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"Yellow things. Letter W."
The room fell silent.
"That's easy," Sirius declared.
"Go on, then."
"Wood."
A beat.
"Wood isn't yellow."
"It can be."
"No."
"Some wood is yellow."
"That doesn't count."
"It should."
"It doesn't."
Sirius looked deeply offended. "Fine. Water."
"Water is transparent."
"Not if it's dirty."
"That is somehow worse."
"Wallpaper."
"Wallpaper can be any color."
"Yellow wallpaper exists."
"That's not the game."
"It should be."
Marlene pointed her bottle at him. "If you say one more object that can be literally any color, I'm throwing you out a window."
Sirius nodded solemnly. "Understood." Three seconds later— "Wagon."
"What color is a wagon?"
"Yellow."
"No, it isn't."
"It could be."
"GET OUT."
Remus was laughing into his sleeve.
Peter looked genuinely invested. "What about wheat?"
"Wheat was already rejected."
"Worm."
"Worms are not yellow."
"There are yellow worms."
"Name one."
"The yellow worm."
"Helpful."
Sirius gasped suddenly. "Wait." Everyone looked at him. "Waffle."
"Waffles are brown."
"They start yellow."
"Before they're cooked."
"Still yellow."
Evan pointed at him. "He's got a point."
"No, he doesn't."
"He kinda does."
"He absolutely does not."
Sirius sat back looking victorious. Then sat forward again. "W-Water."
Mary groaned.
"Oh my God, he's evolving."
"I am."
"Backwards."
"Wrong."
"Windmill."
"Not yellow."
"Yellow windmill."
"STOP PAINTING THINGS."
Sirius ignored her. "Window."
"No."
"Wheel."
"No."
"Wizard."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because wizards aren't yellow."
"Says who?"
"THE ENTIRETY OF HUMAN HISTORY."
Sirius pointed at Peter. "He's kind of yellow."
"I'M BLONDE."
"Barely."
At this point Regulus had stopped participating and was simply watching his brother deteriorate.
Sirius suddenly snapped his fingers. "WAIT."
Everyone froze.
"I've got it."
"Is it real?"
"Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Whisk."
"What color is a whisk?"
"The whisk color."
"What is the whisk color?"
"You know."
"No."
"The whisk one."
"Silver?"
"Not that whisk."
"There's another whisk?"
"The yellow one."
"That isn't a thing."
"It is."
"No."
"It is in my heart."
Remus slid off the sofa laughing.
Sirius looked around at everyone. "You're all being really closed-minded."
1:12 am
By one in the morning, nobody was actually playing the game anymore. The cards were abandoned. The score sheet had vanished. Someone's shoe was on the mantelpiece. Nobody knew whose.
"Mine," Sirius said confidently.
"It has flowers on it," Mary said.
Sirius looked at the shoe. "Huh." A pause. "Then not mine."
Regulus took another drink. This had been a mistake. Not coming. Coming had been fine. Staying this long had been the mistake. Because now Sirius was approaching the stage of drunkenness where language became optional.
"New category," Marlene announced. Nobody objected. "Things you would not want chasing you."
"Werewolf," Peter said immediately.
Remus stared at him. The room fell silent.
Peter's eyes widened. "Oh no."
"Oh no?" Remus repeated.
"Oh no."
"You said it."
"I know."
"You looked directly at me."
"I KNOW."
Evan laughed so hard he nearly choked. Mary was crying. Even Regulus had to hide a smile behind his bottle.
Peter looked like he wanted the floor to open up and consume him. "I meant a hypothetical werewolf."
Remus nodded. "Much better."
"Thank you."
"Really saved it."
Peter buried his face in his hands.
"Wasp," Barty supplied.
The room erupted immediately.
"WASP."
"WASP."
"IT WAS A WASP."
"THANK YOU."
Sirius sat bolt upright. His eyes narrowed. "No."
Everyone looked at him.
"No?"
"It wasn't."
"It literally was."
"It wasn't."
"It starts with W."
"Yes."
"It's yellow."
"Debatable."
"DEBATABLE?"
Sirius pointed dramatically at Barty. "A wasp is striped."
The room went quiet.
"Striped?" Marlene repeated.
"Striped."
"It's yellow."
"It's also black."
"That doesn't make it not yellow."
"Then zebras are black."
"What?"
"If yellow and black equals yellow, then white and black equals black."
Nobody spoke. Remus slowly lowered his drink. James blinked. Mary looked physically pained.
"What does that mean?" Peter asked.
"I don't know," Sirius admitted.
"Then why did you say it?"
"I thought it sounded intelligent."
Regulus groaned into his hands. Across from him, Evan was nearly falling off the sofa.
