THE CRUCIATUS CURSE
On the other side of the working table sat a woman dressed in a black robe with her grey hair combed back into a tightened bun.
"Someone", she said without bidding him welcome, "has come into the habit of sneaking around the castle at night. So I propose that you give me the Invisibility Cloak so I can keep it safe for you until the Christmas holidays. When you take it home and don't bring it back."
He stared at her without ejaculating a word.
"I'm not stupid, Potter", she continued, a bit more fiery. "How could it be in any other way if Filch or even Peeves don't notice it?"
He swallowed nervously. This wasn't what he had expected. His gaze flickered and left her severe face. The walls in the room were decorated in portraits of old headmasters. A man with long white hair and horn-rimmed spectacles caught his attention. The man's mouth seemed to smile amusingly. But his eyes were closed.
"Look at me when I speak to you", Professor McGonagall said sharply and he gave a start. "To sneak around..."
But he didn't listen because he saw a movement in one of the paintings. Black hair that hung in greasy wisps down a sallow face. The eyes over the aquiline nose stared back at him.
"Potter", the headmistress said with the same sharpness, but he couldn't tear his eyes of the man. On the painting next to him, Dumbledore opened his astoundingly blue eyes and looked as if he was about to say something. But Snape overtook.
"Potter", he said drawling which made Professor McGonagall turn around in the straight-backed chair. Snape's lips curled into a scornful smile. "Exactly like your father, he used to strut about..."
"My father didn't strut!" Without noticing it, he had risen from his chair so quickly that it now fell to the floor. He glared back at the man in front of him, and the sudden anger disappeared. "He named me after you. After you and Professor Dumbledore. Albus Severus Potter."
Snape's face distorted into something that reminded of nausea and then left the painting. Albus breathed out and once again sat down in the chair, which Professor McGonagall had risen with her wand. He didn't apologize but looked down at the tabletop. He couldn't induce himself to meet Dumbledore's eyes. If his father found out how he had treated Professor Snape, what would he do then? It was bad enough as it, without him having to behave rudely in front of Professor Dumbledore.
"To sneak around", Professor McGonagall continued, as if nothing had happened, "is..."
"Sometimes absolutely necessary", Dumbledore concluded.
Albus took the liberty to smile. "And why is that, Professor Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore responded to his smile, and question, with a gentle nod towards McGonall. Albus turned his gaze to her, and found that her severe face had become even more serious.
"I can't see how that could be", she said, and folded her hands in her lap.
Albus decided that he had to take the chance.
"I know the rules, Professor, and I'm not asking you to make any exceptions..."
"There's no rules without exceptions."
He continued, as if he hadn't heard Dumbledore. "But maybe, if you hear the reason..."
"Potter, I am not interested in any of your excuses. You have been unveiled, and must take the consequences."
He struggled against the will to not obey her. "How can you say it was me, and not someone else?"
That seemed to be the logical question she had waited for, because she nodded slowly. "I wasn't. Not until now, when you unmasked yourself."
He swallowed. How could he have been so stupid?
"Professor, how can you know that anyone has been sneaking around?"
"Small noises from the Restricted Section. Now, Potter, do I think we're done. I take ten points from Gryffindor, and if you're walking around the castle at night one more time I'll have to call your parents. Go to Professor Longbottom the first thing you do tomorrow, and give him the cloak. Good afternoon, Mr Potter."
When Albus caught up with Rose in the corridor outside the classroom, she saw that his cheeks glowed.
"I've been gormless", he exclaimed, but quietly, "Professor McGonagall know I've been in the Restricted section without permission."
Rose felt as if he had poured out a bucket with cold water over her. "What did she say?" she whispered as they sat down near the rostrum.
He quickly told her what had happened, including his meeting with Snape and Dumbledore in the paintings, and ended the retelling with the desperate question: "What do we do now?"
She frowned. "It's obvious. You give the Cloak to them and we don't leave our beds anymore at night. Oh, you're sure she doesn't know that I've been with you? I hope this doesn't affect the grades..."
