The next morning, James woke up groggily and blinked in confusion when he noticed Sirius's bed was empty. A surge of worry jolted him fully awake—where had Sirius gone? Had he done something impulsive? Nervous, he quickly shook Remus awake.
"What is it, James?" Remus mumbled, his voice muffled with sleep.
"Sirius," James whispered urgently. "Sirius is gone."
Remus sat up immediately, glancing around with bleary eyes. "What? Where did he go?"
Just as they were about to rush out in search of him, the door creaked open, and Sirius strode into the room, shrugging off his coat. He looked weary but calm.
"Where were you?" James demanded, relief mixed with lingering concern.
Sirius gave him a half-smile. "I went to send a letter to Regulus," he replied, tossing his coat onto a chair. "I took your advice, Moony."
Remus, still half-asleep, muttered under his breath, "Oh, well, I'm going back to bed. Bloody hell, I'm exhausted…."
Sirius rolled his eyes, watching his friend collapse back onto his pillow. "Honestly, he's not even close to a full moon, and he's already cranky... Right, James?" He looked over, only to see James slipping back into his own bed, eyes already closed.
"Unbelievable," Sirius sighed, feeling oddly content as he watched his friends drift back to sleep.
---
**Later, in the Great Hall**
Down in the Great Hall, breakfast was in full swing. Peter was shoveling food into his mouth at lightning speed, drawing laughter from Fabian Prewett, who shook his head in disbelief. "Damn, Peter, slow down! No one's going to steal your food."
Peter mumbled a reply through his mouthful, but it was too garbled for anyone to understand. Fabian's twin, Gideon, chuckled, turning to observe the rest of the Marauders, who were eating just as enthusiastically.
The Prewett twins, heirs to the ancient and noble House of Prewett, were well-known for their striking looks—both were tall, charismatic redheads with an easy charm and mischievous grins. But even they couldn't compete with the ravenous way the Marauders were tearing through their food that morning.
The reason behind their feast was simple: they'd been so absorbed in researching the mysterious letter Sirius had received that they'd barely eaten the day before. Skipping lunch and dinner had left them ravenous, and it showed. Their usual mischief had been set aside, replaced by a frenzy of notes, books, and whispered theories late into the night.
In fact, their absence of pranks hadn't gone unnoticed by the school. Even though they'd toned down their antics somewhat in their seventh year, there was always some minor trick or laughable mishap to keep Hogwarts entertained. Yet, for half a day, not a single prank or joke had come from them—a rarity that had the whole Great Hall buzzing with curiosity.
That was definitely something.
Early that morning, Sirius had slipped out of bed and quietly made his way to the Owlery. His heart pounded as he wrote a quick letter to his younger brother, Regulus, requesting a private talk. He didn't mention the cryptic message he'd received about their mother; instead, he kept it simple, saying only that he needed to speak with him. To be cautious, he used a friend's owl, hoping it would keep his actions discreet. But as he sent off the letter, nerves gnawed at him, and he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that came with reaching out to Regulus.
*****
In Potions, the Gryffindors were seated alongside their Slytherins for a double period. As usual, James had barely taken his seat before his attention veered across the room to Lily Evans. He was openly staring, a dreamy smile on his face, trying to catch her eye and flashing her his most charming grin. While Lily pointedly ignored him, James persisted, sending small waves and raising his eyebrows at her in an attempt to coax even the slightest acknowledgment.
Meanwhile, Remus was preparing ingredients with Peter by his side, finding himself quietly entertained by James's antics while carefully focusing on his own potion. Across from them, Sirius was paired with James and had already resigned himself to being both a potions partner and an unofficial wingman.
Sirius sighed, measuring ingredients as he split his attention between helping James with Lily and actually working on their potion. After a few minutes of struggling with both tasks, he gave up and shot James an exasperated look.
"Seriously, James, I love you, brother, and I totally support you. But if you don't get your butt over here and help me with this potion instead of drooling over Evans, I swear I'll kick you clear to the bloody moon."
"One second, Sirius!" James called back, undeterred. "Lily, love!"
Lily's shoulders tensed, and she rolled her eyes before looking up. "What is it now, James?"
He flashed her a hopeful smile. "Will you go out with me?"
She sighed. "For the millionth time, no, James. And why don't you try concentrating on your potion before you blow up half the room?"
James turned back to Sirius, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did you hear that, Padfoot? She called me 'James' instead of 'arrogant toerag'! And she cares enough to remind me to focus on my potion!"
