Chaos and Choosing Courses
"Peter, and Remus, be sure to pay extra careful attention in Transfiguration," instructed second-year James Potter through a mouthful of kipper at breakfast on the last early April day before Easter vacation commenced.
"I always am attentive in every class," Remus educated him somewhat stiffly between nibbles of bacon.
"Yeah, it's you who has drawings of Evans and her initials entwined with yours all over your notes," snickered Sirius, as he devoured his bowl of porridge with all the enthusiasm of a ravenous canine.
"At least I have notes, even if they are disorganized, and incomplete," James retorted, trying to conceal his flush as he sipped his pumpkin juice, referring to the fact that his best mate was renowned for not even bothering to show up for lessons with a quill and roll of parchment, because he contended that if a piece of data was truly relevant, he would recall it without having to scribble it down, and if it wasn't important, then there was no reason to record it in the first place.
Before Sirius could answer, however, Peter, biting his fingernails in one of his characteristic nervous habits, cut in, "I can't take notes, either. Every time I go to Transfiguraiton, I want to, but before I know it, I am all confused, but I'm petrified of asking McGonagall for help, since she's so intimidating. So, once I'm bewildered, I lose interest, and I start staring out the window, instead. Then, she always catches me, and suggests that my bad grades would improve if I paid attention, but I just can't, because she's so confusing, which means it's her fault."
"It's not her fault," Sirius snorted. "She wasn't the one who gave you a brain first when they were passing them out alphabetically, which is why you've got an aardvark brain, and, therefore, can't learn like the rest of us."
Peter blushed, and Remus took pity upon him. "Why should we be extra alert in Transfiguration?" he inquired, attempting to distract Sirius from taunting the other lad.
"Oh, just reflect on Sirius and my last detention," shrugged James, "and that will provide you with a hint."
"That's the first and final tip you're receiving, too, because we want it to be a surprise," Sirius declared.
"Yep, we want it to be an Easter surprise for everybody." James nodded.
"It will be a better surprise than finding your Easter basket."
"And discovering fine homemade chocolates inside," finished James, completing his best friend's though as effortlessly as always.
"It's not much of a hint," Remus remarked, shaking his head, since he was, as he often was, in the presence of Sirius and James, the greatest pranksters Hogwarts had ever been invaded by in its thousand year history, split between amusement and exasperation. "I don't remember what you were assigned to last time you received detention, as you two scarcely go a day without being placed in another detention by some teacher or other."
"Then, you have even less of an excuse to forget what Sirius and I endured in our latest detention, if it took place so recently. Jeez, don't blame us for your short-term memory," responded James. The last word had barely sailed out of his mouth when the bell tolled, signaling that they had best swallow their final bites of breakfast, and hasten off to first period Transfiguration.
"Forget some of the twelve uses of dragon blood and hogwash like that, and you'll have more room for important statistics on your buddies," added Sirius. While he asserted as much, the four boys threw down their silverware, swung their bookbags over their shoulders, scraped back their benches as they rose, and trailed en masse like everyone else out of the Great Hall.
Within minutes, they had arrived inside the Transfiguration classroom. Having gleaned enough from his exchange with his two rebellious pals to perceive that they were preparing some exceptional practical joke, and not desiring Professor McGonagall to assume that he was enmeshed in the perpetration of the crime James and Sirius would in all likelihood be committing in the immediate future, he elected to seat himself beside a Ravenclaw named Sean McKinnion.
Sean's best mate, Conan Dooley, was out with dragon spots, which was a highly contagious resurgence in the form of a rash of the dragon pox that plagued those who had been stricken with mild cases of dragon pox that could arise at any timem as it was always present in the person's body once they had it, and so Sean was sitting alone.
"How is Conan faring?" Remus asked politely, as he slipped into the chair to the left of Sean.
"He claims that he doesn't feel ill most of the time, and that he'd love to be able to attend classes again," Sean updated him. "You see, he's bored up there in the hospital wing all day, and he is convinced that he is missing crucial stuff, although I'm letting him copy my notes, and telling him all our assignments, so he can complete them. Well, I'm certain that he'll be able to recover during break, and he'll return ready to work with the rest of us."
