Chapter Text
It was a normal December morning.
Not precisely normal, as it was the start of winter break.
Usually, the halls and corridors were loud, with children outside of their rooms, dormitories, and classrooms, excited about their plans for Christmas.
He could still recall, their Christmas from 1977.
James, as early as rooster, banging on the door of their dorm, yelling for everyone to get up.
Sirius was staying with him at Potter's Manor of course.
Remus was going to stay with his parents, seeing that it might have been the last Christmas with his dad.
And Peter was going to his home too.
Which was right next to James'.
Peter.
The memory of his name was enough to sour his good morning, and James let his hand sink deeper in his pocket.
And the same question was still lingering in James' head.
Why did he do that?
What was the reason behind Peter joining the Voldemort?
How could he easily pass James to Voldemort, when they had known each other ever since they could remember? When they had grown right next to each other? Inseparable since childhood till their early adulthood?
The Pettigrews themselves were against pure-blood ideologies.
Then why?
Was he scared?
Did they threaten him? Blackmail him?
Was he under the imperious curse?
No.
The imperious curse cannot force the fidilius charm down.
His head shook, trying to pull himself away from his thoughts. Right now wasn't the suitable time to think about this.
Not when he's supposed to be heading to the Great Hall.
Today was supposed to be loud.
That how the morning of winter break was, students excited to get back home.
That's how it should be.
Except, the silence was too loud.
Too loud that you'd feel that the silence was too noisy.
Weirdly quiet.
James paused just by the entrance of the Great Hall.
Weird.
A deep frown drew on his face, a questioning frown.
The only sound that could be heard were the scatter and drops of spoons and forks, with knives cutting through their meals and cups slammed against the tables.
Other than that?
Not a single breathe.
Finally, James walked, pursuing the silent, his boots echoing by each step, but being muffled through the echoes of the silverware. Groups of students were huddled together gathered to see something.
Now, closer by, whispers can be caught. Students were taking glances at him, and then back at whatever magazine or newspaper they were discussing about.
And James felt the pit grow in his stomach.
The press had written something about him.
Because what hobby did the press know other than taking a well-known public figure and typing shit about it?
He walked up to the staff table and took a vacant seat, grabbing the pitcher of milk pouring himself a full cup.
The staff were silent as well.
Including Minerva.
Instead, she took a quick glance at him, thinking that James hadn't noticed.
And James pretended not to notice, placing some friend eggs and toast on his plate.
A hoot from above James' head came, forcing James to look up.
Archimedes.
The Daily Prophet dropped to his lap, like every morning, before Archimedes took a seat on his shoulder.
"Hey buddy," James greeted, taking a piece of bacon and passing it to his grey owl.
Which he didn't accept.
Why was everyone cranky today?
Even Severus, who was sitting on the other side of table, as far as possible from James, looked extra cranky, ready to spit out the killing curse as soon as possible.
The wight finally fell off his shoulder as Archimedes flew away, leaving James to wonder about his attitude today.
Did Harry give him some treats with Hedwig just as he told him?
The paper shifted under his grasp, revealing the front page of the newspaper. A man with wild black hair, trying to escape the grasp of at least half a dozen aurors as he was forced to take a mugshot.
James froze..
And the paper fell from his grasp.
And suddenly, it all made sense why everyone was acting weird.
He took off his glasses, wiped them with the hep of his robes, and put them on again.
SIRIUS BLACK HAD ESCPAED: MASS MURDERER ON THE LOOSE
Sirius Black, Padfoot, had escaped.
Right!
He was supposed to escape by December!
Right!
How could he have forgotten that?!
He did escape!
Of course he would. That was Sirius. He'd do anything as long as he had his mind set up for it.
Then why didn't he escape earlier?
Of course, what use would it be? He wouldn't be able to help Harry if he was wanted, and it's not like Peter was anywhere to be found. He was sure in his rat animagi form now.
It didn't matter now.
Sirius was out, and that what did matter.
'Don't laugh, you fool!' he internally yelled at himself, finally understanding the side-glances Minerva had been giving him.
The edge of the paper crumbled under his fist.
Where would Sirius be now? There were a lot of places he could be at, and as his dog form, it would be easier to wander around in the public. No one had really known that he was an animagus, except for Remus, who wouldn't risk James' being an animgus and him being a werewolf at the same time.
Minerva also might now.
He took one deep, fake-shuddered breath, then quickly stood up from his seat, abandoning his plate of breakfast that James would love to gulp down.
