A/N: One of my favorites, and the last chapter of 3rd year. Onward!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and I am not her.
Chapter 34 - 3.13 or "Peter Pettigrew's Fourteenth Natal Day"
Peter Pettigrew's birthday fell in the middle of June, and as exams were looming large, it arrived as always with very little fanfare. With the noted exception of the curiously sudden popularity of noisy Dissimulators, the castle had descended into a tense quiet, with students spending their mealtimes desperately trying to squeeze in a few extra minutes of studying, and upper-years scolding anyone who talked too loudly or branded a Dissimulator in the common rooms or library. The full moon, luckily, had fallen earlier in the month, so despite the fact that Remus had suffered his longest stay in the hospital wing to date (three nights), he had not fallen too far behind in his exam preparations. This left him some room to sympathize with the fact that no one, once again, seemed to care at all about Peter's birthday.
"We'll celebrate your birthday this weekend," shrugged James, as the four boys sat down to breakfast in the Great Hall. "We've got Transfiguration homework tonight, remember?"
Transfiguration homework was how the boys had been referring to their Animagi practice all year. Remus glanced at Peter to see how he would take this flippancy, and found a rather dour expression on his friend's face.
"Well that can wait until tomorrow," Remus offered, "so we can celebrate Peter's birthday tonight."
"Nonsense," said Sirius through a mouthful of eggs. "We've got to get the Form spells down by end of term so that we can do the mandrake leaf rubbish over the summer holiday."
"Will you lower your voice?" Remus implored, glancing around the table to see if anyone had overheard, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention at all.
"Plus I've got Quidditch tomorrow," said James.
"Seems stupid that you've still got so many Quidditch practices, considering Gryffindor's not even in the running anymore for the Cup," muttered Peter. "The team's shit, anyway." They all turned to look at him, shocked into silence for a moment. It was such an un-Peter-like thing to say.
James was the first to recover, and he did so with an angry thump to Peter's shoulder. "Sod off!"
"Not a very cheery birthday boy, are you?" said Sirius without a trace of sympathy.
Peter stared down at his plate and rubbed his shoulder. "Sorry," he said, but Remus could not tell if he meant it or not.
"We've still got a shot at second place if we beat the Puffs this weekend," argued James, who did not acknowledge the apology. "And we have got a chance at the Cup if Ravenclaw beats Slytherin."
Remus privately felt that there was as much of a chance of that happening as there was of him ever becoming Minister of Magic, but he knew better than to say that to James. Sirius, though, had no such filter.
"Well, there's always next year," he laughed. "And Beal will be done Hogwarts, so you'll get a new Captain."
"Do you think it'll be Peakes?" asked Remus, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters for Peter's sake.
James nodded. "It won't be Walker…he's a bleeding good Chaser, but he can't string three words together, can he?" He paused and then glanced a little ways down the Gryffindor table, at where Andrew Adamsly sat, talking amicably to Lily Evans. "And there's no way it'll be Adamsly. With the way he's flown this year, he'll be lucky to even make the team next year…"
No one felt the need to argue the point. Peter, though, still looking down at his eggs, said, "I heard Adamsly's going to the last Hogsmeade visit with Evans…"
There was a loud clank, as James dropped his fork on his plate and looked at Peter incredulously. "Again?"
Peter shrugged. Sirius snorted. Remus did his best to avert his gaze. During the Hogsmeade visit in early May, James had spent much of his time not-so-subtly following Lily from shop to shop. Remus was not particularly keen on the idea of spending one of his last free days of the term once again attempting to distract James from spying on Lily Evans and Andrew Adamsly.
"What do they need to go together again for?" James asked, goggling down the table at the pair. "Hasn't she had sufficient time to suss out that he's a right bore?"
"Well she is the one who pals round with Snivellus, mate," Sirius pointed out, helping himself to a second serving of bacon. "Clearly not a model of good judgment."
"Why does it matter?" asked Peter, now looking up from his plate to speak to James directly. Remus had never heard him be so short with anyone before, let alone with James. "You said you don't even like her, so why do you even care?"
James scoffed dismissively, but Remus could not help but notice how pink his ears went. "I don't. And why are you being such a twat this morning, eh?"
"Yeah, aren't you supposed to be happy it's your birthday, at least 'til you're about fifty or so?" said Sirius.
"Nice of you to remember it's my birthday," muttered Peter.
"What are you on about?" James said. "We were just talking about celebrating your birthday this weekend!"
"But it's not this weekend!" argued Peter. "It's today!"
"Fine!" Jame shouted, and several studying students nearby turned to glare at him. He lowered his voice. "Fine. We'll celebrate your bloody birthday tonight."
"Why is fourteen turning you into such a ruddy drama queen?" asked Sirius.
Peter seemed to deflate in his seat, and did not meet any of their eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled again. "Sorry."
Remus noticed Sirius and James exchange annoyed glances, but luckily, the conversation was paused at that moment, as hundreds of owls swooped into the Great Hall to deliver the morning post.
"Good," said James, peering up at the myriad of different owls. "Maybe one of your mums will have sent news of your being allowed to travel to the World Cup. Only it's been near two weeks since my mum wrote to them all asking."
Remus reached up to grab his copy of the Daily Prophet before it knocked over his juice and said to James pointedly, "Or more importantly, perhaps Peter's parents have sent him a birthday package…"
But this turned out to be the worst thing Remus could have said. When the Pettigrew family owl landed on the table in front of Peter, it held only a small square letter, which Peter took from it. He sighed dejectedly as he flipped it open.
"What's it say?" James reached for the letter eagerly but Peter dodged him and continued reading. "Are you allowed to go with us? Did they say it's all right?"
In a most uncharacteristic fashion, Peter ignored both James and the plate of untouched food in front of him and stood up from the table, pulling his bag over his shoulder.
"Where are you going?" Sirius asked, as they all looked up at him confused.
Peter seemed even unhappier than he had a few minutes prior. "It doesn't mention anything about the Wolrd Cup." He did not meet anyone's eye as he stepped out over the bench. "My mum's had the baby. Early this morning. A girl. Susan Elizabeth. Born on my birthday."
"Congrats, mate!" said James, clearly attempting to push any bitterness from the previous discourse behind them. "On your birthday too…what are the odds?"
"I'd better go write her before lessons," mumbled Peter. Shoulders dejectedly slumped, he turned to make his way down the aisle along the Gryffindor table and nearly ran into Gin Leigh as she stood up to take an early retreat as well. Like Peter, she had a letter in her hand and a sour expression on her face. They exited the Great Hall one after the other.
Sirius watched them both leave and then, clearly unconcerned, turned to Remus. "Nothing from your parents?"
"Suppose not," Remus replied, feeling a distinct since of hopelessness at the thought. "Though my mum said they'd need time to think about it and I don't imagine they'll have decided yet."
"What's there to think about?" James scoffed. "The Dissimulators have worked perfectly thus far, we'll be with my parents the whole time, we'll have our wands, and we'll only be gone a night or two. Surely they'll say yes, eh Remus?"
