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Chapter Text

Remus didn't mean to listen. He just didn't know how to stop once he'd started. Besides, the things the old man with the beard was saying were far too interesting for Remus to pull his ear away from the door now. The Lupins’ house was always quiet, which only made eavesdropping far easier.

As they were finishing their dinner that evening, the mysterious man knocked at the door. Remus had not heard him walking on the gravel path up to their cottage, but he hadn’t had time to question. The man did not introduce himself, for Remus’ father seemed to know him already. Perhaps the man was a doctor, though doctors rarely made house calls anymore. Remus had been ushered away into his bedroom immediately, even though it was barely eight o’clock.

The man was impossibly old, with a long white beard that seemed never ending. His robes –for that was all his strange garments could be described as– were of the deepest purple colour. Remus had never seen a boy wearing purple before. The man wore glasses with crescent-moon shaped lenses, settled on the bridge of his sharp nose. Remus tried to picture how the flickering lamp in the kitchen would hit the glass as the strange man talked to his father.

“Lyall, I understand your reservations, but–”

“Professor, if you truly understood, you would not be here now!”

Remus had never heard his father yell before. Lyall Lupin was an altogether unassuming man who preferred a hard stare to the usual forms of discipline. Sometimes, Remus wondered if his father would yell at him if his mother was around, if he would take on that role and give the glares to the second parent. Remus did not ask his father such questions.

The door creaked as Remus leant on it, the wood just a little too soft. He held his breath, freezing. Yet his father continued yelling at the old man, who remained surprisingly calm.

“Magic is important,” the old man said calmly.

Magic. Remus had heard about magic the same way most children heard about God: from fables and tales, through doors that weren’t meant to be open, and in whispered voices. He knew he believed in magic, for there was simply no other explanation for what happened to him each month. Remus hated magic. It tore his flesh open and left scarlet scars behind. It cracked and pulled at his bones. It meant he had to be locked in the silver-plated shed once a month, howling and scaring all the sheep on the Welsh hills. His father seemed to hate magic too.

“Important,” Lyall muttered bitterly. “Magic ruined my life! Magic is the reason my son suffers every month! Magic is the reason my wife left! Did you know that, Professor?”

“I did not,” the old man said in a solemn voice. “And after all this time, I believe you may call me Albus, or Dumbledore at least–”

“That’s not fucking important!”

If he had never heard his father yell, you can most certainly believe that Remus had never heard his father swear. Swearing was reserved for the huddles of teenage boys in the park, or the portly men down the village pub. Swearing was not something Lyall Lupin ever did, not even when he burned himself on the kettle. Hearing such rage flow from his father’s mouth rattled Remus, even through the door. More than that, his father’s words brought back Remus’ least favourite thought.

He was the reason his mother left.

Remus was certain that, if he was a normal boy, his mother would still be around. He could barely remember her, but there always seemed to be a Hope Lupin shaped hole in his life. He had no one to make a Mother’s Day card for in primary school; they had laughed when he made one for his dad instead. The fact that you don’t have to make Mother’s Day cards once you got older was one of the only reasons he was excited to go to the local secondary school.

Pressing his ear against the door, Remus continued to listen to his father’s irate ramblings. Each word added another writhing snake to the pit in his stomach.

“Hope couldn’t stand looking after a werewolf son, so she left! She packed her bags on a full moon when he was in that stupid cage we used to put him in, and she left us! She didn’t even say goodbye to Remus, he… he was only five, he didn’t understand. So, Dumbledore, I moved us out to fucking Wales and I built us a life without magic. I don’t work for the Ministry anymore, I don’t even use magic to make my tea because I am making a better life for my boy. As good as it can be when I’ve already ruined it for him.”

“You haven’t ruined the boy’s life,” Dumbledore said. “But keeping him away from magic won’t do him any good. He needs to learn how to control his magic before something bad occurs, an accident perhaps. Or worse, he could become an Obscurial–”

“That won’t happen.”

The traitorous door chose that moment to swing open, sending Remus tumbling onto the stone kitchen floor. He scrambled to his feet, preparing himself to be on the receiving end of his father’s newfound anger. He got the hard stare instead, but it still made his gut twist. Remus’ father guided him to sit down at the kitchen table, his thick brows knitted together. Looking up, Remus swallowed thickly as his father and the old man stood over him.

“I trust you heard a lot of what we were saying,” Lyall said, folding his arms.

“Sorry!” Remus squeaked, his voice tinged with the kind of Welsh accent his father was yet to pick up. “I really didn’t mean to, Dad, I swear!”

“It’s alright, son.” A brief pause as his father eyed the old man. “But I think you ought to listen to what Professor Dumbledore here has to say to you. Because, at the moment, I’m considering his ridiculous offer.”

Remus’ eyes flicked over to the old man, who nodded solemnly.

“I work for a school called Hogwarts,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “It is a school for young witches and wizards such as yourself. We would like you to join us this September, if your father assents.”

“You know I’m a freak, right?” Remus muttered, cringing when his father sighed.

“You are not a freak, Remus,” Dumbledore remarked. “What you are is a lycanthrope, a werewolf, and we are very much aware of your condition. Preparations are already in motion to ensure the safety of you and your fellow students, and of course, secrecy.”

“The other kids wouldn’t know?” Lyall interjected, brow furrowed deeply.

“Not unless Remus elects to inform them himself.”

“Then it’s your choice, son.”

Their eyes fell on Remus. He ran over his options in his head. He could decline and attend his local secondary school with the same kids he’d known since he was five, or he could go to Hogwarts. A school for people like him. He found himself nodding.

“I want to go to magic school.”

Chapter Text

Sirius already knew what to wear and what to say and how to smile the right way. He just didn’t know if he really meant any of it. Staring at himself in his Hogwarts uniform, he wasn’t sure that this was who he wanted to be. Sirius Orion Black, Heir to the Noble House of Black.

The uniform was too starchy. He suspected Kreacher had done it on purpose, for that house elf truly hated him. Mother had insisted that Sirius arrive at the platform already dressed, emphasising the vulgarity of simply changing your clothes in public where there could be mudbloods roaming about. Sirius wished he could’ve skipped out on wearing it altogether.

The cloak was inky black, weighing him down like a stack of bricks. His white shirt and grey trousers scraped against his skin, and he just knew he would be all itchy in a matter of minutes. The shiny black shoes Mother had bought from Diagon Alley were just a little too big, but she hadn’t listened when he told her that. They were smart shoes, she’d said, fit for the Heir. Only, Sirius wasn’t sure if that title suited him at all.

He flopped down onto his ornate four poster bed, his back hitting the luxurious covers with a soft thump. Staring up at the ceiling, his eyes traced the deep green paint that covered it, as well as every wall in his bedroom. The Noble House of Black didn’t do subtlety. Like his room suggested, Sirius would be a Slytherin once he arrived at Hogwarts that evening, just like every other Black going back centuries. You’d think it was millennia from the way his parents spoke of the tradition, as though they could control it.

Sirius’ entire life had been planned out for him. He would attend Hogwarts as part of Slytherin house, get the best grades in his OWLs and NEWTs, then marry some pureblood woman and continue the line of the Noble House of Black. He was fairly certain that said pureblood woman would be his snotty cousin Narcissa. Her elders sisters were already spoken for, though Sirius wouldn’t have wanted to marry Bellatrix. She was altogether horrifying and Sirius still shuddered whenever he remembered how she’d cursed him when he was six to hang upside down from the ceiling and wouldn’t let him down until he apologised 100 times for interrupting her gossip session with her stupid friend Rita.

“Are you ready– Sirius Orion Black!” screeched the shrill voice of Sirius’ mother.

Walburga Black was a severe woman, in every sense of the word. Sirius bolted up as she entered his bedroom, smoothing the back of his cropped black hair. His mother was wearing one of her finest gowns to escort him to King’s Cross, never once missing out on an opportunity to look down on the mudbloods and Muggles. Her beady eyes raked over his body.

“You have wrinkled your uniform,” she scowled.

Sirius couldn’t help but flinch as she pulled her wand from the folds of her dress, earning another scoff. She mumbled some incantation as she waved the wand, causing Sirius’ clothes to straighten themselves as though they had just been ironed. The only indication that she was satisfied was a quiet hum before she turned to leave, knowing he would follow right after her.

For some reason, he didn’t. He just stood in the doorway of his bedroom, frozen still until he heard the next door open. It was his little brother’s bedroom door. Sure enough, Regulus’ face appeared, poking out into the hallway. Sirius felt a smile on his face. He was only one year older than his brother, and they were more like twins than simply brothers.

They looked rather similar. The same short black hair, the same blue eyes that were far rounder than their parents’, their pale skin. But their mannerisms were entirely different. Where Sirius had learned when to be loud and when to shut up, Regulus was prone to emotional outbursts. Sirius dreaded leaving him at home for months at a time. It made him feel queasy every time he thought of it.

"Alright, Reg?" asked Sirius.

Regulus walked across the hall, standing directly in front of his brother. The dark bags beneath his eyes echoed the ones beneath Sirius’. Neither brother had had much sleep the previous night. Sirius wondered if Regulus had tossed and turned like he had. He wrapped an arm around his little brother, pulling him into a weak hug. They didn’t really hug very much; it felt strange. Nice, but strange.

"I was not sure if you were gone yet, but I didn't want to sit by my lonesome so I came here."

"You know a lot of big words for a little boy," Sirius laughed.

"Meanie," Regulus stuck his tongue out. “I’m ten.”

They stood there in silence for a while. Silence was rare in the Black family, and it was therefore cherished. Sirius believed that the best times he had with his brother were the loud ones, but Regulus preferred the quieter times. Regulus did not like tumbling about in the garden or trying to sneak over the fence into the streets of Muggle London. They had never actually made it over the wall without getting caught, but the anticipation of what was on the other side only spurred Sirius on more.

"I’ll have my own wand soon, and I'll hex you," muttered Regulus, his little voice growing thick. "If you're mean to me or if you don’t write, I'll hex you."

"Not if I hex you first," smirked Sirius, briefly tightening his grip before releasing his little brother. “I have to go now, Mother is waiting.”

Regulus wiped his nose, sniffling. Sirius hoped he wouldn’t cry, he taught him not to cry when either of their parents could hear. Luckily, the younger Black took a deep breath and managed to hold it in. Sirius squeezed his shoulder before heading down the stairs towards his mother and their house elf. Towards his future

Chapter Text

James had been waiting for this day forever. Now it was here, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. He wanted to hold his parents’ hands and stand in between them as the three Potters walked down the platform, but he wasn’t sure that holding hands with your parents was cool at the grand age of eleven. He would have to ask Marlene; she was his authority on all things cool.

Platform 9 ¾ was bustling with young witches and wizards. James couldn’t help but wonder which one would become his best friend, to which one he would show his father’s prized Invisibility Cloak that currently resided in James’ trunk. He had pinched himself when he had first seen it as his father procured it from the secret safe in his office. James had promised to never use it wisely, swearing to at least prank Dumbledore once as payback for the detention the headmaster gave Fleamont Potter that led to him falling in love with James’ mother Euphemia. It was James’ favourite bedtime story as a child, and he’d begged to hear it each night. He didn’t do that now, because he was eleven and therefore an adult.

Clutching his mother’s hand and deciding it wasn’t embarrassing afterall, James followed his father down the platform, unable to stop a wide smile from spreading across his face. The Hogwarts Express tooted its horn to the giggles of first years and seventh years alike. James could already see students on the train, sitting in compartments with their best of friends. He squeezed his mother’s hand. She squeezed his back. His father looked back at them both with a smile just like his, and James suddenly realised he was going to be very homesick.

He had thought of that before, of course, but he’d been so excited about going to Hogwarts, that he hadn’t really considered just how much he’d miss his family. He wouldn’t be able to crawl into his parents’ bed on those rare occasions where he couldn’t sleep. They wouldn’t be just down the hall. James felt his eyes getting rather warm.

“Oi, Potter!”

James’ head flicked up, his almost-tears giving way to his grin again. Oh, he wasn’t actually going to cry. He’s eleven now! His honey brown eyes darted about the platform, searching for the source of that irritating and familiar voice. When they landed on the messy blonde hair of a girl who was frantically waving her arm at him, James released his mother’s hand and sprinted down the platform. He bumped into Marlene with enough force to send her tumbling back into her father.

“Oh Merlin,” James giggled as he pulled Marlene into a hug and peeked over her shoulder. “Sorry, Mr McKinnon!”

“It’s alright, James,” Marlene’s father said in his thick Irish accent. “I know you’re not really that sorry, you pair of hellions.”

Marlene wriggled her way out of James’ hug, never one for prolonged physical affection. She pushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes, sending it down her back. Marlene had the longest hair of any girl James knew, but she despised it. He wondered how long they would be at Hogwarts before she coerced him into helping her chop it all off. Her mother would be devastated. Marlene likely wouldn’t care.

The Potters and the McKinnons were old family friends, ever since Marlene’s parents had moved into the village near the Potters’ estate. James wasn’t entirely sure why they’d left Ireland, but he’d heard his dad whispering about all sorts of goings on. A few years after the McKinnons had moved, Marlene and James had been born. Along with the McKinnons’ neighbour Peter, a troublesome trio had been born. Their parents could never get them to come inside in the summer, or to climb down from whatever tree they’d scrambled up. Marlene was the best at climbing trees.

“Da, we’re not hellions,” Marlene grumbled, picking up her battered red suitcase. “We’re excited to go to Hogwarts!”

“Really excited,” James echoed with a bright smile. “Me and Marls and Pete, we’re going to rule the school!”

James grinned up at Mr McKinnon as he rolled his eyes with a sigh, turning to busy himself with Marlene’s squabbling little sisters. Marlene had a big family, and James often found himself feeling a little jealous. But he wouldn’t have wanted to share his parents’ attention with five other siblings like Marlene had to. She was right in the middle as well, which was probably why she acted out so much. James had heard Marlene’s mother telling his mother that she hoped Hogwarts would calm her down like it did her older children. Euphemia Potter had laughed, and told her that with James around, nothing was ever calm.

“Come on, Marlene! We ain’t waiting for ya,” grumbled Marlene’s oldest brother, Ronan.

