Chapter 34: A Fun Halloween Chapter

Remus woke up the morning of Halloween. It was Sunday, and he did so want to sleep in. No such luck, though—Sirius and James and Peter were whooping and running around before seven in the morning.

"Up, Remus! Up, up! Get up! Get your costume on!"

Remus opened two bleary eyes and saw Sirius standing in front of him. Sirius' hair was shorter and much lighter. His robes weren't rumpled; rather, they were tucked in and ironed (though they were a size too big). His tie was perfectly positioned and he was carrying a book. It was very clear that he was meant to be dressed up as Remus for Halloween.

Remus didn't think that he really looked like that. But no matter, Sirius had tried. "Nothing like being woken up in the morning by a poorly-executed version of yourself," he mumbled.

"You should see James," said Sirius gleefully. "He nailed it."

Remus was tired, but he was also curious. He sat up to look at James: his hair was short and blond, and he'd stuffed a pillow under his robes. That was rather mean, Remus thought, but Peter didn't seem to think so. Peter seemed to be ecstatic that James was impersonating him, no matter how many pillows were under James' robes.

Peter had lengthened and darkened his hair admirably, his robes were wrinkled and his tie was askew, and, upon noticing Remus looking at him, he stood up as straight as possible with his nose raised into the air and his eyes cast downwards in a very haughty expression.

"I don't do that," Sirius muttered, but he definitely did. Remus laughed, even though he was still a bit annoyed that his friends had woken him up so early.

"Here," said Sirius, handing Remus a small bottle, "this is a temporary Hair-Altering Potion. James bought loads. It only lasts for twelve hours, but it works great. Just use a different amount based on the color and length that you want."

"It looks expensive."

"Do you have any idea how filthy rich James' parents are? Mine, too, but they wouldn't spend money on such frivolities. Just use it; it'll make us all look better."

Remus sighed and read the back of the bottle carefully. He didn't want to mess this up. After ten minutes of reading the ingredients and instructions religiously, James got impatient.

"For heaven's sake, Remus. It's not that hard." He squirted out a little potion on his hands and unexpectedly rubbed it in Remus' hair. Remus flinched at the sudden touch. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Right, okay." Remus tried to stay as still as possible. Thirty seconds later, James was satisfied.

"There. Go look in the mirror."

Remus did. His once-brown locks were longer, darker, and slightly curly. He ran his hand through it. It felt like hair, all right.

"That'll never do," said Sirius. "You've got to mess it up a bit."

"Of course." Remus ran both hands through his hair, forwards, backwards, sideways.

"Oi. That's enough. My hair isn't that bad," James cut in.

"It's worse than this," said Remus mischievously, and messed it up even more. Remus had never let his hair get this long and unruly, and it felt good. Remus' parents had always kept it relatively short (Remus liked it to go down to his eyes, but they didn't always comply). Longer hair was so much more difficult to maintain, especially when the full moon rolled around and he didn't have energy to take care of it. And Remus' hair had never mattered before—he never left the house, after all.

Remus closed the door of the lavatory behind him and changed into his robes, intentionally rumpling them and avoiding tucking in his tie. When he emerged, Sirius laughed. "You look just like him," said Sirius, "but you need spectacles."

Remus wordlessly pulled out his reading spectacles. His parents had gotten worried that he'd damage his eyesight reading so much as a child, but Remus never, ever wore them. He didn't look good in spectacles, and a werewolf in spectacles always seemed like a bit of a dumb concept to him.

"No," said James. "Mine are different, and you can't wear those all day. Here, I've got some empty frames on hand. My lenses always break when I'm playing Quidditch."

Remus slipped them on, and looked once more in the mirror. He still looked like Remus, but he was undeniably dressed up as James. "Do I have to act like you, too?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "We'll all act like each other. For instance, I am Remus Lupin, and I never stop reading, and I'm extremely jumpy and self-deprecating."

Remus wasn't sure he liked that description.

"And I am Peter Pettigrew," said James (once he had finished laughing), "and I get bad marks, talk in a really high-pitched voice, and compliment James and Sirius a lot." Peter still did not look offended, only admiring. Remus wondered how thick his skin was. He admired Peter a little.

"And I'm Sirius," said Peter, "and I'm really good at magic, and I'm great on a broom, and I eat a lot of sausage."

"I do not," said Sirius.

"You do," said James.

"I don't," said Sirius. "But no matter, the first two are right."

Remus grinned. It was his turn, evidently, and he knew exactly what he was going to say. "And I am James Potter, Quidditch and Transfiguration extraordinaire," said Remus, and James smiled. "Also, I have a head the size of the sun and my hair looks like a rat's nest. My ego could feed a third-world country." James stopped smiling, and Remus lazily grinned and ran a hand through his hair.

"You looked just like him for a minute there!" said Sirius, laughing.