Remus was not so confident. Despite the success of the early stages of the boys' plan to smuggle their wands into the Quidditch World Cup, he was not certain that his parents would allow him to travel to Spain with the Potters, wand or no wand. His father had always been concerned about his ability to manage both his lycanthropy and his friendships, and had hesitated in the past to even allow Remus to visit the Potter house during the summers. He supposed it was a good sign they had not dismissed the idea of the Cup out of hand, though he had still not allowed himself to truly hope that the journey to Spain might occur. Of course, he had not raised these worries to his friends in the knowledge that they would disregard his concern. Their certainty in their plans and their own cleverness was ever-present and unburdened by such trivial things as a parent's agreeability.
Wanting distraction from the conversation at hand, Remus turned his attention to the newspaper. This, too, proved to be a mistake, as he had only just flipped to the third page when a small headline toward the bottom caught his eye: "WEREWOLVES ATTACK LEEDS – THREE MUGGLES DEAD."
His stomach rolled over. "Oh God."
"What is it?" Sirius asked, peering over his shoulder at the paper.
Glancing around first to ensure that still no one was paying them any attention, Remus pointed out the article to Sirius. The short text underneath the headline gave very few details, other than that the Ministry suspected it was a planned attack and that there were multiple werewolves involved.
"Odd, isn't it?" said James, once Remus had shown the article to him as well. "Do werewolves normally travel in packs?"
Both James and Sirius looked to Remus as if he would know the answer to the question. His fingers began trembling, and he folded up the newspaper so as to make the shaking less obvious.
"I – I don't know." His brain felt foggy all of a sudden…he had never heard of werewolves murdering Muggles before. He shook himself, unable to process what must have happened. "Maybe it was just a coincidence?"
"Maybe," Sirius agreed, but his face was dark and Remus knew he did not believe for a second that it had been a coincidence.
They fell into quiet as they turned back to their breakfasts, and though James and Sirius eventually began revisiting their discussion of the World Cup, Remus tried his best to tune them out. He had felt so content that morning when he was readying for the day, and now he was trying to dispel not only the constant fear of disappointing his friends, but also the disturbing notion of a pack of werewolves attacking Muggles.
"…and Stu said Zonko's orders have been the highest he's ever seen," James was saying. "Old Zonko's had to hire a few extra wands just to keep up."
Sirius shook his head and laughed. "We should have asked for a cut. It was our idea, anyhow. We've got to start monetizing our enterprising spirit."
"And just think, you were only having a laugh letting Peter spend his knuts on that old Dissimulator in the first place," snorted James.
"Guys," Remus said suddenly, dispelling disturbing images of werewolves and Muggles and focusing on the troubled expression Peter had worn as he had left the table. "I think we should do something for Peter."
James and Sirius looked at him, surprised.
"Why?" asked Sirius. "For being such a git?"
But Remus did not waver this time under Sirius's gaze. "No. Because he's our friend and it's his birthday and that should be enough. But if it's not, then because his birthday will always be overshadowed from now on by his little sister's birthday, and if you two opened your eyes maybe you'd see how upset he was by it."
It was rare for Remus to speak so sternly to the two of them, and they both raised their eyebrows at his tone.
"Is something in the water today, or what?" said Sirius, half-joking, half-confused.
"All right," James said, ignoring Sirius. "You're right, Moony. We'll think of something to do, the four of us. And we'll do it tonight."
Remus nodded, swallowed the guilt-laden lump in his throat, and took another bite of his toast.
It had started in January, these visits every few weeks during morning break, and perhaps Remus would have been more embarrassed by them if he hadn't enjoyed them so much. The first time he had spent the entirety of his break in Professor Romielle's office, his friends had been dumbfounded.
"You're voluntarily spending time with a professor?" Sirius had asked, amazed.
"You know how many hours we've been forced to spend sitting detention in that office, Remus?" James had said, shuddering. "When Eldon was here it smelled like mothballs."
"And when Philpott was here it smelled like feet. And also carrots, but just the one time," Sirius added. "Why on earth are you hanging about in there for fun?"
But Remus hadn't cared what they thought, even when they teased him for supposedly fancying their professor. Every few weeks, when he had read through the latest books she had recommended him, or when he had some questions about a particularly tricky bit of magic they had learned in their lessons, he would pop by during break. And, to her credit, Professor Romielle would always make time for him.
Today, though, when he had stopped by to return a book she had lent him on defensive spell theory, she did not seem quite like herself. The circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, and when she offered him a cup of tea, her voice was higher pitched than he had heard it before.
"How is your exam preparation faring, Remus?" she asked, in what he assumed was an attempt to make normal conversation.
He fiddled with the handle of his tea cup. It was the same one she offered him every time. He knew because it had a tiny chip in the side of it, and he had often wondered why she didn't just repair it via magic, but had never found the courage to ask.
"It's all right, I reckon," he said. "Only my Potions marks have been low, and Arithmancy's always challenging."
She gave him a small smile. "I've spoken with Professor Vector about you, before. I think you underestimate your ability in Arithmancy, much the same way you do in Defense."
The idea that she had discussed him with another professor was both mortifying and thrilling, somehow.
"I'm just behind," he said, staring down into his tea. "I'm always behind because of my…absences."
There was a silence that followed this declaration, and before these sorts of pauses made Remus uncomfortable, but now he liked the way she took her time to think through her responses to him. She was deliberate in her words, considerate in her actions.
"You handle it beautifully," she told him at length. "To miss so many lessons and yet still perform so well as a pupil is something you should be very proud of, Remus."
"Thank you."
She smiled but said nothing, and they sat there together for a minute or two, quietly sipping their tea, until Remus found his nerve.
"There was an – an article this morning in the Daily Prophet…" He trailed off, cleared his throat, and started again. "In the newspaper. An article about…about werewolves killing three Muggles near Leeds…"
"I had heard about that, yes," she said, and he may have been imagining it, but it seemed as if the shadows on her face became more pronounced. She gazed out the window, toward a group of Hufflepuffs studying by the lake shore. It was a beautiful June day, with perfectly clear skies and a chorus of birds singing a sprightly refrain. "I assume you weren't satisfied by the Prophet's negligible coverage of the tragedy?"
"I don't know," he told her honestly. He considered her question. "I don't want people to hate werewolves even more. But I reckon there's more going on than what the Prophet is covering, and people should be able to know about it."
She nodded, still looking out the window, though he wasn't sure if she was seeing much of anything at all when she answered. "After what happened at the end of the year, after the Fallen Five, I mean, the Ministry's been leaning on the Prophet to keep certain things quiet, to try and keep the wizarding community calm. But people have a right to be worried, and if I am being truly honest with you, Remus, the news you are referencing should be worrisome for everyone."
"I don't understand." Remus set his tea cup on the small round table between them. "Why would there be a group of werewolves all together? And why would they kill Muggles? Everything I've read says that werewolves are less inclined to attack Muggles, so the fact that three were killed in one city must be some sort of horrible coincidence –"
"It wasn't," she said, turning to look at him now. It was unusual for her to interrupt him like that. "It was a calculated attack."
