DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters of the honourable J.K Rowling

The Truth

PRONGS

Tuesday 10th of February

Hello Diary, how's your day been? I'm feeling ok at this point, because I've only just woken up and it's just after midday. I was still sleeping off the effects of my night of horrors, the memories of which I am sure will soon come flooding back to plague my waking hours. You see, I was too highly-strung and eager for information about the state of things (which I did not receive) to do any sleeping on the train trip from Hogwarts yesterday, so I was completely stuffed by the time I got home to my anxious mother and confused father late last night.

As far as I can make out, the deatheaters captured on Sunday night are still being interrogated, so we don't know anything. Dumbledore told us briefly at breakfast yesterday morning (in a most unsatisfactory way, the tired, irritable students felt) that the Ministry of Magic was back in our control, and as yet a list of anyone hurt or killed has not been released. This was not comforting to anyone whose family works at the Ministry. It looked as though we would be off school for a week, or possibly more, while the authorities debated security issues and got the magical community back in order. Dumbledore was confident, however, that his school would continue to be run, and assured us that he had no intention of letting it be closed down as he firmly believes it to be the safest place for us and regards the deatheater invasion as a freak accident and warning to be more vigilant. He also added something about how Black, Potter and I had performed great service to the school in a daring rescue attempt and would be awarded house points, et cetera et cetera.

Everyone, of course, was still eager to hear exactly what part the three of us had had in the action, and Celine had to literally man-handle Lina Matherson (who's father is in the magical law enforcement squad at the ministry) and the others as they sobbed about how I was 'with holding information' and 'being unutterably unfair'. The truth was, I had no idea what to say and my brain was too tired to work out all the facts. Especially concerning Remus Lupin, who had insofar not appeared, much to my relief. Potter stepped in and told my distraught dorm-mates off, which was rather nice of him. He said something about how we didn't know anymore that they did, and that he'd already told them all he could last night. They shut up at once after that, which made me wonder exactly what he had said to them when I had left him in it the night before. When I expressed my humble thanks, he just winked and said,

"What are friends for?" He obviously felt no ill-will about my abrupt departure last night. That brings me around to my latest bit or irrational behaviour, but I'll get to that later on.

During the rest of breakfast, I could see that Celine, seated beside me was itching to ask questions herself. She was torn between being a good friend and ripping the truth out of me with her bare hands. I could tell this because she had one freckled arm draped comfortingly around me, and the other hand drumming impatiently on the table. She alternated between gazing understandingly at my hunched figure and glancing around to hear what Potter and Black were talking about, which was, frustratingly for her, mostly impossible since they were talking in low voices and hardly moving their lips. Tory snuck over to join us after a while, looking drained. She smiled at me, but I could see she was dying to know what I'd been up to the night before. To my dismay (I'm not sure if dismay is what I really felt, but its close enough), as soon as Tor sat down, Black turned his attention away from Potter toward us.

"Tory," he said, nodding in an unusually serious tone. Tory nodded back a little self-consciously and would probably have smiled had I not fixed her with my best piercing glare.

"Have you heard from your aunt, Sirius?" she asked casually, causing my eyes to pop out of my head.

What? Black's Aunt? What did Tory know about Black's Aunt? Had they been holding secret discussions about their extended families behind my back? Why had I not been notified of any conversation Tory might have had with Black meaningful enough to reach the topic of his Aunt?

No one seemed to notice that I was doing fish impersonations again, because Black continued,

"Oh, I will do soon, I think. Andromeda's been working on her." Andromeda, Black's cousin, was a short, stately Slytherin girl with bobbed brown hair and dark eyes. Did Tory have secret liaisons with her, too, then?

