A/N: I'm so grateful for the response to the last chapter...thank you to everyone who read and reviewed! Now, enjoy Christmas once again (including a quick visit to the Lupins')!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.
Chapter 28 - 3.7 or "To the Lowest and the Best of Christmas Miracles!"
There were, James and Sirius discovered early in their tenure, exactly two perks to being Filch's personal servants leading up to Christmas holiday. The first was that, despite having only been stationed at Hogwarts for a little more than a year, Filch seemed to know several of the castle's secret passages that James and Sirius had not yet found. One of their tasks over the first week of their punishment was to scrub clean countless castle walls, and Filch's insistence that they skip certain sections or pillars clued them into the fact that there was something unique about those spots that Filch was not eager for them to discover. So, naturally, once their work was done for the night, the boys would double back under the Invisibility Cloak to have a poke around. It was in this fashion that in the three weeks of their tortuous and unfairly disproportionate punishment for the war on Filch, James and Sirius unmasked no fewer than six new secret passageways, including one that opened right under a massive pine tree on the edge of Hogsmeade.
The second benefit to their punishment was that in being deputized to assist Filch in decorating the castle for Christmas, they had unrestricted access to his supply of mistletoe. Thus, it was no mystery to anyone when sprigs of mistletoe started appearing not just in the standard corridors and doorways, but also in such unusual places as inside the girls' lavatories, covering the ceiling of McGonagall's classroom, and suspended over Dumbledore's chair at the staff table in the Great Hall. The professors, perhaps in a swell of holiday cheer, or perhaps relieved by the amusing harmlessness of the misplaced mistletoe, turned a blind eye, and suddenly Hogwarts was full of amorous couples trying to get a quick kiss in before lessons, though none in the girls' lavatory from what James and Sirius could tell.
And so, despite three whole weeks of laborious punishment, the Christmas break arrived before they knew it and the Marauders, on the whole, were in high spirits. Sirius had instructed Regulus to tell their parents that he would be spending the holiday at the Potters', and everything seemed to be going quite smoothly right up until the moment when the Hogwarts Express shivered to a halt at King's Cross station.
"Shit." Sirius dove away from the window in the boys' train compartment, his eyes wide and wild. "Shit!"
"What's wrong?" James asked as he, Remus, and Peter all paused in pulling their things from the luggage rack to stare at Sirius.
"My mum's on the platform," Sirius hissed at James, "standing right next to your dad."
"So what?" asked Peter, stepping toward the window and peering out of it with interest.
Remus frowned. "Yeah, doesn't she know you're going home with James this year?"
"But I don't want to have to speak to her! And, more importantly, I really don't want her speaking with James's dad."
"Okay," James said, sitting back down on the seat he had only just vacated. "We'll stay in here until she's gone then."
But after fifteen minutes of watching impatiently for Walburga Black to depart with Regulus, Sirius was forced to admit that his mother was clearly waiting for him. He and James had bid Remus and Peter goodbye and were huddled as far away from the compartment window as possible when Sirius started fidgeting.
"Check again," he said.
James crawled across the seat to the window and raised his head just enough to get a quick glimpse of the platform. "No luck," he said, sinking back down and out of sight once more. "They're still out there and the platform's getting emptier. We've got to go out there eventually, mate, or my dad's going to think we missed the train."
"All right," Sirius sighed. "We'll just make it as quick as possible – and remember, if it comes up, we're good little purebloods."
"Right," said James, standing and pulling down the bags from the rack above them. "But we can't be too outright, or else my dad'll know something's up."
"Wait – shit – we've got to change."
"What?"
"Back into our school robes!" Sirius said, trying not to panic as he dug into his bag. "We can't go out there wearing Muggle clothes, my mum would skin me alive!"
And so, platform nine and three-quarters was almost completely empty when Sirius and James emerged from the train five minutes later, both now dressed in their standard wizard robes and cloaks and approaching Mr. Potter with a falsified air of nonchalance.
"Ah! There you are," said Mr. Potter, grinning as he reached out to give James a one-armed hug that James distractedly acquiesced to. "I was starting to think you had got lost somehow."
Sirius, though, was watching his mother close the very short distance between them with Regulus dragging his things behind her.
"Sirius," she said by way of greeting, the formal tone she used in public not giving away any of her intentions.
"Hello, Mother," Sirius muttered, hoping with everything inside of him that she would not derail his holiday plans. "Reg said I was allowed to go to James's for the holiday. He said you said it was all right."
Regulus gave him an innocent shrug, but his mother ignored him, her eyes flashing from James to his father and her expression calculated. "And you must be the elusive Master Potter," she said to James's father, who gave her a tight-lipped smile in return.
"Please," he said, inclining his head in a polite bow, "call me Fleamont."
"Walburga Black," she introduced herself, holding a jeweled hand out for Mr. Potter to kiss. Sirius shifted his weight as Mr. Potter lowered his lips to the claw-like offering. "It is such a pleasure to finally meet you."
Mr. Potter straightened once more and surveyed the three Blacks. "The pleasure is entirely mine."
"All right," Sirius said, pushing past his mother to start toward the exit, "we've got to get going now, see you later, Mother."
The sharp points of her fingernails digging into his shoulder stopped his forward progress. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Sirius?"
"Right," Sirius said, turning back toward the group and swallowing hard. "James, this is my mother…Mother, James…okay, now we're off."
He tried walking again, but no one else followed.
"What a delight, James," Mrs. Black said, releasing her grip on Sirius's shoulder to extend her hand for James to kiss as well. Sirius averted his eyes and fought down the bile rising in his throat. "I've heard so much about you."
This was entirely untrue, and James knew it, but he did not miss a beat before kissing her hand and smiling charmingly at her. "And I've heard so much about you, Mrs. Black, but Sirius's descriptions certainly did not do you justice."
Walburga's eyes flickered to Sirius only momentarily, but she seemed unable to find a suitable response in present company, so instead, she introduced Regulus to James's father. Sirius took the opportunity to nudge James and silently communicate that they needed to make haste. James gave a shrugging nod and turned back to the conversation.
"– disappointed to not have the opportunity to meet your wife," Mrs. Black was saying. "We've corresponded, of course."
