Chapter Ten

It Started Small

Now, now my good man, this is no time for making enemies

~Voltaire

(On his deathbed when asked by a priest to renounce Satan)

As the weeks passed, James quickly discovered something. For him, magic was fairly easy. He wasn't perfect; he never got a spell on the first try. But it did take him significantly fewer tries than the rest of his classmates. He nearly froze his entire glass after only one day of practice in Charms. He transfigured his circular button into a square button after only two classes. Magic took effort, but for James, that effort was significantly less.

Luckily for James, Sirius seemed as naturally talented and provided James with a partner to goof off with. They would sit at the back of a class, or in a secluded corner, and talk about Quidditch, or cool jinxes they'd heard about. When it came time to practice, they would get up and try a few times, then maybe, if they were making good progress, try one of the jinxes out on each other.

They had yet to become disruptive, so, with the exception of Professor McGonagall who was a stickler for rules, and Professor Strinkley who hated them, the professors let them get away with a lot. Remus, on the other hand, often gave them disapproving looks.

Ever since the first day, when James forced his friendship upon Remus, the sandy haired boy had been sitting with James, Sirius, and Peter for meals and classes. He still didn't say much and would head off on his own to the library quite often, but James would take what he could get.

Remus, James decided, was good at magic, but he required more bookwork and effort to achieve comparable results to the messy haired boy. During classes the thin boy would take copious notes as the professors lectured. He would go about the practical magic with focus and determination. In the evenings, he always had a book open, taking more notes.

Unlike Remus, who was still keeping his distance, Peter never seemed to leave James' and Sirius' side. He spent nearly every waking minute with the pair and had begun to partake in Sirius' and James' goofing off. He too wouldn't listen in class and, when practicing magic, would give up quickly and watch James and Sirius jinx each other. James was happy for the audience; he liked impressing Peter with his magical skill. It was like having a younger brother.

It was obvious to James that Peter's lack of scholarly focus was not a result of the ease with which he grasped the work. Peter was avoiding work not because he found it boring, but because he found it hard. James sometimes felt like he should help Peter, encourage him to continue his practice and give him pointers but James didn't want to lose his audience, and so he let Peter continue to give up.

He figured that if worse came to worse, he could always try and tutor Peter to ensure he passed his exams.

"I performed that simple shield charm much better than Price did! His was half the size of mine! I should have received those five house points, not Slytherin!" James complained loudly as the first year Gryffindors made their way to Transfiguration. In the nearly one month since the beginning of classes, James' opinion of Defense Against the Dark Arts and Professor Strinkley had only soured more and more. Now, after every class, James found at least one thing, though usually more, to complain about. Lately, the trend had focused on Strinkley's bias.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had been a Slytherin at school; he'd as much as bragged about it in several classes. He obviously favoured Slytherin, praising and rewarding them significantly more than the Gryffindors. He was also much harsher to the Gryffindors, yelling or punishing them for minor errors that the Slytherins got away with.

That day had been Shield Charms, and Professor Strinkley had promised five house points to the individual who could perform the best one. He'd given them twenty minutes of practice time, during which he'd given pointers only to the Slytherins and completely ignored the Gryffindors. Then, when time had come to perform the spell, Professor Strinkley had rewarded Slytherin Matthias Price. In James' estimation, Price's spell was cut rate and faulty, especially when compared to James' own.

"I agree," Sirius added, "Strinkley definitely had it out for anyone not in Slytherin. I mean, my spell was definitely better than Price's and yet Strinkley told me mine was not effective and would allow even the simplest jinx through. And then he didn't help me improve it! He turned quickly to Moira Scott who I thought was doing just fine and didn't really need any pointers."

"He didn't help me either," Peter spoke hesitantly. He had obviously been struggling with his Shield Charm, only producing wisps of smoke from his wand. Strinkley had berated Peter for his lack of skill but offered no advice or aid.

"Just not fair! Not fair at all! We should bring it up to Professor McGonagall and see if we can't get something done, have some punishment enacted, and either ensure Professor Strinkley treats us fairly or else is dismissed." James' eyes sparkled with mischievous glee as the plan formed in his mind. Sirius met James' eye and understanding crossed the longer haired boy's face. They had only known each other a month, but in that time, they'd become thick as thieves; they always could guess what the other was thinking.

The boys, along with the other Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws, filed into Transfiguration. The buttons that they had been practicing with for the past month were no longer on their desks, replaced instead by small wooden cups. For a minute, presented with the prospect of learning something new, James forgot all about his complaints regarding Strinkley. He quickly took his seat and focused on Professor McGonagall.

