A Different Perspective
"What's the matter mate?" Sirius asked. The three pranksters, Harry, Sirius, and Peter, were standing in an abandoned room on the fourth floor. This room was the third hideout they had discovered that week. "It's nearing Christmas time. Don't look so sullen, James."
Harry shrugged and said, "Well, if people weren't so selfish, maybe I'd feel the holiday spirit more."
"What happened?" Peter asked, curious about what had turned James's mood so sour. A hint of fear entered Peter's eyes, which went unnoticed by the other two friends because it was only momentary.
"It's Lily Evans," Harry replied with gritted teeth. He then sighed and shook his head.
Sirius frowned and asked, "What did she say this time you asked her out? Let me guess: did she finally get around to smacking you in the face? Because in that case, I would surely declare a war against t—"
"No, Sirius," Harry said, assuring him that no violence had been involved. "I didn't ask her anything. In fact, it was she who did the talking."
"Did she formally reject you?" Sirius asked, half-fearful, one-fourth disgusted, one-fourth amused. "She's done that too many times, that witch."
"We were patrolling," Harry recalled, "when she decided to tell me that she had stolen something from me."
"What?" Sirius exclaimed. "Lily Evans stole something . . . ? And from you, no less? Impossible!—it goes against her morals."
"I thought she had taken something of mine a while back. I reckoned she was too afraid to return it then, and I thought nothing of it," Harry said. "But she prolonged in giving it back to me. Still, I would have forgiven her, because all of us make mistakes, and I'm also pretty lenient at times. But, it turned out that she took something very important from me—something of great value and importance."
"W-was it that green book of yours?" Peter asked, joining the conversation.
"Oh, yeah," recalled Sirius. "Lily came to our train compartment and told me to give it back to you—on the train last summer, I remember now. I forgot to tell you about that. But, she didn't trust me with it, for some odd reason. What was that thing—that book?"
"She did that? She tried to return it?" Harry asked with a frown. "Well, anyway, that green book was my diary."
"Yeah, she came up to me and—wait, what? Did you just say it was . . . your diary?" Sirius asked with a shaky voice. He then turned to Peter and said, "I think I heard him wrong, but . . . did he just say diary?"
"It was my diary," Harry gritted out. "She violated my personal space, and she didn't even bother apologizing for doing it until now. Bloody brilliant, that woman. And she didn't even apologize properly, I don't think. She just gives me this green book and goes, 'Here's your diary; sorry I took it,' and leaves. Freakin' brilliant, that woman."
"You have a diary?" Sirius asked incredulously. Harry nodded, to which Sirius replied, "You're more feminine than I had originally thought. I mean, really: a diary?"
"Diaries aren't feminine," Harry interjected with a frown. "They're useful tools: they're ways of pouring out emotional pain, and they can be used to record personal observations. Lots of famous people keep diaries, mate. Ever hear of Merlin's diary, that book with all that brilliant spellwork?"
Sirius looked to Peter and said, "What the hell is our James boy saying, do you know Peter?"
"Well," Peter said, wringing his fingers, "they're . . . like James said, they help you deal with . . . stress. And . . . emotional troubles—what James said. And then, people record stuff in them, too."
Sirius frowned and looked to Harry, and asked, "Why would you need a diary, James? You're not a scientist all of a sudden, are you?"
Harry didn't know how to reply because he was partially unsure of his own answer. Why did James keep a diary? Harry suspected family trouble, but was that the true reason? Harry reckoned James Potter would scoff at the idea of keeping a diary too. So, then, why did James Potter keep a diary? It seemed quite out-of-character for James Potter to keep a diary. But then again, James Potter wasn't the same James Potter people thought he was, now was he. Harry nodded. James must have suffered from emotional pain and teenage trouble, some way or another. But Harry wasn't exactly sure.
Fortunately, it was Peter who answered for Harry and said, "Sirius, don't you remember?"
"Remember what?" Sirius asked with a frown. It took a few seconds, but Sirius eventually got it. Suddenly, Sirius Black gasped and said, "Oh . . . never mind James. Right, I remember now. Sorry for having asked, and sorry for being such an arse. I know you don't like discussing this topic."
Harry remained a tad bit confused, so he asked, "Why would I need a diary?"
"I hadn't realized," said Sirius, "that your mother died when you were little, and that your parents separated when you were five. You must have had a lot of family problems, so that's why you kept a diary, isn't it? And also because of Lily Evans. She rejected you so many times, and broke your heart every time. And then . . . well, you know, those times—those arguments with your Dad?"
"Oh," mumbled Harry. "I honestly didn't even remember. It's just that the Quidditch accident really messed up my memory, so I wasn't quick to recall . . . my past."
"You don't need to explain, mate," Sirius said with an assuring pat on the back. "I wouldn't want to remember my past if I were you either. It's alright. Forget the past, though. Forget Lily, forget your Dad, because we're here for you now, mate. We're here to help you build your future. It'll be a happy future, I assure you: one that will be full of sex, money, and fame."
Harry ingested the new information Sirius gave him, of James Potter's past, and was quick to recover from his glum mood. He cracked a solemn grin and said, "Thanks for the support, mate. You're a . . . true friend."
Harry blinked. A true friend. He looked at Sirius. A true friend?
"You must hate Evans," Sirius suddenly said, rolling his lip in thought. "I know I would if I were in your position. How dare she reject the great James Potter? I honestly haven't thought about it until now, but I realize that she really has been a witch, hasn't she? I mean, I just realized—she's got a hell of an attitude when it comes to dealing with you. You know, we should keep you away from her from now on, and we should . . . you need a girlfriend, mate. I mean, even Remus has one now. I mean, let's declare a prank war against Evans—give up on her and teach her a lesson for having messed with James Potter."
Harry smiled sadly and shrugged. He couldn't do that, he just couldn't. "I can't really keep a grudge against anyone, so no harsh feelings against her, Sirius," he said. "I guess that's my biggest weakness. But seriously, don't try anything. I just . . . I have too many enemies at hand already. I want to start making friends."
Friends. Harry sort of smiled. He liked the idea of real friends. He liked being around Sirius and Peter, people of his age, with whom he could talk to about whatever the hell he wanted. Friends. He liked the ring to it, friends. It had a nice ring to it. Friends.
"Hey, you alright?" Sirius asked, noting the sudden change in Harry's demeanor, from mad to sad to happy. "You're not having an emotional breakdown again, are you?"
"I guess I should forgive her for taking my diary," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "Lily didn't really mean it, I guess not. I was just getting too worked up before."
Harry's eyes drooped to the ground. He hadn't many friends, but it wasn't too late to start making new ones. Lily Evans didn't seem that bad a person, at least not to Harry. She was bitter and caustic, that may seem true, but that was only because James had acted arrogant and childish in public. Lily wasn't a bad person. Harry could tell. Harry could tell that she was a true Gryffindor, loyal to friends at heart. He could tell loyal from bogus; it was part of his sixth sense.
Sirius was loyal. Remus seemed loyal. Even Peter . . . he seemed loyal.
Maybe Dumbledore was right. Maybe this time around, he'd need friends to kill off Voldemort.
"So, why are we here again?" Sirius asked, trying to avoid the topic of Lily Evans. "I'd rather be in bed reading—" Harry raised his eyebrows. "—the latest issue of PlayWizard." Sirius definitely knew how to lighten the conversation.
