"James, is someone in your family an Animagus?" Remus asked. James looked up so sharply he thought he might have cricked his neck.

"Not unless there's something they're not telling me. Why?"

The four of them were lounging on the floor in the study of Ketterleigh Castle, a set of Exploding Snap cards between them. The July sun glinted off the damp glass and shone through the window, bathing the four of them in light.

"Well, it's just that you've got about fifty books about Animagi in here."

Damn. James, Sirius and Peter had been working in there when Remus arrived after the full moon. They'd just pushed the books to the side and forgotten about them.

Remus looked at them.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Sirius said, his best innocent expression firmly in place. "Only that your card is about to explode round about…now!"

Sure enough, the card in Remus's hand exploded, causing Remus to drop it on the floor and rub his burnt fingers.

"You are far too good at this game," James said to Sirius. "I'm sure that's unhealthy."

Remus was still looking at them.

"No. Peter's looking shifty," he said. "What are you up to?"

Sirius and James looked accusingly at Peter, who was going red. Over Peter's head, they nodded to each other.

"We're trying to become Animagi," Sirius said.

Remus laughed. He stopped. He gaped at them. "You're serious?"

Sirius opened his mouth, but James jabbed him.

"Don't even think about starting that up again."

Sirius looked wounded. "Yes," he said, trying to sound dignified. " We are serious."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "You realise that there have only been, what, four Animagi this century?"

"Five," said Peter. Remus stared at him. For a few seconds, he seemed incapable of speech. "What on earth has possessed you to try?" he finally managed.

"You," said James.

Remus took a sharp breath. "You're mad. You know how dangerous…? And you'll never do it."

James got up. "We'll see. It's stopped raining. Who's for Quidditch?"

Sirius stood up and walked out of the room with James and Peter following behind.

"Why have I made you want to be Animagi?" Remus asked that evening.

James sighed. He'd thought that the matter had been dropped. Remus certainly seemed to have forgotten about it during the exciting Quidditch game; James and Peter versus Sirius and Remus which, as usual, degenerated into James versus Sirius with Remus refereeing and Peter cheering.

"Werewolves can't hurt animals," Sirius said in a low voice.

The room was very still.

"Werewolves can't hurt…" Remus was frowning.

"We wanted to be able to keep you company. All right?" Sirius said, his voice rising. James didn't know why Sirius was angry; Remus hadn't said anything…yet.

"You wanted to...? Merlin, Sirius! You and James do some stupid things, but this? How on earth are you ever going to be…and even if you did…you think I would let you? You could kill yourselves trying, did you know that? I've read the books for next year, and there're some horrible stories in there, about…"

James, Sirius and Peter stared at Remus as though he had grown an extra head. Quiet, soft-spoken Remus had never, ever shouted like that. Remus's chest was rising and falling rapidly. The last time James had seen anyone look so enraged was his mother, when he'd tied an exploding firecracker to the cat's tail when he was seven. He got up and pulled out a book from the stack that lined the study walls. It fell open at a much-read page, and he handed the book to Remus.

"Read that."

Remus read it, the other three watching closely.

"It's not exaggerating, is it?" Sirius said in a harsh voice.

Remus looked up, but James cut in. "There're a couple of other books we've found. Some have drawings of the actual transformation. They're in the Restricted Section of the library, but we've seen them. If that's what happens when a person becomes a werewolf, then it doesn't really bother us if becoming Animagi is 'a bit' dangerous. Anyway," he added, with a quick grin at Sirius, "it's only dangerous for stupid people. We're fine."

Remus snorted, a trace of a smile appearing on his face. His eyes moved back to the book, and the smile disappeared.

"Is-is that really what happens?" Peter asked him.

Remus shut the book with a snap. "No," he said. "Not really."

Peter looked puzzled, but James felt a chill creep down his spine. The descriptions in the book were bad enough, but to actually go through it…

He was very glad that his mother chose that moment to call them for supper.

July seeped slowly into August. Once Sirius, Remus and Peter had gone home, James thought that the hot summer days were dragging unbearably. Home was boring without his friends. James could only wonder at what he used to do with himself all the time before he started school. In the room which had been his playroom, he surveyed the piles and stacks of games, neatly packed into cupboards by one of the house-elves. He'd spent hours playing with some of these. He grinned as his eye fell on a battered old box, and he pulled it from the shelf, along with everything else that had been on top of it.

