FIC: The Memories of a Life We've Yet to Live, PG-13, (3/5)
The Memories of a Life We’ve Yet to Live - Part ThreePairing: Lily/James
Chapter: 3/5
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK. Subtitle and cut-text from Florence&the Machine's 'Never Let Me Go'.
Summary: For James, it had all passed too quickly: one moment he was trying to win Lily’s heart, the next he had it, she became his wife and had his baby. But then just as quickly as he had won her over, a monster came knocking at his door, wanting to take it all away. Screaming and unwilling to accept his fate, he wishes that he could have prevented it all.
Meanwhile, in another world, a Seventh Year James stares into the Mirror of Erised and encounters something that will change everything, and force him to make the hardest decision he will ever have to make.
A/N: Many thanks to _autumncolours for the beta.
Part One / Part Two
+++
Part III- Reflections still look the same
First there is love and then there is panic.
“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run!”
He wants her to be safe; he needs her to be safe. She rushes off with Harry. After that, everything is chaos.
Her name is a chant in his head. LilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLilyLily, and there are a million other frantic thoughts that cloud his mind.
Before him are dangerous red eyes and the face of a thief coming to steal what isn’t his. There’s a wand pointed at him when his own hands are empty. There’s Lily hovering on the staircase when she should be long gone and the sound of her calling his name over and over again.
“Potter!”
He barely hears her over the sound of his pounding heart.
“POTTER!”
He feels someone shaking him. Is it her? How?
He finds his eyes are closed and when he opens them, he’s staring at bright, green eyes. Hers.
“Lily?” he breathes.
Her eyes widen at being called by her first name and the face that had been hovering above him moves away.
He suddenly remembers where he is: in the Gryffindor Common Room, having fallen asleep on the sofa. Immediately, James sits upright and stares agape at Lily.
“Potter,” she greets. “You fell asleep and you looked uncomfortable. It’s late and I didn’t want you to wake up with a crick in your neck.” Her admission makes her cheeks colour slightly and for a moment, she can’t quite look him in the eye. The two of them have an unspoken rule to call each other by their surnames; in a moment of uncertainty, he’d gone ahead and broken that.
His face can’t quite hide the gratitude over Lily’s concern for him and he can sense that Lily finds his smile hard to ignore.
It has been a few weeks since she had called him mean and James had talked to his other self in the mirror. Lily and James have formed a tentative alliance: not quite friends yet, but on the way there; their Head duties forcing them to spend a lot of time together and thus form a bond. Lily’s increasing tolerance of James probably has something to do with the fact that James had curbed his obnoxious behaviour. This in part is slightly due to Lily’s words having an effect on him, but it is also to do with what the older James had said to him. If looking into the mirror and finding an older version of himself had made James reticent, then his second encounter has rendered him greatly subdued and introverted. His mind is in a constant state of confusion and he flits from denial to helplessness and then to anger, all in a day. His behaviour is something of consternation to his friends, but his situation is so out of his control that even he can’t placate their worries.
Even Lily has started to grow worried about him.
“You are okay, aren’t you, Potter? Falling asleep on the sofa, walking around like a zombie - I’m beginning to think there’s something wrong with you.”
James sits upright, does his best to quash the disturbing residues of his dream and raises an eyebrow. “Is that concern I hear in your voice, Evans?”
Lily doesn’t deny it, like he thinks she would have done. She shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe,” she replies. “You’re Head Boy and as Head Girl, it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re compos mentis.” She says in a matter-of-fact and clinical manner, but he’s beginning to know her well enough to realise that she’s joking. Partly.
“I’m perfectly sane,” he reassures her.
“Good. For a moment there I thought I’d have to trade you in with someone else.”
He can’t help it, he grins. “I thought that’s what you’ve always wanted. Don’t deny it; you would rather trade me in for Frank Longbottom.”
“Longbottom, eh? I was thinking more Black.” She smirks at him. “You’re mildly tolerable, most of the time.”
“‘Mildly tolerable’? Thanks Evans, you always do know the right words.”
Lily’s face grows serious. “I’m serious though, Potter. If there was anything that was troubling you, you know that you can come to me, don’t you?”
