Chapter Five: Hooked on Revenge

On the night of the full moon, as Remus howled away in the Shrieking Shack, the other three Gryffindor boys tried once again to place a mandrake leaf under their tongues. 'I think,' Sirius said, very carefully, 'that if you keep your teeth gritted, it's easier to talk with your tongue staying more still.'

Peter clenched his teeth together. 'Doesn't make sleeping any more easy, though!'

'Or yawning!' James added.

But there were 28 more nights to go, and complaining would get them nowhere, so they went to bed and hoped for the best.

The next morning, Professor Malidictus was less than impressed that Remus was missing once again. 'For Merlin's sake,' he snapped when he was met with silence on the register. 'I've never known someone be absent from school so often.'

'You've only been teaching for a month,' James said.

Malidictus ignored him. 'If he is too ill to attend school then he should not attend school. And if he is malingering…'

'He's not malingering ,' Sirius said ("malingering" - it turns out - is a very difficult word to say with a mandrake leaf stashed under your tongue, but righteous anger got Sirius through the worst of it).

'Then he had better learn that it will not be tolerated in my subject,' the professor continued as if there had been no interruption. He continued the register and then started a lecture on the proper use of counter jinxes. The three boys all stewed and seethed in the back, but the rest of the class listened with rapt attention and left at the end of the double period excitedly discussing wand movements.

At break, the boys went up to the Hospital Wing to visit Remus. They did not feel the need to tell him what a knob Malidictus was being, and instead brought him some Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and a copy of Sabrina13.

Remus spent a happy enough afternoon taking chances with the beans and flicking through the magazine - stopping to read with interest Lily's rebuttal to Selwyn's "Planets of Blood" speech (she did not pull any punches) and then turning over to "Make the First Move - How to Get Him to Kiss You in the Corridors" (that was quite an interesting read too - and he wondered how Sirius would react to the eyelash fluttering and heavy hints which were surely coming his way).

He was allowed to leave the Infirmary shortly after tea time and made his way back to the dorm, where he found his friends involved in a bitter competition of complaining as to who was finding it the most difficult to keep a mandrake leaf under their tongue.

'You know you don't have to do this,' he told them, with a wry smile. 'I appreciate the effort - but it's still madness. And dangerous… And illegal.'

'We're doing it,' Sirius told him.

'Yeah,' James agreed. 'We've already suffered with the mandrake leaves - if we give up now then it was all for nothing.'

Remus shrugged and left them to get on with it.

He was greeted with a frown on Monday's Defence lesson. 'That's a detention, Lupin,' Malidictus said, 'being absent is no reason not to hand in homework.'

'But I have the homework!' He proffered his essay on shield charms (Sirius's notes had been very comprehensive and Remus was, after all, the best in the year at Defence; he had easily caught up on the work he had missed). Malidictus snatched the essay from him, his eyebrows drawing into a frown, and made a 'hmph' noise through his nose.

When they got the homework back, on the following Wednesday, however, Remus's essay had a large zero drawn in red ink at the top of it. 'Detention, Lupin,' Malidictus told him, 'a woeful attempt - you can write it again for me tomorrow evening.'

He then slapped down Peter's essay on the desk. 'Very good, Pettigrew.'

Remus peered at Peter's mark - he had got seven out of ten. 'But… Peter copied my homework,' Remus said quietly.

'You should go to McGonagall,' Sirius told him, after the lesson was over. 'That's an unfair detention - he can't give you detention for being in the Hospital Wing and we can prove he didn't mark your homework properly.'

'Sirius is right,' James said. 'You can't let him get away with this. Big Macca'll sort him out.'

But Remus shook his head and sighed. 'No - it's fine. He clearly has it in for me and running to Big Macca won't make him treat me any better. Maybe he's recognised my name - maybe he knows who my dad is, and is taking it out on me.'

'Do you think he… knows ?' Peter whispered. 'About you - I mean. Some of the teachers do.'

'You think he's treating me badly because I…' he trailed off, not wanting to say it in public.

'Have a furry little problem,' James finished up smoothly.

