Author's Note: I'm back, and it's crazy, right? I know what you old readers might be thinking. I came back to this like two years ago (has it really been that long?), updated a chapter, and disappeared for two years. But I'm hoping it'll be different now. I'm in the fanfiction world again, and I'm excited to be writing. I also have about a month left before I go back to college. A bunch of free time, people. Free time. If I can keep this story flowing the way I want to, and nothing crazy comes up, you should be getting updates. :). Also, it might be a good idea (old readers) to refresh yourself on previous chapters. There are little mistakes in there that I may go back and fix, but overall… Anyway, it may be a good idea to remember everything you're dealing with and perhaps get your mind back into this. Weeeell, enjoy. And please review. And new readers, welcome.
"A mistake, James. A big one. And I'm sorry I put you through this…"
"Of course," said James softly, his heart breaking.
If James closed his eyes, he could almost remember what it felt like to be happy, to be the old James. He could remember laughing with Sirius, playing Exploding Snap in the back of the room during class while still, somehow, achieving top marks. He could remember when it was exciting instead of painful to have feelings for Lily Evans, when it was sort of a game he had to try hard to have a chance at winning.
James remembered that he had once been happy. And he so desperately wanted to feel that again.
His friends would not be pleased to know that the letters they sent him only caused him more pain. Though he would act, if he were to ever see them again, as though he had torn them apart before reading a single thing, but he had read every word. Their concern only made him feel worse.
James missed his old life so badly he could hardly function when unexpectedly reminded of it.
On Wednesday night, the fifth night he'd been living at Ciara's house, the family had all gathered at James' mother's home for a family dinner. No doubt it had been to check on James' progress. On this night, James had mistakenly mentioned to Mercedez how much he did miss his old life.
"Then, bring it back!" she had yelled, partly pleased and partly frustrated. "All you have to do is snap your fingers. You've given yourself this life."
James tried to explain to her, without admitting that he had an illness, that it was not that simple.
No one understood how not simple it was.
"I'm thinking Hogsmeade tonight, yeah?" said James, a huge grin spreading across his face. "I'm overdue on Evans' gift."
Sirius rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. "I'm good on Hogsmeade, but the gift is pointless."
James would have given anything for that carefree interaction again and perhaps to be able to pinpoint the exact moment it had disappeared.
But James realized that there was not one key moment. It took months for this awful new "him" to drown the old James Potter. And he was gone. And James felt sure he would never come back. Whatever Mercedez said, it was not like snapping his fingers. He could not simply bring back his old self. It was as if someone had invaded his body and kicked the old self out without James having a say in the matter at all.
James had stopped fighting his family the way he had before. He still did not give in to all their requests, but he never screamed, shouted, or threw things. He generally did not leave his room, and when he did give into small meals and favors, (which was rare, but frequent enough that he was not constantly bothered) he did so silently and without making any eye contact.
His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock.
"Come in," said James, making sure his body was turned completely away from the door.
The door was opened tentatively. "James." It was Jennifer's voice. They must have been holding another meeting about him. "James, there's someone here to see you."
"Mmm," James murmured into his pillow.
"Well, I'll just send him up, then."
James made no noise of protest. Nothing mattered anymore.
After a few minutes alone with his door wide open, James seriously considered trying to sleep before the guest made it to his room, but before he'd had the chance, his visitor had arrived.
"James Potter, I presume?"
James raised an eyebrow at the man standing in his bedroom. He was quite sure he had never met this man in his life and had no idea why he was there to see him.
"Yeah…" said James slowly. He sat up in bed. Only because he was honestly curious.
The stranger in James' room was on the tall side with bright blue eyes, dark brown hair, and a sort of sad smile. His blue eyes stared at James, though they seemed to be trying, instead, to be staring into James' soul.
Uncomfortable with this, James looked away.
"James," said the man, taking a seat next to him on the bed. "I was a friend of your father's."
"Oh," he replied unenthusiastically. This is so far from what he wanted. "And you've come here to comfort me, to try to make me better by saying that you've been sad, too, but you've gotten through it? Well, it won't work. I'm not ill, not sad, and this doesn't have anything to do with my father."
"I'm not here as a friend of your father's," said the man. "I'm here as…well…if you'd let me explain."
James shrugged, as if to say he didn't care if he explained or not. He continued looking at the floor, and because he was curious, he listened.
