Mischief Managed Y2 Part 2: The Truth of the Tournament

Chapter Sixty-Four: Plummeting

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James was one of the last to leave the party. They delay wasn't because he was having that much fun but because he wasn't looking forward to facing Remus, and even worse Sirius. James could hear the yelling from his angry friend now, chewing him out for being so stupid. He knew he deserved it, much like how he had for writing his mum about the Inferi, but it didn't mean he wanted to deal with it anytime soon. Somehow while James was eating more snacks, despite not feeling hungry, the several Gryffindors he was planning to walk back with had left. Seemingly out of nowhere there were only four people left besides him. The other students were seventh years who were drinking, probably something he wouldn't be able to have, with Slughorn and discussing some advanced boring-sounding magic. James realised he had messed up again. He had been confident he would notice when the older Gryffindors left so he hadn't bothered to ask them if he could walk back with them, hadn't seen the point of it.

Now he wished he had. He hovered around a bit longer, figuring maybe he would trust the Hufflepuff prefect to be kind enough to walk him back to his tower before going to her own common room. It wasn't that James thought he needed the escort but he didn't want yet another thing for his friends to be upset with him about after royally screwing things up with poor Remus. Only the seventh years weren't budging and the inebriation of the group seemed to be steadily getting worse. Slughorn's own increasingly boisterous voice was a clear indicator that what they were drinking wasn't pumpkin juice. James leaned on his hand, figuring he would just wait them out, but the boredom of hearing tipsy people gush about the latest potion created with Occamy Eggshells won out over anything else. Deciding that his friends could get over themselves when he arrived safe and sound in their dorm, he finished up his glass of actual pumpkin juice before slipping out, none of the late-night partiers realising he had ever even been there.

Walking back casually, James thought about what he had learned about Remus' dad. It shouldn't be surprising at all really but especially hearing the story about how the man had tied up and hand-delivered a werewolf to the ministry was troubling, to say the least. Almost more worrisome than that was how upset Lily had been, she clearly had previously had no clue what a nasty man Lyall Lupin was and how poorly he treated his son. She did now and with how much she cared about Remus that had to be hard for her. Wishing he could climb the girls' stairs so he could make sure she was okay, he continued travelling back to the common room. He hadn't even exited the dungeons when he heard a sound behind him.

James turned around, thinking it must have been Filch's cat or something, and unsurprisingly found nothing. He continued walking, wishing he could help Lily because that seemed a much easier feat than helping Remus or Sirius. Should James tell Sirius what he had discovered? He doubted Remus would volunteer the information. But James quickly decided keeping such an upsetting detail from Sirius was of the utmost importance. He didn't fancy breaking into Remus' house anytime soon and the older boy was still of the naive belief that their friend was no longer harbouring secrets. James hated that he had been right, that the secrets weren't over. But deep down Sirius had to know how ridiculous it was to think that Remus would ever tell them everything, even if despite all odds the werewolf told the prying heir more than he did the rest of them. James figured that was the benefit Sirius got from understanding some of what Remus had been through, even if the heir was still very much a nosy git.

Still, it was a bit odd. And since James was already thinking dark thoughts he turned his attention to how young Remus must have been when he was bitten. Somehow Remus getting bitten right before coming to Hogwarts had seemed bad enough by far. But the boy must have been younger than eight even for Sirius to protest how it made sense that Remus didn't know who had turned him. James didn't remember everything from when he was eight. Of course if something traumatic happened he probably would remember; he would never forget breaking his arm and falling off his toy broom when he was five. But he couldn't make himself think of Remus as being any younger than ten. Everything was already unfair enough as it was. There was another stomping sound, jarring James out of his depressing thoughts. He whirled around, this time his heart skipping a beat. He didn't see anyone. Maybe one of the seventh years still with Slughorn was a Slytherin and had returned to their dorm room. That must be it. James waited, in case there were more footsteps but none came. Yeah, that must have been it...