Sirius Black stood alone by the window of Gryffindor Tower, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the cold crystal vial in his pocket.
The night wind poured in through the half-open window, ruffling his black hair, but he barely noticed. All his attention was fixed on the potion, the Love Potion, that could change everything.
"Take it... whether you use it is up to you... remember: this is to help him..."
Severus Snape's voice, low and devilish, still echoed in his ears.
Sirius quietly shut the window. He should have smashed that vial right into Snape's hooked nose on the spot. But, Snape held a weapon far too deadly.
The illegal Animagus. That secret alone was enough to get all three of them expelled, maybe even dragged before the Ministry of Magic.
"Daydreaming again?" came Remus Lupin's gentle voice from behind, breaking his thoughts.
Sirius didn't turn. In the blurred reflection of the glass, he could see Lupin standing there, arms full of books.
"Where's James?" Sirius asked. "His detention work should've been finished by now."
Lupin sighed, set the books down on the nearest table with a dull thud.
"After he finished Filch's task, he went to find Evans. Slughorn's Slug Club is having an event tonight, you know." He hesitated, frowning slightly. "Though I doubt he actually got an invitation."
"Doesn't he realize she hates him?" Sirius turned, his voice sharp with frustration. "Ever since that Dueling Club-"
"Shh!" Lupin quickly looked around, though only a few younger students were in the common room, playing Wizard Chess in the corner, their attention completely absorbed by their battling pieces.
"Don't talk about that here," he warned in a low voice. The fine lines at the corners of his eyes made him look older than he really was.
Sirius ran a hand through his hair in agitation, feeling a fire burn inside his chest.
The troubles lately seemed endless. The carefree days of their youth were slipping away.
His best friend, his brother in all but blood, James Potter, had suffered an unprecedented blow in his pursuit of Lily Evans, and it was all because of that damned greasy git.
Memories surged like a tide.
Last summer, after James had hung that sullen Slytherin upside down from a tree, and that fool had called Lily a "Mudblood," James had cheerfully declared that he no longer had to worry about Lily's friendship with the Snivelling Slytherin.
"She might say I'm arrogant, show-offy, maybe even sickening," James had said with a grin, his black hair sticking up in every direction, his glasses crooked on his nose, looking like he'd just gotten off his broom. "But at least I don't call her a Mudblood."
"So, lads, I reckon I've actually got a real shot now! And-" he'd lowered his voice mysteriously, "I've got this feeling Evans is secretly into me. She just hides it really well."
At the time, Sirius had completely agreed. After all, who could resist someone like James Potter? A Quidditch star Chaser, vaults full of Galleons, heir to an old pure-blood family, the golden boy of Gryffindor, what girl wouldn't fall for him?
Even Sirius sometimes found himself caught up in James's natural charm, that effortless confidence, that grin that could brighten even the gloomiest day.
According to James's reasoning, Lily becoming Head Girl in their seventh year was practically guaranteed, so he'd best aim to be Head Boy. That way, they'd have countless opportunities to meet, officially, and unavoidably.
"Girls aren't all that," Sirius had said to him back then, shrugging, not understanding James's obsession. "Hanging out with them is nowhere near as fun as just us having a laugh..."
Now, watching those first-years' chess pieces smashing each other to bits, Sirius thought bitterly, how had things come to this?
Back then, he'd thought Evans wasn't anything particularly special, though admittedly better than most girls.
Since his best mate liked her, maybe someday he could learn to accept her too. Maybe they'd even all have meals together, like a family, like those summers at the Potters' house.
But those good times, past and future, had all come to an abrupt end.
After that incident, Snape had changed, beyond recognition.
He was no longer that sullen, greasy, unwashed Slytherin freak.
Instead, he'd cut his hair short, made new friends, distanced himself from those extremist pure-blood fanatics Lily hated, became Head Boy, and, most shockingly of all, he actually started washing his hair.
Sirius remembered that after the Dueling Club, when Snape had leaned close to speak to him, he'd caught a whiff of something oddly fresh. It wasn't any wizarding shampoo he recognized, nor the kind used in the Potter household.
A strange thought had crossed his mind, did that greasy git actually use Muggle products?
Still, Sirius admitted there was one thing about Snape that hadn't changed, his hatred for James.
He remembered one night last term: James had crept out of bed, half-smirking the way he always did when plotting mischief, clutching the Marauder's Map and the Potters' Invisibility Cloak.
Sirius, half-asleep, had barely noticed him leave. But before dawn, the sounds woke him, James, sitting on the edge of his bed, covered in dirt, face dark with fury, one lens of his glasses cracked.
"What happened?" Sirius had mumbled, climbing groggily from his bed.
James just shook his head, saying nothing.
Sirius had never seen him like that. James, ever-cheerful James, who could always find something to laugh about.
Worried, Sirius had stepped closer, trying to check for injuries, but James flinched away before he could touch his shoulder.
Aside from the grime, he seemed unhurt.
Their noise woke Remus and Peter, who gathered round, concerned.
"Don't meddle!" James suddenly shouted, his voice breaking with anger.
