A Christmas Cut Short
Almost as soon as James and Sirius got back from the apothecary, they asked James' parents if they could stop by Diagon Alley to search for some extra potion ingredients. Although surprised to hear that they had run out of supplies already, James' mother agreed to take the boys on an afternoon trip before Christmas. After only a few days to mull over the disappearance of Mundungus Fletcher, James and Sirius traveled via Floo powder to the Leaky Cauldron, soon entering Diagon Alley behind the brick wall next to the pub.
"Do you need me to find you anything in particular?" James' mother inquired of the two boys, still catching her breath from the uncomfortable experience of inter-fireplace transportation. "I could find an ingredient while you two—"
"No, you can wait for us outside," James interrupted, trying to think of a way to lose her. "If you wanted to stop by The Teabag, you can grab a cup while Sirius and I run about."
"If you're sure, dear," his mother answered, although she breathed easier at the mention of rest. Winded, she looked through the nearest shop's window and brightened, spotting a wiry little witch who waved frenetically from inside. "Why, it's Gillian! I'll have to stop and say hello!"
Striding off, she left the two boys to trot off in the other direction, passing the closely-packed stores that progressed down the street. James glanced over his shoulder and watched his mother vanish into the interior of the tea shop before hurrying ahead with Sirius. Continuing, they waited to turn until spotting a sign above a sharp corner reading, "Knockturn Alley."
Pattering down the alleyway, James and Sirius slowed to accommodate for the darker, more enclosed street, even though they no longer had any shoppers to press past. Staring up at the storefronts around them, they ducked down to avoid the sharp tiles hanging from the roofs, which looked as if they might fall and crush the street below. Feeling claustrophobic, James lowered his gaze and peered into the window of the nearest shop, but he soon regretted his decision as a pair of oversized, luminous eyes stared back at him.
"Heh," Sirius chuckled as he spotted the cause of James' sudden jump. "My family would love it here. We've got house-elf heads tacked all over our walls."
Walking on, Sirius left James feeling rather foolish, and he rushed to catch up to his friend after glancing once more at the mounted head. Determined to regain some of his dignity, James took the lead and stared down every adjoining street that they passed. Some of the shop windows were boarded up or too blackened with grime to see through, but most of the stores offered a clear glimpse of their questionable merchandise, which ranged from small animal bones to rocking chairs that moved on their own. Certain that half of the objects on display were cursed, James tried to move past a malodorous cart when a toothless street peddler jumped out from the other side.
"Need elephant tonsils, lads?" the witch cackled, pawing at James' shoulder as he moved away. "Bat ears? Toenails? I have every need for homemade remedies—"
"We're not interested," Sirius told her bluntly, and he bumped the witch with his shoulder as he passed. Staring unblinkingly at the two boys as they kept walking, the witch hummed to herself until finally turning away. Shivering, James cast a glance over his shoulder at Sirius.
"We don't have to go in any of the stores, right?" he inquired. "Mundungus would likely be out in the open, wouldn't he?"
Shrugging, Sirius looked into one of the nearby windows. "If you don't want to go in any of the buildings, that's okay. You can just say so."
Stiffening, James narrowed his eyes. "I'm not scared," he protested, but he suddenly halted as a nearby shop door opened and a stooped wizard walked out. Turning a red-tinged eye on the boys, the man mumbled something under his breath before stepping back into the store, having tacked a small sign to the door.
"Let's go in here," James spoke up, moving forward before he could change his mind, and he pulled the shop door open again. Glancing down, he read the sign while Sirius walked after him: Shipments now withheld until the new year.
Dimly lit and dusty, the interior of the store smelled like rotting wood and moth balls, but James was far too taken in by the objects around the room to let the odor bother him. Almost every inch of the shop was covered in merchandise; leering masks lined the walls, and several sheets of overhead netting held discarded glass balls and pewter pans. The walls were partially hidden by rows of bookcases and scattered shelves, which held items like a pair of bleeding books and several bottles full of staring eyes.
Only a few steps inside, James and Sirius were stopped by the harsh voice of the storeowner. "We don't see children," the stooped man snapped, apparently less than pleased that they had followed him inside.
"We're not here to buy anything," James told him, but he regretted his words when the oily-haired wizard scowled even more deeply.
"Then you have no business coming into my—"
"Do you know a Mundungus Fletcher?" Sirius interrupted, and the man narrowed his eyes.
