Runes is the first class on Monday and things are still being shuffled around from the panic of the last few days.

"Could one of you strong students come and help me move this big desk?" asks the runes professor gently like her sleeveless vest doesn't perfectly show off her bulging biceps.

"I'll do it!" James cheers, bouncing out of his seat because he really just can't stop himself.

"No, I'll do it!" Sirius yells and scrambles out of his seat.

James gets to the aisle first and shoves Sirius back. "Go sit down, she asked for someone strong."

"You must be joking," Sirius scoffs. "When have you ever won a fight against me?"

"It's not about fighting like some crass hooligan," James huffs with an aristocratic sneer. He puts a heavy hand on Sirius' shoulder, digging his thumb into the hollow of the jutting collar bone threateningly. "I, my belligerent friend, have the raw power to-"

Sirius grabs James' wrist and yanks him forward while Sirius ducks low and turns sideways, ramming his shoulder up into James' stomach and pulling down on the wrist so James goes front flipping over Sirius' shoulders so fast he doesn't know what's happening until he lands with a bang on their table, scattering quills and rumpling parchment.

James wheezes pathetically.

Remus stands up. "I'll help, professor."

Remus and Sirius square off, slowly circling each other and looking for weakness.

The professor waits patiently, unconcerned at triggering a student cage match.

"Why did I hear rumours about a runes class fighting to the death?" Harry asks them pointedly when they meet him for lunch.

"I had to prove my dominance," James answers immediately.

"I destroyed Jamie, in the very first round," Sirius explains to Harry.

"I let Siri win to boost his confidence because I'm a good friend," James corrects.

"James didn't last five seconds with Sirius," Remus admits. "And yet he still had the gall to try and fight me."

James slaps a hand down onto the table and turns on them in outrage. "In front of my son?! Will you not let me have this?"

"You won the hearts of the crowd," Sirius soothes.

"You'll get us at next year's tournament," Remus offers.

"So who won?" Harry asks.

Remus tsks. "I battled my way through the whole class but the professor got me with a cheap trick."

"You weren't watching your footwork," Sirius criticises.

After regaling Harry with a play-by-play of the entire tournament, the three arrive at potions after lunch to Slughorn standing proudly (but still rather tiredly from non-stop brewing for the entire weekend) by his desk, a cauldron of pale pink and maroon swirls in front of him.

There's excellent ventilation in the classroom but Padfoot still comes bobbing up to the surface to scent the air - not needed because Sirius recognises it on sight, as he's been trained to do as an heir. He knows several potions by sight, smell and taste - things like the sheen of veritaserum in different kinds of drinks under particular lighting, a few common poisons, and some date rape drugs to prevent bloodline theft.

This smells like the oddly ethereal scent of the invisibility cloak, of Remus looming over him and James pressed up against his front, like the musty stone hallways of secret passages, the hidden rooms where the pulse of magic is so heavy and thick in the air it smells like fire.

Sirius leans over and nudges Remus as they take their seats at the back, James a table in front because Sirius won rock paper scissors and got the smart kid as a partner. "What do you smell, Remi?"

Remus blinks. "Many things."

"The potion," Sirius clarifies.

Remus pauses and breathes in deep, thinks he might take a while to filter it all but the scent cuts through the mash of fresh ingredients and ominous table stains.

Remus smells a wet night, after a storm where the ozone lingers, the damp wood of the shack and wet fur of Prongs and James, Sirius and Padfoot. Blood and fresh meat, the moon bulbous as it peaks in the dark sky like some macabre gouged out eyeball peering down, pack and safety and the forest like a heartbeat in his bones-

Remus clears his throat. "Why? What do you smell?"

Sirius smirks. "Come on, tell me."

Remus eyes him warily but the new moon is only a few days away and he's feeling rather docile. "Just...you two, a storm. "

Sirius sniggers and leans so far across the table he's standing on the foot rest of the stool to poke James in the back. "Jamie, what do you smell?"

James turns around and blinks big eyes, wide behind round spectacles.

"Dumb deer," Sirius complains dismissively because James doesn't have the nose for it. "Never mind."

"Ugly mutt," James responds on instinct alone and sounds cheerful.

Slughorn peers around the classroom with a jovial smile on his face. "Would anyone like to volunteer to come up and smell this potion?"

"James volunteers!" Sirius calls out.

"I do?" James says before throwing up an arm. "Sir, I volunteer!"

"Well come right up then," Slughorn says with a laugh. "Take a whiff, tell us what you smell."

James trots up to the front of the class and with his back to everyone he smirks. James was also taught to recognise several potions and as he wafts the smell towards him with a hand, he's excitedly going through the most ridiculous responses he can think of right now. "I smell-"

James smells dirt and blood, Harry staggering up to the Manor with wary eyes. Freshly cut grass and lazy days filled with sunshine in the backyard, mum and dad bantering over cinnamon scrolls.

