How long has it been since the girls were abducted? More than twenty-four hours. So much. And so little. For so many things happened since.
He was sat in his own living room, silent, completely spent.
Why take the photographs? There was no question in James' mind as to who had done it, that was patently clear.
He probably ought to get up, find Malfoy, then go to the Ministry, as they had agreed.
Or just to grab the bloody broomstick and come what may.
If it means instant death, he may not turn it down now.
But then who would make the monster pay?
Malfoy, of course, who else?! If only he survives this exhausting game they are forced to play…
Although – let him drink this bizarre potion that affected his mate like it was a Time-Turner: James felt as though the potion had taken them back in time, when he and Malfoy were not yet friends.
And what if the broomstick is a portkey? What if it takes him to the place where the girls were kept?
James got to his feet and headed for the broomstick that he adored. Would it really put him in harm's way now?
"Don't even think about it," strong fingers practically dug into his elbow. He looked up at Theodic – the healer was shaking his head. "Don't do anything stupid."
He could have broken free; he could have yelled; maybe even taken out his wand – after all, what right has this Mancilli to stop him?! It is his wife, his baby, his sister…
He headed, deflated, back to his chair. Must be that potion that he drank without even asking Theo what it was…
Some apathy that he could not shake off. He knew that he was too worn out, despite not having accomplished anything; he was no closer to them.
Getting up. Going to Malfoy. Going to the Ministry. Doing something, anything…
And this damn broomstick, that seemed to be betraying him.
And the photographs. Why?!
Merlin, just don't let them come to any harm!
What for? What past actions of theirs are they paying for now…?
Of course, it was Malfoy, but James had long ceased to separate himself from his friend. Scorpius' mistakes had always been their joint mistakes.
Because he hardly ever stopped him. He knew it all, but took it for granted.
When had it happened? When and how did Malfoy produce their current adversary?
When had they ignored it…?!
Of course, he could have pettily blamed Scorpius, but even in his current state it was clear to James that this was their common misfortune, their common folly.
James buried his burning face in his hands and propped his elbows on his knees. He frantically tried to recall their past.
People. Actions. Pranks.
There had been so many!
For which moment of their wild youth were their wives now paying the price? And could they have known that for those brief moments of laughter and amusement, sarcasm or gloating they would pay in full – with hours of suffering, fear and uncertainty.
With hour of icy terror flaming in their chests.
This terror was burning James from the inside, making his blood run cold, causing his heart to race and halt by turns.
What had they done in these eons-long twenty-four hours?
They went to the Zabini's; to Scorpius and Lily's flat… The flat that had been destroyed with the house elf trapped inside. They were at the Ministry. They were at the MacLaggen-Gregory's.
Now Parkinson. The Ministry. And the long list of those, at whom Malfoy had even so much as looked the wrong way.
A very long list.
Whom could James remember?
Of course, Priscilla Zabini. And the Zabini brothers. But they had already covered that angle.
Gregory. He just wasn't capable. Or likely.
Liana, but they saw her. With Gregory. They'd found each other. At another time, he might be moved to ironize over this.
Parkinson. Gregory went to see him.
Mark Flint. What of him? Anything, really. They were roommates for seven years. Yet, he was such a quite bloke, almost invisible…
Avery. Well, they used each other per mutual consent.
Emily Dawlish. For Fritz, for indifference and mockery. For games, Slytherin-style. But that was so long ago, and all over. Same with Parma Parkinson.
Who else?
Louise. What has become of her? Where is she now? Does she remember Scorpius, who toyed with her for so long?
Elizabeth Gray. She had reasons for revenge not only on Scorpius, but on James, too. Yet, that kiss had been avenged already…
Linda. He didn't remember the surname. Well, yes, she had wanted to get back at them back in school, but didn't get a chance. Still, to wait so long…
Malfoy's first-time girl, whose name James had never learned and, judging by his scant account, neither had Scorpius. What was there to hold a grudge over?
Li… Lizette, a French girl, Malfoy's companion at the Yule Ball…
A First-Year, whom Malfoy gave a fake Dark Mark. A silly prank, of course. What was his name? Oh yeah, Marcus…
Who knew that killing Dong would cause Scorpius pain?
Who could have destroyed his flat? Destroyed everything he owned...
"Pictures…," James whispered, straightening up. Uncle Ron, who was sat across from him, also being given some potion by Theo, eyed him with pity.
"You are not sure that they are gone?" Theodic asked, turning toward James.
"They were taken from here. The ones at the Malfoy's flat were also destroyed. The only place any remain is… is at my parents' house." James rose to his feet, all sluggishness gone.
Could he be right?
