Pandora's Box

PS James, stop causing contention.

It was a smug Severus who told James of the letters’ contents--minus, of course, the date that Pandora had bet upon. James’ jaw dropped in shock as Severus quickly slipped away before Pandora’s letter could be ripped away from his hands. James sat down beside Lily with a stunned look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Lily asked as she placed one small hand on his shoulder. James shook his head to clear it, and then frowned.

“My brother is a bookie,” he grumbled, “and my grandmother gambles.” He took a vicious bite out of his toast and chewed thoughtfully.

Lily and James were in one of their indifferent moods when their class graduated. Without too much of a backward look (at least, when he thought no one was looking), James set off to join the Department of Law And Order. With his background of Defence Against Dark Arts, his family connections, and Frank Longbottom’s insistence, James was quickly allowed into the ranks of the Aurors, the magical equivalent to the SWATs. With Frank Longbottom as his superior and team leader, James found it easy to learn the protocols of the Aurors, the duties, and the dangers.

His time was mostly spent with learning and being trained to fight under difficult circumstances. He went home to Dinsmore as often as possible. Severus was cold and withdrawn, almost as if he resented James’ presence. As he watched Severus stalk silently through the halls, ignoring the portraits as they called after him, James knew that Severus would have used any possible excuse to escape this area. The only thing that kept Severus there was the need for someone to see to the Snape-Potter finances and the somewhat more insignificant duty of introducing the concept of magic to Muggles and their magic-born children.

Dinsmore was distant and cold; it felt as if it had been empty of warmth since the day Pandora left. James disliked visiting. Severus’ coldly dominant presence seemed to strip James of any cheerfulness he might have had before visiting. James did though, as regularly as he could. He knew and understood that Severus would not leave Dinsmore to rot away without care, but he had a small inkling of suspicion that Severus would leave one day without a word. James did not want to be ignorant of Dinsmore’s current status if Severus did leave without warning.

James often brought company along, more as a barrier against Dinsmore’s emptiness and Severus’ distant attitude than anything else. Sirius, Peter, Lily, even Remus if at all possible, all visited Dinsmore with him. Remus stopped after the first few times. He could stand the emptiness and Severus’ attitude even less than Lily could, who usually cried after every visit. Frank was the only one brave enough to see Severus alone. He seemed less affected by the state of Dinsmore or Severus’ attitude. Stubborn and patient with Severus, he brought sweets along that Severus was fond of but always refused to admit it.

And then a slight change overcome Severus’ attitude. It was not so much that Severus grew closer to James, or warmed up, but there was a desperate note in his voice that no one else but James seemed to notice; a plea for James’ help. After a few weeks, James decided to come to Dinsmore alone, to give Severus as chance to speak to him without someone to influence matters. Perhaps all Severus needed to confide with James of what was wrong was privacy.

James’ suspicions were confirmed when Severus handed him a mug of hot cocoa. It had been an unspoken signal in their youth at Hogwarts, a silent warning to brace oneself against inevitable bad news.

They both stared at their mugs in silence. James finally cleared his throat and spoke. “What is it?” he asked.

Severus snorted and pushed his hot cocoa away. He crossed his arms before himself and glanced to the side. “I have something very important to tell you,” he said with a slight quiver in his voice.

Panic laced through James. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he sat upright. He found himself automatically assumed the worst. “Is it about Grandmother? Have you received bad news from her?” A calm shake of Severus’ heard stilled the panic, but not the pain in James’s heart.

“No.” Severus looked at James. His black eyes begged James for his understanding. “But she would be so disappointed and saddened with me.”

Uh oh, James thought. His heart throbbed in painful sympathy. “What did you do?” What could have Severus have done that Pandora would be disappointed and saddened by? It had to be something dreadful, because James had difficulty comprehending that Severus would do something like that.

Severus leaned forward, an almost symbolic gesture of closing the distance that had grown between the two brothers. He spread his hands wide in a gesture of pleading. “James, I have never asked much from you. I ask now that you hear everything I have to say, without interruption, and without making judgments, until I say I have nothing more to say in defence and in reasoning for my actions. Please."

James had a deep, sinking feeling. He covered his face with his hands. "What did--"

"No. I'm not done. I know that Grandmother tried to get us to be good brothers, but it never quite worked. I never had the trust capable of asking you to trust me. It would never work for that. Now I am asking for your trust, and believe me, it is much harder to do this than doing what I had done that forced me in this situation to ask in the first place. Hear me out, please."

James dropped his hands and stared at Severus for a long moment. The pain . . . He laid his hands flat on the table, the fingers splayed wide, so Severus could not see them shake. The desperation in Severus’ eyes was stark and raw. James wanted to cry, for everything that should have been said but was not, for everything that should not have been said but was. Severus was giving him a great gift in that moment. It was a gift he did not deserve--at least, not after what had happened that one full moon so long ago, it seemed. That trust had been shredded beyond the hope of ever being repaired. Now, though, Severus was trying to make a new trust. "For you," James said with a deep croak. "For the ties that make us family, for Grandmother, and for the sake of our being together makes us strong whereas our being separated makes us weak." For everything that we lost that shouldn’t have been lost, he added silently. Severus smiled nervously in return.

"Thank you. No interruptions?"

"No interruptions."

Severus sighed. His eyes rested upon the top of James’ hands. "It all starts with this." Severus visibly gathered his resolve together, and swiftly yanked his sleeve back.

The sight of Voldemort’s black skull with a snake for a tongue made James reel up and back in shock as pain exploded in his chest. He knocked his chair over and froze at the sound of it hitting the kitchen floor. He stared at Severus and wanted to tear the Dark Mark away his brother’s flesh. Anger filled him until it almost pushed the pain out of his heart.

I>WHY? James looked into Severus’ eyes and saw the resignation of a man who knew he was condemned. The anger stemmed into another direction. This could not be Severus’ fault; Severus only did something unless it was important. Severus had to have been pushed into it for some vital reason. The trust that Severus now extended to him, the trust that James would have because Severus bore such a mark on his body, was not worth the hurt Severus must have gone through to accept it.

James finally understood the haunted look in Severus’ eyes that had plagued him for some time.

And because he was Severus’ brother and because he was Pandora’s grandson, James found the strength to right his chair and sit down in it across from Severus again. But it was because he knew how difficult it was for Severus to even show him his arm that James made the decision to help Severus the best he could, starting with listening to what Severus had to say.

“I’m going to need something a bit stronger than hot chocolate,” James said with a forced calm. “Where does Grandmother keep the vodka?”

The vodka was a warmth that settled in his stomach. It did not ease the pain in James’ heart, but he knew that if he drank enough of it then he would eventually forget about it. He cradled the drink close. It was a strong mixture--being Cousin Quigley’s recipe for a bloody stressful matter (or so the ancestor claimed as he directed James in mixing it from one of the pictures nearby)--and did help stabilize his nerves. He smiled as bravely as he could at Severus and waved his hand in a vague gesture for Severus to continue. The grateful smile Severus gave him seemed to make up for all the trouble in the past.

This was what was important. For Severus to communicate, to share with James, as they should have when they were children.

“We all have choices,” Severus said solemnly. “And I always tried to think carefully of the consequences of the choices I made." James nodded in agreement. He could remember Pandora saying something like that before she left. "It begins with Lucius."