"Oh, this is poetic justice", he whispered back. "I'm punished because I try to help... It's easy for you to say that we'll just stop, but we haven't found anything and if you haven't forgotten, this can be important -"
"Mr Potter, may I remind you that the lesson has started?" Their professor, new for this school year, had been irritated on Al since the term started. He had proved her wrong during one of her lessons and since that it was as if she had to reprove him as soon as she could, or else she'd not feel respected by the other students.
"I'm sorry, Professor Bulstrode."
He'd heard that she'd been in Slytherin in the same form as his dad. However, she seemed to be much older than him, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. When Rose had told her dad that Bulstrode was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he had asked if this professor's first name happened to be Millicent. When she said yes, he'd laughed and asked if she was as pretty as she'd been over twenty years ago. Albus hadn't understood what was so fun about it, she surely wasn't plushy, but she was way better than the professor they'd had last year, or the one the year before... For this class, she was actually a quite good teacher. Still, he was sure she wouldn't stay until the next year. She told them weekly that they weren't worth her time.
However, her lessons were confusing. She had a bad habit of speaking mealy-mouthed when telling the simplest facts. More than once, the students had had to guess what she meant, and her tests weren't better. What Albus had learned during this term, had he learned by reading the book, not listening by her. And she taught them more about how to avoid dangers, than how they'd practically should do when facing some sort of Dark Art.
Albus left the classroom with Rose and one of her friends, a blonde girl named Adriana Boot. Rose and Adriana talked about what they wanted to do during the Christmas holiday, while Albus tried to figure out what do to with the problem Professor McGonagall had given him. Which teacher could he ask for a signature from, so he'd be allowed to search the library? No one, really. So there was only one thing left to do. To use to Cloak as much as he could until he had to hand it over to Professor Longbottom. Maybe he would find something he and Rose hadn't noticed before... He wouldn't tell her, because she'd only be worried and try to stop him from breaking the rules. He had to do this, and if she wasn't going to help him, if she cared more about her grades than of him, well, then he'd do this without her. It wasn't that he liked to sneak behind her back, and maybe be pushed to lie to her about it. It was just that this was too important for him to give up.
Hannah Longbottom laughed a little bit too loud at his joke, so loud that James reacted with an embarrassed smile. Roxanne met Lucy's eyes which resulted in both of them guffawing. Hannah abruptly became silent when she noticed James grimace, and blushingly turned and run down the corridor.
"Enjoying yourselves?"
Roxanne slowly turned around in the thought the voice was a teacher's. Instead she found herself standing face to face with the palest boy she had ever seen. The young man's eyebrows were raised and his mouth half-open. When no one answered him, he continued with the same light voice:
"You shouldn't do like that, you know. Not just because her father is a Professor."
'"And you are - ?" James managed to sound bored and amused at the same time: an intonation which made most people unsure. This boy, however, didn't stutter at all when he exclaimed:
"You're Harry Potter's oldest son." The change his face went through was astounding. A glimpse of … Lucy would have said "fear" but could that be? All reproach had vanished from his pallid eyes, and he stepped back, as if the discovery affected him physically.
"I know whose son I am", James said angrily, dangerous near the point when he would lose his temper.
"He didn't ask you who he is, nitwit." Lucy leaned closer to the stranger. "He asked you who you are." While Lucy had spoken, the boy had dropped his eyes to the floor, and now his gaze flickered. He opened his mouth, but not a word left his lips.
Roxanne never heard the footsteps this time either but suddenly James' best friend Quincey had his arms around her waist. "Shame on you", he said and smiled archly. "Don't you see what that is?" He released his hold of Roxanne and wrinkled his noise. Then he slowly approached the boy, sniffing. James gave a short laugh which his friend returned with a wide grin. Lucy seemed confused until Roxanne chose to fall into her normal part in their games.
"Sly thing", she whispered theatrically.
