North Wind Rising ~

Notes: Ha hah…lookit this, Stripes finally got off her lazy ass to write some more! Cue the fanfare! Right about now, I've got many piles of unfinished and untouched homework in my room, building up with every second I ignore them, and when I finally get around to looking at it, the pile will fall down and bury me alive. So what do I decide to do? Post! Yay. XP Ok, in this chapter, I am NOT bashing Lily! I don't hate her at all! It's all party of the story, pets, and hopefully I know what I'm doing. And other than that, no warnings, except maybe watch out for language (though it's not strong).

And actually, if you look closely, you'll find that Stripes knows NOTHING whatever about flowers and soil and planting…I'm just spouting steam, people. Don't take me seriously. Any sort of advice is welcome, though, so feel free to nag. And yes, people, I am aware that plants can't pop up in a week or whatever time frame it might be, and it is VERY unrealistic, but poor Harry needs to open his shop, so let's just pretend that his flowers grow really fast, please?

Reviews: Many thanks to all! Crazy Pear, you need to up your medication. XD. I'm just kidding…sorta. Riyo, warbl365, malu, ears91, Kar'Nia, you people are feeding a monster. Yay!!

Enjoy! AND REVIEW! Gar!!

Disclaimer: Nope. Yes. You all know it by heart.

Chapter 4: The Possible Threats

            Harry hung his wooden sign over the door, climbed down his stepladder, and took a deep breath. He dusted the dust of his hands and walked back into his store, smiling.

            The Phoenix Feather was officially open for business.

"Hermione! 'Mione!!"

Hermione Granger turned around and was barraged suddenly with a solid force of familiar warmth.

            "Ron!" She squeaked into his chest, quite breathless from the shock.

            His arms tightened around her in greeting.

            "How's it been? I've missed ye, Mione!"

            She laughed, feeling quite giddy. Ron was back!

            "What – what are you doing here? You weren't supposed to return until the end of the week!"

            Hermione felt Ron shrug.

            "Wanted to give ye a surprise. Did it work?"

            Hermione pulled back and linked their fingers together, while Ron grinned. He was a bit more tanned, the brunette noticed, definitely more freckles, perhaps a little taller, too, but she might be getting a bit carried away – and he still had the same blue eyes and nose and mouth, good, and that head of bright hair, it grew a bit, but Hermione didn't mind. He was still Ron, just the way she liked him.

            Hermione nodded. "It did! I see you've picked up a bit of an accent!"

            The redhead wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

            "Well, being in Romania for a month doesn't account for nothin' y'know! I've gotta take you there one day, 'Mione, you'd love it! The scenery is gorgeous, and the sights! All this history behind the architecture, too. I know how you love that stuff…"

            As Ron prattled excitedly on, Hermione leaned up and gave him a peck on the cheek. The chatter dried up immediately, and Ron flushed.

            Hermione smiled. "I've missed you, too." And then she laughed, pulling at her boyfriend's arm.

            "Come on! You can tell me all about your adventures at the newest café in town! I've been busy the last few weeks as well! I can't wait to show you, I've got a new friend…"

            "Hello?"

            "Hey! Have you heard the news?!"

            "What? That Alexandra Phinnel ran off and eloped with her fat, balding Latin tutor?"

            "No! That's sick! I meant about the new shop!"

            "New shop? Can't say I have."

            "No? It's been the top news of the town for almost a month now! There's a new shop and café type thing down on Gryffindor Square, and apparently the owner's a kid, barely even twenty years old!"

            "They're just rumours, you know. Why would a perfectly healthy teenage boy come to Hogwarts to open up a shop, for goodness sake? Do you know even what kind of merchandise he's selling?"

            "Not a clue. I haven't been out lately, but I've heard that all the town idiots are getting all excited about it: there're these odd smells that are floating around the street, coming from the new shop!"

            "Aromas? Odd? What do they smell like?"

