The air smelled faintly of rain, wood smoke, and something sweet—like spiced cider simmering on the hearth. The soft hum of chatter and clinking glasses provided a warm backdrop to the tiny pub nestled in the heart of Godric’s Hollow. Outside, the cobblestone streets glistened under the streetlamps, a soft drizzle falling in silvery sheets. Inside, the firelight cast dancing shadows across the room, and you found yourself seated across from James.

He looked different now—older, more tired, but still undeniably James. His hair was as messy as ever, the unruly strands glinting like ink under the light, and his glasses sat slightly askew on his nose, one arm bent from some recent mishap. He fiddled with the condensation on his mug, tracing idle patterns while he spoke.

“You ever get the feeling you’re being followed?” he asked, his tone caught somewhere between teasing and genuine curiosity.

You blinked. “Followed? By who?”

“Destiny, fate—Sirius, probably. You know how he is. Can’t leave well enough alone.” He smirked, but his hazel eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper, an unease that didn’t quite match the playful banter.

You raised an eyebrow. “Sirius is halfway across the country with Remus. What’s this really about, James?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. The leather jacket he’d insisted on wearing, despite the rain, creaked softly. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the weather. Makes me think too much.” He paused, then added, “Or maybe it’s the fact that I saw a bloody Death Eater mask in Knockturn Alley last week. Could be that.”