Saturday 15th September 1972
“Pack your cloak, James.”
“Why?”
“You never know, do you?”
“Fine, but I doubt we’ll want it.”
“Don’t forget you owe me a galleon on that bet we had.”
“I haven’t,” James returned, patiently, “Just relax for a minute, will you?”
“Never.” Sirius grinned back, “You do realise that this is the most excitement I’ve had in months? I wasn’t even allowed to go to Diagon Alley this summer.”
“You had more going on than I did,” James replied, resentfully, “You at least had all that betrothal drama. My family’s so boring.”
“Shut up, Potter, your family’s amazing and you know it. I definitely had the worst summer.”
“I had a great time in France.” Peter piped up, but no one paid him much attention.
“What about you, Moony?” James asked, as they wended their way down the stairs into the common room. A gang of excited third years was waiting, ready for their first trip to the village. They were watched over with a fond sort of nostalgia by the older students.
“What about me?” Remus asked, pushing away flashbacks to the summer, the memory of wriggling through a tiny bathroom window and landing hard on his knees on the tile below.
“How was your summer? You haven’t told us anything.”
“Nothing to tell.” Remus said. “More boring than both of yours – no magic. I just read.”
“Well you’re all coming to mine for Christmas.” James said, cheerfully. They began to file out of the common room and head towards the front entrance. “Same as last year, yeah? Moon’s on the tenth of December, so we don’t even have to worry about that.”
Remus gaped,
“How do you know when it is?” He hadn’t even looked that far ahead yet.
“Told you, we were bored other the summer,” Sirius elbowed him, “We looked it up, for the next few years.”
“But… why?!” Remus was torn between feeling very touched, and somewhat violated. It wasn’t for them to worry about. It was his own private problem, and always had been.
“It’s like quidditch.” James said – whenever anything was important to him he compared it to quidditch -- “You’ve got to know your team’s weaknesses in order to work to their strengths.”
“If you say so.” Remus replied, glumly, not wanting to talk about it much more. He had hoped that once they knew about his condition there would be no more researching it behind his back. That they could all just get on with things in the way he preferred – which was to ignore the problem completely.
The trouble was, nothing was private when it came to James and Sirius – your whole life was up for grabs. Remus still wasn’t used to this – as hard as he tried to keep up, there were just some things he would never want to share. It was all very well if you were James, and had open parents who talked to you and listened to you in return. Or Sirius, who was so outgoing and almost entirely shameless.
“Look who it is,” Sirius nudged James, pointing at a dark figure waiting in the archway entrance. Lily pushed past the marauders and went to meet him. Snape.
“Why are they even friends?!” James ran his hands through his hair distractedly.
“They grew up in the same town,” Remus said, as they carried on, watching the couple ahead, talking animatedly; one red head, one black.
“How’d you know?” James rounded on him, looking affronted.
“She told me.”
“You fancy her, then?” James asked, clearly struggling to know how to react. Remus rolled his eyes,
“No. We just chat.” he said, firmly. “And if you fancy her, then you might want to try it.”
He’d noticed this sort of talk creeping into their conversations lately. Sometimes he had to double check he was talking to the marauders and not Marlene and Mary – ‘he fancies her’, ‘she fancies so-and-so,’ – and on and on. To make matters worse, Avni Chaudhry, a Gryffindor third year, was now going out with Ravenclaw fourth year Matthew Studt, and no one had talked about anything else for days; everyone seemed to have an opinion on it. It was mind numbingly boring stuff to Remus, for whom (aside from a few exceptions) girls were still generally incomprehensible.
“She likes you, though.” James said. “You did all your revision together last term.”
“Only because you lot couldn’t be arsed,” Remus replied defensively. They were approaching the town now, a cluster of pretty stone buildings sat just below them. “And it’s not like we were alone, Mary and Marlene were there too.”
“We all need to take notes from Moony,” Sirius teased, “Birds follow him everywhere. How’d you do it, Lupin? Those big brown eyes of yours?”
James and Peter snickered, but Remus ignored him, walking a little bit ahead, hands in his pockets, still limping slightly from his last transformation. That was an utterly ridiculous suggestion, especially when it was obvious to anyone with eyes that Sirius was the best-looking boy in the year.
It was clearer than ever, now that they were all getting taller, growing from childhood into adolescence. James had a certain amount of swagger; that came with wealth and skill on the quidditch pitch, but Sirius was always going to be in another league entirely. Remus hadn’t decided whether to be jealous about it or not, and tried not to think about it too much.
