Year One: Hexes and Howlers

Early on Tuesday morning, a high-pitched screech shattered the calm. A letter had exploded over James’s bed, yelling at him in outrage.

“ASSAULTING A FELLOW STUDENT—I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU—”

Remus rubbed his eyes, his ears ringing. What had James done?

He hadn’t seen him or Sirius the entire last evening, and Merlin knew what they’d been up to. James sat straight up, white as his sheets. The whole of Gryffindor house must be awake. The envelope burst into flames, and for once, Remus was glad his mother didn’t know any magic.

Remus huffed and let himself fall back on his pillow. There was no going back to sleep. He glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand—six in the morning if it was to be believed. Nearly an hour before they actually had to get up. Remus picked at a peeling scab of paint on the clock and sat up.

Peter rubbed his eyes and yawned. The room was freezing cold, and none of the boys spoke. James stood from his bed mechanically and shut himself in the bathroom. Sirius had turned over and pulled the covers over his face.

Remus searched for Peter’s eyes, hoping the other boy knew something he didn’t. Unlikely, since he’d spent the entire evening with Peter going over their History of Magic lesson in between rounds of chess. They’d gone to bed at a reasonable time, by which the others still hadn’t shown.

Stares and whispers followed the four boys as soon as they left their dormitory. Sirius seemed largely unafflicted by the sudden onslaught of attention, and walked straight-backed and regal to the portrait hole, as if it was normal that their entire house turned to watch their every move. James, on the other hand, was quiet, which was odd since he started talking the moment he woke in the morning and did not shut up until he fell asleep in the evening.

“What did you do?” Remus asked in a deserted fifth-floor corridor.

“We tried to get rid of Snivelly’s slimy hair,” Sirius said, facing them and walking backwards.

“But something was off with the spell,” James admitted, scratching the back of his head, disshevelling his hair. “He lost an eyebrow and has round bald spots all over, but that’s about it.”

Peter pulled Sirius out of the way of a suit of armour, and Remus asked, “Why would you even try that?”

“He tried to hex us,” Sirius said. “While we had our backs turned.”

“It’s unsportsmanlike,” James provided, his voice a little steadier.

“And you hexed him in the face?” Remus asked. “That’s supposed to be better?”

“Yes,” Sirius said simply.

Remus pulled the sleeves of his jumper over his hands. “And the exploding letter?”

“Yeah, reckon mum wasn’t pleased with an owl from McGonagall,” James said.

“Why would McGonagall write to your mum?”

“Well, Snivellus sort of fell down the stairs, the long ones, into the entrance hall,” James mumbled. “Right to the feet of the Head Girl.”

“And she busted you,” Remus surmised.

Sirius threw up his hands. “And here I thought I was her favourite.”

“She dragged us into McGonagall’s office,” James said.

“You’re still here,” Remus said, surprised by the revelation. He doubted he’d have gotten the same treatment if he’d attacked a fellow student.

“Nothing short of a miracle,” Sirius said. “She was proper frightening. Dromeda told her to calm down. Now, she’s joining us in detention for the whole first week. Mad, honestly.”

It was an odd day. Lily had stopped waving at Remus—in fact, she didn’t even acknowledge his existence. Only Marlene smiled at him with an apologising shrug. Remus tried to keep his head down as much as he could. Gryffindor was now in last place for the house championship, and rumours spread through the school like wildfire.

During meals, the four boys sat at the farthest edge of the table, gobbling up their food—Remus even refrained from second helpings—and left the Great Hall as quickly as they could. They sat in alcoves by the North Courtyard until that, too, became crowded with students waiting for classes to start.

Professor McGonagall had been exceptionally irritable during transfiguration, assigning a two-foot essay on the distinctions between animate and inanimate transfigurations. The Gryffindors grumbled as they returned to the common room, casting nasty glances towards James and Sirius.

They crowded onto James’s bed, Peter supplying a stash of chocolates and jam tarts his mother had sent him, and carefully opened an inkwell. The first hour they worked in near-complete silence, but as the tarts dwindled and Sirius snagged the last chocolate frog, much to Remus’s dismay, as he’d been eying it for ten minutes already, James set down his quill and threw himself backwards into his pillows.

“Can we stop now?” he groaned. “We still have to endure detention tonight.”

“What’s McGonagall having you do?” Peter asked.

