November 1971
James and Barty ate their cookies in silence.
“Are you leaving now?” Barty had asked after they’d finished. James thought about it, before deciding he could stay a bit longer, his parents wouldn’t mind him keep another child company.
“No, I’ll stay.” James confirmed, and he watched the boy’s face light up.
“How’d you the cookies?”
“There was a room, a room full of them.”
“Do you think you get more?”
“We could.”
“We?”
“You and me.”
Without any preparations beforehand, they’d quietly left the room, with a pep in their steps. James asked more about the boy and he had learnt a great deal. Barty was a kid born in Australia and had spent only one or two years there. His parents had supposedly passed in a fatal car crash, thereafter, he was sent to England to live with a couple who had been close with his parents. He was a troubled kid though.
“My new mum doesn’t fancy me much.”
It didn’t really make sense to little James. Mothers were born to love their kids; from the minute they knew they were going to have them. It was a natural bond, magical even. That should’ve applied to adoptive mothers too. Children were just children.
“Maybe she needs time.”
“I don’t think I have any. I’m only four, how could I have some?”
That was another thing about Barty. He talked really well for a muggle child. Most wizarding children could speak fluently around five or six. There was something about the DNA evolving, blood and whatnot.
“No I don’t mean that literally. Well I sort of do. Oh, here we are! That’s the door!”
And there it was, the same door entrance from before. It was a miracle they found it, because James truly had no idea where he was leading them.
“You were right! Look at the stuff inside!”
James watched as Barty curiously peeked inside, in awe at what he saw. James could feel what he felt in that very moment, and it was a pleasant feeling.
“It’s empty! Let’s go in quick before anyone comes.”
Barty nodded quickly, before he sprinted inside. James followed in suit, trailing after the boy. He savored every step this time and took his time in deciding what pastry he’d take. There were donuts now, fresh, warm donuts. And that cold kind if you preferred it, but James liked his donuts warm.
“Do you want a donut?” He asked Barty, who was standing across him.
“The cold ones.”
James disapproved, shooting him a face with his nose turned upwards, but he snagged the donut for him anyway. Barty, ever so smart, had grabbed a paper plate and was loading it up with all sorts of goodies. James had told him to get some for him too.
And it wasn’t long before their greed had come to the end and they decided to go leave and eat. They found themselves outside once again, yet, there was no one in sight. The scenery was unfamiliar to the James, though, the grass was fake.
“Who knows where we are…” James muttered.
Barty couldn’t help but settle down immediately and began munching. James who wanted his share began eating vigorously too.
“Tell me more about yourself.” He spoke between mouth falls.
“Dunno what else I can tell you.” Barty responded, his mind entirely unfocused.
“Think about it really hard. Maybe something about Australia?” and that had done the trick, because Barty he stopped. He looked around, worried someone would catch him guilty.
“Well, there is one thing. But promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“I promise.”
“I think- No, wait. I know I have an older sister.”
-
Peter had been distant.
James didn’t know when he’d become distant or why, but he had just realized. Worst of all, he didn’t know how to approach Peter – he found himself constantly surrounded by piles of homework, detention for mishaps in class, Sirius or all three. It was hard for James to get time for himself, let alone dedicate it to checking up on Peter.
Thankfully, some time in late November, Sirius and Remus had earned themselves detention for fighting, or attempting to at least, during class. There was ample time for homework to be done and it was just Peter and James in their room.
“Pete?”
Peter looked up, and asked him what he needed.
“No nothing, just, everything okay with you?”
Peter nodded, before going back to his textbook.
James punched himself internally, and the pain reverberated throughout his body.
“Pete?”
Peter looked up again, and waited.
“Sorry nothing.”
Another make belief punch. It was hard to talk to Peter for some reason. What had come naturally to James like walking and flying on a broomstick, suddenly became trying to make Liquid Luck.
“Peter?”
The other boy looked up again, and it was obvious he was agitated by the constant calling.
“Yes?”
James didn’t know what to say. He had a hundred and one things to say, but he didn’t know how to, he couldn’t find the words. So, he said the two words he knew Pete would get.
“I’m sorry.”
There was a brief pause or two, and then Peter spoke again.
“Me too.”