A/N: Thank you to my reviewers! You guys are awesome. Now please enjoy the last chapter of year 2.

Chapter 21 - 2.11 or "The Marauder History Books"

The Gryffindor Quidditch team steamrolled Slytherin in April, with James scoring three goals on the way to a final score of 210-40. The Lions would be playing Hufflepuff for the Cup during the second weekend in June, and James had suddenly become quite the hero in the Gryffindor common room as summer rolled towards them. Gryffindors of all ages – and even some students from other houses – had taken to stopping him in the corridors or at breakfast to compliment him on his performance, and James quite enjoyed the attention.

Thus, and despite Sirius's protestations, the final term of the year found the Marauders with very little time for discovering a way to sneak into the girls' dormitory. James's Quidditch practices had become even more intense and frequent than they had been before, and he often wouldn't return to the common room until well after curfew, dirty and sweating and exuberant at the excuse to spend so much time in the air. Along with the Quidditch practices, they had to contend with the uptick in homework as exams approached, and spent any spare time they could find in the fourth-floor secret passageway, trying to turn into animals at will.

The Animagi project was not going particularly well. The excitement of taking the potion and experiencing their Forms had worn off as James, Sirius, and Peter moved into the next phase of the process – attempting to control their minds to connect with their Forms. The books did not have very clear instructions on how this was supposed to be accomplished, and many evenings were spent in frustrated silence in the pillow-lined alcove, all three boys sitting with their eyes closed, wondering if this was not all a gigantic waste of time.

"This is ridiculous," said Sirius loudly from his perch on one of the squishy cushions one evening in mid-May. James and Peter opened their eyes and Remus looked up from his Transfiguration essay. "We've been at this for weeks and all I can connect with is the idea that our time could be better spent learning all of those spells that we'll need."

James stood up, stretched, and began pacing, which had become a common occurrence. "The book says the spells come after this, though. It says to not cloud your connection worrying about the incantations."

"I know what it says," groaned Sirius. "But sitting here like this every night is driving me mad. I want to do something."

"That's exactly what you're trying to avoid," explained Remus. He pulled Animated Animagi into his lap and flipped to a dog-eared page before reading aloud, "Connecting with your Form is often considered the most trying aspect of the Animagus process and, indeed, becomes the downfall of many would-be Animagi. The focus must be singular and decisively simple, turning attention away from all distraction and thought to consume oneself with one's Form so entirely that one is removed from the present and instilled into the consciousness of the Form-state."

"Well that's all well and good and not at all vague," muttered Sirius, rolling his eyes.

These conversations became commonplace among the boys, with Remus trying to placate an impatient Sirius, a dissatisfied James, and a confused Peter, and he himself feeling guiltily disappointed at the idea that this whole Animagi thing might never actually come to fruition. Yet, despite the frustration, they persisted, sneaking off to the passageway whenever they had a spare hour in the evenings to sit and try again.

By the time June rolled around, though, they had to stop their practice all together, as preparing for exams was taking all of their spare time and James was so focused on the Quidditch Final that the idea of 'consuming himself with his Form' was laughable. Then, on the day before the match would take place, something happened to distract them all thoroughly.

The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw second years were sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, murmuring idly while waiting for Professor Philpott to show up late, as always. Remus had his nose in his textbook, trying to use the extra time to squeeze in a few additional minutes of studying, as he would be missing two days of lessons the following week for the full moon. Peter was quickly scribbling down the homework he had forgotten to finish the night before. Sirius was talking happily with Emily Cagle, a small blonde Ravenclaw girl, while James doodled Quidditch plays on a bit of scrap parchment. All of the chatter ceased the moment the door burst open and Professor Philpott stalked in, glaring around at them all.

After the usual routine of Philpott insulting them and collecting their homework papers (Peter furiously scribbling down one final answer before sighing dejectedly and handing his in), Philpott began his lecture.

"Now," he began, reaching a finger into one of his overlarge ears and scratching it distractedly. "As you are well aware, your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam will take place exactly two weeks from today. The first half will be a written portion, wherein you will undoubtedly disappoint all of wizardkind with un-researched and flimsy half-answers that I will be forced to suffer through reading. The second half will be practical, and you will attempt to show me all of the defensive spells you have learned this year."

