CHAPTER NINE: Counting Down and Winding Up
Lily awoke in the groggy half-light of dawn. As was her habit now, she glanced at the countdown calendar taped next to her bed. August 18th. Just a few more days until she would be getting back on that wonderful steam engine to go back to her wonderful school and her wonderful friends.
The summer had been... well, different was the best way to put it. It wasn’t bad, necessarily, but what is one to expect when returning to a life without magic? And it wasn’t just a life without magic, it was a life without magic and all that came with it. Without Hogwarts, without the Daily Prophet, and”most importantly”without her friends. Sure, they had seen each other every once in a while (most recently just two weeks ago in Diagon Alley), but her days had mainly been spent in relative solitude. Her friends from primary school were nice, sure, but it wasn’t as if she could turn to them to talk about the Wagga Wagga Werewolf anytime soon now, was it?
It was just different. Lily felt like she was keeping secrets from the people she had grown up with. And she was, of course. She obviously was forbidden to tell them about Hogwarts. But she couldn’t even share stories about people or classes or major events for fear of accidentally revealing some “classified” information. So time with friends from primary school was spent dodging questions about her supposed “boarding school,” and Lily was getting a bit weary of the lies.
Really, she just couldn’t wait to slip back into the life she had grown to love at Hogwarts. She wanted to be back in the loop; her fingers were itching to try new spells. She was even hesitant to open her new spellbooks for fear that she would inadvertently mutter a spell under her breath, and, from what she’d heard, the Misuse of Magic Office was not a fun one to be in contact with, especially for an underage witch. Eventually, of course, curiosity killed the cat (she always sent an apologetic look to Blanche when she used this expression, but he just purred away), and she cracked open The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two. But even Miranda Goshawk’s charms and spells couldn’t quench her desire to be back at Hogwarts.
Hence the countdown calendar.
Lily realized that six o’clock was too early even for her, so she rolled over and desperately tried to relocate the warm spot under her covers. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, she was asleep again.
***
Remus, of course, was very used to countdown calendars. But he had never looked at one with anticipation before. Well, his calendar served two purposes this summer. Every twenty-eight or so days was the familiar mark of the full moon, but there was also a new mark: a giant red circle around September First. The day he could get back to his Hogwarts life. His real life. His friends.
In his mind, this summer had played out differently. More time with Sirius”they were neighbors, after all. More visits with Lily. More sojourns to the country to see James. Even more rides on the Underground to see Peter! But things hadn’t really worked out the way he planned. They never did.
Oh sure, he saw the boys. He saw Lily. But it wasn’t as often as he’d hoped. Remus had a sinking suspicion the Blacks had figured out that Sirius had a friend just feet away from their door, and thus had spent inordinate amounts of time at the summer house. Remus knew that Sirius didn’t intentionally leave him all alone on Grimmauld Place, but of course Sirius preferred to be in the country with James, his best friend! Who could blame him? Peter was kept on a pretty short leash, apparently by his stepmother, though the boys never really talked about it. And Lily was all the way out in the suburbs, and it was hard to go see her without arousing those horrid “Aw, Remus wants to visit his girlfriend!” looks from his parents. Remus knew that he and Lily were nothing more than friends, but for some reason the elder Lupins could just not fit that little bit of information through their heads. So he gradually realized that letters were much less complicated than visits, and although they were pretty slow at times, at least he could still talk to Lily.
And, try as he might to forget, he was still a werewolf. To make matters worse, it seemed that for some reason his symptoms were getting worse. He was now twelve and a half years old, and as much as he hated when his parents used the dreaded “puberty” word, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps his lycanthropy was just not agreeing with his growth spurts and voice cracks, or was at least changing along with him. He was taller now, which was nice, but he felt so much more restless and agitated in the days leading up to the full moon, and he just knew that this would only get worse as he kept growing.
He glanced at the calendar again. August 18th. He was three days past the full moon, so it was all systems normal. He was just a regular boy now. Or as “regular” as a secret adolescent werewolf wizard can actually be.
Smiling a bit ruefully, he thought about his particular situation. Parents and teachers were constantly telling him he seemed so old for his age, but he had always just brushed them off. Didn’t old people say that all the time? Right before they pinched your cheeks and said, “My, how you’ve grown”? But maybe, just maybe, they were right. And Remus was never really sure how to feel about being “wise beyond his years,” but he was beginning to realize that there was a lot more to it than wisdom. But why did his werewolf tendencies have to start acting up now? It would be much harder to explain away his moods and his absences if they started making themselves much more pronounced.
