(Note from the author: These are not my characters, my world, or my
situations. They all belong to J. K. Rowling, and are protected by
copyrights.)
The door opened quietly from the other side of the room. The light crawled over the carpet of the bedroom, making its way to the bed that held two sleeping bodies, snoring quietly.
Two figures, all donned in black, crawled from the corridor into the bedroom without a sound. One of them held a rope in his hands, and the other a gag. Slowly they made their way across the floor, drawing nearer to the sleeping man on the right side of the bed.
Little did they know that their victim was awake.
The lights flew on, and James jumped out of his bed, holding his wand out to the two cloaked figures, both frozen in the middle of his bedroom. His hair was in a mess, and his eyes blazed with fire.
"Avada . . ."
"Whoa, James!" a familiar voice came, removing his hood.
It was now James's turn to freeze, and stare at the two men in front of him. Sirius and Peter, removing their cloaks, now stood, smiling mischeviously from their position on the floor.
"Don't kill us, mate," Sirius said, "It's just us."
"What the hell are you doing here?" James said, lowering his wand, "You're going to wake Lily up! I could have killed you!"
"We're here to give you our present," Peter said innocently, hiding the rope behind his back, and Sirius nodded.
"It's your birthday, James," he said, "Tell me you forgot."
"It's . . . what?" James yawned, and reached for his glasses.
Peter tried to stifle laughs while Sirius rolled his eyes, and crossed to Lily's side of the bed, "Hey, Evans!"
"Hey, don't wake her up," James said, grabbing Sirius by the shoulders and trying to tug him back, "She hasn't been sleeping very well . . ."
"Get him, Wormtail," Sirius said, spinning around, and jumping ontop of James. The two boys fell to the floor with a thud, and Lily stirred in her sleep. James struggled with the two boys as they brandished the rope and gag, and bound him.
"What the hell are you . . ." he managed to get out before they tied the hankerchief around his tender jaw. He cried out in pain.
"Oh, shut up," Sirius said, "It's your twentieth. Just having a bit of fun, that's all. All right now, heave ho . . ."
The two boys heaved their friend between them like a piece of luggage as they made their way into the hallway and away from the sleeping Lily.
"Come on, don't be such a baby," Sirius said, "Peter, get a better grip on him. He's slipping."
"He's struggling!" Peter said, trying to keep a hold of James's feet, "He won't stay still! Maybe he doesn't want to do this . . ."
"Come on now, he'll love it, won't you, James?" Sirius laughed as they started down the stairs into the main hall next to the parlor, "It's for your own good, mate."
"Mmmph!" James retorted.
The three boys hit the bottom of the stairs, and James gave a particularly hard kick. Peter squealed, and let go of his legs. James took this opportunity to wriggle his way free of Sirius, and roll into the parlor. Sirius pushed past Peter, who was sprawled out on the staircase, and leaped ontop of his captive yet again. James gave out a resounding shout of a word that none of them could truly make out, and struggled yet again.
Sirius laughed, and dragged his friend back through the main entrance hall, and kicked the door open with his foot. James could see a black car waiting for them, parked outside his house in the street. Someone was standing next to the passenger side, holding the door open and waiting.
James stopped struggling, and peered at this figure, also cloaked. It was a figure that he hadn't seen for a while.
Sirius stood James up on his own feet, and ungagged him, "Now," he said, "Happy Twentieth Birthday, James."
Remus Lupin smiled sheepishly from his spot by the open door. James slowly felt himself smiling as well, and there was a silence on the street as the two men cautiously looked to each other. Sirius felt a large weight remove from his shoulder. Good.
No more heart to hearts with James.
He was no longer the temporary replacement.
"I hear Lily upstairs," Peter shouted, running out of the house, and slamming the door behind him, "Let's make a run for it!"
"Come on," Sirius said, untying James, "Let's get going."
James had had no idea where they were going. And he still had no idea as they made their way to King's Cross in London, driving through the streets. The only other one of them that had gotten their liscense other than James had been Sirius, due to his motorbike needs. Therefore, Sirius was now driving at break-neck speeds, with Remus sitting next to him, quietly reminding him to not refrain from using his turn signals. Peter was in the back, nervously looking at James as if somehow his friend was going to lash out and kill him for tying him up.
It was odd, to see these four friends in the Ministry Car, driving along with the Muggles as if they were one of them. James wondered how they could have gotten the Ministry car . . . probably Sirius and his connections with Moody and Frank.
James tried to look out his window and stare at the people in the cars next to them. They were real Muggles. They didn't know what sort of hell this world was going through right now. They were still innocent.
He tried to pretend that his friends and him were also Muggles. Were also innocent. They were just a bunch of boys going out to King's Cross to catch a . . . what did they call them . . . football . . . game. And that they would never have to have another worry in their life.
"Can I please drive?" Remus said, as Sirius veered into another lane.
"Do you have a liscense?" Sirius said gruffly as he tried to maneuver the car into a parking garage of King's Cross.
Remus shook his head as he braced himself for a screeching turn, "Then that answers your question," Sirius said, as he spun the wheel to the left. James's face was plastered up against the window as they spun into a parking space and slammed on the breaks.