'That.'

'It could be…' Pete said.

But Sirius shook his head. 'Malidictus hates … furry little problems - isn't that what you said, Remus? And, according to Big Macca, Dumbledore hates Malidictus - only gave him the job because he thinks the post is cursed and wants him finished off. No way would he play fast and loose with secrets about your furry little problem or anyone else's, not around that arsehole. Malidictus is just being a knob … and you're being a martyr not going to McGonagall about that detention.'

Remus would not be moved, however, no matter how his friends cajoled him - and so Thursday evening saw him taking up his first detention of the year in Professor Malidictus's office to rewrite an essay which had been perfect the first time.

…

The start of October meant the start of the Quidditch season and soon James was having to balance homework with practice three times a week (poor Petra - who was also on the team - had her duties to Sabrina13 to contend with as well, and was often seen staying up late into the night trying to get everything done).

The weather turned nasty, around the same time. The skies were grey for days on end and rain shot like bullets from the sky and rattled on the window panes. Care of Magical Creatures - for those unfortunate enough to take it - was miserable (though Remus remained smug, snug and warm in prep), Flying was a nightmare on a Friday afternoon, but Quidditch Practice was worst of all - having to fly through the driving rain and howling winds just as it was getting dark.

It wasn't just the weather that was nasty though. Spurred on by Selwyn's speech, the students in the school who supported the aims of the Knights of Walpurgis were once again mounting their campaign against the muggleborns. Lily - as one of the most prominent and vocal muggleborns in the castle - was always a popular target, but she could more than hold her own - and any one who tried to hex her often found themselves limping away with their underwear magically pulled around their ears, or their nose hair growing uncontrollably. ('She's just so creative with her jinxes,' James said, as Natasha Perell suddenly sprouted a beard, which fell all the way to the floor, wrapped around her ankles and tripped her up. 'I don't know what you're laughing at,' he then snapped at his sniggering friends. 'I'm just saying…')

Others were not so lucky, however, and a seemingly endless parade of younger muggleborns found themselves stunned, tripped or jinxed on a daily basis. Callum Brown had to bunny hop all the way from Potions back to Gryffindor tower when he was hit with a leg locker curse by a passing Slytherin. 'They looked like him,' he said, pointing at Sirius, when Lily performed the counter jinx and demanded to know who had done this to him.

But the worst was to come on a Tuesday evening in mid-October, the Gryffindor team had the pitch booked for six o'clock and the Slytherin team had been out practising beforehand. It was almost dark, as the team made their way onto the pitch, and the battering rain was making visibility very poor.

'Can we make this quick, Beth?' Belvedere Johnson, the keeper, asked his captain (and girlfriend).

'If the weather's like this for our match with Hufflepuff, we'll need to be ready. We can't let a bit of rain put us off. There'll be no quick about it.'

'What is it about becoming Quidditch captain that turns previously rational people into fanatic slave drivers?'

Bethany ignored him, 'Everyone - on my whistle…'

The wind howled. 'Hang on, Beth - ' Jenny Price, the seeker, reached out and stayed her friend's hand. 'Look - there's something on the goalposts.'

The whole team turned to look, peering through the gloom. James could just make out the shape of something small hanging off the middle hoop, about thirty feet in the air. It was either being buffeted around by the wind or … it was something alive, and struggling.

Johnson swore loudly, 'that's a student!'

Jenny and the beaters ran off for Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, while the rest of the team mounted their brooms and flew up to the fighting little figure.

It was a first year, James realised (though he had already suspected as much) and an absolutely tiny one at that. She had been hung from the middle hoop by the neck of her robes - and all that was standing between her and plummeting to certain death was the fabric not tearing. A bludger had been shoved in her mouth, and the word "mudblood" was daubed across her forehead in paint.

There was more swearing from the team.

'It's alright,' Bethany said as gently as she could while battling to be heard above the wind. 'We're going to rescue you.' She directed Johnson to hover beside the girl and hold on to her while she worked at disentangling the robes, and sent James and Petra to fly beneath, to catch the girl in case she fell.

