School: Ilvermorny

Year: 2

Theme: Death of a Leader

Prompts: (Main) [First/last line] It was 11 o'clock when time stopped.

[Dialogue] "I cannot begin to express the extent of my disapproval."

W/C: 1705 words

Time Stops

It was eleven o'clock when time stopped. James Potter was sitting in the dullest class he could have been in — History of Magic — when Professor McGonagall appeared at the door, beckoning him out.

He dropped the front legs of his chair to the ground, pitching himself up and walked out of the room.

"Yes, Professor?" He said with a grin, tilting his chin up the inch or so that it took to look her in the eyes. There, he saw a somber look, and he felt the grin melt off his face. "What's happened?"

"I'm so sorry, son. There was a letter from the hospital," McGonagall started.

"The hospital?" James interrupted, furrowing his brow. "Who was in the hospital?"

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. The owl that had arrived about a week ago. He had taken the envelope that had been attached to it and shoved it in his pocket because he had been running late.

He patted down his cloak quickly, noting the rustling that sounded, and he pulled out the now-battered and crumpled envelope. Slipping his thumb under the fold, James opened it and removed its contents. He flipped it open and began to read quickly.

11:05 pm, St Mungo's Hospital

Dear James,

I don't want you to worry, but your father and I are quite sick. We thought that it would pass, but we're not getting any younger or better. I don't know when you'll get this, but if it arrives too late, we just want you to know that we love you and are proud of the young man that you've become. Never forget that. Live your life in a way that would make us even more glad that you're our son.

All our love,

Mum and Dad.

James sank down against the wall, tears filling his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. He rested his hand against his lips, catching the sob that broke loose.

"No. No. No," he muttered, clenching the letter tightly. His tears dropped onto the page, smudging the writing that he knew came from a quill that wrote alone. His mother hadn't even been well enough to hold a quill, and all he did was shove the letter in his pocket.

"Which one of them?" James croaked out, bending his knees up and staring at anything but Professor McGonagall.

He heard her take a deep breath as she kneeled down beside his shaking body. She laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"I'm so sorry, James," she said softly, "but both passed within an hour of each other. It was Dragon Pox."

"Dragon Pox," James repeated. "That takes weeks to take a life. And I didn't even know." He pushed himself off the wall, knocking Professor McGonagall's hand off him. "Mum said she was proud of me. Why would she be? I'm nothing but a disgrace."

James' sobs racked through his body. He felt Professor McGonagall pull him in, and with nothing left to lose, he clung on to her and cried into her shoulder.

Slowly, the sobs began to subside. Professor McGonagall pushed James gently away from her, and he looked up into her calming expression.

"James," she started, "you're not a disgrace. But if that's really the way that you feel, you should do something about it. Be the person that you think your parents would be proud of. You can do nothing more than that. I mean, I will always approve of you working on your studies more."

"What if it's still not enough?" James whispered.

"Your parents loved you as you are. It'll always be enough," Professor McGonagall replied. "Now, I know young Sirius lived with you as well, so come with me. We'll find him and tell him together."

James wiped the sleeve of his cloak down his cheeks, gathering the salty moisture.

"I don't know how Sirius will react," he said quietly.

"Well, let's go find out." With her firm arm around his shoulders, he allowed Professor McGonagall to lead him through the halls.

A month later.

"Okay, here is the plan for the prank against Snape," Sirius started, laying the plan down on the crimson bedspread beside James.

"I don't really care, Sirius. I'm going to the library. I have a lot of Transfiguration homework to do," James said, rolling off the bed and grabbing his bag, hoisting it onto his shoulder.

"You're what now?" Sirius asked, his jaw dropping.

"I'm going to the library," James said, rummaging through the dark brown satchel to make sure he had all he needed.

"James, you know you're my best friend, right?" Sirius asked, his face somber as he rested his hands on James's shoulders.

James rolled his eyes at Sirius's dramatics. "Yes, Sirius. I'm aware," James replied.

"Well then, I must tell you that I cannot begin to express the extent of my disapproval."

"Then it's a good thing, I don't live for your approval." James shoved his hands off his shoulders and pushed past him.

