Disclaimer: The following is not purely original fiction, but rather characters, settings, and situations as created by J.K. Rowling. I'm playing in her toybox because I get writer's block on my own work. I will return all characters in fairly decent condition. No money is being made of this piece of fanfiction and can not be reproduced for any purposes but strictly private entertainment.
Special thanks to my roxing reviewers: Sorensen, Arwen Undomiel, Ginny Potter, Lavander Ice, Triskelion, Ayla Pascal, Henoimre, and Moonrose. This chapter's dedicated to you! Thanks so much for the catching of errors and encouragement, and particularly Sorensen for betaing (DEMANDING to beta, no less...).
Also a huge thank you for Sorensen for putting up with... with that place, y'know, the opposite of heaven, while attempting to beta. You rock, Sore, and your new screen name is really cool into the bargain. :-)
Chapter Two - Mind The Sharp Points
Remus's cloak was useless. His mother had promised a new one right before she died. He had been far too grief-stricken to worry about it then, of course, but he noticed it now. Trying to take good care of it had proved difficult for a Marauder, and Uncle Richaden resented every Knut spent on him. Remus had resolved to eventually pay his uncle back in full, but until then he just had to shiver and hope he didn't contract pneumonia.
After a chilly half hour, Remus came across someone in the storm - Hagrid, the gianteous, good-natured gamekeeper. Their first experience with him beyond his taking them to the school in their first year as tradition dictated was during their first winter. Sirius got the idea to let a bunch of fire salamanders loose on the frozen lake before the Slytherins skated on it. The problem was that Hagrid got the blame. James immediately decided they should apologise to Hagrid. He and the quartet of mischief had been good friends ever since, and he was especially fond of James. But then, who wasn't?
"Remus! What're yeh doin' ou' here wi' it rainin' like this?" Hagrid demanded as he spotted him.
Remus walked over to the edge of the moat, not trusting himself to be heard if he shouted through the wind. Hagrid, looking rather disapproving and reminding the student of McGonagall in one of her moods, grabbed one of the huge far bolts on his shoulder and draped it around Remus.
With relief, Remus felt his teeth cease to chatter. "T-Thanks." He saw what Hagrid was doing - a patch of ditheraries, which would only grow near water, were being flooded as the lake rose. Hagrid was using three tools, and as he only had two hands, they were all getting pretty muddy. "Would you like me to help?"
Hagrid half-grunted, half-snorted as he fitted a crystal half-sphere over a prickly ditherary, pressing the edge firmly into the earth. "Yeh sure can. Git inside so you don' catch anythin'."
"Was that the same thing you told James and Sirius and Peter?" Remus asked, handing him the stubby wood knife.
Hagrid looked at him quizzically.
"I've been looking for them," he elaborated.
"Well now," Hagrid grinned, using the end of the knife to push away the mud and free another ditherary, "they wanted me ter keep mum. But seein' as it's yeh and they've git yer bir'hday pr'sent already, they're in the broomshed."
"It figures. Thanks, Hagrid." Remus took off the heavy would-be shawl, but Hagrid stopped him.
"Keep it an' don' let me catch yeh out here again when it's like this wi'out it."
"All right. Thank you." Remus gratefully wrapped it on again. "You won't catch me, I swear."
Hagrid, smiling, shook his head in surrender while Remus waded over to the shed. He loved Quidditch as much as the next teenage wizard, but this was a bit much. Madam Pomfrey was going to be furious in a few hours when he showed up soaked and muddy. He was going to regret it, too. The Asher house was going to be chilly tonight.
Straining his ears to make out some of the funny noises within, Remus knocked, trying not to show annoyance. After being so keyed up over their safety, he found them here…
"Someone's here!" Peter Pettigrew hissed in alarm.
Sirius Black swore. "James, c'mon, quick!"
There was a sort of tapping stomp on the floor.
"You - you can't?" Sirius's voice sounded a little pale. "We're so dead…"
Remus grinned wickedly to himself and put on his best imitation of Professor Flitwick's high-pitched voice. The rumble of rain and thunder gave him a lot of leeway. "Come on, boys, there's nothing you've done that can surprise me anymore. Open up, please."
"Flitwick," Peter said hollowly. Immediately Peter's shuffling footsteps and the scraping of moving racks sounded on the floor.