"On the sly, he does many dirty things", Lucy continued, not too ingenious. Quincey smirked when the boy took another step back.
"I'm not in Slytherin." It almost sounded like a question.
"Your name", James repeated.
The answer came in a whisper. "Lorcan Noble."
"Noble? Are you noble? Are you a noble? Are -"
"Oh, shut up Lu, will you!" James lowered his voice and spoke only to Lorcan when his friend had understood his signal and brought Roxanne and Lucy down the corridor. "Are you Luna Lovegood's son?"
He nodded, still cautious.
"In which house?"
"Ravenclaw. I began in the middle of this term because mum and dad travel a lot, so I've been to a lot of schools. But mostly I've studied alone at home. Or not home, I mean, when you're on the roads every place you come to is like your home." He took a deep breath and lifted his head. His eyes almost looked white when they looked fixedly at him. When he spoke once again, his voice was clearer. "I'm sorry but I really can't stand when people make fun of others, just because that satisfies their stuck-up egos."
He had to admire him for his courage, notwithstanding that it at the same time irritated him that he didn't respect him more. He didn't even seem to regret his last words. His skin, a colour between milk and mother-of-pearl, did such a powerful contrast to his loud trinkets and black garment. James took a closer look at the strange boy. He was fade without being wan. His hair, long and curly, had the same colour as Dumbledore's on the photos he had seen, but much more shiny. Indeed his mother's son, according to his parents' descriptions.
"And now your parents are in Britain?" he asked as he began to walk. Lorcan fell into his steps as he led their way through the corridor.
"Yes. They're visiting my grandfather." When the strange boy didn't say anything more, James tried in a different angle.
"And you plan to graduate here?"
Lorcan wrinkled his noise, and looked at James from the corner of his eyes. "Yes."
They walked down the corridor in silence until Lorcan abruptly announced that he had to hurry to his lesson and ran away in the other direction. James stared at him before continuing to the Great Hall.
"Obtrusive boy, that one", Lucy declared during the noon meal.
"He'll learn soon enough." Quincey emphasized his words by raising his hand to Roxanne's hair.
James thoughts wandered, as always in these awkward situations, to Naomi. If anyone ever figured out what he felt for her, he'd be destroyed. It was Roxanne saying Naomi's last name, Hart, that drew him back to the reality.
"That cheap bitch", Roxanne exclaimed with disdain. "She's together with Wardle now."
It was Quincy's turn to stiffen, in his case because of Wardle's name. "That fawning, namby-pamby…"
"You know what, guys? Sometimes I wonder if the old hat didn't make four big mistakes when he sorted us. It's totally clear that we all belong to Slytherin, so slithering as we are." He left the table without having touched his meat loaf.
Oh! Even if he dared to speak with her, his friends would repudiate him. Despite him. But why did he care about that? He was worried about something much bigger, something much more important. The fact that he never could let his family down. Not more then he already had. But she, Naomi, had never looked at him, so he didn't have to worry. In fact, nothing would ever happen, so his behavior was exaggerated.
"Oh, just look. Potter's pottering around. Alone."
"So are you, Scabious."
And to James' defense we have to admit that Wardle drew his wand first.
"You're in my way, Potter." He smiled scornfully. "And your master, why isn't he here? Didn't think pooches left their owners. Bad cur."
James rolled his eyes. He had difficulties with keeping back the laughter. Secretly, he now thanked Lorcan, because he had just taught him something important. He had immediately found one of his sore points. And he should make use of that new skill.
"Heard about your new hussy, Scabby." He didn't recognize his own voice. Could he sound so cold and callous? "How long has she been unfaithful to you?"
Wardle's wand flicked quickly, but James was prepared and parried the unspoken spell. In the next moment, James had cried out a spell which Wardle easily had avoided. James heard shouting and hurrying steps. He saw Quincy try to get through the mob, and some of Wardle's friends do the same, but right now they were too far away. He still had some time.
