Chapter 2
Oct. 2, 1975
The vivid blue sky was muddied with clouds. Frail, wispy clouds trailing after ample puffy ones, with chalk-like streaks littering the sky around them. The sun was a blinding dot on the horizon amid them, a yellow crown of rays bordering it. James lazily flicked his wand at the leaves of the tree providing them shade, turning the oranges and browns into crimsons and golds as Sirius and Peter discussed Snape’s absence.
‘Because he is a Death Eater! Snivelly would never miss Defence,’ Sirius insisted. ‘it’s the closest he’ll ever get to an actual Dark Arts class, and there’s nothing he’d miss a Defence class for!’
‘Maybe he was sick?’ Peter said questioningly.
‘When has Snivellus ever been absent? Snivelly went to go get himself a nice new tattoo on his forearm!’
James was unusually quiet. If he was not trying to occupy his mind with something that wasn’t what happened yesterday, he would’ve backed Sirius. Right now, though, he just couldn’t agree with Sirius. Hating himself for it, he tried hard to find an instance where Snape was being a creepy git, which shouldn’t have been too hard, but the only image that came to mind was Snape’s wide, glassy eyes the moment after Lily left. James clicked his tongue in annoyance. What did the idiot expect Lily to do after he called her that word?
He tried hard to think of something else, because whenever he thought of Snivellus after yesterday, an uncomfortable heavy feeling lodges in his ribcage and refuses to leave. James’ thoughts drifted towards Remus.
Remus didn’t sit with them anymore. He had sat with James and Peter after the prank for a little while, and then he no longer sat with them at meals and spent his free time in Merlin-knows-where. Things were likely to have been more complicated after the summer holidays were over—Moony would’ve had much more time to think about everything. He had taken it hard to find out Sirius had exposed him to Dark Arts wunderkind and Death Eater in-the-making Severus Snape and was so hurt he wouldn’t talk to Sirius at all, except once to pass the saltshaker. Remus forgave Peter after taking away house points and telling him to ‘quit putting Sirius on a pedestal.’ James was fine with giving Remus some alone time, especially after what happened at the lake yesterday.
Sirius took it personally and kept asking Remus to sit with them, and each time he did Remus would refuse in a clipped tone that reminded James all too well of his Head of House. Until Sirius decided to ask him to sit with them loudly in public, in which Remus’ response was to ignore him and they had row about it later at night in the dormitory. Remus never spoke to Sirius directly after that.
‘James?’
The grin James gave Peter was a bit strained, but if he noticed he chose to ignore it.
‘You’re acting funny today.’ Peter turned to Sirius. ‘I don’t think he’s ever gone that long without messing up his hair,’ he giggled.
‘It’s called style, Wormtail. Not that you’d know anything about that,’
Sirius and Peter had gone back to their bickering. Each time Sirius gave what seemed like solid evidence, Peter would counter it and the cycle would continue.
‘But Voldemort wouldn’t employ someone so young, would he? Snape isn’t even fifteen yet,’ Peter pointed out. ‘If you were Voldemort, you wouldn’t want someone young and inexperienced,’
‘Inexperienced? Snivellus, inexperienced?’
James sighed and felt a faint pang signalling an incoming headache. He didn’t want to talk, think, or hear about Snape. Why couldn’t anyone just accept that he was absent? What was the big deal? Remus missed classes often because of… his furry little problem. He pushed himself up and dusted the back of his robes, where crunched leaf bits were probably stuck to his bottom.
‘Where’re you going?’ asked Peter, running his tongue over his braces—James recognized it as a recently developed nervous habit.
‘Hospital Wing,’ said James. ‘You two gave me a headache,’
What James actually wanted to do was find Remus. It felt like a small betrayal to Peter, who was not only an excellent listener, but provided oftentimes useful responses, and to Sirius, whom he confided in with just about anything. But both seemed to only want to talk about Snivelly. James did not. He dug into his pockets, pulling out a sweet wrapper and a sickle, and then the incomplete Marauder’s Map. He unfolded the parchment.
‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good,’ he muttered. The map started inking the parts of the castle they’d finished, along with a few names.
