A/N: Thought about all heads of houses are required to do at Hogwarts. Thought about all underpaid professors expected to academically advise every student. This chapter is dedicated to teachers everywhere. Y'all and McGonagall deserve some rest!
James waited outside McGonagall's office, drawing out logistical diagrams for how a proper map of Hogwarts could fold (the castle was enormous and it would have to be more intricate than any other exercises James had in cartography), while watching his roommates' dots on their current one. Remus was in the library, Peter was in the choir room, and Sirius was making his way outside—likely to meet Regulus.
The time passed quickly; he didn't even care whoever was in there was nearly ten minutes over time. When the portrait hole opened, James slid a book over his drawings and pretended to read. Virginia Hampton stepped out, "You're up, Potter," she jerked a thumb towards the door.
"And what are you taking next term? Magical Arts and Crafts?"
After stuffing away papers, James walked in, sitting down with a smile. They discussed his Honour Roll status, marks, compliments from teachers on his practical skills and complaints on...oddly enough, his practical skills (just in the form of class gas), as well as his attention span. When McGonagall asked him what career he was considering, he replied immediately, "Quidditch Player."
She looked down at him over her glasses, "Mr. Potter, my job is to help students choose realistic life paths. Even if you do play professionally, it won't be forever, and you'll need other skills to fall back on. We don't even offer any classes to increase the likelihood that—"
"Well guaranteeing I play first string chaser next year would immensely improve my odds..." James sincerely grasped that straw. He could swear he saw her lip twitch.
"That will be up to Miss Crichet, who I believe is taking over for Mr. Crabtree as Captain."
She was.
"As for backup careers, where do your interests lie? Professor Slughorn says you are gifted at potions, like your father—"
James cut her off again, "I'd want to be an Auror. Or curse breaker. Or something where I'd get to move and not sit at a desk all day like too many potions jobs require," he scrunched up his nose.
"I'm afraid you'll find most jobs have their share of paperwork. However, Professor Windsor also thinks your duelling skills are quite sharp for a second year. And Robert did last year. You are the top student from a practical point of view in your year for Transfiguration; I always enjoy the attention to detail you put into your finished product. Although, one could do without the inappropriate interruptions and late work."
"What sort of interruptions would you prefer?" James asked.
She thinned her lips, ignoring him, "An Auror or curse breaker needs knowledge of your three top subjects, and I believe those are both reasonably attainable jobs, especially Aurorship, given your father's connections, and the need for them at the moment."
"Will that need be as strong four years from now?" James asked practically, but stunned his professor would think Voldemort and his Death Eaters would be around that long. Surely the Ministry's best combat Aurors would have him defeated by next year.
"If there's a war, and recruiting continues to happen among children..." she trailed off. "Our world will always need those who are willing to physically put themselves on the line to protect its most vulnerable."
So she did think there would be a war.
"What classes should I take for that, then? The core classes seem to be enough."
"There are some you could specialise in beginning your sixth year, but as for now, Ministry Preparations would be useful, as would a class like Ancient Runes or Magical Languages if you go into curse breaking. You're decent at transfiguration formulas and solving equations when you apply yourself, which shows capacity for Arithmancy. The Emergency Aid intensives are helpful for anyone going into a physically demanding field, and Domestic Magic for anyone wanting to raise a family. If you were wanting an elective outside of that field, one might suggest Magical Arts given yours and Mr. Black's flare for...the dramatic."
"And continue with Quidditch," he raised his eyebrows.
"I thought that went without saying, Mr. Potter," she folded her hands and smiled. "I do enjoy having that Cup on my shelf," her gaze shifted to his left where the Quidditch Cup was housed in a glass case with a few smaller cups, medals, and plaques, a dirk, photographs, faded Gryffindor pennant, an even older looking swath of tartan fabric, and an old beater's bat. There was an open space for the House Cup, which currently resided in Professor Flitwick's office.
"And there it shall remain," James promised, "Really ties the room together," he gesticulated like his mother did when redecorating.
After she put his choices down on paper, ending with Domestic Magic (Sirius...okay, okay, and he, had been poking fun at Peter for choosing that class, and James wanted to do something to both support Peter and shock Sirius), he stood and thanked her.
"Please send in Miss Evans," she shook her head.
Lily had been waiting nearly fifteen minutes past her slotted time for her meeting with Professor McGonagall. Luckily, she had brought an extra book with her: a second-hand copy of Agatha Christie's A Caribbean Mystery.
I'd like to visit a Caribbean island one day, Lily thought, even as she read about belladonna being used to poison cosmetics.
The portrait hole finally opened, and Potter walked out, wearing a grin eerily similar to Peeves' the night he attacked her and Cari.
"Ministry Preparation, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Alternate Magical Methodology Theory," he said.
"What?" Lily blinked up at him.
"My new OWL classes. Oh, and the Emergency Aid and Domestic Magic intensives."
"So the classes I should avoid sitting in. Thanks, Potter," Lily nodded and stood.
Professor McGonagall was pouring tea for herself when Lily walked in, "Last, but not least, Miss Evans."
"Good evening, Professor," Lily greeted.
"Miss Evans, let's start off this meeting with your current academic standing. You're on Honour Roll, doing outstanding work in most of your classes, and exceeding normal expectations in my class and Herbology. I understand Professor Slughorn has drawn you into his exclusive 'collection' of gifted and well connected students. How are you favouring there?"
Lily nodded, "I feel like I'm getting a chance to learn more about the wizarding world through the Professor's guests. Not that I don't through Hogwarts and reading; I mean no offence, but it can sometimes be like I'm living in an imaginative bubble—reading about and learning a history, politics, and world that I haven't grown up in and have barely seen. Then, when I do leave the bubble, it's for the life I've always known, not even seeing magic or allowed to do it for several months. Talking to Aurors, Medi-witches, and even an older Quidditch player has connected me better to the fact there is another realm outside of Hogwarts, or singular trips to Marlene's and Diagon Alley, that I'll eventually get to participate fully in. I hope that makes sense," she regretted babbling a reason for her answer.
