Shuffle
Chapter 2
It Started in the Broom Closet

The funny thing about games of chance is that you can't control what's going to happen.

Take this game for example. Buckbeak looks at me funny when I start cursing at the cards, but what does he know about gambling anyway? Bloody noble creatures, those hippogriffs are. Never thought one would be keeping a Marauder company when I first learned about them in Care of Magical Creatures class. Goes to show everything's relative, or some post-modern bull shit like that.

Padfoot was once picked up by a nihilist on the outskirts of Liverpool, on his frantic flight from Azkaban. Don't really remember it much, but I know I'd have run away if I'd had the strength at the time. Like some strange dream, he kept saying "I'm a nihilist. I believe in nothing" over and over. I stayed a while because he handed out tasty scraps. Still, I got out of there as fast as I could. There's something about a man who believes in nothing that makes you feel empty inside. Even dementors can offer you despair.

I frown at the cards in front of me. If only I could move my jack of spades I could get to my ace of hearts and really get the game started. I've got the king of clubs free, but no red queen.

I move a few other things around, hoping something will come up. I really want to win this time. I've had a delicious chocolate frog hidden away in the back corner of my little cave for two weeks now, another gift from Hermione, and as soon as I win at this horrible muggle game, I'm going to eat it. I don't know how much longer I can be patient. A man's willpower only goes so far until his stomach takes over.

* * *

The NEWTS, as it turned out, were the least of the Marauder's worries. Despite Peter's whining and Sirius' grumping, and amid James' impatient sighs and Remus' calm explanations, the NEWTS grew closer and closer each day. Unfortunately, as the days grew shorter, so did tempers and so the morning before the Potions NEWT, the first one they'd sit, the Marauders found themselves quite unexpectedly huddling underneath their single invisibility cloak crammed inside a small broom closet. They managed to stay quiet for quite some time, ears straining to catch any movement out in the halls, but finally Sirius couldn't take it anymore.

"Mister Mooney, that bloody sharp elbow of yours has been in my side for the last half hour," he grouched, pushing his friend, which started a chain reaction that ended in a loud crash as half the buckets and most of the brooms landed on their heads.

James got up with the feathers of a duster stuck in his unruly hair and a look of pure annoyance on his face. "Are you trying to get us found out, Mister Padfoot?" he demanded.

Sirius looked just as annoyed as he stood. "Certainly not anymore than you are. Whatever happened to inside voices?" he asked, looking ready for some action. He was not a fan of tight spaces and tended to become a bit unpredictable when stuck in them for long periods of time.

James snorted. "Inside voices left with the great bloody racket you just made. Why don't we take this outside if you're so ready to move."

Peter stood watching the two, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. He looked to Remus as though he wanted to defend James, but was a little frightened of the wild look in Sirius' eyes. Remus sighed and stepped in between his two friends about to come to blows.

"Stop it," he ordered. "You're both being huge gits. Nobody came to check out the noise, so we're obviously not going to get caught in here. Sirius, you could've asked me to move my elbow before pushing. James, Sirius didn't mean to knock down all this junk. Now let's leave and get back to the Gryffindor hall before the Slytherins or the professors catch us here."

At the word 'Slytherin' all the tension left the air as the marauders remembered who really held the blame for this situation. Sirius left first, wrenching open the door while muttering about the 'mother-loving Slytherin gits' under his breath as he marched out of the closet. James went next, saying something to Peter about 'giving them a taste of their own medicine' while Peter followed, cheering him on at random intervals. Remus went last, shutting the door behind him, and was about to tell them to keep it down, they weren't out of trouble yet when he walked into Peter who had stopped short before him.

"Wha-?" he started to ask, before a body flew into him. He landed hard, the air squeezed out of him, with James' voice in his ear. "Stay still," James whispered, and was gone. Angry that his friend thought he needed protecting when there was still three days till the full moon, Remus rolled over, coughing, and sat up. He knew immediately why James had told him to stay where he was.

Peter stood in front of him, wand extended, his arm trembling as he fought to hold back a huge cloud of liquid silver. Remus could sense the magic surrounding the silver mass, in particular, he could sense the particular tracking spell that aligned itself to werewolves. It made his nose itch and he had to fight the urge to sneeze. Peter seemed as though he barely had control of the silver, and any move on Remus' part would send the thing careening off in another direction in its attempts to reach him. He doubted Peter would have the skill to capture it a second time. For a wizard of Peter's skill, it was amazing he had gotten it once.

