P E T A L I N T H E R A I N
Chapter 12- Blur
He flailed and let out a blood-curdling scream, clawing at his ruined retinas like a possessed man fighting an exorcism…
"MY EYES! I CAN'T SEE; MY EYES!"
She jerked forward, a raspy breath emitting from her desiccated throat as she tried to repell the memory of the man crying black blood…
"L—y? C— yo—he—me?"
Everything converged into a swirl of black and dark purple, flecked with sporadic bits of whitish light. One moment she felt the comfort of moist, peaceful earth beneath her head; the next, her cheek was pressed against something warm—something moving—for she could feel her limbs jostling at her sides.
What's going on?
Listening closer, she could hear a deep, systematic thrumming against her ear. For a moment she wondered if it was in her head—if her very brain was bellowing for answers from her—but she soon realized it wasn't the only thing she could hear. There was a crunching noise below her suspended body, pronounced in the hushed surroundings, and above her…was it a song? No…breathing.
She attempted to open her eyes, but failed, the blur of green and yellow light burning her contracted pupils. Against her better judgment she moaned, realizing there was a burning acidic taste in the back of her throat. I need water.
Abruptly, she was no longer moving. The warm beating against her ear was replaced with soft soil, and something coarse touched her hot cheek. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes.
There was a dimly lit office. Four wizards were crowded around a large desk, three of them keenly listening to an older man dressed in odd violet clothing. He was there, the youngest of the lot, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet."We won't let that happen. That's why you've called us here, isn't it, Dumbledore? We're going to find her a new hiding spot and keep her protected."
Protect me from what?
"In a fashion, yes, Frank." the older one began, folding his hands and sighing; the three other wizards looked determined due to the prospect of such an imperative assignment, "It will be our mission to kidnap her before Voldermort does. My plan is for you three to see her safely to a small cottage on Windermere Lake, where she will stay until I personally move her to Hogwarts…"
Lily struggled to concentrate on the conversation as it faded when the warm hand on her dirty face retracted. She whimpered, her arms reaching up to her face and her knees pressing against her chest in a fetal position.
"It's alright, Lily. Can you open your eyes?"
Lily felt disoriented; there were too many voices distracting her from contemplating the man speaking to her. She felt very far away; like she had just awoken from a dream she'd been living in for years and reality was just setting in. This is it you know. There is no going back…now you are in a world with wands, spells, wizards…a Dark Lord…
"Please, Lily… we might be in danger. I need you to wake up."
Lily heard the pleading in his voice, but barely distinguished what he was saying. He seemed agitated; she could feel the contagious anxiety pulsing from his hot skin. She knew she needed to open her eyes, but she was hesitant.
"Lily—"
It was like all her life she'd been trapped below the surface of a lake, her lungs yearning for air as she relentlessly struggled to swim toward the warmth of the sun…
Open. Common, you must.The stranger inhaled in quiet relief when Lily's eyes finally fluttered open. He remembered the unique jade colour, which now retained a hint of yellow as they timidly reflected the dying sun. She looked oddly statuesque, her arms rooted to her sides and her lips parted; even her eyes appeared emotionless as they attempted to register her surroundings.
Where…?
Lily looked directly above her, not noticing the man crouched at her side; instead, she took in the hushed dance of the tree canopies, the subtle sound of unseen birds and brooks bubbling in the distance, and the potent smell of moist soil. She was in a dimly-lit forest absolutely littered with leafy Alders and Black Poplars, but she couldn't understand how she got there.
"Are you alright?" the stranger asked hesitantly, carefully maneuvering into her line of vision.
"Water…" she rasped painfully, closing her eyes again and clutching at her throat; she felt as if she'd crawled across a desert in the beating sun and her esophagus had crusted over. Mysteriously, all her senses had been acute; one of the reasons her 9pain was more intolerable than usual.
"Aguamenti."
Lily sputtered in satisfied surprise when a stream of water spilled into her open mouth and wet the back of her tongue. A wave of cool relief spread throughout her body as she gulped down the heavenly liquid, her taut muscles slackening and her scratchy insides becoming soothed. What was that word he used?"Is that better?"
When Lily finally focused on the man above her, her lungs exploded; instead of filling with air, they packed with a dormant power that suddenly manifested in her every fiber. The tips of her fingers began to tingle and her head felt weightless on her shoulders…
She hadn't really looked at him in the warehouse. He had smooth honey hair, flecked with gold. His jaw—square and elegant—was dusted with light brown stubble and his thin eyebrows were crinkled in curious concern, a very contradictory thing.
But those eyes…
Hidden beneath puffy eyelids, they were a thespian blue…a blue that looked like it had seen the world a hundred times over and had brightened with knowledge. She could tell by their cloudy depth that he was an old soul trapped in a young man's body.
Lily felt like she'd been reacquainted with a lost friend.
"Frank." Lily's voice cracked, her eyes opening and closing as they adjusted to the light that filtered in through the thick trees that surrounded them, "What—where are we?"
Maybe…Windermere Lake? That's where he was supposed to take me.
Frank took a flabbergasted step back, his jaw slackening and his unsettled eyes growing round as he regarded the quiescent girl in disbelief. His debonair features were crinkled in amazement—something Lily did not miss.
"What's wrong?" Lily shakily inquired as she managed to push her body up from the ground and face him, her expression wary as she perceived his sudden fear.
Frank did not budge from his moss-covered spot in the forest as he continued to regard Lily as if she had grown three heads; it took him a moment to muster what he wanted to say, "Lily…how do you know who I am?"
Lily blinked confusedly, her eyes suddenly growing hollow as she pondered his words. She'd heard Dumbledore speak his name…she'd seen him in the stone-walled office with two others, Kingsley and…Moody perhaps? They'd been talking about saving her…most of their conversation was a blur, she could only recall parts of it…
But…how do I know this? Did I use magic again?
"I'm not sure how I know… but you are Frank…Frank Longbottom. You're on some kind of mission…a mission to save me, I think. I didn't quite catch the part about why though."
Frank remained silent for a moment, disbelief seeping into his eyes as he took in every feature of the astonishing redhead. He was so consumed by her impossible knowledge that he fleetingly forgot what his purpose was.
"I don't understand…" Frank whispered seriously, his eyes curiously boring in Lily's as he stepped closer to her, "Who have you been speaking with? You must tell me, for our own safety."
Lily paused, feeling uneasy as she deciphered the panic on his handsome face. How could she explain to him that she didn't even know how she knew such things? The way he stared at her…it made her feel abnormal. Even beside Frank, a wizard, she appeared to be different. Lily shuddered.