“Lick my boots, ya feckin–”

“Marlene Eimear McKinnon!” Mr McKinnon scowled down at his daughter while her oldest brother looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

Ronan was in his seventh year, and thoroughly snotty. He always shouted at the three of them if they were too loud while he was trying to study or trim his nose hairs or whatever he did. James preferred Marlene’s other older brothers, who were in fifth and third year respectively. Shay was overwhelmingly cool and hadn’t studied for his OWLs once, despite them being this summer. Darragh always bought sweets for James, Marlene and Peter whenever he went to the shops. James was looking forward to going to school with Shay and Darragh. Ronan, not so much.

Hugging his mother and father tightly in a not-at-all-embarrassing group hug, James said his final goodbyes before dashing onto the train with Marlene. Peter was still nowhere to be seen, and James decided to wander up and down the length of the Hogwarts Express while Marlene secured an empty cabin. She could be rather intimidating when she wanted to be, and James didn’t doubt that no one would dare sit there if she set her mind to it.

The Hogwarts Express was surprisingly cosy for such an imposing vehicle. The carpets were plush underneath James’ feet and a sweet smell wafted through the carriages as he searched for Peter. The sound of laughter and enthusiastic chatting could be heard from inside the compartments, and James couldn’t hep but smile. Even as he walked past some girl with platinum blonde hair and a look that said How dare this eleven year old express joy in my presence!, James felt as though this was the start of the best part of his life.

“James!”

Chapter Text

Peter shuffled down the train meekly, preparing a pathetic speech. He couldn’t find James or Marlene anywhere, and the number of empty compartments was rather low. Perhaps he would have to beg some strangers to allow him to sit with them. He’d been on the Hogwarts Express for approximately five minutes, and he was already beginning to hate the idea of going to school. The train hadn’t even left the station yet, he could just hop off– No. Peter was being brave.

Only he didn’t really have to be, because he’d just spotted a familiar black tangle of hair. James was brave for him, and Marlene was even braver, not that Peter would ever tell either of them. He called out to James, just in case it wasn’t actually him, and felt himself smiling as his best friend turned around. They hugged briefly and Peter listened to James ramble as he led him to where Marlene allegedly was.

“Honestly, mate, Ronan was being a right pain again,” James said animatedly, shaking his head. “He kept hurrying us along, like we even wanted to sit next to that oaf! I mean, I wouldn’t say no to sitting next to Shay, because Shay is just so cool. But Ronan? He’s practically a troll! A rulebook kissing troll, that’s what I think.”

Peter rather liked it when James talked a lot. It was like listening to some storyteller or a town crier, heralding the tales of the world. He liked even more when James and Marlene would talk, because that meant he could just sit back and observe his own personal television show, starring his two best friends. Talking was far more stressful, and though neither of them pointed it out, Peter felt as though he always managed to say the wrong thing when he joined the conversation. Listening was better.

James always walked just a little too fast, like he simply didn’t have time to wait even a second. Peter felt slightly out of breath as he hurried behind, still intently listening as James kept chattering. Peter hoped he didn’t look too flushed; he was only walking after all. He was the slowest of the three of them, always taking just a little longer to climb up trees and race across the garden. His mum said he would lose the baby fat soon, and Peter hoped he would be all lean like James.

“Here you are,” Marlene huffed as they entered her compartment. “Took you bloody long enough.”

But she wasn’t alone. Lounging across the bench opposite Marlene was a boy that looked unfamiliar and entirely too relaxed in a compartment full of strangers. He had jet black hair that was cropped and gelled, not messy like James’. No, this boy styled his hair. He was already wearing his robes, and they bore no house emblem. Peter concluded that the boy must be a first year student as well, though he had an air of maturity and self-confidence that Peter was yet to experience. This boy didn’t look older, not exactly; his sharp features were still youthful, but he just seemed as though he had far more experience than even Marlene’s older brothers.

The boy looked up at Peter and James with a lazy smirk. Swinging his legs, he sat up on the seat as though making room for them to sit down. He didn’t seem as though he was planning on leaving.

“I was just keeping your dear friend company,” the boy drawled. “With such a permanent scowl, how was I to know she actually had friends?”

“Because I told you I did, genius,” Marlene huffed, glowering at the boy.

“Well, my kind heart just wouldn’t let me leave a poor, friendless little thing alone,” he countered with a smirk.

Peter didn’t like that one bit. Yes, Marlene was thunderous when she wanted to be, but that was for Peter and James to joke about. Mostly James, in truth. Making fun of Marlene was not something that this boy was allowed to do, in his ridiculously posh accent.

Only, Marlene didn’t seem that angry. She stuck her tongue out at the boy in the way she normally did at James when he teased her or at Peter when he accidentally insulted her. They never really meant it, and he wondered how Marlene knew that the boy wasn’t really making fun of her.

James sat down next to the boy and Peter settled down next to Marlene, who was staring out of the window. Peter would’ve preferred the window seat, but he stayed quiet. Marlene just looked so enthralled by the way the London townhouses gave way to rolling hills and lush green forests. She finally turned her face back as the boy began to introduce himself.

“I’m Sirius, by the way,” he said in his upper-class drawl. “Sirius Black. And I’d prefer it if there were no further comments on that fact.”

“As in the Noble House of Black?” James asked, tilting his head and almost causing his glasses to slip off his nose. “As in Orion Black? You know, my dad said–”

“No further comments,” Sirius repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Now, what are your names?”

“I’m James Potter,” James answered without missing a beat. “This is Marlene McKinnon and Peter Pettigrew, my best friends.”

Sirius arched his eyebrow once more, a habit Peter was beginning to find irritating. He felt a glow of pride as James referred to him as one of his best friends, not that he didn’t already know that. Peter was glad to have two best friends going to Hogwarts with him. Regarding Sirius with what he hoped was a subtle expression of utter bewilderment at how anyone could tell James Potter not to do something and have him listen, Peter decided that Sirius would not be joining their group if he had anything to do with it.

“Fleamont Potter invented Sleakeezy,” Sirius mused, nodding as though he was thinking to himself. “You don’t use your father’s products, do you? That’s a right bird's nest of hair you’ve got.”

“Oh, jog on,” James laughed, but he didn’t look mad. “I put loads of it in, but my hair is Sleakeezy’s number one adversary.”

“It doesn’t help that you’re always tumbling out of some tree,” Marlene interjected with a grin. “Or flying your broom into one!”

“That was one time!”

Peter sat back and listened to his two best friends squabble. Only Sirius kept joining in, and it wasn’t nice to listen at all. Sirius hadn’t been there when James was testing out his new broom and accidentally flew it into the tall tree at the back of the Potter Estate, but he was laughing along with them like he had been. Peter didn’t like that at all.

Chapter Text

He really couldn’t hide in the bathroom much longer. Remus had told himself that he only went in there to change into his uniform, but he was dressed now and he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He’d put the toilet lid down and used it as a makeshift chair while he tried to will himself to stand up and exit the bathroom. His legs just wouldn’t listen.

There was probably a line outside the door now, and he didn’t want to face that. The main thing he was afraid of was finding a compartment. He hadn’t actually been on a train before, having never left his village in Wales since they moved there. He’d been stunned to realise they had rooms on them, small compartments with chairs. The train he’d travelled in down to London the previous night had even had beds. Finding a compartment then had been stress free; his father simply chose one and Remus followed behind.

Finding a compartment on the Hogwarts Express was an entirely different story. He would have to speak to strangers, to ask them if they’d mind if he intruded on their space and already formed friendship dynamics. Remus felt almost sick at the thought. Even worse, he was certain that one of the students he approached would notice the scars hiding beneath his uniform, like the one from two full moons ago that slashed down the side of his neck in deep red against his skin. They never faded, and he knew they were different. If he scraped his knee or got a papercut, the skin healed right over. The scars from his transformations didn’t change one bit, never even fading to pink.

Remus pulled his knees up to his chest as he continued to sit on the toilet. What if he didn’t leave the bathroom? He wondered if anyone would come looking, or if he could just wait until the train returned to Kings Cross. His father would still be in London for another few days. Remus could go to him and they could both pretend that magic didn’t exist. It would be rather difficult each time the full moon came about, but they would manage.

Why had he even wanted to come to Hogwarts in the first place? Dumbledore had practically coerced him, forced him to leave his nice, comforting village back home– Remus cut off his mind’s ridiculous spiral. He didn’t much like his home village anyway, and no one had forced him to come to Hogwarts. He had put himself in this ridiculous mess, and now he was in the bathroom, having to deal with it.

“Come out!” came a nasal voice from outside the cubicle. “Some of us need to relieve ourselves!”

There were three sharp bangs on the bathroom door. Smoothing his robes, Remus stood up and took a deep breath. Only that didn’t really calm him down, so he took another deep breath and decided that whole deep breathing thing was a sham. He pushed open the door, expecting some intimidating seventh year who might push his head down the toilet.

Instead, he found himself looking down at a boy with pallid skin and long black hair. Remus was looking down at the boy, which was ridiculous because Remus wasn’t exactly tall. This boy was pathetic, and Remus thought about heading back into the bathroom and closing the door in his face. But that would be petty, and he didn’t fancy making too many enemies yet.

He stepped aside, gesturing for the boy to enter. Remus looked over the visible grease in his hair, feeling both repulsed and strangely happy that his immediate irritation towards this boy was vaguely valid. He was a snotty little thing, and Remus hoped the boy was going to hide in the toilet because he also didn’t have friends.

They engaged in an awkward sort of staring match as the boy moved towards the toilet, making Remus resoundingly uncomfortable. But the train wasn’t wide enough for him to slip past just yet, so he was stuck there, glaring at a stranger trying to use the toilet. The boy scoffed as he moved past him, and Remus really couldn’t help himself.

“Go on then, slimy. Take your fat shit.”

So much for not making enemies yet. Remus walked away down the train, suppressing a smirk as he heard the boy’s surprised gasp. Perhaps magical folk didn’t really talk like that, but he’d heard far worse from four year olds back home. With the smallest amount of confidence that he didn't think would last that long, he searched for an empty compartment or at least one that contained kids his age.

***

He had chosen the wrong compartment. After milling past groups of older kids, he could only seem to find girls that were his age. While Remus had no massive problem with girls, he often found them more threatening than the boys and didn’t feel as though he wanted that kind of stress right now. So, when he came upon a compartment with three boys and one girl in it (for the compartments could hold six seventh years or at least eight tiny first years), Remus had shyly asked if he could sit there. They had allowed him to join them, but it had not been a good choice.

They were overwhelmingly silent, staring down at their books as though their lives depended on it. The redhead girl – her name had been Lucy, or Libby, or something like that – had attempted to talk to Remus once, but fallen silent at a glare from a round looking boy. Lily, yes that was her name, seemed awfully uncomfortable in the compartment.

She looked very much like a girl, which shouldn’t have really been that surprising but it was a stark contrast to the severe looking companions in the compartment. Lily’s every feature was soft, her cheeks round with that childlike adorability that the old biddies in his home village would’ve cooed over. She even had little pink ribbons at the end of her ginger pigtails, which Remus thought suited her. Not that he really had an opinion on fashion; his uniform already looked creased and crumpled from hiding in the bathroom.

Remus’ eyes flicked up from the floor as he felt Lily relax next to him. She had been entirely too tense the entire time, her back pin straight. She was relaxed now, a smile on her face. Remus’ gaze landed on a boy with long black hair and a perpetual sneer. The very same boy he’d called slimy mere minutes ago. This was going to be a little bit awkward, he thought. When the boy noticed Remus, his sneer turned into a scowl.

“What is he doing here?” grumbled the boy, turning his scowl towards Lily. Remus didn’t like that.

“This is Remus,” Lily answered chirpily, not quite noticing the tension in the air. “He just came to sit with us and–”

“Well, he can’t,” huffed the boy as he sat down next to Lily.

Lily looked over at Remus with confusion, as though she couldn’t believe her precious friend would hold a grudge against someone for simply, politely, kindly instructing him to take a shit. Remus wondered if the boy would inform Lily of their lovely interaction.

The boy continued to glare at Remus, who just shrugged, standing up and grabbing his suitcase. It really wasn’t worth the effort. Arguing was tiresome for Remus, and arguing with someone so objectively frustrating would not be a good start to the new school year. The boy seemed far too satisfied at Remus’ acquiescence, and he just couldn’t help himself.

“Didn’t want to sit in your compartment anyway, you greasy git,” he grumbled as he exited. “I’ve just washed my hair.”

He really needed to try harder to make some friends. His father always told him that while Remus was an overall temperate child, it was his mouth that got him into trouble. Teachers at his primary school had been frustrated each time Remus mumbled a correction or comment underneath his breath. Usually, he was good at making it just quiet enough to be generally inaudible. But he’d wanted that boy to hear what he thought of him.

As he wandered down the length of the Hogwarts Express once more, Remus began to consider his plan of hiding in the bathroom until the train returned to London. It was looking more and more tempting by the minute.

Remus felt his cheeks turn slightly pink as he registered that he was walking past the same compartments he had already passed twice. Once again, the evil looking girl with the platinum blonde hair sneered at him through the doorway of their compartment, before promptly shutting it. The train hadn’t even reached the school yet, and everyone would already think he was a friendless loser. He supposed he was.

He had friends at home, he guessed, friends that he played rugby with at lunchtimes and let copy his work in lessons. But Remus had never experienced true friendship, the kind you read about or watched in films. He had never had the inclination to go over to a friend’s house for tea or to throw a birthday party. Remus preferred eating tea with his father, in their own house. Besides, the children at his primary school had been rather dull, all liking the same things.

Perhaps Hogwarts would be the same. All of the young wizards would like a magical version of rugby and all the young witches would like magical hopscotch. Remus hoped not. Variety was the spice of life after all. He thought to himself that he really sounded quite cynical for an eleven year old, and that he had managed to walk all the way to the end of the train and halfway back up without noticing.

“Do you want to sit here, or do you fancy wandering around a bit more?”

The sound of a jovial voice called Remus to look up. When he caught a glimpse of pale skin and black hair, he almost frowned. But this wasn’t the same boy, no, this boy’s hair was cropped short to his scalp and he didn’t look greasy or slimy at all. He was also grinning at Remus, while his friends smiled sheepishly behind him

“Don’t say that, Sirius,” said an Indian boy with glasses next to him. “Maybe he’s constipated.”

“Why would he be constipated?” exclaimed a blonde girl through giggles.

“I heard walking around helps!”

