"Sherman…" James was pleading with the man. "We have to say something."
"We're delivering the news," Sherman said from his chair in front of James' desk. "I think that's enough."
James leaned forward. "We have to say something, Sherman. We've got the platform and it would be wrong of us not to take a stand."
Sherman exhaled and removed his glasses; clutching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "James," he said quietly. "I'm very sorry about Lily's parents, but we can't turn the station into a political organization."
"This isn't just about Lily's parents," James had both elbows on his desk and was waving his arms and hands wildly. "This is about all the people that he's killed."
"I doubt he's going to stop because Wizarding Wireless is telling people he's a bad guy," Sherman put his glasses back on and leaned back in the plush chair. "And we'll lose half of our listeners. People listen to the wireless to get away from reality: to hear music, a few jokes. They don't want to hear political rants."
"They wouldn't be rants," James ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "They would just be people telling the public how to fight back. We could get Dumbledore, Alastor Moody…I'll speak myself. We just have to get people to fight back."
Sherman sighed and looked up at the young man in front of him. "Your optimism is amazing, Potter. The truth is most people don't fight back. They'd rather just lay low and be ignored."
"Sherman," James' eyes grew behind his glasses. "You lost a cousin last year. Don't you feel any sort of anger? Don't you want to help stop him?"
Sherman looked at the floor for a second; gathering his thoughts. "I don't want to lose my children. If we do this, we'll be at the top of the hit list. Everyone who works at WWN will be a target. Putting yourself in harm's way is one thing James," he shut his eyes for a second. "But do you really want that much responsibility on your shoulders?"
"Who's to say they don't want to be part of the resistance effort?" James said quickly; his arms flailing desperately.
"The people who work here aren't political activists, James." He said quietly; looking James straight in the eye. "They come to work, do their job, and earn a paycheck to help out their families. None of them will want this kind of trouble."
"I do own the company," James said after a second.
"You're right," Sherman nodded. "You do get to make the decisions. But, James, I urge you to be careful. Don't throw the entire company into this. Not just yet, at least. You'll lose half the listeners and half of the staff. The company will fold within months. You'll lose so much money…"
"This isn't about money," James snapped. "Merlin knows I've got enough money."
"But think about the people who'll lose their jobs, James." He shrugged. "Those blokes who work in transmitting. Most of them have been here as long as you've been alive. You'll be fine. Black'll be fine. I'll be fine. But them…what will they do?"
"I'll think about it some more," James conceded.
"Look James," Sherman said as he stood. "I know you're just trying to make a difference. But you're making a huge difference just by employing these people. You don't need to attach yourself to some noble cause."
"I've got to think, Sherman," he said; gesturing to the door. Sherman nodded and slipped out of James' office.
James took off his glasses and put his face in his hands. The weekly broadcasts denouncing Voldemort had seemed like a genius idea to him last night, but now…well, Sherman did make a few good points. James thought about his father. What would Douglas Potter have done? He ran this company smoothly for over thirty years. More than anything, James wished his father could tell him what to do. He had always taught James to speak up for what he believed in. Always. But Sherman was right. He couldn't just pull hundreds of unsuspecting employees into this. He was willing to take the risk, but were they? It just wasn't fair.
In the end, James decided not to run the weekly talks, but something inside of him kept telling him he should. He owned the Wizarding Wireless Network – one of the most powerful forms of mass communication available. In order to quell his conscience, he followed the path his father had taken and began writing editorials to The Daily Prophet. A few were published, but only a fraction of the hundreds James sent in. The particularly raging ones the newspaper sent back. To James, it wasn't nearly enough. But at least it was something.
James' first editorial was published the morning after Rachel Austen, a famous muggle-born Quidditch star, was murdered. There was a meeting of the order that afternoon, but as usual, no one had anything to say. The evidence about the Austen muder was spotty. Doge, of course, had his hair-brained theories; swearing he heard Austen's teammate, Lugo Bagman, mention something about telling a man in a pub that she was on holiday in Scotland. Moody promised he'd look into it.
Sirius, in his frustration with life, had run off to a seedy pub near Knockturn Alley that night. Setting himself at the bar, he ordered Ogden's Old Firewhiskey from the vampire-esque bartender. He threw it back and felt the alcohol burn down his throat. Exhaling deeply, he reveled in the warm feeling in his chest and ordered a pint of mead. He drank it quickly and ordered another. The bartender shrugged and pulled another.
"Rough day," he chuckled.
"Every day is a rough day," Sirius growled.
The bartender set the drink down and returned to his place behind the center of the bar. He whispered to a man nursing a butterbeer. The man laughed and stood, glancing at Sirius as he left. Sirius scowled at him.
After a third pint of mead and a few more shots of firewhiskey, Sirius was ready to go home and sleep it off. Suddenly a woman walked into the bar and sat down next to him. She smiled brightly at him.
