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Somewhere amongst the panic, sometime throughout the silent tears, James remembers. He remembers.
Across in his own Hufflepuff room, Peter remembers too.
1. James
When James Potter was three years old (around the time of his first memories), he had been reaching from his mum's arms the second they left the Floo. He had recognized the space; that much was clear.
There was a happy gurgling shout from one of the other rooms in the house; James widened his gummy mouth and called out a reply.
"Be’er!"
His mum had smiled at him, still in her arms, as he began to try to wiggle his way down.
"That's right," she'd praised. "Peter!"
"Beter!" James had copied, still wiggling even as the woman holding him started moving.
"Is that you, Effie?" Peter's mum had called out.
"Sure is," James' mum had affirmed. "It's lovely to see you, Enid."
Peter's mum had come around one of the doorways, then, wearing an apron and smiling at them.
"You and James as well," she'd nodded. "Do you want some tea? Peter's in the room off the kitchen."
"Sounds great."
James had then finally seen Peter as they walked into the kitchen - he was grinning up at him from his place on the floor of the playpen. James had reached out again, and been gently deposited beside him.
"Dames," Peter had grinned at him, because neither of them had quite gotten each other's names right yet.
"Beter!" James had exclaimed in reply, joining him by the tower he was making with his blocks.
Their mums had chatted in the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon, occasionally coming over to 'help out' with their tower - though they were doing pretty good alone, thank you!
By the time James had been picked up to go back home there was an orange sort of sun filling Peter's house through the windows. When they got home, his dad had been there with dinner almost ready - James had been sat on the stool by the counter carefully, his mum holding both of his hands as he excitedly relayed how tall his and Peter's tower had become to his dad, who'd listened with rapt attention.
"Was it as big as this ?" He'd asked at one point, grabbing James under his arms and lifting him to the ceiling in an arc. James had giggled, and then his mum had taken over - she'd gotten him even higher!
Was it taller than their tower? Yes, it was. Still - nothing could beat James' afternoon with Peter, he had made sure his parents knew.
The house was warm and light even once the sun had gone to bed; then James was whisked off, too. His mum had told him a story about brave castle builders, and his dad had sung him one of his songs.
He'd fallen asleep with a smile on his face.
2. Peter
Peter's first memory of James came at an age he isn't quite sure of - a young one nonetheless.
His mum had picked him up without much warning and they'd been flung through the floo - never his favourite experience. When he opened his eyes, though, it was immediately worth it and a wide, gummy grin had sprung to his face.
He'd babbled this excitement to his mother, who had smiled at him shortly and swept through the house like she belonged there.
"Effie!" she'd called. "I hope you don't mind a visit; I've been ever so busy, you see, and something's come up."
It was only now that Peter had actually spotted James and his mum, as they entered the lounge. The two were outside, James' mum watching him fly in circles just above the ground. Peter's eyes had widened. He'd never seen someone actually fly before.
"Oh," his mum had said, a bit flat. The next second, though, she'd been on her way to the door outside.
"Dames!" Peter had called out, as soon as they were through the door - James had almost fallen off his broom. He sure slowed down quickly, anyway, rolling onto the grass and then looking up quickly.
"Enid," James' mum had smiled. "What brings you here?"
"Beter!" James had called out, coming over to Peter where he was still in his mum's arms. He wiggled a bit and was promptly set down, taking a few seconds to get his feet under him before he grinned at James again and James grinned back. "Let's do Hogwarts," the other boy had told him, and Peter had nodded excitedly and followed James just a bit further into the yard, where they began pretending to be in classes and do magic. They'd waved their hands around lest they be told off for playing with sticks, even though they knew most magic only worked with wands.
At some point, Peter's mum had come over and demanded a hug before leaving - Peter wasn't sure where she was going, but as long as he got to play with James it didn't matter.
"What are we going to do with you?" He was pretty sure he heard James' mum say at one point - seconds later James had roped her into being their Hogwarts teacher.
"We should do flying class!" James had told his mum, not too much later. She'd smiled.
"But there's only one broom!"
"We can share!" James had exclaimed. "Come on, Beter. You go first!" he'd said, grinning as he dragged Peter over to the broom he'd been on, now on the ground.
"I haven't…" Peter had said, watching the broom as James' mum got it off the ground again with trepidation.
