Author's Notes: I wasn't planning on releasing this today, but it just happened. LOL. Here's my Christmas/New Year's gift to everyone. I hope you guys enjoy it :). Sorry for the slowness, people. It'll pick up, I promise! There's a reason for the slowness... Just please bare with me xD. Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed :D!


A Taste of Foreboding

"Are you—" James took a deep breath. "—mad?"

Sirius Black sat at the furthest end of the, still, crowded Leaky Cauldron, smirking as he watched the messy-haired boy stumble towards him. It was obvious to anyone that James had rushed on his way over. Although his dark hair was almost always a mess, the rest of him looked just as disheveled. The handsome chap noted that James was still wearing the same clothes he had seen him in earlier: though, his shirt was off set from the middle, and the boy's pants were noticeably wrinkled. Even the blank look in his usually bright hazel eyes suggested that he had practically just woken up.

"Slept well, I assume?" greeted Sirius, standing up. The handsome chap wore some rather grand-looking clothes for so early in the morning. "And no, if my memory serves me correctly, I believe I told you my name was Sirius."

James wiped a bit of sweat from his brow before muttering, "Not mad. Mental. How long have you been waiting?"

The handsome chap gave a tentative look. "Do you really want to ask that question?"

"Well, I—"

"Forget I said that," interrupted Sirius, smirking as he grabbed his coat, which he had hung on the chair, he had sat in only moments before. "Shall we go then…?"

"W-Wait a moment," sputtered the messy-haired boy, "Go already? Don't I get a decent expla—?"

"When we get to your place, I'll answer any question you have for me, mate. But right now, we must be on our way."

Without even a moment's hesitation, Sirius pushed passed him and headed towards the fireplace. James frowned as he watched Sirius lead the way. That was twice the guy had interrupted him while he was speaking, and he was beginning to detest the feeling. Sure, he always managed to interrupt people, but James wasn't really all that accustomed to being interrupted by other people. Perhaps it was it karma? He shrugged at the thought of it; perhaps I ought to be more considerate from now on…? He kind of doubted that he'd be able to do it though. Shrugging at the mere thought that he was taking orders from a hotshot (or in his mind, a copycat), he followed after the tall and strapping young master of the Black family till they came to the hunchbacked old keeper of the fireplace.

"To his house, please," stated Sirius, looking at James over his shoulder.

The hunchbacked man had a peek around at James before swishing his wand over a long roll of parchment that had been tacked to the side of fireplace. Without even having to ask, the parchment suddenly had both of their names and James's address neatly printed on it. The man then took from his table a pouch of—no doubt—floo powder and handed it to the boys. Sirius took is graciously, and then tossed at James.

"Can you be a good lad and toss the powder?"

James stared. What? Was Sirius trying to tell him what to do now, too? Just as he was about to retort something, in his opinion to be, relatively mean and excruciatingly rude right back at the handsome chap, the fireplace suddenly burst into flames all by itself. Someone new had just arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. Much to James's amazement, as the newcomer wore practically the same style of clothes as the friend who was ordering him around. Their coats even bore the same insignia upon it. On further inspection, this boy seemed to have the same features as Sirius as well only slightly younger-looking. James couldn't help but rub his eyes; he couldn't tell if his mind was playing tricks on him or not.

The newcomer turned his head towards Sirius and greeted, "I knew I'd find you here."

Sirius, on the other hand, paid the boy no mind and flashed a look at James. "You weren't fast enough," he muttered crossly.

James shrugged, not really having the heart to retort anything. Instead, he turned to the boy Sirius had ignored: "Uhm, who are you?"

"That's Regulus," answered Sirius, suddenly, before the other could respond. "My younger brother. We really should go—"

"Go?" mouthed James, blinking between the two siblings. "But didn't your brother just—?"

"Sirius, I brought your things," interrupted Regulus, lifting the bag that had been hanging off his shoulder. It was quite apparent to James that Sirius's brother wasn't talking to anyone else but Sirius; he hadn't even glanced at him since arriving. He was talking as if James wasn't even there! "I wasn't planning on sticking around…"

"Oh, well, thanks," murmured the elder brother, taking his bag from Regulus. "…Mum'll be mad if she finds out—"

Regulus raised an open palm to stop Sirius from finishing his sentence. "She won't," he stated, simply, before turning to the hunchbacked old man: "Number 12 Grimmauld Place."

