Duty and Duplicity

Monday, August 23rd, 1971.

“Peter got his letter four months ago.” James whined as he flung himself onto Jamila’s bed. This was the third time today . Jamila grimaced, smoothing out her bed sheets from where he’d rumpled them, biting her nails anxiously. Her eyes glued to the pages of the book she’d been so peacefully reading.

She could hear the house elf, Mellie, bustling about the house. Her mother was busy cooking, her father busy working. She often wondered who James would talk to if he didn’t have her just across the hall.

“Mum said they get delayed sometimes.” Jamila parroted her own mothers words and shrugged, trying not to make eye contact so he would get the gist that she wasn’t in a chatting mood. She personally had been worrying about potentially being a squib. She’d been up all night reading up on muggle jobs. None of them seemed nearly as fun as the options in the wizarding world. 

“Everybody keeps saying that.” He grumbled, clearly not getting the hint and rubbing his eye underneath his glasses. He flung his arms out with an exaggerated huff and one hand landed on Jamila’s leg. She shook it off promptly and marked her book and placed it on her bedside. She eyed him in fond annoyance. When James got to worrying there was little one could do to ease it until a solution was presented. 

They were both so similar in features - they shared the same curly black hair, the brown skin, curious brown eyes and the smile of their mother - yet they were so strikingly different in personality. 

“Go talk to dad about it, maybe he can write to Dumbledore or something.” She sighed.

“By the time Dumbledore even reads the letter the term will have started! Plus it sounds kind of desperate, writing to the headmaster.” 

Jamila rolled her eyes. “But you are desperate,” she insisted exasperatedly. She stood and busied herself, pointlessly rearranging trinkets on her bookcase. James made a muffled groan and she was disappointed to see he was face-down on the covers, with his arms ramrod straight by his side, not taking the hint. 

“What if we’re not magic enough?” He peeked out at her, giving her the uncertain look he always had on his face when he needed reassurance.

Jamila turned her back to him once again, shrugging as she moved a small figurine to the right and back to the left in an attempt to look busy. 

“We’re magic enough.” 

Her voice held less convection than she’d hoped. She fidgeted with a few trinkets as she thought of all the times James caused the cabinets to fly open because he was excited, or when it began to rain in the room when Jamila would cry. 

Surely that was magic enough. 

She took a deep, grounding breath like her parents had taught her and turned to face him. He was still pouting.

She was about to chastise him for being a big baby when her mother’s voice carried into their room from downstairs.

“Kids! Come down here, please!” Euphemia’s elated voice had James on his feet in seconds. The twins looked at each other for a moment as a silent realisation settled between them. Two identical, ear-splitting grins plastered themselves onto their faces as they rushed out of Jamila’s room and bounded down the steps to the grand landing on the ground floor.

Euphemia and Fleamont Potter stood there, both holding a letter in their hands. Jamila reached out for the one their father held, crossing over James’ arm as he reached for the letter in their mothers’. She felt her eyes widen as she thumbed the red wax seal in awe. It was embossed with a beautiful letter H. She peeled it off carefully leaving it perfectly intact, for safekeeping of course, and pulled the letter out. 

Dear Ms Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1st September, 1971. We await your owl by no later than 31st August, 1971.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall  

Deputy Headmistress

The letter was clearly pre written and signed afterward, she knew this because her father did it all the time for business correspondences, but in the lower heading, she noticed a note handwritten in cursive:

P.S. Sorry for the delay, there was an issue with scheduling. Your mother has already sent us an owl advising you both will be attending.

Jamila looked at James, her eyes wide. He’d torn his letter open and was practically buzzing with excitement.

“We’re in!” James yelled excitedly, already running up the stairs to pack even though they still had almost a whole week.

“Mum, it says you wrote to McGonagall saying we’d be attending, why didn’t you tell us?” Jamila tilted her head fractionally in question.

