Proving Me Wrong

PROVING ME WRONG

LAST CHAPTER:-

Since this realisation, 3 weeks ago today, Lily had been sure that any day now, James Potter was going to tell someone, and destroy what little normality she had left.

Pulling herself back to the present, Lily decided she had to worry about one thing at a time, so...

"How the bloody hell am I going to get down from here?"

CHAPTER 11

"Knowledge"

James Potter looked up from his toast and scanned the length of the Gryffindor table.

"Where's...?" he began, making Remus pale beside him and Peter choke on his kippers. James's eyes came to rest on the empty space opposite him and he frowned. After a moment, his face relaxed and he stretched across the table to grab a jar from beside the abandoned bowl of cereal.

"The marmalade," James murmured, raising it up a little to show his friends that he had found it. Dropping his head, he returned to his food, and proceeded to spread liberal amounts of the lemon jelly onto his toast.

Remus released a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding and Peter gave a little giggle of relief. They gave each other a look that said, "Merlin's beard, that was close." The two boys had thought for a minute that James was going to enquire about Sirius's absence, and neither of them had managed to think up a convincing excuse.

"So, Prongs, when's your next training session?"

"Tonight. We need to train all together with the new beater, now that we've lost Tonks."

Remus glanced up to the top of the table where there sat a third year girl looking very ill indeed. She currently had sickly pale skin, a bulbous runny nose and wispy brown hair. That is to say, currently.

"Are you all right?" a little red haired boy next to her asked anxiously. "You should go to the Hospital Wing. I would take you but I don't know where it is yet."

Tonks scrunched up her face and a second later her skin was rosy, her hair blonde and curly, and her button nose was perfectly dry. The first year's knife and fork fell onto the table with a clatter. He stared at her with his mouth slightly agape.

"Yes, I'm fine thanks, Bill," replied Tonks looking downcast, "I've got Transfiguration first thing, that's all. I was hoping to skive off, but McGonagall isn't that thick."

She turned quickly to look at Remus, her nose now the size of a small turnip and ears that rivalled those of an elephant. She said jokingly, "Wotcher, Remus! You wouldn't be eavesdropping by any chance?" she flapped her elephantine ears, hitting Bill in this face ("Oops! Sorry Bill!") "Look what you've done Lupin, you nosy parker!" She wiggled her huge nose and laughed at her reflection in the golden jug of pumpkin juice.

Chuckling, Remus answered, "The Head Boy and I were just discussing your replacement on the squad."

At this, Tonks's face turned sour and with another scrunch of her features someone else was now sitting in her seat: a young man of about nineteen, with platinum blonde hair that was slicked back, steely grey eyes and a pale complexion.

"Professor," she drawled, making the people around her snort with amusement into their breakfast, "It is completely unjust to permit a metamorphmagus to play quidditch. It could match its appearance to a member of an opposing team and sabotage their play. It is giving Gryffindor an unfair advantage, and you must remove it from the squad. If you do not, I shall write to my father."

With one last sneer at those around her, she changed her appearance again: back to rosy, curly and blonde.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed with disgust, some people still applauding her performance, "I hate that Lucius Malfoy! I'm so glad he's left. He was just hacked off with me because I hit him in the face with my club last year and knocked out his front teeth."

There was a roar of laughter from the Gryffindors at this.

"What?" asked Tonks defensively, "It was an accident, and they did grow back. It's not like I meant to knock his teeth out..."

Amongst her chortling housemates she took a sip of pumpkin juice, casting annoyed looks, seemingly offended. A few seconds passed, and with a sheepish smile she finished, "I was aiming for his nose."

The fresh bout of hysterics this induced was drowned out by the sound of flapping wings as hundreds of owls soared through the rafters, carrying the morning post.

James's own owl landed gracefully onto his shoulder with a letter clutched in his beak.

"Hey Loki," spoke James quietly, a small smile appearing on his face. He removed the owl of his burden and offered him a slice of his toast, which Loki accepted gratefully. James opened the envelope and read the piece of parchment within it.