"That's okay, Peter," she had smiled once more. "Do you want to have a go?"
Peter had nodded, and James' mum had shown him how to get on the broom - when he finally did get on, her hand never left his back. James cheered as he started moving, going in circles though not as fast as James' had been before.
"You're great!" James had grinned at him, and Peter had tried to smile back but he didn't really want to land on the ground. He didn't mind too much when his turn was over; it had been fun, though.
When it was James' turn he'd zoomed around again - Peter had watched in amazement and then James' mum had had to almost pull him off the broom.
She brought them both inside and set them down with some books and blocks, sitting on the couch near them with her own book as they played.
The Floo had whooshed not too much later - Peter had looked up in anticipation, but it wasn't his mum who walked into the lounge; it was James' dad.
"You've multiplied!" the man had grinned as soon as he saw them. "I swear this morning I only had one son…"
James had giggled at him, and Peter laughed a bit too even as James' shook his head.
"Dad! This' Beter! You know Beter!"
"Ah," James' dad had smiled. "Yes, I suppose I do know Peter. Hello."
Then he'd gone over to kiss James' mum and talk to her about something - James wanted to carry right on where they'd left off but Peter couldn't get it out of his head. His parents never did that.
He stayed for a long time, too. James' mum made enough dinner for all of them, and Peter loved it. He couldn't stop thinking about his mum, though - when would she be back?
By the time the only light inside was coming from all the lights being on, James' mum came over to them once more, holding her hand out to Peter.
"Time to go home," she'd smiled at him. Peter had looked up at her and held his arms out, and she'd lifted him up. James had jumped up like he was going to come too, but his mum had shaken her head. "You have to go to bed, baby. Daddy was gonna take you, remember?"
It was then that James' dad popped up - seemingly out of nowhere, as if summoned. Peter giggled a little.
"Come on, son," he grinned. "Time for more tales of the Beedle Bard type. What will it be tonight? The hopping cauldron? Or perhaps-" he gripped his chest dramatically "-the hairy heart of the warlock? Hm?"
James had laughed at him and run up to grab his hand, waving at Peter as he went.
"G'nigh', Beter," he'd smiled. Peter had waved back.
"Come on, then," James' mum had smiled at him from where Peter was still in her arms. "Excited to get home?"
Peter had smiled, nodding while he’d curled into her and put his thumb in his mouth.
"Right," she'd mumbled, and then they'd stepped through the floo - Peter still didn't like it much, but James' mum let him close his eyes and curl into her further, so it was okay. "Enid?" she'd called out once they were through. "Michael? I've brought your son home!"
When there was no answer, she continued. "He's pretty tuckered out, aren't you, Pete?" Peter nodded slowly. "That's good. You can go to bed in just a few minutes."
James' mum walked with him through the house, stopping in the kitchen for a few seconds with a slight gasp - Peter wasn't sure why, though. She gently pushed his head back down when he tried to look.
"Let's get you into bed, hm?" she'd asked him, walking away from the kitchen quickly. "Which one's your room, Petey-Pete?"
He didn't take his thumb out of his mouth, pointing with his other hand at the door to his room. James' mum smiled against his head and nodded a bit, then carried him into his room and set him down on the bed. "Where are your PJs, huh?" she asked. Peter crawled over to grab them from under his pillow, and she helped him put them on then tucked him in, kissing his forehead gently. "Goodnight, Petey."
He kept his eyes open, though, looking up at her.
"Do you want a story?" she asked, but Peter shook his head.
"Where's Mummy?" he asked.
"She'll be here in the morning," James' mum smiled at him, running a hand over his hair. "Sleep well, darling," she whispered, then started singing softly.
Pater drifted off content. When he woke up, his mum was indeed there, making him breakfast, just like he'd been promised.
3. James
Peter coming over had never been a very unusual experience. Just as often, James would head over to his house - and once he turned six, his parents would let him go to Peter’s by himself as long as they stepped through with him. Of course, it helped that they would often run back and forth between houses (often with Peter’s mum) through the Floo to collect things to play with, so their parents knew they always made it to the right place, and were together most of the time should they get lost.
James doesn’t remember very well his first time being at Peter’s without his parents - only that when he had emerged in Peter’s house, the other boy had grinned at him like a madman. Perhaps they had been waiting for the day, and planning it through.