"Appetite her, do you?" Wardle's face was white with fury.
"As a dog, I see her as a pretty good piece of flesh."
Wardle did a lunge towards James with a roar. The mob was so close that he hadn't any escape route.
"Serpensortia! See if you handle this better than your daddy did."
He just stared at the snake. Of course he had heard this story, as so many others, but what had his father done to get rid of the animal? Talked to it. What he knew, he couldn't talk parsel. When his father was in this situation, a teacher had helped him out of the mess.
"Impedimenta!" The snake tossed and slowly turned in the air before it hit the floor and once again coiled towards him. Stupid. Couldn't he do better?
"Send a friend to beat me, do you, Scabby? Afraid to meet me by yourself?" The snake was very close now, so close that he could see its fluttering tongue.
"Incendio!" The snake immediately caught fire and disappeared in a granular smoke. Quincy finally stood by his side, screaming at Wardle: "Just what to expect from you. A snake, your -"
"Serpensortia! Geminio!" The new one duplicated itself into dozens of snakes. The students elbowed each other to get away from the animals, which left a space for James so he could move.
"Evansco!" James desperately cried and stiffened. In slow motion, he saw Wardle cast a spell over Quincy, and tried to ward it off, but didn't have the time.
"Crucio!" Quincy's voice rang in his ears while Wardle's body winced. First, he thought that the spell hadn't worked – that Quincy hadn't really meant what he had said. Then, Wardle started to shake. His face contorted and the sinews in his neck stood out. His eyes rolled when he fell to the floor, stiff, with foam lathering down his chin.
"No! Make it stop!" Naomi's heartbreaking scream was heard above the terrified shrieks. She tried to break through, but someone held her back. James felt as if he was in a fog. He knew what was going on, but couldn't see anything clear. Then, like a candle-flame dies, Wardle became still, and the fog lifted. Crying and murmuring. And Naomi, beating him furiously.
"You just stood there, your devil!" Her voice broke when she fell to her knees. She brushed Wardle's greasy hair from his forehead. Dully, James turned around to find out why Naomi had attacked him instead of Quincy. He was gone. Then Lucy stood by his side, pulling his sleeve.
"Come, James, come. You'd better go no, reporting to the headmistress. Someone took Quincy to the wards, don't worry."
"But … Wardle?" He shivered.
"It's the chock making this to you", she explained, still pulling his sleeve. "He'll get help, I saw the pale boy running away. Come now." She led him upstairs, uninterruptedly talking. "Now I was right about that Naomi-rabble as well. Why didn't she run for help, hum?"
James didn't answer. He had plenty to do trying to not stumble. He felt dizzy.
"Christmas holidays in two days. Glad to come home, aren't you?"
He still didn't answer. Lucy left him at the staircase, promising she would wait until he came back. He raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open before his hand touched the door. He stepped inside, still unsure if it all was a bad dream.
"Mr Potter", the headmistress greeted. "Your parents will be here any minute."
He struggled to think of what she had said. "Why?" he managed to ask.
"You are our chief witness and I thought it best they'd come. You're in chock."
At that very moment his parents closed the door behind them and walked to the desk. They looked faint. She worried and he resolute.
"Are you all right?" his mother asked. He just shook his head, incapable to meet her eyes or answer her. His father whispered something to her, but James couldn't hear the words.
"James", he said, coming closer. "James, I -"
"James! I've always tried to be like your father! That's what you wanted, why did you name me after him otherwise. Al is so much like you, everyone says so. And they also points out that Lily's a mix of mum and our grandmothers. Even Ted makes you smile proudly." He gasped for air, but did not hesitate. "But what about me? I'm sure you understand what expectations people have on me. Every bloody friend of you and mum is famous – been a member of D.A. and fought in the Battle of Hogwarts." He gazed into the headmistress' face and to Harry's fright. A cold laughter slipped over his lips. "When the Chosen One writes to his first-born, he asks how Hagrid's old pumpkins are doing and if Professor Longbottom has got his invitation for the holidays -"
"I'm sure he..." Professor McGonagall interrupted abruptly.
