January 10th, 1976
The sooner he had a working map in his hands, the better. For now, Peter had a few scraps of parchment with squiggled, abstract lines that were supposed to represent the path from the unused classroom they were using to prepare the Animagus potion to the Gryffindor common room. Their mapping project paused for the holidays, but as soon as they returned, they'd put together a couple of key routes. It wasn't as though he didn't know how to get to the common room, but he was trying to use a secret passageway James had found. He circled the 'P' on the parchment with his fingernail and looked ahead. At the end of the corridor, between two windows, was a small claw-footed wardrobe. He squinted at the map and twisted it around in his hands. Was that what the 'P' was? They hadn't been marking windows, so it was hard to tell. He checked that the corridor was empty before he scurried into the wardrobe. The worst that could happen was that there was nothing inside and he couldn't find the passageway. Or that people were snogging in there.
He looked around the corridor once more, making sure it was empty, and then opened the door. At first, he was confronted by a row of hanging cloaks. He inhaled a mouthful of dust and coughed. Peter pushed past the cloaks to the back of the cupboard. He ran his fingers over the wood until he found a tiny doorknob, as James had said. He gave it a twist. The back of the wardrobe swung open, revealing a very narrow stone staircase. He eyed it cautiously. It looked far too small for him to fit in, but he'd lived in the magical world all his life, and he knew that things weren't always as they appeared. He stuck his arm in and swung it back and forth, testing the gap. His heart raced. Peter was always a bit frightened of finding something in these strange little places. Luckily, his hand only found air. He slowly edged through the gap. He emerged into a tight but comfortable enough space at the bottom of the stairs. If there was someone else with him, they'd have to walk in single file, but on his own he was perfectly fine. He tucked the map into his pocket and started on the stairs.
He made two circles of the stairs before coming to a landing with an archway. He passed through and followed a very short hallway to a wide door. Peter gently pushed it open. It took a moment to realise where he was; he was behind the portrait of Glanmore Peakes in the far east of the castle, only one floor below the entrance to the common room. He stepped out and the portrait swung shut. He nodded approvingly. Good shortcut. He made his way upstairs to the Fat Lady, who popped a grape in her mouth upon seeing him.
"Dunderdiddum," Peter said. The Fat Lady pouted at him. He wrung his hands together. "Um. Dudderdindum?"
"I suppose," she said, eating another grape. The portrait swung open, and he scrambled through the hole.
The common room was fairly busy, it being a Saturday and all, and the coldest day of the year so far. The cosiest armchairs had been claimed by the seventh years and the early-risers, so younger students littered the floors, playing games of Gobstones and chess and Exploding Snap. Peter stepped over a first year and was rewarded with a spray of stinking green sap from the first year's Gobstones game.
"Hey!" Peter exclaimed, shaking his leg. The sap clung to his trousers. The first years glared at him.
"That's what you get for interrupting our game," the bespectacled boy declared severely.
"I didn't mean to," Peter grumbled, stomping over to the spiral staircase that led to the boys' dormitories.
He reached the fifth landing and sniffed deeply. As expected, it absolutely reeked. He knocked in a pattern on the door – three times quickly, two times slowly, and four times quickly again. There was some murmuring, and then the door clicked and opened. Smoke poured out of the dormitory, like someone lifting a lid on a boiled kettle. He blinked furiously and made out a messy-haired silhouette amongst it all.
"Pete," James croaked, "come in." Peter coughed as he stepped inside. James shut the door and slunk over to his spot on the floor. They'd torn the pillows and blankets off the beds to make a sort of fort in the middle of the room. Peter could barely see. The smoke stung his eyes. He counted two more people than there should've been.
"Who else is here?" he asked, sitting down cross-legged. Sirius sprawled next to him, sheets draped over his long, thin body, his long dark hair fanned across a tasselled red pillow.
"Marlene and Catherine," Remus answered. Peter followed the sound of his voice and spotted him, whose back was against a trunk, on Sirius' other side. His eyes adjusted to the dim light; the curtains were closed, and only a few flickering candles illuminated the scene. He saw the whole party; James was on his right, and next to him was Marlene, then Catherine, Dale's little sister, and then Dale himself, who sat with a large glass bong in his hands. He drew from it deeply, and raised his head, looking as though he was looking to heaven. He parted his lips. A large cloud of smoke in the shape of a hare ran forward, dashing through the air. They raised their heads and watched it run higher and higher before it dissipated into the general haze of the room. Solemnly, they returned their gazes to their company.
"What are they doing here?" Peter asked, indicating the girls. James ruffled his hair. He wasn't wearing his glasses; his eyes were very red.
"I invited Marlene," James said. "We smoked together on New Year's Eve. And then Dale invited Cathy." Cathy had grown since Peter last saw her, over the Christmas break. She still seemed kind of young for it all, to him. But she was Dale's sister. Dale had come to Hogwarts a smoker, which had scared them at first, and then became the coolest thing ever. The Roshfinger kids probably started smoking when they were five.
"Hey, Peter," Marlene said. Peter raised a hand in hello.
"Did you get the feedback you wanted?" asked Remus. Peter scratched his nose. Remus, of course, had no idea about their whole Animagus thing, so Peter had said he'd gone to see Professor McGonagall about the Christmas holiday homework he'd handed in.
"Yeah." He laughed nervously. Remus smiled.
"Best not to ask?" he said. Peter shrugged, but that was exactly what he wanted Remus to think. Cathy giggled.
"For you," said Dale, reaching across the circle. Peter took the bong from him and drew in a deep breath. It filled to the bottom of his lungs. His head spun a little, and he pulled away, exhaling. A grey pony trotted forth from his cloud of smoke. It pranced around the circle, pausing by each person to paw the air or shake its mane, and then it galloped towards the ceiling and faded into nothingness.
"What is this?" Peter laughed. Sirius held out his hands for the bong, and he handed it over. Sirius lazily propped himself up on one elbow.
"Bit of this, bit of that," Dale said. "Quality marijuana and a few herbs from my mate's farm. He's growing for this apothecary in Wales. He has little Welsh ponies. That's what that was." Dale waved his hand to the ceiling, where Peter's pony had disappeared. "Cathy and I spent Christmas with him. Good sort, he is." Peter had no idea where Dale's parents were, and never asked. There were other Roshfinger kids scattered throughout the school – one in Slytherin, another one dating the Gryffindor Quidditch captain – but only Dale and Cathy ever seemed to spend time together.
"He makes excellent pie," Cathy nodded.
"Well, if he makes pie, he must be a good sort," said Marlene. "Give it to me after, Sirius."
"We need music," Remus announced. He got to his feet and staggered over to the chest of drawers with the record player atop it. He bent down and rummaged through the crate that stored the boys' records.
"Hobgoblins!" James shouted. "It's right there – look -"
"Nah, put on the new Enchanted Zippers record," Sirius said, exhaling a small, waddling duck. He poked a finger at the bird, who flapped its wings angrily and ran towards Cathy.
"Enchanted Zippers," Marlene agreed. "Have you got the new record already? I looked at it and it costs a fortune."
"I have a fortune," Sirius grinned.
"Not Enchanted Zippers," Dale commanded, the most authoritative he'd been in his life. "We're relaxing right now, man."
"I'd be alright with the Hobgoblins," Peter said.
"No, no, I know what to put on." Remus held up a hand to silence them. He dug around in the crate and selected something to play. He put it on the turntable and lowered the needle on to the record. Peter didn't recognise the upbeat acoustic notes. Marlene, however, groaned.
"No," she said. "Lily loves this one."
"Lily has good taste," said Remus, retaking his spot by Sirius.
"It's so American," Marlene said, wrinkling her nose. "Not like cool American, either. Boring cowboy America."
"I think cowboys are cool," James said thoughtfully.
"Not these ones," said Marlene.
"The music may be simple, but the lyrics are evocative," Remus argued. He slid down until he was half on his back, head resting a little higher than Sirius'.
"Who is it?" Peter frowned.
"Miriam Wakefield," Marlene answered, shuddering dramatically. "Lily used to have her poster above her bed."
"Huh," James said. Marlene looked sideways at him.
"Huh," she agreed. Sirius passed the bong over to her. She hit it and passed it to James. "I remember when you used to like her," Marlene said, watching James inhale. "Sometimes I thought you'd never get over it. You asked her out all the time. You were obsessed with her."
James coughed as he exhaled.
"Amateur," Sirius snickered. James flipped him off.
"Well, I did get over her," James said. "Who wants this?"
