As a consequence for being the child of elderly people who often invited more elderly people over, James had to put up with lots of advice. Old men and women would look back on their own lives, on their own regrets, and decide to impart some sort of wisdom upon the child in front of them, becausesurely the next generation would learn from their mistakes. Most of it was useless and vague drivel.

"You'll never figure out women, don't even try."

"Stay in school and don't do drugs. And stay abstinent."

"Never fear anything except the fear of... the fear of... Or is it...? Well, never mind, just don't fear anything, lad!"

His father gave him useful advice, at least.

"There's always a way to win, James. Always."

"Don't take shit from anybody, even if you get fucked up the arse for retaliating." He had told his son this at the age of six. His mother provided an hour long counter-lesson that never stuck.

"There is a line between right and wrong, James, but one man's right is another man's wrong. Find you side of the line and stick to it like a phoenix to flame."

But while Harold Potter favored the direct approach, knowing that his son's attention could only be held for so long, Charlotte preferred to give out her wisdom in cryptic analogies. Anything that pertained to daily life could be made brief- "Never curse in front of a woman, James"- but subjects that dealt with real meaning were drawn out. She was under the impractical impression that it was better if her son figured out the lesson for himself, so it would stick with him longer.

Later in life, she would be under the impression that James was studying French with Valerie in his bedroom for an hour.

But however misguided Charlotte's attempts were, they did at least succeed at occupyingJames' mind for five minutes. They were forgotten after that, but, even if he could not recall the exact wording of one of her analogies, he did remember the circumstances.

He had been running upstairs to get his broom to play Quidditch with some neighborhood boys when his mother had called him into the dining room. She was drinking a glass of wine and playing with her gray curls. In front of her was a closed file, one James recognized to be from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement by the magenta label. She had turned to him, abandoning the chess game that she was playing with his father.

"You know, James- most people are pawns. Forever trying to promote, to make something of themselves. But hardly any ever make it to the other end of the board, do they, honey? Most are used for other pieces to travel forward, thrown aside before they reach their potential. They deserve to try, though. Every pawn deserves to stay on that board for as long as possible, and it is a horrendous thing to take one off, or to watch someone else do so. You have to make an effort to salvage every piece. You must be willing to save every pawn, knight, or bishop, even if they are black and you are white."

James' father had rolled his eyes and gestured for him to go and play. At the time, James had only been thankful that it was his father who taught him chess, not his mother. But it didn't matter- James had already become a person who would lay down his king for another's pawn. The two minutes standing beside the dining room table, listening to his mother ramble about chess, had been a waste.

Besides, he had always liked card games better.

James heard the crack and recognized it instantly as the sound of a bone breaking. The scream that followed was petrified and agonizing; it resounded through the Shack, only multiplying the impression of pain as it pulled James through the hole and into the house.

He saw blood- the first scarlet drops began at the entrance, right below his feet, and ended at a pool below Snape. His leg was twisted at a hair-raising angle, blood seeping from open wounds throughout his body as he pitifully pulled himself to the exit. Fear was dripping from his face just as fluidly as the tears of pain, his frantic efforts getting him no where.

"Snape!" James cried, running forward, but froze as something emerged from behind the staircase.

Its growl hung low in its throat, coaxing both boys to stillness. Its paws set a pace that was leisurely and controlled, one James knew to be predatory. The hair at the end of its tail swept the matted filth on the floor as it swung back and forth, rhythmical to the pace its paws had set. It barred its teeth for both show and tell, breathing heavily as the eyes switched between the crawling prey on the floor to the new, standing one that had only just entered. James knew that werewolves couldn't think coherently while transformed, but he could hear Remus' voice in his head.

Who first? Access the situation, identify the largest threat.

The glare settled on him. Snape wasn't going anywhere.

James knew better than to run. He was no match for it on two legs. He glanced quickly at Snape as he took a cautionary step backwards, wand raised. Should he transform? He knew he could control the wolf as a stag, and the familiar animal might calm it down. But Snape already knew so much, and it was a definite ticket to Azkaban if he was discovered. No, if at all possible, he would do this as a human.

