VOLDEMORT'S LAST SPELL, by Louis IX
Disclaimer: Check first chapter for full disclaimer and other warnings – I don't own anything relative to Harry Potter or X-Men.
Chapter 9 – Coming Clean
posted February 25th, 2008
"It is time."
Harry opened his eyes groggily, before focusing on the Elf maiden in front of him.
"It is time." she repeated.
Time for what, again?
His memories came back with a rush. "Young Harry has disappeared, then?"
"Not yet, but the seers Saw that the cone of absolute past of that particular event doesn't cross your cone of absolute future from now on, and you can proceed to whatever you have envisioned."
Harry was a little stunned by the obscure vocabulary, but he respected the Elven seers despite their language. He took his cloak and staff, and his list of addresses. Before leaving, he threw a last glance at the Divination apprentice who had just woken him. "Any suggestion for my destination?" he asked her.
"The hollow is full." she replied dreamily.
Harry thanked her and opened the drapes to exit the room.
"Stop!" she exclaimed suddenly. "You'll need this."
Harry looked as she was bringing a finger to her temple. Understanding what was going on, he let the drapes fall and approached her so that she could put the memory in his head. Once done, he smiled. "Thank you."
Once outside, he scanned the list to check her cryptic sentence about his destination, and, sure enough, among the places registered to the Potter family was a house named as Godric's Hollow. He transported himself near the house and entered it without pause, not noticing the rat eyeing the house from the other side of the road.
He could hear some dialogue upstairs and feel the anti-transport wards on the house. He paused for a few seconds, just enough to make sure that James was alive despite its corpse-like appearance.
He then climbed the stairs just as two green lights came from one of the bedrooms. Time to make a grand entrance. He walked into the room and saw Voldemort – whom he now knew as Tom Marvolo Riddle thanks to a few discussions with Dumbledore – looking at Lily pensively.
He sighed – time to face the music. "So, that is what Tom Riddle has become?"
The Dark Lord whirled around, seething at the use of his muggle name. He noticed him, and Harry only now thought about his own appearance. He hadn't thought about it before, but the stasis spell he had used maximized its efficiency by reducing the corporal mass it had to keep. Being a master at self-transfiguration, Harry hadn't taken care of using additional spells to rehabilitate him afterwards, and he now looked like a little old man leaning on a gnarled staff. His cloak was a little too large, too, and it covered most of his bent figure,
Voldemort aimed his wand at him and addressed him. "I am Lord Voldemort!"
Harry knew French. "Voldemort... Vol de mort..." he said thoughtfully. "Doesn't that mean Flight of Death in French? Or rather Theft of Death, in fact. Thievery is much older than flight in human civilization." He almost smirked at his memories about building a civilization, but looked at the self-proclaimed Lord instead. "Did you steal something from Lady Death, Tom?"
"For the last time," Voldemort started, yelling, "I am Lord V-"
"Voldemort, I know. A pitiful anagram if I ever saw one. Especially as it is a complete sentence, meaning that you have to say "I am" twice if you want to introduce yourself. As I said, Pitiful."
The Dark Lord seemed on the verge of cursing him, but he reined himself quickly. "Who are you?"
"Who am I? That's a very good question. Can't you answer it by yourself?" Harry asked. Applying his gift of self-transfiguration, he shot to his normal height and weight, and let his hood fall back, revealing his face.
Voldemort gasped. "YOU!"
Harry tilted his head, and smirked. "Me, indeed."
"You've crossed my path one time too many."
"Make that two. I don't intend on letting you win this one either." Harry said, before walking forward implacably.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort exclaimed.
Nothing happened, and both wizards stopped moving, looking at Voldemort's wand in wonder. Understanding came quickly to Harry, though. 'The little vixen!' he thought, thinking of the effect of the Runes her mother had drawn on the three Potters. 'She really outdid herself on that power-leeching runic array. Hmm... perhaps that's why I went so far in the past?' He shrugged his mental question aside for the moment, and, aloud, he addressed the suddenly powerless Dark Lord. "What now, Tom?"
