I posted my chapters slightly out of order! This one goes before last week's chapter.

James dashed back to the common room, followed by his Sirius and Peter. "We only have a couple of minutes before class starts," he said, "and I really need to get that book from the library."

"How is it any different from all of the other books that we've scoured?" grumbled Sirius. "I'm so tired of reading, Prongs. You know I can't sit still."

"It's different because I saw it in the Prophet! It was written by the first Registered Animagus, and it was just recently published! They found his notes and then translated them to English… do you know how useful this could be?"

"How do you know the Hogwarts library already has it?" asked Peter, struggling to catch up.

"Duh. The Hogwarts library has everything. It even has some horribly prejudiced books on werewolves." James wrinkled his nose. "There's a whole book advocating for werewolf execution, did you know? I've read it twice."

"How'd Moony feel about that?" snorted Sirius.

"Doesn't know. I read it while he was sleeping. It's the stupidest thing ever." James turned the corner briskly, and his friends followed. "Don't you understand? We have to help him."

"We can't help with the prejudice," said Peter.

"You're right, but we can help with the transformations." They kept running until Argus caught them and shouted at them to stop running in the corridors, and then they slowed down to a brisk walk. James was panting now, but there were only a few more staircases to go before they reached the dormitory.

"I just can't believe that people hate them so much," grouched James. "You know, werewolves. It's not fair. He's locking himself up every single month so that he doesn't hurt anyone. He doesn't even want to hurt anyone! Did you hear how angry he was this morning?"

"Yeah," said Peter. "I'm kind of worried about him. He's been so much more emotional recently. He's been angry with us a lot, I think."

"Well, I don't blame him for being all emotionally turbulent," said James, "after what happened last year. I was feeling weird for the longest time, and I wasn't nearly as close to John and the town as he was."

They finally reached the dormitory, where James slipped on his Library Disguise. "Okay," he panted, adjusting the dark sunglasses and large, floppy, pink hat. "Library. Now."

The ran downstairs, not even bothering to talk, and skidded into the library—James dashed to the Transfiguration aisle, not bothering to acknowledge Irma's noises of disapproval—and then—there it was! That was it! That was the book that James wanted! He grabbed it, checked it out, and then ran out of the library, his friends hot on his heels.

"I don't have time to take off my outfit," he said. "I'll just go to Transfiguration class with it on. Minerva won't mind, right?"

Sirius snorted. "Do whatever you like, mate."

And so the Marauders showed up to Transfiguration class: Peter was panting and sweating, Sirius was utterly confused, and James was dressed as a woman at the beach with an advanced transfiguration book in his satchel.

Minerva didn't even question it, but she did take off quite a few points for James' lack of a uniform.

"Today," Minerva said, once all of the students had settled down and stopped talking about James' disguise, "we will be learning about Animagi. Can anybody tell me what an Animagus is?"

James looked at Sirius, wide-eyed. Sirius looked at James, fearful. Peter looked at the both of them, but neither of them looked at him (which made him feel very excluded).

Right before their very eyes, Minerva transformed into a grey tabby cat with spectacle-markings about her eyes. "Cool," the Marauders breathed (Peter a half-second after James and Sirius). Minerva shifted back. She looked a bit pleased by all the students' awed gasps.

"An Animagus," announced Minerva, "is a person that can change into an animal at will. No one is born with the gift; rather, it takes years of hard work and preparation. Becoming an Animagus is a very dangerous process that one should not attempt without proper training."

Sirius raised his hand, and the class collectively gasped. Sirius never raised his hand—no, he always shouted exactly what he wanted to say, with no inhibitions or prior thinking. "Yes, Mr. Black?" asked Minerva, clearly very uncomfortable at his sudden change of personality.

"What can go wrong?" Sirius asked. "You said that it was dangerous. Can it kill people?"

"I'm glad you asked," said Minerva. "Animagus transformations are very easy to botch, and when they go wrong, they go very wrong indeed. In fact, I know people personally with deformations brought about from a badly-done transformation. Few people succeed. People can become half-animal, half-human mutants… they can be violently ripped apart from the inside-out and die instantly… they can change the shape of their skeletons without managing to change the shape of their skin… their hearts can fail, their brains can be affected, and some completely turn into animals—permanently—mind and all." Minerva surveyed the class, somehow conveying the full gravity of the situation with only her eyes. Peter shuddered.

"Why'd you risk it?" asked James. "Surely you had something that made it worth going through all that."

