OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.

Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies.

AN: Hello everyone! Thanks for coming out to read the fourth chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I know that the last chapter didn't have much, but things will start picking up from here on in. (Summer vacations are the greatest…)

That said, onwards.

Previously:

"Lily?"

The redhead spun to find Alice Bailey looking at her from the bottom of the stairs. One eyebrow was raised in question, and she asked, "What are you doing, just standing on the stairwell?"

Lily checked herself. "I…"

"Are you all right?" Her friend demanded. "Don't tell me you're sick too!"

"No, that's not it." Lily said. "I was trying to decide where I would spend my free period…"

An emergency conference.

That was what Professor Gertrude had said.

If it included all the teachers, then it had to be something big. Now she couldn't help but be worried like Dane. "She didn't happen to say what the meeting was about, did she?" She asked.

Alice shook her head, her black locks bouncing with the action. "We weren't told anything; and by the sounds of it, you weren't told anything either." She dusted her dress absently. "If you ask me, I hope it's about getting rid of the King's Army – they make me nervous."

Well, it was good to know that Lily wasn't the only one who was felt that way.

"It's as though we are being constantly watched, not guarded." Alice continued. "Surely you've discussed this with the others?"

It was Lily's turn to shake her head. "Unfortunately, it's not up to us whether the Army stays or leaves – if His Majesty hasn't recalled them, then he must have left them here for a purpose."

"That's not comforting in the least." Alice said, making her way up the stairs at last. She slipped her arm through Lily's when she reached the top. "Shall we spend the period together, then, my Lady? It's been a while since we've seen each other."

Chapter 4

- A Chance -

James listened to the ring of steel against steel, his blue eyes watching everything, ever attentive. It was as Professor Merrythought told him: on a battlefield, one had to be aware of one's surroundings. From the way a person stood, to the way he breathed…everything. That was one thing James paid very close attention to. He had learned to read a person through the way he breathed – was he tired, excited, frightened? It was not just in the way one swung his sword, or the way one parried, but in the way his body revealed every strength and weakness.

Sir Joseph, a young man in his third year, was panting already. Exhaustion had claimed the boy's body in the short sparring session that he had partaken in. James could see that his endurance was low, his stamina even lower. In an actual fight, the boy would go down within moments.

It wasn't good enough.

"Stand up," James ordered. "Again. We spar again."

"But sir…" Joseph started to protest.

"-Watch me," James said. "Anticipate!" Without a word of warning, he brought his sword down upon the younger man's. Joseph managed to parry just in time, but his blade wavered and clattered to the floor.

It wasn't good enough.

Sir Joseph fell on his knees soon after, unable to hold his footing any longer. "Mercy…I beg…" he said.

James ran his fingers through his hair. "You lack strength," He said. "You must also work on balance."

"Yes sir."

"Then get up." James bent down to pick up both swords, sheathing his own before handing Joseph' back to him. It was gilded in silver, the sweeping, twisting turns of a pattern ran all along the hilt. Well, it was to be expected: the Barrymount Household was known for their excellent swordsmanship. James had no doubt that Sir Joseph would turn out just as formidable. "Your session has ended for today."

Joseph bowed, hanging his head in shame.

James gently put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Do not worry – you have plenty of time yet."

"But sir, what can I do to improve? I fear I am not adept with the sword," Joseph said, as he clumsily returned the blade to its case.

"Work on things one step at a time," James said, knowingly. "If you try everything at once, you will not get very far."

Joseph bowed again.

Around them, the other students looked on, anxiously. They were all in third year, and seeing them reminded James of Peter. They were about the same height – one or two heads shorter than himself. None of them, though, had the same intelligence level as his friend.

Since Professor Merrythought had died, James had been asked to take over the class of Defense and Practicality. At first, he had turned down the request – the pain of losing his mentor had been heavy and he couldn't bear the thought of taking over. But then, he realized that there was no one else who was capable as there was none other at the Academy with skills high enough.

Where once he would be the one learning, James was now teaching. No one complained, especially since his reputation of being Professor Merrythought's most accomplished pupil was well known by everyone in the Institute. Instead, everyone was in awe of him.

The thought left a bittersweet feeling in James' heart. The responsibility of teaching in Professor Merrythought's place was more of a burden than an honor.

So far, results were slow. Sir Joseph was right – there were those men who could not hold a sword to save their lives. Yet, as it was mandatory for all the men to learn the practice, James tried his best to encourage them.

