Disclaimer and Summary: See previous chapters.
Chapter Ten
Summer Surprises
"I swear, if you mention Lily one more time, I will glue your mouth together with a permanent sticking charm," Sirius said, sitting up and glaring at James furiously.
Several weeks into the summer holidays, my three friends and I were lying on the grass under a large oak tree in James' back garden. The sun was too hot for it to be comfortable, and it had been with great relief that the four of us had collapsed in the shady spot that afternoon.
I had already been at James' house for two weeks. After arriving home for the summer, the atmosphere in my own house had become increasingly strained. The wizarding world was at war. Indeed, it had been for for about ten years, as Lord Voldermort slowly but surely gained strength and followers, but suddenly, in the last few months, there had been a dramatic progression in dark activity, and attacks on both wizards and muggles were getting more and more frequent. My father, as a result, was extremely busy with work at the ministry. I knew that his job was very important, but my mother, not fully understanding how serious everything had suddenly become, became tense and quite irritable. She felt that as I was home for the summer, my father should at least be there to see me and to spend time with me. The strains in their relationship, which had been almost non-existent since I had started at Hogwarts, resurfaced once more, and on the rare occasions that my father was home before she went to bed, they almost always had a row.
Just as I was beginning to dread the remaining five weeks of the holidays, cooped up with only my worried mother for company, I received a letter from James, inviting me to his house to stay for the rest of the summer.
"Sirius has left home, for good this time," he had written,"he's camping in our garden, Mum and Dad offered him a bed but he says he prefers it out there, so I've joined him in the tent. We decided it would be much more fun if we were all here. Can you come? Wormtail is arriving the day after tomorrow.
I had, slightly nervously, told my mother about my friend's invitation, a little worried that I should not leave her when my father was away so often, but desperately wanting to escape from the claustrophobic atmosphere that was now present in my home. To my relief she seemed happy to let me go, and two days after receiving James' letter, I packed everything I would need and bade her a long, cheerful farewell, promising to write, assuring her that I would stay out of trouble - although I avoided her gaze as I said this, because keeping out of trouble was something I didn't seem to be able to do any more - and set off for James house.
Two weeks had already gone by, much too quickly for my liking, and that afternoon James, who had been pondering aloud for about the hundredth time whether Lily may or may not be coming around to him at last, immediately fell silent at Sirius' words.
Lily and James had not had a great deal of contact since the night that James had saved Snape's life. In spite of her words to him the morning after, she had barely spoken to him since, flushing slightly if she came face to face with him in the corridors, avoiding catching his eye, and keeping out of his way as best she could. James had, unusually for him, not persisted, perhaps having finally realised that going slowly was the surest way of winning her round. When he had talked to her, her had been careful to call her "Lily", and not "Evans", something which she seemed to appreciate, even if she did not make a great deal of effort to engage in conversation.
I had a shrewd suspicion that she was now battling with herself, one part of her trying obstinately to remember the James who she had made a great show of disliking over the previous six years, the other part of her yearning to get to know the much nicer person who lay under James' confident exterior, who she had now seen a brief glimpse of, and in spite of herself, had liked. At the end of term, she had responded to James' enthusiastic shout of "Have a good summer Lily!" with a twitch of her hand and a smile of her own, something she had never done in previous years.
She was still keeping her distance, but, according to James at least, these small changes in her attitude towards him were a good sign. I was quite prepared to take his word for it, but he was not at all reluctant to go into details, very keen to express his views on the latest development in his relationship, and Sirius, who had never obsessed about a girl for longer than about five minutes, had very quickly become fed up with James' one track thought.
After Sirius's threat to jinx his mouth shut, James was much more cautious, knowing that he was quite capable of doing something of that nature. He seemed unable to avoid the subject completely, and Lily's name kept cropping up repeatedly in our conversations, but although Sirius responded each time with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he accepted James restraint and even consented to give him a few words of advice himself, which, considering his experience, were probably very helpful.
Peter and I remained mostly silent throughout these conversations, as neither of us had a lot of experience when it came to that department. I was not sure I fully understood girls, but when I'd dared confess this to Sirius and James, they had both laughed and said that no one did, something that did not make me overly optimistic about getting a girlfriend in my last year at school.
I felt I had quite enough to worry about anyway. Seventh year was our notoriously difficult NEWT year, and the year in which we would have to decide what we were going to do when we left school.
