“Prongs, could you pass the milk please, Prongs?” asks Marauder Sirius Black, referring to Marauder James Potter.
“Absolutely, Padfoot, you Padfoot old pal. Say, Wormtail, [referring to Marauder Peter Pettigrew] did you have any more dreams about cheese, Wormtail?”
“Why no, Prongs, but Moony [referring to Marauder Remus Lupin] seemed to be enjoying his subconscious night time escapades, didn’t you, Moony?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Note the over exaggerated linguistics, as if trying to find ways of fitting their new code names into conversation in whatever way they can “ except Remus, who seems to be more reluctant to join in and is also (as happens often) looking rather tired.
Note to self: Investigate these supposed “cheese dreams” of Peter’s.
Chapter Two: Trendsetters
[Remus]
I wake up this morning from a very nice dream involving Shakespeare, his wife and a very useful House Elf called Puck, who very courteously offered me tea and cupcakes. Naturally, I was having a rather nice sub-conscious time, so it was rather disconcerting to awake to the sound of Sirius, seducing James. As you can imagine, this is a fairly disturbing thing to wake up to and any normal person would probably have to have counselling for the rest of their life. However, I have lived with Sirius, James and Peter for five years now and I have come to get used to the bizarre goings on.
“Oh, James,” he says in a voice which is rather more high pitched than I remember, but unmistakably his. “It’s Ev “ Lily, James! Oh, James, hold me! Hold me, you big hunk of man!”
Ah. That explains it, then. Sirius has taken it upon himself to “ for want of a better expression “ screw with James’s head while he sleeps.
How amusing this could all turn out.
“What’s going on in there?” I say, sitting up and grinning, looking over towards the drawn curtains of James’s four poster. I hear a crash and, oddly enough, the exclamation, “Holy gall bladders!” which is not one I’ve heard before.
“Nothing!” he yelps. I slide out of my own bed and open his curtains, surveying the scene in front. James is sleeping soundly, his glasses on his bedside table, while Sirius is lying on his back “ apparently having fallen there in alarm, after kneeling beside his friend whispering those heartfelt sweet nothings.
“Are you trying to brainwash James, Sirius?” I ask, accusingly, taking on the air of a kindly, but still firm, primary school teacher.
“It’s Prongs and Padfoot now, Moony,” he says to try and change the subject “ badly, I might add. Over the past few weeks, including OWLs, our nicknames have slowly become more well known and the other day, a small first year came up to me and called me Moony, which was actually quite unsettling.
“So ... you consider Prongs to be ... what was it ... a big hunk of man?”
I try very hard not to laugh at his slowly reddening face. “Come on, Moony, he was snoring and everything! I just wanted to see his face when he woke up thinking it was Evans, then realised it was actually me! I wanted him to drool or something!”
“What will you pay for my silence?” I ask. This is way too much fun. I must have the devil in me, yet. That was a stupid thing to say. I do not have the devil in me. I have a monster.
Sirius clutches at his heart.
“Treachery! Blackmail! I didn’t know you had it in you!”
“I didn’t know you thought of James that way, but I’m sure ... um ... oh, the whole school would be pleased to find out, wouldn’t they? Sirius Black, self proclaimed ladies schmooze, whatever that is, carries a burning flame for his best friend and Quidditch star, James Pot“”
“All right!” he protests, holding up his hands. “What do you want?”
I grin. “Oh, nothing.” And walk away.
This results in a great many shouts, threats, begs and pleads from poor, troubled Sirius and before long, James has woken up and is trying to hear the full story. Sirius will reveal none of it, but keeps shooting me furtive glances, hoping I won’t reveal his secret. Then, James starts talking a little too loudly and Sirius does the same so that his assurances of his own innocence can’t be drowned out and suddenly everyone is getting a little too paranoid about it all. I try and yell at them to shut up, but that gets us nowhere, so instead I scramble for my wand and let it emit a loud bang, several streamers shooting out of the top at the same time and landing on Sirius’s head. Which, if you ask me, looks a little ridiculous, but at least there is temporary silence. Ah, blessed silence.
