From the Records of James Potter
*
Thmp- thump.
Well, this job is rather boring , and tedious, and mundane, and so on… but it does have a certain rhythm to it.
Thmp- thump.
Press the stamp in ink, press it onto the parchment.
Thmp- thump.
Thus all of our concerned patrons will know when their precious library resources are due back.
Thmp- thump.
Half of them won't turn it in on time anyway.
Thmp- thump.
It's a bloody waste of time, that's what it is. I'm not even supposed to be doing this job. But the London National Witchcraft Library, here on Diagon Alley, is having staff shortages because of the recent scare that You- Know- Who will attack the shopping district next.
Thmp- thump.
Lucky for me, I live on Diagon alley, in the Orphanage, so they can load me with work. Normally, I would be sitting in my desk, floating a few feet off the ground, and directing people to where they want to go (the Library catalog is almost as huge as the vaults of Gringotts), or waiting out my shift reading The Lord of the Rings. It is now discarded to my right side, and I can sit and stare at it mournfully and wonder if poor Frodo will ever get out of the spider's cave.
Thmp- thump.
I know, that's not so bad, but the conditions here are appalling. You should see it. The few people that do show up to have a look around jump every time I jam down my stamper, eyes darting left to right, and scrolls being destroyed in their grip. The big, burly security guard ( I swear she's at least one- third giant, and has apparently inherited all of their meaner qualities) doesn't do anything to help it, either. She yells at the people every time they take one step in the wrong direction. I thought this one poor fellow was going to have a heart attack (but it didn't matter, anyway, because he looks like the Evil Secret Voldemort Society type). The fear is so thick in the air, you can taste it, I swear.
Not only that, but the Librarian, a goblin laid off from Gringotts, has taken a certain dislike to me. His little, beady eyes follow every move I make. Don't even think of touching that book, they say. I'd like to show him one four. Hey, I play Quidditch, wanna mess with me? Oh well, he's leaving soon. Being transferred to Paris.
My hands are covered with ink….
I'd rather they be covered with blisters from Professional Quidditch…
"HEY! JAMSIE!"
A boy with dark black hair tied back in a pony tail smiles up at me.
"Sirius!" I manage to squeak. Out of the corner of my eye I see the security guard lumbering towards us, the librarian scuttling at her heels.
The poor fellow from before is keeled over clutching his heart, and about half of the scant remaining patrons have run out screaming. The rest just stand there, staring. Apparently, it was a shock to them to hear someone so loud in the hush that had fallen over Diagon, and just assumed that it was an associate of Voldemort. Also apparently, they have never met Sirius Black before. Not once in the time that I've known him has he even attempted to be discreet, and that rebelliousness of character tends to increase when exposed to serious situations.
"DO YOU KNOW WHERE THE CHARMS BOOKS ARE LOCATED?" he continues, grinning impishly.
I'm pretty sure that fellow has now died. I don't know whether to be amused or horrified at Sirius's behavior. I think I'm more amused…
"GET OUT!" rasps the security guard, grabbing Sirius by the neck and practically dragging him out the great stone doors.
"Mr. Potter, I cannot have such behavior in my library," says the librarian, a gleam in his beady eyes. "If you are friends with such characters, I must ask you to leave."
"But…." I attempt to explain.
"I'm sorry."
The security guard has now grabbed me about the neck as well and thrown me out the door.
"My book!" My book is still in there…damn. Now Frodo is doomed to spend an eternity frozen in the spider's cave.
"That was fun," crows Sirius.
"Oh, shut up. You've gotten me fired."
"That was a pansy job anyway, James. There's about a thousand other things you could be doing."
"Thanks for making up my mind for me," I mumble. Sirius looks over me, dark eyes sparkling. He could be so grating sometimes…but it's good to have him around. He's my connection to reality, really, and besides, you can't get rid of a bloke you've known practically your whole life.
"Come on, there's a shop opening a few stores down, and it claims to have the best milkshakes in the world," says Sirius, grabbing me by the arm and leading me to the store.
We ordered two chocolate milkshakes, and then strolled down the alley with them. They were good. Surprisingly, the alley was filled with people, but it was mostly businessmen out for lunch break. They, too, were jumpy….but not Sirius and me. We were just fine, with our milkshakes. McGonagall tells me in school it's because we're young and we don't fully understand, but I contest that. I think I know perfectly well what kind of danger we're in.
Suddenly, outside of Flourish and Blotts, hundreds of men come running at us, terror in their eyes. We're pressed against the wall and practically trampled by them.
"What's going on?" I project over the din.
Sirius grabs a man by the arm and drags him against the wall with us. "What's going on?" he growls at him.
"You-know- who," the man stammers back to him, then drags him into the crowd with him.
I'm all alone… I should probably go back to the orphanage. But that morbid curiosity awakes in me again, and I battle the crowd, going in the wrong direction. I want to see him, just once. I want to see the cause of all of our pain and misery.
The crush of people subsides, and then in front of me is Gringotts. Upon the steps are strewn the bodies of countless numbers of goblins, and in the middle of them all is him. Voldemort. The veritable "thief of death" himself.
He is dressed in a long, black cowl that covers most of his body, and nothing except for his face is visible. A horrible, pale face. I think he's seen me- his scarlet eyes meet mine, and he grins.
This will be the first in a long succession of my meetings with him.
But this time, he does nothing. He just simply vanishes into thin air, leaving carnage behind him, as he always does.
Rage swells within me, rage at the sins he had committed there. Without even thinking twice, I rush forward, wand out, and heal as many of the injured as I can. Sirius appears beside me, and he, too, begins to work, until the emergency medical team shows up, and we go home together.
"I saw him, Sirius," I say.
"Saw who?"
"Him. Voldemort."
"Yes, I saw him too. I followed you. You were pretty damned daft, you know, to attempt something like that. Promise me you won't do it again, alright?"
"No," I answer dreamily. "Someday, Sirius, I'll defeat him. I'll kill Voldemort, and all this pain and suffering won't happen anymore."
Sirius turns to me and his eyes study my face grimly.
"You're crazy," he answers, but somehow I knew then that he understood. I was serious about it, and I would make it happen.
A few days later, the library contacted me. Apparently, I had saved a relative of the librarian's and he was so thankful that he gave me my job back.
Thmp- thump.
James Potter, 1972.
*
Disclaimer: Yes, it all belongs to Rowling. Who else?
Notes from the Author: I wrote this fic mainly for myself, because I work at a library and I was fancying what it would be like to get away, saved by Sirius Black ^-^
But I also wanted to explore what James's first meeting with Voldemort was like, and what Diagon was like during that time of fear when Voldemort reigned.
This came out not exactly as I had planned, sort of like Hemingway style since I've been reading him so much lately. But I decided to post it as is.
If you happened to have read my short little ficcie, and liked it, then tell me so! Please, review, it'll make me happy. ~Lady Evenstar