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A Hair Out of Place


Chuckie Alderwight was piloting his first flight. He had oft been the wingman but tonight, tonight he was the lead pilot. He flicked a couple switches, grinning as the aeroplane calmly flew through the skies, level and gloriously high in the air. He sat smiling at the monitors fro a moment, pleased because this was exactly it - exactly what he had always dreamed of doing one day when he was a small boy, flying imaginary plane about the room he shared with his brothers growing up - all of whom had said he’d never really be a pilot… well here he was! And how smooth a flight it was!

Suddenly… there was light in the darkness, glowing through the clouds ahead of them.

“What is that?” he murmured, squinting.

The copilot looked up at Chuckie’s wonderment.

The lights were getting brighter. Closer.

“What is it?” Chuckie wondered, his voice twisting with concern.

“There’s nothing on radar,” murmured the copilot with a glance to the screen on his dash.

Chuckie’s eyes were knit tightly.

Suddenly, through the clouds, broke a bright red car.

“What in the ---” Chuckie swore as the car flew directly at them.

Sure there would be an impact, the copilot looked away, terrified.

Chuckie had nothing to do to stop it, if the car was going to fly into them, there would be nothing to stop it from happening…

And at the last moment, the car was pulled nearly perpendicularly, and he watched in horror as the underbelly of the car only just barely avoided slamming against the glass.

“Bloody hell!” he gasped.




“Bloody hell!” Lily gasped, her hands shaking.

“Wait until James hears what we’ve done to rescue him!” Sirius crowed as he pressed his face against the back window of the Morris Mini, kneeling on the seat, trying to peer back at the disappearing blinking lights of the aero plane. “Merlin’s left tit, he’s going to be so jealous he wasn’t in on this rescue!”

“Something tells me that the coolness of the rescue has nothing to do with why he’d rather be doing this with us than what he’s doing,” Regulus said darkly. He was in the front seat, pressed to the window, looking out through the wispy clouds below to twinkling lights in the far distance. He glanced over his shoulder at Lily Evans, gripping the wheel and staring straight ahead with a very serious, very somber look to her face, deeply shaken by the brush with the aeroplane.

In the back seat, Maryrose said, “Poor James.” She sounded upset.

Regulus reminded himself that Maryrose had chosen him.

“I know that,” Sirius said, answering Regulus, “I bloody know that.” He paused, feeling his stomach churn. “I’d rather he be doing the rescusing rather than being the rescuee, too, of course.” Sirius looked down at his knees.

Remus touched Sirius’s shoulder and said, gently, “It is a pretty cool rescue -- as far as rescue tales go.” He hated how guilt-riddled looked.

“How far is it?” Lily asked, her voice shook, “To Durmstrang?”

“Really far,” Regulus replied anxiously.

“Does flying a motorcar take gasoline, like driving it would do?” Lily asked, nervously looking at the gauge.

“The motorbike doesn’t seem to,” Sirius guessed.

“Powered by magic,” Remus answered knowledgeably.

Lily gripped the wheel. “I’m so worried about him.”

“We all are,” Remus said.

Maryrose reached over the seat and patted Lily reassuringly.




It was over an hour later.

Regulus watched his wand balancing on the dashboard, trembling as it enacted the navigation charm that Flitwick had taught them back in October. Point Me made the wand act as the dial of a compass so that it always pointed to true North when laid upon a flat surface. It was by this that they were steadily keeping their path on a north-north-easternly route, quickly cutting out over the North Sea, ratther than sticking to flying over land, to avoid being seen by Muggles.

“So. Durmstrang,” said Maryrose into the dark of the Morris Mini.

Sirius looked up. He’d rested his cheek against Remus’s shoulder.

“What about it?” Remus asked.

“Nothing really, just… we’re on our way to Durmstrang. It ought to be quite interesting visiting another school.” She paused, then, “Of course, I don’t mean visiting...”

