Chapter 21: The Aftermath
There was a sudden deathly silence. James got to his knees and bent over double, clutching his stomach. He felt like he would be sick at any moment. Still no one made a sound. He coughed up some bile and blood and gulped for more fresh air.
“Sirius?” he queried quietly into the darkness. “Remus? Peter?” There was no answer. They were all still.
James dropped his hands to the ground and coughed again. His throat was raw, and his nose was dripping with blood. He kept gasping for breath, but it only made him cough up more blood. He collapsed into a heap on the cold, hard ground and shook violently.
Some minutes later, James felt a cold hand grip his shoulder, and he jumped in shock, reaching for his wand and gripping tightly
“I see I am no longer needed in battle,” came the voice of Albus Dumbledore. James turned his head to look up into the old man’s gleaming eyes.
“Sir,” he managed to say
“Where are they?” Dumbledore asked.
“Over there.” He pointed to where most of the silent bodies lay. “But Sir, I think they’re dead. Sirius I mean, and maybe Remus-"
“Stay still James,” Dumbledore cut in, before swooping in on the bodies. He crouched low. “Hmm, a very thorough job done on this one. Whose spell?”
“Mine,” James croaked. He sat back on his heels and massaged his neck
“Impressive.” He pointed his wand at the Death Eater and the unconscious man rose into the air under Dumbledore’s wand, who then flicked it once, and ropes appeared, binding the Death Eater tightly around the wrists and ankles
“That should do. Now, we must get these students to Madame Pomfrey.”
“Sir,” James said, suddenly remembering, “There was another one. I don’t know what happened to him, though. He may be around still.”
Dumbledore lit his wand silently and pointed it around the perimeter of the courtyard. “Well, he’s gone now. Apparated, most likely."
“Doesn’t that mean he’ll be back with more of them?”
“A very likely theory, James, which is why we must hurry. I have already alerted the Ministry Aurors, and they should “ Ah. Here they are.”
Several figures had appeared a few feet form them, and they rushed over to Dumbledore.
“Who is it?” a large man with a deep voice asked.
“Marcus Axel.”
“What happened to him?” This came from a smaller figure with a high female voice.
“Mr Potter’s work, I believe,” Dumbledore answered. “But I shall have to leave you here to sort this out for the time being. My students require my assistance.”
The man nodded his assent. “Thanks for the tip-off, Albus,”
“Not a problem.” He swooped his wand over the remaining bodies and they all rose into the air and glided towards him. By the light of Dumbledore’s wand the floating bodies looked eerily lifeless.
“Sir, they’re not…” James couldn’t finish the sentence.
“No James, they are all merely unconscious. Cursed, by the looks of Mr. Pettigrew. Let’s get them to the castle. Can you stand?”
“Yes, sir.” James rose and moved to Dumbledore’s side. “Sir? What will happen to the Death Eater?”
“I will answer your questions, and indeed have some of my own, back at the castle. But for now, we must hurry.” He waved his wand again and more ropes appeared, but this time they were used to attach Sirius, Remus and Peter to one another by the wrists. James looked on in confusion as Dumbledore cupped his hands together and called out into the night in some sort of bird song. He knew better than to ask why.
In a matter of moments, the call was replied, and Fawkes the Phoenix swooped down upon them.
Dumbledore turned to James. “Here, take Mr Black’s arm.” James did as he was told. Dumbledore then put his left hand on Peter’s shoulder, and with his right he gripped the tail feathers of Fawkes. “Flying with Phoenix’s is my favourite way of travelling,” Dumbledore said, and that was all the warning James got before Fawkes spread his wings and leapt into the air. James was tugged violently upwards behind Dumbledore and the string of unconscious Marauders, and he had to struggle to keep his hand firmly on Sirius’s wrist.
He couldn’t understand why Dumbledore liked this so much, it was much worse than flying on a broomstick. The lack of any support for his body and the fact that he was at the end of the line of bodies meant that he flailed around wildly in the night sky. The cold air was forced into lungs that had so recently been deprived of any oxygen, and it made him cough violently.
