…and we're back. I want to apologise for the lengthy wait between updates, but long-time followers of my stories will know that a delay always seems to happen at some point. In this case, life just got in the way. I've said it before - and I'll say it again - I'd rather take longer to finish a good chapter than rush to finish a bad one.
The next couple of chapters should helpfully come a lot sooner! Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think.
III. Tennyson
"Oh fuck!"
"Mr Potter, I won't have that language in my classroom," admonished Professor Slughorn. "Ten points–"
"Professor, I think it's about to blow," James interrupted, with a panicked edge in his voice. A porous vapour was rising from the cauldron that he and Sirius were ministering.
Slughorn bustled over, wand drawn, and attempted to vanish the potion, to no avail. He leaned in, giving the cauldron a sniff, and his face went white.
"Everybody out, now!"
Lily had taken two steps when she was crash-tackled to the floor. A second later, the cauldron exploded with a earsplitting boom.
As the smoke began to clear, she shook her head, ears still ringing. She blinked and everything swam into vision.
"You can get off me, Potter."
"Er, of course. Sorry," he stated quietly, standing to dust off his robes.
She winced and massaged her shoulder.
"Fuck, did I do that?" James exclaimed.
She scowled at him.
"No, it was the other idiot who landed on top of me."
He smirked, drawing his wand, which Lily eyed with a fair amount of trepidation.
"I can fix it. Happens in Qudditch all the time."
"Exploding potions?"
"No, shoulder injuries. You've got a right wit when you get hurt, you know that?"
"It's a coping mechanism for dealing with you."
"Understandable," he replied, taking her arm. "Here."
"Oh. Okay."
He pressed his wand to her shoulder, and moments later, the sharp pain subsided.
"Better?"
"Yes actually."
"Probably a good idea to visit Pomfrey in case I cocked it up."
"You said you could fix it!"
"I did!"
"How do you know that?"
He clapped her on the shoulder.
"Did that hurt?"
"Well, no, not really."
"Then you're fine, Evans."
"Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, Potter."
After lunch, James slid into his usual seat in the Defence classroom on the fourth floor. He fished a ream of parchment out of his satchel, and began doodling on it with a quill.
"Prongs," Sirius greeted, sliding into the seat next to him as the class began to fill with their classmates.
James lifted his head in acknowledgement, then did a quick scribble on his parchment, before showing it to Sirius.
Sirius smirked.
"Is that a self-portrait?" he retorted.
"Nah, mines–"
James stopped abruptly as a woman entered the room.
"Who's the new bird?" Sirius muttered.
James shrugged.
"No idea."
"Good afternoon, class," the woman greeted.
There was a smattering of 'good afternoons' in reply.
"Let's try that again, can we?"
"One of those, evidently," Sirius remarked quietly, as the group of students attempted to muster a greater deal of enthusiasm.
"My name is Professor Whitcliffe, and I will be taking you for Defence Against the Dark Arts for the remainder of the school year."
"Miss, what happened to Professor McKenna?" James asked.
"Your name?"
"James."
"James…" The woman consulted a piece of parchment. "Potter?"
"Yeah."
"Professor McKenna has been forced to take a leave of absence, the circumstances of which I am not aware. If you are particularly curious you can take it up with the Headmaster, but I imagine it is a private matter."
He nodded.
"Right!" Whitcliffe said, clapping her hands together. "Let's begin. My understanding is that you were working on advanced shield charms. Quills and parchment out, please."
She clicked her fingers and the chalk rose up from its perch on the blackboard and started to write out notes.
"Advanced shield charms are diverse in their variety, as many as specifically designed to ward off particular attacks. The careful witch or wizard will have a sizeable number of these spells in their inventory, for as one of the fundamentals of Defence Against the Dark Arts teaches, one must be prepared for any eventuality."
James glanced at his watch, then shared a look with Sirius, who had a pained expression on his features. It was going to be a long afternoon.
"Thoughts, Moony?"
"She could be worse."
"She's basically reciting the textbook."
"Well yes, but if she's going to read from a book, it might as well be the right one."
James shot him a flat look.
"I like Defence, Remus. It's usually fun. That was decidedly un-fun."
"It was a theory day. Maybe she'll do practical tomorrow," the werewolf replied.
