Chapter 19 : The One with the Burnt Pie
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For babybarakat and IAMTHEONEWHONOX and awsomonium.
The reaction was swift, even if it was deafened slightly by my stay at the hospital.
Front page of the Prophet. Cover of Quidditch Weekly. Scrolling across every wizarding news station on television.
Pretty soon, Clara Robinson had an interview with Merlin from the Chapel, who was all too delighted when he found out who I was. Then the interview aired with the judge.
“These pompous celebrities think they can go get drunk and married and have no consequences? Ha!”
His exact words.
Avery unplugged her mother’s phone and told her not to go into work.
I couldn’t do the same for my parents. Dad told everyone at the Ministry to shove off because he had important business to take care of. Mum got asked to take the afternoon off when she hexed a reporter.
The worst was my Howler from Lindt. It wasn’t even a proper Howler. He didn’t yell. He requested my presence in his office that evening.
“Going to go?” asked Lily, who was eating grapes with Albus on my sofa. They weren’t too keen on media attention either. Half an office was camping just outside our property line.
“Have to, don’t I? Already missed the randomly mandatory practice, resulting in my disallowment from the second exhibition game. At this rate, I’ll never play.”
“At least interviewing pays well,” Lily said and shrugged.
“He’s probably going to tell me I’m off the team.”
“The captain can’t kick you off the team, though. Ballo has to do that.”
“Ballo probably will.”
Lily tossed a grape at my head. “Ballo gave you a shot. He’s not going to go back on his word because you got too drunk in Italy and married your secret girlfriend. Did you kick Meta off the team when she was shagging Bink? No, of course not. She was too good to replace.”
My baby sister had a point. If Ballo booted me, they would lose all the Potter revenue. The spotlight.
Maybe that didn’t matter to him, though.
“Just go before I get anxiety,” Albus muttered.
“Before YOU get anxiety?” I said. “This entire flat is full of anxiety. Freddie’s still at the hospital with Amy dreaming up wedding plans, Bink is waiting to see if Rose will be gone the rest of the summer, and my life is in the process of being destroyed…again. If you don’t want anxiety, go to the park.”
“You know how long it’s been since I’ve been on a slide?”
I picked up the bag of grapes and dumped it on my brother’s head.
Henrik Lindt’s office was down a long, empty hall from the locker rooms. The door was shut, but light poured out through the gap at my feet. I knocked four times and held my breath.
It took me a while to get up the courage to leave. I dressed in a button-down and tried to smooth my hair, but it didn’t do much good. My hair might be softer than Al’s, but it was just as crazy.
The door opened. Henrik’s face was like a stone. He nodded so I entered.
I sat in one of two leather chairs facing his desk. He got a desk. I didn’t have a desk, but I wanted one so I could get leather chairs and a fountain pen.
“Hey,” I said, breaking the silence. Epic silence.
“Potter, we need to have a talk.”
“Are you kicking me off the team?” I blurted. Lily told me not to do that. It wasn’t tactful.
Come on, Lily. I’m not tactful.
“What?” Henrik sat in his own winged leather chair and folded his hands on the calendar draped across the top of his desk. “Am I kicking you off the team?”
“Yeah. For being a git.”
“Look, James, I need you to be honest with me here. It is apparent from the first team meeting you haven’t been the slightest bit honest with me and I’m disappointed. I thought you, coming from your Captaincy of Gryffindor, would appreciate honesty and loyalty.”
The loyalty part was Hufflepuff, but I got his point.
“I haven’t lied about everything.” That was a really bad defense.
“I want the truth.”
Henrik rolled his eyes. Hufflepuffs were supposed to be patient. “About everything. Right now. I want you to tell me the truth about you and Avery Flynn. What’s going on now. What was going on when you were signed. Before you were signed. I need to know.”
“Should I ask if that’s an invasion of privacy?”
“No. You should not.”
I remembered why we didn’t get leather furniture for the front room. I began to sweat, my arms sticking to the rests and inside of the chair. Awkward.
I didn’t have much of a choice, sitting in his intimidating office, so I told him everything. How Avery and I started dating second half of our seventh year. How we broke up because her father was, well, a lot of words Henrik told me to stop saying. How we tried to be friends, but it didn’t work. How I tried to do the Quidditch star thing and move on, but I couldn’t. How I left the tournament early to see her.
How we tried not to date, but failed. How we tried not to fall in love, but failed.
