Harry Potter The Roguish James Potter and a Diabolical Plan

**Author's Note: This is another Alternate Universe fanfiction. I wrote it because Alternate Universe fics are my favourite kind. Believe it or not, my housemate's ex-girlfriend took my laptop charger when they broke up and she left (she was sort of crazy) and I can't access my computer. I feel crap because I want to write but can't, especially since I have work done for this thing and now can't access it because I forgot to put the files on my external. Anyway. This was sitting in my docs file on my fanfiction account, and I feel like everyone must think I've been lazy. I really didn't want to post it because I wanted to finish all seven chapters of this story before posting, but then I thought I should. Just so you guys know that I've not vanished.**

**The setting for this fic can roughly be described as 'olden times' but the characters use modern language. This is because I don't care all that much about historical accuracy. I wrote this as a fun romp. If _A Knight's Tale_ can do it, so can I. RIP Heath.**

**I really want to thank Kristina for her support and excitement over this story. I also want to thank everyone who reported the author KnowledgeAbsorbed for stealing and reposting two of my fics, even if the mods haven't taken them down yet. Grr.**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**The Barmaid**

The tavern was full to bursting on that night, as it often was, being the only tavern in a small rural village where not much happened and not many visited. The residents of Thornley Cross spent many a night drinking in the Ram's Head, swapping titbits of gossip and reminiscing about times gone by. On that particular night, the Ram's Head was abuzz with an excitement not often felt in such an unremarkable village, for the tavern was playing host to a group of mysterious visitors. Four young men, suspected to be wealthy, and handsome for the most part, had arrived in Thornley Cross that afternoon and sought refuge in a nearby inn.

Mrs Agatha Brown, an elderly widow, was the inn's owner, and she possessed a devilish fondness for gossip. Mrs Brown lost no time in informing her neighbours and friends of her enigmatic new guests, but only after she had seen them established in four of her finest rooms. Word spread within the hour, and when the four young men took it upon themselves to visit the Ram's Head in search of refreshment, they found that a large number of curious visitors had also made it their business to stop by for a drink.

This was happy news for the proprietor, but the four gentlemen were not quite as pleased. They had come to Thornley Cross to carry out a very important task, and were hoping to do so without attracting much notice.

"I hate being stared at," muttered one, Peter Pettigrew. Peter kept his fingers curled tight around his tankard but never once took a sip. Beads of perspiration glimmered on his wide forehead beneath several wisps of straw coloured hair. "I feel like they suspect something."

"They will suspect something if you keep carrying on like a twat," said Sirius Black, who had been drinking liberally from his tankard for several minutes. "Straighten up. Stop sweating. You look shifty, like you're trying to hide something."

"I _am_ hiding something," Peter reminded him sullenly. "And for all we know, they know it."

"Nobody knows," said Remus Lupin, who was examining a faded map. He had not purchased a drink. "They villagers haven't been informed of what travels through the woods tonight."

"Wait until morning. The news will have broken by then, and they'll remember us. Then they'll suspect," said Peter anxiously. He had vehemently opposed the idea of visiting the tavern that night. "We're not exactly inconspicuous, are we? Especially not _you_," he added, with a glare for Sirius, who had come out for the evening dressed all in black, with a lot of leather, and lined his eyes with a dark, smoky substance. "You stand out a mile."

James Potter downed the last of his pint and considered buying another.

"Pete's got a point, mate," he said, and set his tankard down on the table. "Four strange blokes walk into a backwards country pub and one of them's dressed like a pirate. There'll be no forgetting us tomorrow."

"I told you we should have stayed in the inn and played poker," said Peter darkly. "Only that batty old woman would have seen us then."

"Stop worrying, Peter," said Remus, and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We'll be long gone before morning, and there's no way for these people to trace us back to the Hollow."

"The batty old cow doesn't even have our real names," put in Sirius. He turned to James and gave him a wicked grin. "Isn't that right, Mr Longbottom?"

James returned the grin, and lifted his empty tankard to clink against his friend's. "Exactly right, Mr Slughorn. Sir Slughorn? Professor Slughorn? I can never remember."

"Some professor _he'd_ make, in that outfit." The voice came from behind his head, melodious and lilting, the kind of voice that made a tipsy man's heart waltz. "Who'd take him seriously?"

