A/N: Thank you for reading! I do not own Harry Potter, in case you've somehow confused me with JK Rowling.
Chapter 30 - 3.9 or "A Bit of Cheering Up"
The photos were splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet on the 28th of December with no remorse or care given as to who might see them – loved ones, children, those who had not heard the news. Above them screamed the headline, MASS MURDER, MINISTRY BREACHED, and below them, the accompanying articles provided very little concrete information, fueling panic and confusion across the wizarding world like a contagion.
"…discovered by a Ministry watchwizard on the morning of 28 December during standard security rounds…"
Bodies. Five of them.
"…strung up, as though by invisible ropes, as can be seen in the photograph above…"
Gruesome, floating bodies, their limp hands pulled above their heads like dusty, forgotten marionettes.
"…yet to be identified, with the exception of Matilda Orpington, who was reported missing three weeks ago…"
Their faces blurred clumsily out of the photos, as if as an afterthought.
"…suspected to be the work of an anti-establishment faction of wizards that, top sources are reporting, are led by a sorcerer called Lord Voldemort…"
It was lucky, in hindsight, that for Christmas that year, Remus's parents had gifted him his first subscription to the Daily Prophet, for otherwise, his father may not have told him anything about the terrible happenings and Remus would have been blindsided upon returning to Hogwarts for the new term. As it was, though, he had nearly as much information as James and Sirius when they reunited on the Hogwarts Express the following week, and the three boys spent the vast majority of the train ride discussing the strange events and, somewhat worriedly, conjecturing on the noticeable absence of one Peter Pettigrew.
"Probably just missed the train," Sirius suggested. "With all the security on the platform slowing things down, it'd be easy to do."
"Must be it," nodded James. "He'd owl us otherwise for cert."
Another theory was posed after the trolley witch had been by that afternoon, when Adin Balini stopped into their compartment to say hello (Remus became suddenly distracted by his own fingers) and to report that many parents had decided to bring their children back to Hogwarts personally instead of allowing them to ride the train. Goomer and Raeanne were among the group and had sent Mary Macdonald an owl that morning telling her not to worry, that they would meet her back at Hogwarts that evening.
But Peter, unlike Goomer and Raeanne, didn't show up that evening at dinner, and when the boys turned in for the night, casting loaded, concerned glances at one another, Peter's bed remained empty.
"We've Transfiguration after morning break," said James, poking at his eggs the next morning with rather less gusto than usual. "We'll ask McGonagall where he is then."
"You think she'll tell us?" asked Remus.
"They've got to tell us something. Our friend's missing. And if McGonagall doesn't know, we'll head up to the Owlery at lunch and send him a letter, straight away. Right Sirius? Sirius?"
Sirius, though, did not appear to be listening at all, and was staring with a strange, intent look on his face at the Slytherin table. The atmosphere in the Great Hall was more subdued than usual, with students talking quietly to one another, conducting more serious conversations than the laughter and lighthearted chatter that was standard, but the Slytherin table was a different story. Great shouts of mirth rang out from groups surrounding Marshall Avery and Rabastan Lestrange and Dexter Selwyn and many other Slytherins who Remus could not name. They seemed…happy. At the very least, they did not reflect the hesitance of the rest of the student population.
"Bunch of slimy berks," Sirius said, glowering at the Slytherins. "Look at them all over there, all smug and cheerful…"
James turned in his seat to glance at the Slytherin table before spinning back around and giving them both a wry grin. "I'm sure we can think of something to take them down a few notches."
After the mayhem at the end of the first term, an assault on the Slytherins was not exactly the way that Remus wanted to start the new year. He decided his best tactic was to distract his friends before they started scheming. "James, you can't send Ari off to Peter this morning. He still hasn't gotten back from his delivery to Stuart, remember?"
James and Sirius, of course, had spent a considerable bit of time filling Remus in on the events of Boxing Day at the Potter house, including the subsequent morning when Edgar and a pale, weakened Stuart had left the house with an unsatisfying goodbye. James had been sending Ari off to them every day since, trying to garner a more detailed explanation for what had transpired when they had disappeared so abruptly that night. The Bones brothers had, most frustratingly, remained silent.
"Oh yeah," James said, swallowing down a mouthful of egg. "We can send a school owl, then. Ari's no good in the snow anyhow."
Sirius, though, was not so easily distracted. "I'm thinking we revert back to form and get the entire house with something," he told James in a voice low enough that Hestia Jones, who was sitting on the other side of Remus, would not be able to hear him. "None of this singling anyone out rubbish. Show the entire house that they're no better than anyone else."
"They are better than everyone else, though," said James in mock seriousness. "Better at smelling like an old pile of rotting rubbish."
"Snivelly's odor must be wearing off on them all," agreed Sirius.
"How could it not? Sharing a dormitory with him…" Both James and Sirius shivered dramatically. "It's a wonder they don't make him sleep in the Forbidden Forest to keep the stench away…"
"Ah, just imagine the possibilities…a giant spider eats him in his sleep and nobody ever even realizes he's gone."
"It's not like anyone would miss him."
"Rosier might," said Sirius, his lip curling as he watched the Slytherin in question stop on his way down the aisle to mention something to Snape. "What's he doing talking to Snape, anyway?"
"Maybe he's explaining to him the fine art of a having a bath."
"He'll be talking for a while, then, I reckon."
Remus had learned a long time ago that it was no use to try and interrupt the pair of them when they got going like this, so he settled into his porridge and hoped that they would not rope him into whatever it was they would be planning against the Slytherins. Luckily, distraction arrived a few minutes later in the form of the post. There was a swell of chatter as the owls swooped into the Great Hall, backlit by the swirling, grey clouds, but the noise soon faded into a hesitant whisper as the students waited with apprehension to discover what news would be brought to them today. A tall, spotted owl dropped Remus's copy of the Daily Prophet unceremoniously into his breakfast bowl, and he had just wiped off the porridge and had started to unfurl the tight roll when James's exclamation caused him to pause and look up at his friends.
"Finally! Look, it's from Stu!"
James untied the letter from Ari's leg with hasty fingers. The owl nipped him affectionately before helping himself to a bit of James's bacon, but James did not seem to care. Remus and Sirius both watched as he tore into the envelope and peeled open the letter within, his eyes zooming back and forth across it at lightning speed.
"Well?" urged Sirius, after a few minutes of waiting that could – almost – be considered patient. Apparently it was a rather long letter.
James let out a noise that hovered somewhere between exasperation and confused frustration before thrusting the letter across the table at his friends. Sirius snatched it from him at once and Remus had to slide closer to him to be able to read it over his shoulder.
"James -
Not exactly the king of subtlety, are you? I'd barely been able to crawl into bed and choke down a few Blood Replenishing Potions before your barrage of owls began, and, let me mention, I was a mite offended that you only asked me how I was feeling seven times. I mean, I about had all of my insides cursed out with one errant spell. You'd think I'd get a bit more sympathy from the kid who used to follow me around with his toy broomstick, begging me to play Knock with him. Eddie's been slaving day and night as my nursemaid, all teary-eyed and grateful that I'm not, you know, dead or something. (Though Eddie's turned into a bit of a nancy since he started dating Megan – he'd have never been caught dead administering me pain potions before.) (Don't tell him I said that, I quite like having a manservant to attend to my every whim).
Anyway, from your inability to accept my ignoring your letters as any sort of indication to stop asking questions, I've deduced that you want some more information about what happened the night I was so brutally and heroically maimed. I've decided, in an effort to allow you to stop writing me and get on with your life of mischief and snooping and general mayhem, to give you the overview of what actually occurred that evening.
