Chapter 29- Pictures
She barely noticed herself pass by the stairs, although she felt every time her foot landed with a slam. Heart pounding, mind blurred to unidentifiable thoughts, she paused. Perhaps she had gone to far, the stairs seemed awfully long. Or perhaps her shaken mind was not cooperating with time? She slowed down, forcing herself to rein in her thoughts; make her mind work for her needs.
'Ask the woman at the desk, she'll know.' The woman, that's right, just find her. Sliding her shaking hand on the railing, to mentally tired to make her hand grasp it, she continued.
On the next level, silence, giving way to whispers as nurses and Doctors went in and out of rooms, Lily paused again. She had to fight not to run to one of the Doctors, demanding to know if her son was all right. Don't even mutter the words, Lily; you'll start a panic. She looked around again, judging the normalness of the people. No one even knows; how do you do it Dumbledore? Where did you learn to hide people in plain sight so well?
A single bored witch occupied the desk, placed to the left of the door. She was flipping through a magazine, The Quibbler, and did not notice Lily until she was standing right in front of the desk. "What can I do for you?" She asked, although her eyes never left the paper.
"Albus Dumbledore asked me to come here, I'm looking for his room." The girl looked up then, and then back down at the paper; Lily tried to see what was on it, but could not. Then the paper shifted, and she could see a picture of James and herself on it, the yearly article of Harry still missing plastered on the headline.
If it had been any other magazine she would have wondered who leaked the photograph, but Luna had asked the first year if her fathers magazine could publish an article, to make the emergency of his missing, evident. Many people had replied about information, but nothing had led them to anything. Nevertheless, Lily and James let them publish a yearly anniversary, just in case.
"Lily Potter?" She asked, blinking and glancing down at her paper again. When she looked up, checking the woman in front of her again, Lily was nodding impatiently, lips pursed in annoyance. "Yes, my name is Lily Potter, that clarified, could you please tell me the door number?" The girl nodded, to stupid to care that she had been insulted.
"Sure, number nine." Should have just walked past you then. With the thought, Lily walked perhaps a tad bit fasted past the desk and into the room then she normally would have.
The hall was much narrower then the outside one was, but the furnishing was much more business-like; it was rich, dark wood that adorned the walls instead of the white washed ones, and the lamps hanging over them made it impossible to mistake, or nor see clearly, the numbers. She walked down them, slowly; listen for her sons' voice.
She paused at seven; knowing it was not her number but wanting to hear James talk to Harry. When she walked through the door, he would back away, and be laughing and unserious; it was just his way. 'There can only be one serious person in a room at once, it gets to crowded after that' he often told her, when she asked about his changes. 'And you act the roll so well.' He would add, smiling sheepishly at her. Perhaps I do; will Harry hate that?
She could almost hear her husband murmuring by her eat: 'don't be crazy, he always sided with you when he was little; he'll still side with you.' And she knew exactly what her replay would have been. He was one, James, and I fed him, changed his diaper, and put him to bed. Not to mention when you tried to tuck him in he cried from your lullaby. He was a baby; he'll be older now.
Lily wanted James to answer back to that one, to reassure her until she was positive she could walk into that room without crying. But he did not answer that one for her, so she took the next step to reach number nine. So what if she cried, James would have balled his eyes out already.
The knob was a worn gold color; she put her hand on it.
DUMBLEDORE...
"And the figures emerged, one by one, the old fighters returned; to help the boy who would end the war. Perhaps, you can imagine, loosing a classmate, having your blood used to raised the man who killed your parents and then dueling when you are not even sure how to do so, with a man who has killed, and tortured many before you. At that age, I must admit, I would be calling for my parents, begging them to help me; but Harry Potter did not. That instinct must have worn out many years ago...
Harry did call their names that night though, and they did help him...they rose out of Voldemort's wand. Harry could see his father, James, come out of the wand, his hair as messy as Harry's; his glasses as the same size and fit. He could see his mother, her red hair, and the same green eyes as he had, and..."
Dumbledore paused, out of the corner of his eye he could see the knob of the door turn slightly; was it Mr. Weasley? The knob turned fully; the McClain were already turned towards it. "Albus?"
