James tossed in the bed before sitting up, glaring around trying to find the sound that had woken him up. His gaze zeroed in on the door and he untangled himself from the sheets and stood up, ignoring the grumbling that arose from the bed due to his absence. He padded over to the door and opened it, blearily peered out into the sitting room, looking around for the source of the tapping.
"Harry."
James's eyes widened as he focused on the sound of the voice, a smile slowly blossoming across his face as he spied a familiar form.
"Jayal!"
"Shh!" the older man admonished, and James soundlessly closed the door to the bedroom behind himself as he stepped farther into the sitting room.
"There are soundproofing charms on the door, not that you didn't already know that, breaking through them like that." James mock glared at his mentor, before letting loose a dazzling smile. "You're here! I thought you said you wouldn't visit while Albus was alive and well."
"Yes, well, while he may be alive he is certainly not well. I don't suppose you've heard, being all cooped up in here, but he collapsed not long after you left Hogsmeade. They're trying to keep it under wraps so not many know."
"I'll refrain from asking how you know, then," James said drily.
This time is was Jayal who grinned. "So how have you been, Harry? Partners with the Dark Lord, how's it treating you?"
"Everything has been working out smoothly enough, you can tell that from the fact that Longbottom is dead."
"I thought that looked like your work."
James beamed in pride. "Marvolo is the one responsible for Dumbledore's sudden turn in condition."
"Give me some credit, Harry," Jayal scoffed.
James frowned a bit. "You are the only one who still calls me that."
"And I always will. I'm not about to let you forget who you are."
"I know who I am! Do you think my name means nothing to me? 'James' for my father and 'Evans' for my mother. I don't need that pathetic surname, a legacy of fools who couldn't see beyond the 'light' told them."
"Harry…"
"It's nothing." James calmed himself instantly, face suddenly void of all emotion. "You'll be here in the morning, no?"
"I came to visit, I can hardly leave before greeting the master of the house and the Dark Lord."
"Then you'll excuse me while I go back to sleep. You can use that bedroom over there, it hasn't been touched." James stood from where he'd been perching on the settee. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight Harry." Jayal's quiet words followed James back into the bedroom, filtering in just before he closed the door on his mentor. He moved soundlessly back to the bed and settled back into the now cool sheets.
James awoke for the second time to sunlight somehow filtering in through the thick curtains and dark eyes staring at him. He turned to look at Marvolo and smiled, noting that his lover looked as if he'd just woken up as well.
"We had a visitor last night." Marvolo didn't question it, his words were a statement.
"Jayal," was all James said by way of explanation.
Marvolo nodded in understanding, having heard all about Jayal from James. "He's still here?"
"In the second bedroom."
Marvolo nodded again and got out of bed, heading off into the bathroom to shower. By the time he was done James was dressed and pecked him on the cheek before leaving the room and heading towards the other bedroom. While he dressed he ignored the muffled explosions that seemed to emanate from nearby and was completely unsurprised to find James smiling mischievously in the sitting room when he was fully clothed.
"He'll be out soon enough, let us head for breakfast."
They made it to the Dining Hall in companionable silence, reaching just as the elder Malfoys were making their way in, Draco preferring to sleep late. The four chatted and served themselves food, all the while James was counting down in his head to the moment Jayal would appear.
The man didn't disappoint. It was quite sudden that the doors to the Dining Hall slammed open, shocking the two Malfoys and causing them to jumo slightly in their seats.
"Harry James Potter! How dare you make my bed explode and then leave me to find my way through this manor on my own!"
Suffice to say that subtlety had never been one of Jayal's chief traits. James merely waved away his mentor's explosive outburst and gestured towards the seat beside him.
"You found us easily enough, now sit down an eat with us."
Lucius Malfoy could only sit dumbstruck, gaze switching between Jayal and James in complete incomprehension.
It was Narcissa that gathered herself first among the pair. "How do you do, Mister…?"
"Jayal Du. Please forgive me for seemingly barging in on your breakfast, Mrs. Malfoy."
"He got here in the middle of the night," James said by way of explanation.
