The next morning, Sirius' owl arrived with about four letters. "All from your mum?" James asked quietly, and Sirius nodded.

"I haven't been answering any of her letters. None of them say anything important, anyway—just insults and stuff. Could you do what we agreed on last night?"

James grinned and took all of the letters in his hands. "Absolutely."

"What did you agree on last night?" asked Peter, his mouth full of bacon.

"I woke up in the middle of the night stressing about Christmas," said Sirius, "and James heard me mumbling to myself."

"He was crying," said James, and Sirius smacked the back of James' head.

"Was not."

"Were too."

"I was not crying!"

"Ah, don't worry about it, mate. Remus was crying last night, too. My being a light sleeper is a curse at times."

"I was not!" Remus couldn't even remember having a nightmare the previous night. They had been getting better—he only had them about three or four days a week now, and they were less severe.

"You were. Mumbling, too. Said something about the moon."

Remus froze. "What...?"

"The moon. What were you dreaming about?"

Remus did not know what to say. There was a slight silence before he managed to get any words out. "Well, the moon, obviously," he said. He pretended to think. "Honestly, James, I can't remember. Don't take it to heart—Mum told me once that I was mumbling about marmosets in my sleep."

"Marmalade?"

"No, marmosets. Like monkeys."

"Oh," said James. Obviously, he had no idea what marmosets were. That was okay: Remus didn't know anything about marmosets, either, except that they were monkeys. "Anyway, Sirius was crying last night, and..."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Mumbling. I do not cry."

"Your face was wet."

"Sweat. I was exercising in my sleep."

"I see. Anyway, sweat was pouring out of Sirius' eyes and his face was all splotchy—"

"—because of the exercise—"

"—yeah, and then we talked. Then he asked me to read his mum's letters for him over breakfast. In case they had anything important, you know. Sirius is expected to respond when she asks a question, but she doesn't always ask questions."

"That's a good idea," said Peter, and Remus agreed. He wondered for a second why Sirius hadn't asked Remus—after all, the two of them had started a weird club of sorts. But then he remembered how ridiculously similar James and Sirius were. They were, more or less, the same person, and it was clear to Remus that James was Sirius' favorite and vice-versa; Remus and Peter were a little bit lower on the pecking order. Besides, Remus hadn't even been around recently—he'd been "visiting his mum". Hoe could he possibly expect to be just as good a friend to Sirius as James was? James was with Sirius all the time.

James opened each letter and scanned them. "Wow, Sirius, are you really the exact equivalent of a moldy sandwich? That's what your mum says. Right here. I never got that impression."

Remus thought that Sirius might dislike the fact that James was reading his letters aloud at the breakfast table, but Sirius laughed. "Can't you see the resemblance?"

"Only if you squint," said Remus, "and turn your head at a thirty-nine degrees angle."

"Thirty-eight," corrected Peter, and Sirius laughed.

"Only you lot could make my mum's letters seem humorous," he said, shaking his head. "She's ridiculous. Shouts all the time. Like a Banshee."

"Speaking of which..." continued James, "twelve eggs short of a dozen is pretty good, too."

"That sounds like a compliment to me," Remus joked. "There are only twelve eggs in a dozen. So she's saying you're not an egg—that's something."

"Your mother's love never ceases to astound me," said James seriously. "Sirius Black, you are not an egg. That's motherly adoration right there."

They continued making fun of the letters all throughout breakfast, and Sirius cracked a few jokes of his own (even though he was still bitter about going home for Christmas, and Sirius was sometimes scary when he was bitter). James read one aloud in a very silly voice, changing some of the words, and Sirius nearly fell out of his chair with mirth. Remus was very thankful for James Potter—James always seemed to know what to do. Laughter, Remus had decided, truly was the best medicine—much better than the disgusting potions that Madam Pomfrey sometimes gave him.

Quidditch tryouts were the following Saturday, and James was even more tetchy than Remus was on the day of the full moon. "Sirius, stop chewing so loudly," he snapped over breakfast. "Remus, stop breathing like that. It's not that funny, Peter, stop laughing. If Snivellus looks at me like that one more time, I swear I'm going to kill him. Why is Evans laughing with him? That Gryffindor traitor. Your cousin is annoying me, Sirius. She's twirling her hair again. She's not even that pretty."

"Amen to that," said Sirius.

"Shut up. I'm supposed to be the one complaining."

"Are you nervous?" asked Sirius slyly.

"No. I know I'm going to get the position. I'm not nervous—James Potter is never nervous. I'm the best Chaser there ever was. But I might kill someone with this fork before tryouts even start. I'm annoyed at everyone."