"No one has spoken to me, Frank. I just know. Don't ask me to explain it, because I can't." Lily replied impatiently, the stubborn words rushing from her lips as her mind continued to run a mile a minute, "If anyone should be explaining themselves, it should be you. You know more magic than I do; I've only just found out I'm a witch. You tell me how I know."
Frank was taken aback by Lily's sudden fieriness; one minute she had been unconscious in his arms, the picture of vulnerability, and the next she was awake, knowledgeable and tenacious. He imagined her reaction to awakening in the middle of a forest to be much different—fearful, panicked, overwhelmed—but instead she seemed fervently curious, inexplicably calm and even a little irritated.
He frowned; she was even more than he expected.
"There's a lot to explain… I'll let Dumbledore handle that." Frank replied distractedly, his vague stare suddenly filling with intent again, "We'll figure you out later. Right now you and I have to focus on reaching the safe house. Someone burst into the warehouse just as we left, so I apparated a distance away so as to not give away the location. We've got to hurry."
Lily scrunched up her nose in confusion, "Apparated? What does that mean?"
"I don't have time to tell you." Frank retorted briskly, the anxiety of the mission overriding his usually polite manner, "Can you run?"
"Of course I can run. I have two feet, don't I?" Lily snapped back in annoyance, miffed that Frank refused to give her any answers; she folded her arms over her chest. She wasn't usually so stubborn and irritable around complete strangers, but she felt bizarrely comfortable around Frank.
She knew she shouldn't be poised or polished…not if she wanted answers.
Frank rolled his eyes at the stubborn girl, secretly astonished—if not engrossed —by her raw manner, and held out his hand, "Let's go then."
"I can run by myself, thanks." Lily glared impudently, refusing his upturned palm.
"Yes, but being a lady, you'll hardly be able to keep pace with me." Frank insisted, his blue-grey eyes narrowing as he began to get aggravated; after all, the only women that ever dared to challenge him, a Lord of the court, were female members of the Order.
"We'll just have to see about that, won't we?" Lily countered lightly, a rebellious smirk playing on her porcelain face as she took pleasure in his annoyance.
She wasn't sure if it was out of shock or emotional fatigue that she hadn't lapsed into another breakdown, instead reveling in the company of a complete stranger. Her mood was simply inexplicable…
"You're wasting time!" Frank growled from behind his gritted teeth; he inwardly chastised himself for losing his cool, though it seemed impossible around the girl.
"Then you better start running so I can follow." Lily snapped, her emerald orbs flickering like a candle flame as she regarded the aggravated man, "What are you waiting for, hmm?"
Frank grumbled again, his temper flaring, and suddenly took off toward the east, whipping what Lily assumed to be a wand from his pocket in the process. Lily gulped and, ten second later, began to sprint after him.
Leafy trees and green foliage blew past her in a blur, and beneath her feet branches and twigs snapped under her weight, piercing the eerie silence in the forest. Her lithe legs moved freely beneath her kilt, though she was surprised how much they protested with each movement. It occurred to her that she'd done quite a bit of running that day…
Lily wasn't too far behind, but far enough that Frank eased his quick pace to match hers. Adrenaline continued to push Lily forward, further than she had ever gone, but after nearly twenty minutes of non-stop racing her body began to slow.
"Didn't I tell you?" Frank goaded in silent satisfaction, smirking as Lily came to a dead halt and keeled over to catch her breath; she glared harshly up at him when he grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, but did not dispute.
Just as they both broke into a run again, Frank yanking her tired body forward, Lily's vision distorted and the forest before her shifted:
There, nestled in the same woods, was a magnificent stone cottage with flowering ivy clawing up the sides towards the chimney. The medieval architecture was breathtaking, but it was obvious no one had lived there for centuries, for some of the stone was crumbling and the surrounding plant life seemed to consume it. The property and surrounding gardens, though overgrown, held a regal air and demanded a degree of respect.
He was walking determinedly toward it, a taller, dark-skinned man walking in front of him. She felt how he longed to be inside its protective circle.
As he grew closer he stopped with the man…Kingsley… at his side. They looked down at the ground and noticed the soil ahead was a different colour…a reddish hue as opposed to the muddy brown they were tramping on.
Kingsley picked up a small pebble, rolling it in his palm, and threw it toward the soil. He watched as the pebble hit an invisible barrier and ricocheted back before it could land on the ground.
"Dumbledore put a protective shield charm around the perimeter of the cottage. It's very advanced; the only way to get through is with a password. You'll have to apparate a distance away and travel by foot."
"What's the password?" he asked.
"Elderflower."
Lily gasped as the images dissipated and her eyes readjusted. They were no longer running; Frank had let go of her hand and was standing in front of her, carefully observing the forest floor. In the far distance stood the sturdy stone cottage Lily had just seen in her mind…
He's looking for the soil discoloration…
Frank's head immediately snapped up when he heard her quick intake of breath.
"What's wrong? Have you hurt yourself?" Frank demanded acutely, his pale eyes suddenly filling with concern, a contradiction of his previous frustration.
"No…I…" Lily began hesitantly, the disquiet lingering behind her pupils causing Frank's face to contort in bewilderment, "You're going to think I'm crazy, but…I'd like to test something."
Frank's lips parted, about to retort, but all he could manage was a flabbergasted gape as Lily sinuously brushed past him, her breathtaking eyes trained on the ground.
Lily observed the contrasting colour pallet of the soil before her and bent over to grab a little stone. She snapped back up and examined it in her hand before looking up again. Just as Kingsley had done, Lily tossed the stone in front of her.
She was not surprised when it bounced back and landed at the crown of her feet. Lily continued to walk forward, her arms extended in front of her, until her hands touched the invisible, plastic-like barrier. It was solid and dry.
"Elderflower." Lily whispered cautiously, her expectant eyes widening as a gold streak of light sparked and suddenly carved out a rectangular door before her.
Magic…
It appeared to be floating in the middle of the forest without hinges; Lily couldn't hide her amazement, "This Dumbledore must be a very powerful wizard…"
"How did you—?" Frank began desperately, instinctual frenzy suddenly flickering to calculated intimidation; the skilled Auror within him overruled his fervent curiosity with the girl, "Turn around and keep your hands near your face where I can see them."
Lily noted the dispassion in Frank's voice and turned to find his wand pointed at her and his expression dour; she stiffened, "What are you doing? Don't be ridiculous…"
"I can't ignore the amount of information you know. You could be a death eater, a distraction." Frank replied sternly, though Lily could seem a glimmer of doubt in his eyes, "Put your hands near your face or I'll have to make you."
"You can't be serious!" Lily exclaimed, outrage curving on her lips as she disregarded Frank's warning and took a step toward him…
"Incarcerous!" Frank agilely reacted to Lily's sudden movement, conjuring ropes from the end of his wand that magically bound around her wrists and ankles. Lily gasped as the slapdash spell restricted her movement and caused her knees to buckle.
