the Prongs Special
“James is needing to eat ,” Kreacher urged, pushing the plate closer to him.
“Kreacher, I really don’t want it right now,” he said, frustration seeping into his tone.
“He is being here eight hours and is not eating a thing,” he persisted.
He gritted his teeth, feeling his jaw ache, “Okay fine, I’ll eat it, you can go now,”
Kreacher stubbornly stayed there, staring him down, his small hands planted firmly on his hips.
He could feel his anger rising and he gave Kreacher one last scathing look, hating that he was tearing his attention away from the book in his hands. The elf raised his eyebrows in challenge and James whipped a hand out, overturning the plate and the tray beneath it, “I don’t want the fucking food Kreacher. Leave me alone.”
“Anger is not suiting James Potter,” he replied, unmoved. He was an elf used to living with the Blacks after all, James was sure nothing would throw him.
“You godsdamned shit-,” he seethed, standing up, his very bones vibrating with pent up energy. He hadn’t even realised his hands were clenched into fists until he felt his hands stinging and saw numerous little crescent moons from his nails digging into his palms.
Kreacher looked furious and he snapped his fingers, suddenly landing on Regulus’ bed and he reached over and pulled the locket from where it had been hanging around James’ neck, scratching his face with the force of it.
It felt like stepping into a warm space after being out in the cold, a shiver running up your body at the drastic change in temperature, the shock slowly fading into something softer. It was disorienting and James had to take a moment to recalibrate himself a bit. Everything seemed so much quieter.
“James is knowing not to put on the locket,” Kreacher chastised, hopping off the bed and putting the locket into a special box he found up in the attic that was meant to contain magic. He doubted it worked against the horcrux but it offered him some semblance of peace.
“I didn’t even realise I had it on.”
He was beginning to realise just how terrifying this horcrux was.
At first, he approached it like a magical experiment, sort of like brewing Polyjuice potion or becoming an Animagus but over time, it was as if the horcrux had taken control and he was the experiment. Hours would pass and he’d never realise it, he wouldn’t remember putting it on, only having Kreacher pull it off of him before he walked out of the house. He was senselessly angry and prone to lashing out for no reason at all with it on before coming back to his senses once it was off of him.
It spoke to him in low and hushed tones. Oftentimes, he couldn’t catch the words but every once in a while, a word drifted up through the ether, Regulus and lost and lonely and death . He heard death often in all iterations and languages, suffocating him with their weight.
A piece of Voldemort was trapped in this locket and he wondered if it was begging to be let out. He couldn’t tell if it was sentient, if Voldemort could feel him when he wore it, or whether he was completely detached to the thing.
“I’m sorry Kreacher,” he said, having apologised to him nearly a dozen times now, feeling ashamed at being so weak as to not be able to resist the horcrux’s allure.
“It is okay, James is not being used to dark magic,” he sighed, exasperated.
“How did Regulus deal with it? I mean- how did he not- go mad with it?” he asked stiltedly as images of Regulus, upset and volatile, flashed through him. Was that just how he was or was it the horcrux? It was getting harder and harder to parse through the actions of Regulus’ final days and what they could be attributed to.
“Who is to say Master Regulus did not?” he asked and James took it as a rhetorical, choosing not to go into that right now.
He stretched his back and Kreacher restored the plate to its previous state and he sheepishly accepted the sandwich, taking a bite as his stomach roared at being neglected.
“So tell me again how he even got a hold of that thing because I don’t imagine Voldemort was handing them out as party favours,” he said to Kreacher who, while overall compliant, had been tight lipped on that front.
He sat down in a rare display of familiarity, “It is being my fault.”
“Yours?” Sounded a bit self-important James thought- maybe he wanted to play the martyr.
“Voldemort is needing help hiding the horcrux and Master Regulus offered Kreacher to help because I am being very helpful and obedient,” he started, his features going a bit rueful as he reminisced about a simpler time. Like maybe if they had just stopped to think a little more, go back and change one thing, they wouldn’t be here right now. “So Kreacher went with Voldemort. He is wanting to hide his horcrux very far away and he-,” he paused then and a shudder ran through his small form.
