My apologies for the wait again. I promise I was actually busy, not just too lazy to write the chapter. I turned sixteen a few days ago though so as a birthday present you can forgive my horrible tardiness with this chapter.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last one:
Giddy Girl: Don't worry about criticism; I appreciate it. I'd rather know what's wrong with this story than not. And I'd love to hear your guess about Regulus.
To the guest who left such comprehensive and wonderful reviews: You'll find I'm getting to the rise of Voldemort now. The Gryffindors probably wouldn't know as much about it early on, considering Slytherin as Voldemort's old House was the most affected by the early politics. I don't think Salazar Slytherin was so much a racist as simply practical, considering the time period they were living in. Blood supremacy during the war, however, is very prevalent in Slytherin. It's hard to explore the reasons and politics of it all from Gryffindor perspectives. As for Regulus-he definitely is taken in by Voldemort at first, and he gradually becomes disillusioned and eventually turns against the Death Eaters' cause. Regulus is naturally curious, and yes, he puts his family library to very good use. He reads everything he can get his hands on, which is how he knows things even Dumbledore doesn't. But to put the clues together, considering Voldemort is not an idiot and the secret of his horcruxes remained impressively secret, he'd have to be fairly resourceful and intelligent. The concept of horcruxes was probably so arcane that you'd have to be looking for it to find it, which is why I think only Dumbledore and Regulus stumbled upon it throughout the war.
I think Mad-Eye lost his eye early on in the war, because I remember reading somewhere that when the Order first assembled his eye was already missing? As for the Marauders, they must have gotten caught a lot more before they learned the castle well and made the Map, and they're stated to have received a fair bit of detention, so perhaps not always, but up to now I think they frequently did get caught.
Around now, politics in Slytherin House is very strained. There's a lot of dissension within the House, and though they try to stand unified, the war is already beginning to break them apart. Slytherin is the first place Voldemort looked for young followers, so sooner or later they'll have to pick a side. Staying neutral isn't easy for them, and is especially not an option for Regulus. Besides, he doesn't want to stay neutral early on-he wants to show his family he's loyal, whatever Sirius may be. And most purebloods like the Blacks tossed the word "mudblood" around so easily, I don't think they think about the political implications when they use it. It's just part of their vocabulary-something that may begin to change. And of course all the Houses explaining themselves will be hyped to them; everyone believes his or her House is the best because it's their nature. Slytherin definitely doesn't have all the talent, but it's an environment that would cultivate any talent it did get. People like Crabbe and Goyle (made to appear far more stupid in the movies than in the books) are somewhat admirable in the sense that they knew couldn't compete on their own, so they banded to someone with both intelligence and power: Draco Malfoy. This takes cunning, so they must have been at least a little competent if not particularly smart or magically skilled.
Up to this point, most of the interaction the Gryffindors have outside of their own House is with the Slytherins, so they've been featured the most. Now that it's becoming more than a school rivalry, the other Houses will be mentioned more. And I'll say this, you're hitting the mark quite a bit with some of your conjectures. I won't specify which :). About Regulus's death, Sirius did make assumptions. He didn't know his brother very well, especially since they hadn't spoken in years by his death, so his dismissal about Regulus getting in too deep, defecting, and getting killed in the process-it's a bit unfair and doesn't quite do justice to Regulus's last act. The thing about Regulus is that his natural curiosity would have compelled him to explore the Muggle aspects of art and literature, which are pretty incredible. Afterall, Slytherin has its share of halfbloods and muggleborns who would know of this world. He would have wanted to keep himself separate, I think, and would never have actually wanted to be of Muggle origin, but wouldn't have seen the harm in learning about the world. Knowledge is power, after all. Why deny himself that?
All that said, I'd just like to thank you once again for your thoughts, which were very in-depth and which I tried to keep in mind while writing. If you've made it this far, I'm sorry for the great block of text up there, and I'll let you get on to the actual chapter now. Hopefully I've shed light on some things.
Review!
Disclaimer: this world and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
Remus couldn't remember the last time life had been this good. Spirits were up around the castle because the Quidditch season had gone well thus far for both Slytherin and Gryffindor and neither Ravenclaw nor Hufflepuff had really expected to win the Cup after the past several years, when the talent on the other House teams had reached a peak.
But the Marauders had a different reason to be celebrating—the past few full moons had forged a bond between the four of them that would be incomprehensible to an outsider. There was something unspeakable about the fact that James, Sirius, and Peter had not only accepted his condition, which Remus had considered a miracle in itself several months ago, but that they had also risked their lives to undertake one of the most challenging and dangerous achievements in wizarding history to ease it.
It gave one a sense of ineffable self-certainty that there were people in the world who loved one enough to go to such great lengths for, and it showed in Remus's attitude. The paleness and slight air of frailty that had plagued him nearly all his life had disappeared, and his naturally beautiful features were prominent in their wake. Much like the other boys, he shone with vitality and good humour. He stood straighter, a fact even more noticeable because within the last year he had experienced an extreme growth spurt and now looked down on even Sirius, previously the tallest of the four.
And people noticed. Madam Pomfrey noticed. Professor McGonagall noticed. Most of the Hogwarts student population noticed. Peter noticed. Oddly, James and Sirius hadn't seemed to have noticed yet. Less strangely, Remus himself did not notice. Certainly, everyone suddenly seemed shorter, but why did those third year Gryffindor girls keep trying to slip something into his drink at lunch?
