the cat’s out of the bag

"Fucking hell."

The words hang in the crisp October air, carried off by the first golden streaks of dawn breaking through the Forbidden Forest. James Potter runs a hand through his already wild hair, his glasses slipping down his nose as he stares at the lifeless heap in the dirt before them.  

A cat.  

A very, very dead cat.  

Its grey fur is matted with dirt, its limbs stiff, frozen in the most undignified pose imaginable— one leg twisted awkwardly and its mouth slightly open, revealing tiny, pointy teeth. 

Peter Pettigrew shifts uncomfortably beside him, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his robes as though that alone will save him from whatever hell they've just walked into. "Is it— er— is it dead?"  

Sirius Black exhales sharply, his breath curling in the cold wind. His grey eyes are heavy-lidded with exhaustion due to their usual full-moon shenanigans, but the beginnings of a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth despite the situation. "No, Wormtail, it's just having a fucking nap." He lifts a boot-clad foot and gives the cat an experimental nudge. It does not move. He nudges it harder. Still nothing. "Yeah, it's dead."  

James groans and rubs his hands over his face. "Oh, this is bad."  

Sirius scoffs. "It's just a cat, Prongs."  

James rounds on him. "Well, we don't know whose it is, do we? What if it's— what if it's McGonagall?"  

Peter makes an actual choking sound. "Oh, Christ. We’ve killed McGonagall."  

Sirius stares at him in pure disbelief. "Are you stupid? If McGonagall died, do you think she'd go out like this? Still in cat form, rotting away in the dirt, stiff as a fucking board?" He gestures dramatically to the corpse. "Have some respect."  

Peter swallows. "Right. Yeah. Of course." He pauses, hesitant. "But... we're sure it's not, though, right?"  

James lets out a deep breath, running both hands through his hair. "Sirius' right. It's not. She's probably in her office right now, alive and well, wondering why we're standing around someone's dead cat like a bunch of lunatics."  

"That's assuming it even belongs to anyone," Sirius says, nudging the cat again with his boot. "For all we know, it's just some random stray."  

"Or it could belong to a student," James counters.  

Peter visibly pales. "And if someone finds out it was Remus—"  

Sirius throws his hands up. "Oh, for fuck's sake, it wasn't Remus!"  

James and Peter both give him a look.  

Sirius groans, scratching his chin. "Alright, fine, maybe it was Remus, but does he need to know that? Do you know what he'll be like?" He clears his throat and puts on a ridiculous high-pitched voice: "Oh, I'm a monster, I need to exile myself to the forest forever, I can never show my face again!" He drops the impression and waves a hand dismissively. "He'll be beside himself. It'll be insufferable."  

James pinches the bridge of his nose. "He's our friend, Pads."  

"And friends don't let friends wallow in misery over some hideous cat," Sirius argues, jabbing a finger at the corpse.  

Peter flinches. "Please stop pointing at it."  

Sirius smirks. "What, you scared it's gonna come back to life and haunt you?" He wiggles his fingers ominously. "Oooooo, Wormtail, you killed meeeeee!"

Peter glares at him, his face scrunching in disgust. "We did not kill it!"  

Sirius shrugs. "Guilty by association."  

James, ignoring the pair of them, crouches down, squinting at the cat's stiffened form. Slowly, he reaches out, hesitating briefly before nudging the cat's collar. His eyes widen. "Ah, shit."  

Peter immediately panics. "What?"

James looks up at them, grim. "It has a name tag."  

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, Sirius kisses his teeth. "Yikes." 

Peter makes a panicked noise, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "This is worse. This is so much worse!"  

James exhales sharply, looking back down at the little silver tag as though it's mocking him. "What if the owner's been looking for it?"  

"Well, they're going to be properly disappointed," Sirius mutters, choking down a laugh.  

Peter ignores him. "What does it say?"  

James squints at the tag, then frowns. "Whiskers."  

Sirius snorts. "Whiskers?"  

Peter gapes at him. "Show some respect."  

"For Whiskers?" Sirius shakes his head, unimpressed. "Sorry, but you can't name your cat Whiskers and then expect people to be sombre when it dies." 

James rises to his feet. "Okay, new plan. We get rid of the body. Sirius, grab the tail—"  

"Absolutely fucking not."  

James glares at him. "Padfoot—"  

"Nope."  

James' left eye twitches. "Oh, so you can maul a rat with your bare teeth, but touching a cat corpse is where you draw the line?"  

Sirius grins. "Correct."  

James groans and pulls out his wand. "Merlin, you're insufferable." He flicks his wand, and the cat levitates stiffly into the air, its limbs dangling grotesquely.  

Peter retches. "Oh, that's fucking vile."  

