Charmed Curses

Charmed Curses

By Lady Geuna

~~~~~~~~~~~

Forgetting the Pain

~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour must have passed when James finally lifted his head from the ground. He couldn't cry anymore, he realized. He'd finally reached the point where there were no tears at all. James rubbed at the dry salt-like streaks that his tears had made down his face and soon found himself staring at the blackened shell before him. He hated the sight of this; it made his heart tighten for some reason.

This was the future...?

It didn't look very different, really. He had noted that the street itself looked quite peaceful, even during the night. Much like it had been during his time. Was he not in his own time? Of course, his home certainly wasn't like this the last time he saw it. Was this really a world of darkness...? Was this actually daytime? Had Voldemort taken over? Were the people who used to live in these houses long dead...?

James wasn't aware of it himself, but he wasn't in his right state of mind. His actions were based solely on instinct, faint memories, and scattered thoughts as they flitted through his fuzzy mind. A breakdown, perhaps. The man had suffered so much in such a short period of time...

His mind wouldn't allow himself to accept this horrible fate, and instead marked it all as some terrible nightmare.

Yes, just a nightmare...

A terrible, terrible nightmare...

'Where could Lily and Harry have gone to... They weren't at home...'

James nodded to himself and slowly stumbled to his feet. His head was aching terribly, though he was no longer sure of why. He didn't have his wand, and his wand hand ached terribly (making him figure he wouldn't be able to cast and spells, anyway). But he wouldn't need that to Apparate No. Maybe Lily had run down to Diagon Alley. After all, it was probably daytime.

Yes, this was light...

There was a faint popping sound and he Disapparated. The street was empty once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was well into the night at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Arthur Weasley was one of few that had decided to stay, due to a large work load. Some idiot Wizard had decided to enchant an entire Muggle pottery shop, causing everything in the place to levitated.

In another unrelated incident, some poor dear named Martha Hatchet had gotten a bit too drunk during the evening celebrations of Halloween, and accidentally let a few curses fly while she had gone all tipsy. That resulted in a number of incarnated jack-o-lanterns, as well as a few children dressed as monster characters to transfigurate into such. Then when the Accidental Magic Reversal Square came along, it had resulted some more upsets due to the new rookie... Most of this could be let go due to many carefully placed Memory Charms, and the excuse of over enthusiasm on the part of the trick-or-treaters. If he heard the word "Obliviate" one more time...

Oh, it had been a long... long evening.

Though Mr. Arthur Weasley had been close to finishing for the day, he had slipped off into a peaceful sleep some time ago. His sleep was interrupted, however, by a slight popping sound. He sat up suddenly at his desk, looking at the person who had just Apparated.

Percy smiled slightly at him, crossing his arms. "Mum wanted me to check up on you."

Mr. Weasley blink, then glanced at the clock on the wall. The arm had since moved past "home" and now rested on "sleep." The arms was slowly moving back to the first massage, now that he'd woken up. Great, the paperwork would have to wait until tomorrow after all...

"Hello, Percy," he yawned, stretching his arms. "How was your day?"

Percy rolled his eyes slightly and pressed his glasses firmly to the bridge of his nose (A habit of his. He thought it looked cool, and hey! It did... The first three times in five minutes...). "The same as always. A lot a paper work, or course, and a few classified documents..." He sighed as though exasperated. "Mother is extremely frustrated that you didn't say anything. For all she knows you've... you've been eaten by an ogre, or bitten by a vampire, and...."

He smiled lovingly, his mind filling with the mental image of him wife hugging him, her eyes filled with tears of relief... Then her chasing after him, wielding a spatula threateningly. Ah. He wouldn't 've married any other woman...

"How sweet of her to worry-"

"... with missing dementors? I don't-oops!" Percy made a face that said "how did that slip out!?"

Mr. Weasley gave his son a very stern look. "Where did you hear that?"

Percy seemed to regret saying anything, lowing her head a bit sheepishly. "I-I heard some people talking about it... Saw a few files..." Yes, Percy just loved knowing things that other people didn't...

"Percy," he said quietly. "You know perfectly well that the Ministry is simply on edge because of the rumors." Rumors and facts were beginning to mean the same thing these days. The Weasley family had taken Harry Potter's experience as solemn truth rather than mere hallucination (as the Ministry would like to believe it to be). "The Dementors aren't truly under the Ministry's control, everyone knows that. If a few of them decide to wander off.. Just consider that Azkaban isn't the only place where they flourish..." Percy looked unnerved at this fact, then he added, "If you say even a single word of to your mother, I can be certain that she won't allow me to return to work ever again. And much less let anyone else out of the house. She's deadly protective." Mr. Weasley allowed a hint of humor to enter his voice, seeing as how his scolding had gotten to his son.

