The Rules We Pretend To Break

by Leevly

Summary:

Back at Hogwarts after the winter holidays, the Marauders are bracing for the promised vengeance of Barty Crouch Jr. When the prank finally lands, it leaves the Gryffindor boys hilariously confused.

What follows is a prank war of chaotic proportions, resulting in mischief that blurs the lines between houses, friendships and loyalties. Old rivalries give way to unexpected alliances, and the line between friend and foe may no longer be so clear.

James develops a budding friendship with Regulus, much to Sirius's dismay. Peter finds footing with his own pranking trio. And Remus, alongside Pandora and Lily, keeps quiet watch over everything starting to unfold.

This is the sequel to "Scribbled On Pages He Could No Longer Read", part of the "Collateral Mischief" series. It can technically be enjoyed as a standalone, but reading in order is recommended for full emotional and narrative continuity. There are spoilers and references to the plot of the first story.

Notes:

This story is actively in progress and will be updated regularly. The previous book of the series, 14 chapters total, was completed in just 10 days.

I don't expect to keep quite that pace this time, but I'll post as consistently as life allows. I'm aiming for at least weekly updates.

I am also working on one other fic at this time, a Jegulus and Wolfstar centric fic called The Brothers Astral. So feel free to check it out as well! :)

I do not support JK Rowling or her views in any way. I just love my dead gay wizards from the 70s.

Chapter 1: Parlour Dragons

January 10th, 1978

It wasn’t the sort of revenge he’d been bracing for.
Which made the whole day all the more confusing.

For the past two months, ever since Barty Crouch Jr. had warned the Marauders of a “future plan for vengeance”, to reclaim Regulus’s honor, they’d expected a hex any moment. The anticipation had become a torment in itself, and knowing Barty, they anticipated vengeance in the form of something painful, or at least terribly threatening.

Instead, Remus woke to find that it was neither painful nor terribly threatening… More so, incredibly, utterly confusing.

Remus had stretched awake, the dormitory cold enough that he could see his breath. The window had accidentally been left open overnight. James was already upright, rubbing his arms, headed to close it.

“Il gèle…–” James muttered, then stopped. “Qu-est-ce que–?”

He whipped his head around to the other Marauders, his eyes wide with shock.

What the hell? James? French?

Remus blinked. Guess that made sense, James and Sirius did have those old family connections. Still, he’d never heard James speak French before.

“James,” Remus began, “Pourquoi parles-tu français?” (James, why are you speaking French?)

The words slipped out before he realized. He didn’t know French. He’d never studied it. But the words came out naturally, as though it was the only language he had ever known.

His jaw snapped shut. “Oh, mon Dieu.” (Oh my god.)

Peter had sat up now, fearfully testing his own voice. “Que se… passe-t-il?” His eyes widened.
Then louder, more panicked: “Non… non, non!”

 

Remus immediately turned to shake Sirius awake. This was an emergency.

“Sirius!” Even his name came out with a French lilt. Sirius stirred, confused by the tone, but amused nonetheless.

“Bonjour, mon amour.” He teased, voice fluent and smooth.

Remus blinked. “Euh, Sirius… il s’est passé quelque chose.” (Uh, Sirius... Something happened.)

That wiped the grin off Sirius’s face. He froze, then tested his own voice.
“Quoi? Qu–” His head tilted. “Quoi!?”

He glanced between them all. “Quand tout le monde a-t-il appris le français?”

Remus stared, he caught maybe two words. “Absolument aucune idée de ce que tu dis. Désolé, mon amour,” (Absolutely no idea what you're saying. Sorry, love.) He admitted helplessly.

If his thoughts weren’t still in English, he wouldn’t even know what he himself was saying.

Sirius’s expression shifted to something sly. “Mon Dieu… c’etait… Encore?”
Remus squinted. Encore. Again. He knew that one.

“Absolument aucune idée de ce que tu dis.” (Something has happened.) He repeated.

“...Mon amour.”

Huh? Oh, that’s right. He knew that too. His cheeks warmed.

“Mon amour,” (My love,) He echoed sheepishly, earning a quick kiss on the cheek.

From across the room, James threw up his hands.
“Arrêtez de faire l’amour! Pourquoi on parle tous français?!”

They continued in this fashion for several minutes, alternating “Quoi?” and a cacophony of other interrogatives until they’d almost given up speaking entirely. Remus was still trying to work out when they could’ve been cursed, when Sirius rolled his eyes, swung his legs out of bed, and stood up.

“J’ai faim.” He pointed at his stomach, “Allons chercher à manger.”

James blinked. “Quoi?” He was sounding like a broken record.

Sirius groaned, then launched into a list, gesturing towards the door as if that would help.

“Petit-déjeuner. Œufs, toasts, scones, bacon…” He mimed chewing. “Mangeons.”

That, at least, got them moving.

When they reached the Great Hall, Sirius immediately began a miniature French lesson, declaring each food in front of him.

He started by pointing to the eggs.

Eggs. Œufs.
Bacon. Bacon.
Sausage. Saucisse.
Tea. Thé.
Milk. Lait.

It took only a few tries before Remus realized that he could learn some words by attempting to say them in English, and listening to the French output that tumbled out. Not ideal, but workable.

Across the hall, he spotted Barty lounging at the Slytherin table, watching their every exchange with keen interest. Next to him, Pandora was propped on her elbows, chin in her hands, grinning like it was the best show she’d ever seen. Evan leaned back, smirking whenever one of them looked confused. Regulus glanced over only in brief intervals, as if everything he had seen was beneath him.

“Since when did you lot speak French?” Mary called loudly from halfway down the Gryffindor table.

“Depuis ce matin,” (Since this morning,) Remus muttered, resigned.

Mary blinked. “What?”

Lily leaned over her seat. “What’s going on?”

Sirius answered in a smooth, unbroken stream of French.

“English, Black.”

“Non.”

Before Lily could press him, Sirius had pushed back from the table and sauntered across the hall, dropping into the seat beside Regulus without asking. He leaned in, speaking what could only be more French, and gestured vaguely towards the Gryffindor table.

Regulus didn’t look at him, but the corner of his mouth twisted in a faint smile before replying in the same measured French.

When Regulus looked back over at Gryffindor table, James hurled a string of French expletives across the room, complete with wild gesturing, much to Sirius’s delight.

Sirius returned to the table, an exasperated yet entertained look on his face.

“Qu’est-ce qu’il a dit?” (What did he say?) Remus started, “Laisse tomber.” (Nevermind.)
He realized his blunder in bothering to ask.

Sirius chuckled, then tried to explain just enough. He kept his voice as clear and slow as possible.

“Régulus a dit… que Barty…” a deliberate pause, “semblait inspiré par lui… après l’avoir entendu parler français l’autre jour.” He leaned in closer, “Quelque chose à propos de… ne rien comprendre.”

Remus had gathered, so far, something to do with Regulus, and Barty. Inspiration… and French? And then something about comprehension? No, it sounded negative. Misunderstanding?

 

Sirius continued. “Et… quelque chose sur transformer nous, les Gryffondors, en un groupe de demoiselles de Beauxbâtons.”

Remus blinked.

Meanwhile, James shot upright, like he’d understood more than enough.
“Beauxbâtons? Nous? Nous sommes demoiselles de Beauxbâtons??”

He looked like he was ready to hurl insults across the hall again.
“Je vais montrer les Beauxbâtons…” He grumbled, slamming down his cup.

Sirius laughed, “Ah, c’est parti.”

“Comptez vos jours, serpents! Je vous aurai! Et que vos potions explosent toutes dans vos visages!”

James was, in fact, ready to hurl more insults across the hall. He didn’t pause for breath, and unleashed a tirade.

Remus rested his chin in his hands, watching James flail and point like he was about to hex the entire Slytherin table into next week using French vocabulary.

“Vous… vous sales basilics de pacotille! Bande d’acromentules prétentieuses! Têtes de strangulots! Tous autant que vous êtes! Niffleurs voleurs de cervelles! Dragons de salon… ouais, j’suis sérieux! Et vous êtes même pas des sorciers, juste des crapauds sans baguette!”

