Chapter Four: Scrabbling for Clues

The Gryfifindor boys were having to get up early every morning with the sunrise in order to point their wands at their hearts and speak the incantation "Amato Animo Animato Animagus", which was a vital stage in their becoming animagi (although Remus - who was attempting no such thing - stuck his head under his pillow and tried to ignore them). However, although Sirius and Peter would then return to bed for a last chance to grab forty winks before the trials and tribulations of the day started, James was grabbing his broom and heading down to the Quidditch pitch to get in a bit of practice before breakfast.

'Loads of people have had the same idea,' he told the others, over toast, once they had arrived yawning and sleepy eyed into the Great Hall to find him wide awake and slightly wind tousled. 'Anyone who's ever played for their House Quidditch team, even as a reserve, even as a last choice, is hoping to get onto the all school team. Wednesday's tryouts are going to be busy busy.'

'You still think you'll get a place on the team, though, don't you, James?' Peter asked worriedly.

But James shared none of his concerns. ''Course I will. I said there were loads of people there, not that there was anyone better than me.'

The first lesson of the morning was Muggle Studies, so Sirius and Remus headed to class, where they were currently learning about muggle literature and examining the lack of magic in the way the muggle characters solved their problems, while Peter and James headed to prep, intending to use this time to catch up on some Transfiguration homework due in during the next lesson.

They got out their textbooks, rifled through to the correct pages and then pulled out their essays. Peter yawned widely… then glanced sideways at where Snivellus was seated only a few rows away, his head bent so low over his parchment that his nose practically touched it. A curtain of greasy hair obscured his face.

Not really feeling in the mood for Transfiguration, after all, Peter grabbed his quill and then drew a quick sketch of a scrawny, hook-nosed greasy individual poring over its work. A moment later, he pointed his wand at the sketch, muttered the spell which would make it move and then, chortling up his sleeve, passed it to James.

James watched in delight as the rear end of the little figure began to expand, slowly at first and then ballooning bigger and bigger until its engorgioed rear caused it to topple off its bench. He guffawed. 'Nice one, Pete, I'm sticking that up in the dorm.'

But it was not meant to be. Madam Pince's beady eyes caught the pair of them sniggering, and she marched over to scrutinise what they were up to. Seeing the parchment she seized it, stared at it and then docked ten points from Gryffindor, telling them their behaviour was not funny and they were only lucky they had not drawn on a book, otherwise she would haven seen to it that they received a punishment so severe it would make Mr. Filch's threats to chain them up by their ankles look like a flight on a broom.

'To ruthlessly mock your classmates so,' she told them, 'it is unthinkable cruelty.'

Snape, by this time, had looked up from his own homework and, seeing the way the two unrepentant boys sniggered even harder when he looked at them, knew that - whatever unthinkable cruelty they had perpetrated - it had been aimed at him.

He waited until Madam Pince had placed the scrap of parchment on her desk and then wandered away to hover hawk-like over the shoulders of some unsuspecting Hufflepuffs, and then he whipped out his wand, muttered the summoning charm, and held out his hand as the parchment zoomed right to him.

He caught it and stared at the drawing, flushing in humiliation as he watched the little illustrated version of himself grow larger and larger around the backside until he toppled over, and he remembered all the times the loathsome Potter had done this to him for real. He was not sure which was more mortifying: the fact that Madam Pince had seen this picture at all, or the fact that - as grotesque a parody of him as it was - she had recognised it as being a drawing of him right away. He burned with embarrassment at the thought that Madam Pince, a woman who looked like nothing so much as an underfed and mournful vulture, thought he had a big nose and greasy hair.

Worse was to come, though, because Lily - who was sitting beside him - suddenly leaned across and asked, 'What have you got, Sev?' taking the picture from him before he could stop her. He watched in horror as she looked down at the drawing and saw, for one excruciating moment, her lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile (behind them, Potter howled with laughter as he watched the whole thing unfold).

But a second later, Lily had got her face under control and Snape wondered if he had perhaps imagined her smirk. 'I suppose Potter thinks this is hilarious,' she said, coolly, screwing the parchment into a ball. 'What an insufferable, immature toerag that boy is.'

Snape prodded the parchment with his wand and set it on fire. But when he looked up, Lily was looking over her shoulder - at Potter - and he could have sworn that faint trace of a smirk was back on her lips.

He wasn't going to let this lie and, when the bell rang for the end of the session, he grabbed his bag and strode after Potter and fat, little Pettigrew, his wand already drawn.

'You think you're hilarious, don't you?' he said to them, catching up with them in the Charms corridor. The two boys turned back to stare at him in surprise.

'Oh, hi, Snivelly. Yes - we are quite funny, I suppose.'

Severus practically hissed with rage. 'You pathetic cretin.'

'Now now, there's no need to name-call.'

He raised his wand 'Levi -'

'Engorgio!' a voice called out behind him, and he felt hot wand sparks hit him in the behind. He whirled around (his backside already swelling) and saw that he had allowed himself to be crept up on by none other than Black and Lupin.

He could hear Potter and Pettigrew hooting with laughter as his bottom ballooned up into gigantic proportions. His face already flushed, he staggered backwards, fell over and bounced straight back up again as his engorged rear acted like a trampoline. Potter was crying with laughter now.

