6-14-18: Minor edits.

Chapter 20: Questions and Boundaries

James opened his eyes, squinting at the bright surroundings. Where was he? He twisted finding the sheets tucked around him more tightly than usual. As his eyes focused, James remembered.

He'd been admitted to the Hospital Wing for fainting. No, he thought to himself, for collapsing; best not to use the other word ever. James had his fair share of stays at the Hospital Wing for real injuries from Quidditch or a scuffle with other students in the hallway. He didn't even have a good reason for collapsing. He was feeling great one moment and then the next the world had gone black. James had regained consciousness soon after, but he'd still been whisked away to the Hospital Wing.

His teammates, as well as Peter and Remus, had followed him to the Infirmary, only to be dismissed quickly for rowdiness. Then Madam Pomfrey insisted he be monitored overnight, and James argued against it up until the moment Professor Keenan burst in with an injured student.

The injured student turned out to be Sirius. James watched helpless as his best friend was transferred from the stretcher to the bed. Sirius was barely responsive, his pallor white as a sheet. From his own bed, it was hard to see the extent of Sirius's injury.

The adults stayed tight lipped about Sirius's condition. The nurse even cast a Silencing Charm in addition to closing the curtains around Sirius's bed, so it was impossible for James to eavesdrop. Annoyed he was being kept in the dark, James had bombarded Madam Pomfrey and Professor Keenan with questions when they finally emerged. They answered his concerns with very little detail, though James managed to learn several things.

Sirius had been ambushed by Slytherins.

Sirius was badly injured, but stable.

Sirius had been given a Dreamless Sleeping Draught to get him through the night.

James grew restless as dusk fell. His thoughts turned angry as the moon peaked in and out of the rolling clouds. His thoughts wandered; and he wondered if it was a coincidence he'd been attacked the same week as Sirius. An out in the open ambush was certainly very different than the behind the back hexing that had plagued James. It could suggest two different groups of people, but it was not necessarily the case.

As everyone else, Madam Pomfrey at first thought James's collapse at the end of game had been caused by a hex. After no trace of any magic was found on him, Madam Pomfrey had theorized that it had been a delayed reaction to the first Confundus Charm; uncommon, but not unheard off. These types of reactions were more common in older witches and wizards and those who were sick – those with weak constitutions. James decided he would hex anyone who made the slightest suggestion that he was weak or feeble.

It wasn't until after dinner that the news of Sirius's injury reached Remus and Peter. James was still picking at his food with Madam Pomfrey hovering nearby when his friends arrived. They brought with them well wishes from Gryffindor House and several Quidditch magazines for reading entertainment. Unfortunately within ten minutes of their arrival, four shaking, purple first years staggered into the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey, looking rather harried and stressed, ordered the first years to lie down on the four empty beds that separated James from Sirius. She then looked at his friends and announced there would be no visiting hours until tomorrow afternoon and pushed Remus and Peter out the door without ceremony.

So despite a crowded Hospital Wing, James spent a lonely evening browsing through the Quidditch magazines and thinking of ways to 'get back' at the Slytherins who had attacked Sirius. If it was the same group who had Confunded James, all the better. Madam Pomfrey spent her night flitting between the first years (who were still purple and had now developed terrible hacking coughs) and Sirius. At one point while the nurse disappeared into her cupboards, James snuck out of bed to check on his friend. He found Sirius asleep, though clearly not in a restful state. He watched Sirius jerk about with sweat beading on his forehead, hands clenching the white sheets. James could do nothing, but crawl back into his own bed, his heart now laden with worry. James had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason he'd drifted off to sleep that evening was with the aide of one of the potions Madam Pomfrey had forced down his throat.

It was morning now and the sun shone brightly; James was feeling surprisingly rested. He pushed himself to a seated position loosening the tight covers, feeling a twinge in his right wrist. He'd sprained it yesterday when he'd fallen, but it was one of those injuries that healed better without magic. It was then he heard two voices – adult voices. In actuality James shouldn't have been able to hear anyone. The curtains in the Hospital Wing were charmed to keep out the noise, but the Marauders had figured out how to undo that spell back in second year.

Now that James was carefully listening, he recognized the voices as those of Madam Pomfrey (no surprise there) and Professor Slughorn.

"Poppy, I wanted to check on my first years. I need to owl their parents. How are they this morning?"

"They'll live. Last night was most unpleasant for them, but a good learning experience. I don't know what they were thinking. First years brewing a potion as complicated as that and then arrogant enough to believe they had brewed it correctly."

