2. Remove the leaf at the full moon and place it, steeped in your saliva, in a small crystal phial that receives the pure rays of the moon (if the night is cloudy, you will have to find a new Mandrake leaf and begin the whole process again).

• • •

"Moon's full tonight," said Remus. "So, er—I'm going after Charms. I'll see you lot on Saturday."

"Oh, we know," said Sirius sardonically. "Believe ush, we know."

Remus gave him an odd look.

"Shiriush only meansh dat he hopesh Mulshiber'sh cursh wearsh off when de moon goesh up," said James quickly. "Madam Pomfrey said it might. Shinesh Shomping Cabbadshesh are shenshitive to de lunar shycle."

"Well," said Remus, wearily taking a forkful of the cottage pie none of the rest of them could eat. "It would be nice if one good thing came of the moon going up."

• • •

Remus' lunascope (stashed under his bed, under a pile of robes he'd outgrown) told them that the moon would rise at 7:30 that evening. The Animagus books had explained that nobody had yet discovered exactly how much moonlight the Mandrake leaves needed, as there were so few Animagi to do studies on. Therefore, they all agreed that the best thing to do was to keep it under the moon all night. They'd sneak out just after dinner, and stay there until dawn.

There was also the matter of clouds, which had kept James up nights when the Mandrake's increasingly poky stem hadn't. Hogwarts was in northern Scotland, quite possibly the cloudiest place on earth. The thought that they could miss out on a pure stream of moonlight, and have to carry Mandrakes around in their mouths for another month, just because of the stupid weather, was an absolutely terrifying one.

"If it happens, we'll leave school and move to Mallorca until Christmas," Sirius had said fiercely, when they'd first discovered this possible hitch in the plan. "We won't have to talk to anyone, and we can lie on the beach for hours every day. We'll be in such luxury we won't even remember we have leaves in our mouths."

"But Remus will be alone," said Peter.

"Obviously Remus will come with us," said Sirius. "He deserves luxury just as much as the rest of us. We'll find him a nice private beach for the moon. No more shacks."

As nice as this sounded, James couldn't help hoping that the Mandrake leaves worked the first time.

They spent all day on edge. Professor Flitwick snapped at them several times for staring out the window instead of paying attention to their spellwork. The sky was the kind that could go either way, James thought. Some cloud wisps were making their way across the sky, but none so thick that they couldn't see the sunshine flooding through them. All he could do was cross his fingers and hope.

Thankfully, by the end of dinner, the sky seemed unchanged, so they ran upstairs to their dormitory, tearing through their trunks for the crystal phials they had bought in Diagon Alley two summers ago.

Gregory Cotton, their fifth roommate, who had seemed to find all four of them exasperating from the moment they were Sorted, looked up from his books curiously. "Remus gone again, then?" he said.

"His parentsh run a rabbit farm; what do you exshpect?" said James. It was difficult to keep a straight face with the Mandrake jabbing him in the gums, but he managed as best he could. "Do you know how many disheashesh rabbitsh carry? Hish mum'sh really ill this time; the Healersh aren't sure she'll ever be the same."

"He never looks healthy when he comes back, either," Gregory pointed out. "You'd think they'd have switched careers by now, from the toll it seems to take on all of them."

"Rabbitsh are deir passion," said Sirius staunchly. "Well, not Remush sho mush, but hish parentsh are obsheshed. Pilesh of rabbit poo all over the houshe. Dey shink it shmellsh nishe. Like a lovely walk in the foresht."

Gregory shuddered and returned to his reading.

They threw the Cloak on in the narrow corridor between the girls' and boys' dormitories, and huddled together until they reached the agreed-upon spot behind Hagrid's hut. Once arrived, they let the Cloak fall to the ground so they could take stock of their supplies. The moon wasn't due to rise for another five minutes, so they kept the Mandrake leaves in their mouth while they gathered the crystal phials, a corked bottle of dew, three silver teaspoons Sirius had stolen from his mother's antiques cabinet, and a package of Death's-head Hawk Moth chrysalises.

"One minute," said James, looking down at his watch. "Fifty shecondsh…"

They waited. It was a chilly night; winter was clearly on its way. James wished he had brought a heavier cloak, but it was too late now.

"Twenty shecondsh… ten… nine… eight…"

A terrible noise echoed out from somewhere in the distance. It sounded as if something—not a bear, not a wolf, certainly not a person—was trying its best to rip itself in half, and yet was in unbearable agony despite its intentions. It was followed by a sound that wasn't quite a sob, and then a scream that sounded more like a half-silent cough. James sank to his knees without realizing what he was doing, his stomach suddenly full of something cold and desperate.

"What was that?" said Sirius, his eyes huge. He had taken his Mandrake leaf out of his mouth and was stuffing it into his crystal phial, but his attention wasn't on his work.

James spat his own Mandrake leaf into his phial, so that the stem landed at the bottom of the container. His feeling that it had doubled in size while inside his mouth had turned out to be correct: he had to fold it over four times to even attempt to get it into the phial. It had also gone a strange leathery texture, like the skins of some reptiles. James wondered if he was destined to become a lizard.

The noise came again, but this time it had changed. This time, James knew without a shadow of a doubt what it was. The chill in his stomach froze another degree.

"Remus, I think," he said quietly.

Peter looked as if he was going to be sick. His fingers stumbled on the edge of his phial, and his leaf almost flew out. "That was Remus?" he whispered. "But that was—that was—"

"Horrible," said James heavily. "I know."

Sirius didn't say a word; instead, he merely stared at the direction the sound had come from. His face tightened as another unearthly howl broke the evening air.

"Fuck Mallorca," he said, pushing so hard on his Mandrake leaf that the whole thing slid into his phial with a small pop. "We've got to get this done now."