(Note from the author: These are not my characters, my world, or my
situations. They all belong to J. K. Rowling, and are protected by
copyrights.)
(Note for readers under 13: Again, it's PG-13. Don't worry. It'll lighten up soon . . . Someone's getting married . . .)
James had never been to Azkaban before. He had never wanted to go. He had heard horror stories from his father, when Mr. Potter had to go there for work and take reports on the inmates. His father always came back looking like a ghost, and holding Mrs. Potter and James closely to his chest, crying.
Dementors were the worst sort of demons imaginable. They looked like grim reapers, with their silvery fingers protruding from their long black robes, and their unseen faces, staring down on their victims. Wanting their souls.
Frank had decided to accompany him to the watery entrance of the prison. It was flanked by the ghosts of death, all dressed in black, and staring into the heart and mind of the humans that entered the moat underneath the prison.
It was a small wooden boat, flanked by Azkaban guards, all shaking and forever white, destroyed by their colleagues. Their bony fingers rowed the oars as they crossed under the large island that housed the prison. The prison was black, and was outlined by the sudden flashes of lightning from clouds miles away. They passed into darkness, and James looked at the rocky ceiling above them, the water reflecting its ripples on the stalactites. It was eerie, and very quiet as Frank took a shallow breath, and then drew closer to James.
"When we get up here," he said, "I'll let you off to the main guard. You go in, I'll wait here. Make it quick. I hate this place."
"It feels like someone died in here," James commented, and Frank nodded.
"More than one person never gets out of Azkaban alive," he said, "When they get put in this place, they give themselves two months to live. Some of them go crazy. Some of them kill themselves. And others . . ." he shivered, and then said, "And other end up worse."
The dementors came into view, four of them flocking the one entrance way to the prison above. In the midst of them stood a cold, stone faced man, that was chewing some sort of ice between his gold capped teeth. He gave James a deadly look as the boy mounted the dock, and Frank wished him good luck.
"Remember, make it quick," he said, "And don't try too hard to take notes. We can use a Pensieve when we get back. Just make sure to get information."
"All right," James said, his breath coming out in a wispy cloud in front of him. It was so cold.
"You the Potter boy?" the man with the gold teeth asked, and James nodded. But he couldn't take his eyes off of the dementors. The one to the left had grown closer to him, and was staring right at him from underneath the hood. Staring . . .
The image of Moony in the room, almost dead . . .
He blinked, and shook his head. The man laughed, and then said, "Don't you worry about them. They know who's off limits and who's fresh meat. They shouldn't be botherin' you too much now. Toddles's got a pretty good grip on these creatures. Which is sayin' somethin'."
James felt his knees buckle, and he felt all happiness drain out of him. A cold feeling came over him, and he felt sick. He looked down at his hand. It was shaking.
He tried to steady it as the two of them made their way up the stone stairs to the prison above, and through a darkened corridor that was glowing with the cob webbed torches floating in mid air. The man with the gold teeth chewed away at his ice, and grabbed one of the torches.
"Follow me," he instructed, as if James had any other choice. His hand was still shaking as he touched the walls. They were so cold.
He could hear the violent sea outside, crashing up against the jagged rocks that created the base for this island. A storm was coming.
Above them, the haunted screams of the prisoners echoed through the stone walls. Hundreds of voices, howling and cursing and pleading with their captors. But the captors never responded.
James swallowed hard as they stepped out of the stairwell, and onto the main floor of the prison. It was larger now, the corridor. But they were now flanked by hundreds of cells, each one with a barred doorframe, and guarded by a dementor.
His hand shook harder, and he felt a bead of sweat fall onto his face. The image of Moony was back.
His parents, laying there on the bed . . .
He would never be happy again. His lip trembled, and the man with the gold teeth smiled slyly.
"First time?" he asked.
James nodded, still eyeing the closest dementor.
"OH GOD!" a man, not much older than James screamed from his cell. James looked over to see the prisoner, and his eyes grew wide.
