Music of the Night

Music of the Night

Chapter 7: The Inevitable Victor

James hustled quickly through the corridors, nearly colliding into the thin, yet still existent trickle of students that was thinning in the hallways. Of course, the fact that his sense of direction was presently a bit skewed wasn't exceptionally surprising; he was always like this whenever he was on the more restless side...Not that he ever told anyone that or allowed it to become even moderately visible. When his hands would start twitching slightly, he always stuffed them into his pockets, and his toes would do a little tap-dance in his shoes. No one would ever notice, and the evidence was well concealed, but being as this was mildly painful, James did not at all like it when he was nervous.

But then again, when he really thought about it, what was there to be nervous about? He was Head Boy, he was going to his first meeting with Head Girl, and that was that.

So what if she scared the bejeezus out of him?

Scared him? Nah. Maybe unsettled him. Yeah. That was more like it.

But why though? It wasn't because she hated him; he was certainly able to handle grudges inflicted in his direction. He had, after all, pranked nearly all of Slytherin House and then some by the ripe old age of thirteen.

He scratched the back of his head in agitation. Why do you hate me, Lily?

The incline of the long stone corridors began to get a bit steeper as he neared the corridor that held the antique oak library doors. He coughed slightly and then quirked the corners of his mouth upward wryly. I don't hate you, Mr. Potter. I merely regard you with an intense dislike.

Yup, that was it. That's exactly what she would say. Interesting though, James realized with surprise, that he was even somewhat able to predict her responses to questions that he hadn't even asked yet. He supposed that was a good thing; meetings would be sure to pass much more breezily if he would be able to have a fair idea of what she would deem to be appropriate topics of conversation so that he could avoid touching upon subjects that she would consider crude or juvenile... or worse, prat-like.

I am not a prat. I am not a prat. Eh, who was he kidding anyway? He most certainly was a prat.

He winced. Real mature there, Potter. That'll win you over into her good book most definitely.

His legs finally stopped in front of the doors to the library. He wished he could keep on walking straight onward; the painting of that giant bowl of fruit was nearby and at times like these, a nice slab of roast beef could be very comforting. And to top it off, his toes were still wiggling frantically and uncontrollably.

So what would happen if he didn't show to any of the meetings? McGonagall would skin him alive. No, scratch that. She'd skin him alive, roast his tender flesh and feed him to whatever illegal, lurid creature Hagrid probably had hidden under his floorboards.

Okay, maybe she wouldn't do anything quite so extreme...but he'd certainly lose all hopes of being anything other than a nominal trophy Head Boy. That thought in mind, he sucked in a breath, straightened his shoulders, stuck his head high in the air, and with feigned confidence, stepped into the library.

James didn't know if the setting he found there was perhaps more disturbing than it was assuring. The pallid glow of moonlight glistened through the gauzy lavender drapery, and hundreds of suspending lamps provided the room with just enough light to read comfortably, albeit in a somewhat shadowed surrounding. Whatever noise there was in the room was reduced to a low hum; students' whispers and the scratching of quills on parchment filled the background. It was exactly as a library should be, and yet, a part of James wished for a great explosion of spontaneity to suddenly burst forth out from the floor in pulsating fingers of flame, if only to distract him. The mundane peace of the library seemed to mock him, seemed to laugh at his inner turmoil and at the little jitters that he was futilely making efforts to subdue.

He tried instead to focus on his mission at hand, and to carry it through without being ousted out of his position or humiliated. Just get it over with... and - He frowned as he recalled with annoyance the all-encompassing advice that he had been given. Just don't say anything stupid.

Big help that was. As if anyone would purposely say anything that would make him sound like a blundering idiot.

He ran three fingers through his hair in what would have looked to the common observer as an attempt to tame it. Nah, make it messy as possible, James thought defiantly. He might have to watch what he was going to say, but he'd march right in there and look any way he damned well pleased.

Now all there was to do was to turn the corner where Lily Evans would be waiting. After pacing back and forth repeatedly, James finally carried this resolve through on his third try. And sure enough, there was the Head Girl, scrawling slanted blue lines across a piece of yellowed parchment, her quill's scraping adding to the murmur of sounds throughout the room and her bespectacled eyes screwed up in concentration.

And then James stepped forward.

It took Lily a few moments to notice James's presence hovering over her before she looked up for a quick moment, squinted as though she couldn't see properly, and then stood up wide-eyed when she finally realized who he was. The initial shock flickered across her features for only a second; it was gone before James could even assure himself that it had been there. Her face immediately wore an expression of impassivity, and even James couldn't help but feel that she was eyeing him with a glance of slight affability. She extended an ink-stained palm. "Hello, Mr. Potter."

James waited a moment and a half before he shook her hand in return, quite confused. She was being perfectly civil and proper, as much as was to be expected, but he had certainly not anticipated that he would hear tones of cordiality and reconciliation in her voice. It would have been much easier if she had been prickly; then he and she could have continued to travel in the same vein as they had been in for the past six years, one of sniffs and cynicisms, disturbed only by the brief hiatus from confrontational tension during which time James had had his crush, a period in his life he would have rather forgotten, given how it turned out in the end. At least then, if she had acted as he had anticipated, all would be in a state of normalcy, whatever that was. And James always longed for normalcy and stability.

So maybe it wasn't Lily herself that made him nervous. Maybe it was the fact that normalcy in the world of James Potter didn't exist anymore, and hadn't existed since that morning that he had woken him feeling eerily different and lost.

And the fact that he was nervous around Lily, and even just in general was what was unsettling.

And to see her just standing there so calmly, without a clue...as if she thought that with a smile and a courteous handshake, all could be forgotten and rectified.

Lily dropped her grasp on James's hand and removed her glasses, then safely tucked them inside her robes. She looked up and gestured to the seat across the table from her and sat down. James stayed still for a moment, pondering whether or not turn the chair around and sit on it backwards as he normally did, thereby acting a bit more pompous than he probably should have been at the moment and blatantly ignoring Remus's advice. He decided against it and slid between the backboard of the chair and the table. While he was getting settled, Lily tried to surreptitiously hide whatever it was she was working on, and she pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment.

She cleared her throat and then began speaking. "I guess I'll begin by telling you exactly why I called you here." She paused, waiting for a response, but after only getting a raise of the eyebrows from James, she continued. "I have had a feeling that there is a semblance of rivalry between us, or if not something so extreme, then definitely something akin to tension. While I'm sure you have your reasons for these opinions, just as I have, I think this entire tacit friction has gone quite far enough." James's jaw dropped slightly. Luckily, she didn't notice; she was still neatening out the piles in front of her as she spoke. "We are, after all, going to be working alongside each other for an entire school year, a feat that I think will be better accomplished under if not friendly, then at least well-mannered circumstances."

