Ill-Fated Confidants
To nobody’s surprise (but everyone’s grumbling), all four boys woke up with the headache of the century. Only Marlene, who had been drunk long before them, came away unscathed, and Remus marveled at her energy when she bounced over and greeted them enthusiastically. James put his head in his hands in utter defeat (“I have Quidditch practice tonight”), and managed to stay that way for the entirety of their journey to the Great Hall for breakfast. Sirius had managed to produce a pair of ridiculous sunglasses that he was wearing with utter poise, but that made him look like something between a greaser and a housefly. Remus dutifully informed him of this, and was met with the finger.
“Well, you look like you died last week!”
Remus was unable to come up with a suitable retort to this and settled for a halfhearted punch to the shoulder. He had passed a mirror shortly after waking up and the only suitable reaction was a disgruntled “ohh.” His hair was sticking up every which way (how? He slept like a rock) and he was now sporting dark circles to rival those of an actual corpse. Sirius was right. Remus reconciled with being the walking dead rather quickly when they reached the Great Hall and were met with the glorious smell of coffee.
There truly is nothing like a hearty breakfast after a night of drinking. Even James managed to peel his face from his hands and was busying himself with a pile of bacon. Peter had commandeered the vast majority of the table’s pancakes, and Sirius had his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, gazing into it like he was contemplating every decision that led him to this point. Remus inhaled a plate of food and then promptly decided the sky was being a bit aggressive today (with all its light-emitting) and folded his arms on the table, resting his head on them. One hand remained vigilant on his coffee mug.
A few moments passed where Remus thought he might fall asleep at the table– and thoroughly contemplated doing so– before he felt a tapping on his head. He emerged from his nice, dark cocoon and squinted at the source of the tapping– it was Sirius, poking him in the head with his wand. “You alright, Moony?”
Remus carded a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m fine. The sun is out for blood today.”
Sirius snorted. “Don’t I know it. You going to come watch Quidditch practice tonight?”
“Don’t even know if I’ll make it through classes today.”
“And to think what brings down the mighty wolf is a few shots of Firewhiskey.”
Remus cast a woeful look in Sirius’ general direction. “I am quite sure that was nearly a bottle each.”
“Wouldn’t put it past Marlene.”
Remus made a noise that sounded something like agreement and they fell into a comfortable silence, both still nursing their coffees like they were a lifeline. Sirius distracted himself chatting with James about the evening’s Quidditch (which James seemed to be dreading less now that he’d consumed enough food to feed a small army) and Remus took a moment to just look at his friends. James, so often the center of attention, looking mussed but never defeated. Peter, cheery as always, chiming in now and again with a grin on his face.
Really, Remus had to admit, he spent most of this moment looking at Sirius. The light shone off his dark hair in the most fascinating way, making his dark hair look lighter, sparking with iridescence in the bright morning. His hair was sticking up at ends, but it suited him, like that stupid lopsided grin and messy tie and… Anyway, despite the evidence of a rough night painted across his features in dark circles and washed-out pallor, Sirius never looked anything but striking.
Sirius glanced over and caught Remus’ eye– whoops. He took a deep draught of his coffee and elected to pretend he wasn’t just staring.
Classes were rather anticlimactic, and Remus never found himself more pleased to have a half-day than when he freed himself from History of Magic. After lunch, the boys found themselves sprawled under a tree by the lake, basking in the afternoon sun (no longer an aggressor) and making idle conversation. It was a shockingly warm day for mid-October, and Remus sat with his back against the tree trunk and a book on his knee. Sirius was lounging beside him, arms behind his head and legs stretched out in the grass. Peter sat cross-legged beside James, who was also lying down but had his head propped on his hand so he could stare across the lawn at Lily and her friends down by the lake. Every so often, one of them turned to shoot James a dirty look, but he was undeterred.
James had been borderline obsessed with Lily ever since he first laid eyes on her five years prior, and he made no attempts to hide it. Lily, however, was coming up with rather creative ways to express her discontent with his advances– including, most recently, pushing him into a hedge. James was not pleased with how often Sirius would reach over and pick a twig out of his hair for days thereafter.
