Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"James, get back in here before she catches you!" Peter Pettigrew’s frantic whisper carried through the air as James soared above the Potter estate. He turned sharply in mid-air, expertly manoeuvring his broom to face the direction of his bedroom window. There, looking like he was about to burst into tears, was Peter, peering nervously down at the front patio, clearly expecting James's mum to storm out and drag them both inside by the ears.

"Don’t worry, Pete!" James called back with a grin. "She doesn’t mind me practising!"

That wasn’t entirely untrue, but James knew full well that his mother’s tolerance had limits, especially when it came to his safety. It might have been late August, but the wind was cutting and cold, the kind of conditions Euphemia Potter deemed a direct route to St. Mungo’s. James, however, found it perfect for practising—if he could fly in this, he could fly in anything.

"Still!" Peter whined, his voice high-pitched with anxiety. "You should come back in! My parents will be here soon."

James rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He’d spent the better part of the morning trying to convince Peter to join him in his flying drills, but Peter wasn’t having it. Despite being fairly decent on a broom, Peter never saw the point.

"First-years never get to join the team anyway," Peter would say every time James brought it up.

But James had other ideas. Ever since his dad had taken him to see his first Quidditch match when he was seven, he’d known that flying was his calling. Watching those players zoom across the pitch, the team working together like clockwork, the crowd roaring with excitement—it was like magic within magic. From that day forward, James had set his heart on it, and when James Potter wanted something, he usually got it. After all, in his very long (eleven-year-long) life, he hadn’t yet encountered anything he couldn’t achieve.

"Alright!" James called out with a mischievous glint in his eye. "But get your arse out of the way."

"Oh no, you don’t—"

Whatever Peter was about to say was lost as James took a dive towards the window, broomstick clutched tightly in his hands. Peter yelped and dived out of the way just in time as James shot into the room. He intended to pull off a flawless 360 landing, but misjudged the size of the bedroom, only managing a half-spin before crashing onto the floor with a thud.

"You knucklehead," Peter scolded, looking down at him with a pursed expression that made him resemble a rather irritated mouse.

James just laughed, sitting up and ruffling his already messy hair. "I’ll show you what it was meant to look like at Hogwarts."

He sprang to his feet and picked up his broom. "Once I’m on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, we can use the pitch whenever we want."

"And what makes you think you’ll be in Gryffindor?" Peter asked, hopping onto James’s bed.

The question made James laugh, but not in a mean way. After all, he’d known Peter practically his entire life and was well aware of his friend’s insecurities. James might have had a natural ability to shrug off worries and laugh in the face of trouble, but Peter wasn’t quite as thick-skinned.

"Of course, I’ll be in Gryffindor," James said with utmost confidence. He walked across the room to hang his broom back on the rack, handling it with a tenderness that belied his usual carelessness. "Where else would I be?"

He cleared his throat dramatically, striking a pose that was more Fleamont Potter than his eleven-year-old self. "Gryffindor favours those of a brave heart, courage, determination, and chivalry—the noblest of all Houses!" He turned back to Peter with a wicked grin, and Peter collapsed onto the bed in a fit of laughter.

"That’s me to a tee!" James declared, puffing out his chest. "There’s no way I’m ending up anywhere else."

"Yeah, you’re probably right," Peter admitted, though his tone wasn’t as certain. "I just wish I could be as confident about it."

James squinted at his friend, taking a step closer. Peter had that slight frown on his face, the one that meant he was genuinely worried about something. Without thinking, James took a running leap and landed on the bed beside him, his head thumping against Peter’s ribs.

"Oi!" Peter yelped.

"Come on, Pete," James said, rolling onto his back. "Tell me what’s bothering you."

"Nothing!"

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" James cried and launched into a tickle attack, making Peter squirm and kick, almost catching James in the face. "Okay, okay, I yield!" Peter squealed, breathless with laughter.

James chuckled, flopping down beside him, his hair even messier than before. For all his bravado, James was a good listener when it came to his mates.

"It’s just," Peter began hesitantly, "I don’t want to disappoint my parents. I still remember the look on their faces when Philly got sorted into Hufflepuff. All their friends’ kids are in Gryffindor… you too, soon."

James turned to meet Peter’s gaze, giving him a crooked smile. He rolled onto his stomach, patting Peter’s shoulder reassuringly.

"Don’t worry about it, Pete," he said, his voice full of confidence. "I know we’ll both end up in Gryffindor, and when we do, we’ll be dormmates and have the time of our lives at Hogwarts."

"Really?" Peter asked, his voice tinged with hope.

"Have I ever been wrong?" James replied, his grin widening.

"Actually—"

"You’re not supposed to answer, you prat!" James laughed, grabbing a pillow and thwacking Peter with it.

Just as they got into a full-on pillow fight, the door creaked open, and his dad’s booming laugh echoed through the room, a sound that started deep in his chest and spread warmth through the air.

"Thought I heard you boys up here. Effie’s waiting for us downstairs. Peter, your parents should be here any—" He was interrupted by the unmistakable CRACK of someone Apparating downstairs. "—There they are."

The boys leapt to their feet, racing each other down the stairs. They’d been talking about their first trip to Diagon Alley for weeks, and now it was finally happening.

James’s mum was already in the entrance hall, dressed and ready to go, standing alongside Peter’s parents. James was in such a rush to get ready, he nearly tripped over his own shoes in his haste to put them on.

"James Fleamont Potter!"

James looked up, puzzled by the sharpness in his mother’s voice.

"Where are your glasses?"

James instinctively slapped a hand to his face, realising belatedly that it was bare.

Oh… So that’s why Peter looked so fuzzy upstairs.

"Sorry, Mum. Must’ve dropped them when I was flying earlier."

His mother shook her head, a fond smile tugging at her lips. She flicked her wand, and a moment later, his glasses zoomed into her hand. James shuffled over to her, feeling sheepish.

"You foolish boy," she murmured, placing the glasses carefully on his nose before giving his hair a loving ruffle. James pretended to groan, mostly for Peter’s benefit, but deep down, he basked in the affection.

The trip to Diagon Alley was everything James had imagined and more. His mum had prepared a list of everything he would need for his first year at Hogwarts, though she clearly didn’t trust his dad to be as thorough, considering how she’d chuckled and pulled him closer by the waist when she caught him trying to add a few "extras."

James was practically glowing with excitement as they moved through the bustling streets. The air was filled with chatter, laughter, and the kind of magic that made your skin tingle. If Hogwarts was going to be anything like this, James was certain he’d never want to leave.

For all the love and attention he received from his parents—and there was plenty of that—James had always felt like something was missing. Friends. Real ones. Sure, he had Peter, but they’d been thrown together since birth; there was no choice in the matter. James couldn’t wait to make friends on his own terms, to prove that his charm and personality were as magnetic as he thought.

They visited every shop James had ever heard of: Flourish and Blotts, where the smell of fresh parchment filled the air; Madam Malkin’s, where he was fitted for his first set of Hogwarts robes; and, of course, Quality Quidditch Supplies, where after some strategic begging, James convinced his parents to buy him the latest Nimbus 1001.

His dad even took him on a detour to Gringotts, where he was shown the private vault his parents had set up for him. His dad made it clear James wasn’t to touch it until he was of age, but still handed him a generous sum of pocket money.

"Just don’t flaunt it in front of your classmates—or your mother!"

Their last stop for the day was Ollivander’s—James’s most anticipated visit. He’d been thinking about his first wand ever since he could remember, imagining all sorts of magical possibilities. Peter went in first, with his parents trailing behind. When he came out, he was already in a right state, going on about how his wand’s core was unicorn hair, as if that was some sort of tragedy. His mum was fussing over him, trying to convince him it was perfectly fine, while his dad kept nodding along, half-listening.

James, on the other hand, had no such worries. He took a deep breath and then strutted towards Ollivander’s with all the confidence of someone who had already pictured this moment a thousand times. His parents had made it clear he’d be going in alone. "A young wizard’s first wand was personal business," his dad had said, ruffling James’s hair as if that was supposed to be reassuring. James secretly thought they were just excited to have a few minutes alone.

The bell above the door chimed softly as he entered, the sound sending a thrill through him. The shop smelled of dust and old wood, and it was darker inside than he expected. Behind the counter stood an old man with pale eyes that seemed to see straight through him, and skin that was almost as white as the parchment stacked in his father’s study.

“Welcome, Mr. Potter. I’ve been expecting you,” Mr. Ollivander said, his voice soft and mysterious.

James felt a flicker of excitement at being recognised, but he kept his expression steady, just as his mum had taught him. “Pleasure to meet you, sir,” he replied, giving his best attempt at a respectful nod, though it came off more like a confident bob of the head. He couldn’t help but grin as he stepped up to the counter, feeling a bit like a character from one of his favourite adventure books. “I’d like to purchase a wand.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of Galleons, dropping them onto the counter with a satisfying clink. “I hope this will suffice,” he added, with a bit more flair than necessary.

Mr. Ollivander chuckled, a sound that was both kind and ancient. “It will, my dear boy. But the wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. Not the other way around.”

The old man turned and began inspecting the countless shelves filled with boxes, his long fingers brushing over them as though they might speak to him. “I still remember the day your father, Fleamont, came to purchase his first wand… and your grandfather Henry, as well. You Potter men have a certain charm about you, I must say.”

James tried to appear interested, but his eyes were already wandering, taking in the vast collection of wands. His gaze settled on a maroon velvet case, tucked away as though it was waiting just for him. There was something about it—something that pulled at him, like the wand itself was calling his name.

“Can I try that one, sir?” he asked, interrupting Mr. Ollivander mid-ramble.

The wandmaker turned, a little taken aback. He hadn’t even had a chance to present any options yet. “Certainly, Mr. Potter,” he said, a hint of surprise in his tone as he moved towards the case.

He opened it with a careful hand. “A mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable—”

James grabbed it before Mr. Ollivander had even finished speaking. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the wand, a warm surge of energy shot through him, like being hit with a brilliant burst of sunshine on a cold day. It was perfect. No doubt about it. This was the one.

“—Phoenix feather core,” Mr. Ollivander continued, now smiling with a kind of quiet satisfaction. “The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter… but in this case, it seems your intuition did not fail you.”

James’s grin stretched so wide it nearly hurt. He gave the wand a few test swings, marvelling at how naturally it moved with him. Like it was an extension of his own hand. “Thank you so much, sir,” he said, beaming with the sort of happiness that made him feel lighter than air.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Potter,” Mr. Ollivander replied, watching him with that same knowing smile.

Before James left to rejoin his parents and the Pettigrews—who were probably still sorting out Peter’s panic—he remembered he needed to pay for the wand. Mr. Ollivander had told him it was seven Galleons, but James left eight on the counter, just in case. He figured it was worth it.

Chapter Text

On the morning James Potter was supposed to take the train to Hogwarts, he was practically vibrating with excitement, like someone had put a hex on him to make him jittery. His hair, usually just messy, now looked like he’d stuck his finger in a plug socket. It was sticking out in every direction, mostly due to him constantly running his fingers through it every few minutes. His mum had tried her best to tame it earlier, keeping him in front of the mirror for what felt like ages, but all her efforts had been for nothing.

King’s Cross was heaving with people, the usual Muggle chaos only heightened by the presence of magical folk trying to blend in—or not trying at all, in some cases. The Potters and Pettigrews were standing in the thick of it. Peter looked a right state, cheeks flushed like he might faint any second and his eyes wide like a rabbit caught in wand light. He was practically glued to his mum’s side, as if she might shield him from the terror of the unknown that lay just beyond the barrier.

James, noticing Peter’s distress, expertly detached himself from his own mum’s fussing and wheeled his trolley over to his mate. “I can go first, mate. You’ll see, there’s nothing to be nervous about.” His tone was cheerful, with that careless confidence only James Potter could muster in the face of something as monumental as a first day at Hogwarts.

Peter’s smile was weak, but it was there. “Thanks, mate.”

James grinned back, always ready to be the one to take the lead. He lined himself up between platforms 9 and 10, his heart thumping in his chest but his face showing nothing but determination. 

“Be careful, James,” his mum’s voice rang out, full of that usual motherly concern.

“He’ll be fine, Effie,” his dad added, his tone one of patient amusement.

James shot a quick look at his parents, giving them a crooked, reassuring smile before grabbing his trolley firmly and sprinting headlong at the barrier. He couldn’t help the small thrill of anticipation that built in his chest just before he hit it.

Then, like magic (because it was, after all), he was through, onto Platform 9¾. The air here was different—thick with the hum of magic and the smell of coal smoke. He could see the scarlet steam engine waiting, just as his parents had described it to him: grand, gleaming, and with an old-world charm that made his chest swell with pride. He was finally here. Hogwarts was only a train ride away.

Before long, his parents appeared behind him, and the Pettigrews followed shortly after. Peter was already looking like he might cry, lip wobbling as he tried to say goodbye to his parents. It was then that it really hit James: he’d have to say goodbye too. He hadn’t thought about it much, hadn’t let himself, really. But now, standing here on this magical platform, the realisation crashed over him like a rogue wave. This was the first time in his life he’d be without his parents. The longest he’d ever been away was a night or two at Peter’s, and now he was about to be gone for months. Suddenly, he felt smaller, like he’d shrunk in his shoes.

As if reading his mind, his dad appeared in front of him, kneeling down to meet his eyes. “Don’t worry, James. You’re a Potter, and you’re my son. You’re going to have the time of your life at Hogwarts. I know it’s a school and you’re meant to learn, but don’t forget to have fun, too. These are the years you’ll remember forever.”

His dad smiled and ruffled his hair, making James giggle despite the knot in his stomach. Fleamont shot a quick look over his shoulder—probably to make sure his mum wasn’t watching—before dipping his hand into his pocket. James tried to see what he was doing, but his dad was too quick. Next thing he knew, his dad was hugging him, and James felt something small and round slip into his pocket.

“For your future mischief,” his dad whispered, pulling back with a wink. The gesture made James’s heart swell, the anxiety loosening its grip slightly.

His mum wasn’t about to let Fleamont have the last word, though. She swooped in, wrapping him up in one of her classic bear hugs that nearly crushed the air out of him. James buried his face in her shoulder for a moment, thinking about how much he’d miss this—her hugs, her smell, the way she always knew what to say. 

“Take care of yourself, James. Be careful. Study hard. Make friends. Listen to your professors. And not too many pranks—”

“Dear lord, Effie, you expect the poor boy to keep all that in his head?” Fleamont interjected with a teasing grin, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, I know,” his mum sighed, cupping James’s face in her hands and staring at him like she was trying to memorise every detail. “Promise to write, and we’ll see you at Christmas.”

James smirked. “Yeah, I’ll send you my Christmas list.” His mum raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “And how I’m doing, what I’m eating, about my friends, and my schedule. Even my homework if you want.”

She laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You foolish boy.”

James grinned back at her, but his attention was already drifting to Peter, who still looked reluctant to leave. He wasn’t having it, though. There was no time for nerves. “Come on, Pete. I’ll race you inside!” 

With that, he nudged Peter’s arm and took off, making a beeline for the train carriage.

“Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad! I love you!” he shouted over his shoulder, darting up the steps and into the narrow aisle outside the compartments. He glanced back, catching Peter’s eye as his mate trailed behind, and stuck his tongue out, feeling the thrill of adventure bubbling up again. But when he turned back, the door to one of the compartments suddenly swung open, and James had to skid to a halt to avoid crashing into it.

From beneath his fringe, he looked up to see a boy about his age glaring down at him, all haughty like James had just done something terribly offensive. James quickly straightened up, his own glare forming. Who was this tosser, and why was he looking at him like that? It’s not like James had actually run into him.

“Watch where you’re going, you tosser,” the boy snapped. He had long, straight black hair, the sort that looked like it hadn’t seen a good wash in days, and a nose that seemed permanently scrunched in distaste.

James bristled. “I didn’t even touch you, calm your bollocks.” He bit his cheek immediately after. That had come out a bit harsher than intended.

Mum would have a fit if she knew my first words to a new classmate involved swearing.

“It’s fine, Sev,” came a voice from behind the boy, soft and calming. James shifted his gaze and felt his mind go blank.

The girl who appeared behind the black-haired boy had thick dark red hair tied back in a neat plait. Her skin was pale but somehow radiant, especially compared to her sickly-looking companion. Her cheeks had a faint pink hue, and delicate freckles were scattered across them and her nose.

Their eyes met, and something inside James flipped, like a nervous flutter he couldn’t quite place. Her eyes were large, almond-shaped, and a shade of green so striking they could’ve been emeralds. Green… had green always been such a pretty colour?

A nudge on his arm pulled him back to reality, and James glanced to his side to see Peter standing there, looking confused. James shook his head, blinking rapidly. Had he been staring? How long had he been standing there like a numpty? And why had he suddenly started thinking about colours? His favourite colour was red, for Merlin’s sake.

“We should go,” the girl said, placing a hand on the black-haired boy’s arm. James felt his shoulders tense. Her green eyes flicked back to him, and she gave him a small, apologetic smile. James’s stomach did that weird flip again.

The odd pair disappeared down the aisle, and James was left standing there, trying to regain his composure. Peter nudged him again.

“What was that about?” Peter asked, looking a bit bewildered.

“Nothing,” James said quickly, pushing his glasses up his nose. He wasn’t the type to get lost in his head like that. “We should find somewhere to sit.”

He turned to the compartment the two had just left, pressing his nose against the glass to sneak a peek inside. To his surprise, it wasn’t empty. A boy sat inside, looking about their age, but that was where the similarities ended. The boy’s clothes were shabby, like they were hand-me-downs. His hair was completely shaved, and his eyes were glassy. James’s gaze caught on the blackened skin around one of the boy’s eyes, and he swallowed. He looked so different from the young pure-blood wizards James had met at his parents’ parties.

Unease twisted in James’s gut, but something else overpowered it—the realisation that the pair had left this boy all alone. That didn’t sit right with him at all. He turned to Peter.

“There’s only one person in here. We won’t get a compartment to ourselves anyway, not with how many people there are.”

Peter was still gawking through the glass when he looked up at James, a sceptical expression on his round face. 

“Are you sure about this, mate? I mean, look at his clothes—and his face. He must’ve been in a right scrap!”

James furrowed his brows, a look of determined disapproval that made him look uncannily like his mother.

“Don’t be like that, Pete. You don’t even know him.”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he started fiddling with the hem of his robes, his voice going high and strained. “I-I didn’t mean anything bad by it! I just thought… well, he doesn’t exactly look like he’s up for company, does he?”

James tilted his head, a perplexed look behind his round glasses. Peter was worrying too much, as usual.

“What do you mean? No one wants to be alone on their first day of school!”

Certain that he was right, James rapped on the door with a short, cheerful rhythm before pushing it open and strolling inside as if he owned the place.

“Hiya,” he said with a wide grin, holding out his hand to the boy slouching in his seat, who was clearly trying to look as small and unapproachable as possible. “First year? Me too. I’m James.” He nodded over his shoulder at Peter, who had crept in behind him, looking nervous. “This is Peter.”

The boy eyed James warily before shaking his hand. “Remus.”

James took a seat without waiting for an invitation, gesturing for Peter to do the same. “Can we sit here? Everywhere else is full, and Peter’s getting train-sick.”

“Am not,” Peter muttered, although he did look a bit green around the gills. He sat down opposite Remus, still eyeing him as though he might jump up and hex them at any moment. His hands were clasped tightly together in his lap, and he seemed to be staring intently at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

“Know what House you'll be in?” James asked brightly, turning back to Remus. He’d been thinking about it all summer, so he reckoned everyone else must have been too. But Remus just shook his head. James, undeterred, pressed on. “What were your parents in? Did they go to Hogwarts?”

Remus nodded slowly, looking uncomfortable. “My dad did. I dunno what House, though. My mum didn't. She was nor—a Muggle.”

Peter looked up at that, curiosity piqued. “You’re a half-blood?”

Remus gave a helpless shrug, as if he wasn’t sure what to say to that. 

“Shut up, Pettigrew,” James said, rolling his eyes. “As if it even matters.”

James had been brought up to believe that blood status was about as important as whether you liked jam on your toast. He knew some pure-bloods made a big deal about it, but his parents had always taught him that it was rubbish to treat people differently based on something so silly. So, even though James was a pure-blood, he couldn’t see much difference between himself and half-bloods or Muggle-borns. Maybe they didn’t know as much about the magical world, but that hardly counted for anything.

Just then, the door slid open again, and a fourth boy walked into the compartment. He was tall and slim, with dark hair that brushed his shoulders. His high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes gave him an air of someone who had been born to expect the world to fall at his feet—he looked more like the posh kids James sometimes saw at his parents’ fancy parties. The boy glanced around, as though checking for something.

“None of you are related to me, are you?”

James felt his lips twitch, suppressing a laugh. This was going to be interesting.

“Don’t think so,” he replied with a grin, holding out his hand once more. “James Potter.”

The boy shook his hand easily, a smirk forming on his face. 

“Oh good, a Potter. Dad told me not to talk to you.” He dropped into the seat next to Remus, still grinning. “Sirius Black.”

Chapter Text

As the train chugged along, pulling them closer to the grand silhouette of Hogwarts, James felt a thrill of excitement bubbling up inside him. He turned to the three boys he'd just met, a grin spreading across his face. 

“So, where do you lads think you’ll end up?” he asked, his voice brimming with anticipation. The students in the compartment were already starting to change into their uniforms, the reality of Hogwarts just minutes away. “I’m hoping for Gryffindor.”

“Gryffindor?” Sirius scrunched up his nose, looking as if he'd just smelt something foul. “Really?”

James, being James, completely missed any scepticism lurking in Sirius’s tone. He flashed his brightest smile, the one that could usually charm anyone into agreeing with him. “Yeah, my dad was a Gryffindor. I think it’s the coolest, don’t you?”

But beneath that confidence, there was a niggling doubt, a tiny inkling as to why Sirius didn’t seem all that keen on the idea. The Blacks, after all, weren’t exactly on the Potters’ Christmas card list. They were both pure-blood families, sure, but the Blacks had, as his dad often said with a raised eyebrow, "a rather different view of the world."

James glanced at Sirius, taking in the sharp contrast between them. Sirius had these piercing, almost intimidating eyes that seemed to see right through you, while James’s own eyes were round, warm, and a bit mischievous. Sirius’s features were sharp, almost aristocratic, making him look older and more composed, whereas James’s face still held a certain boyishness, despite his best efforts to appear mature. Sirius’s hair was a mass of dark, perfectly styled curls, not a strand out of place, while James’s hair had a mind of its own, always sticking up as if he’d just gotten off his broom—despite his best efforts to tame it.

And yet, despite all these differences, James felt an odd connection to Sirius, like they were two sides of the same coin. Perhaps it was the spark of rebellion he sensed in Sirius, something that resonated with his own restless spirit.

Before Sirius could reply, Peter piped up, his voice eager and high-pitched. “I do! I want to be in Gryffindor too, James!”

James beamed at Peter, feeling a surge of affection for the small, mousy boy.

“What’s a Gryffindor?” came a quiet voice from the corner.

James turned to see Remus Lupin watching them with those big, round eyes that seemed to take in everything while giving nothing away. He hadn’t said much so far, just observed, looking a bit lost whenever the conversation veered too far into the wizarding world. James found it a bit odd—surely, even if his mum was a Muggle, his dad must’ve told him something about all this?

But before he could dwell on it, James launched into an explanation of the Hogwarts Houses, his enthusiasm carrying him away. “So, Gryffindor is all about loyalty, bravery, and honour.” He couldn’t help but feel he was describing himself, but really, wasn’t it just a fact that he was made for Gryffindor?

“Hufflepuff is all about acceptance—they’re really, er, kind, I suppose, and they’ve got a lot of hidden talent.” He tried to sound positive, thinking of Peter’s older sister who was in Hufflepuff. No need to make Pete feel bad.

“Ravenclaws are really clever, their House is all about brains.” He hadn’t actually met many Ravenclaws, but that’s what he’d heard, and it sounded about right.

“And Slytherin… well, they’re supposed to be, er... cunning and ambitious. Don't really understand how that's different from being smart, but they're ambitious too.” He lowered his voice a bit, as if he might conjure a snake just by saying the word. “Honestly, a lot of dark wizards have come from Slytherin. Almost all of them, actually. I’d steer clear if I were you, mate.” He nodded towards Remus, who looked slightly alarmed.

“Reckon I’ll be in Slytherin,” Sirius said, frowning slightly as if it was an unpleasant inevitability.

James blinked, taken aback. “Aw, come on, surely not!”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking at James as if he were a bit thick. “My whole family’s in Slytherin. Big tradition. Hasn’t been a Black in another House for about five hundred years.”

James felt his face flush with heat. Had he just managed to insult Sirius’s entire family legacy on their first proper conversation? Brilliant, Potter. Just brilliant.

“Oh, sorry, mate,” he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t realise… Well, cheers, I’m sure there're plenty of cool Slytherins! My family’s just a bit partial to Gryffindor, that’s all.” He forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look too forced.

To his immense relief, Sirius smiled back, a genuine one this time. “Nah, don’t worry about it. My family’s the worst,” he said, laughing a little, and James found himself chuckling along, albeit awkwardly.

“I’m sure I’ll get stuck in Hufflepuff,” Peter moaned dramatically, flopping back onto his seat as if the mere thought was too much to bear.

“Now, come on, Pete, don’t be like that… Hufflepuff’s cool too, all the Houses are great…” James trailed off, trying to sound convincing. He shot a glance at Remus, wondering if his explanations had made any sense to him. But Remus was staring out of the window, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, the trees flashing by reflected in his eyes.

*  *  *

As James entered the Great Hall, his eyes darted about, trying to take in everything at once. The ceiling, bewitched to resemble the night sky, was awe-inspiring, but what really caught his attention were the students. All of them were dressed in black robes, and the only thing that set them apart was the colour of their ties. James tugged at his own plain black one. It wouldn’t be long before it turned scarlet, the infamous colour of Gryffindor. He couldn’t help but grin at the thought.

He glanced over at the boys he’d spent the train ride with. Sure, he still wanted to be in the same House as Peter, his first friend, but it wasn’t just about Peter anymore. Sirius had this magnetic energy about him that James found utterly fascinating. He wanted to know more about him, to hang out with him, to be his friend. Remus, on the other hand, was different—quieter, more reserved—but that just made James more curious. There was a mystery to Remus that made James feel oddly protective of him. He wanted Remus to enjoy Hogwarts as much as he did, and maybe, just maybe, the four of them could end up in the same House. They could be friends, real friends, maybe even best friends one day.

Professor McGonagall, a stern-looking witch with a tight bun and a no-nonsense expression, was standing beside a stool holding the infamous Sorting Hat. James watched as she called the first name.

“Simon Arnold!”

The boy shuffled forward, the hat was plonked on his head, and after a brief moment, it shouted, “Hufflepuff!” The Hufflepuff table erupted in applause, and James couldn’t help but smile. Simon looked relieved as he made his way over to his new Housemates.

Then, it was Sirius’s turn. James noticed that his usually confident friend looked a bit pale as he walked towards the stool. “You got this, mate,” James mouthed, giving him two enthusiastic thumbs up. He caught sight of the Slytherin table, where some older students were heckling Sirius. Two girls in particular, with the same striking features as Sirius, were smirking at him. The tension in the hall was palpable as the hat was placed on Sirius’s head. James held his breath, silently willing the hat to shout Gryffindor.

“Gryffindor!” the hat finally bellowed.

For a moment, the hall was silent, as if no one could quite believe what had just happened. Then, the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers. McGonagall lifted the hat off Sirius’s head, giving him a rare, small smile. But Sirius looked horrified, his eyes flicking nervously towards the Slytherin table, where the two girls were now glaring daggers at him. He trudged over to the Gryffindor table, looking like he’d just been sentenced to detention for a year.

The Sorting continued, and James found himself holding his breath each time one of his new friends was called.

“Lily Evans!” McGonagall announced, and to James’s surprise, the girl from the train stepped forward. His heart did a weird little flip, and he felt a strange, tugging sensation in his stomach. She was sorted into Gryffindor too, and James couldn’t help but grin as she took a seat next to a very miserable-looking Sirius.

Soon, it was Remus’s turn. James crossed his fingers behind his back, a little nervous for the boy who’d been so quiet on the train.

“Gryffindor!” the hat called, and Remus, looking relieved, hurried over to join Sirius and Lily.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, McGonagall called, “Peter Pettigrew!” James gave Peter a quick pat on the back as he scurried forward.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” he whispered.

The hat seemed to take forever with Peter, and James could see his friend getting more and more anxious as the seconds ticked by. But at last, the hat declared him a Gryffindor, and Peter practically sprinted over to join the others.

“James Potter!”

He bounced up to the stool, practically vibrating with excitement. As he sat down, he gave McGonagall his most charming grin. The hat had barely touched his head when it shouted, “Gryffindor!”

He looked up at McGonagall confused. Had she even put the hat on him? She gave him a calm nod with a new sort of friendliness in her eyes.

“You’re good to go, Mr. Potter,” she said in a low voice.

James beamed, jumping off the stool and making his way to the Gryffindor table with a swagger in his step.

“How great is that!” he said, plopping down next to Sirius. “We all made it!”

Sirius groaned, burying his face in his arms. “Speak for yourself,” he muttered. “My father’s going to kill me.”

Peter, meanwhile, looked like he was in shock. “I can’t believe it,” he kept saying, wringing his hands and shooting anxious glances around the hall as if someone might drag him back to the stool and make him try again.

James rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Pete. The hat’s never wrong.”

To James’s surprise, McGonagall appeared beside them. She placed a bony hand on Remus’s shoulder. “Mr. Lupin,” she said quietly, but not so quietly that the other boys couldn’t hear, “if you would come to my office after dinner? It’s next to the Gryffindor common room. One of the prefects will show you.”

Remus nodded, looking a bit pale, and she walked away.

“What was that about?” James asked, curiosity piqued. “McGonagall wants to see you already?”

Even Sirius, still sulking, looked up. But Remus just shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. James could tell there was more to it, but before he could press, the tables suddenly filled with food, and all thoughts of McGonagall and her mysterious summons were pushed aside.

After dinner, a Gryffindor prefect named Frank Longbottom led the first-years to their common room in one of the towers. As they made their way down the corridor, James noticed Remus slipping away from the group, heading towards what he assumed was McGonagall’s office. Without really thinking, James grabbed Sirius’s arm.

“Oi, hang back a minute, lads. Let’s see if Remus wants us to wait for him.”

Sirius blinked, then shrugged. Peter looked a bit put out but didn’t argue. James jogged down the corridor to catch up with Remus.

“Want us to wait for you, mate?” James asked, trying to sound casual.

Remus looked at him, eyebrows raised in suspicion. “Why?”

James shrugged. “So you don’t end up on your own.”

Remus stared at him for a moment, then shook his head slowly. “No. I’m fine.” He knocked on McGonagall’s door.

“Enter,” came a voice from within. Remus shot James a final glance before disappearing inside.

James turned around to find Sirius and Peter had followed him. “Well?” Peter asked. “Are we waiting?”

“Nah, you go on ahead,” James replied, still smiling, though he felt a bit disappointed.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Peter asked, clearly not keen on the idea of heading to the common room alone.

“I’ll stick around a bit. He missed the password from Frank.”

Peter hesitated, glancing nervously between James and Sirius. “Oh, come on then,” Sirius sighed, rolling his eyes. Reluctantly, Peter followed him back towards the common room.

Alone again, James slid down the wall, pulling out his wand and absentmindedly flicking it, sending little sparks flying. He watched the portrait that led to the common room as the last students filed inside. His eyes widened when he saw Lily Evans with two other girls, laughing at something. She caught his eye, and he felt his face heat up. She rolled her eyes but, for a split second, he was sure he saw the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. The next moment, she was gone.

The door creaked open, pulling James out of his thoughts. He jumped to his feet as Remus emerged.

“Told you I’d be okay,” Remus said, looking a bit annoyed. James just smiled.

“Yeah, but you missed Longbottom giving us the password. Didn’t want you stuck out here all night. C’mon.”

James led him down the corridor to the painting of a large, plump woman in pink. “Widdershins,” he said, and the portrait swung open, revealing the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

The common room was exactly as James had imagined it would be—warm, cosy, and full of life. There were squashy armchairs and sofas, a thick maroon rug in front of a roaring fire, and paintings of all sorts of magical creatures and people adorning the walls. It reminded James of home, and he felt a rush of excitement at the thought of living here with his friends.

“We’re up here,” James said, leading Remus up a winding staircase to a door that opened into their dormitory. The room was just as inviting as the common room, with four enormous beds draped in thick red curtains, a fireplace, and shelves by each bed. Peter was already there, rifling through his things and making a terrible mess.

“I can’t find my wand!” Peter wailed, panic setting in. “Mum made me pack it so I wouldn’t lose it on the train, but it’s not here!”

James grinned. “Pete, your mum asked me to look after it, remember?”

James chuckled to himself as he bounced over to his trunk, which was neatly placed between Sirius’ and Peter’s beds. He prided himself on being an organised packer, so it didn’t take long to find Peter’s wand. He tossed it to Peter with precise aim, grinning as his friend’s eyes went wide with relief. James reached out to ruffle Peter’s blond hair, a gesture that had become second nature. He was used to looking after Peter—not that he minded. It felt good, being someone others could rely on.

But as he turned around, his smile faded a bit when he saw Sirius sitting on his bed, his trunk still untouched. James wandered over, trying to think of something encouraging to say.

“Cheer up, mate,” he said, plonking down beside Sirius. “You didn’t want to be in Slytherin anyway, did you?”

“Five hundred years,” Sirius muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. “Every Black at Hogwarts has been sorted into Slytherin for five hundred years.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Well, it’s about time someone tried to be different, eh?” He slapped Sirius on the back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

To his relief, Sirius’s frown softened, and he began to unpack, pulling out book after book from his trunk. James watched, pleased, before turning back to his own things. He found his Quidditch poster and eagerly pinned it to the wall above his bed, taking a step back to admire it. 

He couldn’t help but hope that Sirius would come to like Gryffindor. James hadn’t known him for long—less than a day, really—but he already felt certain that Sirius belonged here. He was far too cool, far too confident, to fit in with those stuffy Slytherins.

Once his poster was up, James glanced over his shoulder to check on Sirius, who was now stacking books that didn’t fit on his shelf beside his bed. James blinked, noticing just how many there were.

“You know,” James said casually, “there is a library here.”

Sirius smirked. “I know, but these are mostly Muggle books. My Uncle Alphard left them to me, and Mum would set them all on fire if I left them at home.”

Peter’s eyes went wide, and he peered curiously at the books. James, curious as well, picked up one of them, turning it over in his hands. It looked like the storybooks his mum used to read to him, except the pictures didn’t move. A bit dull, really, but he supposed he wasn’t one to judge—reading had never been his favourite pastime. Too much sitting still for his liking.

As Sirius finished with the books, he pulled out a strange-looking box with a black turntable on top. James furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out what it was. Sirius then pulled out a box of what looked like very thin book sleeves—though they didn’t seem to have any pages. Before James could ask, Remus stepped over, eyes full of wonder.

“Is that Abbey Road?!” Remus asked, his earlier wariness momentarily forgotten.

“Yeah,” Sirius grinned, handing it to him. Remus carefully wiped his hands on his robes before taking it, handling it with what looked like reverence.

“You must be Muggle-born,” Sirius said, sounding intrigued. “Never met a wizard who knows The Beatles—except my cousin, Andromeda. She bought them for me.”

James blinked, bewildered. He knew what beetles were, obviously, but Sirius talked about them as if they were people. How odd.

Remus nodded, though he seemed only half-listening, too absorbed in the record.

“I love The Beatles,” Remus said, a hint of longing in his voice. “One of the boys in my room at home’s got at least ten singles, but he never lets me touch them.”

“Boys at home?” Sirius arched an eyebrow. “You mean your brother?”

James found himself inching closer, just as curious as Sirius about Remus’s family.

“No,” Remus shook his head, handing back the record and shrinking away slightly. “I live in a children’s home.”

“Like an orphanage?” Peter asked, wide-eyed.

Remus’s eyes darkened, his brow furrowing. “No,” he spat, turning back to unpack the rest of his things in stony silence.

James felt a knot of worry form in his stomach. He wasn’t entirely sure what a children’s home was, but if it was the kind of place that gave Remus that bruise… well, it didn’t seem like a nice place at all.

Eventually, Sirius asked James about his Quidditch poster, clearly eager to change the subject. James was glad to oblige, launching into a passionate discussion about the latest line-up for the Chudley Cannons. Their conversation quickly turned into a heated debate, with both boys throwing in their opinions, until Remus climbed into bed and pulled the curtains shut.

There was a pause, and then Peter whispered loudly, “You’d think he’d try harder to make friends. Especially if he’s Muggle-born.”

Sirius stiffened beside James, who suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment. For the first time, he was embarrassed by Peter—both for his condescending attitude towards Muggle-borns, and because it seemed to hit a nerve with Sirius. James didn’t want Peter to ruin their chances of becoming friends with Sirius and Remus. He wanted them to like him—so badly.

“Are you sure the hat wasn’t supposed to put you in Slytherin?” Sirius drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Peter went quiet after that.

Chapter Text

Dear Mum and Dad,

Hello from Hogwarts! See, I’m writing to you just like I promised. Classes start Monday, so we’ve got a few days to roam the castle and get settled in. The castle’s brilliant—it’s just like you described, especially Gryffindor Tower! Oh, and guess what? I made it into Gryffindor!

James was positively buzzing with excitement. Finally, Hogwarts. The place he’d heard about his whole life, the place where all the best adventures were waiting to happen. He’d never really spent much time away from home before, and now, here he was, with a whole castle to explore, all on his own terms. Well, almost on his own terms—he was bound to get a letter from his mum if he stepped too far out of line. But that was a future James problem. Present James was too busy soaking up every inch of Hogwarts like a sponge. Living here on his own triggered a mischievous streak—a trait he knew he’d inherited from his dad. His dad was always good for a laugh, but he never quite crossed the lines of what his mum found acceptable. James, on the other hand, was finding that Hogwarts was the perfect place to draw those lines wherever he fancied.

What made James happiest, though, was knowing he’d never have to be lonely at Hogwarts. He spent his days running all over the castle with Sirius, poking around all the hidden spots his parents had told him about. They’d already discovered a few secret passageways, though they hadn’t quite figured out where they all led yet—plenty of time for that. Evenings were spent in the Gryffindor common room, huddled up by the fire, playing chess, Gobstones, or Exploding Snap with the other students.

And they talked. Merlin, did they talk. James had never had a friend like Sirius before. He’d always been able to make Peter laugh, but Peter wasn’t quick enough on the draw for proper banter. Sirius was a whole different story. Bright, cheeky, and just as mad about Quidditch as James was—they could go on about it for hours without ever getting bored. It was like they were in a world of their own, a place where only they existed, and no one else could break in.

Peter was still with them, of course. James wouldn’t dream of leaving him behind. They’d been thick as thieves since they were little, and the thought of not having Peter around was unthinkable—like losing a limb or your shadow.

I’ve already made friends! There’s this boy, Sirius Black—he’s in Gryffindor too, and I think we’re going to be best mates! I’m hoping he’ll want to come over to our place during the holidays—you guys would love him, I’m sure of it! He likes pranks just like us, Dad (sorry, Mum).

But even with Sirius and Peter, James couldn’t help but keep an eye out for someone else—Remus. The three of them got on like a house on fire, always sticking together, but Remus was different. He seemed like he wanted to be part of it all, but something held him back. He’d slip away with his map and his wand, disappearing into the castle without a word. James tried to watch out for him, wondering if maybe Remus had other friends he was meeting up with. But every time James spotted him, Remus was alone. It bothered James more than he cared to admit. He kept trying to catch Remus’s eye, silently inviting him to sit with them at dinner, but Remus always stayed a few feet away, not saying a word. James wanted to be friends with him, but maybe Remus just didn’t feel the same.

I have two other dormmates too! Peter made it into Gryffindor, thank Merlin, so we’re sharing a room now. It’s like all the sleepovers we used to have back home, but even better since we each have our own bed. Please tell Mrs. Pettigrew I’m taking good care of him—I won’t let him get lonely. There’s also Remus, Remus Lupin. He’s a half-blood—do you know his dad? It’s his dad who’s the wizard. I met him on the train, and he seems nice and cool. I’m trying my best to be his friend! But he goes off on his own a lot… I hope we haven’t done anything to make him feel bad. What do you think I should do?

Love from your son,

James

*  *  *

Sunday 5th September 1971

They’d grown somewhat used to Remus giving them the slip by the time Sunday rolled around, so when they came back to their dorm that evening and found his bed empty, they didn’t think much of it. James had spent the day with Sirius and Peter, roaming the grounds, especially the Quidditch pitch, which had quickly become one of his favourite spots at Hogwarts.

After they got back, Sirius insisted on putting on a record from his strange Muggle turntable—a contraption James still wasn’t quite sure about. Sirius was always going on about how this thing was special, calling it Abbey Road like it was some sort of magical artefact. James tried to follow along as the music played, but the lyrics were odd, and he kept interrupting to ask Sirius about them. Peter didn’t seem fussed either; he was more interested in getting a game of chess going. 

“C’mon, James, let’s have a match,” Peter suggested, already setting up the board on the floor.

James was about to join him—figuring he could listen and play at the same time—when Sirius shot him a glare that was somewhere between scandalised and deeply offended. 

“Oi, shut up and listen, will you?” Sirius snapped, sounding far too serious about a bit of music.

James shrugged, not seeing the big deal. “Sorry, mate, it’s just… doesn’t sound that different from other music to me.”

“You uncultured swine!” Sirius exclaimed, hurling a pillow at James with dramatic flair. James laughed, easily batting it away.

“The Beatles are gods among men. If Remus were here, he’d agree with me!”

Peter, still focused on the chessboard, piped up, “Where is Remus, anyway? It’s nearly curfew.”

They all paused, glancing at Remus’s empty bed, but none of them had an answer.

Try not to miss me too much while I’m away. I’m sure the house is dead boring without me around to stir things up. I miss you lot too, though I’ll see you at Christmas—(and I wouldn’t mind finding a new pair of Quidditch gloves under the tree, hint, hint). Jokes aside, I’m doing well, so don’t worry too much. Love you, and see you soon. 

Your son,

James

Curfew came and went, and still no sign of Remus. James kept glancing at the door, then at Remus’s bed, the worry gnawing at him more and more as the minutes ticked by. Where could he be? Surely, Remus didn’t dislike them enough to want to switch rooms, did he? What if something had happened to him? But if that was the case, he should be doing something, not just sitting here fretting over it. But would Remus even want their help if he was in trouble?

“Do you think we should ask someone?” Sirius asked, breaking the silence. He was sprawled on his bed, but the way he kept fidgeting with his sleeves showed that he was just as uneasy as James.

James sighed, running a hand through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “Maybe… I s’pose it couldn’t hurt to ask Frank. But I don’t want to get Remus into trouble if he’s just running late.”

Sirius frowned, looking over at the door. “Yeah. He does like to wander off, that one.”

Eventually, they decided to just go to bed, though none of them seemed too confident about it. James couldn’t shake the nagging worry that they might’ve made the wrong choice by not telling Frank. He didn’t want to get Remus in trouble, but surely he’d be in for it now, missing curfew like this. 

James tossed and turned, trying not to let his mind wander to darker places. Hogwarts is the safest place on Earth, he reminded himself, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. Remus is safe. He has to be…

James slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning, waking up every so often to peer over at Remus’s bed. Each time, it was still empty. It gnawed at him, the unease curling in his stomach like a restless serpent. When morning finally arrived and they got up to get dressed, there was still no sign of Remus. 

As James, Sirius, and Peter pulled on their clothes, they exchanged glances, wordlessly agreeing they’d need to ask Frank about it at breakfast. But just as they’d made up their minds, the door to their dormitory flew open with a bang.

Remus barged in, looking like he’d been through ten rounds with a rogue Bludger. His movements were stiff, almost like he was forcing himself to walk normally, and his skin had this awful sallow look to it, as if he hadn’t slept a wink. Dark circles hung under his eyes, so pronounced they made him look almost ghostly.

“Where were you?!” James blurted out, his brow furrowing with concern. His hands automatically went to his hair, trying to flatten the stubborn strands that always stuck up at the back—something he did when he was anxious, though he’d never admit it.

“Nowhere,” Remus muttered, pushing past them to rummage through his things. His tone was short, defensive.

“Are you okay?” Sirius asked, briefly tearing his eyes away from the mirror where he was meticulously smoothing down his own hair.

“Yeah,” James added, his gaze fixed on Remus. “You look a bit… off.”

Remus scowled, as if they’d just accused him of something terrible. “Piss off,” he muttered, practically spitting the words at them.

James winced inwardly. Nice one, Potter, he thought to himself, really making friends here, aren’t you?

“We’re just being nice,” Peter chimed in, hands on his hips like a scolding mum. The three of them were still staring at Remus, who had started pulling off his t-shirt but suddenly stopped, glaring at them.

“What?!” Remus snapped. “You all gonna watch me get dressed? You posh boys are all a bunch of poofs.” With that, he grabbed his clothes and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

James let out a long sigh, feeling a mixture of frustration and worry. It was becoming painfully clear that Remus didn’t want to be friends, but that didn’t stop James from wondering what on earth could’ve happened last night to leave him looking like death warmed up.

“I’m hungry,” Peter whinged, breaking the silence. “If we don’t hurry up, we’ll miss breakfast.”

Sirius exchanged a meaningful look with James, who just shrugged helplessly. What could they do? They couldn’t exactly drag Remus out and force him to be their mate. Reluctantly, the three of them headed downstairs, leaving Remus as he seemed to prefer it—alone.

Chapter Text

Friday 10th September 1971

By the end of the first week of lessons, James had already made his mark—he’d used up all the Dungbombs his dad had given him, started a broomstick duel (which McGonagall wasn’t too pleased about), and discovered that not all house-elves were as patient with his antics as Gully back home. He supposed it wasn’t a bad start, all things considered.

The lessons themselves were, well, a bit of a mixed bag. They were mostly introductory, and while Lily Evans spent each class furiously scribbling down pages and pages of notes like she was trying to rewrite Hogwarts: A History by hand, the rest of the class didn’t seem too fussed. James certainly wasn’t. Magic had always come naturally to him, and he figured he’d get by just fine without overdoing it on the homework.

Charms was a laugh—Professor Flitwick, a tiny bloke who could probably fit in James’s school trunk, had enchanted a pile of pine cones to whiz around the room, to everyone’s delight. After a few attempts at the spell, Lily managed to levitate her pine cone about three feet in the air. James was impressed—though he’d never admit it. Sirius, naturally, had to one-up everyone by getting his to spin like a top—until it shot off and smashed straight through a window. Meanwhile, James, Peter, and Remus had less luck, and James quietly vowed to beat Sirius next time. There was no way he was going to let his best mate have all the glory.

Transfiguration was another story entirely. James had been looking forward to it, but it turned out to be much more serious than he’d expected, thanks to Professor McGonagall. She was all business, no-nonsense, and there would be no practical work at all during the first week. She had them doing tons of homework instead, to “gauge their ability levels,” as she put it. James couldn’t help but feel a bit deflated—he’d been hoping to turn Peter into a toad, not write essays.

Then there was History of Magic, which was an absolute bore. Professor Binns droned on and on, reciting dates and battles in a monotone that could put even the most energetic student to sleep. He set them two chapters of reading as homework, which Sirius scoffed at, muttering to James, “Surely everyone’s already finished A History of Magic? It’s kid’s stuff.” James nodded along, though he hadn’t actually read it. His dad kept a copy in his office at home, but every time James had tried to pick it up, he’d ended up getting distracted by Quidditch magazines instead.

Potions, at least, promised to be more hands-on, but there was a catch—they had to share the class with the Slytherins. James had been doing his best to avoid the Slytherin lot; they walked around like they owned the place and didn’t seem to have a sense of humour between them. Professor Slughorn, however, was surprisingly cheerful, which lifted James’s spirits a bit.

Slughorn was reading through the register when he got to the B’s. “Black, Sirius—aha, there you are! Quite surprised at the Sorting, my boy, quite surprised! I’ve had every one of the Blacks in my house since I started teaching! Shan’t take it personally, young Sirius, but I shall be expecting great things!”

Sirius looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. James shot him a sympathetic look as Slughorn continued calling out names.

“A Potter and a Pettigrew, eh? Well, well, along with Mr. Black here, this class has quite the pedigree, eh?”

James frowned slightly. Slughorn seemed to be playing favourites, doling out compliments to a select few students. He hadn’t said anything about Lily, for instance, and that sort of favouritism left a bad taste in James’s mouth.

“Let me see… Lupin! I knew your father—not one of mine, but a damn good duelist. Nasty business…”

The whole class turned to look at Remus, who seemed to shrink under the attention. Most of them knew his dad had been a wizard, but that he’d been raised by Muggles in a children’s home—whatever that entailed. Remus had never seemed inclined to share much about his past.

Thankfully, Slughorn didn’t linger on the topic. He wanted to get them started on practical work as soon as possible. “Best thing is to just get stuck in!” he beamed. “Now, if we all work four to a cauldron, you can all take it in turns to follow the steps…”

There was a mad scramble as everyone tried to pair up. James, Sirius, and Peter quickly claimed the cauldron at the very back of the room. James glanced over at Remus, who was still standing by himself. He was just about to call him over when a new voice piped up.

“Mind if I join you, lads?”

James turned, half-expecting just another Slytherin, but was relieved to see it was Nathaniel Quince, a familiar face from back home. Grinning, he welcomed Nathaniel to their group, though he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that Remus hadn’t joined them.

When he looked back up, he saw that Remus had paired up with Lily, along with that greasy-haired kid from the train—Severus Snape, wasn’t it?—and some burly bloke named Mulciber. James didn’t recognise the name, but he was pretty sure his parents wouldn’t have approved.

Having established that Remus wasn’t alone, James turned back to his group. He opened his book so the others could see and quickly took the lead, directing Peter to start crushing thistles and telling Quince to measure out snail eye-stems. Sirius, of course, decided for himself to stir, while James read from the book and instructed him on how many times to stir and in which direction.

For practical work, it was a bit of a letdown. Unlike Charms, there weren’t any immediate results—just a lot of waiting for the potion to brew. Still, James was keen to see what they could come up with.

“Let’s try adding the powdered newt and see what happens,” Sirius suggested, elbowing James with a mischievous grin.

Peter frowned. “The ingredients don’t call for powdered newt, though.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be fun to see what happens?”

Peter’s frown deepened, and Sirius rolled his eyes. James glanced between the two of them, weighing his options. The idea was tempting, but he was more concerned with keeping the peace between his friends. “Maybe we should save the experimenting for after the first class, eh, Sirius? Wouldn’t want to blow up the classroom on the first day…”

Sirius didn’t get the chance to respond, because at that moment, chaos erupted. A few tables ahead, Remus had suddenly lunged at Snape, landing a punch right on his nose.

James’s eyes widened in shock. He’d never seen anything like it—Remus, usually so quiet and reserved, was now throwing punches like he knew exactly what he was doing. It was all action, no hesitation, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d been in a scrap.

Remus didn’t have the upper hand for long, though. Mulciber yanked him off Snape and landed a heavy punch to his face. James took a step forward, ready to jump in and break up the fight, but Slughorn’s bellowing voice stopped everyone in their tracks.

“Stop!” Everyone froze. The portly professor stormed over. “Get up, both of you!” he shouted at the boys on the floor. Snape and Remus slowly climbed to their feet, chests heaving. Snape looked the worse for wear, with his hair all mussed up and blood dripping from his nose. Remus, on the other hand, had a nasty bruise forming on his chin but seemed otherwise fine. James let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

“Explain yourselves!” Slughorn demanded. Both boys stared at the floor, silent. Mulciber stood grinning like an idiot, while Lily was on the verge of tears. James felt a familiar burn behind his own eyes and quickly blinked it away. He hated crying, hated showing vulnerability. How was he supposed to be the brave one if he was tearing up like a baby?

“Very well,” Slughorn said, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Detention for both of you—two weeks. Ten points from Gryffindor and ten from Slytherin.”

Wait, what?! James couldn’t believe it. “That’s not fair!” he protested, determination blazing in his eyes. “Should be twice as many from Slytherin—it was two against one!”

“From where I was standing, it was Mr. Lupin who started it,” Slughorn replied curtly, shaking his head. “Still, you are quite right—Mulciber, five points from you as well, for punching Mr. Lupin. Violence does not solve violence, you know, as I’ve told your eldest brother on a number of occasions. Miss Evans, please take Mr. Snape to the Hospital Wing. Lupin, you can clean up the mess you’ve made.”

The lesson was nearly over anyway—Slughorn had spent most of it taking roll—so he dismissed the rest of the class. As they filed out into the corridor, the hall buzzed with excited chatter.

Mulciber wasted no time puffing up his chest and bragging to the Slytherins that gathered around him, his voice oozing with self-satisfaction. “Well, he’s thick, isn’t he? Couldn’t even read the book. All Severus did was ask what they teach in Muggle schools—”

“Oi, and who taught you to be such a prat, Mulciber?” Sirius called out, not missing a beat. “Maybe you can ask them to teach you how to throw a decent punch next time. From where I was standing, it looked like your mate Severus was the only one bleeding.”

James and Peter burst out laughing, joined by a few other Gryffindors who had overheard. Mulciber and his lot shot them murderous looks, but with Slughorn still lingering in the doorway of the Potions classroom, they thought better of making a scene. James watched them slink away, his grin growing wider as they disappeared down the corridor. Typical Slytherins—quick to start something, quicker to scarper when it didn’t go their way.

They hung back, waiting for Remus to finish cleaning up the mess in the classroom. James tapped his foot impatiently, glancing back at the door every few seconds. He knew Remus didn’t like to draw attention to himself, and he hoped the poor bloke wasn’t taking too long on purpose just to avoid them. He couldn’t blame him, though—James himself hated getting in trouble, especially when it was in front of the whole class. But this was different. This wasn’t just some prank gone wrong; Remus had actually decked Severus, right there in front of everyone. And that, in James’s book, was worthy of a celebration.

When Remus finally walked out, he looked a bit surprised to see them all standing there, like he hadn’t expected anyone to wait. For a split second, his expression was wary, like he was bracing himself for a telling-off. But then James couldn’t help himself—he broke into a wide grin and punched Remus lightly on the arm.

“Bloody brilliant, mate!” he crowed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “The way you just went for him!”

Sirius chimed in, his tone full of admiration. “Mulciber was out here bragging afterwards, told everyone what Snape said. You were right to do it—what a prat.”

Remus groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “Told… everyone?”

“Don’t worry, they’re all on your side,” James reassured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Well, except the Slytherins.”

“Yeah,” Sirius added, his grin as wide as ever. “And who gives a toss about the Slytherins? They’re a bunch of wankers anyway. C’mon, it’s nearly dinner—fancy a bite?”

“Starving,” Remus replied, a small grin finally breaking through his worried expression.

Chapter Text

By Sunday evening, James found himself in a rather unfamiliar position—actually doing homework. It was their Transfiguration essay for McGonagall, a hefty fourteen inches of parchment. Of course, Sirius had turned it into a competition, which made it far more entertaining than it had any right to be. Even if Sirius did end up winning, Peter had tried desperately to keep up, scribbling furiously like his life depended on it. Meanwhile, Remus had sprawled out in one of the plush armchairs in the Gryffindor common room, observing them all with an air of detachment, as if the mere idea of homework was beneath him. 

James had to admit that once Sirius had bested him, his brain started wandering to far more important things.

“So,” he said, setting down his quill with a flourish, “how are we going to get them back?”

“Get who back?” Peter asked, not bothering to look up as he rifled through his notes. Honestly, sometimes it was like Peter needed a map to follow a conversation.

“The Slytherins,” James hissed, a bit exasperated. “Keep up, Pete.”

“Not all of the Slytherins?” Peter asked, his voice tinged with worry. “Only Snape and Mulciber, right?”

“All of them,” Sirius replied with a wicked grin, emerging from under the table where he’d been rummaging. He handed Peter a piece of parchment. “This what you were looking for?”

“Cheers!” Peter said, visibly relieved. “I’ve nearly finished…”

Sirius turned his attention to Remus, who hadn’t so much as glanced at the textbook lying open on the table in front of him. Remus had a funny relationship with schoolwork—James couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Not that James was particularly thrilled about the mountains of reading either, but at least his competitive streak kept him from ignoring it altogether.

“Have you done it, Lupin?” Sirius asked, almost too casually.

“Nah,” Remus shrugged, not looking the least bit concerned. “Can’t be bothered.”

Sirius frowned slightly. “Let us know if you need help.”

“You can copy mine if you want,” James offered, pushing his essay across the desk. But Remus pushed it back with a scowl, his jaw clenched tight.

“I’m fine. I’m not stupid.”

“No one said you were,” James replied evenly, though he could feel Sirius’s eyes on him. He knew that pushing Remus right now would only make things worse. The kid had walls up that even Sirius’s charm couldn’t breach, but James had a hunch that with a bit of time, Remus might just let them in.

Remus exhaled sharply, relaxing his fist.

“We could put itching powder in their beds,” he suggested, his tone light but his eyes gleaming with mischief. James’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Now, this was new—he hadn’t expected Remus to be the one to come up with something so deviously clever. “Or on their clothes… if we could figure out who does the laundry, anyway.”

James tilted his head, curious. Did Remus really not know about the house-elves? But he decided not to mention it, not wanting to make Remus feel awkward. Instead, he focused on the idea, twirling his quill between his fingers.

“I like it,” he said thoughtfully. “But does anyone actually have any itching powder?”

The other three shook their heads.

“Could order some from Zonko’s,” Sirius suggested. “If you let me borrow your owl, James. Mum confiscated mine after the Sorting.” 

James nodded. His owl could do with the extra exercise anyway, the lazy bird. But he couldn’t help feeling impatient. Waiting for an order to arrive didn’t exactly fit with the kind of immediate payback he was after.

“I s’pose,” he muttered. “Wish we could do it sooner, though. Strike while the iron’s hot and all that.”

“Don’t need to buy itching powder,” Remus interjected suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Do you reckon they have rose hips in the greenhouse?”

Peter finally looked up from his homework, nodding. “Yeah, they use them in Healing Potions—for arthritis, I think.”

Remus’s face lit up with excitement, and James couldn’t help but feel a thrill at seeing this side of him. “The hairs inside make you itch, really badly,” Remus explained, words tumbling out faster now. “Matron—the woman who runs the children’s home—she grows them, and if you get in trouble, she makes you seed them without gloves on.”

James shuddered at the thought. “That’s awful,” he said, imagining the torment.

“Brilliant idea, though!” Sirius beamed. “Next break, we’ll nick a load of them. Then we can seed them—with gloves on, mind—and sneak them into the Slytherin beds. Perfect!”

“How are we going to get into the Slytherin dorms?” Peter asked, having finally finished his work.

James glanced at his trunk, a slow grin spreading across his face as he remembered what his dad had let him bring to school. “Leave that to me,” he said, smirking with a glint of mischief.

* * *

They sent Peter to collect the rose hips, mostly because he was the only one who hadn’t managed to land himself in detention yet. Peter’s spotless record meant he was off the professors' radars for now—one of the few advantages of being the least noticeable of the group. It was perfect, really. James knew Peter was good at sneaking around, even if the others didn’t quite appreciate his talents. So, when Peter returned from the greenhouse after morning break with a jar full of rose hip seeds, James couldn’t help but give him a big, brotherly hug. 

“Nicely done, Pete!” James grinned, ruffling Peter’s hair, making it stick up even more.

Peter beamed under the praise, cheeks flushing pink, but he still looked rather proud of himself. James felt a rush of affection—Peter wasn’t the bravest or the most talented, but he was theirs, and he’d done his part brilliantly.

They all quickly locked themselves away in their shared bathroom to start seeding the buds. Remus, as always, took the lead with anything even vaguely related to dangerous plants. He was the only one who had bothered to pay attention in Herbology beyond the basic "don't touch this or you’ll lose a finger" instructions. Under his watchful eye, they pulled on their heavy dragon hide gloves, careful not to let the seeds or fine little hairs touch their skin. 

Sirius plopped himself down next to James on the cold tile floor, and they started working side by side, synchronised without even needing to talk about it. It always felt like that with Sirius, like they were tuned into the same wavelength.

“I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces,” Sirius said, his grin widening as he worked. His blue eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint, the one that always made James feel like they were on the brink of something brilliant.

James looked up and grinned back, feeling a rush of excitement in his chest. He couldn’t quite believe his luck in finding a friend like Sirius. They’d only known each other for three weeks, but it felt like they’d been mates forever. Both born into magic, both from wealthy families, both completely mental about Quidditch—it was like looking in a mirror. And it wasn’t just that—they were already building a reputation, the two of them. Sometimes James felt like a king with Sirius by his side. Everyone listened when they talked, laughed at their jokes. And the best part? No one even cared when they lost Gryffindor House points, which was happening more and more frequently.

Sirius chuckled, breaking James out of his thoughts. “Still don’t know how we’re going to get into the Slytherin dorms, though. Even Peter isn’t that sneaky.” He shot James a meaningful look, the kind that said he knew James was up to something and was desperate to find out what.

James just smirked, feeling a thrill at keeping his master plan a secret. He’d been dying to tell them, but the anticipation of their reactions was too good to spoil. “Let me worry about that,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Sirius rolled his eyes in that exaggerated way he had, like he was too cool to care but was actually bursting with curiosity. It took everything James had not to burst out laughing.

They finished up by storing the seeds and fine hairs in an extra jar, making sure they ate the leftover rose hips over the week. James was adamant that they left no evidence behind. He could already imagine the chaos they were going to cause, and he wasn’t going to let something silly like forgotten rose hips spoil their fun.

It was a Tuesday evening when they finally got their chance. James had decided that they’d have to pull it off before everyone headed to bed. He’d also come up with the brilliant idea of going to the Slytherin dorms separately, so they wouldn’t get spotted together and rumbled. Leading the charge, plotting everything out—it made him feel like the hero in some grand adventure story. The excitement was almost too much.

At dinner, Sirius was shovelling down his food like a madman. Meanwhile, Remus was still calmly helping himself to seconds, and Peter, though finished, looked positively green with nerves. Naturally, Sirius was the first to stand, sauntering out of the hall like he didn’t have a care in the world.

James waited a bit, then followed at a discreet distance, trying not to make it too obvious. They made their way to the girls' loo on the second floor. According to Remus, there was a secret passage there that led to the dungeons—pure genius, really.

As he neared the loo, he saw Sirius slip inside. James slowed down, deciding to hang back for a few moments to avoid raising any suspicion. He could hear a girl crying on the other side of the door—Remus had warned them about that. Apparently, no one used this lavatory because of the gloomy ghost that haunted it. After waiting what felt like a reasonable amount of time, James slipped inside as well.

When he opened the door, he found Sirius pacing in front of it like a caged animal.

“Well, someone’s eager,” James quipped, closing the door quietly behind him. Sirius flashed him a grin, all teeth.

“D’you reckon we’ll have to wait for Pete to hurl when he gets here? He was looking a bit peaky back there.”

“Nah, come on, Pete’s a good sport,” James said, though he felt a twinge of discomfort. He didn’t much like it when Sirius made digs at Peter—it always made things a bit tense. Peter hadn’t done anything to deserve it, really. Even if James agreed with some of the jabs, they were unnecessary. He just wanted his mates to get along.

By the time Remus and Peter arrived, Sirius was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Lead the way then, Lupin,” James gestured grandly, trying to lighten the mood. But Sirius grabbed his arm, stopping him with a serious look.

“Wait, show us what you’re planning first.”

James smirked, feeling a surge of pride. He’d been dying to reveal his secret since Sunday.

“Oh… okay then, here, hold this,” he said, thrusting the jar of rose hip seeds into Sirius’ hands and pulling back his robes.

He produced the cloak with a flourish. It was long, voluminous, and the finest thing he’d ever laid hands on—silvery grey and shimmering like something out of a dream.

“No,” Sirius breathed, eyes wide. “You haven’t, Potter, you bloody haven’t…”

James was grinning so widely he thought his face might split in two. He winked at them, then swept the cloak over his head, covering himself completely. He looked out through the thin fabric at his friends’ astonished faces.

“You jammy bastard!” Sirius whooped, unable to contain his excitement. “How come you never told me?!”

James felt a small stab of guilt—maybe he should’ve mentioned it sooner.

“You never told me, either!” Peter squeaked, looking slightly hurt. “And I’ve known you forever. Where did you get it?”

James glanced between his two friends, suddenly feeling like he was walking a tightrope. They both seemed a bit competitive, and the last thing he wanted was for either of them to feel like he was playing favourites. He’d never do that. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told Peter before. They hadn’t really needed it until now.

He pulled the hood of the cloak down so that his head appeared to float in mid-air, hoping it looked as cool as it felt.

“Been in the family for years,” he said triumphantly. “Dad let me bring it, as long as I don’t tell Mum.”

“Lucky git,” Sirius muttered, reaching out to rub the invisible fabric between his fingers. James felt a swell of pride—Sirius was hard to impress, and here he was, absolutely gobsmacked.

“I reckon we can all fit under it,” James said, pulling the cloak apart and raising his arms like a bat. “C’mon, let’s all get nice and cosy…”

It felt strangely comforting, shuffling underneath the cloak together. They waddled around the room a few times, testing how well they could move. Finally, trying not to giggle too much, the four invisible boys squeezed into the third stall from the left. Remus directed them, tapping the tiles to open up the floor and reveal the passageway.

“How’d you find this, Remus?” James whispered, genuinely impressed. “It’s genius.”

“You come out behind one of those rugs they hang on the walls, in the dungeons,” Remus explained. “I just looked behind it.”

“D’you mean a tapestry?” Peter asked, bless him.

James had noticed from the start that Remus came from a different background. The hand-me-down clothes, the well-worn books, the black eye—it was all a bit telling. He tried his best to explain things to Remus when he seemed out of the loop, but it was hard to keep track of what was foreign to him and what wasn’t. James didn’t know much about the Muggle world, after all.

Next to him, Remus stiffened at Peter’s question, muttering, “Um… s’pose so?”

“Shut up, Pettigrew,” Sirius snapped, shifting his weight.

“Oi,” Remus hissed, shifting as well. “Bugger off.”

“Sorry!” Sirius yelped, “Meant to get Pete, not you.”

“Be quiet, all of you,” James snapped, trying to keep order. “We’re almost there.”

They waited in tense silence on their side of the tapestry, listening for any footsteps in the corridor outside. Once James was satisfied it was clear, they all clambered out of the passage. The dungeons were as cold and dreary as ever. There was a strange dripping sound echoing somewhere—James felt a surge of relief that he didn’t have to live here.

“Where’s the entrance?” Sirius murmured.

“Behind that wall,” Remus pointed out, and James had to squint to see where he was aiming. It was just a plain brick wall.

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen them go in before,” Remus said, a bit too nonchalantly for James’s liking. Just how much time had Remus spent lurking down here? If it weren’t for pranks, James wouldn’t have set foot in the dungeons at all. No wonder the Slytherins always looked like they had a stick up their arses if these were their living conditions.

“D’you know the password?”

“Nope.”

“Damn.”

“It’s not curfew yet, let’s just wait.”

James nodded, even though he wasn’t sure the others could see him. Sirius seemed tense next to him, breathing heavily as if he was hot. Peter kept shifting his weight nervously, and James put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, two seventh-years came hurrying through. Sirius jerked his head up. James quickly realised it was the same two girls who had been harassing Sirius at the Sorting Ceremony.

“Let’s see the ring again, Bella!” Narcissa Black pleaded with her elder sister. James felt Sirius stiffen beside him, pressing himself back against the wall.

Bellatrix preened, extending her bony fingers to show off an enormous silver and emerald engagement ring—definitely not what James would have picked out for his future bride. Sirius had told him about Bellatrix’s engagement to Rodolphus Lestrange, and then he’d spent a good thirty minutes moaning about the upcoming wedding.

Narcissa squealed with delight, as if it were the first time she’d seen the ring.

“Gorgeous!” She gushed. “Oh, I can’t wait to get married…”

“Wait your turn,” Bellatrix replied in that grating voice of hers. “Once Lucius has a better position in the Ministry, I’m sure Mummy and Daddy will agree to the match.”

They were in front of the wall now. Bellatrix flipped her curly black hair over her shoulder—eerily similar to Sirius’s, James noted. It still boggled his mind that Sirius was related to these two. Excluding their physical features, Sirius was as different from them as night and day. Sure, they shared the same posh accent and came from the same ridiculous wealth, but in every way that mattered, Sirius was more like James. They might as well have been brothers.

“Mundus sanguine,” Bellatrix announced. The wall slid aside to let them in, and the four boys hurried after, slipping through just before it closed.

James squinted as he tried to adjust to the dim, murky light of the Slytherin common room. The whole place had an unsettling vibe, like it belonged at the bottom of the ocean, which, in a way, it did. The windows peered out into the depths of the Black Lake, and even though it was late, James doubted the sun ever touched this place. The mere thought of being sealed off from sunlight made his chest tighten. Maybe it was his love for flying, the open sky above him, that made him feel so claustrophobic down here. 

The only light came from a low fire crackling in the hearth, its flames reflected in the dark, polished onyx and jade decorating the fireplace. The candelabras on the walls flickered weakly, casting strange, eerie shadows over a massive portrait of Salazar Slytherin himself. There was a reading alcove where a few students were hunched over books, and James found himself wondering how they could even make out the words in this gloom.

The others seemed just as uneasy, rooted to the spot until James nudged them forward. They hesitantly made their way up a flight of stairs, hoping they were headed for the boys' dormitories. On their way, they passed Severus, who was hunched over in a corner, poring over his Potions textbook with his greasy hair hanging in his face.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they slipped into the first open door they found—a bedroom, thank Merlin.

James threw off the cloak and rushed into the room, eager to get started. “Keep a lookout, eh, Petey?”

Peter nodded, scurrying to the doorway, where he glanced nervously over his shoulder every few seconds. Poor bloke looked like he was about to jump out of his skin. Catching a frown on Sirius’s face, James gave him a playful nudge and grinned. “Reckon one of these is Snape’s bed?”

“This one might be,” Sirius said, pointing to a bed with sheets that looked like they hadn’t seen a wash in weeks. “Sheets look greasy enough.” The four boys snickered, their tension easing just a bit.

“Right, gloves on, lads,” James whispered, unscrewing the jar of rose hip seeds. Remus and Sirius each slipped on a dragon hide glove, grabbing handfuls of seeds and scattering them liberally under the bedclothes.

“They’ll see them!” James hissed, his voice tinged with disappointment. The bright red seeds stood out starkly against the white sheets, even in the dim light. There was no way the Slytherins wouldn’t notice them.

“Well, they’ll still get it on them trying to brush them out,” Sirius offered, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Hang on…” Remus trailed off, that familiar look of deep concentration on his face. James had learned that this expression meant Remus was thinking—hard. With a small frown, Remus pulled out his wand, bit his lip, and waved it gingerly over the bed he had just covered in seeds. “Obfuscate,” he whispered.

The seeds vanished completely. James blinked, then took off his glasses and wiped them with his robe, just to be sure he wasn’t seeing things. But no, the seeds were still gone when he put them back on.

“Blimey!” James stared in awe. “How’d you do that? Flitwick hasn’t taught us that charm yet, has he? Was it in the reading?”

“Nah,” Remus shrugged like it was nothing, “I saw some fifth-years doing it yesterday on some sweets they bought in the village. S’not hard to copy.”

James and Sirius immediately tried to mimic the charm on their own piles of seeds. It didn’t work the first time—or the second—but after the third attempt, James managed to vanish most of his.

“You’d better do it, Lupin, or we’ll be here all night,” he said, trying to sound cheerful despite his mild frustration.

“Yes, please hurry up!” Peter hissed from the doorway, his face as white as Nearly Headless Nick.

Sirius had another go, but when he couldn’t quite manage it, he let Remus take over. “You’re going to show me exactly how to do that as soon as we’re back on neutral territory,” Sirius said. Remus nodded, looking slightly puzzled—he didn’t seem to understand why they were struggling so much.

“Next room,” James announced, leading the way back to the corridor.

“Do we have to?” Peter whined, hopping from foot to foot like he needed the loo. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Not even close!” Sirius laughed, tossing his head. “What if we haven’t even got Snape’s bed yet? We have to get them all, Pete. Are you with us or not?”

“All the boys, anyway,” James added as they entered the next bedroom. “I don’t fancy our chances getting into the girls' dorms—remember what happened to Dirk Cresswell last week?”

They worked quickly, managing to get into every single boys' room—even the last one, where three sixth-years were already asleep. Even Sirius had balked at going in there, but Remus was practically buzzing with excitement. He threw on the Invisibility Cloak and slipped into the room himself, scattering the rose hips over the pillows of the slumbering boys.

By the time they finished, it was late, and more Slytherins were making their way upstairs for bed. They had to creep carefully down the stairs, pressing themselves against the walls as students passed. It was slow going, but they managed to sneak back through the common room unseen, slipping out into the corridor beyond.

As James had instructed, they kept as quiet as possible until they were within spitting distance of Gryffindor Tower. Finally, it was safe to remove the cloak.

“Widdershins!” they chanted together at the Fat Lady, who swung open to let them in.

The warm, bright Gryffindor common room felt like heaven after the cold, dark dungeons. They all collapsed onto the nearest sofa, grinning like mad. Frank Longbottom looked up from where he was organising his revision notes at a nearby table.

“Cutting it fine, lads,” he said, though his tone was more amused than accusing. “Been somewhere interesting?”

Peter looked like he might spill the beans right then and there, but James waved a hand dismissively. “Library, obviously.”

Frank shook his head, though he was smiling. “I’m sure I’ll hear about it soon enough.”

“I wish I could be there when it all kicks off!” Sirius whispered, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. “And I wish even more we could have got my cousins.”

“It’s just the beginning, Sirius mate,” James replied, slapping the blue-eyed boy’s knee. “Between the four of us, I reckon we could go even bigger next time. Excellent first mission, men!”

Peter, who had been quiet for most of the night, let out a small whimper. “First mission?!”

Chapter Text

Wednesday 15th September 1971

The next morning, James and Sirius were practically bouncing with excitement, hardly able to keep still as they dragged their groggy dormmates down to breakfast before any other Gryffindors had even thought about getting out of bed. They charged into the Great Hall, the first students to arrive, apart from a few bleary-eyed Ravenclaws already buried in their N.E.W.T. revision books, clutching over-sized mugs of black coffee like lifelines.

“Perfect,” Sirius declared, his grin almost splitting his face in two. “Front row seats!”

“Bet no one shows up for hours,” Peter grumbled, barely awake, his head propped up on his elbows.

“Oh, cheer up,” James said, pouring them all large mugs of tea. “Don’t you want to see the fruits of our labour?”

“Not at six in the morning,” Peter mumbled, taking a noisy slurp of his tea. Sirius winced at the sound and shoved a plate of toast towards him.

“Have some toast and stop whinging.”

Remus, ever the meticulous one, took a piece of toast and carefully cut it into four equal pieces. He spread marmalade on one, jam on another, butter on the third, and lemon curd on the last. Sirius raised an amused eyebrow at this, but Remus just carried on, seemingly oblivious. James caught the exchange and couldn’t help but smile at Remus, a small, fond smile that he didn’t quite manage to suppress. Remus’s odd little habits always seemed to amuse him.

Despite Peter’s grumpy prediction, it wasn’t long before other students began trickling into the hall for breakfast. Remus had just finished devouring his concoction of toast when a group of Slytherins arrived—three boys and two girls, third-years by the look of them. The four Gryffindors watched with bated breath as the Slytherins took their seats at their table, reaching for platters of food as if nothing was amiss.

For a few tense moments, it really did seem like nothing was different. Sirius sighed, disappointed, but then it started. The tallest boy in the group shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing his arm. Another kept fumbling in his pocket, but from where James was sitting, it looked more like he was scratching his leg furiously. The third boy had his wand out and was using it to scratch behind his ear.

“It worked!” James whispered, his voice trembling with barely contained glee. Even Peter, still half-asleep, was starting to wake up properly, a slow smile creeping onto his face.

As more Slytherins filtered into the Great Hall, it became glaringly obvious that something was very wrong on the other side of the room. By seven o’clock, the entire Slytherin table was full of squirming, scratching, and increasingly frantic students. The girls looked horrified, and the boys were desperately trying to maintain their dignity while clawing at their own skin. Amycus Carrow, a particularly burly sixth-year, finally snapped. He tore off his robes, his school jumper, and even his tie, scratching at his chest which was already an angry shade of red. For a fleeting moment, James almost felt bad for them.

But that sympathy evaporated the instant Severus Snape walked in. James thought he might actually die from trying to hold in his laughter. Poor Snape seemed to have had the worst reaction to the rose hip seeds. He skulked into the hall, head bowed, greasy hair hanging over his face like a curtain, but even that couldn’t hide the mess beneath. His nose was swollen and shiny, a bright, angry red.

“Oh, Merlin!” Sirius wheezed, clutching his stomach as he tried to catch his breath from laughing so hard. “Tell me we got his face!”

James, his mind already whirring, seized the opportunity to bestow a new nickname on Snape. “Oi, Snivellus!” he shouted, flashing Sirius a mischievous grin.

Snape spun around, his hair parting just enough to reveal the full extent of the damage. The left side of his face was covered in an angry rash, red and blotchy from his temple down to his neck, disappearing under his uniform. His left eye was bloodshot, the lid swollen and irritated.

“Looking good!” Sirius crowed, and the four Gryffindors dissolved into fits of laughter as Snape stormed out of the hall, his robes flaring behind him.

By the time breakfast was over, the entire castle was buzzing with rumours about what had happened to the Slytherin boys. James and Sirius looked like Christmas had come early, and even Peter had cheered up remarkably—constantly reminding them that his diligent lookout skills had made the whole operation possible.

“It was all Lupin’s idea, though,” Sirius pointed out, after Peter had mentioned his lookout duties for the fifth time that morning. “What shall we do to celebrate, eh? Exploding Snap? Raid the kitchens?”

Remus, looking slightly embarrassed by the praise, shook his head, smiling politely. “Well, whatever you do, you’re doing it without me,” he said. “I’ve got double detention.”

“From Slughorn?” James asked, frowning.

“Yeah, and McGonagall. And Flitwick, but that’s tomorrow. Then I’ve got Herbology detention over the weekend.”

“Bloody hell, mate,” James frowned deeper, “You going for a record or something?”

Remus just shrugged, looking away, but James wasn’t satisfied. He couldn’t quite figure Remus out, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn’t for lack of effort either. Since the first day they’d become dormmates, James had made it his personal mission to make sure none of them ever felt left out. With Sirius and Peter, it was easy; they stuck close no matter what. But Remus was different. He was guarded, like he was always holding something back. Every now and then, James would catch a glimpse of the real Remus, a crack in the wall. But just as quickly, those walls would be back up, reinforced even stronger than before. But James Potter wasn’t one to give up easily. One day, he was sure he’d break through those walls.

“Maybe you’d better start doing your homework?” Sirius suggested gently. Remus rolled his eyes, getting up from the table.

“C’mon,” he said, heading for the door. “It’s Defence Against the Dark Arts first. Thought you two loved that.”

*  *  *

Later that day, after Remus had trudged off to detention and Peter had scampered away to check out some chess club or other, James found himself heading to the Owlery with Sirius. He couldn’t help but feel a bit surprised by the whole situation. Sirius had asked to borrow James’s family owl, Hattie, which was odd enough considering that the Blacks had their own fleet of owls. But when Sirius casually mentioned that his mother had confiscated their family owl, James’s confusion only deepened. He hadn’t dared to ask why, not with the way Sirius reacted whenever his family was brought up. It was like saying the word "Black" made Sirius want to disappear into the floor, and James wasn’t keen on pushing him into one of his darker moods.

The night before, when they were all riding high on the success of their prank, Sirius had approached James with the request. It had been after the others had drifted off to sleep, and James had been lying in bed, still buzzing with the thrill of their mischief, when the curtains around his four-poster were gently pulled back.

“Sirius?”

“Hi.”

“What’s going on, mate?”

“Er… I sort of had something to ask you.”

James had blinked away his tiredness and, with a groggy smile, sat up, sweeping his arms out in an exaggerated gesture of welcome. “Please, good sir, come in.”

Sirius smiled in relief and clambered onto the bed, settling himself on his knees atop the blanket. The curtains fell shut behind him, creating a small, private space just for the two of them. It felt like a little fort, a sanctuary from the outside world.

“So…” James prompted, his eyes bright with curiosity, “What is it? Have you already got a plan for our next mission?”

He was grinning, half-expecting some wild new scheme, but Sirius only looked back at him with a nervous smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No, sorry. I just… I was going to ask if I could borrow your owl.”

James blinked, taken aback by the simple request. “Oh. Yeah, sure, mate.”

“Thanks,” Sirius said, and there was an awkward pause. James felt the familiar urge to break the silence, but Sirius beat him to it. "It’s just, I promised Reg—Regulus, my brother—that I’d write. And, well, obviously I haven’t been able to, y’know, and I figure I should check in, just make sure he’s okay…”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” James nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. Why hadn’t Sirius mentioned having a brother before? The idea of siblings was foreign to James, who had always been an only child. He’d seen other kids with brothers and sisters, and it seemed like a mix of love and rivalry, something he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. You either loved someone or hated them, right? “You can borrow my owl anytime. What’s mine is yours.”

Sirius nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay, yeah. Cheers, mate. Thanks.”

As Sirius clambered out of the bed, James yawned, already half-asleep again as he mumbled, “Anytime.”

Now, as they made their way to the Owlery, Sirius was unusually quiet, fidgeting with the letter in his hands. It made James uneasy, but he didn’t want to force Sirius to talk about whatever was bothering him, so instead, he kept up a steady stream of chatter about the new spell they were learning in Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

It wasn’t until Hattie (Sirius had burst out laughing the first time James told him the owl’s name) had flown off, letter in tow, and they were on their way back to the dormitory that James paused. He laid a hand gently on Sirius’s arm, stopping him in the corridor.

“Hey,” he said quietly, even though there was no one else around, “Are you alright?”

Sirius hadn’t stopped fidgeting, his fingers twisting together as they walked, and he hadn’t really been paying attention to anything James had said. Whatever was going on in his head had him so distracted that it was like he wasn’t even there. When Sirius finally looked up, he plastered on one of his trademark grins, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Who, me? Peachy, thanks for asking.”

Why are you lying to me?

But James didn’t push him, not yet. 

They walked the rest of the way to the Gryffindor common room in silence. When Peter returned from his club and challenged James to a game of chess, the opportunity to get Sirius to open up slipped away. Still, James couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something important Sirius wasn’t telling him.

He wanted Sirius to trust him, to open up the way he did with the others. If Remus had walls, then Sirius had a fire—a wild, untamed thing that burned bright for everyone to see, but could scorch anyone who got too close. But James wasn’t afraid of getting burned; he wanted to show Sirius that it was okay to let someone in, that he didn’t have to keep everything hidden behind that blazing exterior.

James had never had anyone he could talk to the way he talked to Sirius, not even his parents. His whole life, he’d been the golden boy, always putting his best foot forward, always smiling, always gentle, always trying to make others feel at ease. It was what made him feel important, like he was doing something good in the world. But with Sirius, sometimes he felt the opposite urge—he wanted to drop the act, to show him the parts of himself he kept buried deep down. But he was also terrified of what Sirius would think if he stopped shining like the sun.

Eventually, Sirius, unable to sit still, put on one of his records. When Peter complained about the noise, Sirius sighed dramatically and fetched a pair of headphones, plopping them over his head before sprawling back on the couch. James and Peter were still engrossed in their chess game when Remus finally returned from his detention, dropping down on the couch next to Sirius. James listened in on their conversation, even as his eyes remained fixed on the chessboard, more to keep Peter happy than out of any real interest. He knew there was no use trying to win; Peter had always been better at chess.

Sirius pulled his headphones off as soon as Remus sat down, “That was quick!”

“Only had to do one in the end,” Remus replied. “Slughorn let me off—too busy trying to sort out the itching powder fiasco.”

“That prank is the gift that keeps on giving.”

“Snape was allergic and everything,” Remus said. “That ginger girl said he’s been in the Hospital Wing all day.”

James flinched, his mind immediately flashing back to the girl on the train. Why was Remus talking about her? Were they friends?

“Which ginger girl?” He asked quickly, looking up from the chessboard.

“CHECKMATE!” Peter crowed triumphantly.

“You know, the annoying one. Evans.”

“I don’t think she’s annoying.” James frowned, puzzled. He hadn’t seen her do anything annoying at all. She’d told Snivellus off on the train for being a prat, she was in Gryffindor so she had to be decent, and she seemed pretty sharp in classes too. And… he supposed she was kind of pretty, especially with those big green eyes. So what if the others thought she was annoying? A pretty girl was still a pretty girl.

“Okay,” Remus shrugged.

“Let’s not talk about girls,” Sirius interrupted pointedly. “This might be the most important day of our lives! This is the day we became legends—the day our friendship was forged in the fire of itching powder!”

“They don’t know it was us, do they?” Peter asked nervously, as he began to tidy away the chess set. Remus shook his head.

“Slughorn reckons it was a Slytherin girl. Or a gang of marauders.”

“Marauders!” Sirius sat up suddenly, his eyes bright with excitement. “That’s it! Raise your glasses, boys!”

James shot him a bemused smile. “We don’t have glasses.”

“Well, just pretend.” Sirius shook his head irritably. “From this day forward, we are The Marauders!”

James considered the name for a moment. Maybe it was a bit obnoxious to name your friend group, but the way Sirius said it made it seem like the most natural thing in the world. The Marauders. When Sirius said it, it sounded elegant, playful, and just a little bit dangerous, like the name of a secret superhero squad. He stared at Sirius in awe before breaking into a wide grin. Peter glanced at him, unsure, looking for direction. Remus, however, burst out laughing.

“What sort of poncey gang name is that?!”

Chapter Text

Friday 17th September, 1971

James had always had friends, but ever since they declared themselves The Marauders, things had taken a turn for the absolutely brilliant. He was so chuffed he might as well have been flying without a broom. There was something about the way they all clicked together now, something that made him feel more alive, more himself, than he ever had before. He could hardly believe his luck—he had mates who made every day an adventure, and he wouldn’t have traded that for anything.

Remus had started hanging out with them more, too. He’d been a bit of an enigma at first, keeping to himself, but once he began to open up, James discovered that the quiet, brown-haired boy had a biting wit and a sarcastic sense of humour that James absolutely loved. Remus was the kind of bloke who could take the mickey out of you without you even realising it until you were laughing along with him. It was brilliant.

James, of course, saw everything through the lens of Quidditch. To him, their little group fit together like a well-oiled Quidditch team. He imagined himself as a Chaser, guiding the teamwork and making sure their aim was true. Sirius was definitely a Beater, fierce and unyielding, always ready to stand up to anyone who dared cross them. Peter, bless him, was the Keeper—steadfast, always watching their backs, the quiet guardian who made sure they were all safe. And Remus—Remus was the Seeker, the one who could slip away on his own, find the Snitch when it mattered most, the missing piece they didn’t know they needed until he was there. They were unstoppable.

But today, something was off. For some reason, Sirius was in a foul mood, and it wasn’t the first time James had noticed. Sirius probably thought he was being subtle, but James had picked up on it the moment Hattie had returned from her flight with no letter from Regulus. It was like a cloud had settled over Sirius, darkening everything in its path. He’d even snapped at Peter that morning, and though James could take Sirius’s mood swings in stride, it was rare for him to be snippy with his best mate.

Remus seemed to sense the tension as well. He kept his distance, hardly saying a word to Sirius during their classes, and eventually slipped off to serve another one of his detentions. James could tell he wasn’t in the mood to get caught up in whatever was brewing between Sirius and the rest of them.

Finally, after a particularly snide remark towards Peter during a game of Exploding Snap, James had had enough. 

“Oi, either play nice or tell us what’s bothering you, but you can’t keep sulking all weekend!” 

Sirius huffed, his temper flaring. “Fine,” he snapped, standing up so quickly that the cards on the table scattered everywhere. “I’ll piss off then!” 

And with that, he stormed off to their dormitory, leaving James and Peter sitting there in awkward silence. James watched him go, his first instinct to follow, but something held him back. Maybe Sirius just needed some time to cool off. 

By the time they were all getting ready for bed, Sirius still hadn’t emerged from behind the drawn curtains of his four-poster. James kept glancing over as he brushed his teeth, trying to gauge what might be going on in that head of his. For someone with such an explosive temper, Sirius could be maddeningly hard to read when he was brooding. 

Eventually, James decided to leave Sirius to his sulk and climbed into his own bed. He took off his glasses and settled down, willing himself to fall asleep. But just as he was drifting off, he heard footsteps on the hardwood floor and the soft rustle of his bed curtains being drawn back. He instantly recognised the sound of Sirius’s breathing.

“Sirius?” 

He sat up, blinking sleepily and fumbling for his glasses. “Alright, mate?”

“Yeah, sorry, er… d’you mind if I…”

“Yeah, yeah, come in!”

Sirius let the curtain fall shut behind him, and for a moment, the two boys just stared at each other. There was something different in Sirius’s eyes, something raw and vulnerable that James wasn’t used to seeing. Finally, Sirius broke eye contact, glancing down and fiddling nervously with a crease in the blanket.

“I just, um… Just wanted to say sorry, I s’pose. For being a prick.”

James offered him a small smile, hoping to put him at ease. “Thanks, mate, I know you didn’t mean it.” When Sirius looked back up, James’s smile widened encouragingly. He wished Sirius would just tell him what was really going on. Let me help you, mate.

“It’s just… Reg was supposed to write back.” The words tumbled out, almost rushed, and James frowned in confusion.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. He was meant to write, and—I mean, I promised him I’d write, and I thought—I’ve never been away from home, y’know, and it’s just—”

“You miss him?” James offered gently.

“Yeah,” Sirius breathed out, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yeah, I do. And… I’m worried. About him.”

James stayed silent, letting Sirius take his time. He could see how much this was bothering his friend, and he didn’t want to push him. Sirius took another breath, his expression clouded with something close to fear.

“I think my parents were really upset that I didn’t get into Slytherin. And even though it’s not Reggie’s fault, they can be… intense. Things aren’t always—good with my family. D’you know what I mean?”

James’s brow furrowed as he watched Sirius intently, trying to piece together what he wasn’t saying. 

“Er… I’m not sure. Are you worried they’re mad at him, too?”

“Sort of,” Sirius shrugged, though it was more of a defeated gesture than anything else. “More like… Reg might have to pay for my mistake."

James was still a bit lost, but he reached out to clasp Sirius’s arm, hoping to offer some comfort.

“Hey,” he said, catching Sirius’s eye, “You didn’t make a mistake. I think it’s brilliant that you’re in Gryffindor. And if your brother’s anything like you, then I’m sure he’ll be alright.”

Sirius gave him a small, grateful smile, and for a moment, the tension seemed to lift. James could see how much his brother meant to him, and if Sirius couldn’t have Regulus here at Hogwarts, then James would do his best to be the next best thing.

* * * 

Tuesday 5th October 1971

Despite his best efforts to comfort Sirius, James couldn’t help but notice the way his friend’s head would always shoot up whenever the post arrived in the morning. And every time he saw that subtle, yet unmistakable look of disappointment on Sirius’s face when there was no letter from Regulus, James’s heart sank a little.

Their late-night chats became more regular. Sirius didn’t always know how to explain what he was feeling, and James didn’t always know what to say in return, but he tried his best to be a good listener. It seemed to help, at least a bit. Sirius was smiling more, and they kept busy by planning pranks or frantically finishing their homework at the last minute.

But there were still moments when Sirius seemed to dip down into his mood, usually when he was thinking about his family. He’d get this faraway look in his eyes, his usual grin disappearing from his face. In a way, James envied him—envied that Sirius had someone to worry about back home. It felt odd to think badly of his own parents, but he sometimes wondered why they’d robbed him of that experience.

Luckily, Hogwarts provided no end of distractions. The professors were engaging, the magic was fascinating, and Sirius was always at his side with a quick wit and a quicker smile. Peter, of course, was always with them too, eager for a game of chess or Exploding Snap. Remus, however, still seemed to live in his own world at times.

James found himself distracted in classes, though not because of Sirius. His thoughts often wandered to a certain redhead. They weren’t friends, not yet anyway, but he often found himself drawn to her presence. He noticed things about her he didn’t usually pay attention to with others—the way her nose scrunched when she laughed, the way her lips pouted when she was deep in thought, the way her eyes lit up when her friends joined her.

He told himself it was because he’d never been around girls much before. He was a boy, and in all the fairy tales, the prince always saved the princess. He was just excited to finally have the chance to interact with the fairer sex. That had to be it.

But he was free from the strange pull of Lily Evans when he was alone with his friends in the dormitory. Except this Monday night in October, they were only three. Remus had disappeared, never returning to their room to sleep. James and Sirius stayed up late, whispering, and coming up with all sorts of wild theories about where Remus might have gone. But the other boy never returned.

They didn’t see him again until the next morning when he appeared in their Transfiguration class. He looked tired, dark circles shadowing his eyes, but otherwise, he seemed normal.

James, Sirius, and Peter spent half the lesson trying to get Remus’s attention, but he steadfastly ignored them until McGonagall threatened to separate them all.

In the corridors on the way to Charms, they finally managed to ambush Remus. Sirius was the first to speak, blurting out, “So, where were you?!” He sidled up on Remus’s left.

“Nowhere,” Remus replied, his voice tight.

“Oh, go on,” James pleaded, coming up on Remus’s right. “Tell us! Was it the same place you went last month?”

“Maybe.”

“Were you in detention again?” Peter asked, struggling to keep up. James and Sirius had already discussed that possibility last night but concluded that not even Filch would keep students away all night for detention.

“Nope.”

“Then where—”

“Watch it, half-blood!”

All of them had been too caught up in the conversation to notice where they were going, and Remus had run smack into Snape, who was coming around the corner. Remus squared his shoulders and tried to push past him, roughly.

“Watch yourself, Snivellus.”

Snape didn’t budge and instead pushed him back. Mulciber appeared at his left shoulder, looming menacingly over the smaller boys.

“I know it was you that broke into our dorm the other night,” Snape hissed. “All of you.”

“Yeah? Prove it.” James smirked, folding his arms.

Snape sneered, his face twisting with rage. “I can’t yet. But I will. I’ll get you back too, I promise.”

“We’re quaking in our boots,” Sirius drawled, leaning against the wall as if he were utterly bored. “Now, would you kindly move it?”

“Your idea, was it, Black?” Snape drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. “Or yours, Potter? Had to have been one of you. Pettigrew doesn’t have the guts, and dear Lupin here clearly hasn’t got the brains…”

Remus clenched his fists, a dangerous look flashing in his eyes. James noticed Snape’s hand twitch towards his wand—a clear sign he was ready for a duel. Snivellus probably knew all sorts of curses and hexes; James wasn’t naive enough to think otherwise. But then, he had a fair few tricks up his own sleeve and wasn’t about to let Snape get the upper hand. If it came to it, he’d be ready to hex the greasy git into next week.

But before either of them could make a move, a sharp voice cut through the tension, echoing off the stone walls of the corridor. “Move along now, gentlemen.”

It was Professor Flitwick, stepping out of his classroom with a stern look that seemed almost comical on his tiny frame. “Severus, you’re clogging up the halls, and you four are supposed to be in my class. Come along.”

James could have kissed him. Snape’s face twisted in frustration, but there was no arguing with a professor. With a final sneer at Remus, Snape turned on his heel, flanked by Mulciber, and stalked off down the corridor. James felt a surge of satisfaction as they disappeared from view. He might’ve hated Snape, but he wasn’t stupid enough to cause trouble under Flitwick’s watchful eye.

Still, the whole encounter left James agitated for the rest of Charms. A dark frown settled on his face, an unusual sight for someone who prided himself on being the life of the party. Normally, it took a lot to get under his skin, but Snape had managed it since day one. Ever since they first met on the train, there had been something about the greasy-haired Slytherin that made James’s blood boil. It wasn’t just that Snivellus was unpleasant to look at—though he certainly was. It was more the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to ooze malice, especially towards people like Lily.

And that was what really got to James. How could someone like her, bright and brilliant and good, even waste a glance on someone like Snape? It was maddening.

They’d been working on Levitation Charms for weeks now, and James was pretty sure he could do it in his sleep. Peter, however, was still struggling. James had tried to help him, but it was like trying to teach a Flobberworm to dance. No matter what they did, Peter’s cushion always ended up on the floor. It was Sirius who had the most fun with the lesson, making his cushion zoom around the room like a Quaffle, but it was Remus who had the real knack for it. His Levitation Charm was perfect, of course, but today, his mood seemed to be affecting his magic. Instead of guiding the cushion gently through the hoops Flitwick had set up, Remus was practically launching it across the room.

“I expect you all to be able to levitate this book by the end of the week,” Flitwick announced as the lesson ended. He held up an enormous tome that looked like it weighed more than he did. “So come prepared for a quick test on your abilities.”

Peter groaned as they packed up their things. “I’ll never get it right,” he muttered, looking mournfully at the cushion on his desk. 

James clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, Pete. We’ll figure it out. Maybe we can practice after dinner, yeah?”

Peter nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. James couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him. It wasn’t easy being the one always lagging behind, especially when you were surrounded by people like Sirius and Remus who made magic look effortless.

But by the time lunch rolled around, James’s mood had improved considerably. He was never one to hold on to anger for long. It wasn’t in his nature. Besides, he had more important things to focus on—like planning their next prank and trying to catch Lily Evans’s eye across the Great Hall. Not even the prospect of Herbology and History of Magic, his two least favourite subjects, could dampen his spirits for long.

Remus, however, was a different story. He remained sullen and withdrawn for the rest of the day, barely saying a word to anyone. James noticed the way he kept his head down, his brow furrowed in thought, but whenever he tried to ask what was wrong, Remus just brushed him off with a shrug or a monosyllabic response. It was frustrating, to say the least. James wasn’t used to being shut out, especially by one of his best mates.

When they finally made it back to the dormitory that evening, Remus practically bolted for his bed, drawing the curtains shut before anyone could speak to him. James exchanged a look with Sirius, who raised an eyebrow in silent question—What d’you reckon’s going on with him?

James just shrugged, palms open in a helpless gesture—Your guess is as good as mine.

He flopped down on his own bed, staring up at the canopy with a sigh. Whatever was bothering Remus, it was clearly something big. But getting him to talk about it was another matter entirely. James wasn’t sure how to help, and that feeling of helplessness gnawed at him. All he could do was be there when Remus was ready to talk. Until then, he’d have to wait. 

And James Potter was not a fan of waiting.

* * *

Thursday 7th October 1971

In the days that followed, Remus remained his usual enigmatic self. James noticed the way Sirius had started observing Remus more intently, as if trying to solve the mystery of their quiet friend just by staring at him. It was almost comical, the way Sirius’s eyes would narrow in concentration, like he was trying to decode some particularly tricky riddle. James decided not to comment on it, though. He knew Sirius meant well, and he figured that if staring was the worst of it, then it wasn’t worth making a fuss.

James himself took a different approach. He kept a respectful distance, letting Remus come to him if he needed to talk. James knew he could be a bit much at times—loud, brash, always ready with a joke or a prank—but he also knew when to rein it in. He wanted his mates to feel comfortable around him, to know that they could come to him with anything. And even though patience wasn’t exactly his strong suit, he was willing to make the effort for them. After all, he was always paying attention, more than most people probably realised.

James was very aware of the people around him. Sure, he loved being the centre of attention—he thrived on it, really. There was nothing better than having all eyes on him, making everyone laugh, or impressing them with a bit of Quidditch flair. But part of that came from a deep need to understand and comfort those around him. If he could do that, if he could make people feel good, then they’d like him. And James Potter liked being liked.

That Thursday found the Marauders gathered in the Gryffindor common room, attempting to tackle their homework. Well, James was finishing Remus’s homework, having already completed his own. He’d offered to do it in exchange for Remus teaching him the ‘Obfuscate’ spell, and to his delight, Remus had agreed. James was hoping that helping with the homework might also help ease some of the tension that had been clinging to Remus lately, making his shoulders a little less stiff.

Sirius was engrossed in his essay, having already written three inches more than required on the uses of lacewing flies in transformative draughts—complete with diagrams, of course. The table they’d claimed was a chaotic mess of books, inkwells, and scrunched-up rolls of parchment. Peter, meanwhile, was trying to levitate an apple into a waste paper basket four feet away. So far, he’d managed to get it up in the air, but it wobbled and then dropped back down to the table with a dull thud.

James noticed Sirius’s lips purse in that way they did when he was starting to get irritated. It was a subtle sign, but James had become pretty good at reading Sirius’s moods. Peter, frazzled as ever, ran his fingers through his hair and consulted his text again, muttering to himself.

James had a lifetime of experience being patient with Peter. He knew when to push and when to offer encouragement. Without looking up from Remus’s paper, he said, “You’ll get it, Pete, don’t worry. Just keep at it.”

“I’m trying,” Peter whined, his frustration evident. “I’m sure it’s the movement I’m getting wrong… The book says to use a ‘smooth, serpentine action,’ but I’m not sure…” He swirled his wand in the air in a rather wobbly attempt at serpentine.

Remus, who had been quietly working on his own essay, finally broke his silence with a tut. “It’s not like that,” he said bluntly. “It’s more like an S shape on its side. Look.” With a casual flick of his wand, he demonstrated the correct movement, sending the apple sailing neatly into the bin without so much as a wobble.

“An 'S' shape, are you sure?” Peter frowned in concentration. He aimed his wand at a crumpled ball of parchment on the table. “Wingardium Leviosa!” he chanted, mimicking Remus’s wand movement. The paper ball wobbled a bit but then flew upwards and into the bin, landing with a soft thud next to the apple. Peter’s eyes widened in surprise. “I did it!” he gasped. “An ‘S’ shape—why didn’t it just say that in the book?!”

James paused his work to look up and smile at Peter. “Well done, Pete,” he said, genuinely pleased. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You should be a teacher, Remus.”

Remus snorted, looking away as a faint blush crept up his cheeks. James continued, undeterred by his friend’s modesty.

“I’m nearly done with this,” he said, returning to Remus’s homework. “Just need to check something—can you pass me Magical Theory? The Waffling book?”

He kept his head down, waiting for the book, but it seemed to take an unusually long time for Remus to hand it over. Curious, James glanced up over the rim of his glasses just as Remus came into view, the book in hand.

“Cheers,” James said, absently taking the book and returning to his work. But before he could get too engrossed, he noticed something—was Remus blushing? 

James raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to tease his friend. Instead, he decided to keep it to himself, filing it away for later. After all, there was no need to embarrass Remus further. Besides, he had a feeling he’d figure out what was going on soon enough. James Potter was nothing if not persistent, and he wasn’t about to let this little mystery slip by unnoticed.

Chapter Text

Friday 15th October 1971

The next few days were pure bliss for James. The boys spent nearly every waking moment together, which suited him just fine. There was nothing he loved more than having all four of them in the same room, laughing, scheming, just being. Of course, that didn’t stop Sirius from grumbling to James about Remus avoiding him. James, trying his best to look nonchalant, would just shrug.

“Yeah, but he’s always running off, that one—are you sure it’s something to do with you?” 

It wasn’t entirely true, though. James had definitely noticed how Remus would make a point of chatting with him or Peter whenever Sirius looked like he was gearing up to bombard him with questions. It was like watching a game of chess, where Sirius made all the bold, aggressive moves, trying to force Remus into a corner, while James preferred a more laid-back strategy, letting Remus come to him on his own terms. 

Even if things were a bit off between Sirius and Remus, the Marauders made it through Friday’s Charms lesson without a hitch—even Peter managed. Professor Flitwick was over the moon when the entire class mastered levitation so early in the year that he let them out early for lunch, his squeaky voice ringing with praise.

The following week brought James’s favourite lesson—flying. The moment they got out onto the pitch, James was already in his element, darting about and showing off with loops and sharp turns while the others were still hovering cautiously close to the ground. Madam Hooch’s warm-up exercises felt like child’s play to him; he’d been doing this sort of thing since he was seven.

Sirius was brilliant as well, naturally, and most of the other kids in class had grown up playing on broomsticks. Even Peter could hold his own. But the Muggle-borns were a different story—especially Remus. They’d figured out within twenty minutes of their first lesson that Remus was scared of heights, so it was no surprise that he looked a bit green around the gills as they changed into their scarlet flying kits and laced up their thick boots. The pitch was a swampy mess from last night’s rain, mud squelching underfoot as they picked up their brooms and waited for instructions. 

James shot a longing glance at the school’s battered brooms, wishing he could’ve brought his beloved Nimbus 1001. He missed her terribly and never passed up an opportunity to tell anyone who would listen how superior she was to the sorry lot they had to use now. 

“Right, mount your brooms, please, ladies and gentlemen,” Madam Hooch bellowed, her voice cutting through the wind. “Nice strong breeze today, so I want you all to take good care. Potter, no showing off!” 

This last comment only made James grin wider. He lived for this. They all clambered onto their brooms, and James couldn’t help but notice Remus’s knuckles turning white as he gripped his broomstick like it was his only lifeline.

“I’d like five laps around the pitch, then a good landing back here from each of you. Mind the puddle and remember to lean into the wind where possible. Use it to your advantage. Five points to whoever’s back first.” And with barely any warning, Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

James and Sirius shot off, zooming ahead of the rest of the class. The rush of wind in his hair, the adrenaline pumping through his veins—it was like nothing else. James was grinning so wide his face hurt. 

“You’ll never beat me, Black!” he called dramatically, the thrill of the race making him feel invincible. 

“Oi, Potter, no showing off!” Sirius shouted back, laughing. Below them, Madam Hooch was booming through her megaphone, urging Remus to fly higher. James glanced back and saw Remus falling far behind, clinging to his broom and looking like he might be sick at any moment. Poor bloke, James thought, but as long as he stayed on the broom, no harm done.

James pulled ahead with ease, his sharp turns leaving Sirius in the dust. By the first lap, it was clear he was going to win. He was much better at manoeuvring than Sirius, who was more about speed than precision. By the second lap, the rest of the class was just finishing their first. Feeling cocky, James steered his broom toward the towers of the empty spectator stands, ignoring Madam Hooch’s admonishments. How was he supposed to improve if he didn’t push himself?

He completed the four laps in no time, even with his little detours around the towers, and looked down to see Sirius slowing down, gliding next to Remus instead. James raised an eyebrow, a bit disappointed, but he shrugged it off. There’d be plenty of time for races later. For now, he was content to circle the towers some more, waiting for his friends to catch up.

He could hear Sirius and Remus bickering as they brought up the rear, their voices growing louder as they neared the ground—far too fast. The next thing James knew, the two of them were tumbling towards earth, brooms flying out from under them as they crash-landed into a massive muddy puddle, skidding and rolling forwards, completely drenching their robes.

“Black! Lupin!” Madam Hooch marched over, hands on her hips, her stern expression barely hiding the amusement in her eyes.

The other Gryffindors gathered around, giggling and pointing. James descended closer, barely able to stay on his broom from laughing so hard. Sirius leapt to his feet with all the grace of his pure-blood upbringing and pulled Remus up by the hand, both of them blinking water droplets out of their eyes like bedraggled kittens.

“What did I say about minding the puddle?” Madam Hooch raised an eyebrow, but the stern look quickly gave way to a smirk. “A point each from Gryffindor. You’d better go and wash off in the showers. Off you go.”

The two of them trudged towards the Quidditch changing rooms, holding out their heavy, waterlogged robes. James took off his glasses to wipe away the tears of laughter streaming down his face. Just as Madam Hooch was about to look up, James darted away towards the towers again, whooping as he circled them. He wasn’t ready to come down just yet.

“You think you’re something special, don’t you?”

Suddenly, there was a flash of red in front of him, and James had to brake sharply to avoid colliding. He pushed his fringe out of his eyes and found himself staring into a pair of bright green ones.

“Evans?” he blinked, taken aback. “What are you doing up here?”

“Telling you to stop acting like a lunatic. Madam Hooch wants you down on the ground.”

James, still off guard but amused, grinned and replied, “Well, Evans, I’ve been known to turn a few heads in my time.”

He twisted his broom, hanging upside down in front of her with a cheeky grin. Lily rolled her eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

James opened his mouth to retort, but his glasses chose that moment to slide down his nose. He shot out a hand to catch them, but to his surprise, Lily was quicker. Her hand was already there, and for a brief moment, their fingers touched, both clasped around the glasses. James felt his stomach drop, as if he were falling—but he wasn’t afraid of heights.

Lily’s expression morphed into one of mild irritation as she tugged the glasses out of his hand. “Did no one ever teach you about gravity, Potter?”

James flipped himself back upright, his heart pounding a little too fast. Lily was clutching his glasses, her red hair escaping its plait and blowing in the wind like fiery sparks. He shook his head, trying to snap out of the daze. She handed him the glasses, and he quickly put them on, plastering a confident smirk back on his face.

“Wizards don’t need such intricacies like... gra-vit-y.” He said the word slowly, as if it were something foreign and ridiculous. “Alright, Evans, I’ll come down with you. On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“Join me for a spin?”

She let out an exasperated huff. “Stop acting like a child. Madam Hooch is waiting.”

“Black’s gone, and I need a new racing partner.” James pouted, his eyes wide with mock pleading. “However will I improve my flying skills now?”

Lily gave him a sceptical look. “For real, Evans! I saw you before, you’ve got some serious speed! You lack my formal technique, of course—”

“Oh, you’re such a show-off!”

She reached out to shove him, but James was too quick, dodging her hand and circling around her with a grin that could only be described as shit-eating.

“Prove me wrong, then! Unless you’re too scared to lose?”

Without another word, Lily swerved around and chased after him, and James’s laughter echoed across the pitch as he zoomed out of her reach.

The competition quickly became engaging, more than James had anticipated. Lily was fast—faster than he’d expected—but as he’d predicted, she lacked his formal technique. She beat him in two out of three races between the goalposts, which made her scowl and scrunch up her nose every time he pulled ahead with some fancy aerial trick. Every time she did that, James felt a little flip in his stomach, like he was on a rollercoaster.

As they neared the homestretch, James was absolutely certain he had the race in the bag. He could feel the victory in his bones, every twist of his broomstick felt like second nature. But just as they began to descend, he slowed down on purpose, matching Lily’s speed, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. This was all too easy.

“It seems, Miss Evans,” he said, in the most pompous voice he could muster, “that I’ve bested you in the fine art of flying. How about you teach me about that gravity thing before I claim my victory?”

Lily turned her head, a suspiciously sweet smile on her lips. “You want to learn about gravity?”

James, clueless to the mischief brewing in her mind, nodded eagerly. “Yeah!”

She let out a soft chuckle, the kind that should’ve set off alarm bells in James’s head. But before he could react, she yanked his broom out from under him with a swift, calculated move. One moment he was hovering triumphantly beside her, and the next he was plummeting face-first into the very same muddy puddle that had claimed Sirius and Remus earlier.

He hit the ground with a loud, wet splat, mud splashing up around him like a wave. He spat out a mouthful of dirty water, the taste of earth clinging to his tongue, and pushed himself up on his elbows, yanking off his filthy glasses to get a clearer view of the world—or rather, the blurry mess that was his world without them. He could just make out Lily’s silhouette as she landed gracefully in front of him, not a hair out of place, the rest of the students laughing uproariously behind her.

Even without his glasses, James could see the triumphant smirk on her face, the one that made his stomach do that weird flipping thing again.

“Let’s call that lesson number one on gravity, Potter,” she said, her tone dripping with satisfaction.

James sat there in the mud, his face smeared with dirt and water dripping from his hair, but underneath it all, he was grinning like an idiot. Lily Evans had just bested him, and Merlin, did he like it.

Chapter Text

Saturday 23rd October 1971

The sun had just begun its descent, casting long, lazy shadows across the stone corridors of Hogwarts. The castle seemed to glow in the golden light of the late afternoon, but James wasn’t paying much attention to the scenery. He was in high spirits, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he made his way toward the Quidditch pitch. Today was Gryffindor’s Quidditch practice, and he wouldn’t miss it for anything.

He raced through the corridors, his trainers slapping against the stone, his dark hair tousled by the wind. He felt the thrill of anticipation buzzing in his chest—next year, he’d be on that pitch for real, not just watching from the stands. He’d found the Gryffindor Quidditch team’s practice schedule last week, and since then, he’d made it a point to attend every single one. He’d sit there, eyes glued to the players, absorbing every move, every strategy. It was almost like he was training alongside them.

As he turned a sharp corner, daydreams of Quidditch glory swirling in his mind, he collided—hard—with something solid. Or rather, someone solid. 

Books went flying, and James skidded to a stop, heart pounding. He looked up and groaned inwardly. Of all the people to crash into, it had to be Professor McGonagall. She was standing there, her expression halfway between a scowl and a smirk, the stack of books she’d been levitating now scattered across the floor.

“Mr. Potter,” she said, arching an eyebrow as she surveyed the mess, “I expect better from a Gryffindor. Running through the corridors like a headless chicken… really.”

James, trying to salvage some of his usual swagger, rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Oh, Professor McGonagall, fancy seeing you here!” he said, attempting a grin. “Just got a bit carried away with excitement.”

She gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying his charm for a second. “Excitement is no excuse for recklessness, Mr. Potter. Do try to remember that in future.”

Feeling a tad guilty, James quickly pulled out his wand. “Wingardium Leviosa!” he muttered, and the books floated back up into a neat stack, hovering beside the professor. McGonagall’s stern expression softened just a fraction, a hint of fondness in her eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” she said, her tone still firm but not unkind. “But do try to remember the rules, even when your enthusiasm gets the better of you.”

James nodded earnestly, watching as she continued on her way. As soon as she was out of sight, the grin returned to his face. Still buzzing with energy, he hurried out to the Quidditch pitch, half expecting to see Sirius already in the stands.

“Black!” he called out, jogging up the steps. But as he reached the top, his grin faltered. The stands were nearly empty, save for one familiar figure.

“Peter?” James plopped down beside his friend, who was sitting with a thick notebook in his lap. 

Peter looked up, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw James. “Hiya, James! You’re just in time—I’ve been studying the line-up. Got all their strengths and weaknesses noted down,” he said, his voice filled with excitement.

James chuckled, nudging him playfully. “Good on you, Pete. I’ve been watching them all week—figured it’d be better with me on the team though, right?”

Peter nodded eagerly, flipping through his notes. “Of course! I’ve got it all figured out… who’s likely to still be on the team next year, how the tournament might turn out—everything!”

James leaned back, letting Peter rattle off his predictions, but his mind wandered to where Sirius might be. Usually, the two of them would be watching practice together, James doing his best impersonation of a Quidditch commentator while Sirius made snarky remarks. It wasn’t the same without him.

“Hey, you haven’t seen Sirius and Remus, have you?” James asked, trying to sound casual.

Peter hesitated, his eyes darting toward the castle. “They’re busy,” he said quickly, a bit too quickly.

James frowned, confused. “Really?”

Peter’s expression shifted into a mischievous grin, the kind that usually meant trouble. “Want to grab a snack from the kitchen? I was down there earlier, and heard the house-elves were making sausage rolls.”

James’s face lit up. “Count me in!”

The Hogwarts kitchen was warm and inviting, the air thick with the scent of freshly baked bread. The house-elves, too busy preparing dinner, seemed to ignore the two first-years who had snuck in for a quick bite. Peter sat down at the long wooden table, happily munching on a sausage roll, while James, already on his second, was in the middle of recounting his latest escapade.

“So there we were,” James said, his voice full of dramatic flair, “just about to sneak the painting out of the Restricted Section when—”

Peter cleared his throat, interrupting him, “You know, James, it’s been a while since it’s just been the two of us.”

James paused mid-sentence, slightly taken aback. He hadn’t thought much about it, but Peter was right. With all the time he’d been spending with Sirius and Remus, he hadn’t had much time for just him and Peter. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just… you know, it’s been great getting to know them. But we’ll definitely make time, I promise.”

Peter smiled, but there was something a bit wistful about it. “Sure, James. We’ll find time.”

But before the conversation could go any further, James jumped up, dragging Peter along with him. “Come on, let’s get to the Great Hall. Bet Sirius and Remus are there by now.”

A few moments after they'd claimed their usual spots at the Gryffindor table, Sirius and Remus arrived. Sirius, looking a bit winded, downed a goblet of pumpkin juice in one go before speaking.

“How was practice?” he asked, his voice sounding just a touch strained.

“Cracking,” James replied, grinning from ear to ear as he stabbed a sausage with his fork and scooped up a generous helping of mashed potatoes. “How come you didn’t come?”

“Homework,” Sirius muttered, pouring gravy over his mash with a slight frown, avoiding James’s gaze.

James didn’t dwell on it—Sirius was always behind on something, anyway. Instead, he launched into an animated recap of the Quidditch practice, listing off every player's name, their positions, techniques, and even their birthdays, much to the amusement—or perhaps quiet resignation—of his mates. Peter nodded along eagerly, occasionally piping up with agreement, his eyes wide as though James was narrating the most thrilling story he’d ever heard.

