Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun of June 1971 hung heavy and golden over the streets of London, baking the asphalt of the St. Oswald’s Primary School's playground until it smelled of tar and old summers. The final bell had long since stopped echoing, replaced by the distant, joyful shrieks of children sprinting toward a freedom that felt, in the moment, eternal.

Remus Lupin walked with a light, rhythmic step, his fingers trailing over the handlebars of his bike and his school jumper tied loosely around his waist despite the heat. Beside him, Lily Evans was practically skipping, her own bicycle rattling as she pushed it along the gravel path. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail that swung like a pendulum with every energetic step.

"I’m just saying," Sirius argued, walking on Remus’ other side with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "If Mr. Grundy actually managed to teach us anything useful—like how to win at cards or how to fix a radio—I wouldn't have had to prank him. The man’s a fossil. A bored, dusty fossil. He deserved to endure a bit of fun for once in his miserable life!"

"He’s not a fossil, Sirius, he’s just thorough," Lily said, though she was grinning, her eyes bright with the thrill of being finished. "And you only hate him because he gave you a mere 'pass' in English Literature."

"English!" Sirius scoffed, tossing his dark, chin-length hair out of his grey eyes with a flick of his head. "Who even cares about Wordsworth and his 'host of golden daffodils' anymore? I’m going to a secondary school, not a botanical convention. Besides, he only gave me that grade because I wrote in my essay that the poet was clearly trespassing on private land and should’ve been arrested for property damage. Grundy said I was being 'obstructive.' I said I was being 'logical.'"

"You were being a prat," Remus corrected dryly, but his amber eyes danced with a quiet, fond amusement. "There’s a difference between logic and just wanting to see the veins in a man’s forehead pop."

"Potato, pot-ah-to," Sirius shrugged, his expensive leather shoes crunching loudly on the gravel. "Either way, no more Grundy! I bet St. Edmunds Academy won't suck as much. I hope there's no more sitting in rows reciting The Charge of the Light Brigade until our lungs give out."

All three had been accepted into St. Edmunds Academy for the following school year, a prestigious private secondary school in the West End. Lily had won her place by being the only student who had gotten top grades in all of her subjects, and that had earned her the only full scholarship offered in five years. Remus was going because his father, a fair-wage worker at the Ministry, and his mother, a librarian, had spent the last three years scrimping and saving to afford the tuition. Sirius was going because his family's name was practically etched into the foundation stones of the place, and because the Blacks didn't believe in "local" education.

"If there is, at least we'll suffer together," Remus said, giving him a lopsided smile. Sirius returned it with a grin that was all teeth and trouble.

"The only ones who will be suffering will be the teachers when they meet you on September." Lily said, shooting them a look that dared them to contradict her. 

They didn't, because they knew she was right. Sirius sighed dramatically, "I just want to learn something that actually matters."

"Like how to properly annoy a different set of teachers?" Lily retorted with an arched brow. "You two better not get us expelled in the first week. I worked too hard for that scholarship to have it ruined because Sirius decided to stage a coup in the cafeteria and Remus thought it would be a good idea to sell cigarettes to students for a couple extra pounds."

Remus snorted and Sirius put his hands up in fake innocence, saying, "We would never."

Lily's face softened, and she bumped her shoulder against Remus' arm. "But... I suppose if we're going to be miserable, it’s better that we’re miserable in a place that has a decent library."

Remus grinned lazily. "You and I actually enjoy libraries, Lils. It's Sirius who's going to suffer when we ditch him to go study."

Sirius smirked dangerously, his grey eyes lighting up. "Suffer? Rem, we’re going to be legends. Seven years of us? St. Edmunds won’t know what hit it."

They reached the edge of the school grounds, where the tall iron gates stood open like a mouth. They stopped by the stone pillars, the designated waiting spot. Right now, it felt like a transition point—a border between the childhood they were leaving behind and the looming, uncertain future of September.

"I can't believe we're actually done," Remus said, looking back at the brick school building. He felt a strange flutter in his chest—half excitement, half nerves. "No more milk monitors. No more assembly."

"And no more Grundy," Sirius added. "We should celebrate. Tonight. My parents are hosting some dreadfully boring, formal dinner, and I'd rather eat glass."

Remus adjusted his grip on his handlebars, a clever light dawning in his eyes. "Actually... my parents are going to a Ministry function tonight. Some big retirement bash in Camden. So you can all come to my house."

Lily turned to him, her green eyes skeptical. "Won't they make you go with them?"

"I'll make up some excuse so I don't have to," Remus said, the plan forming as he spoke. "They'll leave by seven, then you two can come over. Bring your brother too, Sirius. We can listen to my mum's records—she's got the new Bowie album—and we can actually talk without teachers breathing down our necks."

"Brilliant," Sirius grinned, his face lighting up with genuine mischief. "Reggie and I will figure out a way to sneak out—oh, and we'll steal some of the 'good' stuff from my dad's cellar while we're at it."

"Try to be careful, will you?" Lily warned, though a small smile tugged at her lips. She turned to Remus. "I'll be there, Rem. My mum won't care if I'm with you."

The three friends turned as they noticed the small, somber figure approaching them from the school doors. Regulus Black, a year younger and several inches shorter than his brother, walked toward them. The two brothers could have passed for twins if it weren't for the slight height difference and the vastly different ways they carried themselves.

"The car is approaching, Sirius," Regulus said, his voice quiet and devoid of the boisterous energy the other three shared. "Mother said this morning that we are to look presentable the moment we walk through the door, in case some of the guests arrive before we have time to change. So fix your tie."

Sirius rolled his eyes and the rebellious spark in his eyes dimmed just a fraction, though he didn't make a move to fix his tie. "Right. Duty calls."

"Hello, Reg," Remus said warmly, and Lily waved at him with a soft smile.

Regulus shifted his gaze to them, giving a small nod of acknowledgment and a small smile. "Hi, Rem. Hi, Lily." He looked tired, his small face pale under the afternoon sun.

A long, sleek black Daimler pulled up to the curb, its chrome bumpers glinting like a warning. The chauffeur, a man who looked like he hadn't smiled since the fifties, stepped out to open the rear door.

"Tonight?" Sirius whispered, looking back at his friends as he climbed into the plush leather interior.

"Seven o'clock," Remus confirmed with a nod.

Regulus followed his brother into the car without a word, the door closing with a heavy, expensive thud. As the car pulled away, the two brothers were visible through the rear window—two silhouettes being carried away toward a house that felt more like a museum than a home.

"He seems... quieter than usual," Lily remarked, watching the car disappear.

"He's just Regulus," Remus sighed. "Sirius says things are tense at their house. Lots of expectations."

Lily hopped onto her bike, balancing with one foot on the pedal. "Well, tonight will be better. No expectations, no ministers, and no Grundy. Just us."

"Just us," Remus agreed.

They pedaled off in opposite directions, the clicking of their bike chains a steady rhythm against the quiet of the suburban street.

Remus felt the sun on his neck, a warm promise of the summer ahead. He hummed a bit of a tune he’d heard on the radio, steering his bike toward the shortcut that would take him past the high street. But as he rounded the corner of a narrow terrace-lined road, he squeezed his brakes hard.

The tires screeched softly against the pavement.

Straight ahead, three boys from his class—the kind of arseholes who made a sport of knocking books out of hands and mocking homemade lunches—were loitering in the middle of the street. They had their bikes skewed across the road, laughing loudly at something.

Remus wasn’t in the mood. Today was a perfect day, the gold-leafed finale to seven years of primary school, and he refused to let their mindless cruelty tarnish it. He didn't wait for them to look up. He performed a sharp U-turn and pedaled back the way he came, deciding on a much longer, more desolate route home.

His detour took him past an old block of Victorian shops that had been gutted for redevelopment. The area was a skeleton of scaffolding and yellow warning signs. As he wheeled his bike nearer to the construction site, the air grew thick with the smell of pulverized stone and sawdust.

And then, he heard it.

It was faint at first—a low, rhythmic thump-thump, thump-thump that he initially mistook for a distant pile driver. But as he passed the perimeter fence, the sound sharpened. It wasn't mechanical. It was organic, resonant, like the skin of a drum being struck by a frantic hand.

Remus slowed down, frowning. The sound seemed to be coming from the very center of the excavated ground. He stopped his bike, his heart fluttering in sync with the beat. As he stood there, the drumming didn't just reach his ears; it vibrated in his marrow. It was a physical sensation, a pressure in his chest that made his breath hitch.

He shook his head, trying to clear the sensation. "Stupid," he muttered to himself. He gripped his handlebars, ready to push off, but the moment he moved to leave, the drums exploded in volume.

