The Marauders: Year Seven Part One

Just How Sure Are Ye of That?

"Well it isn't your standard langlock if it won't end with a finite incantantum," Sirius said, dropping the Charms textbook he'd yanked from Remus's bookshelf the moment they'd all returned to the Marauders' dormitory.  They'd foregone lunch to try and fix James, but there was nothing that had worked, and now the time was creeping along toward their being late. McGonagall would certainly not approve their tardiness, but, as Sirius had put it, it was just too weird having a Silent Potter and the spell needed reversing as quickly as possible.

Even if that meant facing the wrath of Minnie for being a smidgeon late.

They'd tried everything in the book, though, every reversal and tongue-release spell they could find and not a single one had done the trick. James's throat was as hopelessly closed as ever. Sirius clapped shut the book and sighed, looking at James from where he'd perched himself on the edge of the desk as James sat in a backwards desk chair, looking from one to the next of them, a fair bit desperate.

"C'mon you lot. We're the Marauders. We ca do better than this! Especially you, Remus. Any last ideas how to throw it?" Sirius looked up at Remus and Peter, whose eyes were still wide with shock at the story Remus had been telling him about how Garm had acted during DADA and how James had gotten the langlock to begin with.

"Nope," Remus replied. "I'm at my end, unfortunately mate. I reckon it's got to be some sort of personal spell, something tied to his wand or some sort of... password... or some bullocks we're never goin' to guess." He sighed.

Peter shook his head. "If Remus doesn't know, I certainly don't have a clue!"

James looked rather dejected.

"There's nothing for it mate, you'll have to go to Transfiguration and get Minnie to sort it out," Remus said. He got up and started shrugging on his jumper and grabbed his scrolls for class. "Which she might not do if we don't haul our arses down there now."

James was sure he was about to be in loads of trouble. Somehow he envisioned McGonagall's allegiance would be toward the teacher whose rule had been broken than to himself and he imagined himself (silently) sitting in a detention over the weekend.

Remus glanced at his watch. "We're late already. She'll say it serves you right." Remus tucked the stuff into his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

Sirius grinned up at the ceiling as he slid off the desk, a wistful expression on his face, "Bugger I can't wait to see Min take the mickey out of Garm..." His grin twisted with evil amusement. "Yeah... Just picture it. The poor bloke has no idea what he's in for."

James's shoulders shook with silent laughter. 

"We could sell tickets to this," Sirius said, straightening up.

Remus said, "What you could sell me a ticket to right about now is lunch, but that's alright..." Remus patted James's back. "Worth being famished for you. Sort of. Anyway. Let's go." As though in response to Remus's words, Peter's stomach growled. They all looked at him. "Bloody hell, that sounded like a damned dragon," said Remus.

"Big belly, big sounds," Sirius said, and they all laughed - including Peter, who patted his round belly affectionately.

"Poor empty bloke," Peter said, then, "Oi, I'll knick us some sandwiches and things from the kitchens while you lot go to class." The beauty of Peter's free periods was the promise of always being well fed. 

"Brilliant," Remus said.

James nodded.

"Thanks, Wormtail," Sirius said. "Hey, get some extra - If we get James's voice fixed, I vote we go out to the Shack tonight, see what the status of our clubhouse is, see what needs sprucing up before the Full Moon next week. Yeah?"