With a calm smile on his face, Harry said, "We're here to officially start the Marauders." Harry had introduced the idea of setting a name for the trouble-making group, and they had all decided upon: the Marauders—it was a good name to represent the four Gryffindors as the devious troublemakers that they were. Harry had also offered the idea that they start inducting new members during the course of the year.
Harry laid out a plan for the Marauders. He said that they would use this name from now on, for this name would keep their pranks covert and draw about an aura of mystery whenever anyone spoke of them. When asked by Peter as to the motives of the Marauders, Harry replied that the pranks to be carried out were a way of bringing change to Hogwarts, and this was to be the good kind of change.
Harry wanted the pranks to benefit the Hogwarts population, whether they be an outlet for stress or a method to endorse Hogwarts' moral codes. Harry instructed that the pranks not be at the least lethal; he did not want any person injured, even if that person was Slytherin—to this, Sirius grumbled but grudgingly agreed. Harry laid out a few more rules for the Marauders to abide by.
Finally, Harry ended his speech and said, "But remember, the key to all this is us three becoming Animagi. Animagi will not only help us remain undercover, but they will also help up later on in our life. As Animagi, we will have a freedom many others will lack, that's for sure. We will also have a deeper connection with our magic and have better coordination with our body and instinct. During our years at Hogwarts as Marauders, we'll remain the unofficial leaders of the school. We will support equitable causes; we'll help fellow peers when they are in need; we'll mentor the younger students, those first-years always getting picked on; we'll bring down unworthy causes as bigotry and discrimination; and we'll bring entertainment for others every so often. When we feel that the Marauders are headed in the right direction, we'll start inducting new pranksters, the induction starting as early as March."
Sirius gave a wolf whistle and said, "Since when did you get so good at planning, eh James? Well, I guess Quidditch instincts did play into—but still, how in the ruddy hell did you learn so much about Ani—well, I suppose you probably read about Animagi over the summer." Harry simply nodded, reassuring Sirius of his erroneous assumptions. "But still James, you're . . . smarter than I thought. Good job, mate! If I could and if you were running, I would vote for you as Minister of Magic!"
"Speaking of Animagi, do you think the potions will work?" Peter asked timorously. "They didn't work before."
"Of course they'll work," Harry said. "If you want to succeed, you have to think optimistically, Pete. If you do that, eventually, you'll succeed. If you don't want to succeed, well, think like a pessimist, and you'll never succeed."
"Who told you that?" Sirius asked, genuinely suspicious of his friend's wisdom now.
"I told myself that," Harry said with a smile. He pocketed the green book, which he'd kept tightly in his right hand, into his knapsack. He produced a large vial containing green fluid and smaller ones from the same knapsack. "And besides, I altered the potions a bit. I'm pretty sure they'll work this time."
Harry began pouring the potions into three containers from the much larger container. The slimy green substance emitted a sizzling sound as it touched the bottom of each of the containers, and this disgusted the three boys present in the room. When the containers were half-full, Harry put a stopper on the big potion bottle and gave a vial to each of his fellow pranksters, putting the original container away.
"What did you do to these potions?" Sirius asked. "These potions didn't seem half as toxic before. Now, well, they look very lethal."
Harry grinned. "Well, I added tears of the tears of a phoenix to the potion and added a few other rare ingredients to make the potion more reactive and efficient in inducing the effects of our Animagus forms."
"W-where did you get the ingredients?" Peter queried.
"From Dumbledore's office, of course," Harry replied. "He was legitimately content in aiding in our intentions."
"You got Dumbledore involved?" Sirius asked with an unbelieving exaggerated grimace. "Are you mad, James? Now, all our pranks will be doomed."
"You know, Dumbledore always knew about our pranks," Harry said. "It was just that he didn't do much to stop us because he saw the pranks as a way of alleviating the stress from the Hogwarts population. He's always liked our pranks."
"So," Sirius said, "what you're saying is that Dumbledore is never going to let us prank again?"
"I never said that," Harry said. "As a matter of fact, Dumbledore is supportive of our pranks. He's supportive of what we're doing right this moment. He actually helped me to brew this altered potion. This new potion will not only help you see what your Animagus form is, but it will also help your body start making necessary adaptations so that your first transformation, which will hopefully be in January, will be fairly comfortable and not a bit painful."
"So," Sirius said, "what you're saying is that Dumbledore is never going to let us prank again?"
Harry rolled his eyes and asked, "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"
Sirius chuckled weakly and said, "Well, I would listen, if you didn't use such long sentences."
"T-to sum it up," Peter interrupted, a quiet frown on his face, "James is saying that D-dumbledore helped him prepare that potion, and that potion will help us become Animagi quicker."
"Thanks for the simplification, Peter," Sirius said. He was surprised that Peter had actually contributed to the conversation. "Sounds pretty risky if you ask me, don't you think so James? You've never been any good at Potions."
"I guess we gotta t-trust him, Sirius," Peter said with a meek stutter in his voice. He gulped and gave a hesitant smile at Harry, who in turn smiled back at Peter's newfound loyal trust.
Trust. Harry was starting to like this idea of "friends."
"Well," Harry said, "let's drink up, shall we gents?"
"This better not kill us, James," Sirius grumbled quietly. He eyed the acrid color of the potion inside of his vial. "Or worse: it better not make us all sexually infertile and unable. Ugh, if my wanker miraculously falls off or something, I swear James, I will make you pay."
Harry laughed and said, "Stop doubting me, Siri. Just trust me."
Sirius harrumphed and stomped his foot. Eventually, Sirius let a smile play onto his face and said, "Fine, James mate—cheers: to you and to all the pranks to come!"
At this, the three boys raised their potion vials into the air and spoke in unison, "Cheers." But just as the steel-rimmed glass containers touched their dry lips, Sirius interrupted the process.
"Wait," Sirius said, moving the potion a few centimeters away from his mouth. The other two looked at him with confusion. "I just remembered: what about our Marauder names? You said that we needed codenames of sorts. Shouldn't we think of our codenames now?"
"We'll decide on them later," Harry said with a smile. He neared the vial of Animagus potion to his mouth again. "You never know—we might get new ideas after we use this potion. It'll help us discover ourselves from a different perspective. And trust me, once you see yourselves in a different perspective, you'll have a very good idea for a Marauder name."
OoOoO
Harry's POV
I chugged down the potion without hesitation. I didn't want to doubt myself again. I could already feel my brain working its gears, trying its best to warn me not to drink the potion. It was telling me that what I was about to do—drink the potion—was a very dangerous thing to do. But we couldn't have that, now could we? I couldn't have my wits overpower my instinct—no, I just couldn't! I really had to rely on my instinct—my instinct was almost always right—and my instinct, at the moment, was telling me that this whole turning-into-Animagi thing was going to be bloody useful later on. And bloody cool, too. I mean, imagine turning into a dragon and flying and breathing fire and . . . let's get back to the story, yeah?