"But…but why…?"
Romielle surveyed him, as though trying to determine how much she could tell him, or perhaps how much he would be able to handle. "All indications suggest that there is a pack of werewolves who are, at the very least, sympathetic to the anti-Muggle movement."
"At the very least?" he repeated, confused.
"It is possible," she said slowly, "that they have been recruited by Lord Voldemort or his followers as weapons to further his cause. The Muggles were all distant relatives of some fairly prominent Muggle-born witches and wizards."
He stared at her, dumbfounded. As though unable to look at him anymore, she rose from her armchair and went to stand by the window, gazing down at the grounds once more. The sunshine and chirping birds felt oceans away, suddenly. Weapon. His kind being used as weapons to murder Muggles, to bring people in line, to further a movement. Weapon. He felt as if he was choking on the word.
"Professor?" he inquired, when she did not move from her position by the window for an eternal minute.
"It is only conjecture, Remus." Her voice was high-pitched again. "I only tell you so that you are aware, so that you don't hear it from another source. I don't want you to dwell on it."
He remembered the first time he had been in her office, when he had raged about Dumbledore not divulging his role in the Shrieking Shack rumors, when he had sagged under the embarrassment of his own ignorance. He wondered if she had remembered that, as well.
"I'll be leaving soon," she continued, before he had a chance to reply, to thank her for her honesty. "Right after exams. I've been given my next assignment and it will be taking me abroad. I do not think I'll be able to write."
"Oh." He could not think of another response, only of the strange disappointment that he felt at this news.
She turned from the window now and looked at him straight on. "I'm proud to have had the chance to know you, Remus. You are a wonderful wizard, and a better person. Do not let anyone tell you differently, all right?"
"All right," he said, swallowing his discomfort.
She smiled at him, and it may have been the saddest smile he had ever seen.
All three of his friends had been in bad moods all day, and it was making Sirius rather annoyed.
Peter was – for reasons very foreign to Sirius – rather dejected over the birth of his sister. Or, perhaps, it was their general lack of interest in his birthday. More likely it was some combination of both, but the way he had lashed out at James that morning had been startling at first, and then slightly comical. James, though, had not found it remotely amusing; between Peter's disparaging of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and his pointing out that Lily Evans would once again be going to Hogsmeade with Andrew Adamsly, James had been downright irritable since breakfast.
Remus's bad mood was harder to pinpoint. He had seemed slightly perturbed at breakfast, but nothing entirely too concerning. It wasn't until after his private meeting with Professor Romielle during morning break (a situation that still made Sirius shake his head in disgusted wonderment) that Remus had gone quiet. He had barely spoken to any of his friends during lessons or lunch that day and had muttered something about needing to stop by the library before hurrying off after Potions had concluded that afternoon. Sirius had joked to James that perhaps Romielle had turned down a date offer from Remus, but James had barely cracked a smile at the humor. James then went to track down Fiona Beal about the final week of training schedules, which left Peter and Sirius alone packing up their cauldrons until Peter was summoned to McGonagall's office for some reason or another.
And so, Sirius could be found all by himself leaving the dungeons that afternoon, ruminating that the last thing anyone seemed to be in the mood for was a birthday celebration. He took his time navigating the torchlit corridors, as he was really in no hurry to get to dinner and all of his other classmates had already departed for the Great Hall. He would take the long route, wander a secret passage or two, give his friends some time to get to dinner themselves before he showed up…
Or that had been the plan, at least, until he turned a corner and stopped dead at the sight of three people walking toward him.
It was Regulus, walking in stride with Avery and Mulciber.
Regulus faltered a bit when he noticed Sirius standing at the other end of the corridor, but none of the three stopped walking until they were only a few steps from where Sirius stood.
"What are you doing with them?" Sirius asked his little brother.
Avery seemed to relish being discovered with Regulus in tow. He smirked at Sirius. "Where are all your Gryffindor mates, Black? Been ditched?"
Sirius did not even look at Avery, but simply made a rude hand gesture as he stared down his brother and asked once more, "What are you doing with them, Regulus?"
"What's it to you?" asked Regulus, rather defiantly.
Sirius stared. Regulus had never been so outright brash to him before. With a dismissive snort, Sirius shrugged and pushed between the three of them to continue on his way down the corridor. There was no need to show Avery and Mulciber that it bothered him they were hanging around his little brother, and Sirius shouldn't have cared anyway. Not really.
He had just turned the corner into an intersecting corridor when the patter of hurrying feet alerted him to the fact that he was being pursued. Rolling his eyes, he spun around to find Regulus only a few steps behind him. Avery and Mulciber, thankfully, were nowhere to be seen. He turned on his heel and continued walking.
"You're friendly with Avery now, Reg?" Sirius asked without looking at him.
"We're not mates, if that's what you're asking," said Regulus, a step behind him, in a worried tone that hinted at bitterness.
"He's a bastard," Sirius told him. "And Mulciber's twisted, you know that. Stay away from them."
"Sirius, they're not as bad as that, and we were only walking…"
But Sirius stopped at that moment to look his brother full in the face and Regulus nearly ran into him.
"You don't have to be friends with every bleeding Slytherin just because you're in Slytherin, Regulus."
Regulus, though, didn't waver as Sirius had expected him to do. Instead, he raised his chin and narrowed his eyes at his older brother.
"You're one to talk. You don't have to do everything with the Gryffindors, just because you're a bleeding Gryffindor, Sirius!"
Sirius didn't have the faintest clue as to what Regulus was referring. "What are you on about?"
Giving an annoyed huff, Regulus swung his bag off his shoulder and dug through it, eventually extracting a folded piece of parchment, which he thrust into his brother's hand.
"Here, it's for you. From Mother."
Sirius stared down at the parchment, his throat inexplicably dry all of a sudden. "A letter?"
"Giving you permission to go to the Quidditch World Cup with James Potter this summer," Regulus told him, his voice harsh. Two angry little flushes had appeared on his cheekbones. "Apparently, Potter's mum had written to Mother, asking that you be allowed to travel and sit with them. Because Merlin forbid you'd want to do that with me, Sirius. Or am I too Slytherin for you? Was it so bad four years ago when we went? I thought we had fun."
Sirius shook his head again, trying to understand where this all was coming from. He and Regulus barely spoke anymore – why would Regulus care with whom Sirius traveled to the World Cup?
"Yeah, it was a real lark," Sirius said, remembering the match, the festivities surrounding it, remembering his father sitting next to him in a top row box. "A marvelous time until we got home and you and I both got the wand for cheering for Brazil's Muggle-born Seeker, remember?"
"Mudblood Seeker, you mean," Regulus corrected.
Sirius held his angry gaze for a moment before turning his attention to the folded parchment in his hand, which he now flipped open to look at.
"Wait a minute – this is dated last week. Why am I only getting it now?"
"Because I'm not a sodding owl," spat Regulus. He turned on his heel to stalk away, but not before bitterly adding from over his shoulder, "Have fun with James Potter this summer. Maybe I'll see you at some point next year, yeah?"