"I'm sure she will be equally regretful to have missed this opportunity as well," said Mr. Potter. "She's been having some trouble with her hip, unfortunately, and riding in the car for several hours would have only aggravated it further."
Sirius shot a panicked look at James and both boys once again tried to move the group along.
"We really should be going now, Dad…"
"Right, we've loads of things to do. Goodbye, Mother…"
Neither Mr. Potter nor Mrs. Black (nor Regulus, whose eyes had been bouncing from person to person cautiously during the entire exchange) moved.
"A car?" repeated Mrs. Black with an arch of her eyebrow. "You came to fetch your son in a car?"
The tight-lipped smile was firmly back in place on Mr. Potter's face. "Yes. Euphemia and I are unable to Apparate much these days, and I've always suffered from Floo-sickness, I'm afraid. The car is very useful in situations such as these, I'm sure you understand…"
Walburga Black clearly did not understand, and she also certainly disapproved. "I see…"
"Of course, we've made quite a few adjustments to it, so that we don't have to sit in Muggle traffic, for instance…"
"Yes, of course." His mother looked at him sharply, and Sirius felt his stomach drop before she turned back to Mr. Potter, her practiced mask of politeness back on her face. "My husband Orion and I were hoping to have your family for tea on Boxing Day. It only seems proper that we get to know each other better, now that our sons have become such close friends."
Another frantic look exchanged with James, and Sirius stumbled to find some way to get around the invitation, but he needn't have worried.
"That is very kind of you, but I'm afraid we already have plans," said Mr. Potter cordially. "A tradition, actually…you see we always visit with our dear family friends on Boxing Day…"
"Oh?"
"Yes, the Bones family…I'm not sure if you're acquainted…"
"The Bones family?" Mrs. Black echoed with another raised eyebrow. "Yes, of course…"
There was an awkward pause as though Mrs. Black were waiting for the Boxing Day invitation to be extended to her as well, but Mr. Potter just smiled good-naturedly and rocked backwards on his heels.
"Well, we had better be off or my wife will start to worry. Regulus," he said, nodding toward the boy before turning back to Sirius's mother, "Mrs. Black, it's been an honor meeting you both."
For a moment, Sirius thought that his mother might crack under the combination of the rejection of her offer, the discovery of the car, and the mannered dismissal, but he should not have underestimated her. Walburga Black, after all, had been trained her entire life on the importance of politeness in high company, and Fleamont Potter certainly warranted her most proper of etiquette.
"The honor has been all mine, Fleamont," she replied, her hand once again reaching out to rest on Sirius's shoulder. He suppressed the instinct to move out of her grasp. "You're sure my son is not too much trouble for you? No one knows better than I that he can be a handful."
Mr. Potter's eyes darted to the hand on Sirius's shoulder, and Sirius wondered if he could see how sharply the talon-like fingernails were digging into him, but the next second, she had released him to take a much gentler hold of Regulus's shoulder.
"Not at all," said Mr. Potter, his eyes still moving between Sirius and his mother. "Sirius is a very welcome guest in our house."
"Really, Dad, we need to get going," said James, before the conversation could be drawn out any further. "Mrs. Black, it's been a pleasure."
To Sirius's utmost relief, his mother did not cause any trouble as the conversation ended and they moved to the station exit. Not fifteen minutes later, he was sitting happily in the passenger seat of the Potters' car as Mr. Potter maneuvered them easily toward the outskirts of London and James lounged across the seats in the back.
"What's this one do?" Sirius asked, pushing another button on the dashboard. The voice of a newscaster filled the car.
"…Miss Orpington, the granddaughter of the celebrated Minister for Magic Evangeline Orpington, has not been seen since the third of December, when she spoke at a rally for Muggle rights…"
"It's the WWN," Mr. Potter said, reaching over to lower the volume and talking loudly over the newsreader. "If you push this button here it will flip over to the Muggle stations…"
From the back, James snorted at Sirius's squeak of glee, but Sirius ignored him and pressed the indicated button eagerly. At once, a raspy singing voice and guitar riff filled the car.
"What's this? Is it Muggle music, then?" Sirius asked Mr. Potter, turning bodily around to look at James in elation. "This is Muggle music!"
Mr. Potter chuckled as he guided the car onto the motorway and gave Sirius a sidelong glance. "I reckon so."
"Well what is it? Is it a band? Are there Muggle bands just like there are wizard bands? Can you get records that run off electricity?"
"Sirius, you git, sit down," said James, laughing at Sirius who was now up on his knees and facing entirely the wrong direction.
"Turn around, son," Mr. Potter said, patting Sirius's shoulder until he pulled himself back around on the seat. "I can't say I know much about Muggle music. I've no idea what the bands are called, but I do know they have records just like wizards do."
"Brilliant," Sirius said, the word son ringing in his ears loudly enough to drown out the music for a moment. The song ended after a minute and led into a slower-paced tune that could not hold Sirius's attention for very long. He fiddled with the window crank before a thought occurred to him. "Hey Mr. Potter, have you ever been to the cinema?"
After a quick farewell on the train from a flustered Sirius and a distracted James, it took Remus only a minute or two to locate his father on platform nine and three-quarters. Unlike the previous two years, the full moon would not be falling over the Christmas break this year, so Remus had been in much higher spirits at the prospect of seeing his parents for the holiday. The only thing he would have to worry about was ensuring that he did not let slip his friends' knowledge of his condition. This, he supposed, he could do if he kept his wits about him.
The hug he gave his father, then, was a bit heartier than it had been in years past upon disembarking the Hogwarts Express, and Lyall Lupin pulled back from his son with an expression that was both surprised and pleased. He was a slim man and circumstances had aged him well beyond his years. His thin hair, which used to be a few shades darker than Remus's, was now entirely grey. The wariness he carried with him constantly had lined his forehead with deep creases that always seemed to mock Remus as the burden, the cause of his father's worry.
"Good to see you, Remus." His father's voice was sincere and he gripped both of Remus's shoulders with either hand, looking him over as though for signs of defect.
"Where's Mum?" Remus asked, glancing around the crowded platform curiously.
