James's Sketchbook - Chapter 3

Chapter Three – A Stab in the Dark


Severus hadn't slept well the night before, but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Insomnia was something that Severus had already accepted as part of his life. Some nights, Severus stayed in bed, listening to Mulciber snore, as he stared up into the dark depths of the canopy above his bed until some form of fitful sleep took him. Other nights, Severus found means of occupying himself with his own projects, homework having been perfunctorily done long ago.

Last night had been one such night.

When Severus arrived at breakfast, nobody asked where he had been all of last night, no one commented on the fact that he was clearly wearing the same clothes he had worn the day before, no one even said a word of greeting to him. The only indication that his Housemates gave that they had even noticed Severus's presence was Rosier moving over ever so slightly on the bench so as to give Severus barely enough room to take a seat.

As Severus began to tuck into his breakfast, he listened into the conversation going on around him, but remained silent.

"-and all I meant to say was, 'you're doing it wrong, Stebbins.' It's not my fault that, 'you're an idiot' came out," Avery was saying. "I mean it was true, and everyone else was thinking it—"

"I wasn't," interrupted Mulciber.

"Well that's only because you're as dull witted as he is," snapped Avery, glaring at his friend. "But, so, any road, Professor Bone overheard, and that's why we're down ten."

"Really, ten, just for that," said Wilkes. "It's not like you hexed anyone."

Avery shrugged. "I dunno. Bone's a touchy little twit. I bet he won't last 'til Christmas."

Wilkes and Mulciber nodded in agreement with Avery.

"But enough about that," said Avery with a dismissive wave of a fork. "What's in the Prophet, Black?"

As Regulus Black unrolled his customary newspaper, Severus realized, without much concern, that he had missed the mail. It didn't matter at all. Not once in all of his seven years at Hogwarts had he ever received a letter from home, let alone a package.

Clearing his throat with a dramatic flare that reeked of Sirius Black, Regulus Black began to read the headlines, "Family of five found murdered… Mudbloods, so good riddance… Edward Ruthwing declared missing…  Say, was he the one who tried to get a Muggle liaison office in the Ministry?"

"No, I think you've got him confused with Edward Merwhipple," said Wilkes as he sipped his tea. "I've never heard of Ruthwing."

Shrugging his shoulders, Black continued, "And, Leopold sent to Azkaban." He turned to Crouch. "Your father's doing?"

Not looking up from his plate, "Naturally." He made a grimace.

"Fortunately, I don't think I've ever heard of anyone named Leopold… at least Bella's never mentioned him—"

"Lucius hasn't either," said Avery.

As if between Avery and Black every single Death Eater was known. Severus rolled his eyes. No one but the Dark Lord knew all the Death Eaters. It was safer that way.

"It looks like your father wouldn't know a Death Eater if one danced naked in front of him," said Black with a sigh as he folded up his paper, the front-page headlines having been read.

After looking around to make sure that no one was listening to them, Crouch said, raising his goblet of pumpkin juice, "And thank Merlin for that."

Everyone in the small cluster of older Slytherin boys nodded in agreement. The Ministry's stabs in the dark were good for everyone. The Ministry and the public could feel confident that they were putting "Death Eaters" behind bars, while the true Death Eaters could carry on as they had before, cautiously and subtly. Of course it was unfortunate that innocent sympathizes were being persecuted just for their views or allegiance, but there was no doubt in anyone's mind that the Dark Lord would free those victims of Ministry's persecutions.

Of course, there were those rare occasions when a real Death Eater was arrested. But, unlike most of his comrades, Severus did not believe that these events were random tragedies. No, instead, Severus knew that those who were foolish enough to get caught served the Dark Lord best by staying out of the way.

"Oi, Snape."

Severus's head snapped up, and he forced himself to look up at Avery. "What?"

"You going to come to class or are you going to continue staring at the pumpkin juice?"

