Chapter Twenty: What Is and What Should Never Be

The three of them raced down the marble steps, ignoring the paintings that scolded them, pushing past the students that leapt hastily out of their way, and soon, they reached the third floor, and the familiar sounds of a yelling crowd drew closer and closer.

The armoury was more packed than James had ever before seen it in his life. The suits of armour, who usually stood guard between the windows, were now gone; perhaps they had fled in fear? The alcove opposite the trophy room – which remained, thankfully, locked – was where the main attraction was happening, and in the very middle of the crowd, the prime suspects: Peter and Avery. Mulciber and Rosier stood behind him, glowering at everybody like a pair of gorilla bodyguards.

"Prongs!" Sirius appeared all of a sudden, gripping his shoulders. "And Moony, too – I can't get a good hit on them, what with the place like this… you've got to stop them."

"What're they doing?" asked James.

"Interrogating, I think," said Sirius. "I don't really want to land myself in another detention, so I'll leave you to it, yeah?"

James and Remus shouldered their way into the crowd; Fortuna had fallen back and was trying to get the students to leave, but that didn't matter. Peter breathed a sigh of relief, but shut up when the tip of Avery's wand dug deeper into his throat. Avery looked around, then saw the two of them and grinned.

The scene was all very familiar. It was like James had experienced it before.

Confusion solidified itself even more in him. His moral compass was spinning like crazy. What was he supposed to do? Should this be resolved peacefully, or should he just assign them detentions, and be done with it?

He tried for a very intelligent, "What's going on here?"

"Hm?" Avery tightened his grip on Peter. "What do you know, Pettigrew, looks like your guardian angel's here."

Peter made no noise; his eyes darted nervously from Avery's wand to James and Remus.

"Lower your wand, Avery," said James. "And get away from Peter. You're in enough trouble as it is."

Avery did neither, and instead continued to grin in that sick, twisted manner. He looked like he was savouring every moment.

"Not until Pettigrew's paid for what he's done," said Avery. "I told you, didn't I? If I caught you sneaking around our common room, you'd be sorry –"

"Peter is sorry," said Remus. "Be a good boy and lower your wand."

Avery snorted. "You're worth less than Pettigrew's bloody snot I had to wipe off from my fingers, Lupin. You don't get to tell me what to do."

"Oh yeah?" James stepped forwards, scowling. "Here's a newsflash, mate: he's a Prefect. I suggest you listen to him before I make you tapdance your way out the window."

"Not until your friend's paid for what he's done," repeated Avery, poking Peter's jaw with his wand. "He's gotten away with too much, you're supposed to be on my –"

"I don't bloody care," James snapped. He didn't know why his heart was thumping with rage, or why this whole situation troubled him so. "Peter's already served his detentions, now get away –"

He had raised his wand automatically. The crowd yelped and scrambled back, giving them a wide berth. Then he took a sharp breath.

Something dawned on him and, for a moment, he faltered; he realised now why the scene was so very familiar, and why it was so unnerving to him. Watching Avery smile down, unconcerned, at another student, with his wand out and pointed – it reminded James of himself.

The years of bullying, cursing and hexing other students were flashing before his eyes, and James saw, somehow, himself as Avery.

Remus pulled his arm back. He shot him a warning look.

"Don't make this worse, Prongs," muttered Remus. "McGonagall's coming, don't forget."

"Y-yeah…"

James's breath hitched; the rage stopped flowing in him, and was replaced – not all at once, but slowly, gradually – by a horrible feeling of remorse.

He couldn't afford to be feeling this way. There was still a job to do. He would feel sorry for himself later.

"Lower your wand," Remus ordered Avery. "And get away from Peter."

"Not until he gets what he deserves," repeated Avery.

"And what exactly does he deserve?" said Remus. "He already knows what foul gits you all are, so unless there's a penalty for meshing with your lot –"

"You don't get it, do you?" spat Avery. "You Gryffindors, always looking to pick fights with us Slytherins, ruining a healthy rivalry –"

"Oh, don't make me laugh, Avery," scoffed James. "Everyone knows you couldn't care less about any sort of rivalry if it meant you could do whatever you wanted with them."

Avery drew his wand from Peter's neck and brandished it at him and Remus, a furious look on his face.

"You're one to talk," he snarled. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were the one that told Pettigrew to come to the dungeons, as he hasn't got any brains to think for himself –"

"And do WHAT?" James nearly bellowed. "Far as I know, you just found him hanging around your stupid common room, and he's already gotten detention for that!"

They continued their standoff; Avery, with Mulciber and Rosier behind him, and James and Remus. The more they continued to glower at each other, the clearer James realised, with a slight feeling of embarrassment, that this must have been what he looked like, all those years before.

He saw now that Avery wouldn't back down. James wouldn't have, either – things had to get a lot worse than this if something were to change. He searched his memory for something about Avery, something that would change the course of this whole situation.

"You're joking, Potter," muttered Avery at last. "Mulciber – show him."

