ShakuraBing: Thank you! The Marauders are so much fun to write about!

Gigi94: Thanks! Yes, Riona is a mite…interesting. She has a story behind her, that's for sure. You'll find more about her later! HAHA, Alice and Sirius are an unlikely pair, but…that relationship has its reason too!

Sarah: Wow, thank you! It's fun to write about them, but I make sure to create expansive backgrounds so that they'll be "in depth," as you say. I'm happy you like Alice!

Heather: Woooow, thank you so much! That means a lot to me.

Jenn87: Thanks for reading.

Six: Through Thick and Thin

Kicking at a rock the size of his hand with unrestrained vigor, Sirius watched as it flew over the ground and knocked into the bushy leaves of a lanky tree on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. A loud squawk burst into the late summer afternoon, followed by a menacing growl, which grew louder and angrier as Sirius, Remus and James squinted curiously into the black folds of the wood whose branches curved and swayed like fingers temptingly gesturing them to enter the forest.

"What do you reckon is in there?" James asked, grinning in delight. The snarls of the unknown creature in the forest apparently increased his interest.

"Trolls…centaurs…werewolves, maybe," said Remus casually, eyeing James while he played with some grass blades he had plucked from the ground.

"Trolls and centaurs probably," Sirius agreed, taking the rock James offered him and aiming it in the direction of the creature's growls. "But I don't think even that old coot of a headmaster would place something as dangerous as werewolves in there, do you? You can control centaurs and trolls, but werewolves are bloodthirsty things."

Oh yes, definitely. Remus thought with an unchecked scowl. I'm so thirsty I want to bite your bloody neck, only that it's too skinny for my liking. "It's late. We better go inside," he said shortly, throwing aside the blades of grass and walking back to the castle with heavy steps.

"What's the matter? It's not even curfew yet!" James protested, running after Remus. "Don't tell me you're going to study, Rem – it's Saturday night, for Merlin's sake!"

"There's more important things to do than throw rocks at things you can't even see in a forest," Remus snapped, not stopping to wait for James and making his way to the lit courtyard entrance.

"Ah, let him go," Sirius said, waving a dismissive hand at Remus's disappearing frame. "He's no fun. Come on; let's go see Tonsberry. I bet I can convince him this time to talk to the Headmaster and get me re-sorted."

James let out a growl that was not unlike the snarls of the unknown forest creature. "I tell you it's not going to work! Get over it, Sirius!"

"It is too going to work. If not, we'll resort to Plan C…"

Their bantering voices trailed off into the silence of the soft twilight while Remus marched into the stone corridor of the ground floor, his chest heaving with contained fury. I don't know why I even try. I'll never fit into this world…I'll always be the bloodthirsty outcast. How could I even believe that I could make friends here? Or what's even more stupid, how I could think I could eventually tell them that I'm a werewolf? Mum and Dad were right. I can't trust anyone with my secret.

Remus paused in mid-step, remembering Sirius's look of disgust mixed with anxiety when he spoke of werewolves hidden in the Forbidden Forest. And James! He hadn't even bothered to disagree with Sirius! To think that Remus believed James might be the one he could tell his secret to, the friend he had always wanted to help carry even the tiniest part of the cursed burden he had been trying to stand under for four arduous years…

Fighting a flood of humiliation and anguish that threatened to drown him, Remus swallowed and slid down onto the cold floor, the flames of the lit torches flickering over his agitated face. He wished, for the umpteenth time in his life, that he were someone else. One of the laughing, carefree boys he had always envied from his bedroom window at home, running through the open fields in his small town, their arms spread wide as if they wanted to catch the globe and play football with it. Remus couldn't play with them; at that age, he didn't fully understand the reactions of people to his condition. Being a werewolf was frightening, of course, but he didn't want to hurt anyone – why would anyone be scared of him? His parents understood how the world worked, and they didn't allow Remus to play with any child that they didn't know or hadn't talked to first, and even then they would always stay with him as he played, silent guards holding sway over a little boy's childhood. Remus knew they wanted what was best for him – he had no doubt of that. Gulliver and Leona Lupin had always been affectionate and supportive of Remus in whatever he did, as was his little sister Romalia.