"You know what's horrible?" Evan said.
"What?"
"I think he believed that."
"I absolutely believed it."
"See?"
"I still do."
James was laughing so hard he was turning red.
By half past one, the conversation had somehow become: "Could a giant squid beat a dragon?"
The answers varied wildly.
"No."
"Yes."
"Depends on the dragon."
"Depends on the squid."
"How educated is the squid?" Everyone stared at Barty.
"What?"
"Why would the squid be educated?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Most squid aren't."
"That's exactly what they'd want you to think."
"WHO?"
"The squid."
Regulus rubbed his eyes. This was impossible.
Across the room, Sirius had somehow ended up half-draped over Remus. Nobody had witnessed it happen. One minute he'd been sitting in an armchair. The next he'd migrated. Like an exceptionally loud barnacle. Remus didn't seem particularly bothered. Mostly because he was laughing too hard to move him.
"Moony."
"Hm?"
"I've figured it out."
"That's worrying."
"The answer."
"The wasp?"
"The yellow thing."
Remus immediately sat up. "No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"Tell me."
Sirius leaned forward conspiratorially. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Weather."
The room exploded.
"No."
"ABSOLUTELY NOT."
"WEATHER ISN'T YELLOW."
"Sometimes it is."
"NO."
"SUNSETS."
"THAT'S THE SKY."
"WEATHER HAPPENS IN THE SKY."
"THAT ISN'T HOW THIS WORKS."
Sirius looked delighted. Like he'd solved a complex mathematical equation. Regulus looked ready to throw him through a wall. James was now lying on the floor because sitting upright had become impossible. Evan had completely lost the ability to speak. He was just making wheezing noises.
Marlene was hitting the table repeatedly. "WEATHER."
"It's yellow."
"It isn't."
"It can be."
"You are the worst person I have ever met."
Sirius beamed. "Thank you."
By two in the morning, Sirius had forgotten several words.
This became apparent when he pointed at a lamp and said, "Can somebody turn off the glowing furniture?"
Nobody corrected him. Mostly because they couldn't breathe. And partly because it genuinely took everyone a few seconds to realize he meant the lamp.
Then Sirius pointed at Peter. "Why is Wormtail sideways?"
Peter was sitting normally.
"He's not."
"He definitely is."
Regulus closed his eyes. Somewhere, distantly, he could hear Evan telling Barty that if Sirius got any drunker, they'd probably discover entirely new branches of magic. The horrifying part was that Barty seemed to be seriously considering the possibility.
Meanwhile Sirius had become distracted by his own hand. Which was never a good sign. "Oh."
The room quieted.
"Oh no," James said.
Sirius was staring at his fingers. Completely fascinated.
"What?" Remus asked.
Sirius held up his hand. "There are five."
"Yes."
"There were four earlier."
"There wasn't."
"There absolutely was."
"Sirius."
"No wonder I kept dropping things."
At that, even Regulus finally broke. He laughed. A short sound. Barely more than a breath. But Sirius's head snapped around immediately. The room froze.
Because Sirius looked delighted. "REGGIE LAUGHED."
Regulus's smile vanished.
"Don't call me that."
"REGGIE LAUGHED."
"Oh God."
"EVERYBODY."
"No."
"REGGIE LAUGHED."
"Please stop."
"HE LIKES ME."
"I hate you."
Sirius pointed triumphantly. "See?"
And somehow that only made perfect sense to him.
Later
By half past two, the common room had achieved a strange sort of equilibrium. Nobody was capable of holding a normal conversation. Yet somehow everyone understood exactly what was happening. Except Sirius.
Who was losing his war against consciousness one brain cell at a time. "I have a story."
The announcement immediately drew everyone's attention. Not because anyone particularly wanted to hear the story. But because Sirius had made the same announcement three times already and had never actually reached the story.
"Oh good," Mary said. "The story.”
"The story," echoed Evan.
"The story," agreed Barty.
Sirius pointed at them. "Mock me all you want."
"We are."
"I know." He looked pleased. Then he frowned. "Wait." A pause. "What was I saying?"
"The story.”
"RIGHT."
The room settled in.
Sirius sat forward dramatically. "So there I was."
"Where?" asked Peter.
Sirius blinked. "...somewhere."
"Strong start."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
Sirius ignored him. "So, there I was. Somewhere."
"Excellent."
"And James was there."
James groaned. "Oh no."
"And there was a goat."
Silence.
"A goat?" Remus repeated.
"A goat."
James sat upright. "There was not a goat."
"There absolutely was."
"There wasn't."
"There was."
"Where?"
"In the story."
"You just invented the story."
