Chapter Three: First Impressions
James supposed he should be thankful that they were meeting in a Ministry conference room. It had taken some persuading on his part, and he’d had to pull quite a few strings, but it would pay off. The last thing he wanted was for his first meeting with Lily Evans to be in the interrogation rooms in Azkaban, with chains rustling on all the chairs and Dementors floating outside the door.
He settled himself into the seat on one side of the table and looked around the room. It was small, with only room for a table and a few chairs. The door had a heavy lock on it, and James could not help but shiver slightly at that. Did they plan on locking him in the room with an accused murderer?
Well, he could hardly blame them. They were, after wall, bringing her into the Ministry. Nobody wanted to take the chance that she would break free and kill them all. Particularly given how serious of a case this was.
He looked down at his quill and roll of parchment. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he had allowed Marlene to talk him into this. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d never really been able to say no to her. Growing up as an only child, he had often longed for siblings to conspire with or against. Marlene had eventually filled that role, and though he often teased her mercilessly, he caved every time she pressed him to do something.
And, of course, there was the fact that she was right about this. If he could get Evans acquitted of the charges, who knew what other opportunities would open for him? And then there was the added bonus of beating Lestrange, the very thought of which made James smile.
His musings were interrupted by the door creaking open, and then two Aurors appeared, escorting the prisoner between them. Usually Dementors brought the prisoners to the Ministry, of course, but James had requested not to have them this time. He truly despised Dementors, and also wanted to ensure that his client had enough time away from the foul beasts that she would be coherent when he spoke to her.
It was an unusual requests and quite a few eyebrows had been raised over it, but the Potter family was powerful enough that his requests were not ignored.
James rose to his feet and studied Evans carefully. She met his gaze without flinching, her chin raised every so slightly, defiance evident in her body language. Her eyes, he noted, were a brilliant shade of green, and her fiery red hair was a mess of tangles that had clearly not been brushed in the past few days. Her clothes were torn and dirty, and her nails were chipped, but there was still something absolutely stunning about her.
Too bad she was most likely guilty of murder.
“Thank you,” James said to the two Aurors. “If you would stand outside the door, please, I would like a word in private with my client.”
“Client?” Evans demanded. “What are you talking about?”
One of the Aurors laughed softly and shook his head, as though the entire situation amused him. The other pushed Evans forward none to gently and said roughly, “Take a seat.” Then they both withdrew, giving James an appraising look before shutting the door firmly behind them.
The lock snapped into place.
Evans turned and looked at the heavy oak door for a moment, her expression shrewd and calculating.
“I assure you, Miss Evans, you cannot break through that door,” James said, casually withdrawing his wand from his robes to make a point. He was armed, and she was not. And there were two Aurors in the hallway. Surely she wouldn’t be stupid enough to attempt an escape?
She regarded him coldly. “I assure you, sir, that I was not planning on attempting it.”
He frowned, then gestured to the seat opposite him. “My name is James Potter, Miss Evans, and I will be your counsel. Please, have a seat.”
“I did not ask for counsel,” Evans said quietly, still standing, still staring hard at James. “And I do not have the money to pay you.”
“I am not interested in your money,” James said airily. “Now, sit. We have a lot to discuss.”
But Evans shook her head stubbornly, refusing to move from her spot by the door. “I did not ask for your counsel,” she said again, her words hard and sharp. “I do not know why you have taken an interest in this case, but I assure you, I do not want…”
“Miss Evans,” James interrupted, “do you understand that you will be standing trial for murder?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Do you understand that Rodolphus Lestrange has taken this case and will most likely do everything in his power to convict you? That you will be sent to Azkaban for life? Or worse?”
There was a slight pause, then Evans said, “Yes.”
“Then why exactly do you not want me as your counsel?” James asked.
She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. He followed suit, staring hard at her, wishing he could read her mind. She had been defensive since the moment she walked into the room, and yet all he was trying to do was help.
She folded her hands on the top of the table and looked away for a moment. When she spoke, her words were slow and deliberate, and even though she still was not looking at him, he could tell that she was glaring.
“You have not explained why you wish to be my counsel. Given that we have both acknowledged I cannot pay you for your services, I find your interest in this… suspicious.”
James leaned back in his seat. He was not about to admit to her that this was a political move, that he was doing his best to beat Lestrange. He was on edge around her, and not just because she had been accused of murder. Twice. There was something else about her, something he couldn’t quite place, but it left him uneasy.
He lifted his quill and held it over the parchment, ready take notes should the conversation turn towards a more productive topic. For the moment, though, he said simply, “Why?”
She looked at him briefly, then dropped her eyes. “Why not? Most people don’t waste time like this.”
