The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

The Walls Are Caving In

Long after Frank finally went and sat back down at the desk, unable to do anything else, Sirius was still pacing. He was still pacing after Frank finally fell asleep late into the night. Sirius finally stumbled into the center of the cell and he sat on the floor, legs crossed, holding his ankles, rocking himself, looking around from one corner of the ceiling to the other, watching for signs of cracks in the stone, for dust to fall, for the ceiling and walls to come in... any moment now... They were moving closer together, they would come up and squeeze the life out of him...

"Don't be scared, Sirius," Achlys whispered. "You aren't alone... you've got me..." but the words weren't comforting, they were sinister, and Sirius whimpered. "You've always got me," Achlys said.

Harry Underhill sat behind his desk in his office, pouring over the memo Moody had sent him on the giant attacks in Northern Ireland, a mug of coffee at his elbow, and a pastry beside it. He picked at his teeth with his little finger as he read through the description of damages.

His office door opened and he glanced at his watch to see it was precisely eight o'clock.

James Potter walked into the office, his wool grey uniform pants freshly pressed, the thick belt about his waist, the Ministry for Magic logo centered against his abdomen, embroidered onto the belt in shining silver thread. His white oxford shirt was fitted, buttoned neatly, save for the top four buttons, which he'd left undone so that the shirt parted and his collar bone showed. Black leather holster-style suspenders came 'round his shoulders, squaring him off, and in the leather had been worked a holster for his wand, which peeked out from its place against the side of his chest. His wool coat and dark purple and silver threaded vest hung over his arm. He carried a box under the other arm.

James glanced over at his boss as he stepped to the desk that he'd inhabited for the better part of the Summer and Autumn months of the year before, and dropped his box on top of the desk before tossing his vest and coat over the chair.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Underhill murmured.

"Good morning, Mr. Underhill," James answered. He opened his box and reached inside.

Underhill watched out of the corner of his eyes as James set up a small collection of picture frames on the desk, one of Lily and him at their wedding, one of his mother, one of Remus and Sirius. He refilled the drawers with supplies he'd taken home with him last time he'd been there - quills and a biting eraser from Sirius. When he was finished, he magicked away the box and sat down, put his quill and ink pot in place, and took a deep breath. 

James looked over at Underhill, who had looked down to keep from being caught watching his assistant set up.

"Ready for duty, sir," James said. "What have you got for me?"

Underhill didn't even look up. "See the envelope in your inbox?"

He hadn't noticed it, but James plucked it up from the tray now, "Yes, sir."

Underhill said, "Deliver that to the auror on duty in the holding cell block on lower level 4. You're to escort the prisoner home."

"And then?"

"That's it. That's your day's work."

James hesitated. "So... you had me come in... just to go get Sirius."

"Yes. Have a good day, Mr. Potter."

James stared at Underhill for a count of about fifteen seconds, then opened the envelope, saw the signed papers of release for Sirius Black, and bolted out of his chair. He was all the way to the door when Underhill cleared his throat. "Your coat, Potter?"