The churning waves in his midsection that James knew as anxiety changed course. While she was trying to be amicable she definitely wasn't nearly as intimidating as she used to be, but for whatever brusqueness she lacked at the moment she made up for in capriciousness of character and the ability to positively baffle James beyond all hope of comprehension. His entire world as he knew it was falling apart. His friends no longer understood him, the entire theory of magic no longer made any sense, and Lily Evans wanted to be friends.

Lily produced a short list from her bag and set it down in front of her. She placed her forearms one on top of the other and looked up. James caught a dazzle of green, that unnerving, omniscient, clairvoyant green. Those eyes had haunted his fantasies as a fifteen-year-old; now he avoided looking directly into them at all costs. He feigned a cough and turned his head a bit to the side.

Lily raised her eyebrow. "I'll suppose I can interpret that grunt as an expression of 'yes-Lily-I-know-you're-right-but-I'm-feeling-particularly-inarticulate-right-about-now', heh?"

James snapped his head back towards her in shock; she wore no expression of sarcasm. He felt the back of his neck growing hotter. "What do you really want, Evans?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He ran a hand to the back of his head and silently prayed to keep his temper under control. "Come on, Evans. I've known you for over six years now, and while you keep pulling out new ways to confuse me, I've never thought of you as the type to forgive and forget so easily. You don't strike me as the philanthropic sort."

Lily lowered her eyes in a slightly self-satisfied way. "You sure that's not the pride talking, Mr. Potter?" she said softly.

"I could the same for you, you know. Something tells me it's your zealousness to live up to your title of Head Girl that's making you go completely out of character, not a sense of moral integrity."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't deny it, but I don't think that that's necessarily a bad thing either."

He shrugged. "Well, it wouldn't be...if you don't mind lying."

As soon as the words left his mouth he immediately wished they hadn't. He had just done exactly what he shouldn't have. Just don't say anything stupid. The advice had been very worthwhile; he could see now that he really had needed it. Of course, being as his luck's tendency to reveal itself was about the size of Knut, he had to first realize that after he had already put his foot in his mouth.

He chanced a look at Lily, expecting to see once again the snippety martinet he had come to know and love. He was surprised to find that she didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. If anything, she looked a bit amused.

"Well, it's certainly nice to know that you're sharp in your own right. I look forward to our conversations in the future."

James didn't say anything else; he was afraid to speak. She was by far the most moody and fickle person he had ever had the opportunity to meet, and he was not looking forward to seeing whatever other reactions she had up her sleeve. But even so, for the first time since he had received notice of their impending, and now current meeting, he found himself wishing that maybe somewhere down the winding and perilous road they could be friends. After all, he had an insatiable curiosity for every wonder and every whim that the universe had to offer, and she was a complex web of mysteries and quirks. And now James for some reason found the whole prospect of unveiling the veneer and slicing open that knot undeniably intriguing.

He attempted a weak smile. "Same to yourself."

There was a pause for a few moments. The murmur near the front of the library had all but subsided completely, and the dankness of the air that accompanies shelves of unopened books was growing more intense as night began to settle. Lily glanced at her watch dazedly and pushed herself up.

"Well, now you know where I stand at least." She made to leave and then stopped herself for a few seconds, looking as though she had forgotten something. She turned to James and placed the list she had been holding in front of him. "I jotted down a few ideas that I had. You might want to look them over and let me know what you think." She swung her bag over a shoulder. "And please don't hesitate to bring up anything with me."

James picked up the list casually and let his eyes skim over the slanted cursive. He had to admit that she actually did have some rather interesting thoughts on the parchment. "Hmm. Will do." He glanced at the list once more and then rose. James felt slightly comforted by the fact that she, being weighed down considerably by her leaden bag, presently appeared to be a few inches shorter than she usually was. It wasn't as Remus said, that he was intimidated by her height, although he did find her tallness rather surprising; it would just be psychologically easier to work out any issues that the two had, something he desperately wanted at this point, if he would have been able to see over her head when the two faced each other.

"I'll see you around...Lily." He held out a palm. She shifted the weight of her bag onto her other shoulder and extended her own hand. Then they shook, callused palms brushing callused fingers. James looked up from the grasp and found Lily looking directly at him. Sure, this unnerved him, and sure, he felt as though she was seeing right through him, realizing exactly what was making him so uncharacteristically agreeable around her that evening, but he kept the gaze. He was rather pleased to see that far from wearing a look of disapproval that she often wore in his company, she now looked rather satisfied. And strangely enough, he was satisfied too.

About an hour or two later later, James was on his bed, lying on his stomach. It still wasn't late enough to be going to sleep quite just yet, but he was in the dark, reading by candlelight. Sirius was gently snoring behind his drawn curtains, and although James knew that Sirius wouldn't wake for the Apocalypse itself, he still didn't think it would be right to light a bright lantern smack dab in the middle of the dormitory.

It was the least James could do for Sirius. James had thought that he had learned the ups and downs of Sirius's character fairly well, that is, until that night. That was when Sirius had without warning altered from his prank-happy state of euphoria to this broody and sullen disposition. Of course, James had known that Sirius had always been deeply affected by any mention of his bigoted family, but this sudden change of attitudes was definitely something foreign and perplexing. And especially when Remus of all people was the cause. Remus had always considered every word before it left his mouth, and while it was true that he had made a careless slip, James didn't know that this was really any reason for Sirius to contemptuously retreat into himself as he had. It was probably eating up Remus right now; he couldn't stand being on the receiving end of the anger or prejudice of anyone, be it fellow Marauder or werewolf hunter.

James hadn't seen Remus since he returned from the library, which was probably just as well. James needed a bit of time to work out exactly how he was going to approach his two friends to try to see what he good he could do to abate the tension. Maybe Peter would help. He was usually rather skilled with that kind of thing...well, once he knew what was going on and resolved to be tactful, that is.

That's how Peter was. He was not exceptionally clever, nor did he have a particularly obtrusive personality, but he was as loyal and as honest as they came. Because of his bluntness and quiet observational skills, not only did he notice things that James often didn't (similarly to the way Remus did), but he wasn't afraid to say what he was thinking. This might be called tactless at times, and it generally was, but Peter usually chose the right moments to make a spot-on comment or witty quip, so they were for the most part appreciated.

