CHAPTER X

James glanced at the warning on the wall, the blood of the letters glistening in the weak light of his wand. It was still fresh, dripping ever so slightly. But whose blood was it? Was it possible that the culprit had used their own?

James dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came to him. It wouldn’t make sense, he thought, they’d risk exposing themselves if they used their own.The person who did it wanted to instil fear, if they got caught, all their efforts would be in vain. But then why was Cresswell here? 

Wasn’t that cutting it too close? Did they mean to curse them, or was he just at the wrong place at the wrong time? Did he see something he shouldn’t have, or was the message written later? 

Did they…use his blood?

James wasn’t the best with supportive magic, often rather than not relying on Peter’s affinity with healing spells - yet he was pretty sure he remembered enough from Pomfrey’s lessons to recognise if Cresswell was about to collapse from blood loss.

Even if the spell or curse that was put on him made sure he can’t move, the quick examination charm James had done made sure there were no life-threatening injuries on his body. If there was a cut on him, it was small. 

James forcefully relaxed his grip around his wand while his eyes kept watchfully skimming across the hallway. Either way, how the blood got there wasn’t important. 

There was a quick flicker of movement on his right. A man in dark brown monk robes, the same that had complained when they first entered the hallway, popped into a nearby portrait, his face twisted with annoyance.

“It’s so late,”  he grumbled loudly, his voice easily carrying over the quiet sound of running water. “Didn’t I tell you to leave, troublemaker? Why are you still here?” 

James glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Spread the word to teachers, there has been an attack.”

“An attack?” the monk repeated incredulously. 

The edge of his long robes seemed to have gotten caught in one of the bushes in the picture and he made a series of frustrated noises as he attempted to tug it free. He was unsuccessful.

James didn't chuckle, but it was a near thing. 

“Eh,” the monk seemed to give up, instead shifting his attention back to him. “Attack did you say? What kind of nonsense is that?”

James stared at him and the monk stared back, uncomprehending.

“...Just look around.” 

The monk shook his head, his gaze barely moving away from him before he was back to glaring with disapproval. “Don’t take me for a fool, boy. I don’t have time for your jokes.”

“Yeah, it’s really my idea of fun to stand in water in the middle of the night, next to a petrified guy with a wall dripping blood right behind me. Might squeeze it in for next week too.”

“So you admit it!” 

“No.” James had to swallow down a particularly expressive insult. Dealing with ghosts was one thing, but portraits were truly something else. “Nevermind. Can you at least get someone else?”

“Get someone else? Me? I have been hung on these walls for centuries,” the monk bristled, “and yet you want me to play a messenger? You’re wasting your time, I can tell you that there is no way-” 

James ignored him and instead reached with his free hand to the pocket of his robe.

“Be quiet,” he told him, bluntly ignoring the offended gasps the monk let out, his fingers dragging across the slightly sharp surface of the mirror. Remus kept telling him he should have the edges sanded down, but James wasn’t planning on it. Whenever he looked at it, he could clearly see the ridges where they split the mirror in half.

He said a name, arm falling to his side. The pressure of the sharp glass digging into his palm felt strangely grounding. 

“Prongs?” came Sirius’ confused voice from the mirror. 

James wished he could tilt the glass up, but with the portrait still blabbing on in his ear, he had to rely on his sight for any possible danger. Glancing away wouldn’t be the best idea.

“Padfoot,” James said, even but quick. “Myrtle’s bathroom. Second Floor.”

“On it.”

The connection servered. 

“-simply wasting my time-” the monk kept talking and James tuned him out. The horse on whose picture he had barged into was already wide awake, snorting with obvious irritation. James more than understood him.

Remus must surely be on his way with McGonagall already, he thought. It was hard to tell time in the dark, and McGonagall’s cabinet wasn’t that far, but the bottoms of his feet were already turning ice cold from the surrounding water. He hoped she had already alerted Madam Pomfrey, Cresswell needed aid as soon as possible. 

“You?” Myrtle’s head appeared by the doorway to her lavatory, her translucent body reflecting light in the water. “Why are you here?”

The monk fell blissfully silent, his eyes flitting to her with obvious displeasure before he silently  disappeared out of the frame.

