"Prongs, where in the name of Merlin do you think you're going?"
"Sirius, let him go…"
"Really, though, where is he going in the middle of the back-to-school feast?"
James heard his friends whispering behind his back as he left the Gryffindor table and strode as quickly as he could (without running) out of the hall, and without knocking over any of the first-year students who had yet to be Sorted. He could feel the family ring on his left hand still burning as he clenched his fists, sprinting up to his private quarters in the common room. Once he had reached the familiar fireplace and the large four-poster bed that would be his for the rest of the term, he slammed the oaken door shut and threw open his trunk to find the two-way mirror that he and his parents now used to communicate, since Prongs had given the Potters his side of the device because he and James were inseparable at Hogwarts and had no need for it.
"Mum? Dad?" he was almost shouting into the reflective surface, only seeing himself. There was no sign of his parents, even though they had promised to always remain together and to contact him any time the "Dark Lord" and his followers showed movement, or if they were in any danger. The only reason that damn ring would start trying to burn his hand off the instant he arrived at Hogwarts would be if one of his parents… No, there was no way that they would be that reckless with their lives. If only he could see somebody else's face in the mirror…
"James?" a voice he barely recognized suddenly hit his ears, immediately opening his eyes and grabbing the damn device off the floor where he had tossed it seconds before. "Mum? Is that you? What happened, is anyone hurt? Tell me everything! I can go to Dumbledore, McGonagall, I could leave tonight if you need me to help you, what can I do, please say that Dad's okay! Was it Voldemort? What's going on?" His mother looked battered, bruised and shocked, with a small cut on her cheek and a rip in her favorite housedress. "James… You need to stay at Hogwarts, please. That's the safest place in the Wizarding world right now…" she was cut off by a bout of coughing from somewhere beyond the limits of the mirror. "Charlus, please stay with me, I need you to stay with me…" Dorea Potter looked at her son through the silver glass, tears brimming in her eyes. "Jamie, I need to take your father to St. Mungo's. You-Know-Who's followers were attacking Muggles in King's Cross Station, we did what we could to fight them off, but he's badly injured… They were using spells we had never heard of before. I can't tell you any more right now, but I can owl you once we get this sorted out. I love you, and promise me you will stay at Hogwarts!" James was struggling to process how all of this could have happened so quickly- he had been with his parents only this morning. He nodded, unable to make any words come out of his throat where they seemed to be stuck. "And James, one more thing- keep close to poor Sirius. I think I saw one of our cousins- on the Black side- fighting on the side of Death Eaters. Just make sure he doesn't do anything more reckless than usual, please. I love you, I have to go! Keep this mirror with you at all times. Goodbye!" and his mother's face vanished from the cold glass in his quaking fingers. James dropped the mirror, taking off his glasses and covering his face in one motion as his entire body began to shake with large, terrible sobs. James Potter was not one to cry, but there is always a first time for everything.
As soon as all of the first-years had been Sorted and Dumbledore had named her and James as Head Boy and Girl, Lily politely excused herself from the Gryffindor table with a large plate of food and a whisper to a prefect to make sure that their new students were properly led into the common room later. "What are you doing?" hissed Remus as she frantically began to gather together some food and utensils. "Just let me go talk to him, it'll be fine!" she whispered back, climbing over the bench and out of the Hall. She knew her friend well enough to look for him in his private quarters, understanding the comfort of a warm fire and bed in times of stress. When James had practically sprinted from the feast, she had managed to cover up his disappearance with a couple of well-chosen sentences about "Head duties" and "planning a surprise for the new Gryffindors", which she knew she would now have to plan so as not to disappoint. As she made her way up to their rooms, however, she had nothing of the sort on her mind. What could have caused James to vanish not ten minutes into the best feast of the year? She knew he secretly adored his duties as Head, and most certainly would not have abandoned an entirely new crop of young lions to intimidate and scare and take right under his wing on the relatively short journey from the Great Hall to the portrait at Gryffindor Tower.