"Good afternoon," Professor McGonagall spoke, instantly quieting down any remaining conversations. "Your button transfiguration has been progressing along quite nicely. I think most of you have grasped the skill well enough that we can now move on. Next, I would like you to change your wooden cups into glass goblets. Now, this is a more difficult skill requiring more focus and a greater understanding of theory." Professor McGonagall then began an explanation of what was involved in the spell and James began to tune her out.

"Hey," Sirius whispered from James' right. James quickly shot Sirius a look, showing that he'd heard. The pair had quickly discovered that, if they were going to talk during McGonagall's class, they had to be as discreet as possible. Sirius then knocked his arm against James' and slid a scrap of parchment towards the other boy.

We still going through with it? –S

It took James a moment to remember what 'it' Sirius was referring to. Then it clicked and he quickly scribbled a response.

Of course. Bring him down! Hang back after class? –J

Excellent! Hey, wanna see who can change their cup first? I bet I can get it in ten tries –S

You're on! –J

"James," Remus suddenly hissed from James' left, "McGonagall." He looked up from the note he'd been passing with Sirius. Professor McGonagall was staring at him with an expectant look.

"Would you like me to repeat the question, Mr. Potter? Are your notes that distracting?" Her expression made it clear that she knew he hadn't been writing about her lecture. James had two options, figure out what question had been asked and somehow answer it, or come clean and face Professor McGonagall reading his note aloud.

What's the most important step to a successful transfiguration?

The words suddenly appeared on the note. James breathed a sigh of relief, then spoke. His tone was calm and cool, creating the appearance that he hadn't been almost caught.

"Sorry, Professor. I was just trying to get everything down. It is so important, after all. To answer your question, visualizing the object in its transfigured state is important to a successful transfiguration."

Professor McGonagall looked at him, making it clear that she didn't believe his excuse but letting him get away with it because he had provided her with an answer. James turned to Remus and mouthed 'I owe you' before focusing on McGonagall, determined to not have to face the same situation again.

To James, Remus was still a bit of a mystery. He often kept himself apart from the other first year Gryffindors, choosing to spend his free time on his own. James was also positive that Remus was hiding something from the rest of them. There was that strange second sheet of paper that the sandy haired boy had received with his schedule on the first day of class. Then a few days later, Remus had gotten really sickly looking, more so than usual, and said he was going to the infirmary to see if the matron had something for an upset stomach. However, when James had gone up later to check on his friend, Madame Pomfrey, the matron, had insisted that no one had been up to see her all day. The next day though, Remus looked much better and seemed to have returned to his normal self, so James didn't question it in the moment. Maybe Remus had chosen to just sleep it off in the dormitory instead of seeking a healer.

Yet, despite all this seclusion and secrecy, Remus was always willing to help his friends study and complete homework, once spending an entire evening trying to explain to Peter the proper way to transform his button to no avail. Whenever a professor was coming by their table while James and Sirius were goofing off, Remus would let the pair know so they could look like they were being productive. And, Remus had provided James with Professor McGonagall's question to get him out of a potentially sticky situation. The dichotomy of Remus' behaviour made it hard for James to pinpoint if the skinny boy wanted to be friends with the other Gryffindors, but James' constant craving for people to surround himself with lead him to not question the other boy too much. For the time being, Remus was sticking around most of the time and that was good enough for James. He could overlook the other things.

After class, the four Gryffindor first years stayed seated as the others filed out. Professor McGonagall was sitting behind a large mahogany desk at the front of the room, writing in a fairly battered book. Once the entire class had exited the classroom, the four boys led by James and Sirius walked up to the desk. McGonagall didn't look up.

"If you are here to apologize for goofing off in class today, Mr. Potter, I will gladly hear what you have to say. Otherwise, I have a lot of work I'd like to complete before dinner tonight and would prefer not to be interrupted." She momentarily paused her writing, lifting her quill and waited for James' response. Sirius and Peter both turned to look at James, expecting him to take the lead with this new unexpected hitch.

"Of course, Professor. I am terribly sorry about what happened. Your lectures are extremely important and not paying attention to them could have grave implications for my magical education and may even harm others if I miss-perform a spell," James apologized, his tone truly conciliatory. Sirius shot him a look having not expected the other boy to apologize and forego lodging a complaint like they'd planned. James, in turn, shot Sirius a look telling him to be patient.

