13- Something Wicked this Way Comes

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Chapter Thirteen – Something Wicked this Way Comes

Tuesday 3rd of November, 1981

The Longbottoms’, Exeter (2:51 AM)

Frank waited in the hall for his intruder alarm to go off. It would be soon, hopefully. He couldn’t stand the waiting around, waiting for someone to attack. Although he could be dead by the end of the night, along with Alice, he couldn’t bear the wait, the what-ifs. He wanted to know when they would arrive, as opposed to waiting, as the seconds stretched to minutes, and the minutes stretched to hours. He wanted to know.

The wait was always the hardest part.

Alice was at the back of the house, and Neville was away, safe, with his mother. Both of them – Neville and Augusta – were safe. And whilst he and Alice were not, that was a different matter. They were both aurors, both used to danger, both able to get out of a tricky situation. He still worried for Alice, though. He’d lay down his life for her. And he didn’t doubt she’d do the same, but he didn’t want her to. He didn’t want to live without her.

It was nothing short of a miracle that they’d been warned – after all, James and Lily hadn’t been. But that had all worked out well. Well, Frank reflected, not that well. James and Lily were god knows where - in hiding, though. Frank had received a note from  Dumbledore the day after Halloween telling him to not mention the truth to anyone – even Remus and Sirius did not know that the Potters were, in fact, still alive. Frank had told Alice of course, when he returned home on the 31st of October. After that the pair had stayed in, watching the whole thing unfold. How Sirius, mad with grief had killed Peter, and twelve innocent muggles. Frank could barely believe it. He knew Sirius had a violent streak, and that when he was wound up, he had no common sense. He could see Sirius killing Peter. God knows he deserves it, Frank had thought, and then felt guilt. Did he really have the right to decide whether someone deserved to live or die? He’d pushed away the thought.

But the thing that really shocked Frank was the other, twelve, innocent muggles. They certainly did not deserve to die. And Sirius seemed to kill them without a second thought. When the ministry wizards arrive, he was laughing. Like a madman. Frank struggled to wrap his head around it. He’d received confidential knowledge – from an colleague, who was stupid enough to put it in a letter – that Sirius was the one who’d betrayed Lily and James. Now, Frank knew that was not the case, but the only people who knew directly could not say and testify for Sirius. James and Lily – supposedly dead. Himself and Alice – could not explain how they knew. And Dumbledore – well, he had had no idea that James had swapped secret keeper until the other night. Only Veritaserum would help Sirius now, and the only place that he could get that was at a trial. And since the trial was unlikely to happen – Barty Crouch would not have a trial for something that there was plenty incriminating evidence against – it looked like Sirius would never make it out of Azkaban.

Suddenly a siren-like wail went off. It rang for just over a second and then stopped. Frank stood up straight, his wife mirroring his actions at the back of the house. They were here. But they were ready for them.

* * *

The Forest of Dean

James lay on the grass, staring at the stars. They were the brightest he’d ever seen them, but they didn’t brighten his mood. The war was over, and the stars were reflecting the attitude of the wizards of Great Britain. Well, almost all of them. The war was over, but James had never been so depressed before. He had lost his son – not physically, as Harry was still alive, but since he didn’t know when he’d be able to see him again, it was almost as bad. Especially as he knew Harry wouldn’t exactly be happy. He’d think his parents were dead, and he’d have to live with the Dursleys. James sincerely hoped they’d changed, that they’d treat Harry like a son, but he knew it wasn’t very likely. Besides, it was wrong. He and Lily should be caring for Harry, seeing him grow up, see the first glimpses of his magic, let him know what he was, teach him about quidditch, teach him to be a marauder. Even if it was Sirius or Remus doing these things, it still wouldn’t be quite right. It should be them.

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