Chapter 3
September 9, 1975
James
James’ first detention of the year falls on the day of his first Quidditch practice with his team. He was looking forward to this day, and now it’s ruined, and Marlene is going to kill him, because she was just as eager to get back to playing. And it’s all because of Regulus Black.
James never really had a problem with his best friend’s brother, until he did. On Monday evening, after Slytherin Quidditch practice, James decided to fly a bit, hoping that some time in the air would help him unburden and organise his thoughts. James never feels freer than when he’s flying, warm autumn wind blowing, and last rays of sunshine throwing shadows over the Forbidden Forest.
Little did he know that on his way to the dorm he would run into Regulus Black and become his partner in crime.
Here’s how it happened.
James completely lost track of time, so by the time he got back to the castle, everyone was sleeping soundly in their dorms. He had his invisibility cloak on, for the fear of accidentally run into Filch. James didn’t want to get in trouble, so he ran through the corridors as quickly as he could, trying not to attract any attention to himself. He knew for sure that portraits would notify Filch the moment they spotted him, so James had to be vigilant.
When he was about to turn the corner, he was knocked to the floor by another body.
‘Hey, what do you think you’re doing?’ James said, trying to shake the dust off his pants as he was rising from the floor.
‘Potter? Didn’t they teach you not to run in dark corridors?’ the stranger said, clearly annoyed. James tried to take a closer look at them and wondered why they looked so blurred.
‘Would you be so nice as to reveal your identity to me? I can’t really see you, and I have no idea who I’m talking to.’
They silently handed over his glasses.
‘Thank you,’ James said, his vision returning to him at once. ‘So, how do you know my-’ James paused when he finally recognised the person in front of him. It wasn’t just a random student with insomnia wandering around empty corridors late at night. It wasn’t a lost first-year, either. It was the last person he’d expected to meet at such time and place.
Regulus Black was standing there, flesh and blood, arms crossed on his chest.
‘How do I know your what?’
‘Nothing. What are you doing here?’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I asked first.’
‘And I asked second.’
Still a little shit, then.
They stood there silently, invested in a staring contest. James didn’t want to tell Regulus where he was going from or where he was heading just out of his stubbornness, but he was intrigued by what Regulus’ reasons of being there were. James knew for sure Regulus wouldn’t be the first one to break the silence, and he would be a fool to assume Regulus would actually tell him why he was in that corridor.
He sighed and said, ‘I’m going from the Quidditch field to my dorm. Kind of lost track of time. Now, what about you? Are you trying to steal something?’
Regulus’ facial expressions were blank. Shaking his head, he hissed, ‘None of your business. Now leave, until Filch comes and gets you.’
‘Not until you tell me what’s going on here. Maybe I should be the one to tell Filch about your whereabouts.’
James realised too late the mistake he had made, as Regulus’ wand was threateningly put right under his chin, his back pressed against a hard stone wall.
‘One more word and I won’t hesitate to curse you, Potter.’
‘I dare you to,’ James smirked.
‘What games are you playing at? I could stupefy you and leave here till someone finds you in the morning.’
‘But you won’t.’
‘No, I won’t. That would be too much commitment,’ Regulus slowly put his wand away, and when James was about to start breathing freely, finally sure that he wouldn’t get cursed or die, Regulus pointed the wand again, this time at his chest, and said, ‘No more shit, Potter. I’m not joking, you must leave. Now.’
James looked hesitantly at the wand pointed to where his pounding heart was, and then at Regulus. Merlin, he was so pretty. James could swear he could stand all night in that empty corridor just staring at him. He caught himself thinking about how nice it would feel to have Regulus closer and smell his perfume just one more time, until he realised what he was actually thinking about.
Don’t get him wrong, he had already been questioning his possible attraction to dudes, but it’d never been a specific dude. Regulus looked as if he’d grown up into a man within two months, and James couldn’t get rid of the feeling that it was wrong. He was too young to stand there, sunken cheeks, perfect posture, holding onto his wand like his life depended on it. He looked bewitchingly under the moonlight reaching his face through small windows at the wall opposite to which James was standing.
Maybe the reason James wanted Regulus closer was because the latter resembled Sirius in many ways. Yes, exactly. Everything else was just the games of his mind, and he wouldn’t subjugate to them.
As those million thoughts ran through James’ mind all at once, a small golden object looking out of the pocket of Regulus’ robes caught his eye.
‘What’s that in your pocket?’ he said, refusing to go away. ‘My eyesight is shit but I swear on my life that’s a snitch.’
Regulus put his left hand into the pocket, making the object sink into the depth of his robes.
‘You’re wrong.’
‘Prove it.’
‘I don’t owe you anything, Potter. Neither explanations nor proofs. It’s none of your fucking business.’