            "How am I to know? I told you, I haven't a chance to check it out yet. Wanna come with me tomorrow?"

            "What, too afraid to go by yourself?"

            "Hell no!"

            "I fail to see why my appearance will help matters any, not that there's a problem in the first place."

            "Come on, you owe me! You're always cooped up in that lonely, evil castle of yours and you never come down to the village anymore! How am I going to attract attention if there's nothing to attract it with?"

            "I can't believe you just said that! First, I owe you nothing. If anything, you owe me."

            "What?? The frog incident had nothing to do with me, I swear, it was already –"

            "Second, I live in a cottage. Third, you know I'm not welcome at all in Hogwarts, and lastly, I'm certain that you could find a way to create some sort of mess and attract a whole mess of paparazzi to stare at you and your exploits."

            "Yeah? But I need a partner in crime!"

            "Ha! Sirius Black, asking for help? I'm struck."

            "Moony, please? What if this guy turns out to be a stalker and becomes obsessed with me? I'll need you as a witness!"

            "Your imagination astounds me, as always."

            "Please?"

            "…"

            "Moony!"

            "Alright, alright! I'll come over tomorrow at lunch."

            "Great! Can you bring your hunting rifle with you?"

            "No, Sirius."

            "Your crossbow?"

            "No, Sirius."

            "Your mousetraps, then!"

            "Padfoot…"

            "Fine! Be that way!"

            "I'll see you tomorrow, Padfoot."

            "Here we are!"

            "This is it?"

            Hermione grinned proudly. "Yup! The Phoenix Feather! Actually, you couldn't have come at a better time, I was just about to come for lunch, Harry just opened the shop a few hours ago."

            She led him around the side of the store, over to the backyard and pointed out to patches of dirt, with many green sprouts distributed throughout. "Harry already picked clean the first garden, so this is set number two. Look, I planted marigolds there, morning glories there, crocuses there," the list went on.

            Ron rolled his eyes, cutting her off. "Hey, 'Mione, not to burst your bubble or anything, but I don't think you can grow crocuses with marigolds; crocuses are mainly wild flowers. You've just used regular soil!"

            Hermione sniffed. "Shows what you know. You'll see them bloom by next week, you watch. And Harry told me he put in some special fertilizer in the earth, and it helps the plants grow faster and healthier."

            "Someone mentioned my name?"

            Hermione twirled around. "Oh! Harry! Congratulations on opening your shop! Have you gotten any customers yet?"

            Harry gave her a friendly hug. "Not yet, no. But I've only been in business for what, three hours?" He looked over to the other man, standing sort of awkwardly away from them. Harry smiled. "Hello, who's this?"

            Hermione reached out and took Ron's wrist. "Harry, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Ron Weasley. Ron, this is Harry."

            Ron shook Harry's outstretched hand. "Pleased to meet ye, mate."

            "Likewise. Hermione's told me a lot about you."

            "Oh? Any bad things?"

            Hermione swatted his arm. "Ron! Accusing me, of gossiping?" 

            Harry laughed. "Come on in, I'll brew a pot of tea."

            Hermione brightened. "Yes! I'll show you the neat job I did arranging Harry's cookware set. We had a problem at first, because he had these huge pots and pans for who knows what and the cupboards were in these inconvenient places, so I thought that it'd be helpful if…"

            Harry opened the back door and ushered his first two customers inside.

            "So, Harry, how did you get to meet Hermione?"

            Ron bit into a cookie and looked at his companion, eyebrows raised. Hermione had left them briefly to pick up some papers she left in the schoolhouse the day before, and Ron was hoping to use this time to get to know Harry, and his intentions, a little better.

            Harry shrugged. "Well, she kicked a rock at my head."

            Ron choked. "What?"

            Harry smiled and told of the day, many weeks ago, when he had met his first friend in Hogwarts while weeding his garden.

            After he was finished, Ron let out a whistle. "Interesting way to meet, if I ever saw one."

            Harry nodded. "Ah, well, I've had worse."