"Well, it's good you have some relatives you can rely on," said Tory sweetly, and Black grinned genuinely back at her. What was going on? Was this quiet, meek, kind little Tory involving herself in flirtatious smiling behaviour? And at a time when everyone's lives were at stake due to an evil dark wizard with a sizeable army? It was incomprehensible. I risked a glance at Celine, and saw that she was watching me with this horrible smirk on her face. The smirk she always does when she knows that I've been completely blown away. Like the time in fourth year when she'd told me she'd slept with Lucius Malfoy, (who was, at the time, a much sort after seventh-year Slytherin) and I'd actually believed her. Potter, too, was also looking at me as if gauging my reaction and smiling to himself. I turned back to Black, who was still grinning a little too widely for someone who had lost his brother the previous day and chatting amiably to my obviously very impressionable friend. Anxious as I was to know when, where and how this strange understanding had sprung up between Tor and Sirius, I wasn't fool enough to say anything there and then, so I concentrated on my porridge and let the conversation wash over me.

After breakfast, the teachers were intent on getting everyone out of the castle and onto the train as quickly as possible. I have never seen Professor McGonagall so stressed.

"Lily," she said (and she hardly ever uses first names), "Stop dithering around! You're responsible for getting the entire first year out onto the grounds! Evelyn Spike is still in the dormitories, I saw her rush up there wailing about her lost diary, the silly fool, and I'm sure Jason Michaels is up to no good – he's been experimenting with those yo-yo things from Hogsmeade-"

"Professor," I replied tiredly, "Evelyn is safely out in the courtyard, Tory found her diary for her-"

" – and you get Potter to help, he's not doing anything, chatting away to Black-"

"Professor-"

"Oh, no, Professor Lallie is telling those third years to go out the side entrance! I specifically told her to direct them to the entrance hall-"

"Professor,"

"Sirius Black, get away from that suit of armour at once!" and with that, she rushed off to stop the crime, real or imagined, that she felt Black was about to commit. I wondered idly if I should at some point advise McGonagall to try out some relaxation activities, like yoga for example, to prevent future heart attacks. I giggled to myself about the idea of Professor McGonagall doing yoga exercises, and went about my business.

By five past eight, the entire school (excepting those who were picked up by their parents), was safely installed in the compartments of the Hogwart's express and Celine, Tory and I were slouched in our seats ready for the long day of travel.

"So, Lily," said Celine, as soon as the bustle of last-minute luggage checks and arguments over seating arrangements had died down and the train was relatively quiet, "Now we're all alone, I see no point in beating about the bush-"

"Yeah," put in Tory, "Potter said something about broomsticks and pretending to be deatheaters?" she looked at me expectantly, with the air of one who did not quite believe what she was saying but was confident of the matter being cleared up in due course.

"Potter said something?" I began, stalling for time, "You sure it wasn't Black? You two seem to be getting pretty chummy-"

"Haha, you were really poleaxed by that one, weren't you, Lily?" cackled Celine, momentarily distracted, "You should pay more attention to your friend's private lives instead of obsessing over certain roguish quidditch players-"

"Celine," I spluttered, "I do not obsess over Potter! When have you seen me obsessing over Potter? Ok, I admit I've been busy latterly, and not paying enough attention to you guys-"

"Bullocks, you had him at your house last holidays, you had that huge fight – sexual tension if you ask me – and you've been so caught up in his detestability, or attractiveness, or whatever, that you didn't even notice that our Tory has found herself a love-interest-"

"Love-interest?" Not to mention this most un-Celine-like terminology, I had not even considered the possibility that Tory had indulged in anything more than casual flirting…

"No!" cried Tory, who had been trying to get a word in edgeways for some time now, "Sirius isn't my love interest, so far we're just friends-"

"So far?"