"Crossing cultures can cause that kind of difficulty fitting into majority world views," Professor McGonagall affirmed; Lily breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm pleased to hear you get more than a meal out of Horace's gathering. It's helpful to know that." She met Lily's eye, "You are the first muggleborn he's invited who's actually stayed the whole year, not that there were many before you, and only a few from Gryffindor based on academic merit."
Lily's heart fluttered; she was representing muggleborns well.
"Professor Flitwick also notes your talent and extra studiousness in Charms. He believes you are performing at a fourth or fifth year level. Both of those classes will be excellent NEWTs to take. However, as for OWLs, are there classes you have particular interest in?"
This was the difficult part, "I've read the descriptions and talked to some of the older students; they all sound so fascinating, even studying muggles from a witch's point of view." Lily only knew Domestic Magic seemed the most trivial to her, and that wasn't even an OWL course. Potter must have had a plot brewing if he was in such a class; Ginny told her it was archaic, full of women who'd been fooled into believing their only duty was to be housewives someday.
"I can't sign you up for them all," her professor said wryly.
"Alice said you may be able to help me narrow them down considerably," she replied sheepishly.
"I am glad to hear you haven't already filled up your schedule in your head, because Professor Dumbledore and I believe it would behoove you to enrol in Alternative Magical Methodology Theory as an OWL course and take Practical Alternative Magical Methodology starting your sixth year."
"That's, like, ritual and magic without a wand and Latin spells, right?" Lily asked.
"Correct. Given your capacity for wandless magic, it will be helpful for channeling your powers down the road."
Lily wouldn't let the fact that Potter was in that class actually deter her from taking her professor's advice, "I'll take that class, then."
"Good." Professor McGonagall made a note, "How about careers? You've met some of Horace's acquaintances; have any magical jobs piqued your interest? Or perhaps you would like to have a job in the muggle world? Please don't tell me you want to play professional Quidditch," she sounded exasperated.
Lily thought about her conversations with her dad, Remus, people at Professor Slughorn's parties, and even the chat with Mr. Fleamont Potter last summer, "Is it possible for me to attend a muggle university?" she'd never had a straight answer.
"We have a means of transferring a transcript which is more appropriate to the muggle world, but I'd only recommend it if you had a clear career path in you wanted to follow and needed a muggle degree for. Professor Dumbledore's opinion is, with your powers, you'd go far in our world by taking on training or apprenticeships with some masters and design magic useful to many."
"And what's your opinion?" Lily asked, humbled that she'd even been on the headmaster's radar like this.
"My opinion is that Albus' path would lead to you realising your full potential for the wizarding world, but I also think your personal interests should be considered, lest you end up stuck in a place where you feel entrapped, looking back one day and abhorring your Transfiguration professor for giving you shoddy career advice. The truth is: the muggle world could use a witch like you."
"I like helping people; I don't suppose you have any apprenticeships or such that would have me making a difference in people's lives?"
"Teaching is certainly one way to make a difference early, Healing is another; with your penchant for Potions and Charms, this could be a great route to explore, especially because Albus has connections with several masters. There are offices in the Ministry which could use your mind, but perhaps not your power. A diplomat, for example, between the realms or other countries; in that case I'd recommend learning another language."
"I've learned some French," Lily mused, "But you're right, I don't think that sounds like me. I'd like to use the practical side of my education or do research which would involve that side. I think I'd like to explore Healing."
"Whether you go the full Healer, mind Healer, social work, or Medi-witch route, the Emergency Aid intensive courses are required. High marks in Herbology, Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration are essential. For trauma healing, knowledge of Defence Against the Dark Arts is important. You'd need to know about the magical properties of numbers, therefore Arithmancy or," she pursed her lips a bit, "Divination."
Lily added Alternative Magical Methodology Theory, Basic Spellcraft, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes to her OWL classes, as well as signed up for the Emergency Aid courses.
"Thank you so much for all your help, Professor," Lily stood to leave.
"Thank you for being one of the students who reminds me why I enjoy teaching," Professor McGonagall put the stacks of parchment away and sipped her tea.
Monday evening on the ides of May, Remus strolled into one of the larger study rooms. There was still a month at least left until finals, but a study group for second year Astronomy had been organised by Kathryn Brown and a Ravenclaw boy who sometimes studied with Esther in the library. With Peter at his side, they each took a chair at the larger table on the left side of the room. Five smaller, four to six person tables were on the right, surrounded by comfortable sofas and easy chairs. There were three blackboards at the front of the room, as well as chalk, scraggly extra quills, and foldable dividers one could put up if he wanted a hokum sense of privacy.
Surprising as it was to see the Carrow twins there, nothing was more shocking than watching James and Sirius strut through the door...sans books or study materials of any sort (all right, that part wasn't shocking). Sitting across the way, James leaned back in his chair and Sirius rested his recently fully healed arms on the table.
"What are you doing here?" Remus narrowed his eyes.
"Moony, we're bored," Sirius whinged.
"Uh oh," Peter said.
"We just figured we'd see what this swot club was all about," James explained.
"You'd better mind yourselves," Remus really needed to study. Astronomy was a difficult class to make up for if he missed it because it was only once a week. The moon was only three nights away; it was more difficult to focus through his various pains, and that would include noisy, pestering, roommates.
By the end of the time the room was booked for, Brown was shouting for order, a Hufflepuff had a Ravenclaw pinned on the floor for welching on a bet, and a hundred year old scroll from the library was stretched taught in the middle of the long table, while classmates used books to racket a puffskein back and forth in a wholly undignified inter-house match of table tennis.