On the box's tatty cover was a picture of a Quidditch pitch. Fourteen cartoon figures beamed at him, waving as they swooped past on their brooms. As he stared, the Snitch flew up at him, making him blink, before it whizzed back to lurk on the corner of the cardboard cover. James had spent hours playing with this model Quidditch set. He opened it and fingered the familiar players. It was funny how ancient the broomsticks looked now. He could remember being given it by his grandfather when he was about six years old. The players had seemed so perfect then. He smiled down at the Keeper, whose head had been chewed off as a result of an encounter with his Uncle St John's krup.

All these games felt incredibly babyish to him, now that he was a proper Quidditch player. James set up the model pitch and practiced Chaser formations for a while, but he soon lost interest. Flying was better when you were actually doing it yourself, and he had no one to fly with, now that Sirius was gone. He sifted through the pile of toys which had fallen from the shelf. He pocketed the half-full pot of itching powder that he found beneath the child-sized Falmouth Falcons hat. It could be useful at some point. His hand brushed a small object. It was a large Snitch. He remembered it from his 'My First Quidditch Set'. The Snitch twitched slightly in the palm of his hand; most of the flying charm had worn off over the years. James leant against the wall and began to pass the small ball from hand to hand.

It wasn't fair . Nobody had time for him anymore. Well, no one but the house-elves, although he did try to create more work for them by asking for food at odd times of the day. His mum was always ready to chat, but then someone would floo, and she'd have to rush off, or sometimes he'd be talking, and then this blank look would come over her face, and James could tell that she wasn't really listening. Nor was his mum much use at Quidditch. She wasn't too bad at Chasing, but there wasn't much point practicing Chasing with just two of you and no Keeper or Beaters. She was an awful Keeper, and she flatly refused to aim Bludgers at him. His dad was a good Beater, although James thought that the Bludgers were aimed behind him rather than at him. But his dad was busy this holiday. He'd been spending more and more time at work recently, all because of this man, this Voldemort. James threw the Snitch a bit harder. It wasn't as if Voldemort were a new problem. James had first heard of him a few years ago, on the WWN. He'd been saying that Muggle-borns shouldn't be allowed. That wizards shouldn't mix with Muggles. At the time, James hadn't paid much attention. Last summer, his parents hadn't seemed very happy, but he'd thought that was because Granny had died. Over Easter, Sirius had been around, and so James hadn't minded his dad's longer hours or his mum getting distracted. But now, James was on his own, and it was all because of that Voldiebloke. James had laughed at the name, but the pained expression on his father's face had made him stop.

"But it's a load of stinksap," he had scoffed. "Everyone knows that being Muggle-born doesn't make you a bad wizard."

"I agree," his father had said. "What this Lord Voldemort says does seem to be a, well, you put it very succinctly, James. Yet he's become very popular." Mr Potter had raked his hand through his hair. "He's become very popular, and that means he's powerful."

As far as James could work out, his dad was worried, because there was going to be a new Minister for Magic, and this Voldemort might get lots of votes. And they didn't want Voldemort to become Minister for Magic, because he wouldn't let the Muggle-borns be wizards. James was proud of his dad for trying to stop Voldemort. Remus's mum was a Muggle-born, and she was really nice. He didn't want anyone to get rid of her or any of the other Muggle-borns. But he wished his dad were around to play Quidditch.

At long last, September the first arrived, and James found himself standing with his parents on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, looking round for Sirius and the others. He quickly spotted Peter, but as Peter's mother was busy sobbing over him as usual, James decided to steer clear.

Besides him, James's father nodded at the McKinnons. Marlene looked very bored as she eyed James. James stuck his tongue out at her; Marlene rolled her eyes and turned away.

"Edmund!" Mr Potter called out a greeting, and James followed his father's eyes to the barrier, where the Lupins had just appeared.

"Jolyon, how are you?" Mr Lupin shook Mr Potter's hand. James grinned at Remus.

"Busy," Mr Potter answered. Mr Lupin nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said. "I imagine you would be."

James could see that his father looked worried again. Mr Lupin did, too.

"It was so kind of you to let Remus come and stay," Mrs Lupin said, smiling brightly at James's mother.

"Honestly, he was an absolute pleasure to have about," Mrs Potter said in an determinedly cheerful voice. "I only hope that his manners start to rub off on James."

James felt put out. "I have manners," he said. "I don't lick my knife like Peter does, anyway."

"Where is Peter?" asked Remus, looking about. "Oh," he said, spotting the weeping Mrs Pettigrew. He grimaced. "Should we rescue him?"

"Nah," James said. "I think we should let them be."

Remus looked rather relieved.

As their parents talked, James and Remus watched students and their parents filter by onto the platform. A burly, hook-nosed man and a dark, meek little woman walked by with Severus Snape, who swapped a menacing glare with James. A minute later, Gideon Prewett bounced up to talk to James..

"You all right?" Gideon asked.