After the infiltration, most of the students had been more than willing to learn how to use the sword, but they were still too naïve. More often than not, the younger students would brandish their swords in the halls, claiming duels and whatnot.

James could now understand his mentor's frustration.

"Remember, all of you: respect for the sword is a healthy thing. It is a weapon for killing and should not be drawn unless with that intent."

A student – Matthew Perrison, notorious for raising said duels – raised his hand. "Sir James, what about a sword that is used to protect?"

Protect.

James almost laughed.

"A sword that is used to protect does not make the weapon any friendlier to those at the receiving end, does it, Sir Matthew?"

"Are you saying that we shouldn't protect ourselves?"

In a blink of an eye, James had unsheathed his weapon again and had it pressed up to the boy's throat. Matthew's eyes went wide, and James could read the young Hufflepuff's fear in them. The rest of the class drew in a late gasp.

"I'm saying, sir, that you should not draw your sword on that pretense. A sword that protects is still a sword that kills." His voice was colder than he expected it to be, but he couldn't help himself. "I shall not hear of you rousing a fight in the halls with that claim, am I understood?"

With a squeak, Matthew replied, "Yes, sir!"

Nodding, James withdrew his sword. "Good."

A spell seemed to be broken because as one, the whole class breathed a sigh of relief. Matthew crumpled to the floor, his knees gone weak.

James, however, felt no pity for the fellow. He began to pace, his voice ringing clear throughout the gymnasium. "You must learn that the sword is not a plaything. It can cause a war – and it can cause your life." His boots clacked, and every eye was on him, he could feel it. "The sword is a very useful tool in defending yourself and those around you, but even so, be prepared to kill your assailant if it comes down to it.

"Be on your guard always. Do not be afraid to strike back if ever a surprise attack is brought you way."

James suddenly turned around and parried a sword that came his way. The blow was strong…familiar. He had known it was coming. He had heard the way the students around him had begun to hold their breaths in bated anticipation and had heard the sound of steel being drawn from its sheath.

He looked up to see Lucius, his teeth bared, bearing down on the weapon.

He should have known.

The man's blond hair was tied back with a swath of green ribbon, to match his cape, signifying which Branch he belonged to. Under his eyes were dark shadows, the only indication of his weakness.

As they exchanged blows, James could see that despite the man's fatigue, he was still ready to give a good fight.

Lucius swept low and fast, a blow delivered with the intent of cutting open James' stomach, but the latter was quick to avoid it, bringing his own blade down to slice his opponent from shoulder to hip.

The attack didn't connect though, as at the last second, James pulled his sword back.

It wouldn't do to have blood sprayed in a duel.

He could tell Sir Lucius was holding back, too, because the man's movements were calculated and measured, always an inch or so away from his body. Still, to the untrained eye, it was cutting it close.

Despite the fact that it was a show put on for the benefit of those who were learning, James knew that Lucius was not playing around. The man was good – second in the art next to him. Whether he resented that fact, James didn't know, but he didn't want to test the thought.

Not that he gloated over it. In actuality, James thought he had a long way to go before he was able to match Professor Merrythought's level.

He jumped back as Lucius lunged, and in a heartbeat, James lunged forward again, his instincts taking over.

Lucius, having no time to dodge, drew his blade downward to deflect the blow, effectively pinning James' sword on the floor. Using his speed, the Gryffindor pushed up, shoving the Slytherin aside with his shoulder, causing the hold to loosen and as Lucius staggered a step back, he took the opportunity to end the fight.

With an eerie fluidness, James held the sword's point to Lucius' chest before the man could so much as raise his sword again.

Time seemed to stop as the men glowered at each other.

Slowly, Lucius let his sword clatter to the floor and raised his hands in defeat. Holding his gaze for a second longer, James flicked his own sword away before slamming it back into its sheath and bowing.

Lucius returned the gesture with a nod. "I'm sorry to interrupt your class." The Elite said, smoothly, looking around at the students.

"You did well," James said, bending down for the second time that day to retrieve his opponent's sword. He held it out, hilt first to the Slytherin, who put it away without blinking an eye. "What causes you to come here, sir?"

"I thought to have a word with you," Lucius said. "I hear tell the other professors have given a free period. It seems you were not informed."

James glanced to the side, where his students had clustered together during the fight. "I am not a professor," He said, tightly.

Lucius smirked, and swept his cape to the side. "Well, in any case, I had thought the meeting would include you."

James did not miss his mocking tone. "Might I finish my lesson, sir, before we speak of such matters?"

