Magic Marauding
The shack appeared even more shabby and full of dust particles than usual when Remus woke up in it during the early hours of a full moon night's morning. It was the last day of exam week and although the pain on his scratched belly's skin was still unbearable, the first thing Remus remembered when waking from the deep, dreamless sleep caused by the monthly transformation was that there was still one exam to go. Muggle Studies.
Next to him, the old and battered living-room table was lit by incoming rays of sun from the window. Remus used the worn piece of furniture to pull himself in an upright position. His legs were still a bit shaky, but there was something else. Something he had never before perceived after a full moon's transformation night: the sensation of not being alone in this.
With a little groan, another shape nearby shifted and made the young werewolf jump in surprise. Had the professor not left after all last night? Had she returned to see how he was? To see him, naked and shivering, in the desolate state he tended to be in when he awoke in the morning?
The shape shifted some more and then, suddenly, jumped to its feet. It was a dog, larger than any Remus had ever seen, pitch black, with a lengthy snout and a bushy tail. Remus blinked, twice, and than sat down in the armchair directly behind him, watching the animal with increasing interest and without further apprehension.
"Sirius," he whispered. "It's you, isn't it?"
The dog's snout shortened and then vanished. Bit by bit, the dog's furry shape revolved into something human-like, and eventually assumed the familiar appearance of the young pureblood, who grinned broadly at his ragged-looking friend and then got up entirely, swaying a little as he did.
"Cool, hu?"
"You made it," whispered Remus, unable to take his eyes off his friend. "You can transform at will now."
"And so can the others," replied Sirius carelessly. "We've increased our practice since that time... since Christmas. Wanted to surprise you. We've all got our shape now."
"Even Peter?"
A groan from behind the grand piano made the two boys turn, one in surprise, the other with a renewed grin on his handsome face.
"Wormtail," he said loudly to the shape now crawling out from under the three-legged instrument, "you're naked again."
"Can't help it," scowled the smaller boy, both hands folded apprehensively to cover what little dignity was left to him. "Rats look that way."
"Young ones do," prompted the Black. "If you'd only do as Prongs told you and thought of a furry one..."
"Prongs?" interrupted Remus, with interest.
"You'll never believe it," replied Sirius. "Boy, oh boy. He's still same old James, but when he's transformed..."
"What kind of animal..."
"He's a stag," squeaked Peter, looking around for his wand and finding it inches away from the piano's left pedal. "Huge, I tell you. That's why he doesn't fit through the tunnel."
"Good," said Remus firmly. "Neither should you. I wish you had turned into bigger animals. It's too dangerous for you to be with me in here..."
"Don't be ridiculous!" retorted Sirius impatiently. "We're animals. You were all happy and fluffy last night. Werewolves might attack humans, but you won't believe how nice they can be towards dogs..."
He broke off, realising that this sounded all wrong.
"Anyway," he said quickly, "we'll keep you company, whether you want it or not. Can't help it, can you? We'll just slip in – keep you from scratching yourself. Did you even notice you don't look half as bad as usually? Oh, right," he then added, following Remus's gaze to the big scratch across his chest, "that one was there before we arrived last night. Sorry about that. We seriously tried to get Prongs through the hole under the Whomping Willow. You gotta see those antlers..."
"I understand that," said Remus quietly. "But... are you sure you aren't flopping back and forth by accident? None of you?" He eyed Peter with some apprehension.
"Absolutely," said the smaller boy. Having summoned himself a set of robes, he looked much less pathetic than before. Remus hesitated for a moment, and then decided that they had underestimated Peter before. Perhaps everything was going to be all right after all.
"Pity Jam– Prongs couldn't come," he mumbled. "He'll hate to have missed all the fun."
"Well, we can tell him," shrugged Sirius, obviously unconcerned. Remus frowned.
"You aren't usually that cheerful when he isn't with you."
"Let's just say I am sure we'll find a way of getting you two together in due time," replied his friend, grinning broadly again. "For now, though, all we have to worry about is gaining enough house points to overtake Slytherin and grab whatever prize there is going to be for whichever house wins. I checked the hourglasses last night. They're still in the lead. By twenty-six points."
"However did they get so many of them in such a short time?" Remus wondered.
"They got tons," Sirius growled. "Fumes seems to be distributing them at random – never to Gryffindors, though. And McGongall has been known to take points off her own house if she thinks it just. Bloody chivalry. I wish I was in the house that only serves its own interests."
"Don't be ridiculous!" gasped Peter. "You don't wanna be a Slytherin."
