Disclaimer: See last chapter
Chapter Seven
"James…What have you done?"
There it was, the one thing James had been dreading. That look of hurt and accusation in Lily's tear-filled eyes. Even Harry was regarding him sadly and somewhat fearfully. This wasn't what he'd wanted at all.
"Lily, please. I just wanted to take care of you. Of my family. Please don't be mad, love."
His wife sighed heavily, seating herself on the small sofa across from him. The current conversation was taking place in James' study. It had been Dumbledore's study at one time, as this was the headmaster's family cottage. James had always felt more adult in this room—manlier. Right now, however, he felt like he'd been called before a greater authority to answer for his bad behavior.
"Just what do you think will happen when His Majesty finds out you've hidden his son and his family from him?" she asked quietly.
"I-I," he exhaled heavily. "I thought I could show him that he could trust me with you and Harry. That I can be a man and…"
"James, is that what you really thought?" Lily interrupted, leaning forward slightly.
With an inarticulate growl, James flopped back into his chair. "It's like he regrets letting me marry you," he huffed. "Every time he looks at me, I feel like I don't measure up…like he's just waiting for me to screw up enough so that he can take you and Harry away from me." He knew he sounded like a big baby, but the fact remained. This was exactly how he felt.
"Oh, James," she sniffed, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. "You are part of his family, too. Don't you know that? He says you remind him of his uncle and cousin—the one that started your family."
"Daky sayed Damie a fine man," Iarfhlaith piped. Wrinkling his little brow, he appeared to be searching his memory before adding, "'Cept you don't go up!"
Lily huffed out a shaky laugh. "His speech is far ahead of most little ones his age, and so is his understanding and memory. But that wasn't exactly what His Majesty said. Or meant," she tacked on belatedly.
"I expect it was pretty close, though, wasn't it?" James asked with a wry smile.
"Well, yes," she murmured somewhat guiltily. Becoming serious again, Lily went on in a pleading tone, "Nobody is waiting for you to screw up, James, but you won't think for yourself at all. You just buy into whatever Dumbledore says and you fight the king every step of the way. We don't have to be here. You can work elsewhere."
Shooting to his feet, James gritted out accusingly, "You're asking me to run. To turn my back on my friends and walk away!"
"No!" Lily shot back, her voice raised over his as she rose to face him. "I'm asking you to put your family first, our family. Put us ahead of whatever it is you think that old man wants. Iarfhlaith is too young to fight and he has to be here Above at least half the time. There is no reason at all, though, for keeping him in Great Britain when we know that a madman is out to kill him." She glared fiercely at him, tears streaming down her strained face. "What is more important to you? That old man's opinion? Or the lives of your wife and son?" Looking at her, James could tell that the words she was saying were breaking her heart, but she wasn't finished yet. "What do you think the king would do? Do you think he would put anything or anyone at all ahead of his son's life? If you want to be a man, then do it. Work with His Majesty, not against him. This isn't a game or a contest—it's our lives."
"Mummy?" Iarfhlaith croaked in a tiny voice, tugging on his mother's skirt. With a broken sob, Lily swept the little boy into her arms and pulled him close, turning away from her husband and burying her face in her son's neck as he clung to her, crying softly in fear and confusion.
When she took a step toward the door, James snapped out of his stunned and frozen state, striding forward to wrap his arms around her from behind. "Lily. My love, my heart. Don't cry. You're right...I messed up. All I ever wanted to do was measure up to you. Measure up to the baby—to the king." James sniffled, surprised to feel tears in his eyes. "We'll go to that island where your new friend lives, okay? Would you like that? Just the three of us? We'll tell the king first thing tomorrow. All right?"
"James, I married you because I love you. You already did measure up," Lily whispered, turning into his embrace.
The three stood, huddled and sniffling just inside the entryway to the small office for countless minutes. The only sounds to be heard were Iarfhlaith's ragged hiccups and the ticking of the grandfather clock from the drawing room.
A shift in the ambient magic prickled at his skin and the back of his neck causing James to drop his arms and look around in alarm. The sound of splintering wood outside shot terror straight up his spine.
"Oh, god, love, Peter betrayed us. Run," he said urgently, keeping his voice low. "Take the baby and try to get to the floo. I'll see if I can slow them down."
"James, no! Come with us!" Lily cried, tugging at his arm. Iarfhlaith was clinging to her, his arms
wrapped tightly around her neck.
"There isn't time. Go, love. I swear I won't be a hero. I just want to distract them long enough for you to get away. Go! I love you!"
"I love you, too, James," she choked, pulling his hand to her lips before turning to run.
Whatever happened next, James would meet it like a man. This time, he really would take care of his family—or die trying.
KT KT KT KT KT
As Lily frantically scrambled up the hidden staircase, she knew her husband had just lied to her. Of course he would try to be a hero. He couldn't help himself. Iarfhlaith clutched at her like a frightened limpet, confused and no doubt terrified by her fear and the discord that had so recently taken place between her and James. She would make it better later. Right now, she just had to get out. Get away with her baby. Nothing else mattered right now.
