Nothings Going To Change
In the distance voices are heard, as tired blue eyes watch a scene
unfolding.
The boy, watched, he was fortunate that his eye-sight just breached the height of the
stair rail when he stood on tiptoe. The stairs, which spiralled to an impossibly high
peak, climbed the way to the dozen bedrooms of the manor. A plush, enchanted
carpet which seemed to shiver amidst the screaming tickled his toes as he listened
to the adults, with glazed eyes.
They were always fighting, he knew, but why they fought he didn't know.
Shuddering but not from the cold breeze which seemed always to infect the
mansion, he saw his father, his face becoming clear under the flickering
candle light. His face was pale, especially so now, he had a song, almost
non-existent nose, and tiny bead like eyes. He attired himself in midnight black robes,
which hid none of his firm height and build which easily outdid the woman before him.
The woman was very beautiful, flawless in the boys eyes. She was shortish, with
a long slim build, raven hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves. Most importantly
the boy noticed her eyes, large- sea blue eyes which could drown a man in their
depths.
Those eyes were now as dark as ever, but very much alive and very
scared.
"God, not now! Please, don't take him. I have nothing left but my..."
her voice was cut of by violent, knife cutting moans. She was losing
the battle. "God, please *don't* take him."
"Don't invoke God," he replied, coolly. "When you are so close to finding
out whether he exists or not."
The woman shook even more violently, throwing her head into the folds of
her dress. She pulled violently back as he approached her, but it was
too late. She was backed into a corner. He grabbed her firmly
by the wrist, and in a single movement of his arm brought her inches
from his face.
"Don't!" the boy cried, running down the small flight of stairs, he threw
himself into the woman's arms, sobbing.
"Looks like you still have the love of someone Madeline," he rose his arms
to strike her, but the boy, James stood firm.
Although James was awfully young, tragically so, he had promised
himself as heard his mothers cries through the night that he would not
move to let anyone harm her, ever.
The man, his father pushed him aside, thrusting him across the room- helplessly
he felt his body sprawled across the smooth tiles. Breathing deeply he could
only watch in anguish as his father pulled his mother to her feet, drawing
her sobbing face in his cold hands.
James swore under his breath, as he watched the scene unfold that he would
never be like this man, his father. He would be different, in every way
imaginable, and this man would pay for what he did to his mother, and later
when she would sob into James arms, James would tell her this, and she
would shake her head fiercely, 'you must never let revenge consume you, never
James.'
His mothers face twisted in anguish, and his fathers own set, determined and
righteous. James rose to his feet, walking then running towards his fathers,
screaming.
His father turned to his son, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, well,
a challenge."
Nursing her wounds, his mothers turned to face her husband, daggers in her
eyes. "Don't." she commanded, wholly. "You don't as much as touch him,
or I swear, there will be consequences."
His mothers eyes flashed darkly, and James secretly wished that she'd
command the same thing for herself. She drew him securely into her arms,
playing with his hair in her fingers, as she watched her husband stalk away
under lowered eyelids.
"James, you should have been in bed." she reprimanded softly, tiredly.
"I heard voices.."
"James." she repeated more firmly. "Please, next time.."
He nodded in response, cuddling her stomach whilst she gently
stroked his hair.
He vowed then and there; again and again; after this was all over, when he
grew up he would never be this helpless to protect someone he loved, ever.
* * * * * * * * *
James was aware of a few truths in this world. He was the son of Peter
Potter and his mother, who he knew simply as Madeline. He knew little
of his father, and what he did know had not come from his fathers lips, but
his mothers. He he had been an auror in a war no-one even remembered and as
for his mother, fittingly she had been a healer and apprentice.
Before bed his mother would always lie him down, telling him stories
of the old-world, where wizards roamed openly free amongst muggles and battles
were waged and won for the glory of good. She often spoke of good and evil,
as if preparing him somewhat for a future battle of his own.
She was always insightful with the future.
His mother had few friends that he knew of, but one whose visits had become
famous among James was a wizard his mother had once been an apprentice under.
Markus Cutter.
His mother often spoke of him, even when he wasn't present. She sat him
down, telling him what a great man he was, and all the adventures he had
had. His mother firmly believed that he was one of the greatest wizards
the world had ever seen.
James wished deep down that his father had been like that.
