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Author: Antonia East Story: Fathoming the Mind of a Werewolf Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 2 Words: 40,807
The summer had renewed James’s affections for his lifestyle at home, yet he had also missed Hogwarts: the dorm, his four-poster, the Gryffindor common room…he would even be pleased to see Professor McGonagall when he got back to school. He’d be even happier to see Snape; he’d just stocked up on dungbombs. There were no twinges of doubt or panic when James boarded the Hogwarts Express to start his second year. Clutching his beloved broomstick, he had to try not to look too eager about leaving his parents. Before long, the journey began, and James settled down in a compartment with Remus, Sirius and Peter. It was only when they alighted at the Hogsmeade Station did James get a shock. He waved at Hagrid, who was calling the tiny first-years to him. James grinned at them. “We never looked that titchy, did we?” he asked. “Peter still does,” Sirius said, as the four of them turned to the carriages that took the returning students to the school. James glanced at the nearest carriage, gave a start, and stared at it. His hand dropped to his wand in his pocket. “James, what’s wrong?” “What is that?” James asked in a hoarse voice. ‘That’ was just about the most gruesome thing he’d ever seen. It was, he supposed, a horse. Except it was like no horse that James had ever come across. Large, bony wings sprouted from its withers, and the beast seemed to have no flesh or skin at all. It was skeletal and decayed. As he stared, the nearest one turned its face to him. The eye socket was empty, but the creature could sense him, he was sure. He felt sick. “Earth to James! Are you coming or not?” Sirius had a hand on a carriage door. He was standing inches away from the skeletal monster. James pulled himself together. If Sirius could go near it, then he could. He got in the carriage, trying not to look at the thing as he went past it, and slamming the door shut with relief. “Why do you think they’ve got those things pulling the carriages now?” he asked the others. “What?” asked Peter. Sirius frowned. “There’s nothing pulling the carriages. Never has been.” “Yes, there is!” said James. “You were standing right by it, Sirius.” Sirius laughed. “Very funny, James. There was nothing there.” “I saw it,” James insisted. “It was a massive horse. Well, it was just a skeleton of a horse, really. And it had wings.” “What did you eat on the train?” asked Peter. “Something must have disagreed with you.” “Something dodgy in the Cauldron Cakes,” Sirius said, grinning. James ran his hand through his hair. He wasn’t going mad; he had seen it, hadn’t he? “It’s all right, James. You must have seen a Thestral.” Remus reaffirmed James’s sanity. “Thank Merlin for that,” James said. “What’s a Thestral?” “It’s a winged, skeletal horse, like you said,” Remus said. “Except that you can only see one if you’ve seen someone die.” “Eurgh,” said Peter. “Wicked,” said Sirius. “And you can see them?” James remembered that evening in his grandmother’s room. “Yeah.” “I didn’t know they pulled the Hogwarts carriages,” Remus said. “How did you know what they are, anyway?” Peter asked. “I re-” “-read it in a book,” chorused James and Sirius. Remus grinned and settled himself into the padded seat with a happy sigh. “And if I hadn’t, we’d be taking James to Madam Pomfrey to have his head examined.” “Not that that wouldn’t be a good idea, anyway,” Sirius said. James hit Sirius, feeling hugely happy to be back as he did so. The Sorting passed without incident; the four of them happily ‘booed’ anyone who joined Slytherin house and applauded the new Gryffindors, who included Gideon Prewett’s little brother, Fabian. Between his usual reminders that the Forbidden Forest was strictly out of bounds, and that magic was prohibited in the corridors, Dumbledore also told the students that they were not to go near the Whomping Willow. At that, the whole school turned to the Hufflepuff table, where Davy Gudgeon (thankfully, with both eyes intact) was seated, blushing down at the tablecloth. Once they got him alone, James and Sirius told Peter of their plan. He looked unsure, but was, as usual, won over by the other two’s enthusiasm. They decided not to tell Remus. They thought that it would take them a month or two to become Animagi, and they wanted to surprise him. Becoming an Animagus, Sirius and James read, was extremely difficult (it didn’t deter them in the slightest) and illegal for wizards who were not of age to attempt (a positive inducement). Even adult wizards had to register themselves on a list of Animagi kept by the Ministry. James and Sirius felt such petty rules to be beneath them. They didn’t tell Peter that they were breaking the law and felt that it was another reason why Remus shouldn’t know what they were doing until they had accomplished it, as he might try to stop them. When he wasn’t doing lessons or poring over advanced Transfiguration books, James had another consuming pastime. Now that they were in their second year, they were allowed to bring their brooms to school and could try out for the house Quidditch team. A seventh-year called Jeremy Meadowes was the new Captain, taking over from Rachel