"Yes, Lily, so far!" Tory glared at me defiantly, her cheeks pink, and I shut my mouth abruptly. Sirius Black's face rose up before my mind's eye. He was hot-headed and quick-tongued, and during his younger years he had regarded those who did not reach his high standards with withering disdain. He was excitable and prone to fits of mad exultance, and he enjoyed picking fights with larger opponents. Yet I did not really know him that well, and I didn't really have the right to tell Tory she couldn't go out with him. It was just that I could not imagine the two of them together, and, if I am truthful with myself, I did not want to lose Tory to unpredictable Sirius Black. Trying to piece together a coherent sentence, I screwed up my face to the words, and I must have looked amusing, because Celine began to laugh again. Tory was blushing dreadfully now, and I cringed,

"I'm sorry, Tor, I just, well – you know-"

"Lily, if you can be friends with James Potter, then I can be friends with Sirius Black," she said anxiously, and I felt my eyes widened,

"Who says I'm friends with-"

"He did," interjected Celine, between peals of mirth, "His exact words were, 'Celine, do you know, I think I've finally brought Evans round,' and then I said, 'What are you talking about, you git,' and then he said 'Evans said she'll be friends with me', and then I would have said, 'Goodness me, pigs have finally flown,' but at that moment-"

"So it's all ok!" interrupted Tor, a little too loudly. I held my head in my hands and groaned. I then realised that I had a splitting headache. Celine was still giggling,

"Geez, you two make it hard on yourselves. All this embarrassment and denial. With me and Toby, it was just 'Will you go out with me?' and then 'Yeah, sure,' and then, a couple of weeks later, snoggity snoggity-"

"Shutup, Celine! Do you want to here what happened last night or not?" I cried, prepared to do all manner of explaining to get her out of this strange, babbling mood she was in. It worked. She stopped behaving like tipsy hyena and sat up straight, staring into my face as if I were about to impart the meaning of the universe. I exchanged an exasperated glance with Tory and, to avoid all further grievances, ceased to beat about the bush.

After I had divulged everything I thought relevant about my courageous deeds (I did not, for example, think that the whole dare-devil-flying-on-Potter's-broom episode was relevant. Also, I did not think it wise to tell them about Lupin), and took a deep breath and sat back. My friends, though suitably impressed, were (in Celine's case) annoyed I hadn't asked them along and (in Tory's case) dissatisfied with my piece-meal knowledge of Voldemort's motive and the Hogwart's situation. After we had dwelt on my words for a few minutes in silence, I decided that knowing Celine, in depth questioning about my new found friendship with Potter would soon commence, so I told them a half-truth about 'head-girl duties' and departed from our compartment with the promise that I would 'come back soon'.

I made my way quickly towards the prefect's carriage. I was unsure if I was required to do anything, but anything was better than explaining to my friends why, precisely, I had decided that Potter was worth more than two pins after six years of bitter complaining about his character flaws. I didn't even have a clear idea of that myself. I reached the prefect's carriage in time to see Jude Maloney aim a punch at Peter Blanc's head.

"Hey!" I shouted, powerless to stop the inevitable cry of pain and fury as Blanc threw himself at Jude and began to pummel him. Not caring who had started the fight or why it had happened, I shot an immobilising spell at the pair of them.

"It'll wear off in a couple of minutes. Don't fight on the train," I mumbled, and continued on to saner pastures. Obviously the prefects weren't doing anything useful, so I followed their example and attempted to find an empty compartment. Perhaps I could catch up on a few hours sleep. But it was not to be; everywhere was filled up, with prefects and friends of prefects, who had been smuggled into the more comfortable accommodation granted to the exalted few Dumbledore had favoured. I doubtfully opened the door to the very last compartment, and would have shut it again had James Potter not looked up at that precise moment.

"Evans," he said, nodding courteously. He was sitting by the window, facing someone else who was lying stretched out along four seats on his side, his face hidden by a cloak.

"Sorry," I muttered, "I thought it was empty, I'll just be going-"

"No, stay. We're friends now, remember? And we need to talk." He didn't smile but, something in his face made me sit down beside him. I remembered the snarling visage of Lupin the night before, and my mysterious animal saviours. Perhaps now I was going to get an explanation. But none was forthcoming. Potter looked as if he were going to say something for a moment, but then quickly turned away and began to gaze out the window. After about five minutes of this, I began to feel rather annoyed.