'You know what I haven't done for a while?' Black said, with a sneer of malevolence on his loathsome face. 'Mutatio!' There was a boing noise, like the sound of springs, and suddenly Severus's robes had been Transfigured into a pretty, pink tutu - his now massive bottom emerged like buoys from beneath the skirt. 'And just for good measure: Petrificus Totalus! ' Severus seized up and keeled over, unable to move.

He lay there frozen, each buttock the size of a beach ball, and dressed as a ballerina. Barely able to stand, they were laughing so hard, the Gryffindor boys staggered off to their next lesson. 'You know,' he heard Sirius say, choking on his own laughter, 'sometimes the old hexes really are the best.'

James agreed. 'Keep it simple. Just like Sniv.'

Rage and humiliation such as he had never known coursed through Severus. Those foul, filthy little blood traitors, who would gang up four on one and then think they had won; who did not have the balls to cause real damage but still managed to inflict more hurt than they knew. Those four swaggering, bullying gits could cut you without making you bleed and - as he lay there with nothing to hope for other than he would unfreeze before anyone else found him - he swore he would get his vengeance on them. And sooner than they thought. He would cut them. And, Merlin, he would make sure they bled.

He heard the sound of footsteps heading back along the corridor towards him and - had he not been frozen - would have cried with rage and mortification at how he was about to be found. And then he heard a voice, a little bit shaky, say 'Dissuo' and his limbs unfroze, his tutu became robes again and his backside shrank back to his normal size.

He stood up, not wanting to meet the eye of his rescuer, though grateful he had not heard them laugh… and then he saw the patched robes, and the scuffed shoes, and the gangling arms, ending in a scarred hand holding a wand… and he realised it was Lupin who had come back for him.

He felt a surge of hatred more vehement than he had ever felt before, red hot fury which left him incoherent and foaming at the mouth. That this supposed prefect had let his friends torment him and then crept back to undo the damage. To keep them out of trouble. Oh he could not do his job and stand up to them when it mattered, but he would clean up their mess and stop them getting detention. He was, in some ways, the worst of them all. The coward. The one who pretended to be good but was no such thing. And Dumbledore, the old muggle-loving, meddlesome fool, had fallen for it and rewarded him with a shiny badge; while Severus…

He turned on his heel and walked away, not trusting himself not to blast Lupin into a million pieces if he stayed a moment longer. He would get his revenge on all of them. But Lupin… he would start with Lupin.

…

'You shouldn't have done that, Sirius,' Remus said out of the corner of his mouth, as he slid into his seat beside the others in the Transfiguration classroom. 'It wasn't fair.'

'What? He was about to hex James, wasn't he?'

'Yeah - alright, and hexing him once would have been OK, to stop him hexing James… but three times… and when he had his back turned. That wasn't fair.'

'And when he's a signed up Death Eater, I'm sure old Sniv will be really bothered about duelling fair.'

'When he's a signed up Death Eater you can hex him to your heart's content. But he isn't yet. And you shouldn't have done it.'

'Where's this coming from Moony? Is this a prefect thing?'

'No, it's a decent human being thing.'

Sirius looked outraged. 'It's Snivellus! If he was a decent human being there would be no need to hex him in the first place.'

'He hadn't done anything to hurt us.'

'Yet! He was going to hex James.'

And they continued to snipe at each other all the way through Transfiguration, where they made no progress in vanishing their slugs (though James had moved onto snails) and ended up losing five points to Gryffindor each because they weren't concentrating.

'I don't like fighting with you, Moony.' Sirius said, towards the end (though he still sounded cross).

'Then just admit you were wrong to hex Snape.'

'No.'

The bell rang, and it was time for break, and they had still not made up.

…

It was Defence Against the Dark Arts next, and they had finished with the Imperius Curse and moved onto the Cruciatus Curse ('It's not like I used that on him,' Sirius muttered though Remus seemed to find that cold comfort).

'It's not only indescribably painful,' Professor Carnarvon told the class, 'but it can have long term side effects and cause lasting, magical damage which even the best healers at St. Mungo's cannot repair. In the most severe cases, victims of the curse can lose all sense of self and be left unable to live independently, surviving in a permanent semi- vegetative state. This is why, although the Cruciatus Curse leaves no physical marks, it is classed as an Unforgivable.'

She looked very serious. 'There is only one other curse, which is not classed as unforgivable though perhaps it should be, which has what I would consider to be such lasting devastating effects on those exposed to it, and that is the Three Wise Monkeys Curse.'

Taking out her wand, she gave it a wave and conjured three little statues of monkeys, the first covering his eyes, the second his ears and the third his mouth. 'The three wise monkeys: see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil,' she told them. 'It is a three part curse, the first of which renders the victim blind,' she waved her wand again and the first statue vanished. 'The second renders the victim deaf,' (another wave and the second monkey dissolved into thin air). 'And the final, and most devastating effect of the curse: speak no evil, the victim's mouth is sealed shut… and once the final part is cast, the curse is permanent and cannot be undone.' The final monkey melted away.

There was a gasp from the students, a sudden intake of breath as every last one of them contemplated the hideous idea of having their mouths sewed up forever. Mary stuck her hand in the air, 'Why isn't that one of the Unforgivables?' she asked. 'It's more horrid than anything else you've taught us.'