"'Course I did. I'm James Potter. I can look like whomever I please."

Sirius waggled his finger. "See, there's where you messed up. James would never say 'whomever'."

"That's not my fault," said Remus eagerly. "I didn't make a mistake. I never do."

"I'm not that bad!" cried James, and Remus broke character to smile.

"Debatable."

"You all are idiots." Sirius sighed and opened his book. His eyes flicked across the pages, an utterly defeated and tired look on his face that Remus had never seen before. Remus looked on, open-mouthed. He'd never seen Sirius read a book before. After exactly four seconds, Sirius shut the book. "I don't know how you do it, Remus; this is dead boring."

James laughed and slung his arm around Sirius, the pillow nearly falling out as he did so. "Come on, Marauders, let's go confuse some teachers!"

The Marauders corrected each other on behavior all morning.

"No, Peter doesn't walk like that. And he slouches a little."

"Remus, you git, I do not strut!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to eat the James diet."

"Perfectly fine, mate, but Sirius has to eat the Remus diet. Only vegetables and all that rubbish, Sirius."

"Oi, that's not fair!"

"Peter, stand up straight. And smirk a little more."

"James, Peter would never do that."

"Sirius, open that book more often."

"Just what do you boys think that you are doing?" said McGonagall, who was standing in front of them. James adjusted the pillow under his robes.

"Um, nothing, Professor," he squeaked in a frightening imitation of Peter's voice.

"We're only walking," said Remus in a moment of boldness, running his hand through his hair for luck. "Are you going to give us detention?"

"Yes, is walking illegal now?" said Peter, trying to imitate Sirius but only succeeding in looking constipated. Besides, it didn't really work when he couldn't stop incessantly giggling.

"You lot are on your own," sighed Sirius, opening his book and walking away.

Do I really sound that exasperated all the time? Remus wondered. And I wouldn't throw them under the bus like that. He reconsidered. No, I totally would.

McGonagall's lips pressed together in a gesture of annoyance. "Unfortunately, Professor Dumbledore insists on encouraging Halloween costumes, even though hardly anyone wears them. There's nothing I can do about this." She turned away, and Remus' extra-sensitive ears picked up a soft snort of laughter. She held up a finger, and Remus smiled.

That's another point to me, he thought. "Happy Halloween, Professor!" he called.

James' confidence really was rubbing off on him.

"Heavens above, Remus, you're really getting into this," said Sirius as Remus flicked gravy in his face during dinner. "I've never seen you this self-assured."

"That's because I'm not me. I'm James."

"Right. And I'm Remus." Sirius opened the book. "Peter, let me help you revise."

"Not on your life," said Peter, who was also becoming steadily more confident. "You remember what happened last time."

"Ah, but today I'm Remus. And Remus never gets annoyed. Now, Peter, who invented Expelliarmus?"

Peter's eyes lit up. "Hang on. I'm not Peter. That's Peter." He gestured to James. "So you have to revise with James, not me."

A moment's silence. Remus felt a James-like grin spread across his face. James may have been very clever, but he could not argue with that sort of logic. "REMUS!" shouted James, much louder than necessary. Remus clapped his hands over his ears. "Was this all a ploy to get Sirius and me to revise?"

"Sirius and I," Sirius corrected, trying to imitate Remus.

"Actually, it is 'Sirius and me' in this case," said Remus, even though he was certain that Sirius already knew that. "And no. I'm James, I would never do that." Remus took a sip of water and sloshed it noisily in his mouth before swallowing.

"Why were you swishing your water like that? I don't do that!" cried James.

Peter looked at Remus in awe. "You do, James. Every time you take a sip of something."

Sirius howled with laughter, but Remus interrupted him. "You'd better get to helping Peter, Remus," he said.

"Ugh." Sirius held up the book to James. "Now, Peter, who is the greatest git in all of existence?"

James considered and assumed Peter's unsure voice. "Is it Remus Lupin?"

"That's incorrect, I'm afraid. But it's all right, Peter; you'll get it next time. The answer is actually Snivellus Snape."

James snickered.

"I don't say things like that, Sirius," said Remus. "And since I'm James, I should probably remind you all of the prank that we're planning..." His voice trailed off as he glanced at the door. Five boys walked in, dressed in fur and fangs and claws, nudging each other and baring their teeth.

"Sweet," commented James. "Werewolves."

"No, you have to shiver a little when you say it, 'cos Pete's afraid of everything," said Sirius.

"Ahhh!" commented James. "Werewolves!"

One of the boys did an exaggerated growl, and Remus nearly jumped out of his skin. You're James, he told himself sternly. And James is not afraid of werewolves or anything else. James is confident bordering on arrogant. You're James.

"We should do that next year," said Sirius, sounding a bit jealous of the boys' costumes. Remus was not jealous at all, and he would not be dressing up as a werewolf next year—not even if James offered Remus seventy Galleons.

