Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. I wish it were, but Merlin knows I'm not JKR. And as always, innumerable thanks to my Beta, Lady_Panthea. Couldn't do it without your help!

.o.O.o.

Book One

- SEVEN -

.

In Memorandum

The following is a list of magical persons who are either missing or deceased:

— Jock Aodh McCormick, 33 from Halkirk, Scotland – Half-Blood – Missing

— Aithne Carey Slane, 35 from Ardee, Ireland – Half-Blood – Missing

— Wirvan Doria Strange, 14 from Godric's Hollow, England – Muggle-Born – Found – Deceased

~ Excerpt from the Daily Prophet

.

JAMES

Everything hurts. I roll over, groaning, and the movement sends sickening pangs throbbing through my head. I open my eyes and try to sit up, which is maybe the stupidest decision of my life.

I end up bracing myself on the bedside table and emptying the all-but-non-existent contents of my stomach onto the floor. My fuzzy eyesight is only making the nauseating dizziness worse. I register voices as I retch for a second time, and then there are hands on my shoulders and someone says something, sending a wave of coolness over me, calming my stomach and easing the sickness in my head.

I fall back onto my bed, quivering as I always do after retching. I try to swallow and wince as my acid-burned throat constricts.

"Take it easy, James."

I frown. "Hope?" Remus's mother reaches over me and presses my spectacles into my hands, which I gratefully put on. Hope Lupin comes into focus, sitting on the edge of my bed, along with a nurse, who is stoically magicking my vomit away. "Sorry," I mutter to her, wiping the back of my hand over my mouth self-consciously.

She smiles prettily at me and adjusts the head of my bed so it's in an upright position. "Truth be told, its good to see you do something, even if it is vomiting. You've been out for so long we started to get worried."

I frown. "How long was I out?"

"Three days. I'll get your Healer."

I look over at Hope. "Three days?"

She nods. "Tomorrow's September 1st. Don't worry," she adds hurriedly as my eyes widen and I sit up off the pillows in panic, "We've been talking with Dumbledore and both you and Sirius aren't expected at school until after you've been released from here. Your teachers have been told, and they'll all help you catch up when you get there. Right now, you need to heal." Hope finishes her speech by pushing me gently back onto my pillows.

"James Potter?" I look up to see a male Healer walk into my curtained area. He smiles. "Good to see you up. I'm Healer Simon Aldridge. How are you feeling?"

"Like hell," I say, and Hope clucks at me. Aldridge smiles and shines wandlight across my eyes. "Where are my parents? And Sirius? Are they all okay?"

"Relax," he chuckles. "Everyone's fine. Your mother, Euphemia, is talking a little longer than we might like, but it's understandable. She had the most sever injuries and she's had a significant amount of healing work done in the past. As I'm sure you know, the body starts to develop immunities to spells after a while. Your father will probably be discharged later today and Mr. Black is mending well. He won't be stuck here much longer either. It's you we've all been concerned about."

"Me?"

"You expended a lot of magical energy getting your mother out of the house. It's rare for a wizard to burn himself up so completely, and it's a rough thing to come back from. You must've done some powerful magic, kid."

I frown, remembering. "I had to cast a Patronus." And shift into my animagus form. But if Aldridge doesn't say anything about it, then I won't mention it either. No point in getting arrested, after all.

Aldridge launches into a round of routine tests and questions, finally leaving after condemning me to a day of broth and potions, saying, after I complain, that I can have solid food tomorrow if the liquids stay down.

.

I spend most of the day dozing, and when I wake up next, Dad's the one sitting in the chair beside me. He looks exhausted and furious.

"Hey, Dad."

"I'm glad you're alright," he says quietly.

"Same. About you, I mean," I add hurriedly. "So, what's up?" I ask cautiously when he continues to glower.

"I don't know, James. I'm still trying to make sense of it. See, your mother's rescue was somewhat odd." I wince. "She was rescued by Sirius and a deer. Care to explain that?"

"Technically, it's a stag," I mumble.

Dad's face is turning a dark shade of red. "What the hell were you thinking, James?" he whispers very loudly. "Do you have any idea how dangerous Animagus transformations are? And not to mention how incredibly illegal it is not to be registered?"

"How do you know we're not registered?"

"I know you're not registered, because if you were, it would have been all over the Daily Prophet. At the very least, your mother and I would have known because you can't resist bragging about any accomplishment you make. Why the hell would you do this?"

"Because we can."

"You keep saying we."

I blink. "No I don't."

