"Okay, this is bad. Really, really bad. Bad, bad, bad."

James watched as Remus paced the dormitory floor, biting his nails, tracking circles upon the threadbare rug. Sirius, for his part, was sprawled unconcernedly on the duvet, his hands propped under his chin, looking faintly amused by the whole ordeal. "Remus, is it bad, do you think?"

"Yes, Sirius," Remus snapped. "It's bad."

"Relax, Moony," said James, stepping in before Sirius could aggravate him further. "It'll work out. Breathe."

Remus stopped pacing and jerked towards James, an incredulous look on his face. An important factor that James had temporarily forgotten was this: He was every bit as aggravating as Sirius.

"It'll work out?" Remus repeated, disbelief in every syllable. "That's all you have to say? James, our friend is a rat! Illegally! He's missing, he can't change back, and the last time we saw him he was being chased by Mrs. Bloody Norris!"

"Remus, you're getting high-pitched. It's not like he doesn't know his way around the castle. Pete's not completely stupid, he'll come back here and we'll fix him."

"You're unbelievable!"

"Sirius, tell him he's overreacting."

Sirius shrugged. "Actually, I'm sort of with Moony on this one. This is pretty bad. I mean, completely and utterly hilarious, yes…but also bad."

Remus sunk onto his bed with a groan and buried his face in his hands. "We should never have let him do this. I should never have encouraged this. If we can't find him…if we can't fix him…we'll have to go to McGonagall. Or…or…Dumbledore." The hint of a whimper escaped though his fingers.

"It's not going to come to that," said James.

"But if it does, you'll all be expelled. Or worse, sent to Azkaban…because have I mentioned how completely illegal this is?"

"Hang on," said Sirius. "This was illegal? Why did no one tell me?"

Remus threw a pillow at him.

James sighed. He didn't blame Remus for being upset, but personally, he just didn't see the point. Things would work out. They always did. Any moment now, Peter would show up and they'd set things right. No harm, no foul.

"Stop it," said Remus suddenly, glaring at James.

"What? I'm not doing anything."

"Yes, you are. You are being lazily optimistic."

James glanced at Sirius, who merely shrugged.

"All right," said James turning back to Remus. "I'll bite. What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you just assume that everything is going to work out for you and don't bother to try and fix it when it's clearly not!"

"Remus, what would you like me to do? Panic? Run around the castle waving my wand shouting 'Accio Peter!'?"

"Oh, you know, we haven't tried that yet," said Sirius.

Remus made a frustrated noise. "Maybe I just want you to admit that we have a problem, instead of standing over there being all relaxed."

James laughed and spread his arms wide, a gesture of surrender. "We have a problem! I readily admit it. Peter's a rat. That's…concerning. But I don't see how panicking is going to make Peter appear any faster."

Remus grumbled something James couldn't quite make out.

"Look," said James, "Just take a few deep breaths, and any minute now Peter will show up and squeak his hellos."

And then, as if to illustrate this point, someone squeaked.

It was a very convincing squeak.

Too convincing…

They all turned swiftly towards the door, and there, perched on his back legs and looking at them all with twitching whiskers, was a rat. It gave another smug little squeak and ran into the room.

"Huh," said Sirius.

"I can't believe that worked," admitted James.

Remus, sitting with his head lifted slightly from his hands, mouth open, looked from James to Sirius to the rat and finally croaked, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, you're doing it wrong."

"Well, excuse me. It's not like we've ever studied nonverbal spells in classes."

"We became illegal Animagi without classes."

Remus opened his mouth, then shut it again. "…Touché."

Peter the rat was sitting patiently in the middle of the dormitory floor, nose twitching a bit, surrounded by James, Sirius, and Remus. They all looked down at him with mingled anticipation and just a touch of anxiety. They'd been at this for nearly an hour and Peter was still decidedly a rat.

"Fine," said Remus with a sigh. "You give it another go, then."

Sirius pointed his wand at Peter.

"What if we all try it together?" suggested James.

"Together?" said Sirius.

"Worth a shot. More power and all that. What do you think, Remus?"

"Oh, why not?"

They all pulled out their wands and pointed them at the rat, who eyed this sudden increase of wand-power as one might regard an orangutang with a cudgel.

"On the count of three, then," said James. "One — two — THREE!"

The rat gave a terrified squeak as a flash of bluish light exploded from all three wands. Then, abruptly, he was sprouting upwards, limbs splaying, tail shrinking…and there was Peter, the boy, sprawled on the dormitory floor, a crown of sweat across his brow. He wriggled his nose in irritation as Sirius and James let out a cheer and collapsed onto their beds.

"Bloody hell," squeaked Peter.

