Half of a Heart's Desire: Entre Deux Guerres

Chapter 4: There's a Place

It was a perfectly ordinary day on Cranberry Lane when a new family moved in to an empty row house down the street. There were thousands of families raising young children in East London, after all. No one remembered seeing a moving truck bring their furniture, but it had been a working day when they first appeared in the neighborhood, and everyone had been busy with school and work, after all. Neither was it particularly strange that the household seemed to consist of three grown men and a baby just over a year old, not to mention the large black dog that was sometimes seen sunning itself in the patio garden. (No one ever seriously believed that a handsome stag had occasionally been spotted in there as well; who would keep such a pet in a London row house?) It was nearly 1982, after all, not the Dark Ages, and the modern urban family came in all sorts of interesting combinations and permutations. Still, it quickly became established in the neighborhood that the young father was the recently widowed James Potter, who had moved into the little house on Cranberry Lane because his old house reminded him too much of his dead wife, and the other two men were his best friends from school, were helping him settle in to their new surroundings.

It took James a little while to grow accustomed to the little brick house; it was smaller than he would have liked, and much too modern for his tastes. He would have preferred a nice Georgian somewhere near the West End, but Remus had pointed out that there was no need to draw attention by appearing to be conspicuously wealthy, and that Harry would be far less noticeable, and happier, in a neighborhood full of children. Since Remus was the resident Muggle expert in Lily's absence, James had bowed to his pronouncement, and even he and Sirius, as well as Harry, were pleased with the little patio garden out back.

The household they ultimately established, however, was not so much a Muggle home as a well concealed hybrid. It was owl-repellent, which made it hard for anyone from the magical world to find them in the usual way. Unfortunately, it also meant that they would find it difficult to get in touch with the wizarding world. They had set up owl post-boxes at the post office in Diagon Alley, but they checked those irregularly and often in disguise. For the Daily Prophet, James had devised an ingenious solution. Since Dumbledore liked his morning paper ironed every morning, James had introduced his house-elf to a Protean Press Copier whose secondary purpose of transmitting a crease-free copy to the ironing board on Cranberry Street was unknown to practically everyone, including the house-elves who used it.

There was no fireplace in the house, Muggle or magical, since floo connections had to be registered with the Ministry, and even unlisted fires could be broken into, but the pier glass in the dining room was a large two way mirror connected directly to Dumbledore's office. James had refused pointblank to be parted from Lily's portrait, which hung in pride of place in Harry's nursery so that she could watch over him. He had also brought over portraits of his ancestors to hang in the other rooms so that Lily would be able to travel around the house, and would have someone to visit with when she was alone. Of course, the older Potters didn't take particularly kindly to being told to freeze in their frames whenever the doors were open, or visitors were allowed into the house. Fortunately, Lily had always gotten along famously with James's family portraits, unlike James himself, whose adolescent antics had never sat well with some of his more stuffy ancestors. She was the one who was ultimately able to persuade them to make a game of playing dead when there were Muggles in the house. James had also magically expanded several parts of the compact house, creating a comfortable study for himself and his friends, and of course a large secured and sound-proofed basement for Remus's transformations that was roomy enough for one or two large animals to keep a werewolf company. Neither did they refrain from day to day use of magic within the house; Remus had been right in saying that James and Sirius were rather inept without their wands, and individual spells, after all, were not easily traceable magic in a metropolis with hundreds if not thousands of wizards.

The largest and cheeriest bedroom in the house was Harry's nursery, which was painted light blue, with a scarlet and gold trim. James and Sirius had insisted on the Gryffindor indoctrination, while Remus had pointed out that a pure red and gold was far too gloomy for a toddler, and in any case, would make the room look too small. There were no Quidditch posters, as James had wanted, since even Sirius could not get the players to stop showing off their stunts and freeze in mid-air, and besides, Lily wasn't too keen on sharing wall space with them, but they had found a cheery wall parchment with a pattern of moving broomsticks and quaffles and bludgers, with an occasional snitch glinting here and there. Remus had come up with a simple charm to freeze the pattern when necessary, and James, who was endlessly fascinated by Muggle technology, had managed to hook up the charm to respond to a switch on the wall for easy wandless access.