"You've been no fun since your parents died." Sirius's voice followed him.

James paused at the door, his hand hovering above it.

"One of us had to grow up, Sirius," he said before yanking open the door and slamming it behind him. He stomped his way down the stairs, narrowly avoiding a bundle of first years as he barged out through the portrait. He breathed deeply when he reached the bottom of the stairs and slowed his pace to a trudge as he made his way to the library.

When he reached the large wooden doors, he pushed through them, accepting the quiet murmurs of working students. Nodding briefly at Madam Pince, he moved down through the bowing shelving.

Turning a final corner, he spotted the desk he was searching for — the one highlighted by the sunlight through the window. He dropped his bag on the worn table, throwing himself down into the chair.

He groaned lightly as he stretched his head back onto the chair. He shut his eyes and tried to forget his final words to Sirius. There was no need for them. He knew he was hurting, too and the way he dealt with it was by pulling pranks. James found that he just didn't have the patience to deal with them anymore.

Footsteps reaching his desk pulled him from his thoughts. He opened his eyes slowly, silently wishing that it wasn't Sirius. James knew he didn't have the energy to deal with his hurt emotions.

Instead of Sirius, Lily Evans stood beside his desk, looking at him with a confused scowl.

"James," Lily greeted suspiciously. She rested her hand on the strap of the bag that James had only noticed was sitting on the back of the chair opposite him.

"Lily," James sighed tiredly.

"Are you assuming that being in a library will make you appealing to me?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"No, I didn't. I just wanted to study," James said, running a hand through his hair, pulling lightly on the strands.

"You wanted to study?" Lily asked, dropping into her chair, shock written all over her face.

"Why is that such a shock?" James asked, folding his arms petulantly.

"Because you're you," Lily tried. "Has there been something that affected your change of heart? There has to have been."

James tapped his fingers against the worn wood. "My parents passed away about a month ago." He pursed his lips, feeling the tears well up. He cleared his throat gently. "The last thing Mum wrote was that they were proud of me, and it got me thinking. I have screwed up everything and have done nothing worthy of their pride. I'm just trying to uphold their memory."

"Well, that's very noble of you. And if it means anything, I approve. Your studies are important," she stated, opening the book she had been holding and beginning to read.

James watched her take notes as she read, admiring how the sunlight bounced off her hair, turning it into a sunset of colour. He contemplated his next words carefully, wondering how well they'd be received before he took the plunge.

"I'm sorry," James said, breaking the silence that had loomed over them.

"Excuse me?" Lily asked, looking up from her book.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything that I've done to try and get you to notice me or go out with me. The way I went about things was stupid and immature, and I'm frankly embarrassed for the way I acted. If my parents knew about it, they'd be so ashamed. I'm ashamed," James said, his voice trailing off into a whisper. He could feel the pain of their disapproval, even if they'd never know.

"Did your parents know?" Lily asked.

"No," James let out a watery chuckle. "For some reason, I didn't tell them. Part of me thinks that they wouldn't have approved of my methods."

"Oh, I wonder why?" Lily deadpanned.

James felt his jaw open in surprise. "Did you just make a joke to me, Miss Evans?"

"No, why would I do something like that? I don't even like you," Lily tried to defend herself despite the smile slipping onto her face.

"I think you might not hate me, though," James said, grinning at the change of events. "You know if Sirius knew about this, he might not have disapproved."

"Oh shut up, James," Lily snapped lightly, her tone not holding its usual bite.

"Lily Evans might actually tolerate me," James pondered aloud, his hand coming to his mouth so he could tap a finger against his lip.

"What are you here to work on anyway?" Lily asked sharply, turning the conversation. It sounded like she wished to remove attention from the blush crawling its way up her neck.

"Transfiguration," James said, rolling the parchment out firmly, the grin still firmly in place.

"Oh, good! Did you understand the piece that Professor McGonagall mentioned on the frog?" Lily asked, pulling out her own piece of parchment. She bent her head down to his page of notes, willing to work with him for once.

And just like that, on a Tuesday afternoon at four o'clock, James felt time start again.