But the optics, of course, optics were the base of anything.
Optics were the base of politics, the base of investigation, the base of framed-murder.
His steps were quick and deliberate as he stepped out of the staff's table, heading to the exit, with students turning their heads to look at him, but James kept his eyes at the gate.
There was an echo of steps behind him as he left the hall, already going for the stairs, but James didn't mind. He needed to return to his dorm, have breakfast, because he was so hungry he might eat a whole elephant. Then he has to send a coded letter to Sirius and hope that Archimedes could find him, organize the students' departure from Hogwarts' Express, some of end-of-the-term paperwork and--
FUCK!
There is a board meeting this afternoon!
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
On the bright side..
Lucius Malfoy will have to be there.
And James already planned out what he was supposed to do.
If Severus was hiding something, protecting Lucius somehow, then he will extract it by force.
"James!"
This was Minerva's voice, yelling for him, steps echoing as she was trailing behind him.
He continued walking, faster, not wanting to be caught for any sort of conversation in this moment.
"James Potter!" She yelled out, louder, more fierce, and James knew not to ignore her when she spoke with such a tone.
He stopped, his shoulders slagging down, and slowly turned to face her.
She kept her face stoic as usual, but there was a knot by her eyebrows, ticking.
"I'd suggest you join me for a cup of tea," she said, keeping her posture upright.
"Maybe later," he was about to turn and leave, "I still have some work to do."
"It can be rescheduled."
"Well," he shrugged, "students' departure cannot be rescheduled."
"Pomona and Hagrid can take care of that," she said, then walked right past him, "Follow me."
James held his breathe, tailing behind her, keeping his head low as he didn't want to look at anyone at the moment.
He hoped Sirius wouldn't head for Potter's Manor, since this might be the first place the Auror Department would look at.
Even if he was there as Padfoot, it wasn't really worth the risk.
His fingers twitched, and he pushed them deeper inside his pockets.
Could he trust Remus not to mention the animagi part?
And it did hurt, it did sting, having to question if he could trust one of his closest friends or not.
Why did he have to doubt Remus now?
Who can he believe?
Who can he trust?
If Peter Pettigrew, the friend he grew up with, could betray him, then what should make his so sure that Remus would?
Fuck, what should make him sure that Sirius didn't lie to him that day?
Who can he trust?
Sirius was told to be a traitor, but turned out to be framed.
Peter had betrayed him.
And Remus was not willing to believe him.
And James was stuck in the middle, trying to muddle it all together.
Why would Peter do that?
The same question that had been occupying him since summer.
He wanted nothing but to return to his quarters, get the students on the platform, finish his evaluations, and go to that stupid meeting.
Anything that was willing to change his train of thoughts.
He raised his head a bit, and the only one around was Minerva--right ahead of him, her green robes practically flying behind her.
But other than her, there was no one.
He didn't want anyone.
No one at all.
Only Minerva.
And he cannot push Minerva away.
She was a Gryffindor, the head of Gryffindor. She'd pull him harder than he'll push her.
So, he just followed her in silence.
They stopped in front of the door, the door of Minerva's office. How could he forget that office?
He had spent most of his detentions here.
And if not detentions, he'd report for Head Boy duty, or for complaints, and take it as an excuse for a chat.
Remus and Peter never believed that.
"Take a seat," she said, just as they stepped inside, flanking her wand to turn the fireplace, breaking the chill of the office.
Was it worth it to fight against her.
No.
So, he sat on the chair opposite to her desk, letting out a loud groan as he laid his head on the desk.
Bored.
He was so fucking bored.
Everything was so fucking boring.
This job itself was boring, nothing exciting about it at all.
Maybe, in another life, he would've been a professional quidditch player, and he would be in a match right now, and he might be in a match right now, with Lily, Harry, and the rest of their friends cheering out loud with matching jerseys that had his number.
He would be on the front page of the newspaper, but not as a front face to Voldemort's downfall, or how he had miraculously survived an intense cruciatus curse with his mind still intact, but because he was the best chaser in Wizarding Britain.
He stared at the cup of tea Minerva had just passed to him.
"Horrible feeling, isn't it?" Minerva suddenly said, pushing a box of biscuits towards him. James sat up, taking the warm cup of tea into his freezing hand, "The feeling of being betrayed by someone you thought you could trust."
James scoffed, carelessly, the grip on his cup tightening.
He'd pretend she's talking about Peter, just to keep himself sane.
Because Sirius was innocent, and James knew it.