How we got drunk and got married and agreed to cross the bridge of the thirty days when it arrived, making it easier for those around us.
“What were you going to do when it was up?” he asked. “Stay married? Get separated and then break the Code again? Potter, this is insane.”
“You’re telling me,” I agreed. “Look, I’m not expecting you to have any sympathy for me, but I’m not sorry.”
“I’m not sorry,” I repeated. “I love Avery and I’m going to do everything I can to keep her.”
“You’re risking your Quidditch career.”
“I’m risking your Code, not my career.”
“I’ve heard otherwise.”
My head snapped up. It actually hurt. “From who? About what?”
Henrik shook his head and pieces of perfect hair fell into his face. He pushed them away. “I’m not at liberty to discuss this matter with you. Just know you’re treading on thin ice.”
My heart raced. What if Mason had gotten to him?
If he had, wouldn’t Mason already be on the team?
Unless they couldn’t just kick me off the team because of the bad press. They had to force me into doing it myself.
That was crazy. No way Henrik was risking a Cup because of something stupid like that.
“Fine. So if Avery and I are still dating each other after the thirty days, I’m benched?”
“That’s the Code,” Henrik said, voice somber. He was no longer looking at me. “If you are still a Tornado and Miss Flynn is still a Harpy. Those are the rules.”
His gaze was fixed on the fountain pen.
“James, be careful,” he said.
Henrik Lindt had been compromised.
“Someone got to Lindt?” Bink said, raising a brow. He was back at the flat when I arrived, determined to avoid Rose when she received notice via owl about her interview. “Think it’s whomever let slip on the info to Nia?”
“I don’t know. It can’t be Mason or the fucker would already be on the team.”
I paced the empty sitting room. Avery was with her mother. My siblings were at the house spying on the reporters at the end of the driveway. Mum was making roast so loudly I could hear the pans being thrown against the sink.
I had a real habit of letting my problems impact my family.
Dad’s owl arrived when I walked in the door, but he didn’t have any news. He did say the timing of my “breaking news” was convenient, considering it was right after he started to ask questions.
It might go deeper than we think, he wrote.
“I still have two weeks until the first game,” I said.
“Unless the plan has changed.”
“What do you mean?” My head snapped up. Falcon Cat came sauntering into the room with a toy mouse in her mouth.
“I mean, what if after Nia told you, things changed? What if they found out she blabbed?”
Something I didn’t consider. It wasn’t foolish to consider the dastardly plan to off me could change. Maybe the weapon was changed. Maybe the time and place.
Maybe the date.
“I can’t let Avery get hurt,” I said quickly. Bink nodded from behind the kitchen island. “I can’t let her get into this. You know she’s going to try.”
“In her defense, she has saved your ass several times, you know.”
“I know, but this isn’t Quidditch anymore. This is real life with real blokes willing to leave me for dead in the middle of a field after beating me senseless.”
Bink took out a piece of parchment and scribbled something. He tied it to his owl’s leg and tossed it out the window. Literally tossed it right out the window. Like he was winding up to hit a Bludger.
“What’s that?” I said.
“We need a professional,” he replied.
“Look, James, we need to take care of this. Your father is doing what he can on his end, but it’s getting ruthless. The media is accusing you of everything under the sun and the fans are going to riot against you if we don’t take care of it.” Bink shrugged. “I’m saying we should take matters into our own hands.”
“How?” I flipped on the television and muted it. A commercial was playing for a blender.
“Find out what they’re planning.”
“You want to abduct Mason?” I said. “He probably has a guard now. Same with Twitwards. Flynn is in jail. He’s not going to sit down with me again and spew answers.”
Bink was quiet, but his eyes weren’t on me. They were over my shoulder.
“Maybe going to Fern won’t be necessary,” he said.
The door downstairs opened.
“I got your owl and brought what you said – what’s going on?” It was Freddie’s voice.
Bink nodded to the television and I turned. “We’re going under cover, boys.”
David Flynn released from Fern Prison after being pardoned by the Minister.
I hated lying to Avery, but this was one mission she couldn’t know about. It was too dangerous. I just got her back and I wasn’t letting her go. Not this soon.
We met in my bedroom for a tactical session and Freddie prepped the disguises. As he worked, he updated us on the situation at the hospital. Amy was getting better and let Freddie read to her for hours on end as she looked out the window. Sappy shit, but they liked it.
He didn’t stop grinning. I told him on our mission, there was no grinning.
