Chapter 21: Age Catching Up
“James…”
James moaned, not wanting to wake from his doze. He could already tell his mind had surfaced to consciousness, but he squeezed his eyes shut tight.
“James.”
Grunting, James turned his head as though turning away from something.
“For God’s sake, Prongs, pick up the damn mirror!”
His eyes flew open, and he was so startled he choked on his own saliva. Sputtering and coughing, he tried not to jostle Lily much, whom was still propped against his chest sleeping, as he rooted around on the floor to grab hold of the mirror. He paused, however, and brought his fingertips to her neck. He concentrated, and when he felt the weak throb of her pulse, his body relaxed slightly. He pick up the mirror, brought it close to his face to see it in the dark, and whispered, “Padfoot? Sirius?”
“Doze off?”
“Yeah. How long were you in there?”
“Ten minutes,” Sirius answered with amusement.
James grunted in disgust. “Well, did he know? Do you know where we are?”
“Yeah, but Dumbledore didn’t tell us.”
“What do you mean, Dumbledore didn’t tell you?”
Sirius explained how he, Charlie, Remus, and Peter had burst in on the meeting between Dumbledore and Snape.
“So what happens now?” James asked when Sirius had finished.
“Dumbledore went straight to the ministry to cease the search for you two, then gather all the Aurors to ambush Perpetuus Procella. That’s the island on which you’re held captive.”
James tightened the one arm he still had wrapped around Lily. “I hope they come soon.”
“I don’t doubt their ability to form and steak out; it’s the actual attack that has me concerned. I hope they can get you both out safely without getting caught in the crossfire. Lord knows that neither of you would live.”
“I can’t wait to get back,” James said. “I want to get Lily help straight away.”
“We’ll be no less anxious waiting for you.”
“Excusez-moi?” James heard Charlie speak up in French as if she’d been offended. “Whatever do you mean, waiting, however anxiously? You certainly don’t expect me to just sit here, do you?”
James listened to the ensuing bicker match.
“No, I don’t expect you to just sit there. You can pace, you can sing, you can read”“
“Oh, you think you’re so clever! I will not stay here and wait! You can’t make me!”
James heard the grin in Sirius’s tone. “You wanna bet?”
Charlie growled in frustration. “I’m going to that island, and I’m going to get Lily.”
“And how do you expect to do that?”
“I’ll make”“
“Portkeys are illegal except to those with special authorization.”
“Fine! I’ll”“
“You can’t Apparate worth a damn, either.”
“How the hell do you know?”
“I know that you failed your test because you Apparated to Mexico when you were supposed to Apparate to Spain.”
“It was close enough!”
“No.”
“Fine, I’ll swim, then!”
To James, Sirius smiled sweetly. “One moment, please.”
There was a flash of light, followed by a thump. “There,” Sirius breathed.
“Trouble in paradise?”
“You have no idea.”
“No, more like a vague recollection. I’d hurry, before she comes to,” James told his best friend. “Pack your things, move to Borneo, and change your name to Job Whitman.”
“You think she’ll be that bad?”
“My only advice to you, my friend, is this: run.”
Voldemort sat on his make-belief throne, wondering what he should do to his two prisoners. Should there be sharp objects, or harsh spells? Should there be lots of blood, or will he cut off their air? The latter was much too clean, however.
Someone pounded urgently on the door to this left. With a sigh, he called for them to enter as he wondered what had gone wrong now.
Lucius Malfoy strutted in, chin held high, sneer on his lips. He came to kneel before his master, ducking his head in respect.
“Rise, Lucius,” Voldemort commanded, straightening in his chair. When his servant complied, he said, “Why are you here? I thought you had a lunch date with our Minister of Magic?”
“I did, my lord. However, while we were eating an urgent message came for the minister by way of the head of the Auror Division.”
“Oh? And you just so happened to accidentally overhear part of their conversation, Lucius?”
“They know where this island is, master. They know this is where the Mudblood and Potter are being held. I don’t know how, sir, but when I left the ministry ten minutes ago, they had already gathered all Aurors and were making their way here. I came to warn you.”
Sirius and James promised to keep each other updated before severing the connection. Moments later, Lily woke with a groan. “Am I dead yet?”
James sighed. “I just talked to Sirius.” He sensed rather than heard Lily come to attention. “This island is called Perpetuus Procella. I think that’s Latin for something. Dumbledore’s rounding up the Aurors to come sneak us out.”