"She's at home," his father said, moving to take the handle of Remus's trunk and steering him through the crowd. "With the cost of petrol, it made more sense for you and me to Floo…though the public Floo prices have gone up so much, I'm not sure it makes much of a difference…"
"All right, then," Remus shrugged. He preferred riding in the back of his mother's car to Floo-ing, but the latter certainly saved them all several hours of time.
The platform was still very crowded and Remus had to adroitly avoid being hit with students' trunks and bags as he followed his father toward the Floo queue that started near the end of the train. He smiled and waved as he passed Ev Linney, who was walking in the opposite direction with her cheerful-looking mother.
"Have a happy Christmas, Remus!" she called.
"You too, Ev," he said, grinning at her. His father looked back at him curiously as they came to a stop at the end of the queue behind Adin and Kaia Balini. Adin was whispering hurriedly to a bored-looking Kaia while a well-dressed man who Remus assumed was their father read the Daily Prophet and did not pay them any attention at all.
"Who was that?"
"Huh? Oh, that was Ev. She's a Hufflepuff in my year." Why this caused heat to rush to Remus's face, he could not say.
His father said nothing, but rested Remus's trunk on its end as they shuffled forward through the queue. Despite the standard din of happy greetings from parents and prolonged goodbyes between friends, not to mention the hooting owls and loud blasts of steam coming from the train, Remus could hear every word of Adin and Kaia's whispered conversation in front of him.
"…but that doesn't mean anything, just because they didn't partner together in Ancient Runes…I mean, I partnered with Cassandra Nguyen, because Lily partnered with that Severus Snape and Cassandra is the best at Runes in the class I reckon, even better than Lily, so I knew we'd get top marks on our paper. But really, Cassandra was asked to go to Hogsmeade by Phillip Maloney, had you heard? And everyone could tell that Evan Rosier wanted to partner with her before I got to her, but I don't think it was because she's good at Ancient Runes…"
Remus could not tell whether Mr. Balini could hear Adin's rambling gossip or not, as he appeared thoroughly absorbed in an article about the missing granddaughter of a former Minister. Remus's father, on the other hand, was obviously trying to tune Adin out and was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
"…and you'd think they would do it in private, at least, unless he was trying to make Cassandra jealous, and I wouldn't put that past Evan Rosier, would you? I mean, snogging Darlene Burke in the corridor where anyone could see them…right there under the mistletoe in the Charms corridor, I still can't believe it. And I don't even think he wants to go to Hogsmeade with her, but I'm sure she'll wrap him up… Burke's crafty like that and she won't want everyone thinking that Evan was just using her to get back at Cassandra…"
"Hi Remus!" said Kaia, finally spotting the Lupins behind her and looking relieved for an excuse to interrupt Adin.
Adin started at the interruption and turned toward the Lupins with a bright smile and no hint of embarrassment. "Oh, hi Remus, how are you?"
"Hi," Remus said as they all took another step forward in the queue. "I'm good thanks. Er, this is my dad. Dad, this is Adin and Kaia Balini. They're Gryffindors too."
For a second, a peculiar expression crossed his father's face, but the next moment, he was nodding to both of the girls politely. "How do you do?"
"Hi Mr. Lupin, nice to meet you!" chirped Adin. "Do you know my dad? Dad – Dad! This is Remus Lupin and his dad."
Mr. Balini looked startled to find himself a part of the conversation and extended a hand toward Remus's father. "Salvestro Balini."
"Lyall Lupin," he replied, shaking the hand as they all took one step closer to the fireplace that waited at the end of the queue.
"Lupin?" said Mr. Balini, squinting his eyes as though trying to recall something. "You're at the Ministry, I believe?"
"I was," Remus's father corrected. "Had a stint in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but I haven't worked there in years. I consult now mostly, and write, from time to time."
"Of course, of course," nodded Mr. Balini. "I thought I recognized the name." There were now only two people between the Balinis and the front of the queue, and they all watched as a small girl struggled to fit her trunk into the green flames with her. "I have to say," Mr. Balini continued, "I'll be happy once my girls have their Apparition licenses. All this Floo nonsense… It was easier when I could just Side-Along with Adin here, but with two it's far too dangerous…"
Remus's father nodded. "They might consider installing another fireplace on the platform to help with the wait times, or there'll start to be more parents who decide to throw caution to the wind and Side-Along recklessly."
"Hey, Remus," Adin cut in, "are you going to be visiting James and Sirius over the holiday?"
"Oh," said Remus, caught off-guard. "I don't think so, Adin, why?"
Adin looked disappointed. "Just wondering. My parents asked the Potters to our New Year's ball this year but apparently they declined."
"Our turn!" said Kaia as the woman in front of them disappeared into the fireplace with a whoosh.
Mr. Balini paid the Floo attendant and Kaia settled herself into the green flames. She stuck her head out and called "Happy Christmas, Remus!" before pulling back, stating her address, and disappearing with a whip of her cloak.
While she waited for her father to situate her trunk in the fire for her, Adin turned to Remus. "Dad says that starting next year I can invite some of my own friends to their New Year's ball, so you guys will all definitely be invited. Seems like a long time from now…a whole year. I tried to convince Dad to let me ask people this year, but he wouldn't budge on it." Mr. Balini made a gesture to Adin to hurry up into the flames and she shrugged at him before shooting Remus a final grin. "Anyway, see you back at school!" She threw a handful of Floo powder in front of her, stepped into the flames and vanished with a wave. Mr. Balini did not linger, but shook both Remus and his father's hands and then followed his daughters, disappearing with Kaia's trunk tightly in his grasp.
Remus's father gave him a swift, searching look before moving forward to pay the Floo attendant the eight Sickles required of them, and Remus did not have to ponder to understand his father's dubiety. His father had heard of only three friends of his at Hogwarts, and the idea that Remus was on friendly enough terms with his other classmates that he should be invited to a ball would have been very unsettling for Lyall Lupin. It was bad enough that Remus had gone off to visit the Potters each of the previous two summers; now he might be invited to the Balinis' as well?
As he stepped into the cool green flames, though, Remus could not find it in himself too much to care. It was not as if he was good friends with Adin or Kaia Balini or, indeed, anyone else at Hogwarts other than James, Sirius, and Peter. And even his father's anxiousness could not smother the glow of inclusion that Remus had felt at the idea that he, Remus Lupin, might at some point in the future be invited to a party at the house of Adin Balini, one of the more popular girls at Hogwarts.