When pudding arrived—Millionaire's shortbread, which neither James nor Sirius could stomach—Remus and Peter seemed to lose their minds over it. They practically inhaled their portions, and when Peter realised James and Sirius weren't touching theirs, he didn’t hesitate to polish those off too. Remus shot Peter a half-hearted glare, but Peter, ever resourceful, pulled out a bulging brown bag from his robes.

“I’ve got some sweets,” Peter said, offering the bag around. “Mum sent them. Help yourselves.”

“Cheers, Pete!” James said, happily taking a handful. The boys wasted no time, tearing into the unexpectedly large stash of candies. They didn’t stop until they’d eaten half the bag and were all feeling a bit queasy, faces tinged with a slight greenish hue.

As James scratched at his chin, which had started to itch something fierce, he asked, “What homework were you doing, Sirius? I thought we’d finished everything for the week.”

Sirius, who was scratching at his collarbone like he was trying to burrow through his own skin, responded with a vague, “Yeah, um, I was behind on History. Had to go back and check something.”

James frowned. Sirius wasn’t exactly the studious type, but they’d done all their homework together just two days ago. What was he on about? Before James could question him further, Remus suddenly bolted up from his seat, looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

“What’s up, Lupin?” James asked, startled by Remus’s abrupt movement.

Remus didn’t answer straight away, his eyes fixed in horror on his own hands. They were covered in hair. Not just a bit, either—thick, dark hair sprouting from where he’d been scratching.

James’s hand flew to his own chin, which, to his absolute shock, was now as hairy as a man’s beard. And he was eleven. “Oh, bloody hell…” James muttered, staring down at his now-furry hands, then back at the other two.

“Peter,” Sirius growled, his voice deeper now as his face began sprouting hair too. “Are you sure your mum sent those sweets?”

Peter, the only one of them who hadn’t touched the sweets, turned as red as a Howler, sputtering, “Well, I mean… I thought they were from her… they arrived this morning…”

“Pete!” James roared, and the entire Great Hall turned to stare. The whispers started first, but soon the laughter followed, and it wasn’t long before everyone in the room was craning their necks for a better look at the three furry first-years. The loudest laughter, predictably, was coming from the Slytherin table, where Severus Snape was practically howling with glee.

Sirius, still managing to look dignified even with a face full of fur, stood up and announced, “Come on, let’s get to the Hospital Wing. We can plot our revenge later.”

James followed, but not before catching Severus’s smug look as they walked past. James clenched his fists. He could see the humour in the prank—really, he could—but the idea that Snivellus Snape, of all people, had got one over on him was infuriating. Snape wasn’t supposed to be smart enough for this. Pranking was the Marauders’ thing.

As they left the hall to the howls of laughter from their fellow students, James noticed Lily sitting down the Gryffindor table. She was with some other girls, laughing, but with a hint of concern in her eyes. James felt his ears turn hot under the fur. He never got embarrassed—he was too confident for that—but suddenly, he did care. He usually loved attention, even when people were laughing at his expense, but why did it matter that Lily Evans was laughing at him?

As they walked out, Sirius muttered, “Told you they’d strike back.”

Chapter Text

Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey managed to undo the hex with just a few flicks of her wand, though she still gave them all a proper telling-off about the misuse of dangerous magic.

“As if we wanted to look like Bigfoot!” James scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. Peter, looking thoroughly chastened, mumbled, “Yeah…” while Remus just stared straight ahead, looking more shaken than James had ever seen him.

“It had to be Severus. He must’ve coated the sweets in one of his foul potions,” Sirius seethed, his eyes flashing with anger.

“Yeah, we all know it, mate,” James nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t worry, we’ll get him back.”

Peter, who had been apologising profusely for what felt like the hundredth time, wailed, “I’m so sorry! I really thought they were from my mum!”

“It’s fine, Peter,” James said, a touch more benevolently now as he patted Peter on the shoulder. “Just wish you’d given them to us first thing on a Monday—then we could’ve at least bunked off Transfiguration.”

“I demand retribution!” Sirius suddenly declared, raising his wand dramatically like he was on stage. James burst out laughing, and even Remus managed a chuckle, though he still looked a bit pale.

“And you shall have it!” James matched Sirius’s melodramatic tone, grinning widely. “But patience, my dear Black. Vengeance like this takes time. Don’t suppose you’ve got any other brilliant ideas, Remus?”

“Sorry,” Remus shook his head, still glancing nervously at his hands as if expecting more hair to sprout. He had perked up a bit, but his skin was still ghostly, and James could tell the whole incident had rattled him more than he was letting on.

“I’ll help, James,” Peter piped up, looking desperate to make amends. “I’ll do anything! I won’t be scared this time, I swear…”

They had just started to round the corner towards Gryffindor Tower when a voice called out behind them,

“Sirius.”

All four boys turned at once. Sirius made a small, almost inaudible noise of surprise. Standing there, with an air of icy superiority, was Bellatrix Black.

James had never liked her. Some people might’ve considered her quite pretty, with her sharp features and long dark hair, but there was always something off about her. It was the wild, frantic look in her cold grey eyes, the kind that made you uneasy because you could never predict what she might do next. She looked down her nose at the other three boys as if they were mere specks of dust on the floor.

“What d’you want?” Sirius asked, his voice unusually small as he looked down, scuffing his shoes on the flagstones. James couldn’t help but think how out of character that was—Sirius was usually all swagger and bravado. Sensing Sirius’s nerves, James quickly stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with his friend.

“Come here and address me properly,” Bellatrix snapped, her voice cold as ice.

Sirius didn’t move. Bellatrix’s hand moved to her wand, and James flinched, his own hand instinctively hovering over his. If she wanted to get to Sirius, she’d have to go through him first.

“Come here,” her voice dropped, low and dangerous now, “or I’ll make you. And it won’t be a childish little hair-growth charm, I promise.”

Sirius shot a quick glance at James, shaking his head slightly, signalling for him to stay put as he reluctantly stepped forward. They all watched as the cousins spoke in low, hurried tones at the end of the hallway. Sirius barely looked up from the ground, his usual defiance nowhere to be seen. Finally, Bellatrix gave him a condescending pat on the head and spun on her heel, stalking off down the corridor. The boys exhaled in unison, relieved.

Sirius walked back to them, looking shaky. They didn’t say a word as they made their way back to the common room, the tension thick in the air. Once they’d collapsed onto their usual sofa, James felt like he might burst if he didn’t say something.

“Alright, Sirius?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

“Yeah,” Sirius nodded, though he looked paler than usual. “She, um… She wanted to invite me for tea. On my birthday. Reckon my mother put her up to it, probably a family conference about bringing me back into the fold.”

“Just because you’re in a different House?” James asked, incredulous.

Sirius smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “And because of the company I’m keeping.”

James snorted. “When’s your birthday, then?”

“Two weeks. The third. I’ve got to go to this tea, though—Bella wasn’t joking about knowing some really vile curses.”

“We’ll do something afterwards, then,” James said firmly, already plotting. “Something good, yeah?”

Peter and Remus both nodded enthusiastically, and James felt a surge of determination. He was going to make sure Sirius had the best birthday ever, no matter what it took.

* * * 

Wednesday 3rd November 1971

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Sirius had barely managed to open his eyes before James was launching himself into his bed, tackling him like a Quidditch Chaser going for the Quaffle. The two of them rolled around in the blankets, wrestling and laughing, the sound echoing through the dormitory.

When Sirius finally managed to shove James off, he clambered out of bed, still grinning. Across the room, Peter stood nervously, holding a small package wrapped in paper that looked like it had been folded and refolded a dozen times.

“Happy birthday, Sirius!” Peter said, his voice full of sincerity.

“Cheers, Pete!” Sirius grinned, running a hand through his already messy hair. He glanced over towards Remus’s bed, expecting to see his friend’s usual sleepy smile, but the bed was empty, the curtains drawn back, and the sheets untouched.

“He, er… never came back last night,” James said quietly, noticing the direction of Sirius’s gaze. A tense silence fell over them as they all stared at the empty bed. It wasn’t the first time Remus had vanished like this, but it didn’t make it any easier. Where did he keep going? James wondered, the concern gnawing at him.

Sirius shrugged it off, forcing a cheerful tone as he said, “Probably off plotting the downfall of the Slytherins—evil genius, that one.” James and Peter chuckled, though it sounded a bit hollow, and they all silently agreed not to dwell on it.

Determined to make the day special, James had arranged a flying session for the three of them, bribing Madam Hooch with promises of good behaviour (which he fully intended to keep… probably). After dinner, just before Sirius had to go and change for tea with his insufferable cousins, James and Peter led the entire Gryffindor table in a raucous round of “Happy Birthday,” followed by “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” They sang “And so say all of us!” over and over, each time louder than the last, until Professor McGonagall threatened them with detention if they didn’t shut it.

Later, Remus reappeared, claiming he’d been ill and Madam Pomfrey had kept him in the Hospital Wing all day. James didn’t quite buy it. Remus looked tired, sure, but not more so than usual after one of his disappearances. It was odd, though. If it were James, he’d crawl out of his death bed to wish Sirius a happy birthday. But none of the boys questioned it, and by the next morning, they were too caught up in classes, essays, and pranks to give it much thought.

As November trudged on, the days grew shorter and the castle darker, forcing them to spend more time inside. Huddled by the fire in the common room, they passed the evenings playing card games and plotting their next move against Snape. The first term was drawing to a close, and the teachers, sadistic as they were, seemed to delight in piling on more homework than ever. Sirius had taken up a strange habit of reading aloud when they worked on assignments together, which James found equal parts annoying and amusing.

“It helps me think, Potter!” Sirius would pout, puffing out his lip whenever James shot him a scowl. “I’ve got to catch up to you somehow!”

James decided to let it slide, even if it was distracting. Sirius had been falling behind in his classes lately, and James wanted to give him the best chance to catch up. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what had caused the sudden change. Whenever they weren’t together, Sirius would disappear into the library, either with Remus or on his own. James couldn’t fathom why he’d spend so much time there if he wasn’t studying.

One evening, after wrapping up a particularly dull study session in the library, James was on his way back to the common room when he heard a commotion in the corridor. Curiosity piqued, he turned the corner to find a group of Slytherin students surrounding someone. As he got closer, he realised it was Lily at the centre of the group, her face flushed with embarrassment and anger as they hurled insults at her, the word “Mudblood” ringing in the air.

The sight of Lily, her eyes bright with unshed tears, felt like a punch to the gut. Without thinking, James stepped forward, his voice firm and unyielding. “That’s enough. Leave her alone!”

The Slytherins, startled by his sudden appearance, backed off, though not without casting a few nasty glances at Lily as they retreated. James turned to her, concern etched on his face. “Evans, are you okay?”

Instead of the gratitude he expected, Lily’s scowl deepened, her green eyes blazing. “Why did you have to interfere, Potter? I could’ve handled it.”

James blinked, taken aback. “I couldn’t just stand by and let them treat you like that. It’s not right.”

Lily crossed her arms, her frustration palpable. “You don’t get it, do you? They were mocking me for being a Muggle-born, for not belonging here.”

The weight of her words hit him like a Bludger. He’d been so focused on playing the hero, he hadn’t considered how deeply it hurt her. “But that’s not fair, Evans. You belong here as much as anyone else. You’re one of the brightest students at Hogwarts. Just ignore them—they’re not worth it.”

Lily’s temper flared, and she lashed out. “It matters, Potter. Some people can’t see past it. You don’t understand because you’ve never had to deal with it.”

His stomach twisted, not in the usual way it did around Lily, but in a worse, more hollow way. He lowered his gaze, feeling helpless. “I just wanted to help, Evans. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

Lily’s eyes shimmered with tears, her voice thick with frustration. “You don’t get it, Potter. You just don’t get it at all.”

As she stormed off, her footsteps echoing her anger, James was left standing there, feeling like a complete idiot. He’d tried to be the hero, but he’d only made things worse.

He trudged back to the common room, the hollow feeling in his stomach refusing to go away. What had he done wrong? Wasn’t this how it was supposed to work? Stand up for the girl, protect her, and be the knight in shining armour? What was the point if all it got him was scolding and tears?

Lily’s crying face flashed in front of his eyes, and he wiped at his own, frustrated. Why did he always have to care so much? It never seemed to get him anywhere.

When he finally pushed through the portrait hole, he was greeted by the familiar chatter of the other Marauders. They were sitting in front of the fire, a Gobstones board between them, lazily continuing a game they’d started days ago while trying to teach Remus the rules. James stopped and leaned against the wall, watching them.

“You’ve seen them, though!” Sirius was saying, awed. “You’ve seen them performing.”

“Not in real life,” Remus replied, shifting uncomfortably.

“No, I know, on the telephone,” Sirius nodded sagely.

Remus stifled a laugh. “On the television, mate. It’s more like those moving paintings you lot have. Only black and white. And only the Beatles—the Stones came on once, but Matron made us turn it off because of their hair.”

“What about their hair?”

“Too long,” Remus shrugged. “She said they looked dirty.”

“My hair’s much longer,” Sirius said, frowning.

“Yeah, it is. But Muggle boys don’t have long hair, not normally.”

“Don’t tell him that!” Peter teased. “He’ll shave his head.” He tossed a Gobstone across the board, knocking one of Sirius’s stones out of the ring. The stone promptly squirted a foul-smelling liquid, which Sirius narrowly avoided. Peter grinned. “Ha, take that, Muggle lover!”

A fond smile spread over James’s face. What did it matter if he didn’t understand how to behave around girls? What did it matter if Lily bloody Evans was annoyed with him? She could be as snarky as she liked. He had everything he needed right here in front of him.

Sirius swore loudly and started to storm off towards the stairs, but he stopped when he noticed James, his blue eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oi, mate! Didn’t see you there. When’d you get back?”

James laughed, throwing an arm around Sirius’s shoulders. He glanced down at Sirius’s tainted robe, grinning. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow but let James lead him towards the stairs.

“By the way,” James ruffled the other boy’s long black hair affectionately, “I like your hair long.”

Chapter Text

“Lupin, perhaps you can tell me—what are the transfigurative properties of lapis philosophorum?” McGonagall's voice cut through the quiet of the classroom near the end of their lesson. She fixed Remus with a sharp look, clearly expecting a solid answer. James, sitting beside Remus, nudged him lightly with his elbow, just in case his friend needed a reminder to glance at his notes. But Remus didn’t need any help.

“Er…” Remus hesitated for a second, then answered, “It’s the one that turns things into gold, I think. If you use it right, anyway. And Cleopatra the Alchemist used it to turn lead into silver, if I remember correctly.”

McGonagall’s expression softened, though her surprise was barely concealed. “Correct. Five points to Gryffindor. And another five for making the connection to Cleopatra the Alchemist. She’s not mentioned in Transfiguration for Beginners—did you read that in your history text?”

Remus nodded, looking slightly embarrassed at the attention. James stared at his friend, half-impressed and half-bewildered.

“Well, excellent,” McGonagall continued, addressing the class now. “Some of my third-year students are incapable of cross-referencing their studies like that. I’m pleased to see you taking such an interest.” She paused, scanning the room. “And we will begin discussing alchemy after Christmas. Which reminds me—with the holidays approaching, I’d like to ask any students planning to remain at Hogwarts over the break to let me know by the end of next week. Thank you, you’re dismissed.”

As the class began to pack up, James clapped Remus on the back. “Nicely done, Lupin,” he said, with genuine admiration in his voice. Remus mumbled something in reply, looking more uncomfortable with praise than anything.

“Mr. Lupin, if you have a moment?” McGonagall called, just as Remus was about to follow James out the door. James slowed his pace, curious, but McGonagall waited until the classroom had emptied before continuing, leaving James no choice but to loiter outside.

He leaned against the wall, twirling his wand absentmindedly between his fingers. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius and Peter disappearing down the hall, deep in discussion about the latest Quidditch match. James could have joined them, but he didn’t want to leave Remus behind. It was just how James was—always the one to wait, to make sure everyone else was alright before moving on himself.

As he waited, his attention was drawn to a familiar scene at the foot of the stairs. Severus Snape, his greasy black hair hanging limp around his face, was sitting close to Lily, their heads nearly touching as they talked. James couldn’t help but roll his eyes. What could Lily possibly find interesting in a bloke like Snape? The guy was always skulking around, looking like he hadn’t bathed in days, and here he was, practically breathing down her neck.

“... the infusion of moonstone powder at precisely the right moment creates an unparalleled transformative effect,” Severus was saying, his voice dripping with intensity. “It’s a subtle yet fascinating process, don’t you think, Lily?”

Lily nodded, offering him a friendly smile. “It does sound interesting, Sev. You really know your stuff when it comes to potions.”

James made a face, mimicking gagging behind their backs. What was Snivellus playing at, acting as if he was some sort of potions prodigy? And why was Lily entertaining it? He watched them with narrowed eyes, feeling an unfamiliar pang in his chest. It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself. Definitely not. It was more... concern. For Lily. She was too good to be wasting her time with the likes of Snape.

James’s attention sharpened as another student approached the pair, clearly with a question. Snape’s expression darkened, and he snapped at the poor kid, his voice cold and cutting. “Can’t you see we’re having a conversation? Wait your turn.”

James’s grip on his wand tightened. Slimy little git. How did Lily not see through him? 

Lily, to her credit, looked unimpressed. “Severus, there’s no need to be so harsh. He just had a question.”

Snape immediately backtracked, his tone softening. “You’re right, Lily. I just... I get carried away sometimes.”

James nearly scoffed aloud. What an act. As if Snape was capable of genuine kindness. But then, something happened that made James’s stomach lurch. Snape reached into his book, pulling out a small, pressed flower, and handed it to Lily. Her eyes lit up with surprise and delight as she took it.

“Sev, it’s beautiful. Thank you,” she said, her voice warm.

James felt a strange twist in his gut as he watched Lily smile at Snape. What was that about? It wasn’t like he wanted her to look at him like that—well, maybe he did. But it was more than that. He didn’t trust Snape, didn’t think he deserved that kind of smile from someone like Lily. 

The feeling stuck with him, gnawing at him even after Remus finally emerged from the classroom, looking slightly pale but otherwise fine. Together, they headed back to the common room, but James’s thoughts were elsewhere, still tangled up in the sight of that blasted flower and the way Lily had smiled when she took it.

As November gave way to December, Hogwarts was transformed into a winter wonderland. The castle was decorated with garlands, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and the promise of snow. James loved Christmas, always had. It wasn’t just the presents—though those were pretty fantastic, especially when his parents made sure he got everything on his wishlist. No, it was more than that. It was the warmth, the laughter, the feeling of belonging. Christmas at the Potters’ was always a grand affair, with family and friends gathered around, his mum bustling about making sure everyone had what they needed, and his dad’s booming laughter filling every room.

James had been babbling about his Christmas plans for days, unable to contain his excitement. He’d been regaling his friends with stories of past holidays, from the year his dad had charmed their sledges to go faster than ever, to his mum’s famous mince pies that James couldn’t get enough of.

“Last year, Dad apparated us to this massive hill just outside London—side-along Apparition is dead weird, by the way—and he charmed the sledges so we wouldn’t fall off. It was unbelievable how fast we went—”

Sirius snapped his book shut with a loud bang, cutting James off mid-sentence. They were in the common room, the fire crackling warmly in the hearth. Remus and Peter were playing Gobstones on the floor, and James had been flipping through a Quidditch magazine, not really reading it but using it as a prop while he prattled on.

“Do you mind?” Sirius snapped, glaring at James. “I’m trying to read.”

James fell silent, taken aback. Remus and Peter looked up, the tension in the room palpable.

“Er... sorry, mate,” James mumbled, feeling awkward. He could see the irritation in Sirius’s face, the way his shoulders were hunched and his jaw was clenched. It took him a moment to realise why. Of course. Christmas wasn’t exactly a time of joy in the Black household. He’d been so caught up in his own excitement, he hadn’t stopped to think how all this festive talk might be affecting Sirius.

“It’s fine,” Sirius muttered, though it was clear it wasn’t. “Too loud to concentrate down here anyway.” He grabbed his book and headed upstairs to their dorm. James watched him go, worry gnawing at him. Sirius usually didn’t snap at him like that. He knew his friend had been through hell with his family, especially around Christmas, but he hadn’t realised how much it was still affecting him.

Later that night, when Sirius crept into his bed, James didn’t hesitate to let him in. They’d been doing this the whole term—comforting each other when the nightmares or bad memories became too much. Sirius settled under the covers, and before James could say anything, he blurted out, “Look, I’m sorry about earlier—”

“No, I should be the one apologising,” Sirius interrupted, his voice strained. “It’s not your fault my family’s awful. You have every right to be excited—I’ll try to be less of a miserable git.”

James smiled, relief washing over him. “You’re not a miserable git, Black. Well, not usually, anyway,” he teased lightly, ruffling Sirius’s hair. “And for the record, I like your miserable git self just fine.”

Sirius laughed, a genuine sound that made James feel like everything was alright again. They fell into a comfortable silence, and James thought, not for the first time, that he didn’t know what he’d do without Sirius.

* * *

James had always known that Christmas wasn’t a particularly jolly time for either Sirius or Remus. So, in the spirit of making things a bit brighter, he invited them both to spend the break with him at the Potter house. He could already picture it—late nights in front of the fire, mountains of food, and the three of them plotting their next great adventure. But his enthusiasm was quickly dampened.

Remus had to turn him down, which James had half-expected. “I’d love to, James, honestly,” Remus said, looking genuinely sorry, “But I’m still technically under the care of my Muggle boys’ home. I’d need written permission to leave Hogwarts, and well, you know how it is.”

James nodded, trying not to let his disappointment show. It wasn’t fair, really. Remus was brilliant, and he deserved to be free to go where he pleased, just like any other kid.

Sirius, though, that was the one James had been banking on. But even he had to refuse, and the reason made James’s blood boil.

“Bellatrix, that bloody bitch, has been feeding my parents information,” Sirius explained, his voice low and dark. “Apparently, I’ve disgraced them enough already. If I go to yours, it’ll only get worse. Sorry, mate.”

James could tell that Sirius was trying to play it off, but there was real pain behind those words. Sirius didn’t deserve to be stuck with that lot—his so-called family. “No worries, Black,” James said, clapping him on the back, trying to inject some lightness into his voice. “We’ll just have to make up for it over the summer.”

On the last day of term, Remus came down to the edge of the grounds with the Marauders to see them off. The train’s whistle was already echoing through the chilly air, and steam billowed around them, making everything seem a bit more dramatic than it needed to be.

“We’ll send you owls!” James called out, grinning as he leaned out of the train window. “See if you can come up with our next plan of attack on Snivellus, yeah?”

Remus smiled, but it was a small, somewhat forced smile, and James felt a sudden pang of guilt. It must be awful, having nowhere to go for Christmas, no family waiting eagerly to greet you. James gave him a thumbs up as the train started to pull away, but the look in Remus’s eyes stayed with him, making James feel a bit crestfallen.

Sirius was unusually quiet for most of the journey. He sat by the window, staring out at the passing countryside, his expression closed off. James didn’t push him. He knew better than anyone that when Sirius got like this, it was best to let him be. Instead, he kept up a steady stream of chatter with Peter, carefully avoiding any mention of Christmas. There was a fine line to tread between being considerate and making it obvious he was being considerate, and James tried his best to walk it.

As they got closer and closer to London, James could feel the excitement bubbling up inside him. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he’d been missing his parents more than he’d let on. The thought of seeing them again, of being home, filled him with a warmth that even the cold December wind couldn’t touch. By the time the train pulled into the station, he was practically bouncing in his seat.

His parents were waiting on the platform, and James’s heart swelled at the sight of them. His dad was as tall and imposing as ever, with that booming laugh that could fill a room, and his mum, with her wild curls and warm smile, was the picture of comfort.

James turned to Sirius before they got off the train, giving his best mate a hard hug and a firm squeeze on the shoulder. They didn’t need words—James hoped his eyes conveyed everything he wanted to say.

I’m here whenever you need me, Sirius. Always.

Sirius nodded, a silent promise of his own, before he disappeared into the crowd. James watched him go, a knot of worry tightening in his chest, but he was pulled out of it when his mother’s familiar scent of orange and clove enveloped him as she pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Oh, James,” she murmured, her voice brimming with love as she kissed him all over his face. She pulled back slightly, her hands still resting on his shoulders as she inspected him. “You’re far too thin! Haven’t you been eating properly? And your glasses, James!”

James grinned sheepishly as his mum took off his glasses. They’d cracked during a particularly rough wrestling match with Sirius the week before, and he hadn’t bothered to fix them yet. Before he could reply, his dad’s hearty laugh rang out, and the next thing James knew, he was lifted off the ground and wrapped in his father’s strong arms.

“Of course, he’s been eating, Effie!” Fleamont declared, setting James on his shoulders like he was still a little kid. “You remember the feasts at Hogwarts! His glasses are an easy fix; he’s just been getting rough with the other lads, I reckon.”

“Yeah, it was Sirius!” James exclaimed, eager to defend himself. “We were wrestling! But not in a violent way,” he quickly added, shooting his mum a look that was meant to be reassuring.

Effie shook her head, muttering the repairing charm under her breath as she fixed his glasses. She placed them back on his nose, patting his cheek with a fond smile. “You foolish boy.”

James laughed, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. His mum’s fussing, his dad’s laughter—this was what Christmas was all about. 

“Let’s go home now!” Fleamont announced, and without another word, he took off down the platform, James still perched on his shoulders, both of them laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world.

* * *

The Potter family home exuded warmth the moment James, Euphemia, and Fleamont stepped through the front door. It was the kind of warmth that seeped into your bones and made you feel instantly at ease, the scent of evergreen and something sweet—like cinnamon—hanging in the air. A log fire crackled invitingly in the hearth, casting a soft, golden glow across the living room, where magical lights twinkled like stars.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Euphemia pulled James into a tight hug, her eyes shining with pure maternal affection. “Oh, my boy,” she murmured, holding him as if she never wanted to let go. “It’s so wonderful to have you home for Christmas break.”

James grinned into her shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of home. There was nothing quite like being back with his parents, no matter how much fun he had at Hogwarts.

Fleamont clapped him on the back, a proud smile spreading across his face. “We missed you, James. How’s Hogwarts treating you?”

James pulled back from his mum and gave his dad a wide, toothy grin. “It’s been incredible, Dad! You wouldn’t believe the stuff we’ve learned. Magic is just... brilliant!”

Euphemia laughed, the sound as warm as the room they were standing in. “I’m sure it is, dear. Now, let’s get you settled in. Dinner will be ready soon.”

James’s stomach gave a hopeful growl at the mention of dinner, and he followed his parents to the cosy kitchen, where the aroma of a home-cooked meal greeted them like an old friend. His mum had outdone herself—there was a feast laid out, with all of James’s favourite dishes. Roast beef, buttery potatoes, Yorkshire puddings that looked like they were about to topple over, and a gravy boat the size of a small cauldron.

As they gathered around the table, the Potters slipped back into the easy rhythm of family life. Laughter filled the room, and James found himself regaling his parents with tales from Hogwarts—stories about magical creatures, flying lessons, and, of course, the pranks. There were always pranks.

Fleamont chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Sounds like you’re having quite the adventure, son. Any trouble with those pranks of yours?”

James tried to look innocent, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Just a bit, Dad. But it’s all in good fun, I promise. You’d be proud—I’m making a name for Gryffindor.”

Euphemia shot him a look that was half serious, half amused. “Just remember to keep it within reason, James. We don’t want any more owls from Professor McGonagall about misbehaviour.”

James gave her a sheepish smile, but he couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “No more owls, I promise, Mum.”

The night wore on, and after dinner, they all moved to the living room, settling by the fire. James’s dad handed him a mug of hot chocolate, and they all sat there, basking in the glow of the flames, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company. There was something magical about it—this sense of being home, of being with the people who knew and loved him best.

But as much as James tried to fight it, the warmth and comfort of the room started to make his eyelids droop. After his third yawn, his parents exchanged knowing smiles.

“I think it’s time for bed, love,” Euphemia said, her voice gentle but firm.

James tried to protest, hopping up to his feet with renewed energy. “But I haven’t even told you about my friends yet!”

Fleamont chuckled, settling into a chair near the fire. “We’re all ears, son. Tell us everything.”

And so, James launched into tales of the Marauders, describing each of his friends with a kind of reverence that only came from true friendship. His eyes lit up as he talked about Remus—“He’s bloody brilliant, Mum, and so clever. Always got a plan up his sleeve, even if he’s a bit quiet sometimes.” Euphemia listened, smiling warmly, clearly pleased that her son had found such good mates.

“And Peter—he’s always making us laugh. Bit clumsy, but he’s got a heart of gold,” James added, his enthusiasm bubbling over.

Fleamont chuckled again. “Sounds like a well-rounded group of friends.”

James nodded eagerly. “And, of course, there’s Sirius Black.” His voice took on a tone of pride and affection. “He’s my best mate, Dad. We’ve got plans to make Hogwarts history together.”

At the mention of Sirius, Euphemia and Fleamont exchanged a glance, one that James didn’t miss. There was a hint of concern in their eyes, though they quickly masked it. Fleamont, ever the optimist, smiled reassuringly. “Sirius Black, you say? Well, it sounds like you’ve made some strong bonds. Friends are an important part of life, James.”

Euphemia’s tone was gentle, but there was something in her eyes that made James pause. “We trust your judgement, sweetheart. Just remember to surround yourself with good influences.”

James sensed the shift in the atmosphere, a slight tension that hadn’t been there before. He looked between his parents, trying to reassure them. “Don’t worry, Mum, Dad. Sirius is loyal. We’ve got each other’s backs.”

Fleamont reached over and ruffled James’s hair, his affection clear. “That’s what we like to hear, son. Hogwarts is a place for making memories and forging lasting friendships. Just make sure those friendships bring out the best in you.”

Euphemia leaned down and kissed James’s forehead, her eyes soft with love and something else—something protective. “We’re proud of the young wizard you’re becoming, James. Hogwarts has a way of shaping character, and we’re excited to see the man you’ll grow into.”

James couldn’t help but feel a swell of warmth in his chest at their words. He loved his friends, but there was something special about knowing his parents were proud of him too. As he finally settled under the cosy blankets of his bed, the familiar scent of home all around him, he could feel their love wrapping around him like a second blanket. 

“Sleep well, James,” his mum whispered, smoothing his hair back. “Dream of magic and adventures. Hogwarts is your second home, but remember, this is your first home, and we’re always here for you.”

His dad’s voice came next, a gentle rumble in the quiet room. “Goodnight, son. We love you.”

James drifted into a peaceful slumber, feeling the love and support of his parents like a comforting weight. But just before sleep claimed him entirely, a small worry crept in—what had that look between his parents meant? Why the concern when he mentioned Sirius? He’d never seen them react like that before.

But the warmth of his bed and the exhaustion from the long day soon pulled him under, and his thoughts faded, leaving only the quiet contentment of being home.

* * *

The first week back home was a whirlwind of excitement for James, and the Potter house was buzzing with Christmas cheer. Euphemia and James threw themselves into transforming the living room into a festive wonderland, and soon the place was positively glowing with holiday spirit. Twinkling lights snaked around the walls, colourful garlands hung from every available surface, and the Christmas tree was a sight to behold—decked out in a myriad of ornaments, each one more dazzling than the last. The whole house smelled of cinnamon and pine, warm and comforting.

James was in his element, carefully hanging a bauble on one of the lower branches of the tree. The little ornament caught the light from the fireplace, reflecting it back in tiny, shimmering bursts. He turned to his mum, unable to contain his excitement. “Mum, do you think we could invite Sirius to our Christmas party? It wouldn’t be the same without him!” He’d already invited Peter, and Remus was stuck at Hogwarts, but there was still a chance that Sirius could join them, even if it was just for one night. Surely his parents could let him go for a bit?

Euphemia, who was busy adjusting a string of lights, paused and smiled warmly at her son. “Oh, James, I know how much you enjoy Sirius’s company. It’s wonderful that you have such a good friend.”

James grinned, his mind already racing with the idea of having Sirius there for the holidays. “He’s the best, Mum! We could show him the magic tricks you taught me, and he could even help us with the decorations! He’s got a good eye for it, you know.”

But as he continued decorating, James noticed a shift in his mum’s expression. Euphemia’s smile faltered slightly, and she knelt down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes that James didn’t quite understand. “Sweetheart, I appreciate how much you care about your friends. But, you see, there are some things that… Well, it’s not always easy to explain.”

James frowned, curiosity and confusion battling it out in his mind. “Why not, Mum? Sirius is nice, and he’d love to come. I’m sure of it.”

Euphemia sighed, her expression thoughtful as she searched for the right words. “It’s not about whether Sirius is nice or not, James. Sometimes, grown-ups have rules and expectations that children might not fully understand. The Blacks have certain beliefs, and, well, inviting Sirius might not be the best idea.”

James furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of what she was saying. It didn’t seem fair at all. “But why, Mum? He’s my best friend.”

Euphemia met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and something that looked like empathy. “James, it’s not about you or Sirius. It’s about respecting the rules of other families. I know it’s hard to understand, but there are things we must consider to keep the peace and show kindness even when it’s difficult.”

James felt a sharp twinge of disappointment, like a tiny crack in the excitement he’d been feeling all week. “Okay, Mum. I guess I understand. But it’s not fair.”

His mum pulled him into a gentle hug, the warmth of her embrace soothing the sting of his disappointment. “Life isn’t always fair, my love. But we can still make the best of it and enjoy the time we have with those we care about. Now, let’s finish decorating, and we’ll make this Christmas party one to remember, even without Sirius.”

James nodded, but as they continued to deck the halls, he couldn’t quite shake the sense of longing for Sirius’ presence. His mum’s words echoed in his mind, and though he trusted her completely, he couldn’t help feeling a bit unsettled. He tried to puzzle it all out—Sirius’s family, pure-bloods, Muggle-borns—and it dawned on him that the world wasn’t as simple as he’d always believed. There were layers to it, complications he’d never had to think about before.

James continued hanging ornaments, but his thoughts were far away, with Sirius. He wondered what his best mate would say if he knew about this conversation. Probably something witty and a bit cheeky, but there’d be a hurt in his eyes, too. James hated the thought of Sirius spending Christmas in that cold, dark house with people who didn’t appreciate how brilliant he was.

But James also knew his mum meant well. She was just trying to protect him, trying to make sure everything stayed as peaceful as possible. And so, with a small sigh, James decided he’d make this Christmas as wonderful as he could—for his parents, for Peter, and for Sirius, even if he wasn’t there in person. He’d find a way to make it up to Sirius, he promised himself. After all, if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that the Marauders always looked out for each other, no matter what.

* * *

Friday 23rd December 1971

Diagon Alley was buzzing with the sort of holiday cheer that you could almost feel crackling in the air. The place was packed, but in a good way—witches and wizards darting about, arms full of parcels, faces lit up with the kind of joy that only Christmas could bring. The scent of warm, sugary treats mixed with the crisp winter air, and James couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy as he navigated through the crowd with Peter and his dad.

Fleamont, ever the organised one, had a list of last-minute errands clutched in his hand. “Right, James,” he said, leading the way with a determined stride, “we need to stop by Madam Primpernelle’s for your aunt’s Christmas present, then we’ll swing by Ollivanders for that special wand polish your mother’s after. Oh, and don’t let me forget the enchanted mistletoe for the entryway!”

Peter, looking like he was taking this shopping expedition as seriously as an exam, nodded eagerly. “Yes, Mr. Potter! I’ve got it all written down, sir.”

As they approached Madam Primpernelle’s Beautifying Potions, James’s eyes couldn’t help but dart around, taking in the festive decorations that adorned the shops. Diagon Alley always looked magical, but at Christmas, it was like it had been hit with an extra-strength enchantment. He turned to his dad, his excitement bubbling over. “Dad, do you think we could pop into Quality Quidditch Supplies? I want to get Sirius a little something for Christmas.”

Fleamont grinned, ruffling James’s hair affectionately. “Of course, son. A Quidditch gift sounds like a brilliant idea. But let’s be quick about it—we’ve got quite a list to get through.”

James and Peter dashed into Quality Quidditch Supplies like it was the final lap of a race, their eyes immediately drawn to the gleaming new Quaffles on display. James picked one up, turning it over in his hands and imagining the look on Sirius’s face when he opened it. “This one’s perfect,” he declared, and Peter nodded in agreement.

The festive atmosphere of Diagon Alley seemed to wrap itself around them like a warm cloak, adding to the excitement of the holiday season. But even as they crossed off Madam Primpernelle’s and Ollivanders from their list, James had something else on his mind. He hadn’t yet found the perfect gift for Remus, and that nagging thought wouldn’t leave him alone. Remus’s robes always seemed a bit too worn, a bit too small, and James was determined to do something about it.

“Dad, Pete, I’m just going to run over to Madam Malkin’s real quick. I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” he said, already half-jogging in that direction.

Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions was like stepping into a different world—a world of soft fabrics and warm colours, where everything was neatly arranged and utterly inviting. James started browsing the racks, already picturing Remus’s face when he saw the new robes. He picked out a few that he thought would suit Remus, his heart light with the anticipation of surprising his friend.

As he gathered an armful of robes, James made his way towards the changing rooms. He pushed aside the curtain to an unoccupied area—only to find himself face-to-face with Marlene McKinnon.

“Whoa, sorry about that!” James stammered, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “Didn’t mean to barge in like that.”

Marlene’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly adjusted her robes and gave him a half-smile. “It’s fine. Just give me a warning next time, yeah?”

James scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Right, got it. James Potter, by the way.”

“Marlene McKinnon,” she replied, her tone curt, but her eyes were still appraising him, like she was trying to decide if he was trouble or just an idiot.

They both knew each other’s names, of course—who didn’t know everyone in their year at Hogwarts?—but it wasn’t like they’d ever had a proper conversation. The only thing James really knew about Marlene was that she hung out with Lily, and she seemed quieter, a bit more reserved.

There was an awkward silence, the kind that James was usually pretty good at filling, but this time he found himself a bit lost for words. “So, Marlene,” he started, floundering a bit, “what brings you to Madam Malkin’s today? New robes for the spring term?”

Brilliant, Potter. What else would she be doing here?

Marlene raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on his obvious question. “Something like that.”

James was saved from his awkwardness by the sudden thought of why he was there in the first place. “Well, I’m here for a friend,” he explained. “Remus Lupin. He usually gets hand-me-downs, so I thought I’d surprise him with something fresh.”

Something in Marlene’s expression shifted then, the wariness giving way to something softer, more curious. “That’s… thoughtful of you.”

James grinned, feeling a bit of his usual confidence return. “Yeah, well, we’re a tight-knit bunch, the Marauders.” He couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at using the name in conversation. “Got to look out for each other, you know?”

Before Marlene could respond, the curtain rustled again, and Peter timidly poked his head in. “Hey, James, I couldn’t find you, mate. Oh, hi there,” he added, noticing Marlene.

“Pete, meet Marlene McKinnon. Marlene, this is Peter Pettigrew,” James introduced, feeling a bit more at ease now.

Peter offered a shy smile. “Nice to meet you, Marlene.”

Marlene returned the smile, her guard lowering just a little more. “Likewise, Peter.”

The three of them chatted for a bit, talking about Hogwarts and the latest gossip from school. Marlene, who had seemed so standoffish at first, gradually warmed up to the two boys. She had a quick wit that surprised James, and he found himself laughing at her dry humour. She didn’t make him feel all self-conscious and defensive like Lily sometimes did. She felt easy to talk to, like someone he could see himself being friends with.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Marlene’s dad, who appeared in the doorway with a friendly smile. “Marley, ready to go?” he called.

Marlene’s eyes lit up at the sound of her nickname, and she nodded, turning back to James and Peter. “Yeah, Dad. This is James and Peter. We were just chatting.”

Mr. McKinnon, who had the same sandy blond hair as his daughter, extended a hand to James and Peter. His clothes had a bit of a Muggle flair to them, which caught James’s attention. “Nice to meet you both,” he said warmly.

As they exchanged pleasantries, James couldn’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie. Marlene was funny and sharp, and he was glad they’d run into each other. She didn’t make him feel all flustered like Lily did, and she was clearly someone who could hold her own. As she and her dad headed out of the shop, James called after her with a grin.

“Until next time, Marley!”

Marlene chuckled, giving him a wave as they left. James watched them go, feeling like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to run into her again.

* * *

Saturday 24th December 1971

The Potter’s Christmas party was the sort of magical affair that made you feel like you’d stepped into one of those enchanted snow globes, the ones where everything seems a little brighter, a little warmer. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the fireplace, and twinkling fairy lights danced merrily around the tree, casting a golden light that made everything feel wrapped in warmth. It was the kind of scene that could only exist in a house full of love and a bit of old magic. Laughter echoed off the walls, mingling with the scent of cinnamon, gingerbread, and that peculiar festive tang of spiced cider. Carols hummed in the background, not too loud, just enough to remind you that it was Christmas and everything was exactly as it should be.

Amidst all this festive cheer, James found a quiet corner with Peter. They’d both piled their plates high with sweets, which they were steadily working their way through.

James, eyes twinkling with the reflection of the fairy lights, glanced around the room with a satisfied grin. “Can you believe it, Pete? Christmas at the Potters'—it’s always something special, isn’t it?”

Peter nodded, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked around the room. “Yeah, it’s brilliant, James. Thanks for inviting me.”

James felt a warm surge of affection for his friend. Peter always looked so chuffed to be included, like it was the best thing in the world just to be there. But then, a shadow of a thought crossed James’s mind, dimming his smile just a touch. “You know, I can’t help but think how much Sirius and Remus would love this. Wish they could be here, too.”

Peter’s smile wavered for a moment, and James immediately felt a pang of guilt. “I thought you were having a great time with just me here, James.”

James was quick to shake his head, leaning in to nudge Peter with his shoulder, playful but sincere. “Oh, Pete, I am! You know that. It’s just… well, you know how it is. Christmas doesn’t feel quite right without the whole gang, does it?”

Peter gave a small, understanding nod, but James didn’t miss the flicker of disappointment that lingered in his friend’s eyes. Peter wasn’t always the easiest to read, but he had a way of making you feel a bit like you’d forgotten something important when you hadn’t meant to. “Yeah, I get it. Maybe next year, they’ll be here, too.”

James clapped Peter on the back, feeling that old surge of loyalty. “Absolutely, mate. We’ll make it happen.” He grinned, a determined look in his eyes. “We’ll have the best Christmas yet, all of us together. And who knows, maybe we’ll even get Sirius to put on one of Mum’s Christmas jumpers.”

Peter snorted at the image, and James felt the warmth return, the small cloud of melancholy lifting as they shared a laugh. “Now that,” Peter said with a chuckle, “would be something worth seeing.”

James grinned, picturing it himself—Sirius, with his usual air of rebellion, wrapped up in something knitted and terribly festive, Remus rolling his eyes in that fond way he did, and Peter, looking as pleased as punch just to be part of it all. It was a good thought, and as James looked around the room again, he felt certain that next year, they’d make it happen. Because that’s what the Marauders did—they made things happen, together.

For now, though, James was happy to enjoy the moment, with Peter by his side, in a house full of magic and Christmas cheer. And really, it wasn’t half bad. Not at all.

* * *

Christmas morning broke with a gentle radiance, bathing the Potter family’s living room in a warm and inviting light. The air was filled with the comforting scents of freshly baked mince pies and the piney aroma of the Christmas tree. Euphemia and Fleamont, clad in their festive pyjamas, awaited their son’s arrival with a quiet anticipation, their faces alight with the joy of the season.

James came bounding down the stairs, his tousled hair sticking up in defiant tufts as though he’d just tumbled out of bed. His eyes sparkled with the pure, unfiltered excitement of Christmas morning, though a subtle shadow of wistfulness lingered in their depths, a silent testament to the friends who were missing from his holiday.

“Morning, Mum, Dad!” James greeted, his grin wide enough to rival the sun’s own brilliance.

“Good morning, dear,” Euphemia said, pulling him into a tight, warm embrace. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, son!” Fleamont added, giving James a playful ruffle of his already unruly hair. “Ready to see what Santa’s left for you this year?”

James chuckled, his enthusiasm momentarily lifting the veil of melancholy. “Absolutely!”

The family gathered around the Christmas tree, its branches festooned with twinkling lights and shimmering ornaments, creating a scene straight out of a fairytale. Beneath the tree sat a pile of presents, each wrapped in colourful paper that seemed to dance with anticipation.

As they began unwrapping gifts, the room erupted with laughter and delighted exclamations. Euphemia had chosen a particularly charming set of Quidditch-themed pyjamas for James, which he declared to be the best gift ever with a dramatic flourish. Fleamont, meanwhile, unwrapped a new set of magical shaving equipment, which he inspected with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction.

Once the last of the presents were opened, the family settled around the crackling fire, cups of steaming hot cocoa in hand. The warmth from the fire and the comfort of being together was a balm to James's soul.

“Thanks, Mum, Dad. This has been amazing,” James said, his smile genuine and heartfelt.

Euphemia gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’re so glad you’re enjoying it, dear. Christmas is about being with the ones you love.”

Fleamont nodded in agreement. “And speaking of love, we’ve noticed you’ve been missing your friends. It’s perfectly alright to feel that way. Hogwarts will be back before you know it, and you’ll be reunited with them soon enough.”

James nodded, appreciating the kindness and understanding in his parents’ words. “Yeah, I know. But being here with you both makes it special, too.”

As they sat together in quiet contentment, James felt a profound sense of gratitude for the love and warmth that surrounded him. He was keenly aware of how fortunate he was, especially when he thought of his friends, who were not so lucky. The Potters’ home was a wellspring of magic and affection, and James thought, with a touch of determination, that there was more than enough to share. Maybe, just maybe, he could bring a bit of this Christmas magic to Sirius and Remus, even if they were miles away. Because, in the end, Christmas was as much about sharing as it was about receiving.

Chapter Text

Tuesday 27th December 1971

James and Peter had spent the day out in the snowy hills, sledging down slopes until their faces were numb and their laughter echoed off the trees. It was the sort of day that felt timeless, where nothing else mattered but the cold bite of the wind and the thrill of speeding down the snow. By the time evening settled in, casting long shadows over the white landscape, the two boys had found a spot beneath a massive pine tree, its branches heavy with snow. They leaned back against the trunk, catching their breath and sharing ideas for how they might get back at Snape.

“You know, James,” Peter began, his voice hesitant, almost as if he wasn’t sure he should be speaking at all, “we should really do something about Snape. He’s been on our case all term.”

James nodded, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. “Absolutely, Pete. Can’t let him think he’s got the upper hand. But here’s the thing—our best strategists are off the board. We need a proper plan, and it’s a bit tricky without Sirius and Remus.”

James had plenty of ideas, that wasn’t the problem. His mind was always buzzing with schemes and pranks, like a fireworks display that never quite ran out. But execution was another story entirely. It was as if the ideas were there, floating around like clouds, but pinning them down—turning them into something real—that was where things got sticky. That’s where Sirius and Remus came in, filling in the gaps and making everything run like clockwork. With Sirius, there was always that extra bit of daring, that flair that turned a simple prank into a masterpiece. And Remus, well, Remus made sure they didn’t end up in McGonagall’s office every other week. Without them, James felt a bit like a broomstick without a handle—fast, but no real direction.

Peter scratched his head, brow furrowed in concentration. “What if we turned his hair green? Or hexed his robes to turn into a dress in the middle of Potions? No, wait, that’s too mean, isn’t it?”

James chuckled, though there was a touch of sadness behind it. “Not bad ideas, Pete, but they’re missing something. No flair, no drama. That’s what Sirius and Remus bring to the table. I miss those blokes, you know?”

Peter’s expression darkened for just a moment, something unspoken flickering in his eyes—something that looked suspiciously like jealousy. “Well, I’m not a genius like them, am I? I can’t come up with the amazing plans they do.”

James noticed the change in Peter’s tone and felt a pang of guilt. He placed a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t be daft, Pete. You’re just as much a part of this as they are. We all have our strengths, right? We just need a bit more practice, that’s all. And don’t sell yourself short—you’re more creative than you give yourself credit for.”

Peter forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, sure, James. We’ll come up with something.”

As they trudged back towards the house, their breath visible in the cold air, James couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Every idea they tossed around felt flat, dull compared to the usual brilliance of their full group. It wasn’t just the absence of Sirius and Remus that weighed on him; it was the way Peter had looked at him—like he was just a placeholder until the others came back. James had never really had to think about making Peter feel included before. Peter was always there, eager to please, always following along with whatever madcap scheme James and Sirius cooked up. But now, with the other two missing, James realised just how much he’d taken Peter’s presence for granted.

The truth was, James had always felt a need to impress Sirius and Remus, to be the funniest, the cleverest, the most daring. But with Peter, it was different. It was comfortable, easy. Maybe that was why he hadn’t noticed Peter’s insecurities before. But now, he saw it clear as day, and it gnawed at him.

As they continued walking, the snow crunching beneath their boots, James glanced over at Peter, determined to set things right. “You know, Pete,” he began, his voice earnest, “I like hanging out with you. You’re a good mate, and I’m glad we’re doing this.”

Peter’s eyes brightened just a little, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “You mean that, James?”

“'Course I do,” James replied, giving him a genuine smile. “But yeah, I do miss Sirius and Remus. The Marauders… we’re like the heart of mischief at Hogwarts. Without them, it feels like something’s missing.”

Peter’s smile faded again, and his shoulders slumped slightly. “Yeah, I get it. They’re great, and I’m just… me.”

James stopped walking, turning to face Peter fully. “Oi, knock that off,” he said firmly. “You’re not just ‘you.’ You’re Peter Pettigrew, one of the Marauders, and we’re all in this together. We’ll sort out this Snape business, and when Sirius and Remus get back, we’ll be the unstoppable foursome again. But until then, it’s you and me, and we’re going to make sure Snivellus regrets ever crossing us.”

Peter managed a small smile, the flicker of insecurity still lingering but tempered by James’s words. “Yeah, you’re right, James. We’ll show Snape not to mess with us.”

As they made their way back towards the warmth of the house, James silently vowed to himself to make sure Peter knew just how much he was valued. Because if there was one thing James Potter knew, it was that true friendship was magic in its own right, and he wasn’t about to let any of his friends forget that.

* * *

Later that evening, the Potter kitchen was filled with the sounds of clattering dishes, laughter, and the sweet, comforting aroma of home-cooked meals. James, as usual, was bustling around the room, his energy boundless despite the long day of sledging and plotting. He was doing his best to appear carefree, but there was always that undercurrent of restlessness with him, especially when he felt something brewing. His mother was deep in conversation with her sister, Clara, who had popped over for a visit. The two women were chatting away, their voices rising and falling in that familiar, comforting way that made the house feel even more like home.

As James hovered near the stove, pretending to be engrossed in stirring something, he kept one ear tuned to their conversation. It was impossible not to, really. The topic had shifted to Clara’s daughter, Emma, who had just gotten engaged. There was something about the way they talked about it, all soft smiles and warm tones, that made James feel oddly out of place.

“Oh, Clara, I’m so happy for Emma,” his mum was saying, her voice filled with genuine delight. “Engagements are such joyous occasions. It feels like only yesterday James was just a baby, and now look at us, discussing weddings.”

James cringed inwardly. Weddings? It was the sort of thing that made him feel like he was being gently nudged towards a future he wasn’t quite ready for—a future that seemed distant and almost too adult for him to comprehend. He was determined to stay young forever, or at least to cling to the idea of endless pranks and carefree days with his mates.

Aunt Clara, looking dreamy, nodded along. “Yes, time flies. It won’t be long before James starts thinking about love and marriage too.”

James nearly dropped the spoon he was holding, a wave of discomfort rolling through him. Love and marriage? That was something grown-ups did. Not him, not now, and definitely not while there were still so many pranks to pull and adventures to have. 

His mum, of course, noticed his discomfort straight away. There was a glint of mischief in her eyes as she teased, “Oh, James, you’ll find a lovely girl one day, just like your cousin Emma did. Who knows, you might even marry your best friend.”

James wrinkled his nose in response, the idea so far removed from his current priorities that he couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Nah, Mum, all I want is to live with the Marauders forever and have fun. I don’t want to grow up, and I don’t care about girls.”

His mun and Aunt Clara exchanged one of those knowing glances, the kind that adults seemed to share when they thought they knew something you didn’t. Both women stifled a chuckle, which only made James more determined to avoid the topic altogether. 

His mum, clearly enjoying herself, pressed on, “Speaking of girls, James, are there any special ones at school that you fancy?”

James felt his face grow hot, the kind of heat that crept up your neck and settled in your cheeks. Why did they want to talk about this stuff, anyway? It wasn’t like he was some lovesick fool, constantly mooning over girls. “Oh, Mum, you know me! I’m too busy causing mischief with Sirius and the others to think about that sort of thing.”

But Aunt Clara wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. With a teasing smile, she chimed in, “Come on, James, every young wizard has a crush or two. Is there a little witch who’s caught your eye?”

James squirmed uncomfortably, desperately searching for a way out of this conversation. He was used to quick escapes and clever distractions, but this—this felt like being cornered in the Great Hall with no wand in hand. “Well, you see, Aunt Clara, Hogwarts is a big place, and I… I just haven’t thought about that kind of stuff yet.”

The two women exchanged amused glances, clearly having the time of their lives at his expense. His mum reached out and patted his shoulder, her tone softening. “Oh, sweetie, there’s no rush. Just focus on your studies and having fun with your friends. Love will find you when the time is right.”

James let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, grateful to have the focus shifted back to something he was comfortable with—his carefree adventures with the Marauders. “Exactly, Mum! No need to worry about all that now. So, who’s up for some more mince pies?” 

And with that, he quickly diverted attention back to the food, hoping to leave all this talk of love and marriage far, far behind.

* * *

Saturday 31st December 1971

Their home was bathed in the soft glow of golden fairy lights, the warmth from the fireplace casting flickering shadows across the walls as the clock inched closer to midnight. The living room, usually so quiet in the late hours, was now alive with the cosy chaos of the Potter family, all eagerly awaiting the arrival of the new year.

The comforting scent of mince pies mixed with the rich aroma of hot cocoa filled the air, and the room echoed with laughter, the clinking of mugs, and the occasional pop from the fire. They were all bundled up on the couch, surrounded by a haphazard pile of blankets, sharing stories and jokes as they waited for the countdown to begin.

His mum, her eyes sparkling with affection, looked over at her son and asked, “Are you excited for the new year, James?”

James, always ready with a grin, flashed one now, his face illuminated by the golden light of the fire. “Absolutely, Mum! It’s going to be brilliant, I can feel it.”

His dad, sitting next to him with that familiar twinkle in his eye, chimed in, “We’ve had quite the year, haven’t we? Full of adventures and a fair bit of mischief, if I recall correctly.”

James nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, Dad. Every bit of it was brilliant.”

As the clock approached midnight, they huddled closer together, each holding a steaming mug of cocoa. The sound of distant fireworks began to fill the air, their crackling excitement reaching them even here, and the energy in the room grew.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” they counted down together, their voices filled with the kind of joy that comes from being surrounded by those you love most.

In the final seconds, they shouted, “Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Cheers erupted as they exchanged hugs, their laughter mingling with the distant sound of fireworks outside. His mum pulled James into a tight embrace, her eyes shining with the deep love she felt for him, a love that had only grown stronger with each passing year.

“Happy New Year, my foolish boy,” she whispered into his ear, her voice full of warmth and a touch of playful affection.

His dad, grinning as he clapped James on the back, added, “May this year bring you even more laughter, more mischief, and a bit more wisdom too, eh?”

As the room filled with the soft pops of fireworks in the distance, they settled back onto the couch, James nestled comfortably between his parents. The three of them sipped their cocoa, the warmth from the mugs seeping into their hands.

“Here’s to family, love, and the adventures that await us in the new year,” his mum toasted, raising her mug with a smile that was pure contentment.

James, never one to miss a chance for a toast, chimed in with a grin, “And to the Marauders! May our pranks be legendary this year—no, even more legendary!”

Laughter bubbled up once more as they clinked their mugs together, the sound a soft, joyful ring that seemed to echo around the room. As the clock moved past midnight, James felt a wave of tiredness wash over him, the excitement of the evening finally catching up.

His dad chuckled, noticing the way James’s eyelids were drooping. “Looks like someone’s ready for bed.”

His mum smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from James’s forehead. “How about we ring in the new year with a little nap on the couch, hmm?”

The suggestion was met with sleepy nods from James, who was already feeling the pull of sleep. With blankets tucked snugly around them, the Potters settled into a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of celebration outside lulling them into a peaceful slumber. 

And there they stayed, nestled together as the first moments of the new year drifted by, wrapped in warmth and the quiet comfort of being exactly where they were meant to be.

* * *

Sunday 1st January 1972

The first day of the new year dawned crisp and clear, the kind of morning that made you feel like anything was possible. His mum was bustling around the kitchen, preparing a hearty breakfast, the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh toast filling the air. James, still a bit groggy from last night’s late celebrations, could feel a sense of anticipation buzzing beneath his skin. Today was going to be brilliant—his dad had promised to take him to the Ministry, and James had been pestering him the entire Christmas break for this very moment.

He could hardly believe it when his dad finally gave in. The Ministry of Magic was the stuff of legend, a place where all the important things happened, and James was practically vibrating with curiosity. He’d heard bits and pieces from his parents and Peter’s dad, too, and his imagination had done the rest, filling in the gaps with wild stories of enchanted offices and Aurors duelling dark wizards in the corridors. And now, he was finally going to see it all for himself.

The Ministry turned out to be even more impressive than James had imagined. It was a labyrinth of enchanted corridors, filled with bustling witches and wizards, each one hurrying off to some mysterious task. The grand atrium took his breath away—the golden fountain in the centre, with its witch, wizard, and magical creatures, seemed to sparkle under the enchanted ceiling. James’s eyes were wide as saucers, darting around to catch every detail, every glimpse of magic at work. He barely noticed the owl that swooped low overhead, its wings a blur as it delivered a parcel to one of the upper floors.

His dad chuckled, noticing his son’s awe. “Quite something, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” James breathed, his head on a swivel. It was like Hogwarts, but bigger, and full of grown-ups who were actually doing important stuff. He could hardly believe his luck—first year at school, and now this.

As they turned a corner, they nearly collided with a young man with flaming red hair, who was deeply engrossed in examining what looked like a silver box with two slits at the top. James squinted at it, trying to make sense of the label: ‘Toaster’. Whatever it was, the bloke seemed fascinated by it.

“Watch where you’re going, Weasley!” a passing witch snapped, her voice as sharp as her nose. But the young man didn’t seem to mind, his attention still fixed on the Muggle artefact in his hands.

His dad held out a hand to stop James from bumping into the redhead, who finally looked up with a sheepish grin. “Oh, terribly sorry about that! Just lost in the marvels of Muggle artefacts. Fascinating, aren’t they?”

His dad laughed, clapping the man on the back. “This is James, my son. Weasley, meet the future troublemaker of the Potter family.”

James grinned and shook the man’s hand, feeling a bit more at ease. “Arthur Weasley, a pleasure to meet you, James! Always good to see young witches and wizards interested in the magical world.” Arthur’s enthusiasm was infectious, and James found himself warming up to him immediately.

Arthur started talking about plugs, electricity, and something called a rubber duck, and James listened, half confused and half intrigued. He didn’t know the first thing about Muggles, really, but the way Arthur went on about them made it sound like they were doing magic without even realising it.

His dad chuckled again, his voice booming in the marble corridor. “Well, Arthur, it seems you’ve found a kindred spirit in James here. He’s been itching to see the Ministry for a while now.”

Arthur’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, the Ministry! Always a place of wonders, though not everyone sees it that way. Well, I must be going now—can’t be caught slacking in my first week at work!” He gave them a friendly wave before hurrying off, still holding the toaster like it was some kind of ancient relic.

“He’s the new kid on the block,” his dad explained as they continued walking. “Just an assistant right now, but you can tell his heart’s in Muggle studies. I wouldn’t be surprised if he runs the whole department one day.”

“He seems nice,” James said, a crooked smile on his face. “Talks a lot, though.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” his dad teased, ruffling James’s hair affectionately. “But you’re right, he’s a good lad. Got his heart in the right place.”

As they wandered further into the Ministry, the corridors echoed with the hurried footsteps of wizards and witches, all caught up in their own important tasks. But their easy stroll took a sharp turn when they rounded a corner and nearly bumped into two imposing figures.

One of them had a pale, pointed face, with blond hair so light it was nearly white, and cold grey eyes that seemed to cut right through you. The other, tall and well-built, had an oddly familiar look about him—handsome, with fair skin, black hair, and piercing blue eyes. James’s stomach dropped when he caught sight of their name tags: the blond was ‘Abraxas Malfoy’, and the other was ‘Orion Black’.

He’s Sirius’s dad!

Orion’s eyes, cold and unyielding, locked onto James and his dad. Beside him, Abraxas wore a smirk that made James’s skin crawl. His dad, though clearly uneasy, kept his face calm and composed, but James could sense the tension radiating off him.

“Potter,” Orion sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “What brings you and your… offspring to the Ministry? Surely, the likes of you don’t belong in these esteemed halls.”

His dad's jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured. James, standing a little closer to his dad now, felt a swirl of confusion and discomfort. He’d heard about the Blacks, of course, but seeing Sirius’s dad here, looking at him like that, made it all too real.

Abraxas chimed in, his voice mocking. “And here I thought this place was reserved for respectable wizards. Not blood traitors and their impure spawn.”

James’s heart raced, and he glanced up at his dad, unsure of what to do or say. “What’s a blood traitor, Dad?” he whispered, trying to make sense of it all.

His dad leaned down slightly, his voice low and firm. “We’ll talk about it later, James. Just ignore them.”

But ignoring Orion and Abraxas was easier said than done. Orion’s gaze bore into James, his lips curling in a sneer. “So you’re the Potter boy. My son’s little friend.”

James gulped, suddenly realising that Orion’s hostility wasn’t just about his dad—it was about Sirius too. No wonder Sirius never talked about his family, not if this was what he had to deal with. The tension in the air was thick, and James could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of fear and anger.

Abraxas, his tone laced with condescension, added, “Word has it that the influence of your kind is spreading. It’s a shame that pure-blood lines are tainted by such connections.”

His dad , now visibly struggling to keep his composure, spoke firmly, “Orion, Abraxas, we have business to attend to. Move aside.”

Orion stepped forward, blocking their path with a menacing glare. “You think you can just waltz through here, Potter? Do you think I’m going to let your blood traitor spawn taint my son’s mind any further? Your kind is polluting our world.”

His dad's hand twitched towards his wand, but before anything could happen, a voice echoed down the corridor. “What’s going on here?”

An older man with a face full of scars appeared, his presence commanding and intimidating. Orion and Abraxas reluctantly stepped aside, shooting one last hateful glare at the Potters.

The man’s gaze lingered on James for a moment, his eyes sharp and assessing. “You alright, lad?”

James looked up at him, reading the name tag that said ‘Alastor Moody - Auror’. He nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and unease wash over him.

His dad, still bristling with anger, nodded curtly. “We’re fine. Just a misunderstanding.”

Moody gestured for them to follow him, and they walked down the corridor in silence until they reached an office. The Auror turned to his dad, his voice gruff but not unkind. “He’ll be fine here.” With a flick of his wand, the door to the little hallway between the office and the main corridor closed. His gaze softened as he looked at James. “Me and your father have some business to discuss. Won’t take long.”

His dad gave James a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Wait here for me, James. I’ll be back shortly.”

James lingered outside the office, his thoughts swirling. The encounter with Black and Malfoy had left him shaken, more than he wanted to admit. He’d never had someone look at him like that before, with such hatred and disgust, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. And that word they used—blood traitor. They’d said it like those Slytherins at school spat out the word Mudblood at Lily.

He stood up straighter when his father returned, but the question was already on his lips.

“Dad,” James began hesitantly, “What’s a blood traitor?”

His dad sighed, crouching down to James's level, his expression softening. "James, it's a term some wizards use to describe those who don’t share their beliefs about blood purity. It’s a narrow-minded view, and it’s not something you need to worry about."

"But why did they call us that?" James asked, frowning, his voice smaller than usual.

His dad hesitated, searching for the right words. "Some wizards believe that only those with pure-blood lineage are truly magical. They think anyone with connections to Muggles or Muggle-borns is betraying their magical heritage. But, James, it’s just a belief—a wrong one at that. Blood purity doesn’t determine a wizard’s worth. What matters is who you are and the choices you make."

James took this in, his young mind trying to untangle the complex web of prejudice he'd just been introduced to. "So... we’re not bad?"

His dad smiled gently, cupping James's cheek in a way that made everything feel a bit more okay. "Not at all, my boy. We’re proud of who we are, and we don’t need to follow anyone else’s small-minded views. The wizarding world is big and strange, and you’ll meet all sorts. The trick is to stay true to yourself and what you know is right."

James nodded, relief mingling with the confusion in his eyes. His dad ruffled his hair affectionately, messing it up just the way James liked, before they headed out of the Ministry. But as they walked through the labyrinth of corridors, James’s thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to the day’s encounters, looping round and round like a restless Snitch.

Sirius is stuck in that house with that man and the rest of his family...

What if they hurt him because he’s friends with me, a blood—

They think I’ve ruined their son…

What if Sirius starts to believe—

No. No, he wouldn’t, he’s my best mate.

But Remus is a half-blood. His mum was a Muggle. His blood isn’t ‘pure.’ What if people—

No. No, I’ll protect Remus from anything. I won’t let him get hurt.

And Lily... She’s a—

He yanked off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he could physically push the thoughts out of his head. He refused to let them spiral further. His stomach still twisted uncomfortably, a heavy pit of guilt and fear settling there, but as they finally stepped into the sunlight outside, the knot began to loosen, just a bit. The warm light on his face helped him think clearer.

James made a silent vow then and there, standing in the bright January sun. He would never let anyone he cared about feel the way he had today—small, unwanted, dirty, like he didn’t belong. He’d protect them all, no matter what it took. He’d prove to the world that blood didn’t make you better or worse, it just... was. What mattered was who you chose to be, and James knew exactly who he wanted to be.

Chapter Text

Sunday 2nd January 1972

James made up his mind pretty quickly after the Ministry incident: he wasn’t going to tell Sirius about his run-in with Mr. Black. Even though a part of him felt a bit guilty for keeping it secret, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Sirius already had enough reasons to despise his last name. If James could spare him even the tiniest flicker of pain, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Brilliant!” James exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the bathroom counter with a loud thud. “Completely brilliant!”

“You’re so clever!” Peter chimed in, his round face beaming with admiration.

The four of them were crammed into the tiny bathroom they all shared. Sirius, fully dressed and holding an umbrella, stood in the bathtub. Above him, a small, dark storm cloud hovered ominously, pouring rain down onto him. Remus, wand in hand, directed the cloud’s movements, his brow furrowed in concentration. Sirius shuffled back and forth in the tub, but the cloud followed him faithfully, drenching him with each step.

James and Peter had only just returned to Hogwarts a few hours ago, but no sooner had they finished dinner than Sirius and Remus had dragged them upstairs to reveal the fruits of their latest scheme. And, as James had suspected, the two evil geniuses had come up with a perfectly wicked idea to get back at Snape.

“Lupin gave me the idea,” Sirius said, grinning with a mix of pride and mischief. “But I found the charm to actually do it. Snivellus won’t know what’s hit him!”

“When can we do it?!” James was practically bouncing on his toes now, unable to contain his excitement. “First thing tomorrow? Breakfast? Potions?”

“Dinner,” Sirius shook his head, a calculating look in his eye. “Bigger audience.”

“Yes, dinner,” James agreed immediately, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He turned to Sirius and Remus, his face lit up with admiration. “Honestly, you two, I’m so bloody proud.”

“Cheers,” Sirius replied, raising an eyebrow in mock irony. Then he glanced at Remus, who was still holding the cloud in place. “Er… Lupin? You can probably stop now. My feet are getting wet.”

“Oh!” Remus snapped out of his focus and flicked his wand, dispelling the cloud. He glanced down at the tub, realising he’d overdone it. The old plughole was struggling to drain all the water, and Sirius was left ankle-deep in cold water. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Sirius laughed, stepping out of the bath and wringing out his soaked robes. “Just make sure you do the same to Snivellus.”

“So, Lupin’s doing this one?” James asked, already picturing Snape’s greasy hair plastered to his head, dripping wet in the middle of the Great Hall.

“He’s better at it,” Sirius said with a casual shrug. “But I can do it too, if we get any interference.”

* * *

Monday 3rd January 1972

Having new mates around made life a lot easier for James—no longer did he have to be the idea bank all the time. He still had that natural leader instinct, of course, but he was getting better at letting others take the spotlight now and then. Especially when their ideas were better than his own. He’d come to realise that not being the centre of attention all the time didn’t mean people would stop noticing him. His competitive streak was still very much intact, though. He absolutely loved the challenge of going head-to-head with Sirius. Whether he won or lost, he always wrapped it up with a broad grin and a hearty slap on the back. Remus, on the other hand, was quickly becoming the best in most of their classes, but he didn’t have the same drive for competition. James didn’t mind, though; he was perfectly content watching Remus excel at everything magical, almost in awe of it.

The first lesson after Christmas was a bit of an odd one. James, Sirius, and Peter were all jittery with nervous energy, buzzing with anticipation for the prank they had lined up. Remus looked excited too, but to James’s surprise, his eager expression was directed at the book in front of him. James had never seen Remus so thrilled to open a book. Had he suddenly developed a love for reading overnight? Maybe Sirius had corrupted him with all those endless hours in the library during the break, which, apparently, both had spent at Hogwarts. James had tried hard to mask the jealousy in his smile when they’d told him.

The day dragged on painfully, every minute crawling by like molasses as James half-listened to the professors drone on. Sirius and Peter were fidgeting too, mirroring his restlessness. But Remus seemed completely absorbed by the lessons. James couldn’t help but watch, confused, as Remus kept consulting their texts with a look of sheer wonder. His newfound focus on reading was definitely paying off—Remus was the first student to get his brick to bounce in Charms, mastering the spell after just a quick glance at his book. James found himself grinning when he saw the scowl on Lily’s face. She was usually the top student in Charms, but Remus was giving her a run for her money.

It was in the afternoon, during Potions, that things started to go pear-shaped. It began with Slughorn handing back their essays on the twelve uses of dragon’s blood. The Marauders did fairly well, even Remus, who hadn’t even started his essay before James left for the Christmas break. As usual, Snape got the highest mark and earned five points for Slytherin. Lily came in second and snagged a point for Gryffindor, only beating Sirius by a few marks. James was eager to tease Sirius about it at every opportunity.

Snape shot Lily an oily smile, and she grinned back, cheeks tinged pink. James felt a surge of irritation—bloody hell, could she stop looking at him like that? Snape wasn’t even remotely good-looking. James wanted to hurl every time he saw that great big nose of his.

“Wonder if it’s worth cosying up to Snivellus just for one measly House point,” Sirius grumbled, loud enough for both Lily and Snape to hear. Lily spun around, her cheeks now sporting two bright pink patches.

“Shut up, Black,” she hissed, “No one likes a sore loser.”

Sirius shot back immediately, “Hardly losing when your boyfriend lets you copy his work.”

James froze for a second—Snape, her boyfriend? But then he remembered the flower Snape had given her and felt a wave of nausea.

“I do not copy him, and Severus is not my boyfriend!” Lily’s face was getting redder. James felt a bit of relief at that—at least the girl had some taste.

“You’re blushing, Evans,” Sirius smirked, nudging James. “Isn’t that sweet?”

James snickered, nodding along. He was always going to back Sirius, no matter what.

“Ignore them, Lily,” Snape whispered, not bothering to turn his head. “They’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of what, Snivellus?” James said quickly, already feeling his blood start to boil. Snape had a way of getting under his skin faster than anyone else. “Jealous of a slimy, greasy git like you? Keep dreaming.”

Sirius laughed, clearly pleased that James had jumped in. Peter laughed too, more to be part of the gang than anything else. Slughorn, blissfully unaware, had his back to the class, scribbling instructions on the blackboard. Even Remus seemed to be ignoring them, more interested in flipping through his book.

At James’s provocation, Snape finally turned around, sneering at Sirius.

“I hear you had a very quiet Christmas, Black,” he said, his voice low and laced with venom. “Your family couldn’t stand to have you around for more than a few days before packing you off back to school, is that right?” His lips curled cruelly. “All the pure-blood families are talking about it—the Blacks’ black sheep.”

James’s heart pounded in his chest. Oh, hell no. How dare that greasy git?! Snape could hurl insults at James all day long; he didn’t care. But going after his friends? That was a whole different story. Nothing made James’s blood boil more, especially when he saw the frozen look on Sirius’s face.

Sirius’s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Shut. Your. Face.”

Okay, so Sirius wasn’t in the right state for his usual sharp comebacks, but James was quick to back him up.

“Yeah, watch it, Snape,” James was scowling now. “You’d better be careful what you say. Never know what might happen.”

“Is that a threat, Potter?” Snape drawled, sounding bored. “Forgive me if I’m not quaking in my boots. Going to set Loony Lupin on me again?”

James’s eyes darted to Remus, who flinched at the nickname. James had only ever heard Snape use it, and he was thankful for that. But Remus already had enough to deal with, what with everyone casting glances at his scars and whispering about his Muggle mother. If they weren’t in class, James didn’t know what he’d do to Snape for being such a cruel git to two of his best mates.

Remus’s hand went straight to his wand, all his focus now on Snape, who smirked and said,

“Oh my, have you actually learnt some magic, Lupin? I’m impressed. Mind you, I’ve heard they can train some monkeys to perform basic tricks, so I suppose it’s no real achievement.”

Remus raised his wand, ready to cast something—he could be even more impulsive than Sirius sometimes. James shot him a warning look, while Sirius grabbed Remus’s wrist and pushed it back down onto the desk.

“Not yet,” Sirius muttered.

Remus clenched his jaw, staring hard at the blackboard, his wand still gripped tightly in his fist. James was seething too, but he tried to ignore Snape, who was chuckling as he turned back around. Lily whispered to Snape,

“There’s no need to be so horrid to him!”

For the rest of the lesson, James could think of nothing but their revenge. His anger was laser-focused on Snape now, not just because of the Hair Prank but because of how he treated Remus. And Lily—why did she keep hanging around Snape? Couldn’t she see how cruel he was? James wanted to humiliate Severus and make Lily see that she should stop being friends with him.

By the time dinner rolled around, Remus was white with rage. He barely touched his food, which was a sure sign he was really angry—Remus was always hungry. He glared at Snape from across the hall, and Snape noticed, nudging the Slytherins around him and pointing at the Marauders, laughing. James thought he could make out the words, “Loony Lupin.” Both he and Sirius scowled back. Lily noticed too and turned to them.

“You lot just leave Sev alone, okay? This stupid fight is going to go on forever if none of you can be mature enough to—”

“Give it a rest, Evans,” James rolled his eyes, his annoyance with Snape spilling over onto her. “Bad enough you have to be friends with the tosser, now you’re trying to defend him? Where’s your House loyalty, eh?”

“This has nothing to do with Houses,” she insisted, indignant. “It’s a ridiculous spat over nothing.”

“He insulted Remus!”

“You all pick on him all the time!”

“He started it!”

“Oh yeah, so you have to finish it, right, Potter?!” She jumped up from her seat, grabbing her bag. “God, you’re so full of yourselves!” She stormed off, plonking herself down further along the table.

“Loves a fight, that one,” James grinned. While fighting with Severus made him want to push the black-haired boy into a hole and hope it swallowed him, fighting with Evans was exhilarating. She was smart, quick with her comebacks, and he loved the feeling of having all her attention on him. It was the one time she looked at him more than Snape.

Back at the Slytherin table, there was a yelp of laughter. Remus snapped, apparently deciding he’d had enough. He stood up, wand in hand, even though he was supposed to wait for Sirius’s signal.

"Ligare Pluviam!"

The spell worked instantly. A rain cloud shot from the end of Remus's wand, so fast that James barely caught a glimpse of it before it settled over Snape's greasy head, grey and swollen like it was about to burst. And burst it did, unleashing a downpour so fierce that James half expected a couple of fish to come flopping out.

At first, Snape looked utterly baffled, his bony hands flying up to shield his head, as if that would do any good. The students around him backed away quickly, none of them eager to get soaked. But Snape, always the stubborn git, tried to move away from the cloud. Fat chance of that. The cloud just followed him, relentless and insistent, drenching him in buckets of icy rain.

"Yes!" Sirius whispered fiercely in Remus's ear, his face lighting up with pure, unfiltered glee. "Bloody yes, Lupin, you beauty!"

James couldn’t help but laugh along, the sound contagious. There was something incredibly satisfying about seeing Snape—a boy so full of spite that even the Slytherins couldn’t always stand him—getting his just deserts. And it wasn’t just them enjoying it; James could see a few of the Slytherins trying to hide their grins, though they quickly looked away when Snape caught their eyes. 

The longer Remus kept his wand trained on Snape, the darker the cloud seemed to get, like it was feeding off his emotions. It was only meant to be a bit of fun, a harmless bit of payback, but as the rain poured down harder, James could feel the mood in the room shift. Snape was starting to sputter now, his eyes squeezed shut against the torrent. His robes were drenched, clinging to him in a way that made him look even more miserable than usual. A puddle was forming around his feet, and James suddenly felt a bit uneasy. 

Then Lily appeared beside him, her face twisted with worry, reaching out as if to stop him herself. “I know it’s you! Stop it now!”

James raised his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling, but it was a bit forced now. The last thing he wanted was to make Lily cry over Snivellus of all people. But before he could say anything, Snape made a break for it, trying to bolt out of the way. His robes were so heavy with water, though, that he slipped and crashed to the floor in a soaked heap. James couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, but it wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be. The rain was coming down so thick now that it was hard to even see Snape through the curtain of water. And the cloud—it had grown somehow, looming larger and darker, rumbling with the threat of lightning.

“Stop it! Please!” Lily’s voice broke, and James could see the tears in her eyes now. That’s when he knew it had gone too far. 

“Er… Remus?” he muttered, reaching out to touch Remus's arm. “He’s had enough, mate…”

But Snape wasn’t getting up. The laughter in the Great Hall had died down, replaced by a few scattered screams. The tension in the room was thick, pressing in on James until he felt like he could hardly breathe.

“FINITE.”

The word rang out through the hall, strong and commanding. The rain stopped immediately, as if someone had flipped a switch. Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. Dumbledore stood in the entrance, calm and composed, despite the chaos he had just walked into. With a flick of his wand, all the water disappeared, leaving the hall looking as if nothing had happened at all. Nothing except for Snape, lying there on the floor, sopping wet and utterly humiliated. 

Remus was shrinking back into his seat, his earlier excitement gone, replaced with a look of guilt and shame. Lily was still crying, and she rushed over to Dumbledore, who was now kneeling by Snape, whispering something too soft for anyone else to hear. 

James felt a pang of guilt, sharp and unexpected. He hated Snape, sure, but he hadn’t meant for it to go this far. He didn’t want to actually hurt the bloke. At least, not like this.

“Everybody to your dormitories, please,” Dumbledore’s voice was quiet, yet it carried across the hall with ease, leaving no room for argument. “Miss Evans, please fetch Madam Pomfrey.”

Lily dashed out of the room, and everyone else started to file out in a subdued line. The Marauders exchanged glances—Sirius looked irritated, Peter terrified, and Remus just utterly crestfallen. James’s mind was racing as they headed back to the Gryffindor Tower, brow furrowed in thought. 

They’d always prided themselves on their pranks, but this… this had gone too far. They’d have to be more careful from now on. No more pranks that could actually hurt someone. Even Snape didn’t deserve that.

Chapter Text

Most of the Gryffindors were gathered in the common room, a buzz of speculation filling the air as they debated who could have pulled off the latest stunt. The Marauders, usually eager to bask in the limelight of any such debate, slunk upstairs, their faces pale with an unmistakable trace of guilt.

Their dormitory was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the usual chaos. Remus sat on his bed, staring despondently at the floor, his usual poise replaced by an unmistakable look of sickness and regret. James, watching him with a mix of apprehension and concern, knew that the spell Remus had performed was nothing short of spectacular—but it had been driven by emotion, and that was where the trouble lay.

“What happened?” James ventured carefully, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Did you lose control? That was some seriously strong magic.”

He wanted Remus to reassure him, to confirm that it was all an accident. But deep down, James understood that what Remus had done required not just power, but a level of precision and intent.

“It was incredible!” Sirius interjected suddenly, his eyes gleaming with unrestrained satisfaction. “Snivellus will think twice before messing with us again!”

“But…” James frowned, troubled. “We didn’t actually mean to hurt him, did we?”

“He’s fine,” Sirius dismissed with a wave of his hand. “He was just putting on a show to get us in trouble.”

“Will we get in trouble?” Peter asked, his voice trembling slightly as he fidgeted nervously. “We didn’t all do it, did we? It was only…”

Sirius gave him a sharp thump on the back of the head. “You dolt,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “We’re Marauders. All for one and one for all.”

“Whatever that means,” Peter muttered, rubbing his head and sulking off to his bed.

“I did it,” Remus said morosely, still fixated on the floor. “You lot shouldn’t get in trouble.”

“It was half my idea!” Sirius protested, his voice rising. “I did the research! Don’t worry, Lupin. I bet he’s fine.”

But Remus remained slumped, his gaze fixed on the ground. “If he is, it’s no thanks to me.” He finally met James’s eyes, his amber ones filled with an intensity that made James's heart sink. “I did mean to hurt him.”

James held his gaze, nodding slightly. Despite what Remus had said, the depth of regret in his eyes spoke volumes. That was what mattered to James.

The knock on the door was a welcome distraction, breaking the heavy silence. It was Frank Longbottom, looking grave.

“You four are to come to McGonagall’s office, now,” he instructed.

James's stomach lurched. What if Snape had been seriously hurt? He thought anxiously. We didn’t mean to cause any real harm!

They followed Frank down the stairs and through the common room, where every eye turned to watch them. The silence that followed their departure was deafening, more unsettling than any noise. James kept his eyes firmly on the ground, but he couldn’t help glancing up through the rim of his glasses. Lily’s eyes were still red from crying, and the sight made James feel as though he’d been slapped.

Dumbledore stood beside McGonagall’s desk in her office, his calm, serene presence at odds with the tension in the room. He smiled as they lined up before him.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, his voice warm and welcoming.

“Good evening, Headmaster,” they chorused.

“You may be pleased to know that Mr. Snape is quite well,” Dumbledore continued, his tone almost conversational. “Though I suspect his pride has been rather bruised.”

A wave of relief washed over James. Snape hadn’t been hurt—at least, not seriously. He tried to catch Remus’s eye, but Remus was still staring at the floor, seemingly unable to lift his gaze.

“Mr. Snape seems to believe that you four had a hand in his unfortunate predicament,” Dumbledore went on, his gaze settling on James. “Particularly you, Mr. Potter.”

James opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. He would take the blame if it meant protecting his friends. It was a small price to pay. But before he could utter a word, Remus stepped forward.

“It was me, sir,” Remus said quietly, his voice unwavering. “He said some things earlier, and I was angry. I wanted to teach him a lesson.”

Dumbledore’s pale blue eyes met Remus’s. The old man nodded, evidently satisfied with the explanation.

James felt a swell of pride for his friend. Remus, usually so reserved and cautious, was stepping up to take responsibility. It was clear he cared deeply, even if he didn’t always show it.

“I see. You acted alone?” Dumbledore asked, his voice gentle.

“Yes,” Remus said, pulling out his wand. “Look, I can prove it—”

“No need!” Dumbledore interrupted quickly. “I believe you, Mr. Lupin.”

James wanted to say something to protect Remus, but Sirius beat him to it.

“It wasn’t just him, sir!” Sirius blurted out, his frustration bubbling over. “I researched the spell, learned how to do it. It’s just as much my fault.”

“You mean to say you planned this, Mr. Black?” McGonagall’s voice was sharp as a blade. “Planned an attack on another pupil? Ten points from Gryffindor. Each.”

Sirius hung his head, clearly deflated.

“And detention for all of you, for a month,” McGonagall continued, her tone stern. “I find it very difficult to believe that Mr. Lupin acted entirely alone.”

The four of them lowered their heads, accepting their fates.

“You may go,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I trust you will all take the time to apologise to Mr. Snape.”

As they turned to leave, Sirius made an indignant noise, and James elbowed him sharply.

“Mr. Lupin, just a moment.”

The rest of them left the office, with McGonagall shooing them away, her warning about lengthening their detentions ringing in their ears.

Back in the common room, which had mostly emptied out, the remaining Gryffindors gave them curious looks. Sirius didn’t wait until the door was shut behind them before he exploded.

“That slimy little snitch!” he roared, pacing back and forth in front of his bed. “I could strangle him!”

Peter slumped onto his bed, muttering darkly, “Lupin might beat you to it.”

Sirius froze, his eyes narrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peter, wide-eyed and shrinking under Sirius's glare, stammered, “Nothing! Just… well, he did say he was trying to hurt him, didn’t he?”

“You heard Dumbledore,” Sirius snapped. “Snape’s fine. He was just pretending to get us in trouble.”

James, feeling the need to mediate, spoke up carefully. “We know, mate, but you have to admit, Remus did go a bit… overboard.”

Sirius gaped at his friends, disbelief etched on his face. “Just whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Come on, this isn’t about sides,” James said, trying to keep the peace. “It’s just—"

“Now you’re starting to sound like Evans! Snivellus got exactly what was coming to him!”

“I know!” James ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, “I’m not trying to argue that! Just… Well, d’you think we should be worried? About Remus?”

“Worried?” Sirius crossed his arms, looking exasperated. “He’d never actually hurt anyone!

I know that! I know that Remus, despite his gruff exterior and his explosive temper, is a good person. It’s why I’m friends with him. But sometimes his magic flares up when his emotions run wild.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” James said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I just meant… do you think he’s okay?”

Sirius blinked, taken aback. “Okay?”

“You spent Christmas together,” Peter chimed in. “He seemed alright then, didn’t he?”

Sirius paused, and James watched him closely, noting the thoughtfulness in his eyes. After a moment, Sirius sighed.

“Remus is fine,” he said firmly. “I told you, it wasn’t even his idea. I dragged him into it.” He sank onto his bed, finally looking more at ease.

“Right then,” James clapped his hands together, attempting to dispel the lingering tension. “Aside from all that, it was a bloody brilliant prank, wasn’t it?”

* * *

By the time Remus returned, the tension in their room had dissipated like smoke in a breeze. Peter and Sirius were engrossed in a heated game of chess, while James, in the bathroom brushing his teeth, tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that had settled in his stomach. The door slammed shut with a definitive thud, followed by Sirius’s loud exclamation.

“You’re back! What did Dumbledore want?”

James poked his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush jutting from his mouth like a comical prop. Remus looked distinctly uncomfortable, his movements stiff and awkward.

“Nothing much,” Remus muttered, shuffling to his bed and kicking off his shoes with a grimace. “Just got a lecture about not doing it again.”

“Really?” Sirius pressed, following him over to the bed. “Did he ask how we did it? Did you show him?”

“No, I—he just told me not to repeat it,” Remus said, sounding as if he were forcing the words out. He stood abruptly, turning his back to them as he rummaged for his pyjamas. James shot Sirius a warning glance, picking up on the edge in Remus’s voice.

“Sure…” Sirius replied, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. Remus brushed past James on his way to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him with a touch more force than necessary. When he emerged, he headed straight for bed, drawing the curtains with a snap.

The other boys went to bed soon after, but James found sleep elusive. His mind was plagued with troubling thoughts—the image of Snape, pale and sprawled on the floor, Remus gripping his wand with white-knuckled intensity, Lily’s tear-filled eyes. It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps approaching.

They’d both learned the Silencing Charm the week before Christmas after they’d accidentally woken Peter. Sirius, always resourceful, cast the charm as he climbed into James’s bed, and James sat up immediately, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes.

“Hiya.”

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

Sirius hesitated before asking, “Do you think Remus is mad at me?”

James blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“I mean, he seemed a bit off, didn’t he?” Sirius chewed on his lip nervously. “Do you reckon he’s annoyed with me? Since I sort of, well, convinced him to go along with the spell? I’m wondering if he blames me for getting him into trouble.”

James thought about Remus’s dismissive attitude, the way he’d slammed the door, and his eyes filled with regret. “Nah,” he said after a moment, shaking his head. “I think he’s just feeling guilty.”

“What, about Snivellus?” Sirius’s tone was sceptical.

“Yeah. He seemed pretty torn up about it earlier. I reckon he’s blaming himself.”

Sirius snorted. “Well, that’s daft. Snape didn’t even get hurt.”

James yawned and shrugged. “If you’re really worried, why not talk to him tomorrow?”

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, you’re right… Maybe I’ll have a word with him.”

McGonagall had been unyielding about their detentions, even going so far as to separate them. Sirius was tasked with scrubbing cauldrons in the dungeons, Peter with polishing trophies in the awards room, and James with reconfiguring every Astronomy telescope in the tower. Remus drew the worst straw of all: mucking out the Owlery. To make it even less pleasant, they weren’t allowed to use their wands, and each night they had to start all over again.

“Cruel and unusual punishment, that’s what it is,” Peter grumbled at the end of the first week, collapsing into bed, filthy and exhausted.

“Don’t whinge,” Sirius grumbled back, “I’d love to be polishing trophies. Who knows what I’ve caught scraping out crusty potions from those wretched cauldrons.”

James simply groaned, removing his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes.

As the days wore on, Remus grew increasingly withdrawn. He started avoiding the Marauders, retreating into his own shell much like he had before they became friends. The difference now was that he usually had a book clutched in his hands. He seemed to spend all his spare time either reading or buried in homework.

Every night, after they had finished their detentions and homework, Remus would draw the curtains around his bed, the soft glow of his wand casting eerie shadows as he hunched over a book. His newfound dedication to his studies paid off—he started pulling ahead in classes, quickly becoming one of the top students. James was genuinely pleased for him; Remus’s growing confidence in his abilities was a sight to behold. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of missing his friend. Remus didn’t even ask for help with his essays anymore.

Remus’s mysterious visits to Madam Pomfrey’s office became a regular occurrence, but he always returned before curfew, which was unusual. The other Marauders couldn’t help but ask where he’d been every evening as they prepped for bed.

“Homework,” Remus would shrug, or sometimes “Detention,” though he hadn’t had another detention since the prank.

They persistently tried to include Remus in their schemes, but he turned down every invitation. Nevertheless, they continued with their plans. When they weren’t in classes or detention, they spent their time plotting pranks or exploring the castle under James’s Invisibility Cloak. Sirius had taken it upon himself to catalogue every hidden passage they found, and James eagerly joined him—rumour had it there was a monster lurking somewhere in the castle, which sounded fantastically intriguing.

Peter, too, was always keen for their nocturnal adventures, whispering excitedly about Dungbombs and colour-changing toffees as they huddled under the cloak to sneak out at night.

James had thought that nothing could ever tear them apart once they became the Marauders. It infuriated him that Severus Snape of all people seemed to have managed it in a single evening. Despite their best efforts to include Remus, he remained aloof, as if he had re-erected the walls that had once separated him from them. James tried to act as if nothing had changed, but he could only imagine how desperate his eyes must have looked every time he glanced at Remus. Although Remus was always polite and joined them for meals, his presence was distant, like a ghost flickering just out of reach.

* * *

As January drew to a close, James found himself in yet another detention. This time, however, it didn’t seem quite as dreadful. Professor Flitwick had assigned him the rather less daunting task of organising and polishing the Quidditch brooms.

So, on this chilly evening, the Quidditch supply shed—tucked away at the edge of the pitch—became James’s temporary refuge. Armed with a pile of polishing cloths, he set to work with a surprising sense of calm. As he meticulously polished each broom, aligning them in neat rows, the rhythmic swish of the cloth and the orderly arrangement of the brooms provided a soothing distraction from his usual whirlwind of thoughts.

While wrestling with a particularly stubborn Cleansweep, the door to the shed creaked open. James glanced up, expecting yet another student sentenced to detention, but his eyebrows shot up in surprise when Marlene McKinnon walked in, broom in hand. There was a brief, awkward pause before Marlene offered a tentative smile.

“Hey, Potter. Fancy seeing you here,” she said, her tone friendly.

“Marley!” James exclaimed with a playful smirk, using the nickname he’d heard her father call her. “Are you here to join the polishing party?”

Marlene, slightly taken aback, blushed but managed a small smile. “Just finished practising.”

“You like flying?” James asked, intrigued. He’d seen her skills during their flying lessons and had to admit she was probably the best in the class (after himself, of course), even outshining Sirius in some aspects. But he hadn’t realised her interest went beyond the lessons.

Marlene nodded. “Kind of runs in the family. I want to try out for the team next year.”

“Me too!” James grinned widely. “I’m hoping to be a Chaser.”

“Beater,” Marlene replied with a hint of determination.

There was a brief silence, and James found himself fidgeting with the bristles of the broom. He wasn’t usually at a loss for words, but he wasn’t quite used to having a one-on-one conversation with a girl like this. Fortunately, Marlene broke the silence.

“Do you want help?” she asked, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

James blinked in surprise. “Um… Sure, but technically this is my detention. Flitwick’s idea.”

Marlene shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better to do. Plus, I quite enjoy taking care of brooms. It’s oddly relaxing.”

James chuckled, flashing her a charismatic grin. “Well, lucky me. You can tackle the Comet Twos over there. They’ve got a mind of their own, those.”

Marlene eyed the brooms with a sceptical look. “Mind of their own, or are you just afraid to admit you can’t control them?”

James laughed, finding her response refreshingly candid. “A bit of both, I suppose. But don’t worry, McKinnon. I’m a certified broom whisperer.”

As Marlene joined him in the polishing endeavour, a light-hearted banter unfolded. James, ever the showman, spun exaggerated tales of his Quidditch prowess, claiming that even the brooms bowed to him in gratitude. Marlene, though initially reserved, began to warm up, revealing a sharp wit and an easy humour.

“Watch out, Potter,” Marlene teased with a twinkle in her eye. “I’ve heard even the Nimbus 1000s are plotting against you.”

James clutched his chest in mock offence. “Oh, you wound me, Marley. The Nimbus 1000s adore me. We share a special bond, you know?”

Marlene rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her amused grin. “Special bond? More like they’re trying to escape your overconfident clutches.”

Their banter flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and camaraderie. James, who often felt the need to be the centre of attention, found it refreshing to be with Marlene. She didn’t seem to care for his usual exuberance and had a quiet way of seeing life that was oddly grounding.

As they took a break, sitting amidst the brooms, catching their breaths, Marlene broached a topic James had been avoiding since it happened—the Rain Cloud Incident.

“James, do you think soaking Snape was the best idea?” Marlene asked cautiously.

James sighed, guilt clouding his expression. Despite his efforts to avoid the topic, he felt a surprising lack of judgement from Marlene. It was as if all the words he’d been trying to suppress since the incident simply spilled out. “Honestly, no. It got out of hand. We never meant for it to go that far.”

Marlene nodded thoughtfully. “Lily talks about it a lot. She thinks you’re a bit self-absorbed, cocky, and that you don’t care who you hurt as long as you get a laugh.”

James winced, running a hand through his hair. “I get why she’d think that, but it’s not really who I am, you know? Sometimes I just… I get carried away.” He was confident, he was an attention seeker, but he’d never want to hurt anyone. The idea that Lily saw him in such a negative light felt like a sharp jab.

Marlene looked at him with a knowing gaze. “I don’t think you’re that person, James. Not entirely. I’ve seen you with your friends, with other students, with professors. There’s another side of you—kind and genuine. You’ve got an ego, for sure, but also a heart to match it.”

Feeling suddenly vulnerable, James attempted to deflect with a half-hearted grin. “Well, you know, I’ve got an image to maintain.”

Marlene, however, wasn’t buying it. “Maybe you could show a different side sometimes. People might appreciate it even more.” She nudged his arm playfully. “I know I’m starting to.”

The sincerity in Marlene’s words struck a chord with James. For the first time, someone wasn’t just accepting his louder, brasher side but encouraging him to embrace the softer, kinder aspects of himself. It felt unfamiliar, and though he wasn’t sure others would accept it as easily, he was glad that Marlene did. He found himself developing a newfound appreciation for her—usually, he aimed for the stars, but perhaps he needed someone to ground him now and then, to let him rest on the grass for a bit.

Chapter Text

"Great to have you back, Lupin," Sirius grinned, yanking back the Invisibility Cloak as they slipped into the (previously locked) Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"What d’you mean?" Remus asked, peering up from below as James climbed a rickety ladder in the corner of the room. Their target was the cage of pixies perched on the highest shelf—a treasure Sirius had spotted earlier that week during class. "I haven’t been anywhere."

"Oh, come off it, mate," Peter piped up, holding the ladder steady for James. "You’ve been avoiding us like we’ve all got dragon pox." Peter’s bluntness often came in handy, allowing him to ask the questions James wouldn't, for fear of upsetting someone.

"I haven’t," Remus said defensively, his brow furrowing. "Just been busy, you know—studying and stuff."

"Well, I hope you're over that phase now," James called down with a chuckle, carefully descending the ladder while clutching the large cage with both hands. "I’d really appreciate it if you stopped working so hard—it’s making me look bad, and I’m not used to this much competition."

"Oh, do one, Potter," Sirius scoffed, rummaging through some of the desks with a look of intense concentration. James refused to admit it out loud, but Sirius was his biggest rival in classes, often edging him out for top marks, not that he’d ever admit it.

Remus had decided to join them for this prank, and James couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at having the full group back together. It had been a while since they’d pulled a proper prank as a quartet, and James had missed it more than he’d let on. Sure, he could play the studious role when necessary, but causing mischief was where he truly shined. A life without it just felt... dull.

Remus crouched down to peer into the cage at the little blue pixies, clearly eager to change the subject. "How are we going to get them into the Great Hall?" The creatures were currently fast asleep, curled up at the bottom of the cage like tiny, mischievous babies.

"Under the cloak," James replied, spreading it wide so they could all squeeze underneath. "Come on, Sirius," he added with an exaggerated eye roll, glancing at his friend, who was now on his hands and knees under the teacher's desk.

"What are you even looking for?" Peter asked, his voice muffled under the cloak.

"One of the Ravenclaws told me there was a trapdoor under here," Sirius muttered, getting up and brushing the dust off his knees. "Liar."

"This is Black's latest obsession," James explained for Remus’s benefit, pinching the cloak shut over their heads. "He’s determined to find secret doors."

"Hogwarts: A History says there are loads of undiscovered passages!" Sirius shot back defensively. "Like that one you found, Lupin. There are definitely more—I’m going to find at least one before we leave this place."

"There’s also supposed to be a monster hidden somewhere in the castle," James whispered back with mock seriousness as they crept through the dimly lit corridors toward Gryffindor Tower. Peter shivered, either from the chill in the air or the thought of the supposed beast lurking about.

"A risk I’m willing to take," Sirius replied with a grin that James could hear in his voice. "My legacy is far more important."

"Typical," James laughed, shaking his head. Leave it to Sirius to prioritise his eternal glory over not getting eaten by some ancient, hidden creature. But then again, that’s exactly what made him Sirius Black—fearless, reckless, and utterly brilliant. The sort of friend you couldn’t help but follow, even if you did end up in detention (or worse) because of it.

* * *

The next evening at dinner, James was grinning like a madman, trying—quite successfully, if you asked him—not to look as though he was hiding fifty sleeping pixies under the table. Peter, meanwhile, who was surprisingly good at Astronomy, was busy checking over the other Marauders’ star charts. They’d all been assigned to label every star, and James had to admit, it was a mind-numbingly dull task.

Sirius, of course, had spent their Astronomy class earlier in the week scribbling down nonsense, barely paying attention to anything except, perhaps, how many times he could get the professor to raise an eyebrow at him. His homework was in a sorry state, and Peter was frowning at it, quill poised as if it might magically improve.

“Honestly, you’d think you’d at least get your own bloody star right…” Peter muttered, crossing something out with a sigh. 

Sirius just laughed, completely unbothered. “What can I say? I’m hopeless.”

“You’ve got your own star?” Remus asked, looking up from his plate. James shot him a sympathetic grin. He wasn’t much for Astronomy either—the only thing he knew about space was that the sun rose every morning, which was really all that mattered.

“Sirius,” Peter replied, exasperated, as if they’d covered this a thousand times. “Come on, Lupin, we’ve been over this. It’s the brightest star in the sky. The dog star.” He gave a long-suffering sigh, but James could see a glint of pride in Peter’s eyes. It wasn’t often he got to teach one of them something instead of the other way around. He glanced down at Remus’s homework, shaking his head. “Yep, you’ve missed it too.”

Remus just shrugged. “I just thought it was his name.”

“The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black has always been a bit arsey with its naming conventions,” Sirius mused, clearly enjoying the attention. “Half of us have astronomical names—there’s Bellatrix, of course; my dad’s Orion, my brother’s Regulus... Mum’s not a star, but I reckon she’s an asteroid—pretty apt if you’ve ever seen her in a bad mood. Then there’s good old Uncle Alphard, Uncle Cygnus... Andromeda’s named after an entire galaxy.”

“Wizards are so weird,” Remus sighed, shaking his head in that resigned way of his that made James want to ruffle his hair.

“Remus,” James sniggered, leaning closer. “You do know that Lupus is a constellation too, don’t you? The wolf.”

“The what?!” Remus yelped, nearly choking on his dinner. James reached out, lightly patting his head, his grin fading slightly at the sudden look of panic in Remus’s eyes. Remus had these moments sometimes—where fear flashed across his face, raw and unfiltered, and James never quite knew what to do about it. He’d seen the same reaction when Snape’s sweets had caused fur to sprout from their arms and now, again, at the mention of the wolf constellation. James couldn’t put his finger on the connection, but he wished he could, if only to help his friend somehow.

Sirius, ever the master of deflection, slapped Remus hard on the back, shifting the conversation. “If you’re done telling us how thick we are, Pete, can we get on with releasing the you-know-whats? My darling cousins have just started eating. I’d call that perfect timing…”

The others nodded eagerly, and James gave the cage a sharp kick to rouse the pixies before whipping off the Invisibility Cloak and muttering a quick Unlocking Charm. The effect was immediate and spectacular—an explosion of bright blue chaos as the pixies shot out like miniature comets.

James had been buzzing with anticipation to see the pixies in action, and now he could see why they were considered such pests. The little creatures zoomed out from under the table, scattering in every direction and chattering in their high-pitched voices as they wreaked havoc. They dove into soup tureens, snatched forks out of students’ hands and brandished them like tridents, tore up homework, and yanked at hair and robes with wild abandon.

“Quick!” James ducked back under the table, where they all crouched beneath the Invisibility Cloak, watching the mayhem unfold around them.

“Brilliant!” Sirius whispered, his grin practically splitting his face as he watched the chaos they’d unleashed.

“C’mon,” Remus urged, nudging them forward. Though James was keen to stay and admire their handiwork, he knew Remus had the right idea. The plan was to observe for a bit, then slip out of the hall before they could be pinned as the culprits.

It took some awkward shuffling to navigate out from under the table without being trampled by fleeing students or dive-bombed by enraged pixies, but they managed. Thanks to the Invisibility Cloak, they were invisible and unbothered—though the same couldn’t be said for anyone else in the hall.

Girls were screaming, boys were shouting, and everyone was ducking for cover from the blue streaks whizzing around the room. The pixies had no problem turning the entire Great Hall upside down.

“OH YES!” Sirius suddenly crowed, unable to contain himself.

James followed his gaze and saw Bellatrix, her face twisted in rage as she shrieked at the top of her lungs. Her wild hair was being tugged violently by several pixies, while another was waving her own wand at her, zapping out little bursts of blue lightning. 

“Get off me! You filthy—you disgusting—you—AAARGH!” she wailed, while her sister cowered under the table, clutching her wand for dear life.

The chaos escalated when Peeves the Poltergeist joined in, gleefully adding to the bedlam as he zipped about the hall, directing the pixies like a mad conductor. He lifted tablecloths, cackling maniacally, “Under here, piskies! Lots of ickle-firsties down here!”

The Marauders, barely able to stifle their laughter, took that as their cue to flee. They bolted from the room just as McGonagall’s shrill voice rang out, “Petrificus Totalus!”

“She’s definitely going to know it was us,” Peter panted as they hurried back to Gryffindor Tower, still under the cloak.

“Nah,” James replied with a casual wave of his hand. “She’ll blame it on the Prewetts—they always pull off big stuff like this. Something to aspire to, really.” 

Sirius snickered, and James couldn’t help but grin. All in all, it had been a job well done, and if McGonagall did suspect them, well… that was half the fun, wasn’t it?

* * *

“Please,” Sirius whined, his voice taking on that irritatingly persistent tone that made it clear he wasn’t going to drop this any time soon.

Remus shook his head, exasperated. “No.”

“Pleeeeease!” Sirius drew out the word, like a child begging for a sweet.

“No!” Remus repeated, trying to sound firm but sounding more like he was pleading for mercy.

“Why not?”

“It would just feel… weird! I don’t want you to.”

“But it’ll be fun! I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“Ha.”

The conversation had dragged on like this for the past three corridors, and James was starting to lose patience. Remus had resorted to walking faster, as if he could escape the discussion entirely, while James trailed behind them, exchanging weary looks with Peter. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and decided to intervene.

“Leave Lupin alone, will you?” James said, trying to inject some authority into his voice, even though he knew from experience it rarely worked on Sirius.

“I will not! This is important!” Sirius shot back, his restless energy making him extra obnoxious. James knew this mood well—Sirius on a mission was relentless, and usually, James was the only one who could reel him in, at least a little.

The whole thing had started after a long, mind-numbing study session in the library, where they’d spent the afternoon working on zodiac charts for Astronomy revision. Exams were still ages away, but James had wanted to get a head start, and he knew Sirius had only agreed so he could beat him, as usual. Peter tagged along because he always did, and Remus had been there too, though he seemed less icy than he had been recently. James wasn’t sure what had caused Remus to come out of his shell, but he wasn’t about to question it. He was just glad to have his friend back and was determined to keep an eye on him so he wouldn’t retreat again.

They’d been chatting about star signs when it came out that Remus was a Pisces, and Sirius, ever the quick thinker, had immediately realised that meant Remus’s birthday was coming up. That’s when the pleading had started.

“It’s obviously not that important to Remus,” James insisted, hoping to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. “Do something for my birthday instead if you have to. It’s not long after.”

“You’ll get your turn,” Sirius dismissed him with a wave, “but first—Lupin.”

“I really don’t care, Sirius,” Remus sighed as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. “Don’t make a fuss.”

“But it’s your birthday!” Sirius protested, sounding genuinely hurt. “We should make a fuss.”

James understood where Sirius was coming from. Birthdays were a big deal—time to show how much you cared about someone. James’s parents had always made a big thing of his birthdays, every single year better than the last. That was why he’d been so determined to celebrate Sirius’s birthday properly, to give him that same feeling of being cared for. And now, Sirius wanted to do the same for Remus. But it was clear Remus didn’t want it forced on him.

“Why does it matter so much?!” Remus huffed, clambering through the portrait hole. James could sense the irritation rising in him, the kind that usually surfaced when Sirius was being particularly stubborn.

James knew, though, that Sirius only got like this when he really cared. Sirius was the type who wouldn’t give you a second thought if you didn’t matter to him, but if he did care? Merlin, he’d move mountains for you, bring you all the stars in the sky if you asked him to. That was why James could never stay upset with Sirius when he got in these moods—it was all coming from a good place, even if it was a bit much.

As James clambered through the portrait hole last, he noticed Sirius rubbing his arm, looking oddly vulnerable for someone usually so brash.

“You lot all did stuff for my birthday and… well, it was really nice. I never much looked forward to it before but… well, it was great, wasn’t it?”

James shot Remus a knowing glance. Surely he could see now that this wasn’t about Sirius craving attention—it was about making Remus happy. It was something they could do for him, something small but meaningful, especially when they all knew Remus didn’t have much. It was just a little thing, but sometimes the little things meant the most.

Remus hesitated, his gaze softening as he took in Sirius’s earnest expression. “Oh… okay, fine. But not a big party or anything, just the Marauders, yeah?”

“Right.” Sirius grinned, his whole face lighting up in a way that made James’s heart swell. Of course, James didn’t believe for a second that Sirius wouldn’t turn it into something bigger, but seeing the way Sirius’s eyes sparkled, James decided to let it go. Who was he to spoil that kind of happiness?

Chapter Text

Remus’s twelfth birthday fell on a Friday that year. Normally, Fridays after lessons meant one thing: James dragging the lot of them off to watch Gryffindor Quidditch practice, no matter how much Remus protested or how loudly Sirius complained. Remus would usually sit on the sidelines with a book, only half-watching as the others got overly excited about the game. But this time, Sirius had managed to convince James to skip practice, arguing (with all the persistence of a dog with a bone) that Remus might want to do something different on his birthday. James had found the idea incomprehensible—what could possibly be more fun than Quidditch? But if it made Remus happy, he supposed he could endure it. Just this once.

When the big day finally arrived, James and Sirius woke at the crack of dawn, immediately conspiring to drag Peter out of bed. Peter grumbled, half-asleep, as they waited for the sun to creep up over the horizon. Then, with mischievous grins plastered on their faces, they crowded around Remus’s bed. Sirius held up three fingers, mouthing a silent countdown.

One… two… three…

“Happy birthday, Lupin!” they shouted in unison, leaping onto his bed with all the subtlety of a herd of Hippogriffs. Remus jolted awake, his eyes wide with shock, before he took in their grinning faces. He yawned, rubbing his eyes, and gave them a sleepy smile.

“Cheers, lads,” he mumbled, clearly still waking up.

At breakfast, the spectacle continued. James and Sirius marched ahead of Remus and Peter, parting the crowds of students like Moses at the Red Sea, loudly proclaiming their arrival.

“Out of the way, please!”

“Birthday boy coming through!”

“Move along, nothing to see here!”

By the time they reached their usual seats, Remus was positively mortified, his face flushed with embarrassment. But James only grinned wider, finding his friend’s discomfort endlessly amusing. They made a grand show of serving Remus his breakfast, as if he were royalty. Peter poured his tea with the utmost seriousness, James piled his plate high with all his favourites, and Sirius carefully buttered his toast with an exaggerated flourish.

“Do you have to?” Remus groaned, burying his face in his hands as if he could disappear altogether.

“Absolutely,” James said with mock gravity.

“Definitely,” Peter chimed in, nodding earnestly.

“Unquestionably,” Sirius finished, with a dramatic wave of his knife.

Remus shook his head, cheeks burning, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him with a small, reluctant smile. When he finally finished his breakfast—no easy feat, considering the sheer amount of food they’d heaped onto his plate—the others exchanged devious glances and stood up as one, still grinning like idiots.

“What now?” Remus asked, his eyes darting around nervously. He tried to stand, but James and Peter quickly placed firm hands on his shoulders, keeping him in his seat. Sirius, ever the theatrical one, produced a pitch pipe from his robes with a flourish, blowing a long, piercing note. Remus squeezed his eyes shut, clearly wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“Haaaaaaaaaahhh-ppy birthday to you!” The three of them belted out, completely disregarding any notion of harmony. “Haaaah-ppy birthday to youuu! Haaaaah-ppy birthday dear Reeeeeeeeee-mus!”

Their enthusiastic (and decidedly off-key) serenade quickly caught the attention of the rest of the hall, and soon, students from all Houses were joining in, much to Remus’s horror. He covered his head with his hands, as if that might somehow shield him from the embarrassment.

“Haaaaah-ppy birthday toooooo youuuuuu!”

James, never one to miss an opportunity for drama, leapt onto his chair, thrusting his fist into the air. “Hip hip!”

“Hooray!” the Gryffindors chorused back, the whole table now caught up in the spectacle.

James stepped down, a satisfied grin on his face, as the table erupted into laughter. Remus, though still groaning, couldn’t quite hide the smile that tugged at his lips.

“At least that’s over and done with,” Remus muttered, though his tone was more resigned than hopeful. Peter patted him on the back with a look of deep sympathy.

“Sorry, mate,” he said, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “But they’re planning to do the same at lunch and dinner.”

* * *

Although James firmly believed the Marauders could achieve anything they put their minds to, there was one obstacle even they couldn’t overcome: the unwavering schedule of Hogwarts. Classes couldn’t be cancelled, no matter how hard they tried, and so they found themselves trudging down to the dungeons for their final lesson of the week—Potions. James couldn’t help the sour taste that filled his mouth as they descended the cold stone steps, a feeling only made worse by the sight of Snape glaring at them with those beady eyes, his greasy hair hanging in curtains around his sallow face. James noticed with a hint of satisfaction that Snape didn’t say anything—he’d been keeping his distance since the Rain Prank, which made James think that perhaps, just perhaps, Snivellus had finally learned his lesson.

As they entered the Potions classroom, Lily caught Remus’s eye and flashed him a smile, wishing him a happy birthday. James’s heart gave a little lurch. He wondered if she’d remember to wish him the same on his birthday. He could only hope. But before he could dwell on that thought, he and Sirius were already halfway through their attempt to convince Professor Slughorn to forego any homework in honour of the ‘special occasion.’

“Come on, Professor,” Sirius wheedled, grinning his most charming grin, “it’s not every day Lupin turns twelve!”

Slughorn chuckled, shaking his head. “Nice try, Black, but I’m afraid even birthdays don’t exempt you from your studies.”

Despite their failure to escape homework, the Marauders more than made up for it at dinner. Their loudest, most exuberant rendition of “Happy Birthday” yet echoed through the Great Hall, drawing the attention of every student and teacher. Even Dumbledore joined in, conducting the entire school with his long, bony fingers until everyone was bellowing the song at the top of their lungs. Sirius presented Remus with a card signed by all of Gryffindor, and Remus grinned broadly as he read each name, clearly touched by the gesture.

After dinner, they retreated to the common room, where Sirius lugged down his heavy record player—a contraption James still struggled to remember the name of—and put on Electric Warrior for what felt like the hundredth time since Christmas. Sirius had played it so often that even James, who usually had no patience for Muggle music, had started to recognise the tunes.

“I was dancing when I was twelve…” crooned the singer, and James glanced over at Remus, who was quietly humming along, a small smile on his face.

At some point during the evening, a cake appeared—lavishly decorated with red and gold Gryffindor icing and topped with twelve pink candles. Remus was encouraged to make a wish before cutting into it, revealing four different flavours inside: chocolate, lemon drizzle, Victoria sponge, and coffee and walnut.

“Like your toast!” Sirius explained giddily, his eyes shining with pride. “Thought you might get bored if it was all one flavour.”

Remus stared at the cake, then at Sirius, clearly moved. “Wow… thanks, Sirius!”

“So, what do you want to do for the rest of the evening?” James asked, feigning innocence. “It’s still light enough if you did want to go and watch the—”

“He doesn’t, James!” Sirius interrupted, exasperated. “Bloody hell, you’re going to have to start developing some other interests, mate. You’re getting boring.”

“I don’t mind if you want to go and watch the Quidditch practice,” Remus said hurriedly, ever the peacemaker. “You’ve already done plenty for me today. Three songs in one day—what more could a twelve-year-old ask for?”

James shook his head, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt Sirius’s words had stirred. “No, Sirius is right. It’s your birthday, Remus. We’ll do something you like doing.”

An awkward silence settled over them, and James felt a flicker of unease. What did Remus like doing? It was strange, really—James could easily list off his own favourite pastimes, as well as Sirius’s and Peter’s. But when it came to Remus, the boy was a bit of a mystery. Whenever they weren’t all together, Remus usually had his nose buried in a book or was off somewhere, doing who knows what. James suddenly realised with a pang that he didn’t actually know what Remus got up to in his spare time. What kind of friend was he if he couldn’t even name one of Remus’s hobbies?

“Reading?” Peter suggested, hesitantly. “You read a lot.”

“Do I?!” Remus raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised. James found it odd that Remus hadn’t noticed it himself—it was true. Since Christmas, Remus had been devouring their set texts and could often be found in the library with a stack of borrowed books. But to James, reading didn’t sound particularly thrilling, especially when they could be doing something more exciting.

“Oh yeah, great,” James said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Happy birthday, Lupin. Let’s start a book club.”

Sirius sniggered, while Peter looked slightly annoyed. “Well, I don’t know! Other than reading, you seem to really like detention, Remus.”

Remus laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, lads. I reckon I must be really boring.”

“What about when you disappear?” Sirius asked suddenly, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp.

Remus stiffened, his face flushing. “What do you mean? I told you, I’ve been sick—I go to the Hospital Wing.” The words tumbled out in a rush, and James frowned slightly. There it was again, that odd defensiveness whenever Remus talked about his absences. Something didn’t add up, but James couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“No, not then—sometimes you go off after lessons or while we’re watching Quidditch,” Sirius persisted. “What are you doing?”

Remus shifted uncomfortably, clearly not keen on the direction the conversation had taken. “I just sort of… walk around,” he mumbled, avoiding their gazes.

“Where, though?” Peter pressed, leaning forward. “In the grounds?”

“Everywhere,” Remus shrugged, sounding a bit embarrassed. “I just like to look about. So I know where stuff is.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-worn map, the one they’d all received at the beginning of the year. “It’s stupid, but I started adding things to the map. Whenever I see something interesting, I put it in.”

