Author's Note:
This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" and other things written by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.
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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.
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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.
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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "The Seventh Horcrux" by Emerald Ashes.
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Chapter 3 – So You've Ended Up in the Past and Now Inhabit the Body of a Mortal Enemy: A User's Guide
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There's a time and a place for getting a smart mouth.
– Ronald Bilius Weasley
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"Since Mr Snape and Mr Potter find themselves to be above listening to what I have to say about this term's project — a potion which will be difficult for even the best of you budding brewers, I assure you — they can both come up front where I can make sure they pay attention."
James and Severus glared daggers at one another as they gathered their things and made their way to the front of the classroom where the Professor had indicated. Horace Slughorn looked on in disappointment as two of the more promising members of his Slug Club begrudgingly stalked to their places before him. Why couldn't the talented duo see the benefits forming a friendship, or at the very least an alliance, would present them? Such a terrible waste in talent.
"From now until I say otherwise, the two of you will be partners in all assignments in which pairs are required. This, of course, includes your end-of-term project." Horace held his hand up, stopping their anticipated objections before they could even begin. "Anything more said on the subject will see the two of you as partners for the remainder of your time under my tutelage. Am I understood, gentlemen?"
Wearing their disapproval plainly upon their faces, James and Severus gave curt nods that they understood. It would have only served to further infuriate the two to know just how in sync their silent responses were, how similar the dark haired teens appeared in that brief moment.
"Miss Evans," Slughorn continued, a fondness that hadn't been present when addressing the boys shaping his tone now, "If you'd like, you may join an existing pair for today's assignment, since your original partner is now sharing a cauldron with Mr. Potter. Or, if you would prefer the challenge, you may attempt to brew today's potion on your own. I'll leave the choice in your very capable hands."
Lily spared the now sullen Severus a look of pity, but was interrupted before she could so much as utter a word in response.
"While I'm sure no one here doubts Miss Evans' brewing ability, I, on the other hand, could use all the help I can get." The class turned to find Peter Pettigrew lazily propped up in the doorway of the dungeon, looking to all the world as if he were only a few minutes late to class, whereas, in reality, he'd been missing from Hogwarts all morning.
"Peter!" The Marauders exclaimed in unison, the joy at seeing the return of their fourth member dancing merrily in their eyes. Harry favoured them all with a small smile.
"Mr Pettigrew," Slughorn started in surprise, "How nice of you to grace us with your presence."
Navigating his way through the seated Gryffindors and Slytherins, Harry unceremoniously dropped his bag atop the table Lily alone was occupying, sliding into the seat next to the redhead. "Mind being my partner?"
Eyes as curious as they were guarded, Lily nodded her consent. "As long as you can control yourself and contribute, I'm fine with working with you." Harry agreed, a weary smile playing on his lips.
"Mr Pettigrew," Slughorn called, diverting the class' attention to himself. "I take it from your Housemates' reactions that this is the first time they've laid eyes upon you this morning. I'm afraid for your tardiness, that will be 25 points from Gryffindor."
"Very understandable, sir."
Slughorn nodded. "Very well. Miss Evans, if you would, I'd like for you to go over the Angel's Trumpet Draught with Mr Pettigrew and make him aware of the more commonly-made mistakes which occur when brewing this particular concoction."
"As for the rest of you," Slughorn said, turning his focus upon the room at large, "you may go gather any ingredients you may be lacking from the supply closet. I will be walking amongst you, giving help to those who may require it." Ending his instructions, the whale of a man began manoeuvring amongst the closely arranged desks and the herd of bodies now making their way dutifully to the supply closet.
"Alright Pettigrew, I need you to get us Moonseed Berries, Sea Lavender, Silver Lime leaves, and Hornbeam shavings." Lily ordered without looking away from the flame at the base of their shared cauldron, carefully adjusting it to the exact temperature the draught called for. "When you return we can begin."
Nodding, not that she noticed, Harry started for the supply closet, being sure to take a route that would take him directly by his young sorta-father.
"Wormy," greeted the grinning Potter as his long haired friend approached. "Where have you been? You were gone all night; we've been right worried about your ugly ass!"