The man was laying on the ground, clawing at his head, kicking his legs out in every direction.
"GOD! NO! DON'T KILL HER! GOD! NO!"
"Take mercy, please," a low, raspy voice sounded from the cell next to the young man, as James and his liaison passed it. The woman was rocking herself in the corner, staring maddened out into the air in front of her. Her knees were to her chin, and she hugged them as she mumbled to herself, "Lord who art in Heaven . . ."
"This is our main floor," the man with gold teeth told James, "Most of these prisoners are harmless, and will be leaving soon enough. They're the lucky ones. It's the ones up a level that you need to feel sorry for. Or be scared of, whichever one."
"Why?" James said, trying to erase the images that were running through his mind. Frank had given him a chocolate bar, and told him to save it until he couldn't take anymore of it. He was losing his sanity quickly. How could this man in front of him stand it?
"They're the real dead ones," he said, "Death row, is like it. Either in here for life, or in here for a kiss. Your friend's gonna be getting his kiss tonight, ya know."
"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"
"Bernard!" a shrill voice came from his left.
A bony and pale hand grabbed James around the arm, and tugged him to the bars on the door. His face hit the cold steel, and he looked in horror at an older lady, staring hopefully at him.
"I knew you would come for me! I knew you wouldn't leave me here!"
A shadow crossed over both of them, and James felt all good thoughts that he had left diminish in a matter of seconds. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the woman, who was also looking very shocked.
Her face turned into his mother's.
His mother's wide-eyed expression.
Laying on the bed . . .
Next to his father . . .
Sirius dead.
Remus dead.
Lily dead.
Peter dead.
Just like Elise . . .
"Potter!"
James opened his eyes, and looked up into the face of the guard, still chewing on his ice. He held the torch above him.
James was flat on the ground, shaking with fear. His teeth chattered as the guard helped him to his feet, and he nervously looked around, all of his nerves on end. The dementor was now closing in on the woman who had gotten out of hand, and she was screaming for Bernard.
"They calm down after a few days," the guard said, "Don' min' them."
James thrust his hand into his pocket, and brought out the chocolate bar. He devoured it in two bites, and a small comfort came back to him. He forced a smile onto his face as he and the man continued through the corridor.
And then they were up another staircase. When they reached the second level, the man extinguished the torch, and left it on the floor as they entered. It was dark, the hall's light a mix of blue and green. A large black arch stood at the end of the hallway, and smaller cells, more spread out, stood in rows on either side of them.
There weren't as many screams here. They were almost all silent, staring into space, balled up in a corner. Some of them could have been taken as dead if it hadn't been for their steady breathing. Two dementors were positioned at each door, and James felt the chocolate slowly wearing off.
"Yer fella's going to be in this one," the guard said, taking out his wand, "Make it quick. His name's Jack Williams."
Jack Williams was one of the prisoners that were screaming. They had only brought him in that morning and James saw him through the thick steel bars as the guard opened the door for him. The man shooed the dementors farther away from the door so James could safely enter, and then shut the bars behind him.
"Enjoy," he said, and James looked in horror at the man in front of him.
Williams was his age, he could tell. He looked much older, but he could perfectly well have been in his class last year. Not that he was, but he could have been. How could someone so young be so evil? His blonde hair fell into his face, and his blue eyes were bloodshot as he clawed at his head. He may have been not bad looking, if it hadn't been for the fact that half of his face was scarred terribly. He was standing in the corner, screaming out names and dates and places that he couldn't quite recognize. Maybe they were in a different language . . .
"Get out of here," the man said outside, shoving the dementors away from the door. The room lightened, and James felt some sort of good feeling come back into his mind. So did Williams.
The boy stared at James, as if he had just realized he was there, and then he scrambled closer to the wall.
"You're one of them!" he cried, "You're one of them outside! You've come to kill me! You . . ."
"Are you Jack Williams?" James asked, trying to keep his voice calm. It wasn't working, though. He had thought that Williams would have been larger, older . . . like Dolohov or Karkaroff.
