The Fake Quidditch Game
Although Gryffindor's victory remained the talk of Hogwarts for weeks, it was not long before preparations for end-of-the-year exams began. Soon James was drowning in homework, and he remembered with a dull throb in his head the pile of assignments that he had accumulated near his first year's summer break. As fascinating as Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts were, James did not appreciate the myriad of complex formulas and instructions that Professors McGonagall and Alamanzar gave out to their classes, and he had no better luck in Potions and Astronomy. For the time being, James and Sirius tried to shrug off as much of their homework as they could, but Remus and Peter got to work immediately, although Peter complained unendingly.
"Mum's going to kill me!" he moaned during Easter break in late April, his head thudding against the Transfiguration textbook lying open on his lap. "I can't remember a thing I read! There's no way that I'm going to pass the exams!"
"Don't talk like that!" Remus admonished, pulling him upright by his collar. "If you go over the material enough, you're sure to remember it!" he said, adding a pointed glare at James and Sirius.
"Hey, we're still working on something useful!" Sirius told him, studying a piece of parchment as he chewed on a quill. "The school thinks that we could all benefit from more work our third year, so we have to choose which classes to take. Right now, I'm stuck between Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy. What do you think?"
"Can't you just take them both?" Remus asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"But I wanted to take Muggle Studies," Sirius replied.
"You can take more than two classes, you know," Remus pointed out.
"And get stuck with all of that homework?" he exclaimed. "I'd almost rather take Potions twice over!"
"I'm going to sign up for Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures," James decided, filling out his own piece of parchment. "They seem like they would be the least dull."
"You won't be in Muggle Studies with me?" Sirius questioned, frowning at him, and James sighed as he shot a glare at him. Blinking his silver eyes, Sirius pursed his lips until he finally broke and scribbled onto his parchment again.
"All right, I'll take Muggle Studies with you if you sign up for both of the other classes," James compromised, and Sirius sank down in his chair before signing the list of classes.
"Deal," he agreed before addressing the others. "Will you join us?"
"I was planning to take Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes," Remus answered, biting his lip.
"Then just add on Care of Magical Creatures," James suggested. "You know all about Muggles from your mum, right?"
Opening his mouth, Remus paused for a moment and then nodded, turning back to his homework. Sitting up, Peter said, "I think I'll take Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures, too. Arithmancy sounds even worse than Transfiguration."
"That's why I'm taking it!" James responded, and Peter wrinkled his nose before pounding his head on his textbook again.
Eventually, prompted by Remus' constant guilting, James sat down to tackle a History of Magic essay as soon as the week-long Easter break drew to a close. He managed to fill five decimeters of parchment before giving up and writing in unusually large print for the remainder of the required length, hoping that their ghostly professor would not notice. However, when he stayed after class to turn it in to Professor Binns, he received yet another assignment about the goblin riots of 1814. After class, he visited the library to seek out materials, a task that took over three hours even with Mr. Jaune's comprehensive, alphabetically-arranged file cabinets of the library's contents.
Feeling as if his head would split open from all his reading, James finally made his way back to his dormitory late that night with an armload of material. Once he had squeezed through the door, he swung it shut with his foot and waddled to his four-poster in order to dump his findings on his mattress. On either side of him, Sirius and Peter looked up from their four-posters and watched as James dropped one of the books on his toe and let out a curse.
"Heavy, mate?" Sirius asked, grinning.
"Why didn't you come with me?" James growled, rubbing his toes. "It would have taken half of the time!"
"I already started it," Peter told him, holding his glowing wand-tip over the roll of parchment on his four-poster.
"What about you?" James asked Sirius.
"Eh, I figured I'd just let you do the work and use whatever you found," he answered with a shrug. Smirking, he watched as James glared at him and limped across the floor.
"They're all yours," he spat, favoring his right foot on the way to the washroom. As he grabbed the door handle, he added, "I hope one falls on you, too."
"James!" Sirius called out, but James ignored him as he opened the door and stepped inside.