As soon as the boy said this, the fireplace suddenly sparked alive with green flames. James gapped in pure amazement. How the bloody hell did that happen? Neither Regulus nor the old hunchback had moved and nor did anyone toss in the Floo Powder yet; so then why? Why did the fireplace suddenly come alive with flames like that? Was there another new arrival…? No. No one was coming out…

Regulus took a few steps toward the flames before looking back at his brother to remind him: "Toujours pur." And then he stepped into the fireplace and was swallowed by the fire.


"What was that all about?"

James stumbled out of his fireplace and onto his living room floor. Almost as soon as Regulus had gone, Sirius began to act even weirder than he already had. He had grabbed the Floo Powder from James's mitts and practically spilled it all over the place as he threw it into the fireplace back at Leaky Cauldron. Thankfully the powder wasn't combustible outside of the fireplace, so no one was harmed when it spewed onto a nearby table and a family of wizards passing by. He had also hurriedly ushered James into the green flames against the messy-haired boy's will. The next thing James knew, he was spinning in a sea of flames and stumbling out of his fireplace back home. Not even a few seconds had passed and Sirius came walking out of his fireplace as well, looking as pale as the moon outside.

"Do I get an explanation yet?" asked James, as Sirius bent over to help him up.

Sirius shrugged. "I suppose. I just wish you came earlier… We could have avoided this."

"Avoided what? And what was that your brother said before he left…? Torch poo?"

The last statement actually made the handsome chap laugh. The color immediately returned to his skin, and he smirked back at James. "It's toujours pur, mate."

James frowned. "Same thing. What language is that anyway?"

"French."

"So… your family's French?"

Sirius stared blankly at James, not knowing whether to hit him or laugh some more. "No—Well, I don't know really. There are a lot of people named 'Black' after all. I could be part Mongolian and not know it, if yeh get me. "

James nodded in agreement at this. "What's it mean?"

"Always pure," answered someone that was obviously not Sirius Black. Sirius's mouth hadn't moved at all to answer, so James had a pretty good idea that it wasn't him (unless the guy was trying to throw him off). "Now… James, you know better than to sneak out of the house so early in the morning without telling anyone."

The two boys hesitated before turning their heads to see who had found them out. It had actually been James's father, Fleamont Potter, who now stood in the doorway looking warily at the two boys. He wore his bathrobe, meaning he had accidentally stumbled upon them while either on the way to the loo or the refrigerator.

"S-Sorry…" James murmured, rumpling his hair embarrassedly. "Uh… Dad, this is Sirius."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sirius," said Fleamont bowing slightly, a bright smile on his face. "Please make yourself at home. Any friend of my son's is warmly welcomed here."

Sirius bowed slightly. "T-Thank you, sir."

Fleamont seemed to smile back at Sirius, but then turned just a little stern when his eyes came upon his son. James felt a slight chill crawl up his back as their eyes met. Upon seeing that he had succeeded in scaring the crap out of his own son, his dark eyes soften and a wide smile pressed against his old face.

"I'm not mad. But next time, leave a note, okay?"

At this statement, Fleamont hobbled out of the doorway and toward whatever destination he had been heading towards before he stumbled upon the two. James let out an exasperated sigh at seeing his father leave them. He scratched the side of his face, and then sheepishly turned back to his guest who had been staring at him for some time, amusement evident in his gray eyes.

"Shove it," muttered James, before Sirius could say anything.

Sirius tried muffling his laughter, but he couldn't hide it completely. James, on the other hand, rolled his eyes and led the way out of the living room and into the hallway. The handsome chap actually didn't stop laughing until they began walking up the grandeur Potter staircase. It was evident to anyone who merely walked through the house that the Potters were pretty darn well off. Sirius could almost gander that James wouldn't even need to work after he graduated from Hogwarts. His parents seemed nice enough, after all.

"You're house is very open," said Sirius, finally, as they treaded down yet another hallway. "Mine's kind of cramped and really… dark."

James cocked his head to one side. "Dark? Like how dark?"

"Like dungeon dark. My parent's aren't really fans of interior decorations. Woah—wicked room."

By this time, they had turned into James's homely quarters. Sirius couldn't help but awe at the amount of Quidditch stuff that hung from the walls. There were zooming brooms all over the walls of almost every team out there; to his amazement, it didn't look messy at all. It was evident that little James Potter had quite literally taken a lot of time just putting everything together so it would look fantastic. The handsome chap had most definitely undermined James's love for Quidditch. This was more that anyone could have possibly even imagined. Sirius didn't even think this real. I just couldn't be. Can people really be that obsessed…?

