I WAS GOING to good old fashion strangle that boy. Muggle style.
"Sirius, I told you to let me do the talking!"
"Don't worry Lilykins, I'll handle this."
I groaned in frustration — Mostly directed towards Sirius' nonchalance at this incredibly serious situation which was entirely his fault — as I struggled against the ropes that bound me. With Marlene on my left, Sirius on my right, and my back pressed firmly against Professor McGonagall's office wall, I didn't have any room to wriggle free and grab a hold of the wand in my back pocket. My feet dangled in the air just inches above the ground as I desperately tried to point my toes and reach it. Unfortunately, my three years of gymnastics as a child had failed to prepare me for magical levitation.
Beside me, Sirius closed his eyes as if he was concentrating intensely on accomplishing something. Whatever it was, his concentration only lasted for a fleeting moment, as his eyes immediately snapped back open at the sound of a familiar voice.
"Who are you?" The woman bellowed.
Professor McGonagall emerged into the light, wand raised threateningly. Her typically prim expression was no longer present, and her eyes darkened at the sight of us. Although her ageing features confirmed our suspicions that we had indeed been sent forward in time, I was suddenly more concerned by her flaring nostrils and quivering lips. I had never, in my six years of knowing her, seen Professor McGonagall less composed than she was right now — and something about that fact unsettled me greatly. Our presence seemed to be immensely startling to her, and I was certain that it was more than just the time travel factor. It was almost as if she was holding back a sob. Like she was sad? Or maybe even scared? Either way, her demeanour was incredibly disturbing.
"You're kidding, right?" James, unfortunately, spoke up. How he ever got to be her favourite, I'll never understand. He was every other Professor's worst nightmare. Only he and Sirius combined was worse. "Moony, how far into the future did you say we were? Surely she hasn't lost her memory yet."
"Not helping, James," Remus muttered back loud enough for Potter to hear across Marlene, Sirius and I who separated the two of them.
"Professor we need your—" I cut myself short in asking for her help, because I could have sworn I saw a tear roll down her cheek. "Professor McGonagall, are you okay?"
"Who are you?" She repeated coldly. She seemed to be facing some internal struggle, as if she wasn't certain whether she should hug us or curse us. Not that I could ever imagine her doing either.
"You're . . . You're not kidding?" James realised. He looked passed Sirius' big head and made brief eye contact with me as if to gain my approval that he had jumped to the correct conclusion. I gave him the slightest nod, bewildered by the situation myself, but confident that he would be the one who could fix it. I may not have understood it, but I didn't doubt that he was her favourite. And, when he chose to be, he could actually be incredibly smart and oddly compassionate. He was our best shot. "Okay, then, well, I'm James. I'm your favourite, which you seem to have forgotten on account of your old age. And this is Marlene—"
"James Potter is dead."
"He's what?" Sirius asked immediately.
I felt my heart plummet in my chest at McGonagall's declaration. We could not have possibly traveled far enough in to the future for James to be dead. He couldn't be. He simply couldn't be. Even if I had spent the last six years in attempts to oppose the fact, I could no longer deny that James Potter was good. He was a pain in my arse, yes, but there was something about James Potter that was just inherently good.
Truthfully, it's rather difficult to explain unless you meet them, but some people are just good people, and you can just feel it. There's like this little spark — or this special little thing — they have that just makes you feel safe and happy around them. Though I had long been insistent in telling him that the world didn't revolve around him, I suppose there's a chance that I was wrong. James Potter's warmth had the effect of the sun, and if he died, the world was sure to go cold and dark.
Which was unfortunate, because I really loved Summer. And I'd spent far too long in Winter.
"I will not ask again." McGonagall's uncharacteristically shaky voice interrupted my thoughts. "Who are you?"
But I paid little attention to her, or to Sirius' many protesting shouts. I was staring at James, who looked as if he had just been kissed by a dementor and had his soul drained out of him. His eyes were fixated on a random spot on the wall ahead of him and his face was expressionless, as if he had completely tuned the rest of us out. The only sign of life evident was his shallow breathing which caused the ropes to expand along with his chest.
It felt wrong to see him this way, like the world would end if James Potter didn't soon plaster on his trademark grin and run his hands through his hair.
Maybe I owed him an apology. Maybe the world did revolve around him.
"Sirius, be quiet," Remus interrupted Sirius' screams. His face was ashen, and his tone was half hearted. He clearly didn't have the energy to fight his friends warranted screams, because they seemed to be the only way we would truly get any answers. None of us were willing to believe that James was dead.