At James and Sirius' suggestion.
Remus won (only in a stalwart act, for everybody's sake, to prevent the growth of James' ego).
That evening in bed Remus seriously gave thought to sleeping in the Room of Requirement. What with the vibrations of James' leg kicking, Peter's snoring, and the scalding arm Sirius had flung over his already scorching torso, effectively trapping him. Surely the Room could provide a comfortable space for him? In the end, he couldn't bring himself to leave his friends this late at night...but mostly he didn't have the energy to. With a groan, he woke up to vicious calf cramps, which Peter and Sirius fixed by pushing his feet perpendicular to the ceiling.
Suddenly, Remus was glad he hadn't sought out the Room of Requirement.
When the time came for Remus to attend his academic advisory meeting with Professor McGonagall, he had to sit on the floor outside her office to keep from feeling faint. He wasn't sure how long he waited there, minutes could feel like hours this stage in the lunar cycle, only knowing she was a bit over time with her current meeting.
Eventually, Eddard Dobson walked out and told him he could go in before grabbing his wrist and whispering, "She's worked through supper, she 'as. Make it quick as ye can." Pulling his arm from the searing grip, Remus entered and sat across from Professor McGonagall. Crumbs from some sort of sandwich remained on a small platter next to an empty tea cup, which she remedied while greeting him, "Evening, Mr. Lupin. Care for a cuppa tea?"
Remus agreed, thinking it might help settle his churning stomach.
Surprisingly, she poured his cup from a larger, tartan cosy covered pot, instead of the small one next to her. When he scented the air, he realised Professor McGonagall had something stronger than darjeeling in her cup.
"Thank you for being patient with me and waiting," after shuffling some papers, she looked up at Remus, "Last of the night. How are you doing?" she asked first.
Academically? Financially? Physically? Mentally?...All four categories were either in shambles or well on their way.
"I'm all right."
"The effects of the moon aren't too bad right now?"
"I've had worse," he thought back to not only three months ago.
"You're Honour Roll and doing quite well in all your classes. However, this past month your marks have slipped a bit, any reason?"
Why yes, Professor, I fell behind on the work I do ahead so I could best Black, Potter, and Pettigrew in a prank war, effectively not taking Professor Dumbledore's merciful gift of letting me attend here seriously, "Erm—usually I do the reading and essays I can ahead of schedule, but now I'm doing things closer to when they're due and a couple assignments were late after the full. There was also an Astronomy test on the full last month, which I didn't do the best on. The final will be different though," he promised.
"I've no doubt about that," she said. "And I'm hardly worried with only a month of school left. However, I do wonder what a heavier load next term will be like in light of your frequent absences."
Was she saying she thought he couldn't do it?
"I'll get the reading done over the summer. I'm interested in several OWL classes."
She gave a small smile, "You take your education more seriously than most second years I've been meeting with—even some fifth years."
Remus slid his tongue over the raised mark inside his cheek, "Most second years take education for granted," he surmised.
"Which new classes have caught your attention?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Well...all of them, except Care of Magical Creatures, unless animals suddenly decide I'm not the anti-Christ," Remus admitted. "But I know I'm limited to four OWLs...Most definitely Literature." Peter would be in that class as well, which would be gas.
"What sort of job do you foresee yourself pursuing after Hogwarts?"
This was the part he'd been dreading...thinking about a future he was sure didn't exist. He'd go home, he'd die alone.
"To be honest...I haven't given it much thought. Not for lack of trying. Whenever I do, it gets to be too much or something else comes up," usually in the form of some noise coming from some part of some Marauder, "I've barely come to terms I'm in school. Live in the moment and all that." Always had a schedule for schoolwork—hardly ever past four weeks out. And he was slowly but surely beginning to make a dog's dinner out of that.
"I don't suppose there will be too many options for me though, will there? Especially with all the monsters in the Prophet earlier this year. Last year a law was passed that I have to declare my status to any potential employer..." and Healers he saw, and Ministry workers, like Aurors, he came into contact with, and probably the bloody baristas at pubs!
"A few werewolves taking up the press. Hardly all. You're not a monster. And people out there will know this. Where do your deepest interests lie?"
Remus couldn't give an answer for that either. Hence, the desire to try everything.
"Learning is an interest..." he said slowly, thinking back to what he told Lily about researchers.
"Yes, but as for what you learn about. Perhaps some subjects which could practically benefit you later in life. Magical and Muggle Literature could help you in a bookshop, magic or muggle. You could also take classes which would benefit research positions later on and enhance your critical thinking skills, such as Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. Another language or Basic Spellcraft would expand what you could consume or create further." Remus did want to learn how to speak and understand some language besides English and Welsh without having to flip through grammar books and dictionary translations. "From a more...opportunistic point of view, with so much yet to be done in our government over Werewolf Rights, it may behoove you to take Ministry Preparation, which would arm your mind well to fight for your future, and make it a better place for others by overturning rules and laws which you seem so fond of finding loopholes in," she raised her brows as she sipped her tea.
"Professor," he spoke, exhausted, "Be realistic with me," he knew he could trust Professor McGonagall to be, "What are the odds I'll do well after I finish Hogwarts?"
"To be frank, Remus," she used his first name, "it's going to be difficult, not only with the hardship of your condition, but living in a society stacked against you—perhaps not every day, but some times will be easier than others. However, you're not a Gryffindor for nothing, you're smart and you're strong, you fight hardships shrewdly, and you challenge injustice. I believe you will have greatness to offer the world."
That's not true, Remus couldn't help but think.
