Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.

Chapter 2
The Morning After

I slumped on the comfy red couch of the common room, fire rustling lightly from the fireplace and illuminating the area a dim yellow. I could feel a hundred different emotions pulsating inside me but if I were to summarize them into one, I was just thoroughly, positively vexed.

Who the hell did those bloody Marauders think they were, tackling me in the middle of the night as animals and offering no explanation whatsoever? As soon as I demanded for one, Black shut me down with a look that screamed 'Do I look stupid to you?'

It astounded me that they thought I didn't deserve any bit of information after scaring the living shit out of me. I mean, I didn't see anything life threatening aside from that sodding dog before he turned into Sirius Black, but the look in James Potter's eyes when he spoke to Peter Pettigrew about what I assumed was Black's whereabouts projected that something was out there.

It was ridiculous that they thought they could just assign Pettigrew to escort me upstairs and forbid me from leaving Gryffindor Tower for the rest of the night. I mean, okay, that was exactly what happened, and sure, I didn't put too much of a fight (I was still in shock!) but if they thought I'd even forget about that encounter for a second, they've never been more wrong.

I had to gather some third year knowledge to remember the term that identified wizards who could transform into animals but it was ridiculous to suggest that those three pranksters had the magical ability to become Animagi while they were still in Hogwarts. James Potter looked like his only talents consisted of Quidditch and hexing Severus Snape and I don't think I'd ever seen Sirius Black do anything exceptional besides looking impeccably fit. Don't even get me started on Peter Pettigrew.

The only one who didn't look like all his brain neurons underwent synaptic pruning was Remus Lupin, who was curiously separate from the group that night. Perhaps he decided he wanted nothing to do with their sketchy midnight escapades by the Black Lake, supporting my assumption that he was the only one who used his brains in that group of theirs.

Out of things to do, I reached in the pocket of my robes to fiddle with the letter from my mother again only to find nothing to grab. I groaned, assuming I lost it between struggles against James bloody Potter. Again, the universe offered nothing substantial for my disastrous night.

Minutes turned to hours and before I knew it, I was dozing off by the fireplace. Only at the faint sound of a slow creak did my eyes flutter open and my consciousness registered the pain in my neck. Couches hardly offered comfortable sleeping positions, and at the twist of my back towards the entrance of the common room, a pang pretty much cemented that fact.

I was groggy and out of focus. What the hell was I doing sleeping in the common room again?

"Prongs, you're not going to believe this."

"What?"

"The girl is still here."

Finally, my eyes managed to focus on the faces of three exhausted seventh years and I shot up from the couch, memories of the night flooding back.

"You bloody arseholes!" I wildly exclaimed.

Pettigrew squeaked in fear.

"Jesus," Sirius Black hissed. "Anyone ever teach you to use your inside voice? People are sleeping up there!"

I growled, feeling the sudden urge to throw my wand at his head. "Are you kidding me right now? What the hell happened down there? You still own me an explanation!"

"You're adorable," James Potter said, a patronizing smile on his face. "If anything, you should be thanking us because we bloody well saved your life!"

Black shot him wide-eyed look. Potter apparently realized his mistake and appeared to find something interesting in the notice board.

"Saved my life from what exactly?" I demanded, taking advantage of Potter's slip. "Has this got to do with You-Know-Who?"

With the wizarding world at war, anything even remotely terrible was possibly connected to that Muggle-despising freak.

"Are you mad? We've got nothing to do with Voldemort," Black said snippily, apparently a touchy topic.

"I meant," I said, patience thinning, "were you saving me from one of his lot?"

"No," Potter said as if the idea was completely preposterous. "Even if Death Eaters like Snape are allowed to run amok in campus–God knows why–Hogwarts is still safest place to be right now."

"Then I can't imagine why a stag would have to tackle me down while I'm minding my own business!"

"You were out of bed after hours!" Pettigrew attempted.

I was seriously starting to doubt this boy had brain cells at all. Based on the look Potter gave him, I was sure he was doubtful too.

"Um, so were all of you?"

"Okay, that's enough! I'm gonna go insane with you lot," Black said, looking thoroughly annoyed. Then he faced me, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. "Who even are you?"

I tried not to look too insulted.

"Monica," I said dumbly.

Black's eyes squinted ever so slightly. "Monica what?"