"Lupin residence!" he said loudly, holding tightly to his trunk and anticipating the dizziness that would shortly follow. "Outskirts of Portsmouth!"
The sensation was not a pleasant one and Remus closed his eyes tightly as he spun through the network toward his family's little cottage, the sweets he had eaten from the lunch trolley rolling dangerously in his stomach…
"Remus!"
His mother's arms were around him not half a second after he had stumbled out of the fireplace, before he had even pried his eyes back open, her familiar honeysuckle scent enveloping him. He let go of his trunk with a thump and smiled into her shoulder, hugging her tightly.
"Look at you!" she said, pulling her head back to get a more thorough view of him. "Look at how much you've grown, you're as tall as me now!"
"Hi Mum," Remus said as a whoosh from the fireplace behind him alerted them to his father's appearance.
"Lyall – look, look how tall he is now, can you imagine?"
"I've only been gone a few months, Mum," Remus mumbled, tugging down the wrists of his cloak. "I haven't grown that much…"
"Nonsense, you look wonderfully healthy." His mother put her hands on either side of his face and pulled him gently toward her again to kiss his forehead. She had to rise up a bit on her toes to do it, Remus noticed.
"They feed him well at Hogwarts," said his father, who was guiding Remus's trunk toward the stairs with his wand. "You wouldn't believe it, Hope, but the platform Floo is now four Sickles a person, and that doesn't even include the powder. We'll probably just want to drive him back to London next time…"
"That's fine," said his mother distractedly, her eyes still raking over Remus as though trying to memorize him. "I don't mind driving him…"
Remus, though, who had never Apparated with his father before and had always wondered what it would be like, saw an opportunity. "We can Side-Along, Dad, I've always wanted to try –"
"No," said his father, starting up the stairs with the trunk. "It's too dangerous…you're not as strong as other boys your age."
"But it's the new moon in a few days and that's when I'm at my strongest, so maybe…"
"I said no. The last thing we need is for you to get splinched and end up in St. Mungo's. It isn't a discussion, Remus." It was lucky that his father was now up the stairs and out of sight, for he was unable to see the scowl that Remus sent after him.
"Don't worry about it, love. Here," said his mother, tugging at the collar of his cloak, "let me take this for you…"
"Mum – no, it's all right, I can –"
But his protest went unheard as his mother pulled the cloak from his shoulders and walked it toward the coat stand in the front hall. He took the moment to look around the little sitting room. It was unchanged since September, but that was unsurprising; the Lupin family had been forced to move around so much during Remus's childhood to hide his condition that as soon as they were able – as soon as Remus went off to Hogwarts – they settled into a comfortable, relief-laden stasis in their little cottage. It would not surprise Remus if in twenty years' time, the same photos hung on the same cream-colored walls, the same flowered valances framed the bright windows, the same pair of blue slippers sat in the same half-hidden position beneath the same tattered armchair. His parents had found stability in his absence. It was at once both heartbreaking and reassuring.
"I've made your favorite," said his mother, reentering the room and smiling warmly at him. "The turkey stew. It's been cooking for hours now, so the carrots will be nice and soft, just how you like them…"
"Thanks Mum," Remus said quietly. It was unnecessary for her to dote on him like this, but it was a warm comfort at the same time. "You didn't have to do all that."
"Of course I did," she said, her warm brown eyes brimming with tears. "I'm so happy to have you home, Remus."
She pulled him into another hug as his father reappeared and Remus realized with a jolt that this was the first time since he had been bitten – since before – that his parents could see him without the fear of the full moon looming. They would not have to deal with the wolf during this visit home and they were not subconsciously counting down the days until they would face it again. His mother was looking at him as Remus, just Remus. He hugged her back tightly.
Remus spent the hour before dinner in the kitchen with his mother, watching as she put the finishing touches on the stew and telling her about his lessons and all the new spells he had learned since he had been away. As always, he avoided speaking too much of his friends, though they were such an ingrained part of his life at Hogwarts that he was unable to omit them entirely from his stories. His father flitted in and out of the kitchen distractedly, which was unusual; normally when Remus returned home from school, his father tried to glean every detail that Remus was willing to cede to him. He wondered if he had done something to anger or worry his father on the train platform, but he couldn't figure out what that would have been. Perhaps it was his pressing about Apparition that had set him off. By the time they all sat down to eat, his father had spoken only four or five sentences in total since their return home.
"Remus, love," his mother said to him when he had finished telling them about his Arithmancy class, "I'm glad you're doing so well in your lessons, but you're still having some fun at school, aren't you? You've barely mentioned your friends. How are James and Peter and Sirius?"
"Oh." Remus glanced quickly at his father and then busied himself with his stew. "They're good, Mum, they're…"
"It's good that he's focusing on his schoolwork, Hope," interrupted his father before turning to Remus. "You're keeping enough distance from those boys, I hope. We haven't received any owls from Professor McGonagall this year, at any rate."
Remus could feel the heat rising in his face as he recalled the time in first year that Professor McGonagall had sent an owl to his parents after the Howler prank. "No…I mean, yes. I've been working hard, Dad…k-keeping my nose clean." He tried not to think of his part in the war on Filch, of James and Sirius absorbing all the punishment, of his ever-present guilt.
"He was in trouble one time, Lyall," said his mother in a patient but firm voice. "Must you remind him of it every time you see him?"
"It's all right, Mum, really…"
"That's one time too many," said his father, talking over him. "Professor Dumbledore is risking his own neck by allowing a werewolf to attend Hogwarts, but a trouble-making werewolf? What if he decides it's not worth the risk?"
It was not a new discussion. Indeed, it had been almost two years since that particular prank and Remus had begun to suspect that several of the lines on his father's forehead were a result of the stress that the Howler prank had induced.
"I'm staying out of trouble," said Remus, which was not technically a lie. "I promise. I'm focusing on my schoolwork. Professor Romielle says I'm one of the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and she's an Auror…"
"That's wonderful, dear." His mother reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "But your friends…I only mean…you're still getting on with them, right?"
"Yes. They're – they're great."
