James let out a calming breath as the scent of coffee hit him. His muscles, unknowingly tensed during his sleep, relaxed as a naked figure next to him enveloped him in a deep hug. James smiled. One of the few times that he truly did during the past few years. He turned his face and kissed the tuft of blonde hair on top and nuzzled into it as the figure appreciatively purred. Here he was just James. Not a wizard. Not Lord Potter. Not Senior Auror James Potter, second in line to become the head of the DMLE. Here he was a man simply partaking in carnal pleasures, sod the rest of the world. They could live on their own for five minutes without him.
"You keep doing that and we are going to waste the entire morning in here, tiger." She said and opened one eye. "We really should get a move on."
James didn't say anything but pouted. A portion of her pale cheek struck out from the blanket below and he wickedly smacked it he was still a boy in his pranking days. The woman audibly squealed at having her rear smacked and dug her nails deeper into his chest and shoulders.
"We really should be moving on James. The rest will be awake soon and your sqaud will be here." She said again and James pouted again.
"hnng… Do you have to be such a spoil sport Andy?" James asked and she chuckled. Before she could respond, James pulled her over into a deep kiss. This. This primal feeling of worriless celebration. This is what he always truly desired. Before the "couple" could celebrate further, a voice from outside the tent interrupted them.
"Mom?" The voice said and they both paused in fear. Taking deep breaths, Andromeda called out,
"Yes, Nymphodora?" She said.
"Are you ready to go? My patrol starts out in five minutes." Tonks said. "We really need to go on ahead."
"Hold your horses, Nymphodora. What's the rush." Andromeda called out as she and James desperately reached for their clothes.
"Mrs. Potter said she couldn't find, Captain. So I will have to look for him as well." Tonks petulantly said. "I can't bloody well do both in five minutes now can I?"
"No, you go on ahead. Search for him. I will go the seats on my own." She said.
"All right." Tonks said and went on ahead. A brief pause filled the tent as both awkwardly tried something to fill the silence but came up short.
"You should go." Andromeda snapped at seeing the sheepish James.
"Andy…." James trailed off.
"Mrs. Potter might get worried about your whereabouts." She acidly said and James paused at that as he tied a tie.
"She is the mother of my children…." James said softly and Andromeda snorted at that. A flash anger welled up in him and James marched upto her and grabbed her wrist.
"What the fuck is that about? We both knew we were married when we did this?" James said as he breathed heavily. Andromeda tried to yank her wrist free but James was unrelenting.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO HERE ANDROMEDA?" he harshly whispered.
"I WANT YOU TO BE A MAN!" Andromeda whispered back. "OR DID YOU FORGOT THAT AFTER YOU MARRIED THAT PSYCHO?!"
James bared his teeth. "And what about you? Giving everthing up to marry that fat muggle of yours? "
"I WAS YOUNG! I WANTED TO GET AWAY FROM DRUELLA!" Andromeda spat back. "I MADE A MISTAKE!"
"SO DID I!" James said. "You think its great having to walk on egg shells around a woman? Not knowing when she might go off on one of her epsiodes and start cursing everything?"
Andromeda raised her other free hand but James grabbed it too.
"You think I enjoy living in a nuthouse like that?" James whispered.
"Then leave! You are Lord Potter! She was never one of us. Not of our lord." Andromeda said. "We both made mistakes but we can fix it!"
James said nothing and looked away. Andromeda yanked her wrists free and cupped his face and forced him to look at her.
"We can do better for all of us here, James. Lily isn't mentally stable anymore." She babbled without pausing for breath like a door to door salesman. "Your kids aren't safe with her. We can create a new life for us!"
"What about Nymphodora? Or my twins? Hmmm? What about them?" James asked.
"They'll be fine James. Hells, they might even relieved to be rid of that psycho." She said.
James shook his head in negative.
"I gotta go, Andy." James muttered and walked out, leaving a sobbing Andromeda behind.
Quidditch World Cup
James gripped the edge of his seat, watching the quaffle dart across the pitch, barely keeping himself from glancing back up at the upper seats. But even in his peripheral vision, he could see her—Lily, sitting still, eyes blank and unblinking. He tried to ignore it, focusing on the flash of the players' robes, the gasps and roars of the crowd.
"Dad!" Richard's voice jolted him. His son tugged at his arm, practically bouncing. "Did you see that goal? Bulgaria's up by twenty!"
"Yes, yes, I saw," James said, his enthusiasm half-hearted as he forced a grin. He patted his son's shoulder and ruffled his hair, trying to get caught up in the cheers around him. But his gaze drifted back to the upper seats, where Lily's stare bore down on him like a weight.