"Yeah, you?"

"I'm fine," Gideon said, grinning. "They made me Captain this year, so be prepared for some serious Quidditch. That cup has our name on it."

"What are you going to do? Drop yourself from the team?"

Gideon swatted James. "Watch it, Potter, or you'll be out on your arse."

Out of the corner of his eye, James could see his father raising his eyebrows at Gideon's words. The next moment, his father's face took on a shadowed expression. A tall woman stalked past, eyeing the Potters and Lupins disdainfully. She was accompanied by a pale-haired, faded-looking man. A young boy was walking between them, and dragging his feet at the back of the group was Sirius. Sirius glanced at James and Remus.

"Sirius!" snapped the woman. Sirius turned to James and Remus and winked at them before following his family to the centre of the platform, close to where Narcissa Black stood with her parents.

James and Remus hovered near the Black family group. James pulled faces at Sirius, who tried to keep a straight face, while his mother briefed him for the coming year.

"You will not cast your shame upon Regulus," Mrs Black said. "You will not encourage him to deviate. "

James, standing behind Mrs Black, could not see her expression, yet her voice was pure venom. As he mouthed the words 'You will not encourage him to deviate,' with over the top expressions, he looked at Regulus, who stood next to Sirius. The two brothers were very similar. Both had dark hair and grey eyes, but Regulus's chin was weaker, and, while Sirius's face was fixed in a glare as he looked as his mother, Regulus's eyes flickered about the platform. He always looked afraid, James noticed. He took in James's antics with a timid sneer, and his eyes rested on his mother with a look of fearful devotion.

On the train, both Sirius and Peter were pleased to have extricated themselves from their mothers. The four of them settled in a compartment. Within seconds, the door opened, and in walked Regulus walked.

"Sirius?"

Sirius sighed. "Can't you go and find some first years to bother?"

Regulus bit his lip. "I don't know anyone."

"Well, you won't unless you go and talk to them, Reg."

Regulus looked hopeful. "Can I stay here with you? Please, Sirius?"

Sirius glanced at James, Remus and Peter. Remus's face was neutral, and Peter was eyeing Regulus with dislike. James's eyes flicked to Regulus and back to Sirius. Sirius's brother seemed so feeble compared to Sirius, who would never stay where he wasn't wanted.

"Go away, Regulus," Sirius snapped. "Mother said you're not allowed to talk to me."

With a last, pleading look at his brother, Regulus slipped out of the compartment.

"So, Sirius, are you going to try out for Dorcas's place this term?" James asked. Sirius didn't answer. "Sirius?"

Sirius stopped looking at the door and turned to James. "Sorry, what? Quidditch? Yeah, 'course. What can I say? Gryffindor needs me."

The try-outs took place in the second week of term, and James attended them with a swagger, feeling very proud at having been a part of last year's team. Among the mass of hopefuls, Gideon had to select a new Keeper and Beater, and James, Frank, Adam Defoe and Graham Bell were all there to give their opinions.

"So, what do you reckon?" Graham asked Gideon as he put the balls away. Gideon locked the box and grinned at James.

"Well, Sirius is in," Gideon said.

"He was the only decent Beater out there," Defoe added.

"Who do you think for Keeper?" Frank asked.

Gideon looked rather troubled.

"Fabian was pretty good," James said.

Gideon pulled a face. "I know; he's not bad. But then, he's my brother, and he's only a second year, and he can be an annoying little twerp..."

"Yeah, but was he the best?" Graham asked. "Because if he was the best flier then it doesn't matter that he's your brother."

"I did like the look of Baites," Gideon said, frowning.

"He was steady," said James. "But that save Fabian did when Graham came in on the left was great."

"Baites saved more goals overall, though," Gideon said, doggedly. He let out a breath slowly between his teeth. "Baites was okay, but nothing compared to Meadowes. Fabian's a decentish player at the moment, and I think he'll get better. He loves Quidditch, and he was always watching us when he was little... I just don't want to give him special treatment because he's my brother,"

"What if he was just anybody. What then?"

Gideon nodded at Frank. "Well, Baites is a seventh-year, so he's going to be busy. Plus, it'd be better for the team if we don't have to change the line-up every year. But, then again. it's Baites's last year; Fabian would probably get in next year…"

"It'll be better for the team not to change. You just said," Defoe said.

Gideon sat down heavily on the ball chest. "I'm going to regret this," he said.

Gideon was to reiterate that sentiment several times over the two months preceding the first Quidditch match of the year.

"Fabian," he yelled, as his brother flew out and superbly intercepted the Quaffle from Graham, before dropping it and allowing James to intercept and throw the Quaffle through his unmarked hoops. "What in the name of Merlin was that, you little idiot?"