In a room full of mentally exhausted Charms O.W.L. preparers, the Marauders' well-being was particularly evident. As Remus began a fresh sheet of his meticulous notes, James nudged him in the side. "Oi, Moony," he whispered under his breath.
Remus's quill stilled as he glanced sideways at his friend, one eyebrow arched. "Tonight—" But he never got to finish his sentence, because Professor Flitwick had begun listing a set of spells for a paper they were to write.
As Flitwick finished his list, class ended, and there was nearly a stampede as students rushed to make full use of their break in starting on their homework. As Sirius and Peter joined them, Elliot Blake caught James's arm, his eyes rimmed with red and his hair mussed to rival James's.
"You look like hell," James said in surprise. "What's going on?"
Elliot ran a hand through his hair. "Trust me, you'll come halfway to understanding in a month or two. Listen, the upcoming game against Slytherin is our last, and it's later than usual thanks to that rescheduled match. I'm calling all our Chasers to practice tonight, and it'll probably last into the morning hours. Be there."
James froze. "Tonight? Elliot, I can't—"
"No exceptions, Potter," Elliot snapped. "Look, it's N.E.W.T.s year for me and this practice is vital. Slytherin's going to crush us unless we figure something out, and I've come up with something but I need you there tonight. I can't negotiate with timing."
"I can't make it!" James protested.
Elliot gave him a frustrated look. "I don't have time to argue, James! I know how important Quidditch is to you. Even if you have to skip whatever detention you've landed yourself in and risk getting another, I need you to be there."
James glanced behind Elliot to where the others were waiting for him. Making a shooing motion with his hand, he told Elliot, "Look, I've said I can't, all right? If you want, Marlene can work with me at a later date without you."
"It's not going to work like that!" Elliot exclaimed, looking highly stressed out. James stared at him in shock—Eliot had always been one of the most easygoing people he knew. Clearly N.E.W.T.s had the power to affect even the mildest-mannered of people.
Elliot pinched his brow, closing his eyes before glancing at James again. "Look. Is whatever you have tonight really more important than Quidditch."
James glanced outside, thinking of the full moon. Then he clenched his jaw. "Yes," he said firmly.
Elliot drew back in surprise. "Fine," he said. "But I'm warning you, James, the team doesn't revolve around you. We have reserves for a reason, and if you aren't here tonight, you won't play next weekend."
James's jaw dropped. "What?" he demanded, staring at Elliot. He couldn't believe he was receiving an ultimatum about this. Was Elliot mental? Since when had he been this type of Captain? Without another word, Elliot turned and walked away, leaving James gaping after him.
Finally, he shoved a hand through his hair, ruffling it and turning to follow Sirius, Remus, and Peter back to the common room. To his surprise, he found Evans staring at him with disapproval. "I would have thought at least Quidditch you took seriously," she said. "How can you keep asking me to go out with you when you don't have any commitment?"
James stared at her blankly for a moment before pushing past her without saying a word. When he returned to the common room, Remus, Sirius, and Peter were sitting in front of the fire with their homework.
"What did Elliot want?" Remus asked curiously.
James shook his head, smiling easily. "It was nothing. Could I see the list you copied down of the Charms assignment? I dozed off at the end."
Giving him a curious look, Remus passed over his list, and James dropped into a seat. "Thanks."
"What were you going to say earlier about tonight?" Remus wondered.
"Sirius had an idea last month," James said, leaning forward. "And I told him it was utterly stupid, but after a lot of thought, I think it's brilliant."
Remus looked at Sirius warily. "Listen, we're all perfectly lucid during the night, aren't we?" Sirius asked, lowering his voice. "We're as sound of mind as usual then. And it's rather stuffy in there—not nearly enough space to properly run around."
Remus took a look at their faces before saying flatly, "No."
James opened his mouth, but Remus cut him off. "No. Absolutely not," he reiterated sharply. "You were right—it's your decision to put yourselves in danger. But other people?"
Sirius opened his mouth again, but Remus didn't let him speak either. "Don't you understand? Greyback destroyed my life that day in a way that can't ever be erased. And it is my greatest fear that I will someday do the same to somebody else. I've never actually asked you to do something for me, have I? I'm asking you for this—please, please don't put me in a position like that. I can't do it."
James's expression immediately turned serious. He hardly ever wore the expression, but it turned his typically mischievous hazel eyes intent in a way that belied how easily James could take on the responsibility of leadership.
"I swear, Remus," he promised. "I'll never force you into a position where you might endanger someone. Never."
Remus knew James very well. James was arrogant and thought he was above the rules and didn't understand what it was like to be less than privileged, but when it mattered, he would never let a friend down. So he couldn't help but feel grateful that James was agreeing to do something for him, yet again, that he didn't understand, simply because it was important to Remus.
"Thank you," he sighed, leaning back.
James, who had returned to his work, looked up at him briefly. "Don't thank me for something that's my obligation, Remus. I'm your friend. I shouldn't force anything you're against upon you, and you shouldn't treat my promise not to do so as something more than basic friendship."
And just why was it, Remus thought as he regarded James, that Lily Evans never heard him when he was saying things like this?