“James,” Remus spoke up after a moment of quiet observation.
Sirius glanced up at him, and then back at James, who had failed to respond due to his doe-eyed people-watching. Sirius twisted and reached around Remus to kick James in the leg, hard. “Prongs.”
James was snapped out of his stupor with a yelp of pain, to the great amusement of the other three.
“You’re being a creep, dude.” Sirius stretched back out, brushing his leg against Remus’ in the process.
James, deeply affronted by such a comment, spluttered for a moment before Peter interjected– “Go talk to her!”
“How many times has he done that, Peter? Clearly it won’t work this time.” As Remus spoke, a coy grin spread across his face. He knew exactly what he was going. He shot a meaningful glance at Peter, who had opened his mouth to protest, and then at Sirius, who caught on immediately.
“Yeah, we all know the drill. No point at all, Prongs. Tough break.”
James, indignant as ever, stood abruptly. “I will have you know that I know exactly what you are trying to do, and I am going over there entirely of my own accord!”
Remus and Sirius pasted on matching innocent smiles. “What ever do you mean, James?” said Remus, before James stomped off, huffing something about showing them.
“Don’t wind up in any foliage this time!” Sirius called out to James’ retreating form, flashing a shit-eating grin at Remus. Their laughter was met with a disapproving look from Peter.
“You guys didn’t need to be mean about it.”
“Did he not wind up going over there?”
“Yeah, but-”
“Sometimes he just needs a bit of pushing around, Pete. He’s got thick skin.” Sirius reached over Remus again (is he doing this on purpose?) and ruffled Peter’s hair to his great displeasure. While Sirius settled back into place and Peter ran a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to fix it, Remus’ gaze was drawn to a lone figure some twenty yards away.
It was a tall man wearing long gray robes. They looked tattered at the hem as if they’d been dragged through a dense thicket, and the sleeves were trimmed with a black embroidery in an indistinguishable pattern. His hood was pulled down low over his face, obscuring any distinguishable features, but he walked with a distinct limp. Remus looked around, but nobody else seemed to be paying him any mind. He was definitely an unfamiliar face– Remus wracked his brain for a moment, trying to remember if there had been any announcements of a substitute teacher at breakfast that morning. He cursed his hangover for clouding any observations, but he was quite sure nobody was missing from the Head Table.
“Hey, guys?..”
“Mmm?” Sirius replied from the ground, where he was now evidently half-asleep.
Remus jerked his head in the direction of the figure. “What’s going on with that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him around before.”
Sirius sat up straighter and leaned over, leaning up against Remus’ leg to get a better look. Remus (blushing) grabbed him by the collar and attempted (unsuccessfully) to pull him back. “Be a little more indiscreet, that’ll help!”
“Agh– you dick!” He cleared his throat. “Substitute teacher, maybe?”
Remus shook his head. “Everyone was here at breakfast. Something feels off, Pads.” He turned back toward Sirius to find him with an incredulous expression.
“You’re a dork. Only Remus Lupin would memorize the staff attendance at eight in the damn morning.”
Remus glared in response and turned his attention back to the man. He shifted and leaned back against the tree, trying to get a better angle on him. He hadn’t moved very far, and seemed to be staying within view of the tree the boys were under. Remus was trying to discern some distinguishing feature from under the shadows of the hood when the man looked over. Remus snapped his head back to his book, drawing it up close to his face and attempting to look nonchalant. It seemed to be too late, though. From the corner of his eye he could see the man hurrying back toward the castle. He waited for the man to get just out of sight before turning back to Sirius, who was knotting pieces of grass in a vaguely phallic shape.
“Did you see that?” He hissed.
“Hm? Did James get hit?”
“No, damnit. The creepy guy. The second he caught me looking in his direction, he ran off. He’s gone.”
Sirius’ head snapped up. “That’s a bit fuckin’ weird, Moony.”
“More than a bit. What the hell’s going on?”
