Chapter 2

"Watch it! Watch it!" James cursed a few profanities as he ducked a wayward conjured blade from decapitating his head. He snarled as he sent a glare at his pseudo-brother. "Pads! What did I say about being trigger happy?!"

"Excusez-moi! But I'm terribly occupied here! Who cares!" Sirius yelled back as he slashed his opponent. He was surrounded by his attackers and Sirius was more than happy to amend that. One hand was barraging with slashing and shooting spells while the other held his long blade. Sirius foes were dropping like flies.

James growled. What was a simple mission ended becoming a major disaster. All because the target was throwing a huge hissy-fit and Sirius becoming a nutcase while fighting. Perfect! What else could go wrong?

James looked up when he saw an explosive coming at him. "Ah shit!"

James jumped aside as the ground behind him exploded.

. . . . . . .

Sirius whistled merrily as he strolled towards James's study. In his hands are two envelopes and a bottle of the finest scotch, a gift for the mission completed.

When he entered the study, he stopped short. "Starting our celebratory drink without me? I'm hurt!" said Sirius, pouting. James snorted as he lowered his glass of firewhiskey.

"Says the bloke who has no problem starting without me all the time," said James softly.

Sirius eyes rolled and he put the bottle of scotch on the table, then waved his wand and the room brighten. "You're not one to usually brood while looking out the window," Sirius pointed out as he walked towards James and leaned beside him. "What's on your mind?"

James didn't reply. Instead, he threw a rumpled letter at Sirius. "Dumbledore again?" Sirius guessed as he caught the paper.

"He's persistent, I give him that. But damn, he is bloody annoying," said James scowling.

"Is this about Harry being hailed as The Boy Who Lived?" asked Sirius matter-of-factly, after he read the letter. Sirius frowned at Dumbledore's subtle persistency.

James groaned hearing that blasted title. Just at the mention of it gave him an inducing headache. Why Dumbledore and The Ministry wanted to slapped his son with that moniker he has no idea. It was ridiculous from the way he sees it. Dumbledore had speculated that since Harry was the only one breathing in that room, then he has somehow been the doing responsible for Voldermort's downfall.

To James, it makes no sense giving his son such title just because he survived that night. It was very suspicious when Dumbledore insist that Harry was henceforth known with that title. Well, he couldn't do a thing about it since The Ministry had spread the news and within the hour, all of Britain knew of Harry's name!

"More than that. The old man has gone off his rockers. He keeps saying that Harry need to be protected. As if I couldn't take care of my own son," James grumbled sourly.

Sirius eyes widened and he stared at James incredulously. "That is a serious accusation. James, what happen right after I left?"

James sighed as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Nothing but the usual protocol, Padfoot. The DMLEs swarm by and they did a thorough investigation paying close attention to the nursery, Dumbledore did his thing and next thing I knew, he pronounce Harry with that bloody honorific. Afterwards, he tried to talk to me about some sacrifice that has something to do with Lily and was saying something about Harry raising somewhere else."

"What?!" Sirius exclaimed deafeningly. "You're joking!"

"That was my reaction too, until he has the cheek to insist on it. I didn't take it too well. Nearly dissipate what's left of the house too," James replied seriously.

Nearly dissipate the house?! Sirius exclaimed in his head. That means James was bloody livid! Sirius inwardly shuddered. He was still weary of James' temper ever since he had been at the receiving end of it when he was in school. It wasn't his proudest moments and he was going through a dark time. What the public doesn't know is that The Potters is terrifying once they get truly furious. They didn't pitch a fit or yell in temper tantrum. No, their fury is equal to a cold fury; they are controlled, wordless, but their magic cracks wildly around them just beneath their skin. If James said he nearly dissipates the house; that means his fury was in a whole new level.

Sirius slumped against the wall, stunned. He had heard about the aftermath of that night but James didn't tell him about his talk with Dumbledore. And considering James had been bereaved, he didn't question him intensely. Now, he wished he had. For Dumbledore to insinuate that far was galling! The insult was enough ground to call for a blood feud. It's a wonder James didn't already.

"Is that what all his letters about? To persuade you to see reason?" Sirius muttered distractedly.

James snickered. "No, it's about other matter entirely. His letters are mostly coincides with the ministry. Various establishments are getting fined and it's getting pretty hefty," said James smirking. "Dumbledore was hoping for a leniency."

"What did you do?" asked Sirius suspiciously.

"I didn't do anything. I simply remind them why it was unwise to cross a Potter. I put a stop to all those Boy-Who-Lived crap."

Sirius grumbled incoherently, pouting at his sworn brother. James looks like his birthday comes early. His eyes were shining with mischievous delight and were grinning widely. If Sirius didn't know any better, he would think that James finally got his hand on a present that he always wanted. "Prongs, come on, details! You're killing me here. What did you do?" Sirius whined.