Even so, he never failed to make the same wish on his birthday cake's dancing candles, on a shooting star, or even when he saw a frog (according to his mother's superstition): if only he could be normal. Just like everyone else. And then he remembered what his mother had told him, the night before he left for school…

"Remus," his mother said quietly, placing a hand on her son's shoulder as he was packing his trunk. "I need to speak with you."

Remus placed his final pair of socks into the overstuffed trunk and turned around, startled at the intense gaze his mother's tender gray eyes held him in.

"Remus my love, your new school is going to be a very different experience for you. It's not going have the comforts this home has given you. You must take special care in everything, Remus, especially with your being a werewolf. Do you understand?"

Remus nodded mutely and leaned against the sturdy metal trunk behind him. Leona Lupin sat on the tip of Remus's twin-sized bed, straightening out the wrinkled cotton bedspread with her small hand, her eyes still binding Remus's with strength, as if she wanted to transmit fortitude to her son that she knew he needed.

"You must be brave and strong, Remus. Some children, and even adults, will speak of werewolves in ways that may hurt your feelings. Don't blame them, though – remember that before you were bitten, you were also afraid of werewolves, but only because you were ignorant of their actual condition. Headmaster Dumbledore promised that he'd accommodate you in every way that he can, especially during the phases of the full moon. If it weren't for him, your father and I wouldn't even think of sending you off to Hogwarts."

"But," Remus hesitated, sitting down on his closed trunk across from his mother, "No one at the school knows that I'm a werewolf, and you know I understand I can't tell anyone what I am…" At this he shifted uncomfortably, not daring to dwell on the wish that he might be able to find a friend he could maybe, just maybe, relate his secret to. "But I promise you I won't get into trouble. I know I'm different…I can't afford to attract attention, right?"

His mother made a choking sound, and she clasped a hand to her throat, her eyes filling. She reached out a hand to Remus, who looked up at her in the admiration of a son whose mother still remained beautiful throughout all these years. The moonlight from the window caressed his mother's rose complexion, petted her dark brown, curly hair, and made her tears glisten.

"You are different, my love," Leona murmured, ruffling her son's hair, "But that doesn't mean you don't belong in this world. You'll learn, in time I hope, that the world is made up of unique and dissimilar things that are all significant in the long and confusing chain called life." She smiled as she noticed her son's puzzled look, but went on. "I know it's hard for you to understand this now, but your being a werewolf is not your bane, nor will it forbid you to have a full, happy life. I'm not saying it won't be hard, but I am saying that you – Remus – can make it happy if you choose to. Fate has given you your condition because it knows you're capable of handling it."

His mother was right: Remus still didn't understand what she meant, but at least his memory of her comforting words calmed the battling anger raging inside of him. He sighed and stood up, dusting off his robes. I think I'll write a letter home. I haven't done that in a while.

As Remus walked up the Grand Staircase to the Gryffindor common room, footsteps walking down in the opposite direction caught his attention. They were far away at first, but he was still able to hear them because of his heightened senses (one of the rare perks that came of being a werewolf). He continued walking upstairs until he met the girl who had been stepping down – the girl in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the one who had asked for a spare quill.

The girl stopped in mid-step, apparently surprised to see him. "Hello."

"Hi," said Remus in return, feeling awkward. He had never been comfortable around girls; the only girl being of his acquaintance was his little sister, but she didn't really count. All she did was drool and wail when she was a baby, and nag and follow him as she grew older – this didn't give Remus an introduction in how to treat other girls, since he didn't have much experience with them except in pushing his sister away or locking her in a closet when she got really annoying. But Remus had a feeling he couldn't do that with the rest of girlkind.

"Sorry –" the girl began.

But Remus, thinking that she apologized for almost bumping into him on the dim stairwell, shrugged. "No problem."