It was a rarely sunny day, when the visitor arrived, they had been at breakfast,
and as soon as his father had heard the door, he had flashed his grey eyes towards
his mother, warningly, before rising to his feet and attending to his study.
As James followed his mother to the door, he smiled as Markus stepped into
the manor, shaking his head as the carpet became animated beneath his
feet.
James wondered where his father had gone so quickly, and secretly doubted he
had ever seen Markus and his father in the same room together.
Gliding through the door Markus fixed his gaze to Madeline, giving her a warm friendly
embrace, before bending down and scooping James into his arms.
"I have something for you James.." he whispered.
His mother let out a tiny gasp as she observed the shape, and James, with a thrill
coursing through him, slowly undid the wrapping.
A broomstick. Beneath his fingers he felt it vibrate, anticipating its first flight.
"Now why don't you go test her out," Markus said offhandedly, turning seriously
towards his mother, "and your mum and I will have a chat, yes?" Another smile
at James, but it never touched his eyes.
James bit his tongue, nodding, holding the broomstick and running out to threw
the front door.
Playing with the broomstick however was suddenly the furthest thing from
his mind. Returning back inside he ran to the room he saw his mother and
Markus enter seconds prior.
The door was opened a jar, and he watched as his mother sobbed softly onto
Markus shoulder, he resisted the urge to comfort her. James had a small
tolerance for things which made his mother cry.. but this was a different
kind of crying, the kind which was seemed more like a relief, rather then a
burden.
James cringed, it was apparent to him that he was the burden. The thing
keeping his mother with his father.
Pushing his ears to the door, he heard their voices, clearly in the crisp
air of the manor.
"Leave him, you have to leave him. Now more then ever."
He could see her tear stained face as she replied, "there is too much honour
here, James..James would never be able to attend Hogwarts, that is, if the
ministry even let me have him." Her sobbing grew harder, and James swallowed
a lump.
"I'll take you both, I just can't stand to see.. not to little James, I mean..
its not fair."
"He doesn't raise a hand to James." she bit back, defensively. "I would never
let him raise a hand to James"
To James surprise, Markus petted his mother, drawing her into his arms, like
he'd remembered his father doing once.
But his mother had never loved his father, there marriage was one of convenience.
James was constantly told that by his father.
Markus suddenly jerked his head upwards, breathing a small sigh of relief as he
realized that the person intruding upon them was only the boy. He started
smiling, a smile which reached his eyes.
His mother sat up in shook, wiping her face quickly. She hated having James
see her cry, and it was an event he witnessed all too often these days, she cringed,
'what kind of mother am i?'
James tentatively stepped into the room. No use pretending he wasn't there.
Madeline, adverting her face from James, rose to her feet, her voice soft and controlled,
but it was a lightened voice to James's ears. "I'll go get us some tea then."
As she stepped out of the room Markus diverted his attention to James,
sitting the boy down in front of him and resting his hands on either knee.
"Are you excited young man?" he asked, still smiling towards him.
"Yes, I love the new broomstick, thank you." James said, confidently.
Markus shook his head, laughing, "no, no, on account of your gonna have a
brother or sister."
James couldn't hide his shook, but if Markus had noticed it or not, he didn't
show it. His voice suddenly became much quieter, "you realize your mother
will be in a lot more ..delicate- condition now?"
James nodded.
"I need you to protect her.. protect her from.." his words faltered a bit,
and James saved him the trouble of continuing.
"My father."
Markus nodded, sombrely a look of respect towards the younger man evident.
"I'm going to teach you a spell which won't hurt your father, rather protect your
mother. It will stop her enduring physical harm to her body.. she'll still feel it," he
shifted round even more uncomfortably at that, "but it will stop her getting..damaged."
James nodded, eager to learn the spell.
And so, in the small break between his mother getting tea and him being alone
with Markus he learnt his first spell, a spell which required no wand,
just pure will alone.
Markus rose, as his mother entered, Markus tangled his hands threw his unruly black
hair, "I best be off now."
Madeline only nodded, understanding, she placed the tea-cups gently down on the
table, walking him to the door, James stopped well behind them both at his mothers gesture
to wait. He peered through the door to see into the main foyer.
And then it happened, something James never thought would. James' father and Markus in
the same room. The two men were silent for what felt like an eternity, his father was the first
to break it, there was no pleasure in seeing this man in his voice.
