CHAPTER SIX

To top off all the strange events of the day, James received two owl posts during dinner at the Great Hall. One was a long awaited package containing norvacal, one of the vital ingredients needed to make a memory recovery potion for Remus. The other was a letter from his mother, informing him that she'd been injured in the line of duty, but it wasn't anything serious, and she'd be using some of her sick leave to help teach a couple of Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, and she might see him soon.

"Who's the letter from?" said Sirius, craning his head to read over James' shoulder.

"My mum," said James. "She was injured."

Sirius' face darkened. "Is she all right?"

Remus swallowed the food he'd been chewing, and said, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Peter said, "That's terrible. But she's all right, eh? How did she get injured? Was it in a fight with a Dark Wizard?"

James frowned at the letter, and shook his head. "She didn't say."

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. "Then it must not have been too serious."

James pushed away his worry, and shrugged. He cleared his throat. "We've got the last ingredient. I say we brew the potion tonight."

Sirius, Remus, and Peter exchanged looks. Finally, Peter said, "How about after dinner? We can sneak out to the Shrieking Shack."

"Good idea, Wormtail," said James.

James was distracted that night, and Potions was one of Remus' weaker subjects, so in the end Sirius and Peter took over the majority of the potion brewing. While the potion simmered, Sirius, Remus, and Peter left James to himself.

Sirius couldn't leave off the subject of the spell Harris used. "…that was my spell. I spent all summer researching it, then adjusting it to come out that color. All right, I admit he could have come across the same spell, but the original spell called for a smoke colored dog, sort of a misty white, not a black one."

Peter nodded along with agreement, while Remus' eyes remained glazed over. While Sirius continued his rant, Peter nudged Remus on the shoulder. Remus startled, then shrugged in a sheepish manner.

"You're absolutely right, Padfoot," said Peter. "But I think we should check on the potion now."

The potion was a pale, translucent blue, and smelled vaguely of mint and mist.

"Well," said Remus, while Peter measured out a goblet full for him, "at least it'll taste like mint."

"That would be the rosemary," said Peter, handing over the potion. "Though it might not taste as it smells."

The potion tasted like corrugated rust, and the bitter remnants of tea steeped too long. Sirius, Peter, and James watched Remus carefully. Remus' head fell back, eyes shut and moving behind his lids as if rapidly scanning a page.

"Well, Moony?" said Sirius, unable to take the suspense. "Have you remembered who hexed you, yet?"

Remus' head lolled towards Sirius' voice. He opened his eyes. "I now remember what really happened to Mr. Bobo, but not why I rode a hippogriff."

Sirius, Peter, and James exchanged glances.

Peter said, "Who's Mr. Bobo?"

"My pet puffskein when I was four," said Remus. "I'd witnessed him being attacked by a garden gnome, and my parents performed a memory charm to keep me from remembering." He shook his head. "I'd wondered why Mr. Bobo suddenly gained weight and had darker fur."

James lifted a ladle full of potion, and inspected it. "Are you sure this potion works right?"

Peter consulted the book they'd got the potion from. "Yes. Translucent color. Smells faintly of mint. Moony, did it taste like rust?"

Remus nodded and grimaced.

"It worked," Sirius growled, offended. "Moony remembered Mr. Bilbo, didn't he?"

"Then what went wrong?" said James. "Should we wait longer, or give him another dose?"

Remus paled. "I'd prefer if we wait."

A half hour passed. Remus took another dose of the potion, and recovered more memories of his early childhood, and claimed he now remembered his own birth. The four friends were stymied. They argued for a while over what went wrong, and what could possibly have happened before they grew tired, and decided to sneak back into Hogwarts.

When they got to Gryffindor Tower, they found Lily Evans sitting by a window. Evans sprang up from her seat, and stalked over to them, eyes scanning them. She stopped in front of James, one hand thrust into a pocket.

"Have you done anything to Harris—Harry?" she demanded.

"What?" said James, taken off guard.

"I heard about the fight earlier," she said, eyes tracking from James to Sirius to Remus to Peter. "I swear, if you've done anything—"

"What makes you think I did anything?" said James, too confused to be angry.

"Where is he?" said Evans, taking her wand out of her pocket.

James shook his head. "Who? Look, I don't know what's got your knickers in a twist, but you can't go blaming me for everything that goes wrong."

Evans gave James a hard stare. "He hasn't come back yet. Pomfrey said he'd be healed up enough to stay in Gryffindor."

"Why would we do anything to Harris? The poor bloke's already lost a fight to us," said Sirius.

"We didn't do anything," said James in a curt voice. "I don't appreciate how you immediately assumed the worst about me."

Evans crossed her arms, and glowered. "Well, you certainly haven't done anything to make me think otherwise."