He handed the map to James, who unfolded it carefully. Peter and Sirius huddled closer, peering over his shoulder. 

James was stunned. The map was incredibly detailed, far beyond anything the school had given them. Each portrait was labelled, staircases were colour-coded, and the parchment was covered in symbols and notes, some of which James couldn’t decipher but assumed indicated secret doors or hidden passageways. The sheer amount of work Remus had put into this map was mind-boggling. James realised with a jolt that Remus had been quietly brilliant, all this time. The rest of them might be loud and showy, but Remus—Remus had been doing something truly impressive, right under their noses.

“You’ve added all the portraits… and labelled them and everything,” Sirius said, sounding awestruck.

“My spelling’s rubbish,” Remus muttered, blushing furiously.

James frowned thoughtfully, noticing a mark on one of the staircases. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

“One of the trick steps,” Remus explained, his voice gaining confidence as he spoke about his creation. “That’s the one you can sink into. And that one,” he pointed to another mark, “is the one that vanishes. The staircases with arrows are the ones that move. I colour-coded them so you can see where they end up.”

“Merlin!” Peter breathed, clearly impressed. “Do you have any idea how much time this would save me? I swear I get trapped on the wrong corridor twice a week because of those flipping stairs.”

“And me,” James agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

“Sod getting to lessons on time!” Sirius burst out, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Do you realise the possibilities of this map? The pranks we could pull with this!”

A smile spread across James’s face as he imagined the mischief they could cause. He could see Peter was already grinning too, his mind racing with ideas. But before they could get carried away, Remus’s expression shuttered, and he snatched the map back, folding it quickly.

“It’s not finished yet,” Remus said, his voice cautious. “There’s loads to do. I wanted to add some spells to it, once I figure out how.”

James reached out and placed a hand on Remus’s neck, gently massaging the tense muscles. He didn’t want Remus to feel embarrassed about the map—he wanted him to know that they all thought it was brilliant. They could see the hard work Remus had put into it, and James wanted to show his friend that he was here, supporting him, even if Remus didn’t always say much.

“What sort of spells?” Sirius asked eagerly, leaning forward.

Remus hesitated, and James continued to rub his neck, trying to convey through his touch that it was okay. They were his friends—they weren’t going to laugh or think less of him. They were all in this together, after all.

“Just some improvements,” Remus murmured, sounding almost hesitant, as if he was bracing himself for a bit of teasing. “You’ll think it’s silly.”

“No, we won’t,” Peter piped up earnestly, his round face full of sincerity. “We can help!”

“I s’pose… it’s my map, though.” Remus trailed off, looking down at the parchment as if he was worried they might not take it seriously—or worse, that they’d take it over entirely.

James felt a flicker of understanding. So, that was it. Remus was worried that his brilliant idea might be overshadowed by the rest of them, maybe even nicked right out from under him. James knew how loud and overwhelming they could all be, especially in a group, and it must’ve been tough for someone like Remus, who was quieter, more thoughtful, to make himself heard. But James was absolutely certain that none of the others—brilliant as they all were—could’ve pulled off something like this without him.

“Of course it’s yours,” James said, flashing his most reassuring smile. “Like the cloak is mine, right? But in the service of mischief…”

“It’s the Marauders’!” Sirius chimed in, practically bouncing on his feet as he leaned forward, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“The Marauder’s Map,” Remus repeated softly, almost as if testing the words out. James thought it sounded bloody fantastic—exactly the sort of thing that would go down in Hogwarts legend.

“It’s still yours, Lupin! We’ll put your name first and everything!” Sirius added, looking deadly serious about it, which only made James suppress a grin.

“Not sure if we want our names on it…” Peter muttered, glancing around nervously. Typical Peter, always worrying about getting caught.

“Our nicknames, then,” Sirius suggested, rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“We don’t have nicknames,” Remus pointed out, ever the realist. “Well, I s’pose I sort of do, but I really don’t want ‘Loony Lupin’ written on it.”

That set them off. The lot of them burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the empty corridor. Even Remus couldn’t help but grin, the tension easing from his shoulders. When the laughter died down, Remus hesitantly unfolded the map, showing them a section on the third floor that he hadn’t had time to catalogue yet.

The rest of the evening was spent under James’s Invisibility Cloak, wandering the halls like they owned the place. Technically, they weren’t even out past curfew, but James and Sirius were in complete agreement: you could never be too careful on a Marauders Mission. 

Tonight’s mission was simple but effective: Dungbombs. Sirius, always prepared, had five of them ready to go. They had a grand time sneaking up behind unsuspecting couples who were far too wrapped up in each other to notice, or slipping them into the pockets of older students hurrying off to the library. James reckoned he hadn’t laughed that hard in ages.

As they walked, Remus showed them everything he’d managed to uncover so far, pointing out hidden passages, shortcuts, and even a few rooms James had never noticed before. James listened, feeling both impressed and slightly confused—how on earth had Remus found all of this? Some of the places Remus pointed out, James had walked past a hundred times and never seen anything. And when Remus mentioned his plan to put some kind of tracking spell on Mrs. Norris, Filch’s blasted cat, they were all over the idea.

“Why stop there?” Sirius whispered eagerly, eyes shining with mischief. “Why not track everyone?”

“Everyone?” James echoed, his heart speeding up with excitement. The possibilities were endless—imagine the power of knowing exactly where everyone was at any given moment.

“Yeah, then we’d know when anyone was coming, we could get away with anything.” James’s eyes lit up at the thought—Sirius was right, with the map like that, there’d be nothing they couldn’t do. No more narrow escapes or risky gambles; they’d be unstoppable.

“I dunno,” Remus replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. James looked over at him, frowning slightly. Why was Remus so hesitant? He seemed almost… worried. Was he afraid the map might get them into trouble? Or worse, get him into trouble for creating it? James felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. He’d never let that happen. Remus might be the brains behind the map, but James would make damn sure no one found out about it—not even Dumbledore.

Sirius and Peter, however, were already on board, pointing out how useful it would be to see where Dumbledore was, or keep an eye on Snape. James was sure that whatever was bothering Remus, they’d be able to convince him. After all, they were the Marauders—there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do when they put their minds to it. And with Remus’s brilliance and their determination, they’d find the right spell, no question about it. The map would be perfect, and more importantly, it would be theirs—all of theirs.

Chapter Text

James’s birthday arrived with the usual flurry of excitement, but this year, it seemed to be met with a different sort of enthusiasm. Their peers might have grown weary of the Marauders’ relentless antics, but no one begrudged James his birthday celebrations. He had managed to make quite a few acquaintances among the first-years, not quite friends but close enough, and even some of the older students had warmed to him. It might have had something to do with his openness and willingness to chat with anyone who would listen. With his infectious cheer and wicked sense of humour, James had become a bit of a fixture, and his knack for magic didn’t hurt either. Seeing people smile and laugh with him filled James with a swelling pride—he’d never be alone as long as he could keep people’s attention on him.

The attention was a new sensation for James. He’d spent most of his childhood rather isolated, cut off from other kids his age. While he basked in the spotlight, he was always quick to set it aside to help someone in need. The attention was gratifying, but nothing beat the feeling of seeing someone’s genuine, grateful smile. So, despite having already had a birthday party earlier in the month, they still managed to make the Great Hall ring with their spirited renditions of ‘Happy Birthday.’ Sirius, never one to miss a chance for a grand gesture, had also arranged an hour on the Quidditch pitch with some of the current Gryffindor team members. James was over the moon, feeling like he might as well have been invited to play in the League itself.

As March drew to a close, time seemed to accelerate. The days grew longer, and spring burst into the castle, filling it with sunlight and fresh air after the long, dreary winter. With exams looming, James threw himself into revision with the same fervour he applied to everything. This dedication meant that Sirius had to buckle down too, despite his previously minimal interest in homework. With their competitive spirits, Sirius turned revision into a full-blown competition, making bets about who would score the highest marks. James thrived under this pressure; he often performed better when challenged. Remus joined their sessions, looking serene and almost pleased to be studying—he seemed to take joy in learning, as if grades and deadlines were mere afterthoughts.

Peter, on the other hand, was feeling the strain. With his sister having run off to Muggle college—a scandalous move in the wizarding world—Peter felt the weight of his family’s expectations more acutely. Growing up, James had seen how much Peter’s parents valued social standing. The Pettigrews placed a high value on blood status, despite lacking the influence to back it up. They might never say it outright, but their emphasis on pure-blood pride was clear.

“How much do we need to pass the year?” Peter would ask, his round face showing desperation, at least four times a day.

“Peter, calm down,” James would soothe, “You’re going to be fine. You know all the theory backwards now; it’s just a matter of putting it into practice.”

James kept a close eye on Peter, noting the nervous ticks and worried glances. He slid into the seat next to Peter, casting a glance at Sirius and Remus, who were deep in their own hushed conversation. Leaning in, James dropped his voice to a comforting murmur.

“Hey, Pete, how’s it going?” James asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

Peter looked up from his notes, managing a tired smile. “Oh, you know, the usual. Trying not to let the exams crush me.”

James chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, you’ve got the Marauders on your side. We’ll tackle these exams like we tackle our pranks.”

Peter managed a weak laugh, but the worry remained in his eyes. Sensing something more was bothering him, James nudged him gently with his elbow. “Come on, spill it. What’s on your mind?”

Peter hesitated, then sighed deeply. “It’s my family, James. Since Philly left, they’re determined for us to join the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and they’re counting on me to keep up the family legacy. It’s important to them.”

James raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback. “The Sacred Twenty-Eight? That’s a bit… old-fashioned, isn’t it?”

Peter nodded, unease clear in his expression. “Yeah, but you know my family. They’re all about pure-blood pride and status. It’s like they want me to be some sort of wizarding poster child for the Pettigrews.”

James leaned back, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “Well, you’re not just a poster child, Pete. You’re Peter Pettigrew, our friend. That’s what really matters. Your family’s expectations don’t define you.”

Peter offered a half-smile. “I know, James, but it’s hard not to feel the pressure.”

James nudged him playfully. “Lucky for you, you’ve got the best mate in the world to help you through. How about we tackle this studying together? I’ll even throw in a few jokes to keep things light.”

Peter chuckled. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, Pete! Friends help each other out, especially during tough times. And besides, I’ve got some top-notch jokes saved up for just the right moment,” James declared with a mischievous glint in his eye.

* * * 

Exams were not exactly top of James’s worry list. He was confident he’d excel—after all, he had already mastered all the practical spells they needed to know before the revision even began. The theoretical stuff was a different kettle of fish. James found it hard to sit still for long periods, but the fierce competition with Sirius kept him focused, and soon he knew the theories like the back of his hand. As a result, it was becoming increasingly clear that his first year at Hogwarts was drawing to a close, which meant summer vacation was just around the corner.

Students buzzed with talk of holiday plans and family reunions, and James felt a tangle of emotions. On one hand, he was thrilled to be going home—to see his parents, sleep in his own bed, and enjoy his mum’s cooking. Summer was his favourite season: the long, warm days, flying in the backyard, and best of all, no homework.

But there was a cloud hovering over his sunshine, and it came in the shape of two boys: one with amber eyes and one with raven hair.

Remus would have to return to his Muggle home, where magic was strictly off-limits until they turned seventeen. Communication would be a challenge, and James knew the place sounded dreadful. And Sirius? Well, Sirius wasn’t looking forward to the summer at all. He grew uncharacteristically quiet whenever the topic came up, his usual cheer dimming as his face seemed to lose its colour. James had caught a glimpse of Sirius's home life when he met his father, and he was determined to support Sirius in any way he could.

James did his best to be understanding, always ready with a comforting word on the nights Sirius crept into his bed, unable to sleep. Sometimes, Sirius would break down completely, tears streaming down his face. James would stroke his hair and gently massage his neck, doing everything he could to show Sirius that he didn’t need to hide anything from him. James vowed to always be there for Sirius, to be his shoulder to cry on, no matter what. He would be strong for Sirius, no matter what it took.

One night, when Sirius revealed the scars on his calves—scars he’d also seen on his younger brother’s legs over Christmas—James felt a righteous fury ignite within him. 

“That’s monstrous,” he whispered, eyes blazing with anger.

A lump formed in his throat as tears threatened to spill. He bit his cheek to hold them back; he needed to remain calm for Sirius. The love James felt for his friend was boundless, but from that moment on, he loathed Sirius’s mother. A mother was supposed to be the epitome of love and affection; they were meant to give their children endless amounts of it. The fact that Sirius’s mother had inflicted this kind of suffering on her own child was nothing short of evil in James's eyes.

“She thinks it’s what’s best for us,” Sirius said, his voice heavy with resignation. James gave him a sceptical look, prompting Sirius to continue.

“It’s not—obviously, I know it’s wrong. But it’s not like I can stop her. I just thought I’d be able to protect Reg from it. He never did anything to deserve it—”

“Sirius,” James interrupted, locking eyes with his friend. “Nobody deserves that. You don’t deserve it. Do you understand me?”

Sirius opened his mouth but no words came out.

“You shouldn’t have to go back there,” James said firmly. “It isn’t right.” A sudden idea struck him—he could fix this, he could protect Sirius.

“Stay with me for the summer!” he blurted out.

Sirius blinked, wiping his damp cheeks. “What?”

“You can stay with me! I’m sure my parents would love to have you.” James was beaming with excitement at the thought of the solution.

“I can’t,” Sirius said quietly. “My family would never allow it.”

James began to argue, but Sirius shook his head.

“Just—leave it, alright? Let’s talk about something else.”

James was reluctant but acquiesced.

The next day, as they lounged on the big couch in the common room, Peter was in an armchair trying to turn a banana into a slipper. It wasn’t going well. Remus lay on the rug in front of the fireplace, absorbed in a book.

“You know they’ll never let me,” Sirius sighed.

“Cheer up, mate,” James said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. He was unwaveringly confident in his plan and determined to make it work. He just needed to convince Sirius of it.

“They won’t. Bellatrix’s bloody wedding is in June, and I’ll be dragged into all of it.”

“We got an invite to that,” Peter said suddenly, glancing up from his brightly yellow slipper, which still looked unpleasantly squishy. “We’ll probably see you there.”

James’s mind flashed to Orion Black’s face—blood traitor spawn. He had a good guess why his family hadn’t been invited.

“Yeah, great,” Sirius muttered darkly. “If I haven’t been turned into a newt or cursed into a portrait for the summer. They actually did that to Andromeda once. She’s never been the same, hates wizard paintings now.”

“After the wedding,” James said, steering the conversation away from the Black family, “we’ll figure something out. I’ll break you out of there if I have to, I swear.”

Sirius managed a weak smile. James grinned back, determined to radiate unwavering confidence. He had to give Sirius hope. He was James Potter, after all.

“You too, Lupin,” James said, turning to Remus.

“Hm?” Remus lifted his head, arching his back slightly. James thought he saw him wince as he moved, but his expression quickly settled into a neutral mask.

“You should come and stay over the summer. We’ve got loads of room, and Mum won’t mind.”

“Can’t,” Remus said, shaking his head and looking back at his book. He seemed distracted and tense. James wondered what was troubling him. “Matron won’t allow it. Legal guardian stuff, Muggle law.”

“There’ll be a way around it,” James replied confidently. “Both of you are coming, right? I’ll make it happen.” He wasn’t sure how yet, but he was determined to find a solution. He wasn’t going to let his best friends spend another dreadful summer alone if he could offer them something better.

“I think I’ve done it!” Peter suddenly exclaimed, holding up his bright yellow slipper triumphantly.

“Well done, Pete,” Sirius said, though his voice lacked the usual enthusiasm James would have shown. “Try it on and see if it fits.”

Peter leaned down to fit the slipper to his foot. As he did, James noticed Remus moving out of the corner of his eye. Remus straightened into a sitting position, then suddenly jumped to his feet, his eyes wide with alarm.

“Eurgh!” Peter yelped, drawing James’s attention back. Peter’s bare foot was now covered in banana slime. James burst out laughing, his glasses falling askew.

“He was joking, Pete! You’ve got to stop doing things just because we tell you to.”

Remus was still standing, a peculiar look on his face. “You okay, Lupin?” Sirius asked, turning to him. Remus hesitated, then the attention shifted to him.

“Yeah, just… think I might go for a walk.”

“Where? It’s almost curfew,” Sirius asked. After a moment, his eyes sparkled with curiosity. “What are you planning?”

“No, nothing… I just fancied…”

“We’ll come!” James jumped up, eager to join. “I’ll get the cloak.”

“No!” Remus shouted.

They all froze, even Peter, who was halfway through picking banana strings from between his toes.

“I…” Remus stammered. “I don’t feel well. I just want to go to Madam Pomfrey, that’s all.”

James’s face softened with concern. Remus had been spending more time in the Hospital Wing lately. They’d wondered aloud about his frequent disappearances, sometimes joking about him being contagious or making excuses to skip lessons. But behind the teasing, James was genuinely worried. What if Remus’s absences were due to something serious? He took a calming breath and forced a reassuring smile.

“All right, mate,” James said gently, “Calm down. Want us to come with you anyway?”

“I’ll go,” Sirius said quickly, standing and guiding Remus by the elbow before he could protest. They headed toward the portrait hole.

As they left, James felt a gnawing sense of unease. He quickly retrieved his Invisibility Cloak and followed them, determined to get to the bottom of it.

Just as he was fumbling with the cloak outside the common room, Lily appeared in the corridor. Startled, James tried to hide the cloak behind his back.

“Evans!” he greeted, his tone a blend of surprise and charm. “What are you doing here?”

Her green eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you up to, Potter? You look like you’re hiding something.”

James, maintaining his composure, flashed her a lopsided grin. “Hiding? Me? Never. Just enjoying the quiet corridor.”

Lily crossed her arms, unimpressed. “I don’t buy it, Potter. What are you hiding?”

“Hiding? Nothing! You’re imagining things,” James insisted. “Why would I be hiding anything from you?”

Lily’s scepticism remained, her annoyance clear. “Considering your track record, I’d say you’re always up to something. Now, get back inside. It’s almost curfew, and you shouldn’t be out here alone.”

James chuckled, clearly relishing their banter. “Aww, Evans, you don’t want me to get into trouble, do you? You’re worried about me, aren’t you?”

She huffed, crossing her arms with an air of exasperation. “I couldn’t care less about what happens to you, Potter. But if you get caught, we’re losing a heap of House points. Just stay out of trouble, okay?”

James flashed her a wide, mischievous grin and gave her a mock salute. “Your wish is my command, Evans.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed further. “You’re hiding something, Potter. I don’t trust that grin of yours.”

Determined to uncover the truth, Lily grabbed James by the arm and started dragging him back towards the common room entrance. 

James, realising he was cornered, tried to keep the mood light. “Alright, alright, Evans. No need to get all serious on me.”

But as he looked down at where their arms touched, his heart raced with a frantic rhythm, like a thousand fireworks exploding simultaneously. Behind his easy smile, James felt a surge of anxiety and anticipation.

Chapter Text

James would never admit it, but he had a secret fondness for the Hogwarts exam period. The two-week break from lessons was like a breath of fresh air, and while the rest of the school seemed to be running about like headless chickens, James was in his element. The absence of classes meant boundless opportunity for mischief, and his ingenuity was at an all-time high.

Most of their peers were fraught with anxiety, including poor Peter, who spent hours hunched over his notes in the library, his face a picture of despair. Sirius shared James’s unshakable confidence; their weeks of preparation had set them up nicely. With revision behind them, Sirius had easily convinced James to turn their attention to other pursuits. They delved into the delightful world of flameless firecrackers and took great pleasure in making unsuspecting students’ book bags vanish. They’d duck behind the shelves, stifling their laughter as their victims scrambled about, searching in vain. One particularly memorable incident involved a fifth-year Slytherin who leapt out of his seat so quickly that he tripped over his invisible bag and landed flat on his face. This spectacle had sent James and Sirius into fits of hysterical laughter, earning them both a stern ejection from Madam Pince.

Peter wasn’t the only one climbing the walls. Lily Evans had taken to ambushing students in the library and common rooms, demanding they quiz her on the 18th Century Goblin Riots. Meanwhile, Marlene McKinnon and her friend Mary MacDonald were constantly bursting into fits of giggles, nerves getting the better of them.

Remus, on the other hand, was more relaxed than James had ever seen him. But rather than joining in the pranking, he preferred to spend his days lounging around the castle with a book or wandering about with his map. James wished Remus would join in on the fun, but at the end of the day, he still had Sirius, and that was more than enough.

The older students had little sympathy for their younger counterparts. Frank Longbottom handed out more detentions in the final week than he had all year and even threatened to deduct fifty points from Gryffindor if James and Sirius didn’t cease their levitating inkwells in the common room. They got off relatively lightly—Bellatrix Black had cursed half the Slytherins one evening for talking too loudly while she studied for her N.E.W.T.s. The unfortunate Slytherins were mute for three days, and Madam Pomfrey had to grow their tongues back.

The exams themselves were a breeze for James. Charms was first, and enchanting a coconut to dance an Irish jig was child’s play. James, Sirius, and Remus all executed the task flawlessly. Peter’s coconut, however, refused to budge at first and then went completely haywire, spinning off the desk and smashing itself on the flagstones. James had to suppress his laughter—he didn’t want Peter to feel any more embarrassed than he already did.

Transfiguration was nearly as smooth, though a touch more challenging. Their task was to turn a stag beetle into a pepper shaker. Sirius completed it in minutes, barely concealing his pride as McGonagall remarked it was the best example of small-scale transfiguration she’d ever seen from a first-year. Remus’s shaker wasn’t bad, though it was still shiny and black, whereas Sirius had somehow managed to make his transparent. James attempted porcelain and did well until McGonagall tried to shake some pepper out of it, only for it to sprout wings and fly out the window, eliciting shrieks from Marlene and Mary. Peter’s pepper pot, meanwhile, still had legs and antlers, even after an hour.

Herbology was dull but straightforward, a written exam. History of Magic was similarly unremarkable, though James was surprised to see Remus furiously scribbling away on a third roll of parchment. He was sure their textbook chapter on the Goblin Riots hadn’t been half as long as Remus’s essay. Potions was frustratingly tough; brewing a cure for warts from memory meant that even a minor misstep could ruin the whole potion. James managed alright, but it was one of the few classes where he wasn’t expecting top marks.

Between exams, James and Sirius continued their reign of terror, slipping trick quills into students’ bags, creeping about under the Invisibility Cloak, and deploying the last of their Dungbombs with gusto. They narrowly avoided capture by Filch several times but managed to stay one step ahead.

The weather was warming up nicely, and as June unfolded and the exams wrapped up, the Marauders’ thoughts turned to their final act of mischief.

“It’s got to be big,” James declared decisively as they lounged by the lake. “Our last hurrah.”

“Not our last,” Sirius replied nonchalantly, picking at the grass. “We’ll be back in two months.”

“You lot might be,” Peter said gloomily, “I’m pretty sure I’ve failed everything.”

James waved Peter’s concerns away. It was far too warm and lazy a day to spend reassuring him extensively. They were lounging in their new favourite spot by the lake. Peter was nestled in the shade under a tree, trying to avoid getting sunburnt. James and Sirius had rolled up the sleeves of their white uniform shirts to keep cool, while Remus lay in the sun, robes still on, looking as comfortable as ever. James liked their spot because it was centrally located; when the weather was nice, everyone came to the lake, and their spot provided a clear view of everything—and everyone could see him.

“Have we got any Dungbombs left?” Remus asked, squinting at the sky before closing his eyes and relaxing back with his arms folded behind his head. James reached out, shading his friend’s face with his hand.

“Yeah, a few. But not enough for a grand finale.”

“How grand are we talking?” Remus asked, peeking through his fingers.

“Bigger than Dungbombs,” James said, polishing his glasses absentmindedly. “Big enough so that everyone knows it was us.”

“They’ll know it’s us,” Sirius pointed out, standing up and skipping stones across the lake. He managed to bounce one five times before the giant squid living in the lake reached up a silvery tentacle to bat the stone back towards him, eliciting a broad grin from Sirius.

“And the itching powder was a classic,” Remus murmured, stretching out on the grass.

“Exactly,” Sirius agreed, nodding enthusiastically, “Points for creativity there.”

“And the rain cloud!” Peter chimed in, eager to contribute. The group fell silent. Remus sat up, realising that Peter had brought up an incident they hadn’t discussed since January. Peter bit his lip, suddenly self-conscious.

Sirius shook his head, visibly annoyed, and quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway, the point is, the four of us have accumulated more detentions than the rest of Gryffindor combined this year. What more do you want us to do, James? Sign our work?”

James’s eyes lit up with excitement. “That’s it!”

Sirius was about to skip another stone when James leapt to his feet, grabbing Sirius by the shoulder and making him drop the stone.

“Oi!” Sirius protested, frowning at the interruption. “What’s all this then?”

“That’s it!” James said, nearly bursting with enthusiasm. “We sign our work!”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. Remus squinted at them both. James, in his eagerness, grabbed Remus’s shoulders and shook him gently.

“SIGN OUR WORK,” James repeated. Sirius began to smile as he realised what James was proposing. Remus still looked puzzled, so James explained impatiently, “We put our mark on Hogwarts, literally.”

“Are you talking about defacing school property, Potter?” Sirius asked, arching a dark eyebrow, his face alight with amusement.

“I might just be, Black.” James wiggled his eyebrows, delighted that Sirius understood. They had an unspoken knack for getting each other.

“Well, I say, old man.” Sirius grinned, adopting an exaggeratedly posh accent.

“What do you say, old bean?”

“I say it’s a simply ripping idea.”

“Oh, spiffing!”

“Good show!”

“Rather!”

The two of them dissolved into laughter, collapsing onto the grass in a tangle of arms and legs. Remus and Peter exchanged a knowing look; they never quite joined in on their roughhousing.

While Peter and Remus chatted in the shade, James and Sirius continued their playful wrestling. James, though bigger and arguably stronger, fought under what he called ‘honourable terms.’ Sirius, ever the scrappy fighter, was more than willing to use dirt or a well-placed elbow to his advantage.

Just as Sirius attempted to knock James’s glasses off his face, Peter jumped up, his eyes wide with excitement. “Lads!” he squeaked, “I’ve had an idea!”

James and Sirius stopped immediately. James had Sirius in a headlock, and Sirius’s ankle was poised to trip James. “Are you feeling alright, Pettigrew?” James asked, his curiosity piqued.

“The lawn!” Peter exclaimed, pacing excitedly. “It’s the biggest canvas! It wouldn’t have to be permanent—if we used a quick-grow potion…”

James burst into laughter. Peter could be an absolute genius when he set his mind to it.

* * *

They had two weeks to plan their grand finale—the perfect capstone to their mischievous school year. James and Peter were tasked with hoarding supplies, while Sirius and Remus took on the daunting job of researching the spells they’d need. It was a testament to their resourcefulness; with James wielding the Invisibility Cloak and Peter as a lookout, gathering what they required was a breeze. 

As the Marauders prepped for their final mission, they learned they had all passed their exams—yes, even Peter. James had managed ‘Exceeds Expectations’ across the board, which meant Sirius had bested him in half their subjects, having scored top marks. James did his best to keep his ego in check, even if he hadn’t topped the class like his friends did—Sirius in Transfiguration, and Remus in History of Magic. Lily had aced Charms, but for some reason, that didn’t bruise his pride quite as much.

“Ouch! That was my foot!”

“Sorry!”

“I can’t see a thing.”

“It’s dark out, you muppet.”

“Ouch! That was my foot!”

“Can we take the cloak off now?”

“Yeah, I think so…”

They’d just managed to drag a heavy sack of hydrangea seeds down from the tower. Well, Remus and Peter had. James and Sirius were far too preoccupied with leading the way, dodging between the dim shadows of the castle corridors.

“Right,” James said, finally getting down to business, “Did we agree to write ‘love’ or ‘from’?”

“From,” Peter replied, squinting at the now visible sack.

Sirius sniffed, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “I prefer ‘love.’”

“Aww, ‘course you do, Black,” James said, ruffling his friend’s hair playfully. Sirius ducked and pulled a face, brushing off the gesture. “Love it is, then. C’mon, gentlemen, let’s get cracking!”

It took them an hour to empty the sack of seeds. James was at the forefront of their efforts, while Remus brought up the rear, carefully drizzling quick-grow potion over the trail they left behind.

“Are we sure we’ve spelled everything right?” James scratched his head, strands of hair falling over his eyes, a habitual gesture when he was deep in thought.

“Too late now,” Sirius pointed out, glancing at the sky where rosy pinks were starting to bleed onto the horizon. “We’d better get a move on; the sun’s about to come up.”

“The colour-changing spell, quick!” James barked.

“I already did it,” Remus said, emptying their last bottle of potion. “While the seeds were still in the bag.”

“Good thinking, Lupin!” Sirius clapped him on the shoulder, “Knew you were the logical one.”

“Let’s not head back just yet,” James said, his gaze lingering on the sky. “Look, we can watch the sunrise.”

“Merlin,” Sirius chuckled, “You big sentimental softie.”

But they all stood together, sharing a rare moment of quiet as the sky’s pink hues deepened into orange. The sun rose triumphantly over the lake, casting a golden reflection across the water. The deep orange softened into a lighter yellow, hinting at the approaching blue.

“Next year’s got to be even better, lads,” James grinned, his cheeks warming under the new sun as he threw an arm around Peter and Sirius. Remus stood a little to the side, a serene look on his face.

Returning to the common room, they were more subdued, nearly forgetting to don the Invisibility Cloak again. Back in Gryffindor Tower, James and Peter curled up in their beds, drawing the curtains tight to block out the rising sunlight. James took off his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes from the lack of sleep. He wanted to catch up on some rest before the train journey later. He bet Sirius was cursing his packing now; James could hear his friend rummaging around with characteristic haphazardness.

Remus was awake too. There was a crack in the curtain right by James’s eyes, and he saw Remus perched on the windowsill, gazing down at their prank unfolding in the grass below.

“Looking good!” Sirius said, joining him.

“Still think it should’ve been ‘woz’, not ‘were’,” Remus said, his tone half-serious.

“Bad grammar, Lupin,” Sirius yawned, “I couldn’t live with myself.” He stretched, then flopped onto Remus’s bed, curling up to catch some sleep.

James watched his friend for a while from his bed. Despite his usual exuberance, there were moments when he found solace in the simple act of observing. He took comfort in the unspoken camaraderie that bound the Marauders together. Sometimes, it was enough just to be in the same space as them, soaking in their silent presence. He would miss this during the summer, dreading the inevitable absence of the Marauders.

But for now, he was content with the satisfied exhaustion that followed a successful night’s work. Safe and curled up in the room he had come to cherish, he found comfort in the steady, familiar breaths of his friends. It was a quiet reminder that, for now, he wasn’t alone.

Fifty feet below, the hydrangeas finally bloomed, the gaudy flowers flashing in Gryffindor colours—crimson and gold—blaring out their proudly spelled message:

THE MARAUDERS WERE HERE!

Chapter Text

James Potter was a bloody genius—he knew it, even if it sometimes surprised him. He’d always considered himself the brains behind the Marauders, though if he was being honest, that title probably belonged to Remus. Still, this particular scheme had been brewing in his head since the end of term, and now it was finally coming together. The question was: how could he get Sirius and Remus to spend the summer with him?

Last night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the answer had hit him—a stroke of brilliance in his twelve-year-old life, if he did say so himself. The Blacks would never let Sirius visit the Potters. But then, a wicked little idea had sparked. What if Sirius wasn’t visiting him? The Pettigrews had been allowed to attend Bellatrix’s wedding, which meant the Blacks were at least willing to tolerate them—definitely a step up from how they viewed the Potters. Surely, they’d let Sirius stay with Peter, and it wasn’t necessary for them to know how frequently Peter popped over to James’s place. 

He had the perfect pitch in mind: Sirius could tag along with Peter, who was joining James and his family on their annual beach trip at the end of July. It was a long-standing Potter tradition, one James was keen for Sirius to be a part of. And once Sirius was there, James could argue that he should just stay the whole summer—how could anyone refuse such a reasonable request?

Getting Remus away from the Muggles seemed trickier, but James was confident his mother could handle it. Euphemia Potter always knew what to do and had a way of convincing people to see things her way. James had no doubt she could charm Remus’s guardians into letting him spend the summer at the Potter estate.

That very afternoon, as the midsummer sun bathed the Potter estate in a warm glow, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns, James’s mind buzzed with the thrill of his plan. He made his way to the sunlit sitting room where his mother sat reading, the light catching on her glasses. With a confident knock, he stepped inside, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Hello, Mum,” James greeted casually, though excitement bubbled just beneath the surface. “Got a moment?”

Euphemia looked up from her book, her eyes crinkling with affection at the sight of her son. “Of course, sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”

James cleared his throat, barely containing his grin as he prepared to lay out his proposal. “Mum,” he began, his voice tinged with anticipation, “I’ve been thinking about July—the beach trip. What if Sirius comes with us? He’s stuck at home with his family this summer, and let’s be honest, that sounds like torture. Peter’s already coming, so one more wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Euphemia’s gaze softened, a mix of curiosity and warmth in her eyes. “Sirius? The one with the dark hair and the mischievous smile?”

James chuckled, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s practically my brother, Mum. It’d be brilliant to have him along.”

Euphemia considered this for a moment, a motherly glint in her eye. “And what about Remus? Would he like to join as well?”

James’s grin widened, pleased that his mother was already on the same page. “Exactly! Remus too! He’s part of the gang, after all. He’s stuck in some Muggle boys’ home all summer. He’d have a much better time here with us.”

His mother studied him for a moment, a mix of fondness and concern etched on her face. “James, dear, I don’t mind the idea at all—I want you to have a wonderful summer. But, are Sirius’s parents comfortable with this? I wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

Quick as a flash, James conjured a white lie with the ease of someone who’d been bending the truth since he could talk. “Oh, absolutely, Mum! I’ve spoken to Sirius, and his parents are fine with it.”

Euphemia raised an eyebrow, a hint of scepticism in her gaze. “Are you sure, James?”

James met her eyes with the most innocent grin he could muster. “Mum, trust me. Sirius’s parents are completely on board. I promise.”

Euphemia sighed, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her expression. “Very well, James. I’ll trust you on this. If they’re comfortable with it, then I’m happy to welcome him. And we can arrange for Remus to join as well. I’ll write a letter to his matron to make sure everything is in order. But, James, I want you to promise me that if anything feels off or if your friends need anything, you’ll let me know. I want you all to have a safe and enjoyable summer.”

Grinning triumphantly, James wrapped his arms around his mother in a tight hug. “I promise, Mum! You’re the best! This summer is going to be epic.”

As Euphemia returned to her book, James dashed up the stairs towards his bedroom, his heart racing with excitement. The prospect of having his friends with him for almost the entire summer filled him with an uncontainable joy, and he couldn’t wait to share the news with Sirius, Peter, and Remus. This was going to be the best summer of his life.

* * *

Late July hung heavy with anticipation as James paced about, waiting for Sirius and Peter to arrive for their trip to the beach. The usual excitement of summer had been somewhat dampened by the worry gnawing at the back of his mind—Remus hadn't responded to any of his letters, and James couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Normally, his summer days were spent out on the lawn with Peter, practising Quidditch, and counting the hours until Sirius could join them. But today, he was very much alone. Peter and his family had left earlier in the day for the Lestrange Manor, off to attend Bellatrix’s wedding—an event to which the Potters were, rather obviously, not invited. The Blacks would never allow Sirius to visit the Potters, but they were fine with him breathing the same air as the Pettigrews. James had tried not to dwell on the fact that neither he nor his family was wanted there, but it still stung a little.

Needing a distraction, he decided to accompany his mother to St. Mungo’s, where she’d been summoned on an emergency call. Euphemia Potter was an experienced Healer, often called upon to assist in critical situations. Today was no different, and James figured that seeing her in action might take his mind off the uneasy feeling that had settled in his chest.

The sterile scent of potions and antiseptic greeted them as they stepped into the bustling entrance of St. Mungo’s. The atmosphere was charged with urgency, the sort that made James’s skin prickle with unease. Pale walls echoed with hushed conversations and hurried footsteps as Healers moved purposefully through the corridors.

“Stay close, James,” Euphemia instructed, her Healer robes flowing behind her as she navigated through the maze of hallways. James, trying to act cool, shoved his hands in his pockets and followed, though his curiosity was piqued by the intensity of the place.

They arrived at a curtained-off area, where the pale face of a young witch lay on a bed, her eyes wide with fear and pain. Euphemia immediately set to work, her wand dancing through the air with practiced precision as she began assessing the injuries.

“What happened?” James asked, his concern genuine as he watched his mother work.

Euphemia glanced at him briefly, her expression serious. “Werewolf attack. It’s a vicious curse, James. Leaves scars that run deeper than just the physical.”

A cold shiver ran down James’s spine. A werewolf attack. He’d read about them in books, but seeing the aftermath in person was something else entirely. It made him think of all those times Remus had shown up at school looking worse for wear after one of his mysterious ‘illnesses.’

Euphemia carefully peeled back the layers of bandage, revealing a gruesome wound on the young witch’s shoulder—the unmistakable mark of a werewolf bite. The skin around it was inflamed, the bite itself seeming to pulse with a dark, malevolent energy.

James winced at the sight, his stomach churning with sympathy for the girl. He knew that this was no ordinary injury. It was a curse, one that would follow her for the rest of her life.

As his mother continued her work, James lingered near the curtain, his ears pricking up at the snippets of conversation between his mother and another Healer. The words painted a grim picture, one that hit far too close to home.

“Can you do anything for her?” he asked, unable to keep the worry out of his voice.

“We can ease her pain and start the process of healing,” Euphemia replied, her focus never wavering. “But some wounds run deeper than our spells can reach.”

The other Healer, who had a weary look about him, nodded solemnly. “The transformations are agonising. Victims say it feels like every bone in their body is breaking, like their head is about to explode… The scars—physical and emotional—never really heal. It’s a life-altering curse.”

James felt a lump forming in his throat. “The transformations… they’re that bad?”

The Healer nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “And the psychological toll is immense. When they turn, they forget who they are. They’d attack their own friends if given the chance. It’s the fear of losing control, of hurting someone, that haunts them.”

James tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. His thoughts drifted to Remus, to all those nights spent in the Hospital Wing, looking ill but never quite sick in the normal sense. Then there were the scars—Remus had always been a bit too quick to hide them. 

The sun had set outside the hospital, and the last rays of sunlight had disappeared when James caught sight of the full moon outside the window. 

And suddenly, it all clicked into place.

The moon. 

Remus’s wide eyes, filled with a sort of quiet terror, as he rushed off to the Hospital Wing.

Remus’s bed, empty, curtains still drawn back, the bedclothes barely rumpled.

James remembered a conversation where Remus had brushed off his questions, saying, “I’ve been sick, mate. Just the Hospital Wing again, you know.”

“Remus,” James muttered under his breath, the name barely audible as the pieces fell into place. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and sorrow washing over him as he realised what this all meant. 

Remus was a werewolf. 

He felt his legs wobble, his hand grabbing onto the curtain rack for support. His breath came out in a shaky gasp as he stared at the witch on the bed in front of him. She had the same kind of scars that he’d seen on Remus, faint silvery lines that told a story of pain and survival.

“James, baby,” his mother’s voice cut through his haze of panic. 

He finally managed to tear his gaze away from the young witch and look at his mother. “Are you alright, honey?” she asked, her voice gentle but laced with concern.

He nodded, but the motion felt mechanical, like his head was moving on its own. He was cold, numb, his thoughts racing faster than he could keep up with them. He tried to pull himself together, to think logically, but logic had never been his strong suit. His heart always led the way, and right now, it was leading him straight into the deep end.

With a shaky breath, he approached the other Healer. “Excuse me, sir. Is there… is there any way to help someone with this curse?”

The Healer looked at him with a mix of sympathy and resignation. “It’s a tough condition to live with, young man. There are ways to manage it, potions that help with the transformations, but a cure? That remains out of reach.”

The journey home was silent, James’s thoughts a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and determination. The familiar crackle of the Floo Network felt distant, like he was moving through a dream, the green flames casting eerie shadows across his face.

That night, James retreated to his father’s office. He huddled over the desk, surrounded by open books and crumpled parchment filled with scribbled notes. Moon phases, transformation cycles, lycanthropy symptoms—it all pointed to one undeniable truth. 

Remus Lupin was a werewolf. 

The weight of the discovery pressed down on him, leaving him breathless. Questions flooded his mind. How had it happened? Did Remus feel the way the Healer had described every month? Did he remember it all? Had he ever hurt anyone?

Even as the questions swirled, James knew he couldn’t ask Remus any of them. If Remus was keeping this a secret—and he obviously was—then it wasn’t something James could just bring up over breakfast. He felt a pang of hurt that Remus hadn’t told him, but he understood why. Werewolves were feared, reviled, treated as monsters. But how could Remus be a monster? He was one of the kindest, most genuine people James knew. 

The door creaked open, and James looked up to see his father standing in the doorway, a concerned look on his face. “James, what are you doing up at this hour?”

Startled, James quickly shut one of the dusty volumes in front of him. “Just… studying,” he mumbled, hoping his father wouldn’t pry.

Fleamont raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of the scattered books. “Studying? For what, an exam in Defence Against the Dark Arts?”

James forced a chuckle, trying to play it off. “Yeah, something like that.”

His father stepped closer, glancing at the titles. “Werewolves, eh? Bit dark for a late-night read.”

James hesitated before taking a deep breath. “Hypothetically, Dad… what would you do if you found out your best friend is… different?”

Fleamont’s expression softened as he leaned against the doorframe. “Different? In what way?”

“Like… not entirely human,” James said, avoiding his father’s eyes. 

Fleamont’s eyes widened slightly with understanding. “You mean, if they were a werewolf?”

James nodded, his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure if he wanted reassurance or a reality check.

Fleamont sighed, the lines on his face deepening with thought. “James, being a werewolf doesn’t change who someone is. It’s a condition they live with, not something they chose. Your friend would still be the same person you’ve known all along.”

“But what if they're dangerous?” James pressed, the uncertainty gnawing at him like a Niffler with a bag of Galleons.

Fleamont frowned thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “Being a werewolf doesn’t make someone dangerous, James. It’s the circumstances and the way society treats them that can turn things sour. But if this person’s your friend, they deserve your understanding, not your fear.”

James felt a bit of the tension in his shoulders ease. His dad always had a way of making things sound so simple. “What if he doesn’t want to tell me, though?” James asked, his voice a bit smaller, as if he was afraid of the answer.

Fleamont gave a gentle sigh, the sort of sigh that made James feel like a little kid again, back when his biggest worry was whether or not he’d get a broomstick for Christmas. “James, you’ve got that charm about you. You’ve always been able to get people to open up, even when they didn’t want to. But sometimes, people need to think they’re doing it on their own terms. Give him space. Let him know you’re there, but don’t push. Some people feel like they’ve got to carry the weight of the world on their own.”

James nodded, letting the words sink in. His dad was right, of course. Remus wasn’t the type to share things easily, but he wasn’t alone—not with James, Sirius, and Peter around. They’d stick by him, no matter what.

“But… what if it changes everything? What if it makes things… weird?” James asked, the last word coming out in a rush, like he was embarrassed to even be worried about it.

Fleamont’s eyes softened, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “James, true friendship isn’t about everything staying the same. It’s about growing together, even when things get difficult. If your friend trusts you enough to share this part of himself, it’s because he knows you can handle it. Don’t let fear of change get in the way of that.”

James sat back, the knot in his stomach finally beginning to loosen. His dad was right, as usual. If Remus ever decided to tell them, it would be because he trusted them. And that was worth more than keeping things ‘normal.’ Besides, since when had their group of friends ever been normal?

After Fleamont left the room, James’s thoughts were still buzzing, but the panic had eased. He felt a strange mix of apprehension and determination, a sort of ‘right, let’s get on with it’ mindset that always hit him before a big Quidditch match. This was something they’d face together, when the time was right.

For a brief moment, he considered telling Sirius and Peter about his discovery, but he quickly dismissed the idea. It wasn’t his secret to share, and besides, it was summer. They were meant to be having fun, not worrying about things that might not even be true. No, he’d keep this to himself for now. They could deal with it when they were all back at Hogwarts, where things were always easier to face together.

James stood up, glancing around his dad’s study, which suddenly felt too small, too quiet. He grabbed a random book from the shelf, not really caring what it was, and headed upstairs. There’d be plenty of time to think about this later. For now, he’d lose himself in a story, maybe one with dragons or daring rescues. Something to remind him that even when things seemed dark, there was always a way to make them right again.

Because that’s what he and his friends did—they made things right, together.

* * * 

The rest of the summer was like something out of a dream, the kind where you wake up with a smile on your face and wish you could dive right back in. It wasn’t long after the Pettigrews' place started feeling a bit cramped that the idea was floated—well, it was more like James practically begged—why not have Sirius stay at the Potters’? They were neighbours, after all, and it wasn’t as if anyone would notice the difference. 

Having Sirius at home was like finding the missing piece to a puzzle you didn’t even know was incomplete. Euphemia welcomed Sirius as if he were her own flesh and blood, and Fleamont, well, he couldn’t have been more thrilled. He took to Sirius instantly, dragging him into all sorts of mischief that had James grinning from ear to ear. James found himself wishing, in those quiet moments when the house was filled with laughter, that Sirius could be his real brother, officially.

Days blurred into one another, filled with endless hours of Quidditch. James was dead set on making the Gryffindor team this year, and if that meant practising until he could barely lift his arms, so be it. Peter turned up every day to play Keeper, doing his best despite his usual clumsiness, and Sirius, with that wild grin of his, seemed to have found his calling as a Beater. He even started talking about trying out for the team himself, and James could picture it now—Sirius Black, the most reckless Beater Gryffindor had ever seen. They’d be unstoppable.

July brought a trip to the beach, a place where the world seemed to stretch out endlessly before them. The Potters had a summer home by the shore, and the boys spent their days swimming in the salty waves, their laughter carried away by the wind. They built sand sculptures with Fleamont, who would then enchant them to move about like miniature versions of themselves. It was perfect, or as close to perfect as anything could be. Evenings were for lounging around, sunburnt and happy, planning pranks and eating far too many ice creams. Euphemia always made sure they had just enough freedom to explore, but not so much that they found themselves in serious trouble—though they did flirt with the line now and then.

Still, there was a shadow that hung over those golden days. Remus. He was conspicuously absent, and no matter how many letters they sent, they received nothing in return. James couldn’t help the pang of worry that hit him every time he thought about it. It was strange, wasn’t it? Remus was always quiet, but never like this. They sent letter after letter, hoping for a reply, a sign that their friend was okay, but the silence stretched on.

It was near the end of summer when James noticed something odd. Sirius was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding a folded bit of parchment like it was the most precious thing in the world. His fingers traced the edges, smoothing out invisible creases. James watched him from the doorway, waiting for Sirius to say something, to share whatever was in that letter. But Sirius kept it to himself, and James didn’t press. If Sirius wanted to keep it private, there had to be a reason, right? After all, they were best friends—Sirius would tell him when he was ready. At least, that’s what James told himself.

Despite that little snag, though, it had been an amazing summer. The kind of summer that you tuck away in your heart, to pull out and remember when things aren’t so bright. James threw himself into every moment, trying his best to forget about the niggling worries—about Remus, about the werewolf revelation that still lingered at the back of his mind. Instead, he focused on Quidditch, on pranks, and on the sound of Sirius and Peter’s laughter echoing through the Potters’ house late into the night. And for a while, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Oh, very superstitious

Wash your face and hands

Rid me of the problem

Do all that you can

Keep me in a daydream

Keep me going strong

You don't want to save me

Sad is my song

The platform was alive with the usual chaos of the start of term—students milling about, parents fussing, trunks being heaved onto the train, and the occasional owl hooting from within its cage. James stood there, a bit taller than last year, but with that same mop of unruly hair and a grin that hadn’t changed a bit. His parents flanked him, their presence solid and reassuring in the midst of all the noise. Euphemia, ever the doting mother, was fussing over his collar, smoothing it down even though it didn’t really need it.

“It’s going to be a brilliant year, James,” she said with a smile that was both tender and teasing. “Just remember to keep your mischief in check.”

James couldn’t help but smirk. “I’ll do my best, Mum, but you know, can’t make any promises. Hogwarts might get too boring without a little bit of excitement.”

Fleamont, who’d been standing with his hands in his pockets, clapped James on the back. “Second year at Hogwarts—make it count, son. But try not to turn the place upside down, eh?”

James rolled his eyes, though there was a twinkle of mischief there too. “No promises, Dad. Can’t let the castle get too comfortable, can we?”

He turned to join Peter, who was saying his goodbyes nearby, but something caught his eye—Lily Evans, standing a little way off with her family. Her parents looked friendly enough, smiling and chatting, but her sister… well, she had a sour look on her face, like she’d swallowed something particularly nasty. James couldn’t quite understand how someone as bright and full of life as Lily could be related to someone like that. It was like looking at two completely different paintings—one full of colour and light, the other all dark and dreary.

He was so caught up in watching her that he forgot where he was for a moment, until Lily’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Potter, do you mind? It’s not polite to stare.”

James grinned, completely unfazed by her irritation. “Just admiring the scenery, Evans. It’s not every day one gets to witness your radiant presence.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Save the flattery for someone who cares, Potter.”

He leaned casually against a nearby pillar, still grinning. “Come on, Evans, can’t you appreciate a sincere compliment when you hear one?”

“Sincere? From you? I highly doubt that.” She shot him a sceptical look, clearly not buying it.

James shrugged, adopting a mock-offended expression. “Funny you should say that, because humour is one of my many virtues.”

“Virtues? Potter, you have virtues?”

“Plenty,” he said with a wink. “You just need to take the time to discover them.”

Lily huffed, clearly unimpressed. “I think I’ll pass.”

Just then, Marlene McKinnon wandered over, having clearly overheard the exchange, and threw James a sly grin. “Trouble in paradise, Potter?”

James winked back at her. “Just the usual. Evans here doesn’t seem to appreciate my unparalleled charm.”

Marlene laughed. “Unparalleled, huh? I’ve definitely heard better.”

Lily, grateful for the backup, shot James a triumphant look. “Finally, someone with sense.”

“Just trying to bring a little excitement to your life, Evans,” James called after her as she linked arms with Marlene and headed off towards the train.

“Trust me, Potter, my life is exciting enough without your added flair,” Lily replied, not even bothering to turn around.

Euphemia and Fleamont, who had been watching the whole exchange with amused smiles, approached James. Fleamont chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Friend of yours, James?”

James tried for nonchalance, though he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. “Just a fellow Hogwarts student, Dad. No big deal.”

Euphemia patted his cheek affectionately. “James, dear, I didn’t know you had such an appreciation for the arts.”

“Or perhaps he’s realised that Hogwarts isn’t the only place to find magic,” Fleamont added with a laugh.

James rolled his eyes, trying to deflect their teasing. “Dad, it’s not what you think. I was just—”

Euphemia interrupted, smiling warmly. “Well, we’ll leave you to your scholarly pursuits. Don’t forget to write, and say hello to your friends for us.”

“Oi, James! Are you coming?” Peter had finished his goodbyes and was waving him over.

James hugged his parents quickly, spotting a familiar mop of black hair disappearing into the train over their shoulders. “Pete, come on! I see Sirius! He just got on.” Grabbing Peter by the wrist, he dashed towards the train, excitement bubbling up inside him.

They clambered on board just behind the three girls, brushing past them in their eagerness. Lily shot James a disapproving look, muttering something to her friends about how insufferable he was. James couldn’t resist calling back, “Don’t worry, Evans! I’m sure you’ll learn to love my charm eventually!”

Lily scoffed, shaking her head, as she and the others made their way down the corridor. James barely noticed, his attention already shifting as Peter tugged at his sleeve.

“Oi, James! Over here! I found Sirius, but he’s not alone.”

Intrigued, James peered into the compartment Peter had pointed out. Sure enough, there was Sirius, lounging casually as ever, but beside him sat another boy—a bit younger, with the same striking Black family features. The full lips, the sharp cheekbones that could probably cut glass, and those intense blue eyes. It had to be the younger brother Sirius had spent endless nights talking about.

“Must be Regulus,” James murmured, then pushed the door open, a broad grin on his face. “Thought we saw you sneak in here!” he laughed, strolling inside. Peter followed with a cheerful, “Hi, Sirius!”

“Long time no see!” Sirius grinned back, his usual easygoing self. “Where’s Remus?”

“No idea,” James said, hoisting his trunk onto the luggage rack with a grunt. “We didn’t—oh, hang on, I think I see him out there!” Abandoning his trunk half on, half off the rack, he threw open the window and leaned out, waving madly.

“Oi, baldy!” he shouted, spotting Remus among the crowd. The moment he saw him, any serious thoughts from the summer were pushed aside, and he just saw one of his best mates.

Remus grinned up at him, waving back, though his hand went to his head self-consciously. His hair had grown out a bit at Hogwarts, but now it was back to being shaved close. James pulled his head back inside, eyes bright with excitement. “Got his head shaved again. D’you reckon it’s a Muggle thing?”

Sirius and Peter shrugged, though there wasn’t much time to speculate. The door slid open, and Remus stepped in, his usual calm self.

“Lupin!” Peter jumped up, looking unsure of what to do with himself once he was on his feet. They weren’t really the hugging sort, not unless James initiated it, so Peter settled for an awkward pat on the arm, which Remus returned with a small smile.

“Hiya, lads. How’s it been?”

“We should be asking you!” James laughed, giving him a playful punch on the arm. “Not one owl all summer!”

James noticed Remus shooting a quick, almost nervous glance at Sirius, but Sirius either didn’t notice or pretended not to. James made a mental note of it, but kept the easy grin on his face. Everyone had their secrets, he supposed, even among best friends.

“You know I’m practically a Muggle over the holidays,” Remus replied, shrugging. “Couldn’t even get into my trunk to do homework—they locked it up.”

James was about to respond when he heard a quiet noise of disgust from the corner. It was Regulus, who had been sitting silently, his lips curled in disdain. James frowned, matching Remus’s reaction. He had assumed the younger boy was just shy, but apparently, there was more to it.

“This is Reg,” Sirius said, almost offhandedly. “Say hello, Reggie.”

“It’s Regulus,” the boy sniffed, his voice dripping with indignation. Sirius looked like he was holding back a retort, settling instead for a raised eyebrow.

“My darling brother.”

“Hi, Regulus,” James said, offering a friendly smile and extending his hand. “I’m James.”

“Potter.” Regulus looked at his hand like it was something unpleasant, making no move to shake it.

Sirius didn’t hesitate—he cuffed Regulus around the head. “Stop being such a little prick,” he snapped. “These are my friends.”

“I didn’t want to sit here,” Regulus muttered, sulking. “You made me.”

“Oh, go on, piss off then. Dunno why I bothered.”

James recognized the anger simmering beneath Sirius’s calm facade. Regulus seemed just as upset, shooting his brother a cold glare before storming out and slamming the door behind him.

“Wow, he really has that Black family charm,” James remarked with a grin, though there was a slight edge to it. He was trying to keep things light, but it wasn’t easy when Sirius was looking as though he might explode or implode at any moment. Sirius just shook his head, despairingly, and propped his foot up on the bench opposite, his elbow leaning against the window pane as if he needed the support. The whistle of the train pierced through the hum of chatter outside, and James felt the familiar lurch as the Hogwarts Express began to pull away from the station.

“Shouldn’t have expected anything else,” Sirius muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. His voice was tinged with a bitterness that made James wince. “He’s totally brainwashed. And annoyed with me. I shouldn’t have been gone all summer.”

James glanced at Peter, who was busy fiddling with the latch on his trunk, clearly trying to keep out of what was fast becoming an uncomfortable conversation. He turned his attention back to Sirius, his expression softening.

“Reckon he’ll be in Slytherin, then?” James asked, trying to keep the question as neutral as possible. He knew how much Sirius hated talking about his family, especially his brother. The others hadn’t heard Sirius talk about Regulus in the same way James had, during those long nights in the dorm when it was just the two of them and the room was cloaked in darkness. Sirius could be brutally honest in the dark.

“Probably,” Sirius grumbled, his jaw clenching as he stared out the window, watching the familiar landscape blur into motion. “He knows I won’t talk to him if he is. Rather he was in Hufflepuff.”

James wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It wasn’t like they had the privacy of drawn bed curtains to shield Sirius from the others. Not that Sirius would appreciate being pitied anyway. So, James did what he did best—he redirected the conversation, trying to lighten the mood.

“Peter, you packed enough food for an army there?” James asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he nudged Peter, who had just pulled out a bag of sweets from his trunk. Peter looked up, startled, but quickly caught on to the change in tone.

“Got to be prepared, haven’t I?” Peter grinned, holding up a Chocolate Frog as if it were a prized possession.

Remus, who had been quietly rummaging through his own suitcase, finally found his wand and pulled it out as if it were the most precious thing in the world. James noticed the second-hand books Remus was trying to balance on his lap. Remus had told him last year that all his school materials were sent by Dumbledore, but James had offered, more than once, to buy him new ones. Remus had always refused, of course, but it didn’t stop James from worrying about his friend. 

Sirius, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly leapt out of his seat and yanked his broom off the luggage rack. James raised an eyebrow, sensing an opportunity to shift the conversation to something that might get Sirius out of his dark mood.

“Been practising over the summer, have you?” James asked, with a sly grin, already knowing the answer. Sirius might have spent his summer in a house full of Dark wizards, but he’d still be Sirius—reckless, daring, and probably up to no good.

Sirius gave a half-smile, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. “More than you, I bet.”

“Oh, it’s on, mate,” James retorted, the competitive spark back in his eyes. Of course, talk of brooms inevitably led to Quidditch, and before long, the three of them were deep in a lively discussion about all the matches they’d missed and who they reckoned would be on the team this year. Peter chimed in every now and then, but he seemed more interested in devouring his Chocolate Frogs.

Remus, on the other hand, listened politely, his book still open on his lap, but there was a tightness in his smile that made James pause. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was bothering Remus. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet, even when they were going on about Quidditch. But whatever it was, it was soon forgotten when the trolley came around. 

James and Sirius pooled their pocket money, buying enough sweets to last the entire journey. The four of them feasted on Chocolate Frogs, pumpkin pasties, and every other treat they could get their hands on, and for a while, it felt like everything was right with the world. The unease from earlier was pushed aside, buried beneath laughter and the comforting familiarity of old friends.

* * *

James reckoned he was lucky he'd stuffed his face on the train, because he'd forgotten just how long and dull the Sorting Ceremony could be—especially when you weren’t the one being sorted. It dragged on, a blur of nervous first-years and a hat that seemed to enjoy the sound of its own voice far too much. His mind wandered until he heard a sharp intake of breath beside him. Sirius. 

Regulus Black was just walking over to the Slytherin table, the green and silver tie looking like a noose around his neck to James. Sirius looked like he’d been slapped, staring as if he couldn’t quite believe it. Narcissa, her new platinum hair catching the light, was beaming at her cousin with pride, the silver prefect badge on her chest gleaming. The younger Black brother slid into a seat next to her, smiling stiffly, and was immediately welcomed by Severus bloody Snape, who patted him on the back like they were old pals. James narrowed his eyes. That greasy git was everywhere.

“What is his problem?” Peter muttered as the feast finally materialised before them. “You’d think he’d get over a few stupid pranks.”

James followed Peter's gaze to where Snape was now shooting gooey eyes in Lily’s direction. His expression made James want to heave—he looked like he might start sprouting hearts from his head at any moment. Like she’d ever go out with a git like you, Snivellus.

“More like he needs to get over Evans,” James muttered under his breath, stabbing a roast potato with more force than necessary. 

Sirius, Peter, and Remus all looked at him with raised eyebrows. Why were they looking at him like he was mad? Surely, he wasn’t the only one who had noticed Snivellus’s ridiculous obsession with Lily?

“Oh, come on, it’s obvious!” James grinned, enjoying the chance to show off his perceptiveness. “Ol’ Snivellus is clearly madly in love with a certain carrot-topped Gryffindor.” He shot Lily a wink, hoping for a laugh. Instead, she gave him a look of pure disgust and turned her back on him, leaning closer to Marlene.

Smooth, Potter, real smooth, he thought, trying to brush off the sting of rejection.

Sirius, ignoring the exchange, looked sceptical. “So, because we got the bird he fancies, he’s going to be a pain in the arse for the next six years?” 

Sirius had picked up the term "bird" after they’d overheard a group of older Muggle boys at the beach that summer. It had taken them a while to figure out what on earth the boys were talking about—birds this, birds that—until Sirius finally realised they meant girls. James wasn’t sure he’d ever actually use it seriously, but it was funny to hear Sirius trying it out.

“Exactly,” James confirmed, feeling rather proud of himself for piecing it all together.

“Nah,” Sirius disagreed, wrinkling his nose as if the idea was too absurd to entertain. “No one could care that much about a girl.”

James wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t about to argue with Sirius about it, though. He’d seen the way his mate’s face hardened at the sight of his brother across the Hall. Sirius had enough on his plate without James harping on about Snape’s crush. Instead, he just shrugged and dug into his roast potatoes.

“If you say so. Maybe he’s still sore about that time Remus punched him.”

That got a laugh out of Sirius, his mood finally lifting. “Oh, that was brilliant,” he grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Didn’t know old Lupin had it in him.”

Remus, who had been quietly focusing on his food, flushed a little at the memory but smiled, too. James caught his eye and grinned back. Whatever Snivellus’s problem was, they’d deal with it together, like they always did. For now, though, James was just glad to see Sirius laughing again.

Chapter Text

By the time dinner ended, Sirius seemed to have bounced back to his usual self. James had been in the middle of recounting a rather exaggerated story, one that had Peter laughing so hard he ended up snorting pumpkin juice out of his nose. The sight of Peter sputtering and coughing sent the lot of them into hysterics, the whole table shaking with laughter. For a moment, James could almost forget the icy, piercing gaze he could feel drilling into the back of his neck—almost.

It had started on the train. He’d first noticed it then, a strange, unsettling sensation that made him turn around, only to catch Regulus Black glaring daggers at him. When they’d disembarked, Regulus had shoved past him with all the grace of a raging bull, heading towards the boats for the first-years, a look of pure venom on his face. James had kept an eye on him during the Sorting too, as if sensing that something was off. When their eyes had locked, Regulus’s gaze narrowed into two icy blue slits, filled with a disdain that James couldn’t quite place. And now, during dinner, he could still feel that same gaze, sharp and cold, coming from the Slytherin table.

Being the target of such clear hatred was new to James, especially when he hadn’t done anything to earn it—at least not that he knew of. There was something oddly familiar about Regulus, though. It wasn’t like they’d met before, but James had heard plenty about him during those late-night talks with Sirius, the ones where the others were fast asleep and Sirius let his guard down, if only a little.

Sirius had described Regulus as intense, but in a way that was different from his own fiery passion. Regulus was cold, calculated, and fiercely loyal to the Black family’s twisted ideals. James knew that Sirius had felt guilty all summer, constantly worrying about leaving his little brother alone in that toxic house for another year. He could still hear Sirius’s voice from one of those late-night conversations, the words heavy with guilt.

“He’s always been the perfect Black, following all the traditions and expectations. My rebellious streak doesn’t sit well with him, especially since he’s been left to carry the Black name on his own.”

James had pieced together that Regulus probably felt abandoned, maybe even resentful that Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor. But what did that have to do with him? Why did Regulus look at him like he was the enemy?

As they stood up to leave the Great Hall, Sirius did a spot-on impression of Dumbledore, complete with twinkling eyes and a ridiculous, grandfatherly voice. James doubled over in laughter, nearly toppling over and grabbing onto Sirius for support. In his hasty movements, his glasses slipped off his nose, clattering to the floor. The other Marauders were too busy with their antics to notice, leaving James behind as he bent down to retrieve them. But when he reached out, his glasses weren’t there.

Squinting through the blur, he looked up and froze. Standing in front of him was a boy with long black hair and piercing blue eyes, the very same eyes that had been boring into him all evening.

“Sirius?” James blurted out, the word slipping out before he could stop himself.

But it wasn’t Sirius. As he put on his glasses, the world came back into focus, and he realised with a jolt that it was Regulus, standing there with a look of utter disdain.

“Oh... Hi, Little Black,” James chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head and messing up his hair even more in the process.

Regulus scrunched up his nose in disgust, looking down at James as if he were something foul stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Although he was almost a head shorter than James, the intensity in his eyes made him seem much taller.

“It’s Regulus to you,” he said coldly, stepping closer, his voice dripping with contempt. “But I’d rather you didn’t address me at all, blood traitor.”

Before James could respond, another first-year, the one with straw-coloured hair, came over and pulled Regulus away toward the dungeons. James stood there, feeling strangely numb, a suffocating chill washing over him. He shook himself out of it, forcing a smile back onto his face as he caught up with Sirius and Peter in the corridor. Remus wasn’t with them, but by now, his absence was so common that none of them mentioned it as they made their way back to the dormitory.

As they settled in for the night, Sirius pulled out his beloved music box—Record player, James! How many times do I have to tell you—and started setting it up. James shot him a look of mock exasperation.

“Not this again,” he groaned. “You’ve already made us listen to that Stardust bloke a billion times this summer.”

“Yeah, but Remus hasn’t heard it,” Sirius shot back, laying out his new albums on the bed with an air of importance. James sat up, curiosity piqued.

“Where is Remus, anyway?”

“Hospital Wing.”

“Huh. He’s sick quite a lot, isn’t he...”

A pensive look crossed James’s face as he mentally counted the days, but it wasn’t a full moon that night. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe there was another reason for Remus’s visits to the Hospital Wing. But then again, he’d done the math during the summer, and it didn’t lie—every time there’d been a full moon, Remus had been absent. He opened his mouth to share his thoughts, but Sirius interrupted him, speaking quickly.

“Bet you’d be sick too if you’d had to spend the whole summer around Muggles.”

James chuckled, letting the subject drop. “Yeah, s’pose so.” He turned to Peter, who was setting up a chessboard. They’d get to the bottom of the Remus mystery another time.

When Remus finally returned to the dorm, Sirius perked up, bouncing on his bed like an overexcited puppy.

“Lupin!” he beamed, “You have to hear this!”

“Thank Merlin you’re here,” James groaned, tossing aside his Quidditch magazine. “He’s been banging on about that Muggle singer all summer.”

“He’s not a Muggle!” Sirius snapped, hands on his hips in mock indignation. “He has to be a wizard. Has to be! You should see the clothes he wears...”

Remus crossed the room, his curiosity piqued, and picked up the record sleeve. A small smile crossed his lips.

“Oh, Bowie! Yeah, I like him. I don’t think he’s a wizard, though.”

Sirius deflated a bit at that, the excitement in his eyes dimming. He’d been so eager to introduce the music to Remus, to share something new and brilliant with him. Catching the change in his expression, Remus quickly added, “I’ve heard Starman a lot, on the radio, but no one at St. Eddy’s has the album!”

Sirius brightened up again—Starman was one of the songs he’d played on repeat all summer, much to James’s annoyance. Eagerly, Sirius fixed the needle in place, ignoring James’s long-suffering sigh. James decided he’d had enough of the same old tune and, with a dramatic huff, grabbed his magazine and left the room.

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with activity as James descended the staircase. As he reached the bottom, he noticed Lily sitting alone at a table, surrounded by parchment and textbooks, her brow furrowed in frustration. She seemed to be wrestling with her History of Magic homework, a sight that struck James as odd. Lily was the brightest witch in their year, so seeing her struggle was like spotting a Hippogriff in the library. Then it hit him—being Muggle-born, she likely didn’t have a History of Magic book lying around at home to give her a head start.

Unable to resist the opportunity to tease her, James sauntered over with a playful grin. “Having trouble with Binns, Evans?”

Lily looked up, irritation flashing in her green eyes. “What does it look like, Potter? I’m having a thrilling time deciphering his sleep-inducing lecture notes.”

James chuckled, plopping himself down in the seat opposite her. “Lucky for you, I happen to be something of a goblin history enthusiast. How about I lend you a hand?”

Lily raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “And why would you know anything about the Goblin Rebellions?”

“Let’s just say I’ve got a natural talent for history,” James replied with a smirk. “I’m feeling generous today, Evans. How about we team up and conquer Binns’s impossible essay together?”

Lily hesitated, her independent streak warring with the idea of accepting help, especially from James Potter. “I don’t need your charity, Potter. I can handle it on my own.”

James leaned back, eyeing her thoughtfully. “It’s not charity, Evans. Think of it as two brilliant minds joining forces to survive Binns’s torturous exams. Besides, who doesn’t love a good goblin rebellion?”

Lily rolled her eyes but finally relented. “Fine, but no funny business, Potter.”

“Scout’s honour,” James said, holding an imaginary badge to his chest. As they delved into the homework, James found himself surprisingly engaged, not just in the history of goblin rebellions but in the challenge of keeping up with Lily’s sharp mind.

Lily squinted at a particularly tricky question. “What’s the significance of the Goblin Rebellion of 1612?”

James leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ah, that’s a classic. The goblins were fed up with being treated like second-class citizens, so they—”

Lily cut him off with a scoff. “Nice try, Potter. It’s about their demand for fair treatment and representation within the Ministry of Magic. Goblins were fighting for equality, not just rebelling for the sake of it.”

Caught off guard, James scrambled to keep up. “Well, aren’t you a walking history book? But I’m sure there was something about a goblin revolution in there too.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Maybe you should reread it, Potter. It’s right there on page 314.”

As she reached for the textbook, James instinctively pulled it away, their hands brushing in the process. The brief contact sent an unexpected shiver down James’s spine. “Come on, Evans, where’s your sense of adventure? Let’s solve this with our wits, not the book.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who offered to help. If you’re wrong, I won’t let you forget it.”

Undeterred, James continued to hold the book just out of her reach. “It’s not about being right or wrong, Evans. It’s about the thrill of the chase.”

Lily’s determination flared, and she made a swift grab for the book. Their fingers touched again, and this time, James couldn’t ignore the spark that ignited in him. She finally snatched the book from him, flipping it open and triumphantly pointing to the passage that supported her answer.

“Looks like you owe me an apology, Potter,” Lily declared, a triumphant smile lighting up her face.

James blinked, momentarily stunned by the brilliance of her smile. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds—unexpected and far too dazzling for him to handle. He found himself captivated, not just by the way her lips curved but by the whole swirl of emotions playing out on her face. The intelligence that lit up her eyes, the quiet pride in her voice, the sheer beauty of her spirit—it all left him feeling a bit breathless, as if he’d taken a Bludger to the chest. For a split second, he forgot where he was, who he was—forgot the banter, the teasing, even who was supposed to be winning this little back-and-forth.

When she finally called him out, dragging him back to the here and now, James fumbled for a moment before a grin spread across his face. It was all he could do to keep from gawping at her like a complete idiot.

“Apologise? Never,” he quipped, doing his best to shove down the fluttering in his chest. “I was just testing you, making sure you were actually paying attention.” He tried to sound casual, like his heart wasn’t trying to beat its way out of his ribcage. “Besides, who actually reads Binnss’ lectures cover to cover, anyway?”

Lily rolled her eyes, the gesture full of exasperation. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

James chuckled, feeling the familiar rhythm of their banter return. He was on safer ground now. “Impossible, but irresistible,” he countered with a wink. “Admit it, Evans—you’re secretly enjoying our little study session.”

She scoffed, shaking her head in that way she did whenever she thought he was being particularly ridiculous. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Potter. It’s just a necessary evil.”

But even as she said it, James could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Their words continued to dance around each other, light and playful, and James felt a comfortable warmth settle in his chest. Yet, underneath all the familiar jabs and the easy teasing, there was something new—a sense of awe that he couldn’t quite shake off. He’d always admired Lily Evans, always enjoyed winding her up, but this… this was something different. Something that made his heart race a little faster, his thoughts linger a little longer on her than they should.

* * *

For the next week, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars seemed to echo through every corner of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. James wasn’t much of a music bloke—couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, really—but even he found himself humming along by the end of it. Sirius had insisted on playing the album on repeat, claiming it was the best thing since Chocolate Frogs, and though James had initially rolled his eyes, he had to admit there was something about it that got under your skin. Maybe it was the way Sirius practically worshipped Bowie, or how Remus would close his eyes and lose himself in the lyrics, but whatever it was, it worked its magic on James too. Even if he didn’t fully get all the fuss, he couldn’t help but tap his foot in time, the songs becoming as much a part of their daily routine as dodging Filch or plotting their next prank.

James had spent ages trying to convince Remus to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but no matter how many times he pestered him, Lupin wasn’t having any of it. It baffled James—who wouldn’t want to feel the rush of wind in their hair as they darted through the sky? But Remus was stubborn, always preferring to sit in the stands with his nose buried in some book or another, occasionally glancing up to watch the rest of them zoom around on their brooms.

James didn’t mind too much, though. As long as Remus was there, he was happy. Besides, flying came naturally to him—it always had. He could feel it in his bones, like he and the broom were one. It wasn’t just flying; it was soaring. His dives were sharp enough to make the other lads groan in envy, and he knew he had a knack for it. There was a certain pride in knowing he was good, really good, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit chuffed when he caught Remus sneaking a glance at him, even if it was only for a second before he went back to his book. James was certain that when tryouts came around, his name would be on the Gryffindor team roster. No one could outfly him—he was born for this.

Sirius, on the other hand, had a flair for the dramatic when it came to flying—he was a show-off, really. It wasn’t that he lacked skill; far from it. Sirius could be as fast as lightning when he wanted to be. The problem was his utter lack of discipline. He seemed to get bored easily and preferred to perform wild loops and dangerous swerves rather than focusing on the actual game. It drove James mad that he had to keep shouting at Sirius every few minutes just to get him to concentrate on catching Quaffles and repelling Bludgers.

Then there was Peter. After a summer packed with practice, he’d definitely improved and was quite competent on a broom. The only issue was that he was slow over long distances, which made James think that he might be better suited as a Keeper. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that Peter’s speed wasn’t his strong suit.

Quidditch wasn’t just a game to James; it was a way to push limits, to prove oneself. It was clear to him that Sirius needed to channel his talent more effectively, while Peter might just have a future guarding the goals rather than racing up and down the pitch.

“You’re acting like you get to hand-pick the whole team,” Sirius huffed as they trudged back to the castle after another practice session.

“They ought to let me,” James shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m better than at least half of the current team, and you’re miles ahead of both the Beaters. And let’s not forget, I know tactics.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Just don’t be too shocked if they don’t make you Captain. You’re still a second-year. There weren’t any second-years on the team last year, remember?”

“Have some faith, Black,” James grinned, slinging his arm over Sirius’s shoulder. They walked side by side, brooms in hand. The sun was dipping behind them, casting everything in a warm, golden hue, which made them look like a pair of heroic figures from some epic tale. 

James was confident—no, more than confident. He felt like he was on the brink of something great, and it was hard not to imagine himself in the Captain’s role already. The way Sirius acted, so casually dismissive, only spurred James on more. He had worked too hard and shown too much to be overlooked. As they walked back, with the sunset painting the world in gold, James felt like he was stepping into a future where everything he wanted was within reach. And Merlin help anyone who got in his way.

Chapter Text

James didn’t have a brother—he was an only child, and perhaps that explained a lot about him. The cockiness, the relentless ambition. His parents had always given him everything he pointed at, every toy, every broomstick, and that had bred in him an insatiable determination to achieve whatever he set his mind to. Why wouldn’t he believe the world was his for the taking when it always had been?

Remus was an only child too, as far as anyone knew. James supposed his mother might have remarried and popped out a few non-magic kids, but it didn’t really matter since Remus didn’t live with them anyway. Peter had a sister, but she was much older and had long since left Hogwarts. She’d been in Hufflepuff, but Peter didn’t talk about her much. She was studying at some Muggle university, which the Pettigrews considered the height of bad taste.

So, it wasn’t like any of them really understood what was happening between the two Black brothers, and maybe that’s why they didn’t take it seriously. Not at first, anyway.

It all started the morning after James’s study session with Lily. Sirius woke up in an unusually cheerful mood, which should have been the first sign something was off. He was humming as he brushed his teeth, which made James groan and throw his pillow over his head.

“Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you’re killing me here!” James mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. But Sirius just grinned, unbothered.

As they headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Sirius couldn’t resist teasing James. “Just you wait, Potter! One of these days, I’ll make you see the light—you can’t live in ignorance forever!”

James rolled his eyes, taking a seat at the long table. “Music’s just music! S’not like this Bowie bloke’s doing anything that hasn’t been done before.”

“You wound me!” Sirius declared, slumping dramatically onto Remus’s shoulder. “At least I have you, Lupin. Honestly, what are we going to do with these two?”

Remus just smiled and shrugged, his mouth already full of food. James was about to offer a witty retort when the post arrived, owls swooping in to drop off their letters and packages. James glanced over his shoulder, noticing a brand new eagle owl settling onto the Slytherin table, right in front of Regulus.

Of all people, Regulus had chosen to sit next to Snape. James felt a flicker of annoyance. The younger Black was trying so hard to blend in with the worst of them. Snape grabbed the letter that the owl had dropped, unfolding it with a smirk as Regulus protested weakly.

“Wow, Regulus, your parents are really proud!” Snape drawled, speaking just loud enough for the Gryffindor table to hear. “Listen to this: Our dearest son, we were so pleased to hear the results of your Sorting. The entire family commends you on upholding our noble traditions, and congratulations are in order…”

Sirius stared at his porridge, not rising to the bait, but James could see the tension in his shoulders. Regulus, meanwhile, was blushing furiously, trying to snatch the letter back from Snape.

“Didn’t your parents confiscate your owl again?” Peter asked bluntly. Regulus had managed to snatch the letter back by now, but Snape and his cronies were still snickering, and the owl sat perched imperiously on the Slytherin table. Sirius gave a sharp nod, muttering under his breath, “Said I can have it back when I remember my duty to the family and start acting like a ‘true Black’. I don’t care, I don’t need an owl.”

“What exactly is your family duty again?” James mused, loudly enough for the Slytherins to hear. “Go ‘round with creeps like Snivellus and Mulciber? Marry your cousin?”

Sirius finally looked up at James, his expression caught between gratitude and mischief. “Oh, yeah,” he replied, matching James’s tone, “Inbreeding and creeping are key aspects of my noble heritage. And picking on kids smaller than me, of course; cheating, lying, and cursing my way into power…”

“Well, mate, I’m sorry to break it to you,” James said jovially, “But it doesn’t sound like you’re a Black at all.”

Sirius’s grin widened, and he brought a hand to his face in a mock gasp. “Goodness,” he exclaimed, “What on earth am I?”

“It’s obvious,” James shrugged, “You’re a Marauder.”

Sirius laughed, and so did most of the Gryffindors nearby. James felt a warm surge of satisfaction—nothing made him happier than seeing his best mate smile. He wasn’t about to let Regulus, Snivellus, or anyone else take that away from Sirius.

But just then, James noticed Remus stiffen next to him. He followed Remus’s gaze to where Regulus was leaning away from Snape, a disapproving look in his ice-blue eyes. James reached out and gave Remus’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Come on,” Snape sneered, “We’d better get away from all this filth if we want to keep our breakfast down.”

James and Sirius only laughed harder, and Snape swept out of the Hall, followed by Mulciber and that new first-year with straw-coloured hair—Barty Crouch Jr., if James remembered right. Regulus lingered, looking torn between his new friends and his brother. The owl sat perched on his arm, surveying the scene with an imperious, condescending glare. Regulus edged closer to Sirius, his voice quiet and unsure.

“You can borrow it if you want,” Regulus offered. “I never asked her to send me anything, but you know what she’s like.”

“Yeah,” Sirius snorted, “I know.”

The brothers hadn’t spoken since their row on the train the day before, but Regulus didn’t look annoyed anymore. The curled lip, the petty disdain—it was gone now, like a mask he’d taken off. He just looked like a kid, someone James might have been friends with in another life, staring at Sirius with wide eyes that were a little unsure, a little hopeful.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay—I mean, you knew I’d end up in Slyth—” Regulus started, but Sirius cut him off, getting to his feet so quickly it startled him. “I don’t want your owl,” Sirius bit out, the words clipped and awkward. “If I need to send a letter, I’ll borrow James’s.”

With that, he pushed past Regulus and made for the exit. James, Remus, and Peter hurriedly got up and followed him. As they left, James glanced back at Regulus, who looked very pale and very cold.

I’m sorry, I can see you’re hurting too…

But the line had been drawn, and it was their duty as Marauders to support Sirius. Even so, James couldn’t shake the image of Regulus’s sad, lonely face from his mind.

* * *

The next week passed without a single sign of Regulus—not that it was surprising, given that Sirius refused to go anywhere near the dungeons. Instead, he spent most of his time in their dormitory playing The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars on repeat. It got to the point where even James found himself humming tunelessly along to Bowie, despite his earlier protests.

In return for putting up with Sirius's new obsession, James had them out on the Quidditch pitch every day, running the same drills they'd been practicing all summer. On a broom, James was in his element, zipping around like he controlled the very air itself. He felt certain that a spot on the team was in the bag, considering his skills. Sirius was no slouch either—he had a natural talent for flying and seemed to love it almost as much as James did. The problem was keeping him on task. Every few minutes, James had to shout at Sirius to stop goofing off and focus. There was no way he was letting Sirius mess up his chances by getting distracted in the middle of a game.

Not that Sirius made it easy. He was always looping and swerving, trying to show off, especially when Remus was watching from the stands. James couldn’t help but feel a bit miffed that he hadn’t managed to rope Remus into his grand plan of having all four of them on the Quidditch team. Remus, stubborn as ever, had flatly refused to join in the drills, though he did keep them company on the field, sitting in the stalls with his nose in a book.

It was hard to catch Remus without his nose buried in some tome. Even before lessons officially started, he’d been spending all his time on homework. Once classes began, he was unstoppable, answering questions before the teachers even finished asking them and completing assignments the moment they were handed out. It was a complete turnaround from last year, and it threw James and Sirius off their game. They were used to competing with each other, but now they had to up their efforts to keep pace with Remus. Poor Peter, meanwhile, was left floundering in their wake.

With so much going on, James hardly had time to think about anything else. But there was one thing, or rather one person, who kept sneaking into his thoughts—Remus Lupin. Or more specifically, Remus Lupin’s condition.

James found himself constantly sneaking glances at Remus, looking for anything that might confirm what he was beginning to suspect. But instead of fear, what he felt was a fierce protectiveness. He started steering conversations away from topics like curses, moons, and wolves, and each day, he scanned Remus's skin for any new scars (there were more than a few from the summer). He was also extra careful not to touch Remus too roughly, afraid of hurting him.

The hardest part was figuring out how to bring it up with Sirius. The four of them spent most of their time together, which meant there was hardly a moment when James and Sirius were alone. The only exception was their nighttime talks.

Over the summer, when Sirius stayed with James, he’d been given his own room. But most nights, he ended up falling asleep in James's bed, the two of them chatting until they couldn’t keep their eyes open. It had become routine, so at Hogwarts, it didn’t feel unusual when Sirius crawled over to James’s bed. They’d draw the curtains and whisper about spell combinations, creative uses for Dungbombs, or Quidditch strategies, trying to keep quiet so they wouldn’t wake the other boys. But since it was usually Sirius leading the conversation, James found it hard to bring up his own thoughts.

By the end of September, James decided he couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of waiting for Sirius to come to him, he climbed into Sirius’s bed. Sirius scooted over quickly, looking a bit surprised but not at all uninviting. It was two days after the full moon, but for some reason, Remus was still in the Hospital Wing, so they only had to worry about waking Peter. This was the perfect opportunity to bring up his suspicions.

“Lupin isn’t back yet,” James said, not bothering with small talk.

Sirius yawned, already half-asleep. “He’s been feeling sick—probably still in the Hospital Wing.”

Remus had spent the days leading up to the full moon claiming he wasn’t feeling well. For a brief moment, doubt flickered in James’s mind, but he quickly dismissed it. He’d read enough over the summer to know that werewolves often became more powerful near the full moon, not weaker.

“Yeah, but don’t you think it’s strange that Madam Pomfrey won’t let us see him?”

Sirius shrugged. “Maybe he’s contagious.”

“Yeah, I guess, but… don’t you think he goes to the Hospital Wing a lot?”

Sirius paused, then answered, “No.”

James stared at him in disbelief. Sirius was one of the smartest people he knew, always quick to notice details others missed. How had he not picked up on this? “He’s in there once a month. And it’s always on the full moon.”

Sirius’s face went pale, his eyes widening with realisation. “So?”

James leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I think… Remus is a werewolf.”

Sirius didn’t say anything for a moment. James watched as the words sank in, saw the confusion and fear flicker across Sirius’s face. But Sirius was nothing if not stubborn, and he quickly tried to argue for other explanations. James, however, had already made up his mind. He laid out all the evidence, point by point, until finally, Sirius gave in, accepting the revelation with a resigned sigh.

“So, what do you reckon we should do about it?” Sirius asked, and the question caught James off guard.

“I dunno,” James frowned, thinking hard. “Suppose we should ask him about it.”

Sirius blanched. “Ask him? Why?”

“To know if it’s true, obviously,” James replied, feeling like it should be obvious. “And… er, if there’s, y’know… anything we need to do. About it.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

“Well, you know…” James shifted uncomfortably. “In case it’s dangerous.”

Sirius snorted. “If Remus was dangerous, Dumbledore wouldn’t have let him into Hogwarts.”

James frowned, considering this. “You reckon Dumbledore knows, then?”

“‘Course he does. Lupin’s in the Hospital Wing every month. Reckon Pomfrey knows too, and probably McGonagall. Not sure about the rest of the staff, though.”

James nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. It’s not as if he could keep it a secret from Dumbledore…”

“Exactly! So it’s not dangerous, and we don’t need to say anything.” Sirius leaned forward, looking hopeful.

But James shook his head. “We still need to talk to him about it.”

“James,” Sirius groaned. “If you were a werewolf, and you were keeping it a secret, and your friends figured it out, would you really want them to confront you about it?”

James was baffled. “Why would I keep it a secret from my friends?”

* * *

Sirius had tried to dissuade James from his plan to confront Remus, but if there was one thing James Potter was known for, it was being stubborn. Once he had made up his mind, there was no turning back, and now, he was insistent on telling Peter everything they’d discussed.

The early morning light filtered into the dormitory, casting long shadows across the room as James, having barely slept a wink, tiptoed across the floor. He nudged Peter awake, whispering urgently.

"Pete, wake up. We need to talk."

Peter groggily blinked his eyes open, looking around in bleary confusion. "What’s going on, James?"

"Shh, keep your voice down. It’s important."

James led Peter down into the common room, which was still and quiet in the early hour. They found a secluded corner, the fire barely crackling in the hearth, and James took a deep breath. “Pete, me and Sirius were talking last night, and… well, there’s something you need to know. It’s about Remus.”

Peter, still half-asleep and disoriented, rubbed his eyes. “Remus? What about him?”

James glanced around, making sure they were completely alone before leaning in closer. “I think… I think he’s a werewolf.”

Peter’s eyes widened, and for a moment, fear flickered across his face. “A w-werewolf? Are you serious?”

James nodded, watching Peter carefully. “Yeah, but listen. Sirius reckons the professors already know about it—definitely Dumbledore. They wouldn’t let Remus stay at Hogwarts if he was dangerous. We need to talk to him about it, but just us, alright? No one else.”

Fear crept into Peter’s voice as he stammered, “Talk to Remus about… being a werewolf?”

James softened, sensing Peter’s anxiety. "Look, Pete, I know it’s scary, but we’re his friends. We’ve got to be there for him. Besides, he’s still Remus, right? Same bloke who’s been our mate all this time.”

“But, James… what if… what if something happens?” Peter’s voice quivered with worry.

James felt a flicker of annoyance but quickly pushed it aside. “Nothing’s going to happen, Pete. We can’t just abandon him because of something he can’t control. We’re Marauders, aren’t we? We stick together.”

Peter, still nervous but reassured by James’s words, nodded slowly. “Okay, okay… let’s talk to him. But, James, promise me it’s going to be alright.”

“We’ll make it alright, Pete,” James promised, clapping him on the back. “We’ll make sure Remus knows he’s not alone.”

As the morning edged closer to breakfast, Sirius appeared, descending the stairs with a stormy expression. His deep blue eyes flashed with frustration as he saw James had brought Peter into the fold.

“You can’t just go ‘round telling everyone!” Sirius hissed, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t even know if it’s true!”

“I’m not telling everyone! It’s Pete.”

That explanation didn’t seem to placate Sirius. He gave James the cold shoulder all through breakfast, barely acknowledging him. When they were supposed to be heading to class, Sirius mumbled something about forgetting his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay in the dorm and stalked off. James wasn’t sure he bought the excuse, but with Sirius in a mood, he didn’t fancy arguing with him.

The Transfiguration classroom was already buzzing with activity by the time James and Peter arrived. Professor McGonagall was assigning partners for the day’s practical lesson. Since Sirius had effectively abandoned him, James found himself paired with Marlene McKinnon, who sat in front of him.

James barely paid attention to the professor’s instructions, his mind preoccupied with the weight of the secret he carried. He absently twirled his wand, trying to focus, when Marlene turned around, frowning at his evident distraction.

"Potter, what’s eating you?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

James sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Just got some stuff on my mind, Marley. Don’t worry about it."

"Stuff? That’s a bit vague," Marlene retorted, raising an eyebrow. "You’ve been acting off since this morning. What’s going on?"

James hesitated, then decided to share a bit. “It’s Remus. I found out something, and… well, I don’t know how to approach him about it.”

Marlene’s concern deepened. “Something serious?”

“Yeah,” James replied, lowering his voice as he glanced around to make sure no one else could hear. “But it’s alright. Let’s just get through this lesson.”

Their hushed conversation caught the attention of Lily Evans, who was partnered with Mary MacDonald nearby. Ever the outspoken one, Lily couldn’t resist jumping in. “Potter, this is a partnered assignment. You might want to contribute before you drag Marlene’s grade down.”

James looked up, startled, meeting Lily’s determined gaze. “I’m not dragging anything down, Evans. Just got lost in thought, that’s all.”

“Well, find your way back,” Lily shot back, her tone firm. “Marlene doesn’t deserve a lousy partner.”

James, feeling a bit stung, found himself oddly intrigued by Lily’s fiery challenge. He began trying to get her attention, making little comments under his breath and casting harmless spells to distract her. When Lily steadfastly ignored him, he resorted to tugging lightly on her neatly plaited hair.

“Oi, Evans,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Carrots, pay attention.”

Lily whipped around, her eyes blazing. “I’m not talking to you, Potter! I swear I’ll—”

James cut her off with a smirk. “You just did.”

Lily, clearly exasperated, raised her hand. “Professor McGonagall, can Mary and I switch seats, please? I can’t concentrate with him acting like a child.”

McGonagall, ever stern and not one to miss a beat, granted Lily’s request with a sharp nod, and the two girls moved to another part of the room. James leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

Marlene leaned closer to him, her voice low. “You know, Potter, if you actually want to pass Transfiguration, you might want to tone down the charm and focus.”

James rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to charm anyone. Just having a bit of fun.”

Marlene gave him a knowing look. “Really? Because you’re still staring at Lily right now. You sure you don’t have a thing for her?”

James spluttered in denial, his face flushing. “What? No, I—"

Marlene, grinning, interrupted him. “Relax, I’m just winding you up.” Her expression softened. “But whatever it is that’s bothering you, it’ll work out. Life has a way of sorting itself out.”

James, still flustered, managed a small smile. “Thanks, Marley.”

As they turned their attention back to the lesson, James couldn’t help but steal a glance at Lily, his thoughts swirling with a mix of confusion and curiosity. But he quickly pushed those thoughts aside, reminding himself that his focus needed to be on the situation with Remus. That was what mattered right now. Not a certain redhead with an infuriatingly perfect plait.

Chapter Text

For the rest of Transfiguration, James’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts about Remus. Worry for his friend clashed violently with the uncertainty of how to approach something so delicate. Remus had always been private, kept certain parts of himself locked away, and James respected that. But this—this secret—felt too heavy, too significant to leave buried.

What if Remus was in danger every month? What if the professors didn’t know, and he was dealing with all this alone? The thought made James’s heart clench as he ran a hand through his perpetually untidy hair. The responsibility felt immense, and the idea that they needed to do something wouldn’t leave him alone.

He considered the potential consequences—how the school and the wizarding world might react if Remus’s condition became public knowledge. Would he be forced to leave Hogwarts? Would people shun him, treat him like a monster? The very thought made James’s fists clench, frustration mounting. Remus was their friend—more than that, he was a Marauder—and he deserved their support, not isolation.

But how could they bring it up? How could they let him know they were onto him without making him feel betrayed? James’s mind raced, running through possible scenarios, each one feeling more complicated than the last. Deep down, he knew they had to talk to Remus, but finding the right words, the right moment, felt like trying to solve a riddle with no answer.

Determination and anxiety fought for dominance within him. James was resolute—he would stand by Remus, no matter what—but the fear of how their friend might react gnawed at him, refusing to be ignored.

Sirius reappeared just in time for their History of Magic class, looking oddly subdued, his usual carefree swagger replaced by something more conflicted. James, seeing the turmoil in his friend’s blue eyes, temporarily pushed thoughts of Remus aside, determined to find out what was bothering Sirius. He spent the entire lesson trying to pass notes to Sirius behind Professor Binns’s back, but each attempt was met with a pointedly ignored note and a deepening scowl from Sirius. Was he still fuming about James wanting to confront Remus? 

Sirius remained withdrawn and unresponsive during lunch, and eventually, James threw his hands up in frustration. “I know you don’t like it, but we have to talk to him!” he whispered fiercely as they parted ways.

Sirius disagreed—had done so from the start—but James knew better than to expect a change of heart now. It was pointless to argue when he’d already made his stance clear, but nothing could stop James when he’d set his mind to something. And right now, he was set on protecting Remus.

As classes finally ended and the three boys headed back to their dormitory, James steeled himself. Beneath all the emotions swirling in his head, there was one thing that stood out—his unwavering loyalty to Remus. From the very first day on the Hogwarts Express, James had felt a pull toward the boy with the clouded amber eyes and the quiet, beaten-down look. Remus had nothing of the privileges James had been born into, and that made James all the more determined to be there for him. 

Remus was one of them—a Marauder—and James would never abandon his family.

James pushed the door open first, trying his best to channel the calm, steady presence his father had whenever they’d had a serious talk. Sirius followed, his expression carefully blank, betraying nothing of the earlier turmoil. Peter, as usual, looked out of his depth, his eyes darting nervously around the room. 

Remus was sitting on his trunk, but when they walked in, he stood, squaring his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight.

“Hiya, Remus,” James said, forcing a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. They all stood there, facing each other, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. James kept a strained smile on his face, but inside, he was squirming.

“Hi,” Remus replied, his eyes flicking back and forth between the three of them, suspicion growing with every second.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Look, mate, I’ll get right to it, okay?” James ran his fingers through his hair, the nervous tic leaving it more untidy than ever. “We’ve noticed… well, we couldn’t help but notice that you’re away a lot—in the Hospital Wing. Every month, pretty much.”

Peter was nodding behind him, and James caught a flicker of anger in Remus’s eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the guarded, warm look that James had come to associate with his friend.

“Okay.” Remus’s voice was flat, clipped.

“Yeah,” James continued, doing his best to keep the conversation light. “Every month… around the full moon.”

He let the words hang in the air, the silence growing heavier by the second. Remus exhaled sharply.

“Just say it, James.”

“Are-you-a-werewolf?” The words tumbled out of James’s mouth in a rush, the syllables tripping over each other. He looked down as he said it, feeling a wave of embarrassment for putting Remus on the spot.

Remus glanced at Sirius, who was staring at him with a look of determined support. Peter was biting his lip, his eyes darting nervously between Remus and James. Finally, Remus squared his shoulders, his chin jutting out defiantly.

“Yeah.” His voice was firm, almost daring them to react.

James just exhaled, the tension easing slightly from his chest. “Right.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes—no—bloody hell…” James ran his hands through his hair again, turning to the others for support, feeling suddenly out of his depth.

“It’s okay,” Remus said, his voice cold and distant. “I’m off. Just let me go and tell McGonagall.”

“Off? Off where?!”

“Back to St. Edmund’s, I s’pose.”

“You can’t leave Hogwarts!” James felt a surge of panic, his glasses sliding down his nose as he leaned forward.

“I can’t stay if everyone knows,” Remus snapped.

“We won’t tell anyone!” Peter squeaked suddenly, his voice breaking the tension. Remus looked at him in surprise, then at Sirius, and finally back at James, who was nodding earnestly.

“We won’t,” James confirmed, his voice steady.

Remus shook his head, a defeated look in his eyes. He looked like he’d given up hope, but that was alright—James had enough hope for both of them. He wasn’t about to let Remus walk away, not when they’d just started to figure things out.

“This isn’t a game,” Remus said, his voice trembling slightly. “If other people find out, I’ll have to leave. It could be worse than that—they might…” His voice trailed off, and he looked at them, his eyes filled with a helplessness that made James’s heart ache.

“We won’t let that happen,” Sirius said, stepping forward for the first time. His voice was calm, but there was an edge of determination to it. He looked at James and Peter, who nodded in agreement.

“Trust us,” James added, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Please?”

* * *

Remus had reluctantly agreed to give them a month. Or maybe they’d agreed to give him a month. It was hard to tell who thought who was more dangerous. The whole thing was agony, really, every moment filled with a new sort of awkwardness and a shyness that hadn’t been there before. It’ll be fine, James told himself over and over. Just give him time, it’s Remus—he’s your mate! He just needs some space. But another voice in his head kept chiming in, Stop acting so weird around him. He’s your friend, not some fragile thing! He deserves better than this.

Remus was still with them, but only in the most literal sense. Physically, he was at Hogwarts, sharing a dormitory, attending the same classes. But after James had confronted him, Remus had withdrawn completely. It was like last winter all over again—only worse, because now James and Peter were in on it too, and they both treaded carefully whenever they were all together. Sirius, though, was like a deer caught in headlights. He was the only one who still acted as if nothing had changed, as if they hadn’t just ripped open a wound that had been festering for years.

James was grateful for Sirius’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge the tension. It made it easier to talk to him, at least. The two of them spent many nights in hushed conversation, as Sirius tried to convince him that they should all just go back to normal, and James insisted that Remus needed space. Sirius didn’t see the point of confronting Remus in the first place if they were just going to carry on avoiding the issue, but James was adamant. The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm Remus with questions or try to force their help on him.

“Give him time,” James would say, “Lupin’ll come round when he’s ready.”

So for a whole week, they didn’t talk about it. Not a word, not even a whisper. James had to put his foot down to stop Sirius from badgering Remus, remembering the look on Remus’s face during that confrontation, and knowing that the last thing his friend needed was to have it all dredged up again. In front of everyone else, they carried on as usual—Remus was still blunt and sarcastic, Sirius still witty and arrogant, Peter still adoring and insecure. But when they were alone, the four of them were quiet, too polite, and far too thoughtful. James began to doubt his strategy, thinking perhaps he’d made a mistake in confronting Remus at all. But, as luck would have it, he never had to find out.

It all came to a head, as these things often did, in Potions class. This term, they were brewing Pleasant Dream Potions, which would take several weeks to complete.

“You’ll need to come back regularly in the evenings to check on your potion’s progress,” Slughorn announced, his walrus moustache twitching with delight. “I shall be marking you on persistence and attentiveness. To that end, I think it’s best if you all pair up so that you can take it in turns.”

There was an immediate buzz of chatter as students began to pick their partners. James turned to Sirius, grinning, not even needing to ask. But Slughorn wasn’t done.

“No, no, I’ve learnt my lesson,” he said, raising his voice above the commotion. He shot the Marauders a pointed look. “You may not choose the same partners you had last year.”

James and Sirius exchanged a glance, then looked at Peter and Remus, sizing them up. The solution seemed obvious.

“In fact,” Slughorn continued, “I think I shall assign the partners myself…”

Fortunately, Slughorn had the good sense not to pair any of them with Snape, though Peter ended up with Mulciber, who was easily twice his size. Mary and Marlene, who were as inseparable as James and Sirius, were also split up, much to their dismay.

“I want Sirius!” Mary squealed, earning a nudge from Marlene, and they both dissolved into giggles. Sirius looked horrified, and James couldn’t help feeling a bit put out. He ran a hand through his hair, straightening his back slightly.

Sirius slouched off to Mary’s table, while Marlene took her spot next to James. As she settled in, James’s eyes wandered around the room and landed on Lily, who had been paired with Remus. An unexpected pang of jealousy tugged at his insides, an emotion he didn’t quite understand.

Marlene caught him staring and gave him a sly grin. “Lost without your partner in crime, Potter?”

James chuckled, grateful for the distraction. “Please, Marley, I can handle myself. Besides, now I’ve got the pleasure of working with the one and only Marlene McKinnon.”

She laughed, a sound that was light and infectious. “You’re not so bad yourself, Potter.”

They began working on the potion, Marlene proving to be surprisingly adept at the delicate art of potion-making. As they chopped ingredients and stirred cauldrons, their conversation flowed effortlessly. James found himself watching Marlene as she worked—her golden blonde hair tied back in a complicated plait, her light grey eyes reflecting the glow of the potion. She was undeniably pretty, with animated expressions and a lightness in her laughter that matched his own. In many ways, she seemed like the sort of girl James should fancy—funny, quick-witted, and with a shared passion for Quidditch.

But as he watched her, he couldn’t help noticing the difference in how he felt compared to when he was around Lily. There were no butterflies, no sparks, no inexplicable surge of excitement. Marlene’s laughter, as lovely as it was, didn’t send a thrill through him like Lily’s did. He was lost in these confusing thoughts when Marlene suddenly raised an eyebrow and quipped, “Potter, why are you looking at me like that?”

James, momentarily flustered, quickly recovered and flashed his trademark grin. “Oh, Marley, you flatter me. I’m just appreciating the brilliance of our potion-making skills.”

Marlene didn’t get the chance to press him further because just then, Snape’s voice cut through the room.

“Eurgh! Look at him!”

James turned to see Severus pointing at Remus, who had his sleeves rolled up. His forearms were covered in pale scars, some fresher than others. Snape’s voice dripped with malicious glee. “What sort of disease does that?!”

Remus yanked his robes down to cover his arms, his face flushing with anger and embarrassment. Lily, ever the fierce protector, barked sharply, “Shut up, Severus! Why do you have to be so horrid?!”

“Lily, just look!”

“Mind your own business!”

James felt his ears grow hot, the anger bubbling up inside him. All the tension and uncertainty of the past days seemed to evaporate in an instant. Remus was a werewolf, sure, but he was their friend first and foremost. And Snape was hurting him. That was the only thing that mattered. James straightened up, ready for a fight.

“Oi, Snivellus, what are you saying about our mate?”

“Oh, stay out of this, Potter!” Lily groaned, “You’ll only make it worse!”

“Silence, please!” Slughorn boomed, clearly having had enough. “You’re not first-years anymore; I should think you’re able to concentrate on the task at hand.”

The classroom fell into an uneasy silence, and James turned back to his cauldron, scowling. Next to him, Marlene was frowning too.

“You’re not wrong for speaking up,” she whispered, leaning close. “I keep asking Lily why she’s even friends with him.”

“Why is she friends with that git?” James muttered, clenching his fists. “Can’t she see how insufferable and cruel he is?”

“She says they’ve been friends since childhood, and that we just need to get to know him like she does,” Marlene replied, weighing some herbs. “But I’ve heard him say some awful things about Muggle-borns… even about Mary, and she’s friends with Lily.”

Just then, Lily called out, “Oi, Potter!” James’s head snapped up, his glasses fogged over from the cauldron’s steam.

“Huh?”

Snape looked up too, glaring at James. But Lily just shook her head and went back to work. James tilted his head in confusion, a small pang of disappointment settling in his chest.

But then, out of nowhere, Snape’s cauldron exploded in a magnificent mass of foaming purple bubbles, spilling over the brim and all over Severus and his partner’s clothes. The classroom erupted into laughter, James included. Snape’s face twisted with rage as he tried to wring out his sopping robes.

“Oh dear!” Slughorn bustled over, trying to contain his amusement. “A bit overeager with the beetle husks, eh Severus?”

“It wasn’t me!” Snape shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Remus. “He did something! He must have!”

“Did you see Mr. Lupin tamper with your potion?”

“No, but—”

“Come now, boy,” Slughorn chuckled, tossing Snape a green tea towel. “We all make mistakes—even you!”

Severus spluttered, trying to come up with a retort, but the laughter around him only grew louder. Even Lily’s shoulders were shaking as she tried to hide her smile.

After the lesson, the Marauders practically ambushed Remus in the hallway, whooping and cheering like they’d just won the Quidditch Cup.

“You did it, didn’t you?!” James was grinning so widely his cheeks ached. 

“Absolutely brilliant!” Peter added, his eyes wide with admiration. 

“How the hell did you pull that off? You’re rubbish at Potions!” Sirius was laughing, his voice full of disbelief.

Remus just gave them a sly grin, neither confirming nor denying. He looked over James’s shoulder, and for a brief moment, James caught a glimpse of that old, familiar mischief in his amber eyes—the spark that had been missing for far too long.

“Didn’t I tell you?!” Sirius practically shouted, slinging his arms around Remus and James, pulling them both into a rough hug. “He’s still a Marauder!”

James laughed, a warm rush of relief flooding through him. For the first time in weeks, things felt almost normal again. Remus wasn’t some distant, untouchable figure. He was their Remus—the same clever, cheeky boy they’d always known, the one who could pull off a prank on Snape in the middle of class and get away with it.

“Bloody right he is!” James said, ruffling Remus’s hair affectionately. “Didn’t doubt it for a second.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head but letting James mess up his hair all the same. There was something comforting about the whole thing, the easy camaraderie, the way they fell back into their old rhythm as if nothing had changed. 

“Come on,” Sirius said, still beaming, “let’s get down to the kitchens. I reckon we’ve earned ourselves a feast.”

Chapter Text

Friday 6th September 1972

Once the initial ice had been broken, the questions came pouring out like a floodgate had been opened. That evening, after dinner, all four boys gathered on Remus's bed, leaning in eagerly.

“When did it happen?” Sirius asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Does Dumbledore know?!” Peter chimed in, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Have you ever, y’know, attacked anyone?” James added, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“What’s it like?” Sirius pressed on, ever the one to push boundaries.

“Where do you go when it happens?” Peter’s voice was small, like he was almost afraid to know.

Remus sat there, gnawing on his bottom lip, his knee pulled up tight against his chest as if it might shield him from the barrage. James could see the strain on his friend’s face, the weight of having to explain something so deeply personal. This was exactly why James had wanted to wait with all the questions. He knew they’d be tough for Remus to handle, and the last thing he wanted was to make him feel more isolated than he already did. He wanted Remus to see that they weren’t going to shun him, that they were his mates, no matter what.

James reached out and squeezed Remus’s knee, offering a reassuring smile. "Take your time, mate."

Remus gave a small nod, his gaze flicking between them as he gathered his thoughts. “Er… well, I was five years old when it happened. I don’t really remember much before that. And, yeah, Dumbledore knows. He’s known since before I came to Hogwarts. As for, um… attacking anyone… I don’t think I’ve ever hurt anyone. I mean, I’d probably know if I had.”

James couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy as Remus spoke. Five years old. Merlin, that was young. Too young to have something so monstrous thrust upon you. The thought of Remus as a little boy, dealing with this on his own, made James’s heart ache.

“So when you turn, you can remember what it’s like?” Sirius leaned forward, the curiosity burning bright in his eyes. “Being a wolf?”

Remus seemed to mull that over for a moment. “Um… not really? Maybe I can remember feeling stuff, but I don’t think I have a human brain while I’m like that. It’s more like a really bad dream.”

James’s mind was spinning, trying to imagine what it must be like to lose yourself like that, to have no control over your own body. It sounded terrifying. He couldn’t decide if it would be worse to remember everything or to have no recollection at all.

“I always thought werewolves were more…” Peter trailed off, his face scrunched up in thought. “I dunno, scary?”

James had to bite his tongue to stop himself from scolding Peter. He knew the question wasn’t meant to be cruel, but it was thoughtless all the same. Remus, to his credit, just shrugged, like he’d heard it all before.

“So is that what happened to your dad?” Sirius asked abruptly, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. “Did he get killed by the werewolf that bit you?”

Remus flinched slightly at the word “werewolf,” and James realised with a start that none of them had actually said it out loud yet. There was a heaviness to the word, like it carried all the weight of Remus’s secret.

“No,” Remus replied quietly, his voice more subdued now. “My dad, he… uh… well, he killed himself. After I was bitten, so I s’pose it was because of me. My mum—she’s a Muggle—couldn’t really handle it, I guess. So she sent me off to St. Edmund’s.”

A heavy silence fell over the group. James didn’t know what to say. “Sorry to hear about your dad” felt inadequate, too formal, too distant. This was something that had happened a long time ago, and Remus didn’t seem particularly upset about it, but James couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a lot of pain buried under the surface. He couldn’t imagine losing his dad. The thought alone was enough to make his chest tighten.

Sirius opened his mouth to ask another question, but James shot him a sharp look. “That’s enough, Black. Leave him alone.”

The atmosphere shifted after that, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air as they eventually split off to start their homework. James decided he needed to clear his head, so he laced up his trainers and went for a run around the grounds before it got too dark. Quidditch trials were coming up, and he was determined to keep his fitness up. He tried to drag Peter and Sirius along, but they’d both made excuses—something about needing to rest or finish homework, though James suspected laziness was more to blame.

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm, golden glow across the castle grounds. As James rounded a corner near the lake, he spotted Lily in an animated conversation with Mary and Marlene. Intrigued, he slowed his pace, pretending to stretch as he eavesdropped.

The girls were discussing the earlier incident with Snape’s exploding cauldron. James wondered if Lily knew that Remus had been the one to cause it since the two had been partners in Potions. But to his utter surprise, Lily proudly admitted, “It was my idea, actually. I added a little something to his potion, and I’d say my chemistry knowledge was spot on. The explosion was spectacular!”

James nearly tripped over his own feet, baffled by her bold admission. Lily Evans, the rule-abiding, top-mark student, had orchestrated the prank? A surge of admiration welled up inside him, though he couldn’t quite figure out why.

Mary and Marlene exchanged incredulous glances. “You did that?” Marlene asked, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

Lily grinned, a mischievous spark lighting up her eyes. “Absolutely. Severus was being insufferable last week, showing off how good he is at Potions… I wanted to teach him a lesson.”

“Well, I’m not complaining about that,” Mary chuckled. “But what if he finds out it was you?”

“He won’t,” Lily replied with a shrug, her confidence unwavering. “I covered my tracks.”

James was floored. There was something undeniably captivating about Lily when she was like this—sharp, clever, and just a little bit wicked. He found himself grinning like a fool, even as he tried to make himself look inconspicuous.

Just as Lily caught sight of him, standing there like a prat, he decided it was high time to resume his jog. He flashed a quick grin and gave a casual wave before breaking into a run, though he could feel her eyes on his back.

“Potter!” Lily’s voice rang out, and he could hear the suspicion in her tone. He tried to speed up, but she was quick, catching up with him in no time, annoyance evident on her face.

“What were you doing, eavesdropping on our conversation?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

James slowed to a stop, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Just trying to keep up with the latest gossip, Evans. You know, staying informed.”

Lily rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re incorrigible, Potter. Always meddling in everyone else’s business.”

“Meddling? Me? Never,” James said, feigning innocence. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

Lily shot him a sceptical look. “You and ‘right place’ don’t usually go together.”

James chuckled, enjoying the back-and-forth. “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf. Embracing my inner detective.”

“Detective? More like a professional eavesdropper,” Lily retorted, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Potato, potahto,” James replied with a shrug. “The important thing is that I heard about your little stunt with Snape. Quite impressive, Evans.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re here to mock me, save your breath. I’ve got better things to do.”

James couldn’t resist a teasing remark. “Oh, come on, Evans. Embrace your mischievous side. It suits you.”

Lily sighed, this time in exasperation. “Potter, I don’t need your approval.”

James grinned, undeterred. “I’m just being honest, Evans. I like this side of you—shame you don’t show it more often.”

Lily shook her head, clearly unconvinced. “I couldn’t care less what you think of me, Potter.”

James watched her retreat, a bemused smile playing on his lips. There was something about Lily Evans that was utterly fascinating, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Later, after lights out, Sirius crept over to James’s bed, casting a Silencing Spell over them. As he settled onto the blankets, James gave him a stern look.

“What was that earlier?”

“What?”

“With Remus! You’ve got to be more careful about what you say sometimes, Black, honestly!”

Sirius blinked, confused. “What did I say?”

“He was talking about his dead dad!” James whispered, exasperated. “You can’t just keep pestering him—he was upset!”

Sirius frowned, thinking it over. James stayed patient, knowing that empathy didn’t always come easily to Sirius, especially when it came to situations he hadn’t experienced himself.

"He was fine," Sirius said, with a nonchalant shrug, his voice a bit too dismissive for James’s liking. "It’s not like it happened yesterday, is it? Besides, he didn’t look sad about it."

James rolled his eyes so hard he nearly saw the back of his skull. “Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you can be really thick sometimes, you know that? Just because someone doesn’t show it doesn’t mean they’re not feeling it. We’re talking about his dad here.”

Sirius furrowed his brow, clearly trying to process what James was saying. But James knew that Sirius didn’t always connect the dots when it came to emotions that weren’t his own. Sirius was all fire and fury, his heart worn on his sleeve like a badge of honour, while Remus kept his feelings locked up tight, buried somewhere deep. James felt like he was somewhere in between—too sensitive for his own good, absorbing everyone else’s emotions whether he wanted to or not.

There was a long pause, and then Sirius shrugged again, more slowly this time, like he was testing out the motion. “Nah,” he said at last, “Lupin’s fine. He’s tough, you know?”

James let out a sigh, realising it was a losing battle. “You’re hopeless,” he muttered, though there wasn’t much bite in his words. There was no point in arguing further, so he switched topics, steering the conversation towards the upcoming Quidditch trials. He could always count on Quidditch to lighten the mood.

They chatted for a while longer about strategies and broom maintenance, Sirius getting more animated as they went along. When Sirius finally lifted the Silencing Spell and slipped out from behind the curtains, James took off his glasses and settled back, ready to drift off to sleep. But through the fuzzy slit in the curtains, he noticed Sirius creeping across the room towards Remus’s bed. A soft glow began to emanate from behind the closed curtains, and James couldn’t help but smile, his heart warming at the sight.

“Bang on, mate,” he whispered to himself, a tired but fond smile tugging at his lips. Maybe Sirius wasn’t as dense as he let on.

* * *

Friday 13th October 1972

“So what exactly are we doing here?” James whispered, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth as he squinted down the dim corridor. 

“And why did we have to bring the stupid cloak?” Sirius grumbled, adjusting the Invisibility Cloak on his shoulders with a huff. “It’s hours until curfew.”

“I’m hot,” Peter whined, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

“Shut up, all of you,” Remus snapped, his voice low and firm. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Concentrate on wha—ouch!” Sirius yelped as Remus kicked him sharply in the shin, nearly losing his balance in the process.

“I said shut up,” Remus repeated, this time with a glare that dared them to disobey.

“Bloody oik,” Sirius muttered under his breath, rubbing his leg and sulking as he fell silent. 

Remus had dragged them all out under James’s Invisibility Cloak, insisting that he had a mission for them. But so far, the grand mission had only involved shuffling around the castle like a bunch of headless chickens. Now they were standing in front of a grotesque statue of a hunchbacked witch in the middle of an empty corridor. And for some reason, Remus kept sniffing every few seconds, like some sort of overzealous bloodhound.

“Have you brought us here to meet your new girlfriend, Lupin?” James asked, his smirk widening as Remus continued to stare at the one-eyed witch.

“Why do you keep sniffing like that?” Sirius asked, his voice dripping with petulance. “I don’t want to be this close to you if you’re catching something.”

“Can’t any of you smell that?” Remus asked, his voice tinged with incredulity.

“Smell what?”

“...chocolate. Definitely chocolate.”

“Chocolate? Where?” Peter perked up immediately, his eyes darting around as if he expected sweets to materialise out of thin air.

“I can’t smell anything,” Sirius said, looking suspiciously at Remus.

“Me neither,” James added, though he was starting to feel a bit left out now.

“It’s coming from the statue,” Remus continued, completely unperturbed by his friends’ confusion. He reached out and touched the stone carefully, his fingertips brushing the rough surface.

“What?” Sirius asked, irritation creeping into his voice. “Reckon the old bint’s hump is packed with sweets or something?”

James noticed the way Sirius was shifting his weight from foot to foot, clearly restless. Sirius was always like this—itching to do something, to figure things out. He didn’t like being in the dark, unless it involved some kind of exciting, reckless adventure.

“No,” Remus said thoughtfully, his hand still pressed against the statue. “I reckon it’s one of those secret passages from that book of yours.”

Sirius’s eyes lit up, his irritation vanishing in an instant. “Really?!” He peered more closely at the statue, as if expecting it to reveal its secrets at that very moment. “And you can actually smell chocolate? Is that some… special thing you can do?”

