Chapter 33 - Oh Brother
It had taken James a very long time to understand why Sirius had done what he'd done to Snape and Remus before Christmas, and so it had taken him a very long time to forgive him.
James supposed he just didn't have the same capacity for understanding darkness as his fierce friend did, and so he couldn't see how someone could so easily be tipped over into the world of rage, hatred… murder?
Had Sirius felt like murdering Snape? Had his fury truly pushed him to that extreme edge? And why was he so furious? Sirius always seemed to be angry (besides this last month, that is). He seemed angry at the very world sometimes. But James thought he could understand. His anger at his hopeless situation (seeing death and destruction and being unable to help, his brother beating James at quidditch and Snape sneaking around after Remus) had truly boiled over. It had morphed into something ugly and monstrous, that it seemed had scared even him.
James did believe he was sorry. While he never went as far as accepting it wouldn't have served Snape right, James knew that was mostly just bravado. Whatever it was Dumbledore said to him seemed to have affected him deeply. He had, for reasons James could see (having got to know Sirius pretty well over the last five years), simply let his sense of powerlessness boil over to extremely rash action. And he was desperately sorry for that.
But now he was back at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, the very origin of his rash behaviour and sense of powerlessness. James hated thinking of his friend trapped there. He'd met both his parents before briefly at platform nine and three quarters and he couldn't have imagined two people less likely to understand his fiercely loyal friend. How much was he surely suffering at their hands this Christmas?
"James dear, are you alright?"
It was his mother. She must have asked him this question at least a dozen times in the last week, and each time his answer was the same.
"Just worrying about Sirius."
Euphemia came over and stroked his hair. Though he considered himself was far too old for the maternal show of affection, he let her fuss. He knew she adored having him home for the holidays.
His father seemed very pleased to have James home too. Now he was older, he and his dad spoke more and more about what was happening in the wider wizarding world. His mother would leave the pair of them to it after dinner, calling their chats 'boys talk', but not without first bringing them drinks. "Oh go on, what can it hurt?" She said, pouring James a small measure of firewhisky too. James chose not to mention that he'd already been drinking it since fourth year to her.
"I don't know James," his dad said, stretching and shaking his head. "I just don't know how this is happening again. The last wizarding war we had was during Grindelwald's time. I remember it." His expression was suddenly grave. "We were all enlisted to fight. I saw things that will stay with me for the rest of my life."
"How old were you?" James asked.
"I was twenty one when war was declared." He said. "It's no age at all. I was still a boy."
James considered twenty one to be quite old indeed. Surely by then he'd know exactly what he was doing. He'd have enough hexes and curses mastered to take on any death eater who tried it with him. He'd be totally invincible.
"I can't wait to fight." James said. "I wish they were recruiting now." He wondered if they'd take a sixteen year old if they were? His birthday was only in March, he didn't have long to wait.
But Fleamont was suddenly looking serious. "You're to do no such thing." He told him sternly. "You're to focus on your education and after that your career. There are aurors whose job it is to sort this mess out for us. It's not for you to do."
James wondered what his dad would say if he told him he wanted to be an auror after he left Hogwarts. He'd had the careers chat with McGonagall already and it had been all he could think of to say to her. Nothing else mattered to him except fighting the dark arts. He knew his dad was only being protective over him, but couldn't he see how much his son needed his freedom? He supposed he and Sirius had that in common at least.
"Good stuff, eh?" Fleamont said as James took another sip of firewhisky. "Not as good as that bottle you boys pinched over the summer though." And he winked at him. James grimaced back. He supposed he couldn't pull the wool over his dad's eyes about everything...
Christmas Day at the Potters was always magical. Now James was older he preferred to sleep in later, meeting his parents downstairs as they, fully dressed, were putting the finishing touches on the Christmas cake.
He hung in the doorway of the kitchen, grinning as they argued over where the little santa's sleigh should be.
"Monty, you disbelieving fool, we can't have it down there, it's meant to be flying in the air!"
"Maybe the magic ran out? Maybe Voldemort finally got his way and blew up the magical world?"
"Monty dear, it's Christmas Day, you can't talk about death on Christmas Day."
"I'm sorry." Fleamont said, picking up the sleigh and putting it at the top of the cake. "And there it shall stay. For now, forever, until our dying day."
James quickly entered the kitchen as his parents turned to one another, edging far too close for James' liking. "Merry Christmas." He said, grinning at them.
"Merry Christmas, darling." His mother said, squeezing him tight in her arms. "And it's already a wonderful one as I have the best Christmas gifts Santa or anyone could have given me. Oh how lucky I am to have you both." James' dad grinned at James over his mother's head. James was also taller than her now, but one thing that hadn't changed was her total devotion to them both.
After breakfast, they opened their presents. James had got his mum a new perfume (he'd overheard Evans talking about it in the common room and thought it was a good idea) and his dad two bottles of firewhisky (one to replace the one they'd stolen, another actually as a gift.)