"What do you mean?" Remus hissed, panicking as James, Sirius, and Peter stared back at him expectantly. He cast a furtive glance in the direction of Madam Pomfrey, who could be heard rummaging through her stores for something.
"Our discussion earlier must have put the idea in your head," James said helplessly. "I'm sorry, mate, but you were violent. Sirius only opened the door to keep you from seriously hurting yourself or one of us while trying to get out."
Remus looked accusingly at Sirius, who didn't seem nearly as apologetic as James. "But look what good it did!" Sirius insisted. "Nothing happened, Moony! Prongs and I were flanking you the entire time, making sure you didn't go loose, and you looked happier than we've ever seen before. The shack isn't big enough, I'm telling you. Especially not with all four of us."
"Yeah," Peter chimed in. "And really, it was much more fun outside. We panicked when you started heading for the castle—"
"What?" shrieked Remus, who had just begun to relax again. "What do you mean, headed for the castle?!" His reproachful gaze swung towards James and Sirius again, who both gave Peter looks of exasperated betrayal.
"Nothing happened!" Peter quickly amended, backtracking when he realized he'd slipped up. "You weren't going for the students at all! It was just familiarity, I think. And we even discovered a new secret passage."
"Really?" Remus asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "Where does it lead?"
Peter grinned wickedly. "The dungeons. We think we've figured out where the Slytherin common room is, because we thought we heard voices a couple of times."
Remus stiffened again. "There were people around?!"
"You weren't even interested!" Sirius intervened quickly. "We could tell when you smelled them, but then James gave you a warning look and you just backed off. You're out of your mind, but your nature isn't inherently vicious, even as Moony, Remus. Your attention just needs to be diverted and you don't go after anyone."
Remus scowled. "What if you don't notice whoever it is out of bed before I do? Vicious or not, I'm hungry and I can't control myself when I'm in that form—"
"We can control you! Are you listening to me? It's fine!"
"It's not fine; we've been over this—"
"What's done is done," Sirius said firmly, cutting Remus off. "It doesn't matter now. It was fine then, and it's fine now. At least we know how to keep you away from actually seeing any students now. Peter went scouting ahead before we went anywhere. We've got a system."
Remus gave up, too tired to argue more. "So the Slytherin common room, eh?"
"Yeah!" James answered, smiling broadly. "We can actually take care of Slytherin common pranks ourselves now. It'll make things so much easier."
"It's strange, isn't it?" Remus asked thoughtfully. "That we've been here for five years and still don't know everywhere in the school. We just know how to get to all the important places. Think of all the uncharted territory."
"Speaking of uncharted territory, here are the notes for everything you've missed," Sirius added, and Remus recognized three different sets of handwriting as familiar to him as his own, each adorning parchment devoted to a different subject.
Remus took them with a slight smile, feeling the flash of gratitude at the gesture that never seemed to fade, no matter how habitual an action it had become. He remembered the first time they had given him notes:
"But you don't take notes," he had said.
James had shrugged. "You do."
He grinned at the thought of the discovery that had come when he actually read the notes for the first time: scattered throughout the notes were sarcastic quips and comments like, "behavior described sounds suspiciously like James. Look into his medical file" or "re: never trust a Ravenclaw." The annotations were helpfully done in different coloured ink "to heighten his interest," as Sirius had explained.
A light thwack on the back of his remarkably uninjured head brought Remus out of his thoughts. "What?" he asked, mildly irritated.
"Stop smiling at your notes," James scolded. "They're not that interesting. As I was saying, tonight if you're up to it we'll show you what we found. We'll let you get some rest now."
With a wave, Remus watched the others file out before sinking back onto his pillows, falling asleep almost the instantly.
Remus was miserable. He was sorely regretting their midnight excursion to look at the new secret passageway the previous night. He had felt a strange familiarity when retracing his steps to the dungeons, as if by muscle memory his body remembered the way, so the novelty of his had not been worth the utter exhaustion he was feeling at the moment.
They were sitting in class, struggling through an exam that seemed composed entirely of essay questions and arcane material that would probably never come up again. Even Sirius and James seemed ready to pull their hair out.
Sirius was giving his exam the dark glare he usually reserved for rival Quidditch players and people who mentioned his family, and James had snapped his quill in two in frustration. A few desks away, Lily Evans looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment, and Dorcas Meadowes was regarding a small pile of ashes in front of her with a sort of savage satisfaction.
"Time!" called Professor Flitwick. "Pass in your papers, please."
As the four left the classroom, discussing the exam, Peter fell behind a bit, lost in thought. The other three had struggled with that test, he knew, but they could afford to do slightly worse on something. He needed to keep his marks up.
As his parents had told him repeatedly, his current scores were unremarkable, but at least he was barely managing to be decent. Any lower, and he would severely cripple his chances at a good future.
His breathing sped up, and he struggled with himself for several moments before stopping abruptly as a flash of conversation caught his ears.
"—see their faces?" It was a voice he didn't recognize, low and pleasant. "Everyone around us was struggling—even that know-it-all mudblood, Evans." It wasn't a voice that had any right to sound so pleasant.
"Don't speak like that," said another voice shortly. "You know this is a chance to help muggleborns overcome the obstacles of their blood." The first speaker scoffed.