James made a sceptical noise, but let the matter drop as Remus gave the Fat Lady the password - "Indiana" - and the two boys clambered into the Common Room.
"We need more Firewhiskey," Peter announced, shaking the last drops of a bottle into his open mouth.
"Are we out?" Sirius asked.
"Yep."
"Bugger."
"Can it wait until tomorrow? I've got the pitch booked tonight."
Sirius made a face.
"You'll live."
"What about the thing with the girls' dormitory?"
"Oh, fuck. Remus, is the potion ready?"
"Sure, if you want to spare the world of your offspring," Remus answered, not looking up from the book he was reading on his bed.
James grimaced.
"That's a no on the potion."
Sirius shrugged.
"We can do both tomorrow. I'll send an owl to the Hogs' Head."
After training, James sat back in his chair by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room with a relieved sigh. He'd pushed himself to take risks in training, and had taken three Bludger hits for his efforts. He picked up a well-worn book with several dog-eared pages, and had begun to flick through it, when he was interrupted by Lily.
"What's with that book, Potter?"
James looked up, faintly surprised.
"It's a Muggle book," he replied, handing it to her.
Lily took the book, turning it over in her hands, and running a finger along the title.
"Tennyson," she remarked with a sceptical look. "You read poetry?"
"I read Tennyson," James replied.
"You're having a laugh."
"There has fallen a splendid tear, from the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate," James recited.
Lily's eyes widened, surprised. Then:
"You're taking the absolute piss."
He shrugged.
"Works wonders with birds, Evans."
"I'll bet it does," she retorted. "When they realise what a horrible mistake they've made, at least they've heard some nice poetry to make up for it."
He smirked.
"It's such a convenient way to be done with them."
"You're disgusting," she replied.
"You love it."
"No, I don't."
"I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."
"Shut up, Potter."
Remus handed James a goblet filled with a blue-tinted liquid.
"Are you ready?"
"If this fucks up my balls, Remus, I'm going to murder you," James replied, eyeing up the potion.
"Well, technically your balls are going to be fine. Rather, it's the sperm that–"
"The less I know about this, the better," James interjected.
"Bottoms up, Prongs, there's a good lad," said Sirius, doing a miserable job at hiding the gleeful smirk plastered across his features.
James scowled at him.
"This is the last time we ever play a hand with your dodgy cards."
"You lost the bet fair and square. Don't blame faulty equipment," Sirius replied. "Speaking of…"
James downed the contents of the goblet in one, then shuddered.
"That's bloody foul."
"Is is just me, or does your voice seem a bit higher?" Peter remarked.
James turned his scowl to the fourth Marauder.
"Prat."
"Ladies and gentlemen of Gryffindor Tower! Gather round!" Sirius said loudly as he clambered onto a table in the middle of the Common Room, before turning to two giggling second-years with a glare.
"Oi! Shut it! In the thousand year history of this school, no man has ever made his way into the girl's dormitories," he continued. "That is...until tonight!"
A mix of jeers and laughter broke out.
Sirius held up a hand to quiet the room.
"My friends….although we've been defeated before, this time, we've found a way."
Lily exchanged a look with Marley.
"They've got to be kidding."
"I think they're serious this time," Marley replied.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," Sirius announced, "Please give a warm welcome to your very own Quidditch Captain, the only twat stupid enough to go through with this...James Potter!"
Fist in the air, James made his way into the Common Room to another round of laughter and jeering.
"Tonight," Sirius shouted above the crowd, "Mr Potter will go where no man has ever gone before."
James made his way through the throng of students until he was standing before the steps leading to the girls' dormitory.
"Five galleons says he lands flat on his arse!" someone shouted out.
James closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He had argued the toss with Sirius when he'd lost the bet, but in truth, he didn't care. If he failed, he'd be the fool, and not the first time. But if he succeeded? He'd be a legend.
The crowd had drawn quiet.
He placed a foot on the stairs.
And then another.
And another.
The Common Room burst into noisy cheers and a smattering of applause as James made his way up the girls' staircase and out of sight.
"Fetch a pair of Evans' knickers!" Sirius shouted.
"It's about as close to them as you're ever going to get!" Marlene retorted, to laughter.