"Me, please," Peter said. He took the bong from James. Remus shut his eyes as Miriam Wakefield began to sing in a very thick accent.
"I mean, she hates me, or whatever, and there are better girls around," James continued. "Like Lisbete. It was just a stupid crush I had as a second year."
"She doesn't hate you," Marlene said. "She thinks you're an obnoxious twat."
"Perfectly good chance with her then," Remus said dryly, not opening his eyes. James looked at Cathy, whose face was completely blank. Her grey eyes were the colour of a winter storm.
"I don't need a chance with her. I've got Lisbete," James said.
"I still can't believe you're dating a third year," Marlene said, shaking her head.
"I can't believe it either," said Sirius.
"She's nice," James said. "And she likes me."
"Those're solid grounds for a relationship," snorted Marlene. "She likes you. She doesn't murder crups in her spare time."
"I always go for the crup-murderers," Sirius sighed. Then he corrected himself: "No, actually, that'd be Lily, wouldn't it? Snivellus, Vane…"
"She didn't date Snivellus," Marlene corrected, "but he is a greasy cunt. He gives me the creeps. I wish she'd drop him." There was a murmur of agreement.
"Lisbete plays the violin and the piano," Cathy said, from nowhere, her face still impassive. "She's good in Herbology but only with the non-violent plants. She puts her heart into everything and takes everything to heart, she does the best Cheering Charms of anyone in our class, and she can whistle 'God Save the Queen' perfect to a note. She's more than just nice," and there was such venom in her voice that Peter recoiled, "and that's why she deserves a surprise. Isn't it, James?" she said, but she looked right at Peter, straight into his heart. He shot James a desperate look. Their surprise planning had been somewhat limited. Incredibly limited.
"Right," James said strongly. "Cathy's right. Lisbete's brilliant."
"A real peach," Marlene said, raising her eyebrows.
Dale leaned over, reaching his hand towards Peter. Peter gave him back the bong. Dale settled back, an unpleasant look on his face.
"We need to calm down," he said slowly. "We're here for the good times. Let the music wash over you. No more talking." Strangely, everyone did as he said. Peter laid back on the floor. He stared at the painted ceiling. Miriam Wakefield's acoustic guitar drifted through the smoke.
"It's just another day in the fields, and I'm telling him, we're waiting for the coach to arrive, but it won't, 'cause it's just another day in the fields, and we're waiting, waiting for the coach to arrive. It'll bring bad news, but that's all we know how to hear, from the coach, so it'll be just another day in the fields."
"How can she hear bad news from the coach if it doesn't arrive?" Marlene said. "That's stupid."
"You're not listening properly," said Remus, calmly.
The music made Peter feel sleepy. He laid there in a stoned daze, only sitting up to take the bong when it made its way back to him. Sirius actually fell asleep, his head slipping off the pillow and onto Remus' leg. Remus didn't move. He must've been too far off to care. The music finished, and it was Cathy that rose to turn the record over. She looked funny, from the ground. Her legs were three sizes too long and her face seemed softer. Instead of going back to her spot between Marlene and Dale, she pushed Sirius' legs aside and sat next to Peter. Dozily, he propped himself up.
"Hi," he said, feeling stupid. She inhaled sharply.
"Have you got a plan?" she asked. "Lisbete needs this. I need you and James to have this under control."
"It is under control," Peter said. He could control nothing quite easily. She stared at him, and he swallowed. "You're right," he said, switching tack. "She needs this. She's been really good to James, and he's my friend, and I want to do what I can to help him. It's not the best plan in the world, but we're trying." That sounded convincing, he thought to himself. Bumbling friend. He knew the bumbling friend role inside and out. Bumbling friend who wants to help and doesn't know how.
Cathy narrowed her eyes. "What is it? Your plan?"
"A picnic," he said, plucking the idea from the fields the song had planted in his mind.
"James and Lisbete have already had a picnic date," Cathy said. "And it's snowing." He blinked slowly, like some typical dumb guy. It wasn't hard. He felt dopey.
"Oh," he said. She sighed, and looked down at her knees, which were tinted orange by her stockings.
"Can you sneak into Hogsmeade?" she asked. "We could go to the Hog's Head. They never report to the school." They could sneak into Hogsmeade. He was pretty sure James had used the Invisibility Cloak with Lisbete before, and she hadn't run her mouth. Cathy seemed like she could keep a secret. Peter scratched his nose.
"I'll talk to James," he said.
"Good." She laid back, and so did he.
The haze in the air was beginning to clear now that their smoky contributions had ceased. Miriam Wakefield crooned, playing her guitar, vocalising a desire to return to the days when you had to fly your broom from place to place, rather than taking a Ministry-approved portkey. It did sound nice, Peter thought. A time without exams, and random girls cornering you to get your friend to take their friend on a date. But then he wasn't very comfortable on a broom. He'd never go anywhere. Or maybe he'd convince James to fly him around. Or maybe they would've made the Animagus potion then too, and he'd turn into a bird or something.
He prodded the leaf mulch with his tongue. It had nearly turned to liquid. Luckily, it only had to last until tomorrow night. He'd double-checked this morning that all their ingredients were ready, and that their mock-potion (they'd made one without the Mandrake leaves, just to see) hadn't exploded and turned the place purple or the chairs into frogs. Everything was fine. It was only a matter of sneaking away from Remus, spitting out the leaves, and getting Sirius to start the brewing. Oh, and –
"We need new dew," Peter murmured aloud.
"What?" said Marlene.
"Pete," said James, lifting his head up. James looked at Peter, and then over at Remus, who frowned.
"Oh. Sorry," Peter said. "It evaporated. So we need to get some in the morning."
"What do you need dew for?" Remus asked.
"It's a surprise," said James.
"Yeah," Peter added. Remus drummed his fingers against his leg, next to Sirius' head. He said nothing. He laid down again. Peter did the same. It was weird. This time in two days, there could be a lightning storm. In three days, he could be running around as a duck. Truthfully, he had no idea what he would become. James he could picture as a lion, the typical Gryffindor. Sirius would be something cool that they'd never think of – an eagle, or a panther, or a dragon or something. Peter supposed with his luck, he'd be a chicken. Or a flobberworm. His heart dropped. That would suck. If James was a lion and Sirius was a dragon and he was a flobberworm, what was he supposed to do? James and Sirius would probably eat him. And there was the whole Remus thing – what was a flobberworm meant to do when it was near a werewolf? Shrivel up and die, probably. And that was assuming the potion even worked – what if they'd messed it up and he got stuck as half-human, half-animal forever? They'd put him in St. Mungo's for the rest of his life. It wasn't that he didn't trust that James and Sirius thought they knew what they were doing. But they were fifteen – well, Sirius was sixteen, but that wasn't much better.
Deep down, at the bottom of his heart, he thought they ought to wait. Peter wanted to help Remus, of course, Remus was one of his best friends, but there had to be other ways to do it. If they could only search a little harder… For a fleeting moment, he imagined knocking the potion over in an 'accident'. Sirius would be pissed with him, but James would sort it out. It'd buy him another month of time. Maybe they could think of something else. But James and Sirius were his friends, and he couldn't sabotage them like that. Maybe he could just let them drink the potion first. Once they'd transformed successfully, he could know that he'd be okay. Did that make him a bad friend? He only wanted to be careful. He was sure one of them would want to be the first anyway.
He looked over at Remus, whose eyes were shut. He swayed his head gently to the music. He looked so normal. It was hard to believe he could really be a dark creature – sorry, that he turned into a dark creature, Peter corrected himself. Sometimes it all seemed like a story Sirius had made up to freak him out. He wished it was. Things would be a lot easier for them without a werewolf living in their dormitory. And he thought it would be better for Remus, too. He knew not to say that out loud. James would jump down his throat. He crossed his fingers and just hoped that the Animagus potion would work as it was meant to. And if he had any luck at all, he wanted to use it on not becoming a flobberworm. Anything would be better than that.
January 11th, 1976
Sirius was sober. Stone cold. He had just finished lunch, and the food soaked up the very last of the alcohol in his system, leftover from the night before. He hadn't smoked anything other than tobacco in almost twenty-four hours. He flexed his fingers. Since his return to Hogwarts, and subsequent acquirement of as much alcohol as he could access, he had kept himself fairly inebriated at all times. It had been almost a week. It wasn't the length of time that was unusual – he liked a bit of Firewhisky every night where he could get it, enough to round off the sharp edges of the day – but the volume. It had been more than the usual light buzz. It had been enough that being sober felt unpleasant. He had a pounding headache and felt as though he might be ill.