James sunk down on his bed, a grin prominent on his face. "Thanks. It took me a while to convince Dad to make the ceiling transparent, though. But I really needed it. It adds to the effect, yea?"

Sirius only nodded, glancing around. There were so many things to see. He felt entertained just by being in that room.

"Here, I'll give you a tour," exclaimed the messy-haired boy. "That wall—" He pointed the one in front of him, the one to the right of Sirius and the door. "—Is reserved for Quidditch articles. And this wall—" He pointed to the one behind him, which was full of hanging shelves, "—has all of the latest Quidditch appliances out on the market, except the brooms, of course, they're not appliances. The wall beside you—" he pointed again, "That's also saved for appliances and things that would help you take care of your broom."

It took Sirius a while before he had finally gotten a handle of what James was explaining to him. His head just kept turning around at everything there was in his new friend's room. It was almost like a Quidditch shop! The only difference was that nothing was on sale. The room was filled, even the parts where shelves hung, there were pictures, posters, and wall scrolls hanging behind them so that there wasn't a single spec of wallpaper to be seen. Sirius couldn't even tell if James's had wallpaper. It was impossible to confirm without at least tearing down one or two pictures. There was, however, one part of the room, on the wall between James's two windows at the far end that was empty. It had nothing upon it save for four consecutive hooks up and down the wall in a line.

It took him a while to get to that part of the room, but Sirius noticed the empty spot eventually. James's wallpaper had been a shade of light blue with white. His wallpaper had been sky-colored.

"What's this for?" he questioned, poking at the hooks. "There's a whole set of these hooks…"

James smirked. "That's reserved for my broomstick. I mean, broomsticks."

Sirius stared hard at the hooks on the wall, then to all of the things on the walls, and the finally back at James. "You mean you don't even have a broomstick yet…?"

At this, James lay back on his bed, frowning. "I do have one. Well, I had one, really…" he started, voice growing relatively weaker. "Bloody letter. You know the policy at Hogwarts 'bout brooms, don't you?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Mum thinks that I'll sneak my broom into my luggage and bring it with me to school, so she confiscated it," he scathed, angrily. "Not till second year she tells me. Can you believe her…?"

"Would you sneak it into school?" Sirius asked, raising and eyebrow.

James sat up at this, face unreadable. "Of course I would! I had it all planned out, too."

Sirius couldn't help but laugh again. James was seriously a strange character. The handsome chap couldn't help but find the guy excessively interesting. He had never met anyone as animated and honest with himself as James was. This was the kind of person he wanted to be around. He could get used to having this messy-haired, Quidditch obsessed, eleven-year-old boy as his friend.

"I wish my parents were as giving as yours are," he said, finally, leaning against the pane of the window. "Mine are absolutely… I don't know the word for it. Unforgiving?"

"That bad, huh?" mused James, shrugging. "Don't worry, mate, I'm sure it's they're way of showing affection."

Sirius gave James a look. "You don't know them. They're a lot like Bellatrix. You're lucky not meeting them. Believe me, James."

"I'll take your word for it," chimed James. He paused a moment to walk over to his bed before bringing it up again: "So... exactly why were you in such a rush to leave?"

The messy-haired boy had tried putting off the topic for the longest time, but now, of all times, seemed to be better than never.

Sirius merely shrugged in response, taking a seat on the bed as well. "...Kind of a long story."

"We have all day," quipped the other. He looked down at the floor and blinked, "Quaffle? Are you still awake? Can you put a second mattress here for me?" Crack. It was done; the mattress was laid out on the floor with matching Nimbus Company covers to boot.

Sirius was about to get off of the bed and onto the mattress when James got to it first.

"Who ever said it was for you?" said James, smuggling looking up and the handsome chap. "Now, continue. You were about to explain...?"

The handsome chap couldn't help but laugh. He never figured James to be like this when he first met him in Diagon Alley; it was readable all over his face how delightedly stunned he was. The boy seemed to be a good person to confide in, he felt comfortable here. Ten hundred times better than he ever did in the confines of his home.

"Quite honestly, though," he began, leaning back against the bed. "I don't see why I have to explain it, really. You already met Bellatrix... That should be enough explanation for you. She told my mum that I almost ratted her out to the Ministry, and in turn, I got hell. You know, the typically day in our proud pureblood family—"

"Hey, we're a proud pure blood family, too," interrupted James, frowning. "Did you tell your mum that your cousin was near Knockturn Alley, hurting an innocent person?"

