In a miserable twist of fate, the December 1977 full moon fell on Christmas Day. The marauders all agreed to stay at Hogwarts for the duration, with a plan to travel back to the Potter’s on Boxing Day. Lily made them all promise that they would meet up as soon as possible in Diagon Alley,
“It’s the only place my parents will let me go by myself,” she explained to Remus, “I wanted to come to the Potters too, but they’re protective and they haven’t met James yet.”
“Why not invite James to yours?” Remus suggested. Lily bit her lip and shrugged.
“It’s just a bit tricky. Maybe for Easter break.”
It was a cheerless Christmas, really. James was missing Lily, Peter obviously wished he was at home, not stuck at school, Sirius was anxious and jittery whenever he and Remus were in the same room with someone else, and Remus himself was grumpy and irritable, waiting for the moon to take hold.
They didn’t do anything very Christmassy, either, other than go down for lunch with the other students who had stayed. They had promised Mrs Potter not to exchange gifts until they could all be together.
“I feel awful.” Remus sighed, as he wound his scarf around his neck, ready to start heading towards the shack ahead of his friends. “You lot should be at home. I could have stayed by myself – or used your attic again, Prongs.”
“Don’t be silly,” James shook his head manfully, “I know how bad it is for you, in the attic, tied down like that. The shack is the best place – at least we can all run about a bit.”
And he was right, of course. They all needed a good run, and in the morning, Remus woke up and looked at his friend’s rosy, grinning faces, and knew they all felt much better for it.
They couldn’t leave immediately, of course, Madam Pomfrey would not allow it. Remus was prescribed his usual morning of sleep, and he hoped that the other marauder’s had taken the opportunity to do the same.
When he woke up in the infirmary, Sirius was sitting in the chair next to him, grinning, two suitcases at his feet.
“Ready when you are!” He said, cheerfully, and Remus felt a pang of guilt again. Sirius needed to get home to the Potters’ just as much as James did.
“Have you packed for me?” Remus sat up, blinking, “Blimey.”
“Of course I haven’t,” Sirius snorted, “Prongs did. I made sure he got the book on your bedside table, though.”
Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius raised a hand, “And the one under your pillow. Don’t worry, Moony, nothing gets past me.”
“Cheers,” Remus smiled. “Just let me get dressed, then…”
“Sure you’ll be ok to floo?” Sirius asked, as Remus swivelled out of the bed, his bare feet landing on the cold flagstones. He felt a bit weak and woozy, but no worse than usual. He nodded,
“Yeah. Apparated after a full moon once, remember?”
“Ok. But you should say, if you don’t feel up to it.”
“I will. Pass my jeans, will you?”
Sirius complied. Remus dressed, slowly, checking his body with every stretch and turn, making sure everything was working as it should be. He was starving hungry, but willing to wait for Mrs Potter’s cooking. “Where are the others?” Remus asked, bending now to tie his shoelaces.
“Common room,” Sirius replied. He held up his silver compact mirror, “I’m to let Prongs know when we’re on our way to McGonagall’s office, they’ll meet us.”