"I hope that he can rejoin classes soon," said Remus with more sincerity than most of peers would have displayed in this situation, because he recalled quite vividly what it was like laying on a lumpy cot in the hospital wing, recovering from his self-inflicted werewolf scratches and bites, explaining to the Marauders that he was afflicted with a rare ailment called spattergroit that could reappear in him randomly, but was not contagious, and borrowing notes from Marlene, who also was considerate enough to update him on the homework assignments he had missed for days on end.
He knew all about the gloomy listlessness that set in around mid-day, when everybody was attending lessons you wanted to go to, as well, and all you could do was lie there, staring at the ceiling, because you'd already finished your essays, and read all the books you had with you. Spending time alone in the sick ward was depressing. It reminded you that you were destined to die, and doomed to endure eternity alone in the silent darkness of the grave.
Fortunately, such morbid musings were removed from the forefront of his brain by the arrival of Professor McGonagall, who strode brusquely to the front of the classroom through the rows of double desks. By the time she had reached the area before the blackboard, and had pivoted to face them, her pupils had chopped off all their side-conversations, and riveted their attention upon her, instead, because they didn't wish to be put in detention, or receive lines on the last day before holiday.
Since all was quiet, Professor McGonagall immediately began lecturing the class upon elementary Switching Spells. After having everybody, except Sirius and Peter, copy down notes on the topic that she dictated, and wrote in a precise cursive on the blackboard, she directed them all to take out their Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, so that they could discuss the diagram on pages 587 and 588.
However, she had only just finished describing the process illustrated in the first segment of the diagram, when she noticed that somebody wasn't following along in his text, and she barked, "Potter, where is your textbook?"
"It's in my satchel, Professor," James informed her flippantly, not reaching into his bookbag to fetch it, as Remus would have done if he had ever been caught in such a circumstance.
"Then, why isn't it on your desk, where it belongs while we're reading out of it?" snapped Professor McGonagall.
"It's in my bag, because my mate Sirius has out his copy, and I can read his just fine from here." Beaming pertly, the second-year Gryffindor who had played Seeker fro the Gryffindor Quidditch team since that October, and had been instrumental in Gryffindor's victory over Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in the November and March matches, pointed at his keen hazel eyes. "My Seeker vision permits me to accomplish feats impossible for most mortals couldn't hope to achieve, including seeing objects that are a great distance from me quite clearly."
"Well, if you don't wish to see ten points deducted from your next quiz, you'll remove your textbook from you satchel this instant, and put it on your desk, where it is currently supposed to be located," McGonagall warned frostily.
"You want me to take my book out of my bag, Professor?" echoed James in a tone that was too innocent to indicate anything but trouble in the very near future.
"Yes, Potter, and, for future reference, when I order the class as a while to do anything, I expect you, as a part of the aforementioned entity, to comply with my command without receiving your own personal invitation," growled Professor McGonagall, her eyes flashing beneath her spectacles. "Understood?"
"Sure, Professor. I'll take out my textbook right now." As he established as much, James bent over, zipped open the front pocket of his bookbag, and, unbelievably, three Cornish pixies shot out of it.
The second the three eight inch high electric blue creatures were released from the confines of James' satchel, they soared into the air, contorting their faces grotesquely at those closest to them, and screaming in shrill voices that caused all the hairs on Remus' body to stand erect in protest. Then, pandemonium ensured when the three pixies rocketed off in different directions.
One sped right through a side window, showering the row beside it in shards of glass, while the other two proceeded to wreck the classroom more thoroughly than an invading army. They snatched up ink bottles, and sparked them at pupils like Muggle gardening hoses. Owing to this, Remus and Sean McKinnion acquired a couple of sticky, black freckles that they hadn't possessed a moment ago, although, luckily, they could wipe these off with the cuffs of their robes fairly quickly.
The pixies also shredded textbooks, though Remus managed to stow his in his satchel before it could be destroyed, thank Merlin. Papers were also torn by the pixies, and the wastepaper basket was upended by the monsters, before Professor McGonagall finally revered from her shock, and Stunned both of them.
"Miss Prescott!" McGonagall shouted after she Conjured a cage to encase each of the unconscious pixies.
