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Like a Puzzle Piece


Ace Dante’s motorbike reappeared in his carpark between the time that he’d called the police and when they arrived to investigate the missing vehicle. “I swear,” Ace Dante said, “It wasn’t there before!”

The police officer nodded as he gave Ace a pat on the back, “Right, because motorbikes often wander away. P’haps you should get it a leash!” And they got in their cars and drove off, leaving a stunned and horribly confused Ace standing in his carpark, scratching his head, and wondering what had happened.

Ace Dante was utterly befuddled, and finally went inside, muttering to himself about needing to get better sleep, and maybe drinking a little less...

James couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he sat on the steps of the church across the street. He clutched his stomach and curled up ‘round his knees and looked up at Dumbledore. “Brilliant, sir.”

Dumbledore smiled and winked at James. “And now, the two of us need to go relax your poor, dear mother.”

“As long as you’re there so she won’t transfigure me into a toad or something,” James answered.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Not that you wouldn’t deserve it.”

James led Dumbledore the long way ‘round the path, not wanting to get in even more trouble with Dora for cutting through the woods again. Besides, Dumbledore being old as he was, James wasn’t sure what his feelings about tromping along through the tundra would be. So they made their way ‘round the lake to the Potter’s cul-de-sac, ambling along at a pleasant pace in the early morning sunlight.

They were just turning the corner by the lake when Dumbledore paused. They were on the road in front of the home where the Dumbledores had lived in years past, when Albus had been James’s age; he stood at the gate now, his hand resting on the white washed wood. James stood beside him, staring up at the house, too, then he glanced up at Dumbledore.

“I can’t picture you as a kid, sir,” James said. “I’ve tried loads of times passing this place, but I can’t ever quite do it.”

Dumbledore smiled and looked down at James, “I didn’t have the beard,” he said.

James laughed, “I’d imagine not, sir.”

Dumbledore stroked the beard now and he sighed. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t have liked me much, Mr. Potter,” he said, and he turned away from the house and continued on down the road.

James trotted alongside him. “I’m sure I would have, sir.”

“I didn’t like myself most of the time,” Dumbledore answered.

“You sound like Remus,” James said.

Dumbledore chuckled, “Except not so kind or so selfless as our dear Mr. Lupin.”

James shrugged, “I bet you were more so than you think.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me,” Dumbledore replied, “But no.”

They were approaching the cul-de-sac and James slowed down a bit and looked up at Dumbledore, biting his lip, hesitating, then looking forward again… He drew a deep breath, “Sir?”

“Mmm?” Dumbledore didn’t look down, and for this James was thankful. He didn’t want to be looked at.

“Do you reckon everyone has… a soul mate?”

“A soul mate?” Dumbledore asked.

“Someone they… belong to… someone they fit with. Like a puzzle piece. Like two halves of the same person.”

Dumbledore considered this. “I suppose I do.”

“Do you reckon somebody’s soul mate could… not like them?”

“I do,” Dumbledore said, “The same way we do not like ourselves at times.”

James fumbled for the right words. “If… if there was such a person, that had such a situation, where their… soul mate… didn’t particularly like them… what would you, er, suggest that they do? You know, to fix it.”

Dumbledore smiled. “I should tell that person to ask their supposed soul mate what it was that needed changing and I would recommend that they do whatever it is to fix it, if it isn’t too unreasonable… and see what happens.”

James nodded. “Right. Right, alright.”

Dumbledore asked, “Any particular person you’re asking after, Mr. Potter?” His lips were quirked at the corners.

“Nobody in particular.”

They’d reached the Potter’s house and Dumbledore waved for James to lead the way and they went on up the walkway and the door was flung open before they’d reached the stoop and Dora came out, furious as a hornet. “YOU… AGAIN… NOTHING SAID… NO NOTE… COULD’VE BEEN ANYWHERE, COULD’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED, STOLEN, KILLED!... WE HAVE HAD THIS TALK BEFORE!.... AND WHERE IS SIRIUS?”

James stared up at his mum with a rather horrified expression, then turned to Dumbledore.