He jabbed a finger at each Slytherin as if casting a curse. Remus didn’t know quite what he was saying, but was confident that James was getting creative in his outcry. He caught something about basilisks, dragons, and… baguettes?

“Attendez un peu, serpents! On n’a pas fini, nous! Même un gnome ferait mieux que vous!” James spat the last words, then folded his arms and returned to his breakfast as if nothing had happened.

By the end of it, Pandora had collapsed sideways against Barty in a fit of laughter. Barty himself was wiping tears from his eyes, Evan snickered, and even Regulus cracked a smile, as James managed to break his mask of indifference with sheer French stupidity.

This was it, apparently. Two months of tense anticipation, two months of imagining terrible hexes, harmful jinxes… And instead Barty Crouch Jr.’s grand act of vengeance had simply turned them into a gaggle of French-speaking ‘Beauxbâtons ladies’.

Honestly? Remus found it refreshing. Though he was desperately curious when this would eventually wear off, and wary that this was only the beginning. It was far too tame, he thought. Surely, this wasn’t it.

They made it through breakfast, then headed to their classes. History of Magic was a lecture heavy class that day, which they were hopeful meant less confused French, until they went to write notes.

As soon as Peter had started to scribble on his parchment, his notes on the “Soap Blizzard of 1378” had instantly rearranged into “Blizzard de savon de 1378”. He slammed his head on the parchment in frustration, accidentally leaving wet ink on his forehead. James snorted.

After that, they had Advanced Potions, shared with the Slytherins, which made for an interesting time. They had a lecture from Slughorn requiring them to write down the ingredients and techniques prior to brewing. Of course, Sirius was perfectly unbothered.

Remus’s brow was furrowed, staring at the notes he had written. They were preparing to brew an elixir to induce euphoria, and Slughorn had spoken far too fast, requiring him to lean on shorthand to catch it all. Now, he was utterly screwed over by his own shorthand, transcribed into French.

He turned his head to Sirius, and slid his notes to him with an expression of utter horror. Sirius practically barked a laugh, noticing the misspellings had been translated into French as well. At the very least, Lily had her notes written cleanly, and she shared them with Remus so he wouldn’t fumble their potionwork.

After class ended, the Slytherins quickly filed out. Pandora bumped shoulders with Remus before turning and giving him a cryptic smile, like she knew what was coming for them. She mouthed something that Remus was just barely able to make out. “Just wait.” She then went back to the others, twirling a porcupine quill from class in her glitter-stained fingers.

As the day continued, the marauders slowly regained their English vocabulary. Sirius mourned the death of Remus’s French accent, vowing to teach him French words of endearment in the future.

As the evening rolled by, they returned to the common room, and before heading up to their dorm, found four boxes sitting on a table by the hearth. Each one of them had their names addressed on a box, written in glittery green ink.

James was the first to inspect the boxes, finding the letter beside them. There was a wax seal with a rose stamped across it. He broke the seal, and opened the letter to see a small scrawl on the parchment. All that was written was “Love, Pandora.” in pretty cursive.

“Oh my god,” James muttered. “Pandora’s box.”

They all looked at the boxes then at each other warily.
Sirius opened his.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter cried. “Pandora’s box! Literally a box of evil! Bad idea!”

“And?” Sirius scoffed, “When has a bad idea stopped us before?”

He popped it open. Peter winced, then Sirius looked up disappointedly. He turned the box to show the inside to all of them. “It’s empty. Bugger all.”

James opened his next, and turned to show it was empty too. Peter warily opened his slowly, and shrugged. Remus was last. He quickly opened it, expecting if everyone else’s turned up empty he must have had something. Like a cursed game of chance. Nope. Empty.

“Maybe it’s a dud?” Peter offered. “Clearly, we’ve learned not all of Pandora’s experiments do what she plans.”

They all exchanged glances, shrugged, and continued towards the dorm. No one was convinced with that theory, but they were simply ready to relax and not require a French dictionary to understand each other.

“You’re saying this was all Regulus?” James raised his voice, surprised. “Better-than-you Regulus pulling a petty prank? Really?”

“Not fully,” Sirius chuckled. “Barty got inspired by him though. He had bigger plans, actually.” He explained, “Reg managed to tone him down. Can you believe it? He’s gone a little soft since last term, huh?” Sirius smirked.

“Seems like something theatrical Barty would do,” Remus added. “Just without the harm and all that. Was bloody confusing though. I could only parse a few words when I got lucky.”

 

“James,” Peter asked, “What in Godric’s name were you yelling at them earlier? It sounded angry, but poetic?”

James laughed. “Might as well get creative with vulgarities when it’s all going to come out sounding beautiful.”

Sirius shook his head. “Called them dirty basilisks and parlour dragons… Very beautiful indeed.”

“Heard you yell something about baguettes, too? What was that about?” Remus asked.

Instantly, Sirius cackled.

“No, mate. Said nothing to do with bread,” James chuckled, confused.

“Moony,” Sirius said, gasping, “Moony… That’s the word for wand.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Dead serious.”

Remus snorted. “God. That’s ridiculous.”

“Gotta admit,” James grinned. “That was a good one. Wish we’d done something like that to them first.”

Sirius stretched out across the end of his bed, arms behind his head.”We’re losing our touch. Used to be us handing out identity crises before breakfast.”

“Clearly this isn’t all they’ve got in store, either.” Remus said. “Dunno what’s meant by these Pandora’s boxes… but I’m hoping she’s not got something as crooked as that hexed fag for inspiration.”

James winced. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“If she does,” Sirius growled, “I’m personally hexing Barty into next week.”

“Barty? Not even Pandora, herself?”

“Nah. He’s the instigator. Him and his need for ‘reclaiming honor’.” Sirius said, the last words thick with a fancy pompous drawl.

Remus huffed a laugh, then stared for a moment at the empty boxes.

“Nothing like glittery boxes of uncertainty to keep us on our toes,” He murmured, “Wonder what she’s got planned.”

He fell quiet, thoughts circling. Today’s prank had been confusing, but not cruel. It was clearly shaped by Regulus’s influence. The boxes, though, were clearly labeled from Pandora. A tease. A warning for something incoming.

They all drifted towards bed, and Remus thought for a moment longer.

This was entertaining, it had been fun in a chaotic sort of way. But with this lot, their intensity had a tendency to spiral. Their fun never stayed harmless.

Regulus and Pandora, after all, were responsible for the hexed memory mishap.

If she’s got a prank brewing now, who’s to say that wouldn’t spiral too?

And they’d all opened up all the boxes. Was that the trigger?

Remus wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep. Not with the anxiety of ‘what if’s’ crowding his thoughts.

Pranks were easier when the person behind them hadn’t once designed a hex that scrambled your memory and accidentally turned you into a child.

Chapter 2: Second-Hand Sirius

January 11th, 1978

Remus stretched, eyes blinking against the new day. He turned and saw James was already up for the day.

“Morning,” Remus muttered.

“Oh thank god, a normal morning.” James yawned.

No French gibberish. He sighed in relief… Finally, some reprieve. Remus then yawned too and climbed out of bed. Sirius rolled over, eyes half-lidded, looking nowhere near ready to face the day, but entirely ready to greet Remus.

“What, not gonna whisper sweet nothings in French again?” Sirius quipped, pulling Remus back down towards the bed for a quick peck on the cheek.

James, halfway through pulling on his shirt, froze mid-motion and shook his head. Peter coughed abruptly. Remus flushed but didn’t pull away, leaning into Sirius without thinking. Oddly affectionate for this early in the morning, with the other two still in the room.

James cleared his throat, noticeably looking a little rattled.

“Something wrong?” Remus asked.

James blinked like he’d been caught in a daydream. “No, just…” He waved his hand, “You two are being very… sweet this morning.”

“Sweet?” Sirius grinned lazily, “What, no teasing the public display of affection?”

Peter looked over, ears red, and busied himself with packing his satchel. The two of them made quick work of getting ready, muttering that they’d see them at breakfast. Nothing seemed outwardly wrong, but something felt… off.