But some subjects weren't meant to be toyed with... Not with the risk of spread panic that the Ministry was already fighting to contain.

Percy nodded, taking the opportunity to change to subject. "You know how she gets when she's not fully informed, highly irrational..."

'Yet you don't realize you take after her.' Mr. Weasley grinned at this thought, but didn't voice it out loud. Just like his mother, Percy was likely to make a big deal of it and get frustrated.

And went he was frustrated, he let everyone know (Also just like his mother.).

He stood and began gathering his things and placing them into his briefcase. "I've been right here this whole time, anyway..."

"And we have just been informed that Fred and George have been starting another undercover business. They have made a few special item for the Halloween holiday. "Weasley's Exploding Bat Bombers" or some such." He made a face to show his distaste. "A dare say we can't do anything about it until they get home, unless mother send a Howler or two..."

"Really?" Mr. Weasley smiled, leaning forward a bit. "Is the, er, "business" working out at all...?"

"Father! I can't believe you wouldn't approve-"

"Where do you think they get it from? Their mother!?" Mr. Weasley chuckled at the face Percy made. "They are still children, Percy, give them a little room. They grow out of it."

Percy was about to comment in those last two particular statements, but some loud noises coming from the hallway caught his attention. The sound of running footsteps. Next, a man holding a file of documents came bursting in, his face flushed with excitement. He was practically trembling. "Arthur, you won't believe what's happened!"

Mr. Weasley looked confused, stepping away from his desk. "What is it, Will?"

Will Furginson, a fellow Ministry employee in the Transportation department, took a paper from his file and shoved it excitedly in his face. "Today, the Ministry got wind that some Wizard went off and Disapparated in some Muggle neighborhood. He was laying there for a while, and some family called the police. Then he just got up and poof! Was gone! They told the police about that, too. Don't know where to, exactly. No one could figure out where he Apparated to, either. He wasn't a registered Wizard, either." Every Wizard and Witch in Britain was registered under the Ministry (like having a Social Security Number in America).

"That isn't right," Percy spoke up loudly, coming to stand by his father, his chin held high as he nodded knowingly. "The Ministry should be able to figure out who that was, after all. If he leave the right traces, they can."

"If they find some traces, yeah. The Department of Magical Transportation got right on that. But that's the thing." Furginson's voice had lowered and become very grave. "They did figure out who it was. The guy had bled all over the sidewalk. But his name's been off record for the past fourteen years...."

"Merlin's Beard." Mr. Weasley's eyes had widen in shock, then shot up to meet Furginson's. "There must be s-...some mistake."

"There must be, yeah. You don't keep dead men on record. A prank of some sort, probably. Although, it's really hard to pull a prank like this... Arthur..." Furginson paused for a moment, seeing how pale Arthur had become. "The creepy thing is... is that whoever the bugger was, he'd been standin' right in front of the Potter's old house..."

"Potter? James Potter...?" Percy had had looked over his fathers shoulder, and was now goggling just the same. "That's preposterous! How would make such a prank!?"

"Will, I want to see the rest of these reports," Mr. Weasley said sternly, handing the paper back. "I don't care if this isn't my department, and don't give me excuses. Percy, go home and don't breath a word of this to your mother. I'll be working later than I expected tonight..."

Percy didn't get a chance to argue before his father strode out of the office with Furginson.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When James Apparated he found himself in darkness again. He was in a small room filled with tall shelves full of tiny boxes. A storage room, perhaps?

Oops, he must've gotten it wrong... this isn't look at all like Diagon Alley. There were no people, no noise.... "I need to sleep," he stated to himself, his voice barely audible even in the silence. He was exhausted, mentally as well as physically. James vaguely wondered what had happen to make him feel that way, but gave into it just the same. Sleep didn't seem like a bad idea at all. He would look for Lily and Harry when he woke up, when he got his energy back. Maybe then all the clouds in his head would have cleaned.

He settled himself tightly in a dark corner, wrapping his arms around himself. The person who owned this place, wherever it was, wouldn't mind if he stayed for the night.

James would find Lily and Harry tomorrow, yes. It would be odd, sleeping somewhere other than his bed, will his wife laying quietly next to him. The sound of her faint breathing. Her red hair tickling his nose when they got very close.

A faint memory flashed in his head, but he couldn't focus on it. Flashes of color... Red... Laughing?

Something was wrong. Something wasn't right. Why wasn't Lily with him? She's always there....

Slowly, James let blackness fill his mind as he fell into a dreamless sleep...

