A/N: Man! You guys have no idea how excited I've been for this day to finally get here.
The previous book "Fabula Post Bellum: The Schism Revival" was, as those of you who have read it know, a massive project, and if you want to hear something a little crazy, a bit of a slog toward the end even for the author. Not to say that I don't enjoy writing - quite the contrary - but sometimes you're just super ready to unleash a new project on the world, but when you're working on a serial, that's not how it works. You can't really start releasing chapters of the new book before you finish the previous one and inform everybody what the hell's going on. I mean, you can, but then it gets confusing and your readers are trying to be in two places at once chronologically and you start posting chapters for the new story on the old thread - yes, I've had that happen to me once upon a time. Anyway, because I'm not George Lucas, doing it this way is simpler.
Anyway, as promised, in celebration of Hogwarts Train Day - does that have a different name that I missed somewhere? In any case, it's September 1. Any HP fan serious enough to be reading fanfictions on here knows what that means ;) - I am proud and excited to present to you the next installment in the Fabula Post Bellum series. Hope you enjoy!
THE GIFTED CHILDREN
Volume IV of the Fabula Post Bellum Saga
Chapter 1: Number Fourteen
POP!
From out of a flash of lightning, a shape came into view, silhouetted against the driving June rain. The cloaked form stood at the center of the paved cul-de-sac, slowly turning to survey its surroundings. The gray of the rainy evening flashed white for a split-second, shortly followed by a terrible peal of thunder that seemed to make the entire street vibrate with its low rumblings.
But the short, slightly squat form in the center of the circle was quite warm and dry despite the awful storm.
"Thank Merlin for the Impervius charm," the old witch mused aloud to herself. "Or whoever invented it. Now, let's see here… seven... fourteen…"
The old witch preferred the countryside, with her cottage and large garden full of all manner of plants, both mundane and magical. In fact, she hadn't come calling to the city of London in years. But she had been invited this evening. Despite magic rendering her rather unaffected by the current weather (and it would help her garden - the past several weeks had been unusually dry), she couldn't help the tiniest tinge of annoyance as she scanned the cul-de-sac for the house that was to be her destination. What a day to ask someone to travel, she thought with a sigh.
All of these buildings were finely crafted - not like her simple countryside cottage. And she was fine with that. The dwellings in this small neighborhood all seemed like far too much house for a witch of her age to be going on with. Which begged the question of why…
Because Britain wanted it for her, she reminded herself. They felt she deserves it. And they're probably right.
Number Fourteen, Ellington Circle, she had been told, was the second house on the left. An old Auror had left it for his granddaughter when he moved to Hogsmeade - another move, in the old witch's opinion, that made no sense. Why did people choose to live in Hogsmeade? Winter lasted about eight months and it was nigh impossible to grow anything…
The granddaughter, opting for simpler accommodations, had sold the house at a handsome price to a group wishing to purchase a nice home on behalf of a certain former Hogwarts Headteacher to live out her retirement years.
The old witch walked up to the door of Number Fourteen, intent on knocking, only to find it swing open at her arrival. The house inside was inlaid with crimson and gold decor - of course. (The old witch had tried something similar with her small countryside cottage initially - only to find that yellow was much too bright and black much too dark).
Mrrrrrroowwww.
She looked down to see a dark gray cat looking up at her with large, curious, green eyes. It was… cute, she supposed? She didn't much like cats - or really, animals in general. Much more of a plant person. But cats came with the territory in dealing with this particular woman, so she had learned to tolerate them. She wondered if there were more around. Maybe three in total? The owner of this house had once mentioned to her that three cats seemed like a good number to own for an old, retired witch that loved cats.
"What is it, Isobel?" a voice called. The gray cat's head whipped around instantly, and the old witch looked up from where the cat was leaving her ankles, following her four-footed trail to the feet of...
The two women exchanged warm smiles.
"Isobel?" the guest repeated. "After your mother."
The homeowner was another older witch, with a bespectacled face that seemed small underneath the quite large witch's hat she had been known for wearing. The guest almost had to laugh to herself. She really did wear that hat everywhere.
"I only got her this past spring," the homeowner said. With a sad tinge to her smile, she added, "After Harriet passed away."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," the guest witch answered sadly, her face falling.
"Isobel's still a young one," the homeowner replied, her smile brightening. "Just a year and a half. She might even outlast me."
"I should hope not," the guest witch replied, a bit of alarm coloring her voice. "You're not nearly old enough to be talking like that."
"No? Ninety, or near enough," the homeowner said. "I don't believe I'm in any danger of dropping dead right here in front of you, but in five, ten years… who knows?"
