"James!"
It echoed into the empty tower. Just hours ago, it had been filled, but now all who dwelled in it were well hidden under blankets, covers, and throws. They were far, far away from that world. To her, they were too far.
She palmed the heart that beat in her chest, almost bent over as if to vomit, gasping to catch her breaths. She had not been made for sport but had run as she had been told. Blindly, she found her way back to the safety of the tower, of her home. Once again, she walked through the portrait door, but, as she would soon discover, she did not return the same person who had left.
"Go, now, quickly," McGonagall's commands poisoned her ears.
The witch had not thought of questioning it, not once. So, she ran. Initially, she had felt her professor's stare guiding her, but, with each step, she began to imagine that there was something — someone — behind her. Every shadow, every portrait, every pillar became her enemy. So, she ran faster than she ever thought she could.
It had been too fast.
"JAMES! POTTER!" The witch attempted again. The essence of what kept her standing dwindled with each inhale. Every breath drew shallower with the second. The image in front of her began to look murky, all of the contents of the common room blurred into one. Her steps were disoriented, and she tripped as she stepped forward to grab hold of the couch's corner. She did not yield, propelling, forcing herself further towards the stairs. Someone would come, someone would appear. Any second now.
"Potter," she breathed out with one last surge.
Nobody came.
All she could feel next was the force of the carpeted stone floor shooting through her nose and into her scalp. The witch fell onto her knees, then onto her face. The world before her, and everything that came with it, disappeared, vanishing into blackness. It overtook her, yes, and it could take her, but it would not be so easy. She would not go without fight or fuss.
So, that morning, death did not come for Marjory Bones, yet.
"Bones?"
A voice could be heard in the distance, her head lifted and angled against something. She tried to gulp, but her mouth was too dry. Her head tilted to the side, aching to take a deep breath. Something sweet came to her lips, and she ceded, opening her mouth and letting it sit on her tongue. The sweet melted in the heat of her mouth— chocolate, it was chocolate.
"What'd you reckon happened?" Sirius asked Remus in a hushed voice.
Unbeknownst to Marjory, someone had heard her cries for help. It had not been the person she had sought, but someone had been waiting for her in the darkness, at the other end. She surrendered within their grasp, and she would have almost laughed if all of her fight was not going to combatting the weakness in her limbs.
"I think she just fainted is all," Remus responded.
Indeed, both wizards had been up. Sirius was not able to fall asleep as early as everyone else. He was known to stay up until at least two in the morning. And Remus, well, Remus was a terrible sleeper to begin with. He loved sleeping. He could spend an entire day sleeping. Day— that was the problem. At night, it was a different story.
"What? Like you?"
"Yeah, something like it," Remus mumbled, keeping his attention on Marjory. Sirius had placed Marjory's head on his thigh, sitting crisscrossed on the ground. Remus was kneeling in front of her, bent over while feeding her the chocolate he had procured from their dormitory after locating her on the floor.
"It helps," Remus said when her eyes opened, placing another square of chocolate on her lips. She nodded as if it had been a question.
"Was it you screaming Potter?" Sirius asked as soon as he saw her jaw speed up, chewing on the chocolate rather than letting it melt.
"Give her a second," Remus said, but Marjory managed to put one hand on the ground, lifting her torso. Remus straightened himself, sitting on the backs of his legs. His eyes fell to the prefect badge on her chest, honing in on it. At once, he turned to observe the common room around him. It was cold, too cold, and he knew something was missing— but what?
"Marjory, where's Lily?"
After a massive attempt to dissuade him otherwise by Sirius, Remus found himself seated on the Gryffindor couch in front of the last burning embers of the early morning hours — or late night hours, depending — with a hand fastened over his mouth. He pulled at the skin of his cheek, but he could not feel it. His fingers dug into his jaw, but he could not feel it. He was numb. Completely numb.
"I need to go," he whispered to Sirius, his eyes glossed over, fixated on the glowing coals.
"No, you don't."
Sirius sat on the armchair so that their stares were level, but Remus was not looking at him. Marjory paced back and forth before the fireplace, fully recovered from her fainting spell. A finger pressed into her forehead as she did— back and forth, back and forth in front of the fire.
"I can't not go."
"Remus, we don't know what the fuck is going on. You heard what McGonagall said to Bones— go back to the tower, stay there, don't let anyone leave. Anyone, that includes us, mate."
"Since when do you listen to McGonagall?" Remus rallied on hastily, but he knew he would have been up and out that door had it not been for those exact words. McGonagall's command had spread through the entire castle, protected and carried by the witch in front of them. Marjory Bones had been messenger, and, indeed, she had almost been killed for it. Who was he to defy them?
"Since someone lit Lily on fire."
Unfortunately, it was not the first time Remus was hearing those words, and it would not be the last. They were not new. It had been the first sentence to spill out of Marjory as she rushed to tell them what she had been running from. They had repeated them back to her multiple times before the intake was set and complete. In the end, she had not been looking for James. She had not known who else to call for. She had thought she was dying. She had thought those were her last moments, and she had to tell them. She had to tell someone before the lights went out for her, too. So, she called out for who, she thought, would have carried the torch without fuss, without fight.
Remus had to admit, it was telling.
However, the words were never, and had never been, meant for only James. So, Marjory Bones told them everything from head to toe.
She and Lily had gone to patrol together. When they got to the fifth floor, they had decided to split up.
"I never thought," she acknowledged, her face pained as she recalled the details. "The fifth floor is safe, it's… It's supposed to be safe. It's where we are." It was almost as if she had been trying to convince them that it wasn't her own doing, but how could she feel otherwise? Only one of them had come back whole.
Though she initially thought Lily had continued without her, something inside told her to check—just check. So she did, and what she discovered was the ugliest thing in the entire world—made real. It was horrendous in its full glory.