"Markus, well, I don't see much of you these days now do I?" There was a pause
a soft pausing, building up to the fury of a storm. James father continued,
"so, is the bastard my wife is carrying yours or mine?" he heard his father growl, but unable
to see what he meant, James only listened.
"I assure you, he is entirely yours," Markus replied, coolly. James heard his footsteps
begin again, and the soft click as he opened the door.
"I know about you. I know about how your a parselmouth. What would that sound
like to the ministry Markus! The heir of Gryffindor a parselmouth!"
Markus didn't reply, he was already at the door, pulling it open. Madeline
would later reveal to James, that 'as Markus left his fist were clenched so
tightly, and that it took the last of his strength to restrain himself from turning
around and confronting your father'. 'And do what? Kill him?'
James asked, and his mother nodded, 'there is a lot of bad blood between them.'
* * * * * * * *
When his mother went into labour James was beyond ecstatic. He had waited outside
the room with all the elves, huddled round. But when the first violent screams
of his mother had pierced the air, the elves had huddled him away. He listened now, several
hours later to the first screams of his brother, wailing in the morning, and
couldn't help but feel a wall of pride. His brother.
A lot of things changed after the birth of Harry Potter. He was by no means
a tall boy, a little baby fat, but one thing which amazed James, as he neared
his 8th birthday, and Harry neared his first, Harry was amazingly intelligent.
His father changed completely, he took an interest in Harry which he had never
taken in James, he loved the boy Harry to death and by the end of the day James
could only stare on in jealousy, as his father, a man he thought incapable of
love- loved his little brother.
"What are you staring at?" his father scowled, as he petted his seven month old infant
son in his arms. "Go do something, go help your mother."
* * * * * * * * * * *
On a day which should have been flooded with happiness, the first birthday
of Harry Potter a darkness stalked over the family, and with a sense of
foreboding the second he woke James heard the high-pitched squeals of his
mother, crying pitifully.
Not missing a beat, the boy, of eight jumped to his feet, only half
dressed as he ran down the stairs, calling after his mother, he followed
the source of the voice to the nursery.
It was his fathers voice now, dark and unruly. His father stood over his
mother, his mother was laid out on the ground, the embodiment of
anguish. She was clutching something in her arms, but James
couldn't be sure what.
"Move aside, give him to me!" his father pushed between his mother
and what she was holding to her chest.
"No!" she cried, holding the bundle as close to her as humanly possible. "No!"
James cast the spell on his mother, the spell which would stop her having real physical
harm to her body. That didn't stop her however from feeling every strike his father lay
on her. James couldn't watch this, he pushed fiercely against his father, distracting him
for but a moment.
His father pushed him backwards out the door, slamming it shut firmly behind him.
James could only wait for the beating to stop before his father marched out of
the room, casting James one last glance as he carried the bundle his mother
had been holding, firmly in his own arms.
James was sure his mother would have died that day from the injuries
had it not been for his spell.
He was later to find out that his brother Harry Potter was dead. The
victim of a horrible Wizarding curse.
And after that, his mother may just have well been too.
For the next week she locked herself in her room, sobbing pitifully,
James could only sit by her door, waiting for her to come out.
Every day or so his father would pass by the room, throwing James
a look 'what are you doing there still?' It would say, but James
remained unmoving, waiting.
And when he thought that he would drop dead from the disappear facing
his family, there was a stranger at the door.
For the first time in a week, he heard his mother stir. And he, equally
leapt to his feet, running to the door, in the process wiping his face
dry from one week of tears.
Markus stood on the other side of the door, drawing in James's face in
one glance, he bent down to him, scooping him up in his arms, 'like
a father would' James thought, absent mindedly. For the first time
in a long time he felt safe and content, knowing now that everything
would be better.
Dropping James off at the door, Markus knelt down to his level, wiping
James own unruly hair out of his face, it was mattered with tears and
clung to his face. "You've been brave this long, just hold on a little longer."
James nodded, "okay," he uttered, hanging his head in shame.
He had let his mother suffer, and if she hadn't stayed here for him, this
wouldn't have happened.
After a few hours with his mother, they both came out of the room.
Madeline bent down and hugged James fiercely. She squeezed her eyes determinedly
shut, before opening them again- she held his face in her hands, cupping it.