"I knew everything," said a third voice, still unrecognizable. Peter tried to surreptitiously glance around, attempting to pinpoint the voice, but he failed. "It's as they said. We didn't even know what would be one the exam, and it hasn't been very long—best decision I've ever made."
"Shout it out, why don't you," snapped the first voice bitingly, and the conversation immediately dropped to a low murmur, but the brief increase in volume allowed Peter to discern the direction the speakers were in. He caught a flash of three sets of robes lined with the Slytherin green as the group turned the corner and vanished.
Peter's mind raced. It appeared as though the Slytherins had formed some sort of study group—one with strings attached, if there was a decision to be made about it? And it was supposed to be a secret for some reason, as evidenced by their efforts to speak in a low voice.
Peter found himself thanking his good fortune in overhearing that particular discussion. A study group was exactly the sort of thing that he needed to achieve the scores he needed. Studying on his own wasn't working.
The Slytherins had a lot of traits Gryffindors looked down upon—the first speaker's derision towards muggleborns, for instance. Even the Slytherin who had defended Lily had spoken with the implication that there was something inferior about her blood.
But Peter couldn't fault them for their resourcefulness in managing to succeed in an academic endeavor people like James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily had struggled with. He wondered how the Slytherins had known they would need the extra studying—perhaps it was just the prospect of O.W.L.s?
Regardless, it was what Peter needed. He knew it wasn't likely that he would be let into any sort of secret Slytherin organization, but perhaps he could form one of his own? Not with his fellow Gryffindors, because for once he didn't want to be overshadowed by his friends again or looked down on for needing extra help.
He knew they wouldn't mean to, but inherently they all thought he was a bit dim, or at least less intelligent than they were. True as it was, Peter imagined himself impressing them by doing well, having his mother look at his marks with pride.
But he didn't have friends in other houses, so he had no one to make a group with. He could muster up the courage to ask the Slytherins about the study group, but if it was a secret, then perhaps not all Slytherins knew about it.
Given that even amongst the Slytherins there was obvious frustration about the exam during class, he was sure the group didn't include all of them.
"OI!" James's voice snapped him out of his daze, and Peter jerked his head up, startled. "You're practically walking backwards, Wormtail, speed up!"
Peter was torn between feeling good about the fact that he was in enough with people like his friends to be called a nickname nobody else understood and a bit miffed that the nickname was one as horrid as "Wormtail."
Speeding up, Peter fell into step beside his friends and left his musings about the study group behind.
Lily shifted the weight of the book to her other hand, wondering what had possessed her to take such a large volume out of the library. It hadn't even helped with the ridiculously hard exams they had been receiving lately—she'd gotten a 76% on the last exam, which was one of her lowest scores to date.
It was horrifying, and rather enraging, considering half the information they needed to know wasn't in the bloody textbooks. If not to teach them what they needed to know, what exactly was the point of the professors?
Lily quickened her pace, anger feeding her momentum, and turned the corner carelessly—only to crash into something very solid. Startled, she dropped her book and winced as the unfortunate victim of her haste let out a pained moan from the floor.
"Sorry!" she apologized instantly, reaching down to help the person up. When she looked down, her eyes met a fathomless black gaze set in a very familiar face.
"Sev," said Lily quietly, helping him to his feet. He pushed the book back into her hands and regarded her warily. When he didn't make a move to speak, she ventured, "How have you been?" She hadn't seen very much of him lately.
Gone were the days when they would spend hours together every day, talking about classes and ignoring the unlikeliness of their friendship. They fit together, like light and dark. They were opposites, and commonly seen as antagonistic, but neither could really exist without the other. Sev had made her who she was, in many ways, and she had left her mark on his character just as much.
That character seemed to be slipping away more and more these days, and the only marks she saw on him lately were those of Slytherin House claiming him. (Severus didn't like that vein of thought. He said Slytherin had claimed him the day the Sorting Hat proclaimed him ambitious and he put on robes of green and silver. Lily thought joining something and belonging to something were two entirely different things, and he hadn't really belonged to Slytherin until recently, as he walked alongside Avery and Mucliber like a wolf with its pack.)
"Struggling with classes lately?" Severus asked, ignoring her question and staring at the book in her hand. She shifted uncomfortably, wishing he wasn't so perceptive—or direct.
"Not struggling," Lily hedged. Then she narrowed her eyes. She knew him, knew that tone of voice. "You haven't?"
Severus shrugged. "I've told you Slytherin has an extensive library."
"So does Hogwarts," Lily frowned. "And the Ravenclaws, and I've been told they're finding things hard lately as well." She had stayed true to her word and made friends in other Houses. Becoming a prefect especially had helped with getting to know others.
"No House has sponsors like Slytherin does," Severus answered, shrugging, and she knew he was telling the truth.
"But it's not like the stuff we're being tested on is dark or forbidden or even ancient knowledge," Lily protested. "It's just unexpected. Minute. Stuff you wouldn't imagine could ever be useful. And I talked to a seventh year who said the material has changed a bit, that it always got hard around this time but we're learning different things, and if I really wanted to know I should ask McGongall or Dumbledore."
Severus drew back in surprise. "Dumbledore," he murmured. "You think he wanted the syllabus changed?"
Lily shook her head, bewildered. "I dunno—I mean, it's not been changed really. It's nothing drastic, and this isn't even stuff we're learning."