“You can’t stop me from grinning,” he announced.
“I will kick you.”
“I’ll grin when you do it.”
Bink threw books at both of us. “How are the disguises coming?” he said.
Freddie nodded to the fabric. “We’re not going as women this time.”
“What? Isn’t that our thing?” I said.
“Until wigs fell at Avery’s practice,” he replied, shaking his head. “No, we need real disguises if we’re going to get to the bottom of this.” Fred tossed me a bunch of fabric and a zipper nailed me in the face. “What’s the plan, anyway? Who are we spying on?”
I paced, turning the dark fabric over in my hands. “Twitwards is a pawn in this. We don’t know where Flynn is, but I’ll bet he’s with Mason. He’s the ring-leader. He wants me to fail almost as bad as Flynn and he’s the one circulating nonsense in the Quidditch world while Flynn was in jail. It’s him we need to take down.”
“Tonight is tactical,” Bink explained. “We aren’t taking anyone out. We’re getting information so we can let Mr. Potter know. Then we’ll come up with a plan.”
“What if things go wrong?” Freddie asked, peeling off his shirt.
“Don’t panic and think about something else.”
“Like what?” I said, scoffing.
Bink shrugged and tossed his own shirt on my dresser. “I’ll think about how Rose got the internship in Greece and is leaving in three days. That should occupy me for a while.” He wore a smile. The worst kind.
Freddie and I exchanged looks, but said nothing.
It was time for a mission. We could make Bink talk about feelings later.
Latest intelligence (the “locked” drawer in Henrik’s office) told us Mason lived just outside London in a house passed down to him from his older brother. From the outside, it was a nice bachelor pad with a yard sporting overgrown grass and a bench.
“He doesn’t water his flowers enough,” said Freddie.
We approached from the south, crawling in the grass (thankfully, not mud) so we were shielded from view. There were two cars in the drive, but the sun made it impossible to see whether or not any lights were on.
Freddie was very smart for this mission. We weren’t in public, so we couldn’t blend in. We couldn’t be girls. We had to get information without being seen. At all.
He got us light camouflage with face paint. I really appreciated face paint. It was probably on the top of my list of things I appreciated.
After Falcon Cat and snogging Avery.
For the first time, Bink and Freddie were difficult to distinguish if I couldn’t see their eyes. Even their hair was covered in knit caps.
It was too hot for knit caps and I was sweating.
“Do you hear anything?” I hissed to Bink, who was ahead of me by a meter.
“Nothing,” he whispered.
We crawled and my elbowed sank into the dirt. Grass kept going up my nose, urging me to sneeze, but I held it in because do you think my father sneezed when battling Voldemort?
Maybe. I never asked.
Bink flattened the grass under the fence, which was thankfully three horizontal boards instead of a proper fence. He crawled through, followed by myself and then Freddie.
“Oh, a gnome!” Freddie said quickly, though excitedly.
“Shut it, Weasley. We’re getting close.” Bink had a lot of talents. I didn’t know one included crawling through long grass, but it was nice to know he knew what he was doing. His elbows were barely dirty. “Keep up.”
By the time we made it to the side of the house, under a window, we were winded. Lindt did not make us do enough crawling drills and I was wiped. I tried not to pant.
I was panting.
We pressed our backs against the siding and closed our eyes. Thankfully, there were people inside. Voices.
“It’s not like we can wait.” I didn’t recognize that voice.
“Obviously. Our cover in the league has been compromised and we’re holding on by threats and Potter’s idiocy right now.” That would be David Flynn himself. In the flesh. “Soon he’s going to have another goddamn fundraiser and win back the public.”
“Did you release the statement this morning, Emerson?” Mason. That one was Mason.
“I did, yes.” Twitwards.
I wondered what statement. All I heard was about Flynn being released. I didn’t hear a statement.
“Let’s see how Potter deals with that one,” Flynn said, chuckling. Even his chuckle was douche-y. “No matter. With his father poking around at the Ministry, this needs to happen swiftly. You have already made too many mistakes.”
“We have done exactly what you asked of us and are getting what you promised in return.” Mason sounded annoyed. I would be annoyed if I was hosting a criminal in my bachelor pad too. Couldn’t bring home the ladies for a while. Sorry, Mason. No manipulative dates with my wife.
Ha. My wife.
“You’ll get whatever I give you,” Flynn retorted. “And you’ll be grateful.”
