Four To The End (prev Shifting Lines) Book Three (Marauders Era)

Chapter One Hundred-Nineteen - Three Hundred

Monday seemed to be spent slowly sliding back into their usual Marauder selves. Peter still didn't really look at Remus, but now it didn't bother him; especially since Pete happily chatted to him. James and Sirius were the same as they were a week ago before everything came out, and Remus hoped things would continue like this.

Except he didn't know what to do about Fawley. He doubted he'd be able to hide what happened. Showing off his boggarts, seeing Sirius's, and finding out the truth. If Fawley did know what Sirius went through... would she try to do something about it? She of all people knew how vicious the Blacks could be, so perhaps she'd understand.

Monday also marked the countdown to the next Quidditch game. Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff, and it would determine whether or not Gryffindor had a chance to win the cup. If Ravenclaw got more than two hundred points... then the final game, between Gryffindor and Slytherin, would most likely determine whether Ravenclaw or Slytherin won. Unless Gryffindor won by an enormous amount which was not very likely.

After a long supper full of discussion about the game, Remus was glad to disappear into the library with Jean-Marie who didn't want to discuss Quidditch at all except to tell Remus he was secretly rooting for Hufflepuff, although wouldn't say why other than he had problems with one of the members of the Ravenclaw team.

"This sport never interest me much back in France," he said, twirling a quill between his fingers. "Though I do miss balaiàleau."

Remus frowned, trying to make sense of the word Jean-Marie said. "Something about brooms and water?"

"Ahh, yes, I do not know what it would be called here. It is... based on a saying about the broom brushing over water," Jean-Marie explained. "It is a game we would play at Beauxbatons. You attach a string to your broom and you fly low over the lake—ah, the lake at Beauxbatons is a pond compared to yours here—and the winner is who gets the most of the string wet without getting their broom wet. It takes very much a lot of focus." Jean-Marie winked. "Especially on a windy day. Do you fly? Would you like to play?"

Remus went a bit pink and he quickly shook his head. "I can't fly. I'm not—no, sorry, I'm not good at flying. I'd crash into the water right away. But wouldn't most of the string get wet anyway, as it soaks up water? You wouldn't have to fly right above the water. It would go up on the string anyway, wouldn't it?"

Jean-Marie shook his head. "Non. We put spells on it, so it stays where it touches. The water on the string, I mean."

"Oh. That sounds very interesting. What sort of spell?"

They discussed various spells for the rest of their time there, not at all touching Jean-Marie's homework. When their usual tutoring time was over, they gathered their things and Jean-Marie said he was glad Remus was feeling better.

"You did not come on Thursday," he pointed out. "Then you did not meet with my uncle yesterday. I am glad you are better."

"Thank you. Erm, I'm sorry about Thursday—"

"It is fine," he promised. "Though I do not think your friend like me."

"Sirius?"

Jean-Marie shrugged. "He calls me bread."

Remus tried not to groan. "He—he said that to your face?"

"Oui." Jean-Marie laughed. "Do not look so cross. It does not bother me. A lot of boys do not like me."

"Oh. Erm. Wh-why?"

"Because I am looking so much better than them," Jean-Marie said simply. "I believe that is why Mr. Black does not like me. I am looking better than him? Don't you think?"