Chapter Eight: Henry and Lilah Potter…

"My mum's fit to burst," James told the other three boys the next morning as his eyes scanned quickly over the letter before him. He'd sent Pluto yesterday evening, asking his parents if his friends could stay over the holidays. Remus and Peter had both borrowed school owls to ask their parents; Sirius hadn't bothered, but insisted that his parents would be thrilled when he didn't show up. "She's already started baking and fixing up the spare rooms. You two are coming as well?" he asked Peter and Remus.

"Yeah, but Mum isn't too happy." Remus sighed. "She and Dad think I'm cutting it close."

"Well we can help you find a great gift for her birthday." Sirius offered.

"My mum says I can go, but I have to write every day." Peter said, frowning.

"Have you got one of those flittery, protective mums then?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah," Peter sighed. "I don't rightly know how I'll remember to write her every day."

"Well, I'm sure Remus won't let you forget. He's the responsible one anyway." Sirius said, grinning at Remus, who flushed. He wasn't sure Sirius was complimenting or taking the mickey out of him, so he chose not to comment.

"Last day of classes before we leave," Sirius said, spreading his arms and inhaling deeply.

"Finally," James said with an exaggerated sigh. "I couldn't take another week of this learning. It's brutal."

"How can it be brutal when you don't even pay attention?" Remus wondered, earning a half-hearted glare from James.

"I'll have you know that I make very high marks."

"I never said you didn't. I merely pointed out that you never do actual class work while we're in class. And you leave all your homework to the last minute." Remus argued. James waved his hand dismissively.

"It gets done and it's right. Stop being such a prude, Remus."

Remus frowned. "I'm not a prude."

"You're about halfway there." Sirius said, pulling a crumbling sandwich from the folds of his robes. Remus frowned again.

Their first class, Potions, was fairly uneventful (With the exception of the dungbombs that James threw at the Slytherins. He honestly hadn't meant to hit Professor Dennison with one). Defense Against the Dark Arts was, as always, a very interesting lesson. James had gotten past his original annoyance at Professor Inglewood being a female, and it was now one of his favorite classes.

Nearly all of Professor Inglewood's lessons were oral. She'd started the year out with a brief history of the Dark Arts. From there, they'd moved on to learning different kinds of defense. There was, of course, magical, and then there was physical, mental, and emotional. James hadn't realized that witches and wizards had so many ways to harm each other!

Today, even though it was the last day of the term, they were beginning a new lesson: learning how physical scars left by magic could sometimes also tie into a person mentally and emotionally.

"Like any physical scar or mark, a magical scar is easily seen. What is sometimes more difficult to see is the emotional or mental scarring that a person can have as a result of a magical attack or defense. All people, Muggles included, have emotional and mental scars left behind by people, or difficult times in their lives. Some spells, however, may cause similar damage with a simple word or phrase." Professor Inglewood told them.

Though her oral lessons were very interesting (not at all like Professor Binns, who could make rain of toads or flesh-eating sea dragons mundane…if there were such things), she remained very serious. You never saw her smile or heard her crack a joke. And James had tried. He'd tried every joke and stunt that he could think of, but she would merely blink at him and continue the lesson.

"Many studies suggest that two beings being linked one way or another with magic isn't as uncommon as you might think. All these bonds are different, however, so it's hard to pick out any one pattern." She paused. "Can anyone tell me one magical link between two people that we do have a word for? Muggles, though as a rule are non-magical, also feel this. Anyone? No? Love. Love is a type of magic that Wizards and Muggles alike feel, though neither can explain where it comes from. Two people who share this kind of connection strongly are sometimes affectionately called 'soul mates.' Not all such connections are good, however. In fact, most are highly negative to both parties involved. Sometimes enemies can share a magical bond closer than most. Imagine for a moment that you are dueling with another wizard, an enemy of sorts, and one of his spells slips though your defenses. This may cause the link between you to intensify, though neither of you wishes it. How this link manifests itself varies. You could merely be able to feel each other's presence constantly to being able to read one another's minds at will. Now over the break, I would like you to think seriously on this subject and be ready to discuss it on the first day of class. Until then I want you to split up into groups and discuss this."

"Defense Against the Arts was the most interesting lesson…" Remus all but gushed as they left Transfiguration later that day.