"Stupefy!"

The red jet of light erupted out of James' wand, sending the wolf flying into the wall. The feeble wooden boards shook as it landed, but James had barely taken a step before it stood back up.

"Incarcerous!"

Ropes appeared out of thin air, wrapping around the wolf's body tightly. It fell to the floor, the binds making it impossible for it to balance. James knelt beside Snape, trying to pull up the dead weight, but then there was a large snap.

It had bitten through the cord covering its mouth, and the legs easily shuffled out of the ropes after. James stood shakily, raising his wand again. The curse was created for humans, not animals, it wasn't structured to handle the wolf's strength and body shape.

The wolf howled, poised for the attack.

"Pertificus Total-"

But his voice was too slow. James hit the ground,its claws digging through his robes and sinking into his flesh, his wand jerked out of his hand and landing far out of reach. He struggled beneath it, but its weight alone was enough to sink its claws further into his body. Warm musky breath washed over his face as it growled in a hopeless victory. James jerked his body in one last, futile effort, only to feel a sharp pain in his hand.

He turned towards it instinctively, his hand smeared in blood with the remains of a Firewhiskey bottle surrounding it.

James leaned down and picked up his bottle, finishing off the last of it, unable to look at any of the Marauders except in his peripherals. He threw the bottle against the wall, the shards landing in an alarmingly ordered pile.

He did not remember thinking it, but the action had been carried out on pure survival instinct before James could process anything but the cut on his hand. The glass sunk deep into the palm of his hand as he snatched it from the ground, the hot blood burned a path down his arm as he sunk it into the side of the wolf. It yelped, tumbling away from James and the pain.

He turned on his stomach, crawling desperately to his wand only feet away. The shard detached itself from one hand as he fumbled with his wand with the other, but then there was an unbearable pain in his calf. He screamed, the sound ringing the same way that Snape's had.

James resisted the urge to turn around and see what had happened, trying to pull himself to his wand, but he was inexplicably pinned to the ground.

Accio. !

He felt the wolf behind him.

ACCIO!

His wand flew into his hand. James swiveled around, brandishing his wand wildly.

IMPEDIMENTA!

The wolf flew back, and his calf was free to move, though it was suddenly encased in thick blood as his injury was exposed. James gasped in pain, but ignored it temporarily, flicking his wand upwards and thinking the first incantation that came to mind.

Fire spread across the floor, enclosing the wolf in a circle of high orange flames. It stood, searching for an exit, but when it found none is growled loudly and paced inside, not taking its eyes from James.

He rose to his feet, unsteady on his right leg. He limped over to Snape, keeping one eye on the dark form behind the flames. Sinking to the ground beside him, James turned Snape over. He was unconscious, no doubt from blood loss or trauma.

"Ferula!"

Bandages wrapped themselves into place around Snape's leg, the snap of his leg being jerked back into place sickly. The white fabric began to instantly turn red.

He cast a Summoning Charm for Snape's wand, but nothing came, so he figured it must've been broken somehow during the attack. James levitated Snape, struggling towards the hole in the wall, but stopped to look back at the wolf.

Remus.

As he stared at the creature behind the flames, he realized that the injuries he'd given the wolf would remain there when he returned to human form in the morning, and they'd be much more devastating then. He couldn't just leave it there, not when it would be Remus surrounded by deadly flames at sunrise.

He let Snape down, though not very gently, and approached the fire. His heart raced, and he could feel more sweat being caked on to his back, his clothes already sticking. He breathed out to try to calm down, but he couldn't shake the realization that he was willingly facing death again.

"Finite!"

The fire died instantly, the wolf pounced, James let his wand fall to the floor-

And the wolf landed harshly into a set of antlers.

James' head rang with the impact, but he stared down the wolf from above as it crumpled to the floor. Remus had always seen the Marauders transform before him, as a precaution, so the wolf could've never known that James and the stag were the same, the harming one would mean harming the other.

