Everything stinks till it's finished.
-Dr. Seuss
"Are we ready?" asked Remus. It was the next night. Thunder roared outside, rain struck the windows, just as it had for the past two days. Each of them nodded gravely, and Remus said, "Alright, James, take the stage."
James traded places with Remus, and he began to pace up and down. Sirius snickered. James spun and snapped, "Excuse me, soldier?"
Sirius bit his lip, trying to stifle his laughter. "It's just, Commander Potter, you're so short, and scrawny, that you look sorta ridiculous."
James puffed up his chest and tried to make himself look taller as he met Sirius' eye squarely and yelled, "Drop and gimme ten!"
"Ten what?" Sirius asked, bewildered.
Remus rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to do ten push-ups, Sirius."
"But why?" demanded Sirius.
"Because," Peter insisted, "he's your commander." Sirius pouted and did five half-hearted push-ups before flopping on the ground, gasping for breath. James laughed, but quickly reconstructed his face into a scowl.
"Now, boys, this is it. The big one. The one we've all been waiting for. We are the best prankers that Hogwarts has ever seen. We're going to pull this off, I'm sure of it. And we won't get caught. Because we are the Marauders!" They all cheered, then Sirius and Remus swept the Cloak over them all, since they were the tallest. On silent toes, they slipped out of the dormitory and through the the portrait hole.
"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady, their portrait. Sirius doubled over in a silent fit of laughter. James kicked him lightly. They continued on their way. First, they stopped at Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"Myrtle," stage-whispered James. "Where are you?" Myrtle swooped in front of them.
"Hello," she greeted them. She glanced at Peter and Remus. "Who are they?"
Remus stepped forward. "Hi, Miss Warren. My name is Remus Lupin, and this is Peter Pettigrew. We're going to be working on this potion tonight, if that's alright with you."
"Yes, that's fine. It's over there." She turned to James and Sirius. "Where are you going?" she asked curiously.
"We have some business to attend to," James replied briskly.
"Oh," muttered Myrtle. She looked crestfallen, and James felt a little bad about leaving so soon. "I thought you might like to stay..." She blushed as she stared at James. James' eyes widened and he assured her that they would be returning, then left as quickly as he could without running.
Sirius' eyes were watering as he stumbled up behind James. "James, I think Myrtle fancies you!" James shushed him, flushing horribly. "Myrtle and James, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S—"
James clapped a hand over his mouth. The warm glow from a lantern swinging from someone's fingers washed the walls in a buttery yellow. Sirius' eyes widened, and they fumbled with the Cloak. It twisted, and they had to take it off again—
Apollyon Pringle crept into view. His milky, cataracted eyes swept over the spot where James and Sirius where crouching under the Invisibility Cloak once, twice, three times before he limped away on rheumatism-damaged joints. Sirius sighed in relief, and James slumped backwards. He wiped away the cold sweat that had broken out on his forehead, then they clambered to their feet and snuck down to the dungeons.
"Purity," whispered James. The wall opened. James turned to Sirius, triumphant. James' face fell. Sirius looked sickened, pale, scared. "Are you okay?" Sirius nodded his head vigorously, and James hesitated before accepting the answer. Because Sirius did not look okay. Sirius looked like he was about to throw up, run, or keel over and die. But James let it go—he would deal with this later. Together, they crept into the Slytherin common room. James could feel Sirius shaking beside him. He felt a little shaky himself.
The Slytherin common room was awash in a dark green glow from lanterns hanging on chains from the low ceiling. The rough stone walls and cold feeling made James think that they were somewhere under the lake. The only warmth came from the small fire crackling beneath an extravagant mantelpiece, one that must have taken hours, and several blisters, to carve. The room was furnished with high-backed chairs made of the darkest leather. "Which staircase do you think is for the boys?" James whispered.
"Ummm... Let's try the staircase on the right?" suggested Sirius. "Maybe it's set up the same in all of the Houses." James nodded, and they tentatively put their foot on the first step. Then the second. They slowly made their way up to the first door, reading First Year. "Okay, this is where Snivellus lives," Sirius said. "So where's Lucy?"
James led the way up to the dorm reading Sixth Year. "Here we are!" he breathed cheerfully. Sirius gently pushed on the door. It opened with an eerie silence. James gulped, but they slipped inside anyways.
The room was inhabited by loud snores and dirty underwear. Sirius giggled, "You'd think, since they act so superior, that they'd be better about cleaning up after themselves."