James, Sirius and Peter did not seem at all worried about this, but finding work after Hogwarts was, for me, very problematic. I had taken careers advice from Professor McGonagall, and while she had assured me that I had many valuable capabilities, she had also warned me that it wasn't going to be easy to find work, that as much as she disagreed with the prejudice, I was going to encounter problems, difficult questions, and flat refusals all the way. I was tactfully told what I'd started to realise at six years of age, that it didn't matter to everyone else that I detested being this monster. It didn't matter what results I could achieve in examinations, what sort of personality I had, or what I believed in. Being a werewolf was enough to put a black mark over my name without any further questioning.
My one shining hope had, once again, been Dumbledore. He had told me, in his usual calm, wise way that I was not to worry, that he had contacts at the Ministry and many other places besides, that he was sure that he would be able to help me find a position somewhere, and that, if all else failed, I could have a job at Hogwarts in a few years time. That last statement had been said with a twinkle in his blue eyes, and I had not really known whether to take him seriously, but I had been sure of one thing. Dumbledore was one person I would always be able to count on. That summer, I was still optimistic about what was to come.
But, as it turned out, that summer was probably the last happy and peaceful time the four of us ever knew. We were still young and careless and I don't think we realised just how terrible the war had become, or how many lives it would soon claim. We had known about dark wizards gaining power for so many years that it had become an accepted fact of life. We couldn't fail to notice the increase in horrific stories that, almost everyday, were front page news in the Daily Prophet, but reading about it, seeing it in black and white, when it could just be folded, hidden, or thrown in the fire, was very different from experiencing it first hand. Although we found the idea of war deeply disturbing, it was not enough to mar our happiness, nor our plans for a lazy and enjoyable summer spent at James' large country house.
oOo
A week before we were due to go back to school, the four of us were sitting in the Potter's kitchen eating breakfast, which was today, on James's request, pancakes. James was smothering his own helping with a covering of pumpkin syrup and sugar so thick that you could barely see the actual pancake at all, when an owl appeared on the window sill outside with a dignified hoot. Four letters were attached to its leg.
"Hogwarts letters!" James exclaimed, jumping up. "About time! I though Dumbledore must have decided that we weren't welcome back this year after all."
I opened mine, and read it briefly. There were three new books to purchase, and other than the fact that there was a short notice written at the bottom of the parchment, informing us that standard dragon hide gloves would no longer be sufficient protection in Herbology, something that, admittedly, gave me a slight sense of apprehension, the letter was much the same as it had been for the past six years.
My mind wandered idly back to my very first Hogwarts letter six years ago, remembering how bitterly disappointed I had been as my father refused to let me attend, and how Dumbledore had been so kind, so understanding. I felt a sudden rush of gratitude for the man, as I thought of everything I now, thanks to him, took so much for granted, but which, six years ago, had been nothing more than a hopeless dream.
A loud yelp from opposite me shook me out of my thoughts, and looking up, I saw that James was now holding his Hogwarts letter at arms length, as though afraid that it would explode, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping open.
"No way!" he exclaimed
Sirius, who had returned to his extremely large portion of pancakes after reading his own letter, looked up questioningly.
"Wha'?" he inquired, through a mouthful of food.
James did not reply. Mouthing wordlessly, he lunged across the table to grab the envelope that had contained his letter (which he had tossed carelessly aside just moments before) knocking the butter dish of the table and onto the floor with a crash.
"I don't believe it…no way!" he said again, ignoring the sound of breaking china and turning his envelope upside down, shaking it a little as he did so.
"What?" Sirius repeated impatiently.
James still did not reply and Sirius opened his mouth again irritably, but his question was answered as James shook the envelope, and a shining gold badge fell out of the envelope and onto the polished tabletop. Leaning forward to look at it, I saw that two words were writing on the front in silver letters.
All four of us stared at it for a second or two. Then I came to my senses. "You've been made head boy?" I said incredulously. Peter's eyes widened in amazement, and Sirius appeared utterly incapable of coherent speech, merely stuttering helplessly. When he had recovered a little, he reached out his hand, and grabbed the letter from James. "Let's see that, there's got to be a mistake," he snorted. "There's no way …no way… how can you-" he trailed off, shaking his head.
"It says, it's written there, there's no mistake," James said, sounding a little smug. He was grinning broadly, his face full of childish glee. I was reminded for a fleeting moment of a five-year-old in Honeydukes sweet shop.