“Well, yesterday it was lines,” James said. “But I doubt that’s going to continue for the rest of the two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Remus asked, looking up from his transfiguration homework.

“Tell me about it,” Sirius grumbled.

Remus did the mental math. That was almost—

“You and Peter will have to do most of the preparation for the prank,” James said. “Unless McGonagall lets up on the punishment.”

That was unlikely. Of all the teachers, McGonagall seemed to be the strictest. “Or we could do it after our detentions,” Sirius said casually, the tip of his quill between his lips.

Remus groaned, but James seemed to light up. “Of course. We just use the cloak.” James rolled off the bed, nearly taking Peter with him. He rummaged for the cloak under his bed and said, “I reckon we can all fit under it.”

James demonstrated, pulling apart the cloak and raising his arms like a bat. “C’mon, let’s all get nice and cosy.”

They all shuffled off the bed as close to James as possible, then tried waddling a few steps forward. Remus’s feet were trodden on five times in as many steps, and he wasn’t sure he’d been stepping on solid ground either. Finally, Sirius yelped, cursed and yanked the fabric off their heads. James’s hair stood on end, and they all dissolved into fits of laughter.

***

When Remus woke the next morning, the room was quiet, and light streamed into the dormitory through high windows. The other beds were empty, and Remus had the faint recollection of being shaken awake hours before.

Remus darted from his bed, pulling off his clothes and scrambling for his uniform, all caution forgotten. It wasn’t until he yanked his tie over his head that he glimpsed at the clock and registered the time—nine in the morning. Sure, he’d missed breakfast and would be miserable until lunch, but he still had over an hour until his first class of the day.

With a sigh, he dropped onto his bed—he’d been awake far too long. A roll of parchment lay beside his alarm.

Went to find potion ingredients.

No sooner than he’d read the note, the doorknob jostled, and the door swung open to reveal an empty landing and poorly suppressed giggles. Remus looked over himself hastily, ensuring he was covered from head to toe.

“Don’t worry about it,” James said, yanking the cloak off the boys before the door had shut. “You’re decent.”

“Apart from those buttons, that is.”

Remus had misaligned his buttons, leaving a gaping hole, which was thankfully covered by his tie. Remus turned away to fix his clothes. “You’ve gone off without me.”

He’d meant to say it casually, but it came out rather accusatory.

“We tried to wake you,” Peter said. “You wouldn’t budge. You were worse than Black.”

Remus huffed. “Please tell me you didn’t get even more detention?”

“Nah,” Sirius said, grinning as he deposited an armful of jars. “It was a full-blown success. I think we got it all.”

Remus nodded, shifting through the pile, and held up a no doubt very expensive phial of honey. “All this will do us no good if we don’t have a cauldron.”

“We have a cauldron,” Peter said, motioning to the bathroom. Remus followed and stepped into a cloud of sticky sweet fumes. “Here. I wrote to my mum a few days ago. Now, you have one again.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Remus said. “I was going to get around to writing my parents at some point.”

“It was me who broke yours. It’s only fair I replace it.”

Remus grumbled his thanks, watching the bubbles in the liquid push the leaves out of the way.

“Besides,” Peter continued. “We don’t know when we melt the next one.”

They broke into a laugh. “How long until the leaves are ready?”

“We put them in there as soon as Pete unwrapped the cauldron, so about ten hours?” James said.

Remus sat at the foot of his bed. “How’d you get all the ingredients?”

“We went off with the cloak again,” James said.

Remus had waited with the cloak in a bathroom stall on the first floor the night before, and they had snuck into the dungeons to nick the most common potion ingredients before they had to be on the Astronomy Tower at midnight. It was a miracle no one had spotted them, for none of them could suppress the odd burst of laughter or the yelps when their toes were stepped on.

“I’d seen Slughorn’s notes for the next lesson,” Sirius said. “Sixth years are brewing some healing potion today, and they needed Dittany leaves, and some of that honey.”

“They led us straight to the stores,” Peter said. “We also got the stems from Bouncing Bulbs.”

James grinned. “We’re on.”

“Except that we’ve got Defence Against the Dark Arts in half an hour,” Peter said.

“And Bracegirdle will happily rip me to shreds if I’m late,” Remus said.

“What’s her deal with her, anyway?” James asked.