He felt a chill creep down his spine. What if she knew? He tried to shake the thought, reassuring himself that he'd been thorough—careful, meticulous. No one could possibly know about him and Andromeda. Still, her eyes…
He mentally ran through the scenarios. Both of them had used immaculate cleaning and concealment spells during their tyrst. Also James's underlying were loyal enough to handle an irate wife's probing questions. But somehow she must've known. Women always had the ability to know, somehow someway.
Before he could let himself spiral, a shriek tore through the air, and he snapped his attention back to the field. His heart stopped as a fireball streaked toward one of the players, colliding with him in a burst of flames. Gasps erupted all around. James felt his stomach drop.
"Dad, what's happening?" Richard whispered, wide-eyed with fear.
"Stay close, son," James commanded, his voice low and tense.
More fireballs began raining down, one after another. The bright green and red of the quidditch pitch turned dark under the barrage, smoke billowing up toward the stands. Alarms blared as panicked spectators scrambled, trying to escape.
A man in the royal blue uniform of law enforcement appeared at James's side, shouting over the noise. "Captain! We're under attack! Rufus has ordered all personnel to the rendezvous points!"
James clenched his jaw, nodding. "Understood." He grabbed Lily's arm, shaking her firmly. "Lily! Take the kids, now! Get them to safety!"
She blinked, her dazed expression breaking as she glanced around in alarm, clutching Elizabeth and Richard's hands tightly.
"Mom, let's go! Hurry!" Elizabeth tugged on her sleeve.
James watched them disappear into the crowd, then turned back to the scene below.
We Meet Again
The Potter trio dashed through the chaos, weaving through panicked crowds and dodging blasts of spellfire. Richard kept a firm grip on Elizabeth's arm, trying to lead her and their mother through the confusion.
Suddenly, they nearly collided with Ginny Weasley, who looked just as alarmed as they did. "Richard! Elizabeth! Thank Merlin!" she exclaimed, grabbing onto them. "Where's everyone else?!"
"Here," Richard answered, glancing over at Lily, who was staring off with a vacant expression. "But we've got to keep moving. We're not safe out here."
Ginny nodded, gripping Elizabeth's hand and urging, "Come on, follow me—"
But then Lily's expression went blank again, and her hand slipped from Elizabeth's grip. Elizabeth cried, "Mum!" as Lily stumbled backward, blinking like she was in a trance. With a sudden, frantic look, Lily turned and ran into the crowd.
"Mum!" Elizabeth shouted, trying to chase after her, but Richard held her back.
"She's gone, Elizabeth," he said, his voice breaking. "We'll find her after all this—she had the family safety portkey…"
Ginny gritted her teeth, "We'll be safer in the forest," she said, nodding toward the tree line at the edge of the stadium grounds. "It'll be quieter there, away from all this madness. We can wait until it dies down."
Richard gave her a tense nod. "Good plan. Let's go."
They pushed through the edge of the crowd and slipped into the forest, the sounds of spells and explosions gradually fading behind them. The darkness of the woods closed in, dampening the chaos. As they crept deeper, dueling shouts echoed faintly in the distance, followed by terrible, guttural screams.
"Stay low," Richard whispered, ushering the group down behind a thick clump of bushes. They huddled together, holding their breaths as footsteps approached nearby.
"Expelliarmus!" a man's voice yelled from somewhere in the dark. The spell hit, and they watched in horror as a red-robed Auror was disarmed, his wand flying through the air, before he collapsed under a flash of green light. The figure who'd attacked him—a man in a black robe with a silver mask—stood over him, raising his wand in triumph.
"Morsmordre!" the Death Eater bellowed, sending a sickly green skull with a serpent curling from its mouth soaring into the night sky.
Richard and Elizabeth paled. Richard snarled, "Death Eater."
Before they could react, a twig snapped beneath Ginny's foot, drawing the Death Eater's attention. His masked face snapped toward them, his voice dripping with menace. "Who's there?"
Elizabeth quickly clamped a hand over Ginny's mouth, stifling her gasp of horror. But the Death Eater's wand flicked in their direction, and he murmured, "Revelio." The brush and branches concealing them vanished, leaving them exposed.
"Aha," he sneered, stepping forward. His eyes darted to Richard and Elizabeth, narrowing in recognition. "Potter," he muttered, his voice tinged with both anger and delight.
"Run!" Richard shouted, lifting his wand. "Stupefy!" A jet of red light shot from his wand, but the Death Eater dodged it with ease, his lips curling into a mocking smile.
