Whispers in the stacks
The low hum of students’ chatter filled the classroom, but it was quickly stifled the moment Professor McGonagall began to speak. Her commanding presence was enough to draw everyone's attention, and even the most distracted students straightened up.
Remus and Sirius sat together, as they always did, with Peter positioned just behind them. Normally, James would be right there too, his energy impossible to ignore. But today, something was off—James’s seat was conspicuously empty. Remus distinctly remembered seeing him at lunch, so where could he have gone?
Frowning slightly, Remus glanced back at the vacant chair, a flicker of worry threatening to distract him. But he shook it off with a quiet exhale, telling himself that James would have had a reason. There was no use speculating now.
Turning his focus back to the front of the room, Remus forced himself to tune into Professor McGonagall's lecture. The upcoming Transfiguration exam loomed large in his mind, and he knew how critical it was to pay attention. No matter where James was or what might be going on, Remus couldn't afford to let his thoughts wander.
As Professor McGonagall continued her lecture, her wand moved with practiced precision, animating the diagrams on the blackboard. Remus jotted down notes as quickly as he could, his quill scratching softly against the parchment. Despite his best efforts to concentrate, his gaze kept flickering to James’s empty chair.
Sirius, who had been slouching with his chin resting on his hand, leaned over and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Moony, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Remus hesitated, keeping his eyes on his notes. “James isn’t here,” he murmured, barely audible over the steady cadence of McGonagall’s voice.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, glancing back at James’s empty seat. “Huh. You’re right. That’s odd. He was stuffing his face with treacle tart not even an hour ago.”
Remus gave a faint nod, his brows knitting together. “Exactly. I figured he’d be here.”
Sirius shrugged with a nonchalance that didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a faint flicker of concern in his gaze, though he masked it well with his usual air of casual indifference. “He’s probably holed up in the library,” he murmured. “You know how he gets—always studying for some imaginary test.”
Remus snorted softly, his voice barely above a whisper to avoid drawing McGonagall’s attention. “True. James does have a knack for stressing over exams that aren’t even scheduled yet.”
Despite the lightheartedness of their exchange, Remus couldn’t shake the faint unease in the pit of his stomach. Quickly realizing that he was falling behind, he redirected his focus. His quill darted across the parchment as he hurried to copy down the notes from the blackboard, determined not to miss any crucial details from the lecture.
Professor McGonagall’s words cut through the quiet hum of quills and parchment, her tone sharp and precise as she walked the class through the finer points of human-to-object transfiguration. Remus forced himself to concentrate, though a part of his mind continued to wander, replaying the memory of James at lunch—perfectly fine, joking with Sirius, flinging peas, nothing out of the ordinary.
As the diagrams on the board shifted under McGonagall’s wand movements, Remus bit his lip in frustration. He needed to stay focused. The exam was only days away, and if he let his thoughts spiral, he’d risk falling behind. Yet, even as he tried to push the worry aside, the nagging question remained: Where was James, and why wasn’t he here?
After hastily scrawling every last detail from the blackboard onto a small, crumpled piece of parchment, Remus barely waited for Professor McGonagall to finish her closing remarks before gathering his things. His heart thudded with a mixture of concern and urgency as he weaved through the crowd of students pouring out of the classroom.
The moment he was clear of the bustle, he headed straight for the Gryffindor common room, his strides quick and purposeful. Pushing through the portrait hole, he scanned the familiar space, his sharp eyes darting to every corner. But there was no sign of James—no unruly dark hair sticking out in every direction, no loud, boisterous voice carrying across the room. His worry deepened.
Determined, he turned on his heel and made his way to the library. It seemed the next most likely place, considering James’s occasional tendency to cram for exams in a last-minute burst of effort. The library was eerily quiet compared to the noisy corridors, the faint rustle of turning pages and the scratch of quills the only sounds to break the stillness.
Row by row, Remus ventured down the long aisles of towering bookshelves, his gaze scanning for any trace of his friend. With each empty row, his anxiety grew. Where could he possibly be? The unanswered question weighed heavier with each step.
