The argument will not last. They would never depart for home tomorrow without making up their differences. Besides â“ they are never angry for long. The longest was one and a half weeks in second year. It all reached a very dramatic climax when they duelled in the Entrance Hall one afternoon. Professor McGonagall started demanding to know âthe meaning of thisâ and they started covering up for each other like nothing had ever happened. It was a true display of friendship at itâs finest.
Chapter Four: The Bullies
[Marty]
I put down my quill and look around the Common Room. Remus is sitting in one of the armchairs in the corner, staring at an open book in his hands. Now that I have proclaimed him â“ secretly â“ my new Cause, I have been keeping an even closer eye on him than usual and happen to know that he has not turned the page of that book for fifteen minutes, after arriving back here from lunch and opening it at a random page. I donât think it would be too much of a leap of faith if I were to say that he is certainly not reading that book.
I decide that the time is right to make my move. I close my eyes for a moment and picture my mother, in our tea shop, talking to a customer calmly and gently, without expecting them to give her any more than they want to.
I open my eyes and start to fill my arms with as much junk as possible. I begin to amble over to his corner, as if going there completely by chance. When I reach him, I suddenly trip over nothing in particular and drop the many things I had been holding.
âOh!â I cry dramatically, glancing over at Remus quickly, before dropping to my knees and gathering my things up. I donât look up again, but I know he saw me. Hopefully, heâll feel the need to â“
âHere, let me help,â I hear him say and conceal a grin. Phase One of âOperation: Help Remusâ, complete.
âThanks,â I say, looking up and smiling.
âWhy were you carrying a turnip across the Common Room?â he asks, holding up said turnip. Oops. Maybe I should have taken note of what I was going to carry (and, indeed, drop). What was a turnip doing lying around, anyway?
âI was ... um ...â my mind invents wildly. âI was just tidying up. No one wants an untidy Common Room. Itâll do no good for peopleâs spirits, which is no good for The Cause. And it gives the house-elves one less thing to do, doesnât it? And ...â I try to think of something else plausible, but he seems already satisfied.
âOkay, okay. Look, why donât you just ...â he pulls out his wand, swishes it and flicks it. The items I had bent to pick up in the hope he would come to my aid all rise in the air.
I laugh nervously. âWhat a good idea! So ... can I sit with you?â
He looks startled and I curse my everlasting lack of subtlety. âUh ...â
âI mean, youâre sitting alone, Iâm sitting alone, maybe we could be alone together, you know?â
He looks suspicious. âAre you trying to flirt with me?â
I nearly choke with alarm. âWhat? No! Why would I â“? Not that youâre â“ I wasnât â“ I just meant ...â
He smiles, albeit tiredly. He flicks his wand again and the floating items order themselves into a neat pile next to our table. âGo ahead.â
He sits down and picks up his book again. I sit next to him and for a moment try to think of something to do. Remus seems to have decided to ignore me. I reach into my bag and take out my Pixie notes. If he doesnât want to talk to me, then fine. Maybe companionship will be enough to help him. I begin to design a banner and maybe some T Shirts for my campaign and soon I become so absorbed in my task, that I jump about a foot in the air when Remus says my name.
âMarty â“ oops, sorry! Marty, youâre a nice person, right?â
âUm ... Well. I do try not to be horrible ...â
âRight! And, if I ... say, if I told you ...â he sighs. âI donât know if you noticed, but me and my friends are kind of angry at each other right now.â
âWell ... yeah, I did pick up that vibe.â
âRight. I mean, I donât want to be fighting with them all the time, after what they â“ I mean, theyâre good friends to me. But sometimes ... sometimes they just ... itâs like they get something into their heads and they just push it and push it and donât let it slide. They â“ look, you wonât tell anyone this, will you?â
I shake my head. âOf course not.â Itâs just that I might jot it down in a notebook later on.
âOkay ... Iâm not going to tell you exactly. But they can help me with something, right? Only, they might get in trouble for it. And so they offered to ... to help at my house over the summer, only I said no, because my parents might get in trouble, too. Only they kept pushing it and then ... and then some things were said which none of us meant. I donât think. And now ...â
âNone of you want to make the first move?â I fill in, since his voice had trailed off.
