Disclaimer: To bad this isn't by J. K. Rowling, because maybe then it wouldn't be fanfiction anymore. A.K.A. I own nothing, except my squishy brain that plays with thoughts.
These Woven Hands by Luna Lovegood's Magic
Chapter Two
Daytime Story
James Sirius watched with glossy eyes fogged over by a memory as Lily Luna stared back at him incredulously and with much annoyance.
"James!" He snapped out of his trance and looked at her, pushing the bridge of his glasses up his nose. "Mum and Dad were hardly even there! How's this supposed to answer my question?" Her pail skin tinted pink; the Weasley blood in her was never very far off.
James Sirius sighed heavily and put his head on one elbow, letting his other hand come to jab his raven hair like a pitchfork. "There're a lot of reasons why they divorced, Lily."
"And those people are one of them?" Lily Luna leaned back in her chair, her face easing into its usual cheerful self. James nodded. "But who are they?"
"You have to wait for the rest of the story," he knew for a fact this would further her slight temper, but for some odd reason, it didn't. He was feeling very off that day for some odd reason.
Her eyes grew wide and she grew hopeful. "Oh please tell some more!"
He laughed and got up, ignoring any past thoughts. "Alright, but I'm parched. Let's go and get some water."
Lily and James crept down the grand stone staircase of Grimmauld with light, steady-paced steps. They'd herd the large door of the house open sometime amidst their story telling and James knew that their Father had arrived back home from work. As usual, he'd warned Lily Luna to be as quiet as possible because he'd been sent out on an emergency call from the Auror team at around eleven o'clock the previous night; an hour or so after she'd fallen asleep.
"He was called out at eleven? PM?" she asked once they'd reached the kitchen. James Sirius nodded and opened a cabinet to retrieve two glass cups and a simple white coffee mug.
He began to set a pot of coffee on the stove. "Kingsley flooed him when he was just falling asleep and he barely had enough time to change." The stove's burner turned on and he smiled. "It's a good thing Mum and Dad put this muggle stove here. I'm not sure if I like the idea of cooking with magic."
Lily grabbed some ice out of the refrigerator (The magical kind that never stopped keeping your drink cool and that began to do so instantly) and dropped three cubes in each cup. "Poor Dad. I don't think I could ever be an Auror."
"I think it happens with any part of the Ministry." The coffee pot on the stove, although only have being set on its gas burner for about a minute, was fairly close to boiling He again thanked his parents for the heating charms they'd placed on it. "I mean, Uncle Percy's job has nothing to do with that department and he gets called over there for any reason at all."
"Yes," Lily began while filling the glasses with water from the tap, "but he's head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
"Dad's head of the Auror team. The only one above him is Kingsley and he can't go on as many missions as he used to, so Dad's basically in charge."
In defeat, Lily slid his glass across the counter to him. With one hand, he swopped it up and off of the cold stone and took a long sip of the suddenly freezing liquid. James coughed slightly.
"You know," they herd a third voice say. Both looked up from their water drinking and at the living room a small hallway away. "I can hear everything the both of you are saying."
James Sirius put down his glass of water as his father, still fully dressed in his Auror uniform, rose from his laying position on the couch. His hair was more disheveled than it had been yesterday before he left, so James assumed he'd come home and simply fallen limp on the couch, slumber overtaking him before his head even reached its cushioned arm.
Harry walked over to the kitchen and took in the scent of the coffee to be ready in a few seconds. "Smells good," he said.
"Good morning, Dad," Lily Luna replied cheerfully.
However, James was not so cheerful. In fact, the moment he raised the coffee, which was in a strange wizard pot looking of something to be used more so for potions work than coffee, he felt the hair on the back his neck stand on ends and his hands become clammy and shake.
Harry smiled softly at his daughter. "Good morning, Lily. What have you and your brother been up to?"
James watched Lily Luna's eyes twinkled as she began to ask, "Actually Dad, I was wondering if you knew who the brunet with the–" when she was suddenly interrupted by his scream.