"My own sisters had turned their backs on me," she continued, grabbing a small spoon, "After all the favours I had done for them."
James paused, and looked up from his cup of tea to Minerva, who had her own eyes on her cup, placing a spoonful of sugar before stirring.
"My mother, who was a witch, married a catholic man, a religious one who believed that witchcraft was a sin," she said, "and my mother was, what could I say? Madly in love, or cursed with love? She had abandoned the wizarding world, hid the fact that she was a witch, and married him."
It wasn't everyday Minerva had spoken if herself.
In fact, he had just known that she had a muggle father.
"Everything was perfect for her. Three daughters, three squib daughters who did not show any sign of magic. Their lives were perfect," she continued, "Until, I, the youngest daughter, started showing signs for magic, and it couldn't be hidden anymore."
James might have an idea what this was leading to.
A catholic man, who believes witchcraft as a sin, being blessed with a witch daughter, but seeing it as a curse.
"Life under that roof became unbearable," she said, "Especially for my sisters. I had spent most of the year at Hogwarts."
"Then there was his brother, whose son was supposed to inherit everything if my father died," she continued, putting down her cup of tea rather more aggressive, "He would always lit the fuse, that his daughters would bring shame to the family name, that he should not allow us to leave the house or be in the house alone, that were going to do what the Lord detests. Two of my sisters were forced in a marriage--one who got divorced, and I cannot describe what she had went through."
And James couldn't think about anything but what his mum had went through.
"The only thing that mattered to them was what would people say, what would people speak?" His mum had said, pouring more of the coconut oil in her hands, before her fingers on James' sculp again, "They never really cared about the religious values, they never cared about heaven and hell, for they were hell itself, what they cared about was people's tongues."
"But you just wanted to learn about potions. What was so wrong about it?" James had asked, so naive, so innocent, so ignorant to the cruelty outside his parents' safety.
A sad smile drew on her face.
"But then, came the worst day of all," Minerva continued, her voice low, louder than a whisper, but low enough as if she didn't want to continued talking, "My sister, who was three years older than me, got raped."
James froze.
It felt as the room suddenly lost the heat coming from the fireplace.
"She came to us crying that day, horribly crying and scared. We made sure not to tell anyone, not a single soul, but out mother had overheard the conversation, and as the loyal wife and the servant of God she was, she had told my father," she said, then took a deep breathe, closing her eyes for a second, an involuntary scowl on his face, "We were all beaten, face purple with bruises, with my sister, the victim, being on the brink of death."
Horrible.
Gut wrenching.
How could a man treat his own daughters, of blood and flesh, like that?
Because if this was Harry.
Because if James had the time to be blessed with a daughter.
Then he wouldn't even think of doing that.
"But you did not allow it to happen, right?" James said, because he knew how fierce how Minerva was. A genius in her field, but still undervalued.
She scoffed, "I trust that you can keep a secret."
"You would not believe the amount of secrets I keep," James responded.
Including that Sirius was not a traitor.
"If I hadn't known that you still keep Lupin's secret, I would've not told you this story," she said, "I killed him."
"WHAT?!"
Minerva? Minerva McGonagall?! Kills?
She valued human life and dignity, that a human shouldn't be treated any less than a human.
But was her father a human?
She smiled.
"I have many regrets in life, but this?" she said, "Killing my father and framing his brother is not any of them."
"You? Killed?" he said, putting his cup down and pointing at Minerva, "I'm sorry, but that's saying that a lion is eating flowers. Were you an adult at that time at least."
"Shame on you to think that I killed him with a killing curse," she laughed, "And yes, I was seventeen, right before my seventh year."
"You didn't kill him with a killing curse?"
"I killed him with his own rifle," she muttered, "Four bullets. He had four bullets with our names on. In case one of us dared to bring shame to the family. Ironic isn't it? Four bullets, from four angry daughters, shot by the daughter whom he thought was curse. And I framed his brother, of course."
She let out a sigh.
"Seventeen years worth of misery," she said, "And I ended it with my own hands, I freed them with my hands, and guess what?! Guess what those cowards gad done?"
And James guessed.
A shared feeling.
Betrayal.
"They snitched on you to the muggle-police," he asked, or kind of asked, as it came out as a statement.
"Yes," she responded, "back then, there wasn't much regulations on the memory charms, and I had easily dealt with it."
But the sting was still there.
She had thought that her sisters had her back, the same way she had theirs.
