Leave Out All the Rest

Chapter 35: The Potter Legacy

POV: James

The world assumes that with parents like mine my life was the epitome of awesome—that I am awesome because they are, too (have been for so long).  Sure, that was irrevocably true, but they did not know more than the household names that were chanted from one corner of the world to the other.

Harry Potter: the Chosen One, the Savior of the Wizardying World, the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, and Revolutionary Head Auror. Yeah, Dad was all of that, he was a superhero in my eyes and the eyes of so many others, but no one knew of his demons. He was more than the defeater of dark magic and injustice; he was stubborn, easily enraged, suspicious, depressed, and anxiety ridden. 

Ginny Potter (nee Weasley): Truest Gryffindor, D.A. member, War Heroine, renown Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, and celebrated journalist. Of course Mum was magnificent and fierce, but she also came with limited patience, breathtaking anger-management issues, stubbornness, and an incline to kick arse now and ask questions later. 

Here I was, James Sirius Potter, their firstborn: caught between their good and their bad (but mostly their bad). 

My inherited suspicion was on the rise as I followed closely behind a group of witches. I knew if that suspicion won over my judgement I would be burning down a village in no time (something Mum would do). 

"How'd it go with McLaggen yesterday?" Freddie asked Louis as we continued to push our trolleys through King Cross station. 

"How'd you know about Coral?" Louis asked.

"Aunt Fleur told Mum," Freddie explained. "Well, more like yelled at Mum about it. Mum convinced her you weren't her bébé garçon anymore and you had every right to start dating. So, you know, you're welcome."

Louis scoffed at Freddie's remark, but still said, "Her parents were on holiday, so it was just Coral and her annoying little brother Conrad in that big house of theirs. Mum didn't know that, though; she just reminded me to be polite to the McLaggens and I told her I'd be the man she raised me to be."

Freddie let out a loud snort. "So, what? You just flew broomsticks for a few hours, babysat, and went home?"

"No. I slipped Conrad a few drops of Sleeping Drought every couple of hours. He was sound asleep by seven. After that, it was just me and Coral. You don't need the details of what came after, mate."

"I don't know to be impressed or concerned, really," said Freddie.  

Louis let out a laugh just as I pushed my trolley past them, heading for the three girls in front of us. Harper and Rose grunted out my name as I shoved them aside to line up with Emily.

"You're hiding something from me," I told her soon as she blinked green eyes in my direction. "Don't say you're not because Mum has been nothing but nice to me since the last time she saw you. And she's never nice to me."

Harper reached over to Rose, forcing her to slow down and fall back with Freddie and Louis. Rose protested, but still did not charge forward when Harper started whispering something in her ear. 

"We've talked about space, James," Emily muttered as she angled her trolley away from mine, adding a few steps of distance between us now. "I can't tell you everything I feel because I can barely comprehend it myself."

That felt like someone dove a sharp knife into my heart. 

"I know," I started to say in a low voice, "but somehow it seems like I'm the only person you can't say anything to. I'm aware I sound like a twat, that I'm making it about myself, but—"

"You're right," she said, stopping on our path to a familiar platform. "And I'm so sorry, James. It's just...every time I look at you, I realize what I'm not and what I've become. It's not your fault. It just hurts. Looking at you hurts. I'm the twat, not you."

"You're not," I started to defend, but she cut across me again to say, "There's a lot going on in my head and I can't add the harm I cause you to it, too, James. Please...just...Just give me space."

Just like that, Harper and Rose were by her side again. Each placed a hand on her back and motioned her forward.

Watching her go still hurt more than anything I had ever felt.

Louis and Freddie were then at my sides, too. Despite the fact that his and Coral McLaggen's relationship was growing strong, Louis gave me a look that resembled something like fuck love. I appreciated the solidarity, even if I couldn't say it. 

"Boys, if you don't want me to pull you by the ear, hurry up," Mum's voice carried through the crowded station. She was by Platforms Nine and Ten with some of the others, a frown already on her face. "The train leaves in eight minutes. If you miss it, I'm making you walk there."