Sirius squints at it. "Yeah, that's worse."  

James swivels around to glare at them. "Would you rather carry it with your hands?"  

Sirius considers the offer. "Do we have gloves?"  

"Oh, for Godric's—" James lets the words die down on his lips as he faces forward once more. 

With that, they begin toward the forest, the cat floating eerily beside them. 

Peter glances around nervously. "You're sure no one's awake yet?"  

James nods, his grip tightening around his wand. "We checked before we left Remus."  

Sirius sighs dramatically. "Honestly, I don't know why we're bothering. It's not like there's some law against this."  

Peter gapes. "Covering up a murder? Yes, Sirius, there absolutely is!"  

James, still cringing as he struggles to keep the cat afloat, mutters, "Let's just hope it doesn't belong to someone important."  

Sirius plucks a leaf off a random tree, mumbling, "Worst case scenario, we find the owner and get them a new cat. A better cat. One with more personality, maybe."  

Peter groans. "You're both criminals."  

"And yet, here you are, aiding and abetting," Sirius replies cheerfully, flicking the leaf onto Peter's face.

James shakes his head, exasperated. "Just shut up and walk."  

Sirius sighs, linking his hands behind his head as they disappear into the trees. "I just think we should consider our options. What if this isn't an accident? What if it's a message? What if Remus has gone rogue?"  

James does not dignify that with a response.  

Sirius grins, nudging Peter. "Hey, maybe it's a conspiracy. Maybe Whiskers had enemies."  

Peter groans again, long and suffering. "I hate you so much."  

James stalks ahead, eyes darting around for a suitable hiding place— somewhere far enough that no one will find it, but close enough that they won't be stuck dragging a corpse across the entire bloody forest. The trees stretch tall and endless, their skeletal branches reaching toward the sky like bony fingers. The air is colder here, laced with the faint, earthy scent of damp moss and pine.   

Sirius and Peter trail behind, with Sirius dramatically stretching his arms, looking as though they are merely on a casual morning stroll. Peter, however, is still throwing nervous glances back at the castle like he expects McGonagall to burst out of the entrance at any moment, demanding to know why her students are lugging around a dead Whiskers.

Sirius sighs loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "Prongs, I am begging you. Pick a spot and put it in the dirt. We're not organizing a bloody funeral."  

James ignores him, scanning the underbrush."It has to be hidden. No one can find—" He takes a moment to grimace at the floating feline. "This."  

"Oh, yes," Sirius drawls. "Merlin forbid the great and noble Whiskers be discovered. Oh, the horror. The scandal."

Peter wrings his hands. "Even if we bury it, what if... What if something digs it up?"  

"Then it'll be nature's problem," Sirius says, unsympathetic. "Circle of life, and whatnot." 

They trudge deeper into the woods, the cat still bobbing lifelessly in the air beside them like some kind of horrific balloon. It drifts awkwardly with each step, its legs swaying and head lolling back and forth.  

Sirius, ever the mature one, jabs it lightly with his wand and watches in morbid fascination as it begins spinning around.  

Peter's eyes nearly bulge out of his head. "Stop that!"

Sirius only grins. "What? It's already dead."  

"Yes, and it's horrible," Peter barely manages to let out, being too busy trying to keep his dinner down.

They continue on, the only sounds being their feet crunching against the undergrowth and Peter's occasional distressed whimpers. The castle is far behind them now, and the deeper they go, the darker the trees become.  

Then, suddenly—  

James lets out a strangled noise and drops the cat.  

The corpse thuds to the ground in a grotesque heap, its stiff limbs sticking out at odd angles.  

Peter yelps. 

"What the fuck?" Sirius exclaims, his jaw dropping. "What was that?"  

James stares down at his hands as he gasps, "I can't do this."

Sirius squints at him. "I'm sorry, you what?"  

James takes a shaky step back. "I can't— I can't just dispose of a body like this. It's—" He swallows hard. "It's wrong."

Peter gapes at him. "James, we're so far past wrong it's not even funny."

Sirius, who has dealt with a great many of James Potter's dramatics in the years of their friendship, tilts his head, struggling to process what has just been uttered. Then, very slowly, he says, "I must have misheard you. Did you just say it's wrong?" 

James nods frantically.  

Sirius lets out a slow, measured breath, as if summoning every ounce of patience in his body. "Prongs."  

James shakes his head, looking vaguely traumatized. "Lily's been making me read the Bible."  

Silence.  

Peter's mouth drops open.  

Sirius blinks once. Then twice. "...The what?" 

"The Bible," James repeats, voice strained. "And it says you have to respect the dead."  

Another pause.  

Then, a choked garble escapes the back of Sirius' throat. "Wh— What the fuck does the Bible have to do with this?!"