James shrugged, grinning smugly. "Any publication about and in regards to Harry is to go through me first. Any franchise or merchandise of Harry is not allowed. All I did was short of banning the title."

Sirius blinked. "And the fine?"

"A hefty sum deducted for every unauthorized publication and a lawsuit for any illegal merchandise and slander," came the casual reply.

Sirius tilted his head aside, frowning thoughtfully. Such actions are the same as making the ridiculous title nonexistence. James had them in an iron grip. However, the publicity of Harry's fame will not be so easily distinguished. If James dealt the cards right, then he could use it in his favour. James knew this. "So basically, you're just ensuring that your son publicity is controlled?"

"Indeed," said James nodding once.

"Then what is the problem with The Ministry if Dumbledore had to interfere on their behalf?" asked Sirius in confusion.

"Because I made the sums different for every stage of offence. I state an amount for the first offence. Second offence; doubled the amount, third offence; triple the amount. And it'll continue in that manner subsequently."

Sirius eyes widened and he secretly gaped. That was harsh. "So unless they learn their lesson, you'll make them go bankrupt."

"Exactly," James confirmed smirking.

Sirius snorted, shaking his head. "Frankly I'm surprise that's all you did," said Sirius truthfully. "I was expecting more of a curse or jinx involved."

James waved Sirius off flippantly. "Too much work. They aren't worth my time."

Sirius hummed distractedly. There was just something familiar about that method that James' applied but he can't place them at the moment. In the end, Sirius shrugged and went and pours himself a glass. Once that was done, he summoned a chair and joined James beside him.

"How's Harry," Sirius inquired as he sip his drink. "Did you do that cleansing ritual you were telling me about?"

"I did and it's a good thing that I did," said James darkly. His eyes turned cold and his face was scowling something fierce. Every time his thought strayed to that unholy magic that was his son's scar, it never failed to make him snarl and his blood boiled. "That – that leech would have hindered Harry... it was also... By Magick!" James swears in frustration as he hand ran through his hair, making it messier than ever. "The fact that he was using such vile magic makes my stomach turn."

"What was it? A Horcrux as we suspected?" Sirius asked casually.

"No. Thank the Lady for that," said James sighing in relief. "But it by no means less dangerous. The fail killing curse residue on the scar was so saturated that it instead becomes another dark curse that would have kill its victim eventually. It was siphoning his life essence, making him ill and giving out phantom pains that were nothing short of Cruciatus. It will also cause the victim to be shrouded in negative energy," James shook his head sadly. "Had I not get rid of it, Harry would have grown up weak."

Sirius had sat wide eyed as James explains the curse. He stiffened when James told him the last sentence and had to force himself tremendously to calm down. "Nasty," Sirius murmured detestably. "I have never heard of such curse."

"You shouldn't. The curse was nameless. It was design to wipe out the victim without anyone none the wiser. Very subtle. The worst people will think that the person has ill health," James explained.

"Then how did you come by it?"

James face fell, looking dejected. He stared forlornly out the window. "It was known to my family. The usage of this curse was actually more common than you think. We have records of the same curse used against my family by their enemies a number of times. The intention was to extermination the whole clan."

"So it's a clan execution curse?"

"I wouldn't go that far," said James smiling amused at the name that was given.

"Somehow, it doesn't sound dark enough to be classified as a dark curse. It came out like a harmless hex to me," said Sirius sounding incredulous.

James snorted undignified. "Only you Black would say such methods as a harmless hex!" James exclaimed dryly. "Well, it was subtle enough I supposed."

They sat comfortable silence afterward. Each of them lost in their own thoughts. Now that the moon was high and it illuminate brightly, Sirius turned slightly towards James, and his eyebrow rose.

Sirius gently tugged the black sleeve of James' attire. He was dressed head to toe purely in black – a symbol of mourning. Sirius mentally frowned. "You're still grieving?"

"Lily was my light for so long," said James softly. "She was my everything."

Sirius briefly shut his eyes, feeling troubled. He was not going to enjoy what he was about to say. While James is within his right to mourn his dearly beloved wife, Lily has been gone for more than a year. "James, not to be indelicate, but your son will need a mother."

James stiffened and he suddenly turns his furious eyes at his best friend. Sirius didn't back down and coolly return his gaze. They both exchange hard – and from James, cold – looks, without words.

"James, I'm not saying this for Society's expectation, I'm saying this for Harry's sake. He is still so very young. He will need a mother's touch," Sirius repeated firmly.

James continues to glare stubbornly at Sirius. After a while, his shoulder slump and his face dejected. Lowering his eyes, he finally said, "I'll consider. But I make no promises."