"Knew about it? He's spying on me, that's what you're saying?"
The silence that followed his son's accusations scratched Harry's ears in a way James' outbursts of rage never had done before. Ginny squeezed his hand so firmly that he nearly panted. He desperately tried to figure out something to say, but his head was empty. Finally Professor McGonagall spoke, with professional words as always, but in a voice that almost sounded sentimental. She fixed her eyes on James.
"Mr Potter, please leave your family businesses outside this matter. Your friend, Mr. Bowmaker, has, inside the walls of my school, used one of the forbidden curses, the Cruciatus curse, on a schoolmate. Mr. Potter, please tell us what happened."
"What if I had made it? Would my father's name have saved me then? Quincy hasn't that privilege." James voice was full of grief. "You know what? I'm faithful to my friends. When he's expelled I'll stand by his side."
"James, no! You don't know what you're saying."
"Mrs. Potter, please calm down! No one has said anything about expelling Mr Potter." McGonagall cleared her throat and opened the massive door with a flick of her wand. The witnesses entered, and even in this grave situation they all stared at Harry.
A short boy informed that the Slytherin-boy had started, but first James had insulted his girlfriend.
"Insulted?" Professor McGonagall asked the chubby boy, but he just shook his head. In fear of James, Harry suspected.
"They dueled, but totally harmless until Quincey came." He looked familiar, but Harry didn't care to think about that now. "Scabiour conjured up a snake which James -"
"He did what?" Harry turned to his son. "What did you do? Snape, eh Professor Snape, when Lockhart couldn't get rid of it... Did you try to -?"
"Mr Potter", McGonagall said sharply, and he got aware of everyone looking at him, some almost miserly. James and Ginny smiled, and for a second, Harry thought his son should come back to his sensitives. But when he noticed his father's gaze, James' smile faded.
McGonagall sighed and turned to ask the girl to continue when the door swung open and a tall, dark-skinned girl strode toward them. Black tresses had come loose from her bun and her cheeks were wet with tears. Harry saw the mask disappear from his son's face and how he nervously licked his lips.
"Excuse me, Professor McGonagall. Mr and Mrs Potter", she said tremulously and then, so fast that no one reached to prevent her, she cuffed James. In a moment Ginny stood between them, her back at James and her wand raised. James didn't move, nor raised his hand to his blotchy cheek.
"Only Muggles use their fists", Ginny hissed.
"And Hermione", Harry heard himself say. He hadn't tried to be funny, but Ginny lowered her wand, reminded that it was a child she threatened.
"But Malfoy deserved it", she objected.
The students gawped and McGonagall hawked. "This is an interrogation", she said at the same time as Naomi exclaimed:"Potter deserves it! He just stood there."
"Everyone one did", Harry pointed out. "You and everyone else of the spectators. If you shall beat someone, hit the one responsible for this."
"Potter!"
James stiffened, but then a smile spread over his face when his father muttered: "Sorry professor. Just saying my opinion."
"As always, I'm afraid. But you're right." McGonagall paused. "Mr Potter, you will get detention for dueling in the corridor. Now, all of you are dismissed."
Harry stopped to stare at the empty painting of Dumbledore and turned to leave the room when the door opened once again.
"I've been warned", Ron said loudly when he approached with Hermione, "that my nephew is in charge."
"He hasn't done anything", Ginny quickly informed him.
He halted. "Bloody hell. Did I leave the dessert for – a reunion? Pretty gloomy class party I have to say. Ought to invite Moaning Myrtle when we -"
James laughed and some of the others tittered. Harry wanted to do the same when Ron thumped his back, but couldn't. Cruciatus. A Gryffindor-student had used the Cruciatus. He had foolishly thought nothing like that could happen when Lord Voldemort once and for all was defeated.
