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Rewriting The Past


James listened as Rudolphus went downstairs and he crept closer to the rungs of the stairs to watch his progres so he would know when he would need to go down to save Maryrose. Rudolphus was nearly to the library door when the bedroom door marked R.A.B. opened again and Walburga came out. From inside the door, he could hear the screaming anger coming from within as Voldemort threw an absolute temper tantrum. James froze, his eyes wide, as Walburga pulled the door closed behind her, sighed heavily - as though very tired, and turned to come up the stairs, a determined grit to her teeth.

James had no where to hide. He panicked - he couldn’t be seen, couldn’t let her catch him -- and he quickly reached in his pockets, found a thick gold galleon, and chucked it through the rails. The coin fell heavily through the dark - straight down. Hit something, hit something - make a sound, he begged it silently as Walburga began climbing the stairs… She was nearly to the landing, from which she would be able to see him.

Cling!

The coin had hit a large troll’s foot umbrella stand at the base of the stairs and the sound echoed up the stairs - loud because of the silence that filled the house.

Walburga turned and looked over the rungs, down into the dark far below.

“I finks I’ve found her,” came an evil cackle from below and Walburga turned and walked down the stairs hurriedly, headed to help Rudolphus as he laughed and bent at the door of the library, pressing his ear to the door.

James heard the library door creak open, and Rudolphus’s voice was low, “She was here… tried to use the Floo network. Look at that…”

“I had that disconnected after the incident last year…” Walburga said imperially, her voice fading as she walked into the room.

This was it. James’s opportunity had come. He got up and, still hearing the curses and explosions from within Regulus’s room, he started down the stairs - but they were creaking terribly and he stopped after just a couple steps. He was sure to be heard - even over the racket the Dark Lord was making. He drew his wand, “Glisseo,” he whispered.

It was a spell that he and Sirius had used loads of times as pranks on unsuspecting school mates on the moving staircase for a chuckle. The staircase went smooth, like a slide, and James fell onto his bum and slid down, catching the rungs when he got close to the library door. “Finite incantantum!” he said and the stairs jutted back to their regular shape. He stood up and slid across the step and pressed his back to the wall closest to the library door.

“Got’cha! You bleedin’ little blighter! Dark Lord’s lookin’ fer you!” Rudolphus’s voice came through into the hallway as Walburga opened the door, and came out, heading immediately up the stairs, not even seeing James standing there.

His fingers tightened ‘round his wand.

“Putmedown! Putmedown! Putmedown! Putmedown!” Maryrose’s voice echoed through the stairwell, her feet striking Rudolphus’s shins loudly, and he roared in frustration and aggrevation.

“Best shut yer damned mouth, you little brat, or I’ll twist yer bleedin’ little neck so hard yer head’ll pop off yer shoulders!” Rudolphus growled.

Rudolphus dragged Maryrose - who now looked like Lucy Minchum in the baggy school clothes - through the door and several things happened all at once.

First, Walburga turned around to reprimand Regulus for scaring the child - and saw James.

Second, Rudolphus made to shake Maryrose-Lucy - and saw James.

Third, Maryrose was, swung about and her legs kicked out and she caught James in the shoulder, and she blinked in surprise that her foot had hit something - and saw James.

All three faces lit up at exactly the same instant with recognition as Walburga gasped. The best was Maryrose’s wide eyed surprise. “James!” she said, “What’re you - how did you - how --? What?”

Rudolphus looked hungrily at him. “You.”

“Hullo,” James said, grinning.

Before any of them could do much else, he waved his wand. “Glisseo!” and the stairs went flat into a chute once again, dropping the floor beneath Rudolphus and Walburga both. James grabbed onto the railing and reached out a hand and grabbed onto Maryrose’s arm - for in his surprise in the flattening of the staircase, Rulophus’s arms had loosed up from her frame and James pulled her away as the two Death Eaters slid past them down the stairs, Rudolphus kicking against the wall, trying to catch himself.

“Alright, Maryrose?” James asked, holding her against him, and she stared up at him with wide eyes.

“But you’re in there,” she said pointing at the door. Her disguise was fading off to her own teal hair and bright eyes, her nose morphing back to the little button nose that was distinctly hers.

James smiled and he said, “You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice, Maryrose.”

“What? Are you mad? How are you -- what’re you -- James, can you disapparate? Where’s Lucy Minchum? And… what in hell are you wearing? You look like a waiter at a fancy restaurant!”

James snorted, “Sirius says I give him a hard on.”

“Sirius Black is such a dog,” she laughed and her face flushed at the rude words.

James laughed, “He really is.” He waved his wand, “Finite incantantum!” the stairs went back to their usual shape and James swept Maryrose’s hand into his own. “Let’s get you out of here.” And he hurried down the stairs, tugging her along behind him, wand before him, aimed to the bottom of the stairs, where Rudolphus and Walburga were struggling to get up, their arms flailing about, trying to catch their balance. “Stupefy,” he declared, aiming his wand at Walburga, and she was stunned. Rudolphus leaped to his feet and raised his wand and James laughed, “Maryrose, watch this! Anaticula!”

