Forsaken

Two
In which people are defined.

‘C'mon, James! It'll be awesome, it's flawless!' Sirius protested waving his arms about. It was Halloween, or near enough to it not to matter, and Sirius wanted, again, to attack the Slytherins; more specifically, Snape. It was only two months in and the two of them had already found their prey. Truth be told, I felt sorry for him. He hadn't done anything wrong. Well, okay, he had, but it wasn't any kind of misdemeanour… and it was one against two. I know that it's a Gryffindor's duty to prevail over the Slytherins at all costs, but I think that they were taking it too far. Especially since we hadn't been in school long enough to truly judge anyone. All that aside, I think that Snape was some kind of cousin to Sirius.

‘On Halloween! Sear, of all times! The professors know we'd do something on Halloween!'

‘Not necessarily.'

‘Sirius Black, are you telling me that they don't know us well enough by now?'

‘It's only been two months,' he smiled, innocently. ‘I don't think we've given them just cause yet.'

At this point I stopped trying to do my homework, I placed it to the side to wait to see who would win, even though I knew it wasn't a matter of that any more. If it ever had been.

‘They'll be eating, all we have to—‘

‘I know what we have to do! I'm not stupid,' James sighed in defeat. ‘But they'll expect it on Halloween. Especially Snivillus.'

‘I don't think so,' Sirius countered.

‘Although the reaction,' James mused, ignoring Sirius, ‘it's more than we've ever done before, Sear – '

‘Which is why – '

‘But I think those Slytherins need to be taught their place.'

‘And we need to see how high Snivillus can jump. Y'know, for educational purposes.'

‘Or for future reference.'

They shared a mischievous grin and Peter sighed audibly from across the room; the other two ignored him as they continued making plans for Halloween. They figured access would be easy, most students Third Year and up would be at Hogsmede or else wise enjoying their holiday, so the school would be more or less empty. They would concoct the potion on 30 October, so that they had it in advance and then slip it to him. Or something along those lines. It was about then that I stopped listening and I feared that Peter was doing the same.

They left, soon thereafter, I suspect it was to go ‘find' the missing ingredients. Peter looked after them as they left. I couldn't read him, I just watched him. He went back to puzzling out his homework, a ten-inch summary of a potions demonstration.

‘Remus, they're going to get in trouble,' Peter whimpered.

‘Probably.'

‘Aren't you going to stop them?'

I shrugged and left it at that. Peter, I had noticed, had a bit of a dependence on others that I hoped to rid him of. It wasn't overly chronic, but I could see it get in the way of things. I could sense his potential from the start, but he was too afraid to do anything on his own. I could see him want to spend more time with our rogue roommates, but he couldn't actually go up and tell them that.

So he spent his time with me. I wasn't complaining though, I didn't mind. It must have been boring, though, because I studied most all the time.

Monday 21 October 1968. This date I remember because it was the first time the moon took me out of school. I left, hoping that my peers wouldn't suspect my ‘family illness' as I dryly wondered how much longer I could tell them my mother was sick before they started asking me what she had and when she was going to just die.

At least it didn't fall on 31 October; I was actually looking forward to seeing how the prank would turn out, though I hoped that Snivillus wouldn't think Peter and I were in on it. Neither of us had a strong desire to join the hexing feud.

Wednesday came and our room was turned into a miniature apothecary with less than begin intentions. Then again, I suppose that depended on the person you asked.

‘Thank Merlin we get Halloween off class!' Sirius beamed.

‘You still have to do that write-up for McGonagall,' I replied quietly.

He shrugged nonchalantly, as did James. I knew though that they were both smarter than they let out. Neither of them spent as much time studying as I did–ever–but they both received good marks, easily slipping into the top of the class. It came naturally to them. Of course, that didn't mean they didn't try to wiggle their way out of anything. They did notes and essays at the last minute, often doing half and copying. Once or twice they used mine, but the thought to really hadn't occurred to them much at that point. They did brilliantly on tests, but that really didn't interest them. They were a paradox that amused me as I watched them from afar.

Peter, of course, watched Sirius, James and me with awe as if he was constantly asking himself ‘how could they do that?' Oh, well. There were seven years to improve him.

So we marched off to the Great Hall for Halloween dinner, and the Hall was decorated as never before. My parents had never really been that interested in Halloween, which isn't surprising seeing as they're French. The whole experience was, therefore, a new one (as was most of my year).

Peter and I sat with the first year girls, I was next to Donna Kent and he was next to Kay Jemmying. Just before they were missed the duo sat down, Sirius next to me and James next to Peter, and began helping themselves to food that wasn't healthy by any stretch of the imagination.

It was about halfway through the meal when there was a bright flash of light followed by yelling and screaming from the Slytherin table. The Gryffindors inevitably turned to see the Slytherins' misfortune. Snape had fallen backwards from the explosion as had three people on either side of him including the overbearing Malfoy prick.

The Gryffindors were hystrical and the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs strained to see as well. It seemed everyone was enjoying their misfortune. Even most of the teachers. Professor Virulent, the Head of Slytherin, was furious and began trying to blame innocent Gryffindors.

I looked up to the head table, at Professor Dumbledore, who gave me a perceptive look. He knew. It didn't look, however, like he would tell anyone.

One point for Gryffindor.