“Sometimes I hate living with you guys,” Peter mutters, breaking the momentary quiet as he sits up and rubs his eyes. “I barely ever get enough sleep.”
“Sleep is for wusses,” Sirius replies, shrugging.
Peter groans and falls back on his bed, with the intent of going back to sleep now that we’ve all stopped bickering so loudly.
“Oh no you don’t,” Sirius says, pulling off his covers. “You can sleep later, we have something vitally important to do, first.”
“What?” I ask sharply, as James and Peter lean in closer. We only just finished our exams yesterday, I can’t think of anything remotely important we’ll have to do for a couple of days, at least.
Sirius takes a deep breath, enjoying his power to prolong the tension as long as he likes.
“What?” asks Peter, this time, looking excited at the prospect of an adventure.
“We need ...” he begins dramatically. The boy should join an amateur theatrical society, he really should. “... To enjoy our day!”
I sigh, relieved not to have forgotten something, whereas James laughs at the overly cheerful, almost sing-song in his voice and Peter groans and throws his pillow at him.
“That’s the spirit, Wormtail!” Sirius declares, brightly. “Who needs bedding when the sun is shining so brightly?”
And with that, he skips out of the room and down the stairs. “Uh “ Sirius? Padfoot, mate?” James calls after him and it seems it is only then that he notices he is standing in front of the whole Common Room in his pyjamas, having forgotten to get dressed. A very loud and uncouth expletive rings out, before we hear his loud footsteps thud back up the stairs.
Congratulations, Padfoot. Another job well done.
[Marty]
I wake up this morning to the sound of the violin, which can only be Lily. She likes to practise in the mornings, she says it wakes her up. She’s really very good, but I can’t help noticing a mournful sound to the melody this morning.
Not everyone is always supportive of her playing. Mary and Roxanne generally don’t complain, but Phyllis (known simply as Phyll to most) usually moans it’s giving her a headache. Still, some days “ like today “ Lily does it anyway.
Now that the OWLs are over, I feel it’s time to really focus on my Plight of the Pixie campaign before we all go home for the holidays, so I plan to raise as much awareness about pixies as I can. I start with Lily, sitting up and listening to her finish the song on her violin, as she stares out of the window, a little overdramatically. I pretend not to notice her silent tears.
“‘Morning, Lily,” I say. She starts and nearly drops her violin in her hurry to rub at her eyes.
“How much do you know about pixies?” I ask, upfront. She looks confused at the odd question, but everyone’s used to me being a little different by now.
“They’re from Cornwall, right? Mostly?”
I nod.
“Um ... they’re kind of blueish? I’ve never seen one in real life. Aren’t they meant to be really mischievous? Picking people up by the ears and stuff?”
I nod again, solemnly. “That’s they’re defence mechanism, yes, which people mistake for mischief. But it’s not true “ they’re actually doing it as a defence against those who want to exploit them.”
Lily frowns. “How do you exploit a pixie?”
“Well, that’s just it,” I sigh. “That’s what people always say. They presume that just because pixies enjoy a laugh while they defend themselves, that they’re not in danger “ that they’re not on the brink of extinction!”
Lily looks alarmed “ who wouldn’t be, to realise something so drastic was happening underneath everyone’s noses? She is probably cursing herself for being so naïve. This is why I work for The Cause; to educate people about what needs to be done.
“I didn’t realise it was that bad!”
“Of course you didn’t,” I say understandingly. “But people get annoyed with them ... they start treating them horribly, using spells and things. No wonder they react against us! We need to raise awareness fast and stop people harming the poor creatures!”
“I’m not sure they’re being harmed, Marty,” Lily tells me, carefully. “Not many people like the idea of being picked up by the ear and flown away.”
“That’s no reason to jinx them!” I cry, enthusiastically. “Here, just sign this petition. I’ll send it to the Minister when I have ... ooh ... two hundred signatures should do it and they can know that people are serious about keeping our ancient magical environment and species intact.”