The rhythm was insistent, demanding. It felt like a call—a voice without words that knew exactly who he was. His curiosity, always his most dangerous trait, flared to life. With a heavy sigh of resignation, Remus leaned his bike against the temporary railing at the top of the site and looked down to see what the whole drumming thing was about.

To his suprise, the site was empty of people, the workers likely gone for their lunch break or off at the pub to celebrate the Friday afternoon. Remus scanned the hollowed-out earth below. There was nothing but piles of rubble, rusted rebar, and deep trenches of dark London clay.

But he could still hear—no, feel—the thump of the drums, beating louder and faster, persistent and determined. He could feel it in his soul.

He climbed over the low barrier and half-slid, half-bolted down the steep embankment. He walked around, trying to find the origin of the sound, of the feeling. The deeper he went, the more the drumming seemed to pulse within him. The thumping sped up, a frantic, galloping rhythm that guided his feet.

He stopped in front of a half-finished retaining wall, where the earth had been freshly cut away. The sound was deafening here, a roar of percussion that seemed to come from behind the dirt itself. His heart was beating to the frantic rythim of the drums.

Remus didn't think; he just acted. He began to claw at the loose earth with his bare hands, ignoring the dirt wedging under his fingernails. After a few inches of digging, his fingers struck something solid. Something cold.

He cleared more dirt away, revealing a dark, polished surface. It was wood. He gripped the edges of the object and pulled. With a wet, sucking sound, the earth gave way, and Remus stumbled back, holding a heavy wooden box.

The silence was instantaneous.

The drums stopped so abruptly it felt like a physical blow. The sudden quiet of the construction site was unnerving, broken only by the distant hum of a passing bus.

Remus sat in the dirt, staring at the object in his lap. He felt a wave of confusion, followed by a sharp sting of disappointment. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting—a hidden treasure, a strange machine—but it was just a box.

He used the sleeve of his school jumper to scrub the grime from the lid. The wood was intricately carved, depicting sprawling jungle vines and the silhouettes of wild animals. In the center, in bold, golden, raised lettering, was a single word:

JUMANJI

"A board game?" Remus whispered, his brow furrowing. "All that for a fucking board game?"

He turned it over, looking for a manufacturer’s mark or a price tag, but there was nothing. It looked ancient, yet perfectly preserved. He briefly considered leaving it there, but he looked up at the looming machinery. If he left it, it would be crushed by a bulldozer or buried under a ton of concrete by Monday.

A reckless thought struck him. Sirius and Lily wanted to do something "fun" tonight. He didn't know if this game was fun, but it was certainly strange. Maybe they could play it together. It would be better than just sitting around talking about Mr. Grundy.

He stood up, tucked the heavy box under his arm, and scrambled back up the embankment. He shoved the game into his satchel, the weight of it pulling uncomfortably at his shoulder, and hopped back onto his bike.

He pedaled the rest of the way with renewed energy, cutting through the slightly grittier, but still decent, streets of his neighborhood.

He reached the brown-brick building, carried his bike up the few steps to the landing, leaned it against the wall, and let himself in. He ran up the stairs to the third floor, pushed the key into the door that separated the hall from his flat, opened the door and went inside. The flat was quiet, smelling faintly of tea and the floor wax his mother insisted on using every Friday.

He dropped his bag on the kitchen table. The board game inside gave a dull, heavy thud.

Remus looked at the clock. It was nearly four. He had three hours to convince his parents to let him stay home, and three hours to wonder why a simple board game had sounded like a heartbeat in the dark.

The late afternoon sun was beginning to stretch across Remus’ bedroom floor, casting long, thin shadows over his bookshelf and the posters of David Bowie, Led Zeppelin and The Who on the wall. He lay on his stomach, a paperback propped up against his pillow, trying to lose himself in the pages of The Hobbit. But his mind kept drifting to the heavy, carved weight inside the satchel slumped in the corner of his room.

At 5:30 PM, the front door clicked open. That was his mother, Hope, returning from the local library she worked at. Remus heard the familiar rustle of her coat being hung up and the kettle being filled. At 6:00 PM sharp, the heavier tread of his father, Lyall, echoed in the hallway, coming home in a suit that always looked a little too tight around the shoulders.

Remus stayed tucked away, waiting for the clock to hit the danger zone.

At 6:40 PM, his father’s voice boomed from the living room. "Remus? Could you come in here, please?"

Remus took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes until they looked a bit watery, and slumped his shoulders. He walked into the living room, moving with the sluggishness of someone who was losing a battle with a migraine.

His parents were standing by the fireplace, already dressed for the party. His mother looked elegant in a floral dress, but Lyall was already checking his watch, his brow furrowed. When he saw Remus in his rumpled t-shirt and jeans, his expression soured.

"Remus, for heaven's sake," Lyall snapped. "We’re leaving in twenty minutes. You aren't even dressed. We wanted to have a word with you before we left, but now you’ve wasted the time we had for you to get ready."

"I’m sorry," Remus mumbled, resting a hand against his temple. "I’ve got this... really bad headache. It’s been building all afternoon."

Lyall’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flat and skeptical. "A headache. Coincidentally on the last day of school. On a night your mother and I happen to be out of the flat."

"Oh, Lyall, look at him," Hope interjected, her soft heart instantly winning out. She hurried over, pressing a cool hand to Remus’s forehead. "He’s quite pale. You poor thing, is it very sharp?"

Remus doubted he was actually pale.

"It’s just... throbbing," Remus lied, feeling a twinge of guilt but leaning into her touch. "I think the stress of the exams these last few weeks finally caught up. I’m just paying for it now, I suppose. I’m sure I’ll be fine if I just stay in the dark and rest."

Hope turned to Lyall, her expression pleading. "We can’t make him stand around in a loud room for four hours like this. Let him stay here and sleep it off."

Lyall stared at Remus for a long, quiet moment. He clearly didn't buy the "stressed by exams" line for a second—Remus was far too bright to be felled by a few papers—but he took one look at Hope and he sighed, adjusting his cufflinks. "Fine. Stay. But keep the door locked and don't spend the whole night staring at the television."

"I won't. Thanks, Dad," Remus said, turning toward his room with a silent cheer screaming in his head.

"Not so fast," Lyall said, his voice dropping an octave. "We still need to talk to you. Sit down."

Remus froze. He slowly sat on the edge of the armchair, his "headache" facade slipping as a cold knot of genuine dread formed in his stomach. His parents exchanged a look—the kind of look adults use when they’ve made a decision they know is going to be unpopular.

"We’ve been looking at the finances for September," Lyall began, standing tall with his hands behind his back. "And we’ve had to make a difficult decision regarding your secondary education."

"What do you mean?" Remus asked, his voice tightening. "I’ve already got my place at St. Edmunds. Lily and Sirius and I, we’re all—"

Lyall held up a hand, silencing him instantly. "St. Edmunds is an excellent school, Remus. It is also, as it turns out, exorbitantly expensive. Even with the sacrifices we’ve made, the commute, the uniforms, the fees... it’s more than we can comfortably manage without drowning in debt."

Hope looked at him with gentle eyes. "We still want you to have a private education, Remus. You have such a gift. You desrve a bright future. So, your father did some digging through his contacts at the Ministry. We’ve found a boarding school in Scotland. Hogwarts Secondary School."

Remus stared at them, his jaw dropping. "Scotland? You’re... you’re shipping me off?"

"It’s half the price of St. Edmunds," Lyall said firmly. "It’s a traditional institution, very secluded, very rigorous. They offer a massive subsidy for Civil Service families. You’ll get a better education there than you would anywhere in London."

"I don't care about the subsidy!" Remus stood up, his voice rising, the feral spark he usually kept hidden behind sarcasm suddenly flaring to life. "You’re sending me hundreds of miles away! I won't see you, I won't see Lily, I won't see Sirius—you’re taking my whole life away and I don't even have a choice in it?!"

"We can't afford St. Edmunds—" Lyall started, his patience wearing thin.

"So what? I'll go to the local comprehensive," Remus said, his heart hammering. "I don't care about the 'prestige.' I just want to stay in London with my friends!" And with my family, for fuck's sake.

"You'll be home for Christmas and summer," Hope said, her eyes moistening. "It’s a wonderful opportunity, Remus. The grounds are beautiful, and—"

"I don't want beautiful grounds! I want my friends!" Remus shouted. "I'd rather go to the worst fucking public school in London as long as I'll still be with the people I love than be sent to some freezing castle in the middle of fuckass nowhere and be all by myself!"

"That's enough!" Lyall stepped forward, his face hardening. "This isn't a fucking debate, Remus. It’s a reality. We’ve already signed the papers. It’s the best opportunity we can afford for you, it's what is best for your future, and quite frankly, it’s the only choice we have if you want a decent shot at university."