For household chores, the three men shifted well enough with the help of a few domestic and cookery spell books, as well as Remus's Muggle volumes on the same subjects. James had wanted to bring along a house-elf or two, especially since the Potter elves were devoted to young Harry, but Dumbledore had drawn the line there. Nevertheless, James had refused to abandon the elves at his parents' old mansion, worried that they would go batty without any humans to take care of, and neither did he want to give the faithful creatures clothes, or abandon them to the Ministry's Relocation Office, where someone might try and trace him through them. Finally, to avoid a standoff on the subject, Dumbledore had agreed to take them in at Hogwarts, although they proudly continued to wear dishcloths with the Potter insignia rather than the Hogwarts crest.

All three men had enthusiastically thrown themselves into the task of setting up the house and settling in. But as he grew confident of their ability to manage to remain inconspicuous in a Muggle neighborhood, Remus started spending more time out of the house. For the time being, the war had ended and the Order was all but disbanded, but he was still taking his research for Dumbledore seriously, knowing that Voldemort would one day return, and more certain than James was that they were responsible for raising a little boy who would one day vanquish Voldemort once and for all. Remus knew that he had an important role in caring for and raising Harry, and perhaps he would be the one to ensure that Harry also would be his mother's son rather than just his father's. But Remus also had another agenda. While he had agreed to live with James, he had no intention of being a freeloader. In the wizarding world, he was a half-breed who would never be able to hold down a job if anyone suspected his true nature. In the Muggle world, no one would imagine that he was anything other than sickly, or suffering from a chronic condition. And with the twin marvels of anti-discriminatory legislation and freelance employment, he hoped, for just the second time in his life, to be able to hold his own with his peers.

Sirius had started spending the evenings at the pub, which was hardly a surprise, given his fondness for boisterous company. He quickly found casual drinking mates with whom he shared Muggle beer and outrageous stories about his motorcycle escapades. Unable to talk Quidditch, he had started to learn the intricacies of football, and to throw himself into the fate of the local team. But James noticed in dismay that around his two best friends, Sirius was growing sullen, and had taken to spending entirely too much time as Padfoot. Exercising a restraint he wouldn't even consider for nearly anyone else, James merely observed this behavior for a few days, not even discussing his concerns with Remus, before deciding that some intervention was necessary. He asked Lily to stay in the room with Harry, whom he left in his playpen with his charmed Prongs, Moony, and Padfoot plush toys dancing a jig, after placing a monitoring charm to alert him in case of any problems.

He made his way out to the garden, where Padfoot was sprawled out on the flagstones, absorbing the weak winter sun, and took a seat next to across from him, carefully facing just slightly away. He conjured an old and much battered snitch and released it, catching it reflexively just as it was about to spring out of reach. He was rewarded with an undignified canine snort, and smirked, setting the snitch loose again. It was only a matter of time now; he wouldn't need to resort to Prongs's rather less tactful methods of persuasion. Sure enough, before James had completed his third catch, Sirius was facing him, his handsome face disfigured by a sullen pout.

"Waiting for Wormtail to crawl out of the bushes and wet himself with excitement? Interesting strategy, but I doubt it'll work."

"No, waiting for Padfoot to tell me off, actually."

"Consider it done."

"Not so hasty, if you please. I didn't go to all that trouble just so you can dismiss me and stay out here moping."

"I am not moping! Besides, I've a perfect right to stay out here moping if I wanted to."

"Not unless we sort this out. You should know I'll beat your secrets out of you if I have to."

"I don't have any secrets, remember?"

"Then why are you the one sitting out here moping? By all rights I rather think that's my job at the moment."