"Things are a mite different than they were four years ago, Regulus!" Sirius called after him, but Regulus gave no indication that he had heard, and with that, he was gone, leaving Sirius alone in the dimly lit corridor and in a rather bad mood himself, now.
The parchment in his hand drew his attention, but instead of opening it, Sirius looked at his surroundings. He was still in the dungeons, only a few corridors removed from the Slytherin common room. Deciding that this was probably not an optimal place to go about reading a note from his mother, he turned quickly and made his way down the intersecting corridor. Striding briskly to the sixth torch on the right, Sirius took out his wand, tapped the torch bracket once, muttered "Dissendium," and slipped into the doorway that opened in the wall. This secret passage would take him all the way down near the Hufflepuff common room – far away from the Slytherins.
Sirius navigated it slowly, and it wasn't until he was about halfway through that he paused and leaned his back against the stone wall. The letter suddenly felt very heavy in his hand, and he stared at the outside of the folded parchment for a few seconds, not quite understanding the weight in his stomach. The last letter – the only letter – he had ever received from his mother had been the Howler she had sent him on his first day at Hogwarts, which had announced to the entire school that he was an abomination. This one, at least, would have to end better than that.
With this cheery thought, he flipped open the parchment once more, ignored the date from one week prior, and read:
"Sirius,
We have received an owl from Euphemia Potter, requesting our permission that you should once again spend the summer holiday with the Potter family. More particularly, the Potters have indicated that they would happily allow your presence with their family as they travel to the Quidditch World Cup in August.
After much discussion, your father and I have agreed to permit their request. You shall get off the train with James Potter and spend the first month of the holiday with his family. As we shall also be traveling to the World Cup, we have extended an offer to Euphemia and Fleamont Potter to join us for a nightcap following the conclusion of the match. We will discuss with them at that time where you will spend the remainder of your summer holiday.
Walburga Black"
Sirius had to reread the short note several times, and once he was confident he had comprehended it, his first instinct was to laugh bitterly at the idea that his own mother would sign her full name in a letter to her son. But any amusement he had found soon morphed into a horrible dread at the impending meeting between his parents and James's. Sure, he and James now had the first month of the summer holiday together to try and come up with a plan, but there was no getting around the fact that his mother seemed dead set on forming some sort of acquaintance with the Potters, and she would only be held off for so long. Once she discovered that the family bore no ill-will toward Muggles, and even had friendly associations with their Muggle neighbors, Sirius knew that his visits to the Potter household would be strictly forbidden.
Now faced with this unwelcome prospect, Sirius had very little desire to hurry off to the Great Hall to listen to his irritable friends and to try and ignore the fact that Regulus was most likely sitting next to Marshall Avery at the Slytherin table. He crushed the letter in his pocket and then made his way to the far end of the secret passage, climbing out from behind a particularly discolored portrait of Icarus the Ignominious. He wandered the corridors, his thoughts bitterly focused on his parents and Regulus and James and Avery, and without even noticing where he was going, his feet carried him to a large and very familiar painting of a bowl of fruit.
After a quick glance around to ensure he was alone, Sirius tickled the pear, swung open the door handle that had appeared on the portrait, and entered the Hogwarts kitchens.
When he was young, Sirius used to descend the gloomy staircases of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place to hide away in the kitchen pantry, finding a strange peace in being surrounded by the shelves of grains, flour, and tea leaves. It was a place no one would consider looking for him, and as long as he was able to slip past Kreacher's rancorous gaze, he could sequester himself away for an hour or more before having to face his mother and father again. At Hogwarts, he had found a similar sense of comfort in the kitchens, discovering a slew of house elves who would happily tend to him if he desired company, or who would simply ignore his presence if he made clear his need for solitude.
The problem was, someone else had evidently sought a similar atmosphere that evening. It was hard to be too annoyed though, as he was the one who had shown her the kitchens in the first place.
"What are you doing down here?" he asked Gin when he spotted her. She was sitting alone at the end of one of the long tables, and she jumped visibly at his abrupt voice.
"Hello," she said, any trace of her startled expression melting away in a heartbeat. "Just felt the urge for some toffee bars, I guess."
Indeed, when he stepped around to face her straight-on, there was a plate of the house elves' caramel toffee bars in front of her, though it didn't look as if she had taken even a bite.
"It's supper time," he pointed out stupidly.
"Yes," Gin acknowledged. "You've just missed the dishes going upstairs. But it's Thursday."
"And?"
"And these bars are only served upstairs on Tuesdays."
They looked at each other for a moment, but then he shrugged as if she was of no interest to him and walked around the other side of the table directly below the Great Hall's Gryffindor table, hopping over the bench to take a seat. They now sat across from one another, though there were two tables in between them instead of one. She observed him carefully, something like amusement pulling at her lips.
"What?" he asked her, when he noticed her looking at him.
"Am I that appalling to sit near?" she asked, indicating the strangeness of their seating arrangement.
"You're sitting at the Ravenclaw table. Why would I sit at the Ravenclaw table?"
Gin looked around at her surroundings, almost as if she had never noticed that the tables corresponded with the house tables in the Great Hall above them. "Am I?"
He pointed down at his own table. "Gryffindor." Then he indicated the table behind him. "Hufflepuff. The one that side is Slytherin, you can tell by the grease, if nothing else." He finished by pointing right in front of Gin. "Ravenclaw."
She did not appear remotely fazed by this information. "Why does it matter? There's no one here."
"I always knew you should have been a Raver," he joked. "What with the way you've got your face stuck in a book most of the time."
She did not deny it, but smiled and said with her usual knowing gaze, "You cling to it, don't you?"
"What?"
"Being a Gryffindor."
Regulus' words flooded his mind. "You don't have to do everything with the Gryffindors, just because you're a bleeding Gryffindor, Sirius!"
"Damn right," he admitted, rather more seriously than he had intended.
He expected her to continue questioning him, but she did not. After a moment, movement near his right elbow drew his attention, and he looked down to discover a pair of orb-like, cobalt eyes lined with long, curling lashes blinking up at him.
"Hullo, Queenie," Sirius greeted, smiling down at his favorite Hogwarts house elf. "Is that butterbeer you've brought me?"
"Young Master is always liking his butterbeers, yes, sir!" squeaked the tiny elf, presenting a bottle of said drink onto the table in front of Sirius. "Would he also like some supper, sir? Or perhaps skip to pudding? Some toffee bars like Young Mistress, sir?" She indicated the plate in front of Gin, who had been approached by two other house elves and was not now paying Sirius any attention at all.
"Er," said Sirius, distracted for a moment. He wasn't confident he had much of an appetite. "What's for supper, then?"
"Lamb chops, tonight, young sir! But Queenie brings you whatever you is asking for, yes sir."
"Thanks, Queenie. Er…" He glanced again at Gin, but she was still in discussion with the house elves. "That'll be fine. The lamb chops, I mean."
"And some mashed potato, sir?"
"Go on, then," he told the elf, and with a few exuberant flutters of her long lashes, she hurried off to prepare his food.
