Ring around Redemption

James had never run so fast in his life.

When he was younger, he thought of speed as something that only happened with a broom between his legs. Speed was flying; speed was soaring; speed was lifting away from the ground and racing away from homework and detentions and Sirius's moods and even Lily because sometimes it got a little difficult to stay in love with her when she was glaring at him all the time. It was exhilarating euphoria, and every time he kicked off, he knew he was never going to want to come back down. He was never going to want it to end.

James wanted so badly for this to be over that he almost choked on the air whizzing by him.

With arms pumping, feet slipping on the muddy ground, heart bruising the inside of his chest, James ran faster than he thought was allowed. Blood was pounding in his ears, but he could still hear the noises of the forest beyond, animals whispering in their own tongues, sometimes crying out for food or want of a mate. He was quickly putting distance between himself and the castle, but he could still hear the dim sound of laughter, and if he'd had time, he would have taken a moment to shriek back at all of them that it wasn't fucking funny.

It was a warm, muggy night, moisture making everything hazy from that afternoon's rainfall. Humidity clung to his skin, making him more aware of the sweat gathering beneath his arms and between his shoulder blades. The night was bright with the stars staring down at him. The moon was full.

He slipped again and nearly toppled, but he managed to pull himself upright through the sheer force of his will, cursing loudly. He kept his eyes straight ahead, searching in vain for the sight of a boy-shadow sulking or even a twisted body knocked out cold. He wouldn't have been the least bit surprised in consideration of the fact that that's what the bloody tree was meant to do: whomp. But James could make out nothing out of the ordinary, which probably meant that the situation was worse than he had been hoping for. Typical.

His eyes burned into the willow as if it had eyes to look back at him, to challenge him in what he was trying to do. He swallowed as the tree began to stir, creaking in vexation at this new disturbance. The branches moved slowly, taunting him, and James threw himself forward, whipping his wand out of his back pocket and preparing for war. When the tree made a particularly nasty swipe at a passing bird, instantly breaking its spine and sending it straight to dirt, James's stomach performed a nasty gymnastic move. He had never wanted Peter so badly in his life because Peter could do the one thing no one else could: get to the damn knot without dying.

The willow seized up, bringing itself to attention and recognizing the threat that was James Potter on a Mission. The ends of the branches seemed to sharpen, glinting like razors under the moonlight. It was going to fight to protect its secrets.

James wondered if maybe it recognized him somehow. He knew that that would probably make the tree all the more determined to put him off. It could hardly appreciate being thwarted monthly.

"Come and get me, bastard," James hissed, the tip of his wand flaring with the beginnings of a Freezing Charm. "Just try."

The tree practically uprooted itself in the attempt to slaughter him. James cast charms and hexes wildly, no longer caring about its value to the school or importance to Remus. The tree was standing in between him and his Mission, and damned if he was going to let misplaced affection for a murderous piece of foliage get in his way. He used a Slashing Hex to cut through a particularly large branch that was threatening to decapitate him, leaping up to avoid another that wanted to knock his feet out from underneath him. But he couldn't miss the one aimed at his lower back. It sent him careening into the dirt, the impact cracking the left lens of his glasses.

He coughed and struggled to breathe again, scrambling to his feet and trying to keep his eyes sharp. He dodged again and again, jumping and hexing and soon bleeding in several places and wheezing with every breath, all the while trying to get closer to the heart of the monster. At one point, he stepped on the bird, crushing it and smearing red over the grass. He thought of the Divination professor he'd never had but heard stories about with his morbid affection for death omens. James pushed it out of his mind ferociously.

Finally, he had maneuvered close enough to reach the knot with an infinitely stupid, flying leap. The tree caught him around the ankle, nearly yanking him back, but James twisted, jabbing his wand where he thought the knot might be, praying that he was hitting the right spot. His nails scraped into the dirt, slowing himself down as the tree began to freeze. At last, almost as if in slow motion, it stopped, but James didn't even have a moment to spare to feel triumphant.

His ankle was still trapped. He grabbed a tree root to give him counter weight and pulled forward, forcibly extricating boy limb from tree limb and raking his skin in the process. He swore again, dragging himself to the entrance of the tunnel and continuing his mad dash straight down to hell. In a mad, unguarded moment that must have hit him thanks to his extreme exhaustion after taking on the bloody willow, he found himself envious of stupid, sodding Sirius, who was faster on four legs, and again of Peter, who could ride on his back. Only James's form was too big to make it through.

But the only one capable of doing this right now was James because Peter was scared and Sirius was an idiot and Remus was at the other end.

"Snape!" James bellowed, dragging himself forward by his elbows. "If you can hear me, you'd better fucking turn around!" Normally, he'd accompany the order with a death threat, but thanks to Sirius's boundless stupidity, James bit his tongue. He thought of blood again but kept moving forward. "Snape!"

