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Professor McGonagall looked at the four sixth-years sitting before her. It was always the same four. “The Marauders” they had begun to call themselves. She couldn’t help but chuckle softly in herself at the sheer audacity of the boys.
It was almost a certainty of life at this point. Every Saturday evening, those four would be sitting in her classroom, while she would mark homework and keep half an eye on them to make sure they were properly bored. It was almost endearing, in its own weird way.
She looked at James, who was using his wand to magically propell pieces of parchment into the bin. Towards the bin, she corrected herself upon seeing the slowly growing pile of pellets. Sirius was fast asleep, leaning back dangerously far on his chair. Remus’s head was buried in a book. She hoped it was at least something considering his school work. Peter was the only one that looked nervous to be there. He was the one that would be called for detention the least, and it showed. She was glad at least one of them was still affected by the detention. It saved it from being a complete waste of her time.
McGonagall softly coughed in order to get the boys’ attention, in a way that only an experienced teacher or mother can. Remus tried to inconspicuously wake Sirius by subtly jamming his wand in his sides, which almost resulted in the poor boy falling backwards over his chair. Unfortunately, it appears we can’t ever have good things, McGonagall thought to herself. She took a breath and sighed.
“James. Sirius.”
“Minerva.” The two replied in unison. McGonagall slowly took off her glasses and brought her hand to her face. She was on a first-name basis with the staff only - and two students, it seemed. You had to admire their boldness.
“Remus. I am once again disappointed to see you here today.” She turned to the third boy.
“You and me both, professor.” What had happened to the sweet little boy that had entered Hogwarts six years ago. That’s what six years of exposure to the force of chaos that was Potter-Black duo would do to you.
“Peter, try to behave next time.”
“Yes, professor, of course.” At least one of them was still a sweet kid. She hoped he would always stay that way.
“So, professor. What enlightening literature do you have for us to copy on this fine evening?” James sparked up.
“Unfortunately, Potter, I cannot stick around today.” James and Sirius out a melodramatic moan of disappointment. “Yes, boys. I know, it’s a pity. Instead, you’re going to sit here until this hourglass here runs out and think about what you’ve done this time. Understood?”
The boys patiently waited for McGonagall to exit the room before James jumped up from his chair, which immediately earned him a look from his friends.
“You can’t leave, James. Professor McGonagall said-” Peter chirped up. James let out a dramatic gasp.
“Don’t worry, wormtail. I’m not leaving until that hourglass runs out, exactly as I was told. What kind of scoundrel do you take me for?” James walked around McGonagall’s desk and looked at the hourglass, taking up a pensive look that wouldn’t seem out of place in an elementary school production of Sherlock Holmes. “There is, however, a lot of grey area in ‘until that hourglass runs out.’” He took out his wand and started waving patterns around the hourglass on the desk.
“Whatever you’re trying, it won’t work.” Remus said, not lifting his head from his book.
“Honestly, guys. I am deeply insulted at how low you all perceive me.”
“I think he should try!” Sirius was leaning back in his chair again, watching James cast whatever it was he was going to cast.
“Honey, do you really think the magnificent James Fleamont Potter is going to outsmart McGonagall?” Remus raised an eyebrow at the boy next to him.
“Absolutely not.” In one fluent motion Sirius swung back forward and let his head rest on his hands. “But I would really like to see him try.”
At that point, James had finished his spell. For a second, James stepped back triumphantly, waiting for his work to kick in. Then there were a series of brief lights. Then James was laying on the ground.
When he got back up, Sirius fell down on the floor laughing. His nose had sprouted arms like a clock, and his face was circled in pimples resembling different numbers. The voice of McGonagall filled the room.
“And not a minute sooner, Mr. Potter.”
“Fuck, marry, kill. McGonagall, Dumbledore, Flitwick. Go.” They were sitting in a circle, Sirius sitting on a table, Peter on the floor. James’s clock had vanished by now.
“Kill Flitwick. Kiss McGonagall. Marry Dumbledore. He seems like a fun guy to hang out with. We’ll keep it a sexless marriage. Also important, imagine that status as Dumbledore’s husband.” Sirius started off
“Marrying for status. You truly are a Black.” James remarked, earning him a loud smack on the back of his head with Remus’s book from Sirius, earning a considerably softer smack on the back on Sirius’s head from Remus.
“What about you, Moony?”
“Kiss Dumbledore, kill Flitwick, sorry, and marry McGonagall.” The other boys looked at him. “What? I think we’d get along nicely.”
Sirius pulled out a chair next to Remus and sat next to him, faux-candidly laying his arm across his shoulder. “Remus, sweety. McGonagall is a… I don't know how to tell you this… she’s a woman.” Sirius gave that last word a well-deserved stage whisper. It took Remus a good second to realise what Sirius had said, after which he gave the boy a good punch between his ribs, causing him to fall on the floor yet again.
“How about you, Wormy?”
When McGonagall came back, she found her classroom redecorated as a small amphitheatre. The tables and chairs were shoved aside, and in the middle of the room, Sirius and James were in the middle of a heated portrayal of the tale of Hubbart the Dragon-Slayer. When they heard the door of the classroom closed, all four boys simultaneously turned their heads at the teacher, across their faces a range of expressions ranging from shame to sheer terror.
“In with the impeccable timing we know her for, it is our Teacher Ex Machina.”
“I can see you had fun?”
“Absolutely, professor, but then again, it’s always fun to spend our evenings in your detention. Same time next week?”
As the four boys walked out, McGonagall waved her wand to move all the furniture back to their proper position. She was going to miss those boys in a few years.