His voice was grave as he continued, “He is hurting Kreacher very bad that day, playing with him, cursing him, but Master Regulus told Kreacher to follow him so he did. When he is being done he is apparating very far away, to a cave in the ocean. He is saying that Kreacher will hide the horcrux in there.
“When we is going inside the cave, we is needing to take a boat to an island being in the middle. When the boat is stopping, Voldemort ordered Kreacher to be drinking a poison and to put the locket in a cursed bowl and he is listening. The poison was hurting Kreacher very bad,” his voice broke, “But Kreacher is faithful and is continuing.”
James felt his stomach bottom out and his heart thump viciously in his chest. It was getting dark and with none of the wall sconces being lit, James had the distinct feeling that the shadows gathering in the corners were watching him with hungry eyes. He hugged his knees to his chest, his appetite disappearing entirely.
“When Kreacher is done hiding the locket, he is turning around to leave but Voldemort is leaving without him…he is leaving Kreacher to die in the waters around the island. The waters is having cursed Inferi inside and they were wanting to take Kreacher.
“But Master Regulus,” a tear slipped from his eye, “Master Regulus is ordering Kreacher to come home no matter what and Kreacher will always follow his master. Kreacher is coming home and Regulus is telling Kreacher to tell him what happened and my master, defender of the house-elves, is being outraged of his elf’s treatment.
“He is making it his mission to end Voldemort and he is stealing the horcrux, giving the real one to Kreacher and hiding a fake one in the Cave.”
His blood had slowed to pool in his veins while his head felt like it had been dunked underwater, icy realisation washing over him.
This was the truth he had been after for months, years really, if he thought about it.
All the days he spent researching, the books he’d read, the fights he’d had with Kreacher and himself had culminated to this moment. Though it paled in comparison to the work Regulus had done because at least James had a guide to help him along while Regulus had started from rock bottom and trudged this path alone, figuring it out as he went.
Regulus is the one who learned about horcruxes, researched them, and he sacrificed his life in pursuit of them just to give the locket to Kreacher who didn’t know a damn thing about how to get rid of it.
He had walked towards his death for absolutely no reason at all and the cognizance of that almost hurt too much to grasp.
“So he died then? In that cave?”
Kreacher nodded somberly though they now both knew otherwise. It was almost as if they referred to Regulus as some other person that had died and done all this work because the new version of him was too far removed from all of this.
James went over some clarifying details with Kreacher, having him regale the story again but this time with James’ questions peppered in.
“So how much time passed between the time you gave Regulus the fake locket and you apparated away?” he asked.
He seemed a bit lost, “Kreacher is imagining it is being ten, fifteen minutes. Kreacher was begging Master Regulus to come with him but he is not coming with me. Kreacher left then. He was still having hope that his Master would be coming back home but he is never doing so.”
“Kreacher… could you have taken Regulus back home after the lockets were switched out?” he asked quietly and he almost wished he could take back the words because having his suspicions be confirmed might almost hurt too much.
He nodded.
James didn’t often think of himself as a selfish person, some considered him so unselfish that it was almost problematic, and yet in that moment, all he could think about was himself .
Was he not worth living for?
“James, you need to come back home, I’m worried about you,” Remus said from the opposite mirror clutched in his hand.
“No,” was all he could say as he took another swig from the bottle held in his other hand.
“I can’t keep lying for you- everyone’s been wondering where you’ve been,” he urged, his amber eyes pleading.
“I’m on. A mission.”
“Fine, forget about them, I’m worried about you- you shouldn’t be alone right now,” he murmured.
“I can’t fucking go back there Remus-” his voice broke as he choked on unshed tears, “I can’t pretend like everything is okay. You can’t make me do that- make me- pretend like he was nothing .”
“I’m not asking you to,” he whispered.
“And I can’t pretend like he didn’t matter to me, like he’s just my fucking,” he choked on his own spit, “best friend’s brother.”