"W-who are you?" the boy asked, his eyes like saucers. He looked like a scared little puppy. How could this person have killed his parents? They must have gotten the wrong man . . .
"I'm James Potter," James said, and then saw a stool sitting in the corner. He took it, and sat. He folded his hands, trying to stop them from shaking. He hadn't succeeded before, and he didn't succeed now, "I work for Albus Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore?" Williams's face brightened, and he fell to the ground, his hands clasped together, "Oh, thank you! You've come to get me a trial, haven't you? You've come to get me off!"
"No," James said truthfully, "You wanted to speak with me."
Jack thought for a moment and then a look of realization came onto his face, "Oh, yes! I did! James Potter! I didn't quite catch your name . . . I . . . I wanted to see you before those things killed me off . . . I . . ."
"I have to make this quick," James said, "If you have something to say, say it now."
"Well, you are the boy who's parents I killed, right?"
James's face hardened. So it had been him. And he had wanted to show his face to him? What sort of monster was this?
"Yes," he glared at him, and Williams retreated back into his corner.
"I w-wanted to apologize . . ."
"Apologize?" James retorted, "APOLOGIZE?"
Every bit of composure that he had had shifted out of sight, and if James hadn't known that he was in Azkaban, and they could very well keep him there, he would have reached out and killed this Williams man.
"I . . . I remember that day," Williams continued on, calming down a bit, but still wincing as if he thought James was going to lash out and hit him, "I . . . I remember every single day. Clear as rain. But . . . but I wasn't there, you see . . . they had me . . . they had me under their curse . . ."
James's face softened, and he felt the hate subside, "What?"
"The Imperius Curse," Williams said, "I . . . I felt myself say the words, kill them . . . but . . . I . . . I didn't do it. I mean, I did it, but . . ."
The night at Dolohov's came back. James sneering at Remus, saying those horrible things. And there hadn't been anything that he could have done about it. Williams had been the same way. The murderer of his parents had been the same way.
But how could that be? The murderer was supposed to be like Karkaroff and Voldemort . . . not a boy . . . not . . . not him.
James looked in confusion at Williams, and Williams looked like he was going to cry with happiness, "You believe me, don't you? You believe me! I have my own mum and dad . . . and I don't know what would happen if they were killed the way that yours were . . ."
"Shut up," James said coldly, and Williams recoiled.
"I'll tell you anything that you need to know," he offered, his voice becoming stronger, "I know that's why you came here. I'll give you names. All the names you need. I'll tell you about the giants, the new recruits, the Muggle killings . . ."
"Recruits?" James said, "You know who the recruits are?"
"Yes! All of them!" Jack jumped, "I know every one of them! They're powerful, they are. And they're getting younger and younger. The Dark Lord believes that the future resides in our generation's heart. Even younger. He is entrusting in children, James Potter. He isn't recruiting full grown men and women anymore. He has his share of them in the ranks, but he wants fresh meat. I would know."
"Who are they?" James asked.
Jack came closer and then said in a whispering voice, "There is a thirteen year old girl and two boys that are not much older who he's taken out of school. Took under his wing, sort of. Don't know the girl's name. Never heard it. But the boy's name is Rodolphus. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. The girl's the youngest. Not in the ranks yet, but they will be. The nastiest children you ever met. And then there are others. But those hit me hard, because he's never taken anyone that young before. They're getting younger and younger. And he's started to try to recruit children under the age of sixteen, so he'll have a whole new army when the time comes. Even children from Hogwarts."
James felt his mouth drop open and then shut it.
"It's our war now, James Potter," Williams said, all fear gone from his voice. The dementor's presence had worn off, "Remember that. It's our war now."
"Think you could have stayed a little longer?" Frank grumbled, as James weakly got back into the boat. He had just left an innocent man to suffer. But he couldn't do anything.
"Hopefully see you later, Longbottom," the man with the gold teeth said, before disappearing back into the shadows of the stairwell. Frank made a disgusted face, and then ordered the deadened rowers to start their way out.
