CHAPTER XIV

The chair creaked slightly as Dumbledore settled his weight on it, the sound strangely loud in the sudden silence of the tent. 

“I believe this to be pure formality with you two; however, it is still a question that must be asked.” He measured them both with a serious look from behind his half-moon glasses. “The red sparks you sent out in the swamp, should they be treated as your withdrawal from the tournament?”

James blinked, uncomprehending for a second before the words fully registered.

“What? No!”

He exchanged a bewildered look with Sirius across him, and Dumbledore nodded his head, his mouth curling up slightly at the edges.

“I thought so. Though I must remind you that there’s no shame in leaving the tournament. Morgana herself knows that there have been fewer winners than tournaments…” He trailed off, a weary expression settling on his face.

“That’s not the reason you came to see us though, is it, sir?” Sirius voiced.

“No,” Dumbledore allowed after a moment, absently scratching at his long beard. “It’s not.” 

He paused, his robes rustling softly as he shifted in his seat. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m afraid I’ll have to put it plainly. Though we did manage to drive the werewolf away through the valiant efforts of everyone included, we aren’t any closer to figuring out who they were or where they came from.”

James sat up straighter. The metal hospital bed he was on protested the sudden movement with a loud screech, but he barely noticed it.

“We’ve tried following the wolf, of course, but as you’re aware, the swamp is hard to traverse on foot, especially one as infested with drowners as that one. It seems we have chosen too perfect of a spot…” Dumbledore gave them a small, rueful smile. “And now it truly bit us into the ankles, as I believe the Muggles say. By now, the werewolf must have disappeared well into the Scottish Highlands.”

“But the area had wards, didn't it?” James asked, frowning in thought. “Someone with a wand must have let them in.”

“They could have broken through the barrier before their own transformation,” Sirius remarked, pulling James’ attention to him.

“Willing entry? That’s also possible,” James mused.

The swamp was large enough that the werewolf could have been hiding there for hours before anyone could come across it. There was no telling if they had been there from the start or were brought in only after the sun had set, already transformed.

“Those are observant guesses,” Dumbledore interjected calmly. “It is interesting willing entry was only your second thought, as almost everyone seems to believe it was the werewolf’s aim to cause harm.”

“That’s always a werewolf's aim, Professor, but it might not have been the human’s.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. “A good thought, Mr. Potter, if a bit unorthodox. You both did seem quite knowledgeable about werewolves even during the task.” His tone was light, but the way his eyes bore into them was anything but. James fought not to tense up, careful to keep his expression unassuming.

Sirius’ face betrayed nothing, as unreadable as always. “We simply paid attention in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor.”

“And we can all count ourselves the luckier for it.” Dumbledore replied, smiling slightly, the strange look in his eyes melting away. “However, I didn’t come here to trade theories, as interesting as they might be. I was hoping you could tell me your side of the story. I’ve already spoken with the other champions, so your observations are the only ones missing.” 

He settled more comfortably into the chair and gestured with his hand. “If you could start from the top?”

After detailing the tournament to Dumbledore and one last check from Madam Pomfrey, they were finally free. It felt a bit surreal to realise that tomorrow they’d have to return to class, considering everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, but James had a feeling a little dose of normalcy and routine would do them good right now. Sirius needed time to heal, and there was also Quidditch to get back to, the next important match only a few weeks away.

Though it felt strange to trade one hospital wing for another, they made sure to stop by the infirmary to check on Remus. Madam Pomfrey barely let them walk through the doors before pestering them again with all the things they shouldn’t be doing for the next few days, as if she hadn't already told them the same earlier that day in the tent. She didn’t look like she really believed her words would have much effect the second time either, but James appreciated the effort.

Remus’ face lit up as they entered the room before the pleased expression slipped away into what looked like regret and guilt as they came in closer.

“After I woke up and Peter told me what happened… I…” His gaze turned downward, as if the shame was so great he couldn’t bear to even look at them. “It was, well, I was terrified that…” He faltered, unable to continue with the thought any further, but there was no need to. They all knew what he had been going to say.

“Even if it was,” James said after a moment, voice lowered so that no one would overhear, “it wouldn’t have been your fault.”

Remus shook his lowered head, brown hair obscuring his face. By habit, his hands went to pick at the abused sleeves of his jumper, pulling at another loose thread.

