Obsidian & Bronze {Fred Weasley}

33. Prongs and Padfoot

4th February 1978

I tried so desperately to use every opportunity I was presented with to illustrate the superior qualities both Sirius and James possessed to everyone around us. And each time I began to highlight their more noble and pragmatic attributes, they would do an utterly extraordinary job of going out of their way to do something that would prove me wrong.

As though the universe did not allow them to be sensible and collected in the presence of anyone that stretched beyond Peter, Lily or I, and therefore to the outside world, those people privileged enough to have not been tied down by James and Sirius's idiocy, it seemed as though I was just as much a fool as they were, for I put up with their bullshit.

And when it came to the notion of practical jokes it was no different, the only contrast being the fact that every single time, without fail, I would not only be left to pick up their pieces, but somehow was also roped into making the mess.

Yes, it was evident very early on that there was no escaping the stupidity and havoc inflicted by the double act that was Prongs and Padfoot.

Since first year we had all simply been brushing it off, as though their tendency to create mischief and their flare for foolishness was just a part of their character, but sure enough, after countless examples of their childish misconduct, they would cross the line, just that little but to far, and venture into territory there was no backing away from.

There have been very few occasions in my life in which I did not have to intervene in their behaviour, or repair the undeniable aftermath of wreckage, however one of these rarities still remains ultimately prominent in my mind.

"What are you children whispering about?" I asked with extreme caution as I entered our dormitory, to find James and Sirius huddled together on Peter's bed, considering Peter was in an extra study session for the evening, seemingly scheming something I most certainly did not want to be a part of.

"Nothing!" They both exclaimed in unison, grabbing the sheets of parchment scattered around them at the sight of my entrance and tucking them neatly behind themselves as though I hadn't already seen them.

"Doesn't look like nothing" I queried, apprehension laced in my tone, but I chose not to dwell as I grabbed a jumper that was draped over Sirius's pillow and headed back out the door again, but not before calling, "I'm heading back to the library to finish to studying before the full moon tonight. I'll meet you guys out by the Willow later"

And that look that flashed equally across their angular features was one I'll never be able to alleviate my mind of, a sinister concoction of guilt and exhilaration, balanced carelessly with apprehension and deviance.

I did exactly as I said, trudging back to the library, my eyes half masked and heavy as the weight of the day threatened sleep at any moment, my hands calloused and sore and countless splotches of royal blue ink trailing across my skin.

The night crept in with slightly fuller force than its usual gradual entrance, the honey hues of glistening amber that the sun still clung to in the fleeting winter, melting into a hazy blue canvas of which minuscule beams of opal lights would begin to break through, illuminating the vast vacuum.

And then of course there was that moon, that fucking moon. It's iridescent light was almost mocking, and I couldn't help but deny its strange and ridiculing beauty as it began to reveal itself in the centre of the deep scene above, a stage in which its attention was undivided, as though it deserved that kind of notice.

I stood outside the Whomping Willow, the biting cold numbing and raw as it tore as the exposed skin of my hands and face, staring off toward the castle as I waited for the others, the moon continuing to reveal itself behind me.