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I Came For You


The Dark Lord was waiting, already standing up, his wand held in his long fingers as he loomed before a hearth with green fire flickering, casting eerie light about the room. Severus Snape stepped inside, carrying himself with every ounce of confidence he could muster. If either of the first years cracked… it would be his neck as well as theirs that would be on the line. One of the first year’s trainers squeaked when he walked, just a little queef, queef of a sound, but it sounded loud in the silence of the room.

The moment they were completely through, the Dark Lord waved his wand and the door slammed behind them. Liam flinched at the banging of the door. “Welcome,” Voldemort breathed and his eyes flickered over them. “Welcome my new… little… friends.” He smiled, his mouth splitting to reveal his teeth as he waved his hands, ushering them in further, urging them closer, “Yes, yes, come in, come in.” He looked at Severus Snape, and despite the eagerness to his voice and motions, Severus could see the cold anger in his eyes. “What do I owe this… unexpected… visit to, Severus?”

Severus drew a deep breath.

Time to lie.

“These boys… wish… to… enter into your service.”

Liam looked at Severus, then back to Voldemort. Wally brought his chin up, holding his jaw square, his eyes glued to the face of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort glanced between the two boys, and he seemed to nearly glide across the floor, his robes covering his feet. He walked up to Wally, and he reached out with his free hand, wrapping his long fingers ‘round Wally’s chin, holding his jaw, his fingers gripping the shape of Wally’s bone and forcing his head back, tilting his face so he was looking straight down into it. His eyes searched Wally’s.

It was not hard, Wally thought, to think constantly of how fearsome and powerful this man seemed. From the the curl of his lip and the smooth, pale complexion, the man exuded a certain horrifying charm… It was easy to see, Wally thought, how the Death Eaters had been drawn into this man’s agenda, how they could overlook all of the evil that this charismatic leader sent them into the world to do…

“Is it true, boy?” Voldemort’s voice was a hiss. “Do you wish to serve the most powerful wizard in the entire world?”

Wally tried very, very hard not to shake as he nodded, “Yes sir,” he said, following Severus Snape’s instructions.

“What is your name?”

“Wally, sir. Well… Walter. Walter Grant.”

“And are you pure?”

Severus closed his eyes. He’d forgotten to instruct them about this.

“P - pure?”

“Pure of blood.”

“I’m muggle-born, sir.”

Voldemort stared at him for a long moment.

Suddenly there was a squeal and the stare was broken as Voldemort looked away - toward Liam, who had squealed as a great, thick snake slithered toward them from the shadows. Severus glared at Liam, and Liam looked apologetic, but when the snake continued coming closer, he stumbled a couple steps back from it.

Voldemort looked over, his hand dropping from Wally’s chin, and stepped over to Liam. “Do you feel fear, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” whispered Liam.

“What was that?” Voldemort’s voice was a hiss.

“Yes, sir!” Liam said louder.

Voldemort watched as the snake slid around Liam’s ankles, slithering over his trainers and wrapping itself around the boy, hissing, lifting itself up after a few coils around the boy’s legs... Liam looked quite ready to throw up, his face pale white as a ghost.

“And you, boy? Your name?”

“Liam Harding,” he answered, his voice panicked as the snake’s coils tightened about his legs, as it slithered higher and higher, climbing up him in loops… up and up… “Pureblood, sir, I’m pureblood.”

Voldemort watched the snake twist about the boy, finally curling it’s last loop about his neck, the face hovering before Liam’s face, so close that the tongue flickered against his cheek.

Severus’s jaw tightened.

Tears poured over Liam’s cheeks.

And the Dark Lord laughed.




CRACK!

Regulus stumbled as Kreacher released his hand, kneeling into a bed of straw. There was a cry of surprise and a great squeaking voice said, “Oh who is you, who is you, coming and scaring us?!”

Regulus turned and found the elf Dobby - much bigger than he’d been when Regulus had last seen him - and in the corner, one wrist chained to the wall, was Harold Minchum.

“S-Sirius?”

The voice trembled.

Regulus turned back around to see a woman with round cheeks and crows feet about her eyes. “No... No. Sirius, honey, what are you doing here?” her voice shook.

“I’m not Sirius,” he said. “I’m Regulus. Sirius is my brother… my big brother. He’s coming, though.”

CRACK! Kreacher disappeared.

Dora Potter held her husband’s head in her lap - Charlus was asleep, his face sheen with sweat. Several scales dotted his forehead and cheeks, dark green and hard shingles that dotted his skin. Regulus could see the resemblance between Charlus Potter and his son. Charlus’s glasses were off, but the man had the same shape to his face, the same thick lashes on eyes that were set deep beneath thick brows and a wide nose… Charlus’s hair was salt-and-pepper, not as shaggy as James’s, but unruly at the moment from being unkempt, only adding to how much alike they looked.

“James is coming, too,” Regulus said.

Dora’s eyes flashed, “No,” she said, “No, no he can’t. No. Go back. Tell them no. Tell them both I said no.”

CRACK!