The sound of the front door slamming into the wall echoed through the house. She could hear spell fire being exchanged below.
At the floo in Iarfhlaith's nursery, Lily scooped a handful of sparkling green powder from the bowl and tossed it at the smoldering fire. When the powder stopped just before the opening and sprinkled to the floor, she snatched another handful and tried again. Her mind just wouldn't wrap around the fact that there was some sort of barrier in front of the floo—an invisible wall was preventing anything from entering the fireplace.
Could it be that a Gringotts goblin had duped them? No, she couldn't believe that. But who?
"Avada Kedavra!" she heard, followed by the hollow, hopeless echo of a body dropping to the floor.
Only the owner of the cottage could close the floo from outside the walls of his home. "Dumbledore," she gasped, backing away from the blocked opening, sick to her stomach with the knowledge of the old man's treachery and the certainty that her husband was dead.
"Mummy?" Iarfhlaith whispered as the sound of footsteps echoed in the lower hall.
Placing her son on the floor in the corner farthest from the door, Lily kneeled in front of him, taking him by his tiny shoulders. "Mummy and Papa Jamie love you very, very much, baby. And so does Daka. Don't ever forget that." She looked over her shoulder and then back to her son, her gaze boring into his mismatched eyes. Maybe she was out of her mind, but she had to try. "No matter what, don't you die. You must get back to your Daka. Promise Mummy you won't die and you'll get to your Daka as soon as you can or find Uncle Severus," she demanded desperately. Giving him a little shake, she repeated fiercely, "Promise Mummy!"
"I pwomise," Iarfhlaith swore, his childish voice thin and wavering.
He was too young to understand what he was saying, she knew, but his determination would be enough to fuel his magic. All they could do now was wait. Anti-apparition wards had gone up almost immediately and they were trapped. Standing in front of her son to block him, Lily's mind raced as she tried to cobble together some sort of plan. There had to be something she could do, but when she saw the horrific thing that appeared in the nursery doorway, she couldn't even think.
KT KT KT KT KT
"Well, if it isn't the mud-blood mummy," Voldemort sneered. "Standing in front of the babe like a vengeful, would-be Valkyrie. You needn't die in this battle, girl. Move away and you shall have other children." When the woman shook her head in the negative, he tried a different tack. "Your son will be memorialized as a hero, I assure you. You don't want him to watch his mother die, do you?"
She looked defiantly into his eyes and called out in a loud voice, "I invoke the souls of my long dead mothers. Accept my life as sacrifice and save our child of blood and heart. Protect the last of our noble line. This I beg you. So mote it be!" A dull glow shone around her for one moment and then faded away.
"Oh for the love of Slytherin," he gritted. "This is exactly the sort of interference I don't need right now," Voldemort grumbled to himself in frustration. "Stupefy!" he spat. But to his everlasting shock, the spell bounced off of her as if she carried an invisible shield of some kind. "Well, I tried," he muttered carelessly. "Avada Kadavra!"
The deadly spell struck between bright green eyes shining with acceptance, and dropped the woman to the floor instantly. Behind her stood the child, hands on his hips, his back against the wall, and rage radiating from every pore of his tiny body. Somehow Voldemort had expected fear, tears, maybe some sniveling— but anger? Hmm…well, time to get on with it.
"I guess it's your turn to die, little one," he said conversationally, raising his wand again.
"No," the little boy growled, his entire demeanor the picture of stubborn defiance. "Mummy said pwomise."
"Such a shame, but there's nothing you can do. Nothing at all," Voldemort smirked, amused by the entire exchange.
The room was well lit and Voldemort could clearly see the unholy gleam in the toddler's strange eyes as he took a step forward. "Nuf-ink? Nuf-ink, twa, wa, wa?"
"Excuse me?" But before he could make any sort of sense out of the odd words, the tiny creature raised both of his hands and a terrible, remarkable, frightening bright light exploded toward him. He barely had time to shout out, "Avada Kadavra!"
The magical blast met in mid-air and Voldemort knew one second of smug satisfaction when the child flew backward into the wall behind him. A second later the dark lord's own world exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors before fading entirely to black.
AN: For those who haven't seen the movie, don't remember, or just can't tell because it doesn't make much sense, when Iarfhlaith said, "Nuf-ink? Nuf-ink, twa, wa, wa?", he was trying to mimic his father, King Jareth, saying "Nothing? Nothing, tra ,la, la?"
This is AU, as I'm sure you can tell. You might think I'm moving a bit slow, as I suppose I am. I don't actually have an end in sight, though it's sure to be a long and winding journey. Some events from the books and/or movies will be relevant, while others will not feature at all. I guess we'll all find out when we get there. Thanks for reading. For those that review. Thank you very much. : )
