'Twas Brillig, and the Slithy Toves

Molly met him at the door, looking somewhat frazzled. "Oh, Remus, it's you," she said, glancing past him. There seemed to be a bit of a commotion in the kitchen; Remus could hear the Weasley brood...chanting something. Never a good sign. He couldn't quite make out the words. "Tonks with you? No? Oh, well, I'm sure she'll be over soon. I need her help with--"

The chanting reached a crescendo. "The JABBERWOCK with eyes of flame--"

Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, them," Molly sighed. "Arthur's been trying to introduce them to Muggle poetry, I don't know why, they don't really take to it, but Fred and George seem to have taken a shine to this Carroll fellow, do come in, George get off that table!"

Bemused, Remus allowed himself to be ushered in. The little kitchen was a bit crowded. Fred was sprawled across several chairs, Ginny was leaning against the stove, and Ron and Harry were snickering together over by the sink. Even Hermione had joined in the hullabaloo, sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor. And George was indeed standing triumphant on the tabletop, conducting the chanting chorus with a saucepan. He leapt off with surprising grace at his mother's shout. "Oh, hullo, Lupin," he said. "We're rehearsing."

"Rehearsing?"

"We're preparing for the release of a new line of products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Fred announced proudly, tipping one of his chairs back precariously. "The Jabberwocky collection."

"We'll have Borogoves, Mome Raths, Bandersnatches--"

"And our Vorpal Swords will be legendary!" There was a certain gleam in Fred's eyes that recalled to Remus a very particular look on Sirius's face, back in their school days, which would have forewarned a minimum of two weeks' detention to come. Remus decided to steer clear of all Vorpal Swords that might or might not be sold by the twins in the all-too-near future.

"If we ever find a way to work relashio into the fabric of spells," George reminded Fred.

"Yes, but the side effects with the fixing charm--"

Remus cleared his throat politely. "When, exactly, is the Jabberwocky collection going to be unleashed upon the general populace?"

"Oh, it'll be a few months yet, at least," George said cheerfully. "But there's no harm in preparing for the release party a bit in advance, now is there?" He turned back to the other teenagers. "All right, you lot, where were we? Ah, yes. The tulgey wood." He clanked his saucepan on the side of the table. "Came whiffling through the tulgey wood..."

"And burbled as it came!" the rest joined in enthusiastically.

Molly threw up her hands in exasperation and snapped the back of George's head with a dishtowel.

And Remus leaned against the wall and laughed for the first time in the long weeks since Sirius had fallen.

*

"Moony! We've been looking all over for you! Oh, god, don't tell me you've been reading again."

"S'nothing wrong with reading, Pads. You might try it sometime. Expand your horizons a bit."

"My horizons are vast and expansive."

"And not at all redundant."

"Never. I simply was unable to properly express the incredible extent of my horizons without the use of synonymic vocabulary."

"And yet you call me the walking textbook."

"You are. I was merely condescending to your level of, er, speechness."

"Your eloquence is truly unrivalled, Padfoot."

"Thank you. I think. So what book could possibly be more important than the Christmas party downstairs? I mean, Wormtail honestly thinks he's going to pull that Hufflepuff bird with the big tits. Quality entertainment, my friend, and you're up here reading. I'll bet it's a Muggle book, isn't it? Come on, out with it."

"Worse. Muggle poetry."

"I don't think I can forgive you for this. I'm sorry. You are dead to me, Moony. I'm going to go back down now and raise a glass of firewhisky in your memory. And in memory of Peter's dignity, while I'm at it. So much death and destruction nowadays, such a tragic state of affairs. Is it at least good Muggle poetry, or is it Yeats again?"

"Lewis Carroll at the moment, actually. 'Jabberwocky.'"

"Oh, him! Well, that's all right then; he's only an honorary Muggle. Carroll was actually a wizard, you know. Taught at Hogwarts for a year or two, I think. Care of Magical Creatures."

"You're joking."