“It’s far more exciting to get the news via letter, Dear. Besides, I told you both not to worry, didn’t I?” Her mother smiled in that way that disarmed her completely, and it was infectious too. Jamila had her own grin mirroring Euphemia's as she wrapped her arms around her mother. Euphemia leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Jamila's hair. “Go tell your brother he doesn’t need to pack yet.” She murmured in Urdu and Jamila nodded before turning and rushing up the stairs. 

“James! No need to pack-” She stopped short at his door when he wasn’t in there. She narrowed her eyes and made her way to her room where she saw James sitting on her bed, rifling through her vinyl collection. “Oi!” She snatched her brand new pressing of The Man Who Sold the World by David Bowie from his hands. 

“I’m just looking for a record!” James snatched it back, placing it neatly in the box. 

“What do you need a record for?” She asked exasperatedly. 

“Aha!” He smiled brightly as he pulled Abbey Road by The Beatles out of her box, causing her to groan. 

“You know I don’t like this album.” She flopped onto the bed and placed her head in her hands. James grinned as he got up to go spin the record. 

“Then why do you still have the record?” He challenged, bobbing his head.

She shot him an unserious glare as he began to sing along to the first track, loudly and off-key. “Oh my god , stop! Mum, he's gonna make me go deaf!” She tried not to laugh, covering her ears and shaking her head. 

“Jamie, darling, your singing is fine.” Euphemia poked her head into the room and caught Jamila’s eye. “Let him be, he’s just excited.” James was dancing and singing delightedly. Jamila was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling in fond resignation. Fleamont appeared behind his wife and chuckled at the sight. 

“I’m excited too but you don’t see me going about ruining his day!” She groaned.

“Don’t be dramatic. James, your singing never was the best. Leave that stuff to Jam.” He playfully chastised James, coming to Jamila’s rescue. She grinned at her father as James stuck his tongue out and opted for mouthing the words obnoxiously into her hairbrush like it was a mic. It worked for her, at least there was one less deafening voice singing to her now.

***

Wednesday, September 1st, 1971

Jamila double-checked everything, and then triple-checked it for good measure. Their parents had taken them to Diagon Alley the day before. Her and James had been ecstatic - finally able to browse through all the shops that they had merely been allowed to press their noses up against the glass of before. Now that she had her new wand (vine wood with a unicorn hair core, 12 ¾) she hadn’t been unable to put it down since. The whole morning, she had watched James buzzing around the house like a blue-arsed-fly, pulling out knick-knacks he hadn’t given a second thought to in years.  

“James, you haven’t even thought about those playing cards since we were nine! We’re going to miss the train.” She huffed from the hallway as he whipped past her like a frisbee. She held her hands out to keep him from barrelling into her.

“ Trading cards! And I’ve been saving them! Pete said they’re practically currency at Hogwarts.” James called from under his bed as he pulled out a small box with a self-satisfied smile. 

She took one last look at her room, she’d left it a mess if she was gonna be honest with herself (adults did that, and she was practically an adult who lived away from her parents for eight months out of the year now). She took stock of every poster she’d begged her parents to buy, the little trinkets on her window sill - a duck with a hat made of stone, a box of old family heirloom jewellery her mum let her have, and a muggle camera she begged for but never touched. She glanced at the purple stain on the fluffy rug that kept her perpetually cold feet warm (James had spilled a jar of Sleekeazy all over it when they were babies) and gave one last loving touch to her record player. She knew James had secretly packed some of her records, even after her whining. They never packed the giant record player, it was far too bulky and she had far more necessary items to take with her. Like the stuffed octopus she’d had since she was born. She wondered if Hogwarts had one they could use.

She thanked Mellie as the elf levitated her trunk downstairs and followed it,  joining her parents who were waiting for them at the front door.

“James! Be down here and ready to leave in five minutes or I’ll have to levitate you out of this house myself!” Fleamont called up the stairs, throwing Jamila a wink over his shoulder. 

