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7th year was proving a bit more slippery than the last six.
On the surface, everything was going to plan. They were the kings of the school, or at least Sirius and James were, Remus and Peter buoyed by association. They had the cloak, they had the map, they had an undeniable reputation for mischief. Sirius had the unrivaled distinction of being the only student of independent means. James was Gryffindor's champion Quidditch captain yet again, and had defied the odds to become Head Boy. The term ahead of them ought to have been bright.
Well over a month had passed and Sirius still didn't quite have his feet under him. What ought to have been their year, the big men on campus, was instead stolen by a shadow on the periphery, blooming bigger as the hushed voices of worried students refused to say something so simple as a name. Sirius had worked hard over the summer months to repair the fraying thread between himself and his friends, had been more diligent and modest than perhaps ever in his nearly eighteen years with 7th year looming large and glorious in his imagination. 7th year, which was shaping up to be filled with unsettling headlines and an ever-growing divide in the student body. Turns out it wasn't their year after all. It was Voldemort's.
Presently, though, they were laughing about Peter. Or, James and Sirius were, with Remus doing a poor job of masking his pained expression with pity. Muggle Studies had seemed an easy class, easy enough even for Peter, sheltered and perpetually nervous about things he didn't understand. Remus was half-Muggle, and Sirius loved Muggles, talked about their music and fashion and charming innovations with enthusiasm. Too much enthusiasm, as it turned out, as despite Remus' painstaking efforts in helping Peter with his coursework, Peter had still written an entire parchment enthusiastically expounding on the similarities between Muggle and Wizarding modes of transportation. Muggle automotives, he reasoned, could fly just like brooms. Why, his friend Sirius had bought a flying motorbike just this past summer. Peter had even been allowed a ride, had thought it rather loud but better-suited to long journeys. He was currently sitting downstairs with his infinitely patient Muggle Studies professor, rewriting the entire page.
"He must've been so excited to actually know about something he didn't listen to a word you said," Sirius said, looking back to Remus over his shoulder as they bustled upstairs to their dorm.
On the surface, everything was going to plan. They were the kings of the school, or at least Sirius and James were, Remus and Peter buoyed by association. They had the cloak, they had the map, they had an undeniable reputation for mischief. Sirius had the unrivaled distinction of being the only student of independent means. James was Gryffindor's champion Quidditch captain yet again, and had defied the odds to become Head Boy. The term ahead of them ought to have been bright.
Well over a month had passed and Sirius still didn't quite have his feet under him. What ought to have been their year, the big men on campus, was instead stolen by a shadow on the periphery, blooming bigger as the hushed voices of worried students refused to say something so simple as a name. Sirius had worked hard over the summer months to repair the fraying thread between himself and his friends, had been more diligent and modest than perhaps ever in his nearly eighteen years with 7th year looming large and glorious in his imagination. 7th year, which was shaping up to be filled with unsettling headlines and an ever-growing divide in the student body. Turns out it wasn't their year after all. It was Voldemort's.
Presently, though, they were laughing about Peter. Or, James and Sirius were, with Remus doing a poor job of masking his pained expression with pity. Muggle Studies had seemed an easy class, easy enough even for Peter, sheltered and perpetually nervous about things he didn't understand. Remus was half-Muggle, and Sirius loved Muggles, talked about their music and fashion and charming innovations with enthusiasm. Too much enthusiasm, as it turned out, as despite Remus' painstaking efforts in helping Peter with his coursework, Peter had still written an entire parchment enthusiastically expounding on the similarities between Muggle and Wizarding modes of transportation. Muggle automotives, he reasoned, could fly just like brooms. Why, his friend Sirius had bought a flying motorbike just this past summer. Peter had even been allowed a ride, had thought it rather loud but better-suited to long journeys. He was currently sitting downstairs with his infinitely patient Muggle Studies professor, rewriting the entire page.
"He must've been so excited to actually know about something he didn't listen to a word you said," Sirius said, looking back to Remus over his shoulder as they bustled upstairs to their dorm.