Severus seemed to look through her, deep in thought with his brow furrowed. "I'll see you," he said abruptly, and turned left into another corridor and walked briskly away, leaving Lily staring after him in bemusement.
It wasn't until later that she realized he'd walked off in a direction completely different to one he'd been going in when they bumped into each other.
Peter threw his quill down disgustedly, passing his paper in. He was doing as well as usual—meaning, he wasn't. As he got up roughly and grabbed his bag, he glanced at the Slytherins and saw Snivellus staring fixedly at Professor Flitwick, who was already correcting papers.
Flitwick's expression was unusually grave, and Snivellus, who hadn't even moved to get up, narrowed his eyes. A moment later, Avery murmured something to him and he rose, giving an answer in a low voice. The two turned again to Flitwick, who glanced up, caught them watching, and allowed the briefest of frowns to flicker over his face.
A moment later, the two Slytherins looked away and made their way out, but Peter noticed Flitwick's quill had stopped moving, though the professor was staring intently at the next paper in the pile.
Peter hadn't been mistaken earlier.
Yes, something was definitely going on with the Slytherins.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice far more amused than it had any right to be advised, and Remus stopped mid-head-bang to turn and glare at the smirking visage of one Arash Zamani.
"Arash—" Remus, who had intended to use the Hufflepuff's full name, broke off. "What's your middle name?"
"He hasn't got one," Dylan supplied helpfully, coming up from the other side and dropping into the chair opposite Remus's uninvited.
"Whatever," Remus said irritably. "Arash, would your madar-bozorg want you to disrupt the studies of suffering fifth years?"
"Yes," said Arash. "She would say, 'Well done, Arash! Bring down the competition! Finally, the boy does something right.'"
"I like his madar-bozorg," Dylan added cheerfully, and Remus gave a disgusted snort. He would.
"You're a Hufflepuff," he protested. "Where is the justice?"
"I never said I agreed with her," Arash returned equably. "My madar-bozorg wouldn't have been a Hufflepuff. At any rate, it didn't seem as if there was much studying going on. I wouldn't bang my head like that if I were you. You'll need those brain cells."
"I've heard the exam topics have been a bit different this year," Dylan mused. "People have always struggled, but I definitely don't envy you lot."
"Really?" Remus asked, looking up. "They've changed?"
Dylan seemed to tense for a moment, something dark passing over his expression before he relaxed again. "So I've heard," he said mildly, but there was still something unidentifiable lacing his tone. "Anyway, are you on the verge of tears yet?"
"No," said Remus defensively, glancing between the two sixth years.
Arash grinned at Dylan. "I bet he's experienced mass hair loss."
"My hair is voluminous," Remus cried indignantly, patting down his admittedly thick hair and trying not to let on that he had been worried for a while now that he was balding. (Thoughts of the previous night flashed through his mind, images of himself staring into the mirror, aghast, and wailing, "I'm too young!" swamping him.)
"He's definitely experiencing hair loss," Dylan agreed, sounding delighted about it. "Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much. Exams are an entire two days away! That's an entire forty-eight hours! That's more than enough to prepare for the exams that could shape your entire future because they determine your N.E.W.T. classes which determine your N.E.W.T.s which are only the most basic qualifications for any job you'll ever apply for ever."
Remus, whose breathing had accelerated steadily during Dylan's speech, managed one stricken look at the older boy before promptly crumpling in his seat in a dead faint.
"Oh, my," said Dylan.
Arash's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "You were only warning him," he reasoned. "And he's not nearly stressed enough yet. He deserves to break down the way we broke down, become a nervous wreck the way we became nervous wrecks."
"I was never a nervous wreck," Dylan objected, offended.
"Four-thousand-seven-hundred-and-seventy-six pages, do you remember?" Arash asked, arching his eyebrows.
"No," Dylan said incredulously. "How do you?!"
"Mate, that number was a scar," Arash answered gravely. "It haunted my nightmares. I dreamt of my madar-bozorg's voice repeating it while I curled up in a pitch black room in the fetal position and tried to drown it out. I will never forget that number."
"It's no wonder you were so worried, if your head was full of all that useless information," Dylan laughed. "You'd have no room for anything else. It explains a lot, actually . . ."
"I'll have you know I got eight Outstandings," Arash said indignantly.
"I got nine," Dylan countered, ducking as Arash took a good-natured swing at him.
Arash glanced down at Remus. "He still hasn't come to," he marveled. After waiting another moment, he set down his bag. "Come on. Let's take him to the hospital wing."
Fifteen minutes later, Remus woke to find rows of fifth and seventh years in various positions of great torture, rocking back and forth or muttering to themselves wildly. For a moment he wondered if he'd been dropped off in a madhouse, but his surroundings were familiar enough that he recognized them as the hospital wing.
Looking around, he caught the smirking figures of Arash and Dylan leaning against the doorframe, looking utterly satisfied with themselves. "What's going on?" he demanded.
"You fainted," Arash answered with relish. "The pressure must have gotten to you."
Remus glanced around again. "Is that what happened to these people?"
Dylan grinned. "Every year around this time, people begin to have panic attacks. Madam Pomfrey has the Calming Draught lined up for exactly this reason."