"There were three sisters, the fourth does not exist,'' she said, "They were terrified of me, seen how I did not hesitate to shoot him again after he was begging me not to, he begged, on his knees, bleeding out, and I shot and shot and shot, kicked and kicked, hit his head with the rifle, enough to crack a bone. All of this rage I felt, all of my hatred, I had let it all out."
"And it felt nice, dare I say, like giving a horse two galloons of water after a long race," she rested her head on the back of the chair, "But they were terrified, horrified. The devil ahd possessed her, they would whisper. Could they get me a priest or would I kill him as well?"
Was Peter terrified of him?
No..no..
He was terrified of Voldemort, what could Voldemort do to them was unspeakable. What had been done to Dorcas Meadowes was horrifying, and what happened to Marlene Mckinnon and her family was much gruesome.
Peter had feared that he would be next. The worst thing the order would do was send him to Azkaban, and the most merciful thing the Death Eaters would do is give him a quick death.
But through the terrible thoughts, he couldn't feel himself tensing. It was the exact opposite, the more seconds had passed, the more relaxed he felt.
"Eat," Minerva said, pushing the biscuits closer to him.
"Don't fancy anything at the moment," James said, wanting to return back to the original conversation, "Do you miss your sisters?"
"There isn't a day that goes by that I don't"
And James can't do anything but understand.
Because if Peter was right in front of him, if he was standing right in front if him this exact moment. James doesn't know if he would able to do anything, James doesn't know if he will let him live or kill him or punch and punch and punch until he was a bleeding mess of a corpse.
"I did not expect them to snitch on me like that."
And James knew how that sting should feel like.
"I didn't expect it too," James agreed, feeling some strange calmness spread through him, "I put my whole trust within him."
He should've not switched the secret keeper.
He should've let Sirius be.
And if Sirius insisted, he should've considered Albus' offer.
Half of the blame at least falls on James' shoulder.
‘Say that again, and make my shoe hits your face,’ Lily would tell him, her eyebrows might twitch.
“You couldn’t have known that this would happen,” Minerva said.
And James knew Lily would say the exact same.
James shrugged.
He knew that he couldn’t have known Peter would’ve betrayed them.
But he knew that there was a spy in the order at that time.
And James had trusted him blindly, without having him prove his loyalty to the order.
He should’ve been extra careful.
It was normal.
What was this muggle saying?
Beware of your enemy once, and from your friend a thousand times.
She let out a loud sigh.
“It would suffocate you for a while, for a very long while,” she said, “but you shouldn’t let it stop you. You’re still young, and the life is long shrewd if you.”
James should’ve laughed.
He wasn’t suffocating?
And no, he wasn’t young.
He was thirty-two, soon to be thirty-three.
Ten years of his life had been taken away.
Ten years, and in those ten years, he could’ve done better things than being asleep in a a room in St. Mungos.
“How about you?” James asked, resting his head on his head, “Are you still ‘suffocating’?”
James had known about her muggle husband, about her also being a widow.
She scoffed, “You really enjoy switching topics, do you?”
James shrugged, “You’re the one doing it now.”
“Well,” she said, tapping her finger against the desk, “Yes. It does get better though.”
James didn’t want it to be ‘better’.
If ‘better’ meant that he would move on with his life, without Lily, forgetting Lily.
Then he’d rather be ‘suffocating’ for the rest of his life.
‘Until death do us apart.’
This was their vows.
They were supposed to die together.
And if James could, he wanted Lily to love way longer after him.
He took a deep breathe, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair as his head laid on his hand.
He was supposed to die that night.
Voldemort had wanted to ‘play’ a while longer with him after he kills Lily and Harry.
And if it wasn’t for Lily, then he and Harry would’ve been dead.
"May I leave now?" James finally said.
Minerva looked at him for a second, something in her eyes darkening, before she let a sigh.
"Yes," she said, "You have a meeting this afternoon. Don't forget that."
"Don't worry," he said, getting up from his seat, "Thanks for the tea."
"And James,"
He stopped, his hand right brassing on the handle of the door.
"Sirius Black was an animagi too, right?" She said.
Alright.
Shit.
"Do you want it to go unmentioned?"
"Yes," James immediately said, "I mean....if possible."
"Even if this meant that he might not be caught?" she said, her eyebrows knotting together.
He nodded.
"They'd go after Remus too," James said, which definitely wasn't the case, "I would go off the hook easily, but Remus won't."
Her lips thinned, then she nodded.
"Consider it done."