"Dealing with pressing family matters," he answered vaguely, nodding to Remus as he came to a stop next to him.
"It's good to have you back." Smiling tiredly up at him, Remus readjusted his hold on the ingredients he had acquired prior to joining them. "Maybe now that you've returned, James will be able to calm down some."
Harry raised an amused eyebrow at the bespectacled teen. "What? Did you forget how to cast the contraceptive charm, again?" he asked, only slightly kidding. Now there had been a memory of Peter's he'd gotten a good laugh from.
"Ass," James grumbled good-naturedly, his features only staying in a pout for a second before a cheeky smirk quickly overtook his face.
"Padfoot and I had to stop Prongs on more than one occasion from coming to hunt you down." Remus shook his head in amusement at their now sheepish looking friend. "Not that he would have been successful in the first place. He's is as bad as they come where tracking spells are concerned. Not that any of the rest of us are much better, mind you."
"I can't help it if my considerable talents lie in different branches of magic," James huffed indignantly. "Tracking magic is troublesome for even the best witch or wizard."
"We all know you need little help getting into trouble, Potter." Severus appeared on the opposite side of the table of Harry and Remus, his face twisted into a sneer that made him look as if he were smelling something particularly foul. "I see you failed to do as I asked and prepare the cauldron's flame."
"Sod off, Snivellus!" James spat nastily, prodding the aforementioned flame angrily.
"Not having another disagreement, are we boys?" Professor Slughorn came to a stop at the head of the two person table, his large belly coming dangerously close to bumping the wooden structure. "It would be unfortunate if I were forced to permanently revoke your right to choose your own potions partner. A punishment, I'm sure, no one would find comfort in."
"Well then, I'm off," chuckled Remus, hastily making his way back to his and Sirius' work area so as not to draw the professor's ire.
"And you, Mr Pettigrew," the potions professor said, turning his bristly, walrus-like moustache in his direction. "Should you not be gathering what you need for Miss Evans?"
"Probably," Harry nodded. Surveying the room and noting that he was the only one who hadn't returned to his seat yet, he saw that it was the perfect time to get the glutton of a man alone. "Professor, would you mind giving me a hand? There are a few questions about the draught I'd like to ask you before we begin."
Looking only slightly taken aback, Horace nodded. Sending the Slytherin and Gryffindor partners a final stern look of warning, he followed the teen out of the room and into his adjoining office. Harry shut the door and quickly cast several privacy charms, then turned to regard the man who'd set Tom Riddle on his way to becoming the nigh-immortal Lord Voldemort. And then withheld vital information about it for decades. It was almost enough for Harry to decide against making his proposal to the greedy Slytherin — almost!
"So what can I do for you, m'boy?"
"I was hoping to ask you something, Professor. You know, privately; one Slug Club member to another ..."
Being attached at the hip to the alpha dogs of your year group sure comes with some useful benefits and contacts eh, King Slug? drawled the Grim.
Bite your tongue, mongrel! snapped the Dormouse. I deserved my spot in the Slug Club far more than that Grim-boy did! Just because I sucked at Transfiguration doesn't mean I'm as dunderheaded as McGonagall thinks!
"Is that so? Well, Mr Pettigrew, you know my door is always open to my special protégés. Especially a brilliant young developing potions master-to-be, such as yourself."
"Very kind of you, Professor," Harry demurred modestly. "I'm nowhere near the league of Evans or Snape."
"But very close," Slughorn assured him. "With the right application of elbow-grease, you could almost match their skill-level; the wizarding world needs all the talented potioneers it can get."
Hah! snorted the Dormouse, 'almost match' he says! Neither Lily nor Snapie ever brewed a Class X necromantic resurrection potion to revive the shade of a Dark Lord to corporeality! How's that for 'genius', Snivellus?!
Who put the arsenic in your teapot, boy? quirked Harry in amusement.
I think he's still a bit steamed by the thought of Snape lording over Pettigrew for years during their Death Nibbler phase, pontificated the Otter absently, as she leafed through another scroll.
Prek! agreed the Owl.