When Lily Evans herself arrived there on this night, the Fat Lady immediately let her in (a nice perk of being Head Girl- no need to identify herself anywhere), and she rushed up the set of stairs to hers and James' bedrooms. His door was unlocked and barely ajar, and she could hear no sounds from within, but she tread lightly nonetheless, making sure the cutlery she had hastily snatched from the feast was still balanced on the platter she carried (Sirius had been properly offended when she had grabbed almost the entire plate of mashed potatoes out from under his fork). Pushing open the solid mass of wood that creaked no matter how gently she touched it, she crept into the Head Boy's room. By sneaking-into-boys'-rooms standards, this was hardly how she imagined it should be, but by helping-a-friend-in-distress standards, she thought she was doing a bloody fine job, if you asked her! The lamps were turned down, but Lily could just make out a body lying in front of the flickering fireplace. She couldn't tell if it was the light from the flames, but it seemed as though he was shaking.
"James? It's Evans. I know you missed the feast, but I stole us some mashed potatoes and a bit of the roast, so that we could have a proper dinner. Can I help?" James would tell her if he needed any help, she knew that much about him, so she refrained from asking what had caused his hasty departure from the Sorting Ceremony.
Without seeing any movement, she heard him whisper "did I just hear Lily Evans say the word 'stole' in a positive context? Seventh year stress must already be settling in, huh?" The words, though delivered with typical Potter-sarcasm (she was thinking of marketing that phrase), were quiet and almost lifeless. It was if something or someone had knocked the wind out of James and left him to rot in front of a dying fire, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. It almost brought tears to her eyes- she had never seen him quite this helpless before. There was nothing she could think of to do but busy herself around his room. Stoking the fire gave her hands something to do, as did tidying up his trunk and placing it neatly beside his bed. When she turned back around, James Potter was sitting up against his wardrobe, replacing his square glasses on his face, and running a tremulous hand through his hair. Lily sat down next to him, handed the Head Boy a fork, and commenced to eat some of the stolen roast, waiting patiently for him to say something- anything. About five minutes passed in this way when James suddenly blurted out-
"It's my dad. He was attacked by Voldemort's followers and he's in St. Mungo's and I'm not allowed to leave Hogwarts and see him and Sirius' cousin is a Death Eater and that means his family is involved which means my family is involved did I ever tell you I'm his mother's cousin and oh God Evans the full moon is this week and I honestly don't know what to do and we're Head Boy and Girl and Quidditch tryouts start on Monday and... I don't know what to do." His head hung low as he said these last words, and Lily instinctively threw her arm around his shoulder.
"Oh, James... I'm so sorry about all of this... That's too much for one of you to handle." Lily had learned long ago that When James Potter was upset, he didn't want someone to offer him suggestions until he was ready for them- he just wanted an empathetic listener, and that was something she could be for him. On the inside, however, her brain was running wild, thinking of going to McGonagall and Dumbledore and telling them that James needed to go to the hospital, even though they most likely already knew, and checking with Marlene to see if she could hold tryouts for Quidditch if need be (Merlin knew that Gryffindor needed a win this year), and that she might have to talk to Sirius about his family tree, and that Remus was going to have a sleepless night this week, how was she going to keep everyone safe without James? But none of this could be said out loud. Thankfully, September 1st had fallen on a Thursday this year, so they would have no classes for the next 3 days. That gave her plenty of time.
"James, I wish I could help you, but right now I'm only prepared with steak and some mashed potatoes... Oh! Do you want me to ring for a house-elf? You must be hungry by now, you've been up here so long!" When he slowly nodded his head, pulling himself together enough to sit up again, find a form, and begin to slowly pick at the plates she had brought, Lily stood up and pulled the cord at the side of the fireplace, whereupon a tiny elf appeared almost instantly from seemingly nowhere.
"Miss Evans, how kindly of you to request our services on this first night of term! What will Miss Evans and Mister Potter be requiring tonight? Is Mister Potter quite alright, miss? He seems troubled, if it's not too much for Tilly to say, miss." The elf cut quite a figure in a crisp teacloth emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest, bowing and swooping at the sight of the Head Boy and Girl. Lily grinned- something about the house-elves always made her smile.
"Just some pumpkin juice, please, Tilly. And maybe some bread and some stuffing as well? And perhaps a few desserts, if it's not too much trouble! James here has had quite a night." Lily asked as politely as possible. She was riled up to the point that her fingers were slightly trembling, but she knew the elves had to be treated politely, if there was any hope to be had of real food coming their way.
"Would treacle suffice, miss? And perhaps a few tarts? And I shall find a potion for Mister Potter's nerves, miss. Thank you for your requests!" And Tilly was off in a snap.