Remus stepped forward, jostling Peter's elbow. "Look, we don't know where Harris is. So there's no need to go hurling unfounded accusations."

She shook her head, then her eyes narrowed, and she once again looked at the group of boys, sizing them up. "See that it stays that way."

"What's your business with Harris?" said James.

But Evans was already heading towards the girls' dorm.

"Why exactly do you fancy Evans, again?" said Sirius.

James shook his head. "I swear, she's usually not a nutter."

000000

Harry slumped into Gryffindor at the break of dawn, weary and ill at ease. After spending a good while stewing in his own thoughts in the cave, he'd walked back and snuck into the Hogwarts library in order to research what went wrong with the Interstitial Spell. At some point, he'd fallen asleep without Occluding his mind, and had restless dreams consisting of trying to catch snakes in a shaking room, while lightning flashed and air raid sirens boomed, and a group of strangers told him to work harder, and called him Tom. He'd woken up with his scar burning, a sense of aching loss and abandonment, and realized that he'd been sharing Voldemort's dreams.

He trudged up the stairs, decided he didn't have time to sleep in a bed, and got ready for the day. When he went back down the stairs, Lily Evans was in the Common Room pacing back and forth.

When she saw him, she strode towards him, and said, "Where were you? Did they do anything to you? You can tell me."

"What?" he said, confused.

"I didn't see you last night. You weren't at the infirmary, or here."

"I just…I had things to do," he said, then he added, feeling awkward, "I'm sorry if I worried you."

"I wasn't," she said, averting her eyes. "Come on. We should hurry, or else we'll miss breakfast."

The journey to the Great Hall was tense, with Lily darting looks at him from the corner of her eye, and Harry at a loss as to what to say. When they reached the lower levels of the castle, that was filled with more people, Lily pointed out who to avoid and watch out for, especially the more pureblood fanatics who harassed the muggleborn.

"Hang on, what do you mean?" said Harry, after Lily had pointed out several people.

Lily gave him a blank look. Across the corridor, someone said, "Mudblood," but Harry didn't see who, and no one in the crowd of students blinked an eye or turned around.

"How can they get away with hexing the muggleborn and saying things like that?" he said, recalling the hostility he'd encountered in his second year when everyone had thought he was the heir of Slytherin.

Lily blinked. "I suppose things really are different in the future," she said, her brisk mannerism dropping away. "Right now, there's a lot of hexing in the corridors against the muggleborn. So much, that you practically need a couple of protection charms just to get from class to class."

"But that's only people like Mal—like only a few pureblood families in Slytherin," he said.

Lily nodded. "That's why I pity the Muggleborn who had the misfortune to be sorted into Slytherin. They've got it a lot worse. Other houses, they've got their share of fanatical idiots, but Slytherin seems to have the nastiest ones."

Harry stared at her in astonishment. He'd never thought about Slytherin House as having any Muggleborn. He'd always assumed, not having given it much thought, that Slytherin was made up of purebloods. But hadn't Tom Riddle, a half-blood who was muggle-raised, been sorted into Slytherin? Harry rubbed his forehead, and shifted his schoolbag.

"I hadn't thought about it much, but the future must be really different," said Lily, startling him out of his thoughts. There was a soft, contemplative expression on her face. "So much that I take for granted, changing with time—Don't even think about it!" she shouted to a Ravenclaw boy, who made a rude gesture at her which she ignored in favor of turning to Harry. "If you could just tell me, just a little bit about the future, that things are better…that the war's ended…"

Harry ducked his head. "I can't tell you. I shouldn't have even told you about who I really am."

"I thought not," said Lily, looking away. She stopped outside the doors to the Great Hall to gave him a warm, considering look. "I suppose if the future is different, then you must be confused. Look, if there's anything you want to ask, about now," she made a face, "It's funny, thinking of the present as the past—anything you're confused about, just ask me."

"All right, thanks," said Harry.

They entered the Hall, and sat down at the Gryffindor table. During breakfast, Harry snuck looks at Lily, and once caught her giving him an uncertain look herself. They flushed at the same time, and stared at each other. The stalemate was broken when the owls flew in.

Grateful, Harry seized the topic. "I've been wondering…Lily," he said, trying out the name, "What are those owls with the black envelopes?"

Lily shifted in her seat. "They're from their parents. Or the Ministry," she said in a quiet voice. "Black envelopes are mourning stationary."

"Oh," said Harry, at a loss as to what to say. He counted at least twenty envelopes. He watched as a girl in Ravenclaw burst into tears when she saw one heading for her, then sagged with guilty relief, when the owl flew past her to the girl sitting beside her.