"Thank you."
He walked out of the office, closing the door shut behind him.
The tea was good. Whatever Minerva has placed in that tea had did it's work.
And he had to remind himself, again..
Sirius was out of Azkaban.
James might have failed to clear his name in the last few months, given that there was nothing at all. No interviews, no trial, no lead but the fact that Sirius was supposed to be the secret keeper.
But it didn't matter.
Sirius was out of Azkaban.
His shoulders relaxed as he walked through the corridors towards his quarters, glad, like a butterfly fluttering in his chest.
What can go wrong today?
He went on, humming a well-familiar tune. Fresh, but only in his own memory.
I can still recall
Our last summer
I still see it all
Walks around the Siene
Laughing in the air
It had come out on November of 1980.
Harry had only been four months, able to laugh, able to stretch his little limbs, baring a tooth-less smile as Sirius was trying to pull him from Marlene's arms.
A year before her death.
His smile started to fade, but it was still there, smaller, nostalgic.
The memory of Marlene's death was still fresh.
It was a dark gloomy morning.
James was looking up at the sky through the window, a cup of hot milk in hand, wondering what were the rest doing.
But just the look into the sky made something in James' heart flutter.
This was going to be a bad day.
Something inside him was telling him it was going to be a disaster.
Lily claimed that she was tired, that she'd go rest for a couple of hours.
That wasn't out of the ordinary. Lily had been frequently tired lately, especially since they went into hiding.
James was sitting by window, and he looked down at his son, who was playing with his blocks as usual. Kind of failing to stick them together.
Apparently, James had overslept, and Lily had let him be, when Albus Dumbledore came over along with Sirius, who dropped off Harry's first birthday gift early, not sure if he could come over.
And yeah, James had missed him.
Along with his other friends too.
He looked down at Harry again.
Was Voldemort sane?
Afraid of a baby that was currently chewing on blocks?
"Hey, dude, don't you think it's already time for your nap?" James turned off to the baby sprawled on the carpet, who obviously wasn't understanding any shit.
Harry had abandoned his blocks, then crawled over to where James was sitting, before supporting himself using James legs.
"Come here," James said, bending over and picking little Harry up, who was jumping up in excitement, "Sorry mate, I'd have to put you in bed now."
But Harry wasn't having it, he was flapping his hand in the air. James raised an eyebrow, understanding what he wants. He got up, his joints cracking--Merlin, he was just twenty-one, still holding Harry in his arms.
"But then you'd have to take your nap, alright?"
Then, James threw him in the air, and Harry's giggles were loud, echoing, and James smiled, catching Harry, and throwing him up again.
"Okay, okay, that's it," he said, holding Harry properly, an arm under him, and a hand behind his back, holding his by the neck, "Let's get you to your room, so it could just be me and mummy and you'd keep this tiny nose of yours out of our business for a while."
He walked up the stairs, humming one of Harry's lullabies--a muggle lullaby that he heard from Lily, and Harry's head was already resting against his shoulder, drifting, but still trying to fight off the sleep, fighting for more time to play, but apparently, the fight wouldn't keep up for long.
"Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb," James whispered, patting against Harry's back, pacing through the nursery, "Mary had a little lamb, it was as white as snow."
"And everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, and everywhere where Mary went, the lamb was sure to go."
Soon, Harry was asleep, heavier against James chest, unmoving, and snoring loudly.
James walked over to the crib, putting him down, pushing his blanket ask. It was a hot day. No need to suffocate him with a blanket.
And as he stretched his numb arms, almost letting out a groan, he turned around.
Lily was standing there, by the door.
Face red, stricken with tears, her green eyes glassy with already spilled tears and tears that are willing to spill.
"Oh, honey," James walked over, slowly, embracing her in a warm hug, holding her head against his shoulder.
He didn't ask.
This wasn't uncommon. It was war, they were in the middle of a war, where their son is targeted. A war where people of Lily's birth specifically were targeted.
She let out a hitch, trying to hold down a sob, holding James as if she would fall if she didn't.
James didn't say anything, he just stood there, holding her, rubbing her back up and down.
They were in this together.
Through up and down.
Through sickness and health.
"Dumbledore--" she suddenly said, or tried to said, but the words choked between her sobs, and she let her head sink against James' shoulder, tears staining James' shirt, but he didn't mind.
It was alright.
They were in this together.
And they will be fine.
"Shhh," he whispered against her ear, "It will be alright."
"No..no..James--don't--you don't ge--"
"It will be alright."