The Gryffindor dormitory, library, secret passageways, classrooms, most bathrooms, the portion of the grounds where the Whomping Willow was, and a small patch of the Forbidden Forest were all mapped out. There were still many places left to map, and the Forbidden Forest and the first-floor classrooms only showed people at their respective entrances, not their exact location.
He checked every nook and cranny of the library, and yet no dot with the words ‘Remus Lupin’ appeared. He checked the bathrooms, their common toom, the dormitory, and even the grounds, but no Remus. An R caught his eye, and sure enough, there was Remus, tucked away in the one-eyed witch’s passageway.
He hurried, determined to speak to Remus, only stopping to tap his wand against the statue and saying the incantation. James walked until he saw a familiar tuft of sandy-brown hair.
‘Remus?’ he called.
Remus was startled but not surprised; James often carried the Map and knew how to mask his footsteps. Remus knew James wouldn’t track him down unless there was something urgent, as James hadn’t yet stooped low enough to abuse the Map’s privileges.
James plopped down next to Remus, who had a library book in hand.
‘Hello, James.’ Remus dog-eared his book and closed it, turning towards him. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘No, er…’ James pinched the creases in his robes, a nervous habit. ‘D’you mind me sitting with you?’
Remus raised his eyebrows but shook his head. ‘Are you here to try convincing me to sit with you or are you here about Snape?’
He groaned. ‘Let’s talk about anything but Snivellus,’
‘Stop calling him that, James. You either call him Snape, or we don’t talk about him at all,’
Merlin, he hated it when Moony spoke like a prefect.
‘He wasn’t at breakfast or lunch, and hasn’t attended any of today’s classes, if the Slytherins are to be believed.’ Remus noted idly. ‘I heard them talking about him when I was on my way here,’ he shrugged, and then turned to James. Remus’ premature forehead lines were more pronounced in the dim light of his Lumos.
‘You should apologize, James.’ sighed Remus.
‘I know, and—’
‘So should Sirius and Peter too. I will also apologise.’
‘You didn’t even do anything,’
‘Yes, James. I didn’t do anything.’ Remus said, withdrawn. ‘Even though I had the authority and power to stop you.’
James pursed his lips. It was hard not to hate Snape. Snivellus Snape was a greasy git whose personality was no better than his looks, and who knew more Dark magic than the lot of the seventh years put together. Snivellus, who clung to Lily like she was his life force and who kept shooting back upwards like a weed whenever James and Sirius put him in his place. It frustrated James that he seemingly couldn’t just say what he was thinking. He never had trouble voicing his opinion on the Slytherin before.
But Remus wasn’t finished. ‘Snape is probably hiding in his dormitory, which is understandable after he was sexually assaulted—’
‘He wasn’t—’
‘Yes, he was,’ said Remus coldly. ‘If Snape was a girl, it would be different,’
‘Snape isn’t a girl. Though since he still hasn’t grown a pair, I suppose it counts—’
‘That wasn’t funny,’ Remus narrowed his eyes at James. ‘and my point still stands. Peter agrees, that’s why I told him last night and not you and Sirius, because he was more likely to agree,’
‘Yeah, well, Peter seemed to be doing a piss-poor job of it while we were, as you put it, sexually assaulting him.’
Remus looked like McGonagall whenever James and Sirius were caught pranking the first-years whenever he was angry. James decided to back down for now, since that seemed to work whenever Sirius was in a snit.
‘You’re right Remus. I guess I’ll have some apologizing to do.’ Lied James, to steer the conversation away from yesterday and Snape. But he’s Snivellus, a voice in his head whined.
Remus nodded wearily. There was an uncomfortable silence.
‘Er… about last week,’ said James.
‘Forget it,’ Remus sounded exasperated. ‘It’s highly unlikely to happen. There’ll be a cure before any of you manage to even make slight progress,’
‘Sirius hasn’t given up, you know. And Peter’s doing better than I am, and I’m top at Transfigurations.’
Remus tensed. James went on. ‘I get that you don’t really want to sit with us, and we were really pleased when you sat down with us yesterday, and we mucked it up by…what we did. But you’ll always be welcome back, mate.’