Sirius looked offended. "I would never."
"You invent things constantly."
"Name one."
"Worb."
The room dissolved instantly. Regulus nearly inhaled his drink. Evan was folded in half. Remus had buried his face in Sirius's shoulder again.
Sirius pointed accusingly. "Worb is real."
"It isn't."
"It is."
"It isn't."
"It is in spirit."
"What does that mean?"
Sirius considered this. Then nodded. "Good question." He immediately forgot the conversation. "Anyway. Goat."
"There wasn't a goat."
"There is now."
James buried his face in his hands. Across the sofa, Barty was genuinely taking notes on a scrap of parchment. Nobody knew why. Nobody wanted to know.
"So, the goat," Sirius continued.
"Yes."
"Was a professor."
The room went silent. Even Evan stopped laughing.
"A professor?"
"Professor Goat."
"What did Professor Goat teach?"
Sirius squinted. As though this was a difficult question. "...goat."
"Of course."
"Advanced goat."
"Naturally."
Marlene slid slowly to the floor. At this point, nobody was laughing because the joke was good. They were laughing because Sirius seemed completely sincere.
"Then what happened?" Peter asked.
Sirius stared at him. Then his eyes widened. "Oh."
"Oh?"
"I forgot."
The room erupted.
"THAT'S IT?"
"THERE WAS NO STORY."
"THERE NEVER IS."
"I WAS INVESTED."
Regulus was openly laughing now. Not often. Not loudly. But enough that Evan kept glancing over with a look of complete fascination. As though he'd discovered a rare magical creature.
Sirius spotted this. His face lit up. "REGULUS."
"No."
"Tell them about the fish."
The room quieted.
Regulus froze. "What fish?"
"The fish."
"There is no fish."
"There is."
"There isn't."
"There was."
"There wasn't."
Sirius pointed triumphantly. "Suspicious."
"That isn't suspicious."
"Very suspicious."
"You invented the fish."
"Maybe."
"Definitely."
"Maybe."
Remus was shaking with laughter.
"You know what the problem is?" Mary said.
"No."
"None of us can tell anymore whether Sirius is lying or confused."
"Neither can Sirius."
"Fair."
Across the room, James had become distracted by a decorative suit of armor. Specifically, the fact that it hadn't moved.
"It's been standing there all night."
Everyone looked. The armor remained motionless.
"Yes?" said Marlene.
James pointed. "It hasn't taken a break."
Nobody spoke. Then, "Oh my God."
"I've never seen it sit down."
"Me, neither."
"What if it can't?"
The conversation immediately shifted. As all terrible conversations do.
"What if it wants to?"
"It doesn't."
"How do you know?"
"It's armor."
"Maybe it's tired."
"It's not alive."
"You don't know that."
"It's literally armor."
Barty looked thoughtful. "I think it depends on whether the enchantments permit emotional development."
The room stared at him.
"What?"
By three o'clock, they were debating whether the armor was happy.
Peter was arguing yes. Mary was arguing no. Marlene was attempting to assign it a personality. Evan insisted it was secretly judgmental. Barty had begun constructing a theoretical framework for enchanted emotional growth.
And Sirius— Sirius had somehow circled back.
"I've got it."
Immediately everyone groaned.
"No."
"Not again."
"The yellow thing."
"SIRIUS."
"I know what it is."
"We already know what it is."
"You don't."
"It was a wasp."
"It wasn't."
"It was."
"It wasn't."
"Sirius."
He sat up. Looking unbearably smug. "It's Wednesday."
The room went dead silent. Even Remus stopped laughing.
"What?"
"Wednesday."
"Wednesday is not a thing."
"It absolutely is."
"It's a day."
"A day is a thing."
"Not for this category."
"It starts with W."
"Yes."
"It's yellow."
"NO."
"It can be."
"HOW?"
Sirius looked around. Searching desperately for an explanation. Then his face brightened. "Sunny Wednesday."
The room exploded.
Remus fell sideways into him. James disappeared off the sofa. Evan made a sound that could only be described as dying. Regulus actually had tears in his eyes.
And Sirius— Sirius sat in the middle of the chaos looking deeply satisfied. As though he had finally, unquestionably, won.
Which was unfortunate. Because from the way he was blinking slowly at the room— There was a very real chance he'd forgotten what the argument was about. And would start it again in five minutes.
Later
3:07 am
The fire had burned low. Half the bottles were empty. The other half had been forgotten in increasingly strange locations. One was sitting on the windowsill. One was balanced on top of the armor. One had somehow ended up inside a potted plant. Nobody remembered doing that.
The debate over whether the armor had feelings had finally ended when Marlene named it Gerald and everyone accepted that as fact. Gerald was apparently divorced. The details remained unclear.