It was not the voice of Ronald, but Dumbledore did know to whom it belonged. He heaved an inward sigh; there was no telling her to go away. "Come in Lily." She pushed open the door, and wrinkled her brow at the absence of her husband, and perhaps, her son.
"Hello, Lily," She turned to him, then and smiled.
"Hello Albus...were is Harry?" His face did not pale, his brow did not wrinkled, he did not wring his hands or look out into space; he merely smiled again. If he was nervous Lily did know where to spot the quirks that usually follow the emotion.
"Harry?' She nodded, and she could not help but wrinkled her brow.
"Are you Lily Potter?" She turned, ready to give the person the same cold glare she had given the young nurse, but the face was not the shocked and eager one that was always spread across their faces, it was interested, thoughtful. She nodded.
"He was telling us about a boy named Harry, Harry Potter; is he your son?" She nodded again, turning a questioning gaze onto Dumbledore.
"Mr. McClain, you seemed to see into a few of my hints; do you think you have solved my puzzle?" Lily looked at him again, and then turned to Ryan.
"What your implying is impossible." He said bluntly, staring evenly at the old man. "They cannot be the same person, not matter how much you imply they look the same." One silver-white eyebrow was the only reply Ryan received for several moments.
"Magic, Mr. McClain, makes almost anything possible..."
DEVLIN, JAMES, SIRIUS....
"A snake bite?" James questioned, voice hitching in concern; Devlin nodded. "Does it hurt?" He asked again, tracing the bandaging. Devlin shook his head. The child laughed inwardly, his both his fathers worried too much.
"Your sure?" Devlin blinked at him, mouth still solidly closed, and nodded again, more firmly. "Did they give you any potions?"
"Yes, a pain reducer." He turned to the door in distraction, eyes glued to the knob.
"What's wrong?" Devlin did not turn to him, his eyes stayed on the door, half fearful.
"Nothing..." James turned the child's head so that it faced him, and looked into his eyes.
"Your worried about something." He said, "Your eyes are like Lily's. What's wrong, you can tell me?" Why do people say that, Devlin wondered, it doesn't make a difference in the long run. It won't change my mind.
Nevertheless, it was more then one thing that was wrong. He could hear the hissing from right outside the hallway, could feel the black eyes staring through the wooden door, and he did not want to meet a second one. He wanted, more then anytime in his eight year as Devlin, to go and find his mother, to call out her name like his sister always does when she is hurt or worried. He almost let the name escape his lip, he almost did call for her, but he knew the only mother these people would get for him was Lily, and right then he wanted Elizabeth.
Then there was Ron; what would he think of his friend now? Will he recognize me? Will he feel like he must treat me as a child? The knob turned, slowly...and Ronald and an older man entered; he could hear the coils moving under that dark fabric. He clamped his jaw shut, resisting the urge to answer.
DUMBLEDORE....
"What is impossible?" The man regarded her for a long moment, trying to gather her ideas, feelings, emotions, and attitude in one swipe. She watched him just as scrutinizing, green eyes gathering the same buried things that Devlin's have the talent for.
"It is impossible, that your son, Harry Potter, could be my son, Devlin." Lily blinked at him, but she did not bother to turn back to Dumbledore.
"Your son?" He nodded, while she shook her head. "No...where would you get such an idea?"
He pulled out his wallet, and handed her a picture of a young boy, green eyes staring endlessly into the camera that had caught captured them. "That, and the scar they both seem to share."She traced the image with her thumb, the women was staring at her strangely. She stood awkwardly, pulling Lily's attention back to them.
Quietly she handed the picture back to the man. "I always wondered what he looked like; we could never find any pictures of him."
Elizabeth tilted her head, eyes showing a dawning understanding. "Mrs. Potter, I have plenty of pictures, and I do not mind you looking at them. If...if" She closed her eyes here, fighting to finish. "I've never seen a snake in my life, not in my backyard. I have a feeling, knowing Devlin, that he planned this. Tonight, he kept shooing Deirdre away, he yelled at her; he never does that. I-I don't know how, how he could be this boy, but...with Devlin I'll believe almost anything. He wanted to be here...perhaps to see you?"