"You can't mope. You've got a son to take care of. Lily'd have your hide if you let yourself sink into self-pity."

"She'll have yours the minute you go inside unless you tell me what's going on. She thinks you've been neglecting your godson. So do I, for that matter. What's going on?"

"You're not going to drop this, are you, Prongs?"

"You should know me better than that by now."

Sirius paused, looking away.

"I was thinking about Regulus, if you must know."

"Regulus?"

"Yes, he was my brother, you know."

"Yes, I do remember. I also remember you saying six years ago that I was the only brother you'd ever need, and six months ago when we heard the news you said good riddance, and Lily cuffed you, and you never spoke of it again. Why were you suddenly thinking about Regulus?"

"I talked to Moody a few days ago. He mentioned something. Did you know that he was killed by Death Eaters? I always thought it was our side that took him down. Thought he was a loyal follower. Turns out he was trying to get out."

"I never properly heard what had happened."

"Never made it anywhere near the inner circle, obviously. The silly git didn't realize what that crowd was capable of before he got in too deep. You would think growing up with Bellatrix around the house he would have known they would stop at nothing. Regulus always was rather squeamish. Mother liked that about him."

"Do you think you should have saved him, then?"

"I'm not his keeper. If that's the crowd he wanted to run with he got what was coming to him. Besides, I couldn't stand him. Right little swot he was, on top of everything else. I'm not looking to replace you for a brother, James."

"What's bothering you, then?"

"Have you heard about the trials over at the Ministry? Malfoy got off two days ago. Says it was Imperius. Voldemort's right hand, getting off on Imperius. Bought off half the jury, of course. Even Crouch couldn't pull off a conviction. Extracted an apology from the Minister, no less. Now they're stepping on tiptoes. Crouch is furious at Crafte & Guyle, but there were no formal links with Voldemort, and of course the solicitors aren't actually allowed at trial. Guyle's too much of a coward to have gone over to the Dark side, anyway. Bella and her husband haven't even been charged, for lack of evidence. Were they supposed to leave calling cards? Have they even talked to her? I'm sure she's still spouting off about her devotion to her master. And Regulus, right little fool that he was, was the only one to manage to get himself killed. The old hag must be proud, if this is what the Noble and Most Ancient House has come to. The last of the Blacks in the direct line. Wonder if she'll try and adopt Narcissa's brat, though I doubt Malfoy would let her."

"Do you want to go see your Mum? Grimmauld Place is just across town."

"Merlin's beard, no! I'd rather marry Kreacher. I'm happy to stay disowned, thank you very much. All the half-decent ones get burnt off the family tree; you know that."

"Sirius, mate, you're my brother, but you are still a Black. And there were some decent ones in the crowd, you know."

Sirius laughed humorlessly.

"Who? Araminta Meliflua? Old Phineas Nigellus, who never missed a chance to tell on me when I got pulled into Dumbledore's office? I never thanked him for getting me burnt off the tree, d'you know? It was all his doing, after the, umm... incident with Snivelly and Moony. Went and reported straight to the Mater out of sheer spite. It's not like he could stand her company either."

James blinked. Although he and his friends discussed every subject unreservedly they almost never mentioned that particular incident unprovoked, Sirius especially. It was one of the few fault lines in the otherwise strong friendship they all shared. James had once raged at Sirius, willing some sense into him to make him understand the magnitude of what he had done. But Remus, after one painful confrontation in which he conveyed to Sirius the extent of his betrayal without losing his composure, which had somehow made it all the worse for Sirius, had treated the subject as closed.

James had rapidly done some growing up of his own in the aftermath of the narrowly averted disaster. Knowing it was not his place to interfere in that delicate rebuilt accord, he had dropped the subject and had let Sirius be, leaving him to learn his own lessons. This was nearly the first time they had talked about it since then. Even Lily had never quite known how James had finally learnt responsibility.