Ginny gave a start when Hermione repeated her last words. "Why did you call us Ginny, with the D.A coins, when the only thing happening is James getting detention?"
"I didn't", Ginny said, confused. "I'm not carrying around that coin. And if I did, I wouldn't had used it to get you here."
The pale boy uttered a few words, but so quietly that McGonagall asked him to say them again. "I did", he said and got a dreamy expression over his face. "I wanted to find out if they worked."
"Wanted to find out if they worked?" Ron said skeptically. "They are not toys you know. Give it to me, and say who you stole it from. And how you know how they work." He stretched out his hand to him as he spoke, but the boy didn't move.
"I haven't stolen it", he protested.
"Of course not. Just give it to me."
"Mum gave it to me."
He stopped. "And who is she?"
"Luna Lovegood", Harry, Ginny and Hermione said at the same time. Ron's ears reddened.
"You are dismissed." McGonagall followed the students with her gaze until they had left the room. Lorcan hesitated at the doorstep, but followed the others without saying anything more. Naomi pushed her way through and run down the stairs. James looked after her, and after a look from Ginny, McGonagall let him leave the room as well. She closed the door firmly.
"What will the parents say?" McGonagall asked them and rose from the chair behind the desk.
"They will blame Bowmaker", Hermione sighed. "But that's all."
"I hope James' friend will be all right." Ron looked cautiously at Harry. It reminded him of something – that he, during his sixth year at Hogwarts, nearly had killed Malfoy with a spell from the Half-Blood Prince's book.
"Does he really have to be sent to Azkaban?" Harry asked, disheartened.
McGonagall looked surprised. "Of course, Mr Potter."
Ginny leaned against him and touched his tied fist with her soft fingers. He exhaled and nodded.
"Coming to the Burrow at Christmas Eve?" Ron asked Harry and Ginny, who both nodded. "See you there, then." He and Hermione had almost left the room when something occurred to Harry.
"So why did you get here, if you hadn't the coins in your pockets?"
Hermione smiled for the first time during the meeting. "Well, just in case, I suppose."
Harry brought out a golden piece from his pocket. "Yes. Childishly, isn't it?"
"Indeed", Ginny agreed, and Ron gave a short laugh before he and Hermione left the room.
"Coins?" McGonagall asked tiredly.
Ginny shook her head. "It's a long story, Professor. And we better go now."
"I don't understand", Harry said desperately. "He's trying to be like my father but – why?"
They had left the school area and were going to transfer home. Sleet was falling from the sky and their breaths were steamy.
Ginny gave him a look of deep compassion. "He wants you to be proud of him."
"I am proud of him", he rose fierily.
"I know, love. I'm not saying you aren't."
"Ginny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"
"It's just that I never have understood how he feels. My own son and I thought... I never thought he had any problems with you being famous."
"Oh, so it's all my fault? You know, I didn't want to be famous, if it -"
"I know. But, well, you could at least have talked to him in there." Ginny took out her wand, clearly showing that the conversation was over.
"Saying what? 'Your friend's going to Azkaban, so Merry Christmas!'?" He bit his tongue, but the damage was already done.
"Don't make fun of me, Harry!" In that moment he understood where James had got his temper from. Ginny's eyes had darkened. "Don't let us fight." She kept her voice calm and had an almost imploring expression. "I'm worried about James, that's all."
"And I'm not, is that what you're saying?"
She stood silent for so long time that he thought she never was going to answer. He had crossed the line.
"I'm sure you're worried", she said at last. "And you ought to talk to him before we have to worry even more."
She was gone before he had time to answer. He didn't transfer immediately, because he doubted she had gone home. She would be away for some hours so they both calmed down. He didn't understand how Ginny could think it was his fault that James' friend had cast the Cruciatus. He didn't understand the anger behind his son's words when he had accused him in front of McGonagall. Of coursed her cared about his son – he loved all his children!
"What have I done?" James buried his face in his hands.