"I think it's all rubbish." Sirius said archly.

"Imagine for a moment that you and Snape have on of those links. Do you really want him reading your mind?" Remus asked.

"Well that would be bloody marvelous!" Sirius said.

"Marvelous?" Remus repeated dumbly.

"Well if he could read my mind then I could insult him constantly without getting into trouble!" Sirius said, grinning. Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then something occurred to him.

"But he'd also know things like when you wanted a wank or how you wonder what a girl's wearing under her shirt."

"I think we've had a bad influence on you," said James, laughing at the look of abject horror on Sirius' face. Remus smiled happily.

"Becoming a cheeky little bastard aren't you?" Sirius said before he all but pounced on Remus. Books and parchment flew everywhere. Remus, laughing, buckled under Sirius's weight, and crumpled to the floor. "I'll teach you some manners!" Sirius was bellowing, lightly pummeling Remus's back and shoulders. Then, slowly, the pummeling died off and Sirius was quiet.

Remus craned his neck, trying to see Sirius.

"What the bloody hell?" Sirius said and tugged on Remus's shirt, exposing the majority of his back. Remus panicked, knowing what Sirius had seen. He squirmed, trying to pull down his shirt and get Sirius off at the same time. But by now both James and Peter had seen too.

"Remus!" James gasped, dropping to his knees by his friend. "What the bleeding hell happened to your back?" Remus closed his eyes, not knowing what to say. He knew what they saw. White, puckered, ugly scars covered most of his back. Some, it was obvious, were old, but many were new and still angry and red.

"It looks like someone's beaten you!" Peter said, staring, unable to tear his gaze away.

"With a razor strap!" Sirius said in horror.

"Let me up, Sirius," he said softly, saying each word carefully. Sirius obeyed, sliding off Remus. The boys all stood and he straightened his shirt and, trying to be as dignified as he could, he turned to face them. The looks on their faces cased bile to rise in his throat. A mixture of curiosity, disgust, and worst yet: pity.

"Remus," Sirius said quietly. He seemed the most disturbed. "What did that to…"

"I don't want to talk about it." Remus said quietly, looking at the floor.

"But"

"James!" Remus snapped. "I don't want to talk about it." He said in what he hoped was a voice that brooked no argument. He gathered his books from where they were scattered on the floor. Before walking away he stopped, but didn't turn to face them when he spoke. "Save me a seat at the lunch table. I'm going to put my books back in my trunk."

James, Sirius, and Peter silently watched Remus maneuver through the crowd until finally he disappeared around a corner. All were stunned silent by what they had seen. As with all rare occasions, this didn't last long.

"What the bloody hell's going on? That's what I'd like to know!" Sirius said, turning to the other two.

"Well we don't know either," Peter said defensively. Sirius gave him a look that suggested that he wasn't surprised by Peter's lack of knowledge.

"I-I-I don't even…I can't even think." James confessed. He looked at Sirius. "His parents?"

"Nah," Sirius waved him off. "He's mad about his parents. You've heard him prattling on about them as much as I have. Besides, a lot of those were new, and I'm guessing, sore."

"Hmm," was all Peter said. This, more than anything, caught the attention of the other two. Right about now was when Pete started making dumb comments. Only he didn't. All he said was 'Hmm.'

"What aren't you saying, Peter?" Sirius asked. Peter shook his head, muttering something about promising not to tell anyone. "Peter," Sirius all but growled.

"Pete," James said reasonably, stepping between Sirius and Peter. "If someone's doing that to Remus, we need to know."

"Well," Peter started, his eyes darting around. "I don't know if it has anything to do with…anything."

"Just tell us, Pete. You know we won't say anything. We're your best mates."

"Well, ok…ok, but you have to swear not to say anything to Remus!" James and Sirius nodded. "Well I just thought that maybe…" he licked his lips, "that maybe those marks had something to do with his being in the hospital wing."

"When was Remus in the hospital wing?" James asked, his concern for his friend mounting.