James,

As you know, it is almost October and we haven't received any letters yet concerning your misbehaviour at school. I believe that's a first. Your mother and I are very proud of you, but also a bit concerned. We did, of course, expect your Head Boy duties to make you mature somewhat, but not this much. Is everything all right, son?

Your mother seems to think that something has happened at school to make you act differently. She's gotten this silly idea into her head that it's all because of a girl. Is it? I've told her it's just 'growing up', but she won't listen to me, never does.

Congratulations again on a good start to the year, try to keep it up, but if you don't, at least we know you're back to normal.

Love Mum and Dad

P.S. Good luck with quidditch, how's the beater situation fairing?

P.P.S. Your mother says to tell this 'mystery lady' to continue doing whatever it is she's doing, because it's working wonders.

James finished reading. Merlin, he thought, Mum and Dad aren't even here and they think I'm acting funny. So much for a 'mystery lady' though, he gave a snort, causing Remus to look up from his Daily Prophet and catch the look of resentment on James's face.

Tell her to continue doing whatever it is she's doing? he thought with extreme sarcasm. Oh yeah, that'll be easy... 'Sorry, erm... Evans? If it's not too much to ask, could you please continue to get battered when you go home, because my mother says it's "working wonders!"'

Somewhere far away, a bell rang, signalling the beginning of classes. "You coming James? Our bags are still in the common room, remember?" spoke Remus.

James stood up, and after bidding goodbye to Loki he left the Great Hall with Remus and Peter, a piece of parchment clenched in his fist.

Only after the portrait had closed behind him and Remus, did James ask, "Where's Peter gone?"

Remus shrugged his shoulders, not too concerned. Peter had started to disappear to places unknown during break and lunchtimes, returning a few minutes later. At the weekends he could vanish for hours at a time. He had told them a week ago that it was for 'remedial charms', but James had been so distant lately that he probably didn't hear it.

James picked up two schoolbags from in front of the fireplace, throwing one to Remus. He caught it deftly, even though it was packed full of books.

After putting the straps around his shoulders, James slumped into the nearest armchair; it was grey and not very old, but already worn-out, with stuffing coming out in places. Remus knew it wasn't the books in James's bag that was weighing him down. Ignoring his urge to go on to Defence Against the Dark Arts, (as they were going to be studying but disappointingly not practicing the Patronus charm today) Remus chose a sofa opposite James and sat down.

They sat in silence, Remus trying to catch James's eye, James trying to avoid it.

Remus spoke first. "A knut for your thoughts?" he smiled.

There came no reply from the black-haired young man.

"Go on then, a sickle?" he was trying to make James laugh, even if it meant he was laughing at him. But that was usually Sirius's job, cheering James up. It suited Sirius fine because...well, James never really needed cheering up. Before now, that is.

James turned his head away from Remus to stare into the dying embers.

"I'm going against my better judgement here but- a galleon? A galleon for your thoughts, James Potter? I'm not even sure I want to know what your thinking anymore, if it's going to cost me that much. You could be thinking about...butterflies for all I-"

A swift look from James ceased Remus's babbling and assured him that he was most definitely not thinking about butterflies.

If Sirius finds out it isn't Evans behind this, then at least I can tell him to count out butterflies as well, Remus thought angrily, mentally slapping himself.

He looked over at James, but his gaze had already reverted back to the fireplace.

"James, listen. We know there's something you're not telling us, me, Peter and Sirius. We don't know what's wrong, except that it's seriously messed you up. I thought you would have learnt from me that keeping secrets doesn't work. I don't want to think about what would have happened if you three hadn't realised what I was. I would probably be dead." James's jaw clenched.

"But unlike me, we can't find out by looking through some books, you have to tell us what's wrong." Remus paused. "I haven't told the others this... but I don't think there's anything wrong with you," James gave Remus a sharp, searching look.

Meeting James's gaze, he continued evenly, "I think it's someone else."

This took James aback. He didn't want Remus know that he was right, so he masked his alarm with an expression of mild incredulity.

"What makes you think that, Moony?"

This will take a while, thought Remus, his hopes of getting to class at a decent time out the window at this point.