            "Oh yeah? Where're ye from?"

            "Everywhere, I guess," Harry said casually. "I travel a lot, and I've been pretty much everywhere."

            "Sounds like a sweet life."

            "Yeah, well, living in Little Whinging for a couple of years put all thoughts of setting up a permanent home out of my head."

            "Was it that bad a neighbourhood?"

            "Yeah. And the orphanage itself wasn't top notch either."

            Ron's eyes widened. "Oh, man, I'm sorry."

            Harry smiled grimly. "Don't be. There's no point."

            "Right," the redhead flushed and tried to move onto more pleasant matters. "You much of a sports player at all?"

            Harry laughed. "I'm not a big fan, but I'm fairly adequate in everything. Not professional level, of course, but I'm sure you could get a good game from me."

            "Good game, eh?" Ron grinned. "What's about chess?"

            Harry paused. Chess was an interesting game. He didn't mind it at all, but the given silence made him nervous. Sometimes if he was very concentrated on the game, he wouldn't pay enough attention to his mind, and certain words might be let out that were not supposed to…Harry had bad experiences with mistakes like that. But Ron was looking at him hopefully, and Harry could just tell that the other was a brilliant player.

            "I like chess," Harry said. He'd just have to remember to watch what he said when playing. It couldn't be that hard. And besides, making new friends in new towns was important, and to make new friends you have to share common interests. How many times had he recited this to himself now?

            Ron's eyes lit up, much like Harry had expected. "Great! I should bring my chessboard around sometime; we can play a few games! About time, I never get any decent competition around here!"

            Harry smiled, albeit not whole-heartedly. Was getting too involved with Ron a mistake? Harry shrugged it off as paranoia. Ron was really a nice guy.

            So the two talked pleasantly, with frequent snack breaks, until Hermione returned with a bundle of folders cradled in her arms.

            "Sorry, Harry," she rushed out, trying to organize her stack on the table. "I've got more work that I had thought. I have to leave early today, but I'll come visit tomorrow, alright?"

            Harry waved dismissively. "Yes, yes, go on. Baby Harry knows how to take care of himself."

            "So, what do you think?"

            "It's a nice place," Ron answered truthfully. He was walking Hermione home, just like he used to do everyday. The comfort of going back to this routine slid over him like a hot chocolate on a cold winter day.

            "And…what about Harry?" Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully. She had been afraid, at first, that Ron might be jealous of her new friendship. It wasn't like him to be out-of-control envious, but just peeved enough for her to feel guilty.

            "I like him, he's a nice bloke," Ron grinned. He wasn't sure at first what to make of Harry, but after talking to him, he seemed kind enough, and not at all interested in stealing his girlfriend. And now, even better! He had new competition for chess.

            Hermione sighed in relief. "Good, that's good to hear. Harry's a dear, you'll see, and he gives me free cookies! I'm sure you two will hit it right off!"

            She went on about the types of flowers Harry was growing, and the business plan that she drew up for him, which Ron had no doubt was lying forgotten in a drawer somewhere, and the two walked on, hand in hand, to Hermione's apartment. Ron had thought it curious, at the time, the way that Harry avoided the subject of his family when Ron had brought up his, but it didn't seem to matter so much now. Maybe Harry was just one of those shy people – oh that's right. He was an orphan. That was a bit of a downer. Ron wondered if Herm knew…but she usually was aware of everything, so he supposed…

            That's okay. It didn't really matter. Hermione leaned up to kiss him, and Ron promptly forgot all about Harry.

            "Ah! There it is!"

            "This is it?"

            "Yeah, and looks like the guy has done a good job tidying the place up!"

            "You know, I've always wondered, why have you never bought this place? It's not like you couldn't afford it. You're not a Scrooge."

            "No, but I'm lazy."

            "How silly of me to forget."

            Sirius walked up to the front doors of the new store and pushed them open. Remus followed, looking up as he heard the gentle tingling of a little silver bell notifying their presence.

