The Sins of their Father
Author's Note: Harry Potter and the rest is to J.K. Rowling.
This one took a disgustingly long time in the writing, so I hope everyone still remembers what happened before this chapter. God knows I don't.
*
Chapter Five: Unlaced
James was going back down the kitchens when he saw Slughorn talking to a blank space of wall at the end of the hallway. Instincts urged him to lie flat against one of the doors lining the corridor and listen in to what Slughorn could be saying, but knowing that he would be in a very awkward situation if the butler turned around and caught him, James had to satisfy himself with a cough.
"Potter. What are you doing here?" Slughorn turned towards him more quickly than James expected from a man of his girth. The old man's face betrayed only impatience tinged with suspicion, which was a normal expression enough for a butler who had just caught one of the kitchen help wandering two floors above the rooms allowed the other servants. Only James noticed that Slughorn's hands had tightening into fists against his sides and that the older man wouldn't quite meet his eyes.
"The master sent for his coffee and Dolores was occupied with that biting kettle," said James.
"Kettle?"
"That one singing rhymes all the time. Tried to bite her hand off when she tried to get it off the stove this morning."
"Not again," said Slughorn, distractedly. "It's because Sirius keeps on performing magical experiments in the study, I know it. All that magic has to leak down the kitchens. Is Dolores all right?"
James shrugged. "Her hands were still attached when I last saw her." More's the pity, he added silently. Nobody much liked Dolores Umbridge, who had been serving the Blacks longer than everyone save Slughorn and who seemed to think that this meant she was somehow better than everyone else.
"Well, what are you standing there for? Get back down there and help her with that kettle!"
"Yes, sir," said James, moving towards the stairs. He could feel the butler's gaze following him down the landing although he resisted looking back, not even giving the wall Slughorn had been talking to another glance. There was time enough for that later.
James Potter can be quite a patient person when it was required of him.
*
Remus placed the tray on Black's desk, noting with a slightly raised eyebrow the goblets already resting there and the open bottle of rum.
"Begging your pardon," he said, grating some chocolate into Black's cup. "But I hope you did not drink that before having your breakfast, sir."
Black pulled up a chair beside the desk and threw himself on it with the sort of indolent grace unique to members of the ton belonging to his age group. The movement caused his dressing gown (which had been tied at the waist very negligently in the first place) to reveal enough pale skin for Remus to ascertain that Black was wearing nothing else underneath.
"Of course not," said Black. "I might be daft, but I'm not suicidal."
Remus wanted to say that being the first would probably drive him towards the latter but forebore. "Have you been entertaining someone, then?"
"Nosey, aren't we?" said Black, buttering a triangle of toast. "Is someone paying you to ask questions, Lupin?"
"I hope you were not dressed like that," said Remus. The cup was a third full of grated chocolate before he poured hot water inside from the china pot, adding only the slightest dash of milk before placing the cup back on the desk.
Black took a bite from his toast, chewing carefully before answering, "I don't believe business matters need to be discussed in jackets and waistcoats."
"But not in dressing gowns either," Remus pointed out, trying not to stare as Black licked the crumbs off his lips. "You might give people the wrong ideas."
"You know Lupin, if you can do something that would unnerve the receiving end of your conversation, do it. People tend to do daft things when caught off guard," said Black. He seemed to be aware of what Remus had been doing, because he paused long enough to smile at Remus, tilting one eyebrow in a manner that can only be described as pornographic. "Don't you agree?"
Remus fought to keep his expression neutral. "Perhaps."
"I'm supposed to dine with my cousin Bellatrix this evening," said Black, breaking eye contact. "Can you see if that blue jacket would be decent enough to satisfy the old peahen?"
"The one with the silver trimmings, sir?" Remus waited for Black to nod before sketching a bow. "If that is all, then."
Remus managed to close the door behind him before methodically cursing Sirius Black to all seven levels of Hell under his breath.
*
Prongs,
All right, you can't blame a bloke for having a bit of fun now and then, even if it's at your own expense, but to make amends (you can't say I'm not generous when I want to be):
Be at the Leaky Cauldron at around dinner time tomorrow. A certain lady with autumn in her hair likes to drop by the place before going home, and you might find some topics of interest to talk about over steak and wine. Might as well put your fifteen Galleons to good use, yes?
Wormtail
*
"Fancy meeting you here, Miss Evans."
Lily Evans was sitting on one of the tables nearest the fire, bent down over a notebook while tapping the tip of her quill absently against the corner of her lips. James had to clear his throat several times before she looked up at him with a small smile.