James gestures helplessly at the corpse. "I can't just throw a body into the forest like rubbish! It has— had— a name, Sirius! What if it belonged to a little girl?"

Peter looks like he might throw up. Sirius looks like he's about to commit actual murder.  

"Merlin, have mercy on me," Sirius mutters, raising his head to glance at the sky.

James stares into the distance, eyes shadowed, as if mourning the imaginary girl and her imaginary cat. "We have to bury it properly."  

Peter groans. "Oh, come on."

"Prongs, we are not giving this cat a Christian burial,” Sirius says.

James whirls on him, looking incredibly betrayed. "Why not?"  

"Because it's dead!"

"Exactly! We have to show it respect. Lily said all living things—"  

"Oh, to hell with Lily!" Sirius bursts out, stomping a foot.

James' head snaps towards Sirius so fast his glasses nearly fly off. "You watch your mouth." 

Sirius stares at James, utterly scandalized. He even takes a step back, clutching his chest as if James has just delivered a personal betrayal of the highest order. "Oh, I'm the villain now? Because I refuse to have a spiritual awakening over a dead cat?"  

James folds his arms stubbornly, jaw set. "I'm not touching it."  

Sirius turns to Peter. "Wormy, are you hearing this?"

Peter is still too busy wheezing through a panic attack to be of much use. He makes a noise that might be agreement, though it might also be the sound of his soul leaving his body.  

Sirius scoffs, shaking his head in disappointment. "Prongs, this is pathetic. You're the same man who nearly decapitated Snivellus in third year for stepping on your shoelace—"  

"It was deliberate," James says flatly.  

"—but suddenly, you can't handle a little corpse disposal? Brilliant. Fantastic. Guess it's up to me, then."  

Before anyone can stop him, he reaches down and grabs the cat by the tail.  

Peter makes a sound of absolute horror.

James gags, turning away so that if he is to vomit, it wouldn't land all over his friends. 

But Sirius, completely unbothered, swings the cat lightly from side to side. "This has weight. I could knock a man out with this."  

James looks like he's about to pass out. "PUT IT DOWN. PUT IT DOWN RIGHT NOW."

Peter, looking a little green, is gripping his knees. "I think— I think I might be sick."

Sirius, naturally, is having the time of his life. He takes a few more experimental swings, grinning. "No, no. I like this. I feel... powerful."  

Peter dry heaves, stumbling away from him. "Powerful? POWERFUL?!" He shakes his head violently. "This is a crime, Sirius, this is a war crime."  

Sirius smirks. "A war crime? Oh, please, Wormtail. I'm not parading it through Hogsmeade. That would be a war crime."  

James presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. "This is sacrilege."

"Sacrilege would be using it as a puppet," Sirius counters, the wind around him whooshing as the cat dangles from side to side. 

Peter inhales sharply. "Oh, Jesus, don't—"  

But it's too late.  

Sirius lifts the cat slightly, adjusting his grip, and tilts it upright like a grotesque little marionette. Then, in a high-pitched falsetto, he wiggles one of its stiff little paws and says, "Oh, please, mighty Sirius, grant me peace in the afterlife!"  

Peter makes a sound that no human should be capable of making. He promptly turns on his heel and walks in the opposite direction.  

James looks genuinely disturbed. "PUT IT DOWN."

Sirius sighs, dramatically holding the cat out. "Alright, alright. No more puppeteering. But we're not burying it, Prongs. That's ridiculous."  

James narrows his eyes. "Then what, exactly, do you suggest?"  

Sirius shrugs, perfectly relaxed. "I say we chuck it in the lake."  

James recoils. "We are NOT—"

"Let the squid deal with it."

Peter, having not quite recovered from the last crime against nature, collapses onto a nearby tree trunk. "This is the worst thing we've ever done."  

Sirius lets out a heavy exhale. "Well, that's debatable."  

James buries his face in his hands. "I hate myself."  

Sirius grins, swinging the cat his way. "Aw, don't be like that, Prongs. Here—" 

James recoils violently, flinging himself backward in a desperate attempt to dodge the incoming corpse. Unfortunately, in his blind panic, he forgets to account for the uneven ground beneath him. His foot catches on an exposed root, and before he can even curse, gravity does its cruel work.  

He plummets, arms flailing, and lands arse-first in a cold, wet heap of mud.

A truly horrific squelching sound echoes through the trees.  

James gapes down at himself in pure horror, hands covered in thick, oozing filth. "Oh, for fuck's sake!" 

Sirius, meanwhile, howls with laughter, staggering back as he clutches his stomach, the cat still in hand. He takes a step forward, swinging the cat like a pendulum once more. "Try escaping Whiskers now—"

A new voice cuts through the clearing.

