Disclaimer: Refer to Ch. 1. Not mine, but mine in a way. And yours. So, an argument can be made for… Ours, maybe?
In this Chapter: Finally, James becomes deranged, Snape gets his tentacles, Dumbledore smuggles fireworks, and McGonagall gets a twitch. Walburga gets a cameo, too. And Voldemort muses about power, history… important things, like.
Runaway
By DracoNunquamDormiens
Part Seven: The Lie
.
The arrangement Dumbledore had proposed was something James couldn't deny was brilliant. It certainly took the edge off of lying to people.
Most people anyway.
Remus and Peter had been waiting for him in their shared dormitory when he arrived that Monday, and just one look at them brought James closer to a breakdown than any of the events so far had managed. Their eyes were sunken in and red, and they were unusually quiet and solemn. Pete seemed to have lost a handful of pounds, and Remus looked even worse than he had after a particularly nasty full moon.
James didn't know what to tell them.
Part of him, the part that desperately wanted to make everything better for his best friends, his brothers, was very close to blurting everything out to them. However, he'd promised himself he wouldn't.
For Sirius.
For the very person they were mourning, so they wouldn't have to do it for real.
James couldn't forget — and he wouldn't, not ever — what Sirius had gone through; he knew more than anyone, and yet, he was well aware that he didn't know everything, but he knew more than anyone in the world aside from Sirius himself what had happened, he knew why it had happened, and he had made himself remember every last detail Sirius gave, remembered or let slip through their shared link.
Sirius was in the state he was, because he had been protecting James and his parents. And James would not forget the lengths the Dark Side had gone trying to break him to do their will.
Because it was all depressing, and because he couldn't fake his emotions, this, too, tied in with Dumbledore's plan. Everything he'd clamped down on since Sirius went missing, he could let out here. People would think he was devastated over what had happened to Sirius.
And they'd be right.
Only, they'd think it was over his death, when in reality it was over everything but that last. His death, he was still terrified of. So much could go wrong, so much already had, that he just couldn't make himself trust Dumbledore's plans blindly.
And yet, he followed them to a tee.
He stood in the doorway, aware that he, too, looked every bit as torn up over the matter as they did; and he still tried to come up with something to say to Remus. To chubby little Peter, who'd brewed potions like mad for days, without even stopping to wonder why James needed them at all. He hadn't explained, and Pete hadn't asked (although if he ever did, the story James was supposed to tell had to do with the Battle of Boxing Day).
In the end, he didn't have to say anything at all. Remus stepped up to him, and drew him gruffly into a one-armed hug that nearly broke his resolve not to tell them anything. And then Peter joined in.
"I'm sorry." James mumbled miserably, barely audible over Pete's sobbing. He was apologising for what he had to let them endure until Sirius came back and they cleared things up.
They, of course, understood something else entirely.
Remus hauled James' trunk to his bed, which had been next to Sirius' for as long as he'd slept here. He'd never seen it with the curtains drawn, or indeed so tidy. Sirius always managed to make a mess of his private corner of the world within seconds of his arrival. Not unlike a dog, they had joked; by now, he'd have everything upside-down, clothes and Quidditch paraphernalia and assorted pranks lying around everywhere, up to the very spot where his corner ended and Remus' began. There'd be this sharp end to the Sirius Mess in a straight line, and Remus' pristine private world would begin. It was like he was marking his territory, James had often said.
"His mother is coming in the morning," Remus said at last, when James was sitting on his own bed, unpacking his things in silence. "I overheard McGonagall telling the teachers earlier."
James' eyes wandered to Sirius' trunk at the foot of his bed, and then to Remus'.
"If there's anything you want from there, maybe you should get it out before she arrives."
.
.
It was harder than he'd thought.
Not just because it was ugly, going through Sirius' things without him there, but because the spells on the thing were much more refined than James could ever have given him credit for. It was a mood-lightener, however. Particularly after the lid blew up in their faces, only to reassemble itself at once.
Despite themselves, the three Marauders laughed.
"Should've known," Remus muttered, over two hours later, picking his debris-covered self off the floor. "Should've known about that one, sorry."
"You should've known about the last ten, you mean," Peter corrected. "If I have to put myself out one more time…"
"You won't have to, not again," James said confidently. "I'm telling you, eleventh time's the charm…"
BANG.
"Okay, make that twelve. Twelfth time's the charm. Put yourself out, there's a lad."
"Okay, but it was worth it," James told a very battered Remus and Peter an hour later. They were all dishevelled, covered in goo of various different colours, and James was confident the hair on the left side of Pete's head would grow back soon. He was just as sure that the tartan pattern in green and bright pink would wash off his skin in the morning, and he was definitely certain his eyebrows would grow back when he showered later…
He wasn't too sure about Remus, though. He was skunked, plain and simple. And he seemed to refuse to go cover himself in tomato sauce before the trunk was explored. So James had done the only sensible thing; he'd put a bubble charm around him, so he'd not stink everything up. Remus wore a look that said quite plainly, 'If he weren't dead already, I'd kill him on the spot.'
Best of all was the plushie, though. It was a little poodle that had probably belonged to some girl Sirius had to nick it from on a dare, because it was stuffed full of girls' knickers, which James recognised as the results of Dare Week, 1973. And it fired them out, with impressive accuracy. And when they hit, they exploded in a blast of goo. Colourful goo. Goo that sang off-key and very loudly about how private property shouldn't be touched or something. Ironic didn't cover it, and even Remus le pew had to laugh at it.
At last, though, they managed to open it…
"This is supposed to be worth the trouble?" Pete asked incredulously. Remus too, had clearly expected something else as well, because he rifled through the contents and sighed in disappointment. James merely shrugged, holding Sirius' red squeaky ball in one hand, his two-way mirror and pocket knife in the other. There was very little else in there that he thought Sirius would want to keep from his mother's clutches. Maybe his Beater's bat, and his lucky knickers, which were arguably the only clean piece of clothing in there.
"That was Padfoot for you," Remus said, shaking his head sadly. James bristled at the tense he chose to use, even if it was the right one… for now. "There's nothing in there except for his dirty laundry."
"You can keep his boxers," James suggested wryly.
"No, I've got enough of his smelly keepsakes. I'm going to get a shower."
