Another chapter up for your enjoyment. The last one actually wasn't planned; just sort of something I threw in there. Back to the storyline—sort of.
Zetta: no, this is not a Peter-bashing story—I don't really like bashing either because it's always so crude. But remember that it's pointless to make him out as a saint, although realize this—I'm going by the book, really, and the book says that James trusted Peter enough to make him his Secret Keeper later on in life. After all, he had some Gryffindor qualities. So, Peter might be atoning for himself later—won't say no more here! But don't worry—no bashing :) And thank you for recommending me to your mailing list!
This chapter is brought to you by the wonderful folks at McWarlock's, home of the tasty Warlock Whopper and deliciously salty McFlies.
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Skirmish and Hoots: The, er, gentlemen's club, where lots of pretty witches with few clothes coincidentally hang around. Completely safe for the kiddies, as long as they're blindfolded and you put a Silencing Charm on them when you go home to the wife!
The House of Wolves
When James walked back into the common room a few minutes after his stimulating conversation with Lily, a smile was plastered on his face; one that perhaps only Remus, being rather insightful, would see as a false front. The smile became fixed as his eyes rested on Peter in the far corner, still listening in on a vivid discussion—not about Snape this time; rather, comparing the differences between the latest Cleansweep and the Nimbus 1000—and was laughing well enough.
For a moment James wanted to give him a serious wedgie. Then his anger deflated and his shoulders sagged—he couldn't be angry at Peter. He just couldn't be. As quick as James was to anger, the negative feelings ebbed away just as fast. The only exception was Snape, possibly, but that was a different story. Peter was a Gryffindor, and James wasn't about to say that every Gryffindor was without faults. Look at Lily Evans—as much a Gryffindor as anyone, but with no sense of fun.
Despite the stereotype of every popular person, James picked his friends carefully. Sirius he had known for ages; Remus, there was a decency that you could be blind and yet still see. Peter had his good points, and James didn't let just anybody in his private circle of friends, whether it was considered an honor or not. Peter just…made a mistake. His strength was his practicality, his weakness was that he lacked the solid nerves of steel that James and Sirius had. But Peter had gotten their skins out of some very bad situations; while not exceptionally impressive on the outside, he was quick to see things that other missed.
And he wasn't a bad Gobstones player, either. James smiled wryly. Just a mistake. He'd talk to Peter later, lay it out straight. After all, James had to admit the point Remus had made earlier—James hadn't explained the details about Lupi; how he knew what he knew. It was only fair to Peter that James explain. Besides, this meant that they still had a chance to get to the common room of Lupi!
Feeling a weight lift off his chest, James' smile was less forced, and he ambled over to Sirius in his usual easy, loping gait. The black-haired teenager looked up briefly as James approached and beckoned him to look at a little formula he had. James peeked and grinned outright—brilliant! He gave a solid nod of approval.
Their attention was turned back to the discussion at hand, which had abruptly turned from leaning in favor of the Nimbus to the Cleansweep. James had always liked the former better; but the Nimbus had more invested into it and therefore cost more.
"I'm putting my money on the Nimbus," Largo Ingles declared. Forever at odds with him was Terry Gallows, who was shaking his blindingly blonde head.
"Mine's on Cleansweep."
"It's solid and all, but the Nimbus is faster and goes much higher," Largo said. "It's the powerhouse of the broom series."
"Powerhouses cost big Galleons," James said mildly.
"They're worth it," the other declared, running a hand through scraggly red hair. Freckled popped out like beacons. James shrugged—the guy had a point. Largo grinned. "Plus—Valencia Hooter was sitting on a Nimbus posing for the last Playwizard. That's good enough for me."
"You've got Playwizard?" Sirius asked keenly, suddenly stuffing his work away.
"A secret stash," Largo winked at him. "Hidden under—I'm not telling you, you'll steal it," he added, seeing Sirius' face light up.