"A Fletcher doesn't operate here," he replied, pointing towards the door. "Didn't you read the plaque? This is Borgin and Burkes, not Fletcher and Sons. Now if you two don't have anything better to do than pester me about people that I haven't even heard of, I'd suggest that you—"
Stepping forward before Sirius could respond, James slammed down a handful of Sickles onto the counter, stopping the wizard mid-sentence. Nodding at James, Sirius grunted his approval while the oily wizard's mouth twitched. After another moment, the man scooped the coins into his waiting palm and gave the boys a closer look.
"What do you want?" he inquired, still speaking rather shortly.
"Are you Borgin or Burkes?" James asked first, deciding that he would try a softer approach.
"Borgin."
"All right, Mr. Borgin," James continued, "where did you last see Mundungus?"
"He was in here about two months ago," the wizard replied vaguely, and Sirius stepped forward.
"Does he come here often?" he demanded, and the shop-owner merely wrinkled his nose.
"Often enough for me to recall him, obviously," he responded, and James cut in before Sirius could say anything else.
"We don't want to waste any of your time, sir. If you'd just tell us where to find Mundungus, we'll be out of your store before you can spot us leave."
"I don't know where he is," Borgin replied waspishly. "Do you think that I'm one to engage in small talk?"
Thinking that Borgin had made his point, James stood back as Sirius spoke up. "But you must know which stores he visits while in Knockturn Alley."
Sneering, Borgin shook his oily head. "That worm of a man sneaks about in the back alleys wherever he goes. You're not likely to find him anywhere respectable."
"And yet he comes in here," Sirius muttered under his breath, and Borgin snarled at him.
"Where exactly are your parents?" he hissed, looking as if he might shove the both of them out the door. "I can't imagine that you're here with consent. Why don't you go back home? I can't help you any more than I already have."
Afraid that they had gone too far, James was about to grab Sirius and back out of the shop when his friend puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. "My parents are Orion and Walburga Black, direct descendants of Phineas Nigellus Black, late Headmaster of Hogwarts and member of the Wizengamot. As Sirius Cynosura Black III, I suggest that you give us the information we need. My parents won't be too pleased to hear that your hospitality was lacking."
Although Borgin gave Sirius a long, piercing look, he slowly executed a small bow. "My apologies," he wheezed, almost choking on the frog in his throat, and he glanced up at James with narrowed eyes. "And who do I have the pleasure of serving with young Mr. Black?"
"Er, I'm James Potter," James answered, glancing quickly at Sirius. "Son of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, and descendant of . . . er . . . Hardwin and Henry Potter. Wizengamot. At least, the last one was."
After giving James a hard stare, Borgin turned to Sirius and nodded once. "What can I answer for you, Mr. Black?"
"Was Mundungus in here looking for Mandrake leaves?" Sirius replied immediately.
"This isn't an apothecary," the storeowner replied, failing to hold back an annoyed sigh.
"Then what was he here for?" Sirius demanded.
Shaking his head, Borgin began, "I don't recall the precise reason for—"
"Then bring out your ledger," Sirius interrupted. Pressing his lips together, Borgin glared at him.
"It's hardly your place to see my store's history," he hissed.
"If it makes any difference, my parents weren't too pleased with their last trip here," Sirius interjected, his arms still held over his chest. "If I spoke with them, I think that I could end all future purchases."
Remembering how unfamiliar Sirius had seemed with Borgin and Burkes just a few moments before, James wondered if his friend was bluffing. Fortunately, Borgin seemed to believe his words, and he scuttled towards the back room with a sudden pop of his eyes.
"I'll be right out with the accounts," he apologized, quickly disappearing from view. When he had left, a heavy silence settled over the room, and James glanced at Sirius to see his friend staring at the floor.
"I hate doing that," Sirius muttered in response to James' look. "Milking my family name just to scare people. It's sick how quickly everyone starts to grovel."
Not sure of how to respond, James remained silent until Borgin reappeared through the back door, now accessorized with a pair of pince-nez as he rifled through the pages of a heavy book. Hunched even more dramatically than usual, the wizard smacked his lips as his racing fingers came to a stop. "Here it is! Yes, now I remember: Mundungus stopped to try and sell me a few trifles. Nothing of importance, really."
"Let's see it," Sirius spoke, beckoning for the book as Borgin held it back up to his chest. Sighing, Borgin relented and set the journal down on the counter with a thud, and the boys leaned forward to read the scrawly handwriting.