"That sounds like a pretty accurate description of nerves to me," said Remus in a sad attempt at a joke.

"Well, that can't be right, Lupin. You're nervous all the time, but you never snap at anyone."

Remus thought about that. He very much would have snapped at someone by now if it hadn't been imperative to keep his more animalistic side at bay. "Everyone gets nervous in different ways," he said. "My mum rolls her eyes a lot when she's nervous. My dad stutters. I've met people who are downright mean when they're nervous."

"But I'm not nervous," said James impatiently. "I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, that's all. And someone was keeping me up all last night with his whimpering."

Remus felt as if he had been slapped. The nightmares had been a little worse last night, seeing as the night had been clear and moonlight, however faint, had been spilling onto his bed... But he had tried to be quiet, he really had. He'd like to see James be attacked by a werewolf multiple times in one night and stay completely silent the whole time.

Actually, he very much would not like to see that.

"I'm really sorry," he said, probably too quietly for James to hear him.

"It's okay, Remus, he didn't mean that," said Peter.

"I very well did mean it, Pettigrew. So would you just all shut up." Everyone went dead silent for the next five minutes while James fumed silently, including Sirius (which was certainly a first). Suddenly, James stood up. "I need to do something. Come on, Sirius. I don't have the patience for Lupin and Pettigrew. Too whiny. I said come on, Sirius." Sirius followed, a smirk on his face. Remus did not like where this was going.

"You're not going to hex someone, are you?" he asked in a small voice.

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," said James testily. "So lay off. I know what I'm doing." He stalked off, leaving Remus and Peter alone at the table.

Silence. Remus' stomach suddenly started to feel a little bit odd.

"I wish they'd let me come," said Peter, breaking the silence. That hadn't been what Remus was thinking at all.

"Why do they insist on hexing people for fun?" said Remus. "I wouldn't like to be hexed."

"Well, if it were Sirius and James doing the hexing, I reckon I wouldn't mind. They're good at it, and it gets you popularity points. Plus, it's funny, watching the person that they hex panic like that." Remus wondered if Peter really thought of it like that or if he was just trying to convince himself.

"I suppose," said Remus.

After all the work he had done to get his friends, he was not going to lose them. Even if he had to watch a few people get hexed.

He wasn't even watching this time, and he was good at shoving down bad thoughts. He did it all the time whenever someone mentioned werewolves. Remus didn't really care at all—not when he forced himself to think about sheep and poetry instead of things that actually upset him.

So what was the problem?

The problem was that both Sirius and James got detention for a week after giving a first-year Slytherin a forked tongue. Remus and Peter were, against their better judgement, currently listening through the door outside McGonagall's office. She was lecturing Sirius and James quite impressively, and Remus was amused in spite of himself.

"We do not hex random students in the corridors, Potter."

"But it was an advanced transfiguration, Professor. You've got to give me a little more credit than that."

"Be that as it may, it was entirely unacceptable. The first-year that you have hexed is currently in the Hospital Wing and is very distraught."

"It was only a Slytherin, Professor," Sirius cut in. Remus winced at his lack of tact. There were not many good things to say in this particular situation, and that was very certainly not one of them.

"From someone who is berated constantly for the House in which you have placed, Black, you show an outstanding lack of sympathy. That is very hypocritical of you."

"That's different," spluttered Sirius. "They're Slytherins. They're blood purists. They're awful. Trust me, I know."

"Just because you don't agree with your family does not mean that all Slytherins are the same."

"They are! They are, Professor. I have not met a single good Slytherin, in all my eleven years..."

"It's only a House, Black. Slytherins are, by definition, cunning, persistent, and ambitious. That doesn't mean that they can't also be good, kind, and bright. Professor Slughorn was a Slytherin, as was Professor Questus—and they are both decent people."

Remus was, oddly enough, surprised that Questus had been a Slytherin. He supposed that he could see Slytherin in Questus if he looked closely enough. He had been an Auror, so he was certainly ambitious. He always pushed Remus to be a better version of himself. That was ambition, wasn't it? Was he cunning? Remus didn't know, but he'd also only known Professor Questus for a couple of months.

Remus realized that he hadn't really thought about Questus being in a Hogwarts House to begin with. It was hard to imagine him as a student. Remus would have guessed Ravenclaw, after all the studying he had done on Remus' condition. After all, Remus' father had been the same way when Remus had first been bitten, and he'd been a Ravenclaw. Questus was not a blood purist, though (Remus didn't think so, at least, since Questus didn't seem to mind the fact that Remus was half-Muggle-born and a werewolf), and he was certainly not as horrible as Sirius' mother seemed to be. A Slytherin, though?