The beefy boy strode forwards, his face still in that menacing glower – then he pulled back his sleeve, and displayed for all the world to see: My daddy is You-Know-Who's biggest fan!

A ripple of sniggers and hastily-covered laughs passed through the crowd. Avery's eyes narrowed.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" said James.

"James," hissed Remus, lifting his wand quickly to stop Mulciber from barreling in their direction.

Avery, who had gone very white, marched right up to them, disregarding Remus's wand, and planted himself firmly in front of James, his bloodshot eyes glaring up at him with hatred and loathing.

"What's true, Potter," he said in a low voice, "is how utterly pathetic you are, and your little friends – you haven't got the guts to say it to my face –"

"I'm pretty sure I just did," James shot back.

"Course you did." Avery's wand arm twitched. "Since we've established that bit to be true, you should also know – since Mulciber's dear old dad is the Dark Lord's biggest fan – that you, you filthy blood-traitor… you're going to get killed if you keep mouthing off."

"A week's worth of detention, Avery," snarled Remus, jabbing his wand at Avery's gut. "Keep mouthing off and I'll give you a whole month's."

"Maybe you'd like to join him, Lupin?" Avery backed away slowly, his malicious grin returning to his face. "I'd rather die than live like a peasant – 'cos that's what you are, isn't it? You haven't got any coin to your name, and it shows, Lupin, how you stink like the dirt on my boots –"

Remus elbowed James in the stomach, preventing him from uttering a curse. The crowd had slowly dispersed, sensing a potential fight.

"Course, it's better than being a coward," said Avery, glancing at Peter, who was trembling from head to toe as he tried to merge with the alcove. "Pettigrew, Pettigrew… least you didn't rat out your friends. Then again, we didn't try very hard, did we? I mean, who would, when you've got brains like bleeding Pettigrew?"

James was struggling now; this was going too far, too quickly. The rage had returned, flowing like lava inside him; he knocked Remus's hands out of the way and tried to take aim at Avery –

"Get – off – it, Moony –"

"A month of detention!" cried Remus desperately, grabbing hold of James's robes. "Just leave it, James, McGonagall's going to come soon!"

Avery laughed.

"He's not going to leave it, of course he wouldn't, that's why he's friends with Black – perhaps the biggest idiot of you all. Throwing away his life as a pureblood, running away from home… I reckon he's an even bigger coward than you, Pettigrew! Even his own stinking mother didn't want him!"

Something came very close to snapping inside James. His heart was beating a purple tattoo near his chest. His wand arm went rigid.

"Seems you can't get to James Potter without insulting all of his friends!" jeered Avery, leering as he backed away. "There's one more, Potter – your girl, Evans, she's been the talk of Slytherin for ages! Truly a shame that Severus isn't here to listen to me talk about that stuck-up, little Mudblood –"

James did not remember dropping his wand, he did not remember pushing Remus out of the way; Sirius's shouts behind him were but dull echoes, echoes that he blocked from his mind, as well as every other sense of reason; he released all of his anger, his frustration and remorse through his fist, and the THUNK it made when he sank it into Avery's jaw was so very satisfying –

More people bellowed around him. There was a great rush, and many hands grasped at his shoulders, trying to pull him off, but he didn't care, it was, after all, not just Avery that he was attacking – his former self, his mistakes, he embraced and accepted, and he let out all his pent-up feelings through one, last punch –

"IMPEDIMENTA!"

Then he was flying backwards, unable to move or speak.

His hand throbbed, and he felt a thick substance drip down his knuckles onto the floor. As he steadied his breathing, and leapt up to his feet, he saw that the remaining crowd had parted before Professor McGonagall, who had her wand out. Avery was curled up on the floor, whimpering, clutching his jaw as blood guzzled out of his mouth; Remus, Sirius and Peter stood behind James, all wearing identical expressions of disbelief.

McGonagall bent down and waved her wand over Avery's body. The blood vanished, and his jaw slackened. James remained quiet, his Head Boy badge burning a hole in his heart.

"Stand up, Mr Avery," said Professor McGonagall, lifting Avery up by the hood of his robes. "While I am sure you are fine, a trip to the hospital wing wouldn't hurt." She winced; perhaps she thought her choice of words hadn't been very sensitive. "Mr Rosier, take him, please."

Then she finally turned back to James, her face a mixture of fury and disappointment.

"My office, Potter," said McGonagall, her voice quivering. "Go. Now!"

James snatched his wand from the floor and swept past her without a word, his eyes unblinking, his mouth quite tight. He climbed down the marble steps, all the way to the first floor, bumping into other students, and his breathing became increasingly shallow as he reached a corridor, then he stopped.

He looked out the window. The sun had gone down, and the last spots of purple and orange glowed in the distance. A horrible feeling of dread churned in his stomach as he thought about what would happen to him; he imagined Lily returning to the castle and finding out that he, James, had landed himself in detention… again… her disappointment would, surely, be a thousand times worse than Professor McGonagall's…

He steeled himself and broke into a fast trot down the corridor, reaching Professor McGonagall's door. He wrenched it open and stepped inside, the strangely cosy office welcoming him with an ominous coldness. The fireplace was out, and the torches dead. James stood close by Professor McGonagall's desk but did not dare conjure a chair or sit down.

