A/N:
Quite a long chapter this time, I couldn't find a natural place to stop it.
As ever, I hope you enjoy.
The seasons always touched Hogwarts in different ways. Summer turned it empty and relatively silent, the students gone away for the holidays, most of the professors gone as well. The classrooms silent, the Forbidden Forest blossoming under the bounty that spring brought to its groves. Autumn brought life back to the castle, ironic as that sounded, hundreds of students refilling the corridors, classrooms and dormitories with the laughter, life and sound so crucial to the atmosphere of the magical school. On the grounds, autumn brought falling leaves and shed branches, the detritus of the season of preparation. It brought pumpkins and fresh apples in the orchards, it brought the sense of mischief that uniquely belonged to the autumnal months. Winter, when it came, brought with it a kind of ethereal stillness. It turned the castle into the inside of a snow globe, soft white flakes dusting every outside surface, creating snowdrifts so deep most lessons outside (usually only Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures) were cancelled for common sense, quidditch practice always continued because pride and honour was at stake. Winter at Hogwarts was a uniquely magical time, filled with the promise of Christmas and the joyful festivities of the Yuletide, with that glorious break from lessons (even if students stayed behind in the quieter castle). Winter was always the time of calm, of that brief relaxation before the chaos that inevitably came with spring. The season of rebirth was the one that affected Hogwarts the most unusually. Instead of fun in the grounds in the first glorious sunny days, it heralded in envious looks of students forever bound to the library, lessons or study groups. It echoed the chaos of last minute revison, unconscionable levels of homework dumped on already struggling students, of fragile tempers, and naturally of pranks executed on anyone and everyone just for a bit of light-hearted fun to draw minds away from the crippling pressure of passing final exams that only seemed to get more torturous with every passing year. Spring at Hogwarts - even without the added bonus of spying on the Slytherin students who were undoubtedly going to be up to something - was therefore the perfect distraction for Rose and for Lily. Lily could drown herself in homework and exam preparation, and Rose could half-heartedly keep up with her homework (Marauders had reputations to uphold), prank indiscriminately (professors were favourite targets during those crucial spring months), and spend a fair amount of time either running so they couldn't get detention, or being given detention. In terms of sheer workload, there wasn't a busier time at Hogwarts. It was just a small mercy that they were sixth years, and thus didn't have to sit anything so important as OWLs or NEWTs.
It was a little over an hour after their departure from Cokeworth that the Knight Bus made its predictably chaotic arrival outside the Hogwarts gates. The bus was about half full of students who had wanted to avoid the long trip back on the Hogwarts Express, and had paid the price for a relatively quick (although not entirely in compliance with health and safety recommendations) arrival at school. Rose's little corner of the bus had quickly filled with the few students that could actually tolerate being in the Marauders' company for long stretches of time. Peter had been the very first stop after Cokeworth, the rat animagus quickly and quietly caught up on the current situation. After Peter, most of their acquaintances followed soon after. Frank reunited with Alice in a fashion that needn't be described, while Benjy merely nodded at Marlene before continuing his conversation with his best friend Caradoc Dearborn in the row behind them. Several third and fourth year students took one look at the Marauders and legged it up to the upper level - no ease of exit being worth such close proximity to the notorious pranking team. For that hour, their conversation had been relatively relaxed, no subject of any real substance, glossing over the stay in Cokeworth with little more than a shudder and a mention of Petunia's wedding before pestering the others for details of their holidays. Nevertheless, they arrived at Hogwarts mostly unscathed by Ernie's abysmal driving and the lack of hurtful topics of conversation, picking themselves up off the floor in what had to be the perfect metaphor for life. It threw them on the ground, made them slide on their faces, and they just picked themselves up and got right on with things as if they weren't smarting from the fall.
Sirius handed her down from the bus, smiling that gorgeous smile that said, despite everything, he was glad to be back somewhere he considered very close to his home. Rose looked up at the imposing sight before her, breath taken away by the sight as much as ever. From the gate, there was a long winding path up to the castle itself, the many towers and turrets looking down over all it surveyed. Even now, several owls fluttered about the towers, delivering their burdens to the grateful students who probably hadn't been able to get away for the fortnight's holiday. Their luggage disappeared from behind them in the way that only the Hogwarts house elves could ever have achieved, freeing the students up for the long but refreshing walk in the spring air back to Hogwarts and the beginning of the spring term that awaited them. Rose felt James come up to stand beside them, Remus and Peter flanking him. "You know" James began, that wonderful, familiar mischief brightening his voice (Rose was relieved, for most of the day, that voice had been absent, replaced with a hollowness they all echoed). "A mature person would probably walk calmly back up to the castle. Take their time, not do anything impulsive."
