Year One: Fireworks and Filch

Peter shook Remus awake and dragged him out of bed.

“Come on,” Peter said, clamouring out of the portrait hole, almost falling on his face. Remus steadied him. “Thanks.”

Remus dug into his dinner, not able to withstand the delicious smells any longer. Sirius seemed too preoccupied with his afternoon to pay attention to Remus—a fact Remus welcomed. Despite the lingering exhaustion, Remus felt his heart race whenever he looked in Sirius’s direction.

Remus accompanied Peter to the kitchens. The house-elves already stood waiting, bowing when the boys entered. Remus blushed. Seeing the creatures with their huge eyes and lumpy sheets made him uncomfortable. The elves had prepared a red and gold frosted cake and wouldn’t let them leave without a jug of pumpkin juice and a heap of pasties. There was no indication the elves were mad about their meddling with the Halloween feast.

Remus felt out of place carrying the sweets in his arms without even a hint of a disguise. He followed Peter, whom he had never seen this confident before. Undetected, they made it to the fourth floor, Remus tickling the wall in various places until the door revealed itself.

“Wow,” Peter said.

They returned to the common room with an hour to spare.

“How do you do this?” Remus asked, amazed.

Peter shrugged, lighting up. “You have to look like you belong, and mostly hide behind taller people, I guess.”

Five minutes before curfew, James pulled Sirius into the common room by his sleeve. Remus and Peter waited in a window alcove playing chess—Remus was losing horribly.

“Alright?” James asked, bouncing on his heels.

“I think Peter’s beat me,” Remus admitted, yawning. James studied the board, nodding.

“What am I doing here?” Sirius asked.

James and Peter grinned, and even Remus couldn’t help smiling. “Your birthday surprise,” Peter announced.

“Shh,” James said. “Come here.”

They huddled together, checking if anyone was watching. James swung his cloak over their heads, the cool weight settling on Remus’s shoulders. He led them from the portrait hole, past the patrolling prefect. Peter knew what to expect from the passage, but James and Sirius oohed and ahhed as Remus made quick work of the hidden door.

Once inside the fourth-floor passage, Remus lit his wand, more for the others than himself. “Happy Birthday,” the three boys shouted in unison. Peter scurried off to retrieve the cake around the bend. Sirius’s face split into a grin.

“We don’t have candles,” James said, roughing up his hair. “Admittedly, we could have planned better on that front. But you could pretend to blow out Remus’s wand light?”

Sirius shook his head, admiring his cake. “This is bloody brilliant. Where did you get a cake from?”

“The kitchens,” Peter squeaked. “The house-elves are really helpful. We also got pastries and pumpkin juice.”

“And we’ve got these,” James said, pulling out colourful packets from his robes.

“You have not, Potter,” Sirius said. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Happy mayhem,” James said.

“You’re the best. That almost makes the dreadful tea party worthwhile.”

“Cheers,” James said.

They sat leaning against the walls of the narrow passage, eating the vanilla sponge cake with jam filling and talking about the beginning of the Quidditch season. James listed the players, their strengths and weaknesses, and compared them to the professionals from different teams.

Sirius, too, added his opinions, getting into a heated discussion with James and Peter. Remus struggled to keep up with the teams and names while finishing his second slice of cake and trying not to fall asleep.

“What d’you think?” James asked.

“I dunno,” Remus answered, blinking fast. Quidditch wasn’t a topic his father was particularly interested in. Occasionally, Remus had seen a picture in the sports section of the ‘Daily Prophet’. Beyond that, Remus was completely lost. Why on earth would a sport need four balls at the same time, anyway?

“Have you seen a Quidditch game before?” Peter asked.

Remus shook his head, glad that the passage was dark. He hoped the others couldn’t see his ears burning up. “We don’t leave home much,” he admitted.

“We’ll teach you anything you need to know Saturday,” James promised.

“We should get going,” Remus said, looking away.

The others agreed, and they packed the remaining pasties into their pockets. James tucked the neatly folded invisibility cloak into his school robes, and they set off, flitting along corridors lit by bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn, Remus expected to run into Filch or Mrs Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

The halls at night were eerily quiet. Occasionally, a portrait they passed snored or grunted, or one of the boys giggled to himself. The thrill kept Remus alert. Intently, he listened if he could hear any footsteps in the distance, but all he got were four racing heartbeats.

“What do we do now?” Peter whispered.

“Set off the fireworks, of course,” Sirius said, pointing his wand at a packet and throwing it down a corridor.

