Anthem of Lamentation

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Throughout the following week, James' mum made a valiant effort to lift his spirits and prevent them from hitting rock bottom. He confided in her the little he could of the situation, and his mum did her utmost to console him. She conveyed to him that, although it was far from ideal, many families had resorted to living off the grid in these troubling times. Although she hesitated to mention it, she explained how the evidence of alcoholism found at 'Frank's' old house hinted at deeper issues lurking beneath the surface.

He had wanted to snap back with a sarcastic, "No, duh," but he knew they were just trying to help. He tried to let the words help; he genuinely did, but what they thought a consequence of the war, James knew with certainty had more to do with a bigot's son being a werewolf.

He continued to voice his concerns, desperately clinging to the hope his mum's calm and confident reassurances would ease his inner conflict. Deep down, he wanted to trust her completely, but she didn't have the full picture. James knew his parents weren't entirely convinced he was being honest with them. He couldn't blame them, considering he was withholding certain truths. Each time he spoke about his missing friend, he was forced to use the name Frank instead of Remus, a constant reminder of the facade he had created. This left James torn between his unwavering loyalty to his friend and his obligation to his parents. The act of lying to them felt like a betrayal; every question he dodged somehow reminded him of getting slammed with a bludger. He despised the scarcity of details he could share, the weight of his friends’ secrets a necessary yet unwelcome burden. 

The ongoing emotional turmoil made him miss Corbyn, and he wished he had spoken to him at the beginning of his second year. At least the DADA professor would return as the Care of Magical Creatures professor. Regardless of how summer ended, he sensed he would need the man's wise counsel. After all, Corbyn accepted Remus, lycanthropy and all. James groaned whenever he reminded himself he hadn't yet tried to gauge his parents' stance on dark creatures, haunted by their potentially unfavourable responses. 

He still felt somewhat foolish for breaking down in front of Peter, but when he wrote to his friend, the reply he received offered no judgment—only understanding. Peter had even written Lily, Patricia, and the Prewetts, asking if they had heard from Remus. And because his mate was a lifesaver who knew James needed some cheering up, he’d included Lily's letter. As he unfolded her letter and re-read her familiar looping penmanship, a tiny spark of joy illuminated what was becoming a crummy summer. 

Dear Peter,

Thank you for writing to me. I haven't heard anything from you boys all summer. No one informed me Remus didn't have the mirror, which is why I hadn't reached out. It is very concerning if he genuinely doesn't have it, so please let me know whether you’re being truthful or just avoiding sharing. I can't stress enough how worried I am about him. Of course, if you’re not being honest, I'll be cross, but less so than if I know no one has heard from him yet, especially considering how late in the month it is. 

As for your birthday party, please don’t feel pressured to organise it this year. To be fair, I don't know how many people would show up, not because they wouldn't want to but because their parents would forbid them from going anywhere. I've received several letters from my roommates expressing that their parents are especially protective lately, presumably due to the war. Dorcas tries to keep me informed, but her parents insist she’s too young to handle the complete truth. It's driving her a bit mad, I reckon. 

If possible, should you write back, could you maybe include some clippings from the Daily Prophet? Tunney detests the owls, and my parents are unwilling to spend money on wizarding news. Besides, I'd prefer they remain oblivious about the war if possible. I should just die if they don't allow me to return to Hogwarts. They might very well do so if they hear about Voldemort and his vendetta against Muggle-borns. It's terrifying to think about what's happening. Luckily, as far as I know, my parents believe "You Know Who" is merely a harmless cult leader. I overheard them comparing Death Eaters to the 'hippie movement,’ which would be a tad bit funny if my parents weren't so misguided and if so many people weren’t dying. 

Overall, my summer has been a mix of boredom and uneventful days, but it’s not been entirely unbearable. Thank you for asking. How about yours? It's truly lovely hearing from you, so please don’t hesitate to keep our correspondence going. Most of my friends are preoccupied, and the only people I've spoken to are Mary and her brother from a phone box because their family isn't keen on owls. However, the constant noise in the background makes it challenging to have a proper conversation.

Wishing you the best,

Lily Evans

PS: If you boys are lying about Remus, you better include clippings, whether it's a hassle or not, for I shall be quite cross with the lot of you. But please still be truthful. I worry about him so much!

After re-reading it twice and trying to imagine a world where he got to see her over the summer, James laid the letter aside, unable to force a smile as disappointment smothered him. Nothing helped for long nowadays. He would have been fairing better, but the day Sirius was supposed to show up in the mirror while his parents were gone, he never appeared. 