The coffee, although having been removed from the stove, sprang over the rim and burned James Sirius' hand. He screamed from the pain and dropped the pot. It landed on the floor with a clank, but the coffee did not spill, for the pot had magical properties of always landing in a way that would not make it's contents spill whenever it was dropped.
Harry's wand was out faster than imaginable and with a quick chilling spell, James felt the throbbing from the burn in his hand subside for a few seconds with an icy piercing sensation taking its place.
"Lily, get some healing bomb from the medicine cabinet!" Harry ordered as though he were out on an Auror mission.
Lily's long red hair, which was tied in a long ponytail instead of her usual two, flapped in the invisible breeze of the manor as she ran for the closest bathroom's cabinet. As she passed by Sirius' room, which was closest to the front of the house, a groggy and in–need–of–a–good–shaving Sirius Black emerged, still in his winter flannel pajamas.
He stretched his arms out and yawned. "You lot 'ave to give a man a break," James herd Sirius faintly say and then yawn as he began to walk to the kitchen. " 'O's making all the ruckus?"
Lily Luna sprinted past him, her hand in slight pain and attention mainly focused on opening the jar of the potion. Harry took the now opened green jar and began to rub it over James' hands. His body relaxed after the slight sting the balm brought on that was replaced with his father's tender hands rubbing his own.
Sirius bent down to pick up the coffee pot as though nothing were going on; James assumed he was wondering where the Daily Prophet was. Harry only glanced at him for a moment before shaking his head with a silent chuckle at his Godfather and finally removing his hands from James'. Seeing that Lily Luna had a slight scratch on her hands in her attempt at opening the jar, he rubbed the last of the healing balm on her palms.
"It's not like you to spill coffee like that, James," he listened as his Dad commented. "Are you feeling alright?" James Sirius nodded, grabbing a mug for Sirius even if he wasn't sure if he'd drink his coffee.
Lily Luna looked down at her healed hands and shrugged. "We're both just tired," she said in his defense. "Come on, James."
"Where are you two headed?" asked Harry, stepping over to the breakfast nook table where Sirius was looking out the window in hopes of seeing the owl that would bring the prophet. Harry retrieved the bundled parchment from the floor and gave it to him.
"I need her for an Arithmancy paper. I have to get someone to solve some basic problems." After, throwing his and Lily Luna's glasses in the sink, the two again ascended up the stairs back to the grand library.
Sirius poured his cup of coffee and frowned. "Now why would you have to write a paper for arithmetic?" He then took a long sip of his coffee, let out a large "ah" and smacking his lips before glinting over at Harry.
He was leaning against the counter, his mug half vacant of the hot liquid and a faint moustache of coffee on his face. His green eyes were frozen, skin ashen, and Sirius had to second guess himself in making sure that he was still breathing. "It tastes just like the coffee she used to make," he said blankly. With a look of coming close to tears in his eyes he faded off with, "My girl's coffee…"
Meanwhile, up in the library, James was already lost in continuing with the story, an expression mirroring his Father's below painted across his face as he spoke.
I couldn't quite place the expression on my father's face at that moment. Maybe if I was older I could have seen it for what I later learned was, but I was just eight-year-old James Sirius Potter back then. No Albert Einstein and no Merlin.
"Ron? Hermione? Is it really you?" my Father asked in the faintest of tones. The thought must have been so incredulous to him.
The female, whom I now knew by Hermione, nodded, her messy brown ponytail bobbing up and down. She smiled warmly at him and exchanged a quick glance with Ron. "It's wonderful to see you again, Harry."
"I didn't even think you'd come!" My father said, obviously feeling his eyes were lying to him. "I mean, we haven't seen each other since…" Dad trailed off in thought, digging through his brain to find an exact date.
"Oh, Merlin knows when!" Hermione finished with a slight chuckle.
Ron walked to my Dad and clapped him on the shoulder. "Do you think I would miss a chance to see the man who shangged my sister silly?" He said laughing. My Father tinted a faint shade of pink, but he too broke into a grin.