“Myrtle,” James said. “Did you see anything weird? Did you see who did it?” 

“Did I see who did it?” she sniffed,  her voice climbing up higher. “You have the nerve to ask me! Just a few metres in front of the place I died? You Gryffindors are truly heartless!”

“It’s-” 

“As if you would listen to me anyway!” she screamed over him, voice shrill, “No, no one ever did! Not the first time and I doubt much has changed!” 

With a loud slam, the door to her bathroom fell shut, even more water flooding the hall.

James considered calling after her, even if his ears were still ringing from her loud cries, but he let the idea go when he heard a pair of approaching footsteps from the staircase.

“It was right here!” Remus called out and soon enough he could see the light from another wand coming in closer until he could make out Professor McGongall’s tight expression. Her face looked incredibly pale in the white light of lumos , her usually omnipresent hat missing from the top of her head. 

“Mr. Potter,” she said, then stopped. Whatever she was planning to say next seemed to evaporate out of her mind as her sharp gaze shifted away from him and towards the writing on the wall.

For a moment, she continued to stare, eyes wide and unblinking. Then, she pressed her lips firmly together and turned to Cresswell. 

“Very well, let me have a look at him. Mr. Lupin, if you don’t mind?” 

Remus moved closer, bringing his wand up as McGongall leans in to check Cresswell’s eyes, snapping her fingers in front of the left one, then the right. The boy didn’t even stir.

“Unresponsive…” James heard her murmur, then watched as she dismissed the lumos charm in favour of tapping on the side of his neck with the tip of her wand.

She leaned in closer to listen, her eyes falling close in concentration while Remus continued to hover around, face ashen white.

After a moment, her brows furrowed and she leaned back, tucking her wand away.

“I assume there haven’t been any changes since you found him? Any noises or twitches?” 

“No, Professor.”

“I see.” Her lips pursed with displeasure. 

“A bit more light here, Mr. Lupin,” she requested after a pause and Remus quickly acquited, bringing his wand higher.  

Another set of feet echoed around the hall, the water rippling as Sirius slowed down from his run. His gaze swept across the end of the hall, turning relieved as it fell on  them. Without hesitation, he strode closer, his hand moving to push his wand back to his sleeve.

“Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall glanced over her shoulder. “Mr. Lupin didn’t mention you were present as well.” 

“It’s a recent development,” Sirius said as he came to stop before them, “Sorry, Professor.”

Professor McGongall didn’t seem particularly bothered, or surprised. James had a strange feeling she had been expecting Sirus to turn up the moment she realised James was standing in the hall alone. Without saying anything else, she turned back to Cresswell, Remus anxiously hovering nearby, face pale. 

Sirius stepped closer, his gaze turning from McGonagall to the wall behind James’ head.

“Well…shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

They stared at the wall for a moment before Sirius turned his head to look at him, his voice muted. “What’s wrong with Cresswell?”

“Looks like someone turned him to stone,” James replied in the same volume. “He’s completely unresponsive, can’t even move his eyes.”

Sirius’ face turned pensive and James glanced at him.

“You think it’s the…”

Sirius nodded. James turned to look at the writing with an inquisitive gaze. Could it really be? They’ve all heard about the Chamber of Secrets, but James never gave it much thought beyond that. It was always just a legend, one of the many, many stories surrounding the founding of Hogwarts.

“Alright,” Professor McGonagall declared loudly as she brandishes her wand. “The teachers will be here any moment, and we will take Mr. Cresswell to the infirmary.”

A clear dismissal, if James had ever heard one. He was about to open his mouth to argue they couldn’t just leave when he heard the loud voices from the other end of the corridor, multiple lights appearing in the darkness.

“I am sure he will be very grateful to you, when he wakes up,” Professor McGonagall continued, “But now leave it to us and return back to your Common Room. Regardless of the recent development, I believe you still have your Transfiguration exam tomorrow.” 

Remus grimaced at the reminder. 

“But Professor-” 

“No, Mr. Black, I am serious.We will take it from here.” 

“Where is he? Let me take a look at him!” Madam Pomfrey ordered loudly, her white robes swishing past them as they reluctantly turned to leave. Dumbledore’s bright orange robes were not far behind, easily visible in the sudden light of multiple wands.