“Yeah.” Remus’s voice was matter-of-fact, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. 

James couldn’t help but feel a bit envious—having super senses sounded bloody brilliant, even if it did come with the whole ‘turning into a werewolf’ downside.

“It doesn’t lead to the kitchens,” Peter said knowledgeably, puffing out his chest a bit. “They’re on the ground floor, a Hufflepuff told me.”

“How do we get in, then?” Sirius mused, eyeing the statue with renewed interest. 

“Password?” James suggested, “Like the common room.”

“Scallywag!” Peter shouted, far too enthusiastic. Nothing happened. Sirius and Remus burst out laughing.

“I didn’t mean it would be the same password, Peter,” James said, doing his best to stifle his laughter, though it wasn’t easy.

“What about Alohomora?” Sirius suggested once he’d caught his breath. Remus tried it, but the statue remained stubbornly unyielding.

“That’s for locks, you idiot,” James said, still chuckling. “Isn’t there something else for revealing hidden passageways?”

“Oh yeah!” Sirius nodded eagerly, the excitement returning to his voice. “Yeah, there is… umm… Dissendium!” He tapped his wand on the witch’s hump.

Instantly, the hump slid open, revealing a gap large enough for them to file inside one by one. The scent of damp earth wafted out, but there was still no sign of the elusive chocolate.

“Brilliant!” James grinned, slipping inside first. The cloak was still clutched under his arm as he led the way down a flight of cold stone steps.

“Lumos!” they chanted in unison, their wands casting a soft glow in the narrow tunnel. James strode out ahead, the others following closely behind.

“C’mon, then,” he called over his shoulder, the thrill of adventure bubbling up inside him. “Let’s see where this goes!”

They tramped through the tunnel, the earthy smell growing stronger with every step. By the time they reached the end, they found themselves at another staircase, this one leading up to a wooden trapdoor. They exchanged glances, silently agreeing that James should go first. He didn’t mind—he was more than happy to be the first to discover whatever lay beyond.

He pushed the door open cautiously and poked his head through. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room, but when they did, he was greeted by stacks upon stacks of boxes and crates. And then the smell hit him—rich and sweet, overwhelmingly of chocolate and other confectioneries.

“I don’t believe it!” James laughed, hauling himself the rest of the way through the door. “You lot have to see this!” He grabbed both Sirius and Remus by the arms and pulled them up after him.

“Where are we?” Sirius asked, his blue eyes wide as he took in the dark little room.

“Hogsmeade,” James whispered, his voice brimming with excitement. “This is the storeroom at Honeydukes!”

“The sweetshop?” Remus asked, though the answer was already clear from the sheer volume of chocolate surrounding them. Sirius had already ripped open a box, revealing at least five hundred Chocolate Frogs.

Remus was the only one who hadn’t been to Hogsmeade before—one of the few purely magical villages in Britain. The rest of them had visited with their families, and James was well acquainted with Honeydukes’ merchandise. But this—sneaking into the sweetshop through a secret passage—this was something else entirely.

As Sirius opened another box, this one containing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, James couldn’t help but feel a surge of triumph. They’d done it—they’d found a secret way into Hogsmeade. And if that wasn’t a true Marauder’s achievement, he didn’t know what was.

They finally coaxed Peter up, and spent a good hour exploring the shop, marvelling at their own brilliance. Remus directed them with surprising authority, choosing a bit of everything. Behind Remus’s back, James slipped a bag of Sickles and Galleons from his robes and left it on the counter. Even a Marauder had to have some sense of honour, after all.

The four of them returned to the Gryffindor common room with their pockets bulging and their faces aching from grinning. One of the prefects docked points from them for missing curfew, but not even Peter could bring himself to care. They gorged themselves on sweets until their stomachs hurt, and as they all lay in bed later that night, Sirius’s voice cut through the darkness.

“That’s definitely going on the map.”

James smiled to himself, the taste of chocolate still lingering in his mouth.  

Chapter Text

James woke up that morning with a surge of energy, one that he’d been holding back for days. It was Quidditch trials day, and he was more than ready to show everyone just how good he was on a broomstick. Determined not to waste any time, he dragged Sirius out of bed an hour earlier than they really needed to be up.

“C’mon, Black,” he whispered loudly, practically bouncing on his toes. “Up, up! We’ve got to get down to the pitch!”

Sirius grumbled, burying his face deeper into his pillow. “Potter, it’s not even light out yet...”

“That’s the point!” James replied, grinning despite the irritation in his best friend’s voice. He tugged at Sirius’s blankets. “We need to warm up before everyone else. Today’s the day we make history, mate!”

Eventually, with much moaning and groaning, Sirius rolled out of bed. James knew his friend wasn’t a morning person. In fact, Sirius was quite possibly the least morning person in the entire school. But today was far too important to waste away sleeping. James was buzzing with excitement, adrenaline already coursing through his veins. There was no way he could have stayed in bed any longer, not with the thought of flying to his heart’s content.

Remus and Peter weren’t spared either. They were harassed out of bed by James's infectious enthusiasm until they were all trudging down to the pitch together, bleary-eyed and grumbling but awake nonetheless. 

Sirius was still grumpy as they pulled on their flying kits. James kept whispering to him about how much fun it would be when they were both on the team, adding more fuel to his determination. Everything had to turn out perfectly today—it just had to.

Finally, they moved out onto the Quidditch pitch, the sun just beginning to rise behind them, casting long shadows on the grass. It was time for the hopefuls to be put through their paces, and the Chasers were up first. James was in his element. The moment he kicked off the ground, he felt alive, more than alive—invincible. He swooped, dived, and twisted in mid-air like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he was born to do this.

He caught a glimpse of the stands and was surprised to see a familiar flash of red hair. His heart did a little flip as he realised it was Lily. A playful grin spread across his face. She was watching him. He attempted a particularly tight turn, the kind that would make any normal person’s stomach lurch. His grin widened when he saw her emerald eyes following him closely. For a moment, he felt like the king of the world.

Within the first minute, it was clear to anyone watching that James was leagues ahead of the other hopefuls. When he finally landed, flushed and grinning from ear to ear, he shot Sirius a broad, satisfied smile. This was going to be a breeze. There was no doubt in his mind that they’d both make the team.

Next up were the Beaters. Sirius, Marlene, and a burly fifth-year took to the sky along with six Bludgers. It was thrilling to watch; James crossed his fingers and shouted encouragement to Sirius, his voice echoing across the pitch. Sirius deftly avoided the Bludgers and knocked a few out of the way, but it was Marlene who stole the show. She flew circles around her competition, swinging her bat with machine-like precision, sending Bludgers flying across the pitch every time.

James felt a pang of concern. It wasn’t that Sirius was doing badly—far from it. He was almost as good as James when it came to speed, but he lacked that same razor-sharp precision Marlene had. As the trial went on, James’s conviction that they’d both make the team began to falter. He wished Marlene wasn’t so bloody good, or at least that there were two positions open for Beater.

James wanted nothing more than to be on the Quidditch team, but he knew he’d give up that spot in a heartbeat if it meant Sirius could have it. It would be a dream to have his best mate on the same team, but James also knew how badly Sirius took defeat. He’d seen the way Sirius’s mood darkened after even the smallest losses in board games, let alone something as important as this.

When Sirius landed, he crossed his arms and ignored the nervous smile James shot his way. The Captain, a lanky sixth-year named Ranveer Singh, gathered everyone to announce the results. James wasn’t worried for himself, but his stomach twisted with nerves for Sirius.

“Potter—Chaser!” Singh called out, almost immediately. 

James’s grin spread so wide it nearly split his face. He could hear murmurs of congratulations around him and felt a few pats on the back, but his eyes darted to Sirius. His friend stood stiffly, arms still crossed, and his expression was unreadable.

“And for Beaters…” Singh continued. James held his breath, hoping against hope that the Captain hadn’t noticed just how good Marlene was, that somehow, by some miracle, he’d call out ‘Black’. But then—

“McKinnon!”

James’s heart sank. The broad grin on his face faltered as he saw the look on Sirius’s face—a mix of anger and disappointment. It looked like Sirius either wanted to shove someone into a hole or jump down into it himself. The sense of triumph James was supposed to feel was now tainted with guilt.

The students began to disperse, Marlene and James hanging back at Singh’s request to go over the practice schedule. Sirius was about to leave when Singh called out to him.

“Oi, Black, hang back a minute, too!”

Sirius waited, his irritation growing more obvious as Singh congratulated James and Marlene. James practically glowed with excitement, but he kept sneaking glances at Sirius, who looked darker and more brooding by the second. Once Singh was done with them, he turned to Sirius.

“You did great out there,” Singh said with an encouraging smile, placing a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius visibly stiffened at the contact. “We could use a Beater for our reserve team, what d’you say?”

James’s eyes went wide, and he grinned eagerly. “That’s brilliant, Black!”

But Sirius gritted his teeth. “No thanks.”

“Are you sure?” Singh pressed, clearly not expecting the refusal. “It would be great to have you at practices, especially because Ardal is—"

“I said no, okay?” Sirius snapped, cutting him off. Singh frowned, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, mate.”

Sirius’s cheeks were flushed as he trailed after Marlene and James back to the stands, his expression thunderous. Marlene was beaming, her face flushed with pleasure, and she practically skipped over to Lily, who was waiting with Remus and Peter. The girls hugged, and Marlene’s grin only grew wider as she basked in the glory of her victory.

“I got in!” she announced, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“Yeah, well done, Marlene,” Sirius mumbled, eyes on the ground.

“Thanks... er, you were really good too, Sirius.” She offered awkwardly. He grunted in response.

James gave her a sideways look, his expression apologetic. He extended his hand to Marlene, trying to be as friendly as possible despite the awkwardness hanging over them.

“See you next week for the first practice?”

“Yeah, great!” She smiled brightly at him. “See you, Potter!”

The two girls set off back to the castle, chattering away. James watched them go, then turned to Sirius, who was kicking at a tuft of grass with a scowl on his face.

“Sirius, mate, it’s not the end of the world,” James said, trying to sound reassuring.

“I know.” Sirius’s voice was flat, his eyes still fixed on the ground.

“You could’ve been on the reserve team if you wanted. Singh did offer.”

“I know. I don’t want to be on the bench.”

James sighed, glancing at Remus and Peter for support. “Shall we go for breakfast?”

Remus nodded, giving James a pointed look. “Well done, James. You were amazing, congratulations.”

“Cheers, Lupin.” James grinned, finally allowing himself to feel proud. He had been so worried about Sirius that he hadn’t fully let it sink in yet, but now that it had... Bloody hell, he was chuffed.

“Yeah,” Peter added, punching him lightly on the arm. “Nice one, Potter.”

“Thanks!”

Sirius walked a few steps ahead of them on their way back to the castle, his silence like a dark cloud hanging over the group. James jogged to catch up with him, determined to cheer him up.

“You can try again next year,” he said, a note of optimism in his voice. “Ardal will have left by then, he told me he was dropping out to focus on his N.E.W.T.s.”

“I don’t care, it’s fine,” Sirius muttered, quickening his pace and lugging his broom as if it weighed a ton. He left the rest of them behind, his long strides putting distance between him and his friends. James started to follow, but Remus grabbed his arm, holding him back.

“Leave him,” Remus said, his voice tinged with irritation. “Let him go if he wants to be a moody git about it.”

James reluctantly nodded, watching as Sirius disappeared around a corner, his shoulders tense. He hated seeing his friend like this, but there was nothing he could do about it right now. 

Sirius didn’t bother joining them for breakfast, which left James feeling a bit off-kilter. He was just about to head back to the common room to look for him, but before he could even get his foot on the stairs, a group of Gryffindors surrounded him. Word had obviously spread that he’d made Chaser for the team, and now a gang of fourth-years were keen to talk Quidditch tactics, dragging him off to one side of the Hall. Peter tagged along too, which James appreciated. It was always better having Pete around in these situations—nice to have a mate who didn’t leave you stranded with a bunch of overly excited kids.

By the time early afternoon rolled around, Peter had wandered off, bored of the endless chatter, leaving James to navigate the corridors back to the common room on his own. He was still clutching his broomstick, feeling that triumphant buzz from earlier. Each step felt lighter than the last, the thrill of victory pushing him along, and he couldn’t wait to share the news with anyone who hadn’t yet heard.

He was just turning a corner, caught up in his thoughts of glory, when he almost collided with a figure in Slytherin robes. James jerked to a stop, broomstick clutched tightly as he avoided a crash. The boy—who James quickly realised was Regulus Black—glared up at him with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. That was definitely a Black trait, that cold, piercing stare.

“Watch where you’re flying, Potter,” Regulus spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

James blinked, taken aback by the younger boy’s hostility. “Easy there, mate. No harm done.”

Regulus sneered, his lip curling in that way that made him look just like Sirius—if Sirius had a stick up his arse. “I should’ve known Gryffindors lack the basic courtesy of looking where they’re going.”

James felt a flicker of irritation but decided to rise above it. “Hey, no need for insults. What did I ever do to you?”

Regulus narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer as if he wanted to challenge James right there in the corridor. “You took him away.”

James furrowed his brow, genuinely confused. “Took who away?”

A bitter smirk twisted Regulus’s lips. “Sirius. My brother. Ever since he met you, he’s abandoned his family and his responsibilities. All for Gryffindor glory.”

The realisation hit James like a Bludger to the gut, and he sighed. “Look, it’s not like I forced Sirius to be my friend. We just get on. Besides, it’s not like he’s cut all ties with your family.”

Regulus scoffed, the sound harsh and unkind. “You Gryffindors are all the same. Self-centred and blind to the consequences of your actions.”

James felt a sharp pang of guilt. He hadn’t really thought about how his friendship with Sirius might affect Regulus. “Regulus, it’s not as simple as you think. Sirius makes his own choices.”

Regulus’s glare grew even more venomous. “Choices influenced by people like you. Don’t pretend you don’t know the power you hold over him.”

James felt his ears grow hot, a mix of frustration and unease bubbling inside him. “I’m not controlling Sirius! He’s my friend because he wants to be, not because I made him.” But even as he said it, a heavy, uncomfortable lump settled in his stomach. Doubt crept in, uninvited and unwelcome.

Sirius is my friend because he likes me, James thought, trying to shake off the gnawing insecurity. Not because I’m good at pranks, not because I’m good at Quidditch, not because I’m popular, not because I help him get away from his family… No. No, he likes me, just me. Just me, James.

Determined to push away the doubts, James forced himself to focus on Regulus’s stony face. He tried to see the younger boy he’d once glimpsed in the Great Hall, the one who had probably been just as scared and overwhelmed as any first-year. Taking a deep breath, he softened his tone.

“Look, you should talk to Sirius instead of having a go at me. Whatever’s going on between the two of you, I’m sure you could sort it if you just—”

But Regulus wasn’t having it. “Easy for you to say. Gryffindor’s golden boy, always getting what he wants. You don’t know what it’s like to lose something.”

James felt a pang of sympathy, but he also knew Regulus was wrong. “Regulus, I never meant to cause any trouble between you and Sirius. I have nothing against you, and I certainly never meant to hurt you.”

The word ‘hurt’ seemed to catch Regulus off guard. For a brief moment, his icy facade cracked, confusion flashing in his blue eyes. But just as quickly, the coldness returned, and his glare turned even frostier, sending shivers down James’s spine.

“Whatever, Golden Boy.”

With that, Regulus turned on his heel and stalked away, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. James stood there, feeling a bit numb. He wasn’t used to people aiming such open disdain at him, and it left him feeling unsettled. But there was something else too, a newfound sympathy for Regulus, a recognition of the hurt and vulnerability beneath the younger boy’s icy exterior.

As the silence of the corridor settled around him, James made a decision. He was going to help Regulus, to help the brothers mend their relationship. Maybe then Regulus would see that James wasn’t the bad guy he seemed to believe he was. His dad had always said he had a knack for getting people to open up. And James had never shied away from a challenge before—so why should this be any different?

Chapter Text

Friday 3rd November 1972

Sirius’s thirteenth birthday was a marked improvement over the previous year—if only because it didn’t coincide with the full moon. That meant Remus could actually be part of the festivities this time around. Sirius had apologised for being a bit of a grump, but James just clapped him on the back with one of his easy grins. Holding grudges wasn’t exactly his forte, especially not when it came to Sirius. Still, something about the Quidditch trials incident seemed to have wormed its way into Sirius’s conscience, and he’d been noticeably softer with all of them lately—even with Remus and Peter. James had always been the one to reel Sirius in when he got too carried away, but it wasn’t as easy for the other two Marauders. So, this new, gentler Sirius was a bit of a relief for everyone.

Quidditch, however, was still a bit of a sore spot. James, showing a rare bit of tact, refrained from suggesting a lunchtime flying session on the morning of Sirius’s second Hogwarts birthday. 

The day started with their usual rowdy rendition of "Happy Birthday" at breakfast—a Marauder tradition by now. James’s family owl swooped in, delivering a massive basket of chocolates from his mum and dad, which Sirius immediately dug into. He’d also taken the liberty of ordering half of Zonko’s catalogue as a birthday present for Sirius, a gesture that was met with much enthusiasm. Remus, on the other hand, handed Sirius a small stack of Muggle magazines—Melody Maker and NME. James had never heard of the artists splashed across the covers, but Sirius’s face lit up as he flipped through the pages, clearly chuffed. They spent most of breakfast laughing over the bizarre outfits worn by the Muggle rockstars, Sirius pointing out his favourite bands while James tried to wrap his head around the fact that the pictures didn’t move.

James kept sneaking glances at Sirius, half-expecting to see some visible change now that he was officially a teenager. He felt a strange mix of longing and dread about turning thirteen himself. On one hand, he couldn’t wait to be the same “mature” age as Sirius—though “mature” was debatable when it came to his best mate. On the other hand, the idea of adulthood, with all its responsibilities and restrictions, wasn’t exactly appealing. But Sirius made it look easy. He always had this air of confidence, something that set him apart from the rest of them. James couldn’t help but notice how the girls giggled and blushed whenever Sirius was around, especially when he tossed out one of his trademark witty comments. Sure, James was popular, but girls didn’t react to him the same way. They’d laugh politely at his jokes and chat with him, but it wasn’t the same fluttery, wide-eyed response that Sirius seemed to elicit without even trying. A year ago, James wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but lately, he found himself paying more attention—fixing his hair, trying to catch the eye of a girl or two, even if he wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered.

By the time breakfast was over, they were all in high spirits, laughing as they headed towards their first lesson. But their good mood didn’t last long. Just as they were leaving the Great Hall, their path was blocked.

“Sirius,” a stern voice called out.

Narcissa Black stood before them, looking every bit the haughty Slytherin princess. At fifteen, she was taller than all four of them, and James had to admit she was quite pretty—if a bit pinched in the face. She didn’t have that mad glint in her eyes like Bellatrix did, but she wasn’t exactly warm either. Her long, platinum hair hung straight and shimmery, catching the light in a way that was almost too perfect. James realised he preferred girls with warmer hair colours, something less… icy.

Regulus was hovering by her side, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. James noticed the younger Black had been spending more time with Snape and that Crouch kid lately, and it didn’t sit right with him. If he was going to get through to Regulus, Snivellus’s influence certainly wasn’t going to help matters.

“Cissy,” Sirius greeted her with a nod. She flinched but didn’t scold him, which was a small miracle in itself.

“It’s your birthday,” she said flatly, as if announcing the date for mucking out the Owlery or Flobberworm-dissection day.

“Well, I was aware,” Sirius replied dryly.

Narcissa rolled her eyes but didn’t snap at him like Bellatrix probably would have. She was clearly the less volatile of the two.

“You’re to eat with us this evening,” she informed him, her tone making it clear this was not a suggestion.

“Come and sit at the Gryffindor table if you absolutely have to,” Sirius shot back, a defiant edge to his voice.

“No,” she countered, her grey eyes narrowing. “Your mother has given strict instructions. We’ll eat privately, in the Slytherin common room, like last year.”

“No!” Sirius said, frustration creeping into his voice. “I want to eat with my friends.” James placed a comforting hand on Sirius’s lower back, a silent show of support. He was ready to back Sirius up, whatever he decided.

“You can eat with them anytime you want,” Narcissa snapped, her hands now firmly on her hips. “Birthdays are family occasions.”

James glanced over at Regulus, who was staring at his feet, looking unusually nervous. It sent a ripple of unease through James—Regulus wasn’t one to show his emotions so easily. Something was definitely going on. James squeezed Sirius’s shoulder, just a light touch, but enough to make Regulus look up. The younger boy’s eyes locked onto James’s hand, his expression darkening as if he’d just witnessed something foul. James met Regulus’s icy gaze, trying to convey some kind of understanding, but Regulus only glared back, his eyes hardening with every passing second.

After setting a time for dinner, Narcissa turned on her heel and flounced away, Regulus trailing after her like a reluctant shadow. The four of them stood there, watching the Blacks retreat, and James turned to Sirius with a grin.

“Bad luck,” he said, clapping Sirius on the back. “Fancy bunking off lessons?”

Sirius seemed to mull it over for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah. I’ll just take a few Dungbombs with me to dinner.”

James’s grin widened. “We can see if that time-bomb spell works!”

“Perfect,” Sirius agreed, his spirits visibly lifted.

And just like that, the tension broke, the two of them already plotting their next mischief as they headed to class. After all, no Black family dinner could possibly go off without a hitch—not when Sirius Black had anything to say about it.

* * *

Sirius had been gone for what felt like hours after dinner, and James was starting to lose his cool. He paced the dormitory, checking his watch every few minutes and muttering to himself. He was half a mind to storm down to the dungeons and start yelling.

“We really need to start working on your map again, Lupin,” he said, raking his fingers through his already chaotic hair, making it stick up in even more unruly tufts. “We need to get everyone tagged, so we know where they are at all times.”

Remus barely looked up from his book, lounging on his bed like nothing in the world could bother him. “We’re a long way off that,” he replied, sounding far too calm for James’s liking. “We haven’t even mapped the East Wing yet. I’ll work on some of it over Christmas.”

“No, you won’t,” James stopped pacing and fixed Remus with a look. “You and Sirius are coming to mine for Christmas.”

Remus stared at him, blinking like he’d been caught off guard. “James, I can’t—you know I can’t.”

James waved a hand dismissively, already resuming his pacing. “I’ll sort it out with Dad, don’t worry about it. Full moon’s on the twentieth, I checked. We can all hang out here until then and leave on the twenty-first.”

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but James had already made up his mind. Besides, he was too distracted by his growing concern for Sirius to debate logistics right now. The silence stretched on, until James suddenly threw on his Invisibility Cloak, determination set in his jaw. 

“I’m going to find him,” he declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Peter, who had been quietly nibbling on a Chocolate Frog in the corner, hurriedly jumped to his feet and followed James out the door, eager to be part of the rescue mission. Remus glanced at his book, sighed, and decided to stay put—trusting James to handle whatever was going on.

James and Peter, huddled together under the cloak, exchanged worried glances as they navigated through the castle. The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with the usual chatter, but neither of them paid any mind, their thoughts occupied by the absence of their friend. The corridors were cold, and as they ventured deeper into the dungeons, the chill seemed to seep into James’s bones. He quickened his pace, Peter struggling to keep up.

“Where do you reckon he’s gone?” Peter whispered, his voice echoing ominously in the dark passageway.

James shook his head, anxiety tightening his chest. “I’ve no idea, but he’s been gone too long. Something’s off.”

Their footsteps echoed through the stone halls, the flickering torches casting long, wavering shadows. James’s mind raced with worst-case scenarios, his worry intensifying with every step they took. Then, as they rounded a corner, they spotted a familiar figure stumbling towards them. 

“Sirius!” James called out, forgetting for a moment that they were supposed to be invisible.

Sirius stopped, looking around wildly, eyes wide and unfocused. Peter quickly yanked the cloak off them, revealing themselves to their dishevelled friend. 

“What’s happened, mate?” James asked, stepping forward to grab Sirius by the arm, the sight of him sending a jolt of alarm through his system.

Sirius recoiled from the touch, his eyes flickering with a mix of pain and frustration that hit James like a punch to the gut. Peter hovered awkwardly, not sure whether to step in or give them space. 

Sirius didn’t say anything, just stared blankly at the floor, his usual fire completely extinguished. James felt a surge of protectiveness, his heart aching at the sight of his usually vibrant friend looking so utterly defeated.

“We’re here for you, Black,” James said softly, placing a gentle hand on Sirius’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort.

Sirius shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “I can’t… I can’t talk about it… Not here.”

James nodded, understanding that whatever had happened, it was bad. “Let’s get out of here, then. Back to the dorm.”

They guided Sirius through the dungeons, keeping to the shadows to avoid being seen. Peter kept shooting nervous glances at James, but James was entirely focused on Sirius, whose expression hadn’t changed since they’d found him.

“They’re insane,” Sirius mumbled, distantly, “My family’s insane. It’s horrendous, my mother’s gone crazy—she’s lost her mind. Disgusting, appalling…”

His face was white as a sheet, and by the time they got him back to the warm light of the dormitory, he looked even worse. It was like all the life had been sucked out of him.

Remus, who had been lounging on his bed when they entered, immediately sat up, concern etched on his face. “What’s up?”

Sirius collapsed onto his bed, face down, not bothering to answer. James exchanged a worried look with Remus before sitting down on the edge of Sirius’s bed.

“He’s been like this since we found him in the dungeons,” James explained, “Nothing but adjectives.”

“Superlative adjectives,” Sirius corrected, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re being dramatic,” James sighed, running his fingers through his hair again. He really needed to break that habit, he thought, but now wasn’t the time for that. “Want to tell us why?”

Sirius rolled onto his back, staring up at the canopy of his bed with a haunted expression. James’s stomach twisted. Just say it, he thought, Tell us, so we can help you.

“I’m getting married,” Sirius finally said, the words falling like stones into the silence of the room.

“What?!” James, Peter, and Remus all gaped at him, the shock of the statement hitting them like a hex. So that’s what Regulus had been so on edge about.

“Narcissa told me,” Sirius continued, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. “Usually they wouldn’t make a match until I was of age, like they did with Bellatrix, but Cissy says they’ve decided to tighten the reins in my case.”

“Make a match?!” James spluttered, utterly flabbergasted. “The Blacks don’t still have arranged marriages, surely?”

“Of course they do,” Sirius sighed, sounding both resigned and disgusted. “Noble and Most Ancient, et cetera, et cetera… They want to hold the betrothal ceremony next summer. I’m supposed to ‘buck my ideas up’ in time for it. Then the wedding is happening as soon as I finish Hogwarts. Doubt you lot’ll be invited.”

“That’s mad! That’s medieval! That’s—”

“My mother,” Sirius supplied bitterly.

Remus, ever the cautious one, cleared his throat. “Er, who are you supposed to be marrying?”

Sirius sat up, his expression darkening. “That’s the twist in the dragon’s tail, isn’t it?” he said, his voice laced with anger. “That’s my mother’s pièce de résistance,” he added, pronouncing the French perfectly, because even in his darkest moments, Sirius Black could still enunciate beautifully.

“Who?!” James demanded, the tension in the room thickening with each passing second.

“Cissy,” Sirius spat, the name tasting foul in his mouth.

“What?!” they all exclaimed at once, their disbelief palpable.

“Narcissa?!” Remus echoed, horror-stricken.

“Your cousin?!” Peter added, looking queasy.

“Narcissa Black?” James couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Sirius nodded grimly. The three of them reacted with a mix of outrage, shock, and sheer disgust. Sirius, looking suddenly exhausted, lay back down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Apparently, they’re looking to rein her in too. Andromeda—her sister, y’know, the only normal one—she’s pregnant, according to Cissy. They’re closing ranks, trying to prevent any more ‘dirty blood’ from getting in.”

“But there have to be other pure-blood girls out there,” James reasoned, trying to make sense of it all. “And I thought she and that Malfoy creep were going out?”

“They are,” Sirius confirmed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s as pissed off about it as I am, believe me. Talk about wedded bliss.”

“What about Regulus?” James asked, his mind racing through the possibilities. Sirius frowned, his face darkening further.

“What about him?” Sirius replied, his tone bitter. “Think he fancies her instead?”

Before James could respond, Peter chimed in, “She’s quite pretty.” The room fell silent as Sirius turned to glare at him, eyes narrowing.

“She’s my cousin, you dolt,” Sirius snapped, his voice like ice.

“All right, all right,” James intervened, holding up his hands to calm things down. “No need for name-calling, Pete was just trying to help.” He shot Peter a warning look, and the smaller boy shrank back slightly. James then turned his attention back to Sirius. “I meant, did Regulus say anything? He was there, wasn’t he?”

“Not. A. Word,” Sirius growled, and they all seemed to silently agree that bringing up Regulus any further would be a bad idea.

“Right, well,” James said, pushing his glasses up his nose in a familiar gesture. “We’ve got until next summer. And, believe it or not, we’ve got Narcissa on our side, which is something. So, I’d say it’s not hopeless.”

The look on Sirius’s face made it clear he thought James was being hopelessly naive. His blue eyes, usually so full of mischief, were clouded with something darker—something that unnerved James more than he’d like to admit.

“You don’t know what hopeless is until you’ve met my mother,” Sirius muttered, his voice low and grim, as if he was speaking from some place deep inside where he stored all the things he tried not to think about. James felt a pang in his chest—he wanted to say something, anything, to wipe that look off Sirius’s face, to make him laugh, to make him believe things weren’t as bleak as they seemed. But he also knew better than to underestimate the infamous Walburga Black.

Still, James wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. Especially not when one of his best mates was in trouble. 

“Well, she doesn’t know what a Marauder is,” James shot back, trying to inject some confidence into his tone, hoping it might be contagious. He met Sirius’s gaze, holding it steady, willing him to see that they were in this together, that they always had been. “And she definitely doesn’t know what we’re capable of.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a ghost of his usual smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was something. James took it as a sign that his friend hadn’t completely given up yet. 

“Gentlemen,” James announced, clapping his hands together with the kind of bravado only he could pull off, “We have a new mission.”

Remus, who had been watching the exchange with his usual air of quiet contemplation, looked up from his book. “And what exactly is our mission, O Fearless Leader?”

“To stop this wedding nonsense, of course!” James said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He flashed a grin, the kind that usually preceded some harebrained scheme or another. “We’ve got until next summer to make sure Sirius here doesn’t end up shackled to some pure-blood princess against his will. Piece of cake, right?”

“Piece of cake,” Sirius echoed, though there was a heavy note of sarcasm in his voice. But there was also something else—something lighter, like maybe he was starting to believe, just a little bit, that they could actually pull it off.

“Piece of cake,” Remus repeated, closing his book with a decisive snap. He still looked skeptical, but there was a spark of determination in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. If anyone could figure out a plan, it was Remus Lupin. 

“Piece of cake,” Peter chimed in, though his expression suggested he might prefer actual cake to whatever mad scheme James was cooking up.

James looked around at his friends, feeling a surge of affection for each of them. They were a motley crew, a mix of personalities and backgrounds that shouldn’t have worked, but somehow did. And if there was one thing James Potter knew for certain, it was that together, they could face anything—even the wrath of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. 

“Right, then,” he said, with a firm nod. “Let’s get to work. We’ve got a wedding to sabotage.”

Chapter Text

How on earth could you get yourself out of an engagement? James found the question echoing in his mind, a persistent annoyance that refused to be silenced. Sirius’s predicament had been ticking away at the back of his thoughts all day, like a particularly irritating itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He’d tasked the Marauders with coming up with a solution by Christmas, confident that they’d rise to the challenge as they always did. After all, they’d tackled harder problems before, hadn’t they? But the more he thought about it, the more James realised he was in way over his head. 

Engagements, marriage, family honour—those were all grown-up concerns. Thirteen-year-old boys weren’t supposed to be worrying about that sort of thing. Sure, James was from a pure-blood family, but the Potters had tossed those old traditions out the window decades ago. His parents had never so much as hinted at blood purity or suitable matches. They were cool like that. As long as James was happy, they’d approve of anyone he brought home, even if she turned out to be a Muggle or a—God forbid—Slytherin. The thought of being forced into a marriage was completely alien to him, and it made his blood boil on Sirius’s behalf. 

Still, despite James’s resolve to help, Sirius seemed determined to avoid the subject entirely. Instead, they spent the weekend after his birthday in a whirlwind of distractions, all carefully orchestrated by Sirius himself. They cranked up Bowie, his voice blaring through the dormitory as they explored a new secret passage that led from a broom cupboard on the fourth floor to a painting near the Astronomy Tower. They even managed to sneak ink-spraying quills into the bags of unsuspecting students, which earned them a good laugh. James was happy to play along, pulling Remus and Peter with him, but there was a gnawing worry beneath it all. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Sirius was hiding something deeper, something dark and unsettling. 

The three of them exchanged worried glances behind Sirius’s back, treading carefully around him. It was like they were all tiptoeing around a sleeping dragon, afraid that one wrong step might wake it. But Sirius was perfectly willing to exploit their concern, and he basked in the attention, knowing full well they’d do anything to keep him happy. Peter didn’t even complain, not once, though James had warned him beforehand to keep his mouth shut. 

But no matter what James tried, Sirius kept up the façade. He plastered on that reckless grin and dragged them all into one adventure after another, leaving them too exhausted by Saturday night to talk about anything remotely related to his family. James didn’t sleep much that night, his worry for Sirius gnawing at him like a dog with a bone. He kept sneaking glances at his friend, watching the rise and fall of his chest in the dark, trying to convince himself that everything was fine. 

By Sunday afternoon, though, Remus and Peter had had enough of Sirius’s avoidance tactics. After lunch, Sirius suggested they test out the time-delay spell on the Dungbombs—he’d meant to leave them in the Slytherin common room earlier, but with everything that had happened, he’d completely forgotten. Remus groaned in response, rubbing his temples like he had a headache coming on.

“I do have homework, y’know,” Remus muttered, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

They were sprawled across their dorm room, with Ziggy Stardust playing for what felt like the thousandth time. James couldn’t believe he actually knew the name of the bloody album now, and he wasn’t sure if he should be proud or concerned. Sirius, ever the dramatic one, threw a sock at Remus.

“Swot.”

“Tosser,” Remus shot back, though there was no real heat in it.

Peter, who had been trying to remain invisible throughout the weekend’s shenanigans, swallowed nervously. “I actually really need to get started on my Herbology essay…”

“Ugh, not you too,” Sirius groaned, throwing his head back as if the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders.

Remus raised an eyebrow at him, looking unimpressed. “I know for a fact that you haven’t even started that essay. Why don’t we go to the library?”

“Does Marauding mean nothing to you lot?” Sirius cried out, throwing his arm dramatically over his eyes like he was in the middle of a Shakespearean tragedy. “Our noble mission, trampled beneath the feet of academic drivel!”

Dramatic, much? James thought, but he kept that to himself. Instead, he offered, “I’ll help you, Sirius. You lads run along to the library if you want.”

Remus and Peter exchanged glances, clearly eager to escape before Sirius could rope them into another scheme. “Are you sure?” Peter asked, sounding half-hopeful, half-guilty.

“Yeah, go on, Pete! At least one of us has to write that Herbology essay—otherwise, who’ll the rest of us copy?” James said with a grin, giving them a nudge towards the door.

With that, the four Marauders split up—Remus and Peter heading to the library while Sirius and James took the Invisibility Cloak down to the dungeons. James hadn’t exactly planned on leaving Sirius alone, but the downside to the Time-Delay Spell was that they couldn’t guarantee there’d be anyone around when it went off. If they wanted to cover as much ground as possible before James’s Quidditch practice, they couldn’t stick together.

James suggested they skip a few of the passageways, but Sirius insisted he’d be sneaky enough to avoid getting caught, even without the cloak. “Besides,” Sirius added with a shrug, “if someone sees me skulking around, I can always say I’m paying a visit to my lovely family, can’t I?” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, and it twisted something in James’s chest.

However, it seemed the universe had other plans. James had just finished tucking his last Dungbomb behind a torch when he rounded a corner and froze. He was right by the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and though that wasn’t what sent a shiver down his spine, what did was the dimly lit dungeon echoing with the muffled laughter of Snape, Mulciber, and Barty Crouch Jr. His instincts kicked in, and he quickly pulled the Invisibility Cloak tighter around himself, creeping closer with the practiced stealth of someone who’d spent far too many nights sneaking around the castle.

Snape’s voice cut through the air, dripping with that familiar disdain. “Honestly, hanging around with those Mudbloods? It’s as if those Gryffindors don’t even know their station.”

Mulciber joined in, a malicious grin evident in his tone. “Couldn’t agree more. Filthy blood traitors, the lot of them.”

Barty’s sneer was practically audible. “But our dear Snape here doesn’t mind, does he? Such a loyal friend to that redhead Mudblood.”

James’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he tried to keep his breathing steady. The Invisibility Cloak felt like a flimsy barrier between him and the poison they were spewing.

Snape shifted uncomfortably, hesitation creeping into his voice. “Oh, it’s just… You know how it is. Can’t pick your friends sometimes.”

Barty’s voice was laced with contempt. “You’re tainting the Slytherin name by fraternising with that filthy Mudblood.”

James felt his anger flare up, a hot wave of fury that made it hard to think straight. He inched closer, trying to get a better view, when his elbow accidentally knocked his glasses loose. They clattered to the stone floor with a sound that seemed to echo for miles, and James’s heart plummeted.

“What was that?” Snape’s voice was sharp, cutting through the darkness.

James swore under his breath, realising he’d been found out. He couldn’t risk revealing the secret of the Invisibility Cloak, so he hastily yanked it off and tried to grab his glasses unnoticed. But it was too late—Snape’s dark eyes zeroed in on him like a hawk spotting its prey.

“Potter!” Snape sneered, his lip curling with malicious glee as he took a few quick steps forward. He ground James’s glasses under his foot with a sickening crunch. “Thought you could eavesdrop unnoticed, did you?”

James straightened up, forcing his frustration into a mask of indifference. “What’s it to you, Snivellus? Enjoying your little chat about Muggle-borns?”

Snape’s sneer deepened. “Coming to defend your Mudblood mate, Potter? How noble.”

James felt his blood boil, his temper flaring. “You’re the one who’s friends with her, not me. And don’t throw that word around.”

Snape took another step closer, his wand already in his hand. “What are you going to do about it, Potter, the knight of all Mudbloods?”

For a moment, the dungeon was filled with a tense silence, thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, without thinking, James lunged forward, his fists flying. He would’ve used his wand, but in his current state, with his sight so blurred, he figured his fists were more likely to hit their mark. Besides, there was something deeply satisfying about the idea of hitting Snape, of wiping that smirk off his greasy face.

Snape retaliated with a flurry of hexes, each one coming faster than the last. James barely managed to deflect them, his wand movements growing increasingly frantic. The clashes of spells echoed through the dank dungeon passageways, the noise vibrating off the cold stone walls.

“Sticking up for Evans, are we?” Snape spat, his voice dripping with disdain as he blocked a particularly nasty hex from James.

James, now fuelled by a mix of anger and frustration, shot back, “Someone’s got to, considering you’re too spineless to do it yourself.”

The duel intensified, both of them hurling spells and insults with equal fervour. It was a full-blown battle of wills, neither willing to back down. As Snape aimed a particularly nasty hex that James barely managed to dodge, he stumbled backwards, landing precariously close to where his glasses had fallen. Through his blurry vision, he saw Mulciber and Crouch approaching, their shadows looming larger and more menacing. James hated to admit it, but even on a good day, he’d struggle to take on all three of them at once. 

Desperately, he grabbed his glasses and yanked the Invisibility Cloak over himself, dashing into the shadows with a speed that even he found impressive. He could feel Snape’s eyes boring into the spot where he’d just been, his heart pounding with the thrill of the escape. 

Snape’s voice hissed through the darkness, cutting through the tension like a knife. “You’ll regret this, Potter.”

James threw one last, defiant glare over his shoulder before slipping further into the shadows. He managed to escape Snape’s clutches, but the bitter taste of the confrontation lingered, souring the rest of his day. As he hurried to Quidditch practice, he was grateful that Sirius didn’t press him for details when James rushed off—Sirius had enough on his plate with the engagement mess, and James wasn’t about to add to his burden.

By the time he arrived at the Quidditch pitch, the encounter with Snape, combined with the weight of Sirius’s engagement, left him feeling unfocused. The vibrant green of the pitch and the swift movements of the players were little more than a blur through his cracked glasses. He felt like he was playing in a fog, each pass and catch growing more elusive.

Marlene, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in James’s demeanour. During a brief pause in practice, she approached him, her concern evident in the way she looked at his damaged glasses.

“James, you’re not yourself today,” Marlene remarked, her eyes flicking to the cracked lenses.

James sighed deeply, running a hand through his tousled hair, which only made him look more dishevelled. “Just a lot on my mind, you know?” He tried to muster a smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

Marlene’s gaze softened with understanding. “Snape?”

“Partly,” James admitted, surprised by her insight. He raised an eyebrow. “How did you know that?”

Marlene’s expression was one of quiet sympathy. “He’s the only one who can make that stupid grin of yours disappear. And your glasses?”

“Snape decided they needed a bit of redecorating,” James replied with a wry smile.

Without pressing him further, Marlene took his glasses with a gentle touch and performed a quick Reparo Spell. The lenses mended themselves with a soft crackle, and she handed them back with a reassuring smile. “There you go. Better?”

James blinked, the world coming back into sharp focus. He managed a genuine smile. “Thanks, Marley. You’re a lifesaver.”

She shrugged, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “We all have our days, right? Even the perfect James Potter.”

James laughed, the sound a bit rusty but genuine. “I suppose you’re right. And I suppose I owe you for saving my eyesight.”

Marlene chuckled, giving him a playful nudge. “Only if you promise not to get into any more duels that involve broken glasses.”

James grinned, feeling the weight of the day lift just a little. “Deal.”

* * *

By the time James trudged back from Quidditch practice, the mood in Gryffindor Tower was decidedly more grim than usual. Sirius was ensconced on one of the armchairs, sulking as if he’d lost his favourite Snitch. 

James attempted to strike up a conversation, but Sirius merely shot increasingly venomous glares at his red flying robes, as if they’d personally betrayed him. Sensing that his friend’s mood was a black hole of frustration, James wisely decided to keep quiet. He settled onto another sofa and began flicking Zonko’s Bursting Beans into the fireplace, watching with a faint sense of satisfaction as they popped into colourful mini explosions.

The room was in this somewhat melancholy state when Remus and Lily Evans walked through the portrait hole. 

“Alright, Lupin?” James called out with a grin, raising his hand in a half-hearted wave. Remus nodded at Lily, who gave a brief, polite smile before heading up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

“Dumped us for Evans, have you?” James smirked, nudging Remus playfully.

“Potions,” Remus replied with a shrug.

“Right, of course. So, you’re chummy with her now?”

“Sort of,” Remus said, settling into an armchair, “She’s not too bad, really. But she thinks you two are a bit insufferable.”

“What?!” James and Sirius exclaimed in unison, both sitting up with affronted expressions.

“But everyone loves us! We’re practically lovable rogues!”

“She reckons you’re a pair of show-offs,” Remus said, trying to stifle a chuckle.

James gasped in mock horror. “How dare she! Clearly, we must make it our mission to win her over.”

“Why bother?” Sirius muttered, flipping through his book without looking up. “She’s friends with Snivellus; clearly, she has no taste.” This, of course, only solidified James’s determination to change Lily’s mind. He leaned forward, eager.

“Did she actually say that?” Remus nodded, clearly enjoying himself.

“She said you think you’re God’s gift,” he said, barely containing his amusement.

“What does that even mean—”

“It’s a Muggle expression,” Remus explained, smirking. “It means she thinks you’re full of yourself.”

“She thinks that, does she?” James said, slightly wounded but mostly amused.

“Well,” Remus said, still smirking, “To be fair, you sort of are.”

James burst into laughter. Remus joined in, grabbing a handful of Zonko’s Beans and tossing them into the fire. They soon turned it into a competitive game, trying to create the biggest explosions by hitting the embers just right.

“Almost forgot,” James said casually amidst the bean-throwing chaos, “Got a letter from Dad today. He’s spoken to McGonagall and got permission for you to stay over Christmas.”

“What? Really?” Remus looked at him, wide-eyed with surprise. James felt his heart soften at the look of astonishment on his friend's face. It wasn’t like Remus to be so surprised—when would he understand that James would move mountains for him, for all of them?

“Yeah, he’s not sure about the summer, though. Sorry about that.”

Remus shook his head, clearly touched but too speechless to say anything. James could see the silent gratitude in his amber eyes and found himself smiling warmly.

“Just waiting for you now, mate,” James nudged Sirius with his foot. “Have you sorted things out with your mum? Told her you’re going to the Pettigrews’ again?”

“Not bothering,” Sirius grumbled, still absorbed in his book. “Just planning to turn up at yours without saying anything.”

Sirius rarely kept in touch with his parents, but since the whole Narcissa fiasco, he’d been ignoring their owls altogether. James couldn’t help but worry; no matter how much Sirius tried to downplay it, the strain of being on such bad terms with his family was clearly wearing on him.

“Mum won’t take kindly to that,” James said, hesitantly.

“Don’t tell her, then.” Sirius didn’t even look up from his book, clearly more engrossed in the text than the conversation.

James and Remus exchanged a worried glance. They had to tackle Sirius’s engagement situation sooner rather than later. The thought of him being in this mood for the next five years was grim enough to make James shudder. It was clear that they needed to find a solution soon, or they’d be navigating this brooding atmosphere for far too long.

Chapter Text

By the time the Hogwarts Express trundled out of Hogsmeade station on Saturday 16th December, James, Sirius, and Remus were left with a rather peculiar conundrum. With the full moon still looming, they had to find an alternative way to reach James's home for the Christmas holidays. They’d waved goodbye to a sullen-looking Peter as he boarded the train solo. Peter had wanted nothing more than to stay behind with them, but he couldn’t very well explain to his parents why their werewolf friend needed to wait for the moon to pass. Remus had mentioned that McGonagall had given him a stern talking-to about keeping his secret under wraps, which, given her propensity for both sternness and talking, was no small feat.

McGonagall had been unexpectedly sympathetic to their plight, granting them access to the Floo network from her office ‘just this once.’ Remus had looked like he’d been handed a particularly nasty potion at the thought of it. James had spent several fruitless minutes trying to soothe his friend’s nerves, offering reassurances that nothing dreadful would occur and advising him to ignore the horror stories floating about in the common room. Of course, he couldn’t guarantee that Remus wouldn’t feel a bit queasy.

In the meantime, with the castle practically to themselves, they had spent their time exploring every nook and cranny they could find, and expanding their map to include the hidden corners and secret passages they’d discovered. The Gryffindor common room was almost deserted; only two seventh-years had stayed behind and were buried in their books in the library, revising for N.E.W.T.s. This left the common room as their personal playground where they could blast music as loud as they wanted and engage in games of Exploding Snap without fear of disturbing anyone.

Sirius had been receiving a Howler every morning since the 16th, each one demanding his immediate return home. With a nonchalant flick of his wrist, he tossed the scarlet envelopes into the fire, where Walburga Black’s furious wails echoed up the chimney. James found Sirius’s behaviour unsettling but decided against saying anything. Sirius had been itching for a fight lately, and the best course of action was to avoid sparking one. Unfortunately, Remus’s patience was wearing thin as the full moon drew nearer. The two boys bickered incessantly, and James found himself frequently stepping between them to prevent a full-blown row.

On the morning of the 20th, the tension came to a head. Sirius had just hurled another Howler into the fire, but it remained stubbornly vocal, awakening James and Remus with its piercing shrieks. Remus groaned from his bed, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“Just write back to her, for God’s sake!” Remus growled, hurling a pillow at Sirius from his bed. This was the third consecutive morning they’d been roused by the Howler’s discordant cries.

“IF YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE YOUR BIRTHRIGHT IN THIS COWARDLY FASHION THEN YOU HAVE ANOTHER THING COMING!” Walburga Black’s voice screeched from the chimney, making James’s stomach churn.

“Stay out of it, Lupin,” Sirius shot back, flinging the pillow in retaliation.

“How am I supposed to stay out of it when it’s blaring in our bloody bedroom every morning?!” Remus snapped, getting up and glaring daggers at Sirius.

The air crackled with tension. James had spent so many hours mediating between the two that he was too exhausted to intervene again. He peered through the crack in his curtains, the scene before him a blur without his glasses.

“I’m so sorry to inconvenience you!” Sirius retorted, his sarcasm dripping like poison. He looked dishevelled and sleep-deprived, but Remus’s mood was too foul to be swayed.

“How about you stop acting like a spoiled brat for five minutes?!” Remus shouted, his voice rising in frustration. “You’re so bloody selfish!”

“I’m not asking her to send them! At least I actually get post; at least people care enough to—”

This was the moment James had been dreading. Remus launched himself across the room, tackling Sirius onto the bed and pummelling him with furious blows. 

“SHUT. UP.” Remus grunted, landing a particularly harsh punch to Sirius’s left cheek. Sirius, though adept at hurling insults, was far less skilled in a physical altercation. He gasped, trying to push Remus away, and fumbled for his wand.

“Mordeo!” Sirius shouted, aiming directly at Remus’s face. Remus cried out, clutching his forehead and tumbling backwards onto the bed. James threw off his covers and leapt to his feet.

“You wanker!” Remus yelled, his face contorted with anger and pain.

“You deserved it!” Sirius shot back, his own fury palpable.

“Sirius!” James felt his face heat up as he stepped between his two friends. “You cursed him?! You bloody cursed him!”

Sirius looked less confident now, his bravado faltering. “He started it!”

“He didn’t even have his wand out!” James was furious, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage.

Remus stood in front of the wardrobe mirror, examining his swollen and bruised face. The sight made James’s stomach drop. Guilt gnawed at him—he should have been quicker, should have protected Remus better.

“Does it hurt?” James asked, his voice soft as he moved closer to Remus, gingerly pushing aside some of his fringe to get a clearer view of the damage. Remus shook his head, though the gesture was unconvincing.

“I’m going to the Hospital Wing,” Remus said curtly. “Don’t come with me.” He snapped the words sharply, glaring as James reached for his dressing gown.

As Remus strode out of the room in his pyjamas, James muttered under his breath, “Attacking someone who’s unarmed is really low, Black.”

* * *

James had headed to the Quidditch pitch to get some flying in, leaving Sirius sulking by himself in the dormitory.

The brisk winter air nipped at James’s cheeks as he soared through the empty pitch, the rhythmic whoosh of his broom cutting through the stillness of the morning. The recent fallout between Sirius and Remus weighed heavily on him, like a dense fog obscuring his thoughts.

James gritted his teeth, emotions swirling within him. He was disappointed in Sirius for resorting to cursing Remus, frustrated with Remus for not showing more understanding, and overwhelmed with guilt for not protecting his friend better. His broom seemed to mirror his inner turmoil, dipping and swerving with each turbulent thought.

The sky above was a canvas of muted blues and greys, offering no solace. The vastness felt as indifferent as his own swirling emotions.

As he completed another lap, Madam Hooch’s sharp voice cut through the quiet. “Potter, what are you doing out here so early?”

James landed with practiced ease, masking his internal chaos with a veneer of nonchalance. 

“I just needed a bit of extra practice, Professor,” he replied, trying to sound casual.

Madam Hooch approached, her hawk-like gaze assessing him. “You’re a clever lad, Potter, but not a particularly good liar. I suspect there’s more to your early morning flight.”

James hesitated, the weight of his emotions pressing on him. “Just needed to clear my head, Professor. Things are… complicated.”

Madam Hooch raised an eyebrow. “Complicated, you say? The sky doesn’t do complicated. It’s either up or down, left or right. No room for grey areas.”

James nodded, reflecting on her words. The simplicity of the sky contrasted sharply with the convolutions of his own feelings.

“Quidditch, Potter, is a release,” Madam Hooch continued. “It’s a way to escape your troubles, if only for a moment. But remember, flying away doesn’t solve everything. Sometimes, you need to face your problems head-on.”

James contemplated her advice, feeling the truth in her words resonate deeply. “I just want everything to go back to normal, you know?”

Madam Hooch patted his shoulder. “Normal is a fleeting concept, Potter. But you’ve got something special—talent. You were born to be a Quidditch star. Channel that energy into something positive. It might not fix everything, but it’s a start.”

By the time James returned to the common room, Sirius was looking thoroughly chastened. He muttered an apology as they headed down to lunch.

“Look, you were right. What I did…” He swallowed, looking pained. “It wasn’t okay. I was just—I was angry, and I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”

James gave him a half-smile. “I know, mate,” he said. “But I’m not the one you need to apologise to.”

Around one o’clock, just after lunch, James and Sirius went to visit Remus. Madam Pomfrey gave them a thorough telling-off first.

“I can’t believe the two of you!” She glared at them, hands on her hips. “Cursing a fellow Housemate! Cursing your dormmate, of all things! In my day, you’d have been given a good flogging! And Professor McGonagall has informed me that you’re aware of his special circumstances! One might think you’d have more sense!”

James offered copious apologies, while Sirius, who had long since grown immune to his mother’s scoldings, looked utterly abashed. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey seemed satisfied and allowed them to see Remus. They stood at the end of the bed like mourners, avoiding eye contact.

“We’re really sorry, Remus,” James began. Remus clicked his tongue.

“You didn’t do anything.”

James nudged Sirius, who looked up. 

“I’m really sorry, Remus.” Sirius’s face bore a heavy bruise on his left cheek, and his eyes were a bit too bright. James wondered if Sirius had shed a few tears over it. But as Sirius met his eyes, Remus’s expression softened.

“I started it. Sorry for hitting you.”

“Sorry about the Howler.”

“Sorry your mum’s a nightmare.”

“Sorry you’re a werewolf.”

They all laughed, and James smiled fondly at his friends.

“Will she let you out now?” James asked. “A few hours still ‘til the moon.” Remus’s face looked considerably better—less swollen, though still a bit red. He shook his head.

“Nah, she wants to try a new potion.”

“I didn’t know there was a cure!” James said, puzzled.

“There isn’t,” Remus replied quickly. “This is just a… I think it’s to make the transformation, you know… easier.”

They stared at him, uncomprehending. Remus shifted awkwardly.

“Like a painkiller, I suppose. Muggle ones don’t work.”

“Does it hurt, then?” Sirius asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and shock. James’s gaze flicked to Remus’s scars, matching the witch’s at St. Mungo’s. He silently cursed himself for trying to push the painful image from his mind. Remus endured that every month.

“Well, yeah.” Remus frowned. James sat on the edge of the bed, gently massaging Remus’s neck. He wished he could somehow ease his friend’s pain.

With Remus stuck in the Hospital Wing, the boys decided to spend the afternoon there. It was as good as the common room with no other students around. They played a few riotous games of Exploding Snap until Madam Pomfrey admonished them to quiet down, forcing them to switch to Gobstones. At dinnertime, they kept Remus company, eating the same hospital fare that he did.

This wasn’t a hardship for them—James and Sirius treated it like any other afternoon, with the hospital bed just an extension of their dormitory. But as James looked at his friends, he realised that this was everything. He’d never known what it was like to have brothers, but this felt pretty damn close.

By the time McGonagall came to chase them out, all the morning’s drama had been forgotten. Remus grinned and waved at them as they left. James went to bed that night feeling deeply grateful for his friends, smiling dreamily at the full moon out of the window.

* * *

The next morning, Sirius was practically vibrating with excitement, dragging James out of bed before the sun had even properly risen. The promise of going home soon was too exhilarating to contain. The sun was bright outside, its rays stretching across the castle grounds, and the absence of the moon seemed to only heighten Sirius's enthusiasm. Even the Howler from his mother, which had arrived like a red envelope of doom, failed to put a damper on his mood. He tossed it into the fireplace with a casual flick, its shrieks dissolving into the crackling flames as they made their way out of Gryffindor Tower.

Sirius led the way into the Hospital Wing with a bounce in his step that suggested he might actually be skipping. He came to a sudden halt at the end of Remus’s bed, and James, following closely behind, came to a sharp stop when his eyes fell on their friend. A sharp intake of breath escaped him as he took in the sight of Remus.

Before either of them could fully process the scene, Remus gave a lazy yawn, his eyes slowly cracking open.

“Alright, mate?” James ventured with a half-hearted smile, trying to sound more at ease than he felt.

“Alright,” Remus croaked, dragging himself upright. He squinted at their expressions, then reached for a mirror that Madam Pomfrey must have left on the side table. James held his breath as Remus lifted the glass.

The cut on Remus’s face looked half-healed, probably thanks to Madam Pomfrey’s ministrations, but it was still shocking. The scab was dark and menacing, stretching from the inner corner of his eye, over the bridge of his nose, and down to the centre of his opposite cheek. James had to stifle a wince; it looked as though Remus had come dangerously close to having his face split wide open.

“My beautiful face,” Remus said weakly, trying to make a joke of it, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were shadowed with exhaustion and a hint of resignation.

“It’s not that bad,” James said quickly, more to reassure himself than anything. “It’ll heal up in no time, I bet…”

“How did—” Sirius started to ask, but was cut off by Madam Pomfrey, who stormed over with a look that could have curdled milk.

“You two again!” she snapped, causing them to step back, suddenly feeling like scolded schoolboys. Her disapproval was more intimidating than even McGonagall’s. The nurse pulled the curtain around Remus’s bed with a sharp tug, closing them off from the view. James and Sirius exchanged a bewildered glance, caught between relief and frustration.

From behind the curtain, they could hear Madam Pomfrey’s voice softening as she spoke to Remus. “Oh, you’ve had a peek, have you?” she tutted, and James heard the sound of a lid being unscrewed. “I know it looks ghastly, but it’ll fade, just like the others. Should be barely noticeable by the new year.”

It was hard to imagine it ever looking less prominent. The scar was defiantly vivid, as if it wanted to be noticed. Yet, Madam Pomfrey continued in her calm, professional tone.

“Take this with you,” she said, her voice now gentler as she set something on the table. “Apply it morning and evening. Does it still hurt?”

Remus didn’t respond, but James could hear the rustling of movement, likely Remus shaking his head. Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue in a way that suggested she didn’t fully believe him. “Well, it might itch a bit as it heals. Perhaps we could try trimming your nails next month? Though, of course, the claws do come in anyway.” She sighed in exasperation. “Your face must still have been irritated even after we got the swelling down.”

Sirius’s spell...

“It’s fine,” Remus interjected, his voice the familiar mantra of trying to downplay things. “Can I go now? I feel okay.”

“Wouldn’t you rather get a bit more sleep?”

“No. I’m starving—I want to go down for breakfast.”

“Well, fine then. Get dressed and off you go.”

Sirius was unusually quiet during breakfast, leaving James and Remus to make conversation, which was a bit awkward given that neither of them was particularly skilled at chatting without Sirius’s input. After they’d eaten, they headed upstairs to pack, having left it until the last minute, as usual. James, frustrated by their perennial lack of foresight, decided to march to McGonagall’s office to ensure everything was set for their journey home.

The warmth of McGonagall’s office was a welcome contrast to the chilly corridors. The magical fireplace crackled with green flames, casting a warm glow across the room. The stern-faced professor looked up from her desk, her sharp eyes softening just slightly. “Mr. Potter, what brings you here?”

“Can’t a student visit his favourite professor just because?” James flashed her his signature grin, which was met with a raised eyebrow behind her square-shaped glasses.

“Charming as ever, Mr. Potter. I assume you’re here to check on the Floo Network arrangements for your journey home?” McGonagall’s tone was firm but carried an undertone of understanding.

James nodded. “Yes, Professor. Just making sure everything’s in order.”

McGonagall’s gaze was piercing as she regarded him. “I heard you visited Mr. Lupin in the Hospital Wing this morning. An unfortunate incident?”

“Yeah,” James admitted, avoiding her eyes. “Sirius and Remus had a bit of a row. Things got out of hand.”

McGonagall studied him for a moment, her expression softening slightly. “It’s evident you care deeply for your friends, Mr. Potter. Loyalty is a commendable quality.”

A small smile tugged at James’s lips. “Just looking out for them, Professor. We’re like family.”

The professor’s stern exterior softened, if only briefly. “Family is indeed precious. But tell me, Mr. Potter, how are you holding up in all of this? It must be challenging for you as well.”

James shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m… I’m fine, Professor. Just worried about them, you know?”

McGonagall leaned back in her chair, folding her hands on her desk. “Gryffindors are known for their resilience and bravery. But it’s crucial to acknowledge your own emotions, Mr. Potter. You can’t be a pillar of strength for others if you neglect yourself.”

James, still avoiding eye contact, shrugged. “I’m a Gryffindor. I can handle it.”

McGonagall gave him a knowing look. “You embody the qualities of a true Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. Just remember, you’re not obligated to save everyone.”

James nodded, though he was reluctant to fully embrace the advice.

* * *

James was no stranger to the peculiar sensation of travelling by Floo powder; it was a childhood rite he’d grown accustomed to. The disorienting swirl and twist had long ceased to unsettle him. He went first, his body seamlessly melding into the green flames, followed by Remus and then Sirius. Remus was a first-timer, but to James’s relief, the Floo powder didn’t seem to have much of an effect on him either. When James shot him a protective glance over his parents’ shoulders, Remus was already back on solid ground, looking slightly dishevelled but otherwise intact.

His parents greeted him with the same warmth he remembered from their last encounter. His dad, with his snow-white hair standing on end at every conceivable angle, bore a striking resemblance to James, only with a few more years and a lot less gel. His mum had James’s winning smile and eyes that were as warm and chocolatey as ever. Both of them enveloped Sirius in a hearty hug, while Remus, ever the picture of shyness, hesitated slightly before accepting their welcome. Fortunately, James’s mum’s sunny smile and genuine warmth soon had Remus feeling at ease.

James’s attention shifted back to his dad as he asked about the Quidditch team. He shot a quick, slightly anxious glance at Sirius, who, to his relief, merely grinned in response.

“Oh, he’s brilliant,” Sirius declared, launching into a detailed recount of their most recent match against Hufflepuff—a thorough drubbing, with James racking up no fewer than two hundred points. James beamed with pride as his dad’s eyes sparkled with interest, and they quickly became engrossed in Quidditch talk.

They drifted into the sitting room, which was a picture of festive cheer. Three sofas were arranged invitingly around the room, and wide, tall windows bathed the space in soft winter sunlight that danced across the polished hardwood floors. In the corner, a gigantic Christmas tree stood like a beacon of holiday spirit, glistening with silver dust and surrounded by a veritable mountain of brightly wrapped presents.

Despite their wealth, the decorations had always leaned more towards cosy charm than ostentation. Colourful paper chains and streamers adorned the ceilings and picture rails, and the portraits were festooned with softly twinkling fairy lights. As his mum bustled them towards their rooms, she called over her shoulder, “For goodness’ sake, Fleamont, let the boys put their things away before you start planning whatever it is I know you’re planning.” James couldn’t help but smile broadly, feeling a deep sense of comfort and belonging. The house was awash with Christmas cards and tinsel, looking as if someone had emptied a sack of festive cheer all over the place, and he loved every bit of it.

James’s bedroom was more than spacious enough for all three of them—bigger than their dorm at Hogwarts, with a king-sized four-poster bed to match. There were four equally grand bedrooms in total, each waiting for his friends to choose from. Sirius had already laid claim to the room next door, leaving James with a fond smile as he watched Remus choose the third room. The look of wonder in Remus’s amber eyes was a sight to behold.

“Come on then, lads!” his dad’s voice boomed up the stairs with enthusiastic urgency. “It’s been snowing all afternoon, and I’ve got the toboggans ready!”

Chapter Text

James had never spent a Christmas away from home, and he was quite certain he never wanted to. Despite Hogwarts's magical decorations and charm, nothing compared to the sheer joy of being at home for Christmas. This year, the cherry on top was that Remus and Sirius were with him.

Before they’d even had a chance to unpack, James’s dad corralled them outside into the snow, his enthusiasm infectious. “No boys of mine will catch a cold on my watch!” his mum had called after them, ensuring they were all bundled up like some overstuffed sausages. Peter had popped over from the village to join them once he heard the news, and the afternoon was filled with a raucous battle of snowballs, sneak attacks, and the blissful thrill of flying down the hills on toboggans. James’s dad had even joined in the fun, using magic to enhance his somewhat waning youthful energy.

When his mum finally called them in for lunch, it was with the promise of warm toasted teacakes smeared with rich yellow butter, which was enough to make any frosted fingers forget their chill. They had to change out of their damp clothes before sitting by the fireplace, the warmth a welcome reprieve from the cold. As they munched contentedly, James found it hard to hide his grin, every moment feeling like a perfect slice of home.

In the afternoon, when they were itching to go outside again, James’s dad had retreated for a nap, and his mum was adamant they stay inside as nightfall approached. Instead, they turned their attention to decorating a monstrous Christmas cake with white royal icing and tiny magical figurines, followed by wrapping presents for the neighbours and the house-elves.

As James wrestled with spell-o-tape, Sirius lamented, “We never got anything for the house-elf. Mind you, Kreacher’s a moody git; I doubt he wants anything.”

“They’ll take gifts as long as it’s something edible,” Euphemia replied, her smile warm. “No clothes, of course—that only upsets them.”

“Tell Mum what your lot does to house-elves, Sirius,” James interjected, reaching for more tape. Sirius shifted uncomfortably but chuckled softly.

“Mounts their heads,” Sirius said, his tone light but his expression serious. “Once they’re dead. I think we wait until they’re dead… Kreacher’s the only one I really remember.”

“Goodness,” Euphemia’s eyes widened slightly, but her gaze remained compassionate, “I had thought that sort of tradition had died out.”

“Not with the Blacks,” Sirius sighed, James could almost see the thoughts of his betrothal weighing on him.

“You’re doing a lovely job with that, Remus,” Euphemia said, turning to their friend, who was meticulously wrapping a book in striped paper. “Unlike some naughty boys I could mention…” She gave James and Sirius a mock stern look as they struggled with their tape. Despite her mock disapproval, the twinkle in her eye betrayed her amusement.

Remus smiled at her, albeit a bit tentatively, the fresh cut on his face moving with his expression. James hoped his friend would soon feel comfortable enough to engage more with his parents—they were already quite taken with him. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, almost doting on Euphemia as if she were his own mother.

After a few more minutes of wrapping (James and Sirius were in a race to untangle their hands from the tape), Remus let out a sizeable yawn. He tried to cover it with his hand, but Euphemia caught sight of it immediately.

“You’d better head up to bed, dear,” she said gently, ignoring the fact that it was only three o’clock in the afternoon. James felt a twinge of guilt; he knew his mum had been briefed about Remus’s condition. 

“Oh, you’re all right, aren’t you, Lupin?” Sirius grinned, “Peter’s coming back soon, and we can go out again.”

Remus blinked, looking at James for support. 

“Leave him alone, Sirius,” Euphemia chided, her tone softening. “The poor boy’s exhausted. Come on, dear, off you go.”

Remus, looking visibly relieved, stood up and headed off, and James felt a pang of sadness. He was having such a great time and hated the thought of Remus missing out. But he reminded himself of the morning’s events and the full moon last night. His mum was right; Remus needed his rest.

As Euphemia prepared a Healing Potion for Remus, Sirius leapt to his feet. “I can take it to him!”

“Thank you, love,” Euphemia said warmly. “James, come here, let me see what you’ve done to your hands.”

As Sirius bounded upstairs, James approached his mum by the countertop, instinctively settling on it as he had when he was younger, letting his mum stand between his legs. It no longer had the same effect—he was only a few inches shorter now—but it still felt comforting. Euphemia’s touch was gentle and reassuring as she worked on freeing his fingers from the tangled mess of spell-o-tape.

“You foolish boy, will you ever grow up?” she teased, her smile affectionate.

James chuckled. “Do you really want me to, Mum?”

Euphemia glanced up at him, her eyes softening. “You know, your friends are wonderful, James. I’m glad we finally got to meet Remus. He and Sirius are both fine young men.”

James beamed, his heart swelling with pride. “Yeah, they are. The best, really.”

Euphemia finished untangling the last bit of tape, her touch light and tender. She placed her hand on his, her eyes reflecting both maternal pride and a hint of concern. “I’m proud of you, James. Bringing your friends home for Christmas shows a generous heart.”

James leaned back against the counter, his gaze drifting to the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. “I just want them to have a good Christmas. They’ve got so much going on—Remus with his condition, Sirius with… well, everything.”

“You’re a true friend, James,” Euphemia said softly. “It’s beautiful to care so deeply for others.”

He sighed, his voice carrying a mixture of determination and a touch of desperation. “I know, Mum, but I want to do more. I want to help them, make things easier somehow.”

Euphemia squeezed his hand, her gaze filled with understanding and motherly love. “James, it’s wonderful that you want to help. But you can’t carry all their burdens. Be there for them, support them, but remember you’re not alone in this. You have us, your family. Sometimes, letting others help is the best way to share the load.”

A tender silence settled between mother and son, the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over the kitchen. 

“Thanks, Mum,” he finally said, meeting her eyes. “I just want to make sure they have the best Christmas.”

Euphemia’s smile was full of warmth and assurance. “And I have no doubt you’ll do just that, my dear.”

* * *

The days leading up to Christmas flew by in a whirl of excitement and joy. James was over the moon to show his friends what life was like at his home. His parents treated them with the same warmth and kindness they always showed James—full of smiles, laughter, and fun. Having Remus and Sirius there made James realise just how lucky he was. It was clear why he was different from his friends: he was overflowing with love and confidence, while Remus had grown up with neither. And Sirius, well, it was evident why he fit so seamlessly into the Potter household—he had an unquenchable thirst for affection, and they had an endless supply.

The boys roamed the snowy countryside, their Gryffindor scarves, hats, and gloves making them look like a row of cheerful snowmen. Evenings were spent in competitive card games, helping Euphemia with dinner, and listening to Fleamont’s ghost stories by the crackling fire. They made mince pies, paper chains, and built snow wizards. By night, they slept so soundly that even a Howler wouldn’t have disturbed their rest.

But, as with most fairy tales, this blissful interlude couldn’t last forever. Although the Blacks had ceased their Howlers, they hadn’t forgotten their wayward son. On Christmas Eve, they tried a new tactic, one with devastating consequences for the Marauders.

They were nestled on the hearth rug, enjoying warm Butterbeer. Fleamont was teaching Remus chess, while James and Sirius were deeply engrossed in a game of Gobstones. The fire crackled merrily, and the Christmas lights cast a soft, golden glow over the room. It was dark outside, and the clock had just struck nine. Euphemia was hinting that it was bedtime when a loud, unmistakable CRACK sounded from outside the window.

James’s parents exchanged concerned glances. James shot them a look of his own. Though they were used to unexpected visitors, their door was always open to those in need, the Apparition’s light had not been the usual white but an ominous black. There was a firm, hollow knock at the door.

“Weren’t expecting anyone, were we, Effie?” Fleamont asked, turning towards the entryway. Euphemia shook her head, a frown creasing her brow. Both paused to listen as their house-elf, Gully, scampered to answer it. There were muffled voices in the hall before Gully hurried back in, wringing his hands in distress.

“Oh, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, she’s come for young master Black, she says she’s his mother! I told them to wait for you.” The elf’s anxiety was palpable.

Sirius and James exchanged worried glances. Sirius was as pale as a ghost, looking as if he might be sick. “She wouldn’t…” he whispered, his voice lacking conviction.

Fleamont was already out the door, and raised voices could be heard in the hallway—James recognised Mrs. Black’s sharp, unmistakable tone from her dreadful letters.

“Sirius,” Euphemia said gently, “Did your parents give you permission to visit us?” Sirius was frozen, unable to respond. Euphemia sighed, her voice filled with pity. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don’t make him leave, Mum!” James burst out. “He hates them!”

“They’re his parents, James,” Euphemia replied softly.

“Sirius!” Fleamont called from the hall.

Sirius stood rigid. James and his mum followed him into the hall, with Remus trailing behind. James wanted to scream at them to stop, to protect Sirius from whatever was coming. Howlers were one thing, but he’d witnessed the cruelty of Walburga Black firsthand. He wanted to grab Sirius and whisk him far away, but he feared that might make things worse.

As they filed into the hall, James took in Mrs. Black for the first time. She looked even more terrifying than her letters suggested. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, fixed with an emerald pin, and her eyes were dark, not quite as blue as Sirius’s, but still carrying that superior Black family look. Shorter than his dad, she managed to project an air of disdain as though James and Remus were nothing more than dust beneath her boots. Her gaze sharpened as she saw the two newcomers.

“Sirius,” she said, her voice cold and menacing, “You will come with me at once. Kreacher!” She snapped her fingers, and a withered old house-elf emerged from the folds of her robes. “Go upstairs and fetch Master Black’s things.” Kreacher bowed deeply, kissing the silver-capped toes of his mistress’s pointed boots before scurrying up the stairs.

“Good evening, Walburga,” Euphemia said, trying to sound pleasant despite the tension. “May I offer you a drink? We were just about to enjoy some mince pies, weren’t we, boys?”

Mrs. Black ignored her entirely, her eyes drilling into Sirius. 

“Put on your cloak. We’re leaving now.”

Sirius, breaking from his frozen state, stood tall. “But mother, I—”

“Don’t you dare speak to me,” she hissed, her eyes flashing. James instinctively stepped in front of Sirius, as if his mere presence could shield his friend. His rational mind knew he stood no chance against this formidable woman, but he was ready to be physically ripped away from Sirius if it meant keeping him safe.

“Walburga, why not let him stay?” Euphemia pleaded. “He’s been a bit naughty, but there’s no harm done. We could keep him for lunch and send him back before dinner tomorrow. They’ve all been having such a lovely time.”

Mrs. Black let out a short, mirthless laugh, as if her son’s enjoyment was inconsequential. She looked James up and down, then fixed her gaze on Remus, noting the fresh scar. James put an arm protectively in front of Remus, his brown eyes boring into Mrs. Black’s with silent defiance. Don’t you dare touch them.

Kreacher returned, followed by an indignant Gully, who had Sirius’s packed trunk in tow. Walburga turned to her son.

“Come along, Sirius.”

“No,” Sirius’ voice was quiet but resolute. His eyes were filled with determination and rage. “I want to stay here, with the Potters. You can’t make me—”

“SILENCIO!” Walburga’s wand flicked sharply, and Sirius was abruptly silenced. His mouth moved soundlessly, his eyes wide with horror. Euphemia gasped, and James reached out, grabbing Sirius’s hand tightly. 

“He’s just a boy!” Fleamont’s voice trembled with outrage.

“He is my son,” Walburga purred, her gaze icy. “And he is heir to the finest house in Britain. He will learn his place. Come, Sirius.”

James gripped Sirius’s arms, but the sadness in Sirius’s eyes made him relent. Sirius squared his shoulders, hugged Euphemia tightly, then gave James and Remus a small, resigned wave. James regretted letting go as he watched Sirius follow his mother out the door, his heart aching.

As the front door slammed shut, the four of them stood in heavy silence. James wondered if Remus felt as ashamed as he did—had they done enough to stand up for their friend? What would happen to Sirius now? His dad was seething with anger.

“Using a Silencing Charm on her own son! On an underage wizard! It’s morally reprehensible!”

“She does worse than that,” James said quietly. Remus nodded in agreement.

“We’ll need to make the house unplottable,” Euphemia said abruptly. “We can’t risk that dreadful woman finding us again. Fleamont, you were considering it after the last election, weren’t you?”

Fleamont nodded grimly. “I’ll look into it in the new year. Alastor Moody owes me a favour.”

“Bedtime, boys,” Euphemia said, her voice trembling. “Try not to worry too much.” She hugged James tightly, pressing kisses to his cheeks. Remus tried to slip away, but she pulled him into a fierce embrace as well. The warmth of her hug was a small comfort in the midst of the storm.

* * *

James tugged his pyjama shirt over his head, sending his already untamed hair into even more of a dishevelled mess. He stomped over to his mirror, desperately trying to smooth it down with no small measure of frustration. Normally, he couldn’t care less about his hair—it was a lost cause—but tonight, he needed something, anything, to control in his life.

Because you’re too bloody helpless to protect your best friend from his own mother!

His dark thoughts were interrupted by a light pat on the window. 

“Hattie?” he asked, opening the window and extending his arm for the owl to land on. In her beak was a small piece of parchment—its sender was a mystery to James.

After feeding Hattie a few crackers from his drawer, he let her fly off before flopping onto his bed to read the note. It was written in haste but with surprisingly neat handwriting.

Potter,

Sirius is home, do not try to contact him.

P.S. I mean it, Golden Boy. Don’t.

R.A.B.

James furrowed his brow, a whirlpool of emotions playing across his face. Relief at knowing Sirius was safe mingled with the gnawing worry that he wasn’t meant to contact him. It was a surprise to see a note from Regulus—James hadn’t expected that, particularly with the nickname. 

So, you do have a heart under all that icy exterior, Little Black.

Unable to contain his concern, James hurried out of his room and bumped into Remus, who had just come out of the bathroom.

“Psst. Remus,” James hissed, beckoning him into his room. They both clambered onto the bed. James fished the note out of his pyjama pocket. “Regulus sent this.”

“What’s it say?” Remus asked eagerly before James could even hand it over.

“Oh, um, it says, ‘Sirius is home, do not try to contact him.’”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” James nodded grimly, feeling oddly self-conscious about the nickname. 

“Nice of Regulus,” Remus remarked, squinting at the note. “Thought they hated each other.”

“Yeah, well, they’re still family, aren’t they?” James shrugged. “Family ties and all that.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“I don’t know.” James chewed his lip, troubled. “I never got to give him his present. He said he never gets anything Christmassy from his lot—just family heirlooms and the like.”

“I had a go at him the other day,” Remus sighed, his mood darkening. “About… well, you know, my furry little problem.”

James chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Don’t worry about it. You two are always bickering about something. It’s just your personalities.”

“Oh. Do you think so?” Remus looked slightly miffed by the observation, and James reached out to ruffle his hair, grinning.

“I told you, don’t worry about it. Black loves an argument.”

Christmas morning arrived with a quieter-than-usual excitement. James and his parents did their best to make it joyful, particularly for Remus. James practically skipped into Remus’s room, leaving a bulging stocking at the foot of his bed.

Inside were socks and underpants from Remus’s Matron, a tin of shortbread, some Chocolate Frogs from Peter, and a hefty book of advanced charms from Sirius. James had bought a book too—Conjurers Cartography: A Guide to Magical Mapmaking. His parents had gone all out with their gifts: more sweets, practical jokes, a set of beautiful quills (which they insisted Remus to  keep despite his protests), and a new pair of pyjamas. James could hardly keep his grin from spreading as he watched Remus unwrap his presents. He was so absorbed in his friend’s happiness that he barely noticed his own gifts.

By midday, James’s extended family began arriving for Christmas lunch, along with the Pettigrews and Peter’s elder sister, Philomena, who had brought her Muggle boyfriend home from university. James made an effort to include Remus, introducing him as one of his best friends. Most of the guests seemed uninterested after the introductions, except for one ancient, rosy-nosed wizard, who had clearly had more than his share of Gully’s festive drinks.

“Lupin, you say? Not Lyall Lupin’s boy?”

Remus gaped, too stunned to respond. 

“Um… yes,” he finally managed, his cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson.

“Is he here?!” The wizard’s face lit up, “Excellent fellow, haven’t seen him in years.”

“Er… he’s dead,” Remus said with a apologetic shrug.

“Damn shame!” The wizard exclaimed, sloshing his drink, “Fine dueller; taught me everything I know about Boggarts. Had a bit of a temper though—told him not to mess about with that Greyback chap. Bloody werewolves, ought to exterminate the lot of them!”

Remus blinked, looking bewildered. James watched him with concern before his dad intervened.

“Darius? Have another drink, old man. Let the young ones get back to their games, eh?”

James squeezed Remus’s shoulder reassuringly as they returned to the Gobstones tournament, trying to pretend that nothing had happened. The laughter and clattering of game pieces helped them both forget the awkward encounter, if only for a while.

Chapter Text

Saturday 6th January 1973

James, Peter, and Remus arrived at King’s Cross on the Saturday before term began, their spirits high with the anticipation of returning to Hogwarts. The bustling station was alive with students and families, but as they scanned the platform, it became evident that Sirius was missing. So too was Regulus. With the train’s departure imminent, James's determination to find out what had happened to his friend became a roaring fire in his chest.

Storming down the narrow corridor of the Hogwarts Express, James felt the train sway slightly with its motion. Students chatted animatedly and laughter echoed through the compartments, a stark contrast to his growing sense of urgency. Finally, he reached the compartment where Narcissa Black was seated, her aristocratic air an immediate deterrent.

He rapped sharply on the door, and it slid open to reveal Narcissa with an expression of barely concealed irritation. Her eyes, cold and disapproving, fixed on him.

“What do you want, Potter?” she drawled, her tone suggesting she found his presence an inconvenience.

“I need to know what happened to Sirius. Why isn’t he here?” James demanded, his voice firm despite the churning frustration within him.

Narcissa raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her disdain evident. “Why would you care? It’s Black family business. Nothing to do with someone like you.”

James’s jaw tightened. “He’s our friend. We have a right to know what’s going on.”

Narcissa’s eyes narrowed, and a cruel smirk played at her lips. “Deserve? Blood traitors like you have no right to interfere in our affairs. Sirius is dealing with the consequences of his actions.”

A surge of anger built up inside James, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Consequences? What happened?”

Narcissa sighed dramatically, clearly losing patience. “It’s none of your concern, Potter. Just accept that Sirius won’t be joining you anytime soon. Perhaps you should focus on your own pitiful existence.”

Frustration bubbled over, and James pressed on. “Tell me. What did they do to him?”

Narcissa’s lips curved into a malicious smile. “You should really learn to mind your own business, Potter.”

With a sharp flick of her wand, a jolt of magic shot out, striking James squarely on the nose. A searing pain erupted, and he stumbled back, clutching his face as a large, painful boil began to form. Narcissa’s laughter followed him as he retreated, her parting words sharp and contemptuous.

“That should teach you a lesson, blood traitor. Stay away from Sirius and out of Black affairs.”

Wincing with every step, James made his way back to where Peter and Remus were waiting. He slumped down beside them, hands still pressed against his sore nose.

“Narcissa said it’s none of my business,” he muttered, trying to ignore the throbbing pain.

“Maybe they’re using the Floo Network,” Peter suggested, trying to sound optimistic. “Maybe his mum didn’t trust him to get on the train with us.”

“Maybe,” James replied, his gaze fixed out the window as he rubbed his nose. He was struggling to hide his disappointment. Missing Sirius felt like losing a part of himself, and the excitement of the journey had dwindled into a painful void. Remus and Peter made valiant efforts to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to lift the weight pressing down on him.

Sirius’s absence was even more pronounced at dinner that evening. By the time they were getting ready for bed, Sirius still hadn’t shown. James and Remus had brought back his Christmas presents, carefully piled on top of his pillow. The bright wrapping paper and ribbons, once festive, now seemed to mock their friend’s absence. Three of the gifts were from Andromeda, and Remus was convinced they were albums—Sirius had been quite clear about his desire for anything by David Bowie.

James sat on his bed, staring at the gifts with a heavy heart. The anticipation of sharing their holiday cheer with Sirius had turned into a quiet, aching sadness. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was dreadfully wrong, and the pile of presents only seemed to underscore the absence of his friend.

* * *

Sunday 7th January 1973

On Sunday morning, the bed remained stubbornly empty, and the three Marauders sat around their dormitory, desperately trying to distract themselves with homework. Remus had already finished his and was now deeply engrossed in his Christmas books, the excitement of new magical knowledge brightening his mood. James, however, paced the room like a caged animal, his nerves fraying with each step. The tension in his chest was unbearable, and he needed answers—starting with Professor McGonagall.

He rapped sharply on her office door, his heart pounding with both anticipation and anxiety.

“Come in,” came McGonagall’s voice from inside, firm yet inviting.

James stepped into the office, meeting the stern gaze of his Transfiguration professor. The room was filled with an air of stern efficiency, much like McGonagall herself.

“Mr. Potter,” she greeted him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his troubled expression. “What can I do for you?”

James hesitated, grappling with how to frame his concern. Finally, he burst out, “It’s Sirius. He’s not back, and no one seems to know where he is. I’m worried. Do you know anything?”

McGonagall’s expression softened with sympathy, though her eyes remained steady. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Potter. I understand your concern, but sometimes students face personal matters that are best dealt with privately.”

James ran a frustrated hand through his already dishevelled hair. “But he’s my friend. I can’t just stand by not knowing if he’s okay.”

McGonagall’s gaze softened further. “I appreciate your loyalty, Mr. Potter. I assure you that I will inquire discreetly. But you must trust that the faculty will handle the situation appropriately.”

James took off his glasses and pinched his nose out of habit, wincing slightly as the irritation from the previous day’s boil flared up again. 

“Mr. Potter, what happened to your nose?” McGonagall asked, her stern expression momentarily giving way to genuine concern.

“It’s nothing, Professor,” James replied hastily, not wanting to drag McGonagall into the Black family’s murky affairs. “Just a minor mishap during a prank gone wrong. No big deal.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “Potter, you do have a talent for attracting trouble, don’t you?”

“Well, Professor, you could also argue that trouble has a knack for finding me.”

McGonagall sighed, shaking her head with a hint of what almost looked like fondness. With a flick of her wand, she cast a Healing Spell that made the irritation on his nose subside almost instantly. James winced at the sudden warmth but felt the discomfort ease.

“Thank you, Professor,” he said, rubbing his nose gingerly before putting his glasses back on. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“See that you are,” McGonagall advised, her eyes lingering on him. “And Mr. Potter, please exercise caution when dealing with the matters of other families. Not everything is as it seems, especially in these delicate situations.”

“I understand,” James muttered, though he found little solace in her words. “I just need to know he’s okay.”

McGonagall nodded sympathetically. “Sometimes, patience is the best course of action. Now, if there’s nothing else, you should return to your studies.”

Outside McGonagall’s office, James hesitated for a moment before deciding to take matters into his own hands. He moved purposefully through the castle, his steps echoing in the empty corridors. He couldn’t sit idly by waiting for Sirius’s return—Narcissa was the only Black currently present in the castle; surely she knew more than she was letting on.

As James approached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, he spotted Narcissa about to enter. Her scowl deepened at the sight of him.

“What do you want now, Potter?” she sneered, her voice dripping with annoyance.

Ignoring her disdain, James pressed on. “Narcissa, please. I need to know where Sirius is. You must have some idea.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes, clearly growing impatient. “I already told you, it’s none of your business. Leave it be.”

James, undeterred, shot back, “It’s my friend we’re talking about. I can’t just ‘leave it be.’ What happened to Sirius? Where is he?”

Narcissa’s eyes flashed with irritation. “Sirius has brought this upon himself. If you care so much, perhaps you should question the company he keeps.”

Frustration boiled over in James. “Fine, forget about Sirius for a moment. What about Regulus? If Sirius did something wrong, shouldn’t he be here too?”

Narcissa’s expression hardened, her protectiveness palpable. “Regulus has nothing to do with this. Keep his name out of your mouth.”

James pressed on, “At least Regulus would tell me the truth. He’s already—”

Narcissa’s patience snapped. “Stay away from Regulus, Potter. Sirius might be a lost cause, but I won’t let your blood traitor influence reach my youngest cousin.”

Before James could respond, Narcissa cast another curse. A sharp, stinging pain surged through his wrist, a crack echoing in his ears. He winced but clenched his teeth, determined not to show weakness.

Defeated, James turned away, clutching his injured wrist. The dungeons seemed to close in on him, the weight of worry and pain making each step heavier. As he ascended to the surface, his only coherent thought was that he needed to get out, to breathe, to escape the suffocating worry. 

He hurried back to the Gryffindor Tower, giving Remus a terse recap of the events without allowing for any follow-up questions. Then he grabbed his broomstick and headed out again, seeking solace in the open sky.

The Quidditch pitch stretched out before him, a vast expanse of freedom and open sky. His broom cut through the air with a frantic energy, mirroring the turmoil within him. The reckless dives and daring manoeuvres were a desperate attempt to escape the worry that clung to him like a shadow.

A voice from below called out, snapping him from his spiral of self-doubt. Marlene, broom in hand, stood on the pitch with a concerned expression. “Potter, you’re flying like a lunatic. Come down before you hurt yourself. We can practice some laps together.”

Grateful for the distraction, James descended rapidly, the broom responding to his commands. However, as he attempted a sharp turn, a jolt of pain shot through his wrist. Losing control, he tumbled off the broom and crashed onto the grass below.

Marlene rushed over, her concern evident as she helped him up. “Merlin, Potter! I’ve never seen you fall off a broom before. What happened?”

James winced, trying to downplay the pain. “Just a clumsy moment. No big deal.”

But Marlene was not easily deterred. “Clumsy? You? Come on, what’s really going on?”

James clutched his wrist, attempting to hide the swelling and bruising. “Just a bruise, nothing to worry about,” he muttered, hoping to brush off her concern.

Marlene raised an eyebrow, “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” she remarked, not buying his story.

Instead of pressing him further, she grabbed him by the elbow and gently pulled him down to sit on the grass. She took out her wand and met his gaze, her stormy grey eyes filled with a newfound softness.

“Will you let me help you?”

He nodded, pushing his glasses up with his uninjured hand.

Marlene gave him a reassuring nod before focusing on his wrist, casting a Healing Spell. Her concentration and care reminded him of his mother’s gentle touch. “Where’d you learn to do that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I’ve picked up a few Healing Spells from my brother. He plays Quidditch too, and, you know, injuries happen,” Marlene explained, her focus unwavering.

As she worked her magic, James winced but felt the pain gradually ease. “Well, you’re good at it. Thank you.”

She looked up, giving him a soft smile. “You’re welcome, Jamie.”

The nickname took James by surprise, but he couldn’t help but smile in return.

As Marlene finished healing his wrist, Peter arrived at the Quidditch pitch, a box of biscuits in hand. His eyes widened with concern upon seeing James on the grass.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Peter asked, flicking his gaze between James and Marlene.

Marlene helped James to his feet and turned to face Peter. James hesitated, not wanting to burden him with the full details. Sensing his reluctance, Marlene jumped in with a grin. “Oh, just a little Quidditch mishap. Nothing to worry about.”

“Mishap? Are you hurt, James?”

James shot Marlene a grateful look. “Nah, I’m fine. Marlene here was just helping me out.”

Peter’s gaze lingered on James’s wrist. “You sure?”

James nodded. “Absolutely. You don’t have to worry about me, Pete.”

Peter’s concern didn’t entirely fade, but Marlene stepped forward. “Since you’re here, Peter, how about you referee a few training laps?”

Peter’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Referee? Sure, I can do that. But if anything hurts, James, you tell me, alright?”

James nodded, ruffling his dishevelled blond hair as Peter handed him a biscuit. The shorter boy hurried towards the stands, eager to assume his new role as referee. James turned to Marlene, a genuine, grateful smile spreading across his face.

“Thanks for that, I owe you one.”

Marlene’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “Good. I do rather enjoy having friends who are in my debt.”

James raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Oh, so we’re friends now?”

To his surprise, a pink hue blossomed across her slightly freckled cheeks. James found it rather charming, and, in a rare moment of boldness, he reached out to drape an arm around her shoulders. But her reflexes were swifter than his intentions, and she gave him a playful shove.

“Tosser,” she said, her eyes rolling with a mix of exasperation and amusement. A playful smile tugged at her lips.

Without another word, she kicked off from the ground, her broomstick slicing through the air with effortless grace. James, feeling a rush of exhilaration, took off after her.

The wind whipped through his hair, and for the first time that day, he let out a genuine laugh.

* * *

Monday 8th January 1973

The next morning, James awoke to the welcome news that Sirius had returned during the night. Relief washed over him, only to be tempered by the frustrating fact that Sirius had already left before any of them had stirred. His Christmas presents, still wrapped with bright paper and ribbons, were pushed to the end of his bed. His trunk had arrived, and his broom was neatly tucked away on its shelf. James had saved him a seat at breakfast, but Sirius never showed up. The empty seat beside him felt like an ominous void, and they didn’t catch sight of him until their first lesson.

“He wouldn’t miss McGonagall,” James said with a false confidence as they pressed towards the classroom. “He adores Transfiguration.”

But when they entered the room, their confidence was shattered. Another boy was seated in Sirius’s usual spot. He was small, hunched over, with an unnerving pallor and piercing blue eyes. His hair was shorn close to his scalp, reminiscent of Remus's post-summer look, though darker.

“Who’s that?!” Peter whispered loudly, his eyes widening.

The boy turned to look at them, and James's heart dropped.

“Sirius!” James gaped.

Sirius blushed faintly, avoiding their gazes as though he hadn’t seen them at all. James slid into the seat beside him, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in his chest.

“What happened? Where have you been? What did she do to you?!”

Sirius shook his head. “Later,” he murmured. Other students were trickling in, stopping to gawk. James wished he could conjure a cloak of invisibility to shield his friend from prying eyes.

As the classroom filled up, whispers swirled behind their backs. James wanted to scream at them to stop, though he was guilty of staring as well. It wasn’t just the lack of hair—though that was disconcerting, Sirius simply wasn’t Sirius without his trademark locks. The dark circles under his eyes and the absence of his usual smirk added to the disquieting transformation.

“Alright, settle down, please!” McGonagall’s stern voice cut through the chatter as she swept into the room. Sirius stared fixedly at his desk, while James, hands clenched, gently massaged the back of his friend’s neck, careful not to touch the exposed skin of his scalp.

McGonagall wasted no time launching into the day’s lesson. She didn’t call on Sirius once, which was unusual given that his answers usually kept him engaged. Nor did she bother the other Marauders, who exchanged worried glances throughout the lesson. When Transfiguration finally ended, they packed up their things and followed Sirius out of the classroom with an urgency that spoke of unspoken concern.

“What happened?!” James demanded again as they reached the corridor. Sirius gritted his teeth.

“I said later,” Sirius replied tersely. “Wait until break, alright?”

“But you—what did she—?”

“I’m fine.”

James’s frustration flared, but he didn’t relent. Throughout their History of Magic lesson, he passed Sirius note after note, each one more frantic than the last. Sirius ignored them, his attention unwaveringly fixed on his book. The second the bell rang, signalling the end of class, James seized Sirius’s arm and practically dragged him out to the courtyard, shooing away a group of first-year girls who were idly chatting nearby. The air was biting cold, the sky an unforgiving shade of grey, and a storm loomed on the horizon.

Once they were alone, James fixed Sirius with a stare that could have melted stone. His eyes were dark with concern, and his brow was etched in deep creases.

“What happened?!”

Sirius sighed, clearly exhausted by the intensity of James’s gaze. He gestured to his head, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation.

“What’s it look like?” he asked. James’s entire focus was on Sirius. It was as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of shared worry.

“Your mum did that?”

“Well, I didn’t do it myself, did I?!” Sirius snapped. James remained unfazed, his patience steadfast. He understood Sirius's temperament all too well, and knew that the best approach was to wait it out. Sirius rummaged in his bag and pulled out his red Gryffindor hat, which had remained unworn until now. He shoved it over his shorn head with a muttered, “Bloody freezing. Don’t know how you cope, Lupin.”

Remus shrugged, a small, understanding smile on his face. Sirius leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the ground, lost in thought. James, ever the observer, recognised the underlying tension and frustration in his friend’s posture.

“They let me come back,” Sirius said quietly, his voice tinged with a mixture of relief and bitterness. “They almost didn’t—one more misstep and they’d have sent me to Durmstrang.”

James and Peter both gasped, their eyes widening in shock. Sirius continued, his voice carrying the weight of his ordeal.

“I didn’t get my voice back until Christmas dinner. Had to keep up appearances in front of everyone—except the Weasleys, of course. Lucius Malfoy was especially venomous, but he had to be nice to me and Reg—slimy creep. Managed to wear my Gryffindor tie until Mum noticed and vanished it. Then I… I might have set off a few Dungbombs during the fourth course.” He trailed off, and James fought the impulse to pull him into a hug.

“That’s why… the hair…?” James asked tentatively. Sirius looked up, his eyes reflecting the strain of his experience.

“She decided that since the usual punishments weren’t working, she’d try something new. I tried to get Pomfrey to regrow it for me, but she’s not exactly a beautician. Thought I’d done it myself by mistake or something.”

“You could tell her—” Remus began, but Sirius cut him off, shaking his head.

“Not worth it.”

“Regulus?” James asked, shifting the topic. “Is he back too? He sent us a note to let us know you were home, but we haven’t heard anything since.”

Sirius nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, he’s back. Kept his hair, obviously. Dad sorted out a Portkey into Hogsmeade. He’s still a bit of a tosser, but… he didn’t choose to be a Black, either. Just plays the game better than I do.” His eyes darted past them, filled with a desperate longing. James felt an ache in his chest at the sight. “I just wish…” Sirius began, but the words failed him. The bell rang, signalling the end of their brief respite, and they were ushered back to their lessons.

Chapter Text

By the end of their first day back at school, everyone knew about Sirius’s dramatic new look. It was impossible not to; the halls were buzzing with whispers, and heads turned as he walked past. To counter the stares and murmurs, James and Peter took to flanking him like bodyguards, glaring at anyone who dared to snigger or whisper. James, always ready to defend his mate, felt a fierce protectiveness brewing in his chest. If anyone dared to cross the line, they’d have to answer to him.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” James lied, watching as Sirius scrutinised his reflection in the cracked mirror of the empty second-floor girls’ loos. They’d chosen this hideaway during lunch to spare Sirius the relentless staring. 

But Sirius wasn’t fooled. James knew it, and he knew Sirius knew it too. The truth was, it did look bad. The absence of Sirius's dark, wild hair left him looking so much smaller, almost vulnerable. His eyes, now more prominent without the familiar curtain of hair, looked wide and anxious. The sharp angles of his cheekbones and the strong lines of his eyebrows were accentuated, giving him a gaunt, almost haunted look. It was no wonder everyone stared. The whole school seemed fixated on Sirius, so much so that barely anyone noticed Remus’s newly scarred face, which, under different circumstances, might have drawn attention. But there was a difference—Sirius’s hair would grow back. 

Sirius continued to stare at himself, his hand moving unconsciously to rub his shorn head. Peter let out a nervous laugh, trying to break the tension.

“You look like Lupin,” he said, with a weak attempt at humour.

James nodded eagerly, grasping at anything that might lift his friend’s spirits. “Yeah, you do a bit.”

For the first time since his return, Sirius cracked a smile. James felt a flicker of hope. He reached out, rubbing the short, bristly black hair on Sirius’s head, then did the same to the slightly longer brown tufts on Remus’s head.

“Oh yeah, I think I see it,” Sirius said, a touch of warmth returning to his voice. He reached out and pulled Remus into the mirror’s frame, so they stood side by side, staring at their reflections. “We could be brothers.”

Remus laughed, a sound that James hadn’t realised he missed so much until he heard it again. It was a laugh that warmed him from the inside out, like the first sip of hot chocolate after a long, cold Quidditch practice. 

But Sirius’s real brother was waiting outside the Gryffindor common room later that evening. As they approached, they spotted Regulus sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up, staring into space. His hair was still long enough to brush his shoulders, and his presence was almost as unexpected as it was unwelcome. Barty Crouch Jr., Regulus’s constant shadow, was leaning against the opposite wall, looking bored as he directed a paper aeroplane lazily up and down the hallway with his wand. Barty and Regulus were as inseparable as James and Sirius, though far less friendly. Barty, with his fair hair and weedy build, had a mean streak that was notorious—James could recognise him by his cruel, barking laugh alone.

Regulus stood as they approached, his chin lifting with a haughty air as he eyed them. Sirius scowled at him, and for a moment, the arrogant expression on Regulus’s face faltered.

“There you are,” Regulus said, his voice tinged with a nervousness that undermined his otherwise proud demeanour. His eyes kept flicking towards James, who met his gaze with a level stare. Barty’s paper aeroplane began circling them all, like a vulture.

“What d’you want?” Sirius asked gruffly, his arms folding across his chest. James tried to catch Regulus’s eye again, but the younger boy kept looking away, as if afraid of what he might see there.

“Just seeing if you’re… seeing how you are.”

“No different from last night.”

“I didn’t see you at dinner.”

“Wasn’t at dinner.” Sirius’s tone was curt, his posture defensive. James studied Regulus. The younger Black bore a striking resemblance to Sirius, yet was different in ways that went beyond mere appearance. They shared the same dark hair and pointed features, but while Sirius’s hair (usually) flowed freely, Regulus’s was shorter, more controlled, and his eyes—those ice-blue eyes—were nothing like Sirius’s deep, blue ones. Where Sirius was strikingly handsome, almost to the point of being intimidating, Regulus had a more subtle, unique look about him, one that was less about perfection and more about quiet intensity.

“Can I talk to you?” Regulus addressed his older brother, the words almost hesitant.

Sirius spread his arms wide, raising an eyebrow as if to say, “Well, go on then, we’re talking, aren’t we?” Regulus rolled his eyes, looking suddenly younger, more like the eleven-year-old he was. “I mean alone,” he clarified, shooting uncomfortable glances at James, Peter, and Remus.

“No.” Sirius’s voice was final, leaving no room for argument. Regulus sighed, knowing better than to push it.

Above their heads, Barty’s paper aeroplane was spinning faster, as if sensing the tension. James forced himself to ignore it, though his wand hand itched.

“Fine,” Regulus said, folding his arms in a way that was almost a mirror image of his brother. “I just wanted to let you know that Mother and Father asked me and Narcissa to watch you. And report back to them.”

Sirius snorted, the very mention of his parents making James feel sick. Sirius’s glare was cold, but Regulus held his ground, continuing, “And we’re not going to. We’re both staying out of it, okay?”

“How noble of you,” Sirius replied with a sneer. James couldn’t help but grin at his friend’s sarcasm. Regulus rolled his eyes again, clearly exasperated. “I’m telling you I’m not your enemy, idiot. Nor is Narcissa. You can do whatever you like, that’s between you and our parents.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

The two brothers stood there, locked in a silent standoff. If it had been James and Sirius, this would have ended with a playful punch to the arm or a cheeky grin, but Regulus was just as stubborn as Sirius. Neither of them seemed willing to back down, or even crack a smile.

“Ow!” The silence was shattered by Peter’s sudden yelp. James turned to find Barty giggling maliciously, clearly having grown bored of the brothers’ confrontation. His paper aeroplane had taken to dive-bombing Peter, its pointed tip jabbing at him. Barty was preparing for another attack when James decided enough was enough. He pulled out his wand with a swift, practised motion.

“Incendio,” he said lazily, flicking his wrist in Barty’s direction. The paper plane’s wings ignited instantly, sending it soaring towards Barty with terrifying speed. Barty let out a panicked cry, covering his face with his arms as the flaming projectile flew straight for him—only to fizzle out mid-air, crumbling into a harmless pile of ash and cinders inches from his nose. James’s eyes met Regulus’s for a fleeting moment, and he was surprised to see a glimmer of something that almost looked like… admiration?

Barty looked like he wanted to retaliate, but Regulus, with a calmness that was almost eerie, muttered, “Let it go.” He grabbed his friend’s arm, steering him away towards the dungeons. As they walked off, Regulus tossed a casual remark over his shoulder, “Narcissa said to tell you good luck for Saturday, Potter.” 

James blinked, surprised that Regulus had spoken to him directly, especially in front of others. But he decided not to acknowledge it, instead opting to follow Sirius through the portrait hole, staying close by his side.

Once they were all safely inside the common room, Remus asked, “What’s Saturday?”

“Quidditch match. Gryffindor versus Slytherin,” James replied promptly, his mind already shifting gears towards the game.

“I hope you thrash ‘em, mate,” Sirius muttered darkly as he collapsed into an armchair. James could feel the frustration radiating off him like heat from a fire.

“Plan to,” James said with forced cheerfulness, perching himself on the arm of Sirius’s chair. “As long as she doesn’t get the Snitch too early—and Marlene’s the best Beater we’ve had in years, so—” 

He cut himself off abruptly, realising too late what he’d said. Sirius groaned, and James mentally kicked himself. When would they be able to talk about Quidditch freely again? When would things go back to the way they were?

“I’m going to bed,” Sirius announced suddenly, pushing himself up from the chair. His tone was flat, drained of all its usual life and mischief. 

James watched him go, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. He wondered how long it would be before his best friend truly smiled again.

* * *

Saturday 13th January 1973

It had snowed overnight, blanketing the Hogwarts grounds in a pristine layer of white. But no weather was bad enough to cancel Quidditch. The Gryffindor common room buzzed with excitement that morning, as the team prepared for their match against Slytherin. Someone had declared that these were "perfect flying conditions," which might have been a bit of wishful thinking, given the frosty air. Still, Peter and Remus spent half the morning attempting to cast long-lasting Warming Spells on James’s kit, with varying degrees of success. Sirius, true to form, had vanished before dawn, leaving his friends to wonder what he was up to this time.

Adil Deshmukh, the Gryffindor Captain, had insisted that the team eat together at breakfast, separate from their usual crowd. So there they sat, all looking pale and a bit tired, staring into uniform bowls of porridge and fruit—Deshmukh’s orders, naturally. James was the only one who seemed to be in good spirits, despite the fact that the Warming Spell hadn’t quite done its job. 

Seated next to a weary-looking Marlene, James couldn’t resist fiddling with her sandy blonde ponytail as he tried to cheer her up. 

“Come on, Marley! It’s going to be a fantastic game, and we’re going to crush Slytherin!” he declared, his voice brimming with confidence.

Marlene pushed her porridge around her bowl with a spoon, looking less than convinced. “Easy for you to say, Sunshine. I feel like I’m freezing already.”

James shrugged, unfazed. “Don’t worry, we’ll warm up once we hit the pitch.”

Marlene sighed and glanced around the table. “Where’s Sirius? I only see Peter and Remus here.”

“Oh, he’ll show up,” James replied, unconcerned. “Sirius always makes a grand entrance. You’ll see.”

Trying to lighten the mood, James switched topics. “Speaking of attendance, will your friends be watching?”

Marlene’s eyes brightened a bit as she chuckled. “Yeah, they’ll be there. Lily’s even decked out in Gryffindor colours.”

At the mention of Lily, James couldn’t help but follow Marlene’s gaze down the table. His eyes locked onto Lily, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. Her fiery hair cascaded down her shoulders, the Gryffindor colours accentuating the warmth in her features. The vivid green of her eyes sparkled with a mix of determination and playfulness, and the sunlight filtering through the enchanted windows caught the subtle hints of gold in her hair, creating an almost ethereal glow.

James felt his heartbeat skip involuntarily, a subtle tightening in his chest. He quickly tried to shake it off, telling himself it was just the excitement of the upcoming game. Surely, that was all.

After breakfast, Deshmukh led the team down to the pitch, the snow crunching underfoot as they made their way toward the changing rooms. James, unable to contain his energy, was the first to get ready, pacing by the exit as he waited for the rest of the team. His attention was caught, however, by an unusual sight across the way. The Slytherins had their changing rooms right opposite, and there, standing in front of it, was Narcissa, resplendent in her emerald Quidditch robes, engaged in an animated conversation with Regulus.

Narcissa’s laughter echoed in the passageway as she playfully nudged Regulus. “Come on, Reggie, admit it. The Slytherin team could use a bit of your flair. I’ll talk to the Captain, make sure you get a spot next year. I know you’d make a great Seeker once I graduate.”

Regulus, usually so composed, actually seemed to be enjoying the banter. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and James, observing from a distance, raised an eyebrow, silently contemplating the dynamics at play. 

Regulus appeared different at that moment, less burdened somehow, with a spark of youthful enthusiasm in his eyes.

As Narcissa headed back inside the changing rooms, James unintentionally locked eyes with Regulus. For a moment, the passageway seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in silent acknowledgment. There was something unspoken in that shared gaze—a fleeting connection that James couldn’t quite decipher.

“Little Black, future Slytherin Seeker, eh?” James quipped, an impish grin spreading across his face. “Maybe we’ll be Quidditch rivals next year.”

Regulus seemed caught off guard, his gaze lingering for a moment longer. For an instant, it looked like he might actually join in the banter. The corners of his lips hinted at a potential smile, and James felt a flicker of hope.

“I doubt it’d be hard to outmatch you on the pitch,” Regulus responded, his tone measured but with a subtle edge.

James chuckled, appreciating the unexpected banter. “You know that’s not true. Have you seen me fly?”

But just as quickly, Regulus’s demeanour shifted. The playful glint in his eyes extinguished, replaced by a look of disdain as he reasserted the boundaries between them. With a dismissive glance, Regulus turned to make his way to the stands.

However, something tugged at James. He suddenly remembered what Regulus had done on Christmas, and he couldn’t resist calling out. “Hey, Regulus!” he called, catching the Slytherin’s attention. “Thank you, for sending that letter on Christmas—letting me know Sirius was okay. I really appreciated it.”

Regulus, ever guarded, attempted to brush off the acknowledgment with a casual shrug. “It was just a letter, Potter,” he replied nonchalantly.

James wasn’t ready to let it go that easily. “Still, you didn’t have to do that. I want to properly thank you.”

Regulus hesitated, his guard showing signs of wear. James persisted, a touch of good-hearted frustration in his voice. “Come on, Regulus, just accept the thank you.”

Finally relenting, Regulus muttered a begrudging, “You’re welcome.” James offered him a kind smile in return.

Regulus, however, remained wary. “Don’t smile at me like that,” he warned, his discomfort evident.

“Why not?” James asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know what it means,” Regulus admitted, a rare note of vulnerability in his voice.

James, in a moment of true sympathy, observed, “You’re really not used to people being nice to you, are you?”

Regulus, looking uncomfortable, shrugged it off. “Whatever, Golden Boy.”

James just offered a casual shrug and a half-smile, turning away to focus on the impending match. But the encounter lingered in his mind, and he realised with a bit of surprise that this was the first time he’d ever seen Regulus Black smile.

Some moments later, the two Quidditch teams gathered on the pitch, where enough snow had been cleared for them to make a path from their changing rooms. They stood in two neat rows—one scarlet, one emerald. James ran his hand through his messy dark hair, Marlene standing beside him with her fluffy sandy blonde ponytail. Across from him stood Narcissa, tall and willowy in her Slytherin robes, her platinum hair woven into two neat braids that reached halfway down her back.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the players mounted their brooms, squatting low, ready to kick off.

With a second blast of the whistle, she released the Snitch, and the players shot into the air like red and green cannonballs.

James immediately scanned the crimson part of the stands, quickly spotting Lily’s fiery hair. She was sitting next to Remus and Peter, and he couldn’t help but grin and wave at them. But his smile faltered slightly when he noticed that Sirius still wasn’t with them.

Determined not to let it distract him, James focused on the game. With a swift motion, he dived for the Quaffle, gaining possession within seconds of being in the air and sending it through the hoop in under a minute. The red-clad crowd exploded with triumph, only to be overshadowed by a deafening noise like a thunderclap.

“Rrrrrroooooaaaaar!”

“What was that?!” Marlene shouted from her broom, wide-eyed like the rest of the players, who all looked equally startled. James glanced up and saw that the lions on the Gryffindor banners above them appeared to have come to life, prowling back and forth across the red material, growling and tossing their heads restlessly.

“This is amazing!” James laughed, thrilled by the spectacle.

“Look!” Marlene pointed down below them.

At the bottom of the spectators’ stands, nearest the ground, a young Gryffindor in bright red robes was also stalking back and forth, waving his wand like a conductor’s baton. It had to be Sirius—who else had that over-confident strut?—but he was no longer bald. Instead, he had donned an enormous golden wig, like a lion’s mane. James thought he could even see a gold tail dragging behind from under his robes.

Once everyone had seen him, the crowd erupted into laughter—even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. But the Slytherins weren’t amused; they merely glared at the garish show of House pride.

James wasn’t distracted in the slightest by the new mascots—if anything, they spurred him on. Clearly, that was Sirius’s intention. With renewed vigour, he tore through the air, scoring three more goals in quick succession. Each one triggered another ferocious roar from the enchanted lions, leaving the Slytherins scrambling to recover from the surprise.

“We are Gryffindor!” Sirius’s magically amplified voice boomed across the pitch.

“Mighty Mighty Gryffindor!” The crowd responded with deafening enthusiasm, their voices echoing in unison.

After a while, the noise faded into the background for James, his focus razor-sharp. He was like a red streak, zigzagging through the air, executing intricate formations with the other Chasers, who were just as sharp. Marlene, bat in hand, was doing a brilliant job—protecting her teammates with well-placed Bludgers, particularly aimed at Narcissa.

Narcissa, though, was a force to be reckoned with. She flew with an elegance and smoothness that reminded James of Sirius. Quick and ever-moving, she was like water, slipping through their defences with deceptive ease. The Gryffindor Seeker was tailing her, hoping she’d lead him to the Snitch, but she kept dodging and feinting, throwing him off course—twice sending him straight into the path of a Bludger. She wasn’t flashy like James, but efficient and ruthless.

Still, James thought with a swell of pride, she was no match for them today. Gryffindor pulled ahead by fifty points, then seventy, and then a hundred. When Maisy Jackson, another Gryffindor Chaser, scored a goal to bring their total to 130, leaving Slytherin at a meagre 20 points, the crowd erupted. Sirius, not one to be outdone, waved his wand with even more enthusiasm. This time, the lions not only roared—they leapt clear through the banners and into the winter air, transforming into golden shadows that strode across the pitch. The Gryffindor Seeker dived to avoid them, clearly terrified, though they vanished just above his head.

“No, you idiot!” Sirius bellowed, his voice still magically amplified.

But it was too late—Narcissa seized the moment, swooping in to capture the Snitch. She soared above the crowd, holding it aloft with triumph. The Slytherin stands exploded with cheers and green and silver sparks, chanting:

“Black, Black, Black!”

Of course, it was a bit confusing, considering the Gryffindors were also chanting:

“Black, Black, Black!” As Sirius took his bow before the crowd. James swooped down beside him, ruffling his friend’s ridiculous golden mane, and the crowd quickly switched to:

“Pot-ter! Pot-ter! Pot-ter!”

Sirius, ever the showman, urged James to take a bow as well, which he did, laughing all the while.

As the students spilled out onto the pitch, buzzing with excitement, Remus and Peter came charging down from the stands. They both took turns punching Sirius playfully on the arm, exclaiming:

“You never told us!”

“We could have helped!”

Sirius merely smirked and tossed his absurd golden hair, clearly pleased with himself.

“Sirius!” A thin, cold voice cut through the crowd. They all turned to see Narcissa striding towards them, her emerald robes billowing, a bright silver medal hanging around her neck. The sight made Remus shrink back behind Peter, which was rather amusing given the height difference. Sirius stood his ground as she approached, a smirk playing on her lips. “Take off that obscene wig,” she demanded.

Sirius complied, rubbing his now bare head self-consciously. James watched Narcissa closely, his heart skipping a beat as she pulled out her wand and pointed it at Sirius. With a swift motion, she tapped his head and uttered, “Crescere.”

The Marauders, along with the surrounding Gryffindors, gasped as Sirius’s hair began to grow—black curls tumbling down like water until it was back to its usual length.

“What the—?!” Sirius reached up, his fingers running through the familiar black curls. Narcissa simply grinned.

“That’s for your help in ensuring a Slytherin victory,” she said with a smirk, before turning on her heel, her silver plaits whipping around as she flounced off towards her team.

James couldn’t resist reaching over and tugging on one of Sirius’s curls, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “I’m never going to understand your bonkers family, mate.”

Chapter Text

After the legendary Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match, time seemed to speed up for James. Part of it was because their dormitory had regained its usual balance. James was back to being the hero, Sirius’s rebellious streak had returned with full force, Peter was no longer treading carefully around them, and Remus, well, Remus had no peace at all—though he hardly complained. It was clear that things were finally back to normal.

So, James and Sirius resumed their usual mischief-making. They raided the kitchens, planted ink-spraying quills between the pages of library books, and scattered Dungbombs throughout the dungeons with alarming frequency. They spent half their time under the Invisibility Cloak, either pranking unsuspecting students or exploring the castle, adding more details to the Marauder's Map. Trips to Honeydukes became a regular occurrence—so much so that James started to grow tired of Chocolate Frogs, which he never thought possible. Peter often tried to join in, but Remus insisted he needed all the sleep he could get, claiming it was necessary for his “academic pursuits.”

James, however, was just thrilled to have Sirius back to his old self. The two of them were inseparable, thick as thieves. Any time not spent executing pranks was devoted to scheming up new ones. Even Peter was getting better at it; one night, he managed to distract Filch by pretending he’d been locked in a closet by Peeves—a stroke of genius that earned him much praise from his mates.

Remus, on the other hand, seemed to have retreated into his books. He was spending more time in the library, which had once been a place he avoided like the plague. It wasn’t the same as last year, though—he wasn’t using schoolwork as an excuse to ditch them, and he still joined in on pranks occasionally. But it was clear that he cared about his grades, determined not to slack off. James didn’t mind Remus doing his own thing, really. It was actually quite convenient to have someone to rely on for notes or homework when they’d been out late Marauding. The only thing that bothered James, gnawing at him like a persistent itch, was that Remus wasn’t alone during these library sessions. 

