The Witch with the Humped Back
James went right to bed when they got up to the dormitories. He pulled the covers up over his head, never even bothering to put on his pyjamas and covered his ears with a pillow, not wanting to hear the other Gryffindors in the common room below partying in celebration of the new quidditch team. He hugged his knees to himself, feeling rather miserable.
"Dunno what you're so torn up over," Sirius commented later that night, when he, Remus, and Peter came up to the dorms. He'd pulled the blanket down off James to find him blearily staring straight ahead, his eyes red 'round the corners like he'd been crying. "You made the team!"
"Yeah. As a Chaser," James said thickly.
Sirius rolled his eyes, "But James. You made the team, I didn't even make the team at all, how do you think I feel?"
James didn't answer.
Sirius sighed; obviously there was no talking to him, and he gave it up as a bad job and got ready for bed, leaving James to wallow in his own unwarranted self pity.
James couldn't sleep, though. He stared bleary-eyed at his glasses on the nightstand and the reflection of the moonlight on his cup of water until he could hear the snores of the other three. He sat up then, and opened the drawer of his night stand to find the snitch that Sirius had stolen from the locker rooms the term before. He remembered the night he'd brought it back, how he'd jumped all around their dormitory only to have Peter catch the bloody snitch first. It had been a sign, he thought, even then he hadn't been meant to be a Seeker.
Angrily, he threw the snitch back into the drawer, slamming it shut so hard that one of the little gold wings got caught sticking out. He grabbed his invisibility cloak and snuck out of the dorm. He made his way through the dark corridors of Hogwarts, up to the owlery, where he found Bubo and scrawled out a parchment to Charlus. Better to get it off his chest now, he reckoned, and tell Charlus he'd failed at their dream of him becoming Seeker for the quidditch team. He scribbled out the note, miserable, and finally tied it to Bubo's leg. "There. Go be the bearer of bad news, then, why don't you."
Bubo flew off and James watched until the owl was nothing but a speck over the trees.
The corridors were dark and gloomy, like James was feeling, and he slouched along them, only half listening for Filch or Mrs. Norris. He wasn't far from the portrait hole when he heard a funny noise and ducked into a corner behind a large statue of a witch with a hump on her back. He stood quietly there, his hands on the statue's back, listening carefully.
The sound had been crying. Somebody was crying. Quite heavily, too, the sort of crying that turns your stomach inside out practically, and hurts in your throat. James hesitated, wondering if he ought to check on the person and see if they were alright. He was just about to when he heard a doorway squeak from the other end of the corridor and the sound of Filch's shuffling footsteps echoed through the dark.
James pressed himself even harder against the wall as the caretaker walked by, quickening when he heard the sound of the crying, too.
"What's the meaning of this?" James heard Filch say, agitated, "Students out of bed!"
"I am not a student," came the strong voice of Chriselda Blythe, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "I am a professor."
"Well he's a student," Filch replied.
James craned his neck, hoping to see who Filch was talking about, but he couldn't see anything except the faint glow of Filch's torch on the ceiling and the long shadow of Mrs. Norris's tail on the wall as she swished it in glee at having found a delinquent student.
"Yes he is, but he is with me, and I've given him permission to be out of bed, so he is not out of bounds, Mr. Filch," Professor Blythe said, her voice stern, "You can move along now."
Filch was quiet a moment. Then he asked, "What's the matter with him, what's he blubbering for?" his voice was about as caring as a rock might have been. He was simply nosing about, not really asking out of empathy.
Chriselda Blythe replied, "That, sir, is not any of your concern. You need to move along and take care of some of the dust and cobwebs growing about the place before we end up with an infestation of aracumantulas." The clipped tone of her voice reminded James of McGonagall in a way, as though she were trying to have the same authority as McGonagall might've done.
Filch clearly was having none of it. "Get to bed, you," he growled, and there was a shuffling and footsteps leading off toward the Fat Lady. "No students out of bed after dark," growled Filch.
"You're a heartless man, Filch," hissed Professor Blythe, "Couldn't you see he was upset?"
"I'll give him a reason to be upset - detention for a week if I report him to Dumbledore," he grouched, "And it's too bad they've taken the whips and chains from my office, I'd use them, too."
