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The Shots


James woke up with a start, though he couldn’t recall what he’d been dreaming that had caused it. He lay on the top bunk of a bunk bed in the tent, staring up at the ceiling of it, where Remus had stuck a bunch of glow-in-the-dark stars last summer during his and Sirius’s months camping. James coached himself through breathing until his heart had slowed, but knew it would be hopeless trying to go back to sleep, so he sat up and let his feet hang over the edge of the bed. He jumped down lithely and paused, crouching on the oriental rug that covered the floor to be sure he hadn’t woken Peter, who snored on, the journal and the spello-taped on photo poking out from beneath his pillow, his chubby fingers gripping the edge of it as he snoozed. James smiled at his sleeping form, then snuck away, inching toward the door, careful not to run into anything.

He pulled his jacket over his shoulders as he stepped outside, zipping it up, too. It was brisk and a very light mist fell across the valley below them, the tent protected by the trees. He stood at the crest of the hill, the place where Sirius had stood the night before with his sticks-for-antlers, and breathed deeply. Sirius was right - the woods did smell a bit like heaven. Or perhaps more like freedom.

James changed into his stag form and decided to take a stroll as the sun was coming up, peeking over the edge of the trees. He stumbled a bit on the hill, but it was worth it when he was wading through the cool, knee-high grasses below, nibbling here and there on especially green strands, enjoying the dew and mist that clung to the leaves, as he looked about. It was a beautiful valley. He wondered if Dumbledore had ever wandered through the woods as a child and seen this place - it wasn’t so far from the old Dumbledore house, he was willing to bet that the headmaster would know exactly the valley, should James ever describe it ot him. He bent to eat a few thistles growing among the grasses.

Suddenly, there was a sound and he brought his head up erect, looking around, ear twitching, tail flicking…

A gunshot rang across the field and James let out a sound that he didn’t even know his stag could make as he rushed across the field, as quickly as his legs could carry him…

A second gunshot echoed off the hill… birds flew up out of the grasses all around him and James looked about trying to figure out what direction the shots were coming from, realizing that running up the hill to the camp would only make him an easier target, depending where the hunter that was shooting at him was at, and there was a rock in the field, blocked by the tall grass, and it caught James’s knee and he tripped.

A third gun shot rang out.




“What in the name of Merlin’s bleedin’ left tit is that?!” Sirius shouted, sitting up so fast that he nearly knocked Remus out of the bed, looking around frantically.

Peter and Remus had both woken up, too. “Sounded like a gun,” Peter said. “And… and screaming. Like a baby screaming.” He trembled with the words.

Remus rubbed his eyes. “Where’s Prongs?”

Sirius looked up at the top bunk.

That was when the second gun shot echoed through the trees.

Remus looked wild-eyed at Sirius and Peter. “He must’ve gone outside.”

“I didn’t hear him go,” Peter said, “It seems like I should’ve heard him go, he had to have climbed over me, right?”

“Well he went somewhere, he isn’t here,” Sirius pointed out.

The third gunshot. More screaming baby sounds. Cawing birds.

Sirius said, “I’m going to go see what in the name of fuck that is, and find James while I’m at it...” He rolled out of bed, and kicked his feet into his boots, which were untied, dressed only in his undershorts. He grabbed his leather jacket and swung it over his shoulders.

Remus stared at the ensemble as Sirius slid a rubber band in his hair to hold it back from his face and headed out the door. “Is it wrong I’m totally turned on by the way he looked just now?” he asked.

Peter said, “A little, yes...”

Sirius was already out the door and didn’t hear them. He looked around. The sun was up, slowly chasing away the grey fog and mist, which was turning more to rain as the rays warmed the world… He walked quickly toward the crest of the hill, clutching his wand in his fist, squinting over the valley.

The shrieking sound filled the air again and he looked down, his eyes casting along the hill. Then he spotted the antlers of the stag, about halfway down the hill and he ran down the hill. He could see two hunters running across the field from the other side, having emerged from the trees there and he aimed his wand, “STUPEFY!” he shouted, and one of the two hunters fell to the ground, the other looking stunned at the sparks that had come from his wand.

“What in the hell --” the other started to say, but Sirius’s wand was raised once again, “STUPEFY!” he shouted again, and the second hunter joined the first on the ground.

