Chapter Four
Public Enemy Number Three
Remus was in shock.
He stared blankly at Professor McGonagall, who in turn eyed him coolly, though he thought he caught the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips before it was gone.
"I hope you understood what I just told you, Mr. Lupin," the strict witch said drily as Remus stood before her, gaping like a fish out of water. "Would you like me to repeat it?"
"No!" he said, a bit too quickly, and her brows inched higher. "I mean—no, Professor. I, er, heard the first time."
"Good," she said, nodding brusquely. She handed him a chart that she had apparently drawn up herself. He took it slowly, his fingers clumsy as he still tried to process what was happening. "You will record her progress here and bring it back to me after every meeting so I can assess how she is doing. I have already given her all the information she'll need, so I expect this all to go smoothly."
She gave him a warning look, and all he could do was nod. "Yes, Professor."
She sighed, shuffling around a few papers on her desk before she looked back up to him, lips pursed.
"Now, Mr. Lupin, I understand that in the past you have had some…difficulties between Miss Everlark and your friends." Remus tried not to snort at this, thinking of how much of an understatement that was. "However, to no degree do I want this feud to continue whilst you are working together in this club. It is unprofessional, distracting, and reflects none of the values we uphold in Gryffindor House. Do I make myself clear?"
Remus looked down at his feet, scuffing his worn shoe on the stone floor as he repeated, "Yes, Professor."
She gave him one last, measured look. "Go take a seat, Mr. Lupin. Class will begin shortly."
Remus did as he was told, slouching back to the row closest to the door where Peter, Sirius, and James had taken residence while he reflected on his rotten luck. Of course, only he would get stuck having to babysit Piper Everlark, probably the most unlikeable, rude, and downright unpleasant witch in Hogwarts. His last year as a student was supposed to be brilliant, and this was anything but.
His backside had barely grazed his chair before the Marauders pounced on him.
"What did Minnie want with you so early?" Sirius asked. He lounged in his seat, his feet propped on the desk in front of him, but Remus had long since given up trying to reprimand his friend for it.
He opened his mouth to respond but James cut in before he could say anything.
"It wasn't about us, was it?" the bespectacled boy asked, looking slightly miffed. "After all, I'm—"
"Head Boy now, yes, yes, we get it," Sirius drawled, rolling his eyes. "Tell us something new, Prongs."
James shot the dark-haired boy an affronted look. "What d'you mean by that, Pads?"
"Only that you've ever talked about it—"
"—every second of every day—" Remus interjected.
"—for the last century," Peter supplied.
"And let's not forget how many times you've mentioned Evans since we boarded the Express yesterday," Sirius added, wagging his finger at James.
James swatted his hand away, scowling at them. "Tossers," he muttered darkly, and the other three shared a wicked grin before his attention switched back to Remus. "Seriously, though, Moony, what did McGonagall want?"
Remus sunk lower in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Apparently, as punishment for what happened on the train yesterday" —he couldn't help shooting a pointed look at Sirius— "McGonagall assigned Piper Everlark to the Muggle Arts Club in an effort to curb her behavior. You know, the club that I'm in charge of."
Peter let out a strangled moan from where he was sat next to James, burying his head in his hands. "Please tell me you're joking."
Remus grimaced, shaking his head; Peter was the only other Marauder in the club, and his bad news was probably a devastating blow to the blond boy.
"Wish I was, Pete," he said, and Peter moaned again.
"That's it?" Sirius said, outraged. "Pimply hexes me with a Bat-Bogey and Minnie lets her join a club?"He turned his incredulous stare on the Transfiguration professor, who gave no indication that she was hearing his outburst. "Where is the justice?"
Remus turned to look at James, who had yet to voice his own disbelief, which the other boy found strange; James loathed Piper Everlark, but instead of wearing the expressions of mingled fury and disgust such as Sirius and Peter, he seemed to be contemplating something, his lips quirked and his brows drawn.
Before he could ask James's opinion on the matter, however, a distant bell chimed, and he turned away as Professor McGonagall began to speak from the front of the classroom, vowing to ask James what was on the boy's mind later as he settled in for what would undoubtedly be a complicated year.
By the time we got out of our last class for the day, I was famished.
I nearly sprinted up the stairs to get out of the dungeons where we had just had our N.E.W.T Potions class, Becca following behind me at a slower pace as we went to meet Emmeline and Dorcas. Unfortunately, we were the only two who were in Potions that year, since Emmeline's career path (which was journalism) didn't require her to take it anymore, and Dorcas hadn't gotten the grades to get in, which really put a cramp in our style, being split up like that, but hey. You can't have everything in life, right?