"Sorry. Dyer. Monica Dyer. I'm in sixth year."

"Hold on, I recognize you," Potter said, narrowing his eyes and approaching me slowly.

"Er…" I said incoherently, my cheeks heating up. He couldn't possibly have noticed…

"Yeah, you're that kid who watches all our tryouts and practices," Potter said, laughing almost. "Always early to matches too."

"I'm only a year younger so kid isn't exactly–"

Pettigrew barked out a laugh from the wall he casually leaned on. "So she fancies Prongs? No wonder she's so interested in what we're doing."

"Okay, first of all, cocky much?" I said with the last essense of dignity left. "Second of all, I just happen to be an avid Quidditch fan."

"But you don't even play."

"Potter, it's astounding that you have the mental capability to become an Animagus when you can't even comprehend the possibility that people who don't play Quidditch can actually be big fans too," I spat. "I'll just tell the rest of Gryffindor House how unimaginable that is and you can have no one cheer during the match against Slytherin."

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the group and for a split second of stupidity I'd thought it was because of my stellar comeback. Another look at their locked jaws and uneasy expressions though, I realized it wasn't because of my sharp tongue. The mention of their uncanny ability to turn into animals brought the main topic back to light.

"Okay, listen here, Dyer," Black began slowly. "You cannot tell anyone about that. Actually you can't tell anyone about everything that happened tonight. Please."

I studied his gray eyes as they looked almost pleading. Potter watched our exchange, lips in a thin line.

"I want an explanation," I said, standing firm.

Potter sighed in frustration, grabbing Black's shoulder to get his attention. "Let's just take her to Dumbledore and let him handle it."

"And what's she supposed to tell him?" Black said. "As soon as he finds out all four of us were outside at this exact night, he'll know somethings up! I don't know about you but I'd rather no one else finds out about us."

"Hear, hear," Pettigrew agreed.

Potter and Black continued their conversation in whispers. I frowned, suddenly bothered by their missing friend. If I heard him correctly, Black said four of them were outside, not three. So where on earth was Remus Lupin during that whole fiasco? Suddenly the puzzle pieces slowly fell into place but I couldn't quite get to a conclusion.

I replayed the entire night from the spine-tingling howl down to Black's appearance. I could clearly see the panic in Potter's eyes when Pettigrew discussed something that went lose, something that Black attempted to continue chasing.

A dark wizard? A giant? A bloody Chimaera? What could possibly be so dangerous that the three seventh year Gryffindors needed to turn into fucking animals to face?

My eyes shifted to the nearest open window in the Gryffindor common room where the cool breeze seeped into. It was nearly dusk by the looks of the lightened sky. The silvery figure of the full moon was still in view but in the next half hour it would disappear with the darkness.

I blinked in sudden realization. 'As soon as he finds out all four of us were outside at this exact night…'

The soft sound of a closing door resounded in the common room, bringing me back to reality. Potter and Black stopped their whispered bickering and I merely stared at them both unable to believe what could possibly be the only logical explanation of the night. When my eyes met Black's, I think he knew I figured it out.

"We have to go before everyone wakes up," Potter said, already striding towards the boys staircase. Pettigrew followed swiftly behind him.

Lagging behind, Black stopped next to me before heading up with the two.

"We need to trust you, Dyer," Black said lowly.

I absently nodded, head still processing the new almost horrifying information. Black seemed to be satisfied by my unenthusiastic response and turned to follow his friends. Before he could leave however, I couldn't stop myself from saying, "I hope he'll be alright."

Black gave me a curious look before finally heading up. After about five seconds of standing like an idiot in the middle of the common room, I realized I could still catch at least an hour of sleep before breakfast.

As soon as I walked in my dormitory, exhaustion took over and I collapsed on my bed.

"Monica! Oh, for Heaven's sake, wake up!"

A hard shove instantly brought me to consciousness. Eyes snapping open, I absentmindedly took in Lacey's disheveled blonde hair, watery eyes, and furious expression.

"Wha–"

"You bint! You said you'd wake me up in time for Potions!" she hissed.

Merlin, what time was it? Catching a glimpse of the clock, I felt all the color drain from my face.

"Shit!"