Yet James knew, with all the certainty of a long and intimate association, that Sirius was capable of murder, an act that he himself, even in the heat of battle, would never be able to contemplate. James had never spoken of this realization with anyone. He knew that Remus too probably understood it at some level, yet Remus had to live with the fear of hurting someone inadvertently in a way that James and Sirius would never experience, which undoubtedly colored his perspective. Sirius was different; it was the intensity and the brilliance of the Blacks he so despised raging in his veins that made him capable of great or terrible things. James understood this, and he made it his job to protect and insulate Sirius from his dangerous impulses. It had never made him think any worse of Sirius; with the unquestioning acceptance of real friendship he took Sirius for exactly what he was. It was this impulse that had made him extract from Sirius the promise not to go after Wormtail, even at a time when he himself was in utter shock and mourning, and he did not intend to release his friend from that promise. Without it, there would be little to keep Sirius from taking upon himself the responsibility of judge, jury, and executioner, and while James certainly thought that Sirius was capable of taking Wormtail on, he did not intend to sit back and watch his friend buy himself a one-way ticket to Azkaban to satisfy his sense of vigilante justice.

Of course, James had too much respect for his friend's feelings to put any of his own into words right now. He spoke lightly, looking for Sirius's response.

"She burnt you off the family tree for trying to rid the world of Snape?"

"No, actually, it was for failing to finish the job and getting the werewolf put down. That was what really did it for me, you know? I never really understood, before that, what it meant. We tried to take Snape out every year without fail. She didn't care so much about that, although it was a bit undignified to be bombarded with all those Hogwarts owls. Family of shopkeepers, after all. Hardly worth concerning herself over, even if the mother's bloodline was pure enough, and the boy had had the good sense to get himself sorted into Slytherin, which was more than I was able to manage. I didn't think I could be less like her, yet I was Black enough to use one of my best friends as a murder weapon. I don't know why you and Remus give me the time of day."

"Sirius, mate, that was years ago. Why are you still beating yourself up about it? Remus would never hold it against you. I, well, I think you're a bit of a prat, but then so am I. Why are you brooding on the Blacks now all of a sudden? We're your family, now."

"Don't you see, James? I thought, when I walked out that door, that I was free, that I could just leave all of that behind. I knew your family would take me in, and I had Uncle Alphard and Andie and Ted. I had us. But it never goes away, does it? I'm still a Black. I still carry all of that darkness. I'm still capable of letting down my best friends - I've betrayed Remus, and you, though you'll never say anything. I can't help thinking about Regulus, the poor fool, that it would have been better for him to stick it out for a few months instead of trying to get out of it like that."

"Of course you're thinking about Regulus, mate. It's only natural. He was a bright kid. We all know he wasn't the worst of them; probably didn't deserve what he got. About the other thing, you've got to get your head around the fact that you didn't betray anybody. It was Peter who betrayed us all. So you suspected the wrong person; it happens. He covered his tracks well, and none of us really suspected anything. Have you had this out with Remus?"

"Yes. He said it wasn't my fault. What was he supposed to say? I was practically falling apart in front of him."

"He said what he meant and you know it. Moony wouldn't sugarcoat his words with you. He only does that when he's having someone on. Besides, you're just trying to sidetrack me into blaming you, aren't you? That's what this is about."

"Why not? You should blame me. Lily should blame me."

"I'm not blaming you because you didn't do anything, and because when you don't act like a great big prat I actually like having you around. Vain as you are you should know that so much self-pity isn't particularly attractive. You made a mistake. Get over it. We need your help now."

"That's it? That's all you're going to say?"

"On that subject, yes. That's not the real point here, is it? This isn't about my forgiveness. This is about your promise."

"Damn it, James! If you understand that then why do you have me locked away here in your garden when I should be out there hunting down the traitor?"

"There are Aurors out there to apprehend criminals. It's not your job!"