He beamed as Rudolphus jabbed his wand at the pair of them, “Incarcerus!”

But instead of ropes, out came a duck and Maryrose’s eyes widened - and she laughed, “James.”

“Any spell you like - makes it a duck.” He grinned, the happiest he’d felt in sometime - a horrible weight had been lifted off his chest. Seeing her face, flush with colour and her eyes sparkling, her body warm and alive… He could’ve taken on Voldemort himself on those stairs at that moment, and James winked at her, and turned, brandishing his wand to send Rudolphus falling back across the hall, slamming him into the wall and he felt, scrambling to get back up yet again, angrily shouting curses, with duck after duck coming from his wand, just as he’d done the first time James had fought him in this hall.

“What about the Minchum girl?” Maryrose asked, confused, seeing they were going for the door.

“I’ve - er - already taken care of it,” James said with a chuckle, remembering the looks on people’s faces in the department store when a stag, bedazzled with purses hanging from his antlers, had plowed up and down the escalator. He swept her along, shooting spells behind him as he shielded her along down the hallway and out the front door.

“How? It was only moments --”

“I promise, Maryrose, I’ve got this all worked out. Come on. We’ve just got to get you away safely. That’s all I need right now. You safe.”

She looked back with concern over her shoulder, but all there was to see was ducks flying through the air, the house already gone from sight, and he wrapped his arm ‘round her shoulders, steering her the opposite direction from where he would run as a stag - not wanting to cross their paths with his own. “C’mon, we’ll catch the Knight Bus ‘round the corner up here.”

And they did.

They did and the Bus took them all the way to Hogsmeade and James merrily pulled Maryrose along through the streets to the gates of the castle, where he stared up at the Headmaster’s window far above and he drew his wand. “Expecto patronum,” he announced.

“What does that spell d--ooooh!” Maryrose stared at the pearly white, smokey stag that erupted from his wand, a smile on her face, “He’s beautiful,” she whispered.

He turned to the stag, “Erm. I dunno how this works, stag, but… uh… could you maybe go tell Dumbledore or somebody we’re here?” he requested, and the stag cantered off across the dark grounds of the castle.

They watched the stag go, and she asked, “Oh James, where did you learn to do that?”

“Patronus class. The Prewett brothers are --” he paused. Then, “From a textbook.”

Maryrose looked at him funny.

“I’ll show you sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

James couldn’t tear his eyes from her, couldn’t stop marvelling over her. He’d had the terrible memory of her cold and still, laying on the couch in the Shrieking Shack burned into his memory for months, and every time her name had been said, it was that Maryrose that had come to mind, rather than this one - with bright happy eyes and a playful smile upon her mouth. “Godric. I can’t get over it. You’re here, and you’re alright.” He had funny tears in his eyes, clouding his vision up, and he smiled, his lips trembling, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Maryrose laughed, “Where else would I be?”

James shook his head, “I dunno, Maryrose. But you’re here and that’s - that’s marvelous.”

She brought a palm up to cup his cheek and she smiled, “You’re such a nutter,” she said fondly.

James couldn’t wait to see the look on Regulus’s face when he saw her - how relieved and happy he would be to see her again, how joyous that reunion would be! After months of mourning for her - of staring at the Dark Mark and remembering and ----

But then, Regulus wouldn’t know he’d ever been mourning her, would he?

But he also wouldn’t have the Dark Mark, either, James realized.

Regulus Black would never know the horror of having lost Maryrose Jenkins. There would be no finding him, confunded and sitting in wet beach sand by the cavern, would there?

So many broken things were being healed, James marvelled at the brilliance that was this time-turner thing. Getting to go back and rewrite history, to do it right the second time about… He wondered how far back a thing like this could go - how many horrible mistakes had the human race made that he, James, could correct? How many lives had been lost - how many muggle borns had suffered? Bloody hell, he could save Lily’s father! Just a few more twists of the knob… just a little further back…

For that matter, he could save Lyall Lupin. He could stop Mopsus from killing him - from killing any of the people he’d killed! There was Maggie Pettigrew to save, too. He could stop Orion Black from killing Tizzy, could save the little elf from that senseless death… and Derek Bell! Alice Bell, too! All the Bells. He could save Hope Lupin. Give Remus back his mum and his dad both…

There was so much that he could do.

He could save the bloody world.

“James? Are you alright?” Maryrose asked.

“Yeah - yeah I’m alright,” he said, his face was flush with excitement.

“You sure? You’re looking sort of funny.”

“I’m better than okay,” he replied, and he wanted to tell her of his brilliant plan to save everyone with this shiny golden trinket, to prevent the horrible things that had riddled the world for centuries. It would be brilliant - a peaceful life, a good life, a safe life. A life in which there was no division between pureblood and muggle-born, where they all were happy, where good things only came to pass…

James’s ego was exploding.