She stood at her mothers side and watched James practically jump from the second floor, taking the steps two at a time. The action made Euphemia tense up and Jamila could feel her winding up to scold him for being reckless.

“Sorry for the wait, dad. Sorry for the stairs, mum.” James rushed past them and out the door breathlessly, clutching the box of trading cards he’d collected over the years. Jamila watched as Euphemia sighed and shook her head with fond exasperation while Fleamont followed him out. 

“Don’t be sorry, beta , be careful.” Fleamont said, grinning like he always did when he said that phrase. He’d always been very proud of it. Jamila rolled her eyes to the heavens as Euphemia walked her to meet the boys and the trunks on the gravel drive. The twins stood in the middle, holding their parents hands. Euphemia and Fleamonth both grabbed a trunk and with a loud crack the family stood just outside King’s Cross station. Jamila breathed deeply, she never liked apparating and she was so giddy she thought she might fall over. James, on the other hand, was already bounding into the station with Euphemia trailing after him, listing off necessary things she hoped he hadn't forgotten.

“Toothbrush?”

“Yes.”

“Comb?” 

“Yes.” 

“Books?”

“Every single one of ‘em! Heavy buggers.”

“Language!”

Jamila grinned at her father who was chuckling, taking his hand as he led her inside.

“I don’t need to make sure you have everything.” Fleamont looked down at Jamila with pride. “You probably made a check-list yourself.”

“I did.” She said brightly, skipping up the steps.

“Of course you did, you’re too smart for your own good.” He mused as they approached a turnstile. She looked at it and then back at her father, then at James and Euphemia who were already barreling toward it. She gasped loudly and covered her eyes, prepared to hear them both yelling in pain or something equally disastrous. When she heard nothing but her fathers hearty, belly laugh she opened her eyes.

“Where’d they go?” 

“Platform 9 ¾.” Fleamont grinned down at her as her brow scrunched in confusion. She looked around, seeing platform 8, 9, and 10. No 9 ¾ to be seen. Then, a lightbulb lit up her brain as she looked at where her brother and mother had disappeared. 

“It’s hidden isn’t it?” She asked as the two walked toward the turnstiles. Fleamont nodded.

“My point stands, my little genius.” He laughed as he adjusted his hold on her trunk and tugged her into a running start at the turnstiles. She screwed her eyes shut, waiting to cross and she didn’t open her eyes until the din of the station reached her ears. Chattering children, fretting mothers, crying siblings and exasperated fathers surrounded them. To her direct left she saw the longest, reddest train she’d ever seen. Her eyes widened. 

“Hogwarts Express!” James beamed, showing up next to her and making her jump. 

“Hiya James! Hey, Jam. Hello mister and missus Potter.” Peter Pettigrew approached them, waving and laughing as James pulled him into a side hug.

James had been friends with Peter since he moved in down the street from the Potters in 1965. 

Jamila groaned. “It’s Jamila, Pete. You know I hate Jam. Unless it’s dad saying it.” She sighed dramatically as he pulled her into a hug as well. She hadn’t seen him in a while, his family had gone off to Italy for a month in celebration of Peter’s wizarding status. His family hadn’t had much luck in producing wizards, Peter was definitely something to celebrate.

“I like it! It’s got a good ring to it.” Peter smiled brightly. She couldn’t be bothered to roll her eyes. Though she wanted to. The short, stubby boy was too kind for his own good. She simply smiled at him and turned to her parents whose eyes were wet and pink.

“Are you crying?” Jamila asked in shock, her own eyes stinging at the idea of her parents shedding any tears. James whipped around then too, realising he had to say bye. He wrapped his arms tightly around Euphemia. He had no wetness in his eyes at all, probably too excited to go run around a castle, scarcely supervised for an entire three months until Christmas.

