Getting a Reaction

Getting A Reaction

or How Remus Lupin Became A Marauder

By Jade and Adi

Beta'd by Kathryn

"Its not so much a prank as a favour, James," Sirius explained persuasively, trying to convince his friend. James had just received a week's worth of detentions for what was already being called "the ink incident," and he had a policy of always completing his detentions before putting his next "project" into action, not so much because of the moral aspect as because detention was his strategizing time for the next adventure. James, on whom Sirius had been working on for at least a couple hours now, began to waver.

"I don't know..."

Sirius saw his chance and jumped at it. "It doesn't have to be anything big. Just something to bring him out of his shell. Honestly, James, anyone would think that you were scared!"

James's eleven-year-old pride smarted. "I thought you said it wasn't a prank," he responded contritely, but Sirius' last sentence had demolished what little resistance he had left. So, when Sirius waved his hand dismissively at James' comment, the messy-haired Gryffindor only had to pretend to consider the matter for about a second before saying (with a bit more eagerness than he would have liked), "Okay, then. It is for a good cause, after all."

* * *

The subject was Remus Lupin. The goal was to prank him with the explicit purpose of making people notice him. Sirius and James had started a conversation earlier that day about how shy their roommate was. That particular conversation ended with them slipping out of bed as soon as Peter Pettigrew (the last to go to bed that night) began snoring. In silent agreement, James tiptoed over to Lupin's trunk and quietly opened it, while Sirius glided over to his four-poster and parted the hangings.

* * *

The two conspirators were up early the next morning, in anticipation of Lupin's reaction. After what seemed an eternity, their subject finally slid out of bed, and opened his trunk.

James and Sirius exchanged smiles of anticipation.

And Lupin did nothing. He slipped his scarlet robes over his scarlet boxers, put on his scarlet socks, and tied his scarlet shoes, as though they had never been any other colour. He even combed his bright red hair without so much as blinking. He nodded good morning to James, who had frozen in surprise, one sock on his foot and the other clutched in his hand, and to Sirius, who had stopped buttoning his shirt half way. Then he walked out of the dormitory to breakfast, adjusting his scarlet collar, his retreating back giving Sirius and James a perfect view of the neatly written sign on it, which had been spelled to appear only after Lupin had put on his clothes.

* * *

"Hey Lupin!" Phil Weasley grabbed Remus's shoulder in the hallway, turning him around to face him, "You look like a Weasley! Anything you're not telling us?"

"I've recently been adopted by your family," Remus answered the redhead mildly. "Didn't you know? Apparently, if you spend more than five minutes with the last name, you begin to get the hair. I'm expecting freckles any day now." From anyone else, this would have been an insult. However, from Remus, who was actually quite fond of the Weasleys, it was more of a friendly jibe. Phil seemed to take it in the nature it was meant, and grinned at the younger boy.

"Well, welcome to the family! Glad to have you aboard!" He slapped Remus on the back, and walked away, grinning.

Remus proceeded to walk to Potions as fast as possible, short of running. He dearly hoped he would reach the classroom before someone else told him he looked like a Weasley, or worse yet, hugged him. He assumed the hugs he had been receiving all day had something to do with the sign on his back. However, the sign refused to come off no matter how many spells he tried, so he could only guess. He was surprised he hadn't noticed the sign in the dormitory. There were more important things to worry about than a seemingly irreversible color change and a sign that wouldn't come off, however. Like Potions, and the inevitable meeting with Professor Crowley, who hated him. Remus had never been very good at Potions, not because he was unable to make them, but because he was always strongly distracted by the many vile smells wafting around the classroom. Like all werewolves, his senses were much more acute than normal people's, which meant that he was bothered when doing something most people would take for granted, like taking out an especially smelly bag of garbage, or having a noisemaker go off near his ear.

He had nearly reached the dungeons, when...

"Lupin! You look like a Weasley!"

No, he thought, it's too much to hope that people can be original in their insults. Ignoring the commentator, he prepared himself for a long day.

* * *

Having just barely survived Potions, Remus settled into a seat at the back of the History of Magic classroom, opening a well-deserved book titled Merlin: The True Story. The title didn't sound at all promising, but he'd read all of the other books he'd gotten for Christmas several times and felt he should at least give it a chance. Unfortunately, the book's chance was to be short lived. He hadn't been reading for two minutes, when he looked up to see Sirius Black and James Potter sauntering towards him. He sighed, carefully marked the page, and closed the book, resigning himself to being called a Weasley again. He looked at them with an expression he hoped was a polite "How may I help you?" with faint undertones of "Please go away, I would rather not be bothered."