There was a great deal of muttering at this news and several of the Ravenclaws looked around at one another, panicked.

"Wait, what?" said a Ravenclaw called Lionel Marigold loudly. "But you haven't taught us any defensive spells this year!"

"Of course I have," said Philpott, narrowing his eyes at Lionel. "What do you think I've been trying to teach you all year? Why do you reckon I've had you copy down notes during every lesson, if you were not expected to be practicing the defensive spells in your spare time?"

"You never said anything to us about practicing spells!" said Lily angrily. "You never once mentioned that there would be a practical bit to our exam!"

Philpott leered nastily at her. "I expected you all to be able to infer, Miss Evans…to use those tiny, shriveled up, discarded brains of yours and to read between the lines."

There were several hurried, angry whispers at this, with many of the students now looking at Philpott with horrified, mutinous expressions. Remus glanced at Sirius, who looked uninterested and haughty; no doubt, Sirius would be able to perform all of the spells easily already. James, on the other hand, had his eyes narrowed at the professor and utter dislike stretched across his features.

"You're supposed to be our teacher," James said loudly. "How are we supposed to know all of this unless you teach us?"

Now looking impatient and more irritated than usual, Philpott did not remove his sneering gaze from James. "Fine. If you're all too dim-witted to figure this out on your own, let's have a practical lesson, shall we, Mr. Potter?" The students straightened, suddenly more interested, and Philpott paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. "Pettigrew!" he barked, not taking his eyes off of James for a long, taunting moment. Peter squeaked in surprise and almost fell out of his chair. "Up here, now! You will be our demonstrator."

Every eye in the class watched as Peter pulled himself from his chair and stumbled to the front of the classroom, looking as though he would like nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Remus watched in horrified fascination, wishing there was something he could do to help his friend, but his mind was blank.

"Now, Pettigrew," said Philpott, a cruel smile twisting his mouth, "disarm me."

"W-what?" said Peter, glancing toward the back of the room where his friends sat, as if hoping they would come to his rescue.

"Disarm me," repeated Philpott. "I will not block it. Even someone as dense as you should be able to handle such an elementary spell."

From his left, Remus heard Sirius growl in anger; on his right, James was breathing deeply, his back straight and his fist clinched tightly around his wand. There was little doubt in Remus's mind that Philpott had targeted Peter specifically so as to teach James a lesson for speaking out against him.

Apparently realizing that there was no way to get out of the situation, Peter pointed his wand at the professor, his hand shaking. "Expelliarmus!"

Nothing happened. The students watched in silence as Philpott laughed cruelly and Peter lowered his wand, dejected.

"Pathetic," said Philpott. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, Pettigrew, and if you perform like that on your exam, you will fail this class. Now get out of my sight."

Peter hurried from the front of the classroom, appearing close to tears. Remus tried to give him a sympathetic look, but it went unnoticed as Peter shuffled past him and into his seat. A ringing silence echoed around the classroom as Philpott gave them all a cruel smile, as though vindicated.

"Let's hope the rest of you will take this lesson to heart and conduct yourselves less pitifully than your classmate during your –"

Philpott cut off when his wand flew out of his hand and landed with a clatter on the floor near the door. Next to Remus, James was pointing his wand at the front of the room from underneath his desk. Philpott looked startled and hurried over to pick up his fallen wand, but as soon as he reached down to grab it, the wand soared between his fingers and hung tauntingly over his head, just out of reach. Remus caught James's eye and shook his head at him – James would surely get expelled for this – but James just grinned, shrugged at a suddenly-entertained Sirius, and continued making the wand float in front of the class.

"What in the… Who is doing this?" roared Philpott. He glared around at the students, many of whom were trying to suppress broad grins, but from his vantage point at the front of the classroom, there was no way he would be able to see the wand underneath James's desk. "I order you to stop it at once!"

The wand was now bobbing along above Philpott's head in a comical manner and he started waving his arms in the air and jumping up and down to try to grab it, looking more and more buffoonish as the seconds wore on. The class was laughing loudly now, and Philpott looked murderous. He composed himself, straightened his robes, and grabbed Mary's wand from where it was lying innocently on top of her desk in the front row.

