All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Third Year : Davey Gudgeon

Remus did not change his mind.

Winter went out kicking, dragging its death throes into a rainy, dreary March. The marauders celebrated Lupin’s birthday as usual: serenades at every meal, an extravagant cake, a pile of presents. There were no more midnight firework shows, as McGonagall was anticipating their celebration this year and made sure to have a prefect watching the boys’ dorms. Sirius was unhappy about that, at first—until he realized that McGonagall must have Remus’s birthday marked somehow on her calendar, which amused him immensely.

Luckily, Lupin’s birthday was on a Hogsmeade weekend, which meant the marauders had plenty of alternative options for celebrating. They spent most of the day in the Three Broomsticks, drinking butterbeers on the house from the steady stream of students that they had cajoled, threatened, and sweet-talked into popping by to wish Remus a happy birthday. With every new drink, Sirius would cry,

“A toast to the Birthday Boy!”

Which made Remus blush bright red and ensured that the entire bar knew his name by the end of the afternoon. They left to a chorus of cheers, which Remus insisted was horrifyingly embarrassing even as he smiled.

Although it had been an altogether lovely day, Sirius went to bed that night feeling frustrated. Or rather—he went to James’s bed. Potter barely had time to cast the silencing spell before Sirius was speaking.

“We’re doing it.”

“What?”

“We’re doing it. It’s been enough time.”

“Oh,” James blinked owlishly, frowning, “Are you sure? He seemed really happy today, maybe if we just wait a bit longer—”

“It’s been months!”

Sirius had already made up his mind. They had waited out the rest of winter according to James’s guidance—he thought that if they showed Lupin that he could trust them, and reminded him what great friends they all were, then Remus would eventually soften to the animagi idea and agree to help them do it. But after his birthday, Sirius really didn’t see what more they could do to convince Moony to trust them; he was far too stubborn for his own good, and Sirius had had quite enough of waiting.

“Look,” he huffed, frustrated, “Maybe Moony’ll change his mind, and maybe he won’t. Either way, I’m doing it. So you can join me if you like, or you can back out, but I’m not waiting any more. If we’re doing this, we need all the time we can get.”

James sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair. He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of becoming animagi when Remus had asked them not to; at the same time, he was quite obviously desperate to turn into an animal. It was just so cool.

“Fine,” he acquiesced, as Sirius knew he would, “Let’s do it.”

“Brilliant! I was thinking we could—”

“Oi, we’re not starting tonight—I’ve got quidditch in the morning!”

Sirius rolled his eyes, and James shoved him.

“We can talk to Pete tomorrow and figure out how to get started then. Deal?”

Sirius groaned, flopping dramatically back onto the mattress.