The Sorting is stressful for some first-years. It never was for James. Even at eleven, he was sure of himself, and had made friends with Sirius Black within five minutes on the train while other first-years were too nervous to introduce themselves. He'd been expecting the Sorting ceremony, although he had heard rumors about wrestling a troll, so he felt no need to comment with McGonagall set down the stool and the hat.
The Hat agonized over Sirius' decision for quite a while, but eventually placed him in Gryffindor. James had cheered louder than any other first-year, making sure that Sirius had saved him a seat like he'd asked. Some of the older students had noticed the scrawny bespectacled boy, the one standing calmly while the students around him shook and gnawed on their fingernails. One had pointed to him and said, "Born Gryffindor. Care to put five Galleons otherwise?"
His mate hadn't been stupid enough to take that bet.
When James was finally called, he'd sat down on the stool, feet dangling, with as much confidence as a king on his thrown. McGonagall had dropped the Hat on his head. He'd expected an instant decision, but the Hat decided to whisper something in his ear first.
"Merlin, they couldn't give me a simpler choice."
And since then, James hadn't done anything to prove the Hat wrong. He was practically the poster boy for Gryffindor- brave, impulsive, noble, daring, confident, hot-headed, and with a knack for winning. He'd been taught that Gryffindor was the best house, that even the negative qualities of those within it were to be preferred.
What he hadn't realized yet was that the weaknesses of a lion were the ones most easily exposed.
"So- did you fuck her?"
James usually sat with his team and discussed last-minute strategy the morning of a match, but Diggory had coincidentally decided to sit with Lily again during breakfast. Not about to discuss tactics within any sort of hearing range of the Hufflepuff Keeper, James had shouted at his team to eat while touching nothing himself, and then retreated to the end of the table with the Marauders. Regardless of his empty stomach, he felt it lurch at Sirius' question.
"W-what?" he asked stupidly, though he knew perfectly well what Sirius had said.
"Did you shag Lizzy last night?" Peter clarified.
"Well, yeah," he admitted. "Why? Is she looking over here?"
"Yes," Remus answered, scooping eggs on his plate. "She doesn't look angry, though. More day-dreamy."
James groaned. "Shit."
"How is this a bad thing?" Sirius asked, practically consuming an entire plate in three mouthfuls.
"The shagging isn't a bad thing, don't be daft," James said. "But I knew that it was a bad idea to shag her last night, but I haven't had sex in months. It's just... now she's gonna expect something outta me, right, Moony?"
Remus sighed, but he'd been resigned to his role of advisor for years now. "If by 'expecting something outta you', you mean that she's going to want to be more serious, then I'd expect so. Lizzy doesn't strike me as the shag and run type of bird."
"Look, Prongs," Sirius said, adopting a paternal tone while he slung his arm around James' shoulders. "It's not that difficult. Just play the line between a serious relationship and a casual one for the next few weeks, get a couple shags, and then split."
"Yeah, that's a fantastic plan, Padfoot," James began sarcastically, "except for the fact that she's on the team. Our last match is at the end of May, and I can't risk breaking my team."
"She'll have almost three months to get over it if you do it soon," Remus pointed out. "Your team unity should be fine. Just get a move on. It's not like you really fancy her anyway."
"That's not true," James objected, though clearly with not as much passion as usual. "I do fancy her. Just-"
"Yeah, yeah, we get it. You're a good guy, blah, morals, blah," Sirius said, waving his hand impatiently. "Was she any good? She looks like she could take a rough fuck, you know, and-"
"Come on, that's Prongs' girl you're talking about, mate," Peter cut in. "I don't think you can just say that about her-"
"She can take a rough fuck, Padfoot's right. Why would I be bothered?" James said. "It's just an obser-"
"Good luck, James!"
He turned as somebody patted his shoulder, but a mass of people was moving behind him to the pitch. Had he not recognized the voice, he wouldn't have any inclination who it was.
"Since when has Evans been on a first-name basis with you?" Peter asked, eyebrows furrowed. "And isn't she still dating Diggory?"
James shrugged. "Gryffindor comes first," he supplied, suppressing a smile.