Sirius nodded. "That's all I ask, Prongs."

. . . . . . .

James look around the room, triple checking everything to make sure all was in order. He was in a concealed room; the room was bare of any furniture with only a huge stone circles in the middle of the room, runes were engrave on the walls along with a few mounted torches – making the room looks more like a temple. There were no windows in the room whatsoever. The only way in and out of the room was by a door and any source of light was by way of torches. The stone circles were structured into three multiple circular stones with patterns connecting to the smallest centre circle. That middle circle if needed can rise into a stone stand. Surrounding the stone circle, stood four columns.

James placed Harry in the middle of the stone circle, deep in an enchanted sleep. He was about to do the cleansing ritual to be rid of the tainted magic on that scar as well as the scar itself.

He had perused numerous books on how to be rid of that saturated magic on Harry's scar and it irks him to find out that modern healing spell might not be enough to combat such ill-intend magic, it needed an age old ritual. James starts chanting. The magic that was around him began to dance wildly. The runes on the wall were slowly shining brighter as with the runes James had painstakingly painted on the floor surrounding the outer circle for this ritual. Wind was slowly picking up around him but James was paid no mind; his focus was on his chant and on Harry.

Harry's scar had beginning to bleed. The saturate magic on that scar beginning to oozed out and condensed the area around the scar like a black red mist. James chant becomes stronger and deeper. As his magic grew, so did the magic in the scar; aggressively trying to latch on. James won't allow it.

But before he could complete the ritual, something interrupted him, causing James to gasped and stopped abruptly as bright light illuminate the room, temporarily blinded him. A force blew him out of the circle landing him in heap on the floor.

"My, my, such a twisted little magic. I haven't had a delicious offering in centuries."

Offering? What offering? James mentally voiced as he shakily stood and he immediately stiffened. Colour drained from his face at the sight that greeted him.

Harry was awake and was being a curious little thing, looking up at the person holding him and grabbing whatever that caught his fancy. What makes James on alert was that his son was being held by an unknown man. Said man had Harry sitting casually on his lap as he played with Harry who was very interested with the man's hand. James had to will himself not to cry out as the man's painted nails looks very sharp.

As for the man itself, he was tall, had a sharp built, sleek black hair, hazel eyes and pale skin. He wore black armour over black pants and shirt as far as James can make out. He carries himself arrogantly if the mocking smirk was anything to go by.

"Who are you?" James inquired rigidly. "And how did you get here?"

The stranger snickered. "Wizard. Always think they are the chosen. Tisk tisk." The man remarked tauntingly and James found himself bristling with indignation.

The man smiled sharply at James. "Have you forgotten me, little James. I used to watch over you."

James frowned at that. He knew that growing up, only Irena was his caretaker. No one else. However, his father often told him when he was young that there are others that watch over their family. A guardian his father said. Realization flickered on his eyes. It dawned to him just who that was sitting casually before him. "You're... Are you him? You're the spirit guardian rumoured to watch over my family?"

"How mean!" The man exclaimed in mock-sadness. "You've forgotten all about me!" The man had the decency to pout. "Ah! You were cuter when you were little. All the times you played with me, sometimes seek me out... The stories I could tell..."

James was gobsmacked. He was gaping like a loon! He has absolutely no idea what the man was talking about. Still, he noted that the stranger hadn't denied his suspicious. "You haven't answered my questions."

The spirit glances at James pointedly. "Why ask questions in which you already subconsciously know the answer."

"So you are the spirit my father was telling me about," James mumbled lightly, trying to comprehend in full the implication behind the spirit's words. "Fine. At least tell me why you are here. You don't actively appear before us or leave the unseeing realm casually."

"I want to see little James again. Isn't that enough?"

James was visibly bristling with anger. The spirit was not taking him seriously! "Don't mock me. You stop appearing to me after I turn five and your intentions are questionable and fickle at best," said James, harshly. He then stops short, suddenly remembering that he did indeed see the spirit briefly only a couple of times! The instant appearance is hardly enough time for James to remember them. "I thought you were my imagination."

Well that and among other things. His father, Charlus had promoted the idea. Whenever James told him that he thought he'd seen the man with impressive armour, Charlus told him it was just his childish imagination. The first time James had seen the spirit was when he was in mortal peril. He didn't remember the details except that someone was guarding him, shielding him from all the danger. The other time he saw the spirit was when he was very, very ill. He was in an extreme high fever and one time he jolted awake at night and saw the same spirit sat vigilant by his side. The spirit soothed him, patting his hot and damp hair and telling him stories until he had slipped back to sleep. His father had told him that it was all a dream! Ever since then, he never saw the spirit again, so he had forgotten all about it.

"Che. Really not cute. You have become boring, little James."

"Spirit..." James uttered warningly. His patience was waning rapidly.