Marjory had cried, shrieked as loudly as she could into the darkness, waking up the portraits all over the castle. They spread word to McGonagall as soon as they could make out her demands for aid. Not once did Marjory stand to leave the witch's side. She had stayed, screaming and yelling for help over and over again. The witch would never remember how long she had been there for, but McGonagall and Dumbledore both came, pulling her back from the burnt and brutalized body she leaned over. The look in McGonagall's eyes could be described as pure fear, forcing Marjory back to the tower— telling her to make sure no one left or entered. To make sure that she, herself, was safe.
Yes, the night of Hogwarts' most fabulous party was the same night that the war came for Lily Evans. It would be the first night that the war was no longer headlines and food for talk, but it was there: it was in front of them, sporting its horrors in full glory.
"I need to see her," Remus rasped, his voice failing. It sounded like he was begging Sirius to let him go. Even though he was perfectly capable of rising, he knew he could not do it alone, for none of them knew what outside looked like. None of them had ever really dared wander, and he could not begin now without someone to have his back. "I need to."
"Remus, she's with McGonagall and Dumbledore— they're probably with Pomfrey," Sirius said, a hand rose between them as if Remus was ready to jump. "She'll be okay. Okay?"
"We don't know that."
What Remus did know was that it would not be Sirius. He conceded to this reality. He knew, now, that it would not be Sirius who backed him.
No, Sirius would not stand for someone he did not love. He only knew Lily to the extent that they shared a common room. Whatever he did know had been learned from others, often abandoned over time. He did not know her the way that Remus did. Sirius did know, however, what it felt like to have someone he loved torn to two, in every sense of the word. He knew that, in his current state, Remus could not think. He could only feel with his heart, and while his heart may have ached to be with his friend, Sirius knew they could not fight with only one of them thinking. They would not survive.
No, Sirius did not know Lily, but he knew Remus. He knew when Remus was weak— and it was that version of Remus sitting on the couch then and there.
Remus: who had heard that first sentence spiral out of Marjory's mouth and looked as if his whole world had collapsed around him.
What neither one of the two knew was that had Remus gone, Sirius would have gone, too.
It was two versions of the same hour. However, Sirius' account of the events would forever be lost on Remus. The latter would remember only denial.
"What's going on?"
A nearly hazed James Potter woke up, eyeing the darkness, a headache pounding in his forehead. It was the middle of the night, he could infer as much, but what he truly needed was not the time, but a sip of water. He reached for his wand, only to find it missing— not where he usually left it. Thrown off balance, he searched for his glasses, put them on, and with bleary eyes took in the room around him. His curtains had been left open— Sirius' were too, except his bed was empty. James bolted upright to find that the last bed looked much the same. Only Peter's curtains were closed. He made his way over and, without thinking twice, ripped the curtains open.
"Wormtail," he called, shaking Peter's shoulder. Peter grumbled in response, pushing James away with his elbow. James jammed his knee into the mattress and started to shake both Peter and the bed. "Wormtail— where're the others?"
"I don't know," Peter grumbled. "What others?" He gradually woke up, mouth agape, sitting up. Looking left and right, he appeared just as dazed as James had been moments earlier. "I don't know?"
"Bloody hell," James huffed. "Where's my wand?"
"They took it," Peter replied, grimacing as he glanced at the clock on the table. "Merlin, it's 2:38?"
"My wand, Wormtail."
"You were pissed, Prongs. Banned to the dorms."
"Banned to the dorms?"
"Yeah," Peter answered, his back arching as he released a big yawn. "Yelled at Evans and everything."
"Who yelled at Evans?"
"You did."
But that still didn't explain where Sirius and Remus were.
"Where're the other two?"
"I don't know."
James left in search of them, and imagine his merry surprise when he found them in the exact position they had occupied for over an hour. He was pretty content that he didn't have to search far and wide for his two friends while sporting a discombobulated state. They had simply been sitting on the couches with Marjory Bones standing in front of them. To James, this did not seem out of place, not at all. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the sight before him.
Except there was plenty wrong with it.
His steps slowed as he neared, scrutinizing each unappealing aspect of it.
Remus's foot twitched. Marjory nibbled at her thumbnail, pacing back and forth. Sirius observed Remus carefully, as though he was prepared to tackle him to the ground. There was no bottle between them, no words, no sound. They had let the fire die—no one toyed with the embers, no one reignited it.
No, there was a lot wrong— even he could see that.
"What's going on?"
Fuck, Sirius thought. He wouldn't be lying if he said that the biggest favor James could have done for anyone was to stay asleep, but, no, of course, he had to be awake then and now.
"James," Remus said as soon as James appeared from behind the couch, the latter's eyes steady on Marjory. "Mate—"
"What do you need?" Sirius asked, cutting Remus off.
"Water," he replied immediately, but he faltered, pausing. His eyes left Sirius and made their way back to Marjory, who was peering up at him through wet eyelashes. "Wait, why do I need to need something?"
"Go back to sleep," Sirius told him, pulling his stare from James.
But James hadn't been looking at Sirius.
It was as if the room had it written all over. As if he, too, knew something was missing, as if he had known.
"Wait…"
And at the same time, Remus turned to look up at him with a torn expression— one staring at the other.
"Lily," they both said at the same time.
Except, James could not be contained to a couch the same way Sirius had managed with Remus.
"What the fuck's happened?" It was as if someone had dumped cold water on him. Whatever ache he had in his head, or sway in his stomach, took second place in light of what unraveled in front of him. He ripped his eyes from Remus to await Marjory's answer. He knew they had been on patrols together. It had been him who had assigned the two witches together. It had been him.
"Evans is with McGonagall and Dumbledore," Sirius began, a hand placed between them as if to hold him at bay. It did very little for James' vision was starting to look a lot like it would turn red. "She'll be okay."
"Why's she with them? Why would she be with them?"
"We don't know," Sirius continued, but at the same time, as if to curse him, Remus stood up and put his hand on James' shoulder. Whatever kind of friendly gesture that had been — that it was supposed to be — could shoot itself in the foot, for it felt and looked a lot like the same gestures people made at funerals.
"You don't know?" James asked.
"No."
"Someone set her on fire," Marjory whispered, once again, as if the words had been left on repeat in her head, on her lips.