"It's my life!" Remus yelled, his face flushed with a mixture of betrayal and fury. "You should have asked me! Doesn't what I want fucking count for anything?!"

Lyall reached out and took Hope’s hand, pulling her toward the door. "We are leaving now. We are going to this party, and you are going to stay here and think about your tone. Stop acting like an inmature, ungrateful child. Most boys would give anything for this."

"I hate you!" Remus screamed at their retreating backs. "I actually hate you both!"

Hope looked back at Remus, her eyes filled with an apology that felt like a slap in the face. She might be sorry, but she wasn't stopping it. She was letting it happen. She was letting Lyall send him away.

The front door opened. The evening air rushed in for a second, and then the door slammed shut with a finality that echoed through the empty flat.

Remus stood in the center of the living room, trembling. He turned and stormed into his bedroom, slamming his own door so hard a picture frame rattled on the wall. He threw himself onto his bed, burying his face in the pillow to stifle a scream of pure, unadulterated rage.

He was alone. He was going to be all alone.

The echo of the slamming front door still rang in Remus’ ears when a sharp, rhythmic knock followed five minutes later.

Remus didn’t move from his bed. He stared at the ceiling, hot tears pricking his eyes. His parents had probably forgotten their keys. Tough luck, because Remus wasn't going to open the door for them.

The knock came again—insistent, impatient.

A long moment later his head whipped up. His friends. He’d almost forgotten. He scrubbed the tears from his face with the back of his hands, checked his reflection in the mirror to make sure he didn't look like he’d just been through a war, and rushed to the front door.

He swung it open to find his friends grinning at him. Lily stood at the front, her red hair in two pigtails, secured by ridiculous, green yarn hair ties, and she was clutching a crinkling bag with snacks inside. Sirius was leaning against the doorframe, a brown paper bag under his arm that clinked suspiciously. Tucked behind them was Regulus, looking stiff and out of place, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his pristine jumper.

Both Black brothers were wearing ridiculous, identical pale blue crisp cotton shirts that looked expensive enough to pay Remus’s rent for a month. They were clearly the spoils of the distinguished dinner party they had just fled. Regulus was buttoned up tight to his throat, looking like a doll sitting on a shelf, while Sirius had already managed to wrinkle his sleeves and pop the top buttons in a desperate bid for air.

"Took you long enough," Sirius remarked, smirking up at him. "I was about to start picking the lock. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, Rem."

"Some of us have to actually walk to the door, Sirius. We don't all have wings on our heels," Remus countered, his voice a little raspy but his sarcasm perfectly intact.

Sirius and Lily laughed, and even Regulus chuckled. Remus gave them a small lopsided smile and ushered them in, and as they kicked off their shoes, Sirius started retelling their ‘covert operation.’

"We were crouching behind a parked Morris Minor for ten minutes," Sirius grinned. "Waiting for your parents to leave. Lily made us wait an extra five for 'precaution', in case they had forgotten something and came back—I told her it wouldn't happen, but she wouldn't budge. And guess what, Rem? They didn't come back!"

"It’s called tactical thinking, Sirius," Remus said softly, offering Lily a small smrik. "Even if it can be a pain in the arse sometimes."

Lily playfully nudged his arm, but as she caught the light on his face, her smile faltered. She peered at him, her emerald green eyes narrowing in concern. "Remus? Are you alright?"

Sirius’s head snapped toward Remus instantly, his playful demeanor vanishing. He scanned Remus’s face like he was looking for a physical wound. "What happened? Did anyone hurt you? I'm going to kill—"

"Oh come off him," Lily said, slightly pushing Sirius away from Remus, "It's not that. He's been crying."

"Can it wait until there’s alcohol in my system?" Remus interrupted with a lazy, weak smirk, nodding at the bag Sirius was holding.

Regulus, who hadn't said a word, nodded decisively. He bypassed the group and walked straight into the kitchen—he’d been here enough to know where the cupboards were. A few seconds later, he emerged, miraculously balancing four glasses in one hand and two bowls in the other.

Remus rushed over to help. "Blimey, Reg. You’re a circus act."

"I've got it," Regulus said, though he didn't protest when Remus took two of the glasses from him. They set everything on the low coffee table.

Lily began dumping the snacks into bowls while Sirius unveiled his prize. He pulled out a heavy bottle with a gold-and-black label.

"What is it?" Remus asked, eyeing the dark amber liquid.

"It says... Teacher’s Highland Cream," Sirius read, and then popped the cap with a flourish. "Whiskey, I think. Stolen from the very back of the cellar. My father won't notice until like the 90s. If, God forbid, he's still alive then."

Regulus watched as Sirius poured three generous measures. He frowned. "Why didn't you pour me one?"

"Because you’re ten, Reggie," Sirius deadpanned. "You’re practically a toddler."

"You’re eleven!" Regulus retorted, his voice pitching higher. "It’s not much of a difference."

"I'm almost twelve years old. You've just turned ten. You were literally nine a few days ago, so you're still a toddler in my eyes." 

Remus didn't say anything; he just took Sirius’s glass and tipped a good portion of it into Regulus’s empty cup.

Sirius looked scandalized. "Hey! That’s my share!"

Remus ignored him, doing the same with his own glass and then Lily’s until all four were even.

"Why not just pour from the bottle, you lunatic?" Sirius groaned, making a grand drama of it. Remus just smirked and gave Sirius a firm shove onto the sofa. Sirius, however, grabbed Remus’s shirt and dragged him down with him, both of them tumbling into the cushions. 

Once everyone was settled, Lily looked at the glasses with a mix of fascination and dread. "Has anyone actually... done this before? Drank?"

Sirius shook his head proudly. Regulus just gave a neutral, stoic twitch of his head.

"My mum gave me a sip of wine at Christmas once," Remus admitted. "I think it was mostly vinegar."

"Same here," Lily sighed, picking up her glass. "This is going to be a complete fiasco."

"To the last day of St. Oswald’s," Sirius declared with a huge grin, raising his glass. Then he paused and looked at his brother, "Except you, Reggie."

Regulus rolled his eyes. They all clinked, the sound of glass on glass sharp in the quiet room, and took a sip at the same time.

The reaction was instantaneous. Four faces contorted in pure, unadulterated disgust. They swallowed with a collective grimace and set the glasses down on the table in perfect unison. A beat of silence passed, and then they all burst into childish laughter.

After they calmed down, Lily stood up, hands on her hips, her fierce protective streak returning. "Right. So, who do I have to kill, Rem?"

"Probably the distiller of that whiskey," Remus muttered.

"Don't beat around the bush. I know you’ve been crying," Lily stated, her voice soft but immovable.

Remus felt the bitterness well up again. He reached for his glass again and took another sip of the whiskey, grimacing and ignoring the burn, and stared at the table. "My parents. They’re sending me away to a boarding school in Scotland for secondary school. It's called Hogwarts or some shit like that. I won't be able to see you for most of the year for the next seven fucking years, and I have no say in it, and it's not fucking fair."

Sirius was on his feet in a second, his face flushed with outrage. "Scotland? That’s practically another planet! They can't do that! We’re supposed to go to St. Edmund's Academy together!"

Lily sat back down, sliding closer to Remus and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Remus leaned into her, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "It’s not fair, Lils. They didn't even ask me. I wouldn't care if I have to go to a public school, I really don't, as long as I'm here with you all, but my parents don't give a shit about what I want or don't want."

Lily hugged him tighter and carded her fingers through his light brown hair. Sirius was pacing now, pouting and swearing under his breath about the injustice of parents.

"At least you won't have to deal with the London smog," Lily murmured, trying to find a silver lining that she clearly didn't believe in. Remus managed a quiet chuckle.

Regulus was staring at Remus with those wide, grey eyes—the same eyes as Sirius, but filled with a quiet, observant sadness. When Remus caught him looking, Regulus immediately looked away. He reached into one of the bowls and grabbed a small chocolate and silently held it out to Remus.

Remus took it, his heart aching. The corner of his mouth lifted in a small, lopsided grin, looking at his friend softly, "Thanks, Reg." The younger boy gave a sharp, stiff nod.

Determined to change the mood before Sirius staged a one-man riot, Remus gave Lily one last squeeze before he stood up and walked to the record player. He flipped through his mum's collection until he found what he was looking for. He dropped the needle, and the haunting, psychedelic opening of The Man Who Sold the World by David Bowie filled the room.

Lily grinned, ran up to Remus, grabbed his hands and twirled him around. Remus laughed, the sound finally feeling real. Sirius joined in, dancing with a ridiculous, dramatic flair as if he were on a stage at the Hammersmith Odeon, making the whole living room his. Regulus stayed on the sofa, but the light was back in his eyes as he watched them dance like idiots with a smile on his face.