"The future must be better, if you don't know what they are," said Lily, watching him.

Harry thought of the articles in the Daily Prophet's new weekly column on Defense Against the Dark Arts, of the nightly dreams of Voldemort, of Sirius lost behind the Veil, of Cedric's death in the graveyard, and the D.A. meetings. He suppressed a pang of longing for Hermione and Ron. He wasn't sure what they could do to help, but he somehow felt things would be better if they were there with him.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry," she said.

"If I told you things--I really want to--you don't know how hard it is not to," he stammered out, glancing further up the table at Wormtail, who was currently slopping marmalade on his toast and robes, "I might change things for the worst. Make it so that I don't get born."

He almost told her, anyway.

00000

James and Sirius came up with the idea while serving detention. This came as no surprise, as they came up with their best pranks during detention, while their hands were busy and their minds were free to wander, and they had a co-conspirator a call away with the mirrors they carried. And as James said to convince Remus and Peter, they'd already done the research and it would be a waste if they didn't pull the prank.

Remus agreed on the condition that, "I suppose if it only lasts for fifteen minutes, there can't be any permanent harm to it." He smiled. "I'd love to see how the Slytherins react."

Peter, as always, was enthusiastic. "That's just brilliant, James! I bet it would also be easy to get away with. No one would be able to trace it back to us."

"I think they would," said Remus, frowning in thought. "If we were the only ones to remain unaffected."

Sirius gave a shrug of indifference. "So what if we get caught? It's well worth it."

"Do you think it's too like the prank we pulled in fourth year?" asked James.

000000

Two days later, during dinner at the Great Hall, the Marauders waited for the students to drink their pumpkin juice, avoiding the drink themselves. The prank was started at the Hufflepuff table, by the quidditch team who had just come in from a grueling practices session, and were quite thirsty. The team captain leapt onto the table and started belting out the Screaming Banshees' newest song, while the Keeper, a burly seventh year with a heavy brow, started singing along in a cracked voice. The Seeker and a Chaser started shouting that the Screaming Banshees was rubbish, and Illyria was a better band, and started belting out lyrics. Gideon Prewett leapt up and started doing Illyria's famous dance steps, and was soon joined by other students, even from other Houses.

James snorted. "I knew he was a pillock. A disemboweled cat can sing better than Illyria."

"I believe you're referring to the Screaming Banshees. They make my ears bleed," said Sirius, glaring at James.

Remus and Peter exchanged amused looks, but said nothing.

One Hufflepuff climbed onto his seat, and shouted out, "I'm gay! I'm sick of hiding it. I'm gay!"

Several Hufflepuffs shouted back, "Took you long enough, Stan!" while a first year Hufflepuff girl wailed, "Noo! You can't be! I love you!"

"Oh, look at the Ravenclaw table," said Remus, grinning from ear to ear. "Never knew they had it in them."

Peter, looking over, said, "I'm not surprised. It's always the quietest ones that surprise you."

The Ravenclaws were waging an epic food fight. One enterprising Ravenclaw started transfiguring the food, and they could see purple tentacles and green pustules being flung about.

Quirrell, the normally quiet sixth year, was the rowdiest, yodeling and flinging peas and carrots everywhere, and was the first to start throwing purple tentacles at the other tables. The younger Gryffindors started to retaliate.

James looked over to the Slytherin table, and sighed. "I knew it was too close to what we did in fourth year."

A Slytherin couple had fallen to the floor and was snogging madly at the feet of a girl who was sobbing on her friend's shoulder. Another group was dueling. Snape, to the Marauder's disappointment, seemed to be unaffected, and was pulling mysterious potions from the depths of his robe, and putting drops of them into the food. A good half of the Slytherins had caught on, and were eyeing the food warily, and were getting up and leaving the Great Hall.

Regulus Black made his way across the tables, got tripped by a turkey with spider legs, scrambled up, and stood in front of Sirius. Regulus' eyes were unfocused. "I've been wanting to say this for a while."

Sirius scowled, and got up from his seat. When James started to rise up from his, Sirius waved James down. "Yeah?" he said, scowling. "What do you want?"

Regulus said, "I just wanted you to know, Sirius, that even though you might not like us anymore, I still think of you as my brother."

The scowl melted from Sirius' face. "You mean it? I'm mostly mad at Mum and Dad, anyway."

Regulus nodded, and said, "I have faith in you. I know you'll come around. You'll see the error of your ways."

Sirius turned red, and he stepped away from Regulus. "I don't want the faith of a brainwashed idiot who believes everything Mummy and Daddy tells him."

"But it's common sense!" Regulus shook his head. "Mudbloods will be the downfall of our society."