"Accio!" he said, pointing Mary's wand at his own, which zoomed into his hand at once. The laughter died down and James slid his wand into his robes, fixing his face into an innocent expression that Remus was more used to seeing on Sirius.

"Who was responsible for such…such insubordination?" Philpott bellowed, spittle flying out of his mouth and onto Mary's desk.

"Haven't you heard?" James answered calmly, and Remus wanted to physically reach over to cover his friend's mouth with his hand. "The castle's haunted, Professor."

He said it so innocently and casually that an ignorant person may not have even suspected James to be the guilty party. Luckily for all of them, their professor rather fit that description.

"Get out!" shouted Philpott at them all, looking utterly irate and thoroughly discomposed. "Get out of my classroom, all of you, now! I shall talk to the headmaster about this class at once!"

Nobody needed telling twice. There was a loud scraping as all of the chairs pushed back and the students hurried to the door, some muttering, some sniggering, and a few glancing over their shoulders fearfully. The Marauders didn't say a word to one another until they had made their way out of the entrance hall and onto the bright grounds, where they would now be able to spend a free hour. A gentle breeze rolled through an absolutely beautiful afternoon, and if the situation had been different, Remus may have been happy for the opportunity to enjoy the weather a bit more.

"He's a nightmare," said James, as they sat down in the shade of a beech tree by the lake. "What's he playing at, picking on Peter in front of everyone like that?"

Remus, torn between sympathy for Peter and annoyance at James, frowned and pulled his Transfiguration textbook out of his bag, ready to use the hour to catch up on his studying. "You really shouldn't have done that, James. You could have been expelled."

Sirius huffed and leaned back in the grass. "He's the worst combination of idiot and madman, that Philpott. He'd never have been able to suss out who was jinxing his wand. I'm glad you did it, James, or else I may have cursed him and that would have been a mite harder to hide."

"Do you think he'll really go to Dumbledore?" asked Peter. "Do you think we'll all get into trouble?"

James shrugged. "Who cares? We need to do something about this berk, Sirius. We've been slacking this term. He's had it too easy."

Remus fought not to groan at those words – with everything else they had going on, now they were going to start tormenting Philpott again as well?

But just as Remus knew he would do, Sirius grinned at James. "Excellent. What did you have in mind?"

The party that followed Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Final the next day was one for the ages. Hufflepuff, it turned out, was simply no match for this Gryffindor team. The Final had been quick and painless, as the score was close only for a few minutes before Gryffindor pulled away and Susanna O'Shea caught the Snitch to win the Cup only twenty minutes after the match had started. Exam preparations were forgotten entirely for the day. The celebration commenced early in the afternoon, when a group of upper-years arrived in the common room with bagfuls of treats and butterbeer, and carried on well into the evening, when a grinning Sirius offered to go replenish the refreshments. He winked when a disapproving Newlyn Gallit reminded him he only had a half-hour until curfew, and climbed through the portrait hole into the much quieter corridor.

"It's nearly curfew," the Fat Lady called after him, as she swung shut. "You'd best not be caught out-of-bounds."

Sirius did not look back at her, but waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "I'll be quicker than a quintaped, keep your hair on!"

And with that, he turned the corner and nearly ran bodily into Gin Leigh.

"Well," he said, once he had composed himself. He had not noticed her absence from the masses in the common room. "Why aren't you at the party?"

For a moment, she looked surprised to see him there, but that melted away into a quick shrug. "I had to send a letter before curfew."

She looked rather uninterested in conversing with him, so he mimicked her shrug and sidestepped her. "All right. I'm off to the kitchens for replenishments."

He had barely taken three steps past her when she was suddenly there again, walking along beside him. He frowned at her. "What are you doing?"

"I'll help you," she told him.

"I can find the kitchens on my own, you know."

"Butterbeer's heavy. You may need an extra pair of hands is all."

The idea that this was not an entirely altruistic endeavor of hers – that she might want to be around him, to be alone with him – crossed Sirius's mind, and he could not help but warm at the thought.

"We might not make curfew," he told her as they descended the moving staircase, which on a Saturday would take them all the way down to the second floor. "Depends on how sprightly the elves are feeling this evening."