~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry lay awake in bed, his eyes half open. His curtains where open the slightest bit so he could look out the window at the moon-filled sky. For a brief moment, Harry though of the fact that Professor Lupin would be transforming tonight. It was a full moon. Then he went back to just laying there....

And all the while he couldn't figure out why he was being plagued with anxiety. Well, it was sort of like anxiety. It was also this odd warm feeling he had in his chest. Harry had been feeling it since the Halloween Feast that late evening, but still couldn't put a finger on /why/.

His thoughts went back to the conversation he had with Ron just before they'd gone to bed...

///Flashback/

/"So," Ron prompted.

Harry looked ever at him as he straightened out his blankets for the night. "'So'... what?"

Ron sighed. "D' you have any idea of what that was? When you got all dizzy an' all?"

"No..." He frowned, shaking his head as climbing onto bed. "It was weird. Like deja vu, but worse."

"Worse?"

"Hmm.. I don't know..." Harry's head sank into his pillows. Normally that would be relaxing, but it didn't help now. "Like it was all too real. Like I was repeating something, a memory, but I still wasn't sure of what it is."

"Weird," Ron agreed, sitting down on his own bed. "What kind of deja vu?"

"What do you mean, what kind?"

"You know, deja vu is like you've done something twice. Or like you've don't something, but can't remember what that something was. But then you remember.... You've done it before but it's happening again. Or at least I think that's what it is..." He sounded confused.

Harry thought on this. "Maybe it wasn't deja vu.... But I just had the strangest feeling..."

"Ask Hermione tomorrow! She can probably look something up in a book! Maybe you accidentally ate something. Or you still had something on your hands from potions? And weedroot or whatever can do some weird stuff!"

Silence.

"You feeling all right, Harry?"

Harry sighed, but smiled. "Of course... I don't really want to think about it anymore. Goodnight, Ron."

"Yeah. G' night, Harry."

/End Flashback///

'So much for not thinking about it', he scuffed mentally. Maybe Harry was just making a big deal out of nothing. After all, it wasn't like his scar was hurting or anything. Maybe if it still bothered him in the morning he'd talk to Dumbledore, and he could mention it in his next letter to Sirius...?

Finally, after much effort, Harry drifted off to sleep..

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wake-up."

James grumbled, shaking his head. "No..."

The sound of footsteps. A hand on his shoulder. The hand was shaking him persistently. Then it moved away.

"I said wake-up. Who are you? What are you doing in my shop?"

Frustrated, James slowly opened his eyes. It was still dark, and that alone was beginning to annoy him. How long had he been asleep, anyway?

"Who are you," the voice repeated. The man was no more than a faint black outline before him, holding a wand in a ready position. "If you don't tell me immediately, I'll..." He shifted his wand hand some more, indicating that he was more than ready to simply let a curse fly.

James knew that voice. For once, a happy memory came to mind and he smiled. "Mr. Ollivander, how good to see you., er... hear you."

The shadow (Ollivander) stiffened. His wand hand lowered a bit, and then raised again. "Lumos!"

He winced at the sudden presence of light. James held his arms in front of his eyes in an effort to keep it away. When that didn't help, he patiently waited for his eyes to adjust. Then he was able to see Mr. Ollivander clearly. The man stood, looking rather... terrified, actually. What in the world would he have reason to be afraid of?

"W-Who are you!?"

James was finally able to look up toward the light, but unfortunately his glasses weren't doing much to focus his vision anymore. They were badly damaged by now and scraped up as if by sand paper. His smiled slightly, unaware of Mr. Ollivander's reaction. "Don't be daft, I'm James, as always. I thought you remembered every customer..."

"Mr. Potter...?" His voice was trembling and he was shifting on his feet. "Twelve inches, phoenix tail feather, Beechwood..."

"Eleven," he corrected instantly. "Mahogany." James chuckled knowingly. "Trying to trick me, are you?"

"N-No, I-"

"Lily has a unicorn tail hair. Remember? Willow, ten and one-fourth inches. We're looking forward to when we can bring Harry here, when he's older or course..." He didn't need perfect vision to tell that Mr. Ollivander was in some sort of shock. "Are you alright, sir? You look a terrible fright. Like you've seen a ghost! The Halloween spirit got a little away with you?" He laughed at this. And didn't stop.

It felt good to laugh.

James wasn't paying attention as the older man knelt down next to him and examined his injured right hand. It wasn't broken, he didn't think, but it felt bruised and was terribly painful to move the fingers.

"How did this happen... Mr. Potter... James..." It was as if saying that name was frightening and painful in itself, like he had some difficulty getting it out. But nevertheless, his voice was soft and quiet, just like it normally was. "Where is your wand?"