“Oh Merlin,” James heard professor Sprout whisper in astonishment, “The message, Dumbledore, it… is it -” she made a strange, strangled sound somewhere in her throat. 

“Let’s not make any hasty conclusions, Professor Sprout. As far as we can see, Mr. Cresswell has just been petrified.”

“Let’s take care of him first and speculate later,” professor McGonagall injected.

“Yes, of course.”

“Someone help me levitate him,” Pomfrey’s voice carried over to them just as they made it to the stairwell, the voices fading away into an unintelligible, distant echo. 

They only climbed up a few steps, when James realised they were walking alone. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed that Remus was still standing by the hallway, his face forlorn.

“Moony?” Sirius asked,  “You coming?”

Remus jerked his head back to them, then quickly nodded,“Yeah, sorry. Let’s go.”

As was to be expected in the middle of the night, when they finally make it to their dorms, the Common Room was empty and dark, the last embers of the fireplace already long snuffed out. 

The moment they opened the door to their dorm, Peter’s head snapped up from a book he’d been reading.

“You’re back,” he said, his expression turning a bit puzzled as he seemed to notice their wet clothes. “What happened? Did you mess up some prank?”

James shook his head, moving to his bed to change while Remus gave a large sigh and pressed his fingers against the base of his nose.

“No, though I wish that was the case.”

Peter frowned and moved to set the book aside, slapping the green tome shut. He watched as Remus moved towards his bed as well, mirroring James and Sirius.

“I don’t get it.”  

“There was -” Remus seemed to hesitate, his lips pressing together, as if he was unsure what to really call it. With a quiet sound, water continued to drop down from the wet sock still in his hand, creating a small puddle under him.

“Cresswell was attacked,” Sirius stated.

“Attacked?” Peter exclaimed loudly, his voice going higher as his eyes jumped between them. 

James hummed as he slipped on a blessedly dry t-shirt, then flicked his wand to levitate all his drained clothes over the board of his bed. Drying spells were tricky, often rather than not resulting in fire, so he decided it was best to let his robes dry naturally. 

“Not the Death Eaters,” he explained, “but maybe something equally dangerous.”

“B-but how?”

By the time they’d explained everything that has happened since leaving Slughorn’s detention, Peter’s eyes looked like they couldn't get any wider. Then, his expression turned sheepish.

“I must have fallen asleep while studying,” he said, fingers scratching at the hem of his sleeve. “I remember I went to the Common Room to focus better, but then it was so boring…” 

Suddenly, he straightened in his seat, face filling with renewed curiosity. “It really said Chamber of Secrets? The Chamber?”

James made an affirmative noise as he clasped his hands around his leg. 

They’d moved to the ground when they first started recounting the story, creating a small semi-circle in the centre of the room. A little fire they’d set up was placed in the middle, partially contained in a large glass jar.

James wasn’t completely sure how it had appeared in their room, just that when they first thought about doing an indoor fire like this in their fourth year, Peter took it out of his bedside table and calmly presented it to them. It looked strikingly familiar to the jars that the school house elves used for the storage of marmalades. James silently agreed with himself not to mention it.

“It could be something else, couldn’t it, “Remus said slowly, his legs folded under him and a blanket half raised around his shoulder. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“There’re only two possibilities really,” James said as he shifted again, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Either someone just wanted to scare everyone and is using the old story as an excuse, or it really happened.”

“Let’s hope it’s the first one then,” Remus decided after a moment, his chest lifting with a large sigh. 

Sirius made a quiet considering noise, his hair moving as he tilted his head backwards. 

“Is that really better?” 

The blanket slipped down one of Remus’ shoulders as he straightened a little, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean?” 

“A real monster,” Sirius said slowly, the light of the flame flickering across his face, “or a fanatic that hides behind a shadow of one. Can we really say which one is better?”

“Good point,” James agreed sombrely. Sirius tilted his head a little from where he had been looking at the ceiling, meeting his eyes before looking away again.

“A person still -” Remus started, louder than before before swallowing.“ Just…a person still sounds better. I can’t even imagine what kind of monster could be hiding in the Chamber.”