Sirius laughed sarcastically. "Of course I did. But all she said was that Pettigrew had it coming for running into a Black and not showing any respect... Blah, blah, blah... 'Probably and ingrateful half-blood or mudblood!'"

"How does it matter if he's half-blood or from a muggle family? And Pettigrew's pureblood."

"I know, mate," he countered, "But I couldn't even get my mother to stop shouting. When she gets going, you can't stop her. She's like a terrible pixie when she gets mad. My ears are still ringing from the sound of her voice!"


The morning sunlight came in much too early for the two boys that morning. It rolled in through the transparent ceiling and etched through the holes in their blankets. Several times, they tossed and turned in their beds, hoping to get a little more sleep, but to no avail. The light was already piercing through their eyelids.

"One of the disadvantages," grumbled James, sitting up to stretch. "Slept well?"

Sirius yawned loudly. "More or less," he replied, "You're bed's amazingly comfortable."

James pushed his blanket off him, and got up. He had slept on the floor and offered Sirius the bed that morning—he was just trying to be a good host, after all. He kind of struggled to his feet, but somehow managed after a time. He stretched a little more before Mrs. Euphemia Potter came through the door to greet them both a good morning.

"Morning, boys," she said, cheerfully, "Puffle already set the table for you late risers, so you better get to it before she cleans it up. Oh—and this just came." At this she held up a letter. "I believe it's from the other boy you were with yesterday?"

"Pettigrew?"

The two of them walked toward Mrs. Potter and took the letter from her before she wandered out. Sirius opened it, and James unfolded the parchment for them both to read. There wasn't much substance in the letter, and there appeared to some wrong spelling and grammar here and there. Sirius wondered aloud whether or not the boy had been taught at home how to write:

Pott,

I don't think I can come today. Mm sorrie… Tell Black I said hi.

Peter Petigrew

James blinked. "Did he spell his name wrong?"

"Double T, there, I think," agreed Sirius, shrugging. "Shall we write him back?"

Upon hearing that, James's face seemed to light up. "He'd love that, I'm sure. You ought to write it this time, though, mate. He fancies you best, after all."

Sirius seemed to shudder. "Please don't use the word 'fancy' in such an awkward way."

Well, it's only true, thought James, inwardly. This thought made him laugh, but refused to explain himself when Sirius asked what was so amusing. After writing a letter they could both agree on and sending it on its way with Cinder, the two eventually wound their way to the kitchen. The entire way, the two were chatting intensely about practically anything and everything that came to their minds. They were so into their conversation, they had completely forgotten about their empty stomachs until they came upon the filled table. The both of them could almost feel the drool dripping from the sides of their open mouths.

"Well, you should be hungry, it's almost one in the afternoon, boys," exclaimed Fleamont, smiling widely at the two. "Tuck in."

Sirius took the nearest seat to him, while James took the one closest to his father. They tucked in, all right, and they finished it as quickly as they sat down. Mr. Potter couldn't help but watch them as they engulfed a deck of chocolate chip pancakes and waffles with syrup and orange juice. The very next moment, the two were leaning back in their seats, rubbing their full stomachs. It was a good brunch. The two made mental notes to thank Puffle for the wonderful meal.

Getting up from their seats, almost in unison, they took their plates to the sink where Mrs. Potter took their plates and enchanted them to clean themselves. She smiled brightly at the two of them and messed their hair approvingly. Sirius, who wasn't quite used to having his groomed hair messed up by an adult, immediately fixed it afterwards, while James let it be. He grinned widely at his mum and then led the way into the library part of the house.

"No wonder your hair's always a mess," laughed Sirius, still fixing his hair.

James frowned. "That's not my mum's influence. I was born like this—if you can imagine."

The handsome chap seemed to shudder at that thought. "You were born with a full head of hair?"

"According to me Dad I was… This mess," he ruffled his hair, "Even when I cut it or comb it down, it just goes back to being messy again."

"Enchanted hair, you have then, mate. Don't envy you in the least!"

The library area wasn't as big as James would have liked it to be, but it did have a lot of knowledgeable things upon its shelves. He quite wished that his parents hadn't given away some of their books to friends and relatives on birthdays and during Christmas. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were a bit lazy when it came to searching for appropriate gifts. Giving out things they didn't really need anymore, but where still in tiptop condition, were among the things they would do when a close relative reached that certain age. They wouldn't be able to tell the difference anyway.