Lacey and I wasted precious five minutes arguing about who'd shower first. We were nearly half an hour late for our first class without bloody food in our system. By the time we left the dormitory, our ties were still undone, collars askew, and hair soaking wet. We hurriedly fixed ourselves as we walked, deserted hallways mocking our tardiness.

"Where the hell did you go last night?" Lacey said as she performed a heating charm on her hair.

"Who said I was anywhere?" I lamely attempted despite knowing she'd see right through me.

"There were twigs in your hair."

Thankfully the door to our classroom came to view before I was forced to give a reply. We noisily entered but definitely looked more acceptable than we did leaving the common room. Professor Slughorn stopped mid sentence as we scrambled to the vacant seats at the back of the classroom. Some of the Slytherins snickered at our embarrassing entrance but the Gryffindors looked amused.

"Miss Fenwick, Miss Dyer," Slughorn said, a slight frown on his plump face, "nice of you to finally join us…" He checked the clock on the wall. "Thirty four minutes late."

I nervously waved. Lacey attempted to smile.

"Miss Fenwick, this is your fourth tardy this year. " Slughorn gave Lacey a stern look. "I daresay you're making a record of most tardies before Christmas break."

Lacey's face dropped. I almost laughed.

"Meet me here Saturday after dinner," Slughorn drawled, slowly returning his attention to the board. "The first years are just beginning to brew and many of the desks require intensive cleaning."

Fortunately for Lacey, Slughorn didn't acknowledge her for the rest of the period. We were actually quite lucky we managed to catch up to class before they started brewing the potion of the day. Lacey and I weren't terrible at Potions (I mean, we passed our O.W.L.s!) but Slughorn didn't particularly like us because of Lacey's offhandedness. The fact that I hung around her so much already gave him the impression that I could be the same, so despite being an above average potioneer, he rarely ever acknowledged me or my achievements. I was surprised he even remembered my name.

Nevertheless, it didn't bother me too much since apparently his favorites were forced to go to dinner parties that were dull as flobberworms. Perhaps the most disappointing thing about his neglect was not being able to go to his yearly Christmas bashes wherein he invites successful Hogwarts alumni and I heard last year, Tutshill Tornados' captain, Alexander Ridley, made an appearance.

That night I drowned myself in ice cream and lost dreams.

By the time Lacey and I finished Potions, we were all too ready to spend our free period in the kitchens for a heavy brunch. The house elves immediately provided us with leftovers from breakfast and Lacey and I practically inhaled our food on two wooden stools by a crackling fireplace.

Lacey, as assertive as she is, didn't waste time in resuming her interrogation.

"So where were you?"

"Lacey…" I sighed.

"What, you can't tell me?" Lacey scoffed. "Was it Carson Davies?"

"Wha–Carson… What?"

"The boy you spent the night with, duh."

"Lacey," I said, unamused.

"You mean to tell me I'm not supposed to assume you were down doing dirty business with Merlin knows who after finding twigs in your hair?"

I stared at her, utterly perplexed and unable to comprehend what she was actually insinuating after the overwhelmingly terrible night I just had.

"Lacey," I began sternly, "there was nothing dirty involved unless you count James Potter manhandling me by the Black Lake."

"James–!"

"Lacey!" I shushed her. Bloody girl never knew when to keep her voice down and mouth shut. When she actually tilted her head down in an effort to look less conspicuous, I almost died of shock.

"Okay, let me just clarify," she said lowly. "You were out with James Potter?"

I sighed. "Definitely not in the context you're thinking, you bloody perv. But yeah. Him and his two sidekicks. Possibly the fourth too."

At the confusion etched across her face, I spilled from beginning to end. Lacey listened attentively and perhaps for the first time in a long time she managed to keep her big gob closed. I recounted the events in detail and she merely stared in bewilderment.

By the time I'd finished, we sat in a few seconds of silence as I assumed she tried to make sense of the whole story. I didn't leave anything out, including my more than likely correct theory about Remus Lupin's condition.

Between the two of us, Lacey was clearly more into the typical girly things, having greater appreciation for cute boys, fashion, and gossip while I read Quidditch magazines and had Muggle newspapers delivered from my dad just to know how Arsenal was standing in the English Football League. So to her, anything to do with the Marauders, the most fit and popular group of boys in Hogwarts, was a huge deal.

When Lacey finally spoke, her eyes were unusually dark, hand raking through her blonde hair.

