The Corpse That Lived.

Chapter 29

James was tired, he couldn't wait till the girls returned from Hogwarts. He sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, a thin parchment spread open before him, Hyacinth's handwriting sharp and hurried.

They're picking on her, the letter said. They keep whispering about her and throwing insults at Dahlia, some have even starting shoving her. 

James closed his eyes. Of course they were. Dahlia will always draw attention, the same way a flame drew moths. A brilliant child who had defeated the Dark Lord and then vanished from the world. Now she was back, walking the halls of Hogwarts like a living legend and everyone, children and teachers alike, wanted a piece of her story. They wanted explanations, secrets, reassurance. They wanted to look at her and understand how someone so small had survived what so many hadn't.

James exhaled slowly through his nose. He'd known this would happen. He'd known Hogwarts would never let her simply be.

"I'll have to write Dumbledore," he muttered to the empty room, the words heavy with resignation. Albus would listen, James had a lot of trust in the headmaster but James hated that it had come to this so quickly and that Dahlia's peace was already fraying.

The floorboard creaked behind him.

"James?"

Lily stood in the doorway, pulled from sleep, barefoot, hair loose down her shoulders, a crease between her brows already forming. James felt a flicker of relief at seeing her. Whatever was coming, he didn't have to face it alone.

He crossed the room and kissed her quickly, more habit than indulgence.

"James," she said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing urgent," he said, even though they both knew better. "Go back to bed."

She stepped past him instead, reaching for the parchment on the table. "You're terrible at pretending everything's fine."

James watched her read, watched understanding harden into concern.

"They're picking on Dahlia," Lily said.

He nodded. "Hyacinth warned me it might happen. I hoped it wouldn't start this soon." His jaw tightened. "She's a child. She shouldn't be dealing with this."

Lily looked up at him, sharp and steady.

"I'll write Dumbledore," James said. "He needs to know."

"He will listen," Lily said.

James leaned against the table, exhaling slowly. Lily had always been like this, smart and direct. He'd been smart enough to marry her, smarter still to build a life with her. 

When he was nineteen, he was so scared she'd leave him, the war put a strain on their relationship which is why he constantly asked and pressured her to have children. Lily said she was only have children in the context of a marriage so he proposed. He never regrets having Hyacinth and Dahlia but he shouldn't have pressured her. He was a dumb teen.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he admitted softly.

"I know." Lily folded the letter with careful precision and looked at James over its edge.

Her eyes narrowed. "You," she said calmly, "still haven't made it up to me for what you did when we found Dahlia."

James winced on instinct, rubbing the back of his neck. "I maintain I was operating under extreme emotional distress."

"That is not a defence," Lily replied, though there was a spark of amusement behind it.

He stepped closer, softer now, voice turning coaxing. "Well, things are... different now." A grin tugged at his mouth. "Hyacinth and Dahlia are both at Hogwarts. House is quiet. Too quiet, honestly."