Eclipsed

As the morning wore on, Remus, Lily, and Peter reluctantly excused themselves from the hospital wing, as they had classes to attend. 

"I'm skipping," Sirius announced, his gaze never leaving James's still form on the bed. "I'm staying with him."

No one argued with Sirius's decision. Remus gave him a big hug, and gave another one to Effie before he left, and Lily gave Sirius a shoulder squeeze as she passed him by. 

Once they’d left, Sirius offered Effie the seat next to James's bed, and she accepted with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Sirius," she said softly, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "For everything."

Sirius nodded, his expression serious. "I'm here for as long as you need me, Effie."

Effie sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. "I wish I could stay longer, but I have to head back to St. Mungo's soon.” She shook her head, looking down at the floor. “Fleamont has not been well, as you know," she confessed, her voice thick with emotion. "But... but he's getting better now."

Sirius' worry began to ease. "He’s going to be okay then?" he asked.

Effie nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Yes," she replied softly, her voice tinged with relief. "He's on the mend."

Sirius let out a sigh of relief, the weight of worry lifting from his shoulders. "That's good to hear," he murmured, and leaned against the bed, back of his thighs resting on the metal bed frame.

“Promise me you’ll owl me right away, if anything changes,” Effie said, looking up at him urgently. “I don’t know if I can trust them to keep me informed if anything happens."

Sirius's grip on her hand tightened reassuringly. "You have my word, Effie. I'll let you know right away if anything changes."

Effie nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Sirius. I know why they thought it would be good to wait… but it wasn’t right."

Just then, James stirred awake, feeling the heaviness in his limbs gradually lift, the fog of potions slowly dissipating. Effie sat beside him, her eyes tired but filled with concern as she watched him wake.

"Hi, love," she greeted softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

“Mum,” James winced slightly, the headache that had been lurking in the background now asserting itself more prominently. "Headache," he mumbled, his voice hoarse from sleep. "And my eyes... hurts. Can’t open them."

Effie's brow furrowed with worry. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said gently, her hand moving to cup his cheek. "Just keep them closed for now, alright?" After another moment, Effie took a deep inhale. "Jamie, love, do you remember what happened?"

James nodded slowly, the memories of the previous night flooding back. "I was in the corridor... and some-some Slytherins... they attacked me," he recounted, his voice trembling slightly.

As James struggled to gather his thoughts, the memories of the attack felt disjointed, like pieces of a puzzle that refused to fit together. Effie put her hand in his, and James wrapped his fingers around hers.

"I was... walking back to the common room," he began slowly, his voice faltering as he tried to piece together the fragments of memory. "And then... they were there. Slytherins."

Effie's grip tightened on his hand, her eyes filled with concern as she listened intently.

"They... they were saying things," James continued, his brow furrowing in frustration as he struggled to recall the exact words. "I couldn't really see them, but I think I recognized some of their voices." 

Sirius's jaw clenched with anger, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Those bloody bastards," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

Effie shot Sirius a warning glance. "Sirius, please," she said softly, her tone gentle but firm. “Not right now.” 

Sirius took a deep breath, visibly struggling to rein in his emotions. "Sorry," he mumbled, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"They... they hexed me," James continued, his voice growing more strained as he recounted the events of the previous night. "I couldn't move... couldn't see... I was just... helpless."

Effie's heart ached at James's words, her own frustration bubbling to the surface. "James, why were you out alone, love?" she asked softly, her voice thick with emotion. "You know that you shouldn’t have been out late alone."

James nodded, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I was… I just fell asleep in the library, and it was late and I didn’t want to miss curfew... I didn't know what to do," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I was going to... I thought..."

Effie's grip tightened on his hand. "I'm so sorry, darling. It’s okay, it's going to be alright, just… just focus on getting better," she answered, not wanting to think of what could’ve happened. Sirius sat down again, on the edge of the bed, willing himself to relax, for James’ sake. 

James took a deep breath, recentering himself as well. "What now?" he asked, finding his mother’s wedding rings and fiddling with them. 

Effie hesitated for a moment, exchanging a glance with Sirius, before replying. "Well, you've been treated for your injuries, but they’ll be monitoring your recovery closely," she explained, her tone carefully neutral.

James frowned, sensing that there was more to the story than Effie was letting on. "What does that mean, exactly?" he pressed.

Sirius stepped in, his voice calm but firm. "It means they're giving your body time to heal, James," he said, his hand resting reassuringly on James's calf through the blanket.