Lily let out a strangled sob as she staggered into the wall as Kreacher let her go. Her back pressed to the cold, dirty stone, taking deep gasping breaths of the dank, rust-flavored air. There came a coughing and she looked down and saw Charlus there in Dora Potter’s lap and her heart nearly stopped. Like Regulus, she could clearly see the resemblance between James and his father and the sight of the man looking so ill, so weak made her tremble.

“Lily Evans?” Dora asked, recognizing her.

CRACK!

Lily nodded, “Yes.”

Dora’s eyes were wary as she looked at the girl. She’d heard about what had happened over holiday, she’d dried James’s eyes several times during the night, when the poor boy had cried in his room over this girl… She could still hear his words “what’s wrong with me mum? Why doesn’t she want me?” It took a good deal to make Dora Potter dislike a person, but this girl had broken her son’s heart and so it would take a good deal to make Dora Potter like this girl.

“Are you all children coming?” Harold Minchum questioned, his voice raw from disuse, “Madness! Go back, go and get the auror Alastor Moody! Or someone else that will actually be of help in getting us out of here!”

“Moody’s on leave,” Regulus told the Minister. He turned, heading for the stair and looking up at the door at the top. “And besides, I can’t go back, none of us can go back. Once we’re here, we can’t disapparate out.”

“And more over, we will actually be of help getting you out of here!” Lily said, and with that, she sent an expertly aimed melting charm at the cuff that held Minchum’s wrist to the wall, cutting the thick metal loop off, releasing him. HIs arm fell forward and he flexed his fingers in a way he had not been able to do in sometime, the blood tingling as it rushed through veins deprived of a proper flow. He winced.

CRACK!

And there was James.

He took a second orienting to the dark, and he straightened his glasses and turned and found his parents. “Mum. Dad.” He hurried over, scrambling across the straw-strewn stone floor and grabbing onto their hands where Dora was holding Charlus’s so that all three Potters hands touched, his sandwiching both of theirs in his as he leaned close and kissed his mother’s forehead. “Mum.”

“Oh you silly, silly boy; what are you doing? Why are you here in this horrible place?” she started to cry.

“I’m saving you,” James said, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her head to his neck like she might’ve done and he stroked her hair, “It’s gonna be okay, mummy, I’m here.”

The tears poured thick over Dora Potter’s cheeks.

Lily watched, her heart swelling, as James Potter comforted his mother. It was a breath-taking sight, the way James’s gentle spirit took over, and he went from the devastated, numb mess that he’d been in Hogsmeade just moments before to a pillar of strength for her.

“They haven’t hurt you, have they?” he asked, and he held her out, looking her over carefully.

“I’m okay,” she said thickly as he ran his thumbs softly over it, brushing away the tears that fell. Her voice shook slightly. They’d used the cruciatus upon her, and it had been horrendous, but she did not want to upset him.

His eyes looked deep into hers. He could see the pain echoing in her eyes. “I won’t let them hurt you anymore, mum,” he said quietly, and he leaned their foreheads together. “I’ll protect you. And Dad.” He turned to his father, then, taking up his father’s other hand.

CRACK!

Sirius appeared at Kreacher’s side and Kreacher scampered to Regulus’s side at the stairs, grabbing Regulus’s robes and bowing in adoration.

“Mr., Mrs. P!” Sirius hurried over to them, throwing himself down in the straw and wrapping his arms around Dora as James inspected his father’s fresh scales with concern on his face. Dora petted Sirius’s head and she pressed her cheek to the top of his head as he held onto her.

“Your hair is so much longer than it was last I saw you,” Dora said, running her hand through his hair softly.

Sirius drew back and looked down at Charlus, a lump rising up in his throat. “Is he alright?”

Dora looked up at Sirius, “He needs his medication. Badly.”

As though to punctuate her statement, Charlus began to cough and James tightened his grip on his father’s hand, his eyes flashing to Charlus’s face, and Regulus reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, embroidered with his initials - R.A.B. - and handed it to James, who thanked him and carefully drew the handkerchief over his father’s mouth, wiping away a bit of spittle that had dripped out of his father’s mouth, sweeping away pus that leaked from beneath the scales on his cheeks, which would have hardened to form new scales had it been left… He swept his palm through his father’s hair, smoothing it back from his face, like his dad usually wore it, and he stared down into his eyes as Charlus blinked slowly, staring up… struggling to focus.

“Jamsie?” he breathed the name, smoke coming out of his mouth with the words, thick black plumes that curled through the air toward the ceiling.

“I’m here, dad,” he said.

“They -- got you --?” and he choked on the smoke, hacking loudly from deep in his chest.

“No, I came for you.”

Charlus stared up at his son and tears trembled on the edges of his eyes, “Thank Godric,” he said, his cheeks puffed with suppressed coughs, and he murmured, “If anyone can save us… it’ll be... you.” And he reached up, hands shaking terribly and laid his palm on the side of James’s face awkwardly. James brought his hand up to cover his father’s and he closed his eyes, feeling the pride radiating through Charlus’s fingers.

“I will, Dad. I’ll save you.”