"Ah, so this is your father, James!" Narcissa sounded positively delighted and her words seemed to finally bring Lucius from his stupor, causing him to instead look Jayal over with a critical eye.
"I must confess that although I am not entirely responsible," Jayal began, shooting a glare at James, "I would like to apologize about the mess in the room that I occupied last night."
"Don't worry about it, I'm sure the house elves have already taken care of what it was," Narcissa said dismissively.
"Yes, they are quite efficient," Lucius added, finally taking part in the conversation. "In any case, welcome to our home, Mr. Du. You must forgive me for not immediately greeting you, I was a bit…shocked by your entrance."
James sighed and shook his head slightly, a grin tugging at his lips as he listened to Lucius.
"Please Mr. Malfoy, do call me Jayal."
"Only if you call me Lucius," that worthy shot back, a pleasant smile decorating his face.
"Of course."
"Well then, Jayal, if you might indulge me I was wondering about your words upon entering the hall. More specifically, I was wondering who you were referring to. To the best of my knowledge the Potter line has died out."
Jayal's eyes widened in shock. "You haven't told them?" he asked, turning to James.
"I didn't feel it was necessary," James said, shrugging slightly.
Lucius opened his mouth to ask another question, but was cut off by Jayal. "What James has neglected to inform you of is that he is in fact Harry James Potter."
"You're…but the Potters…you're partnered with the Dark Lord!" Lucius managed, somewhat incoherently.
"Very astute observation there, Lucius," Marvolo observed drily.
"See, this just brings about unneeded complications. That's why I refrained from informing anyone."
"But don't you want people to know who you are?"
"No, Jayal, because they already know who I am. They know me as the person I've strived to be rather than as that poor little Potter orphan. I wouldn't be half of what I am today if I had grown up as Harry Potter."
Lucius's jaw closed with an audible click as James's words and the table fell into silence as they mulled over what had been said. The only exceptions were James and Marvolo who simply ate as if nothing at all had happened. It wasn't long until James set down his knife and fork and pushed his chair back from the table.
"I think it's time I went and visited Albus. After all, I intend to enlighten him on some matters before he passes on."
Marvolo nodded and James swept from the table and out of the Dining Hall, heading for the front entrance from which he'd be able to apparate. Soon enough he was standing outside of the Hogwarts gates and he gaze across the empty grounds before pushing the gate open. He encountered no one as he walked up to the castle, the students all having returned home by this point. However it seemed that the teachers were busy elsewhere, for the castle felt truly abandoned due to the utter lack of noises and movement.
It didn't take long for James to have arrived at the stone gargoyle which guarded Dumbledore's office, the creature jumping aside silently as he neared it. He walked straight through Dumbledore's office and into his private chambers, somehow unerringly finding the headmaster's bedroom. As he pushed the door open he couldn't help but stare at the still figure on the bed in accomplishment, for even though it hadn't been his curse that had caused the man such damage, he had been a participant in its panning.
"Are you just going to stand there?" Dumbledore asked, voice somewhat weak and hoarse from coughing.
James stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, making his way close enough to the bed so that he could monitor the old man's movements and expressions. "You aren't dead yet, then. Well, it won't be long now," he said icily.
"I always knew I had to be careful with you," the old man said sadly, yet as calm as ever. "Tell me, have you come to finish the deed?"
"Not just yet, I thought you might appreciate a story first."
Dumbledore laughed humorlessly. "Alright, a tale before you lead me to my death."
James's returning smile was just as humorless as he began his tale. "About sixteen years ago there was a baby boy. It was just after his first birthday that his parents, hoping to keep him safe and away from Voldemort's clutches, left his at an orphanage in the outskirts of London. They had heard a prophecy and were convinced this was to the only way to keep their child safe, to keep him away from the war as they fought against Voldemort."
Dumbledore was frowning, already beginning to see where this might lead.