"-hmm parchment and ink-"

James smells the fresh air coming off the Black Lake and clinging to the banners hanging from the Quidditch stands, and then Sirius, slamming straight into him mid-air after the game, sweaty and laughing and clutching at James' clothes so tight he almost chokes from it.

"-and lavender like in the window of the transfiguration classroom-"

James smells the forest and damp soil, the crushed leaves as they run wild through it, the heartbeats after the moon rises and he stays human with Moony looking at him like Remus does, like James is something so cherished, before the moment passes and Moony becomes all teeth.

"-and, well, oddly enough it does smell a lot like McGonagall," James finishes. "You know, cats. The odd citrus-y note of the scented candles in her office."

James turns around and hits Sirius full-force with the doe eyes. Dumb deer indeed.

Sirius cracks up and so do a few others who guessed the potion already.

"Very funny," Slughorn chuckles fondly. "Alright then, you already know I assume. This, students, is amortentia - a love potion! Everyone line up and take a whiff, it'll smell like what you love most - a place, a memory, or perhaps even Professor McGonagall."

"The heart wants what the heart wants," James says mournfully as he drifts back to his chair.

Stools scrape across the ground as the class shuffles up and James leans over the back desk on his elbows with a smirk.

"What'd you really smell?" Sirius demands because Remus is too busy glaring at the side of Sirius' head for not warning him.

"Mum and dad and Harry," James says candidly.

Sirius waits and when no more comes he shrugs, ignoring the drop in his stomach. "Oh, what'd Harry smell like?"

James laughs. "Yes, you and Remi were there. After Quidditch, running through the forest."

Sirius feels his chest get lighter but squeeze at the same time. "I got us rummaging around through the secret passages."

"Pack," Remus admits, doesn't want to talk about the blood, their blood, tastes it on his tongue. "You both knew? You hate potions."

"Pureblood training," Sirius explains. "You can get a lot of heritage gifts with Black blood, we've got like everything. Seer stuff, Metamorphmagus, legilimency, plus all that money lying around and the wizengamot seats if you can argue the kid is legitimate enough."

"It's horrifying you'd need to prepare for the possibility," Remus says slowly.

"Used to be a really big thing way back," James chimes in. "Guess it's mostly tradition to learn by this point."

At the end of the day, the students crowd the windows of Hogwarts and peer out with wary excitement as Harry walks across the grass with a giant motherfucking snake behind him, big enough that the tongue that flicks out is the same length as Harry himself.

The basilisk has its eyes closed and follows along obediently to where Tom is waiting because while its probably not a good idea to give the Dark Lord a basilisk, its also pretty mean to just leave it down in the basement.

There was a lot of discussion and owling back and forth but no one really has somewhere to house a basilisk – not on short notice because its so rare and any place they can put it might harm the ecosystem or be as restrictive as Hogwarts.

So Voldemort is taking the snake until they can rehome it and Harry knows its just a ploy to be seen as creature friendly (which technically isn't wrong because Voldemort looks down on creatures just as much as he looks down on humans) but its fine as long as the result is good, never mind the intent.

Harry has learned to take the small victories.

"Tom!" James cheers, tucked under the invisibility cloak as he rides the basilisk - because that's just the kind of person he is.

Sirius would be here but he took one look at a waiting Tom Riddle and started getting huffy for some reason (because Tom is too pretty and Sirius feels like his claim on James is being threatened) so James promised not to meet Tom (except who would pass up riding a basilisk) and here we are.

"Congratulations on pissing off an entire acromantula nest," Tom deadpans because Harry wrote in the diary about the first meeting and Tom is very capable of putting two and two together. "You genuinely do impress me, for all the wrong reasons."

"They're just spiders," James says dismissively, pulling the cloak off once the basilisk gets deep enough into the forest for him to be hidden.

"Oh?" Tom scoffs. "And here I was, thinking you're a creature's rights advocate, especially considering your pet werewolf."

"I want to help my pet Remus, I don't give a damn about the other ones," James retorts and quickly leans over the edge of the basilisk to look down at Harry. "Not that I don't consider your opinion and sympathies valid! All sentient beings deserve respect, just personally, I have priorities."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know who you are, dad."

James frowns. "Why would you say it in that tone?"

"He's finally getting to his rebellious period, I see," Tom muses. "Harry, don't talk back to your father."

"Yeah, Harry," James chimes in. "Don't talk back to your dad."

"Don't turn on me now!" Harry protests. "Tom, just take your snake and go."

James slides off the head and gives the snake a pat. "Tell her I love her."

"No," Tom says and portkeys away with the basilisk immediately after.

James raises an eyebrow at Harry. "So he was charming back in your second year, you said?"

"He faked it well enough at least," Harry muses.