"Me as well," Pete chimed in, and moments later James was left alone, in a room that looked like the Unabomber had gotten at it, frowning at the contents of Sirius' trunk.
This couldn't be it, could it?
Surely the dirty socks and underwear were just the nasal deterrent. He shoved everything aside, wondering where if not here, Sirius stashed his most prized possessions. He didn't take anything important home, except for his wand, as a rule. Where was the Muggle guitar he loved to play — he'd even been getting decent on it at last— or his motorbike magazines? Where were the pranks and candy they'd gotten from Hogsmeade — though James hoped the candy wasn't stashed in his dirty boxers — and where were the other things he owned?
Because he did own other things, right?
Right?
There was nothing there, though. None of James' spells worked at all, there was no fake bottom, nothing. Just some old scrolls and things, half-finished essays and broken quills. And something James couldn't even place afterwards; all he knew was that it bit.
He closed the trunk with a sigh, replacing every last spell he'd taken down, and adding a couple more for Sirius' mother's sake. And then, if only to dispel the nervous energy that was taking a hold of him, he cleaned up every last inch of the room. When he was done, not even the Prewett twins would be able to tell what had gone on here. Or even Perfect Prefect Frank when he did his dormitory rounds.
It was mid-morning when James had arrived, and Remus explained later that he and Peter had been excused from class by Googles to see James when he arrived — "She'll let us off easy every time," Pete commented mournfully, "She didn't even take points for my homework, and it sucked." — so it wasn't until later that he had to face the crowds in the Great Hall.
Pretending that Sirius was dead, now he came to think of it, wasn't all that hard. The Gryffindor House banners had all been fitted with a black stripe, and the candles didn't seem to illuminate the scene in glowing warm light. Girls - who'd have thought there were so many? - fairly threw themselves at him, some sobbing on his shoulder, others quietly crying, but all were red-eyed and subdued.
Except for the Slytherins. They were celebrating.
And everyone, without an exception this time, wanted to know what had happened the night Sirius died. James, who would have regaled them with a grand tale any other time, just shook his head and didn't comment.
Dumbledore gave everyone a speech over dinner, telling them what they had decided was the official story; it went more or less hand-in-hand with what had really happened, Dumbledore especially stressed that Sirius had escaped the Death Eaters to protect the Potters, at which point everyone looked at him, but diverged there at the end: Sirius, Dumbledore said, had managed to reach Godric's Hollow, and James' family had given him the means to escape on a broomstick, on the day of the famed Battle of Boxing Day.
As they all stood for the toast, not one eye was dry, except at the Slytherin table; but then, Sirius had waged a personal war against that House since anyone could remember. There was no love lost there at all.
That night, he, Remus and Peter went up to the Astronomy tower for a small memorial of their own. Sirius had loved jumping off the tower with a broomstick, or into the lake without one, but that wasn't the reason they had chosen to go there. Overhead, the Dog Star could be seen, shining in the sky.
James remained quiet and his friends did the same, each reminiscing on their lost brother as they stared up into the night.
Words had often been unnecessary among them, after all, and this was one such time.
.
.
The very next day, not a handful of minutes after the three Marauders had gotten ready for class, Sirius' mum showed up at Hogwarts to pick up his things, which she had an elf destroy right in front of her loathed son's best friends.
The Marauders stood in silence, watching the sneering witch's expression change to one of confusion as the elf failed to destroy the trunk, and decided to undertake it herself.
The spells on the trunk, which exploded in Walburga's sneering face, were only mildly vindicating.
Sirius' bed was removed from the boys' bedroom while they were attending class, leaving a gaping hole behind that was impossible to overlook, and McGonagall called James over to her office during lunch, to give him Sirius' wand, which his mother hadn't been able to break and discarded in a rubbish pile.
"I thought you might want to keep it," she told him, sniffling a little, and even if he knew Sirius was alive and being looked after by his own parents, for a moment, James realised what it would be like, if he died in earnest.
Everywhere he went, whispers followed him.
Hushed snatches of conversation made it to his ears, and while the first couple of days students focused on Sirius' tragic death, and how sad it was - which James couldn't but agree wholeheartedly with - after a while he started to hear a few new words whispered about his best friend.
Murderer, was one. Death Eater, another.
It made the three Marauders see red.
James was sure the Slytherins had a hand in that, spreading rumours and gossip about how Sirius had killed that Muggle girl, and how he wasn't really dead but in the service of (or captured by) Voldemort. There were many theories and wild stories, but by the time Wednesday rolled by, none of the tales flying about the halls of Hogwarts even assumed that Sirius was anything but guilty of murder.
Snape was particularly vocal in his opinions, telling all manner of stories about Sirius and his fate, which grew increasingly outrageous as his circle of listeners increased. James was forcibly refraining from hexing him into the following week, and Snape, who was nothing if not aware of that fact, only grew louder.
So loud in fact, that his voice carried all the way to the Gryffindor table during dinner on Thursday.
"Everyone knows who the Blacks side with," he said with a sneer. "What makes you think he was, or is any different? He was seen covered in blood from that muggle, and 'course he ran, because he's nothing but a dirty murderer and he was caught red-handed."
James had heard that sort of thing before. What really got to him, as he explained to an irate McGonagall later that night, was that people who had known Sirius for years, members of his House even, were muttering and nodding their agreement.
Snape went on, "I'm sure he holed up with the Lestranges, they're well known to be like that too. Or maybe he killed James Potter and polyjuiced into him." He shrugged, grinning nastily. "I'd watch my back if I were y—."
In hindsight, James thought his reaction to that had been positively mild. Muggle duelling might lack the flashy traits of a wizarding duel, but it was indescribably liberating. Snivellus had even gotten a couple of good punches in, before Prefect Remus pulled James off of him. James silently thanked him for having taken his time to break up the fight, but McGonagall hadn't seen eye to eye with him as she led both James and the snivelling git to get looked at by the nurse and yelled at some more.
James didn't listen, even later he remembered only that the ice pack on his fat lip had felt heavenly.
What he did register though, was when Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing, gave Snape's rearranged face a cursory once-over, and pulled James to his feet by the arm.
"I'll deal with him, Minerva. Follow me, Mr. Potter."
James obeyed in silence, hurrying after the Headmaster. He might look old, but the bloke certainly walked fast.