They fell into silence as they each went back to their stew, but it did not last long. "Remus," his father said, frowning slightly as if ruminating on something, "the girls in the queue, the Balini girls…they're in your year?"
From the corner of his eye, Remus saw his mother jerk her head up to look at him. He swallowed the bite he had just taken and said, "Er, just Adin. Kaia's a second year."
"I see. And Adin was the…talkative one?"
"Yes," said Remus, who felt this was about as apt a description as one could reasonably give of Adin Balini. "Why?"
"Girls?" said his mother with raised eyebrows, but his father only paid her a quick glance before turning back to Remus.
"No reason," he said. "I was just surprised to discover you were friends with so many…girls."
"Oh," said Remus, fidgeting uncomfortably. "I'm…not really friends with them."
"Friends enough that they call to you and talk to you and invite you to their parents' balls?"
His mother whipped toward him. "You were invited to a ball by a girl? Oh that's just wonderful, Remus!"
"No, Mum, no, it's not like that. We were behind them in the queue and she was just making conversation. She was asking after James and Sirius and…" He faded off before turning back to his father. "They're just girls in my lessons, Dad."
"Okay." His father nodded and returned his gaze to the bowl in front of him. He sighed. "Okay."
But it was clearly not okay, because Lyall stayed quiet for the remainder of dinner and sat silently in the corner reading his newspaper while Remus played chess with his mother that evening. He didn't say much of anything until Remus's mother turned in for the night and Remus made to follow her up the stairs and into his warm, waiting bed.
"Son?" Remus paused on the second step and turned back to his father, who had put his paper down on his knee and was now looking at him with a strange, hesitant expression. "I'd like to talk to you about something before you turn in."
With some trepidation, Remus returned to his previously vacated chair by the fire and sat gingerly on the edge, watching his father uncharacteristically fumble with his fingers. "Did I – did I do something wrong?"
"No." His voice was quiet, sad. "No, Remus, you didn't do anything wrong. But I just…need to speak with you…er, man to man." He paused and then let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Man to man. It feels odd saying that, but I reckon that's the point, eh? You're growing up. And it's not a problem, per se, but it could become one."
Remus stared. "I – I'm not sure I understand."
"Your transformations have been worse recently, haven't they?"
The change of subject was so abrupt that it took Remus a moment to understand what his father was asking him. "Er…yes. I mean, the really bad ones started this past summer, you know that…"
"Right." His father nodded, staring into the fire for so long that Remus began to get uncomfortable, but just as he was about to ask if that was all, his father cleared his throat and looked back at Remus. "Your transformations are getting worse because your body is changing. You're growing. And your voice is deeper. And I reckon you've started noticing girls? Having…thoughts…about them?"
The realization of exactly what kind of talk his father was trying to have with him caused Remus to recoil a bit in his chair. "Er…"
"It's all right that you have. It's normal for a boy your age. You'll be fourteen in a few months and it's just…well, I was hoping things might slow down a bit for us, but that's not how it works. Your condition doesn't stop you from growing up. It doesn't prevent you from having the same urges as every other young wizard your age."
Remus would have been perfectly content right then to let the armchair swallow him whole. Or perhaps to dive headfirst into the fire. Both options seemed preferable to listening to his father tell him about urges.
"Er, Dad…you don't have to…I mean, I already know about…about these things and why my transformations have got worse. I've read about it. The library at school has lots of books on lycanthropy…"
"You don't take those books out?" asked his father sharply, his awkward demeanor being overtaken by a sudden alertness. "You don't leave them in your dormitory for any of the other boys to find?"
"N-no. I only read them in the library and I'm careful, I promise."
"All right." His father sighed and pressed his fingertips hard into his eyes. He looked exhausted. "Here's the thing, Remus – and you don't have to give me any details if you don't want to – but you've started thinking about girls. Noticing them? Having new kinds of thoughts about them?"
Of course he had noticed girls, and it was impossible to not have thoughts about them when he was surrounded by friends who had no qualms making suggestive comments or, in Sirius's case, sneaking off to secluded parts of the castle with one. Remus did not fancy any girl in particular, but he certainly noticed them all.
His flush must have been answer enough, for his father continued, now more awkwardly. "The thing is, Remus, as normal as these changes are…you are not a normal thirteen-year-old boy. Other boys might be inclined to act on their urges – to ask a girl to Hogsmeade, for instance, or to hold her hand." Hold her hand…right. Remus knew for a fact that Sirius was not holding Gin's hand when they went off alone together. "You…you have to keep your distance."
A loud silence followed this proclamation, and the mortification that Remus had been feeling moments ago at the topic of conversation suddenly shifted into a gaping disquiet.
"Keep my distance?" he repeated, his voice sounding raspy in his own ears.
His father licked his lips and then stood to stoke the waning fire, his eyes fixed on the log that crumbled to ash at the touch of the iron poker. "I know you've made friends at Hogwarts and as discomforting as that is to me, I can't say it isn't nice to see how happy it's made you to have friends. But girls are different. Girls are clever. Girls…notice things that boys don't. You can't get close to a girl, Remus. You can't take one to Hogsmeade or meet up with one at fancy, pureblood balls…"
"I told you, I'm not even really friends with the Balinis, Dad –"
"That's not the point!" The words were spoken so harshly and loudly that Remus shrank backward as though he had been struck. Frustration was clearly tearing at his father, who dropped the poker against the wall with a clang and began pacing in front of the fire. "It won't be long until the kids in your year start getting girlfriends and boyfriends and running round together doing whatever it is that young witches and wizards do these days. You cannot partake, Remus. You cannot have a girlfriend. You cannot entertain the idea. You cannot get your hopes up that a girl wouldn't notice your disappearances. A girl would pay close attention to you. A girl would wonder why once a month you can't eat lunch with her in the Great Hall. A girl would notice that once a month you're too tired to take a walk with her around the lake. A girl would catch onto you, and most girls – at least most girls who I have known – would not let it drop. She would ask questions. She would dig. She would discover your secret and then where will we be?"