Sirius swore again. "James, come on, mate! Concentrate!"
"Aloho -" Remus began lazily, not even taking his wand out.
Peter flung open the door. Remus recognised the look on his face as the one he used when he was about to fabricate his most outrageous cover-ups. "Professor, we - " He halted, staring at Remus for a moment like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Then he burst out furiously: "It's you!"
Still outside the broomshed, Remus could just make out Sirius half-crouching in a corner. "Who? Remus?"
"You finally got my name straight. Congratulations. Can I come in? It's freezing out here…"
Hesitantly glancing around, Peter moved aside and Remus shut the door thankfully as Sirius fumed: "You pesky low-down dirty sneaky annoying little -"
Remus was looking at the students' broomsticks, wondering what his friends had done to them. That's when he noticed James wasn't there. "Where's James?"
"Erm…"
"Well…"
"Ahem. Mr. Lupin, may I present to you - the antlered Marauder?" Peter pronounced, nervously but with a note of excitement.
Three things happened simultaneously: Remus caught his breath, disbelieving, remembering when they had brewed the Juris Potion, and it had revealed James's Animagus form as a stag. He spotted something askew in rack of Tinderblast brooms - a half-hidden animal whose antlers blended with the wood. And then the animal stepped from the rack, head now held high, a wonderful gleam of undisguised joy in his eye.
The stag walked slowly, lifting it's thin legs regally, over to Remus, who stood before it in shock, almost feeling as if he should bow to it. James Potter eyed him calmly, waiting for him to catch his bearings and react.
"You should see your face right now," Sirius grinned. His voice sounded a little far-off.
Remus remembered to breathe. It had happened. One of his friends had actually accomplished the transformation. What was he supposed to say now? He felt so awkward, seeing James like this. But what was it compared to what they would feel when - and it was definitely in the neighbourhood of "when" now, not "if" - they saw him in his lupine form? They would hesitate, too, and it would hurt to see it, if indeed he even registered it.
"Hullo, James," he managed at last. He sounded shaky.
"He speaks!" Peter quipped.
Carefully, as if still unused to moving about this way, James gently placed his head under Remus's hand. Remus patted it softly. "That's - that's really good - it - it worked."
Even as a stag, it was easy to make out James's trademark grin.
" 'Our antlered Marauder'," Sirius said thoughtfully. "I like it, Peter. James with prongs."
When his friends had discovered he was a werewolf, and later confronted him with what they had found on the transformation, Sirius had promised him solemnly, despite Remus's protests, that he would one day help Remus. There was no cure? Yes there was. And if not, he'd find another way. He'd numb the pain; he'd find a potion to put him asleep throughout it; he'd figure a way to stay with him throughout it.
At the end of their second year, Sirius had hit upon the idea: they could transfigurate themselves into animals.
"It's called Animagi, Sirius," James correctly dryly. "And it's not plain transfiguration."
"Right. Anyway…"
Remus hadn't liked the plan. It was dangerous, it was illegal, it would be painful until his friends mastered the transformation, it was near impossible, and did he mention it was dangerous? But the offer was so tempting. To have company; that there were even people who would do that for him!
With reservations, and after lots of persuading from the other three, who could talk someone into just about anything, he had given in.
Now, he stared at the stag again and again in wonder. It wasn't just one of Sirius's wild ideas anymore. It was actually happening.
Peter had noticed Remus's silence. "James still is the only one who's close. Sirius is still trying to put all the parts together, and well…" He looked vaguely depressed. "Me, you know. I'm still struggling." Peter was very clever, but had a problem with practical application. While Remus liked to see everything having a tangible end, Peter was more scholarly. His one really good subject was Arthimancy (and soon he'd probably be one of the ones who could make three halves a whole). He understood the theory of that Animagus transformation better than possibly anyone else, but actually doing it was giving him a ton of trouble.
Remus smiled at him. "You will get it, Pete. You always do in the end."
"Thanks." Peter managed a listless smile in return.
" 'Will'? Sheesh, the full moon's tonight," Sirius said impatiently.
Remus turned to Sirius. "Sirius Black, you will not, and I mean not, rush this. It's not so important that you should mess it up."
Sirius held up his hands. "I know that tone of voice. We won't rush…" He sighed. Sirius hated to surrender. "But think. This may be your very last full moon alone."