"Ah! I want little James back."

"Spirit!" James snapped, at wits end.

The next thing James knew, his body was frozen as if in a body bind with the spirit finger touching his forehead. James blinked. He must have move closer unnoticed and the spirit was no longer smiling. In fact, his eyes seem to be glowing dangerously.

"You are not amusing little James," said the spirit firmly. "You know it's unwise to anger an otherworldly being like me. And I am holding your son." James eyes widened and his heart dropped. "Shall I demonstrate what I'm capable of?"

James' jaw clenched. He glared at the insufferable spirit for all he was worth, conveying with his eyes of 'Don't you dare.'

The Spirit smiled condescendingly. He shifted his attention to the toddler and James find himself able to move again.

"To answer your question," the spirit voiced suddenly. "I find myself piss off. I am not amused with the way things are and am particularly vexed with the people of power in your world," the spirit explained steely.

"You knew the tidings of the Wizarding world?" James intoned derisively.

"Of course I knew. I have never stopped watching over this family."

James stood mutely as he watched the spirit, his eyes slightly dazed as he visited certain memories triggered by the previous sentence. "Then why not give aid sooner?" James whispered lowly.

"I have no obligation to that world, little James, only to this family. I wouldn't care if that world went extinct tomorrow."

"Stop calling me little James, and I meant with my wife," James emphasized.

The spirit was silenced for a few moments, contemplating his answer carefully. His eyes bore into James and the man in question met the spirit's gaze head on.

"Lily was without her ring that night," the spirit began his reasoning, he silenced James with his forefinger when he was about to interrupt, looking at him pointedly. "Without the ring, her presence to me was very vague, almost like being at the corner of my sight. She was not my priority then," the spirit sighed when James was about to interrupt again. "I know about being included into the family once married and all that but my main duty is to the blood family alone."

"But, she..."

"When she took off the ring, my protection for her was nonexistence. Without the ring, my link to her was inactive. I didn't know of her fate until it was too late."

James's jaw clenched. He wanted so much to say something. But the words are stuck in his throat. James finally sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed a headache relief potion! "You are not one to present yourself so blatantly for a long period of time. What change?"

"This little scar," said the spirit, running his hand lightly over it.

"What about that scar?"

"This little scar is a work of art. There is a part of the caster imbued in it and it drew me," said the spirit nonchalantly.

"So my son is a Horcrux?" James exclaimed horrified.

"Horcrux," the spirit hums airily. "Hmm... No. Though that was the intended intention," the spirit then hold Harry firmly in one hand and tilted Harry's head by the other, smiling menacingly and gazing at the scar hungrily. "Now if you excuse me, I'll help myself to this delectable morsel." Without further ado, he bent his head. James watched in frozen horror as the spirit kiss the scar and literally sucked the tainted magic out of his son.

Once the deed is done, the spirit moved his head slightly, resting his cheek on top of Harry's. His expression was that of euphoria after a fulfilling meal. After checking the boy over, the spirit ran his hand over the babe teasingly and little Harry giggled in delight. The spirit smirked. "Don't worry, Little Prince. No one will dare harm you again. As long as I am by your side, no one can touch you."

Harry clapped his hands happily, before letting out a wide yawned, and rubbed his eyes drowsily. The spirit handed Harry to James and James holds Harry protectively. He gave his son a once over and noticed that while the scar was still there, it wasn't as pronounce as before. And James was relieved to feel no residue on his son.

"Listen well Lord James Potter," said the spirit sternly, his eyes hard and once again glowing at James. "The clan's survival is paramount above all else. The family's legacy must never die out. No matter how turbulent their lives are or the odds against them, The Potters always prevail. Failure to do so is an insult to your predecessors, especially to him," the spirit trailed looking momentarily far away. He continued. "I am not blind to the growing forces working against you nor will I ignore those who dare threaten this family. With everything happening so spectacularly," here the spirit sneered in disdain, "It's time for drastic measures."

James listened to the advice given quietly. He is not a fool to disregard the spirit, especially a spirit that has been guarding his family! James nodded.

"You will uphold your duty as a Lord to the utmost capability and ensure your heir's protection as well as expend the family's wealth and influence."

James' eyes narrowed, feeling a little miffed. The spirit doesn't have to chide him so; he has every intention to continue a certain family business.

James blinked and looked around wildly. He was alone without warning and the spirit was nowhere in sight. His voice echoed throughout the room, "When the time comes, I will return."

James looked around, bewildered. He patted little Harry who was sleeping soundly on his shoulder, wondering what just happened.

Looking towards the circle one last time, James left the room and sealed them on his way out. As he walked away, he can't help wondering the meaning behind the parting remark.

. . . . . . .

Review on your way out.

-Elvina P.