Unintentional Discovery Date: Thursday, August 21 2001 Time: Middle of the day Location: 12 Grimmauld Place Characters: James Potter and Regulus Black
Where on earth was that blasted cloak?
They'd taken it out, to cast that phoenix in the sky. James could have sword Sirius had held it last, but they were both rather distracted by congratulating each other that James had trouble recalling. And that was why James was rummaging around the closet in Sirius' room; on his hands and knees trying to make sense of just how organized Remus kept things. It may have once been Regulus' room, but as far as James was concerned, Sirius' room was <i>his</i> room, and this room was Sirius and Remus' room. After all, they were the ones who lived there now. Grimmauld Place was home to the Marauders, not the House of Black. Or so he thought.
If he had thought about it, he'd have used his wand to either summon the blasted thing or to illuminate the closet. But as it was, in the relative darkness his groping hands found a loose panel against the back of the closet. And if he'd really been thinking, he would have reasoned that hidden compartments in the bedrooms of the house's previous occupants might not be the best place to explore on a whim - but James had spent most of the day at work, and his thoughts were rather more consumed with the musical progression of David Bowie than where he ought not be placing his hands. And so it was that when his fingers extracted a cool, silky black cloak, he did not immediately recognize what he held. In fact, it wasn't until that grisly skull mask tumbled onto the floor in front of his knees that he was aware of the fact that he was holding a Death Eater's cloak. Regulus' cloak. And mask.
James fought the tremor that threatened to expel his lunch from his stomach, knuckles growing white as he gripped the fabric warming in his hands. Sirius couldn't know that this was here. James could barely tolerate knowing it was there. And he'd be damned if he was going to tuck it back away. This was the sort of shit that had to be destroyed, to be purged. The idea of watching the cloak and mask go up in flames warmed the chill that these artifacts had inspired in his flesh. Probably best to wait for Sirius. He'd like to see them burned, James reckoned. Bunch them up, James stormed from the room, his own cloak forgotten. Not willing to bear them in the house he considered his home, James tossed them into the back yard through the first available window on his way downstairs.
Lily was at the pub. Sirius was at the garage. Remus was at the shop. Fuck, employment had never seemed like a worse idea. And so James began to drink. Firewhiskey.