Grateful for the chaos, Remus managed to sit down in the compartment without anyone mentioning it. They just continued their squabbling conversation, and there were no stiff backs or stern frowns. This time, Remus had chosen the right compartment.

Chapter Text

His father would not be proud of him. The train hadn’t even reached Hogwarts yet, and Sirius already knew he had let the Noble House of Black down. He was sitting with a Potter, a Pettigrew, a McKinnon, and a boy that Sirius was beginning to realise had never known magic a day in his life. That was perhaps the worst offense, though sitting with the others wasn’t much better. To the Noble House of Black, their families weren’t real purebloods like those in the Sacred Twenty Eight were, and Sirius should absolutely not be sitting with them.

That was what made it so much better. Sirius had received his first taste of freedom, and he was hooked. Despite a brief run in with his dear cousin Narcissa as he boarded the train, there was no one to stop Sirius from doing as he pleased. He felt a sort of guilty pleasure as he chatted with his new companions, like one of his relatives might jump out at any minute to scold him and drag him back home.

Or worse, to Beauxbatons. Sirius’ mother Walburga had gone there, as she hailed from France, and it was the Black family’s ultimate threat. When Andromeda had first been caught with her Muggle-born boyfriend Ted, she had been sent to Beauxbatons for a term in her sixth year. It had thoroughly traumatised her, being in a different country with no way to communicate with home because they’d taken her owl. This punishment hadn’t really worked, because she was married to Ted now. While Sirius enjoyed being able to speak French, he wished to avoid his mother’s home country for as long as he could. He would look simply ridiculous in that blue uniform.

Sirius loosened his tie a little, allowing himself to breathe. Kreacher really had it out for him with how starchy his uniform was. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Sirius caught the scent of something sugary and rich, accompanied by the sound of squeaking wheels. It took a moment before an old woman appeared with a trolley full of sweets, sweets that Sirius had rarely even seen before. Andromeda used to sneak a couple of treats into his pocket at Christmas or birthdays, but he’d never seen this many sweets in one place.

Peter sat up straighter immediately, and Sirius almost wanted to make a scathing comment. His mother would never allow him to get so fat. But, he held himself back. That wasn’t his voice, no that was his mother’s, ingrained in his mind. Peter really wasn’t all that fat, and he hadn’t even said anything to make Sirius dislike him. Besides, Sirius had sat up straighter when he saw the trolley too, and the McKinnon girl was already rummaging in her pocket. Sirius resolved to be a little nicer to Peter.

“Anything from the trolley, my dears?” the woman asked, hunched over her trolley like a dragon over its horde of treasure.

“I’ll have three boxes of Fizzing Whizzbees, please,” James exclaimed, practically throwing the silver Sickles in his hand. “No, no! I’ll have five! Please.”

The woman chuckled lightly as she gave James his sweets. He immediately began tucking into one box, while trying to stash the rest into his trunk with the other hand, an entertaining sight. Peter bought some Liquorice Wands, Marlene bought a Pumpkin Pasty, and Sirius bought one of everything, which was an entirely irresponsible use of the money his mother had given him. When it came to Remus' turn, he looked absolutely baffled. The old lady blinked at him expectantly, and Sirius watched as the apples of his cheeks turned pink.

“I…” Remus began, swallowing thickly. “I don’t know what magic sweets there are, I’ve never–”

“Well,” Sirius interjected, not entirely sure why he just wanted Remus to stop rambling. “Do you like sour things? Or chewy sweets? Or chocolate? Or liquorice, that's what Peter had.”

“I like chocolate,” Remus said meekly, looking rather overwhelmed as he stared down at his shoes.

“He’ll have a chocolate frog then,” James nodded, handing over a few Knuts to the old woman.

Remus looked absolutely horrified as James handed over the purple and gold box to him. Sirius almost wanted to laugh, but he had resolved himself to being nice after all. He did wonder how Remus would react when he realised that chocolate frogs jumped. Remus didn’t even open the small box, just sitting there with it on his lap.

“You didn’t have to pay, James,” he said indignantly. “I do have that magic money, my-my dad’s a wizard!”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Four pairs of eyes landed on Sirius with varying degrees of irritation. So much for being nice. Swinging his leg down from where he’d awkwardly crossed it and been taking up far too much space, Sirius sat up a little straighter and gave Remus an apologetic look.

“Sorry, mate,” he said, avoiding the urge to look down at his shoes. “You just seemed so confused that I thought you were a Mudblood.”

Sirius had expected a lot of reactions from his lackluster apology. The loud gasp that echoed around the compartment hadn’t been one of them. His eyes darted between a wide eyed James, a now-hiccupping Peter, a scowling Marlene, and an equally confused Remus. He had done something wrong. Had he not apologised enough? Should he continue to express his agonies over assuming that Remus had Muggle parents? Sirius rather wished someone would say something. Marlene was the first to speak, looking as though she could barely hold herself back from lunging across the compartment and throttling him.

“I just knew you’d pull something like that,” she spat, folding her arms over her chest. “I mean, you seemed alright at first, but you blood purists are all the same. You’re a bloody bigoted twat, Sirius Black!”

“Marlene,” James said firmly, but it had little effect. James was still blinking behind his glasses rapidly, as though he was trying to figure something out. Sirius let out a little awkward laugh that was silenced when all three of them turned to glare at him. Wrong move.

“What’s a Mudblood?” Remus asked quietly, whispering the last word like he was afraid he couldn’t say it.

“Someone whose parents aren’t wizards,” Sirius replied, only getting head shakes in response. “What?”

“Someone whose parents aren’t wizards would be a Muggleborn,” James said, clearly trying to be as calm as he possibly could. “That word, the one Sirius said, is what blood purists call them, because they think their blood is dirty. It’s a slur.”

Sirius felt his heart drop into his stomach. He didn’t think people who weren’t purebloods were dirty, he had no problem with them! The realisation that this word he had been throwing around because his parents had and because his aunts and his uncles and his cousins had, was offensive made him want to be violently ill. Sirius could remember referring to Muggleborns as Mudbloods since he was a child, just believing it was normal. He wondered if Regulus knew.

Sirius must have looked as horrified as he felt, because the glares he was getting had softened a little. At least from Peter and James, Marlene still looks thunderous. Practically tripping over himself to apologise, Sirius’ words began to spew out as though he really was vomiting.

“I-I didn’t know that, I swear,” he rambled, knowing he must have turned rather pale. “I just… I thought that was what they were called! Merlin, I’m sorry! My parents, they said–”

“It’s fine, mate,” James said, patting Sirius’ shoulder. “We believe you.”

“Not like you’ve had the best house to grow up in for that sort of thing,” Marlene grumbled, kicking the heels of her patent shoes against the seat beneath her. “Sorry for calling you a bigoted twat.”

“Sorry for being one,” Sirius smiled weakly, his guilt easing just the slightest when Marlene shot him a brief smile back.

Remus seemed to snap out of his deep thought with a frown. “Wait, so what the hell am I? And why is my chocolate moving?!”

Chapter Text

James loved being a Potter, but he disliked the fact that his last name was in the second half of the alphabet. As the first years were shepherded into a gaggle at the front of the Great Hall, he felt like jumping onto the stool and finding his house straight away. He knew he would be Gryffindor, just like his dad. James wouldn’t have minded being Ravenclaw like his mum, or in Hufflepuff either. He didn’t let himself consider the possibility of Slytherin.

Sirius didn’t look as though he could see any other possibility. He was positively glum as he stood next to James, staring at the floor while Remus and Peter gawked at the ceiling. It was beautiful, with flickering candles suspended in the air and a flamingo pink sunset over them as the night approached. At the beginning of September, it was still light into the evenings, and James had spent those late evenings in his garden with Marlene and Peter until their parents made them go home.

Marlene was stood beside James, looking just a little bit nervous. It surprised him; Marlene was never nervous. Even James, who considered himself very brave, was scared of far more things than Marlene. But now, she was chewing on her bottom lip and staring straight ahead as Professor McGonnagall picked up the Sorting Hat. McGonnagall was a little younger than James’ parents, but her Scottish accent and sharp look made her appear much more intimidating. But James had caught her smiling as she surveyed the new first years.

The A’s of the alphabet went by quickly, and soon Sirius was sat on the stool. James crossed his fingers in his pocket, a childish superstition. He rather liked Sirius, who was more quick witted and funny than he had expected from a Black. James wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to Sirius yet.

McGonnagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head, causing his face to fall into shadow. James watched as Sirius glanced over at the Slytherin table before shutting his eyes. The Sorting Hat had spent some time deliberating on the other students, but it quickly chose Sirius’ house.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Sirius smiled briefly, but he looked positively sick as he sat down at the Gryffindor table, his pale features turning a ghostly white. There was even a small murmur of surprise around the Great Hall as everyone struggled to believe that a Black had been sorted into any house other than Slytherin, especially Slytherin’s great rival. James tried to shoot Sirius a smile, but the boy had his eyes fixed on the Sorting.

James grew more and more nervous as the Sorting progressed. Remus and Marlene were both in Gryffindor, as well as a few girls he hadn’t noticed before. There had been a fair amount of boys; James suspected there would have to be two boys dormitories. He hoped he could share one with Peter and Sirius, and Remus too.

When Peter sat on the stool, the Sorting Hat seemed to stop working. It stayed very still for a long time, causing whispers to begin to circulate the Great Hall. James had heard of there being people who couldn’t be sorted before, but he had assumed those were made up. Peter deserved to be in Gryffindor, James thought, because he was just as brave as James and Marlene were. Peter always kept up with them, and there was no reason that the Hat should be taking this long–

“GRYFFINDOR!”

James breathed a sigh of relief, unaware that he had been on the verge of passing out from the way he’d begun to hold his breath. There was one more person sorted, a Bella Platton who found herself in Ravenclaw, and then James’ name was called. Swallowing thickly, he moved to the front of the Great Hall.

Giving him the most imperceptible of smiles, McGonnagall placed the Hat on James’ head. It was just a little too large, slipping down onto the top of his glasses. James thought he must look ridiculous, but he had bigger things to be concerned about. If he didn’t get sorted into Gryffindor, he wouldn’t be in a dorm with his friends. Peter and Marlene would stop talking to him, and he’d have no one to spend the summer with. He’d be alone and friendless and overall, his life would be over.

“We’ve got ourselves a worrier, have we?”

James jolted, looking up at McGonnagall. Only McGonnagall wasn’t the one talking to him. No, it was the Sorting Hat. It was speaking to James, inside his head. He didn’t like the thought of the Hat having access to his thoughts at all, but if it meant he was getting into Gryffindor, he didn’t mind too much.

“I’m not a worrier,” James thought intently. “I just want to be with my friends.”

“Loyalty,” the Hat mused, “is a rather Hufflepuff trait.”

“Loyalty is something everyone should have,” James huffed, getting rather tired of the Hat. “Now, please can you sort me?”

“Determined, are we? Hmm, a rather chivalrous set of morals in this head. Not a bad brain either, but I don’t think Ravenclaw is the place for you. It’ll have to be…

GRYFFINDOR!”

Exhaling once more, James resolved to stop holding his breath. He stood from the stool as McGonnagall removed the Sorting Hat from his head and called up Edward Quigley. James practically sprinted towards the Gryffindor table, sliding in between Marlene and Peter. Opposite him, Sirius grinned, looking significantly less sick.

Soon the feast appeared in front of them, mountains of meat and roast potatoes and vegetables. Loading his plate, James thought that he would rather miss the food he ate at home. He wondered if the Hogwarts house elves knew how to prepare gulab jamun with firecracker syrup like his family’s house elf Figby did. He would have to ask, if he could manage to track down the kitchens. The maps they had been provided with on entering the castle didn’t include the kitchens, likely because students loved to bother the house elves with requests.

Munching on a green bean, James began to observe his fellow first year Gryffindors. Peter had mainly focused on the pigs in blankets, which James knew were his favourite, and he ate them while intently listening into Marlene and Sirius’ chatting. Remus seemed to inspect each piece of food as though it might start moving before he got it from the plate to his mouth. Sirius ate with perfect table manners, using every available piece of cutlery for what James didn’t doubt were its intended purposes, and never once speaking with food in his mouth. Marlene did not have such manners, jabbing her fork at Sirius each time he said something she disagreed with.

“No, no!” she said through a mouthful of peas. “You can’t seriously believe that Puddlemere United are the best team!”

“They’ve won the league twenty-two times, McKinnon,” Sirius countered, placing his cutlery down neatly. “It isn’t my opinion, it’s a fact!”

“Just you wait, I bet the Kestrels are going to win,” Marlene huffed, shoving a large chunk of potato into her mouth.

“Marls, you have to get over your Kenmare Kestrels obsession,” James joined in, nudging her shoulder playfully and earning a shove in return. “Just because their keeper invented something–”

“Not something,” Marlene snapped. “ Darren O’Hare created the Chaser Hawkshead Attacking Formation, the best attack strategy of all time!”

No one seemed to be listening to Marlene anymore. James and Peter had heard this speech a million times before, each time one of them dared to mention supporting another team. Remus looked completely confused, and James thought that he really must explain Quidditch to him later. Sirius had turned to singing Puddlemere United’s anthem in Marlene’s face and shouting “Navy and gold ‘till I die!” repeatedly.

James didn’t feel very homesick anymore. Sure, he missed his parents immensely and he would likely cry when he went to bed that night, but Hogwarts was already beginning to feel like home. Strangely, the squabbling and Sirius’ warbling of ‘Beat back those Bludgers, boys, and chuck that Quaffle here’ created a comforting sort of chaos that wrapped around James like a blanket.

Dumbledore stood to announce the end of the feast, and James rose with the rest of his friends. They followed a tall Prefect named Frank towards the Gryffindor common room. It was only when James turned around to speak to him that he realised Remus was gone.

“Where’s Lupin?” he muttered to Sirius as Frank explained the importance of remembering the password.

“Dunno,” Sirius whispered back. “He just said he had to go see someone and ran off.”

“He ran?”

“Well, not really. He just walked rather quickly, I was being descriptive.”

The two boys laughed, causing Frank to shoot them an attempted glare that wasn’t intimidating in the slightest. As the rest of the first years filed into the common room, James sat on the stone floor outside the portrait. Sirius didn’t ask before following suit, but they had lost Peter.

