Year One: To Mischief And Mayhem

The new year’s full moon had been bad. Remus had woken late to the muttering of Madam Pomfrey as she was escorted into the cellar by his mother. Remus had tried to move but was only met with a burning pain.

He had a deep laceration that ran all the way from the hairline on his neck over his shoulder blade to the inner side of his arm. Madam Pomfrey struggled to close the wound all the way. She also discovered a rather nasty bite on his leg.

The fever lasted longer than usual. When his father apparated him onto platform nine and three-quarters for the Hogwarts Express Sunday morning, Remus had a hard time keeping down his breakfast.

“I don’t want to see you off like this,” his father murmured.

“I’m fine, Dad,” Remus answered. “It’s not your fault, and it wouldn’t do much good if I stayed home.”

His father was quiet, but waited until the train set off, waving from the platform edge.

Remus chose a compartment at the very end of the train, hoping to get in some sleep before the feast in the evening. He hadn’t spotted the other boys yet—his father had apparated to the back of the platform, and Remus didn’t have the energy to search the train.

He leaned his head against the window, relishing the feeling of the cool glass against his burning face. He was bundled up in his new jumper, pulled up almost to his ears and over his palms to hide the new jagged scar.

The compartment door slid open.

“Who do we have here?” Snape sneered. Remus jumped, shaking his head. His vision was swimming, but Snape’s outline covered the door. He was flanked by two Slytherins Remus didn’t know. He supposed they were older than him. “Loony Lupin, alone. Have your friends finally gotten sick of you?”

“Shove off, Snape.” Remus searched his pockets for his wand as discreetly as he could. It was pointless—Snape had his wand already pointed at him.

“Incarcerous,” Snape said, and ropes shot from the tip of his wand, snaking themselves tightly around Remus. Snape’s companions roared with laughter. He tried to wiggle free, but each movement only prompted the ropes to tighten.

“Very funny, Snivellus,” Remus wheezed.

“That’s only the beginning,” Snape spat. “This is payback.”

Remus couldn’t help asking, “What for?”

Snape tutted, moving closer. Remus’s eyes closed involuntarily.

“Oi, Snivellus,” a voice from outside—James, or perhaps Sirius—called. Remus wheezed, focusing his efforts on staying conscious. “What are three wayward Slytherins doing this far back on the train?” Remus heard scuffling ensue. “Have your parents finally bought you shampoo for Christmas, Snivellus?”

Remus wanted to bang his head against the window. Only Sirius would make a comment like that in this situation. Hands began pulling at the cord around his neck. “I can’t get it off,” Peter squeaked.

“Move over,” Sirius said. “Diffindo.”

The string broke, and Remus coughed, blinking tears away. Peter and Sirius removed the rope from Remus’s body. James, shouting at the top of his lungs, towered over Snape, who was lying awkwardly on the floor. Remus wiped the tears from his face.

“Are you alright?” Peter whispered. Remus nodded, swallowing. His throat was raw, and he had trouble slowing his heartbeat, but nothing out of the ordinary.

“What’s Snivellus doing on the floor?”

“Stunned him,” Sirius said, leaning against the window. “Why are you all the way back here, anyway?”

Remus shrugged. “We were late. Dad apparated to the back of the platform.”

James had finally stopped shouting and faced Remus, clearly out of breath. Remus was surprised no one had come and checked what all the noise was about.

“What do we do with him?” Peter asked.

The boys looked at Snape, petrified, his feet in the compartment. His friends had apparently run off. “The spell will wear off,” Sirius said. “We could just leave him.”

“We’re in a compartment a few carriages up,” James said.

“Can you end the spell?” Remus asked.

“Why would I?” Sirius answered.

Remus shrugged. “I feel bad just leaving him here.”

“He could have killed you, Remus,” James said, a hand on Remus’s shoulder.

“But he didn’t.” Remus looked around. The others stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “Please?”

“Fine,” Sirius muttered, pointing his wand at Snape. “Finite.”

“I don’t need your help, Loony,” Snape spat as soon as he’d scrambled to his feet.

Sirius looked ready to break his nose, but Remus whispered, “It’s fine. Just leave it be.”

“We can’t just let him get away with this,” Sirius shouted when Snape had left.

“What do you want to do?” James asked.

“Teach him a lesson,” Sirius said at the same time as Peter murmured, “We could tell McGonagall.”

