Pinky Promise

[1]

He hadn't meant any harm really.

He just wanted to have some fun.

Video games were pretty damn fun. Well...video game rather, since he only had one. His Nintendo DS had one game for it and that was Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow, which he knew as Game Boy Advance and not DS because the GBA game carts were much thicker.

He counted himself lucky he had that much. The DS wasn't technically his to begin with. He'd nicked it from one of the neighbor's kids. A big, dumb brat named Thomas Barty. He played it after bedtime, but only until he was absolutely sure that his nose-wipe of a brother was asleep. He always knew when he was, because the nose-wipe was always tossing and turning. Always having nightmares. Like a baby.

But Aria of Sorrow was really fun. Especially on Hard Mode. And it was always really cool watching Soma Cruz get all these different spells from the monsters he was killing. It was even cooler when you got further into the game and you stumbled across your first magic weapon. There was fire and ice and lighting. There were even dark weapons, like Death's Scythe, and dark spells like Legion's lasers; but those weren't so good because like half of the enemies in the castle were undead zombies and skeletons and they didn't take much damage from darkness. It was the same thing with demons. The final boss, Chaos, was dark-based too.

The Holy element—now that was good. The Ronginus Spear and Mystletain and especially Claimh Solais.

So the take away? Magic was great. Magic was awesome.

And so of course James had asked his parents for a wand before he would be shipped off to Hogwarts. Kids weren't really supposed to have wands or use magic before schooling. But James wasn't a kid. He was ten for goodness sake. As far as he was concerned, he was an adult. An adult who ate marshmallows right out of the bag and went over to Bobby's house to watch Samurai Jack on Toonami.

His mother—being a mother—was of course a total killjoy. If "fun" was a person, she would have killed it in its sleep. But dad had seen things his way, thankfully, and so now he had a wand.

[2]

His dad had even taught him a few spells. Wingardium Leviosa was hard at first, but he got the hang of it. It was all about swishing and flicking the shit out of your wrist but not being too crazy about it.

"Remember James." his dad had said. "A wand is a tool. Not a toy."

But James was too busy waving his wand through the air. It made little fireworks pop off the end. It was really cool.

"James."

He looked at his dad. He was smiling, but in a way that let James know he was slowly getting pissed off with his antics.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Uh...yes?"

They were in the living room and it was the evening. Albus was sick in bed. Ria was out late helping Daphne over at Othello's. She had to now that Cassio's health was failing.

"Then what did I say?"

"Something about root beer?"

His dad grinned. "You want a wet willy?"

"No!" James cried in mock fear.

"Then listen up, kiddo." His dad's grin was gone. He was serious now.

And James had to be too. "Okay."

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I want to catch bad guys like you."

He thought that would make his dad smile. It didn't. His dad looked a bit scary. Not as scary as his mom. His mom was scary in a way that James couldn't describe. Not yet.

"Well James, what do you think those bad guys are using to hurt people?"

James looked confused. "A wand right? All wizards and witches have wands."

"Right, kiddo. A wand can do lots of terrible things. I've seen people get covered in stinging welts. I've seen people get cuts opened up on their bodies. I've seen people crippled with pain. I've seen people get their minds taken over."

He said the next words with great effort, to the point where even James was able to notice.

"I've seen people killed, James. I've seen a man—a brave man—killed right in front of me."

"I'm sorry."

It was the only thing James could say.

Harry withdrew his own wand. James couldn't remember what kind of wood it was (wood was boring) but it had a phoenix hair...or feather...or whatever, for its core.

James' wand had dragon heartstring from a Hungarian horntail, which was really cool. Dragons were cool.

"I don't want to teach you any combat spells, yet," his dad said, "Except for two."

"Which?" James asked.

"The first is Expelliarmus." his dad said. "If someone tries to attack you, knock the wand out of their hands."

James was shown the wand movement for it.

Then his dad moved some distance away and faced his son. He raised his own wand to eye-level but kept it pointed at the ceiling.

"Try it"

Wand at eye-level James hesitated. He didn't know why.

"Come on James. Don't worry, it won't hurt me."

No, James knew it wouldn't, yet every inch of his body felt that it was wrong. Why should a kid point a wand at his parent?

"Expelliarmus."

A sphere of orange light shot towards him. James aimed the spell for his hand, hoping to hit the wand.

His dad leaned far to the left. The spell didn't even graze his shoulder. It struck the far wall, shaking the family photo above the fireplace.

"Excellent cast, James." his dad said. But in spite of the compliment, he wasn't smiling. "But why didn't you aim it at my chest or stomach?"

"Well—I—" James stammered.