"You'll be next, I expect," Arash added unnecessarily. Giving the room a last long look, he shoved away from the doorframe and grinned. "See you around, Lupin."
With a two-fingered salute and a mocking smile, Dylan followed his friend out of the room, leaving an irritated and very slightly panicked Remus staring after them.
As it turned out, they were right.
At first, the idea of having a Quidditch match the weekend in the middle of O.W.L.s had seemed like an utterly stupid idea, but now Remus realized that it was a chance for them to relax a bit, if only briefly. They had the rest of the weekend to study, after all, and they needed this break. Consequently, most of their year had shown up.
He and Peter had just taken seats at the top of the stands when he heard James's voice from behind him. "Move over, would you?" he asked roughly.
Remus turned in astonishment as James took a seat beside him, jaw clenched and clothes in ordinary school robes.
"What are you doing here?" Peter asked in confusion.
James shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said tightly, although it was very clear that it did. Remus opened his mouth to speak, but one glance from James told him to drop it. As Remus looked back at the pitch, he saw Lily giving James a glare before turning around with a toss of her hair, although James didn't notice.
He returned his attention ahead, feeling a bit baffled—James hadn't so much as looked at her; what had that been about?
The announcer called out the players, and although James's jaw tightened even further when the reserve chaser—a fourth year named Berrigan—was announced, he didn't say a word.
From the moment the quaffle went up in the air, it was clear that Berrigan did not have the same relationship with the other Chasers as James did, and it was affecting their playing. Gryffindor stood a decent chance against Slytherin with James, because Slytherin's once legendary trinity of Chasers had been broken up by a player's graduation, and though still strong, Gryffindor could compete this year.
Without a strong team of Chasers, however, Gryffindor couldn't hope to compete with Stephen Pucey, the renowned Slytherin Keeper. Rumour had it that Pucey was already being scouted by professional leagues for the upcoming summer, although he was only a sixth year.
Gryffindor's Beaters were definitely a match for those of Slytherin, but Beaters didn't earn the points. Combined with the fact that Slytherin had also managed to find itself a very gifted Seeker, the loss of James Potter was a deadly one, and Elliot knew it.
He had pulled James aside before the match, sounding almost ashamed of himself. "Look, I've had a rough time of it lately, and I'm sorry about last week. I was in the wrong. I shouldn't have pulled you out. But I've already promised the match to Berrigan, and she's practiced the new drill and strategy for today. You can't go on today."
And then he had asked, "Why didn't you go to McGonagall about it? She'd have stopped this before it was too late."
And James had only shaken his head, because what reason could he give McGonagall for having to miss practice? "It's full moon tonight and I'm an illegal animagus. I've got to go keep my friend company while he transforms into a deadly, mindless wolf."
Still, when Regulus Black caught the snitch with a neat somersault and took his victory lap around the stadium, the crowd going wild as the other Slytherin players fell behind him in a flawless V-formation, James couldn't help the bitter feeling in him that caused him to level an accusing stare at his Quidditch captain.
And it was childish, but he couldn't help knocking into Elliot roughly as he made his way past, aware of Remus and Peter's eyes on his back. Before he could leave, Elliot grabbed his arm and spun him around.
"You knew," James said angrily, his voice low. "You knew pulling me out would ruin this. Don't give me that rubbish about new drill. We didn't need it to win. We needed me."
"I promised the game to Berrigan," said Elliot, spreading his hands. "I couldn't go back on my word, not even if it would mean a victory. It's my last game, James, don't you think I cared?"
James's eyes went to Elliot's shoulder, where the team had gathered several feet away. "And remember, you missed the practice first. Though most of it lays with me, the blame isn't entirely mine to take."
James's eyes snapped back to Elliot's. "No," he growled, lowering his voice even further so no one could hear. "My entire Quidditch career could depend on it and I wouldn't have missed that night." Unable to bear take another second, James shoved away from Elliot and left.
As he passed the celebrating Slytherin team, for the briefest second he thought about how easy it would have been if he thought a bit more like one of them—he'd have gone to that practice, he'd have gone on to the final. It would have been nice to have a victory lately.
And then he imagined Remus and was glad of his principles, glad of who he was. If Elliot hadn't been such a Gryffindor, James might have played in the match anyway. But it was because of the fact that they valued more important things than victory that they could look in the mirror every day and genuinely like what they saw.
It was something his father had said to him once, when James had come home after getting in a fight with a boy who had insulted him. He hadn't really understood then, thinking that if doing the honorable thing didn't have any visible advantages, it really couldn't matter that much.
He wondered if the fact that he understood now meant he was growing up.
James sighed and leaned back in his chair, glancing at the clock in the corner. They were sitting the Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., and he had finished with time to spare. For all the rigorous testing they had endured preceding the exams, the actual O.W.L.s hadn't been extraordinarily difficult.
They were rather stressful affairs requiring a fair amount of revision, certainly, but not particularly challenging if one knew the information and applied a bit of logic. Idly, James began doodling on a spare bit of parchment, tugging at the knot on his tie with his other hand.
Four seats behind him, Sirius was leaning on the hind legs of his chair, one of the only other people finished with the exam. At James's grin, he returned a confident thumbs up, signaling that the exam had gone well.