Thinks he's so great at bottling fame and brewing glory, grumbled the Dormouse resentfully, try telling that to a potions master who actually did put a stopper on death!
"Tell me, Professor Slughorn, a man as eminent as yourself must be well-connected to a number of powerful and influential individuals, no?"
A fraction of an inch of self-satisfied smile ghosted across the man's thin lips. Harry could see how the way the man puffed out his chest caused further strain for the poor buttons of his waistcoat. "Correct you are, my boy," he chuckled. What portion of his cheeks not obscured by his bushy facial hair had taken on a boyish, rosy hue. "I can truthfully boast to having had a hand in many a great witch and wizard's prosperous futures. A good number of which, I might add, I still have the ear of to this day. I do hope I can presume to hold your ear once you establish yourself properly in the potions industry yourself, Mr Pettigrew?"
"Without a doubt, sir. Having all those contacts, it must make it easier for you to acquire rare and obscure and, dare I say it, dangerous potions ingredients for your research."
"Indeed, it does. As I'm sure you know, the Ministry is very strict with its regulations. All of which are needed, mind you, but are at times rather restricting and bothersome for those of us who are cut short for time and are in great need of objects and goods of a 'potentially' dangerous nature. My connections allow me to shortcut such laws that are unnecessary for an experienced Potions Master such as I."
"And all because you invited them to a couple of parties," Harry mused.
Slughorn laughed pompously, patting him condescendingly on the shoulder. "Never underestimate the impact of an act of kindness, however small or insignificant it may seem, when most needed. Now, my boy, why don't we cut to brass tacks – what do you want me to procure, and what are you offering in exchange?"
Harry raised his brows.
"Please, Mr Pettigrew, your approach was about as subtle as giant's fist. Do you think this is the first time that a Slug Club member has sought me out to obtain the base components for Firewhisky or love potion or liquid luck?"
"Very well, Professor: to be blunt, I need certain rare and hard-to-find materials. You can move about with an ease that is beyond me. If I were to continually disappear time and again, my friends would notice and make things complicated. I'm offering you a finder's fee and a percentage of each purchase I make."
"I'll have no part in the harm of others, Slug Club member or no," Slughorn declared piously.
"And you won't have to. All you need to do is get me what I require in a timely and discreet fashion. If you can do as much, you can expect the sums in your vault to grow substantially." So saying, he casually dropped a fat pouch onto the desk. The jingle of gold was unmistakable. Pulling a piece of parchment from his robes, Harry handed it to the rotund man.
"These items …" Slughorn murmured, the corners of his lips turning downward into a frown as he scanned the list.
"None of them are prohibited by Ministry regulations," Harry pointed out.
"Even so … difficult. Very difficult to obtain. Plus," the man said slowly, "these are all elements which can be used in rituals."
"Have some history with rituals, do we, Professor?" Harry couldn't restrain a wisp of snark in his tone. Said man blushed, but said nothing in confirmation. "I'll require everything on that list before the first night of the waning gibbous."
Slughorn nearly dropped the parchment. "The waning gibbous!? But the full moon is in five days' time!" he blurted incredulously.
"Which leaves you with six full days to do everything that is needed. If it's too much for you and your connections, tell me now. Though it will be inconvenient, I can get what I need through other channels, like the goblins. The question you have to ask yourself is: how badly do you want my gold?"
Slughorn was torn between greed and wariness. Harry watched the struggle play back and forth across the man's face.
For somebody who likes to lecture others about subtlety, he's remarkably blatant with his own emotions, sneered Nagini.
"I insist that you to swear a magically-binding oath that nothing I may provide for you will be used for harming others. I cannot make an exception based on our close affiliation," Slughorn said firmly. "Otherwise you'll have to search out some other supplier."
"A sensible precaution," Harry agreed. "One can't be too careful in these troubled times." He gave the requisite magical oath, and the Professor almost sighed in relief as he drew his downpayment of gold tenderly to his bosom.
Pshaw! When has that man ever been sensible or cautious? demanded the Grim.
What do you mean? chirped the Otter curiously.