James stood up from his seat, wand in hand. "How's this for family? Because you're Sirius' brother, I'll let you off. But the next time I hear you say it I'll scrub your tongue right out of your mouth."

"Don't do me any favors, Prongs," said Sirius, glaring at Regulus. "I'm only related to him by an accident of birth."

000000

The pumpkin juice left a bittersweet aftertaste in his mouth, and a great buzzing fog filled Harry's head. He turned and saw Lily, his mum. "May I have a hug?" he heard himself saying to his own surprise.

Lily put down her goblet, and blinked at him. "No. I'm not your mother, I don't know how to be a mother. I'm sixteen years old. I don't even know what I'm going to do after I leave school."

"Maybe that's for the best. Not being my mother might save your life," said Harry, and felt something pelt the back of his head and run down his collar.

"You've got peas in your hair," said Lily, grinning.

"So do you," he said. "Mashed potatoes, too."

"Here, let me," she said, and started picking the peas out of his hair, then giggled, and ruffled his hair, mashing the peas in.

Harry stared at her, gaping.

Lily giggled again, and turned her goblet into a rat. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that." She propped her elbow in the middle of her plate, and gave him an assessing look. "Maybe I'll end up married to someone who looks extraordinarily like Potter, and end up lying to you about who your father is."

"Just as long as it isn't Snape, or something like that," said Harry.

Lily's eyes widened in surprise. "I don't think Snape looks all that much like Potter." She frowned in thought. "Except, well, they both have black hair, and they're both tallish, and on the thin side. Aside from that, not much else, except they take great pleasure in the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, but that's all. Come to think of it, they're both purebloods, too. Oh, one more thing, I'd rather not spend any more time than I have to with either one of them."

Harry looked over to the Slytherin table, where Snape seemed to be threatening to brain Professor Ochem with the pumpkin juice pitcher, so vehement were his arms waving about, while he shouted something at the teacher.

Harry groaned. "With the way things are going, Snape will end up being my father."

"All right, I've had enough of this," said Lily, smacking her hands on the table, moving aside when a first year grabbed her plate and threw it like a Frisbee at the Ravenclaws. "You have no father. In fact, you were born out of an egg, or out of a thigh, or something like that."

"I'm beginning to think that would be better," he said. "Not having to worry about whether you could live up to your parents, whether they'd love you, or be proud of you. I don't much care what a bird or a thigh thinks of me."

"That's the spirit," said Lily. "I wish I was born from a bird. They can't order you about, especially on things they don't understand, or force you to clean your room. My room's not messy, it's just organized in a creative way."

"Well," said Harry, working this out. "If we're both descended from poultry, what does that make us?"

"If it was the same one, then related in some way," said Lily. "I suppose I can manage to hug a long lost relative," she said, and gave him one, and held on, despite the way her blood burned in her veins and her skin crackled with power.

000000

"Mongrels would be a better set of parents than them," said Sirius, so worked up, he never noticed when a flying plate nearly clipped his head. "I'd rather be raised by werewolves."

"No, you don't," said Remus, putting up a shield in time to block a flying, headless turkey.

"Well, maybe not werewolves, but wolves, great rabid ones, raising me in the wild. At least then, I'd be sure to get plenty of fresh air," said Sirius. "Or even Muggles, yeah, they'd be better. I'd almost rather be a, a Squib than related to them."

"Well, bad luck for you, Padfoot," said James in a half-mocking tone. "You'll just have to settle for a bunch of blood traitors."

Sirius sputtered to a halt, not even flinching when something wet and slimy hit him in the back. He said hoarsely, "James…"

"I'm certain it was all a mix up at birth, and you're actually the result of a three-legged mutt and a lamp post," continued James, in the same tone.

"Hah! Better than being the spawn of a rail and a flobberworm," said Sirius, too busy laughing to get fully out of the way of James' tackle.

Peter stared at the two boys wrestling on the food laden floor. "They did remember that the pumpkin juice was fixed, right, Moony?"

Remus sighed. "They don't need anything. They come by their insanity naturally."

Two shouts of indignation came from the floor; Sirius and James scrambled to their feet and drew their wands out.

"Those are fighting words, Moony," said James.

"I'll have you know we're as sane as…help me out here, Prongs," said Sirius. "Prongs?"

James was looking down Gryffindor table, a dark look on his face. "Who's the bloke Evans is hugging?"

00000

Author's Notes:

Britni Puccio—Thanks. I figured it was logical, Remus was: the only competent DADA teacher, giving Harry private lessons, and bound to be giving him some kind of tips whenever he was in Grimmauld Place.

Leontine-456—Snape will be around, and he will have a bigger role a couple of chapters in, but I won't be focusing on him much. Thanks for the feedback.