'Just hold still - we've got you.'

The girl's eyes were wide and terrified and she was half sobbing, half screaming through the bludger.

Once Beth had worked her free, Johnson pulled her onto his broom and, arms wrapped tight around her, flew back down to the pitch. The rest of the team landed beside him, and together they helped remove the bludger and comfort the little girl.

'What is the meaning of this?' they heard McGonagall's bark over the wind, Jenny was beside her - looking out of breath.

They all started talking at once: 'We found her hanging from the goalposts-'

'The Slytherin's must have…'

'Look what they've written on her forehead!'

'It's absolutely vile…'

Madam Pomfrey arrived, and took the little girl off to the Hospital Wing, to check her over and treat her for shock, and McGonagall took the whole team inside to interview them. They were dismissed once they had given their version of events and returned to the common room, very grim faced indeed.

James filled the others in on what had happened (and up in the girls' dorm, Petra did the same for an increasingly furious Lily) but the next day, no punishment had been meted out to anyone. It seemed like the Slytherin team had closed ranks and refused to admit to witnessing anything, the girl herself had been confunded and was unable to give her own account and - with no other avenues to follow - the investigation had simply petered out.

The only change implemented was that the head of every house would now have to be present at each Quidditch practice for their team, to make sure nothing like this happened again.

'But what are the chances of Slughorn even bothering to turn up to his?' Sirius asked scornfully, 'Especially in this weather. So all the other teams will be supervised and the evil gits that are actually guilty will have free rein to do what they want.'

James remained in a very dark mood - very unlike his normal, cheery self - for the whole of the next day. 'You didn't see it,' he told the others. 'You didn't see how scared she was - how easy it would have been for her to fall… You didn't see what they wrote on her head. It was sick.'

They had Charms after lunch, which they always had with the Slytherins now, and James was a barely contained bundle of rage throughout, glowering at every Slytherin who happened to catch his eye. They had been learning the summoning charm throughout September, but now they had moved onto its opposite number (the banishing charm) and, once he had got the hang of it, James banished all the cushions in his pile directly into Snape in such rapid succession that the other boy was knocked over and then hit repeatedly in the face by the landing pillows.

'I'm all for hexing Sniv - but he isn't even on the Quidditch team,' Sirius said. 'If last year is anything to go by, it was almost certainly my own dear brother who was responsible for what happened to that girl.'

'Yeah, well, Regulus Bowel Movements isn't here - so Sniv will have to do,' James said darkly. He summoned his cushions back with a flick of his wand and a quick 'Accio' - and then 'Depulso,' hurled them back at Snape, immediately knocking him off his feet once again. When he got back to his feet, Snape looked murderous.

Across the room, Muriel Gimlet and Zinnia Irving were partnered up and - despite having poor aim - were managing to muster quite powerful banishing charms. It was with no small amount of force that they managed to banish desks, chairs and, at one point, Professor Flitwick himself, while their pile of cushions lay untouched. With a flourish of her wand, Zinnia cried 'Depulso!' missed the pillow she was aiming for and sent Muriel hurtling across the room instead. Muriel crashed head first into the opposite wall just as the bell for sixth period rang.

'Out cold,' said Flitwick, peering down at the unconscious girl. 'Oh dear - I'd better get her to the Hospital Wing.' He glanced around the room. 'Boys,' he stopped the Gryffindor boys as they headed out of the door. 'Would you mind tidying everything away for me?' He levitated Muriel and then, with a 'Mobilicorpus', sent her floating towards the door; Zinnia followed after him, apologising profusely.

'Why do we get stuck with the clean up?' Sirius scowled.

'Because we're the most helpful and trustworthy,' Remus told him seriously, starting to stack the cushions.

That made Sirius laugh, 'well we should at least get fifty points for Gryffindor for doing this.'

'Ah yes - the noble sacrifice of cushion stacking, well worth hefty point compensation. We'll get five - tops.'

'And that won't make up for the ten we lose for being late to Herbology.'

