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Chapter Text

James Potter loved Christmas. It was his favourite holiday and had been for as long as he could remember. He loved not just receiving gifts (as an only child, he got plenty of those), but giving them to his friends and family, as well as warmth that seeped through the entirety of wizarding and muggle society. His parents had even taken him to look at muggle Christmas lights this year, which paled in comparison to the wizarding Christmas light show, but beat them in term of the crowd size and Christmas music blaring through the street.

His parents and him were settled around the living room, the Christmas tree in on of the corner, decorated with charmed ornaments that lit up, moved around and changed colours every few minutes, while the fireplace cast a gentle glow around the room. James had even transfigured his parent’s dress robes into having matching Christmas tree designs, and had even managed to make his mother’s sing Christmas carols (though she’d muffliatoed it after it became apparent that he, Remus and Peter had sung it in their worst singing voice).

His father was reading a book on the history of wizarding London, while he and his Mum were in the middle of a lazy game of exploding snaps, but she kept leaving every few minutes to check on the biscuits she was baking. A plateful of them had already been devoured by James earlier that evening and he was practically drooling at the mouth for the next batch to finish. All in all, it was like any other Potter family Christmas Eve, the kind that could only have been made better if his best friends, Remus and Peter, had been allowed by their families to join.

And that was then the fireplace turned a vivid blue colour for a few seconds. The sign of the floo network being activated. James grabbed his wand, as did his father. A few years ago, that reaction would have been ridiculous, but these were dark times. They’d half considered taking the house off the floo network completely, after one account of Death Eaters entering a muggleborn’s house and killing him in his sleep. In the end, they’d only restricted it to friends and family.

“James, get to the kitchen with your mother,” his father demanded, but only a second later, it was too late.

A flailing body fell out of the floo, catching himself on the Christmas tree to avoid falling on his face. The intruder was covered in ashes and grime, from the floo, but James could recognise the dark, wavy hair, his aristocratic features and his steely, almost mad grey eyes.

“Stupefy!” James shouted, as he collapsed against the Christmas tree, sending both of them onto the floor, the tree pinning him down. Some of the ornaments flickered and moaned unhappily, muffled by the carpet.

“James!” His father scolded him, as he took in the unconscious teenager on the ground.

“That’s Sirius Black, Dad,” James said, keeping his wand raised. He tightened his grip, looking for any sign that he was anything less than out cold.

No sooner had the name left his mouth, did his Dad’s eyes widen. Sirius Black, heir to the infamously dark Black family, had no business being in the Potter family home. It didn’t matter that he was a teenager, the same age as James, or that they had been both going to Hogwarts together for five years now. Sirius Black was every inch as dark as the rest of his family, believing the same pureblood vitriol that had become frighteningly common as of late, and no doubt aligning himself to the same dark wizard, You-Know-Who, that had been responsible for wiping out muggleborns.

“Euphemia, darling?” Dad shouted. “Come here, please?”

“Hmm? What’s the matter?” Mum answered, her footsteps coming closer, “I heard a crash — what did the two of you do to that poor Christmas tree—oh!” Her surprise was clear when she saw Sirius Black, unconscious and pinned under the Christmas tree. “Well, this is a surprise.”

That, James thought, was an understatement. “He’s a Slytherin and a dark wizard,” he said.

“Then what’s he doing here then?” Mum asked, bending down. “What’s his first name again?”

“Sirius,” James replied.

“Sirius?” His Mum said, tapping his skin lightly, “Sirius, can you hear me?”

“James hit him with a stupefy,” Dad said.

“James,” Mum sighed, “Did you have to?”

“He’s a dark wizard!” James insisted. “He’s hexed my friends and I so often in the corridors that it’s practically instinct at this point.”

“He’s fifteen,” Mum pointed out, “He hasn’t even finished his O.W.Ls yet. I doubt he was a threat to your father and I.”

“He knows enough dark magic for that not to matter,” James muttered.

“Dear, James does a point. We shouldn’t underestimate a Black, especially not in these times,” Dad said.

Mum signed, unhappy. “Monty, fix the tree, would you? I’ll levitate him to a bed.”

“What?!” James yelled, “Levitate him to a bed? This is Sirius Black, Mum! He’s not a patient of yours!”

“If you hadn’t stupefied him, then he wouldn’t be,” Mum replied.

James rolled his eyes, but his Dad had already lifted the tree and Mum levitated Sirius Black, leading him through the living room as though connected by a string to her wand. “I’ll just put him in the guest room.”

It was strange seeing Sirius Black, limp as a rag doll, covered in ashes and grime. It was the first time James had ever seen him without his proud stance, or a trace of glittering madness in his eyes. Without them, he looked almost doll-like, something carved out of porcelain, his features delicate, rather than sharp and sneering. Even his robes, while clearly expensive and tailor made, were obviously designed to be worn in the privacy of home rather than in society. James had the distinct feeling that Sirius Black was never meant to be seen like this by anyone but intimate family, of which James Potter, his nemesis was the opposite. He smirked. At least he had the upper hand now.

“Take his wand too, would you?” Monty asked, as he re-righted the tree and began to cast repairos on the broken ornaments.

“And tie him up, while you’re at it,” James said, following her.

“James,” Mum sighed, “He’s injured. Because of you.”

“He’s a Black. A Slytherin. A dark wizard,” James said, as they walked up the stairs to the bedroom wing. “He probably tried to target us to get into You-Know-Who’s good books.”

“Don’t be foolish, James. We don’t have a target on our back.”

“Do you know what Slytherins call me? Blood traitor.” James replied, “How is that not a target? Just because we’re pureblood doesn’t mean people like him see us as any better than muggleborns.”

“James Fleamont,” Mum hissed, “We’re not discussing this right now.”

“But it’s true!” James said, raising his voice, “You and Dad are just in denial, we need to start protecting ourselves, not tucking in a dark wizard into the guest bedroom!”

“Go to your room,” Mum ordered.

James froze, “What?”

“Now,” she said. “You can come out tomorrow, when you stop talking nonsense.”

He stared at her, in disbelief. “It’s Christmas Eve.” He’d never gotten in trouble on Christmas. It was the only time of year when he practically had an immunity, when his parents were the most likely to laugh off his mischief and settle in for a few games, or a chat. Hell, it was Christmas!

“And tomorrow will be Christmas Day,” Mum said. “Room, James. Now.”

“I’m being punished, because I’m the only sensible one in this — Mum!” James was cut off by his mother’s wordless banishing charm, that sent him sliding back in his socks, right into the open door of his bedroom. The door closed after him, shutting gently.

“I’ll be making French toast tomorrow morning,” Mum said, as he heard the door to the guest bedroom open next door.

James glared at the door, half debating opening it and trying his luck. He didn’t see himself getting very far, and he’d probably be stuck in his room for even longer, or without his wand. He sighed, collapsing on top of his bed.

Why didn’t his parents see what was coming? Even Hogwarts, one of the last places left safe from the violence, had gone through changes. The petty house rivalries had turned dangerous. More Gryffindors and Slytherins were appearing in the hospital wing, while the amount of people walking alone down the hallways was shrinking. Nearly everyone was walking in groups now, except of course, for Sirius Black.

Bloody Sirius Black. If there was one person (apart from possibly Snivellus) that James could expel from Hogwarts, it would be him. If he hadn’t already casted at least one of the unforgivable curses, James would eat one of Peter’s socks. Not to mention his equally awful brother, Regulus Black. The two of them were like shadows, slithering through the corridors and casting themselves on every wall, creating a cold shadow that drowned Hogwarts in darkness.

At least he could tell his friends about this. Maybe they’d at least know what happened if Sirius Black murdered his entire family tonight. Couldn’t they have just sent Black to the Malfoys, unconscious and all? The Black’s floo was notoriously difficult to access, but the Averys, or any other of dark family, would probably be overjoyed to receive the Black heir, tend to him dearly before gleefully sending for the Black family to take him back.

James scowled to himself as he composed his letters to Remus and Peter, telling them all about Black’s surprise appearance and how if they all perished, they knew who to blame. Maybe if they wrote back about what an awful person Black was, his parents would take homing seriously and throw Black out completely. He sent off his letters with his owl Lucinda, so hopefully he might get a response in the next day or two.

He could still hear movement downstairs, so his parents hadn’t gone to bed yet. James glanced at the door and moved the knob, seeing that it wasn’t unlocked. He was good at being sneaky, so he opened it up a few more millimetres, making sure there weren’t any charms to detect the door opening, before he made quick work of walking to the guest room.

He could hear a few words of the conversation happening downstairs, so he crouched by the stairs to hear better.

“…send an owl to the Blacks?” That was his father.

“No. Not tonight—” His mother replied.

“…on our doorstep…”

“Tomorrow. Let’s let the boy sleep, and we’ll handle it tomorrow,” his mother said, “At least James will be a familiar face for him, rather than two strangers.”

James was hoping Sirius would shit himself tomorrow, after he realised who’d stupefied him and ruined his plans of murdering his entire family. He grinned, excited to relish the look on his face when he realised James had gotten the better of him, and how excited Remus and Peter would be. Compared to the two of them and their crazy families, James never had any good stories to tell over the winter holiday.

James held his wand close, as he tried to open the door. It was locked. He whispered a quick alohomora, but whatever locking spell his mother had used was clearly more powerful than one an alohomora could unlock. Had she done that to stop Black from getting out, or to stop him from getting in?

“James Fleamont Potter! Get back in your room,” Mum ordered from downstairs, as he felt his wand fly out of his hands, zooming down the stairs.

James sighed, giving the guest room door a half hearted kick, before going back into his room. He laid on his bed, before grabbing his broomstick and his polishing kit, keeping watch on the door. Black had ruined Christmas, officially, and James was going to make him regret it.

Chapter Text

The amount of sleep he got on Christmas Eve was, frankly, criminal. And James held that very same criminal responsible for it: Sirius Black, dark wizard in training, was still lying in the guest room. James had listened for any noise that he’d woken up all night, nearly pressing his ear to their shared wall a few times, but to his dismay, it seemed that Black had slept the whole night and that James was now overtired from his all-nighter. Not to mention that the bastard had gotten him stuck in his room on Christmas, of all time.

Still, when he smelt the scent of French toast wafting through the house, James decided that that was the sign he was allowed to leave his room again. He was still in a mood, his lack of sleep hadn’t helped at all either, but he wasn’t going to let Black ruin his Christmas Day like he had Christmas Eve.

James walked down the stairs and went into the kitchen. His Mum and Dad were already up, both dressed in dressing gowns, as the enchanted pans occasionally flipped the French toast.

“Merry Christmas, James,” Mum greeted him.

“Did Black do anything last night?” He asked immediately.

“No, he still hasn’t woken up,” Dad replied, “Sit down, grab a plate and then we’ll be presents.”


 James did so, grabbing a plate and holding it close to the pans, which flipped it onto the plate. He walked to the table, sat down and poured a cup full of maple syrup onto it, before he began eating.

“James, slow down or you’ll choke,” Mum warned him, “I’ll put the kettle on, does—”

She was interrupted by loud banging, coming from upstairs. “Where the Hell am I?” Sirius Black screamed at the top of his lungs, “Do you know who you’ve kidnapped? My family will have you kissed by dementors!”

The three Potters glanced at each other.

“See?” James said, “Pureblooded maniac.”

His Mum and Dad looked more amused than anything else, which left him annoyed.

“I’ll go see if he’s alright, then I’ll have him join us for breakfast.”

“Join us for breakfast?” James repeated, outraged. “He’s just threatened to have you kissed by a dementor! And there’s the small fact that he’s a junior death eater.”

“Stop that,” Mum said, “He’s a guest. So you’ll be kind to him, at least until we figure out how he got into our floo, alright?”

James rolled his eyes, but grumbled an agreement.

“Hear me, you freaks? I’ll reign the ministry down on you! Let me out of here, immediately or you’ll wish had!” Black bellowed.

“You’ve got his wand, don’t you darling?” Dad asked.

“It’s on the fireplace mantle,” Mum replied.

James dug angrily into his French toast, “Mum, this is completely ridiculous. He’s not even going to join us for breakfast, you know? He’d rather die than join Blood traitors at the table.”

She shrugged, “Then he won’t eat,” she said, before she walked up the stairs.

Dad shrugged at James’ displeased expression. “She was a Ravenclaw,” he said, “She doesn’t understand house rivalry.”

“It’s not house rivalry,” James insisted, “He’s a Black. Sirius Black. Muggle hater, future death eater and follower of You-Know-Who. And Mum wants to have him over for breakfast.”

“I’m sure what you’re saying is true,” Dad said, “But he’s also a fifteen year old whose disarmed. Either this whole thing is a floo accident, and it’s better for Potter-Black relations to not blow it out of proportions, or it’s more than that, and if it is, we’ll deal with it.”

Annoyingly enough, his Dad did have some logic. But James still wasn’t convinced. They continued to eat, his father occasionally commenting on an article in the Daily Prophet, as James stewed. Both of them kept looking upstairs, waiting for a sign that Mum was finished talking with Sirius, but none came.

Finally, she emerged, walking down the stairs.

“So?” Dad asked.

She sat down, “Well, Sirius was calm, once I told him how he’d appeared in our floo. Apparently, the last thing he remembers is James, flinging a curse into his face, which is why he was so, erm, startled, this morning.”

“Why’s he here though?” James pressed, “How did he even get into the floo? It’s for friends and family only, isn’t it?”

Mum nodded, “Well, Monty, you did ward it against your…extended family, didn’t you?”

“Extended family? We’re related to the Blacks?” James stuck out his tongue, in disgust.

“Third cousins, twice removed, I believe,” Dad said, “And I hate to break it to you son, but every pureblood you meet is related to each other.”

“Even you and Mum?”

The two shared an awkward glance, “It’s a very distant relation.”

James mimed vomiting, “Thank God Lily’s a muggleborn.”

His parents nodded, too relieved to even tease him about how he still hadn’t gone out on a date with the girl of his dreams.

“And Sirius didn’t seem to know how he get though the floo either,” Mum continued.

“So what, he just wandered into his fireplace and just happened to end up at a blood traitor’s house?” James scoffed.

Mum shrugged, “Floo accidents happen.”

Sure they did, to little kids and to muggleborns, but not to someone like Sirius Black. However he’d gotten into the Potter’s floo, it wasn’t an accident and James was going to get to the bottom of it.

“Well, that means he’s leaving soon, right?” James asked, hopefully.

“Of course,” Mum said. “Apparently his parents are out for the day and since our houses aren’t connected to the floo and I don’t really want to leave him by himself after being stupefied, we’ll apparate him back tonight.

James jaw hit the ground. “He’s spending Christmas Day with us too?” That settled it, this had to be some kind of nefarious plot. Was this Black getting back at him for years of pranking? “Bloody ridiculous.”

Mum rolled her eyes, “I’m sure he’s not happy to be away from his family during Christmas either. Can you at least say hello to him, so that he’ll feel comfortable enough to come down for some food?”

Annoyingly enough, James did want to speak to Sirius, to interrogate him about why he was really here. “Fine, I’ll do it,” he said, getting to his feet, “But I’m not happy about it!”

James ran up the stairs and burst into the guest room, wand out.

Sirius Black was lounging on the bed, in a sunbeam, not even deigning to look, “Potter, I presume?” His hair wasn’t even tangled, still looking well coiffed, while James couldn’t get his to sit still even an hour after brushing it, much less a night of tossing and turning. His mad grey eyes drifted lazily over James, his lip curling slightly as he greeted him.

“What the Hell are you doing in my house, Black,” James demanded, casting a quick silencio at the door to stop his parents from hearing.

Black stretched lazily, looking annoyingly at ease in the guest bedroom, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

James narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, because I don’t buy your ‘floo accident’ excuse. Whatever it is you’re here to do, I’m going to stop you, so just give up now.”

Black finally opened his eyes, and the sharpness of them was a good reminder that no matter how relaxed he looked, his mind was whirling.

“Are you wearing my clothes?” James demanded, as he realised that he had that exact robe in his closet.

Black’s expression soured, “Unfortunately,” he said. “They’re a little short and worn, for my liking.”

James scowled. Black was only an inch or two taller than him, and half of that was just because of his wavy hair. It wasn’t enough to make a difference with regards to robe height. Well, not unless you had perfectly tailor-made robes created each time you grew half an inch taller, which James was certain Sirius had had.

“Well I haven’t worn that since last year,” James replied, trying to emulate the same haughty tone Sirius had.

“Hmm, yes. You like wearing muggle clothes, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Got a problem with that?” James replied, trying to goad him into unleashing into pureblood vitriol. He was pretty sure his parents would throw him out of the house if they heard that at least.

But Black just raised an eyebrow, his smirk telling James that Black knew exactly what he was trying to do. “If you choose to associate with lesser things, I won’t stop you,” he whispered.

James scowled. “Why are you here then, associating with blood traitors?”

“Floo accident,” Black said, nonchalantly. “Happens to everyone.”

“And I’m a hippogryph,” James replied. “Did your Dark Lord send you here on a scouting mission? Or are you trying to prove something to your slimy Slytherin friends? Or maybe it’s just a personal vendetta, taking out the blood traitors yourself.”

Black glared at James, hatred pooling in his mad grey eyes.

“Oops. Did I hit a nerve?” James asked, aiming his wand at Black. “Because if that’s true, I’ll hex you myself and turn you into the Aurors before you can do anything about it.”

“Threatening a wandless wizard? How Gryffindor of you,” Black said.

Whatever smarmy response James was ready to give, nothing could have beat the sound of a grumbling stomach from Black. His face tinged pink at the sound.

“Hungry are you?” James said. “I’m guessing you’ve never gone without a meal before.”

“Get out, Potter. I can’t take your presence on top of being stuck in your shack of a house.”

“Well, word for the wise, Black. At the Potter house, we don’t wait on each other hand and foot, and we don’t have a house elf to enslave into bringing us food whenever we want it. If you want to eat, you have to go downstairs to do that, so have fun starving up here, instead of lowering yourself by associating with blood traitors.”

Black leaned back against the wall, “Finished?”

He was infuriating as ever. “I’ll be glad to see you go,” James said.

Black did not respond, merely motioned like he was shooing him away.

James scowled, as he walked back down the stairs and flung himself into one of the cushy armchairs. Not even the prospect of opening his long-awaited Christmas gifts (one of which looked suspiciously like a broom), was enough to get rid of his bad mood. How were his parents so blind to the obvious? That there was no way Sirius Black was here by accident and that whatever reason it was, it would cost the Potters deeply.

Maybe James would cast a levicorpus at him tonight. Keep him nice and away, hanging from his ankle all night. Then again, Black was supposed to be gone in just a few hours. That would be for the better, and then he could forget about everything.

As James sat on the sofa, exhaustion took its tole, as his eyes began to close. Minutes later, he was sound asleep.

“James, James, Sweetie?” Mum’s voice was too loud.

“Sleeping,” James muttered, trying to bat her away.

“It’s supper time.”

James’ eyes went wide. “What?” He sat up, blinking as he noticed how dark it was outside. He was still lying on the cushy sofa, the Christmas presents still unwrapped.

Mum laughed a little, “You slept all day, Jaime.”

“Ugh, no. Not on Christmas,” James cursed. Bloody Sirius Black. He’d gotten him grounded to his room on Christmas Eve and so exhausted that he’d slept the entirety of Christmas Day. “Is Black gone yet?”

Mum rolled her eyes a little, “Not yet. I’m going upstairs now, to apparate him back to his home.”

“Thank God,” James said, as he stood up, stretching. “The faster he’s gone, the better it’ll be.”

Mum’s smile was a little sharp, but she didn’t deny it.

James walked over to the kitchen, where he began to help ferry some of the dishes from there to the dining room.

There was only going to be the three of them for Christmas Day dinner. The Potters had never been the largest of families, but only a few years ago there had been grandparents at the same table too. Dad used to talk about his cousins, but it seemed that a lot of them had been wiped out during the Grindelwal conflicts, a generation or two ago. Maybe that was why neither of his parents seemed willing to accept the fact that there was a war on their doorstop; wars always seemed to cost the Potters.

Mum came back downstairs a few minutes later, looking troubled. “Well, it seems that our guest is going to have to be here for a little bit longer.”

Dad and James exchanged a glance, “Oh?”

“His mother sent an owl. Apparently, the family has gotten sick from a bout of dragon pox, and they’ve asked us to keep Sirius here, while they recover.”

Dad frowned, “Effie, are you sure?”

She nodded, showing them a parchment, “He had the letter and it’s signed by Wulburga Black.”

James scowled, “I told you it was’t an accident! He’s here to do something to us, and now that we’ve let him in and kept watch on him, he needs more time to do it.”

“James, don’t speak like that,” Mum said. “It’s perfectly reasonable that the family is ill, and they don’t want him infected. I did the same thing when you were little and visiting the Pettigrews once.”

“That’s different,” James said. “I was five, and we’re friends with the Pettigrews. Black, just by coincidence, being at the Potters, by accident of all things? We’re blood traitors, Mum. It’s a golden opportunity for Black and his ilk.”

“James—”

“Effie,” Dad cut in, “James has a point. It’s possible, that all that Sirius is saying its true, but it’s ignorant to ignore the chance that it’s a lie.”

“You two are impossible,” Mum said. “He’s an unarmed teenager, what’s he going to do? Throw a fit? Punch a wall?”

“I don’t do that,” James muttered.

The exasperated look him Mum gave him in response was her answer.

“Let’s just forget about Sirius Black for the evening,” Dad said. “We’ve still got presents to open, because Jaime here had a long nap this afternoon.”

James scowled, but he did want to open up that broomstick and not let Black ruin any more of his holiday. “Fine.”

“Good,” Mum replied. “Now, let’s eat.”

That night, James sat in his room, which was now filled by a few more presents. His midday nap had cost him: he wasn’t at all tired now, even though it was past midnight. The broomstick (a Cleansweep 4!), sat by the window, practically goading him into trying it out. He hadn’t been able to, since it was too dark, but tomorrow morning he’d be spending all day in the sky.

A creak of the floorboards in the guest room next door made him snap out of this thoughts. Sirius Black was not only awake, but moving.

James sat up and put his slippers on. Maybe Black was only grabbing something on the other side of his room, or maybe…

He heard the sound of the doorknob turning.

James’s eyes went wide, as he grabbed his wand and then his invisibility cloak, covering himself with it. He’d catch Black this time, whatever he was trying to do. He casted a quick silencio at the doorknob, before turning it as well.

Black’s footsteps made their way to the stairs, meaning he was well past James’ room.

Quickly, he opened his bedroom door silently, before walking out and closing it behind him.

It was difficult to make out Black in the darkness of the hallway, but the moonlight through the window gave him some light.

Black was standing at the edge of the staircase.

James wondered for a minute, whether he was even going to go downstairs.

Then, Black stepped down, making a slight, but strange noise as he did. He winced, once he’d put his foot down, taking the steps one at a time, like a toddler did learning to walk, practically clutching the railing like a lifeline.

James frowned, what in the world was Sirius Black doing, acting like going down the stairs was an act of pain.

It took him at least five minutes to just get down the stairs, hissing in pain with each step.

Either this was some extremely elaborate junior death eater plot, or…this was real.

James followed him down, once Black had gone out of view. He found him easily, his pace still slow compared to any normal person. James could see now that his legs shook slightly with each step he took, wobbling like he might fall down if he put his full weight on them.

Black was in the kitchen and he grabbed the breadbox, opening it. That was the first thing that made any sense to James. Black hadn’t eaten a bite since he’d arrived two days ago, of course he was hungry. But instead of just diving into the bread, like James would have done, Black grabbed three loafs, all of them pre sliced.

He carefully took out one or two slices from each loaf, all of them from somewhere in the middle, before replacing the tie and putting them back in the breadbox, in the same way that they’d been put away.

Black held the five slices he’d taken like gold itself, before glancing at the fruit basket on the counter. He went up to it and instead of grabbing something from the top, took out a few of the clementines, before grabbing an apple from underneath them, and replacing the clementines.

James watched as he carefully balanced the clementines, until they looked to be at the same height as before, sans apple underneath.

Black finally seemed satisfied with his work, as he turned around and limped back upstairs.

James followed him again, as Black took the stairs even slower this time, his breath raggedy from the small trip, until he closed his bedroom door behind him.

What the hell had happened to Sirius Black, to turn the elegant and haughty aristocrat, into a limping sneak? James furrowed his brow, but no answer came to him.

Whatever the reason for Black to be in his house, James had even less of a clue than he had before.

Chapter Text

James was woken up by the familiar tap-tap-tap on his window. Blearily, he opened his eyes, squinting at the sun peaking through his window. His owl, a big tawny he’d called Gregorius back in second year, was waiting expectantly on the windowsill.

Opening the window, James grabbed the letter clutched in his talons.

James, written in Remus’ elegant script. Hope you’ve had a happy Christmas, or as happy as one with Black in your house could be. You’re right — him arriving is strange, but it’s strange that he’d be in your house during Christmas. I would have thought the Blacks would have gone out of their way to get him back, even if this whole thing was just a misunderstanding, rather than have their little heir absent for Christmas.

Keep an eye on him, but it’s probably best to not hex him — not unless he pulls a wand on you. He’s on your turf right now and he knows it. This isn’t Hogwarts, with Slughorn defending his slimy snakes at moment’s notice. He’s in your house and you’ve got the home advantage.

Even better — Mum said I could come early, so I’ll floo over tomorrow, if your parents are good with that. Then it’ll be 2 against 1, (3, if Peter can make it early too) so Black will back down.

See you soon,
Remus

James grinned and hurried down the stairs, “Mum, Dad, can Remus come tomorrow?”

His parents were both sitting around the breakfast table.

Mum smiled, “Of course, James.”

James grinned, but before he could race upstairs to write his reply, he heard the sound of eggs frying on the stove. His stomach grumbled.

“Hungry, are you?” Mum asked, enchanting the pan to pour the scrambled eggs into a plate, which then hovered in front of him.

“Thanks Mum,” James said, as he shovelled the egg into his mouth. “Any word from the Blacks? Can he leave yet?”


“Nothing,” Mum said. “You talked to him yesterday, he didn’t say anything about that, did he?”

James thought about how he’d seen Black limp down the stairs, groaning like he’d been in pain every step and grabbing food that no one would notice was missing. “No, he said nothing.”

“Hmm,” Mum said. “Why don’t you two go flying then? It’s not healthy for two teenage boys to be inside all day.”

James made a face, “Flying? With Black?”

“He can fly, can’t he?”


“He’s Slytherin’s beater,” James said, not sure which was worse — him being a beater, or Slytherin. “He broke my nose once.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to,” Mum said.