It was Lucius' turn to bow. "Yes. Yes, of course."

At that, James turned to face his class. "Look. Listen. Remember," He said, raising a finger. "A man's actions mark his character," He said, quoting the phrase he had learned a long time ago from Professor Merrythought. He waited for someone else to raise their hand with a question, but when none came, he announced, "That will be all, then, gentlemen. Until the next class."

Everyone bid him farewell, before huddling together in their small groups to talk about the match they had seen. What they were saying, though, James was not concerned with. Instead, he turned to face Lucius who now had his hand resting upon the pommel of his sword in a relaxed manner.

"So, then? Why are you not in bed when you are quite obviously stricken with the flu, sir?" He demanded.

Lucius shook his head. "I'm fine."

James narrowed his eyes. "Well, it won't do to have you infecting others, now will it?"

"And here I thought you were worried for my sake," Lucius commented, dryly.

James restrained himself from laughing aloud. "Professor Edmund will summon you when he thinks it time to tell you his thoughts on the affairs of the Kingdom," He told the blond haired man, getting straight to the point. "I don't have any answers for you, Sir Lucius."

Lucius tapped his sword with his forefinger. "I didn't expect you to. I came to tell you not to act rashly."

James raised his eyebrow. "You know something, then?"

"I know you have the tendency to act on your own." Lucius said, shaking his head. "Whatever it is that the King has asked, let it rest until everything has been made clear. War is inevitable, it seems, but if we can prolong it as much as possible, we must take that course of action."

The Gryffindor should have known that Lucius had sources of information. He was, after all, connected directly to the Royal House. "I won't act on my own," James sniped, feeling offended. "And if I do, it will be with good reason."

Having irked James slightly, Lucius turned his heel to leave.

"I find it quite amusing to see how you have all of a sudden taken an interest in the good of the people," James called, to his retreating back.

"Why sir, if there is a war, I shall be included in it and I shan't want that ruining my plans for success," Lucius answered.

Of course. Ambitious as ever.

"Inform me of your thoughts should you have any," Lucius told him. "I will wait for Master Edmund's summon."

"And the other Elites?"

"They will know what is important when the time comes."

With that, Lucius exited, leaving James bristling behind him.

0-0-0-0-0

Lorien sat up as Dane entered the room with his Lady by his arm. His fever was still raging, so it was a struggle just to right himself.

Dane quickly bent to help him. "Sir, don't force yourself for my sake." He said. "I came to see how you were faring." He gripped Lorien by the upper arm, moving him to a more comfortable position on his pillows.

"I have been better," Lorien said, through small gasps of breath. It surprised Dane that the man was able to make small jokes at all.

He smiled and took up a seat next to the bed. "I hope you don't mind that I brought Chrissa along?"

"My lady is always welcome…" Was Lorien's response. To Chrissa he said, "My apologies. I'm unable to greet you well…"

"Nonsense, sir. It's to be expected with your condition," The woman said, tucking a brown curl behind her ear.

Lorien, not being much of a talker, fell silent then, but Dane and he had been close friends for a long time already so it was a normal thing for them. At his questioning look, Dane explained, "The professors have decided to hold a meeting. It must concern an official matter."

"Elites are usually present for such things," Chrissa noted.

"That's true…." Dane said. "I don't know what to think of it…"

Lorien didn't answer, of course, and his friend dipped his head in apology. "I don't mean to bring trouble, Sir Lorien. Is there anything I can get for you?"

When Lorien shook his head, Dane let out a breath. "I hope you recover soon – the amount of responsibility has reached a point where I find I cannot breathe."

At that, Lorien cracked a smile and finally spoke. "I thank you for your pains, my friend. I wish I could help out, but as it stands, I am quite unable to even help myself."

Chrissa put a hand on the invalid's shoulder. "Get some rest, Sir Lorien, and gain back your strength." She cast Dane a forbidding look and the man got up from his seat. "We'll leave you be and come to check on you again later."

Lorien sighed in response and she moved to help him get comfortable with Dane's help.

Since his room was stuffy, she opened the window a crack. The light blue curtains billowed gently with the breeze that was let in. It made the fire in the hearth flicker momentarily.

The room was a terrible mess, with books and papers strewn everywhere. It made Chrissa think of a mad scientist's workshop because everywhere she looked there were equations and numbers. Well, since Ravenclaw was the Branch of the Logics, it was to be expected that Lorien would endeavor stay ahead in the subjects of mathematics and science.