“But surely there are more important issues?” Lily now asks.
“Any issue is an important issue, Lily,” I say sternly. “You should remember that.”
She sighs. “All right.”
And signs my petition.
One down “ one hundred and ninety nine to go!
[Remus]
After the small pyjama mishap “ which Sirius solved by acting his usual self (i.e. what he probably thinks his smooth and suave, but what is actually idiotic) and acting like he’d done it on purpose “ we went down to breakfast, happily planning how we’d spend our day; even I was looking forward to not having to study for any imminent and life changing exams.
And now, after a delicious breakfast of ham and eggs, we have predictably found ourselves sitting underneath our favourite tree by the lake. James has started playing with that confounded Snitch of his, while Peter is wetting himself once again with excitement. Meanwhile, Sirius and I are having a slightly heated, but overall friendly discussion about one of the questions that came up on the Charms Theory exam. That is, we were until something else caught his ever wandering eye.
“What is that mad Marty girl doing, now?” he asks, staring across the Grounds.
“And that’s why I don’t think “ what?” I stop, mid-sentence.
“That Marty girl. It looks like she’s setting up some kind of ...” his voice trails off as he tries to think of the right word. I too, turn around to look.
“Stall?” I suggest.
“Yes, thank you, Moony.”
“I see what you mean,” Peter says, joining us in staring over at her. “She’s crazy.”
I have to say, a part of me can’t help but agree. As I squint towards her stall “ smack bang in the middle of the Grounds “ I try and make out the banner above it, floating in mid-air.
The Plight Of The Pixie
“The plight of the what?” James says incredulously.
At the same time, Peter says in the same tone of voice, “The what of the pixie?”
“I wasn’t aware that pixies were in any immediate danger,” I say, which is perfectly true. After all, we learnt about them a couple of years ago in Defence Against the Dark Arts and never once did it come up that they even had a “plight”; quite the opposite, in fact.
“That’s because they aren’t in danger,” James scoffs. “You should know by now that Marty Price is one of the nuttiest people at this school. Nothing she campaigns for is ever real! Remember the time she started trying to organise a protest march against using pumpkins in our drinks, pasties and Hallowe’en celebrations? Something about not exploiting one of nature’s greatest assets? I heard somewhere that she, her Mum and whoever else runs that mad tea shop on Diagon Alley have never drank pumpkin juice, they just have water, while they’ve never eaten a pumpkin pasty either and during Hallowe’en they make the things out of paper instead. And remember when she was protesting using newt eyes in potions? And when she wouldn’t powder her beetles because it would damage their natural beauty? And I’ve not even started on the way she stares at us all the time, like we’re some kind of specimen! And do you guys remember when “”
“Shut up, James,” I say, deliberately not using his nickname. Peter immediately stops his sniggering. Sirius turns to look at me, eyebrows raised, as it’s not often I interrupt my friends; or, indeed, anybody for that matter. I wish he wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry?” James says, perplexed. I feel myself reddening, but don’t give in.
“Leave her alone,” I say defiantly. Not sticking up for Snape when they do him wrong is one thing. A Gryffindor girl with not many friends is quite another. “Look, she seems upset. Everyone’s ignoring her stall.” It’s true that she is looking a little forlorn as people either go past with their heads down, avoiding eye contact, or just openly mock her.
“Um,” James says, surprised and kind of affronted at my sudden attack of gentleman-like morals. “That’s because it’s a load of horse baloney.”
“So?” I snap at him, a little too harshly and immediately soften my voice. You have to tread very carefully when arguing something like this to James or Sirius. “There’s no reason to mock her, she’s a Gryffindor, like us. We should ... we should be ... I mean, she’s not doing anything wrong.”
“No ...” he says slowly, like I’m a child having difficulty grasping a particularly complex rule. “... She’s just crazy.”
“Some might say you are, the way you sit around deluding yourself that Lily Evans is in love with you,” I retort and immediately regret it.
“Ooh,” Peter says, wincing. “Harsh.”