“The hell was that about?” Sirius asked.

Remus shrugged, matching the confusion. They finished getting dressed and headed for the Great Hall.

Awkward start aside, Remus felt good. Better, actually, than he had in a while. Confident. Apparently, it showed, because Sirius gave him a curious look.

“When did you get all cocky, huh?” He joked. “You’re strutting like you own the place.”

“Maybe I do own the place,” Remus shot back with a smug grin.

They arrived at the Great Hall to find James and Peter looking back to normal.

“Feeling better?” Remus asked, already reaching for the toast as he settled at the table.

“Yeah,” Peter replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dunno what that was about. Got all hot in the ears, like I needed fresh air.”

James hummed in agreement and smirked faintly as he leaned back in a way that looked… oddly familiar. Remus arched an eyebrow at this, thinking it strange but said nothing. They ate in relative peace, save for James idly tossing grapes into Peter’s goblet.

Halfway through breakfast, James nudged Remus. “You reckon those boxes were supposed to do something?”

“Well, speak of the devil…” Remus said, as his eyes made contact with Pandora, leisurely strolling over to the table.

“Pandora,” He began, “Those boxes, what were they supposed to do? Nothing’s happened.”

Her lips curled into a slow smile. “Nothing’s happened? Oh, it’s happened.” Her eyes glinted. “I can see it already.”

And with that, she plucked a piece of toast off Sirius’s plate without asking, wandering back to the Slytherin table.

“What the hell does that mean?” Peter asked.

“No clue,” James muttered, tossing another grape at Peter.

This one bounced off his shoulder, rebounding back onto the table. Peter flicked it back at him, with a sharp challenging smirk. Sirius snorted, clearly entertained.

Remus leaned in towards James, “Better aim than you usually have, mate.”

He felt incredibly smug, not in the usual way that banter would feel to him. Apparently, according to Pandora, something was already occurring. Remus couldn’t imagine what it would be unless she’d done some charm of good energy. He was feeling pretty good about everything at the moment.

In the hallway after breakfast, they headed down the corridor towards their first class. While passing by a cluster of Slytherins, Mulciber called out something sharp and ugly under his breath. Before Sirius could even turn, Peter had already started.

“You say that again, I’ll hex you so fast your great-grandmother will feel it.” His voice edged like a blade.

“Damn, Peter!” Sirius’s eyes were wide with surprise and delight. He gave a supportive clap of his back.

Mulciber scoffed, but James stepped forward next. “No point,” James said, smirking. “Not worth the flick of a wand, this tosser.” He looked like he was about to fake him out with a punch.

Even Remus felt the urge to join, “You should get to class, Mulciber. Don’t wanna fall behind in remedial arsehole studies.”

 

Sirius burst out laughing. “On a roll you guys, honestly.”

Remus felt oddly exhilarated, but also suddenly unsettled by this confidence that had befallen him.

—

“I’ve heard that people start to act like their partners,” Mary began. “But honestly,” She pointed her quill at all of them, in turn. “I don’t think this is what they meant.”

She had strolled over to their table during potions, after noticing some peculiarities in their group behavior. James snorted in response. Peter tried to look offended, but his mouth curved into a sly smirk. Remus rolled his eyes.

Then, Sirius said the damning words that triggered the realization.
“Can’t help it if I’m contagious.”

 

Remus leaned back, and put his fingers on the bridge of his nose.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake. That’s it.” He hissed. “I’m gonna have Pandora’s head. She’s taking the mickey on us.” He could feel the quick welling of anger, for being played like they did.

James tilted his head. “So, what is it then?”

“Have you noticed we haven’t been acting quite ourselves?” Remus started. Sirius shrugged.

“Not you,” He continued, pointing a stern look at Sirius. “Everyone but Sirius, actually.”

They looked at each other.

“It’s all Sirius.” He pointed a finger at him. “All of this, we’re acting like him. Feeling his feelings.”

Sirius looked shocked, then laughed. “No wonder you’ve all been so charming today.” He looked at Remus. “Brilliant. Thought I’d been rubbing off on you.” Remus could feel the tug of attraction, and immediately glanced to see Peter’s ears turning bright red in the middle of class.

“Merlin help us, you horny bastard,” James muttered, slapping Sirius on the back of the head.

“Sweet Salazar,” Sirius exclaimed, his grin getting wide and eyes wicked. “That’s what’s going on? This morning and now? You all got second-hand frisky?!” His voice had been just a bit too loud. Remus clamped a hand over his mouth, but the damage had been done. A few nearby students burst out laughing at the out of context statement. Some of the Slytherins could be heard muttering about how the marauders were all over each other, with laughter rippling among them.

Sirius lifted from his chair, and Remus could feel the hot defensive anger that was brewing inside himself. James looked like he was ready to lunge from across the classroom/ Peter looked ready to snarl at them. Remus shook his head of the emotions just long enough to grab at Sirius’s wrist.

“Calm,” He spoke sharply, “You’re responsible for getting us wired up too.”

Sirius scowled, no longer pleased by the antics of this charm. His anger deepened, the feeling of being held back was incidentally fueling the flame. Every nerve in each of their bodies was alight in frustration. This feeling wasn’t entirely out of place for any of them in regards to the situation, just the Sirius-level intensity.

“Don’t need to play their bollocks game.” Remus continued.

Across the room, Avery gave a pointed snort. “Look at them. Gryffindors can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

James gripped his desk in an attempt of self-control, his knuckles turning white on the table. Peter was trying to look forward and fight the urge to snap. Sirius was trying now too, but clearly his emotions were in turmoil, evident by the feelings everyone else was experiencing.

Remus hissed. “Sit.” Despite feeling his own blood rushing at the idea of giving Avery a piece of his mind. Sirius glanced at Remus, eyes sharp, then back ahead at the front of class. He closed his eyes a moment, then exhaled, lowering himself back into his seat.

The feeling of rage never fully went away, but Sirius managed to tuck it away just enough that they could see through the rest of Potions without a full scale war. After class, Sirius quickly stood up and left before the others. Remus could feel the frustration, it was ripping away at his self-control. Even when he wasn’t next to them, his feelings pervaded.

Remus hunted Sirius down with James and Peter in tow, all looking incredibly irritable and almost snapping with each other. He found Sirius pacing furiously at the end of a corridor.

“Bloody Slytherins.” He spat. “Weaponizing my fucking emotions.”

James bristled. “It’s like it’s crawling in my head. You’re trigger happy, I can feel it.”

“I’d use no words including happy right now.” Sirius’s laugh was bitter. “This hex… It’s what, you’re practically all reading my mind right now?” He looked defensive, and Remus could start to feel the creeping insecurity.

“Not your mind,” Peter started.

“Feelings.” Remus finished for him. “Not thoughts. Not memories. Just feelings.” He emphasized that to Sirius. He knew how he felt about anything related to legilimency. It made him ache.

“It’s bloody exhausting,” James admitted. “Dunno how you do this, mate.”

Sirius gave him the ghost of a smile, trying to return to baseline. The anger still simmered but he gave a resigned sign. “Welcome to my fucking head.” He muttered.

Remus could feel the deep tug, and steeled himself trying to hold his own emotions above Sirius’s. “Gonna have to do your best, Pads. We don’t know your emotions like you do.”

“I can’t just be fucking zen all day.” Sirius snapped. “I can’t even fucking look at you without Peter’s ears turning red!”

James snorted at that. Remus pinched his nose. “Then don’t fucking look at me, okay?”

“Can’t even look at my boyfriend without it being a fucking group activity!” Sirius continued, hands raised.

Peter groaned.

“Merlin’s beard,” James complained. “I think I’d rather be speaking French right now.”

“Careful,” Remus started, sly grin forming. “You’re gonna make Sirius think about me speaking French again.”

The words made Sirius whip his head around, and he caught James looking immediately flustered. This broke the tension, Sirius’s own smug tendencies through Remus made him laugh.

“Bloody hell,” James groaned, “Moony, don’t encourage him!”

Peter muffled a strangled laugh behind his fist, and muttered. “Too late.”