He instantly stopped laughed, looking into the other man's eyes. "I don't really remember.. Oh yes... Voldemort had a trick up his sleeve, I suppose." 'No wait, that was the dream...' He noted that Mr. Ollivander flinched when he said that name.

So, people still feared that name...? Oh yes...

"Have you seen Lily? I am sure she's here somewhere... I had the worst dream..." Stood, realizing that Mr. Ollivander was urging him to get off the floor.

"It is very good to see you, my boy," Mr. Ollivander whispered, squeezing his shoulder as if James was in need of some sort of comfort. He didn't need comfort, he was perfectly fine. "I don't know why or how..."

He was led forward toward a chair. Around the corner of a shelf James could make out a window. Sunlight was streaming through it. 'Ah, so there still was light... It had all been a dream. Thank God.' "Where is Lily, sir?"

Mr. Ollivander once again didn't answer his question and instead said quickly, "You say your wand was destroyed. Tsk, tsk. Pity!" He was speaking ten times faster than James was accustom to. Was he nervous? "But wait here, I think I can find another one similar..." Then he was off, looking at a shelf that was out of sight.

He nodded absently as the man left, barely taking notice. James enjoyed just watching the sunlight. Faintly, he could make out the noises of people walking up and down the street of Diagon Alley. Not very many people at the moment, though. It must be very early in the morning, otherwise the streets would be jam packed, as the Underground of London usually was. Well, at least he had gone to the right place after all. Imagine what would've happened if he found himself in Knockturn Alley!?

It was no wonder he'd recognized this place, though. You don't forget the place you buy your first wand. Never. All those many years ago... He couldn't wait to take Harry to get his first wand. Lily would be so proud. His beautiful Lily...

He saw Mr. Ollivander go to the front door for a moment, flipping a small sigh on the door to indicate the store was closed and lowered the shades. Even though the room was now (magically) illuminated, James couldn't help but miss the natural sunlight that had been shut away. Why would Ollivander need to close the store? Oh dear, he hoped he wasn't being a nuisance... The man returned again, carrying a wand box in his hands.... He looked much older than he should.

"Here." Mr. Ollivander carefully opened the box and brought out the wand inside. "Mahogany, phoenix tail feather. Ten inches, but rather close I could hope. Built very strong."

Absently, James reached for the item with his right hand, his wand hand. It still ached terribly, and he noticed that the rest of his body still felt the same. Goodness, a lot must have happened to him. Yeah couldn't he remember?

Mr. Ollivander noticed his discomfort, but prompted, "You just need to test it, dear boy." Each word he uttered was quiet and precise. How peculiar the man had become. "I hate to admit I am not skilled in the ways of healing, but maybe I can find something. Trust me when I say you will need this... For your own protecting..." Hold the piece of wood delicately, Mr. Ollivander thrust the wand forward so the handle was touching James' palm. "You won't have to cast any spells right now, just give it a wave..."

James obeyed, taking the wand, and with a bit of difficulty, wrapped his fingers tightly around it. He gave it a small wave and... Ah yes... A stream of gold and red sparkles flew in front of his eyes. Just like the first time he'd ever gotten a wand. He could hardly see a difference. How pretty. He smiled at the memory, remembering how his father and mother had reacted with such joy. "Thank you, sir... Oh, I will need to get some Galleons from Gringotts. I'm afraid I have no money with me, if maybe a few Muggle coins-..." He tried handing back the wand, but Mr. Ollivander refused.

"No, no, no," he insisted, pushing his wand gently back to him. "It's yours; you need one."

James smiled. "Thank you, I don't know what to say..."

"Just take it, please." He obeyed once again, slumping into the chair. James' body protested to any movement he made. It was getting to be annoying. "I'll... get you something to wash that blood off..."

'Blood?' James brought his hand up to his face. 'Oh yes, just like in his dream... That's not right.' James sighed. "I had a strange dream," he murmured, even as Mr. Ollivander left. "Lily and Harry were in danger... Voldemort... I hit my head on the kitchen floor of think. Then I was at our house, but it wasn't really. It was gone. I Disapparated... and Apparated here, I think..." He touched the long line of dried blood that clung to his brow and down the side of his face. He must look a complete mess, no wonder Mr. Ollivander was so nervous. "How very odd."

Mr. Ollivander returned, juggled and bowl of water, a rag, and a bottle half full of some sort of clear blue liquid. For the lack of a table nearby, he set it all at James' feet. The man still seemed very apprehensive. James couldn't remember ever seeing the man like this.

"Is something wrong, sir?"

"No, my boy, nothing's wrong." He gave what to James seemed like a forced smile. "You... You stay here. Right here, Mr. Potter. I have something very important to do. Will you stay here?"