Remus heard a low sizzle before colourful light illuminated the passage, startling portraits awake. “Are you mental?” Remus asked.

The boys turned on their heels, speeding back toward their common room, James and Sirius chucking fireworks into every corridor they crossed. Remus nearly tumbled down a long spiral staircase, catching himself on the wall, the fireworks popping behind him.

He caught up with the others on the third-floor landing and ducked behind James.

“Where were you?” James hissed.

Remus struggled to breathe. Half-stumbling, James’s grip pulled him onward by his sleeve. They still didn’t slow their pace, and to Remus’s dismay, all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and his panicked heartbeat. An abrupt halt had him tripping over James’s foot, face-first, onto the floor. He groaned and looked around. Filch’s face loomed out of the darkness.

“Well, well, well,” he whispered. “We are in trouble.”

Filch took them to Professor McGonagall’s office on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Peter was trembling. There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night.

Professor McGonagall opened the door to her office and gave them a long, stern look as the four boys filed past her. Remus’s heart hammered so hard against his ribs that he half expected it to burst from his chest. What made matters worse was that Professor McGonagall’s eyes never left Remus. His skin crawled under her stare.

“It’s one o’clock in the morning. What have you to say for yourselves?”

Her gaze shifted between the four boys. Remus tried very, very hard not to squirm. He kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead, not meeting hers. The words weren’t coming to him. His mind raced as he tried to come up with some excuse. Even James seemed intimidated by her stern tone.

After several minutes without an answer, she continued, “Your behaviour has been most unacceptable. Four students out of bed in one night! I’ve never heard of such a thing before! You, Mr Lupin, I thought you had more sense than this. All four of you will receive detentions, and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor.”

“Fifty?” James gasped.

“Fifty points each,” said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose. “Now get back to bed, all of you. I’ve never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students.”

***

Gryffindor’s hourglass, displaying their house points, had always been low, barely scraping the bottom of the barrel. It stood along with the three others in the back of the Great Hall, the precious stones glowing in the candlelight.

Thursday morning, the glass was empty. Gryffindor table was in an uproar. The prefects had marched up to McGonagall and informed her that the hourglass was displaying the wrong number of house points, and she had bitterly informed them that their house points were, in fact, zero.

Remus’s day didn’t improve after that. During History of Magic, he overheard Snape snickering in the first row. To his surprise, he controlled his temper. Unfortunately, James and Sirius in the row behind him did not.

James scrambled out of his seat in the last row, knocking Sirius’s wand off his target. The spell hit Peter in the back, and James crashed into Remus, pinning him to the desktop.

Peter attempted to speak, but all that left his mouth were unintelligible grunts. Clearly horrified, he increased his volume until Professor Binns interrupted his monologue and turned to see where the noise came from. Lily, in an outrage, half-whispering, chastised both Snape for laughing, and the boys for disrupting class.

James’s attempts at explaining himself were interrupted by a sudden nosebleed, and a subsequent fainting spell, which was how Remus found himself in the hospital wing two days after the full moon listening to a lecture from Madam Pomfrey on his health and well-being.

He missed half of lunch, and by the time they left the transfiguration classroom, Remus was about to hex James. McGonagall had informed the four boys that their detention would take place on the weekend with the gamekeeper Hagrid, an enormous man Remus had seen out in the grounds.

Remus didn’t mind the detention—being glad he wasn’t expelled—but James’s nagging slowly drove him mad. They would miss the first Quidditch match of the season. By Saturday morning, he had contemplated asking Sirius if he could practise the tongue-tying-jinx on him, but ultimately decided against it.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but from the corners of his eyes, Remus thought he saw Sirius staring at him in the rare quiet moments. Nevertheless, he had been more careful, undressing only when alone and locked in the bathroom and keeping close to James and Peter, avoiding every possibility of being alone with Sirius.

The boys set off from the castle along with their peers, who were heading to the Quidditch pitch. The grounds were frost-covered and grey. Remus had wrapped himself in the thick school-issued cloak and a scarf his mother had knit two years ago.

Hagrid met them by the school gardens behind the castle and explained they would help him with his de-gnoming before winter. After a short instruction—neither James nor Sirius had ever learned—they were on their merry way, betting on who could throw them the farthest. Peter was in the lead, grinning. Remus’s gnomes barely made it over the wall.

In the distance, the announcements from the Quidditch game sounded, and if Remus really focused, he could make out the different cheers. When the boys stumbled into the common room to change before dinner, they learned that Gryffindor had won the match. James immediately made a group of boys from their year recount the game in every detail.

