With their budding relationship, the dynamics among the Marauders shifted again, adding a new layer of tension. James sought out Hermione more and more, which in turn often left poor Remus to fend for himself. Ever respectful, Remus quietly opted not to intrude on their time together, insisting it was only fair they had their moments uninterrupted. Yet, he'd never admit the pang of loneliness it sometimes left him with, content with the few hours the Quidditch practice provided that Hermione still refused to attend—those were the times he cherished the most, knowing he'd have her company all to himself.
On one of these afternoons, as they settled into a cosy corner of the library, Lily suddenly appeared, her expression full of purpose.
"Remus, mind if I borrow Hermione for a bit?" Lily asked with a polite, though pointed, smile.
Remus gave Hermione a playful look, his eyebrow raised. "Well, I'd be a poor prefect if I stood in the way of whatever mysterious girl business this is," he said, smirking as he waved them off. "Go on, Hermione, I'll just be here drowning in dusty books if you need me."
Once they were alone, Lily turned to Hermione, crossing her arms with an expectant gleam in her eye.
"Alright, spill," Lily demanded, half-amused, half-curious, her eyes practically gleaming. "I want to know everything."
Hermione laughed nervously, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "Alright, alright. Well, you know about the New Year's party the Potters host every year?"
Lily nodded, her grin widening. "Go on…"
Hermione took a deep breath, then recounted how James had surprised her with a kiss at midnight. She explained how her first instinct was to pull back, uncertain, but how she'd ultimately decided to kiss him back. Her cheeks flushed as she relived the moment, her voice softening as she described how James had looked at her afterward—equal parts surprised and certain.
Lily's eyes widened, a mixture of delight and disbelief on her face. "James actually had the courage to just… kiss you? At the party? I never thought he'd do that! He's been all talk for so long."
Hermione laughed. "Trust me, it surprised me too. I half-expected him to apologise or make it some big, awkward joke, but…" she trailed off, smiling to herself. "But he didn't. He was just… sincere."
Lily's grin softened, a knowing look in her eyes. "That's honestly wonderful, Hermione. If James has finally learned to take things seriously, you might be exactly what he needs."
Hermione glanced down, a bit flustered, but her smile was undeniable. "I just hope I can keep up with him. He's been… well, he's been different lately. But I never expected any of this."
Lily laughed, nudging Hermione's shoulder playfully. "If anyone can keep James Potter in line, it's you. And if I'm honest, I think you're good for him."
Hermione couldn't help but smile, her earlier anxieties easing under Lily's reassuring words. "Thanks, Lily. I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with it… I know he's chased after you for years."
Lily shook her head. "Oh, trust me. It's a relief he's finally found someone who might just be his match," she replied with a wink. "Now go back to Remus before he turns into one of those books he's buried under. And maybe think about making it to a Quidditch practice one day," she added with a teasing look. "James might actually die of happiness."
"Not happening," Hermione replied, laughing.
With a final smirk, Lily turned to leave, and Hermione made her way back to Remus, grateful that, whatever unfolded, she had one more friend in her corner.
January 10th brought with it a rare and electric sight: a thundersnow storm. Hermione looked up from her book as the first thunder rolled in, sending a shiver through the stone walls of the castle. Snow was already swirling outside in fierce flurries, and the sky held that dim, charged light that always precedes a storm. She glanced toward James, Sirius, and Peter a few couches over, noticing them exchange glances, then nod to each other before getting up in unison, expressions all set with a determined energy.
Remus, seated beside her, caught her eye and gave a resigned sigh. "Is this it?"
"Probably," Hermione said, keeping her voice low as the boys slipped out of the common room, each casting one last glance back with a mixture of nerves and excitement.
Remus looked down, his fingers tapping against his book. His expression was unreadable for a moment, torn between wary hope and an underlying unease. "We'll see soon enough if their efforts paid off, I suppose." He was quiet for a beat. "I don't know if I should be happy for them or just terrified of what this could mean."
Hermione rested a hand on his shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "I understand," she murmured. "It's... complicated, isn't it?"