"I have to say, I'm actually impressed."
James looked up from the textbook he was idly leafing through. As the novelty of the Marauder's latest prank had worn off, so too had the Common Room quietened down as students returned to their work.
"Evans, I'm flattered."
"How'd you do it?" she asked, curiosity coming over her features.
"Well, let's just say that I wasn't strictly male," James replied.
"You didn't…" Lily said, making a vague gesture.
"Transfigure myself? Merlin no!" James said, horrified.
"How'd you do it then?"
"With a potion, but I'm not saying any more."
"Trade secret?" she asked.
"Trade secret."
Lily shrugged and made to walk away.
"Oh, Evans?"
She turned back, raising an eyebrow in question.
"Speaking of being impressed, I must say - black lace. You're a classy girl."
Her face took on a dangerous scowl.
"Tell me you didn't go anywhere near my underwear."
He grinned.
"Course not, but anytime you want to change that, name the time and place."
"Prat."
"Hurry up!" Sirius said. "We're nearly there."
"I'm getting there…fuck!"
"What?" Sirius asked.
"This was a lot easier when we were twelve," Remus grumbled, as he emerged from a narrow bend in the tunnel.
"Shut up!" James said suddenly in a loud whisper.
"What?"
"We're not alone," James murmured under his breath.
He put a finger to his lips, motioning for silence, and pointed to the wooden trapdoor a few feet ahead with his other hand.
Behind him, Sirius and Peter drew their wands.
"Who is it?" Remus asked.
"I don't know. Listen," James whispered.
"…sources inside the school have informed me that the Hogsmeade visit will be next Saturday," said the first voice.
"Who's the target?" said a second voice.
"The Bones girl. Here."
"Understood."
"This seems rash," a third voice said, hesitant.
"A message must be sent. You heard Malfoy's orders," the second voice replied.
"But like this?"
"What are they doing there?" Sirius whispered.
"Who are they?" Peter asked.
"…and then the Aurors will be on us like flies."
"You worry too much," spoke a fourth voice with a foreign accent.
"You haven't met Mad-Eye Moody, have you Alexei?" spoke the third man bitterly.
"He's not invincible," said the first voice.
"No, but I still wake up in a cold sweat thinking about what he did to McNab. Merlin's beard, if you had seen–" the third voice argued.
"Enough about Moody. He's no match for the Dark Lord."
"Like the Dark Lord is going to risk his cover against the Aurors. If this turns into a shitstorm, we're on our own," the third voice said cynically.
"Do not speak ill of him, Morin. The Dark Lord guides our hand."
"He must bide his time. Our work in the Wizengamot depends on it."
There was a murmur of agreement, then a pause.
"Gentlemen, I don't think we're alone," spoke the second voice. There was a sudden edge in his voice.
"What do you mean?" said the fourth man, Alexei.
"Didn't you scan?" asked the first voice.
"Of course I did!" the third voice, Morin, exclaimed.
"Do it again!"
"Fine."
From the tunnel, the Marauders heard Morin draw his wand and begin an incantation.
James turned to the others, his eyes wide.
His voice came in a panicked whisper.
"Run."
"What the fuck was that?" Sirius exclaimed, turning on the group once they were in the safety of their dorm.
"Who were they?" Peter asked.
"Voldemort's people," James replied grimly.
There was a heavy pause in the room.
"We can't tell Dumbledore," Peter said, breaking the silence.
"Why not?" Remus asked.
"His first question will be why we were in the tunnels in the first place," Sirius replied.
"And we're on a thin fucking rope already," said Peter.
"McGonagall will have your balls in a jar," Remus added.
"Just where she's always wanted them, let's be honest," Sirius said.
"We have to let somebody know," said Remus, standing up and pacing nervously.
"My dad," James said.
"He'll go spare," Sirius replied.
"Not if I'm giving him information he won't," James said. "He won't be able to help himself."
"Can you reach him tonight?" Remus asked.
"Yeah," James replied, and dug in his robes for a small velvet pouch. "I picked this up from one of Dad's Trainees. It's a special kind of Floo powder they use in the field. We just need a fireplace."
"Common Room?" Peter suggested.
"Too risky. What about the one in the Transfiguration classroom on third floor?" Sirius said.