That stopped the man's thoughts about a Pepper-Up potion gone bad – and the ensuing punishment for Snape. "Stop using that name! Avada Kedavra!"
Nothing happened on this try either, and Harry couldn't resist the urge of mocking Voldemort. "Well, Tom, I think you have cast your last spell already. No sparks for more. Need a new battery for your old wand?"
"Aargh! Crucio! Concussio! Reducto! Avada Kedavra!" Except the first word of the tirade, the others were perfectly executed spells... without result.
"I think it's time you pay for your rent in Hell, Tom." Harry commented, raising his staff. "Any last word?"
The Dark Lord was at a loss for words... and actions. He concentrated and tried to Apparate out, without result. Trying to activate his two emergency portkeys didn't yield any result either. And the man was blocking the only way out – the only other exit was a skylight too high to jump through efficiently. "You can't do this to me!" he yelled. "I'm Lord Voldemort!"
"You know, Tom, that was old the first time I heard it. Get ready, now. It might hurt a lil' bit. Anima Extracto!"
With an unearthly cry, Voldemort's soul was extracted from his body, in the form of a black cloud. Once in the air, it seemed to wait for something. Six other clouds came through the walls and joined the Dark Lord's.
"Seven parts?" Harry asked aloud, while keeping his concentration on the spell locking the soul in place. "That's more than I thought. Well... the more, the merrier. Anima Consumo!"
The seven parts of Voldemort's soul, reunited as one, shrieked again when a crimson flame started licking the bottommost part of it. It quickly travelled through it, however, leaving nothing in its wake as the soul was sent straight to Hell.
The only reason soul spells weren't restricted by the Ministry was because they didn't know about them. And even if they did, the godly power requirement meant that few people could use them, even if they were using a staff like Harry's.
As it was, the only thing remaining from Voldemort was a rapidly decaying body. A mere minute afterwards, there was only ash in an empty robe – and the usual inner garments we won't talk about.
Harry looked around and spotted his mother. Like James, she had been struck by the Killing Curse. And, like him, her runes had activated and prevented the soul from leaving the body, only giving the appearance of death – and it was thankful that he was able to see through the deception, because others might have thought the couple dead and bury them.
He was at a loss, now. What to do? Now that he had his biological parents with him, he wanted to experience growing up again – like he had done several times during his long life: seeing things from the eyes of a growing kid can give anyone a fresh point of view on the life of his peers. This time, however, they would be his true parents... the experience would be different.
He would just have to hide his numerous abilities. And his staff.
With a focused teleportation spell, said staff disappeared, transported in the same hideout in which he had hidden his Cup. His body and cloak were next, reducing until he was the proper size to climb his baby cot, and reducing some more afterwards. Using the memory given to him by the Elf maiden who had awoken him, less than a hour ago, he morphed to adapt to the current appearance of Harry Potter, and wandlessly transfigured his cloak into his baby garment, diaper included.
His last action before hiding behind the wooden panel of his crib was to send a bolt of energy to awaken his mother.
As he was hiding in the crib, and while his mother was awakening, a lumpy rat entered the room. It squeaked once upon seeing the state the room was in, before transforming into the rat Animagus known as Peter Pettigrew.
"Peter!" Lily exclaimed as soon as she opened her eyes. "It worked!"
"Er... great! What worked, exactly?" the slippery friend asked in his unsure manner.
"My plan to save us... wait a second... where's Harry?"
She rushed to the crib, only to find baby Harry appearing to sleep peacefully. She stroked his cheek tenderly, before pushing Peter out with a finger on her lips. When passing next to Voldemort's empty robe, she took her wand out and was ready to Vanish them when another idea crept into her red-haired head. She Summoned a plastic box from her kitchen, magically enlarged it, and levitated the garment inside. Only then did she leave the room with Peter and the Tupperware in tow.