Remus nodded, a weak smile tugging his lips. This only fuelled James’ resolve to become an Animagus. If he could do it, then things would go back to normal. With a new spring in his step, James got up and bade farewell to Remus, and then headed back to Sirius and Peter, whom he hoped weren’t still fixated on Snape.
Oct. 3, 1975
On the second morning of Snape’s absence, James slapped Peter’s hand away from the honey and drizzled a tablespoon into his milk. The Great Hall was buzzing with conversation and occasional laughter but would inexplicably quieten and spike when a student opened their latest Prophet. James unconsciously stared at Evans while stirring his milk.
A barn owl swooped in front of her and she toothily smiled, offering the bird a Knut and a blueberry from her plate. The moment Evans opened The Daily Prophet, her smile dropped. McKinnon noticed Evans’ sudden rigidness and then anxiously leaned in to see what upset Evans. Her mouth fell open.
James nudged Peter, but Peter had already noticed—and apparently it wasn’t only Evans. Most of those who had their Prophets open had similar reactions.
James also realized that people were staring at the five of them—Lily included, though she wasn’t sitting close to them—but it wasn’t in hopes of catching the Gryffindor King’s attention. From all tables, eyes pierced them with accusatory, condemning looks.
‘I’m assuming there’s been another attack,’ said Remus, sliding in the seat next to James, who did a double-take. Sirius grinned at him but as Remus was pointedly ignoring Sirius, he chose to smile back at Peter instead. Sirius imitated Peter’s crooked smile by pushing in his lips and waving at Remus stupidly, which Peter was too focused on the Prophet readers to notice.
‘It’s probably a really grisly one,’ said Peter thickly, swallowing down his porridge. ‘Look at the professors. Even Dumbledore looks odd,’
‘Odder than he usually is? Never thought I’d see the day,’ grinned Sirius, his head still facing Remus.
The High Table seemed very sombre—as did the gaggle of Evans’ girlfriends, who were now shooting worried and pitying glances at both each other and the now crying Evans.
James made to get up, but Remus held his hand out to go instead. James watched Remus as he went over to not Evans, but a young Gryffindor and asked for his DailyProphet. The boy held it out and Remus’ face darkened. He tugged it out of the boy’s outstretched hands, promised to return it once he was done with it, and then headed back to his seat.
He wordlessly handed it to James, who tightened his grip on the pages.
HOGWARTS STUDENT MISSING
Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore has recently filed a missing report for Severus Tobias Snape, a student under his charge. Snape was last seen on Wednesday, October 1st, in the Slytherin dormitory, wearing standard school robes (Slytherin, green tie and lining). Snape (see attached portrait on the right) is a fourteen-year-old half-blood wizard, with a height of five feet five inches and is noticeably lean with deep black eyes, long black hair, a pasty complexion, and a prominent hooked nose. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is seeking information about the disappearance of the boy and urges any witnesses to come forth and provide intel.
On the right side of the article, a picture of Snape scowled at him through his greasy black curtains of hair. The paper seemed more interested in criticising the school’s safety regulations and Snape’s blood status than Snape himself. But James paid no attention to it and instead fell silent, blinking slowly at the scowling Snape. Snape’s featured were more emphasized, his eyes and hair impossibly blacker than they were, his skin was pale as snow—which only deepened his eyebags and gaunt face, sharpening his cheekbones.
‘Didn’t know he was half,’ he said finally, giving the paper back to Remus.
‘One less Death Eater, one less weekly attack, eh?’ snorted Sirius, who had gotten over his shock.
Remus glared at Sirius and roughly got up, stomping away to return the Prophet back to the boy.
‘What was that about?’ snapped James at Sirius.
‘You should lay off Evans,’ hastily commented Peter, who was now forking his leftover strawberries and porridge into a pulpy mush. ‘My aunt didn’t talk to anyone for a while when her boyfriend died.’
‘Snape isn’t dead!’ yelled James, startling Peter into yelping and dropping his fork. Sirius sniggered.
‘I know, but… how many of these missing people actually turn up?’
Lily—who MacDonald was accompanying to the hospital wing for a draught—heard and let out a wail, and MacDonald glared at Peter.
