the cadence of part time poets

Chapter 64: Crescendo

I don't mind other guys dancing with my girl,
That's fine, I know them all pretty well;
But I know sometimes I must get out in the light,
Better leave her behind with the kids, they're alright...

- "The Kids Are Alright" The Who, 1966

Thursday 16th June 1977

When Professor McGonagall asked him to come to her office on the eve of their last night at school, Remus assumed it was because she'd finally decided on his punishment for almost sending Barty to an early grave. After two weeks with no word on the matter, he'd almost let himself believe that she'd forgotten the whole thing, which was laughable. Their Headmistress had a memory like an elephant and a penchant for justice much stronger than any London police officer. That, combined with her calling him in to the main office so close to summer holiday could mean only one thing: that he was not going to be returning to Hawkings Independent School next term.

It was pleasing at least, to look up at the glass cabinet behind McGonagall's desk and see the shiny new first place trophy the boys' football team had earned at their end-of-year tournament. James had been ecstatic over the win and arrived back at school the day before, waving the thing over his head while the whole team cheered. He'd spent the rest of the day touring the grounds with it and accepting praise from all the teachers before promptly passing out for a nap that was now going on eighteen hours long. Peter had stopped packing a few times just to make sure James was still breathing and afterwards Sirius had gotten the bright idea of sticking a pair of tampons up his nose to see if they'd make him snore even louder. (Where he'd gotten the tampons, Remus had no idea, but his hypotheses was correct; by the time Remus had left the dorm, James was snoring like a chainsaw.)

In the time since, Remus had started his walk over to Castle Hall, resolving not to tell any of his friends about his sure-to-be expulsion while they were still at school. He didn't want to be the one to ruin their last night together; instead he'd write them each a letter once he was home. At least that way they'd have the summer to forget about him. Only, Remus hadn't been counting on McGonagall's personal peculiarities, and unbeknownst to him, was walking into a much stranger conversation.

"You want me to do what?" He demanded.

Professor McGonagall gave him a tight-lipped smile. "It's very simple, Mr. Lupin. I want you to spend your final year at Hawkings as a school prefect."

Oh Christ.

Remus slapped his forehead. "You've got to be joking."

"Oh, but I assure you, I am not."

"But I thought you were going to expel me—I punched a kid!" Two, if he were being honest.

"Do you still wish to be expelled, Remus?"

Quickly, he shut his mouth. "No..."

"Then I assume this is an arrangement that works for both parties."

"But I am not prefect material!" Remus blabbed. "Prefects are—are—smart!"

McGonagall cracked another smile, this one of the snide sort that said she knew everything. "You are very intelligent, if your marks this term are anything to go by. In fact I believe congratulations are even in order, good show. Are there any other prefect-like qualities you don't claim to adhere to?"

"Yes! They care about things like—like extracurriculars, which I do not—no offence. They're like professional babysitters, and I'd probably kill a baby as soon as it looked at me."

"I assure you, there will be no babies," McGonagall chuckled. "Only your fellow classmates."

"Okay, but—but prefects are just so uncool—and they're also stuck-up and bossy!"