"No, really. All that stuff in the poem, it's all real. My aunt Elladora had a pet Jabberwock, kept it in a pen in the stables. Nasty creature. Nearly took my arm off when I was seven, and Aunty Elladora almost ripped the other one off when she found out I'd been pestering her ickle jabby-poo. Charming old witch, Aunty Elladora. You can see how Bella inherited her cheerful, easygoing nature."

"All right. I give up. Are you taking the piss, or not? It's really unfair of you to exploit my lack of pureblood ancestry."

"I solemnly swear I am telling the truth about Lewis Carroll and my aunty's pet Jabberwock."

"I distrust any oath that begins with 'I solemnly swear,' as you well know."

"Carroll was a kinky bastard. I mean, honestly, all that gyring and gimbling in the wabe? Sounds like an orgy to me."

"Everything sounds like an orgy to you."

"Touché. So why Carroll?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you bypassing the annual semi-illicit interhouse upper-termer Christmas party in favor of 'Jabberwocky'?"

"No particular reason. It's too loud down there. And I like the sounds of the words."

"God, Moony, you're such a poofter."

"Well, you would know."

"Does 'Jabberwocky' turn you on, Moony?"

"No, it doesn't, thank you."

"I'll bet it does. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves--"

"Oh, shut up. And give me my book back."

"--did gyre and gimble in the wabe! All mimsy--"

"Sirius, stop that!"

"--were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe!"

"I thought you were going back to the party?"

"Sod the party. Beware the Jabberwock, my son..."

And on, and on, until finally Remus silenced him with a well-placed kiss and drew the bed curtains closed around them.

*

Impossibly, inexplicably, Peter had, in fact, managed to cop off with the Hufflepuff girl with the big tits.

"D'you know what sex is like?" Peter sighed blissfully. "Well, I'll tell you. It's bloody brilliant, is what it is."

James glared balefully at him. "Be a mate, Pete, and shut up."

"'Cause, you know, girls, right? They're fantastic. All soft and pokey."

"Like you," James grumbled.

"And, like, breasts! Oh, man, they're really brilliant, aren't they? They fit in your hand and are all nice and wobbly just like--"

"Peter," James said, in a tone of impending doom, "if you compare Angie Sloane's breasts to pudding, jelly, or any other foodstuffs, I will be forced to smother you with your pillow in the night."

Peter stuck his tongue out at him. "You're just jealous 'cause I've had sex and you haven't."

James looked pleadingly across the room at Remus and Sirius. "Lads. Mates. Please. Make him shut up. I don't care how. Use an Unforgivable if you have to, I won't tell anyone."

"They haven't had sex, either," Peter sang out, imperturbably. "Just me! Imagine it, me, the first of the Marauders to have sex!"

"Actually," Remus said, flushing a bit.

"Well," Sirius added helpfully. "I mean, we, er, sort of...have."

Peter and James gaped at them. "You never," James said. "Not Sirius. Not without telling us. Remus, now, Remus I can see sneaking off with some girl in the library and keeping mum, but you, Pads? You couldn't possibly."

"Who with?" Peter demanded suspiciously, wary of losing his newfound fame as the First Marauder To Lose His Virginity.

Remus and Sirius exchanged a pointed look.

"Augh!" Peter squeaked.

"Oh, God," James groaned, pressing his face firmly into a cushion. "I could've gone to my grave without knowing that, and been happy."

"But how - when did you--"

"Peter, you will not, under any circumstances, encourage another word on the subject," James instructed, lifting his head. "Because if they explain the slightest detail about their physical relationship, I will be forced to Obliviate myself. And then kill you."

Peter looked at Remus and Sirius with wide eyes. "But where do you two...you know..."

"Best not to ask," Sirius said kindly.

James made a muffled noise of mingled terror and disgust. "My two poofter friends do not shag in our dormitory," he chanted to himself. "My two poofter friends do not--"

"And never while you're in there," Sirius added blithely, clearly enjoying himself.

James shot him a wounded look.

"James," Peter said in an awed voice, "this means that you're the only virgin Marauder."