Fabian Prewett, a stocky boy who shared his brother's sandy hair and indomitable nature, stuck out his tongue. "You can't pick on me, Gideon," he said, "or I'll tell Mum."

Gideon swelled. "I'm not picking on you, you imbecile, but if you can't fly better than a warthog with vertigo then I'm quite entitled to…"

"I'll tell Molly," Fabian said with a triumphant grin.

Gideon stopped mid-rant. "Oh, shut up, you little toad," he snapped. "Right, let's start again. What are you laughing at?" He flew back to the middle of the pitch, Quaffle under his arm, glowering at his sniggering team-mates.

"So," Sirius said as the team took their brooms to the shed. "Who's Molly, then, Gideon?" He nudged him and winked.

Fabian burst out laughing. Gideon looked scandalised.

"She's my sister, Sirius."

"Molly Prewett?" James asked. The name was tugging at his memory.

"Well, she's Molly Weasley now."

"Yeah, but was she the Molly Prewett who won the Quidditch cup?"

Gideon and Fabian looked rather proud.

"That's right; Molly was a good Keeper, unlike some," Gideon said, glancing at Fabian.

"She was amazing," Fabian said, ignoring his brother. "And of course she passed it all on to me. Brilliance at Quidditch runs in the family."

Gideon thumped him. "Oh, shut up, you arrogant little…"

"What?" Fabian whacked his brother back. "I'm brilliant, Molly could have played for England, and, well, there must be some reason they made you captain."

"I told you he was cocky," Gideon said to the others.

James wasn't listening, however. "She could have played for England? Why doesn't she?"

There was a pause.

"She got married instead," Gideon said. He shrugged his shoulders and looked away. Fabian's expression was one of disgust; the resemblance between the brothers amplified.

"She got married?" Sirius said, his eyes wide.

James was standing by, open-mouthed. He couldn't believe it. He dreamed of playing Quidditch for England, and this Molly had got married instead. It was ridiculous.

"I know," Fabian muttered. "I told her not to, but she wouldn't listen."

"She's married, she's happy, she's just had a baby," Gideon said briskly, ushering them out of the shed and locking it with his wand.

"Oh, and I suppose you think she did the right thing," Graham Bell said, raising his eyebrows at the others.

"Well, no, Quidditch is Quidditch, but Molly's a girl. They just don't understand these things."

And with that, the Gryffindor Quidditch team made their way back to the castle, shaking their heads over the strangeness of women.

As term progressed, James became more aware of tensions in the castle. The elections were approaching, and James could just see his mother's pursed lips as he read her letters in which she did not write about his father's preoccupation at work. While most of the students knew little about the elections, some of them were loudly expressing their opinion that Muggle-borns shouldn't be allowed, that Lord Voldemort had the right idea, and that those who were against him were working towards the downfall of the wizarding world.

When James had finished hexing Snape, he turned to Sirius, Remus and Peter.

"Did you hear that? The stupid git. How can anyone agree with that Voldemort?"

"Mum says that he'd be good for the economy, but that he's too extreme," Peter said, earning himself a glare from James.

"Dad said that more people agree with him than you'd think," Remus said quietly. "Lots of pure-blood families might think they'd be better off without Muggle-borns."

"How can you say that?" James spluttered. "What about your Mum?"

"I don't think that," Remus said quickly. "Of course, I don't. It's just that…"

"Many people do," Sirius finished. "Like my parents." He frowned. "I bet everyone in Slytherin would vote for him."

"He's not going to become Minister for Magic," James stated. "It's impossible."

But then why was his Dad so worried?

James didn't dwell on it, though. He had lots more to think about. Quidditch was one. That October was wet and windy; James, Sirius and the rest of the team found themselves buffeted about the Quidditch pitch four times a week, their hands sliding from the slippery handles of their brooms. Schoolwork was another. James and Sirius had breezed through their last exams, as had Remus, who always worked extra hard to catch up. While it was only Peter who was really challenged by the work, James found himself spending more time doing homework, owing to his extra subjects: Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy.

Care of Magical Creatures was taught by Professor Kettleburn, who became Sirius's idol in a matter of days. Kettleburn's face and hands, owing to prolonged exposure to the elements and various magical creatures, were brown and leathery-looking. The only exception to this was his shiny bald head, of which he seemed rather proud. As the weather got colder, he took to wearing a thick, woolly hat, which he would take off and twirl about on his fingers, before replacing it on his head. His fingers were gnarled and knotted and, in several cases, missing. His most eye-catching physical feature was his left leg, in that he didn't have it. This was one of the main reasons for Sirius's interest in him. Instead, Professor Kettleburn had a wooden leg, which would sink into the mud on wet days, effectively pinning him to the spot, until some of his students pulled him out. His lessons were always fun.