To be honest, I didn't quite know why I was still taking Potions either, much less taking the N.E.W.T level course for it since it had nothing to do with my career path. At least, I don't think. I never had any idea of what I wanted to do when I left school, and I still don't, but I had to give McGonagall something to work with when we met for our career advising plan last year. I think I told her something along the lines of being an Obliviator, which I was sure I had just made up, but she'd just given me a weird look and a packet that listed all the courses I would have to take up until seventh year that were required for it—thus, me being in Potions still, even though it was one of the most boring classes out there.
I bounded out of the staircase and shouldered aside a Slytherin girl who gave me a dirty look that I ignored as I spotted Emmeline and Dorcas waiting for us at the doors to the Great Hall. I started over to them, Becca finally managing to catch up to me and falling in step as we approached the other two girls.
I waved at them to get their attention, though the gesture was entirely useless when a voice behind me bellowed, "WHIMBLESBY!"
Now, if you don't go to Hogwarts, or just happen to be living under a rock, you might not understand the infamous story of Maggie Whimblesby and Argus Filch, the school's caretaker. Allow me to enlighten you.
Back in second year, little twelve-year-old me had decided that enough was enough; the Marauders had been torturing my friends and me for well over a year by then, and I was sick of it. The pranks, the embarrassment, the names, and for what? All because of a stupid disagreement that had happened in first year and painted me (and by default, anyone who had associated with me) as their Public Enemy Number Three. (You'll remember that Severus Snape and Bertram Aubrey are One and Two, respectively.)
Anyway, with me being the rebel child I was, I had decided to fight fire with fire, and had taken it upon myself to become the bane of the Marauders' existence: every prank of theirs was met with one that was, if not better, then on par with their own; every insult was met with either another one or a fist—you get the idea. I strived to become their personal rival, and they despised me even more for it. You can imagine, then, that I got into trouble just about as often as they did, which is where Filch comes in.
The first time I had gotten caught by the caretaker had been around March in my second year. I'd been walking down an empty corridor with a handful of dungbombs that I had been planning on setting off in the Marauders' dormitory, before I, the most graceful human being, had tripped and set them off in the corridor. Filch had arrived at the scene before I even thought about getting out of there, and in my fear of the caretaker, I told him that my name was Maggie Whimblesby as he had dragged me to his office to write me up. And ever since then, the name just stuck.
Any time I got in trouble, he would write me up as 'Maggie Whimblesby' and stick it in a file that he always threatened to show Professor Dumbledore, yet he never had, as far as I knew. Or maybe he had, and Professor Dumbledore had elected to ignore it, considering there was no student named Maggie Whimblesby at Hogwarts. As my popularity had grown, so had my alias's infamy; every student somehow knew that I was actually Maggie Whimblesby, and I had a nagging suspicion that some of the staff knew, too, yet I had never been turned in for it, not even by the Marauders or Lily Evans, which just goes to show how much everyone hates Filch. I think they just found it far too amusing to do much of anything about it, and I'd even overheard some younger students back in fourth year betting on how long it would take before Filch finally realized that he had been writing me up under a fictitious name all this time.
"Whimblesby!" Filch repeated, hobbling over to me with his demonic cat, Mrs. Norris, right on his heels.
I stopped walking and faced the caretaker calmly. "Mr. Filch." I clasped my hands behind my back and gave him a charming smile. "A pleasure to see you, as always."
The caretaker raked me over with narrow eyes while his jowls quivered with the force of his breath, and I strained not to wrinkle my nose at the strong stench of garlic.
"Don't play nice with me, Whimblesby!" he snapped. "I'll be keeping an extra careful eye on you this year; one more slip up…"
"And you'll make sure Professor Dumbledore expels me," I finished for him, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, got it. Just like every other year."
Filch eyed me angrily, looking like he wanted to write me up right then and there, but after a few seconds he shuffled off, grumbling under his breath to his cat as I relaxed, turning back to face my friends.
"C'mon, Maggie," Dorcas said, rolling her eyes while the others snickered. "Let's nip some food and go eat out in the courtyard."
She led us inside the Great Hall, where we nimbly snuck some portable food into our bags and pockets before discreetly escaping to the courtyard, claiming our small dusky corner hidden out of sight of the doors. Technically, we weren't allowed to sneak food out of the Great Hall, but it'd become a sort of habit for us since our third year, and it was a nice respite away from the other students.
"So, how was everyone's day?" Emmeline asked, picking at her roll while eyeing the rest of us eagerly.