How could they not, though? All she could see in front of her was the same image. All she could feel was the same feeling she had felt the entire night: as if she was reaching out for someone, and yet no one came. She began to cry, her back shaking as it enveloped her: was that how Lily had felt? Had she reached out to Marjory? Had Marjory been too far away to hear her?
If only, if only.
"Someone set her on fire. They burnt her alive, James."
The silence that ensued was unlike any other they had ever experienced. Remus leaned his back against the wall next to the fire, unable to stand but also unable to sit.
"Where is she?" James barked at Marjory, but she was shaking, stammering. She began to cry again. The tears freely stained her cheeks as she looked upon him as if they had both been there. As if he had witnessed, first hand, her failure. "Where is she!?"
"Hospital Wing, mate," Sirius responded, not meeting James' gaze. He sighed when James spun around and rushed out of the room— without wand or word.
Remus sent Sirius one last look before following James. The message was clear: James had done what Sirius could not.
Sirius, who had remained in the common room with Marjory, turned to face the weeping witch.
"This isn't your fault, you know that, right?"
But her only response was a teardrop that ran down the length of her cheek, clutching onto the edge of her chin before dropping, splashing silently on the ground.
"Potter, Lupin!"
If discretion was their aim, they failed miserably. James did not slither through that hospital door; he smashed it, and that was precisely how McGonagall was able to sidetrack them before they managed to so much as devise which bed was Lily's. The professor's robes were spread far and wide, covering much of what was in front of them as she rushed to the entrance. Remus halted in place, but James stepped forward until McGonagall was nearly hovering over him. Had she taken it an inch further, she would have been faced with nothing but James' cloth-ridden chest.
"You must go back to the tower," McGonagall mandated. "You two should not be out—"
"I need to see her. Where is she?" James stretched his neck and scanned for Lily over his professor's shoulder, but she placed a hand on his arm and forced him to turn around.
"Not now, Potter," she urged. "You must return to the tower, at once! Both of you!"
"No, I need to see her," James insisted, stepping to the side to pass her, but McGonagall had been prepared. She grabbed him by his collar, pulling him back into the corridor.
"You mustn't be here. It is dangerous."
"I don't care—"
"Well, I'm glad, Potter, but there are others who may," McGonagall exclaimed, staring at him pointedly.
"What's that s'posed to mean?" James asked.
"Who is watching the tower if not you two?"
"I don't know, Sirius?"
"You are Head Boy!" She reprimanded, eyes widening. "And you, Lupin, prefect. Need I remind you of your duties?"
"No, professor," Remus mumbled, looking down at his shoes.
"And what about you, Potter?"
James did not want to answer. He could not answer. Though it had been phrased as one, it was not a question. He knew that. Had McGonagall meant it? No one would ever really know. Maybe, it had just been an extremely clever ploy to get the two wizards to return to their dormitories, or maybe, there had been some truth to it. What mattered was that the force that fed his determination to search for Lily was now replaced and restructured elsewhere. James Potter did not readily take on roles, but when he agreed with them, he could oblige.
James Potter could be Gryffindor's protector, yes.
And then they asked why he had such an ego, pft.
"Is she going to be okay?" Remus asked her, stepping to James' side.
"Yeah, we just want to know if she'll be okay, at least," James added.
"She will be," McGonagall assured. "Now, go, and be quick."
So, Lily would suffer, but she would live. Alas, the story of life.
"Who do you think it was?" Peter asked, fully awake, somehow, at five in the morning.
Now, McGonagall claiming that, without her, James was left in charge of Gryffindor had done a number to his ego. He took it an inch past Head Boy— he had taken it upon himself to personally see out the investigation of what had happened to Lily Evans. Once back in their dorm, he collected the others and amassed them into a congregation of sorts— map out on the floor, all ruminating on the details of the last five hours— a list of who, what, when, how, and why. The last had been quickly answered— the rest needed to be sorted.
Peter sat on his own bed with his back against the head of it, legs up and pressed against his chest. Remus sat at the end of Peter's bed, his feet on the ground, next to the unfolded map. Sirius sat on the edge of the window sill between his and Peter's bed, while James stood in front of the three of them, above the map, every so often pacing back and forth.
Over and over again, all four of them hammered through a list of suspects. They would call out a name—who they thought did it—and select why it worked or did not work.
"It's obviously a Slytherin," James stated.
"Is it?" Remus asked.
"No doubt about it."
"What if it's not?"
"Who, that is not a Slytherin, can you imagine being capable of something like this?" James questioned.
"Fletcher, maybe?" Peter offered.
"No," the three of them declared collectively.
"Half blood," Sirius reminded him.
"Creepy but not cruel," James added.
"We don't know enough," Remus muttered, pursing his lips as he looked down at the map. No one was out of place— everyone was exactly where they should be. The sole oddity they could identify was Marjory Bones, who had stopped pacing in the common room only to continue in her dormitory. By then, even the midnight trysts and love affairs were sound asleep.
After McGonagall's promise, Remus had found it within himself to calm a bit. It was a nudge and nothing more, but his brain managed to keep up with what was occurring around him. He could, now, engage with James and the others, adding in his own two cents without dropping the coins.
"I don't know," James admitted with a huff, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with the cloth of his jumper. His shoulders sunk as he stared past Sirius' arm and out to the dark sky. It was morning; he could feel it in the air, but it was dark out. The winter was coming, and it would take the sun with it, too. He sighed, remaining with a blurry stare so that he could focus on the light, or lack of. "I'll fucking kill him when I do."
"Him?" Peter repeated, face pinched.
"Does it matter?"
"I guess not, not really."
"What should we do?" Remus posed to the rest of them as James removed his blind stare from the window to his hands. He did not need to see the cuts to know they were there, he could feel the sting just fine.
"Where's my wand?"
"Uh," Remus began, looking at Sirius, whose eyes bore into the side of James' scalp. "We hid it?"
"What? Why?" James asked, returning his glasses to his face so that he could watch Remus. When no response came from them, he immediately turned his attention to Sirius. Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.
