138Amelia gripped James' chin and lifted his head to the side. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the extent of damage on his neck. "You're lucky you didn't die."
Touching the fresh scar across his throat and collarbone, James was inclined to agree. By all rights, he should have died. He had been laid out by a curse reflecting off a shield charm during the fight. There had been no way to try and heal the wound as it had spurted blood, his wand had been knocked from his hand and he doubted he could even speak if he tried. All James could do at the time was hold the wound as it covered his hands with blood.
And then Slytherin had spotted him. Bloody prick abandoned his battle by blasting his attacker into a pillar, killing him instantly with a spray of viscera. James had the memory of his vision fading when Slytherin rushed over and did a makeshift healing spell on him to staunch the bleeding.
The Saint Mungo's staff had found the countercurse a few hours after he had been admitted, but the delay promised James would receive a shiny new scar.
The bitter side of James almost wished he had died, just to avoid owing Slytherin a life debt.
James dropped his head against the pillows, pulling away from Amelia's grasp. "I know." He slid his glasses on from the side table. "Care to tell me what happened?"
A flick of Amelia's wand and they were alone in James' St. Mungo's room. "Tell me what happened with you first."
He nodded. It made sense that she wanted someone who was ignorant to the gossip that had probably already started to form, but James still wanted to know what had happened. Maybe he would be able to recognize something. James sighed. "I apparated to Kensington Palace..."
##
James stepped into the main foyer. The coronation was less than an hour away and the palace crawled with the press and wizarding elite. He knew or, at least, knew of almost everyone present, the only exceptions being the foreign press.
Rita Skeeter and Bernard Crocker were both present with their own entourages and representing the New Daily Prophet. Each had their own audience which would want both of their opinions. Crocker had become more salacious recently and it seemed like he was stepping into Skeeter's purview while Rita was going the opposite way and taking a serious tone with her articles. Lot's of pro-monarchy stuff from her lately. Crocker was behind the publishing of Albus Dumbledore's private letters with... Gellert Grindelwald.
James pushed those thoughts aside. He understood that Dumbledore was just a man, a fallible one, but he was still one of James' heroes. Someone who gave second chances, who let Remus have a semi-normal life, who hired Lily in a world that seemed to hate her kind. He knew better than to have idols at this age, but… it still hurt.
Shaking his head as if he could clear the cobwebs of disappointment away, James focused on the crowd again. Witch Weekly had only sent one reporter, or they hadn't been allowed more than one. They weren't sycophants like the Prophet had become. He imagined the international reporters present were of a pro-monarchy standpoint.
He weaved his way through the crowd to the staircase. The seats in the balcony area wouldn't be filled by now and he would have a decent chance to get a good spot. He would be able to take a page out of Harry's book and switch from eavesdropping spell to eavesdropping spell from such a height. Not that anyone would be discussing anything of importance in a crowded venue such as this.
...Harry would have been great to have on their side. James hadn't liked it when he had found out but his son was incredible at digging up information of all sorts. He would have made an amazing auror or researcher.
But no, Slytherin had seduced him to the side of purebloods and bigotry. The house and the man.
James was in the midst of grabbing the bannister to move upstairs when his robe sleeve was grabbed. He paused and stared at the old man holding onto him. A man with milky white eyes. "Excuse me?"
The man released James' robe. "Apologies, you have a similar gait to a friend of mine and I thought you were him. I do not mean to burden you with this, but could you help get me to my spot? It appears his Majesty is unable to spare a house elf for a poor blind man."
James blinked. "Of course. The seats are first come first serve and I was heading up to the balcony. We can find you a spot there-"
"I'm a member of the Sacred 27. I have reserved seating near the front." The man pulled an envelope from his pocket and passed it to James. The name 'Augustus Avery' was emblazoned across it in gold script. "In return for your assistance you can sit with me as my guest."
The name seemed familiar. James opened the envelope and pulled out a card which had where the Avery family was to sit. Second row from the front.
He didn't want to offend the man and turn down his offer. His goal had been to be above the action, but to take the man there and then scarper off would be beyond rude. "I would be honored," James said and linked arms with the man. They made their way through the crowd, some people stepping out of the way when seeing them.
The security seemed to recognize Avery without the invitation and parted ways without a word.
