The Order and the Rise of the Marauders
While all the students were revelling in the simple pleasure of freedom at the end of the examinations, a very high profile meeting was taking place in the magically extending office of the Headmaster. This was what constituted of what he hoped would be a strong resistance to Voldemort. Aberforth, his brother, and Elphias Doge, his oldest living friend were present, as were Charlus Potter, a trusted fighter, Marius Hurst, William Cracknel, Albert Bird, Josephine Siddle, Martha Weston, John Salisbury, Ignatius and Mildred Prewett, Dedalus Diggle, Alastor Moody, Reginald Dearborn, Gerald Longbottom and his sister Astoria Longbottom, Gerald's wife Augusta, Rubeus Hagrid and Minerva McGonagall. These nineteen people, with him as their head, were the primary resistance against the coming storm – to his mind, of course. Another group, all four members of which he hoped to eventually recruit, had already stolen a march on him. Two of his current number had already pledged their loyalties to this group, and incidentally, those two were among the ones he trusted the most.
As soon as the call had come, Mad-Eye and Charlus had both rushed to Hogwarts. Having reached the meetingplace earlier than the others (and Mad-Eye having secured the area completely), they had decided upon a plan to meet with the three 'kids' later.
Lately, Charlus wasn't happy at all with his supposed grandson. The little berk had stopped writing altogether. The letters were something that both Dorea and he enjoyed immensely and looked forward to. More importantly however, he wasn't happy with The One for thrusting the responsibility on a child. Wasn't it His prerogative to ensure that people like this Voldemort didn't turn up at all? Why burden a child?
Mad-Eye, on his part, dispassionately looked around the room and sighed. Nothing had changed. It was just the same as the same meeting that had taken place three months earlier in the previous timeline. He already knew what Albus was about to say, just as Charlus did. He already knew that Albus would press them into some sort of an 'intelligence-service-mould' and ask them for information. Once he had been enthusiastic – as much as it was possible for him to be so – about the whole venture. Now he saw it as a bunch of people with utopian beliefs attempting to be the other side in the war. He felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment. He remembered Albus expounding the importance of arresting Riddle the last time around.
Oh, there was hope that the hint about Horcruxes would change his mind regarding the threat, but it was slim. Albus would have probably held hope that Riddle would feel remorse, the apparent 'medicine' to the splitting of one's soul. He cast away the maudlin thoughts. He had seen the progress that had already been made, and had participated in it. Granted, it was all based on knowledge gained from a future lived, but it was progress all the same, and he rather wished for the day to come when he would raise a glass and laugh about things that would happen by November 1978.
He looked at the people coming in. Fools, the lot of them, he decided. Well, most of them were. He'd known Ignatius and that man was a tenacious bulldog. Mildred was no slouch and had had the unique distinction of catching Alastor unawares after the war against Grindelwald. Charlus was keeping a facade of a pureblood Lord, but within that, he was already manipulating the Ministry steadily in favour of his grandson. Alastor respected the man. Cracknel and Bird had been his protégés as Auror Trainees, and were good men. The rest of them though were a rag-tag team of businessmen, schoolteachers, Ministry Bureaucrats and Wizengamot politicians, and a very innocent half-giant. There was nothing to inspire confidence in the group.
His eyes met Charlus' and he realised that The Potter had just made a similar assessment, if his frown was anything to go by. They shared a headshake in commiseration and camaraderie.
Albus appeared into their midst, dressed as usual in garishly coloured robes. The day's colours were neon pink, deep purple and lemon yellow. How could one person honestly wear those many colours at the same time? Perhaps it was just a ploy to be the centre of attention – it was like being unable to avert one's eyes from wreckage.
"Good afternoon, friends," Albus addressed them all, his customary eye-twinkle missing. "I hope you understand why we are all here."
"This is about the Voldemort creature, isn't it?" Elphias asked.
"It is," Albus replied with a slow nod.
"Is the problem so great as to need the Order again, Albus?" Minerva sniffed, but there was a warble of fear in her voice.
"Problems rarely manifest into their complete scope immediately, Minerva. You should know that. And we are not looking at just a murderer..."
"A mass murderer," Aberforth corrected.
"A mass murderer, indeed," agreed Albus. "We are in fact looking at impending darkness, one that will attempt to swallow this world more efficiently and easily than Gellert ever did."
"You don't honestly mean that Albus!" gasped Minerva. She received several voices of support.
