The next morning, James awoke feeling just as refreshed as he usually did - though, as he wasn't a morning person, this wasn't saying much. Yesterday's squabble with the Head Girl was not forgotten, but he had put it behind him. His temper may have been quick to flare, but it faded just as quickly; that and he had gotten into so many fights with Lily Evans over the years that by now he was somewhat used to it. So, as he shuffled about the dormitory room, dressing himself for the day, it was with his usual lack of conscious effort. Once his glasses were on and his clothes were all properly buttoned, he ran a hand through his hair and, with a yawn, made his way downstairs to the Great Hall. Peter, who was an early riser, was already seated at the Gryffindor table. James joined him, and within ten minutes Remus and Sirius had arrived as well. The boys' conversation was somewhat stilted until they all had enough food in their systems to fuel their usual lively banter.
Breakfast was interrupted, as was commonplace at the magical academy, by a flurry of owls bringing students and teachers copies of The Daily Prophet, letters from home, or else magical magazine subscriptions. Being an only child, James Potter was accustomed to receiving a letter from his parents several times per term. Good manners and a fond upbringing had taught him to do the same. Typically, his parents' letters brought reports of their social interactions or subtle reprimands concerning his at-school behavior. However, on this mild September morning, the letter he received held none of that. His improvised egg-and-toast-and-kipper sandwich was interrupted by a heavy parchment envelope dropping directly into his tea. He looked up, catching sight of his parents' barn owl, Hawthorne, soaring out of the large windows and off toward the Owlrey.
"Damn bird," he grumbled, forsaking his breakfast to pick the letter out of his drink, drying it off as best he could with a napkin and hoping the ink had not run. He broke the seal and folded the parchment open, tapping his wand on the slightly smeared ink as he read. It was not an especially long letter, but he read eagerly.
Dear Jane;
How has the first week of classes gone, my dear? We've missed you at home, and Sirius too! Things have gotten back to their usual quietness, though neither your father nor myself could say we prefer it thus.
"What's the news from Mum and Da?" interrupted Sirius, peering over James' shoulder interestedly. "HA! She called you 'Jane!' What did you do that she forgot she's got a boy, and not a girl? It's all your mooning over Evans over there-" he said, jerking his chin toward the sleepy-eyed redhead who sat a few meters away, sipping from a steaming mug of tea. James' gaze flicked toward Lily Evans and then back to the paper with the scarce-contained pleasure. Though it was habitual by now, James could not help but get excited at small bits of sweetness, such as letters from home. He had received dozens throughout his years at school, and yet getting mail never ceased to excite him.
I thought I would drop Betsy Evans a letter to thank her for allowing us to invade her time with her daughter on our last visit to Diagon Alley. Do you happen to know her address? Though I am sure our owl would be more than capable of finding the addressee, I still sometimes fear relying too much on poor Hawthorne, due to his age. But, again, as for Mrs. Evans: I should very much like to see her again sometime. I was so very taken with her and her daughter! Both were exceptionally well-mannered, especially for Muggles. And her daughter had such lovely features! I might add, dearest son of mine, that if my motherly intuition serves me right, the redness of your ears and slight stammer indicates that you feel quite the same. It's no wonder you have a fancy for the girl.
Sirius nudged James. "See?" he asked, a grin plastered across his handsome face. "If there's one thing you fail at, Prongs, it's subtlety."
"Stuff it," James replied, good-naturedly, taking the opportunity to look down the table toward the girl in question. His ears were indeed red at his mother's mention of Lily's beauty, though he felt an accompanying sense of pride at her words. His emotional buoyancy was quickly dashed, however, as he was caught staring. Lily's eyes widened, apparently startled, but then she turned back to her breakfast. James fought to suppress a sigh. Girls happened to be some of the most complex and difficult of all the known creatures of both Muggle and magical worlds. They had been getting along so well...
"You're doing it again," Sirius said, interrupting James' brief reverie. "Read your letter, not your redhead."
On a more somber note: your father and I had the unhappy duty of attending a funeral this past week. Of course, you remember my dear friend Maybelle Whitley? She passed, I am sad to mention. She used to love to dandle you on her knees when you were small! At any rate, she had been doing poorly after a bout of dragon pox and simply wasn't the same when she returned from St. Mungo's. I went to visit her several times; we were at Hogwarts together, though not in the same house. It was a quiet funeral, and as nice as one can be, I suppose. But, on our way out of the parlour, your father happened to run across an old colleague of his, and so this weekend, we shall be entertaining. It won't be quite as exciting as when you and the boys are home, but we shall surely try! We might be old, but we've still got a bit of spirit left.
