The train pulled into Hogsmeade Station later than scheduled. Rumours quickly flew between cars that Severus Snape had summoned dementors, which attacked Cari Schmidt and Lily Evans. Remus rolled his eyes when James told him what he'd heard from Shafiq by the loo. Severus was Lily's best friend, even more than her roommates. He'd never hurt Lily. However, Remus wouldn't put it past him to summon dark creatures. Peter heard Esther say there were Death Eaters in that train car as he was tracking Frank down to report the tea they'd spilled when the train lurched to continue their journey. Remus told them no one would likely know the truth until the feast.
At supper, Remus heard Narcissa Black complain loudly about the silverware being made of steel ("This place has gone to the dogs!"). James picked up his fork, scrutinising, turning, and balancing it. "Steel, Remus," he whispered. With a tentative hand, Remus picked up a grey sugar spoon. Nothing burned. With a grin, he tossed it in the air, and caught it. He searched the front of the room for his Defence teacher, but noticed several staff members, including Professor Windsor, were missing from the table. It had to be him who made the change though, Remus was sure of it.
The truth about the train attack came after Dumbledore's usual start of term announcements. The anti-apparition wards on the train had been broken, and a couple Death Eaters entered the train, but left before anyone was injured. Hogsmeade trips were being cut short by two or three hours, depending on when sunset was, for the rest of the winter months.
The Headmaster was imposing a new curfew for being in the castle by 2100 hours for fourth through seventh years and 1900 hours for first through third years. Everyone was to be in their house by 2130 hours, no exceptions. A few fourth year girls near Remus began complaining loudly about their recently earned privilege of upperclassmen curfew being revoked.
"It's for your safety," Marlene McKinnon said tersely.
"Rot! It's our right—"
"So you'd rather have your rights to die, is that it?"
"I'm saying we shouldn't live in fear. That's what this group wants!"
"And Lily should always be hyper-vigilant, ready to stun people who would hurt muggleborns, like today?"
Wait, "They attacked Lily?" Remus called down in alarm.
"Eavesdropping, Lupin?" an older girl asked.
"You're cacophonous complaining makes it impossible not to!"
Marlene had the good grace to ignore them, "Hit 'em with stunners! That's at least a fourth year spell. They tried to torture her so Pomfrey's looking at her now. And Cari got knocked out and has
cuts from glass everywhere—" Shite, Remus thought. They'd gone after Lily. Bookish, no nonsense, jinx with good reason, cares about everyone and everything, Lily! She was a strong fighter, but to stand up against dark wizards at only twelve...
"Wait, Schmidt's injured? Dumbledore said—" one of the girls who was on the Quidditch team, Crichet, blanched.
"They weren't outright injured by the Death Eaters," Marlene snapped at her.
"Schmidt's in the hospital wing?" Crabtree asked a few chairs down opposite Marlene. He stood up and told members of the Quidditch team to follow, to show their support. James and Sirius were the second to stand, after the girls.
Remus made to follow Sirius and James, "When did you make the Quidditch team?" Sirius asked.
Lily was asked by Professor McGonagall to come with her when she left the train. Severus lingered until the teacher shooed him off. Supposing she'd need to recall what had happened, Lily followed, only slightly nervous she'd get in trouble for initiating. It would have been easier if Sev had been allowed to accompany her. An inner voice reminded her she did nothing wrong, the Death Eaters were there to harm and she was using the theoretical logic she'd learned from her Defence professors (even if the spell was from books and practicing with Severus). But you cast the first spell. Instead of making for her head of house's office, however, they stopped in front of the Hospital Wing.
"What?" Lily managed.
"Amel mentioned they attacked with an Unforgivable," she opened the door and Madame Pomfrey rushed over.
"But I was protected," Lily thought about the inhuman scream that emitted from the Death Eater who fired at her. It was a sound which would probably visit her in a nightmare that evening. She was pushed to sit on the edge of a bed by the matron.
"We still need to allow Poppy a once over to be sure," she paused, "I'm concerned you weren't brought back with Miss Schmidt."
"Lily!" Cari called from two beds over, her forehead bandaged.
The doors to the ward opened again; a slew of mostly men filtered in. This included several boys from her year.
"Remus?" she asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Quidditch team came to check on Cari."
"You're not on the Quidditch team."
"Yeah, well, I heard you were here too."
Marlene and Ginny, having been able to spend the last few hours of the train ride with Lily, were understandably at Cari's side. Her gut twisted a little, though.
"Well, I'm fine," Lily turned her eyes back on Remus.
"That you are, Miss. Evans," Madame Pomfrey finished waving her wand. "I still recommend a dreamless sleep potion for a few nights though. You've been through a trauma. Take a full dose for three nights then wean off it in quarters another four." She summoned a phial and handed it to her.
It was hard to ignore Sirius' booming voice, "You gonna make it to practice tomorrow?"
"She hit her head, Black!" Crichet replied.
"Nothing important, then," he said.
"Naff off," Cari told him in a voice that didn't mean it.
"Honestly," Marlene said.
Madame Pomfrey turned her attention away from Lily, "All of you better lower your voices by several octaves or else you're out of here!" she admonished in a tone, frankly, louder than Black's.
"Miss Evans, since you are all right. Would you accompany me to give a statement?"
Lily nodded and stood, "Thanks for stopping by, Remus. See ya in Herbology tomorrow, yeah?"
Once she'd said her piece in Professor McGonagall's office in front of the headmaster, an Auror, Professor Windsor, and the office owner herself, Lily allowed herself to relax. There. It was all out in the open.
"What I don't understand," the Auror taking notes spoke, "is how the Cruciatus Curse did not affect you."
Lily pulled the locket out from under her shirt, "My protection charm. It—it rebounded the curse. I hardly noticed it happen."
Professor Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, "Might I take a look at that?"
The piece of jewellery was forfeited and turned over several times in the headmaster's long fingers, "How did you come upon this?"