James was still looking very sullen, and slammed his cushions down onto the pile as if they, personally, had attacked muggleborns in front of him.

The classroom door creaked open, 'Go on ahead, I'll just be a moment - I left my quill,' an unpleasantly familiar voice said to someone unseen, they all froze. Snape appeared in the doorway. An ugly look crossed his face when he saw them all standing there, but there was something a little like panic in his eyes. In a flash, his wand was in his hand and he had used the knockback jinx to knock James off his feet.

'Dirty sod!' James roared at him, from down on the floor; he had also grabbed his wand. 'Petrificus Totalus'. Snape keeled over and James scrambled back to his feet. The other boys watched in surprise as, still looking murderous, James grabbed two cushions and stuffed them up Snape's robes - so he once again looked like he had been hit with an engorgement charm right in the rear. 'Wingardium Leviosa', the still frozen Snape began to levitate. James flicked his wand 'Suspendio!' Snape was suddenly hung as if from a hook by his collar, his dangling shoes two feet from the ground.

'Come on,' James said to the rest, 'let's get out of here.'

They walked off, leaving Snape hanging, the cushions still shoved up his robe. 'James, mate, are you sure you're OK?' Sirius asked.

As they reached the door, the body binder curse wore off, and Snape started to struggle - like the little girl had struggled - but he was still suspended in the air by an invisible hook and could not get down.

'Forget fifty points for stacking cushions,' Remus said glumly, as they made their way to Herbology. 'We'll get fifty points deducted and a detention for attacking Snape.'

…

They did - in fact - get both. But this was not enough for Severus. Unfortunately for him, Flitwick was late back from the Hospital Wing and so - rather than being rescued from his humiliating predicament by a teacher - he had, instead, been discovered by the fifth year Gryffindor Charms class who were in there next.

There had been great uproar, and much mirth at his expense - the whole story had travelled around the school by teatime and, much to his chagrin, Sev found he had a new nickname to contend with, after the cushions… 'Severarse Snape.'

That evening, he hid up in his dormitory and seethed and stewed and played a thousand different revenge scenarios in his head - like one of those plays his dad watched on his muggle picture box.

He liked the idea of suspending Potter in the air, like had been done to him, only upside down - so his robes fell over his head and everyone saw his underwear, for maximum humiliation. He would have to see if there was a spell that could do that (and if not, he would have to look into how he could create one. He had been interested in spell invention ever since last year, when he had read Lord Voldemort's manifesto about pushing magic to its limits and doing things no one else had done before. It was his ambition - though he would not dare admit to anyone yet - to work for the Dark Lord and help him push the boundaries of spellcraft. He had already had some modest successes: 'Langlock' which glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth and a hex which made toenails grow really fast. He was working on a spell which could make it impossible to be overheard, but - with revenge in his heart and his mind on Potter - he now thought an extra focus on curses was called for).

But for now, he would take what he could get - and he determined to himself to keep an eye out for the next opportunity to get back at Potter.

…

The opportunity arose on Saturday morning, which was the first match of the season: Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff. James had cheered up as the week went on (the detention did not do much to dent his spirits - he was too used to getting them) and by the morning of the match he was almost back to his usual, exuberant self.

He got up, far earlier than the snoring slugabeds he shared a dorm with, pulled on his scarlet Quidditch robes, left a rude note to his friends telling them he was already up and off and they needed to shift their lazy arses, and went down to breakfast. The Great Hall was virtually empty and he ate his porridge and toast in peace and then wandered back out, thinking he would head to the stadium and get a flight in before the crowds started arriving.

The entrance hall was empty and so the sound of footsteps behind him made him turn around. Snivellus had just come up from the dungeons, there was no one around but the two of them.

'Alright, Severarse?' James said.

Severus flushed an angry red, waved his wand and then - suddenly - James was choking and gagging as his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. His eyes widened in shock and he brought his hands to his throat. But Snape was merciless. 'Petrificus Totalus'. James keeled over and, keeping an eye out that he was still unobserved, Severus dragged the frozen boy by his shoulders and stashed him in a broom closet. 'Colloportus' he said, once the door was closed, locking James inside.

