Chapter 20: Sleep Deprived
Three of the four Marauders snuck back into the Gryffindor tower shortly after dawn. They had seen Moony through another full moon and managed to explore more of the castle grounds. As soon as they were caught up on sleep, they would ink it onto their ever-growing Marauder's Map. It seemed that every time they explored during the full moon or under the invisibility cloak they discovered something new – a secret passage, hidden staircase, unused broom cupboard. James was sure he would feel desolate when they reached the final levels of the castle and their map was complete. What fun was there when all the mysteries were stripped away? Sometimes he wanted to call it quits on the map and leave the castle some of its secrets.
As he considered that option, which he knew Sirius would never go for, he fell into a less-than-comfortable chair by the fire and began to snore. Sirius claimed the couch and Peter the other chair. They wanted to return to their beds and sleep away what little night they had left, but Harry was there now. Even a new student would know that Madam Pomfrey would never release her patients after curfew, so they had to stay down in the common room, snoring and slightly uncomfortable until the earliest risers alerted them to the hour.
"Why are you boys sleeping down here?" Hermione asked in a voice that was far too loud for any of their liking. "Is there something wrong with your beds?"
None of them opened their eyes and their responses seemed to come from some cheeky semiconscious level of awareness.
"Mine's a bit narrow," Peter commented.
"Mine's too soft," James grumbled.
"Mine's too cold," Sirius sighed longingly. "If only there was someone willing to keep it warm with me."
She huffed at their responses. "It's nearly time for breakfast, and you're sitting on my Transfiguration book, James," she said and jabbed the boy pointedly in the arm until he was annoyed enough to move.
He cursed and pulled the book from under his thigh, "So that's what was so uncomfortable."
The girl reclaimed her book, shook her head and muttered to herself as she left. "Unbelievable. Cannot imagine what he would've been like if you raised him... lazy, arrogant..."
It took a bit of time for his sleepy brain to process her words, but eventually James lifted his head. "Did that make sense to anyone, because I didn't quite get it?"
"Nope," Sirius said, still lying on the couch. "Grangers are just an odd sort." He stretched out his back and knew there would be a painful crick there well into the weekend. "Speaking of which, let's go annoy Harry," he said, failing to add, 'since I can't annoy his sister.'
"Good plan," James said, but made no effort to move. Peter was already back to snoring.
"Just me, then," Sirius sighed. He stood with a yawn and moved to the stairs, climbing slowly and wishing that they could tell Harry the truth just so he wouldn't have to spend any more time sleeping on the couch than was necessary. It was a fine couch, worn and soft and thread-bare, perfect for long hours of studying and talking and snogging, but it was clearly not made for sleeping. Pushing open the door to their bedroom, Sirius wondered how best to approach Moony about the idea.
Perhaps they could test Harry's trustworthiness before the next full moon.
No, it was not his trustworthiness that needed testing, Sirius realised. He was already certain that Harry could keep a secret, as he was obviously hiding things from them. It was his opinion on werewolves that needed discovering. If he hated them or feared them or thought them dangerous, then Moony would be in a world of trouble.
'So, how do we go about—' his thoughts came to an abrupt and jarring halt at the sight of Harry's empty bed. The covers were pulled up but rumpled as if he had been sitting on them, the book he had been reading the night before was lying open. His heart dropped into his stomach, fearing that Harry had gone to Madam Pomfrey after they had left. He raced to the bed, picking up the book. He had been too preoccupied to notice how far Harry had made it through the book before they had gone, so he could not even estimate when the boy had set it down.
Thinking about it, he didn't even know what Harry had been reading. He scanned the open pages. It looked like a textbook, but not one he owned. Turning to the cover, he frowned again. "Occlumency?"
"Leave my stuff alone, Black," a voice instructed, making him jump and drop the book instantly.
"Harry James Granger?" Sirius looked around. "Where are you?"
"On the floor, genius," was the boy's reply. Frowning once again, Sirius walked around the bed. Had it been anyone else's, he would have simply laid himself down on it to peer over the other side, but Harry was still too unpredictable to be able to get away with such invasions of personal space and property.
Around the other side of the bed, sitting on the floor with his legs folded and his head leaning back on the small night table was Harry.
"How long have you been down there?"
"Since you lot left," Harry said. "Fell asleep. Hadn't meant to."
"Why were down there at all?" Sirius questioned, trying to keep the curiosity out of his voice. He and the others sat on the floor all the time, but somehow Harry's position looked too rigid to have been sitting there for comfort.
"I was meditating, if you must know," he replied a bit stiffly as he unfolded his legs and got to his feet. Sirius knew about meditation; he had a Muggle book on the subject. He had a lot of Muggle books, most of which he had only picked up to annoy his mother, but several of them had become tattered after being read so frequently. The meditation book, while not a favourite, was now proving useful to him, helping him to understand the position in which Harry had been sitting and the changes in the boy. Harry was radiating calmness and energy. It made the hairs of his arms stand on end to be so close, to feel such concentrated magic. The meditation book he had read never mentioned that, but it was meant for Muggles not wizards. Who was to say what effect that level of mental focus would have on a wizard?
"Madam Pomfrey let you go?" Harry asked when Sirius just continued to stare at him.
"What?" Sirius blinked. "Oh, yeah. Just a bit of food poisoning, probably retaliation for a prank." He waved it away and dropped onto his bed.