"All right, Remus?" asked James. "You're looking a little pale."

Remus shrugged in a bad imitation of James. "Nah."

"You look terrified," pointed out Peter.

Remus shrugged again. "Nah." He ruffled his hair. "So about the prank...?"

One of the boys let out a long howl, and Remus dropped his fork. The other four answered the call. Remus' hands were shaking, so he sat on them in the hopes that no one would notice.

"James never looks that uptight," said Sirius. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

He was holding his breath, and he could hear the ocean in his ears. Suddenly, something tapped him on the shoulder. Remus squeaked, and a spark shot out of his fingertips. That was the first accidental magic he had done in a long time.

He turned around with almost superhuman speed (inhuman, he thought glumly, though he didn't actually have werewolf superspeed), but relaxed as soon as he saw Dumbledore's face. "Remus? I have something to discuss with you. If you would come to my office."

Remus saw James' eyes light up, and he knew what James expected him to do. He didn't feel brave enough to do it at all.

"Yes, sir," said Remus, standing up. He didn't quite have the heart to act like James anymore.

"I noticed that you were uncomfortable," said Dumbledore quietly as they walked down the empty corridor. "I don't actually have anything to say to you. It was, for lack of a better word, a lie. If you'd like to go back, you may."

"No, sir... I'd like to talk, if that's all right with you." Remus actually did want to talk, to his surprise. And he almost never wanted to talk.

It looked as if he was still acting a bit like James after all.

They entered his office (the password was now 'Liquorice Wand'), and Dumbledore gestured to the empty seat. "You rearranged your office," Remus commented, pretending as if he hadn't seen it before.

"I have." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "So, Mr. Lupin, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Remus ran his hand through his hair. It, amazingly, made him loads more confident. Maybe he'd have to try it even when he wasn't James. "Oddly enough," said Remus, "I've just discovered that I am very, very afraid of werewolves." He laughed a little, though it didn't feel appropriate.

Dumbledore didn't bat an eye. "Understandable, considering what's happened to you."

Remus wondered how much he knew about the subject. He seemed... almost like... "Still seems ironic."

"Yes, perhaps. But I can tell you that any self-respecting wizard is afraid of werewolves on the full moon. And you may be a werewolf, but you are also a wizard."

"Sir," said Remus, dreading the answer, "how much do you know about the incident?"

"I must confess that I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know. The incident. Six and a half years ago. What happened to me."

Dumbledore looked a little sad, but not quite pitying. "I'm very sorry, Remus... I've done a bit of research of my own. I am notoriously bad at minding my own business."

Remus' heart stopped. "You talked to my parents?"

"No."

"You talked to the Registry?"

"No."

"You... talked to..." The word Greyback died on Remus' lips. There was no way. Dumbledore wouldn't. "No one else knows, sir. How could you have figured it out?"

"It's a long story," said Dumbledore. "But I know that when you were nearly five years old, you were attacked by Fenrir Greyback whilst asleep in your bed because of a comment that your father made."

Remus flinched and tried to calm his beating heart. "How did you... know...?"

"I told you—I've done a bit of research on my own. You are, after all, the first werewolf ever to attend Hogwarts. You must forgive me if I wanted to know a little bit more about your circumstances."

Remus wanted to throw something, and he bit down on his lip to punish himself for his violent impulses. "How, Professor?"

"I am rather good at guessing. Fenrir Greyback has bitten a great number of current werewolves in Britain, and Madam Pomfrey has told me that you are usually jumpy when unexpectedly awoken. I have also spoken with your father."

Remus got the feeling that there was something that Dumbledore was not telling him. Remus' father would never tell Dumbledore about that. Remus' father hadn't even told Remus what had happened until less than a year prior. Remus didn't believe him on that count; not one bit.

"It's perfectly all right, Remus. I assure you once again that I do not think any less of you. There is no reason to do so. Now: I believe that a detention is in order."

Remus fiddled with a spider that was haphazardly hanging off the chair, panicking a little. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

"What other way can I get you away from your question-prone friends? I'll just send you down to the library for your detention..." Dumbledore did air quotes around the word, "and they won't bother you there. No unwelcome noises, in fact, will bother you there." Remus exhaled. An idea was forming in his mind. He ruffled his hair.

"As long as you promise not to really punish me. That would be unfair."

"Of course. I solemnly swear it. Now, what have you done that deserves a detention on this fine Halloween evening? I'd like to get our stories straight, if you don't mind."

"I decorated your office, sir."

Dumbledore smiled. "Have you, now? That's rather advanced magic to do without my noticing."

Now. Remus tapped the bat with his wand and whispered the counter-charm. The whole room exploded in a burst of color, banners, and fake spiders and bats. "Is it, sir?" he asked mildly. "I'll be off to my 'detention', now."