"What the fuck?"

Sirius flinches so violently that his grip on the cat slips. His fingers let go midswing, and the corpse soars— a truly tragic arc through the air— flopping limply over itself before slamming into a tree with a thud.

Silence.  

Remus Lupin stands before all three of them.  

Peter clasps a hand over his mouth.  

James— sweet, righteous James— squeezes his eyes shut as if willing himself to arise from this waking nightmare.

And Sirius? Well, Sirius subtly shifts his foot against the ground, nudging dirt over the unmistakably dead cat in what can only be described as the direst attempt at a cover-up in human history.  

"...Sirius," Remus says, voice dangerously flat.  

Sirius does not look up. "Yes, Moony?"

"Stop doing that."  

Sirius freezes mid-nudge.  

James lets out something between a groan and a death rattle before dropping his head into his mud-covered hands.  

Peter looks like his heart has stopped.

Remus surveys them with a deadpan expression, his sharp gaze flitting from his three best friends to the crime scene before him. His face does not change, but his eye twitches. "What." He inhales sharply. "The fuck." He exhales. "Is that?"

Sirius clears his throat, toes a little more dirt over the poor, mangled corpse, and lets out the most pitiful nervous chuckle known to man.  

It does nothing.

The cat remains horrifically visible— fur matted, limbs stiff, one glassy, unblinking eye staring up at the heavens, with its little paws pointed skyward like some grotesque offering to the gods.

Sirius claps his hands together. "Right, so. Let's all just... take a breath. A nice, deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth, and we can all pretend this never—"  

"Sirius." Remus' voice is quiet. Too quiet.  

Sirius' words die in his throat.  

Remus takes a single step forward. "Why," he says, "are you desecrating a dead cat?"  

Sirius sighs and glances at James, who is still wallowing in the mud like some Shakespearean tragedy.

"Go on, mate." He jerks his chin at him. "Give him the bad news."  

James slowly lifts his head, bloodshot eyes filled with loathing.  

"You threw a corpse at a tree." His voice is hoarse. "You tell him." 

Remus' fingers twitch at his sides, his knuckles flexing like he's actively debating violence. His expression is eerily calm. The kind of calm that comes right before someone snaps and begins hurling bodies into the lake. "Tell me what?"

Peter clears his throat. "I— I think you did it, Moony."

Remus blanches. "What?"

Peter flails, wildly gesturing— first at the cat, then at Remus, then at the cat again as if caught in some awful loop. "You... you know. Full moon— fur everywhere— teeth..."

A horrible silence falls over them.  

Remus' eyes snap to the corpse, his face draining of color as Peter's words settle over him like a guilty verdict. His breath catches. His jaw tightens. His shoulders lock in place, rigid and unmovable. He sways slightly on the spot, staring at the lifeless, mangled body before him as if it might jump back to life and begin accusing him personally.

Then, his face drops. 

Sirius groans so loudly it echoes through the trees. "Oh, come on!" 

Remus looks wrecked, his fingers tangling through his already-wild hair, clearly two seconds from a breakdown. "I killed it?"

Sirius gives him a blank look. "It's just a bloody cat, Remus. You act like you've never murdered anything before."

Remus' pained expression turns incredulous. "I haven't." 

Sirius scoffs. "Oh, please." He waves a dismissive hand. "You've stomped over loads of gerbils. S'not your fault they don't have the sense to run when they see a massive fucking werewolf barreling through the woods."  

Remus stares at him, horrified. "Gerbils?"  

Sirius shrugs. "Maybe rabbits. Possibly the odd hedgehog." He tilts his head in thought, seeming genuinely intrigued by the possibilities. "You ever eaten a fox?"  

Remus' eye twitches. "What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sirius gestures vaguely at the sky. "Hard to say. I believe it to be natural talent."

James, still soaked in mud, suddenly comes back to life just to kick him in the shin.

Sirius yelps, doubling over as he grabs his leg. "Ow! You absolute dick."  

James, voice shaking with rage, points an accusing finger at him. "Not another word."  

Peter, in the background, still looks seconds away from cardiac arrest.  

Remus, meanwhile, is visibly spiraling. "This is— this is bad. This is really bad. This means I'm—" He swallows hard, running both hands through his hair. "I'm losing control. I'm getting worse. I—"

Sirius, still rubbing his wounded shin, snorts. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Moony. It's a cat, not a first-year."

Remus suddenly rounds on him, wild-eyed. "Do you know what this means? Do you understand what I—"

"It means nothing," Sirius cuts in. "It means you had a bit of a midnight snack and now we're cleaning it up. Happens to the best of us." 