Sirius rolled his eyes, sharing a meaningful glance with all the Marauders before standing. "Come on, Prongs. You're gonna be late if you hang around any longer."
"Yeah, you're probably right," James said, standing as well and gesturing for the team to follow. They rose nervously at the middle of the table, Troy stuffing one more piece of toast down his throat. "You all go on ahead," he told the Marauders. "I'll walk down with the team."
They nodded and, wishing him good luck, exited the Great Hall as the team approached him. James smiled in greeting to Lizzy's unnecessary wave, the final rush of adrenaline coursing through him. "Ready?" Emmeline's nod seemed to answer for all of them, because not a two seconds after they were bursting out of the doors, brooms in hand.
"We are going to win this game," James said as they crossed the Entrance Hall. "Just remember what-"
"Shhh!" Lizzy suddenly stopped, holding up her hand to silence them. "What was that?"
The team halted, all straining their ears in the empty Hall. The castle was near silent, only a few stragglers left- most were at the pitch already.
"Probably nothing," James affirmed. "C'mon, Lizzy, we've got to-"
"Shut up! Listen!"
James sighed, annoyed at her antics when they should be going to a match. He shared a skeptical look with Troy and Blake, whom both looked like they thought Lizzy'd gone mental.
And then there was a barely audible sound, a quiet moan, almost a whimper. He went tense, waiting to hear it again, but the Hall was as silent as ever. He turned slowly, searching for something out of place.
Thump.
"The door," Mary said, pointing to a broom closet. "That definitely came from the door."
Lizzy dropped her broom (James winced as it hit the floor), and ran to the closet door, her expression far more worried than warranted. He was proved wrong as soon as Lizzy opened the door.
A body crumpled to the floor, blood staining the stone instantly. It flowed steadily from her ears, gushed from her mouth, and seeped through her eyes like tears. Brown hair splayed the floor, but it had been obviously ripped from the skull at several spots. The body did not move, the wrists and ankles tied with black rope.
The entire team cursed and ran to the body, but James heard Angela clearly. "That's Madeline! Oh my God, it's Maddie Brookings!"
James fell beside the body next to Lizzy, glancing over Madeline's paper-white face as he put two fingers to her neck. "It's still beating," he mumbled, his hand plunging into his pocket for his wand. But then he remembered it was upstairs, he didn't want it to lose it during the match.
"She's barely breathing!" Angela cried from Madeline's other side. She frantically started untying Madeline's bonds when Lizzy pulled her hands away.
"Don't! Those ropes are deep, you'll make her lose more blood!"
Indeed, the edges of the black rope were tainted red. James didn't want to take the risk. He hauled her off the ground, adrenaline making her seem feather-light. "Lizzy, run down to the pitch and tell what happened. Mary, Troy, Emmeline, and Blake search the castle for help. Angela, come with me." His orders were direct, but his volume was hysterical. They all ran in opposite directions, Angela following him as he sprinted as fast as possible with Madeline's weight.
"Are you... you sure that she's Maddie Brookings?" James huffed.
"Yeah, I'm sure!" Angela explained frantically, tears streaming down her face.
"Thestrals!"
"What?"
But a portrait of Circe to their right popped open at James' voice, revealing a long tunnel. They rushed through it, Angela's hands closing around his robes as the portrait closed, leaving them in the dark.
"Shit! Do you have your wand?"
"No, I-"
"Come on!" James yelled, ignoring her and running forward. The passageway was complicated, but he'd traveled this route too many times to forget. He cherished every inexplicable flicker of light, turning right and left, and praying that they'd end up where they needed to be...
"Push the wall!"
Angela didn't question him, leaving his side to push against the wall in front of them. Light flooded the tunnel, the wall rotating from the outside. The pair of them ran out, the picture of Ptolemy confirming they were on the right floor.
"C'mon, we've-" James began, but felt the all too familiar jerk on his ankle. He fell to the floor, avoiding crushing Madeline by flipping on his back. He scrambled back up, but something forced him to the floor again.
"Potter, learn your place," Avery spat. James heard several others chuckle behind him, and he knew this wasn't good. "Kindly remain on the floor, would you? We don't want to get our shoes dirty, you see."
"Piss off," Angela responded. "This girl is going to die unless you leave us alone."