"It isn't!"
"It will be."
"The Mckinnons are dead!" she spat out.
James froze, feeling his heart fall and his arms almost falling. Almost, but he kept them, he kept them around Lily. Maybe it was less-tighter than a second ago.
Marlene.
He doesn't know what to say. He just stared at what's in front of him--the hallway, in disbelief.
Marlene was dead?
"Wiped out! Dead!" Lily continued, her voice rising, holding into his back so tight, it felt like her fingers were digging inside him, "All of them! All of them!"
Including Marlene.
Marlene was dead.
'Me?! Getting killed?! Focus on yourself, old man. You're the one targeted,' she had once told him, when James was concerned about her reckless ambush once.
James slowly shook his head.
Marlene can't be dead.
Lily was crying out, loud, sobbing against him, and James had no idea what to do.
It was weird.
Marlene? Dead?
James had never knew a day without Marlene.
He'd grown up with her, doors next to each other. There was a point in their lives where they shared a bed.
Marlene, his sister, was dead.
And James can't do nothing about it but stare beyond the door of Harry's nursery.
Sudden cried erupted.
The two froze for a second.
Harry was awake, crying, calling out for anyone who's around.
Lily pulled away, wiping her already swollen eyes and brushing the sticky hair out of her face.
"I'll--I'll get him. It's alright."
James stopped her, grabbing her by the shoulder.
"I'll get him, don't worry," he said, trying to offer a smile, trying so hard.
But he couldn't.
It was heavy like lead.
The words itself were so heavy that they barely made it out of his mouth.
Lily shook her head, about to say something, but James stopped her.
"Can you go downstairs and make us some tea?" he said, "I'll be down when it's ready."
Lily hesitated for a moment, her eyes glancing between him and Harry, but then she nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, then she turned and left the room.
James walked over to the crib, and picked Harry up, his cries slowly fading as his father rocked him against his chest.
"Twinkle twinkle little star," he started, pacing around the room, "How I wonder what you are."
Marlene was dead.
Marlene, who was so good with kids, but haven't thought of having her own, was dead.
"Above above what so high, like a diamond in the sky,"
He forced himself to take a deep breathe, stopping right where he was, leaning against the wall behind him.
"Like a diamond in the sky."
He stopped, trying to blink away the tears, holding Harry closer to him.
"Twinkle twinkle litt--come on, mate, please get to sleep."
And the room suddenly went silent, except for James' heavy breathing as he slowly slid to the floor, his back still against the wall.
Marlene was dead.
Marlene, who still had a lot of adventures and activities to be ticked off her 'Life Bucket List', was dead.
Marlene, who remained by her mother's side despite her vile personality, was dead.
Marlene, who came over immediately when they needed her, was dead.
He held Harry tighter, closing his eyes, trying to hold it all together.
Marlene, who punched whoever mistreated Lily, was dead.
Marlene, who helped James pick up Lily's ring, was dead.
Marlene, who worshipped quidditch the same way James did, was dead.
Marlene, whom James had known ever since he could remember was dead, was dead.
Marlene Mckinnon, his sister next door, was dead.
And James can't do anything but sit there in silence, tears silently falling down his face.
"Dada?"
His glasses were sluggishly taken off. A pair of small and soft hands poking around his eyes.
"Dada?"
"H-hey buddy?" James looked up, pushing off his hands from his face, wiping his sniffing nose with his arm, "How about we get you to sleep?"
His face was blurry, between the tears and his shitty vision, but he was still here.
Again, Harry's little hands were on his face, and Harry rested his head against him, a little hug, the only thing his little self could give.
And a kiss.
A sloppy one, on the cheek.
It wasn't even a kiss. Just his lips pressing against James' cheeks. Attempting to give a kiss.
"Wawa?'' Harry asked, probably trying to ask if James was hurt.
James shook his head.
"Nope," James said, hugging Harry, "I'm not hurt."
He was fine.
"You know Aunt Marlene?"
"Cheey?"
"What?"
"Cheey?"
James pulled away, "What's cheey?"
"Cheey!" Harry said, "Cheey!"
"What's che--OHHH!"
He got it!
"You mean 'Cherry'?"
"Cheey!" Harry beamed.
More tears welled in his eyes.
Cherry.
Marlene ''Cherry'' Mckinnon.
It wasn't even her middle-name, not before she went to the ministry and officially changed her middle name from 'Margret' to 'Cherry'. Just her nickname that they kept around for a while.
