Prelude to a Love Story

Chapter Five: Dreams and a Dark Mark

Peter Pettigrew lay awake upon the bleached white of the sheets. Only a few beds over, he knew, lay Lily Evans. Large divisions surrounded her bed, while a powerful deep-sleep potion kept her from waking. It was only the knowledge of her bindings that stopped Peter from continually twitching nervously. It was the thought of what Lily would do with her rage once she awoke that frightened him. Peter didn't want to be anywhere within the vicinity when those green eyes of hers burst open. Not at all.

Peter smiled at his thought: "Not at all", for they had been the exact words of their nurse, Madam Marmalade, earlier that day. After his 'accident' with the giant albatross in transfiguration, Peter had been rushed up to the hospital wing. At the site of his gory appearance, Madam Pomfrey, the training nurse, had gasped in shock and run yelling for Madam Marmalade. Madam Marmalade had the confidence that comes with experience, and her experience had certainly been vast. Peter supposed that somewhere in the woman's long career she'd come across an albatross mauled student, for she went about healing him with such precision and ease that he was certain she must have done it numerous times.

Looking down to his thoroughly bandaged body, Peter was washed with a sudden craving to itch himself all over. The bandages had a hot and scratchy feel that he couldn't get rid of, but he knew that itching wasn't the cure. He smiled again as that brought him back to reminiscing on his earlier visit from the Marauders. Madam Marmalade's comment to his whine on "whether he could scratch himself free of the stupid bandages" had been an obvious one, "Not at all."

***//\//\***

"But pleeeeease Madam Marmalade!" whined Sirius, "We promise too be good." Remus and Sky nodded their heads, smiling, attempting to look innocent. Madam Marmalade took one glance at their faces and snorted in disgust. Her gaze disbelieving, she turned back to Sirius.

"And what, might I ask, is your interpretation of 'good'?" asked Madam Marmalde, "For it certainly doesn't include silence, or manners. Or keeping yourself in the one place, or your hands to yourself," she got more and more worked up as she spoke, her face turning red through lack of breath. "Obviously, to you, 'good' is only the outcome of a successful prank!" Sirius and Remus attempted to look aghast and insulted, but their mouths were twisted in an attempt not to smile.

Seeing their screwed up faces, Sky couldn't help but start laughing. She had infectious laughter, Remus noted, that gurgled up through her belly. He couldn't help but start laughing, and Sirius soon followed suit. Peter, who was lying groggily on the bed, began to laugh too. Disturbed from a peaceful slumber, Sky's pet hummingbird, Fao, jumped from his perch on her shoulder and began careering around the room.

Bewildered, Madam Marmalade looked at the children in front of her. Hadn't she just been yelling at them? She questioned herself, running through her mind all her actions and spoken words... Nothing in there had, to her, any particular content that would encourage such laughter.

Seeing the odd, confused look on the Madam's face only spurred the boys and girl on more. They couldn't help but laugh. Some instinct, however, must have informed Madam Marmalade that the group were now quite obviously laughing at her. Putting on her most disapproving glare, she waited for the laughter to subside.

Half and hour later, Madam Marmalade's face was getting sore from holding it in a pose of anger. The muscles were strained and, wearily, she slowly relaxed them. Rubbing at her face with her hands, she wondered how much longer their laughter could go on.

Sky couldn't help herself. Everytime she looked at one of the boys, she would laugh. They were pulling such funny faces! And then she glanced at the teacher, and noticed as the muscles, under too much strain, began to quiver. The twitchy face made her keep laughing, and her laughter being as it was - infectious - the boys began laughing too. Then they would stop to catch their breath, but with Peter being only semi-concious, he'd keep laughing, making a funny hooting noise. So Sky would start up again... And then Fao would fly into people, twittering in his own form of laughter...

Professor McGonagall seemed to always walk into scenes of a chaotic nature, and this one was no different. Sirius, Peter, Remus and Sky were all their, leaning on another's shoulder and laughing so hard that tears streamed down their faces. To add to the confusion, a little winged creature - Minerva was abruptly reminded of the snitch - was flapping around, running into things. Madam Marmalade, who should have been controlling this mess was sitting in a chair by the wall, apparently immersed in watching the clock.

Glancing lazily over to Professor McGonagall, Madam Marmalade called out: "Over an hour! That lot have been sitting there, laughing, for OVER AN HOUR!" Her pointing thumb indicated the group laughing, who had slid down onto the floor, too weak to stand. Despite the entrance of the strictest teacher in the school, their laughter didn't cease. Sky, who had run out of voice, was now laughing silently, while the boys' rumbling laughter was beginning to sound distinctly croaky.