Minerva smiled faintly. "I just wanted to prove myself as a notable figure in the world of transfiguration and academics. It was an academic project, if you will. Besides, Professor Dumbledore was assisting me—I knew that nothing would go wrong under his supervision. I was seventeen."

"It might have been cool to end up as a half-cat," said James thoughtfully. "Pity you didn't."

"I met a man who really did turn into a half-cat," Minerva replied. "Jaguar, to be specific. But he wasn't half-human, half-jaguar—no, he literally turned into half a jaguar. Died an agonizing death."

Peter went stark pale.

"I don't mean to get too graphic for third-year ears," Minerva said. "Rest assured that you will never have to risk any of this if you do not attempt to become an Animagus. And, after an incident which occurred only five years ago, Madam Pomfrey would like me to remind you that attempting to become one without express permission and supervision will result in instant expulsion—that is, if you don't die first."

"What happened five years ago?" asked Peter, still white.

"No one died, but a girl managed to turn herself into a rock. Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix her, and she ended up occupying St. Mungo's for half a year before anyone managed to cure the affliction. She was fine, but it could have been a lot worse. Now, please open your textbooks to page three-hundred-seven."

James took out a piece of parchment and took notes at rapid-fire speed for the rest of class.

"I don't think we should do this," said Peter as soon as classes were over. "Remus would hate us if we hurt ourselves on his account."

"Our job isn't to make Remus like us," said James, rolling his eyes. "We just want to help him. Don't care if he hates us."

"John said that he'd never let us do it, though."

"He will."

"He won't!"

"Then we'll force him. Easy."

Sirius stepped in front of James and put both hands on James' shoulders. "Mate. He nearly bit our heads off earlier. I think we should make sure that he's not opposed to it before we go further."

"Just because you're afraid of all the gruesome possible outcomes," scoffed James.

"I don't want to end up as half a frog! I don't want you to end up as half a frog! I'd be scarred for life if I saw that happen!"

"I wouldn't turn into half a frog. I'd turn into half a stag."

"But…" Sirius gestured towards Peter. "He's not even a big animal! What's he going to do for Remus?"

"He could be bait. If Remus is chasing him around, then he won't be scratching himself to bits."

Peter made a small squeaking noise.

"Don't be thick!" scoffed Sirius. "We don't know if this will work! Prongs, I'm thirteen! I don't want to die!"

"We won't die. We're the brightest students in school. Well, not Wormtail… but we'll help him out." James shook off Sirius and grinned. "It'll be fun! What's life without a bit of danger?"

"A good life," said Peter, trying not to be offended. He was much cleverer than they gave him credit for—at least, that's what Remus always said.

"Besides… think of the possibilities! A stag, a dog, and a rat running 'round… it'll be fun! Peter, you could ride on one of our backs. And I'm gonna have giant antlers. And Sirius is gonna have long fur. I can give you baths! And I'm going to run at the speed of light!" James threw out his arms. "Peter can spy on people! We can take Sirius for walks! Maybe you can speak Dog with Remus or something. And I can headbutt Snape with my antlers!"

"It does sound fun," said Sirius. "Except for the bath part. You're not giving me a bath. That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"See? You don't like baths! You're already halfway there, you big old mutt!"

"No, I just don't like you giving me baths, because that's weird."

Peter shook his head. "But… how are we going to keep Remus under control? Won't he just… I mean, even if he doesn't try to kill us, he'll just keep doing what he was doing before. The only difference is that we'll be in the room."

"We'll figure that out!" said James. "Wolves do better in a pack—both werewolves and ordinary wolves—so, obviously, company helps somehow."

"Remus tears up furniture," Sirius pointed out. "He said that he bites and scratches at anything in the room—even himself—because there aren't humans to bite and scratch at. He doesn't care what he's destroying, even if it's not his primary prey. Just because werewolves don't seek animal prey doesn't mean that he won't hurt us."

"Bah," said James. "We'll figure it out. Come on… it's a project! It'll be fun, I promise! I thought I'd already convinced you lot."

"Yeah, until we learned that it could go so horrifically wrong," said Sirius. "I'm usually all for putting myself in senseless danger, but this is something else. Things to do with… with weird, gruesome, graphic… body-related things… gross me out. I can't."

"I can't, either," said Peter. "I'm frightened."

"But it's for Remus!" argued James.

Sirius shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't really believe that, Prongs. Yeah, it's for Remus, but you don't even know that it'll help him. This is just one of your big, mad ideas. You got it in your head, and now you're obsessed. You're not really doing it for Remus, and you know it."