“Or well,” he laughed a little, fingers moving up to play with the hem of his sweater, “I guess the problem is I can imagine too many.” 

James stared into their small fire, watching the flame flicker.

“It’s unfair, isn’t it?” he asked after a moment, voice bitter. “As if muggle-born wizards didn’t have it hard enough with stupid Voldemort murdering them as he pleases.” 

Peter visibly recoiled. 

“P-prongs!”

“Hm?”

“You shouldn’t just use his name just like that. And saying these things…”

“Why not? It’s not like he’ll spare me if I don’t say it.”

“But -” Whatever it was that he had wanted to say, Peter seemed to swallow it down, and instead burrowed his head down, resting it on his knees. 

“If you want to say something, say it, Wormtail.” Sirius said without glancing his way.

“No, it’s fine.”

“You can say it,” James encouraged him and Peter’s eyes jumped to him, filled with hesitance.

“It’s just that,” he shifted, the arms around his legs tightening. “Well, you’re pureblood.”

“Yeah. And?”

The fire crackled, little bits of ember flickering and gently floating  in the jar before they burn away.

Peter avoided their searching looks and instead looked down, his hands clenching even tighter around his knees. 

“So he’d probably do it. Spare you I mean.”

James snorted, “He’d be stupid to. Besides, even if a scum like him wanted to spare me, I wouldn’t want that kind of fate anyway.”

A strange expression passed across Peter’s face, but he nodded and didn’t say anything else.  

The next morning came quickly, which was unsurprising considering how long they'd stayed up in the end. For a short, blissful moment James entertained the idea of not getting up for at least another hour, before Remus’ loud recitation of transfiguration spells a bed over got so unbearable, that leaving the comfort of his own bed for bathroom sounded like the better alternative.

Whatever shock Remus underwent yesterday that allowed him to spend the better part of the night chatting with them, it was gone, his mind once again focused on the remaining exams. It didn’t get much better even when it was Remus’ turn in the bathroom, as he kept walking in and out of the room with his toothbrush in his mouth, recounting the best ways to transform mice into flowers. Peter took to trailing after him, his face tight with concentration.

“Your robes are on backwards,” James told him when Remus did another round around his bed and then back to the bathroom, Peter only a step behind him.

Peter’s cheeks flushed a little as he scrambles to turn his robes the right way around. “Ah, right, thanks.” 

He looked like he barely slept a wink, the circles under his eyes now even more prominent that James saw him up closer. Before he could comment on it however, Peter was already moving to catch up with Remus, quickly scrambling to follow and not miss anything that could appear on the test. 

By the time they were descending down the stairs to the Great Hall, it was getting close to the start of their lessons.

James had the plan to use the little time they had to grab a piece of toast or something, when they heard a familiar voice call out just as they were passing by the third floor.

“Guys! Guys! Wait!”

It was Frank Longbottom, followed closely by Gideon Prewett. The expressions on their faces were grim which immediately made it clear what happened. They must have learned the news.

“Dumbledore told us what happened,” Gideon said slowly, a slight tremor to his words. “That Dirk…got attacked. That you were there.” 

James nodded, Remus doing the same. 

“I- thank you. I can’t imagine what could have happened if he was just left there, or if whoever attacked him had the chance to-” he cut off abruptly, lips shaking as he lowered his head.

Frank reached over to land a comforting hand on his shoulder, his expression full of sympathy. 

“You really don’t have to thank us,” James said.  “We didn’t do anything.”

Frank shook his head. “No, he’s right. It’s lucky you were there.”

No, James thought darkly, lucky would have been if we were there in time to stop it all from happening. His shoulders tensed at the thought and he glanced away, unable to look at Prewett’s grateful face any longer. 

“Did you get to see him?” Remus asked from behind him, voice a bit hesitant.

The question made Frank’s expression drop even more.

“Not yet,” Prewett replied, dejected. 

James frowned, an echo of an ache filling his chest. He couldn't imagine being told one of his best friends was in the infirmary after being attacked and not being able to go see them.

“Anyways,” Prewett said with a weak smile, “I’ve held you up for long enough. Dumbledore is supposed to have a speech now, I guess we should all get going.”