Halfway through the song, a sound tore through the music.

THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP.

They all flinched violently at the sudden sound. The record was still spinning, but the drumming was faster, louder, deeper—a primal vibration that seemed to come from the walls and settle within their soul with every heavy beat.

Even Regulus jumped to his feet, his face pale. They all whipped around toward the hallway. Toward Remus' room.

Remus felt a jolt of cold realization. The game. The fucking game. How had he forgotten?

"What the heck is that, Rem?" Sirius breathed, his hand clamping onto Remus’ arm with a sudden, grounding weight, as if he expected his friend to go chasing after the noise and get himself killed.

"You can... you can hear it too?" Remus asked, his eyes wide.

"Of course we can hear it!" Regulus snapped, his voice tight with tension. "It sounds like a giant’s heartbeat! Make it stop!"

Remus shook Sirius' hand off him and bolted into his room, telling them over his shoulder that he'd be right back. As he opened his satchel he could feel the vibration through the leather, and then he reached in and took the board game out. Remus was suprised it didn't stop thumping the moment he grabbed it like last time.

It was faster. More insistent.

He carried it back into the living room, his pulse hammering in sync with the thumping. He noticed Sirius had paused the music, at least.

He stood in front of them and held the dark wooden box for them to see.

"Jumanji?" Lily read, leaning in. "What is that? Why is it making that noise?"

Regulus slammed his hands over his ears, his eyes wide and panicked. "Make it stop! Remus, please, make it stop!"

"I don't know how!" Remus said, looking at Regulus with an apologetic wince. He turned to Lily. "It looks like a board game. I found it today, at that construction site where the old Victorian shops were. It was buried in a wall. It was thumping then too, but it stopped when I picked it up the first time, I swear."

Lily looked at the carvings—the lions, the monkeys, the creeping vines. "You found this in a wall where old Victorian shops were?" 

"And you took it with you ?!" Regulus cried, his voice small and terrified.

Sirius, driven by a mix of curiosity and bravado, strode forward. He grabbed the game and slammed it down onto the coffee table, scattering a few crisps. Regulus scrambled backward, ducking half-behind Remus for cover. Remus instinctively put a comforting arm around the younger boy’s shoulder.

"The noise is probably just... some old mechanical thing," Remus said, trying to sound certain. "Batteries, maybe? It’s a sound-game."

"Batteries?" Regulus deadpanned from behind him, his grey eyes fixed on the box. "Working batteries? Behind a Victorian wall, for who knows how many hundred years?"

Sirius looked at them, a dark, daring smirk spreading across his face. The danger of the sound seemed to thrill him. "What if the only way to stop it... is to play?"

Remus shrugged, his curiosity overriding his fear. "I did bring it to see if it was any good. At least this way we actually have a new way to spend the night."

"You're trying to kill us," Regulus whispered.

Lily and Remus locked eyes. The thumping was getting faster now, a frantic gallop that made the glasses on the table rattle.

"I think," Lily said, her voice firm, "that we should open it, find whatever is making that noise, and break it. And then... maybe we play."

Sirius reached for the latch. Regulus muttered that this was a terrible idea, and Sirius rolled his eyes. "Stop being such a baby, Reggie."

Remus squeezed Regulus’ shoulder. "It’s okay, Reg. If you don't like it, we stop. I promise."

Regulus looked at him skeptically for a long moment, and then nodded.

Slowly, they gathered around the table. They sat in a circle, the heavy scent of stolen whiskey and the vibrations in their hearts leaving them on edge.

Sirius looked at each of them with a sparkling glint of mischief in his grey eyes, his hands hovering over the wooden lids. "Are you ready?" he chanted slowly, smirking.

"Dear lord, I'm going to get a headache," Lily muttered. She reached over and shoved the two lids outward, earning a complain from Sirius.

The thumping stopped instantly.

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, like the air before a thunderstorm. The thumping had vanished so completely it made Remus’ ears ring. They all sat frozen, staring at the unfolded board. The path was made of inlaid wood, winding through a painted jungle toward a glowing green gem in the center. There were eight tokens to choose from—a rhino, an snake, a lion, a wolf, a dog, a doe, a cat and a monkey.

Lily let out a long breath, her shoulders dropping. "See? The sound's just a faulty mechanism. It probably just resets when the box is opened."

"Whiskey?" Regulus said suddenly, grabbing his glass and taking another sip without waiting for anyone else to join him, grimacing as he swallowed. "Ugh, how do people actually like this?"

Sirius snickered and took a large sip from his own, almost making him retch. "This is the beginning of adulthood, Reggie!"

Remus and Lily shared a look and shrugged. They took their own glasses, clinked, and took a sip. They swallowed and grimaced at the same time, making them chuckle together.

Sirius suddenly giggled, a huge grin on his face, and reached over to pat Remus and Lily on the hair, "I love you both!"

"God, he's drunk already." Lily said, shaking her head with an amused smile.

"I'm not!" Sirius said, then threw himself at Regulus, "Love you too, Reggie!"

Regulus batted him away, "Piss off!"

Remus leaned over the table, his fingers tracing the fine, swirling script etched into the dark wood of the board’s inner rim.

"There’s writing here," Remus murmured. He squinted at the elegant, gold-inlaid letters, and read:

"JUMANJI

A game for those who seek to find

a way to leave their world behind.

You roll the dice to move your token,

doubles gets another turn.

The first player to reach the end wins."

They all looked at each other for a long, quiet moment. The whiskey was starting to buzz slightly in their young systems, a warm, biting edge against the cold dread of the drumbeats.

"Right then," Sirius said loudly, breaking the silence with a sharp clap of his hands. He reached for the side compartment where the carved tokens sat. "I’m the dog. 'Cause I'm named after the Dog Star, get it? Stately. Regal. Suits me, don't you think?"

Remus leaned toward the other side of the board, noticing another line of text partially obscured by the shadow of a bowl of crisps. "Wait, Sirius, there’s something else written over—"

"We’ll figure it out as we go, Rem," Sirius interrupted, his grey eyes dancing with reckless energy. He pinched the wooden dog between his thumb and forefinger and lowered it toward its start line.

He didn't even get to place it.

The moment the token was an inch above the wood, it flew from his fingers with a sharp clack, snapping onto the starting circle with impossible speed. Sirius froze, his hand still hovering in the air. He blinked, the sassy remark dying on his tongue.

"What the..." He reached down, gripping the dog to pull it back. He tugged. Then he yanked. His face reddened, the sleeves of his expensive blue shirt straining. "It’s stuck. It won't budge. What the hell?"

"How on earth could it be stuck?" Lily demanded. She didn't wait for an answer, her fierce curiosity taking over. She reached out and grabbed the dog, pulling with both hands. It didn't move a millimeter. It felt as if it were part of the table itself.

"It’s probably magnets," Remus said, his mind racing for a logical explanation. "Some kind of Victorian engineering. A strong magnetic pull to keep the pieces from sliding if the table gets bumped."

"Magnets don't turn on and off like that, Remus, which it would have to do once the game is over," Lily argued, though she looked relieved to have a scientific theory to cling to.

"This game is enchanted," Regulus muttered. His voice was small, his face pale against the pale blue of his starched collar.

"Don't be a baby, Reggie," Sirius said, though he looked a little unsettled himself. "It’s efficient. Probably meant so you can carry the game around without losing your place. Come on, take your tokens."

Remus reached for the wolf. It felt heavy and cool in his palm. He slowly lowered it toward the board, bracing himself. Just as Sirius’ had, the wolf leaped from his grip and seated itself firmly next to the dog. He tried to wiggle it; it was ironclad.

"Yep," Remus said with a dry, shaky breath. "Definitely a magnetic thing. Very high-tech for a couple hundred years ago."

Lily nodded, her eyes wide. "It must have been incredibly expensive to make. Imagine the craftsmanship. And all for a mere board game? Weird." She took the doe token, her hand trembling just a fraction as she let the game claim it. Clack. They all turned to Regulus. The younger boy looked like he wanted to bolt back to the sofa, but the weight of three pairs of eyes—especially his brother’s—held him in place. He groaned softly, reached over, and picked up the cat.

"This is a bad idea," he whispered. "I can feel it in my toes." He let the cat snap into place.

"Stop complaining, Reggie. It’s just a game," Sirius rolled his eyes, leaning back and trying to look bored, though his fingers were tapping a frantic rhythm on the table.

Remus looked at Regulus’ anxious expression and felt a pang of guilt. "If Reg doesn't like it, we won't play."

Regulus looked up at him, a tiny, tentative smile touching his lips. "Thanks, Rem."