No, he hadn’t been certain, not until that moment anyway. He nods at her though, and she gives him a quick smile before walking away.
When she’s gone, he exhales deeply. Things between the two of them are changing. They are slowly becoming friends, there’s gentle bantering and she is growing concerned for him. She is starting to care. Not so long ago, he would have been ecstatic about this. But it makes everything - the confusion, the uncertainty and his burden - all the much harder to bear.
+++
The next night, James refuses to go to sleep, knowing full well what it will bring. It will be that horrible night played out in painstaking detail yet again. He will see the horror etched on her face and hear her screaming his name in fright. And when he wakes up in the morning, he will spend half his time trying to dissociate that Lily with the Lily he knows, and the other half convincing himself that the dream would never become reality.
As he trudges down from his dorm room to the Common Room, he’s surprised to see Remus studying in front of the fire, even though Remus is a habitual night studier and James knows this. With everything that has been on his mind lately, peripheral knowledge has been evading him.
“Prongs,” Remus says as he sees James heading towards him.
“Alright, Moony?” James greets, sitting down on the armchair by Remus.
“I’m studying Transfiguration at two am in the morning; I’m definitely not alright.” Remus lets out a yawn and then looks at James with curiosity. “What are you doing up, anyway?”
James shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.” Rather, he wouldn’t sleep, but does not divulge that.
Remus looks at James thoughtfully and a frown forms on his face, but true to his nature, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he returns to his work and James is lost in his thoughts about a man in a mirror and a face that alternates between being a girl’s and a woman’s.
“Moony?” James suddenly pipes up.
Remus lifts his head up. “Yes?”
“Do you think... do you think it’s possible to travel back in time?”
“Well, people can travel back with Time-Turners, though they’re not the easiest to get hold of. Why, thinking of taking a trip back in history?”
“No. I mean other ways. Do you think-,” James stops. Somehow he doesn’t think saying ‘travelling back in time when you’re dead’ is a sane question. Remus is pretty accepting and open-minded, but this one might be a bit strange even for him.
“Actually, you know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s just something I was wondering.”
“Are you sure?” Remus’ gaze on him intensifies.
“Yeah.”
Remus gives him one more quizzical look before returning to his book.
“Wait. Moony?”
Remus looks up again, his gaze patient, though he must be at the end of his tether.
James hesitates. He wants to tell his friend the whole truth, but it’s crazy to his own ears. If he told Remus, surely he’d cart him off to St. Mungo’s, friend or not?
James decides on the partial truth, keen to have his friend’s insight. “I keep having this same dream. Well, nightmare actually. It’s been bothering me.”
This is the first time James has alluded to what’s been on his mind, and Remus looks on with interest.
“I keep dreaming that Lily and I are married.”
Remus gives a little laugh. “And that’s a nightmare?”
“No!” James frowns, because the next part is harder to explain. “I dream that we have a son and that He Who Shall Not Be Named comes after us. He kills me. And though I don’t see it happening, he kills Lily and our...baby.”
Remus’ eyes are wide now. “Oh,” he simply says and then deliberates. James watches on, eager for Remus’ opinion. His friend has always been perceptive and insightful, and what he wants Remus to say is that James has nothing to worry about: the dreams don’t contain a grain of truth, Lily would never marry him and the Dark Lord won’t come after them.
“Prongs, are you worried these dreams might be prophetic?”
“I’m not sure I believe in prophetic dreams,” he mumbles. Remus doesn’t say anything to that, Divination being a subject he takes.
“Maybe these dreams are based on underlying anxieties. Even so, I don’t think these dreams have any basis in reality. Even if you and Lily married (which you know, might happen, but as it currently stands...), there’s no reason for He Who Shall Not Be Named to come after you. He’s dangerous and threatening, but he’s surmountable and, sure, people are worried about him, but I’m certain that’s just people overreacting. The Ministry will sort him out.”
It’s exactly what James wants to hear, though there’s a nagging inside his head that tells him that He Who Shall Not Be Named has every reason to come after James, that people are vastly underestimating what he’s capable of.