"Thank Merlin that we're above all that" Remus commented cheerfully, rolling his eyes as he caught Rose's gaze. She smirked back, knowing exactly what James had wanted and quite prepared to give in. It was just what the doctor ordered anyway, a bit of typical Marauderishness to get them back into their spirits.
"Last one to the castle is a hinkeypunk!" Rose called, dashing away before James could protest that it wasn't in the rules. As if the rules ever mattered to Marauders. She could hear Lily's surprised laughter drifting on the air behind her, but she didn't turn to see what had made her twin giggle like that. Of course, she had her suspicions. At times like these, when competitiveness was brought into the Marauder sphere, there was no room for concepts like fair play, sportsmanship, or chivalry. It was every Marauder for themselves. Poor James had probably been fouled in some suitably embarrassing but not harmful way by either Sirius (who would have regarded such tactics as a matter of course) or Remus (who actually never missed an opportunity to be a little shit), and thus would have caused Lily's laughter.
Rose had never been one of life's natural sprinters, so it came as absolutely no surprise when, at a little over a third of the way to the castle, she was overtaken by Sirius - who didn't even seem to be phased by the exertion. He turned so that he was running backwards for a moment, blew her an exaggerated kiss with an equally irritating wink, and shot off back up the drive to the castle. Rose briefly imagined employing an innocent tripping jinx, but merely smiled at his back and allowed Remus to fall into step beside her. Even though Sirius came first by a landslide, Rose was quietly cheerful with coming tied second (Remus was far too much of a gentleman to do any less than share second with her), especially since Peter squeaked in third and James finished a rather humiliating last.
"And you, the quidditch captain" Sirius teased, throwing an arm around his shoulders as they strolled in through the oak door to the entrance hall.
"Sod off" James growled, never the most gracious of losers, but he didn't throw off Sirius' arm, so they all knew he wasn't as cross as he pretended to be. Rose stepped up and placed an obnoxious kiss to his cheek, winking at Sirius' mock-outraged expression. James glowered, eyes promising retribution, and Rose didn't have the smallest doubt that he would have followed through had it not been for the person standing at the base of the grand staircase.
McGonagall, as imposing as ever in her emerald robes, stood before them, looking almost relieved to have them back in no worse a condition than when they left. "Welcome back."
"Minnie!" Sirius cried, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "My dearest, my own. How torturous that month was of our parting! How sweet to be in your arms again!"
"Don't push it, Mr Black" McGonagall warned, but the harsh tone was belied by the way her lips twitched and her eyes glittered with the affection only the Marauders seemed to engender.
"Besides, you tosser" James smirked, getting back into the swing of Marauder behaviour easily. "We all know that it is I that truly holds the heart of our glowering goddess."
"Forgive them, Professor" Remus offered dryly, eyes sparkling with mirth and mischief the way they always should. "We think they were dropped a lot as children. And then there's the serious head injuries from this." The werewolf waited just a brief second, enjoying the anticipation, then Filch's downstairs broom closet burst open, the various mops, brooms, brushes and other assorted cleaning paraphernalia hurtling out only to start beating the two black haired Marauders around the head. At a time when Rose should really have been sympathetic to their plight, she instead was doubled over, clutching her sides, and trying to remember to breath between great gasps of breathless laughter. It really didn't help that the two morons were trying to bat their attackers away with their bare hands, cursing Remus in between (un)manly noises of pain and protest. It as when Remus detected the words 'sadistic bastard' that he stilled. His eyebrows raised momentarily, a considering frown appearing on his face. Then he flicked his wand again and let the brooms continue doing as they had been.
Remus offered Rose his arm, gallant as ever, his eyes laughing as much as his face remained stoic. "I would apologise, but they deserve it."
"Of course they do" Rose agreed, gleefully blowing a kiss as Sirius as they passed to go upstairs. McGonagall favoured them with a brief smile, inclining her head as they passed. Their transfiguration professor would, they were both fully aware, wait a suitable amount of time for the two morons to remember they were wizards, and then either help them out should that take too long, or dryly comment that it shouldn't have taken them as long as it did if they should happen to actually remember.