James repeated the password in his head a few times, just making sure that he didn’t forget it. He had an excellent memory, but he didn’t want to get stuck out here in the hallway. Slytherin were probably already plotting something nefarious based on the stories his dad had told him. James’ dad had combatted Slytherin’s plots with the Invisibility Cloak, and James was ready to do the same.

Peter reappeared moments later, pushing the portrait open and peering out. He frowned at the sight of his two friends on the floor, blinking rapidly.

“We’re waiting for Remus,” Sirius said, kicking the heel of his smart shoes against the stone floor.

“He won’t know the password,” James added. “You don’t have to stay, Pete. You can unpack your things and have the first pick of which bed you want.”

Nodding slowly, Peter disappeared into the common room. James let his head rest against the wall, staring ahead. The sound of Sirius’ shoes was a slow rhythm, echoed by the muffled conversations from behind the portrait.

“My parents are going to disown me,” Sirius mumbled, eyes fixed on his shoes.

“You can share my parents,” James said, staring at the wall in front of them.

Neither of them looked at each other. Neither of them said another word as they waited for Remus. But Sirius nudged the tip of his shoe against the side of James’ leg, and that was a good enough answer.

Chapter Text

Peter waited in the dormitory for his friends for a long time. The other Gryffindor boys had asked if he wanted to be in their dorm, giving him a strange look that unsettled him. He declined. For a while, Peter just sat on the four poster bed he had chosen (the one closest to the bathroom in case he needed the toilet in the middle of the night) and waited for them to arrive. Then, Peter unpacked his pyjamas and went into the bathroom to change, hoping they would’ve appeared when he emerged.

They hadn’t.

He began to wonder if he should’ve also offered to stay downstairs to wait for Remus, though he didn’t see the point in all three of them loitering. Peter hadn’t even noticed that Remus wasn’t with them until James pointed it out. He prided himself on his excellent observational skills, and he hadn’t noticed an entire missing person. Peter felt a little guilty because of that.

There were a lot of negative feelings swirling around in his gut at that moment. Peter often found himself feeling this way, when everything seemed to be too loud, too bright, too sharp, too sad, too much. He had found that doing something interesting often helped him feel better, busying his brain.

Reaching into his trunk, he pulled out one of his sketchbooks. It was bound in green leather and had been a Christmas gift from Peter’s mother, who had been very excited about his interest in art. Peter wondered if she would be so excited if she knew what he was drawing.

Bugs. Lots and lots of bugs. Peter had been fascinated by insects since he was very small, often bringing them in from the garden. Initially, his parents had found it charming. That had only been because they thought he would grow out of it, but Peter did not. He hadn’t been able to bring it all to Hogwarts, but in several shoeboxes beneath his bed, he had a collection of preserved wings and jars of dried husks.

He hoped his parents wouldn’t find his collection while he was away. They’d throw it out, maybe even send him a Howler. Peter understood that his hobby was strange; James and Marlene didn’t seem to care about insects at all. But it brought him comfort, because insects made sense. When he drew their intricate wings or learnt about their mating rituals, Peter had always felt that he understood the little creatures more than anyone else did. It had been a shame to leave his collection at home.

At least he had brought his sketchbook to Hogwarts. Leafing through pages filled with accurate sketches of all manner of bugs, Peter almost forgot that he was waiting for his friends. He began sketching a particular lacewing fly that he had seen from the window of the Hogwarts Express. He was able to do it from memory, though he’d have to check it against the real thing if he saw it again.

He was extremely excited for Herbology, and he already intended to take Care of Magical Creatures once he began his OWLs. Peter could only imagine the different species of insects in the Herbology greenhouse, flying about and living on the leaves of a Mandrake or Shrivelfigs. His sketchbook would soon be filled with accurate depictions of all of them; he would have to purchase a new one at Christmas, he was sure.

Peter slammed his sketchbook shut as the dormitory door opened. He didn’t discuss his inclination towards insects with James or Marlene, and he didn’t want to give anyone else reason to make fun of him. Sirius already seemed the type to think insects were disgusting. Peter slid the green book beneath the covers and resolved to put it back into his trunk once everyone was asleep.

Nobody told him where Remus had been. Peter wondered if he was supposed to ask.

***

The first day of lessons came the following Monday, and it was far worse than Peter expected. He had anticipated a few hiccups as he got used to his magic. He had prepared himself for awkwardness as he spoke to the other first years. Not once had he considered that he would be absolutely terrible at everything.

They had double Potions first thing after breakfast, their first ever lesson at Hogwarts, and Peter soon learned that he did not have an affinity for the subject. To make matters worse, they had Potions with Slytherin.

He had been initially rather interested in the idea of Potions, mostly because there were a lot of insects used in concocting certain draughts and elixirs. Peter had hoped to pinch a lacewing or two, just to compare it to his sketch and make sure he’d got the angle of the antennae just right. He’d return it after.

James and Peter had partnered up, of course, and Remus and Sirius stood behind the cauldron next to theirs. Marlene was talking to another Gryffindor girl with bouncy black curls. Peter wondered if the girl knew her tie was far too short, or if she’d done it on purpose. He couldn’t see why she would’ve.

After Professor Slughorn’s overly enthusiastic speech about the powers and potential of Potions, they had begun creating a simple Cure for Boils potion. Peter recoiled as James measured out how many snake fangs they’d need, before procuring a pestle and mortar to crush them.

That was where it started to go wrong. Peter began crushing the snake fangs, and one slipped out from under him with quite a lot of force. It flinged across the room, bounced against their cauldron, and then it hit a rather mean looking Slytherin.

“Who did that?” the Slytherin bellowed, looking around the room with a scowl.

Peter looked about the room as though searching for the mystery assailant, and he hoped the boy wouldn’t be able to tell it was him. Then James started laughing, nudging him and whispering, “Good one, Pete.”

The Slytherin turned towards Peter with a sneer. He had black hair to his chin that looked in good need of a wash, and his robes hung off his frame as though ten sizes too large. He wasn’t much taller than Peter was, but he was weedier and more agile looking. Peter hoped they wouldn’t have to fight. James and Marlene were always rather keen on wrestling about, but he didn’t really see the appeal.

Fumbling in his pocket, the Slytherin boy procured his wand. Peter didn’t know what spell he was planning to do, as they actually hadn’t learned any yet.

He didn’t have to find out. A small redheaded girl placed her hand on the Slytherin’s arm, and he looked so startled that he almost dropped his wand. The girl was wearing Gryffindor robes, and Peter wondered if the divide between the two houses really wasn’t as life-and-death as James had made it seem.

“It’s not worth it, Severus,” the girl said, causing the boy to stuff his wand into his pocket and resemble a sulking toddler. “It was probably just an accident.”

Professor Slughorn chose that moment to turn around and inquire about why they’d all stopped working. The class fell back into the low hum of chatter, and Peter’s shoulders relaxed. James was still chuckling, so Peter had to do most of the work. In the end, their potion was entirely the wrong colour, and they doubted it would work at all.

Peter had similar luck in Transfiguration and Charms. His hand cramped up when taking notes on McGonnagall’s speech, missing out an entire chunk. His feather hadn’t even lifted an inch from the desk, only moving when a gust of wind blew through the open window. Peter wondered if he was going to be this terrible at everything. He hoped not.

Chapter Text

Despite his desire to protest, Remus was enjoying Hogwarts. The wand his father had purchased with him at Diagon Alley (a ridiculous place both in name and nature, Remus thought) worked fine, even if it rubbed at the scar on his palm just a little every time he used it. Remus had managed to perform the beginner spells quite well, if he said so himself, and his Cure for Boils had been almost precisely the correct colour. He blamed the minor difference on Sirius.

His favourite was History of Magic. Professor Binns was a ghost, for goodness sakes, and no one else seemed to think that was incredible. Remus had been called a teacher’s pet for admiring the ghost’s dedication to teaching History of Magic even after death.

His friends found the theory subject tedious, and Sirius had leant over to ask who didn’t already know this stuff. Remus didn’t. He found every Goblin rebellion and wizarding duel fascinating, and the world he was in began to make sense.

A few conclusions had been drawn in the first week as Remus began to understand the wizarding world. The first was that there was an unspoken rule about house fraternisation. For first years, it seemed to be entirely forbidden, and while the older students may have a Hufflepuff study partner or a Ravenclaw girlfriend, Remus was yet to see anyone from the other houses even talk to a Slytherin.

James harboured a deep dislike for Slytherin House, and he’d spoken about the situation in their first Potions lesson non-stop. Remus didn’t really see the point of all the animosity. The Slytherins seemed freaky, and he knew about being freaky. Besides, the green robes were rather cool looking, not that Remus dared mention it.

His second conclusion was that Quidditch was essentially the wizard version of rugby. Remus didn’t understand the rules of the game from what he had heard, and he was far too afraid of a long explanation to ask. James and Sirius raved about it constantly, fawning over their favourite team (Puddle-something, rather pathetic sounding). Remus gritted his teeth every time he heard the phrase “Navy and gold ‘till I die!” from either of their mouths.

Peter wasn’t as keen, but he still chimed in with the occasional statistic or opinion. Even Marlene liked Quidditch. She wanted to play for the Kenmare Kestrels, James had said one afternoon, and was obsessed with the team. Remus had managed to endure all of Marlene’s rants about attack strategies and cup victories, but he wasn’t quite sure what a Quaffle was.

Marlene was Remus’ third conclusion. She was a girl, yet she was friends with boys. That had been the forbidden fraternisation at Remus’ primary school; boys hung out with boys and girls hung out with girls. Remus had no problem with girls, and Marlene acted rather like a boy anyway. She may have just been acting like a person. Remus hadn’t spent enough time with girls to know the difference, and he didn’t care that much to investigate the hypothesis.

There were a few other Gryffindor girls in their year, as well as the other boys dormitory. Remus understood that they were in some sort of rivalry with these boys, not that he knew any of their names. He didn’t know much of the girls’ names either. He knew Lily, the red headed girl from the train that he was not inclined to speak to again, and he knew the Black girl that hung around with Lily was called Mary.

That had been another of Remus’ conclusions. James and Mary both had deep brown skin, yet nobody at Hogwarts seemed to care. Remus hadn’t really seen anyone who wasn’t white before, not in his tiny village in Wales, but he knew that they weren’t treated kindly.

Hogwarts was different. All of the students seemed to be equal here, no matter where they came from or who they were. Another begrudging point added to Remus’ growing love of wizard school.

He wondered if they would treat him as well if they knew about his furry problem. There had been mentions of goblins and pixies, of unicorns and phoenixes, but no werewolves. Lycanthrope, that’s what Dumbledore had called him. It sounded better than werewolf, Remus thought.

Remus had met with McGonnagall and the school nurse after the welcome feast. Her name was Madam Pomfrey, and she was going to be taking care of Remus. She was a kind looking woman, around 40, and her chestnut coloured hair was just beginning to go grey. The robes she wore looked rather like an old nurse costume, and Remus tried not to chuckle at it.

Madam Pomfrey seemed well meaning enough. She had done a lot of research on lycanthropy, and she even had books that she wanted Remus to borrow on the subject. He had mumbled an awkward joke about being given homework on the first day, and his heart had felt strangely light when Madam Pomfrey laughed at it.

James and Sirius had been waiting outside the Gryffindor common room when he went up. They had asked him questions, but Remus felt rather sick. He had only been at Hogwarts a few hours and they were already going to find out. He mumbled an excuse about saying hello to someone for his father and followed them through the portrait. Remus did not sleep very well that night.

They didn’t bring it up again, and Remus felt rather silly for having prepared so many back up reasons in case his first one wasn't enough to convince them. He would tell them he had a made up Muggle illness, or that he had caught a disease from a rabid pet that scratched him up too. But James and Sirius were trusting boys, and they hadn’t asked again.

Remus wondered if he’d ever get used to lying.

***

The first full moon was on the eleventh, and Remus had a plan. He took longer to get up in the morning, making sure he looked tired. At lunch, he mentioned a stomach ache. By dinner, he was groaning and clutching his side. Peter even said he looked a little pale.

“I think I’ll go to the infirmary,” Remus mumbled, adding a wince. “It’s pretty bad, I might have to spend the night.”

“We’ll take you, mate,” James said, with a sympathetic look that made Remus feel just a little bit guilty. “We could say we’ve all got something, stay the night and bunk off tomorrow too!”

“Skipping lessons in the first week?” Peter looked pale. “We’ll fall behind– I’m already behind, I’ll fail, I–”

“It’s fine!”

Remus rose from the table, remembering to put an arm over his stomach and grimace. He waved off James’ worrying and traipsed away towards the infirmary. He knew the way; he’d looked at the orientation map they’d been given nearly a hundred times. But so close to the full moon, he could probably get there by scent alone. The smell of medicines and that awful antibacterial scent were so strong that he could almost taste them.

He could hear his own heartbeat, feel the blood running through his veins, smell every odour that had ever graced these itchy robes. The full moon heightened his senses, except his sight. His eyes had been a little blurry around the edges all day, and by the time he reached the infirmary, tunnel vision had set in. Whenever the transformation began, he lost colour vision too.

Madam Pomfrey was anxious. Remus could smell it as he sat on the hospital bed. She was picking up bottles and salves, placing them back down again in a huff. The sun was close to setting, surely he should be somewhere safe by now.

Where was somewhere safe? He had been assured that he would be nowhere near the other students when he transformed, that everyone would be safe. Remus wondered if Hogwarts had some sort of secret basement for its creatures, or if there was a silver plated shed waiting for him.

After Dumbledore’s visit, Remus had asked his father if his condition would be cured at Hogwarts. Prepared to be angry at Lyall for withholding a magical treatment simply because he disliked magic, Remus had only been disappointed to discover there was no cure. He would turn every month for the rest of his life.

A sharp pain jolted down his spine, and Remus sat up stick straight. Madam Pomfrey lifted her head from some sort of book, a look of concern on her face. He tried to wave her off, but she was growing more grey by the second.

He was going to transform, right in the middle of the infirmary. Everyone would know he was a dangerous beast. His new friends would want nothing to do with him, and he’d have to go home. Worse, they’d lock him up in some magical prison.

“We best get going,” Madam Pomfrey said softly, helping him to stand. “Now, hold on to me.”

Remus barely had time to nod. There was a sharp crack, and all of a sudden, they were outside. The cold wind threw overwhelming odours into Remus’ nostrils as Madam Pomfrey guided him down a dark passage. He wanted to ask what had just happened, but his bones were beginning to ache.

