Television man is crazy, saying we’re juvenile delinquent wrecks,
Oh man! I need TV, when I got T.Rex!
Remus felt strangely untethered, arriving at the Potter’s with all of his earthly possessions, moving them into a temporary room. He was going to have to tell somebody what had happened – and soon. If he could just get Mr Potter on his own, maybe… but both of James’s parents were busier than ever this year, running in and out of the house on errands, or holding secretive meetings which the boys weren’t allowed to attend.
“But we’re all of age,” James protested.
“You’re still my little boy, though,” Mrs Potter kissed his head, patronisingly, as she cleared their breakfast plates.
James looked highly insulted by this babying, but Remus’s eyes pricked with tears and he had to excuse himself.
They had a week to prepare for the camping trip, and on the very first day set off into the village to purchase a tent. Remus had never been camping in his life, but still found himself better equipped than James, Sirius or Peter, who were in turns distracted, terrified and fascinated by every single item in the shop. It fell to Remus to talk to the shopkeeper about boring things like ground sheets and pegs and rigging. In the end, he settled for two sensible brown and orange two-man tents, ignoring Sirius’s pleading that he consider a blue and green psychedelic number.
The next day, Remus had to check they all had appropriate muggle clothes, seeing as they would be using a muggle campsite, then they got a crash course in cooking from Gully the house elf.
“Can’t the girls do the cooking?” James whinged, as the foul smell of burnt eggs filled the air. Mrs Potter, who had been watching with amusement came up and slapped him lightly around the head,
“Some man I’ve raised here,” she sniffed, “If you can’t cook a young lady breakfast, don’t expect her to spend the night.”
“Urgh, Mum!” James scowled, repulsed, while Sirius and Remus were bent over laughing.
They filled the rest of the time planning all of the things they would do with their holiday freedom, watching the matinee at the local cinema (there was a Bond film playing, and Airport ‘77, which was Remus’s personal favourite) and of course, flying their brooms. Sirius was very impressed by Remus’s recent improvement, and they actually managed to organise a very small scale quidditch game (without the snitch, Peter as Keeper).
There was no sign of Moody, this summer. Mr Potter explained over dinner one night that security measures on their house had been increased, and Moody was back in the Auror’s office, managing things there. Remus was relieved - he’d tied Moody and Ferox together in his mind, muddled them all up with the Livia encounter and Dumbledore’s cruel single mindedness. All in all, after the year he’d had, Remus was looking forward to a few weeks away from anyone older than him.
It was decided that they would all apparate to Cornwall, except for Peter, who had failed his test. Mrs Potter had kindly offered to take him as a side-along, before disapparating back home, but Peter insisted on taking the Knight bus. This way, he decided, he could collect Dorcas along the way.
The evening before they were set to leave, James, Sirius and Remus squeezed themselves into the red phone box at the end of the Potter’s street to coordinate with what Sirius was calling ‘the female contingent’.
“Can I press the buttons, Moony?” James asked, running his fingers over the silvery keypad.
“Which bit do you talk into?” Sirius said, holding the receiver up to his eyes for inspection.