Of course, Peter never intentionally said anything that would make another Marauder take offense. Because even though James knew that Peter could probably be a leader if he had wanted to, he always chose the role of the sidekick. Willingly too. He regarded James as an immortal being of the sacrosanct who could do or say no wrong. This definitely boosted James's ego something considerable, but he still couldn't help but feel sometimes that despite Peter's unwavering loyalty and dedication, Peter would have been better off if he could just take a little time by himself and discover that he too was a worthy human being, capable of wondrous things. Because James truly believed that every one of his friends was immeasurably special in his own right, and that together, they could conquer mountains.

So it was imperative that whatever inner conflict was consuming Sirius at the moment be thrust forth and exposed. Bottling things up inside would only make things worse over time, and only if Sirius talked out his issues with someone who would listen and understand would he be able to be carefree once more, without the weighty burden of abandonment on his shoulders. James didn't know if the reason Sirius wasn't telling him anything was because he thought that James was the wrong person to tell, or just because he didn't feel like opening up altogether. Either way though, thought James wryly, when pressure keeps building and building up, it's only a matter of time before the balloon pops.

But there was no benefit to be gained by worrying about his now, when Sirius seemed completely unaware that his nose was emitting some rather hoarse snorts, so instead, James turned his attention to the list that Lily had given him earlier. It looked as though she had ripped the page directly out of a fifteenth century textbook -- that's how neatly it was written. Much too neatly, James thought, as though she had Charmed her cursive to be that perfect, to slope ever just so to the right, to have those i's dotted directly over their heads, to curve those round circular letters so delicately... He wondered for a fleeting moment if he would be able to try and sort out her character if he brought the list to the Divination professor for a handwriting analysis, but then he remembered that Hogwarts hadn't even had a permanent teacher in that position for several years at least. Apparently, there was quite a dearth of competent seers looking to teach a bunch of teenagers how to read palms. James couldn't for the life of him imagine why. So he supposed he would have to settle for evaluating her persona the old fashioned way - by association and observation.

Perhaps it was wrong of him to be treating her as a project, but that's how he felt about their relationship as of now - an experiment. She out of the blue up and decided to give him a second chance and had smiled at him. Not to mention that she had been looking at him rather curiously in classes after he made his skeptical comments. She was just so damn confusing, and he was pretty sure that she knew it too. The ability to astound and deviate from anything normally adolescent was not a congenital trait; it had to be reinforced and developed.

She undoubtedly felt similarly about him as well. She always looked at him now as though he were different or out of the ordinary, and while James tried to deny this prospect as much as he possibly could without outright lying to himself, he knew somewhere deep down that it was true. He had changed. He highly doubted that Lily knew exactly how, as he himself had no clue whatsoever, but just the fact that she had noticed something worried him. Why it worried him was yet another mystery to dwell on, but that was something that he simply couldn't refuse to recognize. Lily might have even found him as curious and as challenging as he found her, and knowing exactly what he thought of the Head Girl, this was saying quite a lot.

But as enigmatic as she was, she certainly had some good ideas, thought James as he read the blue-inked script. Perhaps she was a bit too much of an advocate for inter-house interaction for his own personal liking (and probably the likings of the whole of Slytherin House, and a decent percentage of the remaining student body as well), but other than that, not too bad. The particular point that he found the most appealing was a suggestion to forge relationships between upperclassmen and the younger students. This was quite revolutionary; classes had always for the most part been rather separate, especially between houses. Lily was proposing an organized method to meet and befriend students in the first and second years to ease them into their future Hogwarts years and to act as mentors for them.

He would have to tell her in the morning that he thought it was a great idea. If nothing else, it would make her slightly warmer towards him to some extent.

James felt his eyelids drooping. Remus and Peter weren't upstairs yet, and he could still make out the faint tones of multiple conversations sounding from the Common Room, but he was completely wiped from the jittery workout that he had undergone earlier. And so, he rolled over on his side and, soothed by the steady breathing of Sirius wafting from the next bed over, he felt himself drift into a long-awaited sleep.

* * *

Remus had thought that perhaps if he let Sirius cool off for a day or two, the latter would bounce back to his normal, bouncy self. But fate and logic just weren't on Remus's side that month. It was nearly two weeks since he had accidentally made a slip about the notorious Blacks and their newly disowned relative was still brooding.

It wasn't that Sirius didn't talk to Remus. He had no objections to asking him to pass the mustard at dinnertime or to discussing the ingredients to the Drought of Despair in the middle of Potions class, but the two didn't jokingly discuss Quidditch or make fun of the teachers like they used to. Remus realized that the antics and bigotry of the Black family was a very touchy subject, and he respected that. But for Sirius to completely retreat into himself and not share anything with any of the other Marauders was just unexplainable and completely out of character.

And the worst part of it all was that it was he who had been the cause. He, Remus, had been the one to unwisely comment on Sirius's family. He had been the insensitive one. He was the reason for Sirius's seclusion and moping. It was all his fault.

This concept was very new to him. He had never before been the one that a fellow Marauder was angry with. In the past, it had been so easy to comfort and rationalize when he was completely oblivious to the exact feeling of having a leaden weight permanently wedged into one's own stomach. James and Sirius had their little squabbles, and the two had confronted Peter on numerous occasions. Remus had always been the one that any one of them had come to about a problem. Maybe it was because of Remus's logic, or maybe simply because of the pure naivety that he possessed when it came to grudges and disagreements. He would not be able to be empathetic, but for teenage boys, specifically those teenage boys, commissary was not always necessary. Instead, Remus would be the one to talk about how the issue at hand could be ameliorated, about how to seek and reach the light in a seemingly bleak and endless stretch of terrain.

So if now Remus could be empathetic, would it be possible that he would no longer be able to provide that unspoken comfort that his friends had always craved? Whom would they go to now? And more importantly, who would be there for him?

He tried to shove these thoughts out of his mind and made superlative efforts to change his focus onto his Transfiguration essay, but he was having little luck. Sirius was sitting in front of the licking tongues of flame in the fireplace not thirty feet away. He was leaning against the side of an armchair with his knees bent up in front of him, so that they were acting as a table for the homework he was working on. His quill was poised on the parchment, but he seemed oblivious to the fact that midnight blue ink was trickling out from the nib of his quill, forming dark, soaking speckles and spots where his essay should have been. He was busy staring into the fire, or rather, staring past the fire, letting the dance of the flames mesmerize him as he remained occupied and chained by his own thoughts.

