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Did You Say That To Jasper Too, Mr. Potter?


”Help me…”

James lay upon the floor… a cold, stone floor, face down, curled about himself, holding a shattered arm, blood pouring from his nose and lip. He could barely gasp oxygen… he was shaking. “Help me,” he pleaded into darkness that surrounded him.

Lily saw him through barred doors like he was in a spotlight - one pale hoop of moonlight pooling about him as he lay there, making noises - grunts and whimpers of pain. She struggled to open the door, but it would not budge. She tried to reach through the bars, tried to grab hold of him, to pull him closer, to fix him, but she couldn’t reach and when she tried to send a healing charm to him with her wand, no magic would come out and she sobbed his name. “James! Please, James! Please be okay! Please be alright!” The bars clanged beneath her desperate shakes.

James trembled, coughed and spit blood onto the stones beneath him.

His glasses were across the cell, the lenses shattered so badly Lily doubted even magic could fix them. They lenses were opaque and looked white from all of the cracks.

“Help me,” James begged again, crying quietly.

“James I’m here. I’m here,” she whispered.

He struggled to look up, his cheek scraping across the stone, the blood smearing… and he squinted blearily at her, his entire body shaking, convulsing, as he stared… “Evans?” he choked the name.

“Yes, yes, I’m here, James. I’m here, love. I’m here to help you.”

His voice shook. “Anybody but you Evans!” he begged, “You’ll only make it worse! You’re the one that’s gotten me here in the first place - you’re a jinx! You’ll only make it worse! Please anybody else!”

Lily woke up with such a panic that she fell right out of her desk chair, where she’d been working on a paper for Slughorn’s class and she hit the carpet with a yelp of pain. “Oww,” she moaned, sitting up and rubbing her shoulder as she looked around the room. Her lamp had gone out and outside the sun was going down. Her belly growled and she realized it was probably dinner time. She pushed herself up from the carpet, still a bit dizzy from her fall, her heart still beating fast from her terrible dream.

She pulled the photo of her and James out of her pocket and she stared at his smiling face, needing to see it without the contortion of pain it had been in the dream. Lily’s fingers were tight around the edges of the photo, which was becoming battered from being carried about recently, and she said, “You’re okay, it was only a dream. He’s alright.” Her voice shook a little and she pushed the photo back into her pocket. “He’s alright.”

She put a bit of powder on her nose and went down to dinner.

James Potter was more than alright. He was talking loudly and the four Marauders were laughing and Sirius kept proposing toasts over pumpkin juice, and none of them spoke to her as she went and sat down next to Ali Prewitt. Lily kept sneaking glances down the table at James, though, as he laughed and his eyes sparkled and his lip caught on his tooth. She laughed to herself when he laughed, enjoying just seeing the happiness and joy on his face - on all their faces.

James and Sirius were setting off tiny fireworks with their wands, low enough to (hopefully) not be spotted from the staff table and Peter was clapping as the itty bitty fireworks burst colourful sprinkles of sugar over the cups of never-melting ice cream that had appeared on the table. “Should market that, they should,” muttered Frank, seeing it, “Fortescue’s would love it.”

It was after the fun and the revelries, when the other three Marauders were leaving the Great Hall and half the house table had cleared off, that Remus came over and sat across from her. The first years were still sitting at the end of the table because she and Remus were to take them to the library for an hour following dinner. Lily counted them quickly, “Where’s Edgar Odair?” she asked, realizing one was missing.




Charlus Potter had Edgar’s hand in his, leading the boy through the Ministry for Magic. Edgar looked around at all the dark wood and the gold and he thought to himself how he had never seen anything like it in all his life - all this lavish, wonderfulness was more than he could have imagined. He felt insignificant and smaller than he ever had.

“Now, Mr. Crouch is a bit of a cranky man, Edgar, he’s not a warm sort of person. Don’t let him scare you or bully you. I’m not going to leave you for even a minute, little man, okay?”