He took a few sips of his butterbeer as he watched Gin finish her conversation with the two elves, watched as they bowed low to her and disappeared to the other end of the room toward the fireplace. He had no interest in joining her at the Ravenclaw table, and part of him longed for her to disappear, so that he would be alone to watch the house elves' bustling without any additional conflicted feelings taking residence; the other part of him, however, wished she would move from her seat and join him.
"Are they bringing you more food, then?" Sirius asked her after a minute.
"No," she said. "They wanted to, but I'm not so hungry, I don't think."
At this, though, she picked up the fork that had been sitting to her left and poked at the food on the plate in front of her, dividing up the bars neatly but raising nothing to her mouth. He studied her, suddenly interested by the fact that something was clearly bothering her. It was so difficult to read Gin usually, and even though her expression was neutral, he could tell by the tone of her voice that all was not well.
She seemed to notice him watching her, and placed down the fork once more, meeting his gaze. For a moment, he considered asking what was wrong, but then she surprised him.
"Your parents…" she began, and Sirius felt his insides clinch. "I mean to say, have you and your parents always not got on?"
"Yes," he heard himself answer without hesitation. "Since before I can remember. Why?"
"I've never known what it's like, to not agree with my mum."
"Well bully for you," he retorted, wondering why she was telling him this…wondering why she had asked him that and, more importantly, why he had felt so comfortable answering.
She did not falter at his response. For all the reaction she provided, she may not have even heard him across the generous gap of space between them.
"She's a hypocrite," Gin told him, crossing her arms at her wrists and interlocking her fingers. He wondered fleetingly how it didn't hurt her to bend that way.
"So are all parents, I reckon," said Sirius.
"Perhaps." She paused and watched as a group of house elves walked between the two tables, levitating in between them an enormous sack of something that may have been wheat. Once they had passed, she said, "You would know most of the old pureblood families, right?"
He should have been used by now to the oddity inherent in conversing with this girl, with the way the conversation flipped and swerved and twisted without any sort of warning. Still, though, it took him a second to process her question.
"Not personally. I try to stay away from most of them, if I've any say on the matter."
"But you know of them, if not personally?" Sirius shrugged his reluctant assent. "Do you know much of the Cotswolds, then?"
"Cotswold? Heard of them, most likely, but they're not in the high circles, are they? Newer blood, only a few generations back, I'd wager." He frowned, trying to place the name. "There's one of them here, yeah? A girl."
"Karina," acknowledged Gin, untwisting her hands and now running the nail of her index finger along the wood grain of the table in front of her. "Our year. A Hufflepuff, though she acts more like a Slytherin most of the time."
"Well that's a blight to be sure." He thought hard and placed the girl from Herbology. "Dark-haired girl? Hangs round Ev?"
Gin nodded. "And her dad's taken up with my mum, apparently. So they'll be staying with us the summer. I got a letter from my mum this morning."
"Blimey, you don't sound too happy about it."
She sighed and once again plucked up the fork to poke at the toffee bars. "Last time my mum had a bloke stay with us full-time, I was six."
"And?"
"And I hated him so much I trapped him in a vortex of bedding. First time I ever did accidental magic."
Sirius gaped at her. "A vortex of the bedding?"
"It was terrible. Like a tornado of sheets and pillows, and it went on for going on five minutes – none of us could seem to get it to stop. He and my mum laughed about it after, but he never liked me much after that."
"I suppose not," said Sirius, eyebrows raised. "Imagine being swept away in a vortex of bed clothes. Not a very valiant way for a wizard to go out."
One side of Gin's mouth raised in a meager smile. "Well it didn't last long with him and my mum after that. But that's the only time one of her boyfriends has stayed with us. Until now, I guess."
"Well," he began, trying to think of something comforting to say, but he was not very good at these sorts of things. "Your mum could do worse things, than inviting a boyfriend to stay."
She glanced at him, nodded, and then began to study her plate carefully, though she still did not eat. "I suppose."
There was a long pause and then Sirius, his own crumpled letter on his mind, asked, "Will you travel to the World Cup, then?"
She considered it. "This summer?" He nodded. "No, I don't believe so. We've never been, before. I don't follow Quidditch much, and neither does my mum."
He wasn't sure why he felt a flutter of disappointment at this news. It was not as if he would have been spending time with Gin Leigh there, even if she had been in attendance.
"You'll be going, I'd wager then?" she asked him.
He nodded again. "With the Potters. I'll be spending some of the summer with them again, and I'll travel with them." And then something rather foreign in his brain pulled at his lips, and he added before he could quite understand why, "My brother's just told me I've been permitted to go."
It took a moment for his mind to catch up with his words, and he supposed his intention had been to share something with her as some sort of reciprocation for her own divulgence.
"Your brother?" she repeated.
"My mum doesn't send me too many letters," Sirius told her, careful to keep most of the bitterness out of his voice. "Something about my being a monstrous shame on the family name. Or perhaps it's just that parchment tends to go up in flames when she turns her glare upon it. One of the two, I suppose."
Gin did not laugh, but watched him calmly.
"I'm lucky, I know," she said after a moment's contemplation. "And Karina's not too bad."
"And you can survive anything for a summer," Sirius told her, happy that she had turned the conversation back away from him. He thought perhaps this tendency was something he liked about her. "As long as no one sets the bedding on you."
She laughed and they fell into silence. After a minute, Queenie the house elf returned with a plate full of steaming hot food for Sirius, who decided that he was hungry after all. As he took his first bite, he heard Gin ask Queenie to wrap up her plate for her.
"You're not staying?" Sirius asked her, swallowing down a bite of potato.
She shook her head. "I need to write my mum back and get up to the Owlery before curfew."
"All right," he shrugged, unconcerned. They both watched as the elf returned with the bundle of food for her, and Sirius kept his gaze on her as she accepted it and stood, gathering her bag in her other hand.
"Well," she said, and for the first time, there was a hint of awkwardness between them. "See you later, then."
"Yeah. See you."
She was gone a minute later, and Sirius just stared for a moment before remembering his food. The lamb was savory and tender as always, and he scoffed at his previous lack of appetite as he tucked in rather enthusiastically. Only a few bites remained on his plate when his eyes widened with realization and the fork and knife dropped with a loud clang as he dug furiously in his pocket for his mother's letter.
How he had not thought of it before, he did not know, but it had been such a shock to receive the letter that the value of her signature had not even occurred to him. Now, though, he smoothed the crumpled parchment against the table and ran the pad of his finger along her swooping signature at the bottom, his thoughts on the small box that had laid forgotten in his trunk since Christmas and a plan forming so quickly in his head that he laughed out loud, startling a pair of elves who were walking by with large flagons of pumpkin juice.
"Oi! Queenie!" he called. The elf in question had been near the fire on the other side of the cavernous room, but she hurried toward him at once. "I'm going to need some more food, but bundled this time so I can take it upstairs. And make sure to add some of your chocolate eclairs."
"Yes, sir, of course, sir," Queenie said, bowing low. "And would Young Master like some more of his butterbeers as well, sir?"