You see, there's this girl. Sue. Her name is Sue. Sirius and I had a brief chat about her in the kitchen that night, you can ask him about it if he didn't mention it. Sue's a bitch, by the by, feel like I should mention that. Real stuck up, thinks she's the best witch to grace the earth since Agrippa. She needs to get her head out of her arse, if you ask me. Anyway, I digress. Sue took some things from some friends of mine, last time I saw her, and then ran off, so we'd been looking for her ever since. When you and Sirius and Eddie and I were playing Arcana that night, that letter we got was from a mutual friend, who had found Sue. Well, Eddie and I could hardly pass up the opportunity to go and see if we could get our friends' stuff back, but Sue's dodgy and doesn't stay in one place for long, so we knew we wouldn't have much time to yak about. Thanks for covering for us, by the way. My parents don't know much about Sue, and you know how parents are…the less you have to tell them about your personal life, the better.
So Eddie and I go off, meet up with the friends who had their stuff filched, and set out to ambush Sue. Only problem was that Sue's turned into a bit of a slag lately and had about twenty of her own friends with her when we found her, many of whom had clearly been partaking in some holiday cheer. They were rowdy and weren't interested in having a civil discourse with us about all that their darling Sue had taken. So we got into it a bit, us and them, and before long it was a full-on duel. Sue disappeared early. She's not one for fighting much herself, prefers others to do her dirty work, as it were. I took a curse to the gut. I'm sure you sorted that one out yourself. We weren't able to get any of our things back, either, so all in all it was a pretty rubbish outing, as far as outings go. But we put a bit of a worry into Sue, at the least, and we're hoping maybe she won't be as likely to go round nicking people's things so lax like in the future.
Hope this clears some questions up for you, James, and I reckon you'll let Sirius know what all this is about too, but don't go spreading it around, all right? I've got a reputation to uphold, after all, and if people start finding out that I let a girl like Sue get the best of me, well, I'll never hear the end of it from Eddie. So keep quiet and for the love of Merlin, give your poor owl a holiday…thing seems like he's going to keel over from utter exhaustion. I'm sure I'll be seeing you at the Cup this summer, so we can chat more then and you can ooh and ahh over my very manly and intimidating scar. And in the meantime, brush up on your card skills, mate. You're a shit Arcana player.
Best,
Stu"
Reaching the bottom of the letter, Remus looked up at his two friends, who were staring at each other as though trying to read the other's mind.
"Sue?" Sirius said, biting back a laugh. "Not very inventive, is he? Sue and Stu?"
Ensuring that no one around them was paying any attention (Hestia Jones was thoroughly entranced in her copy of the Prophet), Remus leaned in and whispered, "By 'Sue,' he means…Voldemort…right?"
"Guess so," said James, who had taken back the letter from Sirius and was now frowning down at it once more. "Not a lot of information that we didn't already have, though. And what does he mean, I'm a shit Arcana player?"
"Maybe we shouldn't talk about this here," suggested Remus, looking around them again. "He said to keep quiet about it."
Sirius, of course, could not be dissuaded. "Reckon he had to make up that whole story in case the owl fell into the wrong hands, then?"
James nodded slowly. "Remember what Eddie said to my mum that night when she was fixing Stu up? It was something about how they couldn't go to St. Mungo's because the others knew they had cursed someone and would be watching to see if anyone was brought in."
"So whatever Eddie and Stu were doing there that night, and whoever they were with, it sounds like Voldemort's men didn't know who they were."
"They're operating in secrecy," said James, his eyes alight as if he had just unraveled some sort of exciting mystery.
Remus fidgeted before leaning in over the table to whisper, "Right. Secrecy. So let's not blab to the entire Great Hall about it now."
"All right, all right," said James, rolling his eyes as he folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket.
"We could skive off the first lesson," Sirius said, turning back to his sausage.
"Nah, we've Romielle. She's a stickler for attendance. We'll wait until break to suss it out."
"I thought we were going up to the Owlery at break?" Remus pointed out.
"And the Owlery seems like as good a place as any to have a private conversation, does it not?" said James. "So long as you don't care if the birds overhear."
Remus shrugged and finished unrolling his copy of the Daily Prophet, hoping that it would be able to distract him from thoughts of Stuart and Voldemort and secret operations, but he was sorely mistaken. He took one glance at the front page and proceeded to drop the paper back onto the table in surprise.
"What?" James asked curiously as Sirius looked over Remus's shoulder at the paper.
"It's…well, they've released the names of the people they found in the Ministry," he said, collecting himself and grabbing at the paper once more. "And they've un-blurred the photographs."
He showed the front page to James, who grimaced. "Blimey, you'd think they'd have more taste than to run those photos every bloody day."
The top photo was, indeed, not something that any civilized person would want to look at, much less have thrust upon them as they tried to eat their breakfast. Today's image no longer had the blurs over the faces of the victims as the paper had used in the previous days, and their pale, expressionless faces made the image all the more haunting. They hung creepily in front of a fountain in the atrium of the Ministry, strung up and looking unnaturally elongated, like poultry in a butcher shop window. Remus swallowed and turned his attention to the article underneath the blaring headline, FALLEN FIVE IDENTIFIED.
"The Ministry of Magic has released the names of those individuals who have collectively come to be known as 'The Fallen Five,' whose bodies were discovered in the Ministry atrium on 28 December as part of an intimidation strategy by unknown wizards. Until this point, four of the deceased's identities have only been speculated upon, with the fifth being reported as Matilda Orpington…"
"Read them aloud, will you?" said James, who was craning his neck in an attempt to get a view of the upside-down paper from across the table.
Remus steeled himself and began. "Matilda Orpington, 43, granddaughter of celebrated former Minister of Magic, Evangeline Orpington, and outspoken proponent for Muggle-born rights. Greta Grousle, 37, columnist for Witch Weekly, whose October article 'How to Enchant Muggle Men with No Magic At All!' caused a stir among traditional readers. Caius Doge –"
"Doge!" James cut in. "Doge…remember we heard my parents talking about him? About how he had disappeared?"
"Caius Doge, 96," Remus went on. "Erstwhile barrister for the Wizengamot and known for taking particularly radical stances on issues of Muggle policy inclusion. Samuel Bernard, 51, head of the Department of Magical Transportation and the highest ranking Muggle-born currently employed by the Ministry of Magic. Denise Bernard, wife of Samuel Bernard. A Muggle." He looked up at his friends, the smell of the breakfast before him now making him rather queasy. "It's…awful."
"It's sick," agreed Sirius, his face dark. "They can't get away with this, the bastards."
"They can if the Prophet keeps helping them like this," said Hestia Jones, who was packing up her things with angry haste and had evidently overheard their conversation. All three boys turned to look at her.
"The Prophet helping them?" repeated James. "What do you mean?"
Remus had barely ever spoken with the seventh year, and only knew her name because she was a Gryffindor prefect. As it was, she stuffed her own copy of the paper into her bag and stood up with an aggravated huff.
"The pureblood propaganda they've been spouting ever since those poor people were found is what I mean," she said, with an unnecessary glare at both James and Sirius.
"What are you on about?" said Sirius. "None of this is pureblood rubbish, it's just reporting who the dead people are."
"Right," scoffed Hestia. "And you don't think that telling the world exactly how they are related to Muggles or Muggle-born rights is going to dissuade others from taking up those stances? That when purebloods like Caius Doge and Matilda Orpington are brutally murdered and strung up for everyone and their children to see, that doesn't cause other purebloods to stop sticking up for Muggle-borns? You may be a Gryffindor, Black, but you've a lot to learn."