"Bottles of unknown contents?" James read, glancing up at Borgin.
"Always a nice addition to a curiosities shop," the wizard told him, nodding at a bookshelf on the far wall, which was stacked to the top with bubbling bottles. "You'll see the very vials there."
Catching sight of a sickly yellow liquid almost like pus, James repressed a shudder and turned back to the ledger. As he started to skim the contents again, Sirius straightened with a sharp look at Borgin.
"It says here that Mundungus purchased an enchanted cauldron from you. You didn't mention that before."
Glancing down at his handwriting, Borgin shrugged. "Must have missed that."
"Why would he need an enchanted cauldron?" James thought out loud, facing Sirius.
"Maybe he needed to make a specific sort of potion," Sirius guessed. Turning to Borgin, he inquired, "What are cauldrons usually enchanted for?"
"All cauldrons have basic enchantments to stop magical ingredients from reacting unpleasantly," the shopkeeper answered in a tone of voice that seemed to suggest the boys' unintelligence. "But any cauldrons that pass through my store have very . . . special uses. Normally, they can hold much stronger potions, even those of toxic value. Or, conversely, they can be designed to hide their contents from the simple passerby."
"What sort of cauldron did you give to Mundungus?" James demanded.
"Just a standard Self-Thinking Cauldron," Borgin replied after a pause.
"Self-Thinking?" Sirius prodded.
"They have a sort of mind of their own," the oily-haired man responded. "I assumed that Mundungus, being a notorious cheapskate and talentless wizard, needed a cauldron to do most of the magic for him. But I really can't tell you any more than that."
"That's all right," James spoke more to himself than to Borgin, leaning back with a sigh. "You've done enough."
Borgin looked as if he wanted to agree most heartily, but he only gave the boys another small bow of his head as they walked towards the door. "A warm greeting to your parents, Mr. Black," he spoke, and James thought that he heard the slightest hint of malice behind his voice before the door shut him out.
While James and Sirius continued to mull over Mundungus' vanishment and what to do about their quest to become Animagi, Potter Cottage took on a more festive atmosphere. James' mother dressed up the terrace in winding holly branches, and the traditional sleepy Puffskein was suspended on the front door in the center of the wreath. Late on Christmas Eve, Winthrop caused a mild panic when he nearly opened the door to greet a group of Muggle carolers, and the Potters barely managed to save the Muggles' hysteria with a confused cacophony of yelling and banging behind the door. When James' father finally threw open the door to welcome their neighbors with a breathless smile, the carolers did not seem too intent on staying and only sang through one song, refusing offers of treacle fudge and hot tea.
Although a bit shaken after the incident, Winthrop did not relax his tightly-wound demeanor to allow James and Sirius up past midnight, and after a few minutes of their protesting, he eventually waddled out of the former's bedroom with the window closed and the lights extinguished. Rolling over to face the wall, James felt his weary eyelids sliding shut as a yawn broke the silence from behind him.
"James?" Sirius asked blearily, making great effort to keep his voice above a whisper. "I was thinking . . . when we get back to school, we should start Transfiguring ourselves, even without the potion. We can't put it off any longer."
"Yeah, we'll do that," James mumbled back, but Sirius' accompanying snore was the last thing that he remembered before falling into a deep sleep. "When we get back . . ."
In the morning, James started awake to the warbled singing of his mother, who was trying to coax her husband awake with a folksong. Hearing a series of muffled objections, James unwrapped himself from his bedsheets as Sirius did the same from the other side of the room, evidently too excited to mutter his usual string of morning-time obscenities.
Halfway down the stairs, the boys ran into James' parents and greeted them with exuberant greetings, although they only received a half-hearted nod from James' father. Winthrop tramped out into the parlor moments after the boys had settled themselves under the tree, offering each of his masters a gift. He even presented Sirius with a heavy sack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, which Sirius put down next to his other packages with a small nod at the house-elf.
After disappearing into the adjoining room, Winthrop soon reappeared with four mugs of apple cider, and James' parents sipped theirs while James and Sirius finished unwrapping their gifts. Before Sirius could turn and thank the Potters again for his trick wand from Zonko's Joke Shop, James' father lifted his hand and spoke.
"We have one last surprise waiting for you," he announced, and Sirius brightened.
"You do?"