'The Unforgivables were first classified as such in 1717 by the British Ministry. The Three Wise Monkeys curse was first popularised a little later, and originated in Japan. It was unheard of in Britain until the 1850s, when some English travellers witnessed it being used as a means of punishment against a Japanese dark wizard.'

Lily looked sickened. 'You mean their Ministry used it, the way we send people to prison? It wasn't a criminal act itself?'

'It is the Japanese equivalent of the Dementors kiss,' Carnarvon said. 'Officially used but only performed on the worst of the worst… though of course, just as Dementors are capable of kissing innocent people, so too can ordinary wizards cast this curse on anyone of their choosing. Personally, I would say any private use of the curse should be classed as an Unforgivable, however it would be a diplomatic nightmare if Britain designated an official Japanese punishment as "Unforgivable".'

She switched back to talking through the nature and effects of the Cruciatus Curse, then, but the class all continued to look appalled and did not really listen to much of what was said.

…

The boys were still feeling a bit queasy as they headed down to lunch (though that did not stop Pete from having a second helping of sticky toffee pudding).

'I suppose you starve to death in the end,' Sirius said, watching Peter shovel his pudding down. 'Once they've closed your mouth up.'

'No, I think you'd die of thirst first,' Remus said. 'I think you can last quite a while without food, but without water it's only a matter of days.'

'So it is a death sentence, that curse,' James chewed thoughtfully. 'Just a slow and really horrible one, where your last few days are a sort of waking nightmare.'

'I'd probably panic and suffocate in minutes if they blocked my mouth up,' Peter said through a mouthful of sponge and custard.

Sirius glanced at him, 'Yeah - you are a bit of a mouth breather, Pete.'

'Sod off.'

Across the hall, Mulciber, Avery and Snape (still shooting evil looks in their direction, though Remus thought he was completely justified to do so) picked up their bags and headed out.

'They've got Defence next, haven't they?' Sirius asked, frowning.

'I think so, why?'

'I just hope Carnarvon thinks twice about mentioning The Three Wise Monkeys curse to evil gits like them.'

…

Wednesday rolled around and - despite his brash words and constant practising - James did start to look a bit nervous as the day wore on. 'You'll be fantastic,' Peter told him. 'You have nothing to worry about.'

'It doesn't happen often, but Pete's right on this occasion. You will be fine, mate - and we'll all be there to cheer you on.'

Remus nodded in agreement, though the full moon was creeping up on them and his bones were starting to ache and he would have much rather spent the evening in front of the fire, rather than on the hard seats of the Quidditch stadium. Nevertheless, when afternoon classes were over, the four of them made their way down to the pitch, the three non-players wished James luck ('not that you need it') and went to find themselves seats.

The stands were pretty packed, almost as full as a real game, as friends of hopefuls crowded in to cheer-lead and others just came along to be nosy.

Lily, Mandy and Mary were sitting not too far from the boys, there to support Petra in her captaincy and - although it was Petra who normally wrote up the Quidditch games for their magazine, Sabrina13 ( The Monthly Mag for the Modern Magic Miss ), today Mandy had a little notebook and a quill and was scribbling down her impressions of the tryouts, ready to publish in their next edition, which was due out the day after the full moon.

An owl fluttered into the stands and dropped a little scroll tied with a black ribbon into Lily's lap. 'Another Slug Club supper,' she told her friends. 'On Friday.'

Down on the pitch, Petra blew her whistle and gathered all the hopefuls around her. 'Thank you for coming out today,' she said. 'We're all here because we want to be a part of bringing glory to Hogwarts, and that means I have to choose players from every single house, no more than two from any one house - and that means that, in order to get a spot, you have to not only be the best for your position, but better than anyone else from your house trying for a different position. I know it's a stiff competition, and most of you will end up disappointed, and for that I'm sorry but, if we want to win this tournament, I have to put together the best possible team and that means no place for sentiment.'

She avoided the eye of Laila Flume, as she said this. Laila was the Hufflepuff seeker, and an excellent one at that, as well as being good friends with Lily's little group of Gryffindors, but she was also in the same house as Gwenog Jones - a beater who showed early promise of being world class. Unless things went horribly wrong at the try out, Petra already suspected that Gwenog and her brother, Emrys, would get the beaters' positions, and that meant there would be no room on the team for poor Laila.

'Right, I'm going to hit two chasers with one bludger - not literally - and start with the keepers. Everyone who is hoping to play as chaser, pick up a quaffle and get in the air. You will each take a penalty against every keeper. Both chasers and keepers are being tested here, so let's see the best you can do.'

Every house except Gryffindor had a keeper who wanted to try out (Gryffindor's keeper - Belvedere Johnson - had left at the end of last year). Ravenclaw, Angus MacDougal, was first up. He flew up to the three goal posts and hovered in front of the central one; the first chaser flew to the penalty spot and threw the quaffle at the left hand hoop. MacDougal just managed to get the tips of his fingers on the ball and batted it away. There was a smattering of applause from the stands. The next chaser took their penalty, and this time MacDougal lunged right and used his fist to punch the quaffle away from the goal, and the third penalty he actually spun in mid air and knocked the ball away with the tail of his broom. (Down in the stands, his friends began to whoop.)