Sirius groaned in mocking despair. "Valencia Hooter…"
Terry looked deeply disapproving. He was, after all, a Head Boy, something that Largo continually forgot—the redhead had a rather selective memory. "You're not supposed to have Playwizard magazines," he said sternly.
Largo waved a hand around. "Just 'cause I say I've got it doesn't really mean I do," he said airily, winking at Sirius. "And if you keep it under your hat, I might let you have a peek at some of the magazines I 'haven't got.' There's some pretty good ones of Chesty Butlocks—" Terry coughed and turned beet red, his hair standing out like snow, but didn't say anything. Sirius laughed and draped an arm around Terry's shoulders.
"If you give into temptation, Terry," he said seriously, "don't get caught. The last thing you want is for McGonagall to catch you. She'd be so disappointed." He looked thoughtful. "But, boys will be boys. Go and have a look-see."
Terry sputtered. "I can't—I—"
"Will," Sirius offered helpfully.
Terry was red-faced for a moment, and then he reluctantly grinned. Largo laughed in delight.
"See, not every Head Boy has to be stuffy!"
"No, just responsible and mature," said Terry, still grinning, "to make up for all the rest of their House. You know they only chose Head Boys from whose Houses are the worst lot."
"Make us proud. Read Playwizard. Become one with the moving color pictures of Chesty Butlocks and Valencia Hooter—speaking of which, Hooter's better-looking."
"Of course not," said Terry, feeling obligated to argue, "Chesty Butlocks has got a much better—"
"AHA!" Largo seized his shoulder. "You have read Playwizard! You are a man!"
Terry smiled ruefully. James blinked in bewilderment---Largo had Playwizard?
"I," Sirius announced later, dumping his books into his bag, "have a Brilliant Idea."
Remus glanced at him warily, still reddened from when Largo had relented, revealed his stash, and shoved one of the controversial magazines right under Remus' nose. "Your Brilliant Ideas," he said slowly, his eyes fixed on the spot where Sirius was brandishing a Playwizard threateningly, "do not always work out to be as Brilliant as you initially thought."
James tossed in his own Arithmancy book for Sirius to carry. "Which is why we need a competent, practical, and mostly boring mind such as your own to make the necessary adjustments." Sirius threw the book back. James ducked, caught it in midair, and hastily shoved it back in the bag just as Sirius hefted it over his shoulder.
"As flattering as that is, Mr. Prongs," said Remus dryly, "do you even know what Brilliant Idea Padfoot has got?"
"I saw the way his eyes lit up at the sight of those magazines," James said. "That might have been Chesty Butlock's assets that got him goopy at first, but then I realized he had an Idea. I often wear the same expression."
"When you see 'assets', or when you have Ideas?"
"The former often provokes the latter."
"Poetical, but I cringe to think of what Lily would do if ever she stumbled onto a conversation like this."
James sighed. "Yeah."
Sirius laughed, tossing a few magazines onto the table. "You're not even going out with her, Prongs, and yet she's still got you whipped."
"So you going to tell or what?" said James, nettled.
"Well, you wanted to raise hell for the Lupi cult, yes?"
James sobered immediately. "Yes…"
"Well, what I've got in mind won't exactly reach all of them, but it could land Daniel Vargas in a world of hurt." Sirius laughed. "See these?" he said, gesturing to the magazines. "We are going to do something that we wouldn't have even done to Snape."
Remus and James both winced.
"And this would be…"
"Well, we don't know every single Lupi member out there, but we do know the head honchos. Vargas, Magar, and Shanks—the Triumvirate of Freaks. We shall crush them like the girly men they are…"
"Right on, Napoleon."
"…who?"
"Never mind," Remus sighed. "Take Muggle Studies."
Sirius shrugged. "Anyway, we're going to, er, experiment with that one potion I was looking up earlier…" James' eyes alighted with interest—the same one that Sirius had shown him before? A slow grin spread. Remus caught this and proceeded to look very worried.
"And what potion would that be?" he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
"Er—well, it was first invented by a witch who wanted her insensitive husband to finally know how it felt to have…that time of month." They all made a face. "It's the Gender Bender Solution."