They seemed to be going nowhere in particular; Dumbledore changed direction every so often, so even James was confused as to where they were going after a few moments. It wasn't until they turned a corner, which was presently devoid of students and faculty alike, that Dumbledore spoke.
"I recall that you were to hold out for the first week."
"Sorry sir. I just couldn't help myself. If you'd heard the things he was saying—"
"But I did. We all did, and were in the process of dealing with it as well. And James, appalling as Mr. Snape's words were, I fear we will hear much worse before this matter is resolved."
"Worse? He was basically calling Sirius a Death Eater!" James exclaimed in outrage. "I couldn't just let that slide!"
"I noticed. But maybe it would have been wiser to hold off. Or at least, refrain from muggle duelling in front of everyone. This way."
James followed, scowling, into a side chamber that looked like it had just materialised on the corridor. Fuming as he still was, James hadn't been paying attention where they were going at all.
Dumbledore clamped a hand on James' shoulder and surveyed him gravely.
"I know we have an agreement, but it does not include harming your fellow students like you did. Remember what is at stake here, he depends on you for safety, as do your parents and Poppy. If you act mindlessly like this in the future, or cannot control yourself, our agreement shall be void."
"Yes, sir. Sorry… sir." James hung his head, shuffling along towards the far end of the chamber, and was earnestly surprised as Dumbledore led him to an enormous grate and threw a fistful of Floo Powder in once they were both inside.
"Godric's Hall!"
James stumbled out of his father's study moments later, absently dusting himself off as he went. He couldn't believe his sheer luck.
"James? Albus?" Coop Potter seemed earnestly surprised to see them both. "We weren't expecting you until next week — what happened to you?" He asked next, instantly concerned. He had spotted the state of James' face.
"Uh, well you see—"
"I'll explain everything, an unforeseen opportunity presented itself," the headmaster said, and only then did James notice the grimly amused twinkle in his eyes. "You have one hour, James. Make good use of it."
He didn't need telling twice.
Sirius looked almost exactly as he had a few days prior when James had left for school, which was disheartening. He was still pale and gaunt and all around ill-looking, and seemed to be sleeping. He did however, open his eyes as soon as James pulled his chair closer to his bed, and recognised him at once, which was a welcome change.
"Your Mum said you couldn't come until next Tuesday," he said hoarsely, shifting in his bed to try and sit up. James hurried to help him.
"Yeah, but something came up. Of course, if you'd rather, I can go and come back on Tuesday."
"No!" Sirius exclaimed at once, alarmed. "Stay."
"I was taking the piss," James replied with a grin. "Actually, I'm as surprised as you are, I didn't think Dumbledore would bring me here today."
"How come?" Sirius asked, and then, "What happened to your face?"
"We were at dinner, right…"
.
.
That night, James slept better than he had in days, and he had trouble acting the part of the bereaved best mate. Sure, Remus and Peter were still as sad as before, and that helped sober him up quite a bit, but James finally had reason to hope and that was harder to hide.
Over the next few days, a routine of sorts developed, where James made sure that he'd get to see Sirius for at least a few minutes every day. He had remained mindful of Dumbledore's warnings, carefully toed the line the headmaster had drawn for him, and even managed to throw comebacks rather than punches whenever he overheard conversations that made Sirius out to be in league with Voldemort.
However, he had vowed to himself he'd make this avalanche of slander against Sirius disappear, and his first order of business was payback on each and every witch or wizard who needed their perceptions righted.
Dumbledore had made it abundantly clear that inflicting any lasting damage on anyone was strictly forbidden, or else. James did not forget the threat, nor did he ever even step out of the line the headmaster had set.
He went around it, in the very creative idiom of the founder of the Marauders, driving anyone and everyone to the brink of insanity over the following week. And, until Sirius returned, James was determined to continue, no matter what.
"Mister Potter! Was that really necessary?" Poor McGonagall seemed to be reaching the end of her ball of string.
James smiled brightly at her, still out of breath from his latest duel, which wasn't even unprovoked this time. Snivellus had been calling someone a Mudblood, and James had been only too happy to retaliate. Who Snivellus had been bullying, he neither knew nor cared.
"Oh, yes it was," he said vehemently. How very necessary it was, James couldn't get out of his head.
Her right eye twitched.
"I'd expel you for that," she announced in clipped tones, "but the Headmaster has asked to deal with you personally - so off with you, and you better wipe that smug look off your face. That's a hundred points from Gryffindor."
"A hundred? That's unfair."
"I'll tell you what's unfair, Potter. Unfair is losing your House a round hundred points so foolishly."
"I thought it was pretty clever, myself." James surveyed his handiwork with more than the usual dose of satisfaction. McGonagall's eyelid jumped again.
"With that mastery of magic, you should be earning those," she countered angrily. James knew she'd love to word things differently, but she was a lion too, and Remus had overheard her ranting about the ridiculousness of the accusations levelled against Sirius, who wasn't even alive to disprove them. He knew, Googles was mourning as well, after her own fashion, and he felt intensely sorry for making her life more difficult.
"I do not care what caused you to do this, but rest assured that it's not going to make your life any easier, Mr. Potter. Now get cracking, you know the way to the Headmaster's office. Mr. Snape, kindly stop your whingeing, it's not like you're dying and Potter's assault was not unprovoked, don't lie to me. Now, pick up your tentacles and go see the Nurse. I shall have a Prefect send you your homework, and you can see Professor Slughorn about your punishment once Poppy releases you…"
"You've outdone yourself this time, James," said Dumbledore a few moments later, shaking his head. "And there I was thinking it was Mr. Black who enticed you to the worst trouble. I am starting to believe it's the other way round. When I said you could get in trouble I meant harmless pranks, not this entirely undeserved act of rage."
"Well Sir, it wasn't entirely undeserved. Not…entirely." James replied, helping himself to a handful of lemon drops. "And it was an act of Transfiguration, not one of rage."
"I see." Dumbledore steepled his fingers, surveying James gravely. "I ought to let you sit out your detention, and not go see him today."
"What?" James nearly choked on a piece of candy, alarmed. Had it really been so bad? He decided that it hadn't. "But sir! You said-"
"I know what I said," answered Dumbledore. "But not only have you harmed a fellow student again, you're out of control."