When they finally reached Hogsmeade, Remus could not be more relieved. The village looked like the sort of place Remus had previously thought only existed in children’s books. The cobbled streets gleamed in the yellow mid-September sunshine, and the higgledy-piggledy rows of black beamed Tudor cottages might as well have been made of gingerbread and spun sugar.
“Honeyduke’s?” James said.
“Honeyduke’s.” The others responded, in unison.
Remus had never entered the sweet shop through the front door before, nor had he ever been on the shop floor. It was packed to the rafters with boxes, jars and bags of every kind of confection imaginable. Great trees of brightly coloured lollipops, as large as pinwheels, slabs of chocolate the size of paving stones; piles and piles of glittering sugar mice. 
The shop was also packed with Hogwarts students, and the marauders had to push and squeeze to even get close to the goods. They filled their basket with enough sweets to last them until Christmas, at least, before queuing for the till, manned by a very harassed looking wizard with white hair. Remus realised that this was probably Mr Honeyduke, and wondered whether the shopkeeper knew there was a secret tunnel in his cellar.
After that, their next stop was Zonko’s, the joke shop, which was just as busy as Honeyduke’s, and one of the noisiest places Remus had ever been. Every few seconds something seemed to explode, pop, or start whistling somewhere in the shop, accompanied by the delighted laughter or horrified shrieks of students. James and Sirius were clearly old hands at practical joke shopping, and made an efficient sweep of the premises, weighing up the benefits and downsides of each contraption like a pair of bankers at the stock exchange. Half an hour later and they were finally leaving, weighted down with bags full of dungbombs, trick wands, exploding inkwells, hiccup sweets and bars of frog spawn soap. 
Remus thought they had perhaps been a little short-sighted doing all their shopping first, because next James and Sirius wanted to visit the Shrieking Shack, which meant leaving the main high street and facing an uphill climb, goods in tow.
“So, what is this place, again?” Remus huffed as he struggled up the hill, his knee and hip still bothering him.
“Haunted house,” James replied, taking two of Remus’s heaviest shopping bags from him without a word. “Most haunted place in Britain, dad says.”
“It’s not haunted!” Sirius called from up ahead, “You Potters are just superstitious.”
“I heard that the ghosts there are really nasty,” Peter said, anxiously, struggling almost as much as Remus was with the steep incline. “Worse than Peeves.”
“Are they poltergeists, then?” Remus asked, curious – he’d been planning to do some reading about spirituous apparitions when he got the chance, after learning that it had been his father’s main area of study.
“Think so,” James said, “The locals say they hear screaming coming from the house some nights.”
“Only for a few years, though,” Sirius countered, “Poltergeists don’t just move in at a moment’s notice. There would have to be decades and decades of disturbance and negative energy building up to—”
“Oh my god.”
Lupin stopped still and almost dropped the bags he was still holding. He had looked up at the house for the first time, and a cold chill struck the pit of his stomach.
“What’s up Moony? Want me to take your other bags?” James was asking.
Remus shook his head, speechless, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He’d never seen it from the outside before; they always came through the tunnel. But he knew the shade of the wood, he knew what the boarded windows looked like.
“Bloody hell, if it is haunted, then I think Moony’s been possessed.” Sirius said, sounding like he was only half-joking. “Oi, Lupin. You’re being weird, stop it.”
“That’s…” Remus struggled to find the words. He closed his eyes and tried to take a few breaths. “That’s the house. Where they put me.”
James seemed to understand at once, and put a hand on Remus’s shoulder in a brotherly sort of way.
“Ok, c’mon, it’s time to go.” He said.
No one said anything as they began to trudge back downhill, towards the town. Remus looked at the ground ahead the whole time, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and getting as far away from the shack as he could. The Shrieking Shack. Shrieking. He felt sick. James steered them in the direction of a quaint looking pub. Inside there were lots of tables and comfortable chairs, not a far cry from the Gryffindor common room. They found seats in a quiet corner, and Remus sat, gratefully, his joints very sore now. James went to the bar, and Sirius and Peter sat quietly either side of Remus.
“So… on the full moon, that’s where you go?” Peter asked. Remus nodded, fiddling with a damp beer mat on the table. “It’s not haunted, then?” Peter continued.
“Nope. Just me.”
“So, wait, the shrieking is…”
“Me.”