"Are you all right?" asked Remus.

"Yeah, yeah…I'm fine."

"But this is brilliant!" cried James, sitting up on his bed. "That's all of us. Three Animagi just in time for the next full moon!" At this, Remus bit his lip and sat down on his own bed. James could practically feel the waves of anxiety crashing over his friend. "Remus…" he began sternly.

"Are you sure you've thought this through?"

James and Sirius exchanged an exasperated look.

"It's just…even if you're all Animagi…I'm not. I'm a werewolf."

"You're a what?" cried Sirius, looking shocked. He turned to James. "Did you know about this?"

James grinned, but Remus did not.

"It's not a joke, all right? Look, when I transform…I don't have control over myself like you do. I can't say what the wolf will do, I'm not—"

"Do you mean to tell me," James interrupted, giving Remus his most indignant look, "that werewolves aren't sweet and cuddly?"

"James—"

"All this time, I've been deluded?"

Remus regarded him from across the room, his expression defeated, the tired look of one who knew he would not be able to withstand James's battering ram of good cheer. A sigh, a slight shake of the head, and Remus said: "Well, you know, there hasn't been much research completed as to the cuddliness of werewolves. Mostly on account of how everyone who tried ended up…well, dead."

"Ah," James nodded. "I see the hitch."

Well, I have it on good authority that werewolves are immensely cuddly," said Sirius with a scholarly sniff.

James and Sirius exchanged one of their patented Mischievous Looks, which Remus evidently recognized at once. "Don't," he said, eying them warily.

"Is that so?" said James, ignoring Remus. "Do you think we ought to test that theory?"

"Don't!"

"What sort of academics would we be if we didn't?"

"You're right, of course."

"DON'T—!"

They tackled him. A blur of two boys leaping from their beds and piling onto the third, they barreled into him and Remus yelped, laughing and shouting, "Get off, you two! Argh! Off!"

"So far—" gasped James, struggling to pin Remus's flailing arms back against the mattress, "—not so cuddly."

There was a thud as Remus kicked Sirius off the bed.

"A second trial then?" Sirius asked, his head popping up like a daisy. With an entirely undignified howl, he leapt back into the fray. This went on for several extended, tangled moments, full of elbows and angles and impressively creative swears, until somehow James had Remus's arms pinned behind his back, and Sirius was sitting triumphantly on his knees, and it was clear to everyone involved that Remus had unequivocally lost.

"Ergh," said Remus. "Two against one, no fair."

"Don't be a sore loser, Moony," James chided him.

"Right," said Sirius, reaching for Remus's wand on the bedside table with as much dignity as he could muster while remaining firmly planted on the boy's knees. "Locomotor mortis," he said, pointing the wand at Remus's legs, which stopped struggling immediately, having been subdued by a formidable leg-locker jinx.

"That's cheating!" cried Remus.

"Well, you kicked me!"

"You tackled me first! Honestly, if I wasn't a werewolf, I'd bite you, you — mmmnnph!"

Sirius had nonchalantly placed a hand over Remus's mouth. "So," he said to James, "I believe we were investigating the cuddliness of werewolves?"

"Indeed we were."

"Trial three?"

"Mmmmnph!" said Remus.

"Don't you all want to hear about my adventures as a rat?" interjected Peter, who was still sitting on the dormitory floor where he had transformed, watching this scene with a rather wounded expression on his face.

"The Ravenclaw common room?" repeated James, staring open-mouthed as Peter concluded his tale. "Are you sure?"

James had released Remus's arms at this exciting new information, but Sirius was still perched proudly — and unnecessarily — on Remus's jinxed knees.

"Positive," said Peter. "What else could it have been?"

"And you just…slipped right in?"

"Yup."

"Do you realize what this means?" said James faintly. "With Pete's Animagus, we have access to the entire castle. We can pull off…anything! We could…we could fill the Slytherin common room with marshmallows!"

"…Why would we do that?" said a skeptical Remus.

"Because we can!"

"Yes, but why marshmallows?" Remus pushed himself up onto his elbows as best he could despite his captivity. "Surely there are much more interesting sticky substances we could use."

James beamed at him. Peter too was looking incredibly pleased with himself, and James couldn't blame him. Navigating the entire school by the interior plumbing? That was seriously cool, and he told him as much. Peter's face nearly split from the stretch of his grin.

"So now we just need to get you up to scratch on the transforming bit."

At this, Peter's grin faded into a dismal sigh. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

"We'll figure it out. And we know how to un-rat you now, so you just keep practicing. Oh, this is brilliant."

"I wonder who snitched on Dearborn," mused Sirius, whose expression had grown darker when Peter brought up that particular bit of conversation he'd overheard.