Estrey, who’d left last year, vacating a Chaser spot. Meadowes was the Gryffindor Keeper, and he was determined to raise Gryffindor from the depths of defeat into which they had descended over the last few years. Gideon Prewett, now in his fifth year, was a Chaser, along with Graham Bell, of the same year. Dorcas Wood, a tall, thickset seventh-year, was the team’s one remaining Beater. There was a large crowd on the morning of the tryouts. James, Sirius and Frank walked down together, broomsticks in hand. As it was a sunny day, Lily and Alice, Remus and Peter went with them to watch. Lily was carrying a thick book ‘just in case’. James, Sirius and Frank joined the group of hopefuls, who were shuffling and talking at the foot of the goalposts. All were clutching their brooms tightly. James scanned the opposition: a Nimbus 1001, not bad; an out-of-date Cleansweep, poor; an ancient Bluebottle, laughable. He beamed down at his Cloudduster. They didn’t have a chance. The members of the Gryffindor team walked out together from the changing rooms. Gideon winked at James and Sirius as he passed. Meadowes scowled at the assembled crowd, but Dorcas Wood shot them a reassuring smile as she followed her captain onto the pitch. Meadowes was looking for a Chaser, a Beater, and a Seeker, and he split them up according to which position they wanted to play. James was taken to the end of the pitch with the rest of the Chasers, while Sirius went with the large crowd of prospective Beaters, and Frank with the few who fancied themselves as Seekers. The exercises were simple. The Seekers had to catch the small training Snitches, the Chasers had to get the Quaffle past Meadowes and into the goal, and the Beaters had to direct the Bludgers as accurately as possible towards the others under Dorcas’s direction. James had watched Gideon and Graham carefully in matches and practices last year and had memorised some of their formations. He flew with them well, passing the ball back and fourth seamlessly. After forty-five minutes, he reckoned he’d got the position. Meadowes had only managed to stop about half of his goals, whereas some of the others hadn’t even scored at all. Feeling pretty pleased with himself, he flew down to join the others. “How do you think it went?” asked Frank. James noticed that he was fingering one of the training snitches. “Good,” James said. “You?” “Yeah, all right,” Frank said. “I got the Snitch quite quickly, of course; these training ones aren’t the same, but…” “What about you?” James asked Sirius. Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Defoe’s really good, and he can aim. Bet he’ll get it.” James clapped him on the back in sympathy, and they made their way to where Remus, Peter, Lily, and Alice were sitting. Remus and Lily were deep in discussion over Lily’s book, which Remus seemed to have read, as well; apparently, they hadn’t watched much of the try-out. “Do you have to look as though you’re about to knock yourself out all the time, Frank?” Alice asked. “I don’t like it when you fly towards the ground like that.” Frank chortled. “Sorry, Alice; Seekers have to be able to dive.” A little later, Meadowes called all the fliers back onto the pitch. “Thanks for trying out, everybody,” he said. “Unfortunately, we want to win this year, so not all of you can be on the team.” Dorcas Wood elbowed him. “What Jeremy means,” she said, “is that it was a very hard decision, but, of course, there aren’t enough places for everybody.” Meadowes coughed. “Yes. Anyway, here are the new members of the team. Seeker: Longbottom, Beater: Defoe, Chaser: Potter.” James was torn between dancing up and down in delight at getting on the team and commiserating with Sirius. “Well done,” Sirius said to him and Frank. James and Frank were saying ‘Bad luck,’ when Dorcas Wood strode over. “Hey, Black, isn’t it?” Sirius nodded. “You did well out there. Once you’re a bit bigger, you’ll be a decent Beater.” She headed off towards the changing rooms. Sirius tried to look offended. “A bit bigger,” he said, scowling at Dorcas’s departing figure. “Just because she’s practically a giantess.” But James thought that Sirius actually looked rather pleased. ~*~ “When are you next, er, visiting your mum?” Sirius asked Remus later that evening. “In a week,” Remus said, leafing through his Potions notes. “Does anyone know how many lacewings you need if the bloodmoss wasn’t gathered at full moon?” “Three ounces,” said Sirius. “So, where do you go, anyway?” Remus looked over his shoulder. The common room was buzzing with voices and laughter. Over by the fire, Frank had just lost his eyebrows to a game of Exploding Snap. Alice was inspecting the damage, while Lily was clutching her sides, her face pink. “There’s a place in Hogsmeade. It’s safe.” “Cool,” James said. “I like Hogsmeade. Zonko’s is fantastic. Dad used to take me there if I was really good.” “Well, I don’t get much time for shopping,” Remus said, running his finger down a list of potion ingredients. “Of course, once I’d been to Zonko’s I wasn’t good for ages, because I was busy using everything I’d bought,” James went on. “So, what - do you just walk down to Hogsmeade?” Sirius asked, leaning over Remus’s table, his eyes alight with interest. Remus lowered his parchment. “Are you going to let me do this?” He