“Oh dear,” Madam Pomfrey whispered as Remus heard himself groan, patting his shoulder. “Apparating is a little jarring at first. You’re not even supposed to be able to Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, but I had Dumbledore lift the enchantments for you and me. We’ll leave earlier and walk here next time.”

“Where is here?”

They stepped out into a dark room. There was nothing in there except a small bed, nailed to the floor in case he tried to destroy it. Remus didn’t really destroy anything during his transformations, other than himself.

The room smelled damp and a little dusty, but Remus couldn’t detect that sickening silver stench of his home shed. Surely they had to have used silver, otherwise he could get out and hurt someone. His head hurt a little less though.

Remus sat on the bed as Madam Pomfrey continued fussing over him. She was stroking his hair, and making simpering little cooing noises that Remus hated. He didn’t need to be taken care of. He had done this by himself since he was five, he could do it.

“Now, when I’ve gone, you can remove your clothes so they don’t get torn up,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I suggest you stash them under the bed. Oh, you poor boy!”

“I’m not,” Remus grumbled, kicking his shoe off. “Stop worrying about me. I’m not your kid.”

Madam Pomfrey froze. She stood there, looking down at him with a look. Remus wanted her to shout at him, to just leave him alone, but that wasn’t the look. She looked sad, like he’d hurt her feelings, and Remus really wanted her to leave.

“I know,” she said in a quiet voice, her eyes soft and pitying.

He stood up, nearly eye level with her. He turned and began to pull his shirt off. The door closed, and her scent faded away as he finished undressing. Remus stuffed his clothes in a pile under the bed, feeling like a right fool as he sat there, naked and waiting.

The pain shot down his spine again, shooting out along each vertebrae until it reached his tailbone. He stood up quickly, only to fall to his knees as his bones began to crack. They broke and reformed as Remus watched in black and white. He wasn’t a boy now.

He was the wolf.

Chapter Text

Sirius was beginning to worry. He had been at Hogwarts, in Gryffindor House no less, for a fortnight and his parents hadn’t written once. He had half hoped that they didn’t know, but his ridiculous cousin Cissy had definitely written to them right away.

Initially, Sirius had awaited the Howler with baited breath. When it didn’t arrive, he had thought that such a loud display of unrest within the family wouldn’t be proper, in his parents’ eyes. No, they’d come to extract him quietly in the dead of night. He wouldn’t even have time to say goodbye before they sent him off to Beauxbatons.

But there was nothing. No letter, no surprise visit, no message passed through Cissa or one of their other pureblood pals (Sirius was certain he must be related to half the people there). His parents were silent, likely focusing on shaping Regulus into the Heir now that their first attempt had failed.

Not that Sirius cared. Regulus was an annoying little thing, and he hadn’t written either, so why should Sirius care what they did to him? He tried to ignore the feeling of guilt in his stomach each time he thought of Regulus all alone at Grimmauld Place.

A distraction was needed, and a few weeks into the term, it arrived.

The first Quidditch match of the year was between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It had been all that occupied Sirius’ conversations with James and Marlene. Even Peter joined in some times, and Sirius found himself enjoying the pudgy boy’s presence. He scolded himself for that thought. Peter really wasn’t that fat.

It quickly became apparent that Remus had no idea what Quidditch was. He always nodded along to their conversations, but he clearly didn’t know what they were talking about. Sirius had taken to throwing in false statements, even going so far as to invent an extra player called the Thrasher, and all the while Remus nodded along.

The four boys and Marlene filed into the bench seats, as close to the front as they could get without being threatened by some older students. James was bouncing in his seat, Marlene’s eyes were locked on the pitch, Peter’s brow was furrowed, and Remus was looking around for a good time to pull out the book in his bag.

Sirius leaned over to Remus, whispering in his ear. “There are seven players on a team. One Keeper, one Seeker, two Beaters, and three Chasers.”

“I-I know that,” Remus protested in an equally hushed tone, folding his arms.

“Oh, stop pretending and let me explain.” Sirius continued as Remus nodded reluctantly. “The Keeper protects the hoops so the opposite team can’t score. The Chasers throw the Quaffle –that’s the red ball– into the hoops to score points. With me so far?”

“Waffle, hoops, points, yep.”

Sirius chuckled. Remus couldn’t have looked more confused if he had tried. It was difficult for Sirius to imagine growing up without knowledge of magic, let alone Quidditch. Even locked in private tutoring lessons and family banquets, Sirius had managed to become a Quidditch fanatic. He and Regulus even shared a broom that he hadn’t been permitted to bring.

Perhaps Remus just didn’t like sports. Sirius hadn’t heard of any Muggle sports before, but he assumed that they had some equivalent of Quidditch. What else would they do? All Remus seemed to enjoy was reading, and Sirius couldn’t imagine just reading all the time.

But Remus was confusing for Sirius altogether. While Sirius was above average in most of his lessons, Remus excelled. It seemed impossible, to have grown up with no knowledge of magic at all and to suddenly best everyone at everything. Maybe it was all the reading he did, but something was off. Sirius would have to investigate further.

“The Beaters’ job,” Sirius continued, “is to use their bats to hit Bludgers at the opposition, to knock them off so they can’t score.”

“That’s bloody violent!” Remus gasped, waving awkwardly at the group of Hufflepuff girls in front that turned around at his outburst. “Oh, uhh, hello.”

The girls just shook their heads and turned back around. Sirius coughed to stifle his amusement, knowing that Remus probably didn’t want to be embarrassed further.

“Control yourself, Lupin. Now, the last player is the Seeker. They follow the Snitch, which is the golden ball with wings and it's terribly hard to see, and if they catch it, the game ends.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. And their team gets one hundred and fifty points.”

“Why don’t they all just look for the Snitz then?”

“Snitch, Lupin, come on. Only the Seeker can do that, it’s just the rules.”

“The rules are ridiculous,” Remus said quietly, under his breath like he didn’t intend for anyone to hear it.

Sirius laughed to himself, but said nothing. The teams were starting to come out now, walking out onto the pitch in their reds and greens. He fancied one of those uniforms for himself, but he didn’t dare try out until at least second year. The youngest player on the Gryffindor team now was Judi Seabright, a third year Chaser, and Sirius couldn’t see anyone younger on the Slytherin team.

He hadn’t even had a real flying lesson at Hogwarts. Father hadn’t let him bring his “heirloom” broom, so he’d have to use one of the school ones. James had brought his Nimbus 1500, and Sirius was extremely jealous. Most first years couldn’t convince their parents to allow them to bring their broomsticks to Hogwarts, the Blacks included. Sirius was rather going to like sharing James’ parents, if he’d meant it.

As the team captains shook hands, there was a scream from the Slytherin end of the pitch. All eyes flicked to the Slytherin students, sat on the benches in their green and silver. Only they weren’t wearing their house colours anymore.

Sirius watched his cousin Cissy’s platinum blonde locks turn a deep crimson. Her insufferable boyfriend Lucius’ hair was golden all of a sudden. First a few students began to shriek at their new hair colours, one by one, then more until all of the Slytherin supporters were sporting red and gold.

Doubling over with laughter, Sirius couldn’t contain himself. They all looked ridiculous, scrabbling about and clasping their heads in their hands. He didn’t know who had done this, but whoever it was, they were a genius.

“Why’ve they done that?” Peter asked as James slipped off the bench onto the floor of the bleachers, rolling about and giggling.

“They’ve not done it to themselves, Pettigrew,” Sirius chortled, bending over at the waist. He would join James on the floor soon if he couldn’t hold in his laughter. “It’s a prank! A bloody perfect prank!”

As if they had heard his praise, two brooms soared into the air. It was none of the Quidditch players, who stood befuddled on the pitch as Madam Hooch tried to contain the situation. It was two boys, lanky and pale with fiery ginger hair. From where Sirius was stood, gazing up at them, he couldn’t tell the difference between them. Twins, he concluded.

From their brooms, the boys waved down at the students in the stands as everyone cheered for them. Even some of the Slytherin students seemed amused, once they’d gotten over the shock.

“The Prewett twins are at it again,” chuckled a fifth year Ravenclaw girl who was snuggling with her Gryffindor boyfriend.

“Who are they?” Sirius asked her, fully turning around to look up at her.

He must have looked rather silly, but he wanted to know who these boys were, blowing down kisses at their sea of adoring fans. To change every Slytherin’s hair to red and gold had to be some impressive magic. Sirius wondered if they would teach him.

“Gideon and Fabian Prewett,” the girl’s boyfriend answered. “They’re pranksters. This is their first prank of the year, and it’s a pretty good one, I’ve gotta say.”

“Pretty good?!” James chimed in, turning around to stare up at the confused fifth years. “It’s incredible! I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Join the fan club, kids,” said the Ravenclaw girl. “Nearly everyone around here worships the Prewett twins. McGonnagall lets them get away with everything– I bet they won’t even get detention for this.”

Sirius looked at James, sharing an expression of awe before casting his eyes on the sky. The Prewett twins were circling now, high fiving people and sticking their tongues out at disgruntled Slytherins. As one of them passed overhead, Sirius reached up, standing on the bench.

The high five felt electric, and Sirius almost vowed right there to never wash his hands again. Because he had been wrong. The Prewett twins weren’t geniuses: they were gods.

And Sirius wanted what they had.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t been able to think of anything except the Prewett twins all week. Gideon had high fived him and Sirius, and James’ hand still tingled whenever he thought of it. He could tell the twins apart now, after some careful observation.

James had been a little worried that knowing when their lessons were and watching them when they were chatting at mealtimes was a bit strange, but Sirius wanted to do it too. Gideon had a freckle just under his left eye that Fabian didn’t have, and Fabian had a slit in his right eyebrow that was impossibly cool. James planned on cutting one himself, as soon as he got his magic under control and could guarantee that he wouldn’t slice his eye instead.

It was a Saturday, and they were sitting in their dorm, all four boys. James and Sirius were sprawled on the floor, Peter was doing some homework in a green notebook, and Remus was reading. He was always reading.

James felt overwhelmingly bored. The Prewett twins were probably doing something way more fun than this. They probably had another prank planned, a prank that would blow everyone’s minds. He couldn’t wait.

“What do you think the Prewett twins have planned next?” he asked, lying his cheek against the brown carpet as he turned to look at Sirius.

Sirius perked up immediately, pushing himself up a little to rest his chin against his hand. He looked as though he was pondering, with that regal air he always had. It made James laugh every time, because Sirius looked a very sincere eleven year old.

Eventually, Sirius huffed. He lay down on his stomach, resting his cheek on the carpet to stare at James, echoing his position. They were well into October, but their dorm managed to be so warm that all you really wanted to do was lie on the floor. It was a miracle that they got their homework done.

“I give up,” Sirius said. “We’d never be able to predict it. They’re creative geniuses!”

“Revolutionaries,” James nodded.

“Savants!”

“Prank connoisseurs!”

“Oh, would you shush?” Remus grumbled, slamming his book shut in a rather threatening manner. “All you two want to talk about is the bloody Prewett twins! The prank was good, but there’s a million pranks in the world! Please, just get over it?”

Sirius sat upright, before scrambling to his feet. He pounced, jumping up onto Remus’ bed. James followed, but Peter stayed content on his own bed, working away. Sirius pushed Remus’ book out of his lap, and the red volume joined the pile on the floor. Remus didn’t exactly have a flair for organisation, but he looked scandalised at the action of having his book ripped from him by an excitable Sirius Black.

“Of course,” Sirius exclaimed. “Why didn’t we think of this sooner?”

Remus mumbled something under his breath that James couldn’t quite hear, because he was too busy catching onto what Sirius was suggesting. A stroke of genius, really. They had an untapped resource, a secret weapon.

Growing up in the Muggle world, without magic to prank people with, Remus had all the knowledge of Muggle pranks that Hogwarts had never seen. They could take those ideas, add a hex or two, and create something worthy of the Prewett twins’ approval.

James could imagine it now: their prank would go off with incredible success, and everyone would look to the Prewetts. They’d shrug, and say it wasn’t them. That would be when James and Sirius would stand up, take ownership, and become best friends with the Prewetts. Perhaps Gideon would high five him again. Perhaps James could high five them both.

“Remus Lupin, you are a treasure!” Sirius was practically bouncing up and down.

“Will you two just tell me what you’re telepathically communicating with each other?”

“What we’re saying, Lupin my boy,” James said, “is that you know all of the Muggle pranks that there are. We can use those pranks, with a magical twist of course, and then we’ll be like the Prewetts! Creative geniuses!”

“Revolutionaries!”

“Savants, prank connoisseurs, I get it,” Remus sighed, rubbing his temples as though he had two very annoying headaches. “Muggle pranks aren’t very good, you know. Just buckets of water over doors and whoopee cushions–”

“What cushions?” James blinked. “How are cushions a prank?”

“Whoopee cushions,” Remus sighed again, like this was all extremely bothersome for him. “They’re these little things you put on a chair, so when people sit down on it, it makes a… noise. Of flatulence.”

“Did you just refer to farting as flatulence?” James snorted, looking over at a less amused Sirius.

“Mother made us call it trumping,” he said in a very matter of fact manner.

James laughed so hard he fell off the bed.

***

The prank was perfect. The boys had done extensive research, more than they’d do for their homework to Remus’ annoyance. Peter was wary about getting caught, but managed to find the exact incantation that would make the sound ten times louder.

The problem they’d identified with whoopee cushions (James enjoyed just saying the word sometimes, it was so ridiculous) was that once the prank victim found it, it wasn’t all that funny anymore. So, the boys resolved to make it undetectable, removing the physical whoopee cushion altogether so that nobody would know the source of the sound.

They had chosen Slytherin as their targets of course. James had thrown himself into what his father described as ‘house rivalry’, treating it more like a war. He knew that the wizarding world was actually at war, but it didn’t seem as serious as the war against Slytherin.

They arrived at breakfast early, when no one else was in the hall except a few seventh years who already looked stressed for their NEWTs, even though they were months away. James wouldn’t be that stressed when he did his NEWTs; he was already doing well with minimal effort, so why bother?

It took a while for any Slytherins to arrive. Much to their growing irritation, the boys were joined by a scatter of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws but no Slytherins yet. James began to worry that they somehow knew about the prank already.