"Ronald!" his wife snapped at him in a similar way to Nana Molly. So that was his full name. Ronald. "Not in front of the children." Hermione's eyes gazed down at me, the girl, boy, and other younger boy, who seemed a bit bored by the conversation unlike myself with my ears perked up and eyes livid from all the sudden revelations I was having. I didn't know what shangging meant, but it must have had something to do with us.
"Mum," the oldest boy tugged at his Mother's robes, "I want to see the others," he said simply, but I could see the anticipation clearly in his blue eyes. Ron came to ruffle his hair. The younger boy eagerly grabbing for his Father's free hand and brgan grinning broadly as though just standing next to his Father was just as good as being in his arms.
His features twisted themselves into a broadened smile as he said to his son, "Is that so? Well, first we have to go and meet your cousins. Imagine all the ruckus you lot 'll make!" He laughed at his own joke and cast a look at his wife and my Dad. "Coming?"
Hermione smiled, as they'd already started walking towards the dinning room without her answer. "In a minute," Hermione called to them, beginning to take off her white summer jacket. My Dad gently pulled it the rest of the way and hung it up for her. The girl looked down at her hands, her face covered by hair that was so frizzy, I thought maybe she'd just been walking in the rain.
"Don't mind him," she spoke in the absence of her Husband, "He just hasn't seen his family in so long."
My Father nodded knowingly, picking up scattered things like my little sister's tiny socks and his own Auror boots and glancing one over at the girl and winking. "I don't blame him," he said thoughtfully, "I haven't seen Mum and Dad,"—Grandmother Lily and Grandfather James—"for a while since today."
Her expression softened as she took out the wrinkles from her periwinkle blouse. "How are they?" she asked calmly.
"Same as always," he muttered and it was as though, in her silent nod, that she knew even more about my Grandparents then I did. There was a silence only to be disturbed by me stepping on a dog toy we had lying around to entertain Lily and Sirius when he decided to trot around as a dog to play with Lily Luna more effectively.
Hermione, felling a need to change the subject I assumed, looked over at me and grinned. "This is your oldest, right?"
"Yeah." He looked down at me, patting my back with his hand. "You're very quiet today, Jimmy. Go on then, introduce yourself to Hermione." He pushed me forward slightly and for a moment I just looked at her.
It wasn't hard to tell that she was a Mother. She held that caring look in her eyes that my Mum got whenever she played or fed Lily Luna. Her periwinkle blouse was of a light material with brown outlines of flowers. It retracted at the ends making it look poofy on her, which went well with the brown skirt she was wearing. Hermione was one of the few guests in all muggle's clothing. She stopped down on her knees and smiled at me.
"Hello there. I'm an old friend of your Dad's, Hermione Granger–Weasley." A Weasley! Ron was a Weasley! That meant that that boy and his brother were my cousins!
"My names is James Sirius Potter," I said for about the hundredth time that day, completely ignoring the hairs prickling on the back of my neck, "I'm Lily Luna's big brother."
Hermione chuckled. "Isn't that lovely? He's so polite, Harry. Just like you were." Her hand came up to ruffle my hair. I flinched slightly, waiting for the usual over-ruffle and nails clawing into my skull that almost all of my relatives gave me; leaving me looking like a mangy mutt. I was surprised when all her hand did was gently massage and comb through my ebony locks. She laughed at my shocked expression and stood back up just in time to see my Aunt Fleur come over to us.
I watched her whole face light up and she swept Hermione into a squeal-filled hug of, "Hermione!" She laughed too as her fingers grasped around Aunt Fleur's long, light blonde hair.
"It's so good to see you Fleur!" she exclaimed, completely forgetting about my Father and I. "You look lovely! How are the children? Victorie, was her name?"
Ever since I can remember, Fleur has always held an eternal youth to her. She didn't get wrinkles and gray hairs like some of the other adults. In fact, some days—like today—she looked even prettier then I remembered.
"Oh, Hermione, zey're wonderful!" She's gotten a lot better at her English since I was little, but she still has her squabbles of accents; especially when she's excited or anxious. Aunt Fleur even speaks lots of French still—especially to Victore.