"I hear you saw fit to tell Celine you'd 'finally got through to me'," I said, more abruptly than I had intended. His head snapped around and he met my eyes fiercely for a moment, and then looked down sheepishly,

"I'm sorry…I just…well, she was being really irritating, and I mean, I had to say something…" 

"Do you think you've achieved some great feat, now, Potter? Finally nailed me, have you?" I felt suddenly very angry. I thought he had been completely genuine the night before, but now I had my doubts. Maybe I was just another feather in his cap, another of the few people who didn't worship him won round…

"No!" he said vehemently, "That's not how I think of it! I was just…well, happy,-" here he looked distinctly embarrassed, " – and, well, I just couldn't help myself…I don't know, I'm sorry…" he trailed, off, waving his arms around and looked so miserable that I felt my heart melt at the sight of it,

"Alright," I said grudgingly, "We'll move on from that. What we really have to talk about is…well, Lupin, I suppose." My words seemed to suck away the haziness that seemed to have filled my head upon entering the room. Everything suddenly seemed clear-cut and stark. The sound of the chugging steam train hammered into my skull. Potter took a deep breath.

"Lupin. Well, what do you want me to say? You saw. He's a were-wolf," Potter didn't look at me. I gathered my thoughts,

"Yes," I said, "But Potter, you're not going to get out of it that easily. You knew about Lupin already, obviously, and so did the teachers. But what happened to you and Sirius? And those animals, the deer and the dog, where did they come from?" Potter grimaced and took of his glasses. Rubbing his eyes, which had bags under them, I now noticed, he rose and gently shook the person lying opposite him, seemingly asleep,

"Moony, wake up," he said, confirming my suspicions about the identity of the unknown boy. As Remus Lupin lifted the cloak from his face and slowly sat up, something else hit me with the speed of a bullet, and another piece of the puzzle clicked into place,

"Moony," I said softly, thinking of the sorrowful howl I'd heard the night before, "Moony…Ha…oh, God-"

"Evans," said Potter gently, as I unconsciously got to my feet as if to leave. He pulled me back,

"Just, wait," I looked back across at Lupin, who appeared to be gathering himself together, his mouth a thin line and he eyes hard. I noticed recently healed scratches scored across his knuckles, and long thing scar running just below his jaw line. For the first time I saw the grey in his sandy hair, and noted that he was pale as death.

"I'm sorry about last night, Evans," he said simply, looking directly into my eyes. Fearfully, I tried to look away but found I couldn't. I could see that he registered the horror in my face, but I could do nothing about it. Were-wolves were something even muggleborns like myself had been taught to fear. When I was about six, I watched a movie about a were-wolf, and now I can't even remember what it was called. But I do remember that it was the first horror film I had ever seen, and that it scared the living daylights out of me. I think it probably scared me more than a real live were-wolf attack had managed to do, which is strange to think.

"I was bitten when I was seven years old," Lupin continued unwaveringly, though I was surprised he didn't faint dead away with his pallor, "There's not really much to tell. Dumbledore let me into the school out of kindness…I doubt anyone else would have accepted me…I go to a special location every month, every full moon…to make my transformation, and so far it has worked. Last night was a mistake, I couldn't find madam Pomfrey, and I had to warn Dumbledore about the deatheaters…" he trailed off, and looked away in shame, but Potter gripped his shoulder,

"Of course you did, mate, only thing you could've done." I stared at the pair of them, and began to feel, to my astonishment, an almost painful compassion for Lupin. He'd been bitten as an innocent child, and had to live with all this pain since…keeping it a secret…it was amazing his three friends had stuck by him, knowing what they did. Even I, as an ignorant muggleborn, knew the kind of prejudice that would surround any known were-wolf. 

"I could have killed someone. I could've killed Lily Evans if you hadn't been there, James," said Lupin after a while, covering his face with his scarred hands, "It's just too dangerous…we can't do it anymore…" I looked up with a start. Now he had lost me. What was he talking about? If James hadn't been there? If the deer hadn't been there, more like…

"Come on, Moony," said Potter, "It was alright. We were there-"

"But it was a near thing-"

"Everything was a near thing, Moony! Life is a near thing!"

