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The Artist at Work


Sirius carried the Joker’s Spellbook everywhere the next day, along with a stack of parchment that he was constantly scribbling on, thinking, making plans. Their professors thought him very studious, but really he was working on what he called “The Masterpiece”. “The Masterpiece was only said in a very reverent, almost whispered tone, as though it had already gone down in history, which, he assured Frank Longbottom at lunch, it would.

While they were waiting for this history-making plot, Frank and the other fourth years decided to do a temporary prank by turning all the Slytherins’ pumpkin juice into vinegar at breakfast that morning. “I couldn’t wait,” Frank whispered to the Marauders as the Slytherins burst into gags and chokes from across the room, “I had to do something! They ruined my slippers!”

“You and those slippers, mate,” James said, “Imagine what you’d have done if it was your quidditch robes, blimey.”

“Hopefully it’ll be as bad as what you plan to do for your quidditch robes!” he said with a wink.

“Oh no,” James shook his head, “The Masterpiece is entirely Sirius’s pet project. I haven’t had a thing to do with it. I don’t even know what it is, honestly! He won’t let anybody look at it.”

“THE ARTIST MUST WORK IN SECLUSION TO PERFECT HIS MASTERPIECE!” said Sirius, grinning.

Frank Longbottom laughed, “Well that sounds promising… But, yeah, be careful in your detention, the Slytherins might try and get you back then for the vinegar!”

James had grinned, “Bring it on.”

Remus warily watched the way Sirius’s eyes twinkled as he worked at it, torn between wanting to stop him from it and enjoying the way he looked, so boyish and excited and handsome... Sirius even brought the lot of parchment and books to the detention in Slughorn’s classroom that night, carrying the stack of them right down the dungeon stairs as all the other Gryffindors went out onto the field. The anger he felt turning into the dungeons instead of the grounds was fuel on the fire that was the revengeful side of Sirius Black…

James stared longingly after them, hesitating at the top of the steps.

“Hurry up, Potter,” Lily demanded, coming up behind him, “There’s no use staring after them. Thanks to you and your stupid git friends, we aren’t playing.”

“I wasn’t even in the room when the fight happened,” James argued, “How is this in anyway my fault?”

“Making Severus bleat like a sheep!”

“Slughorn and I had worked out a detention after the match for me before we came back and he saw the mess you lot had done! This isn’t my fault!” James said.

Lily shook her head, “If you hadn’t started it, none of this would’ve happened and we would’ve been down on the pitch right now.”

James glared at her, “Maybe Severus needs to cool his temper and learn how to take a joke!”

“Bullying him isn’t a joke,” Lily replied firmly.

James rolled his eyes. “Severus Snape is just as much a bully as we’ve been toward him. He strung Sirius up by his ankle that day in Divination, remember?”

“Because Sirius was picking on him.”

“Because he was being a git to Remus,” James said. “Sirius doesn’t take people being gits to Remus lightly. Never has. That is what this is really about. Your precious bloody Severus Snape and his stupid git friends torturing Remus about being gay.”

They’d reached the potions classroom by then and Lily stepped around James and went on up the stairs. James shook his head, “Bleedin’ women are the worst, Merlin’s beard, why do I even want that in my life? I must be mad…” and he climbed the stairs into the classroom.

Sirius had already spread his parchments all over the desk and was licking the tip of his feather quill, pulling out a little pot of red ink as James sat down. Lily had taken a seat next to Severus Snape, who offered her a little bottle of pumpkin juice and Lily happily kissed his cheek and took a long sip of it. James turned back forward so he was looking at the back of Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin’s heads. Remus was sitting at an angle so that he could stare at his book but sneak glances back at Sirius to keep an eye on what he was doing back there as he plotted.

Across the room, Evan Rosier was leaning back in his seat, one foot on the desk, smirking snarkily in the direction of the Gryffindors, his arms crossed. The way he looked - so smug and stupid over there… It made Sirius turn to the parchments with vigor. He would look up time to time just to see Rosier’s face as inspiration.

But despite all his staring, Rosier didn’t try anything at all during the detention, which was a bit unsettling. It only meant something was yet to come...