Remembering the motorbike, James shared a smile with his father, but his mother surprised him by saying, "You too, James."
"Really?" James asked. "What is it?"
"Follow us and see," his father answered, and the boys scrambled to their feet as the wizard stood from the sofa.
Following the adults outside into the snow, James and Sirius kept close at their heels as they approached the old shed in the backyard. When James' father reached the chipped door of the shed, he turned around and shook a finger at the boys.
"Don't look! I've still got to bring it out!"
Facing the other direction when their pleading faces did no good, James and Sirius listened to the sound of the shed door opening and footsteps on a squeaky wood floor. Shifting his weight between his feet, Sirius tried to sneak a glance over his shoulder as a rumbling noise sounded from behind them, but James hit the side of his head just in time. After a few more moments, the sound of rolling subsided as the snow muffled it, and James' mother called for the boys.
"All right, you can—"
Before she had time to finish her sentence, Sirius had spun around and uttered a sort of strangled squeak, frozen at the sight of the gleaming motorbike parked on the lawn. His face had gone pale, and James thought that only a powerful sort of invisible rope was holding him back from lunging at the bike.
"Is that for me?" Sirius finally exclaimed, and James' parents began to laugh at his elation.
"It sure is!" James' father chuckled. "It's sort of a late birthday present that I've been working on for a few months. I heard from James that you enjoy Muggle Studies, and I couldn't think of a better gift for you! Muggles usually don't start driving until they're older, but I figured that we could keep it at our house until you're of age. Unless, of course," he added, rubbing his hairless forehead, "you wanted to take it back to Grimmauld Place, but I didn't think that your family would react well to a present from us."
Not daring to blink, Sirius continued to stare at the motorbike until James' father finally took his hand from his head and laughed. "Are you waiting for it to sprout wings and fly? Go ahead! Try it out!"
As if snapping awake, Sirius vaulted forward and ran his hands over the handlebars before leaping onto the seat. Grinning like a small child, he kicked up the engine, and a thundering roar soon sputtered from the exhaust pipe. Waving away the cloud of smoke that arose as a result, James coughed before Sirius quelled the noise a few moments later.
"Is it a four-stroke engine?" Sirius asked James' father, glancing between his legs. "A one-cylinder? How much horsepower does it have?"
Smiling sheepishly, James' father started rubbing his scalp again. "To be perfectly honest, I don't have any idea."
Still grinning, Sirius leapt off of the motorbike and launched himself into the older wizard's arms. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is the best present ever!"
"Careful! My ribs might crack!" James' father laughed before his wife turned to James.
"We have something for you, too—a sort of add-on to Sirius' gift."
"What is it?" James demanded, and his father broke free of Sirius long enough to duck into the shed and pull out what looked like a large, metal bowl.
"This is the motorbike's sidecar!" James' father explained, giving the ungainly contraption a clanging pat. "With this, you can both ride at the same time!"
Feeling his face fall, James racked his brain for something to say as Sirius started chuckling. "Er, that's great!" James thanked his father, scratching the back of his neck as he eyed the sidecar. "But I think that we'll both fit on the motorbike for at least a few years, right, Sirius?" he asked his friend, who was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand and was temporarily incapable of answering.
"Why don't you attach the sidecar and see how it fits?" James' father suggested, pushing the sidecar to the bike with a beam.
James, not knowing how to refuse, itched the back of his head as he tried to think of an answer, but he was suddenly saved the trouble when the back door of the house burst open to reveal Winthrop. Turning, Sirius and the Potters stared at the house-elf's tiny form as he panted.
"There's a couple at the door, Master Fleamont," Winthrop spoke. "Winthrop tried to explain that the Masters were on holiday, but the visitors insisted on coming in. They claim to be here for—"
Pushed aside suddenly, Winthrop stumbled away as the imposing form of Mrs. Black swept into the garden, her husband following just behind her. James' mother let a cry escape her lips at the interruption, but Mrs. Black did not allow the Potters to speak as she raised a hand and pointed at Sirius.
"We've come for him!" she snapped at the Potters, continuing her rapid pace through the grass. She was clothed in what James guessed to be one of her finer dresses, a black v-neck laced with gold thread and pearls, and the sight of her marching so purposefully in such an outfit seemed to go against what James had ever thought of her. Matching her in color, Mr. Black was in impeccably ironed dress robes, looking as if the two of them had just Apparated from a Christmas dinner. Glancing down, James saw that he was still in his nightclothes, and he tried to keep his face from turning hot as the Blacks stopped in front of Sirius.