I meant the ever-so-Slytherin-among-Slytherins Professor hasn't a lick of caution in his body, pre- or not! Not when money, fame and connections are involved at least, explained the Grim. Look at his 'illustrious' record. Talking about horcrux black magic to a student; recruiting random nobodies like Ginny Weasley to his little Club; going walkabout with a student after curfew to collect restricted potions ingredients; handing over life-and-death memories to you just because you got him drunk and filled his pockets with Acromantula venom gold! It's amazing he outlived Dumbledore!
Oi, that's my girlfriend you're talking about! Harry objected.
Well, from his perspective she was a nobody, the Grim shrugged. And worse, a poverty-stricken nobody. Honestly, playing favourites with a nobody just because she's got a vicious hex and right hook!
Sounds like the way Sirius was recruited, snarked the Dormouse.
Ignoring his rival's jab, the Grim eyed the other redheaded female of their acquaintance as they left Slughorn's Office and returned to their desk. Wonder what he did to drive Lily away from potions and into Flitwick's and Charms' arms? he mused. 10 to 1 it was for being a creepy bastard who'll do anything for anyone for a galleon.
Speak of the devil, what's she done to put these two jokers on edge? inquired the Otter.
Harry noticed both Severus and James giving the hard-at-work Lily baffled looks.
"Sorry for taking so long, the Professor and I were talking and we lost track of time," he apologised to his partner. Setting his potions supplies to the side, he pulled the Moonseed in front of him and began crushing the cherry-like berries, draining them of the needed juices the draught called for. Her silence was unbroken since his arrival. Harry couldn't help but feel as if the redhead next to him was purposely avoiding looking in his direction.
"The Silver Lime, please."
Pausing in his motions, he placed the mint looking leaves into her hand. "Did I somehow manage to piss you off?" he asked, noting that she still refused to look his way.
"No," she answered, her response coming far too quickly to be convincing. Crumbling the leaves into the cauldron, she sent him a strained smile that failed to reach her brilliantly expressive eyes.
What was that fake smile about? he wondered as he went back to extracting juice from the berries.
"Why were you absent this morning?" she asked abruptly, surprising him by breaking the silence that had fallen once more.
"Family business," he answered, deciding to stick to vague, yet truthful answers for the time being. There was no sense in telling long winded lies, which could possibly come back to bite him in the ass, when short, honest answers, which didn't reveal any real information, would be more than adequate.
"Are your parents alright?" she inquired, a touch of unidentifiable emotion entering her voice as she paused in her work to give him a concerned look.
"Last time I checked," he confirmed. "Hard to tell sometimes, them being on the other side of the world." Lily frowned at his words.
"Then why were you needed at home?" she pressed, trying and failing to not sound overly curious.
Harry spared her a small glance before going back to his work. Great, a gossip hound, just what I need. Since when did queen bee Lily Evans, the darling of Hogwarts, ever care about insignificant little Peter Pettigrew? Trying to lighten the mood and defuse the cornered feeling he was getting, he joked, "They called me home for our annual sacrifice."
Lily stopped what she was doing to turn her wide, startled eyes upon him. "Sacrifice?"
"Yeah," he answered with false seriousness. "Each month we must dance naked beneath the full moon, bathing in the blood of a virgin goat in order to appease the Night Mother." His mischievous joy, however, was to be short lived. Unaware of how the red berry juice staining his hand closely resembled blood, he glanced over at his partner to see her naturally pale skin had become startlingly more so, surpassing the point of simply looking sickly and progressing to what one would expect of a character out of a Bram Stoker novel. He blanched at the look of horrified disbelief marring her natural beauty, never once considering how sinister he appeared with the scarlet fluid gracing his hands.
"It was a joke, Lily." he quickly reassured her, giving a nervous look around the room to assure they weren't drawing any unwanted attention to themselves. "I promise that all forms of virgin livestock are safe around me."
Lily scowled, fighting against the embarrassed flush which threatened to overtake the entirety of her visage. "That's a first then, isn't it?" she snapped, making a point to turn her back to him as she returned to their assignment.
"What's a first?" Harry asked, more than a little confused by her odd behaviour.