Then, Snape arrived, the perfect first target. James had disliked Severus Snape ever since Peter had accidentally shot a snake fang at him, and Snape had completely overreacted. James would’ve hexed him, if he’d known any hexes at the time. Severus Snape was a slimy little worm, who seemed to think he was already better than everyone at eleven years old. Even James wasn’t that proud.

Snape had a little gang with him, like he always did. Mulciber seemed to be his best friend, a giant oaf that made Snape look even punier than he already was. The boys waited for them to sit, holding their breath. Snape flicked his cloak out behind him, lowering himself onto the bench.

PFFFFFFFT!

The sound was loud, echoing off the walls of the Great Hall as Snape turned an ugly shade of purple. He stood up, and looked about. Not using a physical whoopee cushion had been a good idea, because once Snape found nothing, he sat down again.

The farting sound that followed was slightly squelchy, as though Snape had just relieved himself. A frowning Mulciber joined him on the bench, jerking up like he had been electrocuted when a loud sound erupted from beneath him.

More and more Slytherins filed in, jolting and gasping when a thunderous fart followed their sitting. The entire Great Hall was laughing, and a first year Hufflepuff slipped off her seat onto the floor, curling up into a giggling ball. A few Slytherins looked for the source of the sound, finding nothing.

The best was when Sirius’ cousin Narcissa sat down. James felt Sirius tense up beside him as she entered with her boyfriend Lucius. James didn’t like that they had matching hair. Narcissa gracefully sat down with elegance and poise.

PFFFFFFFT!

Sirius shrieked with laughter, his pale face flushed pink. Peter choked on his pumpkin juice. James wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Even Remus was laughing now, watching Narcissa’s scowl.

Everyone seemed to be looking at the Prewett twins, and James sat up very straight. The two ginger boys simply shrugged as someone congratulated them on their excellent prank.

“Sorry, mate,” said Gideon, with the freckle under his left eye.

“Wasn’t us,” said Fabian, with the cool slit in his right eyebrow.

James was practically bouncing in his seat at this point, and Sirius was equally excited. Remus rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath again, just a little too quiet for James to catch it.

“It was us!” Sirius blurted out, which was not the cool way they had planned.

But then, the Prewett twins were looking at them and James couldn’t help but join in Sirius’ rambling explanation of how Remus had come up with the Muggle idea and how they’d managed to make it so no one would be able to find out why it was happening.

James waited for the praise and approval of the Prewett twins. All they got was a smile before they realised Professor McGonnagall had heard the entire thing. But detention for a week was worth it.

Chapter Text

The whoopee cushion prank had been more than successful. Despite giving them detentions, McGonnagall hadn’t made them remove the charm until the evening. This meant two more mealtimes of Slytherins farting each time they slightly lifted from the bench. At dinner, they’d all just sat on the floor.

Peter wondered why none of them had realised that once they were sat down, the farting would stop. If they’d just sat still instead of getting up and down all the time, they would’ve been perfectly fine. He was starting to wonder if none of the Slytherins had been blessed with common sense.

Everyone had been shocked to hear that the Prewett twins weren’t behind it. Initially, no one believed the boys when they said they were responsible, not thinking that a few first years had it in them. Once James and Sirius had rambled off their explanation, the Prewett twins had said they were good competition. They had practically died on the spot.

As a result, the boys were getting a lot of attention. Most of it was focused on James and Sirius, because they were basking in it, winking and smirking at people. Peter had even seen James shoot finger guns at someone, while Sirius kept trying to toss his too-short hair, like the twins would with their long mops.

Peter didn’t mind that he got less attention. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand being stared at all the time, and the thought of people talking about him when he wasn’t there made him feel slightly ill. It shouldn’t be allowed, in Peter’s opinion, to perceive someone when they weren’t aware of it.

Remus didn’t seem like he cared about the attention either. He had refused to own up to the prank, somehow managing to get out of detention altogether. Peter had stuck by his best friend and cleaned the cauldrons with James and Sirius.

Peter wasn’t sure if he liked Sirius. Remus was alright, because he was rather quiet and spent most of his time reading. He always helped Peter with his homework too. Sirius wanted to spend most of his time with James, and they were always wrestling around in the dorm or using Wingardium Leviosa to toss balls of paper at each other. Peter wasn’t jealous, exactly, but Sirius was taking some getting used to.

He had already accidentally used several more slurs and stereotypes since his first slip up on the train, but after a gentle explanation from James, he never repeated them. Sirius was trying, Peter concluded, and that was good enough for someone who had grown up with the Blacks.

It was difficult for Peter to imagine, growing up with such a family. His parents weren’t as active in the war as the Potters, but they had taught him to treat everyone equally. Peter didn’t understand blood purism anyway. Everyone’s blood was the same, no matter where it came from.

He wondered if Sirius was an only child. That would explain his indoctrination into his parents’ beliefs, because a family like the Blacks would need to secure their line. Peter was a middle child, which allowed him to blend into the background when he pleased.

His older brother Paul was seventeen, and refused to do his NEWTs. He’d ran away to Hungary to study dragons, though Peter doubted there was much studying going on. Paul liked adventure and this was just another adventure.

Peter’s younger sister Penny was only eight, and she had very little control over her magic. It stressed their parents out a lot, and combined with Paul’s taking off, Peter didn’t think they spared much thought as to whether his insect obsession was over yet.

No matter how hard he tried, Peter couldn’t picture his parents calling Muggleborns slurs or talking about blood purity. He couldn’t imagine growing up how Sirius had. Peter decided to give Sirius a little more patience.

***

Friday 29th October 1971

Halloween was approaching, and Peter had many questions. He had asked them to different people, spread out over a week so as to not raise suspicion. He wasn’t really sure what he thought people were going to be suspicious of, but he would air on the side of caution nonetheless.

His questions had been answered, and now he knew: costumes were not mandatory or expected, lessons were cancelled on Monday 1st September because everyone would be too tired (Peter wasn’t sure what about Halloween was particularly tiring), and though sweets would be served at the feast, there would be no trick or treating.

Peter liked to be prepared, and asking lots of questions had covered all of his bases. He had heard that Hufflepuff was throwing a party, but it was only for the older years. He hoped that didn’t mean that Gryffindor students would come staggering back into the tower at all hours. Peter was a light sleeper.

“What do Muggles do for Halloween, Lupin?” James asked, looking up from his Transfiguration work.

Remus didn’t lift his eyes from his parchment as he took rigorous notes on McGonnagall’s lecturing. He was always very focused in the lessons, never wanting to talk or misbehave like James and Sirius did. Peter didn’t either, but he couldn’t help looking up to listen in.

“Normal stuff,” Remus said, still scribbling away. “Kids dress up and go trick or treating, teenagers get pissed, my dad complains about the noise in the village. I prefer Christmas, really. Except, last Halloween, there was this old lady giving out full size Kit-Kats and Caramacs. I got sick after that.”

“Giving out what?” Sirius blinked, fully turning around from the desk in front.

Peter waited for McGonnagall to tell him off and give them more detention, but she was drawing some sort of diagram on the board. He knew he should copy it down, but Remus had already drawn an accurate replica, and he always let Peter borrow his notes.

Remus was starting to grow on Peter, who usually didn’t like new people. Remus was clever, but he didn’t brag about it like James and Sirius would sometimes. He was very hard working and he didn’t make Peter feel silly for not being able to do certain things. Best of all, Remus appreciated quietness in a way that Sirius and James never did.

“Kit-Kats and Caramacs,” Remus repeated, not even looking at Sirius. “They’re Muggle chocolate bars. Kit-Kats have wafers in them, and Caramacs are creamy with, well, caramel. Have you seriously never had a chocolate bar before?”

“I’ve had a chocolate frog,” James shrugged as Peter and Sirius shook their heads.

Bramblewick, the village where Marlene and Peter lived, didn’t have any Muggles. It was a small village, composed solely of wizarding families and magical shops. Peter hadn’t really considered that Muggles would have such different lives. He often imagined them as having magical things that just didn’t act in magical ways, like chocolate frogs that didn’t jump.

Remus had lived a strange life. Muggleborns lived without magic simply because they had no knowledge of it, but Remus was a wizard, at least a halfblood if not a pureblood. They hadn’t quite got on to discussing heritage yet, too afraid of what purist spiel Sirius might casually use next. Remus could’ve had magic in his life, but for some reason he didn’t. That confused Peter a great deal.

“Just to clarify, none of you have ever had a chocolate bar?” Remus was sitting up now, looking between them with a furrowed brow.

All three boys shook their heads. Remus began to mutter under his breath, as though working out a problem in his head. Peter couldn’t see what was so confusing about their lack of chocolate bar eating. Surely it didn’t taste much different in bar form.

“And would you say that goes for most wizards?” Remus asked, looking at James.

“All of the purebloods at least,” James nodded. “You’ve got me interested now. What, I’d do for a Kat-Kat!”

Remus muttered something else quietly as McGonnagall finished the lesson. James and Sirius hadn’t heard him, but Peter had. As they packed their things away and went off to Charms, Peter began to wonder what Remus had meant when he said:

“And I wonder how much you’d pay.”

Chapter Text

Sunday 31st October 1971

The operation had been very easy to set up. Remus already had a lot of chocolate in his trunk, because he couldn’t really function without a little sweet treat. They were also reminders of home, a comforting richness in the confusing world he was in.

He had written to his father to ask for more chocolate bars, different kinds, making something up about sharing with his friends. It wasn’t a complete lie; he would be sharing the chocolate bars, just not for free. Hopefully, Lyall wouldn’t ask any questions.

In their last Transfiguration lesson, James had accidentally helped Remus stumble upon an untapped market. Wizards had no knowledge of the world Remus had grown up in, the Muggle world. If Sirius and James’ interest was anything to go by, he had stumbled upon a gold mine.

Remus didn’t know when it had started, but he rather enjoyed making money. There weren’t many ways to do it in their small village, but Remus had managed quite well.

In his earlier years of primary school, he had simply swapped his snacks for others by exaggerating how nice carrot sticks were. Later on, he would do anyone’s spelling homework for them, as long as they gave him 50p for doing it. He had managed to change his handwriting enough for it to be a largely undetectable and successful scheme.

And now he had another one: sweets. Halloween was the perfect time. He planned to start with the trusting younger years, and then to ambush any drunk party goers returning from the Hufflepuff party. Remus had found that drunk people were often more inclined to let you keep the change, something he’d learned from running to the corner shop for the patrons of his local pub.

Remus had built a customer base the previous day. He had offered a few of his lower value chocolate bars (plain Cadbury Dairy Milk bars mostly) to a few students for just a Knut. He had watched their excitement as they tasted the foreign treat. He had jokingly reminded them to tell their friends.

They had.

He set up camp in the Gryffindor common room while Sirius and James were serving detention for “accidentally” tripping Snape up twelve consecutive times in a single Potions lesson. If it had been Remus, he would’ve done it in Charms or History of Magic. Any lesson not taught by Snape’s head of year.

Peter was busy in their dorm with their latest Transfiguration assignment, and Remus was confident that he wouldn't be resurfacing. That was good: Remus didn’t want to share any of his profits.

Making money made Remus feel in control, a rare sensation for the boy. He wasn’t exploiting people, not really, especially if they were willing to pay double the market price. He was helping these students, allowing them to taste the wonders of Muggle chocolate. He was a philanthropist really.

He had done a few conversions, and had calculated his prices accordingly. A two pence Mars bar was now five Knuts, nearly double the price. Remus had to make his profit somewhere. Besides, he’d use it to buy wonderful Christmas presents for his father and his friends. Sirius’ birthday was soon too, and Remus wasn’t entirely sure what he would like.

Sirius was confusing. He was extremely posh, sounding like someone from the royal family, and everything he said sounded straight out of a book. He also managed to say a lot of the wrong things, judging from the amount of “talks” he’s had with James. Remus didn’t mind; it actually helped him to figure out more about the world.

Perhaps he could give Sirius chocolate for his birthday. Remus would love chocolate for any occasion, and he already had a plentiful supply to share with Sirius. He wouldn’t charge him, of course.

“Excuse me, are you Remus Lupin?”

Remus looked up to see a wide eyed second year stood next to him. It felt strange that his first customer was older than him, but perhaps he had underestimated the success of his plan.

Wordlessly, he opened the box on his lap, placing it on the table typically used for chess. He’d chosen to sit in the corner of the common room, because he didn’t think Professor McGonnagall would approve of his operations that much.

The girl looked over the shiny wrappers, and she didn’t even question the inky marks where Remus had crossed out the Muggle prices. Her eyes were like saucers as she looked over her options, and Remus could smell the metallic coins in her hand.

“I’ve never had Muggle chocolate before,” she said, hand twitching. “What’s best?”

“What do you like?” Remus smirked.

He was in business.

***

By the time he went to bed, Remus’ box was empty of chocolate bars and full of coins. It was rather too heavy to carry, and he made sure to stash it right under his bed where no one would find it. Not that any of his dormmates seemed to need money. Remus didn’t exactly need the amount of money he’d made in one night, but the sheer knowledge that he could do it had him buzzing.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He wondered if he was supposed to feel a little guilty at this point. He had increased his prices with every new customer, claiming “supply and demand” if anyone inquired as to why the Caramacs were suddenly two Sickles.

The drunk older students had been his best customers. He’d even managed to fool a few Muggleborns, who seemed overwhelmingly confused as to why they were paying so much for a Kit-Kat, but did so nonetheless.

Remus wondered how he could expand his operation. He could move into crisps maybe, or other Muggle goods. A rather inebriated-looking sixth year had threatened him about moving into the cigarette and booze market, which he had apparently claimed for himself in his third year. Remus assured the boy that his business was secure; he couldn’t convince his dad to post him cigarettes.

A dramatic slam of the door signalled James and Sirius’ return from detention. The Hogwarts staff seemed intent on having detentions at night, and Remus was sure that it violated some regulations. He had managed to dodge detention after the whoopee cushion prank, and he wasn’t keen to have one.

All in all, Remus was doing far better at Hogwarts than he had anticipated. At primary school, he had done decently well. Here, Remus was top of the class in most lessons, and he had a rather profitable business. Even if he was terrible at flying, Remus’ first two months at Hogwarts were going well.

The October full moon had gone better than the first too, as Madam Pomfrey had got him into the Shack before the sun set. There was a complicated array of tunnels to get there, as well as batting the Whomping Willow, but Remus would walk miles if he never had to Apparate again.