Still, for someone who looked so dignified and composed, the state of his room was surprising. She bent down to stack a few papers together and saw that there were many lines that were crossed out.

By the time she came back to his bedside, Dane was already covering the man's sleeping body with a blanket. Lorien's face was pale as parchment, his black hair spreading out on his pillow like spilt ink on paper.

"He won't recover very quickly…" Dane noted, quietly. The man's fever had yet to break.

"Should we take him to the Hospital Ward?"

"Not as of yet," Dane said. "If everyone sees that an Elite is sick, they will panic." He glanced to the door as he spoke. "I will bring Madam Pomfrey up here later tonight." As he took her hand and began to lead her to the door, he said, "It seems that the flu has only gotten worse."

Chrissa took a glance back at Lorien's sleeping form. "Let's pray that the other Elites won't be affected by it."

Dane gave her a grim nod as they exited the room.

Once they were in the hallway, he took her arm. "I'm sorry if all this is such a burden to you, Chrissa…"

She smiled up at him. "I already told you, do not worry for me, good sir." She reached up fix his collar then and proceeded to dust off his cape. "If anything, I worry for you. You haven't had much sleep, I take it?"

The Ravenclaw Elite pulled her forward and planted his lips on her temple in a quick kiss. "I will be fine. With the amount of work, I have had to forego some of my resting hours. That will soon be remedied once the others are back on their feet."

Chrissa pulled away from him slightly. "Dane, are the rumors true? Have the Philologi really left the service of His Majesty?"

"Sir Robyn has written it so, and I know my father not to lie," Dane told her.

"Then who will the King call upon for advice? Who is running the cities and affairs?"

"My lady, I don't know what to tell you," Dane said. "My father told me only that His Majesty has relieved him of his duties and until further notice, they are not to partake in any of the Kingdom's matters."

Chrissa murmured, "How puzzling…"

To which Dane answered, "I agree – I meant to speak with Master Edmund on the matter, as well as Sir Lucius. Perhaps even Sir James may have a thought."

He began to lead the way down to the Ravenclaw Common Room, which was bustling with activity. Several students had taken it upon themselves to throw a Frisbee around, running after it with many a shriek of laughter. It was when a vase was knocked over and broken that Dane cleared his throat.

Everyone froze.

"I'm afraid such conduct is unbecoming to the Branch of Logics," He said, calmly. The fear in the room was so tangible one could almost taste it. He scanned the room and everyone seemed to stand up a little straighter. "Well, then," he continued, when no one spoke a word, "I know everyone is anxious to have some roaming time, but as it stands, we must be a little more patient."

"Sir Dane," A second year by the name of Eugene piped up, "when will we be allowed a Hogsmeade outing?"

The Elite smiled slightly. "Soon, I expect," He lied. "In the meantime, shall we clean up this mess?"

They jumped to do his bidding and Dane felt Chrissa's hand on his, a reminder that there was someone who still thought him normal.

But he'd long ago accepted the fact that there would forever be a gap between him and the others of his House.

Walking the path of a Philologus Elite was lonely.

Without a word, he took Chrissa's hand and squeezed it.

0-0-0-0-0

By Dinner Time, Lily had managed to do more than half of the workload that had piled on her. To say that she was proud of herself was an understatement. She was ecstatic – this meant that she would finally get a good night's rest after so long. She'd expected to be buried in her books all night.

It turned out that the Professors had gotten together to discuss helping the Elites in some way, since many of them had become incapacitated and were unable to perform their duties. Since the division of labor was too much for the remaining Elites who were in good health, the Professors had acquiesced to postponing their classes until everything could be settled.

With the workload considerably lessened, Lily sat down to her meal, her appetite perked. That night, it was a nice roasted fowl with potatoes along with chocolate pudding for dessert. While she ate, she opened her textbook on her lap, studying the material for the next day's lectures.

Falling behind was not an option, Sir Dane had made that clear to her.

"Excuse me," A voice said, politely, making her glance up from the Physics explanation. Pavel stood by her table, looking down at her with his intense blue eyes. She found herself returning his gentle smile. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked.

"No, no," Lily said, closing the textbook and setting it underneath her seat. "Is there something…?"

Pavel cleared his throat, pulling at the collar of his uniform. "You were all alone and I thought I might keep you…some company…" he said. "That is, if you don't find that too bold a request?"