"Haven't my big ideas always worked before?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"You lot are starting to sound like Remus. Don't jump off the staircase, don't go near the Shrieking Shack on a full moon, don't eat that ladybug, James…."

"What?" said Peter. "When did you eat a ladybug?"

"I didn't. Moony told me not to."

"I think we need more of an explanation than that."

"It doesn't matter. Point is, you're being annoying. And we're gonna become Animagi. Got it?"

There was a long moment of silence.

Sirius looked at James.

James looked at Sirius.

Peter looked at both of them.

Finally…

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Yeah. It could be fun."

It was another long moment before Peter, terrified, slowly nodded. "If you're doing it, then I'm doing it, too," he said.

"Brilliant!" James cried, clapping his hands. "Yes! We're doing this! Now, I'm going to take notes on this book, so someone get me some parchment. Padfoot, you can read that other book. We have to do this right if we're going to survive. Wormtail, you can go visit Moony. He'll be lonely."

"Sure thing," said Peter shakily, and then he scurried out of the room.

Once he had left, Sirius turned to James. "You don't think he'll spill? He might tell Moony just so that Moony will call it off."

"He won't spill," said James firmly. "He'd never."

"Hey, Moony," said Peter, poking his head into Madam Pomfrey's office. Remus was listening to a record player on the beside table: a man seemed to be giving a speech.

"Oh, Peter!" said Remus, his face lighting up. "Where are James and Sirius?"

"Working on that project they were talking about. But I figured I'd pop by."

Remus grinned. Peter caught a few words on the record: irreversible damage… torturous… even in human form. He cringed.

"…really nice of you," Remus was saying. "Here, why don't you have a seat? Madam Pomfrey brought me a few Butterbeers from Hogsmeade. It's getting colder out, and I was really shivery after the transformation."

"I thought Dumbledore charmed the Shack?" said Peter, pulling over a chair and taking a Butterbeer. "I thought it was warm in the winter."

"Yeah, but sometimes transforming messes with my body temperature," said Remus. "And I had to walk back, too—I was cold for a long time after that. Honestly, though, I think she just brought me the Butterbeer because I missed the Hogsmeade visit on Saturday."

Peter took a sip. "It's good Butterbeer," he said, surprised. "It usually doesn't keep."

"She has a charmed refrigerator for storing potions," said Remus. "Apparently, it works great for Butterbeer as well."

They sat and sipped their Butterbeer in silence, and Peter tried to listen to the record. "What's this?" he said.

"Alexander Adamson. Werewolf researcher. I was telling you about him earlier, remember?"

Peter nodded and listened more carefully. If werewolves survive for multiple decades after being bitten—which is very rare indeed—then they find that living with the affliction for extended periods of time causes some unfortunate side effects, Adamson was saying. Partial loss of voice is the most common. It's rare, but some long-time werewolves lose their voices entirely.

"What?" said Peter. "Did he just say that it's rare to live for multiple decades after being bitten?"

Remus looked a bit sheepish. "It's unpredictable," he murmured. "Most werewolves don't die of natural causes. But… yeah. You can't honestly expect me to live long like this, now can you?"

Peter was absolutely horrified. "But… you're almost at ten years!"

"Yeah."

"Ten years is a decade!"

"Yeah."

"So you'll be a rarity if your life isn't halfway over already!"

"…Yeah. But I plan on being a rarity." Remus grinned. "Even if I have to lose my voice. Really, Peter, it's unpredictable. If I can follow the law and stay out of trouble, then I'll be fine. I probably won't live as long as you and James and Sirius, but that's not a big deal."

Peter thought about that. He couldn't imagine knowing that his days were numbered. And, now that he thought about it, Remus' voice did get a little scratchy sometimes (particularly after the full moon). Sometimes, it would go mid-sentence, and then he'd have to clear his throat and start over. Peter had never thought much of it before, but it happened too often for comfort.

"Why does the voice thing happen?" he asked Remus.

Remus shrugged. "Same as everything else," he said. "The stiffness. Soreness. Joint problems. And the voice. It's all from being completely reshaped and remolded two times a month."

"Two? I thought you only transformed once."

"Well, yeah. Once to a wolf and once back from a wolf. Both are taxing." Remus smiled. "I'm all right, Wormtail. Adamson's a bit gruesome, but anything can be gruesome if you have the right lens."

Peter wasn't sure where Remus was going with that. "What do you mean?"