“I know that James, god, of course I do but I don’t want something to happen to you either, just because he’s gone doesn’t mean…” he trailed off sadly, the lines in his face deepening, his pale scars standing out starkly in the low light. James couldn’t tell where he was, some safehouse probably.
“That I shouldn’t die either? Well it sure as fuck feels like I should,” he replied bitterly with a rueful curl of his lips.
He looked down to the floor, at the shards of glass of the mirror he had broken not more than an hour ago and caught a glimpse of his reflection.
He barely recognised himself.
“Regulus’ memorial has been set for this weekend,” Remus said suddenly.
The words, the wrongness of them, the way they struck against each other oddly because James couldn’t possibly imagine ‘Regulus’ and ‘memorial’ next to each other made him want to scream.
His hands clenched around the mirror.
“Will you be there?”
He didn’t reply.
“I’m giving you three more days, if you’re not back I’m going to find you and drag you back home where you belong,” he said, though not unkindly.
“Yeah right,” he scoffed. He took another drink.
“Don’t test me,” was all he said before ending the connection.
And this time he did scream, chucking the mirror at the opposite wall, watching as it broke into a million sharp pieces, mixing with the already broken mirror pieces around it. He buried his face in his hands as he curled his knees up to his chest, tossing aside the empty bottle of alcohol.
He was alone in this cottage, some random property owned by his father that he escaped to as no one else even knew it existed. He didn’t even know it existed until his father’s solicitor came by after he passed and handed him the keys and the deed.
Regulus was dead.
Dead dead dead.
James wanted to die.
If Regulus walked through the door at that moment, he would’ve immediately sobered up and felt leagues better because Regulus gave him that drive to get up every day which was especially hard as that was around the time that the war started building, taking over their world inch by inch.
At the time he just assumed Voldemort had killed him, as was the general narrative spread by the newspapers as well but here was Kreacher, telling him the entire story, rewriting everything he thought he knew.
“And just to confirm, there was no one else there?”
Kreacher shook his head.
It begged the question as to what happened to Regulus that made him lose his memories? He couldn’t even have Obliviated himself because he would have no way of leaving the cave then. Sometimes more answers just led to more questions.
“Alright,” he said simply because what else was there to say? He picked his book back up and rerouted the conversation, “So what have you tried so far in destroying the horcrux?” That was the only logical next step- to get rid of this damned thing because Kreacher and Regulus seemed hell-bent on it.
The elf nodded, “Kreacher is trying all of the ingredients in the Potions lab. He is making all kinds of explosive, incendiary, and dark potions and is being unsuccessful. He is trying some hexes and curses but that is also not affecting the locket.”
James reached over and scratched ‘Potions’ off the parchment where he had been futilely making a list of all of the possible ways he could destroy a horcrux- this wasn’t exactly something they were taught in school, though he probably wouldn’t have paid attention anyways.
“How did Voldemort even find out about horcruxes? I mean there’s hardly any information about them and I doubt it would just be lying around for anyone to find,” he frowned. “Do you know his name or anything about him?” He had to have been an Unspeakable or something before the war to have this sort of knowledge.
“Kreacher is not knowing, Voldemort is only being called Voldemort ,” he said, “Or the Dark Lord,” he added belatedly.
“Yeah but he wasn’t always that.”
____________
“Mr. Potter, I’m glad to see you’re well, it’s been quite some time since I received a letter from you. I’ll admit I was starting to get a bit worried,” Dumbledore laughed lightly as he settled on the sofa.
“Yes well, if you were so worried you could’ve sent a letter, an owl works two ways,” he said then with false ease continued with, “Anyhow I’m glad we get to meet again.”
They sat across from each other, tension hanging low like fog in the air, giving eachother sickly sweet and serene smiles. James clenched his teeth to hold all of his unsaid words at bay.
“I wanted to ask you a few questions that I couldn’t send over owl,” James said and while that was true, what he didn’t say was the fact that he needed to catch the old man off-guard, not allowing him a chance to come up with redirects and false confusion or to simply ignore his missive altogether.