" – for not giving you your quill back sooner," the girl finished, digging his blue-feathered quill out of her robes. "I know two weeks have passed since you leant it to me, but I always forgot to give it back."

He took the quill from her outstretched hand and pocketed it. Actually, he hadn't remembered about the quill until this evening. The girl gave him a demanding look, as though she was expecting him to berate her for borrowing it for so long.

"It's all right," said Remus. "I don't mind."

With arched, confused eyebrows, the girl examined him. "Oh," was all she said, before she sifted past him, the longest braid Remus had ever seen trailing behind her as she stepped down the remaining stairs.

"That Tonsberry is an incompetent oaf!" Sirius roared, plopping down on an overstuffed crimson armchair with a furious twist of his face. "'Black, we do not re-sort out students here. What's done is done. Now go and do the homework I'm sure you have yet to do,'" he muttered in a bad imitation of Tonsberry's stuffy voice. He shot James a dark look. "And you could've at least stayed with me to talk to him – you had to run off as soon as arrived in his office!"

"I had some stuff to take care of." James fought a smile as he sat down across from his friend – but this didn't escape Sirius's sharp eyes.

"And don't smile like that. You needn't say 'I told you so,' – your face says it all."

"I told you so," James sang, folding his arms behind his head in a stance of a triumphant victor. "You might as well take it like a man, mate. You're a Gryffindor, through and through."

Sirius's mind involuntary snapped to the memory of his mother saying almost the exact same thing about his being a Black, "through and through, whether you like it or not!" It was funny; just when he had the chance to go against his mother's belief that he wasn't a proud Black or his father's demand to uphold the family honor, all Sirius wanted was to go into the very place where he could meet both of his parents' approval. It was in Slytherin that he would feel like he was in his own ambiance: a prince of the purebloods, accepted, admired, and most of all – known. Of all things, Sirius hated to be ignored or trampled upon as if he were just anyone. To the Gryffindors, he was no one, just the son of a family who was rumored to be playing with the dark arts; but to the Slytherins, Sirius was a model of the pureblood ancestry, talent, and honor.

Not that they were treating him as such anymore. Even his family, with the exception of Andromeda, had turned their backs on him. Who would've thought a Black could be sorted into Gryffindor? The very idea was preposterous! As many of the Slytherins had hissed to him as they passed Sirius in the school hallways, Sirius probably wanted to be in Gryffindor. He most likely bribed the professors to tamper with the Sorting Hat. He was a blood-traitor, a disgrace on the name of Black. To be in league with Gryffindors clearly showed Sirius's true colors – that he was against everything Slytherin stood for.

Andromeda was not quite as condemning.

"Okay, the joke's over, Sirius," she had told him the day after the Sorting, as soon as she caught sight of him in the third-floor corridor at a recess of classes.

Sirius stared at her. "You think this is all a joke? Tell me who did it, just tell me, and I'll make sure the bloke won't move again!" He fingered the wand in his pocket with a vengeful glare.

Andromeda sighed and pushed back the bangs over her forehead, her eyes exasperated. "No, you idiot. I mean you stop the joke! It's not funny anymore, Sirius. Your parents, not to mention my parents, Aunt Zelma, Great-Uncle Bruton, and Great-Grandmother Litana are off their bottoms with anger. I've had non-stop letters flying in, even when I was asleep, from our whole dear family. They seem to think your being a bloody Gryffindor is all my fault." She scowled at him. "And I depend on you to make them see the truth."

:"Do you think that I would pull a joke this revolting that deals with my life?" Sirius demanded, meeting his cousin's glare with his own. "I was dying to get into Slytherin! I never wanted to be in Gryffindor, Andra, ever. Not even as a joke."

The use of his childhood nickname for her apparently calmed Andromeda down, and she rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay, I believe you. But even so, I'm sending all of the letters to your dormitory. Anyway…all I can say, then, is that my prayers are with you." She shook her head, a crooked smile spreading over her face. "It figures that you had to do something to upset not only your parents but all of the snobby purebloods on your first day in school."

