The Marauders: Year Seven Part Two

An Unorthodox Class

January proved to be a very stressful month for everyone in the Order, worrying about when the patience of the Dark Lord might wane, when Regulus Black might be summonsed to his master, and the plan would commence. Now that Peter had possession of the locket, they had set in the plan motion as far as they could do until Voldemort made the next move.

The locket was particularly angry, hissing through the night from Peter's nightstand, where he elected to keep it until the moment came that he would take it to the Dark Lord. It rattled - shaking of its own accord in the drawer. James woke up during the night one night, begging Peter to wrap the bloody thing in a pair of socks or something.

"Anything to make it shut the hell up!" James shouted, "I can't stand that thing and it's infernal racket for even another moment!"

"Don't shout at me!" Peter replied, "It isn't my fault it's here!"

"No it's bloody Evans's fault," grouched Sirius from his and Remus's bed.

"Will you all shut up, it's three in the morning," Remus growled from his pillow.

"Good, while you're awake you can shove over," Sirius demanded, "You're hogging most of the bed."

"You've your own bed you can go sleep in!" Remus replied, "I reckon I can take up as much as this one as I'd like - seeing as it's mine."

The arguing in the dormitory was always like this, too, now that the locket had taken up residence there. So much so that often times Sirius ended up down on the couch in the common room just to get away from the others, and he'd often find James or Peter collapsed in the chair opposite him when he woke up in the early morning hours of the day.

"I wish he'd hurry up," Lily said impatiently one evening when James told her about the fighting in the dormitory, "I don't like you lot having to go through all that. It isn't right when you four are fighting. It's as though the balance of the whole world is thrown off."

"I know," James replied, "But what else are we going to do? It has to stay in Peter's possession until it passes off to Voldemort or we risk transferring the curse to somebody else, or else not freeing Peter from the Vow."

Lily sighed and laid her head on his chest - they were laying together on the couch in the Trophy Room Passageway - "I don't like that you're getting that curse anyway. I mean, I understand that it's got to be someone, I s'pose, but... I hate that it's you. You've been through so much already..."

James shrugged. "It's better than it being Peter."

Lily felt terrible that she couldn't answer agreement. Her heart ached at the thought that given a choice between James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, she would choose for Peter to suffer before James... It made her sick to think of either of them suffering, but the thought of James's pain was more terrible to her than anyone else's on the earth... including her own.

The first day that classes resumed was 9 January, and everyone piled into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom a bit early to welcome back Professor Urquart. The classroom had not been modified back to Urquart's tastes, rather it remained in Garm and Frek's set up, since Frek would be returning at some point to be their DADA professor for the rest of the term. Urquart seemed somehow out of place before them behind the great big desk that Garm Tyr had placed on the plinth before the student seats, and the chalkboard was empty, Frek not there to be standing by it with all of his nervous energy.

James felt profoundly sad as he settled into his seat. It was striking him as he looked at Urquart behind the desk that Garm Tyr was truly gone, and, for the first time since he'd met the bloke he felt as though Garm might've had quite a lot to teach. Dumbledore's revelatory speech in the Great Hall just before dismissing the school to Christmas holiday had made James realize how little he knew about most of the professors, really. Garm Tyr had given everything to saving the werewolves of Fallengunder at Dumbledore's request, he'd died after fighting for Fallengunder, newly transformed from werewolf form under the full moon, defending himself and the others. James wondered - no, James knew - that if Garm had had the ability to speak a spell in that moment, he'd be alright. After all, Garm's specialty was Defensive Dark Magic. If he'd been able to speak a spell, he'd still be alive...