"Do you mind?" Remus yelped, clutching his pajama shirt to his bare torso on the other side of the door. His hand still on the knob, James froze as Remus floundered to regain composure, letting his covering slip for just a moment; in that instant, James spotted several crisscrossing gashes running across his chest, some still a deep red color as if inflicted more recently than the others.
"Get out!" Remus finally cried, and James stopped gaping as Remus shoved him out of the lavatory and slammed the door in his face.
The whole exchange had only lasted for a matter of seconds, but James stood frozen outside of the washroom for several long moments, blinking at the door only centimeters away from his face. After a considerable stretch of silence, he slowly turned around to face Sirius and Peter, who had watched the exchange quietly. He opened his mouth to ask them if they had seen what he had, but their wide eyes gave him the answer.
Finally breaking away from the door, James walked back to his four-poster and sat down, his mind numb. Nobody spoke for the next few minutes, and they all jumped slightly when the silence was broken by the quiet swinging of the washroom door. Crossing the room rapidly, Remus avoided eye contact as he quickly stuffed his robes away underneath his four-poster.
"Remus?" James finally spoke, biting his lip. "What . . . what happened to you?"
"Would it kill you to knock?" Remus muttered, still not looking at any of the others as he lifted the sheets from his four-poster and climbed under them.
"What happened?" James repeated, firmer this time.
"It's nothing," Remus brushed him off.
Frowning, James prodded, "I don't think—"
"Look, it's none of your business, all right?" Remus snapped, finally turning to glare at him. "Just leave me alone."
Rolling over, he faced the wall and pulled his comforter up to his ears. Closing his mouth, James glanced at Sirius and Peter, who bit their lips as they stared back at him. After a few moments, Peter slowly pushed his essay off of his mattress and doused his wand light, and he and Sirius sank down into their four-posters without a word.
Not in the mood to get up and change, James swung his legs onto his mattress and rested his head on his pillow. Every little sound in the darkened room reached his attentive ears; the small shifts of Sirius and Peter next to him, the whisper of the wind against the windowpane, and Remus' barely audible breathing. Eventually, Remus sniffed sharply and repositioned himself before silencing once more, and Sirius grunted quietly from nearby. Nearly half an hour had gone by before James heard his roommates' breathing deepen, but he stayed awake for several more minutes before finally dropping off.
In the morning, Remus was the first to rise, disappearing behind the washroom door to change. When he came out, the others were sitting up in their four-posters, eyeing him silently; James caught a quick glance from Remus shoot his way, but he soon looked down again as the others stood and tucked in their sheets. Patting his clothes down, James tried to smooth out the wrinkles left from the night.
"So, do you two want to wait for us in the Great Hall?" Sirius eventually spoke, nodding at James and Remus.
"I have to pack," Remus told him bluntly, but James was relieved to hear a note of timidity punctuating his voice as opposed to the previous night's anger.
"Where are you going now?" Peter asked, unable to keep the inflection out of his voice. Blinking, Remus lowered his eyes to the floor.
"My parents got tickets to a Quidditch match," he replied. "They've been saving up for a while, and I got permission from Professor McGonagall to miss a couple days of classes." At this, Sirius' eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing.
"Which game?" James asked, studying Remus closely. Watching for a sign of disquiet, he was mildly surprised when his roommate pulled out a copy of The Daily Prophet.
"The Harpies and the Wasps," Remus answered, pointing at an article on the front page. Leaning closer, James read the title: "The Birds and the Bees: Final Showdown on Friday."
For a few moments, all four boys stared at the team captains arguing in the photograph on the cover, the room falling into silence. Finally, Sirius cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Right. Have fun, then."
Taking a step back at Sirius' deliberately challenging tone, Remus glanced down as he turned away and pulled out his all-too familiar suitcase. Making eye contact behind him, the others quickly prepared for the day and headed down Gryffindor Tower. As soon as they slipped through the Fat Lady's portrait, Sirius shook his head.
"He's lying to us," he announced, and James nodded.
"He is?" Peter asked.
"If his parents had enough money for a Quidditch game, they could at least afford to get him some new robes," Sirius answered, snorting slightly.