"I don't understand!" James' father spoke, glancing between the Black parents. "I thought that you agreed to Sirius spending the holidays with us!"
"What we agreed to or not is entirely out of your knowledge or control," Mrs. Black snapped, her eyes flashing as she jabbed a finger at Sirius again, "but this one has been sneaking about in places he shouldn't have been. I thought that you would have at least been able to keep him on a closer rein, but I have sorely underestimated your character, an act I had thought impossible before now."
Exchanging a look, James' parents could not seem to form a response, and Mrs. Black raised her eyebrow. "You do know what I'm talking about. Surely you didn't send Sirius and your son to Knockturn Alley with permission, did you?"
Feeling his heart fall as his parents looked at each other again, James stammered, "Then . . . then you . . ."
Snapping her sharp gaze upon him, Mrs. Black thundered, "Then I knew? I only wish that the owner of that filthy little pawnshop had contacted us sooner! Anyone would have been able to tell that you were up to no good!"
"You're to return with us," Mr. Black told Sirius, the strange detachment in his voice balancing Mrs. Black's volcanic exclamations. "You will spend the rest of the holidays at home."
"But you can't just take him away!" James' mother protested. "It's Christmas!"
"Yes, even if Sirius did go somewhere he wasn't allowed, that's hardly a reason to send him home!" James' father added.
Straightening, Mrs. Black glared down at James' parents. "He's coming with us! You can't keep him here!"
"You can't make me go!" Sirius objected, but Mrs. Black snapped her steely gaze on him.
"Yes, we can!" she snarled, sitting on each word, and Sirius turned to the Potters for help. After another shared glance, James' parents grew downcast.
"I don't think it can be helped," James' father apologized to Sirius with another look at the Blacks. As Sirius shrank, James jumped forward and stood in front of him.
"He can't go now! We still have a week before school starts!"
"Get out of the way!" Mrs. Black hissed at him, but James held his ground and stared at his parents. Shaking his head, his father motioned for him to step away.
"There's nothing we can do, James," he said. "He's their son."
Ever so slowly, James felt his feet step to the side against his will, but he caught a small nod from Sirius when he looked his way. As Sirius trudged to his parents' sides, Mrs. Black swept her eyes across the yard and eyed the motorbike where it was partially hidden behind the Potters.
"What is that?" she spat, and James' parents started.
"Er, that's a motorbike," James' father answered, rubbing his scalp.
Curling her lip, Mrs. Black looked down at Sirius. "I hope you didn't so much as touch that thing," she threatened, and Sirius looked at the ground.
"We'll talk at home," Mr. Black told Sirius before tilting his chin ever so slightly at the Potters. "Don't try to send an owl. Our son's being punished."
Turning away, he and Mrs. Black strode back towards Potter Cottage with Sirius trailing along behind them. Having righted himself after the Blacks' sudden introduction, Winthrop stood aside as the family strode back into the house in single-file. Throwing James one last glance before he disappeared, Sirius halted for as long as his mother allowed before she pulled him inside and slammed the door.
Left alone, the Potters stood still for a few moments until James' mother finally broke the silence with a sigh. "Oh, I do hope that they let poor Sirius grab his things. James, run up to your room and check, will you?"
Although suspecting that she was just trying to get rid of him, James hiked back up to Potter Cottage and looked over his shoulder, watching as his parents begin to push the motorbike back into the shed. After passing Winthrop without a word, he ran up to his room and discovered a few of Sirius' belongings still lying on the extra bed, although Sirius' wand and suitcase were missing. Realizing that he would have to return the rest of the items upon his arrival at Hogwarts, James collapsed on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the conversation going on below. Most likely, his parents were trying to devise a way to talk some sense into the Blacks, but he doubted that Sirius' parents would respond to any attempts of negotiation.
By the end of Christmas Day, James' parents seemed to have forgotten all about the Blacks' accusations about James' and Sirius' visit to Knockturn Alley, and James did not bring it up. He supposed that he could always lie and say that they had gotten lost, but he was grateful that he never had to use the excuse. Instead, the rest of break passed by uneventfully after Sirius' departure, and James could barely contain himself as he waited for the return to King's Cross Station.