“It is not a waste of time,” James answered. “Now, obviously, the most important thing is to determine what parts of Lestrange’s case we can discredit. I am going to ask you a series of questions, mostly to gather the necessary background information for this. From there, we will discuss our options.”
“Questions?” Evans said, her brow furrowed.
“Yes,” James answered. “How long have you known Remus Lupin?”
He watched her closely as he asked the question, and felt a bit of satisfaction at the way her eyes filled with tears. It was convincing, and it might be enough to sway the Wizengamot into believing that she cared about Lupin too much to ever want to hurt him.
She blinked a few times, and quickly composed herself. That would not do, and James scribbled down a note about this. She would need to stay upset for the duration of the trial, particularly if they chose to put her on the witness stand. Composure was too often equated with lack of emotion, and he wanted people to believe that she was grieving this loss.
She drew a shaky breath and said, “We met when we were eleven, so it has been several years.”
“Eleven?” James said curiously. “First year at Hogwarts?” He studied her again, trying to remember if he’d seen her at all. Hogwarts was a big school, of course, and he didn’t know all the students there. But she had to be close to his age, so they couldn’t have been more than a few years apart.
Evans frowned at him. “Yes,” she said, a bit coldly. “We were both sorted into Gryffindor.”
James hesitated, then admitted, “That was the house I was in.”
Evans rolled her eyes. “I know,” she said, a snap to her voice. “You were a few years ahead of us.” She folded her arms over her chest. “But I guess Remus and I didn’t fit into your social crowd, did we? I seem to remember you only ever paid attention to the Quidditch players.”
James felt entirely flabbergasted, and had no idea how to respond. It wasn’t as though she could actually expect that he would no every single person in his house, particularly those that were a few years below him? There were two hundred people in each House, and they lost and gained thirty students each year!
He set his quill down and gave Evans a long look. She stared back unblinkingly, a challenge in her eyes.
He sighed. “And you became friends with Lupin?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Why does any of this matter?”
“I need to convince the Wizengamot that you liked Lupin, that you would not wish him harm,” James explained. “The fact that you have been friends with Lupin for so long certainly works in our favor, but no doubt Lestrange will have some way of getting around that. Did you ever argue with Lupin? Particularly in the last few years? And in public? Anything that could be used against you?”
“What does it matter?” she shot back.
“Because you were found standing over Lupin’s dead body, his blood on your clothes, on your hands,” James snapped in exasperation. “Lestrange already has a strong case against you, and the only way we are going to discredit him is if we know what he is going to use against you ahead of time. That way we can come up with a different story for the Wizengamot.”
“Why don’t we just tell the Wizengamot the truth?” Evans suggested.
“And what is the truth, Miss Evans?” James asked wearily. She was making this harder by the second, and he really did not wish to draw out the interview for much longer. But so far, she had not given him enough to work with, and he needed more information.
“I didn’t kill Remus!”
James ran a hand through his hair and looked away. He knew Evans was still staring at him, her green eyes flashing, her face flushed. She had risen to her feet and was leaning over the table, and some part of James was ridiculously glad that he had a wand.
Not that he would ever admit that he was afraid of a girl.
He heard her sit down again, and when he looked back at her, she was shaking her head with something akin to disgust in her expression.
“This is why I don’t want you as my counsel,” she spat.
“What do you mean?” he asked warily.
“You think I am guilty,” she said. “You think I killed Remus. I loved him, and he’s dead now. But that doesn’t matter to you, does it? You don’t care about what really happened to Remus. You’re convinced that I am guilty, and all that matters to you is that you get a chance to prove what a good lawyer you are by getting me acquitted. But he’s still dead, Mr. Potter, and I want someone who cares about that.”
James fought the urge to walk out of the room. Her tone was literally dripping with loathing, and the look in her eyes was one of complete dislike.
He expelled a short breath and said, “What you want, Miss Evans, is entirely irrelevant at this point. Because I am what you have. Now, you can walk out of the this room and condemn yourself to a lifetime in Azkaban, or you can let me do my job and hopefully get you freed.”
“I could find someone else…” she started, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.
“Someone who would do this for free? Someone who would willingly go up against Rodolphus Lestrange, one of the most influential men in our society? How exactly do you plan on finding this person?”
She said nothing, perhaps recognizing the truth in his words. He gave her a grim smile of satisfaction and picked up his quill again. “Now, shall we continue?”
“So, what’s this McKinnon says about you being daft enough to go against Lestrange on a murder trial?”
James jumped at the sound of a voice whispering in his ear and spun around to find himself staring into the laughing eyes of his best friend. “Merlin, Sirius, did you have to do that?”
“Do what? Oh, you mean sneak up on you? How could I pass up the opportunity to watch you jump out of your skin?” Sirius Black answered with a broad grin.