"About that . . ." James trailed off, watching as two fourth-years passed by. When they had left, he lowered his voice said, "When he was in the washroom and we saw—well, you know . . . You don't think that his family . . . Well, whenever he comes back from his house, he always has . . . I mean, you don't think his parents—well . . ."
Catching on, Sirius shook his head and scoffed. "No, of course not! Have you heard Remus talking about his parents? He adores them!"
Although embarrassed, James felt his muscles relax. "It's just that whenever we don't see him for a few days, he always seems to get hurt."
"I know," Sirius agreed, rubbing his chin. "Now that I think about it, I've never seen him take off his robes in our room before—or even, you know," he added with a frown, "roll up his sleeves for Herbology."
"What do you think is the matter with him?" Peter asked after a pause, and James and Sirius shared a look.
"I don't know," Sirius replied. "Do you think that we should tell somebody?"
Thinking rapidly, James nodded. "We should talk to Professor McGonagall. If anyone will know what to do, it'll be her."
"Let's talk to her after class tomorrow," Sirius suggested. "Remus will be gone by then, and I don't want anyone to overhear us."
"Good idea," James agreed, and the three grew quiet as another group of students approached.
Remus disappeared after speaking with them that morning, and their room seemed strangely quiet in his absence; however, James knew that the others were only anticipating their talk with Professor McGonagall the next day. The following afternoon, James played with his quill through most of their Transfiguration lecture, too busy thinking about Remus to concentrate on the principles of element manipulation. Since the class was not a practical lesson, McGonagall did not seem half as surprised as she normally would have been at James' apparent boredom, but she still had to rap her fingers loudly on her desk several times throughout the period to wake him and his roommates from their stupor.
When McGonagall finally dismissed the class, she turned around to erase the notes that she had drawn on the blackboard; a few moments later, she turned back around and stared at James, Sirius, and Peter where they waited in front of her.
"Yes?" she inquired, peering over her spectacles. "Can I help you?"
"We were wondering if you could tell us something," James replied.
"Well, what is it?" McGonagall demanded, still glancing back and forth between the boys. "If you had a question about the lecture, why didn't you raise your hand during class?"
"It's not about the lesson," James explained. "It's about Remus." As soon as these words came out of his mouth, McGonagall's mouth tightened, and she narrowed her eyes.
"You see," Sirius put in, "something's not quite right, but we can't figure it out."
"Yeah," Peter agreed. "He's been acting really strange."
"He always seems to get injured whenever we let him out of our sight," Sirius said.
"He keeps on giving us excuses, saying that he tripped or that Peeves attacked him," James told her, "but he's not clumsy, and he doesn't go out looking for trouble."
"Is there any reason why you wouldn't take him at his word?" Professor McGonagall asked pointedly, crossing her arms.
"He gets really nervous whenever we try to talk about it, and he always manages to change the subject or run off," James answered, pausing slightly. "He's just . . . well . . ."
"What, exactly, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall cut in. "Intelligent? Studious? Respectful? Kind?"
"Sickly?" James finally tried. Sighing, McGonagall removed her spectacles and placed them on her desk.
"I'm sure that if there was something you needed to know, he would have told you," she said, moving away to gather her supplies. "It's best that you mind your own business."
"But—" James started.
"I've heard enough," McGonagall interrupted, waving him off. "Go on and get out of my classroom."
Their shoulders slumped, James and the others turned and walked out into the hallway. "Well, that didn't go well," Sirius commented as soon as the door had closed behind them.
James opened his mouth to agree, but he quieted when Professor Alamanzar appeared around the corner with a group of older Slytherin students. Waving, James waited as the short wizard approached.
"Where are you going?" he asked Alamanzar. "Isn't your classroom the other way?"
Glancing once at his followers, Professor Alamanzar smiled at James while the Slytherins glared down at him; James guessed that they were still upset at Gryffindor for winning the Quidditch Cup. "I am teaching a practical lesson on the grounds," Alamanzar explained. "I will talk to you later, is it okay?"
"See you in class," James said, and Alamanzar beamed before leading the Slytherins away. Huffing, one of the students near the back turned and whispered to his friend as they passed by.
"If we have to stop for one more person, I'm going to lose it. Professor Torrence doesn't like it when we're late."