James turned in his seat to gaze up at the barmaid who had served them earlier in the evening. From the moment he'd entered the tavern, she'd caught his eye and he had been flirting with her at every available opportunity. She held a tray in one hand, upon which sat three tankards of ale. A lock of dark red hair had escaped from her messy bun and snaked along her collarbone, leading the eye downwards to the low collar of her dress. He grinned at her.

"You've come back to me," he said, and fluffed his already chaotic hair. "Were you pining?"

"Oh, so very desperately," said the barmaid, and rewarded him for his efforts with a coquettish grin. "I ought to have a bone to pick with you four, you know. You've nicked all of my attention."

"Have we?" said Remus. "How so?"

"Well, I've only been here for a few weeks," she explained, setting the tankards down in front of James, Peter and Sirius. "I came to live with my grandmother in June, and I was the talk of Thornley Cross until you four showed up." She raised an eyebrow at James. "Now you're all anyone can talk about. The old village biddies are abuzz, and I am forgotten."

"I am deeply, deeply sorry about that," said James in earnest, and took her hand in his to soothe her. "I'm a dreadful cad; we all are. Let me apologise by buying you a drink, or some dinner, or by making you my wife."

"You're a charmer, you are."

He flashed his most winning smile in her direction. She had stunning eyes. They were emerald green and sparkled resplendently in the warm, flickering glow of candlelight. She had very pale skin that looked soft. Her hands were smoother than silk. "I only break out the charm for the prettiest barmaids."

"How many barmaids has he recited that spiel to before?" she asked of his friends, amused.

"A fair few, I'd say," said Sirius, and tipped his tankard in her direction. "How much do we owe you for these?"

"They're on the house," said the barmaid, a picture of benevolence. "This is the first night since I started working here that I haven't been groped by some lecherous prat; they're all too busy whispering about the four of you. Consider it my way of thanking you. Thirsty yet, handsome?" she said, addressing Remus, who blushed a little and shook his head. "Let me know when you are."

"Careful," said James to Remus. "I saw her first."

"Don't worry, specs, you're still my favourite," she said. She pulled her hand from his grip and stroked the tip of his nose. "You boys enjoy your night. You know where I am if you need me."

"She's gorgeous, isn't she?" said James wistfully, watching the barmaid glide away. "Excellent bottom."

"She's not my type at all," said Sirius bluntly. "But she didn't charge us for the drink, so I guess she's an alright sort. What's the plan again, Remus?"

"The carriage should pass through the woods between midnight and one, travelling along this road," said Remus in low tones, tracing his finger along a thin, winding line on the map. Peter and Sirius immediately leaned in close to inspect it. "We'll be lying in wait near that old mill at precisely fifteen minutes to midnight, all the better to get our bearings."

"What about the villagers?" said Peter.

"I think the mill is too far out of the village for anyone to happen upon us. If anyone decides to take a midnight stroll, the cover offered by the trees will shelter us."

"Besides," said Sirius. "What are the chances that anyone in the village is going to get up and take a walk at that exact hour, and on that exact road? Nobody walks through the woods alone at night."

"Not unless they're criminals," said Remus dryly. "So, at fifteen minutes to midnight, Peter will station himself in – James?"

James had been turned around in his seat, watching the barmaid as she laughed at another smitten patron's joke, and thinking that it was a false laugh if ever he'd heard one, for she was far too pretty to be interested in an old toad like that, especially not when he, James Potter, was sitting twenty feet away from her. He turned back to the table, annoyed by the interruption to his mooning. "What?"

"Have you been paying attention to _anything_ I was saying?"

"Sure I was," he said, and ruffled his messy black hair, tossing a casual glance over his shoulder to see if the barmaid had noticed how magnificent it was. "Midnight. Woods. Abandoned well. I know."

"I said _mill_, not well."

"Whatever, it's all the same principle," he said. "What do you think her name is?"

"Who cares?" said Sirius.

"Why don't you ask her when she comes back?" said Peter. "Provided she doesn't slip in the puddle of drool you've left by your seat."

"Maybe I will," said James, and looked over his shoulder at her once more. "Maybe I will."

"Fantastic," said Sirius, annoyed. "We're here trying to plan a heist and James has gone and fallen in love with some floozy ginger barmaid."