He left the room quickly, before Dumbledore could change his mind. But Dumbledore wouldn't, of course. He was Dumbledore. And he had, after all, solemnly sworn that Remus wouldn't truly get into trouble of any sort.

And besides... Dumbledore had definitely known about the decorations the whole time.

Remus grinned, ruffled his hair, and pushed his spectacles up his nose.

"Dumbledore put you in detention?" asked James, disbelieving.

"Yep."

"Gee, I'm sorry, Remus."

"Don't be. I have to get seven, remember? Marauders' rules. And I don't think he was actually angry with me; I like the library. And he kept the decorations up."

"What work did he give you?"

"Set me to research how to undo Permanent Sticking Charms."

"Is he going to make you clean it up?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"Well, it's useless, then," said James. "You can skive. No one's watching, and I bet you already know how to undo a Permanent Sticking Charm."

"You can't. That's why it's called 'permanent'."

"Nah, there must be a way."

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"Come on, Remus. Just skive. Come with us to fly broomsticks."

"Maybe later."

And indeed, Remus did go later, seeing as Dumbledore never actually assigned him a length for his "detention". He hadn't even sent him to research Permanent Sticking Charms—Remus was actually reading a book about sheep. So far, it was shaping up to be a wonderful Halloween.

"I'm gonna take this pillow off," said James. "It'll be easier to fly."

"But Peter doesn't fly," said Remus slyly, "and you're Peter today."

"What, are you suggesting that you and Peter fly broomsticks, while Sirius reads a book under the tree and I watch and applaud?"

Sirius was currently itching his collar. He had nicked one of Remus' jumpers (the red one, not the green one), for afternoon wear. "I don't know how you wear this, mate, it's right uncomfortable... Wait, what? I'm not going to read a book! I can't read a book! What? No! I want to fly broomsticks!"

Remus snickered. "I don't really want to fly broomsticks, either. Fine, Sirius, hand over the book. We'll do it normally."

"Yes!" James rushed off and grabbed a broomstick, immediately shooting up into the sky. Remus opened the book and smiled. He never felt so alive as to watch his friends have fun on a chilly autumn day, curled up next to Peter with a book. It almost made him forget the impending full moon, which was constantly hanging over his head, threatening to take away every ounce of joy that he possessed...

He had reached chapter seven of the book when Evans came up to him. Peter let out an odd sort of surprised noise. "Are you afraid of me?" Evans sniggered.

"No," said Peter defensively.

"Yes," said Remus apologetically. "I am. You're right terrifying."

Evans laughed. "Well, I was only wondering why you're all dressed up like that git Potter."

"He's not a git. Well, he is. Sometimes. But he asked me if I was dressing up as something ugly and awful-looking for Halloween, and I told him... well."

Evans covered her mouth with her hand and her eyes shone with laughter. She was nearly tearing up. "Woah, that's... 'scuse me, I have to go find Sev. You pull Potter off wonderfully, by the way. Bye, Lupin."

"See you, Evans." Remus looked back down at his book. At least he and Evans could still bond over teasing James Potter.

"I thought you were friends with her," said Peter. "Why aren't you on first-name basis anymore? Did you have an argument?"

"No," said Remus carefully. "But Snape was her first friend, and she feels that she has a loyalty to him. She told me that she can't be my friend if I continue to spend time with you lot."

"And you chose us?" Peter's face spread into a smile.

"Of course. You were one of my first friends. I met you on the train, remember? You're the first person my age I'd talked to since I was five. I have a loyalty to you, you know. And you're funnier and kinder than Evans, anyway."

Peter looked as if he was going to cry, which seemed a bit melodramatic to Remus—but it would be rude to point it out. "Me? You picked me?"

"Well, yeah. Who was it that talked my ear off on the train when I was an oddball with a toad and too many itchy jumpers? Well, I still am. Anyway. That wasn't Evans."

"You're the best!" Peter's cheeks were rosy in the cool air and he looked like he would explode at any minute. "I hope we stay friends forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever..."

"Of course." Remus thought of how Peter would react when he inevitably found out that he was a werewolf, but he didn't dwell on it. After all, Remus wasn't Remus today, who was introspective to the point of destruction, who was self-loathing and annoying and selfish and cowardly. No, he was James today. "What do you say we grab our own broomsticks and fly for a bit? Close to the ground, I mean. I don't think I'm brave enough to fly over seven feet in the air."

As the wind whipped past his face and Peter's laughter filled his ear, Remus forgot all about Greyback, the boys dressed as werewolves, Dumbledore's sad eyes, Slughorn and Madam Pomfrey and werewolves and the old abandoned building covered in his blood and even the fact that the full moon was in a couple of days and he felt like death itself.

He was James today, and what a glorious thing it was.

AN: I dressed up as a cloud for Halloween once. I'm not even joking. It was a pretty good costume, too.