"You sound almost excited," the guest witch, who was several years the other's junior, commented, unable to hide an involuntary shudder. "It's unnerving."
"Excited? No, not really. Curious? ….'After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.' A wise, wise wizard told me that once. I'm not saying I'm quite ready for another adventure now, but I do suppose the peace and quiet will start to bore me after a while."
Then her smile brightened, and the guest could have sworn she saw the eyes water behind the spectacles.
"It's been far too long, Pomona."
"Yes, yes, I know," Pomona Sprout replied a bit uncomfortably. "It shouldn't take something like this for a visit. But you know how much I hate the city, Minerva."
"I know." Minerva McGonagall smiled an amused smile. "That's why I haven't pressed the issue. But given recent events, I thought this was a good time for a discussion."
"Honestly…" Sprout turned her head toward the front door. "Tomorrow would have been much better. Sun was in the forecast, if I remember correctly."
"I couldn't tomorrow," McGonagall apologized. "The Ministry has requested my presence. Revising the possible uses of Transfiguration in crime for a batch of Magical Law Enforcement trainees…"
Sprout smiled to herself. An educator through and through. I almost wonder why she bothered retiring in the first place.
"Potter again?" asked Sprout.
But McGonagall shook her head. "Patrols this time. Granger kindly came in person."
"I thought it was Weasley now?" Sprout queried. The girl had gotten married to one of the many Weasley sons and had several children by now, if memory served...
"Granger, Weasley, Granger-Weasley." McGonagall waved her hand. "I believe she answers to any of them."
"They made her permanent, I'm guessing, then," Sprout commented. "Good for her. Sweet girl. And clever. Always liked her."
"I wish I could have hired her. She would have made more than a fair Professor of… anything, really," McGonagall said. "But she's always told me her place is in the Ministry, and who am I to argue with her? Her current position has produced more than its share of Ministers in recent decades. And on the subject of Professors..."
Her tone then turned slightly serious.
"I imagine you know what this discussion is about."
"Yes," admitted Sprout.
"Well, make yourself at home. I'll fix us some tea," McGonagall offered. "Here, Isobel."
And she left the room with her cat at her heels.
Several minutes later, the two old teachers were indeed at a table over tea. Sprout glanced that there were several more chairs at the table.
"Pity Horace couldn't be here," McGonagall mused. Sprout looked up from her smoking mug for a second, thinking that this was an odd way to refer to a man who had died about five years prior. Almost as if he were simply ill or otherwise indisposed. "I always imagined us having this conversation with him. Say what you will about the man, but he had an eye for talent."
"Did you not think Filius would last as long as he did?" Sprout asked.
"It's not that. Honestly, I thought Horace would last longer," McGonagall said sadly. "But I suppose he did his bit by mentoring Ambrose. Not that he needed it all that much..."
Silence.
"Your plan's gone to pieces a bit - don't you think, Minerva?" Sprout finally asked.
Minerva McGonagall took a brief sip of her tea and answered, "No. Not at all."
Sprout raised her eyebrows. "You must know by now Longbottom won't take it, even if offered."
"I know," McGonagall replied. "At this point, I would almost hope not. He's got his family to look after. A wife, a baby daughter… last thing he needs is the responsibility of all of Britain's wizarding youth on top of that."
"I'm happy for both of them," Sprout said. "Her, especially. I was never able from the beginning. I couldn't imagine losing one. Much less losing three…"
Sprout paused.
"Are you alright?" McGonagall asked.
"Oh, it's been fifty years, Minerva, don't coddle me," Sprout responded immediately and a bit snippily. She did still wonder from time to time if he was still alive, perhaps even now enjoying time with his children - and likely, by now, grandchildren. Everything she had not been able to give him. It was lucky in a way. Perhaps, if he had lied to himself by showing up for the wedding that day, she'd be decades deep in an unhappy marriage.
She shook her head. Now was not the time to dwell on the distant past. They had the future to discuss.
"But they're going to come to you at some point," she went on. "Who are you going to recommend? I don't think any of 'them' are ready."
"Gladstone could handle it. If she had to," replied McGonagall. "But she is still a bit young, and I don't think she particularly enjoyed the taste she got last year. Not to mention…"
She trailed off inexplicably.
"So what's your plan?" asked Sprout.
"'I' don't have a plan," McGonagall countered. "Remember, I don't have any actual power in this decision."
"I quite disagree, Minerva," Sprout replied. "They'll at least take your advice under consideration as Headmistress Emerita, and that's why your word matters in the first place, does it not?"