“Lupin, you awake?”

Sirius didn’t wait for confirmation. He pulled back Remus’ bed curtains, standing over him with a smirk. Remus hated when Sirius smirked, like he knew something that Remus didn’t. He slid further under his covers.

“What?” Remus grumbled, pulling the duvet up to his chin. “Come to watch me sleep? Bloody poof.”

“I’ve simply come to ask why there’s a very drunk group of seventh year girls asking for you,” Sirius whispered, sitting on Remus’ bed as though he had the right. “Never pegged you as a Casanova, Lupin, but it seems like you're a right ladies man.”

“Shut up,” Remus hissed, rolling over so he didn’t have to see Sirius’ stupid smirk anymore. “Tell them I’m out of stock and to come back in a few days.”

“Out of what?”

“Not telling you.”

Sirius huffed as he stood up. Remus listened, waiting for him to close the bed curtains so Remus could go back to his scheming in peace. He didn’t.

Remus rolled over, looking up at Sirius. “Why are you standing over me like that? It’s creepy!”

“Because I want to know what you’re up to,” Sirius pouted, looking as though he was going to sit back on Remus’ bed before Remus scowled at him. “We’re supposed to be mates, Lupin. You can’t go around having secrets.”

“If only you knew,” Remus muttered under his breath.

Sirius frowned, and for a moment, Remus thought he was going to call him out. He didn’t know what he would do if someone actually asked him about his secret, if he’d be able to come up with a lie on the spot. His new friends were observant boys, but surely they hadn’t caught him out after two months!

Clearing his throat, Remus attempted to change the subject. “Why do you all call me Lupin anyway? Don’t you wizards use first names?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius said, looking as though he was really pondering it. “Guess it’s just a friend thing, only I call Snape by his last name too. Huh. Maybe it is a wizard thing.”

“Well, when you have an answer, you can tell me in the morning,” Remus sighed, lying back down in bed. “Until then, shut the curtains and let me sleep.”

“Goodnight, Remus.”

“‘M not saying goodnight back, you freak,” Remus huffed, closing his eyes.

Chapter Text

Wednesday 3rd November 1971

He knew it had been too good to be true. Sirius inwardly cursed himself that he had ever dared to wonder why his parents hadn’t sent him a letter or any kind of correspondence since he had been at Hogwarts. He should’ve just been grateful for their silence.

Hogwarts seemed to be an oasis, where his family’s teachings couldn’t touch him. Sirius had already had to unlearn many words that he hadn’t known were slurs or insults, and he was fully welcomed into Gryffindor house by now. People had even stopped referring to him as the Black Heir. At Hogwarts, Sirius could just be Sirius.

His birthday had been good to start with. James had gifted him a Beatles album after discovering Sirius’ obsession with Muggle music, caused by his cousin Andromeda, a fellow Black family black sheep. Remus and Peter had given him an array of Muggle chocolates to try. Although Sirius suspected Remus had done most of the purchasing, he was still grateful and thanked them both.

At breakfast, an owl had dropped the envelope into his lap. Remus received several packages wrapped in brown paper, much to the delight of a group of third year Hufflepuffs who were already trying to talk to him. Remus’ cheeks had turned quite pink.

Sirius looked at the letter, eyes trailing over the sloping cursive letters in deep black ink. He knew who it was from, and there was no way that he was opening it in front of anyone. James raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Sirius slid the letter into the pocket of his robes.

He didn’t really fancy breakfast after that. Remus was more than happy to scoop the remainder of Sirius’ eggs off his plate; the boy ate like some sort of animal. Hogwarts food wasn’t excellent, and Sirius was sorely missing the Halloween feast, but Remus would vacuum up anything that graced his plate.

As they trailed off to lessons, James walked with Sirius. They were hanging back a little as Remus and Peter walked ahead, determined to get to Defence Against the Dark Arts on time. Remus was always a little bit of a swot, but he seemed to have taken Peter under his wing. Sirius would have to start trying in his lessons now, unable to just get by on his years of tutoring.

James bumped his shoulder against Sirius’, causing him to look up. Sirius immediately wished he hadn’t. James had a soft sort of look on his face, like he wanted to talk about feelings.

“Who’s the letter from, mate?”

“No one,” Sirius mumbled, kicking his shoe against the ground and almost tripping over a cobblestone. “I haven’t opened it yet, how would I know who it’s from? It’s probably just a birthday card, from one of our adoring fans or someone.”

“Sirius,” James said, managing to pack a lot of meaning into the single word.

James was too nice. Sirius hadn’t minded being stroppy at home with Regulus, because he was also a whiny little prick. Perhaps it was a Black family trait. James always wanted to talk about reasons behind why Sirius was feeling something, and he’d managed to pick up on Sirius’ distrust for his family’s practices almost immediately.

He couldn’t lie to James. He hadn’t tried it yet, but each time he thought about it, Sirius couldn’t imagine himself lying. James would probably believe him too, the trusting idiot. He understood Sirius too well, always knowing when to joke or when to be serious. James was his best friend, Sirius thought in that moment, and best friends told the truth.

“It’s from my mother,” Sirius said quietly as they sat down in the DADA classroom. “She writes her B’s in this fancy way, gives them a tail.”

James nodded, somehow sensing that Sirius didn’t really want to explain much now. “Well, we’ve got a free period next. Lupin wants to drag Peter to the library so they can work on the Potions homework, so you’ll have the dorm to yourself if you want to read the letter. Then we can talk about it, or not talk about it, whichever you like. It’s your birthday after all.”

“You’re too emotionally intelligent, Potter,” Sirius smiled, shaking his head. “The girls will be all over you when they catch wind of your incredible empathy.”

“Tosser.” James kicked Sirius’ shin under the table, and all was well again.

***

Only it really wasn’t. Sirius sat on his bed, curtains drawn. He’d read the letter ten times already, and if he read it again, he might be sick. But he couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing over his mother’s familiar script once more.

Dear Sirius Orion Black,

Your father and I have been informed of your sorting into Gryffindor House. We have also been informed that you, the Heir to our Noble House, have done nothing to correct this obvious mistake. You were raised to be proactive, to take control of the situation.
Do you enjoy it there? Sleeping next to Mudbloods and blood traitors? You should know that there will be nothing arranged for your birthday this year, and we hope that you are gifted intelligence by some divine force.
This behaviour must improve, Sirius. You are now twelve years of age, not a child. If you wish to come home for Christmas and see your brother, I trust that you will be in your correct house by December.

Walburga Black.

She had exploited every angle. Bringing up Regulus, mentioning that Sirius might not be able to see his own brother, it was all a twisted power move and Sirius knew it. He also knew he was powerless to stop it.

Sirius didn’t realise he was crying until a tear dropped onto the parchment, blurring the black ink of the word brother. His bed curtains shifted a bit as James went to open them, then stopped.

“Can I come in, mate?” came James’ voice. His stupid kind voice. “You’ve been in there an awful long time, and well, I can hear you sniffling.”

“Fuck off, Potter.” Sirius wiped his nose on the back of his hand as he pushed open the curtains with the other.

James looked rather distraught too, his glasses slightly fogged up. He sat down opposite Sirius on his bed, folding his hands in his lap.

Unsure as to why he wanted James to read it so badly, Sirius tossed the letter to him, trading it for a handkerchief. As Sirius wiped his eyes and blew his nose loudly, he watched the horror spread across James’ usually happy features. There was silence in the dorm as James read until he folded the letter in half with great fervour.

“What a bitch,” he said with a frown.

Surprised, Sirius snorted out a wet laugh. James’ bronze skin turned pink and his hand shot to cover his mouth. Only, he was laughing too.

“Shit, sorry,” he coughed. “I know she’s your mum, but come on! Bringing your brother into it, threatening you– she’s a massive bitch! She used your full name, and hers too, like she didn’t literally birth you!”

Sirius was cackling at this point. He didn’t even notice when the letter flew off the bed, floating in the air for a brief moment before landing on the floor. Where it belonged, Sirius thought, before he could return it to its true home in the bin.

“I’ll cheer you up, mate,” James said, removing his glasses to wipe his tears of laughter. “You can’t be mopey and sad on your birthday! A good prank will sort you out, and I think we ought to get back at Flitwick.”

“For what?” Sirius wheezed, his sides beginning to hurt from this much laughter.

“Ravenclaw may not be our rival house, but we can’t let anyone doubt that Gryffindor is on top!”

James followed this declaration by standing up and jumping on Sirius’ bed while chanting, “We are Gryffindor, the mighty, mighty Gryffindor!” He looked as though he was having so much fun that Sirius couldn’t help but start jumping and chanting along with him.

That was the moment that Remus and Peter came back from the library. The shock on their faces (and disappointment in Remus’ case) were enough to send James and Sirius collapsing into another fit of giggles.

***

The prank was James’ idea, but they were entirely reliant on Remus’ knowledge. He had read a ridiculous amount of books in their first few months at Hogwarts, and could somehow recall nearly anything he’d seen. Bloody swot.

Gathering the frogs up had been the hard part. Flitwick kept the choir frogs along with the other creatures, most owned by the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Dresden. It would’ve been impossible for the boys to sneak all of the choir frogs out without disturbing the other creatures and alerting Dresden.

That was when James had pulled out the most incredible thing Sirius had ever seen. A real Invisibility Cloak. Not some cheap knock off with illusion charms cast on it, the real thing! When James had put it on, he had completely vanished and there wasn’t even a shadow to signal that he was there at all. Remus’ jaw had dropped so suddenly that it practically unhinged.

All four of them could fit beneath it, yet Peter chose to stand as look out. Or rather, Sirius had told him to. They couldn’t risk someone coming in and seeing an arm floating in the middle of the room, pinching the choir frogs. It would scar that person for life, or at least get James’ Invisibility Cloak taken away.

They managed to get the frogs under the cloak with little effort, but Remus cast a silencing charm after a few minutes because he couldn’t deal with all the croaking. Peter walked back to the dorm, seemingly by himself, while Sirius and the others giggled under the cloak, holding frog cages.

Once they were in the dorm, they placed the three carriers onto Peter’s bed, despite his protests. There were six frogs in each, one for each member of the Hogwarts choir. James and Sirius bounced up and down while Remus prepared to cast the spell.

“What are we making them sing then?” he sighed, reading over his notes on the incantation. “I have to specify when I cast the spell.”

“Well, we’re cheering up Sirius,” James said, tapping his chin. “The Beatles! That’s what I bought you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Abbey Road!” Sirius clasped his hands together in a begging motion. “Make them sing Abbey Road, Remus!”

Rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath, Remus turned towards the frogs. He took a deep breath, as though he couldn’t really believe they’d convinced him to do this. Then, he waved his wands over the frogs, who were hopping over one another obliviously.

“Solum Cantare Abbey Road!”

At first, there was nothing. Then, one of the frogs began to sing Come Together in a baritone, and soon all of them had joined in. Sirius couldn’t help but burst out laughing, squeezing James’ side.

“This is the best birthday present ever!”

It was the gift that kept on giving. They released the frogs into Hogwarts, and soon they were everywhere. Somehow, they all managed to keep in time no matter where in the castle they’d gotten to, going through the Abbey Road album in order and then starting again from the top.

It took Flitwick and the choir students hours to wrangle them all up, and Sirius had heard every song at least four times by then. I Want You (She’s So Heavy) was his favourite, because the guitar made him want to dance in that ridiculous way Ted had when Andromeda first bought this album. Sirius had begged her to let him keep it, but Andromeda was territorial of her records. Now, thanks to James, he had his own copy and the frog version.

Best of all, Sirius had seen Gideon Prewett dancing wildly to Octopus’s Garden, swinging his hips and waving his arms about. It was an exhilarating feeling to witness him enjoying their prank. Gideon noticed Sirius, waving him over.

“This you lot?” he asked.

Sirius couldn’t stop nodding. “Yeah, it was us! I love the Beatles!”

“Me too. Don’t worry, I won’t tell McGonnagall it was you.” Gideon winked over his shoulder as he walked away.

It felt as though electricity was running through Sirius’ body. The entire day had been overwhelming, his most overwhelming birthday yet, but interacting with Gideon Prewett had sealed the deal. It was the best birthday ever.

Chapter Text

Sunday 14th November 1971

“We need a team name,” Sirius said, breaking the silence in the dormitory.

James lifted his head from where he had been attempting a History of Magic essay for the past hour. It wasn’t difficult, not really, but he found the subject impossibly boring. He was also too proud to ask for Remus’ help, unlike Peter and Sirius.

The two boys were almost solely reliant on Remus for their school work, always borrowing his notes and asking him to estimate what mark they would get for their essays. Remus didn’t seem to mind too much, but he was always muttering something under his breath. James was yet to catch a word.

“A team name?” Remus sighed, lifting his head from his book.

He was always sighing about something. Remus reminded James of Fleamont Potter, who was always complaining about his bones aching or his back hurting. James found it funny, but he didn’t like to think about how much older his parents were than Peter’s or Marlene’s were.

Now, Remus looked burdened to have his reading disrupted. Recreational reading. James had no idea why someone would torture themselves with more reading than was required. He had read all of the assigned texts, of course, but he wouldn’t pick up a book for fun. He had Quidditch for that.

“Well, we’ve done two pranks now,” Sirius said, sitting upright on his bed. “People ought to have something to call us, so they know who’s done it.”

“They could just call us our names,” Peter suggested, clearly trying to be helpful.

James stood up from the floor, his preferred working space, dusting off his robes. They really ought to pick up their things so that the house elves could properly clean the carpet. Remus was the messiest of them all.

Crossing the room, James joined Sirius on his bed. Originally, he’d thought that he wouldn’t much like someone being on his bed, in his space. But, since the letter had arrived from Sirius’ mother, he went in Sirius’ bed most evenings to talk, or Sirius came into his. They had talked about nearly everything, and James felt as though he knew Sirius better than anyone else had ever known the boy.

“I agree with Sirius,” James said. “If it’s Gideon and Fabian, people can say it was the Prewett twins. Saying James, Sirius, Peter and Remus just takes too much time. We need a team name.”

“If I’m going to be associated with this ‘team’,” Remus said, making air quotes. “It better be called something cool. Nothing that makes us sound like posh twats.”