"Why do you keep calling him Moony?" I interrupted suddenly, "It's horrible, why would he want to be reminded-"

"Evans, it's a nick-name – he agreed to it, he helped think it up, that's the other thing you don't understand-" Lupin held up his hand and spoke,

"James, it's all right. Lily Evans, I can't tell you how sorry I am about what happened. I don't expect you to accept me for what I am…I couldn't ask it of you…but I beg of you - " here Lupin's expression became heart-renderingly pitiful – " – to please don't tell anyone about me. Dumbledore knows, so it's not against the rules or anything, and truly, I promise to stay away from you-"

"Oh, stop it," I cried, and found that my voice came out in a sob, "It's alright. Of course I won't tell – I mean, if you're telling the truth, which I think you are – it's not your fault. I know all about were-wolves! I did a huge research assignment on them last year! And of course you don't have to a – avoid me!" He stared at me in surprise and then threw some indecipherable look at Potter.

"Well," he said at last, "It would be insulting of me to say I am surprised, but you must understand that yours is not the usual reaction upon finding out someone is a were-wolf." I nodded,

"I'll admit it, I felt scared last night, and I still feel scared. But I don't think I'll be scared of you Lupin, just…"

"What I'll become?" he asked sadly,

"Yeah." My voice was very soft, "I hardly know you, Lupin, we've hardly spoken all these years, but I think I should apologise for something." The thought had occurred to me moments before, and I was suddenly anxious to get it out. Lupin's bloodshot eyes widened slightly and I ploughed on,

"I'm afraid I've always thought you…I don't know…a bit weak, you know, a follower…and, well, now, after all this, I know I was terribly wrong. Being able to deal with this is not…not being a coward…it's amazing bravery." I finished, blushing. Lupin stared at me for a while, his mouth slightly open. Then he grinned, and it lit up his whole face,

"Thankyou," he said at last, standing up. "I'm going to see the trolley lady, I missed out on breakfast – James can explain the rest," and with that, he limped out of the compartment, closing the door quietly behind him. Suddenly I realised I didn't want him to go and leave me alone with Potter, and I half rose to my feet.

"That was nice, Evans," said Potter, who didn't seem to notice, "I'm glad you know now. It makes Lupin feel better, the more people who know and don't mind." I blushed again and nodded,

"I suppose it's none of my business, how you three knew about Lupin and all. But there's still one more thing," I said, and Potter flashed me a resigned look.

"I know," he said, "I was hoping you'd have forgotten-"

"The stag. And the dog. They were not normal animals. And where did you and Black get to after he tried to attack me?" I was determined to get the answer now. It had been bugging me all night, "Wait, I remember, Sirius said 'we'll have to change,' or something like that, and you said 'what about Evans?', and-"

"Hang on, Evans. You don't know what you're asking. Sirius and Peter said I could tell you if I thought it was really necessary – depending on how much you'd already worked out. And I don't think you have the slightest clue, so it might be better just to leave it alone. Forget all about the stag." He was talking very fast.

I stared at him, at a loss for words. What could I say now? I had a right to know what had saved my life, didn't I?

"No! You have to tell me! What secret can be more important than Lupin's? I won't tell anyone, I swear, I just  have to know!" I was practically begging him, I knew, but for some reason I was incredibly anxious to know the truth. I can't tell you exactly why. Potter put his glasses back on from their third or fourth cleaning that day and fixed me with a intense glare. His face was closed and I could not read anything of his thoughts, so I simply stared pleadingly into his face like the silly fool I am.

"It's not really any of your business," he whispered at last, and suddenly he was gazing into my eyes almost fearfully, "Yet, I want to tell you…I want you to know…" I was utterly transfixed, so I remained silent. Potter seemed to reach a decision,

"Evans…you must promise not to tell anyone about this…this could get me, and Moony, and Padfoot and Wormtail into the most terrible trouble…but if I told you…you must promise…" he trailed off, and my breath caught in my throat.