"And Mr. Black. How is he?" Professor Slughorn asked his voice suddenly different, more apprehensive.

"He'll live too." There was a pause. "I do wish I knew the curse that hit him. I can guess the nature, but it would help with the healing."

Slughorn coughed. "Yes, well, the castor has come forward."

"Has he? Well why didn't someone come to immediately tell me this new information?"

"She, actually. Miss Greengrass. The girl was very upset and clearly remorseful. She has been in my House for seven years and she has never been caught up in something such as this. In fact, I almost recommended her for Head Girl this year."

"It was a nasty curse. It was meant to maim or kill. The reason it did neither was luck. If she'd hit a major artery or if Professor Keenan had not intervened when he did…"

Slughorn appeared to not want to hear the potentially dire consequences of the curse because he suddenly stated, "Miss Greengrass assured me it was not Dark Magic."

"Horace, we both know that magic does not have to be dark to be dangerous." There was a long pause and James wanted to part the curtains to see why they had stopped speaking. A moment later Madam Pomfrey voiced, "So do you have the name of the curse?"

There was a rustling of paper and Professor Slughorn said something quietly that James could not make out.

"Where did she come across this book? Surely not in the library?"

"No, this is from my personal collection." Slughorn was speaking very carefully. He had clearly come to the conclusion that he was partly culpable for one of his students having knowledge of such a curse. "Students occasionally borrow books from there… purely for academic purposes, of course. Perhaps I should have kept better track of the books being borrowed…but Miss Greengrass has accumulated very few detentions and all for tardiness. She's never even been reprimanded for using magic outside of class."

James knew who Greengrass was. Hogwarts was small enough that every student was at least vaguely familiar. She had a heart shaped face and long blonde hair that she always wore down. Slughorn wasn't wrong in his assessment of her. Greengrass had kept to the sidelines. She'd never been part of the Slytherin group that had harassed them over the years.

"Times are different now. The war brewing out there has infected the halls of Hogwarts."

"These are students – still in childhood or barely out of it. They are not Death Eaters."

"They may not be, but it cannot be ignored that their actions are motivated by the same principles. House rivalries used to be the dominating reason for fights breaking out between students, but no longer. I have treated too many Muggleborns with serious injuries this year. It has to stop. The hallways need to be safe for all students. It must be made clear this behavior will no longer be tolerated. Not just by the staff, but you as well. Especially you. I might not agree with the way you've handled this all, but you have the respect of the purebloods in your House. They will listen to you."

Slughorn made a 'humph' noise and then excused himself out the door with instructions for Madam Pomfrey to alert him if any of the first years conditions changed.

Suddenly the curtains around his bed were jerked open.

"How long have you been awake, Potter?"

"Not long," James lied.

Madam Pomfrey did not seem to suspect he had heard her conversation with Professor Slughorn, and James decided there was no point in telling her he had. She certainly wouldn't willing give him more information than knowledge he had overheard.

"Let's have a look at you." Madam Pomfrey did a series of health checks – that included taking his pulse, temperature, and having his eyes follow her lit wand. "Physically there is nothing wrong. How do you feel?"

"Rested. Great."

"And before the game yesterday, how did you feel?" Madam Pomfrey pressed.

"Fine. I didn't feel as if I was going to collapse midway through the game if that's what you are asking."

"Hmm, well it would be better if you had been feeling off. There's no way for me to tell if you will feel ill again, but there's also no reason to keep you here."

"I'm being discharged?"

"Breakfast first though. I want you to take it easy the next week. Keep the stress at bay - I know OWLs are looming, but just do your best. No need to worry."

James gave the nurse an affronted look. He wasn't a worrier, and he didn't stress out about exams – even exams as important as OWLs. Sure he thought about them from time to time, and he probably should be revising more often than he was. Still he expected to get enough OWLs to qualify for any class he desired to enroll in next year.

"And before I forget, no Quidditch for seven days. And if I hear you've even touched a broomstick, I'll lock up that Nimbus myself."

James had expected this restriction. Luckily the next game, which was two weeks away, was between Slytherin and Hufflepuff, so a weeks' rest wouldn't do the team any harm. Instead of trying to bargain a shorter rest period, he decided to press for information on his best friend. "And Sirius?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed. She'd been waiting for him to ask. "It will be several days before he can be discharged."

"How is he though?"

"The wound is very deep. There's tissue and muscle damage." She began very businesslike, but she must have seen the worry etched in his face because her voice softened. "It all can be healed. It will take time. The healing will be grueling for him and me. We will both need breaks. The healing will take place over several sessions. I won't know until I start the process. Professor Keenan will be present. He's quite knowledgeable about curse wounds."

