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Paragons
of delight and uncertainty
by Raven
PG-13, het, Lily/James. James likes Lily. Maybe not as much as he likes Quidditch. She might like him, too - but unfortunately, Sirius, Remus and Peter have got it in their heads to be helpful. The Slytherins are less than amused by proceedings. Complications ensue. With grateful thanks to Pirate Perian for the thorough beta, to Hathor for the loan of her personality, and to Leigh, Tory and Meredith for the ideas.
The retelling of some events that did take place at Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the summer of the year nineteen seventy-six, Anno Domini.
Chapter Two - in which Moony learns to fly
“Potter!” yelled a voice.
James blinked and looked up. His embarrassed wandering had brought him straight to the Quidditch pitch, and the Gryffindor captain Kit Marlowe was running towards him, looking utterly livid. Bemused, James glanced at his watch. He wasn’t late – in fact, he seemed to have arrived before any of their other teammates. Why, then, did Kit look ready to slaughter him?
“Hi,” said James carefully.
“Don’t ‘hi’ me, Potter!” Kit yelled in reply. He walked very briskly away towards the changing room as he spoke, and James had to jog to keep up with him. Something must have happened to make him this angry – it was well-known that it took a lot to ruffle Kit.
“Um… Kit,” began James tentatively. “What’s the matter?”
Kit sat down on one of the changing-room benches and faced him. “I’ll tell you what’s the matter,” he said dangerously. “Here I am, wearing myself ragged, looking for another Seeker for when I leave, because I still want the team to hang onto that Quidditch Cup after I’ve gone. So I’m hunting the school from top to bottom, and after weeks of effort, I find one, only to discover a Chaser of mine knew about him all along and for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, chose to keep his mouth shut the whole time!”
James had a feeling he knew who ‘Chaser of mine’ referred to, and a distinct feeling he knew who the Nervously, he asked, “Who?”
“You, Potter!”
“No…” mumbled James. “The Seeker.”
“Ah, yes, the Seeker.” Kit’s voice was becoming reflective – not a sign that he was calming down, merely that he was building up a head of steam for the next verbal onslaught. “I was watching you practise two nights ago, Potter,” he said in a seeming non sequitur. “You were using those little golf balls that Madam Hooch got us to throw and catch with. You’re good. But then, you’re already on the team, I knew you were good. The point is you had some friend of yours helping you, and he was good. It was getting dark, and all I saw was some pale kid with brown hair, but as you came in to land, I distinctly heard you say, ‘You’d be a good Seeker, Remus.’”
James swallowed. Kit glared at him. “I can count all the people I know called Remus on the fingers of one elbow, Potter,” he said. “So off I go to Madam Hooch, who informs me that yes, there’s a kid called Remus Lupin in the sixth year, yes, he’s a good flier, and yes, he’s a friend of yours. And I, not quite believing that even you could be quite that stupid, ask what house he’s in. She tells me he’s a Gryffindor. A Gryffindor, Potter! A Gryffindor who’d make a good Seeker! Is this sounding at all familiar to you?”
“Yes, Kit,” said James humbly. “I’m sorry.”
“For the love of Merlin, Potter! Why didn’t you tell me?”
James gulped and thought quickly. He detested lying, so for a brief moment his natural urge was to tell the truth about Remus, but he knew he couldn’t, even in confidence; its being Remus’s secret, it was Remus’s to tell. Acutely conscious of Kit’s eyes boring into his skull, waiting for him to speak, James blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Remus is afraid of heights.”
“What?” Kit snapped.
“He’s afraid of heights,” James repeated, growing in confidence. “Doesn’t like flying too far off the ground. Wouldn’t cut it as Seeker.”
He wondered if Kit knew he was lying; the team captain was staring at him, suspicion writ large on his features. “Hmm,” he said, sounding remarkably like Professor McGonagall. James held his breath, and after a while, Kit seemed to relax slightly. “Well,” he said, after a while. “If that’s the way it is, then I suppose there’s nothing you can do.”