"You had a bit too much to drink," Sirius eventually answered for all of them.
"And you took my wand because…?"
"We hid it," Remus responded, his eyes darting over to James' bed. "Under the bed."
"Of all the places you could hide something— you lot picked that!?" He almost scowled, walking over to his own bed to retrieve his wand from underneath it. He smiled contently, bringing it up to his eyes before packing it up and into his sleeve. He brought himself back to where they were and looked at all their steady but concerned faces.
He thought they were reserved for Lily— it made sense. Why would he think otherwise?
"What do we do?" Remus asked again.
"We wait," James answered. "Until breakfast."
"We'll go see Lily?"
"No," James scoffed. All of them looking at him as if he had just insulted them, but James had been given a mission. McGonagall had given it to him personally. Who was he to defy it? "We'll go after to Lily— first we're going to go chat with the Snakes."
"What, why'd we do that?" Remus questioned, his chin tilting inward and his face wrinkling at the suggestion. Of all the people they could chat with — McGonagall, Marjory, possibly Lily — James had selected the least favorable option.
"To see if anything happened last night," he responded.
"As if they'll admit to that," Sirius scoffed, flinching his head back as the three of them turned to look up at him. "What? What're you lot expecting they'll tell us? If it was them—"
"—it was—" James inserted.
"—if it was them, none of them will say anything, not to us," Sirius paused, thinking it over. "Not to anyone. Not to themselves, I reckon."
"We don't have to ask them who did it," Remus pointed out. "We just have to ask what happened last night. Maybe, that'll give us a clue."
"Why, what happened last night?" Sirius asked. A silence ensued as the others looked at him as if he had forgotten to check something off his task list. As if Sirius Black even had a check list. He snorted, shaking his head once. "What? You think Sykes actually did that party thing?"
"What if it was Sykes?" James posed, eyes meeting theirs one by one.
Remus held his breath. This would be a decent answer. This would explain the party, wouldn't it? For him, it made sense— throw a party and make it the perfect cover for an attack. No one would know better. No one would think it had been him, he was the host of a party.
"Doubt it," Sirius replied easily. "Sykes is too…" But he had a hard time explaining what his reasoning was, he just knew that it wasn't Alexander Sykes. "It could've been Sykes, but I highly doubt it. He's too…"
"Clean?" Peter suggested.
"Yeah," Sirius muttered, his own eyes narrowing on the map. "It's too, I don't know, dirty? Sykes would never dirty his hands with something like this."
"You're saying that this is beneath him?" Remus articulated for Sirius.
"I think so," Sirius admitted, nodding slowly.
"What do you think, Moony?" James asked.
"I don't know," Remus answered, shrugging. For some reason, even though he was still trying to piece together why Alexander Sykes had thrown a party— he couldn't help but admit that he, too, had a hard time placing the Slytherin wizard as Lily's attacker. He did not have it in him. It wasn't so much that he was too clean, but he seemed too weak-willed, and what had happened to Lily required a great deal of seeing something through 'till the end. "I don't know— but it was his party. Maybe, maybe, he'll be able to tell us something. I don't know."
"I doubt he'll talk," Sirius commented.
"No, wait," James said, eyes and knees falling to the ground, to the map. He tilted his head and searched it for the name on their lips. "But he will talk. He has to."
"Why does Sykes have to talk?" Sirius questioned, an eyebrow lifting.
"Because— we have a deal."
"Right," Remus snorted, grinning weakly and lifting his sight from James to Sirius.
What? Sirius mouthed to him, but Remus shrugged it off.
"He's in the Slytherin common room," James noted out loud.
"Common room or dormitory?" Peter corrected for him.
"Common room," James repeated, turning his gaze upward— all of them sharing a second-long befuddled, wrinkled expression.
"Right, wake me up when he leaves," Sirius told them, making way for his bed.
"I'm not going to sleep," James said, looking at Peter and Remus as the curtains behind him rustled to a close.
"I'm going back to sleep," Peter mentioned, immediately stretching out his legs behind Remus.
"I'll stay up," Remus assured him.
As if Merlin himself had heard their call, only five hours later, there was Alexander Sykes in front of them. Ever since curfew had lifted, James and Remus waited with bated breaths to watch his body maneuver the parchment before them. Sykes had, it seemed, taken to falling asleep — or sitting for a very, very long time — on an armchair. At just before ten that morning, he had woken up, or remembered that he had functioning legs, and rather than go back to his dormitory, as Remus had suggested he would do, his footsteps trailed out into the dungeons.
James had shouted, once, at Sirius to wake up— but nothing moved from his bed. There was no time to waste, for he and Remus had been waiting for hours, hours, for this very moment. So, it was the three of them — him, James, and Peter — who managed to make it a step outside of their common room while the sun was still up that morning.
"Sykes!" James called out, spotting the Slytherin still wearing the same green linen shirt from yesterday, but untied at the top and pulled out of the band of his leather pants. He swayed ever so slightly, albeit standing, while sipping on a steaming goblet of something hot.
"Merlin, he looks—"
"Pissed," Peter finished for Remus.
"Sykes," James announced again. Whoever was still in the Great Hall that morning peered over at the Gryffindor trio, but nothing else beyond James' initial shouting warranted their attention, so they simply returned to their meals and conversations. Alex, on the other hand, blinked slowly, his name only registering once the red ranks stood in front of him. He brought the goblet back to his lips, peering at them over its gold rim. "We need to talk."
"Do we?"
Alex let the goblet dangle at his side, canting against his thigh as he did a once-over of the three of them. James could not help but find his expression too similar, the same he had worn while bantering with Melisende Gamp just days ago. The fuck do you want?
"What happened last night?" James issued for the hundredth time that morning.
"Why? What happened last night?" It was almost an exact copy of the words he had thrown at Gamp, too, and there was little keeping the Gryffindor from tossing him into a wall. James Potter would not be spoken to as if he was Melisende Gamp. Not by anyone, definitely not by a Slytherin.
"Sykes," Remus intervened, eyeing James' grinding jaw. "Did you end up having the party?"