"Believe me," Sirius said sourly, mentally cringing at the unopened letters from his parents that were still on his bed, "If I could change it, I would. I know there's been a mistake somewhere. I'm a Slytherin!"

At this Andromeda's mirth at her cousin's predicament mellowed. She played with her bangs, as she usually did when she was distracted. Looking around the busy hallway Andromeda pulled her cousin aside into a corner behind a statute of Boris the Bewildered.

"Look," she said after a moment, fiddling with her Slytherin prefect badge, "Your being the only boy I can stand in our family, I'll let you in on something. But this is personal, and you better not mouth it to anyone. If you do, well…" Her dark eyes glittered with pride, "They don't call me best in fifth-year potions for anything. I can turn you into a puddle of slime before you even open your mouth and tell me to stop, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Sirius agreed, a thrill of anticipation running through him despite his present worries. Whenever Andromeda had a secret to tell him, it was always delightfully interesting, fun, or wicked.

"All right," said Andromeda, and she took a deep breath. "Well, you know how my parents are. You think your parents are set on getting you into Slytherin, but my parents are ten times worse. They think Slytherin is the only place to be, and my father told me he'd disinherit me if I would ever drop out from Slytherin for any reason. Just think if I wasn't even sorted into Slytherin, and you get the picture.

"The day of my Sorting, I was a nervous wreck. Don't ask me how I knew, but I felt like I wasn't going to be sorted into Slytherin. Maybe it was because I didn't…anyway, when the Sorting Hat was placed on my head, all I could think was that I only wanted to be in Slytherin. That's all I desired, hoped for, and wished. And you know how the Sorting Hat makes those little comments inside your head, as if it could understand you?"

Sirius nodded, remembering his own Sorting. The old, battered Hat wouldn't stop prattling inside his mind.

"Well," Andromeda continued, looking down on her Slytherin badge, "It said that I could very well fit into Ravenclaw, or even Gryffindor." She said this with a sad glance at Sirius. "But I panicked and begged it not to sort me anywhere but Slytherin. And so it did."

"So…" Sirius licked his lips, trying to comprehend his cousin's momentary lack of the spirit he had always admired in her, "You just asked, and the stupid hat did as it was told?"

"I'm in Slytherin, aren't I?" Andromeda shrugged. "And I'm still part of the Black family. You don't know what it's like, to have parents who corner you into a place where you have no where to turn to, no one to help you…" She caught Sirius looking away, and she paused. "No, you probably do know. "

But then an idea sparked into Sirius's head. "Wait, maybe I can get the Sorting Hat, command it to put me in Slytherin, and pretend like none of this ever happened!"

"You really are thick, aren't you?" Andromeda said in disapproval. "Look, if you were sorted into Gryffindor without even thinking of Slytherin, that means you belong in Gryffindor, Sirius. You can't go against what you are. Don't commit my mistake."

But Sirius had shrugged off his cousin's bit of advice. He had been in earnest planning the past three weeks, jumping from one failed strategy to the next. He had even attempted to steal the Sorting Hat, but the bloody gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's entrance (where a sixth year had told him the Sorting Hat was kept) was too stubborn not to let Sirius through, much to his chagrin (and to the health of Sirius's foot, since he had kicked the stone gargoyle more times than he can count). But with each passing day, he was getting more and more desperate. His hope of ever being accepted at Hogwarts was fading away as quickly as the setting sun's rays were melting into darkness outside.

"Earth to Sirius!" James called, snapping his fingers in front of his friend's face. "Wake up! Wake up! If you don't, I'll knick the Chocolate Frogs you hid under your bed…"

"No, you won't," Sirius frowned, his train of thought broken.

"Glad to have you back," James said, examining Sirius's harried face. "Look, I'm sorry if I haven't been that supportive of you getting into Slytherin. I, uh, I know that you'll get into the right House soon, mate."

That is, the actual right House! James thought. He still hadn't given up on his plan to shut Sirius's whining mouth. No, indeed: by this time, he had enough of Sirius's growls to launch into his reserved emergency strategy: Plan Pink Panties (he had always wanted to call a plan that since it made him snigger every time he thought it).

