chapter three — that... that illness
December 29th, 1976
By the time Maurice had arrived at the Potter Manor the day after his little midnight adventure with James and Sirius, the sun was proudly shining high up in the sky. He raised his hand up to the metal door knocker, tapping it three times against the door. He bounced on his heels and the small jars in a wooden box he was holding rattled against each other. Just as the front door swung open, Maurice lost his balance causing the box to slip out of his grasp.
"Woah there," James heaved, leaning over and catching the box before it had a chance to meet the ground. "Everything okay?" He queried peering into the box.
Maurice thoroughly skimmed over the jars, making sure none of them were cracked. "All good," he replied. "Is your mum around?" He followed James into the foyer, despite Christmas being a couple of days ago they still had their decorations up. They normally would take them down once February started, but by that time the new term at Hogwarts would already be well underway. His grandmother, on the other hand, never put up any sort of decorations. Not even a small Christmas tree. Nothing.
Growing up, he would always ask her when they would be putting up the tree and fairy lights but every year she would give him the same response, never deviating from it. Never saying anything different. "Christmas is too tacky dear." He eventually gave up on asking, instead he would come help the Potters, and honorary Potter, decorate their tree in the last week of November. "Is Sirius home?" He asked once he noticed the lack of his presence.
"She's been waiting for you, actually. And no, he went to visit Remus." He responded. Maurice balanced the box in one hand reaching up to his head to pull off his knitted cap. James watched in amusement as his hair fell into perfect places; he averted his gaze the moment Maurice looked up.
"Mrs. Potter," he greeted as she wiped her hands on her gardening apron, "Sorry if I'm running a little late. I had some trouble finding the ingredients." This was true; before his departure from home, Maurice had ransacked Ethel's stash of ingredients. He doubted she would miss any of them
"Oh don't you worry about it dear," she exclaimed. "I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to help me." They followed her through a kitchen with windows covering an entire wall, allowing the sunlight to flood the room. "James here is always rambling on about your natural talent for potions," she added.
Maurice couldn't help but smile at the news, while James groaned. "Mum!" He casually glanced outside the window, trying his best to disguise his flushed cheeks.
They followed her like a pair of ducklings as she led them out to the greenhouse, where Euphemia spent half of her time. Maurice's favourite story was about how his mum met Euphemia, a story she had told too many times. Maurice knew it by heart. It was the third week of their fourth year attending Hogwarts. Peony was struggling to safely collect pus from a Bubotuber, which resembled a large, slimy, black slug. After many failed attempts, Euphemia offered her a hand. The rest was simply history
They followed after her like a pair of ducklings, she led them out to the greenhouse where Euphemia spent half of her time. Maurice's favourite story was how his mum met Euphemia, who told the story too many times, to the point where he could recite it word for word. It was the third week of their fourth year studying at Hogwarts. Peony was struggling to safely collect bubotuber pus from a Bubotuber, which resembled a large, slimy, black slug. After many failed attempts at harvesting the pus, Euphemia offered her a hand. Then the rest was simply history.
Their friendship is the reason Euphemia continues to pursue a hobby in Herbology, in hopes that one day she could have tea with her old friend and catch up on the time they lost. Mainly she wished Maurice could experience having a mum, and father too someday.
Light trickled in from the glass ceiling, vines crept up the support beams. An assortment of wildflowers found home, scattered around in planters of all sizes, their petals growing outward to the sun. A flutterby bush, which James and Maurice had nicknamed Mr. Wilbur when they were seven, after a character from a muggle children's book they once read.
"You can set the box over there," Euphemia pointed at the table where she cared for any sick or dying plants; she always did her best to nurse them back to health. James instinctively took the box out of Maurice's hands before he could protest.
"What's all this for anyway?" James asked.
Euphemia crouched down, picking up a Chinese Chomping Cabbage plant, which are normally green in colour, but this plant had a yellow tint to it. "I've had this plant way before you boys were born, well not the exact one but it's offspring." Maurice could tell the plant was dying, not by its colour but because it had no reaction when she dangled a carrot in front of its mouth.
"Merlin, I hate those things," James grimaced at the sight of the plant. "Bloody thing almost tore off my finger a couple of years ago in Herbology class," he muttered, Maurice held back his laughter.
"It wouldn't have tried to bite you if you didn't poke at it," Maurice argued.
James held up his arms in surrender. "Blame Sirius, he was the one who dared me to do so."
With a light flick of her wand, the heavy cauldron floated in the air as if it was as light as a feather. "Do you think this is enough Mrs. Potter?" Maurice queried as he twisted the lids of the jars spreading them out on the table. Meanwhile James climbed up on a table that was across the one they were at, legs dangling.