"By the end of this term you should be well acquainted with Flobberworms," Kettleburn had said at the beginning of the first lesson. He happily surveyed his disappointed class. "Because you'll be feeding them to some very interesting creatures."

Hagrid often happened to be nearby when Kettleburn had a particularly 'interesting' specimen for them to study "in case Kettleburn needs any help with'em." On a Wednesday, they had Care of Magical Creatures before break, and James, Sirius, Remus and Peter took to having a cup (or rather a bucket) of tea with Hagrid before their next lesson. James liked Hagrid. He knew an awful lot about interesting things like dragon breeding and flesh-eating slugs.

James, Sirius and Peter also continued their Animagi studies, especially during the full moon, when Remus was away. The subject had reached a terse agreement in that they didn't speak of it. Remus didn't come with them when they went to their secret passageway; the others had continued to hide their extra-curricula studies when they were with Remus.

"There's no point," Peter complained one evening, when, after having completed the rest of his homework, he was forced by the other two to spend hours upon end trying to 'see' his animal. "Why do we bother? Remus doesn't want us to become Animagi."

But James had never given anything up in his life, and if the danger and illegality of becoming an Animagus hadn't dissuaded him, then he wasn't going to let Remus stand in his way. He and Sirius were beginning to work on Transfiguring various objects into the animals they would become. By midnight, James had managed to turn all his chess pieces into little black and white stags. He'd even managed to get different sized antlers, according to how important the piece was. Sirius, meanwhile, was working on changing every serpent that appeared on any of his possessions into a dog.

"Take that," he grunted, as the snake-shaped quill holder writhed and melted into a crude metal blob, and then stretched and rounded into something relatively canine, which wagged its tail weakly at the boys.

"And that," he snarled, and the serpent clasp of his money bag lost its shape. James, bored of chess pieces, examined the newly-fashioned clasp with interest.

"That's not a dog," he said, holding up the misshapen piece of silver.

"It ruddy well is," Sirius said, snatching it back and looking at it closely. "Well, it sort of is, anyway."

"Doesn't look like a dog, if you ask me," Peter said, peering over Sirius's shoulder.

"I didn't," Sirius said crossly, stuffing the offending article into his pocket. "Aren't you meant to be trying to find your animal?"

Peter reddened. "I think I can see it."

"Well?" Sirius said.

"It's just not very clear."

"So you can't see it."

"Are you focussing on the spells?"

Peter looked balefully at James. "Of course I am. It's just that it won't get any clearer."

"What does it look like?" Sirius asked.

Peter began to pick at the end of his robes, while his cheeks turned even pinker.

"I think…I think it's a …I think it's some sort of mouse."

"A mouse? A mouse!" Sirius began to laugh, until his torso shook with chuckles and tears leaked from his eyes. "A mouse - oh, Peter, that's priceless."

James had to admit that the idea of Peter as a mouse was rather funny, although not as hilarious as Sirius seemed to find it. He began to laugh at Sirius, who was slumped on the floor, spluttering "a mouse" at intervals. Then he saw Peter, who was also watching Sirius. Peter wasn't laughing, though; his cheeks were bright red now, as were his ears, and he was biting his lip. He found himself thinking of what Remus usually did in that sort of situation.

"Actually, it would be really good if you could turn into something like that," he said to Peter. "You'd be able to get under the Whomping Willow, then, and we wouldn't have to look for a stick each time."

It was the best advantage of becoming a mouse he could come up with of on the spur of the moment. Peter nodded, still watching the giggling Sirius.

"Actually, it would be useful to be that small," James said. "You could spy on Snape for us and get into the Slytherin Common Room without being noticed." They had the Invisibility Cloak for that, of course, but Peter seemed to have forgotten about that as he looked a bit happier and smiled at James.

"I think Sirius has had enough for tonight," James said to Peter, prodding Sirius with his shoe.

Sirius was breathing heavily now and kept shaking his head and snorting.

"Sirius, are you going to shut up? Otherwise, you'll get us caught."

Sirius calmed down somewhat, and the three of them covered themselves with the cloak and crept down the shadowy corridors and past the moonlit windows until they reached Gryffindor tower. There, James whispered the password to the Fat Lady, who swung open without properly waking up, and they snuck through the deserted common room and up into their dormitory. As they passed the dead fire, James thought he saw a glint of red as a shaft of moonlight fell on one of the armchairs, but the room was gloomy, and his mind was focused upon his bed, and he ignored it.