Sometimes he could not believe his friends hadn’t figured him out yet. Sirius, James, and Lily were all brilliant, but they had just accepted his excuses every time. Surely, surely they suspected something, right? After all, how many times could he say “My mum is sick” before they just threw in the towel and demanded to go to St. Mungo’s with him? His luck was going to run out soon. He just knew it.
But would it really matter if it did? A large part of him wanted so badly to tell them. To just confess everything. He knew they would accept him. He didn’t know how he knew, or why, but some part of him was assured that this bunch would not be scared off. In fact, they’d probably love it.
Even deeper than this knowledge of their certain acceptance, however, was his knowledge that he could never tell. He couldn’t break Professor Dumbledore’s trust. He couldn’t just carelessly disregard everything that Hogwarts had sacrificed to accept him merely because it was sometimes hard to keep a secret.
But some nights as he fell asleep, a small part of Remus was comforted with a single thought: “They could find out on their own!” As he lay in bed, he would begin to brainstorm various ways to “help” them figure out his secret. And although he knew he would probably never actually put these plans into action, on these nights, he slept much more soundly.
***
It always amazed Peter Pettigrew how easily his stepmother got annoyed. It was OK because she never stayed irritated for long, but she seemed to give in to little perturbations much more often than not. And much more often than his father, for certain.
For instance, some time in the middle of July, Peter had asked his dad if he wanted to help him make a calendar counting down the days until he returned to Hogwarts. It wasn’t like he was dying to get out of the house or anything, but apparently that was how Frances took it. She pursed her lips and didn’t say anything, but her eyes spoke volumes”they usually did.
Douglas had accepted the offer, though, and dove into the project with gusto. As soon as the calendar was finished and hung near the breakfast table, Peter started to climb up the stairs to check with his owl for any new letters from Sirius, James, or Remus. As his foot landed on the third step, he heard the familiar sounds of an argument drifting up from the kitchen.
“Frances, I just don’t understand why you don’t respect his decision! He wanted to go to Hogwarts. He loves it there! So what if he wants to make a calendar? So what if he wants to go back? We should be happy for him! Can’t you respect that?” Peter found himself nodding in agreement, and his eyes felt a little moist with the thought that his father was defending him.
He heard his stepmother exhale, and he could picture her nostrils flared in annoyance, as they so often were. He couldn’t help but give a little giggle. Sometimes she really looked like a horse. “Douglas,” he heard her say, “I respect him, of course I do, it’s just that he’s only twelve years old! Does he really know what’s best for him?”
“Well, I think he should have a pretty good idea, and if he doesn’t, it’s about time for him to learn! I mean, if he grows up being bossed around by people, how will he ever learn to stand up for himself?” asked Douglas, posing a decidedly bold question, but sounding rather unsure as he said it.
“That’s not the point, darling,” she replied. “The point is that he’s still so young, and I just don’t think now is the right time for him to be making life-changing decisions like this! I’m not ‘bossing him around.’ I’m just asking that how does he even know that he wants to grow up as a Wizard? He could just renounce magic and live life as a normal boy””
Douglas cut her off. “My dear, haven’t we had this conversation a million times already? Renouncing magic is harder than it sounds. It’s a part of you, it’s...”
But Peter didn’t stay for the rest. They really had had the conversation a million times. Magic seemed so hard for Muggles to grasp; Peter really didn’t understand. It wasn’t like a faucet that you could turn on and off. And why would he even think about renouncing magic? He loved magic!
But the two of them could spend hours talking about it, debating, and having their little arguments. In the end, they always agreed to disagree, and to kiss and make up. It didn’t really bother Peter anymore. By dinnertime, this little spat was completely forgotten. By Douglas and Frances, that is.
That particular argument had taken place about a month ago. The calendar this morning had read August 18th. Peter flopped down onto his bed. August 18th. Just a few more days. He flipped over on his back and shut his eyes, trying to concentrate on his most recent letter from Remus. But his father’s words from that day kept floating up to the surface. “If he grows up being bossed around by people, how will he ever learn to stand up for himself?” The thought disturbed him, but he wasn’t sure why. Did he let himself be bossed around? Surely not. His friends were too good to take advantage of him like that.
But still, something about the sentiment of the words kept ringing in his ears. He turned over once again, and eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.
***
“No, mate, what I said was that you couldn’t play Seeker if they attached wings to the Quaffle!” Sirius grinned from atop his broomstick as he let his words sink in. The boys had been playing Quidditch for hours, practically from sun up to sun down every day for a week. The Blacks had gotten wind of Remus, and the thought of their son potentially being happy in London was enough to drive them to the country, where at least they could keep him around respectable Wizard families. Not like he ever paid attention to what his parents said, of course.