“You’re not a posh twat, Remus, you have an accent,” Sirius smirked, earning a middle finger from Remus. “Now, it should be something like the Beatles, and it has to show our excellent pranking abilities. Something dangerous. Like the Pirates!”

“No chance,” said Remus, looking physically pained at the prospect.

“The Buccaneers?” James suggested.

“Nope.”

“The Bandits?” Sirius tried.

“How many bloody synonyms do you know?”

“How about the Marauders?” Peter said quietly, like he wasn’t quite sure if he’d given the right answer.

“That’s… actually not bad,” Remus hummed, returning to his reading seemingly satisfied.

“It’s cool!” James nodded.

He stood from the bed, pacing. The Marauders. It sounded like a band name, like Sirius had said. It made them sound cool, dangerous even. James wondered if they should all get matching t-shirts with The Marauders on them, but he didn’t suggest it.

“We should get t-shirts,” Sirius said.

“I just thought that!”

***

Saturday 20th November 1971

The Gryffindor Quidditch team was phenomenal. James had been to see Puddlemere United a few times with his dad, and he thought that the Gryffindor team were almost as good. They’d be even better if he was on the team.

James had been flying since he could walk, zig-zagging around the Potter estate. Despite Peter and Marlene’s dramatic recollection, he had only sort of flown into a tree, and it had only been one time. He could do all sorts of tricks, and he could beat anyone in a race.

He had already missed the try outs in October, knowing that they wouldn’t let a first year onto the team. There hadn’t been a first year student on any Quidditch team for years. James had planned to try his luck next year. He watched every practice and every match, even the Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff ones.

Every weekend he would train for when he had his time to shine. He was going to be Quidditch Captain by the time he finished Hogwarts, he just knew it. He was also going to be the best Chaser they’d ever seen.

Today, he’d gone out onto the Quidditch pitch just a little earlier than usual, assuming no one would be awake yet. He liked waking up before everyone else, before the other Marauders had even begun to stir.

He was faced with the sight of the Gryffindor team running drills, observed by Quidditch Captain Bodhi Rune and Professor McGonnagall. So, he wasn’t alone afterall. James felt a sense of pride that the team all woke up as early as he did. It was like he was already part of the team.

The drill seemed simple enough, just flying about and tossing the Quaffle back and forth. Watching for a few moments, James concluded that he could do it in his sleep.

That was when James had a very bad idea. Though he knew it was a bad idea, James did what he always did when he thought of doing something he probably shouldn’t: he imagined his mum telling him off. Like always, it wasn’t scary enough and James did it anyway.

His Nimbus 1500 soared into the air, joining the players already in the sky. He was faster than all of them, more agile too. After they got over their initial surprise, the other players seemed impressed with James’ skill.

He couldn’t resist showing off. He’d learnt a trick over the summer, a complicated mix of rolls and turns and dives patented by the Puddlemere United Chaser. James had done it a million times until he perfected it, and then a million more after that. Marlene and Peter had gotten quite annoyed.

Breathing deeply, James began the sequence. He knew it like the back of his hand, could do it with his eyes closed. The sounds of surprise and approval from the players only spurred him on, and he began to spin even faster.

Next was a dive, spiralling downward until at the last moment he pulled up. James’ ego inflated as he heard someone gasp. He began to flip over, spinning rapidly.

He must’ve miscalculated by a foot or two, because James managed to fly headfirst into the stands, coming to a thudding halt as he hit his head against the bench.

“Mr Potter!”

“Oh fuck,” James breathed. McGonnagall was coming for him.

***

James had only been given detention for the day, after a lot of scolding from McGonnagall. All day, he waited for the true punishment. She was making him sweat, he knew it.

He wondered if she would take away his broom. There had to be rules against that. His Nimbus 1500 was his pride and joy, a gift from his parents last Christmas. He polished it every Sunday, and it looked brand new. It was the fastest broom on the market too, and the thought of McGonnagall snatching it away made James feel sick.

The other Marauders had found the story hilarious. It was potentially the first time James had ever seen Remus belly laugh, right before he called him an egotistical prat. Peter had managed to spill ink all over his Charms homework. James didn’t find it funny at all.

At dinner, he could barely eat. James kept looking up at the teachers’ table, and every time, McGonnagall was looking at him. She’d whisper to another teacher and James would look right back down at his plate.

“Come on, mate,” Sirius said, bumping his shoulder against James’. “We’re sorry for laughing, we really are.”

“It’s not that,” James whined, not caring that his ‘woe is me’ attitude was amusing Remus severely. “I just know she’s got something else up her sleeve. Getting bollocked and one detention is not McGonnagall style.”

“‘Course it is, she bollocks us all the time,” said Remus, who had given up on not taking ownership for their pranks and therefore begun to experience McGonnagall’s wrath.

“But she’s hiding something!”

James’ outburst earned him a few startled looks from the Gryffindor table, including from Marlene. James hadn’t seen Marlene much recently. She’d been spending less time with James and Peter and more time with the other Gryffindor girls. She still joined him on a fly every Sunday, because she was the only other person awake when James got up, but it felt as though they were drifting apart.

He couldn’t wait for Christmas. Like always, it would be just him, Peter and Marlene. They’d have a snowman building contest, and Marlene would win again because they always got James’ mom to judge and she liked Marlene the most.

A hush fell over the Great Hall as Dumbledore stood up. All eyes turned towards the teachers’ table, but James was just glad that it wasn’t McGonnagall, ready to deliver his public punishment.

“I have some news surrounding a new rule,” Dumbledore began in his austere voice. “Due to a variety of incidents, we have concluded that first years will no longer be permitted to bring their own brooms to Hogwarts after Christmas.”

“Shit,” James breathed.

“Please post your broomsticks home, or take them with you at Christmas break. Starting from tomorrow, any first year that is seen riding a broomstick will face detention and its confiscation. Thank you.”

The Great Hall was completely silent as Dumbledore sat down, as though no one could believe that he’d done that. No one started to eat again, no one said a word. However, no one knew that James was connected to it at all.

That was until Sirius decided to yell. “James, what the fuck!”

All eyes turned towards James, who was attempting to hide by shovelling mash potato into his mouth at an alarming rate. It didn’t work, and the whispers were already beginning. So much for the Marauder reputation.

“Sirius!” James exclaimed, trying to choke down the mash potato.

“I’m sorry, but come on!” Sirius patted him on the back. “This is your fault, clearly.”

“Say it a little louder, I don’t think everyone heard you.”

“This is Jam–”

“Shut up, you two!” Remus snapped, kicking them both in the shins.

James put his hand down from where he had been about to slap Sirius. They would beat the shit out of each other later, in their dormitory where James wouldn’t be embarrassed any further. And where Remus couldn’t tell them off.

Chapter Text

Saturday 18th December 1971

Christmas break was approaching and the weather began to reflect that. Peter had awoken to snow being sprinkled over him. At first he had been confused, until he saw James standing above him with a bowl of snow in his hand. Sirius was leaning out the window to collect more snow, likely to give Remus the same treatment.

Only Remus was fast asleep, completely unaware as Sirius tip-toed across the room. He dramatically pressed a finger to his lips, but James’ giggles were anything but quiet.

Peter wanted to be angry, to complain that his pillow was now slightly damp, to whine about the icy water running down the neck of his pyjamas. Then Remus shot up straight in bed, wearing nothing but his pants and slapped Sirius across the face. All any of them could do was laugh.

“Lupin, why are you naked?” James snorted, clutching his side as he laughed.

“I don’t like to be warm when I sleep.” Remus wiped the snow from his eyes; Sirius had just dumped the entire bowl on him instead of sprinkling like James. “And I’m not naked, I have underwear on. Besides, I wasn’t expecting some idiot to bring the snow inside, let alone onto my bed!”

Sirius, who was already hanging out of the window to collect more snow, almost fell out as he cackled. He didn’t seem to mind at all that Remus’ first reaction had been to slap him in the face.

Peter dragged himself out of bed, ignoring the icy stream of water running down his spine. He shivered a bit, then ran to the window.

Snow at Hogwarts was beautiful. The entire castle looked as though its towers had been dusted with sugar, like something out of a painting. The Quidditch pitch and the grounds were all a stark white that reflected the early morning sun back at them. Even the Forbidden Forest looked a little less forbidden with a sprinkling of snow over the treetops.

Most of all, it meant Christmas was coming. It was on a Saturday this year, so they were allowed to go home on the Thursday before. Peter had counted on his calendar and that meant ten whole days with just James and Marlene to himself.

They always spent Christmas Day at their own houses, but the rest of the Christmas break was spent at the Potter’s. They’d be there all day until it got dark, and Peter only had to be home by the time the streetlights came on. They’d build snowmen, and race sledges, and decorate the Potter’s house with their own handmade decorations. Euphemia never threw them away, and every year they made more.

Peter had been a little worried that James would invite Sirius and Remus too, that they would encroach on their time honoured tradition. It was routine, and Peter liked routines. But Sirius was remanded to Hogwarts by his parents for a reason he wouldn’t share, and Remus was going home to Wales.

When Remus had told them so, it had been the first time Peter actually knew where he was from. He was terrible with placing where accents came from, but Remus’ accent seemed to float around Britain at will.

James and Sirius were somehow already fully dressed, hats and scarves and all. Peter dressed quickly, wrapping himself up warm, but not too warm. He never wore gloves, because there was something about having warm hands that unsettled Peter.

Remus wasn’t even out of bed yet, grumbling as he pulled the covers over his head. Peter had learned that unlike James who woke up before the sun half the time, Remus was not a morning person. He almost missed breakfast most days, and rarely seemed fully awake before lunch. Peter and Sirius were in the middle, waking up at a normal time. So they did have something in common, Peter thought.

“Up and at ‘em, boys!”

James was clapping his hands at them now, channelling his inner Bodhi Rune. He had grown more intense in his observation of the Gryffindor Quidditch team since he could no longer fly his broom, and Peter was growing rather irritated. He couldn’t imagine how bad it would be when James was actually on the team.

Peter didn’t mind Quidditch, but he wasn’t obsessed with it like James and Marlene. He knew that they enjoyed it, so he made sure to check the outcomes of Puddlemere United or the Kenmare Kestrels’ games and to throw a statistic or two into the conversation.

He pulled his hat on, hoping they were just overdressed for breakfast and not planning to go outside yet. Remus wouldn’t go anywhere without the promise of a meal, and he was ghastly when he hadn’t eaten.

“Oh, let’s just leave Remus behind!” Sirius threw his arms up in exasperation. “We’ll go see the snow, then we’ll see him at breakfast.”

“We’re not going straight to breakfast?”

“‘Course not, Pete!”

***

By the time lessons were over, Remus had become a functioning member of society again and began to get excited about the snow too. Peter, who had already had around six thousand snowballs dumped down the back of his robes, was getting a little sick of it.

He knew when they were whispering in Charms that they were plotting something. James had tapped him on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper the plan into his ear.

It was a ridiculous plan.

It required an insane amount of effort, which Peter only realised when they were sitting in the courtyard, individually shaping snowballs and piling them up. Remus had worked out a spell that kept them in the round shape, but he hadn’t found one that would just make the snowballs for them.

His hands were numb as he shaped a handful of snow into a spherical shape. His fingers were beginning to turn purple, but there was no way he was putting gloves on and suffering the feeling of clammy hands.

“This is hard labour,” Peter grumbled as his snowball fell apart before Remus could charm it.

“Stop whining, Pete,” James chuckled, somehow making another perfect snowball. “If you’d worn gloves, it would be a lot easier and you wouldn’t be so cold.”

“Both of you need to hurry up,” Sirius said, standing by an impressive pile of snowballs. “Clearly, I’m just as proficient at snowball crafting as I am at everything else.”

“I made half of those,” Remus muttered, waving his wand over Peter’s snowball and adding it to the pile.

They must’ve made about a hundred by the time people started streaming out into the courtyard. They ducked behind the bench, crouching down so as to not be seen.

It would’ve been fun just to cast the spell now, to surprise the unsuspecting students in front of them. But the Marauders had a few targets in mind, and they were going to get them. Peter could hardly wait.

But he did. Their targets didn’t seem to want to show up, even though Peter knew they had to cross the courtyard to get to their common room. James and Sirius treated pranking like a covert operation, and they had mapped out the movements of potential targets so they knew where they’d be and when. Perhaps they knew the boys were there, and somehow knew about their prank already.

They didn’t. Snape appeared, stepping out into the courtyard along with Mulciber and a few other Slytherins. Peter could feel James shaking with laughter next to him, and he elbowed him so he’d keep quiet. They were unsuspecting, holding their books and chattering with matching scowls.

Sirius counted down, mouthing at the Marauders. They readied their wands, just as Snape seemed to notice the piles of snowballs. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was too late.

“Impetum iaculatio!”

The snowballs rose in the air, hovering for a moment. Peter wondered if Remus had gotten the spell wrong, if they’d just performed some strange version of the Levitation charm.

Then the snowballs were thrust forward, finding their targets and beginning to pummel the Slytherins. It was a regimented attack, each layer of the pile rising up before striking forward. Snape batted it away, trying to stop the onslaught of snowballs to no avail.

Peter squeaked out a laugh when a snowball threw itself down the back of Mulciber’s robes, causing him to squirm and writhe as it melted. He looked as though he was performing a rather fervent jig.

Sirius had completely doubled over, unable to even watch as he curled into a shaking, laughing ball. Chuckling himself, Peter reached out to stop Sirius from rolling into the snowy bushes.

“Look at him snivelling!” James whispered, stifling his laugh into his scarf. “Snivellus Snape!”

That sent all four of them into another fit of giggles, and Peter was surprised that no one had noticed where they were yet. They didn’t even need James’ Invisibility Cloak. Hiding behind a bench has rendered them invisible to a flailing Snape and his shrieking companions.

“Who did this?” Snape shrieked, sounding like a girl. “Potter, Black, I know this was you!”

James stood up with a wide grin, and Sirius followed. Peter supposed he ought to stand up with them and did, but Remus stayed firmly sat down. The three boys looked down at him, and after muttering under his breath that was probably sarcastic and extremely offensive, Remus stood too.

They probably looked like right idiots, standing in a line watching Snape and his friends get pummelled by snowballs, but in that moment, they felt as though they were on top of the world. Peter felt like he was on top of the world, like this tight unit could rule Hogwarts.

“It’s the Marauders, actually,” Sirius said. “Learn the name, Snivellus.”