He slowed for a second but didn't stop, praying even though he didn't believe in God. James had thought it was a load of bollocks before, but now, only hearing the sound of his panting and his heart all put exploding inside his body, James knew it was a load of bollocks.

"Damn it, Snape," James hissed, and against all sense of reason and physical capability, he moved faster.

Nevertheless, a small form of eternity had passed before he finally reached the end of the tunnel. Without taking time to hold his breath in preparation for the dust, James burst into the Shack, screaming again. "Snape! Where are you?"

He didn't have to wait for the answer. He'd scarcely finished his sentence before he heard the wolf (who was still Remus but not Remus enough) snarling, throwing his own body against the walls. He'd grown accustomed to being let out to run during the full moon. He was not taking kindly to being caged.

"Shit," James hissed, tightening a grip on his wand. There were things that could be done against werewolves, but most spells had been created with the aim to severely hurt if not kill. They should have thought of doing something about that, but then again they'd never expected to encounter the wolf in human form. But Snape was in there somewhere, and James could hardly save him without opposable thumbs.

"When I am through saving your arse, I am going to hand it to you on a platter emblazoned with a thousand Gryffindor crests," James threatened vaguely and headed up the stairs. He didn't fancy going up there, but that's where the wolf was. It was best to be sure Remus couldn't get out so that James could search the rest of the Shack until he found Snape cowering in a corner, sobbing like a girl with his trousers thoroughly pissed. After all, not even Snape was dumb enough to actually go towards the frightening, deadly howls.

James finished climbing the stairs to the second floor, his eyes already seeking out the room Remus would be shut into. He would have shut the door behind him when he arrived, as always. James expected that he would find Snape cowering outside the door or hiding in one of the other rooms, shaking with terror at the werewolf's terrifying howl.

However, when he reached the top, he nearly fell back down them again. The door to the room was wide open, and James knew Remus never, ever failed to shut it.

Someone else had to have opened it.

James sprang forward, leaping into the room as if he had wings on his feet and not a piece of brain left in his school. His hands acted on their own accord, slamming into the doorframe and holding him there, preventing him from entering. He didn't have to look very long at all to find what he didn't want to be looking for.

A crumpled, black form writhed on the ground, moving too much to be a bedsheet as he wanted so badly to hope. He knew in an instant that it had not been the wolf's body crashing into the walls: Snape had been thrown.

A snarl filled his ears that almost made his skin jump right off his bones. James looked up in slow panic, making out the back of the beast's immense form and recognizing that the wolf had scented him. It turned quickly and crouched low, teeth bared and eyes the same color as Remus Lupin's, but too feral to belong to the boy with the sugar addiction and an unhealthy relationship with books. Its tail fluffed in an act of bizarre aggression, and it would have made James laugh if he hadn't been completely scared out of his wits. Hackles raised, growls making his head swim, and jaws gnashing, it took James a long few seconds to realize that the damn thing was ready to spring.

"Immobulous!" James cried, his voice entirely too high for his moment of heroism. He poured everything he had into the spell, hoping against all reason that the charm would work. He nearly danced with relief when he saw the wolf freeze in place, but he knew, either from instinct or some long-forgotten Defense footnote, that it wouldn't last long.

James shuddered but pushed himself forward, his knees skidding against the ground as he sank to Snape's side. He felt splinters work their way into his flesh through his denims, and he had to fight the urge to do the same to Snape's face. He yanked on Snape's arm, rolling him over and being careful not to touch any skin.

"Oh, God. Potter," Snape snarled with an unusual amount of vehemence, even for him. "Come to witness yours and Black's triumph?"

James swallowed the revulsion at the intimation that he would have ever stood with Sirius on this. "You are the stupidest creature ever born," James informed him furiously, "and I am going to kill you when I am done saving your neck."

Snape gave him a look of unrestrained bewilderment. It looked very odd beneath his greasy bangs. "What the--"

"No time," James snapped because there really wasn't any. "That spell won't hold forever. On your feet; let's go!"

But Snape didn't get to his feet. He just stared at the ceiling, veins bulging in his neck thanks to his clenched jaw, white skin stretched across bone. James had no idea what a person looked like under the Cruciatus Curse, but he was willing to bet that now he had an idea.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning over and feeling Snape's arm for the break. "He slammed you into the wall hard, didn't he? Can you tell me what you bro-- No, never mind. I'll just levitate you out of here. Mob--"

"Potter you incredible..." Snape began, trailing off as a startlingly strong jolt coursed through his body. He gasped for breath several times, and James worried about punctured or collapsed lungs. "That... creature didn't break any bones." He grimaced and moaned in a kind of agony that made James's skin crawl. "They are breaking by themselves."