"Indeed I do. In fact, we should be thankful to our first-year students for pointing the seriousness of the matter to us."
There were several exclamations of confusion and disbelief when he said that. Both Charlus and Mad-Eye sat a bit straighter as Albus mentioned the three 'kids'. This was new. Albus was not this serious at the start of the war the first time around. Was he worried? Yes. Was he bordering on afraid? No.
"Are any of you conversant with the French language?" Albus asked.
"I am," answered Astoria Longbottom.
"Then you must realise that Voldemort is not a true name."
Astoria stared into the distance for a moment, before whispering, "Flee from death."
"Yes. Flee from death. I fear that we are up against a Necromancer."
"NO!" cried Augusta in disgust, as did several others.
"I am sorry to say this, but I fear it. I fear it more than anything else."
A hush spread across the room as Albus Dumbledore verbalised fearing something. At long last, Mildred spoke, "A necromancer is a bad thing, Albus, but I wonder why he must be fought."
"What do you mean?"
"This man, he mustn't be simply a necromancer. There are several necromancers in England, as we all know. Many people are entranced by the concept of death, afterlife and life beyond the Veil. None of them has attacked or murdered people. Why did this man do it? What is his agenda? Who is he really? What is his past?"
"Finally some sense," Mad-Eye barked in assent. "We cannot fight an enemy that we know nothing about. Do we kill him? Do we arrest him? Is he subject to English laws? There are many questions Albus."
It was precisely that sort of thought process that Dumbledore valued the Order. Contrary to popular belief, he actually preferred people thinking for themselves. True, he didn't like his secrets come to the fore, but at the same time, the teacher in him revelled in the process itself by which the truth and knowledge was unveiled. It was why he never spoke many things outright.
"All of those are very pertinent questions, the answers of which I do not possess at this time. I am, however, working to find those very answers," he assured them.
As usual, when Dumbledore spoke, people accepted the answer unquestioningly. It was one of the perils of his position.
Alastor and Charlus exchanged a wry smile, before the latter decided to cast a line into Albus' information reserves. "It's just a thought, Albus, but how long have you been a teacher here?"
"Forty three years this coming September," the Headmaster replied.
"Then you must know most of the students that studied under you, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," Albus replied cautiously.
"So if this person is English, don't you think that he might have been one of your students? You could check up on them, maybe get some background on this Voldemort creature."
Albus smiled widely. "A wonderful suggestion, Charlus!" complimented Dumbledore. "That is an excellent avenue to start investigations!"
Charlus only nodded. Now that he saw the way the Order worked he felt that the organisation would be nothing more than an annoying fly for Voldemort, if this was the way they intended to go after a murderer.
"What exactly do you need us to do, Headmaster?" asked Cracknel.
"Ah. Now we come to the point. We don't, as of this moment, know what Voldemort has asked for. Has he contacted the Ministry? Has he sent any emissaries? It is important to us."
"So right now you want information."
"Yes William."
"You shall have it sir, so long as doing so doesn't infringe our oaths."
"Of course," Dumbledore answered genially.
Alastor frowned. Then he remembered. Dumbledore didn't become the Chief Warlock till just after January 1981. Telling him anything much was a breach of their Auror Oaths.
"What about us, Albus?" Gerald asked, finally entering the conversation.
"The Wizengamot, Gerald," answered Albus, "is the place that a Dark Lord will really want to bring under control. I need you to look out for changing or new alliances, breaks of alliances, policies, new bills and such with Charlus." He pointed to The Potter. "I want you both to understand bills as and when they are brought forth. The Order of Merlin awardees will, as well, support the decisions you reach after thorough discussions."
"At the moment, we will have to court the neutrals, Dumbledore," Gerald answered. "They always scare me. Each side may end up having enough incentive – and none at all – to get them to cooperate."
Dumbledore frowned. "That is true." His grimace was clear for all to see. He never trusted the neutrals either. To his mind they were always one step away from the Dark, not businesspeople taking each policy on its own merit as something that would help or hinder their businesses instead of considering the policies as alignments. "At the moment, however, I ask you to formally join the Order. This right here, our Hogwarts chapter, will be the set of people whom other people will look at as leaders against the coming darkness. Are you willing to commit yourself to the cause?"
Unlike Voldemort, who needed fear to supplement his rhetoric, Dumbledore already commanded respect to wrap his agenda in. People signed up in a trice.