Remus stared, his mouth hanging open. "You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"They'll slaughter you once it wears off."
"If it wears off—that's where the experimentation comes in."
Remus struggled to grasp the whole proposal. "That's a pretty complicated potion, probably," he said. "Where'd you find out the recipe?"
"Restricted Section, of course."
Remus sighed. "Of course."
James' eyes were getting the familiar, dangerous gleam they always had when the boys were planning something abysmally dangerous. "Sounds good to me."
Remus frowned, not so sure. "James," he said, "you're apparently what they're after—you sure you want to poke a dragon in the eye? We've got resources, but so do they…I'm not saying we shouldn't do it, but we need to have a defense against retaliation."
James looked thoughtful for a moment as he plopped down in a chair. Remus was right, of course. It was a brilliant idea that Sirius had, but Remus had a point in that the Lupi gang most certainly wouldn't like it. James stiffened. They might charm the Bludgers at the next Quidditch match or hex his broom to hurl him off, or try to poison him again. James thought for a moment, and then shook his head. This was just what Lupi wanted—to attack and try to scare him from scoring back.
"We'll just have to take the chance, and watch our backs," he grated. "I'm not going to live like a coward. Maybe we can even provoke them into trying something drastic and they'll slip up—McGonagall and Dumbledore are watching them, you know they are—and they'll get caught."
Sirius nodded, more serious now. "Sounds like the best plan we've got." He looked thoughtful. "But how to go about it?"
"Maybe it won't be as difficult as you think," said Remus. He seemed satisfied with James' answer to his previous statement. "After all, we've never yet struck back. They probably think we're scared—catch them off guard."
"Yeah…but still, we can't be obvious." Sirius sighed. "Too bad Peter got out so early. He would have made the perfect spy."
James blinked. He'd forgotten all about Peter. His stomach did a flip flop—should he tell them? James couldn't stand the thought of hiding something from his best friends, but he had a feeling that he could still sit down Peter and talk to him. No—he'd wait later until after he'd tried. It wasn't a lost cause…
Peter was attempting to get through some Potions homework. It was always his most difficult subject, and so much harder when there wasn't anybody nearby to help. Transfiguration was probably his easiest—ever since he'd been able to become an Animagi, he'd felt confident in his abilities in that particular class. But Potions? Nobody liked that except for greasy Snape.
He frowned and bit his thumb, an odd habit of his.
"Peter," called a voice. He looked up to see James striding towards his corner of the common room. "Hey," he said nonchalantly.
"Hi," said Peter, trying to sound equally as casual. He hated that his voice rose in pitch whenever he was anxious. "Er, what's up?"
James shrugged. "Not much. Some mischief."
Peter was on guard. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." All traces of a smile were fading fast. "Hey, Peter, I need to talk to you about something." James looked quickly around the room, and the smaller boy felt a growing sense of dread. "I uh, was told that you were talking to Arby—"
"Darby…"
"Sure. You were talking to him yesterday, right?"
Peter caught the hurt, shrouded look in James' eyes, asking him to deny it. He suddenly felt a wave of hot shame, and nodded miserably. He looked up, expecting to see James get furious. Instead, the teenager looked thoughtful and was scratching his chin contemplatively.
"Peter," he began slowly. The boy braced himself for the onslaught of anger. "I have to apologize to you." The words sounded strange coming out of his mouth. They were certainly unfamiliar in Peter's ears, who hadn't heard those words from anybody at all.
"What—what for?" he asked bemusedly.
James spoke carefully. "I didn't properly explain myself. I guess Magar would seem nice if you didn't know what I do…"
"…'Explain yourself'?"
"I didn't tell you why I'd like to take out Magar's guts and stuff them back up his ass."
"…Oh. Why?"
James looked at him. "Well—out of curiosity, what did you see when you went down there? What did they show you?"
Peter shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly the plush armchair seemed hard and lumpy. "Um—just everybody hanging around. They were laughing and telling jokes." He was mystified as James sat back, nodding like he had expected that answer.