The good thing about going up to the Gryffindor tower with Remus (aside from the obvious fact that he was her best friend and she loved him and his company) was the fact that he was a Gryffindor prefect and knew the password which had naturally been changed only that morning. "Pickwickian" Remus intoned gravely, the sly grin he gave her letting Rose know that her bookish friend would be reading that as soon as they were admitted entrance. Rather unsurprisingly, the common room was all but deserted. It was a glorious spring day at Hogwarts, the grounds awash in sun, and the final hours of the holidays did always entice the student population out of doors to enjoy every spare moment of freedom and fun in the sun that they could. Else they would all turn into library haunting vampires, who flinched at light and loud noise, hiding the cheerful sun with heavy drapery. However, this emptiness suited Rose perfectly. Remus too, judging by the way he immediately claimed a squishy armchair and settled in with (just as Rose had predicted) his copy of the Pickwick Papers. She favoured him with a quick glance, knowing that nothing could or would disturb him unless he wanted it to. A circumstance which, once again, suited her perfectly. A flick or two of her wand, and a well placed summoning spell, had her ideal afternoon assembled within the work of almost a moment. She stretched out on her favourite of the Gryffindor red couches (which they would really have to stop moving to other places in the castle just so they could always have a comfy Gryffindor themed seat), allowing herself to begin to relax. Last night, listening to Bowie had been impossible, but now - when things were more settled, more grounded, or at least less raw and the wound while still fresh wasn't at the forefront of her mind (which made a part of her feel like a lousy daughter) - well, now was the perfect time. She was relaxed, back at Hogwarts, and able to start to enjoy the things that gave her life please and security without questioning them. So, when Bowie began to sing of the 'god awful small affair to the girl with the mousy hair' it was exactly what she needed. That happiness which came from losing herself in her favourite song, with its well known words and beautiful melody. It carried her off in a sea of perfection, and she was whole and happy again, young and innocent again - truly and uncomplicatedly happy in ways that everyone must be with their favourite things about them.
Lessons began again the next morning. Most students were being eased in with first period Charms, History of Magic, Potions and the like. The sixth year students weren't quite so fortunate, depending on your opinion. Exactly five seconds before the bell rang to signal the start of the lesson, the Marauders strolled in to the Transfiguration classroom, winked at the frustrated glare they received from their beloved professor, and took their seats at the back of the classroom. McGonagall waited for the bell to finish ringing, then cleared her throat at the front of the room. A couple of Slytherin students carried on talking, ignoring the pointed looks they were receiving from the rest of the class. Disrespecting Professor McGonagall was the last thing most of the class would ever consider doing. James half-stood from his seat, Sirius shaking his head and touching his side to stall him before he could do something that he might potentially regret. "Excuse me" Sirius called, voice carefully polite and betraying none of the anger his eyes were shooting at the idiots who couldn't shut the hell up. One of the lesser talented (yet still undeniably puritanical) Slytherin students (a wizard by the name of Kentich) glanced up and sneered at Sirius.
"I have to don't listen to anything a blood traitor has to say."
"Perhaps not" Sirius allowed, in a rare agreeable mood. It wouldn't last long in the face of these idiots. "But you do have to listen to Professor McGonagall. She's trying to teach you something which will, with any luck, be so incomprehensible to you that you will enjoy yet another protracted spell in sixth year."
Kentich sneered at McGonagall, his lip curling. The insult he was about to utter was so palpable in the classroom that several students already winced in sympathy for the punishment he would incur. But the thing about Sirius was that he had never been accused of being patient. He didn't so much as let one syllable begin to form on Kentich's tongue before a jet of rather jolly orange light flew at the Slytherin's head. Had that been all, Kentich would have escaped from his own incompetence with little more than a severe case of tongue swelling (right out of his mouth and growing down his chest like a horrific new type of beard), but alas the insult was intended for McGonagall, and the Marauders were rather fond of their transfiguration professor. Sirius' tongue swelling curse was joined with James's inflamed pustules curse, Peter's bat bogey hex, and Remus' silencing charm (because Remus always believed in giving people the benefit of the doubt, and because it mutated when cast alongside the swelling curse implemented by Sirius to create a tricky sense of dumbness until Madame Pomfrey decided to give him the antidote). Rose herself had employed a complicated little spell of the Marauders own invention. What the spell did, when properly cast (which Rose would be insulted if anyone imagined it wouldn't be), was to instantly shrink the undergarments of the victim, and make it appear that itching powder had been upended into said undergarments for a little more than a week, give or take for the exact strength put into the spell. It was perhaps a little juvenile for the circumstances, but McGonagall still had to punish Kentish for his disrespect, and it would be cruel to make her have to go light on him just because the Marauders had cursed him into a slug.