Wordlessly, Severus stood up, and picked up rucksack up off the floor. Trailing along behind Avery and Rosier, Severus made his way across the Great Hall. Severus didn't pay attention to whatever it was that Avery and Rosier were talking so animatedly about. Knowing what the two of them usually talked about, it barely seemed worth the effort. No, instead he was deep in thought.

It had been so beautiful that day.

The sunlight streamed through the brightly colored leaves, and the sky was a pure blue. In all of his eleven years, Severus had never seen the sky that crystal color, had never seen it reflected in clear, shimmering water. There was a chill in the air, but he didn't mind. He'd been cold before, and he was used to it.

He glanced over at Lily. Her cheeks had turned a bright pink, and she had wrapped her Gryffindor sweater around herself tightly, her crimson and gold scarf trailing behind in the autumn wind. She wasn't used to the cold, but she was still smiling brightly, emerald green eyes flitting around taking in everything. Seeing her so happy, Severus couldn't help but smile too.

The two of them wandered across the grounds, leaves crunching underfoot, occasionally talking, but mostly looking around at a place so different from all that they had ever known before.

By the time that the two of them sat down at the foot of a tree, the two friends had been on the grounds for some time.

Leaning against the tree, Severus took out his wand. Now seemed as good a time as ever to practice some spells. Focusing all of his attention on a fallen leaf on the ground before him, Severus cast the levitation spell. The leaf floated upward, going in the opposite direction of the falling leaves. Severus flicked his wand briskly, and the bright-yellow leaf did a black-flip mid air. Grinning, he moved the tip of his wand in a slow circle, and the leaf mimicked his movements. Severus had gotten the leaf to turn in a swift figure eight when suddenly, "Sev, what's a mudblood?"

Quickly, Severus turned to Lily, "Who called you a mudblood?" The leaf hung for a moment, suspended in mid air, before it began to slowly drift downward.

"Nobody called me a mudblood," said Lily quickly. "It was Mary."

Severus felt the anger that had welled up so suddenly begin to slip away. "Oh."

"We were going to class, and this boy… I think he was in your house, but older, a lot older than us… Mary accidently bumped into him, and he said, 'Get out of the way, mudblood.' I didn't understand what that meant, and neither did Mary, but I figured it was some sort of Wizard insult – what else could it be." Her arms wrapped around her legs, Lily sat looking up into the vividly colored canopy.  "I thought I'd ask you."

"It… it means…" Severus could feel his face growing red as he said in an undertone, "It means you've got dirty blood. It's how some people refer to muggle-borns."

Lily blinked. "But didn't you say that it didn't matter being muggle-born."

"Yeah, and that's true, but," Severus was struggling, "but to some people it does. Being muggle-born doesn't mean much, doesn't mean you're going to be less of a witch." Severus had seen how much magic was in Lily. "But some people think that having muggle blood is… it pollutes magical blood."

"It -- what?"

"People like to keep the bloodlines pure. Some wizards think that people who aren't pure-blood don't deserve to be called wizards." There were so many of them. In his family, in his House…

"But that's not… that's not right."

Severus shrugged his shoulders. "It's what people think."

Softly, "Do you think that? Do you think I'm a mudblood, Sev?"

"What? No." Severus shook his head. He wasn't like the other boys in his house, who threw mudblood and blood-traitor around. He knew Lily. She wasn't anything like a muggle. It seemed impossible to Severus that she could have been raised by muggles. She wasn't a mudblood. Not at all. "You're just Lily."

Weakly, Lily smiled. She edged closer to Severus and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad you're my friend, Sev."


***


It was as if six first years had drunk Polyjuice and decided to come to practice.  James grimaced as Davey Gudgeon failed to block the Quaffle that James had thrown at him.

The whole practice had been filled with such blunders. The Chasers seemed to have lost the ability to throw and catch overnight.  Filemina Anderson's aim was so poor that she ended up sending a Bludger right at Hestia Jones, who had forgot her glasses and was therefore useless as a Seeker. All she had done during practice had been to fly around restlessly. And if James were to be honest, he would have admitted that he was having an off day himself.