Mason laughed coldly. “You will make sure Potter is permanently out of the game and make sure Emerson gets your daughter. That was your promise and you will deliver.”
“Are you threatening me, boy?”
“I am promising you,” Mason said.
There was a shifting of furniture and a few gasps.
“Let me make myself very clear,” David Flynn said. His voice was hushed. “I am taking care of Potter because his poking around landed me in jail after he notified Avery of what was going on. If you get to play in big-boy pants because of it, I couldn’t care less than I do at this very moment. You’re on your own there. I will not, however, have you threatening me. I promise those who do that do not live to tell the story.”
This was like a bad western movie. I pictured Flynn inside with cowboy boots and a pistol.
“Is that understood?” Flynn said.
Nothing, so I assumed nodding was happening. I didn’t see a flash of green light, so I knew that’s what happened.
“The plan has changed,” Flynn announced. “Tell no one. Your faults have led to too many people knowing and Potter has been warned. He’s looking for clues. He thinks he has another two weeks to whimper about. We’re taking him out.”
Bink and Freddie looked to me. I gulped.
“And Avery?” Twitwards said.
“I don’t intend on doing anything to my daughter,” Flynn said. “But if she puts herself in the line of fire, I don’t intend on sparing her because of stupidity.”
His daughter. Those are the words of a father.
In that moment, I remembered a time Avery and I were in her bedroom. We were around thirteen and stretched out on the carpet eating cheese and crackers. Her hair was back off her neck, knotted.
Avery flipped over the cracker box and snickered.
“What? Cracker humor?” I said, stuffing cheese in my mouth. Sans cracker.
“No. You could win a getaway.”
“Where? Canada?” I barely got the words out. I was a classy boy.
“It’s a wedding getaway. Like, you get the wedding of your dreams and then a honeymoon to some island with palm trees.” She shrugged. “I’ve never seen palm trees.”
“Probably have to be an adult to enter.”
Avery squinted at the fine print and nodded.
“Freddie said all girls plan their weddings when they’re like five. He just went out with Helena Arthur and she is wearing her mum’s wedding dress and wants to get married in wine country.” I grimaced. “Did you plan your wedding, Aves?”
She shook her head. “Not like that.” She took out another cracker and spread cheese across it. A little too hard, because it flaked into her lap. “Just little details.”
She shook her head. “It’s stupid.”
“That never stopped me,” I announced.
Avery laughed. “Fine. I want to get married outside. In the summer. In a strapless dress. And I want…” She trailed off, focusing on her cracker. I nudged her knee. Hard. “I want my father to walk me down the aisle.”
“Your father?” I wrinkled my nose, but then quickly unwrinkled it when I realized she was serious.
“Sure. I know he left when I was little, but he’s still my father, you know?”
I nodded. I didn’t really know. I harbored so much hate for a man I never met.
Just a few months later she took back everything she said in her bedroom that day. After a father-daughter fundraiser for Puddlemere. My father took Lily and asked Avery to come, but she faked sick. I visited her to find half the glass in her flat shattered against a wall.
As I sat listening to David Flynn talk about how he wouldn’t hurt Avery on purpose, but would let her hurt herself, I sank back to that day she wanted a father. A real father. Just someone to care about her and be there for her.
Also in that moment, I was positive I hated him more than he hated me.
No one hurts Avery. No one.
Chairs shifted against the floor and I guessed we were below the dining room window.
“Pleasure seeing you, August,” David said, I assumed to the voice I hadn’t recognized. “This time, how about we don’t blab half the plan when threatening the coach, hmm?”
“I apologize, Mr. Flynn. I didn’t know Cooper would spill while shagging some girl fresh out of the castle.”
My eyes bulged and I looked to Bink and Freddie. They caught the same thing.
Nia Baker was shagging Cooper Bradley. This August bloke threatened Cooper, which is why he wasn’t playing Avery.
I went back to the shagging and grimaced all over again.
Freddie nudged me. “August Wells?” he whispered.
I shrugged. “Who?”
“Owns the Tornados, Harpies, Falcons, and Finches.”
I kept thinking: How could this possibly get worse? I needed to stop thinking that because it kept getting worse.
David Flynn was working with the owner of multiple teams. Which was why Cooper wasn’t playing Avery. Why Lindt looked spooked for the first time.
Why I was on a downward spiral.