An age had passed when the door finally opened again, and Professor McGonagall entered. She was wearing a pointed witch's hat, but she tore it off her head and tossed it across the room, where it floated onto a rack.

"Muggle duelling," spat Professor McGonagall. "Of all the things…"

She collapsed on her chair and placed her head in her hands. James counted silently, and it wasn't until he reached five that she looked up again.

"Well?" she said. "What's your excuse this time, Potter? You tripped, and your hand happened to land on Mr Avery's face? Did he insult all of Gryffindor, and you decided to take matters into your own –"

"It wasn't like that!" James said indignantly. "He had Peter, he was seriously scaring him, and then he thought it was a good idea to have a go at –"

"But instead of sorting it out like a responsible adult," she began, her voice rising with every word, "you decided you'd rather break the boy's jaw –"

"It's like you said, I had to take matters into my own hands –"

"Being Head Boy means you can't take matters into your own hands!" shrieked Professor McGonagall. "You can't let things get personal, Potter! I thought you had finally let go of your temper, and matured a bit!"

"I tried to reason with him!" said James. "He wasn't listening, so then he tries threatening me. Would you have me do nothing?"

"Frankly, yes! I'd rather you left someone more responsible than yourself to deal with the situation, than have a whole fiasco unfold before me! You had no right to do what you just did, Potter!"

"Then Avery should be allowed to say whatever he wants, should he?" yelled James, unable to keep his voice down any longer. "It's alright for him to insult everyone, but it isn't when I try to shut him up?"

"You are missing the point!" she shouted, slamming a fist down her desk so that the contents on it shook. "Potter, you punched Avery in the face!"

"I KNOW!" roared James. "I know, Professor, I was there – but he deserved it, and if I had the chance, I would've hit him harder –"

"It is astonishing how little self-awareness you have!" Professor McGonagall's voice had risen to a shrill Scottish tone. "Not every problem has to be solved through the use of fists and violence!"

"I couldn't just leave him be after what he said!" said James. "I'm not going to stand by and let him – Professor, he provoked me!"

"He was just caught cornering another student, wasn't he, of course he would try to provoke –"

"So it's fine for him to do that, then?" snarled James. "And when I hit him once, suddenly I'm the bad –"

"YOU ARE HEAD BOY, POTTER!" she bellowed.

"THEN I – DON'T – WANT – TO BE!"

The words had exited his mouth before he had a chance to stop and think. It didn't matter; he ripped his badge from his robes and thrust it at Professor McGonagall.

"You said it yourself," said James. "I haven't got the temper or patience or whatever, and it's too much of a responsibility…"

Professor McGonagall scowled at his hand.

"You're being ridiculous," she said coldly. "Put it back on."

James hesitated; he considered throwing it at her desk, just to spite her, but he squeezed his fist and pinned the badge back on to his chest.

"Sit down, Potter," said Professor McGonagall in a tired voice. "And let us be free of this boorish exchange."

She gave a tiny flick of her wand, and a small, straight-backed wooden chair appeared out of nowhere behind him. He, too, hesitated at this; sitting down would be admitting that he no longer wanted to argue.

But he sat down, conceding that it was rude not to do so (he pointedly ignored having had a shouting match just seconds before), and waited for Professor McGonagall to speak.

"How many times have we sat together, Potter? Here, in this office?" she asked. "How many times have we had this conversation?"

"Too many to count," said James, before he could stop himself.

Professor McGonagall smiled grudgingly. "Yes, indeed. And how many times have you left this office, without having my words go through one ear and out the other?"

"We both know the answer to that, Professor," said James heavily, looking down; he could not be bothered to look her in the eye.

For a few moments, they said nothing. James continued to stare at his shoes, and then, as an awkward feeling of uneasiness grew inside him, he said, "Why'd you choose me to be Head Boy?"

He thought he saw Professor McGonagall roll her eyes.

"When I gave your name to Professor Dumbledore, Potter, I knew there was a good chance that he would choose you. I knew that if indeed you became Head Boy, it would not be without its… fair share of events, you would say."

"So you were trying to make me change?"

"In some areas, maybe. In others… not so much. You're too stubborn, I'm afraid."

James looked up. Professor McGonagall looked both amused and tired.

"You're really not doing a good job of making me feel better, Professor," muttered James. "Why consider me at all? Why not choose someone more suitable, like Remus?"

Professor McGonagall shrugged.

"Who knows? Perhaps because I thought it would be interesting to have you as Head Boy. We teachers do need entertainment, you know. Or perhaps," she added, for James had made a face, "because I thought you needed some guidance, Potter. The students my fellow colleagues had suggested to Professor Dumbledore were already natural role models: brilliant, kind, and full of leadership. I decided you should also be able to compete with them."