McGonagall sipped her tea very slowly. Sprout did not; McGonagall had the air of someone about to reveal something quite important. "You're right," she said. "You're absolutely right. My hope… Pomona… is that our Board of Governors will make the right decision, even if it comes off as a bit... unorthodox."
"I dare say the Board of Governors felt like their reason for existing was to counterbalance some of your…" Pomona Sprout raised her eyebrows, at last betraying a smile. "...unorthodoxy. They'll certainly be cautious this time, what with Filius's disaster last year…"
"Filius did not create that disaster," McGonagall replied, her eyes flashing behind her spectacles. Not to say that McGonagall had gone soft in her retirement, but for a moment, Sprout could see a glimpse of the iron-willed witch that the great Albus Dumbledore had once trusted enough to name his second-in-command and de facto successor. "Only - perhaps - mismanaged it. And Gladstone, who he trained as his deputy - over their protests, mind you - did an admirable job of controlling the damage, so that has to count for something. Rest assured, if I'd had the slightest bit of evidence of who… of what that man was, he never would have been employed at Hogwarts under my watch, and to hell with the Board of Governors' opinions-"
She stopped. Her face had been turning red.
"It was a mistake," she finally admitted. "My mistake. Even against my better judgment, before we found out any of this… but Albus was never afraid to hire people with… let's say, less than sterling reputations. Always with a purpose. He was effective at his job - you can't deny that - and I thought he would placate the Board enough for them to tolerate some of my… other decisions."
"You were a splendid Headmistress, Minerva," Sprout assured her. "I'm still shocked you decided to retire. Even Horace was well over a hundred when-"
"-when I kindly discussed with him that it was getting to be time for our generation to step aside," McGonagall interrupted. "If I had died in the Headmistress's chair, I would have done so knowing that I had stayed around too long. 'A long shadow should reveal the light of others, not extinguish it.'"
"Another Dumbledore quote?" asked Sprout.
"Honestly, I can't remember who said that - but I believe it," McGonagall replied. "I have for years. What Albus did teach me, however… is the value of contingencies - being prepared for several different outcomes. I'm sure you'll remember, Pomona, that I made another hire some years back, before your retirement…"
Sprout gasped. "...That's your recommendation? B-b-but… but the governors will never accept him. Parents may even be furious…"
"Because of his origins?" queried McGonagall, peering knowingly through her glasses. "I had rather hoped our society was past those sorts of assumptions and prejudices."
"That's a fine hope to have," Sprout answered seriously. "But fact says that there are still those in our society that would hold something like that against him…"
"And Britain fought two wars against itself and decimated its own wizarding population based on giving the opinions of those sorts of people far too much power," McGonagall countered, her eyes flashing again. Then, raising her eyebrows, she added, "A fact of which I will be sure to remind any of the governors that see an issue with it."
"There are other obstacles," commented Sprout. "His lack of experience in leadership… and, for that matter, his subject of teaching is seen as… well, I don't want to say 'useless', but even you have to admit, the applicability is somewhat…lacking. To say nothing of-"
"He's more than a capable wizard. The subject he happens to teach presently is an almost comically minor issue in the grand scheme of things. If I didn't know any better, Pomona, I'd think you had a problem with him as well," McGonagall said.
Sprout frowned. "I'm just worried how the public will react."
"He's the best option," McGonagall said. "Anyone objective will see that. At least, that's my hope."
Sprout's face turned down into a grimace. "He'll have a difficult job ahead of him."
"It's difficult to guide people somewhere they're reluctant to go. Take it from someone that's tried," McGonagall answered reassuringly. With the slightest of smiles, she then declared, "I think this lot's ready."
Pomona Sprout took out her wand and pointed at her mug of tea, which had gone cold. Once it began to steam again, she took a small sip.
"I hope you're right, Minerva," she sighed, warming her wrinkled hands around the mug. "I hope you're right."
Several weeks later - Potter House, Ottery St. Catchpole, England
Most of the guests - it felt like there had been a hundred of them - had been sent home. Which was perfectly fine. A social creature James Potter was, but today had made even him a bit tired of people he didn't know well. He'd tried his best to stay alert throughout the afternoon - that or face the wrath of his mother, who had wanted today's festivities to serve as a society debut of sorts for her oldest son.
"You're getting to be about that age now, so it's not a bad idea for some of these people to know your face," she had told him.
James would have had no problem staying well out of the way and letting the guests of honor get all of the attention. His father turned forty later this month, and the milestone of sorts had prompted some rather well-known acquaintances to come calling at the Potter House on this Saturday afternoon in July.