He could not bring himself to meet his father's eye, so he stared resolutely at his knee, willing himself not to snap at his father, not to tell him that he was wrong about Remus's friends, so who's to say he was not also wrong about girls. But something told him that his father was not wrong on this account. It was different with his friends. They could keep their distance if they chose, but a girl…what would a girl do if she discovered she had kissed or held the hand of a half-breed like him? Remus had never thought about having any sort of romantic relationship before, so he had not considered the implications his condition might have on such a situation. Now that he did, though, he was forced to see the reason behind his father's worry.
After all, why shouldn't his curse affect his outlook on love just as much as it affected every other aspect of his life?
Slowly, he raised his eyes to his father, who had stopped pacing and was staring at him, awaiting his response. "I understand." His voice was quiet, but the rasp from before had vanished.
The way the firelight flickered across his father's face made him look as old as Professor Dumbledore at that moment. "Do you? Do you really?"
"Yes. I know that I can't… I know that I can't be with girls like other boys." He swallowed down his embarrassment. "I don't even fancy anyone, Dad, b-because I know it would be a waste of time."
His father sat back down in his armchair again and rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together against his forehead as if in prayer. Remus watched him, wondering why this conversation, of all things, had made him feel guilty. It was he, after all, who was realizing for the first time that he would never be able to date or kiss or fall in love like a normal boy. So why did he feel so terribly for his father at that moment?
"Dad?"
His father looked up at him, tired eyes rimmed in red. "I'm sorry, Remus. I know this isn't easy."
"It's all right," he said softly. And then, because he wondered if he could make his dad laugh at that moment, "Besides, I'm not used to things being easy. I'm not sure I'd know what to do if it was."
He was rewarded with a small, watery smile. His father sat back in his seat and Remus could almost see some of the tension escaping his shoulders. He looked closely at Remus. "Are you very tired?"
"I'm okay. Why?"
"Well if you aren't too ready to run off to bed, I was hoping you could tell me more about your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. An Auror, you say? And she thinks you're one of the best in the year?"
Remus grinned and settled back in his chair.
Despite the cold, grey rain that incessantly began falling the evening they arrived at the Potter house, the days leading up to Christmas were nothing short of idyllic for Sirius. On the second full day of their stay, the boys decided to brave the elements to walk up the hill and visit the Muggle cinema for the very first time. James's mother had cast Warming and Impervius Charms on them both to keep them nice and dry for the walk there. Both charms wore off as they sat in the dark theater, enthralled by the story unfolding before their eyes, but by the time they walked home (after a cursory stop in the Muggle record shop) they were both so energized by the experience that neither noticed the dreary dampness that had settled into their clothes.
"Look at you both," Mrs. Potter said upon their return. "You're soaked through to the bone. I'd no idea these Muggle adventures would last quite so long."
"Mum, you wouldn't believe it. The people – they were as big as giants, the picture was so ginormous! And the Muggles – they have these special wands that kill people –"
"Guns!" Sirius added exuberantly, shaking water droplets from his hair onto the polished floor of the foyer. Mrs. Potter summoned some warm, fluffy towels and began drying both boys off. "They call them guns and they shoot little balls at you like spells!"
"And there were these fake Muggles – what do they call them? – like robots. And they came to life and were trying to kill all the real Muggles, but then the good Muggle, a real one I mean…"
"…he set the fake one on fire in the end!"
"And we were thinking – Mum, Mum! Stop for a second –"
Mrs. Potter paused in her attempts to dry off James's head and frowned at her son. "You're going to become ill, James, it's freezing out there and you both look like you've jumped in the lake."
"I'm not going to become ill, Mum, we're trying to tell you about the film!"
"Flora!" called Mrs. Potter, ignoring James and turning her ministrations back to Sirius. The old house elf appeared at her side at once. "Oh, Flora, will you please run hot baths for the boys? They need to get nice and warm. And have Ant make them some tea…"
"Yes, Madam," squeaked Flora, bowing low before hurrying off to tend to her duties.
"Mum, we were thinking," continued James as he shucked off his wet shoes, "the fake Muggles in the film…I mean, they were created so that the real Muggles could have practice with shooting their guns, but what if wizards did that? What if we created fake wizards to practice spells against so you're not accidentally cursing your mates?"
"You shouldn't be cursing anyone James, and if those are the kinds of spells you're practicing at school…"
"We're not. Merlin, Mum, it's a hypothetical…"
"There's a new one opening after Christmas – a new film, I mean," said Sirius as James's mother helped him out of his cloak and began drying his shirt with hot air from her wand. "And there was a poster for it where you buy the tickets and the Muggle who sold us the tickets said it's supposed to be just fantastic and can we go back to see it after Christmas, Mrs. Potter?"
"Of course we can, right Mum?"
"Well, I suppose," said Mrs. Potter, now turning her wand toward James. "Though maybe I'll have your father drive you up there next time…"
"We don't mind walking!" said Sirius, practically bouncing up and down in his eagerness. "We went into the record shop on the way back –"
"Has that record shop always been there, Mum? How come I've never been in it before?"
Mrs. Potter pulled James's glasses from his face to siphon the water droplets off. James made an unsuccessful grab for them and then fixed her with a squinting frown while he waited for her to finish. "You boys went all the way up the high street? No wonder you're soaked through!"
"Mum, are you listening to a word we're saying?"
"Yes, yes, the record shop," she said, handing him back his glasses and turning him around by the shoulders to dry the back of his shirt. "You've never been interested before, James, why on earth would you have gone into a Muggle record shop?"
"Because it was bloody marvelous –"
"Watch it, young man…"
"And the bloke who was working in there…what was his name, Sirius?"
"Chester."
"Right, the bloke Chester let us go into a booth in the back and listen to a bit of a Muggle record and Mum, can I get a record player for Christmas?"
"James, Christmas is in two days!"
"I know, but I really want one and Sirius does too, so it can be like a gift for both of us, because it'd stay in our room at school and Sirius spends so much of his holidays here anyway and – stop, Mum, I'm dry, I'm dry!"
He danced away from her before giving her a hopeful, pleading expression.
"Well, I don't know…I'll talk to your father and see…"
"Brilliant!" said James, taking this as a given victory and turning to sprint up the stairs. "Come on, Sirius!"
"James Potter, neither of you is going to get any gifts at all if you're at St. Mungo's with pneumonia," she called up after their retreating forms, "so you'd better go take those baths Flora is drawing for you and warm up before dinner."