James, consumed by worry for his missing friends, felt an empty silence where Sirius’ whispered explanation should have been. Trying to keep his mind off his two impossible friends, he picked up the letters again. He might have had to ask his mum to use a drying spell to preserve the tear-stained parchment, but he’d never admit it.

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The following day, he found his mood improved by Peter floo-calling, asking to properly hang out soon. His friend had recounted a brief response he'd received from someone claiming to be the Prewett twins' older sister. She'd relayed the heavy truth: neither Gideon nor Fabian had seen Remus or heard from him, though they promised to keep an eye out. And James doubted they would get a response out of Patricia, especially not if she had made things worse at the end of the school year by trying to force Remus to talk.

He hoped she hadn't, for Remus' sake, who had expressed feeling picked apart throughout their second year—a reasonable complaint considering that the Marauders and Lily had all found out about the werewolf's secret. And that wasn't even accounting for the illegal animagus who could turn invisible. Selfishly, James found himself torn between wanting to shift the blame to Patricia and feeling guilty for not supporting his friend when she confronted him on the train.

If only he had found a way to stop Remus from disappearing for the summer or had let Sirius convince him otherwise. But the greedy desire for a peaceful journey home from school, absent of Sirus' hostility, had clouded his judgment. That split-second decision to let Black sleep weighed heavily on his conscience. From day one, Sirius seemed to have the best chance of getting through to Remus. It didn't make sense, but utilising that skill would have been nice. 

James flicked a nail-sized quaffle through the miniature hoops on his desk, looking at the mirror set beside him frequently. Sirius should have contacted him three days ago now. He resented the reminder that he now had two friends to worry about, though he supposed that had always been the case. 

The Marauder had foolishly convinced himself that Sirius could navigate his summer without incident—an incredibly foolish hope considering how upset Sirius had gotten during their last conversation. While James couldn't imagine Remus' silence coming from a petty cause, Sirius might pull such a stunt. He wondered in despair if he'd get the cold shoulder for the rest of the summer. Had he pissed off his friend that much?

But what if Sirius was in trouble? What if he was at Grimauld Place, trapped in some dark corner of the basement with a creature bent on draining him of any happiness? No biggie…

He slammed his forehead on his desk with a loud, distressed groan. The impact sent pens scattering and the quaffle rolling to the floor. His mum's gentle knock cut through his grim imaginings. "Everything alright in there, love?"

"No!" he wailed miserably, his heart sinking. He couldn't keep lying to his mum; harbouring so many secrets felt like plummeting from a broken broom.

"Well, I might have something to cheer you up. A letter just arrived for you and--"

James leapt off his chair, darting across the room in a frenzy, and wrenched open the door with a bang. "Who is it from?" he asked, trying to reign in his eagerness. If it was from Remus and he started crying in relief, it would be obvious who he'd really been fretting over.

"It doesn't say; the envelope only had our address. But I scanned it briefly, and it's signed by someone calling himself Moony?"

Indignation overtook James' good sense for a moment. "MUM! You read it?" Panic nestled in his heart. He couldn't imagine Remus being reckless enough to mention his secret in a letter, but he couldn't risk his mum's suspicions growing.

"I said, scanned it, darling." He disregarded her attempt to appease him. 

"That's an invasion of privacy," he hollered, attempting to grab the letter and failing. For all his good Quidditch reflexes, he'd never beat his mum's.

"James Potter!" Uh oh , he probably shouldn't have snapped at her. "I do not appreciate your tone," she continued sternly, eyeing him for a moment, likely reading the desperation and fear written on his face that he wasn't particularly good at hiding, least of all from her. Her tone softened. "I know you are growing up, and your father and I do our best to respect your privacy as a growing boy reaching that age where--"

Oh, good Godric, if this is another puberty talk, I'm going to die!

"Mum, I'm sorry I snapped," he whined, silently begging her to take pity on him. Did she want him to combust before he read the letter from…. 

Wait… Moony? Moony! 

It's from Remus! 

He wasn't sure why his friend had kept his name off the letter, but there was no mistaking the nickname that made Sirius smirk every time someone used it. James' fingers itched to grab at the letter again. Damn, he was going to start crying in front of his mum if she didn't leave soon. The letter would reassure him Remus was okay, and by Merlin, he needed at least one of his concerning friends to be alright. His crumbling sanity depended on it. 

