The Marauders: Year Four

What Else Happened

What Else Happened

For the first time ever, James was actually dreading the ride on the Hogwarts Express. Lily was going to be there and he was really nervous about how she'd treat him after their fight after the cinema. He was embarrassed, too, because he'd been stupid and arrogant enough to believe that Evans would fall hopelessly in love with him after just one date and he'd done everything so horribly wrong that there was no way she'd even say hi to him, he was sure of it. Charlus patted his shoulder, "Chin up, son, it's all going to be alright. Everyone goes through heartbreaks when they're your age. You'll be seeing another fine witch by Valentine's." He smiled reassuringly.

"Yeah. Thanks, Dad," James murmured and he waved with one open palm and shouldered the bag he'd taken home for the holiday, headed off to Platform 9¾, not feeling any better than he had when they'd first arrived. He could feel Charlus's eyes on him, watching 'til he was certain James was safe through the barrier.

The steam of the Express poured over the platform and James held onto the strap of his bag, eyes cast downward, wanting to just get to the compartment on the train, but seeing as there'd been a good deal of rumors and drama surrounding him before the end of term, everyone seemed to want to stop him and ask him how he was or else to exclaim over the fact that he was alive. "Look at you! Living and breathing and everything!" said an over excited Harry Warbeck, "Incredible!"

"Yeah, I'm a real miracle," James said dryly, and he hurried about the train as fast as his feet could carry him.

Peter was already in the compartment. James walked in and kicked the door shut, throwing himself down on the bench with a heavy sigh. "Oh bloody hell am I glad that little holiday was over... absolutely ridiculous turn of events... I haven't had such a horrible holiday in all my -- Blimey, Pete, what's the matter?" James had suddenly realized that Peter was crying into his robes - not a single chocolate frog wrapper in site, his fat little face red and splotchy.

"M - My - my sister's... she's... we dunno what happened..." he choked the words desperately. "She's gone - gone mad. She wasn't - wasn't talking for the longest - then - then she suddenly - just a couple nights ago -- she started talking a little, babbling mad things, and then she - she was - was - she stopped --" Peter looked up at James with big wet sad eyes. "Dad brought her to St. Mungo's and they've - they've diagnosed her and she's staying at the Janus Thickey Ward for incurable magical damage... Her mind's gone, they say she'll never get well and --"

James could barely breathe, he felt like his whole chest had been compressed tight. Carefully, he got up and moved to the bench beside Peter, putting his arm over his shoulders, "Mate... I'm sorry..." he said lowly. "I dunno what else to say..."

Peter covered his eyes with his squashy little hands and tears leaked from between his fingers, his shoulders shaking. "First mum... and the dreams... and now this..." He choked on his sobs. "I had a horrible dream the night it happened, too, James, like my mind knew what was happening and I was sort of feeling it with her... I've been having awful dreams ever since mum died but they've been worse - so much worse - lately. Especially over holiday."

James rubbed Peter's back. "What sort of dreams?" he asked gently.

"Of mum. In a cage. In the dark. And she's always crying and screaming," Peter shivered as though cold. "The night -- Maggie -- I dreamed mum was screaming my name, calling me. And I've dreamed loads about going and finding her in this horrible place and the Dark Lord's there." Peter's voice trembled.

"That's an awful dream," said James lowly, feeling quite horrible for Peter. He wondered why Peter had never told him and the other boys about the dreams he'd been having. He wished he'd known, he might've been a bit more gentle 'round the edges for Peter, a bit less nasty to him...