"What happened?" the rat-like man was asking incessantly. "What happened?"
Thinking that he spoke about her revival, she smiled. "The Ancient Runes teacher gave me some ideas to protect oneself against You-Know-Who's curses. Apparently, it worked just fine. And you finished him for us! You'll be hailed as a hero, tomorrow, Peter. You'll see."
But Peter didn't want that. Since he had betrayed the Potters by agreeing to Lord Voldemort's demands, he had been tagged as Death Eater by... the other Death Eaters. And, learning that their master had been defeated by him would certainly push them into a personal crusade against him. "I don't want this." he said. "I didn't want any of this! I arrived, and he was..."
"It's all right, really." she replied. "I understand."
"You understand?" he asked, half afraid that she had actually understood his reasons behind his refusal.
"Yes. You've always been humble, Peter. I understand that you don't want the limelight. I won't say a thing. Sit here, please." she said as she was levitating the couch in its place. "I'll wake my lazy husband up."
James, lying on his back, didn't see Peter as the small man was already sitting. He only saw his wife with a radiant smile on her face. A smile that could mean only one thing. "It worked?" he asked weakly.
"Yes!" she nodded enthusiastically. "It's as the Professor told me. I have perhaps overdone it a bit, but it worked."
"Overdone? What do you mean?"
She bit her lower lip, and James had to restrain himself not to kiss it – the sight had driven him insane during his whole seventh year. "I might have added several fail-safe scenarios. And there are several sets of Runes I didn't know about, which I copied without checking... but there were no references about them! Can you believe that? I checked in all the books from Hogwarts' library, even in the Restricted Section!" She paused for a second. "I thought I had failed when he cast the Killing Curse... it really left us unconscious, you know? But Peter appeared, and he saved the day."
"Good, good... wait a second, here..." he frowned. His wife's excited chatter was difficult to follow, sometimes. "What does Peter have to do in here?"
"The runes only protected the three of us, I think. Nothing could have prevented You-Know-Who from putting fire to the house as he left. But Peter entered and destroyed him. There was no trace save for His robes." she finished, pointing at the plastic box nearby.
"Where's Peter?" James asked, standing up. That's when he noticed the Secret Keeper he and Sirius had agreed upon – without even telling Lily. "Peter?" he asked dangerously.
"It's as she said." the mousy man said, while trying to make himself smaller – without effectively turning into a rat. "Really, James, it was like that. The Dark Lord was looking away, and I hit him with... with a Reducto! That's how he died!"
"Reducto makes things explode." James stated, looking at the empty clothes before watching at his dubious friend suspiciously. "Are you sure that it was a Reducto you used?"
"Er... that is..."
"Seriously, James!" Lily intervened. "You know, as well as I do, that magic reacts strangely when emotions are involved. Peter's Reducto might have made him burn from the inside out."
"Emotions, my ass..." James muttered. "Fear, yes, I could-"
"Stop right there, James Potter." Lily ordered. "He killed Him, and he's modest enough not to take glory from it. What do you want more?"
At that precise moment, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the doorway. Upon noticing the three friends arguing, his usually genial expression turned into one of confusion and he stopped moving.
A deep voice, easily recognizable as Hagrid's, came from behind him. "What is it, Professor Dumbledore?"
"Guard the door, Hagrid." Dumbledore said without turning. "We never know when Voldemort might attack."
"Oh, he did attack us." James commented.
"But he was defeated." Lily added, looking at Peter with a smile.
Dumbledore's eyebrows shot upwards at this revelation. He turned to his groundskeeper. "Guard the door anyway. There are other threats who mustn't get in." He then turned towards the three friends. "Now... what happened? James?"
Lily sighed discreetly. Trust Dumbledore to ask James first!
James looked at his hands. "Voldemort came. We fought. He killed me."