"Yes, Professor," responded Debra Prescott, a bashful, slightly overweight Ravenclaw, whose naturally pink cheeks were now more crimson than raspberries. Her forehead was creased with bemused lines, since she obviously did not comprehend how the Transfiguration instructor could believe that she was responsible for this prank when everyone had seen James release the pixies.
"Please take these to Professor Kettleburn." McGonagall's manner rendered the "please" a superfluous matter of formality, as she shoved the two cages into the adolescent's hands. "He'll know how to handle them properly."
"Of course, Professor, but, um―" Debra broke off helplessly, eyeing the captive pixies with wide cinnamon-colored eyes.
"If you have a question, Miss Prescott, ask it straight out, instead of hemming and hawing at me like an idiot," sighed Professor McGonagall.
"Very well." Debra nodded obediently. Speaking more clearly, she nodded at the pixies, and continued, "I was merely wondering if they would awaken on me, Professor."
"No, they'll be out cold for the next two hours, so, unless you dawdle for a tremendous amount of time in this task, they won't bother you," Professor McGonagall educated her, and, satisfied, the girl fled the room, plainly in a rush to complete this chore, even if she did have two hours left before the pixies regained consciousness.
Once Debra had departed, McGonagall marched over to James, her eyes snapping, her nostrils flaring, and her lips thinner than Remus had ever witnessed them. "Potter where on earth did you get these pixies?" she demanded.
"Hagrid gave them to me and Sirius as a gift last time we had detention with him," mumbled James. It seemed that even he was abashed by her wrath, because he must not have encountered her when she was this irate before.
"He gave them to you?" repeated Professor McGonagall, her eyes contracting menacingly.
"Yeah, but he didn't know what we were planning, Professor―he really just thought we wanted them as pets―" James faltered, anxious about landing Hogwarts gamekeeper in a dragon's lair accidently.
"Students are not permitted to have pixies for pets, Potter, and I'm certain that comes as a surprise to you and Hagrid," observed McGonagall dryly, although her features had softened a tad, as though she regarded James' display of concern for the gamekeeper touching somehow. However, she rapidly regained her typical severe and acerbic attitude when Debra Prescott slipped back into classroom, this time not bearing the pixie bages, and she went on in a tone that was harder than granite, "Potter, you and your accomplice Black―"
"Me?" Sirius expanded his eyes like a baby's in mock astonishment.
"Yes, you," snapped McGonagall, her voice frigid. "It's futile to feign innocence when your buddy Potter has already implicated you, and, besides, I'm aware that you and Potter always perpetrate your crimes together. Now, both of you have two weeks of detention with Filch, a hundred lines of 'I'll never release pixies or any other magical creature in class again,' a four thousand word essay on how to appropriately care for pixies, and you and your families will be responsible for replacing all the items wrecked by the devils you set loose in my class."
Taking advantage of the stupefication that washed over James and Sirius when such a harsh sentence was passed upon them, she gestured at the door, and concluded, "You will both see Professor Dumbledore at once, and explain to him what you have done. Perhaps, he will expel you this time, but I hardly dare to rise my hopes only to have them dashed again."
As James and Sirius reluctantly packed up their bags, and left the room, Professor McGonagall resumed her lecture on Switching Spells, no longer using the diagram to demonstrate her points, because so many pupils had lost their texts to the pixies. However, they didn't have that much time remaining in the period, so she was unable to cover as much material as she had planned, which meant that they received twice as much work over break as they otherwise would have done, an occurrence that she was adamant about blaming on James and Sirius.
When the bell that dismissed them rang, Professor McGonagall snatched a stack of forms off her desk, and strode over to the door while everyone packed up, and headed toward to exit in a rabid lurch. As they hurried out, eager to finish their last day before their spring vacation started, she handed them each a paper to fill out over their holiday.
At first, Remus assumed that it was another sheet of homework for them to complete, but when he accepted the form she proffered to him, he saw that it pertained to selecting courses for next year, according to the bolded title on the opt. He was unable to read further at the moment, though, because McGonagall thrust two more papers into his hands with a, "Kindly give these to your renegade companions, Black and Potter, and instruct them to fill them out, and send them to me over break."
"I'll do just that, Professor," he had enough time to promise, before the surge of beings intent upon leaving the classroom as quickly as possible pushed him out of the room, and he set off for second period Charms in the company of Marlene, who had been waiting outside in the corridor with her friends Mary and Sharon.