"All right," she shrugged.

"You're not concerned about getting detention?" His tone was casual, but he couldn't help but think that another detention with her might not be the worst way to spend an evening.

She looked at him out of the side of her eye. "Well I guess I reckoned we wouldn't get caught."

"Why's that?"

"Because you're supposed to be the mastermind mischief-maker, aren't you? I guess I reckoned you'd be able to lead us back from the kitchens a few minutes past curfew without landing us in detention."

He laughed and asked incredulously, "Do you know how many detentions I've had this year?"

Gin shook her head. "Why would I know something like that?"

"Neither do I," Sirius told her. "I lost count."

She did not seem too disturbed by this notion. "But remember, I know about some of the things you've got away with the last two years."

"And you're thoroughly impressed?"

"And I'm trusting that if you can turn an entire corridor into a swimming pool without earning a detention, you can get me back to Gryffindor Tower a few minutes after curfew without earning us both a detention."

There was a playfulness to her tone that made him grin. And then, as they turned the corner toward the entrance hall, without thinking at all, he said, "Our last detention wasn't so bad, though."

He wished immediately that he had not brought it up, for fear that she would recoil or revert to embarrassed silence at the memory of their detention in the library and the kiss they had shared that night in November. They had not mentioned it since, had barely spoken to one another outside of the Potions dungeon, had both feigned amnesia where the topic was concerned. Sure, he thought about it often enough, but how a young wizard was supposed to act toward a girl he had previously kissed, he did not know.

Gin, though, did not falter or react in any particularly noticeable fashion. "No," she said, seeming almost pensive. "It wasn't so bad."

He fought back a smile. They retreated into an easy silence for the remainder of their walk to the kitchens, but Sirius could not think of anything but the girl alongside him. When they stepped into the cavernous kitchen and were swarmed by eager house elves asking to help them, Sirius stumbled over his order, and Gin had to clarify that when he said "eclair," he meant a platter full of eclairs, and when he had asked for "a few bags of potatoes," he had intended to ask for potato crisps, more specifically. The house elves were as helpful as ever, and as they all hurried off to gather the assorted requests, Sirius made the mistake of meeting Gin's gaze for the first time that evening.

And there was something, in that moment, by the expression on her face that told him she was thinking what he was thinking, and so, without a moment's hesitation, he leaned in toward her.

The Gryffindor common room was bordering on chaotic, and the atmosphere of celebration and general glee was such that even Remus had abandoned his studies for the night, knowing that trying to get any reading done amid the din would have been fruitless. He sat in the corner with Peter, Raeanne, and Goomer for much of the evening, feeling the exhaustion that only an impending full moon would bring him, yet simultaneously feeling incredibly content.

He would not have thought it possible, a year or two ago, that only two days before a full moon he could feel this untroubled. The transformations were more terrible than ever, each month his injuries more grisly and harrowing than before, but every time he returned to the understanding faces of his three best friends, a consuming, almost giddy gratefulness overtook him and he would not think about the next full moon again for several weeks. How he had been lucky enough to befriend them, he would never know. Even with exams approaching, even with the frustrating stasis of the Animagus transformations and his overall disquiet regarding the whole endeavor, Remus was happier than he had ever been.

Looking around, he grinned at the fact that he was clearly not the only happy one at the moment. James had been surrounded by admirers since the match had ended, and he was currently sitting by the fire, talking animatedly to Susanna O'Shea, who seemed to find everything he said very funny. Sirius had excused himself to the kitchens, claiming that he would get everyone more rounds of drinks and snacks, though now that Remus thought about it, he had been gone quite some time. Goomer and Raeanne sat next to him, telling stories about their various childhood escapades to Peter, who giggled at them with something akin to amazement.

The portrait hole swung open and Sirius climbed in, followed, to Remus's surprise, by Gin. Both of them had bags of food taken from the kitchens, which they deposited on a large table and which were descended upon by hungry Gryffindors at once, Goomer and Raeanne included. Sirius looked around, spotted Remus and Peter, and pushed past the swarming students toward them, grinning in a proud sort of way.