He couldn't be. He was right there.
"No, Moony, I will not be quiet. She just told us that our best friend was dead, so excuse me if I have a few questions—"
"Revelio." McGonagall attempted the spell to no avail.
"You think we're impersonating ourselves?" Sirius cried in misplaced outrage. "Why in Merlin's name would anyone want to impersonate us?"
"Sirius."
"No, Remus, I will not shut up, I have questions and I need answers—"
"No, Sirius. Look."
Remus nodded his head towards the Daily Prophet which had been strewn across McGonagall's desk. All of our eyes darted over immediately to see the article on the front page written by E.Limus, dated for September 9th 1993, with a large title that read "SIRIUS BLACK SIGHTED".
"Sighted? Am I famous or something?" Sirius' usual air of cockiness and arrogance had been dimmed by the recent revelations, and instead his voice sounded genuinely curious. His words might have even been laced with guilt, at the fact that his best friend was allegedly dead whilst he was somehow famous.
Or infamous, as it so happened.
My body froze rigid in horror as my eyes became fixated on the shaggy haired man in the moving image on the page. Perhaps Sirius should have felt guilty for a different reason.
"Sirius, the picture." The whisper barely escaped my lips.
"Is that . . . " His gulp was audible from beside me. I didn't need to remove my eyes from the page to know how pale he must have become. "Is that me in Azkaban?"
"That's a mug shot," Marlene confirmed.
This was the first time she had spoken since the news of James' death had been revealed. It hadn't occurred to me, in all this chaos, just how much this recent news would have effected Marlene.
Contrary to popular belief, I never considered Sirius to be James' best friend. In my mind, it had always been Marlene. They were, as I understood it, childhood best friends, who had grown up next door to one another. And although James may have his merry band of Marauders, and Marlene may have me and Mary, there will always be an inseparable bond between the two of them akin to that of twins.
So if I — a girl who had detested James Potter for the last six years — was feeling his loss this keenly, then I could not even begin to imagine the torment that Marlene was going through right now.
She had just lost a brother.
"Sirius Black was put in Azkaban because he betrayed the Potter's. He's the reason they're dead." Professor McGonagall's voice almost broke as she spoke. She seemed to be trying to convince herself that the words she was saying were true. "So you tell me why, now, of all times, you would choose to come waltzing into my office impersonating these people?"
"I don't know what betrayal you're talking about, Professor, but it wasn't Sirius," James said suddenly with unwavering confidence. I had never heard anyone sound so sure if anything in my life.
This was the first time he had spoken since McGonagall had revealed the news of his death. From the state he was in mere minutes ago, the last thing I was expecting was the incredibly high level of assertiveness in his voice. He was all too put together for a boy who had just learned he was marked for death.
"Oh, you bloody well know the betrayal I'm talking about. There is not a wizard alive today who doesn't."
"Well, according to what you're telling me, I'm actually not alive today." James was, once again, impressively composed. "In fact, we're not really from this time at all, so we're a bit behind on the news. Would you care to fill us in? Please?"
McGonagall's gaze softened as she looked over at James. Her wand lowered a bit as she let out a defeated sigh, but it remained gripped tightly by her side.
"It's not completely improbable that the particular students you so claim to be would be caught up in a time travelling shenanigan," She conceded. "Though, I would note that you're missing one or two usual suspects."
"That's the whole reason we're here, Professor." I decided it was my turn to step in and explain what should have been said at the very beginning of this whole encounter. "You see, Peter is in the Hospital Wing, and the boys thought it would be a smart idea to travel back in time to prevent him from getting hurt."
"Only, Sirius smashed my time turner and now we're stuck here," James explained.
"Despite all logic suggesting otherwise, I'm almost inclined to believe you. Though, I'm hesitant, with current circumstances pertaining as they are."
I was not quite sure what current circumstances she was alluding to. Like James said, we were a little behind on the news.
"Professor, if everyone knows the story, then surely there's no harm in explaining it to us?" I reasoned. "Regardless of who we are."
"Very well."
"Uh, Professor?" James edged. "I know we're all excellent wizards and witches who probably pose some kind of a threat to you, but would it be too much to ask for you to let us out of these ropes?"
McGonagall looked at him for a moment, contemplating his request. Then, with a flick of her wand, she disarmed the five of us, and released us from the grips of the ropes which disappeared into thin air.