"Okay, Mum, okay!"
It was not such a surprise, then, when Sirius and James walked into the sitting room on Christmas morning to find a brand new shining record player sitting underneath the tree.
"It's perfect!" James sang, hopping up and down in his excitement while Sirius sat down on the floor to examine it more closely. "Thanks Mum! Thanks Dad!"
"Happy Christmas, dear," said Mrs. Potter, steadying James's motions enough to give him a kiss on the side of the head. Sirius tried not to look too overly pleased when she swept down and kissed him on the head as well.
"Happy Christmas!" he said, grinning at her before turning back to the record player. "Look! It says here that it can play both Muggle and wizard records. I've some more Muggle pounds upstairs, maybe we can go back to the record shop and –"
James gave a whoop. "Let's go this afternoon!"
"The shop won't be open again until Wednesday," Mr. Potter cut in, smiling warmly at the boys' excitement as he settled into an armchair and accepted a cup of tea from Flora. "If the weather's poor, I'll drive you both up there and to the cinema as well."
Sirius collapsed backward onto the floor and stared up at the twinkling lights that adorned the Christmas tree, not even attempting to fight the gleeful smile that took over his face. "Blimey, this is the best Christmas ever."
"Come on, then," James said, giving his leg a kick, "we haven't even got to our other gifts yet!"
The other gifts only intensified Sirius's good cheer. He was given a large pile of new Muggle clothes from James's parents, who laughed at his thrilled reaction to the jeans and jumpers. From Peter, he received a few new tricks from Zonko's, and from Remus, several new pairs of wooly, warm socks, which both Sirius and James found rather amusing. The package from Andromeda included some homemade fudge, a nice note, and several photos of baby Nymphadora, who was now chubby-cheeked and who blew spit bubbles at her mother from beneath a mop of curly red hair. Sirius made the mistake of tasting the fudge before reading Andromeda's letter, which apologized for her decided lack of culinary talent.
"Blech!" Sirius gagged, spitting the fudge from his mouth back into the parcel wrapper. "It tastes like dragon dung."
James snorted. "Reckon she doesn't have a team of house elves to do her baking anymore."
"Either that or the fudge is actually from Bellatrix and it's been poisoned."
"Seems likely," James said, tossing his newly-unwrapped Quaffle at Sirius, who caught it before it smacked him in the face. "I know I think about offing you every other day and poisoned fudge seems like a good – Merlin!" he exclaimed, staring at the latest gift he had just pulled into his lap. "The newest practice set. It's fantastic! Thanks Dad!"
"It should help you when you're flying here, at least," said Mr. Potter, who had just unwrapped a rather ugly new hat for himself. "When you can't let your actual Bludgers and Snitch out…"
"What's it do?" asked Sirius, eyeing the set, which seemed to hold a perfectly normal Bludger and a small golden Snitch.
"The Bludger's made of foam or something. It's soft, see, so you can practice dodges and swerves without getting too bloodied up. The Snitch flies in patterns so that Seekers can practice agility and catching without their Snitches zooming off into the countryside. I can't wait to…"
"James," said Mrs. Potter, evidently recognizing the look on her son's face, "you have to wait until after lunch to try them out."
"But –"
"After lunch," she repeated. "You've still a whole pile of gifts to get through."
James's pout was short-lived, as he soon became distracted with the new chessboard he had just received, though by the time they sat down to lunch he was so anxious to get in the air that he scarfed down his ham in record time. He and Sirius thus spent the rest of the afternoon on the makeshift Quidditch pitch behind the house, breaking in James's new gear and diving in and out of the icy rain drops until the moment when they were called in by Mrs. Potter, who was armed once again with her fluffy warm towels and another lecture on playing in the cold rain. Christmas dinner was the best that Sirius had ever had at the Potters' and he was struck anew by the sense of comforted contentment he felt surrounded by James's family.
It was a bit surreal, actually, and for a moment Sirius could see the situation from afar, as if he were watching their scene play out on the huge screen at the Muggle cinema: he watched as James tried to convince his father to let them have a bit of the wine, watched himself pull a Christmas cracker with Ant, who bowed and laughed graciously as he affixed the ridiculous top hat to Sirius's head, watched Mrs. Potter squeeze his shoulder so gently and naturally as she walked behind his chair. He thought of the cold, formal dinner that was no doubt being hosted in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place at that exact moment, the icy silence in place of laughter, piercing fingernails in place of warm touches. It was sharp and sudden, a finger-prick of longing for the family he didn't have, and then it was gone as a laughing Mr. Potter poured them each a few sips of the wine and a victorious James raised his goblet in the air and cried, "Huzzah! To the lowest and the best of Christmas miracles!"
The wine tasted sharp and foreign and not particularly good, but Sirius drank it anyway, the small sips gone all too soon, and Mr. Potter staunchly resisted when James began needling him for more. The feast and revelry lasted late into the evening and James disappeared upstairs not long after they all had retreated from the dining table. Sirius knew that James was waiting for him, but he couldn't object when Mr. Potter asked for his help with the crossword puzzle, and they sat next to the fire in the sitting room for over an hour, trying to figure out the correct synonym for enchantment (six letters) and the dangerous loch dweller of magical lore (nine letters). Therefore, when Sirius received no answer to his knock on James's bedroom door later that night, he assumed James had simply fallen asleep. They had planned to exchange Christmas gifts in private, neither boy particularly inclined to parade their gift under the nose of James's parents. When Sirius's second knock also received no answer, he shoved James's present in his pocket, cracked open the door, and stuck his head inside.
Seeing that the lamps were still lit and James's bed empty, Sirius allowed himself full entrance into the room and closed the door gently behind him. It was only when he turned around did he spot James, and Sirius leapt back in surprise at the sight. James was sitting underneath the window, his eyes closed, his legs crossed, his hands on his knees, and his body hovering six inches off the ground.