James barely paid attention to the question, his mind going back to his own. "Sir, have you seen Lily? My son?"

"I-I..." Mr. Ollivander became very pale, his eyes fleeting around rapidly, then something seemed to hit him and he answered, "Harry is at school."

That was a surprise. "Really? But Harry is only a baby.... School already...? Hogwarts..." Mr. Ollivander nodded slowly. This was wonderful news (even though it didn't make any sense)! "His house?"

Mr. Ollivander frowned a bit. "Um... Gryffindor, I believe...?"

His heart swelled with pride when he hear this this.

His son, a Gryffindor. But how...?

"I will be right back, Mr. Potter. Please... Um, you may use this if you would like." He gestured at the things he'd brought. "It will all be alright, Mr. Potter. It will..." He gave James another squeeze on the shoulder and disappeared to somewhere within the wand shop.

James starred down at the bowl for a moment before getting up from his chair and knelt beside it. The surface of the water was slightly reflective, so he took a look... He looked absolutely ghastly. James' face was deadly pale, and he had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. One side of his face was covered with dried blood the color of rust. Frowning, James proceeded to wash it all away using the rag. Never touched the blue substance.

When you can't identify it, assume the worst, that's the key. He and Sirius had learned that the hard way one day their second year in Potions...

Never liked that class, but at least it wasn't Herbology. Dreadful subject.

When he was finished, he half wondered where Mr. Ollivander went. Then...

Oh yes, Lily. He felt a little better, so now he could go look.

"Borrowing" a cloak that he found on a wall hook nearby, James hurried from the shop and into the slowly growing crowd outside...

'I'm coming, love...'

It was all a dream, it was all a dream...

Just a nightmare.....

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Ollivander returned after a moment to check on James. He shouldn't have left the poor boy alone, not in his state... But when he returned, Mr. Ollivander found the chair James had occupied empty. The rag and water where tinged with red, indicating that James /had/ used them. The bloody water and rag were the only evidence that the boy had ever been there in the first place. This gave Mr. Ollivander some relief, because he meant that he wasn't going insane or hallucinating....

Though his cloak was missing from its hook.

And the front door was wide open.

"Oh dear..."

Clutching the letter he'd just written in his hands, Mr. Ollivander rushed into the street to see if he could stop the man. But he was long gone, and there would be no was to pick him out in the crowd. Quickly, Mr. Ollivander Disapparated to the Owl Office, the one right near Gringott's.

Phantom hallucination, trick or not, he had to tell Albus Dumbledore of what he'd just seen...

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning at Hogwarts was a dingy one, but no less cheerful in his case. If wasn't an hour until the students (most of them anyway) would be getting up from bed. Most of the faculty was also up, to either get lessons together or to eat.

Albus Dumbledore was heading out of his office early that Tuesday morning, ready to walk down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Going there early was always a good habit, where he could think and gaze up at the incarnated ceiling. And, from time to time, prevent the Weasley twins from planning, erm, "jokes" under that Slytherin table. Though, watching a person become totally blue and sparkly was indeed an amusing sight...

Though it's no good to encourage such behavior... Maybe he should stop it, then?

He also wished to talk to Dorrey. The... new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor... Sadly, the man didn't seem to up to the job any longer. A number of Slytherins had gotten it into his head that he wouldn't last through the year, considering the number of people who'd gone through the position in four years...

And possibly five years at this rate.

Dumbledore didn't get very far, however, when he had just reached the stone gargoyle. A large gray owl stood perched upon the gargoyles head. A minute owl by the looks of it, and a very nice one as well. It also looked very exhausted, it's rapidly heaving chest feather fluffed up in an attempt to block out the cold it had flown through.

"Hello," Dumbledore said, eyeing the message tied to the owls leg. "Is that for me?" He saw no outside indication of who the letter was for, but the owl gave a weak hoot in response and allowed Dumbledore to removed the parchment. "You've had a long flight, friend. Just rest a bit..." The owl simply hooted, tucked its head under its wing, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

For a moment Dumbledore thought of waiting until he got to the Great Hall to open the letter, but curiosity was too much. If someone was this eager to get a message to him then it must be important. He immediately recognized the symbol on the wax seal to be of "Mr. Ollivander's Wand Makers"...

As he walked toward to Great Hall, he began reading. And stopped in his tracks.

"..........."

Dumbledore's face gained an unusually serious quality as he began walking again. Well, running actually.

He had a now very urgent mission for both Severus and Minerva. Word to Sirius would be sent out immediately to Lupin's home. They would want to know...

~~~~~~~~~~~