The night sky hit them as their boat rocked with the choppy waters. It was a breath of fresh air, and the foreboding feeling left James, and he could smile again.
But the stench of Azkaban still resided in his nostrils.
Lily had been sitting patiently with her family, waiting for James to return. It had been a good full two hours, and now she was starting to get worried. She didn't think it would take this long to quickly rush over and say a few choice words to the prisoner. But she kept her mouth shut, in fear that her parents were having the same thoughts.
It was nine o' clock on Christmas night that James finally appeared from the fireplace in a pile of ash and smoke, and stood up to face the Evans family, all sitting on the couch, waiting for him to return.
Mr. Evans and Mrs. Evans were taken by surprise at this trick, and complimented on its dramatics. Petunia just stared him down as he got to his feet, brushing the dust off of his knickers. He didn't reply to anything that the Evans's said to him, and quickly grabbed Lily. His lower lip was trembling, and he rushed up the stairs, and through the hallway.
"What is it, James?" Lily asked, as James found Lily's room, and shut the door behind them as they entered. James looked shaken, and he took Lily by both of her shoulders and gave her a long kiss. She stared at him as he broke away, and then fell on the bed.
"James, are you feeling all right?" she whispered, coming to sit next to him.
And then, he burst into tears. It was the first time that Lily had ever seen him cry. It was the second time in his life that he had ever let anyone see him. She looked taken aback as she put an arm around him, and patted him quietly.
"Shh," she said, "What happened?"
"I'm never going back there again," he cried, wiping his brow free from sweat, "It was a nightmare. All I could see was them. And you. And Remus. And Sirius. And Peter. All of you dead. All of you in front of Voldemort . . . And . . . and I couldn't remember anything worth remembering . . . It was horrible . . . Those dementors . . ."
"Take a breath, all right?" Lily said, "We're all perfectly fine. We're all here, alive. Okay? Look at me, James. It's fine."
"He was just a kid," James sobbed, "He was as old as me! He said that Voldemort's getting people younger than us to go out and fight . . . God, Lily . . . what happened to our world? One of them's only thirteen . . ."
"Who was just a kid?" Lily asked.
"Jack Williams," James said, "Jack Williams was just a kid. And now he's . . . now he's . . ."
"He killed your parents, James."
"But . . . he was so young! They're all so . . ."
And then he was off in more tears, unable to talk. Lily didn't feel comfortable seeing him like this. He was scaring her.
"When you get around those things," he said, trying to pull himself together, "It's like . . . I felt like I would never be happy again. I felt like the world was ending. God, I've never felt like that before. No hope left, and just . . . just pure fear, Lily. Just . . . just pure fear."
"But you're home now," she said, pushing his hair out of his face, "And we're happy and alive. We're going to be married soon."
"I saw Elise again," he muttered, and Lily's face lost all color.
"Come on, James," she said, "Please don't do this. Please. It's Christmas."
"I love you, Lily," James said, lunging to embrace her. Lily uncomfortably returned his hug, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She rubbed his back as they sat there, trying not to cry again.
A knock came from the door.
"Mother wants to know if you two still want your trifle," Petunia's voice came.
How long had she been standing there?
From the look on her face, she had been there for a good long time, because her face was as white as Lily's when they opened the door. She was staring at James, who was trying to dry his face off before heading back downstairs.
With control in his voice, he said, "Sure. We'd love some trifle," and then walked back downstairs to Lily's parents.
Lily started after him, but Petunia tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around to face her sister.
"I heard you," she said.
"I know," Lily said simply.
"Like he would never be happy again?" Petunia repeated, and then eyed her, "Dementors?"
"Welcome to our world," she said, putting her hair back into place, and then heading down the corridor.
"Is this Voldemort like the dementors?" her sister asked as she reached the stairs.
Lily looked back at her, and then shook her head, "Worse. And he's not just after wizards."
Petunia didn't say a word, but silently followed her sister back downstairs. Her loathing for James returned as she entered the dining room, and saw him laughing again with Lily.
She hated them both.
