I'm not satisfied with this chapter. I had it planned for a while but there's something that still doesn't fit right. However, while it's almost a filler, this chapter's got a lot of hints for the next book and gives us an idea that while James is odd to our main characters, he's not everything as he seems.

Again, I'm sorry. Enjoy.

James knew he was a bastard. Both in the literal and not so literal meaning.

Stepping into Hogwarts was just as he thought it would be, a mix of excitement and bitter resentment. Watching the Giant Squid swim beside their vessel,The Samodiva, through one of the windows brought memories of his Uncle, who told him many tales of the castle when he was a boy. James vividly remembered clutching his pillow at the mere thought of meeting such a creature: now that he was older - and more cynic - he figured out that most of creatures were friendly if not provoked.

The same reasoning could be applied to the enigma Anya Barton represented. She was noting like he expected her to be. For starters, he'd thought she'd be prettier (just like her mother, an heir of the Noble and most Ancient House of Black), smarter (Alec Barton, her father, had been a renowned inventor and a genius), gentler (Anya hit like a bulldog, there was no doubt, and had a mouth that nearly reached the sailor limit), and most importantly of all, naïve.

The last one no one would blame him for thinking it. He had read the papers, depicting her as the saddest tragedy ever - he should've known better for believing Rita Skeeter - and all the times her name was written after Harry Potter's, along with Granger's and Weasley's. It usually involved high-risking their lives so by now, he figured all of them had that sense of responsibility that Gryffindors were known to have.

But Anya Barton was not an innocent girl. He hadn't known her identity back at the woods and even then, James could tell she'd gone through some shitty things. He didn't have to ask much around: besides being cunning, the Slytherin House was known to be keen when it came to gossip. A few questions about the 'Golden Quartet' gave him all the answers he needed.

From what he'd gathered, Harry Potter was the leader of their little group; Ron Weasley, the first to befriend him, was the brawn and comic relief; Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age, was the glue, a support that united all of them. It was Anya the one who didn't fit: she kept many things close to her heart and at the same time told them everything they didn't want to hear. Somehow, she connected them to reality.

Anya was not as gorgeous as the Greengrass sisters, with their pale skin and translucent, gray eyes. She was not blond and she was not graceful. The girl was the opposite, with brown hair and hazel eyes. And that smile of hers, so wicked and promising and natural: it was either a downfall or the closest thing to Nirvana. Her laugh was also genuine and loud, which James found out appealed to most of the current male population in Hogwarts.

Anya was not as smart as her father before her but she was sharp when the dots needed to be connected. Dealing with her on a daily basis taught James she was a tough cookie (the bruise on his shoulder was still a vividly green shade); not easy to crack but already sporting a lot of fissures invisible to the normal eye. In short, she reminded him of a snake - alluring and dangerous at the same time.

If the rumors were true (most of them were at this point), she had dealt with the Dark Lord twice and been under his mind control too. With that in mind, he knew there was a high possibility she learnt things no child should've. That trail of thought often led him to wonder how exactly did she manage to stay sane

Anya Barton was no Harry Potter. For starters, she didn't have the urge to jump into the fire for everyone nor the expectations of an entire community resting upon her shoulders.

All this said, James had the right to make his own conclusions. A lifetime of hearing about the allusive Anya Barton proved it, and not to mention, it made the thing more interesting.

Not to brag or anything, but his path was practically laid out for him since he was a boy. James didn't have to wish, he knew, that sooner or later, their first meeting was bound to happen. His determination only fueled fate's plans.

It was not difficult for him to arrange another 'coincidental' meeting with Anya. His Uncle wasn't around this time to stop him and the man who was supposedly looking after him could care less of what he did with his time - but James suspected the man actually had helped him a few times along the way, such as his infiltration with his fellow Durmstrang seniors. Blackmailing Igor Karkaroff was more fun than it should've been, especially when his Headmaster was mostly paranoid these days what with the Death Eaters appearing in public - he'd honestly thought the man would hex his ass.

Years of resentment made James test her in very simple ways. He did ridiculous things, like acting like a loony and the most memorable one was when he tried to tap into his magic and successfully burned a copy of the Daily Prophet, but no matter what he did, she met each challenge head on, never once faltering. It irked him to see the similarities between them - Anya was as stubborn as himself, if not probably more. The situation went officially out of his control when he slowly began to respect her. More than a half of a year had passed, and now it didn't bother him to admit he liked her.

While he tested her, James had to infiltrate her circle of friends. It was a bit of a surprise to discover how closed-minded they were, especially with all the situations they had thrown themselves at. James understood they wouldn't trust a stranger, but at this point his tongue ached from all the times he kept biting it to prevent himself from calling them on it.

He liked Neville though. The tall and roundish boy was very friendly, which compensated his clumsiness. He was also quiet and kept his personal matters close to his chest, something James could relate to. Without feeling any guilt, James could proudly say Neville Longbottom was the first person he befriended without ulterior motives - Merlin knew how many enemies he had instead of friends.

The rest was liabilities to him. Close behind Neville, Hermione Granger had been one of Anya's first friends. The girl could probably predict her moods or thoughts, more so with her having an IQ of 172 (yes, he had it checked). Ron Weasley was a strategist, but when it came to battling his own demons, he made poor choices - like instance, picking a fight over simple things.

As for Potter himself, well... it was sort of amusing.

James knew everything there was about Harry James Potter. Born in Godric's Hollow, the 31st of July, 1980. After the death of James and Lily Potter, he was sent off to his mother's sister, Petunia Dursley nee Evans. A prodigy at Quidditch and at spells - James wouldn't be surprised if he ended up being a professional Quidditch player or an Auror. Sadly, the boy-who-lived wasn't very smart.

