Legacy of the Marauders

Dumbledore: A Past Marauder

Remus ran as swiftly as he was able to the headmaster's office, ascended the revolving spiral staircase, and arduously pounded on the oak door.

He heard a poorly suppressed chuckle followed by, "Remus Lupin, I doubt anyone has ever seen you so eager. Do come in."

As he stepped into the circular office he calmly replied, "You didn't see me when I led Sapphire to my bed over the Christmas holiday."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

Realising what it must have sounded like to Dumbledore, he quickly amended, "We recited poetry."

"Of course you did." His eyes held their characteristic twinkle.

"It's true!" Remus truthfully insisted.

He laughed. "I really do believe you know how to treat a lady, especially one as fair as dear Minerva's niece, with respect. Speaking of ladies, would you like not to be one any longer?"

"Yes, please, sir."

Smiling, Dumbledore handed him a brass goblet that had been sitting atop his cluttered desk.

Remus gratefully swallowed the antidote it contained in one gulp. It was the absolute worst liquid he'd ever had the misfortune to taste. It was like lemon juice mixed liberally with a large quantity of raw eggs. Remus felt his breasts shrink until they disappeared altogether and his hips grew smaller. Something inside Remus' trousers elongated. The hair that had swished all the way down his back shortened to brush against his shoulders. "Thank you," he said, and was relieved to hear that his light male voice had returned. "I thought I had to be sleeping for the potion to work."

"That was without the plant," informed Dumbledore simply, waving his wand so Remus was wearing the masculine school uniform as opposed to the feminine. "Now, did you learn anything?"

"Many things. I made a list."

"Excellent. Be certain to show it to your friends. You'd best return to them now. They must miss you. It isn't much fun to cause trouble without there being someone to tell you that you shouldn't."

"Good night, sir." The werewolf smiled at his words and headed towards the door.

"Have wet dreams."

Slowly, Remus turned around and murmured in shock, "What did you say, Professor?"

"Have sweet dreams."

"That wasn't what it sounded like..."

"Then, you must have misheard," simpered the headmaster.

"Um, right. Sleep well."

"Have wet dreams."

Remus fearfully shut the door and ran out into the corridor, crashing into a well-muscled chest and falling unceremoniously onto the stone floor.

"Moony!" Sirius mirthfully hoisted Remus up. "It feels great to have your cock back, doesn't it?"

"I guess. All I know for sure is that Dumbledore had to have been a Marauder in his past."

"Well, everyone knows that," remarked James, shrugging.

Peter nodded in agreement.

"Anyway, what are you lot doing here?" Remus queried curiously.

"Coming to get you," answered Sirius blithely. "We heard from James that Dumbledore wanted to see 'Joanna,' so we figured it must have been to give you the potion."

"He did, and after that he told me to share what I learned with you." The lycanthrope retrieved a folded piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to Sirius.

Sirius unfolded the parchment, unnecessarily cleared his throat for dramatic effect, and read aloud, "'On Monday I learned Dumbledore knew my bra size.
On Tuesday I learned Bras are extremely uncomfortable.
On Wednesday I learned I'm a bitch.
On Thursday I learned when it comes to sex boys are crude and girls are graphic.
On Friday I learned I'm a bitch.
On Saturday I learned Men think they are superior to women. They're not.
On Sunday I learned 'Yep' means 'sex.' No wonder guys don't want to hear 'no.'

In seriousness, through careful observation I did learn that girls bond over gossip and makeovers and boys bond over bawdy jokes and alcohol. I guess since my condition made making friends hard for me I am one of the few that know friendships should be formed over time and trust.

Love is created over time too, yet often within a few weeks of dating a woman will irrationally dream of a wedding. Men know this, so they say that they love them to get the women to sleep with them. In general, girls are lovesick fools and boys are perverted gits. Please, pardon my French.

Females hold grudges and verbally abuse one another while males violently beat the crap out of each other and forget about it.

If a woman cries other women comfort her. If a man cries other men laugh at him, but women adore him. If a girl has sex she is unfairly labeled as a whore. If a bloke has sex he is unfairly labeled as 'cool.'

All in all, I think both genders are wonderful and both genders suck (Pardon my French again.), so just deal with whichever one you are and respect the other one because the grass isn't greener on the other side. Trust me, I know. Keep in mind I may have been harsh when writing this since I'm bleeding out of my crotch...I NEVER imagined I'd say those words!'"

"Wow, Moony, that's pretty deep stuff," gasped Peter.

Remus shook his head modestly.

"It is," James concurred, "but just forget about it for now. All that matters is that everything is back to normal."

('Normal?' thought the readers. 'Not with this loony author!')

Suddenly, two attractive blokes that were the Marauders' age materialised out of thin air. One of them had a head of thick, brown hair and wide, pale eyes that scarcely blinked and gleamed oddly when the light hit them. The other had long, wavy, auburn hair, a red goatee, and twinkling blue eyes. Both wore mischievous smiles and had long, thin fingers.

"Did it work?" asked the brunette, glancing around animatedly.

"I don't know," the redhead responded thoughtfully.

"What do you mean you don't know? Honestly, for a genius you're a real dolt."

"I warned you that the Unspeakables hadn't perfected time-turners yet, and to borrow one and experiment with it would either be dangerous or a waste of time," he serenely replied.

"Why don't I remember that?"

With a grin the blue-eyed boy volunteered, "You'd had two glasses of firewhiskey when I mentioned it."

"That explains it."

"Excuse me," interjected Remus politely before questioning the redhead, "Are you who I think you are?"

"That depends on who you think I am," was the amiable reply. "My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."