"That's Quincey's line", Roxanne said tonelessly. She had cried until her voice got hoarse, and now seemed to have no strength left. Her hands shook when she raised them to wipe away her tears. "Two Dementors'", she reiterated. "They took him. Oh, James, will I ever see him again?"
He had no answer to give, and yet he had to. Lucy had gone to bed, but he had felt that he couldn't leave Roxanne alone with her sorrow. She had already tried to hurt herself. He wanted to lie to her, say that everything was going to be all right. But she shouldn't believe that, and her words weren't meant as a question.
He lowered his hands. "It's my fault. I should never have provoked Wardle. Then nothing of this had happened."
She shook her head. "That pale boy said the same. But that's no consolation. I envy Scabby's whore. I do" Her voice broke at the last word and she got another fit of crying. James put her head on his shoulder and held her tight, knowing that she, if he didn't, would plunge herself into the wall. "- with murderers and worse. And Dementors stealing every happy memory he has. He'll forget -"
"Hush." He swallowed the words he ought to say. She quivered. "I'll take you to Madame Pomfrey. She'll give you something so you can sleep." Without nightmares.
She didn't resist when he propped her along the stairs and corridors. In fact, they were breaking a rule by walking around at night, but he thought they would be excused if any teacher saw them. And, they were not the ones bothering about rules, especially not now.
When he had left her in the care of the old nurse and was on his way back to the dormitory, where Quincey wouldn't sleep in the bed next to his, he decided to go through the colonnade instead of crossing the green. In the colonnade he would be harder to discover and it was a faster way now when he didn't have to watch out every step in the stairs so Roxanne shouldn't fall.
They hadn't let him say goodbye to his friend. They had kept him in the headmistress' office with his parents while Quincey took his last looks at the world. He remembered the first time they had met: how Quincey had defensed him against the classmate's sneers, the very first school day. Their relationship had been complicated and more than one time had their fights, at least once at week, developed into hostility. But they had always found each other again. He should never forget how his friend had come to his help, making his way through to come to his side. He should never forget the expression on his face when he realized what he had done. The regret and the hatred he felt over himself. He hadn't meant to go so far. He just had wanted to save his friend, not torture the boy. And he should never forget his last words to him: It's totally clear that we all belong to Slytherin, so slithering as we are. Despite the hard words, Quincey hadn't hesitated when he came to James' side. And that loyalty, that love, could James never repay. That loyalty had cost Quincey his life.
His feet yielded but he didn't felt the descent. He had caused his best friend his downfall. The remaining painful days, weeks or months of Quincey's life, would he curse James with all his heart? Would he damn the day James came into his life? He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think of anything.
But Naomi came into his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried to not think about her. Her big, dark-brown eyes: how she screwed them up when she counted the gauges at the Potion class. She often fingered on her necklace, caressed the snake, holding it inside her hand, close to her heart. And when she did, her eyes wandered, her shoulders lowered. He wasn't obsessed at all.
He should be ashamed. He thought about Naomi when his friend had begun his endless night in Azkaban. He got up and continued to walk along the pavement. In the moonlight the pillars' shadows got shape and face, flickering before his feet. Unnamed prisoners, dying humans, Dementors in fluttering robes.
He had grown up next to a graveyard and probably spent more time around the grave-stones then the cherry in his garden. But this was something else. He could swear Quincey's spirit spoke to him that night. Bidding farewell, not in words but in pictures. It wasn't a ghost, not like the ones floating around the castle. It was more like a presence and yet it hadn't any mind of its own. It was a power, a power that belonged to anything, anywhere and anytime.
"Please, tell me what to do", he begged the wind, feeling like a fool, but sufficient desperate to give it a try. Was he going mad?
Nothing happened. As if it would have, he reproached himself. He slipped through the gate, ran upstairs and whispered the password to the Fat Lady.
"Sneaking around", she complained and yawned, but swung open. "Just as all Potters."