“Prongs, is this what has been bothering you?” his friend inquires.
He gives an offhand shrug. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“You can always get a draught to stave off dreams,” Remus suggests. “And if you’re really worried about your dreams’ implications, then maybe talk to Dumbledore.”
James hadn’t thought to get a dreamless draught, but the idea is appealing. He has however, considered seeing Dumbledore, but James’ problem seems far too absurd to bother the headmaster with at this time. If things get worse, then perhaps he’ll visit him then.
“Yeah, I should. Thanks Moony.”
Remus smiles at him, but continues to look at him as though waiting for James to divulge the secret he’s so obviously hiding. James wishes that it was that easy, that he could put into words the things he has seen and learnt, and that his friend would understand, would gather Sirius and Peter and would help James battle this head on. But it’s hard to fight something that isn’t tangible and harder still to fight something James still isn’t sure is real.
+++
The next morning, he trudges rather tiredly down to breakfast. Remus, Sirius and Peter are already there, having risen before him. For a moment, he hovers in the entrance, watching them with envy. Sirius is nicking Remus’ toast, Remus is sighing in exasperation and Peter is busy reading the paper and chomping away at his porridge, oblivious to Sirius’ antics. Their worlds haven’t changed, but James’ has; his view on the world has been irrevocably altered and his friends don’t even know it. He’s different from them now and he hates that.
He can’t look at Peter without wondering what happened to him. Did Voldemort get him? Did he torture him to death? Or was he the betrayer, as his older self wondered? But why would Peter betray James, what reason could he have? This idea confuses him, and he reasons that it must be the former. If it’s true, then James must do everything in his power to protect his friends.
He often wonders about Remus and Sirius. Where were they in all this? Had Voldemort caught them too? Did they suffer the end James did? Or were they alive but powerless to help? The idea of Remus and Sirius having to deal with his and Peter’s deaths pains him, but at least the two of them would have been able to comfort each other, and could have fought even harder to bring Voldemort to justice.
James takes a deep breath. Those events are from another world that isn’t his and that he still hopes isn’t real.
He goes to sit down at the table. Sirius greets him jovially; Peter waves without looking up from his paper and Remus smiles at him in greeting, with a knowing look in his eye to suggest he’s aware that James has just spent the last five minutes hovering in the door entrance.
+++
Every so often, his hand goes to his robe pocket and touches the dreamless draught there. It reassures him of a peaceful night’s sleep to come, and he really needs that right now.
He’s tired, but does his patrol with Lily without complaint. When they first started doing their patrols together, James would be the one to do the talking, though what he had to say used to vex Lily, both intentionally and not. But then his world changed and his priorities had shifted and being with Lily elicited tumultuous feelings: on the one hand, he revels in her presence and exults in the familiar, intense feelings that being around her brings; on the other hand, every time he sees her, all he can think about is what happened to them in his dreams.
He lets Lily do the talking now, because trying to impress her by regaling her with pointless gibberish isn’t his priority anymore - keeping her alive in this reality is. Even so, he feels a hundred miles from that boy who used immature methods to get Lily’s attention. He prefers to listen to her and learn everything there is to her - something he never thought to do before. Knowing what could happen to her - to them - it seems vital to commit everything about her to memory.
“Hey Potter?” Lily suddenly says, after a few minutes have passed in them walking in silence.
He turns to her. “Yeah?”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
The random question throws him. “Huh?”
Lily repeats the question.
“Oh,” he says. “No. I always wanted one though. A younger brother or sister would have been great.”
“I have an older sister,” she informs him.
“I know.”
Lily looks at him in surprise. “You do?”
“I’ve heard you talk about her. She sounds... interesting.”
Lily snorts. “Petunia and I don’t get on. We used to, but my coming here changed everything. I guess it must be hard for an older sibling to see their sister go to this magical place only for them to be left behind, and for the sibling to return time and time again with all these stories and achievements, when they’re still in the same place they were left.”
James can’t possibly understand what it must be like for two Muggle siblings to find out that one of them is special and the other isn’t, but he knows it can’t be easy. “She could at least pretend to be happy for you. You didn’t ask for this, after all.”