James snorted. "They probably still think that their house elf is going to do it for them." They entered the bathroom. James stood in the doorway while Sirius pawed through the medicine cabinet, under the sink, in the shower, even peeked behind the toilet and in the tank.
"James," he whined, "I can't find it."
James bit his lip. "Maybe it's under his bed or something?" Sirius nodded, and they scanned the room. James' eyes lit upon the blonde boy, who was snoring something dreadful and snuggling a pillow. James choked on his laughter, and Sirius, his eyes watering, patted him on the back. James bent to look under the bed. Just some old, dusty socks, some broken quill pens, a bottle of ink—
"What's this?" James held up a magazine titled Witch Weekly. Sirius' eyes glinted with malice as they read the cover. Witch Weekly's Sexiest Celebrity Award Winner.
"Looks like Lucy reads the gossip rags," sang Sirius. James snorted and tossed the tabloid back under the bed. He slid open the top drawer when Sirius prodded him. He ignored it. Sirius poked him again, and he once again let it slide.
A whack over the head sent James leaping to his feet, as he quietly growled, "What do you want, Black?" Sirius, who was slowly turning red from the strain of quieting the laughter bubbling up his throat, pointed at the pillow that Malfoy was clutching so tenderly.
Except it wasn't a pillow.
It was a toiletry bag.
A toiletry bag.
James stuffed his fist in his mouth, and the two had to sit down for a few minutes under the Cloak to calm down. "How're we gonna get it?" James inquired.
"Pillow," Sirius replied. He snatched it from one of the beds–the boy sleeping there had his head where his feet should be, and was spread eagle across the bed. Carefully, James took hold of the toiletry bag and eased it away.
Malfoy made a pitiful whimpering noise and reached for something, his eyes screwed shut. Sirius gently held the pillow within Malfoy's reach, and, after a few passes, Malfoy's pale, spidery fingers wrapped around the pillow and drew it to him. He curled up around it, shielding it with his long legs. James grinned at Sirius, who smirked triumphantly, and they crept down the stairs back to the First Year dormitory.
This door, too, opened silently. It was unnerving. This room was strewn with books and paper wads, filled with sighs of sleep. It was much more peaceful. James pointed out Snivellus, who had the blankets drawn up to his chin and looked stiff as a board. His head was facing the ceiling. It was too perfect.
Sirius carefully squirted the hair product around Snivellus' head. It smelled expensive. James held onto the bottles. When they were finished, they crept back to the common room and painstakingly painted Courtesy of the Marauders on one of the walls using the remainder of the hair product. They dumped the empty bottles in a pile underneath the message and left.
As soon as they were out of earshot, they began cackling with glee, all the way up to Myrtle's bathroom, where they swept the Cloak off and retold the tale dramatically to Peter, whose eyes widened in awe, and to Remus, who was diligently working on the potion.
Remus interrupted James' narrative of Malfoy and his pillow to say, "Okay, it has to brew for a few days, then you can finish up."
"Us?" Sirius demanded. "What about you?"
"My mom is really sick," Remus explained anxiously, twisting his hands nervously. James felt a rush of sympathy for his odd, pale, scarred, tall friend. "I'm going to go visit her..."
"Of course, Remus," James assured him, clapping him on the back. "Just don't let her keep you too long, yeah?"
James was exhausted. He had gotten next to no sleep last night, and Remus had made them all get up at six because he remembered that they hadn't done their homework.
Speaking of which, James had quickly lost his excitement for out of class assignments. They were boring, and dull, and boring, and boring. He hated them with a burning passion.
James was a zombie as he headed down to breakfast. Sirius was chattering excitedly... Something about asparagus. When he glanced next to him, Remus was rereading his Transfiguration essay. A cramp in James' left hand burned, and he pressed down on it, hard. Peter was... Nowhere to be found. James straightened.
"Where's Peter?" he queried, interrupting Sirius' tirade about the evils of asparagus.
All three of them turned around to find him. And there he was, standing in the middle of the corridor, asleep. James breathed a sigh of relief and began to push his way through the crowd. Peter was still sleeping, despite the people coming up behind him–
Were those Slytherins?
James' eyes widened, and he heard Sirius gasp and Remus growl, and they renewed their efforts. Remus almost literally clawed his way through the mass of students.
They didn't get there in time.
