Chapter 12

The heaviness that I hold in my heart's been crushing me

The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity,

The heaviness that I hold in my heart's been crushing me.

I've been worried all my life,

A nervous wreck most of the time.

Pluto, Sleeping at Last

James woke up in a good mood. The morning's routine progressed like normal, which James noted with satisfaction. The Marauders made their way down to breakfast, laughing like they always were. Peter was after putting his jumper on backwards, and his grumbling about it was, like most grumbling, quite funny.

James's leg had gotten worse from yesterday, and despite not telling the others, he knew they knew. It was obvious, if you were looking, in the way that he gripped the stair banisters tightly and used their shoulders as crutches. James didn't bring it up though, so neither did the others. James sighed in relief when they sat down at the usual spot for breakfast, glad to alleviate the weight from his right leg.

He dug into his breakfast with enthusiasm, eager to ignore his leg and capitalise on his good mood. Sirius was telling him the story of sneaking down to Hogsmeade the night before, and how they had somehow ended up in an argument with hag about the best Quidditch team, and the story didn't make much sense, but it had James in stitches, so he didn't really care.

James was still wiping tears from his eyes when the morning post arrived. He got a letter from his mother, which he tore open, wanting to hear good news. The first paragraph in the letter described that Fleamont was doing much better, which made him smile.

That smile quickly disappeared as James continued to read the letter.

That's all the good news I'm afraid dear. the letter continued, I'm really sorry to tell you this, but the little girl's father, the one who you saved, he passed away last night at St. Mungo's. I really am sorry.

James stared at the letter in shock. Sally's dad had died, despite all that he had done. He had still died.

"Prongs, mate. Are you alright?" Sirius asked him, reaching over the table to place a hand on his arm.

"Eighteen dead," James said faintly, throat constricting.

"Sorry?" Remus asked.

"Eighteen dead," James repeated, slightly louder.

From next to Sirius, Peter reached over and grabbed the letter, scanning it quickly. His face fell into a frown, and he showed it to Sirius. Sirius read it quickly, and glanced back at James. "I'm so sorry mate." James nodded, not paying much attention.

"Is there anything we can do?" Remus asked, his hand now on James's shoulder while Sirius clutched at the letter.

James shook his head. "I think I'm going to go for a walk."

"Bring your cane," Sirius replied quietly. James hesitated. "Bring your cane and the map," Sirius amended.

"Are you sure you don't want any more breakfast?" Peter asked, concerned.

"I feel a bit nauseated," James admitted. "A walk will do me good." Seeing Sirius about to talk James added "and yes, I'll bring my cane."

"The map is in Pete's trunk I think," Remus said as James rose unsteadily from the bench. "You sure you'll be okay?"

"Yeah," James smiled weakly. "I'll see you guys in Transfig, okay?"

"Yeah," Remus replied sadly.

James limped off down the hall, eyes forward, making sure to catch no one's eyes. Climbing back up the stairs were torture on his leg, but he motivated himself by reminding himself what was waiting at the top- his cane. Still, he almost cried with relief when he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Once in his dorm, he grabbed his cane and the map from Peter's trunk, using the map to avoid anyone. Luckily, the Common Room was empty, most Gryffindor students either at breakfast at this point, or lazing it out in bed.

Getting down to the front door proved a challenge, but one James was happy to participate in. The map helped him easily dodge people, which led him outside without an incident. It was a cold enough morning, and it was early enough that there were no students by the lake.

James shoved the map into his cloak pocket and leaned heavily on his cane, allowing himself to finally think of the letter his mother had sent him. The man had died, despite James's best attempt; it hadn't been enough. James tried his best to keep his face from crumpling, but it was no use. He didn't cry as often as he probably should, usually able to hold the tears in and gulp them down. But now, alone and standing between the Great Lake and the Forbidden Forest, they fell freely from his eyes.

In some ways it was a relief to get them out. These things had a habit of building up in your chest, and it was cathartic to finally let them out. He cried, not just for the man, but for Sally, and other family she may have, and Sirius, who had been kicked out of his house, and Remus who was dealing with his own issues, and everyone who was at Diagon Alley that day, who had suffered and had to pretend like nothing had happened, because the Ministry didn't know what the hell they were doing. James felt like screaming. He contented himself with a quiet whine of frustration, and continued his walk around the lake.

His movements were slow and stiff, but James had always like a walk to clear his head. His first preference, ideally, would've been Quidditch, but since that was out of the question, walking was second choice. Using his cane was a relief, since it took a lot of weight off his bad leg. James wished he was courageous enough to stride into class with his cane, but the thought of his classmates' questions had him panicking. James laughed at himself; a Gryffindor, lacking bravery. But this was a different type of fear, it pushed down on his chest whenever he thought of that day at Diagon Alley, burrowing itself beneath his ribs, sitting on his lungs. James took a deep breath and forced himself to think of other things.