His parents had suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway from the next room, no doubt wondering what all the commotion was about, and James jumped up from his seat excitedly, waving his letter in their faces. "I'm head boy!" he cried ecstatically.
Before that moment, I would have said that nothing could have made Mr and Mrs Potter more proud of James than they had already been. I would however, have been wrong. After several minutes of initial astonishment, during which their reactions were much the same as mine, Sirius's and Peter's had been, they were able to talk. With broad smiles on their faces, they congratulated him nothing short of twenty times, read his letter over and over again, and examined every square millimetre of the golden badge as if to learn it by heart, before rushing out of the kitchen to inform their friends, neighbours, and anyone else they could find that their son was soon to be head boy of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Once they had left the kitchen, Sirius who was still goggling at James, said, "how, in Merlin's name, are you head boy? I mean, no offence James, but you? When have you ever - ever, shown any signs of – of…" He searched in vain for the right word… "Headboyishness?"
"Perhaps Dumbledore's finally losing his senses," I suggested dryly, picking up James's letter which I had not yet had a chance to read. I skimmed the page, my eyes stopping only at the bit that interested me. Sure enough, at the bottom, was written in none other than Dumbledore's very own narrow, slanted writing.
Mr James Potter, it is with great pleasure that I inform you that you have been appointed with the position of Head Boy for this coming year at Hogwarts.
James, quite suddenly, looked awkward. "Remus...it, well, it should have been you really- I- I'm sorry."
I stared at him, surprised. "Me?" I said with a laugh, genuinely astonished at James' comment. It was true I had been the Gryffindor prefect for the previous two years, but to be honest I think more through default than anything else, due to the fact that I was, as my father had bluntly put it, the least offensive candidate out of a bad lot.
Dumbledore had no doubt thought it would be good for me to have a little responsibility, and had probably held out a vague hope that I would be able to exercise some control over James and Sirius, something that I had, without question, failed miserably at. I had honestly not even considered the possibility of being head boy, and at that moment, even in my astonishment that Dumbledore felt that James would be suitable, I felt a huge sense of relief that I was free from the weighty task of being the voice of authority in my little group.
I said all of this to James. "And anyway," I finished with a grin. "After last year Dumbledore probably thinks you're the perfect man for the job. I mean, you didn't get that many detentions, and you showed that you could be responsible and everything when you rescued Snape; he probably wants to give you a chance to show a bit more of all that. Probably hoping we'll see a whole new side of you."
I had actually meant for this to alarm James more than anything else, but he just stared at me, then at the badge in his hand, and then grinned even more widely. "Head boy," he murmured. "Wow, I don't believe it."
Sirius was looking at him without smiling. "Well, I don't know why you're so happy about it," he said gloomily. "Head boy, as Remus just said, means responsibility, which, in case you hadn't realised, means no more pranks, no more jokes, no more jinxing Slytherins just for the sake of it. It might even mean no more sneaking out every full moon. You have to be sensible, remember, and set an example for others."
I half expected James' face to fall, but it didn't. He looked a little dazed, his eyes had become slightly unfocused and he didn't seem to have heard what Sirius had just said. A very familiar expression appeared on his face, one I had seen many times before, particularly that summer.
And I suddenly realised exactly why James was so happy, and why he wasn't sharing Sirius's gloom, because I had half-expected him to be disappointed at being assigned a high ranking position of responsibility. I leaned towards Sirius, who was still regarding James with a mixture of disbelief, amusement, and disappointment. "Three guesses who's going to be head girl?" I murmured in his ear.
Sirius's forlorn look was immediately replaced with a wicked grin. "Oh, of course," he said, starting to laugh. "Why didn't I see that one straight away?"
It was fairly obvious who would be head girl that year. Lily, aside from being the cleverest witch in our class, had shown from our very first year that she was kind and sensible, as well as being a strong enough character to take on leadership. She had been a prefect for the previous two years, and, unlike me, had demonstrated that she was capable of exercising the perfect amount of control over both herself and others, thus making herself a near certain choice for head.
James had clearly realised this too. With one last gleeful shout, he bounded out of the kitchen, and up the stairs, leaving me, Peter and Sirius to stare at one another, still in slight shock at the unexpected turn of events. His plate of pancakes, which he had been so eagerly devouring not so long ago, was left unfinished on the kitchen table. Sirius raised his eyebrows, then, with a shrug, sat down and, having finished his own breakfast, pulled James's plate towards him. "I think it's going to be an interesting year," he mumbled, his mouth almost too full to speak.
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