"Aha! CELEBRITIES! the Potter twins," he said, flicking his wand. "And here I thought this would be dull." He shot a curse in their direction, but Elizabeth quickly shouted, "Protego!" Her shield absorbed the curse, though it shattered under the impact.
Richard glanced at Elizabeth, determination flashing in his eyes. "Together," he whispered.
The Death Eater laughed, advancing on them slowly. "You children think you stand a chance?"
They held their ground, wands raised, trying to fend him off, but he was too powerful. He blocked their every attempt with ease, flinging curses that forced them back, each blast bringing them closer to the trees behind.
"Reducto!" He shouted, making the ground beneath them explode, knocking them back.
"AVADA-" His spell was interrupted.
Out of nowhere, a small, wild figure burst onto the scene, hurling jinxes at the Death Eater. "Leave them alone!" shouted a young boy, firing a stream of blue sparks.
"RUN YOU TWO!" The boy shouted to the twins.
They watched in amazement as the boy went toe to toe with the Death Eater without any fear. But it wouldn't last long.
Just at the Death Eater was regaining momentum, a sudden flurry of spellfire erupted from the trees. The Death Eater staggered, his wand clattering to the ground as he was struck by a volley of silent, powerful spells. Thick, enchanted ropes snaked around him, binding him in place.
The looked upto see James arriving with green robed HIT wizards trailing behind him.
"Dad!" Richard and Elizabeth cried, rushing toward him.
James stepped forward, nodding firmly. "You're safe now," he said, his voice steady. He glanced over at the bound Death Eater with a cold, satisfied look. "We've got him."
"WHAT THE HELLS WERE YOU THINKING LEAVING THE CHILDREN ALONE AND RUNNING OFF!"
James sat slumped in his leather armchair, nursing a tumbler of cold whiskey, his fingers wrapped around the glass as he took a long, slow sip. The amber liquid burned his throat, but it did little to numb the tension pounding behind his eyes. He let his head fall back against the chair, exhaling sharply, staring up at the dark wood beams of his study ceiling. As the house settled into uneasy quiet, the weight of the night pressed down on him, heavier with each passing moment.
The memory of the shouting match from only an hour ago replayed relentlessly. They had barely made it back to Potter Manor when everything erupted. As soon as Lily had stepped through the door, he'd spun on her, fury ripping from him. His voice had echoed off the walls as he demanded what she had been thinking, leaving their children alone in the middle of a terror attack.
But she'd only looked at him with that distant, empty gaze, like she hadn't even heard him. It was as though she were somewhere else entirely, somewhere he couldn't reach. The cold, vacant stare had only made his frustration burn hotter, and he'd shouted again, demanding to know what was wrong with her.
"SAY SOMETHING DAMN IT!" James roared.
That was when Richard and Elizabeth had rushed in, trying to pull him away, pleading with him to calm down. Elizabeth's voice had wavered, begging, "Dad, please—"
But before they could break through his anger, Lily had started to weep, her voice cracking as she confessed, barely audible through her sobs, "I saw Harry. I thought—I thought I saw him in the crowd, James. I thought he needed me."
James clenched his teeth, a bitter fury twisting inside him as he remembered his own words: "Harry's dead, Lily! He's been gone for ten years!" He'd practically screamed it, a painful echo that reverberated in his chest even now. But the words had only made her sob harder, collapsing onto the sofa in shudders of grief he hadn't seen from her in years.
That was when Sirius had entered, sensing the tension boiling to a breaking point. With a calming, steady hand, he'd guided the children out of the room, gently but firmly telling them to check on Diederick, who was still shaken from the night's events. Then, he'd steered James into his study, closing the door with a quiet finality.
Now, Sirius leaned against the edge of James's desk, his expression grim but patient, watching his friend struggle with the storm inside.
"Don't be mad, mate. Richard floo'd me, telling something was wrong with you. I rushed as soon as I was able."
James let out a shuddering breath, running a hand over his face. "I lost control, Sirius," he admitted, his voice raw. "I just—I couldn't believe it. She left them, left our children alone in that chaos. And for what? A ghost?"
Sirius nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "She thought she saw him, James. I know it doesn't make sense, but grief… it never makes sense."
"It's been ten years," James whispered, shaking his head as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. "I thought she was finally starting to move on, that we all were."
"Grief doesn't run on a clock, mate," Sirius said, his voice softer. "Sometimes it takes a trigger, something buried, and it comes rushing back. She loved him, James. You both did."