Then James was up, a look of determination on his face. He squealed to a halt on the penalty spot, looked MacDougal dead in the eye, feinted left and then threw right while MacDougal blundered off to defend the wrong goal post. The quaffle soared through the hoop, and this time it was James' friends' turn to whoop, while MacDougal's friends groaned.

James flew away, looking very flushed, and the next chaser took up their position, MacDougal now looking more nervous than ever… But he managed to save the next one and the one after that.

In fact, James was the only hopeful chaser trying out who managed to put his penalty away against every keeper, and Sirius and Peter were becoming very raucous in the stands by this point. (Remus was cheering, but his bones ached too much for him to go really wild.)

After all the keepers had tried out, Petra moved onto testing seekers and beaters. There were only two seekers trying out - Laila for Hufflepuff and Sirius's brother, Regulus, for Slytherin (like Johnson, the other teams' seekers had left at the end of the previous year). Petra and the keepers threw golf balls into the air, thick and fast and as far as they could throw them, while Laila and Reg flew after them, attempting to catch them before they plummeted back to earth.

Meanwhile, the bludgers had been released, and the beaters were circling the pitch, clubs raised, trying to knock Laila and Regulus off their brooms while they tried to catch the golf balls.

Laila flew well, and caught most golf balls overall, but Regulus managed to swerve a bludger that had been aimed at him with particular skill by Gwenog Jones. (Sirius and Peter booed very loudly. 'Knock his block off!' 'This isn't a tea party, Jones, give it some welly!')

Finally, Petra sent the chasers back into the air and made them run drills with the quaffle - watching them pass and block and feint as they flew in whichever direction she yelled at them. After a while she reintroduced the bludgers, and the chasers had to continue their drills all while avoiding being unseated by flying cannonballs.

Her whistle blew, just as it was getting dark, and everyone landed on the pitch and gathered around her. 'You were all great,' she said, 'and I've got some difficult decisions ahead of me. Everyone here is good enough to be on the team and I wish I could play you all, but there are only so many places. I'll post the team list tomorrow morning. Thanks for trying out.' And with that, the Quidditch hopefuls dispersed and headed back to their dorms to take showers.

'You were brilliant,' Peter told James, as soon as they met up with him. 'The best out there. Petra will definitely pick you.'

'Do you really think so?' He looked unusually modest for once, and as if he wasn't quite sure of himself. It was rather endearing.

'No question about it, mate,' Sirius said, draping his arm around James' shoulders. 'If she doesn't pick you, Hogwarts might as well pack up now and not bother entering the tournament.'

James blushed and looked very pleased at these words… but he still spent a sleepless night that night.

…

He needn't have worried, however, and his friends were proven right. The next morning, as promised, Petra had stuck the team list up on the common room noticeboard. There was a big crowd gathered around it and Peter had to employ his sharp elbows to jab everyone else out of the way and get James to the front. And there it was, posted for the world to see:

The Hogwarts All-School Team 1975-76

Keeper

Angus MacDougal (Ravenclaw)

Beaters

Gwenog and Emrys Jones (Hufflepuff)

Chasers

Petra Linehan (Captain - Gryffindor)

James Potter (Gryffindor)

Sidhe Moran (Ravenclaw)

Seeker

Regulus Black (Slytherin)

James gave a strangled cheer, Sirius thumped him on the arm and - treating him like a conquering hero - the three boys gave him a guard of honour down to breakfast. His jubilation lasted all the way through porridge and the arrival of the owl post ('I'll have to write to mum and tell her,') and was still going strong through Arithmancy and Defence Against the Dark Arts.

By the time break rolled around, his new found modesty was wearing off and he was now extolling the virtues of his own brilliance ('Well of course I was the best out there; there was never really going to be any choice but to pick me,') and then, around the middle of lunchtime, he had self-congratulated enough to start think about other members of the team.

And that was when dismay set in.

'Regulus!' he said, sounding sickened. 'I can't believe I'm going to have to play on a team with that evil, little slime.'

'He is the slimiest,' Sirius agreed, cutting into his chicken and ham pie.

'And Laila was far better than he was.'

'Reg is a total ponce, a blind monkey riding its broom backwards would be better than him. We should have let that manticore eat him while we had the chance.'

'Just think of the hours I'm going to have to spend training with him.'

'Rather you than me, mate.'

'Maybe he'll get knocked out by a bludger in the first match,' Peter said hopefully. 'That'll show him.'

'It won't do anything good for Hogwarts' chances if they don't have a seeker, though,' Remus warned. But the others snorted at the thought.

'Who wants Hogwarts to win if there's a snot like Reg on the team?' Reg's own brother asked.

By the time evening rolled around, James was badgering Petra to reconsider the list. 'I just don't think it'll be good for team morale, having to look at Regulus Bowel Movements Black's smug git face all the time.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Potter.'

'No one wants to play with a Slytherin.'

'Well there has to be at least one Slytherin on the team, that's the rules. And it's Black. Get over it.'

'But he's such a ponce! He'll have no team spirit. I wouldn't put it past the Slytherins to work against the rest of us.'

'Then don't you think seeker is the best position to put a Slytherin in?' Petra asked him impatiently. 'He doesn't really have to do anything with the rest of the team. He just has to catch the snitch first.'

'But he's rubbish! He wouldn't catch the snitch if it flew up his sleeve.'