There was something Lily didn't like in his voice, "A friend gave it to me for Christmas last year."
"I believe, there's a shield of Raczidian inside. Raczidian was an old wizard who lived in a castle with dementors and a fair few undesirable beings for company. His affections turned towards a young, very young, witch named Eliana. He intended to marry her. It is said he created this type of shielding spell with the intention of wearing it around her neck when she came to live with him so no denizens or dementors except, for the creator, could harm her. In fact, if any magic of ill intent aside from the caster's entered her presence, it would be rebound back on the caster or creature ten fold. Eliana never married Raczidian, of course, but the details of the spell were discovered years later."
"So, it's a dark charm? A curse?" Lily was shocked and appalled. Had Severus put that in there himself? It belonged to his grandmother...
"The creation of this particular shield was invented as a means of obsessive protection...and left open to possible abuse. Gemstones are often used to channel or amplify powers, which is what I believe this emerald is intended to do.
"If I may, Headmaster?" Professor Windsor asked, continuing when Professor Dumbledore gave him a nod, "There's no harm in the spell itself. In fact, one could argue it is excellent for repelling dark magic, especially if the caster intends to use it for himself, or a friend. It's a rare instance of dark magic being twisted for good, instead of the other way around."
"Or a shield being twisted into something dark being repurposed for something originally good," the Auror spoke before leaving, "You're a muggleborn. Definitely no harm in wearing that," he pointed. Lily's head spun. No harm? The Auror was gone so she turned her distraught thoughts towards Professor Dumbledore, "No harm? YOU MEAN I USED A CURSE TEN FOLD ON A HUMAN BEING?"
When the candelabra in the office began to sway, Lily quickly unclenched her fists and controlled her breathing.
"A human being with mal-intent. I hardly believe you've been ricocheting defensive spells off your person all year in practical lessons. Had you not been wearing this, Miss. Evans, it's quite possible that human being would have seriously injured other students. The Cruciatus Curse affects the nervous system in such a way irreparable damage can occur, especially on a child. They definitely would have injured you."
Lily pondered his words and felt sick to her stomach. When she'd asked specifically what the torture curse did, Marlene and Ginny had silenced Severus. Quite literally. Made him mute the rest of the journey.
"Your protection on the train was nothing short of heroic. Therefore, I am awarding fifty points to Gryffindor."
Lily didn't want to be rewarded for harming someone else! A terrorist, maybe, but a human being with a soul and probably a family and...she screwed her eyes shut. But she saw Kitty's cousins, those poor Soviet students fleeing to the States, a journalist silenced for telling the truth. Lids opened again.
"I feel there something you wish to ask me?"
Lily hesitated, "There is one thing, sir. Earlier, Professor McGonagall said the torture curse was an Unforgivable. What did that mean?"
"Albus..." Professor McGonagall said quietly but he spoke quietly.
"Plenty of magic is illegal, or needs proper Ministry filing to prevent abuse. However, there are three spells the entire Wizarding World has agreed should be punished most severely if used. In Great Britain, casters are usually sent to Azkaban."
"What are they?" Lily couldn't help but ask.
"One is the curse intended for torture and nothing else: The Cruciatus Curse. Another is the curse which kills whatever living being it hits: The Killing Curse. The last is the curse which takes control of another's will: The Imperius Curse. There may be possible escape from the first and the latter, but never The Killing Curse," he let out a small sigh, "I do recommend you get some rest tonight, Miss Evans. And should you need anything, Professor McGonagall will be available the rest of this evening. I'm returning this," he handed her the locket, "to use at your discretion. Auror Vance is correct, this could be useful to you again."
Lily didn't take phial of potion that evening, wishing to not rely on drugs. She was, however, comforted by feeling Kathryn crawl in beside her before whispering, "Nox."
Sirius was most eager to try out his Christmas present from the Potter Family: the Nimbus 1500 (far superior to the Ministry Law books from his parents). Although subpar to James' Thunderbolt, which was limited edition produced by one broomstick maker and not a manufacturing company, it was the racing broomstick professional Quidditch teams all over Britain and several other countries was using. Regulus voiced wishing he had friends who bought such expensive presents. His father allowed him to keep it because the quality was top of the line ("We are above what the plebeians are purchasing, remember that.") and faster than his Nimbus 1001. Something akin to pride stirred in his heart that his friend's family had spent so much on him until he saw Remus' leather bound, first edition of Agrippa's Grimoire (Blimey, it may have even been the original writing), and Peter's pot of Niffler's Fancy (an incredibly rare copper leafed plant which James and Peter went on and on about the magical properties of).
The frustrating thing was Sirius hadn't been able to fly yet, his gift being "supervised" by his parents until he returned to school. Even more frustrating, quality practice time was being used by Crichet (approved by Captain Crabtree) to sign a silly Get Well Soon card for Cari, who was already out of the Hospital Wing and observing practice from the stands.
James quickly signed his name with a flourish under the fluttering Snitch and passed the card to Sirius. It wasn't even an image Cari would dig. She appreciated unique and challenging. As the others filed out of the changing rooms, Sirius caught James' sleeve, "You still got any of that disappearing ink?"
"Still have most of a bottle in my bag from when we sent that request to break off a marriage proposal to your cousin from Malfoy."
"Brill," Sirius smirked, unlocked James' locker, and retrieved the special ink. James gave a two fingered salute and made for the pitch.
Working quickly, and quite proud of himself, Sirius was able to cast a Concealment Charm over the other notes before dipping a quill in the special liquid...
"Here ya go!" Sirius flew up to deliver the enveloped card to Cari Schmidt. The gauze had been removed from her forehead, which now sported minimal visibility of damage done.
"New whip?" she eyed his broomstick while opening the parchment.