"SILENCE!" shouted Professor McGonagall as loudly as she dared. It was loud enough, however, for at last the laughing mass quieted. "Thankyou," said the professor, not as loudly as before. The stern look in her eye was enough to make Sky cough back the laugh that she had almost emitted. Trying to stop the laughter, however, caused her to hiccup. She hiccupped about ten more times until the Professor shifted her withering gaze to Madam Marmalade, who performed the simple remedy spell.

The silence after the utterance of that spell was complete, forcing all but Professor McGonagall, who included all in her glare, to desire to shift their feet nervously. That would have made sound, however, and this noiseless atmosphere was unbreakable. That was, until it broke.

The single drip of crimson blood, splattering to the floor, shattered the silence. First, however, the sound seemed to echo throughout the room, bouncing off one silent wall to the other. Then, as the sound sunk in, realisation dawned.

"Professor! Your hand!" gasped Sky, pointing. Her eyes were wide as she saw the long cut running down from her forearm. The distance that the blood had travelled down her arm was considerable, with it stopping languidly in the cup of her hand to pool. Shoved out of the daze that silence had inflicted on her, Madam Marmalade's medical instincts were suddenly pushed into gear.

"Minerva!" exclaimed Madam Marmalade, as she rushed over, conjuring bandages and blood-stop to her side. "However did this happen?" Frowning at the nasty gash, Madam Marmalade conjured up some thread and a needle, also, and, after numbing the arm with a few well chosen words, began to stitch it up.

Rather than look at her arm, which was currently being sown up together, Minerva glared childishly at the boys; Sky was not included. "How did this happen, you ask?" she said, her glare deepening. "Why, I'm certain that one of these boys should be able to recognise it!" Remus and Sirius peered closer at the gash that was almost sown up. It looked as though a nail had made it. Or claw. On second thoughts, a claw: for certain. And that of either an ostrich... or pink flamingo.

Sky began gagging as she attempted to stifle hysterical laughter. Peter looked around at the tableau before him, quite dazed; a smile gracing his lips. Remus and Sirius looked as though they didn't know how to look. With their faces twisted into an apologetic consternation, they tried to appeal to the pouting professor. Madam Marmalade unknowingly snapped the scene by calling out, "Okay, that's done. Just come up this evening, Professor, and I'll change the bandages. As for you boys... NO! You can NOT stay. NOT AT ALL!!" she shouted dramatically. Interrupting over the boys' "but" s and pleas she said, "And I won't here any more about it. Now scoot, all of you! OUT!"

Meekly, the boys and Sky exited the room. Peter gave them a wonky wave from the bed, a stupid smile plastered to his face. Behind them went Professor McGonagall, nursing her thickly bandaged arm.

***//\//\***

Sighing, Peter wondered if Professor McGonagall's bandages were itching, too. Attempting to roll over, he was pulled up short by the fact that he had been tied to the sides of the bed. Obviously Madam Marmalade considered him more able for night-time excursions than he felt. Peter only wanted to scratch - his legs ached too much for walking. Although, now that he thought about it... He wondered if the Marauders would come visit. Whether, at this moment, they were scheming up some fantastic plan to come and distract him from this agony.

On second thoughts, no. As he glanced out the window, he noticed just how close it was to the full moon. If Remus wasn't already in full werewolf shape, then he would be soon. The grounds were lit with silver, giving everything a mystical quality. From his bed, he could only see the silvered tops of the Forbidden Forest and the clear sky above. The countless stars were bright sparks against the black of night, though their light was dimmed when placed beside the beauty of that nearly full moon.

Suddenly, a sour knot pulled in Peter's stomach. Something ugly rent the air, a dying shriek of some kind. The cheers that accompanied it were loud and numerous enough to be heard through the slight opening in his window. A luminescent green scull burst forth into the sky, turning the silvered atmosphere into something harsher. All his life, Peter had feared that colour - green, especially when it was high up in the sky. And the dark mark still hung their, it's large mouth laughing.

Peter wished he could draw the curtains closed, perhaps to block out the green filtered light that entered his room, or perhaps to hide the fact that another had died. However, unable to shut them, he resorted to turning his head away, so that his eyes might face another direction. Unknown to him, a tear trickled down his cheek, while fear coiled within his muscles. Yet awe at such power held him there. Still.

***//\//\***

"Another death, Professor?"

"I fear so, Minerva." Professor Dumbledore's grey eyes were downcast, while a worried frown creased his forehead.

"Was it- Was it anyone we know, Sir?" she stumbled, her eyes pleading with him for it to not be so. Death Eater attacks were becoming a weekly occurrence, and all too many were aimed at people she knew, or friends of her knew.