Peter was still asleep when the biggest, baddest, ugliest Slytherin pushed him to the ground, where he woke up with a cry of pain and shock. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the blood traitor's kid," he sneered. It was Mulciber. "How's your mummy, Pettigrew? Still feeding you junk about equal rights for Mud—"
"Don't you dare!" James roared. A wave of air rippled through the corridor, blasting everyone around him backwards. "Don't you dare finish that sentence," he hissed.
"Or what?" Mulciber leered. "You'll set your daddy on me? Cause I'm not scared of—"
"I don't need my father to fight my battles," replied James, straightening.
Snivellus stepped up from behind Mulciber, scoffed, "This isn't your battle, Potter. Go run home to your buddies over there. This doesn't concern you." James was pleased to see hair product smeared in his greasy hair.
"This became my battle when you threatened my friends and what I believe in!" snapped James. "Leave now." James fished in his robe for his wand, then drew it and brandished it at them. "Leave my friends alone."
"What if we don't feel like it?" Mulciber drawled, twirling his wand.
James mocked, "What if we don't feel like letting you leave in one piece?" The colour drained out of Mulciber's face, and crept into Snivellus'. "Cause that's what I'll do if you don't leave."
Snivellus curled his lip. "Will you really, Potter? Or you just acting all man for the crowd. Will you actually curse us?"
James' lip twitched in anger. He considered replying, but instead yelled, "Anteoculatia!" He never knew why, but he had felt a strange attraction to this spell when he had come across it in reading. A connection. Nevertheless, Snivellus doubled over under the weight of the antlers sporting from his greasy, shampoo-ridden hair.
A yell from next to him alerted him to Sirius, joining him in the duel. Remus was behind them, keeping the onlookers from getting themselves hurt by rushing in. Sirius had shouted, "Cantis!" Mulciber burst into song—he sang opera awfully. James sniggered.
Snivellus had managed to straighten up, and now teetered as he jabbed his wand, first at Sirius. "Cavalrio." Sirius' waves of inky hair began to fall out. He collapsed to his knees and wailed as he gathered the hair in his arms. James glared at Snivellus. "Colloshoo," Snivellus added, his wand aimed at James. James, who was trying to make his way to Sirius, fell to the ground, his ankles twisted. He groaned in pain and pulled himself to his knees.
James rasped, "Mucus ad Nauseam." Snivellus found himself with an uncontrollably runny nose. James smirked, thinking of the nickname that they had given Snivellus.
Suddenly, a girl burst into sight. "Sev!" she cried, rushing to his aid. She pulled a pack of tissues from her bookbag, which was splattered in blueblack ink, and rounded on James. "What is your problem?" Evans screeched.
James angrily opened his mouth, but she never let him speak. "Potter, he gave you no reason to hex him. Don't you know that that's bullying? Which makes you a bully, Potter, and you, Black. And, Remus," she pleaded, her voice softer, "why wouldn't you stop them?" Remus looked down at his feet. She turned back to James and Sirius. "Leave Sev alone," she commanded coolly."
"I'll do what I want," retorted James. "Snivellus—"
"Don't call him that!" screamed Evans.
James continued over her, "—isn't any more saintly than I am! I started this because he and his friend were bullying Peter!" Evans gaped. "So maybe you should get both sides of the story before you go all judge-y on everyone."
Evans closed her mouth with a snap. "You still shouldn't have hexed anyone. You should have gone to a teacher, or, if you were going to resort to abuse, then only verbal." She helped Snivellus up and towed him to the Hospital Wing, struggling under the weight of his antlers.
James seethed, "What's her problem?" Remus, who was tugging on James' feet to no avail, shrugged. James growled, then called, "Peter? You okay?"
Peter uncurled from his spot on the floor. He chose not to answer James' question, instead asking one of his own. "Do you think my mum is okay?" Enid Pettigrew worked for the Quibbler, a magazine. Her articles were largely centred around Muggle-born rights.
Remus assured him, "I'm sure she's fine. Now, let's get James up, then we can take Sirius to the Hospital Wing, yeah?" Peter nodded, and tugged on James' arm. Remus did as well, and James groaned as his ankles were twisted further. "Sorry, James!" winced Remus. "How about you take off your shoes? I'm sure someone will get them." James nodded, and worked his way out of his shoes, wincing the whole way. "C'mon, Sirius," prompted Remus, obviously exasperated with Sirius' theatrics. "Pick up your hair and follow us." Remus dragged James along by one of his arms.