"Potter," she said. "I drink pumpkin juice with my steak and potato salad."
It took several thundering heartbeats' worth of seconds before James decided to copy Lily's attitude. "As do I. Capital. You would of course let me join you?"
"Of course." He could not be sure if she was laughing at him, but looking at her green eyes, he decided he didn't really care. Lily nodded at the chair across from hers. "Sit down, Potter."
James did. "Wormtail said we should take wine with our steak."
"Well, I'm sure Wormtail doesn't care about his figure," said Lily, wryly. "I would like some butterbeer, but nothing would really beat a Three Broomsticks blend and I don't see why we should bother otherwise."
"Don't let Tom hear you say that," said James.
"Tom likes me."
"I don't doubt it." James sighed. "I didn't know you were part of the Order."
"Dumbledore likes to keep the members' identities privy only to a few," Lily pointed out. She didn't need to: that was one of the first things that a member of the Order of the Phoenix learned upon initiation. The only member James had seen personally aside from Dumbledore was Wormtail himself. And now Lily Evans. "But are you sure this is a good place to be talking about this?"
"Look around you, Evans." James pointed at the general direction of the crowded bar with his chin. "People are dropping by for drinks after work, or eating dinner like we are, all engrossed in their own petty concerns. Do you think anyone would pay attention to a pathetic bloke trying to catch one girl's attention? And even if that were the case, it's not like they can hear anything in this soundtrap of a cave."
"Perhaps not," Lily agreed, albeit grudgingly. "You're a self-satisfied prat, aren't you?"
James grinned. "It comes with the job."
"I'm sure." Lily gestured at Tom the bartender who was hovering by James's right elbow. "Do you mind placing our order, Potter?"
"Not at all." James turned towards the old man with what he hoped was a winning smile. "Steak and potato salad for me and the lady, Tom. And pumpkin juice to go with that."
"Wine's best with steak," Tom said.
"Trust me, Tom," said James. "I already tried that. Worked like a Squib's charm, it did."
*
Wormtail,
Tips on impressing a wonderful lady?
Prongs
*
"You're going to ask me about the rebellions," said Lily, as soon as Tom had placed the food in front of them.
"Tell me what you're working on," said James, who had no idea what they were there for. Aside from the obvious, of course.
"Of course, the Daily Prophet's trying to tone things down, giving events a couple of lines' mention at most, nothing to make the general public worry about their necks at nights," Lily's voice trailed off and she gave James a sideways look.
"I didn't hear it from you," James promised.
"Rebellions," said Lily, promptly, sticking her fork into the steak to emphasize her statement. "Seven of them in the past couple of months alone, and maybe even a few before that which we have dismissed as general dissatisfaction among the goblins. It's not uncommon for them to fight among themselves, of course."
"Goblin rebellions?" said James, raising his eyebrows.
"Oh, I know what you're thinking. Those things belong only to boring History of Magic texts, right? Well, that's what we thought too, in the beginning. But there's been some talk about the giants joining in, and even the halfbreeds—Hagrid's been sent to the mountains, remember? Do you think that was for his health?"
Rubeus Hagrid was well known in the Order as one of Dumbledore's staunchiest supporters and it was no secret either that he was half-giant. James had never met the man himself, but there had been no lack in the speculations among the other members as to why Hagrid had to leave London at such a critical time.
"All right, Evans, let me be honest with you," said James, leaning his elbows against the edge of the table. The slight lifting at the corners of Lily's mouth did not deter him. At least, not for more than a few seconds. "You know that I'm working blind here and you and Wormtail know more about the situation than I do." He raised his hand when Lily opened her mouth to say something. "I know that there are very good reasons for that. I've been sent to the field after all, and there's nothing to stop the household I'm working for to interrogate me in whatever way they think necessary, which means it's best for me to know as little as possible. But indulge me in this: why do I need to know about this?"
"Why are you working at the Blacks', Potter?" said Lily.
"If you already know, I don't need to tell you."
"All right," said Lily. "I can play that game. We both know that you were sent to the Blacks because we need the family's support. On another hand, you're focusing on the heir because Dumbledore thinks that we can get Sirius Black's sympathies more easily than Orion's."
James shrugged and sat back on his chair. "That's been interesting so far. Pray, continue."
