The cold evening wrapped the castle in its quiet embrace, the kind of stillness that could make even the walls seem to breathe. Snow had started falling again, lazy and delicate, each flake taking its sweet time before settling onto the ground. The world outside looked like it was being slowly swallowed by a white hush. The drizzling snow was just persistent, relentless in its gentle way, blanketing the lawns, the roofs, and the forbidden forest beyond.
Up in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, the fire crackled lazily in the hearth. James Potter lay sprawled across his four-poster bed, tossing a golden snitch into the air and catching it again, over and over. The tiny wings fluttered like trapped light, reflecting off the dim lamp glow. He looked deep in thought, but really, his mind was just blank, a rare state for him. His usual grin was missing, replaced by that vacant look that meant he was either scheming something reckless or too tired to bother pretending otherwise.
Across the room, Sirius Black's voice cut through the quiet like a bark of disbelief. "You got beaten up by that girl?" he asked, his tone a perfect mix of shock and mockery.
Peter Pettigrew, who was nursing a slightly bruised ego and an even more bruised shoulder, gave a helpless shrug. "She's something else, I'm telling you," he muttered, rubbing his arm as if reliving the hit. "Bit of trouble, that one. I thought she was cute, but I'm staying far, far away now." His voice dropped lower, more to himself than to the others, and the memory of Ren's quick reaction clearly still stung, both physically and otherwise.
"I think she's alright," came a quiet voice from the next bed. Remus Lupin didn't even look up from his book, his calm tone in stark contrast to Sirius's incredulous laughter. He was lying on his side, completely engrossed, his face soft in the lamplight, despite the faint scars he was handsome looking.
Sirius turned to him instantly, smirking. "You think even Filch is alright," he retorted, earning a round of laughter from James and Peter.
Remus smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching. He didn't bother replying; he knew better than to feed Sirius's jokes.
James, however, had suddenly sat up, eyes alight with that familiar mischievous spark. His forehead creased in thought before he said, "We have to leave now. It'd be perfect."
That was all it took. The Marauders exchanged a few knowing glances, no words needed and within minutes, they were sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room under the faint glow of the fireplace.
They crept down the empty corridors, the Marauder's Map clutched tightly in James's hand, every movement calculated yet careless in its confidence. The castle was mostly asleep, save for the faint echo of Peeves snoring somewhere near the trophy room. Sirius mimed a gag, and Peter stifled a laugh. The hallway's torches flickered dimly as they slipped past, heading for the hidden passage toward Hogsmeade.
The night outside was crisp and cutting, the air biting at their cheeks as they trudged down the narrow path. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving only streaks of purple and blue in the sky. The trees loomed like sentinels, their long shadows stretching across the snow.
"Remind me again why we couldn't do this inside where it's warm?" Peter grumbled as his breath came out in fog.
"Because Filch doesn't sneak into the forest at night," Sirius shot back, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.
"Yet," muttered James, smirking.
They finally reached a small clearing just off the Hogsmeade path, a spot they'd claimed for their secret experiments months ago. The snow here was thinner, trampled by previous visits. Remus sat down on a flat rock, pulling his cloak tighter as he watched the others prepare. James pulled out a roll of parchment, his wand, and that familiar glint of unearned confidence.
"You got the potion?" he asked, turning to Sirius, who was rummaging through his bag.
"Got it right here," Sirius said proudly, pulling out a small vial and handing it over. The liquid inside shimmered faintly pink under the moonlight.
James frowned, eyebrows knitting together as he held it up. "What in the ruddy hell is this, you moron?"
Sirius blinked, then burst out laughing. "Ah, my bad. Wrong potion." He snatched it back and replaced it with another vial, this one filled with a strange blood-red liquid, topped with a thin layer of clear fluid.
James held it up again, squinting. "This looks weird."
"It's supposed to make you transform into an animal," Sirius replied, shrugging. "What did you expect?"
James tilted it slightly, watching the two layers swirl but never mix. "No, it should be fully red. Why's it separated like this?"
The liquid glimmered oddly, like a lava lamp, thick and viscous. Even under the faint light, something about it felt… wrong.
"Perhaps we messed up again?" Peter asked, his voice shaky.
"Merlin's pants!" Sirius groaned, raking his hand through his hair. "We have to start from scratch again?"
Remus had come closer now, leaning over James's shoulder to inspect the potion. His brow furrowed in quiet disappointment. "It's separating because it wasn't stirred counterclockwise long enough during the first stage," he muttered, almost to himself. "You can't use it anymore."
James sighed deeply, staring at the vial as if sheer willpower could fix it. "Brilliant," he muttered.
Peter, meanwhile, had gone pale. "If we drank that, we'd be stuck as half-human, half-animal," he squeaked, horrified.
Sirius kicked at the snow in frustration. "We're not drinking that sludge, Peter. Even I'm not that daft."
The tension eased slightly, replaced by a shared sense of disappointment. They had been working on this Animagus potion for months, since summer, actually. Every failed batch, every late-night meeting, every bit of mischief they'd risked detention for, it was all for one purpose.
Remus, standing a few feet away now, looked at the broken vial with a faint frown. He didn't say anything, but guilt pooled in his chest. He hadn't asked them to do this, but he knew why they did. And despite the failure, despite the exhaustion, it meant more to him than he could ever say.
James noticed his expression and reached out, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Aight, let's brew it again," he said, his grin returning, stubborn and bright as always. "We'll get it right this time."
Remus managed a small smile. "I'll hold you to that."
The four of them turned back toward the castle, their footsteps crunching in the snow. For once, they didn't bother with stealth. They were too tired, too frustrated, and a little too resigned to care.
That turned out to be a mistake.
"YOU! STAND RIGHT THERE!"
The voice echoed through the cold night, shrill and unmistakable. Every single one of them froze mid-step.
"Oh, no," Peter whispered.
They didn't even need to turn around. The voice alone was enough. Filch.
Sirius groaned. "Bloody perfect timing."
James didn't hesitate. "Run!"
And they did, bolting through the stone hallway, laughter and panic mixing in the air, the sound of Filch's furious shouts chasing after them. Their robes flapped wildly behind them as they darted back toward the Gryffindor tower, half-running, half-slipping, their laughter echoing through the empty night.