"If the world is blind to it...if even you yourself are blind to it, that does not mean it isn't great. I can promise you Albus and I will be supportive of you as well, should you need any references or assistance. There are even jobs which could be worked in longer shifts with multiple days off—for example, the fire and rescue service, or are done more or less on your own time—such as a writer, so if you're in the muggle world it's less likely your condition is discovered."
He wanted to be hopeful, but it was hard this close to the full. Perhaps in a solid week or two, Remus would be more excited about a possible future...or even his classes for next term: Arithmancy, Latin and Magical Languages, Magical and Muggle Literature, Ancient Runes, Emergency Aid (helpful, given his 'furry little problem'), and Domestic Magic (as a practicality for when he would no longer be required to do chores the muggle way around home).
"Sorry for taking so much of your time, Professor," he apologised as she finished marking down his decisions. She put that parchment away and pulled a stack of students' homework in front of her.
"Nothing to apologise for, Remus. I scheduled you last knowing we would need the extra time to account for more unique factors. Please get plenty of rest this evening; Poppy will have a bed open if the others are too rambunctious. You're not still sharing one bed, are you?"
Remus ignored the question, knowing that in spite of James' ministrations of forts and brotherly bonding, sharing a bed with three other teenage boys was generally frowned upon in most of Britain...especially if one of them was a werewolf. And, while Remus couldn't speak for James, it was uncomfortable the mornings he and his neighbours woke up stuck to their mattress—a more and more frequent and potent occurrence, "I am fatigued. I'll likely stay in the dorms tonight, but visit Madam Pomfrey tomorrow by the time we need to leave." He eyed the stack of papers on her desk, wishing his professor would get some rest as well.
True to his word, Remus guiltily skipped classes in favour of a more horizontal position.
"At least tomorrow's Friday and we'll have the weekend to visit you," Sirius encouraged.
And that was two less days of classes he didn't worry about missing.
Just as Remus was feeling guilty about tearing his head of house away from her work, she spoke to him and Professor Windsor (yet another person he was responsible for stealing from his work load) as they walked towards the tunnel, "Ah, I've been needing to get out of the castle all week." Even though her time away from her classroom and office was spent protected under an Impervius Charm in a torrential spring rain.
Remus stared at the ceiling beams as long as possible before he lost control of his vision.
Friday evening he awoke to a dark hand holding his sharply contrasted pale one, "Morning, Moony!" James grinned. Peter was knelt at his side, chin resting on his forearms near his bandaged shoulder.
"Whr's Sirus?" he whispered. His throat was on fire.
"Detention," Peter quipped shortly, "Undeservingly."
"We went to the lake to meet some merfolk Windsor negotiated with. No wands were allowed. I think Sirius felt bad about not taking notes for you these last few months, so he mooched off Schmidt for more parchment, right? Even though we're outside and it's difficult to write on. All in exchange for some flight time on his Nimbus. Dense that. When I have a Thunderbolt. Anyway, we meet the mermaids, one of 'em's even wearing my old specs. I was sketching out a picture for you, since you couldn't be there and see one up close. Then, Snivellus stole mine and Sirius' parchment first, just assuming it was for you. Said if you skived class you didn't deserve the lesson. Evans tried intervening but Sirius pinched his Defence book and threw it into the lake—"
"The m-mermaids d-didn't l-like that," Peter chimed in.
"They certainly did not like that at all, scarpering faster than even I, the best Gryffindor reserve seeker to the reserve seeker, could blink. Then this massive wave came out of the water and soaked the whole class.
"Thrs picturs in our book," Remus huffed.
"Not wearing spectacles!" James argued, "My drawing could have made the next edition!"
"Mermazing," Peter agreed.
"'m sure."
Remus dozed off again.
Sunday afternoon his more frequently absent four legged friend returned once more, pouncing onto the end of the bed and napping at his feet while he slept for several hours or Madam Pomfrey forced potions down, which his body demanded should be brought up. Sirius unintentionally scared her away with his loud voice later that evening, Sunday crossword in hand.
"Remus! James and I can't figure out thirteen across!"
"Can ya believe this is our second to last Club meetin' of the year?" Cari asked beside Sirius. Her hair was wild; he was fairly certain his locks, which were just starting to reach a non-embarrassing length since Remus removed them, were as well. They'd been out on the pitch early that morning, so he could make good on his promise to let her try out his broomstick—in spite of the fact the parchment he'd obtained met an greasy and undignified demise. Let it never be said Sirius Black didn't repay his debts.
"Don't talk about it like that, enjoy it while it's here," he pushed through the dwindling crowd to find Regulus or James.
"Think it'll continue next year?" she questioned.
"Dunno, but that would be brilliant."
Evans (Circe's sake, that red-headed, know-it-all, popped up everywhere) stole Cari from Sirius' side before he could find his brother and bloke who was practically a brother.
Once he did, Professor Windsor allowed people to line up with partners and practice making their shields absorb impact, instead of reflect. He even had his NEWT students walk around to assess duelling pairs and give assessments for what worked well and what needed improvement.
"Remember, your shield is only as strong as your concentration! You can be the most powerful wizard in this room but have faulty protection if focus is lost."
After James and Remus were partners, Sirius switched out Reg for Remus.
The cocky bastard may have broken through Sirius' defensive shield as he cast spell after spell, speaking casually about wondering what Snivellus would look like in a dress.
"That wasn't a gentlemen's duel," he grumbled.
"There's nothing in the official rules of duelling, or Duelling Club, against speaking during your duel," he spoke with an air of pretentiousness, "...although, James' personal sound effects and commentary should be outlawed."
"Naff," Sirius shoved him.
Monday, after his last class, when he'd normally go to Quidditch practice, Sirius had to make his way to his academic meeting with McGonagall. He didn't see much point. His father had owled him which classes he was to take—which meant Sirius knew which classes he didn't want to take. After steeling himself with the knowledge his parents would definitely maybe use his education and career to attempt to further their pureblood bigotry, perhaps even wanting him to assist with Death Eaters, Sirius decided he wasn't going to sit those OWLs. At least he'd have a month to prepare himself for the repercussions.
