(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.)
The Ministry of Magic was filled that morning, with all sorts of wizards and witches coming and going, up and down the elevators and into the front hall, where that beautiful statue of the witch and wizard, in harmony with the elf and the goblin, and centaur, stood. James knew that it must have been a joke. A centaur, or at least what he had learned about them, would not be smiling if they were within a mile of a human. Let alone in harmony with them.
The second floor was where Sirius would be. He assisted the Aurors in their offices, and had become sort of a pet to Frank and Moody. They let him work on a lot of his assignments, and Sirius, in James's point of view, outranked most of the true Aurors in battle. But Sirius was too young, and hadn't gone to the schooling, therefore he had no chance of becoming one in the near future. It stung Sirius, he knew. It's all that he dreamed about as a child.
But they hadn't turned out like what their boyhood selves wanted to be. James wasn't a lone-free Quidditch player, touring Europe and his face all over the magazine covers. And Sirius wasn't a lone-free bachelor saving the world from evil Dark wizards . . .
Wait.
All right, so it had only been James that hadn't fulfilled his boyhood fantasies.
This didn't make him feel any better.
He felt himself stepping into the elevator, and being shoved about by the official-looking workers in their work robes and suitcases. He felt out of place in his street clothes, and sheepishly looked to the businessmen and women, a mischevious smile on his face. None of them knew him. None of them cared to know him.
He didn't recognize any of them.
If he had been a Quidditch player, they would have recognized him.
"Oh, James Potter!" they would scream, "Can I have your signature? It's Potter! The Seeker for the Cannons! They actually won the cup last year, all because of him!"
Sadly that wasn't the case, and he felt his legs carrying him out of the elevator, and into the Auror office filled with the cubicles.
"Hey, James!" a man said from his chair, "How's it going with the wife?"
"Good," he replied, as another Auror took him by the neck, swinging his arm around his shoulders.
"Catch the game last Sunday down in Catchpole?" he asked him.
"No," James said, truthfully, "Sort of busy."
"Heard about the baby, Potter!" another voice sounded from across the room, "Congrats from the wife and me!"
"James?" Sirius said, coming out from a backroom, wearing his best wizarding robes. James would have thought he'd gone straight if he hadn't seen his biker boots protruding from underneath the pinstriped cloak. But he still had to laugh at him.
"What are you doing here?" Sirius asked, as his friend drew closer, "You don't work here."
"No, really?" James said, greeting Sirius as they slapped hands, "I need to talk to you about something. A favor."
"A favor?" Sirius returned his laugh, and led him into the office in the back where he had emerged from. It read "FRANK LONGBOTTOM" in large gold letters on the door.
"He's important," James commented as Sirius shut the door behind him, and James was let into a dark, but spacious, office. There was a desk, with pictures lined on the top. Frank and Alice. Alice and Frank. Alice. Some more of Alice. An old woman who he didn't recognize, behind the smiling faces of Alice and Frank.
"Yeah, well, when you're a war hero, they tend to give you better workspace," Sirius said, leaning up against his desk. He still looked ridiculous in that pinstriped suit. James wondered how much Frank had to pay him to get him to wear it out in public. Sirius looked so out of place in it.
"So what sort of favor are you asking from me?" Sirius asked as James took a seat in one of the large leather chairs. James sighed, mussed his hair, and smiled.
"Lily and I have been talking," he said.
"And you have to come visit me at work?" Sirius asked, and crossed his arms, "What happened? Don't tell me you're already divorcing her."
"No," James started, "No, not at all. But we've been talking . . . and . . . well, Sirius, do you know what a godfather is?"
"Not really," Sirius said, "Isn't that some sort of fairy tale rubbish or something?"
"No, Sirius," James said, sighing. This was going to be harder than he thought, "A godfather is a person, in the Catholic religion, that is there at the baptism of the child and speaks for them. They accept our ways for the child, since the child is too young to make that decision. And then, if the parents are . . . unable . . . to uphold their duties of bringing up the child, then the godfather takes over both as the legal guardian, and as the one that has to lead the child through accepting Christ and the Catholic religion."
"You rehearsed this, hey?" Sirius smiled, and James let out a rattling breath.
"Yeah, I did," James said.
"And why are you explaining this whole thing to me?" Sirius asked. James shrugged.
"Well, we were sort of hoping that you would be my child's godfather," he said weakly.
Sirius's expression was torn between joy and fear, and soon James could see that he was struggling to focus on him. His mouth dropped open, and a small laugh escaped.
"James, I . . . I'm really not a religious person, James," Sirius said, "I think I'm the last person on Earth that you want raising your Catholic kid. Really, I hardly could stand to say Grace at your house when I would come over . . ."
"That isn't what I'm worried about," James said, "I just want to know that someone would take care of my son or daughter if something happened to me."
"But that's not going to happen," Sirius said, becoming defensive, "There's no possible way that that's going to happen."
"But if it did," James plowed on, "I need someone to be there for my baby. I need it to have a father. And I know that he . . . or she . . . would be lucky to have you there for him . . . or her."