"It's alright, love, I forgive you. And we just wanted to make sure it was safe." That seemed like an odd statement, but he was too busy trying to get his mum to relinquish the letter to pay close attention. "Alright, alright, here you are. Do let us know if it's your friend you've been so worried about. We have been concerned for…Frank, and it would be nice to know he was safe," she sighed, finally surrendering. 

He took the letter with almost exaggerated slowness, thanking her with probably too much politeness by the way her eyebrows rose, and shut his door in the softest manner he probably would ever manage. Then he catapulted onto his bed and ripped open what better be good news without further ado!

Dear JP,

Thankfully, you forced me to remember your address because I don’t know our youngest friend's. I also don't know how kindly SB's family will take to him receiving a letter. I know you have the mirror, so I hope you have been talking to him all summer. I've been worried about him. I'm really sorry it took so long to write to you. It has been a busy summer. 

I am safe though. I imagine you all have been worried. I am genuinely sorry I made you worry for so long. Truth be told — this might sound like an excuse, or maybe you'll just laugh at me. I didn't know you could rent owls. I know, I know, it must seem like such an obvious thing, at least that's what my new friend has been telling me. But I had never needed to do it before, and I guess I just got so used to having access to the Hogwarts Owls whenever I liked. 

My new friend insists on taking me to an owlery, so even if I can't borrow hers again, I should be better about writing moving forward. Thankfully, I befriended someone with an owl. She was kind enough to let me use it. I suppose I should have considered the owl issue when we were discussing the mirror, but I hope it was the right choice for you to be able to keep in contact with SB. 

I don't know when you will get this because I know so little about owls. I can hear you laughing at me. But it's true. Will this take a day? Three? It's rather fascinating now that it's come to my attention. My friend told me owls can find people based on their names being said. Is that true? What an incredible yet potentially problematic system. 

What if someone changes their name? What if someone goes undercover? Would whispering their name while alone suffice, or would it need to be spoken between people? So many things to consider. I'm just saying that the whole thing is quite convenient, yet certainly not infallible. 

I'm eagerly looking forward to our reunion at Hogwarts. I've missed you all so much. Please convey my warm regards to everyone. And if you can, reassure SB that he does not need to worry about me. I'm perfectly fine and will be seeing you all soon.

Your friend,

Moony 

James stared at the letter again, the unfamiliar scrawl nagging at him only to disappear amongst his swirling emotions. The soft afternoon light filtered through his cracked bedroom window, illuminating every crease and fold of the paper to spotlight the significance of the words enclosed within. He could faintly hear his mum bustling around the house, her lavender spray still lingering in the air, but everything felt like a distant echo compared to the urgency thrumming in his chest. 

He collapsed against his plush pillows, comforted by the familiarity of his room—a refuge filled with Quidditch posters, replicas of his favourite teams, and the remnants of simpler times. Yet, the atmosphere still felt charged, the chirping birds an ill-timed reminder of what should have been a carefree summer. 

He initially considered Remus was using a cypher, undoubtedly a big enough swot to pull it off. But that didn’t seem right. Was he not using their names to protect them somehow? James' brow furrowed as he considered the foreboding implications of that. But it didn't make sense why Remus had wasted half the letter gushing over owls and didn't use any of their names. Why go by Moony? James must be missing something. He should tell his parents that 'Frank' was no longer missing. But he wasn't sure how true that was…

The envelope the letter came in had his address written in a messy large scrawl that looked like the work of a three-year-old. Staring at it made his gut twist. Was that also a message? His head hurt from all the pointless pondering. Remus would know not to make it too complicated, right?

As much as James would like to figure it out all by himself, he had been sleeping too poorly and stressing too much this summer, so his brain wasn’t working at max capacity. At least that's what he would tell people if the riddle proved laughably easy. Calling for Sirius in the mirror didn't work, and James refused to wait a moment longer than necessary to relay the vital information. Not that he had much of a choice.

"Oh, Remus, you're too smart for us," he whispered, frustration lacing his tone. He wasn't dumb enough not to know something was unquestionably wrong, even if ‘Moony’ would prefer to deny it. Hearing from his friend was, without a doubt, better than not. However, only Remus could draft a reply where he acknowledged their concerns, was sincerely apologetic for worrying them, and gave no details to alleviate their nerves besides "I'm fine." 