"I only contemplated homicide four times and suicide twice, so not that bad," Dorcas said, licking the frosting off a vanilla cupcake before handing it off to me. One of the pillars that had built up our foundation of friendship was her disinterest in the cake part of the cupcake and my vehement hatred of frosting of any kind, so our bond was stronger than most friends'.
"That's downright cheerful for you, mate," I said around a mouthful of cake. A couple of crumbs spilled out of my mouth and onto my skirt, and Becca rolled her eyes at me and swept them onto the ground.
Dorcas snorted. "It's bloody peaceful, is what it is." She suddenly frowned, her golden eyes scanning the horizon while her nails ticked on the stone beneath us. "Y'know, come to think of it, have you lot noticed that this year seems to be a bit boring so far?"
"What do you mean?" Emmeline said, her brows scrunching. "It's only the second day."
"Wish I could relate," I mumbled, thinking back to the incident on the train and McGonagall's subsequent punishment, but they ignored me.
"I dunno." Dorcas shrugged. "I just feel like something's…off."
"It's probably just you, Dor," Becca teased.
Dorcas smiled ruefully before nodding to the courtyard. "Perhaps, Becca. Yet perhaps I have also spoken too soon, because I feel like things are about to get very interesting in the next ten seconds."
We all frowned before we followed her gaze to the ajar double doors leading out to the courtyard, and I internally groaned when Remus Lupin emerged into the courtyard and looked around before he spotted us and walked over, his entire being oozing reluctance.
"Wonder what pretty boy wants?" Dorcas mused, watching him approach like a cat studying a mouse.
"Hey, Geek God!" Becca called, waving to the sandy-haired boy. "Damn, did I say geek again? You know I always mean Greek."
Lupin looked as if he were struggling with himself not to just turn around and walk away, so I decided to take pity on him and cut to the chase.
"What's up, Drama King?" I said, hopping down from the archway we were perched in and sauntering toward him, my hands in my robe pockets. "Come to lord your club kingship over your newly acquired, not-yet loyal subject?"
He only stared at me coldly, but I could guess that he was grinding his teeth into dust in that moment when I saw a muscle in his jaw twitch.
"Not exactly," he managed before casting a disdainful look to the three girls behind me. "Can I speak to you?"
I pretended to study my nails, deciding to milk this for all it was worth; Lupin may have been a prefect and so thought himself above the taunts and insults the other Marauders had thrown at me over the years, but I knew that he still despised me as much as the others, and though he had never participated directly in our war, he had never tried to stop it either.
I finally looked up at him, raising a brow as his scowl deepened. "Last I checked, you already were."
I honestly thought he was about to shove me over for a second, but he only shook his head, jabbing a finger at the other girls, who all tittered. "I meant alone."
Dorcas let out a catcall while Becca whistled, Emmeline giggling like mad.
"Damn, Lupin, I always took you as the shy one," Dorcas jeered.
"Watch out for him, Pipes," Becca said, waggling her brows. "He might try to cop a feel."
"Use protection!" Emmeline sang, and they all laughed again while I rolled my eyes at their antics, though I couldn't hide my smirk at Lupin's red face.
"Piss off," he shot at them. He grabbed my elbow and practically dragged me away, crossing the courtyard and ducking into an alcove that overlooked the deep gorge that surrounded the southern end of the castle. It was quiet here, I noticed; the only sounds I could hear were the far-off rushing of the water in the gorge that fed into the Black Lake and the crows squawking as they flew by, with the occasional hoot of an owl.
"Professor McGonagall already gave me the schedule for your barmy club, so I don't know why I'm supposed to be here," I said, tugging my arm out of his grasp and crossing both over my chest as he faced me.
"You're here because I'm going to give you a warning, Everlark," he said.
"I'm quaking already."
"Look," he said, glaring at me. "I didn't ask for you to be in this club either, but since McGonagall is hellbent on you straightening up your act, we're stuck with it. All I'm saying is that if you fuck this up for all of us, then I'll make sure you're out of this castle before graduation. Got it?"
"Wow, Lupin, I'm impressed," I said. "I almost took you seriously there for a second."
He threw his hands up in frustration. "You're entirely impossible." He shook his head, staring at me in amazement. "How anyone in this school can tolerate you is beyond me."
I gave him a nasty smile. "I wonder the same thing about you and your mates."
We stared at each other for a long moment, our years-long animosity hanging in the air between us like a war banner sodden with mud and blood. It reminded me of another instance, a long time ago, where we had been in this exact situation before. Maybe he realized it, too, because he finally took a step back, turning toward the courtyard.
"First meeting is next Wednesday after dinner," he said, not facing me. "Don't be late."
He rounded the corner and disappeared, leaving me alone to stare out at the distant mountains and watch the crows circle high in the air.