"Frank!" Lily shrieked, her green eyes alive with fury as she struggled against her magical bonds; she looked pathetically weak, crumpled on the ground, "What's your problem? First you kidnap me and bring to this godforsaken place without explanation, and now you tie me up? Let me go!"
"If you're telling the truth, I'll apologize profusely later. However, until Dumbledore and I confirm your identity and figure out how you know what you do, you'll be under my control. It would be reckless of me to act otherwise." Frank maintained, though inexplicable guilt nagged at him for treating a lady—if she was one and not a death eater disguised by polyjuice—so poorly.
"If I was a death eater, whatever that may be, I wouldn't be stupid enough to let you know everything I do." Lily grumbled angrily when Frank hooked his hand under her arm and pulled her to her feet, his wand resting on her back, "You told me to trust you back in the warehouse, and I did. I suppose it was my mistake to assume you'd trust me too."
Lily's fury dissipated as her scowl turned into a look of indifference and she turned her head away from him. Frank sighed, annoyed that the girl's quiet anger—which was more deafening then her shrill protests—made him second-guess his professional decision. Frank couldn't comprehend why her displeasure with him bothered him so much.
"Let's get inside the circle before anyone decides to follow." Frank instructed, though less harshly than before, "And I'm warning you; try and disapparate within the shield and you'll splinch yourself in half. There's an anti-apparation charm."
"I can't even walk tied up like this, never mind disapparate." Lily snapped angrily, deciding to hide her curiosity about apparation.
Frank frowned and slackened the rope around Lily's ankles so she could take small strides in front of him; however, he kept a firm grip on her upper arm. When Frank made contact with Lily's bare arm, her vision clouded again, though not as thickly as before:
He stood in the same woods… in a small clearing devoid of trees. Looking around, he closed his eyes in concentration and turned in his spot, his hands balled into fists…
Then it all vanished. When he opened his eyes he was standing in a cobbled street below a sign that read 'The Leady Cauldron'…he looked down at his right hand and realized his index finger was missing.
Frank is thinking about apparation…
"Ah, Frank. Too close to the barrier, I expect. The charm must slightly extend past it. Lucky you only lost a finger; shall I go back and look for it with you?"
"Thank you, Lord Dumbledore, but I remember the spot." he replied, slightly repulsed at the appearance of his 4-fingered hand, "I won't make that mistake again. Glad you had us test the site…"
Lily compelled herself to return from Frank's thoughts as he ushered her forward toward the golden door that still shimmered before them. Pressing softly on the transparent shield, the door slowly opened and Frank and Lily entered into the protective circle, Lily struggling to keep her surprising revelation to herself…
When he touches my bare skin I can see his thoughts…
It made perfect sense. When Frank had touched Lily's cheek, he'd been thinking of the mission; when he'd grabbed her hand to help her run, he'd been remembering how to get through the barrier; when he'd touched her arm, he'd been thinking about the time he splinched when he'd apparated too near the charm-protected shield.
Lily was stunned. How was she doing that? She wasn't using a wand, and she'd only just discovered she was a witch... Was every witch and wizard able to do what she was doing? Frank seemed completely taken off guard by what she knew—information he was providing her with by touching her—which made Lily surmise that such a gift mustn't be standard…
Was she reading his mind? She wasn't really hearing thoughts as much as seeing them. She had an idea what Frank was thinking about because she saw and heard the memories he was recalling…he was using them to answer questions he had, or perhaps he was just simply thinking, and memories popped up to accompany those thoughts…
If I don't get answers I may explode…
"Splinching…it's really quite disgusting, isn't it?" Lily suddenly inquired lightly, a pleased smirk twitching on her lips due to Frank's visibly aghast reaction, "I guess I don't have to ask if you found your finger, seeing how you're squeezing my arm to death."
Frank froze, his blue eyes becoming alarmingly transparent and his mouth contorting into a partial scowl as he turned toward the teasing girl, "Already an accomplished Legilimens, are we? An unlikely skill for a witch who's just realized she's capable of magic. We'll see what Dumbledore thinks of you."
"Are you mocking me?" Lily raised an impertinent eyebrow at Frank's distrustful, suddenly sour nature, "I just hope he's more hospitable than you."
Frank momentarily eyed the feisty girl, a million implausible explanations racing around in his head, before snapping forward again. Lily rolled her eyes.
When the pair reached the neglected building Frank put up his hand, signaling Lily to stop, and pressed a warning finger to his lips. Lily remained rooted to her spot, suddenly bewildered, as Frank cautiously slinked up to the door and pressed his ear against it. He then gently trounced on the oval door at the front of the manor five times, each knock obvious and deliberate.
"Password?"
Lily recoiled and slapped her bound hands over her mouth to stop from crying out. The door handle, which had previously been a rusty gold colour, suddenly sprouted little yellow eyes, a mouth, a nose, and a pair of heavy-set eyebrows. The once inanimate object had an elderly voice that was deeper than any human voice Lily had ever heard.
"Pepper Imps."
The door knob grunted and a moment later multiple snaps and clicks behind the door sounded. It swung open, the hinges begging to be oiled, and revealed no one standing at the doorway. Lily arched her neck and saw an untidy, narrow hallway cluttered with dusty portraits and pedestal tables housing candle sticks that led deeper into the little cottage.
"Ok, in you go." Frank ordered, stepping aside and ushering a skittish Lily—who tried to catch a glimpse of the door knob again—into the cottage, closing and dead-bolting the door behind him; the hallway was submersed in gloom once again.
"T-t-that door knob t-t-talked!" Lily sputtered stupidly, deep worry lines settling around her eyes as the man busied himself with lighting candles; she naively wondered if she was like Gretel, lured into the witch's den with sweets only to be thrust into an oven when she wasn't looking…
With my luck, I'll be turned into a talking knob for the back door…
"With all you've seen and done, you are most startled by a talking door knob?" Frank scoffed dubiously, the silly comment causing him to reconsider his death-eater-in-disguise theory.
"Would you take me to Dumbledore already?" Lily insisted crossly, Frank's mocking chuckles making her want to slap the stupid grin off of his lordly face, "I've grown rather tired of you."
"Trust me, you're no picnic either." Frank retorted in amusement; some of his Auror façade had slipped away now that he was sheltered in the safe house, "Let's go then, the room at the end of the hallway."
Lily slowly walked down the melancholy hallway toward the oval door at the end, her footsteps causing the ancient floor to cacophonously creak. She took in the odd appearances of the dust-coated portraits haphazardly hung on the walls, most of which depicted haggard-looking, hooked-nose witches and wizards in lopsided hats, and flinched when she noticed the intricate cobwebs that hung from the ceilings like silk canopies.