He walked away, dusting his hands and smirking to himself. Potter would not have his wand on him, as he was going to play Quidditch … he would be trapped in that cupboard until someone found him.

…

Remus, Sirius and Peter wrapped themselves in their Gryffindor scarves before heading for breakfast. They read James' note, shrugged and decided that, if they were too late to catch him in the Great Hall, they would see him at the match.

…

James lay frozen in the bottom of the broom cupboard, seething. He could hear the footsteps of the crowd, making their way to the Hall and making their way to the stadium - but none were any the wiser as to where he was, and - unmoving and his with his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth - there was nothing he could do to gain their attention.

As he lay there, feeling ridiculous, a grinning face beneath a jester's hat poked through the wood of the closed door… shortly followed by the rest of Peeves, the school poltergeist.

'Potty wee Potter! What are you doing?'

James glared up at him and made some choking sounds.

'Is it a game? Do I have to guess?'

James wrenched his tongue free from the roof of his mouth. 'I'm trapped. Help me!'

'Trapped!' Peeves struck himself on the forehead, cackled, flipped himself upside down and peered at James from between his legs and then began to sing:

Poor Potty Wee Potter

Lying so stiff

If I wanted to help

You'd be out in a Jiff

But that's not for Peevsie

That's not what he'll do

He'll float away now

And leave you to stew

And then he blew a loud raspberry and melted back through the locked door.

'Peeves! PEEVES!' James yelled after him, he felt a tingling in his limbs that told him the body binding curse was wearing off and struggled to sit up. Once he had feeling in his right arm he started to pound on the cupboard door, but out in the hall Peeves started to wail, and crashed into a suit of armour, sending it smashing to the floor in a clattering cacophony which quite drowned out James.

Within a moment, Filch was there as well - bawling at the poltergeist, who kept up his wailing and knocked over another suit of armour. Between Peeves, falling breastplates and the yelling of Filch, James knew no one was going to hear him… and he slumped back, feeling desperate.

…

'What in Merlin's name is happening out there?' Sirius asked, pausing mid way to a bite of toast as he heard the suit of armour crash to the ground.

'Peeves and Filch,' Remus said, 'same old, same old,' and he continued with his porridge without so much as a glance at the doorway.

The shrieking and the clattering got louder. 'Well - we better get to the Quidditch pitch.' The three of them scraped back their benches and headed out, scurrying through the entrance hall so they did not get caught up in the chaos.

They entered the stadium, climbed all the way up to the top seats, where they would get the best view and waited… and waited.

No one came out on the pitch. Remus checked his watch. 'Is it me or are they late getting started?'

'At least the weather's cleared up a bit, today,' Peter said, eyeing the skies. 'It'd be miserable sitting here in the rain.'

Ten more minutes passed. 'Oh come on,' Sirius muttered, 'some of us have things to do.'

'What do you have to do?' Remus asked him, amused.

'Anything other than sitting on a wooden plank freezing my balls off.'

'Like homework?'

'Well, I wouldn't go that far…'

Finally the teams came out on the pitch. 'Am I imagining things…' Sirius said, narrowing his eyes, 'or is Gryffindor short a player?'

Remus looked. Sirius was right, there were only six players in scarlet robes on the pitch. Bethany Ellshaw looked frantic.

'It's James,' Peter said, sounding worried. 'James is missing.'

Sirius swore, and swiped the omnioculars from Pete, training them on the team. He swore again. 'Pete's right.'

'Well where is he?'

'He wouldn't miss the match - something must have happened…'

Madam Hooch's whistle blew, the thirteen players rose into the air - and, within a moment, Hufflepuff had seized the quaffle and scored. And it did not get much better after that. The Gryffindor team fought like champions, but Bethany and Petra were no match against all three Hufflepuff chasers and - as if inspired by the loss of James - the Badgers played better than anyone had ever seen them before. Jenny kept her eyes peeled for the snitch, hoping to bring the game to an early close before they were too far behind, but it remained elusive.