For a fleeting moment, Remus saw a flash of a tall red-haired young woman with the identical expression in her eyes, gazing past the droplets falling from the window of the Hospital Wing, lost in her own musings and confusion. He shook his head. This was too much. Much too much. Something had to be done. He had to find James.

Remus didn't have to look especially far in order to find James. There were a limited number of places that the young wizard took to as havens. When he wasn't studying in the library or entertaining himself, as well as dozens of Gryffindor spectators in the Common Room, he was usually found sleeping, eating, or playing Quidditch. The three anatomical essentials for survival.

It was just an hour after dinner, and Remus had seen James shovel in three bowls full of beef stew, two rolls and thick hunk of chocolate cake. So it wasn't likely that James would still be hungry. It was always possible, what with the bottomless pit that James dubbed his stomach, but still not likely. It was also too early to be going to sleep, so Remus headed down to the Quidditch Pitch.

Sure enough, there was James, streaking through the air at immeasurable velocity, robes and hair streaming out behind him. He swerved in and out of towering obstacles visible only to him. He moved with an unparalleled fluidity and grace, hampered only by the brisk evening air. He was too high up in the air for his face to be clear, but Remus was sure that if he could look far enough, he would see an expression of the ultimate euphoria on James's face.

A part of Remus wished he could for once experience that sensation that James had described to the Marauders countless times. His mind drifted back to the previous spring, the most recent time it had come up in conversation. The four had been lounging under their favorite tree by the lake, the same tree, in fact, by which the infamous "You-Make-Me-Sick Affair" had occurred. Sirius had asked James whether or not he would ever consider a career as a professional Chaser...

"So, Prongs, any idea what you'll be doing this time next year?" Sirius leaned back on his hands and closed his eyes as a gentle breeze wafted by, brushing the loose strands of black hair off his forehead.

James was blowing up a balloon at the time, and he stopped to take a heaving breath before blowing in once more. He removed the balloon from his face once he deemed it to be large enough, and tied the open air hole into a secure knot. "Celebrating the end of seven years of intellectual torture, I suspect," he said offhandedly. He picked up Sirius's wand. Sirius didn't seem to notice, or if he had, he didn't care.

"Yeah, no shit... I meant what're you planning on doing once you leave Hogwarts?"

James shrugged. "Not really sure. I mean I've thought about it, of course, but so far there hasn't been anything that's just stood out, you know? Why?"

Sirius raised a shoulder. "Dunno. Just curious, I guess."

Remus put his book to the side and watched James for a bit. Said boy was now Levitating the balloon with one wand and balancing a small flame on the tip of the other. He was having a bit of difficulty getting the balloon to stay in place; the wind had just blown again. "Oh, crap. Get that for me Moony, will you? I've only got two wands."

Peter, who had been watching James with an almost impolite curiosity, looked up.

Remus Summoned the balloon back and held it there with his wand while James continued to keep a flame underneath it.

"Say, Prongs?" he asked.

James's face was screwed up in intense concentration. "Yeah?"

"Does it bother you that you don't know what you're going to do?"

"I guess maybe a little," James said distractedly, glancing at his watch every few seconds as the balloon started to steadily swell. "I mean, everyone probably wants some idea of what the future's going to hold...I'm not going to say I haven't thought about it yet, but I'm not obsessing. I just haven't found anything yet."

He was cut off when the balloon suddenly burst. Shards of latex scattered the grass and Sirius sat up with a start. "What the --?"

James's face burst into a wide grin and he stared at the red remnants of his experiment. "Brilliant. Simply brilliant." He blew out his wand and twirled it a few times victoriously.

Peter looked like he was trying to share in James's success but didn't know exactly what had been achieved.

Remus scratched the back of his head. He wasn't surprised at what had happened; he just hadn't anticipated the extent of James's enthusiasm. "You know, if all else fails, you could always be a chemist."

James coughed. "Nah. I need to make my living in the great outdoors. Besides, I doubt the Ministry would approve."

Sirius laughed at this. "Well you're all set then. Why don't you just play Quidditch? Perfectly respectable, and you get to battle all the rain and hail you want."

Peter nodded in ready agreement.

James leaned back onto the grass and stared at the fluffy clouds floating across the great expanse of blue June sky. "Nah, I could never do that. I couldn't fly for a living...Flying is something I do for me. Quidditch is fun, sure, but playing professionally would suck all the fun out of it."

Sirius shot James a sideways glance. "What are you going on about, Prongs?" he said lazily. "You fly for the Cup. That's no fun?"

James briefly looked at Sirius and then returned his gaze to the great sky above. He placed his hands underneath his head. "It's one thing to be playing for school, but it's completely different to play for all of England. Just think of the pressure! Flying for me isn't just about scoring goals...It's more like time to be myself...You're soaring up there, lighter than air, and it's just you, your broom, and the sky..." His eyes glazed over, and then he closed them. "I'm just me."

Sirius coughed. "Sorry, mate. Don't follow."

James shifted so that he got a faceful of June sun. "It's hard to explain...I know there's a word for it, but I can't remember it right now...er...Maybe think of it like the balloon. If I don't just get on my broom and get everything out, I'll...pop.

Sirius snorted. "Yeah. Sometimes when I haven't used my broom for a long time, I feel like I'm going to pop too."

Peter chuckled. James sat up, took Remus's book from off ground and soundly smacked Sirius's head with it. "Dirty! Dirty!"

Even now, Remus still couldn't grasp exactly what sensation James had been describing. He wished he would be able to, so he too would have a chance to experience that thrilling euphoria. But as hard as he tried to understand, he always wound up confused, and James always wound up frustrated as the result of frequent unsuccessful attempt to share his feelings with someone whom he thought might just understand.

Remus sighed and made his way to the stands. He sat like that for a bit while he waited. Occasionally he would glance up at the liquid blur of black that was James, and at other times, he simply let his eyes close, trying to think of anything that could be done about the current situation.

James touched onto the ground about ten minutes later, hair looking like he had just gotten out of bed and glasses askew. He seemed oblivious to this; his face radiated exhilaration and purity.

Like he's just discovered the secrets to the universe, Remus noted.

James leaned his broomstick against his shoulder and beamed at Remus. "Hey, Moony! Beautiful evening, isn't it?" He turned to the side and spread his arm out wide, gesturing to the molten palette of splendor that dominated the sky. "Just look at that sunset. Makes you think there's at least some good left in this world, no?" He turned back to Remus; his eyes were bright, and he looked as though he anticipated a jubilant yelp from his companion as a form of agreement.