"I should have been listening to your lecture," James continued, "however I was distracted by a … personal problem. " James paused, searching for the correct word to describe his situation with Professor Strinkley.

McGonagall, who had been looking at her notes in the aged book, finally looked up at the quartet in front of her. She lowered her quill and levelled them with a look encouraging James to continue. He took a shaky breath, falsely indicating his reticence to talk about the matter.

"Well, you see Professor, it's about our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Strinkley."

"Yes, Mr. Potter, what about him?"

James had to suppress a smile. He'd decided to appear reluctant to talk about it because he felt it would be more beneficial. If he was too eager, Professor McGonagall may not take his complaint seriously. However, reluctance showed that he didn't want to share it, didn't want to get Strinkley in trouble, but was compelled to talk about it because it was so important. And it seemed that his faux-reluctance was working. Professor McGonagall truly looked concerned, ready to help students in her house with whatever problem they were having.

"Well, occasionally in class, he appears to favour the Slytherin students over the Gryffindors. Today alone he failed to help Peter, who was seriously struggling with his Shield Charm, in favour of praising Slytherins who could perform the spell exceptionally already." James then turned to Peter who nodded in confirmation.

Professor McGonagall was quiet for several seconds. She looked at each boy and then sighed. Her concerned expression had disappeared.

"Professor Strinkley is a respected professor at this school. He has been interviewed and vetted through an extremely rigorous process. He has also been teaching at this school for five years without issue. If you have a problem with Professor Strinkley, you need to speak with him about it. Otherwise you need to respect Professor Strinkley and treat him with the deference he deserves.

"Now hurry along or you'll be late for your next class." She then levelled them with a look that made it clear that the conversation had ended. The boys bowed their heads and then shuffled off to their next class, Potions. James, though momentarily deterred, would not give up until Professor Strinkley was replaced. He'd just have to find another way of doing so.

On Fridays, the first year Gryffindors last class was Potions. Next to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions was James' least favourite class. It was his worst class, though he wasn't complete rubbish. He could, if he took his time, follow the instructions and produce an acceptable potion. However, he could not do it quickly like other magical disciplines and his results were never at the same level in potions.

Also, Potions meant Slytherins and having to watch Snivellus one-up everyone with his unnatural ability to quickly produce absolutely perfect potions. Every time it happened anger bubbled up in James' chest. He wanted to snap the other boy's wand in half or hex him into oblivion. He couldn't stand to be bested by the lowly, slimy Slytherin.

"My, my, Mr. Snape," Professor Slughorn spoke as he circled throughout the classroom observing each student's attempt at the Forgetfulness Potion antidote. James had been carefully, meticulously following each step laid out in his textbook. He would not miss one or make a mistake. He had felt he'd been doing a pretty stellar job, even earning an approving smile from Slughorn.

Then the potions professor arrived at Severus' table, and any sense of accomplishment that James had been feeling came crashing down.

"Absolutely perfect! You even got it to the exact right shade of grey. Ten points to Slytherin!" Snivellus was finished his potion, an excellent one at that, and James was only on step ten of eighteen. In anger, he turned to Sirius beside him.

"Snivellus' head is getting too large for his own good. We need to do something about it," James whispered. Sirius looked up from his potion and smiled at James.

"I've got just the thing."

On that particular Friday, the first years finally got their first flying lesson. This, of all the subjects and events, had been what had kept James going through terrible DADA classes and miserable Potions lessons. As the first years made their way down to the Quidditch field, James had a pronounced skip in his step.

It also didn't hurt that Sirius had developed the most ingenious way to get back at Snivellus for upstaging both James and Sirius in Potions. This afternoon would be, in James' estimation, the best since he'd gotten to Hogwarts and been sorted into Gryffindor.

James shot an eye in Severus' direction as the group picked their way across the grounds. The Slytherin stood apart from his housemates; the gap wasn't large, but still noticeable, and James made a note of it. Even amongst his peers he was an outcast. That was definitely an exploitable fact.

Walking a few steps behind Snivellus and the Slytherins was Sirius. He had broken apart from the Gryffindors by honing in on a particular Slytherin girl, Moira Scott, who Sirius had met at Diagon Alley that summer. Sirius had explained that they had talked about Quidditch at their meeting, so talking to her at that moment, when they were about to partake in their first flying lesson would make sense. And it would provide him with the perfect cover to get close to Snape without raising suspicions. Sirius was, as discretely as possible setting up their revenge. James smiled at his friends and nodded slightly, encouraging Sirius along in his work.