McGonagall almost seemed to smirk in an almost Marauder fashion at the five of them before her usual stern demeanour reasserted itself. "Much as I appreciate your Gryffindor chivalry, I am more than capable of dealing with situations like this on my own" McGonagall lectured, Lily sending them a shocked and almost horrified glare as accompaniment. "Mr Dearborn, Mr Fenwick, if you could both take Mr Kentich to the Hospital Wing and then return to class." Benjy and Caradoc all but leapt into action, carelessly hauling the near insensate Kentich to his feet. "Have Madame Pomfrey inform him when he wakes, that since he feels it is perfectly reasonable to ignore me in class, he will be joining me at eight o'clock at night in detention for the next two weeks." Benjy's sun bright grin said in no uncertain terms just how glad he would be to make sure that message was passed on.
When the door closed behind the trio, Kentich's legs dragging on the ground outside in the corridor, McGonagall crooked her finger at the five Marauders. As it would have been hypocritical of them to ignore her after just reinforcing the general rule that nobody ever had the right to do so, they strolled (or in James's case strutted) up to her desk, matching innocent smiles on their faces. They weren't innocent by any stretch of the imagination, but it was unthinkable for a Marauder to act guilty, even and perhaps especially when caught red handed. McGonagall turned to the rest of the class, a thoughtful frown on her face. "Read chapter twelve of your textbooks, the theory will help in the rest of the lesson." There wasn't a single peep asking why the Marauders didn't have to read the theory - their reputations as the top students in the subject were well established and proven with undeniable fact.
"You wanted to see us, Professor?" James asked, tone laced with almost flawless confusion.
McGonagall offered him a look that clearly said he wasn't fooling anyone. "I have to give you detention, it won't be fair otherwise, and Slughorn will come whining to me asking why my students get preferential treatment over his."
"Which isn't at all like what he does with his Slug Club" Sirius muttered sarcastically, turning an angelic smile on their professor when she turned a raised eyebrow on him.
"Regardless" McGonagall returned evenly. "One each, served together, ought to be sufficient for the offense of duelling in my class. However, should you do so again, the punishment will be necessarily more severe."
"You wound us by the very suggestion that we would do such a thing again" James staggered back, hand clutched to his chest.
"And you're not fooling anyone, Prongs" Remus muttered, elbowing him none too gently in the side. "You have our most insincere apologies for our reprehensible prior conduct, Professor" he said, loud enough for the class to hear. After all, that was exactly how they had ended many such chats in the past.
"Don't believe a word we just said, Professor" Rose echoed, nudging Peter to get him to unfreeze from his near permanent terror of McGonagall.
"What they said" the rat animagus squeaked, casting a longing look back towards his chair. Even in this, Peter was cognizant of the reputation he had to maintain; the timid, easily scared, almost spineless student, following along in the wake of the more talented students. Frankly, Peter might not be quite as talented or confident as the other Marauders, but the truth was he was actually a very talented wizard, and not just because he was already an animagus. He was brilliant also at reading the expectations of the room, to know what the weaknesses were and then play to them. He was utterly invaluable. The Marauders were all brilliant in their own ways.
McGonagall favoured them with one more almost-smile hiding behind a frown. "Get back to your seats. Oh and Potter?" James turned back, eagerness in his eyes. "You'll enjoy what we're looking at today." The beaming grin James wore for the rest of the lesson was testament to the fact that when anyone said McGonagall didn't have favourites, they were lying through their pearly white teeth.