James frowned. He always knew that Lucius would cause terrible trouble for Severus and this was proof. He opened his mouth to tell Severus, but was waved quiet.

"I will have you know I did not deliberately seek Voldemort out. However, as Pandora Potter's grandson, Lucius believed Voldemort would be pleased if he, Lucius, presented me to him as a gift. So he made up a letter from Grandmother, and I stupidly opened it. There was a charm in the seal that knocked me out and Lucius whisked me away to Voldemort."

James nodded again. Yes, that was something Lucius would do. Petty, but affective. "Voldemort gave me a choice: death or join him and receive anything I want."

James decided to be tactful and not say anything. Severus watched him warily.

"I decided death just wouldn't suit me. You know , when I die, I've decided I'm going to haunt someone. With my luck being what it was at the moment though, I would die and not get to haunt Lucius." With that, Severus reached across the table and took James’ drink from him. James panicked for a moment. Did Severus believe he was drinking too much? The sight of Severus’ hands shaking as he took a sip instantly dispelled James’ worry. Severus was not the only one in need of something strong.

"When I looked into Voldemort's eyes, I knew I had to fight him. I understood then Grandmother's desperation to understand the depths of that--that monster's power. But what good would I be if I died? I would not be the first person he would have killed, and no one else haunts him.”

James thought of his parents and shuddered. Severus took another sip before he gave the drink back to James. "So I said I would join him for knowledge.”

James’ eyes popped open in surprise. He knew that Severus always held knowledge and learning in high esteem, but Severus was not the sort to sell his soul. Was he? James felt desperation fill him. What had he done to force Severus this way? It had to have been James’ fault--perhaps if James had pushed Severus and made him open up, then maybe this would not have happened. What did they call this? A call for attention?

As if sensing James’ thoughts, Severus shook his head and held a finger in the air to emphasis his next words. "Knowledge of his actions. Knowledge that could be passed to the Aurors, who could use it to their advantage in the struggle to defeat him."

Oh. Oh dear. James had a feeling as to where this was going, and he did not think he cared for it.

"I would be a spy for you, James. I could give you the information you need, and if anyone asks where you got it, just tell them you have a spy. Don't tell others what I am or where you get the information. It must be a secret between the two of us. Dumbledore can't know, Lily can't know, Sirius can't know; don't even let Grandmother know. The less people who know of what I am, the less chance there will be of Voldemort finding himself in a position where he would have to kill me, whether or not I am Pandora Potter's grandson and your brother."

James turned away from Severus. The pain in his heart was making it difficult for him to breath. He desperately sipped his vodka as he tried to think of some possible way to help Severus. Anger filled him as he found himself hating Voldemort. Why did it always seem that just when James was getting ahead, there was Voldemort to stop him?

“James?” he heard Severus say in a pleading voice. “Please don’t let my choice be in vain.”

James slammed his glass of vodka on to the table as hard as he could. He took a small bit of satisfaction in seeing Severus jump, and he laughed bitterly at the irony of a Death Eater asking an Auror for help. "It never ceases to amaze me how Voldemort destroys our family so easily time and time again." In that moment, an eerie sensation invaded James. It felt as if he had just discovered a truth, but it was too complex for him to understand with simple thoughts and words. He stood up and began to pace. He forced the sensation away and focused on the more important matter at hand: Severus.

"How can you be so calm about this entire thing? That mark is a death warrant!” He stabbed a vicious finger at the Dark Mark that seemed to glare at him. Severus’ face was filled with conflicting emotions--shame, stubbornness, regret--as he pulled his long sleeve over the Dark Mark to hide it from James’ sight. "There are those who will kill you first then ask questions later about why you were with Voldemort. I don't want to use you as a spy. It places you into too much of a risk with people doing just that."

Severus rubbed the Dark Mark through his sleeve as if it pained him. "It wasn't much a family when I became part of it," he snarled. James bristled angrily. Severus sighed and hastened to explain what he meant. "What would or could be destroyed was done so before I was adopted."

Again the eerie sensation filled James. His hand trembled as his heart thudded painfully in his chest. James picked up his vodka glass and carried it over to Pandora’s store of various alcohols. He threw several unknown substances into his glass and hoped it would not kill him to drink it. He sat down again and carefully arranged his thoughts. He had to tell Severus how he felt. "If I use you as a spy, I would be no more different than Lucius. He used you to gain the favour of Voldemort, and I would be using you to gain the favour of, well, I'd be using you." I’d be using you like Voldemort, in the same manner of how Voldemort used me against Grandmother.

"It is my idea."

"I don't like it.” Grandmother is gone, and I know she isn’t coming back. I can’t afford to lose you either. “If Voldemort learns you are a spy, being Grandmother’s grandson isn't going to save you. If the Aurors discover you as a Death Eater, being my brother will not save you.” I’ll kill them to protect you if I have to, but we should not divide ourselves like this. I don’t want to deceive people. “Either way, you are trapped." Please, let’s just get out of this together. James fought back the desperate tears in his eyes.

"And how many will die in the future?" Severus asked swiftly as James looked away. "Right now, the Aurors are blind. You fumble in the dark, striking wildly at anything that moves. Voldemort has the advantage at the moment because he is a creature of the dark that knows exactly what is going on. How much could you change the odds if I feed you information? I could be the light in the darkness that would show you people where to go."

Ah Severus. Why did the Hat put you in Slytherin? Knowing full well how Severus would react to that concept, James instead struggled to explain why he did not want Severus to do this. "I don't like using you. What if you give us false information accidentally? How will both of us feel then? What if we let something slip and Voldemort finds out? There are too many unknown factors here."

"Your biggest problem is that you don't want to use me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's wrong. It'll be just like the way Voldemort uses people.” James’ mind stuttered to a halt. He tried to force it back on track, to explain to Severus why it was wrong. “We don’t have to stoop to their petty level.” He paused again. He cursed his lack of eloquence, of not being able to communicate on separate levels to convey a single idea. “We’re better than them."

They glared defiantly at one another. Severus shifted in his seat and looked at James with hooded eyes. "Remember how we met Lily?"

"If you change the subject, I'm going to decide this conversation is closed and will not allow it not be brought up again."

"I'm trying to make a point, you dolt.”

James winced. Severus was starting to use his sarcasm, and James did not in the mood to suffer the sharp end of Severus’ tongue.

“Now let me finish. When Pandora told parents that their children were capable of magic and that yes, magic did exist, she first learned how acceptable the idea itself was for the parents by watching us manipulate one another into getting the child's reaction to it. In this, we do nothing dif--"

"This is different!" James jumped to his feet. "This is not a game for us! There are too many lives and too many consequences now. We cannot afford to risk lives for a little bit of knowledge. I won't risk you.” The older brother in James balked at the idea of risking his little brother. James fought to protect his loved ones, not jeopardize them. Now if he could just tell Severus how much he loved Severus, how important it was to him that Severus was kept safe, how much he wanted to keep the family together since the Potter trio was down to being the Potter duo.

"And it is too late now!" Severus stood up and loomed menacingly over James. "I am already a Death Eater. I have sat in on plans, made suggestions, and tomorrow, I lead an attack against the Muggle Slums of London. How do I back out of this situation? I cannot. Where do I run that Voldemort will not eventually find me?" He stopped long enough to lower his volume and change tactics. "It was my life or Lily's."

