There’s No Room For You Here
Chapter 3, March 27th 1979: There’s No Room For You Here
“I think he’s going to make it after all,” Poppy said. “Thank Merlin, there’s practically no blood replenishing potion left.”
Lily nodded. They were both exhausted. The spells that augmented the effects of the Blood Replenishing Potion were arduous and involved repeated casting over the thorax and abdomen. Then they had carefully turned him onto each side to repeat the process.
“Why is he still twitching? I know it can last up to twenty minutes after the Cruciatus, but he hasn’t stopped moving for the past hour,” Poppy added.
The poor man. No!He was a Death-Eater.He deserved everything he got, she told herself. Knowing as she did how painful the Cruciatus was, how could she not feel sorry for another human being? But hadn’t Severus done this too, told her how much she meant to him, that they would always be best friends, only to call her a Mudblood, throw in his lot with Voldemort? That both of these men were most likely responsible for some of the injuries she and her friends had suffered… it made her shiver. Had the man lying unconscious in front of her thrown a Cruciatus at her, she wondered? She couldn’t believe it, it made her feel sick. “You were always too kind, too ready to make excuses for Sev, too ready to see the good in people that was never there!” she remembered Mary saying to her. Where was Mary now? Somewhere safe, maybe in muggle New York, she reassured herself. She might miss her friend dreadfully, but she should not be so selfish, at least Mary was safe.
“I think he’s been hit by another curse, something older, more dangerous. I think he got Bellatrix’ curse, the one intended for Remus Lupin,” Lily said.
She’d had to get Sirius Black involved.
“Sirius!” she held the mirror up to her face. “Are you still up?”
“Course I’m up, Evans, who do you think is filling in the fucking paperwork for today’s skirmish? You know it’s my favourite activity.”
“You and paperwork, a match made in heaven,” she snorted, knowing how much he despised it.
“Everything alright?” his voice sounded tired but alert.
They were friends, but she didn’t contact him without a reason.
“You know the spell that nearly hit Remus today, aside from the Cruciatus and Sectumsempra, did you get what it was?”
“That Black Special that my delightful coz shot at him? I’m pretty sure she tried to kill him with Cruciatus ad Mortem.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Transmogrification Torture - a charming combo of the Cruciatus and AK all wrapped up in a bow.”
“Is there a counter-curse?”
“Why?”
“Is there a counter-curse?”
“Dolorem Interficere. You repeat the incantation on the victim’s limbs until the muscle tremors stop. Allegedly. Why do you ask?”
“Someone else got hit by it,” she said, after a pause.
“One of ours?” Sirius’ voice was sharp.
She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t bear it, and she didn’t think he could either.
“You’re cracking up, Sirius,” she lied, moving the mirror from side to side as though attempting to get better audio. “I have to go back into Poppy, see you tomorrow.”
***
“Go home. This fella’s not going anywhere.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“He’s practically dead, wandless, and chained to the bed.”
Bones sent her a stony glare. Lily folded her arms. It was quiet, everyone else had left to look after other patients.
“You know I’m one of the best duellers in the Order, right?”
Edgar Bones grunted in agreement.
“You haven’t seen your wife and kids in two days, Bones. Go home.”
She was dying to go to bed too. Bones left. The man had finally stopped twitching. She took the bottle of Dittany and carefully poured some over each of the cuts. They still hadn’t managed to find out what the counter-curse to Sectumsempra was. She had come up with the best they had, but some of cuts were still oozing.
“Claude Super!” she said, running her wand horizontally across his chest.
She looked at his face again, which she hadn’t allowed herself to do since she first saw him. He looked so peaceful, even if he was paler than she ever recalled seeing him. She’s always liked his sharp jawline, now covered in stubble, and his full lips, which somehow made him look even younger than he was. Innocent, which he wasn’t.
“What a mess. Why did you do it?”
Silence. She sighed heavily.
“You fucking eejit, Potter,” she whispered.
The man’s lips curved upwards, a tiny change. He cracked one of his eyes open. It was like looking at summer – warm hazel, with hints of gold. His brow creased, as though any movement was painful.
“Alright, Evans?”
His voice sounded like someone who had screamed himself hoarse. Raw. But how dare he talk to her like… like everything was fine. Like he was still her James Potter.
“No,” she shivered. “I’m not alright, you fucking bastard.”
For a moment he looked at her in confusion. Some of the brightness leached out of his eyes.
“Right,” he said.
She was just tired. They hadn’t even been proper friends. Why did she care so much? Neither of them spoke. The fact that he didn’t try to defend himself, didn’t try to deny that he was one of them – it hurt.
“I didn’t believe Sev at first when he told me you had tried to get him killed. I told him you’d never do something like that. And then I heard rumours that you had joined up with Voldemort, become one of his Death-Eaters, his right-hand men. And I refused to believe that too, you see, like an idiot, because I… because you always said… because…”
“Because what?” he croaked, anxiously searching her face.
“Because I thought you were many things – annoying, vain, immature… but I thought, I always thought you had… valour. High valour.”
He smiled faintly.
“And then today, I see the dark Mark on your arm and just…” she shook her head, wiping angrily at her eyes. “I’m disgusted at you, but mostly at myself for being such a naïve fool.”
She could see him holding onto the sides of the bed, gripping tightly.
“Think what you did to your parents, to your brother?” her lips were trembling so much she stopped.
His body jerked and he hissed in pain as two of the cuts on his chest opened.
“Don’t move!” she said, pointing at the cut again and sighing with relief as it closed once more.
His eyes remained closed, but he stayed still. He didn’t look well. She couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him on her watch. Because he was a patient. He was still a human being. Whatever the reason was.
“This is going to hurt, but it will help those wounds to heal,” she said under her breath.
He nodded. She carefully placed some dittany and figwort paste over his chest, a new concoction she had painstakingly developed after months of research. Her fingertips gently covered the red lines. He didn’t flinch once. But the toned muscles on his arms and abdomen remained flexed the entire time.
“Thank you,” he rasped when she had finished.
It was still James Potter’s voice. His kind, warm voice.
“You’re my patient, there’s no need to thank me, I’m just doing my job.”
Her voice was shaking so badly, and if she didn’t leave, she was going to start crying in front of him. She turned away, facing the door.
“Your injuries are no longer life threatening, but you need to rest to heal. There are anti-apparition wards all around Hogwarts, in case you forgot. And a pressure-sensitive charm on the bed so any attempts to get up will result in an alarm being activated, as well as the release of a stunning spell. I’ll be next door.”
She practically ran out. She didn’t see the haunted look in his eyes before he closed them again tightly.
***
It was silent in the room. A ceiling fan whirled above, charmed to a cool setting. He had been here before, many a time, as a student. It was the room Moony used to be treated in, after each full moon. He remembered waking up here when he was hexed off his broom during a Quidditch match. The kindness of Poppy. The concern of his friends. Even Lily Evans had visited him. So many bittersweet memories. He couldn’t remember the last time he had celebrated his birthday.
“Think what you did to your parents, to your brother?”
He looked up at the ceiling.
“I think about it all the time.”