"No," said Sirius, now feeling giddy and relieved and ready to rejoin his friends. "I think we'll be going for something a bit more festive tonight." He paused, laughed, and then added, "We'll be celebrating, after all."
Weapons. Weapons. Weapons to further his cause.
Remus had been unable to get the word out of his head since his meeting with Professor Romielle that morning, and now that he sat in the fourth-floor secret passageway with little else to occupy his mind, it was circulating through his consciousness like an obsessive mantra. James and Peter were standing nearby, each moving their wands in broad, flourishing figure-eight patterns and reciting a stream of practiced spells, but Remus did not watch them. He stared into the light of one of the flickering torches that adorned the wall across from where he sat, and for the first time that day, he allowed himself to fully think of what Professor Romielle's information meant.
Weapons, she had said. Some werewolves have been recruited by Lord Voldemort or his followers as weapons to further his cause.
It was unfathomable. The precautions he took once a month to ensure the safety of others during his transformation had been ingrained in him since he was young – the ultimate priority in life as a werewolf. To forego those precautions, to allow yourself to be used – manipulated – and to purposefully position yourself among the defenseless to further a madman's agenda was beyond reason, beyond sanity. Remus felt the lamb chops he had eaten at dinner churning unpleasantly in his stomach at the idea of it, but he could not brace his mind against it. The thoughts pealed through his brain, obscuring his vision and his hold on reality.
And then James and Peter were talking and he shook himself.
"Bugger," said Peter, who had become more morose since breakfast, but less confrontational. "What comes after 'essentia' again?"
"'Omnia,'" James told him. "Ego sum essentia omnia…"
"Right right," said Peter, but instead of returning to his practicing stance, he sighed and sat down on one of the squishy pillows across from Remus. "Where is he, anyway?"
"He'll be here," James insisted, and though he would normally have scolded Peter for taking a break so early in their practicing, his interest, too, was not on Animagi transformations that evening. He kept his wand in hand, but began pacing absentmindedly across the corridor and back.
Peter was not so easily convinced. "It's not like him to miss supper, though, and he knew we were going to try to do something tonight…"
"It's not even been a half hour since we talked to him in the mirror," said James, annoyance now pulling at his features. "I'm not going to bother him again. I'm sure we can survive a few more minutes without Sirius's presence."
Peter said nothing, and Remus remained silent as well. If anyone had wondered over Remus's quietness throughout the day, they had not mentioned it to him, for which he was grateful. He did not think he could bear to repeat what Romielle had said about the werewolf attacks, not even to his friends.
After a minute, James ceased his pacing and resumed his attempts at spellwork. Eyes closed, he began once again moving his wand in the broad, looping pattern in front of him and reciting the lengthy incantation until his voice became a pleasant hum. Remus was used to hearing the voices of his three friends muttering the indecipherable words in different rhythms and tones, and it was strangely jarring to sit and watch just one of them attempt it alone. As though he did not possess the energy or the will at that moment to try again, Peter remained sitting, though his focus seemed to be on picking at his thumbnail and not on James.
They stayed like this for several minutes before a faint patter of footsteps echoed down the passageway, breaking their reverie, and James's eyes snapped open at once.
"Finally," he said, as if to himself, and Remus suspected that despite his earlier insistence, James had been more annoyed about Sirius's mysterious absence than he had let on. He waited at least until the dark shape of Sirius's form came into focus down the dimly lit corridor before calling, "Where have you been?"
But Sirius ignored the question. Once he was only steps away, Remus noticed that he was carrying a rather lumpy bag as well as a piece of parchment in his fist that looked as if it had been crumpled into a ball and then smoothed flat again.
"My mother," he said, brandishing the parchment in front of him, "is a proper fucking ice queen, she is."
He shoved the parchment at James, whose brow was furrowed in confusion as his eyes flicked over the page. After a moment, he thrust the parchment at Remus, who did not have a chance to read it before James said excitedly, "You can come! She's giving you permission to come? But –" The other part of the letter, which Remus was only now getting to, seemed to be registering in James's mind, and his face fell. "She'll be meeting with my parents…"
"Or so she thinks," said Sirius, and there was wicked elation on his face as he snatched the letter back from Remus, pointing at the signature at the bottom of the page. "Most mums, when they write their kids at Hogwarts, they sign their letters 'Mum' or 'Mother' or 'Sending all of my love to the most cherished, adored snookums I could have ever wished to be borne of my loins.' But no, not my mother, because as I said, she is a fucking heartless ice queen." He pointed more forcefully at the signature, and though Remus thought it strange, and, indeed, rather cold for a mother to sign her full name in a letter to her fourteen-year-old son, it was consistent with his read on Sirius's mother as a whole.
Peter moved forward to see the letter, and Sirius handed it off to him now to read, though his eyes remained locked with James's, and he still had an unexplainable grin on his face.
"And we're going to use it against her," said Sirius.
"The Duplicator?" asked James, catching on.
"The Duplicator," Sirius confirmed, and as James laughed, Sirius took the letter back from Peter and pocketed it.
"What are you two on about?" asked Peter, looking from one to the other in confusion.
Sirius gleefully threw one arm around Peter's shoulders. "We'll explain later," he told the other boy while his free hand dug through the bag on his shoulder. "But it's not so important now. It's your birthday, and we promised we'd celebrate, and that's what we're bloody well going to do."
From within the bag, he extracted a half-empty bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky and held it in front of Peter's wide eyes. Remus knew that James and Sirius had somehow come into possession of the firewhisky on Boxing Day and that the remainder of the bottle had been stowed in James's school trunk since their return to Hogwarts, and though there had been mentions of drinking it for months, the idea had never solidified into any sort of plan. Neither Remus nor Peter had ever expressed particular interest in trying the drink, but now, the gloomy aura that had been hovering around Peter all day dissipated and was replaced by a look of delighted wonderment.
"You want us to drink it tonight?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the amber liquid in front of him. "To celebrate my birthday?"
Sirius nodded and raised his eyebrows toward James. "What do you say? It's near the end of term, after all, and we best have some fun before exams start, at the least."
"Brilliant," said James. "It's been a blasted bad day for us all. Might as well end it on a high note."
They all turned to Remus now, expecting his standard voice of dissent, or caution at the very least. Remus, though, sick of the dreaded echoes in his own head, wanting nothing more than the blessed distraction of his friends' laughter, decided to throw caution to the wind, as it were.
"Hand it over, then," he said, allowing himself to smile a bit. "Let's get started."
James and Peter let out whoops of delight, and Sirius's grin widened with pride, but he removed his arm from Peter's shoulder and stowed the bottle back in his bag. He moved to stand before the other three and jutted his chin out as though preparing to give a great speech. Clearing his throat, he said in a rather aristocratic voice:
"Lads, tonight the four of us shall embark on a journey to drain this honorable bottle of cherished firewhisky. A dingy secret passage that we spend too much time in already is not the proper environs for such a brave endeavor. We need a more daring location, fit for Marauders, to celebrate the illustrious event of dear Peter Pettigrew's fourteenth natal day. Now, I've got sweets in my bag – eclairs for the birthday boy, of course – and I know just the place…"
"This is mad and…you are mad and…we all are completely mad…"
"You know what they say," said Sirius, as he handed the bottle over to James and then settled his weight back on his elbows, eyes on the clear night sky. "Madness and brilliance aren't so far apart."