Even so, sooner than he had expected, the Hogwarts castle came into view and Fawkes swooped down onto the parapet of the North Tower, landing softly and gracefully. Dumbledore followed suit and with his wand directed Sirius, Remus and Peter’s unconscious forms to gently halt in the air. James wasn’t so lucky, tumbling over and scraping his knee. Yet another injury to add to tonight’s casualties, he thought bitterly.
Dumbledore began to ferry James’s friends down the long winding staircase that led to the Seventh Floor of the castle. James wondered at how he managed to keep them from banging their heads against walls of the narrow stair, as he trudged along behind them. At the bottom, he heard Sirius moan as he stirred from his unconscious state.
“Wassat?” he asked groggily, before realising that he was drifting along several feet from the ground. “Argh, what’s going on?”
Dumbledore spoke calmly to him. “You have been attacked, Mr Black, and I am taking you and your friends to the Hospital Wing, where no doubt Madame Pomfrey will return you to your normal self in no time.”
“Oh,” Sirius said in recognition. Then his head drooped back in apparent satisfaction that he was being well looked after, and he fell back into a deep sleep.
They reached the Hospital Wing, where a nervous-looking Madame Pomfrey stood awaiting them. James didn’t know how she had been alerted to the situation.
“How bad are they?”’ she asked, looking doubtfully at the suspended bodies.
“Mr Black and Mr Pettigrew seem to be the victims of curses, and Mr Lupin has been badly knocked out. Mr Potter, I am sure, can speak for himself.”
“I’m ok,” James said, as Dumbledore untied the ropes binding the boys and directed them to separate beds. “Just make sure they’re alright.”
James walked further into the light and Madame Pomfrey gasped. “What happened to your neck?”
James raised his hands to his throat. “My neck?” It still hurt incredibly badly, but he hadn’t realised there were visible effects.
“Poppy, if you would see to these three, I will talk to James in your office.”
“Of course,” she said absently, bustling around Peter, checking to see what curse had hit him.
Dumbledore led James through the Hospital Wing in the direction of Madame Pomfrey’s office. They passed a sleeping girl about half way down who looked remarkably like-
“Lily?” James asked in shock. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s fine, but after she came charging into my office I sent her straight to Madame Pomfrey to be treated for shock. Apart from an ankle injury, she seemed to be in perfect physical health.”
James passed by her bed reluctantly. He wanted to see for himself that she was ok, but Dumbledore had moved on swiftly. He would have to take his word for it.
They reached the office and entered. James had never been inside before. It was a cosy room. Apart from the desk there was a pair of squishy armchairs by a crackling fire, and a furry rug that took up most for the floor space. The walls were covered with shelves full of various different remedies: bottles, powders, creams, and liquids. The rest of the space was littered with boxes that James could only suspect contained more medicines.
Dumbledore seated himself in one of the armchairs and signalled to James to take the other one. He crossed the room and sank into the comfortable seat. He took a deep breath that caused him to start another coughing fit.
“Sorry, sir,” he said once he was finished.
“Not at all, James. I would offer you some water but it will only make you cough again. Once we are finished here you will go straight to Madame Pomfrey and get that seen to. However it is important that first you tell me of tonight’s events.” He folded his hands into his lap and looked James deep in the eyes, giving him his full concentration.
James didn’t know where to start. He somehow left out the part where he and the others had snuck into Hogsmeade at night for Sirius’s birthday, and instead began with the point he realised the others were in trouble.
"I was catching up with the others, you see,” he continued, “so I wasn’t there when the Death Eaters appeared. But I heard what they were saying, because I was hiding round the corner. At first I thought they were harmless, people we knew even, because none of the others seemed to be afraid or moving away. But then the next thing I knew Remus was hanging upside down in the air. I should have helped him, but I was scared.” He paused and lowered his head in shame. “I didn’t do anything until the Death Eater raised his wand again. I didn’t really think, I just ran into the courtyard and threw myself at them. It wasn’t a very clever thing to do."