"I don't suppose you could've chosen a less sinister spot for this little meeting?" Lily whispered uneasily, shrinking as she further penetrated the ghostly manor.
"Agrippa von Nettesheim lived here in the fifteen-hundreds. He was one of the pioneers of Renaissance magic; he published the Three Books of Occult Philosophy." Frank calmly responded to Lily's sudden anxiety, following in her wake, "The manor has been abandoned for centuries. It's proven useful, though von Nettesheim's spirit finds it amusing to wail all night. One of the reasons it's always been abandoned; muggles think it's haunted."
Lily skeptically looked over her shoulder at Frank, her mouth open in frightened astonishment, "What do you mean, his spirit? Like a ghost?"
"Why don't you read my mind and find out?" Frank challenged nimbly, his eyes darkening with intensity as he skeptically bore into Lily; she could tell by the determined etch on his face that he was testing her.
"I can't." Lily replied blankly, not about to reach out and touch him.
"I'm practicing Occlumency against you; you won't be able to read my mind this time or at any other time, now that I know." Frank stated, a small, gloating smirk smoothing his lips.
"Making assumptions about me without knowing me makes you seem quite arrogant, and it will make you feel foolish when you are proven wrong." Lily countered agilely, pursing her lips in vexation; she couldn't manage to keep the headstrong attitude she usually demonstrated at school at bay around him.
Frank's boyish grin worsened as he reached in front of Lily and clasped the brass handle of the oval door they were stopped in front of, "Time to see Lord Dumbledore now, do try and be polite."
Frank pushed open the rounded door and waited for Lily to step over the threshold. Lily took a deep breath and awkwardly entered the musty, book-strewn room, the bonds around her feet still immobilizing her.
Here we go…
The room, which smelled like an abandoned archive, was cluttered with shelves storing scrolls and rusty brass instruments. On the ceiling was a magnificent fresco, smudged with age, that depicted an array of mythical creatures Lily had never seen, and along the adjacent wall were dirty bay windows which emitted bits of light that sparkled on the crumbling mosaic floor.
Lily's breath caught in the back of her throat, the individual that matched her overcome stare was grander in real life than in Frank's memories…
He sat in the middle of the room behind a plain mahogany desk, dressed in shimmering cerulean robes and a matching hat, which looked like they were spun by Athena herself. His brilliant eyes, which matched his luxurious attire, shone from beneath half-moon spectacles. His softly wrinkled face creased into a momentous, fatherly smile when Lily tentatively entered; she couldn't help but become immediately affectionate of him.
Lord Dumbledore rose gracefully from behind the desk, having the litheness of a white lion, and walked up to Lily; as he did so, the ropes that bond her hands and feet slipped away and fell to the ground. Lily watched his movements behind wonder-filled eyes, having never been in the presence of such an enchanting being.
When he reached out to grab her hands, his blue eyes warm within unspoken wisdom, Lily did not protest, "It is an honor to finally meet you, Lily. I've been expecting you. I am Lord Albus Dumbledore."
"Yes, I know." Lily couldn't help but mirror his kindly smile; the older man's expression remained pleasantly warm, despite Lily's cleverness, "I think the pleasure will be all mine, Lord Dumbledore, especially once you've explained to me what's going on."
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled in amusement, the weight and majesty of his every word filling Lily with anticipation, "I think you have been kept waiting long enough. Let us begin, my dear."
RAF Hawkinge, an airbase that would later be nicknamed Hellfire Corner, was bustling with activity like usual, Royal Air Force pilots fueling their planes—either Hawker Hurricanes or Supermarine Spitfires—or doing repairs on one of the eight guns paired off near the fuselage. Two triple-bay Belfast Hangars and a double-bay Belfast hanger were positioned along the north-western side of the site; near the landing strip was a tall observation tower where personnel waited for incoming signals from the radar system—a system that could track incoming German warplanes and give the Fighter Command sufficient time to get airborne.
It was at this base, located along the path the Germans would take in order to get from northern France to England, where James Potter and Sirius Black were stationed.
It was mid afternoon, and though the sun was high in the sky, its blonde rays did not cast down upon the concrete air base, which was tucked away in the Kent countryside. Portentous salt and pepper clouds splayed across the landscape and blocked out its warmth, doing nothing to improve the moods of pilots bidding their time below.
James Potter was silently lying across one of the 12 meter wings of the Hawker Hurricane he flew, staring up at the ill-omened English sky. The temperature—a staggering 35 degrees Celsius—had increased in the past hour and the wind had picked up, causing moisture to rise and, with invisible hands, mold dark cumolo-nimbus clouds that resembled stunted explosions.
James watched the clouds with unspoken emotion, his eyebrows creased, jaw set in a tentative frown and his chocolate eyes brimming with disquiet. An unnerving feeling had settled in his gut and was slowly chewing away at his flesh—he wasn't sure how, but he knew that change was coming…
He didn't know, however, if he'd be ready for it.
"You know, if you scowl like that for much longer your face will stay like that permanently." Sirius mused conversationally, idly painting a design on the fuselage of his plane, a Spitfire, nearby, "Wow…look at that! I didn't think I could get anymore talented than I already am."
James snapped out of his daze and slightly turned his head to glimpse the picture Sirius had painted on his plane beside the distinguishable ally symbol, which looked like target coloured red, white, blue and yellow. It was a black, shaggy dog leaping forward, as if about to pounce on an unseen prey. James' eyes flitted from the design to Sirius who, for a moment, James barely recognized.
Like James, Sirius was dressed in the typical RAF uniform—a B-10 jacket with a fur collar, inflammable B3-A gloves, leather RAF-designed Escape boots with a built-in knife, and a green camouflage scarf cut from a parachute. Near the wheels of his Spitfire were the rest of Sirius' gear—a C helmet with MK VIII goggles, a flight pilot rig composed of a parachute and first aid kit (filled with a tourniquet, Morphine Syrette and one bandage), and a life preserver that was to be worn over the already stifling uniform.
Sirius Black, once only seen in the most expensive clothing and designer tuxedos, was outfitted for war in heavy gear and air force fatigue; despite this, the mischievous twinkle had not left his roguish eyes.
"What'd you say I charm the dog to bark every time someone walks by?" Sirius continued eagerly, talking more to himself then to James, who had settled back into his sky-gazing position, "That'll teach anyone to touch my plane…yeah, I think I'll do it—"
"Sirius." James growled sternly, closing his eyes as he adjusted his head on the cold metal of the wing, "What did I tell you—?"