By the clamouring crowd they had to squeeze through a floor lower, it was clear the news had gotten out already.

“I thought the teachers haven’t said anything official yet,” James voiced as soon as they made it though, glancing over his shoulder at the still growing mass of people. There would not be much to see anyways, he guessed. Filch detested mess, and it was unlikely he didn’t already clean everything up.

“They didn’t,” Frank shook his head. “Bertha Jorkins told everyone.”

Sirius gave an ugly scoff as he exchanged a look with James.

“Of course she did.” 

“But how did she even find out?” Peter questioned, quickening his pace to keep up with them.

“I have no idea. Maybe she saw the message before Filch managed to clean it all up, or she just overheard something. It’s impossible to tell since she changes her story every minute. I’ve already heard one version in which she claims that the monster of the Chamber requires a new sacrifice every week.” 

“She just likes being the centre of the attention,” Sirius said with disdain. “Her words are barely worth more than the empty air between her ears.”

Prewett’s lips shifted into a small, genuine smile.

“You’re right about that.” 

Dumbledore’s speech ended up short. With carefully chosen words he recounted the events of last night, his expression not faltering even as whispers started to run throughout the Hall. The students from Beauxbatons Academy and Durmstrang didn’t seem particularly surprised, but James guessed they were already told by their Headmasters beforehand, with how serious their faces had  looked before Dumbledore had even gotten up to speak.

As he got to the message on the wall, James noticed some of the Slytherins exchanging badly hidden smirks. Crouch’s attention seemed to be on the other students instead of the Headmaster, his gaze moving over them with a satisfied smirk on his lips and Avery next to him was leaning back in his seat, a haughty expression on his face.

Snape’s head was back to them, which James counted as a blessing -  whatever expression he was when hearing about the Chamber, James had no interest in seeing in.

On the far side of  the table sat Lucinda Talkalot, her face twisted into disgust while the two classmates next to her whispered and smirked. A few seats away from her was Regulus, who was  listening to Dumbledore with an eager expression on his otherwise impassive face.

“We cannot say what it was exactly,” Dumbledore declared with a look that seemed to be pointed toward the centre of the Hufflepuff table, where Bertha Jonkins squirmed slightly in her seat. “But I can say with absolute certainty that Mr. Cresswell will make a swift recovery as soon as the new batch of mandrakes from professor Sprout is done growing.”

“With the help of our esteemed guests,” Dumbledore inclined his head towards Headmaster Eriksson and Madame Bellegrade, who returned the motion. “I am certain that we will deal with this problem as soon as possible.”

“However, I still must urge you all to be careful. For that reason, I would ask all of you that are able to spend this winter break at your homes while we thoroughly search the school. That is all.” He blinked at them, the serious expression on his face melting away. “Enjoy the food, I heard the eggs are particularly delicious today.”

Perhaps it was a testament to how strange his speeches can get, because none of the older students even blinked an eye at the decidedly different ending, while the first and second year students looked a little bit lost.

“I was hoping he would cancel today’s exams,” Peter sighed as he reached over to scoop up some apple pie that just appeared up onto his plate. 

“You’re telling me,” Remus said darkly, then started murmuring about teacups under his breath again.

With the exams finally succesfully dealt with, Remus had returned to quiet sleep instead of talking in his sleep, which James more than appreciated. The next week passed by in a blink, the whole school seemingly talking about nothing but the Chamber of Secrets. Crouch’s little gang and some other Slytherins had taken to taunting muggleborns with renewed vigour, referring back to the message in every opportunity they got.

They were particularly loud in Potions, given by the fact that Slughorn pretended not to hear anything that didn't directly concern him or the potions in question.

“If you brew this right,” Slughorn told them in the last Potions class before the break, his hand moving to lift up the blue elixir in his hand, “it might put whoever drinks it into deep sleep.” 

“An unending sleep,” Mulciber whispered loudly, “I guess that's how the muggles will feel when the monster finds them.” 

Avery snickered, the sound as annoying as it has been for the last twenty minutes.

“Sounds about right,” he said, “Though I can’t imagine it will be very peaceful.”