Her eyebrows raised when she began reading his poem bemoaning the fact she had to: Spend all practice doing nothing but sit on thine fanny. It must have been a bummer having glass stuck in every nook and cranny. Next time thou taketh on a Death Eater, make REALLY BLOODY SURE thine balance is better than he. The huffy laugh and eye roll which came at his admonishment for Quidditch preventing injury (that cut into his valuable flying time), made him know it was time to fly away. She threw the letter at him, "Prick!" He called, "You might want to read that again later!" and winked.
After practice with lungs burning from the freezing air, Sirius drank gratefully and deeply from James' insulated tea flask. They bundled into cloaks, not bothering to change, and left a particularly potent present in the Slytherin locker rooms. In a week, Ravenclaw would have their match against Slytherin. Gryffindor would be playing Slytherin next month. While he and James were discussing how brilliant it would be if the snakes lost to Ravenclaw, James was approached by Bannatyne requesting help calibrating broom balance.
They parted ways, Sirius continuing towards the castle.
On the third floor, he heard a composed yet eager, "Sirius!"
Sirius happily turned to see Regulus making his way towards him, two library books in hand, "Coming from Quidditch practice?"
"Nah, simply thought my Quidditch robes were more sporting than my school uniform," he said sarcastically, ruffling his brother's hair.
The boy smoothed it down with a glare. "You smell bad," he astutely observed, having had his nose forced to pit level.
"Now, is that any way to address an etiquette infraction politely?" Sirius grabbed the book from his brother's hands. "What'cha reading?"
"Extra curricular research."
"What kind of extra curriculars can ickle firsties participate in besides Duelling Club?" Sirius was curious. The thinner book was in Italian.
"One is for Duelling Club actually, I asked Professor Xing, at your suggestion, to teach me more about Far Eastern duelling styles. Amycus says that's naff and I need to learn British techniques. So I found a book in Italian since neither Carrow knows anything besides English and Latin. Bit uncouth of their parents. Anyway, the other is a book cousin Bella suggested on the Imperius Curse, and compares various other spells and coercive potions with it. Riveting stuff I've skimmed!" the more his brother spoke, the further Sirius' smile slid into a scowl.
"This is a restricted book!"
"But not from the Restricted Section. Cissy checked it out for me."
Anger warmed Sirius' cold fingers, "Anything Bella suggests is rubbish! She's married to a Death Eater and probably one herself!"
"I know for a fact several of this year's NEWT Defence students, including your high and mighty lions, have checked this volume out," he brandished the borrowing card from the inside cover. "You know, Sirius, sometimes I think you want our family to be evil, so you can excuse your rebelliousness more. But Death Eaters aren't out to harm us."
"They attacked the train yesterday!" he yelled incredulously.
A prim voice called around the corner, "Keep shouting like that, cousin; Gryffindor may lose some points." Sirius glared as Narcissa came into view. He didn't care about points. Somehow they were up by fifty overnight.
"You! You and your munter sister put him up to this filth!" he brandished the book at her face, fingering his wand.
She drew in closer, brandishing her own wand, "Your mudblood loving friends," she spat out the word, "have been corrupting you."
Regulus stepped in between them, elbows braced on each's sternum, "Stop! Please don't fight!"
"Look at what you've done, upsetting Reg!"
"Sirius, NO! I'm fine, just, don't fight. Not here." It wasn't diplomatic. It was desperate. Eyes never leaving Narcissa's, he shoved the book hard into her chest and left. Not stopping at the Gryffindor tower, Sirius continued on all the way to the top of the Astronomy tower, sitting ramrod straight on the ledge, fingers burning from the cold once more until they numbed. He watched his breath droplets even out into the air until the twilight sun disappeared. Footsteps echoed up the stairs sometime later. How much time, Sirius wasn't sure.
Regulus didn't have either of his books, and he was wrapped in his silver fox fur cloak. He didn't dare join Sirius on the edge, legs dangling too many metres off the ground with no railing, but rather leaned stiffly forward on his forearms. Sirius didn't acknowledge him, so a few minutes later Regulus spoke.
"I don't like it when you fight with Cissy," he said quietly, "Or Mum and Dad," he added.
"I don't like the lies they spew," he looked down at the torch sconces lighting up the side of the castle, dancing and lighting up otherwise inky darkness.
"They say you lie."
Sirius had learned how to not blatantly lie. No, deception in his family had to be tricky, mincing words properly or lying by omission, like letting his parents believe he was at James' when he was at Peter's. Neither was lying because his parents were deceived by deception from other purebloods. Sirius was smart enough to not be brainwashed. Regulus was too, he knew.
"We can't both be lying. You know I tell you the truth, right, Reg?"
"I want to believe you, I really do. But things have changed so much in the last year and a half. You've changed—become impetuous."
"For the better," Sirius assured.
"Our family wants to protect us from the muggle-huggers. Like I said before, we're Blacks, the Death Eaters won't hurt us. Family won't hurt us."
That was rich. Thus far, his family had hurt him the most. Sirius clenched his fists and pain began to radiate once more in his ungloved fingers. He licked his chapped lips. Here was a truth that never was technically a lie (unless by omission): "My mates and I met two muggles this summer."
"Cor," Regulus' eyes widened.
He didn't think too much about Mrs. Pettigrew other than her exasperation and over-protection of Peter, but Jess...Jess had been cool. He remembered the little silver lighter she used to light rolled up fags, the skin tight muggle clothes that showed rolls and all, the ink permanently etched on her collar bone, the head banging songs she sang on the car ride to King's Cross contrasted with Jane's mellow ones, the slightly burnt chocolate chip biscuits she baked, the way she and Peter's sister, a muggle and a witch, could talk about this, that, and everything just like Sirius did with his mates.
"And you know what?" he declared, "They're not that much different from us."
Regulus breathed out deeply and repeated, "Cor, Sirius. English muggles?"
