Monday, February 4 (Sixth Year) (Full Moon)

Padfoot

Each of us has about ten dung bombs stuffed in the pockets of our robes, and we're sneaking toward Filch's office with the Marauder's Map open, watching for approaching students. It's our way of christening the newly finished map, and we're all feeling very mischievous and rather excited. The hallway's deserted, but we can hear students streaming through nearby corridors. That's the really risky part, and why we're depending on the map so much—the castle's active, so anyone could walk up on us.

"Anyone?" James asks Peter, who volunteered to be in charge of the map. He shakes his head, keeping his eyes fastened to the map; he doesn't want to screw this up.

We reach Filch's door, and just when Remus is carefully opening it so we can sneak in, Peter hisses, "Peeves!"

Remus shuts the door with a snap, and we start to bolt down the hall, but it's too late. "Oooh, Peevesie smells trouble, what are you four doing near Filchie's office?" he asks in a singsong, floating cross-legged in the air in front of us, sporting a large spinning bow-tie and a brightly colored outfit.

"Peeves..." I murmur, my tone half aggravated and half warning.

"Should tell Filch about this, I should," he cackles, turning over sideways in the air.

"Peeves, don't!" Peter begs.

I honestly don't get Peeves. He's a lot like us—all five of us like chaos, after all. But he's happy to get students into trouble indiscriminately. He doesn't even have a problem harassing the professors. There's almost no reasoning with him. Almost.

As he takes in a breath to yell for Filch, I say hurriedly, "Peeves, don't—we'll give you our dung bombs!"

He stops, looking at me, obviously tempted. "Dung bombs... Peeves should tell, he should, but..." He cackles evilly, turning right-side-up and sticking out his hands. "Gives them to us, then!"

James looks at me like I'm mad, but I just shrug. If it gets Peeves out of the way... Besides, the poltergeist is likely to cause more trouble with them than we would, running no risk for us in the process. I empty my pockets of all but two dung bombs, watching the other Marauders dump theirs in Peeves' hands.

The poltergeist takes them happily, chortling to himself, but then he pauses and gives us a suspicious glare, looking at us sternly. "Gives them all, now, wouldn't want Peevesie to yell for Filch!"

I can't help but feel a little impressed. Peeves doesn't seem to be all that bright when you think about it—he just lives for trouble—but he's smarter than you'd think. I pull out my remaining dung bombs, and James pulls out two of his own. Remus and Peter turn their pockets out, showing them to be empty already.

Peeves takes the remaining dung bombs and they disappear in his hands. Then he dives down at Peter, screeches "Got your conk!" and disappears.

"That was close," Remus sighs, grinning. He looks peaky because of the moon tonight, but still satisfied. "Not what we were planning, but I'm sure Peeves will put those to good use." Peter's rubbing his nose with his free hand, grimacing after Peeves' joke. He's still got the Marauder's Map clutched in his other hand.

"So much for christening the map," James frowns.

"You four," an oily voice from behind us says. I instantly know who it belongs to. Snivellus. I turn around to face the greasy git. "Obviously up to no good." He glances down toward Peter's hands, and I realize he's looking at the Marauder's Map. I snatch it away from Wormtail, tapping it with my wand and hissing "Mischief managed" under my breath. It turns blank instantly.

"What do you want, Sniv—Snape?" James asks, catching himself before using our little nickname for the Slytherin. I'm not sure if he stopped in an attempt to avoid trouble or because of Lily's influence. Probably the latter.

Snivellus ignores him entirely, glancing at Remus. "Not looking too good, are you, Lupin?" he asks nastily. I have a very bad feeling about the tone of his voice.

Remus, though, seems to take it in stride. "Aw, I never knew you cared." I can't help snorting—I couldn't have thought of a more perfect response. Snivellus stiffens, surprised at the turnaround, but shortly recovers and gives us one of his better glares.

I hear footsteps behind us Marauders, and the look on Snivellus' face tells me that I won't be glad to find out who's approaching. I look over my shoulder and see Filch making his way toward us. He looks like he's caught the scent of trouble, and is anticipating giving any student he can detention.

"Mr. Filch, the piece of parchment they have—I think it's some sort of map, but they made it vanish," Snivellus says instantly, his voice greasy and highly satisfied.

My nostrils flare, but then I think, No reason to worry yet—I cleared the map.

"Mr. Black, give me the parchment—and turn out your pockets, all four of you," Filch tells us, sounding almost as satisfied as Snivellus. Suddenly I'm very glad that Peeves has taken all our dung bombs; he's saved us a load of trouble. I reluctantly hand over the map and empty my pockets. The only things remaining in them are some lint and a bottle of ink. James, Remus, and Peter turn out their pockets, as well.

Filch is clearly disappointed that we aren't carrying anything incriminating. He takes out his wand, tapping the Marauder's Map. "Reveal yourself!" He only seems to be giving this a half-hearted try. It's no big secret that he's a Squib. The map remains blank. Shame; we had such good insults built in for him.