"Sirius, if you do magic you'll get us both found and pulled out of the war by Dumbledore." Sirius mimicked in a high-pitched voice, rolling his eyes as he approached James' Hawker and climbed into the exposed cockpit, "James, I'm sure Dumbledore has more important things to take care of then chase around a couple foolish wizards trying to get themselves killed."
"If you think what we're doing is foolish, you can go." James spat, suddenly jerking up into a sitting position and narrowing his eyes on his defiant friend, "I didn't ask you to come."
"And tell me, what exactly have we accomplished so far?" Sirius snapped back uncharacteristically, gritting his teeth together in frustration, "Last time I checked, Potter, all we've done is forged a couple military documents and landed ourselves in this dump. All we do is wait around for an attack that isn't coming."
"We will be attacked, and soon. If you want to go, then go, but don't do magic and get me caught with you." James insisted angrily, ripping off his heavy gloves in exasperation.
Sirius gripped the Hawker's steering mechanism between his hands and sighed, suddenly catching sight of the tattered picture James had pinned to the switchboard. It was black and white, unmoving, and depicted a couple; the male was facing the camera with the long-haired female draped in his arms. It was the tabloid photo of James and Lily that had been featured on the front page of The Sunday Chatter.
Sirius looked somber as he fingered the shabby photograph and looked up at his best friend, who miserably internalized his heartache, "You miss her… don't you?"
James' eyes irritably scrutinized Sirius, who he imagined was teasing him, but when Sirius did not grin, James' expression alleviated and he tiredly closed his eyes. He paused for a moment, mulling over Sirius' question, "I've never felt this way before Sirius…I can barely think of anything else. When I left her there, standing in that field…it felt like…like I was abandoning her, like I was breaking her. I've never felt so hollow before."
If possible, Sirius' face became graver as he wordlessly listened to his best friend and watched his aristocratic wall—a wall he'd learned to put up to mask his emotion—crumble around him.
Sirius tucked the picture back into a slot on the plane's switchboard and sighed deeply, his ocher eyes filling with sympathetic understanding, "James…you love her."
It wasn't a question; it was the truth, and it smacked James so hard in the face his eyes flew open and filled with moisture, like he'd been boxed in the nose. He sat up and bore into Sirius, vulnerability swimming in his confused orbs and slackening his jaw.
Could it possibly be true? After all that he'd been taught—to guard his feelings and be on the defense—after all he had seen—his parents' cold relationship, the arranged marriages of the aristocracy and the arctic romances forced upon them all—how could he, Lord James Potter, possibly find love?
"Yes," James repeated softly, swallowing hard and closing his eyes again, as if to shield himself from the bitter truth, "I love Lily…I cannot bear the thought of never seeing her again. Thinking of it…it makes me physically ill."
Sirius' eyebrows crinkled in distress as he climbed out of the cockpit and settled himself on the wing with James, wrapping an arm around James' shoulder in brotherly fashion, "I promise you James, you will see her again."
James, resting his head on his bent knees, sighed and slapped a friendly hand on Sirius' back, an indication of camaraderie and unspoken thanks. Sirius cracked an amused grin and slid off the wing of James' Hawker after him.
There was no more need to talk of James' love for Lily; it was now understood by both James and Sirius. Sirius only hoped he could keep his promise.
"I apologize for the abruptness—and apparently hostile nature—of your arrival here. I'm sure you must be overwhelmed with questions, my dear. Won't you take a seat and enjoy some mint-leaf tea before we begin?" Dumbledore spoke cordially, gesturing with a withered hand toward one of the auburn chairs before his desk.
Lily smiled, but before she could accept Dumbledore's hospitality and proceed forward, Frank stepped forward and put a restricting hand on Lily's shoulder.
"Frank, don't be absurd." Lily looked over her shoulder and hissed, her excitement melting away as she vehemently glared at the handsome wizard; she didn't want him to ruin Dumbledore's impression of her.
He matched her glare stubbornly, than ceremoniously turned to Dumbledore, who looking mildly intrigued, "I believe there are a few things we need to consider about Ms. Everard before we proceed."
"Everard?" Lily challenged sardonically, momentarily forgetting she and Frank weren't the only two in the room, "Some captor you are, you don't even know my own name."
"Actually, it's you who doesn't know your own name." Frank snapped back irritably, his lordly façade also slipping away.
"Excuse me? I don't know my own name?" Lily's jaw became rigid and flames flickered behind her eyes; she looked ready to murder Frank.
"You heard m—!"
"I'm very sorry to interrupt, but may I suggest we first ensure our plan has gone smoothly and that the mission hasn't been endangered and quarrel later?" Dumbledore convincingly interrupted, clasping his hands together as he calmly regarded the two young wizards behind his spectacles.
Frank and Lily immediately shut up, startled by his calm demeanor; then, in sync, both appeared bashful due to their childish behaviour.
"My apologies." Frank mumbled quietly, turning away from Lily—who he found to be infuriating—and instead focusing on Dumbledore.
Dumbledore looked at Lily, perhaps expecting the same response, but she merely bit the bottom of her lip shyly.
"I am curious as to why Lily has been brought to me in chains. Frank, it is quite uncharacteristic of you to treat a lady in such a way. Would you care to explain?"
"I felt it necessary, Lord Dumbledore, as Lily—if that is who she really is—has demonstrated remarkable knowledge concerning the mission. Having only just learned that she possesses magical ability, I find it suspicious that she is already an accomplished Legilimens." Frank began professionally, mustering a plausible explanation for his actions; there was, however, a hint of nervousness in his tone, "I recommend we verify who she is before further jeopardizing the mission."
"A Legilimens you say?" Dumbledore mused in subdued curiosity, his eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles as his gaze focused back on Lily, who could not mask her annoyance with the Auror, "Lily, do you know what a Legilimens is?"
"No…but I've gathered it's something to do with mind reading." Lily replied, wondering if such an ability was illegal or seen as a bad thing in the wizarding world based upon Frank's reaction.
"A practiced Legilimens can read the mind of their victim like a book, seeing memories and thoughts that they later interpret. Unless one is an expert, eye contact is necessary to do this." Dumbledore explained eloquently, turning back to Frank, "What has led you to such a conclusion?"
"She knew about the safe house…the password and force field protecting it. She knew of my splinching accident…my name…things she couldn't possibly know unless she's an undercover death eater with previous knowledge or a skilled Legilimens. She could be a planned distraction for all we know."
"How intriguing…" Dumbledore trailed off, his eyes fixed on Lily—who shifted uncomfortably—but his mouth still holding a hint of a smile, "My dear, to put Frank's Auror mind at ease, will you allow me to verify your identity with a simple spell? You must understand we have gone to great lengths to find and protect you, and must continue to take every precaution necessary."