“Of course,” he said, gesturing with a hand for him to continue.
“What’s Voldemort’s real name?” he asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.
He could visibly see surprise flit over his face. Someone that had never met the man before might’ve missed it but James saw it- the slight raise of his brows, the twitch of his beard, the widening of his eyes behind his spectacles.
“Why do you ask such a question?” he retorted, refolding his hands in his lap, adjusting.
“I was just thinking more of the man that wants to kill my son and thought it might be better if we were on more even ground y’know?”
They both waited for the other to speak, James to elaborate, Dumbledore to answer. In the end, the old wizard answered first.
Hesitation was laced into his every word, “His name was Tom.”
“Tom…?” he pushed.
“His name was Tom Riddle,” he sighed. A chill entered the room, like just saying his name brought with it a ghost.
“Tom Riddle,” he repeated, tasting the words, “And he was once your student? I mean, most English people do attend Hogwarts.”
Dumbledore didn’t respond but that was an answer in itself- James was sure he didn’t want to admit to having a hand in creating that monster.
“Did you ever- I mean, might you have predicted that this is what he would end up like?” he said but he wanted to instead grab the man by the shoulders and shake him, asking how he had missed the signs because surely there had to be some.
“I pay attention to all of my students so of course I saw signs but that is all they were at the time. No one could imagine their own student would be capable of such…destruction.”
“Surely you don’t pay attention to all of your students- that would be impossible,” he smiled painfully, plaster cracking across his well-placed mask.
“No no I do, it serves well to keep a close eye on things,” he corrected.
“Well you didn’t with Tom Riddle.”
The time for false niceties were gone and it was clear that James was taking this as a grudge match.
“I knew what he was capable of, I just didn’t foresee him pursuing it.”
Then, because he couldn’t help it, “You didn’t pay attention to Regulus.”
Dumbledore leaned back a little then, “I'm afraid I don’t know what you mean?”
“Well I’m just saying- he and Sirius went through a lot at home. Sirius got out, Regulus didn’t, I’m sure if you paid attention to him then maybe he could’ve received some help too.”
“Mr. Potter, I-.”
“James, I believe we’re on a first name basis by now aren’t we? Albus?” James asked.
Albus bristled a bit by that but moved past it quickly enough, “ James , is there a real purpose to why you’ve called me here or was it simply to ruminate on issues I thought we had moved past?” His patience was wearing thin and the sheer authority he put into his tone caused James to feel a bit chastised, like he was talking back to his dad after already being naughty.
“Has The Order made any moves? Do you need help, I’m sure Lily and I could-.”
“No, no we’re quite alright, you three shouldn’t worry yourself too much and just focus on Harry,” he said genially before standing up and straightening his robes, clearly ending the conversation. “Well I shouldn’t take up too much of your time.”
“Right,” James muttered under his breath as Dumbledore headed to the door, making to leave.
“I brought this for you,” he pulled a tin from some pocket in his robes, “Do try to be patient and please, use another form of communication should you need to speak to me unless it is urgent.”
He apparated away right from their doorstep.
James opened the tin expecting to find something of use, something to help “hold them over” or “grant them patience” and was incensed to find that it was simply a tin of sweets- chocolate frogs and sugar quills packed all on top of each other and haphazardly shoved into some tin he must’ve found lying around.
James vanished it and slammed the door shut.
____________
“So, do you ever plan on telling me what it is you’re doing these days?” Lily asked one night, walking right into his room, chewing on a piece of fruity gum- a newfound obsession of hers once she had moved past her licorice phase.
“What?” he asked, sitting up straighter in his bed, putting the book he’d borrowed from the shop aside- it was some creepy thing written by a Stephen King called The Shining .
“Are you aware what time it is?” she asked.
He wasn’t actually, he straightened his glasses and saw that it was 2:46 in the morning. Bloody hell…
“Oh yeah I s’pose it is getting quite late,” he mumbled.
“Yeah it is James but you don’t seem to notice do you?” she crossed her arms, her face twisting as she ran her eyes over him. “Did you eat dinner?”