Every time James passed the library, he’d see Remus surrounded by girls—Lily, Mary, and Marlene. James liked Marlene well enough. She was quiet but had a wicked sense of humor that caught him off guard. Mary, he didn’t know too well, but she seemed like a good laugh, always smiling and chuckling at something. But Lily… Lily was a different story. Every time James saw her leaning in close to Remus, sharing a textbook or lending him a quill, he felt an irrational urge to march over there and push Remus away. It was so unlike him that it made James feel a bit guilty for even thinking it.

Not all of James’s time was devoted to mischief, though. There were still classes to attend and assignments to (sort of) complete—Quidditch remained a constant, and Peter had his chess, while Remus buried himself in academia.

But, it was after a particularly grueling Quidditch practice that James found his thoughts wandering to a more pressing matter—Sirius’s impending engagement. While Sirius seemed content to ignore it, hoping it would just disappear, James couldn’t shake the growing anxiety that gnawed at him as January slipped into February. If they didn’t do something soon, summer would arrive, and Sirius would be standing at an altar at a wedding James wouldn’t be invited to.

As the Quidditch pitch began to empty, the Gryffindor Chasers wrapping up their extra practice, James, lost in thought, almost collided with someone emerging from the shadows. To his surprise, it was Regulus, watching the practice with a level of intensity that caught James off guard.

“What are you doing here, Little Black?” James asked, genuinely curious. “Slytherin isn’t on the schedule.”

Regulus, with a typically aloof air, replied, “I watch all the teams. Helps me prepare for next year.”

James raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “You’re dedicated. I used to do that last year, too, before I made the team.”

A moment of quiet settled between them. James couldn’t help but be impressed by Regulus’s determination; it was a stark contrast to Sirius, who was currently avoiding the very thing that was threatening to derail his life. The thought reminded James of what had been troubling him before he ran into the younger Black, and before he could stop himself, he broached the more sensitive topic.

“Hey, about Sirius and Narcissa… is there anything I can do to help? Maybe talk to your parents, smooth things over?”

Regulus’s cold demeanor returned in an instant. “It’s Sirius’s problem. He should’ve thought about that before acting up.”

James, eager to defend Sirius, began, “It’s not just—”

Regulus cut him off sharply. “And a lot of his disobedience comes from hanging around with you, Golden Boy.”

James tried to brush off the jab, though it stung more than he let on. “But, Regulus, he’s your brother. Can’t you at least talk to your parents? Help him out.”

Regulus’s voice was chilling as he retorted, “Sirius has done a poor job of showing that lately.”

Frustration flared within James, but he wasn’t one to back down. “Please, just try, Little Black. For Sirius.”

For a brief moment, James thought he saw a flicker of something in Regulus’s eyes—uncertainty, maybe even fear. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Regulus straightened up, his walls back in place, and with a tone that brooked no argument, he said, “Sirius can handle his own mess. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait!” The frustration was heavy in James’s voice as he reached out, grabbing Regulus’s arm to stop him. Regulus flinched, looking up at James with those icy blue eyes that, for a fleeting second, seemed almost… scared. James was momentarily taken aback but pressed on, determined.

“Regulus, look at it this way. Do you really want Narcissa to marry Sirius?” he asked, hoping for a crack in the cold facade.

Regulus’s icy demeanor shattered in a burst of frustration. “Of course not!” he snapped. “But it doesn’t matter what I want. You don’t say ‘no’ to Orion and Walburga Black. You’d do well to understand that if you want to keep being friends with Sirius. Stop living in a fantasy world, Golden Boy.” With those words, Regulus yanked his arm free from James’s grip and stalked off, leaving James standing there, feeling more frustrated than ever.

Shaking off the unsuccessful encounter, James headed back to the common room, stopping by the Great Hall to pick up Peter from his chess club. As they climbed through the portrait hole, they found Sirius sitting in the common room, hunched over a piece of parchment, furiously scribbling away. Sirius beckoned them over, and when James saw what he was working on—a list of potion ingredients—he groaned.

“Ugh, not homework!” James complained, flopping down on the couch beside Sirius. “Bloody Lupin’s bad enough; don’t tell me you’re turning into a swot too!”

Sirius gave him a playful shove. “Oh, ye of little faith! This isn’t homework—it’s our next mission.”

James perked up immediately. “Really? A new prank?”

Peter, looking slightly uneasy, sank into one of the cosy armchairs. “But we just did that one with the levitation last week…”

“No, no,” Sirius waved a hand dismissively, moving the book from his lap to the table so they could all crowd around it. “This is much more important. It’s for Remus.”

James and Peter leaned in, listening intently as Sirius explained his idea, growing more animated with each word. He detailed his research, the inspiration that struck when he saw McGonagall transform into a cat, and how it all led to this plan. When he was done, he sat back with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with himself.

“You… want us to become Animagi?” Peter frowned.

“Brilliant!” James crowed. “Absolutely brilliant!”

“But wouldn’t we need to register with the Ministry? And don’t you have to be of age?” Peter asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “We’re Marauders, Pete,” he said confidently. “We don’t have to do anything by the book.”

“But isn’t it really dangerous?” Peter pressed, clearly nervous.

“If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to!” Sirius snapped, his patience wearing thin. Peter cringed, and James quickly jumped in to soothe things over.

“Yeah, Pete,” James said, his tone gentler. “It’s completely up to you, mate. If you’re not comfortable, you could always just help with collecting the ingredients—your choice.”

Peter bit his lip, his eyes darting between James and the open book on the table. After a moment, he nodded resolutely. “No, I’ll do it.” He added, with a hint of bravery, “I mean, it’s for Remus, right?”

“Right!” Sirius grinned mischievously. “Plus, imagine everything we could get away with as animals!”

The three of them were hunched over the book, their heads almost touching as they whispered about the list of ingredients. Peter's finger traced down the page while Sirius pointed out a particularly tricky one with a wicked grin on his face. James, however, was only half-listening, his mind drifting to what their Animagus forms might be, and whether they’d be as impressive as McGonagall’s cat.

Just then, the portrait hole swung open, and James’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Remus stepping into the common room. He wasn’t alone—Lily Evans and her two best friends, Mary and Marlene, were with him. James felt an involuntary jolt in his stomach as he saw Lily. Without thinking, he immediately ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it, but only succeeded in making it stand up more. He also pushed his glasses up his nose, but they slid back down almost instantly. Brilliant.

Mary and Marlene burst into giggles over something, and Remus turned back to Lily with a casual, “See you later,” that made James’s stomach twist a little tighter. He leaned closer to Sirius and Peter, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“Let’s not tell him just yet—not until we’re sure we can actually do it.” His eyes darted towards Remus, who was starting to head their way. Sirius and Peter both nodded in agreement, and Peter fumbled to cover up the book with a sheet of parchment. Unfortunately, Peter being Peter, he managed to do it in the least subtle way possible, and James cringed as he saw the cover peek out.

“Alright, lads?” Remus greeted, craning his neck to get a look at whatever they were so desperate to hide. “What you doing?”

“Nothing!” James said a bit too brightly, trying to sound casual but coming off more like someone who’d just been caught red-handed. “Where’ve you been?”

“In the library,” Sirius cut in before Remus could answer, his voice dripping with fake innocence, “With your fan club, Lupin?”

“Piss off, Black,” Remus shot back, though there was a trace of a smile tugging at his lips. “I know when you’re jealous.” He then turned his attention back to the table, suspicion in his eyes. “Seriously, what are you hiding?”

The three of them exchanged guilty looks. James felt a pang of guilt at the hurt flickering behind Remus’s eyes, and for a moment, he was tempted to come clean. Remus had been through enough—he didn’t deserve more secrecy. But then James thought about how disappointed Remus would be if they failed, how crushed he’d look if they couldn't pull it off. He swallowed the truth and forced a grin instead.

“Your birthday!” Peter suddenly blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s coming up!”

“Yeah,” Remus replied slowly, scratching his head, clearly thrown by the change of topic. “Next week.”

“We’re planning a surprise!” Peter added, now grinning from ear to ear like he’d just won the House Cup. James thought it was a decent lie—smart, even—but the delivery was atrocious. Remus wasn’t buying it; the look on his face made that abundantly clear. Still, he seemed willing to let it slide, his smile a bit forced as he said,

“Oh, right. Well, you’d better not be planning to embarrass me like last year.”

“Oh no, never!” Sirius said, trying his best to sound innocent, though the grin on his face betrayed him. He picked up the book and hugged it to his chest, hiding the title. “Are we the sort of friends who would want to embarrass you, Lupin?”

“Yeah, you are.” Remus nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes at Sirius. “No singing. No big parties. Nothing that’s going to—”

“Get you into trouble, we know,” James finished, standing up and clapping a hand on Remus’s shoulder. He was relieved that Remus had dropped the subject but couldn’t resist adding, “Hey, why don’t we invite your new friends, eh? Do us good to mix with the fairer sex, don’t you think?”

“Right,” Sirius tossed his hair dramatically, smirking. “More like you just want a chance to get Evans on her own.”

“How dare you!” James shot back, feigning indignation, though he could feel his cheeks burning. He hoped his blush wasn’t too obvious, but he knew he was failing miserably. It didn’t help that Sirius was watching him with that insufferable smirk, clearly enjoying the whole thing far too much.

Remus just shook his head, a hint of amusement in his amber eyes. “You lot are hopeless,” he said, but there was no real bite in his voice. James let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, relieved that they’d managed to dodge the conversation. For now, at least.

* * *

A few days later, James found himself wandering towards the Ravenclaw common room, his footsteps light as he made his way through the familiar corridors. His destination, as usual, was the school’s trophy case. It had become a bit of a ritual for him—every week, he’d pay homage to the glittering Quidditch Cup that sat proudly on display, a symbol of all his hopes for the season. There was something comforting about it, a kind of reassurance that all his hard work and endless training would eventually pay off.

But today, as he rounded the corner, something caught his eye—Remus, standing alone by the case, his attention fixed not on the Quidditch Cup, but on a different trophy altogether.

Curiosity piqued, James hesitated for a moment, then reached into his bag and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. It wouldn’t do to startle Remus, not when he was clearly lost in thought. Slipping the cloak over his shoulders, James approached quietly, careful not to make a sound. As he drew closer, he saw what had captured Remus’s attention—a duelling trophy, polished and gleaming under the torchlight. The name ‘Lyall Lupin’ was engraved on it, and James realised with a start that this must have been Remus’s father’s trophy.

Remus stood there, completely still, his eyes filled with something deep and unreadable. Longing, maybe, or perhaps reverence. It was rare to see Remus so unguarded, his emotions so close to the surface. James watched as his friend reached out, fingers just brushing the glass, as if hoping to feel some connection to the past, to a father who wasn’t there anymore.

The sight tugged hard at James’s heartstrings. Remus was always the steady one, the one who held them all together when things got rough, but moments like this reminded James that there were parts of Remus’s life that were heavy with grief and loss. It made him feel an overwhelming sense of protectiveness towards him, a fierce determination that flared up in his chest. This—this right here—was why they had to become Animagi. Not just for the thrill of it, but because Remus needed them, needed this, even if he didn’t say it out loud.

Underneath the Invisibility Cloak, James found himself smiling, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. He watched as Remus finally pulled his hand away from the glass, his face a little softer, a little sadder. And in that moment, James made a silent vow to himself, to Remus, and to the memory of Lyall Lupin.

We will make this work, mate, he thought fiercely. I won’t ever leave you alone. I promise.

Chapter Text

Sunday 4th March 1973

Sirius had tried to delegate the research tasks about Animagi magic to both James and Peter, insisting that they had to get every detail exactly right before even thinking about brewing the potion. One misstep, and they could end up as some sort of bizarre half-human, half-animal hybrids—an existence that, according to the grim accounts they’d read, was not only agonising but also tragically short-lived. But as March crept closer, their attention began to shift to something more immediate and, in their opinion, far more important: Remus’s birthday.

Of course, they would have planned something anyway—it was an unwritten rule amongst the Marauders. But since Peter had let slip that they had a surprise in the works, Sirius was especially adamant that they delivered on the promise. The weekend before Remus’s birthday found the three of them sprawled out on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, half-heartedly surrounded by the remnants of an abandoned game of Exploding Snap. The cards lay forgotten as they brainstormed, their minds whirring.

“We could map more of the castle?” James suggested, twirling a card between his fingers.

Sirius shook his head. “Nah, we did that last year. We’ve got to do something new.”

James frowned, deep in thought. “What if I asked Madam Hooch to—"

“No Quidditch, James,” Sirius cut him off. “We already agreed—Remus isn’t as obsessed as you are.”

“Honeydukes, then?” James tried, though even he knew it was a weak suggestion.

Sirius rolled his eyes, exasperated. “We go there every week! It has to be something he’s not expecting, something that’ll really surprise him!”

Silence fell over them as they all turned their thoughts inward, searching for that one perfect idea. James’s gaze drifted to the fireplace, where the flames crackled and sparked in the grate. He watched the flickering fire, its embers dancing up the chimney, until suddenly, an idea burst into his mind like one of the fireworks from Zonko’s.

“Oh!” James shot upright, his face lighting up. “I’ve got it!”

“What?!” Peter and Sirius asked in unison, leaning in eagerly. James grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Fireworks!”

Peter looked puzzled. “...what?”

“Let’s set off fireworks!” James repeated, more enthusiastically this time. “Come on, we’ve been wanting to try out those new lettered ones from Filibuster’s—what if we spell out ‘Happy Birthday’ or something like that?”

Sirius scratched his chin thoughtfully, the idea slowly taking root. “Yeah… yeah, that’s brilliant! But it’d have to be at night to get the full effect.”

“Midnight!” James declared. “We’ll wake him up at midnight, set off the fireworks, and then… er… sing happy birthday?”

“And what, go back to sleep?” Sirius frowned, clearly unimpressed with that last bit. James shrugged, a bit sheepishly.

“We can do something else that Remus likes? Maybe pull a prank?”

“Yeah…” Sirius lay back down, his mind ticking over. “It should be something Remus would actually want to do. Something he enjoys.”

Peter, who had been quiet up until now, snorted, muttering under his breath, “The only thing Remus seems to like these days is revising. And food.”

James couldn’t help but laugh. It was true—Remus had taken to quizzing Peter on History of Magic during dinner, a habit that had quickly driven Peter to the edge of frustration. The poor boy had eventually begged Remus to stop trying to teach him while he was eating, but the rest of them found the whole situation absolutely hilarious.

“Hang on,” Sirius said suddenly, a slow grin spreading across his face. He turned to Peter, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “That’s it!”

Peter looked confused. “What’s it?”

“Revising and food,” Sirius replied, his grin widening. “That’s exactly what we’ll give him. But in our own special way.”

* * *

The Marauders were absolutely chuffed to discover that Remus’s birthday fell on a Saturday that year. This, in their collective opinion, opened up endless possibilities for a proper celebration—staying up late, shooting fireworks into the sky, and generally causing a ruckus without the looming dread of classes the next morning. Of course, they hadn’t breathed a word of this plan to Remus. 

James had it in his head that since Remus was pally with the girls now (and that was the only reason, obviously), he’d enjoy having them there for his birthday. Once James Potter had decided on something, there was little anyone could do to sway him. Sirius grumbled about it at first, but after a bit of cajoling, he gave in, and James wasted no time in setting off to find Lily.

He found her in the common room, predictably engrossed in a book. Typical, really. But that didn’t deter him. He sauntered over, running a hand through his hair to give it that perfectly disheveled look. “Hey, Evans. Got a minute?”

Lily glanced up from her book, one eyebrow arched in that way she did when she knew something was up. “What’s up, Potter?”

James cleared his throat, attempting to sound as casual as possible. “We’re throwing a little birthday do for Remus in our dorm. Thought you and your mates might want to join.”

Lily’s scepticism was almost tangible. “And why exactly would we want to crash your party?”

James shrugged, still trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, though inside he was a bit more hopeful than he’d care to admit. “Thought you lot might enjoy some free food and, you know, excellent company.” He hesitated, deciding against mentioning the fireworks just yet. Best not to give her any reasons to say no outright.

“Free food and ‘excellent company,’ you say?” she echoed, crossing her arms in that way she did when she was about to shoot someone down. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” James insisted, trying his best to appear innocent, which wasn’t exactly his forte. “Just a friendly get-together for Remus’s birthday. I—he’d like it if you were there. So, what do you say?”

Lily rolled her eyes, but there was a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Alright, we’ll come. But don’t get any ideas. We’re doing this for Remus, not because you asked so… nicely.”

James grinned, trying to keep the triumph from being too obvious. “Brilliant!”

As Lily turned to leave, she paused, her sharp green eyes narrowing slightly as they fixed on James. He felt his face heat up under her gaze. “What’s wrong now, Evans?” he asked, half-smirking but feeling rather exposed all the same.

She gave him a look that clearly said, You know exactly what’s wrong, before reaching out and, to his utter surprise, adjusting his glasses. The unexpected closeness sent his heart into a bit of a frenzy. “You really ought to find a way to keep these on properly, Potter. They’re always askew or broken whenever I see you.”

James, trying to play it cool despite the mad flurry of butterflies in his stomach, quipped, “Maybe I just like giving you a reason to fix them for me.”

Lily rolled her eyes again, but this time, James was sure he caught the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “See you at Remus’s birthday, Potter,” she said, and with that, she walked away, leaving James standing there, feeling a bit dazed and wearing a grin that refused to fade.

* * *

Saturday 10th March 1973

Once Lily had roped in the other two girls, Mary and Marlene, the excitement about Remus’s surprise birthday bash reached fever pitch. Mary even volunteered, at James’s insistence, to test whether they could sneak into the boys’ dorm without getting caught. Lily had merely rolled her eyes at the idea and stomped off in a huff when James first approached her.

As Saturday dawned, the boys had wrapped up a week’s worth of elaborate preparations. With broad, excited grins plastered on their faces, they bid Remus goodnight, barely containing their glee. Just before the clock struck twelve, James and Sirius snuck over to their friend’s bed. Remus was sound asleep, his chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm. Sirius held up a finger, wand at the ready, signalling for patience. The clock struck twelve, and—

“LUMOS MAXIMA!”

A flood of blinding light burst forth, illuminating the dorm room in an instant. They ripped back the curtains around Remus’s bed, chanting in unison,

“Happy Birthday, Lupin!”

Remus stirred, rubbing his face groggily and squinting against the harsh light. “It’s still dark out, you prats,” he grumbled, clearly not thrilled by the interruption.

“It’s precisely one minute past midnight,” Sirius declared, puffing out his chest in mock formality, “And therefore officially your thirteenth birthday.”

“Where’s Pete?” Remus asked, glancing around. The room was decked out in fairy lights from Christmas and streamers that usually adorned the Quidditch pitch on match days.

“On a mission,” James said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, up and dressed.”

“Where are we going?” Remus asked, sounding both curious and wary.

“Nowhere,” Sirius replied breezily, “But you’ll want to be properly attired for when your guests arrive.”

“My guests?!”

“Indeed,” Sirius grinned broadly. “We tried to keep it Marauders-only, but so many people wanted to celebrate with you.”

Remus shot him a sceptical look, but he shrugged it off and quickly pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Perfect timing, as a soft knock came at the door just as he finished dressing.

“Come in!” James called out cheerfully. Sirius noted Remus’s wince and explained,

“It’s fine, we put a Silencing Charm on the room.”

Remus frowned, “So… whoever’s on the other side of that door can’t actually hear us?”

James smacked his forehead. “We are complete muppets,” he groaned, as he swung the door open.

Peter stood outside, looking quite pleased with himself and a bit pink, flanked by Lily, Marlene, and Mary. They all entered, smiles wide and clutching cards and small packages.

“I didn’t think girls were allowed in here,” Remus said, astonished.

“The lovely Mary tested it for us last week,” James explained. “Nothing bad seemed to happen.”

Sirius sighed dramatically. “One day you’ll read Hogwarts: A History, and I’ll finally get some peace.”

James began pulling packages out from under his bed, ripping them open with fervour. They had raided Honeydukes once more—mountains of sweets were revealed: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizzbees, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, sherbet lemons, Cauldron Cakes, and not to mention Peter’s haul from the kitchen: ham sandwiches, egg mayonnaise, coronation chicken, cheese and pickle, Remus’s favourite salt and vinegar crisps, scotch eggs, sausage rolls, pork pies, cheese and pineapple sticks, and some rather token fruit. As the other Marauders laid out the food, Sirius spread blankets and velvet cushions across the floor.

“Lupin,” Sirius said with a grin as wide as a pumpkin, “Welcome to your midnight feast!”

“Happy birthday, Remus!” the girls chorused.

They all settled down, and Sirius put a record on his player. He had received two Bowie albums—Hunky Dory and The Man Who Sold the World—from Andromeda.

“Sit next to me, Sirius,” Mary chirped as he moved back. He looked a bit puzzled but complied, leaning over to hand Remus his present.

“Open this first!” Sirius urged.

He’d made a bit of a hash of the wrapping, but when James had given him a hard time about it, Sirius had merely shrugged it off, saying they’d throw it away anyway.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Remus mumbled, unwinding the wrapping paper.

“A poster?” Lily asked, watching eagerly as Remus unfurled a large, glossy print of David Bowie in a spangly silver costume, striking an impossibly dramatic pose.

“I got Andromeda to send it to me at Christmas,” Sirius grinned, unable to hide his excitement, “But I enchanted it to move myself!”

“Wow!” Remus’s smile reached his eyes, crinkling the corners. “Thanks! It’s brilliant.”

The girls had given him packets of sweets and cakes—Lily also presented a book on Potions. Remus eyed it sceptically, and Lily grinned, “Can’t keep giving Severus a reason to lord it over you.”

“Please do not mention Snivellus on this most sacred occasion,” James said with exaggerated horror. Lily rolled her eyes but returned to her jam tart, while James’s excitement was too great for him to worry about winning her attention back. He cleared his throat, his chocolate-brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “My present is coming later… once we’ve all stuffed ourselves to bursting.”

“Oh, Merlin, Potter,” Marlene squeaked, “What have you got planned?”

James shot her a bewildered look, noting she usually wasn’t this ‘girly’ around just the Marauders. He noticed her sneaking glances at Sirius and Mary. He quickly recovered, mimicking the motion of locking his lips and tossing the key.

James was thoroughly enjoying himself—he knew inviting the girls had been a stroke of genius. He already enjoyed Lily and Marlene’s company, but Mary was proving to be an unexpected delight. She had a sharp wit that could rival Sirius’s cheek, and James had yet to discover Marlene's uncanny talent for faculty impressions, which had the Marauders doubled up with laughter—Peter even had to change his shirt after spewing pumpkin juice everywhere.

“Starting to see why Remus has been ditching us for you lot,” James said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. It was about half past one, and Sirius caught James’s eye, giving him a significant look before returning to his conversation with Mary.

“Yeah, you’re not bad, for girls,” Sirius winked at Mary, who scoffed and gave him a playful shove.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s got nothing to do with me trying to get my homework done.”

“Oh, how times have changed,” Sirius said with an air of mock grandeur.

“You’ll all be laughing on the other sides of your faces when Remus aces our exams,” Lily said slyly.

“Pah!” James stretched dramatically, knowing it was time to unveil the best part of the night. “Exams! We Marauders have higher concerns. Mr. Black, Mr. Pettigrew,” he made a sweeping gesture towards the dorm window, “Shall we?”

“By George!” Sirius leapt to his feet. “Is it time?!”

James closed his eyes solemnly and nodded. “Indeed it is.”

“Then make haste!” Peter cried, standing up as well.

The girls exchanged nervous glances, but Remus merely shrugged. James, Sirius, and Peter dashed to the window, hearts racing with the thrill of the impending spectacle. They flung the window open, snickering as they prepared their fireworks.

“Come on!” Peter urged the others, “You’ll want to see this!”

James pulled out a box of bright red fireworks from under his bed, loading up his arms and Sirius’s. 

“Are those…” Marlene wrinkled her nose, “Not Dr Filibuster’s?!”

James grinned maniacally. “Oh yes!”

“Oh no!” Lily said, alarmed, “We’re not supposed to! You’ll wake the whole castle!”

“If you don’t like it, Evans, you know where the door is,” Sirius snapped, passing rockets to Peter. “You promised not to spoil anything.”

James gave her a reassuring look. He didn’t want her to worry—this was Remus’s surprise, after all.

“Remus,” Lily turned to him, “Tell them. They’ll listen to you!”

“No they won’t,” Remus said with a grin, “Anyway, I want to see! I’ve never seen wizard fireworks.”

“You’re in for a treat!” Sirius winked.

“How many do you need?!” Mary asked, clearly impressed.

“Thirteen, obviously,” James said.

“You’re all going to get in so much trouble…”

“Oh, stop being such a goody-goody, Lil!” Marlene threw an arm around the redhead.

“We won’t let any of you girls get in trouble,” James said gallantly, though his hands were too full to push his glasses back up as they slid down his nose. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Lily folded her arms defiantly. “I just think you’re all being—"

“Oops!”

BANG

“Peter!”

Everyone leaned out of the window to see the rocket Peter had dropped tumbling down towards the ground, exploding in a cascade of green and gold sparks.

“Sorry…” Peter mumbled, looking a bit sheepish as the rocket tumbled from his hands. Sirius, however, was barely able to contain his laughter.

“No, brilliant work, Pete—now that we’ve started, might as well go full throttle!” Without waiting for anyone to protest, Sirius began launching fireworks out of the window with reckless abandon. James and Peter joined in with similar enthusiasm, and Lily, at a loss for words, simply stared in awe as the night sky was set ablaze with dazzling colours.

The fireworks continued to burst for what felt like an eternity, each explosion more vibrant than the last. They morphed from fiery reds to emerald greens, velvety purples to bright oranges, twisting and curling into intricate shapes before eventually spelling out ‘HAPPY THIRTEENTH BIRTHDAY REMU’. 

Sirius, still chuckling, shook his head with mock exasperation. “Knew it was too many letters,” he grumbled. He’d wanted to leave out ‘thirteenth’, but James had been adamant, and look where that had got them—up to their eyeballs in sparkling pyrotechnics.

The fireworks were not only a feast for the eyes but a cacophony of noise, reverberating through the castle and clearly catching the attention of the other Gryffindors. James could already hear the scuffle of windows opening as curious onlookers tried to figure out if Hogwarts was under siege. From the room above, someone muttered, “Them bloody Marauders are at it again.”

Predictably, Professor McGonagall was not far behind. She pounded on the door with the kind of authority that made James wince. “Potter! Black! Don’t think I don’t know you’re behind this. OPEN THIS DOOR!”

“Oh, bollocks!” James grimaced, his excitement replaced by a sudden, cold sweat. “Better get under the beds, ladies…”

In the chaos that followed, they were all thoroughly reprimanded, sentenced to two months of detention, and, worst of all, had letters sent home to their parents. McGonagall, a rather amusing sight in her red tartan nightie, finally left them, her stern expression etched deeply into their memories. Marlene, Lily, and Mary reluctantly returned to their dormitory, leaving the boys to reflect on their misadventure.

As the clock ticked past two in the morning, the boys decided it was finally time to call it a night. 

“Happy birthday, Remus!” Peter called out as he drew his curtains, stifling a yawn.

James, settling down and placing his glasses on his bedside table, looked around at the three beds and felt a warm glow of satisfaction. 

“Yeah,” Sirius echoed, also yawning, “Happy birthday, Remu.”

Chapter Text

Monday 19th March 1973

The full moon that month fell on a Sunday night, which, as far as James was concerned, was a complete catastrophe. The moment he realised that Remus would be missing the match against Ravenclaw, he felt utterly deflated. Still, it wasn’t exactly a shock when Remus didn’t show up for class on Monday morning. More often than not, the day after a full moon saw him tucked away in the Hospital Wing, downing Sleeping Potions and being fussed over by Madam Pomfrey. She was usually quite good about letting them visit, but there were days when she’d turn them away at the door with a firm shake of her head. Those days were the worst, because James knew it meant Remus had had a particularly rough night. And yet, even when Remus did return to their dorm with freshly healed wounds and new bandages, he never once complained. It was like he didn’t even think he had the right to.

During lunch, the Marauders made their first attempt to visit, but Madam Pomfrey was having none of it. She shooed them away, immune to their heartfelt pleading. The fact that she wasn’t budging meant only one thing—it had been a bad one.

As the day dragged on, the absence of their friend weighed heavily on them. James, for one, couldn’t shake the feeling of worry that had settled in his gut. He could tell Sirius was feeling guilty too, the way he kept biting his lip and staring off into space. James knew Sirius had taken it upon himself to lead the Animagus research, but lately, they’d been so caught up in their usual Marauding antics that it had fallen by the wayside. James kept reminding him that he shouldn’t feel rushed, that they were in this for the long haul, and that he knew Sirius would never give up on Remus. But deep down, James couldn’t deny that he was part of the reason Sirius hadn’t had the time to sit down and focus.

Of course, James cared just as much as Sirius about becoming Animagi—it wasn’t just about the thrill of it; it was about helping Remus. But while James was brilliant at taking charge and rallying the troops, he had a tendency to get so caught up in the big picture that he’d overlook the details. And, as Sirius kept reminding him, Animagus magic was all about the details. That’s why Sirius had resigned himself to doing most of the heavy lifting when it came to research.

As soon as their last class ended, the three of them bolted for the Hospital Wing, eager to check on Remus. They were in such a rush that Peter, not watching where he was going, walked smack into a cabinet door that had been left open, sending a couple of bedpans clattering to the floor. James winced at the noise, and the three of them froze as Madam Pomfrey’s head popped out from behind the curtains drawn around Remus’s bed.

“Mr. Pettigrew!” she barked, her eyes narrowing. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“S-s-sorry, Madam Pomfrey—we were just…”

“Pick those bedpans up this instant and put them back in the cupboard! And wipe that smirk off your face, Mr. Black. Give him a hand.”

While Sirius reluctantly helped Peter tidy up, James slipped over to Remus’s bed and peeked around the curtain.

“Hiya, Remu,” he said softly, trying not to sound as concerned as he felt. “Sorry about all the noise.”

Remus grinned, trying to sit up but wincing slightly as he did. “S’okay.”

“Lie down!” Madam Pomfrey scolded, bustling over. “You’ve had three broken bones, you silly boy.”

“I’m feeling much better!” Remus protested, though his pale face and tired eyes told a different story.

CRASH.

“MR. PETTIGREW, WHAT DID I SAY?!” Madam Pomfrey spun around, looking even more cross.

James slumped into the chair beside Remus’s bed, rubbing his temples. “Ready to go?” he asked, casually ruffling Remus’s (now rather shaggy) brown hair.

“If she’ll let me,” Remus nodded towards the curtain Madam Pomfrey had vanished behind. “How was the match?”

“Smashed it,” James said, his eyes lighting up as he dropped the Snitch into Remus’s lap. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a surge of pride. “Made one of the Ravenclaw Beaters cry.”

“How nice.”

“How was… y’know, your night?” James asked, trying to sound casual, though he hated how hollow the words felt. They didn’t often talk about the full moons, and James was conflicted about it. He didn’t want to pressure Remus into sharing something painful, but at the same time, he wished his friend would open up a bit more.

“Fine,” Remus replied dryly, twisting his mouth in that way he did when he was deflecting. James could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, so he let it drop, even though it gnawed at him that Remus might be suffering in silence.

“Three broken bones, did she say?”

“Yeah. All fixed now, though. She’s amazing, only takes one spell. Muggles have to wear plaster casts for weeks.”

“Brilliant!” James shook his head, marveling at how much Remus downplayed everything.

“REMU!” Sirius suddenly burst through the curtain, flinging himself dramatically at the foot of the bed. “You’re ALIVE!” he gasped, as if he’d genuinely feared otherwise. “I was convinced she was trying to cover something up—the old bat wouldn’t let us in.”

“Don’t call her that,” Remus snapped, frowning. “And don’t call me that!”

“But you wanted a nickname,” Sirius said, looking a bit wounded as he clambered back to his feet. Peter sidled up, hands shoved in his pockets, looking like he wanted to disappear.

“No, I didn’t,” Remus furrowed his brow. “When did I ever say—?”

“Last year,” Sirius interrupted, far too quickly. “Almost exactly a year ago, you said you wouldn’t mind being called anything as long as it wasn’t Loony Lupin.”

“God, you’ve got a memory like an elephant,” Remus said, though James hadn’t the faintest idea what that even meant. He figured it out well enough from context, though. 

“Anyway,” Remus continued in a quieter voice, “The whole point of having a nickname was so no one knew who wrote the map. I don’t think ‘Remu’ is going to fool anyone.”

“He’s got a point,” James agreed, nodding wisely. “As much fun as it’s been.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius sighed, though he looked disappointed. “But can we call you Remu until we come up with something better?”

“No.”

“Boring.” Sirius huffed, looking around the room for something else to distract himself with, conspicuously avoiding the sight of Remus’s bandages. “So, are we getting out of here or shall I settle down for a rousing game of Snap?”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Madam Pomfrey declared as she reappeared, bustling in with her usual no-nonsense attitude. “I’m keeping Mr. Lupin in for observation overnight.”

“No!” Remus protested, sitting up straighter. “I’m feeling much better!” He always said that, but James wasn’t so sure. Remus looked rough, and if he had broken three bones, he had to be in more pain than he was letting on.

“I’m not being deliberately unkind, Remus,” the medi-witch sighed, “This is for your health.”

“I’ll go straight to bed!” Remus promised, his voice almost pleading.

“We’ll look after him!” James chimed in earnestly. Sirius nodded along, adding his support.

Madam Pomfrey gave them a sceptical look. “I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, but no.”

“Fine,” Peter spoke up suddenly, surprising them all. “We’ll stay here, then.”

“Yeah,” Sirius and James said together, almost as if they’d rehearsed it.

“You’ll miss dinner!” Remus protested, looking both touched and exasperated at the same time.

“I’m sure we can arrange something just this once,” Madam Pomfrey said, softening a bit, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “All right, boys—but you’re to keep quiet. And get on with your homework. I’ll not have you using Mr. Lupin as an excuse for not handing anything in.”

With a wave of her wand, three more chairs and a long pinewood desk materialized beside Remus’s bed, complete with inkwells and parchment. James was impressed—he hadn’t realised Madam Pomfrey was such a powerful witch. 

Remus opened his mouth to object, but Madam Pomfrey cut him off. “And no, Remus—no homework for you. Just rest.”

Remus lay back down, looking thoroughly disappointed. Honestly, what a weirdo, James thought fondly.

“Can I at least read my book?” Remus asked meekly, like a kid asking for pudding before dinner.

“As long as it doesn’t strain your eyes,” she allowed, giving him a soft look before leaving them to it.

The other three boys dutifully pulled out their homework, though James noticed Remus craning his neck to see what they were working on. He couldn’t help but smile fondly.

“Ah ah ah,” James said, grinning as he covered his parchment with his arm, “No peeking, Remu. You just rest.”

“Ugh, call me Loony!” Remus groaned, burying his face in his book. “Anything but Remu!”

“But it suits you!” Sirius piped up from behind his quill, his voice teasing. “Reeeeemuuuuuu.”

“Stop it, or I’ll bite you,” Remus threatened, though his half-hearted glare lacked any real menace.

“Reeeeemuuuu.”

“Reeeeemuuuu!” Peter joined in, eyes wide with mischief as all three of them tried to stifle their giggles, half-worried that Madam Pomfrey would come storming back in at any moment.

Remus let out an exaggerated sigh and covered his face with the book he was pretending to read. “I hate my name,” he muttered from behind the pages. 

To be fair, James quite liked Remus’s name. There was something mysterious and almost poetic about "Remus Lupin," like it belonged to someone out of a legend. James Potter, on the other hand, felt painfully ordinary. Peter Pettigrew sounded like a mouthful of marbles, but it fit him well enough. And Sirius Black? Well, that was the sort of name people wrote songs about—whichever way you looked at it, it was undeniably cool.

“You might as well call me anything you like,” Remus continued, voice muffled. “I dunno what could be worse.”

James, ever eager to be helpful, piped up, “Loony Remu? Remoony?”

Sirius, who had been trying to hold it together, completely lost it. “REMOONY!” he snorted, collapsing into giggles on the desk, his quill skidding off the edge of his parchment.

“Moony is actually quite good,” Peter suddenly said, sounding unusually serious as he looked up from his work.

“Eh?” Sirius wiped his eyes, still chuckling.

“Moony,” Peter repeated. “As a nickname.”

James watched as Remus stared at Peter, his lower lip jutting out slightly—he always did that when he was deep in thought. The room fell silent for a moment, the three of them waiting for Remus to decide. 

Finally, Remus gave a grudging nod. “I don’t hate it.”

“I love it!” James declared, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Moony. Suits you.”

Remus didn’t smile back, though he did seem somewhat pleased. “Won’t people… y’know, catch on?” he asked, chewing nervously on his lip.

“Nah,” Sirius waved a hand dismissively, leaning back in his chair. “We’ll just tell them it’s after that Muggle in The Who.”

“They’re all Muggles in The Who,” Remus pointed out with a sigh. “And I don’t play the drums.”

“You like hitting things,” Sirius shrugged nonchalantly.

Remus snorted. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Remoony,” Sirius replied with a wink, knowing full well it would annoy him.

James laughed, watching Remus shake his head in mock despair. “Moony it is, then,” James said, feeling a warm satisfaction in his chest. It was a small thing, but it felt like they’d done something important.

* * * 

The next morning, the Great Hall was awash with the soft, golden light of dawn, casting long shadows and filling the room with a sense of calm before the inevitable hustle and bustle of the day. James, ever the early riser, had already completed his usual jog around the grounds and now sat at the Gryffindor table, eyeing the pile of French toast on his plate with mild suspicion. He wasn’t one for overly sweet things, but the morning’s exercise had left him ravenous.

The hall was beginning to fill up with students, and James, feeling a bit more awake now, glanced around for his fellow Marauders. As he waited, his gaze wandered down the table and landed, as it so often did lately, on Lily Evans. She was deep in conversation with Marlene and Mary, her fiery red hair catching the morning light in a way that made it look almost like it was glowing.

James found himself staring, completely unintentional, of course. It was just that there was something about Lily that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She was different—different from anyone else he’d ever known. And lately, he couldn’t seem to get her out of his head.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice the French toast dripping syrup onto his plate. Instead, he was transfixed by the way Lily’s face crinkled in laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief. And then, right in the middle of his thoughts, it happened.

Lily, in the midst of taking a bite of her breakfast, managed to get a small smudge of icing sugar on her nose. Time seemed to slow down as James watched, wide-eyed, a sudden jolt of realisation hitting him like a Bludger to the chest.

Oh?

Oh…

Oh!

“Blimey,” he muttered under his breath, eyes still locked on Lily.

It all made sense now. The way his heart raced when she was near, the way he found himself looking for her in a crowd, the way he felt a little lighter whenever she smiled at him. It wasn’t just a crush, not like the fleeting ones he’d had before. No, this was something more, something that felt almost too big to fit inside his chest.

I fancy Lily Evans?

I fancy Lily Evans…

Bloody hell, I fancy Lily Evans!

A slow grin spread across James’s face, his heart pounding with the thrill of his newfound realisation. It was like discovering a secret treasure that had been hidden in plain sight all along.

At that exact moment, Lily, probably sensing she was being watched, glanced up and caught James’s eye. Her expression shifted to one of mild suspicion, her eyebrows arching in that familiar way that always made James’s stomach flip.

“What’s got you grinning like a lunatic, Potter?” she called out, her tone challenging, as if she was already preparing for one of their usual verbal sparring matches.

But James, too lost in his own world of newfound affection, was on an entirely different wavelength. He shot her a grin, one that was more genuine than anything he’d given her before, his chocolate-brown eyes twinkling with delight. “Just appreciating the view, Evans. You’ve got a bit of something…” He gestured to his own nose, mimicking the spot where the icing sugar was on hers. “Not that you need it—you’re sweet enough already.”

Lily blinked, clearly caught off guard by his uncharacteristically sincere tone. Her hand instinctively went to her nose, brushing away the sugar, and she looked back at him, a mix of surprise and confusion on her face. “Honestly, Potter, focus on your breakfast,” she retorted, though her voice lacked the usual bite, as if she wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened.

But James, now fully aware of his feelings and not the least bit deterred by her response, simply continued to grin at her, his heart lighter than it had been in ages.

As the Great Hall slowly came to life with the sounds of clattering plates and chatter, James Potter sat there, grinning like a Cheshire cat, the realisation of his feelings making everything seem just a little bit brighter, a little bit sweeter. Even the French toast, which he normally found too sugary, tasted better that morning. Or maybe, he thought with a chuckle, it was just the fact that he was finally, undeniably, head over heels for Lily Evans.

Chapter Text

Jeremiah was a bullfrog

Was a good friend of mine

I never understood a single word he said 

But I helped him a-drink his wine

And he always had some mighty fine wine

Singin’

Joy to the world

All the boys and girls, now

Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea

Joy to you and me

Friday 20th April 1973

James was on a proper roll, and he knew it. The past week had been nothing short of spectacular for mischief-making. He and Sirius had turned the Slytherin banners in the Great Hall a blinding shade of pink, enchanted the torches on the third floor to sneeze whenever someone walked past—causing utter pandemonium during passing periods—and, as the pièce de résistance, plotted out a new secret passage on the Marauder’s Map. The switch was hidden inside a suit of armour just outside the Ravenclaw common room, and the satisfaction of watching students wander past, completely unaware, was immense. 

Of course, James had made the obligatory threat to the lads about needing to knuckle down and start revising come Monday. But before that, he and Sirius had one more prank up their sleeves—a beauty involving a Time-Delay Spell and a handful of Spitting Tulips filched from the greenhouse. Perfectly harmless, yet guaranteed to cause a bit of harmless mayhem.

It was an unseasonably warm day, and most of the students were out basking in the sunshine, which meant the halls were relatively empty. Perfect conditions for a prank. James was lingering outside the Great Hall, right by the House point hourglasses, waiting for Sirius to rendezvous with him. They’d synchronized everything down to the second, though Sirius, in typical Sirius fashion, was starting to run late.

James shifted impatiently, his trainers squeaking against the polished floor as he cast a glance towards the entrance. Where the bloody hell was Sirius?

Lost in his thoughts, James nearly jumped when Peter emerged from the Great Hall. Their eyes met, and James couldn’t help but grin, the excitement of their latest escapade bubbling up inside him. He was practically vibrating with anticipation, ready to spill the beans.

“Oi, Pete! You won’t believe what Sirius and I’ve got lined up this time!” James started, his words tumbling over themselves in his eagerness. “We’ve set up a time-delay spell, got our hands on some Spitting Tulips, and… well, let’s just say it’s going to be legendary!”

But Peter didn’t seem as thrilled as James had expected. There was a slight pause, and when Peter spoke, it was with a note of hesitation. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? I could’ve helped.”

James blinked, caught off guard. “Well, erm… It’s just… we had to time everything perfectly, and you’ve been dead busy this week, what with studying and chess club and all…”

Peter’s face didn’t betray much, but James could sense the disappointment radiating off him like heat from a cauldron. He tried to recover, but the words felt clumsy, awkward in his mouth. “But you can join us now! When Sirius gets back, we’ll need help carrying the flowers.”

“No point now,” Peter muttered, avoiding James’s gaze.

“Come on, Pete! It’ll be a right laugh, and we could really use your help,” James insisted, his grin faltering slightly.

But Peter had already made up his mind. He shook his head, offering a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just tell me how it went, yeah? I’ll catch you later, James.”

As Peter turned and walked away, James watched him go, confusion gnawing at the edges of his excitement. Had he unintentionally hurt Peter’s feelings? That hadn’t been his intention at all. Frowning, James took a step to follow him, but before he could catch up, Marlene appeared out of nowhere, her sharp eyes darting between the two boys.

“Hey, James! Peter! Wait up!” she called, her voice bright and cheerful as she hurried to intercept them. She barely gave James a second glance before turning her full attention to Peter.

“Peter, could you give me a hand with my Astronomy homework?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I hear you’re a whiz at it.”

Peter’s mood shifted almost instantly, his eyes lighting up with a newfound enthusiasm. “Sure, Marlene! The library’s the best place for that, yeah?”

Marlene nodded, and the two of them started towards the library. But James wasn’t quite done being confused. He quickened his pace to catch up with them, his brows furrowed.

“Marlene, what’s all this about?” James asked, the confusion clear in his voice.

Marlene glanced at Peter, who was already engrossed in an animated discussion about constellations, then back at James with a knowing smile. “Well, I figured Peter could help me with Astronomy, and the library’s the best place for that. You should come too!”

James hesitated, torn between his responsibility to the prank and the gnawing feeling that he might’ve mucked things up with Peter. “I can’t… I’ve got to wait for Sirius.”

Marlene nodded, understanding, but as she turned to leave with Peter, James gently grabbed her arm, still seeking answers. “Why’d you do that?” he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Marlene looked back at Peter, who was now chatting away happily, and then met James’s gaze. “Jamie, I could see Peter was feeling a bit left out. Thought he could use a bit of cheering up. And besides,” she added with a small smile, “he’s really good at Astronomy, so it’s a win-win.”

James sighed, a wave of guilt washing over him. He hadn’t meant to leave Peter out or make him feel like he wasn’t part of the group. “I didn’t mean to make him feel like that.”

Marlene patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got a heart of gold, James. Just remember that Peter’s a good bloke too. He’s always got your back.”

James nodded, the confusion and guilt still lingering as he watched Marlene and Peter disappear down the corridor towards the library. The door swung shut behind them, and for a moment, James just stood there, deep in thought. 

The prank would still go ahead—Sirius would never let him forget it if they didn’t follow through—but the shine had worn off a bit. Maybe next time, he’d make sure Peter was right there with them from the start. After all, a Marauder was a Marauder, and they were strongest when they stuck together.

* * *

Monday 30th April 1973

“Moony, what’s with all these books?” James grumbled as he nearly tripped over a precarious pile Remus had left by the dorm entrance. He couldn’t fathom why on earth Remus had chosen that particular spot, considering the state of the dorm was already approaching catastrophic. Not that they ever did much about it.

“Just some research,” Remus replied, barely glancing up from the tome he was buried in. “Where’ve you been?”

“Plotting.” Sirius strode in behind James, deftly stepping over the mess, unlike his less coordinated friend. Remus raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

“Plotting? Map or mischief?”

Sirius flashed a wicked grin. “Bit of both,” he said, tossing himself onto Remus’s bed with the kind of reckless abandon only Sirius could pull off. He snatched up one of the books, flipping it open. “Wizard Wedding Rituals?!” he snorted. “Who’re you marrying, Moony? Not Evans, I hope. James’ll have to duel you for her.”

James, who had been wrestling with a particularly heavy stack of books, nearly dropped them at Sirius’s words. “I do not fancy Evans,” he snapped, a bit too quickly. He knew full well he was rubbish at lying—everyone loved reminding him—but admitting his feelings to himself was one thing; being ready for the Marauders’ relentless teasing was another. “Magical Marriages,” he read off the spine of the book he’d just picked up, placing it on top of the pile. “Seriously, Remus, what’s all this about?”

Remus let out a long-suffering sigh, setting his book down and rubbing his eyes as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “I’m trying to help you,” he said, nudging Sirius gently with his foot. “Someone’s got to get you out of this stupid engagement.”

James felt a twist in his gut at the mention of the engagement. He couldn’t shake the dread that had been gnawing at him since his half-hearted attempt to get Regulus’s help had failed. Sirius, for his part, looked downright mutinous.

“Oi! I’m doing everything I can,” Sirius protested, but Remus merely gave him a sceptical look.

“And what exactly are you doing?”

"Haven’t I had more detentions than anyone else this year? I must get a Howler a week. And my lions—don’t forget about my lions at the Quidditch match,” Sirius declared, with a touch of defiance, as if his pranks were a badge of honour.

Remus frowned, looking as though he was trying to piece together a particularly tricky puzzle. “How is any of that supposed to help?”

“I’m proving that I’m not the marrying type,” Sirius replied, crossing his arms as though it were the most logical conclusion in the world.

James, who had just finished clearing a space on Remus’s bed, plopped down next to them. “No offence, mate,” he said, his voice laced with a gentle humour, “but I don’t think your lot really care that you’re not the marrying type.”

“Exactly,” Remus chimed in, his tone more serious. “You’re the heir. You have to marry another pure-blood. And the Black family have a long history of intermarriage—your parents are cousins, for Merlin’s sake.”

Sirius shifted uncomfortably, his bravado slipping just a bit. “Er… how do you know all that?”

Remus gestured to the stack of books as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been reading,” he said simply. “There’s loads of stuff in the library on your family. One of the oldest wizarding houses in Britain, traced all the way back to the Middle Ages. The family seat was in Inverness in Scotland—”

“I know all this,” Sirius interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. He’d grown up with the weight of his family history drummed into him, and he had no interest in revisiting it.

“Yeah, but did you know that you aren’t the first Black who wanted to get out of a marriage?” Remus pressed on.

“Well, obviously Andromeda—but that was different. She wanted to marry, only Ted was the wrong sort…”

“Not just her. Lyra Black defied the family’s wishes in 1901 to marry into the Crabbe family, and Delphinus Black was supposed to marry his niece in 1750 but left her at the altar and married Fidelia Bulstrode. And your Uncle Alphard never married either, though there’s no explanation—”

“We’re not supposed to talk about him,” Sirius cut in sharply, a trace of unease in his voice. “I’ve heard Mother ranting about him, and I’m pretty sure he was a queer.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Neither James nor Remus seemed to know what to say to that. It was as if they’d stumbled upon something too personal, too painful for even the Marauders to joke about.

“My dad knew Alphard,” James offered quietly after a beat, his tone unusually gentle. “Said he was an all right bloke.”

“He was always nice to me,” Sirius muttered, shrugging as though it didn’t matter. But there was a hint of something in his voice—gratitude, perhaps. “Left me his money and everything, made sure no one else can touch it until I’m of age. Makes my parents furious, you know, that he didn’t return all his cash to the family vault. So I have to give him credit for that, even if he was… well, whatever.”

Remus cleared his throat, clearly eager to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “So anyway, it just goes to show that you can get out of this sort of thing. The only problem is, I can’t find any good details on how they all got away.”

“Don’t bother,” Sirius said gloomily, his earlier bravado completely deflated. “Even if you did find out—none of them had my mother to contend with. You know what she’s like. She’s probably going to make us take the Unbreakable Vow.”

“She wouldn’t!” James gasped, horrified at the thought.

“She’d do anything,” Sirius nodded, the hopelessness in his voice making James’s heart clench.

Remus didn’t respond, his brow furrowing as he chewed on his lip, clearly lost in thought. The conversation fizzled out, and James and Sirius eventually clambered onto their respective beds, a heavy silence settling over the room like a thick fog.

As James lay there, staring up at the ceiling, guilt gnawed at him. He’d let Remus do all this research alone while he’d been off Marauding with Sirius, ignoring the very real problem that was looming over them like a dark cloud. It was immature and stupid, and James knew it. But how could he resist when Sirius’s face lit up every time they plotted a new prank? When that familiar mischievous twinkle appeared in Sirius’s eyes whenever he suggested something even more outrageous?

In that way, James and Sirius were similar—they both lived in the moment because looking at the future was terrifying. The uncertainty, the looming responsibilities—it was easier to push them aside and focus on the now. And right now, James knew how to make Sirius happy. He wasn’t analytical or clever like Remus; he couldn’t delve into research and unearth some ancient loophole. But he understood people. 

Maybe he could try with Regulus again. After all, Regulus was still just a kid, and James was good with people. If that didn’t work, then at least he could make sure Sirius had a reason to smile until summer came. And after that, well… James would just have to take it from there.

Chapter Text

May 1973

Exam season hit James like a rogue Bludger, right when spring was starting to make everything look annoyingly cheerful. Mid-May brought with it a frenzy of revision, professors droning on about year-end grades, and a suffocating sense of impending doom. James felt like his mind was as messy as his hair—no time for pranks (despite Sirius’s persistent nagging), Peter on the verge of tears every time he cracked open a book, and Remus… well, Remus was a whole other level of odd lately.

Usually, Remus had this effortless control over his magic, like breathing. But as exams loomed closer, it was as if his wand had developed a mind of its own—one that was intent on wreaking havoc. Every spell he tried seemed to go haywire. He’d aim to levitate a book, and it’d shoot up to the ceiling, or he’d cast a simple Lumos and nearly blind the lot of them. 

“Calm down, Moony!” James found himself saying at least three times a day, trying to keep the mood light as Remus practised basic spells that inevitably went spectacularly wrong. But it was hard to watch. Every time frustration flared in Remus’s amber eyes, James felt a pang in his chest. It all came to a head when Remus, attempting to levitate his Gobstone set, accidentally smashed the dorm window for the third time.

“Reparo,” Sirius muttered, barely looking up from his Astronomy notes as the shattered glass reassembled itself. He went right back to revising, but James caught the little sigh that escaped Remus.

“You really need to relax, mate,” James grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “We don’t have any practical exams until next week, anyway.”

“I’m so behind, though!” Remus frowned, gathering up his Gobstones with a frustrated huff. James couldn’t help but smile—‘behind’ for Remus meant he hadn’t done a second reading of the texts, paired with some independent research. Typical.

“If you’re behind, then what am I?!” Peter wailed from the floor, surrounded by a chaotic spread of textbooks from different subjects. “I know I’m going to fail Transfiguration. My rabbit hasn’t changed at all this year, and McGonagall’s bound to give us something impossible.”

“At least you’re good at Potions,” Remus shot back. “And Herbology. I can never remember which leaves do what…”

“You beat me on the last Herbology quiz,” James reminded him, “and you’ve got us all by the bollocks when it comes to History of Magic. I’ve been copying your homework all year.”

“But you’re the best at Transfig—” Remus began, but Sirius cut him off with a sudden outburst. His blue eyes flashed with frustration as he slammed his Astronomy book shut and threw it onto the floor with a heavy thump. Peter flinched, startled by the unexpected noise.

“Will you all just shut up?! I’m trying to revise!” Sirius snapped, standing up abruptly. “You’re all like a bunch of old women nattering. I’m off to the library.” He grabbed his satchel and stormed out, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

For a moment, no one said anything. Peter gnawed on his lip, looking dangerously close to tears, and James let out a weary sigh. “Ignore him,” he said softly. “He’s just in a mood because he has to go home soon. Not that I blame him.” He added quickly, “Parents like that, and all.”

“S’pose,” Remus shrugged, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. James prided himself on understanding his friends, especially Sirius. He knew Sirius better than anyone, and he knew that whatever problems he had paled in comparison to what Sirius dealt with. So naturally, James felt it was his responsibility to help them out—especially Sirius.

“He’s not staying with you again this summer, then, James?” Peter asked nervously, looking slightly on edge, which struck James as a bit odd.

“Nah,” James replied, his usual cheerfulness dampened. “He’s got an open invite, obviously—you all have,” he added, glancing at Remus. “But we don’t reckon it’ll happen after the fiasco at Christmas. He thinks he’ll be locked up completely until the betrothal ceremony.”

A wave of guilt washed over James. He still hadn’t come up with a solution to the whole betrothal mess, and between revising and causing mischief with Sirius, he hadn’t even thought about it properly in weeks. From the way Narcissa had been hexing anyone who so much as looked at her sideways, it was clear she wasn’t thrilled about the idea either.

“Well, if he keeps acting the way he does, he’ll lose more than his hair next time,” Peter muttered primly, sorting through his notes.

“What’d you mean by that?” James asked, sitting up and frowning at Peter. “You saying it’s all his fault?”

“No!” Peter looked alarmed at James’s tone. “No, I just mean… well, you know, the other day he packed all those Gryffindor banners in his trunk. He wants to hang them up in his bedroom to annoy his parents. Stuff like that is exactly what gets him into trouble.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of House pride,” James sniffed defensively, though he couldn’t help but cast a nervous glance at Sirius’s trunk.

Remus stayed out of the argument, and James knew there was some truth in what Peter was saying—Sirius could be his own worst enemy at times. But Sirius was brilliant, fiercely intelligent, and magically gifted. The thought of him dimming his light or changing who he was just to appease his parents was unbearable to James. It wasn’t Sirius’s fault he’d been dealt a bad hand when it came to family, and he shouldn’t have to suffer because of it. 

James knew Peter and Remus didn’t quite see it the same way—they were less like Sirius than he was. But in James’s mind, the most important thing was to fight back. If you had nothing worth fighting for, what was the point of anything? And love—love was worth fighting for, simple as that.

* * *

James couldn’t help but puff out his chest a bit as McGonagall admired his transfigured rabbits. “Excellent, Mr. Potter!” she exclaimed, her voice rich with approval as she inspected the red velvet slippers that had once been lively little critters.

James stood a little taller, running his fingers through his hair with practiced nonchalance. He’d really put the hours into Transfiguration, especially over the past week, and last night, he’d nailed the spell perfectly. He was certain this would boost his grades from last year. He glanced over at Sirius, who was lazily waving his wand. His rabbits transformed effortlessly into a pair of sleek black woolen booties.

Remus, looking a tad nervous, gave his spell a try. His rabbits didn’t change colour, but they did transform neatly, much to McGonagall’s satisfaction. Peter, on the other hand, was having a rough go of it—his rabbits still had their ears and tails, and to top it off, his slippers were leaving droppings on McGonagall’s desk. She frowned, her patience visibly wearing thin.

Once the exam was over, McGonagall returned the rabbits to their original form and sent them hopping back into their hutch, ready for the next batch of students. She handed out sheets of parchment that resembled blank timetables.

“You will be aware,” she began, peering down her nose at them, “that in your third year, you may choose a minimum of two additional subjects up to Ordinary Wizarding Level. Here are your application sheets. Please review each subject’s merits carefully, complete the form, and return it to my office no later than the last day of term.”

The class buzzed with excitement, and James eagerly scanned his form. Sirius, still reading his sheet, ambled with him into the hall where Peter immediately began asking James about which courses he was thinking of taking—so they could maximise their time together.

“Muggle Studies,” Sirius declared, as they stepped out into the summer sunshine, “Definitely going to take Muggle Studies.”

“Do you think Evans will take it?” James wondered aloud, glancing at his paper. He’d stopped trying to hide his feelings for Lily; his friends had figured it out ages ago. Now he was just trying to be open about it. It would be a lot easier to ask her out if she knew he was interested.

“Doubt it, mate,” Sirius replied, “She’s Muggle-born. But you could impress her with your newfound knowledge.”

“Yeah… yeah, maybe…” James mused, thoughtful.

“Are you taking it, then, James?” Peter squeaked, looking anxious. “Do you think it’ll be difficult? We could always ask Remus for help… are you taking it, Moony?”

“Nah,” Remus said, shaking his head. “What’s the point? You lot do it, and maybe you’ll stop asking me for help.”

They found a spot on the grass and got comfortable. James shrugged out of his robes and said, “Divination… that’s like fortune-telling, right?”

“Crystal balls and tea leaves, I think,” Sirius said with a grin.

“Sounds like a right doss. I’m in.”

The three of them scribbled away on their papers. Remus didn’t seem to be writing much. James wasn’t particularly interested in the future; he preferred to live in the moment, and anyway, the future would come soon enough. Remus tapped his temple with his wand, muttering to himself.

“Arithmancy,” Remus mused, “Is that like arithmetic?”

“Numbers, anyway,” Sirius shrugged. “It’s supposed to be really tough.”

“Care of Magical Creatures… dunno about that,” James snorted. “Have you seen the teacher? He’s got more scars than Moony.”

“Oi!” Remus said, half-heartedly kicking James’s ankle while still poring over his form. Sirius glanced back at his paper.

“I think I’ll do Arithmancy if you are,” Sirius said.

“Will it be really difficult?” Peter asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“We’ll help you, Pete, don’t worry,” James reassured him. “Anyway, there’s more to third year than extra homework—Hogsmeade!”

“You go to Honeydukes three times a week,” Remus pointed out absently.

“Yeah, but Zonko’s!”

Remus looked up and gave him a resigned grin. James reached out and ruffled his friend’s hair affectionately, then turned his face up to the sun, letting the warmth sink into his skin. The grass felt soft beneath his fingers, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. A soft laugh reached his ears, pulling him from his reverie.

He glanced up, and there was Lily, strolling by the lake with Mary and Marlene. Lily walked with an effortless grace, her vibrant hair catching the sunlight and casting a fiery halo around her. Her emerald-green eyes sparkled as they caught the light.

James felt a surge of excitement. This was his chance—an opportunity to catch Lily’s attention in a casual setting. He quickly sat up, running a hand through his unruly hair, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

“Oi, oi, Evans!”

“I’m not a dog, Potter,” Lily called back, her voice ringing across the grounds. “Don’t shout at me like one.” Mary shot Sirius a cheeky grin.

“Hi, Sirius.”

Sirius, effortlessly cool as ever, swept his hair back. James felt a twinge of envy at how effortlessly Sirius made it look. “All right, MacDonald,” Sirius said.

Remus sat up, blinking as Marlene gave him a shy wave, which he returned.

All three girls were enjoying ice creams—an excellent choice given the unusually warm weather. Lily had even charmed a Chinese fan to follow her around, creating a refreshing breeze wherever they went.

“Give us a lick, then,” James cajoled Lily, giving her a cheeky wink. Marlene turned beetroot red and dissolved into giggles, but Lily kept her cool, arching a brow.

“You do look like you need cooling off. Aguamenti!”

Her wand flicked towards the Marauders, dousing them with icy water. Remus managed to dodge, but James and Sirius were completely soaked. Sirius yelped in surprise, instinctively shielding himself. The girls erupted in laughter.

“What’d you do that for?” Sirius spluttered, glaring at them with his wet hair plastered to his face, looking like a drowned rat.

“Thought you lot liked practical jokes?” Lily asked innocently, turning with a wink and leading her friends back towards the lake.

“Complete nightmare, that one,” Sirius groaned, attempting a Hot Air Charm on his dripping hair.

“That’s my future wife you’re talking about,” James said dreamily, watching her saunter away. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. You’ll dry out in half an hour in this heat.”

“Where do you think they got the ice cream?” Peter asked distantly, still eyeing the girls.

James sighed, lying back in the grass and glancing over at Remus, who had resumed his sunbathing with a serene expression. There was hardly a drop of water on his robes. James removed his glasses to wipe away the fogged-up lenses, smiling fondly.

At least I made her laugh.

Chapter Text

Friday 29th June 1973

“D’you reckon we’ll manage it?” James asked, stifling a yawn. They lay side by side on their backs, gazing up at the heavy red drapes encircling their bed. Sirius scoffed.

“Course we will! We’re Marauders, aren’t we?”

The Silencing Charm around the bed muted most of the outside noise, but James still heard the clock strike midnight. It was officially their last day at Hogwarts.

“We certainly are,” James grinned, closing his eyes. His voice was taking on that sluggish, dreamy quality that preceded sleep. Sirius shifted slightly, nudging him, and James’s eyes fluttered open again.

“Mmm?” he mumbled, groggy. Sirius hesitated, his deep blue eyes searching James’s face, as if imploring him to bring up a topic Sirius seemed reluctant to mention.

James reached out and gently combed his fingers through Sirius’s long hair, detangling it absentmindedly. He wished he could read Sirius’s mind, to always know what was troubling him and to offer help. It was James’s greatest wish—to be able to understand his best friend completely.

James murmured, “Reckon we should—” he yawned mid-sentence, “head to bed, yeah? Got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Sirius nodded, though he made no move to actually get up.

“Er… everything alright?”

James was staring at him, struggling to keep his eyelids from drooping. He was fighting to stay awake, but Sirius’s stillness was unsettling.

Sirius took a deep breath and mumbled, “Idon’tknowifI’mcomingback.”

The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. James sat up, blinking in confusion.

“What?”

“I… d’you remember how my mum threatened to send me to Durmstrang?”

“Yeah, but—You don’t think she’d—”

“She might.”

James opened and closed his mouth, dumbfounded. This was the last thing he’d expected Sirius to say. Sirius spoke quickly, “It’s just—well, with the betrothal and everything, y’know… it’s a big deal. A big ceremony. And once they announce it to everyone, they’ll want to make sure that I—well, that I don’t, I dunno, spoil it somehow.”

“How would you coming back to Hogwarts ruin it?” James asked, indignant. “You’d already be—well, you know!”

Sirius looked down at his hands, fidgeting. “You don’t understand what my parents are like. Everything’s about appearances with them. If they announce to the whole wizarding world that the Black heir is engaged, it’ll be like everyone’s suddenly watching.”

“But that’s absurd!”

“I know.”

“I mean, who do they think even cares that much about what you do?”

“I dunno.”

“Where’s this coming from? I thought you said Durmstrang was just an empty threat.”

Sirius sighed, looking helpless. “I thought it was! She was just sending me Howlers, after all… but I had a sort of… conversation with Reg.”

“What! When?”

“Er… a few months ago.”

James felt a pang in his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sirius shrugged, avoiding James’s gaze. The silence that followed was tense and thick. James reached out and grasped Sirius’s shoulder firmly.

“I won’t let them send you away,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “No matter what. Okay?”

Sirius swallowed visibly, his eyes reflecting uncertainty. “Okay,” he whispered, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely convinced.

* * *

The next morning, James woke up bright and early, just as he’d promised. The Marauders’ final mission of the year was set to take up the entire day and required them to sneak into and out of every bathroom on every floor of Hogwarts. Sirius and James were assigned the spell-casting duties, and they’d already divided up the targets. They had decided it was best to stay conspicuously separated throughout the day to avoid drawing any undue suspicion.

Peter and Remus were still fast asleep when the other two boys headed down for breakfast, which wasn’t exactly a shock—Peter had a habit of forgetting his alarm, and Remus was notoriously slow and grumpy in the mornings. Sirius wolfed down his food with barely contained excitement and, while James was still munching away, took a moment to prepare a plate for Remus, layering four thick slices of toast with four different spreads—the way Remus liked it.

Halfway through the meal, Peter scurried into the Great Hall, joining them with an apologetic look. Sirius shot a pointed glance at the entrance.

“Where’s Lupin?”

“He was just getting up when I came down,” Peter said, his mouth full of fried egg. “He’ll probably be a bit longer.”

“At this rate, he’ll miss breakfast altogether,” Sirius grumbled, standing up. “I’ll take this up to him.”

With Sirius off to locate Remus, James leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he turned to Peter. “Today’s the day, Pete! Hogwarts won’t know what hit it.”

Peter nodded but his expression held a touch of hesitation. “I just wish I was better at spell-casting. I feel like I’m letting you and Sirius down.”

James chuckled, dismissing Peter’s worries with a wave of his hand. “You’re doing fine. Besides, you’re in charge of lookout duty. We need someone quick and quiet, and that’s you.”

Peter managed a hesitant smile, but his eyes revealed more. “I know, but I wish I could help more. Especially you, James. You’re always teaming up with Sirius on these things.”

“Come on, Pete, you’re a crucial part of the team. You’re the one who came up with the idea to use the pink foam. Genius!”

Peter’s cheeks reddened at the praise, and he briefly met James’s gaze. “Thanks, James. It’s just… I’d like to spend more time with you, you know? Maybe learn a few spells together.”

James smiled warmly. “Absolutely, Pete. We can work on spells anytime you want. Today’s all about the prank, but after this, we’ve got the whole summer to polish our magical skills.”

A flicker of gratitude lit up in Peter’s eyes, and he nodded appreciatively. “Sounds great, James.”

With their plates cleared, James stood up and ruffled Peter’s blond hair affectionately. “Let’s get a move on. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

The Hogwarts kitchens were a hive of activity as James and Peter slipped through the door under a Disillusionment Charm. The house-elves bustled about, preparing for the last feast of the school year. The rich aroma of various dishes created a tantalising backdrop to their covert operation.

James and Peter made their way to the storeroom where the house-elves kept the plates, glasses, and other dining paraphernalia. Peter’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he glanced around.

“Alright, Pete, keep an eye out. We don’t want any house-elves catching us,” James whispered, his wand at the ready.

Peter nodded eagerly, his gaze darting around the room. “I’ve got you covered, James.”

James grinned, appreciating Peter’s enthusiasm. Despite their differences, he admired Peter’s loyalty and the meticulous way he planned pranks. Peter’s careful preparation complemented James’s flair for bold action, creating a balance that worked well.

As James began casting spells to prepare the goblets for the bubble spectacle, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the contrast between their methods. “You know, Pete, you’re probably the only one who could plan a prank with this level of precision. We make a great team.”

Peter beamed. “Thanks, James. I couldn’t do it without your… daring, shall we say?”

“I’ll teach you the spell, Pete. It’s not that tricky,” James offered, demonstrating the incantation.

Peter nodded and attempted to replicate the spell. However, his attempt resulted in a comical mishap—a goblet erupted in bubbles, splashing both boys in a soapy cascade.

Laughter filled the room as James clapped Peter on the back. “Well, mate, I suppose that’s one way to test the Bubble Charm.”

Peter chuckled, wiping away the bubbles. “Definitely. But it was worth it. This is going to be brilliant.”

Their laughter caught the attention of a nearby house-elf, who scowled and began chasing them out. James and Peter, bubbles trailing behind them, made a hasty exit, leaving the kitchen in stitches.

* * *

Once James and Peter had finished their work in the kitchens, James peeled away from his friend and made his way towards the first floor. He and Sirius had picked a classroom there as their rendezvous point. Sirius had been tasked with the upper floors, dashing up and down stairs, popping into every bathroom. James hoped Sirius had remembered to use Detection Spells before entering; it wouldn’t do for anyone to catch him mid-incantation.

James cast one of those very Detection Spells on their chosen classroom, just to be sure, before slipping inside. He closed the door behind him with a practiced hand and glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. Sirius was due to arrive any minute to hand over the Invisibility Cloak, which James needed for the lower floors.

Everything was going according to plan so far. James and Peter had managed to infiltrate the kitchens and set up the groundwork for tonight’s grand prank. Now, James just needed to take the cloak from Sirius and finish the bathrooms. Peter would then retrieve the cloak from James, use it to fetch magical cleaning supplies from Filch’s cupboard, and pass them to Remus, who would stash them away and collect the umbrellas from the storage shed, hiding them in the dorm room. After that, all that was left was to revel in the chaos and get ready for phase two.

James hopped onto one of the desks, wiping his glasses with the hem of his shirt. As he was settling in, there was a knock on the door, and he sprang off the desk in excitement.

He flung open the door with a grin. “Did you finish it?!”

Sirius pushed past him, shutting the door firmly behind him, and threw off the Invisibility Cloak. “Of course I did!” he said, tossing his hair dramatically. “Now it’s your turn. How’d things go in the kitchens?”

“Perfectly,” James said, taking the cloak from Sirius’s outstretched hands with a flourish. “Marvelously, wondrously, magnificently—”

“Alright, alright! I get the picture,” Sirius laughed, shaking his head. James’s impish grin widened as he draped the cloak over his shoulders, making it look as though his head was floating in mid-air. Before he could fully complete his disappearing act, Sirius added casually, “And we’re sure Peter’ll be okay? With the closet and everything?”

“Yes,” James replied emphatically, “Have a little faith, Black! He’s a Marauder too.”

“I know, I know,” Sirius said, with a note of hesitation. James could see that Sirius wasn’t entirely comfortable with Peter being given such responsibility—though James couldn’t fathom why. Peter had never let them down, not intentionally at least. Sirius’s frequent disdain for the smallest Marauder was a bit of a sore spot, but he had improved at keeping his snarky comments in check. James just wanted them all to get along. They were friends now, but he knew that Sirius and Peter would never be as close to each other as they were to him.

“Wish me luck!” James threw the cloak over his head with a flourish.

“Good luck!” Sirius whispered back, cracking the door open just long enough for James to slip out before closing it behind him.

James hurried through the castle corridors, the Invisibility Cloak draped around him like a secretive shroud. Amidst the thrill of the impending prank, a sudden thought jolted him—he had forgotten to submit his elective choices to Professor McGonagall.

With newfound determination, James changed course and dashed to McGonagall’s office. Bursting in with a grin, he announced, “Almost forgot to submit my brilliant choices for next year’s electives, Professor.”

McGonagall, deep in her work, glanced up and accepted the timetable. “Arithmancy, Divination, and Muggle Studies. A popular combination among your group.”

Peter was only taking Divination and Muggle Studies—he had figured out that only two new subjects were required and decided to keep it simple. James, on the other hand, was just happy to be in the same classes as his friends and seized any chance to do so.

James flashed a confident grin. “Well, Professor, why break up a winning team, right?”

McGonagall’s stern expression softened into a slight smile. “You are a bright boy, Mr. Potter. But do remember, don’t let your talents go to waste on unnecessary mischief.”

James waved off her advice nonchalantly. “Ah, Professor, where’s the fun in life without a bit of mischief?”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and fondness in her gaze. “Just be mindful, Mr. Potter. You have great potential.”

James winked. “Potential for mischief, you mean.”

Their exchange revealed the unique bond they shared—a blend of respect, affection, and occasional exasperation. As James prepared to leave, his curiosity got the better of him. He turned back to McGonagall. “By the way, any idea what electives Lily Evans is taking?”

McGonagall’s eyes twinkled. “I’m afraid that’s not information I can divulge.”

Unfazed, James pressed on, “Not even a tiny hint?”

A sly smile crept onto McGonagall’s lips. “I can share this much—she’s not taking Muggle Studies.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed James’s face, but he masked it with a shrug. “Why the interest, Mr. Potter?”

“Just curious,” James said breezily. “Anyway, got to run!”

With that, he exited the office and resumed his journey towards the lower-floor bathrooms.

About an hour later, James finished with the last bathroom in the dungeons. The lower floors were now thoroughly prepped for the prank, and Hogwarts was on the brink of a spectacular display. With a mischievous grin, he wandered into the corridor, only to spot Regulus and Narcissa deep in conversation. He tightened the Invisibility Cloak around himself.

Regulus’s voice, tinged with concern, reached James’s ears. “Do you really think it’s a good idea, Cissy? Taking advice from one of Sirius’s half-blood friends?”

Narcissa, her expression serious yet thoughtful, replied, “I may not be fond of the Marauders, but Lupin’s plan is solid. It’s the best option we have.”

Regulus pressed on, worry etched in his features. “But are you sure about this? It’s a risky move.”

Narcissa reassured him, her tone confident. “Everything will be fine, Regulus. Lupin is the smartest one out of that bunch. I appreciate your concern, but I’ve made up my mind.”

Regulus sighed, clearly uneasy. “Just be careful, Cissy.”

With a small smile, Narcissa replied, “I will. Now, I’d better head back to the common room. Who knows how many bathrooms those Marauders have tampered with?” She cast a final glance down the corridor.

As Narcissa walked away, Regulus remained alone, leaning against the wall, his fingers threading through his dark hair. James observed from a distance, noting the unspoken weight on Regulus’s shoulders—a burden that James could sense but didn’t fully understand. For a moment, James wondered about the complexities of Regulus’s life, the layers beneath the enigmatic exterior.

Unable to resist, James pulled off his cloak and approached Regulus with his trademark grin.

“Hey there, Little Black,” James greeted, the playful nickname rolling off his tongue. “Looking like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders. Everything alright?”

Regulus shot him a disdainful look. “Why don’t you run along, Golden Boy? I don’t need your concern.”

Ignoring the rebuff, James pressed on, “You and Narcissa seemed deep in conversation. Remus came up. What was that about?”

Regulus, predictably, fortified his defences. “Black family matters, Potter. None of your business.”

James chuckled. “Come on, Little Black, I’m Sirius’s friend. You can trust me.”

A scoff escaped Regulus. “Trust you? That’s rich, Golden Boy.”

“Just admit it, Little Black. You’re dying to tell me,” James persisted, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Regulus sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“That’s the spirit! Now, spill,” James urged, convinced he was on the verge of getting the coveted information.

But Regulus’s composure cracked, frustration pouring out. “You really need to learn to mind your own business, Potter! It’s astonishing how you can’t resist meddling in everyone else’s affairs. If you’re so bloody curious, just ask Remus! Quit sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!”

James, taken aback by the sudden outburst, tried to interject. “Regulus, I—”

Regulus continued, his frustration mounting. “And don’t get me started on that insatiable curiosity of yours. It’s a miracle you haven’t landed yourself in Azkaban with the way you constantly poke around. Curiosity killed the cat, Potter, and one of these days, it might just catch up to you!”

As Regulus ranted on, James grew increasingly alarmed, realising that the bathroom would explode any second. He attempted to interrupt, “Regulus, seriously, you need to—”

But Regulus was on a roll, his words gaining speed. “You act like being curious is some kind of virtue. It’s not, Potter. It’s dangerous. You need to learn to let things be and stop poking at every little thing like a child with a stick!”

“Little Black, as much as I appreciate your unsolicited wisdom on curiosity, there’s something you really need to know,” James interjected, his gaze fixed warily on the nearest bathroom stall.

Regulus waved him off dismissively. “Potter, I don’t have time for your—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the bathroom next to them erupted in a thunderous explosion. James, reacting instinctively, grabbed Regulus’s arm, trying to pull him out of the way. “Look out!”

Regulus, oblivious to the imminent danger, stubbornly resisted James’s efforts. “Let go of me! I’m not finished—”

The door to the bathroom burst open, and a massive wave of pink foam surged outwards. James, with Regulus’s arms still in a vice-like grip, was thrown into the path of the frothy deluge. The two of them were unceremoniously engulfed in a frothy cascade, the bathroom’s carefully laid prank exploding in all its soapy glory.

Chapter Text

As Regulus was shoved into him, James felt the unexpected weight of the younger boy pressing against him. Their eyes met briefly, and James couldn’t help but notice the intensity in Regulus’s gaze. There was a fleeting hint of vulnerability, perhaps even a blush, before Regulus recoiled, breaking their brief contact.

“Whoops, sorry about that, Little Black,” James said with a smirk, trying to mask his own bemusement.

Regulus rolled his eyes, pushing himself off James and standing up, brushing foam from his robes with a scowl. “Watch where you’re going next time, Golden Boy.”

James chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows and surveying the chaos. “Oh, come on, Little Black, don’t be such a grump. It’s just a bit of foam.”

Regulus shot him a glare, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Easy for you to say when you’re not the one getting ambushed by it.”

James grinned mischievously and scooped up a handful of foam, flinging it at Regulus. “Consider it payback for crashing into me.”

Regulus scoffed, but then, unexpectedly, retaliated by ruffling foam into James’s hair. James laughed, running his hands through his now even messier hair. “Alright, you asked for it!”

The two boys dove into an impromptu foam fight, their banter flowing as freely as the bubbles around them. 

“You fight like a first-year, Little Black!” James teased, dodging another foam projectile with surprising agility.

“I am one—what’s your excuse, Golden Boy?” Regulus retorted, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And I don’t look like I’ve been attacked by a Flobberworm!”

James feigned offence. “Hey, my hair’s my trademark! Can’t mess with the classics.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Whatever you say, Potter.”

As they frolicked in the pink foam, James noticed something rare—a genuine laugh escaping from Regulus. It was like catching a glimpse of a rare creature in the wild. “Hey, did you just laugh?”

But as quickly as the laughter appeared, Regulus’s facade hardened, the moment of levity vanishing. James watched as Regulus retreated into his usual guarded self, the spark of joy extinguished too soon.

Before James could say anything further, the sound of Barty Crouch Jr. approaching cut through their moment. Regulus tensed, his expression closing off, and without another word, turned to leave.

James called out, his voice softer now, tinged with genuine concern. “Hey, Little Black, wait.”

Regulus paused, glancing back at James with a guarded look.

“It’s okay, you know,” James said gently, pushing himself up from the foam-covered floor. “To laugh, I mean. You don’t always have to be so serious.”

Regulus’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, as if he didn’t quite know how to respond to James’s sincerity.

“You don’t need to hide it,” James continued, his voice carrying across the space between them. “Being a kid, having fun—it’s allowed, even for you.”

There was a moment of silence as Regulus regarded James, his usual stoic facade momentarily softened by James’s words.

The moment was shattered when Barty Crouch Jr. stepped into view, his eyes narrow and accusatory. 

“What’s this, Reg?” Barty sneered, jabbing a finger at James. “Hanging out with this blood traitor now, are we?”

James felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him as Barty loomed closer, invading Regulus’s personal space. Without hesitation, James stepped between them, pulling Regulus back slightly. “Hey, ease up, Crouch,” he said, his voice steady despite the rising tension. “Regulus doesn’t need your harassment.”

Barty’s eyes narrowed as he glared at James, his fists clenched at his sides. “Stay out of this, Potter. This is between me and Regulus.”

James stood his ground, his jaw set with determination. “I won’t stand by and watch you bully him.”

Barty’s lip curled into a sneer. “Bullying? Please, Potter. I’m just looking out for my friend.”

James’s temper flared at Barty’s dismissive tone. “Looking out for him? More like controlling him,” he retorted, frustration edging his voice.

Regulus remained silent, his gaze shifting between James and Barty, his expression inscrutable.

Just as the tension reached its peak, Barty raised his wand, a hex poised to strike. James’s heart raced, preparing to defend himself.

But before either of them could act, Regulus stepped forward, his movements swift and decisive. He deflected Barty’s hex with a practiced flick of his wand, his eyes flashing with determination.

“Stop it, both of you,” Regulus commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “This ends now.”

Barty’s anger shifted to confusion. “Reg, what are you doing?”

Regulus met Barty’s gaze, his tone unwavering. “Stop it, Barty. Potter isn’t worth it. I can handle my own fights.”

James’s heart clenched at the implication behind Regulus’s words. He realised that Regulus wasn’t just talking about this confrontation; he was talking about something deeper, something more personal.

“I don’t need protection,” Regulus added, his gaze lingering on James for a moment longer.

Before Barty could protest further, Regulus took charge, pulling him away with a firm hand. James was left alone amidst the remnants of their foam fight, the moment of camaraderie having slipped away as if it had never been.

* * *

After getting waylaid multiple times in the corridors by other students keen to engage him in impromptu pink foam wars, James finally made it back to the common room. He’d been searching for Peter, who had promised to help him pack, but the blond boy was nowhere to be found. The common room was buzzing with end-of-term energy, and as James entered, he saw Sirius standing in the middle of it, flanked by Mary and Marlene. The three of them were grinning, and Mary grabbed Marlene’s hand before they both disappeared into the girls' dormitory.

“Oi, Black! Don’t tell me you’re abandoning us for that lot, too!”

Sirius turned, flashing a grin as James clambered through the portrait hole. His hair was a wild mess, sticking out at odd angles, and his glasses were askew. His robes were still damp from the foam fight, and James hoped Sirius would chalk it up to a bit of post-prank mishap rather than a messy encounter with Regulus.

“It’s a curse being this beautiful,” Sirius declared, flipping his hair dramatically, “The ladies just can’t stay away.”

James snorted. “Keep telling yourself that, mate. Hey, have you seen Peter?”

“Not a glimpse.”

“Damn. I told him I’d help him pack, but I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Probably got lost on that moving staircase again,” Sirius suggested with a chuckle.

James laughed. “Yeah, that’s probably it.” He looked away briefly, then back with a hint of hesitation. “You know… I could help you pack too, if you really need it—”

“No.” Sirius’s tone was firm. James had been subtly hinting at Sirius to start packing for about a week now, but Sirius had steadfastly refused each time. With the end of term looming and the night stretching before them, James knew Sirius’s notorious procrastination might mean that nothing would get packed at all.

“It’s just that it’s our last day, and we probably won’t have time in the morning—”

“No! Just drop it, alright?” Sirius snapped, his frustration evident. James hesitated, studying his friend’s face.

“Alright, mate. No packing, got it.”

There was a moment of tense silence, and James mentally kicked himself for making things awkward. Why couldn’t he just mind his own bloody business? He sensed there was more to Sirius’s frustration, something deeper. So, in true James fashion, he decided to do what he did best—try to make people smile.

“Fancy a turn around the grounds, then?” James said with a benign smile, acting as though he couldn’t sense Sirius’s dark mood. “Perfect day for flying. I think I saw some other students grabbing their brooms. Reckon we could get enough people together for a game of Quidditch…”

Sirius’s eyes lit up, the anger receding as quickly as it had flared. “What are we waiting for, then?” The tension broke, and they raced upstairs to grab their brooms. James realised that, at the end of the day, seeing Sirius smile was all that mattered.

* * *

James spent two blissful hours hurtling across the Quidditch pitch, the wind tangling his hair and the sun warming his face. True to his word, he’d managed to rally a group of students for an impromptu game. Madam Hooch had reluctantly let them borrow one of the Quaffles from the shed, though she’d sternly refused to release any Snitches or Bludgers. Still, the makeshift game was a triumph of sorts; they spent a brilliant afternoon chasing each other and attempting to score goals. Peter eventually found them, and though he seemed a bit self-conscious about stepping in as Keeper—especially when it wasn’t just the three of them—James had managed to coax him into playing with some enthusiastic encouragement.

Eventually, the game wrapped up, and James, his head still buzzing with the thrill of the match, fabricated a vague excuse about needing to head back to the castle. He was still worried about Sirius and had swiftly resolved to pack for his friend himself. He hoped Sirius wouldn’t catch on, because, as much as people loved to remind him, he excelled at many things—but lying wasn’t one of them. His mum always said he didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body; the only reason he could keep secrets at all was the fierce loyalty he had for his friends.

James had been packing for a good thirty minutes when the door to their dorm swung open, and a pair of startled amber eyes met his.

“Hiya, Moony,” James greeted with a grin. “Nice job with the umbrellas.”

“Yeah, well done with the foam. Filch is absolutely fuming.” Remus rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, clearly unsure. “Where’s Sirius?”

“Probably doing something daft on his broom,” James replied casually. “Thought I’d sort this mess out for him.”

“Do you want help?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Didn’t you want to curl up with a book or something?”

Remus shrugged, still looking a bit out of place. James hoped he didn’t seem like he was brushing him off—he actually wanted Remus there more than anything.

“S’okay, I’ll help you.” Remus said nonchalantly, as if it didn’t matter much either way. “You know I’m not keen on flying.”

“Cheers,” James said, gathering up some of Sirius’s chaotic belongings and sorting them with a practiced hand. Remus began tidying up the records, meticulously stacking them in alphabetical order—because Sirius liked it that way, of course. “Put those in my trunk,” James said, nodding towards the box of records. “The Muggle books too. Said I’d look after them for him, given the state of things with his mum and dad.”

Remus nodded and carried the items over to James’s bed.

“Going to be a rubbish summer without you two,” James remarked, genuinely feeling the pang of separation.

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, his tone uncertain.

“Sirius thinks… he might not be coming back in September.”

“What?!” Remus’s head snapped up, alarm clear in his expression. James frowned, nodding in confirmation.

“Yeah, he reckons with this betrothal nonsense… they might send him to Durmstrang. Keep him out of trouble until they can marry him off. It’s drastic, but honestly, I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“The betrothal ceremony might not happen, though,” Remus said quickly, a hint of conviction in his voice. “I have a feeling… Narcissa won’t let it go through.” James studied Remus, curious about his sudden confidence. Remus fell silent, leaving James to wonder if whatever Narcissa and Regulus had discussed truly involved Remus. And if so, what had Remus proposed that made even Narcissa Black consider it? What could possibly relate to Sirius’s engagement?

“Narcissa?” James asked, puzzled. “What are you on about?”

“I just know she doesn’t want to marry Sirius any more than he wants to marry her, that’s all.” Remus shook his head, then added, “Shall I pack his Muggle magazines in your trunk too?”

James couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Sirius’s odd collection of reading material. “Yeah, might as well. Thanks, Moony.”

* * *

They regrouped with Sirius and Peter in the common room before heading down to the Great Hall. The Gryffindor boys were among the first to arrive, huddling around a bench and whispering conspiratorially, ensuring everyone was aligned for their grand finale prank of the year. As they listened to the others recount their day’s exploits, it became apparent that everything had gone off without a hitch. James could hardly contain his excitement, practically bouncing in his seat as more students began to filter in. Mary and Marlene settled a little way off, with Marlene flashing James a small smile that he returned with equal warmth.

The feast lived up to its usual splendour—the house-elves had truly outdone themselves with the pudding, and James felt a deep sense of contentment as the final remnants of his meal disappeared from his plate. Ravenclaw had claimed the House Cup that year, so the hall was draped in royal blue and bronze silk banners that shimmered in the flickering candlelight, making James feel a bit as though he were floating underwater. He turned his attention away from the hypnotic banners to watch as Dumbledore rose and made his way to the podium, his eyes twinkling as he beamed at the students.

“What a wonderful year it’s been,” Dumbledore began, his voice echoing warmly through the hall. “I am immensely proud of all of you. Now that we are all well-fed, I have a few words I would like to share…”

“Ready, lads?” Sirius whispered, practically vibrating with anticipation. James exchanged a glance with the other Marauders, and the collective thrill was palpable. Dumbledore continued,

“...congratulations once again to Ravenclaw…”

“Now!” Sirius hissed, barely able to keep his excitement contained.

“...for winning this year’s House—”

A shriek erupted from the far end of the hall, abruptly cutting off the Headmaster’s voice. Heads swivelled, eyes wide with shock as every single goblet on the Ravenclaw table burst into fountains of red and gold bubbles. They shot towards the ceiling like geysers, bursting and showering bright droplets down onto the students below, staining everything they touched with streaks of Gryffindor crimson.

“Keep going!” Sirius whispered, his voice a high-pitched blend of exhilaration and anxiety. The Marauders flicked their wands with all their concentration. The goblets on every other table erupted in turn, causing the same chaotic effect as students shrieked and scrambled for cover, their hair, skin, and clothes streaked with vibrant red and gold.

Even the Gryffindor table wasn't spared—James had insisted on that particular detail. Lily Evans had somehow managed to acquire an umbrella, and Marlene and Mary were jostling to squeeze underneath it, laughing all the while. James grinned, tilting his head back to let the droplets streak through his hair, turning his dark brown mop into a shimmering gold mess. In the far corner of the hall, James spotted a furious Narcissa cowering beneath a table, her long white hair now marred with red and gold that clashed dreadfully with her porcelain complexion.

She glared at Sirius with such intensity that James half-expected him to spontaneously combust. But he took comfort in what Remus had mentioned earlier: Narcissa was just as desperate to avoid the engagement as Sirius was, especially after this spectacle.

“Omnistratum!” Dumbledore intoned calmly, aiming his wand at the ceiling. 

The bubbles burst and evaporated into nothing, as though an invisible force field had materialised overhead. “Scourgify!” The Headmaster continued, his wand waving gracefully over the hall. Instantly, the red and gold paint vanished from the tables, floor, and students. Order was swiftly restored.

“Aw,” James sighed, disappointed.

“An excellent way to celebrate Gryffindor’s victory on the Quidditch pitch this year,” Dumbledore continued, his voice clear and resolute as students clambered back into their seats, eyeing their goblets with renewed caution. “And while I welcome and encourage displays of House pride, I would like everyone to remember that true sportsmanship lies in the ability to gracefully cede victory. Please join me in raising your glasses to Ravenclaw, winners of the Hogwarts House Cup 1973.”

James grinned widely, his spirits undampened. He clapped enthusiastically with the rest of the students, privately plotting even grander schemes for the next year’s finale. 

Leaning closer to Sirius, James whispered, “Brilliant! Absolutely bloody brilliant! We’ll have to come up with something even bigger next year to top that!”

Sirius nodded eagerly, and James could see Peter’s grin reflecting his own excitement. He noticed Remus and Lily raising their goblets in a toast, and as he took in the scene around him, he hoped that nothing would ever change. 

Chapter Text

Saturday 30th June 1973

Dear James,

Just walked through the door at home and have already been lectured about “bringing shame to the family” five times. Can you believe it? And get this, three of those times were from those old portraits hanging around here. Honestly, they’re more judgmental than my mum on a bad day. 

I’m considering redecorating with Gryffindor banners just to see their gormless faces. Might be worth it for the entertainment value alone.

Hope you made it back in one piece.

Cheers,

Sirius O. Black.

* * *

Dear Sirius,

I can practically picture the scene. It sounds like you're having a right royal reception back at the manor. Just remember, keep ruffling their feathers. If anyone can give them a run for their money, it's you.

As for me, I made it back without a hitch. Mum’s already on about schoolwork, but that’s standard fare. I’d take her nagging over the portrait critiques any day of the week.

Do keep me posted on your Gryffindor-themed rebellion. I’m keen to hear how the old family relics take it.

Take care,

James.

The sun poured through the window, casting long shadows as James eagerly ripped open the latest reply from Sirius, his heart racing with anticipation. But before he could even take in a word, a dark, suffocating smoke enveloped him, choking the air from his lungs.

“Dad!” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper as he collapsed to the floor, struggling to breathe.

His dad burst into the room, eyes wide with alarm. Without hesitation, he rushed to James’s side, his wand already in hand as he muttered a spell to disperse the curse. The smoke cleared, and fresh air filled James’s lungs once more. Fleamont scooped him up, carrying him out into the sunlight with an urgent speed.

“James, what happened?” he asked, frustration and worry mingling in his voice.

“It’s from Sirius,” James managed to gasp, his voice still shaky.

Understanding dawned in Fleamont’s eyes, replaced quickly by a fierce look of anger. “Walburga,” he muttered, his voice tight with fury.

Confusion clouded James’s mind as he tried to process the situation. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Fleamont’s expression softened as he held James close. “James, you can’t send any more letters to Sirius,” he said firmly, his voice edged with concern. “It’s too dangerous.”

James pulled away, eyes wide with disbelief. “But I can’t just leave Sirius to suffer in that house!” he protested, frustration rising in his voice. “I’m not a child anymore, Dad. I can make my own decisions.”

Fleamont sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re growing up, James,” he said softly, sadness in his tone. “But you’re still my son, and your safety will always come first.”

James bit his lip, feeling a surge of frustration. “But what about Sirius? What about what his family is doing to him?” he demanded, voice cracking with emotion.

Fleamont’s gaze softened, and he cupped James’s face in his hands. “There are dark things happening, James,” he admitted, concern heavy in his voice. “But right now, I want you to be a kid. I don’t want you to bear the weight of the world.”

Tears pricked at James’s eyes as he nodded, leaning into his father’s embrace. “Okay, Dad,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I just can’t sit back and do nothing. I have to help Sirius.”

Fleamont sighed, his arms tightening around James. “I know, James. And we’ll find a way to help him, I promise,” he said, determination firm in his voice. “But for now, let’s focus on keeping you safe.”

As James sank into his father’s arms, he felt a mixture of comfort and frustration. Fleamont’s protective instincts were clear, but so was James’s fierce determination. In that moment, he understood the gravity of the situation, but it did little to quench his resolve. He would find a way to support Sirius, no matter what.

* * *

Friday 13th July 1973

Dear Moony,

You’ve got to come and visit soon—Peter and I are at the brink of losing our minds here! The manor’s about as lively as a tomb. 

Don’t bother sending Sirius any owls for now. His mother intercepted mine and sent them back with curses attached! It was a right mess, and Dad had to step in before things got really nasty. I’m thinking of trying to reach out to his cousin Andromeda to see if she has any Muggle tricks up her sleeve for getting post through. If it’s anything like the Muggle Studies books, we’re all doomed, but it might be worth a shot.

Let me know if you can swing by. Mum’s got an open-door policy—she practically begged you to visit. We can chat with your Matron and Madam Pomfrey if needed. Heck, we might even have to drag in the Minister of Magic himself!

James.

* * *

Dear James,

I understand how the post works, but I’d need to nick some stamps, and I’ve no idea where Sirius’s new address is. It’s a bit tricky, you see.

I spoke to Pomfrey after the last moon. She said no. The wizarding world is too dangerous for me, she said. I’m not sure if she meant I’m a danger or if she thinks I’m in danger. Either way, it’s a no-go for now.

Sorry, mate. 

Moony.

* * *

Sunday 5th August

Dear James,

You won’t believe the circus that unfolded at home. Honestly, it was like something out of one of those Muggle dramas Mary’s always going on about. The engagement ceremony was in full swing, and I was shoved into these ghastly green dress robes with lace cuffs. Can you even picture that? Regulus was there, smirking away like the little git he is, and my parents were in attendance, the whole lot of them.

Then Narcissa made her grand entrance, looking like she’d raided Gran’s wardrobe. She had this look on her face like she was about to hex someone. Turns out, she was. She stopped the whole affair right then and there. I thought, “Finally, someone with some backbone.” But then she dropped the bombshell.

She’d made an Unbreakable Vow to marry Lucius Malfoy as soon as she’s done with her N.E.W.T.s. 

In short, she’s shackled to that ferret-faced tosser for life—or until one of them kicks the bucket. Quite the class act, right? Makes you wonder what sort of charm school Malfoy attended.

The fallout was epic. The Black family feud reached new heights. Curses were flying everywhere, and my dad and uncle nearly ended up duelling. Narcissa nearly had me fooled for a second there. I almost started warming to her. But then she reminded me she’s a Black, through and through.

On the bright side, I’m off the hook now. No more pressure to uphold the family name. Looks like Reg’s next in line for the throne. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about the inheritance. I’d prefer they just leave me alone.

Anyway, I’ll be back at Hogwarts come September. Mum’s already hinting that Reg will be the new golden boy. Not my problem.

Hope your summer’s going better than mine. Bet you’re itching to see me soon, eh Potter?

Catch you later,

Sirius O. Black.

As James stepped out into the garden, the warm summer air greeted him, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. His excitement bubbled up as he tore open Sirius's latest letter, eager to share the news with Peter.

“Hey, Pete! Have you seen Sirius’s letter yet? You won’t believe the news!” James called out, barely containing his enthusiasm.

Peter looked up from his broom, a broad smile spreading across his face. “I got a letter this morning too, but I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. What’s the big news?”

“Sirius is off the hook!” James exclaimed, practically dancing on the spot. “Narcissa made an Unbreakable Vow to marry Lucius Malfoy, so Sirius doesn’t have to go through with the engagement!”

Peter’s face lit up with joy, matching James’s own excitement. “That’s incredible news, James! Sirius must be over the moon about it.”

“Yeah, he must be,” James agreed, his mind already racing ahead to celebrating the news. “Hey, how about we head down to the tavern tonight? It’ll be a proper celebration!”

Peter’s expression faltered, and James’s heart sank. 

“Actually, James, my family and I are leaving for France tonight. I thought I mentioned it already,” Peter said, his voice tinged with confusion.

James felt a jolt of panic, even though he knew Peter had mentioned it before. It felt like a sudden, cold shock to his system.

“Right, right, you did mention it,” he replied, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling. “Well, have a great trip, Pete! We’ll catch up when you get back.”

As the reality of spending the summer without Remus, Peter, or Sirius sunk in, a gnawing sense of dread began to take hold. The thought of being alone, without his closest friends, filled him with a deep, inexplicable fear.

What am I going to do without them?

What will they be up to?

Will they forget about me?

Will I be alone?

I can’t be alone—

“James, are you sure everything’s okay?” Peter’s voice cut through his turbulent thoughts, filled with concern.

James felt a wave of frustration, snapping back more sharply than intended. “I’m fine, Pete.”

Peter blinked up at him, a mix of shock and confusion in his pale eyes.

“I’m sorry,” James said, forcing a smile onto his face, trying to hide the turmoil brewing beneath. “Yeah, Pete, I’m fine. Just really excited for you and your trip. Don’t worry about me.”

But as he spoke, the gnawing panic clung stubbornly at the edges of his mind. He couldn’t admit it, not even to Peter. So he buried the fear, plastered on a smile, and tried to appear genuinely happy. It wasn’t hard—after all, he’d had thirteen years of practice.

* * *

Monday 6th August 1973

Dear Moony,

I’m sure Sirius has already given you the lowdown, but just in case he’s slacking off—THE BETROTHAL IS OFF! You were spot on, it all came down to Narcissa. Your uncanny knack for predicting the unpredictable never ceases to amaze me, Remus. Got any tips for the Quidditch World Cup next year? I could do with a winning streak!

My summer’s been a right drag without the usual crew. Peter’s family whisked him away to France, leaving me to my own devices. Not even a good practice partner in sight. It’s all just a bit too quiet here. I was thinking, perhaps you could have a word with Madam Pomfrey about a little trip to Diagon Alley in August? Or even better, we could arrange to meet you there and bring you back. Mum’s been asking after you; she’d be thrilled to see you again.

Do drop me a line if you can.

Yours in eternal boredom,

James.

* * *

Monday 13th August 1973

[Postcard depicting the Eiffel Tower in summer]

Dear James,

Greetings from Paris!

Hope you’re having a smashing holiday. Wish you could’ve tagged along. The Eiffel Tower is as impressive as ever—though, I must say, it’s missing the chaos of Diagon Alley. 

Catch you later,

Peter.

Diagon Alley was alive with its usual buzz as James and his mother navigated through the throng of shoppers. Euphemia, ever the optimist, tried her best to lift James’s spirits. However, he was struggling with the nagging feeling of loneliness that had plagued him throughout the summer. Without his friends around, every bustling shop seemed to amplify his sense of solitude.

“Isn’t this thrilling, James? Another year at Hogwarts just around the corner!” Euphemia said, her voice bright and full of enthusiasm.

James managed a weak smile. “Yeah, Mum. Exciting.”

Their conversation was interrupted when they collided with Marlene McKinnon and her Muggle father. James’s face lit up like a firework. “Marlene! Fancy meeting you here!”

Marlene’s eyes sparkled as she returned his grin. “James Potter, always turning up where you least expect him, aren’t you?”

James chuckled, feeling a rare burst of joy. “You know me, Marley. Can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can I?”

Euphemia greeted Marlene and her father warmly, and the four of them fell into an easy conversation. James took the opportunity to introduce Marlene to his mother, who was as charming and friendly as ever.

As they chatted, James noticed Marlene’s shoelaces had come undone. With a flourish, he knelt down and tied them up. “Can’t have you tripping over yourself, can we?”

Marlene laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Thanks, James. Always looking out for me.”

Marlene’s father clapped James on the back. “You’re a true gentleman, James. Much appreciated.”

Euphemia, observing the exchange, teased her son with a knowing smile. “Oh, James, such a gentleman! And Marlene seems like a lovely girl, doesn’t she?”

James’s cheeks reddened at his mother’s teasing. Marlene stifled a giggle. “Oh, Mum, stop it,” James protested, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance in his voice. Though, he had to admit, Marlene was great. Still, he hadn’t exactly shared that he had his sights set elsewhere.

“Hey, James, why don’t we check out the new broomsticks? Leave the grown-ups to their boring chat,” Marlene suggested.

James’s face brightened. “Sounds like a plan, Marley. Let’s go!”

As they wandered away from their parents, their laughter rang out amidst the busy streets of Diagon Alley. They bantered and joked, finally sinking onto a bench to catch their breath.

“You know,” Marlene said with a mischievous glint in her eye, “sometimes I think they forget we’re not toddlers anymore.”

James grinned. “Tell me about it. I half-expect Mum to try and hold my hand crossing the street.”

Their easy conversation was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of Mary MacDonald. Her cheerful presence seemed to add an extra layer of sunshine to the alley. Marlene’s demeanour shifted as Mary approached, her playful laughter now tempered with a more reserved quality.

“Hey there, you two!” Mary’s smile was as bright as ever.

Marlene’s behaviour transformed in an instant; she began twirling a strand of hair around her finger and casting shy, sidelong glances at James. James felt a pang of confusion but pushed it aside, focusing on Mary’s lively presence.

“Hi, Mary,” James greeted, trying to ignore the sudden shift in Marlene’s behaviour.

Marlene giggled, her hand brushing lightly against James’s. “Oh, James has been such a gentleman, tying my shoes and all,” she said in a tone that felt oddly forced.

James blinked, caught off guard. “Just trying to be helpful,” he said, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the unexpected touch.

Mary, ever perceptive, jumped into the conversation with enthusiasm. “You two make quite the pair!” she remarked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You look like a couple straight out of a storybook.”

James chuckled nervously, glancing at Marlene, who appeared to be blushing furiously. “Oh, come on, Mary,” he said, his cheeks warming. “We’re just friends.”

With a bright laugh, Mary offered to fetch ice creams for everyone. As she dashed off, James leaned in closer to Marlene, his voice soft but insistent. “Seriously, Marley, what’s going on? You’re not yourself.”

Marlene’s response was defensive. “I’m fine, Jamie. Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

James frowned, knowing her too well to buy the facade. But before he could probe further, Mary returned with the ice creams, breaking the tension.

“Alright, everyone, ice cream’s here!” Mary announced cheerfully, distributing the treats.

As Mary glanced between James and Marlene, a knowing look crossed her face. “What’s with the tension, you two?” she asked casually, though her gaze was sharp.

James opened his mouth to respond, but Marlene cut in, her tone dismissive. “Nothing, Mary. Just having a friendly chat.”

Mary raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further, instead shifting the conversation to lighter topics.

“So, James,” Mary began with a teasing glint in her eye, “I’ve noticed you’ve got your eye on someone special lately. Anyone we should know about?”

James’s face flushed crimson, and he spluttered. “What? No one! There’s no one.”

Mary laughed. “Oh, come on, James. I’ve seen the way you look at Lily.”

James’s heart skipped a beat. Before he could respond, Mary continued, her tone playful but perceptive. “If you want a chance with her, mate, you’ll need to step up your game. Girls like Lily don’t fall for just anyone.”

James’s confidence wavered, but he quickly regained his composure. “Thanks for the advice, Mary, but I think I can manage.”

Mary smirked, her eyes dancing with mischief. “We’ll see about that, Potter.”

Marlene, licking her ice cream, commented bluntly, “But let’s be real, I’m pretty sure Lily Evans will never go out with you.”

And just like that, the tension dissolved into laughter and easy conversation. James wrapped an arm around Marlene’s shoulders, pulling her closer playfully. Leaning in, he whispered, “That’s the Marley I know.”

Marlene rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. She nudged him with her elbow. “Oh, come off it, Jamie.”

With a grin, James squeezed her shoulder before letting her go. For the first time since the start of summer, he didn’t feel so alone.

Chapter Text

Half my life’s in books’ written pages

Lived and learned from sages

You know it’s true

All the feelings come back to you

Sing with me, sing for the year

Sing for the laughter and sing for the tear

Sing with me, if it’s just for today

Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away

Saturday 1st September 1973

James stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his robes for what felt like the hundredth time. He was in that peculiar phase where every growth spurt seemed to accentuate his gangly limbs rather than make him look more grown-up. He had shot up a few inches over the summer, which should have been a cause for celebration, but instead, it made him feel like an awkward stretch of string. 

With a frustrated sigh, James raked a hand through his messy hair, wishing he could just snap his fingers and magically look more presentable. If only magic could sort out adolescent insecurities as easily as it fixed a wonky broomstick.

“James, dear, are you almost ready?” Euphemia's voice drifted in from the hallway, pulling him from his self-critical reverie.

“Yeah, Mum, just a sec,” James called back, trying to smooth down the creases in his robes with as much success as if he were trying to iron a wrinkled potato sack.

Euphemia entered the room, her warm smile instantly easing his nerves. She looked him over with a mixture of motherly concern and amusement, her gaze softening immediately.

“What’s the matter, love?” she asked, her voice full of genuine care.

James hesitated before blurting out, “I just feel so… awkward. Like, my robes are too short now, and my face looks weirdly thin, and—”

Euphemia interrupted with a gentle laugh, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Oh, James, you’re just growing into a young man. It’s perfectly normal to feel a bit uncomfortable with all the changes.”

James scuffed his shoe against the floor, feeling sheepish. “But what if I just look ridiculous?” he muttered.

Euphemia tilted her head, studying him with a fond expression. “Trust me, James, you look perfectly fine. And besides, I have it on good authority that all the girls will be going mad over you,” she teased, nudging him playfully.

James managed a weak smile at her words, feeling some of his anxiety ebb away. “Thanks, Mum,” he said softly.

With a wave of her wand, Euphemia adjusted his robes to the perfect length with a flick. “There, that should do the trick,” she said, giving him a satisfied nod.

As James glanced at his reflection, a fresh wave of nervousness swept over him. Euphemia’s gaze softened, and she placed a hand on his arm.

“What’s on your mind, James?” she asked gently, her eyes full of concern.

James hesitated but decided to confide in her. “Well, Mum,” he began, his voice hesitant, “there’s someone… a girl…”

Euphemia’s eyes lit up with interest, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “Oh? And who might this lucky girl be?” she asked, her tone both teasing and encouraging.

James felt his cheeks flush as he admitted, “Her name is Lily Evans. She’s… she’s amazing, Mum. Beautiful, yes, but also kind, clever, and she stands up for what she believes in, even when it’s tough…”

His words tumbled out in a rush, his eyes alight with admiration for the girl who had captured his heart. Euphemia listened quietly, her smile widening.

When James finished, he glanced nervously at his mother, unsure how she’d react. To his relief, she simply smiled, her eyes filled with understanding.

“She sounds like a wonderful girl, James,” she said softly, her voice warm and reassuring. “And if she makes you happy, then that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t seem interested in me at all,” he admitted, feeling a pang of disappointment.

Euphemia placed a comforting hand on his arm. “James, just be yourself. If she’s meant to notice you, she will. And if not, well, there’s plenty of time for love to find its way to you,” she said with a reassuring smile.

James nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude. “Thanks, Mum,” he said, giving her a grateful smile.

His mother hugged him tightly. “Anytime, sweetheart. Now, let’s not keep the Hogwarts Express waiting, shall we?” she said, leading him out of the room.

As they made their way through King’s Cross Station, the bustling crowd of witches and wizards seemed to part before them. James spotted Peter and his family near the platform, their faces alight with excitement.

“Pete!” James called out, waving enthusiastically. Peter, looking a bit sunburnt but otherwise cheerful, grinned widely.

“James! Can’t believe we’re heading back to Hogwarts already,” Peter exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Yeah, I haven’t been able to sleep at all,” James replied, giving his friend a quick hug before turning to greet Peter’s parents.

As they exchanged pleasantries, James’s gaze wandered and he spotted Remus standing alone not too far away. A rush of warmth filled him at the thought of reuniting with the rest of the Marauders.

But then his smile faltered. His heart sank as he saw Sirius standing with his family nearby. His mother, Walburga Black, was fussing over Regulus, her attention focused solely on her younger son. Sirius, however, stood to the side, his posture distant and detached—a stark contrast to the lively, carefree boy James knew.

Regulus stood stiffly, his back rigid under the weight of familial expectations. James’s heart went out to him, knowing the burden of being the new heir of the Black family. 

Sirius, too, seemed weighed down, his rebellious nature evident in his dishevelled appearance. But James knew better than to intrude on Sirius’s family affairs. Instead, he turned his attention back to Peter.

“Hey, let’s go say hi to Remus,” James suggested, nudging Peter in the direction of their friend.

Peter nodded eagerly, and the two of them made their way to where Remus was standing.

“Hiya, Moony,” James clapped him on the back, grinning as Remus turned around. He had to angle his gaze slightly upwards now to meet those familiar amber eyes—Remus had grown taller, though his calm, composed expression remained the same, if a bit worn around the edges, which James secretly appreciated.

“Hi,” Remus grinned back, his silver scars crinkling along with his smile.

The whistle blew, and they climbed onto the train, finding an empty compartment and waiting for Sirius. When he finally joined them, he entered the compartment muttering darkly to himself.

“Keeping up appearances, my arse.”

“No change there, then,” James winked at Remus. Sirius looked at them and his face split into the grin James had missed.

“I thought I’d never see you all again!”

“Godric, you always have to be so dramatic,” James said, punching Sirius lightly on the shoulder as they all stood up to greet him.

“You don’t know what she’s like,” Sirius insisted, clasping James’s hand. Sirius hadn’t grown as much as James or Remus, but he appeared to have grown up gracefully and in perfect proportion—typical. A little shorter than James but not lanky, slender but not skinny. His jaw had broadened over the summer, casting shadows of manhood over his features.

“Is that you, Moony?!” Sirius exclaimed, craning his neck comically and shielding his eyes with a hand as if peering up into the clouds. “Can you hear me up there?”

“Ha ha,” Remus replied, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m the same height as James.”

“Not anymore, you’re not,” James shot back, standing closer so that it was clear Remus was now taller.

“Yeah, how did I end up mates with two beanpoles, eh?” Sirius grinned, slapping Remus on the back playfully. “Lucky I’ve got you, eh, Petey-boy?”

“Hm?” Peter looked up from his pasty, looking bemused. Unlike the others, he seemed no taller than he had been when they were eleven, though he was considerably wider.

“Right,” James rubbed his hands together as they all sat down. “Now that all that’s out of the way—let’s move on to new business. Plans for the year?”

“We have to finish the map,” Remus said eagerly. “It’s almost there, and I bet we can crack the Homunculus Charm if we put in the effort.”

“Definitely,” James agreed. “The map is basically our legacy, right? We’ll work on it, I promise.”

“And that other thing,” Sirius interjected, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

James and Peter exchanged glances. James had half-expected Sirius might forget about the plan, as he often did with his whims, but this time he seemed resolutely determined. In his letters with James, Sirius had suggested breaking the news to Remus, but James had held off, preferring to be absolutely certain before raising his friend’s hopes. After all, Remus had suffered enough disappointments.

“What ‘other’ thing?” Remus asked, frowning.

James shot Sirius an irritated glance before turning to their friend. “Just something we were talking about last year. We’ll… we’ll let you know if we decide to go through with it.”

“Don’t want to get you into trouble, Moony,” Peter laughed nervously. “Less you know, the better, eh?”

Remus looked decidedly put out, and James couldn't blame him. He hoped he’d made the right call—after all, Sirius had been outvoted. He knew Sirius thought they should come clean, and his friend shot James and Peter a pointed look as Remus turned his gaze out of the window, clearly sulking.

James found himself second-guessing his decision, but he tried to shove his unease aside as he continued the conversation. However, the discussion was interrupted by a heavy sigh from Peter.

“Where’s the trolley witch? I’m starving.”

“I just saw you demolish a pasty,” James replied, mildly irritated. He’d been in the middle of explaining his grand scheme to bewitch the Slytherin Quidditch team’s brooms during their next practice, only to be interrupted by Peter’s hunger.

“Yeah, but that was savoury,” Peter whined, rummaging through his pockets and finding only a handful of crumpled wrappers. “I’m in the mood for something sweet.”

Remus’s eyes suddenly sparked with mischief, as if a brilliant idea had just occurred to him. “I’ve got you sorted, Pete,” he said with a casual air, reaching into his suitcase. He pulled out a selection of colourful, unfamiliar chocolate bars and dumped them on the seat beside him with a flourish. James stared at the bright wrappers, trying to decipher the peculiar names.

“What on earth are these?” Sirius asked, picking up a bar labelled ‘MARS’ and eyeing it suspiciously, as if it might suddenly sprout legs and run away.

“Muggle chocolate,” Remus explained with an air of nonchalance. “They’re quite good, actually. Go on, they won’t bite.”

Peter had already unwrapped and taken a generous bite out of a bar labelled ‘Milky Way’, his face lighting up in delight. “This is brilliant!” he declared, grinning as he eagerly offered the others a piece. Remus selected a packet marked ‘Maltesers’ for himself, sitting back with a self-satisfied grin that made James suspect he was secretly proud of his exotic confectionery discovery.

James, not one to pass up the opportunity for something new, eyed a chocolate bar called ‘SNICKERS’. He took a tentative bite, curiosity piqued. The rich, nutty flavour was surprisingly enjoyable. “This isn’t half bad,” he said, with a grin of his own. “Muggle sweets might actually be onto something here.”

Sirius rolled his eyes playfully. “Just what we needed—more distractions. I suppose this is the price we pay for hanging out with half-bloods.”

“Oi!” Remus shot back, “I’m right here, you know.”

James chuckled, enjoying the light-hearted banter. It felt good to be back with his friends, even amidst the usual chaos and complaints. He could almost forget about the nagging worries he’d had earlier. Almost.

As the train chugged along, the compartments filled with the familiar sounds of chatter and laughter. The camaraderie between the Marauders was as easy as ever, despite the occasional squabbles and Sirius’s perennial drama.

* * *

The Great Hall was as magnificent as ever, with mahogany tables set with silver dishes gleaming under the flickering light of the candelabras. James, seated with his friends, was still absorbing the grandeur of it all when Lily Evans made her entrance. She strode over with her usual confidence, her hair cut into a chic new fringe that somehow made her look even more charming.

She plopped down next to Remus, who looked a touch taken aback by her sudden arrival. “You’re taking Runes, aren’t you, Remus?” she asked, her voice carrying that pleasant mix of curiosity and earnestness.

“Yep,” Remus replied, towering over her even while seated.

“Moony’s abandoning us!” Sirius wailed dramatically, pretending to collapse onto James’s shoulder with an exaggerated sob.

“There, there,” James played along, patting Sirius on the back with mock solemnity. “I hope you’re happy, Remus. All very well, you moving on to bigger and better things, but spare a thought for the rest of us poor souls left behind.”

“I’m not abandoning anyone,” Remus muttered, his ears flushing a bright red. “I just didn’t fancy Divination.”

“Ignore them,” Lily said, rolling her eyes with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. She was always so poised and above it all, but it only egged Sirius and James on more. They continued their over-the-top weeping as if Remus was tearing their hearts out.

Lily tutted, clearly irritated by the performance, and turned back to Remus. “You lot don’t have to be joined at the hip all the time. Anyway, I’m doing Runes too. Have you done the pre-reading?”

Remus nodded eagerly. “Yeah, it looks really interesting.”