"It was but days after this act that the two were killed in an enemy raid, the husband trying to protect his wife, the wife fighting the man who'd killed her husband. Some even say it was Voldemort himself that finished them off, but that part is mere speculation. And so, with those two dead, people began to wonder what had happened to their child. There was only one person apart from the two who knew, and he kept quiet, hoping that the child would be safe in the orphanage. You were that person, Albus."
Dumbledore looked deeply confused as to why James was telling him this. "James…"
"I'm not done, you'll have to wait. Now, as magical children are prone to do, this child caused a bout of accidental magic, setting the drapes in his nursery on fire. The fire quickly spread to the whole building and people thought only of escaping, forgetting that there was a recently acquired baby in the third floor nursery. However, as luck would have it there was a wizard nearby at the time and, having sensed the accidental magic, he apparated into the nursery in time to save the baby from the advancing flames.
"With the baby safely in his arms, the man apparated back to his home at a small magic school in Luxembourg. The man, Jayal, happened to be a teacher at this school and so he decided to bring the boy up there, learning as he grew up." James paused and looked down at Dumbledore expectantly, having seen how the man paled when he'd mentioned Jayal. However, when nothing was said, James moved on with his story. "And so years passed until the child's seventh birthday, when Jayal deemed him old enough to know what had happened to his parents.
"That was when the child realized that his parents had died fighting for a pointless cause, for it was clear even to him that the Dark Lord would eventually prevail. He vowed to grow stronger and get revenge on those who caused his parents' deaths, and he began by throwing away his given name, one that associated him with those he'd sworn to destroy. At seven years of age, Harry Potter discarded his name and instead began to go by James Evans."
Dumbledore lay rigid with shock, staring at James as if he has never seen him before.
"Do you get it now, Albus? I, the child you thought you were protecting, have been against you from the day I turned seven, knowing that you were the reason my parents were dead. And since then I've grown. It was later that very year that I first killed someone, albeit unintentionally. I attained my mastery level qualifications at the age of fourteen, the proof of which I wear as a tattoo upon my wrist. I had already given Richard his first leg up in the French Ministry by fifteen and it wasn't long before I caught the Dark Lord's eye. Suffice to say we've been close ever since."
"Do understand now? It was I that planned Longbottom's death, the very person you'd employed to teach that him to survive. And look at you now: cursed by a fake hallow and at death's door by the child you'd thought you were protecting, the one you'd thought was long dead. Tell me Albus, do you have anything to say?"
Dumbledore stared at James with sad eyes, but words seemed to have failed him for he lay there silently.
"Well, I suppose it's time to finish all this, then." James never took his eyes from the old man as he raised his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore's heart. "Goodbye, Albus. Avada Kedavra." He said the words calmly, and stood still, watching as Dumbledore sank into the bed as if he were asleep.
James didn't know quite how long he stood there after that, simply staring at Dumbledore's body, but eventually he came to his sense and left the room. He once more made his way through the private quarters and office, down the staircase and past the stone gargoyle, all the while replaying what had just transpired in his mind.
"Is it done?" asked a voice and James realized that he'd unconsciously walked to his quarters. He went and gathered Wyn up in his arms, holding her close.
"Yes, they're both dead." And with that it finally sunk in that they'd won this war. That no matter the resistance beyond this point, they had won. A smile made its way across James's face at that thought.
"It's time for us to go," he said and waved his wand. He watched as everything began packing itself into various trunks and soon enough that was all there was left of his rooms. He cast shrinking and featherweight charms over the trunks and pocketed them, eternally grateful for such usefull spells.
He left his rooms and quietly made his way through the school, still without having encountered anyone. It wasn't long before he had left the Entrance Hall and made his way across the grounds, stopping just inside the gates. It was here that he turned around and surveyed the school from, and he stood there for a moment just looking at the picture it made. Then he turned around, stepped outside the gates, and disapparated.
*Du is Welsh for black. I thought I would keep up the trend since I named Wyn, well…Wyn. Just in case someone gets the idea in their head, he is no relation to the Black family in England.
A/N: Alright, I think it's safe to say that this is the second to last chapter, that the next will definitely be the last. Thank you for sticking with me this far, and, as always, thank you for all the wonderful reviews.