“No darling, just happy for you, is all.” Fleamont said as he engulfed Jamila into a tight hug. She inhaled deeply, he smelt like firewood and aftershave. Her lip quivered more when she retreated from the hug and squeezed her mother. She smelt like the freshly baked cookies in the twins trunks and jasmine. Eupehmia rubbed Jamila’s back as her shoulders shook.

“You’ll miss us that much, love?” Euphemia laughed as Jamila let her go and wiped her eyes, using her sleeve to wipe her nose. Sure, Jamila thought, but she glanced back at James who had already hugged their father and currently had Peter in a headlock. Her eyes watered even more and tears fell down her cheeks.

“I have to be alone with James for three months! He’s gonna drive me up a wall!” Jamila sobbed, causing Euphemia and Fleamont pause before they burst into loud laughter. 

“Hey!” James froze in his movements, letting a very red Peter shove himself away. 

“It’s true!” Jamila shot back, wiping her eyes furiously.

Euphemia kneeled in front of Jamila, wiping her cheeks with the pads of her thumbs. “No more rowing now.” Euphemia said as her giggles subsided. Nobody ever took Jamila seriously. What was she gonna do?! What, with James being the one who always made friends first, she probably wouldn’t have anybody at all! She pouted at Euphemia. “You two love each other so much, I see it everyday. Perhaps James will use this as an excuse to mature a little.” Euphemia adjusted the collar of Jamila’s coat, patting it flat.

Jamila watched as James rolled his eyes and disappeared onto the train with Peter after waving goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew, who were holding handkerchiefs to their faces. 

“No more tears, James will surely share his friends with you. And you, my darling girl, will make plenty of your own friends. I know it.” Fleamont smiled as he kneeled alongside Euphemia with a solid hand on Jamilas shoulder. Jamila took a shaky breath and nodded once again, feeling silly and kind of guilty for her outburst as she looked around at all the happy faces around her. She took her trunk and straightened her back, feeling a bit more confident with the help of her fathers kind words. 

“Okay. I’m going now.” She nodded curtly to her parents, feeling much more adult. “I love you.” She added quickly.

“We love you too, both of you. Tell your brother for us, yeah? He’s run off.” Fleamont grinned down, ruffling Jamila’s hair. She smiled and nodded before turning on her heels to rush to the train. She gasped loudly when she collided with a black skirt. Her wide eyes looked up at the looming figure looking down at her and then to the skinny, pale boy with long black hair next to her. He was about her age, and hiding behind him, she saw another head of shorter black hair peeking out from behind him. A younger brother perhaps. 

“So sorry-” She began, looking back up at the stern, narrow featured woman scowling down at her. 

“Walburga.” Her mother’s voice rang out from behind her as she placed a hand on Jamila’s shoulder. Jamila looked between the two women but the lady in black was still glaring down at Jamila.

“Euphemia. Mind your daughter, she seems to lack spatial awareness. Such a shame.” The scary woman, Walburga, said dismissively, not even bothering to actually look at Euphemia. She had her nose tipped up into the air as she looked down at Jamila like an evil villain from a muggle cartoon and she felt her mothers hand on her shoulder tense up. 

Jamila looked at the boy in front of her as Walburga finally regarded Euphemia, he looked a lot like his mother but he lacked the coldness. She gave him a half smile and surprisingly he cracked a half smile back at her.

Euphemia took a deep breath and squeezed Jamila’s shoulder. “Off you pop, love. Don’t mind it.” She said protectively. Jamila simply nodded, removing her gaze from the boy and rushed onto the train and stayed extra mindful of her surroundings and any more evil villains she might bump into on the way. As she rushed up the steps she made her way down the train car in search of her brother and Peter. She finally found them in a compartment with another boy she didn't know. He had short fluffy hair that stuck out in all directions and he wore shabbier clothes than Jamila was used to seeing. He looked quiet and a bit rough around the edges. She tried to shoot him a smile but his eyes were glued to the window. James stood and helped her place her trunk above-head and she smiled, sitting down across from Peter. 

