Bless the Beasts and the Children - 13. Chapter 13

Later never came. Just because I’m that good, and because I know how to redirect Remus’s attention from things I’d rather he not think about. I walked Remus to his Arithmancy class, both for the pleasure of his company and to make sure nothing untoward would keep him from his appointment with ennui. I started to kiss him good-bye, somewhat absentmindedly, for the moment forgetting where we were, but Remus had the presence of mind to duck back. He shot me a look of warning before darting into the classroom, just behind Frank Longbottom. What had I even been thinking? I shook my head to try to clear it, so I could focus on the task at hand, which was not kissing Remus Lupin in public.

“Pretty blush,” Evans commented saucily as she walked past me, and only then was I aware of just how heated my cheeks had become. I turned without scathing comment—for once— and escaped before the tendrils of tedium could ensnare me. I’d endured enough Arithmancy for one lifetime and had no intention of absorbing any more.

Recovering my usual aplomb, I hastened my steps. We didn’t have all the time in the world and quite the Herculean task. Peter was my friend, and a fellow Marauder, but sometimes he was a bit slow to catch on to things, and this was one of those times, sadly.

They were waiting for me in our dorm room, Peter slumped on his bed, looking particularly disconsolate, like someone had just told him his favorite dish, whatever that might be, had just gone off the menu. James was pacing from one side of the room to the other and shot me a look as I entered. Peter’s chin sank lower on his chest, if possible, and I thought I heard a groan of despair emanate from his direction.

“Before you say anything”—I held up my hand to ward off any of Mr. Potter’s scathing remarks on the subject of punctuality, which was certainly the pot calling the kettle black—“we don’t have much time, so let’s get to it.”

James took a breath, as if debating something with himself, then nodded. “Yes, let’s.” He cast what I took to be a commiserating glance at Peter.

“Ready, Pete?” he asked in a much softer voice than I would have used, but I wasn’t about to quibble. I had a tendency to lose patience with Peter, which was why James was giving him one-on-one instruction, and not me.

Peter raised his head timidly and looked between the two of us. “You go first?” he suggested.

“Sirius?” James asked.

Oh for the love of…. “Sure, why not?”I muttered. I knew I could do it, that wasn’t the problem. “I’ll go.” James nodded his thanks as I began to focus on the task at hand.

I knew the spells pretty well—I’d practiced them often enough. And I knew how to draw on the energy inside of me to enable me to make the transformation. The more I did it, the faster it became, more natural to me.

So it was mere seconds later that I turned into the big black dog which they’d nicknamed Padfoot, on account of his thick paw pads. I barked enthusiastically, forgetting the need for secrecy.

“Good thing for you I already set silencing spells,” James admonished me, “or you’d have given us away.”

Unperturbed by his words—I’d expected no less from him, of course—I bounded toward him. He swerved sharply to avoid me, but only managed to tumble onto his bed. I leap up after him, licking his face. James threw up his hands in protest, but he was laughing too much for me to mistake him as angry. After I’d thoroughly drooled over James, I turned to Peter, who was laughing now too, and had taken up a position behind his bed in a pre-emptive defensive move.

James pushed me off of him, and pointed toward the floor. “Sit boy, sit,” he intoned, as if he were talking to an actual canine. I cocked my head and gave him a are you kidding look.

Disdaining to follow his command, I trotted back to my bed and transfigured back to myself. Both James and Peter applauded my performance, which was brilliant, if I did say so myself.

James should have gone next, but it suddenly occurred to me we hadn’t chosen the best venue for this occasion, as Potter’s stag is not exactly what you call small. Graceful, sure, surprisingly so. I took mental measurements of the spot he stood in, trying to remember just how large the stag was.

“I’ll make it quick,” he promised, as if reading my mind. “Next time we’ll go somewhere else. Assuming we need a next time.”

Somehow, I thought we would but I kept my negative thoughts to myself. At least until I’d been proven correct.

James was true to his word. He transformed into the impressive stag, pawed the ground for just a moment, to show us something, I’m not sure what, then changed back.

“Nicely done,” I complimented him. But then again, he wasn’t the problem. I turned expectant eyes toward Peter, who looked decidedly unhappy again.

“Go on, Pete,” James urged him. “Show Sirius what we’ve been practicing.”

“I’ll try,” he promised, “but please don’t yell at me, okay?” That was directed at me, but before I had a chance to grow indignant, James responded.

“Sirius won’t yell, will you?”

I started to protest that I certainly would if it was necessary, but changed tactics instead as James’ eyes bored into mine purposefully. “I won’t yell,” I promised, not sure if I could keep my word or not, but I’d try.

“Okay, then, here goes.” Peter closed his eyes, probably to focus, his lips moving almost silently. I could hear him, but couldn’t understand a single word. For a moment, I thought I saw his body begin to flicker, and I was hopeful that maybe, just maybe, James had gotten the mechanics of transfiguration into Peter’s somewhat thick skull. But the next moment, that illusion was shattered when nothing happened.

We didn’t speak, afraid to break his concentration, such as it was. But one minute became two, then three, then five. I knew then it wasn’t going to happen.

“I’ll work with him some more. He’s closer than ever,” James said.

I didn’t make a reply, too disgusted with the situation, and too mindful of how close the next full moon was.

“C’mon, Pete, let’s grab a snack,” James said. I knew his intention was to remove Peter from potential harm, and to give me space in which to cool down. He knows me pretty well.

Once they’d gone, I sat brooding on my bed. I didn’t care what happened, if Peter succeeded or not. Come hell or high water, I was going to be with Remus on the night of the full moon. Let no one doubt that for a moment.