"I've never heard of a Professor Torrence here," Peter said once the Slytherins had walked off.
"He's probably just the Arithmancy professor," Sirius guessed. "I think they might have a joint class."
"Well, it's getting late," James pointed out, glancing towards a dark window nearby. "We should get back to our room and figure out what's wrong with Remus on our own. If Professor McGonagall isn't going to help, it's up to us now."
For a moment, the boys remained silent until Sirius' spine suddenly bolted upright and he snapped his fingers. "I've got it!"
"What?" the others asked in unison.
"Evans always gets the evening edition of The Daily Prophet, right?" Sirius asked, smiling and straightening his collar. "All that we need to do is ask her whether the Wasps or the Harpies won the match today. That way, we can tell whether or not Remus actually went to the game when he comes back!"
"Doesn't Remus get the paper, too?" Peter pointed out.
"Yes, but I don't think that he'll get it before tomorrow if he isn't at Hogwarts," Sirius argued.
"That's perfect!" James praised. "I think that Evans just left Transfiguration for the Great Hall, so she shouldn't be hard to find."
Running through the castle, the three boys finally made it, huffing, to the ground floor in front of the Great Hall's double doors. Passing under the full moon hanging in the star-laden sky of the enchanted ceiling, James jogged to where Lily and her roommates sat at the Gryffindor table. Brightening, James spotted the copy of The Daily Prophet lying open in Lily's hands.
"Hey, Evans!" he called out, making Lily and the other girls look his way. "Can you do me a favor?"
"What do you want?" Lily hissed in a whisper, glancing around at the other tables as James' loud voice caused several students to look their way.
"Did the Wasps or the Harpies win today?" James asked, coming to a stop in front of her.
"Why do you want to know?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes.
"Well, you see," James explained, "Sirius and I have a little bet going. Ten Galleons says that the Harpies won by fifty points."
"You bet ten Galleons on a Quidditch game?" Alice gasped, apparently unable to fathom someone leaving that much money up to chance. Grinning at the sight of her open mouth, James nodded. Still frowning, Lily glanced down at The Daily Prophet before looking back up with a smirk.
"Sorry, Potter," she told him. "The Wasps managed to catch the Snitch and pull ahead by twenty points."
"Blimey," James said, smiling. "Thanks anyway, Evans!" As he turned away from her tilted head, he stopped short when he saw Sirius in front of him, grinning with his palm out. Glaring at him, James grumbled an obscenity and reached into his robes' pockets, only finding four Galleons.
"You'll get the rest later," he growled at Sirius as he dropped the money into his hand.
Pocketing the coins, Sirius hummed cheerily to himself all throughout dinner, only losing his grin when James refused to give him any more money once they had returned to their dormitory. Still upset by his loss, James climbed into his four-poster feeling irked, but sleep soon robbed him of his frustration as the night's hours passed by. When he woke up, he joined his roommates in the Great Hall for a quick breakfast before climbing back up to their dormitory to work on his Transfiguration homework. After a half hour or so, the door to their room swung open and Remus walked in, lugging his suitcase and rubbing his eyes.
"How was the game?" James asked, jumping up from his four-poster with the others. Starting, Remus stared at him before walking inside.
"I thought that you would be eating breakfast already," Remus told him, hoisting his suitcase onto his four-poster. Stepping next to James as Remus turned around to rummage through his belongings, Sirius crossed his arms.
"We just got back," he explained.
"So," James said casually, "who won the match?"
Remus paused, his hand hovering over his open suitcase, but after a moment he turned around with an unnaturally wide smile and shook his head. "If you didn't find out at breakfast this morning, I'm not going to tell you," he finally answered, inching carefully around James' and Sirius' unmoving forms until he reached the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get the material I missed."
Letting him go, the others stared after him as he disappeared through the doorway and trudged down the stairs. As soon as they could no longer hear his footsteps, Sirius spoke.
"He doesn't know who won," he stated matter-of-factly, his arms still crossed.
"Where did he go, then?" Peter asked, and James narrowed his eyes.
"I don't know," he replied, "but we're going to find out."