At least, the tension shattered. Sirius broke into laughter, which of course rolled across the group. The amusement was shared, as Remus and James began to chuckle as well.

—

The day went by as horribly as one would expect, with all four boys teeming with the emotional intensity of a hailstorm. It was compounded by any Slytherins in the know, as they’d stirred up trouble just to see Sirius’s emotions ignite across the marauders like wildfire.

That evening, Remus found himself alone with Sirius in the common room. They sat together on the couch, watching the fire flicker in the hearth.

“It’s like being in the middle of a storm,” Remus said quietly. “Is it always like this? I mean… For you?” He looked up at Sirius warily.

Sirius sighed and turned his gaze away, as if not meeting Remus’s eyes might make the feelings transfer less intensely. Remus felt the pang of discomfort ripple through him. Clearly, this wasn’t a conversation Sirius was eager to have.

“I’ve always felt so strongly. You know that,” Sirius said, eyes fixed on the flames.

“I know,” Remus replied, squeezing Sirius’s hand gently. “But well, it’s different. When you actually feel it. So I guess… I never really knew.”

He paused, watching Sirius’s expression.

“Even when you’ve got that tough look on the outside, now I know what’s underneath. It makes me wonder…” His voice trailed off, nerves creeping up on him. He wasn’t sure whether they were his or Sirius’s.

“How intense, it must have been,” Remus continued, voice softer. “When you… found me?”

Sirius’s jaw tensed, eyes flicking across the room. He couldn’t deflect. Remus would know.

“More than I think even this hex could transfer,” He admitted. “More than you could ever know.” His voice was low, dropped to a near whisper. “I couldn’t think anymore, most of the time. Just feel.”

Remus swallowed hard, throat tight. He could feel that longing desperation that Sirius had dug up from his memories. The aching fear pulsed under his own skin now.

“I just… I don’t know how you do it,” Remus said, gaze locked on Sirius. He could feel the grief. “And it makes me even more angry that you had to experience that. Knowing now how strongly you truly feel.”

“Don’t be angry for me, Remus,” Sirius said, meeting his eyes. “Be angry for you. I wasn’t the one who got hexed. You’re the one whose memories…” He paused, swallowing. “Whose sense of self… It all got scrambled.”

His breath caught. Hands balled into fists.

“I got to remember all of that. See what it did to you. And some of those memories… they’re bittersweet now. But you had to live it. I know that you still struggle with the parts that never really came back.”

Remus looked down. Sirius was right, that he still felt the aftermath from that cursed fag. He’d regained practically all of his memories, but there were some that were still patchy, especially those from the moments he’d been pulled deepest into himself. The memories that had returned, well… many returned with their own kind of grief. He had to reprocess many feelings, rework through memories that made him feel small. But even through that grief, he felt anger. Anger that Sirius had to witness him at his lowest, and that it could have been Sirius in his place.

Sirius seemed to read his thoughts. His shoulders eased slightly, and Remus felt the tension lessen between them.

“Thing is…” Remus said, “I don’t think I’d have been able to handle it if the roles were reversed. So I’m thankful that it wasn't you. But the fact you had to carry all of this for me… to see everything, hold it for me… I hate that you had to.”

He looked up, voice quieter now.

“But I love you all the more for it. I just wish you didn’t have to carry it so hard, like you’re doing even now. With these emotions, you know?”

Sirius opened his mouth, guilt already creeping into his expression. “I’m sorry–”

“No.” Remus interrupted, firm but kind. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Sirius’s cheek.
“I’ll hold yours,” He whispered, “as you held mine. Your feelings. My memories.”

Sirius turned to look at him, unguarded. Raw. A beat passed before they both stood, heading to the dorm together. Inside, they were alone.

“You know,” Sirius started, teasing now, trying to lift the mood. “At least you have context right now. I can only imagine poor James and Peter.”

“Merlin, imagine,” Remus said. “Going through the five stages of grief while out in the corridors with no idea why.”

Sirius snorted. “Wonder if they’ll ask when they get back: ‘Why’s Padfoot got us feeling gutted’?”

“Think they’ll be too livid,” Remus said, moving towards the bed. “James is going to kill you, I’m sure.”

“He can take that up with Pandora,” Sirius muttered, climbing onto the bed with reckless ease.

Remus felt it again, that tug in his chest. Like gravity, drawing him towards Sirius. He joined him without thinking, trying not to dwell on poor James and Peter catching secondhand feelings somewhere in the castle.

Because now, he felt everything. Sirius’s love. His desire. The yearning. It was electric. All-consuming. And it felt fucking good.

It was raw. Visceral.

Later, they laid tangled in each other, curtains drawn, hidden from the world. Until the door slammed open.

“You absolute menaces!” James yelled. “I knew exactly what you were doing, while I was sitting there steaming in the library!”

Sirius grinned wickedly. “Well, Prongs? Then I know you enjoyed it. I certainly did.”

James’s eyes widened. “I DID NOT—- do you know how traumatizing it is? Being in the restricted section, and suddenly…”

His hands flailed wildly, completely at a loss for words.

Remus let out a strangled laugh. Sirius, however, cackled wildly. Of course, this led to James stifling a laugh himself, though he still tried to look outraged at the situation.

“I don’t think I can ever look at you both the same,” James muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“You know too much now. I’ll have to protect Moony from you, now that you know what he’s capable of,” Sirius grinned.

Remus buried his face in his hands, torn between wanting to laugh and crawling into a hole. The flush crept up his neck with determined precision, no charm in the world strong enough to rid him of his embarrassment.

Just then, the door behind James creaked open. Peter stood there, eyes wide and expression mortified. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. They all knew what they’d put this poor man through.

“You’re still having too much fun with these pranks,” Remus said, grabbing a pillow and whacking Sirius with it. “French? You knew it already. Your emotions? That too.” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s next, we all wake up with your hairstyle?”

 

“Well, can’t say I really want you parading my feelings, as we’ve discussed…” Sirius smirked. “But you’re right. Still, you don’t think they’re doing that on purpose?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Like what, Reg protecting you or something? Pranks that can’t hit you the same way? Yeah, no. I don’t think he’s inclined toward that amount of amity. Honestly, I don’t think he was involved. Not beyond yesterday’s theatrics.”

“What do you mean?” James asked, folding his arms.

“Well,” Remus said, “I have a theory. And if I’m correct, none of this is Barty’s real vengeance. Not yet.”

The room went quiet.

“Think about it,” he continued. “Regulus told Sirius that yesterday was Barty’s idea, but with his influence. So technically, it was shaped by Reg. That prank felt like something he’d do. Clever but not cruel.”

“And now today, Pandora’s box.” Remus added. “That one was literally labeled with her name on it.”

“So you’re saying,” Peter said slowly, “They’re all taking turns?”

“Not just taking turns,” Remus said. “I think it’s still being orchestrated by Barty. But instead of just one big thing himself, he’s letting his friends take the stage first. Building suspense.”

“Like an opening act,” Sirius muttered.

Remus nodded. “Exactly. I think we haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Haven’t seen anything?” James started, wide-eyed. “tell that to my traumatic experience!”

“Hey,” Sirius said with a smirk, “technically you didn’t see anything. Just… felt it all.”

“You kneazle’s arse.” James threw a pillow at his head.

Remus leaned back on the bed, letting out a long sigh. Whatever came next, he hoped it wouldn’t involve another emotional ambush. If his theory was right, the next prank would be one of Evan’s design. He didn’t know Evan’s style all that well, but now, being all too familiar with his sister’s methods, he wasn’t exactly eager to find out.

Chapter 3: Unpredictable Outcomes

January 12th, 1978

Third time’s the curse, Remus thought grimly. They always said trouble came in threes.

They’d gotten up and out of bed without any mischievous circumstances. No language hexes. No emotional contagion, and despite Remus’s joking prediction, they didn’t have a spontaneous development of Sirius’s hairstyle. Back was that familiar buzz of anticipation, wondering what Evan might have in store for his personal opening act.