‘But it is, if we are talking about stealing Hogwarts property. How did you even get into Professor Hooch’s office? You’re crazy, you know you could get in trouble if anyone found out, don’t you?’
‘That’s exactly why I told you to get the fuck out of here.’
‘So you did steal a snitch.’
‘I am most sure I did not say that.’
James looked at Regulus expectantly, waiting for his confession. Regulus, on the other side, looked at James, expecting him to finally get the fuck out.
‘What are the chances that you end this masquerade and tell me the truth? I’ve caught you red-handed, there is no way you can get away with it now.’
‘There is a yes way that I will get away with anything,’ Regulus smirked smugly, closing the distance between them.
Just as James heard the sound of someone’s steps approaching them, Regulus cupped his cheek with his right hand and whispered, ‘I told you Filch would come and get you,’ disappearing almost instantly in the darkness round the corner, leaving James to his own devices.
‘You! Show me your pockets! Now!’
That’s exactly how James found out that letting your enemy too close is bad - a snitch in his right pocket, Filch screaming ‘Robbery! Robbery!’, and a not very pleasant conversation with both Professor McGonagall and Professor Hooch afterwards.
Needless to say no one would ever believe him if he said that Regulus Black was the real thief. So, the day of his first Quidditch practice with his team James spends cleaning the trophies without his wand and wondering how he fell into the killing webs woven specifically for him by Regulus Black.
September 18, 1975
Remus
Remus hasn’t made up with Regulus yet, and he can barely pay any attention in class. The closer the full moon is, the harder it gets to focus on anything, and today is no exception.
Gods must hate him, because they have double Potions with Gryffindor, and Remus is definitely not in the mood to hear Gryffindors crack stupid jokes, like they always do. He’s hoping that they have a theory class today, though his hopes aren’t very high.
‘Who can tell me the name of a very powerful sleeping potion that can be made by adding powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?’
‘The Draught of Living Death, Professor.’
‘Excellent! Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Evans.’
Remus smiles. He always liked and admired Lily. They were never friends, but Remus thinks they could be, under somewhat different circumstances.
Remus starts drifting off, when someone grabs him by the sleeve of his robes.
‘Lupin, did you hear me? D’you wanna be my partner?’ Remus rubs his eyes and shakes his head, attempting to stay awake. Barty is looking at him expectantly, his eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for an answer.
‘Pardon, what partner?’
‘Slughorn said we are to break in pairs and brew that potion. Drought of Death or something, I didn’t quite catch its name.’
‘The Draught of Living Death, you mean?’
‘Yeah, guess that’s the one. So, you in?’
‘Where’s Evan?’
Barty smirks. ‘He hasn’t finished his essay on Everlasting Elixirs and decided to skip today.’
‘Not surprised. Sure, Crouch, we can work together. Mind sharing your textbook? I must’ve forgotten mine in the dorm.’
They decide that Barty reads the instructions, and Remus concocts the potion, being the more careful and talented at potion-making between the two. Remus doubts they will succeed today, as he feels his eyes getting heavier and heavier with every minute. It’s a crime they don’t serve coffee at Hogwarts.
Remus starts adding ingredients one by one, according to the recipe provided in the book. The potion looks promising, until it’s time to get the Sopophorous bean’s juice.
‘Barty, are you sure I have to cut it? It’s too solid, there has to be another way.’
‘Yes, Lupin, I am sure.’
Remus looks around the classroom, his gaze jumping from one pair to another. Avery and Mulciber’s potion’s turned into a huge black slime; the Carrows’ are both covered in ashes, Alecto screaming at her brother; Yaxley and Crabbe are having an argument over who should be the one to stir the potion, as neither of them are willing to come too close to it, fearing to suffer the same fate as their fellow classmates.
He looks at Gryffindors then, trying to find at least one sensible pair who has managed to cut the Sopophorous bean. Evans and Macdonald are nowhere close to getting its juice, stuck on chopping the roots. Remus is surprised; he was sure that if someone could manage to brew the potion first, it would be Lily.
He looks at Black and Potter next. Both are having the time of their lives, doing anything else but brewing the potion. Remus takes a glare at their books – both of them are folded, most likely not opened for ages. He sighs, shaking his head, and keeps on looking at them. Actually, at Sirius. Actually, at Sirius’ hands.
Since the last encounter Remus had with Sirius at the library Remus has been wondering whether Black took some potion in summer to make him look like this. Sirius has always looked good, you don’t have to be into men to admit it. And Remus? Well, Remus is into arts, and he couldn’t just not fall for someone who looks like a Greek god descended from Olympus.