Finding myself somewhat uninterested in Aunt Fleur and Hermione's conversation, I felt my eyes waver over to the girl that still remained. She had the same glazed expression her brother had had just moments ago, except she was somehow different from him. Unlike him, I thought that she was kind of pretty and that her insanely bushy hair was just a side effect of the day's strange weather.
I was beginning to wonder if it was the weather that was making everyone act so strange when Dad silently took hold of my hand, and, with a seemingly permanent look of tranquility, began to lead me to the dinning room that was now a buzz with conversation and coos. The girl followed behind.
"Oh look at him!"
"He's cute as a button."
"Do you think he'll be in Gryffindor?"
"He'd better be!"
All filled the air as we gazed upon the clan of people hovering over Ron and his son. He was getting it worse then I was! People were literally begging to pinch his cheeks until they were rosy red and all asking him twenty questions at once. The others still seated at the table were more caught in their amusement then their own curiosity of the boy.
I vaguely remember hearing Dad snicker some before he cleared his throat. "Let the boy breathe, Molly!" he told Nana good-heartedly as she was in the midst of giving the boy a bone-crushing hug and kissing his cheek. I'm glad I have the pale Potter skin so I don't flush like that.
"Sorry," she mumbled, reluctantly letting her Grandson go, "Nana just loves her Grandchildren dearly."
I caught a glint at Teddy and saw that his hair was now blonde, his suddenly brown eyes winking at me. My cousin Molly was sitting up tall and straight in her seat, smiling broadly, and peaking over her Mother, Audrey, to get a good glimpse at the now confirmed Weasley. Dominique stabbed at her carrots with a sour expression painted across her face.
I glanced over to Mum and saw that she was trying to get to Ron and his child. Her fingers tapped on at least a dozen people and tiny feet nearly stepped on a dozen robes, but with much haste did she make it. "Ron!" she said breathlessly, hopping over Andromeda, who scurried out of the way at the last moment.
"Ginny!" he said like a big brother talking to his little sister, grabbing Mum and ruffling her hair with his fist before leading her into a tight embrace. He swung her back and fourth and growled joyfully, then kissed her cheek. "How's Harry been treating you then?" he asked, finally releasing her from his grip.
To say Mother was surprised would be an understatement. Not only was the hair she'd spent an hour or two on that mourning ruined for the most part, but also was her precious dress ruffled and in much less of the grand state it had been in only moments before.
"F-fine!" was all that spilled bitterly out of her lips after her brown eyes twitched once or twice. "He's been treating me fine, Ron." She seamed to calm her reddening ears and cheeks with the breath or two she'd taken. "You and Hermione?" she asked timidly.
Ron grinned broadly, "Well I'm sure you know that by this bloke right here," he patted Arthur on the head, making it look more like a clunk or two what with his blink and slight flinch. "You remember Arthur, don't you? And Hugo?" he motions to the smallers boy hiding from the crowd behind his Dad.
"Of course," said Dad, butting into the conversation, "How could we forget?" I could see that he was a bit more concerned with Mum's uneasiness, slightly peeking out of the corner of his eye at Hermione and Andromeda who were talking like two old friends meeting once again. "Where's Rose?"
"I'm right here," spoke Hermione's daughter, Rose. My Dad laughed and smiled at her knowingly before the others came to fondle over her as well.
I hadn't bothered to pay attention to the rest, as my full attention was now on Ronald Weasley. I knew that there were seven Wealsey children, since I'd figured out that Mum was the seventh of the seventh of the seventh when she'd casted a Patronus Charm some years ago on a Dementor to protect me. The dementor had given me a glimpse of a scene with my Mother in a frenzy of sadness and anger over the fact that she was the seventh of the seventh.
When I'd asked her about it, she'd simply scolded me and told me to forget about the dementors because they were back at Azkaban now. I didn't bother to ask Dad because Grandma Lily told me that he hadn't had such a pleasant encounter with dementors in his lifetime either.
I began to think about it when I realized that I only had five uncles: Uncle Bill, Uncle Charlie, Uncle Percy, and Uncle George. My Uncle Fred passed away when I was young at the end of the war, I'm told.