Louis scrambled toward her direction. He had experience with Mum's fury and was always the quickest to follow her orders. 

"It's all right, James." There was a clap on my back. I turned to catch Al and Malfoy lollygagging about, too. "Romance is shite."

Malfoy rolled his silver eyes. "Like you should be complaining, Al."

"I should!" Al insisted. "Nia hasn't said a word to me since that Easter brunch at the Burrow. And earlier I swore she almost shoved me and my trolley onto the tracks of a moving train. She hates me."

"How can she not hate you?" Malfoy rebuffed. "You snogged her when your girlfriend was just outside that backdoor."

"Oh, yeah," I grunted, remembering the scene Rose and I had Flooed into. "That was quite a snog you and Harper shared. Bit messy, if you ask me."

Al punched my back now, his eyes frantically looking around us. "Shut up, idiot! Like I need anyone to know!"

I snorted. "I mean, kudos to you, Albie, but also shame on you. You snogged her and your girlfriend was having brunch with Nan? Shame."

"Don't call me Albie," my brother hissed, punching me once more, earning a laugh from me. Reluctantly, he then said, "The kiss wasn't the worst of it. I told her I loved her."

"He told her he's been mad about her since First Year," Malfoy clarified, rolling his eyes again. "Timing is not a strong-suit for you Potters, is it?"

Although Malfoy and I had somewhat of a truce these past few weeks due to our mutual concern and adoration for Emily, I felt that wavering at this exact moment. I had forgotten that he often was a witness to my fuck-ups when it came to her—seeing as he was her damn shadow ("best friend" as he called himself). 

"You three!" Mum's voice echoed again, this time her ire more prominent than before. "Did I not say I will make you walk to school? Cross over. Now."

"Is it really necessary for all of you to be here?" I asked Mum. "I normally appreciate an entourage, but this is ridiculous even for our family."

Mum swatted me upside the head when I neared her. "Most of you don't know how to wash your own underwear, James. You think we trust you with your own safety given the current situation of things?" 

"Come on, James," Aunt Hermione said from her place beside Draco, just as Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill followed Louis through the barrier. "No fighting today, okay? Your mother's had a rough week."

"She's had a rough week?" I scoffed, but still aligned my trolley. "Our Easter holiday was not a holiday at all. It felt like we were imprisoned.  No offense to you, Draco. I'm sure it's brought up really awful memories."

Draco cracked a small smile when Aunt Hermione's eyes went wide at my insensitivity. "Come on, Scor," he said to his son instead, "in you go."

Just as the Malfoys disappeared past the platform, Aunt Hermione instructed Hugo and Rose to do the same before she followed their trail. One by one they were going in, shadowed by a capable adult. 

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Mum said when Emily did not follow after Lily and Al. 

"Nothing," Emily said instantly, blinking briefly in my direction before she gave my mum a smile. "I'm ready."

She wasn't.

I saw it in that fleeting second her eyes met mine.

She was returning to Hogwarts after weeks of being secluded to her bed. She was returning to the place where Lance Greyback attacked her. She was returning to all those faces who had surely whispered and speculated about her.

"Here," I said, extending my hand out to her. "We can cross together if you'd like."

I knew she wanted space, but there was always a flame in my chest that burned for her, that was always willing to protect and defend her. 

I saw the fight in those green eyes that I loved, but she surprised me by taking my hand. 

"Okay," she whispered. "Together."

We went in through the bricks, hands clasped, and the steam of the Hogwarts Express greeted us on the other side. The emotion here was all wrong, too. That cloud of despair and worry that had been suffocating us all holiday was alive among other families.

I was too preoccupied in the past weeks with matters of my heart, I hardly paid attention to what the adults were saying about the state of the country. Even after what happened in Muggle London, after Mum almost died, I thought us safe. A hiccup in the timeline of reality made that happen—a mistake that would never occur again. We were protected.