"I didn't snack on anything," Remus shrieks, looking close to deranged. "I killed something!"  

Sirius hums, tilting his head in mock consideration. "Well. Maybe. Unless, of course—"

"Oh, don't start," James warns.  

"—the cat was already dead."

Remus blinks. "What?"

Sirius grins, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Think about it, Moony. How do you know you did it? Do you remember eating it? Tearing it apart? Getting the taste of feline flesh on your lips?" He leans in conspiratorially. "Or did you just wake up, stumble out of the Shrieking Shack, and find it, all mangled and lifeless?"

Remus pauses. "I..."

"See?" Sirius smirks. "It could've been anything. Anything. Maybe a hawk dropped it. Maybe a fox got to it first. Maybe it was suicide."

James slaps a mud-covered hand onto his forehead.

"You never know!" Sirius exclaims. "That cat could've been miserable. Maybe it had debts. Maybe it had enemies. Maybe its wife left it for a richer, handsomer Tom."

"I hate you," James says immediately. "So much."

"I mean, just look at it." Sirius gestures grandly at the corpse. "That's the corpse of a cat with regrets."  

"Sirius, I am begging you," Peter groans, "shut up."

"No, no, this is good," Sirius insists, slapping Remus on the back. "See, Moony? You didn't kill it. There's no proof you did anything. You could be innocent. You could be framed."

Remus' nostrils flare. “You are the worst person I have ever met."

"That is objectively false," Sirius says, grinning. "Regulus is worse than me, which means I'm not even remotely the worst person you know."  

"You threw a corpse at a tree, Padfoot," James deadpans. "That alone gets you top three."  

Sirius shrugs. "What can I say? Some people paint. Some people write. I express myself through—"

Remus drops his head into his hands. "I want to die."

"Brilliant," Sirius says. "We'll bury you right next to the cat."

Remus looks visibly ill. "I killed a cat."

Sirius, frustrated like never before, bites his knuckles before speaking. "And you've probably killed, what? Ten gerbils? Fifteen? Where was this fucking emotional crisis when you were mowing them down?"  

Remus blinks, looking utterly lost. "I— I don't know—"  

"Oh, but this one?" Sirius jabs a finger at the corpse. "This one's special, is it? The gerbils weren't worthy of your guilt? Not enough status?" He scoffs. "I see how it is. You've got a preference."

James lifts a mud-covered hand and sends a heap of it flying onto Sirius's face.  

Sirius lets out a truly inhuman shriek. 

He reels back, clawing at his face. "WHAT THE FUCK, PRONGS?"

James, still very much seated in filth, simply glares at him. "You deserved that!"  

Sirius wipes aggressively at his cheek, but it only smears the mud further, streaking down his jaw in thick, horrifying brown clumps. He stares at his dirty hands in utter contempt. "You absolute pig."

James looks entirely unbothered. "I warned you."  

Peter, meanwhile, is still caught somewhere between a panic attack and an existential crisis. He eyes the cat's lifeless body, still partially buried under Sirius's pathetic dirt cover-up. "So... what do we do with it?"  

Sirius, still wiping at his face, groans. "We bury it, obviously."

James scoffs, finally pulling himself up from the mud with a miserable squelch. "Oh, now you want to bury it? You had no problem swinging it around like a fucking mace two minutes ago."  

Sirius glares at him. "Yes, well, that was before you assaulted me."  

James gestures to his own mud-drenched body. "You are not the victim here."  

Peter frantically waves his hands, cutting them off. "Can we focus? I don't want to be caught standing over a corpse."

Remus makes a strained noise. "Stop describing this as if we've committed actual murder."

Sirius shrugs. "Well, technically—"

Remus visibly twitches.  

Peter groans, clutching at his head. "Okay, but where are we burying it? We're still on the bloody school grounds! What if someone finds it?"  

James groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, we could chuck it in the lake."  

Remus makes a noise of absolute betrayal. "Are you— James, I am not violating a corpse—"  

Sirius cackles. "Yeah, Prongs, have some respect."

James levels him with a glare so vicious that Sirius almost steps back.  

Remus rubs his temples furiously. "You know what? I hate all of you."  

Sirius scoffs. "Oi, we're the ones trying to cover up your crime."  

Remus takes a slow, deep breath. "We are burying the cat. And then we are never talking about this again."  

Sirius crosses his arms. "You're no fun."  

Remus turns to James. "Kick him again."  

James doesn't even hesitate. 

Sirius yelps as James's foot collides with his shin again, this time with all the vengeance of a man who has been personally victimized by this entire morning.   

"Fucking hell, Prongs!" Sirius staggers back, grabbing his leg. "That actually hurt, you sadistic bastard!"  