Catching the Quaffle that Gudgeon threw back, James shouted, "Guys, I think it's time to call it a night." He began to deceased.

The seven of them made their way disgruntledly to the changing rooms. Unlike usual practices, no one spoke, each player mentally going over every error they had made that evening.

When they were finally inside the changing room, James cleared his throat. "So tonight wasn't a great night. It happens, but I'm letting you know that if we play like that on Saturday, we'll lose to Hufflepuff. I'm calling an emergency practice tomorrow."

Filemona groaned and said, "Great. I've got a Transfiguration practical to prepare for."

"You'll have the other twenty-two hours to study for it," said James. Normally, James would have bantered with the fifth-year, but he was too tired. "Now go back to the Tower and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow on the Pitch."

Ignoring his teammate's grumblings, James stepped into the shower. Standing still, James let the hot water run over him, wishing that he could wash his anxiety away. He couldn't take his mind off of the Quidditch pitch. All he could do was replay the practice, imagine the coming game and the shame of losing to Hufflepuff. James was not about to loose to Hufflepuff in his seventh year.

As soon as he stepped out of the shower, the cold air hit him. Hastily, James dried himself off and wrapped his towel around his waist. He picked up his dirty Quidditch uniform from the floor, and hurried to his clean school robes. His teammates seemed to have already left, but James didn't mind walking up to the school alone in the growing dark.

There were only a few students in the corridors when James entered Hogwarts. They didn't seem to take much notice of him, only a passing glance.

James had just reached the third floor when he felt something hit him on the head. He spun around, wand ready. Another piece of chalk came flying and hit him squarely on the forehead. "Peeves!" James said, looking around for the Hogwarts poltergeist. Normally, James found Peeves amusing – he had gotten several ideas from him over the years – but right now Peeves was probably the last being he wanted to see, aside from Severus Snape.

"Potty Potter," jeered Peeves as he floated into sight, chucking another piece of chalk at the disgruntled Gryffindor.

Catching the missile mid-air, James said coldly, "I'm not in the mood."

Peeves was just about to throw another one, but James beat him to it. Annoyed by the unexpected retaliation, Peeves blew a raspberry before zooming off to harass another student.

Grumbling, James continued slowly trudging up the flight of stairs. "If only my team could throw as well as Peeves, than maybe we'd stand a chance against Hufflepuff," James muttered. "Pity poltergeist don't count as players, because I'm sure he wouldn't mind." And now I've started talking to myself. Maybe I am finally losing it. James shook his head. He had way too much to think about between Quidditch, the Marauders, and school, and that was not including the war that was being waged around him while he was still stuck at school.

Just when he was completely wrapped up in his own thoughts, paying to attention to what he was doing, he felt the stairs begin to move. "Damn it," James swore as the staircase he was on swung away from the flight of stairs that would lead him to Gryffindor tower. Knowing that there was nothing he could do once the castle had made up its mind to play with the students, James held onto the handrail and waited for the stairs to attach themselves to another landing. He knew that he'd be able to find his way back to the Gryffindor tower, even if the castle had decided to be difficult.

At least he wasn't a first year late for class.

Finally, the stairs came to a grinding halt on a landing with no stairs going up. Trying not to let his frustration get the better of him, he stepped into the corridor and looked around trying to get his bearings.

It could have been any corridor on any abandoned wing of the school. There was nothing special about it, he realized as he walked down the corridor that only revealed another corridor. For what felt like the millionth time since it had been confiscated, James wished he had the Map he and his friends had worked so hard to make.

It was so soft at first that James thought he had imagined it. He stopped, and in the stillness the song began to grow. It came in wisps at first, tiny strands of a grander something that was out of James's reach. Trying to make as little sound as possible, James began to creep along the corridor, listening as the song grew in strength.

The song had no words, and yet, James felt as though it was speaking to him, telling him something that he had forgotten long ago. It seemed to him like some sweet memory that time had faded, but he still knew was there inside him. Every note brought a new sensation; every pause nearly stopped his heart. Gentle as a caress, the song danced high and delicately, and yet its lower, deeper tones were a sweet kiss.