Today – or, tonight, more precisely – was too important to risk too much of a buzz. Tonight, he had to give the best potion-making performance of his life. Tonight, they would spit out their leaves and he would brew three doses of the Animagus potion. There was no room for fucking up. Fucking up would mean fucking their whole plan up and fucking Remus over. Sirius would not let that happen. No fucking way.
Peter dropped his fork. It clattered against his plate. Sirius returned to the conversation groggily. His head laid on his folded arms on the table. He felt like shit. Tiny little hands pulled at the lower lids of his eyes and dragged them down, hooking them over his chin. Tiny little hands belonging to tiny fucking gremlins. Peter spoke now. He kind of resembled a tiny fucking gremlin. But he was a lot rounder. Bit of a pumpkin head. There was a spell for that. James would know it. Peter finished his little contribution, and Remus spoke.
"I can hardly blame them," Remus muttered darkly. Sirius lifted his chin, listening. James held a letter, probably from his parents. Peter whacked a closed fist with an open palm, but nervously, not in anger. Remus looked tired.
"I can," Sirius said, without any idea of what they were talking about. "It's bullshit."
"It is bullshit," James agreed, and Sirius was glad to know he'd picked the right side. "Minchum's a cock." Definitely the right side.
"It makes sense," Remus said, staring at the table. "If they think that he's recruiting teenagers, they'll want to identify those who might attract his attention. Get to them first."
"Exactly," said James, ruffling his wet hair. He'd come to the Great Hall straight from the showers after Quidditch practice. "Get to them. Fucking lock them up, that's what he'll do. It'll look like the Ministry's doing something, and all the old families will throw their weight behind it as if they're not helping Voldemort recruit on the side." Sirius pieced the puzzle together quickly; the Ministry planned to implement some absurd, limiting way of identifying part-humans (or perhaps just werewolves) that Voldemort could be interested in.
"They're prejudiced until it benefits them," Sirius said, forcing himself to sit up. "Until they can use you to hurt someone they hate more."
"It's fucked," James said. He slammed the letter onto the table. "They obviously don't want people thinking about it too hard, that's why it's all a secret until it's voted in. Fucking Minchum!" He grabbed a bread roll from a bowl and shoved it into his mouth. Peter's eyes widened. He started making the wildest faces possible, jamming his tongue into his cheek. The leaf. You could eat with it in your mouth, but it took care. A mouthful made it hard.
"I know for a fact your mother taught you table manners, she's told me herself," Sirius scolded James. He reached across and poked the bit of bread that dangled out between James' pink lips with his finger. James coughed. Sirius pulled his hand back, and James spat out half of the roll.
"That's disgusting," said Lily Evans, who walked past with Marlene and Mary at that very moment. Marlene cackled.
"Fuck me," James muttered. He took his wand from his pocket. "Evanesco." The bits of bread vanished. Peter's eyes were the size of dinner plates, and he frantically jabbed at his cheek. James eyed him and nodded smoothly.
"What the hell was that about?" Remus asked, brows furrowed. Peter grimaced.
"I thought he might choke," he said. Sirius wiped his finger on Remus' robes, and Remus flinched.
"There you are," Sirius grinned. "Certified James Potter saliva."
"How kind," Remus said dryly, and flicked him in the shoulder. Sirius grasped it and dramatically threw his head onto the table.
"You wound me!" he cried. "How could you?"
"Well, that's what we part-human monsters do," Remus said, eyeing the letter. James' face fell. Sirius sat up at once.
"Moons," Sirius said, as James said, "Moony, that's not true."
"Yeah, wounding us isn't what you do," Sirius said, "you're meant to wound our enemies."
"Sirius," said James.
"Unless it's just bred in me, as a dark creature, to go for those who are good," Remus said, with a funny look on his face. Sirius couldn't tell if he was joking.
"Maybe you're bred to have taste," he said. "I wouldn't want to eat Snivellus, the grease would destroy your organs." Remus smiled glumly. Sirius beamed at him, just to see how he'd react. Remus looked away, but the smile on his lips was wider. A win, then. He grazed the leaf mulch inside his mouth. Tonight, their plan would enter its next stage. Tonight, they would move closer to being able to do something for Remus. They couldn't stop him from being a werewolf, but if they could be there – at least he wouldn't be alone. Sirius knew what it was to be alone and afraid in the dark. He didn't want it for Remus. Not ever again.
To an extent, Sirius had chosen his path. Not that it was much of a choice – be a half-way decent person or a raging fucking bigot – but there had been one. If he wanted to avoid the worst of the consequences, he could shut up and do as his mother said and hope that she wasn't in a bad mood, and it might work. It did not matter how good or bad Remus acted, if he behaved, if he was kind or cruel. Regardless, once the full moon rose, he would transform. His human efforts were for nothing. Remus had no choice.
"You don't think it'll actually pass?" Peter asked nervously. "I mean, your dad said everyone was against it."
"Everyone he's spoken to," James corrected.
"Maybe Dumbledore's doing something about it," Peter said. "Maybe that's why he hasn't been here." They looked to the staff table. Dumbledore had been absent since Thursday, but that wasn't unusual – he was a busy wizard.
"If anyone can stop it, Dumbledore can," James said confidently, tucking the letter into his robes. "Right, I'm finished. Are you all ready?"
"Let's go," Remus said briskly, getting to his feet. Sirius followed.
They wandered around the castle for a bit, trying to think of something to do. Sirius opened his mouth three times to suggest having a drink. Peter suggested getting high again, and Sirius struggled to convincingly dismiss the idea.
"Are you ill?" Remus asked him, frowning. "You're normally all for substance abuse." Sirius snorted, but the words smarted. It wasn't like getting drunk or high was all he did.
"I'm aiming for enlightenment," Sirius informed him. "Living clean." Peter laughed.
"Yeah right," he said. Sirius flinched. In seconds, he shot off a jinx that caught Peter on the shoulder. His face bubbled and boiled, and white-headed pimples erupted from his angry red skin, bursting out one-by-one until they covered most of his face. Passers-by laughed and James pressed his lips together, furiously fighting a smile. Remus leaned against an empty patch of wall between two portraits, arms folded across his chest. A smirk flitted across his face. Sirius grinned at him.
"What the hell?" Peter demanded, whipping out his wand. "I didn't even say anything!"
"My mistake," Sirius shrugged. "I meant to hit James. I thought Lisbete was coming by." He fiddled with the stud in his ear.
"No, you got all funny because I laughed at you," Peter said, and he kicked the ground. "I don't want to have to go to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will make me tell her who did it."
"Just say you didn't see," James chimed in, giving Sirius an unnecessarily stern look. "C'mon, we'll take you up."
"What's on your face, Pettigrew?" shouted Avery, from Slytherin. He swaggered down the corridor in horrendous orange robes. Peter covered his face with his hands. James twirled his wand and shouted the same incantation Sirius had used. Pimples burst across Avery's face.
"You gave it to him, you bastard!" James shouted. "Look, Avery's contagious!" He jabbed his wand at Avery, who looked furious. A group of girls turned their heads and pointed, gaping, and one shrieked and ran up the corridor. Avery pulled his wand out and started to cast; Sirius shot off a Tripping Jinx and he fell flat on his face.
"Quick," he grinned, and the four of them ran for the stairs before Avery could get to them. His blood thumped in his legs. James howled with laughter. They reached the third floor and skidded to a halt. Peter's hands were still clasped tightly over his face.
"I just had the best idea," James said, glowing with excitement. Remus arched an eyebrow. Sirius matched his smile.
"Oh yeah?"
They checked Peter into the Infirmary, doing their best to look concerned and all.
"It came out of nowhere," James said. "Avery – Avery from our year – he walked past us and touched Peter's hand, and we all thought it was really weird, and then -"
"He was covered in it," Sirius concluded. "Who knows what Avery did – I didn't even see him draw his wand – it must be infectious." Peter didn't look very happy, but he didn't say anything to contradict their story. Madam Pomfrey sniffed.
"Sit down, Pettigrew. I'll fetch you a potion – and boys, the rest of you, out. I'm sure Pettigrew doesn't want you to be here with him. He needs to recuperate." James pouted. Sirius reached out to Peter, stopping his fingers only an inch from his face.
"I want to be here," Sirius told him. "I want to be with you as every single pimple bursts -"
"Out!" Madam Pomfrey ordered, shooing them.
James, Sirius, and Remus left quickly. Remus shook his head at them.