Chriselda Blythe replied, "I suppose some things never change, Mr. Filch. Your heartlessness is certainly one of them. You love nothing but that mangy old cat and even she isn't loved very well. Look at the state of her! She needs a bath."
"Don't you be talking about my cat," hissed Filch, "She's mine, I'll keep her as I please. Come along, Mrs. Norris," he added in a voice much more gentle than he'd been using speaking to Professor Blythe. He shuffled off down the hallway, the flickering of his torch fading until the only light in the corridor was Professor Blythe's wand. She sighed and James heard her mutter something before she turned down a different corridor and her footsteps faded off into the darkness, too.
He waited several moments to be sure the coast was clear, then he unwedged himself from behind the statue and scurried down the hall, wondering what he'd just overheard. Who had Professor Blythe been talking about? Who had been crying, and why? James reckoned it was one of the first year boys who was a bit homesick - they were a weepy bunch, those first years. He climbed through the portrait hole, but there wasn't anybody up in the common room, though there was a half finished cup of tea by the fire.
James climbed the stairs to the dormitory and finally changed into his pyjamas, crawling into bed and pulling the blanket up to his chin. He put his wand and his glasses on the nightstand and closed his eyes. Perhaps, he realized as he fell asleep, the crying person had been Saltzmann, or one of the others who hadn't made the Gryffindor quidditch team. He glanced over at Sirius, asleep in the next bed.
Next morning at breakfast, Bubo returned and landed on James's shoulder with a hoot as the other students owls flurried in through the window in a blur of feathers and letters. Sirius looked up as James untied the note from the owl's ankle and gave him a bit of bacon before he flew off to the owlery.
James recognized Charlus's handwriting on the envelope and sighed, "It's from my dad," he said. "Probably writing me about me not being a seeker."
"How would he know already?" asked Peter.
"I got up and wrote him during the night," James said. "I figured it was best to get the disappointment out of the way first thing in the morning, rather than putting it off."
"Oi, you want to talk about being a disappointment to your family, you can hold off feeling sorry for yourself, mate," Sirius said, "Your dad isn't going to be upset you aren't seeker, he's going to be spiffing you're on the team at all. Stop being so hard on yourself, mate. Up there in the dorm crying half the evening! You should've been in the common room drinking butterbeers and celebrating like the rest of us were."
James opened the letter, not feeling much like arguing with Sirius. He just didn't understand how important this was to him and to Charlus. He pulled the folded bit of parchment out of the envelope and took a deep breath as he unfolded it and his eyes roved over the page of Charlus's cramped handwriting.
James! A Chaser! I'm so bloody proud of you, my son. I know you wanted to be Seeker, but honestly being a Chaser is where all the action is at anyway, isn't it? Sure Seekers get a lot of glory and attention, but honestly the Seekers are just spectators on a broom 'til its time to catch the Snitch, aren't they? The winning is really up to the Chasers - they're the ones on the pitch working for it, shooting goals and dodging bludgers! You'll be an excellent Chaser, son, with the speed you can pull on a broom. Your mum is proud too, of course. We'll have to plan a trip to Hogwarts to visit for one of the games, I am sure Dumbledore won't mind. I reckon it would be lovely to stop by Hogsmeade as well. Keep us updated on all the practices and goings on with the International Quidditch Tourney we've heard talk of! Those students from Ilvermorney are trying to get a pro-league started and so they take Quidditch quite seriously, I hear, so be sure to practice hard! Lots of love, Dad.
"Well? Is he right disappointed with you? Disowning you? Shipping you off on the next train to the Island of Disappointing Childrens?" Sirius chided as James lowered the letter, beaming.
James folded the letter up and tucked it safely into the pockets of his robes. "You know, I've been thinking," he said boldly, "Perhaps I'm better off as a chaser anyway. Chasers get all the action, you know. They're the ones working for the win, right?" He grabbed the serving bowl of eggs and started spooning them off onto his platter. "I mean, Seekers are just spectators on a broom 'til it's time to catch the snitch, aren't they?"
Sirius smirked. "Proud of you, isn't he?"
James nodded.
Sirius said, "You have good parents, of course he is."