"Well often apparently." Peter said. "Remember a couple of weeks ago when I wasn't feeling well because of the smell in the greenhouses?" James and Sirius nodded. "I went to the hospital wing and before I could say anything Madam Pomfrey starts blathering about how wonderful it is that I've come to see Remus since no one ever does and how he's always talking to her about us. I didn't know what to do, and she pulled back this curtain and there lay Remus looking like death warmed over. He was so embarrassed and kept apologizing for my having to see him that way. Then he made me promise not to tell you that he'd been there." Peter finished with a shrug. "So I didn't."

"Hang on…" James said suddenly. "Wasn't that when Remus went home for his great-uncle's funeral or something?"

"That's right! He missed class for nearly three days!" Sirius said, remembering.

"In fact," James said slowly, his eyes unfocused, "Remus has missed class for about three days every month!" The three boys stared at each other, perplexed.

"Something's amok here, and we're bloody well going to find out what it is. No one hurts our Remus." Sirius said with a frown. "Unless it's us," he amended.

They got up early enough the next morning to pack their trunks with the belongings that they'd be taking with them over the break. Wrapping their scarves tight around their necks to keep out the biting cold, they walked with the throng of students to the waiting Hogwarts Express. Smoke billowed out of the top as the magnificent scarlet steam engine chugged away from the platform. There was much more room on the train since not all of the students went home for the holidays and many students made the most of it, taking up entire compartments for as little as two people. Many of these were couples who wanted nothing more than to be left alone, which Peter realized the hard way. He walked back into the compartment that he was sharing with Remus, James, and Sirius clutching his nose which was bleeding profusely.

"What's happened to your face, Peter?" Remus said, shoving a handkerchief at him.

"I walked in on Frank Longbottom snogging Alice Arthurs when I was looking for the loo," he said, dabbing at his nose.

"Longbottom and Arthurs?" Sirius said, grinning. "Really? Well that's something you don't see every day. Can you imagine what their children would be like?"

"Incredibly boring, brilliant, and gorgeous to boot?" James drawled, thinking of the witch and wizard in question.

"I can't pass up an opportunity like this!" Sirius said, standing up. "It's not often that you find a reason to take the mickey out of those two Perfect Prefects! I'm off!" he bounded happily out of the compartment. Remus chuckled, shaking his head.

"Think he'll come back with a bloody nose as well?" James asked, staring at the door.

"Nah," Remus said with an unworried shrug, "for some reason that I can't possibly fathom, Frank likes Sirius. Why else would he put up with him?"

"Why do we put up with him?" James joked.

"You have me there, old man." Remus agreed.

Sirius came back about thirty minutes later, grinning foolishly.

"That's something that you'll never forget." He sighed happily, throwing himself onto the seat beside James and sprawling his back across James' legs. James looked down at him, disgruntled, and shoved him off. Sirius hit the floor with a thump, but didn't seem to care.

"What's that?" Remus asked cautiously.

"I walked in just as Longbottom was reaching up Arthurs' skirt." Sirius snickered, standing up and sitting by James again. "You've never seen someone in such a fury! Longbottom was shouting and Arthurs was screaming and trying to push her skirt down. She walked right out of that compartment, saying that if Franky couldn't control his friends, then he could just find someone else to snog from now on."

"Did he hit you?" Peter asked, fingering his swollen nose.

"Hit me? Of course not." Sirius said, rejecting the idea as ludicrous. "He did, however, find himself obligated to explain to me that when a bloke is snogging a bird, that it was just bad form to walk in and start making lude remarks about her state of undress. Of course, then he had to go and find Arthurs to apologize and beg her to come back to the compartment. He told me if I was there when he got back that he'd hex me into next week."

"Were you there when he got back?" James asked, though he figured he already knew the answer.

"Well of course I was," Sirius said. "Where else would I be?"

"Well you obviously aren't hexed into next week." Remus said with a smile.

"The minute Arthurs saw me, her face got all red and she started shoving at Longbottom and yelling again. Longbottom shouted at me and I believe I made a comment about whether or not Arthurs had a friend that would be as willing to snog me. She was furious! Asked if I was calling her a trollop. Well, of course, I'd said nothing of the sort and told her as much. She didn't buy it for a second. She shouted a bit more, and told Longbottom that he could look her up when he'd gotten rid of me for good. I left just after that. Poor Franky can only handle so much you know," he said. "He's delicate." James and Peter joined Sirius in a hearty laugh while Remus shook his head and chuckled.