"Oh, come on Reggie," Sirius complained. "Don't be such a coward. It's just a stupid game."

Regulus immediately looked away.

"Shut up, Sirius," Lily snapped, her green eyes flashing. "Don't talk to him like that."

"I don't take orders from people with freckles," Sirius shot back playfully, a mischievous smirk returning to his face.

Lily didn't hesitate; she reached over and delivered a sharp, sisterly smack to the back of his head.

"Ow! Watch the hair, Evans!"

"I have freckles too, you know," Remus deadpanned, gesturing to his own face.

Sirius paused, his grey eyes suddenly focusing on Remus. He leaned in slightly, his gaze wandering across the bridge of Remus’ nose and the tops of his cheeks, tracking the faint dusting of spots. His expression softened, a genuine, heat-inducing spark behind his eyes.

"Yeah," Sirius murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes met Remus’. "But you’re cute."

Lily hit him again, harder this time.

Remus looked down at the board, fighting a dumb smile that threatened to take over his whole face.

Regulus rolled his eyes, but his hands were fidgeting, "Fine. Whatever, I don't care. We'll play." 

"Wicked!" Sirius grinned, and then gestured to the dice. "Right. Well. Who’s starting?"

They all looked at the ivory cubes.

"I'll do it," Lily said casually. 

Sirius handed her the dice with a mock bow. Lily cupped them in her hands, took a deep breath that made her shoulders rise, and let them fly across the wood.

The dice rattled, spinning across the dark grain of the Jumanji board as four children held their breath—four oblivious children, who had just started a game they did not know would take years to finish.

The dice clattered across the dark wood, tumbling over the carved vines before coming to a dead stop. A four and a two.

Before Lily could even reach out to nudge her piece, the wooden doe began to vibrate. With a haunting, rhythmic scraping sound, it glided across the board, navigating the winding path with mechanical precision until it landed on the sixth square.

The four of them sat frozen, their breathing synchronized in shallow, jagged hitches. They didn't get to dwell on it for too long, because in the center of the board, the dark green glass began to churn. Wisps of emerald smoke swirled beneath the surface, coalescing into glowing, jagged letters.

They all looked at each other for a quick second before turning their attention back to the dark green glass. Lily leaned in slowly, her red pigtails falling over her shoulder as she read the shimmering script aloud:

"At night they fly, you better run, these winged things are not much fun."

The words lingered for a moment, glowing brightly, before dissolving back into the green murky depths.

"What the hell does that mean?" Sirius demanded, his voice cracking the silence. "Is this game always going to be in damned riddles? It's a board game, not a bloody crossword puzzle."

Regulus had his 'thinking face' on—brows knit tight, eyes unfocused and distant. His lips moved silently as he replayed the words, trying to figure out the riddle.

Lily frowned, her hands hovering over the table as if she expected the board to bite. "How did it do that?"

"Bats?" Regulus muttered to himself.

Remus looked at Lily and deadpanned, "Which part, Lils? The token reading the dice, doing its own math and moving by itself, or the smoky green circle making dancing words?"

Regulus cleared his throat, and the sound was so sharp that they all turned to look at him. He had gone incredibly pale, his starched blue collar suddenly looking far too tight. He was staring, wide-eyed and petrified, at a point on the floor just behind Remus.

"How about the part," Regulus started, his voice a slow, high-pitched quiver, "where the riddle’s answer is 'bats', and I’m seeing one right now? That, or the alcohol got me too drunk and I didn't even notice."

They all stared at him for a heartbeat, then whipped their heads around in unison to look at where Regulus was staring.

There, crawling awkwardly across the patterned rug with a sickening, hitching gait, was a bat. It was large, and Remus didn't know they could be this large, and there was a fucking bat in his living room, what the fuck—its fur was matted and dark, its leathery wings folded like broken umbrellas. It hissed, revealing needle-thin teeth.

Remus’ brain short-circuited. He looked from the game to the creature, the logic of magnets and mechanics crumbling into dust.

The silence was broken by a new sound. A roar—a rushing, thundering wind that sounded like a freight train was hurtling down the chimney.

A split second later, the living room exploded. A black, screeching cloud of soot and leather erupted from the fireplace. Dozens of bats poured into the room, their wings beating a frantic, deafening rhythm against the ceiling and the walls.

"Get down!" Sirius yelled, diving toward Regulus to shield him. 

The living room was no longer a place of records and stolen whiskey; it was a swirling vortex of soot and leather. The shrieking was piercing, a high-pitched cacophony that seemed to vibrate inside their skulls.

Lily acted first. With a fierce cry, she snatched a heavy velvet cushion from the sofa and stepped in front of the Black brothers. Sirius had already tackled Regulus to the floor, and was grabbing the thick wool blanket from the sofa to throw over him, probably hoping it'd shield him from the bats' bites. 

Lily was a whirlwind of red hair and floral print, batting the pillow frantically at any shadow that swooped too close. "Out! Get out!" she screamed, her voice barely audible over the thunder of wings.

A particularly large bat dived toward Sirius' head, its talons tangling in his dark hair. Remus didn't think; he grabbed the nearest glass of whiskey and flung the amber liquid at the creature, hoping it'd scare it off. The bat let out a startled hiss, the sting of the alcohol apparently enough to send it spiraling away toward the ceiling.

Remus soon realized they were just trapped in a box with a nightmare. He looked around frantically for a way out of this situation. The door. They needed to get out. But the bats couldn't stay inside, his parents will come back eventually... they needed to get the bats out. The door.

He ducked low, dodging the arc of Lily’s pillow, bolted for the front door and threw it wide open. He didn't stop there. He lunged for the windows, shoving them upward until the weights rattled in the frames.

"Usher them out!" Remus ordered, waving his arms like a madman.

Lily shifted her tactics, using the pillow to drive the black cloud toward the open windows. Sirius, seeing the opening, used Remus' previous tactic and began flicking the remaining whiskey from the bottle like a holy water ritual, forcing the bats to veer away from that side of the living room.

Suddenly, the body under the blanket in the middle of the floor shifted. Regulus emerged, his face pale but his jaw set with a sudden, desperate clarity. Despite Sirius’ shout of "Regulus, get back under there!", the younger boy ignored him and sprinted for the kitchen.

A few seconds later, he re-emerged, wielding a heavy copper saucepan and a metal ladel.

CLANG. CLANG. CLACK-CLANG.

The sound was deafening, a sharp, metallic ring that cut through the bats' own sonar.

"Brilliant, Reg!" Remus shouted. He snatched up a heavy brass bookend from a shelve and began hammering it against the radiator.

The combination of the open exits, being battered by pillows and thrown liquid from one direction, and the rhythmic, ear-splitting noise was too much for the winged hunters. One by one, then in frantic clusters, the bats began to stream out of the windows and the front door, disappearing into the twilight of the London streets.

Remus slammed the windows shut and then the front door. He leaned his back against it, his chest heaving. Lily collapsed onto the sofa, her pillow leaking a few stray feathers. Sirius stayed on the floor, breathing hard, his expensive blue shirt now stained with sweat and whiskey.

Regulus stood in the center of the room, still clutching his saucepan, his hands trembling.

The room fell into a terrifyingly sudden silence, broken only by the scratchy sound of their rugged breathing. They all turned their heads slowly toward the coffee table.

The game was still there. The green light in the center was fading, waiting for the next person to dare touch the dice.

"What the actual fuck?" Remus breathed out, his voice cracking. He stayed pressed against the front door, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

Lily scanned her eyes over all of them, her breathing shallow but her gaze sharp. "Is everyone... is everyone okay? Nobody’s hurt?"

They all took a second, glancing at their trembling hands and soot-stained sleeves, before silently nodding. Lily breathed out a long, shaky sigh of relief. "Good. That’s good."

Their eyes all drifted, as if pulled by an invisible tether, back to the coffee table. The game sat there in the center of the debris—scattered crisps, spilled whiskey, and the heavy silence of the room.

"That came from the game," Regulus uttered, finally giving voice to the horrific certainty that had settled over them like ash. It wasn't a question; it was a verdict. He remained anchored to the spot, his knuckles white as he strangled the handle of the copper saucepan.

"It’s physically impossible," Sirius said, though his usual sassy confidence was nowhere to be found. He looked at the window where the last bat had vanished. "It doesn't make any sense. It’s a wooden box, for god’s sake."

Regulus glared at him, his grey eyes flashing with a sudden, sharpness. "Well, neither does a drumming sound that comes and goes as it pleases, or tokens that know maths and move on their own, Sirius! None of it makes sense, but it’s happening."

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but found he had nothing. He just looked at the board and then back to the empty air where the bats had been.