It was a marvellous study in influence. Dumbledore always had to just say the word, and people were willing to do anything for him. It wasn't only because of his defeat of Grindelwald and his work with Flamel – though that was an important part of the whole Dumbledore persona. Many people had been helped out of legal – but not moral – tight spots by Dumbledore. He had connected people by helping them, and without holding the help over them. He never gave them the sense of them being beholden to him in some way. This made people really grateful to him, and engendered trust. That was how the man worked. People aligned themselves to him irrespective of their personal opinion, which they would then consider immaterial.
The process was an oath of sorts. They would stand against the enemy, they would not betray Dumbledore's confidence, and they would do everything in their power to preserve the sanctity of magic and peace in the magical world. It was the same oath they had sworn the last time, Alastor remembered. In Charlus' honest opinion, it was utter dragon dung. Between them, the two men completely dissected the oath and found it wanting.
People would change their views regarding who the enemy was. They might not be able to betray Albus, but as Pettigrew and Snape had done before, it didn't preclude them from betraying each other. He retrospectively understood Albus' insistence that Snape was loyal to him. Loyalty was subjective. Loyalty to Albus didn't necessarily extend to anyone else. People could grow to believe that 'eliminating mudbloods' would preserve the sanctity of the magical world, that only purebloods had the right to wield magic. There was no provision to prevent actions arising out of such change of views.
"Dumbledore is magically the wisest, greatest and most powerful wizard – mind you, I said 'wizard', not 'man'." Charlus remembered his grandson's words as they had been spoken to him. Alastor and he shared a look of empathy and exasperation over it.
Later that afternoon, just after the meeting ended, Remus, Hadrian and Jane met up with both Order members in the PTIEC. They had known about the impending Order meeting of course.
"He took the hint," Mad-Eye informed them curtly.
"About Horcruxes?" Jane asked.
"Yes. He didn't say it explicitly, but it was rather obvious." It was also obvious that Alastor was not happy about it, and so also wasn't Charlus. What made it a bit flummoxing was that both men were also torn about the whole matter.
Hadrian took the bait. "That is bad how?"
"Don't you understand?" asked Charlus incredulously. The three younger ones shook their heads in unison. "The very reaction of and disclosure by Albus is bad! Firstly, he has to have had some sort of lead. It simply has to be a solid lead! He declared it to the Order!"
The three younger time travellers frowned once more. They still couldn't comprehend what the problem was.
"Are you three fools?" barked Alastor. "It could mean that he may have caught on to the Horcruxes already!"
"But that was our plan when we enacted the drama that day!" protested Hadrian.
"And you had not counted on him telling the Order that," Charlus explained, interrupting what was rapidly descending into a shouting match.
"He told the Order?" Remus gasped. "Albus Dumbledore let out a secret of that magnitude?"
"If you'd cease with the dramatics, I'd tell you," Alastor growled. Remus' attempt at slight levity was trampled upon as he nodded sheepishly.
Charlus and Alastor then relayed everything that had happened during the meeting. They produced the members list. The instruction was implicit. Ambush members and check their credibility, and if possible, prevent them from talking about the necromantic leanings of the new Dark Lord with anyone but an Order member, and even then, in the highest possible security. Even one word spoken out of place, and the whole mission would be in disarray.
"And you want us to do that first, and ensure that nobody suspects you?"
"Yes," answered Alastor. "By pointing out to Albus that Riddle has done something to prevent death, you have created the problem. Now you will solve it."
Jane gave a disgruntled grunt, while the boys sighed resignedly.
Then they were told about the oath. The reaction was predictably explosive, particularly from Jane.
"Is he arrogant, senile, insane or just plain incompetent?" she asked. "The oath is not a good enough oath at all! Each clause is just a pointer to clever people regarding how the oath can be subverted! Don't betray Dumbledore – anyone else is fair game! Who is the enemy? What is the oath takers idea of sanctity of magic and peace in the magical world? It is absolute bullshit!"
The two elder men grinned at each other. The 'little witch' as they called her in jest and fondness was absolutely on the ball with her observations.
"That's the thing, lassie," Alastor grumbled. "It was the thing that drew my attention to it. Ever since I have come back to now, I have always been checking anything I put my lot in with. The Order needed a lot of retrospective analysis, and it is quite obvious that the Organisation as a whole was an utter failure. More and more now, to me, they seem like citizen groups that go lodge a protest with the local political biggie."