His dad stared at him, face calm.

"I thought you wanted me to knock your wand away." James finally said.

"I do. James, what's the name of the spell?"

"The Disarming Charm."

"That is correct. The Disarming Charm." his dad said. "Not the Disarming-Charm-that-only-works-when-you-hit-the-hand."

James finally got it. "Oh."

"When you aim at one of the extremities, the—"

"The what?"

"Extremities James. The hands and feet. When you aim at them, all the other guy has to do is move them ten centimeters in any direction. Their reflexes might not be good enough to move in time, but if you are fighting someone who's a good duelist, then that probably won't be the case."

He pointed at his chest, "Aim here," then at his stomach, "Or here. That way the person will have to move his whole body out of the way. Or block it with a Shield Charm. When they block it with a Shield Charm. And when they are blocking, James, what are they not doing?"

"Attacking." James said immediately.

Now his dad was smiling. And that made him smile too.

"Good boy! Now try again."

[3]

Two days after Harry's lesson, Albus was in good health.

Since both parents worked, James and Albus were alone that day. Mom had wanted to leave them at the Burrow. Godmom Molly loved having kids over. James actually would have preferred it. He could go around and do what he wanted while gran pinched Al's cheeks right off his face.

But godmom and goddad were vacationing over in Egypt. And all of their parents' friends had regular 9 to 5 jobs.

It sucked. Looking after Al totally sucked. Not because he would wander around, but because he didn't. He did nothing but stay in his room reading books.

James loved to wander around. At age 5 he'd snuck into a neighbor's house after bedtime. At age 7, he'd gone all the way into a completely different city. He'd wound up next to a man without a home. He'd had a guitar and played, like, five different songs just for James.

It drove his parents up the wall, but oh well. He wanted to go out and see things. But his mother said if he kept on doing it, both she and dad would agree not to send him to Hogwarts. He'd have to go work at an onion factory instead.

"Do they even have those?" James had asked with a raised eyebrow. "That sounds so 19th century."

"Do you want to find out?" mom had answered back.

Truth be told, he did not, so he had decided to cool it.

Now, he was making a sandwich for the nose-wipe. James didn't like making food for other people. Making food was something parents did for kids. He especially didn't like making food for Al because Al was a nose-wipe and he sucked.

What made it worse is that Al could make his own food. In fact he probably knew more about cooking than James did. One time James had been on the toilet, taking his sweet time because he was looking at one of the underwear catalogue's mom had throughout the house.

Before he knew what was going on, there was a female scream from downstairs.

He put his pants back up and went, thinking that perhaps there was a robber. A female robber surprised by Albus just sitting on the couch and reading and doing absolutely nothing.

As he went downstairs, he realized the temp of the house was really damn hot. It had been chilly when he went into the bathroom.

The noise and crap was coming from the kitchen. When he went in there, what he saw could've been a still photo. She'd dropped all the groceries she'd been holding. Ice cream and apples and a two liter of soda was splattered all across the floor, much of it soaking mom's pants.

Albus was standing by the oven. The door was open and he bent as if to peer into it, but his head was turned and he was facing mom instead and his eyes were about as big as dinner plates. From the smell of things, he was trying to make blueberry muffins, which were only the most amazing thing ever.

Mom screamed. Then she paddled Albus, which made James laugh. The nose-wipe went up the stairs, crying, apologizing. James kept laughing.

Then mom turned to him.

"You were supposed to be watching him." was all she said. Her voice was calm, which meant she was worse than upset. There was no fighting back or arguing against what happened next.

His ass still hurt with the unfair memory of it. Mom had been in tears when she was done.

And mom had let them eat the muffins anyway.

It made him so angry he wanted to spit in the sandwich he just made for him. But that kind of thing is really gross, and he didn't hate his brother that much.

"Al!" he called. "Soups on!"

He had no idea why he said something like that, since this obviously wasn't soup. But his dad said it whenever he cooked food and that was good enough for him.

No answer from the living room. Al had been there last he checked.

"Al!" he called again. And again no answer.

"Damn it, Al." he grunted. James put the hot sandwich at the kitchen table and went to go look for him. He opened the front door. Al wasn't outside. Duh. He wasn't in the living room either.

All that left was the bedroom James unfortunately shared with him.

He opened the door and the little nose-wipe was sitting on his bed, holding James Nintendo DS like he owned the thing. He wasn't even supposed to know about it.

James saw red.

[4]

When Ria came home from Othello's, the TV in the living room was on. It was Shakespeare, specifically. In it, three witches were faffing about with a cauldron.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

Ria stopped. She heard something.

Crying.