"May be…" Remus glanced at his friends a second time. They were looking back. Suddenly he felt tears spring to the corners of his eyes. He could face insults and pain and hatred and fear and revulsion, but something about this overwhelming kindness made something in him break. "Thanks… so very, very much," he whispered. He gripped the rack next to him so tightly his knuckles looked like peppermints, red and white, blinking furiously and staring at the floor to try and hide it.
He felt James's nose rubbing his hand, and Sirius placing a hand on his shoulder. James looked up at him, saying very clearly with no words at all that it was all right. Confident his eyes were tearless, he looked into Sirius's pale blue eyes. Sirius was unsmiling but comforting.
Then Peter was in front of him. "You're welcome, Remus."
"Yeah. Anything for you, Rem," Sirius agreed.
"What did I do for this?" Remus asked aloud, then silently chastised himself. What sort of thankfulness is that?
"Nothing," Sirius smiled. "That's the point."
Oh, great. He was on the verge of crying again, just when he had recovered. He had to salvage this situation, and quick. "James? If you change back, we can go to dinner."
No one moved.
"Erm." Peter squirmed.
Remus's eyes narrowed abruptly. " 'Erm'? What?"
"Er, well, there's a slight problem there," Sirius said.
"Oh, no," Remus said, getting very fearful all of the sudden.
"James hasn't been able to change back," Peter confessed, wringing his hands.
"Revert to previous comment."
"And you are forbidden to tell us that you told us so!" Sirius warned.
*
Day: 5 Month: 11 Year: 1976
"I told you so."
Severus sighed. "Yes you did. I doubted your unquestionable word, and thou art right and I art wrong. Is your life complete, Cletus?"
Cletus stared before turning to the front again. "Yeah. Whatever that means. Who filled your knickers with ditherary thorns?"
"He's like that all the time," hissed Jeremy Kinser snidely. Kinser had a running grudge with Severus, stemming from a long ago incident concerning a puffeskein, one of Severus's favourite curses, a chess set with a few missing pieces, and the foolishness of first-years to not take Filch's more outrageous threats seriously.
But Kinser was wrong; Severus was not just "like that". He had a perfectly fine reason for being snappish - two reasons, as a matter of fact. Three, if you counted Cletus's "I-told-you-so".
Evan and Christoph had just followed Liqumbaug into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and between what Cletus had said and Severus's own logic, he knew exactly why they were here.
Liqumbaug, with the class's staffs on a slinged bag on his back, didn't convince Severus otherwise. "Ah, Monday morning yet again. Glad to see you're all awake."
Sheepishly, some students straightened in their seats.
"Thought so. With me are Misters Rosier and Wilkes, one of whom, I might add, is a sixth-year prefect." Several girls glanced at a certain badgeless, black-haired Gryffindor. "A prefect who, you know, actually takes points off for misbehaviour." His gaze, to Severus's satisfaction, fell on the bespectacled, dark-haired Gryffindor with a badge.
"Really? Thank goodness!" Potter nodded, leaning forward, talking fast and earnestly. "It's sickening, isn't it, Professor, those big bad prefects who turn a blind eyes to pranks and antics, and are friends with some rogue group of low-life marauders, and who even sometimes partake in that shocking misconduct themselves." He shook his head, sighing, the picture of sincerity.
Liqumbaug didn't join in the giggles. "I refuse to even dignify that with a response, Potter."
"Too late," Black whispered loudly.
"Don't try me so early in the morning, lads," Liqumbaug warned lightly. Potter and Black fell silent. "Rosier came to me with a proposition that some of the older students should observe some lessons, to offer help and to get an idea of your aptitude, since these days you can never be too certain those in authority will never need to know that information."
Scratch that, Severus thought grimly. Evan and Christoph, already Death Eaters and handily stationed at Hogwarts, were doing nothing more than scouting out talent for the Dark Lord and keeping an eye out on their greatest rivals, Gryffindor. Apparently the Dark Side didn't place any more firm faith in word of mouth than Severus himself did.
Evan and Christoph had seen the Slytherins practice, of course, but it had always been loose and casual. Severus's mind raced. If he did too well, they'd take him straight to the Dark Lord. He might he a Death Eater by this time next week. If he didn't do well, he'd lose his wild card, his card to convince them of his capableness. If they lost respect and forgot how dangerous he could be with a weapon, they'd start to badger him, stop letting him be his own boss. It was thin ice.