The staring and added whispering did not stop. James was not stupid—He was top of every class, minus Potions (not that that was important, he could buy potions any old time he wanted) and sometimes Defence (Sniv’s fault, as everything usually is in James’ eyes)—they all collectively agreed it was their fault, like the vipers he thought were his loyal fans weren’t laughing at Snivelly too. Even the bloody professors seemed a bit wary of him.
Lily had arrived to Transfiguration late, with red-rimmed eyes, pale and sniffling, but kept her head down, though her eyes always seemed a bit watery. James chose to sit behind her, MacDonald, and McKinnon, even if it meant sitting alone—not that it mattered, Transfiguration was easily his best subject—and having to listen to Evans faintly sniffle as she, McKinnon, and Macdonald were working on Vanishing spells. James Vanished his shrew on his second try, earning him ten house points.
As soon as class was dismissed, James hurriedly slung his bag over his shoulder—only to be stopped by Professor McGonagall.
‘Potter! I’d like a word, please stay behind.’
Almost every head in the room swivelled to look at him. Sirius sent him an apologetic grin. James sighed and slouched back in his seat, wondering what she would possibly want from him, though he had a hunch. Once the room had cleared out, Professor McGonagall nodded her head at his bag.
‘My office, Potter.’
The pair left the classroom and James was surprised at how quickly McGonagall was walking, but he didn’t have any trouble keeping up. He entertained the notion that she walked quicker than she normally would so people wouldn’t stare as long. They turned a corner, passed another corridor, climbed a staircase, passed through a rather long corridor and into her office.
Professor McGonagall flicked her wand at the hearth, lighting it, then sat at her desk and conjured an armchair for James to sit in. James flattened the fabric creases on his cloak.
‘Do you know why you are here, Potter?’ asked Professor McGonagall, her tone firm yet not unkind.
‘Er, I’ve got a hunch,’
She sighed. ‘Potter, am I correct in assuming you’ve heard of Mr. Snape’s disappearance?’
‘I saw it on The Daily Prophet this morning.’
McGonagall inhales deeply. ‘Mr. Potter, I have had reports from students that you have been harassing Mr. Snape. You two—’
‘Four,’ James spoke without thinking and realized his mistake too early. Kill one man, kill ten, as they say. ‘Sirius and Peter,’ And Remus hung in the air unsaid between them.
McGonagall narrowed her eyes. ‘Mr. Potter, this is crucial information. I do not know to what extent you have been harassing Mr. Snape, but if it has anything to do with his disappearance…’
‘It wasn’t ever anything serious,’ James protested, annoyance curling in his gut. ‘Snape’s the better duellist between Peter, Sirius, and I. He always won. Well, most of the time.’
‘You duelled Mr. Snape?’
‘Well, sort of—’
‘All three of you?’
‘Er, yeah—’
‘At the same time?’
McGonagall was positively fuming, and Potter was a wee bit scared now.
‘…Sometimes?’
‘Thirty points from Gryffindor, each for duelling and having the unfair advantage of three on one.’
‘Professor, it was harmless, he was never h—’
‘Potter, would you care to explain his medical file?’
James furrowed his eyebrows and stared at his shoes.
‘Aurors will be arriving sometime after lunch. You must answer all their questions truthfully. Mr. Snape’s life could be in your hands. His blood status only makes us more worried for him.’
The uncomfortable feeling lodged in his ribcage again.
‘Hold on—the Aurors are going to question me? Why?’
McGonagall conjured a tin of biscuits and pushed it towards him. ‘The Aurors have asked the Heads of House for students who are likely to have information regarding Mr. Snape’s disappearance. You will be questioned, along with Miss Evans and if required, Mr. Black.’
James halved a custard cream and put the side with no cream into his mouth. ‘Other than Evans and me, who’ll be questioned?’
McGonagall looked as though she was done with this conversation. ‘You’ll see, Mr. Potter. Now let me write you a permission slip so Filius knows you were with me.’
But there was still a nagging question James wanted answers for. ‘Professor?’
‘Yes, Potter?’ Professor McGonagall sounded exasperated.
‘What about Snape’s mum and dad? Do they know?’