“It wouldn’t have, Remus,” James pressed, trying to catch Remus’ gaze, but to no avail. He was still staring at the string he was pulling from his sleeve as if it were the most important thing in the world.

“He’s right,” Sirius proclaimed, gesturing towards James with his broken hand, white bandage peeking from the sleeve of his robes as he moved his hand in a lazily graceful arch. He had taken the white sling that had secured his arm off his neck as soon as they’d left Madam Pomfrey’s tent, just as James had expected he would. 

Remus gave a sigh filled with the air of muted scepticism. “Either way, I’m almost glad I’m still stuck here. I imagine the werewolf is the only thing people are talking about.” His voice faded into a quiet whisper, almost disappearing in the chatter currently filling the infirmary. 

James bit into the inside of his lip, frowning. “I bet.”

There was also the fact that they’d have to be more careful with the next full moon now, and a few other ones after that too. Too many people had seen and heard what a werewolf sounded like, and James didn’t want to give them a chance to put two and two together. Though Madam Pomfrey tried to bring Remus into the hospital wing at irregular times for check-ups, easing possible suspicions over the strange regularity of his problem, there could be nothing done about him missing school when the full moons fell upon weekdays. 

Steps echoed around the room as Sirius crossed from the foot of Remus’ bed towards one of the large arched windows, peering outside.

“These people, predictable as always. They’ll find something new to talk about soon enough.”

Remus nodded a little in agreement, though the small smile that appeared on his face was tinged with bitterness. “No doubt. I just hope it’ll be something better this time. The whole thing was messed up… I don’t understand how anything like this could have happened. The Ministry was handling all the security measures; nothing should have gone through.”

Sirius scoffed, turning away from the window and carelessly leaning back against the wall with a small thud, crossing his arms. “Well, the Ministry doesn’t exactly have the best track record right now.”

Remus’ face clouded further, his gaze still lowered to his hands. James felt a pang in his heart. Sitting all small and hunched over like that in the hospital bed, Remus made for a pitiful sight.

He was about to try and say something to cheer him up a bit when his gaze snagged on the bed in the far corner of the room, its privacy curtains only half drawn and revealing the stone-still shape of Dirk Cresswell. Besides a third year in Slytherin robes surrounded by her loudly talking friends, he was the only other patient in the room.

“Did Pomfrey mention how long before she’s finished with the potion?” James asked, then nodded towards Cresswell’s bed upon seeing the various degrees of confusion on their faces. “She said it should be ready shortly after the winter holidays, didn’t she?”

“Madam Pomfrey didn’t exactly mention it, but I overheard her talking with Professor Sprout,” Remus said, finally looking up and letting go of his sleeves. He wetted his lips. “The mandrakes are gone.”

Sirius blinked in surprise and James felt himself do the same.

“What?” he voiced.

The sound of the other group laughing loudly  carried over to them, the laugh of the bed-ridden girl devolving into a small coughing fit. One of her friends quickly jumped to her in concern, helping her sit up straighter. Remus’ red-rimmed eyes cautiously flitted to them before he continued.

“Pomfrey said that the carnivorous plants set nearby ate them, but Sprout swore up and down that couldn’t be the case. Said she’d never make a stupid mistake like that in her life. But we all know that students have free access to the greenhouses during school hours. Anyone could have accidentally shifted the pots without knowing the consequences.”

James felt himself frown. While that could be the case — some first years did cause quite a few disasters when moving in the greenhouses, and some accidents were inevitable — this seemed a little too convenient.

“When did that happen?” Sirius asked, eyes slightly narrowed in thought.

Remus gave a sheepish shrug. “I wish I knew; they didn’t mention, and I was still pretty out of it from the… from my problem.” He grimaced a little at the awkward wording, eyes flitting to the group at the other side of the room. “But it sounded like they weren’t having that argument for the first time.”

James cursed under his breath, his gaze pulled to Cresswell’s unmoving form again. He thought about the Prewett brothers being so excited to finally see Dirk awake, about the Professors announcing to the Great Hall packed to the brim that the potion would be made soon, about the possibility that one of the people in that hall back then had been thinking about sabotaging the recovery, already scheming while the people around were filled with relief.  

The chatter from the other side of the room sounded even louder in the sudden lull in their conversation. 

James sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “How long until you can leave?” he settled on at the end.

Remus sagged back into the pillows, whatever energy he’d had before seemingly leaving him. “Probably after lunch. Pomfrey wanted to give me some more potions.” 

He looked vaguely ill just at the thought of it. Or at eating whatever strange mush Pomfrey claimed to be ‘nutritious lunch,’ or perhaps both.

“We’ll bring you some proper food at least,” James decided, then threw a critical look at Remus’ current bedside table. “Any chance you still have Exploding Snap stashed in there?”

Remus grinned.

As the start of new week rolled around, so came the onslaught of questions. The whole castle was still buzzing with talk about the latest task and the werewolf attack, as was to be expected. It had Remus constantly looking over his shoulder during the whole breakfast. 

“Stop squirming,” Sirius told him, kicking his feet under the table. “You’re being too conspicuous.” 

Remus’ head snapped back to them, quickly lowering down to his excuse of a breakfast .James eyed it warily across the table. A plain bread with two slices of cucumber on the side; Remus was truly living the life.

“They keep whispering,” Remus mumbled with an air of defeat, his back hunching even further. His eyes glanced to the side, yet the muscles in his neck spasmed, as if he was trying his hardest to not turn around again.

James glanced in the same direction, and a group of second-year Hufflepuffs scrambled to act like they hadn’t been staring at them and gossiping just a second ago, one of them accidentally banging her knee against the table with a loud pained noise. James suppressed an amused smirk and moved his attention back to Remus, ignoring the immediate chatter that erupted as soon as he moved his gaze away. 

“I know it can get annoying, but Sirius is right, mate. You’re drawing too much attention.”

“And you haven’t eaten anything either,” Peter chimed in worriedly, pointing towards Remus’ plate with one of his inky fingers.

“Just not feeling hungry…”

James shot a dubious look towards the plate. “No one would feel hungry looking at that.”

Still, James didn’t like that he had said the same thing last night at dinner. Remus’ transformation always took out a huge amount of energy from him, and while he usually looked relieved and less tense in the days after, right now it seemed like the opposite, his whole body strung tight. 

Combined with the sparse eating, James wouldn’t have been surprised if he suddenly fainted in the middle of a duel in Defence Against the Dark Arts or when walking up to the fifth floor for their first class of the day. Some of the vanishing steps between the second and fourth floor had recently moved again, resulting in many yelps and surprised yells echoing around the staircase throughout the week.

To Remus’ obvious relief, none of the teachers seemed willing to entertain any time for gossip. Professor Sprout had them make fresh batches of soothing salve for all the first years that had gotten stung by hornets that Peeves had let out in the second floor corridor. The greenhouse soon filled with the sound of dozens of pestles diligently crushing numerous kinds of dried herbs while Professor Sprout walked in between the work stations, making sure no one added too many peeled Shrivelfigs into the finalised mixture.

Professor McGonagall bluntly told them they were not there to exchange wild stories but to learn, and anyone who had any staggering insights about the tournament could write them into their diary instead. James had to cough into his fist to hide his chuckle, exchanging an amused grin with Sirius. 

Professor McGonagall’s sharp gaze zeroed in on them as she walked past to the chalkboard, noting their expressions with the accuracy of a hawk on a hunt. “Anything funny, Mr. Black?”

“Quite, Professor.” 

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes, but James could have sworn he had seen them glint with amusement before she did so.

“Surely you won’t mind telling the class about the Nightingale paradox then?”

“Not at all,” Sirius replied with ease, propping his banged-up arm on his bent-up leg. He breezed through the book-approved definition in seconds, then added a mention of an advanced concept connected to the paradox that had half the class only blinking in confusion.

“Correct, and put your leg down, Mr. Black.” 

Sirius lazily did so, though both he and Professor McGonagall knew he would inevitably put it right back up a few moments later. James couldn’t even count how many times he’d already heard a similar exchange. 

The classroom filled with the sound of clicking heels as Professor McGonagall resumed her way towards the chalkboard. “Though we won’t be dealing with the concept Mr. Black mentioned until the N.E.W.T Transfiguration classes next year, it’s good to keep it in mind even for those of you who are  hearing about it for the first time.” 

A quiet chatter ran through the room, but McGonagall silenced it with a simple lift of her eyebrows.

