Eclipsed

A crisp spring breeze rustled the leaves of the Potters' garden, casting a dappled light across the grass. Fairy lights twinkled merrily between the trees, illuminating the small gathering celebrating James' 18th birthday.

The party was far removed from the bashes usually hosted at the Potters’. There were no hired caterers or professional bands. Instead, Mrs. Potter had baked an impressive spread of finger foods and sweets, while Mr. Potter manned the garden barbecue. Sirius, of course, had volunteered to DJ, the old family record player blasting a mix of wizarding tunes and upbeat Muggle hits.

A stark contrast to the previous year, where worry over Fleamont’s health had draped a heavy weight over his birthday, this year, a sense of joyous relief pervaded the air. Fleamont had finally recovered from his illness and was home, albeit a bit frail, but his laughter mingled with the others, a welcome symphony to James's ears.

James, ever the social butterfly, navigated the garden with practiced ease, his hand resting lightly on Lily’s arm more for intimacy than for guidance. The familiar scents of the flowering trees, the comfortable murmur of conversation – these were the things that grounded him, that brought a smile to his lips. Despite the low-key nature of the celebration, a sense of joy seemed to permeate the atmosphere. Jokes were exchanged, stories were shared, and the warmth of friendship filled the air.

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, they brought the party inside, and Effie approached James, with Fleamont close behind.

"Happy birthday, James, dear," she said, her voice soft. "We never got to give you your birthday present last year. This…" she gestured to the box, "is for both years."

James's heart skipped a beat. He'd all but forgotten about the birthday present that had been put on hold due to his father's illness. He felt a small, velvet box placed in his hands. Carefully, he opened it, his fingers tracing the smooth contours of the object nestled within. It was a watch, just as he'd expected. Wizard tradition dictated a watch for a 17th birthday, a symbol of coming of age and the responsibility that came with wielding magic. Now, on his 18th birthday, he'd finally received it. 

"It belonged to my father, and since I had no brothers or older sisters, I get to pass this on to you" Effie began, her voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "He passed away when I was very young, and my mother didn’t like to talk about him, so I never knew much about his life, or who he was. But when I started asking around for the watch, I learned something interesting."

James' curiosity piqued. 

"Apparently," she continued, "your grandfather was also blind. I didn't remember that about him, but an aunt reminded me when I reached out to her to find it."

James's breath hitched in his throat. A strange sense of kinship bloomed within him, a connection across time with a man he’d never meet.

Effie took the watch out of the box and pushed it open, revealing the watch face. It was adorned with raised symbols and markings, their intricate patterns sending a tremor of curiosity through him.

"Whoa," James whispered, his fingers tracing the unfamiliar shapes. He pushed his glasses up over his eyebrows and brought the watch very close to his face, squinting so that he could make out a bit of how it looked as well. 

Hesitantly, he reached out and traced the raised markings on the watch face. His fingers danced over the tiny lines and dots, a strange sense of understanding washing over him.

“I’m sure you will figure out how to read it quickly, darling; I know Felicity will have you telling the time in… well, in no time at all!” 

A lump formed in his throat, and for a moment, he struggled to find his voice. "Thank you, Mum," he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion. "This is… incredible."

He carefully closed the box, the cool metal sending a shiver down his spine. It was more than just a way to tell time; it was a symbol of heritage, a reminder of the strength and resilience that ran in his blood.

The guests began to trickle home after that, either through the Floo, or by Knight bus, and the older Potters headed to bed. Silence settled over the house like a soft blanket, a welcome contrast to the lively buzz of the party. James, still buzzing from the evening's festivities, sat by the fireplace, the dying embers casting a warm orange glow on his face. 

Sirius, ever the night owl, sprawled on the rug opposite him, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Well, birthday boy," he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, "quite the bash, wasn't it?"

James let out a contented sigh. "The best one yet, I’d say" he admitted, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Having everyone over, the food, the… Well, everything. It felt like a proper celebration, you know?"

A flicker of seriousness crossed Sirius's face. "It did, Prongs. And you deserve it after all that rubbish last year, and over Christmas."

James nodded, a pang of worry tugging at his heart. "Speaking of rubbish," James began hesitantly, "how's Dad looking? Really?"

Sirius knew James couldn't see the subtle changes in his father's appearance, the way his once vibrant eyes seemed a little duller, the lines etched deeper on his face. He couldn't lie to his friend. "Older, Prongs," Sirius admitted softly. "And tired. But honestly, so is Mum."

James' heart constricted. "Oh," he mumbled, the single word heavy with unspoken emotions. He knew his parents weren't young anymore, but the weight of responsibility, the recent scare with his dad's health, it had all taken a toll on them. A wave of helplessness washed over him.

"Do you think…" he began, his voice trailing off, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air.

Sirius, sensing his friend's unspoken fear, squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Look, Prongs," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "They're strong people, your parents. They've faced worse. Plus, what is it you always tell me? Stop worrying so much.” 

James let out a humorless chuckle. Sirius was right, of course. His constant worrying wouldn't solve anything. "You're right," James conceded, “less worrying, more mischief, right?” 

A wide grin spread across Sirius's face. "Now that's the James Potter I know!" he exclaimed, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Besides, you've got way more important things to focus on than your mum growing a few more wrinkles… like maybe a certain redhead, who your mum seemed to be getting along with rather well this evening?” 

James playfully shoved him, a blush creeping up his neck. "Alright, alright," he muttered, the familiar banter washing away the lingering worry. "But first, lessons. You're on watch duty, Padfoot. Teach me how to tell time with this thing."