Had he not seen Peter in the very same position on multiple occasions in the fourth-floor secret passageway, perhaps Sirius's shock would have been more profound. As it was, though, it only took a second for the surprise to wear off and for him to sink to the ground across from James with a sigh, awaiting the moment when his friend would thump back to earth, triumphant – finally – in making the initial connection with his Animagus Form. Sirius sat silently, flipping the wrapped parcel between his fingers, watching James with interest and trying not to feel too jealous. Despite their months and months of trying, he was now the only one of the three unable to connect. He was now the only one holding them back.
At length, James gave a great gasp and slumped back down to earth, blinking rapidly as though trying to regain his bearings.
"Was it all you dreamed of and more?" Sirius asked, the mocking edge to his voice instinctive, defensive.
James either did not pick up on the tone or decided not to acknowledge it. He regained his bearings, hopped to his feet with surprising quickness and began pacing back and forth in front of the window, a wide smile splitting his face. "It bloody well was! Merlin, that was…that was…like a dream, almost…but…"
"But Evans wasn't in it, so…less sticky? Oi!" Sirius laughed as James kicked him hard in the side.
"I do not fancy Evans."
"Yeah, yeah," said Sirius, dismissing him with a disbelieving wave of the hand. "So your connection…"
"It was like Peter's been saying – I was feeling good tonight so I decided to give it another go while I was waiting for you to show and I got to the point where I felt it starting, but instead of pulling myself out of it, I kind of, I don't know, fell into it. And then I was back in the forest by the lake, in my trance state, and it was just like…peace. Like the easiest, lightest peace I've ever felt."
"Sure you're not just drunk off the three sips of wine from dinner?"
James stopped pacing and grinned down at him. "That was pretty good, eh? And the Boneses are coming round tomorrow, so I'm sure I can wheedle some more out of my dad, or maybe we can nick some when no one's looking…" Sirius nodded but said nothing, and James looked closely at him, his smile fading. For a moment it seemed like he was going to say something, perhaps something encouraging or supportive, but then he thought better of it and reached over to grab a small, wrapped parcel off of his bed, which he tossed to Sirius.
"Cheers," said Sirius, grateful that James had not raised the subject of his lack of Animagus progress. He tore into the packaging to find a small box. "A diamond necklace? You shouldn't have."
James rolled his eyes. "You're a prat. Open it, will you?"
A small, rectangular piece of rubber fell out of the box when Sirius pulled it open, and Sirius checked to see if there was anything else contained within. Satisfied that this was all there was, Sirius examined the rubber curiously. It was about the width of two of his fingers, and only half as long. It had no markings on it at all, though half of it was a bubblegum pink color and the other half a creamy white. He flipped it through his fingers a few times before looking back up at James with a confused frown.
"What is it?"
"It's bloody perfect, is what it is. Watch," said James, moving to the other side of the bedroom to dig hurriedly through his school bag, which had been thrown haphazardly in the corner upon arrival home and ignored since. After a second, he pulled out an old, scrawled-upon Herbology paper and proceeded to tear the parchment straight in half down the middle as he returned to Sirius's side and sat down cross-legged on the floor next to him. "Give it here."
Sirius handed the piece of rubber over and watched as James rubbed the pink side gently over a line of his Herbology essay, which remained unchanged.
"What are you –"
"Watch," James repeated, waving off the question. He then proceeded to flip the other half of his essay over to the back, clean side of the parchment. With less precision than before, he rubbed the white half of the rectangle onto the parchment. Glistening with wet ink, the same line of James's Herbology paper appeared as though just written with a sharp new quill.
"Merlin…" began Sirius in awe.
"It's a Duplicator," James told him, tossing it back. Sirius caught the small piece of rubber and now looked down upon it as though it was lost treasure. "The Prophet used to use them in the print department, so they could have unqualified witches and wizards producing the papers. Don't have to pay unqualifieds much, do you? But that got outlawed years ago, and these Duplicators went out of fashion."
"And we can use it," said Sirius. "Of course we can use it…"
"Not for schoolwork…"
"Right, if we turn in the exact same papers, even the daftest professors might get suspicious. But for notes…"
"Detention slips…"
"Tardy passes…"
"Just think, next time Sprout or someone writes one of us a tardy pass, we just duplicate her signature and write ourselves enough to be late whenever we need."
"That's not bad," Sirius nodded, impressed with the logic. "McGonagall'll see straight through it, but the other professors won't. And here," he said, thrusting his own gift into James's hand, "this ought to help free up some of our time even more."
James pulled open the paper and gazed down at the two thin strips of wood, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Wands? Mate, I don't know how to break it to you, but I've already got a wand…"
"Fake wands," Sirius corrected him, reaching over to snatch up the wand closest to him. "And not the rubbishy joke kind you can get in Zonko's. These don't do much of anything, except they'll vibrate a bit if you grip them too tightly, to make them seem real."
"I'm not following…"
"I've been looking into some simple transfigurations to change this one," he twirled the fake wand between his fingers, "to about twelve inches, cedar, and this one," he plucked up the second wand from the packaging and waved it in front of James, "to a bit shorter and…mahogany, isn't it?"
"And why would we want fake wands that don't do anything but look like our real wands – unless –" James's eyes lit up with understanding. "– you mean for detention? To hand over to the professors?"
Sirius could not suppress his excitement at their brilliance. "It won't work on McGonagall, either, and probably not on Flitwick, but just imagine… We're in detention with Filch or Pince or Hagrid and they tell us to hand over our wands and set us to cleaning bedpans or cauldrons without magic…"
"…and then they leave us to it for a few hours, supposing we don't have our wands to get away with anything…"
"…so we cast a few Scourgify spells and voila, we now have two free hours to do with what we please, while the professors are thinking we're serving our rightful punishments…"
"…and no one's the wiser." James took one of the wands out of Sirius's hand and spun it through his fingers. "That's genius."
"Yes, well don't act surprised," said Sirius. "Everyone knows I'm the brilliant Marauder, after all."
James snorted and gave him a light cuff on the arm, but Sirius was too tired at the moment to retaliate. He tilted his head back against the end of the bed and grinned lazily out the dark window, embarrassingly content for now sitting next to James, reveling in their own cleverness, and doing his best to concentrate on the new tools that would aide them at Hogwarts and not on his inability to connect with his Animagus Form.
The Hogwarts teachers, he reckoned as he and James spun their fake wands in sync with one another, really didn't stand a chance.