CHAPTER 60: THE HAMMER AND THE ANVIL
London. London and its hundreds of thousands of inhabitants, its numerous neighborhoods, churches, palaces, major streets, shops... Of that London, James could only see the tall buildings in the distance, lost among the roofs and the tops of the tallest trees, under a graying sky occasionally shedding a few showers onto the increasingly muddy and poorly maintained streets as they moved away from the center of the capital.
He was currently on one of those streets, stopped in a carriage he had rented for the occasion and hoped to quickly disembark from to stretch his legs. The London he loved lay behind him, certainly not in this rundown neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, filled with old houses sheltering the shadiest individuals he had ever seen... Or perhaps it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, or simply the fear of being in a place that was entirely unfamiliar to him. Across from him, Dumbledore appeared perfectly calm, humming a tune while gazing out of the carriage. James couldn't help but admire the composure that characterized the headmaster of Hogwarts on this occasion. How could one approach this situation with such serenity, such nonchalance, when all he hoped for was to return home, place his feet on a cushion in front of a roaring fireplace, and read the latest edition of the Daily Prophet? Although... Reading that rag, slandering his son with the worst names for the past two weeks, wasn't exactly a pleasant prospect.
The truth was that James was currently in a foul mood, partly due to the smear campaign launched against him and his son for speaking nothing but the truth about Voldemort, their failure since then to find any clues about the whereabouts of his wife and son, and partly due to freezing in this carriage amidst the most miserable and repulsive part of London. Moreover, this journey wasn't helping matters. Despite his reluctance to tangle with a Muggle mode of transportation, Dumbledore had insisted on using it, arguing that an impromptu arrival by Apparition amidst Muggles would be highly inappropriate, and that they couldn't Apparate to a place they had never set foot in before.
What luck, indeed... What possessed his sister-in-law to settle here?! Couldn't she have chosen somewhere else, somewhere less austere? Was it in the Evans family's genes to be so insufferable?! The difficulty in finding her had been significant already, and James had lost count of the hours spent sifting through records of different districts of London before finally discovering that Petunia lived in the Newham district not far from the Thames.
And now here he was, on the roads, searching for a sister-in-law he had hardly seen except for one solitary occasion, hoping to make progress in his hunt for Lily Potter and their son. But London being a vast city, and their coachman apparently never having bothered to navigate this remote corner of the capital... They were currently lost, and Sirius, with his uncanny ability to converse with people, had volunteered to try and get them out of this mess by approaching some locals. From his window, James couldn't see him, but he hoped Sirius would act swiftly so they could leave; not that he was afraid, but caution was preferable.
His thoughts drifted back to his wife—or at least, that's what he had thought until recently. But the recent discoveries about her through their investigations had significantly altered the cards for both of them. Indeed, Dumbledore had suggested, immediately after the ordeal, to start the search by focusing on anything that might link him closely or remotely to his wife, whether it was some form of kinship, a contract made, or any other lead that could bring him closer to his goal. Similar searches had been conducted in the past to locate her, back when Lily had just left their marital home, but truthfully, nothing truly deliberate or reasoned had been considered; both James and Dumbledore had merely scratched the surface of search possibilities, even resorting, it must be admitted, to coercion in attempts to bring her back, but nothing had worked. James had then decided to move on from her and live his own life outside the realm of his wife.
However, the reasons driving him to find her now were entirely different, particularly concerning their eldest son. James knew a profound bond connected them both, and he had no doubt that if the mother was in one place, the son must be by her side, or Lily knew enough to guide them in their search. Thus, for the first time in years, he stepped into Gringotts not to withdraw a sum of money once more but to review the contracts he had in place with companies, business partners, and especially those connecting him to his wife... Anything that could bring him closer to his ultimate goal and where Lily's name appeared.
What a surprise he had when he discovered that not only had he seldom associated his wife with his affairs, but she had unilaterally terminated their marriage contract!
"Everything is in order, Lord Potter," assured the goblin handling their affairs, pointing with his crooked finger at his wife's signature written in blood. "Your wife has renounced all her rights regarding your family's assets, your properties, the perks derived from her Lady Potter title, as well as any claims your eldest son might have had on your fortune."
Stunned; that would indeed have aptly described the state he found himself in at that moment. Yet, beyond astonishment, it was fury that prevailed in him as he thought that it was his wife who had divorced him, not the other way around. What a humiliation! No self-respecting man could conceive for a single moment not having the final say in that decision! If this were to become known, surely many lords in the Wizengamot would mock him!