"I hate you all," James said, and stuck his face back into the cushion.

"Well," Remus commented to Sirius, "all things considered, that went fairly well."

*

Dinner had been eaten. Jabberwocks had been slain. Molly had not murdered any of her offspring. Said offspring had not murdered each other. Hermione and Ron had not bickered (much). No Bat-Bogey Hexes were in evidence. Tonks had only broken one plate and a soufflé dish. All in all, Remus considered it a more than usually successful evening at the Burrow.

"Well," Fred said, after Molly had retired to the kitchen to do the washing up and Arthur had retired to his shed to tinker with some exciting Muggle invention (possibly a vacuum cleaner, Remus guessed from his mutterings). "We'd best be off, then."

George grinned. "Yeah. It's probably the children's bedtime."

Ginny levitated some pudding and sent it flying at him. George ducked, and the pudding splattered over Ron's head instead. Harry applauded appreciatively.

"If your mother was out here--" Hermione started.

"But she's not," Fred interrupted, stepping carefully around a now pudding-soaked Ron. "We'll pop 'round the kitchen to say good night. You know, George, we've got our own flat now."

"We do indeed, Fred."

"Where we live."

"By ourselves."

"No parents."

"No bedtimes."

"No pudding."

"I hate you all," Ron muttered, picking gobs of pudding out of his hair.

George patted him consolingly on the shoulder. "Someday, Ronnie. Someday, you too will join the ranks of the self-sufficient and pudding-free."

"Oi, Tonks," Fred said casually, "want to come by ours for a bit?"

"He fancies her," Ginny informed the group in a stage whisper.

Fred cuffed the back of Ginny's head. "Don't. Just feel the need for a bit more adult conversation, you know. Without you lot."

Tonks glanced across the table at Remus. "You'll come along too, right? See their new flat, and all."

"Er," Remus said, vainly wishing he had followed back inside to help with the washing-up. He felt old and out of place among the younger generation. For goodness' sakes, he had been the twins' teacher. Was there some magical line crossed after seventh year, that students could now have their former professors 'round for a drink? They were all just so young.

"Course he will," Fred said blithely. "Come on, Lupin."

Growing up, Remus decided, was just plain weird.

*

"Sirius," Remus said, not quite panicking, "there's nothing left to study for."

Sirius paused in his packing. Well, perhaps 'packing' was too strong a word. 'Throwing things about and hoping that most of your worldly possessions eventually end up in your trunk, and that Peter's manky socks do not' would have been more accurate. "Haven't you had enough studying by now? I mean, even I opened a book or two to prepare for N.E.W.T.s. You lived in the library for nearly a month. I remember that. No sex for nearly a month, Moony. Why could you possibly want to study for anything else?"

Remus fiddled with his tie. "I know. I mean. You know. There's no more studying. Ever." He yanked the tie off and waved it about. "No more school ties! Sirius, this is the last day in our lives we will ever have to wear these ties."

"Pity," Sirius said. "The red and gold bring out your eyes."

Remus contemplated strangling Sirius with the tie.

"I'd survive," Sirius said with a grin. "I know you were trying to work out the logistics, but really, these flimsy ties would never hold up against my massively muscular neck. It would snap in two, and then you would have only fragments of a school tie for your trunk of Hogwarts keepsakes, and you would be sad. I just thought I should remind you of that, before you tried it."

"You never know," Remus said darkly. "I might just manage it."

"And anyway, I'll still have loads of studying to do," Sirius added. It took Remus's brain a few seconds to leap back to that thread of the conversation. "Bloody Aurors and their bloody exams."

"Yes, well, at least you can become an Auror. Some of us aren't allowed to apply for Ministry positions, you know."

"Well, werewolves, you know, can't be trusted. They might try to strangle you with a school tie. Rather ill-tempered brutes, really - ow, get off!"

"You were saying?"

"I take it all back! Lovely creatures, werewolves! Make such pleasant pets!"

Remus casually removed his knee from the general area of Sirius's groin. "That's more like it."