James looked away, guilt and frustration warring within him. "I know. But… we have two children who need her now. Who need us. And tonight…" He trailed off, the memory of the Death Eater, the screams, the dark mark burning against the sky still vivid in his mind. He shuddered, gripping his glass tightly. "They almost died tonight, Sirius."
Sirius laid a hand on James's shoulder, squeezing firmly. "But you're all here. You saved them. You did what you had to. And I'll help you, whatever you need."
James nodded, his anger softening into exhaustion as the weight of it all settled on him. He took a slow sip of his whiskey, finally letting out a long, shuddering breath.
"Thanks, Sirius," he said, voice low and tired. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Sirius offered a half-smile, reassuring but somber. "You'll make it through, James. We all will. Just one day at a time."
Diederick fidgeted nervously, his thin frame practically swallowed by his oversized jacket, its sleeves frayed and patched in places. He kept glancing around the grand salon, where enchanted miniature animals & figures pranced in the air, turning the room into a space of lively magic and color. But for all the wonder on his face, the boy looked painfully out of place.
Richard cast a sidelong glance at Elizabeth, catching the troubled look in her eyes. They shared an unspoken thought: They felt guilty with their overwhelming priviledge in face of his crippling poverty.
Elizabeth cleared her throat gently, drawing Diederick's gaze. He looked up at her and blushed, pulling his hood off in a rush, his curly hair tumbling out. "So, Diederick, is it?" she asked softly.
Diederick nodded, his cheeks flushed. "Y-yes."
Elizabeth offered him a kind smile, though her voice held a hint of curiosity. "I don't think we've seen you at Hogwarts. Could you tell us which house you're in?"
Diederick's eyes dropped to the ground, his blush deepening. He muttered, barely loud enough for them to hear, "I… I don't go to Hogwarts. My guardians couldn't afford it."
Elizabeth's smile faltered. "Oh… I'm really sorry to hear that."
Richard, taken aback, sat up straighter. "But how did you do all that magic during the attack?" he asked, genuinely curious. "You were a ferocious little bugger!"
"Richard!" She chastised before turning to Diederick and telling him to continue.
Diederick looked up, his expression brightening just a little. "I was taught by a retired Auror," he explained. "She didn't have kids of her own, so… well, with all the orphans after Voldemort's first war, she started a small school. For the kids who couldn't go to Hogwarts."
Richard's eyebrows shot up. "Is it still open?" he asked, an edge of hopefulness in his voice.
Diederick shook his head, the light dimming in his eyes. "No. She disappeared a while ago. Without her, the school couldn't keep running. So it closed."
Elizabeth bit her lip, exchanging a sad glance with Richard. "I'm so sorry about your teacher, Diederick," she said softly.
Before Diederick could respond, the door creaked open, and James strode in, looking tired but determined. The three jumped in surprise at his sudden entry.
"No need for anyone to be sorry anymore," James said, his voice steady as he looked directly at Diederick. "Because you'll be joining them at Hogwarts soon enough."
Diederick's eyes widened. "Wh-what?" he stammered, glancing between Richard, Elizabeth, and James.
James crossed the room, plopping down next to Diederick and wrapping a supportive arm around his shoulders. "You helped us twice this week, and I intend to honor the promise I made," he said, pulling out an official-looking envelope. He held it out, and Diederick took it with trembling hands, eyes wide with disbelief.
"What… what is this?" Diederick whispered, his gaze fixed on the letter.
James smiled. "It's an acceptance letter of sorts. You're the first student of the newly-created Potter Foundation, Diederick. It'll cover your education at Hogwarts for as long as you need." He gave Diederick's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "All you have to do is pass an aptitude exam so we can see which year you should enter, based on what you already know."
Diederick stared at the letter in his hands, looking as though he were holding something fragile and precious. His lips trembled as he glanced up at James, gratitude shining in his eyes. "I… I don't know what to say."
James chuckled, ruffling his curls. "No need to say anything. Just do your best. Hogwarts is waiting, kiddo."
Coldest Case
James sat across from Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, with an annoyed scowl etched across his face. She adjusted her glasses and looked at him with a steely expression that James had learned to interpret as her "tough luck" face.
"As you know, the war had left many cases pending due to the auror force being used to combat the Death Eaters." Bones started. "As such, I'm assigning you to handle the cold cases that remain unresolved. Pick one. Any one of your choice."
James scoffed, leaning back in his chair, his eyebrows shooting up in protest. "Cold cases? Come on, Bones, half of what we need for those cases has probably vanished. Most of the magic trails are gone. I should be leading the investigation on the world cup attack!"
"No, Auror James. You won't be doing that." Bones said.
