Chapter Seven: Overworked

September 1978

On the second level of the ministry of magic there was a large classroom, where half a dozen young witches and wizards sat in a large semicircle. Professor Slumpolt was sitting to one side, legs extended in front of him and arms crossed across his broad chest, and Frank Longbottom was standing in front of the students.

"In a defensive situation, it's a lot different," he was saying, "the primary concern is to protect the target. This could concern citizens, or buildings, or even objects… James?"

James' head snapped up from where it had been sagging onto his chest. The young man, usually the top student and class clown, looked little more than a ghost sitting among his classmates. His face was pale and drawn, he had dark bags under his eyes, his shoulders were sloping and he looked like he was carrying a dead weight around with him. Frank and the rest of the class looked concernedly across at him, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," confirmed James. The auror looked doubtful, but turned back to the blackboard. He scrawled an arrow down the diagram of a street before continuing. "These kinds of attacks are usually directed like so, with the Auror team moving towards the enemy through the…"

James gave a loud yawn and Frank sighed. He turned and looked across at the younger man, who had clamped a hand over his mouth guiltily. "James, when was the last time you slept?"

"Erm…" James lowered his hand and thought for a moment. Then he shrugged, his face and tone showing that he had been questioned about this too many times, "I dunno. I visit mum and then I come here! I don't have time to-" His rant was cut short by another massive yawn, and he visibly sagged in his chair. Frank shook his head.

"No. James, that's ridiculous. We said you could take a few days off when your mother was ill, but you still decided to come in. Now look at you! You're exhausted!"

"I'm fine!" insisted James.

"No, you need to go home. You can't concentrate when you're like this. Go on - You can catch up later." James showed some signs of arguing back, but Frank sent him a death glare. "Get some rest!"

After a moment of uncertain staring James sighed and nodded. Heaving himself to his feet, he nodded goodbye to his classmates and picked up his bag. It was straining under the weight of several textbooks and pieces of equipment, and James' arm shook as he held it. Throwing it over his shoulder, he made his way out of the door and began down the corridor towards the lift. He had just passed the heavy oak door which hid the Aurors cubicles from view when a voice echoed behind him.

"James!"

James turned to see Professor Slumpolt's large frame silhouetted in front of a torch. As he watched, the large man hurried quickly towards him and screeched to a halt. He looked at James for a moment before speaking. "I was meaning to tell you after class - You've been put on emergency response."

James blinked and lifted one hand to rub at his tired eyes, "Sorry sir?"

"Emergency response. I doubt it'll come to anything – you've only been here for a couple of months after all." Slumpolt shook his head slightly, "But the idea is that, what with things being as they are, we may need to call on you if there's a major attack."

"But…" They'd expect him to fight? James stared at Slumpolt for a second, and the teacher took this as confirmation that James was okay with the whole thing. "Very good!" he announced, clapping his hands together and smiling broadly. The scar on his cheek caved in and made a deep rivet down his face. "I'm sure nothing will come of it, but at least now you know!" And with a booming belly laugh he turned back to walk away.

James briefly considered calling him back and arguing, but in the end his own weariness overwhelmed him and he contented himself with a rude finger gesture at his teachers retreating back before turning towards the lift. As he waited for the doors to open he shook his head. They were using trainees as emergency response? Things must be getting bad…

James didn't go home straight away. Instead he made his way across to Diagon Alley and then down a small side street. The first shop here was a tired looking building, with its bricks stained black and its single window stuffed full of junk. Jars full of dried ingredients sat next to a globe showing all of the worlds continents joined together in a single slab, and a shabby cat sat hidden in the shadows. Above this was a simple battered sign.

M. Cox – Spells, Enchantments and Potions

Despite appearances, this shop was very well known, if rarely visited. It was owned by a man named Matthew Cox, who was one of the best known charms theorists in England. He worked here, hidden away from the rest of the world, and got most of his business through the mail. People said he didn't like to socialise and James had got the impression, on the few times that they had met, that Matthew Cox didn't think on quite the same level as everyone else. And this was the man who had become Lily's boss, and who was instructing her in the way of spell and potion invention.

James pushed open the door and a chime sounded from above him. Glancing upwards, he saw a small silver bell swinging gently. Cobwebs were shook free and floated to the floor at James' feet as it did so, and he shivered. He hated this place. There was something unearthly about the atmosphere, a whisper of secrets hidden in the towering shelves that made the small space into a kind of impenetrable maze.

"Erm… hello?" called James, the echo of his voice seeming almost blasphemous in the quiet sanctuary of the shop. He moved forward slightly, peering between the towering shelves in hope of catching a glimpse of Lily. "Hello?" he called again, and took a single step forward into the shadows of the shop.

"Yes?" said a quiet voice behind him.

James' heart leapt to his throat and he whirled around, one hand plunging for his wand, only to find himself face to face with Matthew Cox. The man had appeared completely silently from nowhere, and stood serenely behind James, who struggled to get his frantic heartbeat back under control.