James wanted to stay annoyed at the roundabout communication, but relief won. Thank Merlin, his friend was at least alive and okay enough to write, even if he’d done so bizarrely. Only Remus would use a complicated word like ‘infallible’ in a letter; figuring out what the word meant might be a good start. Maybe it would ultimately unlock the whole confusing letter. 

Somehow, he doubted it.

Shoving the crumpled paper into his pocket, James descended the staircase, too downcast to slide down the silver handrailing. As he reached the bottom, he spotted his parents in the parlour, engaged in hushed conversation, their foreheads wrinkled with concern. He often caught them fretting together nowadays. While he hated keeping secrets from them, he hated even more that they were doing the same! James' curiosity rose with each quiet step, years of sneaking out past curfew at Hogwarts sharpening his stealth.

Peeking around the corner, he only caught fragments of their whispers. "I'm certain…..a wonderful device.” “.....soothe a lot of troubled souls…although I heard mention…" His father’s voice trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like an unfinished spell. James cursed inwardly, wishing he were as nimble on the ground as he was in the air. He abandoned slinking closer, straightening and giving the appropriate 'caught red-handed' sheepish smile, teetering between the thrill of discovery and the embarrassment of being caught.

"So, was it Frank writing to you, darling?" his mum asked smoothly, graciously ignoring her son’s snooping. Oh bollocks, he hadn't planned an answer! His parents looked so expectant and hopeful that he didn't have the heart to lie. Besides, 'Frank' could always go missing again if James needed his parents' help finding Remus. He knew they would take his concerns seriously even if they didn't understand them.

"Yeah. I guess you were right about Frank’s family going into hiding. He didn't tell me much, but he's okay, and that's what matters the most." Despite trying to hide his lingering concern behind nonchalance, his parents' worried looks told him he had failed spectacularly. 

"Would you like to go over to Peter's, son? You already look halfway out the door," his dad teased, rising from the armchair with a warm, comforting demeanour that never failed to lighten the atmosphere slightly. As he approached and pulled his son into a side hug, James couldn’t help but wonder how his mum had skimmed such a short letter. "You okay, kiddo? You seem glum."

"I just wish I could see him," he admitted, a wistful ache creeping into his voice. He wasn't entirely sure if he meant Remus or Sirius. "Hey, Dad?" He hesitated, not wanting to make things worse for his friends. However, he was legitimately concerned that not knowing Remus was relatively okay would lead to Sirius getting in trouble…if he hadn't already. 

"Hm?" his father prompted, his attention fully directed at James now.

"Uh…how long would it take to travel to London?" He shifted nervously as the question hung heavy in the air. 

"Is that where Frank lives?" his mum interjected with an inquisitive eyebrow arch, unmistakably reading his soul. 

James gulped, trying to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. "Well…no." He nearly rolled his eyes at the look his parents exchanged. Just great. 

"I don't suppose you would care to expand on why you'd like to randomly travel to London in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon, now would you?" His father’s tone held a teasing air that helped ease James’ frayed nerves, even as his mum’s expression shifted to a frown, her concern growing more evident.

"Owls take a while to deliver a letter…and I don't know if it would even work." Could that be what Remus was trying to say? It was a convoluted way to impress upon James that relaying the news to Sirius immediately was of utmost importance. It didn't seem likely. No, I’m still missing something…

James feigned ignorance to his parents' long glances, knowing they were perceptive enough to understand the deeper layer beneath the surface of his words. 

"Well, I’ll tell you what, kiddo. I could set up lunch tomorrow with an old colleague from my Sleekeazy start-up days. If you're alright listening to old men yap for hours, you can come with us, or maybe you can talk to your friend first and see if you can stay with them?" The amiable suggestion only furthered James’ stress. Here goes nothing.

"Right…I mean that's…fine. It's just. There's an infidelius-type charm on the place, and it's unplottable. I know how to get there since a member of the family gave me the address, but if you go with me, Dad, I won't be able to find it, so--"

"James?"

"Yes?" he squeaked, knowing from his mum’s no-nonsense tone that hiding the truth was pointless. 

"You wouldn't happen to be talking about visiting Grimmauld Place, would you?"

"....y-yes?"

He winced as she let out a bone-weary sigh. "And you can't wait until Sirius…arrives here." The phrasing made James cringe. The only reason he could promise Sirius that the Potters would leave him be and not ask questions was because they had already guessed why the boy would show up out of the blue looking worse for wear at best. Then again, it's not like it was a challenging deduction. 