'Fine, if you don't want a Slytherin seeker, I can take Black out and put Montgomery in as a chaser,' she snapped.

'Excellent, thank you.'

'But it's you Montgomery will be replacing, as it's you who cares so much. Not me and not Moran.'

'Oh.'

'If you don't want to lose your place, shut up and stop pestering me. Because right now it's you that's not showing any team spirit - not Black.'

James opened his mouth as if to retaliate - but then he saw the furious glare on Petra's face, simply daring him to argue and see what she did, and caught sight of a rather amused smirk playing on Evans's lips. He blushed and stormed away, mumbling to himself.

'Tough luck, mate,' Sirius said, when James rejoined the others by the fire.

'How could she even think of firing me?'

'She was probably only bluffing… but, still … best not to test her. Reg or not, I think this is still cause to celebrate.'

'We could go to the kitchen and steal some cakes and pumpkin juice,' Pete said, looking up from his Herbology homework. 'Have one of those midnight feast thingies, like the girls had in first year.'

But James's eyes had lit up. 'Nah,' he said, 'let's go bigger than that. Let's have an unscheduled trip to Hogsmeade. Tomorrow evening. Friday night with Madam Rosmerta in The Three Broomsticks, butterbeers on me.'

…

The next evening they sneaked out of the common room after tea, bumping into Evans in the corridor as they did.

'Where are you going?' she asked them, raising her eyebrows at Remus, in particular, who was a prefect breaking curfew.

'No where,' James told her. 'Anyway - where are you going?'

'To the Slug Club.'

'Oh… right… well… don't let us keep you.' And he grinned at her and shooed her away. Still casting suspicious glances back at them, she headed away towards a staircase that would lead her down to the dungeons and, once she was out of sight, the boys scurried along to the statue of the one eyed witch on the fourth floor, tapped her hump with a wand and said "Dissendium" and then disappeared into the secret passage which the statue concealed.

The full moon was the very next night, and Remus was in agony - totally exhausted and feeling like his bones were on fire - as he followed the others down the passageway, slipping and sliding on the mud track and wishing he was back up in Gryffindor Tower, resting on his bed. He grit his teeth though, and didn't complain, but he was falling further and further behind the others until Sirius doubled back, ducked under Remus's arm, wrapped his own around Remus's back and said, 'Lean on me.'

'I don't need help,' Remus said, sagging gratefully against Sirius's strong bulk.

'I know you don't … but lean on me anyway.'

There was a spark of light, as Peter lit up his wand and peered behind himself into the gloom at where the two of them were now staggering along. 'Is he alright?' he asked.

'It's the full moon tomorrow night, we should have waited and come afterwards. He's all sore.'

'I'm fine, don't fuss…'

Miles ahead, and realising he was now all alone, James turned to look to see where everyone had got to. 'Hello?' he called back into the darkness. 'I'm celebrating all alone up here!'

'Insensitive git,' Sirius muttered under his breath, as he hobbled along supporting Remus's weight.

…

The secret passage opened up into Honeyduke's cellar, and it was with extreme caution that Pete (the most sneaky of the bunch) raised the trapdoor, allowed his eyes to dart around the room, taking in the boxes of chocolate frogs and tins of jelly worms which were stored there, and then announced that the coast was clear.

They scrambled up (Sirius giving Remus a leg up, while pretending to do no such thing), left the cellar, ducked under the counter of the shop and then dashed out into the street. The bell over the door jingled as they ran through, but they did not stop to see what Mr. Flume, the proprietor, made of that.

The sky was dark by now, the stars twinkling in the distance like silver pin pricks, and the boys could more sense than see the mountains which loomed over them. The lights were starting to go on in the houses though and - for all the street was empty - Hogsmeade still seemed inviting.

The Three Broomsticks itself was bright, busy and warm, with a roaring fire in the hearth and plenty of locals at the bar. The boys found themselves a table (ducking their heads so Hagrid would not notice them out of bounds and out of hours) and Sirius and James went to buy the butterbeers, leaving Remus to bask in front of the fire and let the warmth of the flames wash over him and ease his aching joints a little.

'Are you sure you're OK, Remus?' Peter asked him.

'I'll be fine.'

'You've got big, dark circles under your eyes… You look awful.'

'Thanks.'

'I mean - I didn't mean…'

Remus smiled. 'I know what you meant, Peter. I'm fine - really.'

…

At the bar, Madam Rosmerta was looking very suspiciously at James and Sirius, who gave her their jauntiest grins and ordered the butterbeers.

'You're not supposed to be here,' she told them.

James clapped a hand to his heart as if he was wounded. 'Surely you're not suggesting that we're breaking a rule?'

'Not us - not ever!' Sirius agreed.

Rosmerta's lips twitched as she fought down a smile.

'Besides - how can we be breaking rules when we have our own bona fide prefect with us?' James gestured to where Remus was now falling asleep in front of the fire.

'He already looks a bit worse for wear,' Rosmerta said.

'Nothing that good company and a butterbeer won't fix… Dumbledore's orders.'

She arched an eyebrow. 'Really? So if I call Mr. Hagrid over here…'

'Oh, there's no need to disturb Hagrid's evening,' James assured her, with a suave smile and a wink which made her snort. 'In fact,' he handed over some more money, 'buy another mead for Hagrid. On us. And get yourself something while you're at it. Just don't let him know we're here.'