The four of them had barely traveled a couple of paces, however, when Sean McKinnion's voice hollered through the teeming hallway, "Marlene! Marlene Hayes, hold up a minute, would you?"
Looking puzzled, Marlene stepped out of the hordes of teenagers, and leaned back against the stone wall. Her three comrades fell back to join her, as Sean dashed up to them. When he reached them, his cheeks were cherries, and he was panting from his exertions.
"Can I help you?" Marlene asked, while Sean inhaled enormous amounts of oxygen, while at the same time exhaling massive bursts of carbon dioxide.
"Uh, that was a pretty cool lesson, wasn't it?" gasped Sean, still struggling to catch his breath.
"Well, the lesson itself wasn't so interesting, but Black and Potter's prank was quite entertaining, so, yeah, I reckon it was," replied Marlene, whose brow was furrowed, because she didn't understand why this boy she was hardly acquainted with was suddenly striking up a random conversation with her. At her words, Remus shot her a reproachful look, since the prank James and Sirius had pulled had been anything but amusing. They had gone past the realm of comical and into the kingdom of entirely inexcusable. After all, they had ruined personal property, broken a school window, and covered many students' robes with ink stains that likely would never be removed, even though, at least, the school uniform was black, so the stains wouldn't be too noticeable. Still, such behavior wasn't funny, and shouldn't be encouraged, even if James and Sirius weren't present to derive pleasure from Marlene's remark. Ignoring his reproving glance, she inquired of Sean, "How is your friend Conan doing, anyway?"
"He'll be able to rejoin classes after holiday, I believe," Sean answered, running his hands fretfully through his pale blonde mop of hair. Here, he paused for a few seconds, gathering the truculence necessary to plunge on in a rush, "Hey, Marlene, would you go into Diagon Alley with me sometime over Easter break?"
"As a date, I presume?" Marlene arched her eyebrows inquisitively at Sean, while Remus stifled the urge to strange the other boy. Nobody else was allowed to date her if he couldn't. It was only fair. After all, if he couldn't have her, why should anyone else be permitted to possess her? She was his, because he had known her the longest, and, therefore, loved her the best. It was that simple, and anyone who infringed on his right to her was scum. It was as uncomplicated as that.
"Right, as a date, exactly," confirmed Sean, his face a gigantic, ripe tomato, something that tempted Remus to launch the aforesaid fruit at the other lad. Fortunately, however, he did not have one handy, nor had he mastered enough magic to Conjure one, so he did not yield to this barbaric impulse. Instead, he settled for clenching his hands into fists behind his back, mentally imploring Marlene to refuse Sean, and kick him in between the legs where it would really hurt as retribution for even having the temerity to ask her out.
Yet, the telepathic bond between Marlene and Remus must have been malfunctioning, for she giggled, and told Sean, "I thought you'd never ask, and I would have to be the one to scrounge up the courage to ask you out, but you've finally done it, thank God. Of course I'll go out with you. How could I refuse someone as handsome as you? Now, I'm free Wednesday afternoon from twelve to two."
"Wonderful." Relief shone all over Sean's face, which Remus longed to punch with his balled fists. "I'll―I'll meet you outside the Leaky Cauldron at a quarter past twelve, then, and I'll take you out to lunch and ice cream at Florean Fortescue's afterwards, shall I? After that, we can visit Quality Quidditch Supplies, and look at that new broomstick they just came out with, because I know that you love Quidditch― that's why you're a Chaser on the Gryffindor team."
"That's a great idea," Marlene enthused, grinning from ear to ear, as Remus swallowed the bile that rose inside his throat at her behavior. What in the name of all that was holy was she doing? This wasn't the girl he knew and loved. This was some pinheaded, giggling flirt, dithering over a male that was unworthy of her splendor, and it was intolerable. If Sean turned her into such a despicable creature, Sean would have to die. It was as easy an equation as that. "Then, we can go into Flourish and Botts, too, if you want, because I know how much you adore books, and I want you to have fun, as well."
"I'm sure I will, if I'm spending the afternoon with you," Sean reassured her, and ran off before Remus could whack him, to Remus' intense disappointment.
