ᴅɪsᴘᴇʟ ᴍʏ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅᴏᴍ | ᴍᴀʀᴀᴅᴇᴜʀs' ᴇʀᴀ

Chapter 3: The Right of the First Strike

"Malfoy? Bloody Sprinkles!"

"Maybe she's out of respect for him–"

"She's not capable of respect," Sirius replied bitterly. "Let's go, I hope Moony and Wormtail didn't wake up in bed with McGonagall."

"I'd prefer McGonagall rather than Snivellus," James said gloomily. Sirius just looked at him sympathetically.

✨✨✨

"Where have you been?" Lupin and Peter rushed to their friends as they entered their dorm.

"Merlin! Let's stop talking in chorus!" Sirius growled, falling on his bed and immediately grabbing the wand from the nightstand, squeezing it in his hands as if afraid of losing it forever. James repeated his maneuver.

"So what happened?" Remus sank down beside them.

James and Sirius began retelling the events that accompanied their awakening.

"And I don't know how we ended up there. Apparently, neither Malfoy and Snape do," Sirius finished.

"So he stroked your back?" Peter giggled.

"Peter! Don't remind me!" Black jumped on the bed.

"Okay, okay. Guys, we need to go down for breakfast, so clean yourself up. By the way, what is it?" Lupin leaned over, peering at Sirius's shoulder. "You have the same thing, James."

Both looked puzzled at each other and gave out an indignant scream. On their collarbones Potter and Black had two tiny blue-green letters.

"AB?! This... this brainless nargle tattooed his signature on us?!"

"So that's what he called a preemptive blow?! I'll rip his liver out!" boys unsuccessfully tried to erase the inscription. "What?!"

"Nothing," gloomy Lupin answered hesitantly. "If AB has done it, the whole school already knows."

 Having exchanged glances and hastily grabbed the clothes, Marauders ran to the Great Hall, dressing on the move.

✨✨✨

Suspiciously loud buzz of voices was coming from the Great Hall. AB's mark hung in the air above the Gryffindor table. 

Crowded students looked at something with enthusiasm, passing it from hand to hand. Even Slytherins showed curiosity and stood side by side with other houses, forgetting about their arrogance.

Black and James broke through the crowd like a hurricane, searching for the subject of gossip. Two photos.

Pulling the compromising evidence off the hands of some first-year, they stared at themselves, lying in embrace with Malfoy and Snape. 

"Let me pass!" Malfoy broke through the crowd. Tearing one of the photos out of Black's hands, he froze in horror. A signature was on the reverse side: "Good morning, your AB".

Suddenly Malfoy yelled, "It's not a Quidditch championship, nothing interesting here!"

Students reluctantlybegan to retreat. Malfoy stared at James and Sirius in rage. They answered with an equally menacing look.

"I'll burn it," the Slytherin said coldly. "Don't worry, I have no intention to leave it to myself."

And he withdrew from the Hall with a sweeping step.

"What are you looking at? Go!" Black clasped his hands.

Whispering crowd gradually resolved. Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors looked sympathetically. Slytherins didn't know whether to rejoice in the disgrace of Marauders or get upset because of Malfoy's failure. Ravenclaws watched with interest, their gaze even acquired some maniacality.