I sigh and any anger that remains leaves me at once. “Sorry. But I don’t see why we should be turning on our own House, now.”
“I wasn’t turning on her, I was just “”
I cut across James for the second time today. “I mean, sure she’s ... unconventional, but let’s save it for the Slytherins, right?”
James nods, but still seems a little perplexed.
Sirius smiles. “Sure, Moony. If you like. What would we do without your moral guidance, eh?”
“You’d all go to Hell,” I reply and Sirius grins.
Soon, all is back to normal, which I know because James begins playing with his Snitch again.
However, after a minute or two more of watching everyone ignore Marty’s good intentions “ however misguided “ I give in.
“Oh, come on!” I say, standing up and striding off towards her. My friends soon catch me up, shooting me the odd confused look, but to their credit, they keep quiet about my unexplained (even to me) rush of sympathy for the odd girl we’ve all gotten used to and her unusual ways.
[Marty]
Remus Lupin. What about him, you say? He’s just come to my campaign stall. That’s what.
“Hi,” I say nervously. My eyes glance towards an “ almost filled “ notebook of Marauder Observations and my hand twitches a little, wanting to start scribbling about this latest development immediately. I resist it. “Are you here to sign the petition?”
He looks down at it, seeming surprised. He pretends not to notice that there are only two signatures (mine and Lily’s) and I pretend not to notice that he’s pretending not to notice.
“Sure,” he says, taking a quill and signing the petition. His signature interests me. It’s small and neat, but with an intriguing flair of character. I get an idea and shove a blank piece of parchment at him. “And can you sign here, too?” I ask.
“Um ... what for?”
“Oh, just, you know, official reasons,” I say brightly. He looks unconvinced, but signs it anyway.
“How about you guys?” I say to the other Marauders. “Are you signing?”
“I “ we “ um “” James seems to be having an internal struggle. “Well ... what exactly are we signing for?”
“Oh, just to let the Minister know that people are serious about our concern for the exploitation of pixies nationwide,” I tell him.
“Exp “ exp “ exploit “ you really think “ pixies “ exploited?”
“Congratulations, Prongs,” Sirius says, grinning. “You’ve finally achieved your lifelong goal of sounding like an blabbering idiot.”
“He achieved that years ago,” says Peter, laughing and he signs the petition and also “ without questioning it’s reasons “ the other bit of parchment. Sirius follows suit, winking at me as he does so. I feel a thrill of excitement. A Marauder! Winking at me!
“Thanks,” I say brightly. “Would you like a T Shirt?”
I indicate my many handmade T Shirts on display around the stall. They all depict merry looking pixies and I have charmed them to wave and occasionally pull mischievous but loveable faces. The one I am wearing has two pixies, doing back flips and waving.
This seems too much for James. “Just give me the petition,” he mutters, pulling it towards him and signing both bits hurriedly.
“Thanks very much!” I say. They leave quickly, James going ahead of the rest, his head down. Remus turns round at the last minute and smiles at me. Smiles! As if I’m his friend!
It becomes too much and I reach for the notebook and a quill and start writing.
It seems the Marauders “ and, in particular, Marauder Remus Lupin “ are interested in moral issues after all, after signing a petition to raise awareness about “The Plight of the Pixie”. I have also managed to gain their signatures for analy“
“Excuse me?”
I stop writing and look up. There is a queue of people waiting at my stall. The bold second year who spoke looks nervous, but continues nevertheless.
“Was that Sirius Black, James Potter and their friends just now?”
“Why, yes,” I say, smiling at the boy. “It was.”
“Oh,” the boy says, smiling back. “Then can I sign whatever it is they did?”
I blink. “Do you want to know about the issue you’re raising awareness for?”
“No thanks,” he says. “I just want to sign it.”
Trendsetters. Don’t you just love them?
AN: Hey! That was the second chapter, I hope you enjoyed it ... soon there might even be a real plot! Yeah “ a real one! Radical, huh? First, please leave a review, because I’d love to know what you guys think of Marty and the crew!