Remus was glad to have his back turned to the others and his face half-concealed by an open drawer. His face heated as he shrugged. “Dunno. She’s weird, I guess.”

The others mumbled their agreement, stashing the ingredients under Sirius’s bed.

***

Remus sat, shuddering, on their bathroom floor while Peter read the next line of instructions out loud. When they returned from the Quidditch Pitch, he’d changed into dry clothes, but he hadn’t felt warm since. A fire crackled merrily in the bathtub, sending embers flying every few minutes. Remus peered into the cauldron.

“What colour is it supposed to be?”

“Red,” Peter said. “Isn’t it?”

Remus shrugged, pushing some of the liquid around with the ladle. “What’s next?”

“Stirring,” Peter said, kneeling next to Remus.

They counted the stirs out loud and made sure to add the Bouncing Bulb stems at the appropriate times. Peter kept fiddling with the page as they worked. The potion somehow looked off, but he couldn’t fathom what they’d done wrong.

James had started the potion as soon as the candy leaves had been ready—but too soon, he and Sirius had to leave for their detentions. No one was allowed to suspect that they were up to something. The potion had been perfect when James left—much like any potion James touched. Remus really didn’t want to mess things up. After all, they only had two weeks to get everything ready.

“Now we just leave it?” Peter asked, pulling Remus from his thoughts.

“Seems like it.” Remus pushed himself off the floor. “Are you up for a round of chess?”

Peter grinned widely. “I’ll go get my board.”

Remus waited in a window alcove in the common room by a heavy tapestry next to the fireplace. The room was buzzing with students sitting close to the fire. A group played exploding snap in the corner, passing around yellow bottles, while the rain pounded against the glass. Remus wished for one of the maroon blankets thrown over the backs of the couches.

“Do you think James will be bothered if you borrow his chess set?” Remus shook his head, scooting farther toward the window. “It was on his chest of drawers.”

“As long as we don’t touch his broom, I doubt he’ll notice.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Peter emptied sweets from his pockets and set up the board between them. “I feel bad for him.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t get to go to the practices now.”

Remus turned his queen over in his hand before setting it into the middle of the board, where she was swiftly slain by Peter’s. Remus’s set turned black. “He’s not even on the team.”

“Still,” Peter said. Their chess pieces walked to their spots on the board, two of Remus’s pawns arguing about who’d get to stand in front of the king.

“Cut it out,” he commanded. “It’s James’s own fault. He didn’t have to hex Snape.”

“It was really brave of him, though.”

Remus shrugged. Over Peter’s shoulder, he could see Lily roll her eyes and brush her hair out of her face before she looked at her book.

“Chocolate?” Peter held up a package.

Remus smiled. “Thanks.”

Wizard chess was exactly like Muggle chess, except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Remus argued with his figurines between bites of chocolate—he lost much slower that way. Peter had years of experience in the game.

Remus pressed the spot between his eyebrows with his middle fingers, studying the board while his knight and rook shouted different pieces of advice at him. With a glance at the grandfather clock by the noticeboard, Remus started.

“Pete?”

“You should really listen to your rook,” Peter said, tearing open a chocolate frog.

“What time did we come down here?”

“Why?”

Remus’s heart hammered. He desperately tried to remember how long ago they’d left their bathroom, hoping Peter would understand from his glances toward the dormitory staircase. They couldn’t talk about it with all the people around—the reason Remus had suggested they play in the common room in the first place.

“I think I have to use the bathroom,” Remus said quietly.

Finally, Peter perked up. “Are you okay? Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, no. I’m fine.” He delicately stepped over the chessboard. “It’s almost nine, anyway. Sirius and James will be on their way back. You can meet them down here to write our essays. I’ll get the stuff.”

Remus sprinted up the stairs and flung the door open. He skimmed the instructions again—just to be absolutely sure—and levitated the cauldron off the fire. He dumped the soapdish of valerian spring petals into the potion, watching them sink in the liquid, leaving tendrils of smoke.

The potion kept its strange orange colour, and the smoke emitting from the bathtub started smelling of the Muggle markers used on massive pieces of paper. The scent wafted in Remus’s face, forcing him to sit on the toilet for a moment. He tried to remember where he’d smelled something similar before, but his mind was blank. All he could remember was the faint laughter of children.

He shook his head, gathering parchment, quills and the stack of their textbooks. It would be a late night again.

