Step Three: A Rollicking Good Time
Saturday morning, the day after the third full moon of the Marauders' Most Excellent Plan, found the dorm room of the Gryffindor fifth year boys turned into a war zone. The four inhabitants each sat on their own beds, kings of their own territories, looking warily at the other three as though expecting an invasion. They were sleepless, breakfastless, and-according to Remus-hopeless and reckless as well.
"The first thing I thought was, how am I going to keep them out of trouble? And then I thought, surely-"
"First thing you thought was your friends are amazing," Sirius interrupted, emphasizing his words with a glare that would have killed lesser men on the spot.
"Fine." Remus, heavily armored with righteous indignation, was not subdued. "The second thing I thought when you told me about this plan was, how will I keep them out of trouble? How will I stop them from running away with themselves when I am not, in fact, myself? Could they possibly run away with me?"
"You sound like a teacher," James said. This statement was typically a warning; Remus understood it as such, and normally he would stop moralizing (or at least get less obvious about it) whenever James issued this heads-up that he was losing patience.
Today, however, Remus' three dearest friends had led the wolf out of the Shack, thumbing their noses at every safety restriction that had permitted Remus to come to Hogwarts in the first place. Remus was in no mood to heed friendly warnings. "And then I thought: no, my friends aren't crazy. Yes, they're adventurous, yes, they may occasionally leap before they look, but-"
"Like how Padfoot turfed it down that big hill last night, am I right?" Peter said hopefully. But no one laughed, Sirius barely bothered to send him a dirty look, and Remus continued undeterred. Well, Peter thought, gave it my best shot.
"But they know their own limits. They know better than to get us into a genuinely dangerous situation."
"Damn straight," James said, thoroughly annoyed that calling Remus a teacher hadn't worked. "We do know our limits, and we haven't gotten anywhere near them."
"Here, here!" Sirius said loudly.
"You can't control a werewolf," Remus said despairingly. "Someone could get hurt. I don't mean a trip to the hospital wing, I mean-"
Sirius raised a hand, as though in class. "I'm going to cut you off right there, because I object to your thesis. I can too control a werewolf."
"You were literally following him in loop-de-loops around Prongs' legs," Peter said with a grin.
"Yes, I know, but if I were to become upset-"
"James! Go back over the plan, he's forgotten steps four and five." Sirius kept talking without pause, earning an exasperated look from James. "I did not learn how to turn into the biggest damn dog in existence so that you and I could play fetch together, and James did not create those antlers to give Peter a spot to rest his lazy ass."
"All I am saying is that we ought to be inside the Shrieking Shack, not outside, the first time we find out how well this plan actually works."
James saw his chance. The stuff that normally calmed Remus down was failing miserably; it looked like this might be the time Remus actually stood up to him and Sirius, and James didn't want to go there. So he tried a different tactic. "Actually, that isn't all you're saying," James said, forcing an expression of pleasant surprise. "You know what I just noticed? You remember all this. Nobody had to tell you what went on last night, you just knew."
Of course the other three had all noticed this immediately, because it had ruined their plans to hold off telling Remus about their excursion until they could figure out a good way to do it. Remus, however, looked as though he hadn't really made this realization yet. "You definitely remember more than the first two times. Why's that?" James asked innocently.
"I... I don't really know." Peter looked up hopefully at the change in Remus' tone. "I... suppose it's possible that whatever... effects... your presence has on me could take awhile to make themselves known..."
Remus sounded completely disarmed. James shot Sirius a look, one that said keep this going more clearly than words could have. "You really mean you haven't noticed?" Sirius said, a touch of derision in his voice as he flopped back onto his bed, looking up at the ceiling. James experienced a pang of envy at Sirius' ability to sound completely genuine when he was being manipulative. James was good at it, yes, but Sirius was a master. "I mean, it's not just the memory thing. Pay attention to yourself some time. Here you are, wide awake and alert without a scratch or bruise on you. People aren't going to know who you are anymore if you don't go back to looking half dead half the time."
"I..." Remus didn't finish his sentence, and Sirius risked a quick grin at James.
"And it's going to get even better," James said. "I mean, this is only three months' worth. Who knows what kind of a good influence hanging out with three upstanding Animagi is going to turn out to be?"
Remus' face clearly expressed his desire to start lecturing them again. But he couldn't muster any more anger, and ended up giving an exasperated sigh that made the others grin. They knew it was the end of the fight. "All right," Remus conceded. "You're the best, I'm sorry for being so upset, etcetera, etcetera. I just... If any of you knew the level of precaution I used to live with, the way my parents handled it at home..."
"Yeah, but your parents are crazy," Sirius put in. "Trust me, as a fellow sufferer, I recognize the signs. Paranoia, difficulty trusting, skewed views of the world."
"You're too kind," Remus murmured.
"Don't mention it. We sufferers of crazy parents must stick together. You know what you need, Remus? You need to do some trust exercises."
"Like what?" James asked, intrigued.
Peter piped up. "Muggles do this thing they call trust falls where they climb on a piece of furniture and then fall off and their friends catch them. Or something like that."
A gleam appeared in James' eyes, and jumped from there to Sirius' eyes in a fraction of a second. Remus felt a panicky urge to throttle Peter, but he knew it was too late. "No," he said, as firmly as he could.
"From the furniture? Maybe that's how Muggles do it," James said scornfully.