“Right,” agreed James.
“All right, Potter. You’re free to go. Just… keep your eyes peeled, that’s all!” The team captain dismissed him with a brief resurgence of his earlier anger, and James left, walking more quickly than he might otherwise have done.
Contrary to his earlier exaggerated predictions, Kit had not kept him there all night, but it was true the sun was significantly lower in the sky than it had been earlier. James looked across the grounds towards the lake, but his friends had gone. A cool evening breeze was blowing, and James supposed it was no longer such a good idea to be sitting outside with wet feet.
As he walked down towards the castle, he saw a familiar redhead some distance ahead of him, and even alone and in the dim light of dusk, he blushed. She was sure to be headed the same direction, and he stopped dead to allow her more of a lead. He didn’t want to have to talk to her any time soon, at least not before he’d managed to repress today’s little encounter.
As he stood there, he noticed she was deep in conversation with another boy; even from this distance, James recognised that shaggy head. He grinned wryly to himself. Out of the four of them, only Remus had anything resembling a friendship with Lily Evans – James was reduced to incomprehensibility in her presence, Peter was incapable of talking to all girls, and Lily was widely-known to have told Sirius, “you dare come near me again, Black, and I’ll hex you to next Tuesday.”
As James had feared, Lily and Remus stayed in front of him all the way to Gryffindor Tower, and he dawdled and lingered behind them so the Fat Lady had just swung back into place when he arrived.
“Hmph,” she said, glaring at him for making her open up twice in two minutes. “Password?”
“Aurora borealis,” he replied. She gave him another glare and the portrait swung forwards. James clambered up into the common room, and was very glad to see Lily wasn’t there.
Neither were Sirius, Remus, or Peter. James heaved a sigh and headed towards the boys’ dormitories. Perhaps tomorrow would be more of a success.
– – – – – –
The next morning, when the four Gryffindor boys entered the Great Hall for breakfast, they were met with a strange sight. Standing by the entrance were four hooded figures, wearing ordinary robes that had been altered with magic so they covered their owners’ heads.
“Slytherins’ tea-party,” muttered Sirius to James, but he broke off in surprise as all four of the people in hood turned to face them, pulling out their wands. As one, they cast the spell.
“Wingardium Leviosa!”
As incantations went, it wasn’t much; it was easy enough to be taught to first years and no-one could ever accuse it of being esoteric. But what it lacked in subtlety it made up for in dramatic effect, particularly when cast by four people on a single object. The single object happened to be a mostly-human being who didn’t weigh all that much in any case; with a yell of surprise, he flew upwards with great force, coming to a stop just below the enchanted ceiling.
James jumped. Sirius leapt back and jerked his head upwards. “Wow,” he said. “That’s weird.”
“Understatement,” breathed Peter. As it was Saturday, there weren’t as many people in the hall as there could have been, but nevertheless, hundreds of pairs of eyes were swivelling upwards. Ten metres above their heads, Remus was sitting cross-legged on thin air. “Not that this isn’t intriguing,” he called down, “but I’d really appreciate an explanation.”
“As would we all, Lupin!” Professor McGonagall was on her feet at the staff table. James was about to tell her that whatever had happened wasn’t Remus’s fault, but realised she already knew what had happened. She was glaring in the direction of the Slytherins, all of whom were sniggering. Even those at the other house tables were grinning; it was clear to all that Remus found the whole situation as amusing as they did.
Dumbledore was standing too; James could have sworn by the expression on his face that he was trying not to laugh. “Remus,” he called. “Try and stay as still as possible.”
Remus, who had been leaning casually on nothing at all, complied without comment. The two teachers held their wands at arm’s length, pointing straight at him. Slowly, gradually, they pulled him down, but Dumbledore’s sense of humour kicked in at the last minute and Remus dropped like a stone for the last three inches. He landed, cat-like, on his feet and smiled. “Breakfast, anyone?” he said innocently, and James rolled his eyes.
