Chapter 4: The Case of the Missing Shoes

It has only taken the boys one week to send their room into disarray. A red, gold and black necktie is strung over one of the tall bed frames, their beds unmade and books lying over their trunks and bedside tables. Cressida has learnt over the years not to say anything. If they're content, then it's not her problem. Quite the opposite happens now, actually; embracing it as a natural space. Her own dorm often looks like nobody even occupies it. But in here, each slot of area is clearly defined.

Remus is the neatest by a long shot, with a half-attempted made bed and his books in a neat pile. James has Quidditch belongings strewn about, an open trunk, and his damp towel over his bedframe instead of on the bars near the heater. Sirius' has a defined mess, as he puts it. He assures her that he knows where everything is, and Cressida admittedly has never known him to lose anything but it's a wonder how he doesn't. And Peter's area mostly has an array of odd bits and pieces and she can't really place where most of them have come from.

James and Cressida sit on his bed, his wand out and pointed at a pair of shoes on the floor. Cressida's own wand, made of vine wood and thestral tail hair, is tucked into her misshaped bun at the base of her head. The charms book she also brought over, lays discarded on the room's shared desk.

"Evanesco."

James swishes his wand, and the shoes evaporate into thin air. Cressida grins, thumping him on the back of the shoulder.

"Really?" Their proud grins stay planted as Sirius glares at them, sitting on the side of his bed. "Those are my shoes."

"We know," Cressida replies.

He gestures to the empty space on the floor in an obvious manner, clearly unamused by his belongings being the target of their spell-work practice. "Well can you bring them back then? I sort of need those."

James' grin drops first, soon followed by Cressida's who reads his expression quickly enough. He quickly begins reading over the transfiguration book next to his lap. "We didn't get to the reverse spell in class."

"In my defence, I'm the charms one, James is supposed to be good at transfiguration."

The ruffled-raven-haired boy scoffs, attention leaving the book to rebuttal. "I am good," he emphasises. "I just haven't learnt the spell yet."

"Probably should have thought of that before you made his shoes disappear," Remus taunts from where he lays sprawled over his bed, hands stretched behind his head, simply watching them for entertainment.

James sighs exasperatedly. "Look, I know you all look up to me, but I can't know everything."

Cressida leans out of the way as a pillow is flung through the air, smacking James straight in his face. His shriek is muffled, and the force is enough to send him back onto the mattress. Cressida laughs along with the two others in the room, taking the book from his lap.

Ripping the pillow off his face, James sits back up, tossing the pillow back with the strength of a professional chaser. Sirius ducks just in time for it the soar over his head and smash into the only decorative glass vase the room has.

Pulling out her own wand and lightly twirling it between her fingers, she mutters, "Reparo," at the glass which moves through the air and joins back into one piece. Glancing back at James, she finds him squinting at his glasses which he holds in his hands. A large crack stretches over the entirety of one frame. This time she points her wand at the frames. "Occulous reparo." With a quick spark, the glasses repair themselves instantly.

Satisfied, James places them back over his nose. "I didn't know that one," he notes. "Probably be best to remember it."

"Now that you're a four-eyed," Sirius agrees.

"Keep calling me that and I won't bring back your shoes," James shoots back, sounding arrogant as ever.

Preferring to not have Sirius barking at them until he sources another pair, Cressida places the book back in James' lap, pointing to the spot he left it at. Cressida waits, watching a bare-footed Sirius nudging around with his toe as though searching for the shoes. "I hear going barefoot is trending in Eastern Europe."

"Funny, Hawthorne," he snips. Cressida rolls her eyes at the use of her last name, turning her attention back onto James, also directing Sirius' there as well by consequence. James' peeks over the brim of the book at the stares.

"I'm still reading," he says.

"I thought glasses were supposed to make it easier to see."

"Sirius, I swear to Merlin if you don't shut up-"

Sirius holds his hands up, leaning back until he lies on the bed. Cressida holds her tongue, knowing that calling them children would only extend the pettiness between them. As they wait for James to perfect the spell, Peter returns.

"So, what's the snakes' password this term?" Remus questions him.

"Mandrake," he answers promptly and proudly. The group nonchalantly nods at the information.

"Ah," James says. "We may have a problem." Cressida's eyes squint in concern, head snapping towards James. He catches her expression and quickly shakes his head. "Not with the plan, just with Sirius' shoes."

"What about my shoes?" he cries. Cressida exhales easily. They've been preparing for it the entire day and it's the only thing she looks forward to tomorrow morning when classes resume.

James reads over the page once more, lifting his head with a wince. "So, it turns out, that the vanishing spell isn't exactly what I thought it was. It doesn't make things invisible per se, rather it ends their existence entirely."

Cressida slaps her hand over her mouth to hold her laugh but Remus doesn't bother, his laughter filling the room. "Oh that's too good," he cackles, clapping his hands together as Sirius' ears begin to steam.

"That's great," the long-haired boy mutters. "That's just great."

James pushes off from the bed, heading towards his trunk. "If it helps, I am sorry," he says on the way. "McGonagall didn't explain that very well."

"That's not going to bring my shoes back."

"We could bring you Lestrange's," Cressida offers with a wolfish grin. "A simple resizing spell would do the trick."

"Probably a scourgify one as well," Sirius grumbles. "Can I at least come with you?"