James remembered the way he had felt when he first opened his seventh-year letter. At the time, the Head Boy badge that had fallen out of the envelope had seemed so unreal, so out-of-reach…

He didn't deserve it. And yet, he wanted to keep the badge, he wanted to keep being Head Boy. He wanted to prove that he had changed, that he was no longer the arrogant boy that cursed and hexed others for fun.

"Do you regret picking me as Head Boy?" asked James in a quiet voice.

Professor McGonagall pondered the question.

"I have had many interesting thoughts and opinions on your becoming Head Boy. I assure you, Potter, regret has never crossed my mind. You underestimate yourself, which is surprising."

James looked down again. Here was the proof, harsh and blunt, and at the same time, sort of relieving: he was not a failure, he had not yet become irredeemable. As he stared at his hands, he noticed that Avery's dried blood had not yet gone.

"With that said," continued Professor McGonagall suddenly, her voice now stern. "Your behaviour was still disgusting and unacceptable, and I will be giving you three day's worth of detention –"

"Three days of detention!" repeated James, horrified. "Professor, is there any way –"

Professor McGonagall snorted. "Absolutely not. You'll be having them with me, Potter. I think they'll be rather enjoyable."

"At least promise me that Avery won't be getting away with this."

"That will depend on his actions regarding the event," said Professor McGonagall testily.

"He called Remus poor," said James in a hollow voice. "He called Peter a brainless coward. And Lily a – a you-know-what." Pausing for a moment, he then added, "And he said that Sirius was… was an idiot for leaving his life behind. That he was a coward who couldn't face his own family."

Professor McGonagall was silent for a long time. The fireplace flickered to life all of a sudden, giving the office much-needed light and warmth. Outside, the sounds of many students making their way towards the Great Hall for dinner could be heard, causing the office to appear not so empty.

"Very well," she said, in a voice very different from the one she had used before. "I shall talk to Professor Slughorn. Don't concern yourself anymore with this."

She leaned back in her chair, signalling that their little meeting was over. James stood up and was about to open the door, when he turned back.

"Do I still have to do my detentions?" asked James, rather childishly.

Professor McGonagall smiled. "Oh yes, I'm afraid so, Potter. Six o'clock tomorrow evening. Please don't be late."

Recognising a lost cause, James nodded, murmured good-bye to her, and left the office.

"Three days," said Lily angrily, ten minutes later in the Heads' common room. "Three bloody days. What in the world were you thinking?"

Regardless of what he might have said to Professor McGonagall, James was starting to regret punching Avery in the face. As he had trudged back up the stairs he had noticed the funny looks and whispers that came in his direction; he knew rumours and gossip spread quickly at Hogwarts, but he did not expect it to have reached the seventh floor when everyone else was still at dinner.

"Well, I wasn't thinking, see," began James. "I think that's the underlying cause of all my recent pro –"

"Don't start," said Lily, rubbing her fingers over her eyes. "Don't even start. Do you have any idea how serious this is?"

"Not really," said James, and it was true. Professor McGonagall, after all, had acted as though the matter was resolved, and she had certainly been on his side, even if things had gotten a bit out of hand during the beginning.

Lily stared at him. "You have no idea –?"

"I don't see what the big problem is," said James. "Avery and I both got detentions, we'll serve them, problem solved! It's not as big a deal as you make it out to –"

Lily snapped her fingers in front of his face, causing him to shake his head and blink at her.

"It IS a big deal!"

"Course it isn't, once the detentions are over everyone will just forget about it, won't they?" said James, annoyed.

"James, I don't know if it somehow slipped your mind, but you punched Avery in the face!"

The silence that followed was just as awkward as it had been between him and Professor McGonagall. James scratched the back of his head, trying to grin in spite of it all.

"Yeah, well… guess you can't leave that out," said James sheepishly.

"I can't believe you," muttered Lily. "You're not taking this seriously?"

"I told you, everyone will just forget what happened –"

"I'm not talking about everyone, I'm talking about you, James!"

She threw herself down on one of the armchairs and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. Her shoulders sagged as though she was exhausted.

"It always ends like this," said Lily angrily. "You and someone else in detention. Why can't you control your temper?"

"You think I want to be stuck with Professor McGonagall writing lines?" demanded James. "I'm the one who's in trouble, but you don't hear me complaining, do you?"

"That's because you don't care!" cried Lily despairingly. "You don't care what happens to yourself, you don't care how your actions affect others, you don't – bloody – care!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked James, firing up at once. "You're making it sound like something else happened, like somebody got – got seriously hurt, or –"

"What if something else had happened," said Lily in a shaky voice, her face set in a fierce scowl, "And you let go of your temper, and –"

"And Professor McGonagall stopped me, and so did everyone else!" countered James. "I'm sorry, but the way you're talking about it, you're making it sound like my temper's this horrible thing –"

Lily jumped up and got right in his face. "Your temper could get you killed someday, James!"

James opened his mouth furiously to retort, but something prevented him from shouting back.