And as Dad always says, don't do something tomorrow that you could've done yesterday…or something like that. James drummed his fingers on his armrest, squinting at Sirius, who was glaring into the roaring fire crackling away before them.

"Oy, Sirius."

"Yeah?" Sirius asked, sighing and turning to face James. For one being so young, James thought, he sure did mope around a lot.

"I've heard some of the Gryffindors talking about you."

"When don't they?"

"No, no…I mean, a group of third years – was it third years or sixth years? – anyway, a group of Gryffindors were saying yesterday how you didn't seem like any of your family members at all. You know, cold…kind of mean…looking like they have a dungbomb stuck up their arse…"

Sirius scowled. "Not all of them look like that. Andromeda doesn't, anyway."

James waved a dismissive hand, sticking his feet out and placing them on the oak center table in between them. "Yeah, of course not. Andromeda seems nice. But I'm talking about how the Gryffindors, who thought that you were the scum of the earth just a measly few weeks ago, are now singing your praises, mate." He stuck out a finger and pointed at Sirius's chest for emphasis, winking. "Your praises."

In the short time he had known him, James already understood the "honor," also known as enormous conceit, of Sirius. Of course, he never swayed this over his friends; yet Sirius never bothered to correct anyone's exaggerated praise of him or failed to add a little bit of something he had done quite bravely/wisely/or mischievously that might be hailed in front of his friends. But something that was far more important and deadly useful, James pondered, were the small hints Sirius had involuntarily dropped about how he kind of felt out of place at home, without dodging into any specifics. Nevertheless James understood enough. Remembering this, James had to fight down a sneaky grin as he examined the proud glow spreading over Sirius's face.

"Well," Sirius began, attempting to look humble but failing miserably, "I've never really felt part of my family, you know. My mother even tells me I'm not a true Black." At these words however, something seemed to trigger inside of him, for his smile dematerialized into a melancholy grimace once more.

James quickly launched into a counter attack. "Then it must show mate, because the Gryffindors were saying how they admire your talent in class, how you're fun to be around, and even –" He lowered his voice into a exultant, conspiratorial whisper, "Your aristocratic complexion."

Arching his dark eyebrows, Sirius settled back into his armchair, rubbing his chin in his usual gesture of consideration (although James suspected this was also a reason to touch his fair skin, the trademark of an ancient pureblood). "I guess I am kind of smart in class…I don't study though. Hate those bloody books."

Time to switch to tempting mode. James nodded wisely. "Yeah, books are annoying things. But you know, Sirius…when I was listening to these Gryffindors prattling on about how great you seem to be, they kind of held back."

Sirius frowned, his gaze clouding. "How so?"

Sighing, James shrugged and leaned forward with an air of understanding. "They just seem to think you don't want to belong here. And if you don't want to belong, why should they extend a friendly hand to you, eh?"

"If they want me to belong so much, they should be the ones extending the friendly hands," Sirius shot back.

Whoa, hold on there, Potter. Don't rush into this. "Right, right," James said in a soothing voice. "Well, you know how the Gryffindors can be so bloody proud. I mean, you know and I know that they don't have the right to be so arrogant. They're scared of saying this stuff to you, the object of their wonder! But someone's gotta be the better man, don't you think?"

"So you're saying that I should go up to them and put them in their place…nicely?"

"I'm saying that I bet if you show that you want to belong in Gryffindor, these snooty Gryffindors will be following you and becoming your number one fans!" James cried, throwing his hands up eagerly. "Don't you want to be looked up to like you were before?"

A hint of excitement seemed to tiptoe into Sirius's black eyes, but it was circumvented by doubt. "Are you sure they were saying this? It doesn't seem that Gryffindors would change from being high and mighty busybodies to welcoming fans, you know?"

James placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Would I lie to you?" Without good, thoughtful, and heroic intentions, that is.

Sirius burst into a grin and lifted his right shoulder sheepishly. "No, I guess not. So they really said that stuff about me?"