"She's referring to the rumours that you get your jollies by performing inappropriate charms on goats." From the desk in front of them, Alice McKinnon had twisted around to grin cheekily at him. She and her lab partner Marlene broke into a fit a girlish giggles, both having obviously overheard Lily's sharp retort.
"What the hell?!" Harry hissed, now completely baffled by his mother's seemingly random bout of hostility. Stepping in close to her, forcing himself not to think about the pleasant warmth being in such close proximity to her resulted in, he spoke softly but urgently, attempting not to feed the eavesdroppers at the table before them with any juicy bits of gossip they were looking for. "Be careful about what you say! You'll make people think I'm a –"
"Man-slag?" she supplied unhelpfully, not bothering to turn from the bubbling contents of their cauldron to insult him.
"No, not a bloody man-slag — a livestock shagger!" In his annoyance, Harry spoke louder than he had meant to and was rewarded with the entire class turning to look at him with expressions that would be appropriate indicate head was gradually self-transfiguring into a Mimbulus mimbletona. It was abundantly clear that they all had overheard.
"Mr Pettigrew," Slughorn began over the barely contained snickers and giggles of his students, "is there something that the class or I should be made aware of?"
"No, sir." Harry blushed.
"Are you in need of help then?"
"No Professor, I'm fine."
"Then if you would be so kind, please refrain from causing anymore disturbances during my class."
"Sorry, Professor." he apologised, catching sight of Lily's self-satisfied smirk as he did. Deciding that it would be best not to say anything else that might set the testy redhead off, Harry spent the remainder of the lesson in silence. As they worked in silence, he pondered what it was that was causing her to act so hostile toward him.
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"Anything I can get for you, mate?"
Harry, along with James and Sirius, dejectedly watched as the fourth member of their group desperately binged himself on anything within reaching distance, whilst trying to preserve some semblance of his normal decorum and dignity.
Remus pulled himself from his overflowing plate, loaded with pink and juicy, rare cooked meats the Hogwarts' house-elves continued to replenish every time the youth made progress with what he had. Furiously wiping at his face, he attempted to fight off the unavoidable blush burning his cheeks.
"Thank you, but no," he whispered, as if someone nearby would overhear him and know what he was by the animalistic way he was gorging himself. It was the same paranoid fear that always got the better of him this time of month, even though no one could hear or see him through the wards they had erected around their small group — that they always put into place on nights like these. Nights when Remus would disappear into the evening's fading light with Madame Valentine or Professor McGonagall. Nights of the full moon.
Avoiding meeting their eyes, as if doing so would make them judge him for the monster he knew himself to be despite their many reassurances to the contrary, Remus pulled a large bowl of mashed potatoes toward him. "The more hardy foods I consume now, the easier the … change will be." he explained for what could very well be the thousandth time.
Harry shook his head, watching as his friend somehow found space on his crowded plate for more than half the bowl of thick, cloud-looking vegetables. He hoped the little 'gift', he'd convinced the kitchen elves to add to Remus' repast, would help his friend. He watched on in silent amusement as James purloined a larger than what would have been deemed 'polite' bite of poultry, only to pale once he realised just how under-cooked the meat was. It was a mistake they all had made on occasion, one which never failed to earn, at the very least, a small round of chuckles.
"It's getting late," Remus sighed, sending a look of disgust at the still replenishing plate, pushing it as far away from him as possible to indicate that he was done. "I suspect Professor McGonagall is waiting for me."
"We'll meet you in the usual clearing in an hour, Moony," James murmured in an undertone. The others nodded in agreement.
Leading the group into the Entrance Hall, they were just beginning to climb the Grand Staircase when Harry suddenly felt as if he were being watched. Slowing only slightly, he pretended to laugh at the joke James was telling in an attempt to cheer Remus up. Using his ruse as an opportunity to peer around the hall for whomever it was that was spying on him, it didn't take him long to locate the group's stalker. Smiling wolfishly, Harry threw his arm around Remus' shoulder. "Come on, man, cheer up! You never know when some beauty is going to be looking your way."
Remus smiled weakly down at him. "I'll be sure and remember that."