Remus didn't know exactly how to answer him. The evening was indeed very picturesque; the setting sun shot streaks of fuchsia and peach through the sky, making the clouds' tips glow with a delicate, commanding light. Yet something about James's mood just made him even more aware of his own worries and tensions. That happiness, that freeness, which wind-and-rush-induced ecstasy...There was no denying it: That was what was truly beautiful. And at that moment, Remus just couldn't take it.

He didn't want to dampen James's spirits; he didn't want to spread his currently overpowering feeling of pessimism and helplessness. But at that moment, Remus didn't know what else to do.

"James, I need to talk to you." His tone was serious and pointed. He felt slightly perturbed when the width of James grin began to decrease. James had obviously realized that Remus hadn't come outside to comment on the weather. "It's about Padfoot."

James's smile vanished completely now; a look of quiet and contrite understanding replaced it. He ran a hand to the back of his head and scratched it, causing his hair to look even more windswept than it already did. "Ah. Yeah...I was thinking about that too. Actually, it's why I came out here tonight." He shook his head. A spark of white light flashed against the rim of his glasses.

Remus felt the tiniest flutter in his midsection, possibly merely because he wasn't alone in his anxiety, or maybe because if anyone knew Sirius it was James, and James was bound to have come up with a solution...or at least an explanation. "And?"

James began heading up toward the castle, swinging his free arm at his side, more loosely that usual. "I think I might have figured out the reason for his...ah...broodiness."

Remus started to walk alongside him, trotting slightly to keep up with James's long strides. "Really? Because to be perfectly honest, I'm stuped." He frowned. "And it hasn't been pleasant at all."

James sped up as they approached the castle doors. "Well, I figure it like this. Sirius is very..." He frowned. "Extreme, if you will."

Remus held the door open as they went inside. That actually was the perfect word to use, when he thought about it. It flawlessly captured the Sirius's attitude and actions toward everything. "I see what you mean."

"Well think about it. Sirius wants to play pranks, and he obsesses over the stenches of Stink Pellets and the whereabouts of his favorite Slytherins for days. He throws a party, and it results in a Cornish Pixie fiasco. He gets into a row with his folks, he disowns himself. And then, when he's reminded of his family-"

"He retreats into sullen seclusion for weeks and stares meaninglessly into fireplaces," Remus finished wearily. "Right."

They walked steadily up several flights of stairs and down the corridor to the Gryffindor Tower in silence. The Fat Lady was entertaining a group of bandits, and from the looks of it, she was oblivious to the existence of the sabers at their sides. Remus almost laughed out loud at the fixated stares of fascination with which the scalawags were regarding the Fat Lady; it seemed as though they didn't get out very much.

Remus murmured the password ("Shrivelfig"), and the Fat Lady let the door swing open, although she was a bit irritated that the two Gryffindors had interrupted her story. They entered the Common Room and Remus was displeased to find that Sirius had not moved from his spot by the fire, nor had he made any headway with his essay. He had replaced the parchment; apparently he had noticed the blotches that were on it, but he had not written a word. He looked positively helpless, and miserably so.

Peter was sitting next to him, if not for his ready conversational skills, then merely for support of Sirius. The two weren't talking. Sirius was, of course, transfixed by the flames, and Peter was reading a textbook. The latter looked up for a moment and caught James's eye. James motioned him over.

Peter nodded to show that he understood and muttered something unintelligible to Sirius. Either Remus couldn't hear the response, or Sirius hadn't made one at all. Sirius didn't react to his sudden lack of companionship; he sat motionless, in pensive, torturous solitude.

Peter made his way over to the two Marauders; Remus felt strangely conspiratorial. "What's up?"

James raked a hand through his hair. "Moony and I have had enough." He glanced at the lone figure in front of the fireplace.

Peter nodded in understanding. "Well, what have you got?"

Remus sat down. The others followed suit. "What's the one word that comes to mind when you think of Padfoot?" He leaned his cheek on his palm. His voice carried the air of one who was discussing the latest news in sports...It was a mockery of the seriousness of the whole situation really, and he knew it very well.

Peter looked at the ceiling for a moment, as he was wont to do while thinking. "Erm...obsessive?" He looked expectant.

James coughed. "Not bad. We were going for extreme."

Peter considered this. "Yes. That definitely works." Remus emitted one single laugh, cynical and mirthless. Peter glanced at him. "Yeah. If it's not fixating on one thing, it's on something else. Now it's his family."

James rubbed his eyes. "Right. So now that we know the reason for it, we've just got to find out what to do."

Peter shrugged. "So just find something else for him to obsess about." He said this with such an air of casualty and simplicity that it almost made the proposition sound even more incredulous and yet obvious at the same time. What Remus and James had grieved over and mulled over Peter had just solved in an instant, without any hesitation. And what made it all the more surreal was that Peter didn't even realize the glaring genius of his comment. To him it was just instinct and common sense that led him to come up with something. In his mind, if it wasn't original or sensational, then it wasn't worth a damn. And that was the snag in Peter's self-esteem; he was too astounded by what others had to offer that he completely missed his own assets.

James dropped his arm and stared expressionlessly at Peter for a few seconds. He then without warning burst into an enormous grin and clapped Peter on the shoulder twice. "Ha! Brilliant, Pete!" It was the simplicity of it all that made it so brilliant, but Peter failed to realize this. He too started in hysterical laughter along with James, although probably not because of self-pride or accomplishment. James had thought that his answer was worthy of praise, and so in Peter's eyes, that meant that it was. James Potter was King, and what a king says is done without question. And so he joined in the laughter, because that was the appropriate thing to do at the time.

A few minutes later, James was still in a state of hilarity. Several other students looked and pointed without saying anything; they too felt that if the Great James Potter was laughing there must have been a reason for it. Sirius hadn't noticed.

Remus and Peter both looked at each other exasperatedly as James's laughter subsided. He wiped his teary eyes and removed his glasses to clean them. "So now what we need," he said in rapid breaths as he rubbed his glasses with his robes, "is a means of distraction."

"What do you think we should do?" asked Remus. "Because right now, Padfoot is the picture of despair."

James paused for a moment and stared at the spectacles in his hands. Little reflections of his hazel eyes danced amidst the glare of the lights overhead. His mouth softened and his eyes were bright. "Picture..." he whispered softly, pensively. He had the look of one who had just made an enlightening revelation.