DEVLIN...
Godric turned a scowl to the cage, Ron's face was green, though he was avoiding eye contact with the cage and James and Sirius's gazes were more of curiosity. Devlin stared at it with full-fledged fear, and an unusual calmness to be associated with such fear.
The man leaned over, the cage coming to hang right in front of Devlin's face, and he asked gruffly, "You the boy who got bit?"
Devlin nodded, refusing to flinch away from the lantern-carried cage. "Yes, sir. Devlin M-"He hesitated for a moment, then stood even straighter, meeting the mans gaze solidly. "Devlin McClain."
"You know what's under this cage?" Devlin did move to answer. "It's the only one of its kind in Ireland, I keep track of them. I study the monsters, and their relatives, and the thing that bit you had to be planted by someone. Tell me who got it there, and where it is now." Again, Devlin did not move. The man thrust the cage closer to his face. "It can bite other people, you little brat. It can kill them-"Devlin shook his head.
"No, it can't. It's paralyzed right now...perhaps, at the most, a mile away. I worked the heating and invisibility spell to give way to a paralyzing in approximately a mile. Now, I'm only eight, so it could be a mile and ten feet..."
The man blinked, but recovered quickly. "You think you can control it, do you? I'll let this one out then, see if you'd like to get bitten again."
"You will not!" James cut in, glaring at the man. "I'm his father, I forbid you to." The man made to yell back an insult, but the small boys voice stopped him, as he reached to move the fabric away from the cage.
"She doesn't like you, your loud and mean...you hurt her..." The man froze, staring down at the boy. "She's always in a cage...always blind of light. Your afraid of her, and to stop the fear you hide her, lock her...blind her...she's never seen the moonlight, does not know her own name..." The man pulled the cage away from the boy, still frozen with shock. "Let her out...I won't let her hurt you...she's very lonely..."
"Are you simple, boy? This kind of animal bit you, nearly killed you! What in the world are you trying to pull?
She barely noticed herself pass by the stairs, although she felt every time her foot landed with a slam. Heart pounding, mind blurred to unidentifiable thoughts, she paused. Perhaps she had gone to far, the stairs seemed awfully long. Or perhaps her shaken mind was not cooperating with time? She slowed down, forcing herself to rein in her thoughts; make her mind work for her needs.
'Ask the woman at the desk, she'll know.' The woman, that's right, just find her. Sliding her shaking hand on the railing, to mentally tired to make her hand grasp it, she continued.
On the next level, silence, giving way to whispers as nurses and Doctors went in and out of rooms, Lily paused again. She had to fight not to run to one of the Doctors, demanding to know if her son was all right. Don't even mutter the words, Lily; you'll start a panic. She looked around again, judging the normalness of the people. No one even knows; how do you do it Dumbledore? Where did you learn to hide people in plain sight so well?
A single bored witch occupied the desk, placed to the left of the door. She was flipping through a magazine, The Quibbler, and did not notice Lily until she was standing right in front of the desk. "What can I do for you?" She asked, although her eyes never left the paper.
"Albus Dumbledore asked me to come here, I'm looking for his room." The girl looked up then, and then back down at the paper; Lily tried to see what was on it, but could not. Then the paper shifted, and she could see a picture of James and herself on it, the yearly article of Harry still missing plastered on the headline.
If it had been any other magazine she would have wondered who leaked the photograph, but Luna had asked the first year if her fathers magazine could publish an article, to make the emergency of his missing, evident. Many people had replied about information, but nothing had led them to anything. Nevertheless, Lily and James let them publish a yearly anniversary, just in case.
"Lily Potter?" She asked, blinking and glancing down at her paper again. When she looked up, checking the woman in front of her again, Lily was nodding impatiently, lips pursed in annoyance. "Yes, my name is Lily Potter, that clarified, could you please tell me the door number?" The girl nodded, to stupid to care that she had been insulted.
"Sure, number nine." Should have just walked past you then. With the thought, Lily walked perhaps a tad bit fasted past the desk and into the room then she normally would have.