"I can't believe you," he said. James laughed.
"Yeah, you can," he said. "It's perfect. It's families like the Averys that are the sort to be all for Minchum's stupid policies. If they want to punish people for having a disease, fine. Personally, I reckon those boils are nastier than lycanthropy." Remus looked over his shoulder, checking they were alone.
"Avery deserves it," Sirius agreed. "We better get Snivellus, too."
"No, don't, his skin's already awful," Remus said. "Your work won't be able to be fully appreciated."
"We'll hit him with it somewhere nasty, then," Sirius grinned. James pulled a face.
"You can do that, I'm not jinxing him anywhere that's covered," James said. Sirius shoved him. James shoved him back. Remus whacked them both.
They set up in a corridor overlooking the grand staircase for maximum access. Remus gave them a sense of an authority that meant nobody thought too much about why they had their wands out. And so it began; at random, James and Sirius shot off Pimple Jinxes. Girls shrieked and boys cursed, and they all spun around to see where it had come from.
"We should've brought the Cloak," James said. "Bugger." But they kept on going and avoided being caught, thanks to Remus shouting diversions and fiddling with his badge when people came too close. The mayhem inevitably attracted Peeves, who swept through with glee, shouting and jeering at students. He swooped down upon them.
"Hello, Peeves," Remus said.
"Peeves!" cried James. "Good to see you!"
"Good to have your company, Sir Peeves," Sirius laughed.
"And where are your spots, Potter?" Peeves asked. "SPOTTY POTTY! SPOTTY POTTY!"
"I haven't got spots," James said, flashing his wand. "But you know, I heard it's all coming from Avery, the Slytherin one in our year."
"It's a disease," Sirius said. "Spreading from the pure-bloods – actually, James, let's do that."
"Good idea," James agreed.
"If you could not tell anyone, Peeves, that it's from Avery, that would be very much appreciated," Remus added. Peeves' eyes lit up. He flung himself out over the moving staircases.
"SPOTTY!" he howled. "DISEASED! YOU'RE DISEASED!"
"It's Avery's fault!" Sirius shouted.
"AVERY'S THE SPREADERRR!" Peeves declared. James and Sirius took that as their cue and shot off a dozen spells each. Remus dashed over to the stairs and called for calm. Sirius made sure only to aim at students he knew were pure-bloods, or Slytherins. He noticed that James' targets were similar. They hit the same person, a curly-haired girl with a sour expression, and the pimples sprouted so fast she was covered in the blink of an eye. Then they started to erupt again, a second layer of pimples forming across the first, so that her face stuck out an extra inch. She screamed. But unlike the others, she pulled her wand, and began to fire.
"WHO DID THIS?" she screeched.
"AVERY FROM SLYTHERIN, WHY HE'S A WEE PRAT, HE BRINGS 'ROUND THE BOILS LIKE A PLAGUE-RIDDEN RAT!" Peeves sung merrily.
"AVERY!" The girl screamed. She began to move her wand in patterns Sirius recognised from Defence Against the Dark Arts. He and James looked at each other.
"Run," James said. They sprinted.
"MOONY!" Sirius shouted, as they passed him. Remus cast a Shield Charm as a spell rocketed towards them. Students crashed together as they ran up or down the stairs, trying to escape the line of fire. At least half of them had boils across their face.
"Fuck off!" A small girl shouted, pushing an older boy with very large red pimples down the stairs. "You're going to give me the disease!" Others on the staircases pulled out their wands. Peeves increased his volume, adding another verse to the merry song of Avery the Plague Rat. The portraits began to yell suggestions, and a few screamed, running through other frames higher and higher to escape.
"It's fatal!" someone shouted, clawing their pimply face.
"PLAGUE! PLAGUE IN HOGWARTS!" Peeves added helpfully. Remus ran to join them. Sirius grabbed his arm. The three of them sped around a corner and flattened themselves against the wall.
"You've brought the plague back," Remus said. "That's very impressive. Well done."
"All in a day's work," said James, ruffling his hair.
"Tomorrow, we should bring other great relics of the fourteenth century back to Hogwarts," Sirius declared. "What think'st thou? We shall crown a new king and ride our horses through these hallowed halls as we hunt the great, mythical Snivellus."
"We shall present his furs as a body to the noble King Remus," James added. Remus rolled his eyes.
"I don't want, under any circumstances, Snape fur," Remus said clearly. "Black, we discussed my tastes, and I don't like Slytherins."
"Ah, well, we'll have to give you Pettigrew fur. Beware, Your Grace, it may be marred with pus," Sirius warned. James turned to him.
"We cannot hunt Sir Peter!" James said. "We shall find different prey."
"Sir Peter is a guaranteed catch," Sirius said. "And he is only a knight."
"I care for all those in my dukedom," James said. "You cannot slay him."
"Then what will the King eat?"
They squabbled back and forth, debating who to feed to their werewolf-king (Sirius thought James' girlfriend would be perfect, if he'd rather give her up than Peter). They vaguely looked at the students that streamed past, many of whom were boil-covered.
"I didn't think we jinxed that many," James said.
"It must be virulent," Remus said wisely. "It's spreading."
A pair of smaller boys – Hufflepuffs, by their scarves - came around the corner at the end of the corridor, whispering furiously. One of them pointed at Sirius and his friends, and for a moment, he thought the two kids had caught them. They scampered over, directly to Remus, and it became clear it was because of the shiny prefect's badge pinned to his chest.
"Excuse me," said one boy. "Um, could, could we ask you something?" James stepped back, grinning, and Sirius smirked. Seeing prefect Moony in action was a treat.
"Yes. What's the matter?" Remus said clearly. He even changed his voice a little, softening it, enunciating. He sounded like an adult, not their Moony. The Hufflepuff boys exchanged a look, and the first boy spoke again, scratching his temple.
"Is it true, about how this disease started? You know – the pimply one?" He looked very concerned, as if his mother was deathly ill from the Avery-boil disease. Remus looked thoughtful.
"You have to tell me what you've heard before I can tell you if it's true," Remus said. The boy's cheeks went pink.
"Oh, yeah. Er." He and his friend had a quick whispered conference. "So – erm, someone said…Someone said this Slytherin boy, he…" The boy went even redder. "He…fondled a…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "A flutterby bush."
James choked and threw himself into the wall to hide his laughter. His whole body trembled. Sirius dug his nails into his palms and nearly put his teeth through his tongue trying to keep a straight face. Somehow Remus managed it. His stomach felt like it might split in two. Oh, Merlin, he couldn't breathe. How did one fondle a bush? Unless the boys misunderstood what the bush had referred to – but who was Flutterby?
"Well," said Remus, looking troubled, but in a way Sirius recognised as being completely unauthentic. The bastard would be laughing underneath it all. "That…that would be the age-appropriate story, I suppose."
"Merlin's balls," Sirius whispered.
"No, no, he can't, I – I'll lose it," James gasped, his face turning purple. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes.
"Age-appropriate?" The boy asked. Remus rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yes…Well, as far as I know, I would have to say that sounds mostly accurate…"
"So there's an age-inappropriate story? The truth?"
"Well…"
"We could handle it," the boy said, stars in his eyes. His friend nodded eagerly. "We're really mature. I mean, over Christmas, four girls wrote to me." He puffed out his chest. Sirius was surprised a Hufflepuff could be so popular with the girls. He leaned over to James.
"He sounds like you," Sirius whispered. James took a few ragged breaths.
"No he doesn't," James managed. "The only girl I cared about in first year was Lily. I didn't start bragging about all the other ones 'til second year. You were the one with the girls all mad about you." Sirius had been the recipient of a great deal of bashful glances and notes folded into the shape of hearts, but he'd never paid them much mind. For the most part, the girls were bores.
"Well," Remus said delicately, "you'd know then what happens when a man and a woman love each other very much…"
"Yeah," the boy said, a blush creeping up his face.
"Well, this Slytherin boy, Avery…he and this flutterby bush loved each other very much, from what I've heard…" Sirius clenched his legs together so he didn't piss himself laughing. Only Remus could pull it off with that much authority. He was a fucking genius. Sirius loved him for it.
"What?" The boy's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"No, I am," Sirius said. Remus shot him a look.
"Unfortunately," Remus nodded gravely. "So, remember that. Be careful with all these girls you've got writing to you…you never know."
The boys squeaked and hurried away. Once they were out of earshot, the three of them proceeded to laugh until their stomachs ached and their lungs couldn't take it anymore. James clutched Remus' shoulder, and Sirius grabbed onto James to hold himself up as the laughs rattled his chest.