It was their kind that Voldemort was.
Freaks of nature.
(Note for readers under 13: Again, it's PG-13. Don't worry. It'll lighten up soon . . . Someone's getting married . . .)
James had never been to Azkaban before. He had never wanted to go. He had heard horror stories from his father, when Mr. Potter had to go there for work and take reports on the inmates. His father always came back looking like a ghost, and holding Mrs. Potter and James closely to his chest, crying.
Dementors were the worst sort of demons imaginable. They looked like grim reapers, with their silvery fingers protruding from their long black robes, and their unseen faces, staring down on their victims. Wanting their souls.
Frank had decided to accompany him to the watery entrance of the prison. It was flanked by the ghosts of death, all dressed in black, and staring into the heart and mind of the humans that entered the moat underneath the prison.
It was a small wooden boat, flanked by Azkaban guards, all shaking and forever white, destroyed by their colleagues. Their bony fingers rowed the oars as they crossed under the large island that housed the prison. The prison was black, and was outlined by the sudden flashes of lightning from clouds miles away. They passed into darkness, and James looked at the rocky ceiling above them, the water reflecting its ripples on the stalactites. It was eerie, and very quiet as Frank took a shallow breath, and then drew closer to James.
"When we get up here," he said, "I'll let you off to the main guard. You go in, I'll wait here. Make it quick. I hate this place."
"It feels like someone died in here," James commented, and Frank nodded.
"More than one person never gets out of Azkaban alive," he said, "When they get put in this place, they give themselves two months to live. Some of them go crazy. Some of them kill themselves. And others . . ." he shivered, and then said, "And other end up worse."
The dementors came into view, four of them flocking the one entrance way to the prison above. In the midst of them stood a cold, stone faced man, that was chewing some sort of ice between his gold capped teeth. He gave James a deadly look as the boy mounted the dock, and Frank wished him good luck.
"Remember, make it quick," he said, "And don't try too hard to take notes. We can use a Pensieve when we get back. Just make sure to get information."
"All right," James said, his breath coming out in a wispy cloud in front of him. It was so cold.
"You the Potter boy?" the man with the gold teeth asked, and James nodded. But he couldn't take his eyes off of the dementors. The one to the left had grown closer to him, and was staring right at him from underneath the hood. Staring . . .
The image of Moony in the room, almost dead . . .
He blinked, and shook his head. The man laughed, and then said, "Don't you worry about them. They know who's off limits and who's fresh meat. They shouldn't be botherin' you too much now. Toddles's got a pretty good grip on these creatures. Which is sayin' somethin'."
James felt his knees buckle, and he felt all happiness drain out of him. A cold feeling came over him, and he felt sick. He looked down at his hand. It was shaking.
He tried to steady it as the two of them made their way up the stone stairs to the prison above, and through a darkened corridor that was glowing with the cob webbed torches floating in mid air. The man with the gold teeth chewed away at his ice, and grabbed one of the torches.
"Follow me," he instructed, as if James had any other choice. His hand was still shaking as he touched the walls. They were so cold.
He could hear the violent sea outside, crashing up against the jagged rocks that created the base for this island. A storm was coming.
Above them, the haunted screams of the prisoners echoed through the stone walls. Hundreds of voices, howling and cursing and pleading with their captors. But the captors never responded.
James swallowed hard as they stepped out of the stairwell, and onto the main floor of the prison. It was larger now, the corridor. But they were now flanked by hundreds of cells, each one with a barred doorframe, and guarded by a dementor.
His hand shook harder, and he felt a bead of sweat fall onto his face. The image of Moony was back.
His parents, laying there on the bed . . .
He would never be happy again. His lip trembled, and the man with the gold teeth smiled slyly.
"First time?" he asked.
James nodded, still eyeing the closest dementor.
"OH GOD!" a man, not much older than James screamed from his cell. James looked over to see the prisoner, and his eyes grew wide.
The man was laying on the ground, clawing at his head, kicking his legs out in every direction.