"I'd rather not have Filch breathing down my neck," James replied.
"There's one in the Prefect's room," Remus volunteered. "We don't use it for anything but meetings so I doubt anyone's in there."
"Alright," said James. "Grab the Map. Let's go."
Remus drew his wand and pointed it at the empty fireplace, which burst into flames.
James drew a small handful of powder from the velvet pouch, and flung it into the fire.
"Nathaniel Potter."
The fire roared a bright blue, and after a moment, James' father - a face framed by thin spectacles and silver-grey hair - appeared in the flames.
"James. Boys. This is unexpected."
"Hi Dad."
"Somehow I doubt this is a social call," Nathaniel answered. "What's the matter?"
"Well…" James began.
"Out with it, James."
"Right. We were in the Honeydukes cellar - well, underneath it, and–"
"In the tunnel that leads to Hogwarts?" Nathaniel interjected.
"Er, yeah," James replied sheepishly.
"Do I want to know why you were in the tunnel?"
"Probably not."
"Right. Go on," Nathaniel said.
"We overheard voices - I think it was Voldemort's people," James said.
"How many?"
"At least four."
"How did you know they were his people?" Nathaniel queried.
"I'm guessing, but they referred to someone they called the 'Dark Lord,' and–"
"They spoke about the Bones girl too," Sirius interjected.
"Okay. Any names?"
"Malfoy. Morin. And an Alex-y? The second was definitely foreign," James volunteered.
"They said that they had to send a message. They're planning something. And they were talking about the next Hogsmeade weekend," Remus added.
Nathaniel paused.
"How many girls from the Bones family are at Hogwarts?"
"Emily from Ravenclaw, in fourth year," Remus supplied.
"Natalie, in our year," James said.
"And Chloe. She's seventh year," Sirius volunteered.
"Three, then," Nathaniel replied, his expression thoughful. "Thank you."
"What are you going to do?"
"What we do best," Nathaniel Potter replied grimly, and his voice carried the weight of the Auror Office behind it.
"And us?"
"Stay out of trouble," Nathaniel said wryly.
"Can't make any promises," James shot back.
Nathaniel met his gaze.
"I mean it. There are dangerous forces at work, James."
Nathaniel Potter extinguished the fireplace in his well-adorned office with a flick of his wand, and then took a seat at his desk.
Andrew Morin was known to the Auror Office, as was - he was guessing - Sergei Alexei. Morin was a smuggler, and Alexei had contacts throughout the European black markets. But neither were assassins.
No, far more likely that the plot was a kidnapping, with little doubt as to the target and location. Hogsmeade would be crowded with students, and making away with one of the Bones daughters would be simple work for someone with experience. It would be nightfall before the alarm would be raised, and by that time, the victim could be halfway across the North Sea.
Nathaniel scribbled a few short sentences on a piece of parchment, and then fished a small silver mirror out of his desk drawer. He tapped the mirror with his wand, and it glowed for a moment.
"Sir?" a voice came from the mirror.
"Set up a meeting with Edgar Bones and the Auror Commander. It's urgent. Let them know I'll be in London shortly."
"Yes sir."
Andrew Morin stood before three masked men, decidedly nervous. It wasn't often that he was summoned before Death Eaters, and it usually wasn't a pleasant experience.
"We understand there's been a setback with the Bones mission," spoke one.
Morin swallowed, and nodded deferentially.
"We may have been overheard by students in the tunnel leading to the school. Clearly some have discovered its existence."
"Did you give chase?" asked the second Death Eater.
"Couldn't risk it. Besides, we don't know if they heard anything anyway," Morin answered.
"Your carelessness could set us back months! You know as well as I do that the Dark Lord does not tolerate failure, Morin."
"I know. Forgive me. Am I to proceed as planned?" he asked.
"Yes. It's too late now. We need this if I'm to build leverage in the Ministry," said the third Death Eater.
"But we don't know if the Aurors have been alerted," Morin replied.
"You know the stakes, Morin. If you succeed, you will be rewarded. And I will talk to our supporters within the school. We may learn something," the second masked man replied.
"And if the Aurors show up?" Morin questioned.
The three Death Eaters shared a grim laugh.
"For your sake, Morin, I hope they don't."