He crossed his arms, his voice dropping to a murmur laced with bitterness. "Feels more like a conspiracy to keep me out of it than anything else."
Bones clenched her jaw but said nothing.
"Care to enlighten me, Madam Bones?"
With a reluctant sigh, Bones folded her hands together, her face softening slightly, though her voice remained firm. "The Minister would prefer someone with a bit less… political standing for this investigation. Someone who wouldn't complicate matters by… airing certain details."
James let out a bitter laugh, the pieces falling into place. "Ah, of course. A less politically powerful investigator is less likely to resist if the Minister decides some aspects need to remain classified. Especially if they highlight any ministerial incompetency."
Bones nodded, the lines of exhaustion on her face more evident. "It's not what I want, James. But trust me, I won't let your career collect dust. I'll have something meaningful for you soon. Something important."
James sighed, seeing the faint weariness in her eyes. He decided not to push her further. Bones wasn't the type to break the rules just because she sympathized, and besides, he could sense she was holding something back—a hint of something larger that she would only share if she absolutely had to. Instead, he turned his gaze to the stack of cold case files she'd gestured to earlier, resigned.
"Fine," he muttered, grabbing the top file. "But don't take too long."
With a slight nod, Bones dismissed him, and he walked back to his office, the file tucked under his arm. He sank into his chair, poured himself a splash of whiskey, and opened the folder. As he skimmed through the documents, he quickly realized that the case had an unsettling history.
The incident in question had occurred in a quiet, unsuspecting Muggle neighborhood—a fire so intense that the Muggle fire department had been completely unable to contain it. Eventually, their sensors had picked up strange fluctuations, a telltale sign of magical interference. Obliviator teams and Aurors had rushed to the scene, but what they found had shaken even the most seasoned officers. The fire had been fueled by a vile, dark magic, casting an ominous, greenish-black hue over the flames, making them eerily resistant to traditional water and fire-suppressant spells.
The report detailed a unique magical process used by the Aurors to extinguish the flames. First, they had to isolate the dark energy by casting a containment charm, creating a shimmering barrier around the cursed flames to slow their spread.
Only then could they use the a banishing spell specifically designed to nullify cursed energy, siphoning away the dark magic fueling the blaze. When they had finally exhausted the fire's power source, the flames had dissipated with an unnatural, shrieking hiss, leaving behind only smoldering remnants.
James frowned, his eyes narrowing as he read further. The scene described in the reports was horrific: the charred remains of a family of four. According to the Aurors' observations, only small fragments of bone had been found, leading some to believe the victims had been entirely consumed by the dark fire, their bones nearly melted in the inferno's magical heat.
The investigation had dragged on for six months, with little to show for it. No clear motive, no signs of entry, and no lingering magical signatures—only a brutal, open-ended mystery that had ultimately been set aside as a "cold case."
James reached the end of the file, flipping to the last page—only to find nothing.
He muttered a quick spell, and his enchanted glasses sprang to life, zooming in on the fine edges, tell tale signs of ripped paper. Whoever had torn out these pages had done it hastily, leaving minuscule flecks of parchment behind.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Even Colder
James sat across from Alastor Moody, the rough-hewn walls of Moody's modest retirement hut framing the sprawling, untamed landscape outside. Moody grunted as he poured two mugs of steaming tea, the scarred fingers of his one good hand steady as they wrapped around the handle.
James fished out a small metallic flask from his pocket, uncapped it, and poured a generous splash into his tea. He held it out to Moody with a sly smile. "Fancy a touch of something stronger?"
Moody leaned over, sniffing the flask's contents, then sneered. "It's twelve in the bloody morning, Potter."
James shrugged, taking a sip. "It's one of those days."
Moody squinted at him, as if weighing something, before he let out a gruff sigh. "One of those days, eh?" With a resigned shake of his head, he reached out and allowed James to pour a splash into his tea as well.
They settled into a companionable silence, sipping from their mugs as they took in the view. Rolling hills stretched out as far as the eye could see, framed by mist and dotted with ancient oaks. James whistled, glancing around with genuine appreciation. "Not bad, Alastor. You've got quite the spot here. This place used to be part of the Muggles' AONB, didn't it?"
"Aye," Moody grunted. "Until the Ministry had to take it over, because the Muggles were about to build a damned shopping district right on top of it."
James laughed, shaking his head, but Moody interrupted him with a gruff look, his magical eye swiveling to meet James's gaze. "Enough pleasantries, Potter. You didn't come all the way to Feldcroft just to share a drink."
James's smile faded as he set his mug down, nodding solemnly. "You're right." He glanced away, gathering his thoughts. "I've hit a wall, Alastor. It's a cold case—an Enigma Level classification."
