Chapter 7

James attended Margania's class one more time, and after he got ill again, things went downhill quickly. He began by skipping History of Magic on Thursdays. Then he stopped attending Defense Against the Dark Arts entirely, and there was no way of stopping him.

At the same time, however, James' behaviour began deteriorating. He became impatient, moody, shivery. There were moments when he was present and focussed, his handwriting bad as always. But then he would grow quiet, sweaty, shivery – angry. He lashed out at Peter for dropping a quill, lashed out at Remus when he was in one of his "Moony-moods". He even lashed out at Sirius.

And eventually, the boys had enough.

"He can't keep skipping class," Remus said with finality. "We've got to find him."

"And make him see reason?" Sirius made a face. "He's right to stay away. The old hag's got nothing to teach us anymore."

"Yeah well – maybe. But she's still a teacher. Do you want him expelled? Or be held up a year?" Remus shivered. He didn't want to imagine school without James.

Sirius scoffed, but followed him, nonetheless. If James left school, so would he, but he doubted his parents would allow it. His mother would for sure find a way to force him to attend.

"Where do you think he's now? He could be anywhere!"

Peter shook his head. "Did you forget? James wasn't at lunch today. He'll go to the—"

Sirius slapped his forehead, then he slapped Peter's arm. "The kitchens! Merlin, Pete! Why didn't you say that sooner!"

They raced down to the Hufflepuff Basement, skipping some some steps, sometimes coming close to falling to their deaths. Ghosts wandered, contemplating, chatting, and wagging their fingers and shaking their heads at the boys for their behaviour. But the boys did not care. There were scarier things in Hogwarts than ghosts.

They found the pear and tickled it, the door opened and their entered, and were immediately engulfed by the wafts of heat and flour and fresh pastry.

"Oh, didn't expect you to come so soon!" James absorbed some spilled ink with his wand. "Heeley is reading me a chapter out of the Great Book of Charms. You can't imagine the ideas I got now! See this parchment? And this ink? I figure if we steal some ingredients from Sluggy and mix them with the ink we could possibly make a—"

"James, we need to talk," Sirius interrupted him.

He frowned. "Uh, okay?"

"You need to come back to class, mate," Remus said.

James turned back to his notes, a parchment full of sketches. Heeley, the house elf, put the book aside and wandered off to give them privacy. "No."

The boys exchanged a worried glance.

"She'll kill you, James," Peter said.

"Okay."

"This is not funny."

"Am I laughing, Moony?"

"No, but…" Remus sighed. "Listen, I… we all hate Margania, but if…"

"Being in her class makes me sick!" James spoke with such venom that the other three flinched. He paused, staring at his parchment, and was filled with a helpless anger. Writing was difficult, had always been difficult; it had never his preferred method for learning. He much preferred listening. That's how he learned: by listening and practicing what he heard.

He pointed at the napkin lying before him and flicked his hand as the book instructed. "Diffingo olori."

The napkin shifted into a swan, like an origami figure.

Pleased, James nudged it with his wand. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The swan lifted, but James frowned. This was not what he wanted. He tried again, something different this time – something more complex. "Circumactio avis."

The napkin-swan's wings fluttered as it rose unsteadily in the air. The house elves clapped and cheered and tried to catch it, but the napkin flew higher and higher until it was out of their reach.

James grinned. "Fine," he said, so suddenly that he confused his friends when he shoved his parchment and quill into his bag. "I'll go mapping."

Remus blinked. He was keenly aware of every minute that passed that they were not spending in class. "Wait—James!"

But James did not wait. They raced after him, reached the ground floor breathless, skipped past the Great Hall, which was mostly empty, and ran up the stairs to the first floor. They turned around the corner and followed James into a wide, well-lit corridor.

He halted and looked at his parchment with a frown. "Hm, I think I've already mapped this place before…"

Suddenly a door opened. "Are you not supposed to be in class?"

The boys froze.

McGonagall arched her brows. "Well?"

"Uh…" Remus and Sirius exchanged glances. "We were just on our way..."

"Detour," Peter offered.

"A detour." McGonagall said with the dryness of a desert. "Potter, where are you going?"