The shrieking emitted again, and Sirius found that the sound was coming from the stag, Sirius realized, and he felt a panic rise up in his throat. What the hell sort of pain must James be in to be making such a horrible sound as that? he wondered and he slid the rest of the way down the hill as fast as he could.

“Prongs!” he said, skidding to a stop beside the stag, “I’ve stupefied them. Are you alright? They didn’t get you, did they? I’ll fucking kill’em...”

James shuddered back to his own form, the antlers seeming to melt away as he changed, he rolled over, “I’m alright… I’m okay,” he said, panting, looking up at Sirius. “I tripped… I didn’t dare move… I just… the shots… They scared the bloody hell out of me.” He sat up, still shaking.

Sirius knelt down, looking him over, “You’re sure? You’re not hurt? You haven’t got any bullet holes through you?”

“No holes, no.”

“You don’t look like swiss cheese?”

“No,” James replied, “No swiss cheese.”

“Okay.” Sirius paused. Then, he punched James fairly hard in the arm.

“OW!” James shouted, “What the hell?!”

“DON’T YOU EVER MAKE THAT RUDDY SOUND AGAIN! YOU SOUNDED LIKE YOU WERE BLOODY DYING! IF -- YOU -- EVER -- FUCKING -- DO THAT -- TO ME -- AGAIN -- I SWEAR -- TO MERLIN”S HOLY BEARD -- I -- WILL -- KILL -- YOU -- AND HANG YOUR -- BLOODY HEAD -- ON A PLAQUE IN MY LIVING ROOM!”

Every word was punctuated by another punch on the arm and James slapped at Sirius’s fists, trying to stop him punching him, “Stop that!” he yelled, “I’ll be bruised! This is abuse!”

Sirius stopped and he stared at James long and hard. “Seriously. Don’t you ever do that again.”

“Sorry, I was panicked,” James said, “Bloody hell.”

Sirius sighed. He glanced down the hill at the two muggle hunters laying in the grass. “C’mon, let’s get back to the camp before those blokes wake up; we don’t need them following us along.” Sirius sprang up and helped James to his feet.

James might not’ve had holes through him from bullets, but James did have a skinned knee from the rock and his jeans were ripped, which was the first thing that Remus noticed when they crested the hill. Remus was just getting a fire going, crouching beside the cinders they’d left the night before with a pile of sticks and parchment. “Incendio,” he said, looking up as he heard the boys approaching. “What happened to you?” he asked James, concerned.

“Fell on a rock while getting shot at by a couple muggle hunters,” James answered. “And then got used as this one’s personal punching back,” he added, thumbing at Sirius.

“They shot at you?” Remus looked horrified.

“Well, I mean, I was a stag, so…”

Remus only looked slightly mollified. “C’mere, I’ll fix that knee and your jeans,” Remus said and James stumbled over and sat down. “Episky,” Remus said, tapping James’s kneecap and the skin closed, covering the exposed muscle and returning the blood where it belonged. “Reparo,” Remus said, and the jeans stitched themselves back together. “There we are. All better.” Remus smiled up at James.

“Thank Merlin, mum would’ve killed me if I ruined these jeans, she’s just gotten them. She hates going to buy muggle clothes, too…” James murmured.

Sirius was standing on the crest of the hill, watching discreetly as the hunters in the valley below got up and regathered their wits, clearly wondering where the stag they thought they’d shot had gone before wandering back toward the woods on the far side. “Yeah, that’s right, go the bloody hell home, you Prongs shooting bastards,” he muttered.

“What? Someone shot Prongs?” Peter had just come out of the tent to hear Sirius’s words. He sounded panicked.

“No mate, I’m alright,” James said.

Peter looked very relieved.

Sirius turned ‘round and came over and sat down, still wearing only his shorts, leather jacket, and boots, and stuck his wand up through his hair to hold it as he watched Remus stoke the morning fire. Peter got more frankfurters from his bag and James sat rubbing his knees… Suddenly Sirius started laughing -- quite hard.

The other three looked ‘round at him as though he’d gone mad.

“What in hell is so funny?” James asked.

“That fucking noise you made mate,” Sirius snorted, laughing so hard he was wheezing and tears were leaking from his eyes, “You sounded like a ruddy balloon getting the air let out.”

The other two laughed as James sprang at Sirius, and they both tumbled into the dirt.