“I- er- I did a full shift today at the cafe but so I had a bite there.” The lies were coming so naturally now that he barely needed a second to think about them.
“That’s funny because I stopped at the shop today at 4PM right after I dropped Harry off at Madam’s and you weren’t there- in fact, you had left hours before at the end of your morning shift like usual.”
James opened his mouth but she just continued,
“Then I thought you might be with Regulus but you weren’t because he was still at the cafe too.
“And I don’t need to stalk you or track you because I trust you but there comes a point James because you’re not eating- I don’t know if you’ve noticed but all of your clothes are like two sizes too big-, you’re hardly ever home except when you have to be to watch Harry the two, maybe three, days I need you out of the week. You’re barely here even when you are here, I mean, if you said you were fighting a war I’d believe you, hell , I’ve seen what you look like during a war and you look worse now than you did then.”
“Gee thanks Lils, tell me how you really feel,” he groaned.
“Is it drugs? Alcohol?”
“Gods no,” he rushed out, “Of course not.”
“Clubs? Bars? Gambling? What’s your vice?” she continued unapologetically.
It was clear that the anger directed towards him now wasn’t what it usually was.
Usually, Lily was razor sharp- her anger direct and pointed. She knew what she was upset about and ensured the object of her ire was aware of it but now she was vague and all-encompassing, throwing out barbs and seeing where they struck.
She didn’t come out and say ‘Where have you been lately?’ or ‘Tell me what it is you’re out doing because I don’t appreciate secrets’ but rather she was just throwing out accusations and seeing what it was he would admit to. It was better to cast a wide net and see what one trapped rather than keep aiming for one fish in an entire sea of them.
“No, no I don’t have one,” he tried, feeling like he was being tried for a crime in front of the Wizengamot.
“James, I don’t want to keep doing this,” she said, her face scrunching up, her chin trembling as she pressed her lips together in a futile attempt to stop it.
“I’m not doing anything bad ,” he scrambled out of bed, the sheets trailing to the floor after him as he crossed the room, “I’m just going out-.”
He didn’t know what to say.
He knew this would all come to a head but it was a worry that he kept tucked away in the back of his mind, further buried down by the horcrux and the rush and thrill and questions it provided him with.
It was like running into on-coming traffic and somehow expecting to avoid every car that came rushing towards you. It was futile and nonsensical and he wasn’t sure how to stop it now that he was suddenly trapped in the middle of the road and a car was about to barrel him down.
“We’re young, I’ve always known that and two people being stuck together for years on end- it’s not an easy thing to deal with-,” she continued sadly and James couldn’t figure out why this was sounding more like a goodbye than anything else. “- but I can’t keep doing this.”
“What are you saying?” he asked, reaching a hand out to grasp her but she turned away. The fact that she would rather stare at an empty corner in the room than him was enough to wrench the air out of him.
“There’s another flat in this building that’s gone up for sale, I think I’m going to take it,” she stated.
“Lily come on now, that’s insane , you can’t possibly-.”
Her green eyes pinned him to the spot, his bones turning to stone as she straightened, her whole body shaking with restraint, “You want to know what’s insane James? We are in the middle of a shitstorm and you were my one goal post to hold onto, I thought we’d be able to weather it together but clearly we can’t.
“You are chasing after something that is long fucking gone now. The wizarding world is not for us anymore okay? And while I’ve been getting used to being here, you clearly can’t assimilate. You are out at all hours, you’re doing shady shit without telling anyone, and you’ve already broken the few fucking rules we had for what? Regulus? I’m happy you have him back but again, it’s not actually him goddammit and trying to fix him isn’t going to change anything. He was meant to be dead, what are you really bringing him back into? The death eaters? Is that what he would’ve wanted, you think?
“When were you going to tell me that Dumbledore came over?”