"Well, that would be a pity, wouldn't it, for the poor girl to join her parents?" Avery said as James stood back up, turning to see a smiling Avery and ten wands pointed at them.
"Maybe you don't care," Angela continued, "but even pieces of shit like you-"
One of them flicked his wand and Angela screamed. There was a gash, shallow but long, across her entire face. Blood smeared down her face, but her face betrayed no pain.
"Don't you dare speak, you filthy half-blood!"
"I've more wizarding blood than half of your pathetic little friends!" Angela yelled. She was suddenly flown backward, her petite body smashing into the stone with more force than any Bludger.
"LEAVE HER ALONE!" James roared. "Maddie will die unless somebody gets her to the hospital wing, and I won't let you gits-"
"Let us? Let us? Potter, I don't think you've learned to count quite yet. There are ten of us, and neither of you have wands or you'd have drawn them by now."
"Oh, so it takes ten DEWBs to take on-"
"We don't react to plays on pride, Potter. Not all of us are so predictable."
"She's losing blood!" James yelled, as if this would change their mind. His desperation was taking over his mouth as, even now, a pool of blood was forming around Madeline's fragile frame. He suddenly realized his Quidditch robes were far too deep a scarlet. "She has to get to the hospital wing NOW OR SHE'LL DIE!"
"You don't think we know every detail of her condition, Potter?" Avery jeered calmly. "Actually, we're so familiar with it, it's almost as if we could do it ourselves." All of them chuckled again, superiority permanently smeared on their faces, and James suddenly felt sick.
He ran forward, intending to beat the life out of Avery, but Yaxley jabbed with his wand and he flew backward again, the impact vibrating through every bone in his body. He bit his lip to keep from yelping in pain, but his expression was enough to send them all into another fit of laughter.
"Is that the expression you give when Black has his cock up your arse?"
"Well, I suppose you'd all be very familiar with that look, wouldn't you?" James replied, standing up despite his instinct to stay on the floor. "Probably practice every day with each other-"
An invisible force struck him in the gut, and he doubled over on reflex. "You're all probably very acquainted with this position too, I bet." Avery struck him, using his wand as a baton. His glasses shattered on the floor.
"You're all going to pay for your clever remarks, Potter. Grab the girl." Three of them made for Angela, who he could just make out was leaning on the wall with a dazed expression on her face. Maddie was closer, but he could recognize the red blur around her was growing. He wanted to fight, he wanted to
"No! Stop!" James yelled.
Avery held up a hand and the others halted. He turned back to James, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Let Angela go. Let her take Madeline to the hospital wing," James sputtered, his mind centered on a single notion. "And you can have me. Beat me up, humiliate me, whatever. I'll take it."
"No!" Angela objected. "No, take me-"
"Are they actually arguing this?" one of them asked.
"As it should be," Yaxley said. "Gryffindors groveling to be put in their place."
"I'm a blood traitor," James said quickly. "I'm James Potter, Hogwarts' Golden Boy. You're not going to get this opportunity again."
Avery nodded, but still looked skeptical. "And why can't I just do that anyway?"
"Because this way I won't fight back. I won't report you. And they'll be no revenge. Open target." He glanced behind him, the red and his desperation growing.
"And I'm just supposed to trust your word on that?" Avery questioned. "And what about her?"
"Better my word than yours. And Angela won't tell a soul, right?" When she didn't respond, James turned wildly to face her. "You've got to get Maddie to the hospital wing. She'll die."
Angela's body was blurry, but he could tell she was nodding. "Alright, alright."
Avery remained silent, but James knew without seeing his face that he was tempted. It was too sweet a deal. He searched his mind for something else he could offer, but luckily, he didn't have to.
"Deal."
James heard Angela's rushed footsteps, heard her heavy breathing as she tried to carry Madeline to the hospital wing. He heard her round the corner, her footsteps becoming progressively softer. James heard all these things, and he imprinted them in his memory with great care. Those sounds meant Angela was safe, and Madeline was getting help. Those sounds would be his salvation. Those sounds would hold meaning through every punch, every kick, every slash, and every ounce of pride he was about to lose.
"I hope you're ready for this, Potter. It won't be over soon."