"Downstairs…"

Her nostrils flared. "In the wrong direction! Ten points off Gryffindor!" she snapped. "And do not test me, Potter! Your behaviour lately—"

"Please, Professor, we can explain." Remus stepped forward, while Sirius stepped over to James in a sign of support. "We uh…" Remus was fiddling with the worn ends of his tunic. "It's Margania, Professor."

"Ah." McGonagall studied each one of the boys and found guilt and worry in three of them – but only the fourth showed fear and anxiety. That hit McGonagall harder than expected. James Potter had never shown any sign of anxiety. He faced the threats of detention and loss of points with an air of arrogance, with an air of indifference that never felt to irritate the teacher trying to discipline him. Had she missed something?

"Come inside, Mr Potter."

"No, I—"

"I wasn't asking." She opened her door fully and seeing the hesitancy in the other three said, "You might as well join. I do not trust you to go to class and stay put."

She waited until the four were seated, before she asked, "What is wrong, Potter?"

"I hate school."

At McGonagall's deadpan look, Remus felt compelled to speak.

"He hates Margania's classes, Professor. He… doesn't want to go there anymore."

"We don't want to go there anymore," Sirius clarified.

"And so, you collectively decided to skip her classes? This is not a workers' union!" ("It should be," James murmured) She shook her head, frustrated because she was not getting to the root of the problem. "I understand Margania is strict, but…"

"It's not that." Remus glanced over to James. "She… well, we don't know what she does!"

McGonagall's ears perked up at that. "What do you mean, Mr Lupin?"

"I don't know!" Remus's face was flushed. All the fear, the uncertainty, was coming out in one wave and he could no longer hold it back. He turned to James. "You've been off for a while, mate. You—You're so off, you get angry all the time or sleep all the time." He turned back to McGonagall and the helplessness made her frown. "He's been skipping classes for weeks!"

"And what did Margania do in response?"

Sirius huffed, sending James an apologetic look he never saw. "She asks about him, then we say that he's sick or something, she writes something down and… that's it."

"That is it?" McGonagall was appalled by this lack of responsibility. But still, Remus and Sirius had only handed her more questions, now she needed real answers. Looking at James she could tell getting them would not be easy.

"Mr Potter, what do you have to say to that?" She kept her tone gentle, which was difficult, because James's arms were crossed, and he refused to meet her gaze.

He shrugged, then shook his head. "'s all true."

"And?"

He shrugged, then shook his head again. McGonagall was getting a bad feeling about this. She leaned forward, concern written openly on her face.

"Did she do or say something that scared you? That hurt you?"

He shook his head. Pause. Then… "I—I don't know," he croaked, blinking rapidly. He swallowed heavily and looked away.

"Why do you not know, Mr Potter?"

He wiped his arm over his mouth and shrugged again. "Dunno, I suppose I… I wanted it." McGonagall's heart skipped uncountable beats. "I… I guessed it helped me, for a while."

"How did she help you?" McGonagall took out a wooden notepad and wrote Dumbledore a message with the tip of her quill. The message heated up the surface slightly, a sign that the message had been delivered.

"She… she gave me something." He was still blinking rapidly, and he was pressing his lips together so tightly they were almost white. A tear slipped down, and he wiped it furiously away. "To calm me down."

McGonagall took a deep breath. Alright, so the worst had not happened, but it still wasn't good. "Do you know what she gave you?"

"Yeah, Chelidonium Miniscula…"

Her eyes almost dropped out. "She gave you a sedative?"

"It's also a stimulant when mixed with bitter root…"

"Oh, is this what she told you?"

James stayed quiet.

McGonagall rubbed her face. There were many things going through her head, but the main one was that she would have to notify James Potter's parents – which promised to be a highly uncomfortable affair. No teacher ever wanted to meet the parents.

She sent a notification, trusting that it would arrive shortly, and, turning around, prepared her fireplace to allow someone to arrive through it. It took a few minutes, but she needed the time to collect herself. This was a delicate situation, one that she needed to deal with correctly. A student's life, after all, was severely impacted. She could not fail.

She studied James again. Already shorter than his friends, he looked even smaller now. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his eyes were dim and red with unshed tears. It was tragic seeing him like this, a bright, talented, brash, arrogant, generous boy brought down to this.