“And that reminds me we need to add a bit of sulphur as well,” Slughorn continued, undisturbed.

He looked at his table, gaze sliding across the ingredients before he scratched at his chin in thought. “Ah, seems like I missed that one, didn’t I? Give me a second, I’ll be right back.” 

He disappeared into his cabinet, the sounds of objects clattering inside carrying to them.

Avery whispered something again, and Lily Evans whirled to face him. 

“Can you stop it!” she snapped, then moved a little closer to Mary McDonald, who was a table over, her face beginning to turn a little pale from all the comments.

At the sound of her voice, Snape raised his head from where he was hunched over his cutting board, his dark eyes staring before they shifted to Avery and Mulciber, then back to his potion.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Evans.” Avery drawled, smirking. “I’m just stating facts. The monster is still going to get her, she should at least know what is coming. You should too for that matter.”

“Shut your mouth, Avery,” James told him coldly from the other side of the classroom, the twisted smirk on Avery’s face freezing for a moment before it widened. 

“What, Potter? I’m just educating her on her fate. Even a sheep should know when it’s heading for slaughter.” 

Sirius stood up, his chair screeching against the stone floor. Avery jolted in his seat, accidentally knocking over one of his vials. 

It fell on the ground with a loud crash, the glass scattering almost as quickly as a dark red flush started to spread across Avery’s face.

“Oh my-” Slughorn’s head appeared in the doorway of his cabinet, completely obvious to the tension in the room. “Did another one of those vials get broken? What a shame, what a shame. But what can you do.”

James let his fingers loosen from where he clenched them around his wand. Across the room, Avery crossed his hands, silently fuming, his face still red.

He looked so ridiculous that James couldn't help but snicker.

“I’ve never seen someone jump so high before,” he told Sirius, grinning with satisfaction when Avery turned even a darker shade. “You must have scared him shitless, Padfoot.”

Sirius’ expression didn’t outwardly change much, but James noticed the way the corner of his lip twitched with smugness as he met his eyes. 

From a few rows over, Lily glanced at them, lowering her head slightly into a grateful nod, before turning back to Mary, she and Marlene quietly talking to her.

James doubted this would be the last of it, but it was nice to finally have some peace during the lesson.

With the last lessons of the year behind them, most of the students started to leave the castle for the break, just as Dumbledore had requested. The train ride passed by quickly, with Peter sleeping almost half of the way there, and James, Sirius and Remus trying to stack the largest amount of cards from chocolate frogs on his forehead before he woke. 

When they got to London and onto the platform, Mrs. Potter welcomed them all with a warm smile.

“Merlin, I could swear you’re getting taller and taller,” she said when they walked closer, luggages dragging behind them. Peter seemed to glow at the praise, his head peeking up with a pleased smile.

“Hello Mrs. Potter,” he greeted, Remus doing the same while James beamed at her, shortening the distance to envelope her into a hug. 

“Mum, I’m so glad to see you,” he grinned and she squeezed her arms around him before he pulled back. 

“Mrs. Potter-” Sirius barely got out before she was pulling him in for a hug as well.

“I keep telling you to call me Effie,” scolded his mum and James beamed, catching the flustered yet almost shily pleased expression that crossed Sirius’ face.

“You’re wearing the scarf aren’t you? Ah let me take a look at it!” She pulled back to examine it, then nodded with satisfaction. “The colour suits you well. I hope it’s warm enough?”

“It is.”

She patted him on the head, not noticing the way Sirius’ eyes widened ever so slightly.

“I’m glad. Merlin knows I could send James hundred scarves and he would still forget to wear them no matter the weather. I’m glad at least one of you has some sense.” 

“I wear them sometimes!” James protested just for the sake of it, a grin still on his face, while Remus chuckled. 

“He really doesn’t,” Sirius said, the corner of his lips twitching, then evaded when James moved to elbow him in the ribs.

“There you all are,” came Mr. Potter’s voice, his hazel eyes shining as he made his way over to them. “Your mother left me to the dragons. I just spent the last fifteen minutes trying to catch some first year’s owl.” 

“Ten at most,” corrected Euphemia, and Fleamont Potter exchanged a knowing look with James, then grinned. 