            "Just a sec!" A muffled yell came from a room to their left, and Remus brushed past Sirius to get a better look around him. He wandered around quietly, taking in the sights of the many odd objects placed upon various bookshelves, the scent of the seemingly hundreds of plants growing in their pots, and the sound of a pair of feet crossing the floor.

            "Hey, what can I do for you?"

            Remus fingered the petals of a bright fuchsia orchid, looking up when he heard no audible answer from Sirius.

            He froze when he saw the owner of the store, and found he wasn't capable of uttering a word either.

            Oh. Lord.

            The same hair, the same jaw, the same nose, the same stature too! But it couldn't be! Remus was sure he was hallucinating, it wasn't – no way – it couldn't be –

            Beside him, Remus barely acknowledged Sirius' dry choke.

            The shopkeeper's green eyes – those eyes – darted back and forth between the two men.

            "Er, is there a problem?"

            Sirius choked again.

            "James?" He whispered tersely.

            Remus felt tears pricking at the back of his eyes.

            "James?" Sirius repeated, more forcefully.

            The shopkeeper looked at them like they were crazy.

            Remus took a difficult step, still not quite believing his eyes, and watched as the other took a step back.

            "Hey, now, wait. I don't want any trouble. If you were sent here by someone to get me, I think it'd be best if you leave --"

            Remus could see the sudden suspicion in the boy's eyes. He could smell his fear.

            Remus' eyes ran across a lightening bolt shaped scar, marring the boy's pale forehead, half covered by that mop of James' hair. What was this – this boy wasn't – he wasn't?  And Remus could now immediately tell – he noticed how differently the boy stood, the strange shape of his eyes, the not-James air of how he spoke…

            Remus stiffened. "You aren't James."

            The shopkeeper seemed relieved, but only slightly.

            "No, I don't know who James is. I'm Harry."

            There was a heavy thump on the wooden floor as Sirius Black fainted.

            "I'm really sorry about this; it's just that he's had such a nasty shock. You really do look like an old childhood friend of ours, though," Remus explained hastily, as he tucked a pillow under Sirius' head.

            Harry covered the unconscious man with a thin blanket and put a glass of water on the bedside table.

            "It's no problem at all. I'm pretty sure he'll be fine, but in the meantime, why don't I fix you a cup of something?"

            Remus thanked him, apologized again, gave Sirius' still form one last glance, and headed down the stairs after Harry.

            "So you two live around here?" Harry had asked, once they sat down and were sipping on their drinks.

            "I suppose," Remus started, "I live near the Forbidden Forest, and Sirius has this huge mansion north of this town. We're not really citizens of Hogwarts; though we do think ourselves to part of this town."

            "Forbidden Forest, eh? I've heard of it. Sounds really spooky."

            Remus nodded grimly. "You've no idea."

            "Oh yeah? Try me."

            "Do you believe in fairy tales?"

            The youth appeared to be thinking it over.

            "That depends on which ones, I suppose."

            Remus smiled. "What if I told you 'all of them'?"

            Harry smirked. "Then I'd have to see it with my own eyes."

            Remus laughed.

            After the shopkeeper had poured out the tea, Remus found himself sitting at a nice wooden table with plush red chairs to accompany it. He loved this shop already.

            "So, tell me, Harry, what exactly do you sell here?"

            "Can't you tell?" His green eyes twinkled at him, and Remus couldn't help but feel a surge of remembrance he hadn't felt in a long time.

            "If I had to guess, I'd have to say…flowers?"

            "Yep. And I'm moonlighting as a waiter, too."

            Remus stiffened unconsciously, and then relaxed when he realized Harry was just joking.

            "Then I insist I pay for this tea," Remus hastily said.

            Harry held up a hand. "Think nothing of it. It's on the house."

            "Don't be silly, I insist." He took a few coins out of his pocket, and handed them over to a reluctant florist.