“Petunia’s forte isn’t graciousness,” she says. “And I don’t wish her away; it’s just that sometimes I think it would be easier if I didn’t have a sibling. There would be none of that rivalry.”
“But it would be lonely.”
“Better than feeling like an outcast.”
They reach the end of the corridor and proceed up the stairs.
“How come you asked me whether I had any brothers or sisters?” James asks.
Lily shrugs. “I realised I don’t know much about you, even though we’ve been spending so much time together.”
He’s about to say that he knows a lot about her, when he realises that actually he doesn’t. What her habits are and being able to decipher the mood she is in by the tiniest facial expression doesn’t really count. He doesn’t know the important things like where she lives, what her favourite foods are and what she wants to be when she finishes school.
“I don’t really know anything about you,” he admits. But he should, shouldn’t he, after all those years of pining after her?
“We’ve known each other for almost seven years, spent classes together and shared a Common Room and all I know is that you’re far too obsessed with Quidditch, your hair, your friends and showing off. Oh, and being obnoxious.”
“I’ll have you know that my hair is high-maintenance and thus very important to me. And to those other points, yes, well, I happen to like being obnoxious, thank you very much.”
Lily snorts.
“You’re right, but you only know those things because you hated me for so long,” he says.
“I didn’t hate you.”
He looks at her pointedly.
“Okay,” she admits. “I disliked you immensely. But that isn’t hate.”
“How reassuring.”
“Well, you’ve changed. You’re more bearable now.”
“Or maybe you’ve just got used to me.”
She laughs and he enjoys listening to it. She’s incredibly soothing.
“Evans,” he begins and he’s about to go on about something or another when Lily cuts in.
“Lily,” she says.
“That’s not my name.”
“Oh really?” Lily rolls her eyes playfully. “It’s mine. Maybe you should use it; surnames grow a bit tiresome after a while.”
He stares at her in shock. How long has he been waiting for an invitation to call her by her first name? And now her name has been presented like a gift in his hands. It starts off with a name, he thinks. But then what? If I start calling her by her given name, how long until it’s something else? Her complete friendship? Her heart? Her everything? How long until it’s too late to turn back and stop a certain destiny from happening?
James doesn’t remember when the surname calling had started (though he felt like he was the one who initiated it), but it always felt that Lily held the power with regards to their names: Lily was always free to call James by his first name if she so desired; Lily’s name seemed forbidden and punishable if uttered without consent. He’s said her name a million times in his head but only very rarely out loud. He looks uncertain about the prospect of calling her by her given name, and Lily notices immediately.
She nudges him gently with her elbow. “Go on,” she whispers conspiratorially. “I’ve heard you say it before.”
He finds himself uncharacteristically blushing, still embarrassed by that outburst. Is Lily really the one goading now? He thinks. How things change.
“You caught me at a vulnerable moment,” he mumbles.
Lily’s smirking his trademark smirk now. “Dreaming of me, were you?”
James snorts. He had been, but not in the way she thinks. Nonetheless, it’s his turn to tease her. “Oh yes. You were in this magnificent bikini-,”
“Shut up, Potter,” comes her reply, cutting him off but she’s smiling anyway.
“Ah, I see you don’t even know my first name.”
“Is it Idiot?”
“Close, but not quite.”
“I heard a rumour that it’s James.”
He smiles and she says it again, as if trying it out and he loves the way it sounds on her lips.
Their patrol is coming to an end, though he doesn’t want it to. He likes getting to know her without the usual distractions, and in these corridors it’s just him and her talking about everything and nothing. Her presence truly calms him in a way that nothing has been able to, and he finds irony in that: the one person implicit in what has subverted his world is the one person able to soothe him.
+++
There’s a book solely dedicated to prophecies in the library, and James begins to spend his spare time reading it, hoping it would provide answers.
It doesn’t.
After many hours wasted in the library, he is still unable to figure out how reliable prophecies are, and he begins to grow frustrated. James is quickly narrowing his range of avenues to explore: there’s absolutely no record of anyone dying and returning to their past in attempt to make amends, nothing about the Mirror of Erised portraying anything other than one’s truest desire and there’s certainly no advice about changing one’s future from what’s been ‘pre-ordained’ .