"Thank you," I said gratefully. Though it felt like a rather bizarre shift in our typical classroom power dynamic, I wanted to reassure her that we meant her no harm.
"Usual spots, boys?" James asked, taking the middle seat on the three person couch. Sirius instinctively sat to his left, and Remus to his right, though none of them looked like their usual cheery selves. "Hey, are my initials still carved under your desk from when I hid under there in second year?"
I could have sworn I saw Professor McGonagall smile.
"Yes, Mr Potter, they are indeed."
It was the first time that she had referred to any of us by our names. It was as if she was actually starting to believe that we were who we claimed to be. It wasn't much of a surprise, either, that it had been James who had finally forced her to surrender.
"Sirius escaped from Azkaban?" Marlene spoke up suddenly.
"What?" James and I chorused in unison.
"He has a whole hotline dedicated to finding him." She read from the Daily Prophet, which she had picked up from McGonagall's desk. "Not to mention the swarm of dementors that are supposedly chasing him down. What in Merlin's name did you do?"
"I'd certainly like to know," Sirius stated, turning to Professor McGonagall for answers.
"Nothing." James declared defiantly. "He did nothing. Sirius is not a traitor."
"Professor, please?" I begged. "We deserve an explanation."
She inhaled sharply as she prepared herself for what I expected to be a rather complicated and emotional story.
"When the Potter's learned that You-Know-Who was targeting them, they went into hiding."
"Voldemort was targeting my family? Why?"
"She might tell you if you let her finish, James." Marlene's words were harsh, but she looked just about ready to cry. "Go on, Professor."
"Well, as the story goes, they went into hiding under the Fidelius charm with Mr Black—" Sirius flinched slightly at his family name "—as their secret keeper."
"I have a feeling this is where the betrayal comes in," He muttered.
"Sirius was supposedly working as a spy for You-Know-Who and revealed the Potter's whereabouts to Him, knowing that he would kill them as soon as He had the chance."
McGonagall seemed to be continually avoiding definitive statements. I got the impression that she had never been fully convinced that this story was the truth.
"Sorry, McG, but you're wrong," James told her confidently. "I don't know what happened, or whose fault it is that I'm dead, but it wasn't Sirius."
"James." McGonagall softened. It was rare to hear her address any of us by our first names, but nothing about it felt wrong. "I know it may be hard for you to believe—"
"Oh there's no belief required, Professor. I know for a fact that it wasn't Sirius who betrayed me." James stated boldly. "Whoever it was, I hope they die a slow and painful death, but I can guarantee you, it was not Sirius."
Sirius looked incredulous. "You just heard firsthand from the Minerva McGonagall that I'm to blame for you death, and you're defending me?"
"I trust that she believes that to be the truth, but I know that it's not. People get things wrong sometimes." James shrugged. I could not believe how well he was taking this. He was being so mature. "And as much as I trust Minnie, there's no one in the world that I trust more than you."
"Well, isn't that kind of the whole problem?" Sirius retaliated.
I wasn't so sure why he was so insistent on incriminating himself when James didn't think that he did it. I didn't think that he did it. And, from what I could conclude, neither did Professor McGonagall.
"Except . . . you don't believe that's the truth, do you, Professor?"
"The evidence was damning, Miss Evans."
She had once again avoided giving me a definitive answer. Just as she had, once again, referred to one of us by name. Though she seemed to hesitate briefly before she said my name, as if she was going to call me something else. Maybe she was just contemplating whether or not to call me Lily.
"Evidence?" Remus chimed in. "What evidence?"
"After the Potter's were . . ." She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence — but we all knew she meant some variation of killed. "Mr Pettigrew confronted Sirius about the betrayal, and, well . . ."
"Well, what, Professor?"
"Allegedly, he blasted him to pieces. Killing twelve muggles in the process. And then he stood there and laughed as Aurors took him into custody."
She stated this all so bluntly, seeming to think it was the best way to deliver the news of another friend's death. But my mind was still reeling over the news of James' demise, and it was not yet prepared to hear about Peter's. It was most certainly not prepared to be bombarded with the knowledge that both deaths had been Sirius' doing.
Although I still considered it more of a conspiracy than hard facts.
"That's . . . pretty damning evidence," Remus admitted, looking cautiously at Sirius and James. To be fair, we were all staring at James and Sirius, waiting for them to react.
Sirius looked as lifeless as James had before, so the latter was the first to speak. "Well, what happened at his trial?"
"I'm afraid there never was a trial, Mr Potter."