Second chance a new choice

A shrewd confrontation

One could say much about James Potter, that he was rash, mischievous, rude, or immature—but none could number stupidity among his faults, and on the rare occasions he used it, James' brain proved shrewd, even clever.

Lily... James sat cross-legged on his bed in the Gryffindor dorm and noted every crack in the floor. Why do you do this to me? Every time I sit down to think you and your sweetness make it so I can't without way too much effort.

At least I got Sirius to leave for a while. He tapped the half-made bed unconsciously. He always has the best of intentions and tries not to be prejudiced, but there's a difference between profession and practice. He can be cruel when he decides to hate someone—like every Slytherin student in school.

Who started our little war, anyway? Us? Or the Slytherins? I suppose I enjoyed Sirius' behavior before—even encouraged it. Why not let him have a little fun?

James sighed and began counting the wrinkles in his absent dormmates' sheets. I guess all of us are guilty. After all, no one's tried to stop it. What were we supposed to do? End of last year, Slytherins crossed the line from petty bullies to cruel advocates for... him. The dark magic, the whispered admiration—especially Snape and his threats, not to mention all the hints he dropped about choosing to stand with... You-know-who. Not to mention that bit about me paying for being a blood traitor. Sleazy Slytherin! But worst of all... He pictured Lily's kind, lovely face. You had to keep defending him.

Conscience nudged him. All right, maybe Sirius and me pushed him that direction, what with the Whomping Willow incident. Snape was worse than ever after that. But it was his choice. He decided to be cruel to students from other houses, to grovel in the shadows of bigger, more powerful Slytherins. He did their bidding and announced love for the dark arts and for... him, and everything he stands for.

But... then it all stopped. No transition, no dramatic battle, no life-changing loss. No warning. Nothing. Just—done.

One day he threatens me and Sirius with the power of the dark arts, and the next, he starts blubbering and swears to the world he can change.

James growled and got up to pace. I've tried to see this objectively, but nothing here adds up. He should've shown his true colors by now. But all he does is spend time with that little green-eyed jinx. Hurt wrung his heart like a soaked towel. Snake. He must've tricked her. How else can she prance about with that serpent? How can she–No. No, Potter, keep your head straight.

But that day at the Ministry... His sock-feet thumped a slow rhythm. There was Snape, in his old, muggle clothes, standing with Lily like they belonged together. And visiting that girl. You'd have to be heartless to hate him for that.

He's nothing like the old Snivellus. It's like... he's a different person. But that's insane. Of course, he's the same person. Isn't he?

Then there's Remus. James stopped and leaned on the windowsill. Orange and yellow leaves fluttered from shedding trees. He spent half the summer holiday with Snape instead of us. Did that time form a... bond? The ache gnawed his heart again. Why does it feel like someone slapped me every time I think about that? And why does Remus talk so casually with Snape? Remus is my friend. I trust him, and he still hangs around with us most of the time, but when he stops to talk to Snape—James sneered. The werewolf secret used to be just ours—something he'd never tell anyone else. But now, Snape knows, and Lily. And Snivellus knows about our Animagi forms! What part of my personal life has he not got his oily nose in? James turned his back to the idyllic view.