"I still don't understand it," Hadrian butted in. "The Order wanted to influence the magical world. Or perhaps it wanted to fight Voldemort. Why exactly were the two exclusive? From what I can remember, Voldemort was not a person, but the front of the insidious supremacist-terrorist movement. Again, as far as I can remember, the Order didn't act against the terrorists, nor did it become a political front to battle it out against that lot in the Wizengamot. What role did it perform, other than as a response or combat-aid team?"
"Nothing," replied Alastor. "Last time, as he did now, Dumbledore did appoint both Charlus and Gerald to work the Wizengamot. But both were killed by 1978, and neither had been able to make much headway, truthfully speaking. Major bills that they brought out almost always failed because of insufficient votes. The Death Eaters either killed the supporters or resorted to kidnapping and blackmail. So they really got nothing much done."
Charlus sobered a bit over that, while the others nodded in understanding.
"I take it that just like after 1981, a majority of that faction is comprised of Death Eaters?" remarked Remus.
"Yes."
"That's quite unfortunate."
"Yes."
"They won't have a faction to speak of once we are done?"
"Yes."
"Excellent!" exclaimed the werewolf and his nephew from the future in unison with identical evil grins.
Jane rolled her eyes at them. "What else happened?"
"Just what usually happened in Order meetings – nothing," answered Charlus with a snort. He had been in the Order as a twenty year old back in 1945, so he did know.
"Again, it isn't unexpected. Well, fair enough. Would you two mind waiting here with Remus? We intend to teach him to apparate, but right now he can't so..."
"Alright," answered Charlus.
Two hours later, both exhausted Hands were back in the PTIEC. Alastor raised an eyebrow at them in question.
"All the other seventeen people are accounted for," Jane replied shortly, as she attempted to catch her breath. "We ambushed them, stunned them, then we used Legillimency on them while they were stunned, tied together the memory of the meeting and put up secrecy spells around it. We will have to go after the old man next, but it will take some time. Even for us it will take quite some power."
Alastor grunted in acceptance.
"Unexpected revelations from Dumbledore aside, what is the progress that you have made as far as your mission goes?" asked Charlus.
"It's a good thing that you mentioned it," commented Hadrian. He drew out the shield that Tom Riddle had once won and a small glass ball that looked like it had gone murky from the inside, and handed both items over to the Auror. "Mad-Eye, as promised, you get your very own brand new detector," he informed the Auror in the manner of a car salesman completing a deal. "The ball is made of Zarthrock's crystal."
Alastor nearly dropped the ball as Charlus opened his mouth in shock. "Where and how did you find any Zarthrock's crystal at all?"
Zarthrock's crystal was the ultimate containment substance for any sort of magic that mankind knew. Anything encased inside the crystal was absolutely isolated from outside magical influences while at the same time its own effects on anything outside the crystal were nullified. Jane had likened it to the magical equivalent of Kryptonite. As it stood, encasing the soul piece inside the crystal would essentially destroy it as the vile thing would be starved of magic to sustain it. It was why the ball that Alastor now held was first etched with intersecting nanoscopic seams. These seams were then infused with snow of Phoenix tears, the purest solid substance on earth that was obtained when the warm tears of the bird mixed with freshly fallen snow. Both materials were massively rare, and were extremely important alchemically – even more so than the Philosopher's stone.
"Have you ever wondered why Goblins give away gold at cheap rates when muggles exchange paper money for it?" asked Hadrian.
Now that they thought of it, it was odd. Gold, as the time travellers had found, was sold at almost scrap prices by the goblins, considering that it was a precious metal. It was at the time averaging in the region of twenty five pounds an ounce – or, as the Galleons were an ounce and a quarter in weight nearly 31 and a quarter pounds. Yet the goblins never charged more than ten pounds per Galleon.
"Why?"
"Firstly, the greatest kept secret in Gringotts is not the magic of their protections on vaults. No. Their greatest secret is the fact that they have material mines under the bank. Zarthrock's Crystal is found in the same mines as gold. At very high temperatures as are found as one goes deeper and nearer to the earth's core, and under the influence of leylines, a variety of minerals – none of which have even a miniscule amount of gold – fuse to form the crystal. It is the ultimate magical damper for any kind of magic, not just human magic. It is the crystal that goblins covet the most," explained Jane in her best 'professor' voice. "They also infuse a bit of it into anything they sell to the humans, with a specific set of magics cast on them along with the magic of the user. So long as the one to whom it is sold lives and uses the item, the item itself cannot be used against them even if it is stolen. Once the first buyer dies, that component has to be renewed. It is why they always want it back and hate the things being inherited by the next of kin."