"GOD! NO! DON'T KILL HER! GOD! NO!"
"Take mercy, please," a low, raspy voice sounded from the cell next to the young man, as James and his liaison passed it. The woman was rocking herself in the corner, staring maddened out into the air in front of her. Her knees were to her chin, and she hugged them as she mumbled to herself, "Lord who art in Heaven . . ."
"This is our main floor," the man with gold teeth told James, "Most of these prisoners are harmless, and will be leaving soon enough. They're the lucky ones. It's the ones up a level that you need to feel sorry for. Or be scared of, whichever one."
"Why?" James said, trying to erase the images that were running through his mind. Frank had given him a chocolate bar, and told him to save it until he couldn't take anymore of it. He was losing his sanity quickly. How could this man in front of him stand it?
"They're the real dead ones," he said, "Death row, is like it. Either in here for life, or in here for a kiss. Your friend's gonna be getting his kiss tonight, ya know."
"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"
"Bernard!" a shrill voice came from his left.
A bony and pale hand grabbed James around the arm, and tugged him to the bars on the door. His face hit the cold steel, and he looked in horror at an older lady, staring hopefully at him.
"I knew you would come for me! I knew you wouldn't leave me here!"
A shadow crossed over both of them, and James felt all good thoughts that he had left diminish in a matter of seconds. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the woman, who was also looking very shocked.
Her face turned into his mother's.
His mother's wide-eyed expression.
Laying on the bed . . .
Next to his father . . .
Sirius dead.
Remus dead.
Lily dead.
Peter dead.
Just like Elise . . .
"Potter!"
James opened his eyes, and looked up into the face of the guard, still chewing on his ice. He held the torch above him.
James was flat on the ground, shaking with fear. His teeth chattered as the guard helped him to his feet, and he nervously looked around, all of his nerves on end. The dementor was now closing in on the woman who had gotten out of hand, and she was screaming for Bernard.
"They calm down after a few days," the guard said, "Don' min' them."
James thrust his hand into his pocket, and brought out the chocolate bar. He devoured it in two bites, and a small comfort came back to him. He forced a smile onto his face as he and the man continued through the corridor.
And then they were up another staircase. When they reached the second level, the man extinguished the torch, and left it on the floor as they entered. It was dark, the hall's light a mix of blue and green. A large black arch stood at the end of the hallway, and smaller cells, more spread out, stood in rows on either side of them.
There weren't as many screams here. They were almost all silent, staring into space, balled up in a corner. Some of them could have been taken as dead if it hadn't been for their steady breathing. Two dementors were positioned at each door, and James felt the chocolate slowly wearing off.
"Yer fella's going to be in this one," the guard said, taking out his wand, "Make it quick. His name's Jack Williams."
Jack Williams was one of the prisoners that were screaming. They had only brought him in that morning and James saw him through the thick steel bars as the guard opened the door for him. The man shooed the dementors farther away from the door so James could safely enter, and then shut the bars behind him.
"Enjoy," he said, and James looked in horror at the man in front of him.
Williams was his age, he could tell. He looked much older, but he could perfectly well have been in his class last year. Not that he was, but he could have been. How could someone so young be so evil? His blonde hair fell into his face, and his blue eyes were bloodshot as he clawed at his head. He may have been not bad looking, if it hadn't been for the fact that half of his face was scarred terribly. He was standing in the corner, screaming out names and dates and places that he couldn't quite recognize. Maybe they were in a different language . . .
"Get out of here," the man said outside, shoving the dementors away from the door. The room lightened, and James felt some sort of good feeling come back into his mind. So did Williams.
The boy stared at James, as if he had just realized he was there, and then he scrambled closer to the wall.
"You're one of them!" he cried, "You're one of them outside! You've come to kill me! You . . ."
"Are you Jack Williams?" James asked, trying to keep his voice calm. It wasn't working, though. He had thought that Williams would have been larger, older . . . like Dolohov or Karkaroff.
"W-who are you?" the boy asked, his eyes like saucers. He looked like a scared little puppy. How could this person have killed his parents? They must have gotten the wrong man . . .