James lost count of how many hands he had shaken that afternoon. He knew his right hand was still throbbing, so there was that. He tried to make sure to have a good, firm handshake for the many men that passed his way. If he was going to have to do this, he at least wanted to do the thing properly and not embarrass himself. He had smartened up for the occasion, wearing his best all-black suit - a gift from his grandfather for his fifteenth birthday. What he had not done, however, even at his mother's suggestion, was trim his dark brown hair, which was well-combed but swept back and down nearly to his shoulders.
Biting his lip, James tried to remember the names of all the people he had met…
The Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt - a tall, broad-shouldered, bald man with dark skin, a graying beard, and a voice like approaching thunder that sounded like it was made to give orders. James was a bit jealous of it. He sounded like some sort of god or something - like you could be looking up at the blue sky above, and if he said to you that it was bright yellow, you would believe him.
Then there was the manager of the Appleby Arrows, Mr. Wood. He had brought his wife (Kathy or something? James couldn't remember, but apparently his dad had known her for a while as well) and their two daughters. The older one James actually knew - she'd started at Hogwarts and made Gryffindor's Quidditch team last year. The younger one was named (or at least initialled) D.K., a ten-year-old due to turn eleven in August, and start Hogwarts in September.
There'd been an older bloke in a crisp suit and tie that was the bank manager for Gringotts - at least in name. Truth was, the goblins were in charge over there - a fact this man readily admitted with a good-natured chuckle.
A few of the faces had been familiar - Hagrid had appeared early, shaken James's whole forearm, and dropped the news that he had retired as Care of Magical Creatures Professor at Hogwarts. (This was much to the disappointment of James's cousin, Hugo, who knew Hagrid and had been looking forward to taking this class with him.)
"Yeah, the new Headmaster an' I talked, an' we both reckoned it was gettin' ter be abou' time… I'm a'right with it, hones'ly… got a good twenty-five years in, or close. More 'n a lot o' teachers manage."
Fortunately, Hagrid was still to keep his job as gamekeeper, so he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.
To James's great surprise (and his sister Lily's great delight), the Scamanders showed up as well. Somewhat hilariously, while Luna (wearing a searingly bright orange dress, which was apparently a lucky color for birthdays, according to her) knew this party to be at least a somewhat formal affair, she had either failed to tell her husband, or he had simply ignored her. He showed up wearing a short-sleeved shirt and khaki-colored pants that were full of several bulging pockets. From what his father had told him of Rolf Scamander, James wouldn't have been too surprised if the man had smuggled some sort of small fauna into the party in those pockets. Mr. Scamander wasn't young; his hair (even longer than James's own) was nearly all silver, and James's parents had mentioned that he was several years older than Luna, who was about their age. That said, he was powerfully built - a fact his casual, arm-baring outfit did little to hide. The Scamanders had brought their two young identical twin sons as well. Both had inherited their mother's dirty-blond hair and big eyes - and neither seemed to have had their hair cut in the six-or-so years they had been on this earth, as both were sporting wavy manes down to the middle of their backs.
A tall, glinty-eyed man of about fifty and his teenage daughter were next to appear. James recognized William Dowell Paxton (the man introduced himself with his full name) immediately, but would not have recognized his daughter at all if she had not been standing with him. Serra's normally blonde hair had been dyed dark brown, and her greeting for James was formal, if not frosty, for two people that had known each other some three years or so. The Paxtons did not stay long - Mr. Paxton shared a five-minute helping of small talk with James's parents (James and Serra basically exchanged awkward glances and didn't speak at all during this time span), said he had another engagement, and Disapparated with his daughter, hand-in-hand.
One family showed up a bit late, but their arrival put a big smile on James's face. The Longbottoms appeared around four (Dean Thomas and Luna Scamander greeted them enthusiastically). Neville's wife, Hannah, apologized to James's parents profusely, explaining that they were unable to find anyone to look after Ally. 'Ally' was Alice Augusta Longbottom, the eleven-month-old in Hannah's arms. Luna, James' mum, and Lily all got the opportunity to swoon over the chubby, cute little infant, who had big, blue eyes and blonde hair, and have a good-natured debate with her parents over which of them she looked most like.
There were several other guests too, far less memorable. James wasn't entirely sure they had all been invited, either.
The evening, though, was a time for family and the closest of friends only. Harry Potter had a few close friends and a number of in-laws, so this still left the second leg of the party quite well attended.
James observed the dining hall from the seat he had next to Albus - one of two at the head of the table. Normally James's grandparents sat there for family gatherings, but they had ceded the chairs to Albus and his father today; not only was Harry Potter turning forty at the end of the month, but Albus had turned fourteen about two weeks previously, and the family thought it wouldn't be a terrible idea to just have both parties at once. James had heard that cake and food were on their way soon - but he was starting to get restless here at the table.