James is about to fling the book across the library when a shadow casts itself over his table. When he looks up, he finds Sirius standing over the table.
“Prongs,” Sirius greets and James notes the slight disapproval in his voice. And is that disappointment there too?
“Hello Padfoot.” James’ response is laced with tiredness.
Sirius sits down opposite him. “What are you doing?”
The book is open on a page evidently about prophecies and destiny, and the two of them stare at its glaring words.
“Uh, studying?”
They both know James doesn’t do Divination.
“Right,” Sirius replies.
Silence.
“Prongs, you do know what today is, don’t you?”
He’s about to reply that of course he knows what day it is, it’s Tuesday, when he suddenly realises.
“Oh, shit! I completely forgot!”
“Evidently,” Sirius retorts.
“Padfoot, I’m so sorry - it just slipped my mind, with everything that’s been going on. Where is he? Has he gone? Has he changed?”
Sirius eyes him warily, as though trying to figure out how James could forget something as important as their best friend’s transformation.
“No,” he answers. “He’s about to leave shortly. I just came to find you to see if you still wanted to come.”
“Of course I want to come! How could you say such a thing? I just forgot. I’ve had a lot on my mind-,”
“Really?” Sirius’ tone is still doubtful. “I wasn’t sure whether or not being Head Boy had taken over your life.”
The idea that his new role would ever be more important to him than his friends hurts him, but he understands that it must appear that way. And he hates that.
“Of course it hasn’t.” James’ voice is sharp; the annoyance that his friends don’t understand him is unfounded, but evident in his voice. “I’m going, alright? Just give me a moment.” He collects his stuff together hastily and heads out of the library ahead of Sirius, annoyed at his friend for being judgemental, annoyed with himself for forgetting about Remus and tired of having to live so many secret lives.
+++
When he first became Head Boy, James was uncertain whether he’d be able to maintain his monthly excursion, knowing he’d be breaking the rules in the highest way possible whilst holding a position of absolute trust. In the end, he promised himself that he wouldn’t change just because he held a position of authority; rather he’d go with Remus and the others in order to help his friend. Their trips would no longer be an excuse for adventure, but a necessity.
James had been fine with these arrangements, but now he’s beginning to struggle.
He’s no longer the one taking charge and racing ahead; he lingers at the back, watching cautiously as Remus runs rampant through the forest, Sirius chases after him and Peter perches on Sirius’ back. They’re all enjoying themselves and living for the moment; James is the one checking over and over again to make sure they’re all safe from whatever danger may lie ahead.
Sirius frequently stops what he’s doing to turn back and look at James, and it’s a strange sight: a fearsome dog staring unafraid at a magnificent stag. But James sees Sirius in every aspect of the dog’s face, can understand what he’s truly thinking:
What happened to you, Prongs? And why are you being who you are now?
And James wants to scream at the top of his lungs, and he wants to lash out at everything in his path. He wants to run away from his problems; he wants to sit down each of his friends and explain:
Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail, I wish you could see what I see; I’m envious that you can’t. I know you think that I’m betraying you by distancing myself, but I’m not. Can’t you see that this world isn’t what we thought it was? It’s no longer safe, and the forest is no longer our back garden- it’s bigger and scarier than that. And there’s a deep darkness lurking in the dark and it’s waiting. Remus isn’t the scariest thing in the forest anymore and we’re not as invincible as we thought we were. Beyond Hogwarts’ walls we’re nothing, and no matter how strong we think we are, we’re not; we’re completely and utterly fallible.
But all James does is look at Sirius and hopes with every fibre of his being that his friend will one day understand.
+++
“Surely your very being here changes everything? I know of my future, so doesn’t that mean that certain things that happened with you will not happen that way with me, or can be avoided altogether? For example, Peter doesn’t have to be my Secret Keeper, or that possibility can be eliminated entirely by not having a child - at that point in time anyway.”