"Avery… Avery… I feel like I've heard your name before. Outside the context of the Sacred 27, that is."
Avery's mouth twitched into a smile. "Perhaps, if you tell me your name I might be able to help you pinpoint it."
James slapped his hand to his face. He hadn't introduced himself. "I'm sorry. I'm James Potter."
Avery raised a brow. "Harry Potter's father?"
Usually he was recognized for his own name and not his sons. Times were a-changin '. Not that he resented Harry for it, it was just surreal. Kid was barely out of Hogwarts and was known in the upper echelons of society. "The one and only."
"Ah," Avery tapped his fingers against James' forearm. "Perhaps, Harry mentioned that I was the one that assisted him in getting into the gala after Lord Slytherin was elected."
A piece of crumpled parchment flicked across his mind. A letter Harry had sent him. One that he had been sure his son had sent in an attempt to get back on his good side. Not that it had worked. "...That would be it. I think he asked me what would be an appropriate gift to thank you for your help."
"Oh? Were you the one who suggested the fine bottle of 1955 Cabernet Sauvignon?"
"That sounds suspiciously like a bottle from my wine cellar that went missing a few months ago. I wish I could say I suggested it, but with the insanity of the last few months, I failed to reply back to him," James said.
James guided Avery to his seat and sat next to him. They sat behind Ulysses Nott and his son. Ugh.
"Shall I send the bottle back?" Avery asked with a raised brow.
James shook his head and then realized he was an idiot. "No, no. Keep it. It's not like I ever intended to drink it. Please enjoy it."
"So thoughtful, it must be where your son gets it from. He's a nice boy," Avery said, smiling.
Nott had turned around and glared at James, his lips forming a thin line at Avery. He turned back and crossed his arms with a "harrumph."
"I have to give all the credit to my wife Lily," James said, emphasizing her name so Nott could hear. He wondered how Avery would respond to him mentioning his muggleborn wife. Was Avery one of the Sacred 27 with no spine that fell in line with the other purebloods or was he a raging asshole like Lucius Malfoy?
"A mother's influence is powerful, but a father's should not be overlooked either." Avery's thumb brushed over his cufflinks. James could see small lines on the brass. "This is a rather intimate question and I hope I am not overstepping my bounds, but may I inquire about your feelings about your son being Lord Slytherin's paramour?"
James' mouth dropped open at the audacity. "Uh, wow."
"Ah, sounds like I overstepped. Apologies. It's not like I can read faces," Avery said with a chuckle. "The ceremony should be starting soon."
James felt the obvious end of the conversation. Crossing his legs, James scoped out the room. Avery was clearly correct as more and more were ushered into the seats.
If Amelia's assumption that Slytherin was just a puppet, then sitting amongst the Sacred 27 was the best place to be. It could only be them, or their associates pulling his strings. He reclined back and closed his eyes, his eavesdropping spell changing from group to group. Harry would be proud if he could be proud of his father.
Gossip, gossip, slander, gossip, house elf breeding strategies- Wait, what? Ew.
He was briefly jarred from his reverie by the actual start of the ceremony. Lord Slytherin had entered the room and stood to the side as Fudge began to pontificate. Frankly, James wasn't surprised the Fudge had switched to pro-monarchy. The man had a backbone with the structural integrity of a wet noodle.
James zoned out while Fudge spoke. The whispers in the room had grown silent except for a few of the younger crowds mocking Fudge, which, frankly, was a general mood and he would probably be doing the same if he and Sirius were sitting next to each other.
He didn't see Sirius in the section with the Sacred 27, but he did see Harry. He sat between Regulus, and Crouch's son. He must be Regulus' guest. It's not like there was an official spot for the king's… something.
He ignored the seat next to the throne.
Harry was looking at him. James didn't know how long he had been watching him. His son looked… confused. James almost wondered why until he remembered where he was sat and with whom. Ulysses Nott sat in front of him with his son Theo. In essence, he was sitting in the middle of the lion's den.
Pity the lions weren't talking. Just one lion whispering to the other about how they were going to make Lord Slytherin do something devious was all he needed. Just a hint of something nefarious to give him a trail to follow.
James tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling arches. He wasn't going to get any information for Amelia here. The only answers would be in some shady back rooms with a very limited set of people. The only way he had an into that kind of world was Sirius and Sirius was as welcome there as a muggleborn. Regulus would have been an entry point, but he had seemingly been swayed over. Damn it.
His thoughts buzzed around blankly to the point he missed the crowning of Slytherin, and the first step of wizarding Britain from democracy to fascism. Okay, maybe he zoned out on purpose so he didn't have to see it.
James was perhaps a little too zoned out, he wasn't able to initially parse that the screams weren't cheers. It was very clear they were not cheers when flashes of red and green began to sly fly over and through the crowd.
"Get down!" James said and pushed Avery down to the floor.
"What's happening?" Avery pressed against the back of the row in front of them. The matriarch of the Greengrass family was on the floor next to him, her daughters held close to her chest.
"There's an attack!" James whipped out his wand and deflected a spell headed their way.
In less than a minute, the room had descended into a full blown battle, except no one seemed to know who was the enemy. The crowd was attempting to flee the room while security were attempting to push in. People were being trampled in the bottlenecks.
James cast a shield charm and drew himself up. A group fought outward from the middle of the hall, surrounded by shield charms and a dark miasma of concealing fog. They threw spells out at the crowd of nobles, the guards, and Slytherin.
A spell flew his way, shattering the seat in front of him. Neither of the Nott's had been in it, but on the floor already. James didn't know if they were faking injury to avoid further attacks, or if either of them were actually injured. He didn't think Nott Sr. was the type to lay across his child to protect him.
James pressed forward to where he had last seen his son. Slytherin could handle himself. He wasn't going to let his son be killed because he was too stupid not to be enamoured with the monarchy.
Through the smoke and sparks, James spotted Harry, Crouch, and Regulus shooting spells at the attackers from behind a pillar.
A spell was sent their way, chunks exploding off the pillar and sending shrapnel into the crowd.
James was in the midst of sending his own curse when a streak of purple shot past his face towards Avery.
He didn't expect the older man to have cast a shield charm around himself and the Greengrass family. The purple curse bounced off the shield and rebounded.
James fell to the floor, the air knocked out from his chest and his neck sprayed blood into the air. He grasped his throat, his sleeve quickly soaking up the blood.
Harry shouted something. He knew it was Harry. Bloody kid better stay with Regulus and not get himself killed. He would rather Lily be a widow than her lose a son.
His fingers were slippery with blood and his vision was going black.
"Mister Potter, please refrain from dying." The darkness was batted away for a moment as he locked gazes with Slytherin who was hunched over him.
James let out a groan that came out as a gurgle.
##
"After he staunched the bleeding, he dropped a disillusionment on me until the battle was over and I was rushed here. I was unconscious for the most part."
Amelia said nothing. She sat on the window sill and watched the street beneath. "Did you see any of the attackers?"
"The veil lifted enough that I spotted two. I recognized Caradoc Dearborn and the boy attacking Harry looked like Amos' son. What about the rest? Were they captured?"
He watched Amelia's reflection frown. "All dead, except one who escaped."
James pushed himself up, his brow furrowed. "Morgana's tits, dead? Were the guards using the killing curse or something?"
She nodded.
Merlin.
"Why? Did Slytherin tell them to?"
"No," she spat the word out like it was poison. "He supposedly was telling them to stop using the killing curse. They supposedly ignored him. They've been sent to Azkaban until their trial."
"There were witnesses to him saying to stop, right?"
Amelia sighed and moved from the window sill to a chair at the food of James' bed. "Yes. All of them are loyal to him. Your boy was amongst them."
James licked his lips. "I'm sorry."
"Not as sorry as I am." She buried her face in her hands. "One of the attackers was my brother, Edgar."
He stared at the sight of his defeated looking boss. She seemed like she was going to curl in on herself. "What."
Tears fell on the tiled floor. "I know my brother," her voice was low growl. "He may be an antimonarchist, but he would never launch an attack that would kill people." Amelia slammed her fist on the foot of the bed. "Something foul is happening! They've killed my brother and by doing so they've destroyed my credibility."
His chest was tight. He couldn't even imagine what she was going through. "I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry."
"I am authorizing you to use any means necessary to get to the bottom of this. I am having an order of immunity drawn up for you." She was digging her fingernails into her hairline, thin rivulets of blood bloomed from underneath.