I'll admit it—I had never tried the Animagus potion before, and I didn't quite know what the results of drinking it would be. I was relying upon pure serendipity and knowledge for the time being. As for the potion's authenticity and quality and legitimacy, I was almost certain. Well, I was ninety-nine percent certain that the potion wouldn't kill us. Besides my confidence in myself, I trusted Dumbledore, and he'd told me earlier that the potion I brewed was good—in fact, he complimented me, saying that the potion was first-rate. So, I was pretty sure that the potion wouldn't harm me or my friends. As for the desired results, I was not so certain. I wasn't sure if the potion would give me real visions of my Animagus form, or if it would simply induce feelings of bland nothingness. Well, all this self-doubting diminished as soon as I let the cool potion run past my lips, over my tongue, and down my throat.
Instantly, I fell the world around me blur. I felt my knees wobble, and I must have fallen to the ground. I heard a shattering in the distant, and figured I'd dropped the vial. I felt very light-headed and began to zone out. My senses began to deteriorate, and soon, I began to lose control over my human self. Of course, this sent me into panicked hysterics—being unable to perceive the world through my senses made me feel so weak, so useless, so powerless. But, even though my connection to my human self lessened, I felt the bridge between my magic and my soul—I felt it slowly strengthen. I felt magic, magic I'd never felt before, surge into my body. I closed my eyes as an immense pain struck my spine. The voices around me—those of Sirius, those of Peter, and those of glass vials shattering against the hard stone floor—the voices began to dim. It was almost as if someone was turning the volume knob down, bit by bit. My ears began to tingle, and my hearing morphed from low ends to higher ends. There were whispers, hushed voices, and obnoxious shouts, all reverberating around me. I tried to open my eyes, but I could not, for the pain in my back was becoming almost unbearable. The control over my body parts—my fingers, my thumbs, my arms, my legs, my neck, my knees, my joints, over everything—it was numbed. I began to panic again. I tried to suppress the pain. I opened my mouth to scream, tell the magic to stop fucking with my body.
Then, just as painfully slow as all this happened, the next part—the transition phase—happened much too quickly for me to understand. Everything around me went eerily quiet. I felt a shivering breeze brush past my body, and my body shivered. I heard flapping of wings. Then, all of a sudden, my throat began to ache, as did my eyes. I breathed through my nose and noted a peculiar scent in the air—a scent so very sweet, it made me want to swoon and fall into a dreamless sleep for eternity. I tried to open my mouth and was surprised to learn that I could open it. I tried saying something, but all that came out were melodious trills. At once, I was on high alert. What had happened to my masculine, human voice? I perked my ears, and soon realized that I had regained my senses. I heard a rushing waterfall in the distance, the flapping of wings to my left, and the brave swaying of trees below. I jerked open my closed eyelids and was greeted by the beauty of nature. The sight in front of me left me in awe.
I was high in the cerulean sky, and I was looking down. Below me was a tropical rain forest, covered densely with trees of all shades of green. There were birds and creatures of all sorts too, here and there, on the tree branches, on the ground, in the air—but, there were birds mostly, roaming about in the air, I noted. I turned my head sideways and grasped my surroundings with quick ease. My eyes, it seemed, had become very keen and astute. I could see the detailed greenery for miles in every direction. I moved my arms and was delighted to note that I could control the flapping of my wings. I swooped down, headfirst at the flowing river below my flying form. I plunged into the river, shook my tail feather underwater, spun around underwater, and dove back up into the air, emitting a jocund chirp of my own. The experience was exhilarating. Just then, I looked down into the river and noted my own reflection. I cocked my head sideways and studied the majestic bird in the reflection. Was that really me? Could I really be that elegant bird, that one in the reflection? Could this beautiful bird, the one that stared back at me, the bird that was so vibrant and iridescent—could this bird really be me? Could the bird be that once haggard Harry Potter? I closed my eyes and opened them again. Surely, there had to be a mistake. Surely, I must have mistaken my own form for another magnificent creature. I studied the reflection in the water again. Boy was I delighted.
A dark red bird, one with brilliant green eyes, a purple crown, and proud black tail feathers, stared back at me. I couldn't believe it. I really couldn't. I chirped out loud in shock and took off into the free sky above. I, Harry Potter, that freak with the stupid lightning scar, was a bird Animagus. Bloody hell. Could you believe that? Well, I sort of had already guessed that I wouldn't have a normal Animagus, but still!
And I wasn't just any bird Animagus. My Animagus form was a phoenix! Well, that does explain how I was able to "fire apparate" out of the chamber of Secrets when I saved Isis's life last year. But, just still—wow!
I, Harry Potter, was a beautiful bird Animagus. Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody hell. I had half expected myself to be an ant . . . or a cockroach . . . or something of that sort. I mean, ants and cockroaches are strong, but they're scourges, always hated on by society. They're constantly stepped on, just like me, don't you think? I mean, phoenixes are magnificent creatures. I didn't . . . deserve such a worthy title. Wow, I was surely amazed. Bloody hell.
This day was going great. I mean, it started off a bit bad, with Lily telling me she'd stolen my diary, but it'd gotten so much better since. I realized how good friends both Sirius and Peter were, and then I realized how loyal true friends could be. And then, I realized that Lily had sincerely been sorry, and that I'd just overreacted. And then, I learned that that my Animagus form was a phoenix!
Everything was going great, really. Just great.
And then, all of a sudden, just when things were going great . . . something happened.
OoOoO
Sirius's POV
James Potter was out of his bloody mind. What in the bloody hell was he thinking? Do you realize how painful the potion was? I must have screamed for hours before the pain died down. But, I guess, I do have to compliment him for making the potion, because it actually worked. But, it was bloody painful.
I woke up, numbed from the pain, on rich, dry grass. I opened my eyes and was shocked to see that my eye sight had been limited. Where was my perfect vision? I almost panicked. I got up and was surprised to note how short I had become. When I tried to stretch my hands, I crashed to the ground. It was then that I noted my arms were supporting my body weight. I looked down and yelped: I was on all fours. And not only that, but I had paws! I opened my mouth and let out something that sounded like I bark. I grinned to myself: I could bark. Bloody hell, I began to move on my paws and realized how quick I was on my feet—er, my paws. I saw the Hogwarts Lake to my left and looked at my reflection. I cracked a grin, a very feral and Sirius grin.
Boo yeah! Who was a wolf for an Animagus? I was! Whose Animagus form was a bad-ass wolf? Mine! It was Sirius Black's Animagus form that was a black grim, bloody yes!
But wait, I said to myself. My grin faltered, only a bit, from confusion. I frowned. Wait, I wasn't a wolf. No, no, no. I was . . . I smirked even more wickedly this time. I wasn't a wolf, no sire. I was a black dog. Oh Merlin, this was great. It really was. Do you realize what this meant? I was the Black Dog, the one from the fucking legends. I let out a long howl. I was the black grim! I let on another grin. Imagine all the pranks I could pull off with this Animagus form!
Then I frowned. James had called me Padfoot. Did he know what my Animagus form would be? Padfoot was quite fitting for my form. Did he know I would so closely resemble the haunted black dog from the legends? Damn that James Potter, he knew something, or he was hiding something, wasn't he? I was determined to find out.
All of a sudden, my surrounding swirled into a black and white, and I was back in the abandoned room on the fourth floor.
At once, I knew something was wrong.
There was broken glass all over the floor, but that was probably from before. That wasn't what I was worried about. It was James! Peter was kneeling next to James, and James seemed to be having a fit.
I rushed to kneel next to him. I turned to Peter, who looked a bit worried and scared, and asked, "What happened?"