James stands back up, a thick cloak in his hands. "It's hard enough when this one-" he shoves his thumb in her direction, "-steps on your toes every minute. And you walk too fast."

Cressida joins James' on her feet, tucking her wand into the back of her pants now that there's no risk of breaking it there. "I'll bring you back the shoes," she smirks. Sirius only gives her a half-hearted huff but his expression changes as they leave.

"Goodluck," he says to the pair. "Prick deserves this and more."

A swish of fabric envelops both her and James and while nothing seems different to them, besides the odd colouring of the dorm, to Sirius, Remus and Peter, they've just become as invisible as Sirius shoes. But at least they still exist.

The journey into the castle is slow but easy. The invisibility cloak was a gift from James' father during Christmas the previous year and it felt like a gift sent from the heavens. Cressida honestly has no idea if his parents have any idea what sort of mischief they get up to during their schooling times, but she doubts they are completely clueless.

The dungeons, as the name suggests, are in one of the lowest parts of the castle. Almost the complete opposite end to their own on the seventh floor. "Sirius is right, you know," James muses softly. "He deserves more than this."

"Probably," she answers in the same tone. "But it's not worth the risk of getting caught if we do anything more."

"He called you a-a mudblood." He hisses the word as though it is poison to his tongue. "He and all his friends should be expelled."

Cressida marvels at the idea. "That'll be the day. Besides, the word to me is as effective as Lily calling you a toe-rag. I'm purely doing this so he understands my warning wasn't empty."

James hums to himself but he must decide that a change of conversation is due. "She didn't call me a toe-rag today, you know. She called me Potter."

"Maybe she's taking my advice then."

His attention grows tenfold. "Your advice? You were talking about me to her."

"More like she was ranting to me about you. I told her maybe acting normal around you might make you less rumbustious. Will it?"

He thinks about the answer before speaking it. "I don't know. She's never had a proper conversation with me before. It's hard to know what that'll be like." He stops in the middle of the corridor, forcing Cressida to as well, lest she walks straight out from the cover of the cloak. James' eyes plead with her own. "She might listen to you. Can you please say good things about me? Just…encourage her to at least talk to me."

Immediately a snarky reply of "What good things?" comes to mind but the words never come to her lips. He looks desperate. A friend truly asking her for help, and he deserves the response of a friend just as willing to help him as he is to her. He wouldn't be sneaking off to the Slytherin Common Room with her if he wasn't. "Of course," she says instead. "But keep easy. Nothing's going to change overnight."

"You're the best," he declares as loudly as he can risk.

"Can I tell Sirius that?"

"Not unless you want him pouting for the remainder of the year."

Cressida lifts her hands to weighing the options, drawing a silent laugh from James before their attention is turned back to their task at hand. Every now and then she'll feel something under her foot, followed by a short hiss. "Sorry," she mutters every time. A smile threatens her lips at his tightly pressed ones, surely keeping a line of profanity from tumbling over them at her.

Xx

"Mr Black, please remove your feet from the table."

Sirius greets Professor McGonagall with a broad grin, swinging his feet back onto the ground. "Sorry Professor. I was just admiring my shoes."

McGonagall squints her eyes at all five of the usual suspects for suspicious behaviour but they've been remarkably quiet the entire morning. Finding nothing to be concerned about, her brows raise for a brief moment over the top of her spectacles before their Head of House is moving onwards towards the staff table.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Sirius leans forward over the table towards Remus and Cressida. "What do you reckon he'll come in?"

James and Cressida – well mostly James' work – has successfully snuck into the Slytherin Common Room and hunted down Lestrange's dorm room. Their names are engraved in plaques on the wall. And in just a few quick minutes, his entire school wardrobe now no longer exists.

"He'll have to come in a uniform," Cressida says. "It'll just be a matter of if he finds one that fits."

Sirius slumps back into his seat. "That's sort of boring then, isn't it?"

"Just be happy you got some shoes," James quips back, greedily eating into his omelette. "We nearly got caught because somebody tripped over my feet."

Cressida places her hands firmly on the table, leaning forward. "It's not my fault you have feet the size of a clown's!" she hisses.

"You left bruises!" he hisses right back.

Their bickering may have continued by Cressida watches as James' eyes turn away from her and trail over something past her shoulder. All eyes follow his lead. To their utter amusement, Rabastian Lestrange is quietly making his way to the Slytherin table. At first, nothing seems out of the ordinary until they notice his hands constantly gripping his pants. His entire uniform is so large, that the pant legs are scuffing the ground.

Lestrange's entire movements are centred around not tripping over and fidgeting with the shirt until he sits down. His eyes lift from the empty plate in front of him, a blazing glare settling on the group. Of course he knows it's them.

The five of them stifle their chuckles, turning back around in their seats. Uniforms are fitted with counter curses by their makers against resizing charms. Part of it is to prevent shrinkage, the other is to keep their business intact. If one could simply resize a uniform, there'd be no need to buy a new one.

James holds out a closed fist and Cressida easily meets it with her own. Sirius grins. "Alright, that was worth it. We have class with him next in potions, and we're standing up today. He'll be pulling up his pants all day."

"Worth it?" James repeats in a manner of disbelief. "Mate, you didn't even do anything."

Sirius only presses his lips tightly together, pointing to something under the table. "My shoes!"