Finally, as he rounded a corner near the Charms section, he came to an abrupt halt. There, tucked into the corner of a secluded study nook, was James. Relief surged through Remus—but it was quickly followed by confusion when he saw who James was with. Regulus Black sat beside him, their heads bent close together over a shared piece of parchment. The two seemed deep in conversation, their proximity far closer than what could be written off as mere necessity.
Remus exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The knot of tension in his chest eased slightly. At least James wasn’t hurt or in trouble. Still, the sight of the unlikely duo left him intrigued—and, if he were honest, a little amused.
Steeling himself, he walked toward them, his footsteps soft against the library’s stone floor. When he was close enough, he called out in a low but cheerful voice, “Hey, Prongs! You weren’t in Transfiguration.”
James looked up, startled, his hazel eyes wide for a split second before a sheepish grin spread across his face. “Oh, sorry,” James stammered, his grin turning slightly awkward as he scratched the back of his neck. “I was… helping Regulus with… Charms.” His voice carried a hint of hesitation, as if he were piecing the excuse together on the spot.
Remus raised a skeptical eyebrow, his eyes shifting to Regulus. The younger Black brother wasn’t making much of an effort to sell the story. Instead, he wore a faint, almost mischievous smile—a knowing expression that suggested he’d been up to something he was certain Remus wouldn’t approve of. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped over the back of his chair as though he had all the time in the world.
Remus tilted his head, his keen gaze flicking between the two. “Charms?” he repeated, his tone laced with mild disbelief. His arms crossed over his chest as he studied James’s expression, which was now teetering between guilt and defiance. “Funny, I didn’t know helping with Charms involved whispering in hushed tones and sitting closer than most people do during duels.”
Regulus’s smirk grew a fraction wider, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “What can I say? James is an excellent teacher,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with a mix of mockery and something else that Remus couldn’t quite put his finger on.
James shot Regulus a sharp look, as if silently pleading with him to keep quiet. “It’s not a big deal, Moony,” he said quickly, brushing off the insinuation. “We were just going over a tricky spell, that’s all.”
Remus snorted softly, though the corners of his mouth twitched with restrained amusement. “Right,” he said, drawing the word out. “Because when I think of tricky Charms, the first thing that comes to mind is finding a secluded spot in the library with Regulus Black.”
James flushed slightly, and Regulus chuckled under his breath. “Don’t be so suspicious, Lupin,” Regulus drawled, his tone light but laced with a subtle edge. “Not everything is a grand conspiracy. Sometimes people just… find themselves in unexpected company.”
“Unexpected is one word for it,” Remus said, his eyes narrowing slightly. He leaned casually against the edge of the table, addressing James more directly now. “You realize McGonagall’s probably ready to give you detention for skipping class, right? I had to sit next to Sirius while he muttered about hexing Slughorn under his breath for an hour. Thanks for that.”
James groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’ll deal with McGonagall later. And Sirius… well, he’s probably just mad I’m spending time with his brother.”
“Or that he didn’t think of skipping first,” Remus said dryly. “But seriously, Prongs. If you’re going to disappear in the middle of the day, at least give me a heads-up next time. You had me worried for a minute.”
James softened at that, offering a more genuine smile. “Sorry, Moony. Didn’t mean to worry you. Next time I’ll… leave a note or something.”
“Please do,” Remus replied, straightening up. His gaze flicked once more to Regulus, whose smile hadn’t wavered in the slightest. Whatever had brought the two of them together, it was clear James wasn’t ready to share—and Regulus wasn’t about to offer any explanations, either.
“Well,” Remus said, breaking the brief silence. “If you two are done with your Charms lesson, we’ve got some actual work to do back in the common room. And Sirius might spontaneously combust if you don’t show your face soon.”
James winced at the mention of Sirius, but he nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll meet you back there in a bit.”
With one last glance at the unlikely pair, Remus turned on his heel and walked back toward the library entrance, his mind buzzing with questions he knew would go unanswered for now. Whatever James was up to, it was bound to be interesting—and, knowing him, probably trouble.