“We don’t need to do anything,” Remus moaned. “I think he understood the first time.”

“Bollocks,” Sirius said.

“Come on, lads, let’s talk about this back in our compartment.”

Remus categorically refused to partake in any prank planning the boys had taken to. Soon, he fell asleep, his face against the glass, relishing the relief the cold brought. They’d attempted to wake him for lunch when the trolley came by, but Remus only groaned, pulling his knees to his chest. His father had given him five sickles to buy lunch, but he felt sick. By sunset, the others had convinced him to have some of James’s leftover pumpkin juice and a chocolate frog Peter had saved for him. Remus had to admit he was getting peckish.

The next morning, the marks from the rope were already mostly invisible if he hadn’t known to look for them. His scar, on the other hand, worried Remus. With the haircut his mother had given him over Christmas, his school shirt just barely covered the red line, and once he’d have to change into the flying robes provided by the school, there was no hiding it.

It also didn’t help that none of the boys had made progress on a group name. All they’d done was come up with outrageous ideas, one more unlikely than the next.

They walked to Transfiguration early on Tuesday because Sirius complained that the Great Hall breakfast buzz stifled his creativity.

“Wait—What about Crimson Shadows?” James asked, rooted to the spot.

“Why?” Remus asked.

“Our house colours are red, and we’re fast as shadows.”

“Shadows are only as fast as the ones casting them,” Remus said. “If we call ourselves Crimson Shadows, we might as well call ourselves Shadow Stalkers or something equally stupid.”

They passed by a tabby cat sitting by the barren tree in the corner of the courtyard. “What about Snapback Squad?” Peter asked.

“What does that have to do with us?” James asked.

“Well, we usually get revenge on someone, so we snap back. Get it?”

“We’re not calling ourselves the Snapback Squad, Peter,” Sirius said.

“I mean, it’s better than James and the Potters,” Remus said.

The classroom was unlocked, even though McGonagall was nowhere in sight. Two Ravenclaw boys already sat in their seats, reading. Remus slid into his usual spot in the front row, surprised to find Sirius joining him. Ever since he’d seen the scars, he seemed to follow Remus everywhere. “I have a suggestion—What about Mischief Mavericks?”

James lounged next to Peter behind them. “Good idea, Sirius—”

Remus turned around, resting his arms on the bench. “I am not referring to myself as a member of the Mischief Mavericks.”

“What about the Banter Band?”

“James, please,” Remus groaned.

“What nonsense are you Marauders up to now?” Professor McGonagall asked crisply. They spun around. Professor McGonagall stared over the rim of her glasses, standing behind James’s shoulder. She didn’t wait for an answer. Sirius whispered to Remus, “Did I really just see the tiniest twitch in the corner of her mouth?”

“It’s not bad,” James muttered under his breath. Remus rolled his eyes.

He was careful to pay attention to McGonagall’s lecture. The class was to transfigure living creatures for the first time. McGonagall distributed worms to each of the students. A few people squealed, poking the creatures with their wands to keep them from flopping off the tables. They were instructed to turn the worms into bracelets. Sirius managed on his second try, whilst Remus was left with a slimy chain. On his next attempt, the bracelet no longer excreted gunk, but the individual links were distinctly made of flesh. Remus sincerely hoped worms couldn’t feel pain.

The boys sat through a tedious charms lecture, their legs bouncing under the table, before they could finally race to the Great Hall for lunch.

“So?” James began, when they were all seated. “Marauders?”

They nodded, grinning. Sirius raised his cup. “To mischief and mayhem!”

“To mischief and mayhem!” the others chanted, clinking their cups.

Not even seeing Snape during the afternoon potions lesson could spoil their mood. They started the work on a healing potion, which would take a week to complete.

James dragged them into the castle grounds as soon as class was finished. “I’m cold,” Peter protested.

“We have to celebrate.”

“Can’t we do that in front of the fireplace?” Remus asked. “With hot cocoa?”

“I was thinking: a proper snowball fight,” James announced. “I pick Lupin.”

“Come on, that’s not fair,” Sirius said.

Remus shrugged. “Alright.”

They followed James out onto the snowy slope. “Okay, Lupin, come here,” James gestured. “We need a fortress and plenty of balls. You know the levitation charm best. We’ll use that once the game begins. It’s like duelling.”