"You're not a book-hater, are you?" asked James, pulling down a book on Quidditch in Africa. "I tend to spend a lot of time in here."

"I'm not, but my family's doesn't like reading much either," Sirius explained, pulling down a book on Celestial Beings, "Only when they have to. They want news, important things."

James nodded his head, but said nothing in reply. He was already absorbed in the material he had picked out. He stood there moving nothing but his eyes across the page. Sirius was in the same state, though, majority of his book had illustrations. They went on like that for almost four hours straight, moving from book to book, till finally James got his hands on Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Themby Newt Scamander, one that he had already read previously.

"Brilliant," murmured Sirius over James's shoulder, "That's the oldest edition, isn't it?"

The messy-haired boy looked at the book, "You can tell by the look of it, huh? It's pretty beat up—"

"No, I mean, they just released a newer version of it," explained the handsome chap, "It has an introduction by Albus Dumbledore. We had to buy it, remember? It's in our Hogwarts list."

James flipped through the thin book and looked around it, but found nothing written by any Dumbledore person. "Dumbledore, huh? Isn't he Hogwart's new Headmaster?"

"Yeah, pretty cool, right? My mum doesn't think so, though, she fancied Grindelwald..."

They both flipped through the book going back and forth between pages. James couldn't help but point out the few creatures he would both love and hate to meet while Sirius gave minor commentary to each one pointed out.

"I'm beginning to think your mum fancies everything that's strange," started James finally flipping to the second to last page of the book. "Oh! Werewolves. I'll bet it'd be fun to run into one of them."

"Only if you want to get killed," added Sirius, leaning sitting down on the hard, wood floor. "I wonder what Dumbledore's like in person… Must be sinister if he was able to defeat Grindelwald."

"Beyond me, my mum said he's a rather amazing warlock, though."

Night came faster than either of them could have possibly anticipated and, as did the next night and the night after that. Before they knew it was already almost midnight on the fourth day since Sirius's arrival, and Euphemia Potter came in suggesting that they get some earlier shuteye lest they wished to wake up late again. Much to their chagrin, they figured that what Mrs. Potter suggested was right, and they reluctantly put away their books. James had to climb up to the top shelf to put back a book on nifty spells for the common wizard while Sirius waited patiently by the door.

"What do you say to Diagon Alley tomorrow afternoon?" asked James, clambering down. "Maybe Pettigrew can come this time too."

Sirius nodded, turning to walk out of the library as James came up behind him. "Brilliant minds think a like, I say."


It was hard to tell whether or not it was the look on his parents' faces or the strange dream he had the night before that had James frowning the following morning. He didn't seem to be in the right mood for anything that morning, and Sirius was able to tell just by the look at the messy-haired boy's contorted face. He had definitely gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that day. The handsome chap didn't want to go anywhere near James's raging path; he might as well commit suicide instead—it was practically the same thing anyway.

"What do you mean we can't go out?" gapped James, crossing his arms like a little kid.

Euphemia Potter gave a worried glance over at her husband before staring down at her pouting son. The woman had already tried explaining to James the situation, but it seemed like that sort of explanation didn't suit him at all. The Potter boy didn't like being kept away from his original plans, especially when he was going to personally invite Pettigrew over after they met up. But now, all his hopes and excitement had just been shattered like he had taken a bludger right in the kisser. Since when did his parents ever say no to him? To going out? Weren't they the ones who had insisted, only days ago, that he should visit Diagon Alley on his own…?

Sirius put a hand on James's shoulder. "Give it up, mate," he said, sighing, "It's not worth it."

James shrugged off Sirius's comforting hand and glared hard up at his mum and dad.

"Why?" he gasped. "Sirius'll be with me… I'll be good—!"

"Not today, James Ignotus Potter," stated Fleamont, words hard and crisp. The kind of words a child might wince at when he or she knew they were getting scolded. "Do you hear me?"

Knowing that he could not defeat his father in an argument, James retreated back into the library with a very reluctant-looking Sirius following behind. Hazel eyes stared hard back at the door they had just come from as he slumped down onto the far sofa against the wall; James was beginning to throw a temper tantrum.

"Fine!" cried James; so loud that he was sure that his parents could here him in the other room. "Just fine! Sirius 'n I can have loads of fun at home, too. Right, mate?"

The messy-haired boy's words were almost as intimidating as his father's. Sirius could do nothing but nod his head slowly, hoping only for something good to come out of this.