"She's not a floozy!" cried James, scandalised. "You could get slapped for making insinuations like that."

"Is that so?" A malicious grin spread across Sirius's face. "Let me paint a charming picture for you. A young girl moves to a sleepy old village with her grandmother in spite of the fact that no young person in their right mind would ever want to move here. That spells an out-of-wedlock pregnancy to me. Where are her parents?"

"Sirius," said James warningly.

"Somewhere out there, that girl's mother is raising a baby and pretending she gave birth to it, and ginger over there has come here to hide away in shame."

"Shut up, Sirius," said Remus, interrupting James, who had opened his mouth to retort. "The last thing we need is for the two of you to start fighting in the middle of a pub."

"Yeah, people are staring enough as it is," Peter pointed out. "Let's just go over the plan again."

"I've had enough of the plan," James whined. "We've gone over the plan a million times. We know what we're doing, and when, and how, and that we're doing it next to the bloody abandoned mill. Can't we just relax for an hour and have a good time?"

"Relaxing is one thing," said Remus. "Getting drunk is another. That's the last ale you're having tonight."

"But what if the barmaid comes back and wants to give us another for free?"

"Politely decline," said Peter. "It's not going to make her cry if you do."

"Can we forget the barmaid and go back to the plan, please?" said Sirius, scowling. "Peter, where are you going to be at midnight?"

"Inside the mill. Top window. Lookout," Peter promptly replied.

"And when will you notify us of the carriage's appearance?"

"The very second I see it."

"This will give Remus approximately thirty seconds to get into position." Sirius nodded to Remus. "James and I will be nearby, already in _our_ positions, and Peter will join us within the minute. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said Peter.

"Agreed," said Remus.

"Agreed," said James, rolling his eyes. "For the hundredth time."

"You two are ridiculous," said Remus, and leaned back in his seat, shaking his head at the both of them. "Remind me again why I do this with you lot?"

"Because you can't resist it," said Sirius with a grin, and loped an arm around James' shoulders. "Think of how crap your life would be otherwise."

"You're a prat," said Remus, and rolled up the map.

"I think I need the toilet, actually," said James, and shook his friend's arm off. He rose from his seat as if in a trance. "Back in a minute."

He strolled off in the direction of the bar and left his friends staring after him in his wake, wearing matching expressions of total bewilderment.

* * *

"I snore," he said, approaching the bar while her back was to him. "Loudly, I've been told."

She spun around with admirable grace and surveyed him with an expression of mild curiosity, pausing in the act of polishing a tankard. Her hair had grown messier still since she last spoke to him, with more wisps escaping from her bun to frame her pretty face. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the tavern, but otherwise her skin was like cream, and her plump, rose pink lips delicious and inviting. Kissable, indeed. He imagined that kissing her would be quite an experience.

"That's a line I haven't heard before, I'll admit," she said, and those same lips curled into a smile. "Can I ask why you've chosen this approach?"

"I thought you might have come away from our first encounter believing that I'm a perfect specimen of man," he said. "And I didn't want to leave you with a false impression."

"Oh, I see. Well, thank you for that."

"You're very welcome."

"And that's your only flaw, is it? Snoring?"

James nodded, his glasses slipping down his nose. The barmaid considered him for a moment, with her head cocked to one side, then dropped the cloth she'd been using.

"Want another?" she asked, holding the tankard beneath the tap, and filling it with ale before he could answer. "You'll have to pay this time, but at least you'll have the pleasure of my company."

"Agreed," he said immediately, and after rummaging around in his pocket, removed some coins and tossed them across the bar. She slid the tankard towards him in response.

"I thrash about in my sleep," she admitted, as she placed his money in the register. "Wildly. It's a good thing I sleep alone, or I might be in danger of injuring others."

"Are you subtly trying to tell me that you're available?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you subtly trying to tell me that you'd like me to join you in your lonely bed?"

"What would you think of an invitation like that?"

"I'd think it was tempting," she said, and leaned in towards him, palms flat against the bar. Her eyelashes fluttered and he wondered if this was love at first sight, or just the effect that ale could have on a man in a dimly lit tavern with a beautiful woman. He took a mouthful and concluded that it could have been both.

"Really?"