James stared, thoroughly at a loss. He shook his head, preparing to ask Snape just how hard he'd hit his head and if he could kindly shut up now so that he could get on with the heroics. That is, until he saw Snape's leg.

It was a mangled mess. His trousers were ripped to shreds around his calf, and his skin wasn't much better off. It looked as though it had been struck repeatedly by a spiked Bludger. Through the mess of blood and torn flesh, James swore he saw bone, and, in a moment of adrenaline-fused insight, teeth marks.

He whirled around to look at the wolf, paying no attention to how well the charm was holding up and staring directly at his teeth. They were stained with blood.

Snape screamed.

"No," James whispered hoarsely, everything coming together in sharp, disgusting clarity. "No, no, ohshitohgodohfuck, no."

"I think it's best if we move past denial, Potter," Snape hissed, his voice poisonous. "Maybe you knew nothing about your idiot friend's plot to murder me, but don't act as if you care about what's happened to me."

James shook his head, certain that he'd somehow found a way to drown on dry land. "No, Sirius wouldn't... He never thought you'd get past the Willow. Oh, Christ, Snape--"

"If you and he managed to get past the tree from hell, Black should have known I'd be able to do it," Snape informed him, his voice tight but still dripping with unmistakable entitlement. James wanted to hit him for it, but he couldn't so he waved his hands about as if swatting away a thousand insects.

"He doesn't think," James said, wildly trying to excuse it when he knew there was no excuse.

Snape just looked at him for a moment, and James had a sinking suspicion he would not mind ripping James's throat out, just as soon as he was capable of it. Still, he did not impart this vocally, which was something like a comfort. "Do not for a moment think that I am trying to be noble," Snape told him acidly, his body arching. "But that spell will wear off soon. You should go."

"No," James said clearly, even as he wondered what the hell he was playing at. "No. I can... I can fix this, I--"

Snape screamed again, throwing himself away from James. He seized up on his knees and elbows, maybe trying to get to his feet. But a moment later he slammed his fists into the ground and then flipped over, his spine meeting the floor with a sickening crack. He dragged his fingernails across the floorboards and one of them snapped off completely, shooting off into the black and leaving bloody, raw skin behind.

"You cannot fix this, Potter," Snape spat, his voice rough and strangled. "You're about ten minutes too late to fix anything."

Out of the corner of his eye, James caught a movement from the other end of the room. The charm was wearing off. The wolf had twitched. He shook his head violently, refusing to believe. "Dumbledore--"

"Will tell you it's too late!" Snape shouted, eyes boring into James's with unbridled hatred. James had always assumed Snape held nothing back in their confrontations, and the epiphany that this moment was Snape with all his rage laid bare left him feeling lightheaded. For the first time, Snape scared him, and it wasn't due to what he was becoming. "I can feel it, burning my veins, turning everything inside out." He trembled, revolted he'd even revealed that much. "If I don't die of it, I would like nothing more than to tear the flesh off your bones, Potter, so will you get out!"

James saw the twitch of the wolf turn into a spasm. Hating himself for cowardice he wasn't accustomed to feeling but couldn't help, James threw himself to his feet and fled from the room, slamming the door behind him. It echoed like an accusation underneath Snape's screams and the sudden return of the wolf's howling. Moving automatically, he kept moving backwards after the door was closed, and a moment later, there was only air underneath his foot. He went tumbling down the stairs, end over end. Dust flew into his eyes and splinters worked their way into his body at every available opportunity. He tasted blood in his mouth and when he landed, his wrist elicited a disgusting noise that assured him it was broken or at least badly sprained. He didn't curse.

He lay there, staring up at the top of the stairs. He distantly noticed that he was shaking even though he wasn't cold. James suddenly longed for his parents for the first time in years. They were blessed with the ability to fix everything even when things were broken beyond repair. He wanted them or he wanted to be like them, because maybe then, things would be different.

He heard a noise that started far off and gradually got closer. Somebody was coming, then. Somebody had been told. He thought about meeting them, but he thought maybe he was paralyzed with... not fear, but something else. He couldn't be sure what the something else was, but he had a strong feeling it was guilt. He hated himself for it intensely.

Finally, there was an explosion of noise and shouting. It wasn't long before he was seized by the shoulders and hauled to his feet. He found himself staring into eyes that usually twinkled down at him with amusement behind half-moon spectacles. The only spark in Albus Dumbledore's eyes that night was pure fear.

"James, what happened?" he asked in a fierce whisper, not asking if James was all right, for which he was exceedingly grateful. When the answer failed to come immediately, Dumbledore shook him, and James's limbs flailed as if all mobility had been stolen from him with a botched healing charm. "James, focus! I need to know what's happened!"

Suddenly, it all sunk in. This was all real. It was so real, James thought nothing would ever be all right again. How could he ever find anything funny after this?

