Black // Marauders

37. Saving Mr Potter

Persie just lay on her back, staring at the ceiling thinking through everywhere he could be that wasn't dead in a ditch. She was struggling. She didn't even realise it was the middle of the day by the time her dad knocked on her door, "Pers?"

She didn't answer him, leading him to open her door a crack and peak in, "Pers, are you hungry?"

"No." She replied.

He took in her pale face, still in her clothes from yesterday as he dragged her desk chair over to the side of the bed and perched on it, "They'll find him, Pers. If anyone can, Moody can."

"If anyone can, I can. But I'm here." She replied a little more forcefully before shaking her head, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He insisted, before glancing towards her curtained window and then looking back at her, "Look, if we hadn't heard anything by this evening, we'll go to headquarters and get an update, okay?"

She nodded silently, rolling over in her bed to face her Dad before he stood up, "Cup of tea?"

She shook her head again as he dragged the chair away and headed for the kitchen, "Well, you're getting one anyway."

She lay in silence again, listening to him bustle about in the kitchen, flicking the kettle on and dragging mugs from the cupboard.

"James?" He shouted, before footsteps creaked on the ceiling in response and thudded down the stairs, "Yeah?"

"Do you want a tea?" He asked, "I'm making one for Pers."

"She awake?" James asked, his voice a little surprised. Persie could tell her was scratching his head.

"You can't really wake back up if you haven't slept, James." William muttered, as James sighed, "I'm gonna talk to her."

"You aren't." William said sternly, "Sit in there."

The living room door squeaked open and then closed as Persie's shoulders sank in relief. She hugged her duvet to her body and listened to the sound of spoons on ceramic.

"Dad!" James called. William tapped a spoon on the side, "What?"

"Alastor's in the fireplace! Says he wants you!"

Persie's eyes snapped wide and she shuffled out of bed, throwing away her tangle of sheets. She tore across her room, using the frame to skid into the kitchen.

Sliding across the floor, Persie burst into the living room, nearly getting carpet burn as she halted in front of the fire, "What's going on?"

"Pers-"

"Where is he?!" She shrieked, before pushing herself off the floor, "I'm coming over."

"Persephone!" The fire shouted as Persie stormed from the room, grabbing her jumper from the kitchen side on her route to the front door.

"Pers, where-"

The door slammed shut before William could finish talking. He appeared in the door frame and sighed, "Please tell me you've got him."

"We've got him." He confirmed and James let out a sigh of relief, "Thank god."

"I'll speak to you in a bit. I can hear Persie trying to batter the door down." And with that, Moody disappeared as James put his hand down in front of him and hastily recoiled.

"What?" William asked, sitting on the sofa next to him and James looked up with furrowed eyebrows, "The carpet's burned."

"Serves you right." He said, picking up the Daily Prophet, "You're bloody lucky they found him."