"You are diabolical," Sirius said. Remus smiled very modestly. A thin, faint scar on his cheek went whiter. His brown eyes crinkled.
"What?" said Remus, arching an eyebrow.
This potion has to work. I'll never forgive myself if it doesn't. I don't want you to be alone. Never again. Sirius shrugged.
"I think we should call it Averitus," he suggested.
"Averitus," Remus said. "It'll make the books."
Sirius would get the potion right. There was no other option.
January 11th, 1976
Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.
"Furthermore, Professor Forcier has advised that if you would care to open 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' by Galatea Merrythought – which most if not all our fourth years and above should have a copy of, and which younger students may borrow from the library – there are three full pages on the Pimple Jinx, which detail and include a drawing of its effects. If you do so, you will find the 'symptoms' of this disease are in fact the effects of this Jinx." Her eyes flickered across the Great Hall, giving each house in turn an incredibly stern look.
The six Gryffindor prefects sat together at the end of their house table, closest to the front. Remus was on Lily's left and Alice Rhysfield, the Head Girl, was on her right. Alice's boyfriend and the seventh-year boys' prefect, Frank Longbottom, sat opposite Alice. Marcus McLaggen was opposite Lily, and Laura Vickers was on his right. The other houses had taken a similar approach, stacking the prefects together.
Lily glanced down the table. Out of all the houses, for whatever reason, Gryffindor had the greatest number of students present. The 'virus' – the jinxing rampage – had struck the Slytherins the hardest. Lily bit her lip. Severus had been struck three times, and was in the Infirmary awaiting a stronger dose of the Cure for Boils potion. James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew huddled together at the other end of the table, right by the door, whispering excitedly. If it wasn't for the fact that apparently Peter had been the first one to be 'infected', she would've sworn up and down it was James and Sirius' doing. She wouldn't put it past them to have helped 'spread' it to Severus.
"If you have been afflicted, you are encouraged to present to the Infirmary in the hospital wing to receive a Cure for Boils potion from Madam Pomfrey. Professor Slughorn and some of our senior Potions students have been so kind as to use their free time to brew extra potions to assist Madam Pomfrey in curing this epidemic of hysteria," Professor McGonagall continued. "Let me be clear, this is not being transmitted in any way other than students jinxing other students and lying about it. Should the student or students who created this farce be found, they will be punished severely. Any student found using the Pimple Jinx on another student will lose house points and face detention. May I remind you that any use of magic in the corridors without a staff member's approval and supervision is strictly prohibited. Thank you. Now, you may eat." Professor McGonagall stepped down from the lectern. She pressed her lips together so tightly that they were practically invisible. Her knuckles went white around her wand.
Lily and the other prefects watched with wide eyes as she took her seat at the staff table. The chair on Professor McGonagall's right was empty – Professor Dumbledore was still missing. He was on a business trip, somebody had said. The Ministry of Magic needed him for some parliamentary thing. If she was honest, the whole magical government confused her a little. She could never get a straight answer about what the political parties were, though there were clearly two main sides, and while there was an election for the Minister for Magic, there weren't local MPs like in the muggle world. It was odd.
"Alright," said Frank Longbottom, breaking into her train of thought. "Bets? Five knuts on Potter." Lily laughed. Remus helped himself to a large mouthful of mashed potatoes, smiling lopsidedly. He knew something. She was sure of it.
"No, we had practice this morning, and Brown ran us ragged. If he didn't fall into a dead sleep after that, then he's not human," Laura Vickers said. "It's someone we wouldn't expect. Like a Ravenclaw."
"No, final exams are only six months away, they're all studying now," Alice grinned. "It has to be a Gryffindor."
"I agree," said Lily.
"Maybe it was you, Alice," Frank said. "You were telling me how bored you were today."
"Yes, but we found something to do," she said dismissively. Lily snorted into her dinner. Remus raised his eyebrows and Laura smiled deviously. Alice glared at them, spearing a sausage. "I'm going to scourgify your minds. All of you."
"Not mine?" Frank said hopefully. Lily laughed and looked over at Marcus. He gave her a thin smile, shifting awkwardly.
Gradually, chatting amongst themselves about the outbreak, the prefects cleaned their plates and set down their cutlery. Then they were treated to pudding. Lily passed the chocolates she found to Remus, who in turn reached for the sugariest sweets he could find to give to her. She had to get him to stop, because she was sure she'd rot her teeth and gain a stone. He smiled at her, showing two chocolate-coated teeth that made it look as though they'd fallen out.
Once everyone had spoiled themselves, Professor McGonagall dismissed them.
"Good luck," Alice said to Lily and Remus. "Keep an eye out for people jinxing each other, and the little kids getting all hysterical. That was our biggest problem."
"I had younger students coming up to me to ask me how it had started," Remus said, as they all got to their feet and stepped over the benches. "One boy told me that it had started with a Slytherin fondling a flutterby bush." Frank snorted. Lily pictured it and couldn't help but to giggle.
"What?" she said. "Are you serious?"
"The number one thing you have to remember is however stupid and nonsensical you think people can be, they'll always find a new low," Alice advised. "Have fun, you two. Come get me if you have too much trouble."
"We'll be alright," Lily said. "Thanks, Alice."
Lily and Remus headed for the doors and waited on the far side of the Entrance Hall for the crowds to subside before they started their patrol. Despite Professor McGonagall's warning, many had their wands out. Fortunately, they didn't need to intervene. Most of them just cast Shield Charms or waved them at people who got too close. Those who were wandless often drew the hoods of their cloaks up to hide their faces. When the light caught them, it revealed a nasty rash of yellow pimples.
"I feel like we need those medieval plague doctor masks," Lily commented. Remus chuckled.
"But the beaks would have to snap," he said. "If someone says something too stupid, we can chase them around with our big snapping beaks."
"To be fair, half of them wouldn't be familiar with the spell. We only learn it in fourth year. It must've been an older student who started it," she said thoughtfully. She really didn't know who it might've been, if it wasn't James and Sirius. It wasn't the Slytherins' style, and the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs weren't prone to causing such mass-scale chaos. If it had been a Hufflepuff, it had probably started with an accident, and if it had been a Ravenclaw, it was probably a case of an argument between two people that others had mimicked. It puzzled her.
"I think that's likely," Remus said. She looked sideways at him.
"Peter was one of the first to get it, wasn't he?" she asked. "You must've seen who jinxed him." Remus hesitated, and then opened his mouth.
"Remus! Evans!" Her head snapped around. James Potter beamed at them both, throwing his arms open wide. His hair was a mess, as usual, and he wore well-tailored maroon robes that flared at the bottom. The most surprising thing about his appearance was that he lacked the accessory of Sirius, Peter, or his girlfriend hovering next to him.
"Hello," Remus said. "Where are Sirius and Peter?"
"Sirius went for a smoke and Peter went to get started on some homework," James answered promptly.
"You didn't go with them?" Remus asked.
"No, I thought I'd hang out with you and Evans. Sirius is in a mood and I don't want to do work." James threw his arm around Remus, who was a little taller and tried to shrug him off. James then linked arms with him. He grinned at Lily.
"What?" she asked.
"What?" he said, eyes bright. She shook her head. The crowd began to thin, as most of the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs marched downstairs and the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors went up. Mary and Marlene waved as they passed by. The older Slytherin boys that hadn't been affected - Jugson and another two she didn't recognise - slunk out of the Great Hall and down the stairs to the dungeons, looking shifty. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. They hadn't had their wands out, or their hoods up, but she felt sick at the sight of them in a way nobody else had made her feel. She was being stupid, she knew. It was just all the rubbish about every Slytherin being evil that was getting to her. The sort of nonsense James sprouted. James was just as bad, she told herself. She looked at him. He was annoying and obnoxious and a bully and just generally awful. Jugson was a prefect. Logically, James was the worse of the two, but even with him right there, she felt normal. Well, annoyed that he seemed to be planning on tagging along. But the sweat on her palms was because Jugson, looking furtively over his shoulder before he ducked into the stairwell, had burned into her brain. The worst James would do would be to get her caught up in some stupid practical joke, or the crossfire of a duel with someone who'd said something nasty to her. He'd drive her absolutely crazy, but she didn't think he would hurt her. Just Severus, because he's a Slytherin and so apparently, that makes it okay.
God, what was wrong with her? She was using the same logic James and Sirius used to justify going after Sev. Just because Jugson wore a green tie around his neck didn't mean he was a monster. He could be perfectly nice. It wasn't as though he was Mulciber or Selwyn. He only hung out with them, and Sev did the same thing and was nothing like them.
