by CrazyDragon
Summary: AU Marauders Era, their fourth Hogwarts year. James sees something that shocks him into seeing the truth about someone, rather than his cherished false perception... Tobias Snape is a wizard in this AU, and a Death Eater--that's the biggest change from canon before this point, and what ends up shoving it *wa-a-ay* AU. ,'=] It starts out in the boys' fourth year of school.
A/N: I should probably warn you; I like the potential of the character Severus Snape best of all in the Potterverse...and the Marauders would've had a high holy hell of a time if I'd been a classmate of theirs, 'cause I utterly *detest* self-righteous bullies. (A/N-slash-"bullies rant" continued at end, if anyone's interested. It's one of my Buttons, so I got a bit wordy...)
Edit 12-29-09: Grr, hadn't realized the Disclaimer line was missing from my first posting--I write my stories in one single MSWord file, and copy individual chapters out for posting. Somehow, I must have missed the before-chapter-heading stuff. ::sigh:: Nothing else has changed.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters therefrom are J.K. Rowlings' babies, not mine; and I'm not earning a red cent off this fun exercise.
Chapter 1James Potter pressed himself close against the giant tree trunk, wide-eyed and icy-veined with shock--and a strong desire to remain unseen; while at the same time morbid curiosity wouldn't let him tear his eyes away from the horrifying scene in the small, moonlit clearing. Mistake, oh, Merlin, this was a mistake--! He regretted following his classmate out the gate and across the castle grounds after he'd spotted the boy sneaking down the hallways, an hour after curfew. He'd thought the other boy was Up To Something, and wanted to know what it was--maybe he could use it against the slimy git the next day, even if it wasn't something against James and his friends. Their House-based antipathy was mutual, and long-standing. James had smirked and thought that his restless trip to the kitchens for a midnight snack would wait.
Naturally, it never once crossed his mind to inform any of the professors. Not only would that get him in trouble as well, for on the wrong side of the Fat Lady's portrait after curfew; but then he wouldn't be able to level Just Retribution on the git of a Slytherin, who so obviously deserved it for being out of the Slytherin dungeons!
Hypocrisy wasn't something teenagers really understood as it applied to themselves, be they Muggle or wizarding teens.
James swallowed, hard, with unwilling sympathy for the scrawny figure now writhing in agony on the ground, desperately trying to choke back sounds of unimaginable torment. It seemed to James that the curse went on forever, though in actuality it couldn't have been more than a couple minutes. He couldn't imagine what it must seem like to the tortured boy; with that tall, thin man in blackest robes standing above him, holding the Unforgiveable Cruciatus curse on his own son--! It was miracle enough that the boy wasn't screaming his agony to shatter the night! James' father had told him how rare it was for a victim of this curse to remain quiet, going so far as to say he hadn't been able to stifle his own screams the one time it had been cast on him. James now believed it--he could almost feel the pain radiating from the boy! How in Merlin's name was he keeping from more than those half-strangled, unnaturally high-pitched grunts?!!
James couldn't believe what was happening! The boy had barely given a rather strained greeting of "Father," before the curse had been viciously cast. How could that man do that--to his own son?!! James couldn't even imagine casting that horrible curse on the boy himself, and that was the person he hated most in all the Wizarding world! But even that slimy Slytherin git Severus Snape didn't deserve to suffer what James was seeing!
When the man finally released the curse, the boy--Snape, who didn't look nearly so greasy and despicable to James now--fell back in a boneless sprawl, serious muscle tremors ripping through his body with enough force to make it quite visibly twitch and shake. It would be a minor miracle if he hadn't torn something in the midst of his agony. James could hear his heavy, raspy breathing quite clearly.
He watched and listened in stunned silence as the drama continued to unfold before him, unable to focus enough to do anything through his shock. The man's next words didn't help him get a grip on himself, either; James had never heard such virulent, cruel taunts in his life--including those he regularly exchanged with that very boy, sprawled so inelegantly on the ground before his eyes.