“Now, can anyone tell me if there were any wizards that opposed this definition?”

Some of the students shifted nervously. A few hands went up, the majority of them from Ravenclaw.

“Yes, Ms. Evans.”

“Eadwulf of Bebbanburg.”

“Correct. And why was he against it?”

Only three hands appeared in the air this time. McGonagall nodded at Evans to continue.

“He didn’t believe the Law of Equivalent Exchange always applied, because of the large famine that hit the area. The wizards were able to duplicate their food and redistribute it.” 

“Yes. However, as you all should know, he later changed his opinion on the idea as the famine continued on an even greater scale than before. However, his work became one of the fundamental sources for research in the field of Transfiguration limits.”

The class filled with the sounds of furious scribbling of quill on parchments as most of the class scrambled to jot everything down. 

Sirius only twirled the quill lightly in his hand, then put his foot up on the seat of James’ chair, bringing them closer together. 

James huffed out an amused breath and nudged the knee away, but not with enough force to actually remove it. Sirius swayed slightly from the movement, a playful smile tagging at the corners of his mouth.

“Though set some time ago, these limits are still considered valid and are one of the most important principles of Transfiguration as a whole. Does anyone know their name?” Professor McGonagall continued, multiple students evading her gaze. A row ahead, Peter seemed to disappear further down his chair with each asked question.

Clearly bored, Sirius put down his quill and instead rested his chin into the palm of his hand, leaning closer to peek over James’ shoulder. His propped-up knee dug into James’ elbow as he leaned in, jostling James’ hand and knocking his quill slightly off its course. As a result, some of the whiskers James was just adding onto Mrs. Norris ended up on Filch's boot. 

James gave a quiet hiss at the sabotage and poked towards Sirius’ face with the featherly end of his quill. Sirius grinned and quickly leaned back a safe distance, though he didn’t move his leg.

“Well?” Professor McGonagall pressed. “Anyone?”

James looked up from his doodling, glancing around the quiet classroom. A few desks ahead, Evans hesitated with her hand half-way up, then slowly raised it all the way. 

Eleanor Aitken, Ravenclaw prefect and the only other student with her hand also in the air, shot her a clearly competitive look over her shoulder. Evans herself seemed to straighten, her face hardening with resolve.

Professor McGonagall’s dark blue robes rustled as she gestured towards the first row of the desks. “Yes, Ms. Aitken.”

“The Five Principles of Changing Shapes, Professor.”

McGonagall shook her head, and Aitken’s face visibly soured, her shoulder slumping. “Those only concern the Transfiguration of nonliving objects.”

Evans’ hand seemed to rise even higher, prompting a look from Aitken.

“Limits of Sithric the Younger?” she voiced when McGonagall signalled her to answer.

“Also incorrect.” McGonagall's sharp eyes swept across the class from under her dark rimmed hat. 

James was just about to turn his attention back to shading Mrs. Norris’ paws when her sharp voice pulled his focus back to the class.

“Mr. Potter,“ she called out. “I’m assuming you know the answer?”

James shrugged a little, smiling as he looked up from his parchment. “I’m assuming the same, Professor. It’s the Five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law, isn’t it?”

Professor McGonagall didn’t bat an eye. “That’s correct. Ten points to Gryffindor.” 

His grin only widened when he noticed the outraged looks on Evans’ and Aitken’s faces.

The next day, Professor Slughorn led the whole class, consisting of Gryffindors and Slytherins, outside the castle and into the Forbidden Forest under the guise of ‘gathering ingredients,’ then promptly paled at the first unknown sound that echoed from in between the trees.

“May this serve as a reminder to you all,” he said after he ordered everyone to leave and follow him to the school grounds instead, “that the Forbidden Forest is always dangerous, no matter the hour.”

“I’m pretty sure that was an owl,” James heard one of the Slytherins whisper.

At least the unexpected time outside was made better by the fact that the sun was shining brightly with no cloud in sight, the thin layer of snow that had covered the hills around the school finally melting. Professor Slughorn seemed to enjoy the time in the fresh air the most, eagerly pointing this way or that at his favourite spots and places around the grounds, a spring to his step. 