"I… don't know when that will be mum…but…" His words faltered as he danced around the truth, aware his mum already knew it. “ It’s all rather ridiculous, ” he thought. But if Sirius found out James had confided even a shred of truth to his parents, he’d kill him. And if it came down to taking veritaserum to prove his innocence, he needed to be able to pass. "He will probably…be here faster if I can't let him know Re-…really," he stumbled, nearly letting another secret out of the bag. This is so bloody hard! "Really soon, about how Frank is okay." James bit his lip, wrestling with unvoiced worries as he attempted to keep the chaos at bay a little longer. 

"Mmm, this 'Frank' is important to all three of you boys? But not the four of you? Is he friends with Remus as well? You four were inseparable throughout the school year, and you’ve hardly mentioned him."

Son of a hippogriff!

James’ eyes widened—panic making him blurt, "We had a row because he likes Lily." While not an entirely untrue statement, he omitted their reconciling forever ago and that the 'like' meant whatever word Remus had used to describe it as non-romantic. Sirius had drilled into James the importance of weaving a thread of truth into a web of deception to lie effectively. He didn’t quite grasp the reasoning but wasn't about to question such wisdom.

"James Fleamont Potter," his mum scolded in surprise, her disappointment etched into her furrowed eyebrows. Uh oh. It seemed his plan had backfired. He hoped his friends wouldn't hate him. After all, it wasn’t his fault; he was ruddy and awful at lying. "You are a better friend than that. You wouldn't stop talking about Remus most of the year, and I know you like Lily, but--"

"I'm gonna marry her," he felt compelled to add hysterically, undeniably jittery over his parents buying the excuse. Maybe I’m getting better at this lying thing after all. Huh. 

"Whatever you say, darling," his mum continued in an unmistakably appeasing tone that stung a little. Why couldn't she take his word for it? Sure, he hadn't thought much about Lily lately, but he was sure he still liked her. He had just been preoccupied. Once he saw her again, he'd like her just as much. Right? 

"The point is, kiddo,” his father interjected, his tone turning serious. “the friendships you forge at Hogwarts—especially when you’re lucky enough to find good mates like your roommates—are for life. It might feel like Remus has betrayed you somehow, but is he even dating this Lily girl?”

James had to clamp his lips together to suppress an incredulous laugh. After all the relentless teasing he’d dished out to Remus over ‘liking’ her and the adamant reply he always received—that she was practically family—imagining them together was nothing short of ludicrous. "No."

"So he just likes her?" his mum asked in exasperation, tilting her head like he was the one who was making no sense! 

A cold shiver of apprehension snaked its way down his spine. He could envision future repercussions for this deception but didn’t have a solid alternative to offer. “Yeeeah,” he conceded, doubling down for effect. In a mock display of childhood drama, he whined, “But I liked her first.” 

His parents exchanged yet another knowing glance, their silence screaming volumes. Merlin, I’m going to break my record at this rate!

"James, sweetie, this might be hard to explain, but people can't help who they like. Sometimes, you fall in love without meaning to,” her tone softened with empathy as she grasped his dad’s hand. “Sometimes, you even fall in love with someone you desperately don't want to." 

Her words resonated deeply with him, but he wasn’t sure why. Thoughts whirled, derailing his original mission momentarily. Even though he felt foolish, he knew he could confide in his parents about anything…with a few devastating exceptions.

"What if…well, how would you know…someone else is in love?" He asked, his curiosity itching to break free. While relevant to his feelings towards Lily, he had a nagging feeling that Sirius might find this insight incredibly useful—it’s not like Mr or Mrs Black would steer their son toward the truth. They were turning fourteen soon, for Merlin’s sake! They needed to know this stuff. He was pretty sure.

"Hmm, that's honestly a tricky question, son.” his father mused, running a hand through his hair as he pondered the complexities of young love. “It's…well, it can be different for most people. How do you know you love Lily?"

His heart skipped a beat, caught completely off guard by the directness of his father’s question. "Well, she's pretty,” he stammered, growing increasingly flustered. “And I like challenging Lily to things and…" he hesitated, but this might be important, "I sometimes like to make her annoyed or like…you know, flustered, but in a funny, super respectful way," The last part rushed out, a defensive manoeuvre against his mum’s disapproving gaze. 

His father chuckled, a warm hand landing on his shoulder. “Ah, the classic ‘tug her pigtails’ strategy.” 

“Fleamont,” his mother admonished, though her lips quivered in a suppressed smile. 