He had received a new quidditch helmet, gloves and a broomstick servicing kit. His parents knew him very well indeed.
After lunch they played charades. James' parents usually became giggly again around this time, and after a few rounds, his mother was laughing too hard at James' dad's all-fours enactment of 'Lady and the Tramp' to take the game seriously and the pair of them collapsed on the floor together.
Grinning again at his parents' teenage-like behaviour, he made his way to the kitchen to fetch another butterbeer from the fridge.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
What was that?
His parents had heard it too. "James? Is that you?"
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"I think it's the door." Fleamont said. "Who on earth could be calling on Christmas Day? And who doesn't know how doorbells work?!"
All three of them made their way to the hallway where, watching curiously, James' mother opened the door.
"Oh my goodness!" She exclaimed. For there, standing in the rain, hair plastered to his face and shirt drenched through, was Sirius.
It had taken a while for him to stop shaking. James didn't know (or like to ask) whether this was because of the fact that he'd been soaking wet with no coat on or something else.
"What are you doing here?!" James' mother had exclaimed on seeing him, but it seemed that Sirius couldn't answer. His eyes had met James' and James knew more than he'd ever known anything in his whole life that this was one of those times that his friend needed him. Without a thought for anything else, he ran forwards and hugged him. Sirius had been shaking ever since.
"But I don't understand." Fleamont said. "It's Christmas Day! Why aren't you with your family?"
"C - can I stay here?"
James hated the fear in his friend's voice. Of course he could stay here. As if that wasn't even an option?! What was he so frightened of?
"Sirius." James' mother said. She had fetched him a hot drink and was now kneeling before him on the sofa, frowning concernedly at him. "I know it's hard, but you need to tell us exactly what's happened."
But Sirius shook his head again. "I can't." He said. "Please don't make me."
Euphemia wrapped her arms around him. It seemed like she would never let go. "Of course we won't make you." She said, moving to look at him with tears in her eyes. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to ever again."
James honestly didn't know how his mother had managed it. In the course of a week, Sirius went from being a ghost of himself, pale, jumpy and frightened to being, quite possibly, the happiest James had ever seen him in his life.
James could hear him downstairs with his mother now. He was singing as she played the piano, getting the lyrics purposefully wrong as she laughed and kept missing the notes.
It turned out the Black family argument had been about Andromeda. Apparently sick of being unable to see her or meet little Nymphadora, he had attempted to sneak out of the house. He'd yelled at his parents that now he was sixteen he could do what he wanted and he hadn't told James exactly how they'd reacted to that, but he knew it must have been bad. In the end they'd locked him up and he'd somehow managed to magic his way out without a wand. He'd grabbed a few of his most treasured possessions (though not his coat, apparently) and hitch-hiked his way here ("muggles are even friendlier at Christmas!")
Euphemia was horrified by the story. "But they'll be so terribly worried about you!" She had cried. "And what an impossibly stupid thing to do!" She had scolded as Sirius told her how he'd got here.
He'd smiled at her weakly. "You said you wouldn't mind keeping me once. Please don't send me back there now. I'll run to Remus' if you do, but I'd rather… I'd rather stay here."
James' mother promised him they wouldn't, that he was always welcome and set him up in one of the spare bedrooms for the night, but James overheard them discussing the matter gravely together once they'd gone to bed.
"Can't just send him back there, Monty. Didn't you see the state of him?!"
"He's their son, Euphemia."
"And they're clearly brilliant parents!" His mother said crossly. "Who doesn't trouble to ask after their child after he runs out on Christmas Day?"
"He's not really a child though, is he?"
"He's not of age! He can't live alone. How could they think of letting him go like that?"
Of course, James knew they hadn't let him go. He had run away, but he supposed it was still odd they hadn't come after him. James had run away once. He'd been about six and his dad had told him off for throwing a quaffle in the house. He'd been furious and, packing a rucksack with his pyjamas and Godric the lion, had marched out of the front door, standing on his tiptoes to reach the door handle. He had walked all the way down the drive and half way down the street when he realised he'd made a terrible mistake. He turned, panicking, feeling totally alone and frightened when he caught sight of his parents, hiding behind a bush a few feet away. They had let him have his freedom while making sure he was safe at the same time. Something inside James broke to realise that in Sirius' case, his parents had done neither.
"Don't fight it, darling. The Blacks will always twist and manipulate things. We've got Sirius now. Let them do what they want. They won't hurt him again."
And, for the millionth time this Christmas, James loved his parents.
Fleamont and Euphemia sort of adopted Sirius as a second son after that. His parents never did come looking for him and as time wore on, this seemed to bother Sirius less and less. "I knew they never cared." He told James one day as the two of them laid the table for dinner. "It's like Dumbledore said, isn't it? When you face things head on, you can deal with them. And that's what I'm going to do."