Fiddlesticks. Remus did not have the right to be prejudiced.

Peter, who seemed a bit stricken, tugged at Remus' sleeve. "Can we go?" he whispered. Remus nodded. He felt sort of guilty for invading James' and Sirius' privacy—and even Questus', even though McGonagall had freely disclosed that information; Professor Questus' House was clearly not a secret.

Come to think of it, Questus had more green items than not, even though his robes were dark brown. His gloves for handling dangerous items were green. He had a small green lamp on his desk. Half of his books had green covers. Remus wondered why he had not seen it before.

He suddenly realized that every single one of the Hogwarts professors had been in a House at some point. What House had Sidus been in? What about Hooch? What about Madam Pomfrey? It was so odd to try to imagine his teachers as teenagers.

As he and Peter walked back to the dormitory, Remus was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he did not even notice that Peter was upset about something until they arrived. Peter did not do the Knock when he entered, and neither did Remus.

"I was almost put into Slytherin," Peter mumbled as soon as they'd closed the door behind them.

"You were?" Remus wasn't sure what to think about that. He couldn't imagine Peter as a Slytherin.

Oh, Remus was such a hypocrite. He was a werewolf. Werewolves did not deserve to be prejudiced.

"Yeah," continued Peter. "The Hat was considering Slytherin pretty strongly. I didn't care at the time, but I'm really glad it didn't put me there. I like being friends with James and Sirius." Remus was a little hurt that Peter did not mention Remus as well, but didn't think much of it. "And my mum was in Slytherin. Do you think that I have any Slytherin traits, Remus?"

Remus thought very hard. Peter did not seem to have any Gryffindor traits, much less Slytherin. He was brave, Remus supposed, in little ways—like daring to hang out with the most popular and clever first-years when he himself was not the popular type, or wanting to play a part in the pranks even more than Remus, and wanting to be included—no matter how dangerous it was. But Slytherin? He was ambitious enough to want to do well in school, Remus supposed. He was creating a better image for himself by spending time with Sirius and James. He was not manipulative in any way. He was mostly just a scared, insecure boy—much like Remus.

"No," said Remus honestly. "I think you could have done well there, but I think you could have done well in any House. You're better at magic than you think, and you actually do schoolwork—unlike James and Sirius—so Ravenclaw might fit. You're willing to go along with pranks, no matter the danger, so Gryffindor fits. You're decently hard-working and loyal to the Marauders, so Hufflepuff fits. And you want to be the best that you can be, so Slytherin could fit. Slytherin isn't the bad House, according to McGonagall. And McGonagall is always right."

"The Hat thought about it forever!" wailed Peter. "It said I didn't fit anywhere!"

"I think," said Remus slowly, "the problem was more that you have so many talents that you would have fit into any of the Houses."

Peter looked slightly mollified. "You think?"

"Of course."

It was silent for a bit. "Did the Hat consider putting you in Slytherin?" Peter asked.

"No," said Remus, who did not see it fit to lie. "It eliminated Slytherin right off the bat."

"It was debating Ravenclaw and Gryffindor for you, wasn't it?"

"No, actually." Remus chuckled a little. "It kind of wanted to put me in Hufflepuff." A werewolf in Hufflepuff. The thought still made Remus giggle.

"Hufflepuff?" Peter looked shocked. "I can't see you as a Hufflepuff. You're too... you're not social enough. And you're always reading. And you joke a lot."

'What, do Hufflepuffs not joke?"

"Not like you do. You tease. You're kinda sarcastic. And you memorize morbid poetry for fun."

And I'm a creature of the Dark who is intent on murdering humans once a month. "Maybe the Hat is really only accurate in its final decision," Remus said. "Perhaps its second-best choice is always wildly inaccurate."

Peter laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised. Everything is completely wacky here. Floating candles!"

They sat for a while in amicable silence. "You won't tell James and Sirius, right?" said Peter. "They wouldn't like me anymore."

"As long as you don't tell them that I was going to be a Hufflepuff," Remus responded.

"I won't." Peter looked excited at the prospect of a shared secret. "Marauder's honor."

"I can't believe McGonagall is still letting you try out for Chaser," said Sirius that afternoon.

James laughed. His spirits had brightened considerably. "Remus, Peter, you missed it. She said, and I quote: 'Potter, I think that you lack empathy and intelligence when it comes to following rules. I think that you deserve much more than a week of detention, and you will get what you deserve if this ever happens again. You've been harassing students for the past couple of days—don't think I didn't notice. However... you are rather good on a broom. They don't usually take first-years, but I always like to see the Gryffindor Quidditch team do well. Good luck.'"