"Afternoon, Minnie," he greeted after the lioness granted him entrance.
"Mr. Black, I'd prefer—."
"No, that's my name," he smiled.
"Take a seat," she demanded tersely.
"Mr. Black, let's discuss your marks first. You were on Honour Roll last year. But, unless you pass your exams with flying colours, that will be rescinded for the time being."
Not that Sirius cared nearly as much as his family, but he'd do just swell on his exams, thank you very much.
"You've still got above average marks in Charms and Transfiguration, the others are average, at this point, but it seems you're struggling in History of Magic and Herbology. You're in no danger of not passing, but there are some behaviour patterns which will need to remedy themselves next term. I have multiple complaints from your teachers about interruptions and your attention span in class, and I include myself among these. Professor Slughorn believes he has reason to worry about your mental state being housed in Gryffindor. He's also put out you didn't attend his last dinner party. Professor Windsor is my only colleague to not use the exact phrase, 'Natural-born troublemaker,' in their comments to me. Three of them, and again, I include myself in this, have noticed periods of time wherein you put forth a scholarly amount of effort, and other times a baboon may as well have done your work."
Sirius wondered who would say such shite.
"Amel and I both have anti-cheating spells in class, so I know it is indeed your handiwork," she sighed and set down the parchment with her notes before folding her hands, "Mr. Black, you are a bright student. I refuse to see your brilliance go to waste. Now, tell me, as you can, why the flakey work?"
"Sometimes I don't feel like it," he shrugged. Not when Remus was in the hospital wing suffering alone or there was an ingenious prank to be shared. Or when there was so much else in this wild and exciting world to explore—things far more important than a history of magic in Scotland or cutting up gurdyroot. Or the times he was in one of his "Sirius Moods" as Peter dubbed it, where he can't leave his bed, much less care about animagus homework or any other dumb half-bre—creature for Windsor and transfiguration equations.
"Sometimes we have to do things we don't feel like doing."
"I also played my first year on a Quidditch team I only originally tried out for because James was, found out one of my best mates is a werewolf who goes through excruciating transformations on par with the Cruciatus Curse and there's nothing I can do to help it, my brother's new friends favour the Dark Arts, and my family is chums with the sort of people the Prophet's labelling 'terrorists'! Apologies if schoolwork isn't always my highest priority to think about!" he snapped.
"Mr. Black, if you cannot keep your temper in check you will be in detention from tonight until end of term," her nostrils flared and Sirius clenched his fists—physically biting his tongue until he could taste copper.
"Please explain to me," she asked in a much slower voice, "What you mean by your parents are associated with Voldemort and his followers?"
Shit. Shit shit shit, I've really screwed the pooch now. He gave another shrug, "I dunno if they're Death Eaters or just boot lickers, but they believe all sorts of rubbish, like he's making our world a better place, and keep filling Reg's head and pushing on me their prejudices and hire tutors who believe the same and don't—,"
"Mr. Black, you realise if you have sufficient proof your parents are either accomplices or part of the attacks which have happened, they are wanted by the Ministry..."
NO! Sirius panicked, keeping his face as schooled as he'd had to when Bella'd used the torture curse on a bird that had flown into a window...Why didn't I yell at her? I should have yelled at her! His mind wandered. Right. Yes. Academics and Azkaban. Sirius shook his head, "I don't." But you could easily find some—probably by simply picking up any letter addressed to your father, a voice in his head sneered, Coward, "I'm probably just making mountains out of molehills. Remus says I'm overdramatic." His parents couldn't go to Azkaban. What would happen to him and Reg? What if they had to live with Uncle Cygnus? Surely they wouldn't be trusted with Uncle Alphard, who'd never raised children...
She paused, "Do you have any proof your brother's peers are practicing Dark Magic?"
These berks he didn't mind throwing under the Knight Bus, "My cousin checked him out a restricted book on the Imperius Curse, for one."
"I'll look into it," she made a note, "That's against rules, but it's not practicing Black Magic."
"Anything Cissy does is Black Magic," Sirius said, causing his professor to pinch the bridge of her nose. "We can move on to planning your class schedule now, unless there's anything else you wish to tell me..." she paused. Sirius wasn't going to shove his foot any further into his mouth in regards to his home life tonight.
She pulled out a piece of parchment which, one could discern from the creases, had once been folded into an envelope, "I've received a colourfully written letter from Orion Black ordering me to place you in Alternative Magical Methodology Theory, Ministry Preparations, Latin and Magical Languages, Ancient Runes, and Basic Spellcraft."
"That's one too many classes, isn't it?" Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Mr. Black, where do your parents expect you to end up?"
"Azkaban, probably."
"I meant career wise."
"Oh, the Ministry: a brief and/or international diplomat."
"Is that all?"
He dared not shift under her gaze, "All the duties being an heir entails socially and financially."
"Your father may have mentioned something along those lines in his letter," she said distastefully, "He also wrote these classes would prepare you for a better and more selective wizarding society. But it doesn't go into further detail than that."
Sirius did flinch. He wanted to look away, truly he did, but McGonagall kept her eyes on his. Without shifting her gaze, the woman tore the letter lengthwise and silently charmed it to her fireplace.
Sirius felt his mouth fall slightly open in shock at the boldness. Was he allowed to laugh? He wanted to laugh.
"I don't appreciate parents telling me how to do my job," she said before taking a sip of her tea and pulling out his advisory charts. "I am also absolutely not placing you in Alternative Magical Methodology Theory because I am certain the professor would suspend you on day one for braggadocio attitude."
