Chapter Two: Marauders Met
Ermengarde went down into the common room very early the next morning, pacing back and forth, watching the sky slowly turn to a steely gray streaked with gold. It was a cold sort of morning, one of those days that feels like mystery. The Hogwarts grounds had never looked lovelier, Ermengarde thought, gazing at the melting frost on the grass and the windowpanes, seeing small ripples in the lake, watching as leaves swirled by, carried on the wind.
"Who's there?" came a voice from behind her. She jumped and turned to see a boy standing at the top of the staircase. She did not recognize him.
"Ermengarde Switoviak," she replied.
"Who?" the boy asked.
"Ermengarde Switoviak...fifth-year...quiet..." Ermengarde trailed off.
The boy came down the stairs and gave Ermengarde a puzzled sort of look. While he studied her, she did the same to him. He was soft-featured with a few scratches on his face and neck and light brown hair – or was it dark blonde? – In which, curiously enough, Ermengarde could see one or two gray hairs flecked around his temples. She knew his face, but couldn't put her finger on it. She had never seen him in the Gryffindor common room before...
"Well," said the boy suddenly. "I...guess we've just never met."
"No, I don't suppose so, though I'm not surprised. There are plenty of people I've never met. I'm not what you'd call well-known."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," said the boy.
"Well...my name is Ermengarde...but you already know that," said Ermengarde lamely.
"I'm Remus. Remus Lupin. My friends sometimes call me 'Moony', though," said the boy.
Ermengarde froze as though Petrified. Lupin? As in Professor Lupin, the werewolf? How could that be possible? Lupin was a full-grown man, not a fifteen-year-old boy. Lupin was a professor, not a student. Lupin...
But as these thoughts raced wildly in her head, three more boys came down the staircase, chattering rather loudly for such an early hour.
"...didn't even see me coming, did he? 'Course, all that grease must get in his eyes, so I guess he couldn't see a dragon coming, either..." one of them was saying. That voice sounded so familiar.
"Well, Prongsy old pal, I think we've showed him for the last time," another said.
Ermengarde's heart began hammering riotously in her chest as the boys came closer and she saw who they were. The first with the familiar voice had to be James Potter, because he looked unerringly like his son...his future son. The second was exceptionally handsome, with dark hair hanging loosely in his eyes and dark, piercing eyes. The third boy, a squat sort of fellow with watery eyes walked a step or two behind the other two, following them adoringly.
"Moony! You're up early...I'd have thought you'd be exhausted after—" the dark-eyed one began, but Remus interrupted.
"This is Ermengarde," he said sharply, clearly wanting to stop him saying something.
Dark Eyes looked at Ermengarde with much interest. He almost seemed to be sizing her up and she didn't like it one bit. James noticed him looking and nudged him, snickering. Dark Eyes, rather than looking embarrassed at having been caught so blatantly staring, laughed too. The third boy didn't say anything, but kept twitching his nose in a rather odd manner, much like a rodent would.
"You new, Ermengarde?" asked Dark Eyes. "I haven't seen you around."
"Er – yes," said Ermengarde. "I'm a fifth-year. I was...I was at another school...I was studying abroad. In France, at Beauxbatons."
"France? Wow," said James. "I hear Beauxbaton's really good."
"Yes, yes, it is," said Ermengarde.
The fact that she had already lied about her education was making Ermengarde feel rather sick to her stomach. She kept hoping that she wouldn't have to lie about anything else, but had the distinct feeling that she probably would.
"So, who have you met so far?" asked Dark Eyes.
"Well...not you yet," she replied, hoping that she sounded cool.
Dark Eyes let out a barklike laugh and grinned. "My name's Sirius. Sirius Black."
Ermengarde's heart skipped a beat. Sirius Black? The one whose face had been plastered in the Daily Prophet for the past three years was standing right in front of her? The one who had been convicted of selling Lily and James Potter to You-Know-Who was laughing and introducing himself to her casually? It hardly seemed real.
"Nice to meet you, Sirius," she said softly.
"And I'm James Potter," said James.
"I know," said Ermengarde before she could stop herself.
"Oh?" said James, surprised.
"I – I saw you yesterday. You – you were talking and I heard," she said pathetically.
Remus indicated the watery-eyed boy behind Sirius and James. "That's Peter Pettigrew back there."
Peter gave a feeble wave and a twitch of his nose. Ermengarde nodded back, too shocked by what she was facing to give any other response. She realized that she had just met the creators of the Marauder's Map, the map she had once seen in Lupin's office...of course, that had been twenty or so years in the future...that thought made her head swim again.
"Well, then, Ermengarde, who're you sitting with for breakfast?" asked Sirius.
"N-no one," said Ermengarde.
"Sit with us, then, why don't you? There's always room for one more," said Remus.
"Or two, if someone ever gives James the time of day," said Sirius slyly.
James bristled slightly. "Eventually...you'll see."
