James spent most of the first weeks of class either napping or daydreaming about Quidditch. Tryouts for the team were going to be held at the end of the month, and James was more determined than ever to make it. He used every free moment he had to zip around the school grounds on his broom, and once or twice he was even able to convince Remus to play Keeper so he could practice taking shots.
Halfway through a lesson on Hinkypunks, Professor Byrne snatched a doodle of a broomstick James was working on right out from under his nose. "I worked hard on that, Professor!" James protested as Byrne crumpled the parchment up into a ball and tossed it aside.
"And all your hard work will amount to nothing, Mr. Potter, if you cross a Dark creature without the proper defenses," the professor retorted. "So I suggest you pay a little more attention to me and a little less to Quidditch tryouts."
James rolled his eyes at Sirius. He'd been excited when he'd learned that they'd be spending the year in Defense Against the Dark Arts learning about defeating Dark creatures, but he'd thought they'd be learning about werewolves and vampires, not Hinkypunks. Personally, James thought that if you were daft enough to follow a creepy floating lantern into a bog, you deserved to die anyway.
James turned to Remus on his other side, about to say something smart to him, when he realized the other boy had his hands over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut. "You all right, mate?" he asked, concerned.
Remus jumped at his voice. "F—fine," he stammered, removing his hands from his ears. "Could you talk a bit quieter, please?"
"I am talking quiet, Re," James said, at this point more than a little confused. "I'm not trying to get another scolding from Byrne."
"Oh. Right," Remus murmured. "Sorry."
At this point, Peter and Sirius were paying attention to Remus, too. He looked pale and sickly, as he often did—Remus always said it was just from stress, or worry over his sick mother, but that wasn't what it looked like to James. He was hiding something, something big; but what could it possibly be?
"I'm leaving tonight, you guys," Remus announced as soon as the boys reached their dormitory after dinner. "My dad wrote me saying my mum's gotten bad again. I said I'd come help him take care of her." Remus looked even sicker and weaker now that he had earlier in the day; the climb up the stairs to their room had left him breathing way too heavily.
"Sure, mate," said Sirius. "You'll miss helping with my next prank on Snivellus, though. It involves Peeves."
The sickly Remus still found the energy to give Sirius a wry smile as he finished packing up his bag. "I'm sure I'll be forced to hear all about it when I get back."
"Well, of course."
Remus threw his bag onto his back and headed out, leaving the rest of the boys waiting in silence until they could no longer hear the sound of his footsteps. Then James said, "Okay, you lot. Operation Remus Lupin begins now."
Peter blinked at him confusedly. "What are you talking about?"
"Figuring out what the hell is going on with him," Sirius said, catching on. "Sometimes he's totally fine, just a bit too worried about books and House points and keeping us from killing any Slytherins—but then he gets all weird and shifty. It's pretty odd, don't you think?"
Peter looked down. "I guess so," he muttered.
"Very odd," agreed James. "So, like I told you last year, Sirius, we're going to get to the bottom of this. Remus's tricks are no match for James Potter and Sirius Black—and Peter, of course," he added.
"Agreed." Sirius pulled out a piece of parchment and bewitched it to float in the air so they all could read what he wrote on it. He took out his quill and started a list entitled Weird Remus Things. "So, let's see: he goes from looking totally normal to deathly ill over and over again, but always says he's fine; he won't ever get dressed in front of us, and he wouldn't go swimming in the Great Lake last year; he keeps disappearing to go see his mum—"
"—and he always looks the sickest right after he gets back," James added.
Sirius's eyes narrowed. "You don't think his parents are beating him, do you? Sometimes I look a little peaky if my mum gets carried away with me, but never as bad as Re does."
"Blimey," muttered James. "Maybe that's why he doesn't like talking about his family. I just thought he was being private." He glanced over at Peter, who had quite a peculiar expression on his face. "Okay, now Peter's hiding something."
Sirius jumped on him immediately. "Spill it, Petey!" he demanded. "Do you know something about Remus that we don't?"
Peter's eyes went saucer-wide. "I promised him I wouldn't say anything," he said quietly.
James and Sirius exchanged a glance; James's heartrate had doubled in speed. So there was something going on. "Come on, Petey," he said. "You know we'll get it out of you sooner or later. Spare us the effort, won't you?"
Peter looked like he was going to burst. "Okay, fine," he said, giving in quickly. "Last year, one of the times Remus was supposed to be home with his mum, I found him in the hospital wing instead. He was all wrapped up in bandages, and Madam Pomfrey had put up a privacy curtain so no one would see him."
"Bloody hell," exclaimed Sirius, quickly adding that to his list. "Well, that sure changes things. Maybe he hasn't been going home at all. He's been getting himself beat up right here—and Pomfrey's in on it too, somehow."
James gasped. "What if the Slytherins are beating him up, and he doesn't want to tell us about it?"
"But he's the only one of us who's actually nice to the Slytherins," Sirius pointed out; "and how would he know to make his sick mum excuse every time he's about to get a beating?"
"Good point," James sighed. He clenched his fists in frustration; he wasn't used to finding problems he couldn't solve.
"I say the next time he says he's going home, we sneak out behind him under the Invisibility Cloak and see where he's really going," Sirius said.
"Brilliant idea!" James declared, clapping his hands together. "Why didn't we think of that before?"
"Because you're daft," Sirius replied. James threw a pillow at him.
Peter was hunched down beside his bed, looking unusually small. "What if Remus just doesn't want us to know?" he asked quietly.
James waved him away. "We're his best mates," he said; "we tell each other everything. If Remus is hiding something from us, it's not because he wants to." James was sure of that.
Sirius folded his Weird Remus Things parchment back up and slipped it between his bedsheets. The boys promised each other they'd keep an eye out for more clues as soon as Remus returned, and the next time he vanished to see a mother who may or may not have been sick, they'd be ready with the cloak.