Lily warily watched Dumbledore pull a spindly, jagged wand from his pocket and timidly gulped, "Will it…hurt? This… spell?" The word felt foreign on her tongue.
"Certainly not. I wouldn't dream of hurting you, dear Lily. Quick and painless, I assure you." Dumbledore smiled sincerely.
Lily felt hesitant, remembered the gruesome effects of the last spell she saw used on another person, but couldn't help but feel compelled to see another performed, even if it was on her; "If it will led to answers and stop Frank looking at me like that… I'll do it."
Frank frowned.
"Excellent. Just hold perfectly still, if you please." Dumbledore smiled and raised his wand, lightly tapping it on Lily's shoulder and audibly announcing "Specialis Revelio."
Lily scrunched up her nose and closed her eyes, leery of the spell despite Dumbledore's comforting words, but, after seconds without sensation, she squinted through her eyelids at Dumbledore, "Did it work?"
"No, it did not." Dumbledore smiled brightly, Frank removing his hand from Lily's shoulder and respectfully shrinking backwards, "If you had indeed been disguised by any type of concealment charm or potion, the spell would have reverted you back to your original form. As you are currently in your original form, the spell took no effect. Satisfied, Lord Longbottom?"
Aristocratic shame suddenly gripped him. Frank had gone out on a limb—a potentially embarrassing one—and hoped he hadn't jeopardized Dumbledore's faith in his abilities.
"Yes Lord Dumbledore… Lily—I apologize for my actions... I hope you will forgive me." Frank courteously interjected after Dumbledore's explanation, bowing his head and eyeing Lily, who looked a little shocked, tentatively; he considered reaching out for her hand and kissing it, like any gentleman would do to a lady, but decided she wasn't the type to be wooed by regal manners.
"Oh…er—apology accepted." Lily returned quickly, suddenly feeling meek under the gaze of the young wizard; he really was quite handsome…
"Excellent! Shall the three of us get down to business then? There are still a few loose ends to tie up." Dumbledore promptly ushered the two inhabitants of his office toward his desk, procuring another chair for Frank and summoning three china cups and a pot of tea with his wand, "Please, take a seat, both of you."
Lily strode across the dusty library and plunked down in one of the soft buttoned chairs, accepting a tea cup and saucer, which floated into her hands by magical means, and desperately tried to ignore Frank's constant gaze. He did not accept tea, instead folding his arms in his lap and leaning forward in his chair, "Lord Dumbledore…have you received an update from Kingsley yet?"
Just as the words left his mouth, the desk began to rumble, the wood vibrating against the creaky floor. Lily recoiled in fright, but Dumbledore took a seat and wrenched open one of the drawers, pulling a silver-polished mirror out and holding it out for Frank, "Won't you hold this up for Lily and I to see?"
Lily skeptically eyed the hand-held mirror, wondering how it could make the whole desk roar and of its importance, and nearly fell off her chair when Frank angled the glass toward her and the face of a stately black man with noble features appeared.
"Lord Dumbledore." the mirror spoke equably, the masculine voice clear as a bell; though he was addressing the older man, he was staring at Lily with a slightly abashed expression. She squirmed, feeling like a circus animal on display.
"Your report, Kingsley?" Dumbledore inquired professionally, twiddling his wand between his spidery fingers as he looked over Frank's shoulder in thought, "As you can see, Frank has brought Lily safely to the manor."
"Yes." Kingsley turned his inquisitive gaze from Lily to Dumbledore, turning square, "Had Moody and I showed up any later, the death eaters would have apprehended her before us. Two were dispatched to the school early this morning to collect her—the Dark Lord must have become aware of her once she displayed magic last night. One death eater, identified as Wilkes, attacked her on the grounds when we arrived. Alastor—disguised by polyjuice—stunned and blinded him, but he was able to escape along with the second. We weren't able to get a look at the second, as he was hooded."
Dumbledore paused after Kingsley stopped, turning to the anxious redhead, "Lily, you please tell me everything that happened to you before you met up with Frank in the warehouse, including your encounter with the two wizards that came to the school."
Everything she had previously pushed to the back of her mind came rushing back; the death eaters coming to the school the previous night, turning invisible, breaking into Agatha's office, struggling with the perverted wizard outside the school…
"The two—death eaters, did you call them?—they didn't just come to the school this morning, they were also there the night before. I heard them on the grounds when I was in my room…they were wearing masks and speaking of a…a…a Dark Lord, saying he was looking for a girl with magical ability. I think it was then that I realized they were looking for me."
"Merlin…" Frank whispered in astonishment, sharing a startled glance with Dumbledore, who was listening intently, "Did they come into the school?"
"Yes, they got in without a key. I heard them outside the attic…one of them had given up the search—that was Wilkes I believe—but the other performed some spell that told him I was close by. They both came into my room…I panicked, I didn't know where to hide…so I hid in my trunk…" Lily trailed off, suddenly feeling uneasy about continuing the story.
"What is it, Lily?" Dumbledore asked gently, sensing her distress and softening his expression, "We need every detail you have in order to ensure your safety, my dear. Please, won't you continue?"
Lily modestly looked up at the fatherly figure, taking in the benevolent appearance of his engaging face, which was wrinkled with knowledge and an unknown burden. His kindly eyes regarded her with care; she felt like a child being comforted by a worried parent, something she had never experienced before. He wanted to help her, protect her; she couldn't say no to him, fearful of upsetting him or causing him to dislike her. Why do I care what this wizard thinks of me?
"Wilkes opened the trunk, but he did not see me. I…I was invisible. I looked in my mirror once they left, and the reflection was empty. I don't know how I did it…just like I don't know how I saw into Frank's memories." Lily replied quietly, side-glancing Frank, who looked astounded; in the mirror, Kingsley also looked aghast, perhaps even horrified.
"Dumbledore…that's highly advanced magic. How could she possibly…?" Frank was at a lost for words, paralyzed in his chair as he stared at Lily, his pale eyes filled with amazement, "We knew she was special, but…so powerful?"
"Please, Lord Longbottom." Dumbledore's blue gaze was silencing; Frank bashfully stopped talking, controlled his shock, as Dumbledore turned back to Lily, "I had no doubt that you would possess extraordinary magical talent, Lily. You and I shall explore your unique abilities later. If you would please continue with your story first."
Lily tensely side-glanced Frank, who had fixed his clouded orbs on his fidgeting hands, which were settled in his lap; "The next morning I awoke with a plan to escape the school. I packed a bag filled with money and food, but before I left I wanted to get a hold of my student file. I broke into the head nun's office and found it…except it had been changed…"
"I took care of your file early that morning, Lily. Like you, we wanted no trace of your presence at St. Madeline's left behind. Instead of stealing it altogether, I just altered it a bit." the man in the mirror interposed swiftly.