Moody barked a short laugh, shaking his head. "An Enigma Level? Merlin's teeth. You are in trouble."
James sighed, rubbing his temples. "I didn't even know 'Enigma' was a thing, let alone what it actually means."
"Few do," Moody said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "It's an encryption Scrimgeour designed near the end of the war. Came about after… the Longbottom tragedy." He gave James a hard look, gesturing vaguely in a way that James knew all too well. It was an unspoken reference to that night, the night everything changed.
James felt a grimace tugging at his mouth, memories of Harry bubbling up, as bitter and raw as ever. He forced himself to focus. "Whatever it is, it's so classified I can't even speak to the original team who handled it."
Moody's face darkened, his lips forming a thin line. "Even if you could, it wouldn't matter much. Enigma Level cases are so protected, those involved often voluntarily undergo Obliviation to guard state secrets. They've forgotten everything themselves."
James's mouth fell open, disbelief evident in his expression. "They actually volunteer for that?"
Moody nodded, a shadow of something—regret, perhaps—passing over his features. "Aye. War is hell, James. Some secrets are worth too much to leave lying around."
James sat back, incredulous. "There has to be someone out there who remembers what happened. Someone who could give me even a hint."
Moody considered him, a glint of dark amusement flashing in his good eye. "Oh, there are people who know. It's just that they're impossible to get to."
James narrowed his eyes, an edge of frustration sharpening his tone. "And why is that?"
Moody's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Because, Potter," he drawled, "they can't speak."
The meaning hit James a beat later, and he groaned, exasperated. "Very funny, Alastor. An Unspeakables joke. Brilliant."
Moody chuckled, a rough sound that was more growl than laughter. "The truth's often a nasty joke, James. The Unspeakables hold answers to a lot of things… but they're bound by their very role not to share them. So if you're looking for answers, you'll have to dig a lot deeper than this one tea break."
James slumped back in his chair, feeling the weight of his task settle more heavily on his shoulders.
No Easy Day
ames strolled up to the secretary's desk with a playful grin, holding out a small box of chocolate cookies. "Brought you a little something," he said, his voice smooth. "Just in case you get hungry while managing all those appointments."
The secretary's cheeks turned a deep pink as she accepted the box, shyly pushing her glasses up her nose. "Thank you, Mr. Potter! Um... I could slot you in for an evening appointment if you like, but Madam Bones is busy right now," she stammered, her gaze darting down the hall toward Bones's office.
James gave her an easy smile. "Evening sounds perfect. But, you know, I've just got a few documents for her to sign—won't take more than a minute."
The secretary opened her mouth to protest, but James was already slipping past her. "Mr. Potter—wait!"
Ignoring her protests, he pushed the door open, stepping into Bones's office. He froze for a moment, taking in the scene. Bones was mid-conversation with a distinguished-looking gentleman in a magical mirror perched on her desk. Her gaze flicked up, and she fixed James with a withering glare. But she didn't end the call.
James mouthed an exaggerated "sorry" and lifted the stack of documents, pointing to the spot where her signature was needed. Bones clenched her jaw, her attention still on the mirror, though her irritation was clear. Unfazed, James took a few steps forward, pretending to casually lean over and push her auto-quill closer to her.
Bones tried to ignore him, but when he made an exaggerated show of picking up the quill, her expression shifted to alarm, and she hissed, "Potter!"
Finally, she let out a resigned sigh and gestured for him to stay put. Turning back to the mirror, she gave a clipped nod to her guest. "Forgive the interruption, Monsieur Delacour," she said coolly. "It appears I'm required to deal with a… persistent matter."
Delacour's eyes turned toward James, and his brows rose. "Wait—James Potter?" His face lit up in recognition, and he broke into a smile. "Is it really the James Potter?"
James gave a cheeky grin, tucking the quill behind his ear. "The one and only."
Bones rolled her eyes, but Delacour laughed, seemingly delighted. "Ah, Madame Bones, you did not tell me you had such esteemed visitors!" His accent was thick with pride. "You are well-known in France, Monsieur Potter. Your stand against the Death Eaters has not gone unnoticed."
"Well," James said, leaning casually against Bones's desk, "just a soldier here to help keep things in order. And get a few papers signed, of course."
"Madame Bones," Delacour chuckled, "I think you should oblige him. Evil never sleeps, and we must all do our part."
Bones finally gave in, plucking the stack from James's hand and signing each document with a swift flourish. She pressed the stack back into his hands with a firm nod toward the door. "All done, Potter. Now, if you don't mind—"
"Of course," James said with a grin, nodding to Delacour. "Pleasure meeting you, sir. Let's keep in touch."