James nodded, though he couldn't shake the feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. "Okay," he murmured, resigned to the discomfort.

Effie leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You're going to be okay, James," she whispered, her voice filled with love and reassurance. “Just… try and rest.” 

“I’ve been resting all day,” James protested, but allowed his body to relax and to take in Effie's warmth and comfort, grateful for her presence and for Sirius’, missing his dad, and hoping that when he woke up, things would be back to normal. 

“Sirius, darling,” Effie’s voice cut through his anxious pacing. “It’s getting a bit late. Why don’t you go and get us some lunch? I know you and James are constantly in the kitchens; I’m sure the elves would be happy to fix us up some nice sandwiches. What do you say?” 

Sirius looked over at her, sat on the edge of the chair with James’ hand in hers as he slept. Although he didn’t want to go, he was afraid to leave them alone, he nodded, and slipped out from between the curtains, and distracted, turned and smacked right into someone. 

“Regulus!” His younger brother looked up, appearing slightly healthier than the last time they had seen each other up close but still with an air of fatigue about him. "What are you doing here again?"

Regulus glanced away, avoiding eye contact. Before he could respond, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office, a look of mild panic on her face as she saw the younger Black brother. "Oh, Regulus, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot..." she said hurriedly. "I'll just be a moment." She disappeared back into her office.

Sirius seized the opportunity to press his brother. "What’s going on, Reg? Why are you here?"

Regulus shifted uncomfortably, clearly not inclined to share. "It's nothing, just picking something up… for a friend.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, not buying it. "Picking something up for a friend? Nice try, Reg." 

Pomfrey came out of her office, handing Regulus a paper bag, clinking with the sound of potions vials. 

Sirius wasn’t ready to let it go. "What kind of potions are those?"

Regulus remained silent, clutching the paper bag.

Madam Pomfrey, flustered, tried to calm the situation. "Sirius, please–” 

"Why won't you just tell me what's wrong?" he demanded, his voice growing louder.

Regulus's face darkened. "It's none of your business, Sirius. Why don’t you worry about your new brother instead? I heard he had quite the night."

The tension escalated quickly, both brothers bristling with the threat of a fight. 

Effie, who had been listening to the escalation from James’ bedside, quickly intervened. "Sirius, that's enough," she said firmly but gently, coming out from behind the curtain and placing hands on his shoulders from behind. "Let's not do this here." 

As Pomfrey asked Regulus to follow her into the office, Effie steered Sirius towards the doors. 

"Remember you were getting us some lunch, love? I know you're not hungry, but we need to eat too, and I’m sure you know just what to ask the elves for, right?” 

Sirius hesitated, his eyes still locked on Regulus, but finally nodded. As he walked away, his anger and frustration bubbled over. Instead of heading to the kitchens, he found himself at the entrance to the Room of Requirement. He paced back and forth, knowing what he thought he needed, and the door appeared.

Stepping inside, he found himself in a familiar yet haunting setting. The room had transformed into a cellar, reminiscent of the one he’d spent hours trapped in inside Grimmauld Place. Dusty shelves lined the walls, filled with old bottles of wine, and an old blanket was draped on the floor in the corner. The dim light from the single, dusty bulb cast an eerie glow over the space, and Sirius hesitated for a moment, memories flooding back. His urges pushed him forward, though, and he grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf, settling down to the floor and wrapping the blanket around himself. He pointed his wand at the bottle, and the wine's cork popped with a familiar sound. He took a long sip, the wine's warmth spreading through him, temporarily dulling the edge of his anger. The cellar's quietness, the smell of aged wood and wine, and the blanket wrapped around him all brought forward the vulnerability he’d been doing his best to run away from. 

He thought of Regulus, their childhood together, the rift that had grown between them, and his brother’s childhood, full of illnesses and exhaustion, swirled inside his head. He thought of James, lying in the hospital wing, and the helplessness he felt at having failed to protect him the night before. He thought of Remus, who needed him to take care of him all the time, and Peter, who needed someone to look to when he was afraid. 

The wine, the blanket, the room—it all felt like a cocoon where he could be afraid, even if just for a little while. He took another sip of wine, the bitter taste mingling with the salt of his tears, and closed his eyes. He wasn't the strong, rebellious Marauder or the protective older brother. He was just a young man, grappling with too many fears, and a world that often felt too heavy. 