He bit the urge to reach over and pull her hands away from his face. "What kind of means?" James asked, his voice shook
"Polyjuice, the Unforgivables, nothing is off limits. You will be given a discretionary fund for whatever you need."
##
Tom watched the throne room return to its grandiose state. The walls were repaired, the seats were removed, new ones would be added later, blood was siphoned off the floor. He seethed. His heart had been trying to burst free of his ribcage for hours. His plan had gone off perfectly.
His plan.
It could have been Nott, it was likely his idea, but Tom wouldn't put anything past Avery.
He left the room as the auror's reentered downstairs. The DMLE would be investigating the attackers and it would be linked back to Witch Weekly and their editors. There was nothing he needed to do about that.
He left that palace entirely and apparated to Avery's home.
The wards protested as his magic pressed across the boundaries of the home before shattering. A flick of the wrist sent the gates careening through the sky, ready to crush a poor sheep wandering the lake district. The wind roared as a storm began to form in the distance. The eye of it moved with Tom. A flash of lightning struck a tree with his first step, thunder rolled with his second, rain poured with his fourth, and hail began with his fifth.
By the time the door shattered under his glare several tornadoes were tearing across the landscape. Tom stood in the foyer, the building rattling beneath his anger.
"Come down here Augustus," he whispered, but everyone on the property could hear each syllable dripping with malice. No one was on the property except for Avery, he knew Tom would be coming. He would have to be a fool not to expect him.
Avery appeared at the top of the stairs, his clothes unchanged from the coronation. Dark stains of blood on his blue robes. "If anyone has a right to be mad, I think it would be myself," he snapped.
"Who's idea was it? Yours or Nott's?" The windows exploded as lightning struck at the threshold of home.
Avery descended the stairs jauntily. "To attack the boy? Nott, of course," Avery strolled past Tom with a nonchalance that would get lesser men killed. "Care for a cup of tea?" He stepped into a side room near a tea service.
Tom said nothing, a flick of his wrist and his wand was in hand.
"I'll take that as a no. I only told Ulysses to go through with it if you went through with your attempts on our lives," Avery smiled. "You are incredibly predictable. I pull a string, you pull it back and harder. It's fairly easy to ensure that the person you hurt with your reactions is yourself." Avery had walked over to a side table and was preparing himself a cup of everlasting tea.
"Nott dying was fine, but if any harm befalls me, your horcrux will be destroyed. That, I swear." He dropped a cube of sugar into the cup. "We are so close now. You are the king of magical britain. What you say is law. I know what you have told your "inner inner circle," and I don't care if you want to go through with it. All I ask is that you do a few favours for me and Marcus when we ask. As per our agreement." Avery took a long sip of his tea.
Tom slashed his arm out, Avery flew across the room and smashed into the wall. "I AM TIRED OF YOUR CONTROL!" Tom roared and stomped across the room, his wand pointing at Avery's chest. "I am the heir of Salazar Slytherin and the most powerful wizard in generations. I refuse to be beholden to the likes of you."
Avery pushed away from the wall, blood staining the back of his hand as he coughed. "Remember that if you kill me, it's not just your horcrux that is destroyed, but the entire house of cards will come crashing down. You will be revealed as a Gaunt, Crouch will be arrested for the murder of his father, Snape for the death of Albus Dumbledore, Bellatrix for killing her father-in-law-"
Tom stopped breathing. How did he know?
"Oh yes. I have known that since it happened. Nothing is secret from me. And let us not forget Harry's crimes of reducing his friend to a member of the Janus Thickey ward. If I go down, we all go down. There will be no more attacks, authorized by me, on your paramour. And there will be no further assassination attempts on me.
"Now, do stop with the theatrics, you and I both know that you weren't going to kill me." Avery stood up and brushed the debris off himself. "Why don't you go and comfort your poor little friend. I imagine he's had a rough day, once for being attacked and once for his father almost dying."
"Why attend if you knew we were going to try? Why use James Potter?"
"I assumed James Potter would be enough to ensure that you wouldn't dare target me in fear of him getting injured. I know you promised the boy his father would be safe." Avery laughed. "Now, I must insist you leave, your majesty. We've both had a long day and I suddenly have a house I need to repair."