And with that, she stalked away toward the entrance hall. Sirius looked at his friends in shock. "What did I ever do to her, anyway?"
They didn't have a chance to answer, though, because at that moment, Hestia's vacant seat was filled by none other than a harried, slightly pink Peter Pettigrew.
"Peter!"
"You're here!"
"Where in Merlin's name have you been?"
Several nearby students turned to glance at the boys' loud reactions to the sudden appearance of their friend. Peter slumped on the bench, clearly uncomfortable with all the eyes on him, his cheeks turning pinker by the second.
"My mother," he said as if delivering ghastly news, "is pregnant."
"What?"
"You're joking!"
"Pregnant?"
They all gaped at him.
"With a baby?"
"No, with a pony," James said to Sirius, rolling his eyes. Sirius threw a bit of bacon at James, which sailed by his ear and hit the back of a Hufflepuff's head at the next table over. The girl turned around, scowling, but Sirius just gave her a smile and a wave.
"Er," said Remus after a moment, "well…congratulations, Peter!"
"Yeah, big brother, eh?" added James, clearly trying to buoy his friend's spirits. "That's great!"
"No, it's not great," Peter mumbled. "A baby. My mum. Can you believe it? I mean, she's old."
"She's not nearly as old as my mum," James pointed out.
This did not seem to register for Peter. "What do they need another kid for, huh? They never mentioned wanting to have another baby before."
Sirius reached around Remus to cuff Peter on the shoulder. "Maybe it was an accident. Maybe your dad forgot his Charms, Pete."
"Eurgh!"
"What is wrong with you?"
"You are sick in the head."
Sirius gave them a wicked grin and tore a rather large bite out of a waffle. "What? I'm just being practical here. You all do know where babies come from, right?"
He could feel his neck getting hot, but Remus rolled his eyes anyway. "That doesn't mean you need to remind Peter about his parents…you know…"
"Shagging," supplied James unhelpfully.
Peter let out a piteous groan and plonked his face down into his arms. "Can we stop talking about this now, please?"
"Wait, no we can't stop talking about it!" said Sirius indignantly. "What does your mum being pregnant have to do with you not showing up on the train yesterday?"
"Yeah," added James, "is she so big that she was blocking the doorway or what? And why didn't you owl us?"
"No," Peter said, looking back up at them all with a miserable expression. "She's not even big yet, but she's gone completely mental. Barmy like. She was going on and on about how she didn't want me coming back to Hogwarts at all, how it's not safe."
"Hogwarts, not safe? You're joking. We've got Dumbledore!"
"I know that. And you know that. And anyone with a brain knows that. But apparently my mum's brain has been absorbed by her, you know, belly or whatever. She's been off her rocker ever since those people were found in the Ministry last week." Peter threw a quick glance at the front page of the paper that sat in front of Remus and then looked away quickly, shivering. "She says it could have been my dad, because he works night shifts sometimes, and it could have just as easily been him that found those people, or else ran across the wizards who were leaving them there…"
Based on the confused looks that James and Sirius exchanged with one another, Remus deduced that they had no idea what Mr. Pettigrew did for a living and had never given it a second's thought before. Remus, on the other hand, knew that Peter's father was a custodial worker at the Ministry of Magic and that Peter himself was not very keen on divulging that information freely. In an attempt to head off further discussion of the subject, Remus asked, "So how did you convince her to let you come back, Peter?"
Peter shook his head, wild-eyed. "I didn't, my dad did. Took him all day and night yesterday, but finally she agreed. He brought me back this morning, thank Merlin. I'd have gone mad if I had to stay in that house any longer. She's a complete nutter, I tell you."
"Well we're glad you're back," offered Remus kindly.
Peter didn't seem to even hear him, so intent was he in his own misery. "For Christmas, you know what she gave me? This little pillow that she stitched that says, 'Britain's Best Big Brother.'" He paused before repeating, as if for emphasis, "A pillow."
Both Sirius and James sniggered, but James was a bit more adept at hiding it. "All right, come on then," he said, leaning over the table toward Peter. He lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's get out of here and start planning. We're going to prank the Slytherins, and we need your help."
It was if a cloud shifted to allow the sun to once again shine on Peter's face. "Really? Me?"
"Of course," said James, leaning back again and grinning at them all with easy confidence.
From the back of his mind, Remus could hear his father's voice from the dinner table. "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?"
He swallowed and summoned his nerve before saying, "Er, I thought we were going to lay off the pranks for a while. You know, after the stuff last term and your…erm…getting caught by Dumbledore and all?"
To this, of course, Sirius only laughed and said, "We're not going back to war, Remus, we're only going to be messing with the Slytherins."
"Yeah," added James, offering the plate of eggs to the newly rejuvenated Peter. "This school could use a bit of cheering up, and a laugh at the Slytherins' expense seems the best way to do it."
For Gin Leigh and the remaining Gryffindor third years, breakfast that morning had been a quiet affair. The atmosphere in the Great Hall crackled with cautious hesitance. No one really seemed to know what to say about the bodies found in the Ministry or if it would be callous to talk about normal, trivial things. Adin barely even glanced at her copy of Your Daily Diviner, and did not insist on reading the horoscopes of everyone around her as she did most mornings. Goomer and Raeanne had their heads bent together, whispering fervently to one another. Mary, ever the studious pupil, worked on an extra credit paper for Professor Flitwick. Lily, in particular, seemed glum. She had not heard about the events at the Ministry until the previous morning, when Adin had apprised her of all the details after they reunited on the train. When everyone else was otherwise occupied with their breakfasts, she muttered to Gin that she desperately wanted to save enough money to buy herself an owl, so as to not feel so isolated while at home in Cokeworth. Gin sympathized but remained, as usual, quiet.
It had been difficult, that morning, to shut it all out, but Gin did her best. The whispers from wary students, the uneasy glances from the professors at the staff table, the feeling that there was something very heavy and dark looming not only over the Great Hall but also over the wizarding world as a whole… She was sure she was not the only one who felt it. She did not enjoy the unsettled feeling in her chest, nor the constant reverberations of her mother's words from the week before in her head, telling her that boys like Sirius Black were dangerous, that she must tell him she could not sneak off with him again.
She spent breakfast, then, much as she had spent the train ride the day before, attempting to rid her mind of the jumble of emotions that now plagued her. She also attempted to keep her eyes from drifting down the Gryffindor table, and succeeded with the exception of one time, when she looked up to see Sirius Black hit a Hufflepuff second year with a piece of bacon. Her eyes lingered on the grin Sirius shot the girl, on the way the girls' friends erupted into a fit of blushing giggles a moment later.
And so, Gin committed her focus back on her cereal for the remainder of breakfast.
It was a relief, then, to settle into her desk for the first lesson of term, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Romielle sat at the front of the classroom, her eyes glued to a copy of the Prophet. When the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw second years had all assembled in their usual spots, she folded up her paper and smiled at them all, but her smile was more strained than normal, and it was difficult not to notice the dark circles that shadowed her eyes.
"Welcome back," she said, looking around at them all. "I hope everyone had a nice holiday. Today we will be quickly reviewing Shield Charms as used to protect others, to ensure that you have not forgotten in the weeks since we last met, and then we will be moving on to discussing standard countercurses. If everyone could find a partner to –"
"Professor?" interrupted Phillip Maloney from the front row, his hand rising in the air as if an afterthought. "I've got a question."
Professor Romielle gave him a small, patient smile. "Yes, Mr. Maloney?"
"The Prophet this morning…I mean to say, you work for the Ministry, so you might be able to tell us…but the paper mentioned that those people were murdered by unknown wizards. But only last week they were saying it was some Dark Lord wizard…"
"Yes," Romielle said, ignoring the muttering that filtered through the classroom. The smile was no longer on her face. "Lord Voldemort, is what they are calling him."
