Charles stumbled into the kitchen in a daze. Numbly, he paused to spell the soot off his clothes, before sharp, stinging pain in his right arm drew his attention. He looked down, squinting through dirty lenses, and registered the ripped sleeves of his robes (new robes, given just this morning), the dark-coloured wood of Fortescue's parlour tables protruding at angles, and wetness.
"Charles!" Hermione cried in relief, grabbing his hand.
He winced.
She froze with a gasp. "Oh no, I'm sorry! Come, you need to get the–the wood removed. Mrs Potter!"
She let him rest his hand in hers and pulled him into the living room, careful not to jostle him. "Mrs Potter, Charles has… wood."
Ron looked up from where he was bent over Ginny's prone form on the couch (mum's going to freak about the dirt). Lily turned around and her eyes widened.
"Sit him down at the table and lay his arm straight. I'll be there in a moment. Accio potions kit!"
Hermione pushed him gently, and Charles forced his legs to move to the table. His mind was a daze.
A Death Eater attack. In Diagon Alley. Death Eaters. Ice-cream parlour. The Killing Curse. Sirius was there. His dad was still there. Death Eaters.
He blinked and suddenly his mum was there, looking into his eyes in concern.
"Mild concussion," she muttered, and pressed her wand against his temple.
One spell later and his head was suddenly no longer throbbing. The stings in his arm faded, now more tingly pinpricks instead of a haze.
He looked at it. Bloodied splinters was scattered around the table, but his arm was a smooth patch of unblemished skin.
"Better?"
"Yes," Charles said, and Lily sighed, straightening. Her brows were still pinched, but she wore a pained smile as she looked over at them.
"Is everyone else alright? No pain? No bleeding?"
Ron nodded mutely.
"Blimey," he whispered, face so white Charles could count all his freckles. "Death Eaters in Diagon Alley."
"The Aurors would have arrived already," Lily said. "It'll be alright."
Ginny stirred, and all their attention was instantly upon her. Her eyelids fluttered open. "Wh–What happened?"
"You're safe now," Lily said. "There was an attack."
"You got hit by a table," Ron filled in. "Some nutjob shot a blasting curse at us. Blimey."
"Oh," said Ginny faintly, looking around. "Where's Sirius and James?"
Lily thinned her lips. "They'll be duelling, knowing them. Even being off-duty won't keep them from a fight."
She said it lightly, but Charles could hear her worry. He shared it; his dad was still out there, fighting Death Eaters who saw nothing wrong with throwing the Killing Curse about.
Charles shifted to the couch, and Ron automatically made a space for him by Ginny's feet. Hermione sat down heavily on his other side. Together, they waited in terse silence, watching the kitchen fireplace. Every flicker, every spark of flame was observed with held breath, but not once did the fire turn green.
Charles counted the seconds by the raging pulse in his ears.
Finally, finally, as the afternoon light in the room turned into evening shadows, the fire flared into roaring emerald. Two shadows appeared, and Charles was rising to his feet when James and Sirius dropped onto the fireplace.
Neither of them were looking very good, both leaning into each other's shoulders to keep upright. His dad bore the marks of recent healing. There was a pale scar on his forehead, a thin line that grew gradually thinner before their eyes, while Sirius looked worse off, covered in dust and grime. He held his left arm strangely, and stepped stiffly out of the fireplace.
"Dad!" Charles shouted, and shot forward, burying his face into James' shoulder. His relief was so great he could have choked on it. James wrapped an arm tightly around him and pressed his lips to his hair before raising his head.
"Lily," he said. "Have you–?"
Charles did not see her response, but he felt his dad sag and drew back, looking from him to Sirius.
"What happened?"
"Havoc, that's what," Sirius said heavily, limping to the couch. "Budge over."
Wordlessly, Ginny drew her legs up, allowing Ron to move in and create a space for Sirius, who sank down with a sigh.