"Yeah, and y'know, I'd like to hear more about what those European wizards think about Asian duelling positions," he snorted. "Really though. Carrow is a berk; Windsor says there's a lot we can learn about Defence from other cultures (including muggle). Even the Scots duel different from the English..." he remembered his father taking him to witness a duel outside his own, more legal challenges—bonding time, if you will ("It's important you don't tell anyone about this. It's a special secret you get to keep as nobility. We're above Ministry nuances."). He watched a Londoner who staked a claim on some highlander's property in the Hebrides fight to first blood.
"Thanks, Sirius. Can we go inside now? My face is chapping and my toes are freezing."
Sirius nodded. Perhaps he should have a hot shower to warm up before sleeping, or maybe...
James and Remus both yelped after Sirius stuck his block of ice feet under their legs for warmth.
***first quarter***
James bumped into Kingsley who'd stopped suddenly outside the Defence classroom. The ex-roommate got an elbow in his side to move out of the way so James could read a notice on the door: 2nd and 4th year class on the Quidditch Pitch. Bundle up.
"Has he gon' mad?" a Slytherin asked. "It's negative 10 out there!"
"Nearly froze the bollocks off in practice yesterday," Dobson complained.
James was excited. Last class on a Friday and they got to play outside!
Evans cast a spell. Several articles of clothing flew towards the Gryffindor girls. Marlene's mink shawl, Hampton's scarlet cloak, and, James laughed, the brightest sort of muggle jacket, lumpy with feathers, and a multi-coloured scarf Evans began to wrap around her neck.
"Lads have your woolies?" James asked. Peter pulled out his baby pink mittens and Sirius wrapped James' old scarf around his neck before dawning the raggedy looking cap Remus had made him. Sirius asked Remus if he wanted anything from the dorms, but Remus shrugged, telling him they knew that warming spell Windsor had taught them before the holidays.
The pitch was cleared of last night's snowfall. Thankfully, the sun was threatening to peek from behind the low grey clouds. Several markers similar to those in Duelling Club were spaced out along the grass. Aces! They were going to get to duel.
"Good afternoon, class!"
Several classmates chattered their greetings.
"Today we are going to continue our lessons in using an attacker's weak points to our advantage..."
While he spoke, James and the others cast warming charms over themselves. Evans held a little ball of blue fire between her and Snivellus. Although she wasn't the only one wearing more muggley outerwear, it was the brightest and most noticeable. Drawn back to his teacher's speaking, James watched several hands shoot up to answer some question or other.
"Yes, Mr. Snape,"
"We all have the disadvantage of being cold right now. So it's a mutual weakness, but easier to predict stiffness, sloppiness, and speed of our opponent."
"Indeed! Five points to Slytherin."
James wondered if Snivellus factored in warming charms. Did Remus have the same natural weakness? The boy was like a human hot water bottle in bed... As if Sirius read part of his mind, he asked, "Think it'll be hard to concentrate enough to keep warmth up while duelling?"
It had been challenging enough during the Great Snowball War of 1972. But there wouldn't be as much shifting around or running this time. James realised he was missing quite a bit of what Professor Windsor had spoken. No, go back!
"...so you'll take turns figuring out what besides the cold you can use to your advantage! We've partnered with people whose disadvantages we know quite well before. Today, I want you to pair up with someone you know nothing about, so you'll have to suss out advantages you can use. There will be three rounds so you can learn from your mistakes or how to compensate for natural shortcomings."
That was a tall order. James ran in circles around his house, spent much valuable time spying on Slytherins in the dungeons last year, and had at least one blackmailable fact on every person in the classroom. In the end, he wound up placed with Evans after Professor Windsor made a few matches himself. At least he'd have a bit of a challenge, although he'd never admit that to the ginger who'd supposedly taken on two Death Eaters.
James considered her for a moment. Was muggleborn a disadvantage? Nah, at this point she'd witnessed enough duels in Club. Disappointed, he watched her discard her robes and scarf, but still wore the fluorescent coat. A loose scarf could've been a Great Advantage: James Potter. No matter, he would have a more sure stance as a man. She may be lithe, but her girly bits may...he stopped that train of thought. Wasn't that what he had thought about Hampton in flying lessons? Hampton, who now (wrongfully) had a higher position on the Quidditch team than he? Did Evans even have girly bits yet? Right, focus. Win.
They took positions. James crouched in a Tiger Position from one of the books he was reading. To his left, Sirius began a bombardment of spells on Amycus Carrow, mad glint in his eye. James smiled and turned to Evans, "Don't think I'll go easy on you because you're a lady."
"Don't think I'll go easy on you because your brain is the size of a pea."
That made James' smile grow, "One...two...three!"
James took the first round with valiant use of a simple cutting spell on Evans coat. The scene was reminiscent of a goose massacre. All bright colours and feathers and Evans screeching. While distracted, James disarmed her.
With a face the colour to match her hair, Evans took the second round, Espelliarmus so strong it even knocked his arse to the ground and wind out of his lungs for seconds which felt like ages.
The last round James most definitely won no matter what some people said. Professor Windsor declared it a tie, but James knew.
"You've ruined my good winter coat, Potter!" she decried after class, "My parents had to pay for it in instalments!"
"There's this thing. Called magic. That can fix it," James said slowly, as one would speak to a child.
"Magic and synthetic fibres in muggle clothing don't always mix too well," Professor Windsor sadly shook his head and rounded up feathers with a swish and flick. "If you have no use for these, they may benefit Hagrid or the house elves in a pillow or duvet.
"Yeah, sure," Evans said quietly, burning holes in James' head with her floo fire glare.
"I'll buy you a new one?" James hated how high his voice went.
With a scoff, Evans walked away.
James got into a row with Remus. Or rather, Remus rowed and James picked at a scab.
"That was not on. You should apologise."
"It was taking advantage..."
"You destroyed somebody's essential property beyond the point of fixing!"
"You didn't seem to care when we affixed scat to Ravenclaw Quidditch robes!"
"She only had one winter coat to keep warm!"