This year, however, he looks even more handsome than he had ever before. As if there were any extent to which Sirius’ beauty could be measured, and Remus knows for sure that there’s no such a thing. He keeps staring at Sirius’ hands, while Black plays with the knife and actively gesticulates while speaking with James. And then something happens that completely changes the course of history: Sirius starts subconsciously twisting his knife and hitting his textbook with the flat side of the knife, leaving small cavities in the book’s soft cover.
Remus feels as if he finally woke up from a long dream and is ready to conquer the peaks.
‘Crouch, give me your knife.’
Barty hands over his dagger and Remus crushes the bean with the flat side of it, repeating Sirius’ unconscious motions with the book cover. The juice exudes immediately, and Remus is sure there is enough of it to brew three more Draughts of Living Death.
His and Barty’s potion turns lilac, when Slughorn comes up to them to check their progress.
‘M’boys, excellent! Excellent!’
Remus and Barty are wearing smug smiles, being the only ones who managed to come so far. Cheers to Sirius.
Suddenly Remus’ head feels heavy again, the adrenaline rush now gone.
‘Barty, can you please stir the potion for me? I think I need some rest.’
‘Sure, Lupin. How long do I have to stir?’
‘Till it turns clear. Stir it counterclockwise.’
Barty starts stirring, and Remus can finally relax after almost two hours of not being still. Why did he ever take theory classes for granted? At least during them he doesn’t have to chop and cut things and can fall asleep whenever he feels exhausted or bored.
Just as Remus starts drifting off, he’s awoken for the second time today, this time because Snape - Dorcas’ partner - splashed their potion on her dress, causing dozens of small holes to appear on the black fabric, as if the potion were some kind of acid. Dorcas’ natural reaction was to scream at the boy, throwing roots and beans at his head, and promising to end his life here and now. Barty stops stirring and locks his eyes with Remus. They both start laughing and are quite enjoying the show, while Slughorn is trying to calm Dorcas down, though unsuccessfully.
‘Cas, a bruise would look much better right above his left eyebrow, you should aim there,’ Barty shouts, fully supporting his friend in expressing physical violence towards Snape. Remus wonders if Dorcas’ dress would still be whole if her partner hadn’t been staring at Lily at every opportunity. He should’ve realised by now that nothing would ever make her fall in love with him. How pathetic.
‘Crouch, keep on stirring, we still have to finish the task.’
‘’Course, Lupin,’ Barty says, switching his attention back to the potion. ‘’m supposed to stir it clockwise, right?’
‘Yeah,’ Remus replies, yawning and stretching his limbs. ‘Wait, no, it’s coun-’ when Remus realises he just told Barty to stir it clockwise, instead of counterclockwise, it is too late. He’s already stirring it wrong, and Remus is praying that they don’t end up covered in slimes, ashes, or with holes all over their clothes.
‘I think it’s ready. Clear as water,’ Barty smiles smugly.
Remus looks at him incredulously and bends over the cauldron to check the potion. It actually is clear.
‘How did you-’
‘M’boys! Excellent, excellent!’ Slughorn cries as he sees their perfectly brewed potion. ‘Two bottles of Felix Felicis for you! Everyone, c’mere, look at the Draught of Living Death these two gentlemen have concocted. Mister Lupin, mister Crouch, incredible work! Excellent!...’
Remus and Barty stand there as Slughorn praises them, the former with a surprised look on his face, not quite believing they’ve managed to cope with the task, the latter with his arms crossed on his chest and smiling proudly, as if the whole potion-brewing process was his merit alone.
Remus feels everyone staring at them, but he doesn’t really care about anyone’s reaction. Besides one person's.
He spots Sirius at the table among other Gryffindors, refusing to look to Remus’ side. Remus grins to himself and keeps staring at Sirius, hoping that the lasers he’s throwing at Black’s back with his eyes will make him turn to him. Whether Remus’ plan worked, or Sirius decided to switch his head’s position to his left himself, doesn’t really matter, as Sirius locks his eyes with Remus, smiling slightly as if he were proud. That’s all it takes for Remus to smile back at him, thanking him for the assistance Sirius didn’t even know he provided.
‘By the way, Crouch, what’s the whole thing with Felix Felicis? I’m not sure I listened to Slughorn’s explanations before the class, why did he give it to us?’ Remus asks when they are finally leaving for lunch, with a bottle of liquid luck each.
‘Oh, he talked a lot about how none of his students ever managed to brew this Drought of Death, bla-bla-bla. This potion was supposed to be our motivation. Anyway, mate, we’ll be the luckiest from now on, we’ll be the legend!’ Barty replies with a smirk. ‘I wonder why Evans and Snape didn’t cope with the task though, they’re both excellent at Potions,’ he adds thoughtfully.
Remus lets out a quiet laugh and tries not to forget to make some notes in his Advanced Potion-Making. ‘No idea, mate. No idea.’