Chapter 13
James
He is at his parents’ house, sitting on the windowsill and looking out at the garden where his mum is planting purple irises and iridescent tulips. It’s spring, so the window is open, and a warm air is blowing in his face as he waves at Euphemia and catches her soft smile.
James loves to be at home. It’s the place full of joyful moments, a place full of apple pies on Christmas and sweet tea in the summer, a place full of his dad’s jokes and his mum’s favourite songs, a place full of love. There’s nowhere else James would rather be.
His dad is reading a newspaper on the porch swing, adjusting his glasses and occasionally taking sips of his morning coffee. Fleamont always growls at James’ and Euphemia’s habit to add milk, claiming that it alters the taste of the drink and is simply pernicious. James and Euphemia in their defense call Fleamont a bully for not letting the two of them enjoy their coffee the way they like it. Of course, no one takes any of this serious. This is just the Potters’ nature: teasing is an essential form of love for them.
'Morning, dad,' James pats Fleamont on the shoulder as he steps outdoors. The day is too good to be wasted within the four walls of his room.
'Morning, lad. Sleep well?' Fleamont asks raising the cup to his mouth.
'T'was okay. Anything interesting happening in the world?' James wonders.
Fleamont averts his gaze from the newspaper in his hands and looks at James slyly, a playful smile on his lips.
'Nothing as interesting as your mum working in the garden all alone.'
James smirks.
'Shall we help her, sir?'
'Indeed,' Fleamont exclaims. 'What kind of men are we if we don’t help our damsel in distress?'
'Very bad men,' James shakes his head in disapproval.
'Awful men,' his dad sighs.
'Disrespectful men,' James adds.
Fleamont puts away the newspaper and finishes his coffee, holding back laughter. James looks at him wonderingly, his head tilted to the right as he awaits his dad’s next words.
'You’re right, son. We ought to go and save her from boredom.'
'Yes, sir,' James salutes and springs to the flowerbeds where Euphemia is sitting pensively, picking over flower seeds in her hands.
'Hey, mum,' James leaves a quick kiss on her cheek.
'Hi, love,' Euphemia laughs. 'What are you doing here?'
'Dad and I decided that you need our help.'
'Very considerate of you, my boys,' she smiles in approval. 'Where’s your dad, by the way?'
'Right here!' Fleamont says in a high-pitched voice, piling on James and Euphemia with a tight hug. They fall to the ground, their limbs intertwined and their stomachs stinging from laughter.
'Alright, alright, as much as I love the two of you, we need to plant these seeds by afternoon, so get off your asses and get to work,' Euphemia says as James and Fleamont keep on throwing rubber gloves at each other.
'Boys!' she says loudly, trying to get their attention, but neither James nor his dad get off the ground, keeping on play-fighting.
Euphemia sighs, picks up a hose and points it in their direction, water splashing all over James and Fleamont, causing them to get up in a rush.
'Mum, stop!'
'Love, what was that for?'
Euphemia puts the hose aside and looks at them cunningly.
'We can’t go to the seaside this year, so the sea is coming to you. Should’a thanked me, you two,' she laughs.
James rolls his eyes and Fleamont throws his arms around his wife, her shirt getting wet.
'It’s only fair if you experience some of the sea power yourself, baby,' he smiles smugly.
James laughs at the sight of his parents, squeezing his damp hair and reaching for the seeds spread all over the ground.
Fleamont heads back to the house to change, so James asks his mum whether he should start with the tulips or irises.
'It’s up to you, love. I trust your choice completely.'
James examines the seeds carefully once again and eventually picks up the ones he likes the most.
'D’you mind if I start with the orange tulips?'
'Not at all.'
'Then orange tulips it is,' James states.
He tears off the seed packet carefully, taking a handful of them and placing them into a hole. Just as he’s about to cover it with the soil, Euphemia gently touches his arm and makes him look up at her.
'Love, is anything bothering you?' she asks him, searching for something in his eyes.
James stops moving, holding his breath for a couple of seconds and hesitating whether to tell her the truth.
'You won’t be mad if I tell you?'
'Jamie, there’s nothing you can say to me that can ever make me mad at you,' she smiles softly, her hand stroking his hair.
'I think I—'
James never gets to finish whatever he wanted to say, as someone’s screaming interrupts him right in the middle.
'LET ME SEE HIM, FOR MERLIN’S SAKE! LET ME SEE HIM JAMES! JAMES! CAN YOU HEAR ME?'
Euphemia’s silhouette begins to fade, and all James can see is a few shadows hanging over him, not letting any light through. He feels like he’s under a hot blanket blocking the air from him, and his breath is heavy because of the lack of oxygen.
Red fire tongues start spreading over him like ivy leaves, he can smell burned flesh and when he looks at his arms, he can see his own bones. James tries to scream, he wants to ask someone to put the fucking blanket away, to put out the goddamn fire, but when he opens his mouth, no words come out. He’s trapped inside his own body, he can’t move and he can’t speak. He can only feel excruciating pain, and he can’t do anything to stop it. James tries to open his eyes but fails, fear gripping him tight and not letting him think of anything else.
A few seconds later he wakes up. First he can’t understand where he is, his eyesight clouded and his mind still in a state of awakening.
James notices a tall curly-haired figure trying to reach to him but met with resistance and forced to leave. Sirius, James thinks. Why aren’t they letting Sirius in?
James tries to lift his head from the pillow but it’s very heavy so he moans, and all eyes are immediately on him.
'He’s awake,' he hears a woman say. Her voice reminds him of someone but he can’t quite remember of whom.
'Everyone, leave, now! Professor McGonagall, you can wait until he fully wakes up. His thoughts may be vague at the moment due to the potion but I suppose he’ll be okay within the next 10-15 minutes.'