"I'm not only sure of it," James began, a march of victory playing loudly in his chest, "But I can prove it. And Remus can be our witness."

At this moment, as though called out of the blue by James's astute persuasion, Remus walked in through the portrait hole, looking quite tired and cold. He spotted James and Sirius by the fire, smiled, and walked over to warm himself.

"Did Tonsberry kick you out from his office, then?" Remus asked in a joking tone, taking off his cloak and letting it fall to the crimson carpet.

Hm, guess he isn't angry with us anymore. Well, so much the better. He had me worried there for a minute…studying on a Saturday!

James stood up and clapped a hand over Remus's shoulder. "Yeah, sure. Anyway, I was just telling Sirius of the conversation I heard about him a few days ago, remember?"

Remus looked at him blankly. "Erm, not –"

"Right! It was not a few days ago!" James went on, casting a furtive glance at Sirius, "You're absolutely correct, Rem. The conversation I heard happened a week ago…when, ah, Sirius found the way into the girls' dormitory without taking the stairs!"

Sirius smiled to himself. "Yes, I admit that was a bit clever of me. See, the stairs disappear when boys try to go there. I thought the walls would be more likely –"

"Excellent plan, really Sirius, excellent," said James, nodding. "So Remus, being the smart bloke that he is, knew that you wouldn't believe us if we told you the Gryffindors are ready to welcome you with open arms. And what did you do, Rem, in order for our best mate to believe us that conversation really happened?" At this he subtly raised his eyebrows at Remus, who was looking like someone who had been asked to discover a way to operate one of those weird Muggle contraptions called a toaster.

"I, uh," Remus risked a glance at Sirius, who was looking at him expectantly. "I recorded the conversation?"

"Brilliant!" James exclaimed, patting him on the back. He turned to Sirius. "Isn't that brilliant? How did you record the conversation, Rem?"

Really getting into his role now since he saw no clue of comprehending it, Remus launched on. "I recorded it on an exemblem, of course."

James gave him a sly wink and nodded. "Yes, an exemblem. Kind of an old way to do things, but works just the same, doesn't it?"

"Well, where is it?" Sirius asked impatiently.

"Right here!" James dug the small oval disk out of his robes' pockets with a triumphant look and sat down. "Ah, Remus gave it to me when he was done. Want to open it, Remus?"

Remus eyed James, wearing a look that clearly spoke for itself: You're a nutter. "Sure," he said out loud, and took out his wand to tap the disk three times.

As James had said, an exemblem was a preliminary device to record anything, and the sounds that were emitting from the metal, egg-shaped disk in James's hand were fuzzy and appeared to be coming from far away. But a slight clicking noise was also added to the background, causing James to tap his wand once more to increase the volume. All three boys cocked their ears to hear everything, two of them not knowing what they would be listening to. Only James wore a smile.

"Don't you think that Sirius Black fellow is cool?" asked a young girl's voice over the clacking noise.

"Oh yes! Isn't he so handsome? His pale skin is so aristocratic!" squeaked another girl.

"And isn't he so talented in class?" a rather deep male voice observed.

"He's so fun to be around! I wish he would really want to belong in Gryffindor!" exclaimed an unusually high-pitched voice.

"But he doesn't seem to like being here…" mourned the first girl, giving a loud sniff interrupted by a louder CLACK of the exemblem.

"No matter! We will try to welcome him as the wonderful boy we all know he is but secretly don't want him to find out!" cried the boy.

James gave a quick tap at the disk again, and it promptly became quiet. Remus gave James an unbelieving, half-disgusted look, while Sirius positively glowed, eating all this up.

"Wow! The Gryffindors really seem to like me!" Sirius beamed, looking happy for the first time in weeks. "Isn't this great, Remus? And I didn't even have to remind them how great I am in class!"

Remus appeared to be trying to think of what to say to this. "Um…yeah."

"But," said James in a dramatic tone as he pocketed the exemblem, "It's too bad that you want to go through with all this rubbish about joining Slytherin, Sirius. It doesn't matter what we Gryffindors think of you since you're leaving us soon."