"Your parents should be proud, too," James replied, "It's them that's messed up, not you."
Sirius shrugged, not wanting to feel the emotion that the words stirred up.
They decided after breakfast to spend the late morning investigating the Trophy Room passageway, and snuck off from the Great Hall with an air of adventure about them. They managed to avoid all the pits this time - though James was curious about what would happen should he jump in one of the others.
"Those could be real pits," Peter fretted, "Just because we got lucky once doesn't mean we'll continue to! They could go anywhere!"
"Blimey, that's exactly what I'm tempted by -" James explained, inching nearer the edge.
Sirius snickered, "Careful you don't go down there, you prat, you might end up Giant Squid food if you land in the lake!"
"Yeah, c'mon, James," Remus said, "You dunno where it goes. There's plenty of interesting things here in the tunnel to have a look at. We'll explore all that another day." It had been with Remus's agreement that James walked away from the edge of the pit and continued on through the passageway.
They found the little alcove with the pillows and rug and James was really excited about imagining the previous explorers that had found the tunnel. "This is brilliant," he exclaimed, throwing himself down amongst the pillows eagerly. "These people are my heroes."
"It is pretty neat," agreed Peter, having a look around.
Remus waved his wandlight over the stuff up on the walls, reading little bits of notes and faded drawings that had been magicked to hang up on the stone. There were Christmas cards and birthday cards and notes that had been passed about during classes and Quidditch plays on big parchments with moving sketches of the players zipping about the little pitch they'd drawn... And then Remus's eyes widened. "Hey, look at this, you lot."
The other three boys crowded around Remus quickly.
It was a list - a rather long list - with a heading that read Passageways.
"Merlin's BEARD!" shouted Sirius, snapping it off the wall with excitement, "Do you know what this is!?"
"THE KEY TO OUR BRILLIANCE!" shouted James, grabbing it from Sirius, his eyes sparkling manically as he read it over, "Look at this! Just LOOK at it! Blimey!"
Remus took it back, "They must've spent a good deal of time investigating the castle to find this many passageways - and I don't think I've seen anything about any of these in Hogwarts: A History, either --"
Peter took it next, "Wow. Look at that! There's so many!" He hesitated, lowering the parchment. "Do you suppose they've all got dangerous pits like this one's got?"
Sirius took it from Peter, "Who gives a damn? We've figured out how to navigate those. I wonder where they all GO?" His eyes flicked down the list, "This one says Honeydukes. Do you suppose it goes all the way to Hogsmeade?"
James took it, "Honeydukes!? Blimey, what I wouldn't do to go out there! They have the most delicious chocolate in all the wizarding world..." he looked downright dreamy. "My Dad brought me there once, when we stayed in Hogsmeade on vacation. They have fire sugar, too. You ever had fire sugar?"
"Never," replied Sirius, taking the list back again, "What's it like?"
"You ever seen muggle cotton candy?"
"Yeah," Sirius replied.
"Like that. Except it's red and very hot and when you eat it, you open your mouth and you spit out fire, like a dragon - it's brilliant!"
"It sounds terrifying," Peter eeked.
James was leaning 'round Sirius and looking at the list. He pointed, "Hey, I know that statue. I hid behind that statue just last night, but I didn't see any passageways there."
Remus took the map from Sirius and glanced over it, following where James was pointing at the line that read, Statue of the Witch with the Humped Back. "Perhaps there's a knob or a lever," he suggested, "That's how the Whomping Willow works, anyway."
All three of the others looked at Remus.
"That's how I get out to the Shrieking Shack," he explained, "When I - you know - go wolf."
"The Whomping Willow's not on the list as a passage," James said, looking it over quickly.
"Well it wouldn't be, would it? They've just put it in last year because of me, didn't they?" Remus pointed out. He handed Peter the list back as he wiggled his fingers, asking for it. "So the people who wrote this list are probably long graduated by now."
"Yeah," James agreed. His eyes glowed. "Just means there may be even more even besides these."
Sirius grinned, "Well, these are a good start. We can add them to our map, once we've explored them."
"Looks like our weekends just filled up for the foreseeable future, 'ey?" Remus grinned. Only Peter seemed less than thrilled - worried about what might be waiting for them in the passageways...