"After your father died, I realized that I—and wizards in general—had to pay a lot more attention to mental and emotional illness because, unlike physical ailments, we have not been able to cure these so easily."
It sounded to James like this conversation did have to do with his father. And he did not want to talk about him.
"So, I went into this field to—to see what I could do to help people, James. And I think…that maybe I could help you."
James rolled his eyes. He looked at the man again. "What's your name?"
"Stephen," said the man, "Stephen White."
"Well, Mr. White—"
"Stephen," he interrupted, smiling.
"Stephen. You can't. You can't help me. Wasting your time."
Far from being offended or angry, Stephen smiled. Perhaps he had been told to expect this attitude, or maybe he was used to dealing with it. The smile bothered James, so much so that he had to bite his lip hard to prevent an outburst.
James had sworn to himself he would no longer shout.
"Professor Dumbledore, your family, and I have come to an agreement."
"Oh, you have, have you?"
"You will be going back to school," said Stephen.
James was honestly not sure if he liked the idea of going back to school or not. It seemed that there were positives and negatives in both places. Either way, he was sure he was not going to be happy. But what bothered him most was that he was being shipped around. They had just decided he was not fit to be at school, sent him to his mother, then sent him from his mother to his sister.
Now he was going back to school?
"Under the condition…"
Great.
"That you and I meet a couple times a week."
"Great," James said, out loud this time. "Please leave my room."
Stephen rose from the bed. Once again, he did not seem offended when James thought he should have been. "Absolutely, I'll leave you be. I will see you at school, James."
"Whatever."
James watched him make his way to the door. When he got there, he turned around to look at James again. "By the way, you should know…don't bother lying to me."
Without another word, the curious friend of his father's/some sort of therapist/annoying prick left his room.
Don't bother lying to him? What was that supposed to mean?
Later that night, James sat in his room, quietly packing. He had no idea how he was getting back to school, but he did as he was told: packed. He had many concerns about going back to school, but only one specific concern about the actual leaving of his sister's house. He hated to leave Ciara alone with her husband.
James had tried to tell his family about his sister's abuse, but they seemed to be in denial. Mercedez alone believed him and had volunteered to keep an eye out. But Ciara would not leave. She was strong-willed like James and refused to listen to other people about her situation. She thought she was okay.
James thought it rather unfair that they were focusing on him, believing he was ill, and yet they paid no attention to his sister who really was in a dangerous situation.
James felt extremely guilty walking away from this, but he knew that—even if his wand had not been confiscated by his family—cursing him might do no good, killing him would be wrong…
James was stuck on what to do, and as long as he was stuck, Ciara was stuck.
Or dead. And James could not stand losing another family member.
"What to do, what to do…"
James tried to come up with a brilliant plan while he folded clothes and placed them into his trunk. Tossing them in would have been easier and quicker, but he liked his organization and the time to concentrate on such a mindless task.
But it not distract him from his sister's problem.
James decided to leave it up to Mercedez while he stayed at school. She would do her best to make sure Ciara was okay, and as the whole family pointed out, James needed to finish school.
It had seemed rather pointless to take him away only to send him back about a week later.
James groaned suddenly, putting his head in his hands. When going over all the terrible things he would have to deal with back at Hogwarts, he had forgotten one thing, that the whole school knew of his suicide attempt. This…was going to be…hell.
James wondered if his friends knew he was coming back. If they did, they probably hoped it was because he was all better, eating disorder-free… Though James would certainly not admit to having an eating disorder, he was sure they would not be pleased to find him the same way he had been. As soon as he got back to school, he would eat even less than he had been forced to consume at Ciara's.
Perhaps they would be satisfied by his "therapy" or whatever the bloody hell it was.
Yeah, they would see that as a positive change, they would see that he was getting help, they would assume he would be "better" soon, and they would, therefore, not bother him.
Right?
Well, at least for a while, James supposed. When they discovered after weeks or months (however long he was forced to carry on before the man would give up) that there was no change, then the bothering would certainly begin again…
Or perhaps they would simply realize their friend was not coming back and be done with him.
With a sudden headache so severe it nearly incapacitated him, James continued his packing.
The dormitory of the marauders was silent. Nearly. Every so often, a page would turn in Remus' novel or the scratching would be heard on Peter's parchment when he found more to say in his essay. But there was no talking. There had been no talking for days.
It was as though there had been a death, a death that no one would dare to mention.