Peter turned to me and shivered. He bit his lip and said, "J-james . . . he's been trembling and . . . he was shouting and . . . I'm scared Sirius. I-I don't know. What if something happened to . . . ?"
My thoughts began to settle to the bottom of my mind. Time around me slowed down. The room around me seemed to enlarge before my very eyes. James was in trouble. "But he shouldn't be," I blurted out, trying to reassure myself. "It worked for us, didn't it? The potion worked fine, right Pete? So, James shouldn't be in trouble." I hoped not.
Peter shivered. "I don't know, he—"
James began to thrash back and forth. I held him by both of his hands and helped him stay put on the ground. "James," I whispered, scared for his life. "Please, James, wake up mate."
James began to shout loudly, and he shook ever so violently. "No you won't, Voldemort! You hear me, you bastard? Don't you dare get near her, you hear? You're nothing. . . ."
"James!" I shouted as I shook the unconscious boy. What the hell was going on? Who was Voldemort? "James, wake up. It's only a dream!" Still, James wouldn't wake, and he kept shouting. Suddenly, I felt a surge of magic emanate from James's body, and it echoed off of the walls in the room. That was when I knew that something was terribly wrong.
"Sh-should I go get Dumbledore?" Peter asked.
I bobbed my head, keeping my hands over James's arms, and said, "Yeah, Pete, hurry up and get him."
James began to tremble and the violent thrashing subsided. "You won't succeed, Voldemort, not this time." His teeth began to chatter.
I licked my lips.
What was going on?
I felt myself shiver.
Why did James always have to suffer? I recalled all the moments in James's life, all the sad moments. I remembered his mother's funeral. He hadn't cried in public. He'd been brave. I remembered the day he'd tried to commit suicide. He hadn't cried. He never cried, at least not in front of others. All the times he'd gotten rejected by Evans. He hadn't cried then either, even though his heart was aching.
James once told me that he didn't want others to suffer and feel anguish because of his own sufferings. I shook my head. Fucking noble bastard, that was James. But he was always in pain. I could feel it, whenever he'd crack a joke, or whenever he'd laugh. You could tell, just by looking into his eyes, because his eyes were eternally a sad blue.
But . . . why? Why did it have to be James? Why did Fate have to be so cruel towards my best friend? I used to think I had it bad, with my stupid mother and all, but then, I met James. His life seemed at least ten times as worse as mine.
Suddenly, I had an epiphany of some sort. I lost some of my childishness. I put on the socks of adulthood. Suddenly, the teenage Sirius Black was no more. At that very moment, seeing the helpless body of my best mate trembling below me, I felt the reality of life strike my back.
This was reality. It was time to grow up, a voice inside of my head echoed. The urgency of the situation—the seriousness of it all—it struck me hard. I looked down at James. I hoped he was okay. I could only hope. I felt worthless, for I had no medical skills, neither Muggle nor Magical. Only if I'd paid more attention in class . . . maybe then, I would know what to do in this type of situation. I felt powerless. I wanted to blame someone for this, anyone but myself.
Just then, the door behind me creaked open. I was almost relieved, almost. "Professor Dumbledore, you have to—wait, you're not Dumbledore."
Lily Evans frowned and said, "Of course I'm not some barmy old professor, Black. Where's James? I thought I heard—" Then her gaze fell onto poor James's unconscious form. "What in the—Merlin!" She rushed to kneel next to me. She examined the broken pieces of glass around her and asked, "What happened? What is that stench?" She looked at James and asked, "Is he alright?"
I frowned. Did she just ask what had happened? Did she want to know if he was alright? What the hell was she worrying about all of a sudden? I would think that she could care less if James died, to quote her verbatim.
All of a sudden, I don't know why, but I felt extremely protective of James. Something inside of me just erupted; the raw emotion inside of me erupted, much like does ash and debris out from a silent volcano. I couldn't bear to see my best friend come close to dying again, or have to suffer from so much pain. I glared at her. I needed someone to blame, and she seemed like the best option at the time. It was her fault, I thought to myself. James was always in pain, and she was part of the reason why James was always in pain. Fucking Evans! I felt enraged, for the sake of my friend. And she had the audacity to ask what was going on—to ask what was wrong? James was broken from the inside, my poor mate. Of course he wasn't "alright."
"What the hell do you want, eh Evans?" I asked. "Come to gloat at my friend, have you? Ridicule him for keeping a diary?" I was beyond mad, now, and that was scary. I never got mad, ever, and whenever I did, it wasn't a pretty sight. From the inside, I was crying helplessly, because of my friend; from the outside, I was furious, because of my friend.
Evans frowned and looked at me. Surprisingly, I didn't scare her one bit. "No, I was just looking for James . . . for our Prefect patrol. He was late, and I asked Peter where . . . and, well, he was in a rush and he told me that he was here, so I came here. And then I heard shouting and assumed that you boys were up to something and I thought—"
"Well, you thought wrong!" I growled. I was hysterical at that point; I couldn't bear to think of James anymore. It was too painful. I don't know, but I just couldn't think straight. My mind was in shambles, my logic was in ruins. "Can't you see that he's in no condition to carry out his fucking patrol duties? There's much more important stuff in the real world than following rules. Get the hell out! I know you don't care for my friend, so just get out! You're here to get us in trouble, aren't you? You're here to cause James more pain, aren't you? Break his heart again? Kill him, once and for all, why don't you?"
Lily Evans glared right back at me. "It might be shocking, but I do care. I care for James just as much as you do, Black." Then she turned to James, and her gaze softened. "And I never meant any of those things in the past. The past . . . is the past. It was all a mistake, a big misunderstanding on our parts."
"Don't try to act smart, Evans," I growled. "You can't heal broken hearts, can you?"
Lily ignored my comment and pretended not to look hurt by what I'd said. But what I'd said was only the truth. She really had hurt James, in ways unimaginable. "What happened to him? Have you . . . is he . . . have you sent for help yet?"
I nodded, albeit still a bit harshly. I didn't believe her. Why the hell did she care for James now? The gears inside my head began to roll. Was it because she realized James no longer had a crush on her, and that James was going for that Lancaster chick now? I gritted my teeth. There was no way, not on my watch, that Evans would disturb the blossoming relation between Lancaster and James. I'm telling you: I couldn't think straight. My head was all fuzzy, and the world around me wasn't making any sense, and I felt horrible. All the rage inside of me was slowly melting—melting into sorrow.
"Yeah," I said, a bit softly. "Peter's gone to get Dumbledore."
I frowned again. Where the fuck was Dumbledore when you needed him most? I felt my insides scrunch up. I was feeling terrible, just awful. I felt sick to the stomach. What was going on? My friend . . . James was in trouble. And here I was, unable to do anything.
Lily bent over and tucked a few strands of James's hair behind his ear. I gritted my teeth, but I suppressed the urge to strangle Evans. How dare she . . . touch James so intimately! Was she playing games now?
"Don't you dare touch him," I said, in a threatening voice. My voice began to tremble by the end of the sentence.
Lily ignored my threats and put the back of her hand on James's forehead, quite affectionately, may I add, and said, "He's really hot."
"This isn't time for flatteries, Evans," I said, my eyes narrowed, my head trembling, either from rage or worry. Had she just noticed, just now, that my best friend was handsome? Well, it took her long enough. "He's in danger, and you decide that this is the time to compliment him—to tell us that he's hot?"