"Yes, I think it will be," she replied. With that he, got to work. Maurice meticulously measured out a mysterious orange liquid before pouring it into the cauldron. He then tossed in kelp among some other ingredients he brought in causing the liquid to bubble. Truly, watching Maurice get lost in his thoughts as he mixed in ingredients was a sight to behold.
Half an hour had gone by, and finally, the growth potion was ready to be used. On normal occasions wizards and witches never used growth potions on dying or sickly plants; most thought it was a waste of time and ingredients. He handed the small vial to Euphemia, who thanked him before pouring a couple of drops over the chomping cabbage.
They all gathered around the potted plant, watching with anticipation, waiting for something to happen— anything. Then, the plant doubled in size, shattering the clay pot it called home. The familiar shade of green returned to the leaves. "Brilliant." Euphemia remarked, staring down at the plant with amazement written across her face.
"Bloody hell." James mumbled to himself, taking a step closer to examine the plant. "This, this is amazing Maurice." He added.
After their success in the greenhouse, Euphemia invited Maurice to stay for supper, but he politely declined. He had promised his grandmother he would be home by supper time, which was at half past eight, and if he left now, he could make it on time. "Thank you so much, dear. Have a safe walk home," she declared. He nodded in agreement. 'Come back anytime you please; you know our doors will always be open to you.
James walked with him to the front door and pulled his coat off the coat hanger handing it over to him. "Hey, don't forget you still owe me a rematch." He pointed as Maurice stood in the doorway, buttoning up his coat.
"Such a bloody sore loser you are," he chuckled to himself standing in the doorway letting the cold breeze run rampant throughout the foyer. "How about New Years?" He suggested.
"Oh you're on, good night Reece."
"Good night James," he waved, walking down the steps before stopping at the bottom, looking up at the boy standing in the doorway. "Oh and James," he stated. "Please do not touch that plant. Not even if Sirius dares you again, because then you'll really lose a finger."
The corners of his lips slowly turned upward, forming that classic James smile which had the power to brighten up anyone's day. "I promise I won't," he leaned on the doorway. "Have a safe walk."
The branches above whistled in the frigid breeze, the white blanket of snow beneath him bearing the marks left behind by his boots. As he started the walk back home, he dragged his feet with every step, knowing the life that awaited him once he set foot in the front door.
Merlin, Maurice felt sick to his stomach every time he came home from the Potters'. He was constantly lying to their faces (for an entire month to be exact) about what he had become, about the horrendous mark on his forearm. He had lost hours of sleep, tossing and turning in bed trying to come to a conclusion: keep up the facade as if nothing happened on November thirteen, or tell the truth and lose them.
He brought up his knuckles to the door, knocking three times, as he usually would. He waited for someone to open the door, anyone. After a few moments of standing out in the unforgiving cold night the door swung open. "Ah! Master Maurice!" Tobbs exclaimed, his face lighting up.
"Hello Tobbs!" He hunkered down in front of Tobbs with a smile plastered across his face. "Is nan around?" He queried, unraveling the scarf around his neck and hanging it by the door.
He didn't respond; instead, he looked over Maurice's shoulder with a vacant expression written across his face. "You are late," her shrill voice reverberated off the walls, while the man in the portrait snarled something from across the room. "I allow you to spend time with that family, and this is how you repay me?" She folded her arms across her chest.
"I-I'm only late by a couple of minutes, nobody was answering the door," he began to explain, but it was obvious she didn't care. "I'm sorry," he stated, his head hanging low.
"Do you really think I like being harsh with you, dear?" she queried, walking with him into the kitchen. Dirty dishes and empty wine glasses were spread throughout the table. She didn't wait for him to start eating.
"No, Nan," he responded.
"Please, do not ever be late again, dear." She walked across the room, picking up an empty wine glass, and with a simple movement of her wand, rich wine quickly filled up her glass. "I'll have Tobbs bring supper up to your room; now go wash up."
"Thank you," he said, rushing up the stairs past the man in the portrait before he could start throwing any insults his way. Every time, he walked down the narrow hallway that led to his bedroom, he always passed his mum's childhood bedroom, and his mind wandered away every single time he did.
With a sigh of relief escaping his lips, he hung his coat back into the wardrobe. He walked over to his desk where he kept parchment paper, quills, and ink— the essentials for writing letters. Hello, mum and dad... he began as he normally did. After half an hour of writing, there was a soft knock from the door. "Come in!" he shouted.