"You will obey me, you worthless, sniveling waste of flesh!" (James winced hard at that word that Sirius had dubbed as Snape's nickname, almost from the very moment they first met. It was no wonder that was the insult that had finally gotten a reaction from the scrawny little undoubtedly-soon-to-be Slytherin...!) "Your useless carcass is promised to Him, and you will present your disgusting self before Him, with the proper deference and humility; you will take His Mark, and become a proper servant to Him! I don't know why He would want such a useless, pathetic, insignificant excuse for a wizard; but He will be obeyed, in everything--as will I! I am your father, loathe though I am to admit to having sired such a disgusting bag of garbage as you! And I'll strip the putrid flesh off your spongy bones before I'll allow your disrespect!
"Your mother gainsaid me, and you saw for yourself what happened to that fetid bitch for it! How long did it take...?" The venomous tone went quieter for a moment, and speculative--though nowhere near regretful. "She lasted three days, didn't she...the disgusting cow was stronger than I thought. It was her only good point..." Then he leaned down to glare death straight into his son's face as he roared, "If you don't want to die the same way, you'll mend your manner and do as you're told!!"
Snape flinched back--whether from his father's virulence or just the aftereffects from the Cruciatus was impossible to say. It might have been simply from the man's proximity. The undeniably Dark wizard straightened to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest, a venomous sneer on his face as he glared down at his son.
James had gone light-headed with shock as he gaped helplessly, while the boy on the ground painfully gathered his gangly, shivering limbs enough to flop over onto his stomach. His mind distractedly gibbered, Great Merlin, it's no wonder Snape has always been so hard to rile up with just insults! We're downright friendly next to this creep! He watched Snape shakily push himself up until he was kneeling, bent forward, arms braced on thighs. Stringy black hair curtained his face except where the long, crooked nose poked out. The shivers didn't seem to be dying down appreciably, and he obviously couldn't catch his breath. That didn't stop him from speaking, though his gasping took away some of the venom he was trying to inject into his own hoarse-voiced words. It detracted nothing from the stark determination in his tone, though.
"Never!!! I won't--serve that monster; I won't take--his damned slave-mark!!"
James' mouth gaped and his eyes widened in horrified disbelief as Severus Snape, the boy Sirius and he had dubbed 'Snivellus' for crying on their first ride on the Hogwarts Express; the boy he'd long believed to be nothing but a slimy Slytherin coward, and definitely a quite willing future Death Eater--showed a downright idiotic, highly Gryffindor level of defiance towards this abusive man...his own father. Who promptly spat "Crucio!!" once more and watched with noticeable and malicious enjoyment as his son's body arched back to flop spastically about on the ground, a strangled, high pitched scream of pure agony finally ripping from his throat in spite of his obvious effort to hold it in. The only thing keeping it from being earth-shattering was his shortness of breath--he physically couldn't sustain that much volume.
James' fingers clawed at the rough bark before him hard enough to abrade his skin as he watched, fiercely debating with himself whether he should burst out of hiding and do something, or run for help. It wasn't just unaccustomed fear holding him back, though his mouth was dry with it and he could see the shaking in his hands. No, his main problem was the realization that if he didn't immediately get the best of this full-grown, Dark wizard, he'd be easily overcome; and then what help would he be? Who was to say Snape's father wouldn't kill him--kill them both?!! Taking on classmates and an adult squib like Filch, or horsing around with Peeves was one thing; the Headmaster would ensure they got nothing worse in punishment than points loss and a few only moderately miserable detentions, if anything. Taking on an obviously Dark wizard in his prime, with all his knowledge of Dark Arts and an obvious willingness to use it even on his own kin--that was quite another thing!
Especially as this Dark wizard must have some means of blocking the Hogwarts wards from notifying the Headmaster of an Unforgivable being cast in the Forbidden Forest, practically on the castle grounds. He must be strong, to do that!