"I mean, the game did give us a riddle," Remus said, stepping away from the door. He let out a crazy-kind of laugh, a short, breathless sound that bordered on hysteria as he shook his head. He was scared shitless, his mind frantically trying to find a logical shelf to put this on and finding only empty space. "The game gave us a riddle, and then the answer to that riddle was suddenly in my living room."

"So the riddle is just a warning," Lily muttered, her face going pale as the implication sank in.

Sirius scoffed, a jagged, humorless sound. "Great. We're playing a game that gives us riddles as a warning to figure out in the seconds before the next deadly thing comes out. Wonderful. Best game ever."

Regulus snapped his head to look at his brother, his voice rising in pitch. "No. No, there’s no 'next' deadly thing. That’s it. We’re not playing anymore. We’re leaving it. We’re burning the thing, or... or something, I don't care. We need to get rid of this so-called-game before it ends up killing us."

They all looked at each other silently. Then Remus found himself walking back to the table, drawn to the carvings.

"Rem, what are you doing?" Lily rushed to his side, her hand reaching out to pull him back.

"Don't you dare roll those dice, Lupin!" Regulus warned, his voice small but fierce.

Remus put his hands up quickly. "I won't, I won't! I’m just looking... I’m looking to see if it says anything else. There were more words on the other side."

He crouched down, his nose nearly touching the dark wood as he read the second inlaid panel. His voice was a low whisper as he read it out loud for the group:

"Adventurers Beware:

Do not begin unless you intend to finish.

The exciting consequences of the game will vanish

only when a player has reached Jumanji and called out its name."

A heavy, suffocating silence followed.

"Vanish?" Lily frowned, thinking, as she looked at the soot on the rug and the whiskey stains on the floor. "You mean... if we finish the game, all of this... everything goes back to how it was before?"

"Great," Sirius muttered, his eyes narrowing as he sat down beside Remus. "Well, we must finish this then. If we want those bats to stay gone and the house to be clean before your parents get back, we have to get to the end. Let’s be quick and get it over with."

Remus shook his head, "No way. I'm completely okay with clenaning the rug and the floor myself, and I'm pretty sure the bats will stay gone. We're not playing anymore." He ran a shaky hand through his wavy, shaggy hair.

"Oh, come on." Before anyone could say anything else, Sirius’ hand shot out and he snatched up the ivory dice.

"Sirius, no! Don't! " Regulus shouted.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Remus yelled, reaching for Sirius' wrist, but it was too late. He dropped the dice.

"What have you done, you absolute idiot?!" Lily cried out, her hand flying to her mouth. "Haven't you learnt anything from the first round?"

Sirius didn't answer. They all looked as the dice clattered across the wood with a sound like rolling thunder.

A five and a three.

The dog-shaped token slided forward, the wooden base clicking rapidly against the board.

The green eye in the center began to swirl again. This time, the smoke wasn't emerald; it was a thick, swampy yellow that smelled faintly of rotting vegetation and hot sand.

"Sirius, you absolute prat," Remus hissed, leaning in despite the instinct screaming at him to run.

The words formed, glowing with a sickly, pulsating light, and Sirius read:

"A dragon’s name but no wings to fly, a flick of the tongue as you pass by. One drop of spit to seal your fate, he’ll follow you and simply wait."

"A dragon?" Regulus whispered, his voice trembling so hard it was barely a breath. "It's bringing a dragon into your house, Remus? We’re going to be ash. We’re going to be actual ash. We're dead."

"It says 'no wings to fly,'" Lily pointed out, her fierce mind already dissecting the riddle even as she backed away from the table. "And 'flick of the tongue.' It’s not a mythical dragon, Reg. It’s something real."

"Oh, brilliant, just a real dragon then," Sirius breathed out a small hysterical laugh, frantically looking for a weapon. He grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from the side table. "That makes it so much better. I'll just hit it with this, shall I?"

Regulus gave Sirius a feral, watery glare. "Well if you hadn't rolled the dice, you insane, selfish arsehole—"

"Wait," Remus said, his eyes widening as a memory from one of his father’s National Geographic magazines surfaced. "A dragon’s name... flick of the tongue... the spit..." He felt the blood drain from his face. "Fuck. It’s a Komodo Dragon."

"A what?" Sirius asked.

"A giant lizard," Remus breathed, looking toward the dark hallway. "The biggest in the world. They’re heavy, they’re fast, and their saliva is full of deadly bacteria. If it bites you, you don't die right away. It just follows you until you drop."

"Lovely," Lily whispered, her hand tightening on Remus' arm. "Truly lovely."

From the shadows of the hallway, a sound emerged. It wasn't the frantic fluttering of the bats. It was a heavy, rhythmic thump-hiss, thump-hiss. The sound of a massive, scaly belly dragging across the floorboards.

Then, a flick of a long, forked yellow tongue darted out from the darkness, tasting the air.

The creature that crawled into the light was nearly ten feet long. It was a mottled, prehistoric grey, with powerful, bowed legs and claws that left deep gouges in the wood. Its eyes were cold, unblinking yellow slits. It swung its heavy head toward the table, a thick, ropey strand of drool hitting the rug with a wet splat.

"Don't move," Remus whispered. "They hunt by scent and movement."

"It’s looking at the crisps," Regulus whimpered, his eyes fixed on the beast.

"It’s looking at us, Reg," Sirius corrected, his voice tight. "Remus, tell me you have a very large cage in your bedroom."

"I have a wardrobe," Remus deadpanned, his sarcasm a shield against the absolute terror of seeing a three-hundred-pound lizard in his living room. "I’m sure it’ll be very comfortable in there with my school jumpers."

The Komodo Dragon let out a low, reptilian hiss and lunged. It was shockingly fast—a blur of grey muscle and snapping jaws.

"Go! Up on the furniture!" Lily screamed.

She scrambled onto the sturdy oak dining table just as the lizard’s head slammed into the leg of a chair, splintering the wood like it was tinder. Sirius grabbed Regulus by the collar of his expensive blue shirt and hoisted him onto the sofa back, leaping up after him.

Remus dived for the sideboard, pulling himself up just as the creature’s tail whipped around, shattering the record player stand. He winced as the whole machine hit the floor.

"We have to get it out!" Lily yelled from the table, looking around for anything to use. "Or trap it!"

"How?" Sirius shouted back, dodging as the dragon began to claw at the sofa cushions. "It’s a tank with teeth!"

Remus looked at the open kitchen door. "The meat! Dad bought a roast for Sunday—it's in the fridge!"

"I'll get it!" Regulus said, his fear suddenly replaced by a desperate need to be useful. Before Sirius could stop him, Regulus leaped from the back of the sofa to the sideboard, then to the kitchen counter.

"Regulus, come back!" Sirius roared.

Remus darted behind him, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

The dragon turned, its heavy body pivoting with terrifying agility, and began to scuttle toward the kitchen, its claws clicking like hailstones on the floor.

The kitchen was a blur of linoleum and cold chrome. Regulus was already yanking at the heavy door of the fridge, his breath coming in short, jagged gasps.

"There!" Remus pointed, his hand trembling.

Wrapped in butcher’s paper, the Sunday roast sat on the middle shelf—a massive, raw slab of beef that looked far too heavy for the small ten-year-old to wield, so Remus grabbed it instead, the cold blood seeping through the paper and staining his hands.

"I’ve got it! Reg, get the door!"

They turned just as the Komodo dragon’s head crested the kitchen threshold. It hissed, a low, guttural sound that vibrated in the floorboards, its yellow eyes locked onto the scent of the raw meat.

"Over here, you prehistoric prick!" Sirius yelled from the hallway. He was standing near the door to Lyall and Hope’s bedroom, which was the biggest and closest to the living room, waving his arms to keep the creature’s attention divided.

Remus unwrapped the paper, the metallic scent of the beef filling the air. He tossed a small chunk of fat toward the dragon. The lizard’s head snapped out, catching the morsel mid-air with a sickening crunch.

"It’s working," Lily breathed, standing on the dining table to keep a bird’s eye view. "Lead it toward the bedroom! Remus, now!"

Remus and Regulus moved in a frantic, coordinated dance. They backed down the hallway, Remus trailing the bloody roast along the floor like a lure. The dragon followed, its heavy body swaying, claws gouging deep, permanent scars into the Lupin family’s hallway floorboards.

"Almost there," Remus whispered, his voice tight. "Just a bit further..."

They reached the doorway of his parents' bedroom. It was a room of quiet blues and the scent of lavender—a sanctuary that was about to be violated.

"Sirius, get the wardrobe open!" Remus barked.

Sirius dived into the room, yanking open the heavy, dark oak doors of the massive free-standing wardrobe. He threw his father’s suits and his mother’s coats onto the bed in a heap, clearing a cavernous space.