"So essentially, we are using the things that goblins treat as scrap as our money?"
"Well not scrap exactly, since it is their business and we know that they take that seriously, but they don't value gold the way we do."
"But wouldn't it make sense to take more money for little gold? I mean wouldn't that create exchange for them?"
"What use is it to them? Muggle money is just decorated paper, as far as those surly, greedy buggers are concerned. They are only concerned with the business of selling gold to magicals. Or have you never wondered where the gold to make the galleons comes from?" Remus asked as an afterthought. "Goblins have always made their homes near the biggest gold mines. It puts them in control of both the gold and the crystal. They then control the metal flow into the noble metal markets that cater to magical-only needs. They are worse than wizards when it comes to shunning the muggles – though they at least have reason to do so."
"This information is interesting and all that, but it does not pertain to our problem. How did you procure the Zarthrock?"
"Come now, Mad-Eye," chided Hadrian. "If gold can be smuggled by cartels, why should goblins and the crystal be any different? We intercepted one two days after we last met. We have been taking turns loitering around Gringotts. Of course, we were checking for something else, but this was fortuitous. We found out a group of the goblins smuggling it away, and killed a few of them with goblin means and stole some of what they were carrying. Then we used a disguise and complained to the head of the Horde, and also reported the goblin killings. He promptly executed the remaining lot and gave us one percent of the entire booty as a reward. All told, we got a whopping three kilos of the crystal from them, and another two which we had stolen. They had bartered away ten percent of their ready stock of the crystal in exchange for the other party's help in overthrowing the incumbent director."
"And how did you lot create the ball?"
"It has very low density compared to most other crystals, and the same spells that are useful in wandmaking can be used to shape it, so creating the soulball itself was not a big problem, nor was transferring the piece from the trophy," answered Remus. "The problem was in keeping the thing active. We had to keep it from possessing you, and also ensure that it remained useful. So we have further infused it phoenix tears, which Fawkes was so gracious to lend, and fresh snow can be created."
The two elder men had to hand it to the kids. They had done something completely illegal, for completely good ends. And they had done it in style.
"Where are you storing it? We can't put it into Gringotts."
"The Chamber, of course," Jane answered. "So is the thing to your satisfaction, Alastor?"
"You bet it is!" the man replied with something very close to gleeful enthusiasm.
Charlus also nodded in appreciation. "How much of that snaky bloke is gone?"
"We've taken out three trinkets now – this one was the unaccounted for item. Mad-Eye had a lead on a possible location, so we are going to visit that place about two or three weeks after we are out of here. We know of another location where Dumbledore had taken me last time around. We don't think it is a solid lead yet, but it needs monitoring. Even if we do find those things, we are not going to touch them for a while. Hogwarts is sacrosanct, so he won't come searching for the Diadem. It is no longer an anchor and is clean. The Ring we have left there, but we have extracted the soul piece from it as well. The detector based on it we have under a Fidelius in Diagon Alley. The other is here. That's about it. Right now we are going to keep things down to that."
"And...?"
"And we will start with assassinations, and helping out Grandmother Potter with the Blacks if need be. This, in fact, brings us neatly to the current moment."
"Oh?"
"Yes. We are taking out all the Carrows."
Both men grimaced heavily at the mention of the family.
"It is a miracle that that family is still alive in spite of being more inbred than a colony of naked mole rats," muttered Charlus. It looked as if he was trying his utmost to fight off the nausea. "Dorea would know. They are her, I think third cousins twice removed or something like that, but they are all too close – if you catch my drift. Only Dorea's great-grandmother married outside the nearest available cousin."
Hadrian involuntarily exclaimed, "YUCK!" in disgust, horrified at the idea of even very remotely being related to those abominations.
Charlus nodded sympathetically. "A quick-tip, dear grandson," he added. "Never, ever make the mistake of mentioning that lot around any Black."
"I am going to bleach my brain, sir. You don't need to be worried about that."
"Just give me the way you do it if it succeeds, okay?"
The others just snorted.
The three returned to Hogwarts through the Room of Requirement just before dinner. They separated there. They didn't want to be a trio as they were during their years with Ron.
Since classes always were optional after the exams – particularly because the NEWTS and OWLs were always going on beyond the intra-school examinations, nobody availed themselves of the wealth of knowledge that the teachers had to share within the last few days. So the simple matter of three students not being seen during the day wouldn't cause the same stir as it would during term.
