Eclipsed

James had always loved the thrill of Quidditch and the challenge of Transfiguration, but a couple of weeks into the school year, he found himself captivated by a new elective he’d been recommended to take by McGonagall to get him on track for a career in magical law or politics: The Ethics of Magic. The class, taught by the insightful and thought-provoking Professor Altman, delved into the moral complexities of magical practices and their implications for both the wizarding and Muggle worlds.

James wasn't the only one intrigued by the course. Remus was in the class as well, along with a handful of other students in their year; Dorcas Meadows, Otto Bagman, and Amelia Bones were some of the other students enrolled in the N.E.W.T. level course. However, one person in particular seemed less than thrilled, despite her usual academic enthusiasm: Lily Evans.

It wasn't that Lily disliked the class. On the contrary, she was deeply invested in the material. But when Professor Altman announced a partnered project and paired her with James, her enthusiasm quickly soured.

"Professor Altman, may I have a word?" Lily asked, approaching the professor’s desk as the class began to disperse after the announcement.

Professor Altman, a tall, sharp-eyed witch with an aura of intellectual rigor, nodded. "Of course, Miss Evans. What is it?"

Lily shot a quick, apprehensive glance at James before continuing. "I was wondering if it might be possible to switch partners for the project. I think it would be more productive for both James and me if we worked with different people."

James, who had been packing up his things, froze and looked over. He couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance, but he kept his expression neutral.

Professor Altman shook her head gently, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "I'm afraid not, Miss Evans. Part of this assignment is to challenge you to work with others, even those you might not normally choose. I have every confidence in both of your abilities to collaborate effectively."

Lily's shoulders slumped slightly, but she nodded. "Understood, Professor."

As she quickly left the classroom, James stuffed the rest of his books into his bag and jogged to catch up to her. "Look, Evans," he began, his tone more placating than it usually would be after being put in a somewhat uncomfortable situation, "I know you’re not thrilled about us working together, but we might as well make the best of it. How about we meet in the library tomorrow after dinner?"

Lily sighed, but her green eyes met his with a resigned determination. "Fine. Let’s just get it done."

The following evening, James made his way to the library, his mind buzzing with ideas for their project on the ethical implications of memory modification. He found Lily already there, surrounded by a stack of books, her brows furrowed in concentration.

"Hey," he said, sliding into the seat across from her. "I did some thinking about our topic. What if we focused on the use of Obliviate in criminal justice? Like, when it's justified and when it's not?"

Lily looked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "That's... actually a good idea, Potter. I was thinking along similar lines, but more about its use on Muggles."

James grinned, relieved to find common ground. "Great. We can combine both angles—how it's used in the wizarding world and its impact on Muggles."

Lily nodded, her fingers tapping lightly on the cover of one of the books. "Right. We could look at case studies where Obliviate was used on criminals to erase specific memories. Compare that to cases where it's been used on Muggles to cover up magical accidents."

James leaned forward, his excitement growing. "Exactly. And we can explore the ethical dilemmas that arise from each situation. Like, is it ever truly justifiable to erase someone's memories, even if it’s for the greater good?"

Lily’s eyes lit up with interest. "And what about the long-term psychological effects? We could look at any research or records on how memory modification impacts people over time."

"Perfect," James agreed, scribbling down notes. "We should also consider the different perspectives—how the magical community views it versus the potential views of Muggles if they ever found out."

They spent the next hour engrossed in their work, the usual tension between them gradually easing as they discussed and debated their ideas. As they continued to delve into their project, Lily paused, looking at James thoughtfully. "I have to ask, Potter, why are you even in this class? It doesn't seem like your usual kind of thing."

James leaned back in his chair, his expression becoming more serious. "Well, I think I want to work in magical law, actually. It was McGonagall’s idea, honestly, but the more I think about it, the more it sounds like the right thing to do. There are so many groups that don’t get a say in the Wizengamot, and I want to change that, if I can, or at the very least, be able to speak on their behalf."

Lily blinked, clearly taken aback. "I didn't expect that. It's... admirable, really."

James smiled, a bit shyly. "Thanks. What about you, Evans? What made you take this class?"

Lily's eyes glistened as she considered her response. "I want to do potions research. There's so much potential for good, but also a lot of danger. I want to make sure that potions that are actively harmful can't be easily reproduced or patented."

James nodded, impressed. "That's true- I never thought about that before. I think you’re definitely the right witch for the job, then."

Lily blushed slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thanks, Potter."

They spent the next hour engrossed in their work, the usual tension between them gradually easing as they discussed and debated their ideas. As they continued working, a comfortable silence settled between them until Lily broke it with a light-hearted comment. "You know, I always thought you only cared about Quidditch."

James looked over to her, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, there's more to life than Quidditch, Evans. I know that there are real problems in the world, and if I can help, why wouldn't I?"

Lily glanced at him, caught off guard by his serious response. "You know, Potter, you're not as insufferable as I thought you'd be."

James laughed, a genuine, light-hearted sound. "Thanks, I think. You're not so bad yourself, Evans."

As they packed up their things, ready to head back to their common rooms, a familiar, unwelcome figure approached them. Snape, with his greasy hair and sullen expression, sneered as he looked between Lily and James.

"Evans," Snape drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. "I didn't think you'd stoop so low as to associate with Potter here. Thought you had better taste."