“How will they get past Voldemort and the Death Eaters?”
“I don’t know. Luck,” he sighed.
Lily turned her head to the side, tipped it up. James leaned down and lightly brushed his lips over hers.
They sat there for a while, in the lonesome dark. They could hear nothing; not the storm they knew always raged overhead, not a groan of the shack as it undoubtedly swayed in the storm.
Then suddenly the door to their room burst open. It crashed against the wall, sounding like gunfire. Light spilled in, leaving the teenagers momentarily blind. When their eyes did focus, they saw Voldemort silhouetted in the doorframe.
“How did you do it?” he asked, he voice dangerously quiet and deliberate.
Instinct told James to play dumb as he pushed himself to his feet, dragging Lily with him. Never would he let Voldemort look down on him. “Do what?”
In three angry strides, Voldemort was across the room and standing in front of him, nearly nose-to-nose. James firmly but gently pushed Lily behind him. She leaned against the wall at her back for support.
“Don’t play games with me, Potter, you demoralized riffraff. How does the ministry know where to look?”
Again James played his features to look innocent as he knit his brows and frowned. On the inside, his stomach, empty as it may be, was sliding around, slick as grease and quivering with nerves. “The ministry? I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
Voldemort narrowed his eyes until it looked as if he’d simply shut them. He seemed as if to be concentrating hard. Then James felt it; a tingling sensation in his head. Again, instinct told him to clear his mind, to shut it off.
Voldemort’s lips pulled back to bear his teeth in a snarl. A guttural growl of rage echoed deep within his throat, and before James knew better, he’d been thrown across room, pain erupting everywhere within him.
It was awful. He’d often read stories of the Cruciatus Curse before, knew how it worked, but he’d neither cast nor received the spell in his life. Needles pricked his skin everywhere all at once; knives were stabbing him, over and over; punches were being thrown from every direction and he could not block the blows. He could only scream as he’d never screamed before, wishing, hoping, praying for oblivion.
Lily had fallen, unable to support herself, even against the wall. Her heart was pounding faster, harder than it had in days. She tried to cry out, but the screams were locked in her dry, aching throat.
Again and again the curse was cast. At last James could only lie on the chipped wooden floor, thinking: Is this what she went through for days, before I got to her? Oh, God.
“I’m going to ask one last time, Potter. How did you contact the ministry?”
Through glasses that were miraculously unharmed, James squinted up at Voldemort. “I didn’t.”
The Dark Lord studied him a moment, before turned on Lily. He’d found implication in James’s statement that never even existed, let alone had been meant.
Looking at Lily now, Voldemort slowly came to stand just before where she lay on the floor, breathing hard in a mixture of exertion and fear. “How did you contact the ministry?” he inquired again, in his quiet, deliberate tone.
Lily glanced across the room to where James was struggling to gain his feet. His attempts were futile, however, and he could barely prop himself up on his elbows. Their eyes met, a clash of emerald and hazel. Then she tore hers away, and didn’t see his widen in panic and fright, for he’d read her silent message, and knew what she was about to do.
He may not realize it, but he’d done so much for her that she could never pay him back in whole. Doing this was as close as she could come. She may not save his life, but at least she’d have the peace of mind to know that she had spared him some moments.
She brought her eyes up to meet Voldemort’s. “How did I contact the ministry?” She managed to chuckle. “Well, well, wouldn’t you like to know?”
For one second, Lily was almost regretful that his angry snarl was going to be the last thing she ever saw.
Charlie slowly opened her eyes and blinked. She recognized Sirius’s bed, on which she happened to be lying.
She couldn’t remember falling asleep, or even being tired, but…oh. Oh no. He didn’t. He didn’t.
“Look who’s waking up,” cooed someone from nearby. Recognizing the voice, Charlie growled deep in her throat”and quickly found herself bound by ropes.
“Mustn’t take any chances,” Sirius sang, tapping his wand against his palm like a schoolteacher. “I happen to want to live longer.”
Her anger didn’t go away, but she calmed enough on the outside to raise an eyebrow at him, her mouth forming a sly smile. “Kinky.”
She spotted Remus across the room, pacing and running his hands through his hair. All seriousness settled in, as well as worry for her friends. “How long was I out? Has anything happened?”
“It’s only been thirty minutes since we last had contact with James and Lily,” Sirius told her, coming to sit on the edge of the bed near her stomach. “However, Professor McGonagall was just here, having been instructed by Dumbledore to keep us informed of the proceedings. She said that the Aurors had been assembled within minutes, and they moved out a while ago. They should have reached the island by now, probably have located the shack.”