"That's what magic is for, she taught you the bluebell flames, yeah?"
"What if she needs her magic for something else?"
"I'll use my allowance and find another muggley coat, then! Bing, bang, boom, problem solved over the weekend."
"I doubt she'd take it from you," Remus snorted.
"Why?!" James demanded.
"What Remus is saying, James," Peter said cooly, "Is that not everyone can afford pretty new things or wants the shame of relying on the charity of friends.
"Is that what you're saying?" James asked Remus, who wouldn't meet his eye.
"Among other things," Remus replied.
"Oh," James didn't know how else to respond. But that was stupid, wasn't it? Being embarrassed about money whether you had it or not? If one has the means to help another person out, he generously should. James didn't realise he'd been rambling his string of thoughts out loud.
"Her birthday's in a few weeks," Remus spoke at a much quieter octave. "You could replace it as a birthday gift, with an apology."
So the werewolf was wise.
***full moon***
Peter nibbled the end of a sugar quill in History of Magic. Next to him, James was draping his cloak (not the famous invisible one) over a prone and sleeping Remus. Sirius idly suggested to Peter tickling Remus' nose with that quill to wake him up.
"Furry little problem's tonight, wally," he pulled the sweet out of reach.
Realisation dawned on Sirius' face, "Right. He didn't say."
Remus wasn't the type of bloke to say. But there were signs, scarily similar ones to living with two women: Tiredness, nausea, irritability, and, although he had no confirmation, Peter was suspicious his friend was hiding pain. It was what led Peter to believe Remus was born female last year. Peter didn't use his muggle planner except for exam weeks it seemed, but over Christmas holidays, he marked the corners of the days when there was a full moon. This month there was even a lunar eclipse. Peter wasn't sure if his roommate's tiff with James last week was wolf related or just Remus, but Peter made sure to intervene before books started to fly. Their room had exploded one too many times already, and now Peter had a valuable Niffler's Fancy to parent. He'd been protecting his letters from Dad and a little extra contraband in his trunk as well...
While his mind was not prone to wandering in class, it was too easy in Binns' class to drift to his conversation with Jane. She'd been so unlike herself—using coarse language, smoking, shaking in ways he suspected wasn't from the cold. The images of his father weren't ever too terrible. He remembered Mum crying a few times. Dad getting down at his eye-level telling him she wasn't too keen on magic and to keep his head low so no accidental magic surprised her (that was, until Jane's Hogwarts letter came). Peter wondered if he'd ever been Obliviated. But he didn't have any of the odd vibes Jane described.
Scratching his brow, he finished his sweet and packed his bags. He didn't feel like attending choir practice, but trudged to the snake infested room anyways.
Remus had to leave the dorm before James and Sirius returned from Quidditch practice and Peter returned from choir. As much as he hated them seeing the state he was in after last full moon, he secretly hoped they'd come visit him in the hospital wing again. He didn't mention it though, not wishing to impose on the big weekend plans of first Duelling Club this new term.
He walked with Professor McGonagall, who asked him about his holidays, which he deflected and in turn asked how hers were, "Oh, one of the best Christmases in a long time," she said with mirth. "My brother came down from Orkney with a finely aged bottle of...*ahem* darjeeling."
"Darjeeling, indeed, Minerva," Professor Windsor joined them, disillusioned again.
"I appreciate my tea strong," she said back.
Remus wished he had one of those muggle recorders because damn if the others weren't going to believe this side of their Transfiguration professor.
Professor McGonagall cast fresh heating spells on the frigid shack before asking if there was anything else he needed this month.
"All right then, take this weekend to rest well. If your friends get too boisterous, let me know. How has it been? Them knowing?"
Remus pondered this. In November, they had been quite aware of when the full was. But he was fairly certain they'd forgotten this month. He was treated as he always had been—just Remus, but with a new nickname. Was that what he wanted? The other Marauders still didn't seem to grasp the wolf was Remus as well. And dangerous. And a monster. Yet, it was freeing. Them...accepting.
"It's terrific," he settled on. A horrifyingly good adjective which encapsulated old and new meaning, "Less lonely. But frightening more people know, because there's greater chance something may slip. They sometimes call me Moony, now."
"The connotation in my mind goes back to the lad nicknamed Moony in my year, who earned the title through more roguish means than you, after causing a distraction during a Quidditch match. You're creative; I doubt the average mind will stray further from similar sentiment."
Was Professor McGonagall suggesting he encourage the perception the nickname originated from some trouser dropping related endeavour? It was better than him revolving around James Potter...
"Was he successful?" Remus asked, pained, as joints strained to pop. A wave of nausea gripped his stomach.
"Oh, we won the match," Professor McGonagall affirmed. Her mirth left however, as she noticed his pain.
"Anything you need?" she asked again.
"For you to leave," he gasped out. His teacher was beginning to smell...like prey? Cat? Something to chase. Her heartbeat didn't so much as quicken nor adrenaline pump out fear of any kind. With a nod, she turned and said, "Good luck. Amel's got the tunnel entrance covered."
He quickly undressed, fingers fumbling. Remus lay down on the floor, tears pricking his ducts, but in a better mood than the last few fulls.
There were flashes of muted colours...smells of human, cat, and wolf intermingling...want to rip...tear...kill...howl...NO!...Why? What was the point?...You deserve it...No, what?...Herbology homework was due on Monday...Howl once for his pack...Where were they?...Ear itches...shifting colours of climbing down stairs, more peripheral vision...leaping on the sofa with sponge torn out...circle once...twice...thrice...curl in a ball...snooze...dream of the outside...
Remus woke with a gasp. Ashen clouds and upside down trees moved with his lolling head uncomfortably. Freezing mist stung his face. He was wrapped in a woollen, itchy, blanket. His neck was too weak, but eyes wandered. Black stubble speckled with grey was concealed under a hood. Then moved, looking down. Those dark eyes and face birth mark were familiar, "Remus? Almost to the castle. Poppy will be right with you."