He dimly remembered reading about Dementors sucking all of the joy from the places they went, and he thought this must be exactly what it felt like. Hopeless, agonized, and certain that nothing good could ever, ever happen again. Even if Lily Evans looked at him with something other than exasperation and contempt, it wouldn't matter. Everything would be soiled by this memory.

James shook even harder. "I didn't run fast enough," he said in a very small voice, a weight like a hippogriff settling over his chest.

Dumbledore, never a man who needed things spelled out for him, looked as if James had just broken Fawkes's neck in front of his eyes. His bony fingers dug into James's arms, leaving bruises over bruises. "No," he whispered, knowing it was true.

"I tried," James insisted, knowing that he sounded entirely too like his eleven-year-old self bungling the Levitation Charm. "I promise. I didn't... I didn't want..." He was now quaking so hard that his knees gave way, but Dumbledore did not let him fall.

"James," he whispered thickly, his bushy eyebrows knitting together painfully. "I know. I know you tried."

A number of things happened after that, but James had no idea what they were. He shut down for a moment, trying to make sense of things while refusing to accept certain aspects of the situation. He didn't want to think about the permanence of the condition or that Remus was in danger now and that his friend was going to hate himself with renewed force once he found out what had happened. He didn't even want to think about Sirius now, but all of these things were very hard for him to avoid.

James blinked and realized he'd been set down. He blinked again and saw emerald everywhere, felt his cheek resting against light, smooth fabric and soft hands pushing his hair back. He was on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest, and his head resting on his Head of House's lap. "Oh, Potter."

He knew that he was entirely too old to be in this position and that he shouldn't allow it, but he couldn't bring himself to move. It wasn't making him feel better, not yet, but he thought maybe if he held there long enough, it might. He wanted to stay there for hours, but something churning in his stomach led him to believe that he would have to move very soon.

"I tried," James repeated, because McGonagall hadn't heard, and they had to know that he had wanted to stop all of this. "I swear, I--"

"Quiet, Potter," McGonagall instructed, her voice entirely too strange and soothing for him to bear. "Just hush. I... Albus will know what to do," she said, her shock making her forget to whom she was speaking. "It's going to be--"

"Don't," James interrupted harshly. "Don't say...."

Suddenly, James threw himself away from McGonagall, trying to stand and trying not to crawl. He wound up somewhere in-between. He staggered into another room, loathing the lack of doors and enchanted windows of the Shack, and was vilely sick all over the floor. It came out of his nose as well, and for a panicked moment he couldn't breathe, bringing on violent coughs. Even after it was all cleared, he kept retching, dry heaves wrenching through his torso as if they had some reason to be terribly upset with him.

He closed his mouth and forced his muscles to stop spasming. His eyes followed in short order, and it didn't take long for James to realize that the burning in the back of his throat had little to do with the bile that had ripped apart his esophagus.

It wasn't as if none of them ever cried. Peter had cried for the first few weeks at Hogwarts, missing his parents. James and Sirius had teased him horribly, and Remus had finally told them to stop it with a look that expressly informed them that he'd heard their poorly concealed midnight sniffles as well. Sirius had gotten overconfident with his Animagi studies at one point and gotten stuck between. It had been awful, and Sirius had cried then, in pain and utterly terrified that he'd be stuck that way. It had only lasted about thirty seconds, but it had taken James and Peter much longer to calm him down. Sirius had said that Remus cried when they'd told him about the Animagi stuff. He'd found Remus in the bathroom at four in the morning, huddled in the shower stall fully clothed and without the water. And James knew that Sirius had made it better because as thoughtless and stupid and dangerous as Sirius could be, he cared about Remus and the rest of them with enough intense, blazing loyalty that it was almost frightening.

Now James was on his hands and knees in the Shrieking Shack, crying because Sirius had just ruined Remus's life. After everything they'd done to help him, all the trouble they'd gone through to keep their secrets, all the hand-holding with Peter, and all the nights wasted researching, Sirius had ruined it all. He'd done it like he ruined everything: thoughtlessly, stupidly, dangerously. James's shoulders shook, and he wondered why he was so surprised.

Hands wound around his shoulders and pulled him into yet another embrace. James was revolted that McGonagall had found him like this and tried to pull away.

"Stop, Potter," McGonagall said, her voice level and oddly reassuring. "Stop it this minute." She paused, taking a deep breath. "We know you did your best. You did all you could. Pettigrew came and got us, and you went to try and stop it yourself. Which was reckless and dangerous of course, but... the right thing. You did the right thing."

But he hadn't done it fast enough, James thought wretchedly. He hadn't been good enough for the first time in what felt like his entire life, and now Remus was exposed and Severus Snape was a werewolf.

He was going to murder Sirius.