'We can't just sit here,' Sirius snapped, after Hufflepuff scored their sixth goal. 'Anything could have happened to James - we need to find him.' So the three boys rose from their seats and shuffled along the row until they reached the stairs. They left the stadium to the sound of Hufflepuff scoring their seventh goal.

'Right, we should split up,' Sirius said to the others, charging up the front steps. The entrance hall was empty now, Peeves and Filch had vanished, the suits of armour had been put right. 'Pete - you head back to Gryffindor tower, I don't know why he'd have gone back, but check anyway. Remus - Hospital Wing, and I'll check the dungeons. Meet back here in…'

He was cut off by a muffled thumping coming from a broom cupboard. 'Did you hear that?'

'Sirius!' James' voice yelled. 'Sirius is that you?'

'James?'

They ran to the cupboard. Remus tried the handle, but it was locked.

'Snivellus cursed me and trapped me inside! I don't have my wand…'

'Alright, stand back,' Remus called. 'Alohomora.' The lock clicked open and James came tumbling through the door, looking very red in the face.

'Are you alright?' Sirius asked him.

But James just waved away the question, 'I need to get to the match.' He shouldered his broom, hurtled through the front doors and started racing down the lawn towards the pitch. But - just as he reached the stadium, a great roar went up from the Hufflepuff crowd. There was much cheering and clapping, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle again.

Laila Flume of Hufflepuff had just caught the snitch.

…

Gryffindor had been trammeled 220 points to zero. It was their worst first outing for a season in a hundred years and a gloom pervaded the common room for many days to come. The only flicker of light was that Severarse Snape had been docked 220 points by Big Macca - one point for every point Gryffindor had lost by, and Slytherin were currently in negative figures and even most of the Slytherins weren't talking to Sniv.

Both James and Sirius fell into a deeper depression, however, when the very next weekend Regulus managed to put right some of the losses caused by Severus, and had caught the snitch and ensured a victory for Slytherin over Ravenclaw. 'Since when could he fly?' James asked bitterly (the catch itself had been inspired).

'Since mummy dearest sent him to Quidditch camp all summer … won't even buy me a broom…' (Sirius was one of only two fourth years who rode a school broom - the other being Lily Evans).

The only other comfort James could find from the whole situation was that - despite having his tongue magically stuck to the roof of his mouth and having been shoved unceremoniously in a cupboard - he had managed to keep his mandrake leaf in place the whole time, so his plans to become an animagus had not been derailed.

'That would have been a step too far,' he told the others, as he sat on his bed and tossed FLP, his pet puffskein, up in the air and caught him again (FLP emitted a squeak every time this happened, but James assured the others that the puffskein loved it). 'One victory too many for Sniv.'

'We're getting closer to the next full moon,' Sirius said (though there was no need to tell Remus that, he felt like he had the dates of every full moon etched into his bones - and they flared with pain whenever the day itself drew near). 'We need to think about the next steps…'

'You need to be careful,' Remus said dryly.

But Sirius shook his head, 'We need dew .'

Peter looked uncomfortable. 'Are we going back into the forest again?' he asked. '... I'm not in a hurry to go in there again.'

'Relax,' James waved a dismissive hand, 'Pinchy is long gone.'

'Yes … but what else is Hagrid hiding in there?' (When looking for dew the previous year, the boys had stumbled across the lair of a manticore whom Hagrid had christened "Pinchy" - a monster who was no less terrifying for all that it was only a baby.)

'We'll be fine,' Sirius said, 'we've come this far already - so no backing out now.'

'The full moon is a week on Thursday,' Remus told them all, 'on Halloween,' (not content with making him miss out on the start of term feast, the moon had decided he should miss the Halloween one as well - but he absolutely was not bitter about it, not at all).

'Then we should go into the forest on Saturday,' James said… and so it was decided, and James and Sirius would brook no argument from the other two. A week before the full moon, Peter swiped a set of six crystal phials from the Potions classroom. They set three of the phials on the windowsill in their dorm, where the moon's rays would shine on them, and the other three were for holding the dew until it was time to make the animagus potion.