She sighed and turned to Remus. "First floor first? I don't think we'll need to keep much of an eye on the grounds tonight. I don't know who would be going outside in this weather." It had stopped snowing, but it was blowing a bitter gale.
"Anyone out there is certifiably mental," James chipped in. "Everyone will be inside."
"I was talking to Remus," she said. Remus looked over at the large oak doors of the Entrance Hall. One was propped open, just in case, but outside was black, the snow icy blue.
"I think starting on the first floor is wise," he said.
She and Remus made for the stairs, James hurrying along beside them. She wondered if he and Sirius had had a fight. He seemed happy enough, but he kept toying with his hair. She wished he would give it a rest. Maybe if he'd stop touching it for two seconds, it wouldn't look like a bird's nest. Didn't his dad make hair potions anyway? What had happened to the family discount?
They checked the grand staircase for trouble. The stairs moved from landing to landing and people got off at various stops. Only two had their wands out, and they quickly stowed them away when Lily hollered. The rest of their patrol on the first floor was routine. Nobody was in the courtyards because it was freezing. The far side of the castle was all but empty. There, James struck dramatic poses in front of each of the windows, claiming he was providing them with something better to look at. Remus egged him on.
"You're a bad influence," Lily told James sternly. He grinned.
"What should I be next, Remus?" he asked, affecting a sultry voice. "What do you want from me?" He batted his eyelashes.
"A ballerina," Remus said decisively. Lily and James looked at him.
"Alright," Lily said, giggling. Remus went pink.
"What?"
"Nothing, mate," James said, using his normal voice. "You know what you want. Good for you."
"We're mucking around!" Remus said, turning pinker. The pinker he went, the more James laughed, and, as loathe as she was to admit it, the more Lily giggled. It was just the way he'd said it. She'd never heard him sound so confident of anything.
"It's all good," James said. "You just like those long limbs, delicate wrists -"
"The flexibility," Lily coughed. Remus' mouth dropped open. James shrieked like a girl.
"LILY EVANS!" he cried, pointing at her. The giggles were overpowering. She stumbled backwards, bent double, clutching her stomach.
"Stop, no, I'm sorry," she said, raising one hand.
"You're filthy!" James declared.
"Shut up!" she said. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"I never knew you had it in you!" James said, goggling. Her face heated up.
"Shut up, Potter," she said. "Sorry, Remus. It just slipped out."
Remus shook his head. "It's fine," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "Just wash your mind out, Evans."
"Shut up, Lupin," she beamed at him. She gathered herself up and they kept on walking.
They looped back around to the grand staircase and crossed over to the west side of the castle. A few students jogged past with last-minute letters in their hands, probably hoping in vain to get a response by morning. Lily hummed the tune of a Miriam Wakefield song as they walked. Remus slipped his hands in his pockets, looking deep in thought. James, however, appeared to have no penchant for peace and quiet.
"Evans, did you hear, McGonagall's asked me to enter the Transfiguration Tournament," James said. She hadn't. It didn't surprise her, though. Unfortunately, James was very good at Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall would've been mad to choose anyone else.
"Congratulations," Lily said, meaning it.
"Yeah, thanks, Evans. You should come along to watch me win. You can bring a flag for me. Pete said he'll make one." He grinned from ear to ear. She pulled a face at Remus, who smiled apologetically.
"Really," she said. "I think I'm busy that day."
"I didn't tell you when it is," James said cheerfully.
"That's right. Remus, I think we should go upstairs. It'll be busy, what with everyone going to get a potion or trying to see their friends. Half the castle will be there. It might be worth having a walk around."
"That sounds like a good idea," Remus said. They turned around, heading for the nearest staircase. James scrambled alongside them. Didn't he have anything better to do? If James was truly as popular, talented, unique, and in-demand as he liked to claim, then it was weird that he had nothing better to do on a Sunday night than follow around two prefects. If he was bored, couldn't he go annoy his girlfriend or something? That poor girl was doing public service, Lily thought.
They climbed the stairs. James adjusted the way his robes fell over their shoulders.
"Sorry if I'm a little slow," James said, not looking sorry at all. His face was lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. Lily thought a team of scientists needed to run tests on him. What was there to be thrilled about? "I had Quidditch practice earlier," James ploughed on. "It was really vigorous. Four hours. But I can't complain. We're going to smash the Hufflepuffs. They don't stand a chance."
"You know," Lily said, as they headed for the hospital wing, "I don't really care about Quidditch. I mean, it's fine, but I prefer football." That wasn't strictly true; football was about as fine as Quidditch. She'd never gone to a proper match. She'd played it a bit on the street when she was small, as they all had, but only the boys bothered playing it as teenagers. And that was only if you counted kicking the ball into a solid wall as hard as they could and trying to get it to hit one of their mates in the head when it bounced back.
"Football?" James cried. "What do they even do in that? Kick a quaffle through a hoop? What's the point?"
"What's the point in chasers?" Lily retorted. "Couldn't it just be a competition between the seekers, with the beaters trying to knock them off their brooms? Why chuck around a ball if someone can grab a snitch and win even if they're otherwise behind?"
James launched into a passionate explanation of why she was 'mental', and Lily tuned him out. The hospital wing was chock-full of people, to the point that the three of them had to stop at the back of the crush. Lily craned her neck. She could barely see the doors of the Infirmary, which were shut.
"Here we go," she said to Remus. He grimaced.
"Here we go," he said. James stopped his rant abruptly.
"Averitis," he said sadly. "I never thought this day would come. It's overwhelmed our healthcare system. That bastard's doomed us all." She folded her arms across her chest, looking at him accusingly. Even if Peter was the first victim, she supposed it was possible a Slytherin had jinxed Peter and James and Sirius decided to take revenge.
"'That bastard'?" Lily asked. James raised a hand to stop her, looking pained.
"You don't want to know," he said. "It's too horrible."
"Prick," she said. His mouth dropped open in outrage.
"Evans!" he said. "Filthy mind and filthy mouth tonight!" She ignored him. He continued blabbering on. She tried not to think at all. It was stupid, but even with Remus and James, even in the middle of the school, walking around at night made uneasy. She needed to get over it. And mostly, it was fine. It was only that her knees locked when someone unexpected came around the corner. Her wand was half-hidden up her sleeve, and she clutched the end of it tightly.
They moseyed along, basically undisturbed. A few people stopped to say something to James. Dirk Cresswell waved at Lily. They were on the third floor when someone came running. Lily's wand was out in a flash. Her body tensed, ready.
It was only Peter.
She tucked her wand back up her sleeve and relaxed. His round face shone with sweat despite the cool of the night. He reached his arm out.
"James! James! I've been looking for you everywhere." He skidded to a halt. His hair was plastered to his forehead. Lily looked at Remus, who frowned deeply. James swaggered up to Peter, cool as could be.
"Alright, Pete? What's the matter?" he asked easily. Peter gulped.
"Erm – erm – the matter," Peter said, scrunching his face up. "Well, it's – it's Sirius."
"Sirius or serious?" James asked. Peter took a moment.
"Both," he said. "You need to come." James adjusted his glasses. Remus stepped forward. Lily suddenly felt as though she was intruding upon a private conversation. She looked the other way, down the long, empty corridor. A few portraits finished up their dinners. A very old wizard with a thick grey beard snored gently, blowing newts out of his nostrils with every exhale. Huh. Lily had never noticed that he had newts up his nose before.
"What's going on?" Remus said, voice low. Lily could only just hear him. She tried not to listen, but they were too close for it to make much difference. "I can intervene."
"He's not in trouble," Peter said.
"You said it was serious."
"It is, but you're on patrol, Moony, you should stay with Lily…" Moony?
"She's right there, Peter."
"I know."
"Then don't call me that." Remus said sharply.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"Look, I can sort it out, whatever it is." That was James. "You should stay with Lily. Honestly. With everything going on…and you know she's a muggle-born." Part of Lily wanted to jump in and tell him she didn't need protecting, actually, she was perfectly capable of defending herself. The other part of her hadn't slept properly since Christmas and half-jogged to the bathroom when she had to go alone. She gritted her teeth and pretended she hadn't heard. When had she become a damsel-in-distress? It made her want to hex something. Maybe she would end up being a 'carrier' of that stupid Pimple Jinx.
"James," said Remus, sounding tired. James stepped forward and put his hand on Remus' shoulder. His eyes were intense.