James raised an eyebrow, “He waited until after I scored the goal, and then the blunger hit me, almost knocked me off my broom and then Black told me, to my face, that it was a shame he’d only broken my nose instead of my neck.”

Mum winced. “What a healthy school rivalry.”

James only raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “We don’t have enough brooms.”


“We didn’t,” Mum corrected him. “Let him go on your old one, and you can try out your new one.”

“Mum, really?”

“Yes, really,” Mum said.

James rolled his eyes, but he wandered upstairs after grabbing an apple out of the fruit basket. He passed by his parents room, before impulsively ducking inside and grabbing Black’s wand, which they’d put on the dresser. He smirked, imagining Black’s expression when he revealed that a blood traitor had been holding his wand.

He burst into Black’s room. “Morning, Black,” he greeted the Slytherin. 


Black was already awake, lounging in his bed like he’d never left it the night before. But James could see the traces of the limping man he’d seen the night before. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was starting to look greasy.

“Ugh. Potter,” Black said. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have something you want,” James said, bringing out the apple from behind his back, passing it between his hands.

Black raised an eyebrow, “An apple? And here I thought your family could afford more food than the Weasleys.”

Oh, this was going to be good. “Funny then, how desperate you were for one last night.”

Black’s eyes widened, just for a millisecond.

James smirked.

Black sat up, his lips narrowed. His unflappable composure had, for the first time, failed. “I won’t debase myself by eating with blood traitors,” he hissed, “It’s not a crime to eat afterwards.”

James let out a laugh this time, “Debase myself by eating with blood traitors? Do you even heard the words that come out of your mouth?”

Black only sneered in response, but James could tell that he was worried. Whatever James had seen last night, Black didn’t want it to be known.

“Anyways,” James continued, “We both know that the real reason you’re lying in bed right now is because you’re weaker than a newborn kneazle.”

Black glowered, “Just because your parents stole my wand—”

“Please,” James cut him off. “As if this has anything to do with magic.” From his back pocket, he grabbed Black’s wand, waving it around. “You can have it back, if you want.”

Black’s eyes had lit up when he’d noticed his wand in James’ hand.

“It’s a pretty one, isn’t it?” James said.

Black’s wand was rather nice. It was a light wood colour, rather simpler than other ones that old wealthy families chose, but he could see the Black family’s crest carved into the handle of the wand, contrasting with the light wood.

“Do you want it?” James asked, holding it out tantalisingly.

“What game is this, Potter?” Black demanded. “I’m in no mood to go along with this.”


“No game,” James replied. “If you want it, come and get it.”


The glare Black sent him almost made him shiver. They’d had fights, spats and exchanged hexes for the last four and a half years that they’d been at Hogwarts together, but it had never been like this. Not with James holding his wand while Black was at his mercy, too weak to fight back. It felt marvellous.

It spoke to just how desperate Black was, that he actually tried. There were a few tense seconds, with Black glowering at James’ face, the wand a few inches to the right of it. And then, with seeker-like instincts, he dove for the wand.

For a terrifying moment, Black’s fingers grazed the wood, before James managed to push it out of reach.

Black crashed onto the hardwood floor and let out a groan.

“Just got to try a little harder next time, eh Black?” James jeered. Black’s body was lying prone at his feet, staring up at James with hatred in his mad grey eyes.

“Maybe I should just levicorpus you here, with your own wand,” James continued, relishing in the fantasy of it all. He’d only learnt the spell a few weeks ago and was dying to try it properly on someone, instead of just practicing it with Remus and Peter.

“Fuck off, Potter,” Black muttered.

Then, they both turned to the doorway as they heard the tell-tale pop of an apparition. Mum was standing in the doorway, staring at the two teenage boys.

James quickly hid the wand back in his back pocket, as Black tried his best to look less pathetic.

“Hi, Mum,” James said with his perfected I’m-not-up-to-anything-really voice.

Mum looked doubtful, staring at him to Black on the floor. “I heard a crash.”

“That was Black, Mum,” James said. “He, erm, fell out of bed.”


Mum’s eyes went to the boy on the floor, “Did he now?”

“Uh-huh.”


“And he wasn’t pushed?”

“No, Mum.”


“That was a question for Sirius.”

James fought very hard to keep a straight face, instead of scowling. Black was going to sell him out, wasn’t he? The bastard. James couldn’t even signal a threat to him to keep quiet, without alerting Mum.

“I just fell, Mrs. Potter,” Black lied.

James stared at Black in disbelief — the two of them had sold each other out to Professors before, even getting into a small war back in third year over how many pranks they could get the professors to blame the other for causing (James had ended up with fifteen detentions, Black only got thirteen, much to James’ irritation).

Mum still didn’t look completely convinced, but she nodded slowly, “Alright then, boys. Here’s the other broomstick. Why don’t you two get your energy out, instead of crashing around inside of it then? I don’t want to see either of you two until dinner. Maybe this’ll wear you out that you’ll be hungry enough to join us for supper, Sirius.”

She held the broomsticks out to James, who grabbed it.

“Are you alright, Sirius?” She asked, when he still wasn’t moving to sit up.

“Perfectly fine, Mrs. Potter,” Black replied. “Just enjoying the floor at the moment.”


Mum glanced at James like, what did you do him? Before she just shook her head at the pair of them, and walked out of the bedroom.

“Why did you cover for me?” James hissed, crouching down.

Black’s polite expression vanished as soon as Mum left the room, “Go away, Potter.”


“Can’t,” James said. “Mum and Dad will be looking out the window to see us flying. If only I go, they’ll ask questions.”

Black let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Leave me alone.”

“No!” James replied, “My parents will blame me, not you, for abandoning you to go flying.”


Black scowled, “Really?”

“Yes,” James said.

Black frowned, before he managed to push himself off the floor. He sat, his back against the bed and letting out a pained yelp as he did so.

“What’s the matter with you?” James demanded, “Why are you being all weird and weak?”

“Just give me the broom,” Black said.

James wasn’t going to risk looking a gift horse in the eye by refusing. He tossed Black the broom, who managed the catch it out of the air.

Black used the bed to stand himself up, scowling when he caught James watching him. “Mind opening the window?”


James unlocked it. It was a big window, with more the enough room to step out on the broomstick with. He sat on the ledge and pushed himself onto the broomstick, waiting for Black to follow him.

Black did so, wincing in pain as he did, but managing to get on. He looked more stable on a broom than he had on his feet earlier.

“Who did you piss off to beat you up then?” James asked, “Did your precious Dark Lord do that?”

“Piss off,” Black said, before he shot away from James, who quickly pivoted to follow at his heels. It was a testament to how fast his broom was that he managed to catch back up to Black after only a few seconds.

“Is that why you’re here then? Kill my family off to get back in their good graces?”

“If I was going to, why the hell would I tell you that?” Black replied.

James narrowed his eyes, “Ass.”

The pair of them continued to fly around. James regretted not bringing a quaffle with him to play around with, but the idea of doing Quidditch drills with Black of all wizards was enough to make him laugh.

Once they were far enough away from the house that James was sure his Mum and Dad couldn’t see him anymore, he turned on Black. “So, we’re away from my parents now. You going to tell me why you’re here?”

“No.”


“So you admit that your whole ‘my parents are sick’ story is a lie?” James continued.

Black rolled his eyes. “Why would I lie?”


“Because you’re a dark wizard?” James pointed out, “A Black? We’re on different sides of a war. My parents might still be in denial, but I’m not!”

Black’s lips curled, “So what’s your plan then? Kill me, while I’m unarmed and stuck on a bloody broomstick?”

James hesitated. He should, shouldn’t he? The war was looming closer than before. He knew that by the time they graduated Hogwarts, the two of them would be on the front lines. Both of them were skilled wizards, the pair of them always fighting it out to be top of the class for DADA. James was always comfortably first in transfiguration, Black in charms, while the other top positions were taken by Remus, Lily, Snape and two Ravenclaw girls.

He was already planning on joining the Aurors once he left Hogwarts and he’d heard rumours that Dumbledore was the man to talk to about under the table fighting against You-Know-Who. It was already known that all the older Slytherins were either planning on joining You-Know-Who, or avoiding fighting altogether if they could. As a member of the Black family, James already knew which camp Sirius Black belonged to.

But right now, they were fifteen years old, staring at each other from opposite broomsticks.

Black was unarmed.

What if, when they met again after graduation, he wasn’t? What if he was just another face behind those creepy masks the Death Eaters wore? What if he was here to kill the Potters, and by not attacking him, James was just going to let it happen?

Black raised an eyebrow at James. “Coward.”

James surged forward as he shot towards Black, clipping him roughly on the shoulder.

Black’s pained cry echoed behind him and James smirked, hot fury in his chest. Bloody snakes, calling him a coward for not trying to kill him. Maybe he should just try and send a message to Black, a clear one: you’re not welcome here, despite what my parents are pretending.

Then, James heard a thud.

He turned his head, staring at the broomstick in the air. The empty broomstick, what didn’t have a rider on it. James looked down.

On the ground, he could see a prone body.

“Oh no,” James swore and as dove towards the ground.

Black was lying there, on his side.

For a terrifying moment, James thought he may have killed Black. Falling off a broom wasn’t too terrifying most of the time — even first years knew wingardium leviosa to cast on themselves if they fell, but Black had been unarmed.

“Black?” James asked, “Black? Sirius!”

There was no response.

He knelt down, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw Black’s chest rising and falling. He was breathing. Still alive. James wouldn’t be going to Azkaban for murdering his classmate.

“Renervate,” he cast.

Black’s eyes shot open, and he screamed.

James had had his fair share of injuries. He’d surprised people with a number of pranks and had even heard Remus’ yell after he accidentally covered a cut in salt during potions. But he’d never heard a scream as loud as that one.

“Shut up! Black, shut up!” James ordered, “Are you dying?”

Black’s breathing was all screwed up, too short to be normal. He was trembling as he gestured to his ribcage.

“Okay,” James said. “I know like, three healing spells.”

Black’s eyes filled with horror.

“It’s just until we get to Mum,” James said, “Then-”

“No!” Black’s voice was off, like he’d just been punched in the gut.

“You almost died!” James said, “I have to tell my Mum!”

“No!” Black repeated, “Heal me.”


James blanched, “I’m really not that good at healing. Let me look at it first.” Without waiting for a response, James pulled up the bottom of Black’s jumper (his jumper, really) and winced.

Black’s whole torso seemed to be covered in a layer of bruises, as well as a long cut that went all the way across his stomach.

James frowned. He’d had enough quidditch injuries to recognise a new injury from an old one. These couldn’t be from the fall. “What the hell?”

Black glared at James, “Just heal me,” he said, “I’ll be fine with sleep.”

James looked at him in disbelief, “With sleep? You’ll die in your sleep.”

“No, I won’t,” Black replied, with a strange amount of certainty. “So unless you want to tell your Mum that you tried to murder me, do your best healing and I’ll sleep the rest of it off.”

“What are you getting from this?” James demanded. “Slytherins don’t just offer to not get a Gryffindor in trouble — especially me, so how is this benefitting you?”

Black glowered at him. “Please,” he said the word like it pained him, “Just keep your mouth shut.”

James scowled, sitting on his hunches. He didn’t like this. Black was acting weird, he had been since he’d arrived. But at the same time, James didn’t want his Christmas break getting even more ruined by getting in trouble for accidentally knocking Black off his broom.

“Fine,” he said, “No skin off my back if you die in your sleep.”

“Glad we’re agreed,” Black said.

James sighed. “I can try to heal you a bit, but my mate Remus, you know, Remus Lupin? He’s in our year, a Gryffindor—”

“Yes I know Lupin!” Black cut him off, “Get to the healing!”

“Anyways, Lupin’s coming ‘round tomorrow and he knows way more about healing.”

Black looked even more put off, but didn’t reply.

James began to heal him. They weren’t good healing spells, not really meant for anything but repairing the most minor of cuts, but James figured it was better than nothing. Besides, Black’s breathing sounded moderately better now.

“We’ll have to fly back,” James said, “Can you fly?”

Black scowled, “Not sure,” he admitted.

“You’ll go on the back of mine then,” James said, not delighted about the idea of Black grabbing onto him in the air.

They rode back together, a sad sight. Thankfully, the sun had begun to set so they managed to sneak through the front door without his parents seeing them.

James dumped Black on the couch, thankfully out of view of his parents.

It was only when he sat down for supper that he froze, noticing Black’s wand was missing from his back pocket. 


Chapter Text

Going from bad to worse seemed to be the theme for this winter break. Just when James decided that maybe, just maybe the two of them might survive another day stuck together in his house, Black stole his wand back.

“James, are you sitting up straight? Did a niffler undo your belt?” Dad asked, as he noticed how stiff James was sitting at the table.

James let out a tense laugh, one that even to him sounded fake and panicked, “Haha, Dad. No. Of course not.”

Dad only raised an eyebrow, now looking concerned.

Deep breath, James, he reminded himself. Nothing’s wrong. Sirius Black doesn’t have his wand back because you stole it to taunt him. He won’t kill your entire family as you sleep, or bring in his dark friends to do it themselves. Nope. He’s just sitting at supper, while Sirius Black was sitting in the living room, armed without anyone else but him knowing it.

Dad looked at the food on the table, raising his wand and casting a quick, “Revelio,” at it.

Nothing happened and James tried to let out a somewhat convincing laugh, “Dad, do you think I’d really charm the food?”

“After the living jello incident of ‘69, I don’t take chances,” Dad replied.

“Dad!” James rolled his eyes. “That was accidental magic. I was like, 9 when that happened.”

Dad shook his head fondly, “Your Mum and I broke plates and tripped our siblings. Only you, Jaime, enchanted jello with accidental magic.”

James flushed a little at the teasing.

“Sirius? You’ve finally seen fit to bless us with your presence?” Mum’s voice echoed from the living room.

James tensed, waiting for the inevitable spell to come out of Black’s mouth, or for a horrible scream. Even Dad twisted in his chair in the direction of the hallway towards the living room, surprised.

But instead of a scream, James heard Black’s aristocratic accent, “I assure you, Mrs. Potter, that my presence is a blessing worth waiting for.”

James mimed puking. Bloody conceited, pigheaded Black.

Dad let out a quiet chuckle.

“Hmm,” Mum said, “We’ll see about that won’t we, seeing as you’ll be sitting with us for supper now.”

A small silence, and then, “Of course, Mrs. Potter.”

James scowled.

A moment later, the two of them were standing in the dining room, as Mum rushed into the kitchen to grab the dishes.

Black sat opposite to James, who had to admit that he wasn’t walking like a man who had a massive cut on his chest and who’d fallen something like twenty feet from a broomstick. Instead, Black was practically lounging in the chair, a bored expression on his face as his mad grey eyes stared at James.

There is a wand on him, James reminded himself. Injured or not, Black was still carrying his wand and was just as capable as casting the killing curse as anyone else.

“So, Sirius,” Dad said, “Any word from your family? Are they healthy yet?”

Sirius shook his head, “No, Sir. But I’m sure they will be soon.”

“Hmm,” Mum said, “I hope it’s just a common cold. I heard Dragon Pox is going around these days.”

James stared at Black, suspiciously. He’d all but admitted that his whole ‘sick family’ thing was a lie. He hadn’t admitted to being there to hurt the Potters, but James knew that that was exactly why he was here. All he had to do was prove it.

Black caught his gaze and only smirked.

The conversation moved on, Black occasionally chiming in with the most ridiculously over complimentary compliments to his mother and father.

“You don’t have a house elf? I’ll have to speak to Mother about hiring a witch to cook our meals, this is much better than Kreacher’s dishes.”

“Oh, Sirius, I’m sure your house elf is a wonderful cook.”

“Not compared to you, Mrs. Potter.”

“You must tell me where you buy your robes, Mr. Potter. The family tailor in France has been…lacking, in recent years. My father would be happy to learn where you get yours from.”

Dad laughed a little, “Twilfitt and Tattings, of course. We Potters have been regulars there for centuries, now.”

Black eyed James’ muggle clothes, a curious expression in his eyes. “Have you now? I’ll be sure to let him know.”

James ground his teeth, as Black continued giving his parents the most ridiculously unnecessary compliments, the two of them slowly giving way from polite smiles, to charmed ones. How could that bastard be succeeding in charming his parents over? Hadn’t he gotten it into their heads already, that Black was a dark wizard? It didn’t matter how well-mannered they thought he was, or how aristocratic his accent was, he was most likely plotting the death of the Potter family over the chicken they were eating tonight.

“So, Black,” James interrupted his father’s story about how his day at work had been. “What symptoms, exactly, has your family been experiencing?”

Black blinked, before shrugging, “Mother wasn’t too specific. Only that they were unwell and didn’t wish for me to get sick as well.”

“Do you think it’s a muggle or wizarding disease?”

Black looked at James like he’d grown a second head, “Wizarding, obviously, Potter. Does my family seem the sort to have a muggle disease?”

Dad let out a cough, “Why don’t we change the subject?”

Black seemed to figure out the implications of what he said. In all the well-mannered compliments, he must have forgotten exactly why the Blacks and Potters didn’t associate. The reason the Potters were viewed as blood traitors.

“Oh, no Mr. Potter, I only meant—”

“Never you mind, Sirius,” Mum interrupted. “Monty, dear, how did work go today?”

Black looked paler than normal and fixed James with a murderous expression once both the parents had looked away.

A point for himself, James decided. A quick reminder of Black’s true loyalties, and his oh-so-charming disguise cracked.

Then, James noticed the chicken in the middle of the table jerk, ever so slightly.

He frowned, had he just imagined that?

No one else at the diner table even seemed to blink at it.

James took another bite of his mashed potatoes, deciding to take another crack at Black. “So, that house-elf you said was a bad cook, Kreacher, was it?”

Black’s eyes flickered up as he sneered, “Yes, what about it?”

“It?” James repeated, frowning, “Is that really how families like yours see magical creatures?”

Mum made a little noise. She was something of a house-elf lover. She’d had a doting one in her house as a child and reminiced about how the elf was considered part of the family, and how sad she had been when she’d realised the Potters didn’t have one.

The three Potters turned to Black, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Kreacher serves the Black family.” Not even he could hide the contempt in his voice when he mentioned Kreacher by name.

“Huh,” James said, doing his best to make his questioning seem casual and good natured, “I heard this rumour, you know. Something about old pureblood families killing their house-elves once they’re too old. Is that true?”

Black’s lips curled, “Why does it matter?”

“It’s a yes or no question,” James said.

“Boys,” Dad said, “Enough about house elves.”

The ugly silence left after though, was enough confirmation. Mum looked a little green.

Two points for James.

Black’s murderous expression turned darker, if possible, as he stabbed into his potato harshly.

James dug into his with a little more relish.

Then, the cooked chicken jerked again.

“Did that chicken just move?” Black asked, staring at the thing.

Hell if James was going to confirm anything for Black, so he stayed quiet, shrugging.

Mum and Dad both said they hadn’t seen anything.

A stilted conversation continued for a few minutes, as the four of them raced to finish their meal so that they could separate.

And then, the chicken stood up.

James let out a quick laugh, seeing the thing do a little dance on the plate. Half the meat was missing, but it was managing to limp around with the bones it had left. James watched as the leg on Black’s plate rolled off, rejoining the rest of the chicken.

“James,” Mum said, “Stop playing with your food and eat.”

James frowned, “It’s not—”

Before he could say anything else, the chicken dove towards Black. Black let out a panicked yelp, as the chicken jumped onto his face, “Stop it!” Black tried to order, his voice muffled by the poultry.

“James! Enough,” Dad barked.

“It’s not me!” James insisted.

“Finite,” Mum cast at the chicken.

It dropped, newly limp, from Black’s face into his lap. His once spotless face was covered in grease and mess from the chicken and he looked slightly shocked. “What the hell was that for, Potter?”

James stared in disbelief at the furious expressions all directed at him, “I didn’t do anything!”

“Attacking my family isn’t enough, huh? Now you attack me? Is this another one of your pranks?” Black demanded, standing up and scowling.

“Boys,” Dad said, loudly. “Sirius, why don’t you use the washroom to wash up. James, why don’t you go to your room until you learn how we treat guests in our house.”

James stared at his father, open mouthed, “It wasn’t me! It was Black who did that!”

Dad stared in disbelief, “Sirius doesn’t even have a wand, James. Much less, why would he attack himself? I thought you’d matured a little since your enchanted jello days.”

That bastard, James cursed Black. He couldn’t reveal Black’s wand without revealing that he’d stolen it in the first place, never mind Black’s ammunition of James sort-of-almost-killing-him by knocking him off of his broom earlier. And by charming the chicken, remarking it on it and then having it attack him, Black had made himself as innocent as he could be.

Point Black.

He stormed up to his bedroom, slamming the door shut. At least tomorrow Remus would be here and then it would be 2 vs 1.

“He’s a cretin!” James shouted.

Remus agreed and nodded like a good friend.

James had been going on for nearly twenty minutes now, ever since Remus had popped out of the floo and James had yanked him outside.

“Turning my own parents against me and charming them to forget the kind of wizard Black is!” He continued.

Remus nodded along.

The two of them were sat on the edge of the front yard, Remus sitting with his back against a tree as James as James paced around it. It was a pretty standard situation for the two — James always had more energy than he knew what to do with, while Remus was frequently in pain due to full Moon nights, so James paced while Remus watched.

“Ugh,” James shouted, before collapsing on the ground and feeling the cold snow seeping through his clothes. He quickly stood up and casted a drying spell on them.

Remus laughed, “Maybe don’t fling yourself onto the cold, wet snow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” James muttered. “He’s awful, Remus. And weird. Like, he’ll attack himself with a chicken at dinner to blame me, but won’t tell my parents that he nearly died when he fell off his broomstick.”

Remus did a double take, “Black fell off his broomstick?”

James flushed. Black was an undeniably skilled beater who was more than competent on a broomstick, “Alright, maybe I hit him a little bit and then he fell.”

Remus’ eyes went wide, “You threw him off of his broomstick? How high were you?”

“Like, ten feet. Fifteen, maybe,” James admitted, “But it was barely anything more than a nudge, and it’s not like Black doesn’t deserve it. He’s going to be a —what are they calling them these days, a Death, erm, a Death…”

“Death eater,” Remus filled in, his expression dark.

“Right, anyways, Black’s going to be a death eater, if he isn’t one already.”

Remus winced, “I mean, you did make him fall fifteen feet, James.”

James rolled his eyes. Times like this, he wished Peter was here to agree with him. “Please, he was barely injured. You know, I was about to tell Mum to heal him, but he didn’t even act like he was in pain during all of diner?”

Remus frowned, “Really?”

“Yeah, see, weird! Massive cut on his chest, not to mention a broken rib or two at least, but he just sat there the whole time, before attacking himself with the damn chicken.”

“A broken rib?” Remus repeated, “And he didn’t seem like he was in pain?”

“Exactly!”

“Strange,” Remus agreed.

“And he was sneaking food from the kitchen at night,” James continued, “Walking around my house — it was lucky I had my invisibility cloak or I wouldn’t have known what he was doing at all.”

This time, Remus’ expression was full blown confusion, “He was sneaking around your house at night? To steal food?”

“Yeah?” Why did James feel like he was missing something. “It’s only because he didn’t want to eat at the diner table with blood traitors, Remus. Don’t think about it too much.”

He wanted to smack himself after he said that. If there was one thing Remus Lupin could be counted on doing, it was overthinking everything.

Remus was chewing on one of his fingernails, looking a little lost in thought.

“What?” James asked.

Remus let out a sigh, “Have you asked him about any of this?”

“A little,” James admitted. “He just lied, basically. Or ignored me.”

“Hmm.”

“Remus, what?” James repeated, losing his patience.

Remus drummed his fingers against the snow. “Hear me out, James.”

“Oh no,” James muttered.

“We can get Black to tell us the truth, if he thinks we’ll like the truth.”

“…Remus, whatever reason Black is here for, it’s likely something to do with Death Eaters. Do I need to remind you of the Potter blood traitor ness of it all? Or that we’re a light family, and they’re a dark one? That I’m a Gryffindor and he’s a Slytherin? We’re diametrically oppsosed. Whatever the truth is, I’ll hate it.”

“Not if he think you’ll support it.”

The silence was loud.

“Care to repeat that for me?”

“…Not if he thinks you’ll support it?” Remus said.

James was convinced that Remus Lupin had finally lost his mind. While most people tended to credit the ingenious pranks to James, he, Remus and Peter knew that often it was Remus who was the brains behind the operation. James might be smart, but Remus was clever. Which was why James was convinced that Remus’ brains had finally melted.

“Have you lost your bloody mind?”

“Hear me out,” Remus said, again. “You’re limiting yourself, James. Black’s in your house, invading your space and you’re letting him.”

“I am not—”

“Hush!” Remus ordered, “Think about it, properly. We’ve got a Slytherin, future Death Eater and a Black, in your house. Think of all the secrets, plans and loyalties in that brain of his, that you’re not doing anything to discover.”

James nodded slowly, his mind whirling. Remus did have a point. Black was in his house and James was sick of playing defence. But the alternative… “You’re not suggesting…”

Remus’ expression was grim, “Befriend Sirius Black and convince him that you’re on his side.”

Hearing those fateful words said aloud made James’ head spin. “But Remus…”

“You’ve been saying it for months, haven’t you?” Remus said, unhappily. “There’s a war coming. And we can’t win by pretending it isn’t happening.”

James swallowed. He’d been trying to convince everyone he knew that this war was happening, that it was going to get worse if they just kept ignoring it. To finally hear someone, his best friend of all people, treat it seriously, wasn’t the happy occasion he’d imagined it would be. Instead, it felt like a condemnation.

“Befriend Sirius Black,” James repeated. “By pretending to support his insane, pureblood, puritanical beliefs. That’s against everything the Potters, and I, stand for.”

Remus had moved to hold his knees to his chest, like a child. He nodded slowly, “Or ignore him and pretend nothing’s happening.”

“There had to be another way to get the answers,” James said. “I’ll make him answer me. Or, or, I’ll…”

“Or what? You’ll torture him?” Remus cut him off.

“No, I mean,” James bit his lip, not sure what he thought of anything. “Isn’t this a little extreme? Choosing between torture or everything I don’t believe in?”

“It’s war, isn’t it?” Remus replied. “Unless you want to pretend everything is normal as well.”

Remus certainly had a way of making him feel like an arsehole sometimes.

And James knew that he was right, but admitting and acting on it was something very different.