Delacour's laughter followed him as he left, and just before the door closed, James could hear Bones mutter, "Incorrigible."
Infiltration
James Potter clutched the stack of search warrants and authorization papers, a satisfied smirk crossing his face. As he rounded a corner, Sirius Black caught up to him, grinning in greeting.
"Well, well, James," Sirius said, glancing down at the bouquet of roses in his friend's hand. "I see you're making rounds with flowers now. Planning on some romantic heroics?"
"Just business," James replied, feigning innocence as he turned his gaze back down the hall.
Sirius clicked the button for level seven, and the two of them stepped into the Ministry's ancient lift. The grating doors clanged shut, and the lift began its descent.
As they reached level seven, the lift announced, Department of Magical Games and Sports, and the doors slid open. Sirius stepped forward, then paused, giving James a sidelong glance as he noticed James had selected level nine.
Sirius's eyes widened, and a knowing smile crept over his face. "Ah… the infamous ninth level," he said, leaning against the door frame. "And here I was, thinking those roses were just a charming touch. Say hi to the Mrs. for me." He winked, stepping out of the elevator.
James smirked as the doors closed, leaving him alone. Just as the lift resumed its descent, a witch with a bundle of scrolls eagerly exited at the next floor, muttering under her breath, "Fools, heading down to hell—don't trust the demons below," she warned, casting a wary glance over her shoulder before the doors shut again.
James ignored the ominous comment as the lift continued its journey, and the voice finally announced, Department of Mysteries. The doors slid open, revealing a cool, empty corridor shrouded in dim, flickering light. James felt a prickle of apprehension but steadied himself, striding forward with purpose.
As he approached a beam of enchanted light, it flared to life, casting an uncomfortably bright spotlight on him. A voice, low and resonant, commanded, "State the purpose of your visit."
James held up the bouquet, waving it slightly. "Just visiting," he said with a cheeky grin.
The light seemed to pause, scrutinizing him for a moment. Then, with a groan, it muttered, "James Potter… again." The door at the end of the hall clicked and swung open, allowing him entry.
Inside, the desk witch narrowed her eyes at him. "An Auror here, without proper authorization?" she demanded, suspicion evident in her voice.
James reached into the bouquet, pulling out the warrants and extending them with a disarming smile. She scowled as she noticed the stamp and signature of Madam Bones. Muttering something about "fools prying into what they don't understand," she took the documents, skimming them with irritation.
"If you think you'll be able to see Lily as well, think again," she added coldly. "Visits aren't allowed here."
James nodded solemnly. "Of course, wouldn't dream of it. Just wanted to drop off the bouquet. But if it's a bother, I'll take it back—no point in wasting Galleons."
She gave the bouquet a quick, suspicious glance, her eyes scanning for any concealed tricks. Finding none, she dismissed him with a wave. James tucked the flowers back under his arm and, after checking to make sure her attention was elsewhere, slipped into a narrow hallway leading deeper into the Department.
According to his papers, his warrant only covered access to the archives, but James knew from his old reconnaissance days that what he needed wouldn't be in the publicly accessible sections. He'd come prepared for the thrill of bending the rules. Ever since the war he had been sitting on his rear doing nothing exciting. He need the rush damn it!
Hidden within the bouquet was his trusty invisibility cloak, which he quickly donned before heading towards the restricted sections of the archive. He felt a surge of excitement, the familiar thrill of sneaking into places where others dared not tread.
He moved carefully through the labyrinthine aisles of filing cabinets, each drawer labeled with coded abbreviations and numbers. It took a moment, but he finally located the section labeled "Cold Cases - Enigma Level." A locked cabinet stood before him, imposing and silent.
Reaching into his cloak, James retrieved a small unlocking charm tool. After a moment's work, he felt the lock click open, and he gingerly pulled the drawer, revealing rows of files labeled with unsettling events and mysteries—cases deemed unsolvable or too dangerous for the average investigator.
He quickly located the file he'd been after. Opening it cautiously, he skimmed the initial pages: a brief overview, incident details, and several ominous warnings. The first few paragraphs recounted how a fire had mysteriously engulfed an entire neighborhood, one so intense that even the Muggle fire departments couldn't control it. The Aurors had eventually intervened after detecting traces of raw dark magic on the scene.