"Trust me," he said, voice low. He and Remus looked each other up and down, taking in every inch. Lily held her breath. She felt like exhaling would break something. Peter was completely still. Remus met James' eyes.
"Okay," he said. The spell broke. Lily breathed out. James beamed, and clapped Remus on the shoulder.
"Good man," he said. "We'll see you after. Have fun. Don't get infected." He winked at Lily, and she poked her tongue out. "See you, Evans. Be good."
"Oh, no, Remus and I were going to get in a knife fight with Oddpick for busting our and Hagrid's chimaera-smuggling business," Lily said. "You've ruined our plans, Potter. You're a plan-ruiner."
"That I am," he said brightly, waving to them. Peter waved too, and they trotted off.
Something was fishy. She shot Remus a questioning look.
"I don't know," he said. She believed him. "Something's been off for a couple of months. Every so often they'll act like this." Lily recognised the flash of hurt in his eyes and decided to drop it. The politics of their little group was none of her business, and honestly, she had other things on her mind. Tenderly, she put a hand on his arm. He didn't move away. She slipped her hand around and into the crook of his elbow.
"Do you want to go kick couples out of the broom closets?" she offered, with a smile.
"Alright," he said. "Let's stop them from giving each other Averitis."
"Good idea."
January 11th, 1976
There were not enough words in the world to explain how thankful Sirius was that the night sky was high and clear, alight with tiny white fires. Two-thirds of the moon shone above, casting its milky white eye upon him. Against the snow it turned the world an eerie blue. The trees of the Forbidden Forest stood tall against the horizon, dark as midnight; the ground beneath him glowed cerulean. He held three labelled crystal phials between his fingers, and they shimmered in the light. At his feet was a wooden box, big enough to hold everything that he needed, but small enough to be easily carried. It locked with a silver key, which meant that he seldom used it, because Remus was always nearby. Tonight, if James had succeeded, Remus would be on the far side of the castle. He had to have succeeded. It was imperative.
Sirius turned to look behind him, at the looming silhouette of Hogwarts castle. Most of the windows were lit yellow, the light occasionally blotted out as someone walked by. He pricked his ears, watching keenly. Waiting. He'd hear them before he saw them, if things went well. A soft breeze trailed icy fingers across the back of his neck.
He swirled the leaf mulch around his tongue. They had to spit it directly into the vial. Any contact with a foreign object would render it worthless. There was so much that could go wrong. So much that would set them another back, that would condemn Remus to another full moon alone. Sirius would not fuck it up. The other two might, but he would leave them behind. They could start from the beginning. He could not.
The snow crunched. Four footprints marked out a path from the castle.
"Worm, smoke, lemons, fuck." James' voice. They'd made a passphrase to verify that it was really James and Peter, but now Sirius thought it had been unnecessary. He'd know James' voice anywhere.
"You made it," Sirius said. James appeared as he pulled the Invisibility Cloak off himself and Peter. Peter's face was red and blotchy; James' glasses were askew.
"'Course we did," James said. He slung the Cloak over his shoulder, which gave him the appearance of having a floating arm.
"Remus is fine?" he asked.
"Doesn't suspect a thing," James said confidently. Yeah, right. He knew that Remus knew that something was going on. He scratched his lip and looked to the sky. The sooner there was a storm, the better. But not tonight. Tonight had to be clear.
"One of you, Hover Charm this," he instructed, gesturing to the wooden box. James pulled out his wand and did so. The key hung on a ribbon around Sirius' neck. He lifted it over his head and turned it in the lock. Click. He opened the box. Inside was a pull-out tray for him to work on. He carefully placed the phials down and adjusted the tray so that he could see the contents that lay underneath it. Inside were three glass phials that held dew they'd collected that morning, and three Death's-head Hawk Moth chrysalides. He had practiced making the potion without the leaves before; they were now adept at plucking out hairs rather than breaking them off, and he could slip a chrysalis through the narrow neck of a phial without breaking it.
It all came down to this.
"The first step is to deposit the Mandrake leaf in the crystal phial," James said. He'd produced a piece of parchment from his pocket, where he'd written the instructions and accompanying calculations. Sirius was the best brewer of the three of them; James had the most thorough understanding of the theory. It had been him who had weighed the Mandrake leaves they'd picked and determined which were best for each potion, and it had been him who had sent back the first chrysalides they'd ordered because they weren't 'right'. "We need to be careful," James continued. "It all has to go in. If you miss, it'll fuck the whole potion up. Right?"
"Yes," Sirius said, looking darkly at Peter. Peter fidgeted his fingers furiously. Sirius gave James and Peter their respective phials, which were labelled with their initial. He picked up his own. It shimmered in the glow of the waxing moon. He uncorked it. James did the same. The opening was the width of his ring finger.
"You're sure this is what we want to do?" Peter asked timidly. Sirius stared at him.
"This is what I am doing," he said clearly, every word frosted with ice. "Nobody is making you do this. If you don't want to, you're free to piss off. I want to help Remus. If you don't, you can go back to the dormitory."
"We all want to help Remus," James said, putting an arm around Peter.
"Good," Sirius said coolly. "Uncork your phial, Peter." Peter swallowed, but did as he was told. The three corks laid on the pull-out worktable. "Don't miss."
"Are we doing it now?" Peter squeaked.
"Count of three," James said. Sirius nodded in agreement. "One. Two. Go."
Sirius' stomach rolled. Then the adrenalin took over. They were doing it. He touched his lips to the mouth of the phial and spat. The leaf mulch clung to his teeth, to his gums, it settled under his tongue. He spat and spat and spat. The world narrowed to just his mouth and the crystal phial. Tiny bits of spittle and wet leaf flecked the insides of the phial. He dug into the crevices of his mouth with his tongue, retrieving every last piece of the leaf. His mouth watered and dried like a beach in king tides. For one moment, he glanced away, looking at James' sheet of calculations. An eighth of a teaspoon of Mandrake leaf missing would unbalance the whole potion. The weight of the chrysalis would be too great, which meant, as James had explained it, that they would be able to transform into an animal, but they would be unable to transform back. If they replaced the chrysalis with something smaller, the potion would be too weak for their size, and they would be stuck as part-human, part-animal until the end of their days. They had to get it exactly right. That was why it had taken them since their second year to get to this point. That's why they had been sneaking away for months. It had to be perfect.
"Does it have to be all of it?" Peter gasped, looking up. Sirius was ready to kill him. Nobody was forcing him. If he didn't want to do it, all he had to do was have the balls to say it.
"Yeah, mate, all of it," James said. "You must be halfway by now. Not much longer." Peter and James resumed their spitting. Sirius focused. He ferreted the last of the mulch out of his mouth and wiped his teeth clean. That was all of it. His mouth tingled. It felt strange for it to be truly empty.
His eyes returned to the moon as James and Peter spat. It hung in the dark sky as it had for eons, as it would well after Sirius was dead. Its immortal, unseeing face stared at him. Nobody knew why the moon affected werewolves the way it did. There were myths and legends, but they were only myths and legends. Why? He longed to ask. How do you control the beating of his heart, the colour of his eyes? The moon kept its secrets from him. Like his mother, he thought, it was unfailingly selfish. All that mattered was the power they wielded, the way that under their stern gaze, they turned to little boys once more, eyes stinging with tears. You bitch, he thought.
"That's all of it," James said. He held his phial up in the light and looked well impressed. "This is it, hey? The culmination of all our efforts. Or it will be, when we transform." Sirius looked at his own potion hungrily. In the soggy crumbs of Mandrake leaves was the potential to do something for Remus. All they could offer was company, but Sirius thought it was almost enough. If he had James or Remus or even Peter by his side in the dark halls of Grimmauld Place, he could survive it.
Peter spat into the phial and lifted his head up. "Done. I think," he said.
"Are you done or not?" Sirius said. "You have to be done. No 'I think'."
"I'm done," Peter said quickly. "I'm done. Definitely done." James grinned.
"Good work, lads. Now for the hair. Remember to get the root." Sirius didn't need to be told. He yanked out the hair, biting into his lip as he did so. He checked that it was the complete strand and fed it into the phial. Once all three of them had done it, James referred to the instructions again.
"This is all you, now, Sirius," he said, passing over the parchment.
"I know." They shared a look. A lump formed in his throat. As much as he didn't give a fuck if the other two managed it or not, they were all in it together. Sirius' success was their success, and if Peter failed, they all failed. Sirius would do it alone if he had to, but there was a reason all three of them were doing this. James and Peter trusted him to do this. He had to trust them not to fuck it up.