"Can I see him before I leave?"

"He's asleep. I don't want him woken up until it is time to start the healing. Lupin, Pettigrew, and you can visit around 4 pm this afternoon. No one else will be allowed, and it is to be kept short, no more than 30 minutes."

James nodded. Madam Pomfrey laid hand on shoulder, squeezing it briefly, reassuringly.

"I'll alert the houselves to send you up a tray of food. I don't think the first years will be up to eating yet, so it will just be you."

James stood in front of the Gryffindor Common Room glaring at the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"I can't let you in without the password," Fat Lady stated regally. She shifted her large skirts, sat down, and preceded to fan herself. He remembered back in first year the Fat Lady had actually taken a liking to them. She'd been especially charmedby Sirius. It had all vanished in the beginning of their second after their repetitive sneaking in and out after curfew. And now he was certain that she was enjoying denying him entrance in particular.

"I was in the Hospital Wing! I don't know the new password!" James stated for the third time, his patience wearing. After Madam Pomfrey had discharged him, he had headed straight here and had not encountered a single Gryffindor. Perhaps he should have detoured to McGonagall's office to ask her the new password, but it was too late now.

"I don't care if you had a meeting with the Minister of Magic! No password; no admittance."

James crossed his arms. He had to figure out a way to convince her. Leaving now to seek out a fellow housemate would be giving up.

"Potter."

James started, startled by the voice. He turned to see Lily Evans on her own, arms crossed, green eyes narrowed suspiciously. She was wearing Muggle clothes and had pinned her Prefect badge to her sweater.

"I – er- she's not letting me in," he said unnecessarily. He felt a slight warmth heat his face and he was glad for the shadows of the hallway.

"That's her job," Lily stated sternly, but without any real venom in her voice. "Dragon's breath."

"Thank you," the Fat Lady said primly, the portrait swung back to admit them.

James followed Lily into the empty Common Room. They were alone. He was suddenly struck with the realization of how rarely that happened. He was either with his friends or she was with hers. Even for a boy that touted bravery, it was daunting task to approach Lily while her friends twittered about. It was difficult to be witty with their teasing looks and knowing glances.

As James's mind raced as a way to start a clever conversation, his eyes traveled around the room. The remnants of the Quidditch celebration he'd missed last night were evident. There were banners still tacked to the walls, though some now hung haphazardly, and decks of cards left unattended on several of the round tables. One of the card decks was still smoldering slightly.

"Evans!" Lily was now only several feet from the dormitory staircase, and calling out her name seemed the best way to stop her progression.

"Can I help you with something, Potter?" She turned toward him, arching an eyebrow.

"Aren't you going to ask how I am feeling?" James asked as an opening.

"Clearly you've made a full recovery." Lily tilted her head, studying him. Perhaps sensing her rudeness was uncalled for she added, "Everyone is saying you were hexed on the pitch."

"I wasn't," James stated quickly. Lily suddenly brushed passed him and he watched as she picked up a forgotten red and yellow scarf. He was mesmerized by her movements. She folded the scarf and placed it on one of the tables, suddenly looking up to meet his gaze. James cleared his throat, hoping she hadn't seen him staring. "Well not on the pitch. I was Confounded earlier in the week though."

"Yes, I heard," Lily answered curtly. They both realized at the same time that he now stood in the path between her and the stairs.

"Probably by someone in Slytherin." James looked right at Lily as he said those words. By the expression he received back he knew she heard his implication that it had been Snape, her Slytherin friend.

"Or anyone in Ravenclaw. You were playing them not Slytherin," Lily interjected mildly.

James waved her words away. "There's no reason. Ravenclaw has no chance at the Cup. First they lost against Slytherin – the score of that game was average. Then they won the game against Hufflepuff, but their Seeker caught the Snitch early, so they made up no ground there on points. And now they've lost to us-" He stopped midsentence, realizing he'd been rambling.

"The point is you didn't see who hexed you," Lily replied.

"Didn't see who Confounded me," James corrected. "I wasn't hexed."

"Why does that matter?" Lily asked exasperatedly, she swept a wisp of red hair out of her eye.

"I'd brush up on the differences of hexes and charms if I were you, Evans. That's bound to be on the OWLs."

"I know the difference," Lily shot back sharply. She was the top of their class in Charms.

James grinned. "Only teasing, Evans."

Lily opened up her mouth to retort, but she held in whatever else she was going to say. Instead she waved her wand and a deck of cards from a forgotten game from last night, sailed neatly into one of the empty boxes.