As he neared the school again, James wiped at his eyes beneath his glasses and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to seem more collected. He had a suspicion his eyes were rimmed red and the tip of his nose was matching in colour. He could get away with blaming the cold weather for his red nose, and hoped his glasses would cover up some of the rawness of his eyes.

James pulled out the map once again, using it to make his way up to the Gryffindor tower without attracting attention. He wondered what was waiting for him when he would reach the Common Room. Would it be empty? Or would there be people there to see his cane? He gave the Fat Lady the password, and almost cried with relief to see the Common Room deserted. He hadn't had the best luck so far, so it seemed only fair that he would be granted a few small miracles. James laughed at that.

He almost ran up the stairs to his dorm; if it weren't for his leg, he probably would've. He grabbed his schoolbag from where it sat next to his bed, swung one strap over his shoulder, left his cane on his bed and went back down the stairs, holding onto the stair rail tightly. He made his way slowly to Transfiguration, careful not to aggravate his leg even further. He slid into his seat just before Professor McGonagall swept into the classroom.

Lily watched as James Potter entered into the Transfiguration classroom mere seconds before McGonagall. He seemed to be dishevelled, even more so than usual, and the Marauders were very happy to see him. It was these three things that had Lily concerned. Usually when one of the Marauders came into class almost late and messy, it meant trouble.

James sat down in his seat in front of Lily, and dropped his bag on the floor beneath the table. There was a lot of whispering from the other three, which raised Lily's suspicions more, but James just waved away their questions. A few minutes later, when Professor McGonagall set them about mastering a spell, the whispers began up again.

"Have you been crying?" Peter asked incredulously.

"A little louder Peter," James replied, glancing around the classroom. "I don't think the entire class heard you."

"But have you?" Peter repeated, quieter this time.

Lily tried to lean forward without attracting attention to herself. "I don't want to talk about it," was all James mumbled.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Remus asked, attempting the spell.

"Yes. No. I don't know," James said, following suit. There was a moment's break from the whispering as the Marauders all tried the spell McGonagall had been teaching them. "It upset me a lot," James admitted after a bit.

"Anything we can do?" Sirius asked, making sure not to look at James as he said it, so that McGonagall wouldn't suspect they were talking.

"I don't think so. I went on a walk around the lake to clear my head, but there's nothing much else I can do."

"Alright."

With that, no more was said about it. Lily sat back in her seat, frowning. She hadn't noticed that James had been crying, and she had no idea what he could've been crying about. Without context, the Marauders' conversation hadn't made much sense. She shook the thoughts from her head, and went about concentrating on the spell.

James's concentration was shot. Usually Transfiguration was his best subject, but he hadn't been paying attention when McGonagall had been explaining the spell. He continued the class in silence, both his eyes and mind wandering. When the class ended, James packed up his stuff and hauled himself to his feet. He was about to follow the Marauders out when Professor McGonagall called him back.

Minerva McGonagall studied the boy in front of her. His hair was a state, which wasn't unusual, his shoulders were slumped forward and, for the most part, his glasses disguised the ring of red around his eyes. McGonagall had become worried when James had spent the entire class distracted, and she had noticed the concerned glances his friends were shooting him.

"Are you okay James?" she asked after a moment, despite knowing that he wasn't.

James lifted his shoulders in a shrug, eyes glued to the floor in front of his feet. McGonagall didn't say anything, still studying him. After a while, James opened his mouth as if to say something, before closing it again. Professor McGonagall waited patiently.

"I got a letter from my mother this morning," he admitted after a while.

Instantly McGonagall's mind jumped to the worst conclusion. "Are your family okay?"

James waved his hand dismissively, and McGonagall sighed in relief. "When I was in Diagon Alley," James began, as if the words were physically hurting him, "there was this young girl and her father. Two Death Eaters were floating them along in the air and laughing, so I went to help them." James paused to gather his words. "They dropped the man and the girl." McGonagall's mouth opened slightly, and she felt quite nauseated. But James wasn't done. "I caught the girl, but her father landed on the ground. The sound-" James stopped talking for a moment, pressing a shaking hand to his mouth and looking as though he was about to throw up, before collecting himself. "After the fight, we got the man to the hospital. My mom wrote to tell me that he passed away in care last night."

Professor McGonagall hesitated for a moment, before bringing a hand up to rest on James's shoulder. "I'm sorry. But you have to remember that despite the upsetting outcome, what you did was very brave. It's always frustrating when you try your hardest and you do your best and it still doesn't work out for you, and I want you to know that you did all you can."

"Thank you Professor," James said, finally looking at McGonagall.

McGonagall offered him a small smile, before turning and sorting through the papers on her table. She heard James leave.