"If we're late to Charms because of your new imbecilic boyfriend, I shall Crucio him to death, and make you watch," Remus threatened Marlene, as he, the addressed, Mary, and Sharon all resumed their trip to the Charms classroom.
"You could have gone on ahead if you care so much about being tardy," she retorted. "Anyway, what are you so stressed out about? If we're late, all Flitwick will do is squeak out that we are, and tell us to sit down at once, and copy the notes we missed from someone. Big flipping deal."
Paying no mind to her accurate analysis of what would happen if they were tardy to Professor Flitwick's lesson, Remus countered, "I had to be there, so that I could wallop him in the face if he tried to kiss you or something. Somebody has got to protect you, if you're not going to do it for yourself."
"Did it ever enter your mind that I don't require protection?" hissed Marlene, her eyes searing him, as Mary and Sharon fell back a few steps to offer the other two adolescents some privacy, because this exchange was rapidly turning awkward. Remus barely had the time required to spare them a grateful thought, because Marlene went on, "Have you considered that perhaps I have Sean right where I want him, huh?"
"Oh, do you?" Remus raised his eyebrows at her, not caring at the moment if his words constituted a low blow. "Because, from my perspective, it seemed more like he had you where he wanted you― wrapped around his dirty little finger."
"Maybe you only saw that because a bat is less blind than you are," she fired back.
"So what was I supposed to see, then?" he demanded in a withering tone.
"That I only said yes to make James jealous," Marlene admitted, heat rising on her face for the first time.
"Oh, Lord, just give up on James already, Marlene." Remus rolled his eyes in exasperation. "James is obsessed with Lily Evans. He could care less about everyone else. It's Sirius that has got the wandering eyes. Flirt with Sirius if you want to date a Marauder, and I'm not good enough for you."
"I won't give up on James." Obstinately, Marlene shook her head in negation. "After all, James does have a thing for redheads, doesn't he, and I have red hair." Here, she twirled a strand of her auburn curls around her finger, as though she could wrap the boy she spoke of around her finger as effortlessly as she had spun her hair, Remus, and Sean around it. "Therefore, he might ask me out sometime in order to inspire envy in Lily, and then, I've got him ensnared. Once he starts dating me, he'll never be able to stop, because he'll become addicted to me. QED."
"That's a brilliant scheme to rival anything Julius Caesar devised, I assure you," commented Remus wryly, as they turned down the Charms corridor at last, to his relief, because they still had one minute to get to class, which meant they would be on time despite the stupid Sean delay. "The only minor flaw in it is that James won't ask you out, if you're dating Sean."
"Oh, yes, he will." Marlene offered him a crafty, inveigling smirk that he had never witnessed her employing before, and his stomach churned in response, because this seductive female wasn't the girl he had known since they were seven. "You see, Remus, guys talk about girls, and the― experiences― they have with them, and if they hear good things, they might decide to have a good time, as well."
"You can't mean that you're going to let Sean do― things― with you?" stammered an appalled Remus, cracking his white knuckles at the image of Sean kissing and touching Marlene all over her beautiful body. A body that no male save Remus was fit to make physical contact with.
"That remains to be seen," she shrugged, and he was denied the opportunity to voice his revulsion when they entered Professor Flitwick's class, and sat down, because the tiny, effeminate Charms master, who, as always, was perched on a pile of books as high as Mount Everest so that he could see over his desk, was already squeaking for silence, and Remus did not have the heart to ignore him.
That evening at dinner, when Remus handed James and Sirius, who had only received a lecture form Dumbledore in addition to the punishments McGonagall had heaped upon them, their class sign-up forms, James chuckled, "I'd forgotten that Mum and Dad told me that we get to choose our classes for next year."
"Do we have to pick any new courses?" asked Peter nervously through a mouthful of steak and kidney pie. "I'm not sure I can manage another class, after all, since I'm only just scraping passes in all of my subjects. With more, I'll be failing before you know it―"
"I'm sorry, Peter, but, yes, you have to pick at least one new class from the listed options," Remus educated him, pointing at the line that made this declaration on his own paper. "However, if you go to Professor McGonagall after supper, perhaps you'll be able to convince her to make an exception for you. After all, if you explain to her that you fear you'll be in jeopardy of failing if you add more courses to your workload, I'm positive that she'll find a solution. She's a clever witch."