The bouts of jealousy Potter displayed were only half justified. James understood that he wouldn't trust anyone beside his three loyal friends but the glares he sometimes threw on his way were ridiculous. (If he was truthful, James had a lot of fun riling him up with not doing anything but be himself) The begrudging tolerance Potter showed was remarkable though; not once did he say anything against him nor did he make Anya doubt their strange friendship. Whether it was because he didn't think he had a right or because of her, James didn't know.

Everything was going smoothly. Almost perfect.

Except for that loose thread of annoyance.

Marie Harlaown was the devil incarnated. That, or she was one of those Revenant creatures that followed only one purpose, and this time, it meant causing him a lot of trouble. His first and biggest mistake was to underestimate her. He should've known better than let his own arrogance led him to a false sense of security. But he couldn't help it - the girl followed Anya like a lost puppy and was friends with the Creevey brothers. That alone told him she wasn't something to fear.

(How wrong he was, his mother would be thoroughly ashamed of him for underestimating a woman. Hadn't she once faced Voldemort herself and gotten out of it alive?)

But she knew. She could tell what his intentions were. In every single test, she always looked at him with barely concealed suspicion. She didn't even deny to Anya her dislike for him but didn't say why.

And then it happened.

The day he asked Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball was a blurry mess. He had been on the lake's shores, waiting for Viktor to come back. He was on a hurry - James kept looking over the sky, watching as the sunset slowly began, his irritation growing. He hadn't waited. And when he was close to the castle, he never saw the blow coming.

Drugged. He'd been drugged. It was Neville who found him crawling in the courtyard, mumbling incoherences and only answering to him in slurs. Neville had helped him get inside the Great Hall in time, his speech almost sounding good enough. Despite his horrible state, Ginny said yes.

He knew from the start who it had been.

He found her in the seventh floor, walking around aimlessly. Light-headed as he was, James was still able to throw a hex at her wandlessly. She barely ducked and it hit the pillar next to the closest window, taking down a large chunk of concrete. Blinking, she turned to look at him.

"What do you think you are playing at?" he had all but growled. She took her time to answer him, wiping off the dust from her shoulders while looking at him blankly. Merlin, he wished he could hex her a bit more to get a reaction out of her but he knew it would thwart his plans.

From the tiny smirk that curled on her lips, he could tell she knew it too.

"Should I know what are you talking about?"

The mockery in her tone set him off. James stormed over her but swaggered in the process. The drug was still working on his system.

"Professor Snape is a very brilliant tutor," Marie said, all pretence forgotten. "When he is not acting like a prick, of course."

James blinked, feeling suddenly drowsy. "What have you done to me?"

"It's a mild sedative. It will only last for three more hours."

He gave a hoarse chuckle. "Brilliant - bloody brilliant." The girl was only eleven years old and she could already tell how drugs worked. He shouldn't be surprised, her ancestors from her mother's family were part of a yakuza group.

She smiled shyly at the praise. "I did tell you to stay away from her."

He laughed loudly. It was bitter and barely human-like.

"What - you didn't like my little prank? The look on her face was so funny though..."

"Shut up!" Marie ordered. His mouth instantly shut closed. James looked at her, shocked, but his eyes stayed on her all the time. She was staring at him in disgust. "This is a joke to you," she muttered in disbelief. "Anya is a joke to you."

He swallowed. Another time, he would've snarked - instead, he was biting his cheek guiltily. After all, Anya did grow on him through his stay.

"Are you even sorry for all the trouble you have given her? The bet was hardly called for!"

James scowled. Under his breath, he cursed Blaise Zabini for throwing him at the wolves.

Marie took another deep breath and suddenly looked very tired. She was too young, he realized. Too young to be dealing with people like him, too young to be protecting the Heir of an old family -

And then, softly, she told him, "I know who you are."

James stiffened. All the force seemed to have drained out of him for he fell on his rear unceremoniously. From the floor, he stared up at her, wide-eyed.

She kept on talking. "And I know you are angry. You have the right to be. But she doesn't know it. Anya doesn't know who you are. To her, you're just her strange friend who came out of nowhere. And she trusts you - and believe me, that's hard to achieve when it comes to her."

"You don't know what are you talking about, Emphat," he spat. He tried to make it sound like an insult but all he managed was to slur.

Marie's jaw ticked but otherwise remained calm. "If you know what I am, then you know that's not right. From everyone else, it is me who understands you the most."

She was too young. Too young to speak to him like a mother would scold her son. Oh, how his mother would be disappointed in him if she saw him now -

His eyelids began to drop shut. As he breathed through his nose he began to panic. He didn't want to be around this girl, this dangerous creature who could probably see through him like no one else could. She'd surpassed his Uncle too. He didn't want to be this helpless in front of a little girl.

James heard her sigh once more.

"Drop it. Just drop it. Stop testing her... she has proven herself enough to everyone. And call the bet off : I think that would be a nice Christmas gift for her. I promise I won't say anything about this to anyone."

Hours later, he was shaken awake by a grinning Viktor. The fool prattled on and on about his 'umno momiche' and only after he noticed the bags under his friend's eyes did he ask about his current circumstances.

Without a doubt, James knew he had accidentally revealed his whereabouts to his family. His gut proved right when the letters came one insignificant morning.

Umno Momiche = clever girl.

Samodiva = water nymph from Bulgaria's myths.