They arrived in the Great Hall, and took their usual spots amongst their classmates. James was mid-story, drawing laughter from Mary and Marlene. Peter was focused on buttering a scone. Sirius, meanwhile, had his eyes keen on the Slytherin table, narrowed with suspicion. Remus had just reached for the eggs when something made his nose twitch. A scent, sharp and acrid.

Silver.

He flinched, glancing around for a prefect. Their badges always stung when nearby. He turned to Sirius, hoping to recruit him in identifying the source. It made his eyes water. That’s when he caught the glint, a gaudy pin on Sirius’s robes. The ornate script read:

“Nothing more than a Black.”

Remus’s eyes shot to Peter.

“Not really one of them.”

And James.

“Love won’t save them.”

Finally, he glanced down at his own robes, and felt the first sting through the fabric.

“I’ll hurt the ones I love.”

His chest tightened.

“Sirius,” He hissed, grabbing at his sleeve. “Sirius. It’s silver.”

He pointed Sirius’s attention to the pin. “They’re silver.”

Sirius moved instantly, leaving no time to waste in attempting to unfasten Remus’s pin. But as soon as his fingers brushed the metal, Remus jerked back in panic, startling Sirius.

His eyes widened in horror as horrific images assaulted his vision.

Sirius, bloodied and mauled, claw marks deep across his face and chest.

Remus looked down. His hands, replaced by monstrous claws, stained red.

And around them, the students in the Great Hall stared back in silence, horrified.

He recoiled.

“No… Sirius… I didn’t… please, get away!”

Laughter erupted from the Slytherin table.

Sirius froze, gut clenched at the look in Remus’s eyes. It was familiar. The same fear he’d seen in Remus’s eyes during the hex. That same fear, now directed at him.

“Moony, wait!”

But Remus was already gone.

Sirius’s fingers trembled, he hardly looked at his own pin, barely registering the words scrawled across it. He just yanked it.

Instantly, he saw the shift. James and Peter sat across from him, looking at him with pure contempt. Their eyes were void of affection, staring at him in cold disgust.

“You’re just like them, in the end.” James said, voice cutting like steel.

“Knew you’d snap eventually,” Peter added, his face twisted with disdain.

His stomach dropped. The room tilted, the sharpness of betrayal in their eyes cut like knives. He snarled, then ripped the pin free and flung it onto the table. The illusion shattered, but not fast enough. He found himself fighting his own heartbeat for control.

Before he could go after Remus, he looked at James and Peter again, no contempt in their eyes, just concern.

“Don’t touch them,” he warned. “Not yet. They show you… twisted things. Like the worst part of your head turned against you.”

James hesitated, hand hovering over his own pin. Peter swallowed hard, color draining from his face.

“It must have shown him something awful,” Sirius muttered, then he snapped upright. “And it was silver. Still on him… fuck! We need to go!”

—

Remus had barely staggered into the corridor, stumbling into the wall, clawing at the pin that scorched him through his robes. With each attempt to tear it free, variations of his friends horribly mutilated by his own hands flickered across his vision. Superimposed across his eyesight like they were now laying in the corridor in front of him. He could see James’s body, mangled on the ground, twisted unnaturally. Peter, gasping for breath, staring in fear. Sirius, lying motionless, eyes half-lidded. Lifeless. All marred by claw marks. All by his hand. All his fault.

He collapsed into an alcove, clutching his chest, vision blurring, breath sharp and uneven.

A voice broke through the fog. Pandora.

“Don’t. I’ll hurt you,” He gasped.

She tutted, and ignored the warning. Then she stepped forward, and quickly grabbed the pin.

He flinched. For a moment, he saw her bloodied, white hair stained deep red. Then, the acrid stench faded. She had hastily transfigured the pin into copper and tossed it away, down the corridor.

She sat down beside him.

“That…” she finally muttered. “wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Remus looked away. His chest burned, not just from the silver, but from the humiliation, the panic. He had been found out, by a Slytherin no less.

He could feel the welt on his chest, thumping with his heartbeat. He winced.

“Let me see it,” She reached towards him. Remus grabbed her wrist in protest.

She gently pulled his hand away from her wrist, insistent.

“I didn’t know that it would be silver,” she admitted. “and that silver, well… would do this, to you.”

“It wasn’t,” Remus lied. ”Just… awful visions.”

The situation was obvious, but he was desperate.
He hoped, foolishly, that Pandora would drop it.

She gave him a long look. “No. It wasn’t just that. But it’s okay.” Her voice was quiet. Then she offered a small, understanding smile. “I’m not an idiot, and I won’t tell.”

“This sort of thing requires discretion.” She continued, then paused, and added more seriously,
“Besides, I don’t subscribe to the same superstitions everyone else seems to cling to. Slytherins, everyone's seen as innately evil. Werewolves? Same principle, just… far more bloodlust attached. But you?” She shook her head.

She reached toward him again, gentler this time.
“Now,” She continued. “Let me.”

She adjusted Remus’s shirt, unbuttoned slightly to reveal the welt forming across his chest. She tutted again, and reached into her satchel, pulling out a small jar of dittany.

“Good thing I keep this around. My hobbies come with risk, as you’re aware.”

She had just finished applying a smear of the salve across the welt, when the thunder of footsteps could be heard echoing down the corridor.

“Step away from him!” Sirius' voice rang out sharp, wand drawn and ready.
Peter and James skidded to a halt behind him.

“It’s okay,” Remus said weakly. “She’s helping.”

Pandora raised her hands slowly, sitting back. Sirius scanned Remus, dropping his eyes to the welt on his chest, and then the jar of salve opened beside him. He slowly lowered his wand, but his grip remained, his knuckles white with tension.

“You two.” Pandora snapped. “Transfigure those pins, get them off, or just leave.” She gestured at the cursed pins on James and Peter. “I figure you boys already know what silver does to him, judging by your reaction,” she added, voice clipped. “So be smart.”

James didn’t wait after that comment. He flicked his wand at the pin on his chest and murmured the incantation. A brief shimmer ran over the metal, then nothing. The pin remained stubbornly silver.

Then, he flinched, deeply unsettled. His gaze went glassy, and Remus watched the color drain from his face. Remus could only wonder what exactly he’d seen.

He staggered back, and Sirius almost had to catch him from falling backwards.

“Damn,” Pandora muttered. “Charmed to resist. Keeps the illusion from being dodged by magic.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll have to trigger it properly, then toss it. Fast.”

 

James shook his head, blinking out of the fog.

“Fine,” He muttered, still trembling. “Let’s just… get this over with.”

He hesitated, hand trembling mid-air. Then quieter, almost ashamed, he added.
“Padfoot… grab it.” He glanced at Sirius, eyes raw. “I can’t.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. He understood the grip of fear. He reached forward, eyes locked on James’s and ripped the pin free. It clattered to the stone floor. Pandora quickly transfigured it from where she sat with Remus.

James gasped, his knees buckled as he was pulled into the illusion again. Sirius caught his shoulder, and James jumped, gripping Sirius’s in return.

“No… no… Pads…” James gasped, an expression of sorrow on his face. He turned his head slowly, like in a trance. When he glanced over at the others, whatever he saw pulled a tortured sound from his chest.

“James?” Sirius had a firm grip on him, steadied him with both hands. “I’m here. You’re okay.” He repeated, waiting for the illusion to let James go.

He turned his head to Peter, still holding James’s shoulders. Peter looked pale. “You want me to–” Sirius started.

Peter shook his head quickly. “No. I should try,”

He breathed deeply, before grabbing at the metal. With a strangled sound, he ripped it off and hurled it down the corridor, far enough from Remus. He staggered back himself, and the vision took him for a moment. He looked onward, distraught for a moment, shaking his head in disagreement. Then bent over, hands on his knees.

“Good job, Wormtail.” Sirius said gently, then turned his gaze back to James.

“You alright, mate? That thing kicked your ass, huh?”

James sported a strained grin, but his eyes betrayed something darker. Sirius guided him over to sit beside Remus, and James let out a shaky sigh as he lowered himself down.

“What… What did you see?” Sirius asked hesitantly.

“Merlin,” James murmured, as he dragged his hand across his face. “You. Where you were standing… The light. It just left your eyes. You just… collapsed. Dead weight.” His voice cracked. “And I couldn’t do a thing.”