Remus and Peter exchanged glances once again, this time each wearing a look of utter perplexity, mixed with amusement and relief. James snapped out of his reverie. "What do you two know about Loquerers?"

The question was so surprising and out of place that it took Remus several seconds to recover his wits to remember exactly what he knew about Loquerers, which, upon speculation, wasn't an awful lot. "Not too much, Prongs. Sorry."

Peter shook his head. "Me neither."

James lightly pounded his fist into his palm. "Damn."

Remus suddenly had a thought, and debated whether or not to run it by James, not knowing how the latter would react. He decided to chance it. "But you do know who would know, don't you?" He glanced furtively up; from the expression on James's face, he could see that the two had shared the same thought.

James sighed, but it wasn't a sound of dread or loathing. It was anticipatory and even perhaps a bit excited. "Lily Evans."

* * *

At that moment, Lily Evans was sitting in the library trying to do her homework. Trying was in reality a very mild term for the actual efforts she was putting into her concentration. She had half a dozen books spread out in front of her and she looked positively ruffled. But when Gilderoy Lockhart was in the company of another, he never stopped to think for a second that it was entirely possible that he was unwanted.

This, unfortunately for Lily, was one of those cases. About an hour earlier, Gilderoy had greeted Lily with the air of one who had been out of touch with an old friend for a very long period of time. Lily, being too polite to blatantly ignore him or simply huff, replied back with a plain "How are you?"

And now, here she was, over an hour later, and that blabbering narcissist still hadn't stopped answering.

It wasn't that she particularly disliked Gilderoy Lockhart. What she felt for him was not so much contempt as it was pity. The poor bloke was the archetype of persona non grata and he was too blind to realize it. Although, Lily reasoned, even if he had, by some strange twist of fate, come to recognize that he was generally regarded as being unerringly irritating, he would have most likely chalked it up to jealousy on behalf of everyone else in the world. Because that was Gilderoy Lockhart: a gorgeous face with absolutely nothing to speak for between the ears. It was sad, really.

So it was pity that prevented Lily from eloquently shooing him away when most others would have simply snapped at him to buzz off. Lily usually felt very mature when it came to things like this, considering how she handled such situations. She felt that she was always considerate wherever possible. But this time she wished she didn't have quite the scruples that she did. Because hearing about Gilderoy Lockhart's dream to open his own line of hair-care products was most certainly not how she wanted to spend her evening.

"So then, after experimenting with several rather advanced potions, if I do say so myself, I finally found the perfect substance to comb through one's hair while it is still wet. Naturally, it made my hair look dazzling. Not that it wasn't exquisite before, but I'm sure you understand Lily dear, that one must always strive for absolute perfection-"

Lily let the sound of his voice waft blissfully over her head as she tried to wrack her brain for anything that would be in any way useful...either for her essay or for inventing an excuse to up and leave.

Her savior came in the form of one James Potter, and though the sight of him would have once made her recoil, his presence at the moment was a pure godsend.

Lily sat up with a sudden alertness. "Please excuse me, Gilderoy, but James is here for a meeting." She stood up and waved. "Over here, James!" James saw her and headed over in her direction, wearing a look of complete confusion. Gilderoy turned around and noticed the Head Boy. He looked slightly put off. "Ah, yes, James Potter." He extended a hand out to James, who took it and quirked an eyebrow in Lily's direction. She sent him a meaningful glance that she hoped he would be able to interpret.

"Yes, Head Boy, isn't it? Bit of a shock for you, hmm? Bet you never thought you'd beat me out of the title, I'll bet..." His voice died away slightly, but he quickly recovered his wits and plastered a glittering smile on his face. "Good seeing you, ole boy."

"Yes, you too," said James steadily, looking in Lily's direction. "Lily and I just have to discuss some matters concerning house points...Head Girl and Boy duties you know. I'm sure you understand." Lily tried not to snicker at the suave expression on James's face. It was obvious that he was mocking Gilderoy. He was using Gilderoy's own techniques of conceit against him. If it were in any other situation, Lily would have been disgusted and turned off immediately. However, being as it was Gilderoy Lockhart that was in the hot seat, the whole situation was rather laughable. James Potter may have been proud, but Gilderoy Lockhart was simply ridiculous.

Gilderoy must have sensed his apparent inferiority at the moment, and took advantage of the pause in the conversation to exit the library. James watched him leave and then turned around to face Lily. His face held a strange expression. It was one of resolve and confidence.

He sat down across from her and eyed her amusedly. "So you're being audited to join the Gilderoy Lockhart fan club?"

Lily sighed and put her head in her hands. "So you've heard of it then, I take it."

"Of course. You don't remember the signs plastered on all of the bulletin boards about two years ago?"

Lily frowned. "There were no fliers on the bulletin boards, James."

He chuckled. "I know. Just attempting at friendly conversation."

Lily raised her eyebrows in surprise. It wasn't that she hadn't expected him to try to uphold the agreement they had made about a week earlier. She always knew that James Potter loved a challenge, and if befriending her willingly after their history wasn't considered a challenge, she didn't know what was. So she knew he would be friendly. But perhaps what was startling was the ease with which he made conversation, openly admitting his intentions without fear that she would think ill of them.

And it was at that moment that Lily realized what it was exactly about James Potter that half of the female population at Hogwarts found so appealing. She didn't think it was because of his looks. Not that she found his face to be completely horrid; He had interesting features, with the lean cheeks sharp, defined eyebrows, and a strong chin, but he didn't seem to have that devilish gorgeousness that teenage girls tended to go for. No, what James had was a countenance that emitted rippling waves of confidence. It was in his walk, his body language, and his tone of voice. He basked in it.

And yet, with him sitting there looking at her like he was, she couldn't help but feel that there was more to him. Sure, he looked calm and composed, watching her over his round glasses with entertained eyes, casually leaning on the table with one elbow. But there was something different in the way he moved and acted. All of his renowned mannerisms seemed almost forced in a way, and she had never seen him quite so challenging in class before to the teachers. But the biggest change by far was in his eyes...She had seen it on their encounter on the Hogwarts Express, and she had continued to see it every time they had met so far that year. James Potter was still proud, but his eyes were distant and confused, as though he had aged overnight and a foreign soul was residing in his body. They almost held an expression of being out of sorts...as though they shouldn't have been in that shell, or even in the world at all.