But who could James get to help, who wouldn't take forever demanding explanations?! It was well after curfew; Filch and most of the professors on regular night patrol were rather short-tempered about finding students still up...and he really didn't think Snape had enough time for him to even just run all the way to the castle and back. As much as he didn't like the Slytherin, he knew Snape certainly didn't deserve to die--especially not at his own father's hands!--and certainly not for refusing to serve He Who Must Not Be Named! Because to James' mind, that was obviously who that man had to have been talking about. That man wanted Snape to take the Dark Mark, and become a real Death Eater.
In James' book, anyone who refused so bravely to join the ranks of those evil wizards just couldn't be all bad. Not even Sniv--
No! James growled angrily to himself; he would not use that name again!! It would be too foul of him to keep using that awful nickname, after this; too dishonorable. James would be no better than Snape's father, if he kept to the petty name-calling after what he'd just witnessed!
Seeing dark liquid burst from Snape's nose, more black than red in the moonlight; and hearing a quite distinct crack! that Quidditch experience told his mind was the breaking of bone, finally tore him from his rather un-Gryffindor dithering. James didn't want to even think about pain so intense that you broke your own bones, just from the strength of your reaction to it!
It felt like time was moving sluggishly in comparison to his zipping thoughts, his limbs leaden and slow to respond as he drew his wand from its pocket in his robes, shoved himself off from the tree, and pelted out into the clearing, concentrating on his horror and anger at such cruelty to drown his fear. If this man would cast an Unforgiveable on his own son, there was no telling what he'd do to James; especially if he realized no one knew where James was!
Anger focused, thoughts racing too fast to really think, James dove between the two, shoving the man's wand-arm aside and jumping back out of arm's reach while yelling, "Stop it! Leave him alone!!" He kept his wand raised and ready, a curse on his lips he was all set to cast, trying not to let the shakiness of his limbs show. He belatedly realized he should have outright grabbed the man's wand and thrown it as far as he could. His father was going to have a fit at that oversight, especially as James wanted to become an Auror some day!
Oh, Merlin; why hadn't he thought of at least trying Expelliarmus from the edge of the clearing, then running towards the castle if it didn't work?! That might have scared the Dark wizard off, and would have been a lot less risky! Even just sending up a whole slew of fireworks to alert the castle would have been smarter than this. Oh, his dad was definitely going to kill him for being an unthinking idiot...!
...though that might also have resulted in an Avada Kedavra being cast on Snape before his father left. So, maybe James wasn't acting quite as inexcusably stupid as he was suddenly afraid he was.
The Unforgivable curse had been broken at the surprise interference, leaving Snape gasping for breath in an awkward sprawl and shaking uncontrollably, with small, pained whimpers breaking from his lips as he struggled just to stay conscious. James couldn't spare him even a worried glance, keeping his eyes glued to the dangerous man in front of him--a man who he suddenly realized must certainly be a full-fledged Death Eater. He was really starting to regret his damnable Gryffindor rush to defend, as the man's angry black eyes fixed on him! A sense of desperation nibbled at the edges of his thoughts. He was only a Fourth-year student at Hogwarts! He didn't know any spells to disable a full-grown wizard!
Why in Merlin's name hadn't he simply hexed the man before he even knew James was there?!! It's not like he'd never used the tactic before!
Granted, he didn't really know how to properly cast Expelliarmus yet, but still--! He certainly knew enough immobilizing hexes, ones they'd had plenty of practice using--on Snape... Oh, and wasn't the wave of shame that rose with that thought strong enough to drown in, and make his wand waver ever so noticeably!
As something in the Forest around them suddenly went crashing away, heading towards the distant castle, inspiration struck James, before Snape's father could recover from his surprise. James grinned fiercely and yelled exuberantly after the fast receding sound, "Go, Padfoot! Get the Headmaster!"
Snape's father glared at him in malignant fury, eyes darting towards the crashing underbrush that was quickly fading into the distance, still seeming to be heading straight for the school. There was a moment of indecision, then the man snarled, spun, and Disapparated, with one last venomous glance at his son that raised James' neck-hairs and sent a lead-footed chill stomping up his spine.