“And when I looked around,” he continued, voice rough. “it wasn’t just you…” He glanced at the others. “All of you. Gone.”

Remus met his eyes, and gave a soft look.

“Sounds like you’ve upstaged me for the worst fear realized.” He said dryly.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck as he joined the huddle around Remus and James. He let out a self-conscious huff.

“Can’t believe the things it made you all see. Mine felt daft in comparison. The fear was real, yeah, but… still. Doesn’t even compare.”

“Hey, fear is fear, mate.” James said firmly, still pale. “Not a bloody contest.”

Remus gave Peter a small smile. “Not really one of them, my arse. You chucked that pin farther than the rest of us. If that’s not a Marauder’s spirit, I don’t know what is.”

“Now we need that Marauder’s spirit to kick some Slytherin arse,” Sirius snarled, eyes flashing. He turned to Pandora. “This is your brother’s work, then?”

“I’d love to say no,” She replied, tone dry. “but I think we both know the answer.”

Sirius scoffed. “If you hadn’t just helped Moony, I’d have your head for that one.”

“Might still,” He added, narrowing his eyes.

“Fair.” Pandora raised a brow, unfazed. “You all would’ve had an easier time though yesterday, if you weren’t the one to open my box first.”

“How so?” Sirius asked.

She smirked. “Well, I didn’t decide who’s emotions got broadcasted. That was on whoever couldn’t handle the temptation of ‘Pandora’s box’.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Oh, brilliant. Saying I’ve got zero impulse control, is that it?”

“Exactly,” She said, matter-of-fact. “Actions, consequences. Imagine, everyone would’ve been so well-adjusted if it had been… Well, literally anyone else.”

James snorted. “You’re saying I’ve got restraint?”

 

Remus arched his brow. “Yeah, the restraint of a golden retriever.”

“All beaming like sunflowers,” Peter added.

“Better than Mr. Passionate over here.” James shot back.

“Oi!” Sirius barked, mock-offended.

“Alright, you lot.” Pandora cut in. “We’ve established you’re all varying degrees of chaotic. But maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

“Our?” James echoed, eyes narrowed.

She shrugged. “Look, I can tell what you all want to do. Evan went too far. It’s true, he doesn’t exactly have tact.”

The group nodded in agreement, no argument there.

“And you’re looking to interrupt Barty before he pulls whatever he’s got cooked up, I presume?”

“Well, we aren’t just sitting around waiting to get hexed again.” James replied. “French? Admittedly, that was entertaining. Sirius’s emotions? A little less so, but kind of enlightening. But this one?”

He shook his head. “It was fucked up. We’re done playing defense.”

“So you didn’t totally hate mine or Reg’s work,” Pandora noted. “Let me repeat. We can use that chaos of yours. I can certainly work with it.”

“You’re jumping ship? Switching sides?” Sirius’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m saying… Barty’s not going to stop. I respect his stubbornness, and he’s brilliant, but… he’s predictable.” She turned towards the group. “But it would be so much more fun. Imagine… mixed talents. Slytherin cunning, and Gryffindor audacity. Now that would be unpredictable. Barty wouldn’t know what hit him.”

Clearly, Pandora found herself a fun outlet in pranks, Remus thought. It was a good way for her to experiment without risking losing a finger or two.

“How are we going to expect you not to double-cross us?” Peter asked, suspicious. “That you won’t turn our hair green or transfigure us into something gross?”

“I’d have already done that already if I wanted to, love.” Pandora teased. “And besides, what’s the fun in dealing with predictable outcomes?”

“It’s all an experiment for you, isn’t it?” Remus eyed Pandora.

“What can I say?” She raised her hands. “I guess in that regard, I am also too predictable.”

Sirius squinted at her, then sighed. “This is either going to be brilliant, or explode in our faces.”

James grinned, weary but game. “She’s mental, but she’s onto something. I’m in.”

“Sounds like you’re really trying to be that scandal of Slytherin,” Remus joked, referencing last term.

Sirius’s tone turned solemn. “If we’re letting you in, it’s clever. Not cruel. We’re not forgiving twice.”

“Noted.” Pandora responded, unapologetic.

And from that, they all felt revived, slightly. The weight lifted, replaced with defiance and curiosity at the idea of fighting Barty’s pranking ‘vengeance’ with a truly unique perspective.

Whatever Barty had planned, he wouldn’t see this coming.

Not a plan involving a mad Slytherin genius gone rogue, and certainly not one involving the Marauders letting her join their forces.

Chapter 4: Lines Drawn, Lines Crossed

“Excuse me?” Remus snapped. “I am capable of handling a prank. I’m a fucking Marauder too.”

Sirius had pulled him aside later on in the day, after classes had ended, requesting that he sit this prank out, for his safety. Remus was frankly rather livid at the idea. Being treated like something fragile, it rubbed him the wrong way. He knew he felt rather fragile after the hex last term, but it certainly did not give Sirius the permission to treat as though he’d shatter.

Sirius dragged a hand through his hair. Pacing. Unable to keep still. “You think this is about whether you can handle it?”

“I think it’s about you deciding that I can’t.”

“Remus, twice now,” Sirius said, voice low. “in just a few months, you’ve been hit with something traumatic, wrapped up in the excuse of a prank. And I had to watch it happen. Again.” His voice tightened. “I’d rather not see that if this one turns south too.”

Remus took a step forward. His stomach clenched at the way Sirius spoke. The drawing of lines in spite of his own volition. That awful sense that no matter how much he grew, someone would always try to draw the lines for him. And that it was coming from Sirius, it stung more than it should have.

“That’s not your decision.”

“Not to mention look what happened! Now Pandora knows! Thank fuck that she’s one of the rare decent Slytherins!”

“Still not your decision.”

Sirius stopped pacing. “Don’t care, I’ll make it mine if I have to.”

Remus let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Of course you will. Because when it comes down to it, you still think I need protecting. That I’m still that child. That I can only make the choices, have control, when it doesn’t scare you.”

He didn’t wait for Sirius to respond.

“You weren’t the one everyone pitied. I don’t need more of that. I’ve been spending every damn day since clawing my way back to some kind of control, over my feelings, over my memories, over my bloody mind. Now you’re saying I don’t get to choose what I risk?”

He took a sharp breath. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

How many times had he already dealt with his agency getting stripped away?

It started with Greyback, when that monster decided his future with a single bite. From that moment, it never really stopped. Being hexed into a child. Being pinned by silver charmed to claw open his worst fears. All just the next entries in a long, bitter list of violations to his own agency. And the looming threat of the registry. The government itself was begging to determine who he could and couldn’t be.

Each one, a reminder that someone else always gets to choose. Someone else always decides who he’s allowed to be.

And now Sirius, the one person who was never supposed to do that, was trying to join that list.

“If I hadn’t made a risk with James, who knows if we’d ever figured it out. If we hadn’t trusted Regulus, you might’ve still had a child version of me trapped like that with no say in anything.”

His voice cracked on the last words, making him feel even angrier. He started towards the door. “Brilliant.”

“Moony, wait… I didn’t mean—“

“Yes, you did.” Remus snapped. “You want to protect me. You want to coddle me. But you don’t get to do that this time.”

“Every time something has happened,” his voice softened, but the edge stayed. “I lost control. I lost my say. I didn’t get to make the choice. And you saw that. You know how it wrecked me. And how it made me feel small.”

Remus did not want Sirius to see his fault lines first rather than his strengths. He’d worked hard to accept them, to some extent. But still, acceptance didn’t mean prioritizing them over his own aptitudes. It didn’t mean letting those cracks become the lens through which others, especially Sirius, might measure him.

Sirius opened his mouth, maybe to explain, take it back, but Remus didn’t let him.

“So don’t. You don’t get to make my choice.”

“Ok, Moony. That’s fine, then. You can be a part of it, the counter-prank.”

“No.”

Sirius looked up again.

“Decided my choice. Lucky for you, I don’t want to. Not anymore. Have fun.”

And with that he left. Sirius stood there, frozen in place.

