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James’s very last year at Hogwarts began exactly the way James was expecting it: with both a bang and a whimper.
They had a compartment by now, the four of them, and no one else ever came in. He sat there now, in the Marauders’ compartment, reading his copy of Sensational Saves and Other Epic Quidditch Plays and doodling absentmindedly in the margins. As he did, he listened to Remus, Sirius, and Peter talking to each other, letting the comforting sound wash over him like a waterfall.
“You okay, Prongs?” Remus said.
James didn’t have to look up to know it was Remus. Firstly, because he could recognise his voice in his sleep by now. Secondly, because the voice was slightly quieter than Peter’s. Thirdly, because Sirius’s method of asking him if he was alright would have less to do with asking him and more to do with –
Thwack. A Sugar Quill hit him in the face.
“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Padfoot asked.
“I’m just reading,” James protested. He rubbed his forehead – more for theatrical effect than because it hurt – and then nibbled at the end of the Sugar Quill.
“You’re just reading. Quietly,” Remus repeated. “It is a bit suspicious, you know.”
“Yes. Reading quietly instead of helping me plan what to do to Avery tonight?” Sirius said, sounding wounded. “No, something has to be wrong if he’s neglecting his Marauder duties.”
“I know what the problem is,” Peter announced, sounding far too gratified for James’s tastes. “You’re thinking about Lily Evans.”
Thwack. James didn’t have to look up to ensure that the half-eaten Sugar Quill landed perfectly, bouncing off Peter’s nose. “I’m definitely not,” he muttered.
“You are, aren’t you?” Sirius said. “I thought you were over her, Prongs.”
James sighed, marking his page before he closed the book. “Honestly, it’s impossible for a lad to read around here.”
“You’ve read that book before,” Remus said mildly.
“Yeah, you’ve already bored us all with the story of Bartholomew Winkle and how his last minute Snitch save prevented Hungaria from winning the World Cup in 1820,” Sirius said.
“Even though they were one hundred points ahead,” Remus said.
Sirius gestured to Remus. “See? Even Moony knows. That’s how much you’ve bored us with it.”
“I wasn’t bored,” Wormtail protested.
“You’re never bored when James talks, Wormy,” Sirius said dismissively.
Wormtail blushed.
“It’s not boring!” James said hotly. “If Bartholomew hadn’t pulled off the world’s first properly executed Wronksi Feint–”
“You’re not even a Seeker, why do you care so much?” Sirius said.
“You don’t have to be a Seeker to appreciate a good play, Padfoot,” James said.
Sirius rolled his eyes; this was a discussion they had had several times before, but James maintained that he was in the right. “Besides,” Sirius said, waving his hand aside with a regal air to indicate that he was done with the topic, “I reckon Wormtail’s right.”
James blinked. “He is?”
“I am?” Peter said, sounding equally surprised.
“About what?” Remus said.
“About why Prongs is particularly prickly,” Sirius said. “It’s about Evans, isn’t it?”
“It isn’t,” James said, lying through his teeth. Although it wasn’t entirely about Lily, she certainly was not an insignificant part of what he was worried about, why he’d been hoping to lose himself in Sensational Saves and the fabulous story of Bartholomew Winkle again.
“Worried about sharing Head responsibilities with her?” Remus asked shrewdly.
“I still can’t believe Dumbledore made you Head Boy. How the hell did that happen?” Sirius said.
James and Remus exchanged a look, but James was saved having to say anything by Peter chiming in with, “Hey, I think he’d make a good Head Boy. Everyone looks up to him.”
“Just because you can’t look at him without wanting his autograph, Wormtail–”
“Forget about Head Boy,” James said, before Padfoot and Wormtail’s squabbling could devolve into a proper argument. “There’s something more important we need to discuss.”
“Oh? What’s that?” Sirius asked, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
James smirked. “How we’re going to handle Snivellus and all his pals this year, of course.”
Sirius grinned. “Oh, thank Merlin,” he said, “I was beginning to worry that becoming Head Boy meant you wouldn’t have your priorities straight anymore.”
*
The next morning, James found himself in a position he never thought possible: sitting down in a Prefects’ meeting, with McGonagall scrutinising him as if she knew exactly how many school rules he broke last night with the Marauders. (For the record: eight school rules, all for good reason – except one, which had just been for a laugh.)
If at the beginning of his Hogwarts career, someone had bet James five Galleons that he would be in a Prefects’ meeting with a group of people he barely knew (apart from Remus and Lily Evans, who was sitting next to Remus and not him, which he was absolutely fine with, really), he would’ve scoffed and said, Make it twenty, there’s no way that’ll happen.