"Right," said Phillip, clearly aware that the eyes of the entire class were now on him. "So was it him? Or was it some unknown wizard? And why can't the Prophet get its story straight?"
The classroom became eerily silent as everyone waited for the professor's response. She stared hard at Phillip before sweeping her gaze over the rest of her rapt pupils, clearly considering how best to respond.
"All evidence suggests that the murders were committed by followers of Lord Voldemort, if not by Voldemort himself," she said at length. "Though it has been difficult for the Ministry to confirm, as we have been unable, on the whole, to locate Voldemort's whereabouts."
"So this Voldemort fellow," said a Ravenclaw called Lionel Marigold loudly from next to Phillip, "he might not have even done anything wrong?"
"Other than telling his mates to murder five innocent people, you mean, Marigold?" snapped James Potter from the back row.
Lionel turned around to look at James, coloring a bit and straightening his back before saying, "That's not what she said. She said it could just be followers of his, which means it could just be some nutter who thinks he's acting on someone's orders…"
"It could be," said Professor Romielle, nodding thoughtfully. "But all indications point to the fact that the wizard called Lord Voldemort is espousing the notion to his followers that pureblooded wizards are inherently more magical than Muggle-born wizards, and that the Muggle world as a whole should fall under the rule of the magical world."
"Okay," replied Lionel, evidently attempting to have a philosophical discussion with the professor on the matter, "but there's nothing innately wrong with that belief…"
"There's something innately wrong with your head, Marigold," James said loudly, to general laughter. Several students turned sideways in their seats to get a better view of James, watching the proceedings with entertained apprehension.
"You can't police what people think, Potter," said Lionel, fully turning around in his chair now to face James.
"I don't remember saying that you could, Marigold. Maybe you need to get your ears checked along with your head…"
Lionel seemed to be swelling under the pressure of debating with the notorious James Potter, but he did not back down. "There's nothing wrong with thinking a certain way! Thinking things doesn't make you a murderer."
"Yes," said James, and Gin finally glanced around to see his casual posture betrayed only by the flash of anger in his eyes, "and there's nothing wrong with my thinking that you're a beetle-brained pillock, either –"
Professor Romielle held up an assuaging palm. "Now let's not start name-calling…"
Unfortunately for her, where James Potter led, Sirius Black was soon to follow, and the latter now took the opportunity to jump into the conversation. "Yes, James," he said loudly, smirking at Lionel Marigold's beet-red face, "you've just insulted the entire beetle species, you know…"
A peal of laughter rang out from the class and Romielle attempted to talk over it. "No need for personal attacks, gentlemen…"
"Just proving old Lionel's point, Professor," said Sirius, blinking at her with charming innocence, "that you can't police people's opinions on things."
"That's correct," nodded Romielle, "but those opinions can still get you into a helping of trouble if they are acted on improperly."
"Right, Professor," agreed James, not taking his eyes off of Lionel Marigold's face. "So I can't, for instance, get detention for thinking that Lionel here is a puffed-up tosser…"
"Mr. Potter!" scolded the professor amidst sniggers and gasps from the rest of the class.
"…but I could get a detention," Sirius continued in James's stead, "for, say, sneaking into Ravenclaw Tower while Lionel's sleeping and transfiguring his hair into knarl quills?"
Lionel Marigold blanched, clearly realizing who, exactly, he had just made enemies of, and turned back around in his chair to face the blackboard. James glared at the back of his head, Sirius smirked, and, as amused whispers flittered across the classroom, Professor Romielle held up both of her hands to silence the students.
"You could and you would, Mr. Black," she said, sighing as she waited for silence to fall once again. "Now, if there are any additional questions about recent events, I'd like to welcome you all to speak with me privately in my office. It is perfectly normal for you to be curious about what is going on in our world. For now, however, I'd like for us to get back to the lesson. So if you could all divide up into your usual practice pairs, we will move forward."
The lesson proceeded fairly normally from there, though Professor Romielle promptly refused to allow James to partner with Lionel Marigold, who had turned a sickly green color when James elbowed his way through the crowd and insisted on "practicing" with him. Nevertheless, and despite being forced to pair with Sirius as normal, an uncommon number of both Sirius and James's spells went off-course in the time allotted for practice, including one that most unfortunately caused Lionel Marigold's earlobes to droop down past his collarbone.
"Sorry, Professor," James said innocently once Romielle had put the earlobes right again. "Just checking to see that Maloney's Shield Charms are up to snuff, you know."
It was more difficult than usual, then, for Gin to concentrate on her own spellwork and to keep her eyes from slipping over to where Sirius was working with aggravating ease. Toward the end of the lesson, when Professor Romielle had just finished explaining to them all the way that wand movement differed when casting a countercurse versus a counterjinx, Gin made the mistake of allowing her eyes to wander to the back row, and Sirius was looking right at her. She averted her gaze quickly and took a deep breath to calm the guilt-leaden wriggle in her stomach, her mother's instructions once again pumping through her brain. Stay away from pureblood boys. Stop sneaking off with Sirius Black.
And thus, it was with great consternation that as she walked toward Transfiguration later that morning, Gin discovered the note that had been sneaked into her robe pocket without her knowledge. The feel of the crinkled slip of parchment against her fingertip was enough for her to know who it was from and what it was, but she peered around at the crowded corridor and pulled it out anyway. She stole one quick glance at it – Tomorrow night, dungeon three. 8:00. – before she crumpled it into a tight ball and shoved it in her bag, her heart hammering, the noise of the corridor suddenly very loud in her ears. Conflicted, Gin decided to do what she did best, and put the entire thing out of her mind, focusing intently on her lessons and spending that evening finishing the novel she had received for Christmas.
The following morning, however, she could no longer ignore the dilemma that she faced: listen to her mother or meet Sirius Black that evening in dungeon three? It's not as if her mother would know if she ignored her advice, but Gin had never kept anything from her mother, and the idea of doing so was foreign and unsettling. She told her mother everything. She always had. But she had never before had a reason to keep anything from her.
Her troubled thoughts were interrupted by the morning post and Adin's return to announcing the horoscopes in Your Daily Diviner to everyone within earshot. Gin tried to inconspicuously busy herself with her cereal and blend into the bench, but failed miserably and resigned herself when Adin turned toward her; it was, after all, an occupational hazard of ever sitting next to Adin Balini at breakfast.
"All right, Gin, your turn," said Adin, running a finger over her parchment in search of the right section. "Let me see…Virgo…here we are. 'A flash of inspiration will reveal itself to you today as you struggle –'"
But Adin was cut off by the sudden arrival of Emily Cagle, a blonde Ravenclaw in their year, who announced her presence behind them by saying, "Have you heard? Tell me you've heard!"
"Heard what?" Adin said, swiveling around on the bench to eagerly look at the newcomer. Across the table from them, Lily looked up from her toast with raised eyebrows. Gin went back to her cereal, grateful to have been granted a reprieve from the Diviner's perspective on her day.
"About Lionel," Emily said, in an unnecessary stage whisper loud enough to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the Great Hall at breakfast. "He woke up this morning and all his hair had been transfigured into knarl quills!"
"You're joking!"
"I'm not. He hasn't shown up here yet. I think he's still getting himself sorted by Madam Pomfrey."
"Serves him right," said Lily easily, a wry smile on her lips. "All that rubbish he was saying yesterday about people's right to think whatever they want…"
"Lionel's a prat," Emily said, with a wave of a hand. "He does that in all our lessons. He'd argue with a toothbrush about the food in his teeth and call it a philosophical discussion."