"I'm James Potter," James said, and then saw a stool sitting in the corner. He took it, and sat. He folded his hands, trying to stop them from shaking. He hadn't succeeded before, and he didn't succeed now, "I work for Albus Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore?" Williams's face brightened, and he fell to the ground, his hands clasped together, "Oh, thank you! You've come to get me a trial, haven't you? You've come to get me off!"
"No," James said truthfully, "You wanted to speak with me."
Jack thought for a moment and then a look of realization came onto his face, "Oh, yes! I did! James Potter! I didn't quite catch your name . . . I . . . I wanted to see you before those things killed me off . . . I . . ."
"I have to make this quick," James said, "If you have something to say, say it now."
"Well, you are the boy who's parents I killed, right?"
James's face hardened. So it had been him. And he had wanted to show his face to him? What sort of monster was this?
"Yes," he glared at him, and Williams retreated back into his corner.
"I w-wanted to apologize . . ."
"Apologize?" James retorted, "APOLOGIZE?"
Every bit of composure that he had had shifted out of sight, and if James hadn't known that he was in Azkaban, and they could very well keep him there, he would have reached out and killed this Williams man.
"I . . . I remember that day," Williams continued on, calming down a bit, but still wincing as if he thought James was going to lash out and hit him, "I . . . I remember every single day. Clear as rain. But . . . but I wasn't there, you see . . . they had me . . . they had me under their curse . . ."
James's face softened, and he felt the hate subside, "What?"
"The Imperius Curse," Williams said, "I . . . I felt myself say the words, kill them . . . but . . . I . . . I didn't do it. I mean, I did it, but . . ."
The night at Dolohov's came back. James sneering at Remus, saying those horrible things. And there hadn't been anything that he could have done about it. Williams had been the same way. The murderer of his parents had been the same way.
But how could that be? The murderer was supposed to be like Karkaroff and Voldemort . . . not a boy . . . not . . . not him.
James looked in confusion at Williams, and Williams looked like he was going to cry with happiness, "You believe me, don't you? You believe me! I have my own mum and dad . . . and I don't know what would happen if they were killed the way that yours were . . ."
"Shut up," James said coldly, and Williams recoiled.
"I'll tell you anything that you need to know," he offered, his voice becoming stronger, "I know that's why you came here. I'll give you names. All the names you need. I'll tell you about the giants, the new recruits, the Muggle killings . . ."
"Recruits?" James said, "You know who the recruits are?"
"Yes! All of them!" Jack jumped, "I know every one of them! They're powerful, they are. And they're getting younger and younger. The Dark Lord believes that the future resides in our generation's heart. Even younger. He is entrusting in children, James Potter. He isn't recruiting full grown men and women anymore. He has his share of them in the ranks, but he wants fresh meat. I would know."
"Who are they?" James asked.
Jack came closer and then said in a whispering voice, "There is a thirteen year old girl and two boys that are not much older who he's taken out of school. Took under his wing, sort of. Don't know the girl's name. Never heard it. But the boy's name is Rodolphus. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. The girl's the youngest. Not in the ranks yet, but they will be. The nastiest children you ever met. And then there are others. But those hit me hard, because he's never taken anyone that young before. They're getting younger and younger. And he's started to try to recruit children under the age of sixteen, so he'll have a whole new army when the time comes. Even children from Hogwarts."
James felt his mouth drop open and then shut it.
"It's our war now, James Potter," Williams said, all fear gone from his voice. The dementor's presence had worn off, "Remember that. It's our war now."
"Think you could have stayed a little longer?" Frank grumbled, as James weakly got back into the boat. He had just left an innocent man to suffer. But he couldn't do anything.
"Hopefully see you later, Longbottom," the man with the gold teeth said, before disappearing back into the shadows of the stairwell. Frank made a disgusted face, and then ordered the deadened rowers to start their way out.
The night sky hit them as their boat rocked with the choppy waters. It was a breath of fresh air, and the foreboding feeling left James, and he could smile again.