A slight twinkle in the inebriated wizard's eyes and a smug lift of a corner of his mouth indicated that, yes, he had had his party. A verbal confirmation was entirely unnecessary. Remus could put it together with just the image in front of him— Alexander Sykes did, indeed, appear as if he had yet to meet a bed.
"Want to know what happened, do you?" Alex teased, smirking. "I see what this this is. I know what this is."
"You do?" James and Peter asked at the same time. Alex nodded sluggishly.
"Yeah, you want to know if you're off the hook for Halloween."
"What? No!" James spewed while Remus' mouth opened; he wanted to smack James in the back of his head. While they were not there for that, they had to pretend at least that they were. Remember, James? "We're here—"
"Are we?" Peter interrupted, suddenly curious, but James threw him a reprimanding glance. "Wait, no, we're here because Evans is in the Hospital Wing."
"Merlin, you two," Remus breathed, pressing the corners of his eyes with his fingers.
"Huh?"
Remus, who had been worried that the drunken wizard would not accept their invitation to conversation under its honest pretense, was now standing with his breath paused, staring at Alex. The Slytherin's self-glory faltered, his entire face going with it. He had heard Peter loud and clear— that was obvious. What was not, however, was how he was able to maintain any sense of sobriety while he stank of whiskey and every other kind of liquor. If moonshine had a face, it was Alexander Sykes.
How was he even standing, much less able to grasp Peter's proclamation?
"And? What's it got to do with me?"
"And," James began in a low voice. "We want—"
"It happened last night while on patrol, fifth floor," Remus interjected, stepping forward to be shoulder-to-shoulder with the Slytherin. James' chin flinched back in response to the suddenly unreserved bluntness.
"She was attacked or...?" Alex asked, looking at all to confirm that, yes, Lily Evans had been brutalized last night. His eyes fell back on Remus. "What for?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out," Remus answered.
"As if it's not obvious," James cut in. "You know why, Sykes."
Truth be told, the Slytherin wizard genuinely seemed as if he hadn't a clue why the Gryffindor witch would be in the Hospital Wing. At least, while Remus did not fully appreciate the slight indifference, he could conclude that it was not Alex. Unless, of course, he was extremely adept at feigning innocence—then he was doing a mighty fine job of it. Except, and as they were all coming to learn, Alexander Sykes wasn't one to hold back much of anything. He simply didn't have it in him.
"How?" Alex continued, bringing the steaming goblet of coffee — Remus could smell it — back to his lips as the four entered into what could only be described as an amiable morning exchange. "What's the story?"
"Set on fire," Peter managed for the other two. Now, it was Alex's turn to be shell-shocked, but he wasn't. Remus watched every crevice, every action— not even an eye movement in the wrong direction would go unnoticed by the Gryffindor. Instead, Alex's brows lifted, and his face scrunched, an expression of disgust overtaking his features.
"Fuck, that's rough."
"Merlin," James lamented, sighing heavily. It wasn't enough for him— he hadn't come in search of a morning mumble with the Slytherin. He wanted answers, and he wanted them fast. Sykes was everything but fast, and time meant nothing to someone like Alexander Sykes. He had all morning, day, and night to chit-chat. "Can you tell us what happened last night or not? Did you see anything? Did you see anyone leave the Slytherin common room?"
"Honestly? No," Alex said.
He hadn't seen much of anything at all. He wasn't even really seeing much beyond the Gryffindor trio. He opened his mouth as if to speak but found himself with nothing to say. He made a face as if he would have liked to know, yet he did not. It was almost as if he was teasing them — himself included, actually— rising to a climax only to drop with a cliffhanger.
Before James could get his hands on him, the Slytherin's eyes fell on a body skidding behind the group.
"Oy! Kinsella!"
All four of them observed the same sight: a 12, possibly 13, year-old wearing a burgundy fisherman's jumper with black slacks and black leather shoes. His hair was buzzed short, making him almost look bald. An even dusting of freckles covered his skin, creating shadows on his cheeks. Whether intentional or not, he maintained an appearance that belied his actual age. Only his small stature indicated that he was, indeed, about 12 years old. He stopped abruptly, looking back at them from what should have been a disadvantaged position.
"Where's your cousin?" Alex inquired.
"Don't know."
"What? Got the day off?"
The three Marauders exchanged a glance, one that wondered and conveyed whether Sykes truly believed that this child standing among them now might know something they did not.
"Maybe, why?"
"Need to place a bet."
What? James mouthed to Remus, who shook his head that entailed he hadn't a clue, either.
The only thing the younger wizard did was extend his palm toward Alex.
"Seriously? You're good for it?" Alex puzzled but then shook his head as if to correct himself. "Of course you are. Right, listen, 10 to 1 on Gamp— Gamp against Evans. One way."
He stepped between the Gryffindors, standing in the center of their spontaneous circle to close in on the younger wizard. The older Slytherin looked up at the windows above, as if deep in thought. Then, he reached into the back of his waistband and pulled out what everyone knew to be a wallet. Remus looked at James, who was staring at the leather material in Alex's hand, the latter starting to unleash a hoard of gold coins from the charmed container.
"You know what?" Alex continued, handing the coins to Kinsella. "5/2 each on Avery and Mulciber, too." He gave the younger Slytherin the rest of the coins, which he took without saying a word. All Kinsella did was nod once before leaving, the money vanishing into his pockets.
Alex gazed with a satisfied smile at the younger wizard while the Gryffindors stared at him.
"The fuck was that?" James grilled, his fist balling up at his side. Alex turned him.
"What?"
"Did you just bet on Lily?" Remus interrogated.
"Yeah, you should, too," Alex replied. "Easy money."
"You're saying it was Gamp, Avery, and Mulciber?" Peter inserted.
"No, I bet that it was them. I'll let you know when—"
"You bet 10 to 1 on Gamp, though," Peter pointed out.
"Wait, did you just bet on Lily with a bloody 12-year-old?" Remus interjected, shifting to glance over his shoulder at Kinsella.