Charlie blew out a sigh. “I wish I could just go to sleep and not wake up until everything is all right again.”
Sirius reached out and laid a hand on her cheek. “Everything will be back to normal soon enough. I just want Lily and James back.”
“Crucio!”
For the third time Lily cringed as her body was wracked with pain. That was all she could do.
“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! You stupid, worthless wretch! You filthy, ungrateful Mudblood! How dare you! How dare you deceive me!”
After fighting a winning battle against his protesting bones, James had made it to his knees. His heart was squeezing painfully, fearing for his love. The love he couldn’t reach to save.
Finally Voldemort stopped the curses, and stared down at Lily, his breathing labored, fury in his eyes. He abruptly stooped down on his haunches, shoving his face into hers. “You’re going to die slowly, painfully. They’ll find you dead and your boyfriend weeping over your cold body and know that they were too late. They’ll know what will happen if they cross Voldemort, and lose.”
He conjured a long, sharp dagger. He looked it up and down, smiling sickly. He tested the point by touching his finger to it. Then in the blink of an eye he’d buried it to the hilt in her side.
It was done so quickly Lily didn’t even gasp. She did, however, feel skin break, tissues tear, and organs puncture. She felt the warm liquid that was her blood pour out of her body. The faster it flowed, the colder she got.
Voldemort leaned close again, just so she could hear. “You had great power, Lily. You would have done well fighting for the right side, but you would have been greater fighting for mine. Pity to have to let you go.”
With that he stood, gazed at her for another moment, then turned and walked out the door. He didn’t look back once.
James crawled as fast as he could to her side, which in reality was about as quick as a tortoise. She lay on her back, the horrid dagger sticking out of her right side, and the wall on her left. He knelt in the dark pool that was growing beside her. Moaning in agony, he muttered, “No, no, no. Why’d you do that? Why? No, no, no.”
That’s how Dumbledore discovered them.
The next hour was pandemonium. They tried to drag James away from Lily, but he refused to go, so they stunned him. Lily had fallen unconscious from blood loss. The Aurors had taken down the wards protecting the shack on their way in, so they gathered up the two teenagers and Apparated them straight to St. Mungo’s Hospital.
Most of the Aurors left as soon as they were delivered, but a handful stayed behind to secure the wards in which James and Lily were being care for. Healers rushed around, grabbed this, calling for that, always taking the vital signs of both and trying to staunch Lily’s wound’s blood flow.
Lily died. For about thirty seconds. Her heart stopped because it was too weak to keep on pumping. But soon enough the healers got it working with stark will power”and not a little magic, too.
They removed the dagger, inspected and passed it finding no poison or quirks whatsoever. They healed the organs, repaired the tissue, and closed the wound. They forced potions down her throat”one to replenish blood, one to nourish, one to heal bruises, and one to do the finishing touches on fixing her innards.
When she was stable and everything done that could be at the moment, the nurse assigned to Lily cast a cleaning spell and transfigured her ragged school robes into a clean dressing gown. Then she was left to sleep, her hair washed and shiny, her skin soft and smooth, and her expression peaceful for the first time in days.
James was given many of the same potions Lily was, with the exception of the one that polished innards. He never died, but he did fall into a deep, deep sleep after the healers assured him that Lily was going to live.
Within hours reporters filled St. Mungo’s welcome area. The Welcome Witch practically had to beat them back with a stick, repeating, “No, we have no patients here by that name. No, we do not know their condition being that they’re not here. No! No comment, no comment! Stay back! Stay back I tell you! I am authorized to do whatever necessary to protect our patients!”
Back at Hogwarts, McGonagall had informed Sirius, Charlie, Remus, and Peter that Lily and James had been found and were in stable condition at St. Mungo’s. Presently, they were all yelling at Dumbledore in unison, demanding to be allowed to see their friends.
Finally, Dumbledore stood abruptly and raised his voice for one of the rare times in his life. “You will not go and see them tonight! They need to rest, and so do you four. We all do. You will go and see them in the morning, no sooner.”
The lines in his face seemed deeper, longer than ever before. The muscles in his face were tense, and his benevolent blue eyes held not their usual twinkle. He felt old today. Maybe his hair was mostly white, maybe gravity hadn’t been so kind to his skin, but he’d never felt older than he did today.