It was faint at first. Faint enough for her to wonder if that whole "descent into madness" thing was already starting.

"Jim?" she asked. "Al?"

But she said it quietly, not really sure as to why.

The sound was coming stronger from the stairs. She stepped up them quietly. She was good at being quiet. She didn't call out anyone's name

The bedroom door was wide open. The crying was much louder now.

She walked through.

James had his wand out. He was pointing it at Al, who was floating three meters off the ground. James was yelling angrily and Al was blubbering.

The feeling was like her blood being boiled without her consent. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her lungs felt like they wouldn't take any air. Her hands clenched into fists. Somewhere, in her mind, there was a large whistle going off.

(she was going down the hill 90 an hour when the whistle broke into a scream)

She was able to make out the first two words the two of them said. James said "It's mine..." and Albus said "I'm sorry." After that, the rage took over, burning her ears, making their words hazy and indistinct.

(she was found in the wreck with her hand on the throttle)

She tried to form words, but they wouldn't come. Her mouth moved soundlessly.

(she was scalded to death by the steam)

Words came at last.
"What are you doing?" she said softly.

James jumped into the air. It broke the spell and Albus fell flat on his face.

When James turned around. His face was fearful.

"Mom. Albus was—"

"Shut up."

James swallowed. His eyes were wide and he stood frozen. Albus was slowly picking himself off the floor, wiping his wet face.

"What were you doing?" she asked.

"Albus, he—"

"SHUT UP!" she screamed.

James flinched, dropping his wand. He didn't sob but already the waterworks were going on.

"I asked you James Sirius Potter, what you were doing?"

No answer. They'd been through this shit so many times before. Al does something to piss him off, James lashes out and, and then every time he had to pay up, he wanted to talk about what Al had done. Mom, Al stole my textbook. Mom, Al threw a spitwad at me. Mom, Al told me to eat shit. Mom, Al voted for Donald Drumpf for King of America.

Ria didn't give a shit about what Al had said or done. If James ever bothered telling her or Harry, they could deal with it and leave James alone. But no, James Potter was James Potter. And when he wiped his ass, the color on the paper was rainbow and sparkling.

"Since you seem to be a loss for words for once," Ria hissed. "Let me help you along. You were using spells on your little brother."

No answer, James was looking at the floor.

"You're an intelligent boy, James." Ria said. "Every time you hit Al, we paddled you for it. Every. Single. Time."

She punctuated the words by clapped her hands together and James flinched each time.

"I would think you would get the message eventually, right?"

No answer. Al was standing up now.

"I would also think that some rules in this damn house would be implied."

She cocked her head at him. "Do you know what implied means James?"

She thought he wouldn't answer. But he did: "I-it means w-w-when something guh-goes without s-s-saying."

She laughed, and even to her own ears it sounded frantic and insane. "That's right James! The Sorting Hat will put you into Ravenclaw for sure! So what's implied in this house? What 'goes without saying?' Well I can just start and finish with the most important one. Never use spells on your brother! You know why? I'm going to show you."

She took out her wand.

The voice of her mother: What are you doing, Astoria?

"Mom, I—" Al started.

James was struck with the Wingardium before his brother could finish the sentence. James was sent into the air. Not gently, like he'd done with Albus, but brutally. He was jerked up a good four meters, and then stopped abruptly.

Stop Astoria!

James squealed like a piglet that had stepped on a nail. She waved the wand around. James jerked left and right, his arms pin-wheeling uselessly. Al was yelling something but his words were lost in the rage.

"Stop!" Al shouted.

Ria gave the wand a twirl. James began to flip through the air. James was crying. What right did he have to cry about anything? These people. All of them were the same. It didn't matter what they called themselves: Death Eaters, commies, Nazis. They were all a reflection of that sin which was as timeless as dust itself. The strong using their power to hurt the weak. But then the tables got turned and then they had the nerve to ask—even demand—mercy.

And now it was taking place in her own house and she would not stand for it. Not even for a second.

"Do you like it James?!" Ria asked. "Do you like it when someone is hurting you and there's nothing you can do about it?! Do you love it?! Is it a 9 out of 10?!"

"Let me go!" James screamed. Snot ran down his face.

"Expelliarmus!" came a small, frightened voice. Ria's wand wasn't knocked out of her hand, but it dropped to the floor.

There was a meaty thud as James came crashing down.

She stared at the wand. She looked up.

Al had James' wand in both hands. Neither was steady and the wand jittered and jived like a divining rod. It didn't at all change the fact that he was aiming it directly at her. Tears ran down his face.

"Stop." Al said. It was all he was capable of saying.