"That was for show, Peter," he said firmly. "That wasn't a real meeting. That was just a ruse to draw you in. You haven't yet been to a real meeting, have you? It's not pretty—I saw it."
Peter's eyes widened. "You—saw it? When?"
Now it was the other boy's turn to shift. "Fourth year," he mumbled. "A different boy—some weirdo named Bullock—took me down there to see what went on in a real meeting. It was…satanic, almost."
"What?"
"Chanting, Dark spells, you name it, they do it."
Peter sat back disbelievingly. "Wait—they asked you in fourth year? Why didn't you say anything to me?"
"I didn't want you to get drawn into it," James muttered. "It's serious stuff, Peter—these guys are absolutely insane."
"Why didn't you tell Professor McGonagall? Or Headmaster Dumbledore?"
"I tried," said James. "They believed me, but there's no proof—I couldn't get back down to the Lupi common room, because the door only opens for a member. Plus," James added with a bit of a grimace, "you have to be careful about who overhears you telling…" James looked at Peter solemnly. "They mean business, Peter. I went through something very unpleasant when they caught me tattling."
"…Unpleasant?"
"No need to go into details. But Peter, I'm not lying, they're not above doing something nasty to those hey don't like." He studied the other boy's face carefully. "They lied to you, Peter. They want to use you for something, and when they're done, what do you think they're going to do? They lied."
Peter's mind was racing, and his quill lay forgotten next to his hand. Part of his mind shouted that James was lying, that he was just jealous; but the calmer, more reasonable part explained that James couldn't be lying; if he were, how did he know all about Lupi? James did not lie to his friends either.
Peter breathed heavily. He couldn't believe that Magar had duped him—all those disgusted looks he shot Peter, and the boy didn't even notice them, didn't want to…like James, he'd seen only what he'd wanted to, believed what he'd wanted to believe. And he had betrayed a loyal friend in the process of pursuing a higher status. Peter looked miserably down at the table, completely chagrined.
He had never felt like this; he'd never let down anybody like that before. And yet James wasn't angry; in fact, he was even apologizing for something that wasn't even his fault. He only wanted to help Peter.
"Sorry," he whispered, and he meant it.
James sat back, a wave of relief flooding him. Peter really hadn't known. A genuine smile spread across his features. "It's not your fault, Wormtail. You just didn't know."
"I should have…" Peter felt a hot anger starting to burn—both at himself, and the boy who tricked him.
"But you didn't. No harm done." James was starting to get uncomfortable—being compassionate was one thing, but he was starting to feel like he was caught in a bad story…Peter still looked sorrowful. "It's fine—but if you still feel bad, I know how you can make it up to me and get back at the Lupi snots."
Peter looked up.
"You see, the boys and I are trying to get down into the common room and show McGonagall, but only members can get down there…" he trailed off hopefully. Peter brightened a little.
"Well—yeah, I am a member," he began hesitantly, flushing, "but they're not giving me clearances yet—I have to be there for a while until they start charming the door to recognize me."
"Hmm." James bit his lip. "Well…you might just have to spy a little, eh?" He winked, still enormously relieved. The despair he had felt was replaced by a sort of giddiness. Peter nodded, still caught between a growing anger at Magar and an alleviation of conscience now that James was helping.
"So." James' eyes were questioning. "Will you help?"
Peter hesitated for only a split second. "Yes."
Well, I did say that Peter would atone for himself. And yes, there will be much, much more to this—all part of the plan kids, all part of the plan :D Much more James to come, and some frightening things (one of which is scary funny, and the other is actually scary) are on deck too. I estimate the entire thing to be about ten or eleven chapters—and after the next chapter, there won't be as much fun. This chapter, like the last, was sort of thrown in but I've got reason.
Uh, if there's OCC, sorry. I'm doing the best I can.
Alright, perhaps some L/J action next chapter, maybe a touching moment.
Please review! I'd love to know what you think.
