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Lucy Minchum


Crack!

James wobbled as he landed on his feet in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Kreacher’s hand still fisted about his wrist, Maryrose right beside him. The place was just as grim and old as he recalled, everything dark and tight, the walls narrow and high, as though looming over him, dark magical artefacts and horrid house-elf heads leering from high shelves and along dark green wallpaper and black trim and wainscoting. Kreacher immediately shoved them into a pantry, closing the door hurriedly as footsteps echoed through the entry hall by the door and Walburga Black herself entered the room.

“What was that sound, Kreacher?” she demanded.

“Kreacher dropped a pan, Mistress, Kreacher is most sorry, Kreacher will burn his fingers with an iron as punishment, Mistress,” he murmured.

Walburga stared at him and looked around the room, assessing everything. After several long moments, she said, “Go and fetch the Minchum girl’s bags. Lucius wishes to send them ‘round to the Manor with his house elf.”

“Yes, Mistress, Kreacher will get the girl’s belongings for Mr. Malfoy’s elf,” he bowed low, his ears rolling against his head, “Kreacher will go and get them, yes.”

“Very good.” Walburga turned and started toward the door. She paused in the center of it and looked back, “And do be more careful in the future with the pans.” With that, she stepped out the door and Kreacher listened as she took the two wooden steps into the entryway and across it into the parlour, where the Dark Lord must still be…

Kreacher turned and let James and Maryrose out of the pantry cupboard and James, who’d been leaning against the door to hear what was said, nearly fell as he wrenched the door open. Kreacher looked up at them with big glassy eyes, a bit of disdain upon his face - after all, James Potter was a pureblood, yes, but to a family who were bloody traitors and, as far as Kreacher knew from what Walburga had taught him, that was as bad as any muggleborn filth.

He didn’t know anything at all about Maryrose.

“Kreacher must go and get the girl’s things,” he said croakily.

“Can you show us where she is?” James requested.

Kreacher glanced back, cowering slightly, and then waddled carefully across the kitchens, his wide bare feet scraping over the stone with a distinct shuffling sound. James and Maryrose followed, careful not to make a sound. Luckily, the parlour door was closed and Kreacher beckoned them up the steps just outside it and Maryrose closed her eyes and held her breath as they rounded the bannister and took one steps at a time, Kreacher pointing out steps that creaked in the middle and James carefully tested his weight on each one to check for creakage before stepping upon it, keeping his eyes on the door of the parlour as well. Kreacher waited at the landing by the second floor door, which James knew was the library where the fireplace he and Lily had flooed in last year was located.

Rounding the corner, they started up the second flight of stairs and at the top he could see the promised door with the R.A.B. name plate adhered to the door. He looked up out of curiosity to see the stairwell went on another three or four levels - and he wondered which was the one Sirius’s room was off of and he marvelled at how bloody dark it all was. The walls seemed to feed on light, as though no matter how many torches were lit along the corridor, the darkness was still all-consuming because the walls ate it up before it could reach the eyes of passersby.

No wonder Sirius hated it here.

They reached the R.A.B. door and Kreacher clicked his fingers to unlock it, and the door swung open and they stepped inside quickly, eager to get out of the stairwell, where Walburga or the Dark Lord himself could come upon them at any moment. It felt safer being within the enclosure of the bedroom. It was exceedingly nice in there, though a bit Slytherin for James’s taste. The bed was hung with thick green velvet curtains and taller than the four posters in Gryffindor tower, and the blankets upon the bed were plus and down-filled. The walls were dark with green wallpaper and covered with a Slytherin banner, a banner for Regulus’s quidditch team, and spello taped ads for several different models of brooms and articles on various famous quidditch players and their techniques. Regulus had hung his chocolate frog collection up on the wall with spellotape as well - in numerical order with gaps in the set for some of the ones he was missing, though he seemed to have most of them, only a couple gaps existed in the set. The little table held a gobstone set, not set-up, but the board and the bag of stones beside it, and his desk was adorned with stationary and stacks of textbooks from prior years.

There in the corner, tucked between the desk’s side and the wall, was Lucy Minchum.

She was trembling, staring at them with a horrorstruck face, hugging her knees to her chest, her face wet with tears. She shook her head and backed deeper into the corner so that all they could see was her toes.

Kreacher’s ears flattened and he looked at them, then back to her, and then he went and scrambled to get the small bag of things together.