"Not anyone you might know, Minerva," he said, gently. Relief clouded her eyes, though not so much for her own stress marks to disappear. Absently, she scratched at the itching bandages. "No, it was not any of the wizarding folk attacked this time. It was a muggle, living in the village out behind the Forbidden Forest. She was apparently tortured for sport, as it is said that she had caught the fancy of one of the Hogsmeade wizards." Sighing in resignation, Professor Dumbledore rubbed at his spectacles, attempting to clean their already sparkling surface. "The Ministry is already trying to clean up the mess, though they weren't quick enough to stop some of the Muggle police-men getting in."

"I worry, Professor," spoke Minerva McGonagall, and her voice was certainly quavery, "I worry and wonder, for is anywhere safe?" They were standing outside the transfiguration classroom, where Minerva had been conducting a detention. Having forgotten her duty as a teacher, however, she was suddenly reminded of it when a small gasp alerted her to the position of the students. Remus, Sirius and James were all pushed up against the door, listening to the conversation through the small crack at the bottom.

Swinging the door open, Dumbledore was only given a glance at the half tidied mess of feathers and bird poo within before the students were pushed out into the corridor. Her emotions only half under control, Professor McGonagall only gave them a quick: "Be back again tomorrow night," before the rushed them off on their way. Even Remus' "Erm, Professor...?" had only been met with a "Yes Remus, I realise, and you'll obviously be excused."

"Not quite your usual reprimand, Professor," said Albus Dumbledore, a slight glimmer of humour in his eye despite the worried lines on his face. Minerva could only give him a withering look before, she, too, went on her way.

"I must inform the Prefects - someone may already have seen the Dark Mark," she used as explanation for her abrupt departure. Albus, however, had seen the tears glistening on her cheeks, and with some surprise, after patting his cheeks noticed damp patches on his, too. Sadly, though with an angry adrenaline pumping through his veins, Professor Dumbledore quickly stepped away.

***//\//\***

Despite being upset, the Marauders were confident of their safety. Professor Dumbledore was considered the strongest wizard of their time, so surely Lord Voldemort wouldn't dare approach Hogwarts. Yet the bad news had reawakened the fear within all of them for that of their family and friends. Wizarding orphanages had been set up all around the country to cope with the sudden increase in orphaned children. Unfortunately, in more cases than not, these children were killed with their parents. None of the boys, however, had ever lost anyone they knew to the clutches of death, thus they were filled with the belief that it could never happen to them.

A worried frown pinching his forehead, James recalled his dreams. The fear of loss that he had felt within them was unbearable and simply remembering it made him shudder.

"James? James?! JAMES!!!" a voice shouted in his ear. Then was suddenly quieted by everyone around him as they all recalled that it was late at night, and Filch, the care-taker, was wandering somewhere close by. An irritated look cast at Sirius by James stopped him from waving his hand up and down in front of James' face. The broad smile on Sirius' face mocked his temper, and James chose that moment to remember the incident in which he was curse unconcious.

"So, what do you say about paying a visit to Peter?" asked Remus. Rather than bringing up the dark mark, Remus decided to change the topic of conversation to something a little more comfortable. Seeing the look on James' face, however, forced him to reconsider. They had forgotten that James wasn't allowed into the hospital wing. Or anywhere near it.

Sullen, James looked up at them and said quietly: "Sure, you guys go up. I'm tired." An angry twitch to his step was the only sign betraying his bad temper as he quickly turned his back to them and walked the other way.

"I don't think he's very happy," said Sirius, looking after his soon departed friend with a confused expression. James had always seemed like a bright light to him, what with his fun spirit and lively ways... Yet now. Now James was more often silent than talkative. Something must be bothering him, though Sirius - yet James had never really held a grudge before, and Sirius could not understand the concept.

Remus turned his gaze from James and looked to Sirius. Trying to lighten the mood he said: "I'm certain I recall stashing some sweets somewhere around here... Peter will appreciate the treat, and if you search that side of the corridor, and I search this one, then we'll find it in no time." Late in their forst year, one of the Marauders had decided that it was necessary for them to have secret stashes of 'supplies' all around the school. The fact that on a previous night Professor McGonagall had raided their rooms and confiscated all their necessary survival equipment may have been inspiration to this sudden idea.

"Yeah," said Sirius, as though coming out of a daze. "Yeah, you do that."

***//\//\***

James awoke, gasping. He'd had that dream again, the nightmare, though he still couldn't remember a thing. All he felt was a sense of loss, as undefinable as one grey cloud from another. A sense of loss combined with the fear and pang of despair that followed. Quickly, too, like the trickling sand in an hourglass, that too began to drift away from foggy mind. Despite his reaches for that small memory, his grasp could not hold it. Like a smooth fish within icy water, its scales glimmering in their own sun, his tenuous grip could not hold it. Soon, all he could remember of the dream was loss. An indistinct, fearful sense of loss. Rolling over, the clouded fog soon took over his mind, and sleep wiped his thoughts away; marks etched in sand being blown in the wind. All that remains is loss.