Adin strained her neck to look down toward the end of the Gryffindor table. "Do you think it was James and Sirius that did it, then?"
Emily nodded, her cheeks dotted with pink. "Cassandra Nguyen said that she saw Professor Romielle giving Sirius detention before breakfast, and he wasn't arguing or anything."
"Well he did tell the entire class what his plan was yesterday," Lily pointed out. "Not exactly stealthy."
"But how would he and James get into Ravenclaw Tower?" asked Emily, before adding with a giggle, "Not that I'm complaining."
"We stopped wondering how they do half the stuff they do ages ago," said Lily. "Pass the marmalade, Adin?" Adin didn't seem to hear her, so Gin reached to slide the marmalade across the table to Lily.
"They're just brilliant, aren't they?" said Emily with a dreamy sigh, her eyes on the end of the table.
"Oh, perfectly clever," muttered Lily with an eye-roll of her own. "Announcing to a professor exactly how you plan to break the rules before you do it. Positively genius."
"They don't care if they get in trouble, Lily, you know that," Adin said. "They never have."
"Look, have you heard…you know…" started Emily, who appeared to have not been paying attention while gazing at the boys with admiration, "whether either of them has asked anyone to go with them on the next Hogsmeade trip?"
A dull thrumming seemed to take up residence in Gin's ears.
"James or Sirius?" Adin clarified before shaking her head. "Not that I've heard of."
"Well I think Elliott Stebbins might be asking me," said Emily, biting her bottom lip as if considering something, "but no way I'd go with him if there's a chance I could go with Sirius Black!"
Adin giggled and Gin, suddenly less interested in her cereal, excused herself to begin making her way toward the dungeons for Potions. It wasn't as if she had not been privy to the gossip about Sirius before, she thought as passed Nearly Headless Nick in the entrance hall. Indeed, Sirius Black and James Potter were consistently the top subjects of giggles and whispers among the third-year girls (though Evan Rosier and Darlene Burke had certainly become a hot topic in recent weeks), so why would Gin all of a sudden be affected by Emily and Adin's gossip? Why would the thought of Sirius asking Emily to Hogsmeade make the blood rush to Gin's ears and her heart jump to her throat? It's not as if she was jealous. It's not as if she fancied Sirius, really. She had been very clear with herself on that fact.
She had just finished reassuring herself of her stubborn indifference toward Sirius Black when she turned down the staircase toward the dungeons and walked past dungeon three, an unused classroom that she had never been in before. Her eyes were drawn to the open doorway, to the torches that flickered within it along the stone walls, to the dusty tables that lined the perimeter. Tonight. Dungeon three. 8:00. And then she knew, with the kind of dull realization that told her that perhaps she had known all along, that she could not meet Sirius in the dungeon that night. Because she wanted to. Because despite what she had been telling herself, she liked kissing him for reasons other than the thrill and the sense of belonging. She liked kissing Sirius because she liked Sirius. And that just would not do.
She would not, she could not, sneak off with him anymore.
It was easy, then, once the decision had been made, to stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. She would not be going against her mother's wishes, and the sense of relief was profound. It had been unsettling to discover that she was no different than Adin or Emily or any of the other girls who swooned after boys, and Gin was adamant with herself that as long as she kept her head down and her focus on other things, she would be able to squash that bit of stomach-squirming in a day or two, max. Sirius was a clever bloke, and when she didn't show up that evening in the dungeon, he would take the hint, she was sure of it. Thus, she ate a quick dinner by herself that evening before hurrying off to her favorite table in the library, hidden in a secluded corner between shelves containing books on Ancient Magical Theory. Needless to say, she was rarely distracted while at this table.
Which was why she nearly fell out of her chair with surprise when none other than Sirius Black slid into the empty chair next to her at exactly 7:23PM that night.
"Do you know how long it took me to find you?" He glanced at his watch. "Almost an hour. An hour. Could you have possibly found a more hidden table in the entire castle to read at?"
"What – what are you doing here?"
"Who, me? Wanted to brush up on –" He tilted his head to read the nearest book title from the shelf next to him. "– Means of Transmogrification in Mesopotamian Magic." He grinned at her. She said nothing. "I was looking for you," he said, faltering a bit.
"Oh."
"I can't, er…" He shifted in his chair, looked up at the shelves, the ceiling, anywhere but at her. "I can't meet you at eight."
"Oh," she said again. "All right."
"No, I mean," he said, glancing at her quickly and then looking away again, "I've detention at 7:30. I didn't want you thinking that I had just…decided not to show."
Guilt bubbled in her stomach. That was exactly what she had planned to do to him. "Okay." She paused, and then in an effort to steer the topic elsewhere, said, "Detention for the Lionel Marigold thing?"
"Ah," he said, looking at her once again with a mischievous grin, "you heard about the unfounded accusations that have been leveled against me?"
"Unfounded accusations?" she repeated with the raise of an eyebrow.
"Professor Romielle's under the impression that I'm the one who snuck into Ravenclaw Tower last night and transfigured Marigold's hair, can you imagine?"
"I only wonder how she ever sussed it out, what with you threatening to do that very thing in class yesterday," Gin pointed out.
Sirius shook his head. "But see, I threatened to transfigure his hair into knarl quills, and the unfortunate sod awoke this morning with a head full of simple porcupine quills, so, really, there's no evidence against me at all."
Gin could not help but laugh. "And you were given detention despite the distinction?"
He sighed deeply. "I've said it before, but Hogwarts is not a just place."
"Well you'd better get going," she said, looking at her own watch. "It's 7:26."
He waved a dismissive hand, his elbows on the table as he leaned toward her, his eyes dancing. "Buckets of time. I'll have you know that I can get from the library to Romielle's office in exactly forty-three seconds."
Shifting under his heavy gaze, she turned back to her book and muttered, "Why doesn't it surprise me that you know – mmphh!" His lips pressed against hers, effectively silencing and surprising her at once. It took a moment to realize what was happening, but as soon as she did, she sprang away from him. "What are you doing?"
The look of happy innocence on his face was one she was all-too familiar with. "What? It's not like anyone's going to see."
"Look," she said, calming her trembling fingers, "I…I don't think we should do that anymore."
If he was upset, his face didn't betray it. "Do what? Snog?"
"Right. I don't want to snog you anymore."
"Well why not?"
Telling him the truth was not an option. In fact, Gin could only think of one thing less appealing than admitting to Sirius Black that she had realized she fancied him, and that was telling him that her mum had told her to stay away from him based solely on his family's reputation.
"I just…don't want to," she said, steeling herself and meeting his gaze.
"Oh."
"It's not that I don't…" She trailed off, swallowed, and then started again. "I mean, it just doesn't…feel right."
"I disagree," he said, giving her a little smirk.
There was an uncomfortable bit of silence before she said, "You should get to your detention. It's 7:28."
He shrugged, said, "Guess I can take the long route," and stood up. It looked like he was going to say something else to her, but he seemed to decide against it and turned out of sight along the nearest aisle of books. Gin sighed, disappointed and relieved and suddenly very conscious of the lead weight in her stomach. She had only just turned back to her book when Sirius appeared again in front of the table, looking anxious.
"What if," he started, shoving his hands in his pocket and seeming more hesitant than she had ever seen him, "I mean…what if…would you, you know, want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"
Gin would not have been more shocked if he had told her he was leaving Hogwarts to join the circus. "What? No!" she replied before she even considered it.
"Oh." He frowned, and then snorted. "Is it such a bad idea?"
She hadn't intended for any of this to happen. "Sorry," she said, now allowing guilt to grip her alongside awkwardness and confusion.