After that, though, James had tackled Peter in a hug and then they’d run to his room - James following Peter the long way around his house - and crashed onto his bed, talking excitedly and grabbing out Peter’s trunk of clothes to play with.
They’d played dress up for hours - James is pretty sure it had been one of their favourite things to do. James had even stayed for dinner - and they got to eat in Peter’s room, which was very fun! It might have been macaroni and cheese, or something similar, but any time James ate at Peter’s it was always just the two of them, wherever in the house they wanted. Saying that, though, sometimes Peter’s mum would come find them halfway through with her own dinner, joining whatever game they were doing as well.
They were some of James’ fondest memories.
4. Peter
Peter had always enjoyed what they got up to in James’ backyard more than his own. James had a giant patch of lawn - perfect for running around, playing with James’ broom, and of course, for playing Hogwarts.
Peter’s backyard just had some grass, which most of the time was halfway to yellow anyway. It wasn’t very fun to play in, on account of the multitude of prickles everywhere .
Anyway, James had trees . Lots and lots of trees - climbing trees, and trees with sap, and some little twiggy ones which were good to spin around - and some perfect for hiding behind in hide and seek, of course. Hide and seek was one of Peter’s favourite games, especially that time he’d climbed to the top of a tree James and him had always seen as too tall and waited, watching James look around but never quite up high enough.
He’d eventually had to climb down and show James where he had been - at which point the other boy had tried to climb up the tree himself and had to be magicked down by his mum.
So, even though James might not think so, his backyard was much better than Peter’s.
Peter wouldn’t have had it any other way.
5. James
Aloo paratha is not something James remembers learning how to make, exactly, he just knows that it’s always been a staple in their house. Peter, however, had not had it as a staple, because James remembers very distinctly, now, the disastrous day that was his attempt to teach Peter how to make it.
Or, at least, he remembers the chaos they’d created afterward - a scene from a storybook, really, with flour everywhere and mashed potato stuck to just about every surface.
They’d… made a few, James is pretty sure. And, of course, had to clean up the kitchen… without magic.
At least they’d had some to eat, right?
6. Peter
One of Peter’s most treasured memories is of the day he’d gone into both Diagon Alley and muggle London with James’ mum; his own mum had gone to see her sister the night before so Peter had stayed over at the Potter’s, and James’ dad worked at the Ministry. So, it’d just been the three of them, leaving the house and being apparated by Euphemia at about ten o’clock. Peter liked apparition even less than flooing, but James’ mum kept hold of both their hands while they all got their bearings back; it made it a lot easier, really. Everything she did made him feel safe.
The first place they’d gone had been into the quidditch shop near Madam Malkin’s, where James went absolutely mental , running up to every other thing and pointing. He explained all the intricacies of pretty much every broom in the shop, then went on to read through a bunch of the plaques on the walls and begged his mum to buy him the most recent version of Quidditch Teams Today , despite (and Peter knew this for a fact) owning the last three copies.
He couldn’t remember all the shops they’d stopped in at; but it had to have been almost all of them. They’d looked through new writing supplies for James’ mum’s office at home, gone through every one of Diagon Alley’s twelve quidditch shops (and eventually bought the new Quidditch Teams Today ), and then ended up in Fortescue’s for a snack.
“What’re you gonna get?” James had asked him excitedly, looking over all the flavours. “I always get a different one, so I think I’ll get the butterbeer one, maybe, or the-”
“Flaming pumpkin juice,” Peter had told him, his eyes locked on said flavour. “It’s my favourite.”
James had nodded, and Euphemia had ordered for the three of them.
“Plum punch again ?” James had asked, as soon as they were all sitting down. His mum had smiled at him, holding some of her ice cream out for him to try on a spoon. James stuck his tongue out at her, but he’d tried to take some of Peter’s not much later - they’d ended up running around all the tables and both getting stitch before they finally fell back onto the chairs at the table, their ice creams gone.
James’ mum had taken both their hands again after, leading them out through the Leaky Cauldron and into - what had been Peter’s first time in - muggle London.
There were people all over, wearing funny tight robes with buttons and carrying very small trunks. He still doesn’t really know the purpose of such small… everything. Anyway, they’d walked down the street and then into a bookshop, where none of the books talked but many had words of magic written on their pages anyway. Peter had got stuck on one in particular, a mid-sized book with the word Wizard right there on the cover. He had wondered if it was breaking the Statue of Secrecy, but he also remembers Euphemia later telling him that muggles had come up with things like magic all on their own. It was fascinating .