He tried to think about what the mind healer had said to him over the summer, about giving himself grace, and finding someone to talk to when he had the urges to drink, to blow things up for himself, to do things he knew were wrong… but when the person he needed to be there for him was hurt? There was no “coping mechanism” that would make him feel better now.

As James stirred awake, the world around him seemed dark and distorted. He struggled to  blink, wincing as a sharp pang of pain shot through his temples, and his eyes burned as they opened, so he let them fall shut again.

"Mum?" he murmured, his voice barely audible in the dimly lit room. 

Effie's hand closed around his own, her touch a familiar anchor in the disorienting darkness. "Hold on just a second, James," she said gently, her voice tinged with concern.

She let go of his hand, and returned a few moments later, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall following closely behind her. 

Madam Pomfrey approached, her footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. "Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?" she inquired, her tone laced with genuine concern.

James swallowed back the wave of discomfort that threatened to engulf him. “Not great,” he answered honestly, both unable and unwilling to put on a brave face. “Just… err… a lot of pain.” 

Effie exchanged a worried glance with Madam Pomfrey, who nodded in understanding as she assessed James's condition. "I'll fetch something to help with that," she said briskly, disappearing momentarily into her office.

"James," McGonagall began, her voice gentle but firm. "We need to have a conversation about what happened last night. I need you to tell us exactly what happened."

James nodded, his stomach churning with apprehension as he prepared to recount the events of the previous evening.

Before he could answer, though, Pomfrey reappeared, a vial of potion in hand. "This should help alleviate some of that headache, and hopefully some of the swelling," she explained, guiding the potion into James’ hands and uncorking it with practiced efficiency.

With McGonagall's quill poised over a parchment, James began to speak, his words measured and precise as he attempted to recall exactly what had happened, who had been there, and what spells had been cast. Although he was embarrassed that he’d been so easily targeted, out all alone, 

As the soothing liquid began to take effect, James felt a slight easing of the tension in his temples, though he didn’t dare try and open his eyes again, as even the dim light in the room felt like it would be too much for him to handle. 

As he finished speaking, McGonagall transcribed his account with meticulous care, her expression growing increasingly solemn with each passing moment. 

"Thank you, James," she said quietly, her voice tight in her throat. "I will speak to Professor Slughorn about further punishments for any students involved in this despicable act.” 

McGonagall's lips tightened into a thin line, her expression reflecting the weight of the situation. “Without concrete evidence or other eyewitness accounts, though, it may be difficult to prove the identity of the perpetrators, despite us taking James at his word. We aren’t allowed to use veritasium in a school setting, so getting students to admit to doing this will be very hard, especially given the families that these students come from."

Effie's shoulders sagged with defeat, her frustration giving way to resignation. "I just… I know there are rivalries at school, but this seems like… something else, Minerva," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

James listened to the rest of their conversation in silence, the exhaustion weighing heavily upon him. Though part of him wanted to feel angry or indignant, he found himself strangely numb to it all, as if the events of the previous night had drained him of all emotion.

Effie's distress tugged at his heartstrings, but he couldn't find the energy to muster a response. Instead, he simply nodded, his gaze fixed on the dimly lit ceiling as he wrestled with his own turbulent thoughts.

McGonagall laid a comforting hand on Effie's shoulder, her expression softening with sympathy. "We'll do everything in our power to ensure justice is served, Effie," she reassured her. "But for now, our priority is James's recovery."

Effie nodded. “I know.” 

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, her expression serious. “James," she began gently, "are you feeling up to hearing some… hard things right now?” 

James nodded solemnly, his heart sinking at her words. He braced himself for what was to come, his stomach twisting. Effie’s hand grasped his again, more firmly than before. 

“What happened last night... it's left some considerable damage to your eyes," she said. James squeezed his mom’s hand back. 

"Conjunctivitis curses can cause significant irritation and inflammation," Madam Pomfrey continued, her tone measured. "In your case, the damage appears to be more severe due to the exposure to the curse coupled with your choroideremia."

James listened in silence as she outlined the extent of the damage, his mind reeling with the implications. The thought of his already compromised vision deteriorating even further filled him with a sense of dread.

“We have some hope that once everything is healed up, things might not be as damaged as it looks now, but until then, we don’t really know.” 

Madam Pomfrey paused, her gaze searching his face for any sign of understanding. "James, do you have any questions?" she asked gently.