At seeing young Black so 'eager' at having loads of fun at home, James's angered disposition slackened slightly and a soft smile brushed his lips. At least their not being allowed to go hadn't made the handsome chap disappointed or angry. James had been extremely worried that Sirius would hate him because of his parents. After all, he had just made his first Hogwarts friend! He didn't want to lose that even before they went to Hogwarts!

"Arigh'. In that case…Quaffle!" exclaimed James, jumping up. "Quaffle and bat, please!"

At the very instant the boy had finished his sentence, a loud pop resounded in the midst of the library. Sirius jumped at the mere sound of it and instantly began tracing for the whereabouts of the racket. Before the well-groomed boy had come upon the source, however, what James held in his hand caught stole his attention immediately. Just as the messy-haired boy had called for, in his hands he now held a quaffle and what looked to be a Quidditch bat.

"Where the bloody hell did those come from?"

James smirked, but completely ignored Sirius's question. "Up for some Qui-Hitting?"

At this question, Sirius stared. "W-What? Now? Here…?"

"Of course! Where else do yeh think I meant?"

"I don't know," interjected the handsome chap, obviously irritated, "Outside maybe?" There seemed to be a hint of sarcasm somewhere in his words.

James laughed heartily at the other's ignorance. Sirius, on the other hand, frowned profusely.

"Mum said we can't go out, remember?" he recalled, rubbing his chin. "So we can play inside today."

"You're bloody mad, James."

James smirked, tossing the quaffle up and down in his hand. Each time he tossed it, he'd catch it with little effort due to his quick reflexes. He was beginning to flaunt his skills again. "I'm bloody serious," he stated, calmly, before throwing it towards Sirius at full power. The handsome chap barely had a chance to get ready as the ball whizzed at him; had he not caught it at the last second, it would have hit him square in the nose. Putting the quaffle on his lap, Sirius stared dumbfounded at James. I can't believe this! This fool is really serious! He couldn't help but feel the overwhelming sense of 'I-really-don't-think-we-are-allowed-to-do-this' as he watched James swing the large bat around, barely missing the bookshelves by mere centimeters.

"Well, get up, then," urged the messy-haired boy, grinning widely, as he took another swing with the bat. This time it barely missed lowest hanging chandelier in the spacious, yet crowded library. "Wanna play Beater? Or would you rather play chaser—?"

"You're absolutely insane."

"And you think you're not? Com'on! I'm bored."

Sirius's dumbfounded expression went pallid. "You've got to be kidding me... And plus isn't playing Quidditch indoors against your family's house rules, mate?"

At this, James sat down on the floor. He could tell this conversation was going to be a long one. "Maybe for your family," he mused, placing the tip of the bat under his chin so he could rest on it. "I mean, your mum doesn't even allow you to set foot in a Quidditch store for Merlin's sake! My family has no house rules."

"Oh, really?" questioned Sirius, cocking his eyebrow upward. "Then what's that on the wall?"

James casually glanced over at a large painting of a large open book that hung at the far end of the room. It was a beautiful painting, really, and the young Potter boy quite liked it in the library best. For some odd reason, that same type of painting happened to be in every single room of the Potter house, and now that Sirius mentioned it, James hadn't really realized it until that point. He just thought that his parents liked those types of paintings—the kind that doesn't move. They were the only paintings in the house that weren't enchanted. The colors were brilliant enough already; it really allowed the scripted writing to stand out.

"Didn't you even bother reading the script?"

James shrugged. "No. Why? It's just another girly poem, isn't it?"

"That," griped Sirius, pointedly. "Girly poem happens to be your house rules, James. Your parents—probably your mum—just made the things sound poetic. You know, if you at least read the first line James, you'd have realized it. Shall I recite it…? No playing indoors, young Potters…"

As Sirius read on and on, James found himself staring blankly at the painting itself. All the information the handsome chap had just told him had to be some sort of mistake. He had never heard about any of this before! He'd been living in this house for almost eleven and a half years, and he hadn't noticed…?

"…And lastly, I tell you, young boys and girls, the things you do in life may lead to great misfortune, but hold your head up high and keep your chin straight. There will come a time when these rules shall come in great use to you—James? Mate, you feeling alright?" Just as Sirius was about to finish the poetic household rules he saw out of the corner of his eyes that James had begun to shake uncontrollably. Startled, he rushed over to the messy-haired boy and placed his hands on James's shoulders: his eyes were staring out blankly towards the painting. "James! James! Snap out of it!"