Charlus looked down at Edgar gently, his hand squeezing Edgar’s. “I won’t leave for even a second.”

“Okay,” Edgar whispered, but his voice cracked because eventually Charlus would go and Edgar would be off to the dementors… He tried not to think of it. He had never seen a dementor before, he didn’t know what they were like other than a very academic answer he had gotten from the fifth year Ravenclaw prefect that he had asked once. Not realizing it was Edgar Odair he was talking to, the Ravenclaw boy had been coldy, brutally honest about the horrible nature of the dementors, and poor Edgar was truly terrified of the thought. He hoped that he would at least get to see Jasper, even for a moment, when they made the exchange.

“Remember. Honesty.” Charlus was saying, “Mr. Crouch will be needing to hear everything in order to free Jasper.”

“Yes sir,” Edgar whispered.

They reached the office and Charlus bent down and neatened Edgar’s tie and, looking into his eyes as he dusted a tiny bit of lint and dandruff from Edgar’s shoulders. “Edgar, are you alright?” asked Charlus, concerned.

“Does it hurt?” Edgar asked.

“Does what hurt?”

“The dementors sucking out your happiness? Can you feel it?”

“Jasper will be okay once he’s free,” Charlus replied.

“No, I mean… I mean will I feel it? Will I feel it when they suck the happiness out of me when I get there?”

“What? Get where?” Charlus was confused.

“Azkaban.”

Charlus stared at the boy a moment, trying to comprehend what he meant - and it occurred to him the mistake he had made: he had never told the boy that he himself would not be taking Jasper’s place in Azkaban. “Oh no Edgar, no - you didn’t think - oh, you brave boy no. No. you’re not going to Azkaban!”

“I’m not?” Edgar’s voice trembled.

“No son, you aren’t. Bloody hell, I’m an idiot. No little one, you’re absolutely not. You are far too young to be sentenced to Azkaban.”

“Are you sure?” Edgar whimpered, “Even though I’m a dark wizard who’s - who’s killed?”

“I’m positive, Edgar. You are not a dark wizard and you won’t go to Azkaban.”

Edgar said, “Did you say that to Jasper as well, Mr. Potter?”

Charlus felt quite ill and he finished dusting Edgar off. He couldn’t very well say no - for he had told Jasper that very thing. He stood up and put his hands on Edgar’s shoulders. “Come along, little man.” And he steered him through the door into the office of Bartemius Crouch.




Wally, Oliver, Dexter, and Darcy - the four second year Gryffindor boys, sat about in the library a couple tables away from where and Remus were helping the first years with homework questions and navigating all of the books in the library. Wally stared at his textbook in silence, while the other three were discussing the assignment - a paper for Professor Binns whose lecture they had all fallen asleep during and Vivian Warshaw was refusing to share the notes from.

“This is ridiculous,” Darcy was complaining, “She’s got the notes, she should share.”

“I mean, we were in class, we should have our own notes,” Ollie ceeded.

“Her notes are probably rubbish anyway and all mucked up with little hearts about James Potter’s initials!” Dexter said.

Darcy said, “She should still share them.”

Wally was reading about the Goblins, his eyes lazily skimming the text, and he saw a paragraph about an attack by Goblins made in the mid 300s and how a castle had been destroyed and it said that the entire family with in had perished in the fire and he felt sick and shoved his book away, his mind going to Liam.

Wally felt Ollie’s hand squeeze his fingers and he looked at Oliver and swallowed back the bile that had risen up in his throat over the thought of fire. Ollie looked back - even as Dexter and Darcy were continuing to argue - and he smiled a tiny little smile of encouragement at Wally.

Wally wanted to smile back, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

He looked down at the book again and saw the story about the Goblin attack went on to say that the wizarding family attacked had long been a target - and the Goblin king had used a sneaky way to find where they were - by forcing one of the wizard’s friends to betray his whereabouts. Without that, the Goblin king would never have found the wizard’s home.

Wally stared at the words.