"Ready!" Sirius shouted.

Remus took a deep breath, looked at the beast now only three feet away, and hurled the entire roast into the back of the wardrobe.

The dragon didn't hesitate. It lunged, a grey blur of prehistoric muscle, disappearing into the dark depths of the furniture to claim its prize.

"NOW!"

Sirius and Remus slammed the heavy oak doors shut at the same moment. The impact was followed immediately by a thunderous BOOM from inside as the dragon realized it was trapped. The wardrobe rocked on its base, the wood groaning under the pressure of three hundred pounds of angry lizard.

"It’s going to break out!" Regulus cried, backing away as the doors began to bulge.

"Not if I can help it," Lily said, sprinting into the room. She grabbed the heavy, high-backed wooden chair from Hope’s vanity and Regulus rushed to help her. They wedged it firmly under the wardrobe’s handles.

Remus didn't stop there. "Sirius, help me with the chest of drawers!"

The two boys grabbed the heavy mahogany chest from the wall and shoved it with everything they had. The legs screeched against the floor until it was flush against the wardrobe doors, pinning the vanity chair in place.

The wardrobe shook violently one last time, a muffled, frustrated hiss echoing from within, and then—silence. Only the sound of the dragon tearing into the beef remained.

The four of them stood in the center of the bedroom, chests heaving, covered in a mixture of soot, flour, and now, raw beef blood. Sirius’ and Regulus’ expensive blue shirts were ruined, the starched collars wilted and grey.

"My parents are going to kill me," Remus breathed, staring at the barricaded wardrobe. "That was the Sunday roast. And there's a Komodo Dragon in their wardrobe. And dad's suits are on the floor."

"Better his suits than your legs, Rem," Lily said, wiping a smudge of blood off her forehead. She looked at the door, then back at the hallway. "We have to keep moving. The game is still open."

Sirius wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, a wild, jagged grin returning to his face despite the terror. "Well. That was certainly more exciting than Wordsworth."

They all glared at him.

Regulus sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands still shaking. He looked at Remus with those wide, grey eyes. "I don't want to play anymore, Rem."

Remus exhaled deeply. "I hate to say this, but there's no way we can leave the game like this now. The only way for the dragon to vanish is to end the damn game. And it needs to vanish, because if my parents find it they're going to kill me. Unless it kills them first."

If only Sirius hadn't fucking rolled, Remus thought bitterly. We could have easily lived with a mess in the living room and fucking bats flying around London.

They slowly walked back into the living room. The wreckage was total: the record player was smashed, the rug was ruined, and the air smelled like a swamp.

The Jumanji board sat on the table, the green light pulsing gently, waiting.

"Who wants to go next?" Sirius asked, his hand reaching for the whiskey bottle for a fortifying swig.

Remus and Regulus shared a hesitant look.

Remus sighed again, better to get this over with quickly. 

He took the dice and pressed them into his palm, cold and mocking. Regulus quickly reached over and wrapped his small, trembling hands firmly around his own. The boy’s face was a mask of pure, unadulterated terror, his grey eyes—so like his brother’s—shining with unshed tears.

"Please, Remus," Regulus whispered, his voice cracking. "Don't. Just... just leave it. Please."

Remus felt a sharp pang of guilt. He looked around his ruined living room and then back at the terrified ten-year-old. Slowly, Remus let his fingers relax.

Regulus exhaled a shaky breath and slowly uncurled Remus' fingers, taking the dice into his own hands. He leaned over the table, intending to place them gently back in the side compartment of the board.

But Sirius wasn't having it.

"We can't stop now, Reg! There's a lizard in the wardrobe!" Sirius lunged forward, his movements erratic and fueled by a desperate need to be back in control. He grabbed Regulus’ wrist, intent on forcing the game forward. "We have to finish it to make it go away!"

"No! Sirius, stop!" Regulus cried, trying to pull away.

In the scuffle, Sirius gave Regulus’ arm a sharp, impatient shake. The dice flew from Regulus’ startled grip, clattering loudly against the wood of the Jumanji board.

The room went deathly silent. Regulus went pale as a sheet, staring at the dice as they settled. A three and a one. He turned to Sirius, the tears finally spilling over. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he shrieked, his voice raw with a mixture of fury and fear. "ARE YOU STUPID? YOU’RE GOING TO GET US KILLED!"

Sirius looked taken aback, his expression softening as he realized he’d overstepped. He reached out, grabbing Regulus by the shoulders of his stained blue shirt. "Reggie, listen to me," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "We need to finish the game. It’s the only way to get the 'normal' back. There's a giant lizard in our Rem's house and it could break out at any moment. We have to."

"And who's fault is that? Why do you keep making decisions that ruin things?!" Regulus cried.

Sirius looked back at him with hurt in his eyes.

"Guys," Remus said soflty, "what's done is done. All we can do now is keep moving forward and finish this together."

The wooden cat token scurried forward four spaces, its tiny wooden feet clicking against the board like a real predator.

In the center, the green mist swirled into a bright, static-like yellow. Lily leaned over, her face set in a grim line as she read the new riddle:

"A golden hum, a tiny spark, they seek the warmth within the dark. A stinging kiss for those they find; leave the glowing lamps behind."

"A stinging kiss?" Remus frowned, his eyes darting around the room. "And... leaving lamps behind? What does—"

Bzzzzzzzzzz.

A low, electrical humming began to fill the room. It sounded like a faulty transformer, or a thousand tiny wires snapping at once. From the ceiling light fixture, tiny, glowing orbs began to drop like sparks from a fire.

They weren't sparks. They were insects—small, translucent flies with wings that glowed with a flickering, golden electricity. There were hundreds of them, swarming around the main light bulb in the center of the room.

"What the fuck is that," Regulus breathed out shakily, ducking as one zipped past his ear with a sharp crack-pop of static.

"Language, Reggie!" Sirius snapped.

"I have no idea, mate." Remus said, swatting at the air.

"The riddle says 'a stinging kiss,'" Lily noted, watching as the swarm began to descend from the light bulb toward the heat of their bodies. "They're seeking the warmth!"

One of the flies landed on Sirius’ hand.

"OW! Bloody hell!" Sirius barked, shaking his hand violently. A small, red welt appeared on his knuckle, looking exactly like a cigarette burn. "It’s like a bloody shock! It’s like sticking your finger in a light socket!"

The swarm, sensing the heat from their frantic movements, began to dive.

"The lamps!" Remus shouted, his brain clicking into gear. "The riddle says 'leave the glowing lamps behind'! They’re attracted to the light and the heat!"

"Turn them off!" Lily demmanded, diving for the floor as a dozen golden sparks buzzed over her head. "Turn off every light in the house!"

Sirius lunged for the floor lamp, clicking it off. Remus scrambled to the wall switch and slapped it down, plunging the living room into near-total darkness, save for the faint orange glow of the streetlights outside and the eerie, pulsating gold of the flies themselves.

The insects seemed confused for a moment, circling the dead light bulb in a frantic cloud.

"They're still coming for us," Regulus whispered frantically. "We're warm! We’re the only warm things left!"

"The window!" Remus realized. "Open the window again! The streetlamps outside are brighter and hotter than we are!"

Sirius threw the window back open. The cool night air rushed in, but more importantly, the high-pressure sodium streetlamp just outside the flat was glowing with a fierce, amber heat.

The flies hesitated, their collective hum rising in pitch.

Regulus grabbed a pillow and started swatting, driving the sparks toward the open window. The other three followed suit, and the collective woosh of velvet and feathers created a localized wind that forced the insects out. The golden cloud surged toward the amber heat of the streetlamps, pouring through the window like a stream of fallen stars vanishing over the London skyline.

Remus slammed the window shut and slumped against the wall in the dark.

"Is everyone... un-zapped?" he asked, his voice shaking with a tired sort of sarcasm.

"You did not just make that joke." Regulus deadpanned.

"I think I’ve lost the feeling in my thumb," Sirius grumbled, though he sounded relieved.

Lily let out a long, shaky breath. "That was... easier. At least it wasn't another dragon."

In the shadows, Remus noticed that Regulus was still shaking. Remus reached out, finding the younger boy's hand in the dark and squeezing it. Regulus squeezed back, hard.

Sirius reached out and clicked the lights back on. The room was still a disaster, but the golden flies were gone. He looked at the board, then at Remus.

"Your turn, Rem," Sirius breathed out. 

The adrenaline that had sustained them through the bat-cloud, the dragon-trap and the stinging-flies was beginning to curdle into a cold, heavy exhaustion. They sat back down around the coffee table, their movements slow and hesitant. The room was a graveyard of their childhood innocence: the ruined rug, the smell of burnt static, and the faint, wet sound of the Komodo dragon tearing into the Sunday roast in the next room and clawing at the wood of the wardrobe door.