And stared at him, like she had never before, as if preserving his face in her memory.
"James, my poor James," she whispered, bring his head to her neck, crouching
down beside him. "Your going to go with Markus, your going to go far far
away from here. Do you understand, o, my precious James."
He didn't say anything on his part. The relief of leaving his father
swelled in his heart. "When do we leave?" he asked, simply.
Madeline bit back a sob, "your going alone James, my place is always here,
I must stay here. You may never understand why.. Oh, James."
And she hugged him so tightly he thought he couldn't breath.
He turned back to Markus, then to his mother. He had no more tears
to shed. He was sad to be leaving his mother, but now, it felt like
he couldn't cry any more, the emotional angst of the past week had
drained him.
Wordlessly he say goodbye to his house, packed his few belongings, and
hand in hand left with Markus, without once turning back to see the
figure of his mother waving sadly behind him.
Chapter 1:
When the carriage arrived at its destination the next morning,
he awoke to be greeted by a castle, larger the he had ever seen in his
life. Meeting his gaze Markus replied to the unasked question: This is Hogwarts James.
James nodded, drawing it all in in one look. It was the most
beautiful place he'd ever seen, and as he drew nearer the air
of magic surrounding it engulfed him completely. Hogwarts had a feel to it, would
made it impossible to feel depressed around. Everything was alive
here. Everything.
"What.. what am I, how?" he asked breathlessly.
Markus patted James, "grab your bags." Was his only reply.
* * * * * * * * * *
As James stepped out of the carriage, his small bag slung over
his shoulder Markus led him step by step. James was aware
that Markus watched him, smiling as James couldn't help but
peer into every other classroom.
For the rest of the journey Markus led the ways through the halls,
which were alive with sounds from the classrooms that occupied them.
James followed Markus through a dozen seemingly endless hallways,
watching children, several years older then him attend their classes through
the window of each room. He had been discouraged to sticking his head in,
when one of the classes had squealed in horror at his presence.
As he passed one particular class-room he saw them all standing
round a hat on a desk, awed, he stopped following Markus as he watched them
each tap their wand on the hat.
Rabbits, miniature cows and mice all showed up from the hat, when the
last boy approached it, everyone stared at him wide eyed, taking a cautious step back.
The boy smiled mischievously, he was easily a head taller then the rest of the
class, dark blue eyes and a tangle of ebony hair.
He tapped the wand, once, then twice...
James was watching him, unable to avert his watch.
"James!" Markus yelled, having come back down the hall to fetch him,
he glanced into the classroom, snickering as he saw what James was
looking in on, but James didn't get a second look, having
Markus pull him swiftly away down the hall.
It was the last door on the right, with the crest of all four houses
plastered on it, that Markus at last stopped at.
Knock, knock. He beat against the door. Quick knocks which ended
as the door openly promptly for him.
"Ahhh, at last they've arrived." A man stood from behind a desk,
gliding towards them- his cloak leaving a trail behind him.
"Young James Potter I believe."
James nodded, unsure what to say. The man must have been ahundred or two
at least in the face, but when he saw his hands, he realized he was
more accurately in his mid-50's, instead, his long beard and eyes made
him appear twice the age he was.
James was not put under the sorting hat to decide his destined house,
like his mother foretold would happen. Instead he was simply put directly
into Gryffindor. He was too young for the hat, Markus explained.
"A placement in Gryffindor you think, do you?" the aged wizard asked,
a trace of amusement in his voice.
Markus looked almost offended, "of course headmaster. Where else?"
The headmaster nodded, a smile forming on his lips.
Markus left the same day, and as the head of Gryffindor led him
into the tower of Gryffindor, he couldn't help but pause to as the
full impact of the day fell onto his shoulders.
The Gryffindor head sensing that feeling somewhat squeezed his shoulder
gently, as she lead him through the tower.
The head of Gryffindor was a greying woman, with short strict blonde
hair and a firmness in her gaze, which she concealed today for James.
As she led him through the empty Gryffindor dining room, James drew it
all in, realizing he'd have more time later to fully examine it. She walked him
up a dozen stairs, past a dozen more rooms till they reached his.
"I know your awfully young to be boarding," she explained, as he threw
his bags onto the one neat bed, which was the only bed not taken. "But its
for the best, you understand?"