Lily had the decency to blush, but she glared at me. "I meant that he's come down with a fever or something. He should really get medical attention."
"James has a fever?" I asked as my legs began to tremble and a shock ran up my spine. Well, this was turning out to be quite severe—quite the disaster. "Well, what should we do?" I asked, letting my sudden grudge against Evans slide. "Do you have any potions at hand?"
Hey, maybe she can help him, I thought to myself. Yeah, maybe Lily knew what to do. Maybe she could save James.
"You boys really are clueless," she mumbled. She took out her wand and produced a cool wet cloth. Then, like a mother does to her sick child, she began to rub the cool cloth over James's forehead, in a back and forth motion. "What is taking Dumbledore so long? Where's Peter?"
I frowned. Did Evans actually care for James, all of a sudden? What the bloody hell was going on? Nothing, absolutely nothing, was making sense. Nothing! Who the hell was Voldemort? Why the hell was my best mate having a fit? Why the hell was Evans caring for James now? Why the hell were tears rolling down my cheeks? What the fuck was going on!
"Why do you care?" I blurted out. I quickly wiped the tears from my face. "Honestly, why do you care? Why are you doing this? Why haven't you left yet? Why is Fate so stupid?"
Lily continued to move the wet cloth over James's forehead. "I don't know, really," she whispered. "I just feel that . . . I should be nicer to him."
I didn't know how to reply. All of a sudden, the dam broke. I couldn't control myself. The tears began rolling down my cheeks, and I began to shiver. I began to sob.
Lily noticed that I'd gone hysterical and asked, "What's wrong Sirius?"
"This is the second time," I whispered, "that I've seen James come close to . . . death."
I saw Lily look at me with a sympathetic look. "I'm sure he's alright."
"You don't understand," I said, my head in my hands, "how much he's gone through, and how I've had to watch him suffer."
I could tell, Lily was scared now, seeing me in sobs. "I-I'm sure he's alright."
Right then, James began to squirm around. Lily turned her attention towards him, as did I. I was prepared to hold James down in case he began to thrash violently.
"We should really go get Madame Pomfrey," Lily said. "Or bring him to the Infirmary. This isn't normal."
To my relief, the doors behind burst open and Dumbledore, followed by a couple others, entered the room in a rush. "Step aside, Sirius," the headmaster said. I quickly complied. Lily, too, quickly stepped back.
"C'mon, my boy, wake up," he whispered desperately. I watched as Dumbledore produced his legendary wand and waved it over James. "It's alright, Harry, wake up. It's not real."
James began to thrash ever-so-violently. His head began to twitch, and he began to bellow in pain. Lily and I backed away, both of us shocked and afraid. I saw Peter step next to me, and he too seemed sullen. Peter nudged my arm and said, "I'm sorry I couldn't get Dumbledore sooner."
I simply watched the wicked scene before me. "James, mate," I whispered, "please come back."
Someone, I don't exactly recall who and not exactly how or when, pushed between Peter and I, and rushed to kneel next to James. I frowned and realized it was the little girl, Isis was it? What was she doing here?
Isis, with much authority, set her hand on James's chest and did something, I don't know what. I couldn't tell; Dumbledore was blocking the view. But then, I heard her whisper something. She whispered: "Daddy Harry, wake up. You're safe."
What happened next was surreal, but I swear on my magic it was real. A golden string of light left Isis's hand and it enveloped James's body.
And then, as if it were a miracle, James opened his eyes.
OoOoO
Harry's POV
All of a sudden, I wasn't a bird flying up in the air anymore. I wasn't a phoenix anymore. Suddenly, I was a soul without a body again, and I was somewhere else—someplace very dark.
I looked around me and noted that it was dark, very dark. There was black, everywhere I looked. Then, I heard voices. Voices that sent shivers down my spine. Again, like I had been a few months before, when I crash-landed into this universe, I was detached from a human body. I was bodiless, yes, but not soul-less. I tried to go nearer to the voices and succeeded in swimming through the abyss. The closer I got, the more frightening it got. Suddenly, I was in a room.
And Voldemort was looking right at me.
I shouted and tried to produce my wand, but could not.
I realized, then, that he wasn't looking at me; rather, he was looking right through me.
"Vladimir," he croaked out, "what news do you have?"
I looked behind me and noted that a skinny man stood upright. The man had long brown hair and striking green eyes. I almost gasped: his eyes bore a shocking resemblance to mine. Who was he?
"You always ask the same question, Tom," he replied lazily. "Haven't you got anything else to say? Why can't we discuss Quidditch or something. Ask me why I dig French women, eh Tom? Honestly, being a dark lord is so . . . dreary and boring. How can you cope, Tom mate?"
The dark lord snarled. "I asked you a question, Vladimir!"
The man sighed and dutifully replied, "The prophecy has begun to unravel itself. The guardian and Chosen One are both at Hogwarts."
"Who is the Chosen One?" asked the dark lord. "Who can possibly match my infinite power?"
Vladimir chuckled. "Well, I can match you, Tom. You know that, don't you?"
The dark lord snarled. "You are my ally by magic, Vladimir. You wouldn't dare go against me, or you would lose your magic and all your abilities."
"Well," said Vladimir, "being a Time Mage does have its advantages. Time and magic are not exactly intertwined. I can do so much, with time, without using magic. I can see into the fourth dimension and even—"
"That matters not," said Voldemort, interrupting his ally. "Tell me of the Chosen One and his guardian angel."
Vladimir sighed. "I cannot say much about the Chosen One, for the Unspeakables's terms in the Department of Mysteries are quite strict, so they hardly speak of him. They haven't much information about him anyway. But, I do know of her—his guardian angel."
"Well," Voldemort said, impatiently, "who is she? Is she a Time Mage, much like you are? Is she an apprentice of Dumbledore? Is she a descendent of Merlin?"
"Nothing that fancy," Vladimir chuckled. "No, she is a mere child of seven years."
"The guardian angel is a child?" Voldemort bellowed, and then began to cackle. "The prophecy is surely mistaken. How can a mere child protect the Chosen from his demise by my hands?"
I frowned. Were they talking about the prophecy? I was the Chosen One, wasn't I? But who was she—the guardian angel? I had my suspicions, but it couldn't be her, could it? Could it be . . .
"Yes," said the man, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "it is a mere child who will defeat you."
Voldemort narrowed his red eyes. "You know their names and their identities, do you not?"
Vladimir shrugged unfazed and said, "Nothing much, only bits and pieces."
"Well, speak," ordered Voldemort. He aimed his wand at the lanky Vladimir. "Tell me, or prepare to suffer."
"I will only help you as much as I can, Tom," replied the man. "That was the deal."
"Don't you seek revenge, Vladimir?"
"Yes," Vladimir gritted his teeth, his stature becoming somewhat serious for the first time. "I shall avenge my children when comes the right time."
"Then, you must join me, Vladimir, pour your heart into it."
Vladimir spat on the ground. "I shall never steep as low as you, Tom. Never will I murder innocents in cold blood, nor hurt children for a wicked cause."
"You are a fool, Vladimir!" Voldemort cried out.