The teachers missing this fact did not necessarily mean that everyone else would miss it as well. Particularly within the House of Gryffindor, three boys had observed the absence keenly, as they were working up their courage for a confrontation. Even the Hands who came through within twenty minutes of each other and about half an hour before Remus, having planned the murders of the Carrows, didn't spot the impending conversation brewing among the other three till well after dinner.
James, Sirius and Peter were watching the three – and Remus in particular – with all the air of a pride of lions observing a herd of wild buffalos from the camouflage and shelter of the grass. They loitered around till Remus was done eating. Neither Jane nor Hadrian had remained behind, if only to further the 'not a trio' theme. The three boys then very discreetly followed Remus. It was an ingrained ability after all, was stealth. Just because their circumstances were different did not mean that they weren't pranksters. And they were very cautious pranksters. Getting caught was no fun at all.
They duly cornered Remus in the dormitory. The only good thing about it all was that Harry was there. He had caught the Marauders moving in on Remus, and so had followed him to the dorm.
"So, Remus," James started, shuffling his feet around as he looked around a bit shiftily.
"Yes?" Remus had inkling about what the discussion was going to be about. This confrontation on the twenty ninth of June, 1972 was starting exactly as it had done on the nineteenth of June 1973.
On one hand, he felt elated. Even though this confrontation had been pushed up by at least a year, it also led to some of the best times of his life. He wanted to dance a jig at the idea of the reformation of the Marauders.
On the other, he was crapping razor blades. The first year that the four boys had spent the first time around had been decorated with one prank after another. This time five boys had done the same. However, the friendship between them wasn't exactly as thick as it was the first time around, probably due to the presence of Harry. And it most certainly wasn't as thick as it was when the confrontation had taken place the first time around. On the whole, he was unsure as to what he was supposed to expect.
"Er...yes, well, Sirius, Peter and I have been thinking," James started again, casting about for words to speak things properly, when Peter glared and protested with an odd squeak ["Rat," thought Remus immediately]. "Well, Sirius and I have been thinking, anyway," James spoke again, beating about the bush.
"Perhaps if you get to the point, I will actually be convinced that either of you has been thinking at all," Remus mocked his once (and hopefully once more) best friend.
"Oh bugger," muttered James. He took a deep fortifying breath to gather all his courage before blurting out his piece very fast. "You are always ill around the full moon. You say that you have to perform a ritual. My mum knows many rituals and so does Sirius' grandfather. We found no such ritual as the one you told us. The only explanation is that you are a werewolf." Having exhausted his breath completely, he took another deep breath before asking more normally if curiously, "Are you a werewolf?"
Remus glanced at Hadrian, who promptly checked through the heads of the three marauders. It wasn't technically right to refer them that way yet, but that wasn't important at that moment. He had to get a profile on each of the three boys.
James was genuinely curious. He wanted to know what being a werewolf was like. He had read about werewolves in general, and it had not always been a glowing recommendation about the 'creature'. What he did know though, was that Remus was his friend. He wasn't like those descriptions of the werewolves he had read about. When he had first started suspecting that Remus was a werewolf, he had written to his father, asking about werewolves in general. He had replied with an explanation about what happened during the transformations. He had been unable to imagine the pain, and then he had looked at Remus Lupin and had felt genuine sympathy for the boy. Then he had felt respect for him and his resilience, given the way he was still working towards his education. He hoped to find a way to help Remus Lupin if he could. He passed the Legillimancer's test.
Sirius was awaiting the answer as well. At the point of time, Sirius in both timelines, had pitied himself quite a bit, and thought of himself as a bit of a rebel. It was a very odd combination for a self-image. At the moment, he was attempting to coalesce the images painted by his crude, coarse mother who had nonetheless given very vivid descriptions about werewolves with the boy who was his dorm-mate, and dare he say it, friend. Somehow, this boy looked too tame to be a werewolf. Then again, mother was insistent that werewolves were beasts that should be put down as soon as one saw them. When exactly had his mother been a person to agree with? If nothing else, he was going to be friends with Remus Lupin, werewolf or not, just to spite his mother. And if he was going to be a friend, then come what may, he bloody well was going to be the best friend possible. His motivation might have been terribly off, but Sirius passed the test as well – not that he knew it.