Sirius turned his face against Remus again, smushing his nose against Remus Lupin’s shoulder, and clutched his fingers into the folds of the layers of jumpers. “Rescuing,” he murmured, “We’re rescuing.”

Remus patted Sirius’s back. “It’ll be interesting seeing the place at any rate. Few people have.” He rested his chin on Sirius’s head. “Loads of wizarding history there. I read this book once that talked about the comparisons of the different wizarding schools and ---”

“I’ll fucking tear it brick by brick and throw it into the bleeding sea if a hair on James’s head is out of place,” Sirius said lowly, darkly, angrily.

There was silence that filled the Morris Mini for some time as they let the words sink into them, their nerves tensing at the thought of the rage of Sirius Black because not a single one of them dared to doubt him for even a moment. Durmstrang might be thousands of years old, but it didn’t stand a chance against him.

Then:

“But how will you tell?” asked Regulus, looking up from his wand.

“How will I tell what?” Sirius turned his head against Remus’s chest to look at his brother.

“If there’s a hair out of place?” Regulus asked, “It’s James Potter. They’re always out of place.” And he mimed sweeping his hand through his hair the way James did all of the time.

In spite of themselves, everyone in the car laughed.




Another couple of hours had passed when Regulus winced as another, particularly terrible pang of pain went up his arm from the Mark and he let out a small whimper and clenched his teeth.

Sirius glanced at his brother, lifting his had from Remus’s chest - Remus was asleep. “Reg?” he asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” Regulus answered between his clamped jaw.

Sirius frowned.

Maryrose asked, “Are you?”

Regulus nodded.

Sirius was still staring at his brother - a look a mixture of concern and disgust on his face.

Lily glanced over - she’d been staring straight ahead, hands on the wheel of the Morris Mini, the entire time, as though she were really driving, as though there was a road to watch, and not just endless miles and miles of foggy white cloud. “What’s the matter?”

Regulus hesitated.

Lily raised her eyebrow.

“My Mark is burning,” Regulus said finally, quietly.

Sirius turned and pressed his face into sleeping Remus, who stirred but didn’t wake, and tried quite hard to go on denying he had any knowledge about Regulus’s arm that he always kept covered. Lying, he told himself, He’s lying, he doesn’t have the Mark, he can’t have the Mark, he’s my little brother…

“He’s summoning me,” Regulus added. He rolled his sleeve up to show Lily how the Dark Mark had blazoned darkest blood red against his skin, so intensely that there seemed to be some sort of pus seeming from the edges of the design. He winced again - this time at how disgusting the thing looked, and he quickly covered it back up with his sleeve.

Lily stared at the spot on his knee where he’d rested his wrist to pull up the sleeve to show her for a long moment. She wasn’t sure how she felt, riding through the darkness, following the directions of what she now knew to be a Death Eater… Suddenly the thought of flying across the sea to Merlin knew what… at the command of a Death Eater... seemed quite reckless, and she felt suddenly rather sick in her stomach.

But somewhere, James Potter’s precious seconds were burning off, like a candle being burned from both ends of the wick, the flames coming ever closer to meeting in the middle...




The Boggart of Severus Snape - which was still in it’s form as a lovesick Lily Evans - disappeared the second the door burst open and Voldemort waved his wand at it, destroying the Boggart in one go, with a harsh spell of some sort. Severus closed his eyes, both thankful and heart broken that the image of Lily was gone.

“Where is Regulus Black?” Voldemort roared as he crossed the stone room to where Severus stood. “WHERE IS HE?”

“How should I know?” Severus asked, keeping his voice level and as smooth as possible.

Voldemort hissed. “He resists answering the burning of the Dark Mark.”

Severus instinctively looked at his arm, trying to imagine withstanding the feeling of the burning when the Dark Lord called. Especially when the Dark Lord was in as dark a temper as he seemed to be at this moment. The burning must be utterly horrifying.

How was Regulus resisting it?