"Hi!" he said, taking the seat that Goomer had just vacated and handing each of them a fresh butterbeer.

"Took you a while," said Peter. "You didn't get caught, did you?"

"Nope," Sirius said, cracking open his own bottle of butterbeer and taking a swig. He still had that funny smile on his face.

Remus narrowed his eyes. He knew that look. "What were you up to?"

"I went to the kitchens to nick some snacks, I told you that." He paused and then his grin twitched slightly. "Gin helped me."

Something in Sirius's voice – a mixture of feigned innocence and controlled excitement – confirmed Remus's suspicions, and he felt his neck growing hot under his collar. Peter, though, looked confused.

"Well why did it take you so long then? I thought you'd be back before curfew."

"Because he kissed her again," said Remus, torn between amusement and outright wonder at Sirius's forwardness.

Peter's eyes grew very wide and his mouth fell open. "You did?"

Sirius's grin broadened, but he just shrugged at Peter, his eyes dancing happily as he surveyed the common room before turning back to the pair of them. "She offered to help me get everything and carry it back up here. Who was I to say no?"

Remus glanced over at Gin, who was now sitting with Lily and a third-year girl Remus had never spoken to. Gin looked as she always did – pretty and unreadable. He wondered what it was like to kiss her, or to kiss any girl, really, and then as soon as the thought crossed his mind he looked away, feeling ashamed and embarrassed and very warm all of a sudden.

Peter, too, had evidently turned to look at her, as Sirius said, somewhat exasperatedly, "Stop staring, Peter. Geez, could you be any more obvious?"

"Who's Pete staring at now?"

James had returned, flopping down into the empty chair and smiling around at them all, still on an obvious high from the win that afternoon.

"He's been staring at Gin with his mouth hanging open," said Sirius as James grabbed a chocolate éclair from the table and took a large bite.

"Why?" he asked, mouth full.

"Because Sirius has been off in the kitchens kissing her again," explained Remus, trying not to laugh when James choked on the éclair.

"Did you really?" he asked after a moment of coughing, his eyes watering behind his glasses.

"Yeah," Sirius said, examining his fingernails in a bored sort of way, though his lips were still quirked in a grin. "We were nicking food from the kitchens and next thing I knew, we were kissing. It was fun."

Sirius was acting very nonchalant about the whole thing, in Remus's opinion. "So now is she your girlfriend?"

"No!" Sirius snorted and then lowered his voice. "I'll have you know, when we were walking back up here, she told me, 'I hope you don't think this means I like you, Sirius, or that I want you to be my boyfriend or anything.' It was brilliant."

"So she just goes round kissing boys she doesn't like?" asked Peter with obvious confusion that – quite honestly – Remus shared at the moment.

Sirius shrugged again. "It's not like I want her to be my girlfriend, so why do I care?"

James and Peter continued to press Sirius for details, but it was not long after this that Remus excused himself for the night and retreated to his four-poster, exhausted. Of course, he had known that Sirius and Gin had kissed months ago, but hadn't given it much thought, as most of his mental energy at that time had been spent on his friends' discovery of his condition and their subsequent plan to become Animagi for him. Now though, he lay in bed and thought about this whole kissing business. He thought about Gin and how pretty and aloof she always was; about Lily and how so many boys seemed to be drawn to her but how she scared Remus a little; about Adin and her shiny, dark hair; about Mary and her quiet kindness; about Raeanne, and what Goomer would do if another boy kissed her. He laughed lightly at the thought and turned over, burying his still-warm face into his pillow.

Unwillingly, a bubble of worry pitted itself in his stomach. Once girls moved into the picture, would everything change? Would James and Sirius – already very popular – decide that their attention would be better spent on girls instead of on him and Peter?

Think of everything they've done for you, he told himself. They were constantly one nosy teacher or bad spell away from being expelled, or even arrested, for what they were doing in that fourth-floor passageway. The four of them had been through so much that year, more than Remus could ever have fathomed in September, and they had stuck by one another. They hadn't abandoned him when they discovered his secret, hadn't outed him or ruined his future, and now they were practicing illegal, highly dangerous magic every night just to try to help Remus. Heck, Sirius had told him and Peter first about what he had been up to in the kitchens, even before he had told James. Remus would not worry about girls. Not tonight.