"They don't really understand what they're getting into," he said, voice thick with worry. "Not really. The thought of them putting themselves in danger for me…"
"But Remus," she said, leaning in slightly, "they're doing it because they care about you, not because they're trying to risk their necks. They want to help, and this is their way of proving it."
He sighed, looking down at his hands, which fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. "I know that. And I'm grateful. But the wolf is…" He trailed off, as if unable to find the words. "It's not just a game. I know they think they're prepared, but what if they're not?"
Hermione met his gaze, a gentle determination in her eyes. "They wouldn't be doing this if they weren't serious about it. They've been working on this for years, and they've already made incredible progress. If it's successful tonight, we'll know they're ready. And if not…" She hesitated, then offered a soft smile. "Then they'll be back in here before the next thunderclap."
He chuckled softly at that, his tension easing ever so slightly. "Let's hope."
They waited, the moments dragging on as the storm intensified outside, flashes of lightning occasionally illuminating the snow-covered landscape in startling, ghostly white. Remus kept glancing toward the door as if expecting them to burst through at any moment.
Hermione and Remus continued to sit together, both lost in thoughts and worries. After the first hour passed with no sign of the boys, they shared a quiet look, Remus's brow furrowing in concern.
"They should be back by now," he murmured, glancing at the door for what must have been the hundredth time.
Hermione reached over, placing a steadying hand on his arm. "They'll be alright," she said, trying to sound certain. "They know what they're doing… at least, mostly. Maybe they just need time to figure out how to turn back."
But as the storm showed no signs of letting up and the hour grew even later, they both began to doubt their own reassurances. A yawn escaped Hermione, her hand covering her mouth as she blinked against the sleepiness creeping in. Remus mirrored her with a tired sigh, running a hand over his face.
"Maybe we should head up," he finally said. "They might've just… needed more time."
"Yeah," Hermione replied, glancing again toward the door, hoping to see them rushing back in, victorious and unscathed. But the portrait hole stayed closed, and the common room was as empty as ever.
They lingered a moment longer, both clearly unwilling to leave without knowing for sure, but the fatigue was winning. With one last look toward the door, they finally rose from their spot by the fire.
As they made their way up the dormitory stairs, Hermione turned to Remus, giving him a small smile. "They'll be back soon, I'm sure of it. And tomorrow, they'll have a grand story to tell about how it all went."
Remus nodded, managing a faint smile of his own. "Yeah. Tomorrow."
With that, they parted for the night, both silently hoping that the next morning would bring good news. And as they slipped into their beds, the storm outside finally began to subside, the thunder fading into the distance as sleep pulled them under.
Hermione descended the stairs to find an unusual scene unfolding in the common room. Remus was standing stiffly, his arms crossed defensively as he stared down James, Sirius, and Peter, who looked like they were pleading with him. James was trying his best to coax him, his tone softer than usual, almost imploring.
"Come on, Remus," James was saying, his voice both eager and serious. "Just… just let us show you. I know you're still angry at Sirius, but you've got to see what we've done for you."
Remus's jaw clenched. "I don't know if I'm ready for… all of this yet," he muttered, shooting a glare at Sirius, who was standing silently, almost shrinking under Remus's scrutiny.
Sirius spoke up then, his voice low. "I get it, Remus. I do. But… please. Give us—give me a chance to show you why we did it. It's for you, mate."
Remus's gaze faltered, his shoulders sagging slightly, and he shook his head, the mix of hurt and conflict evident. That was when James noticed Hermione approaching and motioned for her to join them, including her in the circle of quiet tension.
"What's going on?" she asked, glancing at Remus, then the others, trying to gauge the situation.
Sirius answered, his voice rough. "Please just let us show you our Animagi. You can still decide to be angry with me after."
Remus looked over at Hermione, his expression uncertain but resigned. She gave him a small, encouraging nod, sensing that this moment was important not just for him but for all of them, despite everything.
"All right," Remus murmured reluctantly. "Let's get it over with."
They made their way out of the common room and down through the castle, finally arriving at the seventh floor. James led the way, pacing back and forth in front of a blank wall, muttering under his breath until the Room of Requirement appeared. He opened the door, revealing a spacious room with ample space for whatever demonstration they had planned.