The somber shadow across Uncle George's expression made me think otherwise, though. He held Roxy close to his side, a flicker of anxiety in his eyes I had seen only seen in old photographs post war. It lived in his every reflection since Uncle Fred was no longer by his side (they said it didn't start going away until Freddie was born). 

"Is Voldemort back?"

I turned to Artie, the youngest in our circle. Unfortunately for Uncle Percy, his son had inherited all of the Weasley energy and knack for rule-breaking. Artie lived in his own bubble of wild, vivid imagination that made him loud and brave, so much so that Freddie, Louis, and me often recruited him for our epic pranks (he was a mastermind, too). Now he looked his age. He looked like a frightened little boy tugging at his mother's sleeve, wanting to be picked up and held by her.

"What? No. Who told you that?" Aunt Audrey demanded, pushing Artie's face into her waist, her hand snaking into his red curls. 

"It wasn't me! Honest!" Freddie exclaimed soon as most adults looked over to him. 

Artie pushed himself a few centimeters out of his mother's embrace. "It's just like last time, isn't it? We're learning about it in History of Magic. Professor Binns said weird things started happening and people started hiding. Then people started dying. A lot of our family died, didn't they? Uncle Fred and Teddy's parents. I don't want my uncles to die or you and Dad to die, Mum."

Aunt Audrey's eyes filled with tears, pushing Artie back into her.

"Well, shit," muttered Freddie. "He was actually studying this holiday, wasn't he?"

"Listen, Artie," Dad began, letting out frustrated breath after sharing a look with Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. "This isn't like before. I—We promise you lot that, okay? No harm is going to come by our family. We as Aurors and as your parents promise you that."

"Be alert regardless," Uncle Bill spoke, his tone low and rumbling. Briefly, his eyes looked over to Dominique when he said, "Stick by each other and do not wander out alone. Be with those you trust. If you hear or see anything suspicious, you report it right away. Understand?"

"What are we supposed to be on the look out for?" asked Hugo. "It seems like you need a reminder, but weird stuff happens at Hogwarts all the time. There are students of all ages learning and experimenting with their magic. Weird is normal there."

Dad squeezed his palms into fists a few times before exhaling out again. "There is a group of the remaining Sacred Twenty-Eight—"

"The remaining prejudice ones to be exact," Aunt Hermione corrected quickly, nudging her chin toward the direction of a frowning Draco, signaling to Dad he had to choose his words more carefully as to not offend those who had reformed.

"—who are looking for ancient artifacts that once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. They have been passed down through generations of these families, but were lost when Voldemort first gained power. We believe they are riddled with old, dark magic."

My eyes began to narrow. "So, what? They think we're hiding them in our trunks to sneak into school? Did these twats not go to Hogwarts? Nothing gets past McGonagall."

"This isn't funny, James," Liam said to me, his frown forming, too. "They are searching through living members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. And if they don't find anything useful...Well, it's how my dad died."

Mrs. Malfoy squeezed Liam's shoulder, their grief the same.

"Someone else died, didn't they?" Rose asked, looking at Aunt Hermione after turning away from my dad. "I can see it in your face. You looked the same way when Grandmother Granger died. You didn't want to tell us, but Hugo and I knew."

"Everything is fine," Aunt Hermione tried to assure, even if we all knew she was terrible at lying. "Everyone is fine. We just need you all to be safe and smart the remainder of the year. That's all."

"Candice McLaggen is dead," Uncle Bill said, breaking past Aunt Hermione's shoddy attempt of security. He had never believed in lying, even if the truth hurt. He looked at Louis, who was slowly putting the pieces together. "Maiden name was Yaxley. She was one of the very few who reformed from that family. She died saving her husband—"

"Coral," Louis muttered, eyes widening. 

"She doesn't know yet. Cormac McLaggen was found late last night and is in St. Mungo's. Hermione and Draco were there with him, trying to help him recover his memory of the attack, and Harry and Ron were at the crime scene. It's just been a few hours, really."