"On the other hand, I was assigned to investigate further into this matter concerning goblin rebellions. A simple enough assignment until we found out that giants and halfbreeds were involved as well, something that has never happened before because goblins have always been an insular lot. Not that giants are any better, mind you. Dumbledore is afraid that someone is bringing all of these creatures together. That someone is leading the rebellions." Lily paused to take a bite of her steak. It was tender enough that James had to wait only a short time before she could swallow and talk again. "Now Wormtail has arranged for us to meet here. What do you make of that?"
"You cannot be serious," said James.
"In his most recent letter to Dumbledore, Hagrid spoke of a man the giants called the Hunter," Lily went on as if she hadn't heard James. "Hagrid has only glimpsed him, of course. They didn't quite trust him yet."
"And let me guess," James cut in. "This Hunter chap was pale, skinny, had shoulder-length black hair and a penchant for buggering their valets. Perhaps he is even known among the more upstanding members of society as Sirius Black?"
"It's not a joking matter, Potter."
"No," James agreed. "Have you met the bloke, Evans? There is no way that goblins would listen to him. No one in their right minds would listen to him, barring his tailors and the winesellers. And maybe Lupin, sometimes. And they're all getting well-paid for their efforts."
"Maybe that's what he wants people to think. Come on, Potter, don't tell me you bought into Black's foppish image wholesale."
"Well." Remembering his earlier conversation with Shacklebolt, James had to reconsider a bit. "Maybe not. But what has he to gain with all these insidious little games when his family is powerful enough to oppose Voldemort openly? Does that make him one of our allies, then?"
"That," said Lily. "Is what we're expecting you to find out."
They did not talk much after that, which was just as well because more people were coming into the pub and James would have had to shout to get Lily to hear him. And considering the happy topics of their conversation, James thought that was hardly an option. He was almost relieved when Lily finished eating her steak (James had finished eating ages ago) and began to gather her things into a small purse.
He walked her to a cab, offering her his arm with exaggerated flourish that made her smile. Her hand was long and slim, with tapering fingers. Fingers that would probably be callused by writing too much. James wondered how they would feel like, in his hands.
"Perhaps we could go out, for butterbeer sometime," he said, holding the door of the cab open.
"At the Three Broomsticks? That would be quite a long way from here, wouldn't it, Potter?" said Lily.
"It would be well worth it."
*
Prongs,
Even though I have never styled myself as a Casanova, I must say that I'm flattered you should ask:
Let her do the talking. Appear interested. Maybe even ask her about her work? Don't lay it on too thick, though. Girls are known to see past through all that.
Wormtail
*
Later that night James pulled on his Invisibility Cloak and retraced his steps to the part of the third floor corridor where he had seen Slughorn talking to a wall earlier. He didn't really know what he was going to do once he gets there, since he had no fondness for speaking to walls himself, but he figured it was something that needed further investigation and James had always considered himself one of the meticulous sort.
He was already halfway up the stairs when he began to pick out voices from the nighttime noises common to houses as old and large as Grimmauld Place. Cursing under his breath, James flattened himself against the wall and hoped that whoever was walking down the hallway would not take it into their minds to go downstairs for a glass of water or some such daft thing. The staircase was wide enough that anyone can pass by without brushing against James, of course, but he didn't like to take chances.
"You have five nights, Lupin. Less than a week. What do you intend to do, at the end of that time?" James dared to edge closer to the speaker, recognizing Slughorn's high-pitched voice. He was careful to place his feet on the part of the stairs nearest the wall, where the wood was less likely to creak.
"Let me handle that on my own, Horace," said Lupin, shortly. The valet had been out of sorts the whole day, looking uncharacteristically irritated about something. Not that James had had much chance of observing the other boy (Lupin's job required him to keep to the parts of the house James had no business being, after all), but he had seen Lupin attacking his third helping of curry as if it were a personal affront during dinner and had taken careful note.
"Where are you going now?" Slughorn went on.
"My room. Perhaps you haven't noticed, Horace, but it's past midnight and everyone has already turned in for the night."
"Do you think I'm stupid? You're going to Sirius's room, aren't you?" Slughorn's voice had devolved into a hiss. James was almost crying in frustration as he strained to listen to the conversation without having to crawl on all fours to where the two were standing.
"No. That's where I came from," said Lupin. "Do I have to keep reminding you that I am the man's valet?"
"What's your game, Lupin?"
"Trust me, Slughorn," said Lupin, whose voice sounded louder although he was talking more softly. James flattened himself against the wall more vigorously as the valet rounded the corner and James caught sight of Lupin's black livery. "There is no game."
James was close enough that he heard Lupin when he added, "Not this one," to himself.
The plot, James thought, was thick enough to serve as Christmas pudding.