            "Sir, it's really not a problem, you know," the boy said, looking at the coins in his palm strangely.

            "You mean Sirius? No, he'll come around soon enough, I expect."

            Harry didn't really mean that at all. He took in the other's shabby clothes in warily.

            "Look, Harry - can I call you Harry?" The other nodded before Remus had a chance to realize that he didn't know what to call him except Harry, "you want to make a living, don't you? You're a young lad! Stores need to make money!"

            Before Harry could answer, a loud yell came from upstairs, and in an instant both men were on their feet.

            "REMUS!"

            Remus dashed upstairs, Harry right behind him.

            Sirius was tearing through the upstairs rooms, sticking his head into every nook and cranny, and it wasn't until after Remus stood in front of him yelling, "I'm here, I'm here, I'm not dead yet!" that he shut his mouth and stilled.

            "Oh, there you are."

            Remus sighed. "Yes, we were right downstairs! You needn't have made such a ruckus!"

            "Well I thought that you'd been dragged off somewhere! How do we know that shopkeeper isn't a –" Sirius stopped. And looked ready to faint again. "That kid! The one that looks like James! Where is he?!"

            "I'm right here," Harry said smoothly, leaning against the wall.

            "You!" Sirius growled out, swiftly grabbing onto his collar, lifting Harry to the tips of his toes. The sudden bout of energy was unnerving, and Harry gulped.

            "Who are your parents?!" The taller man demanded, squinting at his captive.

            "What?!" Harry nearly shouted. "What does that have to do with anything? Put me down!" He pushed against Sirius' hands, and felt himself drop back to his feet.

            But the black-haired stranger didn't let up his grip round Harry's neck. "Don't mess with me boy, you don't know who you're dealing with. I asked you: who are your parents?"

            Harry jerked his rumpled shirt back down his stomach. "No affair of yours. Get bent."

            "What – you!"

            "If you wanted to know something, the least you could've done is ask me nicely. I lent my bed to you, after all," Harry bit out, pulled his collar out of the other's hand, and turned his back, heading back downstairs.

            Remus was at his side in a blink. "No! Harry! Sirius doesn't mean any harm! He was just taken aback, and when he's caught off guard he tends to overreact and bit, and really, you do look uncannily like this person we knew, that we lost contact with a long time ago…" His voice faded into first floor of the house.

            Sirius was left alone. He stood, immobile, for a very long time, then took a leveling breath and dropped to the floor.

            "That – that kid," he gasped, running a shaking hand through his long hair, "he's… he has to be!" But his mind screamed at him. He's not! You know he's not!

            He could be…the resemblance…

            James isn't coming back, Sirius. Get a hold of yourself.

            That boy wasn't James. And James isn't coming back.

            ~

"You're really leaving??"

            A twenty-one year old Sirius stood frozen in the doorway, looking desperately at his best friend, and the suitcase the other held in his hand.

            James nodded, looking out the window.

            "But – but, you can't!"

            "I need to," James said calmly.

            "Like hell you do!" Sirius roared, suddenly furious, and ripped the suitcase out of James' grip.

            "Padfoot, please, don't you get it?" James implored.

            "Don't you Padfoot me, James Potter! I know perfectly well what's going on! You're leaving to chase after that girl, aren't you?"

            James stood very still.

            "Yeah," he said at length. "I am."

            "No you're not!" Sirius thumped the suitcase down, feeling like a toddler who was being told he couldn't draw on the walls. Except he wasn't a toddler, and he wasn't drawing on walls, he was losing his best friend, to some…some floozy witch!

            "Sirius, I have to go! Don't you see? Lily needs me, she can't survive out there by herself!"

            "Seems to me she was doing alright before she met you!"

            "That was different! She had a home then, friends and family! I love her! I can't let her skip town because she had a few disagreements with the neighbours!"

            "James! That's just what she wants you to believe! I can't believe this! That bitch has pulled a thick blindfold over your eyes, James! Look at yourself! The Longbottoms have never been anything but nice to Lily, and she's never done anything but spew out lies right in your face!"