His jaw was too heavy to speak, but in his mind, Remus nodded, Okay. The man lay him down on pristine sheets which smelled of lemon and herbaceous antiseptics. A white aproned woman approached. The wool blanket was removed. He moaned at the loss—naked body shivering.
"He's conscious?!" she asked the man, quietly surprised.
"Just barely."
"Usually he's out cold. And far less blood than last month, thank G-d..."
Either she trailed off, or his mind did, slipping back into sleep as another blanket was wrapped around him.
Sirius read the Daily Prophet crossword clues aloud to a sleeping Remus as he answered them. Peter played with a bit of circular string, weaving it about his fingers, making designs, and giving himself whiskers. James had finished reading the best articles to Remus from Quidditch Quarterly and was currently scouring the catalog portion.
"Oh, look at that, I'm the answer to 11 down: Most brilliant star in the Earth's night sky. Most brilliant in the sky and at Hogwarts."
"...You...wish..." Sirius heard Remus breathe out. Looking up from the paper, he smiled, "Morning Moony!"
"More like, good afternoon," Peter said, "We just came from lunch."
"Hmm," Remus grinned dopily, looking around.
Once the sleepiness left his eyes, Remus was alert and "helping" Sirius with his crossword. A thought seemed to occur to his overly taxed mind, "Don' you have Transfiguration right now?"
James waved his hand, "Practical. Terrapins into teapots, piece of cake. You can bum notes from Evans which we can bum from you. More important Sirius' here."
"I wonder what it would be like to carry your house around with you?" Sirius thought aloud.
"That's called camping," Peter said.
"We should camp sometime. Outdoors. Not under a fort," Sirius thought of all the amusement they could have in the woods, or on top of a mountain, or on a beach, he didn't care, really.
"That'd be aces! Living all rustic...What d'you think, Moony?" James asked.
"It's a plan," he picked a stray thread on his sheet. "Wish I could go to our room and sleep."
"You're not as bunged up as last time, it seems," Peter observed, "Maybe Madame Pomfrey will let you off early."
It was not to be.
The three of them were kicked out before Potions.
"But—" Sirius protested.
"I will tell your head of house to suspend you from Quidditch!"
Minerva McGonagall loved Quidditch, she'd never suspend such a valuable asset from playing!
"Think of how irate she'd be just to make that decision," James blanched. Good point.
In Potions Snivellus asked him where they'd been all day.
"Bugger off," he replied.
"It's got to do with Lupin, doesn't it? Where is he?"
Sirius' wand was in his hand before he knew it. There was a bang and Snivellus was grasping his ears. Unfortunately, the ringing Sirius knew was in there would wear off after a couple hours. He got detention that evening. Worth it. Maybe the pillock would begin winding his neck in.
"But we were going on a Hot Chocolate Heist for Remus," Peter admonished. "It's a three man quest!"
"Tomorrow night, if he's not back yet," Sirius was extra angry at Snivellus now.
"Double choc yourself next time," Peter said.
Sirius poured extra lacewings in Peter and James' cauldron. They could've gone straight to Honeyduke's if someone hadn't ruined a young maiden's outerwear and had to spend all his allowance on an alternative.
That night he had to relabel ingredients with a new sticking charm since many others were flaking off. Not a small task, considering the vault of stores Professor Slughorn had. He sang Run Through the Jungle and thought about camping with his mates.
Another label was stuck on a jar of goblin teeth.
Were they supposed to use those sleeping bags Mr. Potter bought them?
A large, blue bottle was removed from a top shelf. Ooh, an entire litre of Veritaserum, how interesting.
They could use Snivellus' disgusting clothes as kindling.
After climbing down the ladder, Sirius peered his head around the door. Slughorn was dozing at his desk. Quickly nicking an empty phial with minimal clinking, Sirius carefully poured out a couple dozen millilitres of the clear liquid out before pocketing it.
He left Professor Slughorn's office an hour later, whistling, with a spring in his step.
"Mr. Black, it's two minutes until curfew, what are you still doing out?"
With a spin, Sirius turned to face his Transfiguration professor.
"Just finished detention with Sluggy."
"Professor Slughorn, Mr. Black. You're looking far too pleased with yourself to be coming from detention. Perhaps it didn't serve it's purpose?"
"No, no, lesson learned." Learn a quieter deafening spell.
McGonagall hmmed, "Care to tell me why you weren't you in any of your morning classes?"
Sirius shrugged, "Nah, don't care to."
"Mr. Black!"
"You should be more clear with your wording! We were checking on Remus."
Her face softened a bit, "While that is noble of you, it's not an excuse to miss class. Don't let it happen again next month. Now, I'll be taking ten points from Gryffindor."
"What for?"
"It is now thirty two minutes past nine, and you are out past curfew."
"But you kept me out!" True, he wouldn't have been able to make it back to the tower on time, even with shortcuts.
"I'll accompany you back to the Tower."
"You know, perhaps a date would make you less frosty. Isn't Kettleburn single?"
"Five more points, Mr. Black."
"What are you doing out anyway?"
"Making sure students are obeying the headmaster's curfew."
"But you were coming from the Defence office."
"I'll be assisting Amel with a demonstration this weekend."
Sirius paused slightly in his steps before catching up to the teacher, "Cor! You're coming to Duelling Club? Of all the weekends for poor Remus to miss out! Can you do the pointy hat trick?"
"One more toe out of line and you'll be suspended from attending this weekend."
By some miracle, Sirius was able to maintain a gentlemanly etiquette until he returned to the tower before bursting up the stairs. Wait until James and Peter heard dear old Professor Minnie McGonagall would be partaking in their weekend activities.
Saturday morning Remus ate nearly all of his breakfast. His joints and head ached, but were in far less pain than typical. It certainly hadn't been his worst moon ever, for which he was grateful. But that left him bored. The others were at Club, Madame Pomfrey was busy fussing over students with the lurgy, and he had nothing to read or write on. Not even his cat friend had come to visit. And how desperate did that make him? Craving the company of an animal?