There was no response. James's head moved about limply as he was shook and Sirius had half a mind to rush over to get Mr. and Mrs. Potter until he finally saw the light shine back in those hazel eyes.

"James, mate, are you still with me?"

Hearing Sirius's voice, James raised his head and gripped the other's arm, hard. He almost looked like he was about to cry.

"W-What's wrong?"

He sniffed softly. "I-I didn't know…"

"Know what, James, what?"

"We have rules!" After expelling his emotions, James began to wail. "This is the worst! Though, it's not like I'll follow them... but still..."

Sirius let out a loud sigh of relief and fell back on the hardwood floor. Rolling his eyes, the handsome chap couldn't help but laugh cynically. "I kind of feeling like wailing myself, mate. You're giving me the worst headache of my life. You and your selfish mood swings!"

James stopped wailing, and looked back at Sirius. He grinned widely this time, obviously proud of himself. He had made Sirius so worried about him after all. He never thought the young heir to the Black family name would stoop low enough to be concerned with the likes of himself. Normally real pureblood families only lived for themselves. They'd take pleasure in your utter demise, and only coax it. James could tell that Sirius wasn't that kind of person. Even though he had just been fooling around, the messy-haired boy actually found out something he hadn't expected to find out. Sirius could actually have the qualities of a Gryffindor… he thought with a smile. If only lineage had nothing to do with what house you'd be sorted in to. James would have done anything in whole world to get the handsome chap into the same house as him. It would make things a lot easier between them, anyway.


"What did Pettigrew say?"

James shrugged, placing the letter on top of the small pile of other letters from Peter. He shook his head at Sirius, and then sunk back on the wooden floor of the owlery.

It was already the sixth day since Sirius's first arrival at the Potter house, and the young Black had just about run out of clothes to wear. He would only have one pair of pajamas for the night and one last clean shirt, pants, and other personal wear items for tomorrow before he'd have to head home. Because of this, they were really hoping that young Peter would be allowed to spend at least one night over before the vacation came to an end. Sure, they had been sending owls back and forth (so much so that Cinder was getting her daily exercise doubled), but both James and Sirius were really adept to getting Pettigrew to come over.

"Yeh think he hates us?" asked Sirius, flipping through the stack of letters.

"Maybe," sighed James, messing with his hair again. "We ought to make it up to him, don't you think? When we get to Hogwarts, I mean."

Sirius frowned. "Do we have to?" James gave him the look, and Sirius backed off the topic immediately. "I was only kidding, mate. Anyway, I'm sure Pettigrew would—"

Thud! Something from the other room had fallen. The two boys looked at each other and then back towards the entrance of the library, peering as much as they could into the other room as they the doorway permitted. They stared at the open doorway for a few brief seconds before engaging in another round of conversation when—

"Darling!" Mrs. Potter screamed from the other room. The urgency in her voice made James jump up; he had never heard his mother's voice so shaken before. "D-Darling, Darling! Are you all right…?"

Without even saying a word to Sirius, James rushed out of the library and down the hallway. His head turned to look into each room he passed and didn't stop until he came upon the open doorway in which he spied both his mother and father.

"Fleamont… " Murmured Euphemia, helping her husband onto the couch. "…What happened? Was this at the Ministry? Or was it—"

"I'm afraid so," he replied, "Yesterday's incident and now this—?" Fleamont suddenly stopped mid-sentence the moment his hazel eyes locked with his son's. "Oh—James, didn't see you there."

By this time, Sirius had come around too, so the two boys went inside together. James's eyes remained fixed on his father's. They were accusing eyes. Probing eyes. It was obvious to anyone that the boy wanted to know what had just happened. His father had just come home from work… but something had happened. Why'd they stop talking as soon as they saw me…? He couldn't figure it out.

"Is he all right?" Sirius asked Mrs. Potter, "We heard you screaming from the library."

Fleamont gave his wife a sharp look, an obvious sign to be careful with her words. James understood the look without even having to ask.

"I-It was nothing," she said, fumbling with her hands. "He just collapsed—"

"What happened at the Ministry?" questioned James, trying to get to the heart of where the problem lay.

This question brought silence between all of them. Fleamont and Eumphemia looked away from each other, completely unwilling to spill the news to their too-young-a-son. Sirius, on the other hand, was completely lost. He was beginning to feel a little out of place now. Not really knowing what to do, he shrunk back behind James to allow their son to take handle this situation. It wasn't his place to interfere anyway. This was a Potter problem. A Black shouldn't intervene…

"Sirius," said James, steadily, "Shall we go see if the mail's in?"