In a twist that absolutely nobody who knew anything about James Potter's more clandestine operations or incessant pestering of their transfiguration professor a few years before could ever have seen coming (note the very heavy sarcasm), the lesson was to focus on the rather tricky particulars of human to animal transfiguration. They had actually been working on the basics and theory of the process for most of the year, but had yet to actually sink their teeth into the practical side of the magic. Well, officially that was. The Marauders, of course, were already quite expert at the basics of human transfiguration. They'd had to be, as it was a crucial component in understanding the process of becoming an animagus - something they had achieved quite early in their fifth year of schooling. McGonagall was lecturing them on selecting a complimentary animal - nothing stupid like a fish which would lead to complications they would rather avoid this early in the term (said with a pointed look towards a Hufflepuff renowned for his love of fishies) - and how best to adapt that animal to the structure of whatever part of the body they selected for the transformation. "Such magic" McGonagall continued, her hard stare fixing on all the more impulsive students in her class. "Is exceeding difficult to begin to cast, let alone master. Which is why the rest of the term will be focused on this branch of magic." Steely eyes swept the class once more. "Needless to say, this will be mentioned in your exams, both practical and written. There is always more to learn, deeper understanding of this subject to attain. So" here she fixed her impenetrable gaze on the unrepentant Marauders. "None of you should make the mistake of failing to attend class. You may very well miss something important, potentially very important to your studies and future career prospects." With a final severe look, and another pointed comment to keep their knowledge of the theory at the forefront of their minds, McGonagall stepped back and allowed them to begin their practical learning.
One might think that, after an invitation to show off like the one McGonagall just threw at the Marauders' collective feet, they would immediately leap upon the prospect. But that was the last thing that they would do. The Marauders, you see, were not merely just show offs, glad for any excuse to demonstrate their remarkable magical capabilities. They also liked to gather as much information as they possibly could, even in a controlled setting such as the classroom. Demonstrating right off the bat that they had superior knowledge of this extremely advanced branch of transfiguration would do no good. Not in their long schemed plans. How could they possibly know which other members of their class were advanced for their age, had knowledge above what an ordinary student could be expected to know? The Marauders' knowledge was easily explainable by their sheer stubborn determination to do anything and everything they could to make full moons easier on their compatriot. For anyone else - from their point of view - this kind of knowledge was a big, flashing arrow pointing at suspicious students (or even, if the student happened to be from the Slytherin house or a distinguished bloodline, possible future Death Eater recruits). It was also a brilliant way to enjoy a few moments (or ten minutes) worth of pure, unadulterated enjoyment at the expense of their classmates.
Rose reflected solemnly on the dangers of giving anyone so vain as some of their classmates mirrors. While for most of the class all the mirrors could show was how incredibly imbecilic they looked, straining to make something change on any area of their anatomy. For the several, for the lack of a better term, self-absorbed occupants of the class, the presence of a mirror in front of them wasn't really the excuse to get down to the tricky transfiguration that McGonagall might have wished for. At the back of the class, Rose could see the reflections (in her own mirror, of course, subtle spying was a cornerstone of observation) of Mulciber and Avery admiring themselves - undoubtedly because they were both so cruelly handsome that nobody else in their right mind ever would. A few desks across from poor Mary, one of the remaining Diggory brothers (Alec) was primping, checking his eyebrows were trimmed and that stray nose hair had finally stopped growing for no apparent reason - the unapparent reason, Rose recalled cheerfully was that he had irritated Sirius with his constant battle to be the best looking student in their year, and Sirius felt that one tiny blemish (which he himself was lacking) would be just enough to drive the pompous twit out of his mind for however long it might last. Unfortunately, the most vain of the vain idiots in her class were seated to her right. James and Sirius both smirked into their mirrors, lounging back with identical indolent grace. Every few moments, James (because he still thought it made him look cool, which wasn't exactly untrue) would reach up and ruffle his hair, grinning winningly at his reflection and then inevitably glancing across to Lily to see if she had noticed him. The poor, poor fool. Lily, of course, was too busy trying to transfigure herself to even glance towards the Marauders (that, for the entire class, would come in time, when they'd all gotten so fed up with the whole process that they needed to make themselves feel better by checking that the Marauders couldn't do it either). So, all James's efforts to be cool, windswept and handsome pretty much fell through. Sirius, on the other hand, didn't need to do anything to himself to increase his attractiveness or general sense of being utterly good looking. Rose was perfectly aware that she was incredibly biased in this fact, but it was also a universal truth, so bias played no role in the statement. In fact, the only thing he appeared to be doing was smirking at himself as if his reflection and he shared the secret that he was good looking. Those gorgeous grey eyes flickered to the side, fixing unerringly on Rose while a self-satisfied smirk twitched the corners of his kissable lips. 'Hi' he mouthed, catching her red-faced at staring.
'Hi' she mouthed back, cheeks prickling with the pindrop blush of the redhead. His eyes snapped towards McGonagall, checking she was still occupied in apparently answering some important correspondence, another slow smirk stretching his lips. A gentle hand smoothed a wayward strand of red hair behind her ear, Sirius just staring at her for a moment. "What?" she whispered, her eyes performing the same check Sirius' just had.