And where is Albus?! Silly boy! Why oh why had he, James, never taken the time to explain to his brother that running away from school was stupid? Why had he laughed while telling Albus of their forays outside of Hogwarts?!
Why had he been such a careless dunce?!
Why had he never taken Albus seriously?
Where are you, Al?!
"I need to get some fresh air," Uncle Ron said quietly, getting up. He was pale, dark circles around his eyes. James nodded, and his uncle patted him on the shoulder as he passed by.
And Uncle Ron is here. Where did he come from? And why?
James followed Ron with his eyes, then shut them tight: his uncle's red hair reminded him of his mother. It brought back the memories of those times, when everything was different, so different. When Hermione and Ron were together. When Dad had Mum, and he had a very different look in his eyes. And a different job.
When they had a different home.
When there was yet no Xenia.
And Lily didn't love Scorpius. She did her best to ignore him; to pretend he didn't exist at all.
Uncle Ron came from that, former life, which James wouldn't want to recapture. Yes, his mum was in it. But all of it was the past now. They had survived it.
Why did he return?
"Are you leaving?" Theodic was looking at him unflappably, wiping his hands on a towel.
"Lily and Malfoy's pictures must also be at my parents' house," James said.
"Do you need them now?"
Potter didn't know how to explain to the man what he was afraid of. He did not quite understand it himself. And so, he simply nodded and headed for the fireplace.
He didn't quite manage enter it, however, what with almost bumping into Rose. She appeared very anxious, for some reason. A moment later James understood why: his cousin was followed closely into the parlour by none other than his own father.
"How are you?" Harry stepped toward James directly, and grasped his shoulders, studying his face closely. Dad seemed very worried. He shook hands with Theodic, and then turned back towards his son.
"Where did you come from?" the younger Potter looked over at Rose who was exited into the street, quietly shutting the door.
"I received a etter from Hogwarts that Albus and another girl, his friend, ran away from school," Harry rustled the piece of parchment in his hand. Two other friends of his were caught and confessed that Albus had gone to find a healer to help someone's mother… Professor Faust found out that Al and his friend made it through the fireplace to the Diagon Alley and then took the Knight Bus. They arrived here, to your town. That is why I went straight to Rose's – to find Albus and return him to the school.
"Dad…"
"I know everything; Rose told me," Harry was dead serious, and James knew that his father must be going crazy with worry, just like all of them. Maybe even more, since both Lily and Albus had gone missing. "Sit down and tell me everything you know, and where Malfoy is… I am going to Tuba directly – to rouse the Aurors. Maybe Albus…"
James' father was interrupted by a quite unnaturally loud popping sound. The Potters and Theo turned around and froze, unable to speak.
A tad strange, but by no means unwelcome group appeared in the centre of the room. In the middle, holding two house elves by the hand stood pleased-looking (with himself?) Albus. The two elves were easily recognized as Dirk, the Potters' elf, and Dong, the Malfoys' elf, whose appearance made James' mouth open in shock.
Are house elves related to phoenixes, and rising from the ashes is as easy for them as subduing a werewolf by grabbing it by the tail and knocking the wind out of it? Or can they also become ghosts?
"Well, at least we found Albus," James forced out, to break the silence. He then looked up at the fourth member of the strange company of found-missing and surviving-perished.
Now, this is interesting, he though, recognizing the golden-haired girl they saw at the café a day ago, staring at Malfoy.
James' father dashed for Albus, grabbed him in his arms, and lifted him, to inspect his smudged (not with chocolate, for a change) face.
"Are you alright? Where have you been?" Harry asked, while James never took his eyes off the girl.
She smiled and extended her hand:
"My name is Helene. And I would like to speak with Scorpius Malfoy…" she spoke with an accent, and James was sure, for some reason, that it was French.
"James," he replied, and turned to Dong. "Where the hell have you been?!"
The elf was silent, his huge eyes shifting from Helene to James.
"He cannot speak; he was forbidden to," the girl placed her hand on the house elf's shoulder.
"How? Who?"
"I have to speak to your friend. It is urgent."
James turned toward his father, who was listening to Abus' higgledy-piggledy account: with each passing moment, Harry's face grew more pale and stern.
"I am completely lost now," James muttered, looking at Helene. She wanted to say something, but at that moment James' father got off the couch (still holding Albus' hand) and said coldly:
"I think we also ought to hear what our guest has to say. I would particularly like to know how my son found himself at your estate? And how had Scorpius Malfoy's house elf gotten there? And the main thing: who is your husband and where is he now?"
James glanced interrogatively at his father, then whipped around, because Rose and Uncle Ron entered from the street.
Exactly, just what they need right now, he thought, seeing all colour drain from his father's face.
The party is now in full swing.