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She didn't have to see their feet poking out from the bottom of the Cloak to know that the Marauders were up to it again—their wayward whisperings attached to seemingly nobody in particular already gave them away.
But exactly what 'it' was that the four Gryffindor were up to—that was for the boys camouflaged beneath a too-small Cloak of Invisibility to know and for the rest of the school to find out. Usually in an unappetizing sort of way, and all at once, and with either great disapproval or great humour. It was all a gamble to the Marauders, but Piper knew that was what they enjoyed most: The variation.
The Great Hall was—usually, at least—rather a refuge for Piper, come nightfall. Many people spent their nights in the customary rotation of places: Their dormitories, their common rooms, their beds. Nobody thought to venture any further from the entrance to their Houses and explore the rest of the castle in the mystifying glow of the stars over Hogwarts. Piper had thought up the idea long ago and lorded it over her friends's heads as the best thought she had ever had, but usually none of them would sneak out with her. The Great Hall's open ceiling may have been an unearthly beautiful sight, but it did warrant having to sneak out past curfew and perhaps endure a lecture from a staff member if caught.
Thankfully, Piper hadn't been caught yet. However, at first, the hastened whisperings did give her pause.
"My foot," hissed an angry sort of voice. There was a moment of curious shuffling, then followed another furious grunt, the kind that was usually accompanied by a harsh glare. "My other foot!"
Piper smiled to herself, her attention on her book long ago lost to trying to place where the Marauders' shoes could be spotted.
"Apologies, there, Wormy," said a blithe tone, louder than the first voice. Clearly, this Marauder wasn't as frightened of being caught by an authority figure as any of his companions. Already, Piper placed her finger on this one: Sirius. "Hope I didn't bruise you up too horribly."
"Both of you, shut it." That was James—Piper would recognise his voice anywhere. She could practically envision the self-satisfied grin probably wrought on his face, even in the pitch black that was the Great Hall at well-past midnight. "If we get caught, there's nothing much for us to do besides accept it."
"We're not going to get caught," insisted another voice—Remus, Piper knew, was the only one of them that could manage a tone dripping in such true sarcasm. "What makes you think we'll be caught, Prongs? The fact that our toes stick out every time we walk? Or maybe it'll be Sirius's loud mouth that draws the attention of every Hogwarts staff member on night duty—"
"And me," Piper added, looking up from her book. "Don't forget me."
It was laughable to her because she didn't have to see the faces of the Marauders in order to know their reactions. Peter would have been the one to gasp, looking all about himself just the same as he would if he had seen a ghost. Sirius's shoes, visible beneath the hem of the Cloak, squeaked against the floor of the Great Hall as they turned with a start toward where Piper's voice had come from. Remus did nothing Piper could snuff out, but she knew he likely threw his head back and shut his eyes in nothing else but disappointment.