James’ strength disappeared. He collapsed in his chair as horror filled him. Lily? Lily’s life was on line? Tears stung at his eyes again, but James did not know if it was from the pain in his chest or the idea of losing soft, sweet Lily. He heard Severus shift his weight and sit down. When Severus spoke, his voice was low and persuasive. "And now that it is my life that will be forfeit should I turn my back on Voldemort. If you refuse to take advantage of the choice I made, then it's useless. My life will be worth nothing."

James looked at Severus. Severus leaned close until their faces almost touched. “Are you so bent on doing what is honourable that, when I try to leave Voldemort otherwise, I will be played with? Do you want that instead? I would rather be used as a tool that could stop him than a plaything for his amusement!"

Images flashed through James’ mind, images that still caused him nightmares and made him long for Pandora’s gentle arms and soft breast. James vividly remembered blood on the walls and blood on the floor, his father with his eyes open and his mother face-first in a lake of blood. But the image that hurt the most was Oliver holding Jonathon’s head as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

Again, the eerie feeling filled James as he fought against admitting that Severus was right, and continuing his vain attempt to talk Severus out of being a Death Eater. If Severus remains a Death Eater . . . James’ imagination instantly conjured up an image of Severus lying crosswise over Voldemort’s knees. His throat was cut from end to end and his blood spilled all over Voldemort’s legs, but his expression was one of rapture.

A voice, sounding much like Pandora’s, spoke in James’ mind. We all have to die someday. We all every one of us were not meant to live forever. Tom Riddle, in that aspect, is an abomination. For the sake of future generations, we must sacrifice all that we have to assure a safe future for our loved ones.

“Fine,” whispered James, against the pain in his heart. “So be my spy.” He hurried away from the kitchen and stumbled up the stairs to the floor above. His vision was blurred with tears that spilled forth. More from memory than from sight, James hurried to Pandora’s room. He ignored the streaming tears and the pain the best he could as he sat in Pandora’s rocking chair and wrapped her shawl around his shoulders. He thought he imagined a whiff of lavender.

James sniffled and swept one hand over his eyes to wipe away his tears. He looked at his hand and froze. His hand began to shake as he slowly stood up and walked over to the Mirror of Rebounds. He yanked the blue cloth off of it and stared into its murky depths at his reflection. The blue cloth fell from his numb grasp.

Blood.

James Potter was crying tears of blood.

James noticed something important the next time he met Lily. They had arranged a small luncheon date together at a café at Diagon Alley. James arrived first and commandeered a booth in the shade. He noticed Lily hurrying to the café, her red hair floating around her head like an angle’s halo. In that moment, he felt all too mortal and all too old.

He wanted to be young, carefree, and happy. Lily was the only one capable of making him feel like that any more in those days. With Voldemort twisting Dark Arts into something people were too frightened of to even speak about behind closed doors, Remus had gone into hiding in fear of others learning that he was a werewolf. As a creature created by a dark force of nature, the Aurors would execute him publicly if they so much as suspected that Remus was in league with the Dark Lord. James was officially supposed to report all dark creatures, but he knew that he could never say a word about Remus. No one saw much of him any more though, and Sirius was becoming fidgety about the manner. Sirius remained with James as much as he could, but he was swiftly becoming a cynical soul, much like Severus. James was sure that neither Severus nor Sirius would appreciate being compared to one another in a similar way, but that was how James saw it.

And Peter . . . Well, Peter was Peter, though he too was distancing himself from James.

Not, of course, in the same manner as Remus was. Peter still communicated with James and Sirius and always had a lot to tell them. He just could not do it so very often. James could understand that. Confrontation was never part of Peter’s forte and he had a widowed mother whose increasing need for care due to a degenerative disease of the body demanded a great deal of his time and attention. Medical bills were expensive and Peter scrambled to hold their tiny family estate together as he best could with a job as a clerk for a cauldron shop.

Peter never knew that James was having the most expensive bills sent to him personally where he secretly paid them. Peter had enough problems with bills as it was, though James did not want Peter to feel indebted toward him.

What was the use of a fortune large enough fund Hogwarts for ten years if he did not get to spend it?

Life was like that. You either nothing to do and all the time in the world, or you had everything to do but no time in the world.

Looking upon Lily, James knew that it was now or never. He felt as if he were standing on a crossroads, torn over which direction he should head. He would never come back to this crossroads and take the other path if the first one did not work out.

“Lily,” he said as she sat down beside him, “I have something important to ask you.”

Lily, puzzled but patient, nodded. “Yes?”

James leaned forward and took on of her tiny hands into his. “Would you marry me?”

Lily looked at James for a long moment. Her eyes were wide and her mouth opened and closed without her saying a word. She looked away from him and then back, and he could see tears brimming in her eyes. “Oh, James!” A large smile lit up her face, and in that moment James thought her to be the most beautiful creature that ever existed. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that ever since you wrote me that poem!”

She threw her arms around James in a large hug. “Yes!” she cried as she gave him a sloppy kiss. “Yes!” -smooch- “Yes!” -smooch- “Yes!” -smooch-

When they finally pulled apart, James asked her another question. “What poem?”

Lily smiled at him as she turned and signalled a waiter. “Why, the poem you gave Severus to deliver to me.”

“I never wrote you a poem.”

Lily looked at James. Her smile turned into puzzlement. “Yes, you did. It was signed with your name, it was in your handwriting, and Severus said that I should place its value on the effort if not the actual poem itself.”

James shook his head as he struggled to remember that. “But I never wrote you a poem. Sev made me . . . Wait a minute.” He frowned. “For a flower? Did the poem start with, if you were a flower?”

Lily smiled and nodded. “Yes.” She blushed lightly. “There were a couple of girls in my dorm that thought the poem was bad, but I thought it was beautiful.”

James frowned. “Yeah. Beautiful.”

Lily covered his hand with her own. James managed to cover his frown with a smile. “James,” she said, “do you mean to tell me that you never wrote me a poem? I mean, if you didn’t, then it’s all right. I won’t be mad at you. But I don’t think that Severus could have possibly have given me the poem as a prank. He’s not a pranky sort of person.”

That’s what I thought too, he thought to himself.

James managed to keep his control over his temper and even cheered up as he had lunch with Lily. But as soon as they departed, James’ black mood descended down upon him. He felt as if Severus made him the fool. It was not so much that he gave the poem to Lily, but Severus led him to believe that he was going to keep it, that he was going to show it to Lucius as an answer to a dare.

James Apparated home to Dinsmore and stormed into the cottage. Severus was in the part of the library that extended into the catacombs beneath Dinsmore. He was seated at a small table and reading a book by dim candlelight, hunched over its pages in a far corner of the twisting room.

“Severus!”

Severus looked up as James descended upon him. James angrily snatched the book away from Severus, slammed it shut, and tossed it to the side. “You lied to me! You said that I was supposed to write a poem for you to prove to Lucius that I could write a poem! You wanted me to make it as mushy as possible, you said you would keep it, and then you gave it to Lily!”

Severus calmly crossed his arms before himself and gazed at James with eyes that seemed to gleam with dark amusement. “But James,” he said, “I decided to give it to someone who would appreciate its true worth.”

“But you said it was bad!”

“It was horrible, yes, but my opinion matters little in the concerns of the feminine taste.”

James swept his hand through his unruly hair and slumped forward. “Did you deceive me into writing the poem so you could give it to Lily?”