Maryrose stepped forward first, walking over to the corner where the girl was and carefully kneeling down to look at her, as James hovered over her shoulder. Maryrose brought her palms to rest upon the girl’s knees gently and she tilted her head so she could look in her eyes. “Hullo sweetheart,” she whispered quietly, smiling in a soothing manner, “Lucy, my name is Maryrose Jenkins, and this here is James Potter. We’re going to help you get back to your grandpa… How does that sound?”

Lucy looked up tremulously, her eyes wide with fear and a slight flicker of hope.

“We’re here to save you.” Maryrose said.

Behind them, Kreacher dragged the bag out the door, and they could hear his shuffling steps echoing down the stairwell.

“I’ll bet you miss your home, yeah?” Maryrose whispered to the little girl.

Lucy Minchum nodded.

James hovered, looking over his shoulder, then back to Lucy and Maryrose. “C’mon,” he said, “We need to figure out how to get out of here. I’m hoping the floo will work - we’ll have to aim for McGonagall’s or Dumbledore’s, and I dunno how that works if we’re uninvited. We might have to go back down past that front door and if we do I don’t want the Dark Lord to be stirring about in that parlour when we do. It only takes so long to drink tea.”

Maryrose looked at Lucy, “Can you be very brave?” she asked.

Lucy stared up at her. “I think so,” the girl whispered, barely audible.

Maryrose held out her hand to the girl and Lucy took it and Maryrose pulled her up to her feet. Lucy was wobbly on them - it was clear she hadn’t been doing a lot of moving about since coming here. She was impossibly thin and peaky and her eyes had dark hollows beneath them that worried James. The girl started to trip and fell into Maryrose and tears filled her eyes. Thinking quickly, James knelt down, “Here, climb on my back.”

Lucy looked up at Maryrose, uncertain about James still.

“What a great idea,” Maryrose said, smiling at Lucy, “A piggyback ride! Isn’t that fun?”

Lucy looked back at James and hesitantly stepped forward until she was right behind him and she carefully wrapped her arms about his neck James reached back and took hold on her legs, hoisting her up so she was sitting against his spine, hunching forward slightly for balance. Lucy held tightly onto him and pressed her face against his shoulder. “There we are,” James said, and he stood up. “Alright, Lucy?” he asked.

She nodded against his shoulder timidly.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

They turned to the door.

The door opened before they got to it, and there was Kreacher again, and, ears flapping, he said, “The Dark Lord and Kreacher’s Mistress are coming, they’re coming.”

“Bloody hell,” James muttered. He looked around. What to do? What to do? They had to make a run for it. And they had to pray really, really hard that the bloody floo network would work. “C’mon. Run.”

They ran.

They ran down the stairs, not giving a damn if they creaked or thumped or any other sound in the world. They raced to the library room, shoving the door opened and running across the plush green carpet. James clutched onto Lucy. They ran across the room to the fireplace - they could hear voices in the stairwell outside and James looked at the door and then back to Maryrose, “Quick. Find floo powder, quickly.” They scoured the mantel, grabbing at all the knick knacks, opening up little jars and turning over boxes ‘til they finally found a black opal vase with the family crest etched into it that opened and within it was the bright green floo powder. James thrust it at Maryrose. “Here, you’re going first. Try Dumbledore’s office.”

Maryrose plunged her hand into the green powder and stepped into the hearth, tossing the powder at her feet. “Hogwarts - Dumbledore’s Office!” she declared as clearly as she could. Green flames rose up around her ankles - but she didn’t go anywhere. She looked at James helplessly. “Dumbledore’s office!” she tried again. But nothing.

“Bloody hell,” James said.

Suddenly there was a very loud, very violent shout upstairs and an explosive sound and Lucy flinched against him, starting to cry.

“I think they know she’s gone,” James’s voice was weary. “We haven’t got much time. Quick. Try - try bloody anywhere.” He shoved the powder at Maryrose again. “Quickly!”

Maryrose’s hands shook as she took another handful of powder and upstairs there were more explosions. The Dark Lord was in a real temper, they could hear the roaring of his voice, hear the sizzling of his powers and the explosions - oh the explosions! James imagined feathers from that down comforter flying through the room and he shuddered and turned to Maryrose. “Hurry.”