She was talking so fast that her breaths were coming out in pants and her cheeks reddened, “I can’t deal with this. I hate not knowing where you are and I love you but I can’t live like this anymore. We’ve ascertained that we are safe here so I don’t see the need to stay chained together like this- I’m worrying myself mad just wondering where you are and you always come back safe and then I just start wondering where you’ve been but everytime I ask, I just get a shit lie in reply.
“I can rely on you when it comes to Harry and that is all I ask.”
She left before he could even get a word in edgewise and panic and terror gripped his throat, twisting. He lunged for the door, pulling it open, but she had already escaped to her room, her door snapping locked.
Knocking on the door, he begged, “Lily open the door. Can we please just talk? ”
He was met with silence.
She must’ve been sitting on this for a while for everything to come out like this. His absence tonight was the final crack and now the dam exploded and he was left without a raft to keep him afloat.
He came to the sour and bitter realisation that he couldn’t even be upset at her.
Lily was telling the truth , her version of it that is. He had been getting worked up over everyone else lying to him that he realised lying was comfortable- it was easy, and it kept things tension free, well at least until the truth came out. Lily was telling him the harsh and ugly truth, free of platitudes and showing him that yes, actions did have consequences and he was reaping them.
Second, it was his own damn fault. She was right in all of it- the living in the past, the chasing after something that he might never give back, the lying to her, the not being present thing.
They weren’t living the lives of normal twenty-something year olds and it was high time James came to terms with that.
He dropped to his feet outside her bedroom door, sitting in the hallway, not having the energy to go back to his empty room or go anywhere else.
Silence blanketed him and he dropped his head into his hands, controlling his breathing, and urging his weeping heart not to break any further.
____________
“Bombarda!”
He created a crater in the ground and yet the locket still held strong and untouched in the centre of it.
It was infuriating how indestructible it was. It truly was impenetrable to even the most minute scratches- James would know because before trying large blasting spells, he tried scratching at it with some knife he found in a display case on the third floor of Grimmauld and he hadn’t been able to leave a single mark behind.
The garden of Grimmauld wasn’t very big so once he took the locket out of the ditch he created, he remedied the hole to try something else. It was also because Kreacher informed him that before Sirius left, he told him that they would be using Grimmauld as a makeshift headquarters for The Order seeing as it was ‘empty’ and a giant hole in the ground wasn’t very explainable.
They were both displeased with the idea of it- Kreacher not wanting random wizards traipsing all throughout the house and James because it was interfere with his usual comings and goings in the house as it would be terribly inconvenient if he just strolled in and came face to face with everybody while they were in the middle of tea.
That morning, James woke up in the hallway, his neck bent at an odd angle and back painfully shouting at him but there was a blanket draped over his lap and a note on the counter from Lily stating that she was going to go to the park with Harry and getting some groceries on her way back.
He ended up at Grimmauld because there was nowhere else for him to go on the days he didn’t have work and he wasn’t quite ready to face Lily just yet, terrified of what that would bring.
“Kreacher is telling James he is already having tried that,” Kreacher pointed out from behind him.
“Yes, well it was worth a try,” he carped.
“James is being upset today, why?” he asked, coming up to him with a glass of cold water that he crouched down and drank in one go.
“Well I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m here kind of like, all the time, and I can’t tell anyone else about this horcrux stuff or what I’m doing so Lily’s upset at me for keeping these secrets and acting different and all that other business. It’s getting hard to juggle everything I guess,” he admitted.
“James is really needing to go home,” the old elf advised.
“Er- I’m literally trying to help you do your life’s work and take down Voldemort, I would imagine you would be in support of that.”
The elf gave him a level look, “Kreacher is knowing what happens when a wizard is getting obsessed with the horcrux. Kreacher watched it happen with Master Regulus- he is fighting with mistress, his friends is being upset with him, he is not being leaving his room. Then Kreacher watched his master die because of it. Kreacher is not wanting James to die either.”
Then the most shocking thing of all happened- Kreacher placed his hand on James’ shoulder.
“You really are an amazing elf y’know that?” he smiled and Kreacher twisted his mouth in what could be considered a smile…vaguely…with one eye closed…in the dark.