James let out the breath he'd been holding in an explosive rush, amazed at his luck. He couldn't believe that had actually worked! Merlin bless whatever creature had been scared away! He shakily turned to Snape, who didn't look to have the strength to do more than breathe and tremble. And whimper quietly; though he was obviously trying to stifle the small sounds. It was quite possible the barely-conscious boy didn't even realize his four-year nemesis was standing over him. Not that he'd likely be comforted, were he to recognize James Potter just then...at least he ought to know James wouldn't Crucio him--if only because he'd know very well that none of Gryffindor knew how to cast any of the three Unforgivable curses.
Oh, Merlin. James paled and swallowed hard against nausea as he had a sudden epiphany, as to just exactly how Snape could have learned all the Dark curses he was rumored to know. His own father had likely demonstrated them, on him, enough times for him to learn them. A shiver raced up his spine as James understood how lucky he and his friends had been, all their years at Hogwarts, that Snape hadn't used even one of those curses on them.
What had he and Sirius been thinking, bullying a boy who was supposed to know such horrible curses?! If Snape had been anything like what they'd accused him of being, he'd certainly have been expelled for using them by now!
Dropping down to squat at Snape's shoulder, his knees suddenly too watery with relief that Snape's father was gone to hold him up any longer, James sighed in resignation. He stared down at the blood-streaked face of his nemesis, actually looking at the boy as a person for maybe the first time, ever. He'd never paid too close attention to any Slytherin before, other than looking for weaknesses to exploit, in spite of his mother's many, many lectures and his father's sternly disapproving looks.
With the sudden sensation of ice-water shooting through his veins, he realized for the first time in his life just how--Slytherin--he and Sirius tended to behave...at least by their own definition of the House. They set out to hurt Slytherin students with their pranks; in their egos, if not physically--though they never shirked at that either, earning them tight-lipped glares from Madam Pomphrey whenever she laid eyes on them. They were cruel, even downright vicious in their attacks--claiming they were being proactive, striking before "the Slytherins gits" could get them.
If any Slytherin had played the exact same pranks on them or any of their House-mates, they'd have screamed bloody murder to Dumbledore, citing it as proof that Slytherins were inherently "evil".
The problem was, they had no guarantee that any Slytherin would have ever gone after them at all, if they hadn't kept starting things. Even Snape still tended to try to avoid them whenever possible, rather than trying to get revenge on them, or be "proactive". And he, of all people, had cause!
James and his friends lied to the teaching staff when they were caught, laughing as they blamed their victims; they snuck around the school when- and where-ever they pleased, breaking any rule that wasn't convenient to them, while trying to get Slytherins in trouble for doing the exact same thing; he and Sirius, especially, insulted and provoked and sabotaged any Slytherin they could find--
James shook his head sharply, shoving the unwelcome revelations to the back of his mind for later worrying. It seemed his mother's summer-long lectures since his first Hogwarts year about bullying and unwarranted prejudice might just have finally found purchase in his brain, and were clawing their way in towards his actually understanding what she meant. He didn't want to understand--it showed him and his friends in a very, very bad light, and chopped his ego down lower than his heels with a blade of pure mortification...but he wanted more than anything to be like his father; wanted to be an Auror, a hero that everybody could respect. To do it properly, in a way that his father could be proud of him, meant owning up to his own mistakes as soon as he realized them--and then fixing them. Not to mention not ever repeating them again!
Merlin help him, he was going to have to be friendly to the snarky Slytherin now! James shivered briefly, feeling like his neck hairs were standing straight out. Then he looked back down at the boy lying brokenly on the ground in front of him, and shamed remorse drowned the prejudicial distaste.