Severus was silent for a moment. “Did she like it?”

“She thought it beautiful.”

“It was worth it then.”

The brothers gazed at each other for a moment, and James laughed and shook his head. “You play matchmaker with me, then I should play matchmaker with you.”

Severus smiled, but his smile was sad. “Find me a woman like Grandmother and I’ll match-make myself.”

“Lily is like Grandmother.”

The sorrow in Severus’ smile disappeared to show genuine joy. “Ah, but James, red hair hardly suits me. Besides, you would not be too happy with me if I stole her out from beneath you.”

“That’s right.” James propped his elbows up on the small table and rested his chin on his bridged fingers. “Lily and I are getting married.”

A sly look passed so quickly over Severus ‘face that James was unsure if it actually happened. “When are the dates?” Severus asked as he stood up. James glared at him suspiciously as he remembered a certain betting pool from their schooling days.

“Why?” he demanded.

“Because,” said Severus as he walked out of the catacombs, “there are invitations to write, plans to make, decorations to create, et cetera, et cetera. A wedding is a lot of work, especially since Frank will be married in six weeks and that is pushing my social life.” He stopped and glared at James over his shoulder. “And if you make one crack about how I do not have a social life, I will--”

“But Sev,” James looked at his brother with innocent wide eyes, “you don’t have a social life. The only time you ever left Dinsmore before you agreed to being Frank’s best man was during the summer before McGonagall sent out invitation letters to Muggle-born wizards and witches.”

Severus grumbled something about how he did not agree to being Frank’s best man--Frank got Sirius to blackmail him into being the best man--and hurried to Dinsmore’s main sitting room.

James and Lily wanted to get married as soon as possible. Two weeks, if that were all possible. Arguments sprang back and forth between Sirius and Severus about how James and Lily should do what they wanted and yet not make it look like they were trying to cover up hasty mistakes, such as an out-of-wedlock pregnancy.

James felt his face burn bright red upon hearing Severus mention this, but he would not be swayed. They set up a wedding date four weeks hence-on July 31st. The wedding ceremony was held at Hogwarts, which was the only place large enough to hold such a multitude of guests who could not be excluded from the Snape-Potter family marriage without being insulted.

The only one who could not come was Severus.

“I can’t. I have something important to do,” he said.

“What could be so important as to miss my wedding?”

Severus looked sadly at James and sighed. “I have to make sure the wedding isn’t ruined for you,” he said solemnly as he absently rubbed the Dark Mark through his long sleeve.

Pandora was unable to come either. A quick, one line letter read that she was too close to the truth, and though she knew that James and Lily were only getting married once, she was going to assure that their marriage would be sound and their children would come into a safe world. For her, that was more important than coming to the wedding.

Who was James to argue with that logic? Still, for all that the only other two Potter family members were not able to be there (as far as James was concerned, Severus was a Potter as much as he was a Snape), it was the second happiest day of James’ life. It was marred with only a snake-in-a-box toy from “Tom Riddle.” James did not know if it was truly from Voldemort, since a snake hitting him in the face was hardly Voldemort’s style of threatening someone.

The happiest day of his life was the birth of his son. As newborn babes went, Harry was like so many that had come before. James was allowed to hold Harry a moment before Severus whisked him away to clean blood and mucus off. In the moment that he beheld the shock of black hair and the bright green eyes so like Lily’s, James knew that his entire life had come to this.

Being a father to someone as he had never had one.

James watched Severus carry Harry, who mewled and protested in hunger, to a near-by basin. James leaned over Lily’s pillow to brush away her sweat-damp red hair. He grinned at her as she managed to crack open one bloodshot eye. “He’s beautiful, Lily,” he said with awe, “just beautiful.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Happy anniversary, honey.”

Both of Lily’s eyes shot open in that moment. “JAMES!” From the other side of the room, Severus jumped and stared as Lily somehow managed to gather enough strength to wrap her hands around James’ neck and strangle him. “I WANTED CHOCOLATES DAMMIT!”

James’ happiest day of his life was, however, marred by something even greater than a vindictive toy. It was also one of the saddest days of his life, and every time he would recall Harry’s birth, he would also remember Neville’s loss.

Severus set off at dawn to tell Frank of Harry’s birth (though James suspected he wanted to pay Frank back for catching Pandora’s favourite curtains on fire in his drunken exuberance over his son’s birth) and came back well past midnight with little Neville in his arms and dried tear streaks on his face. James was sitting in the kitchen, writing birth announcements to close friends and families, when he heard Severus enter the kitchen.

“Sev?”

Severus looked over at him. James dropped his quill in the sight of seeing his brother, whose presence had always been forceful and almost overpowering, hunched over like a miserable old man. James jumped to his feet and hurried over to Severus. “What’s the matter?”

Something whimpered and white shifted below, and James dropped his eyes to see Neville Longbottom staring up at him from the white blanket he was wrapped in. James looked up from Neville into Severus’ shattered eyes. He slowly stepped away from Severus and shook his head. “No. Don’t tell me that--that Frank and Gwenda . . . ?”

Severus sighed as he shuffled over to a kitchen table. He sank down on it and pulled Neville closer to himself. He stared down at Neville with a mingled look of horror and helplessness. “They are not dead,” he said, “but they should be.” His jaw trembled, but he managed to pull together enough dignity to not shed any more tears. “It’s the same thing as Pandora,” he said softly. “This is an attack against Mrs Longbottom, to make sure that she, too, does not fight Voldemort.”

James hissed wordlessly. Severus laughed. It was laced with hysteria, and James winced at the sound. “Voldemort said that he did not want to risk Kate Longbottom’s wrath.” Severus looked down at Neville again.

James took a step forward. “Sev, are you going to keep Neville?”

Severus laughed. “Neville belongs with his grandmother.”

“But he’s your--”

“Neville,” said Severus again, “belongs with his grandmother, not a cynical gutter rat like myself who would probably do him more harm than Kate Longbottom could.” With that, Severus laughed again, and would not stop.

James’ mind had wandered a long while ago as he listened to someone (What’s his name? Adam Joston? Daniel Fermur? No, that was the last speaker. Or was that David Furlor?) give yet another mindless, thoughtless theory as to why Voldemort was slowly gaining the better of them for all of James’ considerable luck and “quick anticipation” of Voldemort’s plans.

People did not know that James had a spy; they attributed his ability to know where to be and what to do because of an attack of Death Eaters to being Pandora Snape’s grandson. He let them believe that. The less anyone knew about Severus, the safer Severus would be.

From across the room filled with Aurors and top Ministry officials of the Defence Department, James could see Sirius fidgeting as restlessly as James felt. James sighed and crossed his ankles. That Voldemort did have a spy was not a suspicion James dismissed. He refused to think it was Severus. First of all, he knew it could not be Severus because Severus just would not betray James. Severus just wouldn’t. Second of all, while Severus gave James information, James never informed Severus of how he utilized it. They both mutually agreed that the less Severus knew, the better. James felt guilty about being so close-mouthed to his brother, but it was all for the best.

James looked around at the others and wondered how rude it would be if he fell asleep. These speakers were not helping. James believed they had to move beyond suspicions and work with what they had. Sitting around, twiddling thumbs, and arguing whether it was ethical to give Voldemort tacky nicknames during the discussion was not producing the badly needed results.