Remus did not ask how he managed to memorize all that so quickly. "What did she mean, 'harassing students for the past couple of days'?"

"While you were out with your mum, James and Peter and I hexed a couple of people," said Sirius, unashamed. "It was fine. We didn't get caught."

"Hm," said Remus. He wasn't really sure what else to say. What's done is done, he reasoned.

"Anyway," said James. "I don't see how anyone else could possibly beat me to the position. Dad says I'm better than some professionals. I reckon I've seen more professional games than any other student in the school. And I know enough maneuvers and things to beat out even Hooch, I think. It's a hobby of mine—no, it's my life. There's no way I'll lose."

"And the ego returns," said Sirius solemnly.

"Shut up. I know Quidditch like Remus knows books."

"I doubt that," said Remus.

"Ask me anything!" said James. "Anything at all!"

"What's your middle name?" asked Sirius quickly.

"I meant about Quidditch!" James rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I am never telling you my middle name."

"I'll bet it's something girly," said Sirius. "Like Maria."

"It's not Maria."

"Is it Severus?"

"Ew! No!"

"Is it Sirius, or Remus, or Peter?"

"Absolutely not."

"You have to tell us at some point, mate."

"No, I don't."

"I told you about my mother. Remus told you about his mum. Remus and Peter have deep conversations about who-knows-what. We share all of our secrets with each other. Spill."

"No."

"The school knows," Remus pointed out, trying to rid his mind of the phrase we share all our secrets with each other.

"So what?"

"So if you get any legal documents, then we'll know."

"I just won't get any legal documents. Simple. I'll run from the law. Be a fugitive. Sounds fun."

"What if they announce your full name when you make the team?" asked Remus. "You know... Chasers: Lily Hope Evans and James Salazar Potter."

James looked up, a note of panic in his voice. "Is Evans trying out?"

"I don't think so," said Remus. "I was just joking."

"Good. Can't stand her. Traitor to Gryffindor, she is. How do you know her middle name?"

"I don't. I just... I used my mum's first name, as an example."

"Oh." Suddenly, the joke sank in. "My middle name is NOT Salazar!"

Remus ducked just in time.

Remus, Peter, and Sirius watched the Quidditch tryouts that afternoon, and James did... well, he did fine.

He made goals, of course, and his reflexes were incredible. But every time he threw the Quaffle through the goal-post, he would look at all of the spectators, bask in their cheers, stylishly mess up his hair, and promptly get struck with a Bludger while he wasn't paying attention.

He tended to shout at the other players a lot, and he corrected the posture and positioning of some of the people who were actually on the team already. Remus could feel second-hand embarrassment radiating off of him.

Sirius, of course, thought it was hilarious. "Yeah, James!" he would yell. "Put that idiot Quidditch captain in his place!"

James would roll his eyes and continue scoring goals. He was good, Remus would admit, but... well, he was also annoying.

Results came in the next morning, and James was awake before all of them. Remus heard the door open as he dashed downstairs to check the results.

He did not come back for a very long time.

When Remus finally got up for breakfast, James had still not returned. "Where do you s'pose he is?" Sirius asked, who was already awake and dressed.

"He was checking Quidditch results," Remus said.

"D'you suppose he made it?" asked Peter sleepily.

Remus considered. "I hope he did; he was brilliant... but I think he would have dashed up here and woken all of us up if he had."

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't make. Did you see the loathing in their eyes? The rest of the team, I mean. They hated him! And he got hit by loads of Bludgers, too."

"I do hope he isn't upset."

"We'll cheer him up," said Sirius. "He always helps us out. Like with my mum, and with you after you have nightmares. Time to return the favor."

Remus wholeheartedly agreed.

When they found James, however, he was already quite cheery. "I didn't make it," he said lightly, pretending to be fine with it. "They said I wasn't mature enough. Had nothing to do with talent, I'm just too young. Idiots—they'd win the Cup with me on their team."

Remus thought that he smelled tears in the air, but he wasn't sure. "Sorry, mate," he said.

"Me too. Gryffindor doesn't have a hope without me. But, hey, look at it this way..." James grinned. "You're never finding out my middle name."

"What if you make it next year?"

"That's a given," said James, rolling his eyes. "And I checked. They don't announce middle names."

James Potter, it looked like, was so good at cheering others up that he could even do it to himself. Remus respected that.

"Do you want to fly around for a bit outside?" Peter asked, and Sirius and Remus stared at him. That seemed a bit too soon.

But James only ran a hand through his hair and laughed. "Absolutely!"

AN: I've never played a sport seriously. Played volleyball when I was young (single-digit age), but never really got the appeal. Maybe that was because I was terrible.