Time seemed to speed up after Remus' birthday. The days lengthened and spring rushed into the castle, flooding it with sunlight and fresh air after the long winter. Exams loomed, and Remus finally got over his anxiety around reading in public, spending more and more time in the library. Instead of planning new schemes and pranks, the marauders found their evenings devoted to practicing spells and quizzing each other on potion ingredients.
Sirius and James took the exams very seriously; it was a competition to them. Though they both would have denied vehemently, Remus suspected that they both had a desire to defend their pureblood honour – it was too ingrained as an attitude throughout the school, even amongst the teachers. It didn't bother Remus – even if he wasn't getting top marks in everything, he was still doing better than he ever had before. He was actually glad that he had no family to pressure him.
The pressure on Peter was all too evident. He wasn't a bad student by any means – in Herbology and Astronomy he even flourished, often beating James. But he was nervous, and it tended to affect his wand work, making his incantations sloppy. Peter didn't talk about his family very much, but he received a lot of letters from them, and Remus noticed that James was careful around the subject.
"How much do we need to pass the year?" The round face boy would ask desperately, at least four times a day.
"Peter, calm down," James would sooth, "You're going to be fine; you know all the theory backwards now, it's just putting it into practice."
"I don't blame him for being a bit twitchy," Sirius whispered to Remus when the other two were out of earshot, "There've been at least twelve squibs in the Pettigrew family – and that's just this century."
"Squibs?"
"Non-magical wizards." Sirius explained, patiently, "You know how muggle families sometimes have magical kids? It works the other way too – no one likes to talk about it much. My great, great uncle actually had this mad theory that muggles were swapping their children with ours so that they could infiltrate the wizarding world. Completely bonkers, obviously."
"Right." Remus replied, hoping he sounded as if he understood everything Sirius had just said. "So that's why Peter's magic is a bit... wonky?"
"I dunno," Sirius shrugged, "Maybe. I don't know if they can actually prove that squibbishness runs in families. But it's the reason the Pettigrews aren't in the sacred twenty-eight."
Remus sighed heavily, fixing Sirius with his most withering look,
"You know I don't know what that is."
Sirius smirked,
"Well I don't know, Lupin, what with all that reading you do these days. Nice to know there are some things I've got over you."
Remus snorted in reply, looking back at his work. Sirius carried on quickly, as if reluctant to lose
the other boy's attention,
"The sacred twenty-eight are the purest of the pure-bloods. The last remaining 'un-tainted' families."
Remus gave Sirius another mean look. The dark-haired boy held his hands, up, hurrying to explain, "Their words, not mine! You know I don't believe any of that blood purity rubbish."
"Right," Remus raised an eyebrow. "Bet the Blacks are top of the list, though."
"Actually," Sirius replied, eyes glittering with humour, "The Abbot's are first. It's alphabetical." Remus groaned and went back to his Potions revision.
***
Exams were not at the top of Remus' list of things to worry about. He was relatively sure he would do ok – he'd even checked the examination rules (which were five yards of parchment in length) and confirmed that use of the Scriboclara charm for tidying up handwriting was acceptable, as long at the student was able to perform the spell by themselves. Remus had been using the spell since November, and had no concerns.
Two things were worrying Remus far more than passing the year. First, there was the grim knowledge that he would have to return to St Edmund's in June. Though he had only been away for a few months, the difference between St Edmund's and Hogwarts seemed as vast as the difference between monochrome and technicolour. While other students cheerfully looked forward to a long, hot summer full of holidays abroad, relaxation and lie ins, Remus felt as though he was facing exile.
They weren't permitted to perform any magic outside of Hogwarts until they were seventeen, which meant that as well as losing contact with his friends, Remus would no longer be able to read. To him, summer stretched ahead, blank and desolated, punctuated by long angry nights locked away in his cell.
And there was Remus' second problem, ready as always to rear its ugly, hairy snout. As Madam Pomfrey had predicted, since Remus had turned twelve his transformations had become much, much worse. There was no explanation for this in any of the books he read, other than some vague words about adolescence and puberty. Whereas before he might have come away with a few teeth and claw marks – the kind you'd get from a playful puppy who meant no real harm – he now awoke with deep, furious gashes which bled copiously until Pomfrey arrived to staunch them. The agony of the transformation itself reached almost intolerable levels, and he often felt queasy for hours before the moon rose.
To make matters worse, Remus was spending longer stretches in the hospital wing, and it was getting harder and harder to explain away. His friends had started wondering aloud about what on earth could be ailing him – sometimes suggesting he was putting it on to get out of lessons, other times teasing him about being contagious.
At least back at St Edmund's he didn't have any friends who cared where he went every month.
Sirius clearly wasn't looking forward to the summer either. He grew uncharacteristically quiet whenever the upcoming holiday was mentioned, his eyes clouding over, the colour leaving his face. James invited all of them to stay at his for as long as they wanted – but Sirius remained pessimistic.