"Now," Sirius unbuckled himself as Remus put a shaky hand through his hair, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
The train was taking them somewhere. It had left from Platform 9 ¾; a place that James thought he would never see again. This time, the train was not Hogwarts Express, and any sign of the word Hogwarts had magically changed into golden and blue letters reading, "Canons vs. Bats."
James hadn't seen these signs as they made their way to the entrance of the train compartment, where a conductor took their tickets, and patted Peter on the back for some unknown reason. Sirius didn't notice, though. He was too preoccupied trying to secretly make some sort of deal with a shady looking fellow in the corridor.
"Who was that?" James asked as his friend made his way back into their compartment.
"My bookie," Sirius said, looking at his receipt, "You remember Dung, don't you? Hey, Dung!"
A sleek-looking face with long eyes and even longer expression peered his neck through the door, and gave a laugh.
"Why, if it isn't little Potter, all grown up!" the bookie said, stepping into their compartment, and giving James a punch on the arm, "I's haven't seen the likes of you in how long . . . at least a couple o' years."
"Hello, Dung," James said, massaging his shoulder, and Sirius laughed, "It's James's big 2-0 today," he informed their old acquaintance, and Dung nodded.
"Ah, takin' him to the big game, I see," he said, "You'll remember good ol' Orlick, right? Greasings?"
Dung looked to James in anticipation, and James shrugged, "Not really. Can't really . . ."
"Ah, he was the large kid that was on the team withca, don't you remember?" Dung said, punching him again on his other shoulder this time, "Large fellow. I think he played a Beater, didn't he, Sirius?"
Sirius shrugged.
Greasings. What about Greasings? James could recall a face. A larger boy that reminded him of Professor Snorks at tryouts with him. A Beater on the team. Orlick Greasings, his friend from school. Yeah, he remembered him. Sort of a dim fellow, but always there to support him when another teammate got him down.
"Well, he's on the Bats now," Dung said, "Startin' as a Beater. Rookie this year. Just got out of the fall training, and started in the spring. I'm surprised you ain't heard of him, James. Thought you would have been watchin' all o' the games this season. You were the best, you know."
"I've been busy," James said quickly.
Dung gave James a look, and slowly waved to Sirius, "Good seein' you chaps again. See you around."
And the compartment door closed behind him.
James knew where they were going now. They were going to the Quidditch game between the Chasers and the Bats. It was going to be like old times, the guys sitting in the stands of a Quidditch pitch, watching the players fly in front of them, throwing the balls back and forth and chasing after the Snitch.
Except this time, James would be sitting with them in the stands instead of flying high in the sky. This time, James would be a spectator.
The door opened quietly from the other side of the room. The light crawled over the carpet of the bedroom, making its way to the bed that held two sleeping bodies, snoring quietly.
Two figures, all donned in black, crawled from the corridor into the bedroom without a sound. One of them held a rope in his hands, and the other a gag. Slowly they made their way across the floor, drawing nearer to the sleeping man on the right side of the bed.
Little did they know that their victim was awake.
The lights flew on, and James jumped out of his bed, holding his wand out to the two cloaked figures, both frozen in the middle of his bedroom. His hair was in a mess, and his eyes blazed with fire.
"Avada . . ."
"Whoa, James!" a familiar voice came, removing his hood.
It was now James's turn to freeze, and stare at the two men in front of him. Sirius and Peter, removing their cloaks, now stood, smiling mischeviously from their position on the floor.
"Don't kill us, mate," Sirius said, "It's just us."
"What the hell are you doing here?" James said, lowering his wand, "You're going to wake Lily up! I could have killed you!"
"We're here to give you our present," Peter said innocently, hiding the rope behind his back, and Sirius nodded.
"It's your birthday, James," he said, "Tell me you forgot."
"It's . . . what?" James yawned, and reached for his glasses.
Peter tried to stifle laughs while Sirius rolled his eyes, and crossed to Lily's side of the bed, "Hey, Evans!"
"Hey, don't wake her up," James said, grabbing Sirius by the shoulders and trying to tug him back, "She hasn't been sleeping very well . . ."
"Get him, Wormtail," Sirius said, spinning around, and jumping ontop of James. The two boys fell to the floor with a thud, and Lily stirred in her sleep. James struggled with the two boys as they brandished the rope and gag, and bound him.
"What the hell are you . . ." he managed to get out before they tied the hankerchief around his tender jaw. He cried out in pain.
"Oh, shut up," Sirius said, "It's your twentieth. Just having a bit of fun, that's all. All right now, heave ho . . ."
The two boys heaved their friend between them like a piece of luggage as they made their way into the hallway and away from the sleeping Lily.
"Come on, don't be such a baby," Sirius said, "Peter, get a better grip on him. He's slipping."
"He's struggling!" Peter said, trying to keep a hold of James's feet, "He won't stay still! Maybe he doesn't want to do this . . ."
"Come on now, he'll love it, won't you, James?" Sirius laughed as they started down the stairs into the main hall next to the parlor, "It's for your own good, mate."
"Mmmph!" James retorted.
