Hi! Author's notes aren't usually my thing, but I thought this chapter deserved a dedication, so here goes:
This Chapter is hereby dedicated to A) My best friend, you know who you are, for reading and loving my stories, B) The Hunter's Moon for being the only one to review last chapter, as well as just about every chapter before that, and C) you! for reading this far in. Let it be known that next chapter will be a long one, and fantastically full of action, as recompense for leaving you hanging for the last few chapters.
Reviews are motivation for me to update faster!
James felt oddly emotionless as he came spinning out of the fireplace. He felt the breath leave him as a short head of raven hair came barreling into him, sobbing. He found no words of comfort, either. Professor McGonagall had told him next to nothing. 'Your mother was attacked on her way home from work. A tall man with his hood up was seen leaving the alleyway she uses to apperate home several minutes before she was found, but no one knows who he was. She is in bad shape, but they believe she will make a full recovery.'
"Professor McGonagall said she'd be okay," he told him numbly. "Have you seen her yet?"
"N-No, James, they won't let me, but-" he dropped his voice significantly, "It was Dad, James."
"W- What?" he had not been expecting that.
"Dad went r-running out of the house, and I c-couldn't chase him, my- my ankle was hurt, and th-then he came b-back, and he was c-covered in blood, and- and then someone-someone f-from the m-ministry came, I-I answered the door- I'd sh-showered, he- he beat us up first, b-but there was n-no more blood, and- and that- that gave- gave him time."
"Shhh,"James said gently, "Tell me later."
He dragged his little brother over to the Welcome Witch's desk. "We're here to see Ginny Potter," he said clearly.
The Welcome Witch was a plump woman with small spectacles that seemed to be about to fall off her nose. The name tag fastened to her green Saint Mungo's robes read MATILDA.
Matilda didn't need to check her records. Everyone knew Ginny Potter was here. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that," she simpered.
"And why not?" James asked.
"Mrs. Potter is a high-security patient, sir. We can't let anyone, and that includes minors, in to see her unless they are in the company of someone specifically listed on her card."
"I'm James Potter! I'm her son! You can let me in!" he shouted.
"Calm yourself, sir. The best I can do is request someone to come out at the next convenient time to give you an update on her condit-"
James swore under his breath. Without bothering to thank her, he stormed away. "Sit here, don't move. Where's Dad and Lily?"
"They dropped me here. I don't know." Albus replied shakily.
"They're not even in the hospital!"
Al shook his head.
Still muttering, James crossed the room to the fireplace. "10 Pine Crossing, Godric's Hollow!" he stated, and felt the fire whisk him away.
Ron too had just returned from work, and he stumped into the kitchen to find his wife busily filling a length of parchment in the study in the lower floor of their home. The fire crackled merrily in the indent in the wall of the oak paneled room, opposite of the one her desk was pushed up against. Ron tossed his cloak over the back of the chair pushed up to his own desk on the wall that faced the other way, beneath the window. His desk was much messier than his wife's.
She looked up from her writing. "Long day?" she asked.
"You've no idea. Seven raids and a nasty report to write on a-"
"Daddy?"
Ron turned to face the short boy at the doorway. He had brown eyes, freckles, and curly red hair. "What's up, Hugo?"
"James said to tell Mommy and Daddy to get the heck up here, he needs help. He said get the hell up here first, actually, but then he corrected himself."
"James? James Potter?" Ron asked, eyebrows raised.
"Sure, he swears all the time, but Auntie Ginny and Uncle Harry aren't supposed to know."
"No, where is he?"
"Upstairs in the living room. I think he's crying a little bit, but I didn't hit him, and it wasn't Fred or Albus either, because they aren't there."
Ron turned and ran up the stairs, Hermione just behind him, Hugo bringing up the rear.
James was in full flood tear mode by the time they reached him. He hated it. It made him feel stupid and babyish and weak, and those thoughts only made him cry harder. He slipped his hand into his pocket, where the knife was. He wanted to feel the pain. He fumbled to get it out, but was interrupted.
"James!" his uncle exclaimed, rushing into the room.
"What's wrong? Why aren't you in school?" Aunt Hermione asked articulately, scanning his face for answers.
"Mum's been hurt, and Professor McGonagall sent me, but they won't let me see her, and Albus is there but we don't know where Dad is, and we think he has Lily, but we're not sure." James said quickly, but a tide of panic and guilt had just slammed in to him like a brick wall. He was so stupid. What if they'd come up a minute later to find him making himself bleed?
"Ginny's hurt?" Ron asked, paling.
"I don't know how badly, they won't let me see!"
"Let's go," he replied, and hustled his wife, son, and nephew into the fireplace.