It was Peter though, that Hadrian was very interested to find out more about. Before he had been to the other place, he had been completely prepared to hate Peter. To him, Peter Pettigrew was the living embodiment of everything that was wrong with the world. Voldemort was the embodiment of evil, but Peter was the embodiment of all that was just wrong. His time in the other place though had told him something very different. Peter, foolish, bumbling Peter, was not really as bad as Hadrian wanted him to be, just so he could be easier to hate. Peter had hated his animagus form, but had rationalised it through his usefulness as far as pressing the knot on the Willow was concerned. He also liked being the one given the mission s that led to Hogsmeade. He was the one who brokered peace between the two mutts when Snape had been pulled back from Moony by James. All things said and done, Peter had been led astray, and he was very easy to be led astray.
At the moment, Peter was a bit afraid. He was afraid of werewolves in general. He was unsure whether or not he should be afraid of Remus. All the same, he was determined to put up a united front. The other two had decided to find out the facts and then support their friend anyway. He would not be found wanting. That was a sea change. Before, he would have only bothered to support Moony just so that he would be with the popular ones, his own motivations be damned. He too passed the test.
"And if I am?" asked Remus. There was a definite tremor in his voice. He was also trembling a bit. James, Sirius and Peter, as well as Hadrian recognised that.
James was silent for a moment, before he answered, "Then you are. It's not as if you are going to sprout fangs and fur and bite us and eat us, are you?"
Remus just stared at James, hard. Behind them, Peter whimpered.
"Oh, come on. You won't," declared Sirius. "You could have done that all year. So, I don't think you will eat us."
"Don't joke about it Sirius," James reprimanded his cousin eliciting a grumble from the Black boy as he muttered that he was only trying to support them both. Then turning to Remus he said seriously, "Look, even if you are, I bet Dumbledore knows. He won't let you transform around others. And werewolves don't transform on other days. Lily Evans and I researched it."
Both Remus and Hadrian blinked. James researched something. Lily Evans was that friendly with James. Bloody hell! Somewhere someone had found the way to destroy all the nuclear weapons and Voldemort was showing true remorse. Exactly how much of a change were they bringing about?
"Werewolves only have acute senses and superior strength when they aren't in their wolf form. So if you are, you are superhuman when human, and otherwise you have...you have just got a furry little problem!"
Remus' eyes started tearing up a bit at that. While admittedly, James hadn't 'researched' anything the last time around, those were the same words he had used to describe Remus' 'problem'. 'Furry little problem', indeed.
The three boys took the tears wrongly. In panic, Sirius slipped into the Padfoot persona that always comforted Moony as Hadrian Harry could remember. "Look Remy! You don't cry, okay! We really haven't got a problem! We just wanted to let you know that we're still your friends! That's all, I swear! I am serious!"
"Of course you are," butt in Hadrian. "You have always been Sirius."
The sudden interruption derailed a panicking Sirius.
Peter narrowed his eyes. "You have known all along, haven't you?"
Deciding that it was important to not refute it, Hadrian told a little white lie. "Yes. I suspected after the first two months," he said with a shrug. "Remus was being a very poor liar."
"Why didn't you tell us?" protested Peter.
"It's his secret to tell!" Hadrian retorted hotly. "I worked it out just as you three did. Even Jane knows. Considering that I was in the company of a werewolf before the 1st of September, it wasn't so difficult to notice."
Peter huffed in annoyance.
"Well, coming back to the matter at hand," James said, interrupted the bickering, "we promise you, Remus Lupin to never, ever tell this secret to anyone else."
"You are not afraid of me?" Remus asked weakly. It was now a complete act. He really didn't fear them rejecting him now.
"I spoke in English, didn't I? Of course we aren't going to be afraid of you."
"But I am a Dark Creature!"
"You are?"
"..."
"We don't think so, Remus. A dark creature was what you were turned into! Who bit you, by the way?"
Remus glared at James half-heartedly, who winced. It was a very insensitive question.
"What my eloquent cousin wants to say is that assuming that you weren't bitten on purpose, neither you nor that other person is a monster. Otherwise that other bloke is."
Well, they had seen it all. A serious Sirius, covering for a fumbling James. Would wonders ever cease?
"Thank you!" The fear may have been an act, but the gratefulness wasn't. It was expressed on several levels. For one, they hadn't rejected him, as a small nagging part feared. And secondly, he had got his best friends back. Every bloody thing was alright with the world!