And there came Hagrid across the grounds, his keys jangling at his hip as he ran down the path to the gates, “I’ve come quick as I could!” he announced, and he fixed the locks with his keys, turning them opened and letting the two in. “How did’yeh get out there a’yways?” he asked, “After curfew fer the grounds, yeh lot dunno what’s out in them woods after dark…” Hagrid had his crossbow slung across his back and he jostled the weapon as though to remind them he was serious about that.

“It’s a long story, Hagrid,” James replied, “But for another time. Right now, we gotta get to Dumbledore.”

Hagrid of course was more than happy to accommodate them, and he insisted that they have an escort, and so he led them across the grounds, the rambunctious three headed dog scrambling along at his heel, snapping at the leather strap of Hagrid’s huge coat, which swung as he walked. At the castle, they went up to the Headmaster’s office quickly (though James ducked past the Transfiguration floor quickly, remembering it had been McGonagall who had found him first in the past…

And when they go to the gargoyles, they told the stone creatures and they stepped aside, leaving a gap in between them, through which they could see the staircase that carried them - like escalators - all the way up through the tower, up-up-up to the Headmaster’s office. James held Maryrose’s hands in his as he bound along up the stairs, and along came Hagrid, bumbling after, seeing to it that they made it safely. “Thanks Hagrid,” James said, when they reached the landing to see Dumbledore’s wellingtons and umbrella against the wall and he felt his heart swell, pleased at how marvelously this whole operation had gone.

He pushed open the door to the Headmaster’s room.

And there at the desk was Dumbledore, looking up from his papers again as he’d done before sending James off with the portkey to Number 12 Grimmauld Place and he looked surprised. “James Potter,” he said.

“Yes,” James replied.

“Good evening Miss. Jenkins,” Dumbledore nodded at Maryrose.

She smiled, “Good evening, Headmaster,” she answered.

James looked at Dumbledore, “You said to come to you,” he said, “That you’d know how to… to get me back where I belong.” He was eager, now that he’d seem to it that Maryrose was back to the castle, to see Sirius. For the same way that Maryrose’s cold, dead body had been haunting his mind every time he’d thought of her since she’d died, he now could not picture Sirius Black’s smiling face - he could not picture his mate’s laugh. All he could see was those eyes - those grey eyes searching his, silently saying goodbye, and the moment when the light went out of them - silhouetted by green as they f’d fallen… and the vacant, unseeing stare they’d held as he fought against the Minister’s grip.

He needed to get back to see his friend alive and well and whole.

“Please, sir,” James said, feeling that if he thought about Sirius Black being dead even a moment more he’d die himself.

Dumbledore nodded, then turned to Maryrose, “Miss Jenkins, go and clean up for dinner - Mr. Potter will see you later.” As he spoke, he waved his palm in adieu and Maryrose looked at James with a questioning stare.

“What about the Minchum girl?” she asked. “Where is she?”

“She is in the hospital wing,” Dumbledore replied. “Thanks to the heroics of our own Mr. Potter.”

“But - he was with me.” Maryrose looked confused.

Dumbledore smiled. “Such is the nature of heroics that one cannot reveal how it is he has done what he has done, but suffice it to say that a great deal of courage has been invested in seeing to it that you and Lucy Minchum are both returned safely to your places.”

Maryrose looked at him. “You better explain this to me later.”

James’s lips twitched, “I doubt very much whether I shall be able to.”

She turned and, glancing back with an odd, confused expression, Maryrose ducked out of the office and closed the door behind her.

Dumbledore turned to James and looked him over a few moments. “How far have you come, my boy? You look older.”

James replied, “Only a few months. 24 April, sir. But a lot’s happened.”

“I see you’ve dressed up for the occasion.” Dumbledore’s eyes swept over the vest, the trousers - both of which were a bit dirty at this point from everything, but still fitted James’s form and, despite the dirt and wrinkling, still looked rather nice.

“I was supposed to be on a date, sir,” James replied.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes flickering to the office door where Maryrose had just gone and then back to James with a raised eyebrow, questioning.

“No sir,” James said. “In my own present - or past? - that was quite… impossible. Which is part of why I’m here…”

The smile faltered on Dumbledore’s face.

“It was Lily Evans, sir,” James said.

Dumbledore had an unreadable expression on his face, “Well, we wouldn’t want you to be missing your date, would we?” And he stood up and came ‘round to stand before James.

“It was already missed, sir,” James replied. He looked down, the memory of sitting there at that table in the Three Broomsticks still sore. Then he turned back to Dumbledore, “Honestly sir, I’m much more excited to go back and see Sirius… after all that’s happened.”

Dumbledore looked concerned.

“Please,” James added.

“Very well.” Dumbledore lifted the time turner from it’s chain about James’s neck. “The number of turns you made to arrive is what you must make to return - though in reverse - clockwise, this time. And take one off the number of days you turned, that should do it.”

“Alright.” James took a deep breath and he took the time turner back into his hands.

“Mr. Potter.”

“Yes sir?”

“Tell no one of what you’ve done here. Especially whatever it is you have changed.”

James nodded, “Yes sir.”

“Go, you brave boy.”

And James began to turn the knobs.