came by to check what was happening, Remus stood up and pointed at her accusingly before the ravenclaw even opened had mouth, "you do not have permission to be here – this compartment is for me and my friends", Lupin gestured towards the wall, which was, in fact, agreeing with his words. Prefect opened her mouth, eyes wide as saucers, closed it, glanced at the wall, turned around and left. We were rolling on the floor after that.
~~(_^7 ~~(_^7
"Where have you seen the lord?"
The man groaned in pain.
"Where?"
A groan again.
"Tell me or I'll let you die. This poison is painful."
"East, to the east", the answer finally came.
The dying eyes were watching in wonder as the small rat ran off. There was no sign of the one who asked questions.
~~(_^7 ~~(_^7
We arrived at the sorting only through our deputy headmistress office. There we were told to report to Filch tomorrow at eight, for painting the wall of our compartment. In hindsight, it was stupid to write Lupins true name on the wall. And McGonagall was quick at finding the friends mentioned. I think we broke the record of receiving detention before even getting sorted. When we finally were waiting to put on an old hat, we held a silent conversation. Remus, a smile never leaving his lips, was complaining:
"You know, I still say that it was your fault, Peter"
"No, it was those two marauders who stole the Quills for us."
"It was you who almost killed the trolley witch."
Sirius, heading towards the hat, stopped, "what did you say?"
McGonagall did not let us repeat anything as she proclaimed, annoyed - "Sirius Black, please hurry".
Our conversation died out. We turned to watch the sorting, which we knew Sirius was not looking for. He sat there, under the hat for fifteen seconds, stretched into minutes for us three, and probably taking hours for him. But then the hat screamed "GRYFFINDOR" and all was well.
Until I had to sit down there.
"Interesting", I heard, while thinking as hard as I could, that I wanted to be with my friends.
"You wouldn't consider Hufflepuff then, would you? No, you probably wouldn't. Slytherin, perhaps? No? Very well, be a GRYFFINDOR"
When we were all enjoying the feast Sirius repeated his question.
"What did you say just before the sorting?"
"Something about almost killing the trolley witch?"
"No, something Peter said?"
"That it was your and James fault we have detention tomorrow."
"No, he had something else too."
James smiled – "He called us marauders, Sirius."
"That's the one – marauder, James, marauders."
"It does have a certain ring to it, but" Remus supplied "it seems a little bit negative, that, stealing from the dead part..."
"No, you see its reverse. We did steal the sadness from ones looking almost dead. It fits."
"I did not look almost dead."
"Remus, we meant Peter."
I dropped my fork, "What?"
"Relax, it's fine, you were yet to rot. And you didn't smell that horribly."
"Shut up, Mr. Black"
"Don't call me that, sounds like my father is behind me."
"Shut up, Sirius", James was grinning like mad, perhaps he even was, "I have a plan. Do you see the slytherin with the greasy hair? I'd say we help him wash his hair, tomorrow at dinner?"
Sirius roared with laughter, I nodded, but Remus looked a bit unsure. I supplied an explanation.
"You know, Remus, it would make everyone smile."
"OK, Peter, I understand. Sirius, James, I'm in."
~~(_^7 ~~(_^7