looked at his pile of homework. “Nope,” Sirius said. “Come on, Remus. I want to know.” Remus closed his textbook, marking his place with his finger. “It’s not that exciting. Madam Pomfrey takes me down a tunnel to a hut in Hogsmeade. Afterwards, she comes and takes me back to school. Happy?” “No,” said James, the delights of Zonko’s forgotten. “Does the tunnel start at Hogwarts?” “Yes, in the grounds.” “Where?” asked Peter. “Beneath the Whomping Willow.” Remus reopened his book and tried to look interested in it. James took it out of his hands and put it on the table. “How do you get through? I can’t see old Pomfrey dodging the branches.” Remus smiled briefly at the image. “No, the Willow stops for a few seconds if you press the knot on the trunk with a stick.” Sirius’s draw dropped. “You mean, you knew! You sat there while we tried to touch it, and you knew how to get past all along.” Remus shot him a pained look. Sirius hadn’t troubled to keep his voice down. “Of course I did,” he hissed. “What else would I have done?” “So, you’re saying that there’s a secret tunnel, that no one knows how to get into, that leads to a hut in Hogsmeade,” James said. Remus looked worried. “Ye-es.” “Shall we explore it tonight, then?” “No.” The panic was evident even in Remus’s whisper. “I don’t want to go there.” “I don’t think we should,” Peter agreed. Remus shot him a grateful look. Sirius caught James’s eye for a fleeting second. “No, no, whatever you say,” he said. James strained his ears. Peter’s heavy breathing was easy to make out. So was Frank’s light snoring. With Remus, it was harder to tell. Lighting his wand, he pulled his parchment and a quill from the pocket of his jeans. He hadn’t bothered undressing tonight. He tapped the parchment. Do you think he’s asleep? He wrote. Sirius’s bed was between his and Remus’s. I think so. Can’t hear anything , came the instant reply. They’d just have to be silent, then. He grabbed his thick wool cloak and his I nvisibility Cloak from under his pillow and slid out of bed. At the portrait hole, James pulled the cloak over him and Sirius, and, together, they tiptoed out of the castle and down to the Whomping Willow. “Right, can you see a stick?” “No. Can you?” Sirius cast a baleful look at the thrashing Whomping Willow. “It’s going to have to be a really long one.” Finally, they found a long, dead branch. James crouched down on the soggy grass and leant as close to the tree as he could. “See if you can find the knot,” he told Sirius. Sirius directed his wand-light towards the base of the tree. James made out the knot and tried to touch it with the branch. After a few attempts, the tree froze. “Wow,” Sirius said, gazing at the motionless branches, as though it was unusual to see a tree that didn’t swing its branches like a prize boxer. “Quick,” James called, and the two of them ran to the trunk. “Where’s the tunnel?” James asked, looking about. “There!” said Sirius, pointing to a gap between the roots. They slipped through, into a low, black, earthy space. The light from their wands illuminated only a few feet in front of them. The darkness seemed to eat the light. They were no longer under the Invisibility Cloak, but they walked close together, anyway, their backs hunched. The tunnel began to rise, and James and Sirius were panting at the steep incline when the path ahead twisted sharply. Not far off, the tunnel wasn’t as dark as it had been. As they approached, they realised that it was an opening. James scrambled out of the hole and looked about him. He passed his wand over the boarded up windows, the scratched walls, the savaged furniture, and the stains on the floorboards. “Is that blood?” he asked. Beside him, Sirius gulped. “I think it is, yeah.” Although neither of them particularly wanted to now, they explored the rest of the hut. Most of the rooms were filled with disorderly piles of clothes, drapes, and furniture. Sirius jumped when James started coughing loudly as the dust from them got up his nose and into his lungs. In a slightly tidier room, Sirius grimaced when they found a large four-poster bed. “Imagine having to sleep here.” “I thought you wanted to sleep in the forest,” James said Sirius stuck his tongue out. “You know what I mean.” James remembered the blood stains downstairs and made a metal note to research what happened during a werewolf transformation. “I don’t suppose that’s the part that bothers Remus.” They climbed down the rickety stairs again and, this time, headed for the front door, if it could be called that. The hut wasn’t the sort of place to have a front door. It was locked. “ Alohamora ,” Sirius said, but the door wouldn’t budge. James was examining the boarded windows. One of the planks of wood was slightly loose. He pulled it back and squinted out of the crack. They were at one end of the village, he saw. There were houses a little way off, at the bottom of the hill. Just then, he heard voices. He beckoned Sirius over. “Here! Roger, come back.” A man was weaving his way up the hill. A second man, the one who had shouted, was halfway up, and seemed unwilling to come closer. “Whassat?” shouted Roger, who was swaying. His voice was slurred. “You scared?” “Aye,” called his friend. “They say this place is haunted. I’ve heard them ghosts myself, and they was real all