When it was clearly evident that he did not, she shrugged her shoulders
helplessly, explaining to him the house rules, which was, where he could and couldn't go.
The list of couldn't far exceeded the could, and helplessly James
listened to her, clinging to his broomstick for support, she noticed
this, smiling softly.
"There is a quiddich match today you can go watch, its in the afternoon, you
know?"
James nodded, an earnest smile crossing his lips for the first time easily
in a week.
* * * * * * * *
Whilst all the students would be at class James found he had an incredibly large
amount of free time.
Markus, who left shortly after placing James in Hogwarts
was of little help. After an awkward introduction to all the professors
who seemed to accept his presence here without challenge, he had
left James to find his own footing.
Gryffindor had accepted him with open arms. The 7th and 6th especially
liked to baby him, bringing him home toffee from Hogsmead and other
gifts which he toyed with endlessly in his free time.
He boarded with three other boys, who were at thirteen years. They spoke
to him often in the morning, revealing to him, (for he did not realize)
that he spoke in his sleep.
James shuddered, wondering what he could have said. But was scared to ask
and they didn't offer. With that air of concealment hanging over his head
he looked to other pursuits to keep him out of Gryffindor during the evening
when the rest of the house was full.
Each student looked at him, as if knowing his entire past, but scared
to breach the subject to him. He was ashamed of his past, and therefore
ashamed to face the rest of the students who seemed to know him
better then he did.
The desire lingered, growing he realized more powerfully then before to go home
and rescue his mother from the one person he despised. His father, and yet,
something held him back at Hogwarts, perhaps it was the face of wisdom
of Dumbledore, -what he , James, knew he perhaps could accomplish.
The dream to one day at last become a Wizard, and avenge the innocent-
like his mother, from the evil, men like his father.
* * * * * *
It was 6 months into the school year, christmas had come and gone and
slowly James began to feel more at ease at Hogwarts. Often he would
stay up at nights wondering about his mother, where she was, what she
was doing. And upon asking Professor Boucivich (the Gryffindor head) if she
knew any way he could contact his mother, she nodded sadly 'no.'
And lastly, he couldn't repress the scowl would blemish his features as
he began to think of his father, and a hatred would well at the pit of his stomach.
Although James was not an entire outcast among the students, as he would
occasionally stop to talk with some of them... The younger years mostly concerned
themselves with writing off the teachers and resurecting demons from their graves
as for the 3rd year students they had keenly devoted their time to creating mayhem
whenever possible, and thus he had learnt by the end of a few month period, simply
by sitting through conversation, (without any real imput of his own-) the spell for
transforming your love into a frog, how to annoy Professor Maloney, what roots mix to
give you sleeping powder and so forth. Despite however these snippets of information and *endless*
free time, he still had failed to work out a way out of Hogwarts to see the infamous
Hogsmead.
He sighed, people years older then he weren't allowed to go to Hogsmead, why should
he be? A stubborn part of him refused to take it that easily.
It was in nearing the end of these summer months, when he was busily
shuffling down to eat dinner with the rest of Gryffindor, his broomstick
still in hand (he'd been flying over the quiddich field all evening)
when he bumped into another boy. Apologizing profusely as he sat, the
boy waved off the apology with a shrug of his shoulder.
"No sweat kid, It's pretty hard not to bump into me."
James turned to the boy, surprise crossing his features, which turned into a
smile of recognition. It was the boy from the class he'd seen on
his first day. He was right though, he was a giant compared to James.
The taller boy inspected James for a second, grinning off handily as he
noticed James expression.
"You know me kid?"
"Uh, yer.. that is, I saw you in one of your classes."
The boy grinned, no further explanation was needed.
"Your that young kid, aren't ya? Yer, I have a brother your age. Jeeze,
he'd give his right hand to be sitting here."
James flushed at that, turning down to look at his meal as the boy
continued. James couldn't help but give a little hero-worship to the older
boy, his exploits were infamous.
"Jeeze, you must get heaps lonely here all by yourself, and when we all go off for
holidays, jeeze..you got anywhere to stay?" he shook his head, "no of course not." But something
was lingering on his mind, an idea.
"By the way, I'm Wikit. Wikit Black."
((())))
I'm far too lazy for authors notes.
feel free to query me at grommie2@hotmail.com
l8r.