"When has that ever stopped us before, Prongs? This is my responsibility; you know it is. And you know we can do this better than those Aurors can. They don't know him like we do."

"I doubt that's true anymore, Sirius. We never thought he was capable of this. The Aurors are trained to look for people like him."

"We just fought a war, James. Don't tell me that we aren't capable of this. Don't you want justice for Lily? Don't you think that's the least you ought to receive?"

"Voldemort is gone because of what Lily accomplished. What good would a pound of Wormtail's flesh do me now?"

"This isn't just about you, Prongs. He's a danger out there. The Wizarding World deserves justice, or this war will never leave us, really. People are still scared to say Voldemort's name; what if it's still that way ten years from now? We need to end this war now."

"If you believe Dumbledore, we can't."

"We should be the last people sitting around waiting for the war to catch up with us, then. There are people out there who have fought us once and will happily fight us again."

"As long as people think the war has ended we can't fight like we're in combat mode. Run for the Wizengamot if you must see justice done."

"Run from where? Father's pocket borough of Blackburn-far-under-the-sea? I doubt the family ghosts would approve. And no open seat is open to a Black. I'd lose in a landslide."

"I'd say you'd best work on making yourself popular then, mate. There'll be no vigilante justice on my watch. It's not like hexing Snape at Hogwarts. Someone has to think about the consequences."

"You have changed, mate. The consequences are what would have made it fun, before."

"I haven't changed all that much. Don't you think I want to go after him sometimes? But I have to stop and think, for Harry's sake, and so should you. We can't go getting ourselves dead or landed in Azkaban. You heard what Dumbledore thinks. He wanted to pack my son off to that self-righteous shrew in Surrey without so much as a by-your-leave. I shudder to think what he'd do if we weren't here. Savior of the wizarding world or no, my son's already lost one parent. He's not losing the rest of us."

"That's it, then? You'll just let Wormtail go like that?"

"I wouldn't say he's going unpunished. Every government in Europe is chasing after him and he's stuck as a fugitive rodent. It's not particularly easy being a rat in England right now. For all we know the fumigators have got him already."

"You know exactly how unlikely that is. The odds are that he's already out of England and looking for Voldemort. And sooner or later that means trouble."

"I understand as well as you that we haven't seen the end of all the trouble we will see in our lifetimes yet. I just refuse to go looking for it. There are more important things to concentrate on right now."

Sirius looked away momentarily, as though considering what to say, then looked back, and spoke deliberately, measuring his words in a manner that was utterly foreign to him.

"I understand that you need to be a good parent right now, and I know you feel closer to Lily that way. But that can't be the only thing you do, James. You need something more than that in your life, and so do all of us."

James's first reaction was a denial, but as he thought about it he didn't have any reason to contradict Sirius's words.

"Fair enough. But I'm not the one sitting out here brooding. And whatever you may think, revenge is not the answer either. If there's something more I need to do, it'll find me. What about you?"

"I don't want to leave behind this war halfway through, James. There were times during the war when I thought we could never do enough. Now I feel as though we can't do anything at all."

"We've had this war hanging over us for more than half of our lives. It's always been the background of everything we've done or thought about. I don't want that background for Harry. Someday the peace will end. We will have to fight; Harry will have to fight. Until then I want Harry to be a child. I don't want my best friends to brood over a traitor. Peter is lost, Sirius, but he doesn't have to take us with him."

Sirius nodded tightly, and looked away, closing his eyes in the sun. James wasn't completely satisfied, but he knew his friend well enough to let it rest. He went back up to Harry's nursery, where Lily was singing to Harry, who was trying to sing along, clapping his chubby hands enthusiastically. James conjured a bunch of colorful butterfly snitches, and Harry shrieked with delight as he and James went after them before they vanished. Ten minutes later, when Sirius came up and joined the melee, contributing a set of butterscotch bludgers, James looked up at Lily's portrait, and smiled.