Are You Now, Or Are You Never?

Location: Astronomy Tower
Date: 4th September 1975
Status: Private.


It was cold tonight, the autumnal breezes that whipped over the parapets, folding between stone and fabric to chill him were insidious, unrelenting in their approach. James shivered involuntarily as he stared out over the grounds, taking in his first sight of Hogwarts since he'd been back that hadn't been filled with people, with noise, with chatter. Not that he minded such things generally of course, in fact he thrived on contact with people. James was never one for extended periods of introspection, but sometimes, just sometimes, you needed time to think.

And Merlin, did he have a lot to think about, to mull over, to toss and turn and sort and compartmentalise in his mind. He might come across as a bit of a rogue, someone who lives in the present and doesn't care for rules, structure or organisation, but at heart James knew that wasn't true. He, like all of his friends...well, most of his friends, was a deeply intelligent bloke, and part and parcel of being that was an acceptance that certain things existed for a reason, that certain people were where they were for a reason.

Like him?

He glanced down (for what Sirius would have informed him was now the eight hundred and sixty-fifth time today) at the gleaming badge pinned to the front of his robes, just above the Gryffindor crest. He thought that its imagined weight would have lessened during the day, would have somehow become lighter, easier to handle. Instead, it had grown even bulkier and almost red-hot. It burned its way into his skin, the day having emphasised exactly what was being required of him and how heavy this duty would weigh on his mind, especially in these times.

Angrily, he exhaled. Why did Dumbledore give this to him? He was happy how he was, arsing around with his Marauders and playing the fool. He was content to cruise through every (most) lessons without a worry, he was excited about another year of chasing Evans, another year to visit his displeasure upon Snivellus.