But the stench of Azkaban still resided in his nostrils.
Lily had been sitting patiently with her family, waiting for James to return. It had been a good full two hours, and now she was starting to get worried. She didn't think it would take this long to quickly rush over and say a few choice words to the prisoner. But she kept her mouth shut, in fear that her parents were having the same thoughts.
It was nine o' clock on Christmas night that James finally appeared from the fireplace in a pile of ash and smoke, and stood up to face the Evans family, all sitting on the couch, waiting for him to return.
Mr. Evans and Mrs. Evans were taken by surprise at this trick, and complimented on its dramatics. Petunia just stared him down as he got to his feet, brushing the dust off of his knickers. He didn't reply to anything that the Evans's said to him, and quickly grabbed Lily. His lower lip was trembling, and he rushed up the stairs, and through the hallway.
"What is it, James?" Lily asked, as James found Lily's room, and shut the door behind them as they entered. James looked shaken, and he took Lily by both of her shoulders and gave her a long kiss. She stared at him as he broke away, and then fell on the bed.
"James, are you feeling all right?" she whispered, coming to sit next to him.
And then, he burst into tears. It was the first time that Lily had ever seen him cry. It was the second time in his life that he had ever let anyone see him. She looked taken aback as she put an arm around him, and patted him quietly.
"Shh," she said, "What happened?"
"I'm never going back there again," he cried, wiping his brow free from sweat, "It was a nightmare. All I could see was them. And you. And Remus. And Sirius. And Peter. All of you dead. All of you in front of Voldemort . . . And . . . and I couldn't remember anything worth remembering . . . It was horrible . . . Those dementors . . ."
"Take a breath, all right?" Lily said, "We're all perfectly fine. We're all here, alive. Okay? Look at me, James. It's fine."
"He was just a kid," James sobbed, "He was as old as me! He said that Voldemort's getting people younger than us to go out and fight . . . God, Lily . . . what happened to our world? One of them's only thirteen . . ."
"Who was just a kid?" Lily asked.
"Jack Williams," James said, "Jack Williams was just a kid. And now he's . . . now he's . . ."
"He killed your parents, James."
"But . . . he was so young! They're all so . . ."
And then he was off in more tears, unable to talk. Lily didn't feel comfortable seeing him like this. He was scaring her.
"When you get around those things," he said, trying to pull himself together, "It's like . . . I felt like I would never be happy again. I felt like the world was ending. God, I've never felt like that before. No hope left, and just . . . just pure fear, Lily. Just . . . just pure fear."
"But you're home now," she said, pushing his hair out of his face, "And we're happy and alive. We're going to be married soon."
"I saw Elise again," he muttered, and Lily's face lost all color.
"Come on, James," she said, "Please don't do this. Please. It's Christmas."
"I love you, Lily," James said, lunging to embrace her. Lily uncomfortably returned his hug, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She rubbed his back as they sat there, trying not to cry again.
A knock came from the door.
"Mother wants to know if you two still want your trifle," Petunia's voice came.
How long had she been standing there?
From the look on her face, she had been there for a good long time, because her face was as white as Lily's when they opened the door. She was staring at James, who was trying to dry his face off before heading back downstairs.
With control in his voice, he said, "Sure. We'd love some trifle," and then walked back downstairs to Lily's parents.
Lily started after him, but Petunia tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around to face her sister.
"I heard you," she said.
"I know," Lily said simply.
"Like he would never be happy again?" Petunia repeated, and then eyed her, "Dementors?"
"Welcome to our world," she said, putting her hair back into place, and then heading down the corridor.
"Is this Voldemort like the dementors?" her sister asked as she reached the stairs.
Lily looked back at her, and then shook her head, "Worse. And he's not just after wizards."
Petunia didn't say a word, but silently followed her sister back downstairs. Her loathing for James returned as she entered the dining room, and saw him laughing again with Lily.
She hated them both.
It was their kind that Voldemort was.
Freaks of nature.