"Ready?" James asked, his voice tinged with excitement as they all stepped inside.
Remus crossed his arms, his face a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. "Just get on with it."
Without another word, James closed his eyes, and in one fluid motion, he transformed. His form lengthened, broadened, until he stood as a magnificent stag, tall and imposing, with antlers that stretched toward the ceiling. His deep, expressive eyes looked back at them, the spark of James's familiar mischief evident.
Then Sirius stepped forward, giving Remus one last searching look before he shifted, transforming seamlessly into a massive black dog. His fur was sleek, dark as midnight, almost resembling a Grim from the old stories. He moved toward James, nuzzling the stag's side, then looked at Remus with a tentative wag of his tail.
Peter transformed last, shrinking down into a rat that darted about nervously, his small body darting between the stag's hooves and the dog's paws.
The noise of the world faded to a still hum around Hermione as she took in the sight of the boys in their Animagus forms, standing there like pieces of a puzzle she hadn't even known she was holding. James's form brought a quiet pang in her chest. Just like Harry's Patronus. Her gaze then fell on the large black dog, sleek and dark with an almost otherworldly intensity in his sharp grey eyes.
Her mind flashed to the nights of her third year, to the familiar dog shadowing Crookshanks, her astute half-Kneazle who had trusted the creature without question.
That dog was Sirius Black.
Her cat had been running around with the supposedly crazed convict she had once feared. The same cat who was a very good judge of character.
Her gaze drifted down to the small rat skittering nervously around James's hooves. Peter's Animagus. The fur was a little thicker, the body a bit younger, and, glaringly, there was no missing toe, but he looked eerily like Scabbers.
She remembered another thing Crookshanks had been very adamant about doing that year. Hunting Scabbers. Had Crookshanks been trying to get Scabbers for Sirius? The implications were astonishing.
Hermione's heart sped up, a prickling dread seeping into her veins as the pieces clicked into place, one after another, each one more devastating than the last. Peter Pettigrew had been alive, hiding, for years, as the Weasleys' pet.
But if Pettigrew was alive… Sirius Black couldn't have killed him.
The realisation cascaded into a painful, dizzying clarity. Pettigrew had been alive in her time, hiding in plain sight as a pet rat for over a decade. But if he were alive, then Sirius's imprisonment was at least partially built on a lie. He had been locked away, despised by the wizarding world, for a crime that… he hadn't committed? Without a trial to boot?
Hermione pressed a hand to her lips, her mind spinning through every detail she knew about the night the Potters had died. They had been under a Fidelius Charm, a powerful protective spell requiring a Secret Keeper. The Potters were betrayed, their location revealed to Voldemort. But if Pettigrew was still alive, she had to rethink everything she'd thought she'd known.
Everyone knew Sirius had been James's best friend and Harry's godfather, the obvious choice for Secret Keeper. It was the narrative everyone had accepted. But if he had actually been the Secret Keeper, then why had he gone after Peter the next day? Sirius was known to have sought Peter out, to have chased him down in the aftermath. And if Sirius had been the Secret Keeper, then why do that? Sure everyone assumed he was crazy and hellbent on finishing off their whole friend group, but that didn't really make sense. If Sirius had been working for Voldemort, killing Peter had no strategic value.
What if it had been Peter all along?
What if Peter was the one they had entrusted with their lives, with Harry's life? That would explain so much more. It would mean Sirius hadn't betrayed them; he'd simply been… fooled. Tricked. He'd gone after Peter because he'd figured it out too late, and he hadn't been able to stop him.
Hermione closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the possibilities shift in her mind, illuminating a horrifying picture. Sirius, wild with guilt, likely blamed himself for everything—for suggesting the switch in the first place most likely. It wouldn't have been James's idea that's for sure.
And Peter… she felt her hands curl into fists. So, why would Peter stay hidden all these years if he hadn't been the traitor? It was another piece that didn't add up if one insisted on the version where Sirius was the culprit. The Weasleys had him for long enough to serve as a pet for at least two kids, first Percy, then Ron. That wasn't just hiding—that was… what? Survival? There was only one reason Peter would need to stay hidden so long: he feared something. Someone. If Sirius was in Azkaban, then who? Voldemort? His remaining Death Eaters perhaps? He would have been blamed for sending their Lord to his death by revealing the Potters' location for sure. Or was he afraid Sirius would escape if he found out where he was? Well, that's what happened, though she didn't know how Sirius could have found out… except there was that article in the Prophet about the Weasleys in Egypt. Had Scabbers been in the picture? She couldn't remember.
