CVIII. Sirius Black's Biggest Mistake

                                    

                                          
Chapter Notes: all italicized dialogue is being spoken in French
CW: gore
                          
James Potter reached the dorm room as soon as Sirius (who had skived off his detention in favor of surprising Remus in the shack) had finished packing his bag. He was beyond excited to tell Sirius about how Lily Evans, the Lily Evans that James had been pining after since their first year, had been civil with James for the entire party. No snide remarks, no "bugger off, Potter", nothing! She had agreed to go with him and not even showed an ounce of regret! 
                          
Though, he never would get the chance to tell Sirius Black this. 
                          
James looked at Sirius when he entered, noticing the bag that he was slinging over his shoulder and wearing the thick jumper that James knew belonged to Remus. "Where are you off to, Pads?" James questioned, pulling at the tie around his neck to loosen it. 
                          
"The Shack. Fuck detention, I can make it up another time. Moony is more important." 
                          
James smiled a bit, draping his tie neatly over the footboard of his bed. "Well, give me a minute. I'll come with you," he paused in the removal of his sweater vest, his glasses being knocked askew. "How are we gonna get in?" 
                          
"Padfoot can push it open obviously," Sirius rolled his eyes as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 
                          
James let out a breathy laugh and took the extra time necessary to fold his sweater vest. "And, how do you expect to get the bag in?" He was changing his shoes. 
                          
Sirius thought this question over for a moment before finally realizing that James had a point. "You're right. Fuck the bag." He tossed the bag onto his bed, the contents spilling out and spreading themselves along the maroon-adorned mattress. 
                          
The last thing that James did was take the time to begin unbuttoning his oxford so that he could change into a jumper. Suddenly, Sirius started laughing lowly. James looked at him with a questioning look in his eye and a cocked eyebrow. "What's so funny?" 
                          
"Wonder if we'll see Snivellus," Sirius replied. 
                          
James's brows knit together in confusion and he paused in the unbuttoning of his shirt, only half of them undone. "Why would we see him?" 
                          
Sirius's smile widened a bit. "Well, I may or may not have discovered that he can read minds - he's a Legilimens - and shoved thoughts about the whomping willow into my head so that he would see." The humor on his face wasn't lessening, but James was certainly much more serious now. 
                          
"You what?" He asked, his voice low and full of panic. "You're joking, right?" 
                          
"Oh c'mon, haven't you learned now, Prongs? I'm always Sirius!" The smirk was still there, but there was no trace of any positive emotion on James Potter's face. "Oh, relax! He's just gonna get beat up by the tree a bit." Sirius rolled his eyes. 
                          
"Sirius," James began, slowly backing towards the door, "you told Severus Snape about the tunnel?" 
                          
"I didn't tell him, I just thought about it! Really, he made the discovery himself." 
                          
"You told him," James continued through Sirius's protests that he didn't actually tell him verbally, "how to get to the Shrieking Shack? The Shrieking Shack - might I remind you - that is currently housing a fully transformed werewolf?" 
                          
Sirius suddenly caught onto the panic, and all of his humor was gone in a matter of seconds. "I - I didn't think about that," he said quietly, dread creeping up his spine. 
                          
"Yeah, you're right Sirius, you didn't think. Bloody hell!" James turned around and hastened out of the dormitory, running as fast as his long legs could carry him.