He shook his head wordlessly, his throat tight with emotion. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon him, rendering him speechless.

Effie's voice broke the heavy silence, her tone gentle yet filled with concern. "James, sweetheart, did you understand everything Madam Pomfrey explained?"

He nodded slowly, and Effie, Pomfrey, and McGonagall looked at each other, unsure how to take this response. 

“Alright, darling. That’s good.” Effie reassured him, smoothing down his hair as she did when he was a child. With a glance, she indicated to the other two women that they could leave, and they nodded in understanding. 

“I’ll be back later, James,” Madam Pomfrey said quietly, and she and McGonagall said their goodbyes. 

The sun was going down. Effie stood by James's bed, her face lined with worry. She glanced at the door, then back at James, her fingers nervously tapping against her leg.

"Sirius didn't come back," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. "I'm worried about him."

James reached out, his hand finding hers. "Mum, I'm sure he’s fine.” He sighed. “You should go check on Dad."

Effie hesitated, her eyes filled with concern. "I don't want to leave you alone, here, James.” 

James gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be fine, Mum. If Dad isn't feeling well, he needs you more right now. I promise I'll be okay."

Effie leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Alright, darling. I'll be back as soon as I can. Just rest, okay?"

James nodded, watching as she reluctantly gathered her things and left the room. The curtains swung behind her, and aside from her shoes clicking as she headed to Pomfrey’s office, the hospital wing fell into an eerie quiet. For the first time since the attack, James was truly alone.

The silence pressed in on him, amplifying his thoughts and fears. He tried to push them away, focusing on the rhythmic sound of his breathing, but it was no use. The events of the previous night played on a loop in his mind: the taunting voices, the searing pain in his eyes, the helplessness as he lay on the cold floor, unable to move.

He pried his eyes open as far as he could and stared at the ceiling, the dim light making his eyes ache and the cloudiness in his vision making him so dizzy with panic he had to close then again. His chest tightened and felt tears begin to slip down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away.

For the first time since the attack, James let himself cry. The sobs came slowly at first, then harder, each one wracking his body as he finally allowed himself to absorb the full weight of what had happened. He cried for the pain, the fear, and the uncertainty of his recovery. He cried for the lost sense of safety and for the anger that simmered beneath the surface.

The hospital wing's quiet seemed to hold his grief, cradling it in a way that felt almost comforting. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, crying, but eventually, the sobs began to slow, leaving him feeling drained but a little bit lighter.

He had no idea what time it was, but he was hungry. He didn’t want to ask Pomfrey for anything; he didn’t want to talk to anyone, or think about anything though, so he resigned himself to laying there, hungry, until whenever the next meal was. The room was dim and quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional rustle of bed sheets as he tried to get comfortable. He was just beginning to drift into an uneasy sleep when the sound of heavy footsteps clomped through the wing, and the curtains around his bed rustled.

“Effie?” a voice said, and James cleared his throat. 

"Sirius?" James called out, his voice hoarse from crying.

"Hey, Prongsie," he answered slightly slurred. "Brought Effie a sandwich from the kitchen. Lost track of time, I guess, I thought she would still be here."

James sighed, a mix of disappointment and relief washing over him. "Sirius, are you drunk?" he asked, and from the hesitation of the response, his answer was obvious. 

"You know Remus won’t be happy, right?" James said softly. "He worries about you. Mum was worried about you too."

Sirius whined somewhere in the back of his throat. "I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered, squeezing the sandwich in his hands. "But I just..."

“It’s ok, Padfoot.” James didn’t want to think about it anymore. “Can I have that sandwich though?” 

Sirius unwrapped the sandwich and placed it in James’ hands. They sat in silence for a bit, before Sirius sniffed. 

“This is really fucked up.”

 "I know," James replied after swallowing. “Not sure what’s gonna happen now.” 

Sirius inhaled, then hesitated. "Can I climb into bed with you?" he asked, his voice almost childlike in its vulnerability.

James nodded, handing him the sandwich before scooting over to make room. "Sure, mate," he said, patting the space beside him. Sirius grinned, and the alcohol made his movements clumsy as he clambered into the bed. He settled beside James, the two of them lying with their heads close together. “You smell like wine, Pads. Not even the good stuff.” 

“Sorry.” Sirius murmured, already drifting off to sleep. 

Within minutes, Sirius was asleep, his breathing steady and even. James listened to the sound, finding comfort in it, and grateful for his presence, drunk or not.