Remus realised how deafeningly silent rooms were without James Potter occupying their space. And lonely. The small ball of energy took up a great deal of space, filling areas completely with his presence by his words, laughter, fiddling, tapping, and other general noisemaking. By lunchtime, Remus tried convincing the matron to allow him to return to his quarters, but she wouldn't listen. It would be tomorrow midday at the earliest before he could be sprung.
"Hngh!" a feather pillow deflated when he threw his head back.
Mid-afternoon, he was slightly spared when a familiar lightweight softly depressed the end of his mattress. Remus sat up and leaned down to lay an only slightly tremory hand on her head, "Hullo there. How've you been? Catting about, terrorising mice, staying warm?" She strongly protested to being lifted into his lap."Mrow!"
"I'm doin' all right, I s'pose, all things considered. No scratches this month. No bites. Just changing from boy to blood-thirsty beastie and back."
In the evening, James jumped on the bed next to him as Peter and Sirius pulled up chairs.
"Minerva McGonagall is a vixen!," James waved his hands emphatically, "Moony, you should have seen her! Windsor was like zhoo, but she was like ting, and he was all "Aguamenti", and she transfigured the water to tar, it was a bloody marvel to behold."
"Translation?" Remus looked at Peter.
"M-McGonagall disarmed Windsor in this morning's demonstration," he helpfully provided. Wow, after considering the stern, Scottish, darjeeling loving teacher, Remus hated he missed that.
"I just gave you the play-by-play!" James flopped backwards when Remus said as much.
"It was some lesson on duelling styles not only relying on the charms of hexes and curses, but rather other forms of magic as well," Sirius said, "Which, we're all fairly adept at already," he winked. "How you been?"
The cat leapt off Remus' lap and left then.
"No, kitty! Wait!-Bored."
"Brought the weekend paper, feel like reading?"
"Will one of you read it to me? My head still kinda hurts."
"My pleasure," James made a show of clearing his throat. "Sports first!"
After James finished the Quidditch headlines , he moved on, "...Therefore, one must consider whether or not Minister Jenkins can continue to be trusted to handle the current situation."
Sirius snorted, "'Situation'"
"And here it says, There were—nevermind," James fumbled, "Oh! Seven Reasons to Not Inbreed Owls. Number One—"
"They really need seven reasons?" Sirius asked as Remus said, "Wait, go back, you skipped."
"This is far more titillating, let me assure you," James fiddled with his glasses.
"You're lying," Remus accused and swiftly reached for the paper, which James kept away.
"Potter!"
"It's not happy."
"Neither is inbreeding owls," Remus rolled his eyes.
"Fine," James conceded, "It was...there were several attacks a couple nights ago."
"D-D-Death Eaters?" Peter asked what Remus wondered.
"Not exactly...small village on the West Coast had four murders and twelve children are missing. They were um...that is to say..."
Remus' gut sank.
"The paper says it was Fenrir Greyback's pack of werewolves."
Remus had no clue who that was. Or that British werewolves lived in packs. But he was an idiot. It made sense, not all werewolves had a father to live with.
"Ministry's offering a reward that will lead to the capture of Greyback."
Concerned chocolate eyes met Remus', "May I read the article on owl breeding now?"
"Sure," Remus' head swam.
Sunday morning, Remus had another visitor. While he was rereading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe (thanks to Peter grabbing it from their room), Professor Windsor stuck his head around the partition, "Oh, you're in the land of the living! Splendid. Mind if I pull up a chair?"
Subtly, Remus attempted to sit up taller, moving out of his pathetic position in bed, "Free real estate."
"Looks like you're doing a great deal better, considering this is the first time you've been awake when I've paid a visit."
"First decent moon in a while," Remus marked his place with a finger. "For once, had some decent thoughts in my head before the...erm...change, I think. Actually..." Remus trailed off.
"Go on, it's all right," Professor Windsor encouraged.
Remus wet his dry lips, "I actually remember bits and pieces, kind of like a dream. Which doesn't happen often at all."
"Have you noticed a pattern of your attitude before shifting affecting the degree of your side effects?"
"Well, it hasn't helped in the past. But there are still a few times this has happened," he shrugged, "It'd be more tolerable if it could be this way all the time."
"I'm sure it would be."
"I just recall thinking it absurd to attack myself, and I needed to be well to study, so I just sort of...fell asleep."
Professor Windsor raised an eyebrow, "Let me verify I'm understanding you correctly. You were able to make conscious decisions while in wolf form?"
Remus tried to recollect his hazy thoughts as vividly as possible, "Yeah. Yes, I did. Most of the brief pictures I have are of me sleeping, or trying to escape." It was strange, having someone he could talk to about these things. Strange, but not bad.
Professor Windsor leaned back in his chair with a sigh.
"What?" Remus asked.
"There's a lot the Ministry of Magic still doesn't know about werewolves. One of them being whether lycans can choose their prey. There's strong evidence they can scent and target a victim, but not have control of decisions. That could present a problem for court cases pleading an unsound mind if there's evidence restraint can be had to not kill."
"But it's not!" Remus said, heart pounding. "This was a rarity."
"Many Ministry workers don't have opportunity to speak with such kind and believable lycanthropes. Most are there out of necessity for the Registry, which puts no one in a good mood, or they've already been arrested. Besides I have a theory about Thursday night. It was a 'rarity': A lunar eclipse took place."
"So the moon was blocked by earth from the sun's light."
"Somehow giving you greater capacity to resonate with your human side. Quite fascinating, really."
The West Coast attacks were put in a whole new light. Remus' stomach lurched. He closed his eyes, when they opened he was vomiting into a basin his professor had somehow managed to summon in time.
"The werewolves...the attacks...it was premeditated?"