"That can't be," she breathed. "Dumbledore wouldn't let… I mean, do you know how dangerous…"

"I'm positive he knows about it," I said. "Potter suggested they just bring me to Dumbledore probably to swear me to secrecy."

"But you saw them too," Lacey said, understanding in her eyes. "Dumbledore doesn't know they run around with a werewolf once a month."

While I didn't understand why they would do that in the first place, it had to be the only explanation. Perhaps they made sure Lupin didn't wander too far? Making sure he didn't bite anyone in Hogwarts? It was bothering because Dumbledore couldn't possibly accept a werewolf without a full proof plan. I hardly doubted he'd let Lupin wander around Hogwarts grounds while he was in that state. I was missing something.

Based on the frown on Lacey's face, I knew the hole in my theory bothered her too. Alas, her curiosity only went so far, and since there was no way to settle our questions for now, she let the issue go as quickly as I confessed.

"I can't believe James Potter straggled you for ten minutes and you didn't snog him once."

I shot her a disgusted look. She merely shrugged then suddenly she burst into uncontrollable giggles.

"I can't believe he noticed you used to watch all their practices!"

Cheeks burning, I gave her the most vicious glare. Trust Lacey to bring up the most embarrassing part of my story.

"You know I watched for the Quidditch!" I desperately defended myself.

Lacey continued to laugh at my expense. Despite the begrudging defensiveness, I probably would have found myself hilarious if I weren't… well, me. Let's say discovering the wizarding sport had me way too excited for a normal first year and I collected all the ruling books and history novels about the peculiar sport.

My dad, the outrageous sport fanatic, read and understood Quidditch rules and plays with me when I was home and while I was in school, I'd religiously watched Gryffindor's tryouts and practices, learning their styles and approaches.

Taking from my dad, I too fully invested in my teams. Once I cemented my Gryffindor pride, I was one of the loudest cheerers, biggest trash talkers, and proudest representatives of Gryffindor House. In the British and Irish Quidditch League however, I grew accustomed to the Tutshill Tornados.

Lacey always found this part of me amusing and it was even more hilarious that Gryffindor's captain and star Chaser actually noticed my "stalkerish tendencies" as she described it.

"I'm sorry, Monnie," she said in between laughs. "It's hilarious."

"I stopped watching every practice in like fourth year," I grumbled.

"He must have been so creeped out!" Lacey guffawed.

"Or he thought I fancied him, conceited git."

It took Lacey another five minutes to calm down and only then did we decide to leave the kitchens and actually do something productive for once; we hit the library to finish our homework for afternoon classes. Being best friends with the queen of cramming pretty much everything, I'd get dragged into the nasty habit too from time to time. Lacey's tendency to leave things at the very last minute expectedly reflected on her unfortunate tardy record.

The rest of the day unfolded without conflict and I was in an unexpectedly good mood by the end of it. Lacey and I split up for our last classes, taking Ancient Runes and Arithmancy respectively, and we usually met by the Black Lake before dinner. By the time I arrived after getting dismissed a bit earlier than usual, the area was already filled with lounging students, some studying and most conversing. Majority of the students were sixth and seventh years, probably enjoying free period or skipping out.

On the stone window ledge I sat composing the letter to send to my dad about the Christmas situation, loud hearty voices stood out in the area. I glanced up and stiffened at the sight of three boys lounging by a tree about eight meters from where I sat. Two of them roared in delight at something Sirius Black just said, who was the only one standing and leaning against the tree trunk. The rest sat relaxed on the grass, James Potter practically on his back as if unable to keep himself upright in laughter.

Again, Remus Lupin was missing but that only further supported my assumption of his possible condition. He must have been in the hospital wing, sleeping off the eventful night.

On a side note, it was actually quite irritating to see the three Marauders at ease as if they didn't just spend the night running around castle grounds and dealing with a sulking sixth year. I mean, they didn't even have eyebags! How unrealistic was that?

After a few more seconds of bitter gazing, I turned my attention back to more important matters at hand: my Christmas plans. I continued scribbling the letter on my parchment, quill nearly poking holes at the aggressiveness of my writing. Just like that, the good mood was gone.

A/N

Hi! Inspiration stays and hopefully for long. I'd love to know what you all think. Happy New Year!

-Finner