Matthew Cox was in his late thirties and smartly dressed in a plain black robe that seemed strangely out of place in the tattered surroundings of his shop. He was a slight man with a handsome face and delicate, almost feminine features. His eyes were misted over and out of focus, staring unseeingly towards an unknown horizon. When he spoke his voice was laced with a melodic welsh accent. "Can I help you?"

"I… I was looking for Lily."

Cox nodded. "She's in the back. Follow me." As he moved away his robes whirled round his legs and gave the impression that he was hovering just above the floor. James shivered and followed the blind man as he moved with surprising agility down a dark gap between two shelves. Strange objects loomed down at him from their perches – a model of a human eye, a framed snakeskin and a decidedly eiree model of two children with screaming faces. Everything here would be analysed for any useful charms or properties before being sold on, and everything here gave James the creeps.

"Wait here," said Cox, and James was surprised to see that he had reached the back of the shop. Glancing around, he found he couldn't even see the door anymore, just yards of dark shelving and the black beams of the ceiling. Cox had disappeared through a back door leading to a laboratory of some kind, and James was surprised to see the cat from the window following at his heels. It noticed James staring and hissed, ears flat against its head and teeth bared as the door swung shut.

James stood where he was, shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to another as he waited for Lily or Cox to return. He transferred his attention to the locked cabinets high up on the back wall, and found his eye drawn to a delicate golden cup on a middle shelf. It had finely carved handles and what looked like a badger engraved on its thin surface. Something about this tiny trinket screamed magic and James was just standing on his tiptoes to get a better look when Lily's voice sounded out behind him.

"What are you doing here?"

James pulled his gaze away from the cup and turned to look at her. Lily had an old leather apron tied neatly round her waist and seemed to be covered in some kind of fine dust. It lay on her face and in her hair, giving the impression that she had aged by several decades since this morning. "I got sent home and thought I'd pop by," explained James,

Lily shook her head. "I told you not to go in!" James wondered, as he always did, how she couldn't be unnerved by the strange atmosphere in the shop, but didn't comment.

"Yeah, well…" James watched as Lily wiped her hands on the apron, "Hey, what's this?" He motioned towards the cup on the side and Lily moved to stand next to him, narrowing her eyes at the object. She was quiet for a moment before speaking in a deliberate, thoughtful voice.

"We're not sure. Matthew thinks it may have belonged to Helga Hufflepuff – you see the badger? But we're going to do some tests. There are some ancient protective charms on it that could be useful." She smiled and inclined her head slightly, "The funny thing is, they seem quite fresh. As in, they were cast recently. I don't know… it's really weird."

"Your whole job's weird."

"Thanks."

"Seriously. I didn't even realise you could make spells."

Lily laughed and impulsively kissed him briefly. "You're so sweet," she smiled. But then her face turned serious and she ran a finger over the bags beneath his eyes. "And you need to get some sleep."

He smirked and raised an eyebrow, "Are you offering to join me?"

"James…"

James shrugged. He had been attempting to ignore the fuzzy feeling in the back of his head and the ache in his bones, but Lily's words had brought them back in full force. "I can sleep at night. I was going to go to the hospital."

"You've been there every evening for the last fortnight!"

"Well I'm going again. She's my mum and -"

"And she doesn't want to see you working yourself into an early grave!" Lily sighed and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. In the darkness of the shop it seemed to have turned a reddish brown, though her eyes still glowed as green as ever. "I'm worried about you James. You're making yourself ill."

"I'm fine!" insisted James for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"You're not." stated Lily. "You're dead on your feet. Please, just go home, have some food and a sleep." James scoffed and she moved closer to him, "Please James. For me."

Her boyfriend rolled his eyes. "Fine! But just because it's you."

"Thank you. I'll try and get off early tonight, okay?"

"Okay. See you later then." James gave her a goodbye kiss before stepping down between the shelves. He was aware of Lily watching him for a moment, before her footsteps and the sound of a closing door echoed throughout the shop. James kept moving with his eyes kept strictly on the floor and not at the unpleasant items surrounding him. He was grateful when he finally glimpsed the door with the sunlight playing on the street outside, but not entering through the uneven glass.

When he exited onto the street and found himself back in Diagon Alley, he could hardly believe how cheerful it was. Compared to the blackness of the shop, it was reminiscent of a tropical island. The colour and noise gave James immediate relief from the strange feeling that filled him in there and, as always, he wondered what had made him so uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he nipped into another shop to buy an issue of 'Quidditch' magazine before apparating back home…


Soon it was five O' Clock and a much refreshed James was sitting crossed legged on the sofa, immersed in a thick defence textbook. The curtains were partly open, revealing the thick cloud cover that had grown during the afternoon, seeming almost purple as it hung in the polluted London sky. The only sound that ran through the room was the crackle of the fire and the occasional scratch as James jotted something down on a piece of parchment, and put it aside to lie with the other sheets scattered around him.

"James?"

He looked up to see his father's head sitting in the fire. Maybe it was the flickering of the flames, or the strange light streaming through the window, but something seemed different in his dad's familiar face. His face seemed drawn and gaunt behind the beard and his eyes were unnaturally bright. James leaned in, concern showing in his face. "Dad? You okay?"

"James… it's your mother."