And yet here he was.
“Now that we are all here, we move on to the first order of business,” McGonagall said, once everyone was seated. “As you might know, James Potter and Lily Evans have been appointed as the Head Boy and Head Girl for this year. Now–”
“But he wasn’t a Prefect,” Alex Fenwick, Ravenclaw Prefect, said.
“He was Quidditch Captain,” Remus said, before McGonagall – who was looking quite peeved to be interrupted – could say anything.
“I still am,” James muttered to Remus, offended at the past tense of it all.
“That’s hardly the same thing as a Prefect,” Alex scoffed.
“Do you think pulling off two Quidditch Cup victories in a row isn’t a big deal?” James said, and grinned. “You’re just bitter that we squashed you in the finals last year. I didn’t take you for a sore loser, Fenwick.”
“Your Seeker won the Cup for you,” Alex said, falling into an argument that they had had several times after Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup last year.”
“And who do you think trained the Seeker?” James said.
Alex didn’t seem convinced by that, but luckily McGonagall spoke up and cut off whatever his objections were. When James turned to look at Remus, he saw Lily Evans, who seemed to be hiding a smile. He knew that it was most likely a smile at his expense, but that didn’t stop his grin from getting slightly wider. A smile was a win in his book. Not that he was keeping a mental tally of how many times he got Evans to smile. Of course he wasn’t. That would be psychotic. And yet…
And yet, after the meeting (which had been excruciatingly boring, save for when McGonagall said, “Any pranks should, of course, be stopped whenever you see them. If, for instance, one were to discover that some Nifflers had been let loose in the Slytherin dormitory, that would be the kind of behaviour that would be within the purview of your duty to put a stop to,” and looked at him very pointedly; that bit had been fun), he found himself telling Remus, “I’ll catch up with you later,” and falling into step next to Lily, who was walking in the opposite direction.
“Why aren’t you going to the common room?” he asked her.
Lily gave him a look that James knew very well: annoyed, but amused beneath the surface. “I’ve got class. As do you. We’ve got Ancient Runes.”
James hadn’t bothered to keep track of his timetable. “Do we?” he asked, mildly amused.
“I don’t know why you even bother taking that class, you clearly don’t care about it,” Lily said.
“Well, I care about… no, you’re right. I don’t care about most of it,” James admitted.
Lily grinned. “Why do you take it at a NEWT level, then?”
“Bet with Sirius,” James said promptly. “We each got to choose a class for each other.”
“What’s he stuck with, then?”
“Arithmancy.”
Lily made a face. “I never did get on with numbers.”
James snorted. “Potions is basically numbers, you know. Measurements and whatnot.”
“You take that back,” Lily said with an affronted gasp. “There’s so much more to Potions than numbers–”
James was momentarily distracted; they had passed a window, and the sun streaming in made Lily’s dark red hair glint. It looked almost golden, coppery in a way that made James want to reach in and tuck a strand behind her ear, and then maybe–
“Just like there’s more to Ancient Runes than just looking at pictures,” Lily concluded.
James shook his head to reorient himself to the conversation. “It’s definitely just that.”
“Have you even done the translations we were meant to?” Lily asked.
“Merlin, it’s the first day of classes and we’ve already got homework we’re meant to hand in?” James said. “Surely that’s not right.”
“We were meant to do it over the summer, idiot,” Lily said, but she was visibly trying not to smile.
James placed a hand on his heart and affected a loud gasp. “Summer homework? I daresay, the leisure time of the youths is under grievous attack.”
“So you haven’t done it, then?”
“Nah,” James said, waving a hand. “But I don’t need to.”
“What do you mean, you don’t need to?”
“I don’t need Ancient Runes translations,” James said confidently.
“Whyever not?”
“You don’t need the translations if you go by the vibes of it, Evans. It’s just instinct, you know?”
Lily snorted. “You’re going to fail your NEWT.”
“I’ll be fine,” James said. “But it’s sweet of you to worry about me, Evans. And to keep track of my classes.”
“You’re in most of the same classes as me, it’s not like it’s hard.”
“Still,” James said. “You remembered.”
Lily’s hair swung forward to cover her face as she looked down, but James thought he detected the slightest hint of a flush to her cheeks. “You’re still an arrogant toerag, you know,” she said.
James grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “I know. After you.” He leaned in and opened the door to the classroom.
They were a few minutes late to class because of the meeting, but even so, Lily paused in the doorway and gave James a small smile before she walked in, saying, “Sorry, Professor – Prefects’ meeting.”
The year, James decided, was already off to a good start.