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The Burning Book
Severus despised hot weather: the claustrophobic atmosphere of the classrooms; the oven-like quality of his four-posted bed at night; the way it made his black school robes stick clammily to his body. But most of all he hated the effect that the heat had on his fellow students. What was it about sunshine and long days that made his peers even more insufferably idiotic than usual?
Spiked Pumpkin Juice
Wafting a cloud of smoke away from his face, Remus Lupin squeezed through the crowd. 'I must be the worst prefect in Gryffindor history' he thought guiltily.
By the time Sirius had hauled himself out of bed and donned his trademark biker jacket, he was late for breakfast and in a foul temper. Heads turned as he stormed into the Great Hall and, whether it was looks of hatred, amusement, lust or admiration that came his way, he glowered at everyone equally. Though his leather jacket, tight black jeans and Muggle tattoos on his wrists attempted to prove the opposite, no one witnessing Sirius’ countenance that morning could be in any doubt what family tree he had sprung from.
Even as James’ mind fought to assure himself that he must have misheard, that Sirius couldn’t have done this, it was as if his body knew the truth: his heart had begun to pound in his chest and there was a horrible sinking dread in the pit of his stomach.
Blood and Earth
Remus' lungs wheezed and rattled as he tried to take in too many breaths too quickly. Where was he? What happened? Memories flickered in his head but he couldn’t quite grasp them.
Lily's hesitation was broken by one sudden, crystal clear thought:
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