"Of course I would be there for him . . . or her," Sirius added, with a tint of disgust in his voice, "Of course I'd take care of . . . it. You shouldn't even have to ask about that. I'd treat him just like you."
"Then God help him," and then James added quickly, "I mean, it."
"So what do I have to do?" Sirius asked jokingly, "Get baptised? Become a good Catholic?"
"Actually," James said slowly, "Yes, you do."
Sirius's eyes shot out of his sockets, and his jaw hit the floor, "What the hell?"
"Well, you have to be of the religion to be a godfather," James said, "It's how the rules go."
"Jesus," Sirius said, "Do you understand that I think I've broken like . . . every sin on that one stone?"
"There were two," James sighed, "And they were slates."
"Right," Sirius said, nodding, "Okay. Slates. And what are slates?"
James buried his face in his hands, "Sirius, now when my mother gave you that Bible for Christmas, did you read it?"
"Some of it," Sirius admitted, "The part about Christmas, and the beginning. And that part about the big boat and all of the animals?"
"You mean the ark?"
"Kanzuhntieht," Sirius muttered, walking to the bookshelf, and taking a worn book off of the shelf, "This is a Bible that Frank has. Lemme see. I'll get it all memorized and be ready for the baptism soon enough."
"Well, you really don't have to memorize it, Sirius," James said, "I don't even have it memorized."
"What? Church goer James doesn't have the Bible down word for word?" Sirius tutted, "Oh, your mother must have hated you."
James narrowed his eyes, and stood to face him, "Look, all you have to do is act semi-intelligent and give yourself to the religion. Just go there, let them do their thing, and you'll be in the clear. You don't have to know anything about it. Just do as they say, and nod your head when they ask you a question. All right?"
"You're not coming with me?" Sirius said, looking jolted.
"I can't," James said, "I have your meeting with the priest scheduled for this evening, and I have to take Lily to the Healer's . . ."
"TONIGHT?" Sirius barked, "YOU SET IT FOR TONIGHT?"
"Yeah," James said, taking the Bible from Sirius and placing it on the shelf, "Tonight. You're to be there at six. Here's the address," he dug a piece of paper out of his pocket, and handed it to him, "The same church that we got married in. Just don't freak out on them, all right? Go along with it, and let them tell you what to do."
"Yeah, yeah," Sirius said, staring at the paper like it was his last sin of them all, "Sure. Whatever you want."
"Thank you so much," James said, and then headed for the door, "And remember," he said, "If they start talking in Latin, just nod your head and pretend like you understand every word they're saying."
And then James was gone. Sirius gulped, and looked down at the sheet again. Oh, wouldn't this be fun?
The Ministry of Magic was filled that morning, with all sorts of wizards and witches coming and going, up and down the elevators and into the front hall, where that beautiful statue of the witch and wizard, in harmony with the elf and the goblin, and centaur, stood. James knew that it must have been a joke. A centaur, or at least what he had learned about them, would not be smiling if they were within a mile of a human. Let alone in harmony with them.
The second floor was where Sirius would be. He assisted the Aurors in their offices, and had become sort of a pet to Frank and Moody. They let him work on a lot of his assignments, and Sirius, in James's point of view, outranked most of the true Aurors in battle. But Sirius was too young, and hadn't gone to the schooling, therefore he had no chance of becoming one in the near future. It stung Sirius, he knew. It's all that he dreamed about as a child.
But they hadn't turned out like what their boyhood selves wanted to be. James wasn't a lone-free Quidditch player, touring Europe and his face all over the magazine covers. And Sirius wasn't a lone-free bachelor saving the world from evil Dark wizards . . .
Wait.
All right, so it had only been James that hadn't fulfilled his boyhood fantasies.
This didn't make him feel any better.
He felt himself stepping into the elevator, and being shoved about by the official-looking workers in their work robes and suitcases. He felt out of place in his street clothes, and sheepishly looked to the businessmen and women, a mischevious smile on his face. None of them knew him. None of them cared to know him.
He didn't recognize any of them.
If he had been a Quidditch player, they would have recognized him.
"Oh, James Potter!" they would scream, "Can I have your signature? It's Potter! The Seeker for the Cannons! They actually won the cup last year, all because of him!"
Sadly that wasn't the case, and he felt his legs carrying him out of the elevator, and into the Auror office filled with the cubicles.
"Hey, James!" a man said from his chair, "How's it going with the wife?"
"Good," he replied, as another Auror took him by the neck, swinging his arm around his shoulders.
"Catch the game last Sunday down in Catchpole?" he asked him.
"No," James said, truthfully, "Sort of busy."
"Heard about the baby, Potter!" another voice sounded from across the room, "Congrats from the wife and me!"
"James?" Sirius said, coming out from a backroom, wearing his best wizarding robes. James would have thought he'd gone straight if he hadn't seen his biker boots protruding from underneath the pinstriped cloak. But he still had to laugh at him.
"What are you doing here?" Sirius asked, as his friend drew closer, "You don't work here."
"No, really?" James said, greeting Sirius as they slapped hands, "I need to talk to you about something. A favor."
"A favor?" Sirius returned his laugh, and led him into the office in the back where he had emerged from. It read "FRANK LONGBOTTOM" in large gold letters on the door.