Dad's glare strengthens. "James," he says very evenly, "now is not the time to play games with me. Who else is an animagus? Sirius? Remus?"

"Sirius and Peter," I say quietly. "We did it for Remus."

Dad blanches. "Please tell me its not so you can be with him on the full moon." When I stay quiet, Dad gets to his feet, dragging his hands down his face. "How did I manage to raise an idiot for a son?"

I flush. "I am not an idiot. I'm one of the youngest Animagi in history."

"You cavort monthly with a werewolf! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"Do you have any idea what happens if we don't?" I snap back. "You've seen Remus's scars. Those are nothing compared to what they used to be. He magics them all the time, so they're fading bit by bit. The ones you can see are only the freshest ones. When we were first years, he was made of scars. When he gets lonely during a moon, he bites and scratches himself. At least with us, he gets injured less. And Pads and I are big animals. We can control him."

"And what happens if you can't?"

"We've been doing it for a year and he hasn't gotten the better of us yet," I say coldly.

"And what if he you bites one of you? Or you get seriously injured?"

"Padfoot is good at healing charms."

"That won't cure a werewolf bite," Dad snaps.

"We don't let him bite us."

"You won't always be able to stop him. James," Dad says, exasperation leaking into his tone. Suddenly, he groans, scrubbing his face with his hands. "I'm rubbish at this. Your mother's the strict one." He sighs, and sits back down, leaning forwards earnestly. "Look, I don't care that you're an animagus. If I'm entirely honest, I'm fairly proud of the fact you are. What I don't like is you using this skill to endanger your life every single month."

"And what I've been trying to tell you is that there is no danger."

"James…"

"Honestly, Dad," I say. "We're fine."

"I'm not happy about this."

"Yeah, I got that," I say ruefully. "How's Padfoot doing?"

Dad sighs, putting his head in his hands again. "He's fine. He'll be released tomorrow, and the doctors are thinking of letting you out the day after. If all goes well, you'll miss the first week of school at most." He hesitates before saying, "James. We need to talk about the manor."

.

The first thing that Sirius and I do when I'm released is go to Diagon Alley. Remus was able to buy all of our books and supplies, but both of our trunks burned completely and my wand got lost in the escape. I need to replace it, and we both need an entirely new wardrobe.

"Where shall we start?" Sirius asks, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "We need clothes, your wand, new brooms, what else?"

"I need a new mirror. I lost that in the manor as well. Do you still have yours?"

Sirius pulls it out of his pocket and waves it at me. "One two-way mirror accounted for."

I grimace. "Well, at least we won't have to start the spell-work from scratch."

"I'm guessing you want the wand first?" Sirius says as we approach Ollivanders.

"If you don't mind."

"Go ahead. Mind if I don't come?"

I shrug. "Meet you at Madam Malkin's after?"

"See you there," Sirius nods and disappears into the crowd.

I carefully push open the door to the wand shop and step into its perpetual dusty gloom. "Hello?"

"One moment," a quiet voice calls, I wait the few seconds it takes for Mr. Ollivander to emerge from the depths of his shop. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Dragon heartstring and aspen, 10 ½ inches, somewhat pliable if I remember correctly. Good for any number of things. What can I do for you today, Mr. Potter?"

I gulp nervously and my hand goes automatically into my hair. Ollivander's always given me the creeps. "Er, it's about my wand actually."

The wandmaker raises an eyebrow. "Not causing you problems, I hope?"

"Well, I lost it. In the attack on my house. I think the WWN did a segment on it or something."

"Yes, I heard. A tragedy. A terrible tragedy. And the loss of you wand makes it all the worse. A wonderful piece of craftsmanship, that wand was."

"Yes, I was rather fond of it," I say generously.

"I suppose you'll be needing a new one then," Ollivander says, peering down his nose at me.

I fiddle with my spectacles. "That was my thinking, yes."

"I suppose we should start by re-measuring you. It's been quite a while since you were here last."

"Whatever you think's best," I say as Ollivander pulls out his tape measure.

"What are your thoughts for a career?" He guides it through the first few measurements and then lets it take over as he begins to search the boxes on the wall.

"I'm thinking of becoming an auror."

"A fighting wand, then. Something strong. Aspen and dragon were last. But no two wands are the same. Perhaps we ought to start in the same family, though," he mutters, wandering off. After a few minutes, he comes back with a selection of boxes stacked in his arms.