"Or a Ravenclaw," prompted Remus. "They are pretty self-centred."
"And Hufflepuffs are dumb," Sirius mused. "Hm. There really isn't a house like Gryffindor, is there? All that's good about people – is us."
"And all the idiots get sorted into Slytherin," said Peter happily. "I read about it in the Daily Prophet the other day. Did you see the article that said all the Knights were Slytherins or former Slytherins?"
"I seem to remember it said Marius Malfoy was up in arms against the editors," Sirius replied thoughtfully. "I mean, he sort of has a point. If someone said 'all Gryffindors always end up kidnapping and torturing fellow witches and wizards', I'd be pissed, too, no matter what it actually was supposed to end up as."
"It's really unusual, isn't it?" Peter mumbled. "Them going against our own kind, I mean?"
"It's more than unusual," replied Sirius darkly. "It's been decades since people have consciously planned and executed an attack on our own kind. Usually, it's always just us against the Muggles. That's why no one was worried when those Knights blew up that train station last spring. Many thought it was funny even. It was only when they learned that the Knights had started targeting wizards that there was an uproar."
"Yes, and because of Remus's transformation down in the dung-" Peter contributed, but then stopped when seeing the look on the young werewolf's face.
"And yet, most of them were fined and then let off," Sirius growled, apparently unaware that the room's temperature appeared to have dropped by two or three degrees just now.
"Is it true that most of the Knights weren't convicted?" Remus asked tensely, suddenly getting up to gather some of his robes and taking some of the chairs back to their original place. "I hear only two or three were convicted at all."
"They don't have a plaintiff's claim," said Sirius seriously. "The law is such that underage wizards can't accuse anyone of anything, whether there be proof or not. And none of the grown-ups saw enough, apparently, to accuse individual people of actual deeds. Besides, some of them got pretty rich parents. Who knows how many Galleons were exchanged during those trials. Believe me, if I were Minister for Magic..."
"Meaning they'll all go free again?" Remus whispered.
"Some already returned home," Sirius said quietly. "I'm sorry. I know you would have liked to see them locked up forever."
"Aw, no..." Remus said vaguely, but deep inside he feared that Sirius had a point.
"Talking of the Daily Prophet," Sirius said suddenly, "did you see that picture of your parents, Remus? Your dad must be the first Muggle on the front page in what... at least six or seven months."
The young werewolf frowned.
"My parents? Both of them?"
"Yeah," replied Sirius, scratching his head. "Something about Rodney Robertson speaking up in a trial against someone else, lots of mixed up stuff I wasn't really interested in. But essentially, I think, the article was about the army admitting they made a mistake about the werewolf who bit you. The actual culprit's called Fenrir Greyback, apparently. There was a picture of him and an interview with your parents and all, but it was pretty long, so I didn't read all of it. I put it on your bed, though, in case you hadn't seen it."
"Oh," said Remus, thoroughly astonished. "I... I hadn't heard. Funnily enough. Er... thank you. That was very thoughtful."
"Right, anyone else getting really hungry?" Peter asked tentatively. He had been rather quiet the whole time and not very attentive, Remus presumed. Peter's thoughts tended to wander off during a conversation that lasted longer than a few minutes. "Breakfast will be ready in a bit," added Peter nervously, twiddling his fingers behind his back. "And I, for one, feel as though I've run around all night..."
The other two boys nodded and Sirius jumped towards the exit, changing shape in mid-movement. His friends stared in awe.
The dog barked, high-spirited, and gave a small nod towards the door, vanishing in the direction of the tunnel that would lead them back to the Hogwarts grounds. Moments later, his friends followed.
At the same time, several yards away from the spot where the Whomping Willow guarded the entrance to a certain tunnel, a boy wandered aimlessly between the bushes and the few trees that marked the barrier towards an area that was out of bounds to all Hogwarts students.
Severus has spent so much time out of bounds this year that he had no great desire to be found guilty of breaking yet another school rule, and yet, something behind the bushes had picked his curiosity. A shape, about the size of a large animal, was lying in the shadows, half-hidden, but not as carefully as it should have been. It was asleep, which was another thing that puzzled the small Slytherin, and when he finally found the courage to approach, he could hear distinct snoring from the stag's lengthy nostrils.
He took another two steps towards the stag, inclined his head, and stretched out his hand, at a snail's pace, still wondering if he should dare touch the wondrous animal when his skin was already brushing the soft, brown fur behind its ears.
James awoke with a start.