"No need to thank us, mate," Sirius replied. "I mean, when you have got people like Bellatrix Black and my mother in the family – hell, if you hail from the Black family at all, Moony the werewolf looks like a tame little lost wolf pup." Remus couldn't hide the grin from his face as he regained his name. For when he had lived before - truly lived, that is - he had been Moony of the Marauders. That grin was wiped off by Sirius' next sentence though. "Honestly, Bella could kill a family member and laugh about it. She could just as well be my boggart."
It was with tremendous force of will that Remus and Hadrian controlled their flinching.
"Well, you should be glad that you have better cousins, Sirius," James reminded his friend.
"Of course!" responded Sirius theatrically. "Right you are, Jamie. I've got Darrene and Eldric, as well as Andromeda. Hmm. That's not bad for a Black," he mused.
"Er...not to break your thoughts or anything, but why Moony?" asked Peter timidly.
"Well, we have to call him something, don't we? There are several ways to give a werewolf a nickname. Somehow 'one of the founders of Rome' just doesn't cut it," Sirius replied testily.
"We could always call him Silver," James suggested slyly.
"Or if he is a grey wolf, we could call him a silverback."
"That's a gorilla, you idiot."
"How about Howly?"
Remus wrinkled his nose at that.
"No?"
"How about...?"
"I like Moony perfectly well, thank you," Remus declared.
Sirius laughed a gleeful burst of his usual barking laughter. "That's it. Moony it is!"
"That's not fair! We didn't even get to contribute!" the other three protested. Sirius flipped them the bird.
"There is still a matter left to be addressed. I understand why Hadrian Jameson refused to divulge the secret. Now that we are in on the secret, we must ask, is there anything you have been doing that we can do to help?" asked James.
Hadrian nodded. "Moony is the ghost in the Shrieking Shack. You must have heard about it. He goes to the shack on full moon nights through the Whomping Willow. I have been covering his absences. Then Jane and I visit him the next day in the Dragon Lady's stronghold."
"Balls of steel, you have, if you willingly go there when not ill," muttered Peter.
Hadrian shrugged. "Moony's my friend. I've precious few of those, you lot for friends." The last sentence was added with a powerful compulsion charm. "And Jane doesn't, and shouldn't have balls!"
This led to a bout of suggestions regarding what they could do to help. The suggestions grew more and more outrageous, including a few to help Jane grow balls. Those were promptly slapped down. James and Sirius were at the loggerheads over hunting a centaur and catching a hippogriff for Moony to a shrill whistle to break the squabble threatening to break out, Hadrian drew their attention to himself. "You know that we shouldn't keep things this serious, don't you?"
"Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?" asked James.
"Are you thinking that I am suggesting what you think I am suggesting?" countered the time displaced incarnation of his son.
"Yes."
"Yes."
"We need a school wide prank."
"A grand one to celebrate Moony and the ending of the school year."
"One that will have McGonagall wanting to put us all in detention forever if we get caught."
"That's a deal."
And so insane family members and painful werewolf transformations were forgotten, just like that, as a new way to torment Hogwarts was hatched by the five first year boys. However, there was an important matter to be handled first.
"Sirius Black acknowledges the adage Hadrian Jamesson has used regarding friends, and wholly supports accepting it as the motto for us five."
"James Potter concurs, and asks Mr. Moony and Peter Pettigrew for their views on the matter."
With a gargantuan effort, Moony resisted calling James Mr. Prongs as he replied, "Mr. Moony agrees, though he respectfully submits that talking about oneself in third person is a bit poncy."
"Peter Pettigrew agrees on both accounts, and suggests we give ourselves a collective name."
"Hadrian Jameson thinks Peter Pettigrew is on the right track, and suggests something that works well with our predilection towards pranks."
"The Pirates?" suggested Sirius, only to receive haughty sniffs from the other four.
"The Havoc of Hogwarts," suggested Peter.
"Peter Pettigrew's suggestion has definite possibilities due to the alliteration, but is too long," James pointed out.
"Mr. Moony suggests the Marauders."
A small bout of silence engulfed them, before James and Sirius declared in unison, "Perfect!"
Poppy Pomfrey was busy for the following week as a seemingly contagious disease took over Hogwarts. Even the slightest skin-to-skin contact got people breaking into neon pink polka dots on neon green skin. If someone touched the other person's skin, they would be cured temporarily – till the next time they entered the Great Hall, that is. She had to spend her time curing broken appendages as people fell off stairs during the impromptu games of tag that the whole school, including teachers seemed to be playing to get rid of the hideous colouration marking their skins. She had never been that irritated.