Just calm down, he reassured himself. You never show those fools how good you really are… yet everyone gives you a wide enough berth. He dragged his mind to what Liqumbaug was saying:
"… out in the corridor. As fairly mature young ladies and gentlemen, I trust you to line in an order that will not distract you from the task at hand. Rosier and Wilkes will be on the sidelines, out of the way, so no whapping them with your staff." He glanced at the Gryffindors before placing the staffs in a pile on the floor. "Up, grab, out, stretch, you know the tune." He led Evan and Christoph out of the door.
"Oh, my Black Marrria," warbled Black in an undertone, but apart from that the class was following the real tune, knowing the routine.
Most didn't own their own staff; so at the beginning of the year before each had found one of Liqumbaug's staffs that was to their liking. Liqumbaug encouraged them to take the same staff every time. Severus found his shortly - it was the nondescript, splintery one no one else wanted. He had never sanded it, enduring the marks they left on his hands, and no amount of pointy little wood could keep him from being quite possessive of it. He loved the staff, better than the sword. A staff was simple wood, a slightly refined stick; it was more primitive, not entirely forged and crafted by humans but rather by trees, humungous things that grew patiently from specks smaller than cornflakes. So small, insignificant, and how powerful they became, and look what they bore!
"Hey, twerp. That's Clet's staff!"
Severus rolled his eyes. It was Florence van Durischk, Evan's girlfriend. Tall, thin, rich, good bloodline, and snooty, she was Slytherin's unofficial queen since Narcissa Quiner had left. She was fiercely devoted to all Evan's friends… except perhaps Severus.
"N-No it isn't… it's - it's m-mine," Pettigrew protested, his hopeless stutter drawing sneers.
Florence and Cletus pried it from him.
"Hey!" Black cried, outraged.
"That is jolly well Pete's," Potter leered.
"Prove it," Cletus said.
"Peter's always had the short staff," Lupin answered. Severus noted how hoarse his voice was and glanced at his Defence Against the Dark Arts rival sharply. Potter had missed dinner last Friday night. Being the sort so popular he couldn't sneeze without being noticed, everyone realised that he and his friends hadn't been in the Great Hall, and there were rumours he had taken ill, as Bertha Jorkins had spread the word that Lupin had ducked into the hospital wing. Apparently the story really went a little differently (as it usually did when Bertha told it). Lupin was far paler than usual, with vivid circles around his eyes, while Potter looked completely healthy.
Florence snickered. "Fighting for the short stick, Petey dear?"
Pettigrew turned bright red but picked up another staff. Most on the receiving end of taunts turn the cruelest themselves; Pettigrew was submissive and known about the girls as the "sweet" one.
"Pete, don't you dare!" Potter fumed. "Avery, hand that over -"
"I'm getting no younger," Liqumbaug drawled from the corridor. "Now, please."
With a triumphant toss of gold curls, Florence smirked as she and Cletus left arm-in-arm.
Severus followed, not wanting to arouse Liqumbaug, ignoring the angry muttering of the knot of Gryffindors. Finding the empty corner of the roomy corridor, he set his staff down carefully and began his stretches.
"Mind if we keep a watch here, Sev?" Christoph asked in a casual undertone.
Severus looked up from the floor at Evan and Christoph, already pressed against the wall. He shrugged, unable to refuse but preferring lots of space during drills.
"Okay, set now," Liqumbaug ordered after a few moments of warm-ups and stretches. "Line." There was a rustle as they formed a long line with enough space to move. Evan stayed behind Severus. "Staff at rest position." Severus held his with the thicker end downward in his right hand, arms at his side.
He had been trying to avoid Liqumbaug's eyes, but was impossible. Liqumbaug caught his gaze, expression questioning.
This was the second problem. Their Friday conversation at the library was still on Severus's mind. As they began simple drills, he kept a sharp eye on Lupin.
Liqumbaug had discussed the glory of the Gathering, where one team from each magical school in the world showed. Several rounds of competition would determine the winner. Hogwarts hadn't one in a while - they were always impressive, close but not quite past the Keeper.
Severus would have liked nothing better than to win it - that might draw a word from Mother - but was practical. Worry about Hogwarts's competition first.