"If you say so," said Sirius. James punched him on the arm.
As the boys led Ermengarde to the Great Hall (which she pretended she didn't know the way to), she pinched herself several times to see if she was, in fact, either dreaming, knocked out, or having a very bizarre reaction to some sort of potion or magical plant from classes. The pinches left bruises and red marks, so she stopped, satisfied that what she was experiencing was real.
"...so what about you, Ermengarde?" Sirius was saying.
"Sorry?" said Ermengarde, who had been gazing at the portraits on the walls, which were different from the ones she was accustomed to.
"I was asking what you thought of the Slytherins," he said.
"Oh," said Ermengarde. "Oh...um...they're...well, I don't know any of them well enough to pass a judgment, but they don't seem like the most pleasant group, do they?"
Sirius seemed happy enough with that response.
"Obviously, you haven't met Snivellius," said James.
"Who?"
"It's their nickname for Severus Snape," said Remus softly. "He's...not the most pleasant, like you said. In fact, he's probably one of the least pleasant of the lot."
"He's a right slimy git, really," said James. "A greasy piece of work, that one."
"Now, now, Prongs, play nicely," said Sirius with a hearty laugh.
"I will if he does," muttered James.
"You'd hex him if he showed up at breakfast with flowers and Honeydukes chocolates for you!" said Remus, who was not laughing.
A flash of reluctant agreement flashed in James's eyes, but just as soon as it had come, it was gone, and James was sniggering again.
"Knowing him, the chocolate would be covered in oil and the flowers would wilt from his stench."
Peter spoke up, saying, "That's right!"
Ermengarde kept her mouth clamped tightly shut, and for good reason. She knew that Snape was horrible, but she had always had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason he was so was because he was unhappy. She wondered whether or not these boys were the reason for his discontent. Well, James and Sirius, anyway. Remus was far too kindly, it seemed, to want to hex anyone on purpose, and Peter didn't seem to posses the skill or the nerve to.
They entered the Great Hall, found seats, and Ermengarde helped herself to toast and coffee, all the while thinking, Why am I here? Why isn't Harry here, talking with his father? How did I get here?
Remus was eyeing her oddly, but every time she caught his eye, he quickly looked away. Sirius and James were deep in talk about Quidditch, while Peter and Remus were carrying on an odd half-conversation about Cheering Charms.
I suppose I'll get my answers soon enough, thought Ermengarde, and she took the plate of strawberries that Remus had just passed her and piled some onto her plate.
Ermengarde went down into the common room very early the next morning, pacing back and forth, watching the sky slowly turn to a steely gray streaked with gold. It was a cold sort of morning, one of those days that feels like mystery. The Hogwarts grounds had never looked lovelier, Ermengarde thought, gazing at the melting frost on the grass and the windowpanes, seeing small ripples in the lake, watching as leaves swirled by, carried on the wind.
"Who's there?" came a voice from behind her. She jumped and turned to see a boy standing at the top of the staircase. She did not recognize him.
"Ermengarde Switoviak," she replied.
"Who?" the boy asked.
"Ermengarde Switoviak...fifth-year...quiet..." Ermengarde trailed off.
The boy came down the stairs and gave Ermengarde a puzzled sort of look. While he studied her, she did the same to him. He was soft-featured with a few scratches on his face and neck and light brown hair – or was it dark blonde? – In which, curiously enough, Ermengarde could see one or two gray hairs flecked around his temples. She knew his face, but couldn't put her finger on it. She had never seen him in the Gryffindor common room before...
"Well," said the boy suddenly. "I...guess we've just never met."
"No, I don't suppose so, though I'm not surprised. There are plenty of people I've never met. I'm not what you'd call well-known."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," said the boy.
"Well...my name is Ermengarde...but you already know that," said Ermengarde lamely.
"I'm Remus. Remus Lupin. My friends sometimes call me 'Moony', though," said the boy.
Ermengarde froze as though Petrified. Lupin? As in Professor Lupin, the werewolf? How could that be possible? Lupin was a full-grown man, not a fifteen-year-old boy. Lupin was a professor, not a student. Lupin...
But as these thoughts raced wildly in her head, three more boys came down the staircase, chattering rather loudly for such an early hour.
"...didn't even see me coming, did he? 'Course, all that grease must get in his eyes, so I guess he couldn't see a dragon coming, either..." one of them was saying. That voice sounded so familiar.
"Well, Prongsy old pal, I think we've showed him for the last time," another said.
Ermengarde's heart began hammering riotously in her chest as the boys came closer and she saw who they were. The first with the familiar voice had to be James Potter, because he looked unerringly like his son...his future son. The second was exceptionally handsome, with dark hair hanging loosely in his eyes and dark, piercing eyes. The third boy, a squat sort of fellow with watery eyes walked a step or two behind the other two, following them adoringly.