But what would Flynn have on someone like August Wells that made them work together? Surely Wells could have told Avery’s father to “stuff it, convict” instead? What was in this for him?
August cleared his throat. “Emerson, can I offer you a ride back into the city?”
“Please. My car hasn’t been working since it was stolen at the start of the summer.”
“Did you ever find the culprits?” asked August.
“No, sir. Though I’m sure karma caught up with them.”
August scoffed. “You can’t rely on karma, boy. You have to catch up with them.”
I rolled my eyes. Typical bastard. Little did he know, Twitwards knew it was us who stole his car and he left me to rot with roadkill as a result.
“Great advice, sir,” Twitwards said.
Flynn cleared his throat. “The first phase is in motion. Take care of it, Edwards.”
The door opened and shut. A car started in the garden and I waited to breathe until the engine was far enough to become a dull hum.
Mason cleared his throat. “August Wells is your eyes and ears in the league, as he should be given you were at Hogwarts together. Loyalty is important. He has half the coaches and managers aware of our situation. Emerson got you pardoned by the Minister. I have acquired all the necessary tools for our plan with Potter. Everything is fine. Won’t you relax?”
They were at Hogwarts together.
“You’re dismissed, Mason.”
“Yes, sir.” A door closed.
The room was quiet, so I leaned my head back onto the siding, thinking. This was more complicated than I could have imagined. Half the league was in on the plan to take me down and it didn’t look like they were involved because of their hatred of me. Flynn clearly had force, especially with August Wells involved. He must have made some pristine promises.
I didn’t have two weeks to win the public over. I didn’t have two weeks to do anything. It was going to happen soon. Possibly this weekend? Possibly tomorrow?
Though I now knew who was involved and how menacing the ordeal sounded, I was no closer to knowing what was happening and when it was going to take place.
The tone of Flynn’s voice made me expect the worst.
I had to talk to my father. I had to hide.
I had to fight?
I didn’t know what I had to do, but for the moment I was stuck to the side of Mason’s bachelor pad in pure fear.
And my allergies were acting up. What a time! I had important plot things to consider. When? Where? Would they come to my house? Or snatch me up after practice? Would Lindt even let me on the pitch? And what of Avery? It sounded like she would be there, or at least find out swiftly what happened to me. I didn’t want her to get involved. This wasn’t her war.
Though she would insist it was. It was her father.
How much did that really matter? He hurt her enough.
Bink jerked his head toward the way we came. We heard enough and Flynn wasn’t talking to himself, so there was little more we could learn.
I nodded. Freddie went first, crawling through the grass quietly, along the house in case Flynn went to the window for a view of trees and an unkept garden.
Then I sneezed, so that was inconvenient.
It happened fast. Flynn was at the window, his entire body leaning so he could spot the three of us. Bink with a furious expression. Me looking like an ass. Freddie staring over his shoulder, confused.
Flynn went for his wand.
Mason came flying out the door with his own wand.
There was only one thing to do and it was much easier now that I wasn’t wearing a dress.
“Run!” I shouted, scrambling to my feet and barely missing a hex from Flynn’s wand.
The grass went up in flames around me as I pressed my toes hard into the dirt. This wasn’t just running away from spying on Avery dating or trying to check up on her tryout. This was actually running from the bloke trying to off me.
Because I sneezed. I needed to have a conversation with my father about allergies in the heat of battle.
“Bloody – go!” Bink shoved me forward as he twisted to shoot a spell at Mason. It hit and Mason fell against the house in a lump. “Bloody git. Just because he isn’t that good at Quidditch – GET OVER YOURSELF.”
In that moment I kind of wanted to watch Bink kick the shit out of Mason.
Instead, I ran. I ran hard, tearing through the grass and leaping the fence before racing for the trees. Freddie shot hexes as well, though his missed. The grass was on fire. Smoke was everywhere. Flynn was screaming a lot of swear words, ordering Mason to do something quickly.
Mason was still being a lump, so he did nothing.
The door slammed. That had to be Flynn coming after us.
Maybe the plan was going to change again and it would end here – today.
“Go, James – faster!” Bink shoved me forward and into the trees as he fired hexes in the direction of the house. I couldn’t even see it anymore with the smoke and flames. My lungs ached from running.
I dodged a tree and followed Freddie. Eventually, my feet began to catch roots and my face paint began to leak down my face. Too much sweat. Still, Bink pushed us on.
“Is – he – following?” I gasped.
