Remus was very impressed in spite of himself that his friends had managed to go two whole weeks without speaking a word.
He knew why they were doing it, of course, and the knowledge that they were risking their lives (and Remus', too) in the favor of a long-shot theory left a very bad taste in Remus' mouth. Still, though, the fact that the ever-talkative Marauders had managed to stay quiet was a huge accomplishment.
James had mastered the nutrition charm on his third try (his first try had given him purple skin, and his second had made light stream out of his nostrils). They wanted to ensure that no one asked them any questions, so they went back up to their dormitory for meals instead of not-eating in the Great Hall. Remus usually grabbed some food from the Hall and ate upstairs with his friends. Even though food wasn't technically allowed in the dormitories, it made Remus feel much safer to be up in the dormitory when he wasn't capable of hearing.
And so, for weeks on end, the Marauders "ate" meals alone, playing Exploding Snap to pass the time. Remus didn't usually like playing Exploding Snap (the loud noises scared him), but he found it perfectly enjoyable now that he couldn't hear.
Remus stopped going to Duelling Club. It was simply too hard to duel—he never understood instructions, and his reactions times were off—so he figured Flitwick wouldn't mind. Feeling guilty about skipping, he'd stayed after class one day and alerted Professor Flitwick that he wouldn't be at the next Duelling Club meeting—just as he predicted, Flitwick wasn't angry one bit. That's fine, Remus, he wrote. I'll be frank. Out of everyone in your year, you need the LEAST practice duelling. Get well soon.
Remus also didn't show up to the next meeting of Drew's Crew. He knew he'd hold everyone back if Dilley had to write down his instructions for Remus after speaking.
In fact, Remus missed out on a lot. He mostly stayed in the dormitory and read (because he didn't feel safe in the library). He studied his textbooks. He tried to get caught up on schoolwork. He sat feeling sorry for himself (because what kind of life did Remus Lupin lead? He'd been accused by the Ministry, poisoned, and lost his hearing, all in the span of a couple of months).
But at least he wasn't the only one. Remus didn't like to admit it, but all four Marauders giving up speaking made him feel a lot less alone. Remus never felt left-out, nor did he feel especially impaired when he was around the Marauders. He never felt pressure to speak, and he never felt pressure to hear—not when they weren't speaking, themselves. In his time of discomfort, being around the Marauders was the only time that Remus felt normal… even though Remus knew what was concealed inside their mouths and didn't like it one bit.
Life went on. Remus received tens of letters from his parents, and James practiced Quidditch for tens of hours. The Marauders silently wandered through corridors and across the Hogwarts grounds, comfortable silences accompanying them wherever they went. Remus took tests and quizzes: he did well on some and did not do well on others. Indeed, life went on.
His ears hurt, though. They hurt terribly on occasion, and Remus ended up going to the Hospital Wing—voluntarily—to see if there was anything Madam Pomfrey could do for him.
As soon as he stepped inside the infirmary, she hugged him. Remus shrunk back, surprised—when she finally let go, she led him to the parchment and wrote, Thank you SO MUCH for coming promptly and without coercion. Words cannot describe how much I appreciate that.
"It's not a big deal," said Remus, because the Hospital Wing was empty at the moment and there was no one around to see him speaking.
It's a very big deal. Now take a seat—I'm sure there's something I can do for you.
And there was. A couple of charms and a few potions later, Remus' eardrums were no longer smarting sharply—in fact, they felt as good as new (if one ignored the fact that they weren't functional).
Now, before you go… wrote Madam Pomfrey, and Remus groaned.
"You're going to keep me in here for the rest of the day, aren't you? This is why I never go to the Hospital Wing on time! I just want to go back to class!"
No, no. I'm not keeping you here. I just want to ask you about meals. I haven't seen you in the Great Hall recently—you are eating, yes? You don't seem to be losing weight, but I haven't seen you eat a meal in ages.
"Oh," said Remus. "Yeah. I'm still eating. I'm… don't tell anyone, but I'm eating in my dormitory. It's more comfortable. Crowded places are frightening when I can't hear."
