Troubling Notes

James cursed for the umpteenth time. His cloak had been stolen. It was a precious family heirloom, so of course he was a bit miffed. Worse, another of those mystery notes was left in its place, sitting innocently in his trunk. He had read it at least dozen times, and the words had not changed.

What I had done was the ultimate betrayal of the friendship we once had. It was me who had revealed what I knew, which caused your deaths on that fateful night. If I could take it back, I would, but I cannot. All I have is the solace that my death will wash away the blood on my hands, and earn your forgiveness.

Again, there was no signature, and James slumped down against the wall of his dorm. He had no idea what to make of this, and neither did the other three Marauders. Worst of all, nor did they know what had happened to his cloak.

Mulciber loved the thrill of the good hunt, and the quarry for today had been one of the Gryffindor Mudbloods, Mary MacDonald. She was safe in Gryffindor tower, most of the time, but there were times when she wasn't there. He would take advantage of one such moment.

So focused was he on his plan that he didn't see the green light coming from behind him, until it hit. He fell to the ground, dead, mouth open in surprise mixed with disbelief.

His killer took off the cloak, revealing a short and chubby frame, and light brown hair. Brown eyes, of similar lightness, regarded Mulciber's body with mixture of contempt and detachment.

Snape joined the shorter boy and nodded.

"You did well today," Snape says. "Potter doesn't suspect you took the cloak, does he?"

"No," the other boy says. "All it took was acting clueless regarding the cloak's disappearance, and he swallowed it. Then again, he never was the brightest bulb in the shed."

"Potter is too trusting," Snape says with a nod. "After all, he never suspected you, then or now."

"Not to throw stones, but you didn't either until it was forced down your throat. You were too busy nursing a grudge to think clearly. Plus, Sirius was always the dangerous one, having both smarts and talent, which made him a compelling investment for Voldemort," the other boy explains. "Which was what ultimately made them make a similar decision of using someone like me. And that was what made the whole thing so effective."

"Enough chitchat," Snape says. "You return the cloak. I'll take care of Mulciber."

The shorter boy nods, and hurries back towards the castle, while Snape dumps the body into the lake. The Giant Squid would take care of the evidence.

The cloak was back in his trunk, where it belonged, James notes with relief. Though this begs the question, when was it returned? Cause someone had to have returned it at some point of the day. Remus was reading a book, while Sirius and Peter were playing wizard chess the whole morning. They were the only ones who knew about the existence of the cloak, though James had been planning to tell Lily. So unless one of them blabbered, it was impossible for the cloak to have been stolen.

Then what had happened?

The note was still sitting in his trunk, innocently, taunting him. It was two mysteries that had to be solved, and James had a weird hunch that they were connected.

"James?"

James looked at Peter, who seemed concerned.

"Am I going insane, or is there something going on that I don't understand?" James threw his arms up in frustration.

Peter's mouth twitched minutely, and then he grinned from ear to ear.

"I am sure it is nothing," Peter assures him "Things will go back to normal before you know it. Now, come on, we don't want to be late for class, do we?"

James nodded, and they went off together. James walked in front and Peter followed. He raised his right arm and rubbed his left wrist subconsciously. They soon caught up with Sirius and Remus and headed the rest of the way to the class together.

He breathed out, careful not to let others hear. Snape was standing next to the classroom door, and the two of them locked eyes as he entered the classroom. He could feel Snape's eyes on his back as Snape followed him inside, deliberately taking a seat across from his own. A shiver ran across his spine. Snape might be an ally for now, but allies could become enemies. He knew this better than anyone. He himself was an ally-turned-enemy, after all.

Snape turned his head to look at him and smirked. It was almost if Snape was reading his thoughts. Which could very well be true, since Snape was an accomplished Legillimens.

So he did the only thing he could. He endured. Once classes were over, he claimed he needed to visit the owlery, before rushing off. True to his word, he did go to the owlery, and once there, he removed his shoe and retrieved a blade he had hidden there. It was small, but it would suit his purpose. He slashed his wrists multiple times. Pain helped him focus. Pain was his punishment for doing what he did.

He made sure to heal the wounds and clean the blood before returning to the dorm. Another day of pretending. Of pretending that everything was fine, when it was not.

Of pretending that the note in James' trunk didn't concern him, when it very much did. After all, it was he who put it there, just as he did with the previous two. True, Snape might have written the third one, but it was done on his behalf. He and Snape were careful to limit it to the words they would both write, with him offering input here and there. In exchange, all he had to do was get rid of the students who would join Voldemort in the future, thus giving Snape no recourse but to stick to Lily. That was the agreement, and he would follow it. If he didn't, Snape would back out of the plan, and his secret would be found out. They would intervene, for his sake, and history would repeat itself. He knew this, and so he had to see this through to the bitter end.