Happy Halloween
SUNDAY. OCTOBER 31, 1971.
Remus has been counting down the days to Halloween ever since James and Sirius woke up the dorm with the announcement that they’d be pulling a second prank. Whether the bubbling feeling in his stomach had been dread or excitement is honestly anyone’s guess. But he hadn’t put up a fight. He’d spent that energy on planning instead.
And he’d come up with a damn good plan.
To be fair, Peter had helped…
Maybe helped isn’t quite the right word. Peter had accidentally come up with a brilliant idea that Remus then spent weeks working out how to execute.
That’s all that’s left now. Remus thinks as the boys all stare up at the hidden entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. Execution.
Sirius is the first to speak. His slender hands have balled up into fists by his side. They quiver a touch when he turns to his friends. “Wait out here until I give you the signal.” He shrugs off his mink coat and hands it to James. James’ cowboy hat slips from his head and dangles from his neck, held in place by the laces.
Remus tuts. “I told you that was too big.” He sighs.
James sticks out his tongue and pushes the hat back into its rightful position on his head.
“Don’t be a killjoy, Lupin,” Sirius says.
Remus rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond. He catches James’ eye as he shoots the shorter boy an appreciative glance. Black can be a bit chopsy even at the best of times. Remus does his best to ignore him. Hope would want him to be nice. Plus, it makes life easier for James. Besides, Remus sees right through Sirius’ sad little snippy act. He’s obviously nervous. Sirius glares up at the stone wall, sweat glistening on his brow.
Peter’s purple face peers out at Sirius from a safe hiding spot behind James. “Are you alright?” He asks.
Sirius’ mouth puckers. He nods without looking away from the wall. “Yeah. ‘Course.” He clears his throat and runs his hands through his hair, mussing it up in a manner that makes it look terribly similar to James’ unruly mop. “Galleons.”
The wall falls away, and there’s a hot lick of something like fear in Remus’ belly. “Don’t get caught.” He implores.
Sirius raises a brow at him. He frowns. “I’ll be right back.” He says, shaking his head in indignation.
Remus feels himself flush, slightly ashamed of his nerves. Peter squeezes his shoulder, and Sirius slips through the wall.
Sirius doesn’t understand. Of course he doesn’t. Why should he? Why should any of Remus’ friends? They can afford to get caught. Remus can’t .
James catches his eye. The cowboy’s lips quirk up into a grin. Remus just stares.
A remembrall rolls out of the wall, stopping abruptly once it hits James’ cowboy boots. The moths in Remus’s stomach dissipate. He feels himself smile. James whoops excitedly. “Galleons!”
James is gone before the wall has even entirely disappeared. Remus and Peter follow behind.
The Slytherin common room is positively enormous. Much bigger than the Gryffindor common room. It’s decorated like a lush banquet hall, something out of an imperial palace. Remus does his best not to gape. It’s difficult.
It’s even more difficult not to sour when he sees Sirius grinning down at the others from the top of the stairs. He tries not to dwell on the fact that Sirius Black’s entire estate probably looks like this. Tries is the operative word. It’s impossible not to think of his mother’s cottage– impossible not to compare.
To his credit, Remus manages not to scowl as Sirius glides down the elaborate stairway. Just barely. Sirius stretches his arm out to James and catches the fur coat. He shrugs it back on. Remus looks away.
“Do we go one by one?” Peter asks. He’s stationed at the bottom of the staircase, craning his neck to peer into the hallway at the top.
Remus shakes his head. “No time for that. We’ll split up.”
Peter’s eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t argue. James grins and knocks shoulders with the purple boy. “Up we go.” He says, practically prancing up the steps two at a time.
Peter follows James, as always. Remus finds himself lingering for a moment. This place makes his stomach churn. It’s very cold. Sunlight refracting through the murky lakewater casts sickly green shadows on the floor, giving all the opulence a haunting hue.
“Lupin?”
Sirius stands with one foot on the bottom step. His head is cocked like that of a thoughtful hound.
“Are you coming?”
Remus wrinkles his nose. His mouth puckers. “Somebody ought to keep watch.”
Sirius rolls his eyes. Remus narrows his own in irritation. He turns away from the taller boy, but Black is persistent. He slides right back into Remus’ field of vision.
“Nobody’s coming.” He says. “They’re all at the match.”
Remus doesn’t respond. Sure, they’re all at the match for now. But it’s entirely possible some students might leave early. He shakes his head. Sirius huffs.
“Stop being ridiculous.” He snaps. “You stick out like a sore thumb. If you stay down here, you’ll be the first to get caught.” With that, Sirius turns on his heel and marches up the stairs.
Remus’ heart quickens, irritation and anxiety coursing through him in equal parts. He wants to flick him. He wants to flick Sirius Black right in his posh little nose.
He heads up the stairs, making a beeline for the first closed door in sight. The insides almost make him dizzy. This whole dormitory makes him feel sick, and he has half a mind to wonder if a great number of Slytherin girls wear silver jewelry. He shakes himself out of the thought.