She stilled, her quill hovering above the inkpot.
‘They… have not yet answered my owl.’
‘Yeah, the Aurors’re going to question me,’ said James, whose teacup was now a Gryffindor red with golden linings.
Remus was less successful, his teacup still had splotches of puce on it. ‘And they’ll question Sirius too?’
‘Reckon so,’ James shrugged. ‘Wonder who else will be questioned from the other houses. It’s probably only us and the Slytherins,’
Remus Mmm’ed as his response. James leaned in and lowered his voice.
‘McGonagall said—she said his parents haven’t responded to her owls.’
‘You asked McGonagall about his parents?’ Remus looked surprised.
James huffed and continued the snitch pattern, already regretting his decision to tell Moony. He felt he should’ve kept that private, because Snape’s parents were a mystery he wanted to solve. Snape was a half-blood, but James already decided one parent was a pureblood and the other was—not a Muggle-born, but perhaps just a regular family wizard name? He’d never heard of any Snapes before, so the logical conclusion was that his mother was the pure-blood of the pair. He filed the information in his mind to look at pure-blood scandals in old Prophets in the library.
The other thing was why they weren’t answering the owls. Maybe they were on vacation? Maybe Snape’s house was warded? Evans and Snape were friends before Hogwarts, and it isn’t uncommon for wizards and witches to ward their houses in Muggle neighbourhoods—but owls are often overlooked when warding. Besides, would Snape’s parents go on vacation while their son goes to school in rags and second-hand, worn textbooks—and wouldn’t they have taught him to wash himself?
‘You’re doing the wand movement wrong. Relax your fingers a little,’
‘I am,’ snapped Remus. He was always unnerved whenever the full moon was a few days away.
Back to Snape’s parents. Snape always stayed for every holiday, even if Evans didn’t. He all but begged Dumbledore to not call his parents to Hogwarts the night of the prank.
Remus nudged James to McKinnon, who was approaching them. ‘Hi, Lily wants to talk to you after Charms. She wants to meet you out in the courtyard.’ Her gaze lingered on Remus for a beat too long and then looked at James. ‘You,’ she nodded her head in clarification.
‘Hello.’ She sniffed, and then pierced James with the glare he knew all too well. This time, there was no satisfaction of getting a reaction out of her.
‘It’s all your fault!’ she wailed, bursting into tears. ‘He’s gone, b-because of you!’
She sobbed and stretched the syllables and James didn’t know what to do.
‘Evans, I’m really, really sorry, and—’
‘SORRY?’ she shrieked. ‘Sorry, are you? POTTER, MY ARSE YOU’RE SORRY!’
James didn’t see why she missed him. He called her a Mudblood. The wanker’s idea of fun was to hang around suspected Death Eaters. ‘Oh, so you’re back to being friends with Snape after he’s gone? Like you weren’t laughing along with everyone when—’
‘Are you fucking stupid? He could be dead! He’s a half-blood Slytherin!’
‘Yes, he’s a Slytherin who’s nose is so far up his arse he forgets he isn’t pure-blood like the rest of the snake pit, which is why he’s probably out getting himself a new tattoo on—’
‘Don’t!’ she choked tearfully. Wiping the corners of her eyes, she glared at him again. ‘Severus wouldn’t—’
‘He would, he would, HE WILL!’ James yelled. It was hard to feel sorry for Evans right now. ‘Can’t you accept that he’s a horrible—’
‘I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!It should have been you!’ Evans screamed. There was now a crowd of onlookers, only adding to the tension and discomfort. ‘I WISH YOU WERE THE POOR KIDNAPPED HALF-BLOOD!’
Evans stiffened, her eyes wide, as if she couldn’t believe what she said. Her resemblance to Snape the other day was uncanny. The sound of wet popping—the sound of dozens of jaws dropping—gasps, and wolf-whistles. Something curled in James’ gut. He didn’t want to be here right now. He didn’t want to see this side of Evans. He should have never seen this side of Lily. Snape should’ve stayed, he shouldn’t have ran off to make people feel sorry for him, the poor, ugly, kidnapped arsehole. James really hated Snivellus right now.