Chapter Text
It’d taken James about two weeks to finally decide that something was off about Sirius after all. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for communication between them to be cut off for a time during the holidays – Mrs Black especially always seemed vaguely upset at Padfoot for some reason or the other. And yet, it’d never taken his best mate that long to figure out a way around the locks on the Black’s owlery.
Moony and Wormtail didn’t receive anything either, they told him when they met at Diagon Alley for ice cream, an invitation that James’s parents took some care to not mention to him had been entirely disregarded by the Blacks. But Uncle Flea was loose-lipped when he got one too many brandies on him, and Aunt Effie didn’t care all that much about James finding out.
“The boy would know sooner or later, Dorea,” she told Mum. “Besides, this whole thing will soon cool out. The Blacks can’t keep their son at home forever, and from what I’ve heard, Sirius Black is not one to allow himself to be locked away.”
And that was that.
James kept sending letters to Sirius, of course, and tentatively tried to entertain himself with Remus and Peter at his house, but it wasn’t the same without Sirius. Remus was nice, sure, but he wasn’t much of a fun companion, and Peter was too much of a yes-man to come up with interesting activities.
Man, he missed Padfoot. If there was anyone that truly understood James, it was him for sure.
Playing Quidditch wasn’t even fun anymore without him to make two even teams. Nearly knocking Peter off his broom with a too-fast manoeuvre right by his flank didn’t have the same kick to it without someone else to flank the other side. Not even sending letters to Evans in hopes of scoring a date had the same enthusiasm put into it.
At least there was Hogwarts, James thought to himself. If nothing else, he had Hogwarts to look up to. To find his best mate again.
If not for that, he wouldn’t know what to do.