"I could go on and on about possible Quidditch injuries. One's skull could be bashed in by a Bludger. Eyesight problems from looking for the Snitch. Falling off one's broomstick and breaking every single bone that exists. Adamson's like that—he just focuses on the bad possibilities. It doesn't mean they're likely, and it doesn't mean that's all there is to it."

"Oh," said Peter.

They sat and listened for a moment. Victims and witnesses describe Fenrir Greyback, notorious werewolf, to have a very raspy voice; no doubt from years of transformations…. Adamson droned, and Remus shut off the record player.

"So what's this project about?" he asked Peter.

Peter had been about to tell Remus. He really had been. Transforming into an animal—according to McGonagall, according to Adamson, and even according to Remus—did not sound pleasant. Peter wanted to escape, and the only way that he could think to do that was to tell Remus. Remus would shut it down. Remus would get him out of this. Peter felt so trapped, being forced to risk his life for something he wasn't even certain would work… it would be so much better to help Remus in other ways, wouldn't it? Peter could visit Remus more often… raise money for lycanthropy research… anything but needlessly risking his life.

But McGonagall had been transforming for years, and she never complained of the things that Remus suffered from. So Animagi were different, weren't they?

Besides, Remus was even more trapped than Peter was. Peter could stop at any time with only the risk (well, it was more of a certainty than a risk) of losing his friends. Remus could not stop being a werewolf. Peter had asked James to make sure that there were no other alternatives to the Animagus plan the other day, and when James had asked Remus that morning, Remus had affirmed that the only cure in the world was death!

Yes, Remus was even more trapped than Peter was, and Peter hated being trapped. Of course he didn't want it to happen to anyone else, and Remus had no choice in the matter—even less than Peter did.

So Peter looked Remus dead in the eyes, shrugged lightly, and lied.

"It's for your birthday," said Peter. "I wasn't supposed to tell you, but there's no project. They're only planning your birthday party. It's going to be big."

"Oh," said Remus, evidently flummoxed. "They needn't."

"There's also going to be a very large prank, so James is excited. You should let him do it. He'll be so disappointed otherwise."

"Oh… all right," said Remus. "Okay, I suppose. I'm not sure I like that, but there's no stopping the Marauders, eh?"

"Yeah," said Peter with a slight grimace. "None at all." He took another sip of Butterbeer before adding, "You should pretend you still don't know. I wasn't supposed to tell you."

"I can keep a secret," said Remus, grinning.

Peter snorted.

Remus' mouth quirked up.

And then, for hardly any reason, the two of them collapsed into laughter that was so violent that Butterbeer came out of Peter's nose. It burned, but Peter figured that he might as well get used to pain.

"You realize that you're probably going to have to watch him transform?" said James.

Sirius looked up at him. The two of them had been poring over the books for ten minutes (which was a very long time for Sirius to sit still), and he was getting a bit antsy and testy. "Yeah," said Sirius grouchily.

"And you realize that it's going to be awful."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, haven't you thought about it? I've read books. It's a gruesome affair. You can literally see the bones moving underneath the skin. And all of Hogsmeade can hear him holler, can't they? And you know how high Remus' pain threshold is. It's got to be really, really bad."

Sirius winced. "I'll look away," he said.

"You'll still hear it. Who's to say you won't hear all his bones breaking and things?"

Sirius winced again. "I'll cover my ears."

"Can't do that with paws, mate."

Sirius winced so drastically that he fell over backwards. "I'll make you headbutt me with your antlers so hard that I pass out," he said, now lying flat on his back.

"You're lying on the book, Padfoot. Get up."

Sirius groaned and sat up. "I can't believe this," he said. "I'm so weak. Remus can stand pain. Why can't I stand watching people in pain?"

"Maybe it's because you're so empathetic," said James.

Sirius looked at James, and then the two of them started to laugh. "Yeah, right," said Sirius. "You know I'm not empathetic."

"Yeah," giggled James. "I was only joking. I dunno, mate, I think it's just some sort of weird phobia. Like me and cockroaches. You're squeamish, and it's just how your brain is built. It doesn't mean you're weak."

"I don't know how to get over it. I'm feeling ill just thinking about it all."

"I guess you just have to desensitize yourself," said James. "We can go to the library and look at pictures, or we could ask Remus if we could watch one of his memories."

"He'll never let me do that."

"No, you're right." James fell silent. "I really want this to work, Padfoot," he said, and Sirius could tell from the look on his face that he wasn't joking at all.

Sirius sighed. Hesitant as he was, he wanted it to work, too. "Me too," he confessed. "Being a dog would be so fun. And I do want to help Remus."

"He has kind of an awful life," said James.