She took the money and handed over the butterbeers. 'But don't you four be making a habit of this,' she warned. 'Or I will tell.'

A few rounds of butterbeer and a couple of hours later, they put their cloaks back on and headed back into the street (Hagrid was still sitting at the bar, but by now he was quite drunk and they were not troubled by the thought of him spotting them). The almost full moon shone down on them, making Remus shiver as he staggered along wishing he had stayed besides the fire. A moment later, Sirius's arm was wrapped around him again and, without even the energy to put up a token protest this time, he leaned against him and let Sirius support him all the way home.

They cautiously eased their way out of the one eyed witch's hump, checked for Filch or Mrs. Norris (or Peeves - who could bring Filch down them in moments by creating chaos all of his own) and then crept down the corridors, and up the stairs until they got back to Gryffindor Tower.

'Wildflowers,' they said to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who raised a disapproving eyebrow at their sneaking back in after curfew, but still swung open to admit them entrance. A moment later, they were through the common room, up the stairs and back in their dorm, congratulating themselves on successfully breaking out of the castle and with no one else being any the wiser.

…

Unbeknownst to them, the Fat Lady had not been the only witness to their late night return. After the Slug Club supper party had finished, Severus had walked Lily back to the tower. No sooner had Lily said "goodnight" and disappeared behind the portrait, then Severus had heard the loud tramping of teenage boy feet headed his way.

He had ducked behind a tapestry, not wanting to be found - a lone Slytherin in Gryffindor territory - and watched as the four boys, his least favourite people in the world, approached, gave the password and clambered inside. His eyes narrowed, and he wondered where they could have been so late at night, what they were doing, sneaking out, and why.

The moon shone in the window at him, and he looked at it carefully, chewing on his lip and noticing that it was missing just the tiniest slither to make it full. He remembered how Lupin had been leaning on Black, as if he was in pain, and he looked back at the portrait behind which they had vanished, scrutinising it as if the Fat Lady could give him the answers he sought.

The boys were definitely up to something, he thought. And if he could catch them at it - and get them expelled - then so much the better for him, so much the worse for them.

…

James slept late the next morning, after his night on the town (though not as late as Remus, who was still comatose long after James was up and dressed and had left the tower) and so he only had time for a hurried breakfast before he was due on the Quidditch pitch for the first training session of the all-Hogwarts team.

'Thank you all for your prompt arrival,' Petra said, frowning at him as he rushed into the changing rooms and took a seat. Regulus gave him a dirty look, and James replied in kind, sticking his middle finger up at him. 'We have a lot to get through,' Petra said, choosing to ignore them both for now. 'I've been speaking with Madam Hooch, and she tells me that some of the schools have a very distinctive style to the way they play Quidditch. Koldovstoretz, of course, play on tree trunks rather than brooms and thus their game is characterised by brute strength. Vimoksha use cricket bats which, frankly, give the beaters the ability to hit much harder and so their players tend to be nimble, trained to dodge the bludgers. Mahoutokoro train in adverse weather conditions and are renowned for their prowess because of it… And I'm not sure what characterises us,' she finished up.

'I know every house team plays a tight game - and we put a lot of focus on our chasers scoring, not relying too much on the seeker to win the match, but I don't know what style we are really known for in the international community. And neither does Madam Hooch. She just says we "play properly". Not having a trademark way of playing isn't necessarily a bad thing though. It means the other teams won't know what to expect and we're free - as a brand new team - to look for a style that really suits us. So…'

She looked around the room, just as James pulled his ears, crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue at Regulus. 'Stop that, Potter.'

'Yes, boss.'

'So… we're going to start with chasers' drills, practising different plays as we fly down the pitch and then trying to score past MacDougal when we reach him. Gwenog, I want you to concentrate on trying to unseat us as we play. Black, I will release a snitch for you, Emrys, I want you to concentrate on trying to unseat Black. Right… off we go.'

They headed out to the pitch, broomsticks carried on their shoulders, and Petra got the balls out. There were quite a few people sitting in the stands, ready to watch the first practice, and James gave them a cheery wave and took to the air, flying in loops to show off to the crowd. He was just coming out of his eighth dizzying turn in a row when (still upside down and hurtling towards the ground) he spotted Regulus, hovering in mid air, right where James' trajectory would take him as he turned upright again.

He banked a hard left, his broom staggering in the air currents, and only just managed to avoid both colliding with Regulus and falling off his broom (though a flyer with any less skill would have tumbled to earth) and finished his loop, though it was a ragged and ungainly one. There were some sniggers from the crowd, which made him flush with embarrassment.

Pulling to a stop he scowled at Regulus. 'You did that on purpose!'

'I'm waiting for the snitch.'

'You got in my way on purpose. You blocked me. I could have fallen.'

'You were showing off, I was minding my own business.'

'Tosser.'

'Prick.'

Petra's whistle blew. 'Potter, stop showing off and come and join me and Moran - we're going to practise the Hawkshead Formation.'

Still glowering darkly, James turned and flew over to his fellow chasers and was soon caught up in running drills, practising moves and taking shots on goal, but the whole time he kept one eye on where Regulus was circling the pitch, hoping a chance would come to get his own back.

