Whimsical {James Potter}

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The First Feast

"I miss the boats," Cressida muses, leaning against the side of the carriage. It's drawn by magic along the somewhat rocky road to the entrance of Hogwarts. The castle never changes, and the warm, fresh Autumn sky has left only a few clouds scattered around to cover the beauty of Scotland.

"I'll never forget it," Sirius agrees, leaning over her slightly to look out the carriage window. "Walking in for the first time." He laughs softly, moving further back into his seat. "All I was thinking was 'I don't care if they put me in Hufflepuff, just anything but Slytherin'."

"You say that like Hufflepuff is bad," Cressida snorts, also leaning back into her seat. "I like their common room. And it's the most chill house. Some Ravenclaws are more stuck up than the Snakes."

The grounds of Hogwarts grows closer, it's towering dark architecture a gothic beauty. A place all five of the carriage residents consider to be there home. Some more than others. The Common Room is the space that Cressida misses the most; the red lounges in front of the ever-burning fireplace, the seats underneath the window which is perfect for reading and the occasional explosion marks on the wall when a spell goes wrong. The only place Cressida can say with certainty that she doesn't miss is the herbology labs. Everything she has done in that class was wrong somehow.

That, and certain people.

It's bittersweet that they're growing closer to the end of their time there. This year would be their OWLs, then two years of NEWTs and then they'd be saying goodbye to the castle for the last time.

Dragging her eyes away from the long-awaited sight, Cressida grins at her closest companions. "So, our first job is Rabastan Lestrange," she calls, commanding their attention. "I'm thinking something that can't be directly faulted back to us. I'm trying to minimise detention this year."

Of course, when the school's infamous messers are your friends, you get dragged along. Though, dragged isn't the term Cressida would use. They hardly have to convince her to get involved. Besides, a letter to her parents isn't going to do much and they're not stupid enough to pull of anything that would get them expelled.

Sirius clicks his tongue against his teeth, stretching his arms across the top of the seat. "Our Cress is growing up, James. She doesn't even want to be caught."

"None of us wants to be caught," Remus intervenes, half-amused, half wondering if his friends do actually intend to be caught sometimes. "Besides, it's probably a smart idea that we tone it back down this year. If we do bad on our OWLs, we could ruin chances of what NEWT classes we could take."

James waves a hand in front of his face. "I have half a mind to agree with you, Remus. Besides, everyone will know it's us anyway. The teachers just won't be able to prove it." He leans forward on his seat opposite her, crooked glasses matching his unruly hair. "Any particular reason for this target?"

Huffing, Cressida leans further into the corner of the carriage chair. "Called me mudblood at the end of last year. It was on the train, so I didn't have time to do anything." The air of the carriage shifts, even the glint in James' eyes darkens. Sitting straighter, Cressida forces a blasé expression. "I don't care about it, but I don't want some of the younger students to be called that. And I don't doubt he's below calling a first year something that horrid."

"Piece of filth," Sirius mutters. "Why didn't you tell us then?"

Cressida shrugs nonchalantly. "As I said, we were on the train. I couldn't be bothered to do anything at the time."

"Still should have told us," James counters. "Could have given me all summer to think of something good." He trails off, looking out the same window she was earlier, sinking into thought.