If he wanted to get answers out of Sirius Black, not to mention a rare chance to peek into what death eaters, Slytherins and purebloods were thinking, then befriending him was the easiest way.

“He’ll never be convinced by me,” James said, halfheartedly.

“Either you commit or you don’t,” Remus replied.

“But my parents, you and Peter, not to mention Lily, he’s everything we hate. And you want me to pretend I agree with him?”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” Remus replied.

“Why don’t you do it then?” James huffed.

“I’m a halfblooded for one, with a furry little problem for another.”

James hadn’t even been really trying to get Remus to switch with him. Everything suddenly felt darker, more dangerous and more real than ever before. He almost didn’t believe it was something he was considering.

“Whenever I pictured the war,” James said, “I always saw myself fighting on the good side. You know, as an Auror. Kicking the death eater’s arses and sending them to Azkaban. Not trying to befriend Sirius Black of all people. Agreeing with their shite. They hate blood traitors, muggleborns and creatures like you. And if I try to be friends with Black and agree to all of it…”

“It won’t be pretty,” Remus agreed. “But you don’t have to do this, James. We’re just kids. Black is a kid too.”

James sealed his will. Kid, or not, he knew this war was coming for a long time now. Even if the adults were in denial, he wasn’t. And if befriending and agreeing with Sirius Black could get him the answers as to why he was here and even more answers about the war, then who was he to hide behind his age?

“Maybe we are all kids,” James said. “But the adults aren’t taking it seriously, so we’ll be inheriting it anyways. Might as well start early.”

Remus stared at him with something like sorrow. James tried to keep his chin up.

Going from bad to worse, yet again.

Chapter Text

It was one thing to make a decision, a whole other to act on it, James realised as another hour of sleeplessness passed him by. He could hear Remus’ loud snores from the other bed in the room his parents had transfigured, and wished that his best friend wasn’t as clever as he was, or hadn’t taken James’ warnings about the upcoming war seriously. Befriend Sirius Black and convince him you’re on his side, he’d said. As if it was ever going to be that simple.

Peter would never say anything like that, James grumbled to himself. Peter would have shaken his head the moment Remus made that suggestion, because Peter cared about his friends being happy and content, more than he would have about stupid suggestions to help a war effort no adult was even taking seriously. If Peter were here, he would have laughed at Remus’ suggestion and James wouldn’t be tossing and turning at 3 o’clock in the bloody morning, dreading the upcoming day.

Blast Moony for taking him seriously.

James turned in his bed, glaring at the strands of mousy brown hair sticking out from the pile of blankets Remus had buried himself under.

It was a long, long night.

“James, darling you look exhausted,” Mum said, as he sat at the breakfast table.

“Did you two stay up playing Gobstones?” Dad teased him, ruffling his already disastrous mess of hair.

Remus had a sheepish smile on his face, as he grabbed a slice of toast from the table onto his plate.

James recognised that smile; it was one Remus had mastered back in Second Year. The perfect ‘Oh, you caught me Professor’ expression that led to Professors shaking their heads exasperated, while James and Peter snuck out without getting caught. They’d each perfected their own ways of sacrificing themselves to save the others when some of their mischief had been discovered. Remus’ patented sheepish smile was one of them.

James almost mirrored his expression, before deciding to cut his losses and settle for grabbing his Dad’s half-empty cup of coffee and draining it in a few gulps. Nasty stuff, coffee, especially since Dad took it black, but he did need to wake up. Hopefully no one would notice that Remus looked remarkably well-rested compared to the dark-eyed and yawning James.

“Any news from Sirius Black’s family?” Remus asked offhandedly, “James mentioned that they were rather ill.”

“I asked him that this morning,” Mum said. “He’s expecting an owl today.”

“Hopefully it’s good news,” Dad said. “Maybe he’ll be out of here today.”

James took another bite out of his egg, before noticing the silence and that every person had their eyes fixed on him.

“Are you feeling well?” Mum asked, “I thought you’d be jumping out of your seat with joy hearing that.”

Remus’ eyes were wide, but his parents were only focused on him. He raised his eyebrows, the question on his face clear: commit, or don’t.

James took a deep breath. The whole insane plan hinged on Black being in his home. And while he knew that Black was lying about his whole family being sick, if Black decided that the charade was up and he wanted to return to his family, the plan would fall apart. Like it or not, James needed his parents to think that he was warming up to Black.

“He’s not that bad,” James said slowly, as if it was painful to admit — which, yes, it was.

Mum and Dad stared at him, slack jawed.

“Monty, dear?” Mum said, “He’s not imperious, is he?”

“I’m more concerned about amortentia,” Dad said. “Remus, you didn’t lace his drink yesterday, did you?”

Remus chuckled, “That’s a brilliant idea, Mr. Potter. I can’t say I’d thought of it before though.”

James shrugged, trying to seem as bullish about the whole thing as he could he. “He’s an alright flyer.”

“Ah, there’s the secret to James’ ice cold heart then: quidditch,” Mum said, sounding self-satisfied, “I knew that I was doing when I told James to take Sirius out flying with him. Nothing can overcome house rivalries like being stuck together with nothing to do but fly together.”

Remus’ eyes had a glint of laughter in them; probably remembering how James had told him their little flying trip had gone: with him pushing Black off his broom and nearly killing him.

Dad still looked suspicious, but shrugged his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re maturing past house rivalries. Merlin knows how many adult wizards that still refuse to treat others with decency if they were sorted into their rival house at eleven years old.”

James tried to smile, “New year, new me.” He hated how much it felt like a damnation.

After cleaning up breakfast, he and Remus went back outside. The weather was colder today, the chilly winds biting them through their coats, as thick snow wetted their hair. They were making their way to the town of Godric’s Hollow, hoping to catch the last of the Christmas lights before they vanished.

“I love your Dad,” Remus said. “Glad you’re maturing past house rivalries,” he imitated his Dad’s voice. “I can’t believe he said that with a straight face.”

James let out a laugh, “Mum believed it. And she credited herself for making me go flying with him.”

“You’re such an only child,” Remus said. “Of course your parents believe you. He made his voice high pitched like his mother’s, “Oh, James-y, you’re the most perfect son, changing your views on house rivalry with so much maturity—”

“Sod off!” James gave Remus a shove.

“You’re an only child too, so you can’t tease me about it,” James continued, as Moony landed in a snowbank and made an indignant squawk, before standing back up and brushing the snow off his legs.

Remus rolled his eyes, “I might not have any siblings, but you’re way more of an only child than I’ve ever been. Oh James-y, you’re the light of our lives, of course we’ll buy you a new broomstick every Christmas, and of course we’ll let you invite all your Gryffindor friends over whenever you ask, anything for you, James-y.”

James smirked. Remus was right, and they both knew it. He was spoiled, and happy about it. “Don’t see you complaining when Mum sends me a bucket of sweets every month.”

“Who says I’m complaining?” Moony replied.

James felt a cold weight seeping through his neck. “Moony!” He yelled, as he realised his friend had dumped a bunch of snow onto his neck. James did his best to shake it off, but settled for tackling Remus to the ground and shoving a fistful of snow into his face in return.

They scuffled for a few minutes, until they were both tired, sweaty and covered in melting snow.

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

They made it to the town square, where the statue of Godric Gryffindor stood at in its full eight foot tall glory, occasionally pumping his fist into the air, or swinging his sword. James had always been proud of being from Godric’s Hollow — when he was a kid, he’d even pretended to be Godric Gryffindor himself, wielding his stick that was either a wand or a the Sword of Gryffindor and stabbing dark wizards through their eyes.

He walked up to it and brushed the snow off of the inscription that he’d read every time he walked past the statue. Godric Gryffindor, it read. The bravest of his time.

James ran his finger over the carved letters. “Do you think he thinks we’re being brave?”

Remus’ expression sobered, the cheery mood vanishing. “He’s a statue, James. I don’t think he thinks much at all.”

“Don’t be a blockhead,” James said. “Gryffindor, the man. The founder of our house. Do you think what I’m doing is — Merlin, I sound stupid for saying this — but do you think he’d be proud of our plan?”

What had his life come to that he was worried about what a 1000 year dead wizard thought of his actions?

“Of course,” Remus said lightly, “Befriending Sirius Black and finding out enemy secrets is exactly the kind of Gryffindor thing he’d want you to do.”

“Yeah?”

“Duh,” Remus said. “Unless you’d think he’d rather you be a coward and refuse to acknowledge that war is coming?”

James relaxed, as the statue’s heavy gaze landed on him. He waved up to the status, which gave him a wave back, before he and Remus shuffled off through the snow to sit down the local (and only) pub, the uncreatively named Godric’s Pub.

They both ordered butter beers and began thawing off from the cold winds. The pub was relatively quiet, only a few other people were inside and James recognised them all as locals. A few of them sent fond looks and small waves to James when they recognised him. They got their drinks from the barkeep and settled into a small booth in the corner of the pub.

“We should probably plan a way to get you into Black’s good books,” Remus said. He took a long sip of his butter beer, ending up with a foamy moustache that James wasn’t planning on informing him off.

James made a face, “Just shout gross pure-blood stuff?”

Remus shook his head, looking fond, “We’ll need to be subtle. Black won’t trust you an inch if you, known blood traitor with a crush on a muggle born, of all people starts saying all that kind of stuff.”

“Fine. I’ll start small then,” He suggested. “Um, I’ll…” he hesitated. He was the opposite of all that pure-blood nonsense that even the barest hints of it felt disgusting to even think about. “I’ll just complain about muggles?”

Remus didn’t look convinced, “We can’t go too slow. We need this done before winter holidays are over, and that’s in only a week.”

James scowled. Term began again on January 4th, not giving them much time before school started. “I can’t exactly convincingly go from me to an insane pure-blood freak in a week.”

“You’re right,” Remus agreed, “We’ll have to give you a head start.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Pretend that you’ve been thinking these things for longer than you have,” then, a dangerous spark light up his eyes, the kind that only appeared before Remus figured out the key to an ingenious prank. Normally, James relished that look in his eyes, but today he only felt a bit of dread.

“We’ll have a fight.”

James looked at Remus in disbelief, “A fight?”

Remus nodded eagerly, “It’s perfect. We don’t even have to really fight, just as long as Black believes we have. We can do it as soon as we get back to your home.”

“How?”

“We’ll storm inside, pretending we’ve been fighting the entire way home. We’ll go to your room, make sure Black can hear us, but we’ll spell it so that your parents can’t — how’s your silencio?”

“It’s good,” James said, half insulted that Moony had even asked at all.

“Well cast that over the stairwell, so your parents don’t hear anything but Black will hear it all through the door to his room,” Remus continued, “We won’t say anything insane, but we can pretend you insulted by muggle mother, or that I insulted some old type of pure-blood ritual or something. Then, I storm out, floo home and Black thinks you believe enough of that pure-blood nonsense to the degree that we got into a fight bad enough that I left!”

James grinned, “That’s brilliant!” That way, his parents wouldn’t think that their son had started to embrace pure-blood propaganda and Black wouldn’t think they were performing for him, since he’d just be in his bedroom.

“And it means you’ll get to be alone with him. I’ll owl Peter too, tell him not to come.”

James’ expression fell, “You’re not actually going to leave, are you?”

“I told you,” Remus said, “It has to be convincing. Not the kind of fight we get over and forget about after a few hours.”

“But you’re supposed to be visiting over winter break!” James whined. “He’s already ruined so much of my Christmas…”

“Really? That’s your biggest concern?” Remus asked, “We’ll see each other back at Hogwarts in a week either way.”

James let out a loud sigh, “This is the worst Christmas of my life, Moony. And it’s all Black’s bloody fault.” Moony leaving after only a day, Peter not coming at all, never mind him having to play nice with Sirius Black of all wizards, while pretending to agree with disgusting beliefs.

“Then make it worth the sacrifice,” Remus replied,

That, at least was something James could agree with.

The two of them cheers each other, as Remus caught as glimpse of his foamy moustache in the reflection of the window and got revenge by tilting James’ glass while he was drinking, making him sputter up butter beer all over his face.

The closer they got to home, the more upset James’ stomach was. He and Remus were both good actors, something that had been useful in their pranking over the years. He kept trying to think of their planned fight as just another prank, but none of their pranks, even the nastier ones, involved spouting vitriol.

Remus didn’t seem to share any of his concerns, seeming only disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to say a proper goodbye to James’ Mum and Dad when he stormed out of the house.

“It’s impolite,” Remus said, “I like your parents.”

James rolled his eyes, “They’ll like you just fine after this. Trust me, I’m sure I’ll be blamed for the whole thing, not you.”

The house came into view.

James took a deep breath, as they walked through the front door.

He could hear his parent’s voices coming from the kitchen, a stroke of good luck, so they were able to get to the stairs without being seen. Once they were both up a few steps, James pointed his wand at the last step, “Silencio,” he cast, tracing his wand around the entirety of the space between the stair and the hallway. He didn’t want his parents to even hear a whisper of the stuff he was about to say.

“Ready?” Remus whispered.

“Unfortunately,” James replied.

Remus smiled and gave him a quick hug, “I’ll see you back on the Hogwarts Express.”

“You too,” James replied.

Remus backed away from him, crossing his arms across his chest. “Merlin, I can’t believe you James!”

“It’s not the serious, Remus!”

“Not that serious? Are you joking? You better be joking.”

They both heard a small creak coming from Black’s room.

Remus smirked and gestured for James to continue.

“You’re taking it too seriously,” James yelled back, “I didn’t say anything that isn’t true.”

“My mother is a muggle, James! When you call them uncivilised and fire-happy monkeys, you’re calling my Mum that too!”

This was getting to the nastier part. James looked up at Black’s room, spotting two shadows in the doorway that looked an awful lot of like feet. Commit, he urged himself. “It was a bloody joke, Remus! Do you know how many wizards and witches they murdered during the witch-hunts?”

The witch-hunts had to be one of the most well known pure-blood points. Even James, who knew that the vast majority of captured wizards had been able to charm themselves to only feel the fire as a tickle, still felt uncomfortable about it. They had driven magical society into hiding, after all. But more importantly, it was more believable that James might believe that piece of propaganda than others.

“I don’t care!” Remus yelled back, “I didn’t think you were the kind of pure-blood who cared about things like that.”

And now they were at the heart of the argument.

“And I didn’t think you were the kind of half-blood who didn’t care about the murders of witches and wizards. Your Mum would have burnt you and your Dad if she’d been alive back then, admit it.”

“Take that back.”

“No. It’s the truth.”

“Die in a hole, Potter,” Remus yelled, before he ran down the stairs and sent him a little wave, before he stomped loudly to the living room.

James heard a faint yell of his address into the floo, before Remus’ shadow vanished.

James took a deep breath, “Finite,” he cast quietly at the area he’d silenced. He leaned his head against the wall, still full of adrenaline from the fake fight. Even though he and Remus had planned it out, he still felt dirty from saying those words. Mrs. Lupin was an amazing woman, always perfectly polite and nice to James in the rare occasions they visited his house.

He could imagine the hurt in her expression if she found out what James had called her — and worse, what he accused her of. She loved her husband and son, she’d never have burnt them at the stake, or outed them as magic, even if they’d been alive at the height of witch-hunting.

“Was that Remus going home by the floo?” Mum’s head appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah,” James said, trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. “We just had a small fight.”

Mum sighed, “Teenagers,” she mumbled, “Be sure to apologise to him if you’re in the wrong, James. Will he be back for supper?”

“No.”

James made his way further upstairs, passing Black’s room before he heard the door open behind him.

Black stood in the doorway, looking at James with a curious expression. He couldn’t help but feel as though Black was judging him. “Trouble in paradise?”

James scowled, “Sod off, Black.”

Black glared in response. “Don’t tell me what to do, Potter.”

James was about to hex him, when he remembered Remus’ words: Then make it worth the sacrifice. Commit, James, he urged himself.

Black looked slightly confused about James’ long pause.

James took a deep breath, “Remus just doesn’t get it,” he finally said, as though he was still full of adrenaline and desperate to let all of that energy out, “He’s a half-blood, how can he understand that his Mum would have wanted him dead if he’d just been born a few centuries earlier.”

Black nodded, slowly, before he shrugged noncommittally, “Mothers are more bloodthirsty than most people like to pretend.”

Why did James feel like there was an ominous undercurrent to Black’s words?

Despite that, it was the friendliest conversation the pair of them had ever had, aside from when they’d shared a compartment during their first ever journey to Hogwarts.

Black nodded sharply at James, before he closed his bedroom door.

James went into his own, lying down on his bed, facing the ceiling. The plan had begun. Hopefully, he could get all the information he needed out of Black before they went back to Hogwarts, and then he could be back to running around with Moony and Peter and no one else would ever learn about the fake fight, or the horrendous things James had said.

For the first time in his life, James wished the winter holidays would be over already.

Chapter Text

If someone had told Sirius Black a week ago that he’d have spent Christmas at the Potters’, he would have laughed in their face, and then hexed them into oblivion. But now he was lying on the Potters’ guest bed, in the Potters’ guest bedroom, wearing Potters’ clothes. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

Sirius Black hated Christmas. He hated it with every inch of himself, deeply and fully. He hated putting up with his relatives, with being confined to Grimmauld Place without anyone but his mother, father and little brother for company. It meant completing homework over the winter break and proving to his family that he was advancing in his studies quickly enough.

And if he was found to not be advancing quickly enough…well, his growling stomach was just another consequence. It had been three days now, since he’d been banished to his room and he’d begun counting down until Christmas dinner because he was almost certain that he’d be allowed out to eat for that.

His room was decorated the same it had been his entire life, a dark green wall paper with silver accents. The dark wood floors, which were covered in his old clothes, school supplies and other things he hadn’t been bothered to put away, creaked beneath his feet. But aside from that, as well as a few Slytherin decorations he’d put up during First Year, his room was wholly blank.

“Siri?” A knock on his bedroom door.

He opened it, only to see his little brother standing outside.

Regulus was the only part of Grimmauld Place he didn’t dread. They’d always been close, mostly due to both them growing up without anyone else. In every other way, they were opposites: Sirius was loud, brash and impulsive, while Reg was reserved, thoughtful and careful. If they hadn’t been stuck growing up in a horrid house together, he doubted they’d have ever become friends, but they’d been forced together.

“What?”

“Mother wants you to come downstairs,” Regulus said.

Regulus was already dressed in his formal dress robes, mandatory for Christmas Eve dinner, even when it was just their small family attending. Sirius’ own were hanging off his chair, untouched since Kreacher had put them there.

“Not banned from leaving my room anymore?” Sirius asked.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Regulus asked, “Mother will—”

“Mother will yell and fight no matter how I appear,” Sirius cut him off.

“You can’t provoke her!” Regulus insisted, “Or insult her, or—”

“Just hold my tongue like a good little boy?”

Regulus glared at him, “Yes.”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Please,” Regulus said.

To call Sirius’ relationship with his mother turbulent was an understatement. The two of them had never gotten along. He’d been too energetic, too wild and thrill seeking as a kid to ever get her approval. Things had only gotten worse over the years; sharp words becoming slaps, getting sent to bed without supper extending to being locked in his room for days without food, and the occasional none-too-gentle charm becoming vicious hexes. Nowadays, the two of them could scarcely be in a room together for more than a minute without an argument starting.

But Regulus was asking him not to. While Sirius invited conflict, Regulus seemed like he was allergic to it, getting quieter than he usually was when it happened and practically shrinking into the shadows of a room. His hands would tremble and his eyes would be locked on the floor, before he’d flee to his bedroom until the shouting ended.

Sirius gave him a small smile, “No guarantees, but I’ll try.”

Regulus smiled back at him in return.

The dinner table was set when they arrived downstairs, the fancy silverware laid out perfectly.

Sirius pulled at his dress robe. It was old-fashioned, stiff and heavy. It felt like a weight on his shoulders, dragging him down onto the floor. The silver trimmings gleamed brightly, reflecting off the dim firelight of the house.

“Must I remind you?” Mother’s voice was sharp.

Sirius straightened in his chair so quickly that he nearly gave himself whiplash.

Regulus didn’t move, already sitting with a perfect posture in the chair opposite to Sirius, looking every bit the proper purebred son he was supposed to.

Sirius didn’t doubt that he looked the same now, having sat through the same etiquette, manner and posture lessons as him. His back still ached at the memories of the altered petrificus totalus charm that his Mother had favoured, which had bound everything but his head and arms into the perfect posture and didn’t remove it for hours. It had cast near-daily until he’d escaped to Hogwarts.

“Good evening, Walburga. Boys,” Father greeted them, as he entered the dining room. He took his chair at the head of the table, the candlelight reflecting in his dark, inky black eyes.

“Good evening, Father,” Regulus said dutifully.

“Father,” Sirius said dispassionately.

Mother sneered at him, “You call that respect?”

Sirius scowled, ready to fire an insult back at her, but Regulus caught his eyes, pleading silently.

Sirius took a deep breath, “Good evening, Father.”

“Better,” Mother said.

Oh yes, Sirius despised Christmas.

The goblets filled themselves with a red wine, as Kreacher levitated the food in from the kitchen.

Sirius’ stomach growled loudly, at which Regulus winced. Neither Mother or Father gave him a glance.

With the food on their plates, Sirius began eating.

“Walburga,” Father said. “The Dark Lord has agreed to our request.”

Mother smiled coldly, “Excellent.”

Sirius looked between the two of them. The Dark Lord had been becoming a more frequent topic in the past few years. He heard whispers in the Slytherin Common Room about him, with more and more of his housemates discussing joining him in the future.

“What deal?”

“The lack of respect for your elders—” Mother began.

“Let him speak, he’s nearly a man,” Father said.

Mother’s lips thinned, but she nodded. “I suppose if the Dark Lord agrees, he must be.”

Sirius stared in astonishment. The phrase ‘children should be seen and not heard’ was the rule that he and Regulus had lived by since they were babies. Mother and Father had even used to cast silencio at them if they spoke out when they weren’t supposed to. Even though they were both well into their teenager hood, the rule still applied (though Sirius was more certain these days that it had less to do with them being loud kids and more to do with Mother disliking him).

Regulus was staring at him, wide eyed from the other side of the table.

“What does the Dark Lord want with me?” Sirius asked.

“How are your…advanced techniques?” Father asked, ignoring Sirius’ question entirely.

By advanced techniques, Sirius knew the dirty word they weren’t saying: the unforgivable curses.

“I haven’t been able to practice since summer,” Sirius finally responded, trying to figure out why they were asking him all these questions. In combination with the mention of the Dark Lord, it was not looking like there would be a good outcome.

Mother let out a displeased huff, “They were weak, this summer. A squib could have performed them better than you.”

Sirius clenched his jaw. Ignore her, ignore her, ignore her.

“Even Regulus can cast a half-decent imperio. But yours are still broken as easily as glass.”

Regulus glanced away, looking down at the table when his name was mentioned. His dark, curly hair fell over his face.

Sirius felt more alone than ever. “You told Regulus he had until graduation—”

“You are not Regulus!” Mother hissed, “You are the heir, Sirius Orion. You can’t be foolish enough to believe you would have the same allowances as your little brother.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t hate anyone enough to cast an unforgivable at them!” Sirius exploded, standing up so fast that his chair careened backwards, crashing into the ground.

A manic look entered his mother’s eyes, “You dare disrupt dinner?”

“Quiet,” Father’s voice broke between them.

He flicked his wand at Sirius, who found himself sitting back in his chair, immobilised apart from his head and arms. Bloody posture spells.

Regulus still hadn’t looked up from the table.

“Walburga, please,” Father said.

She let out a heavy sigh, “Control your son. I won’t let him bring shame to the Black family.”

Father stared at Sirius, as though he was trying to dissect him with his eyes.

Sirius scowled, raising his chin defiantly.

A quick stinging hex fired in response made him wince, his fists clenching as his fingernails dug into his skin.

“Perhaps that is the problem with him,” Father said. “Sirius has always been emotional. Too attached. Taking pity upon the muggles, instead of hexing them like he should have.”

“Weak,” Mother accused him. She sighed, “The Dark Lord will never stand for that.”

“Hmm,” Father said.

The sharp edge of the wooden table was digging painfully into his chest, but Sirius was too enveloped into the conversation to even notice.

“What exactly does the Dark Lord want with me?” He repeated his question from earlier.

Regulus had looked up from the table, careful to avoid making eye contact with anyone as he took a bite of his peas.

“As the heir to the Black family,” Father said, “There are expectations you will fulfil.”

“I know,” Sirius said. “I’ve been told that my entire life.”

Mother scowled, “Show some respect.”

Sirius barely held himself back from rolling his eyes.

“The Dark Lord has taken an interest in aligning himself with our illustrious house,” Father said.

Yeah, obviously, Sirius thought to himself. Practically the entire Slytherin house were gossiping about their parents joining the Dark Lord’s ranks, more names being added to the gossip every week. Malfoy, Nott, Bingley, Lestrange. After Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had made their sympathies clear, Sirius had known it would only be a matter of time before the Dark Lord sought out the support of the eldest house in Great-Britain.

“And why does this involve me?”

“Securing our influence in his organisation will give us access to more ancient pure-blood houses, as well as untold opportunities in the Ministry and throughout wizarding society to cleanse it, as well as a promise to disregard the debt certain fools have put us in.”

The Dark Lord and Father had struck a deal then: the Black’s name, in return for their debts to be wiped. The Blacks used to be wealthy, but bad investments, gambling and waste had resulted in them loosing almost everything. It was a well kept secret, but apparently not well enough.

“And what does he want with him?” Sirius repeated himself, yet again.

“Speak with more respect!” Mother screeched, sending another singing hex his way that made his gasp in pain. “You have been granted a great honour by the Dark Lord, with the chance to become the youngest wizard to join him. And as the heir, the connections this will result in will bring about a new great age for the House of Black.”

Sirius’s breath got caught in his throat. “I…I am to join him?”

“Yes,” Mother said with a cold smile.

“But I have the trace,” Sirius said, “And I have not even taken my OWLs yet.”

“Why should that have any bearing on whether a Black can join him? Don’t mistake us for a common wizard, Sirius.”

“But the unforgivable,” Sirius said, “He’ll expect me to know how to do them won’t he? Bella had them mastered before she was fourteen!”

Mother sneered, “Don’t remind me. You will master them yourself before Easter, or else.”

“Why Easter?”

Mother’s smile was the happiest one Sirius had ever seen, “He’ll mark you that night.”

Sirius’ world turned upside down. Easter was only a few months away. He thought he had time, at least a year before he’d be expected to start associating with the Dark Lord. Even Avery and Mulciber, who were both proud of their families’ allegiances to the Dark Lord, constantly complained about not being allowed to join before they turned seventeen. Sirius had planned for a lot, but not for this.