"I'm going to die," Peter said with a giggle that entirely counteracted the weight of his words. "My fourteenth birthday, and I've tried my first firewhisky, and I'm going to fall to my death from this ridiculous ledge that I don't even like…"
"Don't take it out on the ledge," tutted Sirius. "The ledge is perfect. The ledge is open and free and ours…"
James laughed and handed the bottle to Remus as he leaned back against the castle wall. "The ledge is a death trap. And I'm not so sure about that ladder you transfigured, either…"
Remus held the bottle in his lap, unsure of whether he was ready for another swig. He had only had three small tastes, and already his face felt unusually warm and his brain felt a heavy sort of languor, though he also felt strangely buoyant and certainly happier than he had been all day. It had perhaps not been the wisest decision, to share a bit of alcohol while perched on the ledge above the boys' dormitory window, where one slipped foot could lead to a grisly, plummeting death, but Remus was, for once, a few steps ahead of his brilliant friends.
It had been sneaky and unlike him to undermine his friends, but his concern for their safety had won out over his blind loyalty to Sirius and James's sense of daring. Plus, he had reasoned to himself, if they didn't know that a Cushioning Charm had been cast and intermittently recast just below the boys' dormitory window – so that the ten-story drop would now be only about ten feet – their desire for risk-taking would be in no way compromised. Or at least that's what Remus had told himself when he had first plucked up the courage to cast it back in October. And though Remus had never told any of his friends about his subterfuge, it made his forced visits to the perilous stone slab exponentially less daunting.
"You're not going to die," he whispered out of the side of his mouth to Peter while James and Sirius bickered lightly. "None of us would fall too far if we fell. I've made sure of it."
Peter looked at him with wide eyes and cheeks pink from the drink and wind, and he appeared as if he was going to say something but then thought better of it. He nodded, trusting Remus's word, and expelled a relieved stream of breath before turning his attention back to James and Sirius.
"…didn't say it was more dangerous than Quidditch, but we're probably just as high, if not higher, and it's more likely one of us takes a fall and plummets headfirst over the precipice…"
"We might be a tidge higher than the Quidditch hoops, I'll grant you, but we haven't got Bludgers flying round with the sole purpose of knocking us from this ledge, now have we? Quidditch is much, much more dangerous than having a nip of firewhisky on this preposterous ledge…"
"What did I say about slandering the ledge?" Sirius huffed, before taking his eyes from the sky to look over at James with dry amusement on his face. "You're rather touchy about Quidditch today. It's not as if I said Gryffindor's got a shit team like Peter here –"
"Oh, let's not bring that up again," moaned Peter. "I didn't mean…I shouldn't have said…"
"No," said James, heaving a big sigh. He reached across Peter to pluck the bottle from Remus's fingers, even though Remus had not yet taken another sip, for which Remus was rather grateful. "We're not a good team, at any rate."
"You're not, you know, shit, though," Remus offered, the alcohol in his system propelling the foul language out of his mouth without even a warmth under his collar. "You beat Ravenclaw."
"Six clabberts and a well-intentioned caipora could beat Ravenclaw this year," said James.
"Is there such a thing as a well-intentioned caipora?" mused Remus.
"Not any of the ones we've met, at least," said Sirius, and even in the darkness, Remus could see the mischievous grin that emerged on his friend's face at the memory of their disastrous Halloween prank.
James did not appear to be listening. "It's the Captaincy," he said, lolling his head around on his neck as if he had a crick in it. "Beal's been distracted by N.E.W.T.s all year. A focused Captain's one of the most – what's the word – under…underrated aspects of a successful slide. I mean, a succlessful side." He paused, and held the bottle up in front of his spectacles, examining the volume remaining through the glass. It seemed he was satisfied with the amount left in there – about two-fingers' worth – for he took a quick swig and handed it off to Peter. Then, as if as an afterthought, he added, "Beating's been shit, though."
"Peakes s'not so bad, though," countered Sirius idly.
"S'not so bad," conceded James. "But not Adamsly. Too distracted. You can't go round with your arm thrown across Evans' shoulders all the time acting like…like everything is sunshine and rainbows when you've been letting the team down on the pitch. S'not right."
Perhaps Remus would not have had the courage to say it if it were not for the warmth of the alcohol on his tongue, but before he could stop himself, he heard the words tumbling from his mouth. "I don't reckon it's that he's distracted that bothers you. Reckon it's who he's distracted by."
Sirius let out a snort of a laugh and Remus felt Peter stiffen next to him at the words. Ribbing James about his heretofore unconfessed feelings for Lily Evans was territory that Sirius usually occupied alone. He expected James to vehemently deny any such thing, as was his standard. Even while tailing Lily and Andrew through Hogsmeade the previous month, James had refused to acknowledge the rather obvious reason behind his interest. And though Remus was certainly not any sort of expert in ways of the heart, even he had been able to suss out James's feelings for Lily long ago.
For goodness sake, even Peter knew.
But the firewhisky within him seemed to have emboldened James, or else given him the sense that he no longer had to hide what all of them already knew anyway.
"She's bloody perfect, Evans," he sighed, his gaze skyward. "I think I might fancy her just a bit."
Peter, who most unfortunately had been mid-sip, sputtered and coughed while Sirius gave a great whoop of laughter. Even Remus found himself smiling at his friend's notion that this was some profound proclamation.
"Just a bit?" shouted Sirius between laughs. He sat up fully now, and despite the Cushioning Charm below them, Remus felt a nervous dread that Sirius might simply fall backward off of the stone edge. The other boy seemed to feel no such anxiousness, though, as he was delighting in James's long-awaited admission.
"Oi! Snivellus!" he continued in a theatric voice, gesturing to the empty space in front of him. "Think a bath might do you just a bit of good now and again? And Narcissa, dear – I reckon that stick's just a bit too far up your arse, yeah?"
Where the drink had turned James starry-eyed, it had made Sirius louder than usual, and Remus was suddenly grateful that they had done a cursory check that all the nearby dormitory windows were closed tightly. Even over the hum of the night and rush of the wind, Sirius's voice carried. They were all laughing now, even James, and Sirius continued his one-man drama.
"Why, Mrs. Black, how lovely to see you! Have you somehow b'come even more of a twisted, spiteful hag since we last spoke? Just a bit!"
To all their surprise, Peter was the first to join in, and he did so through wheezy giggles. "Think McGonagall likes things structured and…and…orderly?" Sirius gave a laugh and they said in unison, "Just a bit!"
"Think Mr. Filch'd like to see all four of us strung up by our toes and left for dead?" added Remus, and all three of Sirius, Peter and him answered together, "Just a bit!"
"All right, all right," said James, showing his palms in admission of defeat. "I get it. Don't wet yourselves, now."