"But premature," she finished smartly. "You don't even know my name, after all."

"You could always tell me your name."

"You could tell me yours first."

"Can't, I'm afraid," he said, hoping that his evasiveness might make him look cool and mysterious, as opposed to suspicious. "That's top secret information."

"And why's that?" she said, momentarily thrusting her chest forward as a dark-haired barmaid squeezed by behind her. James blinked rapidly at her bosom. "Committing any crimes later?"

"Would you like me less if I was?"

"As long as you don't rob this place and leave me with a mess to clean up," she said, with a shrug. "I'll like you just fine, specs."

"You keep calling me that," he pointed out. "What's this thing you have against my glasses?"

"I don't have a thing," she said, with a wry quirk of the lips. "I like glasses. They can make a man look very clever."

"Again, providing you with realistic expectations."

"Can I try them on?"

"I'll let you try them on if you agree to have another drink with me."

"I'll agree to have a drink with you if you tell me what your name is."

He hesitated for a moment, taking another mouthful to buy time, mindful of the fact that he wasn't supposed to give his name out to anybody. It wasn't a smart move for a master criminal. His three companions would certainly not have approved. On the other hand, he held a common first name, and had drunk the better part of three glasses of ale, and the barmaid was so very, very pretty, with her fluttering lashes and glittering green eyes.

"It's James," he said, finally. "James... Longbottom."

"James," she repeated, smiling. "That's a nice name. I like it. Although, Longbottom is certainly unfortunate."

"I'll ignore that part and happily accept the original compliment. I'm sure my name is almost as nice as yours," he replied. "Which is?"

"I'll tell you my name when I've tried on your glasses," she said, and held out her hand for them. "Pretty please?"

"Yeah, alright. I'll just give them a wipe."

He made to take his glasses off, but was rudely interrupted by Sirius, who seemed to appear as if from nowhere and slammed into his right side. He wobbled on his feet and had to grip the edge of the bar to keep himself from falling over.

"Oi, Frank!" cried Sirius and clapped him hard on his shoulder. "We have to leave."

"Frank?" said the barmaid, frowning.

"He's joking. We don't have to leave," James replied and shot a look in his friend's direction which indicated that he wanted to be left alone, but Sirius did not leave. Instead, he grabbed hold of James' upper arm and squeezed it, hard. James gave a strained laugh and attempted to pull himself free. "We can leave later, mate. I'm talking to the pretty barmaid."

"No, we can leave now. The pretty barmaid is only flirting with you for tips, and probably wants rid of you," said Sirius, with a respectful nod in her direction. "Besides, what about your wife?"

James stopped struggling. "_What_?"

"You have a _wife_?" said the barmaid.

"That's right," said Sirius coldly, and released James' arm. "His poor, long-suffering wife, Alice. She's stuck at home with the two little ones while he's chatting you up," he added, looking at the barmaid, who was wide-eyed. "How many times are you going to do this to her, Frank? Haven't you hurt her enough?"

"This is ludicrous. I'm not married," he added, for the barmaid's benefit. "He's only saying it because he wants me to leave with him."

"Oh, _really_?" said Sirius, and shoved his hand into James' pocket, much to his surprise. "So what's this you've been hiding?"

He removed his hand and held it out for the barmaid to inspect. Lying square in the centre of his palm was a shiny golden ring. The barmaid gasped, and covered her mouth with her hands as James called out in outrage and surprise. He had seen that particular ring before, but it most certainly didn't belong to him, or to any fictitious wives.

"That's not mine!" he protested, but he knew that it was over.

"He hides it in his pocket whenever he goes out for a drink," said Sirius. "Looking for cheap barmaids to take to his bed."

"I can't believe this," said the barmaid under her breath. "I can't believe this."

"He's lying! It's not true. Sirius, what the hell are you playing – Argh!" James recoiled as his tankard of ale was picked up and boldly tossed in his face. "But he's _lying_ to you! I swear on my life!"

"You absolute _pig_," the barmaid snarled, with narrowed eyes. She set the tankard down and stalked away to the other end of the bar, where she tossed her hair self-importantly and immediately set to dazzling another lustful punter.

"I will _kill_ you, you utter prat!" James spat, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "I really liked her!"