“Mother? May I speak?” Regulus interrupted.

“Yes, Regulus.”

“You said Siri—”

Mother cut him off, “You’re no longer a child, don’t use a childish name for him.”

“My apologies, Mother. You said Sirius had to master the unforgivable by Easter, or else. What do you mean by ‘or else’?”

An oily smile spread across Mother’s face. “Or else the Dark Lord will be displeased by his failure.”

Sirius stared at her in horror.

“Displeased?” Regulus said, his voice unnaturally thin.

“It is no worries,” Mother continued, “I assured him that there are two Black sons. If the heir were to fail in casting an unforgivable, the spare would gladly take his place. Perhaps using the failure instead of a muggle to demonstrate his own mastery of the unforgivables.”

Sirius and Regulus stared at each other. The heir and the spare. Sirius swallowed. Regulus looked away, but Sirius could see his hands trembling.

He’d known that there would eventually be consequences. Ever since he’d been unable to sit still for his lessons, while Regulus had been dutifully copying down every word Mother had said. Ever since he’d shouted back at Mother, while Regulus has remained quiet.. Ever since he’d been unable to make a muggle flinch while casting a crucio, or to even jump in the air after an imperio, while Regulus had succeeded after only a few tries.

Sirius just hadn’t expected the consequences to happen so soon, or so severe.

If he appeared before the Dark Lord and failed to cast the unforgivables, Regulus would charged with casting them at Sirius instead.

Mother would have solved the ‘Sirius’ problem, Father would have his debts wiped since Regulus, the new heir, would be associated with the Dark Lord. And Regulus, despite his reservation and obedience, wouldn’t do it. Not until they forced him to, and Sirius didn’t want Regulus hurt beyond repair just to delay the inevitable.

No, Sirius would have to master the unforgivables before Easter.

“Father? That can’t be true, can it?” Regulus asked.

Father merely nodded his head at them, “Sometimes, one just make sacrifices to ensure the success of the family.”

Sirius was pretty sure Father had never been the sacrifice he spoke so lightly of.

“Besides, Sirius has always enjoyed a challenge,” Father continued, “And I believe that I may have found the solution to his continued failure.”

“What?” Sirius asked, desperately.

“You said it yourself: you don’t hate anyone enough to cast a successful unforgivable.”

Sirius looked at him, nervously.

“There must be someone,” Father said. “Random muggles can’t incite your anger, but what about a Mudblood at your school? Regulus informed me that there was a mud blood head girl this year. Perhaps you can show her her rightful place, and then you will cast it successfully.”

“What about Potter?” Regulus spoke up.

Sirius scowled at just the mention of his name. He had no kind words for James Potter. Ever since their sorting into Gryffindor and Slytherin, the two of them had hated each other. Potter was spoiled, arrogant and cruel, amusing himself by hexing Slytherins in the hallways and acting as though he was saving wizard-kind by doing that.

Father had noticed his expression, “Potter?”

“James Potter,” Sirius said. “He’s a Gryffindor blood-traitor.”

Mother and Father both looked repulsed.

“And to think the Potters are still sacred twenty eight,” Mother said, with a shake of her head.

“Sirius hates him,” Regulus said. “They’re always hexing each other and putting one another in the hospital wing.”

“Is that true, Sirius?” Father asked.

“Yes,” Sirius admitted.

Father sighed, “That could be our solution then. It is a shame that you won’t be practicing against a mud blood, but—”

“I can’t cast an unforgivable at James Potter!” Sirius yelled, “His family is well connected, they’ll snap my wand and put me in Azkaban.”

“You know how to obliviate, don’t you?” Mother said.

Sirius nodded, reluctantly.

“Then, as long as you’re sneaky and clever, I don’t see how Potter will be a problem.”

Sirius stared at his parents, desperately hoping they would smile and tell him it was nothing more than a joke. Neither of them did, simply turning back to their meals.

Sirius felt like he was going to throw up. He might despise Potter, but he didn’t want to cast unforgivables against him. But then again, if he failed to perform them in front of the Dark Lord in a week’s time, then he’d most likely be dead and Regulus tortured.

“This is insane,” he said, glancing at his family. “You’ve promised our family to the Dark Lord, to erase our debts. And I have to master spells I haven’t been able to do for three years and now you're asking me to cast the unforgivables on James bloody Potter of all people!”

“Quiet!” Mother hissed, sending yet another stinging spell his way.

“No!” Sirius shouted, “Don’t tell me to be quiet, you’ve gone barmy and you’re having me killed because of it!”

“Crucio!”

Mother’s curse hit him directly in the chest.

Sirius felt pain envelop him, every nerve setting itself on fire as he fell off his chair, writhing on the floor. It went on forever, each millisecond passing with excruciating slowness. Just when he thought he’d die, the pain receded.

“You will address your parents with respect, Sirius Orion.”

Sirius lay on the floor, gasping for breath. His muscles trembled beneath him. He’d been crucioed before, but rarely. And this one felt worse than all the ones before it combined.

“Now, Sirius, stop making a fuss and finish Christmas dinner,” Father ordered.

Sirius used the chair to help him stand, his legs wavering beneath him. “You hate me,” he said, “So much that you’d rather me dead than alive.”

“Nonsense,” Mother said, “The Blacks do not tolerate failure. It is nothing more than that.”

Sirius felt his face flushing red, his eyes tearing up. He’d done everything to impress them, to finally be considered something other than a failure, but here his parents were, throwing it in his face.

“I hate you,” He hissed at them.

His Mother got a look in her eyes that made Sirius dash out of the dining room. He heard her shout another crucio, but it hit the doorframe rather than him.

He needed to escape.

“Crucio!”

This time, he didn’t dodge. It hit him, sending him down the floor. Endless pain that didn’t increase or decrease, only stayed the same, for long enough that he knew this was the end, that death would be preferable to this.

And then it was over.

“If you are not present at Easter, at the Malfoys, I will simply find you at Hogwarts,” Mother promised. “The next time I see you, you had better be able to cast those curses, or else.

She left him with one more crucio that left him bordering on unconciousness, before she strode out of the room.

“Siri?” Regulus appeared.

Sirius was barely able to open his eyes, just making out the pale form of his bother. He tried to respond, but the screaming had left his voice hoarse and raw.

“You need to go,” Regulus said. “You can do this, Siri. You need to.”

Sirius blinked lazily, almost asleep.

Regulus grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace, “Potter Manor!” With a surprising amount of strength, he managed to pull Sirius to his feet, before pushing him through the floo.

Ash, dust and flames surrounded him. Sirius coughed, barely able to stay conscious and then — he fell out, cool air coating his hot skin.

He fell against something prickly and tall. He opened his eyes, to see a Christmas tree next to him, before realising that he was still falling, the Christmas tree with him.

“Stupefy!”

Sirius glanced just enough to see James Potter of all people, sending a curse at him. He would kill Regulus for this, if he managed to survive long enough to see him again. And if Regulus didn’t kill him first demonstrating the killing curse for the Dark Lord when Sirius inevitably failed.

Then, the curse hit him. He blacked out, not even feeling the hardwood floor as his body went limp.

Chapter Text

There was a murder in the Daily Prophet. It wasn’t in the headlines, or even the front pages. Instead, it was hidden near the comics.

Suspected Muggle Attack Leaves 2 Dead, the short article read. Two muggles were discovered dead on December 26th, suspected of being killed with the killing curse. The Auror department assures wizarding Britain of its continued safety and do not believe the perpetrator is a threat to wizards and witches.

“Are you seeing this?” James pointed out the article to his parents.

“Some muggles were killed?” Mum said, “Oh, poor dears. That’s horrible.”

“Probably pureblood fanatics,” Dad said.

“I wonder if Black’s family was involved,” James said. He didn’t doubt it — if it wasn’t them, it was probably one of their related, old money families. Maybe the Malfoys, or the Mulcibers.

Mum and Dad shared a look.

“James, just because the Blacks practice darker magics than we do, and believe in blood supremacy, doesn’t mean they’re responsible for this.”

James rolled his eyes. “They’re in league with You-Know-Who. These are death eater attacks. And when Sirius Black appeared in the floo, you had a wand out, same as I did!”

Mum grabbed the newspaper away from him and hastily threw it away. “James, please. Can we just have breakfast without talking about this stuff?”

“Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

“Stop it, James!” Dad ordered. He looked surprisingly emotional about the whole thing, his fists clenched tightly around the wooden kitchen chair. There was as slight tremble to his voice. It was strange, to see his Dad look like that. “Please.”

“But—”

“James,” Mum interrupted, “Please stop talking about things you don’t know anything about. Your father and I lived through Grindelwald’s reign. Your grandparents were killed by one of his followers. My sister died in one of his attacks.”

James bit his lip.

“Just because some wizard with ridiculous notions about blood purity went too far muggle-hunting doesn’t mean there’s a new Grindelwald, okay? The Aurors say we’re safe, James. I won’t let you grow up in the same fear, paranoia and war that your father and I did.”

“Okay,” James said. “Sorry.”

The shadow of Grindelwald loomed over his family for decades. James had been born a few years after his downfall, but he still heard stories and whispers of the horrors that had happened when he was at large. The Potters never seemed to do well in wars.

If there was one story James hated, it was the tortoise and the hare. It was a stupid fairytale, all about how being ‘slow and steady wins the race’. As a chaser, James knew that speed was important above all else. He was impatient by nature and a quick learner. He got bored in classes, mastering the practical elements and being too bored by the textbooks to bother reading them. Who cared about the theoretical reasons that transfiguration worked? All that mattered was that he could do it.

The only person who’d ever kept up with him was Sirius Black. Remus was too cautious and careful, Peter wasn’t skilled enough, but Sirius Black and him were always neck and neck in terms of spell mastery. If he was honest, James could probably credit their rivalry for a lot of his successes — nothing made him want to master a spell more than if Black had done it first.

But at the moment, slow and steady was the mantra he was repeating to himself over and over. Remus made it clear to him: if he wanted to trick Black into thinking they were friends, he had to be slow and steady.

“Think of it like you’re trapping an animal,” Remus had said on their walk. “You need to lure him out with something he likes — pureblood nonsense, anti-muggle stuff, you know, and then once he’s gotten distracted by all that, you trigger the trap and get the answers you want from him. But you’ll need to be careful — you can’t startle him, or move too quickly, or else he’ll run away and won’t trust your lures anymore.”

But between him and Remus, James was the better one at making friends. So he figured he knew the best way to do it: spend time with him until he was forced to be friends with James.

People always liked him. The few exceptions to that was Lily Evans (who’d liked him enough until he’d insulted Snivellus to her face) and every single Slytherin at Hogwarts. But that was James’ choice; he hated the stupid blood purist beliefs that the entire house was enamoured by. They were all bigoted, bullying pricks, so James was quick happy to dismiss any ideas of friendship with that lot of them. If they had the chance to be friends with him, James was sure they’d be falling over themselves — he was a Sacred 28 wizard, which meant practically nothing to him but everything to them.

So getting Black to like him wasn’t going to be that hard, James decided. All he needed to do was create a reason for them to spend time together, one that was innocuous enough that it wouldn’t make him suspicious.

“Have you finished the transfiguration essay?” James asked the next day, opening his door without knocking first.

Black was seated on his bed, with his back to the wall. His lips thinned when he saw James, but he only shook his head, “I’ll do it on the train.”


He was planning on doing it on the train, rather than at his house? “Not planning on returning home then, are you?”

Black’s glass face cracked. A flash of emotion appeared on his face, just as quickly as it vanished. “No,” he said, shortly. “Their, erm, illness seems to be enduring.”

That was bollocks, but James wasn’t going to point that out to him. “I have the textbook, if that’s why you’re waiting. You haven’t done the charms or herbology assignments either, have you?”

Black scowled, “So what? Why do you care?”

“My parents are making me do mine,” James lied, “I don’t see why I’m stuck doing them while you don’t have to.”

“It’s not like I’m having the time of my life stuck at your house, Potter,” Black replied.

“Great,” James said. “We’ll do it together then.”
 Black stiffened, eyeing James cautiously. “You want us to do our essays together?”

“Remus and I were planning on doing them together, but now that he’s gone…” James trailed off, “If you want to stay in this room and do nothing, that’s your choice.”

“There’s three essays,” Black pointed out, “We’ll just divide the textbooks and do them separately.”

James winced, smiling sheepishly, “Well, actually, that won’t really work.”

“…Why not?”
 “See, I lose my textbooks. A lot. So one of the seventh years charmed them, so that all the textbooks are in the same book now. Which is great, because its easier to carry around and I don’t lose it anymore, but they almost can’t be separated.”

Black rolled his eyes, “Of all the stupid charms…Fine. But I’m only doing this because I don’t want to get detention for not finishing my assignments over the holiday.”

“That’s the spirit, Black,” James said sarcastically. “You know, this isn’t exactly my ideal Christmas either.”
 “Really? I couldn’t tell from the glares, the levicorpus threats and almost murder,” Black replied dryly.

James chuckled, only to freeze when he realised that he’d laughed at one of Black’s jokes. He quickly turned away from Black and grabbed his books from his room. “We can study in here,” he said.

“You only have one chair,” Black replied.

“I’ll sit on the floor.”

“You only have one textbook,” Black said.

“That I guess you’re stuck on the floor with me.”

Black’s lips curled, but to James’ surprise he said on the floor, looking distinctly uncomfortable. It was a weird sight, seeing the traditional wizard who wore only the most expensive wizarding robes, sitting cross legged like a little kid.

James laughed again.

“What?” Black groused.

“The big bad Black, heir to the most ancient and noble house, sitting on my bedroom floor,” James said. “Just let me take a moment to memorise this to show my kids in the pensive.”

Black whisked out his wand and, before James could do anything, cast, “Locomotor wibbly.”

James felt his legs shake underneath him, sending him crashing onto the hardwood floor, where his legs continued to quake. “You bastard!” James cursed him. “A jelly leg jinx? Are we first years again?”

Black just grinned.

James managed to grab his own wand from his back pocket and cast, “Finite.” His legs stopped jerking around immediately. He sat up, fully prepared to hex Black to hell and back.

“Just let me take a moment to memorise that, to show my kids in the pensive,” Black said smugly.

James rolled his eyes, but put his wand down. The lure was working. James was a people person after all, and Black seemed to be warming up to him. Most people might not consider being hit with a jelly-leg jinx as progress, but James wasn’t most people. He’d always been an optimist, and that wasn’t going to change now.

He grabbed his textbook from his trunk (why bother unpack when he would just be taking it back to Hogwarts in a week?) and set it on the ground between them. He grabbed some parchment, ink and quills too, giving one to Black, before he sat down next to him.

“What are you doing for the transfigurations essay?” Black asked. “If we’re sharing a textbook, we should do the same subject.”

“It’s an essay on permanent transfigurations,” James replied. “I’m focusing on animagi.”

Black frowned, “That’s a stupid idea. McGonagall is an animagus. If you get anything wrong, she’ll know.”


James smirked. “I won’t get anything wrong.” He had been researching how to become an animagi with Peter and Remus for two years now. They were still probably a year away from being able to successfully brew the potion, but he’d read enough books and horror stories of failed animagi transformations that he knew way more than the average fifth year. If Black didn’t, well, that wasn’t James’ problem.

Black’s response was to tersely grab his parchment and flip through the pages before they reached the chapter on animagi. “Neither will I.”

James began writing the essay, occasionally slapping Black’s hand away from turning the page before he was ready, much to Black’s annoyance. Still, his multi-year long research was paying off, as he was easily able to fill out his parchment at a speed that he could tell was irritating Black.

He glanced over at Black’s parchment, smirking when he noticed a mistake. “That’s wrong.”
 Black elbowed James in response.

“Ouch!” James muttered, before he fired an elbow back at Black.

Black managed to scout away right before he hit him, “Shove off, Potter. I didn’t make a mistake.”


“Yes you did,” James replied.

“Unless the textbook is wrong, I’m right.”

“Your funeral,” James said. “Don’t blame me when you get a T.”

“I won’t get a T. You’ll get a T!”

“Hmmm, I don’t think so. I think McGonagall, a real animagus, will know more than some random wizard who wrote a textbook.”

“And how would you know that then?” Black demanded.

James shrugged, “I read it somewhere.” Not a chance was he going to tell Black about his extra-curricular habit of studying animagus.

“You read it somewhere,” Black repeated, “You can try harder than that Potter.”

“I did!”

“Sure.”

“You idiot,” James said, “It’s in your discussion of animagus versus polyjuice, why one is permanent and the other isn’t. The textbook says it’s because of the potion ingredients, but everything else I’ve read says it’s because polyjuice uses someone else’s DNA, which wears off, but the animagus potion draws the animal form your own soul — the same as petrificus totallus, which is they it doesn’t wear off.”

Black blinked a few times at his explanation, “How do you know so much about it?”

James tried his best to seem bored, “I wrote an essay on it a while ago.”

“No you didn’t,” Black said. “We’ve had transfiguration together since first year. McGonagall has never assigned anything related to transfiguration before.”

“That’s because it was in potions,” James lied again, thankful that he was potions with the Ravenclaws.

“Yeah, right,” Black said, “As if Sluggy would bother assigning his classes separate assignments. Why are you lying, Potter? Hiding something?”

He was getting close, way too close for comfort. James shook his head, “Why are you so suspicious? Embarrassed that I’m still smarter than you in transfiguration?”

Black snorted, “You? Smarter than me?”

“I was right and you’re still wrong,” James replied, happy that referencing their rivalry was enough to distract Black. “I’m bored with this anyways. Why don’t we go flying?”

“So that you can push me off my broom again?”

“You’ve got your wand with you now. If you aren’t fast enough for a cushioning charm, that’s your own fault.”

“I do, don’t I,” Black mumbled.

He held his wand between his fingers, then looked at James.

There was something heavy in his eyes, a certain look that made James take a step back from him.

“Yeah,” Black said. “Let’s go.”

James took his eyes off of Black’s wand and shot him a tight smile. “Alright.”

“We’re going flying!” James shouted to his parents, as he and Black took the brooms outside and leapt into the air.

The chilly air made him shiver, but after being stuck in his house essay writing, James was desperate to get his energy out.

Black followed him closely. “How far do your parent’s wards stretch?”

“Far,” James replied, before he tugged his broom up, doing a loop-de-loop in the air. The wind blew his hair back and he got right-side up again.

“Show me,” Black said.

“I’ll race you!” James decided, piling the speed onto his broomstick, not even waiting for Black’s response. He looked back a few times, but Black was safely behind him, not that surprising since he was the one with the newer broomstick, but it still stroked his ego nicely.

He finally pulled to a stop when he caught sight of the willow tree that marked the edge of the property.

Black appeared, “You cheated,” he accused James.

“You’re just a sore loser,” James replied.

“You do have a big property,” Black admitted. “I can’t even see your house from here.”

James shrugged, “We’re in the country.”

“I’m in London,” Black said. “My brother and I would have killed to be able to fly around whenever.”

“Yeah? Couldn’t your parents cast dissolution spells on you?”

Black shook his head, “Too many muggles around for them to work.”

“Bloody muggles,” James said, trying his best to sound careless. “Must have been strange, to grow up in muggle London.”

“I’ve hardly seen it,” Black replied. “Mother and Father keep my brother and I out of it.”

“Me neither,” James said. “I’ve been to Remus’ house a few times and his Mum is a muggle, but they live so far away from their muggle neighbours that I’ve never even seen their house.”

Black nodded absentmindedly. He was fiddling with his wand again barely paying attention to his broom as they circled one another.

James felt like he was bursting at the seams. He finally had Black by himself, it was the perfect time to get answers, but he didn’t want to say too much and spook him. How could a blood traitor bring up the Dark Lord without Black getting suspicious?

“Did you see the paper this morning? There was another muggle killing.” Smooth James, real smooth.

His comment did wake Black up though. He straightened up on his broom, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. In Scotland, I think.”

“And they think a wizard did it?”

“The Aurors do,” James said. “Not that it’s really a question these days. None of the adults are admitting it, but we both know there’s more attacks coming.”

Black, to his surprise, nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

James had done it, mentioned You-Know-Who — or at least implied him and his forces, and Black hadn’t freaked out on him. He was so, so tempted to just pull his wand on Black and demand answers, but Remus was right; slow and steady was the way to go. Lure Black into his trap, and then get the answers he needed.

“It drives me crazy. My parents are still in denial about the future. They keep parroting the ministry ‘rise in unrelated muggle attacks’. And then they act like I’m the paranoid one for trying to prepare for the future.”

Black slouched on his broomstick, lying flat against it and letting one of his arms drop limply. He looked tired, even more so that usual which was saying something considering the state he’d been in when he’d first flooed into their house on Christmas Eve. “I wish the future wasn’t coming.”

“Huh?”

Black set his gaze on James. His grey eyes, usually glinting with an uneasy madness, just looked dead. “Do you wonder if we could have been friends?”

James let out an uncomfortable laugh, “Erm, sorry?”

Black was staring at his wand, “Do you remember? We sat together in First Year. On the Hogwarts Express.”

Of course, James remembered. “That was a long time ago. Before I knew how much of a cretin really were.” He winced at his phrasing — be nice to Black, he reminded himself. Don’t call him a cretin, even if that was what he was.

“Let’s land,” Black said, suddenly. “I want to explore this part.”

“There’s nothing here,” James said, but Black was already diving towards the ground. He was going so fast that for a second, James wondered if he was just going to nosedive into the snow, but at the last minute Black straightened his broom, then rolling off sideways, his broom landing next to him.

“Great landing,” James said, getting off his broomstick. “Aced it.”

Black didn’t even roll his eyes, glower or smirk at the insult.

“So, now that we’re both just standing in the snow, are you happy? Have we explored enough? Can we get back on our brooms?”

Black took a seat on a dead long.

James leaned against a tree, impatiently tapping his foot. “How long are you keeping us out here, Black?”

Black only gazed up at him. “When I met you on that train, I really thought I’d met my best friend.”
 Why was Black bringing them down memory lane? James had the exact same memory of the same train ride as Black, but he didn’t like to reminisce about it. “Yeah, well, things don’t always work out.” His phrase came out more bitter than he’d intended it to. But the memory of that train ride still brought out the worst in him, even years later.

“I wonder if we would have hated each other if we hadn’t shared that compartment,” Black mused. “If we hadn’t met until after we’d been sorted, maybe we’d have just been random people to each other, instead of, you know, hating each other to the core.”

“Why are you talking about all this, Black?” James demanded, feeling more and more uncomfortable with the conversation.

Black griped his hair so tightly James thought he might pull it out for a brief minute.

This wasn’t right. Black wasn’t supposed to look so defeated — he was supposed to be rude, arrogant and an arsehole, not like he was in the middle of a breakdown in the woods. He’d never seen Black break down before; the only hint of emotion he’d gotten out of him was the hatred in his eyes whenever he and James had crossed paths.

“Hey, Black?”

No response.

“Sirius? Let’s go back,” James suggested.

“Expelliarmus,” Black cast.

James watched helplessly as his wand sailed away from him, landing in the snow near Black.

“What’s going on?” James tried to back away, but the thick trunk of the tree stopped him.

“Accio brooms,” Black cast again, this time James’ broomstick lunging out of the snow and towards Black.

“Is this some kind of revenge for knocking you off your broom?” James asked, “Haha, very funny. Can we do this inside my nice, warm house instead of freezing to death out here?”

Black only aimed his wand at James. It was shaking violently in his hands and Black looked like a caged animal, his eyes desperate.“For what it’s worth, James, eleven-year-old me to eleven-year-old you, I’m sorry.”

James’ mouth was dry.

For all his planning to go slow and steady, to befriend Black in order to lure him into a trap, he’d forgotten that Sirius Black was the only person at Hogwarts who truly rivalled him. Whatever reason that Black had stumbled into his house on Christmas Eve, the one James had been trying his best to discover, Black was still trying to accomplish.

Black aimed his wand at James.

There’s always a silver lining, James thought. At least he was going to learn why Sirius Black came here in the first place, even if it was the worst way possible.

Chapter Text

Black’s mad grey eyes seemed to dance, as he stared at James, wand raised.

“Crucio!”

James isn’t a coward, but he can’t help but close his eyes. He’s never actually seen the impact of the cruciatus curse, but he’s heard stories. How it feels like there’s a hundred razor sharp knives digging into your skin, how it makes you feel like your organs are burning inside you, how it turns your blood into acid. He’s heard that the cruciatus curse makes people beg for death, but that they bite their tongue off before they can even get the words out.

So when he feels nothing, James opens his eyes.

“Fuck!” Black yells, “Crucio! Crucio!” He lunges his wand at James each time he speaks the incantation, but nothing happens.

James swallows, barely aware that a miracle has happened: Black’s wand isn’t working. But Black has James’ own wand in his hand and it won’t be long before he figures out the obvious solution.

“Crucio! Work you bloody thing! Crucio!” Black’s lower lip is trembling and his eyes are watery, as he desperately wipes the tears out of his eyes. “Crucio, crucio, crucio…” His tries get weaker, his words slurring together, his wand movements less and less precise.

It’s pathetic, really.

Black is crying, looking nothing like the arrogant, suave and in control person James has always known him as. His face is pale, but there’s a red flush beneath his cheeks. His grey eyes, that always seem to be on the edge of madness, remind James more of a cornered animal, terrified and trapped, than anything else.

His legs give out on him next, as he collapsed onto the cold, snowy ground. His head hangs low, his long wavy hair hiding his face from the rest of the world. His breaks come in short spurts, too fast to be useful. James can even see his pant legs growing darker as the cold snow melts into them.

“Finished yet, mate?” James asks with trepidation. He doesn’t really know why he called Black his mate — they aren’t (and he did just try to torture James), but his first instinct in an uncomfortable situation has always been to help people weaker than himself.

It’s why he, Remus and Peter all become friends.

People at school always wondered why someone like James Potter would befriend Remus, a kid who was sick for half the year and scurried away from the attention of others, as well as Peter, a chubby dolt who had spent his first month crying during breakfast because he was homesick.

Most kids like James, the rare types who took to school, sports and people with the same ease as breathing, might have made his dorm mates into polite acquaintances, before hunting for more like-minded people to spend his years with.

But James had taken a look at his roommates, at the trembling, scarred Remus who wouldn’t even look him in the eyes, at at the nervous, red eyed Peter trying to hide the wet spot on his sleeve from him, and had smiled, opened up a twelve pack of chocolate frogs and they’d spent their first night together climbing on their trunks and under their beds to catch them all.

