"Where the hell were you, Padfoot?" James demanded as Sirius stumbled into their room, clutching at his head and wincing. "We're going to miss Remus's—oh, Merlin's pants, that looks bad."
Sirius slumped onto his bed and removed his hand to reveal a deep, ugly gash across the top left half of his forehead. Peter squeaked in horror at the sight of it.
"All right, Pads," James said, coming over to kneel before Sirius, "who are we teaching a lesson to this time?"
Sirius smiled wryly through his wince. "Your favorite," he replied. "Snivellus."
James blinked. "Snivellus gave you that?"
"He used some new spell I'd never heard of—he told me he invented it himself."
"Snivelly's inventing spells now, is he?" James almost would have been impressed had the target of said invented spell not been his best friend. "Did you get him back, at least?"
"Very much so," Sirius replied. "He's about to have a fortuitous run-in with a werewolf."
James's blood turned instantly to ice. "What?"
"Snape accused our Moony of being a werewolf, strangely enough. So I told him how he could get under the Willow and see for himself."
"Are you mad?" James stood up, drawing back. "The wolf is going to kill him, Padfoot!"
"So? Wouldn't it be great to be free of that slimy git forever?"
James tugged at his hair, having no idea how to respond; he hated Snape more than anyone, but he didn't want him dead. Still, that was besides the point. "Sirius, it's—it's not even about him. It's about Moony—don't you get it? If Remus kills Snape while he's transformed, he'll never be able to forgive himself. Killing someone on the full moon has always been his worst fear in the world."
Sirius went pale as James spoke, slowly realizing the magnitude of what he'd done. His fingers had dropped from his wound as though he'd forgotten about it. "Snape was going to tell the whole school about him," he said quietly. "I—I had to do something."
"So you decided that turning Remus into a murderer was the best way to protect him? Really, Sirius?" James's voice had gone dangerously high; he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. Peter was standing a cautious distance away from the two of them, watching them with wide eyes darting quickly back and forth. "This is going to break him. If he kills Snape, it'll break him forever. How could you not realize that?"
"I—I don't know," Sirius stammered. "Oh, God, James." He looked absolutely miserable, but for once James didn't care. All he could think about was Remus's wolf tearing Snape limb from limb, Remus waking up beside the his bloody remains, remembering everything….
"We might still have time," whispered Sirius hoarsely. "It was only a little while ago—he didn't head for the Willow right away, he was probably waiting for nightfall—maybe we can stop him—"
"We are not doing anything," James snapped. He gestured to Peter. "Wormtail, make sure Sirius stays here and doesn't screw with anything else. I'm going after Snape." Peter nodded solemnly.
"Prongs," Sirius protested. "Prongs, wait—"
But James didn't wait. He tore off out of the dorm and through the common room, leaving the Fat Lady yelling sternly in his wake. He nearly flew down the shifting staircases to reach the Entrance Hall, shoving roughly past everyone who stood in his path. A Hufflepuff prefect called after him, most likely deducting points from Gryffindor for his antics, but James couldn't hear him over his own racing thoughts. He pushed out the front doors and onto the darkened grounds, glancing briefly up at the full moon overhead before heading for the ominous silhouette of the Whomping Willow.
"Accio!" he cried as he approached it, his hand flying out to catch the large stick that hurtled towards him. He used it to press the knot that quelled the tree and dove feet-first into the tunnel beneath it, lighting his wand as soon as he landed.
There was another figure up ahead of James, his own lit wand on a swivel as he headed cautiously in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. "Snape!" James yelled. His voice ricocheted across the narrow tunnel walls, but Snape did not reply, nor did he stop. "God damn it." James took off running for him with nothing left to fuel his body but adrenaline. "Snape!"
Snape was dangerously close to the entrance of the Shack by the time James caught up with him, panting heavily. Snape whirled around to confront him with an animalistic glint in his eyes. "What do you want, Potter? Trying to save your werewolf friend from me?"
"You—idiot—" James gasped between breaths. "I'm saving you—from him."
There was a great rattling noise up ahead, enough to make both boys raise their wands. The werewolf had scented them; he was trying to come after them. The door out of the Shack was reinforced with anti-werewolf enchantments, but James knew they'd been weakened considerably by the Marauders' frequent forays outside. And the werewolf wouldn't care about any pain the wards caused him, not when the smell of human blood had consumed his mind.
James pushed his way in front of Snape. He could transform into his stag, distract the wolf and give Snape time to run; but he knew he couldn't hold a werewolf back for long, not on his own. Maybe he should have let Sirius come with him.
"What are you doing, Potter?" Snape demanded angrily. "Let me through—"
"You think you're going to take down a full-fledged werewolf on your own?" James snapped back. "Did you really come down here thinking you could finish him off?"
"I came down here because your friend told me—"
"Well, my friend wants you dead, all right?" The door rattled once again, more insistently this time. "I'm trying to save your pathetic excuse for a life, you git. Get your wand ready."
"I won't—"
With a deafening crash, the Shack's door was ripped off its hinges, clattering to the ground. The dark shape of a bristling wolf crouched in the empty doorway, his tail lashing ferociously back and forth. He gave a deep-throated howl and leapt into the tunnel, charging straight for the boys.
"Impedimenta!" James screamed. The spell bounced harmlessly off the werewolf's flank. "Petrificus Totalus! Stupefy!"
"Incendio!" Snape sent a jet of flames flying over James's shoulder towards the wolf—the wolf leaped out of the way, yelping, as the fire singed his nose.
James shoved Snape hard in the side. "Don't hurt him!" he growled. "Only Stun!"
"He's a werewolf, James, he's going to kill us!"
"Shut up! Stupefy!" The spells were beginning to have an effect; the wolf had slowed in his charge, his head tilting from side to side as though he were disoriented. "Immobulus!"
James and Snape cast spell after spell as they backpedaled down the tunnel and the werewolf continued his approach, banging into walls and growling with frustration. They were two of the most powerful duellists and spellcasters at Hogwarts; James felt a strange thrill battling alongside him that he quickly shoved away.
"Stupefy!" James yelled, and it was the final spell needed to take down the wolf; he gave one final, plaintive yowl and collapsed, his limbs twitching briefly before going still. He'd been only about ten feet away from reaching them.
James put a hand to his head, panting. He'd done it: he'd kept Remus's wolf from killing Snape. He'd saved Snape's slimy, worthless life from a bloodthirsty werewolf like the hero in one of the storybooks his mother used to read to him. But it was all wrong—the werewolf was his friend, and Sirius had sent Snape to face him, and James felt nothing but hollow inside.
Swallowing back the bile that filled his throat, he turned cautiously to Snape. "Now what?" he asked him.
"Now," Snape replied, quiet as a breath, "I go to Dumbledore."