Mirror James snorts. “Harry wasn’t exactly planned, James. We were young and there was a war going on; we honestly didn’t think we could bring a baby up in that environment, but it happened... and we did. We started off with the best intentions, but Harry happened anyway.” He looks aggrieved about the son he didn’t get to keep, but he takes a few breaths and tries to hide it. “What I’m saying is, I’ve also thought about what my being here means, and what that means for the prophecy. But the thing about prophecies - the ones that are real, that is - is that no matter how much you try and stop them from happening, invariably they end up being fulfilled. Lily and I found out about the prophecy after she fell pregnant, but I feel that even if we had known about it, no matter the precautions we took, she still would have fallen pregnant anyway. And likewise if Peter hadn’t been our Secret Keeper, He Who Shall Not Be Named would have still found out our whereabouts through whoever was the Secret Keeper.”
James frowns. “But then, doesn’t that mean you - I - we can’t change the future?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I didn’t have a plan coming here; in fact, it wasn’t much of a choice, more desperation, so I don’t have the answers that I wish I had. But the one thing I do believe is that if I couldn’t change anything, then I wouldn’t have been brought back.”
This confuses James even more. “So you were brought back to change things, but the prophecy remains the same?”
“Only if the prophecy comes into existence, or is foretold. He Who Shall Not Be Named came after us because he believed the prophecy, so maybe if it’s never heard, it will be different? Of course, there’s always the chance of someone else foretelling a similar prophecy, or another one springing up. No, I think the way to combat this is to eliminate everything that is in the prophecy altogether.”
And James nods at his older self, as though he understands what he means.
+++
James’ favourite day of the year is Halloween and he loves everything about it. He loves that it is a day to celebrate being a wizard, that he can don full wizarding robes, that he can consume as much food as he wants whilst celebrating in the Great Hall with his friends and listening to whatever live entertainment Dumbledore has issued.
This year, it’s the Gruesome Ghouls: a group of singing and dancing ghouls that change form according to the music, and James finds them more amusing than he should.
Beside him sits Remus, who is watching the ghouls in enthrallment; opposite James sits Peter, who is laughing and clapping along. Occasionally, he will catch James’ eye and the two of them will mouth the well-known lyrics together; next to Peter sits Sirius, who taps his fingers along to the music but deliberately avoids James’ gaze.
When Sirius does look his way, James offers a smile that Sirius promptly ignores and James lets out a sigh. His friend has been at odds with him since Remus’ transformation, and every time James tries to reconcile with him, Sirius demands to know what is going on with James. But it’s something he can’t answer. He wouldn’t even know where to begin.
Instead of dwelling on his friend, he decides to fill his plate with pudding and just as he’s reaching for the treacle tart, he catches sight of Lily in his peripheral vision. She’s sitting with her friends a few seats down and on the opposite side, and is piling her plate with every kind of dessert within reach. The sight of her loaded plate makes him laugh and Lily’s not so far away that she doesn’t hear him.
Her eyes meet his and with an innocent look, she mouths, “What?” at him.
He playfully rolls his eyes, points at the lone treacle tart on his plate and then points at the assortment on hers.
She shrugs, picks up a profiterole with her fingers and stuffs it in her mouth.
“Good?” he mouths.
Another profiterole vanishes from her plate and she nods and gives him the thumbs-up sign.
She points at his tart and James tries a bit. He chews, ruminates and then gives the so-so gesture with his hand.
Lily gives him a pitying look, but this instantly vanishes when she digs into something else on her plate.
James spends a few moments watching her eat, loving the fact that she has a ridiculously sweet tooth and isn’t afraid to indulge that.
When she looks up at him, he grins at her, brushes the side of his mouth and looks at her pointedly. He then watches as she self-consciously brings her hand to her mouth and wipes at her face. When she realises that there’s nothing there, she glares at him, James’ grin widens and the next thing he knows, a profiterole is flying straight at him. He catches it easily and pops it in his mouth.
“Thanks,” he mouths at her and Lily shakes her head, aghast at the loss of her profiterole.
Still smiling, he turns to look back at his friends, only to find Sirius fixing him with a thunderous expression.