James sat in agony staring at the clock, arms stretched across the desk, gripping the far side, his face pressed to the wood. He was going mad, wondering if Gryffindor had managed to win with the replacements they’d found for Lily, James, and Sirius. What he wouldn’t have done for just the ruddy score! He fidgeted about uncomfortably. The House Cup for Gryffindor could potentially rest on the shoulders of this game against Ravenclaw, seeing as Ravenclaw was currently in the lead of the four houses for points. If Gryffindor won, they’d be in first instead for the year thus far. If they lost, Ravenclaw’s margin of lead would be such that it would be very hard for any of the other houses to catch up.

Slughorn peered over the lot of them from behind his desk, watching over them all with an air of importance.

Finally, what seemed like ages later, Slughorn announced that they were free to go and James shot out of the room like he’d been a rocket fired into space. “Holy crow!” Peter exclaimed, “Was that blur I saw just now seriously James Potter?”

“Running like tomorrow won’t catch up, yeah,” Sirius nodded.

“He wants the score of the match, I’m betting,” Remus laughed.

The Slytherins all rumbled past, laughing and staring at Sirius with daring eyes. Severus had his arm around Lily’s shoulders as he guided her out the door, offering to walk with her down to the pitch to see the score and she gooily answered it didn’t matter, she just wanted to be with him. Sirius thought that reply odd, seeing how much it mattered to Lily usually that the team did well, but he didn’t dwell on it... Peter even got caught up, thinking the other two Marauders were following behind him as he stepped out the door. But Sirius was taking longer to pack up all his parchments, trying to collect all the scribbled notes he’d made and to keep them in order. He tucked it all into his bookbag as Remus hovered by the doorway.

“Good evening Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black,” called Slughorn, ushering them out of the room, eager to get on to his office and have his dinner.

“Yeah, a grand one,” answered Sirius. If they’d lost the quidditch game - James would never shut up about it. But worse, if they won, James would still never shut up about it, worrying his security as Chaser over and over again...

They walked up the stairs together, Remus and Sirius, and out onto the grounds, toward the pitch. They could just see James and Peter far ahead, down the path, disappearing toward the entrance to the stands. They were nearly to the pitch themselves when they saw a figure walking toward them on the path. It took a moment to realize it was Marlene McKinnon and Sirius’s face turned bright red as she looked up and recognition dawned on her face.

He glanced at Remus, afraid that she might be about to bust him and James on their fantastic stories of snogging the night away with the two girls…

Maybe she won’t notice me at all, Sirius thought hopefully.

“Sirius! Hey!” Marlene called.

So much for that, he thought.

“Heyyy Marlene,” he drawled.

She hurried up to them and the two boys stopped as she arrived and - much to Sirius’s surprise - she gave him a hug. He stiffened at her touch - something about her and Lily giving him hugs was a lot harder to deal with than it was when it was him draping himself about on the other lads, and he wondered why the girls made him feel so uncomfortable when they touched him, why it made him flinch away…

Marlene finally released him. “I was hoping I’d get to see you… I heard you had detention and that’s why you aren’t playing today…” she smirked, “Disrupting class again? Or were you caught as the one who threw the fire salamanders in the Slytherin common room?”

Sirius grinned, “Oh, heard about that, have you?” he elbowed Remus. “Hear that? The whole school knows about it.”

Remus said, “Is that a good thing?”

“It means we’re famous, doesn’t it?” Sirius asked. “The stuff legends are made of…”

“It was pretty brilliant… and, considering they set that thunderstorm over Gryffindor table the other day, well deserved, too,” Marlene said.

Sirius nodded, “Exactly! Blimey, Marlene, we think a lot alike.”

Marlene said, “Yes! We do. And I just wanted to tell you - even though the tea was terribly awkward, it wasn’t you that made it so… I actually thought you were rather adorable. James was a bit of a prat, but you were really funny… and… and I hope we get to do it again sometime.” She blushed.

“Marlene, I’d like that a lot,” Sirius replied, nodding, “We should do something again sometime.”

“Groovy. Just… just let me know,” Marlene smiled brightly. “See you… Bye Remus.”