Louis liked to be vague when defining his relationship with Coral McLaggen, but in that moment we all knew he loved her. It was in his blue eyes, filling with hurt and grief and worry that became his because they would soon be hers, too. The flame of burning protection sparked fast in him, making him snap into running mode the second he, too, realized what we had.

"LOUIS!" Aunt Fleur screamed when a shot of blinding red light stopped her son from going too far.

The rogues Dad had just been telling us about were among us. Hooded figures emerged out of the shadows, startling families who were saying their last minute goodbyes to their children. At once, all these adults who had perhaps survived the same war our parents had pulled out their wands, letting out a battle cry into the Platform. 

Uncle Bill's roar was more deafening than all other noise. Rage unlike anything I had ever seen wrapped him up, charging him forward with exposed, sharp teeth I thought he'd sink into the neck of the unknown man standing over Louis. 

"Percy, no!" Aunt Audrey screeched just as Teddy moved to hold Aunt Fleur back, making her rage and curse against him while Victorie tried to do the same to Dominique. Lucy tried to grab at her father, but Uncle Percy pushed her to Aunt Audrey. 

"I already lost a brother," he told her, Uncle George coming to his side with the same determination. "Not again. Not Bill."

Everything was happening so fast. I didn't know where to look, what to tune into, or what to do. I couldn't see Louis or my uncles anymore, Aunt Fleur's hysteric French was replaced by a combination of strangers' screams, Aunt Hermione was casting a protection spell over lost children, looking like their guardian angel, and Dad and Mum were running off together, wands out like the heroes they were as Teddy and Dominique grabbed at us, forcing us back through the barrier we had come in from.

"That's him!" I felt an elbow collide into my ribs, pushing me back a step. Al was pulling out his wand from inside his sleeve, green eyes locked in on a hooded figure being dueled by Uncle Ron. "That's the twat that almost killed Mum!"

Nia had thrown herself over Al's shoulders before his feet commanded him forward. "Don't," she growled into his ear. "The Ministry is monitoring your magic, Potter! This isn't the time for—"

Bricks and concrete came hurling at us, forcing us all back in different directions.

There was a loud ringing in my ears, my back and head aching from the sudden blow. I rolled over to my side, trying to refocus my attention, fingers trying to reach for my discarded wand, but the pain was making everything spin. I needed my wand. I needed to get to it, to arm myself so I could— 

Emily appeared before me, helping me up just as she was placing my wand into my hand. Her hands, sticky with blood (hers, mine, or someone else's, I couldn't tell), cupped the sides of my face, her eyes desperately searching for any visible, lethal damage on me.

"Together," the ringing morphed into her voice. "Together, remember?"

She took my hand in hers, forcing me up and on my feet. I barely felt her squeeze my fingers when we started running, jumping over debris, shields up to search for those we had lost.

Gryffindor bravery was a lie. 

Recklessness was not the same as courage. Impulse was something that lived in me, that rested right beneath my fingertips, always at the ready when an insane idea popped into my head. But it wasn't courage. I always thought I owned it—it came with the House and the family legacy, after all. It should have been mine from the start, but it wasn't something that could be passed down through genetic coding. You earned it. 

Nothing in my life required me to be brave.

So I froze. I froze back in the attack on Muggle London, unable to function as Mum laid on the road after having been hit with the Killing Curse and my little brother dueled her would-be murderer. I did nothing to help those around me. I sunk on my knees, crying into Mum's chest with Lily right beside me. 

Hogwarts did not prepare us for this. 

They taught us how the Wizardying World worked, how it developed from the age of Merlin and beyond. They taught us how our societies expanded, thrived, fell, and hid as our populations grew. They taught us about our alliances and our enemies. They taught us about people like Newt Scamander who had made remarkable discoveries in our world, bringing to light new species of magical creatures and plants that would then help save or educate us. They taught us about people like Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Tom Riddle, and Death Eaters—people who had caused and survived wars we could only read about to know they were true. 

They didn't teach us to be like those who had fallen. They didn't teach us to look Death in the eye and say, 'no, you're not taking the people I love'. Or, if Death really did come to collect, they didn't teach us to look it in the eye and say, 'take me instead'. 