“Aha!” Sirius said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Now I see.”

Remus turned to him, looking apprehensive. “What?”

“I don’t think it’s about furthering your academic career,” Sirius said, adopting a wise expression as he scratched his chin. “I reckon our dear Remoony has been lured away from everyone’s favourite doss subject by the fairer sex!”

“Shut up,” Remus said, his blush deepening to a shade that made his freckles look like strawberry seeds. He purposefully avoided Lily’s gaze, and James felt a pang of anxiety. Did Remus actually have feelings for her? The thought was disconcerting. What if one of his closest mates had a crush on the same girl as him?

“Yeah, shut up, Black,” Lily said with a sigh. “Honestly, you lot can’t be nice to each other. Just because no girls would come near you with a five-foot barge pole—”

“I’ll have you know I was very recently engaged to be married,” Sirius retorted, flicking his dark hair with a flourish. James nearly choked with laughter, snorting as he tried to catch his breath.

“What else are you taking, Remus?” Lily asked, pointedly ignoring the bickering Marauders.

“Care of Magical Creatures,” Remus replied with a resigned sigh. James and Sirius had been mercilessly teasing him about it ever since they’d handed in their timetables.

“Oooh!” Marlene exclaimed, turning around suddenly. “Me and Mary are taking that!”

“A-HA!” Sirius crowed triumphantly, and James fell into a fit of giggles beside him.

Just then, the Sorting began, and the hall fell into a respectful silence. The ceremony was always unbearably dull unless you were involved in it yourself, and James struggled to hold back a yawn as the line of nervous first-years grew shorter and the gaps at the Gryffindor table filled up with new faces. His gaze wandered to the Slytherin table, where Narcissa sat regally at the far end, looking decidedly more cheerful than when he’d last seen her.

Regulus, now a second-year, sat at the other end of the table from her. Their eyes met for a brief moment, but the younger Black quickly looked away. Then there was Snape, lurking among the third-year Slytherins, his eyes fixed on Lily with their usual brooding intensity. James saw her smile at him in that friendly, uncomplicated way she had, but it didn’t seem to lift Severus’s mood one bit. James thought Snape was being a right ungrateful git—he’d give anything for Lily to smile at him like that.

When the Sorting ended, James was eager to dive into the delicious feast that appeared before them. Remus, as usual, piled his plate high, and Sirius and James couldn’t help but laugh at the look of astonishment on Lily’s face as she watched him devour his food. The hall buzzed with chatter and the happy hum of students. Dumbledore’s speech was as eccentric as ever, but this year, the serious tone of his usually whimsical oration made James listen more intently. The topic seemed to revolve around unsettling changes in the wizarding world, a subject that had turned his dad’s hair an even whiter shade of grey overnight.

“What was that all about?” Remus asked as they began to file out of the hall. “‘Unity in the face of darkness,’ and all that?”

“Oh right, you wouldn’t know…” James said quietly. He glanced at Sirius, who was scuffing his feet and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll explain when we’re alone, alright?”

They waited to get the year’s password (‘Codswallop’) and headed up to their dormitory. The room was just as they’d left it: neatly made beds and carefully packed trunks. Sirius immediately set about unpacking, rummaging through James’s trunk for his Muggle records and books. James pulled out his prized broom and settled cross-legged on his bed, polishing it with meticulous care. For a moment, the room was silent.

“So?” Remus asked impatiently. “The weird speech?”

“Oh, right,” James swallowed hard, glancing at Sirius again. He knew Sirius was as aware as he was about the ominous changes in the wizarding world, but Sirius seemed determined not to discuss it. Still, James felt Remus deserved an explanation. “It’s all politics, really.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, waiting for more. “Politics?”

“Well, you know there are… um… dark wizards?”

“Yeah…”

“There’s been a rise in dark magic lately. My dad told me there’s some turmoil at the Ministry—department heads pushing for stricter reforms against Muggle-borns and, well, people who are different. Dad said it’s just the usual old prejudices, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks we need to be on our guard.”

The usual old prejudices. James thought of Remus, Lily, Marlene. He recalled the cold disdain in Orion Black’s voice when he’d called James a blood traitor. He thought of his dad coming home late, face etched with stress, and his mother, usually so welcoming, wanting to put up wards around their home. Politics, always politics. There’s been a rise in dark magic lately…

“Mother and Father called a meeting,” Sirius said suddenly. They all turned to look at him. He looked tormented and ashamed, not meeting their eyes. “They wouldn’t let me in, of course, but Reg went. They keep talking about this Dark Lord—don’t know if he’s a politician they’re backing or what. All I know is if the Blacks are supporting him, he can’t be good.”

His words hung in the air, a heavy weight. James could tell Sirius was hoping for some reaction—an agreement, perhaps, or condemnation. But James was at a loss. How could he say anything without risking tearing their fragile understanding apart? He couldn’t call Sirius’s family dark wizards out loud. It was too dangerous, too final. The thought of being wrong about Regulus, or Sirius, was terrifying. The words would become reality, something they’d have to face, something they’d have to deal with.

So, James remained silent. They all were, until Peter broke the quiet. “We’re at Hogwarts,” he said firmly. “My mum always says Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain. And we’ve got Dumbledore.” He spoke with conviction, as though it was a decree. “C’mon, Black, bet you’ve got another awful Muggle record you’re just dying to assault our ears with.”

They all stared at Peter with a mix of surprise and curiosity. Sirius, always ready for a bit of showmanship, grinned mischievously.

“Actually,” he said, turning back to his record player and giving it a theatrical dusting, “I have.” He produced a record from his trunk with a flourish. The label read ‘The Rolling Stones,’ and the song was “Paint It Black.”

James snorted, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, brilliant. I see you’ve decided to take us on a nostalgia trip.”

“‘Paint It Black’ is a classic!” Sirius protested, feigning indignation. “It’s got that dark, brooding edge. Perfect for our current mood.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Dark and brooding, right. So you’re saying you’re going to be a melodramatic rock star now?”

Sirius set the record down with a satisfied smirk and began setting up his turntable. James shared an amused look with Remus, who was struggling to contain his laughter, and Peter, who was looking positively delighted.

“Just as long as we don’t end up having to listen to ‘Paint It Black’ on repeat,” James said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I think I can manage one or two spins, but I draw the line at a full-blown Stones marathon.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius said, waving him off. “It’s got a great beat. You’ll be tapping your feet before you know it.”

As the first strains of “Paint It Black” filled the room, James couldn’t help but chuckle. Despite the serious discussion earlier, Sirius’s enthusiasm for his music collection was a welcome distraction. The room was filled with the hypnotic rhythm of the Stones, and for a while, the worries about the world outside melted away.

Chapter Text

Friday 7th September 1973 

By the end of his first week of third year, James was beginning to think the professors were plotting their demise. He was convinced it had to be illegal somewhere in wizarding law. Sure, he’d expected the workload to increase with three extra subjects, but this was madness—it felt like the assignments had multiplied by the thousands.

In Transfiguration, they were moving on to bodily transformations—small stuff to start, but still far more dangerous and complicated than changing teacups into tortoises or making rats turn into goblets. Defence Against the Dark Arts had them tackling upper-level jinxes, and in Charms, Professor Flitwick was introducing combination spells. Thankfully, James and the Marauders already had some experience with combining incantations (though they’d never admit the kind of spells they’d been experimenting with), but the theory behind it was enough to make his head spin.

Astronomy, Herbology, and Potions were as tedious as ever, but now with the added pleasure of more reading and constant reminders from their professors that “attention to detail” was crucial this year. Even History of Magic, with Binns droning on as usual, seemed to have increased its demands. The ghostly professor had taken to assigning more reading, which was a particular nightmare for James. He’d never been one for sitting still—too much energy—and now all this extra reading was pushing him to his limits. Over a hundred pages for the weekend? It was like some sort of medieval punishment.

Divination, at least, was a doss, exactly what they’d all expected. The hardest part of the class was getting to the classroom, perched as it was in some obscure, high tower. They had to climb up a ladder and through a trapdoor just to get inside. The professor, a tiny old witch draped in so many shawls she looked like a forgotten pile of laundry, puttered around the room mumbling about dreams and subconscious symbols. She assigned them to keep dream journals over the next week, which had Peter moaning as he awkwardly shimmied down the ladder after class.

“But I never remember my dreams!” Peter wailed, his voice slightly muffled by the rickety ladder.

Sirius snorted. “Just make something up, mate.”

Peter looked doubtful, casting a nervous glance back up at the trapdoor. “You don’t think she’d… know?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “S’not as if she can read your mind.”

Peter still didn’t look entirely convinced, but Sirius was already losing interest.

Fortunately, Peter wasn’t joining them for Arithmancy, not that James didn’t want him there, but it meant Sirius would lay off him for a bit. Peter had initially put Arithmancy down on his timetable, but he’d dropped it once he realised that only two extra subjects were required. James had tried to convince him to stick with it, offering to help him with the work, but Peter was having none of it. So, the three remaining Marauders were left to their own devices.

James wasn’t particularly thrilled about Arithmancy either—everyone said it was tough. He was only really taking it because Sirius and Remus were, and he wasn’t about to be left out. The subject didn’t even involve much magic, which was a massive disappointment. It was more like Divination but with numbers, and James groaned internally at the thought. Their first lesson was all about the three primary numerological methods of calculation, and they had to use the Pythagorean method to find their character numbers.

Remus finished first, and Sirius immediately tried to sneak a peek at his parchment.

“Oi! Finish your own calculations, Black!” Remus chided.

“I did,” Sirius replied, quickly scribbling down his final number, “Come on, what’d you get?”

Reluctantly, Remus uncovered his parchment. “Four.”

“I got three!” James announced, putting his quill down with a flourish.

“Three and four…” Sirius flipped through their textbook, searching for the explanations. “A-ha! ‘Three is the number of wholeness or completeness; these individuals are well-balanced, socially easy-going, lucky, and successful…’ Ugh, of course, you’d get the best number.”

“What about four?” Remus asked, clearly dreading the answer.

Sirius scanned the page and grinned wickedly. “Oooh, Moony, says here that Fours are ‘logical and reliable,’ but also, ‘stubborn, suspicious, prone to fits of anger…’ Sounds just like you!”

Remus scowled, his ears turning a shade redder. “Yeah, yeah. What’s your number, then?”

“Five,” Sirius replied with a smirk, already flipping to the next section. “Let’s see… ‘Fives are adventurous, energetic, bold, intelligent, devastatingly handsome…’ ”

“Give that here!” Remus snatched the book from Sirius’s hands, ignoring his half-hearted protest. His eyes flickered over the page, and a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“It says Five is the number of instability. ‘They may be drawn to many different pursuits, but struggle to build lasting commitments. Fives are often self-centred, irresponsible, quick-tempered…’”

James was in stitches, slinging an arm around both of them. “So that’s why you two are so hot-headed, then.”

“Oh, shut up, Mr. Perfect Three,” Sirius muttered, grabbing his book back from Remus.

Of all the new classes, Muggle Studies quickly became James’s favourite. He’d developed a new curiosity about Muggles ever since meeting Arthur Weasley at the Ministry, but it was more than that. It was also about understanding Remus better… and okay, Lily too.

James had always found himself explaining aspects of the wizarding world to Remus, but he hadn’t really considered how difficult it must be for him to straddle two worlds. Magic seemed to come so naturally to both Remus and Lily that it was hard to imagine either of them without it. But Muggle Studies was opening his eyes a bit more, making him appreciate just how much they had to navigate that he’d never even thought about.

By the time Friday rolled around, James was drowning in homework, the pile of assignments threatening to bury him alive.

“It’s not fair,” Peter whined, echoing James’s own thoughts. “This year was supposed to be fun, with Hogsmeade and everything.”

“We’ll still go to Hogsmeade, Peter,” James murmured, half his attention on the star chart in front of him.

“I’m with Pete,” Sirius groaned, screwing up his dream diary in frustration. “Let’s sack this off and go use the Quidditch pitch while it’s still light.”

James perked up immediately. “Yeah, go on then.”

All three of them stood up, eager for some fresh air and freedom. Remus waved them off, barely looking up from his Transfiguration essay, which was already twice as long as McGonagall had requested.

“Don’t fancy looking over my Muggle Studies, do you, Moony?” Sirius asked, trying to sound casual.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “If I have time. James, Pete, want me to check yours?”

“Thanks, Remus!” Peter said, grinning as he tied his shoelaces.

“Nah,” James replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Thought I might ask Evans for a bit of help on it later.”

“Losing battle, mate,” Sirius advised. “Dunno why you’re so hung up on her.”

James just shrugged, feeling far from discouraged.

They left Remus behind with his beloved essay, heading out to the Quidditch pitch. A few other students were flying about, but it wasn’t too crowded—too early in the term for the House teams to start their regular practices.

The weather was perfect for flying: clear and bright, with just a gentle breeze. They spent a glorious hour soaring through the sky, racing each other up and down the pitch and pulling off dizzying loops. By the time they landed, the sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and turning the clouds a soft shade of pink. It was moments like this, James thought, when life at Hogwarts felt perfect.

* * *

After dinner, with the golden hues of sunset casting the Hogwarts castle in a warm, honeyed glow, James found himself hurrying through the corridors, the sound of his footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stone walls. He had one mission in mind: find Lily Evans before curfew. He’d been avoiding Remus’s well-meaning offer to look over his Muggle Studies essay, just for this chance. The library seemed like the most likely place to find her—Lily was always buried in some book or another, and James was counting on that predictability tonight.

He pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the library, his heart thudding with anticipation. His eyes darted from table to table, scanning the room eagerly. And there she was—Lily, her fiery red hair gleaming in the fading light, bent over a stack of books with that familiar, determined expression on her face.

James couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he sauntered over to her table, trying to exude the right mix of confidence and charm. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the most enchanting sight in the library,” he quipped, leaning casually against the edge of the table.

Lily looked up, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly. “Potter,” she said curtly, her tone dripping with the usual annoyance.

James ignored the chilly reception, flashing his trademark smirk. “I hope you’re not too buried in books to spare a moment for a fellow seeker of knowledge,” he said, feigning innocence, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

Lily rolled her eyes, but James noticed the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “What do you want, Potter?” she asked, not quite able to mask the trace of curiosity in her voice.

“Well,” James began, smoothly pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment from his bag, “I’ve got this Muggle Studies essay that’s just begging for your expert opinion.” He slid it across the table toward her with a flourish, as if presenting her with some grand gift.

Lily sighed, but picked up the essay, her expression softening slightly as she began to read. To James’s surprise—and delight—her frown of concentration was more thoughtful than critical. “This is actually… good,” she admitted, sounding almost reluctant, as if giving James any credit was against her better judgement. She raised an eyebrow at him, as though he were some sort of puzzle she hadn’t quite solved.

James couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest. “Well, of course it is,” he said, puffing up a bit. “I am a bit of a genius, you know.”

She smirked, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—was it admiration? “I’ll admit,” she said, half-teasing, “I thought Remus did all your homework.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Nope, this one’s all me. Though Remus does give some helpful pointers now and then.”

As Lily continued to read, her expression shifted from surprise to mild confusion. “Hang on,” she said, furrowing her brow, “you’ve completely mucked up the Muggle custom of wishing on a falling star.”

James frowned, genuinely puzzled. “What do you mean? A falling star’s just a meteor in the sky, isn’t it?”

Lily sighed, setting down the parchment and fixing him with that patient-but-exasperated look she seemed to reserve especially for him. “Yes, but for Muggles, it’s more than just a meteor. It’s a moment of magic—a chance to make a wish and believe in something beyond the ordinary. It’s about finding a bit of magic in a world where they don’t have any.”

James stared at her, a new curiosity sparking in his mind. “Have you ever wished upon a falling star?” he asked quietly, surprising himself with the sincerity in his voice.

Lily hesitated, her usual defences momentarily slipping. “Yes,” she admitted softly, her gaze meeting his. “I didn’t exactly experience a lot of magic before I got my Hogwarts letter.”

A charged silence hung between them, thick with unspoken words and possibilities neither of them dared to explore. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them crackling with tension and something uncomfortably close to hope.

Then, Lily sighed and shook her head, a rueful smile playing at her lips. “You wouldn’t care about my wishes, Potter,” she said, her tone guarded once more as she began gathering her books.

But James reached out, gently touching her arm to stop her. “I would,” he said earnestly, his gaze steady, hoping she’d see he meant it. “I’d listen to anything you have to say.”

For a split second, something vulnerable flickered in Lily’s eyes—was it hope? Maybe even a touch of fear? But before James could fully grasp it, he opened his stupid mouth.

“Well, whatever it was, I’m sure it didn’t come true,” he said, unable to resist a smirk. “There’s no real magic in stars, after all.”

Lily’s expression hardened instantly, and she pulled her arm away as if he’d burned her. “You’re right,” she said icily, “wishes don’t come true if you tell someone about them. Especially if that someone’s an insufferable prat like you.”

She handed back his essay with a dismissive wave. “Here. It’s fine. Though I’m sure Remus could have done better.”

Before James could even think of a response, she was gone, leaving him standing alone in the library with a sinking feeling in his chest. He looked down at his essay, feeling the sting of regret.

But then he noticed the neat correction she’d made in the margin, writing in the proper explanation of the Muggle custom. He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, even as he mentally kicked himself for ruining what could’ve been a real moment between them.

Maybe next time, he thought, I’ll keep my mouth shut and just listen.

* * *

That night, James was drifting in and out of sleep, the warmth of his blankets cocooning him against the cool September air. His mind was still buzzing from the day, thoughts swirling around Quidditch tactics and half-formed ideas for their next prank. But even in his semi-conscious state, he wasn’t entirely surprised when he heard the familiar sound of footsteps padding closer to his bed. He blinked groggily as his bed curtains were pulled back, revealing Sirius’s piercing blue eyes, glinting in the dim light.

“‘Lo,” James yawned, not even bothering to sit up. Sirius, ever the nocturnal creature, cast a Silencing Charm around them before climbing onto the bed beside him.

“Hey,” Sirius muttered, his voice low but urgent.

James squinted at him, still half-asleep. “What’s that?” he mumbled, noticing the stack of parchment Sirius had placed in the middle of his bed. The sight of paper at this hour was never a good sign—it usually meant trouble or, at the very least, the start of some ridiculous scheme.

“Research,” Sirius replied, his voice tinged with excitement. “From over the summer.”

James blinked, trying to clear the fog from his brain. “Research…?”

Then it hit him, all at once, like a bucket of cold water. He shot up in bed, suddenly wide awake. “Oh! Bloody hell, mate, I knew you’d been digging around in your parents’ library, but I didn’t realise… I mean, you’ve basically written a bloody book.”

Sirius grinned, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that James rarely saw. “You said we needed to be sure we could do it,” he said, tapping a finger on the top page of parchment. “This is proof—we can do it. I looked up everything: ingredients, rituals, incantations… I even charted the full moons for the rest of our time at Hogwarts.”

James stared at the stack of parchment, feeling a mix of awe and something close to dread. “Wow,” he murmured, still processing the sheer amount of work Sirius had done. “Er… yeah, that’s… I mean, that’s really impressive, mate. Good for you.”

But Sirius wasn’t in the mood for compliments. He raised his eyebrows impatiently, a familiar fire flickering behind his eyes. “So?”

“So…?” James echoed, not quite following.

“So, when should we tell Remus?”

James felt a jolt of panic. “Wh—tell Remus?”

“About us becoming Animagi?”

“No, I know, it’s just…” James ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. “It hasn’t even been a week back, yet.”

“So?” Sirius pressed, his voice growing more insistent.

James hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He knew how much this meant to Sirius, how determined he was to help Remus in any way possible. But this was dangerous magic, the kind that could go horribly wrong if they weren’t careful. “It still feels a bit early,” he said slowly. When he saw the irritation flash across Sirius’s face, he quickly added, “Look, just let me read your research, yeah? I’ll look it over, and Pete can have a look too, and then we can all talk about it—whether it’s actually… y’know… possible.”

“It is possible,” Sirius said, his tone firm, almost defiant.

“I know! I know, I believe you. But this is really serious magic, Black. We can’t risk anything going wrong. Just let us look over it all before we decide, yeah?”

Sirius huffed, clearly not pleased, but he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. But then we tell Remus.”

James nodded back, relieved. “Then we tell Remus.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them slowly dissipating. James couldn’t help but crack a smile, the absurdity of the situation starting to hit him. “This is all because you’re a bloody Five,” he said with a chuckle, nudging Sirius’s knee with his own. “Always rushing into things.”

Sirius rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, scooting towards the edge of the bed, clearly getting ready to leave. “Just read fast, okay?”

James mock-saluted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yes, sir,” he said, his voice laced with humour. Sirius shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile as he lifted the Silencing Charm.

As Sirius slipped out of the bed and padded back to his own, James watched him go, the stack of parchment now feeling heavier in his lap. This was it—everything they’d been planning, everything they’d been dreaming about. It was all so close, and yet, James couldn’t shake the nagging worry gnawing at the back of his mind.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, pulling the top sheet of parchment closer and adjusting his glasses. After all, if Sirius believed they could do it, then so did he.

Chapter Text

Wednesday 12th September 1973

When James first found out that his mate was a werewolf, he’d expected a fair bit of danger. Secrets, he’d anticipated; the kind that would weigh heavy on his chest, like a burden he couldn’t shake. He knew there’d be a steep learning curve too—he wasn’t daft enough to think he understood all there was to know about lycanthropy. He figured he’d start noticing things about Remus that were different, things that set him apart, like how his magic seemed to flare up unpredictably or how he could devour enough food to rival a small army, especially after a full moon.

What James hadn’t expected was that the approaching full moons would turn Remus into the biggest early bird Hogwarts had ever seen. 

It was five in the bloody morning, and James was not remotely ready to face the world yet, his brain still foggy with sleep. He squinted blearily into the half-dark room, only to hear Sirius’s groggy voice cut through the silence.

“Ugh, go back to bed, Lupin!” Sirius groaned, his voice muffled by his pillow. With a faint rustle, a shoe flew across the room, arcing through the air from the crack in Sirius’s bed curtains, which he hadn’t thought to pull completely shut the night before. Sunlight was already streaming through, assaulting his sensitive, sleep-deprived eyes.

“Sorry!” Remus whispered back, and a second later, the curtains whooshed shut, mercifully plunging the dormitory back into darkness.

James sighed, half amused despite his exhaustion. It was too early for even him to be up, and that was saying something. But Remus was always a bit off-kilter as the full moon drew near. Though he tried to hide it, James had long since noticed the little things—the way Remus would be the first to suggest a midnight stroll around the castle under the Invisibility Cloak, how he’d fidget in class like he had ants in his pants, and how when the other Marauders finally crashed at night, a faint wand light would still be glowing behind Remus’s bed curtains, evidence that he was wide awake.

And then there were mornings like this one, when Remus would be up at some ungodly hour, hopping out of bed and disturbing everyone else by flinging the curtains wide open and flooding the room with that harsh, unforgiving morning light. 

James listened as Remus’s soft footsteps padded across the wooden floor, the door creaked open, and then came the faint sound of his friend’s feet descending the staircase. What in Merlin’s name Remus was up to at five in the morning was anyone’s guess, but James knew better than to worry too much. Remus had his own way of coping with everything the full moon threw at him. Still, a part of James couldn’t help but wonder if his mate was alright, heading off on his own like that. 

With the dormitory plunged back into blissful darkness, James rolled over, burrowing himself deeper into his cocoon of soft blankets, letting the comforting weight of sleep pull him back under. Whatever Remus was doing, he could handle it—James would ask him about it later, after a few more hours of precious sleep.

* * *

James woke a few hours later, feeling an odd surge of energy. He practically leapt out of bed—though not without grabbing his glasses first, because Merlin knew he'd be the one to demolish half the dorm if he didn’t. He was already whistling cheerfully as he yanked open his bed curtains, which earned him a disgruntled groan from Sirius’s direction. 

Sirius, the notorious late sleeper, always seemed to cling to his pillow like it was a life raft. The boy would probably kip until mid-afternoon if it wasn’t for James and his love of mornings. James could never understand it; even if there wasn’t Quidditch practice to get up for, the thought of wasting the day in bed was unbearable. Sunlight was meant to be basked in, not slept through.

As he pulled on his clothes, he heard the quiet shuffle of Peter stirring. The smaller boy yawned and mumbled a bleary, “Good morning,” as he blinked at James.

“Morning!” James chirped back, far too brightly for that hour, which drew another groan from Sirius. James snorted, amused. 

After grabbing his broom, he waved to Peter and headed out the door, already buzzing with anticipation. As he descended the stairs, he caught sight of the early morning sky through a window—just a few scattered clouds, nothing serious enough to block out the sun. Perfect flying conditions. With any luck, the weather would hold until the 15th, their first Hogsmeade weekend of the year.

James and Sirius had the day planned out to the letter. First stop: Honeydukes, obviously. Then Zonko’s to replenish their stock of Dungbombs. After that, the Shrieking Shack, because his dad didn’t believe it was haunted—so naturally, James had to see for himself, and Sirius was itching to prove them both wrong. And they’d finally make Remus try Butterbeer, which, inexplicably, he hadn’t yet. 

Just as James was about to enter the common room, he nearly collided with Remus, who was heading back upstairs, something tucked under his arm. “Wotcher, Remus,” James said with a grin. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep,” Remus replied, a touch evasively. James raised an eyebrow but didn’t press it; he was too eager to get to the pitch.

“See you for lunch?” James called over his shoulder, already halfway across the room.

“Yep,” Remus nodded, hurrying on his way back to the dormitory. 

James continued out of the Gryffindor common room, his Quidditch gear slung over his shoulder, and a bounce in his step. There was something about the early mornings that he loved—the crisp air, the empty corridors, the sense that the castle was still half-asleep, like a giant waiting to wake up. Even if it was for practice, flying gave him a kind of peace nothing else did, an escape from all the noise in his head.

Lost in thought, James rounded a corner and promptly crashed into someone. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, before realising he’d walked straight into Snape, who was skulking about the corridor like some greasy shadow.

“Watch where you’re going, Potter,” Snape sneered, shoving him away.

James scoffed, straightening his robes. “Maybe if you didn’t slither about like a bloody bat, I wouldn’t have bumped into you.”

Snape’s lip curled. “Coming from the boy who thinks he owns the castle.”

“Oh, do shut up, Snivellus. At least I don’t spend my time hiding in the dungeons, brewing up who-knows-what like some troll.”

“Always so quick with your insults, Potter,” Snape drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. “I suppose that’s all you’re good for.”

James felt a flash of anger, but he forced it down, retorting, “At least I don’t stab my friends in the back. I’m sure Evans would love to hear all about what you really think of her.”

Snape’s face darkened, and before James could react, he flicked his wand and muttered, “Accio glasses.”

James’s stomach dropped as his glasses shot off his face and into Snape’s hand. He felt a wave of panic and embarrassment flood through him. Without his glasses, everything was a blur. He reached out blindly, desperate to get them back.

“Give those back, Snivellus,” he demanded, trying to keep his voice steady.

But Snape just smirked, holding them out of reach. “What’s the matter, Potter? Can’t see without these?”

James clenched his teeth, his frustration growing. As he made another attempt to grab them, he noticed something on the ground—a stack of papers that had fallen from his bag during the collision. His heart skipped a beat when he realised what they were. Sirius’s Animagi research.

“What have we here?” Snape’s gaze flickered down to the papers, his expression turning smug. “Planning your next prank, Potter?”

“Hey, leave those alone!” James lunged for the papers, but Snape sidestepped him easily, his smug grin widening.

Just then, Lily appeared, her presence immediately drawing the attention of both boys. “Evans,” James blurted out, relief washing over him at the sight of her.

Lily’s eyes narrowed as she took in the scene, her gaze shifting between James and Snape. “What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice sharp and demanding.

James opened his mouth to explain, but Snape cut him off. “Nothing, Lily. Just a little mishap with Potter, who can’t seem to keep track of his things.” He held up James’s glasses, dangling them mockingly. “Potter here was just about to explain why he’s carrying around this... intriguing reading material.”

James felt his stomach drop further as he realised how close Snape was to discovering everything. “They don’t concern you, Snape!” he snapped, his voice tinged with desperation. “Give them back!”

Lily’s gaze softened as she picked up on the panic in his voice. She stepped forward, placing a hand on Snape’s arm with surprising firmness. “Severus, come with me,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “There’s no need to waste any more time on Potter.”

Snape hesitated, clearly weighing his options. After a moment, he gave a stiff nod, casting one last contemptuous look at James. But as they turned to leave, Lily paused and shot Snape a glare that could have melted ice.

“And give him back his glasses,” she ordered, snatching them from Snape’s hand and handing them back to James. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and James felt a jolt, as if a spark of electricity had passed between them.

“Here, Potter,” she said softly, offering him a small smile. “You’ll need these.”

James took the glasses, his heart pounding in his chest. “Thanks, Evans,” he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She nodded in acknowledgment before walking away with Snape, leaving James standing there, clutching his glasses and staring after her. His thoughts raced as he watched her retreat, part of him wondering how he’d managed to avoid complete disaster, and the other part trying to ignore how his heart had skipped a beat when their hands had touched.

* * *

Even though James had managed to keep their secret from Snape, the whole incident gnawed at him, making him think even more about Remus and his situation. Remus never liked talking about the transformations, always insisting that he was fine, even when Madam Pomfrey had to keep him in the Hospital Wing for days. But James knew better. The moons were brutal; Sirius’s research had made that clear, and the scars Remus bore spoke volumes. Not to mention the bits and pieces they overheard when visiting him in the Hospital Wing—mentions of broken bones, fractured ribs, dislocated joints. It made James’s stomach churn.

Still, it was easy to forget just how deeply the condition affected Remus. They never really talked about it. Any time they tried, Remus would brush them off with a quick “I’m fine” or a change of subject. He didn’t complain, never made a fuss. He’d always been tough, and if James was honest, it was hard to picture Remus ever admitting to not being okay.

That morning at breakfast, as James watched Remus piling second and third helpings onto his plate, he couldn’t help but wonder just how much his friend was hiding. There had to be more beneath the surface—James could feel it, like a prickle at the back of his neck. He’d always had this sixth sense for when something was off with his friends, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Sirius would ignore it, distract them with jokes or some harebrained scheme, but James felt it. It lingered, an invisible weight he couldn’t shake until he’d sorted things out. But with Remus, this wasn’t something he could fix, was it? How could he fix something so monumental, so out of his control?

James tried to imagine what it must be like for Remus—waiting for the inevitable transformation into something not quite human. The thought made his chest tighten. The anticipation must be terrifying, anxiety and nerves wound tight like a spring. James had never really known pain, not like that. Sure, he’d had a few scrapes, the odd broken bone from Quidditch, but that was nothing compared to what Remus went through. It scared James, honestly, that his friend had experienced something so far beyond his understanding. It made him feel awful that he couldn’t really grasp it, that he couldn’t be there in the way Remus might need.

He imagined that fear magnified, anxiety curdling into dread. What was a scraped knee compared to your entire body breaking and reforming itself, piece by agonising piece? Remus might not want them to know he was worried, but James knew that if it were him, he’d be bloody terrified.

And knowing Remus, he’d have other worries too—how much school he’d miss, how long he’d be stuck in the Hospital Wing, how behind he’d get. He’d already asked James to get notes from their classes, trusting him as the most reliable (which, James had to admit, was probably fair).

With all these thoughts swirling in his head, James decided then and there that he needed to crack on with Sirius’s research. He’d had his doubts at first, felt a bit cautious about the whole thing, but the more he thought about it, the more determined he became. If he couldn’t solve Remus’s problem entirely, then maybe this was the closest he could get. Besides, Sirius was an absolute nightmare when he was nagging about something, and James didn’t fancy another lecture.

That night, as soon as Remus headed off to the Hospital Wing, Sirius cornered James in their dormitory.

“Have you read it?” Sirius demanded, eyes bright with impatience.

James blinked, looking up from where he’d been absentmindedly polishing his broom. “What?”

“The research. Have you read it?”

“The re—oh, you mean the Animagus stuff?”

Sirius nodded, practically bouncing on his heels. “Yeah, obviously. Have you?”

“Mate, you’ve written a bloody novel! I mean, I started it, but between classes and Quidditch practice…” James ran a hand through his already messy hair. “You can’t expect me to finish it in a week.”

Sirius groaned dramatically, flopping onto the mattress like a wounded animal. James shifted over, making room and laughing as Sirius dragged a pillow over his face.

“Hurry uppppp,” Sirius whined, his voice muffled but still managing to sound petulant. James couldn’t help but laugh.

“We can’t all be geniuses like you, oh mighty Mr. Black.”

“When’ll you finish it?” Sirius demanded, ignoring the jibe.

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

“Come on, this is way more important than homework! At least pick a deadline—otherwise, you’ll leave me hanging forever!”

James rolled his eyes but relented, setting his broom aside. “Alright, alright. End of the month. Reckon I can finish it by then.”

Sirius pouted, considering. “What about next weekend?”

“Nope,” James replied with a grin, “End of September. Final offer.”

“Fine,” Sirius huffed, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his excitement. “But if you don’t finish it by then, I reserve the right to try that new skin-scaled curse on you.”

“Deal,” James chuckled, shaking his head. 

Sirius grinned, satisfied. James could see how eager he was to tell Remus their plan, to get started on something that would really make a difference. He’d never seen Sirius so determined to help someone else. It was proof enough of how much he cared about Remus.

“Of course, Peter’ll have to read it too…” James added cautiously, already predicting Sirius’s reaction. Sure enough, Sirius groaned louder, burying his face even deeper into the pillow.

“Why? It’s not like he’ll spot something we missed.”

“Oh, come on. He knows more about Herbology than both of us. And he’s got just as much right to know what he’s getting into before he agrees.”

“We already told him he doesn’t have to do it!”

“Yeah, but give him the chance to make his own decision after seeing all the information. It’s only fair. Can’t expect him to just go along blindly.”

Sirius snorted. “Just tell him it’s alright; you know he’ll do whatever you say.”

But James shook his head. “Nope, sorry, mate. I’ll look over the research, then Peter can read it, and then we’ll make a decision. That’s how it’s got to be if we’re going to do this.”

Sirius sighed but didn’t argue further. By now, he knew better than to try and change James Potter’s mind once it was made up. 

* * *

Thursday 13th September 1973

James made his way to the library after Muggle Studies, mind whirring with thoughts of Sirius's research on becoming Animagi. The idea of actually transforming into an animal, of doing something so incredible to help Remus, filled him with a strange mix of excitement and nervous energy. He had to admit, though, that the whole process was a bit daunting. Still, the image of Remus’s face when they finally told him made it all worth it.

Finding a secluded corner, he settled in with the stack of papers, hoping to get through a decent chunk before dinner. He’d only just started reading when a voice broke his concentration.

"Oi, Golden Boy, what are you doing lurking here?"

James jumped, nearly dropping the papers. He looked up to see Regulus Black standing there, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Merlin’s beard, Little Black," James muttered, trying to steady his heartbeat. "You scared the life out of me."

Regulus chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. "You should be more aware of your surroundings, Potter."

James shrugged, trying to play it off. "Can’t be on guard all the time, can I? Need a bit of excitement in life."

"That’s your problem," Regulus said, raising an eyebrow. "You never are. So, why aren’t you with my brother? Thought you two were joined at the hip."

James felt a pang of guilt at the mention of Sirius. They had been spending so much time together lately, and he knew that Sirius sometimes felt a bit torn—especially when it came to his family. “He’s off fetching Remus’s notes from Ancient Runes. Remus is in the Hospital Wing,” he explained, trying to keep his tone light.

“Ah, yes, Remus,” Regulus replied, his voice carrying a hint of something James couldn’t quite place. “He does seem to spend a lot of time there, doesn’t he?”

James stiffened, trying to brush off the comment with a casual wave of his hand. “He’s just feeling a bit under the weather, that’s all,” he said, but the lie tasted bitter. He hated that he couldn’t just tell the truth, but there was too much at stake.

Regulus didn’t seem convinced. "You know, Golden Boy, I’m rather observant. I notice things."

James’s stomach tightened. Regulus had always been sharper than people gave him credit for, and James wasn’t sure if he was bluffing or if he genuinely knew more than he was letting on. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Regulus’s eyes flicked down to the papers in James’s hand, and his eyebrow arched slightly. “For example, you’re reading a Potions recipe despite hating Potions.”

James swallowed, forcing a smirk onto his face. “You know, Little Black, for someone who supposedly hates me, you seem to pay an awful lot of attention to what I’m up to.”

Regulus’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew colder. “Maybe if you spent less time trying to get the world to notice you, you’d see what’s actually important around you. You’d realise what you’re missing.”

Before James could even think of a comeback, Regulus turned sharply on his heel and stalked away, leaving James feeling unsettled and oddly vulnerable. He watched the younger Black brother disappear into the stacks, his mind racing. 

Regulus’s words hung in the air, heavy and lingering, making James wonder what exactly he had meant. What was he missing? And more importantly, how much did Regulus really know? 

James shook his head, trying to push the unsettling encounter out of his mind as he turned his attention back to the papers in front of him. But the easy concentration from before was gone. Regulus’s parting words echoed in his mind, and he found himself reading the same line over and over without actually absorbing it.

What had Regulus noticed? And why did it feel like a warning? 

James took a deep breath, trying to focus. He needed to be on top of this, for Remus’s sake. Whatever Regulus thought he knew, it didn’t matter. What mattered was figuring this out, making sure their plan worked, and keeping Remus safe.

Still, as James forced himself back into the research, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that Regulus Black was smarter than he’d given him credit for.

* * *

“What have I told you boys?” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed the moment she spotted them hovering by the door. It was just after dinner, and they’d come straight to the Hospital Wing, barely waiting for their food to settle. 

“He can’t have visitors on the first day!” The matronly nurse glared at them, her expression as stern as ever, lips pursed like she’d just bitten into a lemon. 

“It’s been almost a day,” Peter pointed out, ever the practical one. He held up a small pile of Chocolate Frogs as if they were a peace offering. “We brought him chocolate.”

“Well, that’s very nice of you, dear,” Madam Pomfrey said, her voice softening a touch, though her eyes still held that don’t-push-it look, “But Mr. Lupin is sleep—”

“I’d love some chocolate!” came Remus’s voice from behind the drawn curtain, a little scratchy but unmistakably cheerful. 

Sirius didn’t need any more encouragement. He whipped the curtain back with a flourish, grinning like he’d just won the Quidditch Cup. “Hiya, Moony!” he and James chorused, plonking themselves down at the end of Remus’s bed, one on each side of his ankles like they belonged there.

“Here you go,” Peter said, carefully placing the Chocolate Frogs into Remus’s lap as if they were precious cargo.

“Cheers, lads!” Remus replied, already tearing into one of the wrappers, his fingers moving with a kind of urgency that made James smile. 

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, half-resigned, half-amused. “Well, if you’re up anyway,” she said, sighing as if she couldn’t believe she was letting them get away with it, “I’ll fetch you some proper food. Half an hour, boys, that’s all.”

“Here’s your homework, you big weirdo.” James pulled a crumpled bit of parchment from his bag, handing it over with a grin.

“Thanks, James, you’re a lifesaver.” Remus took the parchment, setting it carefully on the bedside table, as if it was a prize he’d won rather than an assignment he’d have to suffer through.

“And here’s the rest of it.” Sirius shoved another stack of papers into Remus’s hands. “I had to wait outside your Care of Magical Creatures class for half of lunch, so you’d better get top marks on that.”

Remus’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, a bright smile spreading across his face. “You did?!”

“Yep,” Sirius said, trying to sound casual, though the slight flush in his cheeks betrayed how pleased he was at Remus’s reaction. “Got to say, though, bit jealous of you. Looks like a really interesting subject. Wish I wasn’t stuck doing bloody Divination.”

James feigned a gasp, hand clutching his chest in mock betrayal. “But what about me?!”

“I see plenty of you,” Sirius retorted, giving James a playful shove.

“Such a fickle heart,” James sighed dramatically, giving Sirius a mock-moony stare that had Peter giggling. Sirius retaliated by shoving him again, and James responded by pulling Sirius into a headlock, mussing up his hair with a wicked grin.

“Oi, Moony,” Peter suddenly piped up, rummaging in his pockets before pulling out a handful of Sickles. “Arbella Fenchurch gave me this for you,” he said, dropping the coins into Remus’s open hand. “She said you knew what it was for?”

Sirius wriggled free of James’s grip, and they both stared at the coins. Arbella Fenchurch? Wasn’t she a sixth-year? James was almost certain she was, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why in Merlin’s name she’d be handing over money to Remus. What on earth had he done to get himself into this sort of situation? And how did he manage to get every girl in the school to like him without even trying? 

“Er… yeah, cheers, Pete.” Remus’s face was slightly pink as he quickly tried to gather up the coins and shove them under his pillow, as if the whole thing was no big deal. “I, um… I had this Chocolate Frog Card she really wanted. Aglaonike of Thessaly.”

“Oh, I wanted that one!” Peter said, looking a bit put out. 

Remus shrugged, doing his best to look apologetic. “Sorry, mate. Money talks.” 

James couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. Remus, with his quiet ways and unassuming nature, somehow always managed to surprise them. And that, James thought, was one of the many reasons he was glad to call Remus his friend. He was full of surprises—some of them brilliant, and some of them utterly baffling.

Chapter Text

Saturday 15th September 1973

“Pack your cloak, James.”

James rolled his eyes, giving Sirius a sideways glance as he tried to stuff his school bag with a half-folded map of Hogsmeade, a spare set of socks, and—rather optimistically—his broomstick. “Why?”

“You never know, do you?”

“Fine, but I doubt we’ll want it,” James muttered, cramming the cloak in on top of everything else. The bag bulged at odd angles, like it was trying to escape.

Sirius just smirked, throwing his own cloak over one shoulder with a casual sort of grace that James could never quite manage. “Don’t forget you owe me a Galleon on that bet we had.”

“I haven’t,” James assured him, zipping up the bag with some difficulty. “Just relax for a minute, will you?”

“Never.” Sirius grinned back, eyes bright with excitement. “You do realise this is the most fun I’ve had in months? I wasn’t even allowed to go to Diagon Alley this summer.”

“Because of that cursed family of yours,” James said, his frown deepening. “At least you had that whole betrothal drama to keep you entertained. My family’s so boring.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, throwing himself onto James’s bed with the grace of a lounging cat. “Shut up, Potter, your family’s amazing and you know it. I definitely had the worst summer.”

Peter piped up from the doorway, his round face beaming. “I had a great time in France!”

James ignored him—everyone ignored him, really—and slung the bag over his shoulder. “What about you, Moony?” he asked as they clattered down the stairs into the common room. A group of third-years was waiting by the portrait hole, bouncing on their toes in anticipation of their first trip to Hogsmeade. James felt a flicker of nostalgia, remembering when he was younger, just discovering the magic of the village for the first time. 

“What about me?” Remus replied, his voice far too innocent.

“How was your summer?” James asked, eyes narrowing. “You haven’t told us anything.”

“Nothing to tell,” Remus shrugged, though James noticed the way his eyes darted to the side. “More boring than both of yours—no magic. I just read.” 

James wasn’t convinced, not for a second. He knew Remus well enough to spot when he was hiding something, but the boy always had that guarded look, as if he’d spent years perfecting the art of keeping secrets.

“Well, you’re all coming to mine for Christmas,” James said cheerfully as they filed out of the common room and headed towards the front entrance. “Same as last year, yeah? Moon’s on the tenth of December, so we don’t even have to worry about that.”

Remus’s mouth fell open, a mix of surprise and something softer—gratitude, maybe. 

“How do you know when it is?” 

James couldn’t resist ruffling Remus’s hair. “Told you, we were bored over the summer,” Sirius said with a nudge, “We looked it up, for the next few years.”

“But… why?!” Remus’s eyes flickered with that familiar mix of fondness and vulnerability. James felt a pang in his chest, wondering if Remus would ever fully understand how much they cared about him. How much they’d do to protect him.

“It’s like Quidditch,” James said, throwing out one of his favourite phrases, right up there with ‘Oi, Evans!’ “You’ve got to know your team’s weaknesses in order to work to their strengths.”

“If you say so,” Remus replied, a bit glumly. James hoped they weren’t pushing too hard, bringing up his condition like this. Their intentions were good, but Remus could be tricky when it came to accepting help.

As they reached the Entrance Hall, Sirius elbowed James, nodding towards the archway. A hunched figure hovered there like an overgrown bat. James felt his mood dip instantly. 

Lily pushed past them, a bright flash of red against the gloom, and went to meet Snape. 

“Why are they even friends?!” James groaned, running a hand through his hair, now more distracted than ever.

“They grew up in the same town,” Remus answered as they watched Lily and Snape walk ahead, deep in conversation. 

“How’d you know?” James rounded on him, surprised. 

“She told me.”

James felt a jolt of something unpleasant. “You fancy her, then?” He asked, trying to sound casual, but it came out far too sharp. 

Remus rolled his eyes. “No, we just chat. And if you fancy her, then you might want to try it.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. Lately, James couldn’t stop himself from bringing it up, but neither Sirius nor Remus seemed particularly interested in talking about girls. James had tried—Merlin knew he’d tried—to get them to spill about who they fancied, but they never took the bait. It was a bit strange, really. James loved talking about Lily, even if she wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about him. But when it came to Remus and Sirius, they never seemed to care. 

James’s attention drifted back to Lily, watching as she laughed at something Snape said. A twinge of jealousy gnawed at him.

“She likes you, though,” James said, trying to sound confident. “You did all your revision together last term.”

“Only because you lot couldn’t be arsed,” Remus shot back, defensively. They were nearing the village now, a picturesque collection of stone buildings nestled in the valley below. “And it’s not like we were alone. Mary and Marlene were there too.”

“We all need to take notes from Moony,” Sirius teased, winking. “Birds follow him everywhere. How’d you do it, Lupin? Those big amber eyes of yours?”

James and Peter snickered, but Remus looked annoyed, walking ahead of them with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His cheeks were pink, and not just from the cold—was he blushing?

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Sirius was the best-looking out of the group. With his perfect hair and piercing blue eyes, Sirius was always going to be in another league entirely. But Remus had something different about him, a quiet, rugged charm that people found intriguing. Girls didn’t fawn over him the way they did with Sirius, but James had noticed the way they glanced at Remus when they thought no one was looking. 

He’s got that mysterious thing going on, James thought, a little envious. Maybe Lily would like him more if he was less loud and overbearing, more like Remus—quietly confident, with just a hint of danger.

When they finally reached Hogsmeade, James felt a thrill of excitement. The village looked like something out of a fairy tale, all cobbled streets and wonky Tudor cottages, as if the whole place had been plucked from the pages of a storybook.

“Honeydukes?” James suggested.

“Honeydukes.” The others chorused in unison.

They pushed through the crowded shop, filling their baskets with enough sweets to last until Christmas. The air was thick with the smell of sugar and chocolate, and James couldn’t help but feel like a little kid again, eyes wide with wonder as he gazed at the rainbow jars of sweets and brightly wrapped chocolates.

Candy secured, their next stop was Zonko’s, the joke shop that was always packed with students. The noise was deafening, with prank items popping and whizzing all around them. James and Sirius got down to business, scouring the shop for the best new pranks. They left with their arms full of Dungbombs, trick wands, and exploding inkwells, grinning like they’d just pulled off the heist of the century.

Their shopping complete, James suggested they check out the Shrieking Shack. It wasn’t the best idea, considering their bags were now stuffed with sweets and pranks, but curiosity got the better of them.

“So, what is this place, again?” Remus asked, lagging behind as they climbed the hill. He was panting slightly, clearly not up for the hike.

“Haunted house,” James replied, taking two of Remus’s bags without being asked. “Most haunted place in Britain, Dad says.”

“It’s not haunted!” Sirius called back, his tone dismissive. “You Potters are just superstitious.”

“I heard the ghosts there are really nasty,” Peter said nervously, struggling with his own load. “Worse than Peeves.”

“Are they poltergeists, then?” Remus asked, ever the scholar. James could practically see the gears turning in his mind, ready to jot down notes if needed.

“Think so,” James said, glancing at the house ahead. It loomed over them, a dark, hulking shape against the bright sky. “The locals say they hear screaming coming from the house some nights.”

James shivered slightly at the thought. There had to be some truth to the rumours, didn’t there? After all, his dad had told him about it, and his dad never lied. “Only for a few years, though,” Sirius pointed out, “Poltergeists don’t just move in at a moment’s notice. There would have to be decades and decades of disturbance and negative energy building up to—”

“Oh my god.”

Remus’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was as though the words had been jerked out of him by an invisible hand. When James glanced over, he found Remus standing stock-still, eyes fixed on the house.

“What’s up, Moony? Need me to take the rest of your bags?” James asked, trying to sound cheerful despite the heavy atmosphere.

Remus shook his head, his movements almost mechanical. His eyes were wide and glassy, pupils small and darting about like frightened mice. His face had drained of colour; he looked like he might keel over at any moment. James reached out, placing a comforting hand on the back of Remus’s neck.

“Bloody hell, if it’s haunted, then I reckon Moony’s been possessed,” Sirius quipped, only half-joking. “Oi, Lupin. Snap out of it, will you?”

“That’s…” Remus struggled to speak, as if trying to remember how to form words. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew a deep breath. “That’s the house. Where they put me.”

James instinctively put a hand on Remus’s shoulder, a gesture of solidarity. “Alright, come on. We’re getting out of here.”

In silence, they trudged back down the hill towards the town. Remus stared at the ground, each step seemingly more laborious than the last. James kept his hand gently on Remus’s back, resolutely guiding them away from the ghastly abode. The Shrieking Shack. The name now made a disconcerting amount of sense.

I’ve got to get him out of here.

James directed them towards the Three Broomsticks. The place was warm and inviting, filled with tables and chairs that seemed to offer a semblance of comfort akin to the Gryffindor common room. They settled into a quiet corner, Remus visibly relaxing as he took a seat, his joints creaking in protest.

James went to the bar, while Sirius and Peter remained quietly at Remus’s side.

As he approached the bar, Madam Rosmerta, who often graced his parents’ gatherings, was bustling about with her usual flair. She greeted him with a warm, knowing smile.

“Good afternoon, James,” Madam Rosmerta said, her eyes twinkling with genuine curiosity. “What can I get for you today?”

James mustered a smile, though it felt like a Herculean effort. “Four Butterbeers, please,” he said, his voice strained and thin.

Madam Rosmerta peered at him with a discerning look, as if she could see through his carefully constructed facade. “Everything alright, dear?” she asked softly, concern evident in her tone.

James felt a lump rise in his throat, the guilt nearly suffocating him. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. How could he explain to Madam Rosmerta the guilt gnawing at him for dragging his best friend to the place where he’d endured such torment?

He hesitated, searching for the right words, but then forced a laugh, trying to dismiss her concern. “Oh, you know, just the usual teenage woes,” he said, his voice betraying his inner turmoil.

Madam Rosmerta’s gaze softened, her eyes reflecting her compassion. “You can’t fool me, James Potter,” she said gently. “I may not know the specifics, but I can see that something’s troubling you.”

James felt a pang of guilt at her perceptiveness. He looked away, unable to meet her kind eyes.

Before he could reply, Madam Rosmerta placed a comforting hand on his arm. “The Butterbeers are on the house today, dear,” she said, her voice warm and understanding. “Now, why don’t you go and join your friends? They’re waiting for you.”

James managed a grateful smile. “Thank you, Madam Rosmerta.”

With a nod of acknowledgment, James returned to his friends, carrying the four Butterbeers with him.

“Butterbeer!” he announced brightly, handing one to Remus. “Try it, Moony, you’ll love it.”

Remus raised the glass to his lips, taking a sizable gulp of the frothy, syrupy drink. Despite his earlier distress, he managed a weak smile at James, as if trying to shrug off the concern of his friends.

And so they spent a pleasant afternoon, sipping Butterbeer and scheming about their new practical joke arsenal. Peter had a brilliant idea involving a Remote Timer Spell on the Dungbombs, allowing them to be triggered from any location in the castle.

“Excellent diversionary tactic,” James crowed, waving his half-empty Butterbeer bottle for emphasis. “Imagine the chaos if Filch were chasing Dungbombs on the opposite side of the castle!”

“Gives us time to work on the map a bit more, too,” Remus added, looking a bit more animated.

“You’re not seeing the big picture,” Sirius interjected, folding his arms in a dramatic fashion. “We could set them all to go off simultaneously. Picture it—enough Dungbombs to hide one in every classroom. Total pandemonium!” James could vividly imagine the scene: students shrieking, professors trying to maintain order, and classes cancelled for the day. They all agreed enthusiastically.

“Oh, let’s not sit here, Lily,” a scornful voice interrupted, “This place looks decidedly unclean. They let all sorts in, clearly.”

Sirius straightened, his eyes locking onto Severus Snape. The greasy Slytherin was hunched over a nearby table, glaring at them with beady eyes.

“Don’t be daft, Sev, it’s perfectly fine.” Lily Evans dismissed him, taking a seat.

“Alright, Evans?” James waved cheerfully, though Sirius let out an exasperated groan beside him.

“Leave us alone, will you, Potter?” Lily tossed her hair dismissively. “Hiya, Remus.”

“Hi,” Remus greeted, forcing a grin. James looked back and forth between his friend and the redheaded girl seated nearby, his smile fading.

“Eurgh,” Sirius said, holding his nose and eyeing Snape with disgust. “What’s that smell? Potter, did you track something in on your shoe?”

James snorted, catching on immediately. “Smells more like a Dungbomb went off.”

“Disgusting,” Sirius smirked. “Perhaps we should open a window.”

Snape’s face twisted into an angry grimace. Lily placed a hand on his arm, speaking with thinly veiled irritation.

“Just ignore them, Sev. They’re idiots.”

Sirius snorted again. James felt a surge of irritation. How could Lily call them idiots while keeping company with that slimy git Snape? He was about to turn back to his Butterbeer when Snape’s voice sliced through the air again.

“How’s the family, Black?” he sneered, voice dripping with malice. Sirius’s face hardened. Snape continued, “Regulus was telling everyone you had quite an exciting summer. So exciting, in fact, that you’re no longer welcome back, hm?”

Leave him alone, you slimy git! And Regulus wouldn’t do that to Sirius… he couldn’t—

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Snivellus,” Sirius spat. James knew it was too late; Sirius had bitten and there would be no returning from this confrontation.

“Don’t I?” Snape’s grin widened maniacally. “Had any post from mummy this year? Heard anything at all from your relatives?”

Sirius looked as though he was grappling with a realisation, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. James placed a hand on Sirius’s knee, his own anger cooling.

“Ignore him, mate,” James said quietly. “He’s a prick. Just ignore him.”

“I’m right, then,” Severus’s thin lips curled into a spiteful smile. “No wonder you cling to Potter like a lovesick puppy. When your own family doesn’t want you, I suppose you’re left to mingle with the dregs of society…” His gaze swept disdainfully over Peter and Remus.

James felt his ears burn with indignation. Call me whatever you want, Snivellus, but you’ll regret targeting my friends.

Sirius stood abruptly, knocking his chair backward. His wand was out; he must have grabbed it during Snape’s taunting. James stood up as well, his instincts screaming to protect his friend, but he wasn’t about to let Sirius get into trouble.

“Sirius, don’t!” James reached for his wand, panic rising—magic in Hogsmeade was strictly forbidden.

“Come on, Severus, let’s go,” Lily had risen too, tugging on Snape’s sleeve. She looked furious, which was a small comfort.

“No,” Sirius said. His expression was a mix of rage and despair—eyes wide, breathing heavy, jaw twitching. James tightened his grip on Sirius’s wrist. “We’re leaving. Come on, lads. I can’t stand this stench any longer.”

They followed his lead, James throwing one last longing glance at Lily as they departed.

“That was… really mature,” James said, scratching his head as they stepped outside. His voice was cautious, the setting sun casting a glow on his glasses. Sirius merely snorted, swallowing hard as he began to march back towards Hogwarts.

“It’s not over,” Sirius said fiercely, his stride purposeful. “I’ll show him. I’ll bloody ruin him!”

The Marauders were at war.

Chapter Text

When you’re down and out

When you’re on the street

When evening falls so hard

I will comfort you

I’ll take your part

Oh, when darkness comes

And pain is all around

Saturday 15th September 1973

Knock knock.

“Sirius.”

Nothing.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

“Sirius?”

Silence.

“Oh, for the love of—Sirius Orion Black the Third, I know you’re in there!” James banged on the door with renewed vigour.

“Piss off, Potter.”

James slumped onto his bed, feeling utterly dejected. Sirius had been holed up in the bathroom for two hours now, refusing to join them for dinner and not making a peep.

“Leave him alone,” Remus said, turning a page in his book with an air of detachment. He lay sprawled on his bed, his nonchalance almost impressive. “He’ll come out when he’s ready.”

James knew Remus was probably right. Still, there was nothing more maddening than being unable to help someone you cared about. He’d spent his whole life fixing things for others—whether it was offering solutions or just being a supportive ear. If he couldn’t do that, then what was his value? The thought of Sirius shutting him out, of Sirius walking away, was unbearable.

“It’s not like him,” James said, disregarding Remus’s calm approach. “I could kill Snape, you know. For saying that rubbish.”

Remus shrugged, not looking up from his book.

“Black already hates his family. I don’t see why Snivellus gets under his skin so much.”

James stared at him, incredulous. How could Remus be so nonchalant?

“They’re still his family, Moony.”

“They’re awful to him.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t care what they think.” James sighed. “Look, Lupin, maybe you’d better head out. Go find Pete in the library or something.”

“I’m Sirius’s friend too!” Remus sat up, indignant.

“Yeah, yeah, of course you are,” James waved a hand dismissively, “But if he’s been crying, I think he’d rather no one else saw.”

“I don’t care if he’s crying. I want to help.”

James felt a pang of guilt. Deep down, he didn't want Sirius to open up to anyone else the way he had with James. If Sirius shared his vulnerabilities with Remus, what would make James any different? Would Sirius find someone else to confide in, someone better? But he forced himself to push these dark thoughts away, burying them deep where they belonged.

“Alright,” James said, his voice softer. “But be understanding. Don’t start a row.”

“What are you on about?” Remus looked mortally offended, as if he’d never been in a row in his life.

“You two! You’re always bickering, I swear.”

“We do not bicker,” Remus snapped. James raised an eyebrow, meeting his friend’s amber gaze.

James got off the bed and returned to the bathroom door.

“Sirius?” He knocked again. “Please, just come out and talk to us?”

“Get lost, Potter. Leave me alone.”

James sighed heavily. Remus, now thoroughly annoyed, marched over and knocked on the door with more force.

“I said piss off—”

Remus tutted. “Fine, sulk. But you’re being a selfish git. You know, you’re not the only one whose family hates you.”

“Remus!” James exclaimed, scandalised. Remus shrugged.

There was a shuffle from inside the bathroom. Remus pressed his ear to the door, then reeled back as it swung open slightly. Sirius’s gloomy face appeared.

“Finally,” James said, relief flooding through him. “Look, come out and—”

“Moony can come in,” Sirius said, opening the door just enough for Remus to slip inside before slamming it shut and locking it.

James felt a sharp pang of frustration and confusion as Sirius shut him out, leaving him alone. It wasn’t like Sirius to retreat like this, especially without talking to James. They were supposed to be best mates, weren’t they? James had always been there for Sirius, through thick and thin.

“Don’t be jealous,” he muttered to himself, trying to convince himself. “It’s not about you. Sirius just needs someone to talk to.”

But as he stood there, listening to the muffled voices from behind the bathroom door, James couldn’t shake off the gnawing jealousy. It made him sick to think of Sirius opening up to someone else. He hated himself for feeling this way—jealous of Remus, jealous of Sirius confiding in someone else. It wasn’t fair to Remus, who was just trying to help.

Try as he might to shove these feelings aside, they lingered like a persistent thorn. James had never felt this way before—jealous of his friends. He prided himself on being supportive, on being the one his friends could rely on. But now, with Sirius sharing his secrets with someone else, James felt lost and unsure.

As Peter entered the dormitory, his eyes immediately landed on James’s troubled expression. Concern flashed across his face, and he moved closer, placing a hand gently on James’s shoulder.

“James, mate, what’s wrong?” Peter asked, his voice laced with worry.

James shook his head, trying to clear the storm of emotions inside him. “It’s nothing, Pete,” he muttered, his voice tight.

“Come on, James,” Peter urged, his voice gentle but firm. “You can talk to me. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

But in that moment, James couldn’t bring himself to appreciate Peter’s concern. All he could think about was Sirius, locked away in the bathroom with Remus, sharing his secrets with someone else. It hurt more than he cared to admit, and he couldn’t bring himself to confide in Peter, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Leave it, Pete,” James snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. “I’m fine.”

Peter recoiled, hurt flashing in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a forced smile. “Okay, James,” he said quietly, withdrawing his hand from James’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you alone.”

As Peter walked away, James felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to snap at Peter, who was only trying to help. But right then, all he could think about was Sirius, and how desperately he wanted his friend’s attention more than anything else.

Feeling the weight of his emotions bearing down on him, James collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way—jealous, insecure, angry—but he couldn’t help it. It was like a storm raging inside him, threatening to consume him whole.

But amidst the turmoil, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, reminding him of his usual coping mechanism—focusing on someone else’s problems. It had been unfair of him to snap at Peter, and he needed to make sure his friend was okay. With a deep breath, he looked up to find Peter standing by the window.

“Pete,” James began, his voice softer, regret colouring his words. “I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just… everything with Sirius, it’s got me all twisted up inside.”

Peter’s brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, James saw a flicker of something in his eyes—bitterness, maybe. But before he could dwell on it, Peter’s expression softened, and he offered James a small, understanding smile.

“It’s okay, James,” Peter said. “I get it. You’re worried about Sirius. We all are.”

“Thanks, Pete,” James said quietly. “I appreciate it.”

Peter nodded, his smile widening slightly. “Anytime, James,” he replied. “I’m here for you, no matter what.”

* * *

Friday 5th October 1973

The Quidditch pitch shimmered under a blanket of golden sunlight as James soared through the air, the wind rushing past his ears and making his hair whip around his face. He was in his element, his heart pounding with the thrill of practice as he wove through imaginary opponents and executed sharp turns with the grace of a seasoned flyer.

Beside him, Marlene moved with equal finesse, her blonde hair streaming behind her like a comet in the sky. She was an undeniable force on the pitch, and James couldn’t help but admire her skill.

As they flew, James sneaked glances at their friends in the stands. Mary, Remus, Sirius, and Peter were huddled together, their heads close as they animatedly gestured towards the pitch. James furrowed his brow, puzzled by what could be so engrossing.

“Oi, Marley,” James called over the roar of the wind, “any idea what they’re jabbering about?”

Marlene followed his gaze and shrugged nonchalantly. “Probably just gossiping about who’s snogging who,” she said with a smirk. “Mary’s probably trying to get Sirius’s attention again.”

James chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You reckon? I don’t swoon over Lily that much, do I?”

Marlene laughed, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Oh, Jamie, you’re worse than a lovesick puppy when it comes to Lily Evans.”

James grinned. “And what about you, Marley? Has anyone caught your eye lately?”

Marlene’s expression faltered for a split second before she shook her head, her discomfort momentarily flickering across her features. “Nah, not really. Now, let’s get back to it. The Chasers are gearing up for that complicated formation we’ve been working on.”

James nodded, letting the subject drop as they refocused on their practice.

The formation involved a series of daring, sharp dives. James plummeted towards the ground at breakneck speed, pulling up just in time to avoid a crash and score a goal. He saw Peter leaping in the stands, clapping furiously. James couldn’t resist showing off a bit, looping a few times in the air before shooting back down.

As they continued, James executed loops and dives with precision, feeling the exhilaration of the wind on his face and the thrill of the chase coursing through him. Yet, amidst the adrenaline rush, his mind kept drifting back to Marlene’s reaction. There was something more she wasn’t telling him, and it gnawed at him.

When they finished another round of manoeuvres, James decided to bring it up again. “Hey, Marley,” he began tentatively, “everything alright? You seem a bit off today. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable earlier.”

Marlene’s smile wavered before she quickly plastered it back on. “I’m fine, Jamie. Just a bit tired from all the late-night studying, that’s all.”

But James wasn’t buying it. He could see the tension in her shoulders and the way she avoided his gaze. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

Marlene’s expression softened slightly. “Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it. But really, I’m fine. Let’s just focus on practice, yeah?”

James nodded, though he couldn’t entirely shake his concern. Together, they soared through the air, their laughter mingling with the wind.

Twenty minutes later, practice wrapped up, and the Marauders began walking back towards the castle with Mary and Marlene in tow. Sirius and Remus were bubbling with excitement about their latest scheme—a spell to make Slytherins say nice things whenever they used a slur related to blood status.

“You’re supposed to be off the pitch by five o’clock,” grunted a voice, stepping in front of them.

James looked up to see the Slytherin Quidditch team approaching, brooms in hand and kits slung over their shoulders.

“We’re leaving now, Bulstrode,” James snapped, irritation clear in his voice.

The Slytherin Captain, with his pug-like face, scowled and pushed past James, deliberately knocking him with his shoulder.

“Oi!” Sirius pulled out his wand, looking ready to take action, but James grabbed his arm to hold him back.

“What’s it to you, Black?” Bulstrode sneered. “If that’s still even your name.” The Slytherins all laughed, including their smallest, newest member, who had been lingering at the back.

Regulus was there. Regulus was laughing with them.

James felt a heavy weight settle in his chest when his gaze met Regulus’s. The icy blue of Regulus’s eyes locked with his own chocolate brown. There was a moment of silent recognition, a flicker of something unspoken between them. Regulus’s expression was guarded, a mix of defiance and something softer, almost pleading.

James couldn’t shake the pang of sadness as he looked at Regulus. He remembered the moments when Regulus had let his true self shine through, the laughter and mischief they had shared when no one else was watching. But now, seeing Regulus align himself with the Slytherins and laugh at the Marauders, he seemed to embody the villain Sirius had painted him to be.

There was a conflict in Regulus’s eyes, a struggle James recognised all too well—the same one he saw in Sirius, torn between family loyalty and the desire to break free from their toxic influence. But unlike Sirius, Regulus seemed to have chosen a different path.

You have to be better than that. I know you’re better than that.

James and Remus had to pull Sirius away from the scene, as the Slytherins snickered and whispered among themselves.

“Remember the plan,” Remus murmured, and Sirius, visibly trying to contain his fury, nodded.

“Promise me we’ll get all of them,” he growled, his voice low but fierce.

Chapter Text

Monday 8th October 1973

“Sirius, you’re gonna have to come up with the replacement words, you’re the most... er…”

“Verbose?” Sirius suggested, stifling a yawn, “Loquacious? Garrulous?”

“Exactly,” Remus grinned. “I’ll work on the spell itself, see what we’ll need, and James, you figure out how we actually cast it on the whole House... that’s gonna be a right nightmare, I reckon. Peter, you’d better help with that.”

“Hark at Moony!” James snorted, reaching for another slice of toast, “Dishing out orders now, are we?”

“The Marauders are a socialist utopia,” Sirius mumbled, yawning again, “We don’t have leaders.”

“Enjoying Muggle Studies, are you?” Remus teased, raising an eyebrow. Sirius was too tired to retort, simply laying his head on the dining table and flipping two fingers at Remus with his eyes closed.

Just then, an owl swooped down onto the breakfast table—it was James’s. Sirius’s owl had been confiscated by his parents so many times that he may as well not have one, Peter usually relied on the school owls, and Remus never got any post anyway.

James tore open the letter. “What the hell?” he muttered, frowning, “The... Slug Club?!”

“Oh yeah!” Sirius opened one sleepy eye, “I got one too. Apparently, Ol’ Sluggy’s got a thing for students with a certain ‘star quality.’ So, me, obviously. And I s’pose you too.”

Neither Peter nor Remus had received an invitation. James supposed Peter’s pure-blood status wasn’t enough to impress Slughorn, but it really grated that Remus wasn’t invited. The bloke got some of the top grades in their year—what more did Slughorn want? Clearly, all the old Slytherin cared about was power, not actual qualities like intelligence or hard work.

“We won’t go, then,” James declared, folding up his letter decisively. “All for one and one for all, right?”

“Don’t be daft,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “Go if you want to. I bet Lily’s going.”

James perked up at that, feeling a grin creep onto his face despite himself. “D’you think? Yeah, she is brilliant at Potions, isn’t she? She’s brilliant at everything, probably the cleverest in the year—"

“Oi!” Sirius and Remus chimed in unison, cutting him off. James raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Alright, alright. Cleverest girl, then.”

Sirius nodded, satisfied, and promptly shut his eyes again, clearly determined to squeeze in a nap before the day properly started. James, on the other hand, was already lost in thoughts of Lily, wondering how best to impress her at this Slug Club business. Maybe he could wow her with a bit of advanced potion-making, or better yet, charm her with his wit. 

As he absent-mindedly reached for another slice of toast, the corners of his mouth twitched upward at the prospect. After all, it was a perfect opportunity to spend more time with her... even if it did mean enduring Slughorn’s insufferable flattery. 

* * *

Thursday 11th October 1973

The party was set for later that week, and James, still feeling a bit uneasy about leaving Peter and Remus out, had tried to convince them to slip under the Invisibility Cloak and crash it anyway. Sirius had thought the idea was a right laugh, but Remus looked like the suggestion pained him—like it was beneath him somehow, as if he had no interest in being singled out as special. Peter, who seemed on the verge of agreeing, eventually backed out too, so it was just James and Sirius left to face the ordeal.

Later that evening, James found himself in front of the mirror, feeling more uncomfortable than he’d care to admit. His dress robes, hardly ever worn, felt like they belonged to someone else. His latest growth spurt had left him all limbs and no coordination, and the robes only made it worse, exaggerating his lanky frame. Despite all the Quidditch, he still hadn’t quite filled out yet, and his glasses seemed to make his eyes look even bigger in his now thinner face. Next to Sirius, who looked effortlessly handsome and composed, James felt like an overgrown kid playing dress-up.

He frowned at his reflection, the familiar gnawing insecurity creeping in. What would girls think when they saw him? More to the point—what would Lily think? Sure, he could charm anyone with his humour and charisma, but would anyone ever see him as more than just funny, loud James Potter?

Sirius, fiddling with his tie, broke through his thoughts. “D’you reckon there’ll be dancing? I mean, Sluggy’s made us drag out these ridiculous robes, but he hasn’t said anything about partners.”

“Nah,” James replied, running a comb uselessly through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time. “We’d have been told to bring someone if there was.”

Sirius collapsed onto the bed with a groan. “I hate this stuff. Moony, you go for me, bet Ol’ Sluggy won’t even notice.”

“Fat chance,” Remus snorted from behind his book, Verbal Assault: Defensive Tongue Twisters. “Slughorn barely remembers my name half the time. Besides, he’ll be gutted when he’s expecting a pure-blood Black and ends up with the half-blood kid he calls Linchpin.”

“Ugh. He’s such a slimy old tosser. Like an actual slug.” Sirius smirked, clearly pleased with the mental image, nudging Remus to make sure he’d heard. “Heh, an actual slug, Moony.”

Remus smiled back, barely looking up from his book. “Yeah, I got it.”

James tossed the comb aside with a sigh, his hair just as unruly as it had been twenty minutes ago. “Ready, then?”

“S’pose,” Sirius grunted, dragging himself off the bed.

Remus stood as well, stretching. “I’ll walk down with you lot, might as well head to the library. Coming, Pete?”

Peter looked at him like he was mad and shook his head. The three of them left him behind and made their way down to the common room, where, to James’s delight, Lily was waiting in a rather lovely turquoise dress. His excitement, however, quickly fizzled out when it became obvious that she wasn’t waiting for him.

“Remus!” she called, standing up as they approached.

James, ever hopeful, seized the opportunity. “You look nice, Evans.”

Lily barely acknowledged him, her gaze fixed on Remus. “I wanted to speak to Remus. Will you walk with me to the party?”

“Not going,” Remus shrugged, “Not invited.”

“Oh...” Lily flushed, clearly embarrassed by her assumption. James felt a twinge of sympathy for her; she always did seem to stick her foot in it around Remus.

“What did you want to talk about?” Remus asked, sounding more impatient than curious. He fidgeted with his book, and James noticed the telltale signs of pre-full moon irritability creeping into his friend’s demeanor.

James watched, not entirely sure if he should be curious or disappointed, as Lily’s gaze flicked between him and Sirius. Whatever she wanted to say clearly wasn’t meant for their ears. His eyes drifted to her lips as she chewed on them nervously, then back to Remus, who looked like he was already over this entire interaction. 

Remus let out a long sigh, and James could practically hear the cogs turning in his friend’s head. “I’m off to the library,” he said flatly. “If you want to walk that way, fine.” It was clear that it would take Lily out of her way, but Remus didn’t seem to give a toss. He pushed through the portrait hole, and Lily hurried after him, her shiny black party shoes clicking loudly on the flagstones as if she was trying to keep up with his long strides.

Sirius watched them leave, shaking his head in mild amusement. James couldn’t help but sigh as they both stepped through the portrait hole.

“He could be a bit nicer to her, you know,” James muttered, unable to help himself.

“Who—Lily?” Sirius raised an incredulous eyebrow at him. “Mate, she treats you like dirt half the time.”

“Yeah,” James replied, letting out a wistful sigh, “But did you see her dress?”

Sirius snorted, a sound that perfectly encapsulated how little he understood James’s obsession with Lily Evans. To be fair, James wasn’t entirely sure he understood it either. But it was Lily, and somehow, that was all that mattered. Even if she did act like she was better than everyone else, and even if she seemed to live for playing the teacher’s pet, James couldn’t help the way his heart sped up whenever she was near. 

As they made their way towards the dungeons, James’s thoughts started to spiral. “What d’you reckon Moony’s secret is?”

“What?”

“Moony’s secret. How come she likes him? He’s a Marauder too, isn’t he?” James was genuinely puzzled, staring at Sirius as if his best mate might have the answer to the great mystery of girls. Sirius was bound to understand them better than he did. 

Sirius scratched his head, clearly not having spent nearly as much time thinking about this as James had. “Dunno, mate. They probably became friends when they worked on that Potions assignment together. And I suppose they’ve got Runes in common, and they both like to study… Maybe you just have to become a swot.”

James groaned at the thought, and Sirius couldn’t help but laugh, slinging an arm around James’s shoulders.

“Oi, don’t worry!” Sirius said with a grin, “You’ve still got me!” 

James rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help grinning back. It was true, really. No matter how much he obsessed over Lily Evans or puzzled over Remus’s ability to befriend the one girl who seemed immune to James’s usual charm, he always had Sirius. And that was a comfort in its own way, even if it didn’t help him figure out how to get Lily to see him as anything more than the loud-mouthed prat she always made him out to be. 

“Yeah, I suppose I do,” James said, nudging Sirius with his elbow as they continued down the corridor. For now, that would have to be enough.

* * *

The party, as far as James was concerned, was thoroughly mediocre. Slughorn had only managed to scrape together a small group of nine students for the evening. Aside from himself, Sirius, and Lily, there were three Slytherins, all older students from families with names that echoed with a certain snobbish prestige. James vaguely recognised them from passing sneers in the corridors. Then there was Henrietta Edgecombe, a fifth-year Ravenclaw with a rumoured connection to the Wizengamot through her great-grandfather, and another Ravenclaw, Isaac Goldstein, whose uncle was supposedly someone important in the Department of Mysteries. The sole Hufflepuff in attendance was Isadora Finch, who appeared to be there solely because she was fabulously wealthy—a credential that Slughorn seemed to value highly.

James tried to keep a polite smile plastered on his face as he wandered around Slughorn’s private quarters. The professor had herded them into a cramped parlour room, which was draped in the dreary green and silver of Slytherin. Velvet sofas that looked more decorative than comfortable lined the walls, and a small table held a meagre spread of hors d’oeuvres and pumpkin juice. 

“Please, boys, help yourselves! Dinner will be served shortly, but for now, mingle, mingle!” Slughorn enthused, his eyes flicking over the students like a collector assessing a new batch of rare specimens.

James felt a shiver of discomfort under the weight of that greasy smile. Slughorn’s gaze lingered just a moment too long on each of them, as if deciding who would be the next gem to add to his prized collection of ‘favourites’. Just as James was beginning to regret every decision that had led him to this moment, Lily made her breathless entrance, distracting the professor long enough for James and Sirius to slip away to a quieter corner.

James eyed the Slytherins with distaste as they huddled together, sneering at the other students. None of them looked remotely impressed with Slughorn’s gathering. When one of them spotted Sirius, he nudged the others, whispering something that had them all snickering in that slimy, superior way that only Slytherins seemed to master. James’s protective instincts flared up, and he grabbed Sirius’s arm, pulling him away before any of them could make a snide comment.

He tried to catch Lily’s eye once she had escaped Slughorn’s clutches, but she promptly turned her nose up and made a beeline for Isadora Finch. James considered following her, but before he could make up his mind, Isaac Goldstein appeared out of nowhere, launching into a detailed analysis of last weekend’s Quidditch match. Apparently, he was best mates with one of Ravenclaw’s Chasers, and it seemed he was under the impression that James cared deeply about every play-by-play.

Professor Slughorn, meanwhile, bustled around the room with a sort of desperate enthusiasm, loudly introducing his guests to one another.

“Miss Finch, have you met Mr. Parkinson? I attended his mother’s Solstice gala last summer—such an elegant hostess, Lady Parkinson is!”

“Ah, Mr. Goldstein, I see you’ve met Mr. Potter! I wouldn’t be surprised if this one ends up playing in the League as soon as he finishes his N.E.W.T.s. Did you know, one of my former pupils is now the coach of the Kenmare Kestrels…”

“Oh, my dear Miss Edgecombe, you simply must say hello to Miss Evans—one of the brightest students I’ve ever had the pleasure to teach! Great things in this one’s future, I’m sure, yes, great things…”

James found himself swept up in a conversation with Goldstein, Edgecombe, and Evans, all the while maintaining a charming smile that was starting to feel like it had been stuck on his face with a Permanent Sticking Charm. The trio was enthusiastically discussing the properties of Felix Felicis, the famous Liquid Luck potion, and James was doing his best to nod along as if he had any idea what they were on about. 

But as Lily spoke, James couldn’t help but steal glances at her. Her eyes sparkled with that maddening blend of intelligence and passion that always left him feeling slightly breathless. Her hair, a brilliant shade of red, cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, and James found himself utterly captivated by the way she gestured animatedly with her hands. 

Then Lily caught his gaze. For a split second, their eyes met, and James felt his heart do an uncomfortable little flip. She arched an eyebrow at him, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. James quickly averted his gaze, feeling his cheeks heat up. Merlin, he was staring, wasn’t he? 

Before he could mentally berate himself for being so obvious, Lily turned to him with a quizzical look. “Potter, what do you think?” she asked, amusement lacing her voice.

James blinked, caught completely off guard. He frantically tried to remember what they had been discussing. “Uh, well, I think… um,” he stammered, feeling the flush on his cheeks deepen. 

Before he could make an even bigger fool of himself, Sirius sidled up to him, nudging him with a sharp elbow. 

“Psst. Oi, Potter!” Sirius hissed, tugging on James’s sleeve. James shot him a questioning look, but Sirius persisted, pulling him slightly out of the conversation. 

“What?” James whispered, not sure whether to be annoyed or grateful for the interruption.

Sirius nodded towards the refreshment table, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Look!” he whispered.

James glanced over, then back at Sirius, confused. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” 

“Just look!” Sirius insisted, lowering his voice even more, “The slugs.”

James’s eyes widened as realisation dawned. His mouth curved into a grin, and he raised an eyebrow at Sirius. Transfiguration Spell?

Sirius nodded, a devious smile spreading across his face. Transfiguration Spell.

James’s grin widened, his eyes bright with excitement. Need any help? he mouthed.

Sirius flicked his head towards the other students, making a show of brushing some hair out of his face. Just keep them distracted, he mouthed back.

James gave a quick nod. Got it. He slid back into his previous spot in the conversation, determined to keep the others occupied while Sirius worked his magic.

Flashing Lily a confident smile, James decided it was time to redeem himself. “Well, Evans,” he began, his tone smooth and self-assured, “I think the properties of Felix Felicis are absolutely fascinating. The way it enhances one’s luck and allows them to achieve their deepest desires… it’s like magic in a bottle, isn’t it?”

Lily looked slightly surprised by James’s sudden eloquence. She tilted her head, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Well, Potter,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement, “I must say, I’m impressed. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

James grinned, his chest swelling with pride at the rare compliment. “Always striving to exceed expectations, Evans,” he replied with a teasing lilt. “After all, someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but there was a glimmer of fondness there that James couldn’t help but latch onto. “Oh, please,” she said, shaking her head, “as if you could ever keep up with me.”

James chuckled, leaning in slightly. “Care to put that theory to the test, Evans?” he challenged, his eyes glinting with mischief. 

Before Lily could respond, Slughorn’s booming voice cut through the room, calling for everyone’s attention. He declared that it was time for dinner, and with a dramatic flourish of his wand, one of the velvet sofas transformed into a grand mahogany dining table, complete with ten high-backed chairs. Slughorn took his place at the head, beckoning for everyone to sit down.

They had barely made it through ten minutes of dinner before all hell broke loose. James wasn’t entirely sure if Sirius had cast some sort of spell or if slugs were just naturally prolific, but when he glanced over at the hors d’oeuvres table, he nearly choked on his food. The table was swarming with slugs—slugs that, for reasons James couldn’t comprehend, were moving at an alarmingly fast pace. As he watched, they began to spill over the edges of the table, their little eye stalks waving as they ventured onto the floor, clearly ready to explore every corner of Slughorn’s parlour.

James bit down on his lip, struggling to contain his laughter. This was going to be brilliant.

* * * 

It was nearly 11 o’clock by the time they made it back to the common room. Lily Evans had stormed ahead of them the entire way, clearly fuming and making a point of not acknowledging their presence. Her steps were sharp and quick, and James couldn’t help but notice the shimmery trails of slug slime still clinging to her dress, catching the light as she stomped off. It was a sight he probably should’ve felt guilty about, but tonight, James found it impossible to care about Lily’s cold shoulder. He was laughing too hard to even try.

By the time they reached the portrait hole, both James and Sirius were doubled over, clutching their sides, struggling to catch their breath. The Fat Lady gave them a disapproving glare as they spluttered out the password between fits of laughter, but James barely noticed. His sides hurt from laughing so much, and every time he looked at Sirius, it set him off again.

When they finally staggered into the common room, still chuckling, they found Remus sitting by the fire, a book in his lap—as usual. He looked up from the pages, a curious grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of his two friends, clearly fresh from some sort of mischief.

“What did you do this time?” Remus asked, amusement evident in his voice.

James, still breathless with laughter, clapped Sirius on the back and managed to choke out, “It was all Sirius, mate.”

Sirius, ever the performer, straightened up and gave an exaggerated bow. “Couldn’t have done it without you, my dear chap,” he quipped, tossing his hair back as he righted himself.

Remus raised an eyebrow, still none the wiser. “Done what, exactly?”

“Slugs,” James said, collapsing onto the sofa next to Remus, a grin still plastered across his face. “Slugs, bloody everywhere. Started with those little jelly slug sweets Slughorn had laid out.”

Sirius, now lounging in an armchair with one leg draped over the side, added, “Simple enough Transfiguration Spell, really.”

“But then,” James continued, his eyes sparkling as he relived the moment, “Then they started to multiply. Fast-moving slugs, all over the place.”

“And that’s why Evans is furious with you?” Remus asked, although the answer was fairly obvious.

“Well, did you see the slimy bits in her dress? And, er, in her hair a bit too, I think. They were really fast-moving slugs, they sort of got… everywhere,” James admitted, though the grin on his face suggested he wasn’t particularly remorseful.

“No sense of humour, that one,” Sirius yawned, stretching out his arms. “She ought to be thanking us for livening things up a bit.”

“The nerve of some people,” Remus replied dryly, shaking his head.

“See? You get it, Moony,” Sirius said, wiggling his eyebrows in that way that usually meant he was about to suggest something outrageous. “You’d let us slime you, wouldn’t you?”

Remus gave him a flat look, clearly not amused by the idea. Ignoring Sirius’s antics, he turned to James instead. “So, did Slughorn know it was you two?”

James shrugged, still grinning. “Yeah, it was pretty obvious. We were the only ones not screaming.”

“Detentions?”

“Three weeks,” James confirmed with a mock-serious nod. “Cauldron scrubbing. That’s fine, though—helps build up the muscles.” He flexed his arms, making a show of it. He was convinced they’d grown at least two centimetres since the summer.

“Good news, though,” Sirius piped up, drawing Remus’s attention back to him, “No more parties for us—we’re out of the Slug Club.”

“And into the history books!” James added, unable to contain his glee as he imagined the look on Slughorn’s face. 

The three of them dissolved into laughter once more, the sound filling the common room. 

Chapter Text

Tuesday 30th October 1973

Remus, the genius that he was, had finally cracked the code on their Word-Changing spell. Sirius had chipped in a bit, and James and Peter had tried to help too, but really, it had all come down to Remus. Once he’d worked it out, he’d spent the remainder of October obsessing over every tiny detail, determined to get it perfect. With the Hogwarts Hallowe’en feast just around the corner, Remus was in an absolute frenzy.

“It’s fine, Moony, we all know what we’re doing,” James said as he trudged into the dormitory, fresh from Quidditch practice, covered in mud and soaked to the bone. The evenings were getting darker, and Remus hardly ever bothered to watch the team practice anymore, though Sirius and Peter usually tagged along. Mary always showed up too, ostensibly to watch Marlene, but everyone knew she was more interested in keeping Sirius company these days.

“I just think we should test it,” Remus said, his voice tinged with anxiety. Sirius, who had just cast a Drying Spell on himself, flicked his wand towards James as well, drying him off with a practised flick.

“Oh no,” Peter said, crossing his arms, “I’m not being your guinea pig again. Last time, I had that patch of purple hair for weeks!”

“I’d forgotten about that,” Sirius said dreamily, a wistful smile on his face. “It did work rather well, once we ironed out the kinks.”

“Do it on him,” Peter pointed at Sirius. “It’s his turn.”

“Don’t be a wimp, Pete,” Sirius rolled his eyes and flopped onto his bed, throwing one leg lazily over the side. “Go on, Moony, do it to me. I’m not scared.”

“Alright, fine,” Remus agreed, withdrawing his wand. Sirius sprang up from the bed, suddenly alert.

“Wait, you want to do it now?!”

“Well, the sooner the better…”

“What about the counter-jinx?!”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got that sorted,” Remus said, a smile creeping onto his face. James didn’t doubt Remus’s skills for a second, but even he could see that Sirius was starting to squirm.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” James sighed, beginning to peel off his Quidditch kit. “Do it to me, Lupin. I don’t mind, but I’m not saying any of the words on that awful list of yours. Pick something else, yeah?”

“If you like,” Remus replied, his tone businesslike.

“Yeah, about that list, Moony…” Sirius picked up the crumpled parchment from the bedside table, frowning as he scanned it.

“What about it?”

“Well… it’s really long.”

“Yeah,” Remus raised an eyebrow, “What’s your point? They’re all insults for non-pure-bloods, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, shifting uncomfortably, “Yeah, they are, but… I didn’t realise there were so many. Never seen them all written out like that. And anyway, where did you hear all of these?”

“Where do you think?” Remus met Sirius’s gaze, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. He paused, letting the silence hang for a moment. “Don’t be a girl about it, Black. It doesn’t bother me. Right, James, what word do you want to swap?”

Sirius looked back down at the list, the colour rising in his cheeks. It might not bother Remus, but it did bother James, and by the looks of it, Sirius wasn’t too thrilled either. The thought that people had been saying such nasty things to Remus made James’s blood boil.

“Evans,” Sirius said suddenly, his voice a little too loud. “I’m sick of hearing that come out of his mouth.”

“Alright,” Remus agreed, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. “What should I change it to?”

“Don’t tell me!” James interrupted, excitement bubbling up in him. “Let’s do a blind test so we know it definitely works. Pick something Black hasn’t thought of yet.”

Remus nodded, grinning as he scribbled something onto a scrap of parchment. His brow furrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out slightly as he raised his wand. James braced himself, holding his breath as Remus flicked his wand and muttered the incantation.

All four of them stood silently, waiting for something to happen.

“Er…” Remus scratched the back of his neck. “Did you feel anything?”

“Nope,” James replied, looking down at himself, half-expecting to see something amiss.

“Well, go on then, say it!” Sirius urged.

“Her full name,” Remus added helpfully.

James squared his shoulders, adopting a dramatic stance as though he were about to make a grand speech. With a flourish, he lifted one arm and placed his hand over his heart.

“LUMPY ELEPHANT DUNG!” he declared with utmost confidence.

The moment the words left his mouth, the dormitory erupted in laughter. Peter was giggling so hard he nearly toppled off the bed, and Sirius was gasping for breath, clutching his sides. James flushed a deep shade of red, glaring at Remus.

“I didn’t know you were going to pick something like that!” he spluttered. “That’s my future wife you’re talking about!”

“Who’s your future wife?” Sirius asked innocently, barely able to keep a straight face.

“Elephant Dung,” James replied automatically, then clapped his hands over his mouth in horror. “Lupin!”

“You said you didn’t mind,” Remus said with a perfectly straight face, though his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Now, try saying ‘Evans’ again, but really put some effort into breaking the spell, alright?”

“Elephant Dung,” James said immediately. He tried again, with more force, “Elephant Dung!” He screwed up his eyes in concentration, willing the word to come out right. “Ele-phan-t… D… Dung. Lumpy Elephant Dung.” Finally, he gave up, staring dejectedly at the floor.

Peter was practically wheezing with laughter by now, and Sirius had to lean on the bedpost for support.

“Excellent,” Remus said, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Oh, it’s six o’clock. Shall we go down for dinner?”

“Yeah, just undo the jinx first,” James said, trying not to sound too desperate.

“Oh no,” Remus shook his head, an impish glint in his eye. “Sorry, Potter, but I want to test the spell thoroughly—we need to be sure it won’t wear off too quickly. I’ll un-jinx you tomorrow morning.”

“What?!” James roared, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Oh yes!” Sirius gasped, wiping tears from his eyes, clearly enjoying this far too much.

“Sorry,” Remus repeated, not looking sorry at all. “Just be glad we didn’t pick a common word, I suppose.”

“But—but what if I run into Elephant Dung?”

“Oh, I don’t think you will,” Remus said, a small smile playing on his lips. “Not many elephants in Scotland, after all.”

James glared at him, knowing full well what he meant. “You know what I mean! Lumpy! Lumpy Elephant Dung?!”

Remus shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Don’t shout her name, then. Come on, I’m starving!”

* * *

"James! Look who it is!" Sirius's voice rang out with the kind of glee that always set James on edge.

"Shut. Up." James muttered through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed firmly on his dinner plate. He knew what was coming and had no intention of playing along. Sirius, of course, was unperturbed, shaking his head in mock disapproval, looking every bit like the picture of righteousness.

"That’s no way to greet… what’s her name again?" Sirius’s grin was positively wicked.

"I’m not rising to it, you know. I’m stronger than that," James insisted, though the ferocity with which he attacked his steak and kidney pie suggested otherwise. His hands were practically shaking from the effort of not looking up.

"She’s right there, mate," Sirius urged, his eyes sparkling with delight. "How will she ever notice you if you don’t call her?"

Before James could respond, Remus, with the kind of nonchalance that James both admired and resented, waved casually across the table. "Oi, Evans," he called, voice just loud enough to catch her attention. "Want to sit with us?"

Lily paused, her expression guarded as she looked over at them. "Why?"

"You’re a Gryffindor, we’re Gryffindors…" Sirius said, standing up with a flourish to offer her his seat next to James, "We’re supposed to sit together. Plus, it’ll really bother Potter."

"Well, in that case." Lily slid into the seat, her proximity making James’s heart thump uncomfortably against his ribs. Sirius, looking entirely too pleased with himself, nudged Remus over and took a seat beside him, leaving James sandwiched between Peter and Lily. He made a mental note to strangle Sirius and Remus later, preferably in their sleep.

Lily was studying him now, her gaze sharp and curious, and James could feel the heat rising up his neck. His face was probably the same shade as her hair by now. "Why do I bother you, Potter?" she asked, arching a brow.

"You don’t!" James said quickly, far too quickly. "They’re just being prats."

"Language, Potter!" Sirius interjected with a faux gasp, reaching across Remus for the gravy. "That’s no way to speak in front of a lady."

"What’s going on?" Lily’s suspicion was growing by the second as she looked from one boy to the next. "Are you all making fun of me?"

"We’re making fun of James!" Peter chimed in, looking more thrilled than he had any right to. He rarely got to join in on the teasing, and the excitement of it had him practically bouncing in his seat.

"I’m testing a spell on him," Remus explained, leaning back in his chair with that same casual air, though there was a glint of mischief in his amber eyes.

Lily’s eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation. "And what was the spell?"

"Mutatio Verbi," Remus said, trying to sound nonchalant, but there was a small twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Her eyes widened, recognition flashing across her face. "Is that… oh my god, Remus, which word?!"

"Um…" Remus hesitated, shooting a guilty look at James.

"Lumpy Elephant Dung," James mumbled, feeling the humiliation seep into his bones. He was pretty sure his ears were on fire now. Across the table, Peter sputtered, spitting out his pumpkin juice and knocking his fork flying. Lily giggled, though there was a nervous edge to it.

"What did you say, Potter?" Lily asked, leaning in closer as if she hadn’t quite heard him right.

"LLL… Lumpy," James strained, willing himself to overcome the spell. "Lumpy Elephant Dung… Lumpy."

"Lumpy…?! Oh, for pity’s sake!" Lily’s eyes flared as she turned to Sirius, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "It’s my name, isn’t it?"

"Don’t look at me!" Sirius held his hands up in mock innocence. "It was Moony’s idea!"

Lily’s scowl softened as she turned to Remus, her expression shifting to one of curiosity. "Really, Remus?" There was something in her tone, a kind of awe, that James couldn’t help but notice. She was looking at Remus like he was something special, something miraculous. James would give anything for her to look at him that way.

Remus suddenly looked uncomfortable, guilt flickering in his eyes. "Err… yeah, but it wasn’t meant to be offensive or anything—"

"That’s amazing!" she said, her face lighting up with genuine admiration. "Really clever magic!"

James felt a pang of jealousy twist in his chest. She was practically glowing as she gazed at Remus, and all James could do was sit there, reduced to a blushing mess who couldn’t even say her name properly.

"Wait until tomorrow!" Peter piped up, still recovering from his laughing fit. Sirius kicked him under the table, but Peter was too pleased with himself to care.

"I’m so sorry, Elephant Dung," James said, his tone mournful and utterly sincere. For a split second, the table was silent—until Lily, to James’s surprise, burst out laughing.

It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected, but it was the best sound he’d heard all day.

* * *

Wednesday 31st October 1973

"Nothing's happening."

"Well, they're not going to start insulting each other straight away, are they?" Remus muttered, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

"We've got to push them into it. Pete, go on, give them a little shove—"

"Oi, I'm pure-blood!" Peter shot back, folding his arms defiantly.

"Oh yeah, fair play," Sirius conceded, his eyes darting around the Great Hall. "Um… Moony, go trip one of them or something. Do it to Snivellus. Or better yet, my cousin. Yeah, get Cissy!"

"No," Remus said firmly, giving Sirius a look that clearly said he wasn't about to entertain any of his nonsense. "We'll just wait. Patience, Black, patience."

"But it might take days," Sirius whined, slumping back in his seat.

"It won't," Mary interjected, her voice laced with a kind of dark certainty. "You lot must be blind if you haven't seen what's been going on around here." Sirius fell silent, abashed, as if he'd been caught out. Mary was sharp like that—she always seemed to notice things the others missed.

Mary had been sitting next to Sirius more often than not these days, and while James didn't mind her company—he actually liked her quite a bit, what with her quick wit and kind heart—he couldn't help but notice that she had a certain interest in Sirius. She always managed to sit beside him, batting her lashes and laughing just a little too loudly at his jokes. It wasn’t that James fancied Mary, but the way she openly admired Sirius was a sharp reminder that Sirius didn’t have to lift a finger to get girls to like him. It gnawed at James, knowing he was nothing like that. 

"What's been going on, then?" James asked, genuinely concerned now. He'd been too caught up in his own world, chasing after Lily, to notice anything else. "Do you get called stuff, MacDonald?"

Mary shrugged, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice, but her eyes were stormy. "It's been worse this year. You must know, Remus?"

Remus nodded, though he didn't meet her gaze, instead pretending to be more interested in watching the Slytherins across the hall. The Hallowe'en feast was in full swing, with Professor Flitwick's enchanted glittering bats swooping over their heads, and the Great Hall was a riot of autumn colours and rich smells—roast pumpkin, wood smoke, baked apples. But there was an undercurrent, a tension that cut through the festive atmosphere like a cold wind.

"So..." James continued, his voice cautious, "Have all the Muggle-borns been getting it, then? Even... even Elephant Dung—oh for fuck's sake, Remus! Please fix me!"

"If you'll do my Potions homework," Remus replied without missing a beat, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Fine! Anything! I'll give you my bloody broomstick if you'll just—"

"Finite." Remus pointed his wand at James with a casual flick.

James blinked, stunned by how simple it had been. He cleared his throat, the weight of the spell lifting from his voice, "Lily Evans," he said, cautiously testing the words. As soon as her name passed his lips, his face split into a wide grin. He could've kissed Remus right there and then.

"What now, Potter?!" Lily turned around, interrupting her conversation with Marlene to shoot him a glare. 

"Will you go out with me?" James asked, the words slipping out before he could stop himself.

"No." She turned away again, not missing a beat.

"Cheers, Moony," James said, still grinning like an idiot despite Lily's flat rejection.

"Anytime," Remus replied, far too pleased with himself.

"Wait," Sirius said, narrowing his eyes as if something had just occurred to him. "Wait just a minute. The counter-jinx was Finite Incantatem?!"

"Yep," Remus replied, entirely unfazed.

"But that’s just the standard counter spell!" Sirius looked scandalised, as though Remus had just revealed some grand betrayal.

Remus shrugged, "I never said it was anything difficult. You pure-bloods don’t have an ounce of common sense between you."

Mary let out a loud squawk of laughter, and James nearly choked on his roast potato. Sirius slapped Remus on the back, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"I swear, Moony. When it comes to evil schemes, none of us have got anything on you."

Remus flushed, shrugging off the praise with an embarrassed grin before returning to his dinner.

"Look!" Peter suddenly cried out, grabbing James's arm and pointing towards the Slytherin table. A second-year Hufflepuff had wandered too close to Mulciber, who was now pushing his chair back and towering over the poor kid.

"Yes," Sirius whispered, leaning forward with a gleeful glint in his eye. "Go on, you big troll..."

The Hufflepuff was shaking like a leaf, their drink sloshing down the front of their robes. Some of the liquid sprinkled onto Mulciber’s shiny black shoes, and his face twisted into an ugly grimace. They all watched, holding their breath, as the much larger boy grabbed the Hufflepuff by the tie, the rest of the Slytherins waiting with bated breath for the inevitable outburst.

"Clean that up, you angelic sweetie-pops."

You could've heard a pin drop. The Hufflepuff went from terrified to utterly confused, a shaky laugh escaping their lips. Mulciber blinked, his beady little eyes looking even stupider than usual.

"What did you say, Mulciber?" Snape asked, staring at him in disbelief.

"Angelic sweetie-pops!" Mulciber shouted, his face growing redder with every word. "No! I meant—darling sugar plum! No! Goody-gumdrops!"

The entire hall erupted in laughter, the noise echoing off the enchanted ceiling.

"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered, his eyes wide with astonishment. "Mulciber’s really got a mouth on him, eh? I didn’t think they’d use half of those."

"Sit down, you idiot," Snape snapped at Mulciber, who had let go of the Hufflepuff’s tie and was now helplessly spewing cutesy nonsense to the amusement of everyone around him.

"That was brilliant, Sirius!" Mary said, her eyes shining with delight as she bounced in her seat. And then, before anyone could react, she leaned over and enveloped Sirius in a hug.

"Just wait," Sirius said, looking rather pleased with himself. "That was just the beginning."

Chapter Text

Friday 2nd November 1973

James emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped over his shoulder, his hair still damp and sticking up in every direction from the shower. The dormitory was dimly lit, with the last rays of the setting sun filtering through the curtains. He glanced around the familiar room, his gaze quickly landing on Remus, who was crouched beside his trunk, looking suspiciously shifty.

James squinted, curiosity immediately piqued. Remus was being too careful, too deliberate with his movements. James watched as his friend opened the trunk, the hinges creaking loudly in the quiet room. Remus quickly shoved something inside, burying it beneath an old pair of jeans as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

James, never one to miss an opportunity for a bit of mischief, took a few steps closer. His glasses were still steamed up from the shower, making it hard to see, but he could just about make out the guilty expression on Remus's face.

“Hiya, Moony,” he said, trying to sound casual as he flicked his towel onto his bed.

Remus jumped, slamming the trunk shut with a heavy THUNK before spinning around, looking rather like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hi,” Remus replied, a little too quickly, his voice higher than usual.

James smirked, thoroughly enjoying this. “Are you up to something?” He asked, leaning in as if to examine Remus closer, even though his glasses were still foggy.

“No,” Remus said, but the guilty look on his face said otherwise.

“What are you doing, then?”

“Nothing!” Remus repeated, his voice wavering slightly.

“Is it Sirius’s birthday present?” James ventured, taking a wild guess.

Remus sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “Yes.”

“You don’t have to hide it from me, Moony,” James laughed, his tone light as he began to get dressed. “I won’t tell him. You know I’m rubbish at lying, but I can keep a secret.”

Remus shrugged awkwardly, still looking a bit flustered. James wondered why his friend had been so desperate to hide the package. It wasn’t like Remus to be so secretive, especially not with him. Then again, Remus was always a bit of a mystery, wasn’t he?

James didn’t mind. He was more interested in making sure Sirius had the best birthday ever. Unlike the elaborate material gifts he’d grown up with, James much preferred giving thoughtful presents—ones that really meant something. And if he could be involved in the celebration, even better. There was nothing he loved more than seeing his friends happy.

“Lucky it’s a Saturday this year,” Remus said, his voice a bit more relaxed now that the trunk was safely shut. “D’you know what we’re going to do?”

“Well, obviously, we’ll have to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ at breakfast,” James said, with an exaggeratedly serious tone.

“Obviously,” Remus agreed, playing along.

“And lunch, and dinner,” James continued, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “I’ve got Quidditch practice in the morning, but I’ve sorted it with Hooch to get an extra half-hour on the pitch before the Ravenclaws take over. We can do a bit of flying.”

“Oh, good,” Remus said, though his tone was less than enthusiastic. James knew full well that sitting in the cold Quidditch stands wasn’t exactly Remus’s idea of fun, but it was Sirius’s birthday. James made a mental note to bring a book for him—something to keep him occupied while James and Sirius did their thing.

“Then I suppose he’ll have to do that afternoon tea thing with Regulus and Narcissa,” James added, wrinkling his nose at the thought. “So, we’ll have to find out when that ends before we can sort out a proper party. D’you think the others’ll mind if we use the common room?”

“Nah,” Remus shook his head confidently. And why would they? James and Sirius had never been denied anything in Gryffindor, not when it came to parties. And especially not this week, when their popularity was through the roof.

Ever since Halloween, James had barely been able to walk down a corridor without getting a pat on the back or hearing someone cheer. It was bloody brilliant. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were on their side. The Slytherins, of course, were still glaring daggers at him whenever he passed, but they couldn’t do anything about it. A few of them had tried, of course, throwing out the odd ‘angelic sweetie pops’ or ‘honey fluffkins,’ but it just made everyone laugh even harder. Snape had even lost it completely during Charms on Friday, calling James a ‘lovely little poppet,’ which nearly sent Sirius into hysterics and made Lily flush a deep red.

The best part? The Slytherins couldn’t even complain to the staff about it because that would mean admitting what had been said. So, it was a slow and immensely satisfying process to watch them flounder, trying to figure out the counter-curse on their own.

“Serves them right,” Marlene had giggled that morning. “If they were Hufflepuffs, they’d have lifted the spell by now.”

Overnight, the Marauders had gone from being the well-liked class clowns to full-on heroes in the ongoing House war. James tried not to let it go to his head, though it was hard not to when he was practically being worshipped. Instead, he focused on what really mattered—Sirius’s upcoming fourteenth birthday. Fourteen felt like a proper age, didn’t it? Like you were really a teenager, no going back.

That evening, Mary joined them at dinner again. James couldn’t help but notice how she always seemed to sit next to Sirius, leaning in a bit too close, her laughter just a touch too loud. James wasn’t blind—he could see what was happening. And while he didn’t mind Mary being there, he did find himself wondering how Remus felt about the whole thing. After all, Remus was the best of them at talking to girls, but he seemed perfectly normal, carrying on as usual. Maybe it didn’t bother him at all. Maybe James was just overthinking things. But it did make him feel a bit envious—Mary was so confident around Sirius, so sure of herself. James wished he could be like that around Lily.

“What time will you be free tomorrow, Black?” James asked, around a mouthful of crispy battered cod.

“What d’you mean?” Sirius asked, splashing vinegar over his plate and then passing the bottle to Remus. Mary, who had been reaching for it, gave Remus a funny look but didn’t say anything.

“You know, what time do you think your Black family tea will be finished? For your birthday?” James clarified, looking at Sirius with raised eyebrows.

“Oooh, is it your birthday, Sirius?” Mary piped up, smiling brightly. “You never said! I would’ve got you something!”

“Would you?” Sirius frowned slightly, looking puzzled. James could almost see the wheels turning in his friend’s head. The girl must really like him if she was offering a birthday present. James wondered if Lily even knew when his birthday was. Of course, he knew hers—January 30th. He’d put a giant bouquet of lilies at the bottom of the stairs to the girls’ dorm on her last birthday, only for her to toss them into the fire, declaring that lilies were her least favourite flower. It still stung to think about.

Sirius turned back to James, “I don’t think the tea is happening this year. Haven’t had a note.”

“Oh, really?” James blinked, surprised. “Are you… I mean, is that okay?”

Sirius snorted, looking down at his plate. “Why wouldn’t it be? Like I give a toss.”

“Well… great, then,” James said, grinning as he shot a look at Peter and Remus that only they would understand. “We can crack on with planning you the messiest party Gryffindor Tower has ever seen.”

“Yeah!” Peter chimed in, his face lighting up.

“Am I invited?” Mary asked, sitting up straighter, her eyes flicking between the boys.

“Obviously,” Remus drawled, surprising James with the amount of sarcasm in his voice. “Everyone’s invited.”

“Look, maybe don’t make a big fuss,” Sirius said, poking at his peas with a fork. “I don’t feel like it much.”

“Oh, why not?” Mary pouted, batting her lashes. “It’ll be fun! We’ll make it as good as Remus’s birthday last year—even better!”

But Sirius just shrugged, not saying a word. James threw another look at Peter and Remus. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. They ate the rest of their meal in near-total silence, the usual banter and laughter conspicuously absent. James couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering Sirius, but he wasn’t sure how to ask. Instead, he just made a mental note to keep an eye on his friend. After all, Sirius’s birthday was meant to be a happy day, and James would be damned if he let anything ruin it.

* * *

Saturday 3rd November 1973

James woke up bright and early, as he did every Saturday, but today was special. Instead of his usual bellow of ‘Rise and shine!’ to rouse his mates, he serenaded Sirius with a spirited rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’

Sirius stirred, a lazy smile creeping across his face as he stretched out, yawning. “Y’know, mate, if you really wanted to make me happy, you could let me sleep a bit longer…”

James chuckled, giving his best friend a playful tug on the arm. “Not a chance! Come on, I’ve got a surprise for you after practice. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Sirius yawned again, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but he knew better than to resist James when he was this excited. James had been bursting at the seams all week, barely able to keep the surprise under wraps, and his enthusiasm was infectious.

As Sirius reluctantly got dressed, James glanced over at Remus’s bed and tutted at the still-drawn curtains. It was almost impressive that Remus had managed to sleep through James’s loud and off-key singing.

“Sleeps like the dead, that one,” James said, shaking his head in disbelief. “C’mon, Peter, help me wake him up.”

“No—wait.” Sirius paused, his gaze shifting to Remus’s bed. James followed his line of sight, understanding at once. Remus would drag himself out of bed if they asked him to, of course; it was Sirius’s birthday, after all. But James could see the concern in Sirius’s eyes. Remus had been looking particularly knackered lately, and Sirius didn’t want him missing out on the chance for all of them to hang out together, but not at the cost of Remus’s well-being.

“Let him sleep,” Sirius said quietly to James and Peter. “You know he’ll just stick his nose in a book if we force him to come down.”

James shrugged, moving away from the drawn curtains. Sirius quickly scrawled a note before they left, so Remus wouldn’t wonder where they’d gone when he eventually woke up.

Outside, the air was crisp, the kind that makes your cheeks tingle and your breath puff out in little clouds. It was the kind of chilly autumn day that hinted at winter’s imminent arrival. James stuffed his hands in his pockets, momentarily wishing he’d brought his scarf. But the sky was clear and blue, and the sun, though still low, promised warmer weather soon enough—perfect conditions for flying.

He waved his two friends off and made his way to the changing rooms. The moment practice began, James soared into the air, feeling the wind whip through his dark, untamed hair. Up here, everything felt right. He scanned the stands from his vantage point, searching for his friends among the scattered spectators. They hadn’t arrived yet, but his eyes caught sight of Mary. He couldn’t resist a smirk and nudged Marlene, who was flying alongside him.

“Oi, Marley, looks like your biggest fan’s already here,” James teased, nodding towards Mary, who was bundled up in the stands.

Marlene chuckled, nudging him back with her elbow. “Looks like she’s freezing her knickers off, though. Poor thing.”

As they flew closer, James noticed Sirius and Peter making their way up to the stands, Sirius settling down next to Mary. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as he saw Mary sidling up to Sirius, her fingers lightly trailing against his arm. But what really caught James off guard was the look on Sirius’s face—gone was his usual carefree swagger, replaced with a sort of awkward stiffness. It wasn’t like Sirius to be uncomfortable around anyone, let alone a girl, and it set off a little alarm bell in James’s mind.

He glanced back at Marlene, whose usual playful demeanor seemed to have faltered. There was a subtle tension in her posture, something James couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Hey, Marley, you alright?” James asked, genuine concern colouring his voice. “You seem a bit off today.”

Marlene forced a smile, but her eyes flicked back to the stands, where Sirius and Mary sat close together. “I’m fine, Jamie. Just a bit tired, that’s all. Let’s not worry about it.”

But James wasn’t convinced. Something was bothering Marlene, and he had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with Sirius and Mary. Over the past few weeks, he’d noticed Marlene’s lingering glances towards Sirius whenever Mary was around, the way her mood seemed to dip slightly in those moments. Before he could stop himself, the question that had been niggling at the back of his mind slipped out.

“Hey, Marley, do you… fancy Sirius?” James asked, his voice tentative, not wanting to upset her but unable to keep the curiosity at bay.

Marlene’s eyes widened, her expression shifting from surprise to something more defensive in an instant. “What? No, of course not!” she exclaimed, a bit too quickly. “Why would you even think that?”

James faltered, feeling a bit out of his depth. He’d never seen Marlene lose her cool like this, and it left him scrambling for the right thing to say.

“I—I’m sorry, Marley,” James stammered, a wave of guilt washing over him. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just… curious, that’s all.”

Marlene sighed, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “It’s alright, Jamie. Just… let’s focus on practice, yeah? We won’t beat Slytherin by slacking off.”

James nodded, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Marlene’s reaction than she was letting on. Something she wasn’t ready to share, perhaps. He made a mental note to keep an eye on the situation, just in case.

When practice finally ended, James was the first to land, his excitement bubbling over as he sprinted towards the stands. He pulled Sirius away from Mary with an infectious grin, hardly able to contain himself. “Come on, mate! Madam Hooch’s letting us have the pitch to ourselves for a bit before the Ravenclaws come on.”

Sirius’s face lit up with a grin that nearly matched James’s enthusiasm, though there was a flicker of something else—relief, maybe? Whatever it was, Sirius seemed eager to escape the awkwardness of the stands and take to the skies with his best friend. They quickly said their goodbyes to the girls, then mounted their brooms and shot into the air, engaging in a high-speed race to the Quidditch hoops. James couldn’t help but laugh as the wind roared in his ears, the thrill of the chase and the sheer joy of flying with his best mate filling him with a sense of exhilaration that nothing else could match.

* * *

The party was an unmitigated triumph. And when I say triumph, I mean it was so loud that the entire Gryffindor common room had taken on the characteristics of a circus. Every lion motif on the walls—of which there were rather a lot—had been enchanted to roar every time anyone uttered the words ‘birthday’ or ‘Sirius’. 

James was absolutely ecstatic. It was the sort of happiness that made him feel like he’d just had a whole tankard of Butterbeer and a handful of Sugar Quills. 

The whole of Gryffindor House had turned up, and James had a sneaking suspicion that some of the older students were indulging in something a bit stronger than Butterbeer. The record player Sirius had brought out was spinning at double speed, and the girls had taken to dancing with fervour. Mary had made a valiant attempt to drag Sirius onto the dance floor for a spirited rendition of David Bowie’s ‘John, I’m Only Dancing’, but Sirius had firmly declined, preferring to stay ensconced on the couch with Remus and Peter.

“I only know the waltz,” Sirius had protested, “and I’ll be damned if I ever do that again.”

James, on the other hand, had attempted to shake his hips in what he hoped was a vaguely rhythmical manner, mainly as an excuse to be as close to Lily as possible. Unfortunately, his coordination failed him, and he tripped over a rogue rug, nearly flinging himself into the fireplace. Sirius’s booming laugh was a clear sign that he was enjoying himself—at least his family’s antics weren’t weighing on him tonight.

James had been the social butterfly of the evening, flitting from group to group, making sure everyone felt included. The common room buzzed with laughter and music, and James felt a pang of relief when he decided he needed a brief escape from the chaos. Slipping on his Invisibility Cloak, he made his way to the portrait hole, desperate for a moment of quiet.

Stepping outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the party. James took a deep breath, savouring the silence of the corridor. But his reprieve was short-lived when he spotted a shadowy figure lurking near the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

His curiosity piqued, James approached cautiously, his footsteps muffled by the cloak. As he drew closer, he recognised the silhouette of Regulus Black. What on earth was he doing here?

James inched closer, trying to stay as silent as possible. He could see that Regulus was holding a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. Before James could fully process the situation, Regulus looked up, his eyes narrowing as though he’d sensed something out of place. James froze, his heart racing.

“Who’s there?” Regulus called out, his voice tight with tension.

James hesitated for a moment, then decided to reveal himself. He pulled off the cloak and stepped into the torchlight, hoping his voice sounded casual. “It’s just me, Regulus,” he said, trying to keep things light. “James.”

Regulus’s eyes widened in surprise, and he took a cautious step back. “Potter? What are you doing here?”

James forced a chuckle, trying to sound nonchalant. “Oh, you know, just getting some fresh air. And this is my dorm, after all.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “How come I didn’t see you come out?”

“Maybe you’re not as observant as you think?” James quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Regulus didn’t seem amused, though his suspicion softened slightly. “Right. Well, I should get back. It’s getting late.”

But James wasn’t ready to let him go just yet. “Wait, Regulus,” he said, reaching out a hand to stop him. “What’s with the package?”

Regulus hesitated, then let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. “It’s a present for Sirius. I wanted to leave it for him since the family tea isn’t happening.”

James’s eyebrows shot up. “A present? From you?”

Regulus nodded, his expression sombre. “Yeah.”

James’s curiosity was piqued. “What is it?”

Regulus seemed torn, but finally he spoke. “It’s… it’s a book. I thought he might like it.”

James nodded, touched by the gesture. “That’s really thoughtful of you, Regulus. Why don’t you come inside and give it to him yourself?”

Regulus shook his head firmly. “No, Sirius wouldn’t want to see me.”

James’s heart ached at the reluctance in Regulus’s voice. “Nonsense. He’s your brother. He’d want to see you, Regulus.”

Regulus looked pained. “No, I can’t. Just… make sure he gets it, alright? And don’t tell him it’s from me. It’s better this way.”

James could see the genuine pain in Regulus’s eyes, and he nodded solemnly. “Okay, Regulus. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

With a final nod, Regulus turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving James alone in the corridor. As he watched Regulus vanish, he felt a tinge of sadness. But he was determined to honour Regulus’s request and ensure Sirius received his gift. He tucked the package under his arm and headed back inside the portrait hole.

The common room was still alive with energy when he re-entered. “Oi, Black!” James called out, a grin on his face as he approached Sirius. “I’ve got another gift for you!”

Chapter Text

Friday 9th November 1973

By the following weekend, James couldn’t quite shake the thoughts of the Black brothers from his mind. The encounter with Regulus had left a lingering sadness, a dull ache that seemed to gnaw at him. Sirius spoke so warmly of their childhood days together; it was hard to reconcile that with the strained relationship they had now. 

