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James Potter, Deputy Head Auror, pulled the chair away from the table, twisted it round and sat astride it. He leaned forward on the back support of his chair as he stared into the face of the suspect opposite.
Oh yes, he thought to himself. This one’s guilty. I can see it all over his face.
He’d built up an instinct for it, over the years. Not for nothing did he have the best clear-up rate in the department for the past three years running. Every single nerve in his body was telling him he’d got his man.
“So,” he began. “You know why we want to talk to you, right?”
“Umm…” stammered the suspect. “No?”
“Hmm,” James cocked his head on one side. “Sure about that?”
The suspect fidgeted awkwardly in his seat. “Yeah.”
“And yet, the evidence is there. Right in front of you,” Lily interjected, from where she was seated to his right. She gestured at Exhibit A on the table between them. “Are you sure there isn’t something you want to tell us?”
She’d been quiet up to this point, content to let him lead. As ever, she’d timed her intervention perfectly. James suppressed a smile. He didn’t get to work with his wife like this very often. It simply wasn’t necessary, which was obviously a good thing, but on the odd occasion where they did need to team up, it was such a pleasure - she always knew exactly what to say,and exactly when to say it.
“N—no.” The suspect’s eyes darted all around the room, looking anywhere and everywhere other than at James or Lily. Eventually, he settled on examining his fingernails.
He’s tougher to crack than I expected, thought James. I’m going to have to play my trump card. “The trouble is, we have compelling evidence that proves it was you.”
“But I didn’t!” His voice was so anguished that James’s heart cracked just a little, even though he knew it was all an act - it had to be.
Lily leaned forward, resting her elbows. Her expression was gentle, but her voice was firm. “Harry, love. We know it was you. You’ve got chocolate icing smeared all round your mouth.”
Seven-year-old Harry’s green eyes widened, and his chocolatey mouth opened and closed as he searched for some other explanation. His gaze settled on Exhibit A, the birthday cake with two prominent finger swipes through the frosting, then his shoulders slumped as he realised the game was up. Once the confession started, the words just came tumbling out of him.
“I’m sorry Mummy. And Daddy. I knew it was naughty but Uncle Sirius’s cake just looked so good. I thought no one would notice if I just tried a little bit of the icing. And then I didn’t own up because I didn’t want to get into trouble.”
The whole scene was very familiar to James, mostly because he’d been caught with his fingers in the cake (literally and metaphorically) more than a few times by his own parents. Everyone said how alike he and Harry were, and though James couldn’t usually see it himself, just a moment, he could really believe it. As he looked at his son, swinging his legs back and forth while he awaited his punishment, James realised that his eyes, so like Lily's, were filled with tears, and his heart completely melted.
“It’s okay, Harry,” he reassured him. “You’re right, the cake does look really good. Why don’t we all have a slice now, and you can help me make Uncle Sirius another one this afternoon.”
Harry’s face lit up, and James couldn’t help beaming back at him. “Yay!”
“But Harry?” added Lily. Her face was stern, but her own green eyes had a fond twinkle.
“Yes, Mummy?”
“Next time - just ask first!”