“Yes!” Bink cried. “And it appears he went running in Fern! GO!”
When was the last time I ran this much?
Never. That was the last time.
I leapt over a fallen tree and we cut to the right, toward our safe spot. “Wait!” I cried.
“What? WHAT?” Bink shouted.
“Remember last time?” I gasped, pushing off from a tree so I didn’t hit it head-on.
“Last time? You mean Avery’s tryout?” Bink said, firing a nasty-looking hex through the trees. Yellow light. Which one was that? Puss was probably involved.
“Yeah! Remember – the car – when we said we didn’t – have to steal it?”
“POTTER SPIT IT OUT.” Bink knocked his leg on a branch and cried out from pain.
I grabbed the back of Freddie shirt, halting him (and also choking him a bit – sorry). Bink ran into us full-force, but I grabbed his shirt at the collar.
I closed my eyes, spun, and apparated the fuck out of there.
We startled Falcon Cat when we arrived back at the flat, but I didn’t have time to console her. David Flynn knew where I lived. There was a protection spell on the grounds, but Mason got through it, so I was willing to bet he could do it again.
“I have to talk to my father,” I breathed, grabbing my knees to stop myself from being sick. Too much running. Too fast. Needed a nap.
“Now?” Bink said. He closed the blinds. “We need to think this out.”
“We lost that time when I sneezed,” I said. “Stay here. Bolt the door and put a spell on it. I’ll send a message up to let me in. This isn’t a plan anymore. This is in motion.”
To their credit, Bink and Freddie tried not to look concerned.
I tipped my knit cap and took the stairs two at a time.
The air was cooling as the sun went down. I saw no invaders, even though I expected to. When a bunny leapt out of the bush, it scared me senseless. I did some bizarre ninja move, but then felt like an idiot when I saw it.
Typical James Potter.
I shouldered the backdoor open. “Dad?” I called. “Mum? Urgent fuck-up by your eldest son!”
I received no answer.
“Albus?” I called. “Lily? Paloma? Wesley? TomCat?”
Nothing. No note on the fridge. I sniffed. That was an odd smell. Like burnt pie. I loved pie, but Mum knew not to burn it. Only Americans like AliCat liked things like burnt marshmallows.
I tugged open the oven. A severely overcooked pie was in there, so I flipped it off and tugged out the pan with mitts, setting it on the counter. The crust was a solid black and flaked when I poked it with a fork.
Mum wasn’t one to leave pies in the oven. Even if it was Albus baking for a sweater-vest party, he wasn’t one to mess things up either. Actually, the only person who would leave a pie in the oven in this house was me.
I drew my wand, stepping slowly into the living room. It was empty, but the window was open. A breeze blew back the sheer curtains.
That was normal. Right? Breeze? Window?
The television was on and a bowl of popcorn sat untouched in front of it. Popcorn was Lily’s favorite. She was never one to leave it alone. In fact, rather than share it with me, she would stuff a fist-full into her mouth.
I was momentarily distracted by the television, which was showing a commercial for a neat vacuum that knew which things were rubbish and which things (like receipts) needed to be saved. Very good product, I imagined.
I almost turned away when the regular programming started up, but once I saw my face, I couldn’t.
Granted, it was a great photo of me. Smirky. Looking like I ran the Quidditch league.
Then I realized why they decided on that particular photo.
I was getting sick of this breaking news bullshit.
POTTER FAMILY BEING HELD HOSTAGE BY ELDEST SON. WANTS CAPTAINCY OF TORNADOS OR LITTLE SISTER DIES.
First of all, who was going to believe that?
Second of all, I was much more likely to off my brother over a captaincy spot than my sister. She had to look after my Gryffindor legacy.
I shook my head. I WASN’T OFFING EITHER OF MY SIBLINGS.
Potter family held hostage? Where was I holding them hostage?
WHO THE FUCK WAS HOLDING MY FAMILY HOSTAGE?
A/N: Why, hello there. The crazy has been turned on (thanks for sneezing, James) and things are about to get crazier before they get calmer. James is just trying to get through being a rookie (if he ever gets to play) and here comes David Flynn trying to be a legit super-villain.
Get a day job, man.
Also, I finally got around to putting the cute Dobby ribbon on Breaking the Quidditch Code for its 2013 Dobby! Thanks again to those who nominated and voted - you're the best!
UP NEXT: James gets a phone call. A plan is made. James proves he is much more like Harry than he realizes.
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