The worst day of James Potter’s life began quite ordinarily.
He woke up at 6 AM (the crack of dawn, according to Sirius) and did a quiet workout on the floor. He showered. He tried not to disturb Remus, who was enjoying his hallowed reading and chocolate time on the sill with a cap canted down to shade his eyes from the light breaking over the windowsill. When 7:30 rolled around, he and Remus drew straws for who got to kick Sirius and Peter’s beds to get them awake (Remus always won and James thought he was cheating, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to prove it.
The Marauders managed to get themselves situated in the Great Hall with copious quantities of porridge and eggs and bacon and toast by 8 AM sharp, which all things considered, James was well pleased with.
And then, at 8:15 exactly, the owls came rushing through the hall. As if on cue, Sirius began to scream.
The noise in the hall stuttered and then petered out as Sirius toppled to the floor, mouth twisted in a rictus howl, hands scrabbling at his chest, Remus on his knees beside him, face twisted into a mask of fear. Sirius screamed and screamed and screamed and somehow, James’s eyes locked on the next table over where amongst a crowd of confused and fearful faces, Regulus Black held himself stiff and silent, his breath sharply held, as if he too, was in pain.
And then slowly, slowly, Regulus turned towards the chaos. James watched his eyes glaze over the hall’s sudden uproar, to Remus’s frantic gesticulations, to Sirius, hunched, still screaming and tearing at his chest as if his heart was breaking in two, as if the pain would cut him in half.
James watched the smile split across Regulus’s face, an expression deeper and clearer than satisfaction or glee – relief.
James thought it was the first moment in his life that he had ever truly felt hate.
***
The hospital wing, for James, ordinarily was a place of great calm.
Not that things had ever gone well when he visited. Ordinarily it was where they went when a full moon had gone out of control, when Remus or Sirius or Peter was hurt because of a transformation or home or in Peter’s case, simply tripping down the stairs. But yet, beneath his worry, there was always a sense within him that there was nothing that Poppy Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall together could not handle – and the two of them were always there. Ordinarily, that sense of security was enough to cut through his anxiety for his friends.
But today, the eeriness of an entirely normal day gone so suddenly and stunningly wrong cut through that peace. Today, Poppy wouldn’t let the Marauders cluster around Sirius’s bed. Today, they were relegated to chairs outside the hospital wing.
“Jamie.”
“Mum!”
James had barely stood before he was swept into the arms of one Effie Potter. He melted into his mother, into her scent of lavender and mint and a bit of Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion, and let the tension drain from him. “Mum, how’s Sirius?”
He pulled away reluctantly to see Remus and Peter on their feet, Fleamont Potter standing just behind Effie. His father clapped him on the shoulder.
“He’s going to be just fine, son,” said Fleamont soothingly. “Don’t you all worry. He’ll be just fine by tomorrow.”
“But sir, what happened?” asked Remus. Lines were etched into his brow; his friend looked like he’d aged ten years sitting there in the hall.
Effie sighed. “It seems that Walburga has seen fit to disown Sirius.”
Peter frowned. “Hadn’t that already happened? When she kicked him out and he came to live with you, Mrs. Potter?”
“Legally, yes,” said Effie. “But Sirius isn’t just a wizard. He’s a pureblood – a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Walburga legally disowned him – but she just magically disowned him as well. Burned him off the family tree. It’s the only way to ensure that Sirius is no longer the Black heir, that he can receive no gold or titles, be let into no vaults or lands protected by blood magic, receive no inheritance no matter how many Black family members may die. By legal precedent and magical now, Sirius is no longer Sirius Black – he’s just Sirius.”
“No he’s not,” said James immediately. “He’s Sirius Potter. He always will be.”
Effie ran a fond hair over James’s hair. “Of course he is, Jamie.”
“But I don’t understand,” said Remus, looking distressed. “Why did it hurt him so much?”
Fleamont put an arm around Remus’s shoulders. “It’s a difficult thing, son. You see, magical blood ties aren’t just words we say – they’re tangible things, twined around a wizard or witch’s heart and magical core. To burn one out is said to be one of the most painful things a person can endure – worse than a Cruciatus, worse even than death, perhaps. It’s why in Pureblood society, divorce is so rare – Pureblood marriages involve magical bonds. Many would rather endure a lifetime of misery than willingly sever one.”
Remus had gone alarmingly white. “But he will get better?”
“Certainly, dear,” said Effie comfortingly. “He’s in for a rough day and the next month will be quite painful. But the effects will fade with time. They’ll never be gone entirely, but they should fade to no more than a dull ache by the month’s end.”
“Can we see him?” asked James.
“Give Madam Pomfrey another hour or so,” said Fleamont. “This is delicate and she shouldn’t be disturbed.”
“But he’s all alone,” said Remus. “He would never let us be alone.”