Glancing around again, James noticed almost everyone was intent on their exam, some appearing to rack their brains in desperation for any random fact that pertained to the questions while others—like Remus and Snivellus—were scribbling madly, probably trying to cram in more information than necessary in the time allotted. James himself had written only what he knew would give him full marks on the short answer questions.
Yawning, James mussed his hair and surveyed the room again, noting that not all of the people unfinished with their exam were concentrating on it. The girl behind Sirius was staring at him with a rather nauseating expression—what was it with girls and Sirius?—while Peter was sending half-hearted looks at his neighbor's test paper with the full knowledge that there were anti-cheating spells in place.
James wasn't sure how anyone couldn't have full knowledge of this fact, given the amount of times the professors had driven it into their heads.
Out of the corner of his eye, James noticed that Evans had finished and seemed torn between wanting to check her answers over and wanting to be done with it. After several moments, she threw her quill down with satisfaction and leaned back in her chair, raising her eyebrows at Hestia, who had glanced her way.
He watched in fascination as they had a conversation reminiscent of the one between him and Sirius minutes before: Hestia shrugged and Lily grinned a bit; Hestia mimed falling asleep and Lily rolled her eyes at the clock.
Absentmindedly, James began tracing the initials L.E. into his parchment, giving it his full attention as he started sketching her face, and then pictures of a stag, a dog, a wolf, and a rat under the full moon. He was adding the finishing touches on what was a rather good drawing when Flitwick, who was proctoring the exam, called time.
"Quills down, please! That means you too, Stebbins!"
As students began to get up, James waited for the others to catch up before they headed outside, discussing the exam.
"Did you like question ten, Moony?" Sirius asked with a grin.
"Loved it. 'Give five signs that identify the werewolf.' Excellent question," he said seriously.
James feigned worry. "D'you think you managed to get all the signs?"
"Think I did," answered Remus, frowning a bit. What were they again? Oh, yes. "One: he's sitting in my chair. Two: he's wearing my clothes. Three: his name's Remus Lupin . . ." He broke off as James and Sirius began laughing, unable to keep a straight face.
Peter remained silent, and James gave him an incredulous glance.
"I got the snout shape, the pupils of the eyes, and the tufted tail, but I couldn't think of what else—" Peter broke off as James's eyebrows disappeared behind his hair.
"How think are you, Wormtail?" James demanded impatiently. "You run around with a werewolf once a month—"
"Keep your voice down," Remus interrupted, glancing around. He'd gotten comfortable enough to joke about his furry little problem, as James would put it, but that didn't mean he was about to start announcing it to the world.
They sped up a bit, separating from the throng of students milling about the grounds. "Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake," Sirius said. "I'll be surprised if I don't get 'Outstanding' on it at least."
"Me too," James agreed, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a snitch. He released it, letting it fly about in confusion for several moments before snatching it back in a movement faster than they eye could follow.
"Where'd you get that?" Remus wondered.
"Nicked it." They dropped to the ground underneath a beech tree by the edge of the lake, only a little away from the bank, where Lily Evans was sitting with the other girls in their year, sleeves rolled up and shoes and socks tossed aside in favor of dipping their feet into the water.
Remus retrieved a book from his bag and settled back to read, rolling his eyes when Peter began to cheer James on as his catches of the snitch increased in skill. Enjoying the attention, James ruffled his hair again, casting an unsubtle glance towards Lily to see if she noticed.
After a particularly loud cheer from Peter, Sirius drawled, "Put that away, will you, before Wormtail wets himself with excitement."
Peter flushed at that, but surprisingly, James complied. "If it bothers you," he said lightly.
"I'm bored," Sirius sighed. "Wish it was full moon."
Remus glanced up at that. "You might," he said darkly. He sat up. "We've still got Transfiguration. If you're bored you could test me. Here."
Sirius snorted at the proffered book. "I don't need to look at that rubbish. I know it all."
Remus rolled his eyes again, but James's attention had shifted. "This'll liven you up, Padfoot." His voice had taken that soft, dangerous quality to it that Remus didn't like. "Look who it is."
Snape. Knowing they were about to make a scene, Remus returned his gaze steadfastly to his book. This wouldn't be one of their harmless tricks. Peter, however, looked up in anticipation—how he could look forward to the crueler side of James and Sirius's boredom when he had been the target of it so many times, Remus couldn't fathom.
James raised his voice. "All right, Snivellus?" he called.
Instantly, Snape dropped his bag and had his wand halfway into the air by the time James shouted, "Expelliarmus!" It was stunning for a moment how fast he had reacted—it was the sort of speed one would expect from an expert duelist or even an Auror.
It wasn't enough, though, as Snape's want flew into to the air, arcing to ground with impressive velocity. In his peripheral vision, Remus saw another Slytherin make a move toward his wand, hesitate, and draw back again.
Barking out a laugh, Sirius joined in. "Impedimenta!"
Snape, who had been in the midst of retrieving his wand, crumpled to a heap on the ground, breathing heavily. By this point students had formed a ring around the spectacle. Remus glanced up at James. For Sirius it was about antagonizing Snape himself, a Slytherin and a mark of everything he despised.
But for James . . . he saw his friend dart another glance towards the lake, where Lily was sitting. None of the girls were watching.
James's jaw clenched. "How'd the exam go, Snivelly?"