The hall was much narrower then the outside one was, but the furnishing was much more business-like; it was rich, dark wood that adorned the walls instead of the white washed ones, and the lamps hanging over them made it impossible to mistake, or nor see clearly, the numbers. She walked down them, slowly; listen for her sons' voice.
She paused at seven; knowing it was not her number but wanting to hear James talk to Harry. When she walked through the door, he would back away, and be laughing and unserious; it was just his way. 'There can only be one serious person in a room at once, it gets to crowded after that' he often told her, when she asked about his changes. 'And you act the roll so well.' He would add, smiling sheepishly at her. Perhaps I do; will Harry hate that?
She could almost hear her husband murmuring by her eat: 'don't be crazy, he always sided with you when he was little; he'll still side with you.' And she knew exactly what her replay would have been. He was one, James, and I fed him, changed his diaper, and put him to bed. Not to mention when you tried to tuck him in he cried from your lullaby. He was a baby; he'll be older now.
Lily wanted James to answer back to that one, to reassure her until she was positive she could walk into that room without crying. But he did not answer that one for her, so she took the next step to reach number nine. So what if she cried, James would have balled his eyes out already.
The knob was a worn gold color; she put her hand on it.
DUMBLEDORE...
"And the figures emerged, one by one, the old fighters returned; to help the boy who would end the war. Perhaps, you can imagine, loosing a classmate, having your blood used to raised the man who killed your parents and then dueling when you are not even sure how to do so, with a man who has killed, and tortured many before you. At that age, I must admit, I would be calling for my parents, begging them to help me; but Harry Potter did not. That instinct must have worn out many years ago...
Harry did call their names that night though, and they did help him...they rose out of Voldemort's wand. Harry could see his father, James, come out of the wand, his hair as messy as Harry's; his glasses as the same size and fit. He could see his mother, her red hair, and the same green eyes as he had, and..."
Dumbledore paused, out of the corner of his eye he could see the knob of the door turn slightly; was it Mr. Weasley? The knob turned fully; the McClain were already turned towards it. "Albus?"
It was not the voice of Ronald, but Dumbledore did know to whom it belonged. He heaved an inward sigh; there was no telling her to go away. "Come in Lily." She pushed open the door, and wrinkled her brow at the absence of her husband, and perhaps, her son.
"Hello, Lily," She turned to him, then and smiled.
"Hello Albus...were is Harry?" His face did not pale, his brow did not wrinkled, he did not wring his hands or look out into space; he merely smiled again. If he was nervous Lily did know where to spot the quirks that usually follow the emotion.
"Harry?' She nodded, and she could not help but wrinkled her brow.
"Are you Lily Potter?" She turned, ready to give the person the same cold glare she had given the young nurse, but the face was not the shocked and eager one that was always spread across their faces, it was interested, thoughtful. She nodded.
"He was telling us about a boy named Harry, Harry Potter; is he your son?" She nodded again, turning a questioning gaze onto Dumbledore.
"Mr. McClain, you seemed to see into a few of my hints; do you think you have solved my puzzle?" Lily looked at him again, and then turned to Ryan.
"What your implying is impossible." He said bluntly, staring evenly at the old man. "They cannot be the same person, not matter how much you imply they look the same." One silver-white eyebrow was the only reply Ryan received for several moments.
"Magic, Mr. McClain, makes almost anything possible..."
DEVLIN, JAMES, SIRIUS....
"A snake bite?" James questioned, voice hitching in concern; Devlin nodded. "Does it hurt?" He asked again, tracing the bandaging. Devlin shook his head. The child laughed inwardly, his both his fathers worried too much.
"Your sure?" Devlin blinked at him, mouth still solidly closed, and nodded again, more firmly. "Did they give you any potions?"
"Yes, a pain reducer." He turned to the door in distraction, eyes glued to the knob.
"What's wrong?" Devlin did not turn to him, his eyes stayed on the door, half fearful.
"Nothing..." James turned the child's head so that it faced him, and looked into his eyes.