“What took you so long?” Peter asked as James struggled with her trunk. She stood up and did it for him. Bless his heart, at least he tried. 

“Ran into a literal villain, the sight of her alone was the stuff of nightmares.” Jamila laughed and James and Peter both regarded her with wide eyes. “She was tall, her cheekbones stuck out so far, her skin a ghastly shade of white, and her voice made me so uncomfortable. Mum didn’t seem to like her-” Her story was cut short by the door opening to reveal the dark haired boy from before. Jamila stopped her story short, looking at the boys who smiled politely at him. His grey eyes scanned the compartment until they landed on her and he seemed to speak to her directly.

“Can I sit here?” He asked her, likely because she had smiled at him earlier. She nodded. He returned the nod and kept his trunk neatly beside Peter’s. It was a solid dark wood and had a snake carved onto it, she noted as he sat down across from James, next to her. “I’m Sirius Black.” He spoke politely and had a strange hint of a foreign accent that mingled into his posh tone. 

“That your real name?” James asked with a grin. Jamila shot him a look that said ‘be nice’ and his smile dropped fractionally, Sirius didn’t even seem to mind. “I mean, er, I’m James Potter. That’s my twin sister Jamila. Potter of course.” James gestured to Peter. “This is Pete.. Peter Pettigrew. And that… Well, we don’t really know his name. But he seems nice.” James smiled brightly. Sirius nodded.

“Potters? My mum’ll lose her head if she finds out I’m sat with you.” Sirius smiled brightly, his grey eyes shining. What a strange reaction to pissing off your mum, Jamila thought, but then again his mum seemed like a very mean woman. Jamila smiled too. “What’s your name, then?” Sirius nudged the quiet boy with his foot. Jamila’s eyes widened at his boldness but she kept her kind face on. The boy's head snapped to Sirius but when he noticed all of them smiling at him, he softened almost imperceptibly.

“Remus John Lupin.” He said quietly, looking between the four staring at him with wide smiles.

“Well nice to meet you Remus and Sirius, I’ve a feeling this is gonna be a good bloody year!” James said. Jamila rolled her eyes.

“ Language. ” She pestered him, just like their mum always did. Wasn’t leaving for Hogwarts supposed to mature a kid? 

“Don’t mind her, she's a right downer sometimes.” James teased Jamila, kicking her foot only for her to kick his shin twice as hard. He winced and it caused the other boys to laugh.

“She’s actually quite cool, you’ll all see.” Peter chimed in.

“Yeah, cheers, Pete.” She shook her head, relieved for the awkward air in the compartment having disappeared. She leaned back in her seat as James began to show off his trading cards that were sat next to him. It turned out Remus was a half-blood, this delighted Sirius for some reason, and he didn’t know much about anything magic related. His eyes had nearly popped from his head seeing Dumbledore move around in his card. At this new information, Sirius jumped from his seat to go buy ‘every snack on the trolley’ for Remus to try. 

“Why’d you start acting all weird when he came in?” James asked as Sirius closed the door to find the trolley lady.

“It was his mum I bumped into. Didn’t know he was actually cool.” She shrugged. James nodded and returned to his conversation with Peter. Jamila wasn't listening all too intently, she was quite used to tuning them out when they talked about things she had little interest in. 

Eventually, Sirius came back to the compartment, his arms and pockets laden with sweet treats Jamila was sure would give them all a stomach ache before they arrived at Hogwarts. Still she ate one of every kind, just like the rest of them, and gave her trading card to Remus, much to James’ dismay. Sirius gave his card to Remus as well, James and Peter followed suit probably out of polite obligation. She didn’t mind and seemingly neither did Remus as the other boys over-explained the people on his first ever set of cards. The five of them all laid back in their seats after eating, holding their stomachs. Peter and Remus almost looked green, Sirius looked chuffed, and James was placing his cards away safely. Jamila simply felt like maybe she wasn’t so bad at making friends