"Yeah, and I'm sure you had a real future together," Sirius replied, grabbing James's arm again and steering him towards the table where Remus and Peter were gathering up their things. "If only we weren't leaving tomorrow and never coming back."

"Well I'll never know now, will I?" said James resentfully. "Christ, Sirius, she actually liked me and you've gone and cocked it right up."

"That's Horace to you, Frank."

* * *

At thirty minutes past the tenth hour of the evening, four men bearing the pseudonyms Frank Longbottom, Horace Slughorn, Amos Diggory and Argus Filch left the Ram's Head and returned to their inn, where they spent some time alone in quiet preparation. At thirty minutes past the eleventh hour of the evening, the same four men crept from their respective rooms and left the inn through a damaged window in the back kitchen – the staff and owner having retired to bed for the night. They travelled on foot for fifteen minutes until they reached the heart of the woods that lay next to Thornley Cross, and found the old mill, which had long been abandoned. The man who called himself Filch left the group to enter the mill and climb to the very top window. The one who called himself Diggory stationed himself on a tree stump at the road's edge, ready to assume the position of injured traveller should his colleague signal the arrival of a carriage, and the two remaining sat crouched behind a thicket of bushes.

The road that ran through Thornley Wood had been frequently used by the residents of Thornley Cross until a newer, safer road had been built on the village's western side, linking it to some of the bigger market towns in the area. It was now rarely used, save by the local baker, who had his supplies delivered by the village on the other side of the woods, or by any person or persons intent upon travelling in secrecy. The carriage due to pass through Thornley Wood that night carried precious cargo. A certain Cornelius Fudge, an important political personage in London, was having transported a wide variety of very expensive jewellery, a gift for his mistress. The names of Longbottom, Slughorn, Diggory and Filch did not carry any weight with the nobility of Britain, but the names of Potter and Black did, and it was through the connections of James Potter and Sirius Black that they had learned of Fudge's plans.

From their spot, James Potter and Sirius Black could see the road, the mill, and Remus Lupin, who sat so still on his stump that he could easily have passed for a statue. Having bickered for the best part of an hour, they had since made tentative peace, but James was still resentful, and of a mind to impress this upon his friend.

"She touched my nose," he was saying, viciously sharpening his blade against a large rock that lay nearby. "It was like magic."

"What would you have done if she'd picked it for you?" Sirius replied irritably. "Ejaculated?"

"Don't be crass."

"Don't be a twat."

"She wanted to go to bed with me, too," James continued. His eyes grew wistful behind his glasses. "Well, she said it was a tempting offer. We really had something going before you turned up."

"For the last time, James, she didn't want to go to bed with you, she was pretending. Flirting with customers is part of her job."

"I can't _believe_ you showed her Slytherin's ring. What if she'd recognised it from the reports?"

Sirius guffawed. "As if _you_ care about the reports."

"I do."

"You don't," said Sirius. "You would have told her about every job we've ever pulled if you thought it'd get you a quick shag. You're just angry because she thinks you're married now."

"And you're jealous because nobody fancies you," James replied. "And because you look like a pirate."

"Shut up, both of you," said Remus, from several feet away. "We're supposed to be keeping quiet."

"Keep your knickers on, Remus," said Sirius, adjusting his eye mask, which made him look even more ridiculous than the stupid pirate costume. "There's nobody around."

"What if Peter saw the carriage and signalled to us, but we didn't hear him because the two of you were having a chat?"

Unable to respond to this logic and shamed by their stupidity, Sirius and James fell silent, and allowed several minutes to pass while they waited for Fudge's carriage, in which Remus Lupin's silent triumph was palpable. The woods were thick in that area, and only the vaguest glimmerings of moonlight could be seen through a dense canopy of leaves when James turned his face upwards. From his vantage point in the mill, Peter would have the easiest time of spotting the lanterns of the carriage as it approached.

Sure enough, minutes later, James heard the hoot of an owl – their agreed upon signal. Remus immediately threw himself into the road and lay there, moaning loudly and clutching his side as if grievously wounded. This was Remus Lupin's speciality. Peter refused due to stage fright, and James and Sirius had both tried it once, but had overacted stupidly, and made fools of themselves.

"This is it," Sirius muttered, drawing a pistol from his belt. "Ready?"