James rolled his eyes. He’d been reading the Daily Prophet and lounging on the sofa in his flat, but Sirius’ surprise had caused him to crumple the newspaper. He tossed it onto the coffee table, the wrinkled photograph of Lily Evans being escorted to Azkaban staring up at them.
“Yeah, well, knock it off, mate,” he said.
Sirius quirked an eyebrow. “Someone’s in a foul mood.”
“You would be too if you’d just spent the last few hours with that… that…” He threw his hands up in the air and leaned back against the sofa. “I can’t even think of the right words for her. She’s insufferable.”
“So it’s true? You really are going to represent her?” Sirius demanded, looking aghast. “James, have you lost your mind?”
“Uh… no?” James answered tentatively. Sirius continued to gape at him, and James frowned thoughtfully and asked, “Didn’t Lena tell you her plan?”
“The one where you win the trial and become the youngest Head of a Ministry Department in I don’t know how long?” Sirius retorted. “Yeah, and what about if you don’t win?”
“Your faith in me is touching,” James drawled.
“I’m serious!”
At that, James could not stop the smile that split his face in two, and he said mockingly, throwing back Sirius’ often-used line, ”I know you’re Sirius, mate, you don’t need to tell me that.”
Sirius chuckled slightly, then sat down next to James and picked up the newspaper. Smoothing out the wrinkled picture, he studied it for a long minute, then said, “Well, she is a looker, James, even if she’s guilty of murder.”
James rubbed his eyes. “Yeah,” he muttered, not really agreeing, but too exhausted to argue. The day had been draining, and though he was always happy to see Sirius, he couldn’t deny the anxiety that built in his chest at the question his best mate had asked.
What would happen if he lost?
He’d taken risks before, but they were always calculated risks, ones where the chance of gain far outweighed the possibility of loss. This felt more like jumping off the edge of a cliff and hoping that he wouldn’t break too many bones when he landed.
He had gone into the meeting knowing that he could always withdraw his aid if he decided it was too risky. But something about Evans had gotten under his skin, and even if he couldn’t stand her, he couldn’t stop thinking about her, either.
Sirius was regarding him with a knowing smirk. “So it’s like that, huh?”
“Like what?” James demanded.
But Sirius just patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget, mate, she probably killed this Lupin fellow in cold blood. It doesn’t matter how pretty she is, she’s still dangerous. Probably even more dangerous because…”
“Sirius, what are you talking about?” James interrupted.
Sirius laughed. “Come on, mate. Isn’t it obvious? You can’t get her off your mind, can you?” James sheepishly shook his head, and Sirius said, “It’s probably just her looks. You’ve got to get past that. It’s always the pretty ones that ensnare you.”
It took James a minute to figure out what Sirius was saying, and then he opened his mouth in horror. “What? Sirius, I don’t… I don’t fancy her. I just…”
“Can’t stop thinking about her?” Sirius offered helpfully.
James threw him a brief glare, but couldn’t deny the truth in those words. Still, he wasn’t about to let Sirius win this argument. Evans might be beautiful and clearly intelligent, and yes, she was brave enough not to be intimidated even with Aurors watching her every move, but she was stubborn and annoying and frustrating and most likely guilty of murder.
He didn’t fancy Lily Evans.
There was just something about her that he couldn’t explain, something that had gotten under his skin.
When James stepped out of the emerald flames into his office, he was surprised to find Marlene hovering anxiously by the fireplace, waiting for him. He dusted himself off casually and gave her a questioning look, and she offered a faint smile.
“We have company,” she said, nodding her head towards the door, her eyes dark with worry and a little bit of fear.
James turned and only just managed to keep his composure. Leaning against the wall with a arrogant smirk on his features, arms crossed over his chest, was Rodolphus Lestrange. No wonder Marlene had been on edge, Lestrange could make anyone jumpy.
“Good morning,” James said, inclining his head in greeting. His words had a thin verneer of politeness on them, but he had no doubt that Lestrange could hear the bitter dislike underneath.
“Don’t get in over your head, Potter. It’s incredibly foolish, even for a Gryffindor,” Lestrange snapped, apparently deciding to forgo any attempt at civility.
James forced himself to remain calm as he said, “I am not in over my head, Lestrange, but I appreciate your… concern… for my wellbeing.” He unfastened his cloak and handed it to Marlene, who took it quickly and hung it up on the hook by the far wall.
Lestrange said venomously, “Don’t mock me, Potter. You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into. If you abandon this idiotic attempt at proving your worth, I will be willing to overlook this mistake.”
“It isn’t idiotic,” James said pointedly. “She has the right to counsel, Lestrange, as I am sure you know. The Wizengamot determined that in 1923.”