She thought of that long paw missing a toe she'd seen Scabbers clutch at, the paw Ron had never even noticed as anything strange. Only a finger had been left behind, a relic of Peter's supposed "death." And yet, with all the muggles who died in the explosion, identifiable in the aftermath, why would only a finger remain? Because Peter had left it behind. He'd faked his own death, framing Sirius in the process. And when the time came, Peter cast the blasting curse himself, left a finger behind as a gruesome calling card, and scurried off into hiding, letting the world believe he was dead.
The articles she had found of that incident had always mentioned that Sirius laughed maniacally after the explosion. But it wasn't a confession. It was guilt, grief, and maybe some twisted, broken pride at knowing that he'd made the fatal choice to change Secret Keepers, to keep himself ready to die for his friends, but to ultimately miss the mark in protecting them. Sirius was certainly a tad unhinged, she could see him reacting like that to the loss.
It was all a lie.
The weight of it crashed over her, making her dizzy with the shock, with the cold realisation that everything she'd once accepted about Sirius, about the truth, was twisted beyond repair. Sirius hadn't been a villain. He'd been a victim, a scapegoat for the true betrayer.
"Hermione!" James's voice broke through the tangled thoughts, her name like a lifeline pulling her out of the hurricane of revelations. She blinked, grounding herself back in the present moment, facing the boys who were now back in their human forms, all of them looking at her with deep concern etched into their faces, but James right in front of her, his steadying hands on her arms.
"You alright?" James's brow furrowed as he scanned her face.
She nodded, though her voice shook as she forced a small, tight smile. "Y-yeah. I'm… I'm alright." But her heart was pounding with the weight of everything she'd just realised. The truth wasn't just on the surface; it was a living thing inside her now, raw and overwhelming.
As if guided by an instinct she couldn't quite articulate, Hermione took a shaky step forward, stepping around James, and then another, until she was right in front of Sirius. Without a second thought, she threw her arms around him, holding him tightly. He was still reckless—so reckless. Someone who didn't think things through. But he wasn't the killer she'd thought him to be. He was flawed, yes, and his temper was volatile, as was his willingness to plunge headlong into danger. Yet she now understood that he was innocent of the crime she'd been sure he'd committed. She couldn't bear to keep punishing him, not with knowing he'd spent twelve years in Azkaban for something he hadn't done.
The weight of it all was too much, and she found herself sobbing into Sirius's chest, releasing the pent-up anger and mistrust she'd carried for so long. She could feel him tense up, his hands hovering uncertainly before resting on her back, trying to process her sudden reaction. When the shock wore off, he gave a feeble attempt at humour.
"I guess Kitten is a dog person?" he murmured, his voice rough yet soft.
The faint joke broke the tension, bringing a small, tearful laugh out of her. Hermione pulled back slightly, her hands still gripping his arms, looking up at him with puffy eyes and a watery smile. Behind them, James and Peter exchanged wide-eyed glances, each looking as bewildered as Sirius felt. But it was Remus, standing quietly off to the side, who seemed to understand most of all.
In a way, it was as if he'd been waiting for this moment, waiting for her permission, unspoken as it was. Watching her, he seemed to make a silent decision himself. After all, the three Animagi standing before him weren't just a reckless group of boys. They were his friends, his chosen family, willing to take unimaginable risks for him. He could forgive Sirius.
Slowly, a small smile crept onto Remus's face, a hint of excitement flickering in his eyes as he looked at each of them in turn. For the first time, he allowed himself to imagine what this could mean—what it might mean for him to have not just one, but four Animagi friends.
Sirius's hands settled on Hermione's shoulders as she took a step back, steadying herself. "So, uh… what brought that on?" he asked, a hint of genuine concern mingling with his typical mischief.