"I was watching him," Sirius sneered. "His nose was touching the parchment. There'll be great grease marks all over it; they won't be able to read a word."
A round of laughter rose up to meet his words, doubling as Snape attempted to get up but was knocked down again by Sirius's jinx. "You—wait," he panted. He glanced up, giving James a look of deep, unadulterated hatred. "You—wait!"
"Wait for what?" Sirius asked with cool, cutting amusement. Remus's grip on his book tightened. James had always been boyishly mean, the sort of thing he would—Remus hoped—outgrow. But Sirius possessed the ability to construct perfectly venomous words that could eat at someone from the inside, the sort of power he'd never lose. "What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?"
Perhaps his insults weren't at his best at the moment, but there was enough viciousness in his tone to make up for that. A torrent of heavy swearing and hexes poured out of Snape's mouth, and James's eyes gleamed.
"Wash out your mouth," he ordered coldly. "Scourgify!"
Bubbles erupted out of Snape's mouth; he writhed on the ground, hacking and coughing and gagging until—"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"
Both Sirius and James paused, surveying the crowd. James's hand leapt to his hair as his eyes fell on Lily Evans, who had her hands fisted at her sides and was trembling with rage.
Despite the situation, James immediately cracked a charming smile. "All right, Evans?" he greeted, his tone pleasant and his voice deeper.
Lily gave him the sort of look one usually reserved for a particularly foul fungi they dealt with in Potions or Herbology. "Leave him alone," she said again, her voice quieter but no less forceful. "What's he done to you?"
"Well," James mused, looking as if he was actually thinking about it, "it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean."
Laughter rose up again, and thought both Sirius and Peter afforded James a laugh, Remus stayed silent, nearly glaring a hole through his book. Lily didn't so much as give a twitch of her lips.
"You think you're funny," she nearly spit out, disgust marring every feature of her face, "but you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone."
"I will if you go out with me, Evans," James answered immediately, almost tripping over the words in his haste to get them out. "Go on: go out with me and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."
Unnoticed, Snape began to inch towards his wand, the jinx wearing off.
"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid," said Lily, and she didn't shout it or spit it out or say it in any manner she usually did. She said it seriously and expressionlessly, and for a moment James's pleasant smile was replaced by a much darker expression.
But then Sirius spoke, and he was back to normal. "Bad luck, Prongs." He turned and suddenly noticed Snape's position. "OI!"
It was too late. With a flick of Snape's wand, there was a flash of light and James was suddenly bleeding, a deep cut on the side of his face. Reacting instantly, James sent Snape into the air, hanging upside-down with his robes hanging down to reveal his thin form and greying underwear.
Sirius, James, and Peter roared with laughter as the crowd applauded them; even Lily's mouth twitched for a moment before her expression turned furious again. "Let him down!"
"Certainly," James said, sounding for all the world like a gentleman agreeing to go for an evening stroll. With another jerk of his wand, Snape crumpled painfully to the ground.
He got to his feet with impressive speed, again, but in a bored tone Sirius said, "Petrificus totalus!" and Snape was back on the ground.
Lily had had enough. Whipping out her own wand, she raised her voice. "Leave him alone!"
James and Sirius eyed her warily. "Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you," said James.
"Take the curse off him, then."
James heaved a sigh before muttering the counter-curse and letting Snape up. "There you go. You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus—"
"I don't need help from filthy little mudbloods like her!" Snape spat vehemently, his eyes blacker and wilder than Remus had ever seen.
Lily drew back before swallowing. "Fine," she said coolly. "I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."
James jumped to her defence. "Apologize to Evans!" he yelled furiously, directing his wand at Snape again.
"I don't want you to make him apologize!" Lily turned on James. "You're as bad as he is."
James jerked back. "What?" he protested, looking as though he'd been slapped. "I'd never call you a—you-know-what!"
Lily sneered. "Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can—I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me sick." She spat out the last word and spun on her heel, storming away.
James stared after her in shock. "Evans!" he called. "Hey, EVANS!"
She walked off like she didn't hear.
"What is it with her?" James asked, his frustration clear no matter how he tried to hide it.
"Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate," said Sirius.
"Right," said James, fury quickly lighting his features, "right—" He turned violently, and with another flash of light, Snape was in the air again.
"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" he snarled.
"No one, mate," Sirius said, sounding faintly disgusted. "I'm already scarred."
"Right," James said again, and dropped Snape again, turning his back on him. Sirius watched Snape carefully, but all he did was pick up his wand and bag and dash off in the direction Lily had gone. The crowd began to disperse, and James dropped to the ground again, not a hint of amusement in his expression.
He tore at the grass for a moment before leaping to his feet again. Sirius, who had just sat down, looked up at him with a frown. "What are you doing?"
James gave a foreceful shrug before striding quickly off towards the castle. Remus watched him go. "Should we follow him?"
Sirius stared after him for a moment. "No," he decided. He looked back at Remus, who was staring at him with an unfathomable gaze. His eyes narrowed. "What?"
Remus met his stare for a second before shaking his head. "Nothing."
He could feel Sirius's gaze on him as he returned purposefully to his book, deliberately not looking up. He didn't even glance up when Sirius copied James a moment later, saying something about going back to the common room. Nor did he move when Peter soon followed, almost running away.
Yet not once during any of it did he turn a single page.