He still finds it very interesting, actually. Though, he’s not sure if his mum will let him take muggle studies.
No matter, though, because he still had the book from that day tucked into his shirt drawer. A Wizard of Earthsea , an entirely old muggle invention. Peter’s favourite book. One his own mother wouldn’t approve of, purely for its muggle-isms, as she called them.
Still, it was his. He wasn’t ever going to let go of it.
(nor the small note on the inside of the cover, James’ mum’s handwriting; Peter, enjoy. )
7. James
There’s a day he still doesn’t really remember, but Peter must have been there. He’s sorry he doesn’t remember seeing him at all, but he must have. It had been his mum’s funeral, after all. Peter must have at least said hello.
Even though he never said it back. Not after that. He didn’t even think of him.
He just sat in his big house, on the empty couch, all alone.
Why? Why couldn’t he remember anything else? Why couldn’t he remember any more of Peter? They’d been best friends. They had.
He hopes they can be again.
8. Peter
Peter had boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time by himself, at 10.52am on the first of September, 1996. He’d walked through three compartments full of kids he didn’t recognise and settled in an empty booth right at the back of the train. The only person he spoke to the whole ride was the Hufflepuff prefect who came to him with a smile and told him it was time to get changed into his robes.
He’d taken a boat across the lake with a James, a Remus, and a Sirius. None of the three of them had been particularly happy - at least, there hadn’t been many proper smiles shared between them.
And then they’d seen the castle, and Peter hadn’t cared any more who was smiling and who wasn’t. One of them asked him about houses, one of them mentioned it being quite dark despite the late hour. He couldn't really take his eyes off of the castle, even walking with one of the other boys up to it.
It was nothing like how his mum had described. It was everything .
The professor at the front of the crowd (McGonagall, he’d come to realise) began talking, explaining the houses and then leading them all in for the sorting. The ceiling was covered in stars.
The boy that had left the boat with him was sorted into Gryffindor, and not long after Peter’s name had been called, as well.
“Well,” the hat had begun, “what’s this? So many possibilities… you could fit in almost any house, my boy.”
Peter remembers telling it not to put him in slytherin. His mother had always told him that was a house for only blood purists; he’d known for as long as he could remember that she’d be forever disappointed in him if he came home in a green tie.
“Not slytherin, then,” the hat had said, “and without a drive to figure out new things I’m afraid ravenclaw wouldn’t be the best fit for you either. Hm… perhaps gryffindor?”
But Peter hadn’t felt very brave. He hadn’t even sat with anyone on the train; and only with those boys because they’d all had to get in a boat. The boy he’d walked up to the castle yet had been put in gryffindor but he’d barely said a word, and Peter hadn’t much wanted to end up living in the same common area as someone who might not have liked him.
The other boys in the boat had asked about houses, but he hadn’t been able to remember their own answers.
“Maybe not, maybe not,” the hat had repeated, more to itself than Peter. “Well, you certainly have the chance to be loyal, young man, given the right options.”
Peter hadn’t known what that meant. He still doesn’t. The hat had called out HUFFLEPUFF either way, so he supposed it didn’t really matter much.
And then he’d been walking to the cheering table, and he’d heard a name from professor McGonagall that had almost made him fall over.
“Potter, James.”
He’d turned around so quick he could have almost given himself whiplash, and at first he didn’t know who he was meant to be looking at. There was the unsmiling boy from the boat, the one with the downturned shoulders and quiet eyes.
There was James Potter. Except he wasn’t.
It was as if James had been replaced by a similar-looking clone, a boy who’d kept his unruly hair and terrible eyesight but at first glance very little else. Throughout the next year, Peter found the same kindness, the excitement he’d once known full-force now glaringly toned down but still occasionally present. James, though, didn’t seem present particularly often. Peter asked him to join his house after classes an infinite amount of times, but the other boy always seemed to be busy - doing what, Peter didn’t know. Something with his two dormmates, those two other boys from the boat?
Peter kept asking, though. Even when James never once acknowledged his silence, or even him, Peter , at all.
He kept asking. The hat had told him he could be loyal, after all.
This must have been what it had meant.