This paragraph made James slightly uncomfortable. Though the fact that his parents were old was not precisely a secret, he still felt a certain uneasiness about death. It was especially sad how his parents were being winnowed out as the last of their contemporaries. Thankfully, his mother moved on to lighter fare as her letter began to wrap up.
At any rate, dear one, I hope this letter finds you well, and that your Head Boy duties and Quidditch captaincy are not causing you undue stress. Your father and I love you and are very proud of you- especially since this is the first time in your years at Hogwarts we have not yet received a letter home concerning some mischief you and your friends have gotten up to! We love you and miss you.
Love forever,
-Mum
James smiled as he read the last bit of her letter, content at the affirmation offered by his parents. Sirius, upon finding that this letter held nothing of particular interest, had long since gone back to his toast, and James was free to mull over its contents at his leisure. There was that odd little thing, right at the beginning, when his mother had accidentally addressed her own son as "Jane." It was very strange indeed, though after thinking about it, the tousle-haired boy remembered that his mother's sister, who had died when he himself was only a small boy, had been called "Jane." His mother must have had written the incorrect name out of habit. He turned his attention back to his breakfast, which was now quite cold but still edible, and made short work of it, ignoring Sirius' falsetto impersonation of his mother's voice as he insistently called James 'Jane' throughout the rest of breakfast. Before they knew it, the bell was ringing for their first class, and all four lads headed off to Transfiguration.
Though Lily did not make a habit of chatting with him before or during class, James noticed that his favorite redhead was trying particularly hard to pretend he was not there this morning. He sighed inwardly, realizing that she must still be miffed about their argument from yesterday and that he would probably have to be the one to bridge the gap this time. He and his mates had not discussed the incident further, but after Peter's comment yesterday, the thought had occurred to James that he may have been on a bit hard on Lily when she was, possibly, only trying to commiserate with him about his unfair treatment in the Potions classroom. If this was the case, the ball was in his proverbial court.
Fortunately, they both had a free period after Transfiguration, which meant he had an opportunity to patch things up with her. Last night, before going to bed, James had spent the better part of half an hour drawing up a tentative patrols schedule. It was fairly simple to do once he got started. There were twenty-four Prefects, plus himself and Lily, which made thirteen pairs. Every evening had two patrol shifts: from seven to nine and from nine to eleven. He had been a bit stumped once he realized that there were fourteen patrols to be done each week and only thirteen pairs of Prefects to do them, but he had surmised that either Filch or the professors must take turns filling in the empty spot.
As he stepped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, on his way back from Transfiguration, he was very glad that he'd taken the time to work out a schedule last night, as it gave him a sort of olive branch to wave in Lily's direction. He straightened and scanned the common room until his eyes caught the familiar gleam of red hair across the room. She was curled up in one of the window seats of the tower room, a place that James surmised must be her favorite spot, since she sat there so often. Gathering his courage, he fixed a smile on his face, straightened his shoulders, and walked over to her.
"Hey Evans. What are you reading?" he asked, pulling out of his pocket the folded parchment paper on which the patrol schedule was written.
Lily had been entirely engrossed in the book on her lap and thus had not noticed his approach. She jumped ever so slightly when he spoke, recognizing his voice immediately.
"It's for Herbology," she said, keeping her eyes fixed determinedly on the page and trying to keep her voice as level as possible, "and I only have an hour left to finish reading it."
James was a bit surprised at her cool reception. He hadn't realized she was still that miffed.
"Oh.. well, I won't er.. keep you, I guess," he faltered. "I just wanted to know if you had a patrols night preference."
"A what?" she asked, looking up at him in curiosity.
He held up the folded parchment in his hand.
"Well, I was making the patrols rotation for this month, and wanted to know what night works best for you to do it..," he explained. "But I mean, since you're busy and things.."
James let his hand drop and was halfway turned to leave when Lily stopped him by reaching for the paper.
"You were?" she asked, unable to keep all the disbelief out of her tone. In her surprise to learn that he had made of a schedule of his own accord, she forgot that she was still angry with him. Her tone and demeanor softened.
"I er.. any night's fine, really. It's not as though I'll have less homework to do on any one of them."
"Okay, so how's Thursday nights from nine to eleven?" James asked, smiling tentatively down at her. It appeared his peace offering was going to be well-accepted.
"Oh yeah and what were the names of the Slytherin fifth year Prefects? I still have to add them in."
"Thursday's fine," Lily replied, opening up the parchment to inspect what he had done. "And the Slytherin fifth years are Regulus Black and Evelyn Parkinson."
"Funny how it didn't click that it's Padfoot's brother," James mumbled to himself.