“I mean what if you just Avada’d it,” James suggested a little while later as the two of them occupied the Library- James reading, Kreacher dusting.
“James can be trying but if it is being impenetrable, Kreacher does not think the Avada is strong enough to do it,” he shrugged, as he hovered books on and off shelves so he could give the wood under it a thorough cleaning.
“The question of whether or not it’ll do anything is up for debate but it is a strong curse, I mean, it’s literally an Unforgivable ,” he said and he expected Kreacher to agree but he just made a noncommittal noise, ruminating on the apparently controversial topic James hadn’t realised he’d even brought up.
“Unforgivable curses are not even being a real thing, it is wizards making up labels,” he countered.
“Well Kreacher, they’re Unforgivable for a reason. I mean, they’re horrible and violent spells proven to be of dark magic which can eat at your soul, I would say that's reason enough not to use them.” He registered that he was coming off a bit ‘holier than thou’ and Dumbledore-ish in his argument but it was hard not to.
Though he still was all-for the use of them in times of war, it was just in normal day-to-day life that he thought them truly unforgivable.
“Why is the Killing Curse being worse than levitating someone off a cliff? Why is the Cruciatus curse so dangerous when you can be casting a Bombarda at someone? All spells can be being dark if a wizard is clever enough.”
And with that, he left him alone once more.
Gods, he has had enough of these moral dilemmas.
____________
He didn’t see Lily again the following morning though he knew that would be the case. A little while ago, one of the students she tutors in English’ mum mentioned that she wanted to get her daughter started on piano lessons but she was tremendously shy and Lily mentioned that she grew up playing the piano. One turned to two and now on weekends, she was a piano instructor as well.
Lily had always liked staying busy so this routine was natural for her and it meant on weekend mornings, when the Cafe was always at its busiest, Harry went to Madam Gaultier who was all too happy to take in Harry. James grew wary when the day would come to retrieve Harry only to find out she’d taken him and run. It must be the green eyes- everyone was a sucker for them.
He worked in companionable silence with Marc, enjoying the predictable monotonous pace for the day as he mixed syrups and frothed milk and tried and failed to not spill coffee grounds all over the bar.
Then, as the time ticked closer to lunch, a rush had started to pile up in the shop- co-workers sitting at tables to gossip, students grabbing a pastry for their lunch, or at least that’s what James hoped as they very well could have been bunking, and groups of women met together to chat.
James was working quickly but his groove was broken up by a nervous looking young boy coming up to the counter. He appeared to be alone and he had mousy brown hair and bright blue eyes and for a moment, he reminded James of Peter.
When James asked what he wanted, he gave him a nervous toothy smile, “Er- I’m not sure what I want…could you surprise me please?”
“Course I can,” James replied and got to thinking.
He started with making a caramel macchiato which was pretty standard and as that was going, he made sure to prepare an extra shot of espresso. He grabbed a cup and lined the inside with hazelnut and cinnamon- a nice warm touch for the still- cold weather outside then dumped all the liquid inside. He grabbed a canister of whipped cream and piled it high then, once he decided that was still too plain, he sprinkled some cocoa powder and added a single coffee bean right on top. It was tooth-rottingly sweet and full of caffeine and it was everything James could have wanted in a drink.
He served it to the boy then, “Try it and let me know what you think- I can always remake it if you’re not sure.”
The boy nervously grabbed it and looking away from James, he took a tentative sip and his eyes widened as his brows raised, “This is- it’s amazing ,” he said, “What’s it called?”
He smirked and leaned over the counter, “It’s the Prongs special.”
He stared at the drink in amazement, “Thank you,” he grinned and added a couple extra dollars to the tip jar.
Once he left Marc came over, “The Prongs Special? Really?”
“Hey it’ll catch on, you just wait and see,” he tutted.
“Yeah, that’s what Regulus thought would happen with the mushroom latte and look how that turned out.”
James rolled his eyes- the mushroom latte was disgusting, the Prongs Special however, was revolutionary.
It was nice to know he could atleast do one thing right.