They’d stuck close to each other ever since then.

James’ first instinct had always been to help people weaker than himself.

Sirius Black had never been someone James would even consider capable of weakness. Hell, James had always secretly been terrified that Black really was stronger than him, but staring at him now, James could feel the same instinct that had led him to befriend Remus and Peter.

Quick as a flash, James nabbed the wands.

Black didn’t even bother to try and grab them back, letting them slip out of his fingers.

To see someone go from firing an unforgivable at you, to crying in the snow on their knees, was an uncomfortable experience.

James stood in the silence, interrupted only by Black’s sobs.

What was he supposed to do? He bit his lip, before he casted a quick warming charm around them.

Black’s breath froze. “Well?” He finally spat the words out, “Do it then.”

James felt like he was three steps behind. “Do what?”

Black let out a mad laugh. It was hysterical, so loud and deranged that James wondered if he really had gone mad.

“Black? Sirius?” James leaned closer, “Sirius?”

Black’s hand reached out and clamped onto James’ wrist.

It took everything in James’ power to keep still and not wrench himself away from Black. He could feel his heart beating as fast as a rabbit’s.

Black raised his head ever so slightly and his hair shifted, revealing more of his face. His eyes were red, his lips trembling. He looked terrified.

“You’ve got my wand, Potter. Do whatever you want. Just do it fast.”

That time, James did pull his hand away from Black, careening backwards and falling onto his back, “I’m not going to crucio you, Black!”

“You should.”

“I can’t!”

An ironic smile lifted the corners of Black’s mouth, “You fucking hate me, Potter. You could do it.”

“Yeah, I probably could!” James’ patience ran out, “But I won’t because I’m not a mad bastard who tortures blood traitors and muggles because I hate them!”

“I wish I hated you,” Black mumbled.

James frowned at that, one little phrase he’d been told in DADA coming back to him: to successfully cast an unforgivable, you need to want to cast it, to want to hurt, kill or control the person its’ cast against. Anything less than pure intent, won’t power the spell, and that’s why their uses are unforgivable.

The problem with Black’s spell hadn’t been his wand. It must have been his intent.

Sirius Black didn’t hate James Potter.

Wasn’t that a strange idea to wrap his head around?

“…I’m glad you don’t?” James managed to reply, feeling out of his depths.

Black let out a wet laugh at that.

James grinned a little at that, lighting up at the fact that if Black was laughing — and not that borderline terrifying maniacal laughter from before — that he’d done something right.

“So, uh, why’d you try to crucio me?” He asked, in the most casual way he could.

Black chuckled, a faraway look in his eyes, “Never took you for an idiot, Potter.”

He felt a surge of satisfaction, “I was right then? You were sent here to hurt us, because we’re blood traitors?”

“Something like that,” Black admitted. He shifted, moving onto his ankles, “Let’s go then.”

James froze, “Are you joking?”

“Nah, I‘m Sirius.”

James glared at him.

Black smiled, ever so slightly.

“Are you planning on hurting my parents” James demanded.

Black shook his head with so much rigour that James was afraid it’d fall off, “No!”

“So I’m just special then?”

Black shrugged, “Guess so.”

And wasn’t that a lovely thought? That Mr. Dark Wizard junior over here had targeted James, and not the entirety of the Potters.

“Do you promise to not hurt them?”

Black smiled, slightly condescendingly at that, “What are we, first years?”

“Promise me,” James repeated, serious.

Black’s smile vanished, “Fine. Cross my heart, hope to die, I won’t hurt your parents.”

“I don’t take promises lightly,” James warned him, “You break it, I break you.”

Black nodded, “Don’t you want me to promise not to hurt you too then?”

James frowned, “…Erm, doesn’t feel necessary, does it? I mean, you’re not very good at hurting me.”

Black blinked, taken aback, “There are forgivable spells that I could do. Levitate you fifty feet into the air and drop you. A fire spell. I could go on.”

James looked at Black — really looked at him. A few days ago, James had been sure that Black would try to kill them all, and he’d been a third right. Apparently, Black was only trying to hurt him, not his parents.

It really was concerning that that the thought made James feel more than a little gratified. Lily hadn’t been too far off when she’d accused him of being a ‘toe rag wholly dependent on other people making him feel special’. It was the nastier part of his whole ‘helping people’ instinct, that James liked the feeling of other people recognising that he alone had helped them. It really was like a drug, that happy look in their eyes when they looked his way for approval. It was something James really tried not to think about most of the time.

But here was Black, his rival, ever since the sorting ceremony, practically refusing to accept his help.

So, James simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “Nah.”

Black looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “And you call me mad.”

James smirked.

“You’re fucking insane James Potter,” Black said.

James shrugged, “Warming charms wearing off. Lets head back to my house, we can talk on the way.”

Sirius’ grimaced, “Let’s just get it over with.”

“What’s that meant to mean, Black?”

Sirius scowled, “Don’t play thick, Potter. Does’t suit you.”

“…Maybe I’m not playing thick.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “I cast an unforgivable at you. Six times. You’ve got my wand, it’s all the proof you need that Sirius Black is a big, bad dark wizard. So run along, tell your parents and have me thrown in Azkaban already.”

James blinked. “What?”

“You won. I lost. Never had the patience to prolong the inevitable, so let's go.”

“You think I’m going to get you sent to Azkaban?”

“…I fired the cruciatus curse at you. Six bloody times. You’re a maniac if you don’t send me there.”

He did have a point.

But James hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor because he was a logical thinker, had he?

“Like I said, you didn’t actually manage to cast it.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you.”

James chuckled. “Look, mate…”

“Don’t suggest we sweep it under the rug, or some strange Hufflepuff idea there. Put me in Azkaban, Potter.”

James scowled at the mention of Hufflepuff. One of his closest held secrets? The Sorting Hat almost put him there. James had had to beg for Gryffindor, all the while the damned hat had droned on and on about James’ ‘natural proclivity for close friendships and high degree of emotional intelligence’ until an anti-Slytherin rant had shut the bloody thing up.

“Shut it, Black. Look, I won’t lie, the cruciatus thing? Not great. But you know, the crying and begging for Azkaban in front of me? Not quite convincing me that you need to be locked into Azkaban for the safety of wizard kind.”

Black looked even more distraught, if possible, “I’ll murder you in your sleep then!”

“…Sorry mate, you’re just not a good actor.”

Black growled in response.

James let out a laugh, “I know you’re meaning to be threatening, but you look like a wet dog stuck out in the rain at the moment.”

Black scowled again, finally pulling this long hair out of his face. “Potter. James. I am begging you, for the good of everyone, put me in Azkaban. Be the little Gryffindor hero, enjoy your photo in the front page of the Prophet — maybe even Evans will give you a kiss for defeating a burgeoning dark lord. I don’t care, just send me well away.”

James was flabbergasted. If someone had told him yesterday that Sirius Black would be begging to go to Azkaban, he’d have assumed someone had slipped some kind of potion into his morning tea.

“Send you well away from what?” James asked, eyes narrowing.

That made Black go stiff. “It’s none of your bloody business.”

“You just tried to crucio me!”

“Then take a guess? I didn’t just fall through your stupid fireplace with a hankering for torturing you! The whole bloody world doesn’t just revolve around James Potter!”

Those, James thought, were big words from the wizard that had just broken down sobbing over the fact that he didn’t hate James enough to torture him.

“Casting an unforgivable is a life sentence, Black. You’ll never be able to leave Azkaban, it’s the most secure building in Great Britain…” he trailed off.

Black went all stiff again, watching him warily.

James smirked, “The most secure place in Great Britain,” he repeated. “No one can get out, but no one can get in either.”

Black looked murderous.

James smiled, victorious. “So, who out there wants Sirius Black to crucio me so badly that you’re willing to hide away in Azkaban forever to avoid them if you fail?”

“Stop talking, Potter.”

But James was on a roll, “There’s no one at Hogwarts who could hurt you. Aside from me, of course, so no housemates of yours.”

“Arrogant prick.”

“I’m not wrong,” James said, and Black didn’t correct him. “And who would even care about you? I mean, you haven’t even sat your O.W.L.s yet, to society, you’re hardly anyone.”

“Shut it.”

“And you’re not the only prospective heir to the Black family — you’ve got that little brother of yours, don’t you? So someone isn’t targeting Blacks, it’s you their targeting. But why would anyone, aside from your family, I suppose, even care enough about you?”

Black paled.

And that’s when James realised that he’d hit the nail on the coffin.

He gasped, “Your…your family?”

Black gritted his teeth, “Shut up!”

“But your parents love you,” James said. “How could they?”

Black sneered, “Spoilt little James Potter.”

James flushed. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that there were bad parents out there. Moony’s Dad wasn’t anyone to brag about, but the worst thing the man had done was muck up his self-esteem, not threaten to kill him or anything like that. It was insane to James, the idea that he’d been attending classes with Black all these years, duelling and pranking him, without even the slightest hint that his home life wasn’t like James.

“I’m sorry,” He said.

Black was taken aback, “Go fuck yourself.”

“I am, really.”

“If you feel that bad for me, then send me to Azkaban.”

“No,” James replied, immediately.

“Then you’re going to have me tortured and killed by the Dark Lord instead? How Gryffindor of you.”

“No!” James said, louder this time. “No! We’ll figure something out.”

Black raised an eyebrow, “Don’t you understand? There’s no getting around this. No sneaky plan, no last minute saviour. Either I cast the cruciatus curse by Easter, or I get killed. Or, I live out the rest of my days in Azkaban.”

James bit his lip, his mind whirling at a hundred kilometres an hour as he thought about any possible way to avoid Black’s dark fate. “You can run away.”

“They’ll find me.”

“No, we’ll use a fidellius charm—”

“Where? What random house do you have that no one will notice go missing? Not to mention, neither of us know anyone powerful enough to cast it. And I don’t trust anyone to keep the secret.”

“Dumbledore could.”

Black let out a snarl at his name, “He won’t.”

“But if we explain—”

“If you’ve pegged me for a future dark lord, Dumbledore did it a long time ago. Besides, he doesn’t help anyone unless he gets something in return, and having an inside pair of ears and eyes into the Blacks? That’s worth more than giving me a hiding place.”

But James was past the point of caring, “I won’t let you throw your life away!”

Black shrugged, “It’s inevitable.”

And then, an absolutely bat shit insane idea stuck him. It was the kind of idea that Remus would trash immediately and that Peter would shake his head at. The kind of idea that not even James would be willing to go through with, unless it was the only thing that could work.

“Then we’ll practice.”

Black raised an eyebrow, “Practice? Do you not think that I’ve been practicing for years already?”

“I said ‘we’ll’.”

“James, if I don’t hate you enough to successfully cast it now, I don’t think you volunteering to get yourself tortured will help.”

“You’re not getting it.”

“Then explain.”

“We’ll both learn it. And then, if by Easter, you still can’t cast it, I will.”

Black was silent for a moment, before he burst out laughing, “You’ve lost the plot, Potter.”

“It’ll work!”

“Aside from the fact that we don’t look alike? I reckon my own family will be able to tell that there’s a Potter wearing my robes.”

“Polyjuice,” James said. “I’m good art potions.”

“Are you now?”

“Really good,” James said. “I’m even halfway though the anima— uh, never mind. But I could pull off a polyjuice in time for Easter.”

“And when the Dark Lord legitimates you and sees your memories, instead of mine?”

“Oh.” James frowned, trying to find a way around that little problem.

“Exactly,” Black said. “Learning occulemency is damn hard, I’d know.”

If Black had been trying to discourage James, he’d said the exact wrong words. “You know?”

“…Yes?”

“Then you’ll teach me. We’ve got three months, we could pull it off.”

“This is insane, Potter.”

“I’m really good at pulling off the insane,” James replied. “It’s brilliant!”

“There’s no way it’ll work.”

“Three months,” James said instead. “We’ll practice the cruciatus, you’ll teach me occlumency and I’ll make the polyjuice.”

Black still looked like he was in shock.

James only grinned wider.

“Let’s say we manage to make it work,” Black said. “And it’s a big ‘if’. You’ll have to go in front of the Dark Lord, his followers and my family, pretending to be me.”

“Yep.”

“And then you’ll have to cast the cruciatus charm on someone. Probably a muggle.”

His mouth went dry. James hadn’t thought quite that far, too wrapped up in the genius of his plan in the first place. He bit his lip again.

Could he do it? Cast an unforgivable on an innocent? Look someone in the eye and wish them to hurt?

“And if you fail, they’ll kill you. And then they’ll come after me.”

“But if we succeed, we’ll both survive and we’ll earn a place with the Dark Lord.”

Black frowned, looking at James in a new light.

James shivered, feeling like Black was analysing every bit of him.

Then, he nodded. “Maybe I’ve been underestimating you.”

James had the feeling that Black wasn’t giving him a compliment.

“It’s a deal, Potter,” Black said, sticking his hand out to shake James’.

“Considering we’re plotting to practice unforgivables together and brew illegal polyjuice, I think we’re past formalities.”

He shook Black’s hand, “Call me James.”

“Sirius.”

And with that, they bound their lives together, in the face of an uncertain future. 

Chapter Text

Even though James had changed the course of his life, it didn’t seem like anyone else really noticed. 

Mum and Dad kept on smiling through their Christmas holidays, seemingly relieved that James and Sirius’ constant bickering had finally ended. 

James and Sirius just waved them goodbye each morning, before they flew out of the house on their broomsticks, to the very edge of the property lines. Any further, and they risked activating the trace on themselves. 

The idea of ministry wizards catching them practicing unforgivables? Terrifying. 

So they made sure to stay a good few meters away from them at all times, and not before casting a few harmless jinxes then waiting a minute or two, before getting down to practicing the unforgivables. 

Sirius, funnily enough, had taken up the position of professor. “It’s more of a flick.”

“I am flicking!” James replied for the billionth time, aiming his wand at a tree. They hadn’t started practicing on anything living yet — a line neither of them were excited to cross anytime soon.

“No, you’re only jabbing. Flick, James, flick!”

“Ugh!” James yelled, dropping onto his back in the snow in frustration. Nearly half a week had passed, but they hadn’t succeeded at all yet. 

Sirius scowled, “You’re not trying hard enough.”

“Well maybe it’s because I’m practicing against a tree!” James replied, “I don’t hate trees, Sirius. And trees can’t even feel pain, so how the hell am I supposed to cast the pain spell, huh?”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

The last week had passed like that. They would have fun at first, chatting and joking, before eventually getting frustrated and yelling at one another. It probably wasn’t the most conducive way to learn, but Sirius wasn’t a good teacher and James had never been a good student. 

Magic had come easily to both of them, which meant that when it came down to buckling down and learning advanced, tricky spells, that they were both pants at explaining and understanding why casting it wasn’t working. 

“Maybe we should give up,” Sirius finally said in a quiet voice. 

James head shot up, “No! Not a chance, Black!”

Sirius wasn’t meeting his eyes. “You’re just as hopeless at this as I am. I’m not even surprised — in what world would a Potter be able to cast a cruciatus curse when a Black can’t?”

It was known that most wizarding families tended to favour certain light or dark spells. Whether it was nature-or-nurture, no one knew, but in wizarding society, the Potters were known as a light family, while the Blacks were dark. And the unforgivable were certainly dark spells.

“That whole light and dark thing is bollocks,” James replied. “You’re meant to be from one of the darkest families, but you’re shite at dark magic.”

“And you’re from one of the lightest, but you’re also shite at dark magic.”

James chuckled.

Sirius smiled a little. 

“One more time, how did your Mother tell you to cast it?” James asked.

Sirius smiled tiredly, “Maybe some people can’t be saved.”

“Stop your bloody moping. How do I cast it?”

“Jab down and flick up, say the incantation all the while wishing to inflict pain on the victim,” Sirius said, as though he was telling James how to feet a kneazle rather than instructions to cast a spell that would get him thrown into Azkaban if he were discovered.

James tried again, doing exactly what Sirius had said, but there wasn’t any beam of light emitting from his wand. He scowled. He’d never had this much trouble with any spell before. 

“…Maybe we need to try it on a living thing,” James finally said.

Sirius stiffened, fixing James with a surprised expression. “You want to?”

“Well I don’t want to, but we need to, don’t we?” James asked. “You said your brother practiced on animals and he can do it.”

Sirius still looked uncomfortable, “I’ve seen it. My Mother performed it on everything. On — on me as well.”

James stared at Sirius with new eyes.

He’d seen a completely different side of his former nemesis, but the idea of his Mum casting the cruciatus curse on him made him nauseous. James had never seen it performed, but he’d heard stories of people who never recovered. 

“It’s horrible,” Sirius said, curling in on himself a little. “It’s like your entire body is on fire, every strand of hair on your head, and every inch of skin. It feels like it’ll never end, and makes you wish you were dead, just to that you wouldn’t have to feel it anymore.”

The words hung in the cold, winter air for a minute, both boys staying silent.

James knew what Sirius was trying to say: do you really want to do that to another living thing? 

But as James looked over Sirius, at the defeated posture the looked so alien on the cocky Slytherin, he steeled his nerve. “Like I said, I don’t want to, but we need to. I won’t let them hurt you again, I promise.”

Sirius let out a quiet, sad laugh, “You can’t keep saying stuff like that James.”

“I don’t break my promises.”

“I know. But I’m starting to believe you.”

James wasn’t sure what to make of that. It didn’t sound like Sirius was happy. 

They spent the next two hours trying to find something alive, which was pretty difficult to do in the middle of winter. 

The edge of the property was covered in a layer of snow that had driven all the animals into hibernation. 

But eventually, they stumbled upon a rabbit hole (literally, in Sirius’ case who unfortunately got his foot stuck for a second, and fell on the ground).

A few minutes later, they had one cold little rabbit stunned and awkwardly set down on the snow a few feet from James.

The little bunny was unconscious, thankfully, because James was having second thoughts. “Like your entire body is on fire,” he repeated, staring at the little animal.

Sirius smirked, “Not as easy as it seemed is it?”

No. It wasn’t. But James did his best to tap into the competitive spirit that had fuelled his and Sirius’ outstandings in transfiguration. “Watch and learn, Black.”

Sirius looked at him doubtfully. 

James recited Sirius’ instructions: jab up, flick down, say the incantation and wish excruciating pain on a cute, innocent little bunny. 

He sighed, vowing to grab a healthy supply of carrots for the poor thing after, before doing the motions, “Crucio!”

The bunny stayed still. There was no light emitting from his wand. 

James sighed. 

“Little bunny got the best of you, did it?” Sirius said. 

“Lets’ see you do any better.”

Sirius looked bemused, but did it, with a lacklustre incantation. As expected, the little bunny didn’t even flinch. 

“This is hopeless,” James sighed. “What did you Mum do for motivation?”

Sirius stared at James like he was an idiot, “Nothing pleasant.”

“Oh. I mean…did it work?” 

“Clearly not. Well, maybe for my brother, but not for me.”

James’ eyes lit up, “It worked for your brother?”

“James, hold on. Are you asking me to hex you to motivate you?”

James squirmed. Was he really going to give Sirius Black carte blanche to hex him without consequence? The same bloke who’d tried to cast the cruciatus on James only a few days ago? Who routinely fired off hexes at him in the hallway, who’d been the target of his most cruel pranks? 

His own words haunted him. 

“I don’t want to. I need to.”

Sirius’ teasing smile vanished quickly. “Right.” 

“Nothing permanent,” James said, as Sirius aimed his wand. “And nothing that’ll get us in trouble with Mum and Dad.”

Sirius shook his head violently at the idea.

The next half hour was full of James trying (and failing) to cast the cruciatus, and Sirius’ attempts at ‘motivation’ going from reluctant stingers, to ridiculous charms that had done everything from temporarily shorten one of James’ legs, and another that turn his hair bright green. 

“Stupid bloody bunny,” James cursed. 

“It’s getting dark,” Sirius pointed out, “And as fun as its been, getting revenge on you for the past four and a half years of rivalry, I’m starting to run out of charms we can get rid of ourselves.”

James glared at the rabbit, still peacefully stunned. He was pretty sure the bunny was having the best outcome of all of us, getting a stack of carrots and a nap from the whole process. 

“Stupid rabbit. Crucio!” He cast at the bunny. 

Sirius raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Until an extremely faint dark red spell cast from James’ wand. 

It hit the bunny, who gave the slightest twitch.

The boys both stared at one another, and at James’ wand.

“Yes!” James shrieked. 

Sirius’ jaw was on the floor, “It worked? It worked?”

“The bunny twitched!” 

“Mate, you’re bragging about torturing a bunny.”

“Not like you could manage it.”

Sirius turned James’ hair orange in response, but James was too happy to care. 

“Crucio!” He said, expecting a stronger spell.

But nothing happened.

James frowned.

Sirius froze, mid elation.

“Crucio! Crucio!”

None of the spells worked. 

Sirius and James deflated. 

“…Don’t suppose your Dark Lord will be happy with a 33% success rate?”

“Nope.”

“Crucio!” James tried (and failed) again.

“He’ll like a 25% success rate even less.”

“Shite.”

The success rate only decreased the more times James tried. 

Their return to Hogwarts hung over the last night at home like a dark cloud. 

For the first time, James was apprehensive about going back. Before, all he’d felt was excitement at the idea of seeing his friends again, of enacting the pranks he’d planned and of having another chance to woo Lily. 

But now, he was nervous. 

Going back to Hogwarts meant that Sirius’ Easter deadline would be ticking forward. It meant that they’d be carefully watched by professors, prefects and students; almost eliminating their ability to practice the unforgivables completely. But maybe worse, it meant that the little bubble that had slowly formed around him and Sirius would vanish completely.

To James’ shock, he and Sirius had become something like friends. 

It was strange, not to see the familiar black hair and cocky expression at the dinner table, and not wish suffering upon him. James could tell that Sirius sometimes thought the same thing about him; wondering how the hell he’d ended up joking around with James Potter of all people, but even weirder than that was that neither of them seemed to mind much.

James was a people person, he was used to making friends easily, to having an energy that drew people to him and knowing exactly what to say to make a room burst into laughter.

He was not used to Sirius’ alarmingly similar talent. 

“You boys are too charming for your own good,” Mum said, during their final dinner, after he and Sirius was improvised a fake broomstick related story to explain their extended absence for the day. 

“Too charming?” Sirius smirked, “I don’t think that’s even possible, Mrs. Potter.”

“Oh, don’t you start with that, Sirius. It’s Effie to you, love.”

James grinned, “Pass me the salt then, Effie?”

Mum fixed him with a stern look, “And it’s Mum to you. And you as well, Sirius.”

Sirius was momentarily stunned into silence. 

The Potters hadn’t brought up the topic of Sirius’ family in a few days. Sirius hadn’t said a word, but Mum had clearly put some of the pieces together. Not that it was too hard, after all the family hadn’t come calling after him on Christmas of all days. 

Sirius smiled nervously, glancing over at James with clear panic in his eyes.

James did his best to nod reassuringly. 

“…Okay, Mum,” Sirius finally said, looking like a cornered animal the entire time.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it?” Mum said, before she passed the salt to James, who accidentally spilled it on the table. 

Dad nodded from the other end of the table, “Good lad.”

Sirius looked like he was going to be sick.

James distracted him by throwing a potato at his head.

It worked like a charm. 

That night, Sirius snuck into James’ room, and the boys sat with their backs against the wall in the darkness.

It was time for the conversation that they’d been avoiding for days. 

“So,” James prompted, “What are we going to do?”

“Well, you’ve got one attempt at the world’s most pathetic crucio under your belt, so we’re all set I think,” Sirius replied. 

James gave him a small glare, “I’ll keep practicing.”

“Going to steal someone’s cat and trying it on that?”

“Nah, I’ll find an animal. There’s got to be rats in the castle. Or I’ll grab one of Grubby-Planks’ blast ended screwts.”

Sirius made a face, “Mate, of all the creatures to practice cruciatus on, you choose the one that can blow up in your face?”

James winced. “Fair point. I’ll figure something out though.”

Sirius didn’t look convinced. “And the poly juice?”

“Dad’s a potioneer, he’s got loads of rare ingredients in the basement.”

“And you’ve got equipment that can store live potion ingredients?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve already grabbed — I mean, I can grab them easily,” James said. He’d been slowly sneaking the necessary ingredients for the animagus potion for some time now, doing everything he could to minimise the chance that Dad figured out what potion his missing ingredients pointed to. If anything, grabbing the ingredients for a polijuice would throw Dad off even more, so it was a win in James’ book. 

Sirius didn’t look too convinced, but he nodded along anyways. “We can’t talk about our plans. There’s portraits everywhere.”

James agreed. The last thing they needed was a portrait blabbing that James Potter and Sirius Black, lifelong enemies, were discussing unforgivables.

“Well…there’s one place that’s secret.”

“Oh? You aren’t talking about the kitchens, are you? Those rotten little elves will blab to the first person they see.”

“Nah, it’s uh…you know the shrieking shack?”

Sirius looked at James like he was an idiot. “…The most haunted house in Great Britain that was ghosts screaming in it every bloody night? The one that’s warded shut to stop students from sneaking in, that shrieking shack?”

James shrugged. “Yup.”

Remus would murder him if he found out that James was telling Sirius anything about the shack. But in James’ defence, it was sort of a life-or-death situation. 

“…Right then.”

“And we can hangout after classes.”

Sirius looked at him like he was an idiot. “No we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Practically half my house mates are in league with a dark wizard who wants to kill blood traitors, including you.”

“Fair point,” James admitted. He sighed, “Maybe we can partner in class?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “How will that stop the problem?”

“What about in transfiguration! We’re the two best, it’s normal for us two to partner.”

“Until McGonagall rips us apart because she thinks we’ll turn each other into newts after five minutes.”

“…Maybe.”

“She would.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Sirius frowned, “This whole thing is a long shot. And we haven’t even started occlumency yet—”

James shot up, “That’s it! We need to be together to practice occlumency!”

“Don’t be stupid—”

James was grinning like a madman, “We have to figure out how to spend time together, or else Voldemort will crack my head like an egg.”

Sirius scowled, “We’ll just do that during unforgivable practice time.”

“Nope,” James replied, “We’ll do it during school time. It’s not like either of us need the full class period to figure out the charm. And occlumency is silent, so we can just practice without anyone knowing.”

Sirius didn’t look happy, “Until the Slytherins pass the word to their parents that I’m associating with a blood traitor.”

James frowned. He bit his lip nervously. This was a gamble, but if it worked…“What if I’m not a blood traitor then?”

“The hell are you saying, Potter?” Sirius said, suspicious.