"Just a bit," repeated Sirius once more in amused disbelief. To Remus's relief, he scooted toward the rest of them and shoved himself between James and Peter so they were now all four in a line, their backs against the castle wall. "You've been gagging over Evans for ages, mate."
Peter tipped the bottle toward Remus, who took the smallest sip he could and fought not to cough against the burning in his throat. Hoping his friends would not notice how little he had consumed, he passed what remained back over to Sirius, who did not seem to be noticing much of anything at the moment.
"Well she's bloody well perfect, in'nt she?" James was saying. "'ve never met a girl who'll fight with you like Evans will. She stands up for it, she does."
"And she's ace at Arcana, don't forget," added Sirius, laughing. "Third-year girl winning the house-wide tournament is just a bit impressive…"
"Forty-two Galleons, she won," said James. "Think what we could have done with tha' gold."
Sirius scoffed. "As if you need more pocket money."
"How many Dungbombs can you buy with forty-two Galleons?" Peter asked.
"They're ten to four Sickles," said James, swiping the bottle from Sirius and taking another sip. He shuddered only slightly at the fiery taste.
"So thats…er, well…seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, so…"
They all pondered this for a moment and then, as one, Peter, James and Sirius looked over at Remus as if he would have the answer. Remus, his brain feeling foggy, just shrugged good-naturedly and said, "Search me. I'm not the one good at Muggle maths. That was Lily, remember?"
There was some laughter at this, but Sirius plucked the bottle from James's fingers and held it up in front of them all, tilting it this way and that to assess how much liquid was left in the bottom. It was hardly more than a swig.
"Well," he said, heaving a hearty sigh. "I reckon the last sip must go to the birthday boy, eh, Peter?"
"R-really?" said Peter, his wide eyes trained on the bottle held in front of him.
"S'only fitting," James nodded.
"Cheers to fourteen, mate," said Sirius, handing the bottle over.
Peter grinned and drained the remaining alcohol, his distaste only evident for a second in the wince of his eyes. As he set the empty bottle down in front of their outstretched feet, Remus added, "Happy birthday, Peter."
"Hope it hasn' been so bad as you thought so," said James.
"It's been not so bad," Peter said, though the bright smile on his face betrayed the casual nonchalance of his words. "Better than going home, at any rate. That's what McGonagall wanted with me after Potions."
"She wanted you to go home?"
"No, but my mum had sent an owl, requesting they let me go home for a night to meet the new…the new baby." His expression turned sour. "I'll meet her in, what, two weeks, don't know why my mum's got it in her head that I need to leave Hogwarts to meet her now. So I said no, said I had too much studying to do for exams."
Both Sirius and James found this rather funny, though the thought that they were missing an entire night of exam preparation made Remus's stomach squirm slightly. But only just slightly.
Sirius tossed a casual arm around Peter's shoulder again. "Well look at it this way. We're studying for our Astronomy exam right now. See?" He pointed up at the star-speckled sky and adopted a stuffy voice. "Mercury's in retrograde, and there's a new moon tonight –"
"Tomorrow," Remus corrected him.
"Right – new moon's tomorrow, and Polaris's straight over there –"
James, too, pointed toward the sky. "And Uranus's right on top of Sirius, there –"
They all laughed again, as Sirius swung his arm back from around Peter to punch at James, who snorted and kicked out at his leg. Most unfortunately, Sirius twisted his own leg to avoid the blow and, with a wayward toe, knocked the empty glass bottle from its spot in front of them. As if in slow motion, the bottle rolled over the edge of the stone perch and disappeared into the night.
Both Sirius and James swore as they all scrambled onto their knees and crawled toward the precipice, peering down over the ledge at the plummeting drop below them.
"What the…"
The bottle, though, had not fallen naturally and shattered on the inky ground hundreds of meters below them; instead, it hung suspended in the air just below the boys' dormitory window.
"Er," said Remus, scooting back once more and trying desperately to think of an excuse for the perceived phenomenon of the floating bottle. "Well, that's…er…"
The others were looking at him now, mouths agape, and Remus suddenly did not have the energy to try to think of any sort of cover-up.
"Oh – sod it – it's a Cushioning Charm. I…I cast a Cushioning Charm so none of us'd meet our ends falling from this absurd ledge."
Sirius began ranting once more under his breath about their collective disrespect for the ledge, but James ignored him and, incredulous, asked Remus, "A Cushioning Charm?"
"Y-yes."
"…a bit of fresh air, now and again, you think you'd be grateful…"
They continued to ignore Sirius. James's gawping expression was almost comical, and Remus fought a strange urge to laugh.
"When'd you do that?"
"…nobody else at Hogwarts thinking to use the roof as their own…"
Grateful for the darkness to cover his flush – not to mention the drink within him for his boldness – he shrugged innocently. "October or so."
"October?"
"…call yourselves Marauders, and can't even stomach a bit of a risk – wait –" Sirius seemed to have just processed the conversation taking place around him. "October? This bloody charm's been in place since October?"
Remus winced, but, again, fought back a laugh. "Er – yes? I mean, I've had to reinforce it loads of times, but…well, yes."
"S'there you go, mate," laughed James, scooting back over to retake his position against the wall. "S'not been so risky up here after all."
Sirius looked mutinous for a moment, and then at once his expression morphed into glee. "So does that mean I can jump?"
"Wha– No!"
James leaned forward and grabbed a hold of Sirius's shirtsleeve, pulling him back against the wall next to him. "You're not jumping off the sodding building, you great dolt," he said as they all resumed their places in the row.
"Just saying," shrugged Sirius, but he did not seem remotely fazed to have been thwarted. "If the charm's that good and all…"
"Completely mental," muttered James.
There was a pause in conversation, and Remus wondered if, like him, his friends were beginning to feel a heavy fatigue borne of the events of the day. For the briefest of moments, he thought again of his conversation with Professor Romielle ("Weapons…") but he pushed it from his mind. His friends, as always, had succeeded in distracting him from his private horrors, from the terrible voice in his head. The firewhisky had not been too bad, but Remus knew that he hadn't needed anything else to make him feel lighter again – James, Sirius and Peter had always, always been his relief, their laughter his escape.
"S'been a good year, I'd say. Third year, I mean," James was saying, and the randomness struck Remus as funny, but no one else was laughing.
"It's not over yet," Peter pointed out.
"Yeah, but nothing fun ever happens during exam weeks anyway –"
"There's still the last Quidditch match…"
"Which we might win," shrugged James. "But either way, we won't win the Cup."
"S'always next year," said Sirius, his eyes on the stars and his voice idle.
James raised his fist in the air, as if holding an invisible goblet. "To third year!" he cried.
"Hear, hear!" echoed Peter, his hand imitating James's.
Remus laughed and, feeling surprisingly un-foolish, did the same. "Cheers."
Sirius, though, did not raise his arm when he joined in. "To the summer," he said. "And to outwitting my mother."
"To the World Cup!" James shouted.
Now, Sirius lifted his hand and mimed a toast to all three of them. "To fourth year, and all the adventures it'll bring."