“You’re irrepressible, Lupin,” he said, and Remus smiled.
“I try my best,” he said, ignoring the people who were still looking at him as he went and sat down with the others.
“Where’s the marmalade?” Peter asked, brandishing a table knife.
“Excuse me?” said Sirius suddenly, reaching for the marmalade jar before Peter could grab it. “Am I the only one who’s remotely interested in figuring out what just happened?”
“I think it’s very clear,” said James, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Four Slytherins with something against us thought it was funny. And the masks meant no-one can prove who did it – they ran for it as Remus hit the ceiling, didn’t you see?”
“It’s still easy enough to guess who it was,” Peter remarked. “Snape was definitely one of them.”
“And Lestrange,” Remus added, biting into a piece of toast.
“Evan Rosier,” contributed James.
“One of my delightful cousins,” said Sirius thoughtfully. “Narcissa, perhaps. Or maybe Bellatrix. That’s not the point. The question is, why? Why send him up in the air? And why Moony particularly?”
Realisation hit James like a Bludger to the head. “They think he’s afraid of heights.”
“What?” asked the other three simultaneously, and James sighed heavily.
“Remus, I’m sorry,” he said, looking directly at the other boy. “Yesterday, Kit told me he’d seen you fly, and wanted to know why you wouldn’t be Seeker… I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.”
“Thanks, James,” Remus said. James looked up to see if he was being sarcastic, and Remus seemed to guess what he was thinking. “No, I’m serious.”
James started to say something, but Sirius cut him off. “Weren’t you in the Gryffindor changing rooms? Just you and whatsisname, Kit?”
“Yes,” said James slowly. “So what?”
“So how in the hell did the Slytherins hear?”
James blinked. “They couldn’t have done… there was no-one there but us.”
“I think there was,” Remus interjected, “otherwise I wouldn’t have been on the ceiling mere minutes ago.”
Sirius nodded. “I’ll go with that. Maybe they had an Invisibility Cloak.”
“They’re rare,” James said.
“You have one,” Peter pointed out, and James had to concede the point.
“It’s a good thing Moony isn’t really afraid of heights, though,” Sirius commented. “He dealt with it very well, I must say. Didn’t go to pieces like a girl and bring shame on Gryffindor.”
Peter and Remus smiled at that; James didn’t, having just had a horrible thought. The day before, in the deserted, sunlit changing-rooms, he’d almost been lulled into telling the truth to Kit Marlowe. When he wasn’t shouting, Kit was a friend and an all-around good guy, and James detested lying. He could have sworn Kit to secrecy and no-one would have been the wiser…
…until Moony came to breakfast this morning and found the whole school knew what he was.
James swallowed. It was all right, nothing had happened, but irrational guilt wouldn’t go away. He could feel it burn, and had a sudden urge to tell someone what had so nearly happened, but there was no-one he could tell – Peter wouldn’t understand, and Sirius, happy-go-lucky Sirius, would simply brush it off as if it were nothing. As for telling Remus… the idea was unthinkable.
What about Lily? asked a small voice inside his head, but James ignored it steadfastly. “We need to get them back for this,” he said grimly.
Remus laughed. “James, don’t overreact. I’ve always wanted to learn how to fly.”
“How about off the top of the astronomy tower?” James snapped back, and Remus blinked. “We need to get them back, Moony,” James said firmly.
“Prongs?” Sirius was looking at him quizzically, and with good reason. It was usually Sirius himself who had the fanatical desire for revenge, not the more laid-back James.
“Fine,” said Remus, after a pause. “We get our revenge. How?”
Sirius seemed to be warming to the idea. “Leave that to me.”
“Why, what are you planning?” Remus asked, amused, and James allowed himself to smile.
Sirius grinned broadly but said nothing at all. Remus and James exchanged glances. Padfoot Had A Plan.