"How long has this been going on?" she asked, gently.

"For… for a few months, I think… November."

And no one noticed a thing? "Why did you not tell anyone?"

"I—because it helped?" He swiped his nose again. "I- I was tired of… of not being able to s-write normally a-and… it worked for a while, but…" He shook his head and this time he could not hold back his tears. "I'm so tired, I… so tired. I can't focus, can't write and I can't focus a-and I'm so angry all the time, and cold or hot! I don't understand!"

"James…"

Fire blazed behind her, sending a wave of startling heat down her back.

"Minerva, I came as quickly as—" Mrs Potter paled at seeing all four boys together, but especially at the look of her own boy. "Jamie, dearest, what is going on?"

"Mom!" He jumped out of his chair and wrapped his arms around her middle.

"Mrs Potter, I think it might be best if you sat down," McGonagall began.

"I will not!" Mrs Potter's white hair (she had always such beautiful hair!) trembled as she shook her head. "What did you do to my son?"

Her teeth gnashed. "I am afraid to inform you, Mrs Potter, that one of the staff prescribed your son with a potion to—"

Euphemia gasped, pressing her son tighter to her chest. "Someone poisoned him?"

"No, she—well… She sedated him. A teacher gave him a potion called Chelidonium Miniscula."

"That's—why?"

And here they got to the crux of the problem: James Potter himself. "Mrs Potter, your son… did you never wonder why he is given detention so often?"

"Oh, he's just an overactive—"

"Exactly!" Minerva said before Euphemia could finish her excuse. "Mr Potter is a very bright, very talented boy, but he struggles with… concentrating in class, with being quiet and still…"

"Oh, but all boys struggle with that."

"Yes, but not as much as Mr Potter. And his writing, Mrs Potter… I know his homework has improved, because he has Mr Lupin correct it," (Lupin looked startled by that),"but Mr Potter has serious writing issues."

"English spelling is difficult…"

She gave Mrs Potter a look. "Your son is struggling, Mrs Potter. He…"

"How long has this been going on?" Euphemia asked James. "Jamie, how… you never said anything!"

"I didn't want to…" he mumbled. "I—I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I didn't want to be a bother, mom!"

He started crying for real, then, and he burrowed his face in his mother's shoulder.

"Oh no! Don't- don't cry, my love, don't…" Mrs Potter burst into tears, too.

The boys shuffled uncomfortably. Peter bit his lips, his face turned red as he struggled to contain his own tears. Remus was staring at his knees, and Sirius was staring at the wall like he had become one himself. James was crying. James never cried. Things had to be really bad for him to cry like this.

There was a knock on the door, and Albus Dumbledore entered. "Is this a bad moment?" he asked softly.

It's been a bad moment for the past half hour! McGonagall wanted to yell at him, but she refrained. She had a crying mother and son in her office, and three boys who looked close to it.

"Albus, I'm sorry to inform you, but it seems one of the teachers crossed some boundaries. She prescribed and gave Mr Potter…"

"She gave my son a sedative, Dumbledore!" Mrs Potter's dark eyes blazed. She respected Albus like any other halfway decent witch, but contrary to them she never let his accomplishments and gentleness soften her. "A sedative! She—" She broke off with a sob.

Albus nodded slowly. "I see. That is indeed sad news."

"I want to take him home."

"Wait, Mrs Potter…" But Dumbledore beat McGonagall to it.

"I agree," he said, watching James in obvious emotional distress. "Perhaps until the matter is settled – which should not take longer than the weekend – it would be best if you took Mr Potter home with you. Chelidonium Miniscula is not a light sedative and can be addictive, which would explain some of the symptoms you have been experiencing, would it not?" He smiled at James.

He stared, horrified. "I'm an addict?"

"No, of course not—"

"Mrs Potter." Albus's voice was kind, yet firm. "Your son has been struggling and the sole reason he has not caught our attention in that sense sooner is all due to his wits and talent, and the love of his friends. But he cannot go on like this. Sooner or later, it will catch up with him."

Euphemia stayed quiet. Dumbledore's twinkling eyes turned to Minerva.

"We will of course have to call in Ms Margania. She has much to answer for."

"And I can take him with me for the weekend?" Euphemia asked.