"Are you Mum's sister?" I blurted out of nowhere when Dad was in the middle of a sentence.
My Mother frowned. "James, you know better then to interrupt," she spoke chastisingly.
"Sure am, Jimmy," Ron said, completely ignoring his sister, who glared at him slightly. That meant that Molly's hunch about him being a Weasley was correct and that Arthur really was my cousin.
My Father, most likely seeing the tension present between the siblings looked about the room for a scapegoat and I watched as his eyes locked with Arthur's. "Hey, Arthur, you want to go and play with James up in his room while Hugo and I have some lunch?" he asked, his green eyes softening at the young boy.
Mum smiled proudly at Dad and all eyes turned to the young boy. He had a glazed, bored look in his eyes and square glasses like uncle Percy to cover them and make them look slightly more alert. Arthur's hair was as red as Grandmother Lily's and had the Weasley freckles to boot.
"Sure," he muttered disappointedly, I thought.
The eyes then turned to Rose. "Where is it?" she asked retorically.
I instinctively headed for the grand spiral staircase, not checking to see if Arthur was behind me or not. However, my suspicions were exceeded when a pair of feet quickly darted past mine and reached the fourth floor before myself. I gasped for breath as we had finished our silent race in sprint and I was wearing very heavy clothes in this heat, unlike him in his light summer robes.
I had to try hard to fight the glare that wanted to darken my features as he smiled teasingly at me. "Which room is yours?" he asked glancing down the long hallway of doors clammed tightly shut.
The third one on the right, I was about to respond, but my capability to utter sound was driven away from me when there was a loud calmer of what I thought to be much more ostentatious then needed to be from a boy who's father was second in command at the Auror department and just so happened to be Teddy's distantly related cousin by some means, Tom. He'd bumped into one of the corridor's pedestal and nearly knocked over one of the precious Black family heirlooms, causing the portraits of various prejudice members of the Black family that had been sealed many years ago to fervently rattle against the wall in their nearly inaudible cries of dismay. Luckily, however, Tom dove for the magical object and just barely managed to catch it and save the priceless treasure.
Behind me, Arthur jumped at all the sudden movement but I simply rolled my eyes. Typical Tom, I would have like to have told him, but I knew better and I didn't like to be a downer on the boy as he was my own age.
"Who are you?" demanded Arthur, stomping a foot in protest and moving in front of Rose as if to protect her.
Getting to his feet slowly, careful not t cause any more of a commotion, he replied, "Tom Black."
"His Mum was a Black," I interjected after turning my head to see Arthur about to protest about how inaccurate that would be or something like that, "but his Dad decided to give him the Black family crest." I mumbled just barely audible enough for Arthur to hear that, "It's just because he's family heir."
Arthur frowned. "Well, then who's his Mum? My parents have told me loads about the Black family and I've never once heard of anything so stupid before."
I was shocked. How could he say something like that? And what did Hermione and Ron know about the Blacks?
"Astraea is my Mother's name. It's the name of the Greek Deity for purity as in blood purity in the Black family," Tom said bluntly. I knew he was far from stupid and wouldn't let anything bad be said about his family, but was not expecting the remark about blood purity. He ran a finger through his silky black hair and smirked, as if challenging Arthur to doubt that.
"There is no Astraea in the Black family," snarled Arthur now glaring at Tom. I felt myself go uneasy as Tom glared back at him with his deep dark eyes in just as much loath. I've always found myself doing that whenever rows I had uncertainty about occurred.
I finally broke the glaring contest by suggesting that we go to my room and play some wizard's chess and that I had something to show them. I watched as both their aces lit up and Arthur raced behind Tom to my room, as he knew the house well. I didn't feel like walking in the heat as I was twice as sweaty as before and terribly thirsty, but followed them in a slow pace.
They already had the board set up and were setting up the pieces, muttering nasty things to one another in challenge. I sighed and decided to grab a book off of my shelf.