He set off surprisingly quickly, and James noticed Remus looking much calmer at the end of the impromptu walk, no doubt thanks to the fact that the pace Slughorn had set hadn’t allowed for much chatter. Except for the moment Avery had tried to trip Peter on the slippery slope leading to Hagrid’s hut, the class passed without a hitch.

They had eaten their lunch in the inner courtyard, all silently agreeing that going to the Great Hall would only make Remus stressed again. For the first time in months, the sun felt warm on James’ skin, and he leaned back in his seat against the large paneless windows encircling the courtyard, resting one of his hands on the cold stone windowsill. 

He closed his eyes, letting the warmth seep into his body. 

There was still a slight dull ache in his side from the last task, but thanks to Madam Pomfrey, the dark violet bruises on his torso were already well on their way to turning yellow. The slight discomfort was easy to ignore.

“I swear Slughorn just makes his teaching plans up on the fly,” he heard Remus complain to the side.

“No doubt about that one,” Sirius chimed in from next to James, amusement colouring his voice.

“He even tried asking me and Peter about our favourite spots for picking mushrooms of all things,” Remus said incredulously, snorting. “Right, Pete?”

“Huh?” Peter said after a moment, then snickered. “Oh yeah, he did.” 

“If anything’s getting out of hand, it’s the topics for his essays,” James added, eyes still closed shut.

“Yes!” Remus and Peter immediately proclaimed loudly, righteous indignation clear in their voices, and James felt the slight smile playing on his lips grow wider. 

“What even is the newest one?” Remus continued hotly, showing more energy than he had the whole day. “How are we supposed to know which cauldrons are the best? Does he want us to test them all?”

“You know, when it comes to him,” Sirius said, his robes rustling slightly as he shifted in his seat, “I’m really not sure.”

They devolved into snickers, and James grinned. “At least we’ll know if someone ever tries to impersonate him with the Polyjuice Potion. The moment he starts making sense, it’s over.”

Sirius chuckled. “True.”

They stayed in comfortable silence for a moment, amusement lingering in the air. James shifted slightly to lay his head more comfortably on his arms, only slightly opening his eyes as he blinked.

The sun rays bathed the whole courtyard in a warm glow, the green of the grass looking particularly vibrant after months of only white and snow, the sky a shade of pale blue. 

Remus’ voice suddenly pierced the quiet.

“You alright, Pete? You’re really pale.”

James heard Peter let out a sheepish chuckle. “Ah, it’s nothing, Moony; just felt a bit dizzy for a moment.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

James blinked again, eyelids heavy and skin warm. His eyes snagged on Sirius, sitting with his back against the column next to him, bandaged hand spread on the windowsill, head tilted back against the stone. Their eyes met, and the corner of Sirius’ lips tilted up, his eyes fond.

James settled his head down with a small smile, content to rest until the next class. He’d barely closed his eyes again when there was a sudden eerie drawn-out sound behind him, making him snap his head around.

It was quiet but deep, almost vibrating, as if someone was plucking at a tight metal string, and under it, almost below the threshold of hearing, was the sound of something dragging , sliding, with a dizzying quickness and a wet squelching sound.

James was sure it wouldn’t normally be audible over all the noise that usually ruled in the halls. The only reason they were even noticing it now was because the whole courtyard was deserted, the four of them the only people around.

As quickly as the sound had appeared, it seemed to vanish, echoing out into nothing.

“What the hell was that?” James blurted out after a moment had passed and no other sound followed.

Remus’ eyes were wide with confusion, Peter’s face next to him pale in the afternoon sun, his back ramrod straight.

“Peeves maybe?” Sirius guessed, his eyes darting between the wall and the rest of the hallway where the sound had disappeared. “Could be one of his pranks.”

James nodded a little, in thought, ruffling the hair at the back of his neck. “Well damn. Imagine hearing that in the middle of the night.” 

Remus grimaced. “I’d rather not.”

Peter chuckled a little, his voice slightly choked. His eyes flitted to the nearby corridor then back, before he jumped to his feet, clutching his bag to his chest. “Maybe we should get going though? In case he comes back?”

Sirius barely gave it a thought before carelessly settling back against the column. “It’s not like it’ll surprise us the second time.” 

Peter didn’t look very reassured by his words. He squeezed his bag tighter, fingers digging into the material, and his mouth opened as if to say something, then promptly shut again, gaze lowered to his hands.