"Nothing" he whispered back, the very image of indolent handsomeness. Rose raised an eyebrow, not buying that for a second. He shrugged, as if to say she couldn't blame him for trying. "You're beautiful."
Rose blushed, knowing the futility of hiding her face from view. "Prongs" she called, leaning back a little in her seat. At times like this, McGonagall tended to leave the Marauders to their own devices, she had more than enough on her hands with the other students.
"What?" James wondered, ruffling his hair for about the fifteenth time.
"Siri needs your glasses."
The renowned quidditch captain rolled his eyes. "Leave me out of whatever weird flirtatious thing Pads insists on doing. For my sanity, if for no other reason."
"You take all the fun out of life, James Potter" Rose smirked, hoping that might be enough to wipe Sirius' unusual mood. He was at least professional enough not to be so flirty in class. Most of the time. Clearly today was not one of those days.
"Besides, he knows it is true" Sirius whispered, not bothered or stymied at all by Rose's attempt at a diversion. "You are beautiful. You always have been and always will be."
"And you are an irredeemable flirt" Rose murmured, no heat at all in her tone.
Sirius favoured her with a brilliant smile. "You love me anyway."
"Merlin help me" Rose admitted "but I do." Sirius grinned widely, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek.
The lesson was approaching the end of it's second hour when the right sounds began to reach the Marauders ears. That faint, tell-tale tone of defeat and capitulation. That faint scent of blood (metaphorically speaking) hanging on the air.
"This would be so much easier if I was a metamorphmagus" Dorcas complained, after the twenty sixth attempt to transfigure her hand into a lioness's paw.
"Tell me about it" Emmeline sighed, frowning at her stubbornly human nose. The Marauders shared a look. Finally this was sounding promising. The time might be ripe for a little demonstration - a reminder that the Marauders were, after all, the most talented and obnoxious wizards and witch in their year (possibly in the entire school).
"If it was easy, we'd all do it" James sang, the Marauder at his most annoying.
"Prattle on, sunshine" Benjy growled, Caradoc looking mutinous (and still a bit constipated, Sirius did have a point) beside him. "We'll bloody well do something to you in a minute."
"Language" Remus sighed, already resigned to being ignored. Rose patted his arm in a conciliatory fashion, grinning at the look he sent her. It was one of his best 'do you have to encourage them?' glares, and the answer to his glare was abundantly obvious. She smiled winningly back, winking at the long-suffering sigh that ruffled his hair.
"Hold on just a cotton picking second" Edgar Bones (Hufflepuff quidditch captain and some time quidditch commentator) said, turning around in his chair to glare at the Marauders. "Why are you lot being so smug?" James raised an eyebrow - they were Marauders, what other reason did they need for smugness? "And don't give us the Marauder defence" Edgar continued, reading James's expression perfectly. "You lot can't be so bloody brilliant at this. All you've done all lesson is sit there either reading Charles Dickens-" Remus raised an eyebrow and went back to unrepentantly reading his chapter. '-eating Fudge Flies and reading Mad Muggle comics-" Peter chomped on a Fudge Fly to indicate his own lack of repentance for that fact. -"staring at yourselves in the mirror-" James affected an expression of wounded innocence, managing to succeed for a change. -"or staring at the rest of us while flirting!"
"Jealousy is such an unattractive look on you, Bones" Sirius drawled, kicking his feet up on his desk and lacing his fingers casually behind his head. "Marauders do things for reasons only Marauders can understand. Now, I know we're beyond your comprehension, but" he shrugged elegantly "try not to take your anger at your failings out on us."
"Oh!" Caradoc affected extreme and very sarcastic surprise. "We're failing at this, are we?"
"Well" James drew out, winking at Sirius. "You are all still completely human, mate."
"Except for the Slytherins" Sirius corrected, tossing a smirk in their general greasy direction. "But they're still the pond scum they ever were, so yeah. They're failing too."
"Don't take it personally" Remus added, because he might be the responsible Marauder but he was still a Marauder.
"Need I remind you" Frank said from the desk on the other side of Caradoc. "Not one of the five of you has managed anything more than the rest of the class."
James widened his eyes, turning to Sirius as if this was news to him. "Haven't we?"
"Not strictly speaking, no Prongs" Remus answered for him, Sirius seemingly content to nap at his desk.