And allowing himself to be content – just this once – Remus drifted off to sleep.

The following Wednesday evening found Remus trudging slowly back up to Gryffindor Tower, having just been released from the hospital wing by Madam Pomfrey. Despite his exhaustion and shaky limbs, he couldn't help but notice that there was a bit of a buzz around the corridors; the students he passed seemed happily talkative considering it was right before exams. He had just taken a brief rest on an out-of-the-way bench and had started his slow ascent again when someone called out to him.

"Remus!"

He turned and found Lily and Adin, bags thrown over their shoulders, approaching from the opposite end of the corridor.

"Hello," he greeted cautiously as they reached him. Though both very friendly, it was unlike either of them to approach him as he walked alone down the corridor.

"How are you feeling?" Lily asked. "Somebody said you were ill."

Remus nodded and leaned his shoulder as surreptitiously as he could against a nearby pillar, hoping his legs would keep him upright for the duration of the conversation. "Yes, I–I came down with something yesterday and Pomfrey insisted on keeping me in the hospital wing all day today."

"What was wrong with you?" asked Adin.

"Oh, er, I'm not sure." Remus fidgeted and looked down at his fingers, trying to instill some sort of confidence in his voice. "I'm all right now, though, nothing to worry about."

"That's good," said Lily, eyeing him with concern. "Being ill right before exams is pretty horrible. If you want, you can borrow my notes from lessons today. I doubt Potter or Black took any."

Remus smiled at her, grateful for her kindness and guilty for the lie. "Thank you."

"Did you hear about Philpott?" Adin asked, a sort of giddy energy flowing out of her, giving Remus the sense that this was the true impetus behind the conversation.

"No, what happened?"

The girls exchanged a look, both fighting back grins. "Well, he might be cracking up, I reckon. It's all anybody could talk about today. Apparently, he's spent most of the day ranting about how something's haunting him…about how last night, every time he reached for something, it would float up in the air and out of his reach."

Remus bit his lip to keep from smiling, as Lily was now watching him shrewdly.

"We didn't have Defense Against the Dark Arts today," Lily said, "but it's all over school. People say he's at a breaking point."

"Hm," Remus said, trying to look curiously perplexed. "Isn't that odd?"

"Yes," Lily said, her lips twitching. "Very odd."

"Anyway, we're off to the library to work on Herbology, if you want to come," offered Adin.

"Oh, no thank you," said Remus, who was barely keeping upright and wanted desperately to get back to his four-poster. "I'm just going to go back up to Gryffindor Tower."

"Here," Lily said, swinging her bag open and digging through it. She pulled out several sheets of parchment covered in her loopy handwriting and handed them to Remus. "Notes from today for you to borrow. You can give them back once you're through."

Remus thanked her again and bid them goodbye before continuing his slow progress up to the portrait hole. He did not find any of his friends in the common room or in the dormitory waiting for him, but was only slightly disappointed by their absence. His four-poster had never felt as comfortable as it did when he crawled into it, trying to concentrate on reviewing Lily's notes with his back pressed against the headboard.

He had been at it for about thirty minutes, rereading the same lines multiple times with glazed-over eyes, when the dormitory door swung open and James, Sirius, and Peter entered, all smiling and hurrying toward Remus when they realized he had returned.

"You're back!" Peter said.

"How are you feeling?" James asked.

"All right," Remus answered honestly. "I'll survive."

"Well we've been in the passageway," Sirius said, dropping his bag onto the floor by his bed, where it clunked loudly. "Same old rubbish, though. Still not connecting with anything…"

James frowned at him. "We'll get there. It's only going to take some time."

Sirius rolled his eyes and looked as if he was about to respond, but Peter cut in. "Did you hear about Philpott, Remus?"

Sirius's frustration seemed to vanish at once, as he and James started laughing loudly. Remus grinned in spite of himself. "I did. I thought you lot were going to study last night?"

James composed himself and shrugged, his eyes alight with mischief. "We were, but messing with Philpott was more fun."

"Plus we didn't have you here to make us feel guilty," said Sirius.

"Yes, Moony, we really are at a loss when you're away."

