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alotofgood) wrote2011-01-21 10:05 pm
alotofgood) wrote2011-01-21 10:05 pm
Entry tags:
post-011. 9 april 1976.
April 9, 1976 — 22:28 hours.
Hogwarts, Scotland
Boys Dormitories
Directly after this.
"— so what happened, then?" Sirius asks him, as they climb the steps to the boys dormitories.
"I'll tell you when we're inside," says James. "Moony's a prefect, remember? He's got to hear it too."
Then he sighs.
"But basically ... we should've been there, Pads. At Slughorn's idiotic party. We ... should've been there."
Sirius looks like he's about to make a teasing remark, but as they step into the dark room, lit only by a single lamp at Remus' bedside, he seems to decide not to.
Quite right, too.
Remus closes his book. "All right, James?"
"Yeah. There are a couple of things I need to tell you blokes," says James, before gesturing to the lump softly snoring on his bed. "Someone wake Peter."
Sirius gives him a soft kick in the side with the tip of his shoe. "Oy, Wormy."
Snuffling, Peter rolls over onto his back and blearily opens his eyes. "Mmmorning already?"
"No."
The sobered mood of the collective Marauders has Peter sitting up, a little more serious.
"What happened?" he asks.
James lets out a breath.
And starts to explain what Cliona had told him.
Sirius runs a hand through his hair. "So, tomorrow we're —"
"That's right," says James. "Tomorrow, if those Slytherin wankers so much as blink the wrong way, we hex them."
"You don't have to tell me twice," says Sirius. "I've been wanting to give Gibbon a fantastic set of purple-and-green boils to match his eyes."
Remus makes a sound.
It is an awfully prefect-y sound.
James holds up a hand. "Look, what they did to Evans isn't the only thing that bothers me about this, Remus," he says. (Though, admittedly, it's the most important to him right now.) "They're getting worse. Anyone can see that."
"Getting worse?" asks Peter.
"They're getting awfully familiar with the Dark Arts," Remus fills in. "Some are even saying You-Know-Who's been recruiting Seventh Year Slytherins."
"— like Gibbon," James finishes.
"But you can't just assume —"
"We don't have to assume anything, Remus," Sirius says. "Look at what happened at the party."
"And that no-good waste of space Snivellus kept very safely out of it all to avoid a run-in with his slimy mates," James spits. His hands are balled up into fists again.
"Well, we always knew Snape was a slippery trollop," Sirius says. "Even old Moldyshorts wouldn't recruit a twat like that."
James smirks. "Anyway, Moony, we more or less have the prefects on our side. It's against school policy to outright attack anyone, but you attack a prefect and you know the whole school's going to be in on it. Unless you're one of the snot-faced, horrible prefects. Then we don't really care."
"And we all know Evans is the opposite of that," Sirius says.
"Exactly."
Remus sighs. "I want to get back at them for what they did to Evans as much as you lot," he says, "but ... we just don't want to make things worse."
"How is sitting back, doing nothing any better?" James asks. "It just makes them think they can go around doing whatever they'd like without any repercussions."
"You know that's not it."
"Moony, despite my fondness for hexing tosspots, I've got to agree with James here. They'll take it as a victory if no one puts them in their place now. And who knows what they'll do next?"
"But if you attack them, it only escalates the problem."
"The way I see it," James says, readjusting his glasses (which have slipped down his nose), "Slytherin is going to attack anyway. Evans showed them up. They're going to retaliate. So what are we going to do about it? Let it happen again, or stop them once and for all?"
"I'm with Prongs," says Peter.
"So am I," says Sirius.
Remus holds up his hands. "Oh — bugger it all. James, you know I'm on your side. I'm just trying to be —"
"The voice of reason," James finishes, "I know. We know."
"And you're a most honourable man for it," Sirius adds. "But I think this is a different matter of honour now."
James nods. "Right. Evans' honour."
"And Gryffindor's honour," Sirius says.
Remus sighs. "And the Marauders' honour?"
James and Sirius exchange looks. "Well, can't go wrong adding a bit of our own honour into it, now can we?" says James.
"As is only right," says Peter, grinning a little.
"Just try not to blow up the train tomorrow," Remus says exasperatedly.
"A pity you're not going to be there," says Sirius. "We could use your expertise. Your knee-reversal hexes are divine."
Remus smiles despite himself. "Yes, that was one of my finer moments," he says, before shaking his head as though guilty. Then his expression becomes something else entirely. Something like dread. "Anyway, you know what Easter holidays are."
James is distracted from thoughts of hexes and Evans. "You'll be all right on your own?"
"If anything goes wrong, I've got Dumbledore," he says.
James nods. He feels as reassured as Remus sounds. "Right."
"And nothing will go wrong," he insists. "I've known you since we were First Years. I know how you think."
"Not worried," Sirius promises.
"Not worried at all," James agrees.
"If you need us, Remus ..." Peter starts.
Sirius nods. "Just say the word. Send an owl. Send a howler. I don't know, send a dirty sock."
"Not to my house, you won't," says James. "No offence, Moony. The owls are fine. I can even take howlers. But dirty socks? I've got to deal with Sirius. That's plenty enough."
"Oy!"
Peter starts to laugh.
"I assure you, there won't be any need for owls or howlers or ... dirty socks." Remus draws himself up in his prefect way. "Now, if you're going to properly execute this plan tomorrow, you ought to get some sleep. You're no good to Evans exhausted."