Lily hesitated for a moment before gesturing for him to sit. She had not expected for him to call upon her company again, and she had to admit that she was rather flattered. She could see several girls turn their gazes in her direction. Pavel was a very fine person to look upon, she supposed, and Lily couldn't help thinking that it seemed unlikely that he would be interested in someone like her.

"What about Aleksey and Karim?"

"Both are unwell," He replied, as he slid into the seat opposite from her. He began to fidget then, as though he were ready to burst. When Lily asked him what was wrong, he blurted, "I must be frank, and I beg you to consider my words." He leaned forward on the table just as a waiter handed him the night's menu. Pavel didn't bother to look at it, but continued to gaze at Lily earnestly. "You are very beautiful, Lady Lily. I'm quite attracted to you."

Despite herself, Lily felt her cheeks heat up. Frank indeed! She had definitely not expected him to say that!

Pavel hurriedly continued, as though he would lose confidence if he didn't. "The moment I walked into the Academy and saw you, I must admit to being enamored." He fingered the menu's glossy cover as he spoke, a gesture that showed Lily just how nervous he might be feeling even though he sounded very calm.

She stared at him, wondering if she was hearing things correctly. She didn't know what to say – how to respond. For some reason, her eyes traveled over to the table where James was sitting with Remus, the two chatting amicably over their evening meal.

What would he think about Pavel's sudden confession?

Lily blinked, tearing her gaze from his handsome face and trained it on Pavel, who had resorted to looking down at the menu at last because of her silence.

She found her voice, sounding small. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Pavel flicked his eyes up toward her. "Did I upset you?" He asked automatically. "If so, I didn't mean to. I just felt that I could not keep it to myself any longer."

Well, if that didn't leave her touched, she didn't know what else would. She sat back against her chair, her thoughts swirling.

"I don't ask that you answer now," Pavel said. "And if it has made you uncomfortable, I apologize. But even so, please think about my feelings." He said. "I do not tell you a falsehood."

Lily coughed a little. "I…yes…I'll think about them…" she managed to say.

He gave her a wan smile and it made her blush harder. She quickly looked down at her food, but it didn't seem as appealing as it had before.

As if there wasn't enough on her mind.

At the same time, she was very flattered. The only person at the Academy who had ever mentioned anything to her about her looks had been Sirius, and she had foolishly thought back then that he was the one she had fallen in love with.

Unwittingly, her eyes returned to James, who, at that moment, looked up and met her gaze.

She averted it and cleared her throat. "Pavel…do you believe in luck?"

The Russian frowned good-naturedly. "Yes, of course."

"Well, there's a saying that people with red hair bring bad luck with them wherever they go," She said.

This time, he grinned. "What bad luck has befallen you, my Lady? As I said, you are very beautiful. You're also very talented and smart else you would not have secured a position such as you have now."

She hummed in response, picking up her fork just as the waiter came by to ask Pavel what he had decided on. She never listened though, her thoughts wandering back to James.

What did he think about her looks? He had only ever complimented her once, and that had been at the masquerade a while back, and at the time, the words may have been just as ritual as everything else at the Academy.

"My Lady, is something the matter?" Pavel asked, seeing that she had begun poking at her food absently.

She shook herself out of her thoughts. "Sorry," She mumbled. "I guess I'm not hungry any more." She reached out to grab her napkin but Pavel's hand was on hers before she knew it.

"If there is someone else who has caught your fancy, I won't interrupt," He said. "If not, please think of giving me a chance."

Wow, the man was really perceptive! Lily was impressed at how quickly he managed to read her mind. Was she really that obvious?

She sighed, nodding, and he gave her hand a squeeze before withdrawing his.

She stared down at her fingers, where the warmth of his hand had been.

There was something missing in his touch, she realized. Instead of making her feel at ease, he had only resulted in making her more uncomfortable.

The memory of James' hand in hers came to mind so suddenly that the blush renewed itself all over again. There was no way Pavel could have missed it, and he probably thought it was because of him because he shot her a gentle smile as she retracted her hand to the base of her throat.

His food came though, distracting them both, and he raised his wine glass to her in a small toast. "To luck!" he said, and despite herself, Lily laughed, raising her own glass in response.

Complications, it seemed, would always follow her.

So much for a restful night.

To Be Continued…

AN: My thanks goes out to neabear who pointed out my grammatical mistakes. I hope I managed to fix them. Please don't hesitate to drop me a review of criticism – I greatly appreciate it. It only helps me to become a better writer. The next update should be in two weeks. I hope to see you all there. Also, please review before exiting the window.

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.