Too-pale skin looked white in the moonlight, shadow-blackened blood still dribbling sluggishly from the corners of his mouth and both nostrils of the beaky, too-large nose...whose appearance hadn't been helped a bit by all the times James and his friends had broken it. It hadn't been so unsightly when Snape first came to Hogwarts... James winced, his mother's disappointed voice ringing in his ears. Making fun of someone for a fault he'd personally helped make worse was not going to set well with her when she found out!
Snape's breaths were coming ragged and shallow, more like panting; the usually intense obsidian eyes were shut tight in pain, the thin lips curled under in a tight grimace showing bloody, crooked teeth--he must have bitten through cheek or tongue while in the throes of his father's curse. --And just how did his teeth get to be so crooked, anyway? The same way as his nose? James couldn't remember what Snape's teeth had used to look like, but he knew for a fact he and Sirius had loosened those teeth several times. There was only so much medi-wizardry could do; extensive repeated use of healing spells and potions on growing children sometimes started to lose effectiveness, or caused abnormal growth patterns.
--Did Snape's father do this sort of torture to Snape every time he went home?! Add frequent curse-injuries like this to the Marauders' pranks, and the Slytherin was lucky that Madam Pomphrey could help him at all, anymore!
James' thoughts skittered on with observations, totally out of his conscious control as his mind was running on low-level panic and the aftermath of adrenalin near-overload from facing down Snape's father. The Slytherin boy wasn't handsome, not by a long shot--but there was something about Snape's face, when you actually paid any attention to it, that somehow told of determination and inner strength. There was pride etched there, definitely... He certainly never gave up against the Marauders; even at four-to-one odds, with his own House merely watching from the sidelines. He looked years older than fourteen, especially with those lines of pain now clawing into his skin...
...Were Snape's House-mates always just watching? James suddenly remembered times when Snape had disappeared for a day or two into the Hospital Wing, when James and his friends hadn't done anything to him. Oh, Merlin--they'd laughed about that, only too glad the Slytherin was "out of their hair"! What kind of people were he and his friends, to so easily laugh at someone else's pain?! Shame began to burn in his gut. They'd never have laughed if it had been a fellow Gryffindor in Snape's situation; or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff...!
There was something...gracefully elegant, about Snape, something in the way he carried himself; especially those deceptively strong, long-fingered, so-graceful hands. He didn't fidget, or flutter about; every movement had a purpose, and was never exaggerated. He hadn't been clumsy since the end of second year, unless it was a side-effect from a prank curse. He'd hit his major growth spurt at the same time Sirius had, and had now mostly grown into his wiry-muscled body. It really wasn't a wonder James once in a while overheard the girls even of his own House talking dreamily about the now-tall Slytherin outcast. He'd never be as "gorgeous" as Sirius, or even James himself; but his sense of presence apparently made up for it, as far as the girls were concerned.
When Severus Snape said he'd do something, he did it--no matter what it took. Forcing him to do something against his will was nearly impossible, even for the Headmaster...but his personal sense of honor would make him do things no one else was willing to do. Like, he was the only one who'd ever given any sort of apology, no matter how grudging, to any-one, during their long-standing mutual prank war. The Marauders merely laughed off the discomfort of teachers and classmates alike; both their inconvenience, and sometimes minor injury...while Snape--he apologized to the bystanders, both the innocent and the not-so-innocent--even when he hadn't been the one to cause them harm; and even when they had done nothing to help him, preferring to laugh at his misfortune.
James had used Snape's mannerly little habit to get himself out of trouble with his mother; when she heard some of the things he'd done, she always wanted to know if he'd apologized to the people he'd inconvenienced. He could truthfully say they'd gotten an apology; it just never occurred to his mother that the apology hadn't come from James and his friends. Sirius had always blown it off as Slytherin sucking-up, trying to weasel out of trouble...trouble the Marauders had generally started, James' long-dormant conscience prodded sharply.
Who of them was the most honorable? By their own actions and words, not their House reputations?