At Dumbledore's sudden intake of breath, Lily decided to speak up. "Professor Harold gave us many pointers about the usage of Runes in protection schemes. It appears that a particular set of runes prevent the killing curse from removing the soul from one's body."
"Soul magic?" Dumbledore asked, properly shocked. "You performed soul magic? You?"
"No." she replied staunchly. "I drew Runes. And it worked and kept us alive. Don't tell me we're going to Azkaban for this, as your tone suggests!"
"Well... the Ministry is wary of anyone performing magic on blood or soul..."
"Or with anything that can't be traced." James added. "I know this. I'm in the Auror program. If they could ban Potions, they would."
"They already ban several new potions each year." Lily commented off-handedly, and James winced, remembering one of their couples' apples of discord: Lily's talent in potions and the one man who had helped her achieve it... Severus Snape.
Dumbledore wasn't speaking. He was looking at Peter intently. Peter, who quivered each time James spoke up, and who calmed each time Lily said something. His wandless Legilimency, mastered by decades of use, came forward almost naturally, and he started to inspect the man's recent memories. What he found was disturbing. And it wasn't Peter's betrayal of the Potters to Voldemort – that had been a part of a larger master plan.
Dumbledore was a great chess player, but who often found the rules of chess too restrictive. Instead, he loved playing political games, and his current war with Voldemort had stroked his ego endlessly. Instead of what had happened in his last war with Grindelwald, he had the upper hand most of the time. He had then done like many players: he had started enjoying the game more than its outcome. The pleasure of seeing a perfectly timed manoeuvre bear fruit was like honey for a bear. Or lemon drops for a crazy Headmaster. He had almost forgotten that the lives he played with weren't his to endanger.
When he saw Peter's memories, he discovered that the game now included a third player. Apparently, while Peter was watching over the house, an old man had entered, clad in a grey mantle and holding a staff. That man hadn't been seen again, and everything that remained from Voldemort was an empty set of robes. And the Potters were alive, all of them! His carefully elaborated plan to win the game while continuing to play it in secret had crashed down in flames. And to think that he had carefully selected the family that would be hosting Harry Potter after the events dictated by the Prophecy. A perfect family of normal muggles. What best environment to raise a wizard hero?
That plan was off the window, and Dumbledore needed another. And, first, he needed to find himself an opponent. He had to make sure that Tom Riddle was dead and not strolling naked in the middle of the night. And, if that Dark Lord was thoroughly dead, he could create himself another. Malfoy, for instance, could be the perfect little Dark Lord... yes... that would do. Just as long as he didn't outrank him in power.
Speaking of which... Dumbledore only knew of one man using a staff to do magic. And it was the second incidence of that man with the scene of the crime.
"Does any of you know where Professor Harold is?" he asked, shocking the others by his apparent change of subject. When no one answered him, he extracted his wand and tried several location spell, but all of them told the same thing: said Professor wasn't on this Earth. Dumbledore needed to think.
Barely saluting the three friends, he took his leave and returned to Hogwarts with a surprised Hagrid in tow.
Dumbledore loved plans inside plans and schemes inside schemes, but, in his hurry of finding himself another little friend to play, he had forgotten one thing – or perhaps it was the habit of seeing all his plans succeed. When a plan fails, if you don't want to be caught by its failure, you should remove all your fingerprints from it.
As it was, several articles had been posted to the Daily Prophet's next edition. Severus Snape had been planted as a spy into the Dark Lord's ranks. Sirius had been announced as the Potter's Secret Keeper and betrayer, while the man was arriving at Godric's Hollow right after Dumbledore had left, closely followed by Remus.
The five friends spent parts of the night discussing. Since Sirius was there, Peter came clean about his role as Secret Keeper and his betrayal, for which he apologized, placing due blame on his fear of the seemingly all-powerful Dark Lord. As he was leaving, he also told them the truth about his role in Voldemort's actual demise, as well as the fact that an old man had entered the house earlier. Needless to say, he wasn't their friend any more after this. But, at least, they didn't come after him like the plague.