But something else was there, amidst all the sweetness. It cut through him, made him feel exposed and raw, but he treasured every second of this brilliant sensation.

Desperately, James paced along the corridor, drinking in the song. He wanted to be closer, wanted to see what it was that was so painfully beautiful. But try as he might, he could not find the source. The corridor played tricks on him. At one place he would be able to hear the song clearly and strongly, but move a little to the left, and it was all but a whisper.

And just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

James wanted to cry out, wanted to plead for more, but he could not bare the break the silence. As if a spell had lifted, James suddenly became aware of himself. He realized with a jolt that he had been wandering for almost an hour, completely unaware time. Without any conscious intent, James found himself at the end of the corridor he had started out at. He had come full circle.

Suddenly, James ran. The stairs must have shifted again, because he ran all the way up the stairs and soon found himself a short distance away from the portrait hole. Dazed, James climbed through the portrait hole and ignoring cries of welcome, he sprinted up to his dorm room. James tore through his book bag and finally pulled out his sketchbook. Sitting down on the end of the bed, he flipped to an empty page and began to draw.

Inspired by the song, the images came flooding to his mind quicker than he could draw them. Soon he had filled several pages with half-finished sketches, and yet still he pressed on. There was something… something he couldn't quite make out yet that he had to draw. Every time he tried to touch the thing, it dodged away from him, making ripples in his mind. It frustrated him. He knew it was there, and yet he couldn't see it.

Exhausted and weary, James looked at what he had drawn and realized with a pang of despair that there was no way he'd ever be able to capture the beauty of the song.



***


When Lily climbed through the portrait hole, the common room was a buzz. She looked out over the sea of students, searching for her friends. It didn't take too long to find Mary curled up on a sofa near the window. Getting to her friend was the tricky part. The Gryffindor common room was nothing short of organized chaos. Weaving her way through chairs and tables, she nearly stepped on a game of exploding snap, accidentally knocked a first year off an armrest, and bumped into at least half of Gryffindor House.  

"How can you get any work done with all this?" asked Lily, as she sat down on the sofa next to Mary.

"I've got little brothers," said Mary. She turned the page of text she was reading for runes. "I wouldn't be able to concentrate if it was quiet. Don't know how you can stand the library." She looked up from her book to grin at Lily. "Hey, you wanna see something funny?"

"What?" asked Lily looking at Mary's book, wondering if there was something there that Mary thought would amuse her.

Pointing to the corner of the common room, "Look over there."

Following Mary's gaze, Lily quickly saw what was so amusing. "That's cute," said Lily, smiling at the sight of Marlene and Peter working side by side at a table. Even from this distance, Lily could tell that Peter was blushing slightly, and Marlene wasn't exactly being subtle about every so often glancing away from her work to look at Peter.

"Marlene and Peter," giggled Mary. "Think about it for a moment."

Lily instantly understood what was making Mary laugh. "He's so short, and she's so tall." Lily couldn't help but grin at the mental image she had of the two of them walking side-by-side holding hands. "Well, Peter's a nice boy." She didn't know him very well, but he was always nice to her. Lily was convinced that if it wasn't for Potter and Black, Peter would probably be perfectly decent. "Maybe Marlene will be good for him."

Shrugging, Mary said, "If they get married—"

"Don't start!" said Lily as she started to giggle again.

Marlene must have sensed that she was being stared at, because she looked up from her work straight at Lily and Mary. Seeing her two friends laughing, she stuck her tongue out at them. Lily gave Marlene the thumbs up, and Mary nodded. With the blessing of her friends, Marlene went back to her work with perhaps the silliest face Lily had ever seen.

"I hope I never look that sappy," said Mary. "If I ever look like that, please slap me."

Even though Lily nodded in agreement with her friend, she couldn't help but feel a longing to know what it was like to be that happy.