"So what are your parents like, Potter?" Sirius asked. James shrugged.

"Like any, I suppose. My mum's a bit strict, but as long as I plead my case to Dad, it's usually not so bad. She makes excellent food, though. She doesn't like to use her wand to do it either." At the astonished looks on the other boys' faces, he nodded. "She says it taints the flavoring. She uses her hands mostly."

"Her hands?" Sirius' upper lip curled. "Is that sanitary?"

"Well, she cleans them first, you dolt," James said in exasperation. "You'll love her food. Everyone does."

"What's your Dad do for a living?" Remus asked.

"He works for the Ministry in the Magical Games and Sports Department. He's been working for a while to try and get the Quidditch World Cup held in England, but the Bulgarians are putting up some sort of fuss, insisting that since they've won the Cup the last two years running, that they should host. Dad's having a right fit."

"Whoa. I'd love to see the Quidditch World Cup held in England. Can you imagine? The Daily Prophet would be all over that story!" Sirius said, his eyes glazing over.

The rest of the ride to Platform 9 and ¾ was filled with talk of Quidditch. None of the boys were on the house team, as they were first years, but James had confessed that he'd loved playing since he was a child, and had every intention of trying out for the team the next year. He told them that since his dad was in the Magical Games and Sports Department, they had quite a few extra brooms lying about and they could play a small game of Quidditch over the break as long as the weather cooperated.

The train slowly came to a stop and the boys grabbed their trunks, James grabbed Pluto, and they went to meet Mr. and Mrs. Potter; they were exactly as James had described them. Henry Potter was a tall man with broad shoulders and a friendly face. He was smiling ear-to-ear and waving frantically; his hair was messy like his son's, but was a light brown, rather than James' black, though Henry's was showing a few spots of grey around the edges, the only hint as to his age. His eyes were the same brown as his son's. Lilah Potter was a gorgeous woman. Sirius nearly tripped when she waved at him (He didn't bother to think that she was perhaps waving at her son). Her hair was worn long, nearly to the middle of her back, and was as black as night; her eyes were violet, a rare color that seemed to be a dominant gene with the women of her family.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said, opening her arms.

"Mum," James complained, but let his mother envelope him in a hug. Sirius shot him a look. Didn't James realize how lucky he was?

"Didn't I tell you that you'd make friends straight off?" his dad was saying, beaming at the other three boys. "Didn't I tell you?" He didn't give James a chance to answer. "Henry Potter." He said, extending his hand to each of the boys in turn. He shook their hands so hard that it felt like he was trying to jerk their arms out of their sockets. "I told him that he'd meet friends straight off." Sirius thought that perhaps James's father was a bit mad. Remus thought he was quite wonderful, and Peter thought that maybe going to stay with them was a mistake. All he could think was that they must hate him. Why wouldn't they? He was ugly and fat and stupid and no one should like him anyway. He felt his chin quiver and promised himself not to cry.

Unaware of Peter's self-conflict; the rest of the group gathered their things and started walking for Muggle London. They took a cab to the Leaky Cauldron (something neither Peter nor Sirius had ever done before) and went to Diagon Alley where they could Floo to James's house.

"Just say Potters' Paddock." Henry leaned down and whispered to the boys.

"Our home is not called Potters' Paddock, Henry," Lilah said pleasantly, having heard his whispered instructions. Henry straightened up, frowning.

"It is so, because that's what I've named it." He argued. Lilah smiled over at him.

"We aren't naming our house, Henry."

"I don't see why not. All wizards should name their houses," he muttered. "It's what's fashionable."

"Some silly man at your father's work has decided to name his house after a rat's home and now he wants to follow suit." Lilah explained amiably to her son with a sigh, as though explaining her husband's odd actions.

"His name is Arthur, Lilah, and he is not silly," Henry protested. "And his house is called the Burrow. It's wonderful. You just say 'The Burrow' when you want to go there by floo powder and it takes you straight there. You don't have to say an address or anything." He frowned at his wife again. "Can we please call it Potters' Paddock?" he pleaded. Lilah shook her head no. "If you pick the name?" Henry said suddenly. "Yes! You could name it anything you wanted…" But his wife was still shaking her head. "Bugger." He muttered to himself as he stepped into the fireplace.