That chance came about an hour later. The three chasers had just been getting their timing right on the Porskoff Ploy (where Petra flew upwards, holding the quaffle - which, in a game, would make her opponents follow her - before dropping the ball to James who would be directly beneath her fifty feet below. Before the other team even realised where the quaffle was, James would have passed up to Sidhe who would fly towards the goals, unchallenged by other chasers), Sidhe had managed to get the quaffle past MacDougal, who had lumbered to block the wrong goal. Petra had stopped play, handed the quaffle back to Moran, asking her to go again, and was coaching MacDougal through blocking the shot this time around.

James, meanwhile, was still idling down by the pitch. Regulus was soaring high above him - looking out for the snitch. But it was James, barely four feet from the ground, who saw the flash of gold first, a metallic shimmer and a whirr of wings not far from where he, James, was hovering.

He waited until Reg had spotted it (which took far longer than it should - useless git) and then, once Regulus was banked into a steep dive, hurtling towards earth at breakneck speed, James moved himself so he was directly above the snitch, blocking Reg's access to it.

Regulus only saw him a moment before the collision took place. His eyes widened in horror, it was his turn to swerve a hard left, but - not being half the flyer James was, he did not manage to stay on his broom. He tumbled the few feet down to earth, rolling over and over until he finally came to a stop, in an ungainly heap, spreadeagled across the ground. His broom drifted away. The snitch had vanished.

'You bastard!' He sat up and snarled at James, a look of venomous loathing on his not-quite-as-handsome-as-Sirius's face.

'I was doing my part in the Porskoff Ploy,' James said innocently.

'You did that on purpose!'

'Is that a fact?'

'Tosser!'

'Total incompetent.'

Far above them, the whistle blew again. 'Black - stop lying around and get your broom back, Potter - into position - we're going again.'

James smirked at Regulus, stuck two fingers up at him, and flew off so he was directly beneath Petra, ready for the play.

…

They practised for about half an hour more, until two figures strode out onto the middle of the pitch. One was Madam Hooch, and she was accompanied by a man they had never seen before. She blew her whistle, summoning the whole team back to the ground, and introduced the strange wizard. 'This is Jacob Scrabble,' she told them, 'The Head of Department for Magical Games and Sports, and the brains behind this tournament we're taking part in.'

Scrabble grinned affably and shook hands. He was tall, about 40 - with a few streaks of silver visible at his temples and in his neat goatee - with large, dark eyes and very broad shoulders ('I was a reserve keeper for the Chudley Cannons once upon a very long time ago,' he told them, 'but an ill placed bludger put paid to my professional career and I've been a pen pusher ever since.')

'He wanted to come and see you getting ready,' Hooch told the team.

He grinned again. 'Of course I'm supposed to be totally impartial, as a member of the Ministry and the chief organiser - but we're all hoping for a Hogwarts win, eh?'

'And we might get one,' Petra said, throwing dark looks at James and Reg, 'if one or two of our players can just learn to get along.'

'Well that's what this whole thing is about,' Scrabble said jovially. 'Getting along, reaching out and making connections. It's more important than ever in this Current Emergency Situation we find ourselves in - and I know Quidditch is the perfect opportunity for us to meet foreign wizards and really get our message out there to the international community, get their help… But if we can also grind them into a sticky paste and take home the cup, so much the better for us, eh?'

…

'He was alright I suppose,' James told the others at lunchtime, through a mouthful of mashed parsnips. 'He finishes a lot of sentences with "eh?", but he's passionate enough about Quidditch, and really thinks getting international wizards on our side is going to help in the war.'

'You know - I think I heard him saying something like that on the WWN over the summer,' Remus said, stifling a huge yawn and fighting the urge to fall face down asleep into his beef casserole. 'It was on the stupid show that Hopkirk woman does, "Peace Talks".'

'I wouldn't know anything about that, my mum and dad are not interested in listening to a bunch of halfblood Ministry officials talk about how to defeat their precious Dark Lord,' Sirius said. 'Old Walburga would have a fit of the vapours if she caught me listening to something like that - she'd kick me out of the house for seditious behaviour.'

'Don't you have a whole load of naked girls charmed to your walls?' Pete asked. 'She hasn't kicked you out over those.'

'Give her time.'

Remus frowned. 'I didn't know you had naked girls stuck up in your room, Sirius.'

'Oh - er -' (Sirius blushed) 'they have their underwear on… James sent them to me. I only have them up to upset my mum, honestly!'

'Sure you do,' James said, giving him a sly wink. Sirius ignored him and turned back to Remus.

'How are you feeling?'

'I'm going back to sleep for the afternoon. It'll all be over this time tomorrow, I've just got to hold onto that.'

'Speaking of things that'll be over, we need to take our mandrake leaves out tonight,' Sirius said, turning to the others. 'So let's grab the silver spoon and go get the dew this afternoon, while Remus is asleep.'

'I can't wait to have this thing out of my mouth,' Pete grumbled. 'It's such a pain.'

'Yeah well, this is the last time you'll have to do it. Because this time we're getting it right.'

…

So that afternoon, Sirius, James and Peter headed out with a silver spoon (for Sirius) and broomsticks (for the other two) and crept into the Forbidden Forest to find three teaspoonfuls of dew in a place where sunlight or human feet had not touched. (They had collected this dew many times, and knew exactly where to go by now, so the expedition did not take long.)