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"I'm going to kill every blasted bird within a hundred miles if someone doesn't shut that bloody tapping up!" Kicking the cover restricting his movements to the floor, exposing his almost completely bare form, Harry pulled his pillow over his head, attempting to reclaim the rapidly vanishing dregs of sleep before they became impossible to return to. They'd been up until the wee hours of the morn gambolling through the Forbidden Forest. The biggest down side of their explorations was always the day after.
"I'll get it," moaned an equally tired voice from the opposite side of the dorm. Sleep deprived and delirious, Harry's addled mind sluggishly connected the raspy tone to the second-largest of his dorm mates.
"Mhhmm, Lily …"
"Shut it, you horny bastard!" Harry snapped impatiently. He really really didn't need to be hearing that.
"Really, Prongs," Sirius chided, throwing a blurry eyed look of disbelief at the dreaming Potter. "She should really see to getting a magically binding restraining order against you, mate. You're freaking obsessed!"
"I'm going to add male Gryffindors to my hit-list if I don't get some quiet!" Harry groused, his voice muffled by his pillow.
Rolling his eyes at the threat, Sirius unlatched the aged pane glass window, throwing it open with little regard for the animal that had woken them. Before he could try to untie the letter on what he instantly recognised as one of the Potter owls, the large, tawny avian had crossed the length of the dorm with a few minor flaps of its impressive wings.
Landing on James' sternum, the owl peered inquisitively down at his slumbering master with dark, intelligent eyes. It didn't take the creature long to grow annoyed by its young master's failure to acknowledge its accomplishment in completing its duty so superbly. With small awkward hops forward, attempting to maintain its footing with the wide envelope fastened to its leg, it gave a small bark of annoyance in an attempt to rouse the slumbering teen. Seeing no immediate change in James' peaceful features, the impatient creature gave what a curiously watching Sirius could only describe as a sigh of contempt, before it reached forward with its sharp beak and viciously tore into the boy's slightly parted lips, only just missing taking a chunk out of his tongue in the process.
"GAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Shoulders shaking in not so silent laughter, Sirius watched in great amusement as his glasses-wearing friend vigorously thrashed about, screaming in agony. The owl, which had been launched from James' chest, landed gracefully upon the edge of his four-poster bed, sending the wildly flailing teen a reproachful glare.
"Morgana's bushy nostril-hairs," Harry huffed, rolling out of bed. "Wailing like a bloody banshee." Boxers riding dangerously low on his hips, he ambled his way toward their private showers, only slowing in his frustrated trek to throw his pillow as hard as he could at James' grimacing face.
Snorting, Sirius turned back to the only other boy in the room at that point in time, only to find the messy haired teen to be having a glaring contest with his owl. It took the Grim animagus only a second to spot the thin trail of blood running down the Potter's chin.
"Blasted bird," James sneered, gingerly running his tongue over his injured lip. "I hope you end up as Hippogriff shite." Grabbing his wand, he flicked it at the offending owl, untying and summoning the letter with the single motion. He only just restrained himself from hexing the beast as it took off for the open window, leaving behind a warm 'present' on his sheets. "If only my Mum wouldn't kill me for her owl showing up without any tail-feathers … or a head."
James carelessly opened the thick envelope, ripping the wax seal bearing the Potter coat of arms from the back with the reckless abandon only a partially awake teen could accomplish. Steadily, as his gaze travelled over the expensive ink atop the equally expensive parchment, James' eyes grew more anxious and his posture more rigid. It wasn't until a rather tired-looking Peter and Sirius exited the showers that James looked away from his father's message. "Guys, take a look at this." James waved the parchment about. "Tell me what you think."
Falling bonelessly onto his bed, Harry listened to James read the letter out loud and was chagrined, though unsurprised to learn the contents. Fleamont Potter had written to his only son to explain that a somewhat troubling situation had developed within the Potter family. He warned that there may be major, or even minor for that matter, changes coming their way. The former Head of the Potters wouldn't go into detail, for as he said in the letter the chance of it being intercepted was too great to risk it. He did, however, tell James not to worry about any of it, and to focus on his schooling and enjoying his time with his friends, that he had only written him to prepare him should any 'drastic' changes take place between then and Christmas. All in all, a thoroughly unhelpful and infuriating missive for the Potter Heir.