“Minerva’s with him, dear, and I’m about to go back in,” said Effie. “I promise we’ll come and get you so you can be with him when he can notice you. All right?”
“And you can wait right here in the meantime,” said Fleamont. “I’ll get you boys some sandwiches.”
All of the boys looked rather disgusted by the thought and Fleamont laughed weakly. “I’ll at least get them, and if you can’t eat them that’s alright. But I want all of you keeping your strength up now. You can’t help SIrius if you don’t take care of yourselves first. All right?”
Peter looked somewhat intrigued by the prospect. Remus flopped back down onto his chair with an exhausted sigh.
***
Nighttime found Sirius sweaty and barely conscious, eyes rolling madly behind fluttering lids. Despite their best protests, Madam Pomfrey would only allow one of them to stay with him – a position Remus claimed with such angry authority that everyone knew better than to question him.
Back in their dorm, James found the silence stifling. Peter crawled into bed and passed out immediately, worn out by the stress of the day. As he snored, James tossed and turned, missing the sound of Sirius mumbling to his dreams, Remus’s restless snores, the sound of sleepy voices grumbling at each other to knock it off.
Eventually, around one, he kicked off his blankets and snatched up his Nimbus 1973 from under his bed. Stooping down by Remus’s trunk, he rifled through the meticulously organized dividers until he found at the bottom an old scrap of parchment, carefully folded along well-used creases.
Flipping it open with practiced hands, he pressed the tip of his wand to it and murmured “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”
The map bloomed to life, ink unfolding across its creases and crevices until he beheld Hogwarts before him. Most names were clustered in houses, Prefect rounds long over, but he still skimmed it to check for errant ghosts or teachers in his path to the Quidditch grounds. Filch and his damn cat safely in their office, Nearly Headless Nick near the kitchens, … and up in the Astronomy Tower, one Regulus Black.
A blind rage overtook James as he stared at that name, remembered the smile that had spread across Regulus’s face as his brother, his own flesh and blood, had writhed and screamed on the Great Hall floor. Not Mulciber, not Crabbe, not even goddamned Snivellus had dared smile at the sight, but Regulus – Regulus had the heart of a killer. James was sure.
Before he could think it through, he had snatched up his wand and broom and was hurtling out the door, not bothering to stop to make sure the door didn’t slam behind him.
***
James banged into the Astronomy tower without bothering to hide his presence and Regulus Black turned, slowly, almost dreamlike.
The truth was, he was an almost unfairly beautiful boy. Haloed in the moonlight, he looked like a Renaissance painting: thickly clustered black curls, gray eyes like smoke, just the barest flush of pink in his cheeks from the winter cold. He was perched on the wall that ran around the Astronomy Tower like some great, misshapen bird.
“Oh,” he said, sounding almost surprised. As close to a real, human emotion as James had ever heard from him. “Of course you’re here.”
“Yeah, I’m here, you twat,” said James, advancing on him with no small amount of menace in his voice. “You know what they were going to do, didn’t you? I saw you smile.”
“Knew? No,” said Regulus, his voice still faraway. “Hoped.”
“Because you’re sick,” spat James. “You’re sick. You want him to hurt. You want him to bleed. You’re all the same and you’re pathetic, you know that, you really are pathetic –”
“I never wanted him to hurt,” said Regulus softly. “Don’t you see? I saved him. I finally, finally saved him …”
“He’s in the hospital wing, you wanker!” James’s voice was shriller than he wanted it and he was suddenly very cold.
“It’s going to be okay now,” said Regulus, smiling. “It’s finally going to be okay. It’s over, it’s over, it’s over, it’s so quiet, Jamie.”
James was too stunned by the use of the nickname to speak.
“It’s quiet,” whispered Regulus. “I did it.”
“You don’t even care,” said James into the night. “You don’t give a damn about him.”
“I love him so much I could die from it,” corrected Regulus. “Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. But it’s all right. Because I did the right thing. Just once, you know?”
“What are you even talking about?” demanded James, exasperated.
Regulus smiled, beatific. He looked … angelic, when he did that. James had never seen it and despite himself it made something twist in his chest. “I’d hoped for him, you know? But this is right.” He pushed himself off the tower’s supporting beam and James realized, suddenly, how precariously he was standing, how close to the edge, supported by only the narrow wall they propped their telescopes either.
“Regulus get down,” he said suddenly, feeling a terrible urgency. “Get down now.”
“You’ll take such good care of him,” said Regulus. “You can now. You won’t need to worry at all.”
“Regulus this isn’t funny –”
“I’m finally done,” whispered Regulus Black into the night. “I can finally sleep.”
And before James could get out a single word, Regulus closed his eyes, that same big, beautiful smile on his face, and toppled backwards off the Astronomy tower.