Lily, who was busy writing the aforementioned names in the only blank spot left in the schedule, did not hear his comment. Once the patrol schedule was completed, she was silent a few moments, staring down at the parchment in her hands. She was now forced to admit to herself that she had been expecting the worst of James: that she would have to drag him into fulfilling all of his responsibilities, and she was now thrown off-kilter by the fact that he had taken initiative. So, swallowing her pride, she looked up at the Head Boy with a hint of apology in her smile.
"Thanks for doing this," she said, handing the paper back to him. "I guess we'll need to call another Prefects' meeting so we can give them their real Patrols schedule."
"Yeah a meeting would be a good idea," he agreed, returning the smile. "Does Friday work for you?"
"After dinner? Yeah."
"It's a date," he grinned.
Lily's eyes narrowed, but she refrained from commenting on his insinuation, preferring to keep the peace they had just reestablished.
"We have to decide on Hogsmeade weekends and tutoring schedules eventually," was all she said.
"Oh right. Well I wanted a weekend soon, and I'm sure all the seventh-years feel the same. Works been so crazy, you know? And that essay for Flitwick was extremely tedious.." He shook his head and grinned teasingly down at her, adding, "M'sorry, you've got to do your reading. Never pegged you to procrastinate, Evans."
"A September weekend might be nice," the Head Girl replied, chewing idly on her bottom lip as she thought. "Hopefully the weather will still be pleasant then. Maybe.. the last weekend of the month? That gives us time to make announcements for it. And clear the date with Dumbledore of course."
Lily, who was quite adept at Charms, shrugged off the comment about Flitwick's essay, "I dunno. It was fairly simple to me, just a lot to write about." James' last jibe about procrastination caused her to roll her eyes, but she set aside her book and turned in her seat to face him better. "It's okay. It won't take me that long to read. I spent too long on that essay last night is all."
James stared at her in blatant admiration.
"Hang on- you got that essay? On the transient properties of creation versus destruction charms?" he asked incredulously, having been rather perplexed himself. He sucked in a breath and muttered, "Merlin, girl. You're brill."
Lily felt her cheeks staining a bright red, so she shook off the compliment and changed the subject.
"Just good at Charms is all. So. Hogsmeade weekends. If you know the schedule for all the Quidditch games already, that'd be helpful. That way we'll know which six weekends are already out of the running." She assumed that James, as Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain would have all of this information already. Knowing him, he had the year's schedule memorized, as well as stats on all four house teams.
Much to his embarrassment, however, James could not for the life of him remember any of the dates. He knew the season began in November and ended in May, but the specifics were entirely wiped from his mind as Lily asked. He looked upwards, as if the dates had somehow been magically scribed on the ceiling.
"You know," he said sheepishly, "I can't remember them all off the top of my head, funnily enough. Can I get back to you on that one?"
Lily looked surprised, but she shrugged.
"Oh... sure. We don't have to decide everything right away."
"I mean, it's on a schedule I got with this year's letter," he continued. "I just can't think past trials. We're looking to place half the team this year- did you know?"
She shook her head.
"Nope. So... is that bad?" She didn't really know much about Quidditch besides what she had learned in the last six years of cheering on the Gryffindor team.
He laughed.
"Well, maybe. We barely scraped the Cup last year, I don't mind admitting. Mainly, we need a Keeper. You don't play, do you?" The last part was said in jest, as James was fully aware that Lily had no training on the pitch.
"Nope. Sorry," she answered, laughing along with him. "I never really learned much about flying besides those basic lessons we got at the beginning of First Year."
"Really? It's the best sport in the world, Quidditch," James responded, his eyes shining with boyish excitement as he discussed his favorite sport. "And flying is so good for stress relief. S'where you can always find me right before some big exam. There's really nothing like it."
Lily, who did not fully share his obvious enthusiasm for the sport, did not really know what to say, so she merely smiled and agreed, "Yeah.."
After a beat, James seemed to recover himself.
"...So... I'll get those dates for you, and we'll do the Hogsmeade weekends and... yeah."
She nodded.
"And I'll spread the word to the Prefects about the meeting Friday night. Think we can have the Hogsmeade weekends ready by then?"
"Oh, easily," he answered, flashing her a smile.
"Great," Lily replied, picking up her Herbology textbook again. "Well I really do need to finish reading this.."
"Oh, yeah, of course," he said and, much to his chagrin, somehow managed to trip himself up as he turned to go.
Lily politely refrained from laughing at him, but she couldn't help teasing, "Don't go injuring yourself before the season's even started."
James turned back toward her, his ears bright red, and attempted to play off his (literal) misstep as best he could.
"Oh yeah, you too."