"Master Maurice, Tobbs has brought you supper," he announced, walking over to where he was sitting, and setting the plate full of food in front of him. "Are you writing letters again, Master Maurice?" he queried.
"I am, but please don't tell my nan." Tobbs quickly nodded his head in agreement. "One day when I find my mum and dad, I'm gonna give them that box," he pointed at a box that was tucked way atop his wardrobe, hidden under some boxes. "So they can read about the days they missed with me."
"Tobbs would like to meet Master Maurice's parents one day," he stated. Maurice thanked him as he walked out of his bedroom, he wished him a good night's rest before closing the door behind him
He quickly finished eating before he changed into his pajamas. After two hours of tossing and turning in bed, he crawled out of bed and began looking through his bookshelves. It was silly, and Maurice knew it, carrying that book around like a toddler carries around a blanket. To his dismay, it was nowhere to be seen. Which could either mean one of two things, Tobbs accidentally returned it to the library, or his grandmother found it. He hoped it was the former.
"Merlin." He spoke to himself, slowly turning the doorknob, poking his head out into the hallway looking in every direction possible. He knew he shouldn't be out of bed past his curfew but having that book in his hands, in the room even, was enough to calm him down.
In the dead of night, he tiptoed down the hallway and then down the stairs until he was at the door that led into the library where he took the Dark Mark. He hadn't been in there since that day, but he needed that book. Once again, he looked around, hoping nobody would be wandering. He knew if anyone saw him out of his bedroom, they would rush to alert his grandmother. By the grace of Merlin's beard, everyone seemed to be sound asleep, with the exception of him, of course
He wandered into the library, warm ashes resting in the fireplace, a clear sign that a fire was raging on earlier. Knowing his grandmother, she was probably entertaining her guests before he came home. In a rush he quickly scanned the shelves closes to the ground hoping the book would grab his attention,
No luck.
Then, as he brought his hand to the back of his neck, he spotted it: on the opposite side of the room, on the very top shelf. A smile laced with victory spread across his face as he sprung into action. He tugged on the iron rail of the sliding ladder, but it wouldn't budge, no matter how hard he pulled. There was only one solution left for him; he clenched his fists, knowing he was about to break a promise he made to his grandmother. Quickly, he shrugged it off; there was no way she was going to find out, not this late at night
He ethereally floated in the air, reaching out his hand and pulling the book out of its hiding place, holding it near his chest. A massive weight was instantly lifted from his shoulders now that the book was, once again, in his possession. Everything froze around him when a voice came from the other doorway of the library. "Blimey," the man said in amazement or disgust, Maurice couldn't tell, before quickly walking away
"Wait!" He shouted with his arm stretched out in front of him. That feeling came crawling back, he could feel his own heartbeat racing as his mind ran through every possible scenario. Hopefully, the man would go straight to his bedroom, pretending he witnessed nothing. But he knew that wouldn't happen.
Time moved at a glacial pace, a lump formed in his throat and no matter how many times he tried to push it down, it wouldn't budge one bit. He could feel his heartbeat racing at an alarming rate, beads of sweat formed across his forehead. There was nothing he could do, nothing besides sitting down on a sofa by the fireplace.
"You bloody imbecile!" A sharp voice snapped him out of his thoughts, he couldn't even bring himself to face his grandmother. "Not only did you disobey my one rule, but you let one of my guests see that... that illness." The veins on her forehead were pulsating. "I don't know what to do with you anymore."
He swallowed before he spoke, holding the book behind his back. "Nan I-I can explain." Tears quickly swelled up in his eyes, his jaw was shaking at an uncontrollable speed he could barely form a proper sentence. "I made sure nobody was awake—" She quickly raised her hand, striking his cheek with a sharp motion.
"Save it dear, I am not interested in hearing your excuses tonight." She gritted her teeth leaning in closer to the boy who was sinking into the sofa, trying his best to disappear. He held up both of his trembling hands to his now bloodshot cheek, hoping the pain would subside. "I am sure you'll learn your lesson after tonight." A thin smile crept up on her face as she squeezed his ear between her index finger and her thumb, forcing him up on his feet.
Maurice winced in pain as a stream of tears leaked out from the sides of his eyes. "Please, Nan, I'm sorry," he managed to utter amidst sobs. Pleading was utterly useless, especially when his grandmother was upset with him.
"I don't want to hear a another word out of you." She snarled, tightening her grip on his ear. Just before the crossed the threshold of the hallway, in his peripheral view, Maurice caught a glimpse of red. The book, his most valued possession, left behind on the sofa.
—————
authors note, the first half of this chapter owns my heart, also that ending hello?? 🫢🫢