Sirius flopped across his bed, the better to recover from his brief Ordeal of Threatened Manhood. "Seriously, though, Remus. What's got your knickers in a twist? It's just graduation. Had to happen sooner or later."

Remus sighed, leaning against a bedpost. "It's just...no more studying."

"Won't miss it."

"No more late-night kitchen raids."

"I am perfectly capable of raiding my own kitchen. Or James's parents' kitchen. Whichever has more treacle."

"No more professors hauling us into detention."

"Remus, when was the last time any of the professors actually caught you? You haven't been in detention since third or fourth year!"

"I lived vicariously through you and James. You had enough detentions for all four of us."

"Anyway, can't say I'll miss spending hours cleaning out Sprout's greenhouse. I think I've still got something growing under my fingernails from the last time."

"Sirius," Remus said, leaning forward so that his face was level with Sirius's, "no more pranks."

This was followed by a profound silence. Sirius's brow furrowed. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He made a low, whimpering sound in the back of his throat.

"Yes," Remus said. "Exactly."

"Why not?" Sirius demanded, once he had regained control over his voice.

"We're graduating. Moving on. Growing up."

"Growing up is not mandatory!"

"Who are you going to prank?" Remus asked reasonably. "I don't think the Auror Academy is as accepting or encouraging of pranksters as Hogwarts. Old Moody will probably rip your spleen out and eat it raw if you or James pull any of our usual tricks. Pranking is just...not done after graduation."

"You're right," Sirius said finally. He reached out and yanked Remus onto the bed with him. "Best do one last illicit thing before we go, then."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "What, this?" he asked, his breath just barely tickling Sirius's lips. "This is nothing new. We've shagged here plenty of times."

"We'll just have to be especially creative, then," Sirius told him, and began carefully removing the school uniforms they would never have to wear again.

*

"Hey," James said, as they settled into a compartment for their last journey on the Hogwarts Express. "Who's got the Map? I meant to pack it up, but I couldn't remember who had it last."

"Ah, the Map," Sirius sighed, leaning back against the plush cushions. "It grieves me to tell you, Prongs, but I'm afraid the Map has been confiscated."

James froze, his eyes widening. Regrettably, he looked rather like a deer in headlights. "Confiscated?"

"Tragically, yes," Remus told him, barely able to suppress a grin. "Filch happened upon us on our way down from Gryffindor Tower, and I'm sorry to say that the Map - not that he recognized it as such - insulted him quite viciously. The good caretaker was left with no other option but to confiscate it."

Peter took it like a man. He downed a handful of chocolate frogs in one go. "So. No more Map."

"No more Map," Remus agreed.

James face was getting rather pink about the edges. "You...you lost the Map? To Filch? On our last fucking day at Hogwarts?"

"It was time," Remus told him kindly.

"We had to let it go," Sirius said solemnly. "We're not the Marauders anymore, James. We no longer rule Hogwarts. Its hallowed halls are no longer ours for the pranking. The torch must be passed on to the next generation of troublemakers."

"The Map will be perfectly safe in Filch's office," Remus added. "He'll never figure it out. And there it will remain until it is needed again."

In spite of himself, Peter looked intrigued. "What d'you mean?"

"Any really dedicated pranksters will doubtless find themselves in Filch's office a great deal," Sirius explained. "The true heirs to the Marauders will know to make good use of their time there. Sooner or later, when the time is right, the Map will be found again."

"What good will that do them?" James complained, clearly more put out about being left out of the decision to 'lose' the Map than anything else. "They won't figure it out any more than Filch will."

"Ah," Sirius said with a mysterious smile. "Most interesting, that."

"Sirius and I worked a new layer of spells into the Map before we gave it up," Remus said. "It's a bit complicated, and I'm not sure I remember all the details - we had to throw it all together rather hastily, you understand, what with graduating today and all - but suffice it to say, the Map will know the right person or persons to reveal itself to."

"How?" Peter demanded.

Remus and Sirius exchanged a grin. "Trust us," Sirius said. "It'll just know."