James heard Sirius’s insult, cocked his head to one side and raised his Beater’s bat. “You want to say that one more time? Maybe I should come closer, eh?” He shot forward a bit on his new Nimbus 1001 and playfully swung the bat at Sirius, who ducked out of the way just in time, rolling into a perfectly controlled spin and barreling down toward the ground, coming to a halt right in front of Mrs. Potter, who looked like she was about to faint.
“Boys, do you have to fly so high, and with all the crazy spin moves and such?” She was clutching her chest and squeezing her husband’s arm, her knuckles white with fright, and her face even paler.
“‘Course they do!” grunted Charles jovially from her side. “Sirius, that was a beautiful dive, if I do say so myself. You should think about giving Seeker a try! Give Jamesy-Boy a run for his money!” He gave Sirius a wink, though they both knew that if anybody gave ‘Jamesy-Boy’ a ‘run for his money,’ there would most certainly be consequences.
“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Potter. I don’t think I’m quite cut out for Seeker,” Sirius said, deftly deflecting any of Mr. Potter’s worry. But he couldn’t help but add in a taunt or two: “I mean, I’m better than James, of course, but who isn’t?” Sirius returned the wink, sending a hearty one Charles’s way.
James had now joined his family on the ground. He hopped off his broomstick and started to peel off his gloves. “I know who is better than me,” he said, perhaps a tad too morosely. “Michael McKinnon.”
“Rubbish!” said Charles.
“Surely he’s not!” said Grace.
“Yeah, he is pretty good,” said Sirius, grinning.
James shot his friend a look and plopped onto the ground. “He is, though. He’s a brilliant Seeker! And he’s already on the team! And he’s practically best mates with the Captain. How am I supposed to compete with that?”
“Have you tried bribery?” his father suggested, and there was a bit of an awkward silence before Charles chuckled and said, “Only joking, only joking.” But not everyone was convinced he really was.
“Oh, James,” said Grace, reaching down to smooth her son’s hair for the umpteenth time that day. “I’m sure the Quidditch tryouts will be fine. You boys looked so talented up there, doing your Dempsey Dives!”
Sirius and James both smiled. “Dempsen Dives, Mrs. Potter,” Sirius corrected her as he dismounted his own broomstick. “But good try!” He gave her an encouraging pat on the arm.
“Well, with so many Quidditch books lying around the house... I mean, what’s a mother to do but try to brush up on it?” she asked. Charles had never looked prouder of his wife.
Just then though, the bliss was shattered by a shriek coming from the direction of the Potter’s kitchen”more specifically, their kitchen fireplace. Sirius groaned automatically as he realized the voice. “Well,” he said, hitching his broomstick over his shoulder. “I guess that means Mum wants me to come home for supper.”
“Are you sure you can’t stay?” asked Mrs. Potter, giving Sirius one of her pleading-pity looks.
“Yes, but thanks, as always. I’ve got to finish a letter to Remus anyway, so it’s best that I go home.”
“Oh, I bet you two are so excited to see everyone again! James, you should write Remus a letter, too!” Grace said, and fixed her imploring stare on her son.
“I already have, Mum! Sent it off with Tufts yesterday.”
“That’s excellent! And is Remus going to get to come visit us again before school starts? What day is it today?”
“It’s August 18th, Mum. I don’t think we’ll get to see him again, but at least there are only a few days left before we go back!” James jumped up and tried to click his heels together in mid-air, but only managed to trip over his broomstick.
Sirius gave a snort and started home. “I’ll leave now, so that donkey will stop her braying,” he said, making Mrs. Potter scowl and give him a little slap on the head, though she did look relieved that Mrs. Black’s screeches would soon stop.
After a few paces, though, Sirius turned back around. “I’m sleeping over tonight, yeah? Is that still all right?”
“Sure, just come back over after dinner,” said James, thinking that “sleeping over” was perhaps not the best way to describe their upcoming night. Midnight games of Quidditch were much more fun than sleep.
Of Cauldrons and Comrades by LuthAn
Chapter Notes: Hello, hello, dear readers! Welcome to summer 1972, when everyone is just itching to get back to Hogwarts!! A few preemptive notes: Yes, I know James does not play Seeker in the books. Just trust me on this one. :) I also know that I have the parents' names wrong. I started writing before the Black Family Tree was released, unfortunately, so do try to forgive me! Thanks as always to my betas and my readers/reviewers, and happy reading!