"Funny," he said coldly. "Avery said something similar to me, right before I hit him."

"And it's true," fumed Lily, still in that livid expression. "If things were different, and we weren't at school –"

"But we are at school!" snapped James. "Things aren't different, and in the end Avery and I are both getting punished! What in Merlin's name are you trying to say here?"

They were nose to nose. Lily's eyes were red, and her bottom lip was trembling, and James suddenly realised that maybe she wasn't talking about his fight with Avery.

"Look," said James, trying to calm things down. "Let's just go to dinner, alright? Leave this all behind us –"

This, apparently, was the wrong thing to say, for Lily's cheeks turned bright red in anger.

"You're impossible," muttered Lily. "An incorrigible prat who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."

"And you're not making sense," said James, suddenly stung.

"You want me to make sense?" demanded Lily. "I'll spell it out for you: you're a GIT, James Potter."

And she stalked up the stairs to her room, leaving him with less of an appetite than he had felt in weeks.

Breakfast the next morning was an unusually quiet experience for James. He had not had much sleep, and had instead stayed in the common room where Lily last left him, staring at the Marauder's Map until well into the night, examining all the still dots that grouped by the hundreds. It was a good thing that he did not have patrol. He would have ditched otherwise.

What James didn't understand, however, was why the Slytherins kept avoiding him. The younger years huddled around in tight little groups and squeaked in fright when they saw him come up the stairs to the third floor, where Defence Against the Dark Arts was held. He didn't particularly mind, but he thought they were being a bit unfair. Fortuna Greengrass and Hermes Burke, at the very least, nodded to him in greeting as they queued up outside Professor Hedith's classroom.

Then the bell rang, and Hedith opened the door to let them in. Sirius pulled him to a desk at the very back of the classroom and waited for class to begin. He opened books and buried his head in his arms.

If James had been paying attention, he might have noticed that the class was slightly smaller than it usually was, with two out of the twenty students missing. Hedith spent the first five minutes of the lesson lecturing them about concealment charms when the door opened, cutting her speech.

James looked up and felt his stomach sink. Lily had just entered with Marlene, out of breath and their faces quite red.

Lily's hair was down and slightly messy. Her hair was never down, not in class. She said it interfered with her notetaking.

"Late!" said Professor Hedith reprovingly. "Well, don't just stand around, find your spots, we're going to have a little quiz on the Cave inimicum charm…"

The class groaned as Lily and Marlene hurried off to an empty table right at the very front of the class, as far away from James. This, if possible, made him feel even worse.

"I want nice, detailed answers!" called Professor Hedith, handing out parchment and a Quizlet. "This is bound to come up in your N.E.W.T, so please ensure that you be as clear as possible!"

But James could not gather his thoughts to form coherent answers, and so he turned in his unfinished quiz at the end of the period with the hopes that it had at least gotten him a passing grade. With another period left, however, Hedith set them all to practice undoing the effects of Cave inimicum on each other. James found this to be horribly difficult; he and Peter were the only ones told to practice the spell overnight.

"What's going on with you?" muttered Sirius to James as they left the classroom. "Lily's been avoiding you all morning. Did you have a row?"

"Something like that, yeah," said James glumly.

"Was it about yesterday? You know, if you'd explain things to –"

"I don't want to talk about it, all right?" James snapped. "Look, let's just go to the common room, I'm getting an aneurysm discussing this with you…"

The two free periods that followed were spent reviewing Cave inimicum. James decided that he much preferred Lily to Sirius when it came to homework; at least Lily would point out his faults and correct him. Sirius, on top of dodging quite flamboyantly, would insult his inability to aim and cast. James almost called her over to help him, but when he saw her leave with Remus to Ancient Runes halfway through the break, he bit his tongue from saying anything and continued to try and curse Sirius.

Next was lunch, which was just as subdued as breakfast, and after that was Potions. The dim light of the dungeons did nothing to lift his spirits, and neither did Professor Slughorn's many-chinned face or his walrus moustache.

"A bit of a special project today!" announced Professor Slughorn in a jovial voice. "Professor Sprout has requested we brew her a batch of Regermination Potions for her Fanged Geraniums, which are, unfortunately, on their last roots!"

Then he proceeded to pair them in groups of two. James prayed that he would not be partnered with Lily or, Merlin forbid, Snape, but he found that this was not the case: he and Sirius would be working together.

Relieved and slightly delirious that Merlin had answered his prayer, he spent the first ten minutes of the lesson fooling around with Sirius. He had not yet conquered the effects of Cave inimicum, and his efforts in reversing the spell (Sirius's cauldron did a very good job of not dodging) were, regrettably, noticed by Professor Slughorn.

"Potter and Black!" Professor Slughorn pulled in his great belly to squeeze between the desks, almost knocking Benjy Fenwick and Alice's cauldron over. "You're supposed to be working, boys! How far along is your Regermination Potion?"

James and Sirius eyed each other quickly.