He looked up. “Liam’s family was attacked before this summer, weren’t they?”

The other three looked at Wally in surprise.

“I think he mentioned it once,” Ollie answered.

Wally said, “So… so him and his aunt, they were the only ones left weren’t they? Of the family? They were in hiding, the Hardings?”

Dexter said, “I s’pose.”

Wally asked, “So how did Voldemort find him?”

They stared at one another. “Dunno,” said Darcy.

“Well it’s like this wizard in our textbook, isn’t it? The one killed by the goblin king.” He jabbed his finger at the book.

“Are you reckoning somebody betrayed Liam’s family?” Ollie asked, looking up from the book with a surprised expression on his face.

“Maybe!” Wally said.

“That’s mad,” Darcy said. “They were living in a muggle flat, I mean it isn’t very hard to find people in those… The buildings have big lists of the last names in the doorway!”

“Harding isn’t an uncommon name,” Wally pointed out, “How did he know he had the Harding?”

“I don’t reckon Voldemort cares,” Darcy said, “Would’ve blown up anybody’s house

Wally rubbed his chin.




Regulus Black was sneaking back from the kitchens, where he’d spent the evening with the house elves, eating and talking, listening to them as they described to him their duties and the things they did for fun (house elves are quite chatty when they’re given the chance of being appreciated, he’d found), when he ran into none other than Maryrose.

They slammed against one another and she looked up in surprise at him. She marvelled this time at how much taller he was than he’d been the year before. “Regulus,” she said, “What’re you doing here?”

“I’ve just come from the kitchens,” he answered uncomfortably. He’d forgotten that the Hufflepuff common room was so close to the kitchens. He shifted from one foot to the other.

“Oh is that where you’ve been taking dinner?” Maryrose asked, “I was wondering how you weren’t skinny as a rail when you haven’t been at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.” She smiled sadly.

“Yeah, they stuff me pretty well in there,” Regulus answered.

“You’ve always loved house elves,” Maryrose commented, “You must really enjoy spending the time with them.”

“Yeah,” Regulus nodded.

Maryrose looked down at the floor for a long moment, unsure what else to say.

Regulus did, too.

“The weather’s been lovely,” she blurted.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Then Maryrose tentatively stepped toward him and he blinked at her as she came to a stop directly in front him him. Her hair had paled from it’s bright teal colour to a pastel blue from her nervousness. “Regulus… would you… maybe… maybe consider giving you and I another go?” she whispered.

Regulus looked into her eyes.

The medallion was cold against his chest.

“Let me be better to you,” she pleaded. “Please. I miss you, Regulus.”

His stomach tightened.

“I miss your smile and your laugh.”

Regulus’s voice was thick, “I don’t remember the last time I did either of those things, Maryrose,” he said.

She touched his cheek, her hair nearly white, like cornsilk. “I don’t remember the last time I have, either.”

He stared into her eyes.

“Perhaps we can help each other remember how,” Maryrose suggested.

Regulus felt his heart rate pick up as she brought herself up on her tiptoes… and kissed him softly… just a little thing, like she was testing him. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

Regulus said, “Maryrose, a lot’s happened.”

“I know, but I think I love you, Regulus,” she said thickly.

Regulus could barely breathe. “Love me?”

“Yes.”

Regulus said, “Why would you do that for?”

Maryrose looked confused by the question.

“I mean are you mental? I’m - I’m not the sort of person you ought to be loving, Maryrose.”

She shook her head, “You don’t get to pick the ones you love, Regulus, sometimes it just happens. And you’ve happened to me.”

He closed his eyes, afraid love sonnets might come out if he stared at her even a moment more.

She stood on tiptoes and kissed him again. Another test.

This time, he could not resist. He leaned into it and kissed her back.

The kiss lasted for several long moments before suddenly he pulled away. “No,” he said, “No - no bad idea. Bad idea. I’m sorry. I have to go.” And he turned and hurried away down the hallway.