âRight,â he says, snapping out of wherever he had drifted off to. âSo until one of us apologises, then weâre all just going to sit around being miserable.â
âSo why doesnât someone just apologise?â I ask, thoroughly confused. Okay, so I havenât exactly had much experience in the friendship department. The closest I have is Lily, since she is the one most likely to take pity on me out of all the girls in my Dorm. And sheâs not really counted as a friend, since sheâs often with that Snape guy. And I wouldnât be her second choice either. That would be Roxie or Mary, or maybe even Phyll.
Remus smiles at my innocent question. âItâs called pride, Marty. We all have a little too much of it.â
âWell, it seems stupid to me. If you still want to be friends, why not just apologise now instead of waiting around? It would really be a lot simpler. And, if they are the ones helping you with â“ uh, whatever it is â“ then itâs really your decision isnât it?â
He blinks. âSometimes, Marty, youâre like a breath of fresh air. Everythingâs simple with you, isnât it?â
I shrug. I never really thought about it before, but I suppose itâs true. âWell, whatâs the point of over-complicating things? It wonât get you anywhere, will it? Just more and more miserable. If I were you, Iâd just make up. What is it thatâs so terrible if they get caught, anyway?â
âI really canât tell you. Iâm sorry. Itâs very complicated. But ... you know, I might just accept your advice. Weâre going home tomorrow, after all.â
I smile. âIn that case, my work is done.â I stand and levitate the pile of items in the corner, then walk away, hovering them in front of me, feeling completely satisfied at my achievements. I didnât even embarrass myself with lack of subtlety! At least ... not much.
[Remus]
I stare after that girl â“ that crazy girl â“ feeling utterly perplexed. Since when was Marty Price capable of intelligent conversation? Usually itâs just her talking about her latest âCauseâ and you nodding occasionally, waiting for the chance to get away.
If you still want to be friends, why not just apologise now instead of waiting around?
You know what? Why not, indeed. I look across the Common Room and spot Sirius in an armchair, arms folded, glaring at the floor. Typical of him not to even bother pretending to be busy.
I wander over to him, casually. âHey, Si â“ Padfoot,â I say when I reach him, deliberately not using his real name. âHave you seen J â“ um, Prongs or Wormtail about?â
He looks up, begrudgingly. âWhy would you want them? Donât you hate us all? We deserve it. Or, at least, I certainly do, after what I said.â
I swallow hard. Someoneâs feeling sorry for themselves, arenât they? âNo you donât. Besides, if weâre going to celebrate the reuniting of Hogwartsâ most troublesome foursome, weâre going to need all four people, arenât we?â
Sirius shakes his head. âDonât try and be nice, Moony, you should have real friends. Not wastes of space like us. Go on, Iâm not stopping you.â
His â“ probably subconscious â“ use of âMoonyâ is the only thing lets me know Iâm right on track â“ but itâs enough. âOh, Padders, where would I ever find anyone in quite the same league as you guys?â
The smile I have come to know so well slowly slides back into place. âCertainly not a dump like this. Come on, I bet I know exactly where the other two are ...â
Sure enough, when we climb through the painting into the Kitchens, James and Peter are sitting on one of the miniature work surfaces, drowning their sorrows in what looks like the entirety of Gryffindorâs leftover pies from lunch. It seems they have worked out a wordless system whereby Peter shells away the pastry and puts it on Jamesâs plate, then eats the meaty filling himself. James always did have a bit of a pastry fetish. Who knows how many they have got through in this manner?
They both look up in alarm when we enter. âHi, guys,â I say a little nervously. âHaving fun?â
After a momentâs thought, James says, âPie good.â
And that is that.
Half an hour later, we leave the house-elves, who promise to send up a feast of pure puff pastry, sometime around midnight (as a leaving present, one can assume) and make our way back up towards the Entrance Hall. Just as we come up from one side, none other than Severus Snape appears from out of the dungeons on the other.
âPerfect. Want to make our reconciliation official?â Sirius asks, passively, as if asking whether to have another game of Exploding Snap.
However, his malicious grin is rivalled only by Jamesâs. âI think,â he replies. âThat thatâs an excellent suggestion, Padfoot.â
After only just smoothing over our differences, who would even think of protesting?