"Did you run into any of them on your way here?" James asked, moving to the armchair.
"No, we didn't. Fortescue lent us his Floo network," Lily said. "Did you see him afterwards?"
James shook his head. "There weren't many people who stuck around during the fight. He'd probably went into hiding somewhere."
Charles hoped fervently that Fortescue had stayed out of the fight and remained safe until the Aurors came. Resolutely, he did not think about the other possible outcome.
"Mather's dead," Sirius said dully. "Skin removing curse. Clovis, he… he didn't deserve that."
Hermione gasped.
"That's horrible," she exclaimed, a hand to her mouth.
"It looked worst," Sirius informed her, closing his eyes. "His post would have to be filled."
"They've asked you?"
Sirius opened his eyes and glanced at her, a strange set to his lips. "They did indeed."
All three adults shared a look, one that Charles could not decipher.
"How many Death Eaters were there?" Ginny asked, wide-eyed.
"Nine," Sirius said in disgust, wrinkling his nose. "You-Know-Who's best and brightest. My delightful cousin, Lestranges, Malfoy, Avery, Travers, Mulciber. They got a new warder too, after we caught their last one. I reckon he'd planned this for a while."
"It's the first time he attacked the Alley this time," James said reasonably. "He probably didn't want anyone messing it up."
"There's more to it though. Did you recognise the last guy? The one who–the one who hung around Malfoy? I think he's new."
Both James and Lily frowned.
"I couldn't get a good look at him," James said, pensive. He glanced at Charles and the other teens in the room, pressing his lips together.
The adults shared another look, and Charles narrowed his eyes. There was a lot that they weren't saying. He sent his own significant look at Ron and Hermione; they would talk later.
Adrian kept his head respectfully bowed as Voldemort read through his report in silence. Then there was a rustle of parchment and near soundless footsteps, before a pale, cold hand slipped under his chin. He tilted his face up and looked into blood-red eyes.
"You have done well," Voldemort murmured. "You have struck terror into the hearts of the fools in the ministry."
"Thank you, my lord," Adrian said, a bubble of pride welling up within him at this high praise. "It is only as you have taught me."
"Indeed," Voldemort said, and removed his hand. "You may remove your mask now, Adrian."
Adrian reached up and grasped the sides of his mask lightly. Warmth surged through his fingers, recognising his touch, and he took off the mask without incident. Dark hair took that moment to fall into his eyes, and he brushed them aside with a careless sweep.
Voldemort extended a hand, palm up, and Adrian laid his mask upon it. The Dark Lord took it carefully, examining the runes etched in minuscule script behind the mask.
"There were no issues?" He asked, turning it around after a few moments.
"None," Adrian confirmed, pleasure leaking into his voice. "The augments also function as they should."
Voldemort hummed thoughtfully, and returned the mask. "It would have been a shame if they did not. You maintain that it should not be given widespread use among my Death Eaters?"
"Yes, father. I do not believe another Death Eater would have the reflexes—nor the training and practice—to successfully utilise the speed augments. At best, they would injure only themselves. At worst, the next Auror squad would gain the opportunity to study the runes, rendering this advantage useless."
Voldemort smiled. "Very well. You shall continue using your augments and improving your runes. How far have you progressed in your studies?"
"Acacius' handwriting oscillates between illegibility and rambling," Adrian reported, face blank.. "Deciphering his codes is… time-consuming."
Voldemort sighed. "If Wenlock hadn't blown himself up I might have killed him myself. His chaos was almost unbearable. See what you can read, Adrian. The man was intelligent enough that even his ramblings may hold something of use."
Adrian nodded once.
"Come, it is time we debrief the others." Voldemort glided through the room and stopped at the door. "And I will give you your next directives."
Short chapters are very manageable. Perhaps I should learn from this and apply it to my other fics. Hm.
I am a being that runs on reviews, so please do leave some. Thank you much. What do y'all think of the Potters?