James had also been surprised to learn that she had absolutely relinquished everything, including her fortune. Deep down, he knew that at the time, he probably wouldn't have left her anything anyway, but still, her taking that initiative bewildered him entirely. Had Lily lost her mind, or had she abandoned, without the slightest hesitation, the money she might have hoped to receive from him? Was living in poverty a lesser evil for her than living with him? This realization struck him as much as it hurt and made him feel like he must truly be a monster to lead to such an extreme. As for their son... on what grounds did she permit herself to make him relinquish all claims to their family's possessions? Did she even have that right? James had disowned and disinherited him, but he could have still reversed that decision and reinstated him to his rightful place... theoretically, at least. But this renouncement, written in Lily's own hand and signed with a "Harry Potter" at the bottom of the page, mainly suggested that his son himself wanted in no way to succeed his father and manage the family accounts.
"Ungrateful brat," James muttered at that moment as his hands trembled with fury while holding the piece of paper.
The goblin, while readily presenting the few contracts that tied him to his wife through their signatures, flatly refused to disclose the year, place, and circumstances during which Lily had chosen to definitively cut ties with him. Despite pleas, lamentations, and threats, all he managed to get was a straightforward dismissal from the bank with a warning. He received only a recommendation on the use of his money, which the creature deemed he spent with excessive zeal and detachment.
"If you're not careful, your fortune will vanish into thin air," it calmly stated as James was escorted out by two goblin guards in armor.
Disregarding the advice, James simply retorted that a lord should not be treated this way by his banker. But the goblin replied that within the walls of Gringotts, goblin laws prevailed over those of wizards, and disrespect towards their members was not tolerated.
With all this, James had forgotten to ask his manager if his eldest son's name appeared on any documents. Yet, he quickly realized that his son also had no contracts connecting him to James when he analyzed the stack of scrolls handed to him by the goblin. Only three documents retained any trace of Harry: his birth certificate, which was utterly useless to him, his renunciation of the Potter lordship that he had been forced to sign, and finally, the marriage contract with Daphne Greengrass, which had been broken by the girl's family for non-compliance with the contract's clauses. In short, James had no administrative leverage to force his son to return, nor anything to trace back to his wife and consequently to the rest of his family. To put it simply, he was in a mess, but he hoped that this second approach focusing on Lily's family and loved ones might prove more decisive in his searches than the first.
He was abruptly brought out of his thoughts by the opening of their carriage door, and moments later, Sirius appeared in the doorway, looking more cheerful than before, but also more disheveled and drenched.
"A guy told me we should look for a bakery in that direction," Sirius indicated, pointing to one side of the street from one of the windows. "It would be called 'The Grain in the Mill' or something like that, and it should be at the corner of a crossroad. Then we have to take the first street to the left of it and walk for a few minutes. I've already informed the coachman."
"Wonderful," James sighed, rolling his eyes. "Nothing better than a little stroll in one of the most squalid neighborhoods I've ever seen in my life! Although... Eventually, we might almost feel like we're in Knockturn Alley!"
"At least in the future, you'll know where your dear sister-in-law lives," his best friend mockingly reminded him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "You won't need to hire the services of a carriage to visit her; you can simply Apparate directly to her place!"
"As if I wanted to see that poor girl again," James grumbled before giving a few sharp taps outside the carriage with his cane. "Go on!"
Immediately, their carriage moved, and all three of them again endured the hardships of the poorly paved and muddy alley they were traveling on, as well as the pedestrians unwilling to move aside to give them space or carts far too slow for their taste that blocked their way. What should have been a five-minute journey took more than twice the necessary time, but in the end, the bakery mentioned by Sirius did appear at the intersection of several streets. Following the instructions, James instructed his coachman to turn left and enter an alley just as small and narrow as the one previously visited. Here too, the houses were incredibly unattractive, at least in his eyes, made of stone likely turned grey by time and dirt, so narrow that there was barely enough space for a door and a window... When, by chance, some had a tiny square of land marked off by hastily placed wooden planks.
Was this really where Petunia lived? James had never bothered to wonder about his sister-in-law's living conditions, and truthfully, he couldn't care less. But to imagine that his own wife might have benefited from her help to live in this rat hole... it turned his stomach! No, it was impossible; Lily would never have agreed to raise her children in such conditions. Considering the magical protections surrounding her, he was convinced his wife must be living in a much healthier, greener, and quieter environment... the kind of living conditions suited for a proper woman in a way, though he himself wouldn't balk at such conditions to live decently.
Their journey finally stopped a few dozen meters further when the coachman halted his horses in front of an establishment relatively larger than any other house around but whose outward appearance was barely more presentable.
