The Marauders (a HP fanfiction)

Chapter five

October 8, 1971

The marks on Remus's face were barely visible now. He claimed that he had scratched himself during the night.

"Well, I'm just glad you're feeling better," James said to Remus as they, and the rest of the school, were eating breaking in the Great Hall before their first class.

"Yeah, me too," Remus agreed.

"How long to you reckon that Whomping Willow's been here for?" Sirius asked out of he blue.

He didn't know really why he had asked it, but he had been wondering everything since he had spotted it the day of their Flying Lessons.

"Wouldn't know," Remus quickly replied, making Sirius, James, and Peter look at him with confused faces.

Remus shoved a piece of toast into his mouth and tried to avoid his friend's gazes. He wasn't about to tell them he knew exactly the reason why the Whomping Willow was there, and that that reason was him.

"Come on, we need to get to Transfiguration," Sirius said, deciding it best not to question Remus.

When they got into the class, they noticed a box of matches on each of their desk. James and Sirius looked over at each other and gave mischievous smiles.

They wiped the looks off their faces when Professor McGonagall cleared her throat as the class sat down and said, "Today, you'll be trying to change the matches that are on your desks into needles."

After a few times, James was the first to complete the task.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Five point for Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall declared, and there was a collective groan from the Hufflepuffs that shared the class with the Gryffindors.

Sirius leaned into James and whispered in his ear, "Way to go, James."

"Thanks," he said with a smile as he glanced up to see if Professor McGonagall was watching them. Deep inside, James was really proud of himself, and he didn't want the points taken away from his House.

When Sirius tried again, his eyes grew as the match on his table turned into a needle.

"Brilliant," James smiled in approval.

The four boys stopped outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom after class that day, Peter with his head down, Remus looking at the piece of parchment in his hand with a smile.

"How do you do it?" Peter asked in a whining voice.

Remus looked over at Peter, knowing it was him Peter was referring to.

"Do what?" he asked.

"You just got perfect marks on out Defense Against the Dark Arts essay," Peter said, pointing at the parchment in Remus's hand with envy.

"It's called studying," Remus replied, though he didn't mean to sound rude about it as Sirius and James snickered a little.

"Yeah, well, even when I do study, I'm not good at anything," Peter said with a sigh.

He was surprised when Sirius walked up to him as they began walking and put a hand on his shoulder.

"There has to be something you're good at," he said.

Sirius hardly ever admitted it, but he believed in that saying that everyone is good at something, mostly because it was the one his parents hated the most. They believed that all Muggles, Half-bloods and Muggle-borns were nothing but filth.

"No, not really," Peter admitted, letting his head fall again.

"Let's get to the Great Hall," Remus said, not wanting to hear about the subject any longer.