"Hi Sirius," he immediately recognized the huge blue eyes.
"Julia Connors," he shrugged, drunkenly. "What are you doing here?'
"Looking for you," she licked her top lip seductively and flipped her dark brown hair off of her shoulders.
Sirius laughed loudly. "W..why are you l..llooking for me?"
She leaned forward; wearing a mischievous smile. "I missed you," she whispered in his ear. Then she stuck her tongue inside.
Sirius jumped. He smirked at Julia as she leaned back to her seat and bit her lip; running a hand through her hair. "What was that for?" he asked slowly, stumbling over the words.
"Let's go somewhere," she winked.
Sirius shrugged. "Alright," he smiled.
She stood and grabbed his hand and led him out the door and through the streets of Diagon Alley. He followed her obediently; occasionally stumbling forward. When they reached his flat, Sirius wondered for a second how she knew where it was. He unlocked the door and she pulled him into the living room. Remus was asleep on the pull-out sofa. In the dark of the room, Sirius tripped over an end-table and let out a loud profanity.
"Shh.." she laughed and placed a finger against his lips.
She led him to the bedroom door, opened it, and flipped the lights on. He stumbled in after her; limping a little on his bruised shin. Forcefully, she pushed him down on the bed. He smirked as she climbed on top of him and began to take off his clothes.
"Y..you're d..d.different than I remember J.j..julia," he chuckled drunkenly.
She said nothing and kept stripping. When he was naked from the waist up, she climbed off of the bed and stood over him. Sirius sat up on the bed but she pushed him back down. Pulling her wand from her robes, she climbed back onto his now-naked torso and kissed him while she stretched his arms above his head; binding them to the bedposts with a quick "incarcerous."
Sirius laughed. "Wwe're ggonna do tthat…"
She smiled again, but for the first time Sirius noticed that her eyes looked somewhat glazed over. He felt a flicker of fear run through him.
"Untie me," he said; shaking his head.
She smirked and shook her head; pulling herself back off of the bed. Sirius' legs, which weren't restrained, began kicking wildly.
"Rem.." he yelled before a gag appeared in his mouth.
Julia's dead eyes stared at Sirius' terrified ones.
She pulled up her wand and pointed it directly at Sirius' chest. His entire body was now jerking on the bed, rocking the piece of furniture violently. He yanked his arms as hard as he could to free himself, but the ropes were too strong.
He saw Julia's mouth open and closed his eyes; ashamed that he would be dying in such an embarrassing way. He kept rocking; hopeful that he may be able to dodge the spell.
"STUPEFY!" he heard a voice yell.
Why had she stunned him? He was already restrained. Then Sirius realized he was still moving. He opened his eyes and saw a huge-eyed Remus standing at the foot of the bed.
"Are you alright?" he asked; his breathing heavy.
Sirius swallowed and nodded; sighing loudly. Remus walked to the side of the bed and untied Sirius' right arm. When he had freed the other arm, Sirius rubbed his wrists and pulled the gag out of his mouth, throwing it on to the floor.
"Thanks mate," Sirius muttered. "What are we going to do with her?"
Remus looked at the stunned form of the imperius-influenced Julia Connors.
"I'll call Moody," he sighed. "He'll take care of it."
Sirius rolled over to his side and rubbed his face. He was starting to get a headache.
"You can't do that anymore, you know," Remus said.
"What? Bring home birds from pubs?" Sirius slurred. "Yeah, I know. I'm supposed to shag people I actually know."
Remus sighed and left the room; looking for a piece of parchment and a quill to send a message to Moody. Sirius exhaled largely; unbelievably relieved to have gotten out of that little pickle. He stood up and stumbled back into the living room. Remus looked up from the coffee table when he walked in.
"Go back to bed, Sirius. You're drunk."
"I know I'm drunk," he grumbled, sitting down on the pull-out next to Remus. "I also almost got killed."
Remus shrugged.
"Hey look mate," he placed an uneasy hand on Remus' shoulder. "Thanks a lot."
Remus looked at him and then turned back to the parchment on the table. "What did you think I'd do? Sit in here and listen to you get blown away by a girl under the Imperius Curse?"
"You could have," Sirius shrugged. "I've been sort of a prat lately."
"Sort of," Remus said without looking up.
"I'm sorry about what I said about Gwen," he slurred.
"I know," Remus nodded. He stood with the finished letter and gave it to Sirius' owl. The white bird flew out of the window immediately. "Go to bed, Sirius," he said again, turning to see a rather queasy-looking Sirius now lying on his bed.
"But she's still in there," he protested.
Remus sighed. "Just sleep there then."
Sirius smiled slightly and closed his eyes. Remus rolled his eyes and plopped into the armchair to wait for Moody.