“But why—”
“Shut up, Pettigrew.” Sirius snarled, suddenly. Remus looked at him, taken aback.
James returned with four bottles of amber liquid and set them down, taking his own seat.
“Butterbeer!” He said, brightly, pushing one towards Remus, “Try it, Moony, you’ll love it.”
Remus raised the glass to his lips. He was still feeling a bit queasy, and the concoction in the bottle smelled very syrupy – but he found that sweet things usually helped if he’d had a shock. He took a sip, and felt instantly warmed by the delicious liquid. He smiled at James, hoping they wouldn’t ask any more questions.
They didn’t. Instead they spent a very pleasant afternoon drinking butterbeer and planning how best to utilise their new practical joke arsenal. Peter had the unusually brilliant idea of casting a remote timer spell on the dungbombs, so that they could be triggered at anytime from anywhere in the castle.
“Excellent diversionary tactic,” James exclaimed, excited, “Think of what we could get away with if Filch was chasing dung bombs on the opposite side of the building!”
“Give us time to work on the map a bit more, too.” Remus added.
“You’re not seeing the big picture.” Sirius folded his arms, leaning back on his chair. “We could set them all to go off at the same time. Imagine! We’ve probably got enough here to hide one in every classroom – total chaos!” Sirius looked so enraptured when he said this, that the other three were completely taken in, nodding furiously.
“Oh, let’s not sit here, Lily, it doesn’t look very clean.” A nasty, bitter voice interrupted them, “They allow in all sorts, clearly.”
Sirius snapped forward on his chair, glaring at Snape, who was hovering next to a nearby table.
“Don’t be silly, Sev, it’s fine.” Lily shook her head, pulling out a seat.
“Alright, Evans?” James waved at her, compulsively, getting that stupid look on his face.
“Leave us alone, will you, Potter?” Lily tossed her hair, “Hiya, Remus.”
“Hi,” he waved at her, grinning. He couldn’t help enjoying the way she treated the marauders, she was the only one who didn’t fawn over them.
“Eurgh,” Sirius said, holding his nose, looking at Snape, “What is that smell? Potter, did you trail something in on your shoe?”
James sniggered,
“Smells more like a dung bomb’s gone off.”
“Disgusting,” Sirius smirked, “Maybe we should open a window.”
Snape had gone white with rage. Lily put a hand on his arm,
“Just ignore them, Sev, they’re idiots.”
But Severus would not let Sirius have the last word.
“How’s the family, Black?” He asked, his voice wheedling, insidious. Sirius’s mouth formed a hard line. Snape continued, “Regulus was telling everyone you had quite an exciting summer. So exciting, in fact, that you’re no longer welcome back, hm?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Snivellus.” Sirius spat. Remus knew that it was too late now – Sirius had engaged, and there would be no going back.
“Don’t I?” Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly thrilled at the reaction he had elicited. “Had any post from mummy this year, Black? Heard anything at all from any of your relatives?”
Sirius had a very odd look on his face. Remus had the impression that he was realising something for the first time, and trying not to let Severus see it. James looked concerned, no longer laughing.
“Ignore him, mate,” he said, quietly, “He’s a prick, ignore him.”
“I’m right, then,” Severus’s thin lips curved into a nasty smile, “No wonder you follow Potter around like a lovesick girl, when your own family don’t want anything to do with you. When you’ve been disowned like that, I suppose all that’s left is to associate with the dregs of society…” He cast his black-eyed gaze over Peter and Remus.
Sirius stood up, knocking his chair back. His wand was in his hand; he must have reached for it while Snape was talking. Remus stood too, his aching bones forgotten as he clenched his fists, ready to beat Severus senseless, if Sirius gave the word.
“Sirius, don’t!” James went to snatch his wand away – they weren’t allowed to perform magic in Hogsmeade.
“C’mon, Severus, let’s go,” Lily had stood up too and was tugging her friend’s sleeve. She looked furious with him, which was a small comfort to Remus.
“No.” Sirius said, his voice unnervingly steady and authoritative. “We’re leaving. C’mon, lads, I can’t take this stench much longer.”
They did as ordered, even James, who only threw one longing look back at Lily on their way out.
“That was… really mature,” Potter said, scratching his head as they stepped out of the pub into the warm evening light. Sirius snorted, starting off back to Hogwarts.
“It’s not over.” He said, fiercely, the others jogging to catch up with his purposeful strides. “I’ll show him. I’ll bloody destroy him!”
The marauders were at war.