+++
After the feast, the Gryffindors continue the festivities in the Common Room. For one night, homework is forgotten and instead people play games, dance to music, laugh and chat and generally have a good time.
James spies Lily sitting in an armchair, looking a bit green and a sight for sorry eyes. He’s about to go over and console her when suddenly, he feels a stabbing pain in his chest.
He lets out a small cry and Remus, who is engaged in a card game with Peter, stops what he’s doing and looks at him.
“Are you alright, Prongs?”
James places a hand on his chest. “Heartburn,” he manages to wheeze out. But he knows what heartburn feels like, and this isn’t it.
The pain intensifies and makes him feel nauseous and light-headed. He feels as though he’s been badly cursed and he finds himself slightly staggering.
“James, maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing,” Peter mumbles, unaccustomed to seeing his friend like this.
“Yeah, you don’t look too good,” Remus adds, concern etched upon his face.
“I think I will,” he manages to say between gasps.
“Do you want us to come with you?” Peter enquires.
James shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”
As he stumbles out of the Common Room, he catches a glimpse of Sirius standing on the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. Sirius looks at him with curiosity, and there’s barely disguised concern there too.
+++
James doesn’t go to the Hospital Wing, though that had been his intention. Instead, his feet start heading in another direction on their own accord. Soon, he finds himself in an abandoned but familiar classroom.
He’s still in pain, but not so discomforted that he doesn’t notice how eerie the classroom looks: the moonlight pours in through the windows and dances off the mirror, the dusty tables, chairs and random ornaments, casting shadows where there shouldn’t be. It seems colder than usual and the silence seems starker.
Slowly and with great effort, James makes his way towards the mirror, which remains blank even when he looks straight into it.
The pain around his chest grows tighter and his breathing grows more laboured. Being here in this state seems ridiculous and yet he’s certain that this is the one place he must be right now.
James places a hand against the mirror and calls his own name. For a few moments, nothing happens and he thinks that maybe his mirror self had vanished. Then suddenly the mirror grows cloudy and someone appears.
“James,” his older self greets in surprise. “What are you doing here?” He seems agitated today (more so than usual) and there’s an air about him that suggests he doesn’t want company, but James stays anyway.
“I’m not feeling too good,” he admits. “I feel sick and in pain, but it’s nothing like I’ve felt before. It feels like something bad has happened to me.” He studies his mirror self and notes the pallor of his face and the uneasiness there. “I thought it might have been something I ate and I was on my way to the Hospital Wing but found myself here instead and suddenly I thought: it’s today, isn’t it?”
The other James is standing ever so still and for a moment, James doesn’t think he will answer. Then slowly (and rather sadly) he nods.
This news upsets James. On this day, in a few years’ time (and in the other James’ past), James and his family will die. It’s still something he has trouble comprehending.
“Halloween is my favourite day,” he murmurs. Now it will be marked in another way.
“I know,” Mirror James replies a little dejectedly, and then looks at him. “Where is it you’re in pain?”
James motions to his chest area. “Although it hurts all over,” he admits.
Mirror James places a hand near his heart. “This was where the Killing Curse struck. I can’t feel pain, but if I think about it, I can almost feel it. Maybe that is why you’re in pain, because you’re enduring the pain I’m thinking of.”
At the back of his mind lies fragments of the memories that aren’t his: a glimpse of the Dark Lord barging into his home, Lily running up the stairs with Harry, Lily shouting, James dying, her and Harry next...
Ow, he thinks. Ow, ow, ow. The James in the mirror isn’t the only one reliving these memories; the pain of what it feels like to die isn’t the only pain he’s feeling.
James lowers his gaze. “What happened to you sounds awful.”
Mirror James nods. “Which is why it can’t happen again. Just thinking that Lily and Harry went through the same thing is absolute torture and I-,” he stops suddenly, and James thinks it’s because he’s overcome with emotion. But his eyes are wide with shock and fixated on something behind James. Just as he’s about to follow his gaze, a voice cuts in:
“What the fuck is this?”
James spins around wildly, only to find Sirius standing before him, half concealed with the invisibility cloak, but very much present.