But as he shook Sirius in excitement, disaster struck. Distracted by James's enthusiasm, Sirius lost count of his stirs and accidentally added too much powdered root just as James's jostling caused him to tip in an entire vial of dragon bile. The mixture began to bubble violently, emitting a thick purple smoke. Before either of them could react, the cauldron exploded with a loud bang, showering the entire front row in sticky, foul-smelling goo.
Sirius, now dripping with the remnants of their botched potion, glared at James. His face was a comical mix of fury and disbelief as he wiped the goo from his face.
"Well, Prongs," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm, "I hope she enjoyed the little display. Because I'm about to make sure you feel this mishap for the rest of the day."
James looked sheepishly between Sirius and Lily, who was stifling laughter at their potion catastrophe.
The explosion had barely settled before Professor Slughorn bustled over, his expression one of mild irritation mixed with curiosity. As the head of Slytherin House, Professor Slughorn was an intriguing figure—wily, perceptive, and, in his own way, rather lazy. He was a man of remarkable intelligence, though he used it mostly for self-preservation and advancing his network of influential connections. Slughorn had a habit of "collecting" promising students, much as one might collect prized artifacts, cultivating relationships with those he believed held potential for greatness, regardless of house or blood status.
With his round face, a slight belly, and sharp, gleaming eyes that missed nothing, he was a genial figure on the surface, but his slyness was unmistakable.
"What's happening here?" he asked, taking in the cauldron disaster and the dripping remnants of the potion scattered across the workbench and floor. "Sirius, off you go to see Madam Pomfrey for any injuries."
Sirius, still dripping with potion residue, shot James a final glare before grudgingly making his way out of the classroom.
Professor Slughorn turned to the others, raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Lupin, would you care to explain what exactly happened here?"
Remus opened his mouth, a bit flustered. "Well, Professor—"
But before he could get a word in, Severus Snape interjected, his voice low and sharp. "I would be more than happy to tell you what happened, Professor," he drawled, a hint of satisfaction in his tone.
Severus Snape was, in many ways, an outsider in Slytherin House. He was a half-blood, and his last name carried none of the ancient prestige many of his fellow Slytherins flaunted. It was his mother, a member of the pureblood Prince family and a gifted potions expert, who had earned him his place in the house known for its blood pride and tradition. But that place came at a cost, and Snape's days in Slytherin were far from easy.
Tall and thin, Snape had a somewhat gaunt, almost skeletal appearance, his pallor and perpetual scowl making him seem ghostly. His skin, a chalky white, hinted at his habit of lurking in the shadowy dungeons, where sunlight was scarce. His long, greasy black hair fell to his shoulders, framing his sallow, drawn face, which featured a slightly crooked, hooked nose. His clothes hung loosely on his slight frame, emphasizing his undernourished look years of abuse from his father, and his eyes—dark and intense—held a brooding quality, always seeming to burn with a hidden resentment. His features had a bit of an aristocratic look which was from his mother's side and had a good potential for a quite handsome face.
Despite his outward coldness, Snape had once been Lily Evans's best friend. Before Hogwarts and the divisions of house loyalty had come between them, they'd shared a deep bond. But blood politics, his own associations with Slytherin's more extreme members, and a long series of James Potter's taunts and pranks had turned that friendship bitter. The final fracture had come after he'd called Lily a "Mudblood," a hurtful, deeply prejudiced term for Muggle-borns, which she hadn't forgiven.
Slughorn nodded, gesturing for Snape to continue. Snape's voice took on a sarcastic edge as he said, "Potter was, of course, too busy showing off to Miss Evans over there to care about his potion or his partner, and as a result… well, we all saw what happened."
Professor Slughorn sighed, giving James a pointed look. "Mr. Potter, might I suggest that you focus a bit more on your studies and a bit less on distracting your classmates?" he said, his voice a mix of amusement and reproach.
James gave a sheepish grin, his gaze flicking briefly toward Lily, who rolled her eyes but fought a smile.
Professor Slughorn sighed, clearly more amused than truly angry, though he wasn't about to let the incident pass without consequence. He folded his arms and gave James a mildly exasperated look.
"Mr. Potter," he said, voice heavy with feigned disappointment, "since your attention seems better suited to entertaining Miss Evans than brewing potions, I think you've earned yourself an evening of quiet reflection. Detention, tonight, Potter."
James winced but quickly tried to play it off, glancing over at Lily with a smile that, if anything, only made him seem more shameless. "I'll think of it as time to work on my penmanship, Professor," he replied with a grin. Lily rolled her eyes, though a faint smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.