"Is it…illegal?" I asked, and kicked myself at once. But Potter only smiled grimly,

"Oh, well, you know, strictly speaking it is, but we're not hurting anyone." I nodded mutely. Maybe I didn't want to know…

"So, do you promise? I can tell you won't let this go if I don't tell you, so its better if you promise now," Potter had now put his glasses back on, and was wringing his hands together nervously. I'd always known there was something strange going on within his little gang, and I'd been through all the various unlikely possibilities, but now it seemed I was about to get the full truth. Did I want the full truth? Did I want to be drawn, however unwillingly, into the world of the Marauders, most probably never to return?

"I'll…promise not to tell…as long as it's harmless. No offence, but if you're involved in some kind of scam-"

"No! it's nothing like that. We just bent the rules a bit…to help out a friend."

"Well, alright, I promise not to tell," I said, trying to sound strong. I found I really did want to know. Potter sighed, and grinned,

"I seriously never thought I'd be telling you this, Lily Evans," he said, and I rolled my eyes,

"Oh, just get on with it!"

"Alright, alright. Well, I suppose I'll start at the beginning,"

"That's always useful," I said, and winced at my own stupidity.

"Don't be smart with me, Evans, I'm the King of smart-"

"You're the king of stalling, more likely-"

"We've only been friends for one day, Evans, the fragile bonds holding us together cannot withstand this kind of-"

"Potter,"

"Ok. The three of us - that is, Peter, Sirius and I, figured out about Remus around the middle of second year. We checked the lunar charts and realised that he was disappearing suspiciously at the same time every month. And, being the fool-hardy young things that we were-" here he caught my eye and grinned, " – we decided that the only thing to be done was to become animagi," here he paused to see if I had understood. I hadn't, of course,

"Ani…animagi?" I asked, astounded, "You can't possibly tell me-"

"Oh, yes I can. I – I was the stag, Evans, and Sirius was-"

"You were the stag!" facts were rearranging themselves in my head at lightning speed. Potter was an animagus. Potter had changed into a deer in order to save me…

"Yeah, it took us about three years to learn how to do. You see, we could see how lonely and horrible it was for Moony, locked up in the shrieking shack – you know that place in Hogmeade? That's where he makes his transformations normally – so, yeah, we knew that a were-wolf is only a danger to humans, so if we became animals, then we could be with Lupin when he transformed. We were able to keep him under control, me and Sirius - 'cause we're big animals, and Peter – he's a rat, well, he helped in other ways. The first time we did it, it was scary as hell, I can tell you, but brilliant, too. After that, we saw no reason why we couldn't let Moony out for a run on the school grounds – he was more himself when he was with us – not so violent, you know. Ever since then we've been going out every full moon – all night mostly, and it's been the time of our lives. As animals, we can go anywhere – we know Hogwarts and Hogsmeade back to front, as you can see from that map we made, we've spent the last three years marauding, Evans, if you -"

"Wait a second," I said in a hushed voice, struggling to take it all in, "Are you saying that you, as what, fifteen-year-olds, learned to be animaguses? And that you've been running around the school grounds every month with a full grown were-wolf?" I stared at him, my expression, I suspect, a mixture of horror and amazement. He merely nodded, and looked a little less tired than he had a moment ago.

"Dangerous, I know, but-"

"Dangerous? You let a were-wolf run rampant around a populated town where people might feel safe enough not to lock their doorsat night?" My voice was tumbling over itself to get it all out, the sheer audacity of Potter's actions was mind-blowing. When people call him supremely self-confident, they aren't kidding.

"It's under control, Evans, we've done it so many times – there's no chance that Lupin could-"

"Oh yeah, how about last night?"

"That wasn't anything to do with me," he said strongly,

"So? That could've happened-"

"Evans, if it hadn't been for me and Sirius, Remus would've changed in the Great Hall," he said it as if this settled the matter.