*

"Here we are," George said cheerfully, stepping out of the fireplace and dusting a bit of floo powder off his sleeve.

Fred looked about with a beatific smile. "Isn't it fantastic?"

Well, no, it wasn't particularly fantastic, Remus thought. It was a flat much like any other flat that a couple of eighteen-year-olds might rent out. It was a bit small, and dingy, and there were cracks in the plaster of the walls. But it was a flat, and it was theirs, and that made all the difference.

"Magnificent," Tonks said enthusiastically. She flopped down across a saggy orange couch and ignored the dust that rose violently at her intrusion. "Absolutely brilliant, lads."

Fred beamed.

George glanced from his twin to Tonks and back again, and shook his head slightly. "I'll go get the firewhisky."

"There's a bottle of wine in there somewhere, too," Fred added, perching on something that might once have been a bar stool, or possibly a very large lawn ornament.

"How posh," Tonks laughed.

An hour and two bottles of firewhisky plus three-quarters of a bottle of wine later, the twins were waxing a bit rhapsodic about their burgeoning business and their great exploits of years past. Remus, not entirely sober himself, leaned back into the couch and listened with his eyes half-closed. The alcohol made his fingers tingle and his mind pleasantly hazy; time flowed past him in a jumble of words and dust and echoes.

"There was one exceptionally lovely evening in the May of our first year--" Fred started.

"You mean the Slytherin incident?"

"Yes, George, the Slytherin incident. A thing of somewhat foul beauty. We pranked the entire Slytherin House table--"

("All of them?" James asked, the gears in his mind whirring almost audibly.

"All of them," Sirius affirmed. "Even Slughorn. All we have to do is add a sort of blanketing charm to--")

"--to fart 'God Save the Queen.'"

"In harmony," George added.

"Dumbledore applauded."

("I don't like Dumbledore," Peter complained. "I don't think he knows I exist."

"Well, how would he?" James asked reasonably. "You hide whenever you see him coming."

"A questionable method, but oddly effective," Sirius mused. "Peter spends even less time in detention than Remus.")

"Didn't even get caught," George noted, with some pride.

Tonks shifted over a bit on the couch. "You know, I think I remember that. The Hall smelled like rotten cheese for days afterwards." She leaned against Remus's side. He started involuntarily at the sudden pressure.

(Sirius draped himself comfortably across Remus, laughing as James tried desperately to repair the damage to his new dress robes, the distinct odor of dungbombs permeating their dormitory. "I've got to hand it to you, Wormtail. You may not be very handy with most charms and jinxes, but the things you can do with simple Zonko's products..."

"Thanks," Peter beamed. "I think Lily will appreciate it, too."

"Your days are numbered, rat," James spluttered. "I swear, I'll--")

"I'll never forget the look on Filch's face," George sighed happily. "He suspected, of course, but he never managed to prove it was us."

"Got his revenge on us a week later, though, didn't he?"

"On a completely cocked-up charge, I might add."

"But it turned out to be the most brilliant thing the man has ever done, though he would learn to regret it."

"You see," George explained, leaning forward a bit, his eyes glowing from a dangerous combination of pride and firewhisky, "it was in Filch's office that very day where we found the Map."

("Does it work?" Sirius demanded breathlessly. "Let's have a go, Prongs!"

"I can't look," Peter moaned. "I can't. What if I bollocksed up the Runes? Oh, god, what if I confused kenaz with--"

"Only one way to find out," James said. He took a deep breath, and touched the tip of his wand to the parchment. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good!"

The Map worked.)

"Without the Marauder's Map, we'd never have become anything more than two-bit pranksters," Fred sighed. "We owe it so much."

"Funny thing, though," George said thoughtfully. "I'm still not entirely sure how we figured it out. The Map, I mean - it's spelled to just look like a bit of parchment, you have to know the right words to make it reveal itself. At the time, we just thought we were bloody brilliant, but looking back, it's a bit queer. Better wizards than us haven't managed to crack it."