But at an enormous price. Sirius had not just left his mother and father that day. He had left his brother, his cousins, his uncles, aunts and grandparents too.
"What do you think Andromeda and Alphard will say?" He asked his friend, frowning.
Sirius grimaced. "I dunno. Alphard is my mum's brother, but he did say to me once he knows what a bloody nightmare she is. He might forgive me."
"And Andromeda?"
Sirius grinned. "She'll be delighted. It'll be one less name off the Black family tapestry. Let's let the sodding name die out. Hopefully she'll blast us all off and then the whole stinking lot of them will be no more. Hey, wouldn't that be great? If the death eaters just finished each other off?" He grinned enormously again.
"I think you've done quite enough fighting for now, dear." Euphemia said, coming in and stroking his hair affectionately. "I don't know why Monty humours you both. Anyone would think you were both planning to be aurors once you leave school!"
"We -" James looked at Sirius. He knew his friend had been about to say 'we are'. But something shifted in his grey eyes. He looked to James' mother and then he looked to James. "We'd do no such thing." He said, smiling.
James grinned too. He was learning.
James, having always been an only child, didn't mind sharing his parents with Sirius one bit. They chatted with James' dad together late into the night and helped his mother out with whatever she was doing in the day.
"I thought I was the luckiest woman alive last week, now I just feel greedy!" She laughed as Sirius and James treated her to a home-cooked meal one evening. It had been Sirius' idea. He'd been wanting to practice what he'd learned the last time he'd been here and also show some of his appreciation for James' mum too.
"Does she like candles? Will she mind the potato's a bit burnt?" Sirius fretted as they prepared the dinner.
Euphemia Potter had loved every little second of it.
When it came time to return to Hogwarts, she gave them both a huge hug. "We'll see you at Easter." She said, squeezing Sirius, but then something on the platform caught her eye and she looked up. "Oh that -"
And she called Sirius' mother something James had never heard his mother say about anyone before. He was really quite impressed!
Sirius spun round to see where she was looking and James saw his eyes widen as he saw his parents, standing a few feet away with Regulus.
James' mother was positively spitting with fury. "How dare she. How dare she."
"Mum, don't." James said quickly. He knew his mother was inches away from marching over to Walburga Black to give her a piece of her mind. Oh God he hoped she wouldn't.
"Walburga Black." Euphemia Potter snapped, storming over to the woman, pearls flashing, cream heels clapping. And, to everyone on the platform's utter horror and amazement, she slapped the woman hard around the face.
James burst out laughing. He couldn't help himself. He didn't know what was funnier; the look of stunned disbelief on Sirius' mother's face, the hysterical laughter now pouring from Sirius or the fact that quite literally everyone on the whole platform was now staring in shock. It was as though the whole scene had frozen.
And Sirius just stood there and laughed.
"Euphemia!" Fleamont said crossly to her as she came back a moment later, having told Sirius' mother just what she thought of her as a parent, but Euphemia laughed him off.
"Oh what's she going to do?" She said, moving to hug Sirius again, who looked like his birthday, Christmas and Halloween had all come at once. "I don't regret it. Maybe one hard slap will be what finally gets through to her."
James looked at Sirius. He smiled back. "Never worked for me." He said predictably.
Still reeling from the drama of Mrs Potter slapping Mrs Black at the platform, James and Sirius boarded the train.
"Hey, James!"
"Hey, Sirius!"
Various students called out as they passed.
"Hey, was that your mum, James?"
"And was that yours, Sirius?"
"Blimey, that was a scene I'd like to see again."
"I'm surprised Mrs Black didn't wallop her back."
"Wouldn't that have been something? A real fight?!"
They continued to gossip as James and Sirius passed them. James grinned at Sirius. "My mum is the biggest hypocrite on this planet. She always told me violence was wrong."
"Well, maybe she was right. Maybe there are some circumstances when it's OK."
"She didn't say OK, did she?"
"I think she said 'get through to'."
"That's where the death eaters are going wrong."
"Come again?"
"They've gone too far with it. They're like you were before Christmas. Sorry, no offence. But they've taken their anger to blind rage. They'll do anything at any price. They're not trying to 'get through' to everyone, they're trying to break them."
"Evil bastards."
"So we have to stop them. But not at any price."
"Yes, at any price, just not at any cost."
"Now you've lost me."
"We don't go round blowing up buildings or killing people. We don't become like them. We don't fight fire with fire, don't you remember? Dumbledore told us."
"What do you mean we don't fight fire with fire? What do we fight it with then?"
But James thought he had the answer to that. And he knew Sirius did too. It had been the force that had inspired him to choose Gryffindor at the age of eleven and to choose the Potters at the age of sixteen. That invisible, powerful force that he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, would conquer any evil. And now, finally, his friend had left his dark family behind. He'd made the hardest choice of all; to stand up against evil, to fight for what was right and to do so at ANY price. And if that didn't make him more powerful than the death eaters, James didn't know what would.