Hi guys, am currently facing a huge writer's block and therefore this chapter probably isn't very good. (It's really hard to even churn out the grammar. Feels like plowing through custard.) But thanks for reading anyway! Love you allllllll :D
There was no way to avoid lessons the next day; Professor McGonagall had thoughtfully placed timetables by their bedsides, with a postscript adding that they were indestructible and that they were not to try Vanishing, Modifying or Destroying it. Remus rather thought there might be a reason why the last word was capitalized, despite it not being a sort of spell in itself.
He glanced at the gentle reminder again, which happened to be capitalized, italicized, underlined, and then bolded in a large red font.
This, however, seemed to be an underestimation of Sirius' dogged perseverance, and an overestimation of his intellect, because he yelled "incendio!" with all his might, and cremated the hangings of his four-poster bed for his effort.
James, wrinkling his nose at the burning smell, was running his fingers through already messy hair, frowning.
"Today we have Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and Astronomy! Can you believe that, first period and we're stuck with old Snivelly already.'
"Great," groaned Peter, "He should have been caretaker, not that filthy Filch. Or was it filchy Filth? Anyway, he could have shined the suits of armour, he's a self-sufficient grease factory."
"Well, you're probably right there," mused James. "Anyway, let's go for breakfast, I'm starved."
"Strange," grinned Sirius, "I wasn't under the impression that you'd want to go to Potions on a full stomach. Still," he admitted, "at least there's a cauldron to puke in right in front of you." He turned to the smoldering wreck that was clearly beyond any repair and sighed.
"Can I exchange beds with you tonight, Moony? Pretty please?"
***
"Old Snivelly", as he was endearingly nicknamed by his, er, ex-classmates, was most displeased with the first class of the day. It comprised a motley crew of Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and – his eyes narrowed with distaste – a small gang of Gryffindors. All of whom, unfortunately, were imbeciles with the more-than-slight tendency to cause dangerously large explosions in class.
He tried his best to ignore Black, who had propped his feet up on the table, inches from the Potions Masters' robes.
Those robes in question were spotlessly clean. Not that you could tell. (There was a reason why he always wore black.) If he dared to sully them...
"Today, we will be brewing an antidote that will cure most venoms," Snape began smoothly, pointedly looking over a certain shaggy head. "Or should I say, attempting to brew – it is a relatively straightforward recipe that you should be able to follow, if you were, say, all not woefully inadequate dunces that cannot differentiate clockwise from counterclockwise."
Sirius glanced at Remus slightly guiltily.
"If there are no questions, you may begin. Don't touch that, Avery, personally, I'd hate to see your fingers blister and turn purple."
The sympathy in his voice wouldn't have convinced Draco Malfoy, who wasn't much of an expert on sympathy himself; nevertheless, Avery hurriedly pulled his hand away from what looked suspiciously like Bobotuber pus.
The lesson was easy for James, Sirius and Remus – Peter kept watching James and copying his actions. The only problem was that he was not very adept at this either; twice, he sliced his finger while peering over at James cutting his roots, then emptied half the newts' tails he was supposed to stew onto the floor. As he scrambled to pick them up, the crisp swish of a cloak announced Snape's arrival.
"A most stunning display of ineptitude, Pettigrew," he sneered. "Not least because your antidote is a disgusting, rat-grey colour." Peter tried to ignore the allusion, although he was sweating profusely. "Tell me, does anything I say penetrate the layers of stupidity and foolishness wrapped around your empty skull? Or were you too busy fawning over your friend Potter, as the other depraved, mental patients do?"
Peter's face was the same colour as his potion; James, on the other hand, smirked widely.
"No need to be jealous, Snivellus," he drawled smugly. "I'll bet you're still all alone, friendless and revolting."
Snape sallow face twitched furiously, his hands balling into fists. He dearly, desperately wanted to break Potter's nose.
James wasn't finished. He knew that teachers didn't punch their students, even if they dearly, desperately wanted to.
"And what happened to you and Evans? Did you get tired of forcing her to hang around? Or did you just do something wrong, like wipe your overlarge nose on her?"
Snape control was stretched to breaking point. A revelation on Potter's part here might be helpful. Maybe that he was dead, his son was an orphan and that Snape would never, ever wipe his overlarge nose on Evans. But Dumbledore had sworn him to secrecy. (Except for the last point, and he refused to stoop so low.)