Remus came clean about his lycanthropy too – or lack thereof. It surprised Lily that Dumbledore could have allowed a werewolf in the school, and it surprised the others that it had taken so long for him to tell them that he wasn't one any more. He explained about his vow to Professor Harold, and they left it at that.
The morning sun found Lily sleeping in her bed, Harry in his crib, Sirius on the couch... and James and Remus sipping coffee on the kitchen counter. And an owl holding a wizarding newspaper knocking at the window.
After paying and taking the Prophet, James sat back and brought his cup to his mouth. But he didn't drink. Instead, he dropped the cup in surprise. "How dare they!" he exclaimed.
"What?" Remus asked.
"They tell everything... as if it had been planned. Our death, Harry being a hero... Sirius convicted..."
"Hmrf!" came from the couch.
"It seems that someone saw it that way." Remus said in his usual calm and collected manner. "Now, the questions are the usual: who, and why, for starters. And how."
"Who? No idea. Why? Same. How?" James paused, scratching his chin. "Perhaps a Seer made a false prophecy."
"...or not." Remus said, his eyes dangerously close to the amber tinge they usually got when he was in his werewolf form.
"What do you mean?"
"Imagine, James. Someone hears a prophecy, and decides to place a bet on it."
"Only to find that it was void after the fact."
"But without clearing the necessary tracks."
"What tracks?"
"The Prophet, for one."
"They never tell who their sources are."
"Because we don't own it." Remus said, knowing that James would make the connection.
And it worked. "Yet." James said dangerously, before standing up brusquely. "I'm off to Gringotts." he said before Apparating out.
Remus smiled and, after cleaning James' broken cup and spilled tea, counted backwards from ten. James reappeared at three, looking sheepish. "How was it?" Remus asked while reading the few parts of the Prophet that were unrelated to tonight's non-event.
"Closed." was the laconic reply.
"Good. When I said "for one" about the Prophet, I had something else in mind."
"What is it?"
"It's a secret for the moment, but I've received work invitations from the Department of Mysteries. With my lycanthropy not hindering the recruitment process, I have been accepted, and I'll work with them soon. Perhaps with the Unspeakables."
"You know that, as soon as you are one, you can't speak about it any more?"
"Yes. That's why I'm talking to you right now." Remus answered with a smile, before turning serious. "There's a hall, in the Department, with all the known Prophecies made to or about wizards or witches."
"You mean..."
"If the prophecy is registered, we can perhaps see who it had been made to, and track the leak from there."
A pause. "You want to flip for it? Gringotts or the Mysteries?" James asked.
Remus snorted. "As if I could enter Gringotts and tell them that you buy the Prophet out. You need to be there in person."
"But I so wanted to see the Department of Mysteries." James pouted.
"You work in the Ministry every day. Do you really need an excuse to go there?"
"Hmm... no."
"Good answer."
"You know," James smirked, "that was what Lily said when-"
"Stop right there! I don't want too much information about your love life, thank you."
A third voice made itself known. "Whose love life?" Sirius asked from the couch.
"That's Sirius for you." James said playfully. "Sleeps like a log, but certain keywords can awaken him in an instant."
James and Remus laughed at their friend's pouting expression.
The next day saw two drastic changes in the wizarding world scenery.
Firstly, the Daily Prophet was bought, the deal making only a dent in the Potter Family fortune – albeit a sizeable one, The new owner first pushed every reporter awake to work on retraction stories for an immediate edition. The fact that the new owner was the man they had described as dead in the morning's edition did strike some of them as strange, and they adopted more professional conducts from then on. The others? They wrote what was asked from them.
James then headed to the editor-in-chief's office. After several bouts of heated dialogue, he got out with a new information and a shocked and confused state of mind. At home, he found Remus, who was equally shocked.
