The House of Wolves

The cozy Gryffindor room, with the cheerful fire throwing warm glows on happily chatting students in plush armchairs, was one of sanctuary; where a haggard student could rest after a long day's sleeping in various classrooms, their own snores waking them up just briefly enough to jot down a few notes before falling asleep again.

It was also the perfect plotting place. Peter was relaxed in the oversized chair, not really realizing that he was slowly sinking into it. This particular chair had somewhat of an infamous reputation for swallowing students whole and spitting them back out covered in stuffing fluff. The other Marauders didn't bother to tell him—he'd figure it out soon enough.

The three in mention had their heads bowed over a piece of parchment, whispering. Occasionally snatches of conversation like "No, no, he's only mildly allergic to that—let's try lobsters" and "Speaking of flea collars, Remus—ow!" would drift across to the other students poring over textbooks. They would look up, sigh, and wish that it was them. Peter was content to wallow in his chair—although it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep posture; what a strange feeling—and listen. He couldn't always follow them anyway.

James shook his head. "It won't work without a distraction."

Remus frowned, uneasy with the look James was suddenly giving him. "I'm not doing something like that again."

Sirius sniggered. "Really, Remus—no one knew you could play the ukulele and dance the hula like that. That one belly dancer girl even came up and told you how graceful that was, remember?"

"That was Professor Parka."

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. It worked, didn't it?"

Remus glanced at him, unsure of his sanity. "I'm not doing it."

"Doesn't matter," James said airily. "I've wanted to call my favor from Peeves for a while now. He owes me for the thing with the parrots."

Further discussion was cut as it was time for dinner; the students in the common room filed out of the portrait hole. James and Sirius winked simultaneously at the Fat Lady as they exited, causing her to blush and fervently smooth her dress.

"She's a bit old for you, isn't she?" Peter commented. The two didn't answer, but merely grinned and shrugged nonchalantly. James reached a hand up to his hair and scrubbed it, making the hair stand on end more than ever. Peter looked enviously at him. James and Sirius always seemed to be in the spotlight, and everyone knew it—girls stared admiringly, boys wanted to be in their inner circle.

The Great Hall was as bright as ever, with the thousands of candles suspended motionless in the air—a real fire hazard, Peter had thought, if they ever fell—under a still light sky. They all sat down at their usual seats and grabbed anything within reach, Sirius especially—he hadn't been able to eat that morning, what with their latest experiment of voice modifying. They had successfully changed his voice to sound exactly like Bolly Berkin's nasal whine, but had somehow managed to shrink his stomach, along with his ears.

The Marauders chatted among themselves, occasionally holding conversations with whoever was fortunate enough to be within speaking range of them. Most of it, this time, was further congratulations in regards to James, who had assisted the Gryffindor team in slaughtering the Slytherins the previous Saturday.

Remus, with some interest, noted that James was not responding to the compliments with his usual enthusiasm. Instead, he was eating edgily, sneaking moody looks across the table. Remus turned slightly and saw that James was looking at a boy from the Ravenclaw table; who he recognized but didn't know the name of. The boy was leaning in to talk among his friends, but more like he was whispering in class than talking freely at lunch. Every so often the boy would turn and shoot a glance over at where the Marauders sat. Remus turned to James.

"Friend of yours?" he asked lightly.

James frowned and stirred his mashed potatoes. "He wishes."

All through dinner, the boy—and then the group included—continued their unnerving gait, whispering and then staring pointedly at James. He slunk lower in his seat and became increasingly irritable. It was only until after dinner ended—and James had made a rude gesture with his hands at the offending boys—that he lightened up and went back to his old self. He and Sirius were happily plotting away, still intent on using Remus' ukulele abilities for a distraction. After a bit, the poor boy decided he was too tired to argue and just sat back watching (carefully avoiding the Eating Chair). Sometimes Blotter (as sometimes Black and Potter were called, seeing as they were nearly inseparable) were more entertaining than a book.

"Professor Parka winked at you during dinner, Moonshine," Sirius announced to him. "I think that's why she's been caking on the lipstick lately. We'll have to check your collar every night, now." James nodded solemnly.

"We must protect you from corruption," he said gravely. "We're the only bad influences you're allowed to have."

"Speaking of bad influences," Sirius mused thoughtfully, "I think Peeves has been trying to outdo us. The first-year snotrags are more frightened of him than they are us."

James looked indignant. "We can't have that. Tomorrow, we terrorize."

"Agreed."

Remus thought briefly about arguing, but then decided against it, as he figured that the approaching redhead would be more than willing to do it for him. Lily Evans marched up, dark red hair tossed over her shoulder. "You are not going to bludgeon first-years," she snapped.