            James was too quick; Sirius was pinned against the wall before he got another word in.

            "Don't," and his voice was as sharp as knives. "Ever. Talk. That way. About Lily, EVER AGAIN!"

            Sirius flinched.

            "You just don't understand her, Sirius," James whispered, not loosening his hold on Sirius' neck. "I do. She needs space, she's not well fitted in a village, she needs to be free. Didn't you see? She was suffocating here. If anything, I'm glad she left before she went insane from all these horrible accusations the people – and YOU, Sirius! You too! – have thrown at her! She needs me to take care of her!"

            "SHE DOESN'T!!" Sirius yelled, pushing back on James. He jabbed a finger in his friend's chest. "She doesn't need you, she doesn't care about you, she left town because she got tired of you!"

            "What the hell is the matter with you?" James spat. "I thought you, of all people, would WANT me to be with Lily! Wasn't it you who made up all of those 'infallible plans' to get us together?!"

            "That was BEFORE! I didn't know her!" Sirius gripped his friend's shoulders. "Listen to me James, that girl's got more than a few dark secrets hidden behind that pretty face of hers. She's practically brainwashed you already! She never planned to settle down with you, James, can't you see that? It was just part of her SCHEME to take advantage of you, because she was desperate for money and had no place to stay!! She NEVER – LOVED – YOU."

            James took an unsteady step back. "No, no – you're lying. Lily wouldn't, I know her, she loves me—"

            "She doesn't love you, James," Sirius said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You know it; you've known it all along."

            James shook his head wildly, and the light reflected off his glasses. "No, no, she told me, just a few nights ago…"

            "She was lying," Sirius stated, his face etched in rage. "She deceived all of us, especially you. Lord, Remus and I have been praying every night that you might come to your senses soon."

            "But!" But James had stopped moving now. His eyes were lowered, and his expression depicted someone had a dagger impaled into his heart.

            "I'm sorry, James."

            The other didn't speak.

            "But look on the bright side," Sirius said humourlessly. "At least she's gone now. We'll never have to see her again. You'll get better, don't worry, I know it hurts now –"

            "NO!!"

Less than a second, James abruptly shoved past Sirius, picked up his suitcase, and shot out the door.

            "JAMES!!" Sirius hollered, running after him.

            But he was too late. The night's shadow was too thick, and James' dark figure had become smaller and smaller in the distance, Sirius ran faster, but he wasn't fast enough, and James was getting harder to see…and then, he was gone.

            Sirius stopped running.

            He stood alone, in the black of night, the wind whipping all around him, whipping his hair, whipping his face, howling loudly in his ear.

            "JAMES!!" Sirius screamed again, but the wind was so strong he couldn't even hear his own echo, and his voice faded away into the emptiness.

            ~

Sirius dropped his head in his hands. It had been so long ago…what was it? Nineteen, almost twenty years ago…and he could still remember so vividly, just like he was experiencing it for the first time…

            It was very painful, to have to accept that your best friend in the whole world had abandoned you, for an unknown girl with a mysterious past and an attractive appearance. Sirius lived in denial for quite a long time, and if it wasn't for Remus, he'd have likely left Hogwarts a long time ago; he really had no one else to hold on to.

            Sirius had never lost hope that James was still out there in the world, alive and well, but Remus had long since given up, because James never had written, never made contact, and though the two had searched endlessly for him, James pretty much seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth.

            But now?

            That kid…

            He had Lily's eyes. He had seen them blazing at him when Sirius had threatened him. Such an intense shade of green…

            He had to be James' son. He just had to be.

            Downstairs, Remus had managed to apologize profusely on Sirius' behalf, and Harry had long since calmed down.

            "Yes, so he does have a bit of a temper, as you saw," Remus finished, feeling utterly guilty. Harry had been so kind, and there goes Sirius with his fat mouth, being a jackass again!   He oughtn't have bothered to defend him; Remus felt like stomping on Black until he was a bloody pulp. 