The werewolf stood, circling the stag, the wound still dripping blood heavily on the floor. James could hear it sniffing, and he prepared himself to kick or turn if he felt any attack. But the wolf appeared on his other side, far from a puppy greeting its master, but obviously not bent on his destruction.

Now, for the risk.

James transformed back, his hair on end as he reached down, picked up his wand as fast as possible, and rose.

The wolf growled softly, apparently confused as what to do next. James wished he'd hurry up and decide- both him and Snape were losing blood. It stepped forward, and James swallowed the curse he'd been about to yell. He exhaled heavily, relaxing his body as much as possible. It circled him again, sniffing, but this time he had no defense of hooves or antlers. Its muzzle hovered near his ear, growling. James froze.

God, I'm an idiot.

He would trust Remus with his life, with anyone's life, because Remus was his mate and that was that. But this wolf, this animal hovering near his ear was not him. It was something else that shared the same body with Moony, but did not hold any other part of James' friend, of James' brother.

He felt the air shift around his ear.

James ducked and spun in the same motion, hearing the jaws snap above his head. "STUPEFY!"

The wolf flew back, as before, but he hit the boarded door rather than the wall. The body sunk to the ground, unsettling dust as it slumped against the door as the walls shook around it.

Snape moaned.

James' head turned to see Snape's lying form in the tunnel, unmoving, though apparently awakening. He looked back at the wolf on the floor, equally still, though he could see from there that it was breathing evenly.

He sneaked forward as fast as he could with his useless calf. The wolf did not wake as James approached it. There was a large dent in the thick wood of the door, the wolf's eyes were firmly closed. It'd been knocked out.

"Ferula!"

White bandages wrapped around the wolf's wound tightly. James didn't look back as he staggered to the opening in the wall again, his heart keeping the same frantic pace. He wasn't going to wait for it to stop.

James jolted back to consciousness and a blurry world. Someone had removed his glasses. For a moment he was convinced that he had passed out during the grueling trip to the castle. But then his brain fast forwarded through the mud-slicked journey to collapsing in the Entrance Hall, Sirius hoisting him through the doors to the hospital wing, and falling asleep as soon as he hit the sheets.

His calf was still in pain, but it was heavy and tingling. His ankle was stiff, he must have fractured it while walking up to the castle. James fumbled on the nightstand beside his bed, not for his glasses, but for water.

"Little farther."

James turned, seeing a blur of black hair, but it was unnecessary for recognition. He knew that voice since he was eleven, since he shared a compartment with that kid with the long hair and mature face. And as much as James wanted to sympathize with that voice, to agree with him and tell him that it was cool, that he'd fixed the problem, something else came out.

"You fucking asshole."

He didn't need his glasses to know that Sirius' eyes would not shift downward in shame like everyone else's, but stare back at him as he waited for more. James had always admired it, like no matter what you said to Sirius it didn't get to him, he could just bounce it off. But it was this that infuriated him now. If Sirius still didn't realize what he'd done, then James would make him see it.

"You risked everything! What the hell were you thinking when you told Snape? He knows, Sirius, he knows what Remus is! He knows and he's going to tell the whole fucking school what happened, Remus will never be able to..."

He went silent, his own words sinking in. At the time, James had only considered that Snape could die, which was motivation enough, but now he realized the undeniable gravity of the situation. Remus would never be able to finish school, let alone get a job. Hiring a werewolf was already shaky footing, but one with a record of attacking a student? Remus would never be establish himself if he didn't go to Azkaban first, he'd have to live his whole life without any source of income at all. James had always been happy to "loan" his friend the money, but Remus' pride would step in at some point, he wouldn't accept it, and... what had Sirius done?

"Snape could have died. He would've, if I hadn't been there. Remus would have killed him, Sirius, and I get that you don't give a flying fuck about his life, but can you imagine what killing someone would do to Remus? Why-?"

"I don't need the speech, okay?" Sirius suddenly interrupted.

