James was a desperate man, and his desperation had been known to lead to poor decisions, so he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he needed help. He needed someone else to help him make the choices that, at the moment, he was too desperate to decide upon clearly enough. The most important people in his life had become targets. Had it been he and he alone whose life was threatened? A laugh, a shrug, never another glance over his shoulder. But Albus, Arlo, Lily? How could he save them all?
So he sat in the back office of a pub, the owner of which he’d known for ages and had allowed him to place a silencing charm over the room. When Mikhail arrived, James shot out of his seat. There was no longer time for his fear of being inadequate in front of the Professor. He needed things to be done. “Mikhail,” he said, nodding his head before taking his seat again. “I need a more clear headed opinion on what our next move is. I need... information, I need to keep my family safe. You’re my best soldier, or... whatever you’d like to call yourself. We need to do something about the letter.”
@mikhailpetrov