He shrugged. "I thought maybe it'd make it…feel more right."
"No. I'm just…not interested in…that."
"In Hogsmeade?"
"In going to Hogsmeade with anybody." In being the subject of everyone's gossip. In being like one of those other girls.
"All right," he said, shrugging again. "Well…see you later."
"Yeah." She watched as he turned to leave for a second time and then, before she could stop herself, said, "Sirius?"
"Yeah?"
"You could go with Emily Cagle to Hogsmeade."
He blinked at her. "What?"
"Emily Cagle. You could ask her to go with you."
For a moment, his expression was frozen in something between surprise and confusion, but then a sudden bark of a laugh burst forth and Gin was the one to watch in shock. "You are so bloody weird," he said, chuckling at her with amazement.
And with that, he turned for the third time and disappeared into the stacks. Gin simply stared after him for a moment, half-expecting him to come back again. There was no doubt that he was right about her, she mused, because the only thing she felt after that entire conversation was a sense of glorious relief.
Bloody weird, indeed.
January's full moon fell on the Monday after the students returned to Hogwarts, so Remus spent much of Sunday in the boys' dormitory, trying to find some comfort for his weary and aching bones. His friends brought him some lunch from the kitchens, after which he felt strong enough to trek down to the fourth-floor secret passage with them, where they proceeded to spend the next hour connecting – or, in Sirius's case, trying to connect. Remus was quietly impressed with the newfound determination Sirius was exhibiting in his connection attempts; he had never witnessed Sirius concentrate so fully on any one thing for so long before, and by mid-afternoon, Sirius was claiming that he, too, was starting to feel something deep in his stomach. James insisted they celebrate by working more on their plan for the Slytherins, at which point Remus excused himself back to the dormitory to take a nap. He had realized in recent days that feigning deafness when it came to his friends' troublemaking was a fairly adequate way to prevent them from trying to involve him in their schemes. Despite this, he suffered pangs of regret every time he would witness the three of them with their heads bent together, clearly up to no-good. The same fear that had plagued him for over two years lingered, hissing in his ear that they would leave him behind if he did not partake.
But the sound of the approaching moon was louder than his constant angst about his friends, and for the days surrounding the full moon, he could not be bothered to worry about much else.
On Sunday night, Remus's churning stomach caused him to forego dinner, and he spent the evening in his bed, attempting to read ahead in his Transfiguration textbook, but having very little actual success. He had just decided to give up and turn in for the night when the dormitory door opened and Peter walked in.
"Hi Peter," Remus said, giving the other boy a weak smile. Even his face muscles ached.
Peter looked glumly around at him and gave what was perhaps an even weaker smile. "'Lo Remus."
"Where are James and Sirius?"
"James is talking Quidditch with Susanna O'Shea," Peter mumbled, looking miserable, "and Sirius is chatting with the Fat Lady."
"Chatting with the –?"
"For the plan."
"Ah," said Remus, fighting between the desire to ask more about their plan and the common sense that told him to stay out of it.
"She's pretty good-looking, isn't she?"
"The Fat Lady?"
"No, Susanna O'Shea."
"I'd never…" Remus fidgeted, looking closely at his friend. Peter was acting very oddly. "I'd never noticed before." Peter shrugged and moved to lean in against the post at the bottom of Remus's bed. "Is something wrong?"
"What?" Peter asked, glancing up distractedly from a piece of parchment that Remus just noticed was gripped between his fingers. "Oh…no. I mean, I just got an owl from my mum."
Remus nodded but didn't press him further. Since his tardy return to Hogwarts, Peter had been rather more dour and quieter than usual, perking up only when James and Sirius would include him in their scheming. Now, he crumpled the letter in his hand and shoved it into his pocket.
"She wants me to write to her every week, she said," he told Remus. "She's worried about me."
"Oh." Remus could not quite think of an adequate response to this, particularly because he did not understand why Peter was acting as though this were a source of great misery. "Well, that's a bit…much…I imagine."
Peter did not seem to even hear him. "And she sent me a list of girls' names they like and want my opinion. You know, for the baby."
"That's nice that they're including you," Remus offered.
"No it's not," grumbled Peter. "What do I care if they name the thing Beatrice or Betty or Penelope or Susan? I don't care at all!"
There was something in his voice, a strangled tenseness, as though he was trying not to wilt, and Remus sat up straighter in his bed, suddenly concerned for his friend.
"Peter?" he said, quiet and kind, "why don't you want your mum to have a baby?"
"Because why does she need to, anyway? They've already got me! Aren't I enough?"
Remus fought the instinct to cringe. The thought that he himself was not good enough for his parents had consumed him for years and years, crescendoing every month after the full moon, when his father would have to tend to his terrible wounds, playing nursemaid to his beast of a son, while his mother would be forced to watch helplessly from the sidelines, spoon-feeding him meals and washing him like an invalid.
"Of course you are," said Remus, choking back his own insecurities. "Your parents love you, Peter. Having another baby isn't going to change that."
Peter now climbed up to sit on the foot of the bed, and Remus shifted his feet to allow him more room. "But it's going to be born in June! My birthday's in June!"
"Oh," said Remus, taken aback. "Well that shouldn't be too bad. You're here at Hogwarts for your birthday, anyway. And I'm sure your mum will still send you a package like she does every year."
"I guess…" said Peter, looking morose.
"We can make sure your birthday here is real nice, Peter."
"It's not just that. It's…I mean, our house isn't very big," he muttered, turning pink. "And my mum said they'll have to put the baby in my room when I'm away at school."
"That's…that's kind of awful," Remus conceded.
"They said they're going to try to put an extension on the house for the baby next year, but the magic's too tricky for them to do themselves, so they'll have to hire somebody and – well – it costs a lot."
Remus nodded, sympathetic and at a loss for what to say. He sighed, trying to put himself in Peter's shoes. How would he react if his parents were having a new baby, if his mother had suddenly become fiercely overprotective, if his birthday would be overshadowed, if his room at home was going to be transformed into a pseudo-nursery? He thought of his parents, of the sacrifices they had made for him, of the constant plague of doubt that he would ever be enough for them, that he would ever make them proud. He thought of his father that night before Christmas, in obvious anguish as he told Remus that he would not be able to ever be a normal boy, that he would not be able to ever be with a girl. He thought of watching his parents fawn over a new baby, a healthy baby, a fully human baby, of the way it would puncture a hole right through his stomach. But Peter was different. Peter was happy and whole and normal and worth being proud of.
"Peter," Remus said at length, "I think it's okay to be sad about it, but I think maybe you should be excited, too."
"That's what my dad said," Peter mumbled, rolling his eyes. "That this is so exciting."
"But you get to be a big brother," Remus went on. "Just think of that."
"Big deal."
"Being a big brother, though, that's kind of neat, isn't it? I mean, there's going to be a little kid about who looks up to you and asks for your help and who you can teach things to."
Peter looked up from his fingers now, seemingly pondering this perspective. "So?"
"So think about how much you'll be able to tell him about Hogwarts! Think about telling him where all the secret passageways are that we've found, and how to get to the kitchens, and how to sneak out to Hogsmeade."
"That's true…"
"And I don't have that, and James doesn't have that, and…well, Sirius's situation's a little different, isn't it? So all that we've found and discovered in the last few years, that'll all get passed down to your brother or sister. And you're going to be the coolest brother in the world."
Peter bit his lip, hesitantly hopeful. "You really think he'll think I'm cool?"
Remus, though, did not have a chance to respond before the door to the dormitory banged open and Sirius strode in, followed by James.
"Admit it," Sirius was saying. "I am a bloody genius."