Even though our house had an extensive and lavish library, I insisted on having a large bookcase of my own in my room. Most of the books were muggle or about Quidditch, as most magical books startled me and I liked to read before I went to bed. I looked fondly at the bottom shelf were the children's books Mum and Dad used to read me sat, glancing mostly at the books in the Just William series, my favorite. Rose had already cracked open a book called Henry: The Dog With No Tail, which was also another good one, and busied herself by reading.
"Oi! Jimmy!" called Arthur. My head snapped in the direction of the pair, "You said you've got something to show us. What was it?"
Tom snorted, "He just wants to see it because I'm winning. Night to D4!" he ordered, his little black night coming to a square occupied by one of Arthur's white pawns. The night took his sward from its holder at his side and slashed the pawn twice, watching it crumble. Arthur glared at him and whipped the remains of his piece to the side with the rest.
I nodded. "Yeah, I do." I leap for my drawer and grabbed the photograph, smiling at the tiny moving people. "Look," I placed the picture in front of them.
Arthur squinted at the figures looking back at him and was about o say something when he noticed his parents. I watched as his breath caught in his throat and his finger traced his Mother. Rose, possibly noticing this as well, set the book down and crawled by the photograph.
"What is it?" I asked.
He looked away from me, trying hard to fight his flushing skin. "My parents," he said, "they look so happy. They're almost never that happy together."
I smiled sympathetically at him and remembered Hermione scolding Ronald for saying the word shangging around we kids. My parents quarreled, but in hushed tones and when they thought Lily Luna and I were out of sight.
Rose picked it up in her hands and glanced at it quickly before putting it down. "The baby in the bundle is you, Arthur," she explained and he again briskly glanced at the photo.
I noticed Tom looked unimpressed and he was about to say too until there was a loud knock at the door. We all jumped a little and I quickly attempted at shoving the picture in my coat pocket as the door creaked open.
Lily Luna was the first to poke her head in. Her rosy cheeks brightened and she ran towards my fumbling and I. "I wanna see!" she squealed happily.
"See what?" asked a pair of familiar voices. Victorie and Hermione sheepishly exchanged a glance and came towards us. Lucy, Louise, Molly, Dominique, Teddy, and a few others who had not been there before filed into my room.
Lily giggled. "Mummy and Daddy!" I reluctantly relinquished the photograph to my sister who hugged it to her chest, swaying back and forth as she did so.
Hermione laughed and bent down to her level. "May I see?" The others poked their heads behind her, most of whom knowing what Lily was holding.
She shyly handed the picture to Hermione and pointed to the wrapped bundle in my Mother's arms and told her, "Me!"
I felt myself tense and a tiny green monster crawl through me as Hermione looked at the picture admiringly. It was upon rarity that I ever got jealous, but it was still very hot, and I was growing increasingly uncomfortable. "Me," I told her pointedly.
"No, me!" Lily stomped her foot and huffed and I herd Tom and a few others stiffen giggles.
Hermione smiled and gently patted her head. "No sweetheart, its your brother. We'll find one with you later." Even though she pouted, I knew she was satisfied for the most part, as Lily stuck to messing with the little pieces on the chessboard to Tom's dismay.
Her head snapped suddenly to my bookshelf. "My Merlin…" she muttered, getting up in a trans and walking with even paced steps to my collection of books. I watched closely as her eyes darted from one shelf to another, scanning all the titles. Hermione laughed once or twice, but I wasn't sure why. "Quidditch books," she answered my confusion, "You're so much like your Father; you know that?" Her finger pulled out a book called James and the Giant Peach—one I hadn't read yet. "But muggle books? I didn't think you'd have any. There are very few wizards who still like the muggle ways of doing things now more then ever. But is suppose you get that from Harry as well." She smiled, "Too many bad happenings with books before."
"Are you famous?" asked Violet Finnigan, the daughter of my parent's old school friends Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnigan. She had huge and perky blue eyes as she waited for a reply.
Hermione flushed sheepishly and rubbed the back of her neck. "I suppose so…" she mumbled, "But I'm really just a Mummy like Lavender or Ginny." The others nodded knowingly and I noticed that she was still holding James and the Giant Peach.