James cringed at his new self-knowledge. One thing really bothered him, though: Why did the Headmaster always reward Gryffindor when they were the callous, disrespectful ones who--admittedly--started nearly all of the trouble? Take away the Marauders' bullying, and Snape would most likely spend all of his time with his nose in a book, bothering absolutely no one! If he did end up going Dark--even though it looked to James like Snape would truly rather die, than let that happen!--wouldn't it be at least partly the fault of all of them who were practically shoving him down that path, instead of helping him? What was the Headmaster thinking?!
James swallowed in a dry throat. "Marauders"--they'd thought it a grand name, when Lily first called them that in a fit of temper. It was only last year they'd finally looked up what the worn meant; they'd just thought it was another way of saying "pirates", and pirates were such interesting, free-living chaps! They hadn't realized the insult she was giving them at the time; and then they'd romanticized it, taking it as their badge of honor.
Merlin...his father was going to more than go ballistic when he found out what his one and only son and heir had been up to, for pretty much all of his Hogwarts career up 'til now! James wasn't looking forward to the tongue-lashing that was going to come due when next he went home. Because he would have to tell his parents; his conscience, once awakened, wouldn't let him rest until he came clean about his wrongs. At least it would only be yelling, and likely losing about all of his privileges until he was old and grey as Dumbledore.
Looking at the injured Snape, James realized he didn't know if he'd have been able to stand up to a father who thought nothing of casting an Unforgivable on his own son. What else had the man done to Snape? And what had he meant, about Snape's mother? Had he meant--had Snape's own father, really killed his own wife--Snape's mother?!! Horror trickled through James at the mere thought; followed closely by a wash of deep guilt. Snape obviously had a home-life straight from Hell...and James and his friends had done their level best to make his time at Hogwarts another kind of living Hell. School should have been a sanctuary for Snape; relief from whatever tortures he endured from his father. Where else could Snape go, to escape?
James, with his two loving parents and happy home life--he could barely grasp the idea of what Snape's life was really like. Could Sirius, with his more abusive parents? Sirius, who was on the verge of being disowned for his refusal to support his parents' belief in Wizarding blood purity...?
Oh dear Merlin--Snape and Sirius had a lot more in common than James had ever thought! If Snape had been Sorted into Gryffindor; if Sirius hadn't argued the Hat into putting him in Gryffindor--Severus might have ended up his best friend, instead of Sirius! James didn't know yet if he should feel horrified, or cheated.
Then James blanched. He and Sirius had been Sorted before Snape...and the Hat hadn't exactly shouted its choice the instant it hit that greasy head. Snape's Sorting had been the longest of their Year, and every one since, too, if he remembered right. Had Snape been arguing against being put in Gryffindor, because the two prats who tormented him on the Hogwarts Express had already been Sorted there...? That wasn't possible, was it? Snape had seemed to fit so well into Slytherin...
...Hadn't he?
Sweet Merlin, he'd just displayed more foolhardy Gryffindor bravery than James ever had!
What had Snape done, really, to deserve James and Sirius' constant abuse? Been homesick on his first train-ride to school?
--Had it been homesickness? James suddenly remembered something his own father had said, during his first Christmas holiday back home. James had been regaling his parents with fancifully embroidered tales of what he and his new best friends had been doing at school, and casting Severus Snape as the evil, slimy git they'd wanted him to be. Harold Potter had given him a rare disappointed Look, shaking his head and sighing. James had then endured a lengthy lecture on tolerance and compassion and such, along with quite stern orders to leave the Slytherin alone--all of which James had promptly forgotten. Harold had then looked away to his wife, their eyes meeting with a look of sadness as he commented, "That poor boy--I can't imagine, finding your own mother in such a state; and right before starting Hogwarts, too..."
Sweet Merlin...when, exactly, had Snape's mother died? James had a horrible feeling he now knew just why that scrawny little greasy-haired, ugly slip of a boy had been struggling so mightily not to cry, on their first ride on the Hogwarts Express. And Sirius and he had called him names for it--!