Remus chuckled and set Lily's notes on his bedside table, conceding defeat to his exhaustion. "Well tomorrow, we've certainly got to study. Exams start in only a few days!" He did not miss the glance that James and Sirius exchanged and suddenly, he was very suspicious. "What are you doing to him tomorrow?"

Sirius grinned innocently. "Don't you worry about it, Remus. We know you need your rest. Let's just say, don't be late for breakfast in the morning."

As he walked down to the Great Hall the next morning with Peter, however, Remus couldn't help but worry, and his trepidation had only increased when he had awoken that morning to find that James and Sirius had already left the dormitory. He and Peter entered the Great Hall, which was almost full though not as loud as usual, as many students had books propped open against their juices and were studying diligently. Spotting James and Sirius at the end of the table, Remus and Peter hurried over and squeezed themselves onto the bench.

"Why didn't you wait for us?" asked Peter, serving himself a large helping of eggs.

James grinned, his eyes flickering up to the staff table. "Had a few things to do."

This did not ease Remus's fears. He put some sausage on his plate, but barely poked at it as his stomach was in knots. "Don't you two think we have enough to be worrying about right now without adding a vendetta against Philpott to our schedules?"

Sirius, who had been surveying the hall while munching happily on some bacon, looked at Remus and frowned, clearly confused. "What all do we have to be worrying about right now?"

"Oh, I don't know, the fact that exams start in a few days?"

"James and I aren't worried about exams, Remus!" said Sirius as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "We already know it all."

"Plus, that's why we didn't ask you and Peter to be involved in this one. You two are so uptight…"

"Yes, so calm down and let yourself have a laugh today. You look like you could use one, mate."

Remus did not respond, but went back to poking at his sausage, feeling slightly resentful. He was very behind, having missed two days of lessons right before exams, was still feeling the exhaustive effects of the full moon, and now his friends were adding undue stress to his life. If Philpott discovered that they had been the ones tormenting him all year, Remus was quite certain the man would not hesitate to hex them.

Both James and Sirius continued with their breakfasts with an uncommon alertness that foretold trouble, but Remus did not have to wait long to discover what they had prepared. Only a few minutes after the post had arrived, there was a strangled cry from the staff table and nearly every person in the room looked up at the source of the noise. Professor Philpott had risen from his seat and was holding a handful of what looked like his own lank brown hair in his palm, gazing at it in horror. A moment passed and then he reached up with desperate hesitance to touch the top of his head, at which point the rest of his hair came off in his hand like a great, molting toupee. The students and other professors stared transfixed, mouths agape; Philpott's head now resembled a cue ball with his already oversized ears protruding from his bald head like bat wings.

The laughter started at first as a gentle tittering, as if the students were not sure whether they were allowed to laugh or not. Once a few had started, though, it became contagious and deafening. Philpott looked up at them from the pile of hair in his hands, his bald head gleaming in the sunlight, his thick glasses making him look more than ever like some sort of deformed insect.

"Who has done this?" he roared, dislodging his wand from his robes and brandishing it at the students, who were still laughing away. "Which one of you nasty miscreants did this to me?"

The professors seemed at a loss – indeed, a few of them appeared to be fighting back smiles, though many were surveying the laughing students with a frown. Professor McGonagall stood up and approached Philpott, whispering something into one of his quivering ears, but he was too intent on the students to even react to her. He brushed past McGonagall, made his way around the staff table, and again extended his wand hand, which was shaking in either rage or humiliation, it was difficult to tell.

"I'll make you pay!" he shouted. "I'll make you –" He cut off when one of his eyebrows proceeded to fall clean off, floating down in front of his face like a drifting, solitary feather. The laughter in the hall intensified and Philpott was now forced to shout in order to be heard over the din.

"I have spent a year of my life attempting to teach you lot of brainless, worthless ruffians, and this is how you repay me? You are a plague on wizardkind, all of you!"

He raised his wand straight ahead of him as though to curse them all, and many of the laughing students ducked down as if to shield themselves, but there was a flash of light and a loud bang and several girls shrieked in surprise. Dumbledore had arrived, framed in the doorway of the Great Hall, his wand out and pointed directly at Philpott, who cowered and lowered his own wand sheepishly.