“I’m glad you all made it home safe,” he said, then turned towards Peter and Remus. “Did my dear wife already invite you over?”

“I was getting to it.” 

“You have to be quicker then, honey.”

Euphemia tried to frown, but it was clear it was only for show. Fleamont smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Well, boys?”

They all agreed, chatting for another moment before Remus squinted his eyes, then moved to balance on his toes. 

“I think I see my parents,” he said, looking over at the other students and parents mingling around the platform. 

The Hogwarts Express puffed out another large cloud of steam, the sound of the horn blowing piercing the air. A group of students that was still in the train hurried out, some of them stumbling slightly on the steps.

A few paces over from them stood a group of fifth years, laughing so loud the sound easily carried over the train all the way to them. At their centre, Alice Fortescue was attempting to convince her cat to enter a cage. Her friends fell into another round of hysterics when the cat suddenly sat down on Alice’s boots and refused to move, innocently meowing. 

“It’s them, I have to go. Goodbye and nice Christmas!” Remus called as he hurried away.

“I should get going too,” Peter admitted, his fingers fidgeting with the handle of his suitcase. “Merry Christmas!”

“Well? Let’s get going, boys,” Euphemia said when they were done saying goodbye, a mischievous smile curling around her lips. “I might have baked a large pie for the occasion.”

Sirius’ eyes sparkled with interest. Next to him, James straightened, then took off with a bounce to his step, his parents laughing. James couldn’t wait to taste it. For all the delicious food at Hogwarts, his mother’s food was something else entirely.

The Godric’s Hollow they arrived at was covered with a thick layer of snow, the white surface sparkling like thousand little crystals in the light. It would have been a shame to waste it, really, which was why he and Sirius had taken to creating an obstacle course created out of ice, snow and magic.

It took a few days. Euphemia kept shaking her head whenever she saw them come all covered in snow before pressing a warm cup of tea into their hands, all while berating them for dragging water onto her wooden floors. 

“At least take your jackets off before they start to drip, or I will be making you clean that up with the smallest rag I can find,” she warned them, crossing her hands. “And with no magic.”

The effect was ruined by Fleamont who came in covered with snow head to toe, his eyes wide.

For a moment, there was only silence, before he raised his hands in surrender.

“In my defence, the enchanted snowman took me by surprise.”

James glanced at Sirius, a snort escaping him as soon as their eyes met.

By the time Peter and Remus arrived a few days after Christmas, the obstacle course was ready, together with all the gifts they'd planned to exchange. They spent the first half of the day lounging around the fire in the living room, playing wizarding chess and eating the gingerbread that Sirius helped to make. 

“Can you believe the Full moon almost fell on Christmas?” Remus complained as they’re setting up another game after the very quick round in which Peter had gotten absolutely demolished.

“Was it fine?” James asked, feeling a little guilty at not being to accompany him, even though it was Remus who declined the offer.

“Yeah, it was alright. I couldn’t imagine being there every Moon though, the room felt so much smaller than the Shrieking Shack.”

“You say that as if we don’t often end up in the woods,” Sirius said drily and Remus gave a sheepish smile, shrugging.

“Right,” he acknowledged, then faltered a little, his ears red. “Dad was surprised though, said the sounds he heard were less aggressive than he remembered, I guess that’s thanks to you all.” 

“Really?” Peter perked up and Remus nodded, another small smile spreading across his lips. James was glad for it, he remembered the first year they found out and how much Remus struggled with even talking about his transitions, but here he was, talking about it without any prompting and even smiling at his own progress. It was a nice change.

“Alright, enough stalling,” he said instead. “It’s time I crushed you in this game, Moony, and you know it.”

Remus gave a startled chuckle. “Fine, but don’t sign me off so quickly! You might be surprised.” 

He lost within the first few rounds. 

The obstacle course made up for the second half of their day, with them taking turns on a broom to see who gets through it faster. After a snowball kicked unsuspecting Peter off the broom in the first ground, it quickly got changed into ‘who manages to get through it without falling’. It didn’t improve the odds by much.