“Bye…” Remus waved and watched her go away, his stomach sort of turning at the idea that she wanted to see Sirius again sometime and Sirius wanted to see her right back. He swallowed back a lump in his throat, knowing he had only a few seconds to compose himself before Sirius would expect him to be excited about his date.

Sirius, though, did not turn to Remus and immediately start bragging about his potential for a future date with Marlene. Rather, they walked the rest of the way to the pitch in silence, which Remus couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Sirius was thinking.

They climbed the long stairs up to the spectator boxes around the pitch and made their way through the rows of bleacher-style benches until they had reached the spot where James and Peter were. Peter looked up and greeted them, but James waved his hand, “Shh!” he cried, half-standing, fists balled, watching the game. On the pitch, the players were zipping about, but the score was 130 points in Ravenclaw’s favor.

Andy Woodhouse had added Tobias Maw on as the beater, along with a sixth year girl named Patty Silverstone, and a fifth year boy named Jamie Macmillan as chasers. Jamie Macmillan wasn’t horrible, but the other two were struggling a bit. All the beating was basically up to Frank Longbottom, who simply couldn’t be in two places at once - though he was making an excellent attempt at it. He swept across the length of the pitch, waving his bat both directions, tossing it hand to hand with a flourish and a sheen of sweat hung over his brow as he spun around whichever chaser held the quaffle - which more often than not was Ali Prewett - keeping the bludgers from hitting the key players. Andy shouted directions from the goals, flying out as far as he dared, trying to shout Tobias Maw into better action. Tobias was just so nervous to have gotten another chance after losing out to Sirius Black for the second spot as beater, and the bat was a lot heavier on the broomstick than he’d really expected it to be - especially this far into the game when his arms were tired from the first half. Meg Johnson was hovering, zipping side to side, eyeing Quentin Vane, the Ravenclaw Captain and Seeker, from her spot over the game.

The lead was such that if Ravenclaw scored even two more times, catching the snitch would force a Ravenclaw win - but if Meg managed to spot it now… now she could win the game and get them out of the hole. Half the stands around the pitch were focused on Meg, shouting encouragement to her. The other half were cheering on the Ravenclaw chasers - which included Pandora Jenkins. Xenophilius stood in the front row opposite where the Marauders sat, holding up a sign he’d made, cheering her on and encouraging her to steer clear of the wrackspurts that might confuse her if she flew through their midst.

James was biting his fingernails with nervous energy. “The anxiety over this game just might kill me,” he groaned.

“What’s going to kill you,” Sirius said, “Is your breathlessness when I tell you about The Masterpiece.”

“GO MEG! BLOODY HELL GO!” James suddenly bellowed, ignoring Sirius, jumping up on the bench leaping in the air as high as he could, his finger pointing at the pitch as Meg Johnson dove, streaking across the sky, her red hair a blur of messy, frizzy curl. “GOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he screamed.

Meg and Quentin were neck-and-neck, the glimmer of the snitch just a few feet away, their shoulders touching as their paths aligned. Meg leaned forward, arm outstretched, so did Quentin, they were nearly there, nearly there… close to the ground, too, and the snitch was moving downward… and… and then Quentin suddenly jerked up, afraid of hitting the grass and Meg, too focused on the snitch to see how quick the ground was coming up at her, leaned a bit further… her fingers closed ‘round the snitch and the broomstick slammed into the ground, throwing her off and into a tumble that had her rolling quite a ways from where the broom had struck, so that she landed on her back.

Everything was silent for a moment, everyone afraid that Meg was hurt.

And then she jumped up and held up the snitch, wings fluttering between her fingers.

The crowd exploded. James was possibly the loudest of them all, although Sirius was pretty loud, distracted by the excitement from “The Masterpiece” and he high-fived James over Remus and Peter’s heads as Annalee McKinnon in the front row shrieked and danced about with McKenna Kingston and the whole of the stands cheered.