            Harry nodded, yet looked a bit uncomfortable. "I don't really understand your situation, Remus, and I'm not going to pretend that I do. And, er, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm curious: why did your friend faint like that? Do I look that much like this James?"

            Remus hesitated. Because, really, it was so odd. "You could be his twin," he admitted, scrutinizing Harry. "Well, I meant at your age. James was our best friend and he left us almost two decades ago."

            "Oh, I'm sorry."

            "Yes, I'm sorry too. We never did find him. He ran out on us one day, and we tried looking for him, but he'd disappeared. Sirius still foolishly hopes James will return one day, but I'm pretty certain that he died long ago."

            "James…" Harry murmured thoughtfully. "That's a nice name."

            Remus chuckled. "Yeah, he was altogether too proud of it for his own good. A huge ego, James had. That's why when he met Lily, and she easily ignored his charms, he got so quickly infatuated with her."

            "Marriage?"

            Remus tilted his head. "You know, that's curious, I've never thought about it until now. I was always thinking about James' safety and getting James back, I never gave a second thought to Lily Evans."

            "What, they ran off together?"

            "You could say that," Remus answered, and sighed.

            Harry laughed. "They probably eloped."

            Remus' eyes widened.

            He'd never thought of that, either.

            Remus left The Phoenix Feather in a very contemplative mood, but nonetheless felt very refreshed. Whether it was the new face he'd met, or the comfortable aroma he'd been in, Remus wasn't sure. Sirius sulked beside him, Remus having forced him to apologize to Harry, and Harry had graciously accepted with a slightly-mocking wink. Sirius had apparently gotten over the possibility that Harry might be into espionage, but now was dead certain that the lad was "up to no good" and a "deceiving twit", to which Remus replied with "tell me what he did wrong," and Sirius would fall silent.

            A very entertaining day, to say the least.

            "He what?!"

            A glass was slammed onto a hard desk and auburn brown liquid sloshed out of its confinements angrily.

            Peter Pettigrew gulped and wrung his hands together.

            "He…he opened his shop, Mayor – sir."

            A low growl.

            "I – I don't particularly think that – that he'll be much of a threat, sir, really," goodness, his fingers were shaking, he was that nervous, "I heard he only sells flowers and things – little trifles of no importance, anyway – and he's so young."

            "Ah!"

            A dry laugh.

            "Is that what you're worried about, Pettigrew?"

            The addressed shifted the weight on his feet, and fought the very overwhelming urge to run out of the room.

            "Is what, sir?"

            Silver-blonde hair gleamed under the solitary ray of light in the darkened office.

            "Feeling a bit…guilty, eh, Peter?" The words slurred. "Not too good for your conscience, I imagine, to be murdering people? You're only doing your job, you know."

            Peter Pettigrew's eyes widened, his forehead was pasted with sweat.

            "No – no, that's not it at all, Mayor- sir. It was only that he hardly seems dangerous at all, not like that scum Hagrid, who you disposed of most marvelously, if I may say so. Sir. He's only a boy selling flowers. After all." His speech was rushed, he was anxious not to upset his superior.

            "No…threat, hmm?"

            A piece of crinkled paper was slid across the polished desk.

            It was more brown and jagged at the edges. Faded printing spread across the sheet – the format was different, Peter Pettigrew saw, it must be from another town – but in the middle, a large black and white photo caught his attention instantly: messy hair, glasses, that subtle smile – and at the top of the page, the title, bold and clear:

            Wanted. DEAD OR ALIVE. Reward.

            Peter Pettigrew lowered the page and carefully folded it, pocketed it. He didn't dare look up at was sure to be a maniacal gleam in the grey eyes watching his every move, regarding his every breath with thought. But he didn't need to.

            His voice was smooth now, all traces of drunkenness gone.

            "I want him killed."

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