"Good," James says, wiping his mud-covered hands on his robes.

Remus folds his arms. "Serves you right."   

Sirius scowls. "Oh, I'm the bad guy? I'm sorry, but was it me who slaughtered a poor, innocent kitten last night?"   

Remus twitches once more. "Shut up."   

Peter, ever the voice of reason, yells out,  "Right! Enough! Let's just bury it and... move on?"

Sirius exhales dramatically. "Fine. If I must." He turns to James. "But you're digging."  

James blinks at him. "Like hell I am."  

"You kicked me twice." Sirius points at him, offended. "That makes you the official corpse-handler."   

James gawks. "That's not how it fucking works!"

Remus sighs, rubbing his temples again. "We are not arguing about this."   

But Sirius is already shaking his head, looking deeply disappointed. "Honestly, Prongs, what would Lily think if she knew how quick you were to abandon the dead?"   

James blanches. "Don't."

Sirius smirks. "No respect for the deceased? No basic human decency?"   

James glares at him, nostrils flaring. "I swear to Merlin—"   

Sirius turns to Peter. "Are you hearing this? The man who's been force-fed the Bible is refusing to help lay this poor soul to rest."   

James lunges.

Sirius yelps, darting away.   

Meanwhile, Peter has made the grave mistake of actually glancing down at the cat again, and his face turns a sickly shade of green. "Can we please just get this over with before I vomit?"

Remus sighs, as exhausted as he is disturbed. "We need a shovel."   

Sirius pauses his fleeing just long enough to scoff. "Shovel? What do you take me for? Some amateur?" He pulls out his wand and gives it a lazy flick.   

The ground in front of them bursts open. Dirt flies, a rough ditch appearing instantly.   

James, mid-murder attempt, stares at it. "...I hate you."   

Sirius waves a hand his way. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Remus glares. "Just put it in the bloody hole."   

Sirius grunts dramatically, stepping toward the unfortunate corpse. "Fine." He grabs the cat's tail and lifts it up, sending the body flopping down into their makeshift trench seconds later.

James immediately turns away, gagging.  

Peter makes a horrified sound. "Why would you throwit?" 

"Oh, grow up," Sirius mutters, dusting off his hands. "Right, well. That's that."   

Remus stares at him, unimpressed. "...You could at least say a few words."   

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "You want a fucking eulogy?"

James groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

They all stand there in an uncomfortable, strained silence, staring at the freshly dug hole. The cat, now unceremoniously dumped into the earth, lies in its grave like some kind of tragic, twisted afterthought. 

James shifts on his feet. "Well, that was about as poetic as a donkey's funeral."  

Sirius rolls his eyes, kicking at the dirt by his feet. "Poetic? Please. This is an absolute disgrace."  

Peter, his face still a little green, rubs the back of his neck. "Do we, uh, just cover it up now?"  

"I dunno, I was kind of hoping for a ceremonial burial, maybe some music?" Sirius says sarcastically. "I mean, we've gone through all the trouble of murdering the bloody thing, shouldn't we at least give it a dignified send-off?"  

All three of his friends stare at him.

At that, Sirius plucks a random flower from the ground. He glares at it for a second, then throws it on top of the dirt, aiming for the hole. It misses spectacularly, landing about a foot away.  

"Oh, bloody brilliant, Pads," James says, rolling his eyes. 

Sirius opens his mouth to retort, but Peter cuts in, his voice more desperate now. "Can we just... can we just cover it up already?"  

Sirius glares at Peter. "Not my fault everyone else is being pathetic about it." He turns back to the hole, visibly annoyed, and begins shoveling dirt over the cat with his wand, doing so with far more force than is necessary.  

Remus, who has been standing off to the side, still looking like he's about to explode with guilt, speaks up quietly. "I... I still don't feel right about this."  

Sirius freezes, turning away from the half-covered-up cat. "What?"  

"I just..." Remus runs a hand through his hair, looking utterly miserable. "I did kill it. It was—"  

James, for the first time since the beginning of the entire ordeal, snaps. "For Merlin's sake, Remus, let it go! You didn't mean to."  

"No, it's not that," Remus says quickly, his eyes flicking nervously to the ground. "I mean... I killed it. What if it belonged to someone at school? What if they figure out it was me?"

Sirius snorts, brushing the dirt off his hands as he leans against a nearby tree. "Mate, that's—"  

"— ridiculous," James finishes.  

Remus still looks genuinely horrified at the thought. 

Sirius sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets as he proceeds to lie through his teeth, "Look, Remus, nobody's coming for it. If it was a pet, someone would've noticed by now. It's fine. You're overthinking this."  