'I’M STAYING, YOU CAN’T THROW ME AWAY!' James hears Sirius shout.
'Mister Black, you may stay if you will, but I shall ask you to keep quiet.'
'It only took you an hour to agree to it,' he hisses.
James tries to adjust to the sounds and colours around him, figuring that he’s in the hospital wing and the familiar voice he heard belongs to Madam Pomfrey. But why is he in the hospital wing?
He thinks of his parents in the garden in his dream and wishes he were at home right now. He suddenly realises how much he actually misses his mum and dad and decides to send them a letter as soon as possible.
'James, do you hear me?' Madam Pomfrey asks worryingly.
'Yes. Should I not?' he replies.
Sirius smirks on the side of his bed, and Professor McGonagall clicks her tongue.
'It’s a good sign you’re making jokes, young man,' Madam Pomfrey smiles. 'Considering your state, well…' she murmurs.
'What happened?' James asks. He isn’t in pain at all, all of the feelings of burning in his dream seem to be nothing but a nightmare. He feels very weak, though, as if he were running for miles and his legs gave out at once. But he wasn’t running. He was playing Quidditch, and he’s never felt this exhausted after a match.
Three pairs of guilty eyes look at him hesitantly. Professor McGonagall takes a sip of water from her glass, and Madam Pomfrey starts checking his bandages, pretending to not have heard the question.
James looks helplessly at Sirius who just shakes his head slightly and averts his gaze from James, staring at his hands as he picks on the skin around his nails.
'It’s my fault, James,' he whispers. 'I—I’m so sorry.'
James furrows his eyebrows. What is Sirius even apologising for?
'Mulciber and— and Avery— with Snape— they threw fireballs at you. And me. Marlene managed to drag me down, and she tried to warn you but— it was too late. I’m so, so sorry,' Sirius murmurs, his eyes closed and his hands folded into a fist, like he’s trying to calm himself down.
'But Sirius—'
'That’s enough,' Professor McGonagall cuts in. 'Mister Black, thank you for your service. Mister Potter, we have notified your parents about your— condition,' she sighs. 'Poppy, can you please explain mister Potter the extents of his injuries?'
Madam Pomfrey stops fussing at once, looking at Minerva for a double check and, receiving a quick nod, breathes out heavily and starts talking.
'Well, mister Potter,' she starts, biting her lip. 'You got off pretty easily, to be honest. I have no idea how, but the only severe burn you got is the one on your left bicep. Apart from that, we have concussion, a broken leg, and a couple of broken ribs. Don’t worry, I fixed them already. I gave you a potion earlier - you were unconscious so I reckon you don’t remember it - so the pain should be dulled,' Madam Pomfrey finishes, sharing a glance with Professor McGonagall.
'It’s good, isn’t it?' James clarifies. 'I mean, it could’ve been much worse, yeah?'
'James, you could’ve been dead”, Sirius whispers. 'They don’t know how you— that was a dark fucking curse.'
'Mister Black, language, if you please,' Professor McGonagall says. 'Yes, mister Potter. The severity of this situation can’t be underestimated. All the three Slytherin students responsible for casting the spell will be punished accordingly.'
'You mean, sent to Azkaban, right?' Sirius asks, squinting his eyes.
'I don’t want you to get your hopes up, mister Black,' she sighs.
'What do you—'
'Sirius,' James interferes. 'Let’s deal with that later.'
'But James—'
'Please. I don’t want to think of them now, I just want my best friend to hold my hand and tell me it’ll be fine.'
Sirius purses his lips into a thin line and moves closely to James, putting his hand into James’ open palm and squeezing it slightly.
'Okay,' he says quietly. 'I’m here and you’ll be okay.'
When James wakes up, it’s dark, and the only source of light in the room is from the bed lamp, brought by Sirius and placed on the nightstand next to James’ bed.
Sirius himself is sleeping in the chair, his and James’ fingers still intertwined. James smirks and withdraws his hand, reaching for a glass of water.
He still can’t remember how exactly everything happened. He remembers Marlene shouting Sirius’ name, and then his, but that’s all. The only fire he keeps seeing in front of his eyes is that from his dream.
He’s kind of glad he can’t remember a damn thing about the whole incident. He doesn’t think he’d cherish those memories anyway. James tries to bring himself to being mad at Mulciber, Avery, and Snape, but he can’t. He just doesn’t care. Is he alive? Yes. Is Sirius alive? Yes. That’s all that matters to him at the moment.
James thinks of his parents. How worried are they…? He hopes Professor McGonagall didn’t tell them he had been on the verge of death. After all, he really is okay.
And then, he remembers: Regulus. The reason of his recent worries and sleepless nights.
James decides that he needs to see him rightnow.
He has neither his invisibility cloak nor the marauder’s map, having left them both at the dorm. And there is no guarantee that even if James manages to reach the Tower undetected, Regulus will be there. But James takes his chances.
He pulls off the blanket, hangs his legs off the bed and starts looking for his shoes. Finding them, he puts them on and stands on his feet, cursing as he leans on his left leg. Madam Pomfrey said she fixed his broken bones but it still fucking hurts.
James throws a quick look at sleeping Sirius and leaves as quietly as he can, his legs leading him instinctively to the Astronomy Tower. He thinks he’s memorized the route so well that he could get there with his eyes closed, though he doesn’t check his theory. James’ left arm starts stinging and he hisses, fixing the bandage on his bicep, still reluctant to take a look at the burn. The door to the Tower is ajar, James notices quick movements in the room, and a mop of black hair shows within his sight. Taking a deep breath in and out, he knocks on the door, puts a huge smile on his face and comes in without waiting for Regulus’ response.