"Oh…right." Lily blinked at the small image of the man, awkwardly clearing her throat as she still found it odd conversing with a mirror, "Well, just as I was about to leave, Sister Agatha and the two men from the night before came into the office. I hid under the desk, and while I was there I heard them asking Agatha if there were any orphaned students at the school. When she mentioned me, the only orphan, they became impatient and demanded to be brought to my room. I thought they'd gone upstairs, so I made a run for the door—except Wilkes had remained downstairs and stopped me escaping. We struggled outside, and he almost knocked me unconscious…but then another wizard came running at us and used magic on him. He told me to run into the street. It was when I turned down an alley that Frank pulled me into a factory and brought me here."
Dumbledore listened intently, and when Lily was finished, swiftly stood up from his chair and began pacing about the room, deep in thought. Just as Frank began to rise from his seat, Dumbledore put up a hand, causing him to feebly sit down again, "We are fortunate we arrived when we did, for our plan almost took a fateful turn. From this point forward we must be extra cautious. One death eater that has seen Lily has been permanently blinded…the question is, did the other see her?"
"I never saw his face clearly." Lily answered, feeling anxious due to Dumbledore's troubled words, "He was up in the attic when Wilkes and I were fighting on the grounds. If he did see me, it was probably only the back of my head as I was running."
"Moody and I were also unable to identify him, Dumbledore. The death eaters apparated once I arrived on the scene to assist Moody. We've spent most of our time since their disappearance obliviating the memories of the muggles that witnessed the skirmish." Kingsley offered after Lily, his expression sober.
Lily turned away from the mirror to look up at Dumbledore; he was tracing his fingers over the length of his knobby wand, his expression slightly aloof; "Kingsley, you and Moody will keep to your previous instructions. I will be taking Lily to Hogwarts immediately; I fear there is no time to dawdle. Though we must deal with some fresh problems, the plan hasn't changed."
Hogwarts? Haven't I heard of that school before…?
"Yes, Lord Dumbledore. Alastor and I will check in at the school tomorrow morning. Until then." Kingsley nodded proficiently, his stare lingering on Lily a moment longer than the others before his reflection in the mirror dissipated.
The landscape outside of the dirty library windows was beginning to darken; the twitter of birds had been hushed, instead replaced with the lingering peace that was associated with dusk, and soon the sound of crickets would sound. Lily thought the majestic forest, which was now blanketed in shadow, seemed much more ominous than before…
Since the disappearance of Kingsley in the mirror, the room had lapsed into silence, Dumbledore pacing about in deep thought, either oblivious or uncaring of Frank and Lily's expecting faces. Lily anxiously side-glanced Frank, hoping for some encouragement, but he seemed as agitated as her, clicking his shoes against one another and staring at the floor.
Lily was sure she was going to scream if she didn't start getting answers, but something inside of her warned her to hold her tongue and observe. I should just reach out and touch him to get answers, for Christ's sake!
Suddenly, with a flippant wave of Dumbledore's hand, flames suddenly burst into life on the wicks of the candles dotted around the room. Dumbledore walked toward one of the bookshelves on the far wall and extracted a curious item: an antique spy-glass. Lily watched Dumbledore examine the pirate-like item in his aged hand before he placed it on the desk before her.
"I must apologize, Lily. Getting you safely to Hogwarts has become a more urgent issue, and we must therefore postpone proper explanations until we arrive." Dumbledore finally said, his mouth moving but his thoughts far away, "Please stand and come around to my side of the desk."
Surprising herself, Lily obediently followed Dumbledore's instructions and rose from her seat, silently coming up beside the old wizard, "Where is Hogwarts? How will we travel there?"
Dumbledore bestowed upon Lily another fatherly smile, though it seemed less warm and more worried, "Hogwarts is in the highlands of Scotland, my dear. As for our mode of travel, we shall be taking a portkey. I expect the house elves will have dinner prepared by the time we arrive."
"Portkey?" Lily blinked, clueless.
"Ah, you have much to learn my dear, but do not fret just now. Frank, I—"
Dumbledore was cut off suddenly when some of the dusty instrumentation on the bookshelves incasing the room began to do a series of odd things: like a children's toy top, the contraptions began to spin, whiz and emit gusts of red smoke, some moving so erratically they crashed to the floor and smashed. Lily watched the display in confused amazement, not noticing Dumbledore and Frank exchange grave looks.
"The sneakoscopes…" Frank murmured, abruptly pulling out his wand and extinguishing all the candles, cloaking the room in black.
Submerged in total darkness, fear instinctually tingled up Lily's spine and made her alert; she could feel Dumbledore beside her, silent and still, and a few meters before her she heard Frank whispering in what sounded like Latin.
"W-W-What's going on?" Lily's voice trembled, her eyes fiercely darting around the darkness, trying to adjust; she could feel Frank suddenly beside her.
"It's alright," Dumbledore said quietly; Lily wished she could see his gentle face and find more comfort, "Listen carefully: I'm going to place your hand on the item before us. In moments, you will feel like you are being squeezed through a small tunnel—it will only last a second."
Before Lily could manage to respond, Dumbledore somehow snatched up her hand and placed it on the looking-glass on his desk. Dumbledore's hand also remained on it; she could feel the brittle bones protruding from beneath the stringy ligaments. Frank's hand was also there, but it wasn't grazing hers.
They remained frozen, Lily dreading the moment she'd feel what Dumbledore had spoken of, but she was momentarily distracted from it when the floorboards in the hall behind the office door creaked under pressure. There are people here…
"How much longer?" Frank whispered to Dumbledore, his voice characterized by the subdued panic, "I can hear them in the hall—the charm on the door won't keep them back for long."
Dumbledore did not respond to Frank; instead, with the cool air of an aristocrat, he softly said, "Here is your chance, von Nettesheim. Please."
Frank clapped his free hand over Lily's mouth when she gasped, for a deep, sinister giggle reverberated around the office in response to Dumbledore, prompting shivers to engulf Lily's body. What the hell was that?
"Only a few more moments…hold on…stay quiet…"
And then, just as most of the day had been, the rest was a blur to Lily.
There was an ear-piercing, blood-curdling scream that filled the house—a ghastly, unnatural noise that sounded like the combination of a fire-alarm and long nails scraping a chalk board. Gruff, scared voices in the hall reacted to it; footsteps suddenly pounded on the floor, and multi-coloured flashes shown through the cracks in the doorframe.
Just as she was sure the intruders were going to burst through the door into the office, the scene shifted; it was like she had been in a portrait, and someone had pulled the plug behind it. All the paint had converged into one colour—was it blue, or green?—and washed down the drain. She was rapidly moving backwards, like a comet in reverse, heading back into space after a crash landing on earth…or maybe she was spinning out of control, swirling about in the eye of a hurricane about to crash against the coast. She didn't know.