James steps forward, slapping him on the back. "Sirius is right."  

Remus, still uneasy, looks down at the ground again. "As long as no one comes looking for it..."  

Sirius snorts. "Nobody's looking for it, mate. I promise. Now, let's all just move on. You're gonna let a cat ruin your whole fucking day?"  

Remus hesitates, looking at the fresh dirt, his lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, he nods, albeit with obvious reluctance. "I suppose... as long as no one finds it. And no one comes asking for a missing cat."  

Sirius shrugs, wiping his hands on his trousers. "See? All done. Cat's buried. End of story."  

With a final glance at the mound of dirt, Remus lets out a deep sigh. "Alright. Fine."  

Peter, still shaking off the horror of the situation, nods frantically. "No one will ever know."  

"Perfect." Sirius says, grinning. "Now, who's up for a bit of breakfast?" 

Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel, walking away and clearly ready to leave the whole mess behind him. But just as he's about to step into the clearing's edge, someone clears their throat.

Sirius stops mid-step, sighing in frustration. "What now?"

He turns back around to see James, Peter, and Remus all staring at the spot where the cat had once been— and, of course, it's still there, in all its mangled glory, half-buried under the dirt Sirius had tried to shove over it.

"Padfoot," James says, his voice edged with disbelief. "The cat's still visible."

Sirius glances at the cat and then at his friends, his face twisting in irritation. "Oh, for Merlin's sake! What, do you all want it to be buried with a proper gravestone and a 'here lies Whisky' sign or something?"

Remus narrows his eyes. 

"Alright," Sirius snaps. "I'll fix it.”

He steps forward, pulls out his wand, and, with a sharp flick, mutters a spell under his breath. The cat’s mangled body jerks, and suddenly, a large pile of leaves, twigs, and— of course— mud begins to explode from the ground, surrounding the cat and completely burying it under a thick layer of forest debris.

There’s an awkward silence as the pile settles, and the cat is now entirely hidden under a mound of forest refuse. 

Sirius, clearly pleased with himself, dusts his hands off and stands triumphantly.

“There. All covered up,” he announces smugly, hands on his hips. “Now, nobody will ever know it was there.”

James blinks. “Are you... It’s still there, you twat! You can see the outline of the poor thing underneath!”

Sirius grins. “Exactly. Now it looks like a bloody nature monument. Who could say no to that? It’s... organic.”

Peter stares at it, mouth hanging open. “Organic? Are you— are you out of your bloody mind?”

Remus shakes his head slowly, evidently warding off nausea. 

Sirius turns to Remus with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that shaking for? You’re not seeing the bigger picture, Moony.”

Peter’s face has gone pale, and he looks like he’s about to collapse. “You... you really just—”

“I fixed it!” Sirius cuts him off, exasperated. “Stop bloody complaining. You wanted it covered, I covered it. Problem solved.”

James just glares at him, his patience clearly running thin. “You didn’t fix anything! You made it worse!”

Sirius leans in slightly, dropping his voice to a mock-whisper. “Oh, but now it looks like part of the landscape. I dare anyone to question it. It’s practically nature’s masterpiece.”

Remus just stares at the pile of leaves, his expression a mix of disbelief and disgust. “Jesus Christ.”

“Well, I think it’s a work of art,” Sirius replies, smirking like he’s just made the most valid point in the world. “And the best part is— no one will ever know. It’ll just blend in with the surroundings.”

The group stands in stunned silence for a moment, before James finally sighs, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Whatever,” he mutters, already turning toward the path leading back to the castle.

Peter follows behind quickly, still trying to calm his breathing, while Remus hesitates one last time, his gaze flicking between the “nature masterpiece” and Sirius, who’s now standing smugly with his arms crossed.

Sirius grins wickedly, grabbing onto Remus’ arm. “Off we go, Moony!” 

Sirius drags Remus through the forest, his steps quick and uneven, trying to make up for the mess they’ve just caused. Remus stumbles slightly, trying to keep up with Sirius’s pace as they catch up to James and Peter, who are already making their way toward the castle. 

James glances back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “We’re going to the dorms, Moony. Get cleaned up, alright?”

Sirius looks over at Remus with a grin. “Yeah, Moony, no one’s gonna know about the cat. You’re stressing for nothing.”

Remus huffs, shaking his head, but he’s not entirely convinced. “This is going to come back to bite us in the arse. I can feel it.”

Sirius slings an arm around Remus’s shoulders, pulling him along faster. “Nah, mate. No one’s even going to remember. Forget the cat, alright? It’s nothing.” He pauses, then smirks. “It’s practically a myth now.”

Remus doesn’t respond.

