I washed my hands at The Three Broomsticks' bathroom sink and splashed my face with water to hopefully not make it so obvious that I was just crying.
Now that I had calmed down, the whole Astarion Lancaster situation felt a little ridiculous. I mean, really, what was the worst that he could possibly do, considering he had expressed meaning to find me at my parents' shop — where other adults would be around. Maybe he really just wanted a word with me, and me worrying about it only made me feel worse. I had to think about other things.
To my surprise, when I returned to Isaiah and Elijah's table at The Three Broomsticks, Wyatt was there too now, and so was a very familiar-looking brunette: Ana. That's when it clicked. Ana was Anastasia Nye, Wyatt's older sister.
Embarrassment washed over me as I made eye contact with her. She beamed at me from afar and I gave her a sheepish smile. Just then, Wyatt perked his head up and waved at me. Ana raised her eyebrows in surprised and turned to Wyatt as if to ask if he knew me.
I approached their table, wondering why James wasn't back, but I didn't have time to dwell on that question too hard because Wyatt pestered me with his own questions.
"How do you know my sister? Since when do you know her? Why didn't you tell me?" he began when I barely took a seat at the booth.
"Alright, take it easy, Wy. I met her in the lavatory just two minutes ago," Ana said with a laugh. "I didn't even know she knew you." Then, Ana's face lit up in realization, and she pointed discreetly at Wyatt, mouthing, "Is it him—?"
I rapidly shook my head before anyone else could notice the querying look on Ana's face.
Just then, an arm linked with mine, and I looked to my left to find Tracey Davis holding me.
"Hope it's not a problem to you all, but I have to steal Maeve," she said.
"Well, duty calls." I shrugged, grabbing my coat and my bag that I had left on the booth earlier. "It was very nice to meet you, Ana."
"You too, Maeve," she said with a kind smile. And at that, I trailed off with Tracey.
"She's only leaving because James isn't here," Wyatt said when I departed. After that, I was too far away to hear the rest.
Daphne greeted us at a table near a window. Snow was covering all corners of the window but we could still see decently well outside. What was mostly students strolled mirthfully through the beautiful streets of Hogsmeade.
"Who was that?" Daphne asked, eyes widening in the direction of the S4's table.
"Anastasia. Wyatt's sister," I told her as Tracey and I shuffled into our seats.
"Salazar, she's so pretty," Daphne said in awe, still staring at the brunette from afar. Ana glanced in our direction and winked at Daphne who, flustered, threw her gaze back at us. "Right, let's order our food."
Sure enough, the enchanted notepad and quill was floating in the air next to us, waiting for our order. I glanced down at the menu for one second and ordered the first thing I saw, which were fish and chips. Tracey ordered a sausage platter with eggs and maple syrup, while Daphne ordered strawberry pancakes and a berry smoothie.
"So, our ball," Daphne said once the magic quill and notepad zoomed away.
"Right our infamous ball," Tracey said, nodding.
We stayed silent for a moment as we gathered our thoughts and ideas on how we were meant to execute this ball plan of ours.
"I just got it," Daphne said suddenly, her green eyes lighting up almost like a lightbulb had lit above her head. "We should host a masquerade ball."
"Brilliant," I said.
"I love that idea," Tracey added.
"But what should the theme be? The closest holiday is Ostara in mid-March, which is a month from now," I pointed out.
Daphne pursed her lips to the side as she pondered and Tracey looked up at the ceiling as she mulled over ideas in her head.
After a moment of thinking had gone by, Daphne said, "What about a Winter Farewell? I mean, it's not Ostara, but it's a goodbye to Winter, since Spring is right around the corner. A Winter ball."
"I like that — And we could still have another ball for Ostara, so two balls in one month!" Tracey added enthusiastically. I nodded with equal enthusiasm.
"A Masquerade Winter Farewell Ball," I affirmed.
"Okay, themes?" Tracey realized. "Ice and snow?"
"Right! And maybe the masks could be silver and white in colours," Daphne added, snapping her fingers as if that would generate more ideas.
Just then, our fresh warm plates arrived, and the delicious smell of food cut off our conversation. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until now.
As we ate, all three of us kept generating more ideas for our ball. Many ideas were too ambitious so we had to abandon them, but in the end we were still buzzing with excitement.
We later found ourselves in a costume shop near Zonko's Joke Shop. We ended up selecting a wide variety of masks for our ball and asking them to be delivered to us at Hogwarts so we wouldn't have to carry them all by ourselves.
The rest of our Hogsmeade trip went wonderfully. We had just one hour left before we were due to leave, so Daphne, Tracey, and I decided to take one last traipse outside the village.
It was simply beautiful to witness Hogsmeade village covered in a large white blanket, the sky turning pink and purple as dusk approached. We finally neared the Shrieking Shack, halting ten meters away from the dilapidated wooden fence. There was someone leaning against the fence, alone.
"Isn't that—?" Daphne began.
"James," I confirmed. He was unmoving, gazing longingly at the Shrieking Shack, as if lost in deep thought.
"Is he okay?" Tracey asked warily.
"Where are his friends?" Daphne added.
I shrugged at them both.
