The Marauders: Year Five #Wattys2017

The Shots

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.