…

On Saturday morning they set out bright and early into the forest, James and Peter with their brooms over their shoulders. (The dew had to come from a place where no human feet had touched, and they were planning on flying in low to spoon up the dew. Remus was technically the second strongest flyer of the group, however he was quite severely allergic to silver and so in no hurry to get that close to the teaspoon. Sirius, having no broom of his own and no skill when he was on one, was grounded for the whole mission.)

They walked for a couple of miles down the winding paths, keeping a wary eye out for centaurs, thestrals and any new monsters Hagrid might have stashed away in secluded, dark corners, until they reached a place where the trees grew so closely together that their leaves created a thick, green ceiling through which no light could penetrate and the sparse grass was a sickly, yellowish colour strangled with weeds. (They gave Pinchy's old lair a wide berth, as he had been taken into custody by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures - and they had no idea whose feet had touched what down in the ravine).

'Alright, men - this should do,' James said, when he estimated they had walked far enough. 'You two,' he pointed at Sirius and Remus, 'stay on the path, don't even think about stepping off it. Pete, mount your broom.'

Peter and James straddled their brooms and then rose up into the air - just a few feet from the ground. 'Remember to tuck your feet up,' James instructed. 'Don't let your toes dangle in the grass.' Peter obliged - and wobbled a bit, before getting a firmer grip on his broomstick. They flew over to a distant patch of ground… and then James got to work.

It was a good job he was an excellent flyer. He had to guide his Silver Arrow one handed, while he swooped in low with the teaspoon stretched out trying to scoop up as much dew as possible. He had to keep turning and covering the same ground again, as he collected a spoonful drop by drop. And then - keeping his now laden teaspoon steady - he flew over to Pete, who held out the crystal vial for him to pour the dew into.

Then Pete flew back across to Remus and Sirius, while James went back to work, handed them the dew and returned to James. Remus put a stopper in the phial and stashed it inside his cloak.

'If one of them falls off their broom and lands on their arse,' Sirius said, watching Peter wobble around, 'do you think it still counts as a place "no human feet has touched"?'

Remus smiled. 'They'll manage it.'

And he was right - it took a long time, and there were a few precarious moments, but eventually James had scooped up three teaspoonfuls of dew and successfully tipped them into their vials, and Remus now had them all under his cloak. Feeling very pleased with themselves, the four of them set back off down the path and headed out of the forest.

There was a gaggle of giggling girls waiting by the front doors, when they returned. Remus tutted and stalked off - only to be surprised a moment later when Sirius caught up with him. James and Peter stayed to chat ('been out on my broom - you ladies should come to the stadium and watch me fly sometime…' ) but they arrived in the dorm, not long after the others, looking despondent. It seemed that they had struck out.

And there was a disconcerting moment at lunch when Bertha, the nosy seventh year, stopped by the Gryffindor table and squinted down at them. 'Did I see you all headed into the forest earlier?' she asked.

'No.' Sirius lied easily.

'What were you doing there?'

'I told you - we weren't there.'

She narrowed her eyes. 'Why are you talking funny? You sound like you have something jammed under your tongue…'

Peter's eyebrows rose in alarm, but Sirius kept his cool. 'Go away, Bertha,' he said, giving her the finger. She tutted and walked off with her splodgy nose in the air.

That evening they sat up in their dorm, Remus had the paper and was scanning it for news (there was another article by Mable Grable, this time ripping into both the goblins and the Ministry for the inability to work together and discover who was funding the giants, but nothing on Lord Voldemort, himself), Sirius was making them all celebratory toast on his enchanted toaster (there was lots of smoke but no flames, as yet) and James was boring them all silly, droning on about how amazing his flying had been that morning, while juggling both puffskeins.

The three dew filled phials sat on the window sill next to the three empty ones and the light of the waxing moon shone down on them.