“The Potters are pureblooded, we’re as pure as the bloody driven snow.”

“Yeah, but you’re all happy-happy with muggles and mud bloods,” Sirius retorted.

James inwardly had to stop himself from flinching at the term mud blood. For a moment, he’d almost forgotten the truth about Sirius, that no matter how terrible he was at the unforgivables, he still believed the insane pureblood rhetoric he’d been raised in. 

“My parents are,” James said, “I’m still making up my own mind.”

For a moment, James was sure that Sirius was going to call him out on his bullshit. 

But to his surprise, Sirius only nodded, “Parents believe all sorts of crazy things that they try to push on you.”

“Exactly,” James replied, “And they’re hypocrites, always going on about how mud bloods are just as good as us, despite the fact that all the Potters have married purebloods. Makes you wonder if they really believe what they’re saying.”

Sirius nodded, slowly. “Alright. I suppose you can ride in my compartment then on the way to Hogwarts.”

James was caught off guard. “What?” He squeaked.

Sirius blinked innocently, “You wanted to hang out with me, right?”

Well, yes. But he wanted to spend time with Peter and Remus like they always did on the way to Hogwarts. And he didn’t want them knowing he was willingly associating himself with Black and his Slytherin pureblood bigots, even less the entire school.

What the hell would Lily Evans say when she learnt that James had ridden in the same compartment as Sirius and his Slytherin cronies? 

No, James said. This was a war. He’d have to do worse things than ride in a compartment with a bunch of Slytherins. He couldn’t pull out as soon as things got mildly unpleasant.

“Deal,” James finally said. 

Sirius looked surprised, but nodded anyways. “It’s a deal, James.”

Chapter Text

As James faced the Hogwarts Express, he couldn’t help but feel like he was staring at his own grave.

The shiny train that he normally only gave about two seconds of thought, hadn’t left his mind since he’d agreed to sit with Sirius and his blood supremacist friends in the same carriage.

All he could think about was the way everyone was going to see him after the trip.

Officially associating with blood supremacists, willingly hanging out with them and an official friend to Sirius Black, the heir to the most prominent blood supremacist wizarding family in Britain.

Of course, that same family had threatened to kill Sirius two weeks ago, but no one but James knew.

“I’m so glad you didn’t die!” Peter greeted him, giving him a tight hug as soon as he’d found James.

“Huh?”

Peter’s voice dropped to a whisper, looking around like he was waiting for someone to spring at them from the shadows, “Sirius Black! He didn’t murder you and your family in your sleep!”

James let out a relieved laugh. He’d forgotten all about that panicked letter he’d; written to Peter and Remus when Sirius had first arrived. It felt like a lifetime ago, when he’d first stunned Sirius after he’d fallen through their floo. Life had been so much easier then.

“Thought I was going to murder you, Potter?” Sirius appeared at his shoulder, so suddenly that James jumped.

He looked nothing like the mess he’d been when he’d arrived at the Potter’s. His hair was shiny and styled into waves, his uniform looked to be in perfect condition, and he looked every inch the pureblood heir he was supposed to.

Peter, easily startled, stumbled backwards and tripped over his trunk, “Black!”

James grimaced, feeling a few sets of eyes on the three of them. Platform 9 and 3/4 was crowded and full of parents saying tearful goodbyes to their children.

No doubt people were already noticing the fact that James and Sirius were within five feet of each other and weren’t firing hexes.

James tried to give his best carefree laugh, but it certainly sounded forced, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pete.”

Peter frowned, “But—”

“Keep it quiet,” James hissed to him, just like he’d done countless times before in the middle of pranks when Peter was a touch too slow to keep up with the rest of them as they spun lies to distract whatever professor had caught them.

Peter nodded, still looking distrustfully at Sirius, who only smiled nastily at him.

“See you soon, James,” Sirius said, giving him a vicious wave, before turning his back on him and heading back to the train.

Peter waited a whole minute, before he turned to James, looking absolutely gobsmacked, “What in Merlin’s name was that?”

James grimaced. “It’s…complicated.”

“That’s Sirius Black. Blood supremacist whose in league with the dark wizard trying to kill blood traitors,” Peter emphasised.

James nodded.

“You’re a blood traitor, James! He’ll kill you! And Remus!”

“He doesn’t care about half-bloods,” James said, absentmindedly, watching as Sirius disappeared into the train, “I don’t think so, at least.”

“That’s not the point,” Peter said, “The point is that he wants to kill you. And you’re making chit-chat with him? Two weeks ago you told me you thought he was going to murder you, your Mum and your Dad.”

“And I was wrong, alright?” James said, a little louder than he intended. He wasn’t being fair to Peter, who’d obviosuly been panicking all break about James being stuck with Sirius, but he was already a little nervous about the upcoming trip.

Lily Evans shot him a small glare at his loud outburst, as she hugged her parents goodbye.

James tried to smile.

She scowled and turned her head away.

She was without a doubt, the prettiest, kindest and most incredible girl he’d ever met, but she didn’t even want to spare a second on him.

James scowled when Snivellus came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder, getting huge smile and a hug in greeting.

How in the world she was friends with a greasy blood supremacist, but turned her nose up at him, he didn’t understand.

Chatting and flirting with Lily had had multiple purposes as he’d gotten older. It had started out as a way to annoy her, back when Lily Evans had been the bane of his existence (a short, but dark year-and-a-half long era, stemming from her rebuking his friendship after he’d tripped Snivellus in the train), before morphing into a way to amuse himself, Remus and Peter (well, mainly Peter. Remus tended to cringe while he did it, but Lily’s over-the-top reactions to it had provided them with plenty of laughs), but with dread, that had slowly twisted into a genuine crush on the red head.

James wanted to kick his younger self for screwing it up for his older self, but on the other hand, she clearly didn’t have good taste if Snivellus was still her best friend.

Still, James wasn’t going to waste some of the last minutes of his good reputation while he still had it.

“Evans,” he called out, making his way over to her.

Lily looked at him with disdain, “Potter.”

“Go away, Potter,” Snape tried to order him.

James scoffed, “Did I ask for you to stick your overly large nose into our conversation, Snivellus?”

Lily pushed James away, “Ugh, go away, Potter.”

James held up his hands in mock surrender, “I come in peace, Evans. I’ll even apologise to your greasy little boyfriend, alright?”

“I don’t want your apology!”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

James cracked a grin at their expressions, “Not your boyfriend, huh? Still holding out for me then?”

“As if,” Lily replied, glowering at him.

“The lady doth protests too much, methinks,” James said.

Lily froze, looking at him like he’d grown a second head, “Was that Shakespeare?”

“Uh huh,” James replied with a cocky smile.

He’d embarked on a little reading project, curtesy of the Hogwarts Library surprisingly scarce muggle books section. In one of Lily’s fireside rants about ‘bloody Slytherin pureblood supremacists’, she’d said how none of them would even be considered educated by muggles considering they didn’t even know who Shakespeare was.

Lily was baffled by the notion that he’d quoted Shakespeare.

James’ grin stretched even wider. He didn’t often manage to surprise Lily in a way that didn’t end with him getting slapped.

“She told you to go away, Potter, not to quote some stupid muggle at her,” Snape said.

James would have paid Snivellus a hundred galleons for making that little remark, “Calling Shakespeare a stupid muggle?” He tsked, “Lily, is this really the kind of wizard you associate with? Someone who looks down on muggle culture?”

Lily’s glare was deadly.

“Maybe you’re not the witch I thought you were, if you’re excusing him for saying shite like that.” James said cooly.

Lily rolled her eyes, “Fuck off, Potter!” She said, her Northern accent in full force.

James winked at her, “I’ll be here when you’re ready to face your feelings Evans!”

He took a few steps back, watching as Snape tried to reignite their conversation, only for Lily to face him with crossed arms and an angry expression, a quiet but vicious argument beginning between the two.

James: one. Snape: nil.

Well, more like James: 629, Snape: 0. But Lily didn’t seem to be aware of the accumulating points, or how awful a person Snape was.

“Another loss for James Potter?” Remus came up to him, Peter following closely behind.

“I have a long-term strategy,” James claimed, “She’ll love me. Eventually.”

Remus and Peter glanced at one another judgementally.

“Lets get in the compartment,” Remus, always the peacekeeper, said.

James winced, “About that…”

Peter frowned, “What?”

“…I’msittingwithSiriusBlack.”

“What?”

James took a deep breath. “I sort of agreed to sit with Sirius Black.”

Peter gasped like he’d been shot.

Remus’ eyes went wide.

“James, you can’t,” Peter pleaded, “If Remus is with the prefects, I’ll be alone!”

“Sorry, Pete,” James said. “Why don’t you join Abby from Hufflepuff? She’s been eyeing you ever since third year.”

Peter flushed, “You think so?”

Eh, kinda. “Yeah!”

Peter straightened up, “Okay. But if Black tries anything…”

“I’ll be sure to let you have your chance to cast something vicious on him, I promise,” James said.

Appeased, Peter wandered onto the train.

As soon as he left, Remus grabbed James’ wrist, “It’s worked then? The plan?”

James nodded, keeping his voice low, “It’s working. Sirius think I’m a, you know, someone who believes in blood purity and all that.”

Remus nodded, looking fairly nervous, “You can still back out, you know that right?”

James swallowed nervously, “I know. But I won’t. There’s a lot at stake.”

Remus nodded, “I know. The Prophet keeps recording the muggle deaths as the cause of unfortunate accidents. It’s insane. If you can find any information out, maybe we’ll finally get the adults to take it seriously.”

“Exactly,” James replied. He didn’t mention the little ‘Sirius will be killed if he can’t perform a cruciatus’ thing. Or that James had volunteered to go in his place. Remus worried too much already, and James was pretty sure he’d think James was an idiot for making that whole plan.

Remus sighed, “I saw you talking to Lily and Snape.”

James nodded, “Yeah?”

“Snape’s a Slytherin. Lily tells him everything. If you want to commit to this…”

“I know. I have to convince Lily that I hate her existence and want her dead,” James finished miserably, “Believe me, Remus. I know.”

“Do you really though, James?”

James frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before Remus could reply, the warning whistle blasted, shrieking loud.

The two of them quickly made their way onto the train. Remus gestured to the front of the train, where the prefect carriage was.

James watched him go, glancing enviously at the front of the train where he knew Peter had ended up.

He forced himself to turn the other way, towards the end where the upper-year Slytherins always ended up.

Walking down the length of aisle made him feel like he was approaching his own doom, but he kept going.

When he reached the second-to-last compartment, he peaked through the window, spotting Sirius’ glossy black hair next to the window. There were four other Slytherins in with him. Feeling like he was walking into (ironically enough) a lion’s den, James opened the door.

Five pairs of eyes peered up at him.

Three flashed with hostility.

One looked curious.

Sirius’s mad grey eyes gleamed. He was lounging on the middle seat, his legs outstretched on the opposite seat, looking far more comfortable than any of the other Slytherins in the cramped seats.

James had seen Sirius at his worst over Christmas, and seeing him so relaxed in his element felt almost alien. How was this arrogant Slytherin the same boy who’d been sobbing in the snow, begging for James to send him to Azkaban?

James swallowed down his fear and embraced the confidence he’d used when he’d first entered the Great Hall as a first year.

“Next to me, Potter,” Sirius ordered, patting the seat next to him by the window, “Saved you a seat.”

The other four Slytherins looked a mix of outraged, disgusted and horrified, but none of them said a word.

It wasn’t often that James was glad Sirius was his only rival for popularity, but considering he seemed to have sway over the other Slytherins gave James a boost.

James coughed when he reached Sirius’ legs, blocking his access.

“Problem, Potter?”

“Small one, yeah,” James replied kneeing Sirius’ legs.

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

James’ lip curled, before he sent a quick jelly leg jinx at Sirius, whose legs immediately began to shake and fall off the opposite seat, slamming onto the ground.

The four Slytherins were gripping their wands, one of them, Eamon Wilkes, had it raised and was about to start an incantation.

And then Sirius let out a loud laugh.

James grinned.

Sirius raised a hand, which James grabbed and Sirius pulled him into the chair opposite to him.

The other four Slytherins exchanged glances with one another — clearly wondering if the Black madness had finally caught up to Sirius.

Regulus was watching him with interest, like James was a puzzle to be deciphered. He looked unnervingly similar to his brother sharing the same aristocratic features and glossy black hair, but his was cut short. His features were also just a little sharper than Sirius’, his eyes a little less mad.

According to Sirius, Regulus could already cast an unforgivable. Terrifying.

The other three Slytherins were a combination of their year mates, including Eamon Wilkes, and students from a year below, including Barty Crouch Jr. and Regulus. All in all, it was a strange combination, but considering Snape wasn’t in attendance, James wasn’t about complain.

“James here and I passed a delightful afternoon Knockturn Alley together,” Sirius lied, “He’s got a better head on his shoulders than most Potters.”

“Great minds think alike,” James said, quoting from a muggle book that he’d been assigned to read in muggle studies.

Sirius grinned, “That’s a good saying, never heard it before.”

“It’s a family thing,” James lied, secretly enjoying that Sirius unknowingly liked a muggle quote.

“Don’t be ridiculous, toss Potter out. He’s just waiting for a chance to hex us, or throw us to the bloody prefects,” Crouch groused, snarling at James.

Sirius’ smile flickered, “Are you implying that I’m too stupid to know exactly what’s going on in James’ head?”

Crouch fumbled for an answer, “Erm—”

Sirius’ expression screamed disdain, before he turned to Regulus, “Choose your friends a little more carefully next time, will you? Preferably ones without such a thick head.”

Crouch’s face was red, but whether it was with embarrassment of anger, James couldn’t tell.

Then, Snape of all people opened the door to the compartment. His eyes scanned the people inside, before settling on James with a snarl. “Potter.”

“Snivellus.”

And wasn’t that the wrong thing to say.

Immediately, the entire compartment turned on him.

James winced. Reminding them all that he had picked on Snape for years on end (no matter that he deserved it), as well as the entire House Slytherin was probably the worst thing he could have done to ingratiate himself with them.

Snape smirked, drawing his wand. Out of the corner of his eye, James could see the other Slytherins following suit. Even Sirius.

It would be five against one. Bad odds already, never mind the fact that he was sitting far away from the door, and that Regulus was known to be able to cast unforgivables.

The likelihood of James surviving without injury, much less successfully making inroads into the Slytherins, were getting lower by the second.

“I’d heard rumours,” Snape said, “That Potter was seen in the Slytherin section. But I didn’t expect them to be true.”

James kept him chin held high.

Snape was a skilled wizard. Duelling in the compartment wouldn’t guarantee a win for him, much less if he had four others helping him out.

Mocking Snape had gotten him into this whole mess, but maybe it was the best way he could get himself out of it.

James, after all, had always been good at getting the masses on his side, even if the masses in this case, were four Slytherins who he’d treated almost as bad as Snape had been.

So James put on a lazy smirk, and charmed the door shut, forcing it to hit Snape and knocking him just ever so slightly off balance.

“Sorry lads, I didn’t realise that this compartment was avaliable to every half-blood who wandered by.”

The reaction was immediate.

Confusion, by Wilkes, Crouch and Regulus.

Curiosity, by Sirius.

Fury, by Snape.

All in response to James deliberately throwing blood politics into the equation. It was a risky bargain, but everyone else in the compartment was pure-blooded. He could only hope that their allegiance to blood politics was worth more than to their house.

“A blood traitor like you, trying to act like you’re better than—”

James interrupted, “Not acting, Snivellus. Just stating a truth that everyone in here knows.”

The Slytherins in the compartment seemed to be holding their breath.

James was in his element.

Catch Snape off guard, piss Snape off, make people want to side with him, the better side. It was an old routine, one that he’d used countless times throughout the years, even though he was used to mocking blood supremacy, rather than using it to his advantage.

Taking in the anger and embarrassment in Snape’s expression, James was pretty sure the Slytherin was recognising the same routine.

“I saw you, talking to Lily Evans on the platform, blood traitor—”

Sirius let out a mad laugh, “Still consorting with that mudblood, Snape? I thought had left behind that little obsession of yours.”

James tightened his fist at the mention of mudbloods. It was all he could do to avoid hexing him outright.

At least Sirius seemed to be on his side, throwing Snape under the bus and judging by the mutterings of the Slytherins, reawakening a long lasting argument.

James joined in on Sirius’ laughter, the rest of the Slytherins following suit.

“Get out Snivellus, there’s not even a free seat left,” Sirius said.

They all snickered.

Sirius was still using the sixth seat as his footrest.

Snape, red in the face, promptly left, slamming the door shut behind him.

James shivered. Making fun of Snape was always fun, but wasn’t he supposed to feel guiltier about throwing blood supremacist vitriol in his face?

The compartment calmed down rather quickly after that.

Regulus leisurely put his book down, “Sirius. You have invited a known blood traitor into our compartment. One whose hexed every single member of us in here before.”

James bristled at the term blood traitor. Disgusting bigots, the lot of them. They deserved to be hexed and they knew it.

“Have I?” Sirius asked, with wide eyed faux innocence, “Why don’t you tell me if I have, James?”

James tried to look relaxed, to exude the same effortless control that Sirius and Regulus had apparently mastered. He felt like he was putting on an ill fitting costume.

Obviously, his little display hadn’t convinced them. He hadn’t expected it to, but it had laid the groundwork. Now he just needed to put the cherry on top.

He’d thought long and hard about what lie he could tell the Slytherins that would make them accept well known blood traitor James Potter as one of them the night before.

Classic teenage rebellion had finally been the path he’d decided to pursue. “I’ve had a…change of heart,” he finally said. “Matured past what stories my parents have told me all my life.”

Four pairs of distrustful eyes landed on him.

Remus’ old warning of not laying it on too thick repeated in his head. They couldn’t think he was trying to ingratiate himself with them on purpose. Having Sirius vouch for him was doing a world of good, but that wouldn’t count for anything is no one else believed him.

The best way would be for them to think he was trying to distance himself from his parents, and deciding that hanging out with blood supremacist Slytherins was the best way, as opposed to him seeking out the Slytherins for his own curiosity.

Then, to his surprise, it was Barty Crouch Jr. that smiled widely at his lie, “Fuck your parents, Potter. They’re the same as my bloody father, always acting all high and mighty, like their opinions are the only ones that matter.”

James was taken aback.

It was one thing for him to say his potioneering father and stay-at-home mother’s opinions were shite, a whole different thing for the son of the head of the DMLE to do the same. But James supposed there had to be a reason for the son of a known high up in the Ministry, one dedicated to justice at that, to be hanging around Slytherins.

Apparently, rebellion against parents wasn’t as uncommon as he thought it was.

He caught Eamon Wilkes nodding slowly, so James counted it as a victory.

“What do you Slytherins do for fun,” James asked, changing the subject, “Don’t tell me you just read in silence until the train pulls in.”

One of James’ ‘let’s all calm down and be friends’ strategies, (co-opted from Remus, of course), was the classic ‘lets all play a game’. It worked stunningly well.

And from that, a good game of gobstones began, between all of them (aside from Regulus, who seemed to prefer reading and looking disdainfully at them over the edge of his book while the rest of them played).

It was scarily easy to relax and have fun with the Slytherins. When they weren’t advocating for murdering muggleborns, muggles and blood traitors, they were a surprisingly fun lot.

Especially Sirius.

It felt like the two of them were telepathic sometimes. Sirius would meet his eyes only a moment after Crouch played a bad move, and the two of them would pounce.

He was too used to playing with Peter and Remus to have much fun anymore. Remus was always too cautious, generally losing as long as James’ strategy was aggressive enough, while Peter was always more interested in making conversation than actually playing the game.

So, to James’ great displeasure, he had a fun train ride and felt a tinge of disappointment when it ended.

“Be free, return to your bloody Gryffindors,” Sirius said, once the rest of the Slytherins in the carriage had left.

James lingered in the doorway, “I’ll see you around?”

Sirius nodded, “Yeah. Snape and Wilkes will spread the fact that you were in here with me, saying the kind of things you were saying, around the Slytherins like fiendfire.”

James hide his grimace the best he could.

You signed up for this, he reminded himself. It doesn’t matter if all the Gryffindors hate you, because you’ll know what Voldemort is planning, and you’ll save everyone. It’s just a sacrifice.

“Occlumency lesson one,” Sirius said, quickly and quietly, after double checking to make sure no one was in the aisle, “Clear your mind.”

“Huh?”

But Sirius didn’t give him anymore information, quickly leaving the carriage and James behind.

Confused, James trailed out, only to find Peter and Remus waiting on the platform.

Peter’s eyes had bugged out when he’d seen James and Sirius leave in quick succession.

Remus had tensed up.

James stuck on a smile, “Sorry for the delay. Ready of the feast?”

The three managed to find an empty carriage to take them to the castle, but obviously whoever had casted the warming charm hadn’t done a good job of it, making the three of them huddle in the left-hand corner where the spell was strongest.

“Did they — they let the bloody muggle studies professor cast the- the bloody warming spell,” Peter cursed through chattering teeth.

“She’s a strong witch,” Remus replied, “It was probably Binns. Never seen that wizard even raise a wand once.”

Peter scowled anyways, muttering about muggle studies.

Ever since he’d gotten a T in the course back in the third year, Peter had found every reason possible to curse the professor.

James and Remus always laughed whenever he did it, especially considering they’d both gotten Es without too much effort in the same class. 

Chapter Text

Dinner was a weird affair.

James was used to being stared at. In fact, he quite liked being stared at. But the stares that greeted him as he sat down at his usual section of the Gryffindor table weren’t the kind he was used to. 

There was a small chattering as he passed some of the younger years. A few of the oldest students gave him reproachful looks, and he even caught the odd Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tossing him glances. 

But it wasn’t until James sat down that he realised his little excursion on the train had spread.

Marlene McKinnon leaned back in her chair, looking pissed off. “Potter, what gives?”

James grinned, playing dumb, “You tell me, Mickey.”

Marlene scoffed at the nickname — she’d been protesting it for years, but James hadn’t given up on it. “Are you switching sides on us now?”

“What the blazes are you on about?” James replied.

“Why in Merlin’s name did you sit with the Slytherins?”

“Oh. That.”

“Yes. That.”

James tried to think on his feet. One of the best strategies he used when he got caught pranking was to blame someone else. “Because of Lily,” he said quickly, “She’s always jabbering on about being nice to the snakes, so I decided to give it a try.”

Lily gave him a heated glare, “Don’t rope me into your crazy schemes, Potter!”

James grinned again, “What can I say, I’m a changed man, Lily-flower.”

“Ugh. Ew,” Lily replied, skooting away from him. 

“Don’t be gross, James,” Mary McDonald piped up from Marlene’s right side. 

“Gross?” James protested, “I declare my love, create a beautiful nickname and I get called gross?”

“Yes,” Mary replied.

James rolled his eyes, but thankfully, the conversation changed to how James had embarrassed himself (yet again), which made people forget about his little trip with the Slytherins.

Remus gave him a side-eyed look. James didn’t think Remus would forget as easily as everyone else. 

James waited for food to finally appear with bated breath, only for Headmaster Dumbledore to decide it was high time to make a speech. While his beginning and end of the year speeches were expected, his returning-after-Christmas-break speech was not.

“Just let us eat already,” Peter whined, his stomach grumbling. 

“Hopefully it’ll be short,” Remus murmured, as the Great Hall quietened.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood up. “Welcome back everyone, I hope you all had a merry holiday. Now, unfortunately, I must break some bad news.”

The students all began to murmur amongst themselves.

“Our own student, Miss Susannah Kettle, a third year, has permanently left Hogwarts. I understand that it is quite rare for a student to leave our school, but rest assured that she is only doing so as her family is moving to America. I hope all her friends do not miss her too dearly, but I will remind you not to owl her, as the poor birds cannot fly overseas. That is all, please begin to feast!”

Peter immediately grabbed some bread rolls, spreading butter over them, “All of that because some third-year moved to the States?”

“It is a bit strange though,” Remus muttered, “I mean, why are they moving her half-way through the year? Hogwarts is a boarding school. Her family could keep her here if she wanted to.”

James frowned, “Maybe they didn’t want to pay for international portkeys?”

Remus’ expression made it clear that he didn’t believe him. 

After the meal, they returned to they went back to their Common Room. It was fairly full, and James had plans to walk over to his dorm room to grab his set of gobstones.

But he passed Lily Evans on the way over, who was talking to a younger student.

“So I buy a samp—”

“Stamp.”

“A stamp, at the post?”

“Yes, and then you’ll give the postman the envelope with Susannah’s address on it — that’s her full name, street address, state, country and postal code — and he’ll send it.”

“And it’ll go across the ocean?” The girl sounded sceptical.

“They’ll put it on a boat, and it’ll float all the way to the USA.”

“Are you sure?” The girl asked, “I mean, I know muggles can do things, but won’t the letter get wet?”

“They’ll make sure to keep it dry. I promise, millions of letters get sent across the ocean every year and they all reach their destinations.”

“Okay,” the younger student said, “Thanks Lily!”

“No problem,” Lily replied, giving her a little wave.

James frowned. Susannah was the name of the little third year that wasn’t returning to school. “Are you sure Susannah knows how to use the muggle post? It wouldn’t do to show that kid how to use it if Susannah’s parents don’t know how.”

Lily sighed, “Her Dad’s a muggle, and her Mum’s a muggleborn, Potter. I think they know how to use the muggle post.”

“Well there’s got to be a wizarding way to sent mail overseas, isn’t there? I think you send a letter through a portkey.”

Lily hesitated, sizing James up.

“What?” James asked.

“James…” Lily said slowly, “Her family don’t want to be involved in the wizarding world anymore.”

“…They don’t? That’s insane.”

Lily shook her head, “It’s not as easy for muggleborns as it is for purebloods.”

“I know that!”

“Do you?” Lily asked sharply.

James nodded eagerly.

Lily didn’t look convinced, “And then with all the new attacks, well, clearly Susannah’s family decided it was best to flee the country.”

“But that’s ridiculous!” James protested, “If they think they’re under threat, they should fight back!”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is! All the bloody adults, they’re acting like sticking their heads in the sand and ignoring what’s going on is going to help anything, but it won’t!”

Lily gazed at James, her jaw stiff. “Like you’re doing anything, are you?”

James mouth went dry, “As a matter of fact—”

He was interrupted by Remus slamming into him. James almost fell on his knees, barely saving himself by grasping the edge of a bookshelf. “What was that about, Moony?”

Remus raised an eyebrow.

James flushed. 

Lily looked at him disapprovingly.