"Did you have fun at the game?" James asked swiftly changing topics, hoping to keep the conversation flowing. "It was exciting, right?"

"Ravenclaw put up a good fight, a better fight than one might think of a team that has no chance at the Cup," Lily said coolly.

"I didn't say Ravenclaw isn't a good team. There's more to just catching the Snitch though. There's strategy involved too."

Lily made a noncommittal noise.

"Everyone on the team played their best," James continued. "Don't you agree?" James was still hopeful she'd give him some hint that she'd been impressed by what she'd seen. That she'd noticed his flying in particular. He wasn't a big enough of a prat to ask her out right though.

"Fishing for compliments?" Lily asked raising both eyebrows.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, James said briskly, "No, I- I was just curious what you thought."

Lily didn't answer right away. She appeared to be searching for the right words. "I don't think you want to hear what I have to say."

James curiosity only increased. "I can take it. Say what you will."

Lily sighed. "I think you're a showoff when you fly."

James frowned. "A showoff?" His head leaped to his hair without him noticing and this only caused Evans to roll her eyes.

"Take for example that spinning dive thing you did. Was that really necessary?"

"Spelting's Spiral?" James queried.

"Spelting's what?"

"That move I did. It's called Spelting's Spiral. And it was necessary; I was trying to get Ness and Bliss off my tail!"

"If you say so. I don't follow Quidditch that closely."

"Clearly."

Lily put her hands on her hips. "I don't see the other players doing such theatrics in the air!"

"Because they probably can't." The words leapt out of his mouth before he could stop it. She threw him a long withering look, so he hastily added, "To be fair, I wouldn't have tried that move on my old Cleansweep."

"Oh, right. You've got that Nimbus," Lily said contemptuously.

"Yes, so?" James knew he had bragged about his new broom earlier in the year, but he was pleased Lily had remembered the model.

"Not all players can afford a new broom each year."

"I haven't gotten a new broom every year. And a new broom can't make up for talent. The newer models are actually more difficult to maneuver for a novice player than the studier, older models."

"Doesn't the Nimbus go faster than the Cleansweep? How isn't that an advantage?"

James shrugged. "Ok in terms of speed there is an advantage – but speed alone won't win you the Quidditch Game. This gigantic advantage you are imagining doesn't exist."

Lily advanced forward making headway to the safety of her dormitory.

"It sounds as if you want Gryffindor to lose," James muttered as she moved passed him

Lily flung her hands up in the air. "Of course I want us to win. It's just - I'd like it if we had a chance to win the House Cup as well as the Quidditch Cup. Though that's impossible when certain members of our House strive to lose points and accumulate as many detentions as possible." She gave James a pointed look.

James scoffed. "Everyone knows the Quidditch Cup is what's important. Only Professors and Prefects care about the House Cup." The distain in his voice for Prefects could not be missed.

Lily flushed, unconsciously touching the Prefect badge pinned neatly to her robe. "Do you talk about Prefects like this in front of Lupin?" she demanded.

"Remus has his priorities in order."

She threw him another disapproving look, turned her heel, and flounced up the stairs. James groaned as he stared in her wake. As usual his attempts to woo her had failed. Though really how could she expect him to stay polite when she was disparaging Quidditch? Any other Gryffindor would have congratulated him. He had flown excellently yesterday. He had been an integral part in Gryffindor's win. What was her problem?

He flopped down on one of the couches. His eyes caught one of the banners where two stick figures on broomsticks were feebly jerking about – the enchantment having almost run its course. His solitude did not last long, and as if fate wanted to prove his thought of earlier, a stream of Gryffindors began entering, each and every one with praise of his performance, congratulations on the win, or concern about his wellbeing. Even Aidan Gallagher was surprisingly more concerned about his current health than if he was cleared for Quidditch practice.

A small crowd began to form around him. He didn't mind the attention, though he did wonder where Peter and Remus were. He was relieved when he finally saw them enter the room. He stood up hastily, extracting himself from the group.

Remus and Peter waited for him to join them by the stairs

"We went to the Hospital Wing after breakfast," Peter explained looking slightly pink in the face. "Madam Pomfrey said she released you, and then we couldn't even see Sirius!"

"He's really hurt, isn't he?" Remus asked, placing his hands in his pockets, solemnly.

James indicated with his head for them to follow him up. He didn't want to speak about it in the crowded common room. He closed the door behind them, waited until his friends were seated, and proceeded to tell them everything he knew.

Author's note: I hoped you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.