Sirius started after him, but ended up flying too close to the ground in the second part of the course while evading the snowballs, which means he triggered one of the traps on the ground. The snow around him erupted in such a volume that he completely disappeared from their sight for a second before he dug himself up, grinning widely. James went after him, mainly because Sirius made him.

“You’re laughing a little too much, Prongs,” Sirius had told him and pushed him towards  the broom. “It’s time you tasted some snow.”

James had the crazy idea to lean over and lick some of the snow still stuck in Sirius’ hair, the little crystals shining like jewels between the black strands, before he came back to himself and instead shoved a handful of snow down the neck of Sirius’ jacket.

Remus, no doubt waiting for the opportunity all along, immediately threw a snowball at him, screaming “This is for the chess match!” 

Unfortunately for him, his aim had never been the best and Peter got caught in the crossfire, Remus’ snowball striking him right in the middle of his face. He stared for a moment, dumbfounded while James ran around, trying to escape Sirius who had hands filled with ridiculous amounts of snow. Then, he squatted and started gathering snow as well, tapping it into large uneven moulds.

Seeing the consequences of his actions, Remus quickly crouched as well, the bottom of his long coat collecting moisture as he quickly piled up his weapons. 

“I wasn’t aiming at you!” he tried to amend but Peter shook his head, orange gloves already polishing a snowball to deadly perfection. 

“You’re saying that now!” he screamed and threw. Remus managed to evade it, but stepped right into the trajectory of James’ snowball, ice splattering across his shoulder.

James laughed and quickly ran away, delighted by the stunned expression that appeared on Remus’ face.

The next moment Sirius’ throw connected with his neck, sending a shower of ice cold dust down his spine. 

“Padfoot,” James whined, even as the grin wouldn’t leave his face. “We’re supposed to be on the same side.” 

“You started it,” Sirius reminded him, getting dangerously close.

James tried to escape but Sirius moved forward quicker than a cat and caught him by the back of his jacket, pulling him closer.

“First, I’m going to shove your face into the snow,” he told him, “Then, we’ll take the two of them down.”

They had made up plans to meet the next weekend as well, but only Remus arrived, Peter nowhere to be seen even after multiple hours have passed. They heard from him only three days later when an owl arrived carrying the message that he had gotten sick.

Sirius wasn’t very impressed.

“Sounds like an excuse to me,” he said that night, flipping another page on the book in his lap. “He could have at least bothered to send it sooner.”

James settled next to him on his bed, humming. “It sounds bit like during the summer, doesn’t it?”

The letter they got was short, a stark difference to Peter’s usual long winded correspondence. The silence of it said more than pages of writing ever could have.

“It’s whatever,” Sirius said. “His loss.”

James nodded as he brought his legs up, then scooted backwards on the bed until his back was resting against the wall. Something about the message still rubbed him the wrong way, but Sirius was right, there was  no point in thinking about it any longer. If Peter didn’t want to spend time with them, whatever the reason, that was his decision. 

He inclined his head towards the book in Sirius’ lap.

“What are you reading?”

Sirius glanced at him,  grey eyes bright even in the dim light of James’ room. “It’s the book your parents gave me.”

“Ohh, the one about curses?” James exclaimed with excitement and shifted closer to see better, his body leaning to the side until he bumps into Sirius’ shoulder. “Is it any good?”

Sirius’ eyes flitted to him, then quickly moved away.

Seeing as he didn’t answer right away, James instead leaned over him, eyes squinting  to read the headline on the next page. His hand grabbed onto Sirius’ right forearm for support, fingers curling ever so slightly around the suddenly rigidly held arm.  

“Goblin Markets and Gold,” he read out loud. “That sounds interesting.” He looked at Sirius to catch his reaction, only now realising how close they’ve gotten.

The breath that he took caught in his lungs. 

Abruptly, James moved back a little, clearing his throat. 

“Want me to tell you about it?” Sirius offered after a moment, and James gave him a grateful nod.

“Sure, sounds good.”

Something unreadable seemed to pass across Sirius’ face. James could feel his eyes widen, heart beating in his ears as Sirius shifted a bit closer, cutting off the distance that James put between them until their shoulders were back to touching again. 

James felt such a sudden rush of fondness that he was almost caught off guard by it.