right. Nothing’s going to get me near the Shrieking Shack, and I’d advise you to stay clear, if you value your head.” Roger swore and laughed. “You didn’t believe that rubbish down the ‘Hog’s Head,’ did you?” “Awooo!” howled Sirius. Roger’s companion yelled and scarpered. Roger, still swaying, cast wide eyes at the hut. Sirius howled again, and the man stumbled and set off down the hill, while James and Sirius doubled up on the dirty, dusty floorboards, their laughter echoing through the little building and down the hillside. ~*~ “Potter, that wasn’t GOOD enough,” roared Jeremy Meadowes. “Prewett was open, and you missed him.” James wiped a grimy hand over his glasses, leaving them dirtier than they had been. “Sorry,” he grunted. Meadowes, whose robes were splattered with mud, lobbed the Quaffle back to him. The ball nearly slipped out of James’s hands, but he made a grab and clutched it to him, breathing hard. “Don’t be sorry, be better,” Meadowes said. He flew to his place, in front of the middle goal post. “Don’t worry,” Graham said to James as the Chasers resumed their places. “He’s just nervous about Saturday.” James’s stomach lurched. Meadowes wasn’t the only one nervous about their first match, although he wasn’t about to admit it. Quidditch was the most important thing to him at the moment, and he had to perform well. He felt sick at the thought of letting his teammates down. Meadowes turned on Graham. “I’m only nervous about Saturday because the Slytherins will wipe the floor with us unless we start playing like a Gryffindor Quidditch team rather than a load of Hufflepuff first-years. LONGBOTTOM!” Meadowes had to roll off his broom to avoid Frank, who had just sped past. Frank pulled up and shook the hair out of his face. “Sorry, Jeremy.” “Well, why did you stop? You NEVER stop without the Snitch.” Frank hung his head. “Stop it.” Dorcas Wood flew over towards the goals, her Beater’s bat raised. “Jeremy, they’re only second-years. We’ve been practising for hours, and they’re tired. They are good fliers; you shouting at them will not make them any better.” It was hard to tell under the mud, but James thought that Meadowes might have turned rather red. “I’m the Captain, Wood, in case you hadn’t noticed. Get back.” He spat out the word ‘Wood’, although he usually called her by her first name. Dorcas didn’t flinch. “Being the Captain doesn’t stop you being an idiot, Meadowes.” She stressed his surname ominously. Meadowes definitely was red in the face. He looked as though he were about to reply, but changed his mind, perhaps because Dorcas’s bat was still raised. “Longbottom, Wood, back to positions. We’ll do this until we get it right.” When James finally landed, pins and needles shot up his legs, and he nearly crumpled. “Don’t worry,” Dorcas said, as she landed beside him. “This term’s training is the worst part of the year. It’s just the mud that makes it miserable, really. That and our Captain.” James had noticed the mud. Every time he went to or from the pitch, he was caked up past his ankles in mud. As the practice went on, the Quaffle would become more and more slippery with gloopy mud, which transferred itself to his hands and from them to his broom handle, making it impossible to grip. “That is, unless you mind the cold,” Graham Bell put in, clapping James on the back, leaving muddy handprints on his robes. “Because next term it’ll get freezing.” “It’s when your hands actually freeze onto your broom handle - that’s the annoying part,” said Gideon Prewett, getting off his broom with a groan. “Yes, well, it’s better than being too hot, anyway,” said Meadowes, who seemed determined to be in a foul mood. “If the sun’s too bright, you can’t see a damn thing.” James grinned. He loved Quidditch, even if he was cold and wet and aching. His legs were so stiff that he could barely walk. He got back on his broom and flew up to his dormitory window. Sirius was sitting on his bed. James thumped on the glass, his tired brain registering faint amusement as Sirius started and looked about him, before coming to the window. “Are the stairs not good enough for you?” he asked, as he opened the window and shivered at the blast of cold air. “Not when I can’t walk up them,” James said, flying to his bed and dropping down onto it. His soft pillows and dry cover felt so good. “Anyhow, James, I was doing the concentrating thing that the Burnaby book was on about.” James had no idea what Sirius meant. “You know, you have to focus really hard on the spells, and then you should see the animal.” “Oh. That.” James tried to summon his enthusiasm. “Yes, that!” Sirius was practically bouncing up and down. The still-working part of James’s brain knew that he should be very interested in what Sirius was about to say, and that part of him was. But the rest of him was being swamped by the sensations of being warm and lying down and not being shouted at by a mud-covered madman. Sirius was still bouncing. It was quite distracting, really. “I saw it! I saw the animal.” “That’s nice,” James said, closing his eyes. Sirius growled. “Aren’t you going to ask me what it was?” “No,” James muttered into his pillow. With that, he rolled over and, still fully clothed and hugging his broomstick to his chest, he fell asleep.
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