"Moony! You're up early...I'd have thought you'd be exhausted after—" the dark-eyed one began, but Remus interrupted.
"This is Ermengarde," he said sharply, clearly wanting to stop him saying something.
Dark Eyes looked at Ermengarde with much interest. He almost seemed to be sizing her up and she didn't like it one bit. James noticed him looking and nudged him, snickering. Dark Eyes, rather than looking embarrassed at having been caught so blatantly staring, laughed too. The third boy didn't say anything, but kept twitching his nose in a rather odd manner, much like a rodent would.
"You new, Ermengarde?" asked Dark Eyes. "I haven't seen you around."
"Er – yes," said Ermengarde. "I'm a fifth-year. I was...I was at another school...I was studying abroad. In France, at Beauxbatons."
"France? Wow," said James. "I hear Beauxbaton's really good."
"Yes, yes, it is," said Ermengarde.
The fact that she had already lied about her education was making Ermengarde feel rather sick to her stomach. She kept hoping that she wouldn't have to lie about anything else, but had the distinct feeling that she probably would.
"So, who have you met so far?" asked Dark Eyes.
"Well...not you yet," she replied, hoping that she sounded cool.
Dark Eyes let out a barklike laugh and grinned. "My name's Sirius. Sirius Black."
Ermengarde's heart skipped a beat. Sirius Black? The one whose face had been plastered in the Daily Prophet for the past three years was standing right in front of her? The one who had been convicted of selling Lily and James Potter to You-Know-Who was laughing and introducing himself to her casually? It hardly seemed real.
"Nice to meet you, Sirius," she said softly.
"And I'm James Potter," said James.
"I know," said Ermengarde before she could stop herself.
"Oh?" said James, surprised.
"I – I saw you yesterday. You – you were talking and I heard," she said pathetically.
Remus indicated the watery-eyed boy behind Sirius and James. "That's Peter Pettigrew back there."
Peter gave a feeble wave and a twitch of his nose. Ermengarde nodded back, too shocked by what she was facing to give any other response. She realized that she had just met the creators of the Marauder's Map, the map she had once seen in Lupin's office...of course, that had been twenty or so years in the future...that thought made her head swim again.
"Well, then, Ermengarde, who're you sitting with for breakfast?" asked Sirius.
"N-no one," said Ermengarde.
"Sit with us, then, why don't you? There's always room for one more," said Remus.
"Or two, if someone ever gives James the time of day," said Sirius slyly.
James bristled slightly. "Eventually...you'll see."
"If you say so," said Sirius. James punched him on the arm.
As the boys led Ermengarde to the Great Hall (which she pretended she didn't know the way to), she pinched herself several times to see if she was, in fact, either dreaming, knocked out, or having a very bizarre reaction to some sort of potion or magical plant from classes. The pinches left bruises and red marks, so she stopped, satisfied that what she was experiencing was real.
"...so what about you, Ermengarde?" Sirius was saying.
"Sorry?" said Ermengarde, who had been gazing at the portraits on the walls, which were different from the ones she was accustomed to.
"I was asking what you thought of the Slytherins," he said.
"Oh," said Ermengarde. "Oh...um...they're...well, I don't know any of them well enough to pass a judgment, but they don't seem like the most pleasant group, do they?"
Sirius seemed happy enough with that response.
"Obviously, you haven't met Snivellius," said James.
"Who?"
"It's their nickname for Severus Snape," said Remus softly. "He's...not the most pleasant, like you said. In fact, he's probably one of the least pleasant of the lot."
"He's a right slimy git, really," said James. "A greasy piece of work, that one."
"Now, now, Prongs, play nicely," said Sirius with a hearty laugh.
"I will if he does," muttered James.
"You'd hex him if he showed up at breakfast with flowers and Honeydukes chocolates for you!" said Remus, who was not laughing.
A flash of reluctant agreement flashed in James's eyes, but just as soon as it had come, it was gone, and James was sniggering again.
"Knowing him, the chocolate would be covered in oil and the flowers would wilt from his stench."
Peter spoke up, saying, "That's right!"
Ermengarde kept her mouth clamped tightly shut, and for good reason. She knew that Snape was horrible, but she had always had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason he was so was because he was unhappy. She wondered whether or not these boys were the reason for his discontent. Well, James and Sirius, anyway. Remus was far too kindly, it seemed, to want to hex anyone on purpose, and Peter didn't seem to posses the skill or the nerve to.
They entered the Great Hall, found seats, and Ermengarde helped herself to toast and coffee, all the while thinking, Why am I here? Why isn't Harry here, talking with his father? How did I get here?
Remus was eyeing her oddly, but every time she caught his eye, he quickly looked away. Sirius and James were deep in talk about Quidditch, while Peter and Remus were carrying on an odd half-conversation about Cheering Charms.
I suppose I'll get my answers soon enough, thought Ermengarde, and she took the plate of strawberries that Remus had just passed her and piled some onto her plate.