His ears tinged an even darker shade as he hurried away, wondering what the hell he had meant by adding "you too." The boy, who was always able to talk his way out of trouble with his peers and authority figures, was somehow often rendered incoherent in the presence of the lovely redhead. In fact, a large percentage of their past squabbles could be attributed to the fact that James seemed unable to keep his foot out of his mouth when in conversation with Lily Evans.
Oh well, he reasoned to himself as he sprawled out on his favorite couch in the center of the common room. At least she's not mad at you anymore this time.
The next couple of weeks passed smoothly and swiftly, as the students settled down into the routine of academic life. Quidditch trials took place in the second week of school, giving James a chance to fill out the missing spots in his roster. He was quite pleased with his new recruits and, after seeing the whole team fly together in their first practice of the year, felt extremely confident that the Quidditch Cup would be Gryffindor's again this year. He and the other two Chasers (who were both sixth years) had been playing together for the past two years and now flew as a cohesive unit. Jordan Brumley, a fifth year who had tried out unsuccessfully for Seeker last year, must have been practicing over the summer; his trial this year was nearly perfect. James had also found another Beater to play alongside Sirius: a short but burly fellow named Joshua Finch who had very good aim with his Beater's bat. The only other player he had needed was a Keeper, and he had found the perfect replacement in Nancy O'Donnell, a fourth year with a thick Irish brogue who was adept at remaining on her broomstick while performing various acrobatics to keep the Quaffle from going through one of her goal hoops. Yes, his chances of securing another Quidditch Cup were looking very good indeed.
One particular September evening, having just returned from another successful practice, James was taking a break from his various responsibilities and lounging on the sofa with a book in his hands. He was so absorbed in his reading that he did not notice the Head Girl had approached him until she cleared her throat and asked, "Potter? Can I have a word?"
Startled by the interruption, he jerked his head up, glasses askew, "Hm?"
Hazel eyes widened ever so slightly as he recognized Lily standing beside his couch, her arms crossed over the library book that she was clutching against her chest and an expression of vague apprehension on her lovely face. This latter observation he chose to ignore, as he closed his book and happily gave her his full attention.
"Oh for you, Evans, anything."
Lily chose to ignore this implications of this comment, something she had begun to do more frequently of late. She had learned over the past two and a half weeks of working with him that things were much easier if she refrained from jumping on every comment James made that could be interpreted as flirtatious. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if he even knew what he was saying most of the time. Perhaps he'd been trying to flirt with her for so long that it now came as naturally to him as breathing. In any case, she did not want to get into that sort of discussion right now. It was bad enough that she had to ask Potter for help on a school assignment, but there was really no one else to turn to for help. She had spent the past two hours in the library trying to understand the concept they had just learned in Transfiguration, but to no avail. When she had asked Remus, her usual study buddy, for his help, he had been just as lost as she was. It was Remus who had suggested that she ask the Head Boy, and so Lily, who for some reason found it hard to stomach the idea of asking James Potter for academic assistance, had trudged back to the Gryffindor Common Room in search of him.
That was why she looked so uncomfortable as she stood beside his couch, fiddling with the strap of the school bag slung over her right shoulder, and explained the reason for her unusual request. "Thanks. Er.. I just had a question about the Transfiguration essay that Remus said you might be able to help me with."
James grinned; inside, he was jumping for joy at the fact that Lily Evans had actually come to him for help with something. Surely this was forward progress! Yet he couldn't resist teasing her a bit.
"Is this some underhanded plot to get me all alone and vulnerable so you can jump me?"
Predictably, her response was a scowl and a quick retort: "You really need to see someone about these delusions you keep having. All those Dungbombs you've set off over the years must have finally gotten to you."
"Yes, well. Lucky for me, there's a support group that meets in classroom three every Monday at midnight," he replied, shrugging off her biting retort. "What question have you got?"
"Um..," she hesitated a moment then perched herself on the arm of the couch and pulled her textbook from her schoolbag.
"Just about the theory, I guess," she said, thumbing to the correct chapter. "We're supposed to be proving why it's harder to transfigure an animate object into an inanimate object and back into an animate one than it is to just transfigure an inanimate object into an animate one. But.. I don't see why that's so."
He considered her question for a moment, scratched the back of his neck and closed his eyes.
"Well, you see," he began, opening his eyes and turning to settle into a more comfortable position on the couch as he faced Lily. "It has to do largely with a bit of logic. You can enchant something to move, can't you? Like if I wanted to, I could transfigure a book into a cat. But a book is considered an inanimate object. I have simply taken it from its original state of non-being, and made it be. At its core, the cat has no soul. You can't conjure an abstraction like that, even if you're Dumbledore or even Merlin. It's just not possible. So, in the same sense, I can take a stray off the street and turn it in to a bookcase. It, because it is a being, would become a bookcase with an abstraction attached to it. Like a soul."