If his mother ever discovered the complete facts about how their feud had started, James--and Sirius!--would be lucky to escape to Azkaban for the rest of their lives, Dementors and all! And oh, but they'd deserve it...!
James hadn't thought anything of what his father said at that time. He'd been eleven years old; the only things on his mind had been Quidditch, pranks on Slytherins, and ways to skive off classes. Compassion for a fellow student--especially an 'evil' Slytherin!--wasn't something eleven year old Gryffindor boys came by very easily.
He wasn't eleven any more. He was nearly fifteen, and starting to think about more than his own selfish little world. Starting to realize that his eleven year old self's judgment of people--might not have been right.
Oh, Merlin...! Had it all really started when he and Sirius decided to mock Snape's grief over his mother's horrible death? For it surely must have been horrible, it that man had done it! James cringed in utter shame at the thought. His self-image was taking more of a beating than at any other time in his life; his ego would be practically non-existent when he was done with the self-revelations, at this rate!
Sighing again, James stood up and drew his wand, backing up a step. He thought carefully about a spell he'd seen the teaching staff cast a little too often, between he and his friends' pranks and frequent Quidditch accidents. He knew the precise wand movement, and the Latin word of incantation. He usually managed to get new spells right on his first try when he'd only seen them demonstrated once; he would be able to do this. Determinedly keeping in mind slow and careful movement, he pointed his wand at Snape and for the first time, James cast "Mobilicorpus!"
There was no way he'd be able to carry Snape back to the castle. Especially if he wanted to avoid hurting him any further.
He was gratified to see the boy's body rise gently into the air to about chest-height, with barely a bobble and not a sound of protest at the movement--so he hadn't hurt him with the spell. James could feel his magic wrapped around the boy, cocooning him from harm. He wondered briefly if that was what this spell was supposed to feel like, but didn't let himself be distracted from his spellcasting. Much as he would have found it hilarious an hour ago to drop Snape on his head, now the thought made him cringe as if it were Sirius floating there. No--as if it were his mother; Sirius could be a total prat even to his best friends on occasion, and there had been a few rare times when they'd justifiably let him have it. Though they'd never quite sent him to the hospital wing...
...as they frequently did to Snape...
James shoved his increasingly guilty conscience to the back of his mind and locked it away for a while, concentrating on the magic and maneuvering the smoothly floating body in front of him, where he could be certain he didn't hurt him by clumsily knocking him into a tree, or something. Snape was apparently in too much pain to even notice he wasn't still lying on the ground; and he was still twitching all over--not good signs. James swallowed back a surge of unusual concern as he carefully guided his shallowly panting classmate all the long trek to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomphrey would be able to help Snape--with the after-effects of those two Cruciatus curses, anyway. He frowned in worry when he realized he didn't know what bone had broken; but he wasn't about to risk hurting Snape more by trying to find out himself. He'd just have to hurry--carefully.
He wanted the both of them inside the safety of Hogwarts' anti-Apparation wards as soon as possible! What if Snape's father suspected his ruse, and decided to come back?
James didn't know what could be done about Snape Senior. If it were a Gryffindor student in question, he had no doubts whatsoever that the Headmaster would 'fix' things in the student's benefit. But--Severus Snape was a Slytherin. James had used the Headmaster's own prejudice against Slytherin House to his and his friends' benefit for years; he couldn't pretend he wasn't aware of it. He'd just--never before thought it unjustified. He'd shared the same prejudice, after all. Gryffindors were intrinsically better than slimy, cheating Slytherins--why shouldn't they get a break, and Slytherin the boot?
A shudder wracked James as his mind, having finally seen what Lily Evans and some few others had been trying to tell him for years now, started throwing memories at him--showing him things he'd been too blind to notice at the time. Things that proved that it was he and Sirius, more than any Slytherin, who were the most obnoxious, bullying gits at Hogwarts. Gits accomplished at skiving out of trouble at the expense of others...others who were generally innocent, until provoked into action.