"I saw it," Snivellus says matter-of-factly, in case Filch needs more reason to believe we were up to trouble.

"Of course, of course," he says huffily, stuffing the map into a pocket and glaring down at us. "I'll be confiscating this—off, the lot of you, before I give you detention!"

I exchange an incredulous stare with James. What? Filch can't just confiscate the map! We only just finished it—he has no proof of what it is!

"Didn't you hear me? Get!" Filch tells us, aggravated.

We turn, sullen, and march away. I don't try to step around Snivellus, just let my shoulder slam into his on my way past. As soon as we're out of earshot, I complain, "I can't believe that little slug! And Filch! We just finished the map!"

"We didn't even get to use it properly," Peter adds mutinously.

"We know the whole school, the grounds, and Hogsmeade by the backs of our hands," Remus says calmly. He doesn't seem half as upset as I am. "All we really need to use it for is seeing if someone's sneaking up on us, and we can always use old-fashioned look-outs—or James' cloak."

"That's not his point," James replies. Even he doesn't look as upset as I am, but at least he seems to be giving it a better effort than Moony. "The nosy git got the map confiscated after all the work we've spent on it, and now what use'll it go to? Filch couldn't figure it out even if he wasn't a Squib, so it'll just sit in a drawer somewhere."

Remus shrugs. "You never know—someone may sneak into his office and find it."

I just stare at him and shake my head disbelievingly. Must be the full moon tonight... He's not thinking straight.

* * *

"Sirius!" Peter's pudgy face is lit up with worry as he catches up with me, breathless. He puts a hand on my arm, leaning forward a bit as he catches his breath.

"What is it?" I ask, trying not to drop my books. I'm on my way to the library. I have some homework due Friday that I've been putting off almost all month, but it's got to be some sort of new record that I'm giving myself four nights to get it done this time. Turns out all it took to make me a good (or at least better) student is James and Lily making moon eyes at each other all the time.

"I saw—Snape—" he manages breathlessly, "in the—Hospital Wing asking Madam—Pomfrey—about Moony—"

My blood runs cold. The nosy git! Spying on Remus last month was bad enough, but now he's asking Madam Pomfrey about where she takes Moony? I shake my head in disbelief. This is worse than getting Filch to confiscate the Marauder's Map during afternoon break. "What did she say?" I ask, my voice chill in my ears.

He seems to be regaining his breath. "She told him it's none of his business," he answers. "And told him to go find something else to do."

I shake my head again. I can't believe this. I have to do something about Snivellus. He's getting out of hand. Following us around all the time, hoping to get us in trouble, and now he's snooping around Moony, trying to figure out his secret!

Well, if he wants to know, let him. I grin maliciously. "Let the nosy git figure out Moony's secret. We'll show him."

"What?" Peter asks, shell-shocked—he obviously thinks I've lost my mind.

"If he wants to know where Remus goes off to every month, we'll tell him how to get in to find out. See how he likes facing a werewolf, hm?" I brush my hair out of my eyes, grinning to myself as I figure out how this is going to work. In around an hour, Madam Pomfrey will take Remus down to the Whomping Willow. I have to find Snivellus before then.

Wormtail looks hesitant. "Okay," he says, drawing the word out uncertainly. I hardly pay him any attention.

"I'm going to find Snivellus," I tell him, and I walk off down the hall, leaving him behind. He doesn't follow, which doesn't bother me. I'm busy thinking about what, exactly, to tell Snivellus.

It takes me a while to find him, and again I curse having lost the Marauder's Map—it would have made all this that much easier. All the more reason to let Snivellus get what he deserves. I finally find him haunting the second-floor corridor that has windows facing the Forbidden Forest, obviously waiting to see if Madam Pomfrey is going to show Moony across the grounds this evening. His hair is as greasy as ever, hanging in shiny strands around his sallow face. His expression always seems to be an oily sneer—except, of course, when we wipe it from his face with a particularly good insult.

"Snivellus," I greet him with a snarl. He jumps a little, startled, and turns to face me.

"Black," he says, as if he has just caught a whiff of something particularly disgusting. That'll be that hair of his.

"What're you hanging around here for?" I ask, glaring. Before he can reply, I continue, "If you want to find out where Remus gets to every month, all you've got to do is follow him to the Whomping Willow and prod the knot on its trunk with a long stick."

He looks decidedly suspicious. "Like I'd believe you."

I shrug. "I don't really care if you believe me. I just figure—hey, maybe if you know, you'll stop following us around everywhere like you fancy us or something."

"Watch your tongue, Black!" he snaps, pulling out his wand. "You think a little too highly of yourself!"

I grin, pleased, and draw my own wand. "If you want a fight, I'd be glad to oblige. But if you can't put your wand where your mouth is, I'll just be on my way. I've got better things to do."

He positively fumes, but he doesn't move to attempt hexing me, so I turn on my heel and walk away.