Potion Panic and Procrastination
James, Peter, Sirius, and Remus sat scattered around their dormitory, the usual chaos of their shared space feeling particularly heavy with the looming threat of their upcoming Potions test. Books, scraps of parchment, and a few stray socks lay strewn across the floor, but none of them seemed to notice or care.
“If I don’t pass Potions, I’m going to die,” James groaned, flopping onto his bed with all the dramatics of a staged duel. He threw an arm over his face for added effect, as though shielding himself from the unbearable weight of academic failure.
Peter glanced up from the book he was lazily flipping through, his tone casual. “Don’t worry, mate. You’ll be fine.”
James sat up just enough to glare at him. “Says you! You actually take notes. I’ve been winging it all semester.”
Sirius snorted, pacing by the window like a caged animal. “You think you’ve got it bad? I don’t even know what we’re learning! Slughorn might as well be speaking Gobbledegook. We’re doomed. DOOMED!” His voice rose dramatically, practically shaking the walls.
“Calm down, Padfoot,” Remus said from his spot on the floor, where he sat cross-legged with a stack of flashcards spread out in front of him. “You’re not doomed. You’re just—”
“—completely unprepared?” Sirius interrupted, throwing his hands in the air.
“Distracted,” Remus corrected with a smirk. “If you spent half as much time on Potions as you do figuring out ways to charm the socks off half the school, you’d be top of the class.”
Sirius flopped into a chair, crossing his arms like a sulking child. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“Well, it’s not,” Remus admitted. “But it’s doable. Here—” He held out a flashcard. “Tell me what’s in a Draught of Living Death.”
Sirius stared at the card as if it were written in Parseltongue. “Uh… wormwood? Maybe?”
“Good start,” Remus said encouragingly. “Now add asphodel, valerian root, and—”
“—and a pinch of Sirius Black’s despair,” James chimed in, sitting up with a mischievous grin.
Peter laughed, setting his book aside. “Don’t worry, Sirius. If all else fails, just charm Slughorn with one of your stories. He loves a good tale.”
Sirius brightened slightly at that. “You’re right. I am quite charming.”
“Unbelievably so,” James said, rolling his eyes.
As the laughter died down, the door to their dorm creaked open, and Lily Evans stepped inside, looking unamused. “What’s all the yelling about? I could hear you lot from the common room.”
“Lily! Just the person I needed. How’s your Potions revision going?” James exclaimed from his bed
“Better than yours, I’m sure,” she replied, raising an eyebrow. “You do realise the test is in two days, right?”
“Don’t remind me,” James said with a groan. “Are you here to save us, oh brilliant one?”
“I’m here to borrow a quill, but I suppose I could help you after I finish my own studying.”
Sirius nudged Remus with a grin. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a tutor.”
Lily shot him a look. “You’re not off the hook either, Black. If I’m helping James, I’m helping all of you. Now, where’s that quill?”
Peter handed her one, and she turned to leave, but not before tossing a pointed glance over her shoulder. “Be ready to actually work when I get back. No excuses.”
As the door clicked shut behind her, Sirius groaned. “Great. Now we really are doomed. Lily’s going to run us into the ground.”
“Better than failing Potions,” Remus said with a shrug. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll actually learn something.”
“Doubtful,” Sirius muttered, though he couldn’t suppress a small grin as he reached for one of the flashcards.
“I’m just glad it’s in two days,” Peter said, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, his quill nearly tearing through the paper. “Less time to stress about it!”
“Same here,” James chimed in, sitting up from where he’d been sprawled out on his bed like a defeated knight. His hair stuck out in every direction, but he seemed utterly unconcerned.
Lily, leaning casually on the doorframe, let out a soft chuckle. “You lot are ridiculous. If you’d start studying the day you heard about the test, you wouldn’t have to stress because you’d actually understand the material.”
“Studying?” Sirius gasped, throwing himself dramatically onto the armchair like a swooning actor in a Shakespearean play. “But we have better things to do!”
“Like what?” Lily asked, crossing her arms and raising a brow.
“Like… existing in this oppressive academic environment,” Sirius replied, gesturing vaguely to the room around him.
“Or,” Lily said, fixing him with a pointed glare that seemed to pierce straight through him, “you could just pay attention in class and not pass notes every five seconds.”
Sirius froze under her gaze, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. He raised his hands as though surrendering to an invisible authority. “Alright, alright! You got me there. Guilty as charged.”
“Guilty and sentenced to actually learn something,” Lily shot back with a smirk.
James snickered, watching the exchange with obvious amusement. “Don’t feel bad, Padfoot. At least you’re consistent.”
Sirius shot him a mock glare. “I’m consistent at being incredible. Thank you very much.”
“Consistently distracting,” Remus muttered from his spot on the floor, earning a laugh from Peter.
Lily pushed off the doorframe and straightened up. “Well, as much as I enjoy your collective floundering, I’ve got actual work to do. Good luck—you’ll need it.”
She turned to leave, but James called after her, “You’ll come back to help us, though, right? Don’t leave us to fend for ourselves!”
Lily paused in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. “We’ll see. If you survive until tomorrow without setting something on fire, maybe.”
As she disappeared down the hall, Sirius let out a low whistle. “Evans doesn’t hold back, does she?”
“She’s not wrong,” Remus said, flipping through one of his textbooks. “We could all use a bit of help. You especially, Sirius.”
Sirius flopped back in the chair with a groan. “I don’t need help. I need a miracle.”
Peter chuckled, tossing his parchment aside. “Well, miracles aren’t coming. So let’s just get through this and prove Lily wrong.”
“Good luck with that,” James muttered, though he reached for his own notes, determination flickering in his hazel eyes.
The group settled back into their spots, a symphony of quills scratching against parchment and quiet sighs of frustration filling the dorm. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the scattered textbooks and forgotten socks. Outside, the castle lay cloaked in a serene stillness, the kind that only came with late hours when the world seemed to hold its breath.
Somewhere down the hall, Lily was likely deep into her revision, methodical and unshakable. But here, in the Marauders’ dormitory, chaos reigned as they wrestled with formulas, ingredients, and half-remembered lessons. It wasn’t pretty, but it was theirs—a stubborn, messy battle for readiness that could only end one way: together.
As the night stretched on, exhaustion began to settle in, but none of them suggested stopping. There was an unspoken camaraderie in their shared struggle, the kind that didn’t need words. Tomorrow might bring a test they weren’t prepared for, but for now, they had each other—and that was enough.