So, with much difficulty, he remained silent, except for a horrible choking noise in the back of his throat.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Potter," he said finally, lips curling. "It looks like you're set to rival your... ah, son, in the race to leave Gryffindor with an empty hourglass. Keep up the good work." Turning to Peter, he added coldly, "Don't bother submitting your potion, Pettigrew. I don't want to handle such rubbish. You have a 'T' for this assignment, and a most deserving grade it is."
And away he swept, determinedly ignoring the retching sounds Sirius was making behind his back.
***
"That didn't go well, did it?" Lupin remarked casually as they walked down the corridor.
"On the contrary, Moony, it couldn't have gone better," corrected James. "Did you see Snivellus' face when I accidentally poured my flask over him?"
"I think his robes were clean," said Sirius, sighing regretfully. "Not that you could tell."
They turned the corner and were most affronted to see a decidedly squat figure dressed in frilly, shocking pink.
"What," asked Sirius in revulsion, "is that?"
"That," came Hermione's disapproving voice from over his shoulder, "is your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"Ew."
They walked into class, sniggering. Dolores Umbridge cast an appraising eye over the four new boys.
They didn't look like promising material.
"Children, please turn to page one hundred and thirty-nine. Wands away. There will be no need to talk."
"Oh, but there is a need, Professor," came a loud drawl from James. "You see, we do need a change from a croaking toad from time to time."
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr..." she trailed off when James neglected to respond. "Make that fifteen points."
Next, her gaze found the tawny-haired boy.
"My dear boy," she simpered, "your robes are awful, I'm afraid. Five points from Gryffindor for the bad impression you'll give others. Now, I'm sure your parents can always apply for financial aid from the Ministry, the poor things."
Remus bit his lip but Sirius snorted derisively.
"Ah, old hag, go stick your wand up your–"
The loud gasp, and some muffled snickers, drowned out the last word. Umbridge, however, had caught the gist of it.
She needed to buy more of those detention quills.
***
"Hermione, can I talk to you for a moment?"
Hermione turned to find Remus looking slightly apprehensive. She glanced at the rest of the Marauders (who were miming something rather offensive) and nodded. They surreptitiously sidled away from the group.
"Can I help you, Prof– Er, Remus?"
"It's okay, Hermione, I know," he said, and she gave a soft "oh!" of surprise.
Remus supposed it was surprising for her to not know something.
"I would have asked Harry and Ronald, but since they're busy..."
Busy joining in the offensive miming, no doubt.
"I've heard of Dolores Umbridge in our time, wasn't she at the Ministry?"
"She still is," sniffed Hermione. "And the Ministry is now at Hogwarts too, albeit in the form of an absolutely hopeless frog."
"Toad, actually," grinned Lupin briefly, but then his expression sobered. "I had the impression she didn't like... near human creatures, that sort of thing."
Hermione caught his grimace. "It's all right, Remus, she won't find out about you, we'll speak to Professor Dumbledore!" she hastily assured him. "And you're not a 'near human creature' or any of the rubbish, you're just..."
"Occasionally furry?" smirked Sirius, appearing from behind them. "Where did you two run off to, we thought Umbridge had kidnapped you!"
"Oh yes, and you look worried," commented Hermione dryly.
"Well, since you're not being tortured by the Evil Pink One, what were you doing?" asked James.
Remus cleared his throat and said nothing. James looked astonished.
"You were snogging her, weren't you, Moony! I'd never have thought we'd live to see that day!" Remus opened his mouth but James patted him on the shoulder. "It's all right, don't be ashamed! I mean, personally I thought if you snogged anyone it'd be, y'know, but..."
"I WAS TALKING TO HER, OKAY?!" bellowed Lupin quite suddenly, and everyone froze in shock. He then looked embarrassed at his outburst and compensated by making for the next classroom at a furious speed.
The six remaining students watched him go.
"You shouldn't poke your nose in where it doesn't belong, you know," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "Sometimes I think you're exactly like Harry."
"Hey!" protested Harry. "I don't do that! It's Ron, he's the one who tries to find out about you and Krum– I mean, er, well..."
Hermione glared at Ron, whose ears were so red they looked as if they were going to explode. She made a sudden about-turn and stalked off after Remus. Harry was trying – and failing – to put on a chagrined expression, and Ron looked rather like an overripe tomato.
"Ah well," said James, putting his arm around Sirius. "This means you've still got a chance with him, eh, Padfoot?"