"Heyyyy, Albus," Lily called. She was sitting to James's left, while Albus was at the head of the table, staring at something or other. "Whatcha lookin' at?"
"Huh? What?" stammered Albus, turning his green eyes on his sister. He bit his lip. "Looking - where?"
"You were staring at…" Lily turned her head in the direction Albus had been staring. She paused for a second - then a knowing, almost devious smile creased her lips. "Ohhhhh. I know what it was."
"What are you talking about?" asked Albus, sounding flummoxed. Lily simply raised her eyebrows - almost exactly the way their mother did when she could tell that her husband or children were trying to keep a secret from her. It was almost uncanny. James had seen some pictures recently of his mother as a girl of about twelve or thirteen, and Lily at the same age was nearly indistinguishable - same mane of ginger hair (tamed and pulled back into a long braid today), same bright, brown eyes.
James, with a bored sigh, finally pushed himself to his feet. His stomach grumbled in protest. It was pushing six o'clock, and James had been too busy running around and shaking hands to get lunch.
"Don't wander too far," Lily advised him casually. "You know Mum's going to kick your arse if you're not here when they bring the cake."
"I know, I know…" sighed James. "I just gotta go… stretch my legs for a little bit."
And he departed, starting down the long table.
"Hey, Hugo," he said languidly, ruffling the curls atop his little cousin's head as he passed by.
"Geroff," Hugo groused, scowling at having the few curls he had left undisturbed; he'd had a haircut forced on him by his mother about a week ago and wasn't best pleased about it.
"Hey, James." James stopped. Peering around the side of one of the high-backed chairs was another cousin, Louis. "...So, who was the brown-haired girl I saw earlier? She's in your year at school, right?"
"Oh, you mean Serra?" James guessed, unable to think of anyone else. "Yeah. She's in Ravenclaw."
"Really?" Louis, who was also in Ravenclaw, queried incredulously. "That's weird - I don't think I've ever seen her. She's pretty…. You don't think she's pretty?"
Louis was a bit younger than James or Albus - not quite fourteen yet - but already seemed to enjoy the company of pretty girls. Or, at least, looking at them from a fairly safe distance.
James just raised his eyebrows and sighed. "If you say so…"
"You're not gonna get a straight answer out of James, Lou. He's off the market," a young man's voice remarked. Teal-haired Teddy Lupin poked his head out three chairs down. Teddy wasn't blood-related to James, but was as good as family. James's father was Teddy's godfather, and Teddy had been dating Louis's oldest sister, Victoire (currently away from the table) for what felt like forever now. "Which reminds me - did she not show up?"
"For what? It's not my birthday. Besides, they're on holiday," explained James. "Brynne's aunt just got married."
Brynne had explained this in a letter that she'd had the sense to send by owl to James's grandparents, which was a good thing on a number of levels. First off, as Head of the Auror Office, the security around the home of Harry Potter was so tight that getting a letter to him was ridiculously inconvenient at best, impossible at worst. Second, it had saved James the embarrassment of explaining to his family over breakfast exactly why he was getting a love letter from his girlfriend packaged with a picture of her in a white dress (she had been her aunt's maid of honor at the wedding, which had been a tiny, private affair).
"That so?" asked Teddy languidly, leaning back into his seat and smirking. James figured Teddy would spend most of the summer taking the mickey out of him for having a girlfriend. Fortunately, Teddy had walked into a trap, and James knew just how to end this conversation.
"Yep," he said. "Speaking of which…"
Teddy responded with a toneless grunt, turning his head away from him pointedly as his turquoise hair flashed red along with his face for a brief second. A giggle came from closer to James - Louis' other sister, Dominique, was laughing at Teddy. Teddy had been seeing Victoire for so long that not a visit from him to a Potter or Weasley went by without someone asking, if only wordlessly, what the blue hell was taking him so long to propose to her.
Satisfied that he had embarrassed Teddy into silence, James moved on. A handful of steps and a couple of chairs later, a more mature adult voice called him.
"James."
James walked up to stand alongside the chair of the speaker - one of his many red-haired uncles.
"Hey, Uncle George."
"You seen Freddy anywhere?" Uncle George queried.
"I told you, he's right over there, talking to Dean's daughter," Angelina, Uncle George's wife, pointed to a spot opposite at the table, where a tall, tan-skinned boy with thick, brown locks tied back behind his head was conversing with a younger teenage girl. James could only imagine that the conversation had something to do with Quidditch. Freddy had been Captain of the Gryffindor team last year and, in all likelihood, was going to continue his post this term. It would have been a bit hard to tell by looking at her today, with her dark, curly hair down and a violet dress, but Sylvia Thomas, who was in Albus's year and a friend of his, was also a Chaser for the Gryffindor team, and a very good one.