Finally, the first years arrived at the Quidditch stadium. Rows of brooms met them, set out ready for their first lessons. The brooms were all in different states, some pristine and brand new, others well-worn and poorly maintained. First years brought their own brooms, but if they were unable, a school broom was provided for them. The school brooms were of the poorest quality and clearly denoted whose parents could not afford brooms.

James' broom was sleek and brand new, the fastest one on the market. He proudly walked up to the elegant broom as other students stared jealously. Both Remus and Peter had school-provided brooms, though by James' estimation they were two of the higher quality. Lily, with her muggle background, had a very basic broom; James made a mental note to educate the redhead about the different makes, models, and types of brooms.

Sirius, James noticed, was carefully picking his way towards a splintering, dirty, ragged school broom. He had his wand in his hands and kept his head on a swivel, watching the other first years mill about in search of their brooms.

"Mr. Black," a voice echoed through the crowd, "that is not your broom! Please pay attention!" Standing off to the side of the Quidditch field, looking quite full of himself was Karl Broadmoor, a retired professional Quidditch player recently hired to teach, coach, and referee at the school.

Sirius gave Broadmoor a sheepish look of apology and slunk back towards his expensive looking broom. Once he was standing over his own broom, he shot James a smug look. 'Success!'

"Good afternoon, first years. Welcome to your first flying lesson. Now, I'm sure many of you have been on a broom before, but many of you haven't. So, like many of your classes thus far, I will begin today by evaluating where you are. So, to begin, simply step up to your broom, place your hand above it, and clearly say the command 'Up!'" Broadmoor spoke to the class once they'd settled down a little. Everyone followed his instructions, some like James with more confidence than others.

"Up!" James commanded and his broom readily arrived in his hand. Sirius' broom acted in kind. The pair then quickly turned to look at Severus. He was repeating the word 'up' over and over again, yet his broom refused to budge. Other students could get their brooms to at least twitch or hop up off the ground, but Snape's didn't move at all. James and Sirius began snickering.

After twenty minutes, all the first years managed to get their brooms off the ground. Snivellus was the last one to accomplish it and it took a fair amount of coaching from Broadmoor. Next, the students were instructed to mount their brooms and gently push off from the ground to hover only a few inches. It was the same way James' father had first taught him to fly.

Most of the students once again readily followed the instructions and quickly mounted their brooms. James and Sirius moved much slower than the rest of the students; their focus was much more squarely on Snape and his actions. He timidly mounted his broom, obviously not comfortable or competent on it. As soon as his foot hit the ground and he closed his legs around the broom, it took off across the stadium.

The broom was not high off the ground; in fact, Snape was dragging his feet along the grass, trying to stop himself. When the broom reached the end of the playing field. It took off over the seats and up into the open air. The entire time, Severus was screaming at the top of his lungs. Broadmoor quickly mounted his own broom and took off after the slimy, screaming Slytherin.

"Everyone stay put or it'll be detention for a month!" Broadmoor called from the air. As soon as their instructor was out of earshot, Sirius and James fell upon each other in peals of laughter.

"Did you see his face?" James managed to get out.

"Probably wet himself!" Sirius responded before the mirth overcame him. Peter quickly joined in with the laughter, though his wasn't as all-consuming as the other two.

"Really can't trust those school-provided brooms. They're a bit touchy! Best to get your own, though his parents would have to sell the tiny shack they probably call home to even afford the most basic of brooms!" James ribbed.

"What did you do?!" a loud, obviously concerned voice yelled. James, bent over as a result of his laughing fit, looked up to see an irate Lily. For a split second he felt bad for what he'd done. Not because he regretted humiliating and scaring Snape, but because of the look Lily was currently giving him. Her green eyes seemed to fill with flames and her brow furrowed so much that the space between them disappeared. Her hands were clenched at her side and James was momentarily worried that she'd hit him with them.

"We were only enacting karma, Lily," Sirius responded, clutching his sides and smiling widely.

"Well, it was cruel and unnecessary, and I will be informing Professor Broadmoor about it! You can't treat people like that!" Lily then turned on her heel and stormed off. James wanted to go after her but stopped himself. Snivellus had just gone shooting passed James' sightline and the messy haired boy was reminded of the hilarity of the situation and dissolved back into immense, side-splitting laughter.

Served Snivellus right!