In Which James Potter Decides to Chase After Redemption
James Potter had a plan. It was a terrible plan. But it was a plan, nonetheless.
The encounter with Regulus Black in the café had thrown him off balance. That wasn’t unusual; James had a history of being thrown off by random people with strong opinions. What was unusual was how much Regulus’s opinion had stuck with him.
The guy hadn’t even known who he was—he’d roasted his book like it was some sad attempt at fan fiction—and yet James had spent the last two days fixating on that blunt, beautifully accurate criticism. And something about the way Regulus had looked at him when he mentioned the boat metaphor… as if he’d seen right through the layers of pretentious writing and found the heart of it.
“Maybe I should just rewrite the whole thing,” James muttered to himself as he stared at his laptop. "Forget the plot and just… I don’t know. Set the whole thing on fire and see what happens."
Remus, who had once again found himself in James’s flat for tea and accidental existential crises, didn’t even glance up from his book. “That’s called a rewrite, Prongs. And no, you can’t burn the manuscript. The trees will actually be mad at you.”
James rolled his eyes, dramatically flipping his pen in the air. “I need something to inspire me. A muse. A fire under my—”
“Not your actual manuscript, mate. That’ll get you arrested. Also, have you considered maybe—just maybe—talking to the person who gave you the criticism instead of spinning around in circles like a lost puppy?”
“I’m not a puppy,” James grumbled.
Remus closed his book with a soft thud. “Look, I know you're dramatic, but seriously. Regulus gave you the kind of feedback every writer dreams of. It’s raw. It’s honest. He didn’t pull any punches, and it’s exactly what you needed.”
James paused, chewing on his lower lip. “Yeah, but now I’m obsessed with him. I keep thinking about the way he said it. He didn’t like the book, but I don’t think he hated it either. It was more like—he wanted to fix it.”
“That’s a lot of projection for one breakfast, Prongs,” Remus said, picking up his tea again.
“It’s not projection, it’s clarity,” James shot back. “I need to fix the book, and maybe I need to talk to him. About it. I mean, what if he’s the one person who really gets it?”
“Or,” Remus said, “he’s the one person who’ll tear you apart to your face in public again.”
James grinned, unbothered. “That’s what makes it exciting.”
Remus sighed, shaking his head. “You are insufferable.”
“I know.”