He blinked, shook his head slightly, blinked again, and tried to rub his eyes – but his hands and fingers were gone and it took him a full minute to understand why. The unpleasant shape of Severus Snape directly in front of his eyes did not do much to improve his sensation of confusion and repulsion. The unfamiliar sensation of being caressed behind his ears by this very person seemed too much to bear on a peaceful Friday morning. He started to get up.
"Don't run off," whispered Severus. "I want to know where you came from."
James held his breath for a second, weighing his options against each other, and then opted for the most tempting one. He inclined his head, playing his role, and lowered himself to the same spot where he had previously slept. Snape's ugly face turned into a smile.
"I should have met you last night," he mumbled, resuming his stroking. (James flinched, but did not pull away.) "McGonagall would never have caught me then."
Silence. Stags couldn't answer, of course, and James refused to give himself away for the mere fun of seeing Snape's face if he did.
"She'll talk to father, you know," Snape informed the stag. "Bout the running away business – but not to get me into trouble. She wants to make things right again. Wants to protect me."
James raised his head again, curious to see the fear in Snape's face that unfailingly appeared there whenever he talked about his father – and frowned. The Slytherin's expression was contorted with rage.
"It is all your fault!" he said, his eyes fixed on James. "No one else's! You were the one who broke the school rules in the first place!"
The stag stared. There was no way Snape could have recognised him. For a fleeting moment, he considered whether this was going too far and whether running off might not have been the better of the two choices just now, but Snape continued speaking and he eventually decided that whatever the other boy was playing at was too interesting to miss a word.
"You ran off!" Snape informed the stag, his expression still dark and contemptuous. "You defied him. You thought you could get by without any help."
"But she is not helping me," whispered Severus Snape as James new him. The stag felt his jaw drop in surprise. A few feet away from where Snape was standing, against the white morning sky, the silhouette of a boy was forming. A tall boy with black hair, a long, slightly hooked nose, wearing a set of new, black school robes, who wore his hair tied neatly into a pony-tail. James was tempted to jump up, thinking he recognised Sirius at first, but then realised that this was impossible. That Snape would not be talking to the young Black the way he did now.
For a moment, all three, the stag, the Snape, and the other boy, stood motionlessly, facing each other with intense curiosity, then the strange boy spoke.
"You thought that if you got rid of me, you could just start breaking the rules," he told Snape, who recoiled at every word directed at him. "You thought you were going to be able to do whatever you want, but I tell you that whatever you do, your misdeeds will just add up. You realise, of course, that you are already in for another trip to the office, do you not? You realise that it is just getting worse with every step you take?"
"But, I..." There was hardly a coherent word to be got out of Snape now, James realised. The other boy, whoever he was, seemed satisfied at this and continued his game.
"You thought just right when you messed up the exam," he told the shaking boy in front of him. "There WILL be a retribution. You did bring this onto yourself. Why didn't you study more? Why didn't you concentrate?"
"I... couldn't..." Snape said weakly, sinking to his knees. "Please, don't tell him. Don't... you don't have to tell him everything, do you...?"
"No. Lies!" hissed the other boy. "How dare you suggest not to answer truthfully if he enquires. How dare you even think about deception? He will know. He always knows!"
James was suddenly reminded of a cat and a mouse. The cat was playing and all the mouse could do was react until its tiny heart stopped. Snape was no mouse (he was far too ugly for that) but he was certainly trapped and some things were too bad to be just watching them. A true Gryffindor would act now, he told himself, deciding that it was time to change.
At that moment, however, another shape appeared, several feet away on the path that led towards the castle. A man in lilac robes and buckled shoes with a fancy wizarding hat on his head, whose white beard was tucked into his belt, appeared out of nothingness and approached the three boys (or two, bearing in mind that James was still in his stag shape) in a swift step.
"Who 'knows'?" he asked calmly, his clear, blue gaze directed at the strange boy next to Snape. The boy glared.
"My father," he said, clearly thinking that Dumbledore must know whom he was talking about. The older wizard raised his eyebrows and pushed his half-moon spectacles to the tip of his nose with his left hand. James realised with a jolt of excitement that he was holding his wand with the other. This was going to be good.
"Your father knows only what you tell him, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly, still focussing on the other boy. James was confused.
"B-b-but I have to tell him," Snape whispered from his position on the damp floor. "Or he'll think I was lying..."
"He'll think there was nothing to tell," said Dumbledore softly, his eyes fixed on the other boy. "Your father is not a Legilimens, Severus."
"He knows," Snape whispered.