"Your worried about something." He said, "Your eyes are like Lily's. What's wrong, you can tell me?" Why do people say that, Devlin wondered, it doesn't make a difference in the long run. It won't change my mind.
Nevertheless, it was more then one thing that was wrong. He could hear the hissing from right outside the hallway, could feel the black eyes staring through the wooden door, and he did not want to meet a second one. He wanted, more then anytime in his eight year as Devlin, to go and find his mother, to call out her name like his sister always does when she is hurt or worried. He almost let the name escape his lip, he almost did call for her, but he knew the only mother these people would get for him was Lily, and right then he wanted Elizabeth.
Then there was Ron; what would he think of his friend now? Will he recognize me? Will he feel like he must treat me as a child? The knob turned, slowly...and Ronald and an older man entered; he could hear the coils moving under that dark fabric. He clamped his jaw shut, resisting the urge to answer.
DUMBLEDORE....
"What is impossible?" The man regarded her for a long moment, trying to gather her ideas, feelings, emotions, and attitude in one swipe. She watched him just as scrutinizing, green eyes gathering the same buried things that Devlin's have the talent for.
"It is impossible, that your son, Harry Potter, could be my son, Devlin." Lily blinked at him, but she did not bother to turn back to Dumbledore.
"Your son?" He nodded, while she shook her head. "No...where would you get such an idea?"
He pulled out his wallet, and handed her a picture of a young boy, green eyes staring endlessly into the camera that had caught captured them. "That, and the scar they both seem to share."She traced the image with her thumb, the women was staring at her strangely. She stood awkwardly, pulling Lily's attention back to them.
Quietly she handed the picture back to the man. "I always wondered what he looked like; we could never find any pictures of him."
Elizabeth tilted her head, eyes showing a dawning understanding. "Mrs. Potter, I have plenty of pictures, and I do not mind you looking at them. If...if" She closed her eyes here, fighting to finish. "I've never seen a snake in my life, not in my backyard. I have a feeling, knowing Devlin, that he planned this. Tonight, he kept shooing Deirdre away, he yelled at her; he never does that. I-I don't know how, how he could be this boy, but...with Devlin I'll believe almost anything. He wanted to be here...perhaps to see you?"
DEVLIN...
Godric turned a scowl to the cage, Ron's face was green, though he was avoiding eye contact with the cage and James and Sirius's gazes were more of curiosity. Devlin stared at it with full-fledged fear, and an unusual calmness to be associated with such fear.
The man leaned over, the cage coming to hang right in front of Devlin's face, and he asked gruffly, "You the boy who got bit?"
Devlin nodded, refusing to flinch away from the lantern-carried cage. "Yes, sir. Devlin M-"He hesitated for a moment, then stood even straighter, meeting the mans gaze solidly. "Devlin McClain."
"You know what's under this cage?" Devlin did move to answer. "It's the only one of its kind in Ireland, I keep track of them. I study the monsters, and their relatives, and the thing that bit you had to be planted by someone. Tell me who got it there, and where it is now." Again, Devlin did not move. The man thrust the cage closer to his face. "It can bite other people, you little brat. It can kill them-"Devlin shook his head.
"No, it can't. It's paralyzed right now...perhaps, at the most, a mile away. I worked the heating and invisibility spell to give way to a paralyzing in approximately a mile. Now, I'm only eight, so it could be a mile and ten feet..."
The man blinked, but recovered quickly. "You think you can control it, do you? I'll let this one out then, see if you'd like to get bitten again."
"You will not!" James cut in, glaring at the man. "I'm his father, I forbid you to." The man made to yell back an insult, but the small boys voice stopped him, as he reached to move the fabric away from the cage.
"She doesn't like you, your loud and mean...you hurt her..." The man froze, staring down at the boy. "She's always in a cage...always blind of light. Your afraid of her, and to stop the fear you hide her, lock her...blind her...she's never seen the moonlight, does not know her own name..." The man pulled the cage away from the boy, still frozen with shock. "Let her out...I won't let her hurt you...she's very lonely..."
"Are you simple, boy? This kind of animal bit you, nearly killed you! What in the world are you trying to pull?