A brief look around revealed to Remus why neither James nor Sirius were at Peter's side. In addition to the silver missile, someone had unleashed a great number of boggarts and the creatures were attacking from both sides. Sirus was behind Peter battling at least twelve images of his screaming mother, and Remus could hear James behind him casting the Ridikkulus charm over and over. Whatever he was fighting wailed again and again, setting Remus' hair on end.

Remus stayed still as Peter's arm trembled more and more, yet his friend never let go of the giant glob of silver. An eternity passed with the two of them frozen like that, and just as Remus was sure that Peter's control was finally going to waver there was a final, triumphant shout of 'ridikkulus' from behind them both and the sound of footsteps. James ran up beside Peter, aimed his own wand, and shouted "prester immobilis." Peter's arm collapsed limply against his side and he stood breathing hard, while James held the silver at bay.

Sirius ran up moments later, a rather hassled look on his face. "It's hard to make anything about that horrible woman funny," he muttered, then took a glance at the silver mass. He flicked his wand, said "perdamentia", and the silver glob solidified into an orb. Sirius' eyes narrowed in anger as he looked at the metal ball floating in front of him. "Slytherins," he growled. "They think they can one up us? They'll pay."

"Sirius," Remus called quietly when his friend looked as though he would march down to the Slytherin dungeon and duel every student down there single handedly. "Wait."

Sirius whirled around, his anger not the least bit deterred. "What, Mooney? They made this for you! A trap to catch a werewolf. Don't tell me you can sit back and just let them do this to you!"

Remus nodded. "I can and I will," he said calmly, "and you will too. Just think what they'll say if you go storming off to my defense."

Sirius found no humor from Remus' attempt to lighten the mood. It was James who finally broke the tension. As they had talked, a light sweat had appeared on his face. Apparently holding the silver orb was not as easy as he made it appear. "A little help here, mates," he said. "The tracking spell's still on the silver. As soon as I let it go it'll fly straight into Remus and Peter didn't go to all that trouble to see that happen because we're a bunch of old men who like to talk."

Peter beamed at the praise and reenergized quickly, offering several suggestions of how they might remove the spell, none of which seemed particularly practical but since he had just saved Remus' life as Sirius and James were busy with the boggarts, no one really minded much. Finally, with a totaralius extralius spell, Remus himself disbanded the spell and the silver orb dropped loosely from James' control. James gave a sigh of relief, rubbing his wand arm after the strain of holding the orb.

Once the orb had fallen limp at their feet, Sirius picked it up and looked at it with narrowed eyes. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to take you down, Moony," he said quietly. "Not many people know about you. In fact, I can think of only one Slytherin who would know exactly how dangerous silver could be to us."

Remus was about to protest when James stepped forward. "And just whose fault is that?" he asked.

Peter stepped up behind him. "Yeah, whose fault?" he echoed. "There's only one person here who's ever let the Marauder's secret slip."

Sirius hurled the orb at the wall with such force that the perdamentia spell shattered, sending pieces of silver splattering across the room with a great crash. "Keep your parrot on your shoulder where it belongs, James," he growled. "And don't take the high and mighty route with me. You're no better than I am and you know it."

James held Peter back when it seemed the smaller boy might try to defend his honor. He answered Sirius himself. "You're no better than the Slytherins," he told his friend. "Trouncing around with the Black fortune to back you up whenever you go wrong. And you've certainly shown what honor and loyalty mean to you. How'd you ever get into Gryffindor?"

Sirius turned and walked stiffly down the hall, silently. It was his silence that worried Remus the most, his silence that made him move after his friend, his betrayer, to call his name. "Sirius, wait!"

Sirius stopped but did not turn around. His shoulders slumped, unusual for him, who was usually so arrogant. When he didn't speak, Remus began, searching for words.

"D-don't listen to him." Lame, Mooney, was all Remus could think. What a horrible way to end this conflict.

Sirius, apparently, thought so too. "Don't tell me what to do," he told Remus coldly. "You'd better go to Madam Pomfrey and get some balm for your arm. Sorry about that. The famous Black temper and all. You can't trust a Black, you know."

As he disappeared around the corner, Remus finally looked down to the burning on his arm. A glob of silver clung there, likely splattered from the silver orb shattered in Sirius' fit of frustration, forgotten in the face of his friends' argument. Remus hated when his friends fought, especially over him, but, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop it, he went along quietly with James to the infirmary where Madam Pomfrey treated his injury, clucking her tongue at him and his silly ways of finding silver in the strangest places. All the while, however, his thoughts remained fixed on his friends' argument, the likes of which was becoming more and more common every day. He silently hoped it wasn't something permanent, yet had a feeling that a wedge had been driven between James and Sirius that would keep them at arms length indefinitely.

TBC…