Beside him, James saw Lily playing with little Harry. Harry sat in her lap and giggled as Lily tugged at his fingers and toes and mouthed words at him. James found himself smiling fondly at the domesticate sight they made. He felt his heart swell with pride and love. Lily looked up and saw him. She smiled back and offered Harry to him. James silently accepted him. Harry looked puzzled at the sudden switch, but was almost immediately fascinated with his father’s glasses. James made a face as Harry tugged them off his face.

No one had said anything when James showed up with Lily on tow. Everyone had been told to act normal so as not to attract attention from Death Eaters. The only time James ever went anywhere without Lily and Harry was when he was off on an Auror mission. No one would think he was going on a mission if he went somewhere with his wife and young son on Easter.

As the current speaker moved down and another stepped up to take his place, Harry dropped James’ glasses to the floor. James bent over to pick them up, and that was when chaos erupted.

It happened as a scream, and then came the sound of flesh smacking against flesh, and harsh, clipped words. “Avada Kedavra.”

Lily squeaked. James heard people cry out and jump to their feet. Weight slammed against weight as snarled curses hurled through the air. Charms and hexes flew at individuals as enemies met. James blindly grabbed Lily by the front of her shirt and dragged her down behind the chairs. Someone tripped over James and kicked Harry in the chest. Harry screamed and James wrapped his arms around him. His chest ached as he pulled Harry close.

“James!” Lily grabbed James’ shirt and bunched it into a tight fist. “The Death Eaters are attacking!”

“Stay down!” James pushed her closer to the floor. Someone fell over the chairs in front of them and landed on James’ glasses. Above Harry’s screaming, James heard the glass break and he winced. He pulled his wand out. “Be prepared,” he said. “Wrap shield charms around yourself and Harry.” He held Harry out to Lily, but Harry, frightened from the loud sounds of fighting, screamed louder and clung to James.

“Where are your extra glasses?” Lily reached out to riffle through James’ pockets as he tried to look through the space between the chairs at the swirling mass of bodies.

“Lily.” James grabbed Lily’s hand and squeezed it. “I want you to take Harry and get out. I won’t let you two get hurt.” It’s my fault, he thought. I used them to make it appear as I weren’t going on a mission. I placed them in danger. “Get out of here!” He offered Harry out to Lily again.

“No!” Lily crashed against him, crushing Harry between their bodies. “Not him!” Harry screamed louder and James looked over his shoulder at the black blur that stood before him. One long blur extended forward with a long brown line before that. The brown line pointed at him.

“Crucio.” The word was drawn out in a long, soft hiss.

James felt Lily struggle to jump to her feet. He surged to his own with his back to the attackers and pushed her down. “Stay down!” The green light hit him in the centre of his shoulders. He stiffed and gasped his nerves screamed in pain. Harry cried out and James fell to his knees. Two more voices joined the first with Crucio, and two more times the green light struck him.

His arms slowly tightened around Harry. James’ entire world was centred on one thing: protect Harry. Each beat of his heart made the pain in his chest throb in time with the pain from the Crucio curses. James’ arms curled around Harry and pulled him close to his chest. Wet green eyes peered wildly over the edge of his arm at the chaos. They turned away as Harry sought refuge in his father’s arms. James fell to his knees. He dimly saw Lily scream and grab his wand out of his numbing hands. He tried to tell her not to fight, to take Harry and get away, but his mouth refused to move, and Lily leapt into the battle to attack one of the Death Eaters who held her husband under the curse. He thought he heard Severus’ name, but it was difficult to hear anything outside Harry’s screams.

Blood filled his vision.

Blood was everywhere. Rivers of blood, with his tears the course. Jonathon’s head went one way and his body went another. Oliver died on his knees. Anne was shredded to ribbons.

James’ grip on Harry tightened as he fell forward. He shielded his son--the one little innocent creature in the entire room--from the curse with his own body. Harry could not, would not, feel his pain, would not feel the bone-deep agony in his heart like James did. Not this pain. Not this blood. Not this commanding silence.

Not a word, not a sound. Crimson-turned blue eyes set in a twisted and ugly face stared at him. Not a word, not a sound.

In the end, you’ll only receive what you create, stated one of the last sentences Oliver Potter ever spoke.

“Father,” James whispered in defiance to the dark man’s command before the pain forced him down a dark spiral of madness and beyond to where nothing but shadows of the past existed.

The first thing that James became aware of after so long was how white the world was. After dwelling an eternity in a world black but for the memories of violently spilt blood, the white ceiling he found himself wordlessly staring at seemed fragile and weak to him. While the blackness was oppressive and selfish, this white was small and vulnerable. He thought he heard someone speak to him, but he could not focus on anything but the white. Slowly, the darkness came back for him.

The pain from the curse had reached a peak where James was forced to move beyond its feeling. James moved so far beyond it that he felt nothing. After he awoke, he sometimes thought he heard words, but they were blurs of sound that refused to give shape. Time passed, and James had no way of knowing how much. He moved beyond even the scope of memory, because that caused emotions, and emotions had to be felt. All James felt was a steady persistence, and even that was blunted.

A smudge of green was the only other colour, beyond red, white, and black. Every time James tried to grasp its meaning, the colours ran together and he lost the smudge. Days blurred into weeks, and he remained comatose in the hospital bed. Just when the green came into focus, he thought they might have been worried eyes. The colours faded, and James faded with them.

The blood came and went in rivers. James dimly heard crying but he moved beyond that. Nothing made sense, or even stayed long enough for him to make sense of. Only the blood, which he cried a river of.

Then he decided to focus on the blood. There were quantities of it and never seemed to stop plaguing him. Fleeting images swam in the depths, shadows of what he had once known. James leaned close to them and tried to scoop them up.

James? a voice said. The surface of the river rippled as the voice came from it. James shrank away from the voice. It had been one he no longer wanted to hear because of the bittersweet memories that went with it. James. I know you are there. James tried to run from the sound, but it refused to let him go. James? Talk to me.

Jonathan . . .

James, go back.

But Jon!

James, you must go back.

James struggled to grasp it. Jonathan’s voice overlaid another so it was not as high as it usually was. The layer of hardness gave it an unsteady feel. Another voice, weeping and so fragile that it broke into a thousand shards of sorrow, drifted from above the river of the blood.

James, you must go back.

“James, you must come back.”

Go back to your family.

“Come back to your family.”

They need you.

“We need you.”

Above this sound free-floated another. It was a child’s voice; one that uttered a word that James was never capable of speaking in his silence.

“Papa?”

White flooded over the red. James found the strength to turn his head. The blurs shifted and then he saw one little hand stretching out to him. “Papa?” James found himself reaching for the hand. A woman gasped as the little hand wrapped around one of his fingers, and a baby laughed. “Papa!”

James squinted at the sight. “Harry?” he asked. His voice was gravely from disuse. From a distance, he heard Lily cry out with relief.

“Oh, James!”

James smiled. The colours faded as he descended into the darkness once more, but this darkness was friendly and warm, not oppressive and selfish. He welcomed it, and slept without dreaming of blood once.

The doctors and nurses were very kind in helping James. The purpose for their exercises and therapy was to help James regain his senses, which had been destroyed from the onslaught of pain. Awed voices commented often of how it was amazing he had not been driven mad, as the Longbottoms had. Some people merely shrugged, attested his strength to the Snape blood, and others nodded in agreement.