"Oh come off it, sir, I didn't harm him, I just gave him a makeover." Inwardly, though, James was more than alarmed. Sirius needed him to visit, and it had been Dumbledore's own idea to have James go on a pranking rampage that excused him from being seen around the school for prolonged periods of time, under the pretence of serving a gagillion detentions. James had honoured this agreement.
He could, after all, do so much worse.
"A makeover that has Mr. Snape in the Hospital Wing yet again."
"That's because he's a snivelling git - Besides, I'm mourning the loss of my best mate!" James argued before his headmaster could, making the old wizard chuckle in defeat despite himself. That was when James knew he had him. "I'm devastated, sir! I think it's plain to see, look, I haven't even washed or anything, I-"
"Oh that is plain to see. Off you go then, and tell Sirius that Madam Pomfrey will be along shortly. I believe she is seeing to Mr. Snape…"
"It's just tentacles, they'll go away on their own in a few days," James replied, flippant once more and inwardly relieved. He grabbed another handful of candy and hopping off the chair in one smooth motion. Best leave now before Dumbledore changed his mind.
"Are they now."
"Can't she just leave him like that? It's like, an improvement. Smells better, too."
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, gesturing him towards the jar of Floo powder. "And do wash up while you're at home, you're beginning to resemble Mr. Snape quite closely now."
"Oi!"
"... I would otherwise feel tempted to give you tentacles."
"Oi, sir! That's harsh!"
"Is it? It's just tentacles, they'll go away on their own in a few days."
"Point taken. Alright, she can take them off… too bad I didn't even get to take a picture. Godric's Hall!"
"Better luck next time, James."
In a flash of light, James toppled out of his dad's fireplace, the only one the Potters had left open for travel.
"Hi Dad," he said, not bothering to dust himself off as he trotted out of the office. "You're getting a heavily-worded letter from McGoogles in a few." Coop laughed.
"Hello son, I'll deal with it. Sirius is downstairs with your mother." James' face split into a grin. He hadn't thought Sirius would be out of bed, he'd been incapable of walking before. "She's fattening him up like a Christmas turkey, you better go rescue him."
James left a trail of dust as he stomped downstairs, took the last steps at a jump, and trotted into the kitchen, where his Mum was serving Sirius what looked like a fourth helping of a banquet.
"There I thought I'd need to rescue you," he said for a greeting, pecking his Mum on the cheek and snatching some sausage from Sirius' plate. "Dad says Mum's fattening you up."
"I'm trying," Betty replied for Sirius, shaking her head. "But he's still thin as a skeleton."
"Yeah, you look dog-awful." It was over half a lie; compared to how he had looked a mere week ago, Sirius was the poster boy for health today.
"At least he's keeping his meals down, finally," Betty commented, busy on the stove.
Sirius shrugged one shoulder, mouth too full to speak. James snatched the fork from Sirius' hand and started helping him with his meal.
"Are you eating all of that? Hey, this is good - Mum, are you leaving me to starve here? You know how it's at Hogwarts, awful food, and the portions are so tiny--"
"There now, James, here's your plate. Stop picking on him and let him finish, he needs to be in bed before Poppy comes over for his check-up."
Sirius groaned.
"She only just left," he muttered. "It's not like I'm dying or anything."
"Not anymore, you're not, honey," Betty ruffled Sirius' hair and planted a kiss on his forehead, apparently not noticing he'd almost flinched away at the touch. He was getting better at controlling himself, James noticed. "Go on, eat up and then both of you can go get settled before she arrives - and you better be gone by then, James."
Up in the bedroom, it smelled heavily of healing potions. James helped Sirius sit on his bed and down half a dozen concoctions, after which he promptly pulled a large bar of Honeyduke's best out of his pocket and handed it over, opened.
"To wash the taste away," he explained, sitting on the bedside next to Sirius as he finished downing his morning potions.
"'Ta."
For a few moments, they sat in silence, which was unusual for them, and thus couldn't - or shouldn't, in James' eyes - last long. James watched Sirius for a few moments. He looked every bit as tired and thin as his Mum had claimed, but he was recovering fast now, so it didn't worry him as much as the perpetual silence he seemed to be plunged in.
He was used to a loud and boisterous, happy Sirius who could talk your ears off in record time, not to this quiet, brooding version of his best mate, who could easily go all day and not say a word. It was made worse by the fact Sirius was no longer blocking any of his thoughts or feelings from him - as per James' own request. Knowing what was going on in Sirius' head was depressing, but it also allowed James to figure out ways to get rid of it.
Deciding that quiet time was over, he flopped back on the bed, stretching.
"I can't wait for you to come back to school," he started, as if continuing a conversation they'd been having. He rolled onto his side, taking a bit of chocolate and eating it with relish. "It's dead dull at Hogwarts, Moony actually makes me do my homework by myself."
"Do you reckon he'll be mad?" Sirius asked quietly, turning his piece of chocolate around in his fingers, where it was melting fast.
"Furious," James said happily. "I put a whole lot of gibberish on McG's last essay-" There wasn't even a snort. James propped himself up on one arm, dropping the subject and steeling himself to answer Sirius' real question.
"He won't," he told him earnestly. "I'll explain- no, listen," he added, as Sirius was about to protest. "It's necessary for them to think you're dead, and you know it. I hate it as much as you do, and believe me, it's pretty bloody crappy to see Pete crying his little mousy eyes out every time he thinks we're not looking, and Moony so sad - but we both know Moony will tell Pete, and Pete can't keep a secret for fuck-all. Hell, I'm not even supposed to know you're here, or-" He cut himself off before he said 'alright', because that wasn't true, not yet, "or that you're on the mend," he carried on smoothly. "They'll understand, and I swear you won't have to deal with their anger. After all, it's I who didn't tell them."
"Alright," Sirius mumbled. He still hated it though. It made James feel worse. "You should, though. Tell them."
"Eat that, you're making a mess there."
Sirius did, licking chocolate off his fingers without looking up. James rolled onto his back again.
"Had to hold tryouts," he resumed, in a conversational tone, "I need you back before the Ravenclaw match, mate. They have a wicked Beater now, the McKinnon bloke in fourth year, and I fear he'll manage to crack mine precious head open from the get-go if you're not around to take that blow for me."