Vladimir chuckled. "You are a fool, too, Tom. Immortality is impossible. The strings of time will get to you, eventually. The gears of the eternal clock cannot be restrained for too long. Even me, Tom, a Time Magus; even I cannot achieve immortality."
"Come now, Vladimir," said Voldemort, "you must forget those silly thoughts. Together, we can forge an impeccable empire, one that shall never fall, a perfect empire, run by the two of us."
"I only wish to exact revenge, Tom," said Vladimir. "I don't grudge against the entire Light. I only grudge against the Leader of the Light, for his actions."
"If you kill Dumbledore, you will be asking for war!" Voldemort said. "It is better to wage war and kill Dumbledore in the war."
Killing Dumbledore? I wondered to myself. What did Dumbledore have to do with all this?
"You are a lunatic, my friend. How can you possible win, with your wicked behavior?" Vladimir shook his head. "The Chosen One can win—he will win Tom, you do realize this?"
I frowned. I could win? I would win? How did this man know, and why was he siding with me?
"You will aid me, Vladimir," Voldemort said. "You shall aid in the killing of the Chosen."
Vladimir sighed. "As long as I get my revenge, I shall comply. After all, we are allies. I will see . . ."
Voldemort smiled. "Now, tell me of this—guardian angel of his."
I scrutinized my gaze on the Vladimir person. Did he know about my guardian angel? Was she really the guardian angel?
"I believe her name to be Nicole Ellington," said Vladimir. "She was to die a few months ago, but, with the arrival of the Chosen One, Time was bent at the wills of Fate and Destiny, and she survived. She is currently under his ward, and is under the official name of Isis Potter."
I gasped, or at least tried to (you see, I didn't posses any body parts at the moment). Isis was my guardian angel? I had suspected that, but now . . .
"Interesting," Voldemort mumbled. "Is the Chosen One, then, Charles Potter?"
"I cannot say," Vladimir said, "for I do not know too many specifics. However, I can say, for sure, that the Guardian Angel is Isis Potter."
I can say, for sure, that the Guardian Angel is Isis Potter. These words seemed to ring inside of my head, like lugubrious bells tinkling ever-so-mockingly. Isis was involved in the war, wasn't she? She was part of the stupid prophecy? Poor Isis. Poor, poor Isis. Poor me.
"Excellent," Voldemort bellowed, raising his wand into the air. "We shall rid this world of Isis Potter at once."
"No!" I shouted at once. "You will not hurt Isis, you hear me Voldemort?" I tried to punch that bastard, tried to land a sucker punch. But, you see, I hadn't any arms, or any body parts at all. And apparently, Voldemort couldn't hear me.
Vladimir frowned. "Well, that may be a difficult task."
"Why is that?" Voldemort asked. "She is a mere child. I will kill her. I will torture her until I hear her scream my name!"
"No you won't!" I bellowed, my voice echoing from left to right. My echoes, however, simply melted into the sea of voices around me. "You won't win this time, not this time you won't. You hear, you bastard? This time, I'll rip you to pieces. This time, you won't get close to any of my friends, any of my loved ones. Not close at all, you hear? You stay away from her!"
But of course, the Dark Lord couldn't hear me.
Vladimir sighed. "Isis Potter is currently at Hogwarts, Tom. That place is as safe as Gringott's, if not safer."
"No matter," said Voldemort. "We shall attack Hogwarts."
"Tom, you amaze me," Vladimir drawled. "Do you honestly expect to break the ancient wards of Hogwarts, get past the Hogwarts staff, defeat Dumbledore, kill the targets, and get out unscathed? You need an army, Tom. As a leader, you aren't supposed to go into battle unless absolutely needed."
"You shall aid me," Voldemort said. "Together we—"
"Will fail," Vladimir said. "What makes you think I will aid you in attacking innocent children at Hogwarts anyway?"
"Fine," Voldemort shouted impatiently. "Start recruiting Hogwarts children. And, what of the Dementors, and of the Creatures?"
"I have already started," Vladimir said, with a tired look almost. "And these Hogwarts students are no longer children, but wicked creatures much like you are. I shall . . . get to recruiting the Creatures."
Voldemort smiled. "Together, Purebloods shall unite and rule this world."
"Good luck," Vladimir snorted, "DarkLord Tom Marvolo Half-Blood Riddle."
"Crucio!" Voldemort aimed the curse at Vladimir. The curse sailed towards the man, but the lanky ally dissipated just as the deadly curse came into contact with his body. The Time Mage reappeared a few centimeters behind Voldemort.
"You are a silly, silly Dark Lord, Tom. You never learn. You repeat your mistakes, only in different ways."
Just then, my head began to ache with extreme pain, and my vision was blinded. I felt pain and anger, and the place where my scar would be—that part of my head began to throb. I cried out loud and began to thrash back and forth. My scar was gone; the hocrux inside my soul should have been gone. So then, why was my scar hurting? Did I still have a scar, and was it just invisible? Or was this pain for a different reason?
Then, the pain died down. I opened my eyes, just a crack, and noted a lone figure standing in front of me.
It was James Potter.
He had a smile on his face.
"Come, Harry, let's get out of here."
"Who are you?" I wondered out loud.
James continued to smile. "Come, Harry, your friends are waiting for you."
My mind blurred. "Who are you? Is this real? Am I dead?"
"You can't be dead. Isis is waiting for you, Harry," James said. "You mustn't delay any longer. They're waiting for you."
"Daddy Harry!" A voice reverberated from above. I looked up and saw clouds the color of the deep blue sea. Behind James, there were stairs. No doubt, they lead up into the clouds.
James held out his hand. "Come, I'll help you get out. I promise."
And before I knew it, I was staring into the brilliant blue eyes of Isis Potter.
"You're awake!" Isis screamed. She hugged me tightly.
"Yeah, pumpkin," I whispered as I closed my eyes. I felt my soul settle back into the body of James Potter. I regained power over my body. Only, this time, I felt an odd entity of magic located at the back of my magical core. "I'm alright."
"Don't you dare leave us again, okay Harry?" Isis asked, a cute frown playing onto her face.
"I promise," I said, with a smile. I slowly sat up and noted the crowd of people behind Isis. There was Dumbledore to my left; Sirius, Peter, and Lily were to my far right; Jessica and the Romanov twins were in the doorway. "Why is everyone here?"
Because they care for you, a voice inside of my head whispered.
And it was true.
These people actually cared for me.
I suppose they even . . . loved me?
I smiled.
Friendship at last.
I had finally discovered it.
OoOoO
Peter's POV
I drank the potion, knowing that it would probably be painful. But I manned up, because I knew that I was a true Gryffindor. I would be loyal, to both my friends and to the Marauders. I withstood the pain, even though it was quite unbearable. After a while, I woke up on the soft, hot land. I opened my eyes, and everything seemed so large. Maybe I'd shrunk, or maybe the world had gotten larger. Well, I tried to move, but tripped over something.
I looked down and saw a dead snake. I cried out loud and leapt back. I noted that my hands—or rather, my claws—were bloodied. My mouth, too, reeked of blood. I had brown fur and was fairly small and stout, which seemed fitting to my personality. But this violence, it was unnatural—had I been eating that dead snake?