Then Liqumbaug had announced his ridiculous idea. Why not join up with Remus Lupin and make an invincible team, rather than be beaten by him?
The worst part was the idea did make sense; it simply went against every one of Severus's survival instincts - be a silver-blooded Slytherin… detest James Potter and everyone around him… avoid senseless Gryffindors… don't upset his Death Eater friends… don't do anything so radical he drew unnecessary attention to himself…
"Lupin doesn't pose a threat to me," he had scoffed, as if he hadn't just been worrying about that very thing. "Look at him. Honestly. If he could beat a flobberworm in a duel I'd be surprised."
"You know that's not true. Lupin's better than everyone but you."
"Yeah, Sir, I know that and you know I know that, but since you know I'm just putting on a good bravado, then pride is satisfied all around."
Liqumbaug had chuckled but made him promise to think about it.
Severus now watched Lupin, who looked exhausted. If it had been a sword he wouldn't've been able to handle it, even if his was probably half of what Severus's was, since Severus had allowed himself a little license with his own.
"Come, Miss Zandel, balance your weight a little more…" Liqumbaug was dropping little pieces of advice as he walked along the line. "… Miss Stacey, make sure the staff is straight… Pettigrew, try to keep in time… same for you, Black… Lupin, honestly, look alive and put some grip on that… Kinser, I'd like to see you repeat the Sunburst after class… Avery, stay with the others, I'll tell you when to go solo… Miss Hollins, if your knees were any straighter… " He pasted Severus without a word and Christoph smiled at him. Severus ignored it and continued to concentrate on the moves.
After about a half an hour, Liqumbaug had only corrected him once, telling him to relax his shoulder muscles. Severus considered purposefully messing up just slightly in front of the two Death Eater spies, but couldn't lower his pride that much and told himself that Evan and Christoph knew him too well anyway. Then the professor stopped them and told them to catch their breath and loosen up again.
"Now, as I'm sure you all know by now, you have O.W.L.s at the end of the year. Black, don't you dare open your mouth for any smart-alec remarks." Black's mouth, previously ready to talk, closed. "Thank you. As you should probably know but may not, your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. will consist of three parts. First, there will be your favourite, the written exam." Groans greeted this proclamation.
"The second part consists of a battle with a Dark Creature, the nature of which I'm keeping from you because I'm a hopeless sadist and want to see you sweat and suffer."
"Thank you, Sir," Dickon Bright, Severus's roommate, called back.
"You're very welcome, Bright. Lastly, you will be judged in three duels, using guess-which-three-weapons. There is, of course, also a preliminary duel during the Dueling in May, so I decided to combine them. Both your O.W.L. and the leave for you to participate in the Duels hinge on a duel with the staff, sword, and wand."
"Oh, great, lovely, wonderful," Pettigrew spoke up with false brightness. "Just what we need - more pressure."
There were several nervous laughs, but Liqumbaug smiled mirthlessly. "It can't hurt your performance, Pettigrew. We're therefore going to do even more practice battles. Since we have our staffs out and have a few minutes, let's try one." He pulled out a roster of the class. "We'll take one from the top - Avery, step up, please. Rosier?"
Evan handed Cletus arm padding and the "kill" positional cloth for the bridge of his nose.
"How shall we do it this time… Avery and Miss Zandel have battled often… we'll do it by alphabetical halves. Lupin, please."
Severus, remembering how tired Lupin looked, expected him to sigh silently. Instead several people cringed as Lupin stepped forward almost a bit too readily, glaring at Cletus. His eyes were blazing and his mouth was set. Severus was a little worried for Cletus. He knew when his father looked like that, someone was going to get it, and Cletus's taking of Pettigrew's staff was clearly still on Lupin's mind.
The line stepped back to give the duelists room. Evan grudgingly handed Lupin his gear while Christoph set up the thin sticks that showed how far back each could move.
"Next time -- Black and Miss Madison, you're on deck. The first two will be offence-defence practices, lads," Liqumbaug told them. "Lupin, as the so-called guest of this duel, you're on offence first. I hope it's not necessary to tell you both to bow."
They did so, Cletus quickly, Lupin not an inch lower than his beloved protocol demanded. At the signal Lupin stepped forward and brought the staff down at the ten-thirty o'clock. Cletus blocked it easily. Then, with two swift moves swift as lightening, Lupin brought his staff down on the "kill" cloth of Cletus's nose.