"Er…"

"I thought so!" said Professor Slughorn, wagging his finger at James. "I suggest you start now, while there is still time for the potion to stew at the end of class."

Then he pointed at Sirius's near-invisible cauldron, said, "Finite incantatem!" and bustled off.

"Well, there you go, Prongs," said Sirius, examining his now visible cauldron closely. "If old Sluggy can do it, so can you."

"Piss off," said James irritably. "And Hedith doesn't want us using Finite incantatem anyways, so your joke doesn't work."

He poured alcohol and water into his cauldron; Sirius did the same. They continued to follow the instructions shown in their textbooks, but he found that, much like Defence Against the Dark Arts, he was not able to put his mind to it. At the end of class Sirius poured both their potions into a large phial, where they mixed and formed into a light brown substance, different from the golden colour as described in their textbook. James was assigned an essay on the use of Fanged Geraniums in Potions for this; Professor Slughorn had not been impressed with his potion.

"Well, come on, Prongs," said Remus, who was suddenly behind him. "I haven't got any energy left to pay attention in Binns's class, so you'll be the one taking notes, alright?"

James wished he had the energy to argue back.

History of Magic was, as usual, dull and boring, but something kept James from dropping the subject. His refusal to give up seemed to have affected Remus, for next to James, he was the only Gryffindor that cared about history. They spent the period revising the War of Five Goblin-kings, a bloody massacre that had ended with four of the five Goblin-kings dead, but was somehow turned into a droning lecture that focused more on the social and economic repercussions rather than the war itself. Binns then rounded off the lesson by giving them more homework than the number of dead goblins in the war.

Now panicking slightly about the amount of homework he had to do, James rescheduled Quidditch practice to Thursday to play it safe. He spent his time after school with Remus pouring over old books, and by the time the dinner bell sounded, his eyes burned from staring at white parchment all day. As James was starving, and he had his first detention with Professor McGonagall at six o'clock, he headed down with Remus.

"You know, Prongs," said Remus as they entered the Great Hall, "Lily seemed a bit… cut up, I guess. You're still not talking to her?"

"It's her that won't talk to me, I'd gladly welcome any form of conversation from her," said James, sitting down at the far end of the Gryffindor table, away from the rest of his friends. "If only I didn't have detention, I'd try and talk things out with her…" He sighed and tipped lamb chops on to his plate.

"You wouldn't be in detention if you hadn't hit Avery," said Remus shrewdly.

"Probably not, but I still would've hit him," said James through a mouthful of potato. "I hope McGonagall won't keep me for too long, I still haven't done those stupid essays from Slughorn and Binns."

Remus took a sip from his cup of orange juice. "Cheers."

At ten to six James bade Remus goodbye and set off for McGonagall's office on the first floor. He found the door already open and the room brightly lit, with the fireplace roaring with heat and the torches newly replaced. Professor McGonagall peered at him over her square spectacles.

"A bit early, Potter, but no matter. Sit down."

She indicated towards the very chair in front of her table that James had sat down in yesterday, as though it had been reserved especially for him. This would be inconvenient, he thought, for if he had to write lines, it would interfere with Professor McGonagall's work.

"What exactly am I going to be doing, Professor?" asked James, pulling the chair backwards and sitting down.

"You will be helping me," answered Professor McGonagall. "We are in a rather busy time of year, Potter, so you'll understand if I need extra hands..."

James waited for Professor McGonagall to elaborate, but she disappeared under her desk and emerged with an enormous stack of flowing parchment. It was so heavy it made an audible thunk when Professor McGonagall dropped it between them.

"...and as you can see, it is not a very pleasant sight," finished Professor McGonagall in an apologetic voice. "I'll admit I have been neglectful of my duties as a teacher, and as a result have been putting off my work for several weeks."

"I thought you said I was going to enjoy these detentions," said James reproachfully. "Maybe a private project, or helping you plan something. I didn't think it would be actual punishment."

"Would you like a project? If you do, I would be more than glad –"

"No, thank you, Professor," said James flatly.

"Then stop complaining. You'll find that these are O.W.L-level essays from the sixth year, so you should have a firm grasp on what they're talking about to correct them."

It was, as he suspected, useless, boring work. It could certainly have been worse; punching someone in the face tended to have greater repercussions than this. But James slogged through, looking up several times to ask Professor McGonagall whether or not an answer was correct. At ten o'clock the pile of parchment had become significantly shorter, and so she bade him goodnight with a request that he not be so early the following evening.

For the second detention, McGonagall kept him for even longer. This was most inconvenient; the amount of homework waiting for him up in the Head's Tower was not becoming smaller, and he was forced to revise until well after midnight. He wished he had someone to help him, but unfortunately, Lily was still not talking to him, and neither was Marlene, for that matter. He only had guesses as to how he'd pissed her off. James missed the both of them terribly, but Lily had made it clear that she was not at all impressed by his actions.

