Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

The Sorting

Lupin was buried deep within the other students, looking down and moving his mouth as though someone was talking to him. A pity that lonely children must speak to themselves, he thought. Once Remus decided to join Sirius's battalion, that nonsense could cease.

"Are you coming," James asked, already seated on the boat with that Rumpelstiltskin or another—the portly one who smelled like cheese.

"I'm just waiting to see who else will sit with us," Sirius said, returning his gaze to Remus' figure.

"Why," James' face twisted in confusion.

"Let him take his time," Peter said. "Maybe the Squid will get bored waiting for all of us to go across?"

"It's alright, Pete," James reassured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner. "I'm sure it'll toss you back soon enough."

This did nothing to soothe Peter's now frazzled nerves, and if it hadn't been for Hagrid holding the boats in place as the students boarded them, he would've tipped them all over from the jerky movements he was making. However, it did give the students a laugh as a charmed doodle of an oinking pig was permanently stuck to Peter's robes. Sirius couldn't deny himself a chuckle or two, watching the fat one writhe and rock in the boat—frantic as all hell—to merely brush the drawing.

It was comedy gold! James was near tears, face a bright color pink and lungs shriveled, and Sirius opened his mouth to speak when a tall figure moved past him.

It was Lupin wearing only an undershirt and Hogwarts's jumper. The crowd was now silent, watching this bruised and battered boy, with a somewhat stern look in his eye, approach Peter. From a distance, Sirius could only make out Peter's hushed gratitude as he scooped that circus tent of a robe out of Remus' arms. If Sirius hadn't known any better, Remus had just given his robes to Patrick. Out of what? Spite or wrath? The goodness of his ever-growing heart? Sirius was left dissatisfied and peeved, and those only multiplied when Lupin seated himself beside the fat one.

"You should be apologizing to him," he'd said to James, shoulders slumped to curb the chilling breeze.

James scoffed, examining his wand for the hundredth time, "Let's assume for a moment that I give a jot, Lupin. Why should I be doing that?"

They'd attracted a bit of attention from their peers, whispers darting from boat to boat and eyes peering through curtains of hair. Eleven-year-olds were anything but discreet, Sirius knew, but their flagrant gossiping was indignant, nonetheless.

"Because he's not done anything to you," Lupin blinked, unphased by the rocking of their boat.

Hagrid had set them off; Sirius knew that the boats had been charmed to follow the oaf. He needn't worry about their course. Anyway, watching these two morons argue was far more entertaining now than any old building.

"I see," James clicked his tongue, crossing a thin leg over the other. "Our boy scout here wants to defend Peter so that everyone will like him."

Lupin sputtered, looking quite shocked at James' observations.

"I don't care about people liking me," he defended himself, still looking as calm as the sky. "I just think what you did was cruel."

"As if you know half a calf about cruelty," James spat. "It was a simple joke that everyone laughed at. Don't be such a puritan, Lupin."

"I didn't find it funny," Lupin glared. "Neither did Peter."

"Well, it's a good thing I don't really care, Lupin," James finally sighed. "It was a bit of fun at Pettigrew's expense. Don't give yourself an ulcer."