"You think I should write back and ask for more details about what's happening? Or maybe even go see him?"
Harry shook his head, sending his wet and tangled locks to hang in his face. "From what he wrote, there's no chance of him writing anything more on the subject than what he's already sent."
"Yeah, but…" James trailed off, looking unsure as to what to say or do.
"If you're really that worried about it, why not write back and ask him to meet with you? Our first Hogsmeade weekend is in two weeks, get him to meet you then," Sirius suggested. "Or better yet, ask if it'd be okay for you to Floo home at that time. I doubt they'd refuse that."
"You're right," James agreed pensively. Giving his head a small shake to rid himself of turbulent thoughts, he looked to his best friend, intent on telling him to give him a minute to get ready, but stopped when he saw Sirius pulling on a pair of warn-from-age-and-devoted-reuse sleeping pants.
"Aren't you going to get dressed for class before we go down to breakfast?"
"I'm not going to breakfast," Sirius announced, grabbing the sheets he had kicked to the floor earlier as he crawled into his bed. "I'm not even going to class."
"You're skiving the entire day?" James asked, adjusting his glasses more out of habit than necessity. Even from what little he could see of his best mate's features, most of which were obscured by the sheets he had pulled haphazardly over himself, it was clear to see that Sirius was exhausted. "You won't miss more than two periods before Minnie's up here lecturing you on how 'proper and respectable' Gryffindors should conduct themselves."
"Probably." Groaning childishly at the sun streaming through the dorm's only window, Sirius pulled the thin sheets draped across him over his head, too tired to cast a shading charm on the window. "I'm knackered. I need a 'me-day.'"
James rolled out of his bed, pillow in hand as he made his way over to his friend's unmoving form. "Here you are then," he said with a smile in his voice, tossing the pillow onto his chest. "I'll try and throw McG off your trail when she comes searching for why you weren't in class." Taking his wand, he pointed the 11 inches of pliant mahogany at the window, silently transfiguring the clarity of the glass to a much darker, tinted shade.
Giving a tired yawn that made his eyes water, Sirius snaked his hand out from under his covers, quickly pulling the pillow into his personal sanctuary. "Thanks, mate."
James waved his hand dismissively, aware as he did so that the gesture would go unnoticed by its intended recipient. "No need to mention it. We're mates. Lying for one another is in the job description."
By the time James finished his own shower, washed and feeling moderately more awake, Harry was lounged across his bed, his uniform wrinkling as a result, while Sirius was still buried under a mantle of blankets, snoring obnoxiously. More surprising, however, was the fourth Marauder's presence. Remus sat atop his bed, fully clothed and surrounded by what could have passed for a makeshift wall, but what was in reality a large number of books that the young werewolf had collected from the Library before arriving.
"Remus! You're up and about!" Normally, the mornings after his transformation, Remus would be left in great amounts of pain, his body unable to move without making said pain worse. This morning, contradictory to all past experience, he was up, appearing to have been so for some time, rapidly flipping through and scanning each of the books that surrounded him.
"Bit early to begin obsessing over your homework, don't you think?"
"It's not homework," Remus answered vaguely, not bothering with looking up from his book.
James came to a stop at the foot of his bed, picking up a few of the books strewn about around him. "'Fantastical Beasts of the Forbidden Forest and Where to Find Them', 'Secrets of Werewolves, Wyverns and Wendigo', 'Extinct, Fabled and Rare Beings of the Scotland Isles'." As he listed off the different titles of the tomes he had picked up, James' eyebrows rose progressively higher.
"Got an itch you're needing scratched?"
Remus paused in his reading, looking up from the tomes he was quickly realising were utter rubbish. Useless, the lot of them! Not even a hint that could explain the bizarrely peaceful and pain-free transformation of yesternight. The red mist hadn't even descended over his consciousness! It was clear the answers he sought could only be found from an expert. But where could he find a werewolf expert around here? "I need to find someone," he announced.
"Don't we all?" sighed James.
"That's not what I meant."
.