Wednesday came and went, adding more to his pile of homework, but at least his detentions with McGonagall were finished. It had not been a good day for James; he was one of the worst in Defence Against the Dark Arts, having not revised the spells and jinxes that Professor Hedith quizzed them on. He had to miss lunch to finish his Transfiguration essay, but there was no help for it; sacrifices had to be made if he wanted to stay on top of the subject. Lily was still avoiding him, but less so: she had sat down a few feet away from him during dinner (a vast improvement, if he said so himself), and had even asked him rather politely for the jug of orange juice that Remus seemed addicted to.

On Thursday it rained, preventing him from dragging Quidditch practice through the night. It felt exhilarating to be back in the open air, and to experience the feeling that he was unstoppable. Marlene was talking to him again, and for the first time in several days James laughed along with her; a sense of normalcy had returned to his life at last. As the sun set, and all became dark, James decided to call it a day and zoomed back to the ground.

It was his turn to clean up, so he lagged behind everybody and stayed in the changing room. He had just finished pushing the ball crate to its usual spot when Marlene entered. She was still in her Quidditch robes and looked hesitant but determined.

"Hey, James," said Marlene. "Can we talk for a moment?"

"Sure," said James, rolling his Quidditch robes into a tight bundle and stuffing them inside his locker. "What's up?"

"I want to hear the full story," said Marlene, crossing her arms. "What really happened with Avery?"

"What've you heard?" asked James suspiciously, grabbing a spare umbrella from a rack on the wall.

"Nothing, just that you socked him in the face." Marlene sniggered. "Usually, I'd say he deserved it, but since Lily's acting this way… you know."

"But he did deserve it," said James bluntly. "Come on, share with me…"

He opened the umbrella and trudged back to the castle with Marlene beside him. Along the way, he told her the full story – how Peter had somehow cursed Mulciber, how that led to him getting cornered and how James and Remus had tried to resolve the situation peacefully, but in the end he'd let Avery win…

"I thought Sirius would have filled you in on this," said James, as the downpour of rain drummed against their umbrella.

"Well, he did, but he was very vague," said Marlene. "Besides, I wanted to hear it from you. You don't usually use your fists."

"Will you stop reminding me…"

They entered the castle and James closed his umbrella. Marlene pulled out her wand and cast a drying charm over her and James, then used it to wipe their boots clean from mud.

James mock-saluted her. "If that's all, I'm going back to my dorm. See you at dinner."

"Hold it." Marlene tugged his sleeve to prevent him from marching off. "What're you going to do about Lily?"

"What about her?"

It was an honest question; he had no idea what her thoughts on him were at the moment, or why she felt giving him the cold shoulder was the best course of action. He missed her; of that he was certain, but what was he supposed to do? He felt like he was back in the beginning of his sixth year, stressing over every little detail and chasing after her to apologise for his previous actions.

"She's been in a right state," said Marlene, pulling him along with her down the Entrance Hall. "She doesn't show it, but she's worried about you."

"Worried about me?" asked James incredulously. "Why would she be worried about me?"

"Because, Jamie-poo," said Marlene, "she's just that type of person, you know? How would you feel if you heard she got into a fight?"

James thought for a moment.

"I guess I'd be worried," he relented. "But I'd know that she'd be all right. She can take care of herself."

"So why did you punch Avery in the face?"

"Because, Marly," said James, mimicking her voice, "he was having a go at everyone, not just her. Someone needed to shut him up."

They reached the marble steps and climbed up. Marlene appeared to be in deep thought, for when James glanced at her she was frowning at the ground.

"She told me you had an argument right after your little incident," said Marlene. "Care to tell me how it went?"

"Not very well," said James glumly, and he told her. The blow-by-blow took seven floors to finish, by which time they'd reached the corridor of the Fat Lady.

"... and she starts waxing poetic about what-ifs and imaginary scenarios, right, and then she gets all up in my face and goes, 'You're a git, James Potter,' and storms off." He swung his umbrella over his shoulder and looked at Marlene. "Don't tell me you've got an explanation for that."

Marlene was frowning at him.

"Either you're not as smart as I thought you were, or you just don't know Lily all that well after all," she said harshly. "And after years of hearing you fuss over every little thing she said about you, I know for a fact it's not the latter."

"Now you're not making sense," said James, shaking his head. "I get that she was worried about me, but honestly, with the way she was talking, you'd think someone got murdered."

"Then you did know what she was talking about," said Marlene. "James, you prat, you should've talked things through with her –"

"But that's completely unfair!" said James. "We're still at school, aren't we, there's no reason she should be thinking that far ahead –"

"She's spent her entire life at Hogwarts thinking ahead," said Marlene. "Lily's just… she just does. And every time someone stands up for her it's like a reality check, that she's got to rely on others for help, and she can't stand that you or me or any of our friends might be risking our lives to help her."

"I know that," said James, scowling. "I just wish she'd take it easy for once. I'm the one who's in trouble, after all."

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"And so we part," said Marlene, turning to him. "I hope you know what you're going to do."

"Yeah, yeah," said James darkly. "Apologise and accept. As always."

Marlene smiled and elbowed him playfully.