"Everything," the other boy confirmed. James suddenly realised that they were talking about the same person. He also realised that this was very likely not because they were brothers.
"The fact that you know these things, Severus, does not mean that your father does," said the headmaster. "You must realise that the images you started seeing in other people's heads are not accessible to your father, or many other people, for that matter. Your father told you to tell the truth, and I approve of that, but you can still lie if it serves your best interest. Particularly if it serves your bodily health."
Something in Snape's brain seemed to snap. James saw him straighten up, just a little, although he was still sitting flat on his backside in the grass. "You... McGonagall told you... but she promised..." he whispered.
"Professor McGonagall broke no promise," replied the headmaster, holding out a hand to the boy to pull him up. "But like you, Severus, I am in the happy position of knowing a little more about people than they usually expect. Though not as naturally gifted as you, I spent a great deal of my time delving into the subject of Legilimency, as, I am sure, have you by now."
Snape nodded, slowly, maintaining an air of cautious curiosity. Dumbledore threw an earnest look at the other boy, who crossed his arms and glared at him with unconcealed dislike.
"How do you know what other people are thinking, Severus?" asked the headmaster softly, without a trace of accusation in his tone.
"I-it depends, si-sir," Snape whispered. "I sometimes see... just see things. Skein tells me where to look. A-and sometimes I don't see – then he tells me."
There was a small pause. James struggled to trust his ears and eyes. Snape, a Legilimens? Of all worthless and untalented people, this boy could see other people's thoughts?
"What is Skein, Severus?" the headmaster finally asked, folding his hands in front of his body. The boy frowned, throwing a nervous look at the other boy.
"He... he's my frie-friend, sir." His voice was still shaking.
"You misunderstand me," said Dumbledore politely. "I did not enquirewho he was, but what."
Snape looked puzzled.
The older wizard watched him for a while, apparently waiting. Then, when there was no indication that Snape was ever going to come up with an answer, he asked, still in the same soft, enquiring manner, "Where does the name 'Skein' come from, Severus?"
Another silence suggested that the boy still did not know the answer to the headmaster's questions. Then, however, when James would have long given up the wait, Snape spoke again in barely more than a whisper.
"When I was small... really small... my mother used to call us that. P-Puffskein..."
"Used to call whom?" the headmaster asked.
Another pause.
"Me," Snape eventually volunteered. "A-and..."
"And everything about you," the headmaster helped. "Even at that time, your natural ability to perform Legilimency was already part of you. Merlin," he then mumbled, as though realising something for the first time, "I'll be curious to know how well you do at Occlumency if you had this much control over your mind at such an early age."
"Sir," said the other boy suddenly and James jerked up. He had almost forgotten about him. "Can you see me? Us, I mean. Can you see both of us?"
"I see an impersonation of your skill," said Dumbledore softly, this time not taking his eyes off Snape. "Yes, Severus. I can see him because he has become incredibly strong in you within the last weeks – months, perhaps. Yet, I did not realise what was happening because, I am sad to say, a headmaster is not always as free to look after his students as he should. It was indeed Professor McGonagall, by the way, who pointed me to the fact that your case required my specific attention. She approached me several times over the year, though, of course, she could not recognise your problem for what it was, never having studied the field in great detail herself. I only realised what was happening when she recounted the story of your – how did she put it – 'invisible friend' to me last night."
"She's gonna tell father," whispered Snape. James rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of the whining. Why on earth did Snape not wonder what exactly had made the other boy assume a solid shape a few moments ago, when they had still been alone?
"I am a little surprised that you can think of your father when we have such an interesting case of manifested magic at hand," Dumbledore told the small Slytherin, pointing at the other boy with the tip of his wand. "You ought to realise that this is your greatest problem at present. And that for all others, you can rely on the assistance of your head of house -" he stopped, frowned, and eventually let out a small chuckle. "But I forget that she is not, in fact, your head of house," he said good-naturedly. "I apologise. Still, you will realise that you have a friend in her. A friend who can help you."
"She is NOT my friend!" snarled the boy called Skein from behind the headmaster.
"I would like you to accept the option that she might be," Dumbledore told Snape in the same, polite voice as before. "Even if you are not in a position to feel it, as yet."
There was another small silence before Snape nodded, obediently.
"Now," said the headmaster, sounding almost cheerful. "What to do about your Legilimency – if you would take out your wand, Severus, I am going to show you exactly what to do in order to keep this alternate personality under control. It is no great matter, really. The most complicated problems, once understood, are often overcome with the simplest of spells."