"I'm not going to see her." Peter shuddered. "She hates me, because she thinks I'm dumb, and she'd just snap at me to read the form and follow it."
"Well, if you won't do as he suggests, stop complaining, because you're giving me a migraine," snorted Sirius, and Peter snapped his mouth shut at once.
"So, do you reckon we're allowed to drop our old classes?" James wondered aloud.
"Nope," Remus responded to this inquiry, also. "According to the form, you have to keep all your original classes."
"Damn," cursed James. "I was going to drop Transfiguration."
"Why?" Remus frowned. "Transfiguration is your best subject." It was, too, since James really did have a talent in that class that surpassed the considerable skills he displayed in practical magic in all other fields. Privately, Remus figured that McGonagall's irascibility with James Potter might originate in her despair at the fact that she couldn't reach such a bright pupil so much of the time.
"Maybe," scowled James, "but I hate the teacher. Mum's going to cry about what I've done, and Dad's going to be so disappointed in me. I can't stand it when I upset them."
"That's something that I don't have in common with you, mate," Sirius noted. "I love distressing my parents."
"You only feel that way because you have no love for them, since they never gave you enough love." James dropped his fork, which he was utilizing to shovel large doses of steak and kidney pie to his mouth, briefly, so that he could mess up the other lad's hair, despite his curses and protests, and then dug back into his meal with gusto. "If you come to live with me for awhile, you'll see why I care if I upset my parents, because they'll treat you like a second son, I promise, and you know how they dote on me."
"I'll remember to move in with you, then, when Mum and Dad finally lose any semblance of patience with me, and disown me," chortled Sirius.
The next evening, when Remus sat down for dinner at his home with his mother and father, who had picked him up at King's Cross an hour previously, picking classes was also the discussion topic. After he explained how he was required to select what subjects he wanted to study in his fourth and fifth years, Remus asked his parents, "What lessons do you think I should sign up for?"
"That's up to you, dear," his mum informed him between bites of her roll.
"But, Mum, all the courses open to us sound so interesting, and I don't know how to choose," Remus confessed.
"You don't have to choose between them if you don't want to," his dad remarked.
"I don't?" Remus stared at the man in astonishment at this statement.
"No, you don't," repeated Mr. Lupin. "You can take all twelve subjects, if you wish, just like I did."
"How?" Remus could feel his forehead knitting in consternation. "There isn't enough time to fit all those classes in a Hogwarts schedule!"
"They'll provide you with a time turner," Mr. Lupin explained.
"That won't work for me." As his excitement waned abruptly, flowing out of him like helium seeping out of a hot air balloon, Remus shook his head. "I'm afraid that if I had a time turner, I would use it inappropriately, to go back to before I was bitten by a werewolf or something, and that's perilous and illegal. I'll just have to pick two new classes like everyone else. So, what ones did you like best?"
"Arithmancy and Ancient Runes," responded his father immediately. "They were very intellectually challenging, and really expanded my cognitive abilities, but Muggle Studies was intriguing― it is somewhat fascinating to learn about Muggle culture, after. I didn't much care for Care of Magical Creatures, and I dropped it in my sixth year, once OWLs were done."
"I liked Care of Magical Creatures, though," said Mrs. Lupin. "I still remember when Professor Kettleburn brought those unicorns to class."
"And they wouldn't come near any of the males," added her husband, smiling slightly at the memory.
"They wouldn't, indeed," Mrs. Lupin laughed. "Well, I enjoyed Arithmancy like your father did, as well, even though I was never very skilled at it. Numbers don't come naturally to me, unfortunately."
Remus considered his parents' words for awhile, and then decided, "I'll enroll in Artihmancy and Ancient Runes, then. Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures are for people like James and Sirius who like to bring pixies to Transfiguration lessons."
Author's Note: By the way, I know that JKR said in an interview that James played Chaser, but she didn't say that was the only position he ever played, and we know that some people play multiple postions, so I thought it was possible that he may have played Seeker before being a Chaser, especially because he was toying with a Snitch in Book Five in Snape's memory. (And he was good at catching it.)
Yes, I borrowed the pixie idea from Book 2, but I hope you like it, anyhow.