Wednesday 8th January 1975
Dumbledore was quite right - the Fraser family’s murder was front page news on boxing day, followed by a series of features and articles on the mounting war, which dominated the rest of the Christmas break.
It was the first time Remus - or any of them - ever saw the dark mark, and they had no idea then that it was a symbol they would fear for the rest of their lives. A great black skull with a gaping mouth, and a long ropey serpent writhing forth. It was distinctly Slytherin-esque, and as soon as they were back at Hogwarts Sirius blasted the remaining snake motifs off of his trunk.
“Careful, mate,” James said, as smoke from Sirius’s spell filled the room, “You might be ruining a family heirloom there.”
“I don’t give a shit.” Sirius replied, firing his wand at the blackened wood once more, for good measure, “It’s mine, and I don’t want anything of mine to have that ruddy mark on it.”
It was pointless trying to reason with him. Since Dumbledore’s visit to the Potters Sirius’s hatred for anything remotely Slytherin had increased tenfold. He had been using hexes to defend younger students from Slytherins all year, but now he seemed to be actively seeking out trouble.
“The war isn’t happening here .” Remus tried telling him once, after his third detention in as many days, “Dumbledore told us to be vigilant, not start fights.”
“The war is everywhere.” Sirius replied, and James nodded in agreement. “Anyway, you can talk, what about you and Snape?”
“That,” Remus replied, piously, “Was personal.”
It was true; he didn’t hate Snape because he was a dark wizard, or a Slytherin, or anything like that. Remus didn’t like Snape because he was a nosey busybody - that, and nobody really liked Snape, except Lily.
Actually, Remus thought to himself, as he looked across the common room at Lily, sitting by Marlene working on some sort of transfiguration spell on a pair of shoes, even Lily hadn’t been hanging around Severus very much these days. Perhaps they’d fallen out. The redhead looked up and met his eyes, smiling brightly. He smiled back. James, sitting next to him, waved, and Lily rolled her eyes and returned to the spell she was working on.
“Doesn’t she know how much I’ve matured?” James sighed, heavily, thumbing the pages of his textbook roughly.
“I dunno if snogging a muggle in the back of the cinema really counts as maturing.” Remus replied, rescuing the manhandled book and smoothing down the corners James had bent.
“I didn’t mean that ,” James grinned, “Just like… in general. I don’t get it, I get on with Marlene ok.”
“You’re on the quidditch team with Marlene,” Peter said, “You’ve got stuff in common with her.”
(Peter had become very wise, since getting a girlfriend.)
“So, what,” James said, slowly, “You think I should try and get Lily on the quidditch team?”
Peter tutted, pitifully,
“Why don’t you find out something you both have in common? Like how me and Desdemona both like chess, and cheese sandwiches, and--”
“We’ve got nothing in common,” James replied, dreamily, “That’s why I like her.”
“Never going to happen, then.” Peter sniffed, with an air of finality. James looked crestfallen.
“Don’t listen to him,” Remus said, taking pity, “People don’t just go out with people because they’re the same, that would be boring. Opposites attract, and all that.”