James frowned. He'd been quickly distracted by Peter's tales of the Ravenclaw common room and the prospect of brilliant pranks-to-be, but the idea of their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher being ousted by the school governors was not a pleasant one. Dearborn was by far the best — and most interesting — teacher they'd had to date. Though James and Sirius already considered themselves excellent duelers (on account of all the hours spent dueling each other for sport), they both agreed that they'd learned more from him than the previous four professors combined.

And then, of course, there was the uncomfortable prickle of a memory from the forest, when James had overheard Dearborn talking about You-Know-Who. Voldemort, he corrected himself firmly. Dumbledore called him by his name, according to Dearborn, so James would too.

He's out there, Dearborn had said, building an army…

"It was probably a Slytherin," said James at last. "All the more reason to fill their common room with stinksap."

"Is that really the best you can do?" said Remus.

"Well, what are your brilliant ideas then?"

"I'll get back to you," Remus sighed, fidgeting uncomfortably under Sirius's weight. "Sirius, will you please get off and unlock my legs? They're getting numb."

"No. Those legs can't be trusted. I think I'm getting a bruise."

"Again, you tackled me. Give me my wand."

"No!"

"Sirius—"

"This is your punishment."

"For what?"

"For being a worrywart. And for kicking me."

Remus made an exasperated noise and fell back on the pillows. "This is harassment. Peter, help?"

"Don't look at me," said Peter. "I can't remember the counter-jinx."

"Good man, Pete," said Sirius. "Always on our side."

"But it is almost time for dinner," Peter pointed out, "and I haven't eaten anything but crumbs all day. I'm starving. Can we head down?"

"Yeah, all right." Sirius stood with a luxurious yawn and stretched his arms. James hopped up as well, and they all headed towards the door.

"Hello?"

James and Sirius both stopped and turned in unison to see Remus, still trapped by the leg-locker jinx, scowling from the bed. "Oh, did you want to come?" said James in mock surprise.

"Very funny." Remus pointed at his still-jinxed legs. "Take it off."

"Take what off, Remus?" gasped Sirius in a scandalized voice. "That's rather forward, don't you think?"

Remus glowered at them, red-faced, his arms crossed against his chest.

This image was too much for the boys. They burst out laughing.

"He's adorable when he's hating us, isn't he?" said James, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Like a grumpy, spiteful cherub," agreed Sirius. He pointed his wand Remus and said, "Finite Incantatum. Come on then, grumpy."

"I don't know why I put up with you two," Remus complained as he followed them out of the dormitory and down the spiral stairs.

"Because you love us," said James. "Because we're — ow!"

Remus knocked the two boys' heads together, their skulls colliding with a loud crack.

"You were saying?" said Remus.

"Okay." Sirius rubbed his temple gingerly. "Conclusion to our studies: Werewolves? Not so cuddly."

"Watch out, Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Here comes Sirius Black."

Peter's new Animagus form had provided James with exactly what he needed: a project. For the past three years, his brain had been churning and whirring over the singular problem of how to become an Animagus. Now that they'd achieved it, he was feeling uncomfortably aimless. Quidditch was ever on his mind, of course, but as the month grew colder and icier, Madam Hooch banned them from practicing outdoors. Some nonsense about hypothermia and frostbite. Trivial things, James thought, but McGonagall had held firm when he'd pressed her on it.

And so, a few nights following Peter's successful un-ratting, James found himself wandering towards the library. The boys had spent the previous evening plotting the best uses for their friend's new and advantageous Animagus, and they'd come up with a myriad of brilliant prank ideas, but they had made less progress on the practical bits. The castle was huge and sprawling and its plumbing labyrinthine at best. What they needed was a map.

The library was occupied by sparse pockets of students, tucked into corners or huddled together over furls of parchment. Outside, the wind blew a fretwork of snow across frosty panes. James paused, gazing out the window, his mind's eye floating across the grounds, over Hogsmeade, and lingering outside the Shrieking Shack. They were so close.

Over the years, James had spent an almost unconscionable amount of extracurricular time in the school library, drumming up book after book on Transfiguration, so he figured he knew the place pretty well. However, this time his hunt was proving more difficult than anticipated. What he wanted were some old Hogwartian manuscripts, perhaps some building plans, anything to give him a hint on how to navigate centuries of structural mishmash. He explored the stacks endlessly, running his finger over crumbling spines, occasionally removing a tome, sending eddies of dust swirling, but in the end he returned them all to their shelves, disappointed.

Eventually Madam Pince stopped him and demanded to know what he was looking for. "Just browsing," James answered cagily, his usual retort. Then he remembered there was nothing intrinsically illegal about being interested in school history. "Actually, could you point me in the direction of anything related to — er — Hogwarts plumbing? It's for History of Magic."