She tossed the powder to her feet again. “Leaky Cauldron!” she tried, still nothing. Tears filled her eyes, “The Ministry for Magic! The Hogs Head Inn! Please!” She begged the mantel, tossing more and more floo powder so that the green flames wouldn’t subside, “Anywhere! Anywhere at all!” But she stayed exactly where she was, in the hearth in the library of Walburga Black.

“It’s no use,” James decided, “We gotta make a break for that front door.”

Maryrose nodded, and they ran for the door of the library, but before they could reach it, there were thundering footsteps on the stairs and James froze and he turned around, looking for someplace to hide there in the library. “Quick, those drapes!” They hurried for the drapes, ducking behind the thick green velvet and pulling them around themselves. James drew his wand and aimed it at Lucy over his shoulder - still crying, “I’m sorry, but -- Silencio!”

Maryrose looked over at him from her curtain and he looked over at her and he drew a deep breath and she wrapped her hand around the medallion that Regulus had put about her neck and rubbed the gold between her fingers nervously, thinking of him and trying to draw up the bravery that she needed. “I’m scared,” she whispered the confession to James.

“Me, too,” James whispered back.

Maryrose had tears pouring over her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” James whispered. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Maryrose said quietly. She stared at him with wide, wet eyes. “But if I had to be in it with anybody, James, I’m glad it’s you. You’re the bravest person I know.”

“I’m not,” he shook his head.

“You are. You’re incredibly brave. You didn’t even hesitate to do this, you just knew a little girl was in trouble and you came. It’s the very description of bravery.”

James felt his throat rise up in a thick lump and he said, “That’s the description of idiocy, too.”

Maryrose whispered thickly, “You’re not an idiot.”

“I am,” he answered.

She shook her head, “I don’t think you are, I think you’re amazing. I love you.” She stopped. Her face flushed bright red and she closed her eyes, shuddering. She hadn’t meant to say it. Her hair drained its colour in her own surprise and she pulled her curtain shut around herself, her face hot with embarrassment.

“Oi. Maryrose,” James hissed. “Maryrose, it’s okay - I --” but before James could say whatever it was he’d been about to say, the sound of the library door knob stopped him and he, too, pulled the curtain tight about himself and he pressed as hard as he could against the window - the cold of it burning his skin and he could feel Lucy still crying against his shoulder, the hot tears melting through his oxford. The door squealed opened and hurried footsteps came in - two sets. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

“She was here,” said a low voice - Rudolphus Lestrange, James recognized it from long ago. “Tried to use the floo network. Look at that.”

“I had that disconnected after the incident last year,” Walburga said imperially. “Didn’t want that happening again! Especially now with the Fidelus Charm expanded so much.” Her voice trembled. If had expanded, after all, because her husband was dead.

Rudolphus looked around the room, and he drew his wand and started bending to peer beneath the desk, opened a trunk that was pushed against the wall. He tore the cushion from a plush chair and threw it across the room and James heard it hit the wall and skid… right toward the drapes and Rudolphus Lestrange let out a low throaty laugh and started across the room. “Come out, come out, ickle one,” he hissed, “I ain’t goin’ter hurt’cha…”

James held his wand in his fist and he allowed himself to slowly take in a long breath, preparing to shout a spell, preparing to leap out from behind the curtain and make his bid for the door, to fight to get them through… He inched his curtain open slightly and looked over at Maryrose’s, wanting to synchronize the motion, but when she peered back - he found himself looking into the face of Lucy Minchum. He blinked in surprise.

What’re you doing? he mouthed at her.

She held a finger up to her mouth telling him to shush. She stared at her in shock and disbelief. Maryrose mouthed the words stay still, and before he could stop her, she whipped her curtain back, shoved something into his chest pocket, and ran forward.

James had to actually restrain himself from going after her, every muscle in his body fought with him. The only thing that kept him from doing it was the weight of Lucy Minchum clinging about his neck.

She shouted as a cry went up from Rudolphus, “Got’cha!” he barked and he heard the Death Eater scoop Maryrose-Lucy up from the carpet, “You bleedin’ little blighter. Dark Lord’s lookin’ fer you!”

James could hear them going to the door, and he panicked. What was Maryrose’s plan? Then he remembered she’d shoved something in his pocket and he reached for it, hoping that it would answer what her plan was - perhaps it was a note - and he dug into the pocket and what he drew out took his breath away.

It was Regulus’s medallion.