"No."
"Pitiful, how they try to get along without magic," Sirius agreed. "I'd say at least from the balustrades."
"I said no..."
"Balustrades, Padfoot?" James said, with an air of disappointment. "When we have here before us the two best fliers Hogwarts has ever seen? Fetch the brooms, my good man."
"Does anyone care that I've said no?"
"Better give it up," Peter said sympathetically. "When James starts saying 'my good man,' they're past the point of no return."
"You're doing it too, Wormtail," Sirius said. "Let no man sleep in this dorm without he hath proved his faith in his comrades."
"This is your fault," Remus told the suddenly pale Peter. "You're the one who said trust falls."
"And a good suggestion it was," Sirius said, undeterred. "Nothing says friendship like jumping off a broom at fifty feet! Right, Prongs?"
"To friendship! To trust! To Gryffindor daring-do!"
"To the hospital wing," Peter muttered glumly.
Remus was not surprised when Sirius and James selected him to go first. He was a little surprised when he agreed.
My brain is being affected by sleep deprivation and mob mentality, he informed himself in a curiously calm mental tone as he gained altitude over the Quidditch pitch. James and Sirius were already circling below him like some inverted kind of carrion birds. I feel grateful to my friends and so I allow them to pressure me into situations I would normally avoid.
Remus couldn't remember the last time he'd been this high on a broom. It was possible he never had been. He could feel wind in his hair, he could see the entirety of the grounds, and he had to admit it was kind of amazing. Another, more honest mental voice joined the conversation: You would normally avoid these situations, and you would miss out on everything that makes your life enjoyable. You do it because you trust them, not because you want to fit in. And, if you can bear to admit to yourself, you knew what was happening last night and you went along with it.
Peter was clearly visible on the ground, clutching his wand. It had been James and Sirius' idea for one person to stay on the ground, ready to save the day with a spell in case something went awry. It was a precaution that Remus wouldn't have expected of them, one they never would have taken in the past. Was it possible they were getting just a tad more responsible?
"Any time now," James called up to him, sounding mildly annoyed. Sirius also called something, but the wind grabbed most of it and all Remus could make out was his nickname, Moony.
This is insane, the calm voice informed him. You might want to just land the broom and hide for the rest of the day.
Remus was getting better and better at ignoring that voice. But just in case further exposure to it would wear him down, he decided not to wait. He released the broom handle, and let himself fall.
There was an exhilarating, utterly terrifying moment of free fall. He couldn't breathe and could barely see from the wind stinging his eyes. Then came a painful jolt, in which more parts of his anatomy than he thought possible got bruised and his robes stopped moving before his body did, causing them to leave deep red indentations around his neck. Then Sirius' voice, torn between exasperation and something fiercer that Remus couldn't name. "And that is how I will always catch you, you stupid, paranoid, ignoramus werewolf."
"Ow."
"Complaints, complaints."
Peter was cheering. Sirius did a victory lap before flying Remus back down to the ground, while James chased after Remus' broomstick. Then Remus took up the safecheck position on the ground while Peter was coaxed into the air. After many, many reassurances that James and Sirius were "right below you, damn it," and were "very accustomed to catching Quidditch balls a damn sight smaller than you, you idiot," Peter finally jumped from his own broom to James'. He looked extraordinarily pleased with himself, but nonetheless grateful to be returned to the ground for the rest of it. Remus dutifully flew up with the other two, but they all knew without it being said that no one but Sirius or James should be attempting the catches. James went first, with absolutely no sign of fear, screaming some kind of war cry as he jumped. Sirius complained loudly that James had deliberately pulled his hair while being caught. Then Sirius irritated James by flying higher than anyone else had before jumping. As soon as James had caught him he demanded a second go.
It was as James was getting ready for his second try, looking like he was going to fly halfway to the sun, that Madame Hooch came running onto the field, screeching and threatening a lifetime's worth of detentions if they did not cease and desist this instant. Remus noticed that, in another sign of increasing responsibility, Sirius didn't make any snide responses or do anything else to break his concentration until James had flown lower than him and it was clear Sirius didn't need to catch him.
Unaffected by Madame Hooch's lecture, the elated Marauders trooped back into the castle and were the first to take their seats at the lunch table, having been awake and unfed since dinner the night before. They found themselves the subject of much admiration as the tale of their antics on the Quidditch pitch spread, and each gloried in it in their own way.
That night as they were finally getting ready for bed, James glanced at Remus and said, "Same plan next month?"
Remus spread his hands in a gesture of acquiescence. "Same plan next month."
"Good on you, Moony," Sirius said drowsily, already under his covers.
"Just catch me more gently next time, will you?"
"Whatever. I'll have you prancing in circles," Sirius said with a yawn.
Remus crawled into bed. "Has it occurred to you yet that I might be leading you in circles?"
"Pshaw. The wolf loves me."
"Or you love the wolf."
"Clearly you aren't remembering things as well as we thought you-"
"GOODNIGHT, YOU TWO STUPID CANINES," James said loudly, putting out all the lights in the room with a flick of his wand.
"Goodnight, oh be-antlered one."
"Goodnight, ratface."
"Goodnight, lunatic."
"Goodnight, Lord of the Fleas."
"GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY NOW SHUT UP OR THE NEXT PERSON TO SPEAK GETS HEXED."