He paused for a moment, realizing that he had been rambling on, and queried, "Am I confusing you further?"
"No. I think I get it," answered Lily, who had been listening with her brow furrowed and her gaze fixed on the relevant text in the book. "So you mean the difficulty lies in the soul part? Because an inanimate object wouldn't naturally have a soul, but if it has been transfigured from a natural one, it does? So when you want to transfigure it back into an animate object, you have to make sure to give it its soul back properly too?"
James grinned, pleased that she was catching on that quickly and that he had been able to explain the concept so well.
"Well, the soul doesn't go anywhere. It can't simply fly off for a pint at the Three Broomsticks. An abstraction is still attached, regardless of form. And so, in creating the appearance of life, you cannot create real life. Your creation, though magical, is yet a sham in its most basic sense."
"Uh huh," Lily agreed, nodding along and shutting her textbook. "So that would mean that it's easier to turn a plant into a teapot and back into a plant than it is to turn a cat into a teapot and back into a cat, right? Because plants are.. erm.. less-souled than cats?"
With a wry grin, she added, "According to non-hippies, I mean."
He laughed.
"Careful what you say. Remember that Trelawney chick from when we were fourth years? She would just about have a fit. But, according to the theory, yes."
"Yeah. She probably would've. Or just accosted me in the hallway and forced me to listen to her prediction of my gruesome impending death."
With a smile, Lily returned her book to her school bag and stood up. "Well.... thanks. You know, from the small amount of notes you take in class, I would never have guessed you knew all of this."
James chuckled again and lounged back against the couch cushion, resting his hands behind his head.
"Notes arent everything, Miss Evans. I dunno. Me and Transfiguration just kinna click." He gave her a half-smile and continued, "Thanks, though. Lemme know if you need any help with anything else."
"Evidently you do," she replied. "Yeah I will. Thanks again."
Shouldering her bag, she turned as if to leave, but then paused and asked, "Say, how's the Quidditch team coming along? I hear you found some great new players."
"Oh. Yeah!" he answered, surprised, but very glad, that she was still hanging around to talk to him. As interesting as his book was, conversation with his favorite redhead was infinitely more so. "It's going swimmingly. Quidditch Cup's in the bag this year."
"Yeah?" Lily responded. "Well.. good. I can't wait to watch the first match."
"You won't be disappointed," he promised. "We're playing Ravenclaw, and they haven't had a decent Keeper since fifth year."
"Even better," she said. "So far, our chances look good!"
James grinned.
"There's a League scout rumoured to be coming to see the final in May. I've got my fingers crossed, at least. Can you imagining playing for a pro team? Or England? Merlin, I'd die for the chance."
"Oooo that would be brilliant," she replied. It was easy to imagine him making a career out of the sport he loved so much. But, lest she increase his already sizable ego, she smirked at him and teased, "Hope you make it to the Quidditch Final then."
"Hah, thanks....," he laughed. After a pause, he inquired, "Have you ever been to a professional match? Like the League, or a World Cup?"
"Oh.. no. I don't really follow Quidditch outside of school. I mean, I didn't know it existed until I came to Hogwarts."
He seemed genuinely surprised to hear that anyone wasn't as enraptured by the sport as he was.
"Really? Oh, well I suppose that makes sense. I'll have to take you to a Catapults match sometime - if you think Hogwarts matches are fun, you won't believe the real time."
Lily was silent for a moment, suddenly nervous at the turn their conversation had taken. Was he aware that he had essentially asked her out again? She glanced cautiously up at his face, but the Head Boy did not appear to understand the implications of what he'd just said. Rather than comment on it, she chose to divert the conversation.
"I'm guessing the Catapults are your favorite pro team?"
"Two-time World Champions and last year's winner of the British League Championship," he replied proudly.
"Nice," Lily commented, unsure what else to say. After a slightly awkward pause, she shrugged and said, "Well I'll let you get back to your reading." With that, she turned 'round and crossed the common room to her favorite window seat, where she began work on her Transfiguration essay.
James watched her walk away, not bothering to keep the grin off his face (or his eyes above her waist) now that her back was to him. Yes, the semester was progressing very well indeed. His schoolwork was not yet at an atrociously high level. He had his mates and his brilliant Quidditch team to keep his mind sufficiently distracted from his lessons. And, best yet, the girl of his dreams seemed to be warming up to him. With the happy grin still on his face, he picked up his book again and resumed his reading.