"Still," I said, "How can you live with the possibility that something might go wrong?" It was incomprehensible to me.

"Must be my brazen nature, I suppose," said Potter flippantly. I glared at him, wiping the smirk from his face. We sat in silence for a while, and then I said,

"Not that I'm not touched by your loyalty to your friend. I suppose it's your business how you express it, but I can't say I approve." My voice was a tad nervous, but Potter smiled at me,

"Thanks…I think," he said quietly, and I was grateful he didn't make some crude joke about earning my approval. I looked at the floor,

"I can't believe you managed to become an animagus," I muttered. This was true, the skill required to change into an animal at will is something few ever achieve, much less three apparently extremely juvenile young boys. In fact, most wizards are discouraged from attempting the feat, as it can have nasty consequences if done incorrectly. Needless to say, it is completely illegal to endeavour to do it without ministry approval. The only other animagus I had met up until this point was Professor McGonagall, whose iron will would probably shake the foundations of the earth if she wanted it to. I always known that Potter and Black excelled in most academic pursuits, but this was beyond anything they could possibly have learnt at school. Their determination to attain their animagus forms must have been incredible. It didn't add up with the blatant arrogance and carelessness they had displayed during their fifth year.

Potter was also studying the carpeted floor,

"It was the hardest thing I've ever done," he said honestly, "It took a monumental amount of research – not something I was accustomed too at the time – and there were many failed attempts. We were astonishingly careful, though, Moony made sure of it. He thought we were going to kill ourselves over it, I think, -" here Potter beamed reminiscently, "But eventually it worked. Because, you know, once we got started, it was kind of hard to let go. We were a bit obsessed, I think, and when we actually did it, well, Evans, I'm afraid you don't know the meaning of the word arrogance. We were literally over the moon – haha – there was nothing we couldn't do!" he grinned with something of the mania of the previous night in his eye. I had an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"You could've been splinched," I muttered, "Very irresponsible, imagine if Professor McGonagall had found out…I mean, it's amazing you…"

"That's just it Evans, McGonagall didn't find out. And no one ever will, will they?" suddenly he looked very forbidding.

"No," I mumbled, "I just, I don't know…"

"A crime enough to land us all in Azkaban, of course," said Potter, "And now you're an accomplice!" he grinned wickedly,

"I am not!" I cried,

"You are! You know all about it now! There's no going back!" he got up and began caper around the compartment, "Evans is a criminal, Evans is a criminal!"

"I am not a criminal. You are a criminal, James Potter," I said indignantly, "You are going against the fair and just system that assures us all our safety, and will probably meet a very sticky end because of it-"

"Alright, calm down, calm down, I was only joking," said Potter condescendingly, as I were over-reacting or something, "There's nothing I can do about it now, is there? And it's not as if we're harming anyone by being animaguses-"

"You would be if you were persuaded to join Voldemort," I said coolly, without thinking about it. Talk about putting a damper on the party. Potter's expression went from light-hearted hilarity to and ugly scowl in seconds,

"I would never – Sirius and Peter would never – join Voldemort," he snarled and I tried to push myself further back into my seat,

"Geez, cool it Potter, I was only joking," I said, and I was unpleasantly surprised to hear my voice had taken on a rather nasty note. Potter suddenly blinked and shook his head as if to rid himself of his ill humour, and laughed,

"Don't take that tone," he said, "It doesn't suit you." I was going to attempt to reply cuttingly, but then an overpowering curiosity overtook me,

"Potter," I said quickly, "Could you change now? Into a deer? I don't really remember what you look like." I flushed horribly and wondered wether this was an appropriate request. But, after all, Potter had said we were friends now, even if had accused him of future liaisons with Voldemort.