***

Remus felt half-dead for the days following their detention. His arms were sore, and Remus barely slept. He was cranky and, more importantly, behind on homework. He holed up in the library every free minute but found it hard to concentrate.

Lily, Mary and Marlene had invited him to study with them on Tuesday. Remus accepted, mainly because they could make sure he didn’t fall asleep ten minutes in.

“Are you alright, Remus?” Marlene asked when his head dropped precariously low once again.

He snapped up, smiling. “Oh, yeah, fine. Perfect. Why’d you ask?”

“You’re drooling all over your essay,” Mary said.

“What? Crap.”

A large wet spot had formed on the parchment, and the ink smeared.

“Maybe you should get some sleep?” Lily suggested.

Remus frantically searched for a fresh roll of parchment. He’d copy the essay. It was due the next morning. “No—I need to finish this first.”

Mary snatched his ruined essay. “What is it even?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts. We need to hand that in tomorrow.”

“You could go talk to Professor Bracegirdle. I’m sure she’ll understand,” Lily said.

Remus shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He had to push his hair out of his face. “I can just finish this. I’m fine.”

Lily snatched the roll of parchment from him. “Hey,” Remus protested, getting to his feet.

“I’ll copy what you already have,” she said. “You take a nap. How much are you missing, anyway? She said it only needed to be a foot long.”

“She’ll never be happy with that, and she’ll notice your handwriting.”

Mary yanked him by his sleeve. “She’s never offered to do our homework for us. Stop trying to talk her out of it,” she whispered.

“But-”

“No buts, you look miserable,” Mary said.

Remus grumbled, trying to find a comfortable position. The slow scratching of Lily’s quill soothed his mind. Slowly, the library faded out of focus.

In the end, Remus was glad for the extra sleep. He finished his essay over breakfast the following morning whilst sipping his tea. Three books lay open between the serving dishes and plates. The others watched him with a bemused expression.

The boys ran late for class, bursting into the room at the last minute. Professor Bracegirdle’s face hardened, and she collected the essays with a flick of her wand as soon as the bell rang.

“We will finish our study of magical beasts before Christmas,” Professor Bracegirdle began. The class instantly fell silent. “The second term we will dedicate to more practical wand work and the basics of duelling.”

A low murmur broke out. Excitement stirred in Remus’s chest. He’d been looking forward to duelling since he was young. He wondered if it would compare to the stories told in books in any way. He’d have to touch up on all the duelling spells he’d read about since September.

“For now, however, we will study red caps and gnomes. Take out your textbooks. The two have a similar appearance, and both are magical pests—but whilst one is harmless, feeding on the roots of your vegetable garden, the other could do serious harm to young witches and wizards like yourselves. Read the two entries, and with your partner, find the differences between them.”

Remus glanced at Sirius, who promptly looked away. Ever since he’d seen the scars, he stared. Outside of classes, Remus tried to stay as far away from Sirius as he could manage. Since James and Peter still behaved normally, Remus assumed Sirius hadn’t told them what he’d seen. 

Remus scratched his neck with the tip of his quill. “How d’you want to do this?” he murmured.

“I assume you’ve already done the reading?”

Remus had finished ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’ twice already, and could probably do the comparison from memory now. He nodded.

“Lend me your copy, then?” Sirius had his hand outstretched. “I don’t know where mine went.”

“You should really start keeping better track of your things,” Remus murmured, sliding over the book. “I’ll start with the gnomes.”

Sirius smirked. “I’ll do the red caps then.”

His hand shook when Remus reached for the inkpot. He tried reassuring himself that it was fine, and Sirius probably forgot everything about it. He scribbled distractedly, and Remus got to noting what he remembered, and some things he’d observed during their detention. He was running low on parchment. Perhaps he could get some from the school.

“Lupin?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Are you done? Do you need the book?” Remus shook his head. His list looked long enough. “Alright. Do you have any more parchment?”

Remus rummaged in his rucksack. He was one of the few people who used a bag—most of the others were older and had far more materials to lug around. All he could find was a wrinkled and smeared scroll with some room on the back. “This enough?”

“What’d you do with that?” Sirius asked, wrinkling his nose. “Feed it to a werewolf?”

Remus’s heartbeat picked up—he could feel moisture collect at his hairline. “W-What, why?”

Sirius’s eyes twinkled, and his face split into a wide grin. “Relax, Lupin. I’m pretty sure werewolves don’t eat parchment. It’s a thing you say.”