Remus didn’t mention that he didn’t know how exactly duelling worked either, but he got to erecting a snow bank. Remus packed the snow tightly, moulding it into a sturdy wall that would serve as their defensive position.

As Remus finished the wall, James returned with a grin, a large pile of snowballs behind him. Once Remus had created a sufficient supply of snowballs, he stood back and admired his handiwork. The snow bank stood tall and sturdy, ready to serve as their fortress. He glanced over at James, who was playfully twirling his wand between his fingers.

“Alright, Lupin, well done,” James said with a mischievous grin. “Now, the key to a successful snowball fight is accuracy and speed. We’ll have to dodge their attacks while launching our own,” James declared. “You done, lads?” he called over to the others.

Sirius answered with a barrage of snowballs hurtling toward their fortress. Remus swiftly ducked, the icy projectiles passing over his head. He peeked out from behind their wall, assessing the situation. The snowballs streaked across the sky, zooming toward their opponents with surprising accuracy—others collided mid-air, exploding into fluffy showers upon impact.

As the sun began its descent below the horizon, casting a pinkish hue over the snow-cloaked landscape, they decided to call a truce. Panting and flushed, they gathered in a circle, their breath creating small puffs of mist in the frosty air.

“That was epic!” Sirius exclaimed, wiping a stray clump of snow from his curls.

James beamed, his eyes sparkling with exhilaration. “We make a formidable team, don’t we?”

Remus couldn’t suppress a laugh, his hands burning from the cold.

After dinner, the Marauders occupied a table by the fireplace of Gryffindor Tower, and spread out their books. They’d only been back two days, but the homework had stacked up already. Peter sighed, leafing through the pages of their History of Magic textbook. “How are we supposed to keep up with all of that?”

Remus busied himself with his charms homework. He’d been rereading the same chapter for the third time, but couldn’t find the reference to the animative function of spells Professor Flitwick had mentioned in the assignment. Frustrated, Remus shoved the book away.

“What’s wrong?” James asked, looking up from his Quidditch magazine.

“I can’t find the reference,” Remus complained.

“Which one?” Sirius perked up, tipping his chair forward. He was always balancing on the back legs of his chair, unable to sit normally.

“The one he mentioned.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s right there,” James said, skimming the chapter. “I looked at it during class. It’s on page two-seventeen, or something like that. Towards the end.”

“It’s not there,” Remus insisted.

“It has to be. Black, hand me my book, will you?”

James pushed his glasses up on his nose, laying the two books over one another. “Your book is different from mine.”

Peter looked up, his quill between his lips. “Why is your book different?”

“Here, take mine,” James said, shoving his book over. “I’ll finish my Defence Against the Dark Arts notes first. Merlin knows that old hag will knock off marks for tidiness again.”

Sirius had snatched Remus’s book. “It’s from the nineteen thirties. Where’d you get that from?”

“My dad got my school supplies over the summer.”

“Why would Flourish and Blotts sell two different versions of the same book?” Peter asked.

Sirius shook his head. “Firstly, Peter, it’s called editions, and they wouldn’t. I reckon this has been out of print since before we were born. Must be from an antique shop. Look, it has a name in the back. Lyall L. Do you know him?”

“That’s my dad,” Remus mumbled, seizing the book from Sirius. “It doesn’t matter. Thanks, James.”

“Cheers,” he answered without looking up.

“So, what are we doing about Snivellus?” Sirius asked. “Have you had another one of your brilliant ideas, Lupin?”

“No, and we don’t need to—”

“Black’s right. He could have killed you, Remus,” James said.

“He was probably mad that you hexed him in December.”

“Served him right, ugly git,” Sirius said, grinning.

“If you hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have come after me on the train.”

“We don’t know that,” James said, putting away his quill. “Regardless, we’ve got to do something about him.”

Remus groaned, letting Sirius and James brainstorm on their own. He didn’t have the energy to pitch in his ideas. Snape was exhausting, and Remus couldn’t understand why he hated him so much. After all, Snape didn’t know what he was—at least, Remus hoped so. His hatred of James and Sirius was understandable. They’d had it out for the Slytherin boy ever since they’d first laid their eyes upon him. But Remus, he didn’t do anything harmful. And that nickname—Remus hated it.

He gathered his books and parchment. He wasn’t going to get any more work done tonight.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked.

“Bed,” Remus mumbled, yawning. “Wake me for astronomy, will you?”