A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 20: The Looming Shadow of Summer

Chapter 20: The Looming Shadow of Summer

The library was abuzz with quiet tension, the kind that only appeared during exam season. Sixth years huddled at tables piled high with books, parchment, and half-empty inkpots, the scent of aged paper mingling with the faint tang of anxiety. Quills scratched feverishly as students revised for their OWLs, their heads bent in concentration.

At a table near the back, James Potter sat with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, his Transfiguration textbook propped open in front of him. He tapped his quill against the edge of the table, his brows furrowed as he muttered under his breath.

"Transfigure a hedgehog into a pincushion," he mumbled. "Easy enough, right? Except that McGonagall keeps saying mine still looks too... hedgehoggy."

"That's because you're rubbish at finesse," Sirius said lazily, leaning back in his chair and tossing a chocolate frog wrapper onto the growing pile next to him. "You try to brute-force everything. Transfiguration isn't all brute strength, Prongs. It's about precision."

"Thank you, Professor Black," James said with a roll of his eyes, though his lips quirked in a faint smile. He glanced over at Remus, who was scribbling notes with alarming efficiency. "Moony, tell me you're struggling with something. Anything. Make me feel better."

Remus didn't even look up. "Sorry, mate. Ask me again after I've memorised every goblin rebellion since 1340."

Sirius snorted. "I told you, you don't need to bother with History. If I can recite the lineage of every goblin king for five centuries, you're covered."

"You know," James said, propping his chin on his hand, "it's deeply unfair that you grew up knowing half this stuff. While the rest of us were playing Exploding Snap, you were probably reciting Gringotts policies at dinner."

"Exploding Snap?" Sirius said with mock offense. "We didn't even get Snap. It was Etiquette for Young Witches and Wizards or nothing. I could've named every goblin treaty before I could tie my bloody shoelaces."

James laughed, but it was brief, fading quickly as his gaze flicked across the room. His quill paused mid-tap.

At a table near the centre of the library, Anastasia Gaunt was seated with Lucius Malfoy, her quill moving steadily as she annotated her Potions notes with meticulous care. Her expression was calm, her posture flawless, and she exuded the kind of poise that James had come to associate with her.

They hadn't spoken since Slughorn's dinner weeks ago. He had successfully kept his distance since then, immersing himself in studying and Quidditch practice. But despite his best efforts, his gaze kept finding her across classrooms, corridors, and now, the library.

James swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, his eyes returning to his textbook.

Lucius, however, wasn't oblivious.

"You're going to tell me what this is about," Lucius said quietly, glancing at Anastasia over the top of his own book. His voice was low enough that it didn't carry beyond their table, but there was an edge of curiosity beneath the coolness.

Anastasia didn't pause, her quill gliding smoothly across the parchment. "And whatever are you referring to?"

Lucius closed his book with a soft thud, leaning slightly closer. "Don't play dumb. Potter's been staring at you all year, and it's getting tedious to watch."

She scoffed faintly, her eyes still on her notes. "Maybe he's staring at you, Lucius. You do have that golden hair he seems to love."

Lucius smirked, but his tone remained measured. "Don't deflect, Anastasia. It's unbecoming. If this is some sort of game—"