The group sneaks their way through the now-illuminated corridors, dodging any stray students wandering about. James leads them to the Gryffindor Tower, him and Lily having opted out of staying in the Head Boy and Girl dorms this year, preferring to be with their friends for one last time.

James glances back at them. “We’ll be fine, Moony. Trust me. It’ll be like it never happened. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Sirius elbows Remus lightly. 

Remus doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders tighten. 

However, as they round a corner, they run straight into Mrs. Norris, Filch’s ever-watchful cat. 

Sirius’s eyes light up. “Speak of the devil,” he mutters, his grin widening. “Oi, what if that cat’s married to her? Or, you know, was.”

James, deadpan as ever, shoots a look at Sirius. “Oh, brilliant. Yeah, Pads, why don’t you ask her?”

Sirius doesn’t miss a beat. He crouches down low, mimicking Mrs. Norris’s distinctive meow with exaggerated gusto. 

Remus stops in his tracks, mortified. “Sweet, suffering—”

Instantly, James grabs the back of Sirius’ cloak and, mid-meow, hauls him to his feet and pushes him forward.

Once they reach the portrait of the Fat Lady, James mutters the password, and the door swings open. They slip inside, grateful to finally be back in the safety of the Gryffindor Tower. 

It’s still early in the morning, and the other students are likely asleep, or at least avoiding the common room for their own reasons. The group ascends the steps to their dormitory and quickly move to their respective beds, peeling off their mud-soaked clothes and changing into their uniforms, everyone expect James not having enough time (or rather, the willpower) to shower.

Sirius, as usual, takes the opportunity to lay back on his bed with a dramatic sigh, throwing one arm across his eyes. 

Remus raises an eyebrow but says nothing, pulling on a fresh shirt and running his fingers through his hair to fix the mess it’s become. 

Peter, meanwhile, is fidgeting at his bed, unable to sit still. “That was way too close,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “We really need to avoid trouble like that, yeah?”

James, who’s now halfway through changing into his usual robes, offers him a wry smile. “Yeah, Pete. Good idea. Avoid trouble. I’ll write that one down.” 

Sirius, clearly amused, stands up and stretches. “Alright, alright. We’re all dressed now. Let’s go down for breakfast. We’ve earned it.”

The four of them walk out of the dormitory, but as they make their way downstairs, they can already hear the voices of their friends in the common room.

Lily, Mary, and Marlene are seated at one of the tables, chatting and laughing as usual. They stop talking when they see the boys enter, their eyes immediately scanning the group.

Mary quirks an eyebrow. “You lot look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.”

Sirius grins, not missing a beat. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

Remus, trying to keep it cool, just shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

Marlene glances over at Peter, who’s still looking a bit pale. “You alright there, Pete? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Peter forces a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just a bit of a rough night, that’s all.”

James gives Lily a quick nod, walking over to her as she stands and slides her arm through his. “Morning, Lily,” he says, his voice lighter now. 

Lily looks over at him, her expression softening. “Morning, James.”

The group exchanges a few more casual greetings, with the usual banter flowing freely. Mary teases Peter about the state of his hair, which is sticking up in every direction, while Marlene and Sirius engage in a loud, back-and-forth about whether the food at breakfast will be any good today. 

Then, catching Remus’s distracted gaze, Sirius claps a hand on his shoulder, leaning in conspiratorially. “You know, Moony, everything’s fine. I mean it. No one’s going to know about that cat, alright? No one.”

Remus looks down at him, clearly still uneasy. “I really hope you’re right.”

Sirius gives him a reassuring wink as they walk out of the common room, following James and Lily. The pair is walking ahead, chatting quietly, their bodies close. 

It’s a comfort to Sirius in some strange way—seeing James and Lily finally together.

But suddenly, as they near a corner, James and Lily come to an abrupt halt. Remus and Sirius almost collide with their backs, barely managing to step back in time.

Sirius, always the curious one, raises his head above James’s shoulder. His eyes land on a figure standing in the corridor just in front of them— a  relatively tall girl, with wavy brown hair that cascades past her shoulders, and glasses perched precariously atop her head. 

Her brown eyes flicker with a sense of worry as she looks around, the tension in her posture making her seem older than her years. Her yellow-adorned uniform is crisp but slightly disheveled, a few buttons undone at the collar as though she’s been too preoccupied to notice. 

Sirius realizes, with a start, that he’s never really noticed her before— or if he has, he’s never paid attention. But now, with her worry clear on her face, she stands out more than ever.

She’s staring at Lily, her voice tinged with concern as she asks, “Hey, Lily, have you seen Whiskers anywhere?”

Sirius’s stomach drops to the very pit of his stomach as his gaze flies to Remus, unable to stop the horrified realization that hits him. 

The fucking cat.