It was every team's first (and sometimes only) strategy, to take James out first thing during a game. As the highest scorer Hogwarts had ever known, the longer he was in the air, the worse the opposing team would lose. It was the Gryffindor team's first rule to have Sirius watch James' back for the duration of every game, and thus, they hadn't lost a Cup — or indeed a game — in the four years the two had been on the team.
Sirius snorted, but still didn't look up, nor did he look too amused… or even remotely interested in what James was saying. James, as usual, decided not to dwell on that.
"Googles made me pick a substitute Beater," James went on, undeterred, snorting right after, whilst taking care not to sound too bitter. A tiny glance at Sirius revealed he was indeed looking at him now.
Aha, he thought with something akin to relief, not so far gone after all.
"I had to pick Clearwater," James added, groaning theatrically. Rob Clearwater had tried out before, for every position, and he was so abysmally bad that James considered it a danger to the team to give him a Beater's club and letting him out in public. "He nearly wet himself, he was so excited. I kept your name on the roster, though," he went on, turning to look at the ceiling. "Googles didn't object, but she gave me this weird look - almost as if she were actually human."
This time, Sirius cracked a tiny smile. Point scored, thought James, and rolled onto his side again.
"They all think I'm in denial or something. They let me get away with anything. I gave Snivellus tentacles earlier."
"Purple ones?"
Finally, ye gods. Some interest.
"Hot pink," James answered evilly. "And I used that spell you found last term, you know, the one that makes everything just… stick."
Sirius laughed a bit. Not the barking guffaw James would have earned himself any other day, but he wasn't about to get picky. That laugh would come back when this matter was dealt with, he knew. Or hoped, whichever.
"Poops will have a hard time getting those off," he added with satisfaction, "she won't be here for another hour at least."
"That's a relief," Sirius mumbled. James nodded energetically, as if Sirius had just whooped out loud. Any other time, at least, he would have. There was no chance in hell Sirius enjoyed his healing rounds. He'd witnessed a bunch of them, and they didn't look like they were fun at all.
"No kidding, mate. There's this bit where each tentacle will multiply itself whenever she casts that dissection spell she loves so much, so who knows, she might not cotton on all day."
"That's good."
"Better, it means I can stay longer. McG wanted to expel me, but Dumbledore's fair, so." James shrugged carelessly. "I'm breaking your detention record, though."
"Not in a million years."
"The longer you take to trot yourself back to school," James told him warningly, "the more detentions I'll get. I'm a one-man army now."
"That's … a very near-sighted army."
Silence followed these words. For a few seconds, James stared at his best friend, who had just done a funny. A lame one, but - even a tiny funny was a funny, and James snickered obligingly. Inwardly, he was cheering.
"That's a dangerous army, I'll have you know."
"Because it keeps walking into walls?"
No, James couldn't get used to the soft tone Sirius was speaking in; he couldn't bear to watch the way he was half turned away, not facing him at all but the floor between his own feet, as though he were contemplating toppling over forward if a strong enough breeze happened to blow. But his comments were of the kind he'd missed most, and though everything else was still wrong with Sirius, this was so very right that it was enough to make James' spirits soar.
"Say what you will, Padfoot. Everyone fears me, but I think it's just because your death has gotten to me so badly. I'm James Potter, the Dangerously Unstable."
"So nothing's changed, really."
"When are you coming back, though?" James asked, sitting up. Sirius looked at him for a moment, and James could almost hear his jumbled thoughts in his own head. He knew the answer before it was out, in the same quiet tone that had no business coming out of Sirius' mouth.
"I don't know."
"We need to get you ready for that Ravenclaw game, and prepare your homecoming pranking party- because you're getting one. You need to come back with a right proper bang." This was an attempt at changing the subject, because what he was sensing from Sirius was the sort of feeling he was trying to rout out, though it felt impossible to achieve that just now.
"I think… If- When I go back, I'll sit this season out," Sirius said, and he was earnestly rueful. James' happy bubble, which he'd patched up so many times over the past couple of weeks if only to cheer Sirius up, got yet another puncture.
"What? You can't be serious-" he dismissed the old pun in the face of what he was hearing. "No, you can't, didn't you hear what I said? Eh? Weren't you listening? The Ravenclaws will have my head, and who will come visit you then?" James stared at him in alarm. Sirius sighed heavily, back to examining the floor.
"I'm sorry, James. I really am, it's just…"
"You can have Dad's broomstick," James cut him off hurriedly, sensing the reason for how Sirius felt but not daring to feel relief yet. "Look, I know your broom's gone, as are most of your things, but you can't just sit an entire season out. Dad'll be happy to let you have it, he never even flies anymore." And if his Dad had a problem with it, he could just as well get Sirius a new broomstick. And James too, while he was at it. He even had the model picked out and everything.
"I… No, I couldn't. Your parents have done enough, all of you have, and..."
"Yeah, and we're happy to, so don't come to me with lame excuses," James said, shaking his head. "You're over half a Potter now anyhow, best fly like a Potter too - on a first class broom, not that old twig you had since before school. I'm not taking your name off the roster, and that's final."
Sirius heaved a sigh, but James could tell he was relieved, and thankful, and deep, deep down, he was happy. A little.
"Alright, don't."
And he scores again!
"Wasn't gonna." James let the silence stretch again, waiting for the inevitable-
"What broom has your dad got?"
Score!
"Nimbus 1980," said James, and Sirius' eyebrows rose in appreciation. James grinned at him. "All yours, if you agree to keep that idiot Clearwater off my back this season, I swear he'll knock himself out one of these days."
Sirius didn't answer. Then again, he didn't need to.
"And about your homecoming pranking party," James reminded him gently, as he was slipping back into the brooding expression he'd been wearing ever since New Year's. "Mum said yesterday she reckons you'll be good to go back to Hogwarts in ten days or so, that's barely enough time to prepare that event."
Sirius took some more chocolate, that pensive look on his face that wasn't quite what James had expected to see, even with all the new changes in his best mate's behaviour of late. He'd become more… calculating, colder, more detached, perhaps. And he was definitely analysing every aspect of James' every word; he'd lost a lot, and he was still coming to terms with all of what had happened, the worst of which, James reminded himself, he still didn't know about.