"Yes, but no longer," he said. "Any longer and he would miss out much, I'm afraid."

"I catch up quick," James said.

Albus smiled. "That you do, Mr Potter. I was referring to other types of learning." And he looked at his bag out of which a piece of parchment was peeking out. James's eyes widened.

"Then I will take him home," Euphemia nodded. "And him too." She grabbed Sirius' and pressed him to her chest. "And you too, Remus, you poor thing. I can only imagine what that woman must be like to you. And come here, Peter. You will come with me, too. This is no place for you."

McGonagall spluttered. "Mrs Potter! You—you can't just take them all with you!"

"Why not?"

"Their parents…"

"My parents won't care," Sirius said and snuggled, almost imperceptibly, into the embrace.

"I am afraid, Mrs Potter, that you won't be able to take them all with you," Dumbledore piped in, amused as always. "Mr Black's parents will not be a problem, I will make sure of it, but I think Mr Lupin and Mr Pettigrew cannot afford to miss Friday's classes."

The two boys in question looked crushed. They'd been so happy, so hopeful, to be included in Mrs Potter's attentions!

"Hmpf." Euphemia did not look convinced. "I will talk to your parents, maybe we can come to an agreement."

"That is what I like to hear!" Dumbledore said. "Minerva, I will meet you at my office to continue discussing the matter. And Mrs Potter, no taking Mr Lupin and Mr Pettigrew home without asking their parents first, alright?"

At the end, Peter and Remus were allowed to join the Potters on Friday evening after all classes had finished. Everyone was surprised at finding the four suddenly gone (and resentment was great among many) and though there was much speculation, no rumour came actually close to what had really transpired.

"Heard Potter's dad's taking them to a Quidditch match in Morocco."

"I heard James' dad got Margania fired for destroying his homework!"

"Sirius and Remus broke James out of detention, and that's why they fired Margania!"

"There's no chance Potter and Black were expelled, is there?" Severus Snape hopefully.

Lily Evans smiled weakly. "I think Margania's the one who got expelled. Honestly, I'm glad. She was a good teacher, but she wasn't nice..."

The Potters and company had a great time together, though less adventurous than perhaps expected. James Potter had, despite being just thirteen years old, developed a mild addiction to the sedative potion and spent most of the weekend recovering. In other words, when he wasn't taking the antidote prepared by his father, he was sleeping in his bed. Meanwhile, having realized that his son did have behavioural problems due to an attention deficit and probably a writing disability (which would not be diagnosed for many years still), his parents began to search for a potion that would alleviate the symptoms slightly. But they were not too serious about it, for they enjoyed James' antics.

(The teachers would not agree.)

Sirius, Remus and Peter, on the other hand, spent the weekend as if in a dream. The Potters were very generous and kind. They let them explore the grounds to their liking (dinner was at seven p.m. sharp), played games with the Potters or just with each other. Mr Potter helped Remus and Peter with their homework – he was the patient parent – while Sirius helped Mrs Potter in the kitchen or in their garden. It was the best weekend they had and would have in a long while.

By the time Monday rolled around, the four were back; James still slightly shaky, but the light in his eyes was promising in a way that made McGonagall itch for a strong drink – or maybe throw something at Dumbledore, because everything was his fault, deep down.

She let out a sigh, looking down at the scribbled parchments on her desk. The third years' Transfiguration essays were very promising this time around, but when she looked at James Potter's essay, her lips twitched. She could see the corrections lovingly made by Remus Lupin; however, beneath it all was the essay of a boy who intrinsically understood the topic. Behaviour aside, he was the student any Transfiguration teacher dreamed off.

There was a screech outdoors, laughter and the squeak of shoes slipping on the floor. There were people yelling, signature voices laughing – Potter and Black.

McGonagall sighed, put down her quill and stood up from her comfortably transformed chair. Potter and Black were back. She shook her head.

"Be careful what you wish for, Minerva," she mumbled as she closed the door behind her with a faint click.

The End.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The potion Chelidonium Miniscula I took from the Harry Potter wiki. Its actual effect isn't clear (is never mentioned), but due to the name they assume it's a type of sedative or mild poison. Obviously I chose the former.

The spells I either took straight from canon or invented myself using a Latin dictionary.