"Always the voice of reason, our Moony," says Sirius with a grin.
Remus rolls his eyes and snuffs out the light.
Hogwarts, Scotland
Boys Dormitories
Directly after this.
"— so what happened, then?" Sirius asks him, as they climb the steps to the boys dormitories.
"I'll tell you when we're inside," says James. "Moony's a prefect, remember? He's got to hear it too."
Then he sighs.
"But basically ... we should've been there, Pads. At Slughorn's idiotic party. We ... should've been there."
Sirius looks like he's about to make a teasing remark, but as they step into the dark room, lit only by a single lamp at Remus' bedside, he seems to decide not to.
Quite right, too.
Remus closes his book. "All right, James?"
"Yeah. There are a couple of things I need to tell you blokes," says James, before gesturing to the lump softly snoring on his bed. "Someone wake Peter."
Sirius gives him a soft kick in the side with the tip of his shoe. "Oy, Wormy."
Snuffling, Peter rolls over onto his back and blearily opens his eyes. "Mmmorning already?"
"No."
The sobered mood of the collective Marauders has Peter sitting up, a little more serious.
"What happened?" he asks.
James lets out a breath.
And starts to explain what Cliona had told him.
Sirius runs a hand through his hair. "So, tomorrow we're —"
"That's right," says James. "Tomorrow, if those Slytherin wankers so much as blink the wrong way, we hex them."
"You don't have to tell me twice," says Sirius. "I've been wanting to give Gibbon a fantastic set of purple-and-green boils to match his eyes."
Remus makes a sound.
It is an awfully prefect-y sound.
James holds up a hand. "Look, what they did to Evans isn't the only thing that bothers me about this, Remus," he says. (Though, admittedly, it's the most important to him right now.) "They're getting worse. Anyone can see that."
"Getting worse?" asks Peter.
"They're getting awfully familiar with the Dark Arts," Remus fills in. "Some are even saying You-Know-Who's been recruiting Seventh Year Slytherins."
"— like Gibbon," James finishes.
"But you can't just assume —"
"We don't have to assume anything, Remus," Sirius says. "Look at what happened at the party."
"And that no-good waste of space Snivellus kept very safely out of it all to avoid a run-in with his slimy mates," James spits. His hands are balled up into fists again.
"Well, we always knew Snape was a slippery trollop," Sirius says. "Even old Moldyshorts wouldn't recruit a twat like that."
James smirks. "Anyway, Moony, we more or less have the prefects on our side. It's against school policy to outright attack anyone, but you attack a prefect and you know the whole school's going to be in on it. Unless you're one of the snot-faced, horrible prefects. Then we don't really care."
"And we all know Evans is the opposite of that," Sirius says.
"Exactly."
Remus sighs. "I want to get back at them for what they did to Evans as much as you lot," he says, "but ... we just don't want to make things worse."
"How is sitting back, doing nothing any better?" James asks. "It just makes them think they can go around doing whatever they'd like without any repercussions."
"You know that's not it."
"Moony, despite my fondness for hexing tosspots, I've got to agree with James here. They'll take it as a victory if no one puts them in their place now. And who knows what they'll do next?"
"But if you attack them, it only escalates the problem."
"The way I see it," James says, readjusting his glasses (which have slipped down his nose), "Slytherin is going to attack anyway. Evans showed them up. They're going to retaliate. So what are we going to do about it? Let it happen again, or stop them once and for all?"
"I'm with Prongs," says Peter.
"So am I," says Sirius.
Remus holds up his hands. "Oh — bugger it all. James, you know I'm on your side. I'm just trying to be —"
"The voice of reason," James finishes, "I know. We know."
"And you're a most honourable man for it," Sirius adds. "But I think this is a different matter of honour now."
James nods. "Right. Evans' honour."
"And Gryffindor's honour," Sirius says.
Remus sighs. "And the Marauders' honour?"
James and Sirius exchange looks. "Well, can't go wrong adding a bit of our own honour into it, now can we?" says James.
"As is only right," says Peter, grinning a little.
"Just try not to blow up the train tomorrow," Remus says exasperatedly.
"A pity you're not going to be there," says Sirius. "We could use your expertise. Your knee-reversal hexes are divine."
Remus smiles despite himself. "Yes, that was one of my finer moments," he says, before shaking his head as though guilty. Then his expression becomes something else entirely. Something like dread. "Anyway, you know what Easter holidays are."
James is distracted from thoughts of hexes and Evans. "You'll be all right on your own?"
"If anything goes wrong, I've got Dumbledore," he says.
James nods. He feels as reassured as Remus sounds. "Right."
"And nothing will go wrong," he insists. "I've known you since we were First Years. I know how you think."
"Not worried," Sirius promises.
"Not worried at all," James agrees.
"If you need us, Remus ..." Peter starts.
Sirius nods. "Just say the word. Send an owl. Send a howler. I don't know, send a dirty sock."
"Not to my house, you won't," says James. "No offence, Moony. The owls are fine. I can even take howlers. But dirty socks? I've got to deal with Sirius. That's plenty enough."
"Oy!"
Peter starts to laugh.
"I assure you, there won't be any need for owls or howlers or ... dirty socks." Remus draws himself up in his prefect way. "Now, if you're going to properly execute this plan tomorrow, you ought to get some sleep. You're no good to Evans exhausted."
"Always the voice of reason, our Moony," says Sirius with a grin.
Remus rolls his eyes and snuffs out the light.