* * *

"Y'know, we're s'posed to wear black robes Lupin," Sirius observed smugly, hoping that by targeting Lupin's careworn but usually meticulous appearance, he would get a reaction. He didn't particularly care what kind of reaction, as long as there was one. He'd settle for a look of complete astonishment, or even a bemused expression. Anything, really...

"Yes," Lupin agreed in a mild and courteous manner that was completely nonplussed, much to Sirius' aggravation and, consequently, James' amusement. "But it matches my hair so well." He paused to look Sirius up and down. "I see you've colour-coordinated your hair and clothes." He analytically glanced over James. "You too."

There was a pause, during which James' and Sirius' respect for Lupin rose considerably, along with Sirius' determination to get a reaction.

"You have a sign on your back," Sirius said abruptly, breaking the silence. He knew it sounded lame even before it was out of his mouth, but he needed that reaction.

"Ah. Would that have anything to do with why girls have been hugging me all day, do you think?"

"Girls?" asked Sirius, slightly jealous.

"Yes, well, would you hug me?"

Sirius considered it for a moment. It was a matter of pride. He would get his reaction, no matter what. He squared his shoulders, compressed his lips, and, with a set face, bent down and hugged Lupin as though he was a sharp bit of metal that a dragon had just regurgitated.

James, who was red in the face with suppressed laughter, let out a strange noise. It was something between a snort, a gasp for air, and a strangled chortle. But Sirius didn't care, because he knew Lupin would have to do something now. Checkmate, he thought.

Lupin did do something. He raised an eyebrow. "Now I'm simply terrified," he said in the infallibly polite tones of simply scorching sarcasm. Then he turned back to his book, an obvious sign that, in his opinion, the conversation was over.

James couldn't help it. One look at Sirius' face and he burst into laughter, and both couldn't and wouldn't stop. Sirius marched back across the classroom with as much dignity as he could muster. He tried to be furious with Lupin and, against all odds, failed miserably. James, who slid into his seat next to Sirius just as Professor Binns emerged from the floor, leaned over to Sirius and whispered, "He's good."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed.

"I like him," James declared after a moment's consideration.

"Me too."

"Then there's only one thing for it."

Sirius nodded. They both pulled out their wands and pointed them at Lupin. "Coloro Nativitas!" Sirius whispered at the same time that James murmured, "Abduco Scriptura!"

* * *

And suddenly, Remus's clothes and hair were their proper colours, and the sign on his back was gone. Remus, who felt the tingle of magic being cast on him as only a werewolf can, looked down at his clothes and stared, a look of absolute astonishment spreading across his face. Sirius congratulated himself on finally getting the reaction he'd worked the entire day to see.

* * *

Remus walked into the student storage cupboard with great reluctance, various smells affronting his sensitive nose and making his eyes water. Just some eye of newt was all he needed. Holding his breath, he quickly grabbed it and groped his way towards the door, blinded by tears and dizzy from all the smells.

He fumbled for the doorknob, flung the door open, and instead of the relief he expected, nearly collapsed from the stench of dungbombs.

"I say, Lupin!" exclaimed a vaguely familiar voice, "You okay?"

"Smell!" Remus managed to gasp.

"Tollo Odoratus!"

Remus's skin tingled, and suddenly, his eyes stopped watering, his head stopped spinning, and the stink of dungbombs was reduced to what he assumed a normal person would smell.

He looked up to see James Potter putting his wand away, and beyond him, Sirius Black building a pyramid of dungbombs on the teacher's desk, and trying to block it from his view at the same time. As his head cleared, he realized that he had opened the door to the Potions classroom, instead of the one opening into the hall.

"Sorry," Remus stammered, "I have, er, severe allergic reactions to, err, the smell of dungbombs."

"Ah." Potter said.

I should just walk away, Remus thought in the awkward silence that followed. These two are sure trouble. But he realized that, for the first time in recent memory, he felt impulsive. He simultaneously realized that he, well, he had actually begun to like Potter and Black. He supposed that happened when they didn't call him a Weasley. He only had to briefly remember how horrible Crowley had been that day about his robes and hair, and his mind was firmly made up. So, for once in his life, instead of doing the sensible thing...

"Can I help you?"

The other two exchanged looks of undisguised surprise.

Then Potter shrugged. "Sure."

Black handed him a dungbomb and hefted one of his own. "Let's see who can throw it harder at that wall."