Meanwhile, Remus went back to the dorm, lay on his bed and immediately fell into a shallow and restless sleep which lasted many hours but did not leave him feeling refreshed upon awakening.

When it reached a quarter past seven, he bid his friends goodbye and made his solitary way to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was waiting to escort him to the Whomping Willow, the murderous tree which guarded the secret passageway which led to his prison for the night.

He crossed the grounds, as the sun began to set - sending its crimson rays across the sky, turning it blood red, while the forest ahead lay cast in dark shadows; Madam Pomfrey pressed the knot in the base of the willow with a long stick, the tree froze and Remus slid through the gap and stumbled and staggered his way down the tunnel, all the way to the Shrieking Shack.

He did not know that he had been observed as he crossed the grounds, or that an enemy was out that night: snooping, testing a theory and looking to destroy him. But he was not the only student out of his dormitory past curfew. Severus Snape had also left the confines of his common room, climbing up the stairs away from the Slytherin dungeon until he found a window which overlooked the sweeping lawns and the lake path, right down to the edge of the forest, where the Whomping Willow stood.

Last summer, he had watched Madam Pomfrey and a boy he strongly suspected was Lupin leave the castle and head for the willow on the night of the full moon. A while later, Pomfrey had returned alone. This was not the first time Severus had seen this happen; he had witnessed the same things almost four years ago to the day, when they were still tiny first years and brand new to the castle. They had barely been at school for a week, and Lupin was already out of bounds and going somewhere secret.

Severus suspected this had continued to happen every month since, he suspected it only happened on a full moon… and he had left the Slytherin common room tonight to test that theory.

Sure enough, he had not been at his post for very long at all when the two figures made their appearance walking down the grass towards the trees. Madam Pomfrey was easily identifiable by her headdress. Lupin was easily identifiable by how loathsome he was. They grew smaller and smaller until they reached the willow, and Severus could not quite make them out - and then Madam Pomfrey returned alone.

Grinning in satisfaction, Severus left his lookout and headed back to his dorm.

…

That night Remus howled away in the shrieking shack; James, Sirius and Peter removed the mandrake leaves from under their tongues with as much relief as triumph, mixed them with the dew, a hair from their heads and the moth chrysalises they had bought from Slug and Jigger's, and then stashed their potions in James's bedside cabinet; and Severus slept the sleep of the righteous, the deep and restful sleep of a man who had been proven right and was about to get everything he had ever wanted.

The next morning, Remus woke up face down, naked and covered in scratches on the hard floor of the shack, and only just had time to throw some robes on before Madam Pomfrey came to fetch him. As always, he had destroyed the little house in the night, smashing up the furniture, ripping and tearing at the cushions and curtains, and gouging deep scratch marks into the floor.

Madam Pomfrey righted everything with a wave of her wand (though continual monthly destruction was starting to make the shack look slightly the worse for wear and her magic could no longer fix everything so it was like brand new) and then the pair of them headed back up to school.

They were not the only people up and about while everyone else slept, however. After the success of the previous night, Severus had risen early and sneaked to the same window once again. He watched, with growing satisfaction, as two figures appeared by the willow, tiny and distant, and started making their way back towards the castle. The boy was limping slightly. There was now no doubt the boy was Lupin; now he was walking to the castle, rather than away from it, his face was clearly visible in the early morning sunshine.

Severus smiled in triumph.

Lupin did not appear at breakfast (not that Severus had expected him to, he always missed a day of lessons every month, and Severus assumed he spent it in the Hospital Wing) but the other three were there, blithely discussing Quidditch and homework and not even seeming to notice that one of their number had mysteriously vanished.

Once they were done with their porridge, the three of them picked up a copy of Sabrina13 and headed out of the Hall. After a moment's deliberation (getting caught by them could definitely prove dangerous) Severus got up and scuttled after them.

Keeping his distance, and occasionally having to hide behind suits of armour and tapestries if any of them ever happened to glance back, he followed them up the stairs and along corridors and up yet more stairs until eventually they reached the Hospital Wing. The three boys went inside, the door closed behind them and Severus itched to know what was happening just beyond.

Seized by a sudden idea, he hopped behind a statue of Aelfgytha the Unimpressed (who had her arms folded across her chest and a stony expression on her stony face) and pointed his wand at his face, Murmuring a hex, he was hit squarely in the nose by hot wand sparks, and then bit his lip to stop a moan of pain as he felt pustulant boils erupt all over his skin.

Oozing pus, he headed for the Hospital door, knocked on it and then staggered inside.

The three boys were gathered around a bed, in which Lupin was lying, wearing pajamas and holding Lily's daft magazine.

The loathsome toads all burst out laughing when they saw him.

'Who did that to you, Sniv?'

'We want to give them a medal.'

'You look better that way, honest.'

But he didn't care, because he had seen what he had come looking for. Madam Pomfrey came over to him, tutted when she saw the red craters which now made up his face and ushered him onto a bed. Then she shooed the three boys out of the room (all three of them still beside themselves with mirth). The door closed behind them, Madam Pomfrey bustled off to get some cream for Severus's boils and the two invalids, left alone on the ward, looked at each other.

Severus stared at Lupin, long and hard and dead in the eye. And then - boils or no boils - he smirked .