Sirius smirked. How had she allowed James to be in that class?
"What career do you envision yourself in after Hogwarts?"
"Professional Quidditch Player for the Cannons," he lied, citing his family's least favourite team.
"You said you were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team because your friend was."
"Okay then—Knockturn Alley Tattoo Artist."
"Mr. Black—"
"Baker? Candlestick maker?"
"Let's be realistic about your options..."
"Baker's realistic; I've made fantastic brownies!"
He realised his mistake .02 seconds too late. Sirius had never seen this sort of constipated look on his Transfiguration professor before...
"I trust," she spoke slowly again, "I will never hear about Sirius Black baking ever again, and no detentions will be assigned."
"Rare creature breeder," he kept the conversation going as a promise.
"Mr.-"
Sirius put an elbow on the desk, resting his cheek on his hand, "Can't I just fight dark witches and wizards?"
"An Auror could...or a brief or international diplomat."
"Ugh," Sirius threw his head down on the desk, "I don't want to give them what they want."
"I highly doubt you will."
Sirius was not hurt by that comment. Nope, not in the slightest.
"I believe taking classes aimed at reform will prepare you for a better and more inclusive wizarding society," his professor stated firmly. "Because you aren't the kind of man to sit idly as the whims of the world pass you by. You question traditions; the status quo, and hopefully as you mature, will make well thought out decisions regarding your participation in enacting change."
Sirius leaned back in his chair, contemplating what she'd said. His parents' path wasn't necessarily the wrong path to begin with, it was the fork in the road where Sirius and their intentions diverged. They took the large, safe, easy, and well traveled one, while he favoured the lovely and scenic path of most resistance: difficult, yet adventurous, painful, yet noble, stacked, yet just.
Moony had asked them to read him Muggle Poetry after the last full moon.
"Can I still take Care of Magical Creatures?" he inquired.
Back in the empty common room, while Remus was in the library and Peter getting Potions tutoring, Sirius battled James at chess.
"So you're still taking Ministry Preparation?" James asked. "That's a change of heart from earlier today."
"You'll be there, I figure it can't be too bad."
"So will Kings."
"Ah, well, someone we can get notes from," Sirius reasoned.
"Too bad you won't overlap with Moony except in an intensive. We'll have Care of Magical Creatures and First Aid together; you'll get Pete in Magical Arts and Crafts. Can't believe you let McGonagall talk you into that one...Check. How's your family going to react to you taking Muggle Studies?"
He was placed in Magical Arts (and Crafts) because Professor McGonagall thought it a "suitable outlet for his hormonal temper (you can drop it if it gets to be too much work)."
A few moves later, James declared "Checkmate," and Sirius flipped the board.
"Tie," he grinned before spotting someone's bag in front of the coffee table.
Bored, Sirius lifted the bag on the table and began rifling through its contents.
"That's Evans'" James said. "Seems wrong, pillaging a maiden's private collection."
"If she didn't want people to look through it, she shouldn't've left it in the common room," he raised his eyebrows.
"Exceptionally valid point," James stuck a hand in.
They found books which were Property of the Half-Blood Prince, those muggle butterfly clippy things she pulled her bangs back with...James put a silver glittery one in Sirius' hair...
"Ow! That pulls!"
There were also potions in phials, a muggle planner with loud colours and stickers on the front, and several crystals in which the purpose for could not be ascertained, "Too small for chakra use, healing, or cleansing energy."
"Goon keeps her homework after it's marked," Sirius laughed before changing his voice only slightly more high pitched and exaggeratedly more stuck up, "While not impervious to magic, werewolves have the ability to withstand spells and potions to a higher degree than many other people, especially in wolf form. However, silver, wolfsbane (aconitium lycotonum), rowan (sorbus subg. sorbus), and mistletoe (viscum album) are all possible defence methods outside of spellwork due to the fact that werewolves are highly allergic to them.5 Werewolves are most dangerous in their wolf form, scenting out human smells and posing a threat to infect or kill them.6 However, when in human form, I believe the majority or werewolves are as good or evil as any other man or woman because they once again have the free will to choose and make decisions based off their cognitive capacity, even if their wolfish side is active under the surface. Had the audacity to give her full marks when I wrote an essay on why the book was bollocks..."
"Wait, go back," James said.
"The fact Moony can be murdered by mistletoe?" Sirius grimaced.
"After that," James waved.
"Scenting out humans?" Sirius asked.
James sprang off the sofa, "I HAVE A BRILLIANT IDEA BEYOND MERLIN'S WILDEST DREAMS! I KNOW HOW WE CAN HELP MOONY!" he declared in half a breath.
"Wha-" Sirius was excited to hear this plan, but did not expect the front of his shirt to be grabbed and his person dragged towards the dorm rooms.
James skipped stairs as he climbed past the first year rooms to their own. Sirius followed him inside as he raced to find his book on magical creatures. James flipped to the page he had to write a summary about a few class periods ago before shoving it into Sirius' face.
"Animagi?"
"Werewolves only go bloodthirsty when there's men around, see? Unless they're hunting, animals are undisputedly safe. Animagi's DNA completely changes when in animal form..."
As Sirius visibly caught on to his genius, Peter returned from the dungeons, "Pete! Get in here!" Sirius yanked him in eagerly while James couldn't cease speaking for a moment, "So even if we're bitten, we won't get infected! And he won't want to bite himself either!"
"Um...what?" Peter asked.
"We," Sirius pointed between the three of them, "are going to help Moony by becoming Animagi."
Peter dropped the book he was holding, "B-buh-but that's illegal."
"My father works at the ministry, he can help us get permission!" James had it all planned out. Okay, it was a quarter of the way planned out, but he knew what the end result would be: Remus would stop hurting himself so grotesquely every month. Less time Remus would have to spend in the hospital wing. More time for Remus to have fun.