Flustered, Remus knocked over his inkpot. He cursed under his breath. He had to look at this logically. This was Sirius. He may know, Merlin knows he’d seen he scars, and he knew Remus was gone every month. How could he not? On the other hand, it could just be a thing wizards said. His father had always been careful around the w-word. Remus honestly couldn’t remember a time they ever talked about it at home.

Sirius snatched the parchment out of his hand. “So, what have you got?”

Remus shuffled the papers on his desk, trying to calm his breathing. “Um—here.”

Sirius circled several terms on his list. “And you’re sure you don’t have any other parchment?”

“I’m running out. Kind of,” Remus admitted.

“Oh,” Sirius said, looking up. “I already ran out in October. How much did you bring to last so long?”

“Did your family send you more?”

“Nicked it from Peter. He has plenty, and his parents send him some almost every week. I can get you some if you want.”

“No, thanks.”

“Alright.”

When the bell rang, Sirius was quick to collect his things. Remus took his time, trying to organise his notes in his bag.

Flying class was horrible, as Remus had expected it to be. Icy winds tore at him every chance they got, and Madam Hootch had made them do sprints on their brooms. Tears streamed down Remus’s face from the air, hitting his eyes. It was either that or flying blindly.

With stiff fingers, Remus hurried back to the castle as soon as class was dismissed. Madam Hootch stayed behind with at least half of the class, who wanted to keep on flying. James, of course, Sirius and Peter had taken her up on her offer.

Remus didn’t feel like sitting in the crowded common room, but he knew he had to keep himself busy, so he didn’t have time to worry about Sirius’s comment. He wandered through the corridors with no aim. He passed a statue of an ugly, round-bellied wizard with bushy eyebrows and climbed a spiral staircase he’d never used before.

The landing was small, and a narrow corridor led off into the distance.

A voice from inside a room said, “Mr Lupin?”

Remus spun around to see who had spoken and met Professor Bracegirdle, looking around her office door.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Where are your friends?”

“Flying,” Remus replied.

“Ah,” she said. She considered Remus for a moment. “Why don’t you come in?”

Remus wanted to refuse, but on what grounds would he do that? His friends were busy, and he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. He followed the witch into her office.

Bookshelves lined the small square room, except for a small passage through which Remus followed Professor Bracegirdle. Remus recognised the tower. They were exactly above the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, so the low door on one side must lead to the balcony. A low fire crackled in the fireplace, and Professor Bracegirdle gestured to a chair before her desk.

“Cup of tea?” she said, looking around for her kettle.

“All right,” Remus said awkwardly.

Bracegirdle tapped the kettle with her wand, and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.

A large, cracked glass spinning top rested on her desk. By the window, on a small table, stood an object that looked like an extra-squiggly, golden television aerial. It was humming slightly.

What appeared to be a mirror hung over the fireplace, but it was not reflecting the room. Shadowy figures were moving around inside, none of them clearly in focus.

“Like my Dark Detectors, do you?” Professor Bracegirdle said, passing Remus a mug of tea.

Remus nodded absentmindedly.

“Anything worrying you?”

“No,” Remus lied. He drank some tea and watched shadows float in a mirror on the mantlepiece, changing their direction at random intervals. “Yes,” he said suddenly, setting his tea on the desk. “Do you think I will be able to keep my secret until I turn seventeen?”

She sat behind the desk, her eyes on the papers stacked in front of her. “You will have to find a way. And not just until you are seventeen.”

Remus nodded. She’d always been nothing short of truthful with him. “I don’t think it is going particularly well.”

“It is your life that is on the line, Mr Lupin,” she said, her stare piercing Remus. “The ministry isn’t kind to dark creatures—and for a large part, it shouldn’t be. You have been a hard-working young man for the entire time I have known you, and I am afraid that if you want to live in wizarding society after school, it will require much more than hard work.”

Remus didn’t know what to say to that, so he drank some more tea. “You once told me you met other werewolves.”

“My speciality as an auror was the control of dangerous wizards, including werewolves,” she said. “Along with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I have met countless werewolves, especially those captured several times.”

“What are they like?”

She set down her mug and folded her hands. “Not like you.”

Remus swallowed, looking away. He swirled the liquid in his cup.

“You must promise me never to seek out any other of your kind.”

Remus nodded. “I wasn’t planning to.”

Professor Bracegirdle stood. “Well, I’d better get back to work.”

“Right,” Remus said, putting down his teacup.