Remus’ hands were shaking so violently that the ivory dice rattled together like teeth. He looked at Sirius, whose expensive blue shirt was torn at the shoulder, and then at Lily, whose face was smudged with soot but whose eyes remained fiercely fixed on him. Finally, he looked at Regulus, who looked smaller than he had an hour ago, huddled in the shadow of the sofa.

"Let's just get it over with," Remus whispered tiredly.

He didn't even shake the dice. He simply let them fall from his hand.

A three and a two.

The wolf token began its lonely, wooden trek across the board. Click. Click. Click. It stopped on a square deep within a painted thicket of vines.

In the center of the board, the green eye didn't glow yellow or green this time. It turned a deep, obsidian black, swirling like a drain. The smoke that rose from it was thin and smelled of damp earth and ancient decay.

Remus leaned forward, his voice a mere ghost of its usual strength as he read the script:

"In the jungle you must wait, until the dice read five or eight."

A deafening silence fell over the room as they looked at each other in confussion. 

Remus suddenly felt a tingling sensation in his hand and looked down. The blood rushed from his face.

"Wait?" Sirius asked, his brow furrowing. "Wait for what? What does it—"

"My hand," Remus gasped.

They all looked at Remus’ left hand as he held it up and stared at it in horror. Everyone's eyes widened. It was becoming translucent. The skin was losing its color, turning into a hazy, shimmering grey. Then, the edges began to fray, stretching out into long, wispy ribbons of smoke that were being sucked—inch by agonizing inch—toward the swirling black center of the game.

"Oh my god, Remus!" Lily shrieked, lunging across the table to grab his arm.

"What the hell! What is happening to you?!" Sirius yelled, his voice pitching high with pure, unadulterated terror. He grabbed Remus’ shoulder, trying to pull him back, but his hands passed through the shimmering edges of Remus’ torso as if he were trying to hold onto a cloud.

"What the fuck! What the fuck?!" Remus yelled, his voice sounding thin and distant, as if he were already speaking from the bottom of a well. 

He tried to jump back, but the board had a grip on his very essence. His legs began to dissolve next, the fabric of his trousers and his socked-feet turning into grey mist and being swallowed into the center of the game.

Regulus' face was a mask of horror. His eyes were wide and he was crying and shaking as he stared at Remus. "It’s taking him," he choked out, "The game is taking him!"

"No! No, it won't!" Sirius roared, throwing his entire weight onto Remus, trying to anchor him to the spot. "I’ve got you, Rem! I’m not letting go!"

Lily began crying too, her hands frantically grasping at Remus’ face, trying to keep him in the room, trying to keep him physical, real. "Remus, look at me! Stay here! Don't look at the board!"

"I can't—" Remus’ voice was a frantic, high-pitched sob of confusion and pain. "I can't feel my legs! I can't feel anything! What the fuck?!"

The vacuum from the center of the board intensified. A sudden, violent gust of wind whipped through the living room, pulling the curtains toward the table and knocking over the glasses and the snack-filled bowls.

With a sound like a single, sharp intake of breath, the game surged—and pulled what was left of Remus inside itself.

"REMUS!" Sirius screamed, his fingers clawing at the air where his best friend's chest had been a second ago.

And then, the sound stopped. The wind died.

The living room was silent.

The wolf token sat unmoved on its square. The dice lay still.

The three remaining children stood shaking, sobs catching painfully in their throats as their hearts thundered in their chests. They tried to understand what had just happened, but shock hollowed them out—save for the single, looping image of the game taking Remus.

They waited for something—anything—else to happen. But the space where Remus Lupin had been stayed empty. He didn't come back.

The game had sucked Remus into it. Jumanji had him now.

Remus was gone.

The silence that followed Remus’ disappearance wasn't empty; it was a vacuum, a hollow space where a boy used to be. The three children stood paralyzed, sobbing, in a state of shock, until the sound of a key turning in the lock shattered the stillness like a gunshot.

The front door swung open. Lyall and Hope Lupin stepped into the flat, their faces tired but etched with a guilt that had evidently brought them home early.

Sirius, Lily, and Regulus startled and jumped, whipping around with wide, bloodshot eyes. Tears were still streaming down their faces, carving clean tracks through the soot and flour that coated their skin.

Lyall stopped dead when he saw them. He looked at the three children, then at his watch. "What are you doing here?" he demmanded, his voice edged with confusion.

The kids couldn't find their voices. Their throats felt as though they’d been swallowed by the same mist that took Remus.

"Remus must have invited them over, love," Hope said softly, starting to take her shoes off. 

"Didn't he have a headache?" Lyall deadpanned, taking his shoes off as well.

Hope walked further into the living room, her expression shifting to concern the moment she really looked at their faces—the sheer, unadulterated terror written in their expressions.

"Oh, goodness," Hope whispered, approaching them with her hands outstretched. "Are you alright? What happened? Are you hurt?"

They remained frozen, a tableau of trauma.

Lyall didn't see the children's terror yet; he saw the wreckage. His eyes swept over the room: the pillows on the foor, the whiskey bottle on the table, the shattered record player, and the soot from the chimney and splashes of alcohol staining the floor and rug.

"What in the name of—" Lyall snapped. "What have you done to this room? Remus! Remus John Lupin, get out here this instant!"

Lyall started pacing around the living room, taking everything in. He gestured vaguely at the debris as he walked, his irritation mounting with every step. "Do you have any idea how much that record player cost? And the rug—Hope, look at the rug, it’s a total loss. I expected a bit of maturity from him, but the moment we leave him home alone he causes this mess? It’s an utter lack of respect."

He went down the hallway and peered into Remus' empty room. "Remus! If you're hiding in here I suggest you come out now and face the consequences like a real man, for god's sake. Come out and explain this mess!"

Hope didn't seem to care much about the furniture. She looked at Lily, who was now sobbing so hard she was doubled over and knelt in the soot beside her.

"Oh, sweetheart," Hope murmured, pulling the girl into a firm, protective embrace. "I don’t know what’s occurred here, but it'll be okay. It’s going to be alright. Just breathe. I’m right here. I've got you. All of you."

Lily could only shake her head, a broken, strangled sound escaping her throat. "I’m sorry," she gasped out, the words wet with salt. "I’m so, so sorry."

Hope’s frown deepened, her own eyes filling with a sudden, sharp dread. "Sorry for what? Could you tell me what happened, please, love?"

The boys were no better. Regulus was staring at the empty spot where Remus had last been, his breath coming in jagged, silent hitches. Sirius was vibrating with a frantic energy, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish.

"I’ve had quite enough of this," Lyall snapped, turning back from the empty hallway. He pointed a finger at the front door. "I don’t know what kind of stunt you’re pulling, or how you managed to destroy my home in less than an hour, but you are leaving. Now. I need to have a word with my son alone."

"He's not here!" Sirius blurted out, the words exploding from him in sobs.

Hope blinked, confused. "Not here? Where did he go?"

They couldn't explain. How could they say he was inside a piece of wood? How could they explain that the game had swallowed him? Every time they tried to speak, the memory of Remus’ skin turning to smoke choked the words back down.

Lyall’s scowl faltered as he properly took in their trembling frames, his irritation finally giving way to confusion. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, and the anger seemed to drain out of him all at once, leaving him feeling suddenly exhausted. "Go home," he said, his voice dropping to a low, gentle murmur. He gestured toward the door with a weary hand, his gaze flickering over them. "Just go home. We’ll take care of this mess."

The kids stumbled toward the front door in a blind, panicked rush. Their hands fumbled with laces as they put their shoes on, their movements clumsy and frantic. They were operating on pure, lizard-brain survival instinct now.

"Lyall!" Hope argued, her voice rising in distress. "Look at them! They’re in shock! Something happened!"

"I am looking at them," Lyall said tiredly. "That's why I don't think they should be here when we talk to Remus—he won't want to have this conversation in front of an audience. What they should do is go home and calm down; I'm sure Remus can tell us what happened himself, whenever he finally decides to reappear. Just... let them go, Hope. Staying here doesn't seem to be doing them any good."

Hope turned to the three of them as they opened door with shaky hands. "Do you need a lift? Please, let us drive you—"

They shook their heads in a frantic blur and bolted downstairs and out of the building into the cool London night, disappearing into the shadows of the street.

The three friends had left in such a state of terror and shock that they hadn't thought to grab the game.

The only way to bring Remus back was sitting in the middle of the Lupin house, its wooden heart still alive and waiting for the next turn, which wouldn't come until a decade later.