"Say what?" Uncle George asked, suddenly raising his voice and pulling his longish hair back from his face, revealing a gnarled shape with a hole in the middle. "This ear doesn't work too - OW!"
Aunt Angelina had sharply rapped her husband on the back of the head with her palm - almost like one would discipline a misbehaving child. "That stopped being funny fifteen years ago."
"Could you tell him to grab another Ogden's for me?" Uncle George requested to James. At this, Aunt Angelina sighed.
"George! The food's not even out here yet," she scolded him. "Can you pace yourself? You remember what happened last Christmas, right?"
"No," Uncle George replied, sounding a bit abashed.
"Exactly my point," she answered rather flatly. James had to fight down a laugh. "While you're over there, James, could you tell Freddy he needs to lay off until the food comes, too?"
"Sure," James agreed - although, secretly, he was a bit curious what Freddy would be like with a few firewhiskies in him. Freddy had turned seventeen at the beginning of the year, and was now old enough to buy and drink some of the stronger beverages the Leaky Cauldron and other wizarding pubs had to offer. James had also found out (by way of him successfully performing the act right behind James and nearly giving him a heart attack) that Freddy had passed his Apparition test over the summer. Roxanne, his twin (where had she gotten off to?) had failed just barely, leaving a few tufts of her voluminous cloud of black hair behind. But she was due to take the test again before they both went back to Hogwarts for their last year.
James never made it to do what his aunt asked, though, because at that moment he saw his grandmother and parents enter the hall. His grandmother and mum, wands out, were tandem-levitating a large, white-frosted and delicious-looking cake. His father, meanwhile, was carrying an unassuming-looking box by hand. He'd mentioned he had a 'special' gift for Albus besides the ones he and Mum had already given him on the first of the month. James figured that the box must have contained whatever this 'special' gift was.
Then James's mum caught his eye. Grimacing, James beat a quick path back to his seat between his siblings, where he found Albus still staring blankly ahead and Lily not-so-subtly licking her lips.
"Mum's going to torture us and make us wait until dinner's done, isn't she?" Lily asked.
"Probably," James reasoned. Lily's face fell.
"I wonder what's in the box?" she queried. James shrugged.
"Something for Al, probably," he postulated.
"I guessed that," snarked Lily, rolling her brown eyes. Then, turning her brown eyes on Albus, she asked him instead, "What do you think's in the box, Al? ….Al? A-a-a-a-alllllll….?"
But Albus was staring still. James tried to follow his eyes. Where James thought his brother was looking, Freddy and Sylvia Thomas were still speaking. Freddy nodded, flashed the girl a smile, and then disappeared with a CRACK that was still barely audible over the crowd murmur.
"Ooooohhhhh, cake!"
Two little girls in dresses ran into the hall - Uncle Percy's daughters. James had been a bit surprised he and his family had shown up. To his chagrin, he'd had to shake Uncle Percy's hand in the same way he'd done with all the other big wigs that had paraded past the Potters that afternoon. To his credit, Uncle Percy did advise him that O.W.L.s in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts would be enough to get him in on the ground floor at the Department of Magical Transportation, where Uncle Percy worked. Meanwhile, Freddy CRACKed back into sight on the other side of the table near his parents, only to have his arm yanked by his mother. Uncle George was behind her head, trying not to laugh.
"Al, what are you looking at?" asked James, still following his eyes to where Sylvia and her father were now seated and conversing. James wasn't sure if Sylvia had somehow felt the strength of Albus's stare from a distance or just happened to look their way in that moment, but she grinned and flashed a weak wave in their general direction.
"Leave him alone," Lily insisted, smiling.
Albus shook his head. "Sorry, what?"
Lily sniggered. Albus glared at her.
"I was just saying," lied James, "it's a shame the Longbottoms and Scamanders couldn't hang around."
"Yeah…" mused Albus distractedly. Glancing at James at last, he added, "I wonder what Mr. Scamander meant when he said he'd be seeing us soon? He's not even going to be in the country in a few weeks, is he?"
James shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. That was my first time seeing him in… uh, about two years? Maybe a little more? The boys really grew up. What are their names again? 'L'-something…"
"Lorcan and Lysander," Lily, who was rather closer with the Scamanders than her brothers were, chimed in.
"So which one's Lorcan and which one's Lysander?" Albus asked, leaning toward his sister a bit. This was a good question. The two boys were twins, identical as identical could be - right down to their parents typically dressing them in the same outfits. James was sure their mother knew them apart, because mothers always know - but she may have been the only one that did.