This therapy worked on some levels, but each of Lily’s visits with Harry did James more help than anything else. He relearned the sweet passion of love through them. James felt that the purpose everything he did--from moving to thinking--was all for this love. Two long months passed as he flourished an hour a day with Lily and Harry, and languished in misery without them for the remaining twenty-three hours. For them he worked to become better. If he were better, then he could leave this white place and be with them forever.

Lily was quiet and gentle. Harry more than made up for the lack of noise. He laughed, squealed, and babbled wordlessly whenever he was with his father. James did not notice the shadows in Lily’s eyes, of how careful she skirted around mentions of family, either hers or James’. James never bothered to ask. His entire world was centred upon his wife and son, the only two individuals who mattered.

On some, faraway level, James distantly recalled something of an old woman whose breasts and arms were soft and gentle, and of a brittle young man with a surly wit and black eyes that held a distrust the size of the galaxy. He pushed such recollections away, not wanting to think of them. Every time he did, the vision of all-knowing blue eyes or black eyes that held a look of shattered innocence and trust filled his mind, and his chest ached severely with each thump of his heart. He was not ready for pain, not so soon after coming from the darkness. James pushed such thoughts and visions away.

After two months, Sirius came for the first time. He and James greeted each other as long-lost brothers. There was a great deal of laughter, slapping each other on the back, hugs from everyone, and remarks of good health. From where she sat on James’ hospital bed, Lily watched with a bright smile. Little Harry passed from mother to father to godfather and back to father again. Harry giggled and clung to James.

“Oh boy!” Sirius looked James over appreciatively. “Boy you look good! I can’t tell you how much better I feel seeing you like this!” He paused a moment as he watched James play with Harry’s fingers. He shook his head, as if in disbelief that his friend was doing better against all odds. “Oh, James, if only you know how worried we all were. So how’s it coming?”

James grinned at him. “I’m doing great,” he said. “The doctors said if my progress keeps up, I could leave within another month.”

Sirius clapped his hands twice and then covered his mouth. His eyes twinkled merrily at James. “The bastard could put you down, but he couldn’t keep you down!”

James, thinking Sirius meant Voldemort, nodded his head in agreement.

Sirius’ cheerfulness wilted somewhat under the strain of suppressed anger. “At least he got his just desserts for attacking you,” he muttered darkly. James looked at Lily in puzzlement. She had gone sheet-white. She mouthed the word no at Sirius. James looked back at Sirius, who wore an expression of guilt.

He frowned. “What do you mean?” He had not heard of Voldemort being stopped or successfully harmed in an attack.

“Nothing.”

James stood up. “No, what did you mean. Y-you weren’t talking about Voldemort, were you?”

Sirius and Lily exchanged looks. James felt a warning bell go off in his mind. He carefully sat Harry on the floor. Harry twisted around and looked accusingly at his father. He reached his arms out to James, wanting to be picked up, but James ignored him. “Who were you talking about?”

A name nudged at his memory, but he pushed it away. James looked from Lily’s panic-stricken face to Sirius’ guilt-ridden expression. The name clambered for attention, and went so far as to snarl at him in a familiar manner he could not ignore. “Severus,” said James softly. Both Lily and Sirius winced. James’ heart shuddered as a wave of pain swept through him. He pressed a hand over it and stared as his wife and best friend. “Why hasn’t Sev been here to see me? What happened to him?”

Lily stood up. “James.” Something in her voice pleaded to him to drop the subject. James struggled to think against the pain in his chest. She said something, but he could not hear it. His senses were already beginning to quit once more under the pain. He forced himself to speak, to annunciate each word clearly.

“What happened to Severus?” He looked directly at Sirius. “Where is m-my brother?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

James’ hand shot out, too fast and too sudden for anyone to know it until Sirius realized that James had grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him close. “Where is m-my brother?”

Sirius sighed and shrugged. “James, he betrayed us.” He calmly untangled James’ hand from where it had fisted the material of his shirt. James forced himself to watch Sirius’ lips. He read them more than heard Sirius’ words. “He sold out to Voldemort, told him of what was going on, and led that attack against us. At the trial, he said he sold himself for knowledge of Dark Arts and he enjoyed what he did. He was the spy.”

“S-Sev?” James stuttered and stopped. “S-Sev is s-spy.” My spy! He silently screamed in frustration. He sold himself to Voldemort for knowledge of what Voldemort did! He was my spy! “What -h-h-h-happ . . . pen . . .” James stopped and wanted to weep. He swayed unsteadily on his feet and Sirius reached out to steady him.

James whirled around and stumbled on legs that had lost their strength. He felt Lily’s hands grab at his shoulders and he shrugged them away as bitter memories flooded back, Severus being apart of each one.

Severus was usually tired and drained of strength. Severus’ eyes were filled with suppressed tears and guilt for what he did, but never once did he complain. Severus laughed hysterically on the eve of the Longbottoms’ attack.

Lily grabbed him and pulled him around. “James, listen.” James squinted at her. He heard the faraway sound of her voice. It was clear, but faint. “Only those at the trial know he’s Voldemort’s spy. Words never spread anywhere else, and we don’t like to talk about it in places that are filled with people, like hospitals. We think it’s for the best, since it would break Grandmother’s heart to know what happened. Let it be, please. We’ll talk more about it when you are better.”

James saw past her worried green eyes. Beyond them were black eyes that pleaded for his trust. James pulled away from her and ran away to escape the black eyes he had disappointed. He Apparated wildly to Dinsmore. It took a moment for him to recognize the twisting library. Something shuffled into the light, and Dumbledore appeared with a book in his hand. He sighed but did not appear surprised to see James.

“Your grandmother and I used to exchange books,” Dumbledore explained wearily as he looked down at the book in his hands. “It has been a long time since she and I even spoke together.”

James took one stumbling step towards Dumbledore and stopped. “S-Sev?” he asked desperately.

Dumbledore put the book on a shelf, and withdrew another. He stared at its cover for a long time. “He was sent to Azkaban.” James squinted at Dumbledore’s lips. His hearing came in short spurts, which only helped him guess what Dumbledore was saying. The bushy beard obscured both the sight of his lips and the sound of his words.

“Why?”

Dumbledore looked over the rim of his glasses at James. “In the trial, he was asked why he became a Death Eater. He said for knowledge. He did not deny the accusation of doing so freely. When asked if he enjoyed it, he said yes.”

James shook his head in disbelief. “N-no.”

Dumbledore gazed sadly at him. “I’m sorry, James.”

“N-no. He’s s-spy.”

“I know.”

James gestured wordlessly at himself as he struggled to speak. The pain in his chest increased. “N-no. M-my spy! He’s my s-spy!”

Dumbledore dropped his book in shock. Black eyes appeared again and James desperately reached out to them in apology. Dumbledore swiftly approached James and placed his hands on James’ shoulders to steady him. James trembled from the contact and Dumbledore drew back.