I saw a few other creatures come up to me. They were my kin: I could sense it. They, too, had brown fur and resembled a weasel. I was ready to attack or run away, but then I realized that they'd come to feast on the dead snake. I watched, with curious eyes, as the brown-furred creatures ripped the snake into bits, and chewed and gobbled it down.
I shivered. What were these things? They weren't weasels, and they weren't rats. Was I an animal, just like them? I must have fainted, because next thing I knew, I was back inside the abandoned room. I realized that Sirius and James were still under the influences of the Animagus potion. I began to ponder on my Animagus form. What was I?
Suddenly, James began to thrash violently on the floor.
I quickly rushed over and checked to see if he was alright. I frowned, very afraid. What was going on? Why was James thrashing about? I looked at Sirius. Sirius wasn't having a fit. I don't think I had a fit either, when I was under the influences of the potion.
"No you won't!" James shouted.
I backed away. James was talking in his sleep or something. Just then, Sirius woke up. He rushed to kneel next to me. He turned to me and asked, "What happened?"
I shivered, not knowing how to reply. "J-james . . . he's been trembling and . . . he was shouting and . . . I'm scared Sirius. I-I don't know. What if something happened to . . . ?"
I really didn't know what to do. James had almost died in the Quidditch accident. I didn't want him . . . he was one of my only friends. I might have been selfish these past few years, but I've realized one thing: James always stood up for me and beside me. So, I would start doing the same. And if he and Sirius and Remus became the heroes and I didn't become a hero, I would make sure to be their sidekick.
"But he shouldn't be," said Sirius, suddenly. "It worked for us, didn't it? The potion worked fine, right Pete? So, James shouldn't be in trouble."
"I don't know, he—"
James began to thrash back and forth again. Sirius held him down, and whispered, "James. Please, James, wake up mate."
"No you won't, Voldemort! You hear me, you bastard?" James shouted. "Don't you dare get near her, you hear? You're nothing. . . ."
"James," Sirius repeated, shaking James by the shoulders. "James, wake up. It's only a dream!"
Suddenly, a pulse of powerful magic resounded from James's body. What the heck was going on?
"Sh-should I go get Dumbledore?" I asked.
"Yeah, Pete," Sirius said, "hurry up and get him."
I scrambled to my feet and exited the room. I licked my lips. I hoped everything was alright.
Just as I rounded the corridor, I bumped into Lily Evans.
"Where are you going in such a rush, Peter?" She asked me, after recovering from the fall. "Have you seen James?"
"F-fourth floor room, west side, last one, one with rubbish metal door," I said, "Sorry, gotta go. Im-im-important b-business."
I must have confused her, but she understood my directions. I had to get to Dumbledore, and I couldn't really stay to explain everything to her.
I ran down the moving staircase and onto the floor. I sprinted as fast as my feet could take me down the long hallway and eventually skidded to a halt right in front of Dumbledore's office. I realized, just then, that I didn't know the password. Well, it took a while, but I eventually gave up and realized how stupid I had been, not asking anyone for the password before coming here. I realized, just then, that I could have asked Lily for the password because she was a pre-prefect, and pre-prefects knew the password. I was stumped and sullen.
I started to rush back all the way to Sirius and tell him of the predicament when I bumped into this really pretty girl halfway down the hall. I don't know who she was, but she had been with James the other day. She's in Ravenclaw or something. She was flanked by those Romanov kids and the Isis girl, and they all seemed to be going to Dumbledore's office. After all, that was the only place this hallway led to.
"What are you doing here, may I ask?" she asked. She had pretty yellow hair and pretty brown eyes. I remembered her being one of the pre-prefects. The Isis girl looked worried, and this worried me too.
"Jessie, we have to hurry," Isis tugged at the pretty girl's arm.
"I-I was looking for the headmaster. H-he's in trouble a-and Sirius said to get the headmaster." I said, with minimal stutter. "I-I need to see the headmaster right now."
She frowned and led me back to the office. She mumbled something and the door opened. She led the way up the spiral staircase, walking quickly, and asked me, "Who's in trouble? Is it—"
"James is in t-trouble," I said. I rushed up the stairs, right behind her, and skidded to a stop when I saw the headmaster reclining in his chair, behind his desk, reviewing a book of some sort.
"Wait, are you certain James Potter is in trouble?" asked the girl in an urgent tone.
Wait, how did she know James was in trouble?
I nodded and turned to the headmaster and blurted out, "S-sir, it's urgent. You've g-got to come!"
The headmaster, noting my serious tone, closed his book, got up, and asked, "What's wrong, Mister Pettigrew?"
"J-james is in t-trouble, s-sir!" I said, really fast. When I speak fast, or when I'm really worried or scared, I stutter a lot more than usual. "Y-you've g-got to c-come and see."
"Lead the way," said the headmaster, his wand at ready. And so, I led the headmaster to the secret Marauder hideout. The whole time, I explained what had happened, and how I'd woken up after using the potion, and how I'd seen James thrashing on the floor. And then, I added the little details—the surge of magic and James's shouts. The Ravenclaw prefect, the Romanov twins, and the Isis girl followed us for some odd reason, but neither the headmaster nor I questioned their following us.
When I entered the room, Lily and Sirius were having a row of some sort. Then, the headmaster stepped forward and told them to step aside. I watched as the headmaster tried some spellwork.
"C'mon, my boy, wake up," I heard the headmaster whisper. "It's alright, Harry, wake up. It's not real."
James began to thrash again. I heard Lily, Isis, and that pretty Ravenclaw girl gasp. James's head began to twitch, and he began to bellow in pain. I felt really bad. I moved next to Sirius and nudged him, and said, "I'm sorry I couldn't get Dumbledore sooner."
"James, mate," Sirius mumbled, "please come back."
My hope ran low, though, when I realized that even the headmaster couldn't help James. James wouldn't wake. I was about to give up all hope: maybe James was in a coma and would have to be moved to St. Mungo's. That would really have been terrible. But then, the Isis girl rushed from behind me and sat down next to James.
The Isis girl set her hand on James's chest and began to run her hands in circles. She said, "Daddy Harry, wake up. You're safe."
After a few seconds, she shouted, "Daddy Harry!" among other things.
Well, whatever she did, it was a supernatural, because James eventually did wake up. A golden light left from the palm of the girl's hand, and it began to circle James's body before striking him through his forehead.
And then, as if it was some sort of miracle, James opened his eyes.
"You're awake!" Isis screamed. She pounced onto James.
"Yeah, pumpkin," said James. "I'm alright."
"Don't you dare leave us again, okay Harry?" said Isis.
"I promise," James said. He then looked to us and asked, "Why is everyone here?"
At once, the headmaster stepped forward and began to check him. "Mister Potter, you had us very worried for a second."
The noise level of the room rose, and everyone began to chatter at once. When Sirius asked him, the headmaster said that James was alright and that he was just a bit panicked. I saw Sirius and Lily leave the room, and I followed them. Isis, the Romanov twins, and the Ravenclaw stayed behind to observe James, for some odd reason.
Outside the room, the hallway was dim, and there wasn't enough moonlight filtering through the windows. So, it was pretty dark out in the hall. Lily and Sirius started walking towards the end of the corridor, where there was much torchlight, and I followed them. I didn't mean to tiptoe, but I did.
"Thank goodness James is alright," said Lily. "I was beginning to fear that . . ."
"Yeah," Sirius mumbled, "me too."