He sighed, and then spoke in a measured tone, "The way I see it is; you were fine on our first day back; having a laugh, hexing Sniv-Snape on the train, getting into a fight with Evans, everything was as it should be. Later on, you went to the party, got a bit drunk, snogged Dorcas Meadows and only went to breakfast next morning because you wanted to see how the itching curse was working on Evans. Got there, Evans didn't seem to be itching at all, she did glare at us a few times, but that is to be expected since, well...she hates us. Anyway, you were a bit disappointed but hoped to see results by the end of the day. So in charms; after Evans compared Padfoot's brain to the size of an Every Flavour Bean, we knew something was wrong. I mean- she was still acting normal. Your spell hadn't worked, first time ever I think. You brushed it off, and went to meet some Ravenclaw in the astronomy tower, missed the start of dinner and- just out of interest, who was it?"

James racked his brains, "Oh, it was the Irish one, Moran, brilliant chaser."

Remus had seen Moran at dinner that day, but he let it go. James would just smooth talk his way out of it; there wasn't really much point in arguing.

Raising his eyebrows ever so slightly, Remus said, "Right. Well, after dinner, you went to your common room, the rest of us came here, and we didn't see you until the Tuesday morning. Here's where it gets tricky; Tuesday morning, you arrive in the Great Hall looking like the living dead, you don't speak, you don't eat. Prongs, Snape dropped a cauldron on his foot in potions and you didn't even laugh. Padfoot was howling, so was I. But...you didn't even notice. In transfiguration, you told McGonagall that you hadn't since Evans since Monday, and she asked if you went to look for her, stupid question really. But went you said 'no', McGonagall went strange and gave you an odd look. At lunch, you apologise to Gideon Prewett, go red with embarrassment, and stutter, all in the space of about thirty seconds. Merlin, even Wormtail knew something was amiss. You leave lunch early, to do 'transfiguration' homework, and...when thinking about it now, I said you were acting strange before you left the Great Hall," he shook his head, frowning, "but it was nothing... compared to what you were like when we saw you later."

He sighed again, and continued in a business-like tone, "So that means that something must have happened between six o'clock on the Monday evening and 8 o'clock on Tuesday morning. And something else happened after you left the Great Hall on Tuesday afternoon, 'cause it just put you over the edge." He leant forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. James was slouched in the chair, staring resolutely at the floor.

"Now, how does this show that there's someone else involved? Simply, because I know you James. If you had a problem as big as this one seems, you would tell one of us. You may think that by keeping quiet you're protecting this person, but I know different. Nothing good can come of this, look what it's done to you, and it'll get worse, I know."

James continued to ignore him, but Remus knew he was listening. He wanted to give James sometime to think about all that he had said, and so he took out a very thick textbook, The Dark Forces: An Advanced Guide to Self-Protection; perhaps he could read up on the Patronus charm instead, even though he already knew the passage off by heart.

They sat like that for almost twenty minutes, Remus; re-reading chapter eighteen for the fifth time, turning a page every so often, and James; staring at the floor, lost in thought.

"Do you ever wish there were some things you didn't know, Remus?"

Remus's head snapped up to see a once in a lifetime sight: James Potter, head in hands, looking as thought the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and he was about to crumble beneath it.

At the moment he was about to respond, Sirius Black burst into the common room with an insane grin on his face. He bounced over to the fireplace, picked up his schoolbag, and only then spotted Remus with the huge book open in his lap.

"Moony! What are you doing here?"

"P-"

What he meant to say was, "Prongs is here too," but Sirius cut him off.

"I've done it! It's sorted!" he exclaimed, jumping onto the sofa beside Remus.

Sirius sat back and sighed happily; ignoring the elbows in the ribs he kept getting from Remus and the werewolf's mutterings of, "Shut up, you idiot, he's here."

He surveyed the room, passionately humming the Puddlemere United song 'Beat back those Bludgers Boys, and Chuck that Quaffle Over Here.'

When he arrived at 'chuck' however, the note caught in his throat when he realised what, or to be exact, who, was sitting in the mouldy grey chair with the stuffing coming out.

James Potter lifted his head from his hands and in a suspicious tone asked,

"Done what?"

Remus closed the textbook, ignoring the impulse to beat Sirius around the head with it.