Hermione looked down, shaking her head with a mixture of disbelief and relief. "I just… I didn't realise. I thought… I thought I knew everything. But maybe I didn't."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, but he didn't push further, as if sensing that some things were better left unspoken, at least for now. They exchanged a look that was both an apology and an unspoken forgiveness. Finally, Remus broke the silence, looking between his friends with an air of reluctant acceptance.
"Well, looks like I've got a lot of things to get used to," Remus said, a wry smile pulling at his lips, his voice lighter than it had been in months. "An ermine, a stag, a rat, and a dog. Merlin help me."
Sirius gave him a friendly nudge, clearly relieved to have this semblance of peace again. "You love it, Moony, admit it. Besides, we're a stylish crew. I mean, with a sleek ermine and a noble stag in the mix? Talk about a winning team. Almost like a regal portrait."
James laughed, clapping Remus on the back. "Just you wait until you see us all together under the moon. It'll be legendary. Right, Kitten?" He shot Hermione a grin, his eyes bright with the spark of a new adventure.
She rolled her eyes but laughed, feeling a warmth that only her friends could bring. "I'll consider myself lucky if the four of you don't give me a heart attack," she replied, raising an eyebrow at Sirius in particular, who looked perfectly unrepentant.
"Come on, Kitten," Sirius said with a grin, his tone almost mischievous. "A little chaos never hurt anyone."
Hermione just shook her head, smiling as she glanced at Remus, who gave her a grateful nod. Their world had changed, but for the first time in a long while, she felt that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.
She couldn't bring herself to look at Peter, though, the weight of her suspicions burning like a hot coal in her chest. Every instinct told her to be cautious, to watch his every move, no matter how normal or unassuming he appeared. It made her feel uneasy, but she resolved, with steely determination, that Peter would never again be entrusted with information that could endanger her friends. She'd do whatever was necessary to protect them from anything—or anyone—who might hurt them.
Sirius noticed her shift in focus—and more importantly mood—and nudged her gently. "Earth to Kitten—starting to think you're the one in need of a calming draught."
She snapped back to the present, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Just taking in the chaos I've willingly signed up for, apparently." Her hands, though, were still trembling, and before she even realised it, her knees buckled, the sudden release of adrenaline leaving her lightheaded.
"Whoa—easy there!" James said, catching her just in time, his arms steady around her as he guided her to sit down on one of the conjured chairs in the Room of Requirement. She leaned forward with her forehead in her palm, the overwhelming weight of everything she'd just realised settling over her like a storm.
"Merlin, Hermione, are you okay?" Remus asked, stepping closer, his brow knitted with concern.
She tried to laugh, but her voice came out thin, as she straightened back up pressing a hand against her stomach, willing the wave of nausea to pass. "I guess I'm just already imagining all the heart attacks I'll have chasing after you lot every full moon, keeping you out of trouble."
James chuckled, squeezing her shoulder. "Good thing we have you for that, then. Couldn't think of a better person to handle it." But even his usual confidence had an edge of concern, and he knelt beside her, steadying her.
Remus watched her closely, his brow still furrowed. "You sure you're alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"More like the ghosts of my sanity," she joked, though she knew her mind was spinning too quickly for the words to land with the usual humour. She forced herself to look at Remus, then at Sirius, who was still watching her with that mix of sheepishness and hope. "But… I think we'll manage," she said softly, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "Just… try not to get yourselves into anything too dangerous, alright?"
Sirius flashed a half-grin, though it was a bit subdued. "No promises, Kitten. But we'll try not to get you chasing after us too much." He paused, watching her carefully. "You really do look a bit pale, though."
"I'll live," she murmured, glancing down to avoid his gaze, afraid that he might see the turmoil underneath her forced calm.
But Remus stepped closer, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. "You're not in this alone, Hermione. You know that, right?"
Her heart clenched, and she took a steadying breath, nodding. "I know," she whispered, though her mind whispered back with a storm of questions. "And I'm counting on you lot to help keep me sane."
James gave a soft laugh, reaching over to ruffle her hair with surprising gentleness. "Well, sanity might be a stretch in our company. But you've got us just the same."
At that, the tension seemed to ease a bit, and she took another calming breath.