Potter flashed me an odd look, raising an eyebrow. Then he rose and walked to the door, and I half thought he was going to leave because I had somehow insulted him. But he merely poked his head out the door, glanced dramatically around as if he were about to sneak in and rob a bank or something, and popped back in, muttering a spell under his breath to lock the door. He then turned around, standing in the space between the seats and grinned at me in an embarrassed sort of way. My stomach jerked almost painfully, and I inwardly rolled my eyes at myself.

"Well, Evans, let me formally introduce you to Prongs," said Potter. I looked at him, and one moment he was there, one moment he wasn't, and the next, standing in his place was the stag. Prongs. He was a beautiful creature, I have to say. Long legged and lithe, he was almost completely dark brown, with some lighter fur inside his ears and on his stomach. The shaggy, mane-like fur around his neck was soft and shiny, and the curving antlers that protruded from his shapely head gave him a thoroughly majestic quality. But there was something a little too human about the way he stood, four-legs almost crossed before him, heavily lashed eyelids covering his eyes as he glanced shiftily around the room as if my staring was making him uncomfortable. Daringly, I stepped a little closer, because it did not seem as though I were actually beholding the real James Potter anymore. He was infinitely less disconcerting as a stag.

This feeling evaporated when I caught sight of his eyes, however. McGonagall had remarked, when explaining animagus transformations to us in third year, that certain characteristics often transferred from the person's human form to their animal one. In McGonagall's case, it was the thick, square rimmed classes she always wore that showed through on her cat's face. Potter's fur was too dark to show any markings that might be reminiscent of his glasses, but his eyes were distinctly Potterish. Like most deer, his eyes were large and liquid, but they weren't the usual animal brown. They were hazel – with large flecks of green, and they sparkled with laughter. It was this laughter that caused me to do the stupid thing. Now, as you may have noticed, I am continually performing random acts of stupidity, but this really was one of my more idiotic.

I reached out my hand and gently stroked Potter's furry face. Ok, so I was stroking a deer. Fine. You could compare this to Theresa Grey being powerless to restrain herself from gathering up any small furred rodent or feline that crosses her path and doting upon it. And it was kind of like that – I just did it automatically, unthinkingly. But this deer was James Potter, and as my skin made contact with his, he gave an involuntary shiver (which seemed to wrack his entire body) and seemed unable to stop himself from popping back into his human form. Which left me, of course, with my hand resting lightly on Potter's cheek. It probably took me a split second to remove the offending extremity, but it seemed like an age as I watched Potter's eyes bulge out of his head and the blood flood into his face. I waited for him to laugh if off and reassure me that it had only been a wayward yet bitter breeze that had somehow found its way into the carriage, causing him to convulse violently and thereby shocking him into changing shape. I waited for myself to laugh and explain to him about my incorrigible urge to pet all furred animals that I chance to meet and that he shouldn't take it personally. When it became obvious, after several minutes, that neither of us were inclined to say any such thing, I muttered something about needing to check on Jude Maloney and Peter Blanc to make sure they hadn't killed each other yet.

Potter didn't attempt to follow me after that, thankfully, and for the rest of the train trip I made a business of patrolling the corridors of the train (although not the prefect's one) and making a general annoyance out of myself. I bumped into Remus Lupin on his way back from the trolley lady, laden with pumpkin pasties, and I gave him an uncharacteristic pat on the shoulder and an unconvincing smile. He shot me a bewildered look and I continued to make my way along the corridor, poking my head into compartments and saying things like,

"Is everything alright in there?"

It wasn't until I'd got of the train, bidden Tory and Celine goodbye and was standing in a sea of late-night commuters in Muggle London that I remembered that I hadn't told my parents I was coming home today, so they wouldn't be there with their nice warm muggle car to pick me up. Even worse, I had no change to call them and no owl to owl them. Whimpering, I kicked my suitcase, received an odd look from the porter and heaved my luggage onto a trolley. Whilst cursing myself for not taking my apparation exam, stroking Potter's head, and agreeing to being a bridesmaid for Petunia on Wednesday, I rattled over to the nearest timetable to see how I was going to get home.