Very well, then. I won't tell a soul, as long as you keep eating properly and gain a little bit of weight before the next full moon. Understood?
"Perfectly, Madam Pomfrey. May I leave the Hospital Wing now?"
Of course.
And so Remus went back to the dormitory, both thankful for Madam Pomfrey's care and for her lack of such.
The Marauders didn't abandon James' map project. On rainy afternoons, James sat in front of the moving staircases and performed loads of Arithmancy calculations, figuring out exactly when and where the staircases would move. When all of the Marauders were available, they'd go to public places and map out every single individual part of the room. On sunny days, they mapped the courtyards. It was time-consuming, to be sure, but Remus was glad that James had something to keep him busy while he struggled to forego speaking (because speaking was likely James Potter's favorite thing to do).
They decided not to map out any forbidden places, though—mostly because it was impossible to communicate with Peeves, who couldn't write. Talking of Peeves, he had gone all out with the Zonko's products that James had stupidly bought for him, and it was terrifying.
March twenty-third was a Sunday, and Remus woke up at around nine am. He sat up, stretched, yawned, and began to get dressed. None of his friends were in the room—there was a Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw Quidditch match that day at noon, and James was probably doing some last-minute practicing.
With another massive yawn, Remus grabbed James' Invisibility Cloak and wandered downstairs. He figured the Great Hall would be rather crowded, so he planned to sneak out to the Kitchens and eat there—but, upon passing the Great Hall on his way to the Kitchens, Remus realized that the common scents of students no longer emanated from the place. He smelled food, yes, but he didn't smell any people. That was odd. Perhaps they were all at the pitch already.
Remus entered the Hall, Invisibility Cloak firmly stuffed inside his satchel. Indeed, the Hall was completely empty, although food still remained on the tables.
Remus shrugged and reclined at the typical Marauder table, pulled out the Alexander Adamson book that his parents had given him (it was actually very good, and Remus was on his fifth reread), and munched on some toast as he read. He'd never eaten in an empty Great Hall before, and it was remarkably peaceful. After a nice breakfast, Remus went down to the Quidditch pitch to see what was going on... as soon as the Quidditch pitch was in sight, though, his mouth dropped open.
It was no longer a Quidditch pitch. It was a giant spiderweb.
He walked as quickly as his legs would allow him, ignoring the biting wind on his face. Vaguely, he remembered coming across an Acromantula during a Forbidden Forest excursion back in his second year. Had the pitch been invaded by giant spiders? As Remus drew closer to the pitch and observed the soundless chaos, however, he came to the conclusion that it had not been a giant spider. It had been a far bigger, more terrifying nuisance.
Spiderwebs covered the pitch, stretching from goalpost to goalpost, coating the stands and caking the ground in spools of sticky threads—they crossed each other in the sky, forming wavering yet elaborate hexagons—strands floated in the air, fluttering in the breeze—the only reason the strands of the web were visible at all was that they were so hugely thick and intertwined. Panicking Gryffindors on broomsticks were caught in the strands; other students watched from a distance, mouths open (except for Peter and Sirius, who couldn't have opened their mouths if they tried, thanks to the firm Sticking Charms keeping the Mandrakes in).
And, floating in the middle of it all and laughing, was Peeves.
Remus watched the Hogwarts professors shout at Peeves, and he watched Peeves shout back. He wished he understood what they were saying, because it looked highly amusing. He located James, who was entangled in a rather large web and was glaring at Peeves. If looks could kill, Peeves would be—well, not dead, because he wasn't really alive to begin with, but he would definitely be indisposed for a while.
Suddenly, Remus felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and spun around. Professor Leek was standing behind him, a piece of parchment in hand—he awkwardly handed it to Remus, who took it with a grateful smile.
I figured you might want to know what's going on. Peeves somehow got ahold of some Zonko's equipment. Mr. Filch is furious, of course, because Peeves has been using it to wreak holy havoc all day. There were alarms in the Great Hall this morning, all the lights went out in the school for about an hour, and spiderwebs invaded the Quiddditch pitch while the Gryffindors were practicing. The things Peeves can do with a few joke products is monstrous, isn't it? The Quidditch game has been cancelled until further notice. Are all the lights back on in the school?
