Friday 15th October 1971
Remus had to spend the next few days avoiding Sirius – or at least avoiding being alone with him. This wasn’t easy, the boys spent all their time together, especially on the weekends. They all got through the Friday Charms lesson with no trouble; even Peter. Flitwick was thrilled that the entire class had mastered levitation so early in the year that he let them all out early for lunch.
Sirius made himself unavoidable the very next week, during their flying lesson. If Remus hadn’t hated History of Magic so much, then Flying would have been his least favourite subject. Twenty minutes into their very first lesson with Madam Hooch he had learnt that he was afraid of heights, and the rest of the classes had been miserable for him.
James was the star of the class, of course, and even the other Marauders found him insufferable as he flitted around the quidditch pitch, throwing loops and feints as if he was born on a broom. Sirius was excellent too, and most of the other kids in the class had grown up playing on broomsticks; even Peter was competent.
It had rained the night before, and the ground was soft and muddy. They’d changed out of their usual lace up shoes and into thick boots and scarlet flying kits before squelching out onto the pitch. They picked up their brooms and awaited instruction. The brooms were provided by the school. First years weren’t allowed to bring their own, but James would tell anyone who stopped long enough to listen that he had a top of the line model at home.
“Right, mount your brooms please, ladies and gentlemen,” Hooch bellowed at the group, “Nice strong wind today, so I want you all to take good care. Potter, no showing off!”
Remus clambered onto his broom, swallowing hard. If he could manage not to be sick then it would be a victory.
“I’d like five clean laps around the pitch, then a good landing back here from each of you. Mind the puddle and remember to lean into the wind where possible. Use it to your advantage. Five points to whoever’s back first.” And with barely any warning, the silver haired witch blew her whistle hard.
Remus and Lily, the only two muggleborns in the class, were the last off the ground. Once the redhead was in the air, however, she streaked ahead with ease.
“Bit higher, Lupin! Come on now!” Hooch boomed from below, shouting through a megaphone. He wanted to ignore her, but there was no escape – at least back at St Edmund’s when they made you do cross country you could hide around the corner and skive off in town for the afternoon.
He pushed himself higher, trying to look ahead and not down; trying to think about anything other than the empty space between himself and the ground. He could see Lily’s bright red plait flashing ahead like a fox’s tail, Peter’s shining blond hair somewhere towards the middle of the group. Though he couldn’t see that far ahead, he knew that James and Sirius were almost neck and neck. Remus just ploughed on grimly, not wanting to go any faster. Who cared if he was last, if he didn’t break his neck getting there. As he rounded a corner at the end of the pitch, the wind really hit him and he tried not to slow down too much, leaning forward. It was so cold, and the grey morning air battered his face.
The second lap was as bad as the first. By the third, he noticed that James had taken to circling each of the towers in the empty spectator stands, despite Madam Hooch’s admonishments. On the fourth lap, Remus had company.
“Having fun?” Sirius grinned, cruising along beside him. He looked so comfortable, as if he could raise both hands over his head, spin upside down and fly backwards without any trouble at all.
“What are you doing?” Remus frowned, trying to ignore him. “Trying to lose?”
“James is gonna win,” Sirius shrugged, “Might as well let him have his moment. Thought I’d hang out with you.”