That seemed to soften some of Peter's trepidation, "I-Is there a way for us to choose what we become? James what if you become a-a puffskein or something?"
"Then Remus could bat him around and still be distracted enough to not rip his own guts out!" Sirius countered.
As fun as that sounded, James knew he wouldn't become a puffskein; his personality was too manly for that.
"Okay," Peter stated simply, grin starting to form on his face.
"So when do we tell Remus?" James asked them.
"When he gets back from the library."
"No!" Peter argued, "Wh-what if w-we can't do it? Then h-he'd be c-crushed."
"He'll probably try to be all self-flagellating and attempt to dissuade us." This was the reason James thought they should wait. They could do it.
"Hmm..." Sirius mused, "If we'd already done it, he couldn't try and talk us out of it."
"The Marauders can't keep secrets," Peter groaned.
"Well, we have to now," James stated, "You two are in Magical Arts and Crafts, I'm sure you could use the acting practice."
"It's more you I'm worried about," Peter said.
"Me?!" James began to argue but Sirius cut in.
"It'll be a surprise. By Christmas this year. Or his fourteenth birthday if it takes a bit longer."
James agreed and jumped onto Mega-bed (patent pending), "I do declare this decision requires some celebratory scones!"
"I need to shower; there's lizard urine on me!" Peter stayed behind with the promise he'd get pillows stacked in prime fort position and extra sweets organised before their return.
On their way to the portrait hole, they were stopped by the sound of Lily Evans' shouting.
"HAS SOMEONE GONE THROUGH MY BAG!?" she shrieked.
The boys turned in tandem to back slowly up the stairs. Unfortunately, her gaze caught them.
And that is how James Potter and Sirius Black landed in the hospital wing with the worst cases of Bat-Bogeys Madame Pomfrey had seen in her thirty three years of life.
As summer barrelled towards Hogwarts, so did exams. Unfortunately, this meant, as a measly second year, Lily Evans lost any and all claim she had to a peaceful spot in the library. Luckily, it was a reasonably cloudy, but not rainy, day outside, so she spent time, with the books she did possess, studying with her roommates and Severus by the Black Lake.
"What's a bezoar?"
"C'mon Mar, hit me with a harder one than that," Lily rolled her eyes.
"Harder won't be on the exam," she replied.
At Lily's glare, Marlene asked, "Okay, what kind of poisoning can't a bezoar cure?"
"Basilisk venom."
"Correct."
This went on until curfew for being outside, which was now thankfully extended with the sun.
"D'you think Professor Slughorn will give extra credit questions?" Kitty asked on their walk back to the castle.
"I'd certainly appreciate it," Cari balanced on a wooden path marker back to the castle.
Severus snorted, "Extra credit is a paradox that encourages lacklustre performance on regular work and unfair to those who study well. Brown nosers aren't even the reason teachers offer it."
"Well, I appreciate the extra bit of insurance in case I can't be speedy enough on the practical," Cari retorted.
"Snape's a git," Cari told Lily when they'd made it back to the common room.
"Hear hear!" Black called across the room where their gang and a couple other boys from her year were playing some sort of game involving a goblet of cherry punch.
"He's opinionated," she said, "As if none of us are."
"He called me a brown noser!" Kitty said.
"I'll talk to him about that," Lily would, once they were in private.
"You have to admit, it was a bit gas, Kat."
Kathryn wouldn't be amused.
"What're ya dimwits playin'?" Cari asked.
"Truth and dare!" James called.
"You mean truth or dare?" Marlene questioned.
"Unfortunately not," Peter giggled.
"That's for cowards. Truth and dare," Sirius affirmed.
"Care to join?" James asked.
Kathryn scoffed, "Absolutely not," before climbing the stairs.
Lily was about to leave as well when Marlene grabbed her arm, "Please have some fun?"
Even Ginny joined, clearly looking for an excuse to embarrass her Quidditch teammates.
"Excellent," James rubbed his hands, "Rules are, one person comes up with your truth, another, the dare. First come, first serve; it's boring when people take too long to think. Losers can still ask truth questions, but not dare. Refusal to comply results in loss of the game. Peter, Kingsley (who's already left), Green, and Dobson are all out."
"What's in the goblet?" Lily asked suspiciously, hoping her hunch was wrong.
"Only three drops of truth serum," Black said, "Just enough to ensure you're telling the truth."
She caved when her roommates complied.
"Drink up," Remus smirked as he passed Marlene the goblet.
Lily could hardly believe the despicableness of her friend. 'On his own level,' bah. However, when the spiked juiced reached her, she took the proffered cup, raised it to her lips, and sipped even more boldly than Ginny had. She felt no difference.
"I'm next!" Black declared.
"How'd you get Veritaserum?" Lily asked.
"Ugh," Potter said, "That's your question?"
"Nicked it in detention."
"I dare you leap off the Black Lake platform starkers," Potter laughed.
"You can't—" Lily started.
"Get caught. Yah, yah," Sirius stood and shrugged off his robes, "Don't wait on my account; keep it going," he sped to the portrait hole.
"He can't be serious," Lily looked at Marlene.
"He's always Sirius," Peter replied.
"Should we make sure he does it?" Cari asked.
"Nah, it'll be obvious by level of dampness and smell. Right then, Remus."
"Where do you go every few weeks?" Lily would finally get some answers.
Lily had never seen James Potter scared. She'd heard it, when she took a long walk off a staircaseless ledge, but had never seen him. Eyes widened like an owl in fright, mouth open, slight tremor in his lip...Potter was terrified of her finding out where Remus went. Pettigrew looked like he was going to boot. But Remus kept a fairly impassive face, if a bit annoyed. However, he stuttered his answer, "I-I-I go h-home to t-take care of a furry little problem."