He’d almost told her about everything, about his weird allegiance with Sirius Black, just to convince her that he was doing good things for the war. A little part of him wondered whether, if he did tell Lily, if she’d be open to it. 

More likely, she’d think he was lying and tell everything to Snivellus. 

“Right,” James said, “Never mind.”

Remus and him went upstairs quickly after that.

“Are you sure you can actually do this?” Remus asked.

“Yes,” James replied, impatiently. “It was a one-off. It’s Lily!”

“Whose best friends with Snape,” Remus said. “You already have a target on your back for being a blood traitor, and it’ll only get worse if they find out you’re trying to befriend them to spy on them.”

“Stop bloody nagging me, will you Lupin?” James replied, “I know all this already.”

“James, you’ve got a secret that’ll likely result in your death if it’s discovered. Do you really think that me of all people, don’t know what that’s like?”

“Way to pull the furry little problem card, Remus,” James groaned into his pillow.

“I’m not pulling any card, I’m trying to make you understand the gravity of what you’re doing.”

“Gravity snavity,” James mocked, “Don’t treat me like I’m a little kid. I know what I’m getting into.”

Remus snorted.

James rolled his eyes, and then pulled the curtain shut. Sometimes he just couldn’t deal with him. Remus was too serious and responsible sometimes, treating James like he was immature. 

He pulled out the Marauder’s map, which he’d carefully stowed underneath the mattress over Christmas break. 

He opened it, scanning the bottom floor. 

Sirius Black was written in his scratchy handwriting, all the way down in the Slytherin dungeon. 

Sirius wouldn’t have treated him like an idiot if the same thing had happened. Sirius would probably just have laughed at his face. 

In what strange world did James actually care about Sirius’ opinion of him? A whole lot had changed since Christmas break. 

As classes began to gear back up, James noticed a few differences. The Slytherin boys he’d sat next to not he train were not longer hexing him. There were a few verbal jabs on occasion, but no more out of nowhere stinging hexes being fired at his back by them. 

Even stranger? James hadn’t pulled any pranks on them yet. 

Peter had been miffed about it, while even Remus, who was often the least enthusiastic about their pranks, was hinting about pulling one. 

And James really wanted to, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to jeopardise their weird truce for a stupid prank. 

And oddly enough, Lily Evans was his most ardent supporter. “Maybe you’re finally growing up, Potter,” She’d said after a whole week and a half had passed without him pulling a prank on them.

“Grow back down,” Marlene had chimed in, “It’s too bloody boring these days.”

“Marlene!” Lily gave her friend a light slap on the shoulder, as the two descended into giggles.

But the week-and-a-half mark meant something different to James. It was the first date that he and Sirius had planned to meet. Both had agreed to wait for ten days before sneaking away to see each other, in order to let school readjust to its normal schedule and for both the professors and students to be bogged down by grading and assignments. 

So, at half ten, James grabbed is cloak and left the Common Room. He hovered near the Slytherin dungeon, waiting for Sirius to come out, hidden by his invisibility cloak. 

Finally, Sirius appeared, wrapped up warmly.

“Finally,” James said.

Sirius turned around, confused.

James grinned smugly, before reaching out and giving Sirius a push.

Sirius flailed, staring right at the spot where James was, confused. He raised his wand, “Whose there? I’ll kill you!”

James laughed, “Relax, mate. It’s just me,” he said, lowering the cloak. 

Sirius’ eyes went bright, “That’s brilliant! That must be the best invisibility cloak I’ve ever seen! No wonder you’ve been able to get away with all those pranks.” He grabbed the cloak, running it over his fingers and smiling as they vanished beneath it. “I’d have killed for this. If I could sneak around my own house without anyone seeing me…” he trailed off.

James grimaced. Being reminder of Sirius’ home life was never pleasant for either of them. 

He put the cloak over the both of them, before leading Sirius outside towards the entrance of the shrieking shack. 

Looking at the scratches on the wall and the torn up furniture, Sirius let out a low whistle, “I guess these ghosts have claws.”

James shifted uncomfortably. If their animagus plan went right, he and Peter would be getting very close to Moony’s claws. But that was a problem for later, “Well, hopefully they won’t make an appearance.”

Sirius traced a claw mark on the wallpaper, a curious expression on his face. 

Eager to change his focus away from the werewolf claws, James quickly stupefied a rat and placed it in the centre of the room.

Both were well used to the rhythm of their practices after doing it for more than a week at the Potters’, but there was a few tense moments at the beginning where they both kept an eye on the door to the shrieking shack and the invisibility cloak, ready to hide the moment they heard a noise.

But a few hours passed, and no professors had come storming in to expel them from Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, those hours had gone by without either of them firing a successful cruciatus curse.

The stupid rat stood in front of them, nonchalantly eating a piece of cheese than Sirius had stuffed in his pockets before they’d gone. 

When they went back to Hogwarts, defeat was on their mind. The reality of what would happen to them if they failed was clear, and their dismal practice hadn’t made it any better.

“We’ll get better,” James said, outside of the Slytherin dungeon.

Sirius gave James a tight smile, “Night, James,” he said, before slipping into the Common room.

In the meanwhile, the polyjuice potion and the animagus potion were doing well. Well, maybe well-ish was a better term. James wasn’t exactly a potions prodigy like his Grandfather had been. He might have been up-selling his ability to Sirius, but at the time, James had been sure it would be easy enough to make. 

Polyjuice, as complicated as it was, was just a set of instructions. The animagus potion on the other hand, which had only been made a handful of times each decade, had much more ridiculous instructions like ‘stir until potions resembles a cloud’, which sounded all well and good, until James had floundered for a day about whether it meant a white or grey cloud. Would it have specified thunder-cloud, or had the author just seen the greyish colour and thought ‘cloud’. 

Remus, as academically oriented as he was, was pants at potions and short of writing a letter to his father, James was quickly running out of ideas. He’d almost run to Slughorn, but James didn’t want to risk the professor sussing out what potion James was struggling with and reporting him to the Ministry, or worse, McGonagall. 

The week wore on, without much success and the deadline got closer and closer. 

But luckily, potions class changed everything. 

It was one of the only classes with Gryffindors and Slytherins together. James used to have a love/hate relationship with that, because while it was a prime opportunity for him to get back at Slytherins, but it also meant that he’d have to witness the abomination that was Lily Evans and Snivellus chattering together for class. As if breathing in potion fumes all class wasn’t bad enough, James had to deal with that on top of it. 

James and Sirius weren’t sitting together — potions had mandatory partners based on last names (meaning that he and Peter had been stuck together since first year, which hadn’t done his potion grade any favours, but had turned him into an excellent potions tutor). Sirius was next to Wilhelmina Bletchley, which Sirius frequently complained about. Apparently, she had eyed Sirius as a good match for her future, thanks to his last name and fortune, and incessantly flirted with him during class. 

“There, two skinned frog legs — oh no!” Peter whisper-yelled as yellow smoke began to rise out of their cauldron. 

“Shite,” James agreed, doing his best to wave it away before Slughorn noticed their smoke.

Then, to his left, Snivellus himself let out a disdainful laugh at their smoke. Lily Evans, next to him, giggled.

James scowled. 

Snivellus and Lily, as the two best performing students in the class and Slughorns’ favourites, had managed to be exempted from the last-name based pairing in order to sit together. 

“What idiot puts in the front legs of the frog into a Lackadaisical Serum?” Snape murmured.

James scowled and faced them, “The instructions just say ‘legs’, Snivellus. Only an idiot wouldn’t realise that.”

Snape raised a brow, before gesturing to Lily. She dropped their two skinned hind legs and James watched, flabbergasted, as their potion turned a brilliant blue — no smoke to see at all. 

“He told you so, didn’t he, Potter?” Lily said sharply, “Severus is far more brilliant at potions than you’ll ever be.”

James began to chew on his lip, lost in thought, leaving Peter to decimate what was left of their potion. Everyone knew that Snape was some kind of potions prodigy, the type that innately knew and had experimented frequently enough to instinctively know what bizarre potion instructions meant. 

And the animagus potion was filled with confusing directives that he was too scared to guess least he destroyed the precious ingredients. 

Lily wouldn’t help — even with her miraculously agreeing to. One word to Snape about who had been asking for it, and the instructions given to James would probably end up giving him permanent organ damage. 

If he asked Sirius on the other hand, to help get Snivellus to decipher the instructions, then he had a chance. But that also meant revealing to Sirius that he was working on an animagus potion, which could lead to Sirius finding out that it was for Peter as well, which could end up with him discovering Remus’ furry little problem. 

Safe to say, it wasn’t looking good.

Either risk failing with the animagus potion — which could lead to years in the long-term ward in St Mungo’s if they didn’t get killed outright by it, or risk Remus’ secret. 

James finally decided to do what he always did when he had two bad options: he made a third.

“So…” James said, as he and Sirius recovered from another failed evening of cruciatus curses.

“Hmm?”

“How would you feel about becoming an animagus?”

Sirius stared at him, his grey eyes scanning James, as if trying to figure out if this was an elaborate prank, or if James was being serious, “Where are you going with this one, Jaime?”

James grinned, and began to tell Sirius all about the benefits of being an animagus (if he were being honest, there weren’t many outside of the able-to-keep-company-with-a-not-so-friendly-werewolf).

But to his surprise, Sirius didn’t need much convincing, “Excellent! Fantastic idea.”

“Really?”

“Obviously,” Sirius replied, “I mean, the usefulness depends on the form — there’s not much you can do as a slug, but there’s not exactly any negatives are there? If I get a shite form, I just won’t use it, but if I get a good one…” Sirius trailed off, madness flashing in his eyes. “Either way, I’ll probably end up dead by Easter, so it’s not like any of the nasty consequence of mucking it up matter much to me.”

Well, that was one way to look at it. “So, you‘re in then?”

“Yeah! Can you imagine becoming animagus right under everyone’s noses? It’ll be brilliant. Just the two of us, right?”

“…Right!” James replied, doing his best not to think about Peter. “There’s just one problem?”

“Yeah?”

“The potion, the instructions are a little…vague.”

Sirius’ ecstatic expression faded. “Oh.”

“But there’s one person who I think could decipher it and not report us to the Ministry, or Dumbledore.”

“Oh?”

James grimaced, “Snivellus.”

Sirius sighed. “Oh.” 

“Can you make him help us?”

“Snivellus and I aren’t best friends,” Sirius replied, “But he’s been circling us purebloods like a vulture. I can get him to help.”

“Excellent!” James said, giving him the parchment with the scribbled potions instructions on it, all the vague instructions underlined, “Here.”

Sirius took it, stashing it into his robes. “And this is for you.”

Sirius handed James an old journal.

“What’s this?”

“The Black’s occlumency guide,” Sirius replied, “Finish it before tomorrow, and we’ll start practicing.”

Chapter Text

It had all started that same morning. As with every Saturday, James wandered down bright and early, all the while Peter and Remus snored the morning away. Maybe it was the early Quidditch trainings he was used to, but he never seemed to wake up much earlier than the other two. Not that he minded – the early morning breakfast students included the lovely Lily, which always brightened up his day. 

He found her sat at the end of the table, a friend of hers from a lower year, Mary MacDonald, was sat across from her. Lily’s nose was stuck in a newspaper, meaning that James had the power of surprise on his side. 

“Hello, Lily-flower,” James greeted her, grabbing a random muffin off her plate, “Did you grab this for me? Raspberry is my favourite, how did you know?”

“Fuck off,” Lily’s tone held none of the playfulness banter, or annoyance it normally did. 

The coldness of it made James freeze in place, muffin still in his hands, “I can get you a new muffin…?” he offered. 

Across from Lily sat Mary, who was urgently shaking her head at him. Not today, she mouthed.

James frowned, his eyes slinking to the paper, where he saw the article she was staring at. 

MINISTRY REASSURES PUBLIC: MUGGLE DEATHS UNRELATED ACCIDENTS

His throat went dry. Unrelated accidents. Sure. As if all the recent muggle killings weren’t anything more than a few unfortunates who got in the way of a rogue severing charm. 

“It’s because of Grindelwald,” James tried to offer, helpfully, “My parents won’t admit anything either. They all can’t stand the idea of a dark wizard rising again.”

“You’re an idiot,” Lily snapped back. “Christ.”

“Hey!” James said, defensively, “I’m just telling you why the Ministry won’t tell the truth, not that I agree with them.”

At this, Mary scoffed, shaking her head.

Lily spoke up, her voice a drained, angry thing, “The Ministry isn’t lying because of Grindelwald, Potter. It’s because they’re bigots.”

“Yeah, probably,” James said, sitting next to them.

Lily let out a sarcastic laugh, “Thanks for agreeing, Potter. That’s exactly what we need.”

James put the muffin down, searching for the right thing to say. Normally, he’d launch something witty back at her, but looking at Lily right now, with red rimmed eyes and a tremble in her hands, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that was the right thing to do. 

“It’s awful, all of it. The murders, how the Ministry is ignoring them and the newspapers aren’t willing to even investigate,” He managed to say.

Lily bit her lip, “Every time one of these are reported as an accident, all I can think about are my friends at home. How if one of them were murdered – if my sister was murdered, or my parents – they’d tell everyone it was an accident. A badly aimed spell, or escaped magical creature, and meanwhile there’d be a murderer walking around the world, and no one would even know. Or care.” Her voice had started to shake more and more as she spoke.

Mary replied, “I swear there’s some wizards who don’t even think muggleborns are humans. I used to think once we left Hogwarts, it would get better. That maybe it was just stupid kids who hated muggleborns and muggles, but the older I get, the less likely it seems.”

James struggled with what to say. It wasn’t often that he ran out of words, but today seemed like one of those days. “We’re not all bad,” he managed. Remus had managed to corral him, mostly, out of his bad habit of almost telling Lily everything he was doing to infiltrate the dark circles, and today he was regretting it. 

Judging by the expression on LIly and Mary’s faces, it seemed like the wrong thing to say. 

“Come on, Mary,” Lily said, standing up, “Lets go somewhere nicer. I’m finished anyways. And you should come with me tonight, I think I need another muggleborn with me to get through it.”

James gave them a shoddy wave goodbye, before he picked some more at his muffin, feeling more depleted than normal.

“I’m going to go to the Slug Club,” James announced as soon as he strolled back into Gryffindor Tower.

Peter fell off his bed with a thump, staring at James from his uncomfortable position on the floor, where he’s managed to land with his feet hanging over his face, “Are you ill?”

“Gone batty?” Was Remus’ helpful add on, putting his reading glasses on and squinting at James from his perch by the window.

“Reckon he’s under imperius?” Peter said, “What if Sluggy got to him during class?”

James let out a laugh, “Don’t be daft. Lily’s going to Slug Club, so I need to go to Slug Club.” He’d prepared his excuse when the idea had first popped into his head. 

“But James, last time Sluggy invited you, you said ‘over my dead body’.”

James waved the remark away, “And?”

“He gave you detention for two months.”

“That was years ago.”

“I don’t think he’s forgotten,” Peter mumbled, “Isn’t that meeting tonight? How did you even get him to agree?”

James shrugged, and waved away Peter’s concern, “Eh…you know…”

Remus’ eyes narrowed, “Wait. It’s the February meeting.” The February meeting was the only one where Sluggy encouraged his invitees to bring their own guests. Preferably dates, also from moderately well established families. 

“Yep.”

Peter’s eyes widened, “You got Lily to bring you as her date?”

James scowled. “Next year.” 

But was Remus who put the pieces together with a gasp, “You didn’t.”

James grinned, “Oh yes I did.”

“Slughorn is going to have kittens.”

“What? What did you do, James?” Peter pipped up.

“Sirius Black. He’ll invite me.”

“As his…date?” Peter asked, eyeing him, “But he’s a blood supremacist, and what about Lily?”

James waved off his concern, “I’m his guest, not his date. And its all so that Lily can see me being mature and all. Besides, me, in formal dress robes? Lily won’t be able to resist.”

Peter nodded along. 

Remus just shook his head at James, “What exactly do you mean ‘he’ll invite me’. Has he even raised it with you? You can’t just invite yourself as his date to the Slug Club’s February party.”

“Of course I can,” James replied, heading towards his chest to dig out his formal robes. “Why would he say no?”

He could see Remus and Peter exchanging glances behind his back. 

“Look, mate,” Peter said, “I know you and Black are friends, or something, these days, but he’s still, you know, Sirius Black.”

“And I’m James Potter,” he replied, “The bloke isn’t as terrifying as he seems. He’s a bastard Slytherin of course, but as far as bastard Slytherins go, he isn’t so bad.”

Peter shrugged, “If you say so. I’ve got to get showered,” he said, grabbing a towel off the floor and heading to the shared bathroom. 

Remus crossed his arms over his chest, but didn’t say anything more.

James could see the disapproval in his face.

The minute Peter disappeared into the bathroom, Remus cast a silencio over the room. 

“It’s brilliant, isn’t it? My plan to go to the Slug Club? I was finishing breakfast, and I thought to myself, where else am I going to find a heap of blood important heirs to blood supremacist families, and voila, Slug Club tonight. A perfect opportunity.”

Remus made a face, “Lily, Snape and Slughorn are all going to be there. Not to mention the entire school is going to be gossiping tomorrow about you and Black going as mates. I mean, people have mostly forgotten the train thing, but this?”

“What’s an omelette without cracking some eggs?” James asked, trying for the joke.

Remus raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “This isn’t some schoolboy game, James!”

“I know! Don’t you think I know that! You should have seen the headlines on the Prophet at breakfast today. It’s getting worse, no one cares, and no one is doing anything. This is going to be a meeting with mostly pureblood heirs, what’s the point of making friends with Sirius Black and pretending about all of this, if not to take advantage?”

Remus sighed, “I know, I know. I’m just worried.”

“You always worry,” James muttered. “Tell you what, we’ll pull a good prank next week, yeah? You, me and Peter. At Snivellus. It’ll be just like normal. Proper schoolboy fun.”

Remus smiled, but it didn’t go all the way, “Brilliant.”

To James’ surprise, Sirius didn’t need any bribery, lies or pleading to invite him to Old Sluggy’s meeting. 

“You want to go?” Sirius said, as he’d cast an accio on the unlucky squirrel they were practicing their crucios on in the Shrieking Shack. Due to the snowy, unpleasant day, the grounds were empty as everyone was huddled in their common rooms, leaving an open path for Sirius and James to head down with his invisibility cloak.

“Yeah. Seems like a laugh,” James said, tossing out a, “Crucio!”

A faint, dark red light cast from his wand. The unconscious squirrel twitched slightly.

“Brilliant,” Sirius replied. “The parties are miserable though. You haven’t gone batty, have you?”

James laughed, “Remus Lupin asked me the same thing when I told him.”

Sirius’ face twitched.

James let out a bark of laughter.

“What?”

“You’re face – it’s hard to explain. Whenever I compare you to my friends, you always make the same expression. Its so ‘old pureblood’, reminds me of my Grandmother, is all. I think she was a Black actually.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Just torture the squirrel, will you?”

“I figured I’d let you take a chance,” James replied, leaning against one of the walls.

“You’re hilarious, James. A real riot,” Sirius said. “Now come on, we’re only two months from Easter and you’ve got a 4.7% success rate.”

“That’s not fair, you can’t count every single attempt! I couldn’t even get one of out ten tries until last week!”

“Do you think the Dark Lord cares about the difference between 4% and 10%?” Sirius asked.

James scowled, “Don’t see you getting past 0%.”

Sirius didn’t respond.

James looked over, had Sirius actually taken offence? Had he misread things?

And then Sirius tackled him onto the couch. 

James shrieked, “You bastard!” 

Sirius was grinning manically, letting out a downright terrifying laugh, before James managed to get the upper hand.

“No! No!” Sirius begged, “Don’t let my hair touch the couch! Please, James, who knows whats been on it!”

But James showed no mercy, as he put a hand on Sirius’ forehead and forced his black hair onto the disgusting couch, as Sirius cussed him out with a surprisingly creative vocabulary.

The Slug Club met in Slughorn’s private rooms, where he’d transfigured everything to seem much grander and old than James remembered. Floating candles everywhere, a big table with bottles of wine and cheesy Valentines’ Day decorations everywhere. 

“Valentines’ Day,” one of the older Slytherins, Mulciber, shook his head at hte decor. “I didn’t realize how muggle you were, Professor.” Mulciber poked at a floating paper heart, sending it colliding into the path of a candle, setting it aflame.

“Careful, Mr. Mulciber,” Sluggy said, quickly fixing the decoration, “I admit to having a soft spot for it. I quite like those – erm, those heart-shaped sweets, with those funny words on them.”

“They’re called candy hearts, Professor,” Mary MacDonald told the table. 

“Oh, yes, yes. You and Miss Evans are muggle raised. Of course you know the names of such things,” Sluggy said.

The company at the Slug Club was a horrible mix of mostly purebloods, with the only muggle borns in attendance being Lily and Mary. There were only three half-bloods, including Snape, there.

Sirius was sat next to him, and the pair of them had been charming everyone’s shoelaces to tie together all meal long, mostly to keep themselves safe from dying of boredom. 

The conversation had veered along meaningless topics for the entirety of supper, from the importance of potion to the academic world, to the shortage of pigmy puffs, and a hundred other less-than-interesting chats, alongside short spurts of blood politics that Slughorn did his best to quickly stymie. 

“It’ll get better,” Sirius promised him, “Once dinner is over, we all just chat and split into groups. People drink more and more wine…it gets decent, well, as decent as a Slug Club party can be.”

James was ready to throw the towel in already.

Lily was sat opposite to him, next to Snape and Mary, with the rest of the circular table featuring mostly Slytherin purebloods. James had managed to stay relatively quiet whenever blood politics came up, not really wanting to upset Mary and Lily, or his new Slytherin allies. 

“Well if its so good, the muggles can keep it,” Avery, his greasy-haired buddy, said.

“It;s a bloody holiday,” Mary said, “Not something you can keep in a closet and lock away.”

Avery scowled and was about to reply, but Slughorn was faster, “Now, now, Miss MacDonald. Mr. Avery doesn’t know as much about muggle holidays as you do, you can’t expect him to know everything.”

Mary rolled her eyes, but kept a pleasant smile on her face. Lily had a matching expression on her face, but her eyes were dark. 

James’ people pleasing took over. He flicked his wand over to an old music player, which sparked to life, playing some old wizarding music. “What is a party without some dancing? Miss Lily-Flower?”

“Not a chance, Potter,” Snape interrupted in a nasally voice.

“Nose out, Snivellus. Let the lady speak.”

Lily sighed, “Not a chance, Potter.”

James let out a long sigh, before turning over to Sirius, “Mr. Black, may I have this dance?”

A few laughs echoed around the room.

Sirius grinned and stood up, “Oh, Mr. Potter, I’d be delighted!”

The room exploded into chuckles, as James took Sirius for a waltz. He heard one of the others mutter a charm that lade them levitate into the air, allowing them to rise up, until they started hitting their heads on the ceiling.

“Mr. Black, I believe I’m getting a headache,” James said.

Sirius nodded, “Well, I believe we must turn our frowns upside down.” 

They managed to flip upside down, with their feet on the ceiling, and only narrowly catching their formal robes in time to stop them from falling over their heads. 

“God, that’s almost indecent!” Mary shouted in delight from below. 

The wizards and witches were all laughing madly at them, and James basked in the crowd. Sirius was wearing a matching grin. James lifted him and spun him around, which only pleased the crowd even more. 

James heard one laugh – the one he wanted to hear the most. Lily’s high, soft laughter that he only heard when she wasn’t around him. He looked down, to see her smiling up at him. 

And then, they were falling. 

James landed right in the mashed potatoes, groaning. It was a low-ceiling room, so they hadn’t fallen very far since they’d landed on the table, but he still hurt. Sirius had landed next to him, his face in the peas. 

“Bloody hell, who cancelled the charm?” Sirius asked, his hair full of peas. 

No one answered. 

James looked at Snape. He already knew who had. So James just winked at him, sure that Snape got the message – they’d get him back. Not now, but soon. 

“Well, I say dinner is over. While we’re waiting for the house elves to clean up and serve dessert, why don’t we head over to the sitting room and chat? No one forget your wine glasses!” Slughorn said, slowly making his way over to the sitting room.

James disentagled himself from the mashed potatoes, before he crawled off the tables.

To his surprise, Lily was still there. “You know, when you aren’t picking on people, you’re actually a little funny, Potter.”

James blinked in shock. Had Lily actually said something nice to him? 

She walked off, towards Mary and the sitting room.

James felt like he was on cloud nine. 

And then Sirius was peering down at him, casting a shadow over his face, “The mudblood, Potter? Still?” he whispered, barely audible.

It took everything in James not to punch him in the face. Instead, he tried his best for a casual laugh, “Even you can’t pretend she isn’t gorgeous. For a mudblood, that is.”

Sirius smirked, “For a mudblood, yeah, she’s alright. Nothing like that Hufflepuff girl – that 7th year, you know? Camilla?”

James let out a sigh of relief as they kept chatting about random girls they fancied. He didn’t want the blood supremacists getting to Lily, or suspecting that she was the love of his life. 

But even after the conversation passed onto more casual topics, he couldn’t help but notice the sharp edges of Sirius’ face, nor the shadows that seemed to be constantly cast on it from the flickering candle light. 

No matter how friendly he might be, or how well they got on, Sirius Black was, and always would be, a Black. 

Towards the end of the night, James found himself engrossed in conversation with the pureblood Slytherins. The wine had gotten to his head, and to James’ annoyance, the future gang of dark wizards in attendance didn’t seem to be willing to chat about anything more criminalising than ways to possibly cheat on their history of magic test. Regulus Black, Sirius’ younger (and creepier) brother, had installed himself next to James, but hadn’t said a word in an hour. 

James himself wasn’t willing to lead the conversation in that direction, not with Lily, Mary and Slughorn in close proximity. The only positive note of the evening was that Snape hadn’t left Lily’s side, and James could tell that his social standing hadn’t improved since the train ride. That also meant that if he wanted to talk to Lily, he’d have to get through Snape first, but James was still riding the high of receiving his first ever compliment from Lily, so he decided to let it rest. 

“Show her, won’t we?” Mulciber muttered to Avery, the pair of them on the edge of the circle.

“Thinks a muggle holiday–”

James was distracted by their chat by Slughorn setting off a firework, which blasted around the room and let out bright pink streamers as it did. Sirius managed to grab an strand and attach it to his brother, resulting in Regulus Black being tied head to toe in a pink streamer, resembling an outraged mummy more than the second son of the Noble and Ancient House of Black.