“It’s entirely normal for his age, love,” his father reassured her with a grin. “Just be sure your teasing doesn’t venture into cruelty. I promise you won’t win her heart that way.” His dad waggled a finger at him with a wink.

James was beginning to lose patience with this conversation. "Are you going to answer my question or not?" he asked petulantly, causing his mum to shake her head at him.

"Well, if you want to know the answer, I could tell you how I knew I loved your father," she suggested with a coy smile, a slight lilt to her words that got overshadowed by his intense disgust. 

"Ugh. Gross! Yuck," James exclaimed with exaggerated dismay, making sure his parents understood just how terrible an idea that was. His parents exchanged amused smiles, their chuckling somehow highlighting his childishness.

"That's alright. It just means you aren't as curious about this topic as you think.” His father ruffled his hair playfully. “You're still young, Jamsey boy; don't rush it."

"You know I can just look at books or stuff if you don't answer me," James huffed, an exaggerated pout forming as he wielded the threat like a shield against this dizzying exchange. 

With a hearty laugh, his father nodded. "Let's see…when you’re in love, you want to spend time with this person all the time, but it feels different than just hanging out with your friends; you want to know everything about them, and you find even the bizarre quirks they do endearing; you find them cute or pretty, hmm let's see what else…"

"Don't forget lighting up when they come in a room and wanting to touch them…" His mum stared James down, who felt his face get rather hot, "in an appropriate way and with their consent..."

"Ahem, Euphemia, love, he's not even fourteen yet."

"Yeah geez, mum, it's not like…like I'm gonna just walk up to Lily and k-kiss her," James stammered, heart hammering as his face turned the shade of a tomato.

"It doesn't have to be just that. Not everyone wants that at your age or is ready," his father mused. At least when he talked, James didn't feel his soul was being inspected. His mum could be so…intense sometimes, geez. "It can also be holding hands, wanting to hug them a bunch, or even cuddle with them."

A strange image floated into James' mind of his two mates holding hands while asleep. For some odd reason, he felt sort of…shaky, not worried exactly, but perhaps…uncertain.

"B-but friends hold hands and hug and stuff," he defended; who or what exactly, he wasn't positive; he just felt he needed to defend…defend something. Oh, there they go, looking at each other again. Maybe reading each other's minds with nothing more than a look is another sign. But that was something even he and Sirius did occasionally, and James wanted to gag thinking about kissing him. Bleh! He started to believe that his mum and dad were purposefully trying to confuse him.

"See, that's part of why this is a hard topic to have with anyone, but especially someone your age," his mum mused wistfully. 

"I'm not dumb!" he protested hotly, the letter he had yet to figure out burning a hole in his pocket.

"We aren't saying you are," his dad pacified. "It's just you haven't lived a lot of life yet. Some things you just find out through living, James, and there's no way around it. Much of what we described can be aspects of friendship, but it feels different when there is some romantic attraction. Just try to keep an open mind about all this, kiddo. I promise it will make more sense one day. And I know your mum and I like to tease you, but we're always here to answer any questions. Sound good?"

James recognised how far off track he had gotten from his original mission, but he couldn't help but find himself strangely satisfied with his progress. He felt a sense of accomplishment, having potentially learned some valuable and horribly confusing information. And if nothing else, he could always rub it in Sirius' face that he knew more about an adult topic than him.

"Any other questions, son?"

"Uh, we are still going tomorrow, right?"

"I don't know how I feel about you going alone…"

"You don't have to be that far away. And I'm almost fourteen, dad." The snort his father gave him showed the man knew what a drastic exaggeration that was. Dammit, why can’t my birthday be in October like Sirius'. "Well…" James tried to think of something he could say to show what an almost adult he was. "going to Grimmauld Manner can't be any worse than facing inferi," his voice wobbled as he brought it up, but he hadn't had a nightmare about that specific topic in almost a week. He was basically healed from what his mum had called a 'traumatic experience.' Not feeling as bothered was a massive relief to James because he needed to be alright once they arrived back at Hogwarts; he had to be up for helping his friends.

"Let me talk to your mother about it, okay?"

He knew arguing would be futile at this point. 'Talk to your mother' or 'father' was code for leaving the adults to discuss matters that 'little ears' shouldn't hear. Resisting the urge to groan, he stomped upstairs and collapsed on his bed. Pulling out Remus' letter, he didn't read it a fourth time; he just stared at it, mind spinning with so many confusing things. Growing up sure was hard.