"I doubt they'd be much happier with us even if we tried" Rose commented idly, watching Lily determinedly try again despite showing no progress for the hour and a half's work.
"By all means" Hestia invited, waving a hand at them that was clearly meant to illustrate that the floor, so to speak, was all theirs. "Please, allow us to watch genius at work."
James swept Sirius' legs off the desk, getting to his feet as he did so. "Oi! Pads! Get up."
"What do you want, you git?" Sirius asked, eyes closed even as half his body was sprawled at an awkward angle.
"Jones just threw down the gauntlet, mate" James clarified, because he was helpful like that. "Apparently they want to see true genius at work."
"Given up, have they?" Sirius smirked, stretching in a resurgence of indolent grace. "What a pity."
"You're being a git again, Siri" Rose remarked, perching at the edge of her desk.
Sirius smirked warmly at her, eyes dancing mischievously. "Once again, Rosebud, you love me anyway."
"Shut up."
"Can I second my sister's comment?" Lily asked, her disapproving glare focusing on James rather than Sirius.
"You could" Rose agreed, the sound a chirp that made Sirius roll his eyes. "But then you'll just upset James, and then he'll pout and sulk, and none of us will get to try the spell because he'll just ruin it by being all childish, and then Sirius will have to hex him, and Remus will hex him for fun and retaliation, and then I'll have to get involved." She shook her head, heaving a sigh that said everything was so trying. "Really, it's best not to attempt it."
"For the good of the class" Lily nodded, as if seeing her point. "I wouldn't want you to have to get involved, Rosie."
"Are we doing this thing or not?" James huffed, trying not to be too put out that Lily Evans was once again teasing him and casting aspersions on his maturity. Which, to be fair, was really his own fault for being immature most of the time.
"I don't know, Potter, are you?" Dorcas asked, raising an imperious brow in a move definitely copied from Marlene.
"Marauders" James intoned, voice deliberately solemn. "Wands at the ready?"
"Ready" Rose and the other Marauders chorused, wands raised in their hands. They didn't need mirrors for this - mirrors were for amateurs.
James nodded in approval, his own wand raised. "On three then" he decided, ignoring the scoffing of their classmates who couldn't believe they were making a big production out of this. "One." They cleared all thoughts from their minds (easier said than done for most, which was why this branch of magic was so tricky). "Two." They pictured the desired transformation very clearly in their minds. "Three." Without uttering the incantation, the Marauders twirled and flicked their wands, casting the spell as best they could. Sirius once described the sensation of this transformation as like hundreds of fleas biting the transforming area, while a healthy dose of itching powder was applied to the rest of your body. He was, remarkably, right on the money with that description. Mere seconds later, the Marauders (still with their eyes closed, for the drama of the whole thing) smirked and bowed - a feat that was remarkable in and of itself. Remus had transformed his nose into a long silvery wolf's snout (a deliberate play on the well known werewolf book Hairy Snout, Human Heart), and grinned wolfishly at the stunned stares of their lesser talented classmates. Peter waved shyly, scratching at the velvet-like rat ears he had replaced his own with. Rose, unicorn horn protruding from the centre of her forehead, jumped up on her desk, swinging her legs and ignoring the resigned smile from her sister at her showing off once again. Sirius accepted the disbelieving silence as his due, smirking wickedly at anyone who happened to gape at him too long, his long legs ending in undeniably padded feet. James, as if anyone couldn't guess, was smiling at Lily, a pair of stag antlers weighing down his already big head, and exuding a very self-satisfied aura that wasn't doing him any favours from anyone who wasn't a Marauder.
McGonagall looked up at the sudden silence, eyes widening at the sight of the five transfigured Marauders. Her steely gaze noticed the rest of the class - all stuck staring at the Marauders, expressions caught somewhere between astonishment and frustration - and clearly decided not to even bother asking. However, she stood from her desk, the clock on the wall about to signal the end of the lesson, and nodded at her class. "Fifty points to Gryffindor." James grinned triumphantly, hearing the implicit pride in their favourite professor's voice. McGonagall's eyes flickered over them again, something also amused about it. "I trust you can restore yourselves as easily as you transfigured yourselves?"
"Of course" James agreed, his tone suggesting that such a thing was child's play. It was but the work of a moment to restore themselves to relative normality (after all normal was never really something they could be accused of being), the transformation complete as the bell rang to signal most students' favourite naptime subject: History of Magic.
Thank you for reading.
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