"Yeah, why?"
"You gave him 20 galleons," Peter continued, having eyed firsthand the amount that had been exchanged. His bets had never exceeded past a couple of knuts, a sickle was daring enough. It was light fun. What fun was there in losing a year's worth of allowance? "He walked away with 20 galleons— how do you know he's not going to take it?"
"That'd never happen."
"How do you know?"
"You really just bet on Lily with Kinsella?" James rehashed, voice growing dark. Alex didn't seem bothered by it, not at all. The Slytherin appeared more confused, if even that.
"Sure? With them, you can bet on anything..."
"Them?" Remus repeated.
"Yeah, how've you lot been placing bets?"
"With each other?" Peter responded.
"What? Why not with MacMurrough?"
"MacMurrough?" Peter questioned.
"That was Kinsella, though," Remus said, pointing a finger towards himself to indicate the Slytherin behind him.
"Yeah, and we're not in Slytherin," Peter stated.
"Oh, don't think you have to be a Slytherin," Alex informed them. "A bet's a bet to a MacMurrough-Kavanagh."
"Kavanagh?" All of them spat out at the same time. He stared at them as if they had come crawling out of a cave.
"Yeah, who else?"
"That was Keelan Kinsella!" James shouted, holding himself back from fully blasting the wizard into soot.
"They're cousins," Alex explained. "You can place a bet with any Kavanagh— it goes where it needs to. They know." He squinted. "Can't figure out who's the money handler. Now that I think of it, it might be Kinsella. Art's sister, Birdy, graduated... It has to be Kinsella." He sighed. "Art's a good bloke but all brawl, no brains, you know? Kind of like you, Potter."
"What'd you just say?" James sneered.
"His cousin? Wait, there's another Kavanagh at Hogwarts?" Remus probed, placing a hand on James' shoulder to hold him back.
"Yeah?" Alex told him. "Art, who else?"
"How's he a Kavanagh? His mum?"
"What? No, Lupin, where've you been? MacMurrough and Kavanagh, MacMurrough-Kavanagh— same name. You didn't know that?"
No, none of them knew. As a matter of fact, even with this handful of information, none of them could piece together how or what they were supposed to know. None of this made sense to any of them. Zero.
"Eve Kavanagh is running bets with Art MacMurrough and Keelan Kinsella?" Remus compiled the entire banter into a single question — one phrase — for all of them, ensuring that they were hearing things correctly.
"Well," Alex began, weighing his head back and forth. "I don't think Eve's doing much, but, yeah, if you hand her a bet, it'd get back to whoever's in charge. Eve's good for it, sure, why not?"
"How do you not know?" Peter wondered out loud.
"Have you met them? They don't talk that much. Hard to know anything, really."
"They're all like that?" Remus asked.
"Yeah, it's kind of a thing they do— don't speak unless spoken to. Everyone knows that."
You're having a laugh, Remus thought. He permitted himself to look back at Keelan, only to find that there was nothing about the younger wizard that indicated he was or was not related to Eve Kavanagh. Sure, why not? Certainly, his behaviors had been in line with Eve's— don't speak unless spoken to? That was definitely something Eve did. It would make sense, then, why she never greeted him in the halls or corridors unless he did first. Sure, except yesterday she had been different… What was that about, then?
No, they weren't here for Eve Kavanagh— how had the conversation, once again, steered in her direction? Merlin.
"Wait," Remus said, collecting his thoughts quickly. "Okay, whatever, okay, so you think Gamp is behind what happened to Lily, is what you're saying?"
"Who the fuck else would it be?" Alex nearly gossiped, as if that had been a sauce-y question. "Fifth floor, on patrols, set on fire?" He let out a huff of air alongside a chuckle. "Honestly, if it's not Gamp, then…" He pursed his lips to peek at the table that had slowly begun to empty. The rest of what he said remained unsaid, but, had he said anything, it would have been along the lines of how fucked he was. "Gamp's got something to do with it, definitely. I don't know if she was alone or not, though."
"How're you so sure it was her?" Remus posed as James straightened his back to look at Peter, for James did not need more than a name— a single name, right or wrong. "Did you see her?"
"Did I see her? Probably, but doesn't matter, she's bloody mad," Alex replied. "She strung up Parkinson's cat in the middle of our common room."
"What!?" James and Remus spat out in unison.
"That's true!?" Peter blustered.
"Bloody hell," Remus cursed, glancing at James.
"Yeah, what'd you think it was— a fairytale?"
"Why didn't Parkinson say something?" James returned, seeking confirmation from Remus. "Did she?"
Remus shook his head—Parkinson had already graduated. Even though she had been a prefect with Melisende Gamp, when the rumor had spread throughout the school, nothing had come of it. So, everyone chalked it up as a joke to make Gamp seem crazier than she already managed on her own.
"I've been scheduling her on rounds! No one thought to bloody say something!?"
"Like who?" Alex asked.
"Like you," James responded, shoving his finger into Alex's chest. Remus stepped between the two of them, staring down at James.
"He's helping us," Remus stated in a low enough tone that not even Alex could hear.
"Would you even listen to me?" Alex ran on, unbothered.
"Of course!"
"Yeah, right," the Slytherin snorted, drinking from his goblet. Remus stepped to his side, again, as it seemed that Alex was well beyond any retaliation for the offense he had just been dealt. The Gryffindor had to hand it to him, there were not many who could so easily oblige James Potter's impatience. "Besides— no one said anything because, fuck, mate, who wants to be on Gamp's bad side? Bloody horrifying, she is."
"She would've been expelled," Peter proclaimed.
"Yeah, right," Alex snorted for a second time. "With what proof?"
"Cowards," James seethed in a single breath.
"So, you know, is she, you know, a goner?"
"Who?" Remus asked Alex.
"Evans."
"No," James responded while Remus shook his head. Alex shrugged.
"Then, I guess we'll find out soon enough, yeah?"