I guess they didn't notice that I'd followed them, or maybe they were ignoring me on purpose. It probably was not the latter, I hoped not. Or maybe, it was just me tiptoeing and them not noticing my tiptoeing.
"Look, sorry for acting like a jerk," Sirius said. "I really didn't know what I was saying."
"It's okay," Lily said. "Half of what you said was true, I suppose."
"It's just that James really has suffered a lot," Sirius said. "And I was getting tired of . . . well, I sort of wanted to blame someone for all this."
"And I was the lucky candidate?" Lily asked.
Sirius laughed out loud and said, "Yeah, you were."
Lily frowned and asked, "How can you be laughing, Sirius, in such a serious condition? Your mate—"
Sirius narrowed his eyes and cut Lily off. He said, "Lily, hon, you have no idea what runs through my mind. Absolutely no idea of how much I care for James. James and I are brothers, not by blood, but by magic. No idea how intuitive I really am; you'd be surprised, actually. I don't care much for grades, Lils, because in life, grades don't matter. Friends and love: they matter.
I mean, Regulus gets high grades, but, I don't see Regulus succeeding in life anytime soon. He'll suffer later on in life. He might get rich or get lots of power, but what will he do with all that wealth and power? He'll have no real friends, anyone who he could trust—all his Slytherin friends would want to take his power from him. Friendship and love and relationships, those are important Lils. I honestly don't know why I'm even talking to you about all this. All this sentiment must be catching up on me."
Lily frowned, probably a bit shocked by what was coming out of Sirius's mouth. "I would have never imagined that you—Sirius Black, the guy who goes around snogging random girls in broom cupboards, and who has had at least ten girlfriends—would have such an interesting mind."
Sirius glared at Lily and said, "You don't know what goes in my mind, Lily. As a matter of fact, you never know what goes inside of any person's mind. You remember that pregnant Hufflepuff Muggle girl from last year? Well, she was raped the previous summer. Remember that fifth-year Ravenclaw who was suspended during our first year? Well, he was trying to stop bullying, and it got out of hand. You want to know why James and I act the way we do? We have family problems. Don't judge anyone, Lily hon, unless you know the truth. And, you don't know my mind. You can't read it. So, don't judge it."
Lily flinched under Sirius's gaze. She quickly changed the subject and said, "Do you cry often, Black?"
"I don't cry too often," Sirius said, his eyes becoming glazed for a moment. "I've only cried twice—once at James's mother's funeral, and once just now. That Sirius Black, the one in the room a few minutes ago—that Sirius Black was me, but it was a different me: it was me acting too sentimental. That's not the usual me. Or maybe, it's me having grown up."
"I figured," Lily mumbled. "You and James—I'd never guessed you'd be so different."
"Well, I'm quite suave normally—well, at least in public," Sirius said, with a half-grin, but his demeanor faltered and he sighed. "But, well, people are quite different in public and in private. Whatever you've thought about us—me, Peter, James, or Remus—it's probably all bogus and false. It's just that we've all got to keep up public images for ourselves, that's all, and we can't have everyone knowing about our intimate private lives. That's too personal, for anyone else to know. And, you have to realize that in times of trouble, we're not the same person you'd expect us to be. I've come near to seeing James die twice already. I can't afford to lose James."
"Since when did you get so insightful, Black?" Lily asked.
Sirius shrugged off Lily's comment. "I don't usually get mad easily, either," he said, "and I didn't really mean all that stuff back there, I'm sorry for all of it. It's just that: you've messed with James's love life too much. It was ironic, to me at least, how you were caring for him all of a sudden, when he was almost nearing death again. It was ironic, but it wasn't the least bit funny to me."
Lily shivered at the mention of death. "I probably shouldn't have acted the way I did these past few years," she said. "I realize that only now."
Sirius chuckled sadly and said, "We've all got to grow up at some point." He sighed and looked to the floor. "It's better to not grow up too fast, though. That way, you can enjoy boning as many witches as you can, before you realize how stupid it all is."
Lily frowned. "You're not the same Sirius Black I've known all these years, are you?"
Sirius shrugged and said, "I'm quite the same person, milady. You've just got to think things through from a different perspective, that's all.
Sirius let an impish twinkle play into his eyes.
"I mean, who would have ever thought that you were this caring, motherly figure, deep down inside?"
Lily scowled. "Very funny, Black."
"See!" Sirius exclaimed, jumping up and pointing a finger at her. "You're always so witty and acerbic, never caring, especially not for James."
I examined Sirius, and I saw him tweak his face so that he was wearing his public persona once again. He pretended to have recovered from seeing James's almost-fatal accident and was once again smiling. But, I could tell that his eyes weren't smiling. It was just his lips that were doing the smiling.
At some point, Lily noticed me. She pointed to me and asked, "Is that Peter?"
Sirius turned around and frowned right at me. "What 'choo doing in the shadows for, Pete? Come here, and let me introduce you to Lady Evans. The same Evans that broke Jamesie's poor heart oh so many times."
I stepped out and licked my lips. "H-hi."
I hadn't meant to hide in the shadows. I just don't like being seen.
It's frightening, the spotlight.
And, well, I do prefer the Shadows.
I feel safer there.
Author's Note:
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*I decided to lay out a timeline. So, here it is:
-Autumn of 1996: Harry breaks up with Ginny. Or rather, she breaks up with him. Or rather, they break up with one another, and Ginny breaks his heart.
-Summer of 1997: Dumbledore dies. Harry starts looking for Hocruxes on his own (with help from few allies, like Luna, Neville, and Daphne).
-December of 1997: Harry dies. He makes his wish to go back in time. Harry is only 17 years old at the time of death.
-Summer of 1960: James Potter is born.
-Summer of 1965: James's mother and father have an argument, and James and his mother move into another house, away from the Potter Manor. His mother gives James a diary to write inside of. At first, he doesn't use it, but he gets used to it.
-Fall of 1968: James's mother is murdered. James has a big row with his father. He temporarily moves into the house of his magical guardian, Augusta Longbottom. However, he does move back and start living with his father again, although he isn't too happy.
-Fall of 1971: James Potter enters Hogwarts. Makes friends with Sirius, Remus, and Peter. He starts liking Lily.
-Spring of 1972 (?): James Potter tries his suicide attempt.
-Summer of 1972: Sirius and James go to Potter Manor. They have the "Big Argument" with Charles Potter, and they go to live in the Longbottom Manor for a while. However, James eventually makes up with his father later that summer.
-Fall of 1973: James Potter goes back to Hogwarts for his third year. He realizes that he's really, really, really falling for Lily Evans now, and might possibly be in love with her.
-Summer of 1973: Harry lands in the parallel universe, inside the body of James Potter. James Potter "dies." Harry meets and later adopts Isis.
-Fall of 1973: Harry starts planning for war against Voldemort, and he decides to destroy the Hocruxes. Starts the official Marauders.
-Summer of 1974: [TBA?]
P.S. A lot of stuff in the newspaper article written by Lily Evans in chapter 3 was exaggerated-it was purposely done. For example, James Potter hadn't been living with Augusta Longbottom; he only lived with her for a few days after the "Big Argument" with his dad.
*I am very bad at keeping an organized timeline of events. Point out any other chronological issues or logical issues you see. From now on, I will be using the above timeline to keep all major events.*