James had always known that Sirius’s family situation was a tangled mess. He’d heard enough tales of the Black family’s toxicity to understand that their household was a cauldron of bitterness. But seeing Regulus, so conflicted and guarded, had made James realise that Sirius’s stories only scratched the surface of a more complicated reality.

Regulus had been sorted into Slytherin and was from the same family as Bellatrix and Narcissa, but James refused to believe that these facts defined him completely. There was something about the way Regulus had spoken, the vulnerability that lurked beneath his seemingly indifferent exterior, that tugged at James’s heartstrings. 

He couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy for Regulus, caught in a family that demanded nothing short of perfection. Perhaps, deep down, Regulus wasn’t as bad as everyone thought. Maybe he was simply a product of his upbringing, struggling to find his own place in a world that had never quite accepted him.

But how could James help? Sirius was as stubborn as a mule, and Regulus seemed to be equally so. It would take more than mere words to bridge the gap between them. James knew he couldn’t force them to reconcile, but maybe he could be a mediator, a bridge to bring them closer.

Unfortunately, James hadn’t had much time to devise a plan over the past week. He’d been buried under piles of homework, plotting new pranks, and listening to Sirius badgering them about their Animagi project.

By the end of September, James had dutifully finished his reading on Animagi and handed over the parchment to Peter. Sirius had spent October pestering Peter to read faster, with little success. Peter struggled to keep up with classes and homework, and his progress on the Animagi research was as slow as molasses.

When Peter and James finally returned to Sirius with their list of questions, Peter mainly wanted reassurance that they wouldn’t get into trouble. James, on the other hand, had pointed out some conflicting information and gaps in their research. Sirius reluctantly admitted that they needed to sort out a few more details before approaching Remus with their plan. He then insisted that James and Peter help with the next round of research.

Organising study sessions around three busy schedules was, of course, a logistical nightmare. They had to be careful not to let Remus catch wind of their project, which meant sneaking off whenever he was otherwise occupied. Eventually, Sirius conceded that forcing the other Marauders to take equal shares of the work was just slowing them down. He assigned specific tasks to James and Peter, and they continued their research separately.

This was why, on a sunny Friday afternoon, James was descending the stairs into the dungeons under his Invisibility Cloak. One of the issues he had pointed out was that the recipe called for crystal vials—clearly not the ordinary ones students used. 

His footsteps echoed softly in the quiet dungeon as he scoured cabinets and shelves, eyes squinting in the dim light. Rounding a corner, his heart skipped a beat when he saw Lily sitting alone at one of the worktables, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

James froze, hidden beneath his cloak, a swirl of concern and curiosity knotting in his chest. There was a letter in front of her, and the tears tracing down her cheeks spoke of distress. He hesitated, unsure whether to reveal himself or give her some space.

However, fate had other plans. James accidentally knocked over a small bottle on the nearby shelf, and the clatter reverberated through the still room. Lily’s head snapped up, eyes scanning the room with alarm, and James knew he had been caught.

With a resigned sigh, he threw off his cloak and stepped into the light. Lily’s glare was a mix of anger and confusion.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” she demanded, her voice sharp.

James flashed his most charming grin. “Just passing through, Evans. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Lily’s expression softened a fraction, but she remained guarded. James couldn’t help but feel a pang of genuine concern for her. He had always seen her as strong and independent, but seeing her so vulnerable tugged at his heartstrings.

“Are you alright?” he asked, dropping the playful façade for a moment.

Lily shook her head. “It’s nothing, Potter. Just a letter from home.”

James nodded, sensing she wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Fair enough. I’m actually here looking for crystal vials,” he said, hoping to shift the mood.

Lily arched an eyebrow. “Crystal vials, huh? What for?”

James paused, considering his response. “Well, if you won’t tell me about the letter, I won’t tell you about the vials,” he offered with a small smile, hoping to coax her into a conversation.

Lily studied him, her expression softening slightly. “Fair enough,” she conceded, pushing herself up from the desk. “Come on, I know where Slughorn keeps his private stash.”

As they entered Slughorn’s private office, the dim light cast eerie shadows across the room. The air was thick with the scent of potion ingredients.

“So, Evans, breaking into professors’ offices a habit of yours?” James teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Lily rolled her eyes, but a playful grin tugged at her lips. “Only when I’m with you, Potter. You seem to attract trouble.”

James chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied, flashing her a grin.

As they searched through the drawers and cabinets, James couldn’t help but admire Lily’s resourcefulness. She moved with purpose, her determination evident in every gesture.

Eventually, Lily spotted the vials on a high shelf. Without hesitation, she reached out, stretching on tiptoe, her fingers just grazing the edge of the shelf.

“You know, Evans, it’s not a crime to ask for help,” James teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Lily shot him a glare, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I’ve got it, Potter,” she insisted stubbornly.

James chuckled softly, finding her refusal to ask for help endearing. With a shake of his head, he reached up effortlessly, plucking the vials from the shelf.

“Is it really that hard to admit when you need a hand?” he teased, gently nudging her with his elbow.

Lily accepted the vials with a huff, shooting him a playful scowl. “Typical Marauder,” she muttered.

As James towered over her, he couldn’t help but notice how much he’d grown since their first meeting. He found himself staring down into her eyes, a warmth spreading through him as he admitted, “You know, Evans, I really like this side of you. It’s a shame you don’t show it more often.”

Lily blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?” she asked.

James hesitated, his usual bravado faltering. “I mean, you’re always so… well-behaved, you know? But here, breaking the rules with me, you seem more… alive,” he confessed.

“I could ask you the same thing, Potter,” she retorted. “Why do you never show people this side of you?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Evans,” James admitted softly, meeting her gaze. “It’s just… I don’t want to disappoint people. They expect me to be a certain way. I guess I’m just afraid of letting them down.”

Lily’s expression softened, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “I know what you mean,” she whispered.

James nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Maybe we both have the same problem,” he mused. Lily’s eyes widened in surprise, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. She opened her mouth to respond, but the creak of the door interrupted her.

As Slughorn’s heavy footsteps echoed closer, James’s heart raced with adrenaline. He quickly motioned for Lily to duck under the desk with him, hoping to avoid detection. But as they crouched down together, Lily accidentally stepped on his hand, causing a jolt of pain.

“Ouch!” James almost exclaimed, but Lily pressed her hand firmly over his mouth, silencing him. He looked at her, eyes wide with surprise, but she simply shot him a pleading look, urging him to stay quiet.

They sat in tense silence, the seconds dragging by as Slughorn moved around the office, oblivious to their presence. James could feel Lily’s breath against his cheek, her hand still pressed firmly over his mouth. He focused on the sound of Slughorn’s footsteps, willing the professor to leave.

Suddenly, James noticed Slughorn’s shadow looming closer to Lily. Without a second thought, he grabbed a nearby potion bottle and hurled it across the room, creating a loud crash that diverted Slughorn’s attention.

As Slughorn busied himself investigating the noise, James grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her out from under the desk. They dashed out of the office and raced through the corridors, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls.

In the Entrance Hall, James skidded to a stop, his heart still pounding with worry. He stole a glance at Lily, relieved to see her unharmed but still anxious.

“Are you alright?” James blurted out, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Lily blinked in surprise, her green eyes widening slightly. “I’m fine, Potter,” she replied, her tone carrying a hint of defensiveness. “Don’t worry about me.”

But as Lily’s gaze fell on his hand, her expression softened. “But what about you? You’re bleeding!” she exclaimed.

James looked down at his hand, feeling a sharp twinge of pain now that the adrenaline had begun to wear off. He’d cut himself on the bottle he’d thrown. 

He shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s nothing, just a scratch,” he said nonchalantly, though he couldn’t quite suppress the wince that crossed his face. 

Lily wasn’t having any of it. With a determined frown, she grabbed his uninjured hand and pulled him towards the Hospital Wing.

Inside the Hospital Wing, Lily set to work with the kind of practised efficiency that suggested she’d spent more time here than she might have cared to admit. She gathered bandages and cleaning supplies, her movements sharp and focused. James watched her, touched by the care and skill she displayed.

“Why are you doing this?” James asked, unable to mask the curiosity in his voice. “I mean, don’t you know any Healing Spells?”

Lily’s expression darkened slightly at his words, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Of course I know how to do it with magic,” she retorted, her tone sharper than a freshly sharpened quill. “But that’s not the point.”

James felt a pang of guilt at her reaction. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Evans,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. “I was just curious.”

Lily’s demeanour softened at his apology. She sighed, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “I just… I prefer not to rely on magic for everything,” she explained, her voice softening. “Not everything can or should be solved with a spell.”

Once Lily finished bandaging his hand, she handed him the crystal vials they’d retrieved. “Here,” she said, her tone a touch brisk. “And don’t get any ideas, Potter. This isn’t going to become a regular thing. I’m not making a habit of helping you out.”

James grinned, accepting the vials with a nod of thanks. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Evans,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But seriously, thanks. I owe you one.”

Lily gave him a sceptical look. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way to make me regret this,” she said, but there was a glimmer of a smile tugging at her lips.

James chuckled. “You know me too well,” he said, giving her a playful nudge. “But until then, I’ll be sure to remember this little favour. Maybe one day I’ll even get a chance to return it.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her gaze as she watched him leave. “Don’t let it go to your head, Potter,” she called after him. “And try not to get into too much trouble, will you?”

James gave her a wink as he headed out. “No promises,” he said with a grin. “But I’ll do my best.”

* * *

Sunday 11th November 1973

James was resolute: they had gathered enough information to approach Remus, but he insisted they wait until after the full moon. Sirius, ever the impatient one, tried to convince him otherwise, but James remained firm. “We shouldn't cause him any stress before his transformation,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. They all knew how taxing the process was for their friend.

The full moon fell on Saturday night, which meant James spent the weekend playing a sort of tactical hide-and-seek with Sirius. The only time Sirius seemed inclined to keep his mouth shut was during dinner, when they met with Mary, as usual. Oddly, Sirius seemed determined to avoid speaking to Mary entirely. Perhaps he was beginning to fancy her and was now flummoxed by his own nerves—a thought that amused James immensely. Imagining Sirius Black, the epitome of bravado, getting jittery around anyone was a laughable concept.

Sunday morning saw Remus confined to the Hospital Wing. They would have gone to visit him, but a Quidditch match intervened—Gryffindor lost, and James was left in a distinctly foul mood. Once he had changed out of his Quidditch kit, he herded Sirius and Peter to the library, where they spent the afternoon double-checking research and trying to make sense of the chaotic pile of parchment they had accumulated.

It wasn’t until evening that James declared them ready to confront Remus. They hurried to the Hospital Wing, only to be met with the news that Madam Pomfrey had already sent their friend back to the common room to rest. She gave them a stern look, warning them not to disturb Remus if he was sleeping, and sent them on their way.

At the door to their dorm, James raised a finger to his lips. When they opened it, they were met with darkness and silence, the curtains drawn tightly around Remus’s bed. Sirius was practically vibrating with anticipation, and James placed a calming hand on his shoulder—Sirius looked as though he might explode if he didn’t utter the word “Animagus” in the next ten seconds.

“Moony?” James whispered as they crept into the room.

There was no response.

They approached the bed, and James tried again, “Psst, Moony? You asleep, mate?”

A moment of silence stretched, then a rustling noise and a deep sigh emerged from the darkness.

“No.”

James pulled the curtains aside, revealing Remus sitting up, his amber eyes blinking in the dim light. James, Sirius, and Peter all took their places around him on the bed.

“We went to the Hospital Wing, but she said you’d gone back,” James explained.

“Came up after dinner. Where were you?” Remus asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“Library,” Sirius answered, glancing at the fresh bandages on Remus’s arms. James noticed Sirius was barely containing his excitement.

“How was it?” Sirius asked, his eyes wide. “The full moon and all?”

“Okay,” Remus replied, his voice carrying the same monotonous tone he used every month.

“It wasn’t… I mean, you weren’t too badly hurt?” Peter asked anxiously.

“A bit,” Remus admitted with a shrug, “Not too bad. What were you doing in the library?”

“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about!” Sirius burst out. James placed a restraining hand on Sirius’s knee. The black-haired boy was practically bouncing on the mattress.

“Sirius,” James said, using the tone he reserved for reigning in his more excitable friends. He turned to Remus, “We’ve been doing some research, and it’s sort of about you.”

“Sort of!” Sirius scoffed, “It’s all about you, Moony. I’ve been itching to tell you since last term, but James kept insisting—”

“I just wanted to be certain we could actually pull it off,” James interrupted, elbowing Sirius gently. “Stop interrupting me, for Merlin’s sake. Remus, the thing is, since we found out about your… uh… furry little problem, we’ve wanted to do something to help.”

“There’s no cure,” Remus cut in quickly, his face showing apprehension.

“No, we know that,” James said, waving his hand dismissively. “But we thought there might be something we could do to help you stop hurting yourself.”

“We discovered that normal werewolves don’t hurt themselves,” Peter interjected eagerly, “So we—”

“Normal?!” Remus said, alarmed.

“Not normal,” Sirius kicked Peter lightly, “Others. Others like you. Who aren’t locked up during the moon.”

“Right…”

“So you’re probably hurting yourself because you’re trapped and frustrated.”

“Well… yeah, I knew that,” Remus said, drawing his knees up to his chest and inching back slightly. James’s heart ached at the sight of his friend shrinking into himself. He wanted to offer comfort but settled for placing a gentle hand on Remus’s knee.

“But we thought if you had company—”

“Not human company,” James explained hastily, “Everything we’ve read says that if you even get near a human, they’re in serious danger.”

“But animals!” Sirius exclaimed triumphantly, “Other animals would probably be fine!” His excitement was palpable.

“So what? I need a pet?” Remus asked, sounding incredulous.

James laughed, “Sort of. But we thought… we could be the animals.”

Remus stared at him in disbelief, then shifted his gaze to Sirius and Peter, as if trying to determine if they had all lost their minds.

“You’re going to be animals,” he said flatly.

“Like McGonagall!” Peter explained, finally earning a spark of understanding from Remus.

“Like… but she’s an Animagus! You have to study, train, and get registered. You can’t even start until you’re seventeen—”

“Moony, Moony, Moony,” Sirius tutted, shaking his head, “We’re Marauders. We don’t need to follow all that official mumbo jumbo.”

“Even if you wanted to break the law,” Remus shot James a look that clearly asked for confirmation that this was indeed what they were talking about, “This isn’t a school prank. It’s serious magic—one of the hardest things to master!”

“That’s why we’re telling you now,” Sirius leaned in closer, “I wanted it all to be a surprise, but James pointed out that… well, it is really bloody hard. So the more help we get, the better.”

“You really think you can do it, don’t you?” Remus said, frowning.

“If you help us,” James reassured him earnestly, “We’re the best students in the year, except for Evans. Don’t see why we shouldn’t try.”

“What if it goes wrong?” Remus chewed on his lip, “What if I still… after I transform, what if I can tell you’re not really animals? What if I go for you anyway?”

“We’ll test it,” Sirius insisted, “We’ll test it over and over until we’re sure it’s safe.”

“It’s so risky…”

“I know!” Sirius met Remus’s gaze with unyielding conviction. James had no doubt now—Sirius was absolutely determined to make this work.

“Let me think about it, please?” Remus pleaded with James. “Don’t do anything yet. Just… give me a few days.”

“Okay,” James agreed, “That’s fair.”

“Just think, Moony!” Sirius grinned, ignoring the gravity of the conversation, “Once we’ve done this, there’s nothing we can’t do. We’ll be unstoppable!”

Chapter Text

Friday 21st December 1973

Once given some space to mull it over, Remus eventually came around to the idea. James had known he would. Both of them had that same streak of loyalty—they’d never say no to their friends, even if it meant jumping headfirst into something mad. It was just how they were wired.

Still, James couldn’t ignore the thought that their excitement might be unnerving Remus. He knew their eagerness wasn’t just about the thrill of it being illegal, dangerous, and recklessly brilliant. Part of it was. But mostly, it was for Remus. It was about proving to him—once and for all—that they would do anything for him, no matter the risk.

A few days after they had broached the subject, Remus pulled James aside. He asked to see all the research they had done so far. Without hesitation, James handed him the enormous bundle of parchment they had amassed. It was filled with notes and diagrams, all penned in Sirius’s impressively neat cursive. If only Sirius put that much effort into his essays, James mused, he’d have no chance of staying at the top of the class.

To say they had been thorough would be an understatement. They’d charted full moons for the next decade, at least. They had practically written an entire history of European lycanthropy, down to feeding habits, migration patterns, pack behaviour, and canine communication signals. They’d even listed every single ingredient they would need, including costs and availability. Every ritual was meticulously transcribed, step by step, with incantations spelt out phonetically. There were timelines, suggested locations for certain stages of the process—everything painstakingly detailed.

“Blimey,” Remus breathed when he had finished reading. “You did all this…”

“It was mostly Sirius,” James admitted with a grin. “Actually, basically all of it was Sirius. He did most of it over the summer holidays when he was bored. A real labour of love.”

When Remus met his gaze, James was struck by the mix of astonishment and gratitude on his friend’s face. His eyes, usually so guarded, had softened, a glimmer of vulnerability breaking through. A small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and James noticed a hint of unshed tears in those amber eyes. It was rare for Remus to show such emotion, and it made James feel fiercely protective. He wanted to shield Remus from every hardship, to be there for him in every way possible. Without thinking, he wrapped his arm around Remus’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

It was agreed that they would begin the work in earnest over the Christmas holidays when they would all be away from Hogwarts. Remus had secured permission from his matron, McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey to spend the break with James, and Peter was just up the road, as usual. Sirius, on the other hand, was in a foul mood as the term drew to a close—until he received a very short note during breakfast one morning:

To Master S. O. Black III,

You will not be required at the family home this winter break. Do as you please.

Signed,

Orion Black.

“Yes!” James whooped, almost knocking over his porridge in his excitement. “At this rate, we might even get you for the summer too!”

“What about Regulus?” Remus asked quietly, his eyes darkening with concern. James’s smile faltered, his thoughts immediately drifting to the younger Black brother.

“Oh, little Prince Reg is going home for Christmas,” Sirius replied, shoving the note into his pocket with a careless air. “It’s just me they’ve disinvited. Good. Perfect. Excellent. They don’t care; I don’t care.”

James knew Sirius hadn’t spoken to his brother for weeks. There was no way he actually knew what Regulus was planning to do for the break. Sirius pretended not to care, but James saw straight through him, and in a way, he was beginning to see through Regulus too. The Black brothers were similar in that way—they wore their hearts on their sleeves, no matter how much they tried to hide it. Somehow, knowing this made James feel even worse for Regulus. Sirius would get to come to James’s place for Christmas, while Regulus would be stuck alone in that house. Because, deep down, James knew Regulus was the only one who truly understood what that felt like.

It wasn’t until they were packing that Sirius finally started to cheer up. As James neatly folded his clothes and packed them into his trunk, he noticed Sirius pulling Remus aside. Their heads were bent together in quiet conversation, Sirius’s face serious and Remus wearing a small, amused smile. Whatever they were discussing seemed important, but James decided not to interrupt.

Turning his attention to Peter, who was rummaging through his trunk with a furrowed brow, James approached with a grin. “Need a hand, Pete?”

Peter looked up, relief washing over his features at the offer. “Yeah, thanks, James.”

They worked together in comfortable silence, folding clothes and organising belongings. As James carried Peter’s books across the room and placed them neatly in his friend’s trunk, he noticed Peter sitting on his bed, nervously fiddling with a small package.

“Hey, Pete,” James said, sitting down beside him. “I’ve got all your books packed. Anything else you need?”

Peter looked up, a mix of excitement and anxiety on his face. “Oh, just this,” he replied, glancing at the package in his hands. “Just need to wrap it first.”

James arched an eyebrow, a teasing grin playing on his lips. “Presents, eh? For who?”

Peter’s cheeks flushed as he held up the package. “For Remus and Sirius,” he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “I just hope they like them.”

Intrigued, James carefully unwrapped the package, revealing two beautifully crafted bookmarks, each adorned with a small charm—a moon and a star—that glinted in the light. “Wow, Pete,” James exclaimed, genuinely impressed. “These are brilliant! You made these yourself?”

Peter nodded, his expression hopeful. “Yeah, I thought they could use them for all the books they’re always reading,” he explained, pride creeping into his voice. “Do you think they’ll like them?”

James grinned, clapping Peter on the back. “Are you kidding? They’ll love them!” he said enthusiastically. “You put so much thought and effort into these, Pete. Trust me, they’ll be thrilled.”

Peter’s shoulders relaxed a bit, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, James,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “I just… I want them to know how much they mean to me.”

James felt a warm rush of affection for Peter. For all his nerves and uncertainties, Peter had the biggest heart of them all. Wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders, James gave him a tight squeeze. “They know, Pete,” he said softly. “And so do I.”

* * *

Saturday 22nd December 1973

Unlike the previous year, the full moon fell at the beginning of the month, which meant all four Marauders could board the Hogwarts Express with the rest of the student body. Mary and Marlene joined them in their carriage, which made Sirius look slightly uncomfortable—odd, James thought, given how much Sirius usually enjoyed attention from girls. Shouldn't he be over the moon about getting so much of it?

“Did you get your essay back from Ferox?” Marlene asked Remus, a deep crease forming between her brows. “I barely scraped an ‘Acceptable,’ and Mum’s going to have a fit if I don’t improve this year.”

“Yeah, I did okay…” Remus mumbled, glancing away. James raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that Remus hadn’t received anything less than ‘Outstanding’ on any of his Care of Magical Creatures essays. They teased him about it all the time, but Remus always just shrugged it off, never one to brag. James admired that about him—Remus was so different from himself and Sirius in that way, always humble, never trying to put himself above anyone else.

“We’ll start up the study club again after Christmas, yeah?” Mary added, “Lily’s up for it too. Don’t worry, Marls, you’ll be fine.”

“Sounds good,” Remus nodded, clearly relieved the conversation had shifted away from his grades. James couldn’t help but smile to himself—Remus had a way of downplaying his achievements that was both endearing and baffling, especially to someone as naturally boastful as James.

“Moony’s joined a club without us!” Sirius wailed dramatically, flopping onto James’s shoulder in mock despair.

“He’s all grown up now,” James said, patting Sirius’s back in exaggerated sympathy. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

“Piss off,” Remus grinned, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, you’ve got Slug Club for posh twats like you.”

“You can study with us if you want, Sirius,” Mary said, batting her lashes and leaning in a bit closer. Sirius blinked, fumbling awkwardly with the fabric of his trousers. James watched in amusement—Sirius, usually so confident, was floundering. A pretty girl who clearly fancied him was sitting right there, and he was acting like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Was that how you were supposed to play it? Surely Sirius knew best when it came to girls.

When they finally pulled into King’s Cross, James felt a thrill of excitement at seeing his parents waiting to collect them. But he also noticed the look in Sirius’s deep blue eyes as he glanced out the window—a flash of fear, raw and unguarded. James had a good guess about what it was. What if Sirius’s parents showed up to drag him away, despite everything? Over his dead body, James thought fiercely. They’d have to get through him first.

By now, James had developed a sixth sense for when Sirius needed a bit of support. He didn’t say anything, just took his time gathering his things, making sure they were some of the last to leave the train. As they stepped onto the platform, half the families had already cleared out. Sirius’s parents were nowhere to be seen—nor was Regulus. They’d left without him.

As they made their way towards his parents, James looped his arms through those of his two best friends—Sirius on one side, to comfort him about his family, and Remus on the other, to ease the panic that had flared in his amber eyes when he learned they were going to Apparate home.

“Hold my arm, dear,” James's mum said kindly to Remus, offering him a reassuring smile. “Close your eyes—it’ll be over in a moment.”

Remus obeyed, scrunching his eyes shut, and then they were gone.

James grabbed onto his dad’s arm, the two of them exchanging identical grins as the platform disappeared around them.

He’d gotten better at side-alonging over the years, only stumbling slightly as they arrived in front of the house. Remus was leaning on the low front gate, looking a bit shaken. James strutted over with a grin, ruffling his friend’s hair fondly.

Once they were all there, James's mum ushered them into the house, sending their trunks flying up the stairs to their respective bedrooms, boiling a kettle, and slicing some homemade Madeira cake all in what felt like a matter of seconds. As James sat at the big wooden kitchen table, chattering away with Sirius about the term so far, and Remus eating cake and sipping a huge mug of tea next to them, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Two whole weeks of this—absolute bliss.

To the boys’ dismay, there had been no snow that winter. Instead, the sky outside was a wash of dark, grey storm clouds, pouring torrents of rain down onto the earth. As the sky grew darker, the storm thickened, the clouds growing heavier and angrier until they were spitting lightning and hailstones against the windowpanes. Rather than brave the outdoors, the boys sat in the living room under the Christmas tree, playing games and toasting the occasional teacake on the fire. James was playing Gobstones with Sirius while Remus settled into a book next to them. He noticed that Sirius was jumpy, constantly casting nervous glances toward the hallway. Without thinking, James reached over and gave his friend’s neck a gentle squeeze, offering silent reassurance as he listened to his mother reviewing her lists for the upcoming celebrations.

“We’ve got a few more people coming this year,” she told them, scanning the hovering sheets of parchment. “Some friends from the old days, and some newer acquaintances. Just about enough room for all of you!” James felt Sirius relax under his touch, and when he looked over, Sirius was smiling again, the tension easing from his shoulders.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Sirius sat bolt upright as if he’d been struck by lightning, his wide eyes darting to James’s mum. Instinctively, James grabbed onto Sirius’s arm, squeezing tight—no one was going to take him away, not if James had anything to say about it. He’d fight them off if he had to. But as much as he wanted to say it out loud, to reassure Sirius, something held him back—maybe a fear that, if he promised, he might not be able to keep that vow.

James's mum abandoned her hovering lists to answer the door, letting in a cold breeze. All three boys sat silently in the living room, listening intently. For a moment, James’s heart raced, fear clawing at his chest at the thought of Sirius leaving. He needed him here. They needed him here.

It was a woman’s voice they heard, but it was higher and younger than Walburga Black’s, and she sounded as though she’d been crying. James's mum’s voice was soothing in response, calm and steady.

“Boys!” she called from the hallway. Sirius stood up robotically, following Remus and James as they made their way to the kitchen. James held onto Sirius’s hand tightly, not letting go.

His mum stood in the kitchen doorway with a young woman behind her, long blonde hair curtaining her face, her head in her hands.

“What’s up, Mum?” James asked, craning his neck to get a better look.

“It’s getting late—you’d all better head to bed. Philly’s staying the night, and I’m afraid we’ve no room left. Sirius, would you mind staying with James tonight, dear?”

“We can all share,” James offered generously, “Everyone else is arriving tomorrow anyway, might as well just bunk up together.”

His mum nodded and summoned the house-elf, Gully.

James’s bedroom was just as he’d left it—huge and spacious, the walls plastered with Gryffindor banners and Quidditch posters. Every broom he’d ever owned was mounted on the wall, and his shelves were packed with wizard children’s books and old toys he wasn’t ready to part with just yet. Chief among these was a little knight figurine, depicting Godric Gryffindor himself, marching back and forth along the edge of the bookcase.

Sirius flopped down on James’s bed, which was hung with red velvet drapes that were currently pulled back—similar to their dorm at Hogwarts. Gully had set up two single beds for Sirius and Remus, but James already knew Sirius wasn’t going to use his.

“Who was that?” Remus asked as they all sat on James’s bed together in their pyjamas.

“Philomena,” James explained, “Pete’s sister.”

“What’s she doing here?”

“I think she’s been arguing with Pete’s folks—they don’t like her going to Muggle university and,” he lowered his voice, “Dad says she’s got a Muggle boyfriend.”

“Really?!” Sirius’s eyes widened in awe. Remus remained silent, but James hoped he didn’t take offence—James himself saw nothing wrong with it.

“Yeah, and you know what Mum’s like,” James nudged Sirius’s arm, a smirk playing on his lips. “She loves taking in strays.”

* * *

Christmas Eve, 1973

Philomena was at breakfast the next morning, and to James’s surprise, she ended up staying the whole of Christmas. At first, she was quiet, sitting there pale and red-eyed, just staring off into space. James found the whole situation a bit ridiculous, to be honest. The idea that dating a Muggle could be considered such a scandal, even enough to disown your own kid, was completely beyond him. But then again, he reminded himself, most wizards didn’t think like his family did.

To be fair, James didn’t know exactly what had happened with Philomena—how serious her situation really was. He thought it would be rude to pry. All he knew was what Peter had told him: Philomena had always been the golden child, the goody-two-shoes at Hogwarts, the one who did everything right. Her parents had probably already picked out the pure-blood bloke they wanted her to marry. So, when she broke it off with him, left home, and decided to go to a Muggle university, it must’ve sent them into a proper tailspin. At first, they thought it was just a phase, some kind of teenage rebellion that would blow over. But three years had passed, and now with everything that was going on, they were more worried than ever about her ties to Muggles.

James, who wasn’t exactly the subtle type, decided to go full-on chivalrous. He offered her tea, pulled out her chair, and practically bent over backwards to help with anything she might need. That is, until Sirius started giving him grief for it, suggesting that he was only being so nice because Philomena was, in his words, “fit as hell.”

“Bloody hell, Potter, she’s just a girl,” Sirius drawled, lounging back in his chair like he was above it all.

“I’m being nice,” James frowned. “Nothing wrong with being nice to my mate’s sister.”

Sirius smirked, always ready with a comeback. “What would Evans say?” he asked, eyes glinting with mischief.

James could feel his face heating up, the mention of Lily always getting to him. He shot Sirius a dirty look, but before he could fire back, Remus chimed in from where he was sprawled on his camp bed.

“She’d be glad someone’s taken his mind off her for five minutes,” Remus said with a smirk, not even looking up from his book.

James huffed and turned back to Sirius. “You can talk, Black,” he retorted, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s going on between you and Mary?”

Sirius put on an innocent face, but James wasn’t buying it. “MacDonald? Dunno what you’re on about.”

“Oh, come on,” James groaned, not about to let it drop. “Tell us! Have you snogged her or what?”

Remus, who had been reading, suddenly dropped his book with a thud, his eyes flicking to Sirius with interest. James shot Sirius a triumphant look, certain he’d cracked the case. Sirius, for his part, just gave a sly smile.

“No,” Sirius said, and James felt a pang of relief mixed with something else. “But I did kiss her on the cheek.”

James tried not to let his disappointment show. Sirius had kissed a girl, even if it was just on the cheek, and James… well, he hadn’t even come close to that yet. He forced a grin and tossed a pillow at Sirius.

“Ohhh, how scandalous, Black!” he teased.

Sirius lobbed the pillow right back, and before they knew it, they were wrestling around like a couple of idiots, laughing until their sides hurt.

Later that night, as the room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, James found himself lying in bed, his mind swirling with a mix of emotions. He couldn’t shake the feelings of confusion, jealousy, and anxiety that had settled in the pit of his stomach since Sirius had mentioned Mary. 

Sirius was always so effortlessly charming, so confident in a way that made James feel clumsy and awkward by comparison. It wasn’t just about Sirius and Mary, though—James was starting to feel like he might never find someone who would see past his flaws and love him for who he truly was. He hadn’t even properly hugged a girl, let alone kissed one.

The silence of the room was broken when Remus stirred in his bed, mumbling something about needing water. James watched him go, feeling a pang of envy for his friend’s calm demeanour. Remus always seemed so composed, so at ease with himself.

With a sigh, James turned to Sirius, who was lying beside him in the darkness. “Hey, Sirius,” he began tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius turned his head slightly, the faint moonlight reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah, mate?” he replied, his voice quiet.

James hesitated, unsure how to voice the thoughts that had been swirling in his head all night. “How… how did you do it?” he asked finally, the words spilling out in a rush. “How did you kiss Mary?”

Sirius’s expression softened for a moment, and James thought he saw a flicker of understanding in his friend’s eyes. But then Sirius shrugged, his demeanour becoming more guarded. “It’s not a big deal, James,” he said casually, as if the kiss meant nothing. “Just a spur-of-the-moment thing, really.”

James felt a surge of frustration. He needed more than that—some kind of validation that he wasn’t the only one feeling lost and confused. But Sirius’s nonchalant attitude only made James feel more isolated.

“Yeah, but… I mean, how did it feel?” James pressed, his voice tinged with desperation.

Sirius looked away, his jaw tightening slightly. “I don’t know, James,” he said quietly, his tone distant. “It didn’t really feel like anything special.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken truths and unspoken fears. James sighed, feeling more lost than ever. 

Without another word, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m gonna get some air,” he muttered, making his way towards the balcony.

Standing alone on the balcony, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the storm in his head. He gazed out at the stars, trying to clear his mind.

But his solitude didn’t last long. The balcony door creaked open behind him, and James turned to see Philomena stepping out, her face lit up with a smile. 

“Hey, Philly,” James greeted her, trying to muster a smile. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

Philomena’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, you know, just a feeling,” she replied cryptically, her tone playful.

James raised an eyebrow. “A feeling about what?” he pressed, curious.

Philomena shrugged, still smiling. “Just… everything. I have a feeling everything’s going to turn out alright,” she said mysteriously.

Her excitement faded a bit, and she looked at James with concern. “And what about you, James? Why are you out here all alone, looking so gloomy?”

James hesitated. “Oh, you know, just… thinking,” he replied vaguely, avoiding her gaze.

Philomena frowned. “Is it because of me?” she asked softly.

James blinked in surprise. “What? No, of course not,” he replied quickly. “Why would you think that?”

Philomena smiled gently, placing a hand on his arm. “Because I’ve noticed how sweet and kind you’ve been during my visit. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?” she asked, her tone light but probing.

James felt his cheeks heat up. “What? No, no, of course not,” he stammered. “I mean, you’re great and all, but…” He trailed off, realising how awkward he must sound.

Philomena chuckled softly, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh, James, you’re adorable,” she teased gently. “But I have a boyfriend, and I think I’m a bit too old for you.”

Relief flooded through James. “Yeah, no worries,” he replied quickly. “I definitely don’t feel anything like that at all.”

Philomena smiled fondly. “You know, James,” she began, her voice softening, “I’ve known you for ages. And for the longest time, I just saw you as my little brother’s loud and obnoxious best friend.”

James chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, I suppose I can be a bit much sometimes,” he admitted.

Philomena shook her head. “But these past few days, I’ve seen a different side of you. You’ve got a good heart, James. And one day, a girl will see that, and she’ll love you for who you really are.”

James felt a lump in his throat at her words. “Thanks, Philly,” he said quietly, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “That means a lot.”

Before he could say anything else, Philomena leaned in and kissed his cheek. James felt his heart skip a beat, his cheeks flushing red.

Philomena pulled back, her smile bright. “Goodnight, James,” she said cheerfully, giving him a playful wink before heading back inside. 

James stood there, stunned, his hand rising to touch the spot where her lips had brushed his cheek.

Chapter Text

Christmas Day, 1973

James couldn't shake the warmth that had spread through him after his late-night chat with Philomena. Her kind words had hit him right where it hurt, and in a good way. Maybe he wasn't just the loud, cocky prat he sometimes felt like he was. Maybe there was more to him, something worth sticking around for.

But as much as her words lifted him, they also left him feeling a bit... hollow. Like something was missing. He felt this odd tug in his chest, a sort of longing he didn't quite know what to do with. Philomena had made him think about what it would be like to have someone look at him and see past all the bravado, the messy hair, and the cheeky grin—to really see him, flaws and all, and love him anyway. But that thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. What if no one ever did? What if all people ever saw was the reckless, loudmouth James Potter?

He tried to shake it off, but the feeling clung to him like the chill of the morning air. Luckily, there wasn’t any more talk about girls the next day. The Marauders were too busy tearing into their Christmas presents to bother with anything else. The living room looked like a war zone of wrapping paper, bows, and boxes. His parents had really outdone themselves this year, and even Philomena looked a bit perkier when she saw presents under the tree with her name on them. Though her eyes still had that misty look, like she was somewhere far away in her mind.

James’s mum was over the moon with the brooch Sirius had given her, calling him a “dear boy,” and James couldn't help but feel a bit smug that he was still her “foolish boy.” His parents spoiled all three of them rotten. James got a brand new broom—latest model, of course. Remus got a proper wizard chess set, and Sirius was given a set of enchanted quills, with strict instructions from James’s parents that he should write to them anytime and treat James’s owl as his own.

“He already does, Mum, believe me,” James said through a mouthful of biscuits, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs from Sirius. James just laughed, not really bothered. It was good to see Sirius in such high spirits.

But by breakfast, Sirius was looking a bit glum, even though everyone else was tucking into smoked salmon and scrambled eggs like they hadn’t eaten in a week.

“S’up wif yoo?” James asked, his words muffled by a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Sirius toyed with his fork, barely touching his food. “Nothing from Andromeda,” he said quietly, looking down at his plate. “I didn’t expect presents or anything, now that she’s got the baby and all, but I thought maybe a card… I sent her one.”

James swallowed, feeling a pang of sympathy for his best mate. He placed a comforting hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “Owl might just be flying late—post’s all over the place this time of year.”

Sirius managed a small smile, and James squeezed his shoulder a bit tighter, silently praying he was right. Andromeda was one of the few family members Sirius had left who actually cared about him. He needed her, more than he’d ever admit.

As soon as breakfast was done, James practically dragged Sirius and Remus outside, eager to test out his new broom. Sirius had brought his own, and James’s dad suggested Remus take James’s old one.

“Yeah, have it if you want, Moony!” James nodded enthusiastically. “To keep!”

“Thanks…” Remus said, a bit hesitantly. He accepted the broom, though, and James couldn’t help but wonder why he looked so unsure. Maybe he was worried about getting in trouble for having it—he could always tell his matron it was just for sweeping.

They spent the rest of the afternoon flying through the crisp winter air. Well, Sirius and James flew, zipping around with reckless abandon, while Remus hovered just a few inches above the ground, nose buried in a book. Eventually, Sirius and James made a game of seeing who could break Moony’s concentration first, darting past him with dramatic dives and loops. Remus ignored them like a champ, and James had to give him credit—it wasn’t easy to tune out two idiots like them, but Remus had had years of practice.

They were finally called in by Gully, the house-elf, who looked particularly festive in a tea towel decorated with holly. It was nearly lunchtime, and the house smelled divine—roast beef with all the trimmings.

“Upstairs, washed and changed, the lot of you,” his mum ordered, shaking a wooden spoon at them. “Gully’s set your things out.”

James dashed upstairs, washing up and throwing on his best clothes. He thundered back down, leaping the last few steps just because he could, and headed straight for the kitchen, leaving Sirius and Remus trailing behind. He’d just dodged a playful smack from his mum when a loud CRACK sounded from outside.

James froze, his heart pounding in his chest. For a split second, he was ready to run and grab Sirius, to hide him away before whoever it was could take him. But his mum gave him a reassuring smile, calming his nerves a bit.

The doorbell rang, and James stood there, rooted to the spot, still unsure of what to do. What if it was Mrs. Black, coming to drag Sirius back to that awful house? He couldn’t let that happen. But his mum gently pushed him forward, and if there was anyone in the world James trusted, it was her.

Remus and Sirius had just reached the bottom of the stairs as James yanked the door open. Standing in the doorway was a young couple— a bloke with a mop of curly hair and a stocky build, and a tall, slender woman cradling a bundle in her arms. As they stepped into the light, James grabbed Sirius’s wrist, heart leaping into his throat. The woman was a dead ringer for Sirius’s cousin Bellatrix.

“No!” Sirius gasped, but his face broke into a massive grin. “Andromeda!”

The woman grinned back, and James’s panic melted away. It wasn’t Bellatrix—it was Andromeda. Her hair was just as wild and curly, but a much softer brown.

She passed the baby to her husband and pulled Sirius into a bone-crushing hug, squeezing him so tight James wondered if he could breathe. But Sirius looked happier than James had seen him in ages.

“A good surprise, then?” Euphemia asked, as Sirius shook Ted’s hand and carefully patted the baby’s head.

“You did this?!” Sirius looked at Euphemia like she’d hung the moon.

“Effie was kind enough to invite us,” Ted said in a pleasant baritone, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Pleased to meet you, Sirius. Always nice to meet someone in Dromeda’s family.”

“Come in, come in!” Euphemia ushered everyone inside, leading them toward the dining room. James grabbed Remus’s hand, pulling him along as they followed the others, his heart lighter than it had been in days.

* * *

Andromeda was remarkably like Sirius, though with a few notable differences. She was older, her hair longer, and there were fine lines at the corners of her eyes that spoke of years of laughter and worry. But the similarities were striking: her laugh was just as boisterous, her sense of humour just as sharp, and her warmth was a welcome contrast to the icy demeanour of her sisters. Ted, her husband, seemed to orbit around her like a planet, moving in sync with her every gesture. Whenever Andromeda smiled at him, Ted’s expression was one of sheer bliss, as though he were basking in sunlight. James had rarely seen such a display of love—except, of course, for his own parents. It stirred something in him, a wistful yearning for a love that felt this deep and genuine.

Then there was little Dora, the strangest baby James had ever seen—though, to be fair, he hadn’t met many babies. She was as cheerful as her mother, sporting a gummy grin that was positively infectious. Her wisps of hair changed colours from purple to green to blue with each passing moment, making her look like a little rainbow sprite. As he watched her, James realised with a start how much he’d love to be a dad someday. There was something profoundly moving about it.

Dinner was a lively affair, with Andromeda and her family blending seamlessly with the Potters and a few other old friends. The table was alive with laughter and chatter, and James was thrilled to have Sirius and Remus there with him to share in the merriment.

“To friends, old and new!” Fleamont toasted, his glass wobbling slightly from a bit too much holiday cheer.

“To the Potters!” Andromeda responded, lifting her glass with a grin. “Protectors of outcasts and defenders of black sheep everywhere!”

Everyone laughed and clinked glasses.

“I think I must be the biggest outcast,” Sirius declared, with his usual dramatic flair. “I’m a Gryffindor, after all.”

“To Gryffindor!” Fleamont called out from the other end of the table. The Gryffindors raised their glasses, and Andromeda narrowed her eyes at Sirius.

“Think so, little cousin? Try marrying a non-relative.”

“I’ll have to,” Sirius shot back, as Gully began clearing the plates and James’s mum fetched the Christmas pudding. “After Cissy’s wedding, there aren’t any Black women left.”

Andromeda grinned mischievously. “There’s Dora.”

“Excuse me,” Ted interjected, protectively covering Dora’s ears, “Could we please get her through her first Christmas before arranging any betrothals?”

“I’m teasing,” Andromeda said with a soft kiss on Ted’s cheek and then on Dora’s head. “Dora can marry anyone she likes when she’s old enough, and I can say with absolute certainty that it won’t be anyone at this table.”

Laughter filled the room once more. James noticed Remus glancing over at Darius Barebone with a look of curiosity. Darius, red-faced from the firewhisky he’d been steadily drinking, was having a grand time.

Once the pudding was finished—complete with crackers, terrible jokes, and the usual festive chaos—the party migrated to the living room. The ladies went upstairs to change into their party dresses while James’s dad settled into his chair and pulled out his pipe. Ted followed Andromeda upstairs to put Dora down for a nap, leaving the three Marauders to lounge on the carpet. They kicked off a game of Snap, which was soon interrupted when Darius and his dad decided that everyone should join in a round of charades—practically impossible to argue with Fleamont once he’d made up his mind.

As the evening progressed, more guests arrived, and the house soon buzzed with music, laughter, and the pleasant murmur of conversation. Andromeda and Sirius took over the role of DJs, rifling through their combined record collections and alternating between blasting Slade’s “Merry Xmas Everybody” and Wizzard’s “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday.”

“When the snowman brings the snow,” the record crooned, “Well he just might like to know, he’s put a great big smile on somebody’s face…”

“They’re actually called wizard, though,” Sirius kept insisting earnestly, “And just listen to it…”

A short distance away, Philomena had stopped moping and was showing James how to twist. He felt vaguely dazed and extraordinarily pleased—though, while James could glide gracefully on a broomstick, he was decidedly all left feet on solid ground. After a few clumsy attempts, Philomena gave up on teaching him any serious dance moves and they drifted over to the record player. As the chorus of the song boomed out, the four of them sang at the top of their lungs:

“Weeeell I wish it could be Christmas every daaa-aay!”

When the kids start singing and the band begins to plaa-aay…”

“Oooooh I wish it could be Christmas every day,” they bellowed in unison. “So let the BELLS ring OUT for CHRISTmaaaaaas!”

James threw his arm around Sirius’s shoulder as the song ended, trying to catch those familiar deep blue eyes. But Sirius’s gaze was darting around the room, as though searching for someone—or something—else. Before James could redirect his attention, Philomena tugged him back into another round of dancing.

Philomena was a natural dancer, her movements smooth and fluid. James, on the other hand, was a bit of a mess, but it only made them laugh harder. “Come on, James, you can do it!” she encouraged, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she demonstrated a new move. “Just twist your hips like this.”

James attempted to mimic her, his efforts resulting in an amusing mix of flailing limbs and uncoordinated steps. “Maybe dancing isn’t your forte,” Philomena teased, nudging him with her elbow.

But as they danced, Philomena’s playful demeanour shifted. Her expression grew more serious, and she stopped abruptly, resting her hand on James’s arm. There was a gravity to her gaze that took him by surprise.

“James, promise me something,” she said, her voice soft but urgent. “Promise me you’ll always look out for Peter. That you’ll be there for him, no matter what.”

James frowned, caught off guard by her sudden seriousness. “Of course, Philly,” he replied without hesitation. “But why the sudden concern?”

Philomena’s eyes softened, a hint of sadness lingering there. “I can’t explain it all now,” she said cryptically. “But Peter needs someone like you. He’s fragile, you see. He needs to feel included and cared for.”

James felt a pang of concern. Her words raced through his mind, leaving him with more questions than answers. But before he could ask anything more, Philomena placed a hand on his cheek, her touch both gentle and firm.

“Promise me, James,” she urged, her voice barely a whisper.

James nodded solemnly, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. “I promise,” he said earnestly. “I’ll always be there for Peter, no matter what.”

Philomena’s smile returned, though it was tinged with sadness. “Thank you, James,” she said softly, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I know I can count on you.”

Soon enough, the festive atmosphere reasserted itself. The twinkling lights, the happy chatter, and the sheer vibrancy of Christmas at the Potters made it impossible to stay gloomy for long. Sirius and Andromeda led the room in a final, jubilant chorus:

“So here it iiiiiiiis, Merry Christmas,

Everybody’s having fuuuuun!

Loo-ook to the future now,

It’s only just begun!”

Chapter Text

Saturday 5th January 1974

Sheets of rain lashed against the Hogwarts Express like a relentless volley of enemy arrows, cloaking the usually verdant hillsides in a translucent veil of mist and drizzle. The sky was a foreboding shade of grey, mirroring the mood inside the carriage.

“Feels rubbish going back to school, doesn’t it?” Sirius muttered from his corner of the compartment, his usual bravado replaced with a distinct sulk. The mood was decidedly subdued; his friends were at a loss as to how to address his bleak outlook.

James glanced over at Peter, who was staring at Sirius as though he’d just grown another head. Sirius, oblivious to the effect of his mood, continued to scowl out the window. Remus sighed and tried to break the gloom. “How was your Christmas, Pete?”

“Okay,” Peter replied, his voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. “Thanks for the sweets.”

“Seen my broom?” James asked, trying to inject a bit of cheer into the carriage. The distraction worked to a degree—Peter’s face brightened as he pulled the broom down from the luggage rack, his admiration evident. Sirius, however, remained fixed on the rainy landscape, seemingly impervious to the cheer around him.

As James observed Peter’s face light up with admiration for the broom, a pang of concern tugged at his heart. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he bore a certain responsibility towards his friend, a duty to protect and support him just as Philomena had asked. Their friendship was long-standing, woven with countless adventures and shared secrets. Peter, always the quiet one, had often found himself in the background, overshadowed by James’s larger-than-life personality. Yet James knew that beneath Peter’s timid exterior was a heart of gold—kind, loyal, and deserving of both protection and affection.

With a determined smile, James leaned closer to Peter, his gaze softening. “It’s a beauty, isn’t it?” he whispered warmly, nudging him playfully. “We’ll have to go for a fly together once we’re back at Hogwarts, yeah?”

Peter’s face lit up at the suggestion, his excitement palpable. James reached out and gave his friend’s neck a gentle squeeze. It was up to him to be the beacon of light in Peter’s life, to remind him that he was valued and loved no matter what. Watching Peter’s joy made James silently vow to always be there for his friend, come what may.

Just then, a quiet knock on their carriage door drew James’s attention away from Peter. Marlene McKinnon peeked in, her eyes flitting nervously between them before settling on the floor.

“Hiya, McKinnon,” James greeted with a grin. “Evans with you?”

“Um… no.” Her voice was unusually high, trembling with nerves. She fiddled with her hair, a telltale sign of her anxiety. “Sirius, can I talk to you?”

“Me?” Sirius looked up, puzzled. “Er… what is it?”

“Mary, um… Mary asked me to tell you something.”

“Tell me what?”

“She’s… I don’t think I was supposed to say it in front of everyone.”

“Er… okay…” Sirius got up, following Marlene out into the corridor. The remaining three exchanged intrigued glances. James couldn’t help but wonder—did Marlene fancy Sirius after all? But hadn’t she made a point of saying otherwise?

Moments later, a bewildered-looking Sirius re-entered the compartment alone.

“Well?” James asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Mary’s got a boyfriend, apparently,” Sirius said, scratching his head in confusion.

“You mean… you got dumped?” James asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“I dunno.” Sirius plopped back down, still looking dazed. “Was I even going out with her?”

“Well, apparently, she thought you were.”

“Why don’t girls just say what they mean?” Sirius asked, running his hand through his hair in an exaggerated imitation of James, who nodded sympathetically.

“Girls are a nightmare,” James said solemnly. He leaned his head on Remus’s shoulder, closing his eyes as a sense of relief washed over him. Even if he didn’t fancy Marlene himself, he was rather glad she had managed to avoid the entanglements of dating Sirius Black. 

* * *

Saturday 6th January 1974

James later discovered that Mary had started seeing a Muggle boy she knew from home.

Sirius, however, seemed unable to let it go. The blue-eyed boy was still flummoxed by the whole thing, not even realising they had been dating. James had always thought Sirius was the master of romantic entanglements, but perhaps his friend wasn't as clued-up as he’d initially believed. James felt a swell of pride at being able to offer advice, as Sirius wanted to discuss the matter, comparing his own muddled experience with Mary to the snippets of gossip James had picked up from the Quidditch team.

“Seems it mostly comes down to snogging,” James whispered, assuming an air of expertise. They’d cast a Silencing Charm around the bed—Remus and Peter were already asleep—but old habits die hard, and they were still speaking in low tones.

“What, so once you snog a girl, she’s your girlfriend?” Sirius asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Well—no. I dunno. They didn’t say exactly. You can snog a girl without going out with her, though. I think.” James desperately hoped that was true, otherwise, he might have inadvertently ended up in a relationship with Peter’s older sister!

Sirius groaned, flopping back onto the mattress with an air of defeat. “I didn’t even snog Mary, so how’m I supposed to know if she dumped me!”

“I mean, it definitely seems like she dumped you, mate,” James said, trying to sound reassuring.

Sirius shot him a look that could only be described as daggers, and James quickly pivoted back to the topic at hand.

“Anyway, I thought you kissed her cheek?”

“Yeah, but that’s not snogging.”

“Suppose not. Wonder if Evans would let me kiss her cheek…”

Sirius snorted. “Fat chance.” James responded by lobbing a pillow at him.

Despite their best efforts, the situation with Mary remained an enigma. Sirius sighed in frustration, lamenting, “Why couldn’t she just tell me if we were going out? It’s like they all speak in some sort of bloody code!”

James nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah… do you think that means Evans—”

“No, Potter!”

By the end of their first week back, James had accepted that some mysteries in life—girls included—would remain unsolved for the time being. Unlike Sirius, who seemed to have had his fill of romantic drama, James was more determined than ever to make an impression on Lily. With Sirius (perhaps) in a (sort of) relationship, James knew he had to step up his game.

The only Marauder who seemed completely at ease around girls was Remus. As promised, he had resumed his study group with Lily, Marlene, and Mary. They spent hours in the library together and would often sit near the Marauders at meals, chatting with Remus about classes. James couldn’t fathom how his friend could be so casual around them when everyone knew that, at any moment, a girl might develop a fancy for you—at least if your name was Sirius Black.

James hated the knot of jealousy that tightened in his stomach whenever Remus spent time with Lily. What if she started to fancy him? What if she realised that Remus was cooler than James? He swallowed his feelings, trusting that Remus wouldn’t hurt him like that. Besides, Remus continued to insist that the girls were just friends and nothing more.

Still, James kept a close watch, honing his observational skills for the future. He scrutinised Remus as he walked with Mary and Marlene to the library or chatted with Lily at lunch, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to decipher the elusive code that girls seemed to use to signal their affections. Remus might think they were just friends, but James couldn’t shake the fear that Lily might fall for those amber eyes.

Other than his newfound determination, everything appeared to be normal with the Marauders. So, it was with great surprise that James heard Remus make a proclamation on the first weekend of the new term.

The three Marauders—James, Sirius, and Peter—were trudging back from detention (they’d enchanted the toilets in the dungeon to spit high-speed jets of water at any student who walked in, mostly aimed at Slytherins but with a few Ravenclaws caught in the crossfire after Potions). When they opened the door to their room, Remus was lying in bed, fully dressed and staring at the ceiling. He sat up as they entered.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began.

“No wonder you needed a lie-down,” Sirius interrupted, earning himself a throw pillow from Remus.

“Piss off, I’m serious.”

“No, I’m Siri—”

James gave Sirius a sharp smack around the head. “Shut up, Black.”

“Thanks.” Remus managed a small smile. “Er… about the whole Animagus thing.”

“Yeah?” Sirius perked up, looking hopeful. “Had an idea? I love Moony ideas!”

“Um… not exactly,” Remus said awkwardly, before his face took on a determined expression. “I… I don’t want to do it.”

James froze. Oh…

“Do what?” Peter asked, clearly confused.

“He doesn’t want us to become Animagi,” James clarified, looking to Remus for confirmation. “Is that right?”

Remus nodded, looking guilty. “I’m really grateful, I am. I just… I don’t think any of you really understand how dangerous it would be. I could hurt you. I could… I could kill you. I’ve got no control over it.”

“But it’s going to work!” Sirius protested. “I did all the research. James, didn’t you show him?”

“Leave it, mate,” James said firmly. “It’s Lupin’s decision.” He began to massage Sirius’s neck soothingly.

“Thanks.” Remus smiled at James. Deep down, James wanted to protest too, but he knew he needed to respect Remus’s wishes to avoid pushing him away. Sirius looked as though he was about to argue again, but James gave him a stern look. We can discuss it later.

Later, after lights out, Sirius crept over to James’s bed. James, expecting him, pulled back the curtain and cast a Silencing Spell. The moment it was up, Sirius spoke.

“We’re still doing it.”

“Sirius—”

“I don’t care. Remus can mope all he wants, but he can’t stop us from becoming Animagi.”

“Black, he’s not trying to stop us,” James said, troubled. “He’s asking us not to. As his friends.”

“Well, as his friend, I’m still going to become an Animagus!”

“Come on, Sirius—he’s obviously thought a lot about this. What if you become an Animagus and he really does end up hurting you? Would you want him to live with that on his conscience?”

“He won’t hurt us.”

“But if he did—”

“I don’t care! He’s already hurting himself. Do you want us to live with that on our conscience? Knowing there’s something we could have done to help him?” Sirius’s fingers were clenched into fists, and James put his hands over them.

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. He felt torn, caught between loyalty to his friends and a deep-seated unease. He understood Sirius’s determination to help Remus, but he couldn’t shake the worry that becoming Animagi could bring more harm than good.

He admired Sirius’s resolve but sensed a dangerous hint of recklessness beneath it. He was caught in a conflict of emotions—wanting to support Sirius and their shared goal while being deeply concerned for Remus’s well-being.

James knew Remus was struggling, that his condition weighed heavily on him. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d be betraying Moony if he didn’t respect his wishes.

As he looked into Sirius’s determined eyes, James felt a pang of guilt. He needed to find a way to support his friend without compromising their principles.

Finally, he whispered, “Look—Lupin’s clearly upset about something. Let’s give it a bit of time. Maybe he’ll change his mind. And if he doesn’t… well, we can talk about it then, alright? Just give him some time first.”

Sirius huffed but, seeing the sincerity in James’s eyes, grudgingly agreed. Remus was prone to bouts of melancholy; he might indeed change his mind. Reluctantly, Sirius agreed to hold off on their Animagus project until they’d given Remus more time. James was relieved, lifting the Silencing Spell and letting Sirius slip back into his bed.

As James lay down, glasses off, drifting towards sleep, he silently hoped he was making the right choice. He knew Moony needed time, but he wasn’t sure how long Sirius could wait. Balancing the needs of a moon and a star wasn’t going to be easy. 

It’s alright, he thought, as he drifted between consciousness and dreams, I’ll make sure everything turns out alright—for both of you. I have to.

Chapter Text

Winter drifted into spring, and as per their usual, the Marauders pulled out all the stops for Remus’s birthday—an unending parade of birthday serenades at every meal, a sizeable cake, and presents aplenty. However, McGonagall was not to be outwitted this year. A prefect was stationed outside their dormitory to thwart any more of the Marauders' infamous midnight fireworks.

Luckily, Remus's birthday fell on a Hogsmeade weekend, which provided the Marauders with a plethora of alternative celebratory options. They spent the better part of the day in the Three Broomsticks, drinking Butterbeer generously supplied by the ever-busy stream of students they had sweet-talked, cajoled, and—on occasion—threatened into joining them for Remus's birthday bash. With every new round, Sirius would leap up and announce,

"A toast to the Birthday Boy!"

This never failed to make Remus blush a shade that could only be described as ‘blazing red’ and ensured that by the end of the afternoon, the entire bar knew exactly who he was. They left to a chorus of cheers, which Remus found horrifically embarrassing, despite the delighted grin he couldn’t seem to shake off.

Though the day had been thoroughly enjoyable, Sirius was clearly frustrated as he headed to bed—or rather, James’s bed. He barely had time to cast the Silencing Spell before he was speaking with that all-too-familiar intensity.

“We’re doing it.”

“What?”

“We’re doing it. It’s been enough time.”

“Oh,” James blinked owlishly, frowning slightly. “Are you sure? I mean, he seemed really happy today. Maybe if we just wait a bit longer—”

“It’s been months!”

James felt a whirlpool of apprehension and uncertainty stirring within him. They’d discussed this plan endlessly before—debating risks, benefits, and ethical quandaries, as well as Remus’s wishes. But now, faced with Sirius’s sudden determination, James couldn’t help but feel a pang of hesitation.

Part of him understood Sirius’s impatience. Months had passed since they first delved into the intricacies of becoming Animagi, and Sirius was chomping at the bit to see some results. But another part of James couldn’t shake the persistent doubts that lurked in the back of his mind.

He remembered the earnest, almost desperate look in Remus’s eyes when he’d pleaded with them to reconsider. Remus had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want them risking their safety for his sake. And yet, here they were, on the precipice of defying his wishes once again.

James wondered if they were truly making the right choice. Was their determination to help Remus worth the potential fallout? Would becoming Animagi really solve their friend’s problems, or merely add to the complications?

“Look,” Sirius huffed, clearly frustrated, “Maybe Moony will change his mind, and maybe he won’t. Either way, I’m doing it. So you can join me if you like, or you can back out, but I’m not waiting any longer. If we’re going to do this, we need all the time we can get.”

James sighed deeply, raking his fingers through his hair. The idea of becoming Animagi while Remus had expressly asked them not to was troubling. But then again, becoming an Animagus was undeniably cool.

“Fine,” he acquiesced, and a self-satisfied smirk spread across Sirius’s face. “Let’s do it.”

“Brilliant! I was thinking we could—”

“Oi, we’re not starting tonight—I’ve got Quidditch in the morning!”

Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically, and James gave him a playful shove.

“We can talk to Pete tomorrow and figure out how to get started then. Deal?”

Sirius groaned theatrically, flopping back onto the mattress. “Deal.”

* * *

Sunday 7th April 1974

After his discussion with Sirius, the Marauders made some progress with their Animagus project, albeit limited. Much of their time was consumed by sourcing the necessary tools and ingredients, and plotting how to kick off their preparations over the summer. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a start. Yet, their efforts seemed trivial compared to what transpired one weekend in April.

James had never crossed paths with Davey Gudgeon before—nor had any of the others, as far as he knew. But that name would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Strangely enough, James wasn’t even present when the incident occurred. It was the day after a full moon, and they were dutifully keeping Remus company in the Hospital Wing, as was their custom. Peter was sprawled on the floor, sorting through his Chocolate Frog cards with a murmured commentary to himself. James was engrossed in marking Sirius’s Divination homework, and though he could hear Sirius’s wand flicking behind him, he was too absorbed in his task to pay much attention, evident from the way his tongue poked out between his teeth in concentration.

Of course, this peaceful scene didn’t last.

“Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey! Help!”

A student burst into the Hospital Wing, wailing hysterically. James and Sirius sprang to their feet, peering out from behind the curtain to see what was amiss. Initially, it seemed Madam Pomfrey was merely trying to console a sobbing girl, her soothing murmurs barely audible. But then the others arrived.

James felt a jolt of shock and horror. His heart hammered, and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. This was unlike anything he had ever seen.

James had grown up in a protected, nearly idyllic environment, shielded from the harsher realities of life. Sure, he’d had his fair share of scrapes and bruises from Quidditch, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of such appalling injuries.

His hands shook as he instinctively reached for his wand, a deep sense of helplessness flooding him. He wanted to do something—anything—to help, but he felt utterly powerless against the scene unfolding before him.

Two older students stumbled in, half-carrying, half-dragging a smaller boy between them. His face was a grotesque parody of itself, features present but raw, red, and grotesquely pulped. And his eyes—his eyes were—

James turned away, a shiver racing through him. Sirius looked like he might lose his breakfast; they exchanged a wordless, horrified glance.

“What is it?” Remus asked, irritation lacing his voice.

Sirius opened his mouth but closed it again. James, too, was at a loss, shaking his head wordlessly. Peter finally looked up from his cards.

“What?”

“An accident… some kid,” James managed, his voice sounding strangled even to him.

“Everyone out!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice cut through the tension, unnaturally loud and commanding. The curtain around Remus’s bed parted, and she poked her head through, looking harried. “Remus, dear, if you’re feeling well enough, it might be best for you to spend the rest of the afternoon in your own bed. Potter, go and fetch Professor Sprout. Tell her we have an injured student.”

James nodded, his mind already racing, and dashed off without a backward glance.

He sprinted through the corridors of Hogwarts, his heart thudding and his thoughts whirling. He had to find Professor Sprout quickly. The image of the injured boy’s mangled face replayed in his mind, driving him with a sense of urgency he had never felt before. He burst into Professor Sprout’s office, his desperation overriding any semblance of decorum.

“Professor Sprout! Professor Sprout!” he gasped, out of breath. “There’s been an accident. Madam Pomfrey needs you right away. It’s one of your students, and he’s… he’s badly hurt.”

Professor Sprout looked up, concern etched on her face. “What happened, Mr. Potter?” she asked, her tone calm but urgent.

James felt frustration welling up inside him as he struggled to articulate the chaos he’d just witnessed. “I—I don’t know,” he stammered, his hands trembling. “There was a student… his face… it was… I don’t know! Madam Pomfrey said to get you, now!”

Professor Sprout’s gaze softened, and she rose from her desk, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, Mr. Potter,” she said gently. “Take a deep breath and tell me exactly what happened.”

But James was beyond calming down. The fear and helplessness gnawed at him, pushing him to the edge of desperation. “No, we don’t have time for questions!” he burst out, his voice cracking with panic. “That kid might be dying, and Madam Pomfrey told me to get you! We need to go, now!”

In his agitation, James accidentally knocked over a potted plant, the ceramic pot shattering with a loud crash. He froze, chest heaving as he stared at the broken shards at his feet.

Professor Sprout’s expression softened further, and she approached him, her voice soothing. “Mr. Potter, it’s alright. You don’t have to handle this alone. This isn’t your responsibility.”

But James couldn’t accept her comfort. His fear of failing to help was overwhelming. “We need to go,” he insisted, brushing off her words. “Now.”

After a brief hesitation, Professor Sprout nodded in agreement. “Lead the way, Mr. Potter,” she said quietly.

Together, they re-entered the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was already at work, her face set in grim determination.

“Poppy, what happened?” Professor Sprout asked, her voice laced with concern.

Madam Pomfrey glanced up, her face lined with worry. “It’s a Hufflepuff boy, Davey Gudgeon,” she said tersely, indicating the injured student on a nearby bed. “He’s in a bad way. I need to stabilise him before we can think about anything else—”

“We need to do something,” James blurted out, his voice tinged with desperation. “We can’t just stand here and—”

But Madam Pomfrey cut him off firmly. “You need to stay back, Mr. Potter,” she said. “This isn’t something you can assist with.”

James bristled at the command, frustration bubbling up. “But I have to do something!” he protested, his voice rising. “He’s a student like me! We can’t just leave him—”

“Mr. Potter, listen to Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Sprout interjected gently, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “We need to trust that she knows what’s best for the patient.”

James was beyond reason. Ignoring Professor Sprout’s attempt to pacify him, he moved forward, desperate to offer any help he could.

“Mr. Potter, wait!” Professor Sprout called after him, but he was already too far gone.

As he approached the injured boy, James’s resolve faltered. The sight of the boy’s disfigured face was enough to stop him in his tracks, his stomach churning with horror and dread.

Madam Pomfrey appeared at his side, guiding him away from the bed with a gentle touch. “It’s alright, Mr. Potter,” she said soothingly, leading him back towards the entrance. “You don’t need to see this. We’ll take care of him.”

James nodded numbly, his mind reeling with shock and guilt. He had wanted to help, but now he felt more helpless than ever.

Outside the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey turned to him, her gaze sympathetic. “You’re a good lad, Mr. Potter,” she said kindly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But sometimes, there are things beyond our control. Your friends need you, especially after Remus’s transformation. That’s where your time and effort are best spent.”

James opened his mouth to argue, but Madam Pomfrey’s gentle tone stopped him. “I know you want to help, but you can’t fix everything, even with your strong will,” she said softly. “You have a pure heart, Mr. Potter, and that’s a rare gift. But you need to focus on what you can do, not what you can’t.”

Reluctantly, James nodded, his shoulders slumping with defeat. He felt a deep disappointment in himself for panicking the way he had. He vowed silently to never let it happen again. He needed to be better, to protect his friends, no matter what. What else was he good for if not that?

* * * 

Gossip about Davey Gudgeon spread like wildfire throughout the school, and within a matter of hours, it seemed impossible to escape the chatter. Sarah Saunders from Ravenclaw reported that she’d seen Gudgeon’s parents storming into Dumbledore’s office, their faces set in grim determination. Meanwhile, Gudgeon’s friends in Hufflepuff recounted their version of the story with increasing dramatic flair, claiming that it had seemed as if Davey would finally reach the trunk of the Whomping Willow, only for the tree to lash out at the last possible moment. Rumours of the damage varied wildly—from tales of a split skull and lost eyes to wild speculations that Gudgeon had died and the school was covering it up.

James was caught off guard when he found that Marlene seemed to be the most affected by the incident. Returning to the common room, he stumbled upon Marlene sitting outside the portrait hole, her usually bright eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks wet with tears.

“Marlene?” James called softly, crouching down beside her. “What’s wrong?”

Marlene looked up at him with a tremulous smile. “Hey, Jamie,” she greeted, her voice shaking. “It’s just… it’s about Davey.”

James frowned, his concern deepening. “What about him?”

Marlene held up a crumpled piece of parchment. “I’m trying to gather signatures for a petition to have the Whomping Willow removed,” she explained, her voice quivering. “After what happened to Davey… it’s just too dangerous.”

James glanced at the parchment, noting the impressive number of signatures already amassed. “Blimey, Marley, you’ve got quite a few names here,” he said, genuinely impressed. “But why are you so upset?”

Marlene averted her gaze, her expression troubled. “Sirius… he refused to sign it,” she admitted softly.

“Marley,” James said gently, “I’ll get the brilliant James Potter’s name on there for you.”

Marlene managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Jamie,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

James grinned. “No problem,” he replied. “I’ll even try to convince Sirius to sign it too. Trust me, I know how to handle Black.”

As James scribbled his signature onto the parchment, Marlene peered over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Merlin, Jamie, your handwriting is atrocious!” she exclaimed with a hint of amusement.

James chuckled, shaking his head as he handed the parchment back to her. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he teased, nudging her playfully. “At least you can read it, right?”

Marlene rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “Barely,” she quipped, before her expression sobered slightly.

James noticed the lingering sadness in Marlene’s eyes. “Hey, Marley,” he said gently, “why are you still so upset? Since when does it matter what Sirius Black thinks?”

Marlene hesitated before speaking, her voice cracking. “There’s… stuff going on at home,” she confessed, her eyes welling up again. “It’s been rough lately.”

“Hey,” James said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “you know you can talk to me, right? Whatever’s going on, I’m here for you.”

Marlene met his gaze, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks, Jamie,” she whispered, leaning into his embrace as he pulled her into a hug.

James held her close. “You’re my friend, Marley,” he whispered. “And I really care about you.”

Marlene’s shoulders shook with silent sobs, but James tightened his hold, offering the comfort she so desperately needed.

After a moment, Marlene pulled back, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “Thank you, Jamie,” she said softly, her voice choking with emotion.

James offered her a reassuring smile, standing up and extending his hand. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get you back inside.”

Despite Dumbledore’s firm prohibition against approaching the Whomping Willow, it was clear that the tree was not going anywhere. The staff and students remained uneasy, and Marlene’s petition—now boasting over four hundred signatures—was a constant reminder of the tree’s dangers. For the next few days, Davey Gudgeon became the focal point of conversations across the castle.

The Marauders made a concerted effort to avoid discussing Gudgeon in front of Remus, who had been in a sullen mood ever since the incident. The boy’s gloom seemed to hang over their dorm like a dark cloud, resisting all attempts at cheer. At the mention of Gudgeon’s name, Remus’s eyes would go flat, his silence growing heavier, his already dark circles deepening until he resembled a sleep-deprived zombie as he trudged to class.

A week after the incident, Professor Sprout confirmed the worst: Davey Gudgeon was now blind and would not be returning to Hogwarts for some time. James had been avoiding Sprout ever since, dreading any conversation about his emotional outburst.

“His parents are taking him to America,” Professor Sprout announced at breakfast, “where advances are being made in ocular Healing Potions. I’m sure Davey and his family appreciate all your well-wishes.”

James felt a sickening churn in his stomach. When Marlene, Lily, Mary, and a few others rose to present their petition, which had grown to over four hundred signatures, Remus joined them. James grabbed his friend’s hand, searching for a sign that this was what Remus wanted. Remus gave a weak nod, and James squeezed his hand before letting him go.

Professor Sprout accepted the petition with a hint of mistiness in her eyes and promised to speak with Dumbledore. To James’s relief, she awarded Marlene ten House points for her efforts.

“They’re not going to get rid of it, though,” Sirius remarked later that evening, as the Marauders lounged in their common room.

“No, I doubt it,” Remus agreed morosely, avoiding eye contact.

“So why did you go up?”

Remus shrugged. “Felt like the right thing to do. I mean, Marlene’s right—the tree’s dangerous. Shouldn’t be at a school.”

“But…” Peter began to protest, only to be cut off by Remus.

“I know,” Remus snapped. “I know, alright?”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty, mate,” James said earnestly. “Gudgeon shouldn’t have been mucking about like that… it’s not your fault—”

“If it’s anyone’s fault,” Remus said darkly, “then it’s mine.”

“That’s nonsense,” Sirius interjected, frustration evident. “You didn’t plan it, did you? This school isn’t exactly safety-conscious. It’s built next to a bloody forest full of creatures more dangerous than a flipping tree. There’s supposed to be a literal monster lying dormant somewhere directly below us, and—not to be funny—have you seen Hagrid?!”

“What’s your point, Black?” Remus sighed heavily, sitting down with a pained expression.

“I don’t know,” Sirius shrugged, irritated. “Shit happens? Don’t blame yourself? Stop moping?”

“Moping?!” Remus growled, his ears turning red. “Bugger off. There’s a kid who can’t see because I’m too dangerous to be at school! Try telling Marlene what I am, I bet she’d get a lot more signatures on THAT petition.”

James winced at the rising tension in the room. He could see the pain etched on Remus’s face, the weight of his words pressing down on him like a physical force. It pained James to see his friend in such torment, especially when there seemed so little he could do to alleviate it.

“You’re not dangerous!”

“You don’t know what I am!”

“You’re our friend,” James said firmly, looking Remus in the eye. It was a bit soppy and dramatic, but James meant it with all his heart. Sitting next to Remus on the bed, he added, “You’re our friend, and that’s what matters, okay?”

Remus glared, but James held his ground, inching closer so their knees touched. “Okay?” he pressed, leaning in until their noses were almost touching. It was a tactic he used on Sirius sometimes to cheer him up. Remus looked unnerved, and finally, he laughed, ducking away.

“Okay! Okay!”

James laughed too, pulling Remus into a tight hug. “Thank goodness! We couldn’t lose you, Moony!” he cried. Suddenly, Sirius and Peter joined in, tumbling onto Remus in a heap of giggles and affection.

“Get off me, you bunch of poofs!”

“Ah, you love us really,” Sirius teased, reaching over to ruffle Remus’s hair.

As James looked at his three best friends tangled together in a very giggly scrum, a wave of warmth washed over him. They were an odd bunch, each with their quirks and flaws, but in that moment, they were perfect in James’s eyes.

Sirius, with his tousled dark hair and mischievous blue eyes, exuded a confidence that James both admired and envied. Despite his occasional recklessness, there was a fierce loyalty in Sirius that James knew he could always rely on.

Peter, with his round face and eager expression, radiated a purity that endeared him to everyone he met. He might not have been the boldest or the most talented, but his unwavering support made him invaluable.

And Remus, with his amber eyes and weary smile, bore a burden that few could truly comprehend. Despite the shadows that seemed to cling to him, there was an undeniable warmth and kindness in his gaze that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He was the heart of their little band, the glue that held them together through thick and thin, even if he often wore that heart on his sleeve with a kind of gentle, melancholic grace.

In that moment, as James looked at his friends tangled together in a mess of limbs and laughter, an overwhelming sense of love and protectiveness surged through him. They were more than just friends; they were his family, his brothers in all but blood. The thought of losing even one of them was unthinkable. He’d go to the ends of the earth—fight a dragon, outwit a cunning Slytherin, or face down a particularly disgruntled Professor Sprout—to keep them safe and happy. 

The truth was, James could hardly imagine life without them. Sirius’s relentless pranks, Peter’s earnest enthusiasm, Remus’s quiet strength—they were as essential to his existence as air. And, in his heart, James knew he would do anything to see them smile, even if it meant enduring a particularly foul-tasting potion or spending an entire night in the Forbidden Forest. They were his world, and he would protect that world with every ounce of his being. 

As he looked at Remus, who was now grinning despite the earlier gloom, James felt a fierce pride. Remus might be battling his own demons, but he was still here, laughing, sharing moments of joy. And as for James, he’d be damned if he didn’t do everything in his power to make sure those moments of joy came more often than not. 

“Oi, Moony,” James said, nudging Remus in the ribs playfully, “don’t think you’re getting away that easily. We’re not done with this group hug yet. Besides, it’s your turn to tell a joke. And no, ‘why did the werewolf cross the road’ isn’t an acceptable answer.”

Remus snorted, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. “Oh, alright. But only if you promise not to make any more jokes about my handwriting.”

James laughed, the sound bright and carefree. “Deal. But you know, if you ever need a scribe, I’m your man. My atrocious handwriting is a work of art.”

As they all settled into a comfortable heap, the warmth and camaraderie between them were palpable. In that space, surrounded by his friends, James felt a profound sense of belonging. They were an odd bunch, a collection of mismatched pieces that somehow fit together perfectly. And for James, that was enough. It was more than enough.

Chapter Text

As April bled into May, Hogwarts was engulfed in its annual revision-induced hysteria. The castle itself seemed to buzz with the collective anxiety of its inhabitants. Professors launched into their well-rehearsed speeches about the importance of year-end grades, fifth-years fretted over their O.W.L.s as if the world might end with a misplaced wand flick, and Madam Pince found herself the most sought-after individual in the castle, presiding over the chaotic waves of students swarming the library like bees to honey.

The Marauders, despite their usual disdain for rules and convention, were not immune to the madness. Peter would dissolve into a puddle of nerves the moment he cracked open a book, muttering that he was doomed to fail everything. James was a whirlwind of activity, barely stopping to catch his breath as he dashed from class to Quidditch practice to the library, fueled by some inexhaustible energy source. Remus, ever the enigma, became more elusive than the Grey Lady, slipping out of the dormitory in the early hours and returning just before curfew, often with Mary, Marlene, or Lily by his side. Sirius, true to form, made it a point of pride to leave his schoolwork until the last possible moment, spending his time devising new ways to terrorize anyone who crossed his path—including, of course, his own mates.

One evening, as James entered their room, he was greeted by the sight of Sirius grinning around the toothbrush in his mouth, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Go on, Moony," Sirius teased, "Tell us who’s the lucky lady! Mary? Marlene? Don’t say Lily—you’ll break Potter’s heart!"

James froze mid-step, his heart dropping like a stone. "What? Something going on with Evans?"

"No," Remus grumbled, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Black’s just being a prat."

"Playing hard to get, eh?" Sirius persisted, his grin widening.

"They’re my friends," Remus replied flatly, clearly fed up.

"That’s how it always starts…" Sirius sing-songed, dodging the pillow Remus chucked at him with practiced ease.

James, finally snapping out of his momentary daze, settled onto his bed with a sly grin. "Now, now, Mr. Black," he said, playing along, "I think we both know the real object of our dear Master Lupin’s affections…”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Pray tell, good sir, who might that be?"

James wiggled his eyebrows dramatically. "Madam Pince."

Remus groaned, his face turning a rather spectacular shade of red as he buried it in his hands. The room erupted with laughter, the sound bouncing off the stone walls as the other Marauders clutched their sides. They’d been ribbing him about the stern librarian ever since she’d taken a liking to him—shushing him less, allowing overdue books without so much as a stern glare, and nodding approvingly whenever he re-shelved his books properly. Remus had insisted that it was merely because he, unlike James and Sirius, refrained from “disruptive behaviour” in the sacred halls of the library, but the others found the whole situation far too entertaining to let it go.

"Who knew our Moony’d become such a heartbreaker, eh?" Sirius shook his head, still chuckling.

James nodded, adopting a mock-serious expression. "A right menace, that one. Pretty soon he’ll have every girl in the castle joining his ‘study club.’"

Remus, exasperated, responded with a few choice hand gestures that only made the others laugh harder.

Despite the relentless teasing, Remus continued to spend considerable time with the girls in the library, while James and Peter oscillated between the library and the common room, often huddled near the fire, books in hand. As for Sirius, he floated between them all, his mischief-making knowing no bounds.

On days when James wasn’t hitting the books, he could be found on the Quidditch pitch, either with the team or alone, honing his skills with the single-minded determination of someone who had long ago fallen in love with the thrill of the game. Today was no different, despite the ominous clouds gathering overhead. As he made his way to the pitch, a part of him relished the challenge of playing in the rain; it made the game feel raw, unfiltered. But as he arrived, broom in hand, he was surprised to find that he wasn’t alone.

There, darting through the air with impressive speed and grace, was Regulus. The younger Slytherin was chasing a Golden Snitch, his movements fluid and precise as he weaved through the thickening rain. James watched in awe, momentarily taken aback by Regulus’s skill. For all his disdain for the younger Black’s House and the heavy mantle of ‘heir’ he wore like a shackle, there was no denying the kid was talented.

But as Regulus misjudged a sharp turn and went tumbling to the ground, frustration etched on his face, James knew he had to step in. 

"Nice moves, Little Black," James called out, striding over to where Regulus was picking himself up off the muddy ground. "But you might want to work on your landings."

Regulus shot him a glare so frosty it could’ve frozen the rain mid-fall. "Mind your own business, Potter," he snapped, swatting away James’s offered hand and remounting his broom with a huff.

James grinned, undeterred by Regulus’s icy demeanour. "Oh, come on, Little Black," he teased, mounting his own broom and hovering beside him. "Let me help you out. Don’t tell me you’re too proud to accept a bit of advice from a Gryffindor."

Regulus scowled, his jaw tightening in that way James had seen Sirius do a hundred times before. "I don’t need your help, Golden Boy," he retorted, stubborn as a mule.

James chuckled, the sound lost in the wind as the rain began to fall harder. "Prove it, then," he challenged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Show me what you’ve got."

And with that, they were off, their brooms slicing through the air as they raced each other across the pitch, practising sharp turns and complex stunts. The sound of their banter mingled with the distant rumble of thunder, echoing across the empty stands as they pushed each other to their limits.

"You’re not bad, Little Black, for a Slytherin," James called out, grinning despite the rain now soaking through his clothes.

Regulus shot him a smirk, his competitive spirit shining through. "Tell me something I don’t know," he quipped, though there was a hint of genuine appreciation in his tone.

But as the storm began to intensify, James couldn’t shake the growing sense of unease twisting in his gut. The dark clouds loomed overhead, and the wind had picked up, whipping the rain into a frenzy. It wasn’t safe to be flying in these conditions, and James knew it.

"Alright, Regulus, we need to head inside," James urged, his voice tinged with concern as he slowed his broom.

But Regulus only laughed, his face defiant as he hovered higher in the sky. "Afraid of a little rain, Golden Boy?" he taunted, clearly enjoying the thrill of the storm. "Or are you just scared to be outflown by a Slytherin?"

James’s expression hardened, his worry outweighing the playful rivalry. "This isn’t a joke, Regulus. It’s dangerous to fly in a storm like this," he insisted, his voice firm.

Regulus hesitated, his resolve faltering for just a moment. But then he shook his head, his jaw set stubbornly. "I can handle it," he declared, shooting upwards into the darkening sky with a burst of speed.

James’s heart clenched with fear as he watched Regulus disappear into the swirling clouds. Without a second thought, he followed, his broom slicing through the rain as he raced to catch up with the younger boy.

"Regulus, please," James shouted, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. "This isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about not getting yourself killed!"

Regulus glanced back, his eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and something deeper—something James couldn’t quite place. "I don’t need you to look after me, Potter," he snapped, his voice filled with a bitterness that caught James off guard. "I’m not Sirius. I won’t bend to your every whim like some dog. I’m not blinded by the James Potter charm like he is."

The words stung more than James cared to admit, but before he could respond, a blinding flash of lightning struck dangerously close, sending a jolt of fear through him. In that split second, his grip on his broom faltered, and he felt himself plummeting towards the ground, helpless against the raging storm.

But before he could hit the muddy earth, a strong hand shot out, grabbing his wrist with surprising strength. James’s heart raced with relief as he realised it was Regulus who had caught him, the younger boy’s face pale but determined as he pulled James back onto his broom.

They crashed onto the stands in a tangled mess of limbs, both gasping for breath, drenched to the bone. The storm raged on around them, the thunder growling ominously overhead. For a moment, they just lay there, stunned and silent, before Regulus broke the tension in true Black fashion with a dry quip. "Looks like someone else needs to work on their landings."

James, still trying to catch his breath, couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Typical Regulus, always with the sharp tongue. As he glanced over at the younger Black, he couldn’t help but notice how different he was from Sirius. Sure, they had the same striking Black family features—the dark hair, the sharp cheekbones, and those piercing eyes—but Regulus had a certain refinement about him. There was a quiet intensity, a sort of controlled elegance that simmered beneath the surface, unlike Sirius’s wild energy.

Even with his hair plastered to his forehead by the rain and mud smeared across his cheeks, Regulus still had that poised air about him. But James caught something else, too—a flicker of vulnerability, an uncertainty that lingered in his ice blue eyes. It made him seem almost... human. Not just the cold, aloof Slytherin he always pretended to be.

After a moment, Regulus let out a soft chuckle, surprising James. The sound was light, almost airy, and it broke the heavy silence between them.

James grinned, the tension in his chest easing. “We should probably wait out the storm in the changing rooms,” he suggested, his tone more lighthearted now. “No point risking another lightning strike.”

Regulus nodded in agreement, and the two of them clambered to their feet, making their way off the rain-soaked pitch. As they trudged across the muddy grounds, James found himself sneaking glances at Regulus. He was still trying to piece him together, this enigma of a boy who was so much more than he’d first assumed.

Once they reached the shelter of the changing rooms, the silence between them grew heavy again. The rain pounded against the roof, and James found himself staring out at the drenched Quidditch pitch, his mind whirling. They both sat down on some small stools they’d found, shoulders almost touching, and James realised with a start that Regulus was already looking at him. The younger boy recoiled slightly, quickly turning away, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“So,” James began, trying to break the awkward silence, “Any plans for the summer?”

Regulus’s eyes flickered away, and James caught a glimpse of something guarded in his expression. “We don’t exactly have the kind of relationship for small talk, Golden Boy,” Regulus replied tersely, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

James sighed inwardly. Of course, it wasn’t going to be easy. “Fair enough,” he conceded, trying not to let the frustration show. “But sitting in silence until the rain stops isn’t exactly thrilling either.”

Regulus shrugged, his shoulders tense. “I wouldn’t mind,” he admitted quietly. “But that’s never going to happen with you around.”

James couldn’t help but grin at that. “You’re right about that,” he said, leaning back slightly. “So, what are your plans then?”

Regulus hesitated, his gaze flickering towards the floor. “Just going home,” he muttered vaguely.

“And?” James pressed, determined to keep the conversation going. “Any plans with your family?”

Regulus’s expression darkened slightly. “Not really,” he replied evasively, “They’re away a lot these days.”

James felt a twinge of sympathy. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have parents who were always off doing Merlin-knows-what, leaving their youngest son behind. “What do you do when Sirius is with me during breaks?” he asked gently.

Regulus’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I spend time with Kreacher, our house-elf,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s been with my family for generations. He’s my friend. He’s been there for me when no one else was.”

James blinked, genuinely surprised. “A house-elf?” he questioned, a note of incredulity creeping into his voice.

Regulus’s gaze hardened. “House-elves are more than just servants, Potter,” he retorted, his voice tinged with indignation. “They’re loyal, they’re devoted, and they deserve respect.”

James furrowed his brow, considering Regulus’s words. He’d never really thought about house-elves like that before. Sure, he’d never treated Gully badly, but he’d never considered him a friend either. “I never really thought about it like that,” he admitted, feeling a pang of guilt for his previous disregard.

Regulus gave him a small nod of acknowledgement. “Most people don’t,” he said, his voice tinged with resignation. “Doesn’t mean it’s right.”

James felt a surge of admiration for Regulus then. There was so much more to him than he’d realised. “You’re right,” James admitted, his tone earnest. “More people should see things the way you do.”

Regulus’s expression softened, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But for now, I’ll settle for one.”

James hesitated for a moment, then decided to go for it. “You know,” he began tentatively, “I was planning on asking Sirius to stay with me during the summer. And, well, you’d be welcome too.”

For a moment, Regulus’s eyes sparkled with something almost hopeful, but then his walls went up again. “I’m not one of your strays, Golden Boy,” he snapped, the sharpness in his voice returning. “And I won’t be locked up in a cage.”

James felt his heart drop a little at that. He hadn’t meant it like that at all. “Are you sure you aren’t in one already?” he blurted out before he could stop himself, the words slipping out in a rush.

Regulus froze, his eyes flashing with an unreadable emotion. Then, with a tense nod, he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t bother asking Sirius about staying for the summer,” he said tersely, his voice tight. “Our parents won’t allow it.”

“Wait,” James called out impulsively, stopping Regulus in his tracks.

Regulus turned back, his expression guarded. “What now?” he asked, his tone tinged with impatience.

James took a step closer, his expression earnest. “I just wanted to say… thank you,” he said, his voice tinged with sincerity.

Regulus’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Thank me?” he echoed, disbelief evident in his voice. “For what? If anything, I’m the reason you were caught in that storm in the first place.”

James shook his head, refusing to let it go. “That doesn’t change the fact that you saved me,” he insisted, his gaze steady. “And for that, I’m grateful.”

Regulus seemed taken aback by James’s words, his expression softening slightly. “It was nothing,” he muttered, almost as if he didn’t want to admit it.

But James wasn’t about to let him brush it off. “No, it wasn’t nothing,” he countered, his gaze unwavering. “And just because Sirius tries to paint you as the bad guy, that doesn’t mean you have to be one.”

Regulus’s eyes widened in surprise at James’s words, and for a moment, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. “It’s not that simple,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

James nodded, his expression understanding. “I get that,” he said sympathetically. “But maybe it could be.”

Regulus’s gaze met James’s, a mixture of surprise and gratitude in his eyes. For a moment, they simply stood there, sharing an unspoken understanding. Then, with a nod, Regulus turned and walked away, leaving James to contemplate everything that had just happened. 

As James watched Regulus’s retreating figure, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to the younger Black than anyone realised. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for him yet.

* * *

"So, summer?" James asked casually, swirling the last bit of his Butterbeer in the mug as they sat in the Three Broomsticks. It was their final Hogsmeade weekend before exams, and the air was thick with the bittersweet tension of their looming end-of-year tests.

Sirius and Remus groaned in perfect unison, as if they’d rehearsed it.

“You know I can’t—” Remus began, his tone resigned.

“They’ll never let me,” Sirius finished, rolling his eyes dramatically.

James raised his eyebrows in mock innocence. “I don’t see why, though. You both managed Christmas, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but there’s some rule about me staying at St. Edmund’s for the whole summer,” Remus sighed, clearly weary of the whole situation. “While I’m there, I have to follow Muggle law. You don’t get to visit anyone when you’re in care unless they’re related.”

Sirius let out a heavy sigh of his own. “And you know what my lot is like,” he said with a touch of bitterness. “Even after Christmas—honestly, I think they only let me go to keep me out of the way. But Reg has already told me I’m expected to be home all summer.”

James’s interest piqued at that. “When did you speak to Regulus?” he asked, surprise lacing his voice. Sirius cringed slightly, shifting awkwardly in his seat. Sure, James had spoken to Regulus a few times—being on the Quidditch pitch together and all—but it wasn’t exactly a regular occurrence.

“Er… the other day,” Sirius muttered, clearly uncomfortable. “Wasn’t worth mentioning, really. Only saw him for a minute.”

James didn’t push it, though a part of him was curious. Regulus had always been a bit of a mystery to him, and he wondered what sort of conversation could have passed between the two brothers.

“I’ll be there all summer, James,” Peter chimed in, a bit too eagerly. His tone made it clear he wanted to be noticed, like a kid waving his hand in class.

Sirius rolled his eyes so dramatically that James half-expected them to get stuck in the back of his head. But James just grinned, giving Peter’s knee a light, reassuring pat. “Yeah, great, mate. Least I’ll have you, eh?”

Peter beamed, clearly pleased, but Sirius was already moving on, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I might be able to swing a trip to Diagon Alley,” he said, perking up slightly as the idea formed in his head. “I’ve been thinking about it, and if you brought the Invisibility Cloak, we might be able to work something out…”

They launched into a brainstorming session, trying to figure out the best way to help Sirius give his family the slip, if only for a day. The thought of sneaking out, dodging his parents, and spending a day in the wizarding world with his mates seemed to cheer Sirius up—though only just. The looming reality of a long, dreary summer at Grimmauld Place still hung over him like a dark cloud.

But then another idea struck James, and his attention shifted.

“Moony,” he began, turning to Remus with a thoughtful look, “where exactly is St. Edmund’s?”

“Epping Forest,” Remus replied, his tone cautious. “Why?”

James, ever the optimist, perked up even more. “We could always come and visit you…”

“No,” Remus cut in, his voice so forceful that it took all three of them by surprise. The lively chatter in the pub seemed to dim as the Marauders turned to look at him. Remus swallowed, clearly uncomfortable, and added, “Just don’t, okay? It’s a bad idea.”

James felt a sharp sting of disappointment at Remus’s abrupt refusal. He’d been genuinely excited at the thought of visiting Remus over the summer, of spending time with him away from Hogwarts’s watchful eyes. It felt like a slap, really, and James couldn't help but wonder what had triggered such a strong reaction. Remus was usually closed off, sure, but this felt different. Was there something about St. Edmund’s that he was hiding? Or was it just that he didn’t want to burden them with his troubles?

James exchanged a quick glance with Sirius and Peter. They both seemed to sense the shift in Remus’s mood and silently agreed it was best not to push further. Whatever was going on, Remus had made his feelings clear, and they would respect that. For now, anyway.

“I’ll write,” Remus said, his words coming out a bit too fast, as if he were trying to fill the silence before anyone else could. “And you lot can tell me everything you get up to. Hopefully, I can come to yours again at Christmas, Potter.”

“You might not,” Sirius interjected suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension. “Full moon’s on the twenty-ninth this December.”

Remus turned to him, a look of mild bemusement crossing his face. James couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing just a bit. “How come you’ve memorised every bloody full moon until we’re fifty, but you can’t get above an ‘Acceptable’ in Astronomy?”

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, lifting his tankard to his lips with that trademark smirk of his. “Some things are important to remember, some things aren’t.” He drained the rest of his Butterbeer in one smooth swig, then grinned as he added, “And messing up the constellations really annoys my parents. So, there’s that.” 

James shook his head with a chuckle, appreciating the way Sirius could always find a way to turn even the most mundane of facts into a small act of rebellion. And for now, that was enough to keep the gloom at bay.

* * *

Mid-May, 1974

James stifled a yawn, blinking down at the page in front of him. He’d been buried in his book for what felt like hours now, and the words were beginning to blur together. Too long, really, if you asked Sirius. But then again, Sirius was the type who didn’t need to study much—everything seemed to come naturally to him, as if magic was just another extension of his own rebellious nature. James, on the other hand, had to put in the effort. His talents leaned more towards Quidditch and charm work, the magical and the social kind, but when it came to the nitty-gritty of theory, he needed the extra hours.

Sirius, who had thrown his own book aside ages ago, was sprawled out with his head resting comfortably in James’s lap. His long black curls, still slightly damp from his last adventure—probably the showers or maybe the lake—were splayed across James’s robes. James absentmindedly ran his fingers through Sirius’s hair, the action calming and rhythmic, earning him a low grunt of approval from Sirius. He was more like an overgrown dog than usual, all contented grumbles and lazy stretches.

The quiet of the common room, usually a haven for the few late-night stragglers, was suddenly disturbed as the portrait hole swung open and two figures climbed through. Sirius’s head shot up from James’s lap, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room like a guard dog on high alert, ready to pounce on the slightest disturbance.

“I’ll help you with Crups if you want,” Remus was saying as he entered, Marlene right behind him. “We can do it tomorrow at lunch.”

“Thanks, Remus.” Marlene gave him a quick hug, her books clutched to her chest, before heading upstairs to her dorm. Remus let out a tired sigh, his shoulders sagging as the weight of the day seemed to catch up with him.

Sirius’s grin turned wicked, and he let out a loud wolf-whistle, making Remus roll his eyes as he approached the fire where they were sitting. “Here he comes! Look out, ladies, Gryffindor’s number-one heartthrob, coming through!” Sirius crowed, his voice echoing in the near-empty common room.

James finally looked up from his book, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re going to have to tell us your secret, Moony,” he added, his tone teasing. “You seem to get all the girls.”

“She’s just a friend, and you know it,” Remus said, though there was a slight flush to his cheeks as he plopped down in a nearby armchair. “Where’s Pete?”

“Showering,” James replied with a slight grimace, “Peeves attacked him with a jug of yesterday’s custard.”

“Eurgh,” Remus winced in sympathy.

“Yep, that’s the sound he made,” James said with a chuckle, his attention already drifting back to his book.

“Thank Merlin you’re back,” Sirius piped up, turning his attention to Remus. “James has been so boring today.”

“I’m revising,” James said in a mock-serious tone, eyes still on his book as he flipped a page. “You should be too, Black.”

“Pfft,” Sirius huffed, clearly unimpressed.

“I’m done revising for today,” Remus announced with a grin, sensing the need for a change of pace. “Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?”

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” Sirius said, his grin widening as he sat up, his earlier boredom evaporating at the prospect of a bit of fun.

“Shut up and get the cards,” Remus retorted, already reaching for the worn deck they kept stashed under the coffee table.

James watched the exchange with a fond smile, closing his book with a decisive thud. He could use a break, after all. They had all night for revising, but moments like these, with his best mates laughing and teasing in the common room, were what really made Hogwarts home.

Chapter Text

What would you think if I sang out of tune?

Would you stand up and walk out on me?

Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song

And I’ll try not to sing out of key

Friday 28th June 1974

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” James declared, shaking his head in exaggerated disapproval. He folded his arms across his chest and fixed Sirius with a mock-serious stare. “I mean, really, Black! Have you no decency? No humility? I don’t think I saw you open a textbook even once!”

The results of their final exams had just been posted, and to absolutely no one’s surprise, Sirius had done brilliantly with what appeared to be minimal effort.

Sirius yawned theatrically, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes with a flourish. “Natural genius, Potter,” he drawled, his voice dripping with exaggerated arrogance. “Can’t help it! Feel free to bask in my glory, though.”

James sighed dramatically and flopped onto Remus’s shoulder, groaning for effect. “It’s up to you, Moony—you’re the only one who can keep his ego in check,” he said, peering up at Remus with a pitiful expression. Remus, after all, had managed to come first in History of Magic, narrowly beating Sirius, while James hadn’t managed to top any subject.

Remus rolled his eyes and shook James off, laughing despite himself. “You’re all ridiculous,” he muttered, though there was a hint of embarrassment mixed with a flicker of pride in his eyes. After three years of consistently excellent marks, Remus had finally started to accept that he was, indeed, quite brilliant. He no longer looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor whenever someone praised him, though he still seemed a bit uncomfortable with the attention.

“Nicely done, kid!” Professor Ferox had slapped Remus on the back during breakfast that morning, the day after the results were posted. “My best student, as always.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Remus had replied with a sheepish grin, clearly pleased.

“I’ve got a few books you might like to borrow over the summer—pop up to my office before you leave, eh?”

“Teacher’s pet!” Sirius had teased as the tall, long-haired professor walked away. Remus, ignoring the jibe, had smiled down at his porridge, looking incredibly chuffed with himself.

“Can’t believe we’re going into fourth year already,” James said now, polishing his glasses on his robes with a resigned sigh. The thought of another year of classes didn’t thrill him as much as the mischief he could plan in the meantime.

Sirius’s smile immediately fell. “Do you have to keep reminding me?” he groaned, throwing his head back dramatically like a tragic hero in one of those dreadful Muggle soap operas James’s mum sometimes watched.

“There’s plenty to do over the summer,” James replied with a grin, “It’ll fly by. Plus, we’ve got a few… projects to work on, haven’t we?”

Unfortunately, Remus was listening more closely than James had anticipated. “What are you doing over the summer?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. James blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

“Planning next year’s pranks, obviously,” Sirius said quickly, a little too quickly. “Got to keep ahead of the curve, Remu my boy. We’ve got a reputation to maintain, haven’t we?”

Remus studied him for a moment, his amber eyes scrutinizing Sirius’s face. After a tense pause, he shrugged and seemed to accept the explanation. James let out a silent breath of relief, catching Sirius’s eye and receiving a meaningful look in return.

The Marauders, minus Moony, had agreed to begin the Animagus transformation process over the summer, communicating via letters to coordinate their efforts. Sirius had been the most adamant about starting, and while James was excited, he also knew they had to keep it under wraps—especially from Remus, who would undoubtedly disapprove of the risks they were taking. It wasn’t easy keeping secrets from him, but it was all for his sake in the end.

After breakfast, the four of them headed upstairs to pack for the summer. Well, three of them packed—James, Remus, and Peter—while Sirius bounced around the room like a hyperactive puppy, flicking the record player on and off and sending books and clothes flying in every direction.

“It’s getting done whether you like it or not,” James said firmly, placing his hands on his hips in a gesture reminiscent of his mum when she was at her most exasperated.

“You’ll do it for me, like last year,” Sirius replied with a cheeky grin, attempting to do pull-ups on the bed frame. The ancient wooden beams creaked ominously, but Sirius, ever the daredevil, ignored the sound.

In the corner, Remus snapped the lid of his trunk shut with a decisive click. His normally cluttered space, usually scattered with quills, parchment, and books, was stripped bare, looking distinctly un-Moony. James didn’t like it—it felt too final, too much like the end of something. But he knew they needed to discuss their summer plans without Remus around, and they couldn’t do that with him still in the room.

“Moony,” James began, trying to sound casual, “Don’t you have to go see Madam Pomfrey?”

“Er… yeah, but not right now…” Remus replied, looking up with a frown.

“Well, I mean, if you’ve finished packing, you may as well go now, right? When I’m done with Sirius’s stuff, I was going to suggest we all go out for a fly, and you hate flying, so…”

“Oh, really? Okay then,” Remus nodded, though he looked a bit put out. James hated himself for making his friend uncomfortable, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that it was all for Remus’s sake in the long run.

“We’ll see you at dinner, right, Moony?” Sirius asked, flipping off the bed and landing with the grace of a cat.

“Yeah, I s’pose…” Remus mumbled, and without another word, he left the room, not even bothering to say a proper goodbye.

Sirius sighed as the door clicked shut behind him. “Nice going, Potter,” he muttered, punching James lightly on the arm before collapsing back onto his bed.

“Oi! Someone had to say something—you’re the one insisting we start everything this summer. We couldn’t exactly talk about it with Moony here,” James shot back, rubbing his arm where Sirius had hit him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius waved a hand dismissively. He lay quietly for a moment, staring up at the wooden beams above. After a beat, he sighed and sat up, clearly unable to stay still for long. “Right then! Let’s discuss. Ingredients!”

“Ingredients,” James echoed, moving an armful of Sirius’s Muggle books over to his trunk for safekeeping during the summer.

“Mandrake leaves won’t be an issue,” Sirius said, pulling a crumpled list out of his pocket. “Pete, you already nicked some from the greenhouse, yeah?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “They’re in my trunk somewhere! Let me just—” He began digging through his neatly packed clothes and books, making a mess all over again. Sirius grinned at the sight.

“Brilliant. Then we’ll all need crystal phials that can ‘receive the pure rays of the moon.’ They’ll have to be big enough to hold all the ingredients too, remember—James, have you got anything like that at your house?”

James thought for a moment, recalling the crystal phials he and Lily had found during their last visit to the dungeons. They’d be perfect for the job, but if he told the others he already had them, they’d ask him how he got them. He wasn’t about to drag Lily into this, especially since their plan was technically illegal. “Maybe,” he said cautiously. “I’ll check. I think my mum’s got some old potion-brewing kits in a cabinet somewhere.”

Sirius nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Alright. I’ll check too—if none of us have anything that works, we’ll have to buy them in Diagon Alley. Shouldn’t be too hard to find. Let’s see… silver teaspoon. I’ve got that one covered. My family’s got more silver than we could ever possibly need. S’pose Kreacher might notice if some of it goes missing, but he won’t be able to prove it was me if I hide it well enough.”

James scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Pretty sure we’ve got some silver teaspoons too. If you want, I can handle that part—my parents probably wouldn’t mind… not that I’d tell them, of course, but if they did find out, they wouldn’t… erm…” He trailed off awkwardly, glancing at Peter. Sirius stiffened slightly, though he tried to hide it.

“S’alright, Potter, I can do it,” Sirius said nonchalantly. James exchanged a look with Peter—they both knew Sirius wasn’t as confident as he was pretending to be.

“Well, I’ll still check too, all the same.”

“If you like. Other than that, it’s just down to the Death’s-head Hawk Moth chrysalis…”

“I think my mum bought some of those once,” Peter piped up. “From some sort of specialty potions-ingredient store. They’re really expensive.” He bit his lip, looking embarrassed as if he’d just realised who he was talking to.

“No worries, Pete,” James said warmly. “Price is no object when it comes to our Moony. I’ve got it covered.”

“Pete, d’you think you can remember the name of the store where your mum bought them? Was it in Diagon Alley?”

Peter’s brow furrowed as he ruminated deeply. “Erm… I think it might have been from some sort of seasonal seller… I could ask her?”

Sirius and James exchanged a knowing look. Sirius was the first to speak, carefully choosing his words. “As long as you think you can ask without raising any suspicions, remember, we don’t want anyone in our families catching wind of this.”

James nodded sagely, putting on his best ‘academic’ expression. “We could always pretend it’s for a Potions project. A completely above-board one, of course. I can come over to your house, Pete, and we can ask her together.”

Peter seemed to chew over the suggestion, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, that could work… though, she’s still a bit put out with your mum, you know, after Christmas…”

James blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t realised that the Pettigrews would hesitate to let him visit. He’d always felt like their house was almost a second home.

“Oh, right—well, you can just use me as an excuse if it comes to that.”

Peter gave a nod of agreement, and Sirius turned his attention back to his list.

“Assuming Pete can track down the Moth chrysalises, that leaves us with the dew…” Sirius read from the list, “’From a place where neither human feet nor sunlight have touched.’ We won’t need to worry about that until it’s time to brew, but we’ll need to scout out a suitable spot.”

James, having finished cramming books into Sirius’s trunk, suggested with a grin, “We can look for the perfect spot while we’re at home. A shady corner should do the trick—shouldn't be too difficult.”

Sirius’s face darkened into a frown. “Yeah, but we need to find somewhere completely untouched. So, once we’ve been there, it’s no good.”

James rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Good point. I suppose we’ll just have to be diligent about searching and avoid getting too close to any potentially promising spots.”

Sirius mumbled agreement as he scanned the list again, his eyes squinting in concentration. James, sitting down beside him, gave his friend a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“It’ll be fine. We’re going to pull this off, Black—stop stressing.”

Sirius managed a grateful smile, shoving the list into his pocket. James tousled Sirius’s dark locks affectionately, resolved never to let his friend lose that characteristic grin.

“Of course we will!” Sirius declared with dramatic flair, standing up as if addressing a grand audience. “We’re Marauders!”

Peter, from his spot on the floor while rummaging under his bed, gave a wide grin. James, still smiling, reached for another armful of records to pack. The room was filled with the rhythmic sounds of packing, until Sirius, clearly unable to contain his restless energy, leaned against the bedpost and twirled his wand idly.

“So…” he began, his eyes glinting with mischief as he watched Peter refolding his clothes, “What do you reckon you’ll turn into?”

“Hmm?”

“Your Animagus form! What kind of animal do you think you’ll be?”

Peter looked up, deep in thought, his brow furrowed in concentration. James, on the other hand, felt a rush of excitement at the prospect of his Animagus form. The idea of transforming into an animal was exhilarating, and he imagined himself as something powerful and grand. He was sure his Animagus form would reflect his bravery and strength.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I’ll be a lion.” James said, puffing out his chest with confidence. Lions were majestic, courageous, and—of course—the emblem of Gryffindor. It seemed like a fitting choice. The thought of himself as a lion, with a mane as wild as his own hair, filled him with pride.

Sirius, however, burst into laughter. “You can’t just choose the Gryffindor mascot, Potter!”

“Why not? Besides, I’ve already got the hair for it, haven’t I?” James strutted in front of a Gryffindor banner, mussing up his hair for effect. It did bear a striking resemblance to a lion’s mane, he mused with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Alright, alright,” Sirius chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

Yet beneath the laughter, James felt a pang of uncertainty. The process of becoming an Animagus wasn’t about choosing an animal; it was about discovering an intrinsic part of oneself. What if his form wasn’t as grand as he’d hoped? What if it was something less majestic?

But James pushed those doubts aside. He remained confident that whatever form he took would be fitting for a Gryffindor—and more importantly, fitting for him.

“What about you, Pete?” Sirius asked, turning to the smaller boy who was gnawing on his lip in thought.

“I don’t know,” Peter said hesitantly. “I just hope it’s not something dreadful. It would be nice to fly… maybe a bird?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. “What kind of bird, though—there’s more than one.”

“Um… an owl?”

Sirius groaned. “Now you’re just picking the first bird that comes to mind!” James stifled a laugh, finding the whole exchange both amusing and a little sceptical.

Owls were wise and noble, symbols of intelligence and foresight. As much as James cared for Peter, he found it hard to picture the timid boy as an owl. Peter was loyal and determined, but he often lacked the confidence and quick thinking that characterised an owl.

Perhaps there was something to Peter’s desire to fly. Flying symbolised freedom and escape, which seemed fitting for Peter’s cautious nature. But if Peter were to become a bird, James imagined something more practical—like a sparrow or a small, swift creature that could dart away from trouble.

“Well, if you’ve got it all figured out, what about you, Sirius?” Peter asked with a hint of irritation. Sirius grinned mischievously.

“I, my dear Marauding counterparts, am destined to become…” He paused for dramatic effect, ignoring Peter’s eye-roll, “A wolf!”

The room fell silent for a beat before erupting into laughter. 

“I can’t believe you were giving us grief when you’ve just gone and copied Remus!” James gasped between breaths. Sirius, looking affronted, shook his head.

“I’m not copying—might I remind you that our esteemed Mr. Lupin is a werewolf, not just a wolf. There’s a difference.”

James rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Why would you choose to be a wolf, then? Go on,” he folded his arms, waiting for an explanation.

Sirius, ever the showman, had chosen something bold and majestic—something that matched his larger-than-life personality. Yet, as James thought about it, he saw the logic behind Sirius’s choice. Wolves were strong, independent, and fiercely loyal to their pack—traits that certainly matched Sirius. His wild, untamed streak made him unpredictable and exciting to be around. But there was more to it than that.

James realised that becoming a wolf could symbolise Sirius’s desire to escape his pure-blood family’s expectations and forge his own path. It was also a gesture of solidarity with Remus, a way of bridging the gap between werewolf and Animagus.

But, true to form, Sirius simply tossed his hair over his shoulder and smirked. “Why, it all comes down to my natural animal magnetism, of course.”

James threw a pillow at him with mock severity. “Watch out, Black—if you keep up with that level of vanity, you might just end up as a peacock.”

Chapter Text

James,

I hope you’re enjoying your summer.

Things have taken a peculiar turn here. My parents have more or less given up on trying to discipline me. They’re perpetually off to these mysterious meetings—at our house or someone else’s, maybe Bellatrix’s or the Malfoys’. Regulus is tight-lipped about it, which is odd because he usually can’t resist bragging about such things. I suspect they’ve put some sort of charm on him to keep him quiet.

I’ve got this nagging feeling that something dreadful is on the horizon. It sounds mad, I know, but there’s something distinctly off about this house lately. Sometimes, I’m oddly relieved that you, Moony, and Peter are all so far away.

I’m thinking of asking to stay with you again. It sounds a bit daft, I admit, but if they’re going to ignore me, why should I stick around? They didn’t even ask me to be an usher at Cissy’s wedding (which, to be honest, I’m quite relieved about), so maybe they’ve disinherited me and just haven’t had the decency to inform me yet.

I can’t wait until we’re all seventeen and can live together all the time, just like at Hogwarts. I’m dreaming of us setting up on Carnaby Street, like in Melody Maker. We’ll figure it all out—Muggle Studies has been surprisingly enlightening on how money works.

Best,

Sirius O. Black.

* * *

Sirius,

Just got your letter—good to hear from you, though I’m sorry things are a bit rough at home. If only there were more I could do from here. I’ll have a word with my parents and see if we can arrange for you to stay with us for the rest of the summer. You’re practically family anyway.

Your parents sound like they’ve gone off the deep end. It’s outrageous that they’re just ignoring you like that. And Regulus—typical, really. He probably enjoys having some secret over you, but if he’s being all hush-hush, you can bet it’s dodgy. Whatever they’re up to, it can’t be anything good.

Things are a bit peculiar here, too. My dad’s been spending a lot more time locked away in his office, going out frequently and coming home late. He’s been quite tight-lipped about his whereabouts, and Mum’s started stashing food away for him like she doesn’t expect him for dinner. It’s all very uncharacteristic, and it’s starting to unsettle me.

We’ll be seventeen before we know it, and then we can escape this mess. Carnaby Street sounds brilliant! We’ll have the coolest flat, and imagine the parties—we’ll be living the dream.

In the meantime, hang in there. Keep your head down and try to stay out of trouble, though I know that’s easier said than done. If things get too dire, just come over. No need to ask—just show up. There’s always a spot for you here.

Take care of yourself, Sirius. Can’t wait to see you soon.

Best,

James.

* * *

James sat at the dinner table with his parents, absently pushing his food around his plate. The silence between them was almost tangible, broken only by the occasional clink of cutlery and his father's resigned sighs. His mother, trying valiantly to keep up the pretense of normalcy, seemed strained and weary.

James cleared his throat, feeling it was high time to break the oppressive silence. “I got a letter from Sirius today.”

His mother looked up, a flicker of interest crossing her face. “Oh? How is he?”

James took a deep breath, deciding to dive straight in. “Not great. Things are pretty rough at his place. His parents are basically ignoring him, and he’s got this eerie feeling that something dodgy is brewing. Honestly, I’m quite worried.”

His father, who had been intently studying his plate, finally looked up. “Dodgy? What do you mean by that?”

“He didn’t go into specifics,” James explained, “but it sounds like his parents are mixed up in some dark dealings. Meetings with the Lestranges and the Malfoys, that sort of thing. His brother isn’t saying a word, which is odd because he usually loves winding Sirius up with his little secrets. Sirius feels like something bad’s coming.”

His mother’s brow furrowed in concern. “Poor boy. Well, he’s always welcome here. You know that.”

James felt a wave of relief wash over him. “I was hoping to ask if he could stay with us for the rest of the summer. I think it’d really help him to get away from all that.”

His father’s expression softened slightly. “Of course, James. He can stay as long as he needs to.”

His mother added, “And what about Remus? He usually stays at his boys’ home, but perhaps he’d like to join you two here for a while?”

James’s face brightened. “That’d be brilliant! I’ll drop him a note and see if he can come over.”

Despite the agreement, James couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about his father’s mood. Fleamont Potter was usually so engaged, so present. Tonight, however, he seemed miles away. James decided to broach the subject gently.

“Dad, you’ve been going out a lot lately. Is everything alright?”

Fleamont looked at him, fatigue etched in his features. “Just work, James. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“But it seems more than just work. You’ve been coming home late, and Mum’s been putting food aside for you. Is there something going on?”

His dad sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “It’s just… business matters. Complicated stuff. You don’t need to concern yourself with it.”

James wasn’t convinced, but before he could push further, his father stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to.” He gave James a weary smile and retreated to his office, closing the door softly behind him.

James watched him go, then turned to his mother. “Mum, what’s going on with Dad? He looks so… drained.”

She at her son, a shadow of worry in her eyes. “It’s… there are things happening, James. Things that involve the rising darkness. Your father is involved in important work, but he doesn’t want to burden you with it.”

James felt a shiver run down his spine. “Is he in danger?”

She shook her head. “Not directly. But the work he’s doing is crucial. He’s trying to make the world safer for all of us. Just be patient with him, alright? He’s carrying a heavy burden.”

James nodded slowly, trying to absorb her words. “Alright. But if there’s anything I can do to help…”

His mother smiled softly. “Just keep being you, James. Focus on your studies and your friends. That’s more helpful than you might realise.”

Later that night, James lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as his mind whirled with thoughts of his father’s mysterious activities. He knew he had to find out what was going on. Quietly, he slipped out of bed, grabbed his Invisibility Cloak, and made his way downstairs to his father’s office.

The house was eerily quiet as he moved through the halls. The door to his father’s office was slightly ajar, and he slipped inside, careful to close it quietly behind him. The room was dimly lit by moonlight filtering through the window. James waited for a moment, listening for any sounds. Hearing none, he began his search.

He started with the desk drawers, rifling through papers and files, taking care to return everything to its original place. He found nothing of interest until he opened the bottom drawer. There, among various documents, was a letter addressed to his father from Alastor Moody. James recognised the name from their encounter at the Ministry.

He opened the letter and began to read. It was a list of names, some of which he recognised: Arthur Weasley, Frank Longbottom, Fabian and Gideon Prewett. As he tried to make sense of it, he heard footsteps approaching. Panicking, he dove under the cloak just as the door creaked open.

His dad entered, looking more weary than James had ever seen him. He walked to his desk and immediately noticed the open drawer. His eyes narrowed, and he turned towards the room, seemingly looking right at the spot where James was hiding.

“James,” he said quietly, “I know you’re here. You can’t hide from me with that cloak—I gave it to you, remember?”

James sighed, pulling off the cloak and standing up. “Dad, I just—”

His gaze fell on the letter in James’s hand. His face darkened. “What are you doing with that?”

James stood his ground, heart racing. “I needed to know what’s going on. You’ve been so secretive, and I’m worried. What is this list?”

His expression hardened. “That’s private, James. You had no right to go through my things.”

“And you had no right to keep me in the dark!” James shot back, feeling a surge of frustration. “I’m not a child anymore! I can handle the truth!”

For a moment, his dad’s eyes flashed with anger. They stood there, glaring at each other. Then, with a deep sigh, his expression softened. “You’re right. I should have trusted you more. But you need to understand, James, I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” James demanded. “What are these names about?”