"Shouldn't you go talk to him?" Tracey said to me. I hesitated, my mouth hanging open silently for a split-second.
"Er—I don't know. Maybe he wants to be alone," I said.
Daphne nudged me forward as a response. I turned back and gave her a what-the-hell-was-that-for look. She responded by pointing at James and urging me with her eyes to go see him.
I paused for a moment, but ultimately nodded as I realized they were right. Maybe something was wrong with James, and I could be there for him.
The snow crunched under my boots as I approached him, but he made no indication of having heard me. His gaze remained fixed on the Shrieking Shack afar, and he appeared unbothered by the gentle snow flakes falling and then melting onto his nose and upper cheeks.
"James?" I tempted, reaching a hand over to his shoulder as I stood right next to him. Before my hand could make contact with him, he turned his face towards me.
"Blackwood," he replied, acknowledging my presence. I slowly drew my hands away. His eyes were a bit red and puffy, as if he had been crying — or perhaps, he was just very tired.
My lips parted, but no words came out. He looked at me curiously.
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, looking down between his arms leaning over the fence.
"What for?" I asked, perplexed, trying to meet his eyes, though they remained on the ground.
"For my father seeking you out — for allowing us to even have this stupid duel. I should've just confronted my dad or found another way to hide my scar from him."
James let out a heavy breath of disappointment.
"No. James, it's okay. Really," I insisted. "It was my idea, and besides, it's not like your father wants me dead, or anything,"
"But even so, I allowed this to happen. I was a coward. I was too cowardly to let my father know the truth, so I allowed an innocent friend of mine take the blame for everything. And it wasn't fair to you. And for that I apologize."
My heart sank as I took in his words. I felt guilty that he felt guilty, which made no sense, but here we were. His eyes finally met mine for a split-second before remorsefully going back down to the ground.
"I also should apologize," I confessed rather unexpectedly. "I have lied to you."
"What do you mean?"
"I just — it's just something that I do sometimes to avoid trouble, to avoid responsibility, or even accountability. And I'm sorry."
"When have you lied?" he asked, his eyebrows perking up in puzzlement as he turned his head to look at me again.
I glanced at Daphne and Tracey from afar, but I couldn't seem to find them. They'd just disappeared. Why had they left? Did they think James and I needed space?
"Aren't you going to tell me what you mean?" James urged. I shook my thoughts about Daphne and Tracey's disappearances away.
"Well... I suppose, it's more like I broke my word and then lied about it," I began, already regretting bringing it up, though I knew it was the right thing to do, that I had to come clean. "You know how I promised I wouldn't sell a potion to Wyatt ever again?"
"No..." James muttered, already piecing the story together. He looked at me with dumbfound disappointment. I tried not to cringe at myself.
"I'm sorry."
"Are you talking about when he claimed he brewed it himself, but we all thought he just stole it from you?"
"Yeah..."
"Maeve," James said disapprovingly.
"I know! I'm sorry. It was stupid of me. I shouldn't have."
"But why? What made you sell him a potion again?" James queried. There was a hint of mirth in his tone, although his eyebrows furrowed disconcertedly at me.
"I didn't exactly sell him the potion. I wanted him to dance with a girl I thought he would like, but he wouldn't even give her a chance, so I said I would give him a potion if he danced with her."
"And he did it."
"Yep."
James shook his head at me, but a smirk was tugging at his lips nonetheless. "All of that to play cupid."
"I know... It's so silly when I explain now."
"Well, at least you learned from this, haven't you?"
"Indeed, I have," I conceeded with a sigh. "I hope I didn't disappoint you too much?"
"Kind of hard to disappoint someone who didn't expect much in the first place," he said, his face turning fully solemn, all of a sudden.
"What?" I frowned.
"I'm just kidding," James said, laughing. I responded with an awkward laugh, shaking my head at him. "No, Blackwood. You didn't terribly disappoint me. I suppose, I understand you, somewhat. But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't give Wyatt a potion ever again. Frankly, you would do us all a favour."
"I promise that was my last time. Truly, I learned my lesson," I said. James nodded understandingly. I smiled to myself, realizing how pointless it was for me to have lied in the first place.
"I will have to fink on you to the rest of boys, though," James added with a gentle wave of his hand.
"I deserve that. But please don't be too hard on Wyatt," I said, accepting my fate.
"I don't suppose I can control how Isaiah and Elijah will react, but we shall see," James said with a shrug. He placed his hands in his coat pockets and looked behind us at the paths that led to Hogsmeade. "Isn't it time to return to the village right about now?"
"I'm afraid so."
James and I arrived somewhat late, so we took the last carriage together, void of anyone else's company. The sun was setting deeper into the horizon, and darkness began to cloud our surroundings as we mounted the carriage. I knew that by the time we would make it to Hogwarts, it would be pitch black outside.
"You know, those carriages are drawn by thestrals," James said as our mount began to move by itself.
"I heard as much. Can you see them?" I asked without thinking and then hoping he wouldn't say—
"I can."
"Oh."
"It was my grandfather," James said. I was relieved to hear it wasn't his mother he saw pass away. "He was rather sick, and I was rather young when I saw it happen."