"It has to be grand," James told him gently, rather than shaking him and yelling at him to snap out of it. That would come on its own, wouldn't it? All he had to do was push Sirius back into his old self, one small step at a time. Patience, the sort he'd never thought himself capable of, was coming into play. "And loud…" Sirius' expression changed ever so slightly. "And put everyone on their toes…"
Ah, who was he kidding? James wouldn't let himself feel disappointed, but it was damn hard.
"A bang," Sirius said, and James' head snapped up. That tone had been one he'd missed the most.
"A big one," he agreed, grinning at the devilish expression spreading on Sirius' face.
"A big one," Sirius repeated, and this time, the old grin was unmistakably there. For a moment only, but James' hopes were suddenly soaring again.
"Googles will go deaf out of it," James promised vehemently.
"Are there enough fireworks around?"
"With Dad doing the shopping? We'll wipe Filibuster's clean out."
"Alright," James said a while later, when it was clear he had reached Sirius' limit for marauding interaction for the day. He'd gladly have stayed, but he had exhausted his friend and he knew it. Sirius was trying not to let it show, but he was rather in need of the nurse and probably some more care from the Potters. "I have to dash. Quidditch practice in an hour, and I still need to settle my detention with Dumbledore."
"He makes you do them?"
"Yeah, I do them in my spare time, and without you there, I have a hell of a lot of it," was the response. "C'mon, let's put you in bed before you fall over." Sirius bit back winces as James followed up on his words, which resulted in a now familiar slew of whoops sorrys and groans and ows and more sorrys, but in the end the grey-eyed Marauder was tucked in and marginally comfortable amid his fluffed-up pillows, sipping his sleeping tea and looking like he'd not fall off the bed if he zonked out out of the blue. Because he did that a lot, abruptly and without warning.
James regarded his handiwork critically for a few moments, during which Sirius regarded him back, but his expression was more resigned than anything.
Sure, he knew better than to complain about James leaving, but their shared link had become much more specific, in a way. Before, they had been able to share thoughts, and occasionally look through each others' eyes in times of great danger, but now James could pick Sirius' feelings apart with as much ease as he could his own, and since their mutual agreement, even though Sirius looked away first, ashamed for even feeling what he did, he didn't hide anything he felt from James any longer, tempted though he was.
"I'm sorry," James answered, sitting on Sirius' bedside once again. "I don't want to go, but I have to."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too. But," James took a deep breath, "don't feel bad about it. I miss you too. I'd stay if I could."
"I know you would. I'm—" he thankfully cut himself off before apologising once more, which was an improvement from every single day since James had to return to Hogwarts. Instead, Sirius heaved a sigh, feeling guilty for missing James in the first place, of all things.
Yes, their mindlink had its definite downsides.
"Oh, gah." James clapped himself on the forehead, inwardly kicking himself for his blunder. He'd meant to cheer Sirius up with it, but had completely forgotten. He rummaged around his pockets, fingers long used to the chaos in them sorting through their contents. Sirius, he noted without even needing to look, was watching him with something vaguely resembling curiosity.
"I forgot - here, I rescued them from your mother's raid last week." He handed him his one-way mirror, pocket knife and the favourite red chew toy with the hoarse squeak and tooth marks.
"She was there already?" Sirius asked. James nodded grimly.
"Yeah, last Tuesday. It took us ages to get through that trunk of yours." He'd have expected Sirius to at least crack a smile, but there was no response. "Moony got skunked, and I ended up with tartan skin."
"Sorr—"
"No, don't. It made them laugh; they don't do that so often anymore."
Sirius deflated.
"I miss them."
"And they miss you. Focus on getting better, yeah? I'll be a mirror call away." And while this made Sirius' eyes light up, it made James' day. He placed Sirius' wand on his bedside table.
"Call me after your nap, why don't you?"
"Thanks."
"No problem. Anything you need, just call me up, okay?" Sirius nodded, but the glint was gone again, and James knew who would be calling who on the mirror for a while.
"I'll get going, then," James said, and reluctantly got to his feet. Sirius nodded again, and James hated not being able to stay, when he was plainly needed more here than anywhere else.
"I'll blow up a toilet tonight, who knows, I might get another detention tomorrow," he said, then pulled Sirius into a one-armed hug, out of the blue. "Just focus on getting better, will you? I'm running out of things to break in my fits of rage and mindless destruction over your loss."
"I'll do that," Sirius promised.
James checked his watch even as he closed the door behind him, slipping into an upstairs bathroom as Madam Pomfrey made her way to Sirius' room. Part of Dumbledore's deal included nobody else finding out that James was leaving the school on a daily basis, and that included the nurse. She was risking enough as it was, coming over several times a day to heal Sirius. She didn't need more on her plate.
And, James mused as he descended the stairs, she'd be furious if she ever found out that the sudden increase in students visiting her wing to get various hexes/charms off could neatly be laid at his feet.
"…thank you again for bringing him, Albus," his Mum was saying. "It can't be easy to have James acting out like that on top of everything else, and I know how difficult he can get." James stopped on the landing, listening hard.
"He has been…overly inspired by the assignment," Dumbledore replied, chuckling. "But can you blame the lad? Half the school is siding against Sirius, against his innocence. Friends and House mates even, fewer speak out against even the wildest accusations as time passes. He can't take any of that lying down, and let us be honest, would you? Would I?"
There was no response James could hear, but he assumed his parents had shaken their heads.
"He is a bit of a powder keg right now, however. Anything will set him off, and he has become exceedingly wand happy. I would never have entertained the thought that Sirius could be a calming influence in James' life, but now there is little evidence to the contrary."
"They've been inseparable ever since they met at that party, remember?" Betty said wistfully. James' dad grunted his agreement in the background. "They bonded, and since then there is nothing and no-one who can break them apart. I am sorry it is hard on everyone, but if you want me to keep James from defending Sirius' name… that is something I cannot do. The lad has suffered more than most, for years, trying to turn that horrible prejudice of his name around. It would be doing him a disservice, if we allowed it to reappear in connection with him, particularly now."
"Oh no, I wouldn't ever ask you such a thing. It is not James who needs to stop, it's certain members of our student body who seem intent on provoking him and anyone Sirius was ever friendly with. Horace believes that Severus Snape is one of the main instigators, together with Sirius' own cousin Narcissa... and his brother."