"How was it?" the ex-werewolf asked.
"The buying went fine. Objectors were paid double for their parts. Few refused afterwards. New edition available shortly."
"Concise and informative. I think I'll like the new Prophet." Remus commented. "The other bit?"
"The matter for the stories was sent by a Hogwarts owl."
"And we don't know any students able and willing to pull this off. Even as a prank."
A pause. "You don't seem surprised." James accused.
Remus fished a piece of paper from his pocket, and flattened it on the table. "He signed." he said, before heading to the coffee pot.
The message was very short: From S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.
The expletive James uttered shocked the old lady living three blocks down the road.
Midday...
"Now that we have the who and how..." Remus began. "let's try finding the why."
"And how to prevent him from interfering more in our lives." James added sombrely.
"And to think... the bastard recruited Snape!" Sirius added dejectedly.
"Sirius!" Lily admonished. "I understand your concern, but try not to swear in front of Harry."
Harry, sitting in the high chair, laughed at her mother's tone and his godfather's reaction to it. The larger man was properly cowed.
"He likes when I do it." the canine Animagus protested.
"That's even more a reason not to do it." she continued.
Remus frowned. "It's almost as if Dumbledore actively worked for Voldemort instead of fighting him."
"I remember when he came, last night." James said. "He was confused to see the three of us alive."
"Is it dementia?" Sirius asked.
"On the Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump and Headmaster of Hogwarts?" James asked, before shaking his head. "We'll have so stack our deck in order to even ask for him to be checked by St Mungo."
"What can we actually do?" Lily asked.
The silence that answered her was more than enough to lower their already darkened mood.
"Let's just hope that we find something to do in the next ten years." Sirius suddenly.
"Why?" Remus asked.
"Because, in ten years," James began sombrely, "Harry will be at Hogwarts with that madman as Headmaster... and Snape as teacher."
"And, knowing how you two were..." Remus started.
"...it's a disaster waiting to happen." Sirius finished.
That evening...
The Aurors in James' section weren't on active duty that evening. After all, the Dark Lord being dead, there were only a few followers to round up, weren't there?
"To Voldemort's defeat!" Sirius exclaimed, raising his third cocktail already.
James held his glass up, although it was the same since the start of their little celebration. The Aurors had met in a muggle bar near the Leaky Cauldron – it was held by a couple of muggleborn magic-users, who saw no trouble in using a separate room for their wizarding customers.
"To Voldemort's defeat!" the others repeated, cheering.
One of them interrupted himself in the middle of the cheer, though. Frank Longbottom grasped a medallion he was always wearing on himself.
"What is it?" James asked, instantly alert.
"The detection wards around my house... they've been crossed. At least five dark wizards. And Alice is alone with Neville!"
James nodded, before standing up and addressing the crowd of colleagues. "Attention! Enemies are at Frank's place." He then turned to his shocked friend. "Frank, the address?"
Once the address was uttered, everyone Apparated there. A short distance from their arrival point, magical activity could be noticed as seven intruders were trying to get past the house's protection wards.
"Charge!" Sirius yelled, running towards them.
"Sirius, wait!" James exclaimed, but it was too late. Four Death Eaters had already noticed the running figure, and were aiming at him. Swearing, James followed him at a more sedate pace, placing a shield on his friend every couple of steps. It was a tactic that had already been applied with success before, but coordinated tactics implied a modicum of coordination, and charging blindly wasn't the perfect example of such.
Frank hadn't drunk as much as Sirius had, but it was his house which was under attack, and, after a quick exchange with a co-worker, he ran forward as well. The other Aurors fanned out, taking care to cover every angle.