Remus had reached that dangerous stage of exhaustion where he looked calm but was actually one sentence away from saying something completely insane.
Mary was the last functioning brain cell in the room. And even she was beginning to crack. "Sirius."
"Hm?"
"You lost."
"No."
"The answer was wasp."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Sirius."
"No."
Mary stared at him. Sirius stared back. Neither blinked.
Eventually Sirius pointed at her. "You're being very aggressive."
"I am."
"Why?"
"Because it's three in the morning."
"Fair."
Then— To everyone's horror— Remus spoke.
"I mean."
The room froze. Because Remus sounded thoughtful. And thoughtful Remus at three in the morning was rarely a good sign.
"I can sort of understand the Wednesday argument."
The common room exploded.
"WHAT?"
"MOONY."
"TRAITOR."
"NO."
Remus immediately regretted opening his mouth. "No, wait—"
James looked genuinely heartbroken. "You were supposed to stop him."
"I know."
"You were the chosen one."
"I KNOW."
Across the sofa, Sirius sat up so quickly he nearly fell off. "I've been saying this."
"You haven't."
"I HAVE."
"You absolutely have not."
Remus rubbed his face. "No, listen."
Nobody listened.
"Sirius was obviously wrong—"
"THANK YOU."
"—but I understand the chain of logic."
The room went silent. The words hung there. Heavy. Dangerous.
Regulus slowly lowered his drink. "Oh, this should be good."
Remus sighed. Already knowing he'd made a mistake. "A sunny Wednesday is yellow."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"It's still not the answer."
"I KNOW."
"But I understand how he got there."
Sirius looked emotional. Like someone had finally understood his art. "Moony."
"No."
"Moony gets me."
"I don't."
"He does."
"I DON'T."
Evan was crying. Not laughing. Actually crying.
"You're defending Wednesday."
"I'm not."
"You literally are."
"I'm explaining Wednesday."
"That's somehow worse."
Sirius climbed halfway onto the back of the sofa. "THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING."
"It isn't."
"It is."
"It absolutely isn't."
"It spiritually is."
Regulus covered his face. Mary looked like she wanted to leave Britain entirely.
Meanwhile, Barty had become distracted by a much more important question. "Can colors have birthdays?"
The room went silent. Everybody turned.
"What?"
Barty looked genuinely curious. "If Wednesday can be yellow."
"It can't."
"Then colors can probably have birthdays."
"Those are not related concepts."
"They feel related."
"They are not."
Peter frowned.
"How old would blue be?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Nobody heard Mary. Because the conversation had already moved on.
"Older than green."
"Definitely."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Green is ancient."
"Green is not ancient."
"Trees."
"What does that mean?"
"Trees are old."
"Not all trees."
"The important ones."
"The important trees?"
"Yeah."
"What are the unimportant trees?"
Nobody had an answer.
Except Sirius. "Small ones."
"That's not how importance works."
"Tell that to trees."
"WHY WOULD I TELL THAT TO TREES?"
Sirius shrugged. "Seems like their problem."
At this point, Regulus had completely given up. There was no fixing this. No saving this. No restoring order. The night had escaped containment hours ago.
The final blow came when James suddenly sat upright. Eyes wide. "Oh my God."
Everyone looked. Except Sirius. Who had become fascinated by a tassel on a cushion.
"What?"
"I've figured something out."
The room collectively groaned.
"No."
"Not another one."
"No, listen."
James pointed dramatically at Sirius. "If a sunny Wednesday is yellow."
"It is."
"Shut up."
Sirius looked wounded.
James continued. "And weather is yellow."
"YES."
"Shut up."
Sirius looked even more wounded.
"And a wizard can be yellow."
"THANK YOU."
"Shut UP."
Sirius slumped.
Then James spread his arms triumphantly. "Then Lily Evans starts with W."
The room froze. Silence. Absolute silence.
Then:
"What?"
James blinked. His smile slowly faded. He looked around. Waited. Thought about it. Thought some more.
"Oh." Another pause. "Oh no."
Remus folded in half, laughing. Marlene screamed. Peter fell off his chair. Even Mary lost it. And Regulus— Regulus laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink.
James stared at the ceiling. Mortified. "I don't know where I was going with that."
"No one does."
"Not a clue."
"I had something."
"You didn't."
"I think I did."
"You absolutely didn't."
James considered this. Then sighed. "Yeah."
Across the room, Sirius pointed at him. "He's making a lot of sense tonight."
The common room dissolved into chaos all over again. And somewhere in the corner— Gerald the armor stood silently. Judging every single one of them.