Remus nodded slowly, and then Leek shouted something into the fray: immediately, most of the students began running for the castle, apparently terrified of the laughing Peeves.
Remus, however, stayed behind with his friends and the stuck Gryffindor Quidditch team, watching with a mild sort of horror. Flitwick and McGonagall were trying to get the team unstuck, but they never got very far before Peeves dropped buckets of water on their heads or threw bananas at them.
It was about twenty minutes before Flitwick and McGonagall managed to get the webs entangling the Quidditch team cleared, and the seven disgruntled athletes, still covered in threaded remnants, began to make their ways back to the castle. James met up with Remus, Sirius, and Peter, a remarkably sour look on his face, and the four of them silently walked back to the dormitory. As soon as they had shut the door behind them, James dove for the notebook and began writing furiously.
I can't believe Peeves did that. I CAN'T BELIEVE PEEVES DID THAT. We had a deal, didn't we? He was meant to distract the teachers! He wasn't meant to GET QUIDDITCH CANCELLED!
"To be fair," said Remus, because no one was around to hear him speak, "That wasn't part of the deal. Peeves never promised to leave Quidditch alone—he never even promised to leave the four of us alone. He distracted the teachers when we had to sneak places, and that was all we ever asked him to do."
It's ALWAYS "part of the deal" to leave Quidditch alone! That's just a given! You can't cancel Quidditch!
"They just did. Might I remind you that I did warn you that something like this would happen? I said that Peeves couldn't be trusted. You, against my better judgement, enabled him to make life harder for everyone—including us. I was right."
As much as James Potter hated it when Quidditch was cancelled, Remus knew that he hated being wrong even more. And so, as soon as Remus gloated about being right, James straightened up and wrote, Well, at least it still benefits us in all the ways that count, eh? No harm done. The match will be rescheduled for next week anyway; Rolanda told me herself.
But, despite James' attempts to act peppy and confident, he ended up silently fuming for the next twenty minutes while Peter, Sirius, and Remus played yet another game of Exploding Snap.
James' Quidditch team threw him a massive party for his birthday, and every Gryffindor in the school was invited. Sirius went. Peter went. Remus did not go.
But it's my birthday, James complained via notebook. Don't you want to go to my birthday party, Remus?
"I'm not about to go to a massive party when I can't hear anything."
I can't speak, and I'm going to a massive party.
"That's not even remotely the same thing. I'm not going to that party. Have fun, though—I'm going to visit the Founders."
Oh, all right. We all know you're basically in love with Rowena.
"Gross! She's thousands of years older than me!"
Remus and Rowena, sitting in a tree… R-E-A-D-I-N-G!
"You're not as funny as you think you are."
You're right. I'm EVEN FUNNIER.
And, with that, Remus' friends left to help the Quidditch team prepare the massive party in the Gryffindor common room, and Remus snuck off to the Divination classroom.
Unfortunately, the Founders knew nothing about Remus' condition, so all three of them started trying to talk to him at once. Remus, overwhelmed, held up his hands and shook his head, forgetting entirely that he was capable of speaking (despite what he wanted the rest of his classmates to believe).
"I can't hear," he said loudly (though he didn't know how loudly), and everyone's mouths stopped moving. "Last full moon," he continued, now more quietly. "I hurt my ears and now I can't hear. It should be better by next full moon, but for now… well, if you have some parchment, that would be optimal."
After a while, Rowena waved her wand at the sky. Glowing blue letters appeared, floating about twenty-five centimeters above her head, but they were in Rowena's native language (she could speak modern English, but she couldn't write in it), so they were incomprehensible to poor Remus.
"Could you translate those words for me?" asked Remus timidly, and Rowena immediately complied.
Do you want to go to the library? the words said.
Remus chuckled. "Always," he said.
Helga and Godric ended up coming to the library, too, settling down on armchairs with their own books while Remus talked to Rowena fervently. "My friends are taking this opportunity to pretend to act out of solidarity for me," he said. "None of them are speaking, and Peter's pretending that he can't hear, either. He's actually pretty good at it. But it's not out of solidarity. They've literally glued their mouths shut with a Sticking Charm—I imagine you can guess why?"