"Le Marteau et l'Enclume," James muttered to himself, seeing the establishment's sign shake slightly in a sudden breeze. "I wonder what went through my sister-in-law's mind to come up with a name like that."
"Because 'The Leaky Cauldron' or 'The Hog's Head' are better, perhaps?" Sirius argued with a smile. "Muggles aren't any more inspired than us in imagining shop names."
The coachman approached the carriage door, and once it was opened, he unfolded the tiny folding staircase allowing the passengers to disembark. Decreeing that the elderly had priority in certain cases, Dumbledore descended first from the carriage, but he quickly regretted that choice when he set foot... in a putrid puddle that instantly soaked the hem of his wizard robe; James almost swore he could hear him! Following suit, he descended, making sure to avoid the deceptive puddle, but still, his silk stockings were slightly stained by a few drops whose content he was unaware of, yet it managed to infuriate him instantly.
"Damn it!" he cursed, restraining the urge to use his wand in public to clean himself. "What were you thinking, stopping in front of that puddle, you imbecile?!"
"M-my apologies, Sir," the coachman stammered, although his cheeks turned a vivid red, far from indicating he was ashamed or embarrassed.
"Believe me, it will be deducted from the sum I owe you!" he added, as Sirius managed to exit their carriage without any hindrance or inconvenience. "Wait for us here now, we won't be long."
"It's just that... I might obstruct the traffic, Sir," the man nervously informed.
"Pardon?" James said, looking down at him. "I thought I heard complaints coming from your mouth, but I probably imagined them, didn't I?"
The man seemed entirely capable of asserting the opposite with a good punch to the face, but while his hands clenched in anger, he didn't go that far.
"I'll wait here for you, Sir," he said coldly, lowering his gaze.
"That settles it!" exclaimed James delightedly. "Come on, let's quickly enter this place," he added, gesturing toward the tavern's entrance.
The three of them hurried inside as if rain were suddenly about to pour down on them, disregarding the drunkard who tried to enter before them and whom James shamelessly pushed back onto the street. They stepped inside and were immediately greeted by a strong, rancid smell mixing alcohol, sweat, and... other things. As James had imagined, the place was rather... picturesque. Dirt seemed to have made itself at home inside, just like everywhere else in the neighborhood, and the low windows with stained glass barely let in any natural light. Candles and lanterns had been haphazardly fixed all around the main room, just like the furniture, which made no sense and showed no concern for detail. Tables were scattered randomly, surrounded by chairs, benches, and frequently simple barrels, while tablecloths were placed to offer a semblance of luxury to the place. A single fireplace at the back of the room let the few remaining embers die in its hearth, while a multitude of kitchen utensils were arranged all around it and fixed to the grayish stone wall.
"A few wooden posts supported the upper floors, and, to further explain the reason behind this place's name, its owners had also hung hammers on the beams and ceiling panels. The place was shrouded in some darkness, and through the faint light emitted by the candles, James and the others could make out numerous gloomy silhouettes, their outlines discernible. They also noticed two solitary doors further into the room, probably leading, one to the upper floor and the other to a kitchen or cellar. However, what struck them the most was not the surrounding dirt or the pungent smell of alcohol mixed with fish, but the silence that descended the moment they entered; not a single conversation continued, not a hint of a murmur or sudden cough to give any semblance of life to this tavern… Only silence, and pairs of eyes, both curious and wary, watching them like circus animals.
'We'd better sit down,' Sirius discreetly advised, nodding toward an empty table near the window.
Not needing further encouragement, all three made their way there, trying to navigate through the unkempt and unfriendly clientele who continued to stare at them.
'A change of attire wouldn't have gone amiss,' whispered James as he looked at the shabby and dirty clothes of most of the present customers.
The idea was not negligible or foolish in itself, but none of the three had imagined stumbling upon an establishment of this kind or even thought that Lily's sister could live in such a place. Yet, it was Dumbledore's attire that drew attention; far from the silk stockings and velvet suit of his two companions, the headmaster settled for his usual wizard's robe, often consisting of an accumulation of sequins, lunar representations, and a matching pointed hat. Needless to say, he easily attracted attention.
All three finally took their respective seats, and at that moment, conversations resumed as if nothing had happened, although, as James noted with a hint of irritation, occasional mockery was directed their way, particularly aimed at Dumbledore's attire.
A waitress, barely older than Matthew and wearing a particularly dirty apron around her waist and over her torn long skirt, finally approached them, a cloth in her hands as she adjusted her scarf over her hair.
'What'll Merlin have?' she casually tossed at them, glancing at the old man in front of her.