"So you've heard about that, eh? For so much carnage and the children to disappear. Not being taken after the sun rose as is often the case with pack abductions that take place during the full moon..."
"They were turned? All those children were cursed?" Remus' heart clenched tightly in his chest.
"More will probably survive than simply scenting out if the werewolves were able to decide to not over-maim them," he shook his head sombrely.
"Was I...Was I?..." Remus couldn't get the words out. Did the wolf that bit him know what he was doing?
"I'd have to check the date, but I believe it entirely plausible."
"Fuck," Remus said tiredly, forgetting his place.
Professor Windsor put a callused hand on his shoulder, "You have a good heart, Remus. Far better than not only others of your kind, but many wizards. I don't believe anyone counted on that, and they should have. I do apologise, but I must be going to the Great Hall for today's Club. If you wish to stop by my office for a tea, you're welcome any time. See you in class tomorrow."
With a smile, one of those damned, pity-filled smiles, the Defence teacher took his leave.
To escape his tumultuous thoughts, Remus reopened his book:
Mr. Beaver said, "Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the great Lion."
"Ooh" said Susan. "I'd thought he was a man. Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion"…
"Safe?" said Mr Beaver …"Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you… He's wild, you know. Not like a tame lion..."
The thirtieth of January Lily awoke giddy. A teenager! She was an actual teenager now!
The extra energy was put to use on her painfully bracing run with Alice and Ginny. After she'd showered and changed, she set her stockings out on her covers to put on.
"Happy Birthday!" Kathryn leapt on the bed, giggling.
"Mmph!" Cari half-heartedly threw a pillow their way, "Five more mns..."
"Shh," Lily smiled with a finger to her lips. Marlene joined them. As did, Dorcas?
"This is the party room, right?" Dorcas nudged Lily.
"Not until this evening," Kitty replied in a whisper, "I have it all planned out. Professor McGonagall's given us permission to ask the kitchens to make you another strawberry cake, your favourite—"
"We didn't ask permission last year," Dorcas pulled a face.
"We'll eat and play games in an empty classroom. Alice is supervising. That way, the Snape boy and Lupin can come if you like. But we'll have even better games and sweets in our room after, along with the opening of presents," she said pointedly.
Lily put on a splash of lipstick before going to breakfast. Many friends stopped by to wish her Happy Birthday. Several owls dropped off mail, which she rushed back to her room to open after lessons. How exciting! Receiving presents by post! She made it to class with seconds to spare.
When supper rolled around, Lily changed into muggle attire. Her bell bottom jeans hugged her so much more comfortably. Lily made her way with Marlene to the typically unused room which had been used for Remus Lupin's five course birthday dinner last year. In Transfiguration, Remus said he had too much homework that evening and he was sorry he couldn't attend her party. However, after asking again, cloyingly sweet as she could, he changed to an affirmative, apologising profusely he didn't have a present.
"Your presence is a present," she assured him earlier. "Sev can't come, unfortunately, he's caught some sort of flu and is with Madame Pomfrey."
"Yes, unfortunate," Remus nodded with his eyes fixed firmly forward.
"Potter didn't..." she questioned in a dangerous tone.
"I assure you James had nothing to do with his current condition."
"Then Black," she used process of elimination.
"...Might've locked him on top of the Clock Tower last night without a wand."
"Did he think about how cold it was?!"
"He doesn't seem to think much about anything before he does shite like this," he worried at his bottom lip.
Turning into the old classroom, she was happy to see Esther had accepted her last minute invitation from lunch. The other Gryffindor girls from her year, plus Mary McKinnon, were there as well. Balloons floated on invisible strings. A wooden table had been cleaned and set up with stew and sandwiches. Cats batted at dust bunnies. The room was made cosy with some blue flames lighting up the fireplace.
"Only Lupin isn't here yet," Marlene observed.
"Yeah, maybe not the brightest idea, inviting only one bloke. He'll probably be uncomfortable," Alice said.
"Oh, but he's smitten with her!" Kitty said wistfully.
"Is he now?" Dorcas asked.
"No," Lily said firmly, panicking slightly. She didn't want him to be uncomfortable. Or get the wrong impression. She did not have feelings for Remus Lupin.
"He came to visit ya in the 'ospital wing!" Cari reminded in a singsong voice.
"And the entire Quidditch team visited you! I don't see them pounding down our door waiting to sing you naughty ballads they've written."
"Although, if you wanted," Ginny wiggled her eyebrows, "I heard a good and dirty shanty over hols wherein I could just replace your name."
"Naff off," she laughed.
Remus came around a few minutes later, school robe slung over his bag which swung at his side.
"Oi, Lupin!" Cari greeted and kicked out the chair across from her for him to sit in.
"Evenin' ladies," he nodded his head awkwardly before taking the offered chair.
"We're just supping."
"There's lovely," he spooned some stew into a bowl. Okay, he didn't seem too ill at ease.
"Pleasure to see you know how to use utensils now, Lupin," Ginny jested.
"As if you're any better," Dorcas replied.
Lily laughed her way through an epic match of Hoppo Bumpo, passed Cari's football around in a game of Hot Potato, and a blindfolded makeover challenge.
"Bags on Lupin!" Mirin Russell had yelled.
"Um—Only if you're fine with no taste!" he chuckled but eyed Lily for help. In the end, Alice came to the rescue, "Lupin's going to judge."
Remus picked Lucienne Paus and Esther's team for the win.
"You're right, you have absolutely no taste at all!" Kitty decried at placing second with Marlene.
Lily could tell Remus wanted to get back to his homework, "Take the rest of the cake," she offered. "And mayhaps the chocolate pudding?" he raised an eyebrow. She shook her head and met his eye, "You deserve it, thanks again for coming."
"Happy to go where there's food."
"You mean, happy to go where there's chocolate."
"Fair enough. Happy Birthday, again," he conceded, jerkily picked up the bowl of viscous chocolate, and hurried off.