It was a dream; was she awake, was it real? She looked around and saw nothing…yet she saw everything. Then she looked down…
The spy-glass was still in her hand…and there were other hands holding onto it as well.
Then it was over.
Earlier that day…
"I'm telling yah, fellas! There ain't no prettier actress than Bette Davis!" Peter Darby insisted vehemently, obnoxiously pounding his fists on one of the wooden tables on the edge of the airfield, where the pilots lunched, "I ain't never seen curves like that on a woman!"
A few pilots had gathered around the tables just outside one of the hangers to eat and play cards on their breaks from training. Some were playing poker with cheap trinkets, while others were swapping stories from home. Peter Darby was in a heated discussion with two other men about Katherine Hepburn when James and Sirius strode by, "Oi! Potter! Black! Come join us!"
Sirius turned to James, who inertly shrugged, and the two ventured over to the table, having nothing better to do. When they took their seats, Sirius leaned into the conversation curiously, while James inclined back and closed his eyes, uninterested.
"Billy 'ere was just saying how Kate Hepburn is the prettiest actress, isn't that a laugh?" Darby snorted passionately; the hyper young man was always bouncing excitably on the balls of his feet, eager for others to become as enthused as he.
"She's classy, that Kate. I like that in a woman." Billy, a shaggy, bright-eyed man added calmly, though he was becoming jaded with the conversation, "I don't find floozies attractive; never know who they've been with."
Darby was about to protest when Sirius cut in pompously, "Trust me, Billy. I have been surrounded by classy women my entire life, so has Jamsie here, and they aren't as wonderful as you imagine. Now floozies on the other hand—"
Just as Sirius was about to begin a rather crude rant about promiscuous women—a topic he could probably teach, with the plethora of knowledge and experience he possessed—a high-pitched alarm, which pierced the eardrums of the pilots and sent deathly chills down their spines, sounded from the hooded speakers around the airfield…
The men froze in their places, their widened eyes slowly scanning the base for any flicker of movement; it was unnaturally still. James thought his heart might've stopped, the shrill bell, which screamed for action, squelching the beating with fevered hands. He looker over at Sirius, who was unsmiling; the lack of movement in his bronzed body and face gave him the appearance of one who had been petrified.
The rest was a blur to James.
The base was suddenly a mass of activity; men were barreling towards their planes, leaders were screaming orders, propellers were sputtering into existence. James didn't know how, but his feet had carried him across the stretch of concrete to his Hawker. Throwing on the rest of his uniform and situating the heavy helmet on his head, he'd momentarily gathered with his squadron leader and team, all of whom had a surreal looks upon their faces. Is this a dream?
"GET TO YOUR PLANES, MEN! SHOOT DOWN ANY ENEMY AIRCRAFT YOU CAN! HEAD THEM OFF BEFORE THEY CAN GET TO LONDON, AND MAY GOD BE WITH YOU!"
He could barely remember what his orders were, but James threw on his heavy equipment and pulled the goggles on his helmet over his head. Pulling himself up into his plane, he quickly began awakening it. Flipping and pressing a series of buttons and toggles, the engine roared to life and, with the help of another pilot, the propeller was thrust into motion. The roar of the Hawker caused adrenaline to suddenly rush through every vein in his body; he tingled with fear and inexplicable excitement.
James looked up from his dashboard at the scene before him: planes were taking off down the landing strip, soaring upwards into the partially clouded sky…there were men directing the take offs, groups gathered together receiving instruction, panicked people running in every direction…
"ALRIGHT POTTER, YOU'RE NEXT! LET'S GO!"
James didn't know who was yelling at him, but he knew he had to go. Just as he was about to drive the plane forward in order to get into position for takeoff, he realized he didn't know where Sirius was.
"OI! JAMES, JAMES BLOODY POTTER!"
James fervently looked around for the source of the voice. An instinctual smile broke out across his face when he saw Sirius behind him, situated in his plane, which was also fired up and ready to go. James didn't think he'd ever forget that image of Sirius: no fancy tuxedo and blonde bombshell on his arm, instead suited up for war—immersed in a place of fear and death—waving at him madly, the family he never had. He's here because I'm here...
"DIDN'T THINK YOU'D BE GOING WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE, DID YOU?" Sirius had to yell over the roar of the surrounding planes; he, like James, looked torn between excitement and horror, "GOOD LUCK, MATE!"
"I'LL SEE YOU UP THERE!" James shouted back, his throat abruptly becoming dry and his Adam's apple sinking into his stomach; as Sirius' plane began to turn another way, dread set in, "OI! IF YOU DIE BLACK, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
The aircraft director was screaming orders at James to move, but as he shifted the plane into gear and began to move into position, the only thing that ringed in his ears was Sirius' barking laughter.
James moved into position. The runway stretched out before him, moisture rising from the hot concrete and distorting the air around him like a mirage. Sweat beaded on his forehead; he could see some of his fellow comrades already in the air, heading down the Thames towards London.
"YOU'RE CLEAR TO GO! TAKE OFF!"
"It's just like flying a broom..." James said aloud to himself, trying to gather his confidence as he pedaled the gas and plunged the plane forward. This is it…
As it gained momentum and speed, James pulled back on the wheel and arched the plane upward. It took only seconds to get the Hawker airborne, and James let out a yelp of satisfaction as he urged it to climb higher and higher into the sky.
It was a surreal experience, flying—yet something he had done so often during his Quidditch days. Hovering just above the cloud-line, the naked sun beating down on his shoulders and reflecting off the glass that incased him, absolute quiet, save the engine bellow…it felt natural. James was in his element 10,000 feet up in the air.
He steered the plane north towards London. In the distance James could see other Spitfires and Hawkers dotting the horizon, perhaps twenty or more, all catching the sunlight and twinkling like mid-day stars. Suspended in such beauty, surrounded by endless freedom, it was hard to fathom he was flying towards some unknown enemy.
Little did James or any of the other pilots know, they'd be outnumbered four to one against Germany's Messerschmitts and Junkers—the planes behind their formidable Luftwaffe.
Author's Notes
It's been a long time coming, I know! I hope you enjoyed this chapter—lots of drama to come I'm afraid! A big twist I'm pumped to begin writing!
Now that I'm nearly bedridden due to a severely broken foot, hopefully I will be able to devote more time to writing!
Honestly, if it wasn't for the staggering amount of reviews the last chapter garnered, I might have given up! So, keep reviewing to motivate me please :)
All you readers and reviewers; you are AWESOME!
-pratty prongs princesse
