Book Two: Snape's Memories

Chapter Five

"James Sirius Potter," Harry hissed, "What do you think you're playing at? "

James started violently. The study had been dark until Harry, who was sitting at his desk, lit his wand.

James had crept in trying to replace Harry's broom. Rather than the front door opening and shutting, Harry had heard the drawing room window slide open, and then stealthy footsteps. Harry mused that he needed to replace that ward since James must have disabled it sneaking out. It was likely that James had been sneaking out that way all summer. What was maddening was that the boy hadn't necessarily needed to sneak, but he did love to take risks.

Clearly James believed that, once again, he'd made it back without being caught.

The broom itself would have given the boy away, however. It was obvious had been through a bit of rough handling, there were missing chunks of straw and scratches on the handle that hadn't been there the night before. The boy's own appearance also was evidence of his misadventure, although no doubt he had assumed he could clean up his black eye and lacerations himself without anyone being the wiser.

"Dad! You're back...I...er- thought you and Mum were still at the...I mean..." James trailed off under his father's unusually fierce gaze.

"We do have a house elf, you know." said Harry silkily, "And I do ward my possessions. However skilled you've become at disabling the household wards, you forgot to disable the anti-theft charm. When the alarm goes off, it also says who's taken it." James stared at Harry in horror. Harry leaned forward and said, very softly, "So explain to me, what were you doing?"

Harry had had some time to sit in his study and fume after Kreacher had told him that his oldest son had "borrowed" his broom.

It would have done no good to go out and look for the boy; the broom was custom made for Harry and his work as an Auror. It was the newest 'Lightning Bolt' model, modified with spells of concealment and stealth, as well as a few other charms that Harry himself had created. It was frighteningly fast. Fast and, in the hands of an inexperienced youth, very dangerous.

Harry's heart had stopped about half a dozen times that night as he kept thinking he'd heard an owl peck at the window. Finally he'd just opened it, waiting to get the owl that James was in St. Mungo's after crashing or in Ministry custody after being seen by muggles. Or perhaps both. Now the boy had the audacity to appear relatively unscathed. Harry's paternal fear changed immediately to anger.

He took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to put the boy into a body bind curse and stick him to his bed for the remainder of the holidays.

"You could have been seen. You could have been killed." Harry stood and leaned over his desk, "What the HELL were you thinking?"

James quailed, but his chin came up a little, "I wouldn't have been seen. It's got all those..." he broke off eye contact, his brown eyes dropping to the floor, and then coming back up, "I just took it out for a little spin." he said with false bravado, "Nothing happened."

"NOTHING HAPPENED?" roared Harry, "YOU CALL THIS NOTHING?" crossing the room in two steps, he snatched the scratched broom in one hand and James' torn cloak in the other, "YOU BLOODY WELL CRASHED MY BROOM!" Harry had seen the boy arrive in the darkened courtyard, taking a header off the broom because he wasn't accustomed to it's breaking speed. It was probably not the only spill the boy had taken that night if the state of his clothes were any indication.

"N-no, it was just a tumble...Really...It'll clean right up." James paled, looking terrified.

Harry turned away, getting hold of himself. It wasn't the broom, at all, that made him so angry but the way that James was so convinced of his own immortality.