Harry nodded and didn't question him further. It had been a lame excuse to leave for the night and he doubted they had thought to add many details to their fabrication. He was certain it wouldn't hold up to any real scrutiny and did not want to press Sirius into revealing the truth.
"You're staring again," Harry said flatly.
"No, I'm looking intently," Sirius replied reflexively, but after a second's thought, added, "or I'm so tired, I can't focus my own eyes properly. Do us a favour, would you, Harry? Take notes and let us skive off just this once?" He fell backwards on his mattress, sighing into it after the few hours of sleep he had stolen on the couch.
"Since it's you asking," Harry chuckled and left Sirius to sleep while he got ready for Transfiguration.
"Where are the others?" Hermione asked when he joined her at breakfast. She had been the first to sit down at the Gryffindor table that morning, arriving before a single diligent Hufflepuff or studious Ravenclaw. It was still early and the tables were sparsely populated, giving them the opportunity to talk privately for the first time in a week.
"Sleeping it off," Harry muttered quietly. "I feel bad. It would make it so much easier on them if I told them I knew Remus' secret."
She nodded. "I know. I found them sleeping in the common room this morning. I can't imagine it was particularly comfortable after a night out with a… you know what." She finished hesitantly, reluctant to say the word even at the empty table.
Eager to take advantage of this rare moment of solitude, Harry asked, "Have you managed to remember any of those spells from the train?"
"Well, I know Ron threw a Bat Bogey Hex, but I doubt that had much to do with this," she said dryly. "I really don't think any spells our friends would have used could do this even if they had such poor aim that they hit you instead of him." She shook her head. "Whatever did this had to have been Malfoy's spell, but I don't know of any hexes that cause this when combined with a portkey."
"At least we've narrowed it down a bit," Harry said with dim hope. Really, it had only been a week and he had no reason to believe they could have solved the problem in so short a time.
"It might be enough to get a lead if we tell Dumbledore," she said. Unlike Harry, she had no trouble relying on the old wizard.
He kept his face impassive as he nodded, "Yeah, you should go tell him after class."
"Harry," she pleaded, "I have a lot more work than you do. I know you don't like him very much right now, but would you please do it?"
He sighed, and nodded. She was taking more classes than he was, and the stress of lying was not something she was used to. He couldn't afford to have his best friend and fake sister cracking under the strain of their situation.
With that settled and being unable to discuss anything of real importance with nosy Gryffindors filtering in and sitting too close, they turned to their breakfasts and ate silently. The pangs of eating too much had given way to an increased appetite, Harry found; he ate a complete if still rather small meal, his first in months. Filled with eggs, bacon and toast, they hurried to Transfiguration. Lily was waiting for Hermione at the door and paused before greeting Harry. "You're not James?"
"No," he laughed.
"Well, good morning, then," she smiled warmly. "Where are your friends?"
"Rough night," Harry commented vaguely. "Food poisoning, very nasty."
He wondered how often they used that lame excuse on people outside their little group of Marauders. Knowing how clever three-quarters of them were, he assumed they would be smart enough to vary their excuses to keep people from getting suspicious. Maybe he could slip them something out of Fred and George's Skiving Snack Boxes next time to help everyone believe their lie.
"I'm so sure," Lily replied sceptically.
"No, really," he insisted. "You should have seen Peter… it was disgusting. Nearly put me off my dinner."
"Oh, well, I'm glad you didn't catch it. Are you feeling alright?" she said and put her hand to his forehead.
"I don't think that's going to tell you the condition of my stomach," he commented, torn between laughing at her mistake and hugging her for being so concerned about him.
"True, but it would look odd if I stuck my hand under your shirt to feel your abdomen."
He shrugged. "You wouldn't be the first."
Her emerald eyes lit up with mischief, but it was Tildy who spoke excitedly. "Ooh, do tell, Harry! Who's been fondling you?" The girl bounced on her toes just as Tonks always did when she was excited. Harry half expected her hair to flash pink, but it remained chestnut brown.
"No one you know," he hedged.
"Still," she insisted as eager and single-minded as the Metamorphmagus he had left behind. "I want details!"
"Just a friend," he said lamely, trying to extricate his arm from her grasp.
He was wrong. Tildy wasn't as bad as Tonks. She was worse. Every time he thought his arm was free, the girl seemed to grow another hand to grab hold of him again. He looked to Hermione and Lily for help, but they were too busy laughing at him to be of any assistance.
"I'm not letting go until I get details, real details," she said. "Name, height, hair colour, favourite bands!"
"Dora, tall as me, depends on her mood and anything punk," Harry cried. "Now let go!"
Even though he had given in, the girl hugged him closer, squeezing him so tightly he couldn't breathe. "I approve! I hope you have lots of children."
"Dammit, what part of 'friend' is such a foreign concept around here?" Harry demanded in a sharp wheeze that took what little breath he could manage inside Tildy's impossibly strong grip.
"It's because you're such a handsome devil, Granger," James commented as he strolled up, running a hand through his already chaotic hair in an attempt to make it as wild as Harry's.
"I thought you were skiving off," Harry said as he managed to shove the girl off.
"Tried, but Tildy was persistent," he grumbled and glared his annoyance at her.
"Sirius?" Harry asked.
"There's no waking him when he decides he's sleeping in," James shook his head sadly. "Would sleep through a war if you let him." Harry nodded and fought to keep the pain off his face. Sirius would sleep through the war, and all because Harry was too stupid to know he was being manipulated.