Though Remus had his eyes in his book, it would have been clear to anyone who paid attention that he was not reading it. His thoughts were on James, of course, but not on his illness, his suicide attempt, or his not being with them. Remus was focused on the day that James had tried to talk to him about what Remus now knew to be…what he had done with Lily.
But Remus had ignored him. He had been too obsessed with his never-ending fight and anger with Sirius. James had given up on trying to talk to him about it and had left the room.
James had decided not to try to tell any one of them ever again.
Remus could not help but wonder if things would have been different if he had only just listened and talked to James, if he had been there for him when he needed him. What if that was the day James had decided to leave them out of things and to take matters into his own hands?
Remus felt so disgustingly guilty.
"Remus?"
Remus started at his name. He carefully put the book down without marking his page. He had not been directly addressed by Sirius in days, perhaps since James had been around.
"Yes?" he asked.
Sirius was looking at him in an odd way. He seemed to look as guilty as Remus felt.
"Remus…" he said slowly, looking him straight in the eyes. "I know how stupid I was. I should have never played that trick on Snape. Not only could I have killed him, but I could have caused serious problems for you and others."
Remus smiled. "Sirius—"
Sirius put his hand up. "Please. Let me finish."
Remus nodded.
"I'm so sorry for what I did. I never…I didn't think it through all the way. I've certainly had time to think since, though. I now know what it's like to nearly lose a friend, both through suicide and through…well…" Sirius paused, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he seemed pained. "Through abandonment, change, hatred. Whatever we'll call it. James is important to me, and I'll do whatever I can not to lose him. And I know that you and I have been on the rocks for a long time now, and I want you to know…your friendship is important to me, too, Remus."
Remus was clearly touched.
"And I'll do anything not to lose you, either."
There were no other words, no verbal response from Remus. He did not say that Sirius was forgiven or that he had never lost him and never would.
But he smiled brightly at Sirius, and his smile said it all.
"Is it over then?" said Peter, who had been eagerly watching the entire exchange.
Remus knew he meant their fight. "Yeah," he said, his eyes still on Sirius. "It's over, Peter."
…
Apparently, a team of four women was needed to take James to Hogwarts. James was such a danger to himself that it was not good enough for simply one sister or his mother to come along. No, James was accompanied by Ciara, Mercedez, Jennifer, and his mother on the Hogwarts Express. It was the most awkward Hogwarts Express ride he had ever taken.
It was also long and torturous. He was annoyed that this group had forced themselves upon him, but when they finally arrived, James found some satisfaction in the fact that they had to take the long journey right back.
A long talk in Dumbledore's office, which James paid little attention to, James was given permission to go to his common room.
What he did pick up from the too-long conversation was that he would carry on with his classes as normal. Being as intelligent and quick as he was, he could catch up easily on his own. He would carry on with his duties as Head Boy if he so chose. Finally, he would meet alone with Stephen White in Dumbledore's office every Sunday starting the following night.
James felt within him a slight—though he might not admit it—excitement to see his friends. He wondered, as he climbed the steps to his dormitory, how long that would last.
When he got to the door to their dormitory, he took a deep breath. Slowly, he opened the door.
His friends were immersed in their own worlds, unaware that the door had been opened. Peter had his notes—was it Charms?—spread across his bed, and he was evidently writing an essay. Remus was reading a book. Sirius was the only one essentially unoccupied. He was laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"Hello," said James softly.
The reaction was immediate. Sirius' eyes flew to him, Peter looked up at him from his work, Remus dropped his book, losing his page, and also looked at him.
James could not tell if they were happy to see him, but it was clear they had not been told he was returning.
James tried to smile. "Miss me?" he teased.
And though James was not the same James as he had been before on the inside, he was able to show him—slightly—on the outside. Their reaction to it told James that he was going to try to do it more often. They all seemed so happy.
"Of course we missed you," said Peter. "Without you, Sirius is barely in the mood to cause any mayhem and without mayhem…" Peter glanced sadly down at his essay.
Sirius' smile showed more happiness than James had seen in a long time. "Good to see you, mate," he said.
James smiled back. "It's good to see you, too."
This felt good, this felt right. This felt almost like before.
Author's Note: There you have it. More to come, and it shouldn't be two years this time. I may be updating Just Passing Through next. Maybe expect this next chapter of this in…a week, a week and a half?