It had scared Lily. It still did, as a matter of fact. But maybe it was curiosity or that need to help that she possessed that had forced her to put her past doubts behind her and extend the olive branch. And that he had accepted it so willingly, she realized, not only showed his thirst to prove himself, but also showed that now he had to prove something to himself. He no longer seemed to have that omnipresent assumption that he could do no evil. Instead he was convincing himself that if only he could just do this thing, if only he could befriend Lily Evans, then it would prove that he was just as great as everyone said he was, and there was no reason to worry.

But this was just an assumption that Lily was forming, and she knew that even though she was uncannily perceptive, it was entirely possible that she was completely wrong about him. Which made the prospect of finding out exactly what was going on all the more interesting.

"Yes. Your verbal skills are quite astounding."

There would have been a time that he would have probably found that to be brusque, and even offensive, but Lily knew somehow that he would realize that that was just way she spoke, and if they were going to attempt a friendship, then he would just have to get used to it.

"Hmm. So I've been told." He looked at her for a moment and she looked back. Neither said anything for a few seconds.

"Er, Lily, I actually did want to speak to you about something. Well two things actually. For starters, I think some of the points you jotted down on that list are great ideas."

She raised her eyebrows in satisfied surprise. "Oh, which ones?"

"I really liked the one about getting got know the younger students. It just makes sense. I even got some of the other guys to do it."

Lily felt a small sense of pride and hope just then. It wasn't just that someone else had thought that her idea was worthwhile; she knew they were. But the fact that it was the notoriously self-satisfied James Potter that said it, and that he had actually taken the time to talk about it with others was definitely something to be said for. It showed Lily that he was actually serious about his Head Boy duties.

She smiled. "Good. Then we'll have to bring it up at the next Prefect meeting." She scribbled a note to herself on the corner of a page.

"Isn't that your essay you're writing on?"

"Nope," she said distractedly without looking up. "Just a my second draft."

He gave a small snort that Lily knew was in reality suppressed laughter. She looked up from her notes. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just that you make drafts..."

Lily didn't say anything. She didn't particularly feel an irresistible urge to go through the details of her compulsive study habits just then.

He cocked his head to the side, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He wore a bemused expression, as though he was trying to find the right words with which to say something, but he didn't know how.

"Er, Lily..."

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you."

"Sure. What is it?"

"Well..." He scratched the back of his head and ruffled his hair. "I, er..." He removed his glasses and began to clean them with a bit of his robe. Whatever he was trying to say, it was obviously a rather touchy subject.

"Is it about Sirius?" He looked up with raised eyebrows. She gave an abashed smile. "Sorry, but it's really rather clear that there's something not quite right where he's concerned."

He rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted. "Noticed it, have you?"

"Hard not to." She narrowed her eyes inquisitively. "What do you want me to do?"

He replaced his glasses and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. She could tell that had there been any other option, he most probably would not have gone to her for help just yet.

"Well we - Remus, Peter, and I - thought that maybe Sirius is acting the way he is just because he takes everything over the top. You know. He throws a party..."

"And I wind up retrieving objects from the ceiling due to a rampant flock of Pixies." Looking back at the incident, it was rather comical. "I remember that one quite well."

James stared blankly. "Right. Anyway, so we think that Sirius is acting the way he is because he doesn't know how to be any less upset. That's just the way he is."

Lily considered this. "Yes. It definitely makes sense." She shifted in her seat. "But where do I come in?"

"Ah. Right. So, we figured that if we distract Sirius with something else to go extreme about, it'll take his mind off of his family...at least temporarily."

It was a simple plan really, but what made it very interesting was that James was planning to use Sirius's character flaws to bend him any which way he wanted. Lily couldn't decide if it this was brilliant or positively despicable. "So where do I come in?"

He leaned forward with his arms folded in front of him. Now that he saw that she was willing to at least listen, his conversation became much more lively. "I know you're really good at Charms, and I'm, well, let's just say that my spells leave much to be desired. I was actually thinking of making Sirius a special kind of Loquerer."

"How special?"

He grinned. "If I were to Charm any two objects, I would be able to transmit sounds between them?"

"Yes..."

"So if I were to do this to a pair of mirrors, do you think you could help me transmit images as well?"

Lily felt herself becoming impressed in spite of herself. It was certainly a challenging and innovative proposition, but not by any means was it impossible. "Sure," she said simply.

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Of course. You look as though you expected me to refuse."

"Well not exactly refuse but...It's just that you've never really seemed to like Sirius all that much."

"I don't dislike him, I just sometimes -- usually -- find him a bit immature. But no one deserves to be miserable for standing up for something he believes in."

He eyed her with a look of understanding, not necessarily one that said that he knew where she was coming from, but one that told her that he was really taking what she said to heart. "Wow...I don't know how to thank you enough."

"Just keep everyone happy and sane, do your duties, and I'd say we could call it even." She smiled, but them something struck her. "I'll do it, but are you sure that it'll work?"

James shrugged heavily. "I'm not, but it's worth a shot. I'm guessing that Sirius'll be pretty excited for a day or two, just enough to get his mind off of his family. I can't tell you that he won't return back to his gloom afterwards, but by that time we're hoping that he'll tell us what's going on, or at least give us a chance to get through to him a little."

Lily nodded. "Everyone has someone they can confide in about different things. Sirius is probably just waiting for the right moment or right time to talk to someone about his family."

James pressed his palms against the table and pushed himself up into a standing position. "I just hope he finds that someone soon." He fluffed his hair up in the back. "I've got to go to Quidditch practice now...Thanks for doing this Lily. You don't know how much this means to me."

She smiled. "Glad to help."

He turned to leave, but then faced her once again. "I almost forgot. Where should we meet? And when?"

Lily glanced at Mrs. Pince sitting at her desk in the front of the library. She was already eyeing the two of them distastefully, being as they weren't sitting in total silence, but she was unable to say anything because they didn't spontaneously burst into high-pitched screams. "I don't think we should experiment with Amplification Charms in here. I doubt Mrs. Pince would be too thrilled with that."

James smirked. "Wait. You have your own room, right? I'd offer mine, but the guys know the password and I don't think you'll want to see all of the lovely things they leave for me to pick up...or smell."

"Yeah, sure. It's behind the statue of Orpheus on the third floor. I'll meet you there at seven tomorrow...If it's all the same to you, I don't really think it's a such a good idea to give you my password."

His neck flushed a little. "Oh, yeah. Absolutely."

He gave a sharp wave with his hand. "I'll be seeing you. Thanks again." And with that, he turned and strolled to the exit.