The three boys hit the bottom of the stairs, and James gave a particularly hard kick. Peter squealed, and let go of his legs. James took this opportunity to wriggle his way free of Sirius, and roll into the parlor. Sirius pushed past Peter, who was sprawled out on the staircase, and leaped ontop of his captive yet again. James gave out a resounding shout of a word that none of them could truly make out, and struggled yet again.
Sirius laughed, and dragged his friend back through the main entrance hall, and kicked the door open with his foot. James could see a black car waiting for them, parked outside his house in the street. Someone was standing next to the passenger side, holding the door open and waiting.
James stopped struggling, and peered at this figure, also cloaked. It was a figure that he hadn't seen for a while.
Sirius stood James up on his own feet, and ungagged him, "Now," he said, "Happy Twentieth Birthday, James."
Remus Lupin smiled sheepishly from his spot by the open door. James slowly felt himself smiling as well, and there was a silence on the street as the two men cautiously looked to each other. Sirius felt a large weight remove from his shoulder. Good.
No more heart to hearts with James.
He was no longer the temporary replacement.
"I hear Lily upstairs," Peter shouted, running out of the house, and slamming the door behind him, "Let's make a run for it!"
"Come on," Sirius said, untying James, "Let's get going."
James had had no idea where they were going. And he still had no idea as they made their way to King's Cross in London, driving through the streets. The only other one of them that had gotten their liscense other than James had been Sirius, due to his motorbike needs. Therefore, Sirius was now driving at break-neck speeds, with Remus sitting next to him, quietly reminding him to not refrain from using his turn signals. Peter was in the back, nervously looking at James as if somehow his friend was going to lash out and kill him for tying him up.
It was odd, to see these four friends in the Ministry Car, driving along with the Muggles as if they were one of them. James wondered how they could have gotten the Ministry car . . . probably Sirius and his connections with Moody and Frank.
James tried to look out his window and stare at the people in the cars next to them. They were real Muggles. They didn't know what sort of hell this world was going through right now. They were still innocent.
He tried to pretend that his friends and him were also Muggles. Were also innocent. They were just a bunch of boys going out to King's Cross to catch a . . . what did they call them . . . football . . . game. And that they would never have to have another worry in their life.
"Can I please drive?" Remus said, as Sirius veered into another lane.
"Do you have a liscense?" Sirius said gruffly as he tried to maneuver the car into a parking garage of King's Cross.
Remus shook his head as he braced himself for a screeching turn, "Then that answers your question," Sirius said, as he spun the wheel to the left. James's face was plastered up against the window as they spun into a parking space and slammed on the breaks.
"Now," Sirius unbuckled himself as Remus put a shaky hand through his hair, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
The train was taking them somewhere. It had left from Platform 9 ¾; a place that James thought he would never see again. This time, the train was not Hogwarts Express, and any sign of the word Hogwarts had magically changed into golden and blue letters reading, "Canons vs. Bats."
James hadn't seen these signs as they made their way to the entrance of the train compartment, where a conductor took their tickets, and patted Peter on the back for some unknown reason. Sirius didn't notice, though. He was too preoccupied trying to secretly make some sort of deal with a shady looking fellow in the corridor.
"Who was that?" James asked as his friend made his way back into their compartment.
"My bookie," Sirius said, looking at his receipt, "You remember Dung, don't you? Hey, Dung!"
A sleek-looking face with long eyes and even longer expression peered his neck through the door, and gave a laugh.
"Why, if it isn't little Potter, all grown up!" the bookie said, stepping into their compartment, and giving James a punch on the arm, "I's haven't seen the likes of you in how long . . . at least a couple o' years."
"Hello, Dung," James said, massaging his shoulder, and Sirius laughed, "It's James's big 2-0 today," he informed their old acquaintance, and Dung nodded.
"Ah, takin' him to the big game, I see," he said, "You'll remember good ol' Orlick, right? Greasings?"
Dung looked to James in anticipation, and James shrugged, "Not really. Can't really . . ."
"Ah, he was the large kid that was on the team withca, don't you remember?" Dung said, punching him again on his other shoulder this time, "Large fellow. I think he played a Beater, didn't he, Sirius?"
Sirius shrugged.
Greasings. What about Greasings? James could recall a face. A larger boy that reminded him of Professor Snorks at tryouts with him. A Beater on the team. Orlick Greasings, his friend from school. Yeah, he remembered him. Sort of a dim fellow, but always there to support him when another teammate got him down.
"Well, he's on the Bats now," Dung said, "Startin' as a Beater. Rookie this year. Just got out of the fall training, and started in the spring. I'm surprised you ain't heard of him, James. Thought you would have been watchin' all o' the games this season. You were the best, you know."
"I've been busy," James said quickly.
Dung gave James a look, and slowly waved to Sirius, "Good seein' you chaps again. See you around."
And the compartment door closed behind him.
James knew where they were going now. They were going to the Quidditch game between the Chasers and the Bats. It was going to be like old times, the guys sitting in the stands of a Quidditch pitch, watching the players fly in front of them, throwing the balls back and forth and chasing after the Snitch.
Except this time, James would be sitting with them in the stands instead of flying high in the sky. This time, James would be a spectator.