[Marty]
I watch with some interest as Roxie and Phyll â“ the two procrastinators of the Dorm â“ are running around in circles, trying in desperation to pack as much into their trunks as they can.
âHas anyone seen my hairbrush?â Roxie asks, nervously.
Her question is barely heard, however, over Phyll practically screaming, âWhich one of you thieves stole my alarm clock?â
âNo one stole it, Phyll,â I say from my position on my bed. âYou put it in a safe place because you hated it. I think your exact words were, âit sucks out my brain as I sleep,â And, Roxie, last time I saw your hairbrush, it was under Maryâs bed.â
âThanks,â Roxie says, before diving under the aforementioned bed and squealing, âMary! When was the last time you cleaned under here?â
Phyll, however, glares at me. âNo one asked you, Marty.â
âWere you not addressing the whole Dorm? Sorry, my mistake. You should really try and be clearer about that sort of thing, you know.â
âDonât start getting smart with me, Marty,â she warns, darkly. I shrug. Being âsmartâ wasnât what I was trying to do, I was just stating facts. But sometimes people donât like it when I do that.
âYouâre so annoying! Why arenât you packing?â she asks, frustrated. âWhy are you always so organised? Itâs maddening!â
I pause for a moment. âWere you talking to me, this time?â I ask, innocently, because I genuinely didnât want to upset her by getting it wrong again.
The only way to describe the strangled yell she then makes, is âArg!â but that doesnât quite get across the sheer aggravation in her voice. Sheâs not normally this bad, itâs just the stress of packing, mostly â“ but I decide to leave before any more damage is done. Currently, everyone in the Dorm kind of fits in together, so I donât want to disrupt that too much.
I wander down to the Common Room and notice straight away that Remus has left and so has Sirius. I wonder where they are? Did Remus make it up with them after our talk?
But what if our talk hadnât been enough to convince him? What if it went wrong? What if the others turned against him? He could be sitting in a corner of the Library, crying silently to himself and all because I ...
Sweet Merlin, I have to help him!
I begin scouring all the likely places around the school, but cannot find him anywhere. Does this mean he and the Marauders are off having fun? I hope so. But I wonât rest until I know, because what if I made everything worse when I stuck my nose in?
Eventually, I reach the Entrance Hall. There is a large crowd. I think I can hear James and Siriusâs voices above the excitement. They sound ... malicious. My breath catches. What are they saying to him?
I push my way through the crowd, fully expecting to see Remus being ganged up on, fully expecting to feel my veins fill with ice at the sight which is my own fault. But itâs not Remus with a wand pointing at his chest. Itâs Lilyâs friend â“ itâs that Snape guy. Sirius has two wands in his hand, his own and that Snape guyâs. Jamesâs wand is doing the pointing. Peter and Remus stand back, smirking at the scene in front of them. Smirking. Like itâs some kind of circus show.
The icy fear inside of me suddenly turns to red-hot rage. âHey!â I yell, before I can stop myself. âStop that!â
All eyes turn to me. I feel a little queasy at the attention. âWhat do you want, Price?â asks Sirius, sneering a little.
âI want you to leave him alone. We need to be making the world a better place, how are we supposed to do that by turning on our own classmates? We can only work towards The Cause if everyone puts aside their differences and â“â
âGet lost, Price, no one wants you here. You or your pointless theories. All right? In fact, why do you even bother coming to school anymore? No one likes you.â
Anger turns to hurt. Are these the same guys who signed my petition? Are these really the same guys who I admire so much? I know theyâre not perfect and Iâve always known that. Iâm well aware they are capable of bullying. But never people from their own House. Sure, theyâll prank their fellow Gryffindors â“ but they would never deliberately hurt their feelings. Unless, of course, Iâve been concentrating so hard on the details of their lives and personalities, that I never saw the truth â“ the one thing that stands out above all others. The Bully in them.
My eyes seek Remus. Remus, who I spoke to not hours before. Remus, who I helped work through his problems. Remus, who told me I was â“ what was it? â“ a breath of fresh air. My eyes must give away what I am feeling, for I see remorse in his own.