"You deserve each other," she said. "I don't think you know how much she likes you, James. She's stubborn about admitting it." She sighed. "I wish Sirius was a bit more like you."

"That's a really weird thing to say, Marly."

Sniggering, James waved at her and marched towards the Head's Tower. It was still a half-hour before dinner; perhaps he could take a quick shower. Lily was probably in the girls' dormitory with Alice and, now, Marlene, seeing as she took to avoiding him as much as possible, so his apology and acceptance would have to wait.

"Neverland," James said to the painting of the two wizards, who bowed and swung forwards.

He stepped through and placed his umbrella on the floor next to the painting. He yawned and stretched his neck.

She's stubborn, he thought begrudgingly, a stiff, stubborn bird, but I wouldn't have her any other –

"Lily?"

He had walked past the stretch of wall separating the hall from the common room, turned around and found Lily sitting on the couch, a stack of scrolls placed haphazardly on the table. When she heard him she gave a great leap of surprise and sent her various scrolls flying around.

"Er… hello," said Lily tightly. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. What're those?"

James indicated towards the scrolls she was reading. Lily glanced at them, as though surprised they were there at all.

"Er – nothing, really. Just new timetables Professor McGonagall sent me. Easter break is coming soon, so they want me – I mean, us – to revise over these to see if there's anything, er – out of the ordinary."

"But what have they got planned?" asked James curiously. "I thought we only had N.E. left."

"Er – no," said Lily. "We still have career advice with our Head of House, and the Provisional License exam."

"Well, let me help," said James brightly, relieved that she was talking to him again. "Make some room for me."

She scooted a bit over to the side and let him sit down. James grabbed a handful of furled scrolls and skimmed over them, trying to appear as though he was fully absorbed in the activity, but in reality was watching Lily carefully. He found himself replaying his conversation with Marlene.

After a few minutes she drew a sharp breath, looked up at him and said, "Alright, what are you really here for?"

It took a moment for James to answer. He marked down the scroll he was on and rolled it up.

"We need to talk," said James. "We've been avoiding each other for long enough, don't you think?"

He expected Lily to argue, but instead she sighed.

"Yes," agreed Lily. "Yes, I suppose we have."

She pulled her legs up to her chin and hugged them tightly. James took this as a sign to continue, and before he knew it, the words were spilling out of his mouth like rain from a cup.

"Listen, Lils – I get how you're feeling. I really do. You're upset and angry, and you're right to feel that way. But Marlene reminded me… how you could be feeling. And… I guess, with so many things happening at once, I forgot…"

"You and Marlene talked about me?" said Lily, sounding outraged.

"Please don't get mad at her," James implored her. "She was trying to help. And what I'm trying to say, right now – I'm really sorry. It's just… seeing Avery and the others, it reminded me of myself, and I couldn't help but let things get personal…" He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for getting mad, Lils. I never should've yelled."

"But you're not sorry about hitting Avery."

Lily's voice was low with disappointment, but when James looked her in the eye, she seemed as though she had accepted it, resolved to live with it. She did not expect him to be sorry.

"You've got to understand," said James carefully. "If someone – anyone, not just Avery – talks rubbish about you, or any of our friends, you can't expect me to let them go on. And it wasn't just his comment about you that made me hit him."

Lily looked resolutely at her lap.

"I don't like being reminded how stupid this place can get," she murmured. "It's necessary to be reminded. I know that. But the fact that it's real, that there are people who think that way about me, and other Muggleborns…"

"There are good people, too," said James. "People who're willing to risk their lives to help someone out, people who scoff at the whole idea of a superior race…"

Lily gave a slight smile.

"Things are going to get rough once we get out of here," said James. "But that doesn't mean everyone's going to either hate or love you. Forget everyone. We're a team, you and I. You mean the world to me, you know."

"I know," said Lily quietly. "And I wanted to apologise, too. I wasn't making any sense back then. I just heard that you got in a fight, and –"

"You've got nothing to apologise for," said James. "I guess… I sort of understand what you were trying to say. Or at least some parts of it."

"We're graduating in a few months," said Lily, sounding close to tears. "We'll be off to live on our own, without anyone to stop us or protect us. I couldn't bear it if – if you or anyone else got hurt because of something stupid…"

James reached out and grasped her hands. He was surprised at how cold they were.

"We're still at school," said James softly. "I know I do some right stupid things sometimes, but I know where to draw the line, Lils. Please understand that."

She sniffed, then gave a sort of watery chuckle. James felt her squeeze his hands tightly, as though pleading him for something, but he didn't try to understand. He doubted whether he could ever understand her…

"We're all right, aren't we?" said Lily.

"Yeah, we're all right," said James. "If nothing else, you're fun to argue with."

They stayed that way for just a little while longer, enjoying the peace and privacy that came with being James Potter and Lily Evans, and moved only when the dinner bell sounded. For the first time in several days, James allowed himself to look at her again, and he swore to himself that he would never forget how she made him feel as though everything would be all right.