"What furry little problem?"
"Only one question!" Potter quickly yelled at her. "Dare time!"
"I dare him to get us all butterbeer," Marlene said.
Potter tutted, "McKinnon, McKinnon, McKinnon; if you weren't a girl, we'd make a Marauder out of you."
"As much as I'd love to, I have absolutely zero knuts on me at the moment," Remus said.
This comment had Pettigrew and Dobson cackling with laughter. Boys! Lily thought exasperated.
"Cheers, mate," Potter pulled a gold coin out of his trouser pocket.
"Marlene," Potter poked next.
"Why don't ya wanna marry Potter?" Cari asked.
"Because I don't love him," she said simply.
"Dare ya to shroud yourself in a dark cloak like a lethifold when we wake firsties for initiation tonight." Ginny said. Lily knew Mary was aware of what the initiation was, however she didn't know when it was happening. "What if they think she's a Death Eater?" Lily questioned but was ignored.
"Evans, have you ever broken any school rules?"
Lily wanted to say no. However, it suddenly felt like she had a cough and sneeze suppressed at once, "Yes," she choked out; the effects immediately dissipated.
"Good show, Evans," Potter cheekily winked.
"Which ones?" Pettigrew asked.
"Only one question," she narrowed her eyes, breathing heavily through the draw to answer.
Black returned, smelling like a swamp, hair sopping wet but clothes reasonably dry. He sat down and shook his hair like a dog, "Eugh," everyone backed off.
"What'd I miss?" he asked and Pettigrew caught him up.
"I dare you to wear your muggle running clothes to class tomorrow," Marlene said.
"That's too far away," Ginny complained.
"You can trust me," Lily said; there were far worse things she could be asked to do, "I'll do it."
"It's a Marauder bargain, Evans," Sirius said, "Welching will demand punishment further than loss of the game."
"I can't believe Evans lasted that long," Peter said later that evening as they enjoyed four extra butterbeers Remus had procured (plus one extra Evans had not taken, even on a dare, "It's not just against school rules, it's against the law!").
"I can't believe Evans joined!" James laughed.
Remus rolled his eyes, "She had to know Veritaserum isn't foolproof. It's like the Imperious Curse—fightable to those with a strong enough will."
"Wait, what?" Sirius asked. "That's never part of the stories," James stared wide-eyed.
To make a point, Remus downed the rest of the tart liquid, waiting a few moments before feeling the pull against the two lies out of his mouth, "I'm not a werewolf. Professor Dumbledore is a glam rocker. You three are actually smart."
"Hey!" James chucked a pillow at him.
Close to midnight, Sirius and James left to assist in "kidnapping" the first year boys. Remus hadn't planned on watching the initiation, but when he heard an explosion from somewhere below him, he decided to follow Peter.
"Should've seen it," Hughes was telling Bannatyne, "Stuffed a dungbomb in the wet-start firework, then bam!, whole dorm filled with smoke. Crabtree says it's the first year in a while no one figured out what was happening!"
Mary McKinnon stole the show. She was put in a seeker position, and caught the snitch within fifteen minutes.
The next morning, Lily showed up to Charms in yellow hot pants. Remus was convinced, had it been a Transfiguration class day, someone would have said something a lot sooner. It wasn't until Defence, when they were even having class outside, Professor Windsor asked her to go change into something more suitable for a practical class.
"But sir, doesn't she gets a much fuller range of motion than in robes?" Remus asked in an innocent voice. Nonetheless, she was asked to leave and Remus stay after class. Even though his gut reaction was to feel guilty, he was fairly certain the professor had no feelings hard enough to even punish him. No, he wanted to discuss something else.
They walked near the courtyard together, past the stone circle and Hagrid's hut. The June sun finally chased some clouds away and there was a light breeze which kept his hair from falling against his forehead. Off to their right, the whomping willow swayed unnaturally against the wind.
Professor Windsor looked at it, "Interesting month you'll be having."
Remus nodded, "Another lunar eclipse."
"Hopefully you'll rest easy over the weekend and start exams with the rest of the others," Professor Windsor encouraged.
"I have to. Missing an exam would be too conspicuous."
He shook his head, "Not at the expense of your health. What'll that day be? Practical Transfiguration? Minerva would certainly allow you to take it privately."
"Don't want the special treatment," he toed a stone.
"There's a solar eclipse this month too, on the last day," his teacher allowed the subject to change. "Partial one, at least, during the new moon. Any idea if partial solar eclipses affect you?"
Remus shrugged, "There was one last year, I just," it was hard to explain, "dunno feel...more powerful, like my senses, which are usually heightened around the full, are even stronger despite it being so far away."
"Fascinating," his teacher said, causing Remus to smile. "Wish I could be here witness it. I hope to accompany the Headmaster in some Ministry meetings at the end of the month to discuss permissions for stronger warding and safety measures, such as Aurors, on the Hogwarts Express. The Ministry and Board are cutting it close, but we still can to do it before sending students home en masse."
Remus relished in being privy to some of the upper workings of Hogwarts.
"I wish you'd come back next year," Remus confessed.
"We can stay in contact—by owl or visits. Osiris knows I need to start visiting your father again. Mistake on my part, even if it's far less consequential than his. If someone had told me eight years ago I'd one day be teaching Lyall and Hope's son, I would've tested them for a Babbling Curse," he laughed, "It's been a pleasure teaching under Albus. Also watching you learn so much. Does an old man's heart good to see what I've spent years discreetly fighting for in my department to be proven right."
Remus wondered what his father's mistakes had been: Turning to alcohol? Reclusing in a hovel? Continuing to raise him? Professor Windsor's thoughts were likely along the former. But, like he'd said, he hadn't spent much time around after the bite, so he couldn't know the full extent of the story.