"I still haven't figured that out, actually…" Lily admitted.
Their conversation was finally ended by the magically amplified voice of their mother. "Alright, everybody get their seats so we can cut this cake!"
The large sheet cake was laid right in front of them. Lily stared at it hungrily but a knowing look from her mother prompted her to contain herself. The cake, which had candles that had not been lit yet, had been decorated with green icing - "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" - and featured two black-haired, green-eyed, very similar-looking faces at its center. Albus saw his own face staring back at him and sighed, burying his own actual face into his palm. He never did much like being the center of attention…
Parties were fun, but James had to admit at about nine that night, when everyone had returned home, that he was rather welcoming of the quiet. In fact, he had caught himself about to doze off, when a shout of his name jolted him back to alertness.
"Yeah?" he shouted back, hoping the mild annoyance wasn't too audible in his voice - it had been his mother that had called him, and she was very tired and probably not in the mood for anything resembling cheek that evening. That said, he wasn't sure she had heard him, so he jumped off his bed and ran to the hallway. "Mum?"
His mother, already wearing a nightgown, was standing in the threshold of her and Dad's room at the end of the hall. "Could you go collect your brother and sister - make sure they haven't wandered off too far?"
James frowned. "Sending us to bed this early?"
"No, but I'm going - I'm knackered," his mother said - and she looked it. "And I'd sleep a lot better knowing you three were at least near the house."
James nodded. "No problem."
"Don't bother us, by the way," his mother added. "Not unless someone's dying."
And she closed the door. James could have sworn he heard the door hum for a moment, but paid it no mind. He started down the staircase, sure that Albus and Lily could not have possibly gone that far. If anything, they were still hanging out over at their grandparents'. They weren't the type to go adventuring-
Well, scratch that. Lily was totally the type to go adventuring, and Albus, now that he had that…
But as he emerged onto the porch, he saw Albus already, leaning over the railing and gazing out at the sky. The moon was very nearly full tonight, and a brilliant silver-white.
"Hey, Al," James called. Albus must have been deep in thought, because he jumped as if startled, and put his hand to his chest.
"God - don't scare me like that," he breathed. James scoffed. "You almost gave me a heart attack."
"You're not that old," James replied, reaching his hand up to ruffle his little brother's hair.
"Hey…" Albus groaned in protest, half-jokingly taking a swing at James, who danced out of the way. "Stay off the hair."
"What's wrong?" Lily's voice queried. Albus and James both jumped this time, and turned around, to find their little sister standing there.
"Where did you -?" Albus started, but Lily held a silky, silvery cloth of sorts up. Albus promptly snatched it from his sister, who glared at him, offended by the sudden show of force. "You're not supposed to have that, Lily. It's mine."
"Well, I borrow the rest of your stuff," Lily reasoned.
"Yeah, but this is - it's different. There's only one of these," Albus replied, folding up the cloak that had been his fourteenth birthday present, and tucking it under his arm. "At least, that's what Dad says."
James had protested Albus receiving what they knew to be a priceless treasure that had been in the family for hundreds of years. His father reminded him that he had chosen his family heirloom a couple of years ago by taking the Marauder's Map out of his office desk. A younger, less mature James would have argued the point; but one of the many things he had found out about himself recently was that the subtlety of an Invisibility Cloak wasn't his style. If he had to pick one, he'd much rather have the map. He was named after two of its makers, so it was probably meant to be or something. Besides, Albus would probably let either of them borrow the cloak if they asked nicely.
"I'm not going to mess it up or anything," groused Lily. "Quit treating me like such a little kid."
"I'm more worried you'll sneak off somewhere and get yourself into some sort of trouble," Albus retorted.
"I don't -" Lily protested, but Albus cut her off.
"We're Potters, Lily. Trouble always finds us."
James and Lily joined in chorus, and all three siblings said the same four words at the same time. They exchanged glances. Lily broke first, and then everyone was laughing. Laughing was good - last year, thought James, had held far too little laughter. He hoped this coming year would be a bit better.
"It's too bad Scorpius couldn't be here," Lily commented offhandedly, once all of them had stopped laughing to give their aching ribs a rest.
"Why's that?" James asked.
Lily seemed to pull up short, but then (notably not meeting James's eye) pointed out, "Scorpius is Albus's best friend - he'd want to be here for his birthday party, don't you think?"
Albus sighed. Clearly, the same thing had crossed his mind at least once that day. "Scorpius is also a Malfoy, and they're not the most popular wizards in Britain."