Fred tilted his head to one side, considering the matter. "I never gave it much thought," he said. "But you're right. I wonder why it opened up to us so easily the first time?"

"Oh, that," Remus said sleepily. "It was Padfoot's idea, but I developed the spell for it. Wasn't all that difficult, really - the Map was already a good judge of character. Just needed to tweak the personality part of the framework of charms a bit."

There was a bit of an unnerving silence. Remus lifted his head a bit and opened his eyes.

Fred and George were gaping at him, mouths hanging slightly open. Even Tonks had pulled away, watching him curiously.

After several long seconds, Fred cleared his throat. "You mean...?"

"Lupin," George said cautiously. "How do you know about the Map?"

"Er," Remus said. "Harry never told you? Ah. Well. I was Moony."

*

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

"Pads, I promise to you that I will give up reading poetry forever if you will just stop that and focus on the business at hand--"

"At hand? I like that."

"Sirius. The Map."

"What? You seem to be doing a fine job of it on your own."

"This was supposed to be a joint effort, you prat. And it was your idea in the first place. Immortality of pranksterhood and all that rot."

"It deeply saddens me that you're not taking our immortality insurance seriously."

"Yes, well, it's difficult to focus on this incredibly complex spell I've made up when you're prancing around and reciting poetry like a regular shirtlifter."

"Oh, Moony. You know what they say. Pot, kettle--"

"Black. Yes, thank you."

"And the spell isn't all that difficult, anyway. Otherwise I wouldn't be allowing you to work on it unsupervised - oi!"

"Yes? Oh, I'm sorry, I was under the impression that you were being an enormous git and wouldn't mind if I popped back to finish packing, so--"

"Oh, no you don't. Come to my arms, my beamish boy!"

"I swear to god, if you don't stop with that poem, I'm going to--"

"Just shut up and get back here."

"Give me one good reason to - oh. Okay. That's a good reason."

"Thought so. C'mon, let's put the final layer of charms on the Map and get back to the interesting stuff."

"I wonder who'll eventually find it. Or be found by it, rather."

"It doesn't matter, does it? I mean, the important thing is, we'll live on. The Marauders. Whoever finds it, they'll remember us, and that's what immortality is, right? Being remembered? And then they'll pass it on to the next round of pranksters, and the next, and we'll always be there, speaking through it. Just imagine, Remus."

"I know."

"Oh, and you know what else?"

"Hmmm?"

"He chortled in his joy! 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves--"

"Damn it, Sirius--!"

*

Mssrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present the Marauder's Map.

Mr. Prongs would like to know what took you so bloody long, as he has become thoroughly sick of the inside of that file cabinet.

Mr. Padfoot would like to have it known that Mr. Prongs is an impatient git, and that any further comments from him should be ignored.

Mr. Prongs thinks that Mr. Padfoot can go--

Mr. Moony would like to know to whom he is speaking.

"Er, Fred and George Weasley."

Mr. Moony is most pleased to meet Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley, and congratulates them on the discovery of this most valuable magical artifact.

Mr. Wormtail would like to register that he has no idea what's going on, but is properly chuffed all the same.

Mr. Padfoot would like to apologize for Mr. Wormtail, who is a bit thick but generally a well-meaning sort of chap.

Mr. Wormtail would like it known that he is flipping Mr. Padfoot the bird.

Same to you, Wormtail.

Mr. Prongs thinks that Mssrs. Weasley probably have better things to do than listen to such childish bickering.

Mr. Padfoot would like to wish Mssrs. Weasley a most productive and prank-filled future, and hopes they learn to make the most out of the indispensable parchment they now hold in their hands.

If you ever need us, (in Mr. Moony's spidery scrawl,) we'll be here.

*

Hours later, Remus somehow managed to Apparate back to his own flat, full of stories and memories and copious amounts of the twins' alcohol. He stumbled into his tiny kitchen, still chortling quietly to himself, and with a drunken dexterity he didn't know he possessed, raised one last glass of firewhisky in memory of Moony and Peter's dignity and the Map and immortality and the Sirius Black he had once loved.