"Did she teach you that?" James said, pulling his cheeks, "Sorry, mate, no more Aunt Cherry for us."
And just saying it, admitting it, caused something to crack within him.
A wet cry almost escaped him, but he held it down, biting on his lips, tears forming, not spilling.
And he hugged Harry.
So tightly, he held him so tightly against him.
His little baby.
He couldn't be next.
He couldn't follow Cherry.
Not now, not tomorrow.
The temperature on the fifth floor was abnormally cold, as equally cold as the dungeons, maybe even more.
And it was the middle of December.
Wonderfuckingful.
Before entering through the door, James adjusted the sleeves of his robes, taking a glance at his watch on the process.
12:59
Exactly a minute before the meeting would start.
The oak door opened as James pushed it, revealing a dozen of men and women sitting around a circular table, their eyes stuck at James, widened, as if they didn't expect him to arrive. But James was on time? Right?
"Good afternoon," James greeted, taking a quick look at the surroundings before spotting an empty seat.
Right next to Fudge.
Right opposite to Malfoy.
Yuck.
"Ahh, James!" Fudge let out a fake laugh, his eyebrow twitching, "We were informed that you wouldn't be coming this afternoon, given....today's disastrous news."
Before James could reply, Malfoy shifted in his seat, resting his back against his high chair, his blond hair shifting away from his face.
"Indeed, Mr. Potter," Lucius agreed, "The board was deeply distressed to read the headlines. To think that the friend who was responsible for the tragedy against your family is running free. You have my sincere condolences."
'Condolences? My ass.'
Yet, James didn't say a word, didn't even give an expression. Reminding himself of his one public-speaking rule.
If James was about to say something Minnie wouldn't approve of, then he'll keep it in his mouth.
So, instead, he met his grey eyes, giving a smile that didn't reach his hazel ones.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't think it matters right now," James responded, taking his seat, "Our current concern is the student's safety."
Greengrass leaned forward, her elbows on the table.
"The students had been sent earlier this year," she stated, "since the staff cannot to locate the said 'Chamber of Secrets'."
'How about you amuse us and find the chamber?'
"Believe me Mrs. Greengrass," intervened Albus, "The school had tried to locate the chamber for more than fifty years. We shall use the time students are away for for a floor-by-floor sweep."
'Thank you.'
"Except, the problem originates from somewhere else," Malfoy added, his gaze drifting from Albus to James, "or someone else."
James kept his face the same, playing along with his stupid little game.
"The Duelling Club incident cannot go unmentioned," he continued, "Salazar's language flowing out of the mouth of the Boy-Who-Lived? While muggle-born students are getting attacked?"
'Awww, you care about muggle-born students now? You obnoxious motherfucking asshole.'
"Absolutely right," James agreed, resting his elbows on the table " My son being a parsletongue in the middle of this chaos is quite suspicious."
"But," he continued, "Did it escape your mind that if he didn't, then a student might have been harmed?"
Malfoy didn't reply, and James took the silence as a sign to continue.
"Plus, the Heir of Slytherin, per the well-known story, believes in blood-supremacy," he added, "Harry is a half-blood, who's mother, whom he adores dearly, is a muggle-born, as well as his close friend, Ms. Granger."
"That does not explain why young Mr. Potter is a parseltongue," Macmillan said.
Well, no one knows why.
James shrugged.
"Unexpected, really," James said.
Totally unexpected, especially since there was none in Harry's lineage who was in Slytherin or was related to Salazar Slytherin.
"I would suggest adding some new rules for the sake of students' safety," Abbot said, "For example, students shouldn't wander alone on corridors, and walk together in groups."
Greengrass nodded, "I agree."
'Like if that wasn't discussed already.'
"As well as keeping dementors around the school perimeter," Lucius Malfoy suddenly said.
"Nope, get this out of your head," James waved it off.
This was not going to happen.
What if Sirius came here? Yeah, his animagi form would help him to not get caught, but there isn't a certainty.
Plus..
Harry.
Harry had a lot of, what can he say, unpleasant memories?
Last year alone was a disaster, and the Durselys themselves were much more than just a disaster.
"But James, you know that you and your son would be Black's first targets!" Fudge intervened, and James can't help but feel disgusted as his name was on his filthy tongue, "The dementors would only remain by the borders and wouldn't interfere with students' activities!"
Since when did they go by first-name basis?