***

Remus walked through the hallways bleary-eyed, barely paying attention to where he was going. He’d barely had any sleep for three nights in a row. Remus couldn’t let the quality of his work slip, so he stayed awake until two in the morning to finish all the homework. Their first batch of potion had been a complete disaster, and Remus had only just managed to dump the potion down the drain before Sirus and James had a chance to test how badly they’d done. Worse yet, they didn’t know what they’d done wrong.

Nonetheless, they boiled another batch of candy leaves, and Sirius brewed the potion Thursday after class while James took Remus to where they suspected the kitchens to be. The two snatched another batch of potion ingredients on their way back to the common room.

The potion had been a little darker than described in the recipe, but it worked. When Remus and James returned, Peter sat on his bed, blabbering nonsense. Remus kept him company until the potion wore off a few hours later, and his constant babbling reduced to a whisper.

The next day, Peter couldn’t speak. The boys ran swiftly through the rain and into the damp hellhole that was Greenhouse Three. Remus stood, tapping his foot, at the back of the crowd as Professor Sprout explained how to trim aconite plants properly.

They ducked into the castle four hours later, hurrying to lunch. Dirt crusted under their fingernails in brown half-moons. Three people had ended up in the hospital wing—a record, Remus felt. There was always someone who ended up touching a plant they shouldn’t.

At lunch, Snape hovered by the Gryffindor table, chatting with Lily and not taking his eyes off the boys. His hair looked fine. Bummer, Remus would have liked to see that.

Remus felt Snape’s stares on his back, shifting in his seat, trying to hold a conversation with James. He had a bad feeling about their plan. What if they were caught?

For the others, it might just be a slap on the wrist, but Remus—Bracegirdle already hated him, and it couldn’t take much for the other professors to think the same way. One or the other always seemed to have an eye on him. That day, it was Flitwick, the small charms professor, averting his eyes whenever Remus glanced toward the staff table.

Remus swallowed. The four boys parted in the Grand Staircase, James and Peter taking a detour to see Madam Pomfrey about Peter’s voice. Remus followed Sirius to their dormitory, immediately checking on the steeping candy leaves. The fire crackled low in the bathtub, which had turned black where the flames licked at the material.

Remus scrubbed his hands and flung himself onto his bed.

“Are you and Pete going to the kitchens tonight?”

Remus lifted his head. Sirius lounged in the window alcove, leafing through a book. “If he fixes his voice,” Remus said. “How many detentions do you have left?”

“More than a week,” Sirius groaned.

“Two weeks until Halloween.”

Sirius nodded. “We have to step up our game.”

“The cauldron will be empty in—” he checked his clock—“half an hour.”

“We still have the bottles from yesterday.” Sirius jumped to his feet, dragged a repurposed drawer from under his bed, and inspected the potion in the light. A grin flashed over Sirius’s face. “We could try it again.”

“Peter’s currently in the hospital wing, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“It was probably the dose,” Sirius said. “He took a really big gulp.”

“I can’t believe Peter volunteered to test it.” The sentence had left Remus’s mouth before he could stop it. “I mean—”

Sirius’s eyebrow quirked, and his grin widened. “He did need some convincing.”

Remus kneeled next to the drawer, pushing the different phials around. “How many bottles do we have left?”

“Just the ones you can see.”

“Empty ones, I mean.”

“Oh. I don’t know.”

“We’ll need a lot more,” Remus said.

James and Peter entered the dormitory soon after.

“You okay?” Remus asked.

Peter nodded. “Madam Pompry gave me a potion,” he croaked.

“Pomfrey,” Remus and James corrected at the same time.

“How long until your voice is back?”

“Not long,” James said. Rummaging for the invisibility cloak in his trunk. “She said it would take an hour at most.”

Remus leaned against his bedpost, peering at James’s trunk. He hid the shaking of his hands by crossing his arms. This was the first time James would lend the coak to anyone. Remus could barely believe it. His mind strayed to the sketches he had stuffed in the bottom of his suitcase. Being invisible would certainly make creating them easier. “Do you want to wait until it’s kicked in?”

Peter shook his head, pacing. He seemed as excited as Remus at the prospect of borrowing the cloak.

“Don’t get caught,” James said, handing over the strangely cool material. He held on to the fabric for a moment longer than necessary.

“I promise,” Remus said.