"If you didn't need it, we wouldn't be here! People could have DIED, SIRIUS!" James yelled, losing all control of his voice. He was so furious that Sirius, the Marauder he considered the closest, would betray them all for a little fun. The fact was that this cut had been deep, that it had torn a part of their friendship so sacred that James didn't know how they could just shrug it off like he did all the other fights. No matter how loud James was, he couldn't voice this meaning, it was something beyond words and inflection. "What were you thinking?"

"God, you sound just like my father!"

"Fuck you!"

"Okay, Dorcas."

"Is everything a joke to you? Don't you realize-?"

"How come you've lost your sense of humor? I get it, your mum died, but that doesn't mean that you have to fly completely off the handle! You need to deal with it!"

"What does my mum have to do with anything? This is about-"

"Your mum has everything to do with it. You haven't been the same."

"Well, yeah, when you watch your mum die it tends to put a bit of a damper on things, mate, I'm sorry that I wasn't ready to prank Snivellus the second we got back to Hogwarts! Just so I know, when my dad decides you kick the bucket, how long of a mourning period would be good for you?"

"Come on, man, don't be like that."

James stared at Sirius' blur, breathing heavily, marveling that Madam Pomfrey hadn't rushed in the moment they had started shouting. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the argument to continue, but when Sirius didn't say anything he turned his head to the nightstand to look for the muddled black of his glasses.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said.

And just like that, he was forgiven. James felt weak for giving in so easily, before Sirius had even explained why, but he couldn't help it. His loyalty was unshakable, and as long as Sirius cared enough to apologize, that was enough. He could now cross an already burned bridge, if it was for Sirius. He grabbed his glasses, jamming them on his face and turning to face him.

"I know that Remus is screwed because of me. I know that you and Snape could have died. It was just that at the time, it seemed like a really good idea. He's always trying to get us in trouble and all, and then you were talking some shit about how just cursing Snivellus wasn't enough and I just... I'm sorry."

He understood. This had been Sirius' final attempt to cheer up him, to get him back to the old James. Sirius had been trying to pull a prank for ages with him, and James had insisted, like an idiot, that they were "above that now", that they should move on to bigger things. It didn't make it right, or even acceptable, but... he let it go. He pushed it aside, because even this couldn't ruin Sirius and James. They were brothers, loyalty more binding than blood.

Or some shit like that.

"It's okay," James said. "Besides, it's not me you should be apologizing to. You're gonna have a lot of groveling to do with Moony. Good thing you're a dog, eh?"

Sirius grinned. "Tosser," he jibed, punching James loosely in the arm. James matched his smirk, filling his familiar role of best mate and not enemy.

"Where's Peter?" he asked before finally gulping down mouthfuls of water.

"Bathroom. He's been holding his piss for about six hours, ever since we brought you here, so he was in some slight discomfort." James snorted, water flowing down his pajamas.

"Urgh," he said, looking down at the spill as Sirius laughed. "I hate waking up in the hospital wing's pajamas. I know she does it with magic, but I always feel like Pomfrey undressed me herself."

"Nah, Evans came in here and did that," Sirius said.

"Oh, shut it. Wanker."

"Arsehole."

"Fucker."

"Arse fucker."

"That doesn't count, you just combined the last two insults, you didn't come up with your own!"

"It's called ingenuity. You should try it sometime," Sirius said with a wink.

"Stop trying to hit on me, pole sucker."

"Yeah, your beauty just overcame me. How's that working with Evans, by the way?"

"Shut it."

"How come every time I bring up Evans you just tell me to shut it? Can't you think of anything else to say?"

"I don't want to be with her anyways," James confessed.

"Right," Sirius said disbelievingly. "So... are you recovered enough to sneak out?"

James chuckled. "Only if our first stop is the kitchens. I'm starved. Turns out saving a git's arse can take a lot out of you."

They both smirked as Sirius helped James out of bed, whom was barely able to stand unless Sirius was supporting him. They made it all the way to the door, passing an unconscious Snape, before James' eyelids began to droop. He insisted he wasn't tired, but Sirius had barely dragged him down the corridor before he passed out, thinking for perhaps the only time in his life, that holding grudges wasn't among his strengths.