Despite Alex's own thoughts on the matter, Sirius and Remus managed to rein in James the rest of the days. Yeah, maybe, he had gone one too many times to professors McGonagall and Slughorn, demanding Melisende Gamp pay up, but they had both responded with the same thing every time, 'When Evans wakes up…" It was a surefire to make James feel like a trapped dog, and James Potter hated feeling like a trapped dog. Alas, somehow, he could be convinced that going after Melisende Gamp, without knowing the full truth, would result in a less than ideal outcome, that he would end up paying up all the same. James did do what little he could, however. Immediately, he saw to it that Melisende Gamp was only responsible for anyone in name and name only. She had been torn off the prefect schedule, and though James had been ready for a fight, she had not said so much as a word about it.
"It'd be admitting she did it," Remus had told him when she waltzed into the Great Hall the morning after he had posted that week's patrol schedule. Her name nowhere to be found on it.
So, they waited.
Days passed.
A week had gone by and everyone was on the edge of their seat— questioning: When will Lily Evans wake up?
A week after the event, the entire school had learned of it. It was hard not to— the Head Girl had been absent all week. While McGonagall and Dumbledore had urged James and Remus to keep everyone at bay, to not install fear into others, they had done a mighty terrible job at it. Tensions with the Slytherins increased, the group who seemed the least disturbed by the events. Even though everyone claimed that they would not point fingers prior to Lily's awakening, they did very little to keep those emotions true and hushed during classes and in the corridors. James felt like lighting Melisende's own hair on flames every time, only to realized that her hair was too short— so he would just have to light up her whole body, instead. Yet, nothing indicated that she had done anything wrong, which — while it should've been a positive thing — only made matters worse. James and the others wanted her, or any one of them, to fuck up, but they did not. They continued to go about their business as if business was open as usual.
Why weren't they angry like he was?
Come Friday, when he was with Eve, Remus could not help fixating on the memory that Alexander Sykes bet on Lily with her cousin. The wizard had a number of questions that he would have liked to dish out to her. First, how could her family be taking bets over such a thing? Second, had a single one of them tried to go visit Lily? Third, how much money were they making off of this? Amongst about 50 other questions he had been meaning to get around to.
How could they be okay when Lily Evans was not?
Eve sat with her back pressed to the chair while Remus was hunched over, reading over her work. Except, it had gone long past the usual amount of time it took him to read over a scroll of parchment, and she was beginning to think that either he was doing it on purpose or he had gone blind and didn't want to admit it to her. She swallowed silently, because the room was so quiet that she reckoned he would hear that, too, had she not. She folded her hands one into the other and brought them to rest on her lap— almost as if her fluttering movements were meant to signal something to Remus.
"Um, Lu— Remus?" Eventually, he would have to just admit to her that he was blind, he couldn't possibly be thinking of keeping up this farce for time indefinite.
"Yeah?" She heard him say, but he didn't turn around to look at her. Her eyes narrowed down on him, watching his back. He had a finger pressed to his lip, and his hand was holding the upper section of her scroll so that it was slightly raised from the table. His foot tapped against the floor, and he kept twisting his wrist every so often to eye the wristwatch tied to it. Eve, unlike Remus, wasn't a master of observation, but she could tell when someone wanted out.
"If you want, I can ask someone else."
"Ask someone else, what?" Remus asked, this time turning his face to briefly glance at her.
"To look it over," she offered, shrugging. As if, as if she would ask someone else— it would go straight to McGonagall unrevised. She could not be bothered to hunt down someone else to go through her mistakes. Absolutely not, one person was enough as it went.
"Look this over?" Remus inquired, holding up the scroll a bit higher. Eve nodded once. "Why'd you do that?"
"I don't know," Eve answered, one watching the other. "You seem to be in a bit of a rush."
"Do I?" He had not relented the finger he held at his lips the entire time they spoke, muffling his words. Remus glanced up at the ceiling. "It's nothing." He turned back to the work in his hand, but he could not focus on the wording in front of him. He had read over the same sentence three times thinking it was the same one. Matter of fact, now that he had reverted his attention to the writing, he didn't even remember where he had been.
Merlin.
"Okay…" Eve forfeited, staring at the side of his face, listening to Remus' foot dance against the floor. She inhaled and then let it out in a big bout of air, again, as if she was trying to signal something to Remus. He looked back up at her.
"What?"
"Nothing," she said. He almost wanted to roll his eyes.
"Clearly, it's something."
"One could say the same for you," she riddled. Remus placed the paper down on the table, running a hand through his hair. The finger he had kept prisoner against his lips was finally set free.
"My friend's in the Hospital Wing," he told her pointedly, as if she had missed a fact. Eve stared at him blankly. "Lily is in the Hospital Wing." Nothing. "Evans."
"I see."
"Really?" He thought to himself, except he had said it out loud, too, by accident.
"Really, what?"
"You honestly didn't know?" Remus almost bit back.
"No, I did," Eve was quick to respond. "I didn't know that you two were friends, though."
Oh, Remus thought, his muscles loosening.
"Well, we are," he said, leaning back and abandoning the paper on the table. He tore his eyes from it and scanned the room in front of him.
Eve, too, looked around the room for a second— and then her eyes fell back on the Gryffindor who was, now, completely seated beside her. She did not know what she was meant to do. Indeed, she had heard the tales of the befallen witch— sent to a crisp all the way to the Hospital Wing. Much to no one's surprise, it had not jolted the Slytherin table in any way. No one had made it a point of anything. Maybe, behind the curtains, but not in full view, and Eve didn't let anyone behind her curtains, so she did not know what was being said. But her face fell, all the same, as she watched Remus prop his forehead with his fingertips. She spent most of the time worrying about her own state, and — apart from the times she knew she was being a royal pain — it was the first time she was seeing Remus so distraught. Distraught by something that was not her. Actually, it was one of the rare times she saw anyone be so openly distraught.
Again, this was the same person who came from the land of don't speak unless spoken to and half truths.
So, Eve felt more as if she had been left without a reference guide rather than annoyed. What was she supposed to do? And when she found herself empty-handed, her next point of reference became what was sitting right next to her: What would Remus do? What would Remus do if Remus saw Remus like this right now?
