Chapter 4

According to Sirius' plans, the motorcycle was to be accorded its very own special spot in the dormitory---right in between all of their beds to ensure easy access. Unfortunately, he failed to consider that this meant all of them would have to sacrifice their space to accommodate it.

"Look, Sirius, Peter is crammed right up against the wall," Remus protested.

"He's small."

"My bed is about two feet away from his now!"

"You've been rooming together for 6 years already!"

"Our trunks are very nearly touching!"

"Moony, what's the big deal here? I've moved over James' and my beds, too, so it's not like I'm just picking on you! Besides, Peter doesn't mind, do you, Peter?"

Peter mumbled something that sounded like, "not too much."

"See? Some people don't mind making sacrifices for the common good."

"I wasn't aware your motorcycle went under the category of 'common good,'" Remus replied dryly as James entered the dorm. He wore his Head Boy badge on his chest and a befuddled look on his face. Remus restrained a smile, knowing full well where the look came from but Sirius more than made up for his control. He grinned at James and gave him a low wolf whistle. "Been busy with Head Boy activities, eh?" He asked suggestively.

"Oh yeah," James answered wearily. "Bloody first years, though I can't say the rest of the years are much better." He moved towards his bed and ran smack into it. He stared at it for a moment with a confused look on his face. "Why is my bed in front of the door?"

Sirius gave him a puzzled look. "It's not in front of the door. It's next to it, like it's always been. So how was—"

"Yes, next to the door as in a comfortable distance away from it but now it's right in front of it."

"Maybe the room shrunk over the holidays," Sirius suggested.

James considered this. "Yes, I suppose that is entirely possible."

Remus could keep silent no longer. "It's also entirely possible and a lot more probable that someone thought it would be a good idea to move all the beds over ten feet to make more room for his motorcycle."

"Yes, that is also—" He turned his gaze over to the middle of the room and saw the large empty space now between Remus' and Sirius' beds. "You weren't theorizing," he concluded with a disappointed sound in his voice.

"I was theorizing," Sirius protested.

"No, you were lying. Big difference. Can't we put your motorcycle somewhere else, like in a secret passageway?"

Sirius frowned. "Absolutely not. If it's not in the dormitory, I won't have easy access to it, I'll never be able to work on it. Which means that none of us will experience the ultimate thrill of riding on a motorcycle."

It was James' turn to frown. "Ultimate thrill? Padfoot, I'm afraid to disappoint you but if motorcycles were anywhere near an 'ultimate thrill' we would all fly them instead of broomsticks."

"I can't help the prejudices of wizarding society," Sirius explained with a helpless tone as he reached into his trunk and pulled out the red, fluffy pin cushion from his pocket and sat it down in the middle of the space he'd cleared for it. "Shall we detransfigure it together?" Peter made an uncertain sound and Sirius clarified. "I mean, one of us could certainly detransfigure it alone but it's a lot more difficult to turn a pin cushion into a motorcycle than the other way around. Besides, all of us remember different things about the motorcycle," his eyes glazed over slightly.

Remus thought of its pitiful, rusted state and couldn't help but agree. "So this way we can make sure we get back all of the motorcycle."

"Why not just transfigure the motorcycle to picture the one you want?" Peter suggested.

"Because, Wormtail, that would take away all the challenge," Sirius explained impatiently. "If I wanted a perfect motorcycle, I would have just bought one." Peter nodded. "All right. Wands ready?" Everyone pulled out their wands and began to detrasfigure the bike.

Detransifguration was a risky process and Remus was always surprised when it came out properly, especially when his friends transfigured themselves. As the motorcycle began to expand bit-by-bit, as they each remembered new details about the bike, he felt himself relax and remember the rustiness, the dirt, and the pride in Sirius' voice and let the magic do its work.

Sirius' cry jolted him out of his memories. "Stop! Peter, stop it! That's too big!" Remus opened his eyes and saw that the motorcycle had been more or less completely transfigured but Peter either remembered it to be a lot bigger than it was or had lost control completely.

"I can't!" He cried, "I'm not even doing the spell anymore. It just keeps expanding!" James jumped in front of him and, doing some quick spell work, stopped the motorcycle's expansion. Acting just as quickly, Sirius threw a blanket over it to mask its gargantuan size. "I think that's enough for one night." Peter looked at him apologetically.

"I didn't mean—"

"No, it's fine." His voice was curt and at a look from James he softened it a little. "But with class and everything tomorrow, I reckon we'd better just go to bed." Peter still looked a little uneasy but the four of them went to bed nonetheless and soon, save for some whispering between James and Sirius, all was quiet in the tower dormitory.

Years ago, Remus always used to wonder what they would talk about so late at night, what plans they had that were so secret only the two of them could know about them. But now, he found that he very little cared. Sirius and James were a pair with a friendship so tight that they felt no need to explain many of its inner workings to anyone else. James trusted Sirius implicitly and if Remus was a little annoyed he forgave Sirius so willingly after he told Snape about the Shrieking Shack, it was only because of his lack of understanding. After all, James could hardly cut off his wand hand for cursing his other—that would be wholly counterproductive.

For all he knew, maybe James had been angry with Sirius. At least angry enough to go down to the shack and pull Snape back---too late to prevent Snape from finding out the truth but not too late to stop something far worse from happening. Remus rolled over in his bed, feeling the same queasy feeling he got before the full moons. Thoughts of returning from a transformation with human blood in his mouth and on his hands or, even worse, Snape as a werewolf, were enough to make him sick. He hated the thought that part of him, no matter how deeply hidden at times, always wanted nothing more than to devour others. James at least understood that and had risked expulsion to keep it from happening, even if it was Snape.

Now Sirius, on the other hand, would he have done the same? To him it seemed the only good Snape was a dead Snape. If he was more remorseful, was it because he had failed and now lacked everyone's faith?

He glanced at Peter's bed, barely visible in the darkness. Peter was the lucky one. He never got himself stuck in anything too deeply and Remus could only imagine how difficult the incident had been on him, especially the icy silences. Remus sighed and closed his eyes tighter, blocking out his sight. It was useless to speculate on such things so late at night, anyway.