When the day finally came, he burst onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters looking for Sirius, almost losing his parents in his frenzy. However, it was not Sirius, but the Lupins and Pettigrews who he spotted first, and he allowed his parents enough time to catch up as he stopped and waved.
"Hi, James!" Peter greeted, skipping up to him. When James responded only with a nod, he glanced around and frowned. "Where's Sirius?"
"He had to go home," James explained, looking down. "His parents showed up and dragged him back to Grimmauld Place."
"That's too bad," Peter responded, which James thought a rather understated reaction. "Will he be meeting us here?"
Before James could respond, a couple of students on the platform were violently shoved apart, and Sirius dashed out of the opening and stopped by his roommates' sides. Feeling himself relax, James smiled when he saw that Sirius was wearing a wide grin.
"There you are!" Sirius exclaimed as he skidded to a stop. "I escaped as soon as we got to the station!"
"What happened when you left?" James interrogated.
"Oh, I'm fine," Sirius dismissed, brushing his question aside. "My mum yelled at me a bit and wouldn't let me leave the house for a week, but at least I'm here now! Miss me?" he asked James with a smirk.
James gave him a searching frown, and Sirius dropped his upbeat tone for a moment to hiss at him. "I'm fine, James," he insisted before turning to the others with a grin. "Hey, guess what Mr. Potter got me for Christmas! He gave me an actual Muggle motorbike!"
"Whoa, really?" Peter gasped.
"It has a kickstart and this huge headlight!" Sirius bragged, spreading his hands apart. "It even comes with a sidecar, right, James?" he added, elbowing his friend before puffing out his chest. "Mr. Potter says that I can ride it for real when I turn seventeen, and I already know how to work most of it from The Muggle World of Motion!"
"That's wicked!" Peter exclaimed, but Remus simply nodded. James noticed that he was staring at the ground, but he looked up a moment later when Sirius stopped talking to frown at him.
"That's great, Sirius. It sounds like fun." Even Peter pursed his lips at his unconvincing tone, but Remus' suitcase gave a shudder before any of the others could speak. Sighing, Remus requested, "Hold on: I need to make sure that Mussmug doesn't escape before we board. I'll just be a moment."
Stepping to the side, he dragged his suitcase away from the others and crouched next to it, fiddling with the locks as his friends shared a glance. Behind them, Remus' parents were talking with the other adults, and James ran up to pull Mr. Lupin aside.
"Excuse me!" James urged, and Mr. Lupin looked down at him when they had drawn away from the others. Glancing back at Remus where he was hunkered over his suitcase, James interrogated, "What's wrong with Remus?"
Following James' gaze, Mr. Lupin pressed his lips together. "Oh, he'll be all right. He's just upset over an article in The Daily Prophet."
"Was there another werewolf attack?" James questioned, suddenly serious, and Mr. Lupin gave him a small smile.
"Well, aren't you on top of things?" he said, attempting to lighten the mood, but he shook his head as James stared up at him. "It's bound to trouble him. Just give him a bit of time, and he'll be back to his usual, cheery self."
"But he knows that the werewolves can't be working for Lord Voldemort," James stated, and Mr. Lupin jumped a bit. "It's just bad luck that they're breaking out. It has nothing to do with the Death Eaters."
Looking over both of his shoulders, Mr. Lupin gestured for James to keep his voice low as he put a hand on his shoulder. "Er, let's not talk about this now. We wouldn't want the others to overhear."
"Why not?" James asked, blinking. "It's the truth, isn't it? Why shouldn't they know?"
Leaning even further in, Mr. Lupin answered, "We don't want them to grow suspicious, do we? And besides, Remus shouldn't get his hopes up. None of us know the full story." When James only stared at him, he continued, "Listen, James, I know you mean well, but there are other factors that need to be taken into account before jumping to any conclu—"
Cutting him off, a shrill train whistle signaled the time for boarding, and Mrs. Pettigrew slapped Peter on the back with her voice at a near-shout. "Get going now, lad! You'll miss the train at this rate!"
Breaking away from the adults, Sirius and Peter waved goodbye as Remus finished with his suitcase and scrambled to his feet. Straightening, Mr. Lupin released James, but not before he whispered a final parting under his breath. "James, do me a favor and don't tell Remus about our talk, okay?"
Although he nodded, James felt his mind race as he turned around. Wondering why Mr. Lupin had made such a request, he nevertheless grinned back at his roommates when they beckoned to him, and he thought no more of it as they climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express.