"He's important," James commented as Sirius shut the door behind him, and James was let into a dark, but spacious, office. There was a desk, with pictures lined on the top. Frank and Alice. Alice and Frank. Alice. Some more of Alice. An old woman who he didn't recognize, behind the smiling faces of Alice and Frank.
"Yeah, well, when you're a war hero, they tend to give you better workspace," Sirius said, leaning up against his desk. He still looked ridiculous in that pinstriped suit. James wondered how much Frank had to pay him to get him to wear it out in public. Sirius looked so out of place in it.
"So what sort of favor are you asking from me?" Sirius asked as James took a seat in one of the large leather chairs. James sighed, mussed his hair, and smiled.
"Lily and I have been talking," he said.
"And you have to come visit me at work?" Sirius asked, and crossed his arms, "What happened? Don't tell me you're already divorcing her."
"No," James started, "No, not at all. But we've been talking . . . and . . . well, Sirius, do you know what a godfather is?"
"Not really," Sirius said, "Isn't that some sort of fairy tale rubbish or something?"
"No, Sirius," James said, sighing. This was going to be harder than he thought, "A godfather is a person, in the Catholic religion, that is there at the baptism of the child and speaks for them. They accept our ways for the child, since the child is too young to make that decision. And then, if the parents are . . . unable . . . to uphold their duties of bringing up the child, then the godfather takes over both as the legal guardian, and as the one that has to lead the child through accepting Christ and the Catholic religion."
"You rehearsed this, hey?" Sirius smiled, and James let out a rattling breath.
"Yeah, I did," James said.
"And why are you explaining this whole thing to me?" Sirius asked. James shrugged.
"Well, we were sort of hoping that you would be my child's godfather," he said weakly.
Sirius's expression was torn between joy and fear, and soon James could see that he was struggling to focus on him. His mouth dropped open, and a small laugh escaped.
"James, I . . . I'm really not a religious person, James," Sirius said, "I think I'm the last person on Earth that you want raising your Catholic kid. Really, I hardly could stand to say Grace at your house when I would come over . . ."
"That isn't what I'm worried about," James said, "I just want to know that someone would take care of my son or daughter if something happened to me."
"But that's not going to happen," Sirius said, becoming defensive, "There's no possible way that that's going to happen."
"But if it did," James plowed on, "I need someone to be there for my baby. I need it to have a father. And I know that he . . . or she . . . would be lucky to have you there for him . . . or her."
"Of course I would be there for him . . . or her," Sirius added, with a tint of disgust in his voice, "Of course I'd take care of . . . it. You shouldn't even have to ask about that. I'd treat him just like you."
"Then God help him," and then James added quickly, "I mean, it."
"So what do I have to do?" Sirius asked jokingly, "Get baptised? Become a good Catholic?"
"Actually," James said slowly, "Yes, you do."
Sirius's eyes shot out of his sockets, and his jaw hit the floor, "What the hell?"
"Well, you have to be of the religion to be a godfather," James said, "It's how the rules go."
"Jesus," Sirius said, "Do you understand that I think I've broken like . . . every sin on that one stone?"
"There were two," James sighed, "And they were slates."
"Right," Sirius said, nodding, "Okay. Slates. And what are slates?"
James buried his face in his hands, "Sirius, now when my mother gave you that Bible for Christmas, did you read it?"
"Some of it," Sirius admitted, "The part about Christmas, and the beginning. And that part about the big boat and all of the animals?"
"You mean the ark?"
"Kanzuhntieht," Sirius muttered, walking to the bookshelf, and taking a worn book off of the shelf, "This is a Bible that Frank has. Lemme see. I'll get it all memorized and be ready for the baptism soon enough."
"Well, you really don't have to memorize it, Sirius," James said, "I don't even have it memorized."
"What? Church goer James doesn't have the Bible down word for word?" Sirius tutted, "Oh, your mother must have hated you."
James narrowed his eyes, and stood to face him, "Look, all you have to do is act semi-intelligent and give yourself to the religion. Just go there, let them do their thing, and you'll be in the clear. You don't have to know anything about it. Just do as they say, and nod your head when they ask you a question. All right?"
"You're not coming with me?" Sirius said, looking jolted.
"I can't," James said, "I have your meeting with the priest scheduled for this evening, and I have to take Lily to the Healer's . . ."
"TONIGHT?" Sirius barked, "YOU SET IT FOR TONIGHT?"
"Yeah," James said, taking the Bible from Sirius and placing it on the shelf, "Tonight. You're to be there at six. Here's the address," he dug a piece of paper out of his pocket, and handed it to him, "The same church that we got married in. Just don't freak out on them, all right? Go along with it, and let them tell you what to do."
"Yeah, yeah," Sirius said, staring at the paper like it was his last sin of them all, "Sure. Whatever you want."
"Thank you so much," James said, and then headed for the door, "And remember," he said, "If they start talking in Latin, just nod your head and pretend like you understand every word they're saying."
And then James was gone. Sirius gulped, and looked down at the sheet again. Oh, wouldn't this be fun?