“Ah Dora, I am sorry he’s frightened you so. It seems the boys were on a rather daring mission to reunite two star-crossed lovers,” Dumbledore said, “I’ve assisted them in this endeavor and as a result, Sirius Black will be spending a few days with Mr. Scamander before being returned to you, safe and sound.” Dumbledore put a palm on James’s shoulder. “This one, however, has been safely returned now.” He smiled.

Dora glowered at James. “Get your bum up stairs to your room where it belongs. We’ll have another talk later about protocol for embarking on rather daring missions later.”

James looked up at Dumbledore, “Thanks sir… bye,” and he dashed off.

Dora watched him go, then turned back to Dumbledore, shaking her head.

“Don’t be too hard on the boy, Dora,” Dumbledore requested, “One should never be punished for believing in love.”

Dora watched Dumbledore walk away, and disapparate at the edge of the Potter’s property, where the Fidelus Charm’s reach ended.




The house at Spinner’s End had been pitch dark since the day Eileen Prince was killed at Lestrange Manor. Severus Snape stood in the doorway of the parlor room, his hand on the frame of the door as his eyes moved about, taking in the spines of all the books in the room… his mum’s precious gobstones set on a squat table in the center of it and, in the corner, the little motheaten, threadbare couch, where Tobias Snape had often to be found passed out after a drunken stupor.

He flinched at the sound of things breaking in the hall behind him.

“Don’t just stand there, look around,” snarled Lucius Malfoy and he opened a tea pot that Eileen Prince had been fairly fond of and looked inside, found it was empty, and threw it to the floor. It shattered across the worn carpet, the lid rolling down the hall and bouncing off Severus Snape’s trainers. His robes were too short for his height, even with the hems torn out they were several inches from the floor, and his pants left his ankles showing at the sides. He bent to pick up the teapot lid.

Severus slid the teapot lid into his pocket. “I told you already, I’ve never seen a locket like the one he described.” He grit his teeth as Malfoy shattered a china doll. “She didn’t have jewelry, it would’ve stood out among her things.”

“The Dark Lord says your Mother had it, and so she must’ve done. She’s hidden it somewhere in this house, he is sure of it, and until we find it, we will not be let alone.” Lucius glared at Severus and turned back to the shelf he was tearing apart. “Might I remind you that it is your neck that is on the line? The sins of the mother passes onto the son. If we don’t find this bloody locket, the Dark Lord will not hesitate to kill you.”

Severus said, “Might kill you but he needs me, so he certainly wouldn’t kill me.”

Lucius stared at Severus, his mouth a thin line, biting back the words he was thinking (though Severus knew each one of them just as though they were his own thoughts), and turned away, unable to argue. He slammed his fist across the shelf, shattering two plates, a glass orb, and sending a wood box to the floor, where it crashed opened and a couple bronze knuts fell out.

Severus bent to pick them up, dropping them back into the box. “Stop destroying her things.”

“She’s dead, she doesn’t care about them,” Lucius sneered.

“Then stop destroying my things,” Severus growled.

Lucius scowled, but he stopped smashing things up as he searched for the locket…

The Dark Lord had summoned Severus Snape to his presence earlier that very evening. “At the Snape residence, Eileen Prince had… something of mine… which I should like very much to have back… It’s a locket. Amber stone. I need that locket.”

Severus stepped into the parlor room and started half-heartedly looking about, making sure to be careful of the items he touched, but also to make enough noise that Lucius Malfoy would believe him to be working quite hard at his hunt about the room.

It was to Severus’s utter dismay when he lifted the clock from the mantel, that he heard something thunk against the inside of it. Hesitantly, Severus twisted his wrist so that the thunk shifted...and into view came the necklace… dark golden yellow, on an old fashioned style chain. He stared at it for a long moment, the way the stone was clouded from the inside, the way he could nearly make out whispering voices… or ... something… coming out of the stone...

Severus looked up from the mirror to find Lucius Malfoy in the door.

Lucius stared at the locket.

“It looks… like a grubby old bit of rubbish,” muttered Severus. “What the hell does the Dark Lord want with this?” His nose crunched up.

Lucius Malfoy shook his head, “I don’t know. But it is not our place to question the Dark Lord and his motives. Let’s go.”