The Marauders: Year Six #Wattys2017

Hallucinations

Hallucinations

"Well, you lot, it's finally happening." Sirius held up the letter he'd gotten that morning in the owl post and tugged the paper so it made a loud snapping sound. James groaned - he'd heard this spiel about thirty times already. "I've been offered placement in an apparating class."

Sirius grinned and Remus snatched for the parchment - and though the action was a slow, weakened one, Sirius let him have it easily. "You haven't -- seriously?" He stared down at it and, sure enough, the Ministry was conducting two sessions of apparating classes at Hogwarts this year - once in the fall and once in the spring - and all students were welcome to attend as long as their seventeenth birthdays were within the school year. Meaning that Sirius Black's November birthday put him in the Fall term's classes, while Remus and James would be in the Spring term's class and poor Peter would have to wait until next year to be taught how to disapparate.

"Merlin's beard." Remus looked up. "We're all doomed."

James laughed.

"It isn't fair," Peter moaned. "We should all wait until all four of us can take the class together!"

"You mean us three wait until you can," Sirius corrected him.

Peter turned red. "My point is that we should all do it together."

"Or I can do it this fall and disapparate all around you lame-baby bitches once I turn seventeen!" Sirius beamed.

"We'll be sure to learn side-along so you're not stranded, Pete," said James, shoving Sirius even as he said it.

Pete looked forlorn.

The four of them were sitting around a campfire, deep in the woods. It was the night of the full moon and rather than spending a night in the bomb shelter, Ned Veigler had brought the load of them for an evening at Fallengunder. They'd left Ned in the castle and trooped through the trees together for a camping trip in the forest that surrounded the castle. They were miles and miles into the thick of it, too, having travelled in animagus form, Remus clinging to the stag's neck while the rat rode, tucked safe and warm in his cardigan pocket. The trees made it dark, though the sun was still up - though she was lowering in the sky above - and they were cooking sausages on sticks over the flames, sitting on thick logs James had pushed over with his antlers before transforming back to human form.

Sirius tucked the letter back into his leather jacket's pocket and grinned around at them. "I don't understand how the adults aren't just apparating everywhere, every chance they get. I'd disapparate to Costa Rica every chance I got if I was them."

"It's hard to disapparate far away," James said. "Dad told me once the further you go, the more twisty it feels and the more likely you are to splinch."

Peter looked ill. "My dad splinched once. He still doesn't have the tip of his little finger." He shivered.

"I'll be so fucking good at it, I could disapparate clear around the globe and be fine!" Sirius declared boastfully.

Remus smirked, "Sirius, calm down, you're giving James's ego a run for it's galleons."

James laughed, "I hate side-alonging with my mum. Give me the flying motorcar anyday."

"Too bad they're illegal," said Remus.

"I want my bloody motorbike back. Gideon Prewett still has it. Bet he rides it all over, the bastard."

"I can picture that actually," James snickered.

"I'm asking for it back tomorrow when I go to see Dorcas," Sirius decided and he withdrew his stick from the fire, which he'd propped up with a stick so he could just hold it with his booted foot, and he inspected the sausages, squeezing it to check for doneness and burning his fingers, which he stuck in his mouth.