…

Halloween fell on a Thursday that year, which meant Remus could snooze his way through double History of Magic, first thing, but then had to struggle through the nightmare that was Potions. He let Sirius make notes for him during Muggle Studies, was really more of a spectator than a participant during Charms and then slept his way through prep, while Peter arranged all his textbooks on the desk to hide Remus from view.

As it was the end of October it meant that the sun would set early, and the night would be a long one. And as it was Halloween, it meant that Remus could not go down to tea - eat early - and then head off to the Hospital Wing. Instead, he made his rather glum way to the Infirmary after prep was over - had tea there - and then headed for the Shrieking Shack just before all the others would be pouring out of their common rooms on the way to the feast.

…

Up in their dorm, the other three boys finally removed their mandrake leaves with no small sense of relief. 'Oh that feels so good,' Peter sighed.

James looked a little troubled. 'I think I've forgotten how to talk without it in,' he said, stumbling over his words now his tongue had so much more freedom of movement.

They each popped their leaf into an empty crystal phial along with a single hair from their own heads, and then poured the dew over the top of it. The next step was to add the Death's Head Hawk Moth's chrysalis to the mixture (James had got them all one each last Christmas) and then they stoppered the phials and placed them in the top drawer of James' bedside table.

Sirius put a locking charm on the drawer so none of them could open it by accident. 'Tomorrow morning we need to be up at sunrise to do the chanting,' he told them.

James groaned.

'Get used to it! Every sunrise and sunset until the next thunderstorm.'

'I hope it's soon - the early mornings will kill me.'

And - not looking forward to an early start, but determined to make the most of the evening anyway - they headed down for the feast.

The Great Hall was decorated as always by giant pumpkins, carved into jack o'lanterns, and live bats fluttered around near the enchanted ceiling. The ghosts put on their annual entertainment, this year serenading them all with songs about death, and the house elves did themselves proud, sending up dish after delicious dish until the tables groaned with the weight of so much food. The boys stuffed themselves with as many good things to eat as they could manage without bursting, and every so often shoved some of the best bits into their pockets to keep for Remus for tomorrow.

And then - sleepy and overfull - they made their happy way back to bed.

…

In her small house in Kidderminster, not far from the Museum of Carpets, Mable Grable turned down the lamps and lit the candles on the dining table. She put out her best china and tapped the napkins with her wand so they folded themselves into the shape of bats. Her three year old son was sleeping soundly upstairs, and her pet Kneazle, Sookie, was dozing by the fire … and Mable was expecting company.

She poured herself a firewhisky, took a drag on her cigarette and caught sight of the photo on the mantle of herself and Mr. Grable on their wedding day. With a sad smile, she turned it face down. 'I'm sorry, darling,' she blew out a stream of smoke - 'it's time to move on.' Mr. Grable had died before their son had even been born and Mable was getting tired of lonely evenings by the fire with no one but Sookie.

So she had invited Dempster Wiggleswade round for a Halloween supper. Dempster wrote an advice column for the Prophet - and also worked for the Department for Magical Law Enforcement. He was handsome and clever, the most eligible bachelor she knew, and very well connected in the Ministry. And, if she was going to marry for a second time, it may as well benefit more than just her evenings. Mable Grable was good at finding the story, getting the scoop and holding the government to account. Mable Wiggleswade - with her inside source - would be unstoppable. (And that would put that awful Skeeter girl, who had recently joined the paper and was snapping at her heels, back in her place.)

There was a loud popping sound outside and - thinking Dempster had just apparated in - she gulped down the last of her firewhisky, stubbed out her cigarette and checked her lipstick in the mirror. Her reflection frowned back at her, as she heard another, and then another popping sound - as if more and more people were apparating around her house.

'Morsmordre!' came a hoarse cry from outside, and suddenly the room was illuminated by a sickly green light. Upstairs, her son woke up and began to cry. Mable, whose heart was thumping rapidly in her chest by now, dropped her glass and was about to run upstairs to comfort her child when the front door was kicked down, and masked figures stormed inside, wands raised.

'Avada Kedavra!'

Mable let out a strangled cry, as Sookie collapsed in front of the fire - dead… And then one of the masked figures pointed their wand at her.