The Protego Charm burst out of my chest to engulf a few frightened, young Slytherins. I recognized them from illicit dealings of Weasley Wizard Wheezes merchandise we held in random, secure locations out of Filch's notice. They looked up at me with my same fear.

"Protego and Stupefy," I told them as they hurried up onto their feet. "That's all you need to know. Get to the barrier and cross over!"

Emily yanked on my hand, steering me away from the students. My heart banged, my mouth and magic ready to summon another spell, but it stopped when I noticed she had found some of our own.

Malfoy was kneeling over Harper's body, trying to clear her of brick and concrete. Her blonde hair was wet with the blood gushing out of the left corner of her head. 

"Come on, Harper!" he growled as Emily dove in, helping to get her up. "Don't you fucking die on me, all right. Al and Liam will kill me if you do."

Malfoy gave her a rough shake, causing Harper's blue eyes to slowly blink awake. "Get...off," she groaned, grimacing at either his proximity or the pain she must be feeling. "I'll...kill...you...myself. Get...off."

Malfoy laughed, hugging her quickly before pulling her up. She went down just as fast.

"She's badly hurt," Emily said. "She's not going to be able to stand on her own."

"You should take her," Malfoy told her, hoisting Harper back up. "Get to the barrier. Potter and I will find the—"

There was no way Malfoy was going to convince Emily (or Harper for that matter) to leave the battle without having found the others. It was a lost fight coming, but what came first was Emily being shot back by a short jet of red light.

Before we could shout her name, Emily was getting back up on her feet. Then we all saw him. We saw who had hexed her. 

Lance Greyback.

There he was. There he was and I vowed to kill him if I ever saw him.

"Don't," Emily heaved, growing pale as she raised her wand with a trembling hand, "Don't you dare come near me."

Greyback grinned, sharp teeth glittering. "But I've missed you."

I didn't know if Emily was going to be sick or explode with magic, but Greyback didn't give her the chance to decide which one it'll be. He shot another curse at her. Crucio. 

The scream that left her mouth turned me into the Second Year boy who promised to protect her. It brought misery and rage out of me, shocking all of my cells awake on the way up to my palms. 

Harper cried out for Emily just as Malfoy charged forward, ready to strike. Greyback was quicker. He sent Malfoy flying in the direction of Emily. But it was in that moment of distraction that I managed to hit him with a spell I had only read about in Aunt Hermione's old journal. 

Sectumsempra.

Greyback's wand fell from his grasp, turning slowly to see who had cursed him. It was then that I saw what the spell did. He was being drenched in his own blood, gurgling at the mouth with it, too. 

My hand shook, but I remembered what he had done. I remembered what he did to Emily. So I concentrated harder on the spell, holding it as I approached him, kicking his wand far from any potential reach. 

"James!" Then there was Mister Malfoy, pulling my arm down as Greyback paled before us. 

"He deserves it, doesn't he?" I said to him, looking up at silver eyes that were appalled and concerned at once. "To die?"

"No," Mister Malfoy told me. "No one deserves to die, James. Not like this."

"But what he did—"

"You don't get to pass judgment on anyone. Your father—the Ministry decides. That's why we have laws."

"I promised I'd kill him," I muttered, looking back at Greyback. I had vowed this, but Emily would have never asked me for it. I knew this. Even though I was angry, even though I had wanted to wrap my hands around his throat until he paid for what he had done to the girl I love....it didn't feel right.

"Your father used this curse once," Mister Malfoy added, his hand squeezing my shoulder. "On an enemy he was dueling. They hated one another. Maybe they were aiming to kill, but when Potter cast it, all that hate was gone. Your father was angry, but he wasn't a murderer. You aren't either, James."

Greyback was gasping for air now, his flailing losing its strength as a puddle of blood formed around him now. He was seconds away from dying and I was letting him. 

"Help him," I said. "Save him and send him to Azkaban."