James gritted his teeth to bite back an outraged shout. He hadn't heard Reg trash-talking about Sirius, but he had just found himself another target.
"However, we are all worried. The Gryffindors who are close to them both are devastated, and what James is doing could spark an inter-House war we cannot afford. Minerva said that others are following his example already, and the Slytherins in particular do not stop hitting buttons with her lions."
James couldn't find fault in that, though Dumbledore clearly did.
"In times like these we must stand strong together, and I wish James would use his exceptional leadership skills for something less destructive."
James frowned; he hadn't thought of himself as someone others would follow. Well, except for his three best friends, but they were all borderline insane.
"When Sirius is back, he will surely do so," his Dad said confidently. "We cannot afford another blow like this one, and I am certain our James isn't blind to that. But neither can we be cowed by slander. If we let public opinion, led by the likes of that woman Skeeter, dictate so ignorantly what Sirius is supposed to be like, then it will have consequences. Maybe in a few weeks' time, maybe years from now, but he doesn't deserve that. He has sacrificed enough already, and he will continue fighting this war, Albus, on our side… he could do without the label the public is trying to pin on him. It could get him landed in Azkaban if this trend is unchecked."
"What do you suggest, old friend?" Dumbledore asked. James would like to know too.
"I will make a statement. Right now, the public is divided between believing Sirius a killer, and believing him dead. It doesn't help that his mother has not come forward confirming his death, so I will do so. I'll tell them why he was being hunted as well. What he did, for us and for the Hollow."
"It's a risky move, Coop."
"It's riskier not to do anything," James' father replied. "We are already being targeted, as individuals and as a community both. Sirius nearly died defying Voldemort, protecting us, and by extension, this village - but the public doesn't know that. And I believe they should. I've heard that blockhead Cornelius Fudge is clamouring for Sirius to be given the Dementor's Kiss if he is captured." James hadn't heard that, but the news, though not unexpected, made his stomach plummet.
"You'd be drawing the Death Eaters to your door."
"And I'll make sure if they ever come knocking, they'll be hit hard."
"Very well. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask. I should take James back. James? Come on down, I believe there is a new Beater you must train."
James didn't apologise for eavesdropping, but his expression was very thoughtful as he faced his parents.
"You're talking to the papers."
"This very evening." His Dad confirmed.
"You really think that Sirius could get locked up just because people are spreading lies?"
"Yes. At the very least, he would not have any public support if someone chose to accuse him of something equally far-fetched, now or in the future. Being a Black, he will never be beyond suspicion, and people will be quick to judge every little thing he does wrong. That's why we need to nip this in the bud."
"I want to help."
"Then help," his Mum suggested. "Help Hogwarts be a place without such injustice, without division, rather than further it."
"I've been going at it all wrong, haven't I."
"I believe there is definite room for improvement, darling," Betty said, drawing him into a hug. "We cannot ask you not to be angry, but it is important to remember that we are at war, and actions have consequences." She pulled away, to look into her son's hazel eyes. "So, if we can have Sirius return to a school that doesn't make his life even harder, I'd say those are consequences I could be happy with."
"I'll do my best, Mum."
"I know you will, darling. And James? The box from Gambol and Japes arrived last night, try not to hurt yourself with those things."
"Don't worry, I won't."
He had never thought that one day the venerable Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindelwald and Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, would help him smuggle pranks and fireworks into the school, but that was exactly what happened. He even allowed James the use of the Come-and-Go room for his pranking purposes. Only until it wasn't necessary to earn detentions to see Sirius, but James was coming to see his Headmaster in an entirely new light.
Dumbledore remained in the room with James and helped him unpack the assortment of pranks they had brought. Together, they started devising a plan to achieve something James had not before given a thought to: how to turn Hogwarts into the truly safe haven it was meant to be, not just for Sirius, but for anyone and everyone who needed it to remain as a beacon of the Light.
And, as both wizards soon discovered to their surprise, together they could achieve unthought-of goals.
.
.
"We thought he'd never let you out of detention," Remus commented a handful of hours later, as James left the Head Office, to find Remus and Peter waiting outside, even if it was after curfew.
James forced out a smile. Detention would have been better than the close of his evening with the Headmaster.
He'd gone to Quidditch practice, which was depressingly frustrating and got cut short when Clearwater clubbed himself on the head - as predicted - and the instant he left the Hospital Wing, James had found Dumbledore waiting for him, to take him to his detention.
They had gone over what would happen when Sirius returned, and it was the stuff of nightmares.
"What did he make you do?" Peter asked, handing James a bag with sandwiches, which the latter accepted gratefully. They reached a staircase, and Pete stumbled over his feet. James helped him keep his balance in an automatic reaction.
"Filing," he replied, and it was the truth. They had gone over and prepared Sirius' file for the Wizengamot, with a counter to anything and everything he would be accused of, might be accused of, and could maybe be accused of. The only thing James left out was that he was an Animagus, but worry gnawed on him regardless. What if he'd been seen?
"Snape got detention too," Remus informed grimly. James had all but forgotten about the tentacles. "And you'll never believe who went to Sluggie and accused him."
"Who?" James gave Remus a confused look. He'd hexed Snivellus because he'd been calling someone a filthy Mudblood, but had never even bothered to wonder who it was. And then he'd ended the duel by giving him tentacles, which had taken up his attention entirely.
"Evans."
"No way— isn't she like, Snivellus' bestest friend ever?" James stared, Remus and Pete shook their heads. "I didn't see her at all when we were fighting."
"Oh, she was there," Pete chimed in, giving him an uncertain grin. Gods, it was as if they were getting used to smiling again at all.
"He called her a — a you-know-what."
James stopped in his tracks.
"You mean, it was her he was attacking?" Remus and Pete smiled a little more widely, and for a moment, the sorrow was gone from their eyes.
"Yeah, Prongs."
"You gallantly saved Evans at long last."
"And you didn't even notice!"
"Pull the other one." To say James was stunned would be sort of an understatement.
"I heard she argued with McG to not expel you, and she was hovering around Dumbledore's office all afternoon to tell him what really happened."