"I cannot allow you to curse my students, Professor," said Dumbledore calmly. The laughter in the hall had died completely at the headmaster's appearance and was replaced only with a ringing silence. All eyes were locked either on Philpott or Dumbledore, waiting to see what would happen next.

Philpott's other eyebrow fell off and became stuck between his glasses and his face. He blinked quickly for a moment before digging it out and holding it in his hand, along with the rest of his hair, gazing at it in shock before seeming to come to a decision.

"I hate this blasted school, Dumbledore," Philpott said, throwing his shoulders back in what seemed to be an attempt to look imposing, but that only made him look more ridiculous. "I should have done this months ago. I QUIT."

And with that, Professor Philpott, bald head shining brightly, left the Great Hall, Dumbledore turning and following behind him. There was a beat of silence before everyone started talking at once, a few whoops and cheers echoing up from the house tables.

Remus let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and turned to his friends, who were laughing heartily.

"See Moony?" said Sirius, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "We told you everything would work out."

"And you doubted us!" James said in feigned outrage before giving up and chuckling again. "Running an evil, twisted, bullying, horrible teacher out of Hogwarts? This one will go down in the Marauder history books, lads."

The school could talk of little else for the days that followed Philpott's resignation, and before Remus could catch his breath, they had somehow made it through exams – including Defense Against the Dark Arts, which Dumbledore himself had presided over with an air of cheerful reminiscence at once again being back in the classroom – and were on the train back to King's Cross. The four boys were lounging in the very last compartment on the train, watching the wild scenery whip past them through the window, and discussing the lack of progress in their Animagi project.

"Well the bright side is that it's something we can practice over the summer, at least," said Peter. "Because we don't actually have to do any spells for it."

"Do you think your parents are going to take away your wand for the summer again, Peter?" asked James.

Peter shrugged. "Probably. They don't want me to get in trouble."

James shook his head as though he had never heard of such a concept. "Mental. You live in a wizarding house. How do they think the Ministry would know if you were the one doing magic or if it was them?"

"James," said Remus reasonably. "I'm pretty certain it's only your parents that don't care if you do magic outside of school."

"I bet that's not true. What about your parents, Sirius?"

Sirius, who had barely been listening to the conversation as he watched the green hills flash by the window, turned toward his friends. He had been much quieter than usual in the week leading up to their departure from school and Remus knew that he was dreading going back home to London for two months. Though Remus, too, was not looking forward to being home again, he knew that his troubles at home were nothing compared to what Sirius had to face.

Sirius shrugged. "They've never said anything to me about it. I did plenty of magic over the holidays and didn't get into any trouble. I reckon James is right about the Ministry not being able to tell if students are the ones doing it or their parents."

"Sirius, do you think you'll be allowed to come to James's house this year?" asked Peter, biting the head off of a chocolate frog in a rather aggressive fashion. James had asked them all the week before to come and visit over the summer.

Sirius and James exchanged a look. "I don't know, I guess it'll just depend on what kind of mood my dear old mum is in."

"And whether she still wants you to spy on me," grinned James. "You can tell her I'm the biggest pure-blood fanatic you've ever met if it'll mean you can visit me. The summer's going to be so bloody boring otherwise."

Sirius was marginally more cheerful after this. He reached over and grabbed a chocolate frog out of Peter's pile and tore it open, grinning down at the card that fell out of the wrapper and offering it to Peter.

"Here you go, Peter…Dumbledore again."

"Brilliant!" said Peter, snatching the card out of Sirius's hand and beaming down at it in excitement. "I think I've got about twenty of him now!"

Sirius and James exchanged a look, but had to avert their gazes quickly as to not burst into laughter. The four boys spent the remainder of the train ride reliving their greatest moments of the previous year – James teasing Sirius mercilessly about Gin – and thinking longingly about all of their plans for third year. All of them, Sirius included, were in decent spirits when the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross, and as his friends clapped him on the shoulder and bid their farewells, Remus grinned happily. Despite the stress and fear and mind-numbing anxiety he had suffered, second year had been the best year of his life.

And as long as James, Sirius, and Peter were by his side, he had no doubt that third year would be even better.