Lily watched after him with a satisfied expression. If anyone had told her a year or two ago that she would be plotting with James Potter to boost the spirits of Sirius Black, she would have called that person delirious. But it was true. She had just had a polite, friendly conversation with James. And it was kind of nice.

* * *

James's plan would have had no chance whatsoever of succeeding if Sirius actually knew how his family was reacting to his absence. He would have been scandalized and demoralized, and irrevocably so. Because the Black family was taking Sirius's disownment perfectly fine.

In fact, at that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Black were entertaining a few cousins at a dinner party. There were seven seated around the table: the host and hostess of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Silas and Nephele Black, Mrs. Black's cousins, Melampus and Araminta Meliflua, Mr. Black's brother and sister-in-law, Lazarus and Niobe Black, and their daughter Narcissa Malfoy, who arrived unaccompanied by her husband because he was out of town on business. Two of the Melifluas' children were there as well, a boy and a girl, but they weren't at the table; they preferred running around the house in some sort of chase. A petite white poodle sat obediently at Nephele's side; occasionally Nephele would reach down to pet her on the head.

"It's really quite comical, these elections," said Niobe. "The candidates are perfectly incompetent in every respect; I find it amusing to see what strings of meaningless bombast they will begin to spew next."

Melampus held up a hand. "Now, now, Niobe. I wouldn't go so far as to say that all of the candidates are hopelessly inept. That Adolfo Hitt seems to have the right ideas. He'll be sure to crack down on the mass proliferation of Mudbloods admitted into wizarding society."

"Oh, absolutely," said Nephele with enthusiasm. "He'll have my vote for certain." She looked at the door that led into the kitchen and called harshly, "We're waiting, Kreacher!"

"Yes, Mistress, Kreacher is coming right away!" came a hoarse shout from the kitchen.

Nephele shook her head disapprovingly. "Tsk tsk. Those House Elves are gradually having poorer punctuality every day. Honestly."

There was suddenly a great shout from the next room over and a young girl of about seven years of age burst in through the door, panting. She was not dressed in her robes; she wore a loose fitting smock tucked into breeches that came below her knees. She wore a simple hat was on her head and buckled shoes were on her feet. She sprinted down the length of the dining room, looking behind her as another figure burst through the door.

It was a boy, and judging from his height he was about ten years old. He had taken an old black stocking and had cut two holes near the foot; he wore this on his head as a mask. He chased the girl down the room, brandishing a plain stick of wood ferociously. Both were screaming in delight. "Take that, you Mudblood!"

"Walter! Marian!" said Araminta sternly, having to raise her voice over her children's shouts. "What have I told you about running in the house?"

Silas looked after his cousins fondly. "Oh, let them have fun, Araminta. You're only young once."

"Yes, yes. Of course."

The door of the kitchen creaked open and Kreacher emerged, precariously balancing a tray loaded with meats and interesting salads in each hand and a bowl of roasted potatoes on his head. He began circling the table, filling up the guests' plates. It was rather remarkable to watch, if anyone had cared. Kreacher, when dishing from one platter, would balance both trays on one outstretched arm so as to make his other hand available for spooning into the dishes on the table. The bowl of potatoes teetered to and fro, but never fell.

"Yes, so as we were discussing, Hitt will undoubtedly receive my vote as well," said Melampus as he carefully cut his meat into tiny pieces. "Purging the Ministry of Impure workers is something he will most definitely advocate. Of course, he is quite the diplomat, so he will have to introduce his plans slowly. But though the process will be gradual, I have no doubt that it will be com[lately worthwhile in the end." He stacked four morsels of meat and speared it with his fork. "After all, you know what they say. 'The end justifies the means.'" He placed the fork and his mouth and slid the meat off with his teeth.

"And we can't forget my proposition," added Araminta. "I've already brought up the suggestion to legalize Muggle-hunting. The head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports wasn't especially keen on the idea. But I have full faith that should Hitt come to office, he will allow it in an instant."

"Oh, I don't know, Araminta," said Nephele, stroking the top of the poodle's fluffy head. "I'm not saying that you haven't got the right idea, but what you're proposing is a bit extreme, don't you think. After all, Muggles may seem highly uncivilized, but we wizards aren't cannibalistic." She gave a false laugh and glanced at her watch. "Kreacher!" she hollered at the door. "Where is Merlin's food? I think he's getting hungry." She cooed the dog. "You're hungry, aren't you my little Merlin?"

"Speaking of the current Muggle crisis, have their been any more attacks recently?" asked Niobe. "I haven't had much time to read the Prophet lately." She calmly sipped a bit of wine.

"No, Mother," said Narcissa. "Authorities say that the Dark Lord has been busy with something else in the meantime." At the disgruntled look of her mother she hastily added, "Not that He is abandoning the problem, but at the present, He is working on a greater project."

"Well?" Silas leaned forward anxiously, gripping his fork and knife anxiously. "You sound like you know something."

"Yes," said Narcissa composedly. "Lucius does have his connections. And those connections say that apparently, the Dark Lord is assembling an army."

"What sort of army?"

Narcissa lifted one shoulder. "I don't know, but personally, I find the suspense rather delicious." The corners of her lips turned up in the faintest traces of a smile.

"Kreacher!" snapped Nephele at the House Elf. "I specifically asked you to give Merlin veal! You know that his stomach is too delicate for steak!"

"Of course, Mistress," grumbled Kreacher with a low bow to the ground. "Kreacher apologizes, Mistress." He took Merlin's bowl and hurried back into the kitchen.

Another piercing shriek sounded in the background. Without warning, Marian burst through the door dramatically and trudged slowly to the opposite side of the room. She was panting heavily until she could stand no longer and collapsed against a wall.

Walter chose that moment to slink through the doorway and jump in front of his sister's piercing form. "Ha! Mudblood! You think you can run from me? You can never defeat the Dark Lord's noble servants!" He made wild movements with the stick in his hand and then brought it crashing down as he shrieked, "Avada Kedavra!"

Marian clutched at her heart for a moment and then pretended to fall lifeless to the floor.

Walter lowered his arm. There was silence for a few moments. Then Melampus burst out laughing. The others soon joined in.

Melampus motioned for his children to come sit by him. "Come here, you two."

Walter sauntered over to his father's side. "Did you see that, Dad? Did you see the way I moved my wand? Huh?" Melampus clapped him lightly on the back as Marian plopped into his lap. "Sure did."

Marian looked indignant. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted deeply. "It's not fair. Walter always wins."

Melampus laughed and tousled her hair. "That's alright. You're just making your game more realistic then. Because in real life, the Death Eater always wins."