As Sirius, who fully did not know how the watch worked, launched into a mock explanation of the watch's intricate markings, laughter once again filled the room. The fire crackled merrily, casting flickering shadows on the walls. For James, the future stretched out before him, and he was excited to know where it would take him. 

April had arrived at Hogwarts, painting the castle grounds with blooming wildflowers and newly sprouted leaves. A subtle tension crackled beneath the surface though, especially amongst the seventh years. Gone were the carefree days of pranks and detentions; a sense of urgency hung in the air. N.E.W.T.s loomed, and job forms, internship requests, and graduate program applications were exchanged, scrutinized, and submitted by the seventh years .

James felt increasingly lost amidst the whirlwind of career planning. The mountain of applications for the esteemed legal programs loomed over him, each form a labyrinth of legalese and bureaucratic hurdles. His near-blindness, which he’d grown more accustomed to at this point, now felt like a larger obstacle to overcome. Completing the applications, designed for sighted individuals, took him an agonizingly long time, his reliance on Remus and Lily’s patient descriptions and Sirius's exasperated readings testing the limits of their friendship. Adding to his anxieties were the ever-present responsibilities of being Head Boy. Juggling prefect meetings, student disputes, and overseeing school functions, along with the need to appear as though he had it together all the time was simply exhausting. He tried to carve out time with Lily too, sneaking away to the Room of Requirement for some time alone together whenever possible, but those moments seemed to be slipping further and further out of reach.

Peter, ever the diligent student, seemed oblivious to the rising tension. Nose buried in hefty Herbology tomes, he spent his free hours tending to his flourishing greenhouse plants, meticulously documenting their growth patterns for his internship applications. Although he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to do yet, he knew it had something to do with plants, and so he did his best to show how much he knew, and hoped that it would be enough for someone to accept him somewhere. 

Sirius, too, appeared unfazed by the career frenzy. However, his nonchalant facade masked a dedicated work ethic. The lengthy application process for a prestigious apprenticeship at St. Mungo's Hospital proved to be a bureaucratic nightmare, demanding detailed essays, glowing recommendations, and a near-encyclopedic knowledge of magical ailments. Sirius, surprisingly focused, spent hours hunched over the library tables, his brow furrowed in concentration as he meticulously crafted his answers, and could hardly be pulled away, his hyper-focus seeming to take over every aspect of his life. Obtaining that coveted recommendation was proving to be the biggest hurdle. Sirius, with his reputation for rule-breaking and general mischief, as well as his dangerously addictive personality, wasn't exactly the model student St. Mungo's was looking for, however his two years volunteering in the Hospital Wing hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Madame Pomfrey, with a sigh and a twinkle in her eye, penned him a glowing recommendation, one that he hoped would cinch him one of the limited spots in the program. 

Somehow, amidst this whirlwind of applications and career ambitions, Remus remained an island of quiet solitude. While his friends buzzed with nervous energy, he seemed to withdraw further into himself. The telltale signs – shorter conversations, a vacant look in his eyes, the ever-present weariness – were there, but in the chaos of their own pursuits, it went nearly overlooked. 

Aside from Sirius, James and Remus spent the most time together, as they shared nearly every class, and although he couldn’t see the changes in his friend, James certainly felt them. The monotonous drone of Professor Binns' lecture on goblin rebellions echoed in James' ears as the bell finally rang, signaling the end of History of Magic. Relief washed over him, a welcome respite from the endless dates and goblin uprisings that seemed to blur together in a monotonous haze. 

In the walk from the classroom back to the tower, James navigated the crowded corridors with Remus by his side, relying on his friend's quiet guidance to avoid stray elbows and overflowing book bags. They finally stepped through the portrait hole and up the stairs to their dorm, where the silence in the room confirmed that they were pretty much alone. James cleared his throat, unsure how to start the conversation he'd been putting off. 

"Alright, mate," he began, his voice gentle. "History of Magic puts anyone to sleep, but you seem a bit… drained. Everything alright?"

Remus, startled out of his reverie, blinked rapidly. "Oh, yeah, Prongs," he replied, his voice a touch too bright. "Just a bit tired, that's all. Moon coming up, you know."

James thought there was more than two weeks until the next moon, but that on top of the stress Remus was probably under with his own set of applications as well was surely the cause of his friend’s withdrawn attitude lately. 

"Don't worry about me, Prongs," Remus said, a touch of reassurance in his voice. "Just need to catch up on some sleep, that's all."

Suddenly, a nagging feeling, like a pebble caught in his shoe, began to irritate him. 

"So," James began, clearing his throat, "Any ideas for your post-graduation plans? You haven't mentioned anything about what applications you're submitting."

Remus hesitated for a beat, then offered another weak laugh. "Just so many… you know?” James smirked. “I’m trying to cast as wide of a net as possible.” 

“Yeah, tell me about it," he said, launching into a detailed account of the legal program applications. He poured out his frustrations about the tedious process, the overwhelming amount of paperwork, and the constant nagging feeling that he wouldn't succeed despite his best efforts.

Remus listened patiently, offering words of encouragement and even a few helpful suggestions for navigating the application process. As they reached their room, James felt a surge of relief. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and hearing that Remus’ exhaustion was of a similar nature had been a relief. 

“I think I’m gonna work on some… work in the common room,” Remus suddenly said, leaving James at the door. “I’ll see you later Prongs, alright?” 

James nodded. “See you later Moony. Thanks for the advice.” 

Remus reached out, and squeezed his arm. “Anytime.” Remus turned and walked slowly down the stairs.

James didn’t know why, but his heart constricted, sinking painfully in his chest as Remus got further and further away.