The Mandrake leaves?
"Yes! So now they're using a Nutrition Charm instead of eating. They won't open their mouths at all, and they renew the Sticking Charm before it wears off. How can I sabotage their efforts now? Should I wait until the month is up and then steal the saliva-covered leaves when they've removed them?"
No. Definitely not a good idea, and not just because handling those leaves might be unsanitary, depending on how you do it. If they move onto the next step of the Animagus process without completing the first step or completing it incorrectly, then there could be disastrous results. It's a much better idea to continue sabotaging their first step.
"But how? I can't feed them anything, I can't use that exploding potion again… I can't do anything!"
You could try talking to them.
"Oh, that'll never work. Good communication and Marauders do not mix."
Rowena frowned. Then here's what I would suggest, if you really insist on secrecy: let them complete this step.
"But you said they could get hurt. That's the last thing I want. That's why I'm trying to sabotage them in the first place."
Do you know what the next step of the Animagus process is? Do you know where they have to put those leaves?
"Er… no, I forgot."
They have to put them in reflective silver phials—and immediately, too. If you find those reflective silver phials, they'll have nowhere to put their leaves—thus, they'll be required to start again.
Remus breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, why didn't I think of that earlier?" he said. "Yes, I can do that. Thank you so much, Rowena."
My pleasure. Do you fancy a game of chess? I hear students talking about it all the time, and I'd love to learn how to play.
"I suppose I could teach you," said Remus, and he and the Founders spent the next couple of hours fashioning chess pieces out of parchment and playing quick matches. Remus was disappointed to note that all three Founders, despite their newness to the game, beat him every time… but he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised.
Remus returned to the dormitory and started searching in earnest for the phials. It didn't take long—indeed, hidden in a special pocket in James' trunk (which he'd proudly shown off to the Marauders in first year, saying, "It's a secret little compartment!") were three expensive-looking phials.
Remus hesitated, turning one of the phials over in his hand. It looked terribly expensive—it even felt terribly expensive. The pressing weight in Remus' hand told him that it was possibly worth more than anything that Remus had ever owned.
He had to get rid of it. He had to put it somewhere where James would never, ever find it. But Remus was just about holding pure money in his hand… and even though his family were more well-off now that Professor Questus had left them all of his assets, Remus had still grown up adhering to the belief that money was precious and ought to be saved at all costs.
But his friends' lives were more important than money, weren't they?
Remus took all three phials in hand, donned the Invisibility Cloak, and went outside. He kept a close lookout as he crept across the grounds, and he worried that each of his steps was immeasurably loud. Finally, he reached the Whomping Willow, its branches and leaves waving in the breeze.
Remus pulled out his wand, whispered a charm, and prodded the knot in the tree with a levitating stick. The tree froze, just as it had so many times before, and Remus climbed into the tunnel. The Cloak kept getting caught around his feet as he walked, but he trusted it far more than a Disillusionment Charm.
He arrived inside the Shrieking Shack.
It was amazing how different it felt when it wasn't a full moon. Dumbledore had fixed it up already, so Remus didn't have to worry about stepping in dried puddles of his own blood, but it was still horrific in nature—almost more horrific than it was on the full moon. On the night of the full moon, the Shack seemed more useful, almost—more necessary. But today, now that Remus knew that he didn't have to be here, he felt more detached. Rather than the only intended habitant of a house that had been built for him, Remus felt like an outsider stumbling upon a house ravaged by a monstrous werewolf. And, ironically, Remus had never felt more like a monster now that he felt detached from the monster.
Remus breathed a heavy sigh that he could not hear, and then he quickly stuffed the phials inside a knot in the wall—he knew, at least, that it was a place that was impossible for him to reach come full moon. Even though Remus did not intend to return the phials, he felt better knowing that such expensive items would be safe.
And then Remus Lupin walked back to the castle, shivering in the chilly air, wishing more than anything that his friends were not so determinedly self-sacrificing and kind. It really was annoying sometimes.