"I will admit no such thing," said James, crossing to his bed and tossing his bag on top of it.
"You will, though, because I got the information we needed out of her –"
"And that takes a genius, does it?"
"No but it takes someone who at least has an idea of how to talk to a girl, mate…"
"I talk to plenty of girls! I was just down there talking to O'Shea before you interrupted us and dragged me up here."
Sirius ignored James and now hurried toward Remus and Peter, raising his arms in the air as if in triumph. "I am a bloody genius," he repeated to them.
"So we've heard," said Remus, amused.
"You got it then?" asked Peter.
"Of course I got it," scoffed Sirius, collapsing backward onto his bed and turning his head to grin at them. "Hence the bloody genius thing. Oi!" he yelled, as James shucked off one of his shoes and hurled it at Sirius's stomach.
"Will you give it a rest and get to the point then, Genius?"
"Yeah," said Peter, "what did she say? The Fat Lady?"
Sirius rolled up onto his side and chucked the shoe back at James. "Well, firstly, her name isn't actually 'The Fat Lady.' Color me shocked. Her name was Winifred…er…something-or-other. And she had a pretty saucy love life back in the day, let me say. Something about leaving the Earl of Something-Shire and running off with his brother, only to then fall for the Supreme Mugwump and to run off with him, but that didn't last because his sister was this mad jealous sorceress who tracked them down and –"
"You sound like one of those gossip columns in a girls' magazine," interrupted James. "What'd she say about the passwords?"
"We were right," Sirius said. "The passwords are changed by the Head Boy and Girl and handed down to the prefects at their meetings. The magic's tricky, but if the Heads can do it, I'm sure we can work it out."
"All right," said James, sitting on top of his trunk and looking pensive. "Now we've got to find out when the next prefect meeting is –"
"It's tomorrow night," Sirius cut in casually.
"How do you know that?"
"I asked Newlyn Gallit."
"When?"
"Just now. While you were trying to get O'Shea to laugh at your joke about the centaur and the missing Bludgers."
"And Gallit wasn't suspicious?"
Sirius shrugged. "Probably."
"All right," said James, eyes alight. "Tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night," grinned Sirius.
"Tomorrow night," echoed Peter, whose smile was more genuine than Remus had witnessed in days.
They all turned toward Remus, who sunk lower against his pillows, his face reddening and his throat constricting tightly. "Well," he said, trying to calm his clinched muscles, "it's not as if we can all fit under the Invisibility Cloak anymore anyway."
James looked stricken. They had forgotten, even briefly, of what Remus would be facing the following evening. "Oh, Remus, mate, we can wait for another time…"
"It's all right…"
"No," said Sirius, sitting up fully. "We'll wait. I'm sure there'll be another prefect meeting in a few weeks –"
"Really, it's okay…"
"It's not like there's any reason we have to do it soon," James continued, ignoring Remus's protestations. "It's not like anyone's expecting it."
"Guys!" They all started at the loudness of Remus's voice. "Listen to me. Sneak into the prefect meeting tomorrow and get the information you need so you can go ahead with the plan. I promise that I don't need to be there, okay?"
"Are you sure?" asked Sirius, looking hesitant.
There was something like giddy relief surging through Remus, mingling with a bit of ever-present longing. The full moon, for once, would prevent him for doing something that he didn't want to do. Yet, as always, doubt plagued him. Did they care that he would not be there with them?
"Yes," he said, sounding more confident than he felt. "It's going to be tight enough fitting the three of you under the cloak. It wouldn't even work if we all wanted to go."
"All right," conceded Sirius dubiously. He frowned at Remus. "You don't look so good, mate."
"Just t-tired," yawned Remus. Every particle of his body ached with fatigue. He sunk down farther so he was lying flat in his bed.
"You should skip lessons tomorrow," suggested James, concerned.
"I can't."
"Sure you can, if you're feeling that rubbishy."
"No, I can't. I'll already miss Tuesday's and Wednesday's lessons, I can't miss tomorrow's too."
"We'll take notes for you," offered Peter, finally climbing off of the end of the bed.
Remus smiled gratefully. "Thanks Peter, but I'll be all right tomorrow. Just need to sleep."
"Night, Remus," said James.
"G'night, mate," said Sirius.
Peter was moving to close Remus's hangings around his four-poster. "See you tomorrow," he told him in a soft voice. The grateful smile on his round face was the last thing Remus remembered seeing before his exhaustion swallowed him whole.
When Remus returned to classes on Thursday morning with sore muscles and dark circles under his eyes, he was relieved to discover that no one had seemed to even notice his absence that month. Indeed, no one could seem to talk of anything other than the events that had transpired that morning, when the entirety of Slytherin house had found itself trapped inside the Slytherin common room by a mysterious portrait of Godric Gryffindor, which had appeared at some point in the night, thoroughly blocking the exit and requiring every Slytherin that wanted through it to provide a specific password.
"I heard they all had to say 'Muggle-borns are smarter than me,'" Remus overheard Ev Linney telling a group of Hufflepuff girls in Herbology that morning.
"Oh? I heard it was 'Muggle-borns are more magical than me,'" said Karina Cotswold.
"No, you've both got it right," said Nancy Robards. "Each Slytherin had to give a different password before they were allowed out of the common room."
"No way," said Karina. "That magic wouldn't even exist."
"And Bertha swears she overheard Adrian Bole telling Slughorn that they all had to say 'Muggle-borns are smarter than me' to get out," Ev said knowingly.
Conversations such as these were easy to stumble upon over the next several days, though the rumors became more and more outlandish as time went on. The following week, Remus could not help but hear as Emily Cagle told Adin Balini that the Slytherins were all still being forced to bow down to the portrait of Gryffindor and praise him as a God. This, of course, was not true – Remus had it on good authority that the portrait had been removed the afternoon of the prank – but truth never seemed to factor much into the workings of the Hogwarts rumor mill.
The effect of the plan that James and Sirius had intended at the beginning of term seemed to work, though, and as February arrived, Hogwarts quickly started returning to normal. There was more laughter and fewer worried whispers in the corridors, the students gradually moved onto thinking about things other than Voldemort and the Fallen Five, and the Slytherins lost some of their swagger, having fallen back to earth with quite the thud. Halfway through February brought another Hogsmeade visit, and the four Gryffindor boys spent most of the day lounging in a corner booth of the Three Broomsticks, drinking far too much butterbeer and quipping incessantly about their fellow patrons.
On a Saturday afternoon in late February, Remus found himself once again spread out on the floor of the fourth-floor secret passageway, nestled against his preferred squishy cushions. He had spent an hour in Professor Romielle's office that morning discussing his most recent essay on alternatives to Shield Charms, and as she often did, she had lent him a book to read on non-combative uses of defensive magic. He should have been working diligently on a particularly nasty History of Magic essay ('Describe in detail the effects of the North American witch hunts on European magical law'), but the book was far too engaging for him to put down, and he found himself absorbed by the theories presented in its first few pages.
The boys had not been in there very long, but James and Peter were already floating eerily off the floor, and Sirius sat across from them, his legs crossed, eyes closed, and a frustrated crease across his brow. As Sirius's frustration with his lack of progress intensified, so did too his determination to prove that he could connect just as well as Peter or James. He had been going off on his own a lot more than usual, and had gone through sullen, quiet periods that were very un-Sirius-like. Remus was starting to worry for his friend.
They had only been in there about fifteen minutes and Remus had only just finished the third chapter when a frustrated noise that sounded somewhere between a growl and a groan startled him so much he nearly dropped the book and lost his page. He looked up in time to see Sirius spring to his feet, aggravation and impatience spitting off of him like sparks.