'Although the comparison honors me, mademoiselle, I'm unfortunately not the famous wizard Merlin,' he replied cheerfully, while the young girl seemed utterly disinterested in what he was saying. 'If it's not too much trouble, I'd like a cup of tea, please.'
'We don't do that here,' she said sharply. 'It's beer, cider, wine, water, or a bowl of milk for the faint-hearted,' she added, briefly glancing at James and Sirius.
Matthew's father's cheeks immediately flushed a deep red at the slight directed at him, but a kick from Sirius under the table restrained his desire to engage in hostilities with the waitress.
'We'll each have cider then,' ordered his best friend, flashing the most charming smile he could muster at the young girl.
She nodded and walked away without acknowledging them. They just heard her giggle a few meters away when a sailor, bolder than the others, slapped her backside.
'Why cider?' James asked, furrowing his brow. 'I hate that stuff!'
'Believe me, I know this kind of place, and it's probably the only drink that won't make you sick,' asserted Sirius. 'These people spend their time getting drunk because the well or cistern water is much deadlier than the alcohol they craft, sometimes even giving it to children barely three apples high due to the lack of clean water for them.'
'Okay, but why not beer or wine?' he asked, absentmindedly tapping on their table.
'Their beers are disgusting, and you're never sure of what they might add discreetly to play a trick on you,' replied his best friend, suppressing a shiver. 'As for wine, these establishments tend to hike up the price of a bottle way higher than its actual value, and since it's contraband, expect a very unpleasant surprise upon opening it.'
'You seem quite knowledgeable about this, Sirius,' Dumbledore interjected. 'These kinds of small eateries seem very familiar to you from frequent visits in the past, don't they?'"
"At that moment, Sirius had the decency to lower his gaze as shame washed over him, but the headmaster merely offered a thin mocking smile to express the prevailing sentiment regarding his former student's behavior. However, the three of them did not have the misfortune of prolonging the awkward moment that had arisen at their table because the waitress was already returning to them, holding a tray with three dirty glasses in one hand and a bottle of slightly yellowish liquid in the other. In silence, she served each of them, and while James and Dumbledore acknowledged her with a simple nod, Sirius directed a huge, seductive smile at the young girl, to which she did not respond at all, or perhaps did not even notice.
'Wait!' called out the headmaster as she began to move away after Sirius had paid for the bottle. 'We would like to ask you a small favor if you don't mind...'
'If it's for an extra, I don't do old men or group plans,' she immediately retorted.
"N-no, of course not, and that's not why I approached you," Dumbledore quickly clarified, while James and his best friend suppressed the urge to laugh.
'Good, because I have customers to serve who are waiting for me here,' the waitress replied curtly.
'We... We would like to speak with the one who employs you, a certain... Petunia Dursley if I remember correctly...' the headmaster said, feigning uncertainty.
'She ain't here,' she affirmed before turning away from them.
'Are you sure?' inquired Dumbledore immediately. 'James, could you give this young lady a little something to refresh her memory, please?'
James immediately furrowed his brows, reluctant to once again serve as a bag of Galleons for the old man, but nonetheless, he reluctantly agreed to this small favor, quickly fishing out a handful of shiny coins from his pocket. The waitress widened her eyes so much at this sight that all three men thought they might pop out of their sockets. However, instead of that happening, the coins quickly changed hands, and with a much fuller and jingling apron pocket, the waitress addressed them again, her tone much friendlier than before.
'Oh, I think Madame is in her husband's office,' she falsely remembered, nodding her head. 'Wait here, I'll inform her immediately!'
The three men watched her once again move toward one of the doors before disappearing behind it. Then, sighing, James ruefully jostled his coat pocket, now much lighter than before entering. At least he hoped it was worth it...
'You could have used your salary money, Albus,' he grumbled, glaring at him. 'The money the Ministry of Magic pays you for your position was certainly enough to bribe that girl...'
'I didn't ask you to give her that much either,' Dumbledore calmly retorted. 'You could have started with a few coins and seen if more was needed to convince her to help.'
Though furious, this anger quickly turned against himself as he realized that indeed, he could have waited before dipping into the savings he had on him in such a manner. But the deed was done, and now, this waitress was certainly not likely to return any part of the sum given unless there was a substantial service in return. However, his guilt at having given her all those coins slightly diminished when he saw approaching them a woman whom, at first glance, he would not have recognized; dressed in clothes less coarse than her employees, wearing a surprisingly clean white scarf given the surrounding environment, and an apron that looked almost new, Petunia Dursley was making her way toward their table with a light step, occasionally nodding to a customer she knew while trying to appear less neglected by smoothing down her dress.
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