Only because he knew Albus wouldn't appreciate it, was James able to hold in a chuckle at this statement. It was accurate - in the same way that saying Hagrid, who was half-giant and about twice the height of most grown men, wasn't the smallest wizard in Britain.
"Yes, I get it," Lily replied impatiently, folding her arms. "I think it's bloody stupid - but I get it. He, uh… is coming back to Hogwarts in the fall, right?"
"Never told me he wasn't," Albus answered.
Lily approached at Albus's left, leaning over the porch railing as well.
"We've got six weeks until we go back," she said. "I'm kind of ready to go now, honestly."
"Speak for yourself," Albus chuckled. "My head hasn't stopped spinning from final exams last month. Speaking of which… this is your O.W.L. year, isn't it, James?"
James groaned. "Don't remind me." James was starting his fifth year at Hogwarts in September - a year that was notorious for a difficulty spike in nearly all courses, and typically ended with the comprehensive set of examinations known as Ordinary Wizarding Levels. James wasn't a terrible student by any stretch, but that didn't mean he liked tests. He was especially dreading History of Magic, which was taught by a painfully boring ghost teacher who was also a meticulous, even merciless, grader. He also wasn't looking forward much to Transfiguration. The new teacher, Professor V.J. Crawford, had been hired halfway through last term to teach Charms, and was a bit of a hard-arse in James's opinion. Ancient Runes, which had been his favorite class, was also to have another instructor - some bloke with a hard-to-pronounce name that James's parents vaguely knew from their school years.
All that said, it would be nice to be allowed to do magic again. The closer he edged to the wizarding age of adulthood at seventeen, the more spells he learned, and the more spells he learned, the less reasonable the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery felt. James wondered, for a wild moment, if he could somehow rally enough of his fellow fifth years and maybe a few sixth years to bombard the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with enough owls to convince her to at least relax the restriction on fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds. That had been a burgeoning movement, although still spearheaded by a vocal minority. Maybe if he could somehow sell his mother on the fact that he'd be (marginally) more help around the house with a wand in his hand….
"I know both of you are looking forward to seeing your girlfriends again," teased Lily.
James could do nothing but smirk - Lily had him on that one. James was looking forward to spending more time with Brynne this year (when he wasn't studying for these bloody O.W.L. exams) after circumstances had made it fairly difficult in the previous term...
"What are you talking about?" Albus squawked. "I don't have a girlfriend."
Lily raised her eyebrows, but then her attention was pulled away from her brothers, and to a small sound at or near the screen door.
"Fiiiiiiiiiii," Lily sang as she traipsed over to the screen door, opened it, and lifted into her arms a cat as ginger as her hair. The cat promptly curled up and began purring contentedly. "Well," Lily said as she rounded on Albus, pausing to stroke Fiamma again and kiss her on top of the head, "You shouldn't stare. It's creepy."
And she went inside, singing some song or another to her cat.
"So nosy," groused Albus, turning back out toward the moon. James chuckled to himself - though, at that point, he couldn't help but notice that Albus looked a bit sad. James wanted to ask, but he didn't. After Albus glanced at him a couple of times, maybe he could read the unspoken question on James's face, because he then looked straight ahead and said, at a mutter, "...Rose didn't come."
James frowned. Rose was another one of their cousins, but she had been closer to the Potters than the rest - she and her brother, Hugo, used to come over several times a week before everyone started school at Hogwarts, and Albus and Rose had basically been joined at the hip since infancy. Last year, though, a few things had happened, Rose had changed, and it had created something of a rift between her and everyone else.
"Well, have you talked to her at all this summer?" James asked.
"Well, no, but -" Albus trailed off. He sighed morosely. "She's still family. If she was the one having the birthday party, I would've been there."
"That's because you're a good person," James pointed out - but this didn't make Albus feel any better.
"Are you saying Rose isn't?" he replied, a bit hotly. But then, his head dropped. "You might be right. Ever since… ever since last year… she hasn't been the same."
Silence.
After a few moments, Albus stood up straight. "Say, James...uh, how… how did…?"
He trailed off again. "What?" James asked his brother - but Albus shook his head.
"Never mind. Nothing," he muttered, starting for the front door. Opening it, he held it for a second and asked, "You coming?"
"A couple more minutes," James refused politely. Albus gave a smile, and then walked inside, closing the door behind him.
James stared up at the moon for a while longer, wondering if Brynne could see it nearly as well in Cardiff, and wondering if she was looking forward to going back to Hogwarts and them being together again as much as he was…
Probably more, James thought, smiling to himself. She hasn't got any O.W.L.s to take in fourth year…