"Uh…" Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah…well…the Slytherins aren't exactly going to be as welcoming as I thought they would be. You've seen how they treat me in the corridors."

"They hate you," James added, nodding in agreement. "No offense or anything," he hastened at Sirius's scowl, "But I wouldn't call throwing bowtruckles at you when you pass the Greenhouses a sign of welcome."

"You're right," Sirius sighed, looking at his feet, which cast long, jagged shadows over the floor.

"It's not like you won't be welcome here, Sirius," Remus began, rubbing the back of his neck. "You have us. We're your friends."

"Yeah, we can tolerate you better than the Slytherins can," James quipped, making Sirius smile. "We promise not to throw bowtruckles at you."

"Or push you into the lake when you're not looking," Remus continued, grinning, "Without good cause, of course."

"And you've seen what the rest of the Gryffindors think of you!" James patted his pocket, ignoring Remus's loud coughing. "And…well, there's a bit of an added proof that I've had hiding for you." He glanced at his watch.

Sirius brightened. "What is it?"

"Yeah, what is it?" Remus asked suspiciously.

James got up again and looked out of the portrait hole. "I told them to come around this time."

"Who?"

"Wait, I see them. They're dragging their feet, chattering on…how like girls to do that when a bloke is expecting them at a certain time!"

"Girls?" Sirius and Remus repeated, looking bemused.

Steps echoed into the stone corridor outside, and James left the portrait hole and strode to where Remus and Sirius were sitting. After a minute, Alice Kennicott and Lily Evans sauntered in, their cheeks red from the chilly air outside.

"Sorry we're late," Alice said breathlessly.

Lily held up a bag of breadcrumbs, smiling. "We were feeding the little creatures near the lake. I think they're called Karniffles. They eat the weeds, don't they? Adorable things!"

"They ate out of our hand!" Alice gushed.

Turning to Alice, Lily tapped her in a reminder. "Wasn't their squeaking so cute? It was like they were talking to us. I swear they have their own language."

"I don't think so. They're just little magical beasts, after all," said Alice, shrugging. "But they're so cute!"

Throughout these exclamations, James, Remus and Sirius looked at the girls with vacant, confused expressions. To them, Lily and Alice were speaking another language, full of gushing, bubbling, and squeaking.

James was the first to break the rambling, not being able to take it anymore. "Right, cute. Anyway, why'd you come here?"

Alice gave him a puzzled look. "You told us to come here." She glanced at Sirius, her cheeks flushing brighter.

"You said you had something important for us to see," Lily added, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face.

"Isn't it true," James demanded, with Remus and Sirius looking on in interest, "That all the Gryffindor girls fancy Sirius?"

Alice stood frozen to her spot, with Lily shooting her sympathetic glances in between casting James loathing stares.

"What makes you think we'd know that?" Lily challenged.

"Because Alice here knows of girls who like Sirius," was James's easy answer. "Don't you Alice?"

"Um," Alice whispered, paling, "I, uh, know of other girls…yeah, other girls…who…erm…might…"

Jumping up, James wrapped an arm around Alice's stiff shoulders. She looks like she might fall down dead…better take this a notch slower. "Right, you know of other girls." He turned to Sirius, who was completely nonplussed at the situation. "You see, mates, Alice fancies another Gryffindor bloke who also tells her he knows that there are Gryffindor girls who like Sirius. Don't you, Alice?"

The cold fright that had entrapped Alice seemed to melt, inch by inch, and she slowly nodded. Lily also calmed down, and instead resorted to curiosity as she looked at James, as did Remus.

"Yeah," Alice responded, patting her hair ribbon, "There are other girls who like Sirius, of course…" She quickly added, "Not that I do. Oh no, I don't like Sirius. Nope, not in that way…nope, nope, nope…"

"We get that," James reassured her. He whirled around to Sirius. "Do you have any excuses now, mate?"

Sirius broke into a satisfied grin and folded his arms behind his head. "Nope, nope, nope."