"Must've been hard to see that. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," James reassured me, shaking his head. "To tell you the truth, I didn't even realize he was dying at the time, I rather thought he was falling into a deep slumber."
"Well, I suppose death is, in a way, a deep slumber," I agreed, which made him chuckle.
"Oh yes, the inevitable deep slumber," James said, rather amused. He then looked at me intently. "Do you often think about death, Maeve?"
I paused, pondering. He waited patiently for my answer.
"I suppose not," I said thoughtfully, though I was rather taken aback by his abrupt question.
The corners of his lips curved upwards as he peeked outside the carriage window. It was snowing quite abundantly. Much more than it did when we were parading around the village.
"It's hard to believe that spring is on its way," James remarked before turning his head back to me.
"Welcome to Scotland, I suppose," I said with a shrug. James nodded in fervent agreement.
"Indeed."
"You know, James," I said suddenly, surprising even myself. He perked his head up in interest. "About your father..."
James tensed up, his shoulders ever so slightly more stiff, and his lips bunching into one corner as he eyed me intently.
"Do you think he really believed me when I said I was Amirah Flowers and not, well, me?"
James snickered, though kindly. "I think he's planning on finding out by simply visiting your parents' shop, this summer."
"Merlin..."
"Is it not a place you can avoid?" James asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
"Not particularly, no," I said with a grumpy exhale. "My parents love to get me involved. My dad thinks I'll take over the shop when I'm older."
"And is that something you want? To take over the shop, I mean?" James asked, sounding genuinely curious. I liked that he was asking me such interesting questions.
I gave him a pensive expression before answering, "I don't know. Maybe."
"But you like brewing potions, don't you?"
"I do. I really do. But I feel like the expectation of living up to a certain legacy is a lot of pressure for me," I said, thinking out loud. "When I envision my future with brewing, I have my own shop with my own rules and my own ideas. No one expects anything from me."
"I understand exactly what you mean," James said, his face lighting up. "My father expects me to take over all of his shops, to manage all of them, but I'm not sure that it's something that I want. And I'm an only child, so I doubt that I could ever really escape that responsibility."
"Well, you can always sell the properties once their ownships have been transferred to you," I offered.
"And so can you," James returned.
"I sense that selling a family business is a lot more of an emotionally difficult decision than selling chains of businesses," I countered.
James lifted his hands in surrender. "Perhaps. But I doubt my old man would allow himself to pass away before he sees me establish my legacy, as he says."
The carriage began slowing its pace. James and I both peered outside the window to see that we had, of course, arrived. Hogswarts loomed high in the short distance, the moon shining through the misty clouds around it.
"Come to think of it," I said, suddenly remembering something. "Isn't it a full moon tonight?"
James offered a vague "hmm?" as a response as we exited the carriage.
"Don't you remember that Hufflepuff boy? His monthly excursions to the Black Lake? It's like he's a water werewolf."
"Oh, right. The night I broke your back."
I stifled a laughter. "That's how you remember that night? Quite the morbid mind you've got there, James."
"Indeed. They call me James Morbid Lancaster," he said nonchalantly. I giggled.
We were now reaching the front doors of Hogwarts with everyone else. Home, at last. It was nice too as we were met with a surge of warmth when we entered the cozy castle.
"So lovely to be back," I said.
Everyone was going into the Great Hall as it was time for supper. I wasn't sure how hungry I was after eating sweets and snacks with Travey and Daphne all day, but I followed James and everyone else inside anyway.
"There they are," James noted as we neared the Slytherin table. The other S4 were huddled together, seemingly whispering until they noticed us arrive.
"There you are," Elijah said as James settled next to him. I waved hello at everyone before sitting next to James.
"What?" James said innocently.
"You totally abandoned us earlier," Wyatt said. "And you missed my sister."
"Oh, your sister was there?" James said, uninterested. "When are we eating? I'm starving."
"Of course you're hungry. You skipped a meal earlier today," Isaiah interjected.
"I wasn't hungry earlier, but now I am," James said with a guiltless shrug.
"Oh pish posh, we all know you got upset and left because of your father—" Wyatt halted his words when he saw James' cold eyes land on him.
Conveniently for James, the food materialized in front of all of us, indicating that it was time to eat. He served himself some food rather quickly and ate rather quietly for the rest of the meal. His friends didn't risk pestering James about how he must be feeling after his unfortunate encounter with his very lovely and kind-hearted father (that was sarcasm, if you couldn't tell).
Instead, everyone spoke about the things they did at Hogsmeade, about their upcoming classes, and the murderer on the loose, of course. No one in this school ever got bored with talking about Sirius Black, apparently.
When our meal was over, James went back to his usual fun self, decidedly happier now that he had ingested a delicious full meal. Perhaps that was all he needed to uplift his mood, although, I wouldn't have said his mood was low when we were having that pleasant conversation in the carriage earlier. Maybe speaking about his father with his friends induced an unfavorable amount of stress in James.
All I knew was that I didn't want to add more anxiety to his life — which was hard to believe I wasn't doing due to my getting involved with his scar situation and all. But, really, who knew what was going on inside James Lancaster's head? Maybe one day I would find out.