James' heart felt uncharacteristically warm and fuzzy. The truth of the matter, as he saw it, was that Snivellus had dragged Sirius' name through the muck one too many times, and he had been looking for him to pick a fight; that he had caught Snape bullying and insulting someone hadn't even registered until now.
"She's waiting for you in the Common Room."
Suddenly James worried about how much his breath smelled. He ruffled his hair nervously. Sucked in a few deep breaths to control his sudden nerves. It made the other two Marauders chuckle.
"Oh shurrup."
.
.
"Have you found anything?" Voldemort' voice carried across the room, frosty with impatience.
"We did, my lord." Lucius' tone was rather constipated, but he Dark Lord believed that it had more to do with the way his nose was brushing the carpet. Still, he already sensed failure from that end, so he didn't allow Lucius or any of his companions to stand. He liked them better when they grovelled, that aristocratic bunch who believed themselves his equals.
Inbred Idiots.
"And?" Voldemort prompted impatiently, when nothing was forthcoming from Lucius' end.
"My lord, we found the source of the Trace. We… we brought it back."
"You found his body, you mean?"
"No, lord. We found… this. Show him, Rodolphus."
Not daring to straighten up, Lestrange produced a vase from the sack he had been carrying. It had been obviously small for a body, but things such as size didn't matter in the magical world. Anything, anyone, could be shrunk to fit in one's pocket.
Sadly, the Dark Lord mused as he watched Lestrange struggle with the bag and try to remain in the grovelling position the Death Eaters had not yet been released from, this was a bog-standard sack. And what Rodolphus was holding aloft over his head, which was once again pressed against the carpet, looked like a bog-standard vase.
Voldemort flicked his fingers and the vase, still wet and smelling faintly of seaweed, sailed into his hands. Attached to it was the golden pin with the Black crest in white silver, which he himself had provided to Orion all those years ago, when Sirius had been pledged to him.
The Dark Lord looked the pin over in a silence that was only broken by the badly-muffled sniffling and coughs of the twelve Death Eaters still prostrate before him. He paid them no mind, deep in thought and memory for a few eternally long moments.
The Black heir had unknowingly been the prize item in his collection, beautiful, of purest blood and keen intellect, the lad encompassed everything Voldemort envied of the High Houses. Long ago he had decided to groom him as his right-hand man, his successor if he couldn't achieve immortality… And the boy's muggle-loving ways and instinctive allegiance to the Light had made it laughably easy to sway imposing, hard-headed Orion Black to give him his firstborn son. The wizard had been frustrated because the lad would not go muggle-baiting, of all things.
To be fair, six was too much of a tender age to start someone on such a sport, and Sirius had flat-out refused to hurt some girl or other.
By the time he was eight, Sirius had belonged to Voldemort in all but name, and had become a key figure in his plans to strike the worst-possible blow to the Light. He was friends with James Potter, the heir of Gryffindor, and it was James whom Voldemort wanted with all his heart.
So he had allowed Sirius to foster the friendship, had allowed him to spend extended periods of time at Alphard's and visit the Potters, had been delighted when the boy was Sorted into Gryffindor rather than the expected Slytherin. That evening Sirius had become officially his, to do with as he pleased.
Orion and Walburga had been devastated, and Voldemort had spent long hours assuring them that he would make them feel proud of their son in the end, back in the day where he still had to negotiate to get his way. He'd had a heavy, if unseen hand in the boy's education ever since.
It had been an entertaining pastime.
In the background someone coughed. Voldemort ignored them.
He had not anticipated that his little Lion would fight him every step of the way, whenever he could, and without even knowing that he belonged to Voldemort. Oh, he had applauded when Orion complained that the boy had managed to throw off the Imperius curse at age twelve. He had secretly rejoiced when his defiance drove his parents to distraction. He had revelled in the power that had been gifted to him, and daydreamed of the time when Sirius was turned.
He was not so happy, now.
Black now knew what he was wanted for. He knew, and he had withstood torture far better than most of those assembled before him ever could. He had also escaped, even after the Dark Lord gave him a taster of the power absorbing spell, which he was planning on using on both him and Potter if they refused to enter his service; he had survived impossible odds… and he was as yet unbroken, defying the Dark Lord with each escape.
He had seen their memories, after all. He had seen Sirius' expression as he lost hope of ever being safe from them, when they surprised him in that house; he had expected the boy to surrender once he reached that point, as everyone did... but he had witnessed as Black finally decided to openly fight back and challenge them all instead. He had seen, with no small measure of surprise, as his Death Eaters were bested in the most uneven duel of all, twice over in less than one hour.
After all that had happened, all he seemed to have accomplished whilst raising Sirius Black, was to create a terrible enemy for himself.
This, the Dark Lord had not anticipated at all.
He ought to have started grooming this Lion in his first year. Somehow, this realisation made him even more vexed.
"Fleamont Potter did this," he stated, unsticking the pin from the vase and turning it around so that it reflected the light. The vase floated back in front of Rodolphus. "There are only three wizards who could break my Tristram Trace; Potter, Dumbledore, and McAlpin. It is perhaps, safe to say that Black is at Godric's Hall or at Hogwarts, if he still lives. Which," the Dark Lord got to his feet, and the grovelling dozen before him raised their heads as one. Constipated faces and teary eyes watched him without making eye contact. "Brings us to the second order of business. I have looked at your memories. You tried to kill him. That was not the order, you well knew that then as you do now." Not that it made a difference; the boy had escaped and as yet there was no explanation as to how.
He surveyed the group shifting before him, thinking of a suitable punishment, even if he had not finished listing their offences yet.
"You were seen in Godric's Hollow. You failed to bring James Potter and Sirius Black to me. You were pushed back in battle by a bunch of Muggle-loving villagers. And you spent the past three weeks looking for a vase."
Someone sneezed, and the drapes behind him caught fire. Voldemort sighed inaudibly, putting the fire out with a flick of his wand, thinking of a suitable punishment for his failed — and now contagious — Death Eaters. Of course, they just had to get ill whilst scouring the North Sea for the boy. Now there was a magical flu epidemic to deal with.
Lucius sneezed, and behind him, Bellatrix was thrown into the air with a startled screech.
Voldemort sighed, audibly this time.
This would be a long day.
TBC, siriusly. R&R, it's only fair.