But he does nothing. He just looks away.
For one of the few times in my life, I truly long for a real friend. Not just want one. Not just like the idea of one. But completely long for one. Someone to cover up for my hurt with a scathing comment right back and to hug me later and tell me theyâre not worth it.
But I donât have a friend. Not like that. Not really. Thereâs no one to cover for me. My eyes fill with tears. Before I let them see me cry, I turn and force my way back through the crowd, up to the marble staircase and away from there.
Anywhere, where I can get away from their faces.
[Remus]
I watch Marty run away in tears and curse my own cowardice. After what she did for me earlier today; after the way she made me realise how important my friends are. And as soon as they turn on her, what do I do? As soon as she looks at me with those eyes full of pain, what do I do?
Nothing. Itâs just that I hadnât wanted to start another argument with my friends so soon. Not after spending so long not talking to them.
âCome on,â James says into the silence, sounding a little shocked himself. âCome on, itâs not worth it anymore. Letâs go.â
âAll right,â Sirius agrees. âHang on, though.â He takes Snapeâs wand and throws it over the top of the crowd, far across the other side of the Entrance Hall. âGo fetch, Snivelly.â
We leave, the crowd parting our way towards the staircase Marty just ran up.
An hour or two later, the incident is almost forgotten, as we run round in circles trying to collect all our things together into our trunks.
âWhy,â growls James, whilst throwing socks about randomly, âdo we always leave it this late?â
âDonât talk,â Sirius replies. âJust pack.â
Another hour later and we have collapsed. Our trunks are at the front of our beds, bursting with all of our possessions â“ but they are closed. The room looks oddly bare.
âCanât wait to personalise this place again next year,â James says, staring at the blank walls which are usually adorned with posters and hangings. âIâm thinking a real all-out Quidditch theme. Start collecting team posters over the summer, lads, it doesnât matter who they are.â
âYou can come do my room if youâre that keen on interior design,â Sirius says. âI want to really drive my parents over the edge with it this time. Most preferably red and gold all round.â
âHow about Muggle prints? You know, ones that arenât moving. Iâll get practising my permanent sticking charms,â I suggest.
âYouâre a genius, Moony. Imagine the old batâs face ...â
âComedy,â Peter comments.
âIndeed.â
We continue making plans for our holidays, no one particularly wanting to go back down to the Common Room like we would any other night. Tonight is about the Marauders.
As it gets darker and darker outside, we keep talking and it starts to get a little weird â“ we are very loudly and extrovertly discussing the pros and cons of certain puddings (âYou canât beat tiramisu. Tiramisu is the kind of dessert that looks innocent and inviting, then kicks you in the balls and runs off with your wallet. Damn, I love the stuff!â Sirius had proclaimed loudly, to be told that he had just earned many âGay Pointsâ by James. See what I mean about it getting weird?) when there is a loud crack.
James falls off his bed in alarm.
âOkay, now you totally just took those Gay Points back,â Sirius tells him.
The house-elf which caused the cracking noise brings itself up from a low bow. âI is delivering your pastry, sirs,â the house-elf says. It is then that James notices the plates of pure, stand alone pastry and his eyes fall out. Well, almost.
After a period of stunned silence, James chokes out, âThank you. Erm ... are you looking for a new master? Would you like to work in my kitchen and do this for a living?â I snort with laughter and grin to myself. Poor James is a bit of an idiot sometimes.
âNo, thank you, sir, Dooky is very happy where he is.â The house-elf â“ Dooky â“ bows again.
âEr â“ all right. Thanks, Dooky. Youâre a star. Youâre wasted in this desolate place. If ever you feel like a change, come to the Potter Household, yeah?â
Dooky bows again and with another crack, he is gone.
âI love this school,â James breaths. And then he dives in. Soon, Peter and Sirius have joined him. And eventually I begin to feast a little myself.
And so passes the final night of our fifth year, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
AN: Heh heh. Donât worry â“ Jamesâs pastry fetish in no way mimics my own. At least, not much. And I know, I know. Boys can be such jerks. Theyâre about 16 at this point, after all. Of course, not all of them are like that, but ... okay, never mind. Who picked up the obscure Ravenclaw reference? Please leave a review!