He didn't thought about what she had said until he lay in his bed. He knew his father and grandfather had done it, but everyone? Al, his orderly brother, was he out at night? Or Lily, his little sister? He left the warm sheets and asked her what she had meant.
"I'm not a scandalmonger", she said haughtily, but he doubted her words.
"In for a penny, in for a pound."
She sighed. "Well, you are his brother. He's having the invisibility cloak of your grandfather and when he comes back in the mornings he's – No, you have to ask him about it. Don't tell him I said this to you."
He left her without answering. Surely it wasn't anything important.
He never thought he would fall asleep, but when he put his head on the pillow, he did. He dreamt of a voice screaming in the darkness. Calling for him.
He woke before the sunrise, bathing in a cold sweat, to his own scream. For half a second he didn't remember what had happened and leaned towards Quincey's bed to say he was sorry for waking him. The bed was empty. And the memories reached him with a pain that hadn't faded since yesterday. Panic overwhelmed him, forced him to leave his bed. But he stayed in the middle of the floor, staring back at the other ones in the sleep chamber that stared at him with open mouths, without seeing them.
"No", he whimpered, and began to shiver when one of the boys spoke to him.
"Easy, James, it was only a nightmare."
"No", he repeated, suddenly filled with coldness. "NO", he roared, throwing himself at the boy that had spoken, beating him furiously. The other two boys came to their friends rescue, but couldn't drag James from his body, and when their hands touched him did he begin to beat them as well. It didn't matter how much they beat him because he didn't feel any pain expect the emptiness Quincey had left behind. One of them finally succeeded to draw his wand, but didn't know what to do with it. James heard him a moment later, screaming in the common room up the stairs to the girls' dormitories for Lucy to come. She came, and James became still when he heard her voice.
It was like wakening from unconsciousness. He didn't remember what he had done. He murmured an apology when he looked at the boy's bloody face, and then left the rooms with Lucy on his heels. Ashamed.
He had never done anything like that before. And it he wanted his pain to reach someone else, why not someone in Slytherin, or someone responsible for what had happened?
"James, look at me", Lucy begged him, and he obeyed, but without meeting her eyes. "I'm here and I won't leave you. Everything's going to be all right."
He didn't believe her. Of course he didn't! She said these soothing words to calm him but they were all lies. Nothing would ever get better. Quincey, his best friend, was now in Azkaban because of him. Quincey had only tried to protect him, like he always did, and now he had to pay for it. And there was nothing he could do... If it hadn't been for him, Quincey hadn't had to help him from Wardle. If it hadn't been for Naomi...
"James. Look at me." Lucy had made him sit down without him even noticing it, and now she held his wrists firmly. The sorrow he saw in her eyes was more real than anything that he had experienced in months. "We can't freak out, James. Roxanne needs us."
So it was there her feelings laid. With Roxanne and not Quincey. But he nodded and said that he felt better now. She replayed to his goodnight, but only reluctantly.
Well back in the dormitory, he felt the other boys stare at him in the darkness. They probably feared that he had lost his mind just like Quincey.
He wanted them to talk, so he could think of something else than what had happened. But when one of them whispered something to his friend, he immediately wished him to be quiet. Everything reminded him of Quincey. If it had been him, Quincey had turned the whole castle up-side-down by now and demanded them to let him go free. Why didn't he do that? Why didn't he even try? Why had he surrendered even before Quincey's destiny had been settled?
He knew the answer to all these questions as clear as if Quincey had said them to him. He wasn't afraid, he wasn't a coward. It was just that... He had never done anything without his friend. Since the day they came to Hogwarts, they had always been together. He knew what Quincey was thinking without even looking at him. And he could feel Quincey's fear now, Quincey who never was afraid of anything. That fear scared him more than his own would have done. He had destroyed Quincey's life through a silly act of jealousy. He wanted to blame Scabiour or even Naomi or Quincey himself, but he knew that he was responsible.
When the other boys rose the next morning, James sat on the windowsill and stared into the mist. He hadn't only lost his best friend, but himself.