“The right to counsel can be waived in times of war or in cases of treason,” Lestrange spat.
“We are not at war,” James argued, “and Miss Evans has not been accused of treason. The Wizengamot will uphold the earlier ruling, even if you do try to threaten them into changing their minds.”
“Are you accusing me of tampering with the Wizengamot?” Lestrange asked in a dangerously quiet voice. He took a few steps towards James, his jaw clenched tightly. “Don’t be a fool, boy. You may have money and some power, but you still have a lot to learn about how this game is played.”
“Some power?” James repeated. “I think I have considerably more than some.” He was a Potter after all, and his family “ had they cared at all about the so-called purity of blood “ would have ranked above even the Malfoys and Blacks in terms of their importance. As blood traitors, however, they had lost some prestige.
But not much.
Lestrange seemed to decide that they were getting off topic, and he said, “Let it go, Potter. We both know she’s guilty.”
“She still has a right to counsel,” James argued, repeating his earlier comment. “Guilty or not, that does not change.”
“And is it worth it?” Lestrange sneered. “When I win this case “ and believe me, Potter, I will “ will it still be worth it to you? When I’ve discredited you, proven you to be nothing more than an amateur and a fool, will it be worth it then?”
“Is that a threat?” James demanded hotly.
Lestrange shrugged carelessly and answered with smug confidence, “It is a friendly warning, Potter. I would hate to see a pureblood like yourself be so harmed by his naïve decisions.”
“You don’t frighten me,” James answered stoically.
Lestrange shook his head. “Then you are even more daft than I believed.” He paused, regarding James with a shrewd look, then said, “She’s Mudblood filth, Potter, and she committed murder. Drop this case before it becomes too much for you.”
“No,” James said flatly.
Lestrange came closer, pausing only a step away from James. He lowered his voice, but it was still filled with the same fury and disgust, and there was something almost inhuman in his eyes. “I will crush her, Potter. And if you stand in my way, I will destroy you, too.”
“Why do you care so much? I thought she was just Mudblood filth,” James asked pointedly.
Lestrange slammed his fist into the wall directly to the right of James’ head, and the younger wizard could not help but flinch. Still, he maintained his composure and stared back coolly, refusing to let his weaknesses show through.
“She made a fool of me once, Potter. She won’t do it again,” Lestrange snarled. And then he turned and swept from the office, slamming the door shut behind him.
James let out the breath he had been holding.
After a moment of silence in which Marlene needlessly arranged and rearranged several rolls of parchment on the desk, James felt the need to say something to ease the tension. He struggled valiantly for a joke, but could come up with nothing even remotely funny in the wake of the threats that he had just heard.
Finally, he settled for saying with a half-smile, “It seems like Lestrange doesn’t want me to do this.”
Marlene sent him a look that said clearly how much she did not find this funny. James sighed and shook his head.
“Apparently I underestimated how much he loathed Lily Evans,” Marlene said quietly. “Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe you should quit.”
“The Potters aren’t quitters,” James said firmly.
Marlene nodded but countered, “Are they suicidal?”
James didn’t answer, but instead lowered himself wearily into the chair at his desk. He knew that neither of them had expected Lestrange to react this angrily to the situation, although they had expected something. But the look in Lestrange’s eyes at the end, that indescribably merciless sneer…
It sent shivers down James’ spine just thinking about it.
“I thought that the worst that would happen if you didn’t win the case was that Lestrange would mock you for it. But you’re young, and it would hardly be unexpected for you to lose. You could have always explained it away as trying to gain experience or something like that…” Marlene trailed off, a far away look in her eyes. “But he was mad, James. He was angrier than I thought he would be. It just… it’s… odd.”
“How so?” James asked, folding his hands behind his head and scooting back so he could prop his feet up on the desk.
Marlene wrinkled her nose in distaste, she always hated it when he did something as uncivilized as displaying his muddy boots so prominently. But he just gave her a cheeky smile, and she rolled her eyes with a long-suffering sigh.
Then she said, “He had to have known that she’d have counsel. I mean… she has a right to it, and even if she can’t afford it, someone would step forward. As you said, we’re not at war and she isn’t accused of treason.”
James considered this. It was true, Lestrange could not expect that he would have no opposition. Even if the entire world believed Lily Evans to be guilty, someone would represent her. It was the way things were done in this country during a time of peace, and there was no reason to assume otherwise.
So was he really that upset that Evans had counsel… or was he upset because that counsel was James?
“I think I need to learn a little bit more about Rodolphus Lestrange’s previous interactions with Lily Evans,” James mused. “I think I need to know a bit more about the death of Lucius Malfoy.”