In a fit of sobriety, James looked around for Lily, seeing her talking to Mary, sans Snape for the first time in the evening. Snape was chatting to Mulciber and Avery, safely on the other side of the room.

James wandered over to the pair. “‘Ello ladies. Enjoying the night?”

Mary smiled indulgently, “Clearly not as much as you are.”

“Probably true,” James replied. He dropped his voice, “And fuck what they were all saying at dinner. Wankers, the lot of them.”

“You’ve had too much wine, Potter.”

“No such thing!”

“You have, if you think we didn’t notice that you didn’t say anything while those wankers spat out that vitriol,” Lily said.

“Uhh,” James said, dumbly, “Well…”

“Night, Potter. You ought to go to bed, I’m heading back to the Common Room if you want to join Lily and I?” Mary offered.

Lily nodded, “I’ll let Sev know we’re off.”

“Yeah, I’ll let Sirius know.”

Mary frowned, “What’s with you two anyways? It’s weird, James. Super weird, that you’re friends. More than a little fucked up too.”

James waved it away, “Too much wine, Mary.”

“I thought you said there was no such thing?” Mary asked.

James shrugged, and went over to Sirius and the rest of the Slytherins. He saw Lily chatting to Snape in a corner, and sighed. Soon. 

He kept saying goodbye – it must have been twenty goodbyes to each person at least, as well as a ten minute goodbye to Slughorn, before he managed to remember to find Mary. To his surprise, she wasn’t anywhere to be found. 

Lily was still in conversation with Snape, but James wasn’t feeling patient anymore.

“Lily-flower? The Potter Express to Gryffindor Tower is leaving soon.”

“Mm,” Lily said, “Bye Sev.”

“I’ll walk you back too,” Snivellus volunteered, but he looked over to the pile of Slytherins, who all seemed to be observing him.

“It’s all good, Snivellus. We both know you don’t want to be seen with her,” James said, “Come on, Lily.”

“Where’s Mary?” Lily asked.

“I think she got tired of waiting for us and left. There’s not too many of us still here anyways. Wilkes is gone, so is Mulcible and Avery. And I haven’t seen McLaren or LaForge for at least two hours,” James said, as they made their way out of the dungeon.

Lily nodded slowly, “Yeah. I just hope she didn’t pass out in the Common Room again. Last time, a bunch of first years jumped on her to wake her up.”

They reached the Common Room quickly enough, and after making sure that Mary wasn’t asleep on one of the couches, he and Lily went their separate ways to the dorm. 

James had fallen flat onto his bed, still in his dress robes, perfectly ready to fall asleep, only to feel something hit him on his face.

“Ow.”

An enchanted paper airplane had hit him. 

James glared at Remus and Peter, but the pair were sound asleep. 

Opening the paper, James saw a hurried message.

MARY ISN'T IN THE DORM

Chapter Text

James could see Lily’s anxious shadow as he came down the stairs. She was fidgeting, the pacing back and forth, still wearing her dress. When James got to the bottom of the steps, feeling under dressed in his pyjamas bottoms and robe, she ran at him with such force she nearly barrelled him down.

“Merlin, Lily,” James muttered, as he nearly tripped over the couch.

“I don’t know where she went!” Lily loudly whispered, her big green eyes were wide with panic. 

“Keep your voice down,” James reminded her, seeing as the last thing they needed was for a prefect to overhear them, or worse, discover that Mary was breaking curfew. “She’s probably asleep on a bench somewhere, drank a little too much wine, you know?”

Judging by the speed at which Lily’s eyes narrowed, James had said something wrong, “She’s a girl, who left a party and didn’t make it back to her room, Potter! Don’t tell me not to worry.”

“RIght, sorry, Lils. I just don’t want you to panic.”

Lily shook her head, “Lets just find her, if we’re lucky we can sneak her back in without anyone knowing any better.”

James nodded. He’d had a quick glance at the Marauder’s Map before going downstairs, so he knew just where Mary was: in the Great Hall. Knowing her, she’d probably wanted some food before heading to bed, and had lost track of time. The trick was going to be getting them down there, without it seeming like he already knew where she was. 

“Maybe we should divide. In case one of us gets caught by a Professor,” Lily murmured, “Then the other one could keep looking.”

“It’s past midnight,” James replied, “The Professors and prefects only do rounds until then. After that, its just the portraits that are meant to alert them about students moving around, but they’re all asleep, the lazy buggers.”

Lily frowned, “...And just how do you know all that?”

James smiled charmingly, “I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?”

Lily rolled her eyes, but gestured for him to follow her out of the portrait. “Now, since we’re starting in the Tower, and the last place we saw Mary was the dungeon, we’ll have to do a full sweep. We’ll start on the seventh floor, making our way down.”

James grimaced. At that rate, it’d take them an hour to get to the Great Hall, “We should start downstairs. Those portraits are heavier sleepers. More traffic, you know?” he lied. 

Lily frowned, but seemed to accept it, “You’re the expert.”

“No lumos either,” James said.

Lily looked less than excited about that, but said, “Nox,” and her wand extinguished. 

The hallway was completely black. He could hear Lily’s breathing, her light footsteps going slow and cautious behind him.

James lead her to the staircase, and they took the familiar journey downstairs to the Great Hall. He’d had to walk through the dark like this before, but most of the time he had his light up wand hidden behind the invisibility cloak. Still, he and Lily had taken this exact walk hundreds of times, every single day at least, for years now. They could do it in the dark.

He could feel Lily brush the back of his shirt a few times, and James finally just stuck his arm behind him and clasped it onto Lily’s.

“I’m not holding your bloody hand, Potter!” Lily hissed.

A few portraits mumbled in their sleep.

“Shhhh!”

Lily sighed in frustration, before whispering, “I’m still not holding your sweaty hand!”

“Methink the lady doth protest too much,” James murmured, swinging her hand around.

“You can’t use the same quote twice, Potter. Its unimpressive.”

“Unimpressive? Me? James Potter? Unimpressive? Have you met me?”

“I’m sorry to have to be the one to let you know that not even you can pull off having that big of a head.”

“Ouchie, Evans.”

“What happened to no talking?”

James frowned, but went quiet as they kept going down the stairs, mostly relying on muscle memory.  

Inside, he was buzzing. Walking alone, with Lily Evans? This was the longest they’d ever been alone together – thank you, Mary MacDonald, for being too drunk to get back to Gryffindor Tower. Hell, thanks to good ol’Sluggy, for the Slug Club. That wasn’t something James thought he’d ever think. 

By the time they made it to the Great Hall, James was yawning. He wasn’t altogether excited for the endeavour that it would take to get Mary back to the Common Room without waking any portraits up.

“Let’s have a look around here,” James said, trying to remember where Mary was in relation to the map. She had been on the right side, hadn’t she?

“Shouldn’t we start closer to the Dungeon?”

“I have a good feeling about this, Lily.”

“Fine,” she said. “Can we use lumos now? We’re not finding her in the dark.”

“Yeah, just try to keep a hand over the wand tip, to shape the light a little so it’s not going everywhere–”

“I know the concept of a torch, Potter,” Lily deadpanned, doing exactly what James had been describing. The Great Hall was dimly illuminated, so they could makeout the dozens of wardrobes and cupboards against the walls. It looked creepy in the dim light, but James was more than used to seeing it like that after so many sneak outs. 

“What’s a torch?”

“How in the world do you know Shakespeare, but not what a torch is?”

“What can I say? I’m an enigma.”

“Ugh. You wish. And I can’t see Mary, so let's keep going.”

“No, she’s here, I know it!” James replied, “Check the wardrobes, maybe she fell asleep in one.”

Lily sighed, “This instinct of yours better be right.”

They began opening the many wardrobes of the Great Hall, until James reached one that didn’t unlock. He frowned. Mary wouldn’t lock a wardrobe behind her, would she? James nearly moved on – Lily was impatiently tapping her foot near the doorway, already finished with her half of the room, but he whispered a quick, “Alohomora.”

The lock clicked.

James twisted the handle, opening it up. He gasped.

In a crumpled heap lay Mary. Her clothes were gone, leaving her pale body bare. Her hair had been hacked off, leaving blond clumps all around her. Her eyes were closed and for a chilling moment, James wondered if she was dead. 

“Lily!” James yelled.

She shrieked when she saw what James was staring at. 

“Mary! Mary!” Lily shook her, softly, then hard. 

Mary groaned. James felt a flood of relief, feeling so lightheaded he had to grab onto the side of the wardrobe. 

Lily let out a sob, crashing over her friend, “Mary, Mary what happened? Wake up!”

James took off his dressing robe, draping it over Mary’s body to give her some modesty. It left him in his pyjama pants, shivering in the chilly winter air. 

Lily tucked it around Mary, taking her friend’s head into her lap and cradling it, “What – James, I don’t understand. Who did this to her?” 

He was still processing everything, when they were interrupted by a strange noise. 

“RIBBIT!”

A toad?

James turned around, to see a massive, bright pink, toad – at least five feet tall, staring back at him. “What the–”

“RIBBIT,” it croaked.

Lily was staring at it too, frozen, “James? You’re – you’re seeing a giant pink toad too, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Um. Lets, um, get Mary to the Hospital Wing,” Lily said.

“Uh huh,” James said, still stunned by the toad’s inexplicable presence.

Mary groaned again, louder this time. Both their attention shifted back to her. 

“She’s waking up,” Lily said, relieved, “Mary? Mary!”

One of Mary’s eyes slited open. She looked dazed, blinking against the light from Lily’s wand. “Go ‘way.”

“I know its bright,” Lily murmured, “Can you open your eyes for me, Mare? Please?”

“Go away, I want ‘im,” Mary left arm twitched a little, falling flat.

“James? You want ‘him’?” Lily sounded outraged.

“Ugh, no,” Mary replied, a little too fast for James’ ego. 

“Ouch, Mary. No rest for the wicked, huh?” At least she was joking, that was always a good sign of recovery. 

Mary raised her head, seeming not to notice her dramatic haircut, “Him,” she said, pointing towards James.

James looked at Lily, “Huh?”

“Mary, you’re not making any sense,” Lily said, “Let’s stand you up and get to the Hospital Wing, alright? Some help, James?”

“Of course,” James replied, grabbing Mary’s other arm and shoulder, readjusting the dressing gown to keep her covered, as they both managed to lift her to her feet. 

“Can you stand?” Lily asked, “Maybe James could carry you? Or, there must be a spell–”

Mary stepped of her own accord, then again, and again.

“This works,” Lily said, letting out a small, relieved laugh. James grinned, still riding the high of seeing Mary back on her feet in such a short time. He’d thought she might be dead, her body lying so still, so prone, locked away in a wardrobe. It made him shudder.

“Hello, baby,” Mary suddenly said. 

“Just ignore it,” James decided, “She must have hit her head or…” he trailed off, but Lily understood exactly what he meant. Or someone else hit her. 

“Baby, baby, l love you…”

“Oop, roadblock,” Lily said, as they bumped into the giant pink toad, that was still sitting in the middle of the Great Hall.

“Baby it’s me,” Mary murmured, running a hand on the toad’s slimy skin.

James tugged on her arm, “Staircase, Mary. Toad later, yeah?”

“You can’t separate us!” Mary shrieked, wrenching her arm away from James with formidable strength.

“Mary?” Lily asked in a small voice.

They could only watch in horror as Mary leaned in and gave the toad a great big kiss.

James’ jaw dropped open.

Lily’s eyes had gone all big again.

“What the hell?” James asked, stunned. 

Mary was doing her best to cuddle the toad – what would be an objectively hilarious sight if not for her shorn head, dazed look and the fact that only minutes ago she’d been lying in an unconscious heap. 

Lily leaned in and James pulled her back, “I’m not letting you start kissing toads too, Evans!”

“Shut up!” Lily hissed, leaning in again but only to – was she smelling Mary’s breath?

“What?”

“Amortentia,” Lily said, horrified for good reason.

The word sent shivers down James’ spine. A love potion, one that could force anyone to fall in love. James looked at the toad, then at Mary.

“Someone spiked her!” Lily declared, “They must have transfigured a toad to look like that, and used the potion to make her fall in love with it.”

“Merlin,” James muttered. 

Lily turned on James, suspicious, “Your lot, you didn’t do this, did you?”

“Of course not! I’d never do something like this to Mary! Strip someone, shove them into a wardrobe and make them fall in love with a toad! That’s cruel!”

Lily scowled, “As if you and your gang wouldn’t find this hilarious if it was Sev.”

Unfortunately, she had a point. Not that James would admit it. “We didn’t do this. I’d never do this. And if I had…oh no.”

“What?”

James sighed, glancing back at the wardrobe. “If I had, I would have been cleverer. I would have charmed the toad to appear when the wardrobe was opened, which wouldn’t have been until breakfast time.”

Lily’s face paled, “When all the students would be walking in. Do you think they meant to do that?”

“Yeah,” James said. 

They looked at Mary, hair in blond tufts, wearing nothing but James’ dressing gown, cuddling with a giant pink toad. In only a few hours, hundreds of students would have seen everything take place. 

“Oh God,” Lily murmured, “It’s Valentines Day.”

“So?”

“Amortentia. The pink toad. Mary was talking about Valentines Day during supper, remember? Some of the Slytherins – Mulciber and his cronies, hate muggle holidays. That’s what this is.”

James felt sick to his stomach. “Lily, it’s a love holiday, you don’t they, you know, touched, Mary do you?”

Lily bit her lip. She looked horribly young, in that moment. She crossed her arms, huddling into herself. Lily put a hand on Mary’s back, “No. I mean…I hope not. I don’t know.” Her gaze was faraway, “I was sat next to her, they’re our classmates.”

The sick feeling was rapidly being replaced by another; anger. “We need to get her to the Hospital Wing.”

He and Lily managed to manhandle Mary away from the toad, which James shrunk and placed in his pocket, telling Mary he’d give it back to her once they reached Madame Pomfrey. He and Lily didn’t talk anymore after that, nothing they could say would have meant anything. 

Madame Pomfrey appeared in her dressing gown, and James could have cried. She saw Mary between them, and ushered her into a bed, Lily and James trying to explain everything as they gestured to the now small, still pink, toad. 

Finally, Madame Pomfrey sent them up to their Common Room, warning them not to speak about this until their Professor McGonagall could talk privately to them. 

They returned to the dorm in silence. The familiar red and gold decorations, with the homely fire, wasn’t the kind greeting it usually was. 

Lily curled up in an arm chair, her arms over her knees. She was staring into the fire, looking almost as dazed as Mary had been.

“Do you want me to stay?” James asked, hovering near the staircase to the boy’s dorms.

Lily shuddered, “I can’t look at her empty bed, I just can’t.”

“Dumbledore will have them expelled,” James said. “They’ll have their wands snapped, the cretins. They deserve more!”

Lily barked an empty laugh.

“Huh?”

“You can be so stupid sometimes, it’s impressive.”

James soured, “What’s that supposed to mean, Evans?”

“They’ll get a month's worth of detention.”

“You can’t assault a girl and get detention,” James replied.

Lily just let out a long sigh, “Go to bed, Potter.”

James did.

Sure, Pomfrey had told him and Lily not to tell anyone, but Remus and Peter weren’t just anyone. James had barely woken up when the entire ordeal began spilling out. The other two went wide eyed as he kept talking. 

“Merlin…” was all Peter could say.

“How’s Lily?” Remus asked.

James frowned, “Not great.”

They made their way down to breakfast, where the Hogwarts rumour mill was already running. Whispers were carrying all the way through the Great Hall, with many people openly staring at the Gryffindor table. 

“MacDonald–”

“Heard that was kissed a toad–”

“Tried to seduce a toad, more like,” Sirius Black laughed from his post at the Slytherin table. The others joined in his laughter. Eamon Wilkes. Regulus Black. Barty Crouch Jr. All the people he’d sat and chatted with on the train and more. 

James shot him a look of disgust.

Sirius only looked confused, before toasting him with a glass of orange juice as the Slytherins continued their chat.

“Lousy snakes, how can they think its a joke!” James muttered.

“Potter!” Lily snatched his arm, dragging him over to the end of the room.

“Lily-flower?”

“You told people!” Lily accused him, “One job, Potter, but you thought the bloody toad was too funny to let pass!”

“It wasn’t me,” James replied defensively, “Its the bloody Slytherins. They’re the ones who did it to her, weren’t they?”

Lily released him instantly, “God, sorry, James. I – I just heard the rumours and I didn’t even think.” James took in her appearance, red eyes, with dark circles under them. She looked pale and exhausted. She wandered off towards the other Gryffindor girls, as James stammered over to Remus and Peter.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” James said grouchily.

McGonagall pulled them out just before the first bell rang, where they told their story all over again.

“It was the Slytherins,” James spat out, “You’ve got to get them expelled, Professor!”

“Those are some big accusations, Mr. Potter. Do you have any basis for them?”

“They were talking at breakfast about it, like it was a joke! And yesterday when Mary was talking about Valentines’ Day, they were making fun of it.”

Professor McGonagall pinched her temples, “Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, that isn’t evidence.”

“What about the amortentia then? I saw Snape talking to Mulciber last night, he must have–”

“Severus didn’t have anything to do with it!” Lily interrupted him, suddenly furious, “This is actually serious, Potter, not an excuse to bully him!”

James turned on her, “You’re kidding! He’s a prodigy at potions, the bat, how in the world did Mulciber, who repeated fourth year, get a hold of it.”

McGonagall interrupted them with a cough, “Mr. Potter, Miss Evans, now is not the time to bicker. There is no evidence, not against Mr. Snape, nor Mr. Mulciber. And you cannot simply expel a student over baseless accusations.”

“But they did it,” James repeated, helplessly, “They hurt her, tried to shove her naked in front of the entire Great Hall to make out with a frog, because she’s a muggle born, Professor! You can’t just do nothing!”

Mcgonagall sighed, looking older than her years. “I’m sorry, Mr. Potter. Without evidence, there’s nothing that can be done, except to help young Miss MacDonald to return to class. Perhaps you can collect the necessary assignments from her Professors?”

McGonagall closed her office door behind her.

James kicked it, to no result. 

Lily crossed her arms, scowling at him. “What did I tell you Potter? They got away with it. And not even with a month of detention.”

“McGonagall said we need evidence, we can get that–”

Lily only smiled coldly, “You just don’t get it. Nothing will ever happen to them, because Mary is a muggle born and they aren’t.”

“That isn’t true. Her parents, when they hear about this, they’ll bring the bloody school down,” James replied.

“Sure, James,” Lily sounded tired.

“Don’t ‘sure, James’ me,” James spat, “Not when you’re defending one of them.”

“Excuse me?”

“We both know Snivellus was involved, but you refuse to admit it,” James replied.

“Shut up, Potter!” Lily screamed, “He wouldn’t do that! He’s a better man than you are, and you can’t stand that! You’re jealous of him!”

“Jealous? Of him!?” James really wanted to be sick now, “How stupid–”

But Lily wasn’t done yet, “Don’t act like you, Remus and Peter wouldn’t have done the same thing that was done to Mary, to Sev? Embarrass him in front of the whole school? Make him kiss a toad? Lock him away in a wardrobe? Spike his drink, or attack him when no one is watching to get it done?” Lily looked at James in disgust, “You’re one of them, James. One of the purebloods who’ll never, ever, face any real punishment for what you do, because you’re parents would bring the bloody school down if they did.”

And with that, Lily stomped off, leaving James in the stairwell, speechless.

By suppertime, Mary had reappeared, looking like she had the day before. Her hair had grown back to its former length, her eyes were free of the dazed appearance they’d held, and she was back in her school uniform. Laughs still followed her, but were slowly becoming quieter and more sparse. The mornings’ gossip was rapidly becoming forgotten. 

“Good as new,” McGongall had proclaimed her, when she escorted Mary to the Gryffindor table. 

James’ eyes had shot up at the words.

Good as new? Good as new?! 

No one else had seen Mary as they had, unconscious, dazed and naked. Completely vulnerable. And now McGonagall was proclaiming her ‘good as new’. 

He cornered Sirius after supper. He looked like he always did, effortlessly handsome, bored, but with that strange madness in the black eyes. 

“Jamie, what cats been tossed into your robe?” Sirius asked.

James took a deep breath, “You’re going to bring me Mulciber.”

“...I’m going to what?” Sirius asked.

“Mulciber. In the trophy room, at three in the morning.”

SIrius frowned, “What’s going on? Has someone found out we’re…you know.”

“Don’t be daft, of course not. Just be there. With him.”

“Alright,” Sirius said, “Are you angry at me? It seems like you’re angry.”

James scowled at him, “What do you think?”

Sirius seemed to go a little pale at that, his bored expression breaking ever so slightly, “What did I do?”

James just pushed past him, feeling Sirius’ eyes on his back as he climbed the stairs. 

Hidden under the invisibility cloak, James waited. Adrenaline was pumping under his skin, as he heard the footsteps of two people approaching. Sirius and Mulciber, he thought, finally. 

“This better be worth it, Black,” Mulciber said tiredly, “Walk up four bloody staircases at three in the morning, Merlin.”

“Just a little bit further,” Sirius said. “What I did to the Gryffindor Quidditch Trophy, it’s legendary!”

The two entered the room, Mulciber making his way directly over to the award, still shiny after only being issued last year. James had been a chaser on that team, he’d contributed to winning the trophy. 

“There’s nothing here, Black, what's going?”

Time to act.

“Levicorpus!” James casted, and Mulciber was thrown up in the air. “Expelliarmus!” his wand shot out, into James’ hand. His cloak was upside down, hanging over his face and blocking his sight. 

Mulciber’s voice was muddled by his cloak, “What – whose there! Black!”

Sirius was staring at James, “Hello?” he asked, walking towards him.

James took off the invisibility cloak. Sirius’ eyebrows shot up at the sight, before smiling tightly. “Done. Happy now?”

Mulciber let out an angry, muffled shout, “Let me down!”

“Why would I do that?” James demanded, “You didn’t let Mary MacDonald go last night.”

They both froze. 

Sirius frowned, “That’s what this bloody thing is about?”

Mulciber let out a laugh.

“Shut up!” James cried out, “You’re disgusting Mulciber, but you’re going to go to Dumbledore tomorrow and tell him what you did, understood?”

Mulciber only began to laugh even louder.

Frustrated, James fired a stinging hex at him.

Mulciber winced.

“James, what’s going on?” Sirius asked, “MacDonald’s just a mud-blood. It’s just a bit of fun with amortentia, that’s all.”

James scowled, “It’s not about that.” 

Remus echoed in his head, he couldn’t let SIrius think that he was a blood traitor, he couldn’t blow everything he’d worked hard for. 

“House politics,” Sirius said casually, “Is that why you’ve been all cross with me? It wasn’t about her being a Gryffindor, was it, Mulciber?”

Mulciber managed to take a breath in between laughs, “Didn’t help, the bloody whelp, going on and on about her muggle celebrations, so happy to be infecting our world with her filth. I thought it’d be funny to show her what a wizarding celebration of love could be. Reckon she enjoyed it?”

James shot another stinging hex at him, and again and again. “Tomorrow. You’ll tell Dumbledore what you did.”

“Now why would I do that?”

“I’ll make you,” James replied. 

Mulber’s laughter reached new heights, echoing through the room so loud that James was scared a nearby ghost might overhear. “Little brave Gryffindor, going to imperius me, will you?”

“Stop laughing!” James ordered, launching another small barrage of hexes at him.

Sirius was watching, his eyes flitting between Mulciber and James like it was a tennis match. 

“But this is just so funny–”

“Crucio!”

Time seemed to slow. 

The words had barely left James’ mouth before he realized what he said. The torture curse, and he’d directed at another person. The red light streaming from his wand was mocking him, a mockery of the hundreds of times he’d said those exact words and nothing had happened. Except this time, instead of a faint, muddy red, it was terrifyingly bright. 

It struck Mulciber in the centre of his back, fully exposed due to his robe having fallen over his face.

The moment it made contact, he lurched, spasmed and seized, suspended in midair. He screamed, screeched and cried, the loudest and most ear splitting sounds James had ever heard. It seemed to go on forever. James was frozen, his wand emitting the spell, Mulciber screeching.

And a hand pushed down on his arm, breaking his concentration. The spell broke, and James couldn’t tell if he was relieved or not. 

Sirius was next to him, pushing his wand arm down, his grey eyes terrified.

James gasped for breath, falling to the ground.

Mulciber’s body twitched. 

“Mulciber? Mulciber?!” Sirius rushed over to him, “Let him down, James, let him down!”

Wordlessly, James did so, and Mulciber collapsed onto the floor. 

Mulciber let out a groan. 

Sirius stared up at James, something new in his expression that James wasn’t sure he liked seeing. “I guess that solves one problem.”

James blinked. “Huh?”

“Congratulations, you performed the cruciatus on a person for the first time.”

The news washed over him. “He deserved it.”

Sirius slowly nodded, before his eyes lit up, “Lily Evans. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?”

Sirius was grinning like he’d won a war, “That crush you have on her, it’s not just for laughs, you really care for her, don’t you? And you don’t want Slytherin targeting her like Mulciber did to Mary.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Exactly. But um, don’t tell anyone.”

Sirius only winked at him, “We’ve all got our dirty little secrets, Potter. Muddy, in your case, it seems.”

James crashed onto the floor. “He’ll tell Dumbledore tomorrow. That’ll make him.”

Sirius sat next to him, and James leaned his head on his friend’s shoulder, exhausted. It felt wrong to be this comfortable with him, this trusting of him, but it was almost as if James didn’t have a choice. 

“Sorry, mate,” Sirius said, “But unless you want to be expelled, he’ll have to be obliviated.”

James shot up, “What?”

“Do you want him telling Dumbledore all about how you used an unforgivable? Have fun in Azkaban in that case.”

“Fuck.”

The silence hung in between them for a moment. James could feel the rise and fall of Sirius’ chest. 

Sirius fidgeted a little, “I’m just glad you aren’t cross with me. Had me worried there, Jamesy.”

“I was,” James said, “I really was.” He was still angry, that strange simmering anger that used to flood through his body whenever he thought of Sirius Black, before he’d crashed into the Christmas tree all those weeks ago. Now though, that anger was muffled, like it had sunk deeper into him. James wasn’t really sure what to make of it.

He should be angrier at Sirius, shouldn’t he? 

“Obliviate,” Sirius casted. 

The spell took effect. They stood up, casting a levitation spell and held onto Mulciber like he was one of those muggle hot air balloons that they needed to stop from flying away, all the way to the Slytherin Common Room entrance, where Sirius told him to return to Gryffindor.

James did, in a stupor. 

He landed in his bed and didn’t get a single wink of sleep.