“You most likely saved your friends’ lives, James. Please continue.”
James proceeded to relive all he could remember of the battle. A lot of it was hazy, and he would need the others to fill in the gaps. When he spoke of how he was almost strangled to death, Dumbledore looked like he would react, but then sat back further into his chair and continued listening.
By the time James’s story was over, his throat hurt even more and it was so dry that he couldn’t swallow. But he wasn’t ready to go yet.
“Sir?” he asked, once he had paused at the point when Dumbledore had arrived on the scene. “Can I ask you something?"
“You may,” Dumbledore said, inclining his head slightly.
"What do you think they were doing in Hogsmeade? The Death Eaters kept talking about a task that they had to do..."
"There are many answers to that question, James, none of which I can honestly verify. But rest assured there will be people looking into it immediately. But one thing we do know, whatever it was that Lord Voldemort was planning, it wasn't achieved tonight. I thank you for that." He inclined his head again.
"And sir, can I ask you something else?"
"You may ask me one more question, James, and then I must leave to make some inquiries of my own."
“That Death Eater, he said he thought we were from an Order. But the other man said he had made sure that no members of that Order could hinder them. What were they talking about?”
James saw a conflict in Dumbledore’s eyes. Here was something that James wasn’t supposed to know, and he hadn’t realised this until he saw how reluctant Dumbledore was to answer his question. The old man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and continued to look at James intently. Several moments passed in silence, but James felt that he wasn’t the one who should break it.
Finally, Dumbledore spoke. “You have proved to me, James, that you are far more headstrong than I had believed. You have succeeded tonight in capturing a high suspect Death Eater, who right at this moment will probably be locked up in a prison cell in Azkaban. You almost got yourself killed in the process, but nevertheless I remain sincerely impressed. You have defied Lord Voldemort's plans. I have, however, so far avoided asking you what you and your friends were doing in Hogsmeade in the first place, and I ask that you do me that same favour in refraining from asking me about the Order of the Phoenix.”
James’s eyes widened, and he understood what Dumbledore had just done. By refusing to answer James’s question, he had kept his secret intact, but he also had given James an important piece of information by naming the Order. It was not a name most people were privy to, and it was a mark of Dumbledore’s respect for him.
“One day,” Dumbledore continued once he was sure that James understood the compliment, “you may ask me that question again. And I shall answer it for you. But for now, I am sure you are desperate for some relief for those injuries you have sustained, and a good night’s sleep wouldn’t go amiss either.” He smiled warmly at James, who nodded, rose from his seat and walked over to the door. He paused at the threshold.
“Sir?”
“Yes, James?”
“The others, they’ll be alright, won’t they?”
“I have every confidence in Madame Pomfrey,” Dumbledore replied, also rising from his seat. “They will be back to normal in no time. As I am sure will you.”
James smiled and exited the office with Dumbledore. They walked back to the other side of the Hospital Wing, past Lily’s bed, and up to Madame Pomfrey, who was still busy administrating remedies for the Marauders injuries.
“Have they woken at all?” Dumbledore asked.
“Mr Black has been in and out of consciousness a few times,” she answered absently as she applied a thick orange gloopy paste to Remus’ chest, which was littered with enormous calluses. “Lie down over there and I will see you in a minute,” she directed James, who obeyed, thankful for the chance to collapse on a soft bed. She finished administering the paste and turned to Dumbledore. They began talking intently, but James’s head was swimming and his throat was so sore that he couldn’t make sense of their words. He closed his eyes wearily and was soon in as deep a sleep as the others.
Love Conquers by dumbly_dorr
Chapter Notes: Picks up straight from the end of the last chapter, after the fight with the Death Eaters. Hope you enjoy it, please keep the reviews coming I'd love to know what you think!