Observant little Lucy must have too, because they she asked, "Are you going to read us a real muggle book?" Rose also nodded in excitement, her eyes lighting up a little, but not in quite the same way as Hermione's.
Hermione took the only clear spot on the bed and smiled at all the eyes now on her. "I could," she told them, "Do you want me to?"
"Yes!" chorused a few of us back to her.
The faint smell of an unopened book filled the enclosed room as her voice rang out amongst we children, "Until he was four years old, James Henry Trotter had had a happy life. He lived peacefully with his mother and father in a beautiful house beside the sea. There were always plenty of other children for him to play with, and there was the sandy beach for him to run about on, and the ocean to paddle in. It was the perfect life for a small boy."
My back was pressed up against the old wallpapered wall farthest from the door in my room. I'm told I reside in what used to be Regulu Black's room, but it didn't matter much to me back then. Lily Luna's long red hair was getting sticky on my face—she was leaning on my side, listening to the story—and I was growing increasingly annoyed by it, as my own hair was enough of a burden.
The lights on the ceiling looked to be coming out of focus on the edges and sent more heat down to me then I remembered, aside from the window that made my forehead plentiful with sweat.
"Then, one day, James's mother and father went to London to do some shopping, and there a terrible thing happened. Both of them suddenly got eaten up (in full daylight, mind you, and on a crowded street) by an enormous angry rhinoceros which had escaped from the London Zoo." Hermione's voice rolled on. A few of the girls gasped, but said nothing. Arthur's sister looked slightly saddened even through Arthur seemed to be showing only little interest.
My bum shifted uncomfortably in its spot, Lily Luna detaching her self from me and scowled in my direction at the discomfort she was now feeling. I fiddled unsuccessfully with the button on my cloak, which was now tied much to tightly around my neck for anyone's liking. My stomach ached from not eating and I desperately wished I hadn't abandoned the plate of soup I'd been given.
"Now this, as you can well imagine, was a rather nasty experience for two such gentle parents. But in the long run it was far nastier for James then it was for them. Their troubles were all over in a jiffy. They were dead and gone in thirty-five seconds flat. Poor James on the other hand, was still very much alive, and all at once he found himself alone and frightened in a vast unfriendly world. The lovely house by the seaside had to be sold immediately, and the little boy, carrying nothing but a small suitcase containing a pair of pajamas and a toothbrush, was sent away to live with his two aunts."
"Water," whined Lily as her soft hand tugged at my robes. Her green eyes were glossed over and lips capped, only making her innocence widen and my refusal to comply all the more hard to make. I looked down on her in pity and began to rise.
I found my ears unable to part from the story, but my back pressed up against the wall in an attempt to keep me from falling back down. My hands miserably looked for some kind of support, settling for the windowsill. Teddy and Tom were eyeing me closely, but I didn't have time. I was a boy on a mission—a noble night seeking a rejuvenating beverage for his even nobler younger sister—and I wasn't about to let a migraine and inability to walk properly stop me.
With every ounce of strength I could muster up, I staggered to the door, nearly tripping over Molly's feet as I hopped the last twenty centimeters on one foot, stumbling over to myself to get to the door. It was only until then that I noticed that the reading had stopped.
"Jimmy?"
I whipped my head around to find the book closed over Hermione's hands and the rest of the eyes in the room on me. "Water," I told them, "Lily Luna wants some water."
The world around me was a black clotted haze as I turned back towards the door. Although I did it in less then 2 seconds, the dizziness I found myself in a state of made it feel like a decade. Then came the insufferable sound of the doorknob wriggling because of someone trying to get in on the other side that blasted through my ears.
I barely had any time to see my Father's face before I blacked out. When I woke up ten minutes later, they told me I'd fainted, I was not surprised.
A Note From the Author: Another chapter, another hope for another review. I hope you all do read the story and choose to review! I know it was much longer than the last, but the first chapter is usually shorter than all of the rest.
Please notice: this story has been beta edited by the lovely XTimeGirlX. Thank you, and please credit her in your reviews if you are going to praise for the story's grammar or proper spellings.