Peter wouldn't dare to get to Harry. He had eleven years to do so, with James being absent for almost ten of them. If he didn't do it in a span of a decade, then he wouldn't do it anytime soon.
And Sirius will not attack Harry. It was the other way around.
"I'm well aware of this," James said, "but I'm also aware of the harm dementors can press on students. They're creatures with no brains that act on impulse. They cannot differentiate between innocent kids and criminals. Have you thoughts of the kids? How many of them had went under unbearable crisis? How would the dementors affect them?"
Fudge didn't say a word. Instead, his eyes darted from James to Albus, who was smiling, silently agreeing with James, and from Albus to James.
"And Black isn't stupid," James argued, "He would not immediately go after Harry, not when he knows he's in Hogwarts. You-Know-Who himself did not dare to step into Hogwarts with Albus here, so why should Black?"
James turned to Malfoy, "Have you checked within the past hiding spots? Perhaps by the Black's family property?"
"My wife had already provided the auror department with the necessary intel regarding this," Lucius responded.
Fudge nodded, "Yes, yes. We hadn't cleared them all yet."
"Remus Lupin?" James added, "He might be after him too."
"The aurors spoke to him too," Fudge said.
And James almost let out a sigh of relief.
They hadn't mentioned the animagi part yet.
So Remus did not say anything regarding it.
"We had also placed Dementors around Westermoland."
'Fuckass liar'
If he had really place dementors there, then the wards would've flared. James would've been notified.
It was just Fudge showing that he has things 'under control' as he claimed.
'Say something Minnie wouldn't yell at you for.'
'Say something Minnie wouldn't yell at you for.'
"Around my property?"
"Yes," Fudge said, "seeing that Black might be there."
"You placed dementors, around my property, without my knowledge?"
Seeing his face almost crumble, a cold sweat breaking on his temple, was priceless.
"We were in a rush, w-we had no time for that."
"I'm sure Mr. Malfoy could tell you about the legislation of such an action," James said, turning his eyes to Lucius, who had his jaw tightened, "Don't worry. Black wouldn't be there. He knows how powerful the strong the ancient wards of the Manor are."
This, was not a lie.
His father, Fleamont, didn't really like to force James to learn things he did not want to learn, like potions.
But there are a couple of stuff he did, stuff that he and his mother thought was necessary for him to learn.
Including those wards.
"He would look for small villages, lowlands, places with unsupervised floo network," James continued.
Macmillan cleared his throat, "Like Yoshiekre and the Black Forest?"
"The auror department is already ahead!" Fudge said, "They're already searching there, along with abandoned properties in Wales."
Perfect.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think this shall suffice for today," Albus stood up, and James had to stop himself from jumping over the table.
Board meetings were meaningless, just a couple of high-classed, rich folks pretending that they give a single fuck about the school, when it's just about their reputation and money.
The rest stood up, their chairs screeching against the wooden floor. James took his sweet time, determined to walk along with Malfoy, who was walking as an elegant princess waiting for her shining armour to pick her up. James trailed behind as he finally left through the door, humming a tune James knew that Malfoy wouldn't know.
We made our way along the river
And we sat down in the grass
By the Eiffel tower
I was so happy we had met
It was the age of no regret
Oh yes
Those crazy years, that was the time
"Anything I could help you with, Potter?" Malfoy stopped, his cane tapping against the wall as he slightly turned to face James, "You seem at a loss of words."
'You seem at a loss of honesty.'
"Oh yea, I'm quite am," James responded, his fingers tapping on his chin, as he hummed for a second, "You know, I'm just a poor man who got up from a decade in a coma and got no idea what was going on."
Malfoy didn't seem to bat an eye.
"I'm not sure if you could answer me though," James sighed, shaking his head, "Because how could you know how Voldemort had opened the Chamber of Secrets for the second time?"
His jaw tightened, but other than that, he didn't move.
"You're right, Potter, you've got no sense of what's going on," he said, or rather hissed, "Per common sense, You-Know-Who is dead."
"You-Know-Who is dead," James mimicked, his hands clamping together, mimicking his stupid mouth.
The he cleared his throat, "If I wanted to know. I will know. Whether that be today, or tomorrow, or next year, and you and your kind know that well."
The two stayed like that for a moment, staring into each other's souls. Not moving. Not blinking.
"Keep your feet in your lane, Potter," Malfoy spat, turning on his heels.
"You're speaking as if I wasn't a professional auror once!" James yelled out.
He should be the one staying in his lane! James' lane was making sure that Malfoy and his squad stayed on their lane!