"You know, it works better if you set it off in the middle of the room," Remus explained, like he did this every day. You couldn't be a werewolf and not know almost everything about smells. He demonstrated.

Potter and Black exchanged another look. This one clearly said that if a herd of stampeding kelpies with wings fell through the roof and proceeded to alphabetically organize the potions ingredients, followed by the house elves waving signs with slogans like "No pay, No porridge," neither would be surprised.

* * *

The three exited the room about an hour later with the extreme satisfaction of a job well done. They were walking down the hallway, chatting amiably.

"So, that charm you used to stop my, er, allergies--what was it?"

"It's called the Odoratus Charm. It basically prevents you from smelling anything. Sirius and I use it when we... make potions that smell extraordinarily like dungbombs. Which reminds me, I'd better remove it."

"Finite Incantatum!"

Remus pretended to have a mild allergic reaction, even though the smell was bearable. It wouldn't do for James or Sirius to notice that he was not, in fact, actually allergic to the smell of dungbombs.

"So, Lupin," Sirius began, after what he considered a suitable amount of time for someone to recover from an allergic reaction.

"Remus," Remus corrected, sniffing slightly for effect.

"So... Remus, where did you learn so much about the fine art of dungbombs?"

The question caught him off guard. What was he supposed to say--that he had an extra-sensitive nose because he was a werewolf? "Well, I..."

"Damn!" James interrupted with unconscious timeliness, pointing to the quickly retreating figure of Mrs. Norris.

"Yes, damn just about covers it," agreed Sirius.

They soon heard Filch around the corner. "Where are they, my sweet?"

Remus, knowing he didn't have much time, preformed a spell of his own.

"Myrapia!" he muttered hurriedly, casting the Myrapius Charm on first James, then Sirius, and lastly, himself. The charm turned any revolting smell into a pleasant scent. He had learned it at the age of four, and used it out of sheer necessity. That, and earplugs.

Filch came barreling around the corner, the smell of bacon grease wafting around him indicating that he had been interrupted from a meal. "What're you lot up to?" Filch growled nastily, wheezing slightly between each word. He looked like he had run up six floors.

"Walking," Remus answered, "Down the hall. I hear they allow you to do that here. But if that was just a rumor, I offer my sincerest apologies." His tone, as always, was irreproachably polite. It infuriated Filch to no end.

"I know you were doing something." He sniffed. "Small boys never smell this good."

When Remus didn't say anything, Filch's face began to assume the unbearable expression of arrogant triumph. Just then, Sirius stepped in.

"You mean you go around smelling small boys?" he asked, a look of absolute horror on his face.

James and Remus, catching on, mirrored the expression. And before Filch could say anything, Sirius walked off, shaking his head, Remus following him. James paused and handed Filch a business card.

"My Aunt's the best Medi-witch psychologist at St. Mungo's. She specializes in strange fetishes and obsessions. Just remember that there's no shame in asking for help." He patted the now speechless Filch on the shoulder and followed his friends, his tread faintly suggestive of one who has just found out that a loved one has a serious illness.

As soon as they were safely out of earshot, they all burst out laughing.

"Did you see his face?" gasped Remus.

"I think it actually changed colour when I asked him about smelling boys," Sirius chortled.

"It did," James panted, trying to catch his breath. "Several times." He proceeded to do an uncanny imitation of the livid Filch.

Which, of course, made them all laugh again.

When they finally stopped, they looked at each other. Remus suddenly realized that he'd thrown dungbombs in school, cheeked an adult, and spent the time he needed to study laughing harder than he ever had in his life with people he had barely said two words to before that day.

"Well, I'd better go study for that Transfiguration test tomorrow," he said, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Yeah, ok," Sirius said, rubbing the back of his neck, obviously feeling slightly awkward as well.

"See you, then." James said, sounding a bit more formal than he meant to.

"Yeah. Bye." Remus walked off towards the common room.

* * *

Sirius and James stepped through the portrait hole a couple hours later. James started for their usual table when Sirius elbowed him and nodded towards Remus. He was sitting alone at a table, unnoticed by everyone and surrounded by haphazard stacks of books and scattered pieces of parchment, writing what looked like The World's Longest Potions Essay.

James nodded once to Sirius, and the two strode across the common room, ignoring calls from all quarters for a game of chess or a study session, and slipped into seats at Remus' table. James pulled out his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework, while Sirius opened his Transfiguration book, more for something to keep him occupied than for any need to revise.

Remus leaned over and casually glanced at the essay James was writing. "Sentence three is incorrect. Kappas were originally from Japan."

And the rest, as they say, is history.