—

As soon as Remus left, he began plotting.

His pace was brisk, jaw tight, and thoughts racing. He knew he’d gotten worked up, more than he’d meant to, but he still felt the fire it lit in his chest. Sirius had meant well, maybe. But the intent didn’t erase the way it felt. The way it stung. At the moment, Sirius felt like silver.

He wasn’t going to participate in their prank. Not now. Not after that.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to pull one himself.
Something smarter. Sharper. Better than anything they could pull without him.

A beautiful spite-driven piece of work, not just revenge, but proof. Proof that he wasn’t fragile.

Even if this feeling was exaggerated, exacerbated by the past year’s emotional wreckage and everything looming on the horizon, he didn’t care.
To hell with temperance.

He was going to have fun. He was going to outmaneuver that beautiful bastard who could still make him flare up like this.

He didn’t go where the marauders might find him. Not his usual hiding spots. Not the library, the greenhouse, or even the hospital wing.
Instead, he took a turn down the stairs.

Straight towards the dungeons.

It wasn’t exactly easy, trying to find who he was looking for when he couldn’t enter the Slytherin common room himself, and most passing Slytherins offered no more than sneers or passing glances. They surely wondered what the hell a stray gryffindor was doing in their territory.

“You’re really trying to sell that scandal story,” came a voice that echoed from behind him. Pandora certainly had a habit of showing up when needed.

“Well, you won’t be the only one made a scandal of, if you can help me get a hold of someone.”

She tilted her head, intrigued.

“I’d like to speak with Regulus.”

Her eyes glinted. “Interesting.” She turned smoothly towards the common room dorm, and gave a gesture for him to follow. “Careful, some of the first-years bite.”

—

Regulus must have caught a glimpse of her, or sensed her chaos from across the room. She was practically skipping, with Remus in tow.

“Calm yourself, Rosier.” He called, without looking up. “Can’t focus with all your movement.”

He was seated at a table, quill in hand, mid-revision.

“Shall I go, then?” Remus announced dryly.

Regulus looked up sharply, eyes narrowed.

“Not everyday someone voluntarily enters a place they’re so generally unwelcome.”

Remus shrugged. “Well, you did it for me.”

“Fair,” he said. “But I had precedent.”

“I do too.”

Regulus put his textbook down and looked up at Remus.

“Never seen you look quite like that. My brother piss you off?”

“More or less.”

“Ok. Well, you’ve piqued my interest.”

“I’d like to recruit you, for a prank of my own.”

That earned almost a double take from Regulus. From him, that was practically a dramatic gasp. Across the room, Pandora snorted loudly, then resumed pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping.

Remus went on. “Based on that letter, you have no particular interest in Barty holding you up on some tragic pedestal while he vows revenge in your name. And right now, I’ve got no particular interest in the Marauder’s current plan to deal with him.”

Regulus kept watching, saying nothing.

“But, that doesn’t mean I don’t want my own part. I want in. And I think you could help. I’m not looking to just get Barty, either.”

Regulus raised a brow. “Wow,” he said flatly. “You really know how to pitch a proposition.”

Remus said nothing, but met Regulus’s gaze.

“Alright, Lupin. I’m listening.”

Remus suggested a more private location for discussion, so as to minimize the ‘scandal’ and odds of Barty catching wind. They discussed it in an empty classroom, near where Potions was held.

Regulus leaned against a desk. “So. What’s your angle?”

“All I know is that they want to upstage Barty and sabotage whatever he’s planning. And currently, I’m not privy to anything else.”

“That’s why your cross,” Regulus said simply.

“Part of it,” he admitted, “I want Barty confused. Trying to figure out what the hell is going on when multiple things go off at once. And I want my friends, my lot, to think for a moment they’ve been outmaneuvered. Until they realize it wasn’t him.”

“What gives it away?” Regulus asked.

“When it’s too clever.”

That earned a grin from Regulus. “That won’t take long.”

Then he asked, “Still not sure why you came to me.”

Remus looked at him. “It’s petty, but… I know you’d help me hit Sirius where it’d land. And I know that you wouldn’t dare cross the line you did last year. Not anymore.”

Regulus inclined his head, agreement.

“So,” Remus continued. “Sirius needs to recognize that I’m the one in control of what I do. And you… I know you can add something clever. Sharp but not cruel. Cruel enough already, I suppose, asking for help from his brother.”

“So,” Regulus folded his arms. “you’ve got anything in mind then?”

“An idea, but it’ll require coordination, some flair. In the meantime,” he paused. “Any chance you know what Barty’s planning?”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “No clue. As I’ve said before, not his keeper. I did my bit.”

Silence settled for a moment. Then Regulus said, without looking up. “So, even after last term. You trust me to work with you? You did get those memories back, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Still hold some strong feelings about it. But… I respect your resolve to fix it. And, after a while, when I was back to myself, I did piece together some memories from then. You’re not all that bad.”

Regulus’s glare sharpened, unreadable.

“You actually tried to comfort me. In the hallway.”

He looked away.

“I remember thinking you were Sirius for a second.” he laughed. “Then panicked when I realized you weren’t. But then James came down the corridor yelling, and I thought ‘close enough’.”

Regulus’s mouth twitched. “You said my eyes were sad.”

Remus groaned. “Merlin, you didn’t drop kick me right then and there for that?”

“You were scared. I’m not a monster.” A pause. “And well, I remember the feeling as a kid.”

Remus gave a half-smile, surprised by the admission.

“I don’t think James could have ever expected that,” Remus added. “Me, clinging to you.”

He hesitated, then said quieter. “And the way his expression changed when he saw how gentle you were.”

Shit. Remus realized he’d spoken too comfortably. Those words came out too easily. He’d let down those guardrails when thinking of the memory.

James would probably have drop-kicked little him if he had the chance now, he thought.

“Right. Pretend that one wasn’t said out loud.”

Regulus didn’t answer immediately, but then spoke up.

“I’d noticed it too.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Was like he didn’t know whether to hex or thank me.”

“That was the recurring theme that week.”

“Mmm.” He responded.

It was easy to forget how young Regulus was. Technically, only a year younger than them, but the softness in his voice just then, that reminded Remus.

His posture had loosened, he didn’t look as armored as he usually did. And Remus had realized this softness, it developed as they retraced along this memory that neither of them expected to share. One where, for a moment, James seemed to understand Regulus a little more.

That part still caught him off guard. He wouldn’t have expected it. And yet, he was undeniably curious about it. He didn’t ask, some things were best left unanswered, waiting for the right person to ask them.

Until then, he’d wait to see how that may unfold.

Chapter 5: Then Came The Scampering

Sirius was not greeted by Remus joining him behind the curtains of his bedframe. No quiet shuffle of limbs. No dry quip. Just the soft, deliberate sounds of Remus organizing his things, the muttered mention of the library, and then silence.

He’d come back. Gone straight to bed. No eye contact.

Sirius stared up at the ceiling of his four-poster, arms folded behind his head.

He was being immature. He had to know how difficult it was, seeing him go through everything this year. Sirius knew Remus was strong. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was how much pain he still carried. Someone had to keep things from pushing him off the edge again.

Didn’t he get that?

A whisper at the edge of the bed broke his spiraling. James and Peter peeked through the curtains.

“Oh good,” James said. “You’re alone.”

“Right,” Sirius muttered, shifting to sit up. “Yeah.”

They climbed in beside him, casting a quiet Muffliato to avoid disturbing Remus.

“I told you he wasn’t going to take it well,” James said, voice low.

“What did he say?” Peter asked.

“He compared it to when he was hexed,” Sirius muttered, rubbing at his temple. “Said I’m too controlling.”

“Oof.” Peter winced.

“I’m just trying to keep him safe,” Sirius snapped. “Is that really such a crime?”

“No,” James said quickly, “But… You know Moony doesn’t like being told what to do.”

Sirius let out a bitter laugh. “You think I don’t know that?”

“And you still did anyway?”

James’s voice wasn’t accusing, more baffled than anything.

“I panicked, alright?” Sirius groaned, “I saw the way this all could go, and all I could think was not again. I don’t want him to lose himself again… And I don’t want to lose him.
He pulled his legs close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them like he used to when he was younger.