There was a stunned silence before the Gryffindors applauded wildly. The Slytherins, and even Liqumbaug, were unable to react a moment. No one, but no one, could remember an offence-defence practice ending with three swings of a staff.
Christoph was gaping, and Evan wasn't much better. "Merlin's wand!" he hissed to Severus under the noise of the Gryffindors' claps. "He's good! You never told me he could do that!"
"I never knew," Severus snapped. Stupid, really, to show you could do that just because you were angry at a friend being wronged. Now everyone knew what to expect from Lupin at a competition. But Severus was still put out because he knew quite well the feat had been highly impressive.
"But he ought to be disqualified," Florence spoke up with a sneer. "He isn't in the dress code. Aren't our robes supposed to be black, rather than grey?"
There were snickers, even from a Gryffindor or two. Lupin's faded robes were definitely in the neighbourhood of the latter. The object of the taunt, however, appeared not to have heard.
"Well done, Lupin," Liqumbaug said tonelessly after finding his ability to speak again, apparently as impressed as anyone else. "Miss van Durischk, with those earrings you're hardly in position to talk. Avery, your turn for offence."
"He didn't even tell Clet to remember to kneel," Kalona Hollins whispered in awe.
Cletus took much longer to succeed at his task. Lupin was apparently intent on causing Cletus as much embarrassment as possible and held back nothing, probably even a little reluctant that he must lose this in the end after all. After seven minutes in which there were several gasps at Lupin's underhand blocks ("I can do them better," Severus convinced himself) Cletus finally managed to just barely touch Lupin's "kill" cloth. Lupin knelt swiftly, nodding to Cletus, obviously just waiting for the actual duel.
Severus tried to get as much information on Lupin's style as possible during the duel. It didn't last terribly long, because despite Cletus's effort Lupin snatched the offence early on, but he was happy to learn that Lupin tended to swing too far to the right and that his uncut bangs often got in his way. This information might mean the difference between winning and losing at the Duels.
Lupin's face was impassive as his House mates cheered his victory. He was still fixed on Cletus. "I can see why you felt the need to steal someone else's staff," he said scathingly.
Cletus, already colouring, turned a deeper red, equal parts shamed and angry.
"Lupin, that was unnecessary. 'Trust thy weapon to do the talking, lest the blade of your tongue pierce thyself'," Liqumbaug said sternly.
Lupin lowered his head, fury suddenly leaving his eyes. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry. Cletus, I apologise for poor sportsmanship." The last sentence was said in a voice so stiff Severus could've dabbed paint on it and used it as a shield.
The sting of embarrassment shared and lessened, Cletus had looked to recover, but then Liqumbaug continued: "Avery? Tell Lupin you accept the apology."
Cletus looked up, incredulous. "But -!"
"Avery."
There was a moment of silence. "Apology accepted," he said resentfully at long last.
"Thank you. Well done; just remember your code of chivalry. All right. Kinser, if you'd co
me with me so we can go over your Sunbursts, and if the rest of you would give your staffs to Rosier and Wilkes, you're dismissed."
Lupin turned to hand in his staff and padding without another glance at Cletus, but Severus's prideful friend wasn't over. "You just wait, Lupin!" he called. "Just wait until the Duels, when Sev and I beat you in front of the whole school. You won't hold your head so bloody high then!"
Lupin faced him coolly. "What do you mean, 'Sev and I'? If you beat me, it'll be Snape that does it, not you."
Cletus turned to Severus for support. Severus had to shrug. There was little else to say. Cletus had lost terribly and shown how incompetent he was. Besides, although suddenly the thought of fighting against Lupin was a bit more frightening, his mind was on another matter. It was the way Evan and Christoph kept glancing at him sideways, murmuring to each other. Severus overheard "useful" and "pleased" as he tried not to stare at their forearms, where the Dark Mark surely glared amusedly at him from beneath the black of their robes.
"How can we understand riots by the people for the people
Who are only destroying themselves?...
I'm just a-wandering this earth,
Meeting so many people who are trying be free
And while I'm traveling I hear so many words...
And you're the only other person to know"
-- "I'm Just A Singer In A Rock-n-Roll Band", The Moody Blues
TBC