James was impressed. Remus' wiry, gangly, unnaturally tall figure didn't look like it could handle much physical exertion, but Remus pulled James along by himself for several yards before Peter hurried to catch up and took his other arm. James studied his socked feet as they trailed behind him...in front of him...whatever. They were beginning to swell, his socks already stretching to accommodate them. James swallowed the bitter feeling and looked away.
Sirius trailed after them dejectedly, stroking the bundle of hair in his arms.
They didn't meet anyone on their way to the Hospital Wing, for which James was eternally grateful. He didn't want to be seen dragged along, even if it was for a good reason.
He tilted his head back and saw the doors of the Hospital Wing looming into sight. James dragged his feet, forcing Remus and Peter to stop. "What...?" Remus trailed off as he saw James hauling himself to his feet. "James! You'll just make it worse, don't do this to yourself!" he pleaded, pulling on James' sleeve.
"No," insisted James. "Let me get there myself... Like a man."
Remus snorted derisively, but flung the doors open all the same. James straightened his back until it was ruler straight, pushed back his shoulders, and walked into the Hospital Wing, limping awfully. Sirius slumped in miserably, and Remus jogged in, yelling, "Madam Pomfrey! C'mere, quick!" The young mediwitch poked her head out of a curtain, scowling.
"Remus Lupin, I swear to Merlin, if that cut has opened up again— Oh!" she gasped. "What the devil happened to you, boy?" She rushed over and herded him over to a bed. "Oh, dear. Two twisted ankles—Remus, why did you let this boy walk?"
"He didn't give me a choice," whined Remus. "And Sirius needs help, too." Madam Pomfrey slowly turned to look at Sirius, who was sitting dejectedly at the end of James' bed, gazing at his hair forlornly.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered. She bustled over to her office. James heard a voice float from behind the curtain a few beds down the line. "C'mon, Sev, you have to drink this," the voice said.
"Evans?"
Evans poked her head out of the curtain. "What do you want, Potter?"
"Nothing!" assured James. "I'm here to get fixed."
"Why do you need to get fixed?" she asked, her scorn evident.
James wrinkled his nose. "Why don't you ask your greasy little boyfriend, huh?"
Turning red, Evans spluttered, "He's not—I never said—We're not—Sev is not my boyfriend, Potter!"
"Oh, so you're single, then?" James guessed. He couldn't care less, except he wanted to fluster her. And fluster her he did.
"Wouldn't you like to know," she taunted.
James quirked an eyebrow. "So you're in a relationship, then?"
"Never said that."
"I thought so," James replied, smirking. Evans gaped, the colour flooding from her face, making the itty bitty freckles stand out.
Remus admonished, "James. That wasn't nice."
Peter added, "That was a little low. Just saying."
"Yeah, mate. Evans can't help it if Snivellus hexes any guys who even look like they're thinking of talking to her," chimed Sirius, finally taking his eyes away from the bundle of hair in his arms.
Evans' eyes narrowed as she protested, "Sni—Sev does not! He's not jealous or anything!"
"Sure he's not," snorted James, crossing his arms and looking away pointedly.
Evans huffed, but then asked, "So why are you in the Hospital Wing, then?"
James started, twisting around to look at her. "You don't really want to know. You're just being polite."
Evans frowned. "I don't ask questions that I don't want the answer to," she snapped.
James eyed her warily, but answered, "My ankles are twisted."
"What?" she gasped. "But—why?"
Sirius replied viciously, "Cause Snivellus glued his shoes to the ground, and James got stuck there, his feet in one place while the rest of him was stuck in uncomfortable positions."
"Sev..." growled Evans, stomping back inside the curtain. James could hear her hissing, "Why did you do that? He didn't do you any lasting harm..."
Madam Pomfrey returned, clutching several potions. She ducked inside the curtain, and emerged with two potions less than she had before. She handed two to James, and one to Sirius, then watched as they drained the potions.
Sirius' potion's effect was instantaneous. Hair began to sprout from his bald scalp, falling halfway down to his shoulders, bouncing there voluminously. Sirius sighed in relief, stroking his slightly choppy, wavy hair. James' potions took longer. Suddenly, a fiery pain flared up in both of his ankles before fading, agonisingly slowly.
"You're going to have to stay the night, I'm afraid," Madam Pomfrey stated. James began to protest, but she quieted him with, "If you behave, I'll let you leave for breakfast tomorrow." James pouted, but remained silent. "Remus, I have a potion for you to bring to your mother when you leave tonight. Come here," she beckoned to Remus and led him to her office.