“You’re freezing.” Dumbledore shrugged off the heavy winter robe he wore to protect him

The dementors did nothing to stop him. As James stumbled through the freezing-cold halls of Azkaban’s prison of ice, he felt only the need to see his brother. He searched endlessly, crying softly while he pressed one hand against his aching chest. Most of his senses were too locked up for the dementors to reach out and manipulate, and even if they were not, it was impossible to overcome someone by their worst memories when they already were. James glared at one dementor, and power flared around him, uncontrolled for a moment. The dementor shrank away from him. “I-I’m here t-to see my-my brother.” James drew himself upright. “L-lead me to Severus Snape!” The dementor regarded him a moment before nodding once and then floating away. James followed after it. He felt his strength come back slowly, and in the time it took for him to reach Severus’ cell, James had turned his pain and shock into a sword of anger which he used to lend himself strength.

He was angry at Lily for not saying a word about Severus, angry at Sirius for thinking that Severus had betrayed him, angry at himself for not thinking and inquiring after Severus earlier, but most of all, James was angry at Severus for not telling the people the truth. It was so utterly like him to let others think what they would, and it was so utterly stupid and wasteful.

When the dementor opened the door of Severus’ cell and James entered it, he was riding so high off the anger that he could not control it any longer. Severus sat beside the window and stared out of it with a slight hint of wistfulness. He turned slowly to face James. His black eyes held questions and sorrow, but were otherwise empty.

The door closed and the dementor moved on. James gritted his teeth and pulled back enough of his anger to speak civilly to Severus. “Why didn’t you tell them? Why didn't you tell them Voldemort gave you the choice of death or joining him and you joined him with the intent of becoming my spy?"

It took a long while for Severus to answer. First he stirred away from the wistfulness before awareness blossomed. "Did you tell them?" The question was soft and tempered with resignation.

James felt his anger flare. “No!” He struggled against it and even managed to lower his voice. "I came here as soon as I was aware of anything!"

Another long while passed before Severus answered. "Aware?" It sounded more like a casual statement than a question.

"I was in a coma for the first eight weeks, and the last eight were spent gaining back my senses with therapy. No one told me you were sent here to this godforsaken prison until Sirius let it slip that you had gotten your just deserts for attacking me and I forced him to explain what he meant. Everyone who knows what happened to you--and thankfully there is a damn few--thinks you were the spy telling Voldemort the Aurors’ plans, and Dumbledore told me you willingly become a Death Eater for knowledge and you enjoyed it."

James waited for Severus to say something. Severus reached a hand out to him and looked as if he struggled to say something. After a moment, Severus dropped his hand and slumped against the wall, his strength and purpose lost. James stumbled to kneel before Severus. Neither of them seemed to notice that James leaned heavily against Severus for support.

"We both know you became a Death Eater for knowledge about Voldemort's actions, and I have seen your eyes after you came from your missions.” James remembered those horrible nights when neither said a thing, the silence saying more than words could ever express. “I have seen the pain and the grief you harbour within yourself and wouldn’t share with me. I know you didn't enjoy what you did. Why’d you say you did? If you had told them otherwise, they’d have offered you a chance to exchange information and names for freedom. Why’d you allow them to imprison you here instead of explaining to them that you were my spy?"

James searched Severus’ face for any indication of what he thought. All James saw was the resignation. Gone was the defiant spark in black depths that drove ever onward in a conquest of life. "You want to stay here,” he said flatly, all anger gone when he realized how beaten Severus was. Severus smiled sadly and nodded once.

The pain in his chest grew worse. James’ vision wavered and it seemed that Severus was slipping away, away from reality and beyond his reach, to the endless darkness where spilt blood existed only. James succumbed to the pain and cried as he threw his arms around Severus, desperate to keep him near. "Oh Sev!” He buried his face in the bony hollow of Severus’ shoulder. "You were always the strong one, just like Grandmother. You may have been affected by what others did to you, but you never let it hold you back and even when I’d have sought revenge, you forgot, if not forgave, the matter. Where’s your strength now?" Come back to me! Don’t leave me!

Severus patted his arm and tried to push away from James. "Leave me be," he said. "Forget about me. All that I need is here."

James pulled away from Severus and stared at him in disbelief. He desperately searched the black eyes for something beyond the resignation. Severus weakly waved him away. He struggled to say something more again, but did not succeed. Again his purpose and strength disappeared.

James pushed him back and swept the wild, overgrown curls away from Severus’ eyes to look at him. Severus was tired. James knew that; he understood too much about being tired. "Do you have nothing left?" he asked as the pain in his heart increased, forcing more tears from him.

Severus stared back with empty eyes. Even the resignation was gone then. James flinched back from it, horrified of how alike Severus’ eyes were to Voldemort’s. After a moment, he pulled Dumbledore’s heavy winter robe off and piled them on top of Severus. "I'll be back," he promised fiercely as he secured the robes tightly around Severus’ thin shoulders. "I'm not leaving you here to rot! You’re every bit a hero as I am and you don't deserve to be here. This isn't right."

"It's not that bad," Severus said. James stared at Severus as something of cynicism appeared in the black eyes. Severus sounded desperate and small, like a child trying to excuse his bad behaviour. "There's food, and it’s not wet."

James remembered the distrusting child that Pandora had rescued from the slums. "Won't you ever move on from the past?" he asked softly as he departed from the cell. Once outside it, he asked himself what to do next.

The answer came to him immediately.

Pandora Potter.

James hurried through the halls to the Apparating grounds outside the prison. If there was one person in the world who could force Severus from the depressing and dead emotional state he had sunk into, it was Pandora. She was the only one James knew Severus to ever implicitly trust enough to do everything she told him. The only problem with that was he did not know where to find her. James stood at the Anti-Apparating border and thoughtfully chewed the inside of his bottom lip.

A sudden thought occurred to him. With strength borne from resolve, he stepped beyond the barrier and Apparated a third time.

The Mirror of Rebounds was exactly where James had seen it last. Pandora’s room was free of dust because Lily cleaned it regularly. James stared at the blue-covered lump for a long moment before a voice spoke behind him.

“What’re you up to, kid?”

James looked over his shoulder at Cousin Quigley, who nervously clutched a bottle of wine close.

“I want the Mirror of Rebounds to show me where Grandmother is.”

“Ah.” Cousin Quigley shrugged. “You don’t need the Mirror of Rebounds. I can do that for you.”

“Oh?”

Cousin Quigley grinned. “Hell, I can even take you to her.”

James took a step forward. He stared at Cousin Quigley for a moment, and then nodded. “Then do so.”

Cousin Quigley pointed. James turned around to see what he was pointing at. The blue cloth that covered the Mirror of Rebounds fell away. James looked at his reflection, which was distorted and dim. Something moved in the deeper depths of the mirror. James walked over to it to see better. Light shifted within the mirror. He reached out to touch it, and was sucked into darkness.

Grandmother? His thought rolled through the darkness. The sound and shape of it floated freely. A presence stirred against it, and suddenly James was beside Pandora as she stood before a gigantic slab of stone covered with symbols of a language long dead.

James looked around to see that they stood in a cave. The ceiling was low and the sides were cramped. Pandora was studying the symbols from the light of a smoky lantern. She slowly looked from the symbols at James. Her eyes were red-rimmed from too much reading and not enough sleep. She frowned and peered closely at James. “James?”

“Grandmother!” James threw his arms around Pandora and hugged her, excited to see her for the first time in five years. “Grandmother!” She gasped as he squeezed too tightly. He dropped his arms guiltily, and realized for the first time how fragile and old she seemed. “Grandmother?”