Madam Pince eyed him suspiciously but directed him towards a dusty corner at the back of the library. He thanked her cheerfully and ambled off. This bit of the library was unsurprisingly deserted — how many students were interested in old pipes? — but as he rounded the corner, he was met with a nasty shock: a tangle of limbs, pressed up against the shelves, a twist of red hair. It was Lily. And that stupid prick Nott. And they were snogging.

James observed this clinically for a moment, trying to quell the wave of fury that was rising inside him. Nott. What did she see in him?

He cleared his throat. Nothing happened.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," he said loudly. The reaction was almost comical: They wrenched apart, a thud of bodies against books. Lily turned sharply towards him, her face covered in rosy, embarrassed shock. "This is a hallowed space," James continued, a smirk creeping over his face at her expression. "A place of learning."

"Did you want something?" Nott demanded, a touch aggressively. He had the faint vestiges of lipstick around his mouth. James considered how much fun it would be to punch him in the jaw.

"A book, actually. Heard a rumor I could find one here."

Lily merely brushed her hair out of her face and said lightly, "Lots of books here. You really need something from this section?" She turned towards the shelf and grabbed a book at random. "You need An Illustrated History of Hogwarts' Interior Plumbing?"

"Yeah, actually," said James, taking the book from her hand and examining it with interest, momentarily distracted from his burning jealousy. After a beat, he grew conscious of her gaze and glanced up. Lily was watching him with raised eyebrows, a skeptical look on her face. Nott was scowling.

"That all?" asked Lily, a picture of impatience.

James grinned. "Well, if you and your gentleman caller could just shift to the left a little…" He shimmied between them so he was standing very close to her; behind him, he could hear Nott's jaw at work in agitation. James reached over her shoulder, snatched a book at random, and waved it before them both, a smug smile on his face. "There we are."

Lily glared. "Great. You can leave now."

He took a step back and eyed the two of them with what he hoped was a look of amused condescension. "Snog on, little lovebirds. Although, in all fairness, shouldn't you be deducting points from yourself, oh noble prefect? For, ah, indecent conduct?"

"Oh, piss off."

"Good to know justice is blind…like love, evidently."

And he loped away, books tucked under his arm, not feeling nearly as cocky as his relaxed gait implied. Once he was safely obscured by the stacks, he paused, listening for the horrible sound of snogging to recommence. Instead, he heard Nott grumble: "He seems to enjoy bothering you."

A light laugh from Lily. "Oh, he bothers everyone."

"I don't like him."

Another laugh. "Good, welcome to the club. Dues are a Sickle each, and if we get enough members, we're going to start handing out little badges. Now come on, we have some very important studying to do. I thought we were making excellent progress…"

James made a face and stalked out of the library.

By the time he returned to Gryffindor Tower, James had worked himself into a really foul mood and was fully prepared to fester in it all evening. The common room was crowded with students, but he didn't see his friends anywhere. They were probably up in the dormitory. They usually spent their evenings there as the full moon grew closer, so Remus could moan in private. James, however, needed to mope, and so he collapsed face-first onto a sofa with a mournful sound.

Love, he mused, was undoubtedly the worst thing anyone had ever invented…ever. In fact, it occurred to him in his present pathetic, miserable, horizontal condition that the entire construct of romantic love was an elaborate ruse designed to make a fool of him specifically. Why else would he suddenly be so completely infatuated with a girl he hadn't thought twice about for years?

Well, said the tiny voice of logic that still lingered in his adolescently-addled brain, you did give several thoughts to her before, you just had the wrong word for it…

James scowled at this thought. He couldn't decide if it was more annoying to have love suddenly thrust upon him or for it to have been there all along and he too foolish to notice.

But it didn't matter, because love was rotten and useless and created to make a mockery of him, and he would have no part in it, none whatsoever! Lily could snog the brains out of that boring old Ravenswot as much as she liked. It didn't matter to him. Not one little bit. Not one!

"…James?"

James, who had been lying with his face squashed into the corner of the upholstery, looked up, his glasses skewed over one eye. "Mmph?"

The blurry image of Alodie Blunt appeared hazily before him, and he adjusted his glasses to see her giving him a rather concerned look.

"Are you quite all right?"

James considered this question for a long moment — indeed rather longer of a moment than was perhaps socially acceptable — and then he considered Alodie, who Sirius had suggested fancied him. She was attractive, with a pretty face and pretty blond hair, and…and Lily doesn't like her at all.

James brushed the couch-lint off his face and peered up at her. "D'you want to go out with me?"