James was a huddle mess on the floor. His bladder had completely let go and the warm, pungent smell of urine filled the room.

Seeing the miserable sight before her, Ria's immense rage had fled as if injured.

"Oh my God." she whispered. She looked around with wide, trapped eyes. "Oh my God, James!"

She went over and bent down. She reached out a hand. "Sweetie, I'm so—"

James shot up. "Get the hell from me!"

He raced past, almost knocking her down. He crashed into the bedroom door, smacking it open. He tripped and fell over.

"James stop!" she cried, and got up to her feet. She glanced at Albus, who had dropped the wand. He looked lost, confused, not at all knowing where he actually was.

[5]

She lost track of him for ten heart-stopping minutes.

But he was just in the shed in the backyard, in the left corner of the fence. The shed was for the extremely rare occasion that Ria or Harry would have to brew a potion for someone. They usually left that kind of thing over to Draco and Hermione.

James was behind the cauldron in the middle of the shed. He was completely blocked from sight when she opened the door, but she heard his sniffling.

"James?"

"Leave me alone!"

"I'm sorry James."

"You stay away from me!"

Ria thought back to those ten minutes of steadily rising terror, not knowing where he was.

He could have been hit by a car.

He could have been kidnapped by a pervert.

He could have fallen and scratched his nail on something, getting a unique infection that no potion could cure.

He could have gone to a neighbor's house and told them what she had done.

But here he was. Safe and sound.

And away from any prying eyes or listening ears. Here, at least, she could relax a bit.

"James, please."

She walked around the cauldron. James had his back to it. He was rocking back and forth and sucking his thumb. Damn it, he was regressing. He didn't even look at her as she knelt down beside him. He kept staring forward.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"You don't love me."

"Yes, I do." she slowly brought her hands to his face. And she really did. She just

(why? Why do you do these things Astoria)

lost her temper. That was all. It was just something that happened from time to time and she didn't always know the best way to react. She'd lost her temper at Goyle and kicked him into the lake with the squid-thing in it. She'd lost her temper with Pansy and slapped her cross-eyed. She'd lost her temper with her granddad and cursed him before he could curse her. She'd lost her temper with Gareth Gobblecock and wiped his memory. She'd lost her temper with Wu and—

She couldn't be blamed for it, any more than Harry could. Look at the shit life wanted to throw at them: a son who was physically abusive to his brother. Sure, she perhaps overreacted, but she was still the parent. She had to regulate. She had to. Under no circumstances did she want James growing up thinking it was fine and dandy to hurt those who could not defend themselves. Like Goyle. Like Crabbe.

And when such things weren't happening in her household, when certain individuals acted how they were supposed to, then there wasn't a nicer mother in the world.

"I love you a lot, James." Ria said. She touched his face and he flinched away. She firmly took his chin in two fingers and made him look at her. "But I need you to listen to me, okay?"

James wiped his face and looked at her. There was real anger in his gray-green eyes, but mostly hurt, as though to ask: How could you do this to me?

"I know you didn't like it when I used that charm on you." Ria said gently. "I hated it too, James. It sucks when people are hurting you and you can't do anything about it. I never want you to do something like that again. You shouldn't hurt the weak. The weak can't defend themselves like the strong can."

Just then, something strange crossed his face. It was at once completely alien and entirely familiar. Where had she seen it before?

"What about the strong? Is it okay for me to hurt them?"

Another woman—another mother—might have been disturbed by the questions. But Ria was not. She felt genuine relief for the first time today.

"It depends," Ria said honestly. "Some strong people are good. Like your father and Uncle Ron. They use their abilities to help other people. I've told you this before. They hurt bad guys so the bad guys don't hurt innocent people."

"Can I..." James paused, as if he wasn't even sure of what would be said next. "Can I kill them? If they're really bad?"

Again, another person might have been disturbed by the question. Ria was not.

"Maybe. But only if they're really bad."

"Really bad?"

"Yes."

"How will I know?"

Ria bit her lip in careful consideration.

"If they are trying to kill somebody themselves."

"Okay."

"But only when they are doing that. Okay?"

James' face was calm now. "Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Pinky promise." Ria said.

He held him up his pinky. She took it with hers.

"Earth, water, fire, air," James said, "I declare a pinky swear."

She smiled and so did he. But it was the smile of a POW, newly released. There was relief in that smile and genuine misery.

But Ria told herself that was just for today. Then she hugged him.

"One more thing."

"Yes, mom?"

"Don't tell your father, okay?"

And the words went descended the sprawling depths of James Potter's fragile mind, into a deep, dark labyrinth where people never looked.