Ten Aurors had arrived to fight seven Death Eaters. It wasn't balanced, but the dark wizards and witches used Unforgivables while the Aurors didn't. It didn't prevent them from using other deadly curses while dodging and generally avoiding the incoming fire. One Auror fell to a Killing Curse while two others were incapacitated by a Cruciatus followed by a Bone Shattering Curse for the first and an Explosion Curse for the second. Among the dark wizards, two were down due to Stunners – teams of Aurors using that spell included one who took care of recasting it as soon as one of their opponents was Enervated, taking advantage of the few seconds of disorientation following the rude awakening. When the team had the advantage in numbers, it worked quite well, since an enemy using an Enervation spell wasn't casting spells on you at the same time.
In the last minutes of the fight, Sirius got hit by a Cutting Curse on his leg. It caused him to fall down heavily, bleeding heavily.
"Widdle Siri hurt?" a mocking voice made itself known through Frank's front lawn. "Widdle Siri want a hug?"
Unfortunately – for her – Bellatrix had a voice which could awaken Sirius wherever volume it was. Sirius looked around, feigning confusion but aiming his wand carefully. When he noticed that his cousin was ready to cast another spell on him, he threw all his might in his own curse. "DIFFINDO!"
The spell cleaved straight through the soft tissues of Bellatrix's abdomen, as well as her spine, and grazed the Death Eater behind her – as well as covering him with blood and gore.
"No last word, bitch?" Sirius yelled. "Good!"
"Sectumsempra!" came from his side. Not able to move because of his leg wound, Sirius thought his last second come, but James was still up and casting, and a shield materialized between the spell and Sirius. The Death Eater turned his head. "Potter!"
"And here I thought I was hearing voices." Sirius muttered. "That seals it. IT'S SNAPE!" he yelled.
"Shut up, Black. Ossus Conflagro! Doloriam Gangrena! Crucio!"
The first two curses were pushed away by James' shields, while Sirius was busy protecting from another Death Eater and dispatching him. Just in time, though, as the Cruciatus cleaved right through James's shield. The pain was intense, but short-lived as well. Holding a Cruciatus necessitated concentration, and one couldn't maintain such concentration while fighting other targets. Especially when one was struck in the middle of a perfectly relaxing session of torture-your-childhood-enemy. Snape was hit by a Concussion spell so strong that the wall behind him gave him another.
As good brothers, Rodolphus and Rastaban Lestrange wanted to leave but not without each other. However, with many curses hitting them, taking the necessary time to catch each other's eye was a luxury. And they both fell to Stunners – that was another advantage of the Stunners: whereas casting several Killing Curses had only one effect and several Imperius just transferred the "master" voice, the Stunner's power was cumulative.
When one of the Aurors fell, each Auror took it like a personal blow. But tonight, one had fallen and seven enemies had been taken down, six of which alive although three were in a bad state.
"Now that we have time to think, Sobering Charms for everyone! The cavalry will arrive sooner or later, and we don't want those criminals to fly away because of some "circumstances"." James commanded, before turning an accusing finger towards his best friend. "And you, Sirius. Never do that charge thing again without at least warning us!" A short pause. "Now, let's see this leg. Episkey. I hope it teaches you something."
"Episkey?"
"No, my dumb friend. To stay safe. And alive." James said, holding his hand to help his friend up.
"What's the fun in that?" Sirius asked as he stood up tentatively, only to wince as soon as his weight shifted on his injured leg.
"That's St Mungo for you, again." James said, eyeing his friend critically.
"Right into my plans. There's this little nurse..."
James shook his head. "You're incorrigible."
"Hey! That's what the ladies tell me." A pause. "James?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks, mate. You're a good bloke. I hope Harry takes after you."
"Compared to you." James asked, smiling mischievously. "He'd better."
"Hey!"
To be continued in next chapter: Family Man...
Author's Notes: This is where fiction meets... the same fiction. I have a couple chapters planned after this one, but, as I don't intend to follow canon at all, I'll need time to organize my thoughts to build a proper storyline afterwards (though I have some ideas). Thanks for the reviews, you know that they keep me going (and I can get some ideas from there too – winks).