Peter spoke up. “Maybe trust that he won’t. And if something does happen, trust that he’ll come back from it. He’s proven that more than enough.”

James nodded. “We can check with him again in the morning. Maybe now that you’ve both had time to cool off, he’ll be up for it. We can brief him on the plan.”

“He was adamant.” Sirius muttered, resigned.

“Well, then,” James said, “We make sure the next one after that, he’s right back where he belongs, leading the charge as the best of our pranking brains.”

“Now,” he continued. “Let’s go over our plan, shall we?”

—

January 13th, 1978

Barty had months to orchestrate his grand prank. The Marauders, and Remus, had only a day to design their counter-pranks. Remus had even more on his plate, planning a second layer beneath it: a double-cross to catch Sirius off guard. At least he had Regulus for that part.

Pandora, to her credit, kept quiet about his excursion to the Slytherin dorms while also helping the rest of the Marauders. Remus doubted even Regulus realized she was involved in her own alliance-crossing mischief.

What they’d created was a gloriously tangled spiderweb of Gryffindor and Slytherin-aligned trickery. Utterly chaotic, and utterly exciting for all parties involved.

Remus had stayed behind from the Great Hall, muttering to the others that he’d skip breakfast “to avoid Barty’s incoming disaster.” In truth, he’d left not long after the rest of them, but only to meet Regulus in a nearby corridor.

Together, they managed to sneak into the Great Hall without being caught by either of the tables. The trick? Transfiguration. But not a full transformation, as he’d already had enough trouble with that excuse last term. It was just enough to alter their appearance, otherwise McGonagall would have his head if she knew. Regulus had protested the idea, but agreed only because of the opportunity to prank Sirius by way of working with his boyfriend.

Remus had transfigured his own hair black, longer, and messier to obscure his features. He dulled the color of his eyes, and cast a cosmetic spell to mask as many scars as he could manage. For Regulus, who couldn’t bring himself to alter his own appearance, Remus took the liberty: Dirty blonde hair, straight and plain, with an extra smattering of freckles across his face. He snickered as he finished it, earning a firm smack to the back of the head.

They swapped their robes for Hufflepuff ones and slipped quietly to the edge of the Hufflepuff table, doing their best to stay inconspicuous. If anyone noticed they weren’t supposed to be there, no one said a word.

Barty’s prank had become another opening-act, rather than the grand finale, as the Marauders had planned. It barely had started, before the Marauders eclipsed it entirely. Barty had foolishly required the concentration of whoever was involved in casting it to strengthen the prank. There was a selection of Slytherins parsed among the table that had been recruited. A dark green fog began to snake along the Gryffindor table, settling at his friend’s feet. Remus caught the unease on Sirius’s and James’s faces. Peter was sitting with his head towards Remus but he could assume the same expression was there. It began to cling to their feet, and all three of them appeared to be yanked off their seats, like they’d passed out or been pulled downward. Remus stood up for a moment, before Regulus pulled him back down, trying not to blow their cover. But Remus was concerned, not knowing how severe Barty’s prank might be.

Fortunately, the counter-prank quickly took hold. He saw them start to sit back up, grimacing, but the fog was fading. It hadn’t gone on long enough to be the spectacle Barty had hoped for. Barty stood up, trying to see what had gone wrong, and a stagelight conjured on him. He squinted against it, then went to speak. Instead, full-blown opera belted out of him. At the same time, every co-conspirator who’d helped cast the mysterious fog and start the unknown ‘vengeance’ was enveloped in an explosion of red and gold glitter. Covered head to toe.

The Hall fell silent, all heads turning toward Barty and his glitter-drenched accomplices. Remus nearly choked on a laugh. Damn, upstaging him by making him the stage. Brilliant.

Barty looked properly confounded. He opened his mouth again and was met with the volume of a Howler. Evan, dripping in glitter, slapped him to shut him up before he deafened someone. Barty turned to step from the bench, only to find himself abruptly dressed in a sweeping ball gown. His face grew red, and the moment Remus had been waiting for, he pulled out his wand, ready to hex the Gryffindor table.

And that’s when Remus’s prank came to fruition.

Inspired by how foreign Muggle items were to pure-bloods, especially ones like Barty, his wand had been transfigured into an electric toothbrush. Barty blinked, confused. Then, thank Merlin, he pressed the button. The toothbrush buzzed to life, and so did Barty, vibrating enough to shake the bench.

The proximity charm Remus had placed triggered chaos to spread. Evan lifted his wand to find a TV remote. Pandora, who was unfortunately within range, looked surprised but amused as her journal had transformed into a driver’s ed manual.
It wasn’t as theatrical as opera, but it was satisfying. Remus saw the grin tugging at Regulus’s lips beside him.

Barty, still singing curses with vibrato, stormed toward the door, leaving a trail of transformed items in his wake. Slytherins watched in horror as their textbooks turned into calculus and English literature. Wands into glow sticks, straws, and–Remus intentionally included this one–a baguette, as a nod to Sirius. Potions was going to be a riot.

But it wasn’t over. This was the part Remus had waited for.

The Marauders were laughing, bewildered by the extra flair.

“Who added that?” James asked, between fits of laughter. “The toothbrush bit, was that one of you?”

None of them claimed it. Remus hid his smile behind a sip of pumpkin juice.

Then came the scampering.

The sound of tiny paws echoed through the remaining green fog. Nifflers. At least a dozen of them. They barreled toward the Marauders, launching themselves into their laps and onto their shoulders, clawing and snatching at anything shiny.

Sirius let out a startled yelp. James swatted at one as it yanked off his glasses. Peter was frantically trying to grab a niffler making off with his pocket watch.

“Bloody hell, they’re organized!” James cried.

“GET– OFF–” Sirius struggled with one clinging to his shirt buttons. Another made off with his mirror.

“Who the hell?” Peter asked aloud, baffled and breathless. “Barty’s not even around.”

“When I find the bastard–” Sirius muttered, before a niffler gave him a parting nip and darted beneath the table.

A minute later, the nifflers returned, marching in formation. The leader now wore a swanky little vest, and had donned Sirius’s rings and Peter’s pocket watch. He carried a small box, and so did the following two nifflers. Each of the three received one. They stared, dumbfounded, as the nifflers vanished into mist.

James opened his first. Inside, his golden snitch pin gleamed, but now etched with the words: “Baguette-wielding bastard.” Then it changed: “Restraint of a golden retriever.”

James burst out laughing, leaning into Peter for support as he opened his own box.

Peter’s quill leapt from the box and spelled out midair: “Not one of them, my arse.” Then: “You let my pants preserve my honor– how about I preserve it myself.”

Peter flushed as he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sirius looked down at the mirror. The glass fogged, and writing traced itself across the surface.

“You’re fucking a Marauder.” Then: “And I’m a fucking Marauder.”
Then a quick: “Still not your decision, you idiot.”

Two little hands, charmed into the reflection, flipped him off.

Remus had never seen Sirius look so completely exasperated and endeared at once.

Then Remus heard it. A lion’s growl in his ear. He barely had time to react before he and Regulus were doused from head to toe in Gryffindor-coloured glitter, accompanied by the sound of cannons.

“Bloody hell,” Regulus muttered, spitting glitter.

Remus couldn’t help but grin, despite the fact their co-conspirator status had just been revealed in front of everyone. Perhaps, they’d mistake us for rogue Hufflepuffs? He thought. Very unlikely.

Either way, the glitter cannon charm had caught the attention of his friends. He could see Sirius whip his head around and mouth “Who the fuck?”, clearly the cosmetic charms mixed with a heavy layer of glitter were throwing him off. But then he saw through it after a moment. His eyes widened with a complicated mix of betrayal and reluctant amusement.

Remus watched their shock and laughter unfold like stage curtains. One prank, then another, then the reversal of one, and the return of the other. The Great Hall was steeped in confusion, ringing ears, clouds of glitter, and pure disbelief.

Worth it. Even if I’ll be glittering for the rest of the term.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Collateral Mischief