Pandora smiled and hugged him back, more gently this time. “It’s good to see you, James,” she said softly as she reached up to cup his face with her hands. “How did you get here?”

James shrugged. “I’m not too sure, but Cousin Quigley--”

“Wait.” Pandora dropped her hands. “Never mind. If Cousin Quigley is involved, I don’t believe I actually want to know.” She smiled at him before she turned back to reading the symbols on the wall. “Any particular reason for being here?”

James was silent for a moment. “Sev,” he said finally as he shuffled his feet.

Pandora glanced at him sharply. “Did you two get into trouble?”

James muttered something under his breath.

Pandora glared at him. “When did you pick up mumbling? I know you never got it from my household.”

James muttered a little louder.

“Speak up, James. I’m an old lady and my hearing is starting to go.”

“SeverusisinAzkabanbecauseveryonethinkshe’sVoldemort’sspy.”

“Severus is . . .” Pandora stared at James for a long while. He could practically see the cogs in her mind turning slowly to fully understand what he just said. “MY SEVERUS IS WHERE?!”

James did not have to say much to tell Pandora what had happened. He explained that Severus had been tricked into meeting Voldemort and forced into a situation of selling himself or Lily being harmed. Severus, a Snape through and through, decided to make the best of the situation with James’ help. Since the agreement between the brothers was James could not tell a single soul, when Severus was caught in the fire and sent to Azkaban after his trial, no one could tell anyone what truly happened.

James told Pandora that he had been indisposed at the time, but he did not say a single word about the attack on him or the cost of recovery. From the way she studied him with her all-knowing blue eyes, James had a feeling that she was going to wring the information out of him after the more pressing issue of Severus was resolved.

“He’s not going to stay in Azkaban,” Pandora said. She picked up her lamp and shuffled down the long, low cavern they were in. James hurried after her. He watched the way she dragged her feet and her shoulders slumped forward. He wanted to hold her close and fervently promise to take care of her, love her for all her remaining days. It was not right that Pandora should be so old and weary! She was supposed to be just ending her prime of middle life.

James followed Pandora out of the cramped cave to the tiny village of black-skinned natives. Words exchanged between her and the village shaman, but the communication was slow and inaccurate. The translation spells were unreliable at best, since each language establishes its own perceptions and focuses of life and the spells could not transcend the bounders that separated them.

“Grandmother,” said James, “won’t you be coming back?”

“No, James,” she replied. “I learned all that I could. I travelled all through the Middle East, and my travels led me here to the darker parts of Africa. I’ve learned all that I possibly could learn, and what I will have to do to Tom Riddle cannot be put off anymore.” She sighed and looked at James. “I’m old, James. Old before my time, and I grow more older and more feeble with each passing day.” The look in her eyes was anxious and fearful. “What I have learned frightens me.” She reached out to James and placed one hand on his shoulder. The other she touched his lips with. “You will have to go into hiding, James.”

The hand on his lips kept him from responding, and Pandora dropped her voice into a fierce whisper. “I’m going to have to attack Riddle, James. I will break the sanctuary he granted you, and you must be safe before that happens. I want you to take Lily and Harry, and I want you three to go into hiding under the Fidelius Charm.”

So they did. They went home to Dinsmore, and from there Pandora went directly to Azkaban to see Severus. She ran into the director of Azkaban, who had missed out on James’ visit. She listened to the director for two minutes as he told her the rules and regulations, and even began to call forth dementors to have her removed from the property. She lost her patience with him and unleashed the infamous Snape sarcasm upon the unfortunate man’s head. Upon learning that she could force him out of his job, forever blacken his work record, who exactly this eccentric old lady was, and finally coaxed with half a year’s wages, the director led her to Severus’ cell.

She spoke with him but briefly, and left then to launch a surprise campaign against the Ministry of Magic to free her adopted grandson. Due to some surprisingly dirty tactics on her part, a mini fortune spent in bribes, and the influence she still possessed over the wizarding society as a former Snape, Pandora managed to force a recall on Severus’ sentence to allow probation. She then spoke to Dumbledore to explain the situation. He agreed to hold Severus’ parole under his supervision.

Having seen to Severus’ release, Pandora sought James out and arranged matters for him to go into hiding. No news of this leaked out to the real world, but was instead only known to a few select individuals. James wanted Sirius to be his secret keeper, but both Pandora and Sirius instead desired someone who would attract very little notice from Voldemort and his lackeys.

“Peter,” said Sirius. “Let is be Peter.”

Pandora nodded. “Yes. Sirius is too obvious a choice. If he becomes the secret keeper, he will be in as much danger as you, James. Peter is hardly known by anyone and would be safe by reason of discretion and obscurity.”

With that decided, the site for the Charm was created. Pandora pulled James to the side, away from the circle where Lily and Harry waited, and said her last goodbyes.

James clung to her closely, not wanting to release the woman who had been a mother, father, and grandmother to him since his family died. She had been the world before Lily entered his life, and always did remain the once dependable force in his life.

“Oh come now.” Pandora patted his shoulder. “I’m getting old and will die soon. I may as well take Tom Riddle with me.”

“Don’t.”

“I have to, James. I’m the only one who is strong enough and yet is not important enough for the world to miss.”

“What about Harry? He’ll never know his great-grandmother.”

“Hush. We must all move on.”

“Grandmother.” James stared solemnly at Pandora. “I want you to promise me something.”

“That depends on what I have to promise.”

James nervously licked his lips. “I want you to promise me that you will try to live. That you will get away from Volde--er, Tom Riddle if you can. And if you’re hurt, I want you to go to people you know will help you get better, no matter what. Promise me.” Pandora said nothing as she looked at him. James rubbed at his eyes, which were beginning to grow moist. “Please, grandmother. Do that for Harry. And do it for Severus, since with me gone and Frank insane, he won’t have anyone now but you.”

“James--”

“Please. No matter what happens for me, do it for Harry, and for Severus.”

Pandora nodded slowly. “Very well. I promise you I will live with the best of my abilities and knowledge for Harry and Severus.”

James smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you.”

Pandora stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on James’ cheek. “Go well, my boy,” she said softly.

Almost twenty years later to the day after James lost almost his entire family to one man’s slaughter, Voldemort attacked Godric’s Hollow with the intent of repeating history. James had not wanted to return to the home where his family had died but he deemed it best; after all, who in their right mind would wish to live in the place that held such traumatic memories?

It was not the Killing Curse that stole James’ life. In the moment that Voldemort cast it, James’ entire world halted, and Time was suspended in a single moment. James’ mind blossomed, receptive finally to the Mirror of Rebounds, and his memories, from when he hid under the kitchen table to eat his stolen cookie, to sending Lily away as he distracted Voldemort, replayed all at once. All the winces of pain in his heart, each painful shudder or thump, every explosion of anguish during those twenty years came back all at once, an overload of agony. Something in his chest burst like an exploding melon from the agony.

James’ vision burst into a multitude of colours as one last thought occurred to him. And this I do know of you: James Potter, you will die of a broken heart.

Time resumed, and when the Killing Curse finally struck James, it was too late to kill him. He had already died of a broken heart.

And it was within this house where Oliver Potter, the father of James Potter and the son of Pandora Snape, laid a Blood Curse upon Voldemort. The Blood Curse was fulfilled as the blood of the blood of that which had been brutally spilled intervened to protect the most innocent of all, and thus did the legend of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, come into being.