“Too old to be a student, not a supply teacher. Is there any other reason for someone new to be on school grounds?” Peter piped up. He had his back toward the man and just barely managed to turn enough to see him before he ran back to the castle.
“Groundskeeper in training, maybe?” Sirius was tearing at the grass beneath him.
“You’d think they would have introduced him, then. And the whole hooded getup doesn’t scream groundskeeper to me.”
Their brainstorming was interrupted by James’ return, and Remus looked up to find him drenched in lake water with a lopsided grin plastered across his face. He held up foggy glasses in one hand and pushed a hand through his dripping-wet hair with the other. “So, what’d I miss?”
***
“You saw what?” James exclaimed as they made their way back to the castle. Remus had relayed the situation in hushed tones with excited interjections from Sirius and Peter. “This is insane! Someone is watching us?? Why?” He was practically jumping up and down at this point and only shut up when Sirius smacked him upside the head. James sheepishly quieted down, but his excitement wasn’t going anywhere. They reached the top of the castle steps and entered the foyer, making a beeline straight for the nearest staircase that would lead to Gryffindor tower– they clearly weren’t going to stop talking about this anytime soon, so better to do it somewhere more private. “It’s so sketchy though! Who would be slinking around the castle all stalker-like? And what do they want with us?”
“Haven’t the faintest clue, but if you don’t shut up-” Remus hissed, but stopped abruptly as they rounded a corner at the top of the flight.
All four boys caught sight of her at the same time. She was dressed in long, gray robes with a darker hat pulled down low over her brow. She had dark brown hair in a tight braid down her back and walked slowly– too slowly– down the opposite side of the stairs that the boys were climbing. The shadows from the hat combined with the overhead lighting made it near impossible to distinguish any of her facial features, but a faint, thin scar running the length of her jaw shone white. Cursing the castle’s dedication to ambience, Remus slowed his steps to match hers and stared out of the corner of his eye, hunting for some other distinguishing features. Everything about her was unsettlingly plain, except for a large ring on her right hand– a thick silver band with a blood-red stone set into it, and some kind of inscription Remus couldn’t make out before they had passed her.
He glanced over at the others, who all wore concerned expressions he was sure he was mirroring. Even James had sobered up, and the four of them shared a look that conveyed a resounding ‘what the fuck’. Wordlessly, they rushed the rest of the way up to the common room.
***
Remus had never seen James so fed up with The Fat Lady. He practically spat the password (meldrop) at her and they all jogged up the stairs, not speaking a word until their room was shut tightly behind them.
“What,” Sirius panted, “the fuck.”
“Yeah, that about covers it.” Remus slumped against the door, not sure if the speed of his heartbeat was from running all the way up Gryffindor tower or from the mystery people who had so suddenly taken an interest in them. Or just him? He couldn’t be sure.
James ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against his bedpost. He flicked water droplets off his hand and sighed. “Who are these people? Does anyone else know about them?”
Remus scoffed. “Question of the hour.” He slid down the door, sinking to the ground and crossing his arms over his knees.
Peter frowned. “Should we go to Dumbledore? He might know something about them– nothing gets by him.”
“I don’t want to bother him with something when we don’t know if it’s even an issue.” Remus pinched the bridge of his nose.
Sirius moved over to the wall next to the door and sat next to Remus, nudging his foot with his own. “Besides, would he even believe us? Since when are we known for our integrity?”
The others snorted in agreement, and they fell into a contemplative silence.
Eventually, the boys peeled themselves from the floor of their bedroom and headed down to dinner (but not before Sirius forced James to get changed– “you touched me. With your damp sleeve”).
Remus was wrapped in his own thoughts for the vast majority of the evening. He eyed Dumbledore at the Head Table. Does he know anything? If he does, he isn’t showing it. He scanned the room fervently throughout the whole meal, but no more grey-cloaked figures showed their faces. He didn’t even realize he was tapping his fork on the table until Sirius confiscated it.
“Moony. Are you alright?”
“What? Oh. Yeah. ‘m fine.”
The rest of the day passed by without event, but Remus couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply, irrefutably wrong.