"I can't do it, I can't do it, I can't sodding well do it," he muttered, pulling at his hair in vexation. Remus sat his book aside and stood up too, though Sirius didn't even seem to notice, as he was pulling his fist back, ready to strike out against the wall.
"Sirius, no!" shouted Remus, hurrying forward to stop him, but he needn't have worried. Sirius seemed to come to his senses when his fist was halfway toward the wall, and he uncurled his fingers to strike the stone with an open palm, drooping against his own anger. He leaned his forehead against the stone as if to soothe it, and when he spoke, Remus assumed he was speaking to him, as both James and Peter were still floating obliviously across the passageway from them.
"I can feel it," he said, his voice low and wavering. "I almost get there, and I can feel it in my stomach, and James says you have to lean into the feeling, but I pull away every bloody time."
"You'll get it," Remus told him, unsure of what else to say. "You're close, you said it yourself. James and Peter took a while to connect after they got close too."
Sirius turned now and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, his face white and pained. Remus moved to sit down next to him. "I've never been unable to do something before," Sirius said at length.
"Well that's not true."
"What do you mean, that's not true?"
"There's plenty of things you wouldn't be able to do if you tried." Sirius gave him an overly hurt look and Remus fought not to laugh at the expression. "I mean, if I asked you to produce Fiendfyre right now, you wouldn't be able to. Or if I told you to transfigure Peter into a garden gnome, you might get as far as vanishing his hair and lengthening his fingers, but you wouldn't be able to do much more than that."
"Is this supposed to be making me feel better?"
"No," said Remus, "it's supposed to make you see that there's plenty of magic that's too advanced for you right this moment, but I've no doubt that if you really wanted to turn Peter into a garden gnome, you'd be able to. It just might take more time than you prefer."
Sirius snorted and tapped the back of his head against the wall a few times in apparent frustration. "Right now I'd prefer turning you into a garden gnome, if I have the choice," he muttered, but his tone was more amused than bitter. He paused before saying, "I'm going to do this, you know."
"I know."
"And once I connect, we'll finally be able to move onto the spells."
"I know."
"And I'll get the spells down before James or Peter, just you watch."
"I've no doubt," said Remus honestly. He turned his head to find that Sirius was peering at a faint scar that ran across his jaw – evidence of the previous month's full moon – but as soon as Sirius was caught looking, he turned away and fixed his gaze on Peter's floating form.
"I told you I would do this for you," Sirius all-but whispered. "And I will. I'm going to do this, Remus, and then we'll be able to stay with you on full moons and we'll be able to have adventures and we'll be able to keep you from hurting yourself so much."
"I know," said Remus again, his heart in his throat. There was a long, somewhat awkward silence, where they both just stared straight ahead at Peter and James, who seemed now to be taunting them. "Sirius? What if you tried connecting somewhere else, instead of in this passageway?"
Sirius turned back toward him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, maybe it'd be easier for you to clear your mind if you weren't sitting right next to two people who are able to do this with ease."
"You think?" Sirius asked, pondering this.
Remus shrugged. "It can't hurt to try, can it?"
As though he had been shocked, Sirius sprang to his feet, grinning down at his friend. "Good idea," he said, reaching over to grab his bag off of a stack of pillows and swinging it onto his shoulder. "I'm off."
And with that, he disappeared down the passageway back toward the fourth-floor corridor, leaving Remus quite alone with his two unconscious friends, a defensive theory book, and a barely started History of Magic essay that suddenly felt very far away.
"Well, he's not upstairs," James announced, hopping the last several steps of the boys' staircase and rejoining Peter and Remus at their table in the common room later that afternoon.
"Where do you think he went?" asked Peter.
"Maybe he's off snogging Gin in a broom cupboard," James suggested, rolling his eyes at the thought. Remus though, shook his head and nodded toward the corner of the room, where Gin sat studying with Goomer and Raeanne. "Oh. Well maybe he's down in the kitchens with the elves. Wouldn't be the first time."
Peter bit at the corner of his thumbnail. "Reckon we should go and check?"
"Maybe we should just let him alone for a bit," said Remus. "He seemed like maybe he wanted to be alone."
"What did he say to you, again?" James asked, frowning.
Remus faltered, not particularly wanting to recap the short conversation he and Sirius had shared. "Er… Well, he was getting frustrated, you know how he gets. And he thought maybe trying somewhere else in the castle might help him clear his head."
"That's odd," said James, reaching into his bag and taking out a deck of cards, which he began shuffling as though without thinking. "We were talking about playing Arcana this afternoon."
"Give him time," Remus said. He pulled his History of Magic essay onto the table and unscrewed the cap to his ink. "He'll turn up soon, I'm sure."
But Sirius didn't appear in the common room for the rest of the afternoon. Remus used the time to finish his essay and start on the latest Astronomy assignment, which Peter copied unabashedly. At some point, James gave up waiting for Sirius to show and started up a game of Arcana with a group of fourth-year boys that included Davey Gudgeon and Andrew Adamsly, a Gryffindor Beater who turned out to either be extremely lucky or extremely good at Arcana.
"Bloody well took me for about ten Galleons," James muttered that evening, as he, Remus, and Peter went up to the dormitory to drop off their things before going to find some dinner.
"He got the Miss almost every round!" said Peter, who had watched a few rounds of the card game avidly.
James scoffed and tossed his bag onto the floor by his bed. "Lucky git. If he had half as much luck on the Quidditch pitch as he does playing cards, maybe he wouldn't have let those Bludgers stop me from scoring three separate times in the last match." He paused and tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Remus to unpack his bag. "Come on, Remus! Those books don't have to be perfectly stacked before we eat, you know."
Sighing, Remus looked longingly at the unruly pile of books on his bed and conceded that perhaps they could wait until after he had eaten something.
"Hallelujah," James said, rolling his eyes. "And maybe Sirius will show up for dinner and tell us where he's been hiding all afternoon."
"No need," said Peter, pointing toward the dormitory window with wide eyes. It had begun opening of its own accord. "There he is now."
He was right. They all turned and watched as Sirius finished pushing the window open from the outside and climbed off of the hanging ladder onto the window sill. Snow flecked his hair, his robes were drenched, his lips blue with cold, but nevertheless he looked ecstatic as he pulled himself down from the sill and grinned at his three friends.
"I did it," he said, his voice raspy as if from lack of use. "I fucking did it!"
"You're joking!" said James, hurrying toward him and ignoring the small squeak Peter let slip at the language. "You did it?"
"Multiple times. Out on the ledge! Probably three or four times in all! I did it!"
James let out a strangled laugh of triumph and thrust his fist in the air victoriously.
Remus stared at Sirius, who seemed to be turning bluer by the second. "You've been out there in the snow all afternoon?" he asked incredulously. "Are you completely mental?"
"Probably," Sirius admitted, laughing and shaking the snow from his hair. "I used some Warming Charms at first, but it looks like they wore off here towards the end. I don't care about a little cold though… I did it!"
"Which means," said Peter, bouncing a bit on his toes and clapping his hands together in excitement, "we can all connect now. And we can move onto the next steps!"
"The spells," nodded James as Sirius began whipping off his wet robes and changing into dry ones. Remus was still slightly concerned about the color of his lips, which looked vaguely frostbitten.
"Tomorrow," said Sirius. His eyes held the same bright excitement that was usually reserved for mischief. "We'll start tomorrow."
"Sound all right, Remus?" asked James in mock concern. "Or will you be organizing your book collection tomorrow?"
Remus could not help but laugh with them all, feeling for the first time in months, as though things at Hogwarts were as normal as they ever could be.
"Tomorrow it is."