His dad rubbed his temples, looking suddenly much older. “Sit down, James. It’s time you knew.”

James sat, his eyes fixed on his father.

“These names,” he began, “are part of a resistance. We’re working against a growing threat—the Dark Lord, as he’s known. He’s been gathering followers since 1970, all pure-bloods who believe in blood purity and superiority. Our family stands against everything they believe in.”

A chill ran down James’s spine. “So what’s this resistance?”

“Alastor Moody and I, along with many others, are creating a network to stand up to the Dark Lord and his followers. We’re doing everything we can to keep our families safe. Dumbledore is overseeing it all. I trust him with my life—and yours. He might be the only one we can trust soon enough.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” James asked, a mix of fear and frustration in his voice.

“Because you’re still young, James,” he said gently. “You should be enjoying your youth, not worrying about this war. You have your whole life ahead of you. But you need to be careful. We’re considered blood traitors in their eyes, and that puts us at risk.”

James’s mind reeled with this new information. “So, what do we do?”

His dad placed a hand on his shoulder. “You focus on being young. Enjoy your summer with your friends. I’ll handle this. And remember, I will always be here to protect you. That’s a promise. But for now, just be a kid for a little while longer.”

James nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. “Alright, Dad. I’ll try. And… I’m sorry for sneaking around.”

His dad chuckled softly and pulled James into a tight hug. “You’ve got a bit of your old man in you.” As they broke apart, his dad looked at him with a tired but determined expression. “Now, get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

James managed a small grin. “Got it. Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, James.”

As James left the office, he felt a mixture of relief and lingering worry. He glanced back at his father, who was now staring at the letter on his desk with a pensive look, and wondered what more was yet to come.

* * *

Dear Moony,

Just a heads-up: Sirius is coming to stay with us this summer. He should be arriving this afternoon, so any post for him can be sent here. I hope your summer's going well. You seemed a bit off at the end of term—everything alright?

I know you're probably going to say no, but Mum and Dad still insist that you're welcome to stay whenever you like. We could always come to visit, too. Don’t want you to be on your own, especially these days.

Take care,

James.

* * *

James,

What do you mean by ‘these days’? Is this what Sirius was hinting at with his cryptic family meetings? You know how the Blacks are—always with their secrets. It’s probably nothing more than them plotting Regulus’s betrothal or some other grand family scheme, and they just want Sirius out of the way.

Anyway, as I told Sirius, don’t worry about me. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey reckon this is where I’m safest, and they’re the ones in charge of me, right? Obviously, I’d rather be spending the summer at yours, but that’s not happening, so can we please just drop it?

And don’t come here either—just trust me on this.

R.

* * *

Dear Remus,

Sorry if I upset you, mate. That wasn’t my intention at all. I’ll stop asking if it’s a bother.

I hope you’re having a good summer despite everything. We all wish you were here with us. You’re right, if Dumbledore says you’re safe there, then you’re safe there. Dad reckons Dumbledore might be the only one we can rely on soon enough.

Take care of yourself,

James.

* * *

James had just finished scribbling down the last letter to Remus and was about to set his quill aside when the door to his bedroom was flung open with typical Sirius flair. Striding in with an air of reckless abandon, Sirius seized the letters from James’s desk with a flourish.

“Oi, give those back!” James protested, reaching out in vain.

Sirius, ever the showman, held the letters just out of James’s grasp, his eyes darting over Remus’s reply. His expression quickly shifted from casual curiosity to a frown of disapproval. “What the bloody hell is this? Remus having a go at you?”

James sighed heavily, running a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s not like that, Sirius. Remus is just... blunt. You know how he is.”

Sirius shook his head vigorously, frustration evident in every line of his face. “Blunt? This sounds more like he’s giving you a lecture for actually caring about him. ‘Can you please drop it?’ Honestly, James, he shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

James leaned back in his chair, trying to quell the rising irritation. “He didn’t mean it that way. He’s under a lot of stress, we all are. He’s just trying to keep us from worrying too much.”

Sirius snorted dismissively. “Yeah, well, maybe we should try harder to convince him to come stay with us. It’s absurd that he’s stuck with Muggles when he could be here, safe and sound.”

James shook his head, a frown tugging at his lips. “Dumbledore thinks it’s best for him to stay with the Muggles. Says it’ll be safer for him there.”

“Safe?” Sirius looked as though he’d just bitten into a lemon. “What does Dumbledore know about living with Muggles? Remus gets into fights, barely eats, and has his head shaved every summer. Does that sound safe to you?”

James hesitated, his conviction wavering under Sirius’s intensity. But he straightened, setting his jaw. “Dad says we have to trust Dumbledore’s judgement. And we should trust that Remus can handle himself.”

Sirius remained silent for a moment, fixing James with a look that was both piercing and unyielding. Finally, he said with a certain finality, “No.”

James blinked, confusion evident. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Sirius’s lips curled into a sly grin as he repeated, “No.”

Before James could get a word in edgeways, Sirius had snatched a quill and a piece of parchment and bolted out of the room with the urgency of a man on a mission.

Exasperated, James called after him, “Sirius! Don’t push him too hard! You know how Moony gets!”

Sirius’s laughter rang down the hall, leaving James slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He knew Sirius’s heart was in the right place, but sometimes his methods were... well, distinctly Sirius-like.

* * *

Things took a distinct turn for the better once Sirius arrived. It always did. James was absolutely over the moon to have him there, and his parents greeted Sirius with such warmth that it almost seemed like those deep blue eyes of his were misting over. Naturally, Sirius did his best to brush off the sentimentality, though the soft blush on his cheeks betrayed him. They set him up in his usual bedroom, the one with the slightly creaky floorboard that James had always meant to fix, and kept him well-fed with cucumber sandwiches and freshly squeezed lemonade. His mum had a knack for doting that was rivalled only by the finest of overenthusiastic aunts, and Sirius relished every moment of it.

James and Sirius spent their days in a whirlwind of activity—soaring through the skies on broomsticks, delving into the woods near the house in their quest for adventure, or listening to his father’s tales of his youthful exploits. His dad had a habit of embellishing, spinning yarns about a “particularly tenacious and strikingly beautiful young witch” who, according to him, had convinced him to settle down. James often rolled his eyes at this, but the gleam in his father’s eye made it clear that the story, though exaggerated, was told with great affection.

Peter joined them nearly every day, his presence ensuring that their chess games were ever more competitive, though he seemed to have an uncanny knack for winning every single time. He also took up the role of Keeper for their Quidditch practice, much to James’s delight. The three of them huddled together to discuss their Animagus plans, experimenting with ingredients and perfecting the incantation’s pronunciation. At night, Sirius would sneak into James’s room, and they’d whisper about their plans for next year’s pranks until sleep claimed them both.

Yet, despite the joyous moments, not everything was sunshine and broomsticks. The Daily Prophet continued to churn out grim reports of dark magic surges and scattered attacks, casting a shadow over what should have been a blissful summer. While Sirius’s home at Grimmauld Place had been rife with secret meetings and hushed conversations, James began to notice that the same murky politics were encroaching on his own home. His parents had their share of private discussions, and occasionally, a group of “old friends” would arrive, only to retreat to the study with the door firmly shut behind them.

James grappled with the disparity between their carefree times and the grim reality lurking just beyond their doorstep. The contrast between their riotous Hogwarts adventures and the ever-looming threat of the war was jarring and unsettling. There was a constant gnawing anxiety in his stomach, a nagging feeling that something dreadful was looming on the horizon, and that their youthful bravado might not be enough to shield them from it.

Sirius’s presence was a bittersweet comfort. On one hand, it was a reprieve from the tension and uncertainty. On the other, it was a stark reminder of the war’s harsh reality. Sirius was a living testament to the war’s personal cost, embodying the very dangers they all faced. His rejection of the Black family’s dark ideals and alignment with James’s ideals came at a steep price, one that James admired but could not entirely shake off his worry for.

James’s own family, the Potters, were stalwartly opposed to the dark forces gathering strength. Their active role in the resistance was something James deeply respected, but it also added to his anxiety. The whispered conversations and covert meetings in their home were a constant reminder of the risks they faced. The thought of something happening to his parents, knowing they were targeted simply for standing against the dark forces, was a weight James carried every day, even as he tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

And then there was Remus. James was increasingly troubled by the sudden shift in Remus’s letters. They had grown increasingly terse, as though he were irritated by their concern, and eventually, Remus had stopped responding altogether. No matter how often they tried to reach out, their owls returned with empty talons. Eventually, they stopped writing, but James's worry did not abate. Every headline about attacks on Muggles sent a fresh wave of anxiety through him, and he couldn’t help but hope that wherever Remus was, he was safe.

* * *

Remus? Please, let us know you’re alright.

James.

Chapter Text

Sunday 1st September 1974

King’s Cross Station was as chaotic as ever, the usual pre-term bustle filling the air with a mix of excitement and nerves. James stood by Platform 9¾ with Sirius and his parents, trunks stacked high on the trolley beside them. He could hear the clattering of trolleys, the excited chatter of students, and the occasional screech of an owl—all of it a comforting kind of noise that signaled the start of another year at Hogwarts.

But Sirius was unusually quiet, his blue eyes scanning the crowds as if searching for something—or someone. James, noticing this, turned his attention to his parents, who were currently locked in an awkward conversation with the Pettigrews.

“Yes, well, Philomena’s decision to move to America was certainly a surprise,” Mrs. Pettigrew said, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. “We’re still not entirely sure what spurred it on.”

James’s father gave a polite smile, though James could see the strain in his eyes. “We’re sorry to hear that, Felicity. We always thought she was quite happy here.”

Mrs. Pettigrew sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “Well, she was, until she started spending so much time at your house. I’m sure it had nothing to do with your… progressive views.”

James bit down on his tongue, trying to hold back the retort that was threatening to spill out. He knew Peter’s parents were conservative, but this was a new level of passive-aggressiveness. He glanced at Peter, who was standing a bit off to the side, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. Peter caught James’s eye and gave a subtle shake of his head, clearly begging him not to make things worse.

“Petey, dear,” Mrs. Pettigrew continued, turning her sharp gaze on her son, “don’t you think it’s time you stopped spending so much time with the Potters? We wouldn’t want you getting any ideas like your sister, would we?”

Peter forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Mum, I’ve told you, I’m fine. The Potters have been very good to me.”

“Yes, well, just remember to behave yourself this term,” Mr. Pettigrew added gruffly. “No need to act out.”

James felt a surge of anger on Peter’s behalf, but Peter shot him another pleading look. Reluctantly, James swallowed his words and looked down at his feet, his fists clenched in frustration.

“Peter’s always been a good boy,” James’s mum said kindly, trying to smooth things over. “We’re very fond of him, you know.”

Mrs. Pettigrew’s lips thinned into a tight line. “Yes, well, just make sure he stays that way.”

As the conversation mercifully shifted to more neutral topics, James’s attention drifted back to Sirius. His friend’s silence was starting to worry him. Sirius was usually the loudest of the lot, always ready with a joke or a sarcastic comment. But today, he seemed… distant.

“You alright, mate?” James asked quietly, his voice low enough that only Sirius could hear. “You seem a bit… tense.”

Sirius shrugged, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

James studied him for a moment longer, but Sirius had already turned away, his gaze fixed on something far off in the distance. James sighed internally, deciding not to push it—for now.

Soon after, they said their goodbyes. Euphemia Potter pulled James into a bone-crushing hug, and despite the slight discomfort, James relished it. His father’s hug was equally tight, lifting James off the ground for a moment. It was a gesture James cherished, a reminder of how much he was loved.

Mrs. Pettigrew fussed over Peter, throwing a final, resentful glance at the Potters before sending her son off. The three boys climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express and made their way to their usual compartment.

Once they were settled in, Sirius finally seemed to shake off his earlier mood. “Petey,” he cooed, doing an exaggerated impression of Mrs. Pettigrew’s voice, “have you got enough snacks? Oh, Petey, did Mummy remember to pack your wand? Petey, do you need—”

“Oh, shut up,” Peter groaned, flopping down in his seat. “She’s always like that, and it’s only gotten worse since Philly’s run off.”

James patted Peter on the back. “Don’t worry, mate. I get why your mum’s worried, but I’m sure Philly’s alright.”

“Yeah,” Peter muttered, though he didn’t look convinced. “Just wish she’d at least given us some heads-up. Now Mum keeps acting like I’m going to run off to live with Muggles if she doesn’t remind me every five seconds how much she’s counting on me to… I dunno, uphold the family legacy or something. She keeps talking about getting me an internship at the Ministry.”

Sirius scoffed. “The Ministry? Didn’t think you were the political type, Pete.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m not. But with my luck, she’ll find something mind-numbingly dull, like filing paperwork for the Department of Magical Transportation.”

James, who had been about to tease Peter further, suddenly grew serious. “I dunno, seems like there’s politics everywhere in the Ministry these days. Did you lot see the Prophet this morning?”

He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet. Sirius squeezed in next to Peter to read over his shoulder, and the three of them examined the headline together: JENKINS CRITICISED AS SECURITY MEASURES ON MINISTRY TIGHTENED.

They were still reading when the door to their compartment slid open, and in walked Remus.

“Alright?” Remus’s voice had a new depth to it, one that caught James off guard. He lowered the paper and stared at his friend, his jaw practically dropping.

Remus had changed. A lot. He was taller now—taller than James, even—and his once boyish features had sharpened into something more mature, more rugged. There was a new confidence in the way he moved, a casual sort of power that made James feel like he was looking at a stranger.

James exchanged a glance with Sirius and Peter, both of whom looked equally stunned. What the hell happened to Remus over the summer?

Remus slung himself into the empty seat across from them, acting as though he hadn’t just shocked the life out of his friends.

“Good summer?” James asked, trying to keep his tone light.

“Yeah, not bad.” Remus reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small tin box. James’s eyes widened as Remus opened it to reveal five pre-rolled cigarettes. He plucked one out and lit it with a quick flick of a match.

James stared, dumbfounded. Since when did Remus smoke? This was definitely not the responsible, cautious Remus he knew.

His mind raced. What’s gotten into him? Is he stressed about something?

He glanced at Sirius and Peter, hoping one of them might have an answer, but they both seemed as confused as he was. Sirius was unusually quiet, and Peter looked like he was about to bolt from the compartment.

James considered saying something but hesitated. He didn’t want to come off as overbearing, especially not when Remus seemed so… different. But he couldn’t just let it go, either. This wasn’t like Remus at all.

He’s hiding something, James realised, a knot of worry forming in his chest. But I don’t want to push him away.

“We were worried when we didn’t hear from you,” James said finally, trying to sound casual.

Remus shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Sorry. Busy.”

“Doing what?” Sirius asked, blunt as ever.

“Just busy.” Remus’s face remained infuriatingly blank.

James exchanged another glance with Sirius, who seemed just as concerned. Something was definitely off.

“Are you okay, Remus?” James asked, more directly this time. “Has something happened?”

“Nope.”

“You seem different.”

Peter, ever the observer, suddenly piped up. “Your clothes!”

James looked Remus up and down, noticing for the first time the smart button-down shirt, the bright blue drainpipe jeans, and the chunky black boots. It was a look straight out of one of Sirius’s Muggle fashion magazines.

“I’ve seen Muggles dressed like it,” Sirius finally spoke up, a note of admiration in his voice. “It’s cool, right, Remus?”

Remus shrugged again. “My mates got ‘em for me, that’s all.”

“Oh, well, if it’s a Muggle thing…” James trailed off, still feeling uneasy. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Lay off, Potter,” Remus sighed, tilting his head back against the seat and closing his eyes as he took another drag. He looked bored, like he couldn’t be bothered with the conversation.

James felt a pang of hurt at Remus’s dismissiveness. He had always tried to be there for his friends, and it stung to be brushed off like this.

“What you reading, then?” Remus asked, nodding at the newspaper. James handed it over, still frowning.

“The war,” James said, watching as Remus’s nonchalant expression faltered.

“War?!” Remus sat up straighter, clearly shocked. “What war?” He snatched the paper and scanned the headline, his eyes going wide.

“Didn’t you know?” James asked, incredulous. “The wizarding world has been officially at war since 1970.”

Sirius and Peter nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in like a slow, creeping chill. For the past four years, the war had been a sort of dark, distant cloud—always there, but never quite touching their lives. It was something that adults whispered about, something tied up in Ministry politics and complicated laws that seemed far removed from the day-to-day of school and Quidditch. But this summer had changed everything. The cloud was no longer distant; it was moving in, casting shadows over their carefree days.

"We weren’t even at Hogwarts in 1970," Remus said, sounding a bit defensive. "I barely knew anything about the wizarding world then. What… I mean, who are we fighting?"

"That’s the problem," James frowned, trying to piece it all together in his mind. "It’s not clear, not easy to pin down. But this ‘Dark Lord’—whoever he is—he’s been gathering allies. Almost all pure-bloods."

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. "I reckon those are the meetings my family’s been going to," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, even though it was just the four of them in the compartment. "James’s dad agrees with me."

James felt a strange mix of pride and unease at Sirius mentioning his dad. It was rare for Sirius, who was so fiercely independent, to admit he trusted an adult, even if that adult was Fleamont Potter. A little swell of pride warmed James's chest, but it was quickly followed by a tight knot of worry. If Sirius—someone who never relied on anyone—was turning to his dad for guidance, things were worse than James wanted to admit.

He glanced at Sirius, who wore a grim expression, and felt a surge of protectiveness for his friend. The war, which had always seemed like a distant storm, was now looming closer, threatening to pull them all in.

"Is that why the Slytherins were such a joy to be around last year?" Remus asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"Yep," Sirius replied, his lips curling into a humourless smile. "And it’ll be worse this year, you can bet."

"There were some… attacks this summer," James added, his voice faltering slightly. He didn’t want to think about it, but the words spilled out anyway. "On Muggles and a few mixed-blood families."

"They think the Dark Lord is using dangerous creatures," Peter piped up, his voice shaky. "Vampires and giants and… and…"

Remus shot him a sharp look, jaw tightening.

"And werewolves?" he finished, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice.

"Moony…" James started, feeling the tension crackling in the air.

"I need the loo," Remus cut him off abruptly, standing up and yanking the compartment door open before any of them could stop him. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Sirius glared at Peter, and without missing a beat, punched him on the arm. "Nice going, you prat."

Peter yelped, rubbing his arm and scooting closer to James for comfort. "I’m sorry!" he said, his voice small and guilty. James reached out and ruffled Peter’s hair, trying to soothe him.

"Alright, alright," James said, raising a hand to stop any further argument. "Pete said he’s sorry. No point in beating him up over it."

Sirius huffed, clearly not satisfied, but he turned to stare out the window instead. James sighed and grabbed the newspaper from Remus's seat, folding it and tucking it away.

"D’you reckon he’s alright?" James asked after a moment, his voice tinged with concern.

"Who? Moony?" Sirius replied, though he knew exactly what James meant.

"Yeah."

"He said he was fine, didn’t he?" Sirius shrugged, but there was something in his eyes that told James he was just as worried.

"Yeah, but… you know how he gets."

Sirius sighed, and James knew they were all thinking the same thing. Remus was strong, but there were things that cut deeper than he let on. Peter nodded, his face serious.

"Just give him a few minutes," Sirius said, glancing at the door Remus had just stormed through. "If he doesn’t come back, I’ll go and find him." The faint smell of smoke still lingered in the air, reminding them all of what had just happened.

They waited, the minutes ticking by slowly. James tried to distract Peter with talk of the chess club, but his mind kept wandering back to Remus. Sirius, always impatient, finally stood up and headed out to look for their friend. James offered to go with him, but Sirius waved him off, insisting that Remus wouldn’t want to cause a scene.

James settled back in his seat, turning to Peter, who still looked shaken. He could see the guilt eating away at him, and he knew he had to say something.

"Look, Pete," James began, his voice gentle but firm, "you’ve got to think before you speak, mate. Remus is… well, you know how sensitive he is about certain things."

Peter nodded, his eyes downcast. "I know, James. I’m sorry. I really am. But… people are always going to be afraid of werewolves. It’s just how it is."

James felt a flash of irritation, but he kept his voice steady. "You know better than to talk like that, Pete. Remus is our friend. He’s more than just a—" He lowered his voice, "—a werewolf. He’s not some mindless beast."

Peter looked ashamed, his voice barely a whisper. "I know, I know. It’s just… I’m scared too, you know? What if my parents find out I’m friends with a werewolf? You know how they are, James."

James softened, hearing the fear in Peter’s voice. "Pete, you can always talk to me, you know? I get it. Things have been rough with your sister leaving and all. But that doesn’t change how we treat Remus."

Peter shook his head, a resigned look on his face. "There’s no point, James. Talking about it won’t change anything. And… maybe it’s better if you keep your distance from my family. They’re not exactly fond of you and your parents right now."

James felt a pang of hurt at that, but he pushed it aside. "I don’t care what your parents think, Pete. You’re my friend, and that’s what matters. Just… be careful with what you say, alright?"

Peter nodded again, looking miserable. "I’m sorry, James. Really, I am."

They lapsed into an awkward silence, the weight of their conversation pressing down on them. James glanced at the empty seat where Remus should have been, a gnawing worry settling in his stomach.

After a few more minutes of quiet, James stood up. "I think I’m going to go look for them. They should be back by now."

Peter looked up, concern flickering in his eyes. "Do you want me to come with you?"

James shook his head. "No, it’s alright. Stay here. Keep an eye on our stuff."

Peter nodded, and James gave him a reassuring smile before stepping out into the corridor. The train rattled along, the familiar noise of students chattering and the occasional whistle of the conductor filling the space around him. James moved quickly, scanning each compartment for any sign of his friends.

As he rounded a corner, he froze. Lily was kneeling beside Severus Snape, her face etched with concern as she tended to his bloody nose. The sight sent a pang of jealousy through James, twisting uncomfortably in his chest.

He watched as Lily gently brushed Severus’s hair back, her touch soft and caring. There was a kindness in her eyes that made James’s stomach churn with a mix of admiration and frustration. It was one of the things he loved most about her—that compassion she showed even to someone like Severus. But seeing it directed at Snape, of all people, was like a punch to the gut.

Lily stood up, her expression determined. "Stay here, Sev. I’ll get something from my compartment to help stop the bleeding."

As she disappeared into a nearby compartment, Severus looked up and caught James’s eye, a smirk curling on his lips. "Well, if it isn’t Potter, skulking about as usual."

James’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I’m not skulking, Snivellus. What happened to you, trip over your own feet?"

Severus wiped at his bloody nose with a sneer. "Not that it’s any of your business, but I had a little… disagreement with your friend Lupin. He’s got quite the temper, hasn’t he?"

James blinked, surprised. Remus did this? But why? Before he could ask, Severus continued, his voice low and taunting.

"It’s almost funny, really. Here you are, fancying yourself as Lily’s protector, yet it’s me she’s worried about, not you. She’ll never waste her time on an arrogant show-off like you, Potter."

James felt his temper flare, his face heating with anger. "Shut your mouth, Snape. I don’t care what you think."

Severus stepped closer, his smirk widening. "Oh, but you do care. It must eat you up inside, seeing her care for me. She’ll never look twice at you. You’re nothing but a bully and a braggart."

James’s vision blurred with rage, and his fists clenched instinctively. He took a step forward, eyes locked onto Severus, who seemed to revel in every bit of anger radiating off him.

"You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about," James growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Severus, always the slippery git, leaned in closer, his words dripping with venom. "Oh, but I do. And if you don’t want her to find out that it was your precious Lupin who gave me this bloody nose, you’d better take the blame. Imagine how devastated she’d be, knowing her friend is just as much a monster as everyone thinks."

A cold shiver ran down James's spine, the realisation hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. He knew Severus was right. If Lily found out, it could shatter her friendship with Remus, and Remus didn’t deserve that—not after everything he’d been through. The thought of Lily looking at Remus with anything other than her usual kindness was enough to make James feel sick.

He felt his resolve crumbling. The bravado, the usual swagger—it all felt hollow now. Defeated, he nodded stiffly. “Fine. I’ll take the blame.”

At that very moment, as if fate had a twisted sense of timing, Lily reappeared, a damp cloth in one hand and a small vial in the other. Her sharp eyes flicked between the two boys, brow furrowed in suspicion.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded, her voice laced with concern and that ever-present authority she seemed to carry.

James swallowed hard, desperately trying to keep his voice steady. “I… it was me… I hit Snape. It was stupid.”

Lily’s eyes widened, a flash of shock quickly giving way to disappointment. “What? Why would you do that?”

James forced himself to meet her gaze, though every instinct screamed at him to look away. “I’m sorry, Evans. I just… lost my temper.”

He could see the hurt in her eyes, the disappointment that stung more than any hex ever could. She shook her head, her tone scolding but tinged with a sadness that twisted James’s gut. “Why can’t you just leave him alone? You need to grow up and stop being such a bully!”

James opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but Severus shot him a look—one that said everything and nothing all at once. It was a warning, a reminder of the deal they’d struck, and James felt his voice die in his throat. He clamped his mouth shut, frustration and helplessness mixing into a bitter cocktail in his chest.

Lily turned to Severus, her expression softening as she gently dabbed at his nose. "Come on, Sev, let’s get you cleaned up properly."

James watched as they walked away, Severus throwing one last smug look over his shoulder, the satisfaction clear on his pale, sneering face. James stood there, alone in the corridor, feeling the weight of it all crash down on him.

He leaned against the cold, hard wall, taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to steady the turmoil inside. He knew he had done the right thing for Remus, but the cost was steep—too steep. Lily’s disappointment was like a knife to the heart, twisting deeper with each passing second. All he’d ever wanted was to impress her, to show her he was someone she could rely on, someone worthy of her time. But instead, he’d only managed to push her further away.

Just as James was about to drag himself back to his compartment, to lick his wounds in private, Lily reappeared. She waited until Severus had disappeared into another compartment before turning to James, her eyes searching his face, looking for something she wasn’t sure she’d find.

"Tell me what really happened, Potter."

James tried to feign confusion, even managing a half-hearted shrug. “I told you, I hit Snape. It was stupid, and I’m sorry.”

But Lily wasn’t buying it. She shook her head, her frustration barely contained. "Potter, I find you to be an insufferable prat, but I know you’re not a violent person. You wouldn’t hurt anyone without reason."

James felt the walls closing in, his heart pounding as he scrambled for a way out. "Well, Snape’s an exception, isn’t he?"

She looked at him then, almost pleading, and it broke something inside him. “Potter, you’re many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. Don’t prove me wrong.”

James felt his resolve wavering. He was so close to telling her the truth, to letting it all spill out, to explain why he had to take the blame, but then he saw Remus in his mind—kind, gentle Moony, who’d never hurt a fly unless the full moon dragged it out of him. He couldn’t betray his friend like that, not for anything.

So, he swallowed hard, keeping up the lie even as it tasted bitter on his tongue. “It was me, Evans. I hit him. That’s all there is to it.”

The frustration in Lily’s face faded, replaced by something that cut even deeper—disappointment. She turned to leave, then paused, her voice quiet, almost a whisper. “I wish you were…”

James’s heart sank, and he found himself almost desperate. “What do you wish, Evans?”

She shook her head, her eyes avoiding his. “That’s something you need to figure out on your own.”

And with that, Lily turned and walked away, leaving James standing there in the corridor, alone with the mess he’d made. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes against the sting of tears that threatened to spill over. 

All the bravado, all the jokes—it all felt so far away now. He’d done the right thing, hadn’t he? For Remus, for their friendship. But as he stood there, feeling the cold chill of the train’s metal wall against his back, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that, in the end, he might have lost something much more precious.

Chapter Text

Remus seemed a touch better by the time they all stepped off the train—well, at least he’d agreed to return to the carriage with Sirius, which was progress. But the faint light in his eyes dimmed almost immediately; they had barely twenty minutes until sunset when they arrived in Hogsmeade, and Madam Pomfrey was already there, waiting for Remus at the station, her expression both stern and concerned.

“Good luck, Moony,” Sirius muttered as they parted ways in the midst of the bustling, black-robed students. Remus nodded grimly, and Sirius gave him a small nudge with his shoulder—a silent, wordless promise of support.

It felt downright odd, heading into the Welcoming Feast without Remus. Usually, the Marauders would have spent the meal watching him pile second and third helpings of everything onto his plate, making bets on how much he could manage before finally waving the white flag. Tonight, his seat was glaringly empty, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by more than just the Marauders.

“Where’s Remus?” Lily asked, sitting a little way down the table with Mary and Marlene.

“Hi, Evans,” James said dreamily at the same time that Sirius snapped, “What’s it to you?”

Lily rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with either response. “Remus is our friend, Sirius,” she said pointedly, ignoring James’s dazed grin. “I’m just asking why he isn’t here.” Marlene giggled nervously beside her, though it did little to lighten the mood.

“He’s in the Hospital Wing!” Peter blurted out, earning an immediate glare from Sirius. Lily’s sarcastic expression softened, turning to genuine concern.

“Really?” She leaned forward slightly, her voice laced with worry. “Why? Is he alright?”

“It’s private,” Sirius replied, his tone sharpening with a reproachful edge. “If you’re so curious, you can ask him about it when he’s out—but if you’re his friend, maybe you should keep your nose out of his business.”

Lily looked caught off guard, a flicker of both irritation and embarrassment crossing her face. She opened her mouth to respond, but Mary cut in, rolling her eyes and saying, “Alright, Black, no need to be so prissy about it. We’ll talk to Remus later—come on, I’ve got to finish telling you about Darren…” The girls huddled closer as Mary launched into some tale, the focus shifting away from Remus.

Sirius stabbed at his food with his fork, clearly still annoyed, while James winced inwardly. He wished Sirius could be a bit more tactful, especially around Lily. James admired the concern she had for Remus, and a pang of guilt settled in his chest for keeping secrets from her. She deserved to know the truth, but it wasn’t their place to reveal Remus’s condition. Sighing, he watched Lily chat with her friends, her laughter a stark contrast to the unease gnawing at him.

“You didn’t need to be so harsh, mate…” James murmured, his voice low.

“She should mind her own business,” Sirius grumbled, spearing a potato with unnecessary force. Peter glanced between them, his eyes wide with anxiety.

Later that evening, James found himself jogging back toward Hogwarts, his breath coming in steady puffs as he pushed through the pleasant burn in his legs. He’d decided to up his training this year—morning runs weren’t enough anymore, not if he wanted to be in top shape for Quidditch. His thoughts drifted to strategies for the upcoming season and the stack of homework waiting in his dorm, but something unusual caught his attention as he neared the castle—a sleek, black carriage parked just outside the entrance.

Curiosity piqued, James slowed his pace and slipped into the shadows to get a better look. The carriage door swung open, and out stepped Regulus, followed closely by his parents. Odd, James thought, considering the Welcoming Feast had already come and gone, and Regulus had been conspicuously absent during the train ride. Crouching behind a tree, James strained to catch snippets of their conversation. The Blacks were speaking in hushed tones, the kind of conversation that usually meant trouble.

“Remember, Regulus,” Mrs. Black said, her tone icy and commanding, “we expect nothing but the best from you. You know what you must focus on while at Hogwarts.”

“Yes, Mother,” Regulus replied, his voice dutiful but tinged with something James couldn’t quite place—reluctance, perhaps.

“Keep your priorities straight, son,” Mr. Black added gruffly. “Do not disappoint us.”

James frowned, his mind racing. What kind of meeting would be important enough to keep Regulus from arriving on time? He watched as Mr. and Mrs. Black gave their final instructions before Disapparating with a sharp crack. Regulus, left alone, rolled his eyes and, without even looking up, called out.

“You can come out now, Golden Boy.”

James stepped out from behind the tree, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. “How did you know I was there?”

Regulus smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re not as sneaky as you think, Potter. I’m observant, remember?”

James chuckled, but his mind was still turning over what he’d overheard. “So, Little Black, what were Mummy and Daddy talking about?”

“None of your business,” Regulus shot back, shouldering his bag.

James jogged to catch up, falling into step beside him. “Come on, Regulus, you know you can’t keep secrets from me.”

Regulus scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t owe you any explanations, Potter.”

James raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “If your parents are forcing you to do something you don’t want to do, you should talk to someone about it. Even if that person isn’t me.”

Regulus stopped in his tracks, turning to face James with frustration blazing in his eyes. “Why do you care, Golden Boy? It must be exhausting, caring so much about everyone all the time. People will never give you the same care back.”

James’s temper flared at that, his voice hardening. “I’d rather care too much than live in isolation, Little Black. At least I’ve got friends who actually like me.”

Regulus’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Friends or sycophants? It’s hard to tell the difference with you.”

Their argument was abruptly cut short by the arrival of Professor Slughorn, who waddled up to them with his usual jovial smile. 

“Ah, Mr. Black, I see you’ve arrived. And Mr. Potter, how fortuitous!”

James and Regulus exchanged a glance, the tension between them temporarily forgotten in the face of Slughorn’s cheerful obliviousness.

“Good evening, Professor,” James said, forcing himself to sound polite.

“Good evening, indeed!” Slughorn beamed at them both. “It’s wonderful to see two of my brightest students getting along so well!”

James rolled his eyes. “Professor, we’re not—”

“I was informed that Mr. Black would be arriving late and came to escort him to the dungeons. But since you’re here, Mr. Potter, why don’t you help him with his luggage and escort him to his dormitory.”

“Professor, really, I don’t need—” Regulus began, but Slughorn was having none of it.

“Nonsense, nonsense! Mr. Potter is an older student, and it’s always good to foster camaraderie. Besides, I’ll reward you with some House points, Mr. Potter.”

James exchanged a reluctant glance with Regulus, knowing there was no point arguing with Slughorn’s enthusiasm. “Alright, Professor,” he sighed, forcing a smile.

“Excellent! Off you go, then,” Slughorn said cheerfully, patting them both on the back before toddling off.

With a resigned sigh, James grabbed one of Regulus’s bags and started towards the castle. “Come on, Little Black. Let’s get this over with.”

Regulus followed, muttering under his breath, “Don’t call me that.”

“Sure thing, Little Black,” James replied with a smirk, earning a glare from Regulus.

As they walked toward the Slytherin dormitories, the silence between them grew heavy with unspoken words. Finally, James broke it, unable to resist. “Your parents really have a grip on you, don’t they?”

Regulus shot him a dark look. “Drop it, Potter. You don’t understand.”

James sighed, his tone softening. “Maybe I don’t. But you don’t have to do this alone, Regulus.”

Regulus stopped walking and turned to face James, his expression a mix of frustration and something else—something more vulnerable. “Why do you always have to push?”

“Because someone has to,” James replied, his voice steady. “Someone has to care.”

“Why do you even care?” Regulus asked, his voice quieter now, almost unsure.

“Because, despite everything, I don’t think you’re as bad as you pretend to be,” James said quietly. “And I think you deserve a chance to be your own person, not just what your parents want you to be.”

Regulus looked away, his jaw clenched as if fighting some internal battle. Before he could respond, they arrived at the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

“Password?” the stone wall demanded.

“Pure-blood,” Regulus said, the wall sliding open with an almost eerie ease.

Regulus handed his trunk to a waiting house-elf with a curt nod, then turned back to face James, his expression already slipping into that familiar mask of indifference. “I don’t need your pity, Golden Boy,” he said, his voice low but laced with a bite.

James resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that would only make things worse. “It’s not pity, Little Black. It’s concern,” he replied, meeting Regulus’s gaze with unwavering sincerity.

For a brief moment, something flickered in Regulus’s eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the usual cold hardness. “You’re a fool, Potter,” he muttered, his tone carrying more exhaustion than venom.

James shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe,” he conceded with a casual air, “but at least I’m not alone.”

Regulus opened his mouth as if to retort, but no words came out. Instead, he just stood there, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his face. James could see the conflict playing out behind those ice blue eyes, but before he could press any further, Regulus seemed to shake it off. He gave a stiff nod, his face closing off again, and turned on his heel, stepping inside the Slytherin common room without another word.

James stood there for a moment, watching the stone door slide shut behind Regulus, feeling a strange mix of frustration and a flicker of hope. He knew full well that Regulus wasn’t going to open up overnight—if at all. The kid was a Black, through and through, raised to keep his emotions under lock and key, only letting them out when it served a purpose. But James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he’d managed to plant a tiny seed of doubt in Regulus’s mind.

With a sigh, he turned and started the long walk back to Gryffindor Tower, his thoughts already drifting to what Sirius would say when he found out James had been trying to talk sense into his little brother. He could almost hear the snort of disbelief, the inevitable, "Why do you even bother, Potter?" And, truthfully, James wasn’t entirely sure why he did. Maybe it was because he saw something in Regulus that reminded him of Sirius before they’d become friends—before he’d found his place among the Marauders. Or maybe it was just the stubborn streak in him, the part that refused to let anyone, even a Black, slip through the cracks if he could help it.

“Yeah, that’s it,” James muttered to himself, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he quickened his pace, already thinking of the best way to spin the story when he got back to the common room. Maybe he’d tell Sirius that he’d caught Regulus trying to sneak in after curfew or some other ridiculous tale just to wind him up. But deep down, James knew he wouldn’t be able to let it go, not entirely. 

After all, caring too much was kind of his thing, and if that made him a fool, well, then he was fine with that. Better a fool with friends than a lonely genius, he reckoned.

* * *

Monday 2nd September 1974

“Sirius… Siiiriuuuusss…”

Sirius groaned, rolling over in his bed, his face buried in the pillow. He cracked one eye open, bleary and heavy with sleep, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found himself nose-to-nose with James, who was grinning like a lunatic.

“Blimey, mate, don’t do that!” Sirius yelped, clutching at his chest like an old witch startled by a ghost.

James just laughed, springing back off the mattress where he’d been kneeling, his glasses askew. “Come on, up you get!”

“What time is it?” Sirius grumbled, trying to bury himself back under the blankets.

“Time to go to the Hospital Wing!” James said brightly, as if it was the most exciting thing in the world.

Sirius groaned again, pulling the blanket over his head. “Can’t Remus have a lie-in just this once? I’m sure he’d understand...”

But James was relentless, yanking the covers off with a flourish. After an incessant amount of cajoling, lots of yawning, and a few increasingly violent threats from James—he wasn’t above hexing Sirius awake—Sirius was finally standing in the Hospital Wing, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes. It was so early that even Madam Pomfrey wasn’t there yet. She was probably off fetching Remus, which meant they’d beaten him there by mere minutes. James eyed the empty beds with a worried frown, his brows knitted together in that way that meant he was overthinking again.

Before James could work himself into a proper state, the doors to the Hospital Wing swung open. Madam Pomfrey bustled in, tutting when she saw them.

“Early birds, aren’t you?” she said, not quite shooing them out but clearly not thrilled with their presence either.

Remus emerged behind her, grinning broadly despite the obvious exhaustion still etched in his features.

“How’d James get you two up this early?” he asked, clearly amused by the state of his friends.

“It wasn’t easy,” James confessed, as Sirius stifled a yawn that threatened to split his face in two. “I had to resort to threats of violence.”

“And actual violence,” Peter added, rubbing his arm, which was looking suspiciously red. He shot James a glare, but there wasn’t much heat behind it.

“You alright, Moony?” Sirius asked. There was always that underlying worry whenever Remus came back from a full moon, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

“Fine, cheers,” Remus nodded, though his voice was hoarse. Madam Pomfrey ushered him towards his usual bed at the far end of the ward, muttering something about ‘stubborn boys who don’t know when to rest.’

The Marauders waited as Remus undressed behind a screen, climbing into bed with the kind of practised ease that made James's heart clench. He hated how normal this routine had become, how used to it they all were.

“Five minutes!” Madam Pomfrey snapped, bustling over with a Sleeping Draught in hand. “He needs his rest, boys.”

“We can’t stay long anyway,” James assured her, even if he wanted to. “Lessons and everything. We brought you your new timetable, Moony.” He passed the parchment over.

Remus studied it carefully, his brow furrowed. James had already taken a look and knew that Remus would miss quite a few classes today, which would only add to his anxiety. Remus was nothing if not conscientious, and the thought of falling behind would eat at him.

“Could you—” Remus started, looking up.

“We’ll get your homework, Moony, don’t worry,” Sirius cut in, amused. “Nice to see you back to normal.”

“Yeah,” Remus quipped dryly, holding up his arm to reveal fresh claw marks, “Can’t get much more normal than me.”

* * *

The moon must not have been too bad this time—Remus was allowed to rejoin them for dinner, which meant Madam Pomfrey didn’t think he needed to be kept overnight. He slipped into the Great Hall quietly, clearly hoping to avoid drawing too much attention to himself. It might have worked if not for the three eager girls who immediately rushed to tackle him in a tight hug.

“Reeee-mus!” they shrieked in unison, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Remus stared down at them, a look of fond confusion on his face as they squeezed him tightly. He winced slightly but managed to smile through it, allowing them to lead him over to the Gryffindor table as they chattered excitedly.

“I don’t know how he does it,” James said, watching in awe as Remus was practically smothered by adoration. “Just this morning, Evans was telling me she’d rather drink powdered dung beetle shells than talk to me.”

“Bloody ladies’ man,” Sirius muttered, trying to catch Remus’s eye. When he finally succeeded, Remus just gave him a helpless shrug as if to say, What can I do?

James frowned as he took his usual seat next to Lily. She was laughing with Mary and Marlene, her green eyes sparkling with delight. It only made him feel more envious of Remus, who seemed to attract attention effortlessly, without even trying.

As he watched Remus sit down with the girls, James couldn’t help but notice how much his friend had changed over the summer. Remus had always been tall, but now he towered over the girls, even when sitting. He had to incline his head to make eye contact. The girls had grown taller too, but their growth spurts had occurred in other places. James’s eyes flickered, without meaning to, to the way Lily’s white school shirt pulled across her chest.

James quickly tore his gaze away from Lily and tried to focus on his food. Remus seemed to have this effortless charm that James just couldn’t quite grasp. He watched as Lily’s expression softened while she talked to Remus, a stark contrast to the irritation she usually reserved for him. It was like Remus was some kind of magnet, drawing people in without even trying. It was almost unfair.

“Oi, ladies,” Sirius called over when they showed no signs of releasing Remus. “Can we have Moony back, please?”

“No,” Mary replied with a cheeky grin, sticking out her tongue at Sirius. She turned back to Remus, and the Marauders had to resign themselves to yet another Remus-less meal.

James’s thoughts wandered back to Lily. She looked stunning tonight, her fiery hair catching the light from the floating candles above. He wished he could make her laugh the way Remus did, wished he could be the one she looked at with that kind of fondness. Instead, he felt like he was always trying too hard, always one step behind.

He glanced over at Remus, who was now laughing at something Mary had said. His friend’s presence seemed to put everyone at ease. It wasn’t just the girls—everyone seemed to gravitate towards him these days. It was hard to believe this was the same boy who used to be so shy and withdrawn.

“Oi, James, you alright?” Sirius’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“Yeah, just thinking,” James replied, his eyes still on Lily. “How does he do it, Sirius? How does Remus make it look so easy?”

Sirius shrugged, leaning back in his seat with that casual confidence that always seemed to come so naturally to him. “Maybe he doesn’t try so hard. Maybe that’s the secret.”

James snorted. “Easy for you to say. You’ve got half the school swooning over you too.”

Sirius grinned, utterly unbothered. “True, but I don’t fancy any of them. Not like you and Evans.”

James sighed, stabbing his fork into a piece of roast beef. “I wish I had half his luck.”

Sirius chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “It’s not luck, James. Moony is just… well, he’s Moony.”

Later, back in their dorm room, James tried to sound casual as he asked, “So, what were the girls talking about?” He was avoiding Remus’s amber gaze, pretending to be interested in something in his trunk.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Remus replied with a shrug, beginning to unpack his own trunk. “Boys, mostly, and snogging.”

“Snogging?!” Sirius sat up on his bed, suddenly alert.

“Yeah, I know,” Remus said, scrunching up his nose like the topic was personally offensive. “It’s all they’re interested in these days. Mary and her Muggle boyfriend did something over the summer.”

“What did they do?” Sirius looked very interested now—much to James’s amusement.

“Er…” Remus hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, I don’t really know. Lily wouldn’t let her talk about it while we were eating.”

“Ah,” James nodded, feeling an odd swell of pride. “Too clever for all that nonsense, Lily.”

“How’d you know it’s nonsense?” Sirius teased, his eyes sparkling. “S’not like you do any snogging.”

“Oh, and you do?” James shot back, frowning.

“Could if I wanted,” Sirius said, reclining back on his bed with that familiar smirk, arms behind his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Plenty of girls fancy me.”

“If you wanted,” James echoed with a smirk of his own, raising an eyebrow. “So, what, you’ve got girls lining up for a cheeky snog and you’re just… not interested?”

James tried to sound casual, but there was a niggling feeling of envy that he couldn’t quite suppress. He knew Sirius could have any girl he wanted—his natural charm and good looks ensured that. It wasn’t that James doubted his own appeal, but there was something about the way Sirius carried himself, that effortless confidence, that always seemed to overshadow him.

Deep down, James couldn’t shake the nagging thought that he was missing out on something. He envied the ease with which Sirius, and even Remus, seemed to navigate their interactions with girls. He wished he could have that same confidence, especially when it came to Lily. Every time he tried to talk to her, it felt like he was walking a tightrope, one wrong word away from plummeting into disaster.

Just then, a flicker of something passed across Sirius’s face—something almost like panic. It was so brief that James might have missed it if he wasn’t paying close attention. But before he could dwell on it, Sirius’s usual impish grin returned, as if nothing had happened.

“Jealous, are you, Potter?” Sirius teased, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Eugh, of you?!” James pulled a face, trying to mask the lingering hint of doubt gnawing at him. He knew Sirius was only winding him up, but there was a part of him that couldn’t help but wonder… what if?

“Bet Lily fancies me…” Sirius continued, clearly enjoying himself.

“Take that back!” James didn’t hesitate—he launched himself across the room, tackling Sirius into a headlock. The two of them wrestled, laughing as they tried to get the upper hand, their rivalry as playful as it was relentless.

Across the room, Peter sighed dramatically, exchanging a weary look with Remus. “They were like this all summer,” he said, glumly. “Everything’s a competition.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head as he watched the two of them roll around on the floor like a pair of overgrown puppies. “You’d think they’d have grown out of it by now.”

But as James pinned Sirius down, a triumphant grin on his face, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he didn’t want to grow out of it just yet. After all, there was something comforting about their endless competitions, even if they did drive Peter and Remus mad. It was familiar, something solid to hold onto in a world that was starting to feel more uncertain with each passing day.

“Alright, alright!” Sirius gasped, finally conceding defeat. “Lily doesn’t fancy me. Happy now?”

James let him go, but he was still smiling. “Too right. She’s got better taste than that.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance in it. “You keep telling yourself that, Potter.”

As they all settled down for the night, James couldn’t help but glance over at the bed where Lily’s timetable was tucked under his pillow. He wished, more than anything, that he could figure out the secret to making her smile the way she did when she was with her friends. But for now, he’d settle for this—wrestling with Sirius, joking around with his mates, and hoping that one day, he’d finally figure it all out.

Chapter Text

Classes kicked off with the usual faff, the professors droning on about how this year was vital for their futures, as if they hadn’t heard it all before. Madam Pince was back to her old tricks, glaring at the anxious students who flocked to the library like it was some sort of sanctuary. The upperclassmen were already throwing dirty looks at them in the common room, especially when Sirius, never one to respect a study session, dared Peter to a game of Exploding Snap right in front of the fire. James couldn’t help but smirk at the chaos.

Potions was its usual bore, with Snape lurking in the back like some greasy shadow, his lank hair practically obscuring his face. James reckoned he was probably muttering curses under his breath the entire time. History of Magic was a total doss, Binns’s monotone practically begging for students to catch up on their sleep, and James was only too happy to oblige. Astronomy was as dull as ever—just a bunch of rote memorisation—but at least he got to spend it with his mates under the stars. Herbology had kicked off with a unit on carnivorous plants, which was a bit more entertaining than usual. James especially enjoyed watching the plants try to snap at Peter’s fingers whenever he got too close.

Then there was Transfiguration with McGonagall. James actually appreciated her no-nonsense approach; at least she didn’t waste time pretending like everything was life or death. Still, despite all the professors’ warnings about the difficulty of the coursework, James couldn’t shake a sense of disappointment. It was shaping up to be another year of the same old drudgery. The older he got, the more he questioned whether any of this was really as important as everyone made it out to be. Half the time, he figured he could probably learn more in an hour of mucking about in the library than a year of listening to his professors drone on. Not that he’d ever admit to spending an hour in the library willingly—he had a reputation to uphold, after all.

Their first Divination lesson did nothing to change his mind. The professor, a mad old bat by the name of Professor Imelda Frou-Frou, started them off with Ovomancy, of all things. James was fairly certain she’d made it up on the spot, despite her insistence that it was a “deeply rooted historical practice from ancient Greece.” James exchanged a look with Sirius as Professor Frou-Frou waffled on about the mystical properties of egg whites. 

“For our first foray into the ovular mysteries of the future, you shall need partners,” she croaked, her voice as brittle as her bones. She then lugged a massive wicker basket of eggs onto her desk. Seeing that none of them had moved, she flapped a gnarled hand at them, her eyes wide beneath her many shawls. “Go on, go on, pair up!”

Peter heaved a resigned sigh and trudged off to find a partner, while Sirius immediately scooted his chair closer to James. Typical. Peter ended up next to Desdemona Lewis, a Ravenclaw girl with a slight overbite, who gave him a rather cheerful smile. James felt a wave of relief. He couldn’t imagine enduring this ridiculous exercise without Sirius by his side. He shot a sympathetic look at Peter, but Pete seemed to be taking it in stride.

They were each given a basket of eggs and told to practice finding omens using the “key” in their textbooks. The so-called key was a page of vaguely drawn blobs, each supposedly meaning something different. It was so vague it left plenty of room for interpretation, which suited Sirius just fine. He looked completely in his element, cracking eggs on the desk and attempting to read James’s future in the splattered yolk.

“Let’s see, let’s see…” Sirius rubbed his chin thoughtfully, frowning down at the mess of yellow on the table. James rolled his eyes as Sirius clucked his tongue. “I’m afraid it’s not looking good, Potter… not looking good at all… says here that Evans will never love you, and you’ll die a lonely old man, never having known the touch of a woman.”

“Oi!” James shoved his shoulder, grinning. “It does not! Look, right there, that little runny bit—it clearly says Evans is going to fall madly in love with me within the year.”

“No, no…” Sirius scanned the page, his expression suddenly grave. “Oh, mate… I’m so sorry…” He shook his head, his voice mournful. “Says here you’ll be bald by the time you’re thirty.”

James couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing, nearly knocking over the basket of eggs in the process. “You’re making this up!”

“Am not!” Sirius grinned, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s all right there in black and white—or rather, yellow and white.”

They spent the rest of the class making increasingly absurd predictions, stifling their laughter and trying to look serious whenever Professor Frou-Frou tottered past. At one point, Sirius declared that James would end up marrying a giant squid, which nearly sent James tumbling out of his chair, gasping for breath between laughs.

By the end of the lesson, there was egg yolk everywhere and not a single serious omen between them. They cleaned up as best they could and reunited with Peter, who, to James’s surprise, didn’t seem the least bit resentful. Usually, Pete would go quiet and sulky when James and Sirius paired up without him, but today he was in just as good a mood as they were.

“Desdemona was actually quite nice,” Peter said, sounding almost pleasantly surprised. “We had a good laugh at some of the predictions. She said one of them looked like a dragon eating its own tail.”

“Blimey, that sounds intense,” Sirius said, clearly impressed. “You get anything like that, James?”

“Just a load of rubbish about baldness and unrequited love,” James replied, rolling his eyes. “Typical.”

“Well, at least we survived our first Divination class of the year,” Peter said, grinning. 

“Barely,” James muttered, glancing back at the mess of egg yolk still on their table. “Let’s just hope the rest of the year isn’t as ridiculous.”

When they finally found Remus in Gryffindor Tower, he was decidedly not in a good mood. Despite it only being three days into term, he was already acting like the exams were right around the corner. He was buried in a mountain of books, and it took a prefect physically chasing them out of the common room to get Moony to agree to go up to bed.

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Sirius told him as they were shepherded upstairs. “It’s the start of the year, Moony—if you’re going to mess up, you may as well mess up now.”

Remus shot him a glare. “Easy for you to say! Some of us actually have to work for our grades! Plus, it’s O.W.L.s next year! I can’t drop my standards now!”

“Argh, please don’t mention O.W.L.s,” James groaned, quickly stepping between them before an argument could break out. “McGonagall and Flitwick have already scared the life out of me. And why did we decide to take Divination?!”

“I quite like Divination,” Peter said thoughtfully as he dumped his pile of books onto his bed. “Prophecies and all that… It’s exciting.”

“It’s nonsense,” Sirius scoffed, giving Peter a withering look. “You only like it because you’re good at Astronomy.”

“It’s not just that,” James chimed in slyly as he started changing into his pyjamas. “Anyone notice Pete’s got a new partner this year?”

“Ohhh yes!” Sirius’s smirk was pure mischief. “The divine Desdemona Lewis, of Ravenclaw!”

Remus glanced up at Peter, eyebrows raised, and watched as Pete turned a shocking shade of scarlet, from his blue pyjama collar to the roots of his yellow hair.

“Shut up,” Peter mumbled, climbing into bed and pulling the covers over his head. “She’s just a friend.”

“James,” Sirius said in an overly solemn voice, “What on earth are we going to do if Petey-boy here gets a proper snog before any of us?”

“Well, your reputation would be in tatters, for one thing,” James replied, matching Sirius’s serious tone.

“What do I have, if not my reputation?” Sirius grinned back, sliding under his own covers.

Remus huffed in disapproval and yanked his bed curtains closed, clearly done with the conversation. James had to bite back a grin; Moony’s thoughts on the matter were crystal clear.

“Of course, if I got a snog before you, that wouldn’t hurt,” James said, still trying to keep a straight face. “I am on the Quidditch team, after all.”

“Pfft, you don’t have my animal magnetism,” Sirius replied, tossing his hair dramatically.

James’s response came in the form of a pillow, chucked at high speed and with deadly accuracy at Sirius’s head.

“Oi!”

“I bet you—” James started, only to be interrupted by Peter’s groan.

“Oh no… please don’t…”

“...I bet you TEN GALLEONS that I can get a girl to snog me within a month.”

“Ten?!” Peter gasped, poking his head out from under his covers.

“Done!” Sirius called back. “Just you wait, Potter.”

James glanced over at Peter, who had gone unusually quiet. A twinge of guilt twisted in his gut. Peter often got left out when it came to their bets and banter, and James knew it wasn’t entirely fair. Pete didn’t have the same confidence, and it sometimes felt like he was the odd one out. James tried to push aside the nagging thought that they hadn’t even considered Remus in the conversation—no one had made any comment about Moony’s chances of getting a snog. It wasn’t that Remus wasn’t attractive—he was good-looking, sharp as anything, and had this quiet strength about him that James admired. But Remus didn’t seem to care much about that sort of thing, or at least he never let on that he did. James hoped that was true, anyway.

“Alright, let’s get some sleep,” James said, more to break the tension than anything else. He didn’t want Peter to feel left out, but he wasn’t sure how to fix it. “I’ve got a plan to win this bet, and it starts with a good night’s rest.”

“Dream on, Potter,” Sirius called from his bed, his voice full of playful arrogance. “You’ll need more than sleep to beat me.”

James chuckled, but as he settled into his own bed, pulling the covers up around his shoulders, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts linger on the bet. It was all a bit of fun, of course—just another way to keep themselves entertained in the long slog of school life. But there was a part of James that desperately wanted to win. He wanted to prove something, not just to Sirius, but to himself. And, if he was honest, maybe even to Lily Evans.

She was always on his mind, more than he’d like to admit. It wasn’t just that she was pretty—though Merlin knew she was—but there was something about her that made him want to be better. She was brilliant, fierce, and had this way of looking at you that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. But she didn’t seem to see him in the same light. Not yet, anyway. 

James wanted to show her that he wasn’t just a troublemaker or some arrogant tosser who only cared about Quidditch. He wanted her to see that he could be someone worth noticing, someone worth caring about. Winning the bet wasn’t just about beating Sirius; it was about proving that he had what it took to stand out, to be seen.

As he lay there, staring up at the canopy of his bed, he felt a mix of excitement and nerves. The bet had ignited something in him—a challenge, a goal. But more than anything, it had reminded him of what he really wanted. And that, more than anything, was to get Lily Evans to look at him the way he looked at her.

“Just you wait, Evans,” he whispered into the darkness, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This year’s going to be different. I’ll make sure of it.” 

And with that thought, James closed his eyes, his determination settling in as he drifted off to sleep, already plotting ways to win both the bet and Lily’s heart.

* * *

James had always known that things were different this year, but it had taken a while for him to put his finger on exactly what it was. It wasn’t just the raging hormones, the way everything seemed to be about who fancied who, or the odd shift in his own thoughts whenever Lily Evans walked past. There was something darker, something heavier, hanging in the air at Hogwarts. If no one had explicitly told him that the wizarding world was at war, he would’ve figured it out soon enough just by observing the changes around the castle.

The Slytherins, always the most insular of the Houses, seemed to have drawn even further into themselves. They moved in tight-knit packs, murmuring to each other in corners of the classrooms, keeping their heads down but eyes sharp, always watching. James noticed how they stuck close to their common room, rarely seen alone in the corridors. It wasn’t just the Slytherins, either. The Muggle-borns, too, were forming their own groups, travelling in clusters as if sheer numbers could ward off the threat that seemed to be lurking just out of sight.

Even the teachers, who had always been a background presence, seemed more vigilant this year. They were more visible, their expressions tense, and yet, despite their best efforts, certain incidents still cropped up. It was like a shadow had crept into the castle, and everyone was on edge, waiting for the next shoe to drop. Defensive spells were becoming as second nature as brushing your teeth in the morning, and even the Marauders had started to swap out their usual pranks for more serious charms and hexes—things that could actually protect someone.

One day, after a particularly nasty encounter, James found himself fuming in a deserted corridor. He’d just hexed a group of sixth-year Slytherins who had been tormenting a terrified first-year Hufflepuff. They’d slunk away, their swollen noses and fingers flapping about uselessly as they retreated. Normally, he’d have felt triumphant, a rush of adrenaline and pride at having stood up to them, but today it left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Where are the bloody prefects when you need them?!” he muttered, still seething as he helped the Hufflepuff back to his feet. The kid mumbled his thanks, eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe before scampering off towards the kitchens. It made James’s blood boil, seeing how scared the younger students were. Hogwarts was supposed to be a safe haven, a place where every student could learn and grow without feeling like they were constantly under threat. And where were the prefects—the ones who were supposed to keep them all safe? Nowhere to be found.

“I think even the prefects are scared,” Sirius replied, leaning lazily against the wall, looking more bored than bothered, though James knew better. Beneath that casual exterior, Sirius was just as furious. “Cowards.”

“Yeah, well, what can they do?” Remus chimed in, ever the voice of reason, though there was a sharp edge to his tone. “All they can do is hand out detentions and take House points. The Slytherins don’t give a toss about that anymore. I heard Mulciber last week, spouting off about how they should all put up with ‘trivial punishments for the promise of a greater reward.’”

“Mulciber said that?” Sirius arched an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Bloody hell, he’s more eloquent than I gave him credit for.”

“Or he’s just parroting something he overheard,” James replied, watching the Hufflepuff disappear around the corner. The sight made something hot and angry twist in his chest. It wasn’t right. None of this was right. Students shouldn’t have to look over their shoulders just to feel safe walking down a corridor. He clenched his fists, the anger simmering just below the surface. Someone had to do something.

“What d’you reckon the reward is?” Peter asked, his voice smaller than usual, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. He was scuffing his toe on the flagstones, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Money? Power? Immortality?” Sirius guessed, pushing off the wall with a sigh and swaggering down the corridor as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But James could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened. “Godric knows. They won’t get it, though.”

“Why not?” Peter asked, his curiosity tinged with genuine fear.

“Because, Petey-boy,” James said, his voice steady and sure, clapping Peter on the back with more force than necessary, “we’re going to win. We have to.”

It wasn’t just bravado. James meant it with every fibre of his being. They had to win—because if they didn’t, the world they all knew and loved, the world where magic was something wonderful and awe-inspiring, would be lost to something dark and twisted. And James Potter wasn’t about to let that happen. Not on his watch. Not while there was still breath in his body to fight.

* * *

By the end of September, it was clear: none of the Marauders had managed to get a snog, and James was more than a bit miffed about it. If anyone was going to win the bet, he’d put his Galleons on Sirius—he was practically irresistible, after all. But Sirius, as it turned out, was being surprisingly picky. He kept insisting he was in the lead because a few girls had shown interest, including some Effie Scunthorpe from Remus’s Care of Magical Creatures class. But none of them were, as he put it, "quite up to par." Ten Galleons was nothing to sneeze at, but Sirius seemed intent on dragging out the competition, as if savouring every moment of it. James was certain Sirius was just being an arse, enjoying the suspense.

James, on the other hand, had it much worse. He was completely hung up on Lily Evans. If he was going to kiss anyone, it had to be her—there was no question about it. The problem with that, of course, was that his determination often led to him making an absolute fool of himself whenever she was within arm’s length. And with Lily, she was always within arm’s length but just out of reach.

It was the worst during Potions. James had taken to giving Lily so much attention that it visibly drove Snivellus mad. Snape hunched over his cauldron, glaring at James from behind those greasy curtains of hair, but James didn’t care. He had a plan.

“Give us a snog, Evans!” James had shouted during their first Potions lesson of the year. It wasn’t exactly the most sophisticated approach, but he was trying to be bold, confident. The result? A death glare from Snape, an exasperated eye-roll from Remus, who was unfortunately partnered with Lily that day, and, perhaps worst of all, an expression of utter horror from Lily herself. 

She didn’t waste time. With a fierce swish of her wand, Lily sent James and Sirius’s cauldron flipping over, spilling its contents right onto their heads. The potion had been a particularly tricky one, and for the next week, both boys were stained a vivid shade of blue. The laughter that followed them everywhere stung more than the dye, but James did his best to laugh it off. What else could he do? He wasn’t about to let it show that it bothered him.

The moment the dye had finally worn off, he was back at it. This time, though, he decided a different approach was needed. His dad, Fleamont, suggested he try complimenting Lily. Sound advice, James thought. Women like compliments, don’t they? So, he marched into Slughorn’s classroom ready to try his new strategy, confidence practically oozing out of him.

“I really like your hair,” he said, trying to sound as suave as possible, as soon as Lily walked past him to her workbench.

“Mm,” Lily replied, not even bothering to look his way. Sirius, standing nearby, snickered.

“Yeah, it’s so… um… ginger,” James added, his confidence faltering slightly. There was an awkward pause, and James felt the heat rise in his cheeks. 

Lily suddenly turned to him, a sweet smile on her face, and James’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe this was it! Maybe she was finally warming up to him!

“Like it that much, do you?” she asked, her tone sugar-coated. Sirius’s snickering abruptly stopped, and James noticed Remus taking a careful step back. Sirius followed suit, a smirk playing on his lips.

But James was so caught up in Lily’s sudden attention that he didn’t notice any of it. He nodded eagerly, thrilled she was finally engaging with him, and started to respond, “Oh yeah, I think it’s—”

“Rufusio!” Lily whispered, her wand darting out before James could finish.

There was a split-second of stunned silence before Sirius let out a bark of laughter that echoed around the room. Even Remus was struggling not to laugh, a hand clapped over his mouth. Half the class turned to see what was going on, alerted by the commotion, and James just stared in confusion. Why was everyone laughing?

Finally, Marlene took pity on him and handed over her compact mirror. One look, and James’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. His hair—his usually unruly, windswept, perfect-for-Quidditch hair—was now as bright red as Lily’s. 

For the next two days, Sirius called him every rude nickname under the sun—“ginger nut” and “carrot top” were the favourites. James tried to laugh along, but Merlin, it was hard to shake the embarrassment. He was used to being the centre of attention, but not like this. And definitely not with bright red hair. Still, he wasn’t about to give up. Not on Lily. 

“Just got to be patient,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his now red locks, trying to smooth them down as best he could. “Nothing worth having isn’t worth waiting for.”

“It’s kind of impressive,” Sirius stage-whispered to the other Marauders, “I almost don’t want to win the bet, ‘cos he’s made it too easy.”

“Yeah,” James snorted, shooting Sirius a mock glare, “That’s why.”

“Oh, suck it, copper knob.”

Chapter Text

When Lily’s kisses proved to be nowhere in sight, James was the first to suggest they extend the bet to last the whole year. He wasn’t about to give up on winning Lily over—he just needed more time, didn’t he? But Sirius, never one to be outdone, raised the stakes by proposing they double the Galleons, which made Peter turn a ghastly shade of pale. Predictably, Remus voiced his disapproval of the entire affair and insisted on being excluded from the bet altogether, though he couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Now, James knew full well that Sirius didn’t need the extra time to win this bet. If he’d wanted, Sirius could’ve easily gotten a snog back in September—he reminded James of this fact at every possible opportunity. Effie Scunthorpe was still giving Remus the eye, and Sirius had even received a couple of notes from other girls who were keen to get to know him better. By all measures, Sirius was miles ahead of the rest of the Marauders in this ridiculous competition.

The problem was, Sirius had standards. He wasn’t about to snog just any girl who batted her lashes his way. Most of the girls who showed interest were, well, annoying. James could see it too—there was something about the simpering, the incessant giggling, or the over-the-top blushing that got under Sirius’s skin. Sure, the attention was flattering, but Sirius was quickly learning that once girls decided they fancied you, they started acting a bit thick. James found it all rather amusing, really. There wasn’t any fun in it for Sirius; where was the challenge? And that was something James admired about him—Sirius wasn’t just looking for any snog; he wanted it to mean something. It was a sentiment James could relate to, especially when it came to Lily.

Still, Sirius was never one to shy away from attention, and James could tell he quite enjoyed knowing that his dashing good looks were appreciated around the castle. It was almost entertaining to watch Sirius bask in the admiration, even if he pretended to be indifferent. James reckoned Sirius deserved it, too. He had that certain charm that drew people in, and it was nice to see others recognizing it. But deep down, James couldn’t help but wish his own attempts to impress Lily were half as successful.

October began and ended with a full moon that year, which James thought was incredibly unfair, especially since it meant Remus would miss the Hallowe’en feast. Despite this, the weather was unseasonably warm, and the Marauders spent most of their free time enjoying the grounds under a fair blue sky. The golden reds and browns of autumn painted Hogwarts in an even more magical light than usual. James felt a pang of guilt knowing Remus couldn’t fully enjoy it with them, but he was determined to make the most of the beautiful weather and do whatever he could to keep Remus’s spirits up.

On the weekends, James spent most of his time on the Quidditch pitch, either practising or trying out new manoeuvres. The rest of the Marauders usually watched from the stands, cheering him on. Peter often ended up as the stand-in Keeper, and James could tell he felt self-conscious about it. They had to cheer him on loudly from the sidelines to keep him from turning into a nervous wreck. James appreciated their support, and he knew it helped Peter feel more confident, but he wished Peter could see just how much his effort was valued.

Sirius, however, couldn’t sit still during these sessions. James noticed his friend constantly shifting between trying to focus on his homework, hopping on his broom for an impromptu race, and scribbling down complex tactical plays that he thought the Gryffindor team should use in their first game, scheduled for November. James found Sirius’s energy infectious and appreciated his enthusiasm for the game, even if it sometimes distracted him from practice. The tactical plays were often brilliant, and James made a mental note to discuss them with the Captain.

“We’ve got to thrash Slytherin this year,” Sirius insisted, his blue eyes flashing with determination. “Got to show ‘em.”

Slytherin had won the Quidditch Cup the year before, and it was a sore point for Gryffindors—particularly for Sirius, since both Narcissa and Regulus had been on the winning team. This year, it was only Regulus, who had replaced his older cousin as Seeker. James was well aware of this, having kept a close eye on Slytherin’s team lineup. Sirius hadn’t mentioned anything about it, but James could tell it bothered him. James was determined to reclaim the Cup this year, not just for Gryffindor, but to give Sirius something to smile about and to show Regulus that Gryffindor was still the team to beat.

One afternoon, James was crouched by the edge of the Quidditch pitch, watching the practice session with a critical eye. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, casting a warm glow over the grounds, and the air was filled with the whoosh of brooms and the thud of Bludgers being hit. Sirius was leaning on the barrier, deep in conversation with Marlene, who had just taken a break.

James squinted as he noticed Sirius gesticulating animatedly, clearly giving Marlene some advice. From where he was, he could just make out the gist of their exchange. Marlene looked exasperated, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, and James saw her snap something back at Sirius. He couldn’t hear the exact words, but the tone was unmistakable. Sirius looked a bit uncomfortable, and Marlene seemed more and more irritated.

James straightened up and called out, “Oi, Marlene! Come over here for a sec!”

Marlene shot Sirius one last irritated look before trudging over to James. Her cheeks were flushed from the exercise, and her face was set in a frown that made her look both tired and annoyed.

“Hey, Jamie,” she greeted, though her voice was laced with frustration. “What’s up?”

“Thought you could use a break,” James said, giving her a reassuring grin. “Sirius getting on your nerves again?”

Marlene rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a small smile. “You could say that. He’s got this thing about telling me how to hit Bludgers. And honestly, if I hear ‘you’ve only got yourself to beat’ one more time, I might just start using him as a Bludger.”

James chuckled, taking a step closer. “Yeah, I know how Sirius can be. He means well, though. Sometimes it’s like he’s trying to get under your skin just to see if he can.”

“Well, it’s not always fun being on the receiving end of it. Especially when I’m trying to focus,” Marlene muttered, though her irritation seemed to be fading. She was still catching her breath, wiping sweat from her brow.

James leaned against the barrier, looking at her with genuine concern. “You okay, Marley? I know practice has been intense lately. We’ve got the match coming up, and I’m pushing everyone hard.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, though she looked a bit weary. “Just a bit of a rough day. You know how it is.”

James nodded, fully aware of how demanding Quidditch practice could be. “Well, if you need a break, I’m always here for a chat. Or a laugh. Or a quick snack run if you’re up for it.”

Marlene’s smile widened, her frustration easing away. “That actually sounds pretty good. I could use a break from the brooms and Bludgers.”

“Perfect,” James said, flashing her a cheeky grin. “Let’s grab something from the kitchens. I’ve got a feeling the elves have whipped up something special.”

Marlene laughed, her mood lifting. “You and your endless appetite. Let’s go, Jamie.”

As they walked away from the pitch, James glanced back and caught Sirius and Remus in conversation. Sirius had resumed his position leaning on the barrier, staring off into the distance, while Remus stood nearby, his breath visible in the crisp air. James could tell from Sirius’s posture that he was brooding over something, probably still caught up in the earlier conversation with Marlene. James hoped that taking Marlene away for a bit of downtime would ease the tension and give everyone a breather.

“By the way, Marley,” James said as they headed towards the castle, “Don’t let Sirius get to you too much. He’s just trying to help, even if he’s got a funny way of showing it.”

Marlene gave him a grateful look. “Thanks, Jamie. I know you’ve got my back.”

James smiled warmly. “Always. Now, let’s get those snacks before Sirius decides he’s ready to compete in a baking contest or something.”

That Tuesday, James was practically buzzing with excitement as he showed up for the Gryffindor Quidditch trials, his broom clutched in hand, a bounce in his step. It was clear that Sirius was feeling the pressure, and James could see the nervousness in his friend’s eyes. The thought of Sirius not making the team did make him uneasy. James knew he’d have to work hard to mask any disappointment if that happened, but he couldn’t let Sirius see how much it would affect him.

However, he didn’t have to worry for long. Two hours later, Gryffindor had its new Beater.

James had to admit, as he watched Sirius get ready for the Quidditch trials, that there was one glaring difference between them—Sirius had all the passion in the world, but he seriously lacked the discipline that James prided himself on. It wasn’t like this was news or anything; James had noticed it before, especially in the mornings. Sirius was the sort who’d saunter out of bed with the absolute bare minimum effort, his hair a complete mess and his uniform just this side of dishevelled. And today was no different.

“Wakey, wakey!” James sang out cheerfully as he emerged from the bathroom, his hair plastered flat to his head only because it was still soaking wet. He had a habit of getting ready with the sort of gusto Sirius could never quite muster that early in the day.

Sirius groaned loudly, burying himself deeper into the covers as James yanked the curtains to his four-poster bed open. The sunlight streamed in, and Sirius promptly tried to hide from it.

A week after the trials, James was feeling pretty chuffed with how everything had turned out—well, at least until he started seeing Sirius’s face every morning. It was becoming a bit of a routine now: James would haul himself out of bed before the sun had properly risen, and he’d insist on getting Sirius and the other lads up for early-morning Quidditch drills. None of them were particularly keen, but Sirius… Sirius was beginning to look at James like he was seriously considering how best to murder him in his sleep.

It wasn’t that James didn’t notice. He could see the way Sirius’s usually sharp features softened with exhaustion, his eyes glazed over with that all-too-familiar mix of sleepiness and annoyance. Every time James went over to wake him, Sirius’s expression morphed from peaceful slumber to a sort of resigned frustration, like he was internally debating whether this friendship was really worth it. 

James, of course, was undeterred. If they were going to beat Slytherin this year, they needed to be in top form. And James firmly believed that these early practices—no matter how much they annoyed Sirius—were absolutely essential. Besides, James was finding the discipline and the early start rather invigorating, even if Sirius wasn’t. But then again, James liked the idea of being prepared, of having everything just so. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed to think the universe would just sort itself out.

“Piss off, Potter,” Sirius mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow he’d pulled over his head.

“Oh, come on, you wanted to be on the team, didn’t you? Sirius me ol’ chum, up you get…” James grinned mischievously, drawing his wand. “Levicorpus!”

Sirius’s body suddenly flew into the air, yanked by some invisible force, and he was left hanging upside down in mid-air, his hair flopping towards the floor. James burst out laughing, doubling over with glee. “I can’t believe that worked! Been trying to do that since last Christmas!”

Sirius swung around helplessly, his pyjama top slipping down towards his shoulders. “Let me down, you wanker!”

“Be nice!” James chided, still laughing.

“Potter, I swear—let me down!”

“Finite,” James said, waving his wand and watching as Sirius crashed onto the floor with a loud thud. He leapt up immediately, rubbing the arm he’d landed on, his eyes gleaming with something between irritation and excitement.

“Bloody hell!” Sirius shouted, suddenly grinning from ear to ear, the sleepiness gone in an instant. “That was amazing! Now let me do it to you.”

James looked at him, still grinning like a fool. “Okay!”

* * *

They spent a rather excellent ten minutes levitating each other, each attempt more ridiculous than the last, until Remus began to look properly grumpy, clearing his throat in that meaningful way that James had come to recognise as the “enough now” signal. James couldn’t help but chuckle at Moony’s predictability; it was like clockwork. Still, he knew better than to push Remus too far when he was in that mood. Eventually, they all got the hint, stopping their impromptu levitation contest, and agreed to head down to breakfast.

As soon as they were settled at the Gryffindor table, Sirius resumed his relentless campaign to talk James out of his so-called “Quidditch madness,” as he liked to put it.

“Just one day off a week, Potter. I’m begging you!” Sirius moaned, his eyes barely open as he slumped over his breakfast.

James felt a flicker of sympathy for his best mate but swiftly pushed it aside. “You’re the one who wants to destroy Slytherin,” he pointed out with absolutely no sympathy in his voice, humming cheerfully to himself as he buttered some toast. He slid the plate over to Sirius in a half-hearted attempt at peacekeeping, but Sirius just shut his eyes tighter and turned away like a petulant child.

James sighed, trying to muster a bit of patience. “It’s not just for you, either. The whole school wants to see them beaten. Think of it as doing your bit for the war effort.”

“I thought you were doing your bit by hexing them in the corridors,” Remus interjected, sounding mildly amused.

“Exactly,” Sirius grunted, his voice muffled as he tried to nap with his head propped up on his hands. “And that can be done at a reasonable hour.”

James could feel his patience starting to slip. “This is the only time we can fit practices in,” he said firmly, trying to keep his tone even. “There’s no point going after dark, the pitch gets booked up in the evenings, and lessons start at nine.”

“Even if they started at twelve, you’d have trouble getting Sirius up,” Peter chimed in, his voice garbled with food. James didn’t need to look to know that Pete's cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk’s.

“We should get Time-Turners,” Sirius muttered, yawning and looking utterly miserable. “Students who need their beauty sleep should be issued with them.”

“What’s a Time-Turner?” Remus asked, curiosity piqued.

“Turns back time, obviously,” Sirius replied, looking as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“They’re illegal,” James added quickly, leaning in a bit. “Without Ministry permission, that is. And really, really dangerous.”

“I’m dangerous if I don’t get enough sleep,” Sirius grumbled, rubbing his eyes as if to make his point.

“Matron used to make us all get up at six on weekends,” Remus mused, his tone drifting into reminiscence as he picked at his breakfast. “She thought it was healthy, or something. One of the older boys got into her room once and fiddled with her alarm clock, though, and we got away with an extra two hours in bed every day for a week before she noticed.”

James chuckled at the thought, genuinely impressed. “Muggles are bloody ingenious,” he said, giving Remus an approving nod. “But stay away from my alarm clock, Moony. I mean it.”

“Mmm,” Remus murmured, clearly deep in thought. James recognized that familiar look on his friend’s face—brow furrowed, lower lip poking out slightly. It was a sure sign that Remus was off in his own world, probably pondering something obscure.

“Oh no, we’ve lost him,” Sirius said with a dry smile. “Probably daydreaming about Nogtails and Nifflers again—I swear Care of Magical Creatures is the only subject he cares about these days.”

“Leave Moony alone and eat your breakfast,” James said, trying to keep the focus on more pressing matters. “I want you on the pitch in five minutes.”

“Fine…” Sirius sighed dramatically, turning his attention to his plate at last. But his expression quickly turned from resignation to surprise. “Oi! Where’s my breakfast?”

Before James could respond, Remus stood up abruptly. “Got to go,” he said, his voice brisk. “Library. See you in Potions.”

James watched Remus hurry off, shaking his head in mild amusement. “He never changes, does he?” he remarked, half to himself. But his thoughts quickly returned to the task at hand. “Hurry up and eat, Black. We’ve got work to do.”

Sirius looked like he was about to make some snarky retort, probably about James's obsessive work ethic, but instead, he glanced down at his empty plate and groaned. “That bloody thief,” he muttered, glaring in the direction Remus had gone.

James couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. His friends were a handful, but they made life at Hogwarts endlessly entertaining. “Come on, you can have some of mine,” he said, sliding his plate over to Sirius with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius grumbled, but he was smiling now too, even as he snatched a piece of toast from James's plate. “Let’s just get this over with.”

James grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

Chapter Text

"Oi, Black, ease up a bit!"

"Oh, piss off, Cadoc! If you weren't falling asleep on your broom, maybe—"

"Sirius!"

"Black!"

James cut him off just as Harpreet Singh, Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain, bellowed his name from the goalposts, his usually calm expression now twisted into a ferocious glare.

"What?! If he can't dodge the Bludgers on Sunday, how d'you expect—"

"That's enough!"

Singh abandoned his spot by the rings, flying over to Sirius with the speed of someone who was absolutely done with everyone’s nonsense. He hovered just inches from Sirius, close enough to make his glare that much more effective.

"I want you flying laps until you’ve calmed down enough to work as a team. You’re not the only one on the field, Black—unless you get that through your thick skull, we haven’t got a chance against Ravenclaw. Now go!"

James watched as Sirius scowled, his face a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. But wisely, he kept his mouth shut—something he didn’t often do, which was probably a good sign he knew he’d crossed a line. Singh wasn’t one to shout unless it was truly necessary, and when he did, everyone knew it was time to fall in line. James had always respected Singh for that—a bloke who could keep his cool even when managing a team of rowdy Gryffindors. But even Singh had his work cut out for him with Sirius, who, despite his immense talent, had a bit of a habit of letting his emotions run the show.

Sirius handed over his Beater’s bat to Singh and made his way to the outer edge of the pitch, flying off to burn some of the frantic energy that had been making everyone’s life difficult this week. James sighed, watching him go. He could sense the tension among the rest of the team, their eyes flicking warily towards Sirius as he shot around the field. They were all wondering if he’d be ready for Sunday’s match, and James knew that only added to the pressure Sirius was already putting on himself. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy, though it was mixed with a bit of frustration. Sirius had a lot to prove—mostly to himself—and it was making things harder for everyone else.

By the time Singh called for a break, Sirius’s hair was plastered to his forehead, and he looked thoroughly knackered. He landed with a heavy thud, standing off to the side, panting and glaring at the ground as if it had personally offended him. James landed beside him, equally winded but trying to keep things light.

"Alright, mate?" James asked, already knowing the answer but hoping to coax Sirius out of his foul mood.

Sirius grunted, not looking up, clearly annoyed with himself.

"Come on, don’t pout," James teased, nudging him with his elbow.

Sirius grimaced. "I am not pouting!" he snapped, sounding thoroughly affronted.

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am n—Oi, quit it!"

James grinned, poking Sirius in the side each time he repeated himself, determined to break through the grumpiness. There was something almost therapeutic about winding Sirius up like this, knowing that the banter would eventually pull him out of his own head. Sirius was trying desperately to keep a straight face, but James could see the laughter bubbling up despite his best efforts.

"Are!"

"Not!"

"Are!"

"Not!"

"Are!"

"Not! Get back here, Potter!"

James darted out of Sirius’s reach, laughing as he did so, which only encouraged Sirius to give chase. Their brief scuffle ended with Sirius pinning James to the ground, sitting on his chest while James gasped for breath, still laughing too hard to properly fight back.

"I yield, I yield!" James wheezed, still grinning. "C'mon, I can't breathe!"

Sirius finally stood, offering James a hand up with a smug grin. They both grinned at each other, the earlier tension forgotten—until the unmistakable sound of Harpreet Singh clearing his throat brought them back to reality.

"Alright, lads?"

James turned to see that their little scuffle had drawn the attention of the entire team, who were all watching with varying degrees of amusement. Singh’s expression was a mix of tolerance and mild amusement, while Marlene just rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed.

James jogged over to rejoin the team, casting a quick glance at Sirius. "Oi, Cadoc!"

The Chaser turned, looking wary. James nudged Sirius with his elbow.

"Sorry for being a tosser," Sirius said, not quite meeting Cadoc’s eyes.

There was a brief moment where everyone held their breath, waiting to see how Cadoc would respond. Then, to James’s relief, the older boy smiled.

"Just make sure you send those Bludgers at the other team on Sunday, yeah?"

Sirius rolled his eyes but laughed, the tension finally dissipating. Singh looked visibly relieved as he gestured for everyone to gather around so he could go over the flying formations for the Ravenclaw match.

As Singh began outlining the strategy, James felt a swell of pride. Sirius might be a handful, but he was their handful, and it was good to see him smoothing things over. James’s mind was already racing through the tactics they’d use against Ravenclaw, convinced that with everyone on the same page, they had a real shot at winning.

As Singh wrapped up, James caught Marlene’s eye, giving her a thumbs-up. She smiled back, though it was more tired than enthusiastic.

The rest of the practice went much more smoothly, with no more wild Bludgers or heated arguments. By the time they were all landing and ready to head back in, the team was in high spirits. James watched as Sirius sauntered over to Marlene, flipping his hair out of his face in that way he always did when he was about to say something he thought was particularly charming.

"Nice flying today, McKinnon," Sirius said, all casual-like.

"Oh… thanks, Sirius," Marlene replied, a bit wary of where this was going.

"How about a kiss for luck?"

James barely managed to stifle a snicker as Marlene’s eyes widened, her face turning an impressive shade of red.

"Er… what?" she stammered, clearly flustered.

Sirius waggled his eyebrows. "Y’know, a classic good-luck snog. Beater to Beater. In honour of our upcoming match."

James couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, drawing Marlene’s attention.

"Is this some sort of joke?" she demanded, frowning suspiciously.

"McKinnon!" Sirius exclaimed, clutching his heart dramatically. "You wound me! I make my request with nothing but the purest of intentions, I assure you."

But James’s laughter somewhat ruined the effect of Sirius’s grand performance. Marlene scowled, rolling her eyes and muttering something under her breath as she stomped off, still blushing furiously.

"Trying to sabotage me, Potter?" Sirius accused, narrowing his eyes at James.

"Oh, please. I think you’ve got that covered all on your own, mate. Marlene McKinnon, seriously?" James shot back, still grinning.

"Just wait, oh ye of little faith," Sirius said, reaching over to ruffle James’s hair, which only made it messier. "She’ll be succumbing to my irresistible charms before you know it."

James chuckled, shaking his head. "Keep dreaming, Black. Meanwhile, let’s focus on that match. We need you in top form."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now, the earlier tension well and truly behind them. "Yeah, yeah. But don’t think I’m giving up on McKinnon. Just you wait."

James just laughed again, giving Sirius a playful shove as they headed back towards the castle with the rest of the team. 

* * *

"GO, GO, GRYFFINDOR, GO!" The chants from the stands were thunderous, rolling over the pitch like a wave as James stepped out onto the field. His heart swelled with pride, his grin widening as he caught sight of his friends up in the crowd, their voices lost in the collective roar. He spotted Remus among them, his normally reserved mate joining in with the chanting, and it made James's grin stretch even further. Beside Remus, Peter was flailing his scarf around like a madman, nearly taking out a few first-years in his enthusiasm. James chuckled, knowing that Peter's antics were probably the only thing keeping Remus from feeling embarrassed about showing some school spirit.

James’s gaze drifted to Sirius, and he could see the transformation happening before his eyes. Where there had been nerves and doubt, now there was only raw exhilaration. Sirius was practically vibrating with energy, like he was more lightning bolt than boy, and the sight of it was infectious. James couldn’t help but grin, feeling a rush of affection and pride for his best mate. It hadn’t been an easy road for Sirius, not by a long shot, but here he was, ready to take on the world—or at least the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

When Madam Hooch blew her whistle, Sirius was off like a shot, launching himself into the air with such speed that James swore he could feel the rush of wind in his own hair. He was reckless, no doubt about it, but that was Sirius all over. James watched him go, a surge of pride swelling in his chest. This was exactly what the team needed—someone with enough fire to set the pitch alight.

As the teams took to the skies, James scanned the stands, feeling a surge of adrenaline as he took in the sea of colours. Half the crowd was decked out in Ravenclaw blue, the other half in Gryffindor scarlet, and the noise was deafening—a cacophony of boos, cheers, and chants that sent a thrill through his veins. This was what he lived for, the rush of competition, the feeling of being at the centre of it all.

James darted through the air, his wild mop of hair undoubtedly marking him out even amidst the chaos. He couldn’t help but feel a touch of vanity—he rather liked that everyone could spot him from a mile away. He glanced over at Sirius and Marlene, the two Beaters making a formidable pair despite their contrasting styles. Marlene, ever the strategist, stuck close to the players she was guarding, ready to intercept any incoming Bludgers. It was a methodical, defensive approach, and James had always respected her for it. But Sirius—well, Sirius was never one to follow a script. He was zipping across the pitch with all the finesse of a rogue Bludger himself, aiming to knock anything that moved out of the game before it could cause trouble.

James felt a surge of excitement as he weaved through the Ravenclaw players, the Quaffle snug in his grip. The commentator’s voice crackled over the loudspeakers, barely audible over the roar of the crowd, but James caught the tail end of her announcement with a smirk. “This is Black’s first game, and he’s obviously throwing himself into it. No doubt he’s received plenty of coaching from Potter—who’s just scored the first goal! That’s Gryffindor in the lead with ten points!”

James grinned as he darted down the pitch, expertly dodging a Bludger that whizzed past his ear. The goalposts loomed ahead, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he sent the Quaffle soaring through the centre hoop, the crowd erupting in cheers as it sailed clean through.

The commentator’s voice droned on, “As I was saying, lots of talent on the Gryffindor side this year—Potter, of course, and McKinnon, who’s one of the best Beaters the Reds have had in years, and now Sirius Black, the black sheep of a bonafide Quidditch dynasty. You’ll remember his cousin, Narcissa Black of Slytherin, one of the finest Seekers Hogwarts has ever seen, and of course the younger Black brother, Regulus, who has taken Narcissa’s place after a season as Chaser. Rumour has it that there’s bad blood in the Black clan, so you can bet the Gryffindor-Slytherin match next term is going to be—”

James rolled his eyes just as McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the commentator’s gossip. “If you would please focus on the game currently in progress, Miss Darcy!”

“Sorry, Professor! So that’s Dunelm of Ravenclaw in possession of the Quaffle, she shoots, she—oooh, and it’s a bad miss…”

James refocused on the match, his earlier irritation fading as he watched Sirius in action. There was an aggressive edge to his movements, a determination that James recognised all too well. It was the same fire that drove Sirius to prove himself time and time again, especially with so much at stake. James felt a pang of pride as he watched his friend hold his own, realising that all his earlier worries had been for nothing. Sirius might not wear his love for Quidditch on his sleeve the way some of the others did, but when it came down to it, he was all in.

By the end of the match, Gryffindor had won with a score of 300-100, the Seeker having caught the Snitch in spectacular fashion. The victory was sweet, the first win of the season always was, and James felt a rush of satisfaction as he watched his teammates celebrating. Sirius, ever the charmer, tried to wrap an arm around Marlene’s shoulders, only to be swiftly dodged as she offered her cheek for a kiss instead.

James couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within him as he watched Sirius’s mock indignation. “You’re hopeless, Black,” he called out, still grinning.

Sirius shot him a look, half exasperation, half amusement. “And yet, here I am, victorious and charming as ever. You’ll see, Potter—I’ll win her over yet.”

James just shook his head, still chuckling as the team began to make their way off the pitch, the cheers of the crowd echoing in their ears. It was moments like this that James cherished, the camaraderie, the thrill of the game, the sense of being part of something bigger than himself. As they walked back to the castle, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, James couldn’t help but feel that life was pretty bloody brilliant.

* * *

The common room that evening was a riot of red and gold, a veritable sea of Gryffindor pride pulsing with the beat of rock music and brimming with unrestrained energy. James felt an overwhelming swell of pride—Gryffindor had just clinched a glorious victory, and to top it off, it was Sirius's birthday. It was a double celebration, and the whole room seemed to be vibrating with the buzz of the occasion.

James watched with a wide grin as Sirius, looking every bit the Quidditch star he’d just proven himself to be, soaked up the congratulations for both his performance and his birthday. Sirius was in his element, a celestial figure basking in the glory of the moment. The older students had brought along a selection of mysterious bottles and flasks, and James couldn't help but chuckle as Sirius took a few swigs, only to splutter and cough at the burning sensation. The room erupted in laughter, Sirius grinning sheepishly as he was patted on the back with knowing smiles. James had sampled a few drinks himself earlier, feeling the warm buzz of alcohol enhance the evening’s joy.

In the midst of the revelry, James and Sirius were practically radiant, roaring with laughter and absorbing the cheers from their classmates. Each slap on the back, each cheer that echoed through the room, sent a thrilling rush through James. This was the life—victory, camaraderie, and the sheer euphoria of celebration. He noticed Peter lurking nearby, close enough to bask in the glow of the festivities but far enough not to feel overwhelmed. James smiled, glad that Peter was getting a slice of the limelight.

After a good stretch of basking in the praise, Sirius turned his attention to his birthday presents. James watched with a mix of anticipation and amusement as Sirius began unwrapping his gifts. First up was the broom repair kit James had given him, and Sirius's face lit up with genuine appreciation. Next was Peter’s gift—a mountain of chocolate that James suspected Peter hoped would be consumed with great enthusiasm. But the real excitement came when Sirius unwrapped the three albums from Andromeda: Dark Side of the Moon, Country Life (the cover of which featured two scantily clad women, prompting a round of smirks and passing amongst the boys), and Diamond Dogs. James felt a surge of pride at Sirius's delighted reaction to the gifts, and the other presents only added to the atmosphere of cheerful chaos.

“Oh!” Remus exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement as he held up one of the records with a sense of reverence. The bizarre, nightmarish artwork seemed to have bewitched him. “Put this one on first? Please?”

James watched as Sirius, clearly unable to refuse Remus’s enthusiasm, obliged with a grin. “Anything for you, Moony!” he said, carefully placing the record on the turntable.

The record player emitted a howl that sent a shiver down James’s spine—a cry reminiscent of a wolf. He exchanged a surprised glance with Sirius, both of them taken aback. Sirius's initial surprise quickly morphed into a smile as David Bowie’s voice began to fill the room, weaving an incantation of sorts:

And in the death…

As the last few corpses lay rotting on the slimy thoroughfare,

The shutters lifted in inches in Temperance Building,

High on Poacher’s Hill,

And red, mutant eyes gaze down on Hunger City…

The common room fell into an uneasy silence as the grim, unsettling lyrics reverberated through the space. James glanced around, sensing the tension that hung in the air like a thick fog. The mood was shifting, the atmosphere growing heavy with discomfort and intrigue. He could see Remus, deeply engrossed, his face a mask of dark fascination. As the final lines of the song rang out, the intensity in the room reached a peak:

This ain’t Rock’n’Roll!

This is genocide!

* * *

"But Peter understands it’s a whole month, right?” Sirius whispered, his voice edging towards irritation. James glanced around the dark dormitory, making sure the other occupants were still asleep as he and Sirius delved into their Animagi plans once again. James was torn between frustration and concern; Peter hadn’t exactly read the instructions with the meticulousness required and had muddled up some things with the mandrake leaves.

“Thirty days, that’s right,” James confirmed, trying to maintain a calm tone. “If we do it over the summer…”

“You forgot the Silencing Spell, you idiots,” Remus’s voice cut through the silence.

“Bugger!” Sirius swore under his breath, shooting a panicked glance at James as he fumbled for the curtains. How much had Remus heard?!

It was well past midnight, and both James and Sirius had assumed that Remus would be sound asleep. The party had been broken up ages ago by the prefects, and all four Marauders had climbed the stairs, changed for bed, and bid each other goodnight. James thought their whispering had been discreet enough, but apparently, Sirius had been less subtle than he’d thought when he sneaked into James’s bed. Remus, despite his yawns, hadn’t been as knackered as he’d led them to believe.

Sirius and Remus poked their heads out from behind their respective curtains at the same time.

“Sorry, Moony,” Sirius grinned sheepishly, “Did we wake you?”

“Nah,” Remus replied nonchalantly, “Actually, I was just thinking about a new prank…”

“Prank?!” James’s head joined Sirius’s in the gap between the curtains. “Who said prank?!”

James’s curiosity was piqued. He always enjoyed hearing about Remus’s clever ideas—his pranks were legendary for their ingenuity. Eager to hear more, he magnanimously opened the bed curtains further, “Please, Mr. Moony,” he said, “Step into our office…”

Remus’s face brightened as he settled on James’s bed, his bony knee bumping into Sirius’s shin.

“Well?” James prompted, holding his lit wand out like a microphone. “Spill the beans!”

“Hold your horses,” Remus huffed, drawing out his own wand. “Muffliato!”

“He’s too clever for us,” Sirius commented dryly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Indeed.” James nodded, grinning.

Remus ignored their banter, rolling his eyes before focusing again. “Remember how I was telling you about Matron’s alarm clock?” he began, speaking in a low, conspiratorial tone. James and Sirius nodded eagerly, their heads bobbing in unison. “And how we used to tamper with it to get out of early mornings?” More nodding. “Well, I was thinking about how we could apply that idea to Hogwarts. I did a bit of research, and did you know that all the clocks at this school are controlled by one master clock? The big one outside the Great Hall.”

“Oh, MOONY!” Sirius exclaimed dramatically, throwing himself at Remus so they both tumbled backwards onto the bed. He flung his arms around Remus’s shoulders, pretending to sob tears of joy into his friend’s shoulder.

James watched with amusement as Sirius carried on with his over-the-top antics. “You’ve actually read Hogwarts: A History! One of you has finally cracked it! You’re now my favourite Marauder!” Sirius declared.

“Get off, you prat!” Remus growled, pushing Sirius away. Sirius, caught off guard, pulled back, and Remus took the chance to shuffle further back on the bed, while James roared with laughter.

“No one would ever guess you’re the oldest, Black,” James teased. “Moony, please continue. The big clock…?”

“Right, right,” Remus said, smoothing out his nightshirt, clearly embarrassed by the attention. “So… I had this idea. I…”

“The big clock controls all the others,” Sirius interjected helpfully. “It’s a spell that ensures every clock and watch in the castle is perfectly synchronized. Even Muggle clocks we bring in get reset. It’s a brilliant piece of magic.”

“Exactly,” Remus nodded, regaining his train of thought. “So I’m thinking; if we could move that clock forward by just five minutes each night, then all the clocks in the castle would be out of sync. It would mess with lesson times, meals, basically the entire schedule of the school. And if we start really slowly—say, five minutes a night—no one would notice for ages. I mean, how could anyone spot it if all the clocks are showing the same time?”

As Remus finished explaining, James adjusted his glasses, his mind whirring as he processed the plan. It was brilliant—a classic Marauder manoeuvre that would cause delightful chaos without direct confrontation. Sirius was practically bouncing with excitement, hardly able to contain himself. When Remus looked at him, Sirius burst out with,

“Our Moony’s done it again!”

James felt a swell of pride for Remus’s ingenuity. “This is going to be epic,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hogwarts won’t know what hit it.”

Chapter Text

Monday 4th November 1974

“I dunno,” Peter said, wringing his hands nervously. “Professor McGonagall says we shouldn’t mess about with time.”

“We won’t be,” Sirius groaned, clearly exasperated. He’d already explained the plan twice. “This is a Muggle prank, Peter. Try to wrap your head around it!”

“Don’t,” Remus interjected, glancing at Peter with sympathy. Peter had been sulking all day, having been left out of their nocturnal planning. “We’re not messing about with time, Pete. We’re just messing with clocks.”

Peter looked from Remus to James for confirmation.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I think I get it.”

With the plan finally understood, they were practically buzzing with anticipation. The day dragged on as they counted the minutes until their prank could commence. Remus had to shush Sirius and James more than once when their excitement got the better of them. Honestly, staying subtle was proving difficult with how charged they were. Every time they caught themselves getting too loud, James couldn’t help but grin like a Cheshire cat at the thought of their brilliant scheme in action. The idea of all those clocks going awry was simply irresistible.

James watched as Remus hissed at Mary during lunch, clearly frustrated. “It won’t work if anyone else knows about it! So shut up! I know you lot can keep a secret if you really try.” The tension was palpable, and Remus was clearly determined to keep their prank under wraps.

James, despite the annoyance of his friends, appreciated Remus’s insistence. Their plan needed to be foolproof, and secrecy was essential. As night fell, the Marauders gathered around James’s Invisibility Cloak, ready for their nocturnal escapade. But fitting all four of them under the cloak proved trickier than it had three years ago.

After a third attempt, which ended with Remus elbowing him in the chest, Sirius barked, “Peter, you stay here.” Peter’s protests were immediate and loud. “Why me? Why am I always the one left out?!”

James tried to suppress a grin. Sirius’s patience was wearing thin, and the frustration in his voice was evident. “We’re not leaving you out, idiot,” Sirius said. “This is purely a logistical issue.”

Remus, ever the peacemaker, offered, “I’ll stay. I’m the tallest, so it’s my fault.”

Sirius shot Remus a look of dismay. “But it was your idea! You can’t miss out!”

James nodded thoughtfully, weighing the options. “Even with three of us, it’s a squeeze. Black, Pettigrew, sit this one out.”

The simultaneous outcry from Sirius and Peter was almost comical. “Why me?!”

“Because,” James said with a sly grin, “It’s Moony’s idea and my cloak.” He knew that Remus’s plan deserved the full attention of those who’d come up with it. Besides, it was his cloak, and he wanted to be fully involved in making their prank a success.

James and Remus crept through the Gryffindor common room, the cloak pulling tightly around them. The room was a sea of red and gold, quiet save for the gentle snoring of seventh-years sprawled over their N.E.W.T. textbooks. James couldn’t help but smile at the thought of their plan coming to fruition. They’d managed to convince Sirius and Peter to stay behind after some arguing and promises to rotate the shifts fairly. Now, under the Invisibility Cloak, they were free to execute their prank.

“Hopefully, they’ll stop squabbling once we give them some time alone,” James whispered, his excitement barely contained as they left the portrait hole and slipped into the dark corridor.

“Why’s Sirius being such a dickhead to Peter, anyway?” Remus asked softly. James had been wondering the same thing. They had to be extra cautious not to wake Peeves or, worse, Mrs. Norris.

“All the girls know about the Great Snogging Race,” James explained quietly. “Sirius thinks Pete’s the one who blabbed.”

“Why would he think that?”

“You know Sirius,” James said with a chuckle, “He loves jumping to conclusions. Usually the wrong ones.”

Remus’s curiosity was evident. “You don’t think it was Peter, then?”

“Moony,” James said with a snort, “I know it was you.” Marlene had mentioned it to him after Quidditch practice one day, amidst yet another round of Sirius trying to woo her. Considering no other Marauder was as close with the girls as Remus, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

“Oh,” Remus responded, sounding slightly caught off guard.

James couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “Doesn’t bother me. If anything, it’s improved my chances of winning the bet.”

Remus suddenly said, “Marlene offered to snog me, but I told her I wasn’t in the bet.”

James raised an eyebrow, surprised by the confession. Marlene?

“Ha, don’t tell Sirius,” James said, trying to mask his feelings. He felt a pang of something—confusion, perhaps? Marlene had always been someone he felt protective of, like family, and the idea of her being involved in this bet felt strange.

“She’d snog you,” Remus added. “She told me she would.”

“Alas, it’s not to be,” James said, trying to sound casual. Inside, though, his mind was whirling. The notion of Marlene offering herself up as part of the bet unsettled him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Marlene—he did, a lot. But he saw her as a friend, someone he cared about deeply but not romantically. The idea of her being involved in this way felt unsettling.

As they reached the grand clock, James pushed aside his thoughts. The clock was magnificent, with its mahogany frame and golden face, and it was time to focus on the task at hand. Remus worked on unbinding the Protective Charms, a process that James could see was intricate and slow. Watching him work was fascinating; the charms loosened with a soft pop that only Remus seemed to feel. James felt a twinge of admiration for his friend’s skill.

“There we go,” Remus said, smiling at James.

James nodded and waved his wand at the clock, rolling the longer hand back five minutes. He checked his watch, noting the synchronization. A satisfied chuckle escaped him. “See, Moony, I knew it had to be you. Let’s head back.”

They moved quickly up the stairs, their excitement barely contained. At the top, Remus paused to catch his breath, and James patiently steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really going to lose the bet to Sirius for Lily’s sake?”

James felt a stiffening in his back at the question but kept his tone light. “Might not lose.”

“But Lily’s never going to—”

“I’m the one taking Divination, Lupin, not you.”

“Yeah, but she hates you.”

“She doesn’t hate me.” James laughed softly. “Lily Evans doesn’t have a hateful bone in her body.”

Remus fell silent, which only made James more aware of the weight of his own feelings. It was a deeper connection with Lily, something that James had been struggling to articulate even to himself. His feelings for her were complicated—beyond just a schoolyard crush. It wasn’t just about winning a bet or getting a girl; it was about something he didn’t fully understand but felt very strongly.

“It’s just not time yet, that’s all. But I don’t mind.”

“Oh.”

James could sense that Remus was on the edge of asking something more, probing deeper into his feelings, but he hesitated. Remus wasn’t as bold or intrusive as Sirius; he had a way of asking questions that made James feel like he was peeling back layers he wasn’t ready to reveal. James appreciated that about him, but it also made the moment feel heavier.

When they returned to the dorm, Sirius was pacing the floor, the curtains around Peter’s bed drawn. It was clear they hadn’t used the time to settle their differences.

“Well?” Sirius demanded eagerly as James and Remus removed the cloak.

“Done,” James said simply, stifling a yawn as he headed for his bed. He gave Sirius a friendly pat on the shoulder as he passed him. “Enjoy your five-minute lie-in.”

* * *

And so the prank carried on, unfolding with all the finesse of a well-oiled machine. Every night that week, two Marauders would huddle under the Invisibility Cloak, slipping downstairs with the stealth of seasoned ninjas to perform their intricate spell that nudged the minute hand back by five degrees. By Saturday morning, every clock in Hogwarts was running a solid twenty-five minutes late. The school was blissfully unaware of their temporal turmoil—everything was proceeding precisely as planned.

However, an unforeseen snag had cropped up.

“The thing is,” Sirius said through a yawn over his breakfast, “We’re not actually getting an extra half-hour’s sleep, are we? We’re still trudging off to bed at the same time.”

“No, well, that wasn’t precisely the intention…” Remus mumbled, his attention divided between trying to assemble a sandwich that seemed to be 20% toast and 80% jam.

James watched with barely concealed amusement as Sirius continued to grumble. “Still, I reckon we ought to be getting something out of this.”

“The satisfaction of a job well done?” Remus suggested dryly, taking a hefty bite of his culinary catastrophe. Jam oozed between the crusts, streaking his fingers and causing Sirius to cringe with barely suppressed horror.

James chuckled, a warm feeling of pride and contentment swelling in his chest. This prank was pure Marauder magic, and the fact that no one had caught on yet was a testament to their ingenuity. Still, he could understand Sirius’s point—there should be a more satisfying payoff.

That night, as he and Sirius sneaked down to adjust the clock, Sirius convinced James to push the boundaries just a bit further.

The thrill of the adventure tingled in James’s veins as they crept through the silent corridors under the Invisibility Cloak. The castle at night was a thing of eerie beauty, but the weight of their prank loomed over them. Precision was paramount; they had to be careful.

“Just a little more,” Sirius whispered, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s the harm?”

James hesitated, considering their already precarious position. But Sirius’s infectious enthusiasm was impossible to ignore. Trusting his friend’s instincts and the added thrill of rebellion, James relented.

“All right, but just a smidge more,” James agreed, his heart thudding in his chest as he drew his wand. “We don’t want to overdo it.”

They performed the spell together, nudging the clock forward by a full hour this time. James watched with a mixture of pride and anxiety as the clock adjusted itself, feeling a giddy thrill at the successful execution of their audacious tweak.

“There,” he whispered, turning to Sirius with a grin. “Satisfied?”

Sirius nodded, a smug smile plastered across his face. “Absolutely. Now let’s get back before Filch decides to take a midnight stroll.”

Back in their dormitory, James found himself grinning at the thought of the entire school waking up an hour late. It was audacious, perhaps even a bit reckless, but it was also brilliantly executed. As he settled into bed, he glanced over at Sirius, who was already wearing a self-satisfied smirk, clearly pleased with their nocturnal escapades.

When Remus discovered their latest stunt, he was initially a bundle of nerves. But his panic was unwarranted—there were a few bewildered comments about waking up in broad daylight during the depths of winter at seven o’clock, but no one suspected anything amiss. It was a Sunday, after all, and everyone was too busy lounging around the castle to pay much heed. That evening, James observed as Sirius bid adieu to Remus and Peter, who scurried off under the Invisibility Cloak.

“He’s just going to try and fix it, you know,” James remarked, polishing his broom on his bed.

“I know,” Sirius grinned, flopping down beside him, “Just means we can turn it a little further on our next turn.”

James chuckled, shaking his head. “Remus is going to have a fit…”

“But he’ll be so well-rested while doing it!” Sirius retorted with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

By the time the other Marauders returned, James had been thoroughly won over as an accomplice to Sirius’s scheme. After all, what was the point of a prank if they didn’t get to revel in its consequences? While James admired Remus’s meticulousness for a months-long master plan, he had to admit that Sirius’s carpe diem approach was far more exhilarating.

To their delight, the fruits of their labour began to reveal themselves the following week. In Potions, they found Slughorn scratching his head, utterly baffled by the disastrous results of the students’ latest projects—all of which had gone terribly awry.

“Oh dear,” the professor fretted, utterly confounded by the ruined Girding Potions, “Did everyone leave them to brew for the correct amount of time? It must be precisely twenty-four hours…”

Everyone insisted they had, or at least thought they had. Only the Marauders knew the truth, and James had to suppress the delighted grin threatening to spread across his face as he feigned innocent confusion. The thrill of knowing their prank was working flawlessly was almost too sweet.

The chaos continued to amass, much to Sirius’s delight, as their prank evolved beyond Remus’s carefully calibrated five-minute increments. Remus wasn’t too pleased, but Sirius was relentless, making sure he went to the clock with either James or Peter every night. James didn’t mind—watching the pandemonium unfold was worth bending the rules. With each passing night, he eagerly anticipated what new havoc their subtle adjustments to time would bring.

However, by the third week of November, things had escalated. The clocks were now swinging wildly, sometimes altered by as much as four hours. The main issue was Sirius’s reluctance to divulge how much he was shifting the time, leaving Remus to guess at his corrections.

“What the hell is going on?!” Mary demanded one morning at breakfast, after perhaps only four hours of sleep. James noticed Remus looking particularly guilty, clearly wrestling to regain control amidst Sirius’s chaotic meddling.

Breakfast had become an absurd affair. The house-elves in the kitchen were hopelessly confused about the time of day, resulting in scrambled eggs being served alongside mashed potatoes and gravy, legs of lamb with cornflakes, and, on occasion, a meal where nothing appeared at all. James found the whole situation uproariously funny, and Sirius, of course, was in his element.

“What do you mean?” James asked, attempting to look nonchalant as he stifled a grin. Sirius remained unusually silent, only yawning and occasionally casting scowls at Remus.

“Isn’t anyone else sleeping really badly?” Mary asked desperately. She looked increasingly frazzled—her dark hair was escaping its braids in thick, dishevelled curls, and her eyes were bloodshot. “And what’s going on with the weather?”

“Yeah, it was really dark yesterday,” Marlene yawned. “But today, it started getting light at six or something.”

“Hogwarts is a very mysterious and magical place,” James said with an air of mock seriousness. “Who are we to question its inner workings?”

Meanwhile, James couldn’t help but notice Remus’s increasing stress. With the full moon approaching, Remus seemed particularly on edge. If Sirius didn’t ease up, Remus might lose track entirely and be forced to seclude himself in the Shrieking Shack for a week. James felt a twinge of guilt; the sight of scrambled eggs next to mashed potatoes was amusing, but the safety of his friend was paramount. He resolved to have a word with Sirius—after all, the prank was meant to be fun, not detrimental to their friend’s well-being.

He found Sirius lounging on their bed, flipping through a Quidditch magazine.

“Hey, Sirius,” James began casually, trying to sound nonchalant even though he was anything but. “Got a minute?”

Sirius looked up from his magazine, a grin spreading across his face. “What’s up, Potter? I thought you’d be reveling in the glory of our time-twisting shenanigans.”

“Yeah, well,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck, “That’s sort of what I wanted to talk about.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “This sounds serious. What’s on your mind?”

James took a deep breath, leaning against the bedpost. “It’s about the prank. I’ve been thinking—Remus is looking really stressed. The clocks are all over the place, and it’s messing with his sleep. He’s been on edge, and I’m worried about him, especially with the full moon coming up.”

Sirius’s grin faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful frown. “I get it. Remus has been pretty frazzled lately. But come on, it’s been a blast, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it has been,” James admitted, “But maybe it’s time we ease off a bit. I mean, we don’t want to make things worse for him. We’re supposed to be looking out for each other.”

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I see your point, but you’ve got to admit, this prank has been brilliant. Everyone’s so baffled, and we’re having a great time. Can’t we just finish it up? It’ll be over soon.”

James shook his head, his brow furrowed in conflicted thought. “I don’t know, Sirius. What if we’re making things worse? Remus is already having a hard time keeping up with all the changes. He could end up in the Shrieking Shack, and I don’t want him stuck there just because of our prank.”

Sirius sat up, his usual mischief replaced by genuine concern. “Do you really think I don’t care about Moony? Of course, I do. We’ve been in this together from the start, remember? We all agreed to it. Besides, we’ve been cautious. We’re not doing anything that could seriously hurt him.”

James softened, his own concern evident. “I know you care, Sirius. I care too. It’s just… I think we need to find some balance. Maybe we should ease off a bit, give Remus a chance to sort things out. We can still have fun without pushing him to the edge.”

Sirius looked down, clearly wrestling with his own thoughts. “Alright, fair enough. How about we set the clocks back to normal once November is over? Just to give him a bit of a breather. But can we at least squeeze out one more good laugh before we call it a day?”

James chuckled, feeling a surge of relief. “Alright, one last hurrah. But after that, we’re done. Remus comes first.”

Sirius nodded, a genuine smile breaking through his earlier concern. “Deal.”

James felt a flicker of warmth at Sirius’s acceptance. He was glad they could find a compromise without sacrificing their friendship. As he lay back on his bed, he couldn’t help but think about how their antics had brought them all closer—well, except perhaps for Remus, who was currently trapped in the chaos of their prank. 

He glanced over at Sirius, who was already plotting their final act of mischief with a twinkle in his eye. James knew that their pranks were a testament to their friendship, but it was reassuring to see that Sirius, despite his love for chaos, could also be sensible when it mattered.

“So,” James said, breaking the comfortable silence, “what’s our final act of brilliance going to be?”

Sirius grinned, leaning back against the bed. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas. But let’s make sure we don’t overdo it. I suppose a bit of mischief is fine, as long as Moony’s not in a full-blown panic.”

James laughed, feeling lighter. “Agreed. One last hurrah, and then we’ll call it quits. It’s a deal.” 

* * *

Wednesday 27th November 1974

The prank never quite made it to December. By the fourth week, even James had to concede that none of the Marauders had the faintest idea what time it was supposed to be—if they ever had. Remus, wearied and resigned, had given up on correcting Sirius’s relentless alterations. The chaos had become its own beast, running rampant through the castle.

The inevitable climax came during a particularly drowsy Transfiguration lesson. Peter, who had been unusually twitchy throughout the class, suddenly gasped and stared out of the window, his eyes wide with shock.

“What is it, Pettigrew?” McGonagall snapped, her patience evidently frayed. The entire class was on edge, their irritation palpable from disrupted sleep schedules that James now regretted.

“N-nothing, Professor,” Peter stammered, his gaze dropping to the floor as though it might swallow him whole.

But it was too late. The entire class, including the usually unflappable McGonagall, turned in collective astonishment to witness the sun rising at eleven o’clock in the morning.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” McGonagall exclaimed, her voice rising in exasperation. “Class, I want all of you in the Great Hall at once. I’m getting the Headmaster.”

Less than an hour later, James felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach as he stood with the rest of the school, waiting for Dumbledore to address them. He hadn’t seen much of the Headmaster lately; the old man had been frequently absent, off on Ministry business according to McGonagall. Now, as the white-haired wizard approached the lectern, James felt the weight of their mischief pressing down on him.

“What’s going on, d’you reckon?” Lily asked Remus, Mary leaning against her shoulder, snoozing through the commotion.

“No idea,” Remus replied with a nonchalant shrug, though his eyes betrayed a hint of worry. “Just a spot of impromptu daylight savings, perhaps.”

“It seems,” Dumbledore began in his gently authoritative voice, “that we have some pranksters among us.”

The entire room’s gaze zeroed in on James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. James kept his eyes on the crowd, struggling to maintain an innocent façade. Peter fidgeted nervously, his eyes darting towards James, who offered a reassuring grin. Remus, meanwhile, adopted an air of studied indifference. He couldn’t see Sirius, but he knew his friend well enough to picture the defiant smirk plastered across his face.

Dumbledore, however, didn’t make any direct accusations. Instead, he smiled pleasantly and continued, “Rest assured that the clocks are now being corrected, and measures are being taken to ensure this doesn’t happen again. In the meantime, I believe we could all use a bit of rest—I am cancelling the rest of today’s classes, to be resumed at our usual—and correct—time tomorrow morning.”

A collective murmur of appreciation spread through the hall.

“Yes!” Sirius hissed with barely contained glee. “Result!”

“Now,” Dumbledore raised his arms with a twinkle in his eye, “off you go, use this time wisely!”

As the students began to shuffle out, the Marauders were just about to join the exodus when McGonagall’s hand landed firmly on James’s and Sirius’s shoulders.

“Wait,” she said sternly. “Not you four.”

James gulped audibly as the rest of the school filed out, leaving them alone with Dumbledore and McGonagall. 

“So,” Dumbledore said kindly, peering over his half-moon spectacles, “which one of you came up with the idea, eh? Or was it a collective effort?”

James exchanged a glance with his friends, then lowered his gaze to his lap, silently pledging solidarity. Dumbledore chuckled softly. “Admirable. Then we shall have to treat you all equally, hm? I think ten points each from Gryffindor, do you agree, Professor McGonagall?”

“At the very least!” McGonagall nodded sharply. “And detentions!”

“I shall leave that in your capable hands, then. Just one thing, boys.”

James braced himself, expecting the inevitable reprimand.

“You’re all clearly very gifted wizards,” Dumbledore continued, a smile tugging at his lips. Peter squeaked nervously beside him. “That much is evident. It was a simple spell, yes, but highly effective. That kind of thinking will take you far. But perhaps a little more forethought and planning next time? You might not have been discovered quite so quickly.”