Sirius's mouth dropped. "What?"

"Mother, Father," the messy-haired boy grabbed Sirius by the wrist, "I beg you'll excuse us. We shall go fetch the mail so it's not so much a hassle for you." He sounded like too much of a good little boy; it was beginning to gross even Sirius out.

After excusing himself, he raced out of the room, with Sirius dragging along behind, at an even faster pace than when he had heard his mother's scream with. At the time he had heard the loud thud and his mother's panicked voice, James had felt a slight bit of reluctance while searching for them. Half of him wanted to know what happened, but the other half was little unsure about knowing whether or not something had happened to his father. He didn't want to see his father hurt.

This time, however, was a totally different story. The boy's whole being wanted to know now. Not even a fraction of him was unsure or nervous. He wanted to know what his parents were trying to hide from them. From their very own son. His curiosity had peaked considerably since yesterday.

The two sped off toward the owlery, well; actually, Sirius was barely able to keep up with James. The boy's glasses nearly fell off the bridge of his nose as he quite literally ran through the hallways of his house. He was scrambling to get to upstairs! Being tugged along, Sirius nearly tripped a few times and even hit his shoulder on the wall as they turned one of the corners. Whatever James was after, he in too much of a hurry for the handsome chap to even pass a word through to him.

"Slow down!" Sirius cried, missing the enchanted grandfather clock by a hair. "Why are you in such a hurry to get that blasted mail anyway?"

The other didn't respond. James's mind was in too much of a panic to even comprehend the letters in each word his 'luggage' has cried out. His silence really began to infuriate the one being dragged along. Just as Sirius was about to hit James on the side of the head to snap out of it, they came to an abrupt stop. They had finally arrived at the Potter owlery. They had been moving so fast that when James stopped suddenly, Sirius was thrown at his feet.

James blinked. "Huh? Did you say something, mate?"

Sirius cast a dark look up at James. "What's the big deal? Just why are you in such a hurry to get the BLASTED mail?"

As Sirius struggled to his feet, James walked near to the place where Cinder was situated. In a box, just to the left of his owl, was a small bin marked 'INBOX' already semi-filled with letters of all shapes and sizes. Quickly and swiftly, he sifted through the letters as though he was looking for something. It didn't take long to find what he had been looking for. As soon as he caught sight of it, he pulled it up and spread it out on the floor for the both of them to see.

"That isn't…" muttered Sirius kneeling down next to James, "The Daily Prophet? We sprinted all the way up here to read the news?" He smacked James upside the head before grunting.

"Relax, mate, we didn't just come up here to read," James grumbled back, scanning the paper right to left and then up and down. "There must be something in this paper that'll tell about that little secret me mum and dad have been trying to hide. If something's up with the Ministry of Magic, it'd be in the news, right? I'll bet you five galleons that's the reason why we weren't allowed out yesterday."

Sirius shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have five galleons on me. You're speaking with the only broke child in the Black family, just so you know."

James tried concealing a smile at that thought, but his efforts were poorly carried out. The handsome chap hit him on the side of the head once more for good measure.

"Sirius, have a look at this!"

Frowning, Sirius followed obediently and glanced down at the article the messy-haired boy had pointed out with his finger. The headline read 'COUPLE FOUND DEAD'. The headline, itself, was enough to make the hair on the back of their necks rise. An innocent couple had been found dead…? When? Where? What did that have anything to do with them or the Ministry, for that matter? There was nothing else in the Prophet that indicated any source of alarm…

"Hey, James," whispered Sirius, mouth slightly dropped. "Says here they found seven unidentified muggle bodies at the scene too…"

James blinked. "Muggles?" He began skimming through the article for any other interesting facts, and he quickly came across it. "Charing Cross Road? Isn't Leaky Cauldron on that road? No wonder mum… Honestly, though, what does this have to do with—Oy, Sirius?"

It seemed like it was young Black's turn to suddenly turn pale. His dark eyes grew wide with utter horror, never leaving the sight of the article. It wasn't a joke this time, though, and James could tell. Sirius looked almost frightened and yet invigoratingly repulsed out of his wits. The messy-haired boy wasn't going to joke around about it this time.

"What is it, mate?"

Sirius slowly turned his head towards James, eyes still wide with horror. "I think it's about time I went home, James."


DUN. DUN. DUUUUN!

Platform Nine and Three Quarters


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