There was amicable silence. James flipped a page. And then…

"I'm doing it," said Sirius. "I don't want to be a squeamish weakling forever, you know. Especially not in the middle of a war."

"I already knew that," laughed James. "You were always going to do it. You're a Gryffindor, after all."

Sirius swelled with pride. Yes, he was.

Peter returned to the dormitory an hour and a half later, only to see James—sprawled out across the floor, ink on his cheek, and his wand between his teeth as he read—and Sirius—who was writing up a plan diligently. James looked up and saw Peter. "Oi," he said. "How's Remus?"

"Alive," said Peter softly. "Did you know that his lifespan is less than a third of ours?"

"Yep," said James. He spat out his wand unceremoniously and stretched. "I wouldn't worry. Apparently, most werewolf deaths are suicide. It was in that book that Questus gave me."

Peter looked at his shoes. He was feeling a bit ill all of a sudden. "I don't understand why anyone would off themselves," he said. "Surely anything's better than death." The thought of death made him feel a bit twisty inside—he would rather do anything, he reckoned—even be a werewolf.

James snorted. "Have you seen Remus after a full moon, mate? Not to mention the way that he was talking about it earlier. Did you hear that? He said that death was the only cure—went on about it forever—almost sounded reverential."

Sirius frowned. "He's not…"

"Nah, he's not going to off himself, I'm certain of it—but I do reckon that werewolves just get sick of it after a while. They think it's the only cure there is… but it's not!" James stabbed the book in front of him with his wand. "Look. This passage right here—it says that Animagi smell just like regular animals when they're transformed. We will, for all intents and purposes, be real-live animals! And this one over here says that werewolves are calmer when in the presence of their own kind."

Sirius snorted. "Sorry to break it to you, Prongs, but we won't be werewolves."

"Maybe not. But it'll still work, because we won't be humans. I have a feeling."

"James," sighed Peter, "that's nothing to go off of. We're doing this completely blindly."

"Yeah? You think Remus got to do any research before he became a werewolf? You think that he could have looked at a book and said, 'Hm, no, that's not for me'? He had no choice in the matter, and we're his friends, so neither do we. Besides, even if it doesn't work, being a rat would be so useful for spying and sneaking!"

"I'm not a rat. I'm a mouse."

"You're a rat."

Peter groaned. "My dad died when I was a kid. Perhaps my Patronus is based off of him. Perhaps it's got nothing to do with my personality at all. Perhaps my Patronus form is a little different from what it would have been, and then my Animagus form would be different!"

Sirius shot sparks at Peter, and he squeaked and hurried away. "Nope, definitely a rat," said Sirius.

"You're still in, though, right?" said James. "You'll do it, won't you?"

Peter didn't even hesitate. "Yeah, of course. It's already been decided, remember? I'm in."

James let out a massive whoop, and Peter worried for a moment that Puttle would come up and interrupt them. "Minerva said we'd get expelled if we tried it, though," he reminded James, hoping that they could at least be a little bit more prepared before they began the process. "And Moony made us promise not to go near him on full moons."

James held up a finger. "Loopholes, dear Wormtail," he said. "First, I promised that we wouldn't go near Remus on full moons unless we had his permission, right? So we just need to get his permission."

"He won't give it to us," said Sirius, frowning.

"I think he might," said James. "But even if he doesn't, it'll still work. Let me remind you of his exact words: he said that his permission could not be given against his own, perfectly-sane, not-drunk-or-drugged-or-Imperiused-or-whatever, not-accidental free will. That doesn't include full moons, now, does it? And I think that wolf-Remus will be happy to imply permission."

"But he said that it had to be him," argued Peter. "The wolf isn't him."

"There is no 'the wolf'," James scoffed. "It is him, just different. He's told us that billions of times."

"I suppose," said Sirius. "But what about Minerva? Is there a loophole around that, too?"

James winked. "Since when do we care about breaking rules? But yes, there is. She said that attempting to become one without express permission and supervision will result in instant expulsion." James turned to Sirius. A lazy grin spread across his face, and he ruffled his hair dramatically. "I, James Potter, hereby give Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black express permission to become Animagi. And I'll also supervise you."

Sirius looked at James, and his face broke into a grin that exactly mirrored James'. "And I, Sirius, give James Potter express permission to become an Animagus. And I'll supervise you."

"Perfect!" crowed James. "We're not breaking any rules. Now, Marauders—minus Remus, who would probably pitch himself out a window if he knew that we were doing this—what do you say we get started?"

AN: Sorry again for the confusion :D