Remus gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder as he rose to his feet as well. “We can go ahead if you want to.”

Peter’s pleading eyes immediately flitted to James, who gave a small shrug, leaning his elbow against the windowsill.

“I’m with Padfoot, but you guys go ahead. We have Ancient Runes now anyways; it’s not like you can follow us there.”

Remus smiled a little. “And I’m glad every week that I didn’t choose an additional elective class like you two lunatics.”

“Shocking.” Sirius lifted his brows, face unimpressed. “Who else would babysit Wormtail now, right?”

Peter gave a sheepish chuckle while Remus shook his head, turning to leave.

To James it felt like he had barely closed his eyes and settled against the stone before Sirius was shaking his shoulder, telling him it was time to go already. He blinked back to reality, realising he must have fallen asleep at some point.

He wasn’t sure what it said about the quality of Peeves’ supposed prank or his own tolerance for dragonshit that he was able to sleep so soundly after hearing such a blood-curdling noise, but he didn’t really care enough to contemplate it further. He’d take any chance to catch up on sleep that he could, with the training in preparation for the upcoming match against Slytherin having taken up the last two mornings in a row. 

“If I let you enjoy your sweet sleep any longer, we’d be signing up for detention, free of charge,” Sirius told him with a smirk, and James huffed out an amused breath out of his nose as he got up, stretching.

When Sirius only stared at him, still sitting, James couldn’t help but chuckle. “You coming?”

Sirius pushed himself up to his feet with his healthy hand, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Leave it to James “Prongs” Potter to be sound asleep and then ready to run a mile a second after.”

“Perks of being the Quidditch captain I suppose. You make do.”

“Perks or a curse?”

James hummed in thought, tapping at his chin. “Honestly… might be both.”

“Sounds about right.” Sirius' face danced with amusement, his eyes glinting. “You know, I hear the Gryffindor Captain is pretty tough; you wouldn’t believe the drills he puts his team through.”

James nodded. “I sure wouldn’t.”

“Heard he’s the best in the whole castle though.” Sirius shrugged innocently. “So there might be some method to the madness.”

James rolled his eyes, lightly pushing Sirius’ healthy shoulder. “Oh shut up.” He couldn’t help the pleased smile that had spread across his lips even as he tried his best to hide it.

Heels clicking against stone suddenly sounded from somewhere to their left, the high-pitched voice of Rita Skeeter following it soon after, the expression on Sirius’ face freezing into hostility.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, there you are! It’s really hard to get a hold of you, you know?”

That’s by design , James thought darkly. 

They tried to continue down the corridor, but Rita intercepted them, all but jumping into their way with a smile that was too wide and still to be even a sliver of genuine.

“It really seems the hospitality of Hogwarts is overstated these days. Only a few were willing to tell me what your schedule is, can you believe that?” Her blond curls moved wildly as she shook her head, sounding partly out of breath. “That red-headed prefect had me climbing all the way to the top of the Astronomy Tower only to find out Professor Inkwell has been sick for the past week.” 

Nice one, Evans , James thought while Skeeter’s upper lip curled in obvious contempt. Then, as if with a flick of a wand, Rita’s expression smoothed out into a regretful smile. “So many obstacles are thrown my way when all I want to do is bring the truth to the unknowledgeable masses of the wizarding world.”

James didn’t even need to look to his side to know that Sirius was rolling his eyes.

“Is that what you’re doing?”

Rita blinked in surprise. “Pardon?”

“We’re really in a hurry, so—”

“It will only be a second,” she dismissed easily, intercepting their path again. “You don’t want to leave my readers hanging, do you? Besides, your school agreed with the Ministry that the Daily Prophet would have exclusive rights to interviews with the champions. It’s only right that you give me some of your time, isn’t it?”

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Sirius responded coldly, barely looking at her, which only seemed to make Skeeter more agitated. She looked like she didn’t care the slightest bit if they agreed or not.

“Surely a few words concerning the last task won’t hurt? Something as terrifying as an encounter with that terrible creature must have left an impression on you, no?”

Her sharp eyes jumped hungrily towards Sirius’ bandaged arm, as if she could see the broken hand through the layers of cotton and skin down to the very bone. Sirius’ gaze grew even colder, but Skeeter acted like she barely felt its sting. 