James's eyebrows shot up as he continued reading. The file grew more disturbing as it detailed what seemed to be cognito hazards warnings associated with the case. Aurors on site had reported experiencing strange visions and eerie whispers in their minds—an effect believed to be linked to extradimensional entities that had apparently manifested in the area before vanishing without a trace. Several Aurors had required treatment after claiming to see "beings from the other side," strange and abstract forms that defied all natural shapes, only glimpsed at the edges of vision.
His stomach churned as he read these descriptions, feeling an uneasy sense that this case had darker layers than he'd imagined. Skipping through to find an address, he felt his eyes struggle to make out the words—it was as if the letters were constantly shifting, preventing him from reading them clearly. Then it struck him: the address was hidden under a Fidelius Charm!
The same thing that Dumbledore had used to hid them all those years ago…. Before he betrayed them…..
As if recognizing that James knew their disguize the spell's power weakened to allow him to partially read the address.
Privet Drive.
Privet Drive
James entered the house cautiously, his hand steady on his wand, his body taut under the weight of his armor. As soon as he'd arrived, he felt an unnatural shift, as though an invisible fog had lifted. The address, once hazy in his memory, was now perfectly clear, solidifying with an unsettling precision in his mind.
Someone had lifted the Fidelius Charm. Someone knew he was coming.
The house was a ruin. Charred beams hung crookedly from the ceiling, burnt furniture lay in ashen heaps, and though years had passed since the fire, the air reeked of dark magic, thick and oppressive. Every step he took through the remains of the house seemed to pull him deeper into an eerie stillness.
He explored each corner of the house, and just as he was about to leave, he noticed it: a small, narrow cupboard tucked beneath the staircase. The door creaked open as if in answer to his presence, revealing a cramped, blackened space. Wand raised, James leaned forward, muttering a quiet Lumos. The cupboard was barren save for a narrow bed frame charred beyond recognition. But as he raised the light, he noticed something else, something that made his stomach twist.
On the far wall was a symbol etched into the scorched wood, one that he'd never seen before: eight arrows, splayed out in a radial pattern, almost like a twisted compass. As he stared, a chill crept up his spine. The longer he looked, the more something seemed to crawl under his skin, a sensation that felt like an itch deep within his mind, clawing for release.
Without warning, an echo of laughter burst into his head. Dark, mocking, and close enough to feel the heat of breath against his ear. Shadows moved at the edges of his vision, warping the room into a twisted memory. In the center of it, he saw a small boy, curled in on himself in the darkness of the cupboard, eyes wide and hollow, limbs thin and bruised. The boy's clothes hung off him in loose tatters, and he looked starved, his skin pale, his cheeks sunken.
James's breath hitched, and he felt an anger—one that came not just from the sight of neglect, but a darker, more primal fury clawing its way up. And as he continued to look, the laughter in his mind grew louder, sharpening, jagged and cruel.
Then came the visions: the boy, huddled in the dark while his relatives feasted at a lavishly set table, voices of harsh, dismissive scorn echoing around him. The boy pressed his fingers to the cold wood of the cupboard door, watching through a crack, his stomach clenching in silent, desperate longing. He looked so alone, so abandoned. The vision twisted into darkness, and the laughter boomed louder, raw and spiteful, seeping from the walls, as though the house itself was mocking the child's misery.
The symbol on the wall seemed to glow in James's vision, its sharp lines piercing deeper into his mind. He couldn't shake it. It was like it was feeding off him—off his emotions, his memories—drawing him into its cruel, sinister design. His mind reeled as he fought to pull back.
With a sharp breath, he forced himself to look away, tearing his gaze from the wall as if breaking free from a spell. His heart pounded in his chest, and he stumbled back, clutching his wand as though it were a lifeline, grounding him back to the present. Slowly, the laughter faded, leaving an empty ringing in his ears, but the sick feeling in his gut lingered.
Taking a shaky breath, James scanned the room once more. The symbol's presence felt as dark and ancient as the magic that clung to the air, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was tied to something far beyond his knowledge. This was no ordinary curse. Someone—or something—had scarred this place with magic so vile that it lingered like a bruise even years after the fire.
As he turned to leave the cupboard, he glanced back at the symbol, and for a moment, it seemed to shift before his eyes, twisting like something alive. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was watching him, marking him.
He backed out of the room, every sense heightened, his wand steady but his mind racing. The anger he'd felt, the vision of that child, the symbol… It was all too much, as if the remnants of dark magic weren't just traces but alive, reaching for him, weaving into his mind.
Leaving the house, James drew in the cold night air, feeling the weight of the dark magic lift slightly but not entirely. Whatever had happened in that cupboard was far darker, more twisted, than he had ever imagined.
Fin
Author Notes: Read and Review