James felt a surge of anger but forced himself to stay calm. He met Snape's gaze evenly. 

"Get lost, Snape. We're just working on a project. If you have a problem with that, take it up with Professor Altman."

Snape's eyes narrowed, but before he could retort, Lily stepped forward. "Sev– Snape, just go. We're busy."

Snape hesitated, his expression flickering with a mixture of frustration and something else—hurt, perhaps. But he turned and walked away without another word.

James exhaled slowly, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. "Thanks for that, Evans."

Lily looked at him, a small smile on her lips. "You handled that pretty well too, Potter. I... I appreciate it."

James offered her a genuine smile in return. "Anytime. Are you heading back to the common room? We could walk together, if you don’t mind."

Lily hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Sure. That would be nice."

As they walked together through the darkening corridors, James couldn't help but feel a shift in their dynamic. Lily's opinion of him was changing, and for the first time, he felt like they were truly on the same side.

In mid October, James sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the letter in his hands. His mother's elegant handwriting detailed the events of the past few days: his father had fallen ill, some sort of infection, apparently, and had been taken to St. Mungo's. The news had hit James like a Bludger to the chest.

His father was okay now, his mother had written, but the mere thought of his dad in a hospital bed, vulnerable and sick, made his stomach churn. He crumpled the letter in his fist and threw it on the ground, feeling the need to do something, anything, to take his mind off of the overwhelming feeling of anxiety beginning to come over him. 

James glanced at his broomstick case propped against the wall. Flying always made everything seem better. Although it was close to curfew, and he really shouldn’t have risked flying when he could hardly see in the dark, he stood up, grabbed his broom, and headed out of the dormitory, making his way through the quiet, dimly lit castle.

He moved swiftly and quietly under his invisibility cloak, avoiding Filch and Mrs. Norris with the ease of long practice. The cool night air greeted him as he stepped onto the Quidditch pitch, the stands looming like silent sentinels in the moonlight. 

James mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground, soaring into the sky with a rush of exhilaration. The wind whipped through his hair, and for the first time since reading the letter, he felt a sense of peace. Up here, above the world, everything seemed smaller and more manageable.The familiar sensation of flight helped him navigate, despite the blurry, dark world around him.

He flew higher and faster, pushing his broom to its limits, weaving through the air with practiced grace. James felt the tension in his chest begin to loosen as he lost himself in the sheer joy of flight. Each loop, dive, and twist was a reminder of his skill and control, a stark contrast to the helplessness he felt regarding his father in the hospital, his worsening vision, and even the Death Eaters starting to take over the magical world. Up here, he could forget about the worry gnawing at his insides. 

As he flew, his thoughts began to settle. He remembered the many times his father had come to watch his Quidditch matches, cheering him on with pride. His father was a strong man, resilient and full of life. James felt a flicker of hope. If anyone could bounce back from this, it was his dad.

After what felt like hours but was probably only a short time, James began to descend. He landed softly on the grass, his mind clearer and his heart a little lighter. He used his wand to light his way, but once he reached the castle, he didn’t dare risk getting caught past curfew, so he trailed a hand along the wall and hoped for his memory to serve him all the way back to the common room. 

He reached the Gryffindor Tower and muttered the password to the Fat Lady, who opened with a sleepy grumble. As James slipped inside, padded silently past the stragglers in the common room, and made it up the stairs and into the dormitory, Sirius poked his head out from between Remus’ bed-curtains upon hearing the door creak open. 

"Couldn't sleep?" Sirius asked, his voice soft but concerned.

James sighed and sat down on the edge of his own bed, setting his broom case carefully on the floor. "Got a letter from mum today. Dad was in St. Mungo's. He's okay now, but... I needed to clear my head."

Sirius's eyes widened in shock, and carefully, he swung his legs over the side of Remus’ bed, crossing the room to sit beside James on his own. "Fuck. I’m sorry, mate."

"I was just starting to freak out, you know?" James admitted. "Flying for a bit helped, though. It always does."

Sirius looked at him, concern clear on his face. "I’m glad you’re feeling better now, James, but you could’ve asked me to come with you… Not to be that way, but you of all people shouldn’t be out flying alone at night."

James rolled his eyes, annoyed, but knowing Sirius was right. "I just needed to feel like I had control over something, you know? Everything is just happening to me, and there’s just…"

Sirius lay his head on James's shoulder. "I get it, but I just… I need you to take care of yourself too. Your dad's a tough bloke. He'll pull through."

James managed a small smile, leaning his head over his friend’s. "I know he will. It’s just... hard being here, and him there, and me not being able to do anything."

Sirius nodded. “I know. I know. Now, get some sleep. No use making yourself sick over this… Fleamont would not be pleased.” 

James nodded, feeling a sense of warmth spread through him at Sirius's words. 

Sirius gave him a reassuring pat on the back before pulling back the curtains of James' bed, and beginning to crawl through. "Just remember, your dad's a tough bloke. He'll be alright. And if you need anything, you know we’re all here for you."

James followed Sirius through the bed curtains and crawled under the covers, the weight of the day finally catching up to him. Sirius's presence nearby was a comfort, a reminder that he wasn't alone in worrying over his father. 

"Night, Sirius," James murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Night, James," Sirius replied, his voice filled with warmth.

As James closed his eyes, he felt Sirius shift closer, the warmth of his friend's body comforting against his own.