“That was fantastic!” exclaimed James later as they walked back to the castle amidst the crowd of students. “Positively fantastic. Couldn’t have gone any better, shy if we were playing it ourselves. Meg winning the game like that, though everyone else they used to replace us were playing kind of poorly… excellent.” He grinned and clapped his arm ‘round Sirius’s shoulder. “WE WON, MATE! Ahh we won!” James was grinning so hard that it looked as though he’d had a permanent smiling charm shot at his face.

Remus and Peter trailed a couple feet away from Sirius and James on the path, and a few students got between them so that they were separated and Peter scurried, trying to keep up with the other two, wanting to be a part of the excitement over the win. Remus walked up the hill, keeping his eye on their progress through the herd of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws ahead of him, but the full moon was getting nearer again and his one knee was aching so he didn’t want to run. He’d have to chew some aconite leaves that night when he got back to the dorm, he decided.

Suddenly it felt as though something had hit him square in the back and without any warning he fell forward, landing on his face in the muddy path.

“Are you alright?” a Hufflepuff girl paused to pull him to his feet.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Remus said, accepting her hand. “Just tripped is all.”

“Better watch your feet better, Puffer Fish,” Evan Rosier said as he and the other Slytherins in his gang streamed by, laughing.

“Bit clumsy aren’t we?” snickered Mulciber.

The Hufflepuff girl watched them go apprehensively, then looked at Remus and half-smiled before disappearing into the crowd.

Remus sighed. He’d completely lost the other three by now and it didn’t seem as though any of them had noticed - not even Sirius. So he made his way back to the dormitory alone, dusting himself off, trying to get all the mud away but the elbows of the white shirt under his grey sweater vest were stained with the mud from his rough landing.

“What happened to you?” Peter asked when Remus walked into the dorm. The boys were all gathered around James’s bed, the bits of parchment that made up “The Masterpiece” spread across the duvet. “You’re all muddy.”

Sirius looked over in concern.

“I just tripped is all, no big deal.” Remus didn’t want to start anything further than what was already going on between Sirius and Evan Rosier. He went over to his bed and opened his trunk, pulling out some fresh clothes and working on undoing his tie.

Sirius was pointing at the parchment, “See, if we put them there overnight, and set it up so all we need to do is say the charm next night at dinner… then….” he waved his arms about, “Utter cacophony!”

Remus shook his head, smirking to himself at the excitement in Sirius’s voice. He couldn’t help it - it was just so Sirius. The whole plot - from what he could hear of it - sounded absolutely mad, and Sirius’s tone only backed that perception up and Remus couldn’t help but wonder how much of it he would utterly disapprove of before Sirius would wind up doing it anyway… He unbuttoned the white shirt and shrugged it off, turning to hang it on the back of his desk chair.

“What in the ruddy hell is that?” called James suddenly.

Remus turned around but James, Peter, and Sirius were all looking at him and Sirius ran over and grabbed onto Remus’s shoulders, turning him around. “Those bloody bastards!” he shouted, and he ran his hands over Remus’s back. Remus’s eyes went wide at the intimate touch, his muscles all tensing up. “Those bastards, when did they do this to you? Is this why you were covered in mud? Why weren’t you going to tell me what they’ve done?”

“What are you talking about?” Remus asked.

“Didn’t you feel that?” James asked, eyes wide.

Remus twisted his neck, but of course, not being an owl, he couldn’t see his own back. “Feel what?” he asked nervously. Sirius was still rubbing at his back. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Sirius said, “It isn’t coming off.”

Peter’s eyes were wide.

“Guys?” Remus asked squeakily. “What is it? What isn’t coming off?”

Sirius looked at James. James said, “You gotta show him, mate…” And Sirius hesitantly grabbed the mirror off the wall.

Remus had a very bad feeling.

“Don’t worry, okay, we’ll get it off… and… and I’ll make The Masterpiece even better to get them back for it… but it’ll be okay. Alright? Don’t freak out,” Sirius coached him.

“Okay…”

Sirius held the mirror up at an angle so Remus could see his own back.

Stamped across his skin, right over the scars that lined him like long stripes of silver pink, were words... Halfblood Faggot. It was written in bold black letters, like a tattoo. Remus felt sick and he grabbed onto the chair. So that’s what he’d felt hit his back when he fell down - the spell that had stamped this onto his skin.