That seemed to work.
"Well, what's going on?" They were his exact words, only he did not realize it himself. Remus turned to look at her, wondering if that question had really left her mouth or not— and was he really going to start talking to Eve Kavanagh about what was going on?
"Where to begin," he mumbled, and for whatever reason, Eve had to bite back a laugh. The hidden smile did not go unnoticed, and Remus was unsure whether he should be offended or pleased with it.
"You're clearly upset," she issued, the words carefully selected and picked from his own vocabulary.
"I am," he agreed slowly.
"Why?"
"Because my friend's in the Hospital Wing," he repeated in an annoyed tone. Even if he wasn't, Eve still somehow felt as if she was missing something, as if he had already told her. Remus would argue that he had, except he hadn't. Sure, his friend was injured, but what of it? They both knew it wasn't fatal, and yet, he acted as if he was ready to carve out her gravestone.
"Surely, not because of you?"
"No," Remus answered, and despite feeling as if he should not be there right now — that he should be with Lily — he began to find the scene in front of him a tad amusing. "I did not put Lily in the Hospital Wing, Eve, no."
"Then, why're you upset?"
He blinked, wondering if he really had to explain to her for the third time what was driving him restless that Friday afternoon. It was almost as if Eve, however, had understood that that was precisely what was going to happen if she did not further articulate what was going on in her mind.
It wasn't much, but something was going on.
"She going to be okay?"
"Yeah, she's going to be okay," Remus sighed. "It's just... Everyone's waiting, you know? For her to wake up, so we can find the person who did that— this."
"Mhm," Eve said, continuing to eye the side of his face that she could see. "That's what's upsetting you?" He didn't respond right away because Remus was realizing the longer the spaces between his responses, the more information he would get out of Eve. "Not knowing?"
"Yeah, I mean," he started up again, still not looking at her. He placed a hand over his stomach, his legs stretching out underneath the table. "I don't feel great knowing there's someone who could do something like that hanging about the castle."
Melisende, Eve wanted to tell him— that someone had a name, but Eve had no business in such matters. She had no reason to call out for Melisende Gamp, no reason to place the blame there, but, honestly, it was a wonder how she had not already been caught. Eve had even placed a bet that it was Melisende Gamp. It was just too easy, and too hard not to.
Obviously, she would never tell the twitching wizard sitting next to her any of this.
"Why hasn't she woken?" Eve inquired.
"Pomfrey has her in an induced coma," he explained, taking a deep breath. "Said it helps the potions work faster if she's asleep. She doesn't let us see her, either, so I reckon she still looks terrible and hasn't healed fully." He made his hand into a fist then let it go subconsciously, fussing with his fingers. "Marjory's still not recovered from the shock. She found Lily, so she's the only person besides Dumbledore, Pomfrey, and McGonagall who's seen what Lily looks like. They've excused her from classes all week because of it. She's been in bed the entire time, hasn't showered, nothing, or so I've heard from Dorcas. I understand why Pomfrey doesn't want us seeing Lily before she's recovered... It's just annoying having to wait, you know?"
No, Eve did not know— she was used to waiting, she waited a lot, actually. She was completely fine with waiting. Apparently, Remus was not. She would file that away and probably forget about it, but she would file it away, nonetheless.
"You're annoyed because you want to see Lily, and also because you want to know who did it," Eve reiterated the entire conversation into a single sentence, more for herself than for Remus. But it forced Remus to look at her— actually look, and his fidgeting completely ceased.
"Yeah."
His demeanor changed with the small affirmation, staring at the witch next to him. She was listening. Actually listening. She had even gone so far as to call Lily by her first name. He knew that the only reason she would do that was for him. There was no other reason for her to be listening. He blinked.
Oh. But the thoughts were shoved to the back as Eve spoke up again.
"What will you do when you find out?"
"I don't know," he admitted to her. Actually, it was the first time anyone was asking who wasn't James blurting out that he would have their heads for it. Remus realized that he did not know what he was going to do when he found out, but he would do something. He had to, right?
"I reckon it depends, I suppose, on who." They were staring at one another again. "I mean, if it's a first year who fucked up, I don't know. But if it's Avery or Mulciber, I'll probably end up in Azkaban with James."
Eve let out an unwarranted laugh, and yet Remus could not help but join in when he caught her futile attempt to stop it. She pulled her stare away from him, lifting an arm to her mouth, and turned to look the other way. Remus was already grinning, despite himself, he was grinning.
"You're going to say Gryffindors, now, aren't you?" Remus couldn't help but add on, both of them full on laughing as he did. He shook his head, looking up at the ceiling as Eve steadied her breaths.
"No," she assured him. "No, but I doubt it was Cedric or Eoin."
"Do you?" Remus was back to looking at her— he forgot that Eve may have more information on the matter, vital information that he needed to figure it out. She pressed her lips together, considering his hesitance.
"They're a wee messy," she explained to him. "I think they would've been caught."
"Messy?" Remus repeated, questioning it.
"Yeah, they don't think, you know?"
"You're saying they're too slow?" Remus articulated, once again, the words of a pureblood who could not find the words themselves. He burst into a chuckle when she looked at him as if that had been the correct answer the entire time.
"Don't tell anyone I said that," she said, biting down on her lip so that she did not laugh, too. Albeit the smile on her face was enough to assure him that they were on the same page.
Even though it had been a task in and of itself, Eve was pleased to have made Remus laugh. She had, somehow, succeeded in bringing at least an ounce of life back to the force beside her. That was not something she did often, nor something that she was adept at doing, but she had done it. At least, this once, she had.
Honestly, added in a bit of humor with Sykes to lighten up the chapter. Not sure if Kinsella will be a reoccurring character or not. I love Hogwarts, even in canon it's a wild place. Harry managed to recruit an entire army in OotP, I don't put it beyond a couple Slytherins to be running a school-wide betting scheme. Someone's got to do it. I thought it'd be funny to make it Eve's cousins (why not, lol, it could be cute for later). Anything goes, really.