But somehow, the thought of carrying on like he had in years gone by was slowly taking on a bitter taste in his mouth, as if he'd swallowed ash instead of pumpkin juice at dinner. In all honesty, he'd been thinking on this for a long time, since he'd received that letter, that damned letter that had somehow got inside of his head and twisted him, changed him in what he felt was an irrevocable way.

~~~

He'd woken up before everyone as per normal, Sirius' snores from the room next door sounding vaguely like a chainsaw. James grinned as he passed his door, tying the string to either side of the frame and laying his invisibility cloak over it carefully, making sure to mask the fastenings. The boy might have been his best friend, and granted, he might have gone through a rough time this summer, what with his mother kicking him out. The image of Sirius turning up soaking wet, with a suitcase in hand and a furious, albeit sad expression on his face had haunted his thoughts, making anger stir from deep within that he had to try hard to quell.

But it didn't mean he'd let the boy off easily. Not after he'd had to spend all evening having his hair regrown after Sirius had...accidentally...hexed it off, instead of turning it green.

With a smirk as his trap was complete, he turned and padded silently along the hallway towards the stairs. The early morning sunlight was streaming in through the large windows that seemed to be everywhere in the Potter family manor, giving the corridors, and indeed, every room an unearthly, almost ethereal glow. It wasn't creepy in any way though, it warmed the surroundings, infused them with a richness that he reckoned couldn't be found anywhere else, except maybe for Hogwarts. The whole house lived and breathed happiness and contentment, and James found himself missing it even as he was having the time of his life at school. He paused outside his parents' bedroom, noting the cracked-open door. They'd have gone to work already, he supposed. His father was a senior member of the MLE, and had been for most of his adult life. His mother, on the other hand, was a member of the elite, the best, an Auror. Many teasings had gone on (usually from Sirius) about father figures being subordinate to the mother in the past, most of them earning the pair of them sharp cuffs round the back of the head.

He grinned again at the memory, making his way down the stairs quietly (even though he thought that nothing would penetrate the sound of Sirius "sleeping" - he still wasn't convinced that his best friend wasn't doing it on purpose) and into the kitchen. His father's latest fascination with muggle technology had found the Potters coming into possession of what was known as a "fridge" - a metal box that connected to the wall and seemed to have a permanent cooling charm applied to it. James thought it was fantastic, it kept his morning pumpkin juice chilled at the perfect temperature, and the leftovers from dinner could be eaten later rather than simply evanesco'd into oblivion. His father had been somewhat elusive on the topic of how much it had cost them when his mother had inquired, he remembered with a chuckle as he pulled the door open, pulling out the container of juice and waving his wand almost absently to conjure a glass from the thimbles that they kept on the side. He poured himself a long measure and replaced the container inside the fridge, closing the door and trailing his fingers over the counter as he walked out onto the porch.

He squinted against the bright, warm light that immediately coated him as his feet moved onto warm wood. It was going to be a hot day, which suited him fine. He was going into London with Sirius to meet Peter and Remus later on (and most likely to 'congratulate' the latter on getting his Head Boy badge, oh how he'd take enormous pleasure in that), and after that they were going to Floo back here to test out the new boat that he and Sirius had been building all summer.

So it had a few holes in it, he was sure that it would still...

His internal thought process was interrupted as his eyes tracked to the small, dark object in the sky, drawing closer. His senses honed from years of Quidditch, he rarely missed a detail, often catching them far before others did. Later on, he would be highly thankful for this particularly useful trait as the shape came closer, closer. Eventually, he could make out that it was an owl, and he felt the same little shiver of excitement that coursed through him every year. Hogwarts letters! He outstretched his hand to catch the letters as the owl dropped them, banking off (he assumed) to deliver the rest of his load to the Abbots, who lived a few villages over.

Another year of mischief, of pranks, of fun, of sneaking around, of Quid...

Once again, he found his thoughts derailed as one of the letters landed in his palm first with a thunk, the other drifting gracefully into his right hand. Running his thumb over the first envelope, he felt the distinctive shape of a shield, the coldness of the metal transmitting through the paper as his eyes widened. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned the envelope over.

James Potter,
The Porch, Potter Family Estate
Godric's Hollow, Ceredigion.

He felt his heart skip a beat.

He felt his heart skip another beat.

Surely not...

With (although he would never admit this later to anyone except Lily) slightly trembling hands, he set Sirius' letter to one side, reaching up to pull open the wax seal of Hogwarts on the back. It came away with a snap, the envelope already bulging with documents, letters...and another envelope. He set the larger one down as he withdrew this new discovery, unconsciously biting his lip as he read the familiar, slanted script on the front.

James

Another seal broke with a quick swipe of the boy's finger, his rush now moved in a split second from hesitant to almost feverish, ripping the vessel open to get at what was inside, to dispel his growing horror which, unfortunately, was to stay with him.

A small object tumbled from the paper container, glittering in the morning sun to fall to the decking with a thud that was almost insignificant to anyone else, but sounded like an explosion to James. He bent down slowly, the letter that accompanied the object still clutched firmly between his fist as his knuckles whitened. He brought his eyes right up to it, having forgotten to put his glasses on when he showered and dressed, but eventually the perfectly engraved letters came into focus, gleaming in the light.

James Potter
Head Boy

No...this can't be happening...there must be a mistake... Vaguely, some subconscious trigger in his mind forced him to look down at the letter still clutched inside his fist, a letter that hopefully contained some vague semblance of an answer to a question that hadn't even formed yet in his mind.

James,

I trust that you have discovered the contents of this envelope, and that the shock has not put you into an early grave. Believe me, that was not my intention.

I'm certain that you have many questions, chief among them being about my choice for Head Boy. I could write volumes on my selection procedure, tomes on the reasons why and why not, but I do not wish to bore you on such a fine summer's day. Instead, I will tell you this.

Recently, a very dear friend of mine said something to me that happened to stick in my mind. He said, "There comes a point in every person's life, where you have to choose between what is right, and what is easy." Why did I choose you for Head Boy, James? The answer is simple.

When the time comes, I trust you to make the right decision.

Yours in kind regard,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Order of Merlin, First Class.

He didn't know how long he stared at the parchment for, all he knew was that his thoughts (or lack of, in this case) were interrupted by a loud crash emanating from inside of the house.

"PROOOOOONGS!!!" Came the angry shout, and in slight panic, James scooped up the Head Boy badge, along with Dumbledore's letter, and stuffed them inside his robes.

~~~

That had been the point where everything had changed, he thought to himself as he leaned on the turret, the chill of the stone underneath making him wish that he'd worn his jumper out. The days were still warm, but the weather was starting to turn, especially up here in Scotland. With one final glance out over the grounds, where the lights of Hagrid's cabin twinkled merrily by the foreboding treeline of the Forbidden Forest, he turned and made his way to the staircase.

That was enough thinking for one night.