Then, just as suddenly, he collapsed onto his bed, face in his hands.
"Sorry," he said hoarsely. "I lost the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak."
"What?" Peter gasped, his small eyes wide with shock.
"How did you lose them?" Sirius pressed, heart pounding. The cloak was a Potter heirloom, James's most prized possession.
"Lost is lost!" James groaned, clutching his head. "Something happened, just drop it."
The three exchanged glances and wisely said nothing more.
"It's all right," Remus said softly. "The Map's gone, so what."
"Yeah," Sirius added, deliberately avoiding mention of the cloak. "We still remember all the secret passages anyway."
He knew James must feel far worse than any of them. How would he even explain this to Mr. and Mrs. Potter?
Losing the Marauder's Map was tragic, sure, but compared to the joy James had brought into his life, it was nothing. So long as James was safe, they could still be happy like before.
Even if they could never recreate that miraculous parchment again, it didn't matter. Its creation had been a miracle to begin with.
When they'd tried to map out Hogwarts's layout and add personalized enchantments, the castle itself had seemed to awaken. A crushing magical pressure filled the air, thick and heavy. When it lifted, countless tiny moving dots appeared on the parchment, marking every person's name and location.
The four of them had stared in awe. After much discussion, they'd guessed they'd somehow triggered a magical interface built into the ancient castle, perhaps something laid down by the Founders themselves. By pure accident, they'd activated its key.
But losing the Map was only the beginning. Misfortune rarely comes alone. Fate had other plans.
During the next Dueling Club competition, though Sirius hated to admit it, James's dueling skills were utterly outmatched by Snape. Every spell was countered with precision, every strike easily deflected.
Snape crushed him completely, humiliating him before nearly the entire school, including Lily Evans. Sirius had seen the light die in his friend's eyes in that moment.
To avenge him, Sirius had challenged Snape himself. But Snape had merely leaned close and whispered their secret, just loud enough for him to hear.
In that instant, Sirius understood where the Map had gone. And what had happened to James that night.
He hadn't told Moony or Wormtail. He couldn't bear to make James feel guilt on top of everything else, even though his friends would never blame him.
That duel had broken James. He'd even skipped Quidditch matches afterward, unthinkable for someone like him. Gryffindor had been forced to find a substitute and ended up losing to Ravenclaw.
Sirius had watched helplessly as his friend sank deeper into despair, unable to find a way to help, trying instead to distract him with memories of happier times.
Then Snape had come to him, offering that crystal vial.
Luckily, James had begun to recover, though quieter than before.
They still sneaked out at night, still planned pranks. James's smile wasn't as bright, but there was still fun to be had, at least enough to keep him going.
Things would be better without Evans, Sirius thought.
"For things that are impossible, it's fine to give up," Remus had said once to James, and repeated again now, pulling Sirius back to the present.
He blinked, realizing he'd been staring blankly into the empty fireplace. Remus was sitting opposite him, face lined with concern.
"Still no luck talking sense into him?" Sirius asked bitterly.
"You know James," Remus said, shaking his head, fingers tapping the armrest. "Once he's made up his mind..."
Sirius clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. He thought of the vial in his pocket. Of Snape's whisper.
"Whether you use it is up to you... remember, this is to help him..."
To help him... Would it really help?
He closed his eyes. James's grin, James's triumphant laughter on the Quidditch pitch, James's voice that night after Sirius had run away from home, 'You're a Potter now, brother.'
"I'm going to bed," Sirius said abruptly, standing.
Remus looked as if he wanted to say something but only nodded.
Back in the dormitory, Sirius dug out a small tin box from the bottom of his trunk.
Inside were several photographs, one of him and James at twelve, standing in the Potters' garden, grinning wildly, each holding a brand-new broom.
Another showed him with the Blacks, Uncle Alphard, Cousin Andromeda, and Regulus all together.
His time with James had been the warmest of his life. Nothing at 12 Grimmauld Place had ever given him smiles like that.
He remembered his mother's shrieking Howler when she learned he'd been Sorted into Gryffindor, remembered the cold silence when Andromeda and Uncle Alphard were disowned.
But at the Potters' house, there was always a place for him at the table, and Mrs. Potter always baked an extra lemon tart just for him.
"For James," he whispered, tracing the smiling face in the photograph. If it could bring back that light in James's eyes, then what did the rest matter?
After all, Snape was right, this was to help him...
He didn't know how much time had passed when the creak of the dormitory door woke him.
In the moonlight, he saw James stumble in, exhausted, collapsing onto his bed without even removing his shoes.
Outside, the tree shadows clawed at the moonlight. Sirius thought of that full-moon night in their fifth year, when the three of them had completed their Animagus transformations for Remus.
James had been the first to sprout antlers, prancing around the dorm with glee while Peter laughed so hard he fell off the bed.
"Sirius, look! I did it before you did!" James's eyes had sparkled then.
Now, all those stars had gone out.
When James's breathing finally evened, Sirius pulled the crystal vial from beneath his pillow, staring silently at it.
"This is to help him..." he murmured. The clear potion shimmered faintly in the bottle.