James had to admit, after several more vivid remembrances, that he'd certainly have retaliated against them just as violently as Snape did, were he in the Slytherin's position--maybe even worse! James would never have been able to ignore as much as Snape had managed to; not even in the face of four-to-one odds!
Would the Headmaster even be willing help Snape? Or would he leave the Slytherin to dangle in the capricious winds of fate and chance? Snape didn't want to become a Death Eater, that much was patently obvious; but would the Headmaster help him avoid it? Snape was "just a Slytherin," after all. "He'll end up a Death Eater anyway, you know..."
Would Albus Dumbledore actually do nothing to help a boy who was quite obviously being abused, whose home-life could be nothing but pure Hell--who was being forced into service to He Who Must Not Be Named against his own will? A boy directly under his responsibility as a student at Hogwarts? James didn't want to think that about the Headmaster; but he wasn't naïve enough any longer to discount the possibility. He'd just have to wait and see.
If nothing else--he was absolutely certain that his own father would take steps, once he knew. Part of his frantically whirling thoughts were diverted from fretting by composing the letter home he'd be sending, just as soon as he could get to the Owlry. Granted, knowing his parents, this might just end up with Snape living in James' own house, with his family...
Grim resolve flowed into James as he realized he'd actually be willing to put up with the snarky git, knowing what he now knew. Maybe--
Maybe if he actually got to really know the true Severus Snape, rather than what he'd always assumed about the boy...they might actually become sort-of friends. Lily had been arguing that for years. He supposed now that it might be vaguely, eventually possible.
Or at the least, maybe, possibly, they could be allies...
Oh, Sirius was not going to like that!
To be continued...
A/N, cont.: As a classmate to Snape and the Marauders, either as a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, I'd have gua-ran-TEED they had reason to knock it off with the incessant pranks--and that Dumbledore would have gotten more Howlers than he knew how to deal with, if he so much as considered letting them off easy for the harassment! ::growling and snorting fire for a moment:: I wouldn't have been pranking them back, either; I'd have been asking for help where appropriate--from other students, other Houses, adults there or at home, whatever it took. I'm practical that way. =} (This actually means I'd have probably sic'ed Mommy on Dumbledore. Fire-breathing dragons ain't got NOTHIN' on my Mom in a child-defending temper!! She makes Molly Weasley seem almost an indifferent parent, on the protectiveness scale!)
I also tend to not give the reactions pranksters are looking for, if they've gotten carried away...catching a nuclear blast in the face when you were expecting a firecracker at the most tends to be a tad bit discouraging for most pranksters. Especially when the blast encourages a chain reaction of the undesirable kind of 'destruction.' I'm one of those shy, small, quiet, forgettable ones who scare the bejeezus out of the tough guys when my temper actually manifests. =]
A-hem. That said, I don't think the Marauders were incorrigible--they just didn't get the strict guidance and discipline they needed while at school. So much of their potential was lost, or at least delayed until they could finally get around to growing up. For instance, imagine how the story would have changed if Sirius had learned some self-control, before tearing off vengeance-bound after Peter? So I decided to write something where the process starts before they graduate.
I firmly believe that judicious humorous pranking, that does no harm, is fine--and that includes actual harm to the target's image, which includes their self-image. Completely and utterly humiliating someone is not a simple prank--that's just plain cruelty, and the damage lasts much longer than broken bones. Pranking someone continually, day-in and day-out, is also Not Fine. Basically, if your target is not laughing with you, you've gone too far, and immediate apologies are owed. Some folks just shouldn't be pranked unless you've taken the time to become real friends with 'em first, and make sure they understand it's not meant with ill-will! And bystanders should never be inconvenienced unduly, much less harmed in direct consequence of a prank. That's just not on!
I also don't like pranks in the classroom, during lessons. There's a time and a place for pranking, just like with everything else; allowing it to happen all the time does the pranksters no favors in the long run of Life (it can easily cost them well-paying jobs in the future--VERY few employers will put up with pranksters), and it ruins the lives of the victims who can't get away from it even to complete their education.