It’s terribly dark inside the bedroom. Dark and ornate. Obsidian and emerald as far as the eye can see. Coal-colored trunks sit at the foot of each bed– no doubt hexed to bite off any wandering fingers. He avoids the trunks for now and flings open the first wardrobe he sees. Remus indiscriminately yanks robes from their hangers and piles them on the floor. He shoves socks in his pockets, squashes neckties into easy-to-transport balls of cloth, and hides undergarments in pillowcases. He can hear James’ peals of laughter from all the way down the hall, and despite the smile that wriggles its way onto Remus’ face at the sound, it makes him nervous. He moves faster, eager to be back in their dorm where that laughter is a proper sound of celebration, not an alarm.
Rather than bother with carrying the pile of robes very far, Remus abandons them in the doorway when he switches rooms. As he exits, he taps the door with his wand. “Perobice Vestaire.”
There’s an almost imperceptible shimmer in the archway for a split second. Remus smiles. Peter nearly trips over the pile of robes as he’s heading to his next room.
It may not be the most efficient system, but the boys are eager enough to make quick work of the hallway. When Remus enters the last room, he finds Sirius already inside.
Black is bent over a trunk, his back to the door. His head quickly snaps to the door when it creaks, and he shoots upright at the sight of Remus. He tucks something into his coat and wipes at his face.
Remus raises a brow. But before either boy can say anything, the others arrive. He surveys the lot. Peter had chosen to stuff most of the clothes under his sweater, making him look every last bit like Violet Beauregard amidst her berry-bound misadventure. James had tied together a long chain of Slytherin ties and slung them over his skinny shoulders the way a hunter might wear the skin of his latest kill... or the way a woman might wear a feather boa. Either or.
There’s suddenly no need for words as the boys descend upon the room. James and Peter, giggling like fools, continue to shove socks under Peter’s sweater until it seems the stitching might burst. Remus folds robes and adds them to a growing mound in the center of the room to divvy up once they’ve finished. Sirius stuffs his coat pockets with ties.
After they manage to drag their loot down the stairs– James gets the bright idea to tie up the robes in a couple of bed sheets, which makes the whole ordeal a great deal easier– they’re met with a small problem.
“We can’t go up there,” Sirius says, blockading the girl’s staircase.
James laughs. “It’s alright, mate. We-”
Sirius’ eyes grow a touch frantic. “No. We can’t go up there.”
James’ smile falls.
“What do you mean?” Peter asks.
“We’ll turn into frogs or something!” Sirius says. “I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s cursed.”
“Cursed?!” Peter cries at the precise moment that James scoffs, “What do you mean cursed?”
“To ward off men. Like the one in our tower.”
Another sharp spike of irritation raises Remus’ heart rate. “You didn’t think to mention this before?” He tries to speak evenly.
“I figured you lot must know.” Sirius seems equally irritated, though Remus has no idea why.
“Not all of us spend half our time down here, Black!” Remus snaps.
Sirius’ mouth shuts with an audible clack. He turns a funny shade of red. James reaches out to him, but Sirius smacks him away. He pushes past the others to stand by the loot.
Sirius’ retreat only feeds Remus’ ire. “Where exactly are we meant to cast the spell, then, if we can’t get up there?” He directs the question at Sirius, although he knows the boy has no answers.
Of course not. No answers from Sirius. No help of any kind. Just demands and desires. I want to get back at Severus. I want to prank all the Slytherins. I want you to come upstairs with us. What else Remus ever expected from the aristocratic sort, he doesn’t know.
“We could use that door.”
Remus whirls around to look at Peter. He’s pointing at the doorway to the common-room. James grins, smacking Peter on the back.
“Petey, that’s brilliant!”
Peter pinkens, smiling down at his shoes.
“The girls will be able to change.” Sirius frowns.
Peter crumples a bit, but James waves Sirius off. “The older boys probably know a counterspell anyway. It’s the thought that counts.”
Sirius doesn’t protest again. His eyes widen imploringly for a moment, but James just waves at him again.
“Remus?” James asks. “Think it’ll work?”
Remus nods. “It ought to.” He walks up the doorway, craning his neck to properly see the top of the arch. “It’s a bit big…”
“Nothing we can’t manage,” Sirius says.
For a moment, Remus thinks Sirius might be talking about him. But when the taller boy clasps James on the shoulder, it becomes evident he was wrong. Sirius pulls out his wand.
“Hang on!” Remus says, forcing down the other boy’s hand, “We should do it from outside.”
Sirius pulls away from Remus’s touch as though he’d been burnt. “Right.” His mouth twitches. “‘Course.”
***
The Quidditch match lasts far longer than anticipated. By the time Slytherin eeks out a win (by just twenty points, mind you), it’s already dark. Remus and his roommates decide to camp out in the Great Hall and await the evidence of their own little victory.