"Lets start with this one, shall we?" He pulls a wand out of the top box and hands it to me, saying, "Alder and dragon heartstring, 8 ½ inches, slightly— Nope!" he says, pulling the wand from my fingers before even finishing its description. Ollivander continues with a number of dragon heartstring wands before changing cores and giving me a selection of unicorn hair and phoenix feather wands.

"Try this one," he says, handing me the second to last wand in his pile. "11 inches, mahogany, phoenix feather core. Pliable and excellent for transfiguration work. A little more power to this one. Here." He places the handle in my palm, and immediately, a fiery tingle starts to spread out from where my skin is touching the wood. I point to the desk and Accio the tape measure. It flies easily into my hand and I grin.

"We've found a winner, I see," Ollivander says with a broad smile. I pay Ollivander seven galleons for the wand and then head off to Madam Malkin's. Sirius is already being fitted by the time I arrive.

Madam Malkin clucks when she sees me, cooing over my bruised state and saying how sorry she is about the fire and how she's always loved my parents. I'm perfectly happy to let her talk, and she chats away the whole fitting. Sirius is finished first and I watch him stand at the counter, flirting with the shop assistant.

Typical.

"Alright. That's you done, dear," Madam Malkin says, helping me pull the robe off. "We'll get these owled to Hogwarts for the two of you so you needn't worry about them. They should be done in a day or so."

"Thanks," I say, following her up to the front. I pay for both Sirius's and my robes before we head out for Quality Quidditch supplies.

.

It's late by the time we head back to the Leaky Cauldron. We leave our smaller packages in our rooms, having had the larger ones sent ahead to Hogwarts, and make our way back down to the pub for supper. Dad's easy to find, sitting quietly at a table in the back and sticking out like a sore thumb among the establishments regular patrons.

Food arrives at about the same time we do and Sirius digs right in. I watch Dad.

"I won't yell at you again, if that's what you're worried about," he says quietly, lifting a spoonful of stew to his mouth.

"I didn't think you would," I lie, taking a tentative bite. It's not horrible, so I take another. Sirius is casting glances at us between bites.

Dad clears his throat. "I've spoken with Dumbledore and told him to expect you at school tomorrow afternoon."

Sirius spews stew across the table. "What?"

"But we just got out of the hospital," I protest. "And mum's still there."

"Your mother is well on her way to mending," Dad says. "She's out of danger as far as the Healers are concerned. And your education is important."

"We don't even have a house," I argue. "Shouldn't I at least stay until we have a place to live?"

"We just bought a house, actually. Remember Godric's Hollow?"

I frown. "The town where we used to summer?"

Dad nods. "That's the one. Well, the owners of the cottage we used to rent have decided, quite fortuitously for us, to move to America. I bought the house earlier today."

"So now we live in Godric's Godforsaken Hollow," I grumble.

Dad frowns at me. "It's not godforsaken, Jamesie-boy. It may be a little off the beaten track, but we have history there. Your ancestors are buried in that church yard."

"The creepy one that gave me nightmares?" I demand.

Dad almost smiles. "Yes, that one. And you'll hardly be home, so it really shouldn't be the biggest deal. It'll be just like old times."

"Except instead of summers, it'll be always," I mutter darkly.

Sirius clears his throat. "So we're going back to Hogwarts?"

Dad turns to him. "Yes. You'll floo to the Three Broomsticks in the morning and one of the professors will meet you there and escort you to the castle. You got everything you needed?"

"Our uniforms won't be ready for a day or so," I try to stall.

"Then you'll be able to wear muggle clothes," Dad snaps, losing his patience. "Like it or not, James, you are returning to school."

"But it's pointless. Why am I wasting my time in school when I could be helping fight You-Know-Who?"

"Because you are still two years away from graduating," Dad says tightly.

"And a better wizard than most of my classmates," I scoff. "I could spell circles around the seventh years, and you know it."

"You are underage, James. And what kind of life do you expect to have without an education?"

"What kind of life do you expect me to have in a world ruled by Voldemort?" I speak too loudly and a hush falls over the bar. I feel a blush creeping up my face but refuse to break eye contact with my father.

"Go to the rooms, James."

I can feel Sirius watching me. "I'm not a child."

"Well, you're certainly acting like one."

"You can't do this."

"I'm your father, James. I can do whatever the hell I please."

"For seven more months. And then I'll be finally free of you," I say venomously, getting to my feet.

"And until then, you will do as I say," Dad shoots back.

Walking up those stairs to the room is the hardest thing I've ever done.

.o.O.o.

A/N: If you have a second to type an adjective (such as cute, awful, decent, entertaining, etc.) into the review box and then click the Post Review button, I would be eternally grateful!

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