"Course I am," said James, and in the distance he heard the rumbling of wheels. "I'm always ready."

He withdrew his own pistol and stuck his knife in his belt, just as Peter joined them, having raced from the mill on his chubby legs, red faced and slightly short of breath, but otherwise ready for action. All three of them hung back as the carriage drew close, and a voice called out into the darkness when the front lanterns threw Remus' prone form into sharp relief.

"Stop! _Stop_! This man has been hurt!"

There was a clattering of hooves and a whine from one of the horses, but the carriage stopped. From his hiding spot James could see two men scramble down from the driver's podium in order to rush to Remus, who was groaning quite convincingly. The carriage door opened and another man climbed out, holding a lantern of his own, to join the other two. Their concern for Remus seemed genuine, and James almost felt sorry for them. It was generally much easier to rob somebody without feeling guilty if the intended victims were inclined to ignore the man pretending to be wounded in the road.

"I'll take the tall one," said Sirius, grinning as he bounced up and down on his haunches.

"I'll take the fatty," said James.

"Guess that leaves me with the reasonably sized one," said Peter affably.

"Only three men?" Sirius whispered. "Easy peasy."

"Lemon squeezy," said James, and leapt valiantly from behind the thicket. "Good evening, gentlemen!"

The three men gathered around Remus turned at once, but James already had his pistol pointed in their direction. Sirius and Peter were close behind, each with their own pistols directed at the head of their chosen mark. Behind their victims, Remus had jumped nimbly to his feet, and he, too, had a pistol in hand. Upon seeing that they were surrounded, none of the men attempted to draw a weapon of their own, but bunched together as if for protection, throwing their hands in the air in surrender.

"You're a wiser bunch than usual," said Sirius approvingly, who was never more in his element than when he was in the middle of a robbery. "Keep those hands in the air, chaps. Nice and high, that's it, and nobody needs to get hurt."

"What is the meaning of this?" said one, the shortest of the three. "What are you doing?"

"Spoke too soon," said Sirius, and rolled his eyes. "It's a robbery. _Obviously_. Tie this one up first."

It was an easier score than usual, and it didn't take long for James, Sirius, Remus and Peter to subdue and restrain all three of the men. They sometimes came across people who would try to fight them off, which was bothersome, but outnumbering their victims on this occasion made their task all the easier. Once that was taken care of, a quick scan of the inside of the carriage provided them with what they had been looking for – a gleaming mahogany box, containing two priceless necklaces, a golden tiara which dated back centuries, and a beautifully ornate diamond ring – all of which, they knew, could fetch enough at barter to keep the four of them living comfortably for several years. It was a good loot, and their spirits were high when they bade farewell to their three victims, who were tied up, side-by-side, at the base of a large tree, glowering up at them and snarling empty threats.

"Don't worry, chaps," said Sirius brightly. "We won't let you die out here, we're not monsters. We'll send word of your location once we're safely out of the area."

"What makes you think you'll get out of the area?" said one of the tied, the smallest one. "Those are Cornelius Fudge's possessions you've got there. You're not going to get away with this so easily."

"Oh, but we are," said James, swinging the bag, in which they had placed the box, from side to side. "I don't think Fudge will want it made public that he was having hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of diamonds sent to his mistress, instead of to his loving wife, do you, Amos?"

"Not at all," said Remus. "In fact, I think he'd rather like to keep that particular piece of information from the general public."

"If anything, we're doing him a service," put in Peter. "Saving him from himself."

"So, you see, I think we're going to 'get away with it' quite easily indeed," James finished.

"If you don't get caught first," said another of the tied, staring at a spot past James' ear with a smirk on his face. "I think you boys ought to look behind you."

Look behind them they did. Several feet away, standing on the other side of the road and barely concealed by the trees, stood a person – a cloaked, hooded person – but a person without doubt, who was holding a lantern aloft and, although they couldn't see his face – undoubtedly staring directly at them. Within a fraction of a second, the lantern was dropped to the ground, where it smashed, and the hooded man turned and ran, darting off into the darkness.

"We've been seen!" Sirius cried, quite irrelevantly, and drew his pistol once more as he, too, ran in the direction in which their mysterious interrupter had fled. "Catch him!"


End file.

Harry Potter, Romance