"Put the phials here," he said, indicating the tray. They did. He worked carefully, using the silver instruments that had come with the set to measure out the morning dew precisely. His heart stopped beating for the seconds it took the dewdrop to roll off the teaspoon into the phial. It didn't spill. His body started working again, and he began counting. At forty-five, he slipped the chrysalis into his phial. His stomach clenched. It did not break. He'd done it. His potion was made. But there was no time for him to celebrate his victory. Carefully, in complete silence, he measured the dew and counted for James and Peter's potions. The chrysalides just fit into the phials. He kept his hands steady as he corked each phial.
"They're finished," he whispered, finally. To talk at a normal volume seemed coarse.
"You did it," James breathed. "Sirius – you legend."
"Is that really it?" Peter said. "Really really?"
"Yes. Now they go away. Until the next lightning storm."
"Goodbye, friend," James said, waving at his potion.
"Goodbye," Peter said, waving too. Sirius had to join in.
"Bye," he said, giving his potion a tiny wave. One-by-one, he tucked the potions into the box. He pushed the tray in and over it, which cast the rest of the contents of the box into darkness. He shut the lid and locked it with the silver key. James got rid of the Hover Charm and tucked his wand away. Sirius set the box on the ground.
"Now we wait," he said. The three of them stared at each other. They'd done it. They'd managed to make the Animagus potion. Most likely. They would only know for certain when lightning next struck. If the potions turned a blood red, they had done it. It was no longer just a fantasy, just an idea flitted about when Remus was in the Infirmary. It was real.
"We did it," James whispered, breaking into a grin. "We did it!" he hollered. He jumped into the air, punching the sky with his fist. His glasses fell into the snow. He threw his arms around Sirius and Peter and pulled them into a hug, ruffling their hair. Sirius swung his arm over James' shoulder and grabbed Peter by the scruff of the neck, pulling him closer. Tears rolled down Peter's cheeks, and Sirius realised he was crying, too. They'd done it, after two years of sleepless nights and whispered conferences and sneaking around under the Invisibility Cloak. His head crashed against James'. Under the large, waxing moon, standing calf-deep in the snow, the three boys embraced, becoming one dark-robed silhouette. An age passed before they parted. James rubbed his naked eyes.
"Boys," he said, looking slightly concerned, "I think I dropped the Cloak."
"What?" said Sirius. "You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"Are you serious?" Sirius said. "How are we supposed to find an Invisibility Cloak? It's invisible!"
"Well, we can do anything, can't we?" said Peter, vibrating with excitement. "We did that. We can do anything."
"Too right, Pete," James said. "Now, I'm blind as a fish, so get on your hands and knees and start looking."
January 12th, 1976
It was a short walk from the Infirmary to the North Tower, and Mary was very glad of it. Any longer and she might've had to ask for Marlene's company. She and Marlene were the best of friends, of course, they all were, but Lily understood better. Marlene would come, but she'd make a couple of snappy comments that would make Mary want to sink into the ground and cry. She didn't want to cry before she even got to class.
When Madam Pomfrey had swept into the Infirmary, waving them off to their lessons, Lily had looked up from the body she was bent over and chewed her lip.
"I can come," she said. "He'll be okay, I'm sure of it. And I'll be fine to come back down. It's quick." Her red hair swung in its sensible ponytail. After Potions, where Lily had paired with Mary and Severus Snape's absence had stuck out like a sore thumb, Lily, Mary, and Marlene had come up to the hospital wing to sit at his bedside. Marlene grumbled a lot and made off three times to get them lunch from the Great Hall. Mary didn't touch any of it. Looking at the plates made her feel dizzy. Lily was pale and clasped Snape's hand. Mary hovered awkwardly, and was devoutly thankful that Snape was asleep, because he was kind of frightening when he was awake. He always looked at her as if he wanted nothing more than for her to disappear. She didn't think he'd appreciate her being there. He looked awful. He'd come down with the sickness – or, people had jinxed him – last night like half the castle (Mary had avoided it by hiding in their dormitory), but had been hit with it three times before he got to the Infirmary. Overnight, someone had had another couple of goes at him. In all the commotion, Madam Pomfrey had missed whoever slipped in. Mary's first thought was that it had been James Potter or Sirius Black, but Lily of all people said she doubted it. They'd been up to mischief probably, but she'd been on patrol and hadn't seen anything suggesting they were going to go after Snape. Mary couldn't think who else it would be, but then, who liked Snape? His Slytherin friends were scary, but he never really seemed to be close with them. He was only close with Lily.
"I'll be okay," Mary had said, twirling her hair, scared to the pits of her bones. But she said a silent prayer, clutched her bag close to her, and headed out of the very full hospital wing and towards her next class. Most fifth years had the afternoon off, but not those who took Divination. They only got an early mark. At least in Divination, most of the time, Mary could stay quiet and drink her tea without any trouble. The only problem would be if Dorcas Meadowes kept trying to help her. She was thankful that Professor Nicholl cared enough to get her a tutor, but it made her feel even stupider. And now she had to spend two hours every Monday afternoon trying to please Dorcas, who was as smart as Lily but rather more intimidating.
The corridor was empty. Madam Pomfrey had rushed her out a little early. That was okay. Running up the spiral staircase to the very top of the North Tower was horrid. Mary much preferred to take her time. Her footsteps echoed on the flagstones. A tapestry fluttered. She pulled her cloak around her. Cool draughts carried distant whispers. She turned a corner. They were working on Heptomology in class now, which was apparently similar to the work they did in Arithmancy, and it completely boggled her. She wished she could've stayed in the Infirmary with Lily and Snape. Her being bad at Divination hadn't mattered so much when it was only her who cared, but now that Professor Nicholl and Dorcas were putting effort in, she felt that failing would let them down terribly. All their hard work would be for nothing.
Someone ran past her, a boy, and she flattened herself against the stone wall, not wanting to become an obstacle. Especially not with all the jinxing going around. He dashed into the North Tower and disappeared up the stairs. She didn't recognise him. Cautiously, she pushed off the wall and scurried towards the open door. She passed through and looked up. The boy was gone; far above was a dark female figure who had to be Dorcas Meadowes. Mary's heart sunk. She was in for another lesson of disappointing people.
"Have you seen Evans?"
Mary turned around. She didn't recognise the voice. She only vaguely recognised its source; a much taller boy who looked closer to being an adult wizard than one of her peers. He was a Slytherin. Maybe one of the ones Snape hung around. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Just a squeak. He narrowed his eyes. Mary's heart raced. She should've got Lily to come. Or Marlene. She was frozen in place. Oh, he hated her. She was sure of it. And he was so much taller.
"Infirmary," she managed. "With Snape." The teeny tiny part of her brain that managed to think logically told her, that's what he'll want. He was probably friends with Snape and wanted to visit.
His lip curled. "I see." A muscle in his jaw twitched. "You and her are the same, aren't you?" Mary stared at him. After a long moment, she shook her head.
"I'm not a prefect," she said, voice high.
"But you are a muggle-born," he said. "We keep track of that sort of thing." Mary stepped backwards. She hit her ankles on the sharp corner of the bottom step. She was hopeless at Divination, stupid with schoolwork, a fool generally, but she knew what every muggle-born at Hogwarts knew. When a Slytherin identified you as a muggle-born, and when they were much bigger and taller and undoubtedly better at magic than you, your best option was to get to a teacher as soon as possible.
He would catch her on the stairs. His legs were longer. She hadn't eaten today and felt a bit clammy. Her eyes filled with tears. He blocked the doorway. She was out of options. She looked up at the endless spiral of stairs, and at Dorcas, almost at the top. Her mouth went dry.
"My – my friend's up there," she whispered. "She's a prefect."
The boy looked up. He laughed. It was strangely full. Her legs wobbled. A hot tear dribbled onto her cheek. She was such a crybaby.
"Look," he said, pointing. "She just went through the trapdoor." Mary went cold. Her body swayed and she sat down, hard, on the steps. Her stomach growled. The stairs were freezing. She wanted to stand up again, but then she'd look even stupider, standing up and sitting down and standing up again. She was an idiot. She dully registered that she should've got her wand out. It was buried deep in her bag, and she felt frozen. She couldn't reach it.
"You're just going to sit there?" he asked, looming over her. Her stomach contracted. She started to cry. He sighed. "Evans would've been more fun." Mary trembled. She needed to stand up. She needed to get up. She lifted herself off the cold stairs, getting to her feet –
"Confundus."