“It’s quite a tale already, as you can imagine. A group of students facing off against something like that on their own… Surely you must understand why everyone is so fascinated.” 

Her lips moved into a small, conspiratorial smile as she leaned forward. “Tell me, were you secretly hoping something like that would happen? Something to truly gain the attention of everyone?”

James swallowed down the sarcastic answer he felt rising in his throat, opting to let Sirius’ unimpressed expression do the talking.

“Well?” Skeeter pressed eagerly, swaying slightly forward on her feet as if she couldn’t help herself. 

Sirius only blankly stared at her. “No.”

James coughed and looked to the side, trying to suppress his amusement. He could see Sirius glance at him, the corner of his mouth curling into a subtle but satisfied smirk.

Across them, Skeeter seemed to wilt a little, the permanent smile etched on her face splintering around the edges, before she shook it off. 

“Interesting. It can of course be hard to admit to wanting fame, so I understand if you’re feeling quite shy.” 

Shy?!Right. James exchanged another amused look with Sirius. When he moved his attention back to Skeeter, he realised the glint in her eyes seemed to be back, the expression on her face pleased in a way that made him immediately uneasy. Within one blink and the next, the look disappeared, hidden behind another layer of false excitement and interest.

“I’m sure all my readers will be dying to know, what was it like standing face to face with a beast like that? Did you think about running and leaving everyone else there? Was the moment that thing came to light also the moment you regretted joining the tournament?”

“Not really. Now, we really need to get going already,” James rebuked firmly, pushing down his need to snap at her that the werewolf was a person, not some thing. “We have class in a few minutes.”

Skeeter’s eyebrow twitched. “That’s still enough time to squeeze in a few sentences, don’t you think? Surely you won’t just leave my readers hanging.”

Sirius scoffed derisively, turning away. “Maybe they should seek out other forms of entertainment then.”

“I heard you’ve been going around defending werewolves,” Skeeter called out desperately to their retreating backs, and James frowned, stopping mid-step.

While neither he nor Sirius hid their opinions, he was certain they hadn’t publicly addressed it in any way. In fact, all the random people trying to pry information out of them only made them want to not talk about it at all. Then how in Phoenix’s tears did she hear that? Or was she only guessing?

He caught Sirius’ gaze, his grey eyes narrowed slightly in obvious suspicion, before he looked over his shoulder towards Skeeter, putting on a wide smile. 

“Good.”

Even across the distance they’d put between them, James could clearly see how Skeeter’s satisfied smirk froze ever so slightly, the hungry look in her eyes dimming before it flamed back to life. 

Her right hand twitched, as if she forgot she wasn’t actually holding a quill and couldn’t write her thoughts down. James was honestly surprised she didn’t have her floating note-taker with her, but he supposed she twisted the truth around so much there wasn’t actually that much need for it.

“You’re confirming it then?” She took a step forward. “Have you always been a werewolf supporter?”

James pretended to think. “Hard to say.”

“Hard to say?”

“Have you always been a human supporter?”

“What has that to do with it?”

“Well,” James started slowly, with a grin that was anything but friendly, “werewolves are still people, aren’t they?”

Skeeter’s lips pulled into a derisive excuse of a smile. “I see. So no hard feelings, not even over your teammate, no” — her eyes flashed — “not even your best friend getting hurt so badly by one of them?”

Something about the way she said it rubbed him the wrong way, but James ignored it and simply shrugged. “That depends on whether that werewolf is an asshole or not.” 

It came out less vindictive than he felt. If the wolf had truly been forced to turn in the woods, there was nothing to be done. James meant what he’d told Remus; he’d watched too many of his transformations and fought with his turned form way too many times to think there was more than a small sliver of human consciousness in wolves when the moon went up. The scratches and bruises Remus bestowed upon them every month were proof of that. 

But if the wolf had attacked them voluntarily, and James ever met him again…

“Is that all?” Sirius asked, his voice bored.

Skeeter’s smile stayed firmly on, though it gained a sharp edge. “For now.”

Yeah, yeah, very ominous, James thought, not sparing her another glance. 

He turned his back to her, eager to get away from her and her annoying questions as soon as possible, falling in step with Sirius. They were barely passing by one of the suits of armour at the end of the corridor when the sound of quill furiously scratching on parchment carried over to them.