“I’m telling you,” James says as he tears a third serviette to shreds. “It’s rubbish. Totally unfair. Hooch is biased.”
Remus feels his lips quirk, and he struggles to maintain a sympathetic expression. “Right.”
“She is!” James insists. “She feels bad for them ever since I socked Aubrey for Evans.”
“That was more than a month ago, butt,” Remus says.
James scowls. “And yet, she’s still thinking about it.”
“Evans or Hooch?” Peter asks.
James quits ripping at the paper. He turns to Peter. “What?”
Peter collects the shreds of serviette off the table and pockets them. “Who’s still thinking about it? Evans or Hooch?”
“Hooch, obviously.” James frowns. “Why would I be talking about Evans?”
Peter shrugs. Before he formulates a response, Sirius practically leaps across the table to grab James’ arm. James’ round glasses nearly slide straight off his face as he jolts backward.
“Look!” Sirius whispers.
Remus follows Sirius’ gaze to find an incredibly red-faced Bertram Aubrey dressed up like a picture-perfect Long John Silver.
It worked.
Excitement erupts in Remus’ stomach. It actually worked. He hears James’ breathless laughter as though from far away.
The arrival of Aubrey, though magnificent, was not the main event. A hush falls over the boys as they eagerly await the guest of honor. A few more costumed boys show up, a few girls with strange hair, a couple older boys who look entirely unaffected… Remus begins to worry they may have done something wrong.
Until the man of the hour enters the room: Severus Snape, skin a nauseatingly bright shade of orange, hair a lovely hue of Slytherin green, all trussed up as an Oompa Loompa.
Sirius bloody loses it. Remus has never heard him laugh this loudly before, and it’s… something. His eyes are scrunched shut because his smile is so wide. His coifed hair is falling out of shape because he’s leaned forward to hide his face in James’ arm. Remus looks away.
“Brilliant!” James wheezes. He clutches Peter’s arm with the hand impeded by Sirius and swipes at Remus with the other. “Bloody Brilliant!”
A smile stretches across Remus’ face. As if the dam had been broken, Hordes of costumed Slytherins join the rest of the school in The Great Hall. Almost every bird simply changed clothes, and several older lads must have transfigured their clothes back to normal. But it’s a glorious sight regardless. Some folks are in standard Slytherin robes, but their skin has been stained ridiculous colors. If you ask Remus, that’s almost funnier than the students stuck in costume.
Sirius waves at his cousins. The eldest one, the only seventh-year still costumed, waves back. The puffy sleeves of her pink dress almost impede her movement, but she’s smiling. She straightens her crown as she bends over slightly to speak to her shorter sister. The younger one looks nearly normal. Nearly. Remus would have no idea what her costume had been if it weren’t for her green skin.
Sirius sticks his tongue out at her, looking less posh than Remus has ever seen him.
“Serves her right.” He sniffs.
Peter wipes tears from his eyes. “She’s green!”
“You’re purple, Pete,” Remus reminds him.
“Yeah, but I’m purple on purpose.”
Peter’s lovely. Remus giggles.
“Listen to that,” James says, wide-eyed. “Would you just listen to that?”
The Great Hall is full of laughter and chatter– all about the Slytherins. There’s not a single table that isn’t commenting on their “interesting attire.”
“We did that!” He smiles.
He’s right, Remus realizes. We did this. All the noise bouncing around the room is excitement over a trick they pulled-- he and his friends. His friends. Something warm settles over Remus as he drinks it all in. It’s good. He has to admit it. It’s a very good feeling.
All good things must come to an end, though, and eventually, it’s time for Dumbledore’s speech.
The Headmaster clears his throat, and the laughter quiets. He smiles kindly at the crowd. “Good evening.” He says.
Remus echoes his greeting in tandem with several others.
“I’d like to take this moment to wish you all a Happy Halloween. And,” He continues. “To compliment you on your costumes.”
There’s a second roar of laughter. Dumbledore allows it for a while. Remus soaks in it.
Then, the Headmaster begins again. “They’re all quite good. I commend you for getting into the holiday spirit.” He says, “I’m feeling quite festive myself. So I’ve decided to be lenient about the rulebreaking I hear has occurred this afternoon.”
The Slytherins grumble– Slughorn included. James looks utterly victorious.
“Apparently, a few mystery marauders thought it might be amusing to raid the rooms of their peers.”
Remus suppresses a snort. MARAUDERS, he mouths. Peter hides his face in his hands.
“I expect all missing items to be returned by sunrise,” Dumbledore says without a trace of humor. “I must warn you, I may not feel so friendly come morning.” The Headmaster stares out almost blankly at a sea of students. After a painful stretch of silence, his eyes regain their twinkle. “That is all.”
As soon as those words leave Professor Dumbledore’s lips, the feast begins to materialize.
James reaches for pudding first, piling a heaping slice of blueberry pie onto his plate. “Happy Halloween, lads.” He grins his too-wide grin.
Remus finds himself smiling right back. “Happy Halloween.”